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radiosteve · 1 year

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I Knew You

Summary: You and Steve Harrington have hated each other ever since sixth grade, which made living next door to him all the more miserable. It hadn't always been like that though, shared smiles and loving gestures in secret before popularity went to his head. But now, Steve somehow keeps finding ways to squeeze himself back into your life, making you question if the boy you once knew, the one you might have loved, still lived somewhere within him.

Note: Its been a bit since I last posted, but I had this idea and really wanted to write it. I'm currently drowning with work and school stuff for my masters so my next fic might take a hot minute and will definitely be shorter. This takes place in the fall after season 4 and both Eddie and Max survived with minimal injuries. It’s also partially inspired by Cardigan by Taylor Swift, hence the lyrics as chapter titles. This ended up being way longer than I intended for it to be, but I hope you enjoy!

Warnings: 18+, no use of y/n (reader is referred to as Baby), smut, unprotected sex, oral sex (female receiving), enemies to lovers, language, mentions of blood/injuries, some cannon divergence, fluff, angst, slowburn.

Pairings: Steve Harrington x reader

Word count: 30.5k (I got carried away)

I knew I’d curse you for the longest time

The last salt of the summer air lazed its way through the breeze, picking up the fresh fallen leaves with it. There wasn’t enough foliage on the ground to worry about raking them just yet, but it still brought a chill down your spine at the thought of autumn’s rapid approach. You were sitting on the window bench in your room with a book in your hands and your back against the wall as the breeze floated through the open window, making the curtains dance despite being drawn back. It was a moment of quiet, something you desperately needed.

You were lost in words on the page before you, taking them in sentence after sentence, until the loud slam of a door interrupted your trance. The sound of the door was followed by singing, loud and obnoxious singing. More specifically, Steve Harrington’s loud and obnoxious singing. He had just strolled into his room, playing air guitar along to whatever metal song he was bellowing. A metal song that you presumed Eddie had played so many times on the tape player in his van that it somehow ingrained itself into Steve’s pop-hits brain.

You sighed, shaking your head to try and brush off the noise as if this was a daily occurrence. Well, it almost was, in some form or another. You lived next door to Steve Harrington for as long as you could remember. Your bedroom windows faced each other too, allowing each of you to gain small, often unwelcome, glimpses into the other’s life. Just about every girl in school had come up to you at least once to tell you how lucky you were to have such an easy way to see Steve Harrington. Then they’d always proceed to ask if they could join you for a sleepover at your house, no doubt just to get a chance to spy on the boy in his natural habitat.

Your eyes flitted back down to the page, stuck on the same sentence ever since your ears were met with the unwelcome disturbance that was Steve Harrington’s singing. He’d moved on from singing to vocalizing the song’s guitar solo, which was somehow even more annoying. Steve’s arms moved wildly up and down his fake guitar as he banged his head up and down. If you weren’t so annoyed you’d honestly be impressed by the amount of endurance Steve’s performance surely required. But you were annoyed. Annoyed enough to finally speak up.

“Do you constantly have to make so much noise or do you just like to hear the sound of your own voice?” your remark rang out through the open window, trickling through the air to reach Steve’s room. You didn’t look up from your book, doing your best to look unbothered. Steve stopped singing and thrashing about. His heavy breaths evened out slightly before he responded, slowly approaching the window sill.

“Do you constantly have a stick up your ass or do you just like to pretend that you do?” your eyes widened at that, putting your book to the side as you turned to face the window, to face Steve. He had a smirk on his lips, one that you were more than familiar with by now. It was the smirk he flashed each time he said something that he knew would piss you off. Quite frankly, it was the expression you were most familiar with seeing Steve wear at this point in your life.

“If there’s a stick up my ass then it's only because you put it there,” it was a lame comeback. You knew it. Steve knew it. But they can’t all be winners. You winced as the words fell from your lips, waiting for Steve’s retaliation, which was sure to be unsavory.

“I don’t recall ever doing that. But Baby, if you bend over I’d be more than happy to oblige,” Steve's smirk grew wider. Whether it was the stupid nickname or the sexual nature of his response that caused the flash of his pearly teeth, you didn’t know. However, you did know that you hated it, all of it. You hated that you constantly walked right into his dumb little comebacks. You hated that he seemingly had an endless supply of them just for you. You hated the day that the stupid nickname was ever aimed in your direction and you hated that Steve Harrington was the one to do it.

It was late September 1978. Summer was still putting up a fight, albeit a weak one, to keep its warmth in the air. It had rained the night before, washing away the fresh fallen leaves to get stuck in the gutters along the roof or in the storm drains beside the narrow streets. School had only started back up a few weeks ago, and somehow, Steve found himself climbing the popularity ranks. It was a big deal for a sixth grader who’d only just begun his journey at Hawkins Middle to be so admired so fast, but Steve was already starting to see people worship the ground he walked on. He liked the idea of it, that he could waltz through the door of some place and up and run it so soon. His dad always said that the Harringtons were winners, and Steve knew he would be nothing if he disappointed his dad.

Steve was walking to school that morning, Tommy and Carol to his left as a group full of his classmates followed closely behind. It was as if Steve had his very own entourage. They were a few blocks from the school when he saw it, a bike abandoned on the grass next to the sidewalk. There was a backpack beside it too, laying face down as if it had been thrown off in haste. It didn’t take long for Steve to realize why the bike before him looked so familiar. It was the same one he had seen you on almost every day that summer. The bike you rode to the library, to Lover’s Lake, to the movie theater, to the quarry. As long as it was a place with a good story waiting to be watched or read, or a quiet environment to immerse yourself in a good book, someone was sure to find you there with that bike.

Steve panicked for a moment, preparing himself to run to the police station and report that you had been kidnapped. But then he looked up. You were hunched over the sidewalk a few yards up, picking at something on the surface of the cement. Steve’s legs moved, the others following, and stopped once again, this time only a few feet from where you sat on the sidewalk. Steve’s brows furrowed as he looked down, finally getting a good look at what you were doing.

You sat there, slowly and gently peeling the dried worms from the sidewalk. Then you parted the grass next to the sidewalk, putting the worm down to get it as close to the soil as possible. Steve watched you curiously as you moved on to the next worm. It was then that the breeze picked up a bit, shifting away the hair that covered your face. Steve saw it, the tear tracks running down your cheeks as you struggled with the worms that Steve was sure were already dead. A few chuckles sounded from the group behind Steve, and suddenly he remembered that it was not just you and him on that sidewalk.

You too had suddenly become aware of your audience then, head snapping up to see the group in front of you. Your eyes landed on Steve. His expression was etched with empathy, an emotion Steve still held onto no matter how much Tommy tried to strip it from him in his sudden rise to king status. At that moment you didn’t care about the others or the tears that still leaked down your soft cheeks. You cared about the poor worms that stuck to the sidewalk. Your gaze landed on Steve, appealing to the boy who lived beside you for so many years.

“The rain,” you sniffled and Steve’s heart ached at the sound. He’d seen you cry before, as he was sure you had seen him cry too, through the cracks in the curtains obscuring bedroom windows. Each time Steve had to stop himself from marching over to your house and wrapping you in a comforting hug. It was an urge that he still had to repress, even here and now. “The rain cools down the sidewalk and the worms like to come out onto it. But it- it’s not raining anymore. It's too hot for them now. They- they’re burning alive,” fresh tears fell, replacing the old ones. They ran races against each other, fighting to be the first to drip off of your chin and onto the cement below. Steve’s mouth opened, but he was cut off by the boy beside him.

“Whatever, worm girl. Just move out of the way so we can get to school,” Tommy’s words rang through the air, the entourage laughing at you from behind him. Steve could picture it now, you’d spend the rest of middle and high school deemed as the worm girl. You’d hide in all of your classes, eat lunch by yourself in the library, and ignore the taunts that echoed throughout the hallway. Worm girl, worm girl, worm girl. You’d leave Hawkins the day after graduation, a car full of boxes, your life packed up and tucked away in each, and you’d never return. You’d start a new life in a new city that only knows you by your real name, not some playground-esque tease that stupid Tommy Hagan awarded you in 6th grade. You’d be happy there, build a place you could call home, find your one true love, and Steve would never see you again.

Steve had to stop this now. He had to bury the name worm girl in the ground before it could ever fully emerge. And there was only one way that Steve’s prepubescent brain could think how. Your eyes flickered from Tommy before landing back on Steve, willing him to say something, to defend you. Maybe that was too much to ask.

“Damn, that was lame. Worm girl, really? Are we five?” Steve pulled his gaze from yours. He couldn’t bear to see the look of hope that blossomed in your eyes. Not with what he was about to say next. “I mean, if anything, we should call her Baby since she’s crying like one,” small giggles sounded off behind Steve before being overtaken by full-blown giggles and laughs. And there it was. Steve’s master plan had come to fruition. Replace a bad nickname with a not-as-bad nickname. It wasn’t a great plan, he knew that, especially when he saw the scrunch of your brows and the quiver of your bottom lip, but it was the best that Steve’s 11-year-old thoughts could conjure on such short notice. And Baby really wasn’t that bad. It's a term of endearment for Christ's sake. Or at least that’s what Steve would tell himself.

Tommy laughed from beside Steve, throwing an arm over Carol and guiding her to walk around you. The others followed, hurling a few taunting calls of ‘Baby’ at you as they walked by. You looked back down at the ground, refocusing yourself on the task at hand, ignoring the cracks running along the foundations of your heart. Maybe Steve wasn’t the same boy you had grown up with. Maybe his middle school fame had gone to his head more than you thought it would. More than you hoped it would.

You had just freed another dried worm from its place on the sidewalk when you saw it. A pair of Nikes in front of you. Steve Harrington’s pair of Nikes. He hadn’t gone with the others. It was like he was rooted to the spot. You placed the worm into the depths of the grass, tilting your head to look up at the boy towering over you.

“Screw you, Steve,” you spoke harshly, doing your best to let venom lace your words despite the shake in your voice. Steve didn’t say anything back. He just crouched down in front of you, gently picking up the last worm from the sidewalk. He copied what you had done, parting the grass to place the worm close to the damp earth below. Steve stood up then, walking back to the group that had now passed you, heading towards the school. They hadn’t even noticed he was gone.

Steve rejoined them, sticking to the back of the group to not draw attention to his momentary absence. He looked back at you then, finding you with your head turned over your shoulder, already gazing at him with confusion plastered across your face. He shot you a soft smile, one that he had typically reserved just for you. It only lasted a moment, but for that moment you were more perplexed than before.

In that smile was Steve. The Steve. The one that had plaid wallpaper in his room and hand-drawn pictures of cars taped to the walls (some that you had drawn for him). He was the boy who had a slew of green army men sitting on his window sill, the same ones that he had given you. They sat pointing towards the street out front, and never ever at you. They protected both of your rooms. The soldiers protected them from monsters, wizards, ghosts, and disappointed parents. At that moment, Steve was the boy next door who left messages taped to his window for you to see. The boy who stayed a few paces behind your bike after school to make sure you got home safely. He was the boy who promised to love you always before placing a peck on your lips when you were both five. He was the boy you knew, not the one who humiliated you in front of his friends.

But the moment ended. The smile dropped from Steve’s face as quickly as it had appeared. He turned his head back around, putting more and more distance between the two of you. You watched him for a moment longer until you finally managed to tear your gaze from his retreating figure. You moved then, leaning over the grass to see the worm that Steve had placed there, worried that he left it too high up. Most of the worms were dead long before you got there, you knew that, but it didn’t stop you from trying to help them. All the worms in the grass were lifeless and unmoving despite your efforts. All except one. It was the worm Steve had placed there.

You jumped into action then, using your fingers to dig a hole in the dirt. As quickly as you could, you placed the worm into the hole, covering it with the fresh soil. Its tail poked out just a bit and you watched with bated breath as it slowly retracted, moving deeper into the ground below. You glanced up at the sidewalk again, expecting to still see Steve in the distance, but he was gone. Over the hill and out of your eye line, just like the worm.

“Don’t call me that,” you bit through gritted teeth and Steve just laughed. His stupid, obnoxious, loud laugh. The one that warned you that danger was near anytime you heard it in the hallway in high school.

“Would you prefer I call you something else?” Steve pondered dramatically, bringing a finger to his lip and glancing up as if he were trying to remember something. “Maybe worm-” Steve began, a look of anger more prominent on your face now.

“Fuck you, Steve,” you cut him off before he could finish his taunt. He was about to say something else, no doubt another snarky comment that you could definitely afford to miss. It was about to spring from his lips when Steve was met with the sound of your window slamming shut. You locked it too, pulling the curtains closed and retreating to your bed, no longer in the mood to read. Steve stared at the purple curtains now blocking his view of you. Oh, how he hated that specific shade, knowing that they were the only thing keeping him from gazing at you.

Steve closed his window too, locking it the same as you had. But he kept his curtains open, hoping to maybe catch a glimpse of you later. The hand-drawn cars that once lined his walls were replaced by movie posters, ones he had gotten for free from work. He still had the army men littered along the window sill though. Most of them had been knocked over on their sides and Steve never bothered to pick them back up. They pointed at your room now, though Steve never intended for them to do so, unlike you who had purposefully aimed your soldiers at Steve’s window no more than a few days after Wormageddon.

Steve sat back on his bed, laying down and placing his arms under his head. He’d made you mad. Gotten you all riled up, just as he had planned from the second you opened your mouth. So why did he not feel better right now? Why did his stomach hurt and his heart refused to rest? This battle was over. The war waged on but this was still a victory worth noting in the imaginary books. He hadn’t gotten the final word but he still won nonetheless. Isn’t that what he was supposed to do? He was a Harrington after all, and Harringtons were winners. Right?

But I knew you’d linger like a tattoo kiss

The sun crept along the horizon, unwilling to give in to the moon just yet. Orange and pink illuminated your room through the open curtains. You sat at your vanity, applying a final layer of gloss to your lips before smacking them together. Unbeknownst to you, Steve had been watching you through the window. He admired the effort you took while getting ready, although he knew you didn’t need it. Steve would never admit it, he’d repressed it for far too long, but he thought you were the most beautiful girl he’d ever seen.

You turned towards your closet, digging through it to find a pair of shoes that matched your outfit. Steve couldn’t help the clawing desire to know what you were getting ready for. There weren’t any parties that he knew of that night. Maybe you were hanging out with Nancy and Robin. He couldn’t imagine why you’d need to get dressed up for that though. Steve wished your window was open. He would lean on his window sill, asking about your plans for the evening. He’d say it in that snarky Steve Harrington way. The way he knew would elicit an eye roll in response. But maybe you’d give in and tell him. Maybe you’d invite him to go with you. Or maybe Steve was letting fantasy mix with reality.

A car horn sounded from outside, pulling Steve from his thoughts with a jump. He didn’t realize he was still standing at his window staring at you. At least he hadn’t until you rushed to your window, trying to get a glimpse of the vehicle out front. Your eyes locked with Steve’s then and you could’ve sworn you saw him blush. You brushed it off, refocusing on why you had come to the window in the first place. Parked on the street in front of your house sat a van. A beat-up, rusty, falling apart at the seams, van. Steve’s gaze followed yours, also noticing the van below. A van he was more than familiar with at this point.

You bent over, pulling on your shoes as quickly as you could before rushing out of your room and down the stairs. Steve jumped into action then, doing the same from within his own house. He burst out the front door just in time to see you grabbing for the handle of the van’s passenger side door. Steve peered through the windshield getting a glance of the unruly curls that rested on Eddie Munson’s head. You hopped into the van and Eddie looked up, seeing Steve cut through his yard and head towards the van. You fastened your seatbelt and looked up, also catching sight of the boy rapidly approaching you.

“Eddie, please drive. Like right now,” you turned to the boy next to you. Your voice came out shaky and desperate. Definitely not the commanding tone you’d hoped for.

“Sorry, princess. Gotta see what the hair is so adamantly chasing us for,” Eddie shrugged and you groaned, throwing your head back. Unfortunately that only made Eddie laugh at you.

“If you leave right now, I’ll do anything you ask for the rest of the night,” you pleaded, clasping your hands together to beg.

“As tempting as that sounds, it’s a bit too late,” Eddie points to the window behind you. You turn, seeing Steve standing next to your window, hand raised in a wave. Eddie leaned over, arm reaching across your lap to crank the window down, because he knew damn well that you wouldn’t do it. Not when Steve was standing on the other side at least.

“You’re like a goddamn jumpscare. I hope you know that Harrington,” you spoke, folding your arms over your chest as Eddie retreated back to his side of the van. He could identify the hint of jealousy on Steve’s face all too well. It was the same look Steve wore anytime a guy got too close to you or made you smile a bit wider than normal. Eddie was well aware of Steve’s complicated feelings for you, even though Steve sure as hell wasn’t.

“Whatcha up to? I thought you were staying home tonight?” Steve asked Eddie, resting his hands against the van’s door. He was close to you, too close. You leaned back in your seat, putting more space between the two of you.

“Well, now I’m not,” Eddie shot Steve a cheeky smile and Steve just blinked in response. “Ok fine,” Eddie gave in, unraveling under Steve’s stare. He hated lying to Steve, especially now that they’d gotten closer. “We’re going to see some band play at The Hideout. We’ve had these plans for weeks. I lied about staying home,” Eddie rushed out and your mouth dropped in shock.

“One look into Harrington’s sparkly eyes and you're spilling your guts? Pathetic,” you groaned from your seat. Eddie rolled his eyes, focusing them back onto Steve.

“You think my eyes are sparkly?” Steve quipped, a smirk growing on his lips. You heard Eddie laugh beside you and you couldn’t help the scowl that formed on your face.

“Get over yourself, Steve,” you moved your hand over the window crank, threatening to roll up the window, but Steve stopped you.

“Wait! I wanna come with,” he spoke quickly, eyes darting back and forth between you and Eddie. You couldn’t help the laugh that formed in your throat. “What’s so funny?” Steve glared at you then.

“Well, for one, you hate metal music,” you began and Steve scoffed.

“So do you,” Steve tried to retaliate, but the smirk on your lips told him he was fighting a losing battle.

“Sure, I’m not the biggest metal fan, but I like it enough and I love the energy of the crowd. Plus Eddie and I have been doing this for years. It doesn’t even matter, you’re not coming with us so you might as well give up now,” you spoke, lifting your hand in a sarcastic wave goodbye.

“Good thing it’s not up to you then. It’s Eddie’s van. He gets to decide,” your head snapped in Eddie’s direction then. You glared at him and focused as hard as you could. When you were younger, you and Eddie were convinced that you’d be able to communicate with each other telepathically if you tried hard enough. It never worked of course, but it never hurt to try. Eddie understood you better than anyone. He became your number-one confidant since the day you met. Surely he could pick up on your brain waves begging him to bar Steve from your plans.

Eddie headed towards the band room at Hawkins Middle with his guitar case swinging in his hand. He was early, intending to warm up on his own before the rest of Corroded Coffin got there for band practice. Eddie flicked on the lights, expecting the room to be empty. But it wasn’t. You were there, in the corner of the room, tucked between some music stands. You’d been curled into a ball and looked up when the fluorescent lights came on, illuminating your hidden figure. There were tears streaked across your face after a particularly brutal day of taunts from Tommy and Steve. Eddie set his guitar down and moved towards you slowly.

“Are you okay?” he asked in a quiet voice, hesitantly approaching. You remained silent, rising from your spot on the ground and wiping away your tears with your sweater sleeve. “I’m Eddie,” he spoke again, extending his hand for you to shake when he got close enough. You told him your name but didn’t meet his hand with yours, not yet.

“But everyone calls me Baby,” your voice was hoarse from crying but Eddie heard you loud and clear. He was an eighth grader but even he’d heard about the poor sixth grader that the popular kids had been calling Baby. It had moved beyond just them though. All of your classmates, teachers, and neighbors had adopted the name for you.

“Well, I won’t call you that, not if you’re not comfortable with it,” Eddie reassured you. He had been victimized plenty by the popular kids. He understood what it felt like, which is why he was shocked when you shook your head. His hand fell back to his side.

“No, it’s ok. I’ve been telling people to call me Baby to help reclaim it, I guess. It took Marissa the librarian forever but she’s finally gotten used to it. My parents still slip up, but that’s to be expected,” you shrugged. What you didn’t tell Eddie was that it still hurt when the name spilled from Steve’s lips. You weren’t sure why it did. But the more you were called Baby by everyone else, the more desensitized you hoped to become to it.

“Reclaim the name?” Eddie asked, eyebrows furrowed. You nodded, suddenly unsure what the boy in front of you thought. “That’s pretty metal,” a smile stretched his lips and his hand shot back up between you, beckoning for yours to join it. “It’s nice to meet you, Baby.”

“You too, Eddie,” you mirrored his smile, finally placing your small hand in his. Eddie’s calloused fingers enclosed around the back of your palm and two became one. You were inseparable. Inseparable in everything except for the reoccurring nightmare scenario that kept popping up in your life. You’d been dragged in early on, being one of the last people to see Barb before she went missing. You’d caught a glimpse of her through your window, sitting on the diving board above Steve’s pool, when suddenly she was gone. You joined Jonathan and Nancy in their quest to find her and kill the thing that took her. It sucked to keep Eddie out of that part of your life, but it was for his own good. Or at least it was until this past spring when Chrissy Cunningham became Vecna’s first victim right before the poor boy’s eyes. Then you told him everything. Your two worlds fully merged, and you and Eddie became totally and fully inseparable.

Your glare bore into Eddie’s and you thought you had gotten through to him. You were wrong.

“Alright Harrington, hop in. Quickly though, I don’t want to miss the opening act,” Eddie conceded, turning to face his gaze towards the road ahead. He could feel you burning holes into him with your eyes. You rolled the window up as Steve opened the van's back door.

“We’re so working on the telepathy thing again. Evidently, you’re in desperate need of a refresher,” you grumbled and Eddie chuckled at how mad you were at the addition of Steve to your plans. Steve closed the van door, lounging in one of the bean bags Eddie kept in the back. After what felt like the longest ride of being tossed around the back of Eddie’s van, Steve was never more thankful to see The Hideout come into view. The three of you filed out of the van as the sound of metal music filtered through the bar’s closed doors. Much to Eddie’s dismay the opener had already started their set. It smelled like cheap beer and cigarette smoke, causing Steve to wrinkle his nose.

“Go get us some drinks from the bar. Baby and I will get us a spot up near the front,” Eddie handed Steve a few dollar bills, enough to cover both your drink and his own. You and Steve might hate each other, but you’d been around each other in enough alcohol-fueled group settings to know each other’s drink orders. Steve beelined towards the bar, yelling over the music to order your Dirty Shirley with extra cherries, Eddie’s Rum and Coke, and his own Long Island iced tea.

He spotted you and Eddie pushing through the crowd. You were in front of Eddie, his forearm thrown across the front of your shoulders to keep you close. The two of you stopped not far from the stage. You leaned up to say something in Eddie’s ear, your back flush with his chest, and Steve felt a rush of jealousy run through him. Eddie had told him countless times that the two of you were just friends. That the kisses he’d once shared with you while high were just meaningless, drug-fueled, pecks on the lips. That was a lie of course, but Eddie definitely wasn’t going to tell Steve about the way you moaned against his lips until the two of you sobered up enough to feel embarrassed and swore to never speak of it again. Sometimes Steve needed to be lied to about certain things, mainly so Eddie wasn’t on the receiving end of Steve’s right hook.

The bartender placed the drinks in front of Steve in exchange for the wad of cash slapped on the counter. Steve grabbed all three glasses and began his trek through the tightly packed crowd. He’d gotten really good at holding a bunch of stuff in his hands at once during his brief stint at Scoops. Steve made it up to you and Eddie, passing the drinks to each of you. The three of you watched the opening band’s set, dancing as much as you could with drinks in your hands and a packed crowd.

By the time the opener’s set was over you had sipped enough of your drink to expose one of the cherries in your glass. Steve couldn’t help the way his mouth gaped as he watched you fish the cherry out with your finger, popping the morsel in your mouth and pulling it from the stem with your teeth. Eddie eyed the boy next to him, amused not only by Steve’s aroused reaction to such a simple thing but also by your complete obliviousness to said reaction. Despite the lack of music coming from the stage as you waited for the headlining band to come on, Eddie still had to shout over the buzz of the crowd.

“Show Stevie the thing,” Eddie gestured towards the cherry stem between your fingers. You shook your head in protest, but Eddie gave you his best puppy dog eyes and you were instantly beat. You rolled your eyes, placed the cherry stem on your tongue, and closed your lips. Eddie brought his arm up, glancing back and forth between you and his watch. Steve was baffled by the coordinated performance that the two of you were putting on in front of him. After a few seconds, your mouth popped back open. You plucked the cherry stem from between your teeth and held it up for Steve to see.

“Seven seconds! That might be your personal best,” Eddie exclaimed while Steve looked closely at the stem. It was tied in a knot. He took it from between your fingers and was about to ask how you did it when the band came on stage. Steve’s hand trailed down to his side, tucking the tied cherry stem into his pocket. He wasn’t sure why, but throwing it away felt wrong for some reason.

The band was really good, especially the lead singer. He was only a few years older than you and he had gorgeous, blonde hair that flowed down to his shoulders. Steve had scoffed when the singer winked at you during their set, but you couldn’t hear the sound over the music. The three of you had a surprisingly good time together, although it's pretty hard to fight with such loud music blaring throughout the room. Eddie and Steve were tasked with finding a table after the band left the stage and you got stuck with grabbing everyone new drinks.

“That was actually really fun. How often do you guys do this?” Steve asked, his pants getting stuck to cheap faux leather as he slid into a booth opposite Eddie.

“Once every month or so. It depends on which bands are playing,” Steve was listening to Eddie or at least he was at first. His eyes had been scanning the bar, trying to find you. When he finally did, his expression hardened. You leaned with your elbow against the bar, waiting for the bartender to come back with the drinks, but you weren’t alone. The lead singer of the headlining band was beside you. He was smiling at you, and even worse for Steve, you were smiling back. Eddie noticed the change in Steve’s demeanor, the jealousy that now filled the hazel of his eyes. He tracked Steve’s gaze across the crowded bar, landing on you.

Eddie was impressed. He’d seen you bag your fair share of hot guys after a show at The Hideout, but never had you managed to get with the lead singer of the headlining band. Steve, on the other hand, was not impressed. He was livid. It didn’t help that the lead singer had just placed his hands on your hips, pulling you flush against him as he leaned in close to whisper something in your ear. Steve quickly slid out of the booth, stomping his way through the crowd of people, heading towards you. Eddie winced, knowing he should chase after the boy, but slightly curious to see what would happen if he didn’t. Steve pushed through the bodies surrounding him, stopping just in front of where you stood against the bar.

“What's taking you so long with the drinks?” He called out and your head shot up at the sound of his voice. The smile that had grown on your lips quickly faded at the sight of Steve. The singer, Corey, looked up from where he had just started to kiss your neck. He didn’t move his hands from your hips despite Steve’s pointed glances.

“Hey man, you’re kind of interrupting something right now. If you want a drink then ask the bartender or whatever,” Corey moved to face you again, but Steve wasn’t done.

“Hey man,” Steve mocked Corey’s words. “You need to take your hands off of her right now,” your brow furrowed in anger while Corey filled with confusion.

“Sorry dude, didn’t realize she was your girl,” Corey assumed based on Steve’s comment and began to move his hands, but you stopped him.

“I’m not, I swear. I barely even know that guy,” Steve scoffed at that and you shot him a glare. Corey’s eyes flitted back and forth between you and Steve. He looked more confused than ever, almost painfully so.

“I’m way too high for this. You have her, man. It's not worth the fight,” Corey held up his hands in defense. Eddie had just worked his way through the sea of people in time to see Corey back away from you, scan the crowd, and head towards some pretty redhead across the room. Steve looked triumphant as he turned his gaze back to you. Eddie thought you looked like you were about to go ballistic. He’d never seen you that mad before in his entire life. You looked even angrier now than you had when Eddie purposefully put gum in your hair and it got stuck so badly that you had to give yourself bangs to get rid of it. Eddie was about two seconds from sprinting out of the building to save himself from being a witness to what was sure to be Steve’s murder when the bartender, Dave, called out from behind you.

“Here’s that Long Island for you, Baby,” you spun around, revealing the Rum and Coke and Dirty Shirley that sat on the counter behind you. You thanked Dave, giving him a good tip, before turning back to Steve. Because even in your fury, you could still be nice to the waitstaff. You picked up the Long Island, marched towards Steve, and slammed the drink directly into his chest.

“Since you wanted it so fucking bad,” you pushed past him, not caring about the way the liquid sloshed over the lip of the glass, coating your hand and Steve’s shirt. You moved towards the exit, slamming the door open into the moonlit darkness outside. Steve took a second to process what just happened. He placed the remainder of his drink back on the counter before following in your path. Eddie groaned, grabbing his now abandoned drink from the bar and downing it. He grabbed your drink from beside his, knowing you’d need it when this was over, and followed Steve. You had made it to Eddie’s van and tugged on the door handle, cursing the long-haired boy for actually locking it for once.

“What the hell was that?” Steve called out from across the parking lot with his arms held wide. He was stalking towards you at a furious pace. You were so pissed that you didn’t even notice your feet dragging you forward to meet him in the middle.

“Where the fuck do you get off?” you asked in response instead of answering his question. Steve stopped when the tips of his shoes touched yours, scrunched faces mere inches from each other. “First you invite yourself along to Eddie and I’s thing and then you ruin my chances with the very hot lead singer of the band. You did that for what, huh? Shits and giggles? I don’t give a shit who you are Harrington, that’s too fucking far,” you yelled, rage boiling beneath your hot skin.

“He wasn’t that hot,” Steve scoffed, crossing his arms over his chest. Your eyes widened. Eddie, who had just made it out to the parking lot, was surprised there wasn’t steam shooting out of your ears at this point.

“Is that the only thing you fucking heard from what I just said?” you brought your hands to your forehead in exasperation. “You’re such an asshole! I thought it would end when we graduated. Like you’d grow up a bit after graduation day. Hell, Robin said you’d matured, changed, and left the King Steve shtick behind. Eddie is one of your best friends now, the boy you taunted for years. So what is it about me, huh? Why are you suddenly too golden-hearted to bully everyone else but you never stopped fucking with me?” you had gotten close to Steve, not that you noticed through your tunneled vision of anger. Your heavy breaths fanned across Steve’s lips as you awaited his response.

“I-” Steve opened his mouth to respond and then quickly shut it. He didn’t know. Well maybe he did know, somewhere deep down, but it wasn’t something he could say to you now. Not in The Hideout’s parking lot where a crowd had started growing around you. Steve stepped back, creating the space between you that you desperately lacked at the moment.

“That’s what I thought,” you stepped back too, turning to walk towards Eddie. You quickly stopped, facing Steve once more. “Do me a favor, find some other girl to lurk around for a while. It's bad enough that you live next door. I really don’t need you following me wherever I go like some fucking creep,” you spun on your heels again, grabbing the drink from Eddie’s outstretched hand and throwing it back like it was fruit juice.

Eddie unlocked the van and you slid inside, slamming the door behind you. Eddie’s eyes met Steve’s with a grimace. Eddie looked at you in the van and then back to Steve. Steve got the message; Eddie couldn’t take you both home together. Maybe Steve was the one with telepathy instead. Eddie’s remorseful eyes searched Steve from across the lot. Steve conceded, gesturing for Eddie to take you. He was the one that fucked up anyway. If anything he deserved to be the one that had to call a cab. Eddie shot Steve a tight-lipped smile before hopping into his van and driving off. Steve watched the van’s taillights as Eddie rolled through a stop sign, speeding off into the night.

The light in your room was off when the cab finally dropped Steve off at home. He wasn’t surprised, expecting that you’d be at Eddie's trailer, erasing the night from your thoughts with a shared joint. Steve trudged up the stairs, opening and closing his door softly behind him so he didn’t wake his parents. They’d be gone for another business trip in the morning, leaving one less thing for him to worry about tomorrow. Steve’s window was still open from earlier, allowing the cool night air to seep in. He laid back on his bed, thoughts racing in the silence. And that’s when he heard it. A soft sob, then a sniffle. A deep breath, then another sob.

Steve sat up, his gaze aimed in the direction of the sound. His eyes landed on you, sitting on the floor of your darkened room with your back against your bed. Your window was cracked open, the way you normally kept it at night, allowing the birds to wake you with their songs in the morning. Steve stood, moving towards the window. You couldn’t see him from this angle, not that you would have been able to regardless with the tears clouding your vision. Steve frowned. An ache in his chest, the same one he’d felt whenever he heard you cry, flourished within him. He wanted to comfort you. To wrap an arm around you and let cry into his chest. To tell you it would be okay and ask who’s ass he needed to kick. But he couldn’t. You weren’t friends. You hated him. And it’s not like he could kick his own ass.

He didn’t realize, didn’t even feel it, but a tear slipped down his cheek, matching the flood that crowded yours. Steve lifted his hands to rest on the window, leaning against it as his brows furrowed over the broken look on your face. He pushed down, shutting the window softly, locking it, and closing the curtains. He couldn’t listen to you cry anymore. He remembered what you said, and he didn’t want to linger. The tear rolled off Steve’s chin, drowning a little unsuspecting green soldier on the window sill below. Steve moved away from the window and laid back on his bed. He felt around his pants pocket and fished out the knotted cherry stem. Steve’s eyes roamed over it for too long before he set it aside on his nightstand and closed his eyes. He couldn't sleep that night, no matter how hard tried. In the quiet dark of his room, Steve swore he could still hear your muffled cries.

Drunk under a street light

Black and white flickered from the TV screen, illuminating the dark room that you lounged in. You were lazing on the couch, mindlessly picking at the bowl of popcorn in your lap. The movie playing across the room did nothing to pull your unfocused stare from the coffee table in front of you. It wasn’t until you received a light kick to the thigh that you could finally shifted your eyes away.

“Okay, ouch,” you glared at Robin who was lying across the couch beside you, feet practically draped across your lap. She sat up, digging her hand into the bowl of popcorn. Her perfume scent lingered in the air around you even after she pulled back. It was sweet and light like she had just finished baking a batch of sugar cookies.

“You’ve been begging me to watch Casablanca with you for months and you’re not even paying attention to it now that I actually am,” she lifted her hand towards the screen before bringing her handful of popcorn to her lips. It's true. You had been dying to get someone to watch Casablanca with you for ages. Eddie watched it once and then refused to do it again after he ended up crying at the ending. Rick Blaine’s selfless act of giving up his one true love to give her a better life brought tears to the cold-hearted boy’s eyes. He made you promise not to tell anyone, especially Dustin.

“Sorry Rob, I’ve just got a lot on my mind,” you apologized, trying your best to pay attention to the movie again. You’d been zoned out for the entire first half of the movie, not that it mattered. You knew exactly what was happening on screen, given that you’d seen the movie a million times. It got to a point where Steve started keeping a copy under the counter at Family Video so there was always one available when you came in.

“Are you thinking about Steve?” Robin asked, her voice overpowering Ingrid Bergman’s as Ilsa confessed why she left Rick alone in Paris. Your head snapped towards the girl beside you and you could see the faint smirk growing on her lips.

“Why would I be thinking about Steve?” you answered her question with your own. The smirk fell from her lips then and she rolled her eyes. Robin sat up, pressing pause on the remote.

“Because he was totally jealous and caused some huge blowout fight between the two of you. And when I say huge I mean huge. It’s been over a week and you still won’t even acknowledge that he exists,” Robin explained, turning to face you better. You sighed and faced her too. You tried to avoid talking about Steve with Robin. Ever since they became friends it seemed too weird to talk shit about him in front of her.

“First of all, Steve definitely wasn’t jealous. He’s just a menace that loves to torment me,” Robin snorted a laugh but didn’t interrupt, allowing you to continue. “Second, Steve and I aren’t friends so me not talking to him for a week really isn’t that big of a deal,” Robin shrugged at that, seeing your point. “And third, how the hell do you know about all of this?” a guilty look spread across Robin’s face and you quickly realized the answer to your question. “Eddie’s got a big mouth,” Robin nodded in agreement at your words.

“I would’ve figured it out regardless. Steve’s been moping around for days. He’s really beating himself up over the whole thing,” you chuckled and Robin shot you a confused glare.

“What? I find it hard to believe that Steve Harrington even remotely cares about anything that has to do with me. Well unless it has to do with making my life a living hell,” you leaned back again, digging your hand into the popcorn bowl once more. Robin just stared at you, obviously baffled by something.

“Has it ever occurred to you that maybe somewhere in Steve’s caveman brain all this ‘torment’ is actually his way of expressing that he likes you?” Robin asked and repositioned the blanket that covered her lap. You stopped mid-chew, considering Robin’s words. You swallowed hard, sitting up and placing the popcorn bowl down on the couch between you.

“So what, Steve pulls my pigtails on the playground and it’s all okay just because he likes me? That’s such a toxic ideology, Rob. Not only that, but the suggestion that Steve actually likes me is insane. I mean have you heard the worm story?” you felt defensive, as if you were being attacked even though you weren't. You couldn’t understand why your heart wouldn’t stop racing at the thought of Steve liking you.

“Of course, I’ve heard the goddamn worm story,” Robin threw her hands in the air, nearly knocking over the popcorn in the process. “And I didn’t say that it was a healthy way of expressing his feelings. It just might be the only way he knows how. It’s not like his parents are great role models in teaching him about love and stuff,” a quiet fell over the room while your head raced at Robin’s words. You’d been so wrapped up in your feud with Steve that you hadn’t taken the time to consider his life outside of you.

You knew Steve’s parents were pretty absent based on the lack of cars in the driveway. And it was well known across town that Mr. Harrington was an asshole, no need to grow up next door to figure that out. Steve adored his dad when he was younger, and talked about how he wanted to be just like him. But you had heard the fights that seeped through the open windows in the years that followed. The disappointment that filled Mr. Harrington’s face when he entered Steve’s bedroom and saw the movie posters lining the walls. You wondered then what Steve’s parents thought of his decision to forgo college. Whether they argued with his choice, fought with him to take a chance to change his future, or if they just accepted it, not expecting much else from their disappointing son.

“I hadn’t thought about that,” Robin studied your face as you spoke. You looked lost, like you were questioning your past with Steve. After a moment the hint of a smile graced your lips and Robin furrowed her brow. “Still doesn’t mean he likes me,” you quirked as Robin sat up, grabbing another handful of popcorn.

“Oh whatever,” she launched her fistful of popcorn at you, hitting your face with the popped kernels before they fell to your lap. You retaliated, throwing popcorn back at her. The popcorn fight quickly ended when Robin picked up the bowl, dumping the rest of its contents over your head. The two of you fell into a fit of laughter while you tried, and failed, to pick the popcorn kernels from your hair. Eventually, you gave up, resting your head on Robin’s shoulder, the crunch of the popcorn sounding off as you did. Her shoulder was bony, uncomfortably stabbing your cheek with each delicate press against it, but you didn’t mind. Neither of you was very touchy-feely with each other, though you were never sure why, so it was nice to have a rare moment of intimacy. It granted you a deeper understanding of one another and a peak into the mysterious ways that each of your brains worked.

“Go to a party with me tonight?” Robin asked softly, not quite ready to leave the comfortable quiet just yet. You kept your head still on her shoulder and closed your eyes, inhaling sharply.

“Since when do you actively attend parties?” you questioned and Robin’s shoulder shook beneath you as she let out a gentle laugh. It was a comforting sound, like waves at the beach or rain on the pavement. That’s what Robin was to you. A comfort. Sure, Eddie was your best friend and you’d known him longer, but Robin understood you in a way that he didn’t. She controlled your chaos and balanced it with ease and truth. Robin matched your energy, knew what was best for you, and made you feel heard.

“Since Vickie asked me to go,” Robin winced out the words, anticipating your shift away from her side. Just as Robin thought, you lifted your head, turning to face her.

“So you’re not inviting me to go to a party, you’re inviting me to Third Wheel all night?” you raised your brow, eyes pouring into the girl beside you. Robin winced, shrinking into her spot on the couch. “Alright, I’ll go. Got nothing better to do anyway,” Robin cheered triumphantly at your concession, standing to go to your room and start getting ready together. You stopped her, gesturing to the popcorn that littered the couch and floor. She groaned, reluctantly helping you clean up the mess she made.

You’d walked to the party, arriving after everything was already in full swing. The sticky air reeked of weed and cheap booze as you pushed your way through the front door. It was sweltering inside the house. Sweaty bodies pressed themselves closely together on the dance floor, sipping on whatever deadly concoction resided in the punch bowl. Robin made a beeline for Vickie as soon as she walked through the door. There were familiar faces, people you knew from high school and whatnot, but no one you particularly fancied talking to. That is until you saw a mop of brown curls approaching with a black lunch box in his hands.

“I didn’t know you were gonna be here,” you called out over the boombox that was blaring music throughout the room. Eddie wrapped an arm around your shoulder, pulling you to walk along with him. He guided you to the kitchen, stopping in front of a countertop littered with booze. You weighed your drink options, eventually pouring some vodka and Sprite into a solo cup, disappointed at the lack of cherry grenadine. You held up a bottle of rum pointed in Eddie’s direction, but he shook his head.

“Strictly business tonight sweetheart,” Eddie patted the lunchbox in his hands. You nodded in understanding, bringing your cup to your lips. “Where’s Buckley?” he asked, suddenly noticing the missing girl that he was sure dragged you here. You didn’t even have to speak, just pointing your finger to where Robin danced with Vickie across the room. Her hair was already a mess and her cheeks were flushed bright pink. You were about to say something else, keep your conversation with Eddie going, when he received a tap on his shoulder. It was some jock looking to make a deal. Eddie gave your hand a quick squeeze in place of goodbye and led the guy to the back of the house.

So there you were, standing alone in a crowded kitchen, regretting your decision to come in the first place. If only Nancy or Jonathan were there to keep you company, too bad they were both off at their respective colleges. Hell, you might even take Steve’s companionship at this point, because the longer you leaned against this countertop, the more boxed in you felt. What you didn’t know was that Steve was there. He thought it would be a good way to get his mind off your fight, but as he stood in the corner of this too-hot house, sipping a lukewarm beer, and listening to his old basketball teammate drone on and on about how they should’ve won the championship game their senior year, Steve realized he was wrong.

It especially didn’t help when his eyes scanned the room and somehow landed on you. You were alone, searching the room, presumably for a familiar face, when he spotted you. Luckily for Steve, you remained oblivious to his watchful gaze, giving him some time to study you since he felt like he hadn’t been able to in ages. He considered going over to you, to keep you company, but before he could even take a step, someone else approached you first. Your face dropped to a scowl at the sight of the freckled boy who now stood in front of you.

“What’s wrong Baby? Not happy to see me?” Tommy asked, a devilish grin hiding his lips. Steve was rooted to the spot, unable to move. He wanted to march over to you, drag you away from the douchebag before you, but he couldn’t will his legs to trudge across the congested room. He was never good at standing up for you, especially not to Tommy.

“Is anyone ever happy to see you?” you asked, crossing your arms and keeping a close grip on your cup. Tommy looked you up and down, hungry eyes boring into your skin. Suddenly you wished you brought a sweater to cover your bare shoulders. Steve still watched you from afar, his stomach turning at the desire that lingered in Tommy’s expression.

“There are plenty of girls around here that love when I show up,” Tommy grinned, leaning in closer. He reminded you of a shark with his teeth bared, waiting for a lowly seal to stumble into his pathway. “I could show you why if you come upstairs with me,” his lips came dangerously close to your ear, muffling the music that rattled the room.

“I’ll pass,” you grimaced at his offer. Tommy’s grin faltered and you brought your cup to your lips with a shrug, trying not to look too smug at your denial of his advances. That must have been what set Tommy over the edge. He reached up, slapping the cup from your hand, ignoring the liquid that splashed over you both. His face leaned in close as his arms caged you against the counter.

“Fuck you,” he spat, his face close to yours. “You’re just some weirdo bitch anyway,” you were scared at that point, terrified even, but you remained calm. Showing your fear would be the worst thing to do. Steve’s heart raced in his chest as he watched Tommy corner you. He took a step forward, moving in your direction.

“A weirdo bitch that won’t fuck you,” you fired back at Tommy and his face turned red with fury. Maybe poking the bear wasn’t a good idea. Suddenly someone knocked Tommy to the side, freeing you from him. You looked up, seeing a flash of red hair and someone in a striped shirt. Vickie and Robin.

“Woah man, we were spinning around and kinda lost control. Didn’t even see you there,” Robin leaned down to where Tommy now sat on the floor. She shot you a wink when he wasn’t looking. Vickie offered him a hand, but he brushed her off, standing on his own. He looked around, catching the glances of some of the partygoers, and stomped off, too embarrassed to continue trying to pursue you. Steve had made it about halfway through the crowded living room when Robin and Vickie took down Tommy in some sort of weird spin attack. He stood there now, watching as they checked over you. “You alright?” Robin asked you while Vickie inspected you for any bruises or blemishes from Tommy.

“Yeah, I’m all good. Think I’m just gonna go actually,” you looked down at your shirt, taking inventory of how damp it was from your spilled drink.

“We’ll go with you,” Vickie spoke up, taking hold of your arm as if she would guide you out. You shook your head, sliding her hand down to yours and giving it a gentle squeeze before letting go.

“No, you guys stay and have fun. I’m gonna try and hitch a ride. I’ve gotta know someone around here that’s planning on leaving soon,” you had no intentions of actually getting a ride from someone. But you knew Robin would never let you go if she knew you were going to walk home alone and you just needed to get out of there. You would ask Eddie, but you knew he needed the money he’d make from selling tonight so you didn’t want to bother him.

“Okay,” Robin nodded, granting you permission to leave. You gave her and Vickie a two-finger salute and made your way to the door. “No rides home from anyone on the basketball team. Past, present, or future. I swear all of those guys are creeps,” Robin called after you, turning a few heads as she did. You chuckled, continuing on to the door.

Steve still stood in the living room, watching the three of you closely. His eyes followed you as you trekked through the crowd to the door. Once you finally made it outside, his gaze shifted back to Robin only to find that she was already looking at him. She motioned with her head to the door, encouraging him to follow after you. So he did. Steve threw away his half-drunk beer and burst through the door. You were already halfway down the block when he got in his car and pulled up next to you.

It was cold outside, especially for early September, a chill lacing the breeze with each gust. It definitely didn’t help that your shirt was still soaked through. You saw the headlights of a car approaching behind you, brushing it off as you shivered and pulled your arms close. It took you a moment to realize that the car hadn’t passed you yet. You turned your head, suddenly facing a maroon BMW with its windows rolled down. A groan escaped your lips, but you still bent down to peer through the window. Steve’s car came to a stop, a smile gracing his lips at the sight of your exasperated face.

“You stalking me now, Harrington?” Steve let out a chuckle and a gust of wind picked up, making you shiver again.

“You wish. Come on, get in and I’ll drive us home,” he studied your face, searching for a sign that you’d agree. He couldn’t find one, your body unmoving from your spot on the sidewalk.

“I’m perfectly capable of walking. Plus Robin said no rides from anyone on the basketball team,” you shot him a sly smirk and stood up straight, continuing your walk through the neighborhood. You’d expected Steve to drive off then, leaving you to walk in peace. But he didn’t, his car followed alongside you. “What are you doing?” you asked, stopping again to see Steve through the passenger window.

“If you won’t let me drive you home, then I’ll just drive next to you,” Steve shrugged, looking up at you.

“What if I cut through someone’s backyard?” you asked and Steve shrugged again, a smirk dancing on his lips.

“Then some people are gonna be really pissed to see tire tracks on their lawn,” he replied and you almost wanted to laugh at his persistence, entertained by Steve’s unwillingness to let you be alone. His smile faltered then. “You and I both know the kind of shit that lurks around Hawkins at night,” any amusement from before had slipped away. None of you mentioned the Upside Down much now, not after finally defeating Vecna. It was final, the battle that ended the war, destroying the Upside Down for good. You couldn’t help the lingering fear that you’d missed something, that one day it would all return. And here, on the sidewalk after some lame party, you realized that Steve shared that fear too.

“Ok,” you said simply, shocking Steve as you pulled on the passenger door handle and slid into the seat next to him. He waited until you buckled up before rolling up the windows and driving off. It was quiet in the car, the lingering tension of all the unspoken words swirling in the air. Steve heard the sound of your teeth chattering and your hands brushing the goosebumps on your arms. He quickly reached into the back, grabbed an old sweatshirt that sat there, and handed it to you. Normally you would’ve rejected it, your pride too inflated to accept help from Steve in any form. But it was cold, your shirt was wet, and your conversation from earlier with Robin still lingered in the forefront of your mind.

Steve didn’t expect you to take his sweatshirt so easily, replacing his hand on the wheel when he felt the weight of it lift from his palm. You pulled his sweatshirt on, reveling in the warmth it provided. It smelled like hairspray and lavender, a hint of boy mixed with the two. It smelled like Steve. Silence settled over the two of you again and Steve couldn’t stand it anymore.

“I’m sorry,” the words burst from within him, head turning to look at you for a moment. You looked calm and objective like Steve hadn’t even spoken in the first place. “The whole thing at The Hideout was so stupid. I don’t even know why I did that,” you looked at him then, expression still neutral. “I guess I just feel like I need to protect you and I took it too far,” your brow scrunched at that, finally giving Steve an insight into your thoughts.

“Protect me? You and Tommy tormented me for years,” anger rose in your throat. You hadn’t meant to get mad, still considering what Robin said, but Steve’s twisted claim brought it out of you in the way that only he could.

“I know, I know. And I’m sorry about that too. I just- I just wanted to fit in, to be cool. But I realize now that none of that shit ever mattered. I mean, how important was popularity when the one person that I actually cared about couldn’t stand me?” Steve spoke and the tension in your face dropped. The one person Steve cared about? Was he talking about you? You took a deep breath, thinking over your words when the car came to a stop in front of your driveway.

“Steve,” you spoke softly, almost a whisper, like the breeze rattling through the trees. “I can’t just forget about all of it because you’ve abruptly changed. I can’t just decide to be your friend all of a sudden. You hurt me, for a long time. Hell, you still do,” Steve winced, wanting to turn back time to when you were five, when nothing bad had happened to you yet and things were much simpler.

“I know,” Steve’s head sunk, his chest aching with each passing second.

“I just,” you stopped, jumbled thoughts bouncing around your head. “I just think it’s easier when we keep ourselves apart. It doesn’t hurt as much that way,” the streetlights above reflected the swelling tears in your eyes as they threatened to spill. You hadn’t meant to cry, and you surely didn’t want to. Steve understood your sentiments. Being around you only reminded him of how it could’ve been if he hadn’t tried so hard to fit in. If he hadn’t screwed it all up.

“But maybe we could try. Try to be friends,” the words surprised Steve as they left his lips. They came out far bolder than he felt capable of being at the moment. “Group settings, public places. Baby steps, you know?” Steve tried to stop the hope building in his chest, too worried about the damage it would do if you said no. But you didn’t.

“Maybe,” you said in a whisper, a tear finally tracking down your cheek. A soft smile slipped over Steve’s lips, the same one he wore around you as a kid. The same smile you saw before he traipsed over the hill, leaving you on the sidewalk with the worms. Your lips twitched upwards for a second before you pulled the door handle and exited the car.

The feeling of hope now took full form, blossoming in Steve’s chest, filling every crack and crevice between his ribs. He watched you walk up to your front door, still wearing his sweatshirt, slipping inside your house with a small wave in Steve’s direction. Steve put the car back in gear, pulling into his driveway next door. He shut the car off and leaned back in his seat, still unable to wipe the smile from his face. Maybe. He could work with maybe.

You drew stars around my scars, but now I’m bleeding

Eddie’s van was a mess. Your legs brushed against fast food wrappers while cigarette butts covered the floor, crunching under your sneakers. It smelled like weed and sweat with a hint of the black ice air freshener that you forced him to buy a while ago. It was early afternoon, the sun still high in the sky as Eddie made a right turn out of your neighborhood.

“Why are we doing this again?” you asked, shifting to look at Eddie. He had his hair pulled up into a messy bun that you insisted on doing for him. It was a rare and rather unwelcome hairstyle for the metalhead, but it was well warranted for the occasion.

“Because Buckley wants to learn how to play basketball and Harrington asked for my help,” Eddie shrugged, approaching a stop sign and making a left. You rolled your eyes, letting out a huff of air from your chest.

“But you hate basketball,” you groaned, wondering why Robin would even want to learn how to play in the first place.

“Yes, but they’re my friends and they asked for my help, so my help they shall receive,” normally you would have laughed at Eddie’s goofiness, but the thought of being around Steve loomed over your head. You still hadn’t seen each other since the party, just glimpses through bedroom windows. It was hard to say where either of you stood with each other. Becoming friends seemed like an impossible feat on your part, too stuck in the past to care about the potential future.

“Okay, so why am I included in this? Steve didn’t ask for my help,” you pulled your feet from the trash-covered floor, finally sick enough of how the garbage touched your ankles. Your feet rested on the seat and you hugged your knees close to your chest. Your head sat atop them, watching Eddie closely with narrow eyes, trying to figure out if this was some scheme to get you near Steve.

“Each team needs two players, Baby. Kind of hard to play a two v. two with only three people,” you let out another groan and Eddie smirked in response, knowing you couldn’t refute him anymore. He made a sharp right turn, pulling up to the outdoor basketball courts that sat behind the high school. Eddie turned off the engine and tapped your knee. It was his way of telling you to get out of the car and lock your door behind you. The two of you began your walk over and could just barely make out three figures through the holes in the chain link fence that surrounded the basketball courts.

“You know, I don’t think I’ve ever seen you wear athletic shorts before. I might pass out at the sight of your legs,” you said to Eddie as the two of you walked through the gate, entering the basketball court. You barely had time to accentuate your comment with a smirk before Eddie leaned in close.

“Reel it in, Baby. Best not to flirt with me in front of Harrington. Wouldn’t want to risk him getting jealous again,” your face grew hot at Eddie’s comment, the thought of a jealous Steve stirring something deep in the pit of your stomach, something like desire. Eddie donned a stupid smile as you approached Robin, Steve, and Lucas in the middle of the court.

“What’s up with you?” Steve asked, noticing your flustered appearance. Your eyes darted back over to Eddie, who continued to wear the same shit-eating grin as before.

“Nothing, just ready to play some basketball,” you deflected and Steve nodded, covering the basic rules of the game. Lucas was acting as the referee for the match, making it feel much more intense than it should have. That’s probably why you took it so seriously, covering Robin as if your life depended on it. Steve won the tip-off, sending the ball back to Robin. She caught it and began to dribble towards the basket. She looked like a baby deer trying to walk for the first time as she made her way up the court, nearly smacking the ball away from herself in the process. You used it to your advantage, managing to grab the ball from her, dribbling up the opposite side of the court, and scoring a basket from the three-point line. Steve retaliated after that, shooting his own shot and tying the score. It continued like that for a bit, Eddie and Robin eventually gave up on trying to cover the both of you, which was how you ended up in front of Steve, desperately attempting to block his shot.

“Worried you’re gonna miss?” you taunted as Steve dribbled in front of you, your back to the basket. A cocky smirk overtook his lips then, bringing the ball up to shoot. It would’ve gone in too, if you hadn’t smacked it out of the air, stealing it for yourself. You sprinted down the court towards the other basket with Steve hot on your trail. He managed to get in front of you and you turned your back towards him, protecting the ball in the meantime before you could get a clear shot. “Come on, Harrington. I thought you were the team captain back in high school. Figured you’d be better than this,” you knew it was dangerous, teasing him in such a flirty way, but it was all in good fun, right?

“Oh, I’ll show you, Baby,” Steve practically whispered into your ear, his chest pressing against your back. If you weren’t so focused on beating Steve you would’ve felt the goosebumps that littered your spine. Steve’s arms came up to circle you, so you moved, pivoting to take your shot and knocking Steve out of the way in the process. He lost his balance as the ball left your fingertips. You felt Steve’s hands find your torso as you watched the ball tip into the basket, dragging you down with him as he fell. Your shirt had ridden up when you made your shot, causing Steve’s fingers to brush against your bare skin. It felt like you were falling in slow motion until you finally landed hard on top of Steve, your back flush to his chest.

Pain shot up your sides as Steve’s fingernails scraped against the semi-healed scars that resided there. You got up quickly, not taking the time to register your pain, lifting your shirt again to see that the wounds had broken open on both sides. It took Steve a second to get up after hitting the ground so hard. The others rushed toward the two of you, but your eyes landed on Steve, his gaze already honed in on the fresh blood pooling on your skin. His hands came down to his own torso, feeling the scarred flesh that matched yours.

After everything was said and done, the dust settled and Vecna gone for good, there was only the matter of medical care to worry about. Eddie was mostly unscathed, with a few bat bites here and there, but nothing some disinfectant and band-aids couldn’t fix. Lucas was sure to have a swollen eye, cuts, and bruises after fighting Jason. Max was delivered to the hospital where the doctors said she would make a full recovery but might need a pair of glasses. Which just left you and Steve. You had jumped in right after him at Lover’s Lake, fighting your way through the water as he was tugged deeper below. When you popped out of the gate mere seconds after him, the bats swarmed you too. It wasn’t until Nancy appeared, oar in hand, that you managed to escape the feeling of the bat’s teeth sinking into your skin.

The bats had gotten you good, doing just as much damage to you as they had to Steve. When the fight was over and everyone was safely right-side-up, you refused to get medical care, worried that you’d be poked and prodded while Owens’ doctors tried to study your wounds. Steve refused too, unwilling to be treated unless you were first, not that you knew that.

Robin and Eddie insisted on staying with the two of you to make sure nothing bad happened in the middle of the night. But you said no, pointing out that Eddie needed to stay hidden until his name was cleared. Not to mention that you just wanted to be alone after the strenuousness of the previous few days. You assured Robin and Eddie that your parents would take care of you if anything happened, same with Steve. They reluctantly agreed, dropping you and Steve off in front of your house, leaving the two of you to go your separate ways.

You were about to trudge up the lawn and enter your house, thinking about finally being able to sleep, when you caught sight of Steve’s empty driveway. You hadn’t even thought about the fact that his parents were out of town, and he hadn’t mentioned it to Eddie or Robin either. Steve had already started walking towards his house when you called his name.

“You didn’t say that your parents weren’t home,” you jogged up to him, wincing at the pain that shot up your side. Steve shrugged, also looking desperate for a decent night of sleep. Steve turned around again, continuing towards his house, leaving you on his lawn. You started following him until he saw you from the corner of his eye and stopped again.

“What are you doing?” the words sounded twisted as they fell from his lips, the same venom you expected from the boy who bullied you for years. Your face grew hot with anger, suddenly wondering if you should just turn back around and retreat to your house.

“You can’t be alone tonight, not when you’re in such bad shape,” you crossed your arms over your chest, trying to come across firmly in an attempt to discourage Steve from arguing with you. He simply raised a brow in question.

“I think I’ll be fine,” he moved to turn on his heel again, to scale his front steps and enter the cold empty house before him. But your arm shot out, landing on his arm and stopping him in his tracks. Steve froze, mind racing at the feel of your skin against his. He couldn’t remember the last time you touched him, given that you usually kept your distance whenever he was near.

“Steve, I can’t leave you alone in good conscience. If you bleed out and die, that’s on me,” you spoke the words quietly, almost sounding embarrassed to have to say them at all. Steve studied you, eyes roaming over your face. The walls you kept up around him seemingly fell in that moment as he caught sight of the worry hidden deep in your gaze. He nodded then, giving in and leading you to his front door, trying not to look visibly upset when your hand no longer held him.

The house was just as you remembered from when you were a kid. Clean and organized, everything in its designated place. It always frightened you back then, a house so pristine that it didn’t look like anyone could possibly live there. You followed Steve as he ascended the staircase, both of you winded and clutching your wounds when you got to the top. Steve showered in the bathroom attached to his room, offering you a towel and clean clothes before sending you off to the guest bathroom.

The hot water pulsed down on you, blood and grime swirling around the drain at your feet. The water seared your skin with each drop, but you didn’t mind, hoping the sweltering heat would rid you of the horrors you’d witnessed within the past few days. The sight of Eddie being tackled to the ground by a swarm of bats. The sound of Steve’s screams as his flesh was torn open. Your own wails of pain as the bats did the same to you a few feet away. Max’s broken limbs and unfocused eyes as Lucas held her in his arms on the way to the hospital.

You turned the shower off, unwilling to let your thoughts run rampant anymore. You were careful when drying off, avoiding your wounds to keep blood from soiling Mrs. Harrington’s stark white towels. She’d be sure to have a fit at the sight of a stain. You dressed quickly, pulling Steve’s old shirt and baggy sweatpants on. There wasn’t a first aid kit in the guest bathroom, so you headed back to Steve’s room, holding your shirt away from your body to avoid getting blood on it. You knocked gently on Steve’s bedroom door and it only took a moment for him to open it for you.

His hair was wet, a towel draped over his bare shoulders. He was shirtless, sweatpants hanging low on his hips as water dripped down his hairy chest. Your eyes lingered there for a moment before trailing to the bandages wrapped around his torso. Steve’s eyes followed yours, landing on the gauze tied tightly to his skin.

“I seem to get the shit beat out of me anytime something like this happens,” he used his towel to gently pat his hair dry. “I’ve gotten pretty good at patching myself up,” Steve shrugged, hanging the towel on the back of his bathroom door.

“Can you do mine?” you asked quietly, lifting your shirt to reveal your wounds. Steve’s gaze flickered down to them, blood from each gash threatening to spill down your sides. His breath caught in his chest at the sight of your exposed skin. It was dumb, just your stomach on display, but it took Steve a second to contain himself. It was nothing he hadn’t seen before, memories of your bare skin seen on the few occasions that you forgot to close your curtains before changing. Steve always looked away, but the flashes of your skin were seared into his brain. He nodded in response to your question, going into the bathroom with you trailing behind him. He told you to sit on the counter, pulling out the first aid kit from the cabinet next to your dangling legs. Steve wiped each wound with an antiseptic wipe, cleaning the area and sopping up the thin blood that surrounded it. His hands were gentle and soft like he was afraid to touch you, to break you.

“Hold this,” Steve placed a gauze pad on one of the wounds, his fingers guiding your hand to rest over it, holding it in place. He ignored the tingle in his fingers as his skin brushed yours, moving on to place another pad over the other blemish. Your hand came up automatically, holding it in place without Steve having to tell you again. He unraveled the rest of the gauze, slowly wrapping it around your waist, softly brushing your hands away when he no longer needed you to hold the pads in place. Steve circled it around you a few times, finally securing the gauze tightly in place with a swift knot.

“Thank you, Steve,” you whispered, his face close to yours. Steve hummed in response, letting his eyes drift to your lips for a moment too long before pulling himself away and packing up the first aid kit. He returned it to the cabinet, his shoulder brushing your leg in the process, sending chills down his spine.

Steve stood then, opening the linen closet by the door, searching for a blanket to give you in case the guest room got too cold. You were tired, to the point of exhaustion really, longing to lay your head against a soft pillow. But fear came creeping in, the demons in your closet, or the demogorgons rather, holding your mind hostage. The fears controlled you then, in combination with the exhaustion, speaking words from your lips that you otherwise wouldn’t have even considered muttering.

“Can I sleep in here? With you?” when you were first dropped off all you could think about was finally being alone, but as you sat there now, Steve's clothes covering your skin, you realized that wasn’t what you wanted at all. Steve froze, and his quest to find a blanket quickly halted. He looked up at you, taking in the heavy bags under your eyes, the weight of the past few days slumping your shoulders forward. He knew under normal circumstances that you never would have asked, and probably couldn’t have even stood being in the same room as him for more than two minutes, but these weren’t normal circumstances. And he would take what he could get.

“Yeah, okay. I’ll sleep on the floor. You can take the bed,” Steve turned to the linen closet once more, searching for a blanket for himself this time. He heard you slide off the counter, thinking you’d brush past him and get into his bed, but you didn’t. You stopped next to him, pulling Steve’s focus to you.

“You can’t sleep on the floor. What if you bleed out? I’d never know if you were down there. At least not until the morning,” Steve placed his hands on your shoulders, ceasing your seemingly endless babble. Your eyes were wide and bloodshot, staring back at Steve with a worried brow.

“Okay,” he agreed, trying to calm himself, the jitters of being so close to you creeping in. “We’ll both sleep in my bed,” his hands fell to his sides and you let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding. Steve left the bathroom, turning out the light as he did. You slid into Steve’s bed, the sheets pulled up around you as Steve switched off his lamp. The bed dipped beside you from Steve’s weight. You went to roll over, trying to face him, but you were met with pain, gasping and clutching your side with a hiss. Steve shot up, trying to help you but only injuring himself with his sharp movement in the process. You couldn’t help but laugh as you both settled down onto your backs.

“Aren’t we a pair,” you mumbled and Steve chuckled beside you. The room was dark, filled with the scent of a burned-out candle, Steve's lavender-scented shampoo, dirty laundry, and something else inherently Steve. Your eyes watched the ceiling, lying in silence next to the boy you supposedly hated. He rustled around beside you, trying to get comfortable. In a normal situation, you would’ve snapped at him for moving the bed so much, but right now you found it amusing. After another minute of restless movement, he let out a groan.

“I normally sleep on my stomach, but this shit makes it impossible,” annoyance laced his tone as he referred to the bat bites lining the front of his stomach. Your head turned in his direction, silently taking in his side profile, his sharp nose, and long eyelashes. He almost looked normal if you ignored the angry ring of red flesh lining his neck.

“I’m a side sleeper,” you spoke softly, Steve’s head turning towards your voice. For some reason, he liked hearing more about you, even if it was just something as silly as how you normally slept. “I’m in the same boat as you, Harrington,” the wounds on your sides making it impossible to lay that way. Steve could just make out the shadows of your face in the dim light. The curve of your lips, the arch of your brow, the tip of your nose. He thought you looked beautiful. “I’m sorry I couldn’t stop them. I’m sorry I couldn’t stop the bats from getting you,” your lip quivered then, tears welling in your eyes as you lived up to your crybaby nickname. You weren’t sure where the burst of emotion came from, chalking it up to the exhaustion that weighed heavily upon you. Steve lifted his head, his hand coming up to brush away your tears.

“Are you kidding? You jumped in right after me. If you hadn’t been there I would’ve been dead in less than a minute. You distracted some of them. I would’ve been bat food if not for you. If anyone’s sorry it should be me,” you shook your head and Steve’s hand came down to rest on your cheek, thumb rubbing circles against it gently as he spoke. Why were you letting him hold you like this? Why did it feel so comforting? You sniffled, trying to stop your tears from falling. “Baby, you saved me. I need you to know that,” you nodded at his reassurance, too choked up still to use your words. Your eyes were heavy by then, the lack of sleep weighing in on you even more.

“I'm glad I went through that gate then,” you mumbled, words barely audible through your sleep-slurred speech. With the last of your energy, you moved, rolling onto your stomach, the wounds on your sides untouched by the mattress. Steve followed your lead, moving onto his side, and facing you. His arm draped across you, careful to avoid your wounds, and a soft sigh left your lips as your eyes slowly closed. Your breath evened out soon after, slowed inhales and exhales taking over. Steve’s fingers found the bulge of the cotton pads on your side, tracing across them gently, a comforting gesture that you’d never know about. He wished he had superpowers, the ability to heal you with just a touch. But he didn’t, so he’d do this instead, easing your pain with a soft touch while you slept.

When you woke in the morning you had the overwhelming urge to pee. You slid gently from Steve’s embrace, somehow managing to get even closer to him during the night. You tiptoed to the bathroom, not wanting to wake the sleeping boy. The large mirror covering the wall taunted you when you finished, urging you to take a peek beneath the gauze. You caved, hands gently pushing the gauze to the side. The bleeding had stopped and the gashes already started looking better. It was curious how well they had cleared up overnight, but you just shrugged, used to the strangeness of the supernatural by now. You climbed back into bed with Steve after putting the bandages back into place. You wanted another minute of peace, a moment, maybe the last of its kind, when you and Steve didn’t hurt each other. When Steve Harrington was still the boy you knew, not the one you’d grown to loathe.

“Shit Steve, seriously?” You winced as the blood began to trickle down your skin. “It’s a basketball game, not tackle football,” you lost your balance for a moment, Lucas’ arms shooting up to steady you. Steve stood speechless, incapable of fathoming how his hands did so much harm to you. The skin had never quite healed right, you suppose, more fragile than most other places on your body. “Eddie, can you take me home,” you asked, trying to keep your shirt from getting wet with blood, knowing your shorts were a lost cause with scarlet droplets already pooling at the waistband. Eddie nodded quickly, rushing to your side as if he had to carry you to the van.

“I can take you. I mean, I live next door. I’ll clean you up,” Steve suddenly was able to find words, knocked out of his stupor. He moved towards you then, but you raised your hand, stopping him in his tracks.

“I asked Eddie,” you spoke with a glare, already walking toward the court’s exit. Eddie shot Steve a sympathetic look before following behind you. Robin lifted her hand to comfortingly pat Steve’s back while his mouth fell slightly agape. You got into the van with a wince and Eddie closed the door for you. Robin, Steve, and Lucas were filing off the court then. Steve’s head was down while he unlocked his car. Eddie turned the keys in the ignition, started the van, and began to pull out of the lot.

It was an accident, you knew that, so why did it frustrate you so much? The same hands that once held yours as children now were the ones to lacerate your skin. Maybe it was the ache you buried deep inside, the one you’d never been able to alleviate, the pain Steve perpetuated for years. The one you hadn’t been able to forgive him for no matter how hard you tried, no matter how much you wanted to. He left you, tossed you aside like you were some old sweater discarded beneath his bed, like you were nothing. It seemed never-ending like you’d never escape his harmful grasp. You wanted to be five again when the world seemed so much kinder and you loved Steve Harrington. Maybe the latter was still true, maybe that’s why he scarred you more than the others ever had.

As Eddie drove towards the exit, your gaze drifted up, landing on Steve. Robin and Lucas had already gotten into Steve’s car, but he stood outside of it, arms resting on the crook between the car’s roof and the door. His eyes followed you through the van window as Eddie sped away. A strange look overtook Steve’s face, one you couldn’t quite read. It was the look of a boy that never wanted to hurt you, but somehow constantly did.

I knew you’d haunt all of my what-ifs

The sun hid behind the clouds, peaks of light streaming through the cracks in the sky. Tires rolled against the pavement, making their way across town. The radio was low in the car, some Fleetwood Mac song lulling softly through the air. Your car was old, covered in dents and scratches, with windows that only opened halfway and an engine that grumbled with each press to the gas pedal. Even though your parents offered to help you buy a new one, a more reliable form of transportation, you refused. This car held too many memories in its stained cloth seats. Your first kiss in the backseat, jam sessions with Eddie, driving Will, Mike, Dustin, and Lucas to the science fair where they finally got first place again. You couldn’t let it go, not yet, not while it still had some life in it. You knew how much it sucked to be abandoned.

The tires screeched and squealed as you turned into the Family Video parking lot. You pulled into a space near the front of the store, dim headlights shutting off when you pulled the keys from the ignition. Robin had told you she was working today, but as you looked around you were unable to find her bike in its normal place on the bike rack. You did however spot a maroon BMW parked near the back of the lot. That lying bitch. A sigh fell from your lips, eyes closing at the thought of seeing Steve. It had been two days since the basketball incident and you had been sure to keep your distance. Steve’s sorry eyes peeked through bedroom windows and only made you feel guilty for getting mad at him in the first place. But you couldn’t stall this any longer, the movies were due today and you’d be pissed if you got another late fee. So you grabbed the tapes from the passenger seat, holding them close to your chest as you closed your car door and walked through the entrance to Family Video.

Steve stood hunched over the counter, the same way he normally did when the store was empty like it was now. His eyes were glued to the magazine that rested on the counter before him. It was a Cosmopolitan. He was ashamed to admit that he was searching its pages for tips on how to get back in your good graces. So far he was coming up short, but he still skimmed through it anyway. The bell rang above the door, signaling to Steve that a customer had entered.

“Welcome to Family Video. My name’s Steve. Let me know if you need help with anything,” the words spilled from Steve’s lips automatically, his gaze still glued to the magazine. It took Steve a moment to register the silence he received in response, brushing it off as another inconsiderate customer. At least that’s what he thought until a stack of tapes slammed down on the counter beside him. Steve looked up then, seeing you standing across from him with raised eyebrows. Your eyes trailed down to Steve’s magazine, and his gaze followed yours. In less than a second, Steve had slid the magazine off the counter, quickly tossing behind him. You simply blinked, an amused smile blossoming on your lips as the magazine crashed to the floor.

“I want to return some tapes,” you couldn’t help the smirk that remained as you spoke, pushing the stack of video tapes in front of the boy. Steve nodded, picking up the first tape and scanning it back into the system. “What were you reading there, Harrington?” he could hear your smile through your amused tone, refusing to meet your eyes as he continued to scan your tapes.

“Sports Illustrated,” Steve lied, ignoring the way your lips pressed together to contain your smile. You couldn’t contain your laughter anymore, clutching your sides as giggles poured from your throat. Your laughter was contagious, causing a few chuckles to spring out of Steve too.

“Whatever you say, Harrington,” you composed yourself, finally ceasing your giggles, but the smile remained taut on your lips. Steve handed over your receipt for the returned tapes, expecting you to leave after clutching it in your hands, but you didn’t. Your feet drifted over to the movie-lined aisles and Steve couldn’t help but follow, tripping over his discarded magazine in the process.

Eventually, you stopped in front of a shelf, Steve watched the way you studied your options. When one finally caught your attention you leaned up, standing on your tippy toes to grab it. Your shirt rode up in the process, revealing the large bandages that covered the wounds on your sides. Steve’s heart dropped, the memories of the basketball game, the whole reason he had been reading that stupid magazine in the first place, flooded his mind. Just as your fingers brushed the front of the tape, seconds from getting ahold of it, Steve’s hand lifted it instead, offering it to you.

“Thanks,” you said sincerely, only then noticing the kicked puppy look on Steve’s face. You opened your mouth to speak again, but Steve beat you to it.

“I’m so sorry about the other day. I really didn’t mean to hurt you. I just got carried away,” Steve’s gaze drifted to the ground, missing the pity that swelled in your eyes. “I’m sorry this shit keeps happening. It’s just that when I’m with you I can’t seem to function like a normal person,” he lifted his head then, catching a glimpse of emotion in your expression. Regret? Or is it that underlying anger you saved just for him?

“It’s fine, Steve,” you assured him, but the boy wasn’t comforted. He opened his mouth to apologize again, but you didn’t let him. “Dude, I’m sick of hearing you apologize. It's fine. If anything I should apologize for being such a bitch about it. It was an accident, let’s move on,” Steve eyed you, unsure whether you were messing with him or not. But you were serious, hoping that the old Steve still lived within the boy in front of you, and that one day you could make amends. Maybe this was the first step, and if that meant forgiving him for something he accidentally did, then so be it. “Check me out?” you asked, holding the tape up for Steve to see. He nodded, going back behind the counter. He reached down, grabbing a copy of Casablanca from under the counter and placing it next to the movie you had just picked out, but you shook your head.

“You don’t want it?” Steve asked, suddenly wondering if you had been kidnapped and replaced by a clone. That was the only logical explanation for your behavioral change towards both him and your favorite movie.

“Kinda bored of complicated romances at the moment. Maybe another day,” Steve slid the movie back under the counter, keeping it there in case you changed your mind. “I heard this one was good though,” you gesture to the copy of Ferris Bueller’s Day Off that you had picked out.

“Yeah, Robin said that she thinks I’d like it. Haven’t had a chance to watch it yet though,” Steve scanned the tape, fixing his gaze on the computer, where he typed in the code for his employee discount. He did it every time you came in during his shift, thinking he was sly and that you’d never noticed, but you caught on a while ago. It came to light after a rousing argument with Robin about how she had been overcharging you.

You pulled a few crumpled bills from your purse, handing them over to Steve. He waited, knowing you were now going to dig around your purse until you found some coins, never willing to pay with anything other than exact change. After a few seconds, you pulled the coins out, two quarters, a dime, and three pennies. You placed them gently in Steve’s extended hand. His palm tingled with the brush of your fingers, quickly sorting the coins to alleviate the sensation. He handed you the bag with your tape when he finished putting your change away. With a small smile, you turned, heading back towards the door you entered through. Just as you were about to place your hand on the large handle and push it open, you stopped. Steve, who had been watching as you walked away, felt that dreaded sense of hope again, the one he felt so often when you were near.

“What time do you get done here?” Steve’s eyebrows raised, taken aback by your question. His mouth opened, fumbling for words as he checked his watch.

“Thirty-two minutes. Why?” you chuckled at his sudden nervousness. Maybe he really had come a long way from his days as King Steve. King Steve never would’ve struggled like this when talking to a girl.

“Do you want to watch this with me?” you held up the bag that housed the Ferris Bueller VHS, extending an olive branch. Steve’s response was immediate like he didn’t even need to think about it.

“Yes,” it was a simple answer, but you just nodded in return, a shy smile creasing the corners of your mouth. “We can watch it at my place. My TV is bigger,” Steve smirked, regaining his charming and flirty tone, the one you’d gotten so familiar with as a result of all the teasing. You rolled your eyes at the innuendo, smile still cresting your lips, and pushed your way through the exit.

“Whatever you say, Harrington,” you called out behind you, repeating the same words from earlier. Steve laughed, watching your retreating figure, the sway of your hips, and the swell of your ass. He looked at his watch again, still displaying the same time as when he had checked just moments before. Steve groaned into his hands. This was going to be the longest thirty-two minutes of his life.

You were enveloped in a book, sitting on your window bench when a light tap sounded off next to you. Thinking it was just the old house creaking or something, you ignored it, eyes scanning the next page. That’s when it happened again, and again, and again. You pulled back your curtains and flung open the window only to narrowly avoid getting smacked in the face by a pebble.

“Shit, sorry,” Steve swore, his cheeks turning red with guilt and embarrassment. He was standing below your window, pebbles spilling out of his hand. A week or two ago, hell maybe even a few days ago, you would’ve gone off on him, screaming about nearly hurting you and potentially damaging your window. But now, you just smiled, taking in the sight of the boy next door. Only Steve Harrington could make a romantic gesture nearly turn into a trip to the hospital. “I tried to leave you a message, but your curtains were closed,” you glanced over to his window, spotting the piece of loose leaf taped to it with the words ‘come over?’ scrawled in black ink.

“Give me two seconds,” you pulled your head back inside, closing the window behind you. As you did, a few of the army men on your window sill fell on their sides, no longer facing the window across the gap between two houses. Snagging the video tape from your desk, you ran down the steps, stopping in front of the mirror hung up in the hallway. Why did you suddenly care how your hair looked around Steve? Brushing off the thought, you continued, opening the front door to be met by the boy next door.

“Ready?” he asked and you nodded, following as he turned towards his house. You walked closely behind him, catching a whiff of hairspray, lavender, and cologne. Steve led you to the rec room in the basement, which housed the largest television in the Harrington residence. You handed him the tape and he slid it into the VCR before settling on the couch, a good two feet from where you sat. Neither of you mentioned the distance, just watching the movie and laughing at Ferris’ goofy antics.

As the movie progressed a chill ran through you, goosebumps prickling your skin. The Harrington’s seemingly liked to keep their basement ice cold. Steve noticed and pulled down the blanket that was draped over the back of the couch. He laid it on his lap, extending the end of it towards you. You accepted his silent invitation, closing the gap and sitting close with the blanket wrapped around the two of you. The rest of the movie was spent that way, thighs brushing against one another when either of you moved.

When the credits finally ended, with Ferris Bueller in his bathrobe disappearing from the screen one last time, you felt at ease. You hadn’t expected to feel so comfortable with Steve, but it was almost a relief that you managed to get through a whole movie without wanting to kill him.

“That was so good. Robin was totally right, I loved it. I'm basically Ferris Bueller so it makes sense I guess,” Steve shrugged and you couldn’t hold back the laugh that bloomed from your lips at his comment. Steve turned to look at you, a brow arched in confusion at your humor. “What?” he asked bluntly, a hint of amusement on his face.

“You would think that you’re Ferris,” you spoke, looking smug. Steve's lips stretched into a daring grin, curiosity getting the best of him.

“Okay, if I’m not Ferris then who am I?” Steve leaned in close and you rolled your eyes, shoving his shoulder.

“It’s so obvious that you’re Cameron. Sure, the people that don’t know you that well might think you’re Ferris, but I know you Steve Harrington, and you’re Cameron fully and completely,” your grin widened with Steve’s look of exasperation. His hand flew to his chest in mock offense.

“What the hell makes me Cameron?” his words still had the air of joviality behind them despite his faux wounded front. The corner of your lips faltered then, suddenly reluctant to divulge more about your characterization of the boy before you. You didn’t want to tell him what he already knew, that he and Cameron shared a strained relationship with their fathers, both all too afraid of disappointing the men who raised them. That up until recently both boys took all the shit that their fathers gave them, too freighted to stand up to them. You didn’t want to say any of it, which was fine because Steve already knew. From the second Cameron appeared on the screen, the voice in the back of Steve’s head pointed out each similarity that they shared. Silence settled over the two of you, smiles fading in the quiet room.

“If it makes you feel better,” you began, voice small and fingers fidgeting on your lap. Steve wanted to reach over and grab them, encase your fingers with his, but he restrained himself. “Cameron was my favorite character in the movie,” you nodded towards the TV screen that now reflected a blank blue shadow over the pair of you. Steve observed your bashful demeanor, thinking about how cute you looked when you got all shy.

“You would definitely be Jeanie,” Steve asserted, breaking through the uncomfortable quiet. Your jaw dropped at the comparison and the smile returned to Steve’s lips at your reaction.

“Ferris’s bitchy sister?” Steve nodded and you shoved him again. He righted himself, continuing to make his point.

“I mean, come on, it’s so obvious,” Steve repeated your words from earlier and you shook your head. “You’re both a little crazy in a hot way. Not to mention you both go for bad boys,” you glared at Steve, but he could tell you weren’t actually mad.

“I’m not into bad boys, asshole,” you defended and Steve’s smirk grew, his rebuttal already concocted in his head.

“Oh really? So it wasn’t you that hooked up with Billy Hargrove at Tina’s Halloween party two years ago?” your jaw dropped again, and Steve’s snickering filled the air. He reached over, pressing your chin up to close your mouth. You brushed his hand off of you in confusion.

“How the hell do you know about that?” you asked, confusion and curiosity coursing through your thoughts. “Did Eddie tell you? I swear to god I’m never telling him anything ever again,” you crossed your arms, waiting for Steve to talk.

“Hargrove used to brag about it to me and try to rub it in my face,” Steve informed you and your face wrinkled, filled with questions. “I guess he thought that it would make me mad since you and I used to be friends or whatever,” Steve shrugged, no longer smiling. He watched you, unsure how you would react to his explanation.

“Did it?” you questioned, and Steve shrugged again. He didn’t want to tell you that it did, that it took every fiber of his being to restrain himself from punching the blond boy’s stupid face.

“A little,” Steve lied and another silence fell over the room, but it wasn’t as tense this time. Steve waited a moment before speaking again, watching the way you avoided his gaze. “Why’d you even hook up with him? I thought you hated him,” Steve’s voice was quiet, unwilling to break through the low noise barrier that settled between you.

“You stole my copy of Pride and Prejudice,” you let out a sigh, gaze shifting to your hands that rested in your lap again. Steve’s brow furrowed, confused about the correlation between his question and your response. “It was the copy my grandma gave me when I was 11. I had notes in the margins on just about every page. You took it from my bag in homeroom the day before the party and refused to give it back,” Steve knew what you were talking about. He couldn’t remember why he took it, but he knew that he still had it, tucked away in his closet, in a spot that only he could find.

“But what does that have to do with Billy?” Steve still didn’t understand. Your hands ran over your face as you let out a sigh.

“You hated him and he hated you. I figured the enemy of my enemy was my friend, which wasn’t true by the way. I was super pissed about the book and a little tipsy. I needed to blow off some steam, so one thing led to another and we hooked up in his car after the party,” you were ashamed of it, regret filling you the second it was over. “I didn’t know that he was such a douchebag when it happened. If I had known how badly he treated Max and Lucas then I never would’ve done it,” you explained, still unable to meet Steve’s gaze, embarrassed by your past. Steve’s hand extended, tilting your chin with his finger, allowing your eyes to finally meet his.

“I shouldn't have taken your book, Baby,” Steve whispered and you gave him a soft smile in return. The nickname rang through the air and reverberated off the walls. Hearing it didn’t bother you for some reason. For the first time in years, the word didn’t sting as it fell from Steve’s lips. Maybe the tide finally turned, the war nearly over. It gave you a sense of courage, making you brave enough to let your next question out in the open.

“When Billy bragged about it, what did he say?” Steve was taken aback, wondering why you would want to know. Billy’s words were far from nice, if anything they were disrespectful and an invasion of privacy. But the way you looked at Steve now told him that you genuinely wanted to know, needed to know.

“It was really depraved stuff, like how your body felt against him,” Steve started and you nodded, motioning with your hands for him to continue. “He said you would start to breathe heavily when he kissed your neck. That you did this thing with your tongue when you kissed that felt insanely good. He said you moaned his name like it was made just for you to say it. That your thighs shook when you…” Steve trailed off, face flushed and unwilling to finish his sentence. He had started speaking slower with each sentence, despite the racing of his heart. The tension floated thick in the air, crowding the room and making it way too hot for the blanket draped over your lap. Steve wasn’t sure when his hand had dropped to your lap, brushing between your legs from over the blanket.

Your eyes were glued to Steve’s, unaware of the distance that disappeared between you with each passing second. His breath mingled with yours, tingling against your skin. Your tongue darted out, bringing moisture to your dry lips. The heat between your thighs ached to be relieved, wishing Steve’s hand would travel higher up your thigh as his jeans tightened at the sight of your gaze alone. The blue from the TV screen that coated the room disappeared as your eyes fluttered shut. Both sets of lips were centimeters from meeting in the middle when the VCR popped out the tape, landing with a loud smack on the ground. Steve had leaned on the remote while moving closer toward you, accidentally pressing the eject button. He knew he needed to fix the VCR, worried about its tendency to spit out tapes rather than the slow half push it was supposed to do, but he’d put it off, too tired after a long day of work. You broke apart at the sound, creating more distance as you moved the blanket from your legs and scrambled back, Steve’s hand falling into the now empty space. Neither of you could look up at the other.

“I wish we stayed friends when we were in middle school,” Steve said after a long span of silence. He never wanted to be your enemy, never wanted to drive you into the arms of an undeserving man. Your eyes met then, his were glassy, which was something you hadn’t expected.

“Yeah, me too,” your voice was small but sure, words speaking nothing but the truth. You didn’t remind him why you weren’t, something you would’ve done a week ago. Instead, you sat in agreement, pondering how different your life would be.

“I wonder what would've changed,” he spoke. It was soft, almost a whisper, and you longed to be close to him again. To feel his words fan across your lips instead of the empty space beside you. “If I would’ve been friends with Tommy, if I would’ve dated Nancy, if we’d be off at a college somewhere instead of this shithole town,” Steve was louder now, melancholy mixed with underlying anger. Even if you were finally able to be friends now, Steve couldn’t help but think about the time he missed out on with you and all the other lingering what-ifs.

“We could still get out one day. Leave the teen angst and trauma behind,” you sounded normal again, reassuring to Steve’s overactive thoughts. “Maybe we could go together,” Steve’s heart leaped out of his chest at your words, but he reeled it back in. It was still new, being able to talk without words slicing into the other’s skin. You looked at him with anticipatory eyes, awaiting his response.

“Just give me the signal Baby and we can be out of here before sunrise,” Steve extended his hand, this was a deal to shake on, a long-term agreement that one day you’d run away together. You grinned, accepting his outstretched hand, wondering about where you’d go. Considering if you were in love with Steve Harrington, if you always had been. Dying to know if he was in love with you too.

A friend to all is a friend to none

Autumn had officially begun, a chill in the air that persuaded the orange leaves to tumble from the trees. It was your favorite time of year, though you couldn’t help the twinge of sadness that swelled in your heart at the thought of leaving the warm summer sun behind. Eddie insisted that you come to visit him at work, his desperation ringing out through the static of the phone. After a few minutes of groveling, you caved and agreed to go, which is how you ended up banished to the backseat of Steve’s car on the way to the record store on main street. Robin had called shotgun, but you didn’t mind, having the entire backseat to yourself and stretching out your legs. Steve’s car smelled like pine trees and leather, hairspray and cologne, as it rolled along the pavement.

Steve pulled up to a parking spot in front of the record store, placing his hand on the passenger seat headrest as he threw the car in reverse. He turned his head towards the car’s rear, watching carefully as he backed into a spot, shooting you a wink before he faced the front again. You couldn’t help the warmth that spread over your cheeks, feeling like a bumbling schoolgirl with a crush. Ever since your movie night, your almost kiss, things had been different with Steve. Sure, there was still some teasing and the typical dirty innuendos, but it didn’t sting the way it used to. It didn’t evolve into slammed windows and drawn curtains, loud arguments and bruised egos. Something new coursed through your veins, your heart beating just to hear the sound of his voice. It was scary, the rush of feelings that you’d seemingly repressed for years, hidden under what you thought was hate.

“You coming or what?” Robin leaned back into Steve’s car to face you. The thoughts of Steve had distracted you and you only now noticed that they had already exited the car. You followed suit, unbuckling and sliding across the seat to get out on Steve’s side. He greeted you with an arm slung around your shoulder, purposely messing up your hair in the process. You swatted at him, smoothing your hair back down as you walked through the store’s entrance together. Music wafted down from the speakers that littered the ceiling and you instantly knew that Eddie had picked out whatever metal song was playing. As if he could hear the mention of his name in your thoughts, Eddie appeared in front of you, grabbing ahold of your wrist and dragging you towards the front counter. Meanwhile, Robin and Steve headed towards the back, searching for some Abba vinyl that Steve had been wanting for ages. The absence of Steve’s arm around your shoulder left you with a chill, the tingle brought on by his touch subsiding, but you brushed it aside following the long-haired boy.

You went behind the counter with Eddie, hopping up to sit in the space between the cash register and the pile of records stacked to the left. It was a familiar spot for you, somewhere you’d sat a million times, much to Eddie’s manager’s dismay. In this spot, you’d talk about dates that you went on, someone from high school who got knocked up or married, a new song Eddie was working on, and your hatred for Steve Harrington. But this time was different. Eddie remained silent as you perched before him, crossing his arms over his chest and peering at you with knowing eyes. He came to stand in front of you, his stomach brushing against your knees. You glared at him in response, already knowing the words that were about to crest his lips.

“You and Harrington have been awfully close lately,” a smirk danced across his face, arms uncrossing, hands landing to rest on your knees. You narrowed your eyes, placing your hands behind you, and leaning back on them.

“We’re sort of friends now, I guess,” you shrugged and Eddie leaned in even closer, pressing the back of his hand to your forehead as if he was testing your temperature. You smacked his hand away, earning a yelp in response. The grin reappeared on Eddie’s lips as he shook his hand to alleviate the pain caused by your slap.

“Friends, huh?” you nodded as his question, eyeing Eddie for his next move. Someone entered the store, the chime of the bell over the door alerting the both of you. But the two of you didn’t flinch, didn’t even spare the new customer a glance, too enveloped in your weird standoff staring contest. Instead, Eddie called out his standard greeting, welcoming the person to Rad Records, as his eyes roamed over you, searching for an unspecified answer. “Just friends, nothing more?” Eddie finally continued, needing more evidence to make his case, to find the answer to his unasked question. And you gave it to him, eyes darting away from his and legs beginning to bounce. Eddie’s jaw dropped, a gasp seeping from the open space between his lips.

“Shut the fuck up, Edward,” you rushed out, clamping your hand over his slack jaw. Eddie’s wide eyes trailed from you to Steve and back. His lips moved behind your hand, trying to speak, but you shushed him, refusing to let go until he calmed down. You cringed at the swipe of his tongue against your palm, but still held on tight. After a few seconds, Eddie stopped and you took it as a sign to set him free. Your hand retracted, falling limply onto your lap, where you wiped his saliva onto your jeans.

“Holy shit. You like him. You actually, consciously, like him,” Eddie whisper-yelled at you and it took a considerable amount of effort to not spontaneously combust at his words. It’s one thing to finally admit it to yourself, it’s another to hear it spoken out loud. Still, you felt like there was a ritual you had to play along with, like you had to deny the accusation.

“I so do not,” you spoke stubbornly, but Eddie could hear the give in your voice, knowing the truth.

“You totally do. The fact that it’s taken you this long to realize is insane,” Robin spoke up from behind you, startling you with her sudden appearance. You looked beside her, expecting to see Steve, but he wasn’t there. You didn’t know whether to be sad or relieved by his absence from the conversation.

“Where is Steve anyway?” you shifted on the counter, making space for Robin to rest her elbows next to you. Robin nodded towards the back of the store. Steve’s figure was obscured by the towering displays that littered the room.

“Some guy that he knew from the basketball team came in and started talking to him. Steve called him Jumpy or something. I dipped out as soon as I could, so Steve’s stuck back there now,” you cringed at the name that fell from Robin’s lips. Jumpy was the dumbass nickname of Allen Peterson, some douchebag that was friends with Tommy.

“Ugh, he and Tommy once broke into the girl’s locker room during gym and stole my clothes. I had to walk around in my gym uniform for the rest of the day. It was humiliating,” a frown bloomed on your lips, one that was echoed by Eddie and Robin.

“I remember that. They somehow never got caught,” Eddie’s eyes trailed to the back of the store, still unable to spot Steve. “You want me to kick him out?” Eddie’s eyebrows raised in question, almost begging for the chance to kick someone out of the store. But you shook your head, tapping his shoulder so he’d move out of the way. He did, stepping to the side, allowing you to slide down from the glass counter.

“I want to see if he remembers me. Maybe mess with him a bit,” Eddie and Robin waved you off as you walked towards the back, the top of Steve’s perfectly styled hair coming into view as you got closer. You approached from behind Steve, not able to get a good view of his face. You were still hidden, questioning whether you should continue with your plan or not. Wondering if Allen would do something to upset you, tease you, and make you feel small. But Steve was there, and how could he hurt you when the boy you loved was standing by your side? Just as you were about to take a step out, you heard something, Allen’s voice.

“Dude, I can’t believe you’ve been hanging out with such losers,” Allen’s words elicited a soft scoff from your lips. He peaked in high school but here he was calling you a loser? You wished you could see Steve’s face, to know what was running through his mind, the witty comeback that was sure to leave his lips any second now. But it didn’t. All you heard was the smooth sound of his laugh dancing through the store.

“Come on, man. They’re not that bad,” you brushed off Steve’s weak, delayed defense. At least he stood up for you in some regard, that’s what matters.

“Nah man, that Baby chick is nuts. I remember how weird she was in high school, always crying over something. Sometimes I just wanted to bend her over and give her something to cry about, you know?” Allen mimed thrusting his hips as his words hung in the air. It made you feel dirty and violated, like he had already touched you in the way he said that he wanted to. The boy viewed you as an object, nothing more than something to be used to satisfy his needs. Your eyes bore into the back of Steve’s head, willing him to speak up on your behalf. To defend you, to protect you, to punch this asshole in the face. But Steve was never good at defending you and all he did was laugh again. That irritatingly coy laugh, the one that set off alarm bells whenever you heard it. The laugh that belonged to the reigning king, not the boy you loved.

“Oh yeah, totally. One good screw would straighten her right out,” at that moment you could’ve sworn that the entire town could hear your heart as it shattered. You weren’t really sure when you revealed yourself from your hiding spot behind the bookshelf, but your eyes locked with Allen’s, and his stupid smirk dropped. Steve tracked his gaze, spinning on his heels to see you, tears welling in the corners of your eyes, forehead creased, and red-hot anger coursing through you. You turned, moving as fast as you could towards the exit at the front of the store. Steve chased behind you, his hand catching your arm right after you passed through the door. Eddie and Robin looked alarmed at the sight of you both stopped before the store’s glass front.

“Let go of me,” you spoke hotly, cursing the strength of Steve’s grip. Steve’s eyes roamed over you, catching the flicker of hurt that flashed across your face before you restored it to its angry glare.

“I didn’t mean it. It’s just-” Steve began, but you quickly cut him off, still trying to wrangle your arm from his grasp.

“I don’t give a shit what you meant, Harrington. I thought you changed. I forgave you for all the shit you put me through. Guess I wrong to think you were capable of being a decent person,” Steve’s eyes watered at your words, hating himself for making you doubt him and how he feels for you.

“I have changed. I don’t know why I said that shit,” Steve pleaded, he wanted you to understand, to give him five minutes to explain himself. But Steve knew this was it, you’d already made your decision, it wouldn’t matter even if he got down on his knees and begged. He’d broken your trust, said shit he didn’t mean, and now he’d lost you again, the same way he did years before, the way he never wanted to again. Steve let go of your arm, giving you the freedom you asked for when you first left the record store with him in tow. Your arm felt numb, empty, without Steve’s hand there, and you cursed your stupid heart for not wanting him to let go.

“I guess old habits die hard, Harrington. Stay the fuck out of my life,” your words spat from deep within you, fire coating each syllable. Steve watched as you turned, making your way down the sidewalk and turning into an alleyway between two stores. Eddie and Robin burst through the record store’s entrance, ignoring the autumn chill that they were greeted with as they did. Steve wiped his eyes, glad to have tears clouding his vision because he was not sure he could stand to see his best friend's face as he recounted the past few minutes to her. Eddie looked to Steve, silently asking where you went, and Steve lifted his hand pointing in your direction. Eddie took off, turning the corner to the alley to find you slumped on the ground, knees to your chest and head in your hands. He approached you slowly, pulling you into him when he finally got close enough. Sobs racked your body, chest heaving against Eddie’s as he held you in a tight hug, knees resting on the cement below.

“I hate him, Eds. I fucking hate him,” Eddie nodded in understanding, stroking your hair and pulling it from where it stuck to your tear-stained cheeks. “I should’ve known he’d break my heart again. I should’ve known not to let myself fall in love with him,” your tears soaked Eddie’s shirt and he froze, stuck on the words that fell from your lips. Love. Sure, he’d known you liked Steve, but love was different. Love meant more hurt. It held more weight. It meant that you set aside the past and moved on. It meant you finally gave in to the feelings that gnawed at your heart and your brain each night. It meant that Steve really fucked up.

Chasing shadows in the grocery line

Steve’s car finally peeled away and flew down main street, signaling to Eddie that the coast was clear. He walked you back to the now barren record store, save for his co-worker Terry, who was in the back unpacking a new shipment. Eddie asked Terry to cover for him and when Terry saw your tear-stained cheeks and red puffy eyes, he agreed, no questions asked. So Eddie put you in the passenger seat of his van and sped off down the road. You didn’t ask where he was going when he passed the street that led to your house, already knowing where he was taking you.

Eddie’s van stopped abruptly in front of his trailer. Wayne’s car was gone, signaling that he’d already left for work, leaving the trailer empty. It was getting dark, gloomy clouds blocking the sun as the moon rose in the sky opposite it. The porch lights flickered on, illuminating the shadows of your face through the cracked windshield. You caught sight of Lucas’ bike through the back window. It was lying on its side outside of Max’s trailer, thrown in haste. Normally it would’ve made you laugh, elicit a joke about young lovebirds to fall from your lips, but right now you couldn’t even will the corners of your lips to curl into a faint smile.

Eddie opened your car door, gently lifting you by your waist and placing you on the ground. You followed him inside, trailing behind him like a lost, heartbroken puppy with nowhere else to go. He led you to his room, indicating for you to sit on his bed, so you did. Eddie placed a soft kiss on your forehead, the kind a mother gives her child, and lifted your arms. He disrobed you of your heavy knit sweater, your way of protecting yourself from the autumn winds that pierced the air, and replaced it with one of his Black Sabbath shirts. You unclipped your bra through the shirt, pulling it out of your sleeve before tossing it to the floor. The action always amazed Eddie, drawing a laugh from his lips, but this time he remained quiet, too concerned over you to pay attention to much else. Next, Eddie unlaced your shoes, pulling them from your feet. You shimmied from your pants after, throwing them across the room, uncaring where they landed.

With a shaky breath, you laid down, facing the wall, your back turned to Eddie. Eddie pulled off his leather jacket, shucked off his jeans, and moved towards the bed. The mattress dipped beside you, Eddie’s body now close to yours. He pulled the bed sheets up to cover you both before draping his arm across your torso. You relaxed into him a bit, fingers and legs intertwining with one another. It was a familiar position, one you and Eddie had shared a million times, but his comforting touch wasn’t working quite the same as it normally did. Not when your heart hurt this much.

Eddie wanted to ask what happened, pester you with questions, and uncover the truth, but he refrained, knowing you’d speak up when the time was right. His heart ached at the feel of your body shaking against his, small sobs springing from deep within your chest no matter how much you wanted them to stop. Eddie only held you tighter, his arms practically crushing your ribs as his own tears began to well in his eyes. You stayed like that for a while, long after the sun fully sank beneath the horizon, leaving the room in complete consuming darkness. The wind caused sapling branches to scrape against the window, becoming the only sound to fill the lingering silence. You stopped crying after a while, wishing you could sleep the pain away, but remaining unsuccessful in your attempts.

Finally, you gave up, shifting to face Eddie, your forehead pressed to his. Breath intermingling, comforting you, letting you know that, yes, your heart may be broken, but you were still alive. Eddie studied you, unsure whether he should be the first to speak or not, but you quickly quelled that thought when you opened your mouth.

“Do you think you’ll ever leave Hawkins?” your question threw Eddie off, his brows scrunching in confusion. It’s not what he expected you to say.

“Not unless the band takes off, and certainly not without Wayne,” Eddie had thought about it before, considered moving to a big city where the lights never dimmed and the gigs would never end. But as much as Hawkins may have hated him, he could never hate it in return. He’d get sick of the city noise and never be able to sleep, craving to hear the chirp of crickets and cicadas instead. So when you asked, he was sure of his answer. But he didn’t echo your question back to you, already knowing that your answer would be a resounding yes. It would be tough for you to leave everyone behind, but you longed for something different, somewhere new to help escape the past and finally look forward to the future. Eddie was lost in thought, still wondering why you asked that when you spoke again.

“He’s exactly who I thought he was,” it was a whisper, one that could easily be lost, left hanging in the air with no one around to hear it echo off the peeling walls. But Eddie heard it, he absorbed your words from the silent room, wanting to know more, so you continued. “I thought he was different now, but it turns out he’s still the same, too wrapped up in caring about what others think,” fresh tears sprang in your eyes, a sob tightening your throat as you spoke. “I’m tired of fighting against his undying need to be liked. I’m tired of losing against it every goddamn time. I’m done,” there was a finality to your tone, one that caused Eddie to lift his head from his pillow, a questioning look on his face.

“Sweetheart, do you want me to talk to him? Figure out what’s running through his head?” Eddie offered, but he knew the gesture would be wasted on you. Once you set your mind to it, it was done. But he wanted you to hear Steve out. He wanted you to find a way to reconcile your differences. For all the pain and confusion that Steve Harrington brought, he also filled you with joy and light. You’d been happier throughout the past few weeks than Eddie had ever seen you, illuminating rooms simply by entering them. Eddie didn’t want that to disappear, to be forever obscured by a compilation of closed curtains and avoidant gazes. But he was met with a furious shake of your head.

“No, Eds. I mean it. No more Steve,” Eddie nodded despite the voice in his head yelling at him to speak up and try to change your mind. It was no use. He rolled onto his back, one arm resting under his head, the other still laid across you. You shifted too, laying with your chest pressed to Eddie’s stomach, head resting just below his. “I wish it was you that I loved. It’d be much simpler that way,” you’re not sure why you said it, maybe the cloud that formed in your head from the day’s events expanded, spilling all of your hazy thoughts through your lips. It was a sad wish, an empty hurt with truth behind it. But Eddie understood, his own thoughts reflecting yours, the telepathy finally working in a way. He wanted to take away your pain in any way he could, but not like this. Not when your heart was beaten black and blue, longing for a simple ceasefire to mend your open wounds. Not when that same heart belonged to another, an echoed call through the woods waiting for the birds in the treetops to sing back with an affirmative answer. Eddie loved you, but not in the way the both of you currently wished for. An irrefutable loyalty that would consciously be limited to platonic fellowship, no romance lingering from either party in the way you held each other close.

“I’m sorry, Baby,” Eddie’s whisper slid through the strands of your hair, a soft kiss placed overtop of it. You’d grown quiet by then, breath evening out as you were finally granted your wish for sleep. Falling deep into a slumber where you were still five and Steve Harrington tucked flowers behind your ears as he whispered to you about love.

Days had passed, an endless stream of the same heartache and emptiness that blended each rise and fall of the sun together, making it difficult to distinguish one from the next. Robin called you probably a million times, but you refused to come to the phone. Your parents opted to unplug the phone from the wall for a few days, growing tired of the incessant ringing. You knew she just wanted to talk about Steve, but that was something you couldn’t quite handle yet. You’d only plugged the phone back in to call out of work, letting them know you had a nasty stomach bug, not caring if they believed you or not. The curtains in your room remained closed with the little army men on the window sill replaced in their defensive stance. To you, this was war.

On the fifth day of refusing to depart from beneath your bed sheets, your mom entered your room, messing with the knick-knacks that covered your dresser as she did. A custom D20 from Dustin, a kazoo Eddie gave you for your birthday one year joking about how you could be Corroded Coffin’s lead kazoo player, a mixtape Robin lent you ages ago, a new pack of colored pencils you’d been meaning to give to Will, and a flower that had been dried and pressed into a glittery bookmark, all littered your dresser’s surface. Your mom grabbed the bookmark, admiring the way the lavender flower retained its shape despite being flattened so many years ago. It was the same lavender that grew from the ground beneath your bedroom window, decorating the grass between the Harrington’s house and your own. You watched closely as she eyed the bookmark, curiosity flooding your thoughts.

“I remember making this with you,” she spoke softly, a gentle cadence meant to comfort you, and it sort of did. “You came running inside with the flower and insisted that we save it. You said it was too important to let die,” she sat on the edge of your bed, bookmark still glinting in the soft glow of the lamplight. You propped yourself up on your elbows, wondering where she was going with all of this. She handed you the bookmark then, and you took it, confused, examining it as if you’d never seen it before.

“I don’t remember that,” your voice was hoarse from crying. It didn’t help that you hadn’t properly spoken out loud in days, too congested with the bustling thoughts running laps around your mind.

“You were five. And if I remember correctly a certain boy had been the one to pick the flower for you,” you understood then, she was talking about Steve. Part of you felt betrayed, like your mother was providing aid for the enemy, but the other part of you wanted to know more, why she wanted to talk about this, especially now. “We always assumed the two of you would be friends, lovers even,” she wagged her eyebrows at you and the corners of your lips ticked up at the gesture. “So it was strange to see the distance that grew between you, the pain you caused each other. I’d always hoped you’d resolve your differences, and fall back into the same ease you had as kids, but I know it’s more complicated than that,” her hand reached up, brushing softly against your cheek. You hadn’t realized that you were crying until her fingers swiped over the fallen tears. “I love you, my Baby,” her words were a whisper, gentle lips pressed to your forehead. She patted your leg through your comforter, standing up as she did. On her way to the door, she stopped, turning back to look at you. “Maybe some fresh air might help. A trip to the store?” she suggested and for some reason you nodded, actually thinking that it would be nice to leave your bed for a bit. She smiled, making her way out of your room to grab the grocery list for you. As she rounded the corner, one foot out the door, she couldn’t help but notice the tight grip you kept on the bookmark in your hand. The flower within it that was always in bloom. Something that could never die.

You opted to go to the store alone, wanting to drive with the windows down and the music up, drowning out the overcrowded space in your head. It was nice to leave the house, to be in an open space with autumn in the air. The crisp leaves crunched under your tires as you pulled into the grocery parking lot. You were so concerned about making sure that you had the list your mom gave you that you completely missed the maroon BMW parked on the opposite end of the lot. Once you had the list, you grabbed a cart, its wheels squeaking loudly as you made your way down aisles, grabbing item after item off the shelves.

There was only one thing left on your list, a bag of tortilla chips, which was your dad’s favorite snack food for some odd reason. You almost chuckled to yourself seeing how his scratchy handwriting interrupted your mom’s pristine list. With a squeal of protest from the shopping cart’s wheels, you turned the corner, eyes roaming over the chip options in front of you. You finally found what you were looking for and stood up on your tiptoes, the top shelf being just a bit too high for you to reach. A warmth washed over you as someone leaned into your space, large hands retrieving the bag and offering it to you. Your breath stopped for a moment and you found yourself unable to move.

“I’m just gonna put these in here then,” Steve spoke softly, placing the chip bag into your cart when you froze. He looked tired, with dark circles under his bloodshot eyes. His hair was flat, almost greasy looking, lacking his usual abundance of hairspray and product. Steve watched you, the way you shrunk at the sight of him and he felt as though his heart had been torn from his chest. He never wanted to hurt you, to make you feel less than what you were. And to Steve, you were everything. Steve opened his mouth to speak, an apology sputtering from his lips, but the sight snapped you out of your stupor, suddenly springing to action.

“I told you to stop apologizing to me,” your voice was firm and cold, nothing like the ease it held back at Family Video the last time he tried to right his wrongs.

“Just let me explain, please,” he pleaded, eyes soft, a glimmer of familiarity in them. For a moment you almost let him, finding yourself more than willing to listen to the boy speak. You were reminded of the comfort you found in the sound of his voice recently, the swell it brought to your chest. But that vanished when you remembered the way he laughed when talking to Allen, his vile words leaving your glass heart shattered across the record store’s stained carpet. It felt like a slap to the face, a cut on your cheek, a crack in your rib. You meant what you said, you were done with him. The boy before you showed no growth. He was still the same boy who called you names, taunted you in the halls, stole your favorite book, and scared off the boys you liked.

“No,” it was stony and resolute, an end to the conversation. You pushed your cart away, leaving Steve behind, your shadow cascading over him as you did. You made your way to the register and Steve followed close behind. He got in line behind you, but he stayed quiet, unsure what to say. He only had two things in his basket, which made his checkout go by quickly. By the time he got out to the parking lot, you were still there, placing the hefty grocery bags into your trunk.

“Let me make it up to you,” Steve startled you, appearing at your side out of nowhere. “I swear I've changed, I promise. I care about you, so much,” you slammed your trunk closed, wheeling your cart back to where it belonged. Steve followed you, but you stayed silent, refusing to acknowledge his pleas. He stood in front of your car door then, blocking it so you couldn’t get in. “I don’t want to lose you again. Let me show you I care. Let me prove it,” he looked like he was on the verge of tears. Part of you wanted to reach out and hold his face in your hands. The other part wanted to hurt him more, make him feel what you felt. The latter won.

“You can’t prove shit to me, Harrington. I don’t believe it, any of it. You’re still the same stupid boy you were when we were 11, and I fucking hate you for it,” you spat and Steve’s face hardened. You wanted him to yell back at you, to prove that he felt something for you, something worth fighting for. But he didn’t. He simply stepped aside, a new slump in his posture as he let you go. His gaze followed the battered silhouette of your car as it drove off, a wisp of fallen leaves and Steve’s shredded heart trailing behind it.

When you got home you stormed inside, leaving the groceries in the car for your parents to unload. You fell back into your bed, resuming the same position you held before you went to the grocery store. It took some time, anger encapsulating your every fiber, but eventually, you fell asleep, putting the situation with Steve aside as you escaped to the peace of your dreams.

You awoke the next morning, groggy and sore. Rolling onto your back, you caught a glimpse of something from the corner of your eye, something that was out of place. Your body groaned as you arose, hesitant steps towards your desk, hands slowly lifting the object. It was a book, but not just any book. It was Pride and Prejudice, the copy that your grandmother gave you years ago, the one that was taken from you. You flipped through the pages, fingers tracing the words you’d penciled in on the margins. Stuck between its pages was a bookmark, your bookmark, with lavender and specks of glitter decorating it.

You sat back on your bed, wondering why the book was returned so suddenly and out of the blue. Your mom was the one to put it in your room, marking its pages with the bookmark, but Steve had been the one to take it years ago. Why did he keep it? Why give it back now? Was this the end? A bookend in your tumultuous relationship with the boy next door? A post-it note fell from between the book’s pages and you leaned down to grab it. Written in Steve’s messy scrawl was one word.

“Please.”

And you’d come back to me

The note was metaphorically stuck in your head, lingering like a bad dream that you couldn’t wake from. It didn’t help that it was physically stuck to your nightstand, its fluorescent green shade haunting you with each passing glance. But you just couldn’t will yourself to throw it away. It was a life preserver tossed to you after falling overboard, a worm on a hook meant to reel you in, a last attempt to fix what had been broken, to reconcile with Steve. You meant it when you said you were done, but the ache inside you longed to be quelled. And there was only one person that could do that. The least you could do was hear him out. Find closure, nothing more, or so you told yourself.

A few days had passed since your encounter at the grocery store and you finally felt brave enough to face Steve again. You knew he was home given that his car had scarcely left the driveway in the past few days. Your legs felt wobbly, knees knocking as you marched in the dark through your lawn, crossing over onto the Harrington’s property. It was late, but you knew he’d still be awake, just as plagued with his thoughts as you were. You jabbed the doorbell with your finger, waiting nervously for the door to open, to see the boy that plagued your thoughts. But it didn’t. So you rang it again, and again, and again. Repeatedly pressing the button until the door finally cracked open.

“I don’t want whatever you’re selling, man,” Steve began but stopped when he saw you, straightening his slumped shoulders. He looked worse than he had at the grocery store like he hadn’t slept in days. He let the door hang open as he gaped at you, unable to form words. You took advantage of the open space, slipping inside his house before he could stop you. Steve shut the door, turning to see what you were doing, but you’d already made your way upstairs to his room.

His room was pretty much the same as it had been the last time you were there, back when the world almost ended. Clothes strewn across the floor, trophies lining small shelves, movie posters galore. You noticed a new poster though, one for Ferris Bueller’s Day Off. Steve finally caught up to you, his perpetual gloominess temporarily taken over by confusion as to why you were suddenly here in his house. You sat on the edge of his bed and he followed suit, worry filling his entire being. Was this the end? Did you come to say goodbye? Steve’s heart beat rapidly in his chest, panic rising in his throat when you finally spoke.

“You said you wanted to explain, so explain,” your voice was soft and quiet, a tone completely unlike the one you used when you were mad. Steve was baffled, wanting to know what made you decide to hear him out, but he knew better than to waste what very well could be his last chance with you.

“I didn’t mean what I said in the record store. I didn’t mean any of it. I wanted to beat the shit out of Allen when he said that stuff,” Steve’s hands shook as he spoke, watching your face for any sign of emotion. He wanted to know what you were thinking, wished he could read your mind. But he couldn’t, so he continued. “It’s like every time I’m around someone from high school, I get pushed aside and someone else takes control of what I say. Someone that reminds me a lot of my father,” angry tears welled in Steve’s eyes. He hated that after all these years his dad still had such an impact on him and the way he acted.

“Steve,” you spoke up, still emotionless in your tone. But Steve stopped you, wanting to continue, practically begging you with his glassy eyes to let him. So you did.

“I know it's not an excuse, and it's so so shitty of me. But he’s just there in the back of my head reminding me that Harrington’s are winners,” a tear dripped down his cheek and it took a great deal of restraint from you to not reach out and brush it away. “I hate that I let him win. I hate that I ever betrayed your trust, that I was so mean to you in school, that I let you out of my life. I hate that I let Allen get away with what he said, that I agreed with him instead, because I don’t. I think you’re beyond perfect the way you are. I don’t want to change anything about you,” Steve stopped for a moment unsure if you’d let him continue. Little did he know that your breath had caught in your chest and extinguished any words that might have spilled from your lips.

“I never ever want to hurt you again,” Steve continued when you didn’t say anything. “I promise, I won’t. I want to be better, I want to be the boy you trusted when we were kids. I care about you so unbelievably much. I never stopped, not once. Please let me prove it,” he’d moved closer to you and you let him, trying your best to keep your feelings hidden from your expression. You were close to breaking, to giving in, to letting yourself be unequivocally in love with Steve Harrington. But you still had to put up a fight, to prove it was the right choice, not just a never-ending loop of pain.

“I’ve given you so many chances, Steve. How do I know this one would be any different?” you couldn’t look at him, knowing you’d lose all your resolve if you did. So your eyes fell to your lap instead. Steve watched your avoidant gaze, wanting more than anything for you to face him.

“Because I love you,” it was firm and unwavering, a declaration spilled from Steve’s cracked lips. It snapped your attention to him immediately, granting Steve his previous wish. “I always have, even when we were kids. I got confused when popularity came into play, but it was still there, in the back of my mind. I didn’t know what it was then, but I do now, and I’ll do anything for you, anything to keep you with me,” Steve grew shy, still unable to tell how you feel. “I want you in any way that you’ll have me. Anything is fine with me as long as I have you back in my life. I just can’t lose you,” Steve finished, leaving his words in the air for you to respond. You took your time to collect your own thoughts, to steady the thump of your heart in your chest.

“Steve,” it was soft, gentle, longing, matching the tone Steve hoped to hear. “I don’t want to lose you either,” the words halted Steve’s heart in his chest. He hoped this was it, that you loved him the way he loved you. “I want to trust you again, but you have to earn it. We can't just keep hurting each other,” you asserted and Steve nodded wildly. You wanted to laugh at the way his hair flopped around on his head as he did it, but you refrained, simply letting a smile crest your lips instead. Steve’s lips matched yours, curling at the edges, and soon you found yourselves incapable of holding back the soft chuckles that rose in your throat.

Steve’s eyes never left you, admiring the smile he’d so dearly missed seeing. He only ever wanted for you to be happy, only wanted you to know you’re loved. And from here on out, he’d make sure that you were. You leaned forward resting your forehead against Steve’s, one last ditch attempt at your silly determination to communicate telepathically. It never worked with Eddie, so why not try it with Steve, the boy you loved since you were five. It would ease the tension, tell Steve what your lips were too scared to say.

“What am I thinking?” you asked, hands coming up to hold Steve’s shoulders in place. His hands wrapped around you, resting on your waist, feeling your scarred skin through the thin material of your shirt. Steve scoured his mind, focusing on you, the soft reflection of light in your eyes, the way your lips were dry and cracked, the curve of your cheekbones. You were more than beautiful to him, you were angelic, bewitching, radiant. You were everything he ever wanted and needed.

“That you like me too?” Steve put on his smug charm, trying to cover up his nervousness. It made you want to laugh, to kiss him, to tell him the truth.

“So close, Stevie. I was thinking more along the lines of love, but if that’s what you’re getting then, sure, we can go with that,” you shrugged jovially, a smile stretched across your cheeks as Steve’s jaw went slack. His eyes watched you for any sign of doubt, of mockery, but he couldn’t find any. He knew it then, you loved him too. Steve found your gaze, eyes whispering to him in their own secret language. Kiss me, they said, and who was he to deny them of their wish? Steve pulled you in, grip tightening on your waist as he did. Your chest was suddenly flush with his, your body now resting in his lap, lips only a breath away from meeting. It was a last chance to bow out, to give it up for good, but you didn’t want to. You tilted your chin, finally closing the gap and brushing your lips against Steve’s. The kiss was encompassed by every flower he’d ever picked for you, every peek behind closed curtains, every taunt and tease and fight, every innuendo, every unseen longing gaze, every utterance of the name Baby, all wrapped together. It felt like winning a game of hide-and-seek that had been called off after an hour of unsuccessful searching, a ring of smoke clinging to the air and lingering high only to be dissipated by the summer breeze, a ceasefire on the battlefield for a war that had gone on too long. It felt like Steve, and you couldn’t get enough of it. His lips danced with yours, never wanting to feel anything but the crush of you against him. But eventually, you ran out of air, pulling back enough to breathe, still keeping your forehead pressed to his.

“I think I knew you loved me because I always loved you too,” Steve’s words were breathy, softened with the heave of his chest. Your smile flashed through your heavy breaths and hot cheeks. Steve Harrington loved you, and you loved him too. It would take some getting used to, but you liked the sound of it. You couldn’t hold back any longer, leaning back in to reattach your lips to his.

A moan mixed in with the kiss, grumbling up from Steve’s throat. His hands shifted down past your waist, landing on your ass with a light squeeze. You laughed at the gesture, keeping your lips pressed against his, and Steve’s heart melted at the sound. But he didn’t have long to linger on the feeling, because your hips rolled against his crotch, catching him off guard. Steve’s mouth opened a bit at the feeling, eliciting a groan from deep within him. You took advantage of the opportunity and slid your tongue against Steve’s. You did the move that you always did, a roll of your tongue against his, and Steve’s fingers dug deeper into your skin.

“Fuck, is that the tongue thing that Hargrove was talking about?” Steve asked, pulling away for just a second before attaching his lips to the column of your neck.

“I don’t want to talk about Billy right now, okay?” you gasped as Steve’s teeth bit into the sensitive spot on your neck. You felt heat flush straight to your core and a whimper slipped from your lips. Steve was mesmerized, enthralled with the sweet sounds you made and the way your breaths picked up.

“Noted,” Steve spoke against your neck, sending vibrations down your spine. He worked his way back up to your lips, hand trailing under your shirt. You flinched when his hand brushed your scar, his cool fingers causing goosebumps to prickle your skin. You always had to lie to your hookups about where the scars came from, but you didn’t need to with Steve. He knew you. He had matching wounds. Steve pulled away, worried about the way you shuddered when he came into contact with the healed skin. But you just lifted your arms above your head, signaling for Steve to remove your shirt. The soft fabric slid from your skin, leaving your chest exposed. You’d foregone a bra that morning, and given the entranced look on Steve’s face at the sight of your bare breasts, you were really glad that you did. His hands gravitated towards your chest, cupping it gently. Steve’s thumbs came to rest on your nipples, brushing back and forth over them, evoking a delicious moan from your lips.

His mouth found yours again, and you couldn’t help the way your hips began to grind against his, craving friction to satisfy the heat pooling between your legs. You removed Steve’s shirt then, and instead of resuming his previous position, Steve tilted his head down, attaching his lips to one of your nipples. You couldn’t help the pleasure that coursed through your veins, grinding harder against Steve’s lap. He was hard beneath his sweatpants, and his length caught against your clit with each movement, only further riling you up. Soft moans fell from both of your lips in harmony until Steve’s mouth departed from your chest, shifting to lay you down with his body hovering over you. His lips were swollen and red, wet with his saliva as he gazed down at you. He looked at you with a hunger that he’d suppressed for far too long as his hands trailed down your stomach, slowly pulling down the sweatpants that rested on your hips. You lifted your bum, making it easier for Steve to take them off. Once your pants were discarded on the floor, Steve’s face shifted down, hovering over your clothed cunt.

“You don’t have to,” you spoke quietly, suddenly seeming shy and so drastically different from the girl who just rolled her tongue into Steve’s mouth.

“Trust me, Baby, I want to. I want to so fucking bad, have for a long time,” Steve’s eyes found yours, but he didn’t move from his spot between your thighs. His breath fanned over your skin, only adding more heat between your legs. He placed small kisses on your inner thighs and your back arched at the sensation. Steve truly had waited a long time to do this, thought about it late at night while his hand fisted his cock, so he was going to savor every second. His fingers dragged over your panties, drawing little stars over the material. You threw your head back, unable to contain yourself as a result of Steve’s teasing.

“Please Stevie, need you so bad,” you begged, breath coming out ragged and labored. Steve smirked up at you, finally hooking his fingers into the cotton material and yanking them off. He lowered himself further, breath now fanning over your exposed heat. Steve wasted no time, licking into your cunt, flexing his tongue with each flick back and forth through your wet folds. You gasped as he held down your thighs, holding them tightly around his head. His tongue was persistent, like a starved man eating for the first time in days. Steve’s hips rutted against the mattress, so turned on by the noises you made, the way you tasted, how you felt against his tongue. It got to a point where you could hardly keep still, squirming wildly beneath Steve’s steel grip, and he knew you were close.

His mouth came up to your clit, sucking it with enough force to make you whine out his name. He could come at just the sounds you made, but he held back, keeping his focus on your core and the shake that slowly began in your thighs. The coil that had been building in the pit of your stomach snapped, a wave of pleasure flooding through you. Steve lapped at your folds, capturing the last of your arousal on his tongue as you came down from your high, chest heaving and thighs quaking.

“Fuck, that was the hottest thing I’ve ever seen,” Steve ran a hand through his hair, shifting up to place a kiss to your lips. You tasted yourself on him, a whimper escaping you in response. Without breaking the kiss, your hands came down, fumbling to rid Steve of his sweatpants, but he stopped you.

“I wanna return the favor, Stevie. Wanna make you feel good too,” you spoke between kisses and Steve pulled away, hastily shaking his head.

“You do that now and it’ll be all over. I’d rather come inside you, Baby,” Steve's eyes asked you for permission, wanting more than anything to be buried inside you. You understood what he meant and nodded eagerly, the idea reigniting the heat between your thighs. Steve got up quickly, pulling his pants from his legs. You repositioned yourself, now on your hands and knees, facing away from Steve. He kneeled on the bed behind you, one hand smoothing over the curve of your ass, gently finding its resting place on your waist. His lips placed a quick kiss to your spine as he took his length in his hand. He pumped himself a few times before lining up with your entrance, slowly pushing in with a wrecked moan. Your walls stretched around him, squeezing his length as he bottomed out. You couldn’t help the faint pants that fell from your lips at the feel of being so full.

“Fuck, Steve, so big,” you whined, arms weakly holding you in place. He chuckled behind you, trying to keep from blowing his load right then and there. You were so tight, your walls surrounding him perfectly. He slowly started to move, pulling his hips out gently and pushing himself back in. Steve was practically growling at the sensation of your walls clasped so close around him. As you both adjusted, Steve sped up, his hips bouncing quickly off the curve of your ass. It was hot and wet, hard and deep, the sound of skin slapping together filled the room.

“Taking me so good, Baby. Wanna hear those pretty sounds. Making ‘em just for me, right?” Steve’s breath was labored, trying hard to hold on as his fingers dug into your hips. You complied with Steve’s request, letting your stifled whimpers echo throughout the room. Steve pulled you up then, your back pressed to his front as your ass bounced off his thighs. He thrusted up into you and his hands came up to fondle your breasts. “Tell me you’re close, Baby. I can’t hold on much longer,” he muttered in your ear, ending his statement with another shaky groan. You nodded, the back of your head moving against his shoulder as you did. He quickened his pace then, using every last ounce of reserve that he had to pound into you, bodies pressing together. Your face scrunched in pleasure and Steve’s followed, both of you toeing the edge of blinding pleasure.

“Fuck, Stevie. Love you so much,” you moaned through ragged breaths, hand coming behind his head in an attempt to pull his lips to yours. The words you spoke and the crash of your lips against his had Steve coming undone. His hot streams of cum coated the inside of your walls, triggering your own high, cries of Steve’s name muffled by the taste of his swollen lips. You sunk back down onto his lap as he finally ceased his movements, resting on the back of his heels, still buried deep within you. His eyes met your soft gaze and he couldn’t help the uptick of his lips. You loved him and that’s all that mattered to him now.

The two of you cleaned yourselves up, slowly redressing to various degrees. Steve pulled on the boxers that were lost in his sweatpants while you draped your oversized shirt back over your frame. You gave up on trying to find your panties, accepting that they were now lost in the mess of Steve’s cluttered bedroom floor. You fell back into bed with Steve, rolling on your side to face him, the bed sheets draped over you. Steve’s legs brushed against yours, slowly intertwining until one of your legs rested between both of his. You caught sight of a cherry stem resting on his nightstand, one that had been tied in a knot, and held back your teasing remarks about him keeping it. Steve studied you, wanting to memorize this moment, each feature of your face. He wanted to fall asleep and wake up to the sight of your soft, pleasant smile as you watched over him in the same way he did to you. Eventually, Steve’s lids grew heavy, fluttering closed as he drifted off to sleep, you not far behind.

When you woke in the morning, you were still tangled together, radiating heat off one another to fill the otherwise cold morning air. You nestled your head into Steve’s bare chest, a soft groan slipping from him as he awoke. Neither of you wanted to get up, face the morning, and separate after a night together. The only reason you eventually did get up was because Steve had to go to work and you were sure your parents would notice your absence soon.

You went downstairs before him, waiting for him to find his car keys in the mess of his room. You shared a kiss on his doorstep, fingers tangling in Steve’s hair as he pulled your hips flush with his. A whine escaped you as he pulled away, leaning down to pluck a daisy from his mom’s well-manicured front garden. Steve tucked the daisy behind your ear, placing one last kiss to your lips before walking over to his car. He opened his car door, stopping for another glimpse of you before he left. You smiled at him, waving him off and watching as he backed out of the driveway. He blew you a kiss before putting the car in drive and pulling away. You held the kiss close to your heart, the heart that now belonged to him, and headed back across his lawn to your own house.

The smell of coffee wafted through the air as you shut the front door behind you. Your parents sat at the kitchen table, a newspaper between them and a cup of coffee each. You drifted into the kitchen, ignoring their questioning looks, and plugged the phone back into the wall. Your parents shared a silent look, a look of relief that the storm was over, that normalcy would soon resume.

You went upstairs then, entering your bedroom and pulling back the curtains that encompassed your window. You planned to leave a note for Steve stuck to the glass, the same way you used to when you were kids, one for him to find when he got back home from work. But when your eyes drifted to the window across from yours, you were met with confusion.

In place of the army of green men that once sat on the window sill was a pencil with a half sheet of white paper attached to it. A white flag. Steve surrendered, and the war was over. You smiled at the gesture before crafting your own flag to mirror the one across from you. It would be a truce then, breaking even and giving up the fight. The ache in your chest was quelled and replaced by an unfathomable warmth. There were no winners or losers anymore. There was just you and Steve, two lovers that took way too long to figure it out.

You would call Eddie and Robin later to explain the previous night’s events, but for now, you sat back on your bed, Pride and Prejudice clasped in your hands. You opened the cover, eyes landing on the bookmark between its pages, mind drifting off to the boy that picked you flowers and told you he loved you so long ago. Maybe you knew him all along. Maybe he wasn’t so different after all.

You put me on and said I was your favorite

The summer sun beat down on Steve’s tanned skin, sweat dripping from his brow, making a trail down his neck to the collar of his t-shirt. He wiped his forehead with the back of his hand, wishing to escape Hawkins’ summer heat. With a deep breath, Steve leaned down to grab the box at his feet, hoisting it up to hand to you. You stood in the back of a U-Haul, organizing the boxes that were handed to you. Your very sweaty boyfriend flashed you a smile before turning to go back into his house and grab more boxes.

“You guys couldn’t have picked a hotter day to move,” Eddie appeared in front of you, unruly curls stuck to his forehead and neck. You’d offered him a hair tie earlier, but he declined, now stuck suffering in the humid air. His arms were strained with the weight of the box he was carrying, clearly struggling more than Steve had been.

“Sorry, Eds. We can’t control the weather,” you took the box that he had brought out, placing it somewhere behind you in the truck. You brushed away the sweat that had formed above your lip and watched as Eddie shook his head.

“I can’t believe you guys are actually leaving,” a sad smile stretched his lips as he spoke. He knew that it would happen eventually, that you would leave behind this horror story of a town and start anew. You’d suffered more Upside Down related trauma than he had, and he knew the fears that still crept into your mind from time to time. It was a good change, even if it meant leaving the people you loved behind.

“Me too, honestly,” you looked up then, head snapping towards the sound of voices arguing in the distance. Steve and Dustin were on Steve’s front porch loudly talking back and forth about how to move Steve’s dresser from his room. Robin stood next to them, rolling her eyes and dragging Max towards your house to grab the last of your book collection. “I’m glad it's with him though,” you nodded your head towards Steve, who was still deep in his discussion with Dustin, wild hand gestures and all. Steve caught you gazing at him from the corner of his eye, shooting you a look that said ‘this kid is crazy’ before disappearing into the house, Dustin hot on his trail.

“Yeah, yeah, you guys are in love or whatever. We get it,” Mike appeared at Eddie’s side, his slim arms struggling to carry his box. You raised a brow at him, lifting the box from his arms with ease and he faced you with an unamused glare.

“I think it's sweet,” Will approached behind him, also unloading a box into your arms. He smiled at you sweetly, and suddenly it hit you how much you were going to miss all of them. The bickering and the fights, the tight hugs and reassurances that they would call to let you know they got home safe. The late nights spent overanalyzing every detail of some cheesy movie that you’d forget the plot of by the morning. And in the background of it all was Steve. His forlorn gaze as Nancy walked you down her driveway to your car. His open curtains waiting for your lights to flicker on when you got back from work. His grand gestures as he put himself in harm's way, trying to protect you. You pretended to hate each other, but now you know that you never really did.

The afternoon dragged on, the heat weighing heavy on everyone as boxes and furniture were piled into the truck. Eventually, you all finished and everything you owned was packed away. Steve grabbed a quick shower, rinsing the sweat from his body to make the long car ride more comfortable. You hugged your parents goodbye, urging them to come visit once everything was unpacked. The others still lingered, waiting to watch as you and Steve drove away. Tears filled their eyes and streamed down sweaty cheeks as you hugged each of the younger kids, promising to return for Thanksgiving.

Steve began his round of goodbyes, mainly opting for a secret handshake or a ruffling of hair. Robin squeezed you so tightly that you thought she might crack one of your ribs. She sniffled as she pulled away, moving on to give Steve the same crushing embrace. Eddie stood before you, his head tilted towards the ground. You brushed his hair back from his face, catching sight of his tear-stained cheeks. He pulled you close, arms encompassing your frame.

“You’ll call every week?” he spoke into your hair, burying his face in it to hide his swell of tears. You nodded against him, your own muffled cries slipping from your lips. He pulled back then, and Steve was right behind you.

Steve placed his hand on your back, guiding you to the front seat of the U-Haul. He said his goodbye to Eddie before joining you. Steve’s car was hooked up to the back of the truck and your parents planned to bring yours up with them when they came to visit.

You stood on the ledge of the truck admiring the sea of your friends that stood before you. They watched you with tearful eyes as you shot them one last watery smile and slid into your seat. Your gaze was pulled towards the side of your house, your bedroom window that sat across from Steve’s. It was funny to think how close he always was, even when he felt miles away. Steve’s hand brushed yours then, the tingle of skin pulling you from your thoughts.

“Ready to go, Baby?” Steve asked, reaching down to put the truck in gear. His hair was still wet, smelling of his lavender-scented shampoo. You ran your hands through it, brushing the loose strands to the side. Steve caught your hand, placing a small kiss on your palm before you could pull away.

Sixth grade Steve was right, you were leaving with your things packed into boxes and a new city calling your name. But not because you were the worm girl that was running away. It wasn’t because this town had terrorized and taunted you to the point of no return. You were leaving because you wanted to, not because you felt forced out. And sixth grade Steve was wrong about you finding the love of your life once you left too, because you’d already found him, and for that Steve couldn’t be happier.

“With you?” you questioned, eyebrows raised, hand still encompassed by Steve’s. He nodded, showing you that smile that he reserved just for you. The same one he gave you as you sat on the sidewalk with dried worms newly relocated to the surrounding grass. You mirrored his look, gazing into his hazel eyes with all the love and adoration you had acquired for him over the years. “Always.”

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lis-likes-fics · 2 years

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You, Me, & Steve

Pairings: Eddie Munson x fem!Reader x Steve Harrington Word Count: 8.5k Warnings: NSFW, smut, face riding, cunnilingus, unprotected sex, deepthroating, praise kink, daddy kink, gay sex, I’m not saying Steve’s a sub but Steve’s a sub, bottom!Steve, top!Eddie, switch?Reader, overstimulation, threesome... A/N: There this song called You, Me, & Steve by Garfunkel and Oates, and I love the song so...enjoy this filthy ass fic with everyone’s best friend Steve. Thank you!

You smile across the table at Eddie, pursuing another slice of pizza from the pie between you. His face is stuffed with a huge bite, cheeks full and a stupidly large grin on his face. There's grease on the corners of his mouth and a string of cheese hanging over his lip. You chuckle lightly before taking a bite of your slice.

He speaks around his mouthful, "It's great, right?"

"Mhm," you hum, chewing your slice thoughtfully, "'S good."

You set the slice on your plate, dusting off your ringed-up hands as you pick at the slice of pepperoni hanging off the side. Eddie tilts his head as he sets his own slice down, rubbing his hands together before wiping them on his jeans. They were his good jeans, the ones that only had the one small hole across the knee.

"Babe," he calls your attention, raising his brows and offering a small smile. "You okay?" He looks at you through his bangs, reaching over the table and brushing his fingers over your knuckles.

You look up at him and smile, "Yeah, perfect."

You feel his shoe tap against yours under the table and laugh. You return the kick lightly. "We playing Footsies now?" you raise a brow, laughing when you feel his foot kick you again. And then you are playing Footsies as he continues to nudge you here and there, the both of you at war under the table.

A small fit of giggles erupted from you as you gazed at Eddie, his big brown, doe eyes staring back as he laughed rambunctiously. You could have wished a thousand wishes for this moment. You can’t believe that it’s finally you and him, and him and you. Just you.

And his friend Steve.

Steve Harrington plops down in the seat right next to you with a pie in hand, laughing lightly at the scene he’d walked into. Your light-heartedness fades slightly as you glance at him with a tight smile.

“Playing games without me?” he quips as he sets the second pizza on the table. It’s loaded with toppings, and he immediately scoops a slice onto his plate, giving the both of you a large grin. Yours is forced as you return it, Eddie’s is easily reciprocated with nothing but his usually strange bubbliness.

You don’t even know what his whole deal with Steve is. He’s always around now. Before, you could snag plenty of hours with Eddie where it’s just the both of you alone. But now, it seems like you can’t shake Steve.

Eddie would ask, “Hey, you want to go catch a movie?” Then you’d say yes and be on your way to a drive-in and see Steve Harrington coming to join.

Then Eddie would ask, “Hey, you want to go out? Get some food and come back?” You’d say yes and be on your way. Then Steve fucking Harrington would show up once more.

Eddie notices you space out and looks at you again. “Hey, you okay?”

“Hm?” You look at him quickly and offer another tight smile. “Yeah, fine.”

You’ll be better when Steve leaves so you can hang out with your boyfriend alone.

You’re filled with a little bit of hope when Eddie asks you out again later on in the week. You’d just hung out with him and Steve all day. You are hoping Eddie has gotten his fill when he asks you if you want to get ice cream with him. You are excited as you get in his van alone, and then drive to the ice cream parlor alone, and then enter alone.

Your mood is ruined when you spot Steve waiting for the both of you in a booth. He flashes you both that huge grin and beckons you over. Eddie greets him happily and brings you both to go sit. You’re seething, but you hide it well.

It happens again when the circus is in town.

And then again when you and Eddie go to Skull Rock to let loose with some weed and Steve fucking Harrington just shows up.

You could have wished a thousand wishes for Steve to disappear. It's not that you don't like his friend, and it's not that you don't think he's great—truth be told, you had a major crush on Steve before you got with Eddie—but how many hours with him can you truly spend when you hardly even have time to fuck your boyfriend in peace? At the very least, you wanted to just have an hour to yourself to fuck Eddie without him getting a call from Steve to ask if the two of you wanted to hang out again. You hang out so much, you’re so pent up from not having the time.

Eddie notices your unease as you hole up in the living room of his trailer. Steve's lounging on the couch with you squished between them. He grabs your attention with a hand on your arm and excuses the both of you to his bedroom.

Eddie closes the door carefully behind him and is surprised when you jump his bones. You moan into his mouth as you push him against the wall and run your hands over his chest, your lips devouring him as all the pent up stress explodes.

He responds almost immediately, after getting over the initial shock, and kisses you back with just as much hunger. He’s just as pent up as you are. His arms wrap tightly around you, and he turns you around so you’re pressed up against the wall instead. You both moan into the other’s mouth, the sound muffled by your squished lips.

But then Eddie pulls away and smiles at you, chest heaving from breathlessness and eyes blown from lust. “What’s going on?” he asks quietly. “You okay?”

You huff as you stare at him, eyes darkened with desire. “I want you.”

“I can see that,” he laughs lightly. “But Steve’s in the other room.”

You groan and roll your eyes, stepping closer again as you grasp the back of Eddie’s neck, pulling him down so his face is centimeters from yours, just a lip’s distance from kissing you. “Steve’s always in the other room. Or right beside me. Or fucking under me or you. He’s always around.”

Eddie licks his lips, sweeping some hair from your face before drawing patterns over your hips again. “Well, he’s my friend. I thought you liked Steve.”

You sigh, “I do, Eddie, I do… but, Jesus Christ, how long is he going to hang out with us every minute of every day? Why’s he always here? Because, seriously, what the fuck’s his fucking problem? I want you—need you to myself.”

“Okay,” he whispers, pecking your lips gently before pulling back again. “Why don’t we wait Steve out or someth–”

“Are you gay for Steve?”

The question takes him off guard. You look at him with a raised brow as he chokes on air. You already know of Eddie’s bisexuality. He came clean to you about that a long time ago and was met with more acceptance than he realized was coming his way—as if you couldn’t tell when you first met him by the way he acted around certain people.

“I think you might be gay for Steve, Eddie. And that would be alright, but I need you to let me know this shit,” you tell him, tilting your head to one side as you stare him down. “I mean, if you want Steve, just tell me. I’ll… I’ll step back, and you can have him. I just need to–”

He interrupts you with a kiss. It’s a possessive kiss, one that renders you breathless as he presses you against the wall again and cradles your head in his hands. He licks your bottom lip before he pulls back. “You know I fucking love you,” he tells you, his voice low and raspy and fucking amazing. You smile a little, reassured as a weight lifts from your chest at the prospect of Eddie leaving you.

He sighs and pulls back to look at you again. “Okay, look,” he begins. “You remember when you told me after we first got together that you had that huge crush on Steve?” You blush but nod, swallowing hard. “And then I told you that I had that crush on him, too?” Again, you nod. He smiles a lopsided grin, seemingly amused by his next words as he speaks. “Well, Steve has a huge crush on you, too. And he has a huge crush on me.”

Your brain is a little slow to process. You tilt your head as you examine his face. Your mouth opens and closes like a fish before you speak. “Wait, Steve’s bi like you?”

Eddie nods, still grinning. “Steve’s bi like me,” he confirms.

You stare for a moment. “Huh.”

Once Eddie’s sure you understand, he continues. “When Steve came clean to me about it, he also asked me if we could…be his experience.” You stare at him, a little confused only because you were hesitant to figure out his riddles.

“He wants to fuck us.”

You blink a couple of times as you finally understand his words. Eddie laughs, “I only had him around all the time because you know I’m terrible with words, and I wanted to see if you still had that fat crush. But you seemed a little put off by Steve being around all the time so I was about to turn him down.”

You suddenly laugh. It’s a loud laugh that both confuses and entices Eddie. Suddenly, your frustration dissipates into something less heavy. You look at Eddie and smile wide, “Eddie, you should have just told me. I was only upset because I never had alone time with you anymore. If Steve wants a threesome, he can have a threesome. Just talk to me next time, this was not the way to do this.”

Eddie beams. He fucking beams. You can tell he’s been waiting to fuck Steve for a while. You’ve kind of been waiting to fuck Steve, too. Now you’ll be doing it together. Dreams really do come true.

“‘Course,” he replies. “God, I love you.”

You smile teasingly, “Well, I’m not God, but I love you, too.”

He chuckles and kisses you quickly before stroking his thumb over your cheek. “Be right back.” Then he leaves the room to fetch your Steve. You stand there for a moment, still coming to terms with the agreement. Your cheeks blush, and you shake your head, biting your bottom lip in thought.

You laugh and sit on the bed, suddenly nervous as you run the palms of your hands over your thighs. It’s really hot all of a sudden, and the thought of Steve’s body moving over yours makes it even hotter. You hear the TV in the living room cut off, and then you hear Steve and Eddie’s voices murmuring in the other room. Then they approach the door and it’s unbearably hot. You remove your top.

Eddie and Steve walk into the room with you shirtless, your black bra exposing your chest as they take in the sight of you. “Damn, babe,” Eddie snorts. “I knew you were excited, but that was quick.”

You roll your eyes at him and look at Steve, who’s staring wide-eyed at your chest. He notices you watching him watch you and blushes, his face turns completely pink. “Wow,” is all he says. It’s all he can manage.

Eddie closes the door behind him and moves to sit next to you. You feel awkward sitting next to Eddie as you both look up at him. Eddie doesn’t look like he’s going to say anything to help out, so you do. “Eddie just told me you came out to him. He told me about your crushes and everything, and–”

“Is this weird?” he interrupts. “I swear, if it’s weird, I can leave and we can just agree never to talk about this again.” He takes to running his hand through his hair, messing it up as his pink face turns red. He tries to take a step back, a strange movement in his legs as he retreats. You notice the tent. It’s huge.

You stand and close the distance between you. You press your lips to his before he can continue talking, grabbing a hold of his shirt to pull him down to meet you. He’s surprised and breathless and has no idea what to do. So he just kisses back, and when you pull away, he’s speechless.

“Steve, I’ve liked you since way before I got with Eddie. The only thing that would make this weird is if you walked out that door and we all pretended this never happened,” you tell him, brushing your fingertips over his cheek. “Now, kiss me again.”

And he does. All the awkwardness has left his body in an instant, because he’s all over you in the next second. He walks you backwards until you fall onto the bed next to Eddie, hands grabbing clothes, lips sliding against skin, too much heat for one person to take. He’s been pent up for a while.

You moan helplessly into his mouth, weaving your fingers through his hair as you allow him full access to your mouth. Eddie’s watching, licking his lips and watching you both hungrily. He didn’t expect seeing his boy crush and his girlfriend making out so passionately to be as big of a turn on as it is.

But he gets jealous quickly. “Don’t hog all the fun,” Eddie breathes. You let go of Steve to look at your boyfriend, who takes Steve by the nape of his neck and crashes his lips down on him.

Steve doesn’t have time to be shocked by the sudden kiss, he doesn’t have time to process. He melts against Eddie, visibly melts as he kisses back. You watch with bated breath, mouth watering and body tingling. God, you wanted more.

They sit at the edge of the bed, making out desperately as you get onto your knees and watch them. You lean forward, moving some hair from Steve’s neck so you can kiss him there. His skin is soft between your lips. You take some between your teeth, nibbling and suckling as he groans lightly against Eddie’s mouth.

You flatten your hand against Steve’s chest, slipping underneath his shirt to feel the expanse of his skin there. You take his earlobe between your teeth, pulling on it with a shuddering breath before you pull away. Eddie helps you, pulling Steve’s shirt over his head and tossing it somewhere in the room.

He turns him and shoves him onto the bed so he’s lying on his back. Steve huffs for breath, overwhelmed by everything as he watches the both of you stare down at him with lust blown pupils. Eddie smiles down at him, “Now, you stay right there.”

Eddie’s hand wraps behind your head and pulls you close as he kisses you again. He tastes like Steve, like Carmex and Coca-Cola. You moan into his mouth, smoothing your hands under his shirt before you pull it off of him so you can feel his bare skin under your palms.

He’s hungry, you can tell. For you, for Steve. He wants you both all to himself, and now he knows he can have it. His lips find your throat. He kisses and suckles the skin there before his teeth sink gently into your earlobe. “Why don’t you go sit on Stevie’s face? I’m sure he’ll love that.”

You shudder at his suggestion, warmth spreading over your skin as you agree. You lean over Steve’s body, kissing the expanse of his skin from above his belly button, to his chest, his nipples, his throat. You pay extra care to his throat, licking and sucking and nibbling the skin there as your hand holds his chin up to keep his neck exposed.

Steve’s hands grip your sides, keeping you close as he moans underneath you. Eddie kisses your back, his lips connecting with your skin at the spot right before it disappears into your jeans. He pulls those down, over the curve of your ass and to your knees. He plays with your panties before removing those as well. He slips them off of you completely without Steve even realizing what’s happening, too caught up in the feeling of your lips and teeth against his throat. He’s sure you’ve marked him up.

When your clothes have been abandoned somewhere in the room, Eddie takes a generous handful of your ass and kneads it. He’s obsessed with the sounds you make as his fingers dig into the supple flesh. He places a kiss over each cheek.

You move on from Steve’s neck when Eddie clears his throat. You kiss Steve’s face, his lips and his cheeks and his forehead, the very tip of his nose. You worship him with your lips before you let him worship you with his tongue. You sit up and he notices you're mostly naked, save for the bra—which Eddie has just unclipped and removed from your body. Now, you’re entirely naked. Steve’s obsessed.

He looked drunkenly up at you, his brown eyes are black and his pink lips are kiss swollen. You share a look, a question in your eyes as you stare for a moment. He just nods, he nods eagerly. He’s really excited.

So you lower yourself onto Steve’s face, and he fucking gets to work. He’s licking and sucking and mouthing hungrily at your pussy, which had already been throbbing from the anticipation. You’re a moaning mess as you practically melt against him. You have to hover above his face just to make sure you are not bearing the entirety of your weight on him. His arms wrap around your thighs to pull you closer, and it doesn’t seem as though he’s super into you not bearing the entirety of your weight on him.

He pulls you down with a swift tug and you're fully seated on his face. He must be in heaven because he certainly looks like it. Your brain is all mushy and your limbs are shaking as he eats you out like a man starved. His tongue plunges deep inside of you, licking up everything you have to offer as you drip out all over his face.

Eddie’s hard in his pants as he watches. His lip is swollen from both your kisses and his teeth sinking into it at the sight of you two. He finds himself wishing the roles were reversed for a moment. He knows how glorious it is to be buried between those thighs, and he yearns for it suddenly. But he can make due.

Eddie discards his rings slowly, purpose in each little movement. The bed dips, unbeknownst to either of you as you find yourself preoccupied with one another, and he takes his time. Steve’s hips jerk when he feels his zip being undone, but he doesn’t stop what he’s doing.

Eddie leans forward and presses a kiss to your spine before whispering against you. “Don’t come yet, baby. I’ll tell you when, okay?” All you can do is nod. You’re too caught up in the pleasure that Steve is throwing at you as he sucks on your clit like candy.

You moan helplessly, grinding down against his face. His pointed nose presses into your clit in the most perfect way, and it turns you to putty. “Shit, S-Steve,” you whimper. “S’good. You can’t stop.” Because if he stops, you’ll explode.

Eddie just smiles, shifting Steve’s mom jeans down his thighs without a comment about them. He’s a little too distracted to pick up on the joke anyway. He sinks to his knees, removes Steve’s cock from his tight pants, and—Jesus Christ, he’s huge. Eddie’s eyes are wide as he stares at it, completely mesmerized. Steve is rock hard and thick, a delicious vein running the length of his cock that he can’t help but want to lick. And he does, Eddie flattens his tongue against the underside of it and licks a long stripe up Steve’s cock.

His whole body jerks, and he groans rather loudly into your swollen cunt. You jerk next, the vibrations making you melt. You’re barely holding it together, and Eddie expects for you to hold out for a command.

You don’t think you’ll make it. You wonder briefly what Eddie will do if you come without his permission. Will he spank you? Will he make you suck him off? Will he make you suck Steve off? Maybe both at the same time? You’re unable to finish your thoughts as Eddie starts another chain reaction by flicking his tongue over the slit of Steve’s dick.

It’s not long before Eddie finally takes Steve into his mouth. It’s an adjustment, that’s for sure. He’s used to eating out, not sucking off, but he takes it like a pro. Steve’s moaning and grunting into your weeping pussy, and you’re finding it a lot harder to hold off your release that way.

You have to lift off of his face, put a little bit of distance between you two to avoid disobeying Eddie. But Steve is insistent, addicted. He licks his lips where your arousal has spilled over, along with his chin and his cheeks, and really his whole face. His hands bring your back down with his iron grip and he’s buried in you again.

You throw your head back and screw your eyes shut, back arched and body trembling. If Eddie doesn’t let you come soon, you’re going to burst. Steve isn’t helping. You don’t think he’s particularly interested in helping, though.

Steve’s slurping sounds mixed with Eddie’s are driving you insane. You want to scream, to cry, to come. You can only do the first two, and it’s not enough.

A whimper escapes from your throat, rough and whiny as you stutter out, “Daddy…”

Steve nearly chokes, but Eddie replies, “You talkin’ to me or him, sweetheart?”

You grind against Steve’s mouth, the only other alternative to running away from the pleasure that will make you explode. “I needa come,” you whine. “Please, can I come?”

Eddie has to think for a moment, his fist still stroking Steve as he stares at your beautiful back. After a moment, he lets out a sigh and flicks his wrist. Steve groans into you, you whimper. “You've been such a good girl. I’ll let you come…long as Stevie comes, too.”

You don’t think that will be much of a problem. A waterfall of gratitude slips from your lips as your hands tangle in Steve’s hair, gripping and tugging on the dark locks your fingers intertwine in. Eddie’s mouth is on Steve again, and he sucks hard on your clit. You buck against his face, your sounds climbing as you finally find release. You come all over Steve’s face, still grinding and whining as senseless ramblings fall from your lips. “Ah, yes! Thank you, Daddy. S’ so good!”

Steve can’t take it anymore. Between your whimpering praises to his skills and Eddie sucking on his dick, he follows right after you in no time. He moans into your cunt, licking you up greedily as he spills into Eddie’s mouth. There’s so much going on, you can’t process any of it with your jelly-like brain. All you know is that if Steve keeps lapping at your pussy like this, you’re going to burst.

You lift yourself up on shaky thighs to get away from his greedy mouth. He follows you until he can’t anymore, glancing up at your contorted face to see what was happening. Steve sits up, locking eyes with Eddie for a moment and nearly losing it again when he sees his cum decorating Eddie’s face. Eddie’s having a fucking field day with it, too.

Steve shifts you so you’re sitting in his lap, taking your chin in his hands as he looks over your face. “Aww, baby,” he whispers to you. “Can’t take it? Is it too much?” The way he speaks to you, so soft and taunting as he makes you look him in the eye, it turns you on far more than it should. You’re helpless against him, pushing forward to kiss him again.

He only lets you for a moment before pulling you back. “You like how Daddy takes care of you?” he coos, moving some of your hair out of the way. You nod, practically begging for another kiss. As you lean forward again, you feel him brush against you and look down.

Your eyes widen, taking in the sight of his cock. You’re practically salivating because, Jesus Christ, he’s huge. You want it, you want him. Glancing behind you, you can see Eddie taking his spot with his chest flush against your back. You’re squished between them, Eddie’s still in his jeans but Steve is completely naked like you. It’s unfair. But you’re still a little preoccupied by Steve.

Eddie notices you looking and just nods. “I know, he’s a big boy, isn’t he?” he asks, his mouth connecting with the juncture of your neck and shoulder. He licks and sucks and bites the skin there, making sure it’s well loved as he does. “You want to taste him, don’t you? You want to see just how big he is?”

You nod quickly, eyes fluttering shut as Eddie’s teeth brush against that little spot on your throat that drives you crazy. “Yes, Daddy,” you whisper, reaching a hand back to tangle in his messy head of hair. “Fuck, I want that.”

He takes your face in his hand, squishing slightly so your lips pucker. He turns you so you’re looking at Steve, whose predatory eyes glare into yours and devour your soul. “Tell him,” Eddie says. “Tell Steve how much you want him.”

You wet your lips with your tongue. “I want you,” you whisper, barely audible over the heavy breaths and the sound of your blood pumping in your ears.

Steve tsks at you, “You can do better than that. Come on, kitten. Tell me what you want.”

Something in you flips as you lean forward, Eddie’s hand wrapped securely around your throat to keep you from kissing Steve. You moan, “I want you so bad. I wanna suck you off, and I wanna taste you and see how big you are.”

Steve is losing his mind. Your compliance comes so naturally and he briefly wonders if it was trained into you by Eddie or if it was just your natural state. He glances over your shoulder at Eddie and scoffs playfully. “Eds, you didn’t tell me your girlfriend was such a slut.”

Eddie beams pridefully, “I know. Ain’t she the best?”

“Please,” you whimper.

“Alright, alright.” Steve smiles at you, leaning forward to press a feather-light kiss to your lips as he smiles down at you. “Let’s see what Eddie says first. He is the boss.”

“So sweet,” he comments, turning your face so he can kiss your lips. You melt, reaching for him as you divulge in his pleasure. You sigh against his lips, tasting the salty taste of Steve’s cum on his tongue. You lick into his mouth, yearning for more as Eddie gives it.

He pulls away after a moment, hand still wrapped around your throat to ensure you can’t continue kissing him so he can think. He smiles, “Yeah, you can suck him off.” He looks past you, his eyes drilling into Steve’s as a wicked grin takes his face. “Steve’s mouth’ll be busy anyway.”

You might not be the only one drooling.

Eddie’s hands grip your waist, and he lifts you up off of Steve. He sits you on the floor so you’re on your knees and tells you to stay, throwing a “good girl” at you when you listen to him. He makes a come hither motion to Steve, who obeys just as well as you do when he crawls off the bed, sitting in front of you.

Eddie takes off his jeans, pushing them down his legs to reveal the tattoos that had been hidden from everyone but you. The both of you stare at them. There’s a barbed wire tattoo around his upper left thigh, a skull eating a heart on the inside of his right thigh, more chain link around his calf. Behind one knee is a tattoo of both your initials. It’s small, and it’s simple, but you love it.

He catches the both of you staring, smirking devilishly. “You like what you see?” You nod, biting your lip to try and hide your smile. He bends down to kiss your forehead. When he straightens his back again, you’re met with his cock in your face. He’s painfully hard, red swollen head, the vein on the underside bulging. You stick out your tongue and lick him.

He gasps between his teeth, stepping away a little with a breathy chuckle. “Eager, are we?” he says. He brushes his knuckles over the apple of your cheek. You lean forward and kiss his pelvic bone, long and lingering as his cock twitches in response. He groans and tangles his fist in your hair for just a moment before pulling you away. “Go on and taste Steve instead. I know you want to.”

And you do. You really do. Steve’s leaning back against the bed, and you realize why Eddie had you sit on the floor the way you were. You sink to the floor, swatting away one of the suspiciously crusted up socks Eddie had lying on the carpet. You take Steve’s cock in your hand, looking up at him as he clenches his jaw.

He’s thick, thicker than Eddie. As you pump your fists up and down his shaft a couple of times, you’re both moaning at the feeling of it. Eddie watches intently, his face hard as he stares. Steve’s hips buck up into your hand when you squeeze, breathing a shaky breath in response. You shift down so your face is level with his dick. God, he’s big. You’re not sure you’ll be able to take him. But one thought back to Eddie reminds you that it probably won’t be as hard as you think, besides you want to impress them.

You pump your fist once more and lick the tip of his cock. Steve hisses, still sensitive from before. Your tongue glides over the slit, tasting his precum as it seeps out. You flatten your tongue along the underside of him, licking from base to tip to feel him. Then you take him in your mouth.

Steve throws his head back against the mattress as you swirl your tongue over his tip, bobbing your head down the length of him as you adjust to his size. His hand weaves in your hair for a moment. He doesn’t guide you, he just tangles his fist to ground himself.

He doesn’t notice Eddie step over him until his mouth falls open to let out a breathy moan. He feels Eddie’s own cock rest against his lips and opens his eyes again. Eddie’s looking down at him with such a dominant gaze, he almost loses his breath. He opens his mouth a little wider, untangling his hand from you in favor of holding onto Eddie.

Eddie leans forward, slipping his cock onto Steve’s hot tongue. It’s an adjustment for him, but he manages as he licks along him. When Steve feels you suckle around him, he grunts and Eddie follows after. It takes a moment, but Steve gets the hang of it rather quickly. It’s almost a dance, the both of you moving in time with one another's movements. Eddie bends forward just enough to grip the sheets behind Steve’s head before finally just taking a fistful of his hair.

You take Steve’s cock down your throat, surprising yourself when you don’t choke on his size. Steve chokes though, he hadn’t expected you to be able to take it—he’s not used to people being able to take it. You and Eddie are surprising him a lot tonight.

You aren’t able to take the last inch, he’s so thick, it’s hard to. He doesn’t seem to mind, perfectly content with the way you fuck your throat on his cock as he fucks his on Eddie’s. He must be in heaven, Steve’s sure of it. There’s no other explanation for all of this. It’s good, and it’s overwhelming, and he wants more.

“Fuck, this mouth is amazing,” Eddie comments. “Now I know what you were screaming about, babe.”

Steve twitches in your mouth, spurred on by Eddie’s praise. You moan, reaching between your thighs to run your fingers through your folds. You’re still soaking, dripping wet from all the factors encouraging your pleasure. Steve is going to come soon, you know it. It makes you work harder, eager to taste him on your tongue as the sounds you make become increasingly naughty.

Eddie’s trying his best not to thrust into Steve’s mouth. It’s hard to, with the way he takes him. He moans more and more, driving Eddie absolutely insane. “Shit, keep that up, sweetheart.” Eddie’s talking to you, his eyes are screwed shut as he nears his own release with Steve. Your finger swirls circles over your abused clit, and your whimpers encourage Steve.

Eddie’s gasping for breath. You’re addicted to the sound, you want to pull it out of him next. He’s going to come soon, so is Steve. You can’t wait as you work harder. Then it’s only a few seconds. Eddie steels his jaw and thrusts forward, little to no warning given as he spills down Steve’s throat. Steve follows directly after, and you are more than happy to clean him up.

Your greedy tongue licks him up as he had done for you. He’s better than you thought, and it makes you yearn for more. Eddie pulls out of Steve’s mouth, lingering there for a moment to catch his breath before shifting out of the way. It gives Steve a clear view of you as you lick along his shaft, collecting his cum on your tongue. He has to pull you away from his dick to catch a break, too sensitive to handle you at the moment.

“Jesus,” he breathes. “Such a fucking slut.”

The way you smirk is mischievous, a spitting image of Eddie’s own devilish grin. “Takes one to know one.” Steve brings you forward and crashes his lips on yours. You moan into his mouth and crawl forward for more. Eddie ventures behind you, sinking to his knees and taking your ass in his hands again. A swift smack to both your cheeks makes you yelp and press further into Steve. When Eddie’s hot tongue sinks inside of you, you moan and your shaky legs nearly give out.

“You taste good, sweetheart,” he praises, spreading you apart as he licks you up. You whimper and grip onto Steve tighter. But Eddie doesn’t keep going for you to come. He pulls away from you after a moment, licking his lips to taste what he could before whispering in your ear. “You’ve been such a good girl, baby,” he groans. “That deserves a reward.”

You visibly melt against Steve, barely able to hold yourself up now. He scoops you up into his arms, and Steve stands after. He practically throws you onto the bed, spreading your legs wide and pressing them up to show off your glistening cunt. He bends down to kiss you there, but he doesn’t indulge. He delivers a surprise smack and you yelp again, and then he steps away.

You see Steve and watch him stroke his sensitive cock a couple of times before letting it fall against your belly. You suddenly lose your breath at the sight of him. He’s so fucking big, he’s going to split you open. Quite frankly, you’re counting on it.

He smirks at you, bends down to kiss your lips, and then turns you over so you’re on your stomach. He manhandles you until you’re on your knees, presenting your ass to him as he massages it thankfully. Eddie moves in front of you, taking a seat with his legs spread wide. You lean forward and kiss his lips. He tastes so good.

His fist tangles in your hair as he pulls you away, winking at you before readjusting you so that you’re level with his cock. You’re all too happy to obey. Just as you take him in your hands, you feel Steve’s tip prodding at you. Your breath catches in your throat, but he doesn’t do anything yet. You feel him move against you, running his cock through your folds in a teasing way that makes you want to scream.

You hang your head, your breath heavy as you grow more and more impatient. “Daddy, please,” you whimper. “Please, I need it.”

He doesn’t answer you, at least not with words. All the breath is forced from your lungs when he pushes inside of you. You're slicked up enough that it’s not as hard, but it takes a moment before he’s buried inside of you. He’s practically stuffed inside you as you squeeze around him, tight and warm and wet. Steve groans and sighs deeply once he’s fully inside. Your legs tremble. You can’t think. You feel so full, he’s filled you up to the brim with his cock.

You only remember Eddie’s cock in your face when you feel him press it against your tongue. You wrap your lips around him and suckle on it, gasping around him when Steve pulls out way too slowly. You’re going to cry. It’s so much. Him going slow will make you crazy.

Steve’s gripping your hips tightly to keep you steady. He pulls out to the tip, and you can feel his thighs tighten against your skin as he presses himself flush against you before thrusting inside. It’s rough, and it’s fast, and you scream. It hurts for a moment, but it’s quickly replaced by a trembling amount of pleasure. Eddie’s hand tangles in your hair as he directs your head to take him down your throat. It muffles your helpless mewls and sends shivers through Eddie in return.

Steve does his best to go slow, trying to make sure you adjust to him before he does anything else. You clench around him, sucking him in as he takes you slowly. Eddie can tell you’re suffering with his pace through your weak moans. He looks up at Steve and tilts his head. “You can do better than that,” he says.

Steve’s eyes were screwed shut, too focused on your constricting cunt to think of anything else. He glances at Eddie. “Tryna get her ready.”

Eddie scoffs, “Oh, she’s ready alright.” Steve’s still a little hesitant, he can tell. Eddie leans forward, wrapping a hand behind Steve’s neck to pull him closer. They’re so close now, Steve’s shallow breaths quicken. “Let go,” Eddie tells him. “I know you want to. She can handle it.”

And Steve listens. His slow pace is long forgotten, replaced with a speed that would rip you in half as he shoves his cock inside of you, only to pull out so he can do it again. You’re a moaning mess, gasping for breath and clenching the sheets underneath you. It feels so good, it’s hard for you to keep up when he’s splitting you apart on his cock.

Eddie’s fist tightening in your hair reminds you of your previous job. You take his cock in your hand, pumping him a couple of times before suckling on him. After a moment, Eddie takes control again. He presses your head down on him, pulling Steve forward to kiss him as he pistons inside of you from behind. You’re struggling to support yourself on your elbows, your legs are trembling and the sensations of Steve’s dick thrusting so roughly inside of you are too much. He fills you and fucks you until your brain is a pile of mush.

Eddie’s cock slides in and out of your throat as he guides you, sighing against Steve’s mouth as you take him. Your clit throbs between your legs, which Steve spreads apart even more to allow more access to your dripping cunt. His hips snapping against your ass are loud and wet, your arousal spilling out all over the both of you as it drips down your thighs.

Steve breaks from the kiss to kiss along your spine, whispering in your ear. “That’s it, baby. Squeeze that pussy. Show Daddy how good he’s making you feel,” he rasps, his teeth clenching down around a patch of skin to make you gasp again. His hand comes to wrap around your throat. He can feel Eddie’s cock thrusting in and out of it and it spurs him on.

“She’s an angel,” Eddie comments. “Fuck, I love her so much.”

Steve groans, “I can see why. She’s perfect.”

Their praise is making it hard to do anything but moan. You’re so full, and they’re doting on you like you’re their perfect girl—and you are. They make a point in letting you know.

Steve’s thrusts are becoming sloppy and Eddie’s becoming more vocal as he nears his own release. There are so many wet sounds and moans in the air, it’s hard to keep track of what’s coming from where. And when Steve’s finger presses against your clit, you’re done for.

Eddie pulls him up to kiss his lips again, and Steve’s fingers become faster. You’re going to burst, you’re going to explode. There’s no way you’ll last any longer like this, especially as he spreads your legs wider with his own. Eddie’s grip on your hair pushes you down just a little more, burying his length inside your throat.

Steve’s moan as he comes is muffled against Eddie’s mouth. His thrusts don’t stop as he comes, they’re closer together, and they’re rougher as he allows your pussy to milk him. That perfect spot mixed with the flick of his wrist pushes you over the edge. You come with a shout, pulling off of Eddie’s cock to gasp and moan and scream because, “Oh, fuck! Yes, Daddy!”

Eddie doesn’t get to come, and he’s not all that upset about it. He’s perfectly content to watch his lovers come all over each other in an explosion of lust and pleasure. Steve presses himself as far as he’ll go as you spasm around him, thighs trembling as your body falls heavily against the sheets, your face still laying on Eddie's lap.

When he pulls out, he’s still gasping for air. He sets you down gently so you don’t just fall onto the bed. You're limp as you slowly recover from your mind-numbing orgasm. You feel so empty without his cock filling you to the brim. He kisses along your spine, feather-light and praising with each connection of his lips to your skin.

He steps away from you, catching his breath as he looks up at Eddie. “Shit,” is all he says as he shakes his head. Eddie agrees with a dopey grin. He shifts off of the bed, running his hand through your hair to soothe you as you lay there helplessly. Steve runs a hand down your spine, and you feel all warm as they take care of you.

Steve sits at the edge of the bed, sweeping some hair from your cheek where it stuck to the layer of sweat on your skin. He bends down and kisses you there, whispering gently into your ear. “You did absolutely amazing, baby,” he coos. “I couldn’t have asked for more.”

You smile at him, even with your face still buried in the sheets. You feel Eddie’s hands on your waist. He flips you over so you’re on your back again. He bends over your body and kisses all over your face. You love him. You love him so much as he takes care of you, makes you feel special.

Your fuzzy thoughts are interrupted when you feel his cock against your pussy. You whine, and he just kisses the tip of your nose. “It’s okay, baby,” he whispers. “Just one more? Can I have one more?” Again, you whine, but it’s not out of denial. “I know, sweetheart. You’re still all sensitive. Just wanna make you feel good one more time, and then you can rest. Is that okay?”

You nod. You could never say no to Eddie, especially not when he acts all sweet—not that you would if you could. He beams, your heart warms at the sight. Eddie’s cock slips between your folds, teasing you for a moment as he coats himself in the mixture of yours and Steve’s cum.

He slips inside of you with ease. He sighs as he bottoms out, pressing deep within you. He clenches his teeth for a moment as you whimper, squirming underneath him. Steve fucked you raw, and you’re sure Eddie will, too. “Fuck, baby,” he sighs. “How the fuck are you still tight?”

You could ask the same question, but you’re still fucked out from before. Eddie starts moving in no time, grasping onto a pace as he slowly builds. You’re already moaning before he’s even gotten faster. Every nerve ending feels like it’s on fire. Every movement inside of you is unbearably good. You clench around him as he presses himself deeply within you. Steve may be thicker, but Eddie’s longer.

He fucks you good, holding onto your hips and bringing you to meet each thrust. You’re trying to find something to hold onto before Steve’s hands find yours, allowing you to grip onto him as Eddie takes what he wants. You can already feel your urge to come sneaking up on you. It doesn’t help that Eddie brings his thumb to tease your clit. He doesn’t really rub it, merely flicks and taps to drive you insane. It works.

You moan for him, feeling your cum dripping out of you beginning to stick to your thighs and fall onto the bed sheets. “You’re doing so well,” Steve whispers. His eyes are glued to your breasts, watching them bounce as Eddie fucks you hard. He’s mesmerized by the sight of them. He reaches out to cup one of them, playing with your nipples with watering lips. Steve loves your tits.

After a moment, he just moves off of the bed to lean beside it so he can press kisses to your chest. His lips trail along your skin, as if you need more teasing from these two. His lips wrap around your nipple, sucking harder as he flicks his tongue and teeth over the sensitive bud. And he does suck on them, just as he’d done with your clit when you rode his face.

“Fuck, baby,” Eddie gasps. “Gonna make me come inside you.” You nearly explode then and there. There’s so much going on. Your brain is fuzzy, your body is trembling, and you know you’re going to burst any second now.

Eddie tortures you with his thumb once more, circling your clit to bring you closer to your sweet release. Your body can’t take any more. You don’t wait for a command, you don’t announce yourself, you just come. You arch your back, pressing your chest further against Steve’s mouth, and shout. You clench down around Eddie as senseless cries leave your throat. Eddie thrusts rougher into you a couple of times before he comes after you.

The sound he makes is pathetic when he comes. It’s a mix of a whimper and a moan as he empties himself inside of you. You wrap your legs around his waist to pull him closer, deeper. He lingers there, relishing in the feeling of you squeezing his cock as you milk him.

After a while, he pulls out and Steve pulls off of your breast. You’re breathless and limp from the overstimulation crashing down on you. You’re exhausted. You want nothing more than to fall asleep squished between these two.

You feel both Eddie and Steve’s hands smooth over your aching body, gently massaging all of the tension from your limbs as you lay there, unable to bring yourself to move. You feel Eddie take hold of the underside of your thighs, lifting them up until you’re basically folded in half. Then you feel Eddie’s hot tongue against you again. This time, he’s greedy.

You mewl and whine and whimper as his languid tongue licks through your folds, tasting the mix of cum that dares to slip out of you. He suckles gently on your pussy, your clit, anything his tongue can reach. He cleans you up, and you do nothing but make your pathetic little sounds that are soon muffled by Steve’s lips.

Eddie doesn’t make you come again. He can tell you’re a little too sensitive for that, and you’ve already been so good. He takes a step back and is replaced by Steve, but only for a moment to allow him to lick you a couple of times and place a teasing kiss over your swollen clit.

They put you out of your misery by carefully lowering your thighs. They cuddle up into the sheets, watching you struggle to keep your eyes open. Eddie pulls you to his chest, allowing you to bury your face in his pecs as you cling to him. He feels you press a tiny kiss to his skin and just smiles. “So good, baby. So good,” he whispers into your ear. “I love you so much.”

You can only mumble, but he understands you without a drop of trouble. Steve takes his place behind you, but his arms reach behind Eddie to pull you both closer. Eddie glances at him over your head, smiling gently. Steve pulls the blankets up to cover the three of you, and lays back against the pillows, burying his face in your hair as he takes in your scent.

You don’t even try to fight your exhaustion. They can both already tell you’re fast asleep. Eddie sighs contentedly, watching as Steve settles down completely in the small bed. He smiles.

“Hey,” he whispers. Steve looks at him, humming a sound deep in his throat. Eddie licks his lips, “If you want to…I don’t know, join us…I’m sure she’ll be more than happy. ‘Course we’ll have to talk about it, and it doesn’t have to be weird or anything. Just—if you ever want to, it’s totally–”

“Hey,” Steve interrupts him with a small chuckle. “I’d be happy to.” Eddie smiles, ignoring the blush that had spread over his cheeks. He closes his eyes and pulls you closer.

Just you and Eddie and Steve.

Eddie the Banished taglist: @sweetcoffeebearr @life-on-needs @hb8301 @lovemegood @munsaniac @digital-charlie @katsukis1wife @eiriancrow @littleblondesoprano Tag yourself here...

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yourfavoritewitchbitch · 6 months

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Older!Wealthy!Steve Harrington x Female!Reader

You and Steve have an understanding. It's casual. Nothing more.

18+ Only! MInors DNI!

CW: Steve is in his mid-thirties. Readers age not specified. A tad angsty. Alludes to cheating. Use of pet names, no use of Y/N. Semi-Public Sex. Unprotected P in V. Creampie.

WC: 2K

“Steve? Are you even listening to me?”

“Hmm? Yeah, sorry.” He replies, briefly looking up at her disapproving scowl but his mind is still elsewhere.

She scoffs, taking another sip of the expensive wine in front of her.

“It was your idea to come out tonight. What's your problem?” She hisses, trying not to raise her voice enough to garner any attention from the other patrons but he could tell she was pissed nonetheless.

His problem was you.

It was reckless to be thinking of you while sitting across from her. His mind kept drifting to a couple of nights ago. The both of you in the backseat of his car headed back to his place.

You'd crawled into his lap as soon as the door was shut. Between frantic kisses and your hands unbuttoning his pants, he'd barely had enough time to roll the partition up before the driver climbed in.

You'd been meeting like this for weeks now, dinner and then back to his place for some casual sex. No strings attached.

Your lips never left his as you pulled his already hard cock free from its confinements. He hissed at the sudden contact. He hadn't expected you to be so aggressive tonight.

“Woah, honey, slow down. We've got plenty of time for that. We've got all night.” He said, catching your hand.

“No Steve, I need you now.” You whined, haphazardly rucking your dress up past your very bare core. You hadn't worn any underwear, swiftly grabbing his hand, guiding his fingertips through your slick folds.

“See what you do to me?” Biting your lip, lashes fluttering as you looked back up at him.

“Fuck, you're going to be the death of me.” Leaning his head back until it hit the head rest.

“You love it!” You grinned, quickly wrapping your hand back around his thick cock, lining him up with your entrance as you began to slowly sink down giving him no time to protest further.

Yeah, he did love it. The way you rode him like your life depended on it, the already blissed out expression on your face getting exactly what you needed from him. Getting exactly what you needed from each other.

He pulled you in for another needy kiss, as his fingers drifted to your puffy, aching clit. He swallowed up your moan as he began to draw tight circles against you, hell bent to see you cum at least once before you made it back to his apartment.

He's never been so turned on seeing the way you were so needy for him. It was going to be a long night. One that he was more than happy to stay up for.

“Come on, pretty girl. You gonna give it to me?” His voice low and dripping with lust.

“Almost there… mmm… don't stop!” You moaned out.

“Wouldn't dream of it.” His free hand fell to your hip, helping you bounce and grind on his cock as the ministrations to your clit continued. He loved watching the way he disappeared into your tight cunt, a ring of creamy spend around the base of him. That sight alone could send him over the edge.

Your cunt pulsed around him; you were close.

“There you go, honey. Be a good girl. Go ahead and let go.” He cooed as your orgasm began to wash over you. Your hips faltered, as he helped you move, working you through it.

“Fuck, Steve!” You yelled out, pushing his hand away when the sensation became too much.

“Oh, that was a big one huh?” He grinned, as you fell limp against him. His cock kicked up inside you, making a whimper fall from your lips.

The car rolled to a stop outside his apartment, knocking you from your momentary afterglow.

“Just in the nick of time, honey.” He chuckled, helping you from his lap, pushing his still hard length back into his trousers adjusting himself accordingly. He could manage the few minutes it took to travel up to the penthouse.

Steve got out of the car, moving swiftly to your side, extending his hand as your door opened.

“Shall we?”

“Of course, Mr. Harrington.” Giggling as you stepped out of the car, taking his arm as he led you through the front door nodding to the doorman on the way.

As soon as elevator doors closed, he pressed you up against the mirrored wall. Lips colliding with yours, his nose pressed into your cheek. It was hungry and needy as your lips parted, tongues suddenly dancing rhythmically.

His hands roamed your hips, grasping at the globes of your ass pressing you further into him and his aching need.

As the chime echoed, alerting you to your arrival to the top floor, he grabbed your hand and led you to his apartment.

There were few words spoken once you arrived. Clothes were quickly shed, thrown across the floor until you were laid bare with no preambles, shamelessly fucking each other into oblivion. It was always hard and dirty.

Until that night.

It felt like something had shifted between the two of you in the small time that you'd gotten to know each other. It could have been his imagination, but he thought maybe you felt it too.

It didn't go unnoticed by you the way he had been staring at you all evening, stars in his eyes as if you had hung the moon.

He took his time undressing you. A present to be unwrapped just for him.

It was slow and sensual. His lips trailing softly against your supple skin drawing out the sweetest sounds, prolonging your pleasure, feeling a little like torture that finally had you begging him to slide his cock into your tight, soaked pussy.

“Fuck, you always feel so good.” Whispered from the spot where his head was buried in the crook of your neck as he fucked into you.

“Mmhmm… s-so do you.”

“Yeah, angel? Making you feel good?” Snapping his hips a little more harshly this time, pushing his cock further into you, brushing past that spot that would see you seeing stars in no time.

“Ahhhh! Yes!” You let out with a whine, nails digging into his back. Reddened welts would be visible for a few days to come but he didn't mind. Just a reminder of how he could make you feel. How you made him feel.

He pushed up slightly, gripping the back of your knee and pushing it toward your chest. The new angle burying his cock impossibly deeper.

“Oh fuck!” Crying out as he brought your other leg into the same position.

He watched the way your head fell back further into the pillows, brow pinched and moans escaping your parted lips with each inward thrust.

His eyes trailed lower, watching where the two of you were connected as he split you open.

“Fuck, she's just sucking me in honey. Tight little pussy just loves this cock, huh?”

You nodded, mind starting to go fuzzy from sheer pleasure.

“Aww, honey. Too fucked out already?” He cooed as you nodded again. “That's okay, be a good girl and relax f’me.”

He released one leg, letting it fall back down as he continued to fuck into you. You watch him through half lidded eyes as he brought two fingers up to your lips.

You didn't have to be told, opening up as he shoved them inside your mouth, swirling your tongue around his thick digits as you began to suck.

“Such a good fucking girl. Get them nice and wet.” He praised.

Pulling them away with a pop, he pushed the tips of his fingers against your throbbing, neglected clit pulling more wanton moans from you as your hips bucked up in time to meet his next thrust.

“That's it baby. Feels good, huh?” Asking but not really expecting a reply knowing exactly where your head was at.

He applied more pressure working you toward your climax. His hips picked up the pace just a bit when he felt you flutter around him.

“Steve… I… mmm… I,” You tried to voice.

“Shhhh, baby girl, I know.” He soothed. He'd learned what you liked and didn't like, picking up the signs of your body easily.

His cock continues massaging your inner walls as his fingertips glide across your clit making you come undone. Your cunt fluttered once more before clamping down so hard it nearly pushed him from your soaked channel.

“Oh God!” You repeated over and over as sparks flew, feeling as if you were about to float away.

“Oh, fuck, there it is.” He pressed back inside you, not giving you any sort of reprieve, setting a near brutal pace chasing his own high.

He quickly followed, as his thrusts became a little more erratic. Your pussy still fluttering with aftershocks, taking everything he had to offer as he released his spend deep within you.

His chest was heaving as he dropped back down to you, chest to chest as you tried to draw in your own breaths. Head falling back to the crook of your neck.

You'd both allow yourself a moment before reality would edge itself back in.

He'd always ask if you wanted a shower, to which you always declined so instead he called his driver, who would have the car ready downstairs for you in just a few minutes. He never rushed you out, telling you to stay and freshen up, taking as much time as you needed before he slipped away into his oversized bathroom alone.

Not that night.

He slowly pulled his softening cock from you with a groan lying next to you, as you rolled over grabbing your phone to check it.

“Stay with me tonight?” His voice soft, barely above a whisper from behind you, making no attempt to move off the bed just yet.

You suddenly froze, unsure you'd heard him right as you set your phone back down.

“What?” You asked, turning back to look at him.

He sat up, hazel eyes shining in the low light, placing his hand against your cheek, guiding your lips to his.

Affection after postcoital was new, taking you by surprise but you didn't pull away, melting into his embrace.

“Stay with me?” He asked again, coming up for air.

“Sure. I… I can stay a little while.” You whispered back to him unsure of your own voice.

He grinned, leading you into the ensuite bathroom. Instead of taking a shower, he poured you both a bath. You made yourself cozy when he came back with flutes of champagne.

You talked a little more into the night, pulling each other close as lovers would do under his silk sheets letting sleep drag you both under.

He'd awakened before dawn, to find you still sleeping, naked and warm beside him. He kissed your shoulder tenderly, trying not to stir you as he got out of bed. He took another look at you before slipping out of the door for his morning jog.

When he returned you were gone, leaving behind the faint smell of your perfume in his sheets. The only inclination that you had been there.

He snapped out of it in time to find her across from him still droning on about something that he couldn't care less about. She was so self-absorbed she hadn't noticed he'd zoned out again.

He grabbed his whiskey, about to down the rest of it when he heard a familiar airy laughter floating across the murmur of the restaurant. It was like music to his ears.

His eyes found you immediately feeling a pang of jealousy when he noticed you were sitting across from him. You looked beautiful, as always. Too beautiful.

He gulped his whiskey in one swallow, eyes never leaving your form.

An idea struck as he pulled his phone from his pocket, quickly finding your name and typing out a quick text. He hadn't heard from you since that night, too worried he had asked too much of you.

My place later? We can skip dinner tonight. I can have my driver pick you up from anywhere.

He ordered another whiskey, waiting for your reply.

He watched the moment you checked your phone when he excused himself to the restroom. You smiled down at it, biting your lower lip as you typed your response.

Sure handsome. What time?

He couldn't help the smile that overtook his features as he read it.

No attachments. You had both agreed. It was casual, but is it casual now?

#steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington smut #steve harrington fic #steve harrinton x you #older!steve harrington #joe keery #steve harrington x reader smut #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington x female reader smut

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pinkcutiepiee · 3 months

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Holding hands with Steve Harrington [blurb]

Prompt: holding hands. always.

masterlist | request rules | requests are open

warnings: none, just not proofread [as per usual]

word count: 217

Steve and you had lost count of the number of times that somebody made a joke about how often you held hands. It was usually something along the lines of you being like conjoined twins - or simply being too obsessed with one another. But how could you not be obsessed with Steve?

Your hands fit perfectly together, holding hands felt natural, and right. It came as naturally as breathing to the two of you. It's never really been something that you had to think about - you just did it.

When you go out, your hands find each other without having to think about it. Even when you're sat, you're holding hands as often as possible. Even when your hands are preoccupied, you find yourselves trying to still hold hands.

The reason that Steve and you enjoy holding hands so much, you assumed, was about comfort. Knowing that the other is right there, safe and by your side. It is also one of the ways that helps you to ground yourself - especially in highly stressful or crowded places.

Feeling his larger, and arguably much softer hand in yours is the feasibly most basic way to show affection - but there's no doubt when it comes to knowing that you wouldn't have it any other way - and neither would he.

#stranger things #steve harrinton x reader #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington x reader fluff #steve harrington blurb #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington one shot

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superblysubpar · 11 months

Text

masterlist | the music

19.7k words | Sorry freaks, no smut this chapter - but the series is 18+ and so is my blog so skedaddle on out of here if you're not!

A/N: I have a really long one here - so I'll just say thank you once again and that I love you. Also, another special thank you to @sweetsweetjellybean and @loveshotzz💛💛

chapter warnings: very brief mention of religion (but not reader participating or believing in one in particular) | small mention/description of reader's maternal death and cancer symptoms | teeny tiny spoiler for the ending to the movie 'when harry met sally' | use of dialogue from the movie 'My Best Friends Wedding'

Why do we want to believe in things like fate or destiny - divine intervention? Why do some put their faith in religions with blind following? Why do we look to the stars in moments of despair, when we’re desperate for hope, when we’re lost?

We seek out answers from something we can’t see but we want to believe in. Whether it’s a fortune cookie in your take out, a penny head’s up on the sidewalk, a community of like minded souls coming together for prayer or worship, or a horoscope you read on your morning Instagram scroll - the reasons have to be the same for choosing to believe, for the hope that starts to rise in you for the promise these things try to offer.

We look for solutions to problems. We need reason. We need purpose. We need to feel like we’re not alone. We need confirmation that it’s all gonna work out even though nothing can really guarantee that.

When you look up at the stars that work hard to shine through clouds and a full moon, your chest rises with air trying to fill your lungs and you wonder if they’re up there. Your eyes blink up at that indigo sky, searching. Steve sits next to you and Leigh waves, whispering their hellos. His hand rests next to yours on the plaid blanket, he clears his throat and straightens his shoulders. It’s all too stiff, too on edge, and you hate it. That attempted deep breath is unsuccessful, lungs deflating as it catches in your throat, and your thoughts wander back to the stars again. They wander to him, and them, and seek answers.

What if they are up there, watching, like it’s one of those movies your mom was always putting on and your dad and you boo’d at from your spot playing cards. When he walked in with her with that on her finger, your mom would have gasped, she would have paused the movie, she would have yelled at you and your dad about the plot. She would have thrown popcorn at the TV and declared there’s something going on, he couldn’t, no way - there was no way. She’d have calmed herself down, rationalized there was still time left, gone to the pantry for more chocolate, kissed the top of your head and your dad’s cheek as she passed. By the end of the film, her prediction would have been right, she’d be crying and sighing at the couple who got their happy ending.

So could Steve declare his feelings for you here in a dramatic scene? Tell you it was all a big misunderstanding - that he’s sorry, that it was a rocky road but being together is worth fighting for? Could you leave here, hand in hand, as a top forty song plays and the credits roll?

Of course not.

Because this isn’t a rom com your mom would have loved. Life is not a movie full of soul-mates and cosmic connections. People like your parents are the exception to the rule. The couples who make it work - the ones who don’t let the trials of life take their love away like Allie and Noah, Kate and Sam, or Westley and Buttercup, are fictional characters. They’re stories to escape into when the despairing reality of yours is too much to read or write anymore. It’s exactly why you don’t like most movies or stories like theirs. Because eventually, the movies end, the credits do roll, and you have to face real life once again. Love like that doesn’t exist off the big screen, and you’re just kidding yourself when you fall into their traps.

Knowing this simple fact of reality doesn’t stop the hope though.

That painful, aching hope that clings to your skin like honey when you can feel the heat from his arm even through the sleeve of your sweater - like your bodies burn hotter when closer together - too close to the sun. It feeds the hope that your brain tries to squash away but your heart thuds harder for. The what if, what if, what if replacing each beat of it. Hope that makes you want to cry out ‘please let this just be a bad dream’ to the universe. Hope that tries, but can’t escape the gnawing pit in your stomach that’s growing wider, threatening to swallow you whole. Hope that makes you wonder why this can’t be a story - why can’t you just be the grandson, yelling at his grandfather that he can’t be telling it properly? Someone is getting the story wrong. He can’t be marrying her, you’re just sure of it. Screaming at him, at someone, to please, just get it right.

You wonder if someone were watching, would they be feeling the despair you are? Is this the moment? That scene in the movies is always the gut punch - for the audience and the character. It’s meant to hurt, make you hold your breath. Made to be dramatic - yell at the screen, break your heart, make the character in the action get back up and fight. They’re moments made to ignite that hope - but really, it’s the double tap - coming right after the feeling catches flame, that’s made to shatter you completely.

The moment that extinguishes the what if for all it’s worth. When the audience’s heart's already breaking for the grandson, only for the grandfather to ask who says life is fair? Where is that written? When the knife is entering your chest, but the mask falls and the killer turns out to be someone you thought you could trust. When you’re untethered in space only for your last moment of consciousness to be watching a friend cut the cord. The person who sucker punched you is now kicking you when you’re weak, taking it one step too far, leaving you crumpled on the mat. It’s all enough to make that fight, that urge to be angry instead of scared or hurt, disappear. It’s enough to knock you down so hard, you can’t possibly get back up - the hope is extinguished, and the story seemingly over.

Robin squeals quietly, pulling Leigh’s hand across you to admire the ring, knocking Steve on the shoulder and saying something about the Dingus doing good. Your gaze flits down to the brown sugar and apple donuts in your lap, convinced you’re about to get sick right on top of them. Not because he’s marrying her, but because instead of being angry with him, you feel like you’ve been squashed, you’re hurt, you’re betrayed. Despite your better judgment, despite the past several years, you’ve let a man make you some pathetic, sad, heartbroken, and weak version of yourself.

When Leigh’s hand retreats from Robin’s, lifting and curling a piece of hair behind her ear, diamond sparkling in the moonlight as she smiles over at Steve, your story’s end is written, and you need to accept it if you ever want some semblance of normalcy to return. You can’t lose him and them. But when Steve’s pinky brushes yours and you look over, his eyes resemble the broken beer bottle from the football game all those weeks ago. Shattered emerald and amber, cutting you to shreds with each shard of glass as he murmurs, “Can I tal-“

“I’ll be right back!” You whisper-shout, cutting him off and squeezing Robin’s shoulder as you get up.

She yanks on your wrist, halting your attempt at an exit. Her eyes narrow as she interrogates, “Where are you going?”

Swallowing harshly as her blue eyes peer directly into your soul. She can probably smell the desire to run on you. Remembering your vow that Steve won’t take them away from you, a not quite a lie falls from your lips as you gesture to the concession food trucks, “You don’t have those cinnamon roasted almonds. They were my mom’s favorite and the smell is driving me crazy. Promise that’s all.”

“I swear to god, if you don’t come back, I will literally come stand outside your window on the sidewalk and scream-sing Monster Mash until someone calls the cops and I’ll drag you down with me.”

Her eyes blink, features incredibly serious despite the amusing threat. Your laugh mixes with Leigh’s and you ignore the shared moment, tugging your wrist free. “Would expect nothing less Robin.”

She motions she’s watching you, fingers to her eyes then yours, lips twitching in the corners before she turns back to the screen.

Your feet feel heavy as they drag through the damp grass, and come to a stop to wait in line. It shouldn’t be a surprise after ordering when you hear his voice behind you. It floats through the air, soft, barely audible over the popping kettle corn, “I really didn’t know you’d be here. I wouldn’t have…” he sighs, settling on restating, “I didn’t know you’d be here.”

Your shoulders fall and your eyes stay focused on the truck. You’ve had time, since that night on the sidewalk, but your hurt still sits fresh under your layer of armor - tender like an open wound you need to keep protected. Your palms slide further under the sleeves of your sweater, clinging to the garment like the shield you’re willing it to be - you don’t want to fight with him anymore, no matter how hurt and angry you are.

So the tone you respond with aches to sound indifferent, if not a tad harsh, reminding him you’re mad and pretending there isn’t any spark of hope within you still. It’s over, it has to be over, and all it ever was to him was something to kill time - fun and no strings exactly what you wanted. So your words are really just a reminder to yourself, another layer of the wall you need to keep up around him, “It’s fine Steve. Would have been nice to get a head’s up,” your shoulders shrug, “But, well, that’s probably too generous for the girl you were just fucking while waiting for the one, right?”

The people next to you clear their throats and you can’t find it in yourself to care, to be embarrassed.

Steve moves in front of you, his face filling your vision. He shaved - no more scruff you like. His jeans are dark again, with fresh, new creases, and a light blue sweater pulls across his chest and shoulders. He’s picture perfect, his polished uniform in place.

He shakes his head, eyes bouncing between yours as he asks, “Is that really all it was?”

Your shoulders shrug again, because it’s easier. It’s easier to try to deny, to ignore the flutter the question causes in your stomach. Easier to bite back the words that try to form on your tongue. Because of course that’s not all it was, at least not to you. You wouldn’t feel the way you do right now if that were true. But what’s the point in telling him that though? What happens? Can you forgive each other for the words said, that, no matter how true, can’t be taken back? Things like this only end in heartbreak - because what happens if you tell him how you were starting to feel - does that change anything for him? And even if it did, that means a broken engagement, it means complicated truths coming out, it means attempts at forgiveness. And even after all of that, life won’t give you a guarantee. There is no promise of zero fights, of nothing bad ever happening. There is no happily ever after where the possibility of a break up, of losing everyone you’ve grown to care for deeply, doesn’t exist.

So yes, it’s easier to not say any of that, because you know. This isn’t how life works. This isn’t a movie. No one is immune to life’s misfortunes. These sorts of open-ended questions and complicated emotions that come from his simple ask are unmeasurable and unreliable. Wondering and giving into those feelings only open you up to be used as a target for someone else’s shooting practice. You’ve known this, but you allowed yourself to forget, hating it was Steve who had to remind you.

Which is why you look away from his eyes as you say, “I believe that is what was established a few weeks ago at that party Steve. You were there, remember? You were dressed as a pirate.”

His head drops, hands running through his perfectly styled hair as he laughs, breath shaky, like the laugh is covering up any feeling in his voice. “So, that’s it? We’re just gonna act like none of it happened? You don’t wanna talk. You run away every time we get a chance to do so, a beer in my face and-“

Your hand rising in the air cuts him off, his mouth clamps shut as you make eye contact with him. “You deserved that and I’m not apologizing for it.”

He takes a step closer to you, his hand reaching towards you, then back into his hair, second guessing himself. “I’m not asking you to, and I’m not apologizing for what I said either.” Steve swallows, hands on his hips as he looks at the ground then back up at you, “What I said wasn’t a lie.”

He breathes out the next words, both of you staring at each other with the weight of what he says hanging in the air between you.

“You couldn’t tell me.”

Your hands shake from the confrontation, from his request you left unanswered that night. The emotions that still want to bubble over, the time apart did nothing to cool either of you down. That what if, what if, what if that replaced your heartbeat grows louder, but your brain only shuts it down harder. If you hurt now, how will it feel if you keep feeding the flame only for him to extinguish it again?

The beat of your heart and those hopeful words thud in your ears as your head shakes and your voice tries not to, barely audible as the words leave your lips, “I don’t want to do this anymore Steve. We’re just going in circles. You’re getting married. You didn’t tell me. Can you look me in the eye and tell me you were really my friend while you were clearly getting engaged this whole time?”

Blue light flashes from the screen, catching the corner of your eye and illuminating his, their gaze bouncing over your face. Your bodies move closer like they can’t help it, like they know they won’t be this way again. Steve’s tongue darts over his bottom lip before his breath blows out, your name a whisper on it. The way he says your name with that look in his eyes, chests almost touching, it’s easy for your head to tilt with familiarity. Your breath out is his breath in, and it’s even easier to forget the last time you were this close. Sounds other than his harsh swallow and your heartbeat fade away. Time freezes, just a little, and the air pulses with a tangible possibility of hope.

A shrill classic horror movie scream shatters the bubble. Your name is called, you blink, and take a step away. Guilt washes over you as you see your friends staring intently at the movie you’d practically forgotten you were there for. Leigh and Robin talk quietly and your eyelids flutter as you will whatever wants to escape down your cheeks away.

“I don’t want to talk about this anymore Steve. I just want to go hang out with my friends. I need this to be over. Can it please be over?” You stare intently at the ground, one single tear slipping past your lashes. It feels like it rolls down your cheek for an hour before Steve finally answers.

“Okay,” he quietly agrees.

Your head nods once and you brush past him, barely choking out a whispered ‘by the way congratulations’ as you grab your snack. Hand swiping at the stray tear as you make your way back to the blanket slowly.

When you sit back down, Leigh’s typing on her phone. She squeezes Robin’s hand before whispering a goodbye to everyone. She jogs over to Steve, cocking her head at him. He pushes his hands through his hair again, giving her a short smile. He runs his thumb and forefinger down the bridge of his nose, swiping under it with the back of his hand. His other extends towards her as she reaches him, fingers lacing together as they walk out.

Robin’s shoulder nudges yours and your head turns to find her with eyebrows pinched together. She leans in and quietly asks, “Is he okay? Did he say something about leaving to you?”

Your head shakes, and you extend the bag to her with a tight smile. You will just keep lying to her. Steve and you will move on, and maybe, one day in the distant future, you’ll be able to tell her. It’ll all work out.

She mirrors your sad smile, the wrinkles in her forehead deepening as she takes a small handful and turns her attention back to the movie. Or she tries, but you watch as her eyes glance down to her phone every few minutes, until it lights up with his name and she quickly starts typing a response.

It’ll all be fine.

“Said ‘I’m fine’ but it wasn’t true. I don’t want to keep secrets just to keep you…”

The pop song playing overhead makes your teeth grind, your skin itch, it pries at your armor. It clangs its melody like fists on the metal plates around your heart, screaming to let it in.

Fuck Taylor Swift and her poetically relevant lyrics.

You’re fine.

“Mommy, why is that lady wearing pajamas?”

“Well, sometimes people, um, well maybe they’re sad or-“

“Not sad,” you call over your shoulder, but spin as you decide to face the stranger. The poor, unsuspecting stranger who is unprepared for the wrath of a person wearing blue, fuzzy pajama bottoms with ducks all over them, yellow smiley slippers, and holding several pints of Cherry Garcia in her arms. “Could just be sick. Or lazy. Could be a lot of different things, but sad is not one of them, and it’s rude to assume there’s any reason at all. I could just have wanted to stay comfy today, you don’t know!”

It’s almost laughable, if it wasn’t so humiliating or awkward. A practically audible record scratch kind of moment. Conversations of several other customers quiet then stop altogether. Eyes blink at you in concern and pity under too harsh of fluorescent lights, surrounded by neon advertisements and packaging trying to convince you the world isn’t shit as long as there’s junk food. The poppy beat overhead seems to play even louder, yet a pin could drop and people from another state would hear it.

The mother’s hand runs through the small child’s hair next to them as she stammers an apology, “I really…I’m sorry, I just-“

“No, no, I’m so sorry. It’s fine…I…” You close your eyes and turn back around, mortified beyond a depth you ever thought possible. The pints of ice cream tumble onto the sticky counter-top, lottery tickets beneath it staring up at you and mocking ‘hey wanna test your luck even more?’. Your hand flies up into the face of the cashier as you grumble, “Not a word, Keith.”

The employee you’ve come to know on your late night and early morning snack runs snorts. His mouth closes, slurping his Mountain Dew through a straw as he rings up the ice cream. His lips leave the red plastic, squeaking it against the lid harshly, about to tell you the price you already know, when a bottle of wine is placed on the counter with a low thunk. A leather clad arm extends across your vision, a second bottle landing beside it. A deep and familiar voice from behind your shoulder calls out, “These too. But definitely not because she’s sad.”

Turning, you find Eddie just as you knew you would, his brown eyes the same as they have been since you met. Full of warmth that’s contagious, except now something darkens them, they’re colder. Reminiscent of how they looked in a bathroom that feels like you were in it ten years ago instead of a month. They’re kind, but they’re hurt, confused, and most importantly - disappointed.

“Right,” you clear your throat and look away from them. Embarrassed, but adamant in your denial of the purchase and your appearance having any connotation with the emotion they all think you’re feeling. “These are not sad items.”

Despite the look in his eyes, Eddie’s lips twitch in a fight of a smile. He looks over your outfit and the hint of amusement disappears. His mouth turns down in a grimace. He faces Keith, hand waving across your form, “Right. Sad people don’t wear duckie pj’s to the store to buy ice cream and wine, they just don’t. People who ignore their friends though, they might…”

Honestly, the call out is nicer than what you deserve. You hadn’t dared to miss a text or call from Robin again, but all other group contact had gone unreciprocated for two weeks - convincing yourself it was easier for everyone that way. Biting the inside of your cheek, your eyes blink up at him apologetically, hopeful you can fix a small part of the mess you’ve made still. “Yeah. But if a person,” your hands wave as you speak, “Who isn’t sad,” you quickly tack on before continuing, “Did ignore their friends, it was probably for a good reason and she probably feels really bad about it and-“

“Jesus Christ, pay for your sad shit and get out,” Keith groans, snapping his fingers and then waggling them for payment.

Eddie mashes his lips together, a genuine smile threatening to break as he hands over a bill. He salutes as he grabs the bag of items. “Keep the change, dude.”

“See you tomorrow, new shipment of Ben and Jerry’s at nine A.M!” Keith calls to your retreating forms. Eddie and you turn in tandem, flipping him off.

“Mommy, what did that mean?”

Eddie snorts, his laugh finally bubbling out of him as you hide your eyes under one of your hands. The door swings closed behind you as the brisk November air does little to cool off your embarrassment.

His laughter trails off in a sigh and yours in a groan. When you peek at him from behind your fingers, you hold your breath as they fall to your side. Eddie’s eyes seem to poke and prod at you with their gaze, like you’re a frog laying open on a table for dissection. Like he already knows what he’s about to find, but he’s giving you an opportunity to just say it before he makes the first cut.

Gesturing towards the bag in his hand, your eyes drop to the ground as you clear your throat. “Thank you, you didn’t have to pay. And I really am sorry for going radio silent. I’ll get better at that.”

When he doesn’t respond right away, you risk a glance up. His brows are furrowed, meeting under parted bangs, brown eyes glued to your pajama pants. Eddie nods slowly, tucking his tongue into his cheek before clicking it against the roof of his mouth. Rocking back on his heels, the plastic bag swings at his side. “Sure. What are friends for?”

His eyes meet yours again finally, and as your lips part, he keeps going, his voice a little crisper than it’s been to you before. “Cause, we are friends. Right?”

Head nodding as your brows bunch together from the tone delivering the question. That and his gaze makes something under your skin itch, your feet restless against the pavement like a horse before a race.

Hesitation heavy in your words as you respond, “Yeah, of course…listen, I have to get back but-“

“Great,” he spins on his heel, heading down the sidewalk like he was waiting for those exact words to leave your mouth, “I’ll walk with you, sad girl.”

Blinking at his abrupt interruption, hand still raised to take the bag from him, it takes you several seconds for his words to register. He’s already halfway to the corner, your apartment just around it and you have to take a quick few jogs to catch up with his long strides as you call out, “I’m not sad.”

“Uh-huh,” Eddie nods, flicking a zippo in his hand, converse scuffing against the sidewalk as he kicks a pebble, “And I’m the King of England.”

Tired of his tone and demeanor you didn’t invite or ask for - you don’t need this. Eyes rolling as you huff past him, your shoulder bumping his harshly as you do. Eddie scoffs, but falls back into step close behind you, not letting you get away. “Quite the attitude to have with the friend who just bought your sad girl treat, even threw in the wine.”

Your shoulders hunch at his words, eyebrows pulling together and face growing hot as you fiddle with the first key to the apartment building. “Well, I didn’t ask you to buy it and if you only did to just rub it in my face you’re not really my friend. And I didn’t ask you to come here.”

Eddie’s hand lands on the door above your shoulder as you push it open, arm blocking you from entering. “Quit the tough girl act, you’re not fooling anyone.”

Your skin burns at his accusation, hands balling into fists at your sides. “I’m not trying to fool anyone, Eddie, or do anything. I literally don’t know what you’re talk-“

“Yeah, yeah, yeah, you can keep trying to sell this shit to everyone else, but I’m not buying.” He points inside, “Let’s go.”

Face feeling hotter than when you were six and scolded in public, you stomp through the entryway, each step echoing across the old tile. As you turn to head up the stairs, if only to get away from his all seeing eyes, the realization of what your apartment looks like and how extremely not ready it is for guests has you pausing mid stride.

When your gaze makes contact with his again, Eddie simply makes a statement. Flat, disappointed, and no question in his tone, “It’s worse than I think isn’t it.”

Before you can argue, before you can tell him to leave, the keys in your hand are snatched by swift fingers, and Eddie’s long legs are jumping up the stairs, skipping over several steps and disappearing around the landing. Chasing after him, the thundering of both of your feet is dulled by the faded and dingy carpet and the shriek of his name leaving your lips.

Watching as he pushes the key into the lock, turning the knob, you sprint down the hallway. Your body barrels into his, but it’s too late. Eddie falters from your weight crashing into him, but he remains upright, although slightly hunched, as your body clings to his, trying to drag him down. The door swings open and he winces, and you drop to the ground, defeated.

For the first time in a few days, you take in the state of your living space from an outside perspective. You watch as Eddie reviews it all for the first time - the take out on your counter, the empty beer bottles pushing the lid of the recycling up. The stack of Double O Seven DVDs on the coffee table. The couch covered in blankets because you’ve been sleeping there, your bed still sitting free of sheets in the other room. The bag of chips and the tub of frosting. It’s not a pretty picture.

Eddie suddenly crouches, hands grabbing at you and you push him away shrieking, crawling into your apartment and away from him. Both of you swat at each other, hair flying in faces and grunting like you’re siblings fighting over the remote.

“Go-get off! What the hell is your problem! Eddie!”

He manages to grab your phone out of your sweatshirt pocket and you leap towards him, arms over his shoulders, you reach for the phone, and he holds himself up on his knees, arm extending it away from you. He manages to tilt it just right to get your face to unlock it and you growl, thumping on his bicep as he shoves you off. He presses the familiar green icon on your home screen while you accuse, “What is your deal? What the fuck are you-“

Eddie groans, holding up the screen displaying the last song you’d been listening to and getting to his feet. He points towards your bedroom. “Go put on some jeans. No more sad girl music. No more cheese out of the can. Field trip. Let’s go.”

Your hand holding a slipper that had fallen off in the scuffle points towards the open door, any neighbors paying attention getting a hell of a show. Your scowl meets his frown. “Um, you can go. Don’t basically break into my home and insult Britney and Easy Cheese in the same sentence asshole. I’m not going anywhere with you.”

Eddie raises his eyebrows, they disappear under his bangs and he looks at you as if you’re the child you’re determined to act like. He sighs, voice dripping in drama as he heads into your kitchen, “I really didn’t want to do this, but you’ve left me with no other choice.” He spins the cheap metal cap off of one of the bottles of wine theatrically, flicking the cap onto the counter before turning the bottle upside down as he stares at you. “I’d get going. The ice cream is next.”

Your eyes roll as you scoff, “You’re not gonna do shit to the Ben and Jerry’s, you and I both know it.”

He starts on the second bottle, both ringed hands holding tight to each, red liquid splashing the sides of the sink. “I will literally drag you back out of here in your sad girl jammies to a very public place. I’m generously giving you the opportunity to avoid that embarrassment, but if you insist…”

Eddie sets the bottles down in the sink, stepping over to you in two strides, hands on your waist as he moves like he could toss you over his shoulder.

Your hands push at his chest. “Fucking fine! Give me a few minutes.” You start towards your room but spin sharply on your socked heel, one foot still in a slipper that skids as your finger points in his face. “Touch my ice cream and see what happens.”

He snorts, crossing his arms. “Big, tough words coming from a girl with chocolate frosting on her chest and ducks on her ass.”

You turn away from him, slamming the door on his call of, “If you ever want to see your precious Ben and Jerry’s again, you’ll be back out here in five minutes!”

When you make eye contact with the chocolate stain in the mirror, you have to suppress your groan.

Eddie’s Jeep tires crunch over gravel before coming to a stop in a homemade parking lot. Tan dust kicked up and floating through the air partially obscures where he’s taken you.

The entire twenty minute drive had been enveloped in stilted silence. He had managed to dump one of the pints while you changed, claiming to have thought you weren’t coming back out, and now he was on the receiving end of one of your finest silent treatments. His hand flexes on the gear, moving the car into park. As his jaw clenches while yanking the keys out of the ignition, you start to rethink your silence. There’s a part of you that wants, maybe needs, to run back to your apartment, lock the door, and never speak to him again. But there’s another part, far larger, and riddled with guilt, that made you follow him.

Staring out the window at the dilapidated bar, your voice feels scratchy from the lack of talking as you push out, “What are we doing-” Eddie’s driver’s door slams, and the end of your question falls into the empty car, flat, as you blink at his back walking away from you, “Here.”

As Eddie makes his way to the building, you hoist yourself out of the Jeep and begin to follow despite the cold shoulder. You’re willing to appease him and participate in whatever this field trip is if it means you can somehow get the apology you definitely owe him out - try to make things right for the mess you’ve pulled him into.

A faint and familiar sound echoes in the quiet and practically empty parking lot. The distinct whip of a ball and the ting and harsh smack of metal meeting it, mix with the crunch of rocks under your rubber soles. Behind the tired and washed out brick building, chain link fencing rises, hinting further to what the sounds are and where they’re coming from. The large red letters above the doorway spell out “Murray’s” in distinct vintage lettering, hollowed out with unlit bulbs reminiscent of an old theater’s marquee lights. You pause beneath the sign, stealing a deep breath because something tells you Eddie has officially pinned you to the table, and the first inevitable cut of the dissection is imminent. Your fingers curl around the gray, metal door’s industrial handle and pull, and you step inside.

Billie Holiday’s voice croons from somewhere deeper in the building. Voice and music crackling and staticky, like it’s playing off a real vinyl. The urge to find out why Eddie’s brought you to a place seemingly stuck in the past draws you deeper down the dimly lit hallway. Rich, red paint on the walls partially covered by framed photographs line the entire space. Black and white film prints of American icons, with individual golden lamps lighting up each from their spots attached to the frames. Your feet carry you past Elvis, Jackie Robinson, then Marilyn, and Michael Jackson before you enter a spacious and circular room.

Red vinyl booths line the curve on one side, small round tables meant for two lit by glowing lamps scattered across the floor. A stage and space for what appears to be a dancefloor sit opposite of you, nestled between the booths and a bar running across the opposite curve. Speckled and worn mirrors behind the bar reflect the wide range of liquor bottles and the different glassware in a variety of shapes and colors, clearly thrifted antiques, hanging above them. Eddie leans against the bar talking to an older man, neither of whom spare a glance in your direction.

This room’s photographs on the walls are covers of Life and Time, clippings from other renowned news outlets - all famous headlines like when man went to the moon and the JFK assassination, the Cubs winning the world series, spanning all the way to current events. As you spin, you see the vintage photo booth, much older than the one you and Steve took photographs in at Replay, and you push the memory away, focusing on the bulletin board next to it instead.

The flier for Corroded Coffin has your attention as the song crackles on it’s end notes, the next from the album playing softly. Billie’s voice sings the familiar lyrics of ‘I’ll Be Seeing You’ and your heart drops into your stomach, palms sweating profusely. Why the hell are you here? Why this song? Why, why, why.

“Ouch. Who broke your heart?”

The unfamiliar voice asks the same question Eddie had asked you back in September, and this time you’re even more unprepared for it. Your head whips to the side, gaze looking over your shoulders that hunch. Your body turns to face them head on, but your arms cross in defense. The man Eddie had been chatting with now has his focus solely on you. Wire rimmed glasses frame eyes that stare intently at you as he wipes down a glass. His balding head of hair and the confidence he carries, along with the way he tosses the rag over his shoulder before leaning on the bar, has you feeling like you’ve suddenly entered a sitcom.

Eddie continues to ignore you, one foot resting on the metal of stool as his ringed fingers crack peanuts. He avoids your gaze as you turn your frown on the man who seemed to have read your mind. You keep your voice as neutral as you can when you ask, “Excuse me?”

“Written all over your face, kid.” The nameless man, but you have a hunch the name of the establishment and him are one in the same, winces with his words. He pulls down three amber colored, short glasses, then a bottle of vodka. Before you can argue, he keeps going as he pours, “Well, maybe you’re not in love. Not yet anyway,” he muses to himself, “Or maybe he is and you don’t know how to let the poor sap down?”

His eyes lift from the glasses of alcohol to yours and he squints. Pausing before pouring the third glass, humming, “Wait, no, well…maybe.” Keeping his eyes on you as he tips back one of the generous shots before he breathes out with finality, “No.”

Eddie smirks into his own shot, as the man snaps in his face, but technically commands, “Name.”

Your mouth opens to stop this nonsense and analysis you absolutely didn’t ask for, but Eddie beats you to it. Eyebrows raised, mouth pursed as he offers up, “Steve.”

The man behind the bar hovers the liquor bottle above the now empty glass, blinking wide behind his frames. He sets the bottle down, pressing his palms to the bar top. Scoffing with an incredulous tone, “You’re kidding.”

“Excuse me!” You try to interrupt, but the man shakes his hands, ignoring your objection.

“We’ll deal with that little slip in the simulation some other time,” pushing the third glass down the bar towards you as he continues, “So, Steve,” he laughs a little, licking his bottom lip, “Right. So he loves us, maybe, but perhaps it is us who loves Steve? Mm, tragic, because he doesn’t reciprocate? Or are we too scared to tell him how we feel?”

Your shoulders are up to your ears now, arms wrapping around yourself even tighter, trying to make whatever see-through, vulnerable shield this man can penetrate more resilient. Your gaze is harsh on the side of Eddie’s face, death stare glaring and attempting to burn his cheek with only your eyes as you ask again, “What are we doing here?”

“The cosmic question, isn’t it?” The bartender muses, pouring another glass for himself. He raises his eyebrows at Eddie in a silent question who shakes his head no.

“I’m leaving.” You start to turn towards the door, but Eddie’s call behind you makes you freeze.

“Have fun walking back then!”

Your hands go to your pockets, searching, even though you know they’re empty. When you look at him, you see your phone in his fingers and his brown eyes that have turned to stone. “Yeah, I still have this. So either you can participate in the field trip, or you can walk all the way back home to your sad girl cave.”

“I’ll just have him call me a cab.” Gesturing to the nameless man with your solution.

“Murray,” he offers with a toothy grin and head nod, confirming your assumption.

Eddie laughs, cold, tossing a peanut shell on the bar, “Yeah? And pay for it how?”

You’ve been very, very, dumb, because it’s only now you realize the empty pockets would also mean you don’t have your wallet. Your eyes close in defeat.

When you open them, Eddie is staring at you and it feels an awful lot like that scalpel is resting just over your heart, waiting for any final words.

He doesn’t take his eyes off of you as he says, “I’ll take those quarters now.”

Murray rolls a tube across the bar to him, eyes darting back and forth between you two like he is watching a ping pong match.

Eddie grabs the roll, storming past you and down a different hallway, out the back door of the bar. The chipping black paint flutters as the door swings closed, a slam as it meets the frame making you flinch. The final notes of ‘I’ll Be Seeing You’ finish and you release a shaky breath.

“And I suppose I’m to follow him and his mysterious quarters?”

Murray’s lips twitch and he raises his hands in surrender. Your sigh and step towards the door has him dropping his hands though, nudging the still full glass of vodka towards you. Figuring it’s his way of telling you to clean and sterilize the wound before the prodding at it begins, you take a step closer. Hesitating slightly, your finger wraps around the amber glass, a deep breath leaves you as you tip it to your lips.

He nods his head towards you and raises his own glass, and as the liquid flows into your mouth, he toasts, “To Steve.”

The liquor sits on your tongue longer than you’d like it to as you glare at him. Swallowing it down, you blame the harsh burn in your throat for the prickle that’s forming behind your eyes.

Spinning on your heel to follow Eddie, Murray’s voice calls out quietly, making you pause.

“I’d tell him sooner, rather than later.”

Looking over your shoulder, he puts the glasses in a bin underneath the bar, not looking back at you as he quietly adds, “In my experience, there’s always space to dive deeper into the story. Things are often not what they appear to be. And well,” he chuckles to himself, “Harrington’s got a lot more going on under all that hair than meets the eye I think.” Your brows furrow as Murray looks up at you, patting his hand over his heart with a smirk on his lips, “And I’m not talking about the stuff on top of his head.”

Normally, the joke about Steve’s chest hair would have your lips twitch into a smile, a roll of your eyes, but instead, his words float through the air until they arrive in your gut, sitting heavy and dragging you down. They try to ignite that hope again, but you know it’s no use in letting it light anymore.

Your feet push forward, stomping down the hallway without a word back. As the door swings closed behind you, your eyes blink, adjusting to the harsh sunlight you’d forgotten was shining outside. The sounds from earlier now connecting to what’s before you. Several enclosed batting cages sit just beyond a wooden and covered back patio of the bar. There’s two older men with their bags of gear sitting at their feet. Each drinking a beer at a small wooden table, rubbing their shoulders. Eddie is inside one of the cages. His leather jacket hung on the fence, a blue helmet squishing down his curls. The white cotton of his baseball tee stretches over his flexing back muscles as he swings at a ball released by the machine.

As your feet scuff against the deck and then the gravel, you take another deep breath, mouth opening to just blurt out some sort of apology to him. Eddie stops the machine with a harsh smack to a button on the side of the cage. He comes out the door, holding the helmet and bat out to you, chest moving up and down with each ragged breath. He offers a closed lip smile as he says, “Your turn.”

“Eddie, I really don’t…” you trail off until you settle on just asking, “Why?”

“Would you just do it?” He frowns, tone annoyed as he extends his arms towards you further.

Eyebrows raised in anticipation he nods once as you take the items with a huff and stomp into the cage. As you place the helmet onto your head, and stare down the machine, you exhale and press the button. It whirs back to life as your hands wrap around the bat and you step up to the metaphorical plate, Eddie’s voice calling from over your shoulder as you do.

“So, wanna tell me why you’re sad? Talk about anything Murray said?”

Your fingers curl tighter around the grip, shoulders going up in defense again. Your jaw clenches before you grit out, “For the last time Eddie, I’m not sad. I’m fine.”

Eddie snorts behind you as you swing at the first ball released, missing.

Strike one.

“Sure, figured that’d be your answer. So,” he sighs heavily and you hear the fence rattle like he’s kicking it, “Why’re you avoiding us again then?”

You knew this topic couldn’t be dodged forever. It’s true, you’d been pulling away again since Halloween, and getting the save the date was the nail in your friendship’s coffin. As the wedding looms in the not so distant future, it’s easier to pull away from him, from all of them, because you know that they were and always will be Steve’s friends first. Intentions of not letting Steve keep them from you seem futile now, when you know the history and depth of friendship you’re up against. You’re not gonna say that to Eddie though, so as the next pitch is released, you swing and stammer out a pathetic lie.

“I-I’m not.” The ball makes contact, causing your forearms to vibrate from the bad swing. Your grip tightens so the bat doesn’t fall from your fingers as the ball pops up and behind you, rattling the fence.

“Well that’s a load of crap. Wanna know what I think?” Eddie yells, not pausing for you to refute and sarcastically continuing, “Great, I’m overjoyed to tell you.”

Your heel digs into the gravel and your eyes narrow on the whirring machine, waiting for him to sink the scalpel into you, defenseless - trapped from running away from him, stuck in this cage with nowhere to go to avoid what he’s about to tell you.

“I think you are sad. I think Murray was right and you don’t wanna admit it to him, to anyone, and especially not yourself. Instead of an easy fix of talking about it, you wanna sit in your pity and throw a party.” Eddie’s voice takes on a dramatic, high pitched imitation of you as the next ball is released and you swing, “I’m Y/N! Woe is me! I’m all alone! Nobody loves me!”

You miss the ball again, shoulders hunching in, desperate to make yourself smaller with each of the words that he shouts at your back. Turning to look over your shoulder, you glare at him.

Strike two.

Eddie leans against the fence, glaring right back at you with his eyebrows raised as you hiss, “You’re being an asshole.”

“Yeah? At least I’m an asshole who’s got friends,” he gestures towards you, “You clearly think you don’t.” You twist your toe in the gravel deeper, returning your focus to the machine and taking a deep breath as he keeps going. “I’ll have Murray pour you some more vodka and you can sit here and think about how your life is horrible. Truly tragic.”

Your eyes narrow from his bored tone, lifting your chin and elbow, adamant to ignore him.

“You have nothing and no one.”

Another exhale, your chest rises and falls with a deep inhale and your shoulders relax. Straining to hear the hint of the ball being released instead of Eddie yelling at you.

“Maybe you’ll get a cat one day, but ultimately you’re gonna die alone!”

SMACK.

Your bat meets the ball and it soars to the end of the cage and you spin on him. Face hot, your emotions bubbling and ready to explode. Anger mingling with adrenaline coursing through your veins from the hit, amping up how the words fall out of you in an angry cry.

“Yeah! I am Eddie! And that’s what I want! So fucking lay off!”

“Why?”

“Because it’s easier!”

When he yells right back, without pausing, asking you for a reason, the excuse falls out of you easily. Your mouth closes immediately after the words tumble out in your scream, tears pricking at the corner of your eyes as Eddie’s narrow. He shakes his head, volume lowering only slightly.

“Nah, that’s just fucking running. And take it from someone who ran for a long time, it feels easy, but it’s the furthest thing from. Eventually, you are going to get tired, and your problems will be right on your heels.

Facing the machine again so you don’t have to look into his eyes any longer, you shake your head no at him, letting a ball hit the end of your bat, popping forward limply as you try to speak with confidence.

“I’m not running from problems Eddie, I’m just…it’s easier to be the one who does the leaving than to be the one who’s left, okay?”

The words float through the air, unable to be taken back, and their weight makes something in your chest squeeze and constrict.

“That’s some next-level, glass half empty, pessimistic, depressing shit. And who the hell said anyone was going anywhere? You’re refusing to see that if you looked back for one second from the door you’ve been half out since you got here, that nobody else even has their shoes on.”

The squeezing in your chest only intensifies, his cut getting deeper as he searches for answers, and your bat hesitates halfway through your swing, sending a ball straight up into the air above you. You breathlessly ask, “What?”

Eddie waits until you look over your shoulder at him, emphasizing each word. “Nobody’s leaving you.”

His words hit you harder than your bat has hit any of the balls. It feels like one was pitched right into your gut, expelling all the air from your lungs and causing the tears that have been right behind your eyes to well up hard and fast. You spin to avoid his gaze again and square up for another pitch.

Eddie doesn’t know that it’s not a promise anyone can make - life doesn’t care.

Your head shakes, tears brimming on your lash line as you argue, “You can’t know that Eddie, not really. It’s better this way.”

SMACK.

A tear slips over your bottom lashes, trailing down your cheek as the bat makes good contact again and Eddie digs the scalpel in for his final cut. “Fine. Believe that. But you need to admit that you’re slamming the door on our faces and pretending like no one is still standing on the other side, knocking and asking to be let back in.”

The machine whirls, it wooshes with the release of a ball as another tear, and then another falls. Your vision progressively grows fuzzy, the world around you blurring as you swing again and his voice washes over you.

“Did you know that Nancy is a freak just like you, and I’m sure she’d be happy to split some Cherry Garcia any time? God help you both for liking such a disgusting flavor.”

You let the tears fall openly, but silently, as you swing harder this time. The weight in your stomach - the knots that have been forming since the very first lie was told - twist and tug harder.

“I know you’re not stupid enough to think I wouldn’t come have a beer with you, or take you to Target to get some new sheets or food that doesn’t have the Frito-Lay logo plastered on it.”

Another ball pops up and behind you as you clear your throat. Refusing to believe what he’s saying, you wonder if he can see the tears hitting the tan gravel beneath you and darkening it like drops of rain.

“And Robin! She’d love to watch Double O Seven with you. You should hear her Sean Connery impression. It’s terrible.” Eddie laughs a little and you twist the toe of your converse into the gravel, covering up a dark spot.

“But no. Instead of any of that, you just gave up. You didn’t give any of us a chance. Steve Harrinngton’s dumb ass is the only thing to blame for all your loneliness, sadness, and problems. So keep ignoring the footsteps running behind you and the knocking, or open the fucking door.”

You want to believe Eddie, you really do. But what happens when you come to rely on someone, need the support to lean on, and they’re gone?

Your head shakes harder, a sob stuck in your throat as you barely murmur, “Eddie, I can’t.”

His voice is softer than it has been all day as he asks, “Can’t or won’t?”

More tears fall past your lashes. The last ball is pitched and you choke out, “I’m sorry.”

You don’t attempt to swing at this one and it hits the fence behind you. The machine whirs one final time then stops.

“Yeah, me too.”

Heavy, suffocating, disappointment lingers in the air around you.

It takes several minutes, even more tears falling quietly, for you to remove the helmet from your head and drop both it and the bat on the ground with a clang. When you turn around, swiping at your cheeks, Eddie isn’t there.

Each drag of your feet inside is an active fight. Limbs heavy, heart even more so, because you know what awaits you inside before it’s confirmed.

Murray looks up from a keg he’s tapping and simply nods to the end of the bar. Your phone and wallet sit there and you know the Jeep and Eddie will be gone when you push out the door crying.

You’ve somehow done the leaving and were left this time.

Strike three.

It’s literally a symptom, or as some like to claim - stage - of grief.

Denial.

We lie all the time. We tell lies to spare or protect feelings, and more importantly, we lie to ourselves, instead of facing truths head on.

Because it’s easier to lie - to avoid, to shut something down, or deny its existence when it’s too hard to look at directly. Which is interesting. Why has there not been some sort of evolutionary transformation from this reaction? And really, the longer you wait to face something, the harder the truth is going to hit you. The time you give a truth to sit untold, unacknowledged, it only grows larger. That truth takes hearty roots, and your avoidance in the form of lies, whether to yourself or others, or both, only allows it to spread more rapidly.

Eventually, you will have to stop lying, to stop running, and that truth will have grown in strength. It has sprouted new truths or problems because your lies only fed it the fertilizer it needed to do so, and now it’s suddenly not the one thing you have to face anymore, but the multiple harder truths.

Which may be why you’re still outside, staring up at Nancy’s brownstone, where all of your friends, or well, the people you hope are still your friends are-

“Out of the bike lane!”

You jump forward onto the sidewalk just in time for a man in bright yellow spandex to zoom past you shouting some sort of curse as you clutch the dessert in your hands tighter.

Grateful you had a firm handle on it to begin with, it's one of the few family heirlooms you held onto along with the recipe it’s holding. Hoping to gain some sort of courage from deep within it, like your mom can offer you some through the dish, you make your way up the brick steps.

The only reason you're here, the only reason you’re facing this day the way you’re feeling just so happens to be the one to open the door before you can even ring the bell.

The door is flung open and her bright blue eyes fight to sparkle behind squinted eyelids that are almost shut she’s smiling so wide at you.

“Happy Friendsgiving!” Robin shouts louder than she needs to and holds her arms out in a dramatic greeting. She’s covered from fingertips to elbows in thick, orange goo, her clearly thrifted oversize old man sweater sleeves pushed up to her shoulders. You smile your first genuine smile in weeks as she goes to hug you and you both pause, rethinking it.

“Fall in a pumpkin?” You quip as you balance the dessert in your hand to shrug off one arm of your coat.

Robin wiggles her fingers and hands spirit and jazz style with a beam that shows off her dimple as she corrects, “Sweet potato casserole.”

“You fell in a sweet potato casserole?” Following her deeper into Nancy’s, you take in a long breath, the tight chest you’ve had since Eddie left you at Murray’s loosening with each word exchanged between you and her. But knowing you have to face him, Nancy, Steve and her, and continue to pretend nothing is wrong while around Robin, has the constricting pressure around your heart returning quickly.

Robin rolls her eyes, turning and walking backwards and making a face at you. She huffs as she turns back around, “No. Steve is making his famous mac and cheese and apparently I was annoying him, can you believe it? So him and Nance put me on mashing duty to keep me busy like a toddler.”

“You said it, not me!” Steve calls, his wine glass stopping before his lips when he makes eye contact with you.

Weeks of not seeing each other after the way you left things was going to be hard, you knew that. But you really weren’t prepared for how he looks today, or how it would affect you.

He’s got a burnt orange, almost brown, thick sweater on with light wash jeans. You’re sure both are from the section of his closet you stumbled upon months ago. That part holding his clothes he doesn’t wear often for whatever reason. He looks comfortable, casual, content. Down to the tube socks on his feet and the worn brown leather of the band of his watch. Your chest aches a little as you wonder if it’s Leigh that’s gotten him to relax into this version of himself. Even his hair, longer than a few weeks ago, is different than you’ve seen from him. Far messier than usual - like it hasn’t seen products or been styled lately, and several days of facial hair evident on his jaw. He looks like a version of Steve designed to torture you - a Steve who you’ve only gotten glimpses of and you miss before you’ve even really met.

“Hi,” he says quietly, smiling closed-lipped at you.

“Hi,” you offer with your own hesitant smile. Your fingers fiddle with the tinfoil over the edge of the dessert from your spot where you linger in the doorway.

“How are you? Do you…wine?” Steve stammers over his questions, cheeks turning pink. He spins and starts pouring you some without waiting for your answer. It gives you a small bit of relief that he’s as anxious as you are, neither of you knowing what comes next. Do you ever return to normal? And what is normal for you and Steve?

“Sure, yeah, good. You?”

Steve nods his head too quickly, spinning to face you again with the wine. “Good, yeah, thanks.”

“Good.”

“Yeah.”

Steve blinks at you, hazel eyes bright under the soft glow of Nancy’s pendant lighting hanging above her island. As you stare at each other, unsaid words float in the air, it was silly to think it could ever just be over with him. You miss entering a room and not sharing this awkward, palpable, tension - when it was a smile or joke exchanged instead of forced greetings, a warmth and joy felt instead of dread.

You hate that you don’t hate him.

You hate that there’s this horrible ache in your chest, like words want to tumble out but you physically can’t say them - why can’t you both just apologize? Why can’t that save the date be ripped to shreds? Why can’t it all work out?

“You two are acting weird.”

Robin’s voice bursts whatever bubble you were both in, and you clear your throat, looking down. Steve’s fingers adjust on the wine glass and he shakes his head.

Steve stammers, “N-no, we’re g-”

“Good?” Robin questions, eyebrows raised, “Yeah I gathered that.”

Before either of you can say anything in response, Nancy’s voice calls from the front door, “Crisis averted! I found a bag!”

Her brown curls bounce against her cheeks as she jogs into the kitchen. Dressed up in black suede boots and flared jeans, her tan peacoat left open showing off a silky black blouse. She pauses, mid stride, bag of marshmallows held aloft and her smile faltering as her gaze darts around the room.

Feeling warm under Robin’s sudden perceptiveness, you’re grateful when Nancy springs into action, relieving the awkward tension.

“Geez Robin, did any sweet potato end up in the dish? I left you alone with them for twenty minutes.”

Robin’s lips twitch slightly, eyes finally leaving Steve’s as she looks down at her hands, flexing her fingers, the orange goo becoming stiff and hard on her skin.

Nancy gives you a look, her eyes narrowed in a question but smiles when Robin looks back up. She places the marshmallows on the counter and grabs her hand. “Well, Y/N, can finish up.” She directs her next words to you, head nodding to a pan on the counter, “Put those marshmallows on top and stick it in the oven. Steve, your cheese isn’t gonna grate itself. And you,” Nancy tugs Robin out of the kitchen, smiling sweetly at her, “Are gonna come get cleaned up with me.”

Robin’s entire face turns pink, freckles standing out on her skin, from the way Nancy stares at her intently, like no one else exists. You look down, hiding your smile when Robin coughs, sputtering out something that you’re sure is supposed to be a yes. She eagerly nods and Steve huffs loudly, which makes her turn to glare over her shoulder at him, but it quickly turns into a smile as you call out, “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do!” to their retreating forms.

Their footsteps fade and Steve reaches out with one hand, looking at the dessert as he asks, “I can grab that from you?”

As the door to her bedroom clicks closed, you breathe out an exhale, unsure of how much longer you can keep it all up. His eyes are warm as his fingers brush the dish and you pull it back from his reach a bit, whispering, “It’s really fragile.”

Steve’s eyes bounce over your face, setting the wine down, both hands reaching for the dessert as he promises, quiet and sure, “I got it.”

Your fingertips graze each other as he takes it, and the electricity of just one more touch from him is enough kindling for the hope to spark. The heat from his stare has your cheeks warming and his turning pink. Steve’s lips twitch slightly in the corners as he glances down at the dish, then back up at you.

“So, this just from Mariano’s then?”

Your eyes roll hard at his assumption, scoffing as you turn to rip open the bag of marshmallows and keep your back to him. “You would ask if it was from there instead of Jewel.”

Steve knocks the faucet off from washing his hands, shaking them into the sink and flinging water across the stainless steel before drying them. He sucks his teeth with a wince as he turns to the counter, his shoulder next to yours. “Yeah, okay that’s fair.”

You laugh quietly, popping a marshmallow in your mouth in between placing them haphazardly across the orange mixture. Steve sighs next to you and gestures to the dish. “See, this is why I asked. No way you baked something. Didn’t think you could do anything in the kitchen except keep your take out menus impeccably organized.”

“Impeccably huh? That your word of the day on the calendar Robin got you?” You toss another marshmallow in your mouth with a smirk.

“Actually, no today’s word was assiduous.”

The veins in his hands flex as he grates the cheese, and he gives you a look as he says the word with confidence and emphasis, eyebrows raised.

You stall, taking a sip of your wine and hiding your smile in the glass before asking, “What, am I supposed to be impressed or something?”

He dumps the cheese into the pot and turns to you, cocking his head, tongue in his cheek before he frowns. “You’re not?”

Steve’s lips twitch, his facade breaking easily and you both laugh. Your shoulders relax further and so do his. Why does it have to be so easy with him, yet so hard?

“Actually, I think it will be you who’s impressed,” you start, making the marshmallows a little more purposeful and pretty for his sake.

“Oh yeah?”

You hum, nodding, “I made that pie from scratch.”

“No you didn’t.”

Looking up, you see him shaking his head. He makes eye contact with you and he shrugs, adamant, “Nope. No way.”

Your hands land on your hips as your tone turns indignant. “Yes I did! I made the crust from scratch, cold butter into flour and everything. Rolled it out, doctored up the filling in a pan on the stove. Brown sugar, the works.”

His hand stops on the second block of cheese, eyes narrowing at you as he questions, “Really?”

A laugh leaves you from the tone of his suspicion as you slide the pan holding Robin’s dish into the oven. “You sound like my dad when my mom made it the first time.”

Steve doesn’t say anything and your lip tugs between your teeth as you remember the moment between your parents. Maybe it’s the holiday, maybe you’re just tired, maybe it’s the few sips of alcohol that let the story fall out of you so easily.

“She was really awful at cooking,” you laugh, taking a sip of wine and waving your hand in the air, “I mean like, awful. She could serve you a grilled cheese that was somehow burnt but the cheese was cold? She got better, but anyways, I really don’t know why she thought she’d be any better at baking…”

Steve’s eyes meet yours briefly as he takes his own sip of wine and you look away, grabbing some of the cheese and deciding to help as you keep talking.

“I don’t remember how she decided to do this, but my dad was out of town for work, and she wanted to make him something special, and to her that was a pie, I guess? But she was adamant that it be from scratch. Made and baked with love. And so we did. We went and got all of the ingredients, and we destroyed the kitchen, but it was the most fun I’ve ever had with her. We listened to Dolly Parton and drank wine all day, totally got flour and butter everywhere, I told her about classes, and the guy I was seeing…”

Your eyes drift off the counter, remembering it was right before you knew she was sick and your chin trembles as a watery laugh leaves you, “And then my dad got home. Oh my god, his face. He, he…” you blink away tears as you start laughing harder, “He just dropped his duffle bag on the ground and shook his head looking around in shock and my mom yelled ‘We made you a pie!’ and my dad just raised his eyebrows and said ‘Sure looks like you made somethin’.”

The last words come out shaky and it isn’t until you feel a pressure on top of one of your hands that you realize you had been grating the cheese down to almost nothing, stealing it from him. Glancing up through blurry vision, tears continue to fall down your cheeks as Steve quietly asks, “But it was good?”

You snort, more tears leaving you as you shake your head no. “It was inedible,” you laugh harder, “Like raw, but somehow dry and clumpy, so bad.”

Steve squeezes your hand, eyebrows furrowing together as his confusion settles deeper in his face and he starts cautiously, “So…you…made an inedible pie for us tonight?”

Your head shakes more and you take a deep breath, laughter and tears slowing. “No, after that, she, um…” closing your eyes, you take a deep breath and push out, “She needed to keep her hands working…”

When you open your eyes again, Steve’s staring intently at you, waiting. You wonder why he can wait patiently for this story, look at you like he’d wait an eternity for you to tell him the ending, but he couldn’t wait for you. But, would you have wanted him to? When you’re certain that the potential of losing him, all of them, completely, isn’t worth the risk. Would he have waited forever for you to change your mind?

Your voice breaks as you finish, “Her chemo…she started to get neuropathy, and making the crust and keeping her hands and brain busy helped. So she kept practicing until it was perfect. And now it’s one of the last things I have from her. The dish too, we went and searched for the right one…” Fingers of your free hand form quotation marks as you roll your eyes with a laugh, remembering her ridiculous insistence on it and the day of estate sales and thrift stores.

It’s silent as the unsaid ending washes over you both, the importance - the weight - of the dessert and the story. The immediate need to take it all back rises up in you hard, wishing you could put the entire thing back inside yourself and rewind the last few minutes. The vulnerability leaves you cracked open and exposed to him and you’re not sure you can handle his reaction.

“I’m sorry,” your brows furrow, “I don’t know why I just…”

Steve’s fingers wrap around yours tighter and he squeezes. Your eyes meet the moss and honey you want to avoid because you’re sure they’re looking at you with that look. The pitying one, the one that everyone gets before they tell you a sorry that doesn’t help.

But Steve’s eyes shine with something stronger - admiration and amusement as he winces, “So, see, that story tells me that your mom practiced and practiced to make a perfect pie not you and-”

Your hand smacks at his chest lightheartedly, laughing around a protest. Steve holds his hands up in surrender, “Hey, hey, okay!”

Both of your laughter subsides and he smiles, a genuine smile, one side of his lips twisted up as he looks at the pie then you. “I’m sure it’s great. I’m excited to try it. Thank you for telling me that…I wish I could have met…”

As he trails off, your fingers brush against his on the counter, your bodies shift closer, letting the story and laughter pull you into each other’s gravity once more. Maybe it doesn’t have to be hard - there’s a reason you can fall so easily back into each other. A reason you can offer up a story you normally keep close if he’s the one listening, a reason you can forgive. There has to be a reason your body wants to be closer to his, a reason you want to feel his lips on yours again. Maybe there are cosmic connections, unexplainable phenomena of the universe, fate and destiny and invisible strings.

Hope flourishes inside of you, it catches on every bounce of his eyes over your face, the way his finger nudges against yours just like they did in that car ride to a lake so many weeks ago. It sparks and drifts into the air, it floats around you like embers from an actual fire as he breathes your name out and your body takes one step closer, making you chest to chest. One easy tilt of your head, one bend from his and maybe it’d all be okay again.

The doorbell rings, making both of you jump apart. The reality of the situation hits you, like someone dumped an entire bucket of water over the hope as Steve looks toward the door and frowns. You keep letting yourself end up in this position and eventually it’s going to hurt so much you’ll never be able to come back from it.

You’re not his, he’s not yours, and it’s too late. Another girl calls him baby, he calls her honey, and they go on and have the life you were certain you never wanted - all because you can’t let him in the way he wanted you to. This isn’t a movie, there is no rewind, there is no pause, and it’s time to move on.

“I’ll go get that, you have cheese to…uh…”

“Y/N, wait-”

You’re already out of the kitchen, speed walking to the front door. Dreading the girl you’re certain is on the other side, you start to pull your shoes back on. Maybe you could slip out with an excuse and leave. Your destiny isn’t Steve, it’s to always run, to always be alone.

The door swings open and you look up from your crouched position, one shoe on. Eddie is standing in the doorway, holding a bag of Hawaiian Rolls and looking at you, eyebrows raised in wait.

He holds open the door and gestures outside as he asks, “Should I leave this open?”

Your stomach swoops, thinking of the chance he’s giving you, the opportunity to do what you want, no questions asked. But your heartbeat thuds loudly in your ears at the opposite side of the coin - the other chance he’s giving you.

A deep breath is exhaled as you shakily ask, “That depends…are you still knocking?”

Eddie shrugs. “Maybe. Only one way to really find out right?”

Nodding once, you stand. A limped step over to the door with one shoe on, and you close it. Your palm rests flat against the wood as you take another calming breath. The sounds of the others in the kitchen are muffled as you turn around and look up at Eddie. You kick off the shoe, take a step forward, and mime opening a door.

Letting a tear slip past your lash line, you shrug, standing in the metaphorical open doorway and hold your breath.

He smiles, wrapping an arm around your shoulders. “Thank god, my arm was getting really tired.”

Another watery laugh starts to escape you and you wrap your arms around him in a hug. “I’m sorry. For everything, for dragging you into all of this and for leading you on and…and…”

He extends his fingers, counting his points as he sighs, “You forgot for being stubborn, for not asking me to be the Inigo to your Buttercup, for-”

“I’m sorry.” You force every ounce of meaning behind the words as you squeeze his waist tighter and he finally meets your hug, long arms wrapping around you.

“We’re all good sweetheart, don’t sweat it.” He pats your shoulder and takes a step back, cocking his head, “But that’s not all…” he taps his finger to your forehead, “What else is going on up there? Why were you leaving?”

“Y/N, please don’t…” Steve trails off as he comes into the entryway. You duck your head and sniff quietly, hoping there’s no evidence of your tears that escaped and break away as Steve clears his throat. “So-sorry. I thought you were…nevermind.”

Steve turns quickly on his heel, back towards the kitchen where the sounds of Robin and Nancy arguing about something echo louder down the hall. Eddie sighs, rolling his eyes at Steve’s back, and gestures for you to go before him, quietly whispering, “We’ll chat later about that.”

“Why does it smell like that? What did you put in it?” Nancy is bent down, looking at the dish you placed in the oven. Her hair is damp, curls weighed down against her cheeks, but her sleek outfit is back on, sans coat, sleeves rolled up.

Robin’s hair has a towel twirled on top of it, though she’s otherwise back in her jeans and sweater, her hands on her hips. “I don’t know! I did exactly what you said!”

“What’s going on?” Eddie asks, tossing the bread onto the counter.

“You don’t smell that?” Nancy shakes her head, hand held out to the air in exasperation.

Steve’s back is to you as he dumps cooked noodles into his pot of melted cheese and Eddie shakes his head no. Your nose starts to wrinkle though the longer you sit in the space.

Your hands raise, “I swear I just put the marshmallows on.”

It takes Nancy gagging on a bite she tries to eat of the casserole and Steve going through his spices next to his pot to realize Robin used paprika instead of cinnamon. A lot of paprika.

She throws her hands up in the air as she storms out to the deck, where you’ve all decided it’d be better to eat, bundled up from the cold, than inside trapped with the smell. “You know what, I never asked to cook anything so eat you’ll eat your paprika sweet potatoes and like it!”

As everyone sits at the table, Eddie looks around and asks, “Shouldn’t we wait for one more?”

“What?” Steve asks him, tone a little sharp, sitting down in the seat across from you.

“Your fiance? Isn’t she coming?” Eddie prods, meeting Steve’s cold attitude with an equal sting and rolled back shoulders.

“I’m sure she was earlier,” Robin mumbles into her wine glass, “Ow.” She glares at Steve who kicks her under the table.

Nancy rolls her eyes as Steve shakes his head no, clearing his throat, “She’s…we haven’t…she’s with her family already.”

Robin sighs from her spot next to you and your eyes meet Steve’s before jumping down to your plate. The pressure around your heart squeezes even tighter - maybe it was only easy with him because she’s not here, and that is not always going to be the case. Your fingers itch, neck rolling from the tension. You want to get up and walk away, but Eddie’s knee nudges yours and your shoulders relax slightly.

Nancy raises her glass, changing the subject, “Okay, before we dig in, I want to say that I’m very grateful for you all, and here’s to many more years of Friendsgiving.” She smiles at Robin when she uses the name.

Robin beams, holding her glass up too, “Here, here! Now everyone take two scoops of the potatoes.”

Glasses clink and laughter shared, it's easy for you to believe Nancy. Easy with Steve smiling across from you and Eddie and Robin bickering about the food next to you, with her not there, to believe that you’ll be a part of their stories. Maybe -

“So, Dingus, it’s time to spill all the details about Leigh.” Robin leans forward on the table, her eyebrows raised as Steve’s glass pauses halfway to his mouth. “We don’t know anything and you’re getting married in like five months.”

Nancy and Eddie’s bites and glasses also freeze, not so discreet looks at you from both of them. Nancy finishes swallowing and shakes her head, “Robin, we know enough! Let Steve-”

“No we don’t! I don’t know how you met, or if she’s moved in, and how he proposed and why on earth he didn’t tell his best friend! I have him cornered finally and you’re all gonna help me. Don’t act like you guys don’t want to know either!”

“Robin,” Steve starts licking his lips as he looks at her then you, “Can we not do this right now?”

“Time’s up bub,” Robin frowns, shaking her head, “I promise we like her, she’s cool. But you’ve been dodging the questions and me for weeks now. Start with the easy one, how’d you meet?”

Steve looks at you like he’s in physical pain and you look down at the liquid in your wine glass, swirling the red wine around as you wait for the story that is sure to kill you. You wish he’d just rip the band-aid off, get it over with.

“We, uh, met through my parents.” Steve swallows a large gulp of wine.

Your head whips up at the comment and Steve stares at you, frowning before he looks up at the sky.

Robin’s brows furrow as she asks, “Your parents?” Equally shocked as you are. It isn’t a secret that Steve and his parents aren’t always on the same page.

Steve rubs at his forehead, closing his eyes before he sets the wine glass down. He straightens, rolling his shoulders back, “Okay, it’s all going to come out anyways so…our parents set us up. It’s been arranged for awhile, we didn’t really date or anything, we’re getting married because that’s what we do. She’s from a good family and I’m from a good family, it makes sense. For business and life and…that’s it.”

The table is silent as Steve’s lips twist, waiting for someone to say something.

Your heartbeat isn’t loud in your ears, your stomach doesn’t swoop - it’s like all noise has left the planet. It’s like someone actually hit pause as his explanation and the last few months catch up with each other in your brain until they meet in a loud explosion. It’s an actual glass shattering sound effect. Heartbreak and hope and disbelief and anger swell inside of you like a wave ready to devour anyone who was stupid enough to enter the unpredictable ocean.

It’s surprising to everyone, including yourself, when you’re the one to break the silence. The question leaves you so quietly, you weren’t even certain you asked it out loud until he looked at you.

“So you’re not in love with her?”

As Steve stares at you, the table floats away, it’s just you and him. His mouth parts, but no response falls from it. You stand abruptly, chair scraping against the wood deck harshly as you push back, muttering something about needing to put the dessert into the oven. Your stomach that’s been twisted into knots for months feels like someone pulled one loose thread and it’s unraveling inside of you. A box of bouncy balls released, an unpredictable canon of confetti, trapeze artists, butterflies, boulders, and a deep ocean swallowing you. All of it, finally coming together and creating catastrophe.

It’s like every single moment you’ve been angry with him is turned up to eleven, but so is every look and touch. Every single one feels like a lie, a slap to your face - he was just using you because he was indecisive, scared, afraid to give up his single life. Steve Harrington was just like every other man. Your entire last few months swirl around inside your brain, replaying every moment, every emotion like a favorite movie. But it’s like someone took that film and told you every single thing wrong with it. Like they pointed out how everything you loved was just covering up the real and horrible plot - bright lights and pretty sets to convince everyone they had a good time, when in reality it was cheaply made and not worth it.

Your hands shake as you start to rip at the foil covering the pie, and his voice calls out behind you, “Please let me answer that question. Please let me explain.”

A scoff leaves you, eyes closing as you bite back, “It’s fine Steve. Clearly I was just some placeholder for you the whole time.”

“Placeholder?”

You spin, hands in the air as you search for words to make him see how much this hurts you. “Yeah, yes. Some, I don’t know. Last hurrah!”

“What?” The word comes out sharp, like he truly doesn’t understand what you’re saying. His cheeks are pink, his hair blown from the wind outside, eyes wide and blinking at you like you’re crazy.

“You heard me! I was just some fun fuck before you sealed the deal on your spoiled brat fate.”

Steve’s mouth falls open, then quickly closes, taking a step closer, hands clenched into fists as his brows furrow. His jaw tightens with each word, “I’m not a spoiled brat!”

Another scoff, a cold laugh as you wave your hand again. “Oh please Steve! You used me to bide your time and prolong the inevitable! You were just avoiding looking at the contract you signed!”

Steve stands over you, both of your chests rising and falling in time, the air inside the kitchen warmer from the oven being on all day and your words shouted at each other - the sparks leaping from your bodies and engulfing each other.

“I didn’t use you! You offered! It was all your idea! I’m so sick of this-”

You shove at his chest and he grabs your wrists, as you mock him, voice dripping with fake pity, “Oh, poor Steve Harrington. I have to get married and say goodbye to my single life, but let me use this girl-”

“This isn’t about me, I have to make decisions that affect my whole family, I can’t just say no! And what was I supposed to do? The person I want doesn’t want me!” HIs voice cracks as he drops your hands, fire cracking and sizzling between you both. His admission, the chance to tell him he’s wrong, that you do want him, makes your heart beat turn rapid, like it’s actually trying to punch its way out of your body.

You shake your head, pushing down the flames of hope threatening to burn you alive, pushing him away. “You saw an opportunity to postpone but not fully deny. It’s fine Steve, I get it. It was the safe option.”

“What is that supposed to mean?”

Grabbing the pie, you sob, “Security. Money. You couldn’t say no to them. And then when I offered to fuck you no strings attached? Man,” you scoff out another laugh around your tears, “You probably thought you won the lottery, huh?”

Steve grabs for the pie, his eyes wet as he shakes his head. Voice hoarse as he argues, “You’re so unbelievably wrong. I couldn’t fucking wait for you to maybe, hopefully, open up one day! I have to move on! And it’s not like she’s a bad person, and I don’t know why we’re arguing about this again, because clearly you’re with Eddie.”

You tug harder on the dish but Steve doesn’t release as you cry out, “Oh! No! Don’t even try that! Eddie and I aren’t together and we never were! You’re using that as an excuse! Tell me Steve. Tell me you love her, that you want to marry her.”

“I-”

“Is that what your future looks like? Huh? Ten years down the road, it’s her? That’s what you imagined and not your parents?”

“Y/N, it’s not that simple!”

“It is! What do you want, Steve?”

You need him to tell you and he needs you to tell him and neither of you will - because you’re scared, stubborn. Two suns burning too hot and close together, and it was inevitable for it to end this way. You both stood on the edge of that cliff and saw the end you’d meet and you jumped anyway. Was it worth it?

“I can’t believe you two.”

This is the moment.

It wasn’t when he showed up at the football game with her. It wasn’t the party. It wasn’t the engagement.

It’s the look Robin is giving you both from her spot in the doorway. It’s the pie and the glass dish hitting the floor in shards of sapphire blue and orange peaches. It’s Steve and you both turning to her, shaking your heads no, saying her name in the same pleading way.

Her bright blue eyes turn to glass as she chokes around a tearful laugh, “I knew, I knew you both were hiding something, I just…why? Why couldn’t you just tell me?”

Nancy reaches for Robin’s wrist, “Robin, they didn’t mean to…”

Robin recoils, swiping at her cheeks. She looks at Nancy, then at Steve whose head falls, his hands in his hair. Eddie looks down too when Robin turns to him and she steps back again. “Everyone knew, huh? You all have been lying to me this entire time? Why? I don’t…” She shakes her head again and runs past you both, down the hall and slams the door.

Steve starts to go after her when a small frame stands in front of him like she’s twice his size, hand pressing to his chest. Fury burns in Nancy’s eyes as she blocks the hallway. Her voice low and far more angry than you’ve heard it be before. “I think you’ve done enough.”

“Nance, come on, that’s not fair,” Steve steps forward again and when she stops him with two hands now, his voice turns sharper, “Don’t act like you’re the only one who cares about her.”

“Yeah, well you’ve got a funny way of showing it Steve.” Nancy looks at you, “I think you should leave. All of you.”

Eddie grabs your elbow, speaking quietly, “I can drive you home.”

Steve laughs, “Oh, I’m sure you can.”

“Steve,” you start and he interrupts you, hands running down his face.

“No. It’s fine. It’s all my fault right? I’m the only one in the wrong?” He pushes past you, shoulder hitting Eddie’s hard and the door slamming even more so behind him. Pictures rattle against the wall, Nancy and her family's smiling faces tilted in their frame. The world turned off its axis.

It’s Nancy’s quiet knock from down the hall, Robin’s shouted ‘leave her alone’ and Eddie’s sigh of ‘fucking, christ’. It’s that there you stand, the door closed behind him, the mess you made, literally, surrounding you.

This, the consequences of all of your actions - is the double tap.

You let the mess build, you let the avoided truths take deeper roots and spread lies to cover them up. All because you wanted the hope to stay - you wanted it both ways - despite telling yourself different, despite lying to yourself for months.

Now, it’s too late. You’re just a girl who isn’t in a rom com with a happy ending. You’re alone, and the hope that maybe you wouldn’t be for once isn’t just gone, it’s ripped from your fingers.

The book is closed. The knife drips in the killer’s hand as the victim’s chest stops heaving. The spacesuit floats through a noiseless and lifeless galaxy. The body doesn’t get up from the mats and a silence falls over the crowd.

“Fuck!”

Your hands smack the steering wheel, a sob leaving you as your forehead falls against it.

You’ve been driving around for hours, hopeless. Your heart hasn’t stopped its erratic and hard beats since you ran out of Nancy’s. Somehow your body still courses with adrenaline, fight or flight still at war inside of yourself. Every time you think about the look Robin had on her face, every time you think about how much you hurt her, or how you may not see her again, you feel real, visceral, pain and panic. Your hands start shaking, the crying starts its cycle over from scratch, and you have to pull over until the snot sobbing stage settles into a calm, sort of silent cry.

This is a mess, and it’s your mess. Despite wanting to put all of the blame on Steve, you simply can’t run from this truth anymore. It was you who came up with the plan. Steve was hesitant immediately, bringing Robin’s thoughts up right away. It was you who came up with the Red Hot Ranch code, who kept going. It was you who called it off and started it up again despite knowing how it would all inevitably end. It feels like you pushed Steve off the cliff and thought it was okay because you were diving after him.

As you stare out the windshield, you know you have to stop running. Eddie’s words ring through the air.

Open the fucking door. Nobody’s leaving you.

You have to at least try, right? You have to apologize to her, to tell her it was all your fault so if she at least doesn’t forgive you, maybe you can offer a crack in the door to her forgiveness for the others. The others who simply got caught up in your lies, tripping over the tangled knot of roots they took.

You’re certain Robin and you met how and when you did not by chance, the universe gave you each other for a reason. You’re certain that there are soul mates, they’re just not in the form you always suspect. And you’re certain that if you don’t try to make things right, you’ll be miserable and truly alone for the rest of your life.

Robin once told you that she was there, and that she would be there when you were ready and you hope the offer still stands. Maybe you can’t make everything right, you can’t rewind, but you have to at least try to make the ending bearable.

When you turn the key in the ignition though, your car sputters. Your face twists into an expression of disbelief, only deepening when it does it again and your mouth falls open in shock when it suddenly starts to rain, mixing with snow that melts immediately on the ground. You laugh, looking out the windshield at the bleak and miserable sky, washing out the city in a dull gray.

“Of fucking course,” you mumble under your breath. Getting out of the car, you sigh as you lock it. You shield your eyes as you stare up at the sky and laugh, “You’re real funny. Great joke.”

Maybe it was a sign from the universe that you needed to really work for it, maybe it was bad karma, maybe you really deserved it, maybe it was even supposed to be a blessing - washing away the past to clear the slate for the future.

Regardless of reason, you don’t take the train, and you make the slow and wet walk back to where you came from.

The buzzer for her place rings with no answer. You know that she’s home because the light is on, and you intercepted her take out.

“Buckley I’ll keep buzzing, your egg rolls are getting cold!”

When she doesn’t answer again, you sigh, pressing your wet forehead to the cold brick and hold it down again, pulling out the big guns. “Okay, Robin, I, listen. I am so sorry. And if you want to hate me and never see me again, that’s totally fine, I understand. Because honestly, I am…I am scum for lying to you. I am pond scum. I’m lower than pond scum. I am the fungus that feeds on the pond scum.”

You release the buzzer and when there still isn’t a click of her responding your chin trembles. Maybe you really did fuck it up that badly and there is no coming back from this. It was silly of you to think she’d ever forgive you, especially when she has Steve. You’re about to set the food down and buzz again to tell her you’ll leave when the front door opens.

“You’re lower actually.”

A sob leaves you as Robin stands in the doorway, arms crossed over her favorite Hawkins Band sweatshirt. The fuzzy lime green socks with banjos on them that you got her for her birthday on her feet.

You nod, swiping at your tears with a free hand. “You’re right. Lower than the fungus. I’m the pus that infects the mucus that cruds up the fungus that feeds on the pond scum.”

Robin’s lips twitch, but she rolls her eyes before they look at the ground. “Quoting Julia Roberts is really unfair. You know how much of a sucker I am for her. Cheap shot.”

A crack in the tightness in your chest starts to pry open as you whisper, “I almost bought roses and had this plan to blare classical music from my car but it broke down and…well, here I am anyways, asking for forgiveness and a chance to explain.”

She raises her eyebrows, waiting, and your chin trembles as your voice shakes, “Robin I’m sorry. I really didn’t mean to lie to you about it all for so long. And there were so many times I wanted to tell you. I was selfish and wrong and scared I would lose you - that you’d pick his side and shut me out - but I’m here trying now…please don’t hate me forever. And don’t hate Steve. He did nothing wrong. Or Nancy, or Eddie. It was all me and I’m so, so, so, sorry, please let me explain everything and give me another chance to be even half the amazing friend that you are.”

It’s silent, for what feels like forever, until her eyes meet yours. Shining from tears and her nose wiggles as she sniffles, “You were going to Pretty Woman me?”

You nod, tears roll down your cheeks and mingle with the rain that coats them.

Robin sighs, choking on her own tears as she laughs, “You just get me.”

She engulfs you in a hug and both of you cry into each other’s shoulders as she says, “I’m still mad you all lied. You’re not off the hook. I think giving me limitless veto power for movie nights is extremely fair and nonnegotiable.”

Your body feels lighter than it has in months as your arm tightens around her as you agree with a teary laugh, whispering another apology while silently vowing to never let her go. It doesn’t matter what happens next, because at least you have her, and you know you always will.

Robin trips on a heel as she emerges from her closet. Tilting your head at the dress she holds up, your nose scrunches as you shake your head no.

She sighs, throwing it on the no pile and groans, “Ugh! This is hopeless!”

As she flops onto her bed with a huff, you laugh and swap places with her, “No, no, come on. Tell me again.”

Robin sits up, staring at her dresser with a furrow forming under her bangs. “I want to look professional, put together, but not like it’s an interview, you know? I want them to take me seriously, but I want to look like me. Ergo, I am doomed.”

Your fingers trail over her clothes, eyes searching again after they roll. “Ergo, you’ve been facetiming Dustin too much.”

A black dress catches your eyes, velvet and cinched at the waist. Pulling it from her closet you hold it up. “What about this? I’ve never seen you wear it. Is it new?”

Her head tilts, “Huh. I forgot I bought that for…” she trails off and looks at you with a sad smile. “Right. Yeah, you don’t think it’s too low cut?”

You shake your head no, taking a deep breath at her change of subject, thoughts drifting to if she bought it for the wedding or something related to it. Maybe you could ask, but you’ve sort of had a non-verbal agreement to not discuss Steve the last month and it’s been working. After explaining everything to her, including how you felt about him getting married, your complicated feelings, it just felt easier to not discuss anything relating to him.

“Throw a nice necklace on, you’ll be perfect babe,” you make an a-okay symbol with your fingers, “The Wheeler’s aren’t gonna know what hit em.” You smile and look at the clock on her nightstand, handing the dress out to her, “Get to it though, or you’ll be late.”

Robin makes no move to get up, holding the dress in her hands and staring at it.

She shakes her head no. “I can’t do this.”

Sitting next to her, the bed bounces lightly and you grab her hand. “You absolutely can do this. It’s just meeting the parents and siblings, all of whom you’ve met already.”

“But not as her girlfriend. When I met them she wasn’t even out. What if they hate me? What if I spill something? What if I order the wrong wine?”

Laughing, you hold her panicking face in your hands, taking a deep breath to encourage her to do so too. “Robin. Breathe.”

She does, her exhale shaky and you smile, head tilting as you let her face go, fixing a curl you smooshed. “You really love her don’t you.”

It’s not a question, but Robin answers anyway. She nods vehemently, words tumbling out of her like she can’t help it. “God so much it’s scary. But also not? I want to spend every second with her. I want to tell her about every dumb little thought that pops into my head and I want to hear what she ate for lunch every day. I want to wake up and fall asleep next to her and that’s insane! How can you love a person like that so quickly? Like everything in your body is screaming for it? It’s…it’s that kind of love I’ve only heard about before? That kind of love…” she trails off, maroon polished fingers covering her smile before she keeps going, “It’s easier than breathing. It is breathing, you know?”

As she says the words that prick at something inside of you, prodding on thoughts you’d locked away, her skin pales, looking like she’s going to be sick. “Oh my god I really can’t do this. I can’t-”

“Robin. One step at a time. Change your outfit, you can do that right?”

She laughs, head falling to your shoulder, a sing-song lilt to her voice, “We’ve been here before.”

“Yeah and look at what happened.”

Robin sits up, biting her lip, nodding once and standing. “Right.”

As she changes, you assess her jewelry box. Your eyes roam over the mirror of her vanity, smiling at the pictures. You pause at the one of her and Steve that’s new to you. He has his tongue out, her arm around him and your fingers touch the corner, an ache in your chest wondering what they were doing and what stories they’ll have from the day.

“Have you talked to him?”

Her question startles you and your shoulders lift. Clearing your throat, you hold the necklace out to her. “No, um, I haven’t. He’s good?”

Robin starts to hook the necklace as she hums, “I think so. It’s hard to tell some days.” She hesitates, her face pinched into a familiar look to you, the one that looks like she’s physically holding words in, a true test for her. She bends down to buckle her heels as she asks, “Is it always going to be this way? Avoiding talking about each other? Seeing each other?”

“No, I don’t think so. I just need some time. I’ll be okay.” Shrugging with a smile, you grab your purse and coat.

Robin’s blue eyes sparkle under shimmering gold eyeshadow and she tilts her head, a smile forming on her lips as she nods, confident in her words, “You will be. One step at a time.”

“Cute,” you muse, and take a step back. You twirl your fingers for her to spin and she rolls her eyes but obliges. The black velvet dress cuts off at her calves, hugging her curves in a sexy but modest way and the gold pendant on her necklace matches the blocky old-fashioned heels. You yell out, “Ow-ow!”

Robin laughs, waving you off and grabs her phone. “Okay picture!”

“Ew, Robin no! You look so good and I am literally in my sweatshirt with the mustard stain on it.”

She shushes you, “Tough tater tots toots.”

She pulls you in as you laugh, both of you easily falling into a goofy pose as she snaps a selfie. She nods her approval and grabs her coat, “Oh yeah, that one’s definitely going on the board.” She clicks her phone closed and you both head towards the stairwell.

As you step out of her apartment building, Nancy is getting out of an Uber, an emerald peacoat wrapped around her and she stops, eyes only on Robin.

“Hi,” she whispers, smiling, “Wow. You’re so beautiful.”

Robin’s face turns as red as her nails and you duck your head. “Well, I think that’s my cue to leave. Have a good night,” you squeeze Nancy’s hand, “Tell your brother and El hey from me?”

She squeezes it back, confirming she will, and holds the door open for Robin, then jogs around to the other side and you have to smile at her lack of wanting to scoot across the seat or maybe it’s just her old fashioned, secret romantic side coming out.

As you start to walk away, you hear your name and spin back around, Robin is leaning out of the window, smiling wide as she asks, “Benny’s tomorrow? 10?”

“I expect a full report!” You cross your arms over your chest, fore and middle fingers crossed in a good luck to her that she mirrors as the car drives away.

The walk to the train from there is short, your car still out of commission, and you pop your airpods in, debating how your evening will go. Eddie is already home for Christmas with his uncle in Indiana, Robin and Nancy together tonight, and Steve…

Before them, an evening alone like this never would have bothered you. Eating what you wanted to eat, watching what you wanted to watch - you got good at being alone, enjoying it actually. Now, there’s a funny little feeling that pulls at a thread inside of you, trying to unravel the work you’ve done.

As you wait for the train, pulling your winter hat tighter over your ears, you watch a couple come up the stairs. They have shopping bags in their hands, dressed in warm, wool coats. Giggly, pink cheeks, gloved hands clinging to each other. They sit just down from where you stand against the railing when you get on, huddled together as they look at a map on his phone, and you wonder what their story is - where they were, where they’re going, and if they love each other. It seems like they do, and you wonder if it’s the kind of love Robin explained.

How can anyone love like that aside from fictional people in the movies? How can you love someone so deeply and intensely, without fear of it being ripped away?

But maybe people do fear it being ripped away, and they love regardless. Fear doesn’t make love disappear, it makes it stronger. Because what if that person is gone one day? What if you never told them how you felt? What if you never even got the chance to see if you could love like that? Isn’t it better to try than never know?

As you look out the train doors, the sky is turning a soft pink and purple. The sun is setting over the city in one of those perfect nights, slow, like each color being revealed is a purposeful brushstroke, hand painted. A sign.

Sunsets. Steve. A good song. Steve. Your friends. Steve. Your family. Steve.

Easier than breathing.

An undeniable, unavoidable, unforgiving wave of heartbreak rolls over you. But it’s not alone, it’s hope, it’s questions and answers, it’s relief and clarity and you know what you have to do.

You unlock your phone, a desperation and need to get all of it out now, fueling each press of your thumbs to the screen. Maybe the story is wrong, but you’re the main character, narrator, and author and you can change it if you just put in the work to do so. Tears begin to fall down your cheeks, and you let them, unashamed, finally free of the place you’ve kept them locked away. Pressing send on the message, you hold your breath, hoping she’s not already too preoccupied with Nancy.

The train doors open and you rush down the stairs. Each step slams against the sidewalk, sending shocks up your spine, cold air filling your lungs as each stride brings you closer to him, but not fast enough. You have to try to change the story, you have to tell him.

But when his location is just out of your reach, when you see him, you slow down.

Steve stands beneath the gold twinkling lightbulbs of the old brick theater, the white marquee sign displaying the title ‘When Harry Met Sally’. He has a black beanie on, hair sticking out and curling slightly. A dark gray peacoat flutters against the back of his thighs in the wind, open to reveal the yellow sweater he has on and your feet come to a skidding stop. His phone is pressed to his ear as he looks up from where he was scuffing his Nike against the sidewalk and makes eye contact with you.

Your heart beat has thoroughly been replaced again as your hands start to shake, each slow step to him stretched out and lingering, lasting for what feels like minutes instead of seconds.

What if. What if. What if.

The phone slips, hand falling to his side. His brows furrow just under his hat and you want to reach forward and brush the worry away with your thumb. His greeting leaves him quietly, a puff of his breath and the word floating in the air just a few feet from you.

“Hi.”

Gesturing with a trembling hand to the sign above that you can no longer see, fully under the gold lights, you blurt out, “Did you know that it came out in 89’? So technically it’s a bad 80s rom com. I was wrong.”

Steve shakes his head, the twinkle of the lights highlighting the brown in his eyes, warm and sweet and deeply confused as he starts, “What are you-”

“I was wrong about a lot of things, Steve. And I know I’m late in saying that. I know I’m late for a lot more, but I think it’s better to say it late, to say it now, than to never tell you and wonder for the rest of my life.”

Steve’s lips part, your name a whisper on them, but you take a deep inhale and prepare to get it all out fast and without fear of needing a breath akin to the way Robin speaks, just so you can leave yourself open and vulnerable despite knowing that it could, and most likely will, hurt.

“I’m sorry if Leigh is inside or she’s gonna be here soon, but I have to tell you. I…Steve I’m sorry. I wanted to be friends with benefits because I was selfish. You were right. I wanted it both ways. At first, you were just this guy who was hot and funny and knew what he was doing and I didn’t want to lose that. But then, then I got to know you and that’s when it got complicated, because I really didn’t want to lose you then.” You swallow as Steve freezes in front of you, no longer stepping towards you and his shoulders hunch like he’s holding his breath as you keep going.

“I wanted you, but I was scared to commit, scared that if I did commit, I’d lose you all anyways. And I still am scared. Terrified,” you laugh a little as tears start to roll down your cheeks, “But I think being scared is worth it if I’m doing it with you. Because…” Inhaling, you take a step closer as Steve blinks at you, willing the words to keep coming.

“Because I think we could be something special if we gave it a real chance. And I think that we can’t know what’s going to happen, maybe it all blows up in our faces, but at least we tried and we’ll know and we won’t spend our lives wondering what if.” Tears blur your vision as you leave it all out there, words that feel like they’ve wanted to tumble out of you forever just keep coming, faster and faster, your hands gesturing wildly with each one, stepping closer and closer to him.

“And I want to try so badly Steve. I want to hold your hand in public and go on dates and tease you and make memories with you and I think we could fall in love, I think I was already starting to. Like real love. Like that undeniable, scary, kind of love, and I’m sorry you’ll have to wait for me to get there to say it, but if you give it a chance…I think we’re worth the wait. I don’t care that I’m saying all of this too late, I don’t care that you’re getting married because at least I said it and if you wanna stand up there and say I do to her in May then that’s fine, I can move on, maybe, I think, because at least I’ll know I tried and-”

“Woah, woah, woah.”

Steve grabs your shaking hands, interrupting you. Cedar and mint hit your nose as you inhale, his cologne lingering on his scarf. His adam’s apple bobs as he swallows. One hand leaves yours, fingers curling under your chin as he murmurs, “I’m not getting married.”

“You’re…” you hiccup a laugh through your tears, “What?”

He tilts his head and clears his throat, repeating it as his thumb brushes a tear from your cheek, fingers squeezing your hand. “I’m not getting married.”

“You’re not getting married,” you repeat it again, quieter, letting the words sink in.

Steve shakes his head no, the back of his knuckles brushing more tears from your cheek as he lets out a shaky breath. “I called it off the day after…after everything.”

“Oh,” you swallow, eyes blinking up at him under wet lashes as the reality of the extremely vulnerable words you practically just shouted at him sit unreciprocated still, unable to be taken back.

Steve’s lips twitch on the right, like he’s fighting a smile, eyebrows furrowed deeper as he sighs, “Yeah. Quit my job too.”

“What? Steve, why, what-”

His fingers trace your jaw as he shakes his head again, rolling his eyes but the smile fighting on his lips wins. “This girl that drives me crazy basically quoted The Notebook scene at me and I decided I’d rather have the life I wanted, have her, or have nothing at all. But I didn’t think she felt the same way, and I wasn’t going to push her again.”

You smile, a laugh bubbling out of you as you shake your head, “You’re crazy about me?”

Steve laughs, his hat bumping yours as your foreheads touch. You drop his hand, both of yours pressing to the soft yellow material against his chest. His breath warm against your cheek as you ask, “So what happens now?”

He pulls away, forehead leaving yours and creating a small space between the two of you, you already want closed again. The lights make the green almost disappear from his eyes, golden, sunshine pulling you in and making you beg for more of it to light you up, a tether, your gravity, just like they’ve always been.

Steve clears his throat, hands reaching up to cup your cheeks, thumbs brushing over the apples of them as he declares, “Well, rule number one, we tell Robin.”

“Deal,” you tilt your head, playing his game. Your hands slowly crawl up his chest, wrapping around his neck, playing with the collar of the coat as you throw out, “Pet names?”

Steve nods dramatically, pinching his eyes closed, “Oh yeah. So many.” He leans in, nose tracing up the line of yours slowly, foreheads knocking together as the tips of your shoes meet. “I’m gonna call you babe and honey loudly at the grocery store for no reason other than I can.”

“Yeah?” Your top lip hits his with the lift of your smile and question.

He nods. “Yeah.”

Steve’s hands cup the back of your head, tilting you open for him as he ducks down, mouth hovering above yours as he speaks like you’re the only two people in the world.

“But right now? Right now I’m gonna kiss you.”

“Which bad 90s rom com you steal that one out of, Harrington?” You whisper against his lips.

Steve smiles, gaze tracing the curve of your lips then meeting yours as he takes a deep breath.

“You liked it.”

And maybe the marquee lights twinkle above you a little brighter as you finally meet in a kiss. Maybe snowflakes start drifting down from the clouds lazily, covering everything in a fresh start right at the moment his hands wrap around your waist and pull you impossibly closer, your back arching from the passion of his kiss. Maybe a terrible top forty song blares out of someone’s car as it drives past, your foot popping off the pavement a little when he pulls away for a breath only to lean and kiss you deeper and slower.

The universe can’t guarantee anything for you and Steve, but it is giving you a chance. There is nothing, not even love, that can keep away the inevitable struggle, heartbreak, or loss life will be sure to throw at you. Which is scary, but doing it together, his hand in yours, makes it less so. Yes, it won’t always be easy, but the hard work you’ll both put in when it isn’t, means it’s real. There is no one other than yourselves who can decide if your relationship could be like the movies. The two of you are the only ones that can calculate if there’s still time for a happy ending in your story. Only Steve and you can be certain that the fear of heartbreak or pain is worth taking the risk, because if you don’t, if you let the chance slip away, you’ll never know if one day you could have called it love.

WCIL Taglist: @loveshotzz @myobmaya @sweetsweetjellybean @pastel-pillows @littlesubbyflower @johnricharddeacy @freezaz123 @selfdeprecatingnerd @big-ope-vibes @manda-panda-monium @hellkaisersangel @yogizzz @soulmatecashton @happytimeunicorns @mandyjo8719 @lunarxeclipse @buckleylips @beckkthewreck @differentdeputyfishpaper @supardupar @micheledawn1975 @imjuststeddietrashatthispoint @sagelittleplace @totally-bogus-timelady @steves-babysitter @fallinginlovewithqueue @aftermidnightwriting @omgshesinsane @pootcullen @definitionwanderlust @nostalgiafool @palmtreesx3 @scoopshxrrington @live-the-fangirl-life @eddiesguitarskills @mannstarkey @keepingitlokiii @silkholland @redbarn1995

#we'll call it love #modern!steve harrington #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington series #steve harrinton fic #stranger things fanfic

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reidshearts · 5 months

Text

new roomie?

pairing: steve harrington x fem!henderson reader

content: swearing, mentions of drugs, idiot steve

y/n henderson had always envies her younger brother. I mean come on, how had Dustin Henderson manage to gain five more friends than her. the only friend y/n had was the infamous willow roth, ex-cheerleader at hawkins high and your current roommate at college. they had been strangers before bumping into each other at a fresher's week party, coincidently studying the same subject; law.

you two became best friends and lived in the same flat until willow got suspended for multiple instances of being caught with weed on the campus along with other drugs, however with a record as clean as her's and straight grades she got lucky and no law enforcements were called.

"do your seriously have to leave!", you exclaimed, laying on your back on the bed with your head dangling off "- i mean it wasn't that bad...right will?"

your best friends mouth curled into a smile as she witnessed your antics, "it was going to happen eventually y/n, anyways robin was telling me about this hot new guy who joined, something about going to high school with him back in Hawkins". now this caught your attention as you roll off the bed with a thud onto your stomach.

"first of all ouch and secondly you say that as if im obsessed and fall in love with every guy i see!" you huff, sitting up against your bed, earning a look of disbelief from willow.

"alright fine! how hot on a scale of ten? also what subject is he taking? does he have a girlfriend because that is the biggest question i need to know-"

"-slow down y/n/n ! and to answer your questions, ten out of ten, i think some sports or doctor related thing, and i dont know ask robin when you next see her! anyways shouldn't you start cleaning the flat since your new roomie should be arriving in 20 minutes?!" replies willow with a hand on her hip.

"jeez okay mum!", reluctantly standing from your position on the floor to fling yourself into willows arms "but first a goodbye hug!!"

after 10 more minutes of goodbyes with lots of tears and laughing, you began the cleaning which didn't take too long seeing as all the rooms were tiny! while wiping the counters in the kitchen you heard the jingle of keys and the opening of the front door, so you threw the cloth in the sink and flattened out your skirt before making your way into the view of the door.

you slightly flinch as the door slammed against the wall behind it as her new roommate came into view lugging suitcases and a backpack inside, looking up at the stranger before you, you struggled to get the words out.

My gods he was pretty, mousy brunette hair with lighter brown highlights were illuminated from the sun streaming through the kitchen blinds. you didn't know whether it was from the heat or if he was naturally glowing that caused your eyes to widen as you shamelessly checked him out. clearing your throat you draw your eyes away and caught yourself from where they were to soon follow his torso down lower and smile back up at him.

"y/n", you exclaimed loudly before clearing your throat and beginning again , "Sorry hi I'm y/n henderson!"

Shaking his head at the abruptness as he takes his turn to admire you and he smiles widely before if falls with shock and confusion after processing what you had just said, "Henderson? shit"

He can not be falling for dustin's sister!

#steve harrinton fic #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington x reader #steveharrington imagine #steve harrington #steve harrington smut #dustin henderson #stranger things imagine #stranger things au #stranger things x reader #steve harrington x yn #steve harrington x you #steve harrington au

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hopelessrromantix · 2 years

Text

my 2022 kinktober/kinkember masterlist

main masterlist

➳ day one first time | frottage Steve Harrington

➳ day two degradation | marking Jason Carver

➳ day three cockwarming | thigh riding Chamber

➳ day four bondage | praise Johnathan Byers

➳ day five somnophilia | cock worship Billy Hargrove

➳ day six edging | dumbification Billy Hargrove

➳ day seven + eight hate sex + facefucking | overstimulation + exhibitionism Yoru

➳ day nine dacryphilia | photos/video Camboy!Billy Hargrove

➳ day ten corruption | face sitting Eddie Munson + Steve Harrington

➳ day eleven size kink | choking Atsushi Nakajima

➳ day twelve solo masturbation | spanking Eddie Munson

➳ day thirteen phone sex | massage Eddie Munson + Steve Harrington

➳ day fourteen lingerie | body worship MK System

➳ day fifteen collars | orgasm denial Bakugou Katsuki

➳ day sixteen daddy kink | facial Eddie Munson

➳day seventeen shower sex | deep throating Steven Grant

➳day eighteen mirror sex | rimming MK System

➳day nineteen aftercare | knife play Billy Hargrove

➳day twenty double penetration | breeding Steve Harrington

➳day twenty-one role play | toys Billy Loomis + Stu Macher

➳day twenty-two cuckolding | food play Eddie Munson + Steve Harrington

➳day twenty-three fingering | monster fucking Newt Scamander

➳day twenty-four aphrodisiac | sounding Steve Harrington

➳day twenty-five bulge | blood kink Eddie Munson

➳day twenty-seven gloryhole | mutual masturbation Billy Hargrove

➳day twenty-six power imbalance | cum inflation Billy Hargrove

➳day twenty-eight creampie | wax play Draco Malfoy

➳day twenty-nine ice play | sadism/masochism Billy Hargrove

➳day thirty costumes/uniform | cum play Steve Harrington

➳day thirty-one free choice! | feminization/crossdressing Steve Harrington

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moonstruckme · 1 year

Note

Steve x Wednesday!reader and the gang really didn’t expect Steve to end up w someone so different from all his exs but also low-key think she’s way out of his league??? Found your fics and your writing is sick 😋😋😋😋

Thanks for your request sweetheart! I haven't written wednesday!reader before so idk if this was too much? Or too little? Anyway, I hope you like it, mwah <3

Steve Harrington x Wednesday!reader ♡ 698 words

You hadn't been at all nervous to meet Steve's friends. Really, they probably should have been more nervous about meeting you.

You could be a bit off-putting at first, with your impassive stare and clipped, to-the-point manner of speaking. The few other girlfriends Steve had introduced to his friends had greeted them with smiles and nervous laughter, and Steve had caught Dustin and Mike whispering about just that when you'd gone to the bathroom.

Overall, though, Steve thinks this is going pretty well. Nancy had liked your giant combat boots, Eddie loved that you had the same taste in music, and when the kids found out how much you knew about mages and battle strategy, they'd grilled you for a solid twenty minutes before Steve had called them off, complaining that he was going to dream about their nerd jargon that night if they didn't shut up.

Now, Eddie and the boys are discussing the edition of their nerd game they'll be playing next week (how it even changes from week to week, Steve can never figure out), and you seem to be listening with mild interest when you turn towards him suddenly.

"I have to go home," you say, in your matter-of-fact way. "I left a potion on the stove, and its six hours are almost up."

Steve blinks at you. He should be used to this by now, but sometimes your hobbies still take him by surprise. "Alright," he says after a moment. "What's the potion for?"

Impossibly, your expression darkens. "Something ate my venus fly traps, and I intend to find out what."

Steve declines to ask what you plan to do when you do find them, or how whatever you're brewing will accomplish that. "Okay," he stands, looking for where he left his keys. "I'll drive."

"No, you can stay," you say, as if it makes no difference to you. "I want to cut through the woods to find some belladonna on my way."

He's not going to ask what you want with the poisonous berries, either. "You sure, honey?" You nod, and Steve sits back down. He knows better than to bother arguing with you once you've made up your mind. "Okay, be safe, alright? Text me when you're home."

He tilts his chin up, and you lean down to peck him on the lips, a brief, chaste thing compared to what you prefer behind closed doors.

"Bye, Y/N!" Eddie calls, and a chorus of goodbyes follow you out. As soon as the door closes behind you, every eye in the room turns on Steve.

"Steve, what the hell? She's so cool." Dustin says, sounding almost shocked.

"Yeah," Eddie chimes in. "Where the hell have you been hiding her, Harrington?"

Steve grins proudly. He known they liked you, but it doesn't hurt to hear it out loud. "Yeah?"

"Um, yeah," Max says. "She's hilarious."

Robin nods enthusiastically. "She is! She's so funny, and smart, too. Honestly, Steve, it's a good thing you're nice, because she's, like, way out of your league."

Steve blinks. Okay, ouch. This compliment session seems to be taking an unexpected turn. Up until today, no one was out of Steve Harrington's league. "You really think so?"

"Duh." Robin looks around for support, but only Dustin is nodding, everyone else having fallen unusually silent. "Oh, you guys are cowards. She's gorgeous."

"I know that," Steve says defensively.

"She does have better hair than you," Nancy says, somewhat apologetically, "and that's kind of your thing, so."

Steve blows out an exasperated breath, slouching back in his seat. He thinks you have better hair than him, but he didn't know everyone else would think that. And of course you're far too good for him, but aren't these supposed to be his friends? Any modicum of loyalty they'd had between them seems to have vanished.

"Whatever," Steve says. "You guys are just jealous."

Eddie sighs, his eyes sparkling with exaggerated infatuation. "I know I am. Don't let her get away from you, Harrington, or I might take her for myself."

Steve rolls his eyes. As if he'd be dumb enough to let that happen. He's happy to be your charity case forever.

#steve harrington #steve harringon x reader #steve harrington x wednesday!reader #steve harrinton x fem!reader #stranger things

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reareaotaku · 6 months

Text

Mean Little Boy

Summary: Steve has always been an asshole and you find it hard to believe that he's changed Pairings: Steve Harrington x Reader Tw: [Ex] Bully Steve, puking Steve Harrington works Taglist: N/a

Steve frowned at your obvious displeasure at being alone with him. He wanted to be angry, but he knew why you didn't like him. He had been a jerk and a bully. Though, with this came an anger from him to prove you wrong. He wanted to prove to you he had changed and he's much nicer now.

You look towards the top of the toilet, not enjoying that Steve was the one helping you as you were puking out your guts.

"Are you okay?"

You let out a huff, rolling your eyes, "What do you think?"

Steve groans, looking away from you. He wanted you to like him so bad, but you seemed to be really adamant bout your position on him.

"You know... I've changed."

"So, I've been told."

"Yeah?"

"It's all Dustin can talk about. God, it's so annoying. Just know, I know who you are. I know what you are. I will always know."

He frowns as you glare at him from the side. "I've changed, Y/n."

"Yeah, that's what they all say." You grab some toilet paper and wipe the edges of your mouth, before flushing the toilet and leaving Steve alone.

----

You hated the rain. You hated the feeling of the dirty water weighing down your clothes or the feeling of hir sticking to your face. But... it could also be nice. Water was beautiful- The way it flowed of flowers and such.

Though right now you wished the clouds would disappear and you could walk home without being soaking wet. You had forgotten your umbrella at Steve's house and there was no way you were going back. But speak of the devil and he shall appear.

Bright lights shinned in your path and you could a car pulling up beside you. You were hoping if you ignore it, it would go away. But then there was a shout.

You looked towards the car, the familiar BMW, to see-

"Dustin?"

"Hey, Y/n! Get in."

You frowned, looking ahead of you, but you couldn't see much because of the rain. You looked back at Dustin, to now see Steve looking over Dustin. You sigh, but ultimately walk to the car and get in.

"Why are you walking in this weather, Y/n?"

"Had to get home..." You look out the window, not paying them much attention. That was until Steve spoke to you.

"I'm going to drop Dustin off first and then I'll take you home, Y/n."

"Yeah. Cool."

You hear him sigh, but he doesn't say anything more.

---

Steve pulls up to your house, pulling his gear stick. Before you can leave he grabs your arm. You look back at him, confused. He looks at you in a pleading way, before he speaks.

"Y/n."

"Steve."

"I really mean it when I say I've changed."

"Yeah, you keep saying that. Words don't mean anything, Steve. You should know that."

"Right..."

"Goodbye Steve."

"Goodbye Y/n."

#yandere x reader #yandere steve x reader #yandere steve harrington #steve harrington imagines #steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #stranger things x reader #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things #yandere steve harrinton x reader #stranger things fanfic

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chloe-skywalker · 9 months

Text

No Plans - Billy Hargrove (3/3)

Part #3 (3/3)

Billy x Fem!Reader Harrington

Steve x Fel!Sister!Reader

Warnings: Stranger Things, none

Word count: 1,787

Summary: Now that the Christmas Eve at the Mayfield/Hargrove home obligation was fulfilled, it’s time for Billy to experience Christmas at the Harringtons.

Authors Note: Finale part 3! Here it is everyone! Enjoy! Merry Christmas & Happy Holiday’s!

Masterlist

Stranger Things Masterlist

Holiday Masterlist

Part 1 (2021) ~ Part 2 (2022)

^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^

“What are you doing?” Y/n asked Billy as he took a pillow and blanket off of her bed and set them up on the floor in a makeshift bed.

“Anyone could walk in-” Billy started to answer, gesturing to the door. Billy normally would sleep in the bed with Y/n. But with how many people were staying in the house he didn’t want to set a bad example for himself to her family. But Y/n stopped him.

“Stop, Billy. You are sleeping in my bed with me. That's finale. Just keep your clothes on and if someone comes in we’ll be good.” Y/n stated picking up the blanket and pillow off the floor shaking them out and placing them back on the bed, before she got undressed to put on her pj’s.

“Just don’t want to make a bad impression.” Billy told her, watching the door apprehensively.

“Billy, why do you care what my family thinks of you so much?” Y/n asked him sitting on her bed watching him change into his own pj’s. Great view Y/n thought in her head.

“I don’t plan on letting you go so it’d be nice if your family liked me.” Billy stated moving onto the bed sitting next to her. He never cared about what parent’s thought of him before now. There was more at stake with y/n in Billys mind.

Y/n hated how he felt the need to get her parents approval. She means sure if he were to act like the Billy around town then they’d probably hate him, but she hated how he felt he needed to be not himself to impress her family.

Y/n sighed reaching out to hold his hands in hers before explaining something she felt was very important for him to hear. “Oh Billy. You don’t have to do that. I don’t care if they like you, because I don't care what they think. I’m glad you're here because it’ll make this holiday bearable. My parents like you Billy and it drives my brother nut’s. Normally our parents are always gone so we celebrate by ourselves Steve and me. Sometimes we invite friends over to celebrate with us. Like the kids Max hangs out with, Nancy, Robin, Johnathan, I could go on. That’s honestly the way I prefer it. Just Steve, me and the people we consider family. Like you.”

The only person Y/n wished liked Billy was her brother, but she knew there were a lot of reasons on both sides why they didn’t get along.

“Why are they here hosting them?” He asked her with an inquisitive look. He was confused if they were never really around. Why were they hosting all their family this christmas?

“It’s their turn this year. Trust me they weren’t happy about it.” Y/n let out a sarcastic laugh remembering how upset her parents were to have to cancel their vacation plans. Y/n snuggled up into Billys side as they repositioned themselves to lay down under her covers getting ready to sleep. “I’m just glad you're here. I couldn’t imagine doing this without you.”

Billy pulled her as close as she could possibly be to him, kissing the top of her head. “I’m not leaving. Promise.”

^ ^ ^

“Y/n! Y/n! Y/n!” The kids came barging into her bedroom screaming her name. Effectively waking her and Billy out of their peaceful sleep.

“Hmmmm, what?” Y/n asked in a very tired, sleepy voice opening her eyes to look at them.

“Come on, get up! Santa came!” They grabbed her shoulder, shaking her whole body.

“Well, how about you go wake your parent’s up and we’ll meet you there.” Y/n suggested and the kids left to do as Y/n said.

“Are they always that loud?” Billy groaned, turning on his side facing her.

“No, they're just excited.” She shook her head smiling at him.

“Where are you going?” Billy pulled her back down to the bed before she could get up, wrapping her arms tightly around her pulling her back into his chest.

“If we don’t get up they’ll come back.” Y/n laughed, smiling at how sweet his actions were, loving how clingy he always was in the morning.

“They wake you to?” Steve asked from the doorway rubbing his eyes and yawning.

“Yup.” Y/n smiled over at her brother, craning her neck to do so.

“Hey, can I have a moment with Hargrove here?” Steve asked once Y/n and Billy had gotten up and were heading out of Y/n’s room. “Uh, sure. I’ll go downstairs. Start helping with breakfast.” Y/n looked between her brother and boyfriend unsure if this was a good idea to leave them alone. But Billy gave her a nod singling it would be okay.

“What do you want, Harrington?” Billy asked once Y/n’s footsteps could be heard going down the stairs.

“Just wanted to say thanks. For taking care of my sister yesterday. Max says that Neil is an ass so. . .” Steve looked to Billy hoping he didn’t want to fight Steve was done fighting with him. And he never won anyways. But he really just wanted to talk.

“I wouldn’t let anything happen to her.” Billy clenched and unclenched his fist resisting the urge to punch him for even insinuating that he would let his father lay a hand on Y/n.

“I appreciate that. Look, can we just call a truce? At least for today if not for good. For Y/n.” Steve nodded with an appreciative look, he could see it in the dirty blonde. He truly cared about his sister and that took awhile to sink in. But it had now and Steve didn’t want to cause an eventual rift between him and his sister.

“For Y/n.” Billy agreed to Steve’s idea, it was time they got along for Y/n. BIlly didn’t plan on leaving her so he and Steve needed to bury the hatchet. “I’m sorry. For everything.”

“Did you just-’

“Not happening ever again so take it and move on.” Billy didn’t apologize often. So Steve needed to just leave it and move on. Take the apology and never mention it again.

The two nodded and headed down stairs to join everyone else.

“Hey, breakfast is ready.” Y/n greeted the boy’s as they entered the kitchen. Y/n had put some bacon on her’s and their plates along with cinnamon rolls. Cinnamon rolls were Steve and y/n’s tradition for breakfast on holiday’s.

“Thanks, sis.” Steve took his plate from her outstretched hand.

“Thanks.” Billy grabbed the other plate from her.

“Everything okay?” Y/n asked as surprisingly of what they could have talked about as they went to sit down.

“Everything's fine. More than.” Billy leaned over and kissed her on the lips before digging into his plate.

After breakfast everyone opened presents after opening present’s everyone slowly got dressed. Y/n and Billy headed up to her room to get dressed themselves.

“Hey, I still have that gift for you.” Billy spoke up once the door was shut to Y/n’s room.

“Billy-”

“You got me gifts. I’m allowed to give you them as well.” Billy really loved the gifts she had gotten and he was excited to see her open his gift.

“Oh, Billy. It’s beautiful.” Y/n was stunned at the gift. It was a matching necklace and ring. On the back of the necklace and inside the ring were her’s and Billy’s entails.

“I figured if you couldn’t wear one you could wear the other.” He explained to her, he knew she didn’t always wear necklaces but she always had a ring on or one or the other.

“I love them. Thank you.” Y/n smiled up at him before turning around to have him help her put on the necklace as she slid the ring on.

“I was hoping you would.” Billy grinned happily and relieved that she loved them.

“Can I ask you something?” Y/n turned to face him.

“Yeah.” He nodded.

“Why are you and my brother getting along? Hell your acting like friends. I’m not upset by it, I’m actually kind of happy about it, but it’s also kind of freaking me out. You hated each other just yesterday.” Y/n moved to sit back on her bed hoping to get an answer about earlier. It’s making Y/n feel a little crazy watching them get along. She loved it but it was odd.

“We called a truce.” Billy told her with a shrug.

“Why?” Y/n tilted her head confused.

“Why do you think?” He teased asking her with a knowing look in his eyes.

“Me?” She furrowed her brows and her eyes widened. Y/n was confused at their timing if that was the case. “Why now?”

“I think he might have realized I’m not going anywhere and I’m not using you.” Billy told her moving to stand between her legs. He hated that at first y/n and Steve thought he was trying to use her. Sure he flirted with her just to piss Steve off. But he never planned on using Y/n. This was the longest relationship Billy has ever had.

“Thank you.” Y/n smiled at him gratefully knowing it couldn’t have been easy to do that for her.

“Anything for you.” He whispered against her lips before pulling her into a kiss which in the process ended up with them falling back onto her bed, with Billy hovering over her.

“Let’s get dressed and head back down.” Y/n suggest once they broke apart as she ran her hand’s up and down his biceps.

After they got dressed and went back down stairs the day continued and they played games and just hung out with the family. Steve and Billy acted like friends the rest of the day, but if you asked Y/n she watched them actually get along and share things in common. Y/n didn’t think they were doing much acting at all.

The day went by fast and everyone sat down in the family room to eat dinner. After that Billy and Y/n headed up to her room for some quiet time.

“Did you have fun?” Y/n questioned hoping he did, it seemed like he had.

“Yeah, I did.” Billy smiled a guinea smile at her he reached up to run a hand through her hair.

“It was a fun first Christmas together.’ Y/n hinted hoping he got that she wanted to spend more Christmas’ together.

“One one many to come.” BIlly smirked, enjoying the thought of her words.

Taglist:

@padawancat97 @gruffle1 @starkleila @fandom-princess-forevermore @cherriebat @shadowmoonlight0604

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radiosteve · 9 months

Text

Casual

Summary: When did being friends with benefits with Steve Harrington get so complicated? Probably when your "no strings attached" relationship suddenly had strings.

Note: Loosely based on the song Casual by Chappell Roan. I slowly wrote this over the past month or so which is why it took so long. I hope you enjoy!

Warnings: 18+, No use of y/n, language, friends with benefits to lovers, smut, unprotected sex, oral (female receiving), angst, jealousy.

Pairings: Steve Harrington x reader

Word count: 11.3k+

Knee deep in the passenger seat

The buzz of the evening air filled the car, prickling your skin with each passing second. Or maybe that was the A/C that Steve had on full blast, cooling the cramped car to an uncomfortable degree. Without a second thought, you reached forward, fingers finding the dial that would alleviate the shivers raking your body. But Steve’s hand shot out, swatting away your futile attempts to not freeze to death in the passenger seat.

“What the hell, Steve?” you shot him a glare, crossing your arms over your chest and unknowingly pushing up your breasts in the process, drawing Steve’s not-so-subtle gaze. In all honesty, Steve was cold too. Sure, it was summer in Hawkins and the sweltering heat and humidity bogged down the heavy air, but his car was a cool 66°F.

“I’m sweating over here, sweetheart,” Steve shrugged, placing his hand back on the steering wheel. He was lying of course, but he couldn’t tell you that he wanted the A/C on so he could continue to catch glimpses of your pebbled nipples poking against the thin fabric of your tank top. He especially couldn’t say that because Eddie and Robin were in the backseat, a fact he had entirely forgotten until their muffled conversation rose dramatically in volume.

“And then they found that old guy’s fucking bones,” Eddie practically shouted with excitement, and your brow furrowed. Robin echoed Eddie’s statement, sharing the same elation regarding their conversation topic, which only confused you more. You turned in your seat, curious to know what the hell you had missed between them during your battle with Steve and the air conditioner. But then the car jerked to the left entering Forest Hills trailer park, and you knew you’d never find out.

The car halted in front of Eddie’s trailer, causing your body to jerk forward at the sudden stop. You let out a groan in response and were met with Steve’s cruel cackle. Meanwhile, Eddie tumbled out of the backseat into his front lawn and Robin followed suit on the other side.

“Wait, Rob,” you called, quickly rolling your window down so she could actually hear you. “I thought we were dropping you off?”

“Change of plans. I promised Max that we’d go through her comic collection so I’m just gonna crash at her place tonight,” Robin pointed over her shoulder and you spotted the mess of fiery red hair watching from the window. You nodded and exchanged a quick goodbye as Robin strolled over to Max’s front door. You watched her retreating figure, but it was soon blocked by Eddie ripping the passenger door open and hastily grabbing your cheek before placing a sloppy kiss on the corner of your mouth.

“Dude,” you wiped your lips with the back of your hand, trying to rid yourself of any trace of Eddie’s saliva. Eddie’s eyes flickered over your shoulder to land on Steve. He watched the fire ignite in Steve’s eyes, the flames encasing his pupils at the stretch of Eddie’s smirk.

“C’mon, princess. You know you want me,” Eddie winked at you and you pushed him away from the car with a laugh. He stumbled back a few steps, regaining his balance as you pulled the car door shut.

“In your dreams, Munson,” you shot him a smile as Steve began driving off, leaving Eddie to watch as the car pulled away. He stood content, knowing he’d accomplished his mission to rile Steve up. You rolled up the window and turned to Steve, expecting his expression to reflect the amusement you felt as a result of Eddie’s antics.

But Steve, ever so unpredictable, had never been one to conform to your expectations before. His face appeared hardened, like it was set in stone as his white knuckles gripped the steering wheel tightly. He kept his gaze on the road as if he was incapable of looking elsewhere, particularly at you.

The silence grew heavy within the car, only elevating the tension that blossomed seemingly out of nowhere. Steve was driving too fast and you wanted to tell him to slow down but he spoke before you could.

“You like it when Munson kisses you?” his tone was harsh and cold like you were his worst enemy rather than his friend of many years. But you’d known Steve long enough to understand where this was coming from. He was jealous, though he’d never ever admit it, not to himself and most certainly not to you. Despite his insistence to keep things casual between you and him, he was quite good at blurring the line.

“Steve, I’d hardly call that a kiss,” you scoffed, already knowing that this was an argument in the making. Steve was silent, knots forming in his tensed shoulders as he continued driving. “And what does it matter? You made out with Stacy Townsend last week. It's not like we're dating, Steve,” you huffed and the car quickly turned off the main road into a shaded grove, away from any prying eyes.

Steve practically threw the car in park and unbuckled his seatbelt so quickly you could’ve gotten whiplash. He exited the car, rounding the back and appearing at your door before you could even turn in your seat to track his motion. Steve tore the door open, leaning down and reaching between your legs. Your breath stopped at the feeling of his arm brushing against your thighs, but you quickly realized he was simply adjusting the seat to push it all the way back.

“What are you-” you began but quickly stopped as Steve occupied the space in front of you. His knees rested on the carpeted floor of his car as his back brushed against the glove box. There was enough room for him to comfortably rest between your open legs as he swung the door shut, trapping you in the confines of his presence.

“Is he a good kisser?” Steve asked, the traces of jealousy still ever so present in his tone, but there was something else too. Something deeper and more lustful that almost helped to outweigh the annoyance you felt in the moments prior. You knew to play along, follow Steve’s prompts, and adapt to the scenario.

“He’s pretty good, Stevie. Might want to kiss him again,” you let out a breath that you didn’t know you were holding and you watched Steve’s gaze trace over you. He once again found the outline of your peaked nipples, teasing him in the car’s cool atmosphere. Steve couldn’t help himself, letting his fingers trail up your chest, tracing over your nipples once he finally reached them.

“Is he better than me?” Steve asked, relishing in the soft sign that escaped you at the brush of his fingers over your clothed skin. He knew your body like the back of his hand at this point, giving him some control over you.

“He might be,” you refused to give in, knowing Steve would give you what you want regardless. But Steve understood you in the same way that you did him, and he expected that you’d play hard to get, which only made it more fun for him. One of his hands dropped, reaching for the hem of your tank top and pulling it up above your breasts, leaving them on display for him.

Steve resumed his teasing to your left nipple, gently circling it with his thumb. He leaned in slowly, keeping his eyes locked with yours as his lips met your breast, placing slow open-mouthed kisses on your soft flesh. After leaving a few marks he brought his mouth to your nipple, gently pecking it with his soft lips before placing a bruising kiss on it in a way that made you gasp in pleasure.

“Fuck,” you moaned as Steve’s teeth grazed your sensitive skin. His eyes never left yours, drinking in the sight of you slowly unraveling at the feel of his lips. Steve trailed his kisses lower, expanding over your torso and down to the waistband of your skirt.

His hands caressed your thighs, parting them even wider than before while he hiked your skirt up your hips. The lace of your panties now sat exposed to Steve as his hungry eyes roamed over the fabric.

“Maybe I shouldn’t,” Steve spoke with a smirk, his breath fanning over your lap, warming your cunt in a way that made you squirm. “Just leave that for Munson since he’s such a better kisser,” confidence and cockiness dripped from Steve’s voice like honey. He moved to pull your skirt back down, anticipating your pleas to continue. Luckily for him, you conceded.

“No, Steve. Please,” you begged, hand shooting out to stop him. And that was all he needed before he was pulling your panties from your legs and tossing them somewhere in the backseat. You were sure you’d never see them again. Steve placed a gentle kiss on your clit before licking your entrance to make you squirm. As if it were pure instinct, your hand shot out, gripping the soft locks of Steve’s hair.

That motivated him to really dive in, being more purposeful in the swipe of his tongue through your folds. Steve relished in the sound of your moans, the way your hips slid against the seat to meet his mouth, and how you threw your head back when his nose nudged your clit. Quite frankly, Steve had never been a big fan of eating girls out until he started hooking up with you. There was something about the way you reacted to the flick of his tongue that ended in him cumming in his pants on more than one occasion.

“So close, Stevie,” the breathy tone of your voice encouraged Steve further as he abandoned your entrance. His lips attached firmly to your clit, letting his teeth graze your sensitive bud as he sucked on it. Your chest was heaving at that point, tits jiggling with each heaving breath, and the sight had Steve palming himself through his jean shorts. And suddenly it was all too much for you as Steve’s tongue flicked wildly over your clit.

Your thighs shook around Steve’s head while your fingers dug deep into his scalp and you came undone. Steve lapped at your entrance, licking up every last bit of your slick before finally pulling back with a labored breath. He leaned up on his knees, admiring how fucked out you looked. It was his favorite way to see you. Steve placed a fervent kiss on your lips, encapsulating all of the passion that flowed through you both at that moment.

“So who’s the better kisser now?” Steve whispered against your lips as a smirk tugged the corners of his mouth. You scoffed, pushing him gently away from you and pulling your skirt back down. It was impossible to keep the smile from your lips though, especially when Steve got up from the footwell of the car and you saw the wet spot on the crotch of his shorts.

He got back in the driver’s seat and brought the car back to life. This time you welcomed the harsh blast of the A/C given the sticky heat between your legs and the warm air that now filled the fogged-up car. Steve drove you home, stopping in front of your driveway to let you out. He placed a quick peck on your lips before letting you out, leaving you to walk back to your front door. You stopped just before the entrance, turning to get one last look at the maroon BMW before disappearing into your house. The taste of yourself and Steve’s arrogance still lingered on the tip of your tongue as you watched him drive off into the dark summer night.

You said “Baby, no attachment”

“Jesus, this place is packed,” Eddie spoke beside you, his grip tight on his black lunch box. He’d dragged you to some house party so he could have company while he dealt. But you’d tagged along with Eddie to one too many parties to know that he’d soon disappear behind a wall of letterman jackets that he’d overcharged for weed simply because he could. You only agreed to go because of the promise of free booze.

“I’m gonna get a drink,” you shouted over the blaring music that ricocheted off the walls in the crowded living room. Eddie nodded, already being pulled away by someone looking to buy from him. You struggled your way through the sea of people to the closed-off kitchen, settling on whatever liquor you deemed the strongest. It was then that you saw him. Steve’s perfectly styled hair framed his face as he leaned down to whisper something into the ear of some very tipsy blonde across the room.

“Figures,” you scoffed under your breath, tilting your cup to your lips and ingesting its bitter contents. Steve hadn’t told you he was coming to the party, likely because he was determined to find a one-night stand or come crawling to you if he struck out. It wouldn’t be the first time.

You refilled your now empty cup before departing the kitchen and shimming your way onto the makeshift dance floor in the living room. A slight buzz already consumed you, diminishing any worried thoughts, particularly about a certain brown-haired boy.

Someone in a letterman jacket approached you, matching your movements with a shy smile. His name was Marcus, one of the nicer basketball players from your graduating class. Letting the alcohol control you, you threw your arms over his shoulders, careful not to spill your drink. You pulled him close, pressing yourself flush against him and moving to the beat of the music. Marcus was cute, flushed red as his hands snaked around to land on your hips.

As you got lost in the ocean blue of Marcus’s eyes, you remained oblivious to the sudden drawl of Steve’s attention as he stumbled into the room. Steve’s stare lingered over your figure, the press of your breasts against Marcus’s chest, the trail of his fingers as they inched towards the hem of your skirt. Steve couldn't tear his eyes away from you, brushing off whatever girl he’d been trying to bed and stalking in your direction.

Marcus’s lips hovered over yours, tempting you with each passing breath. Finally, sick of the teasing, you used your free hand to pull his neck down, effectively closing the gap. He tasted like bubblegum and Coca-Cola, and it became clear to you then that he hadn’t been drinking. You weren’t some drunken conquest to him, just a girl he wanted to dance with.

You pulled back at the revelation, feeling a little guilty for assuming all the boy in front of you wanted was a drunken hookup. But you didn’t have much time to think about it because Steve came barreling over from across the room.

“Marcus,” he spoke simply, eyeing the boy up and down. They had been teammates at one point, but now in Steve’s mind, they were mortal enemies. He wasn’t sure why he felt so jealous considering he’s the one who insisted on being friends with benefits and nothing more. But there was no time to dwell on that.

“Hi, Steve. How have you been?” Marcus asked genuinely, seemingly unaware of the growing tension between the three of you. You stood like a deer in headlights, watching and waiting for the tornado to touch down, the hurricane to make landfall, Steve to do something stupid.

“I’m doing great. Mind if I borrow her?” Steve brushed off Marcus’s attempts at friendly conversation, gesturing to you and grabbing ahold of your arm to drag you away before Marcus could even answer. It wasn’t exactly the stupid gesture you thought it would be, more like fists thrown and punches landed, but it still annoyed you just as much.

“What the hell are you doing?” you finally wiggled out of Steve’s grasp as he took you out the front door. You set down the cup that had previously occupied your hand before whipping around angrily to meet Steve’s gaze.

“I could ask you the same thing,” Steve crossed his arms over his chest, staring you down as if he were a parent scolding his disobedient child.

“It’s a party, Steve. I’m partying,” you rolled your eyes, your voice deadpan as the heat of your rage mixed with the hot summer air. Steve scoffed, moving across the front porch to stand in front of you.

“You know what I mean, sweetheart. What were you doing with Marcus?” Steve’s breath fanned your face, doing nothing to help cool you in your overheated state.

“Whatever I want. You and I aren’t dating, remember?” you gestured between the two of you. Suddenly you felt like you’d been backed into a corner. Steve’s body inched closer to yours, encompassing you against the house’s siding, trapping you with nowhere to go. Partygoers came and went as they pleased, not sparing a passing glance your way as Steve cornered you. For a moment you let yourself get pulled into his allure, succumbing to his overwhelmingly dominant charm.

“You’d like that, wouldn’t you? To have me all to yourself? Then you wouldn’t have to hook up with other guys to try and make me jealous,” Steve’s lips ghosted over yours in the way that always left you whining for more. But something stopped you.

“Wait,” you put your hands on his chest, pushing him back to give you space. “You think I kissed Marcus to make you jealous?” you asked a very confused Steve as you deliberately ignored the fact that he had admitted to being jealous. Steve’s brow furrowed as he tried to figure out what he said wrong.

“Yeah, why else would you have kissed him?” Steve countered, pulling back from you naturally, allowing more space to blossom between you.

“You’re unbelievable,” you stated, anger boiling up beneath the surface and scorching your skin. “Not everything is about you, dickhead,” you pushed past him, heading back towards the front door, desperately in need of another drink after this. But Steve’s hand shot out, grabbing your arm for a second time that evening. His grip was softer this time, free of the possessive fury that drove him earlier.

“That was shitty. I’m sorry,” he rushed out, dropping the overconfident demeanor. In the complicated web of your relationship, it was often difficult to remember what you truly were: friends. And now, before you, stood a friend who genuinely felt bad for making everything about him.

“That was really shitty,” you spoke fiercely, still unmoved with Steve’s grip on your arm. “Apology accepted,” you caved, and Steve dropped his hand, ignoring the sudden cold that filled his palm in the absence of his skin on yours.

“Can we just forget about this and go back inside?” Steve asked and you responded with a nod, already halfway to the door. The party was even more crowded than before, making it far more difficult to find Marcus. “Shit,” Steve muttered beside you, pulling your gaze in the same direction as his.

Across the living room on the makeshift dance floor was the blonde girl Steve had been chatting up earlier. A wicked grin spread across your lips as you watched her sloppily suck face with some dude who was sure to be holding back her hair later while she spilled her guts into a toilet. You stifled a laugh, pulling Steve’s attention away from the blonde and back to you.

“See what happens when you meddle in my love life,” you patted him on the shoulder, his frown only making it harder to contain your laughter.

“Yeah, well I don’t see Marcus anywhere. Maybe he’s got some girl holed up in a room somewhere,” he pointed over his shoulder to the hallway of locked bedroom doors. He wanted to make you feel how he felt at that moment like he was the last kid picked for the kickball team. Undesired. Not that it could possibly be true though, because there was always one person who would always want you, even though he’d never admit it.

“Whatever, I’m getting another drink,” you brushed him off, already making your way through the packed room to burst through the kitchen door. You entered the kitchen, unexpectedly bumping into a solid chest clad in orange, white, and green. Marcus.

“Hey, where’d you and Harrington run off to earlier?” he asked, fingers brushing your arms as he steadied you.

“Sorry about that. Steve was having some girl trouble and needed advice,” you lied, though somehow not entirely. Marcus gave you a soft smile with a nod of understanding. “Do you maybe want to get out of here?” you asked, hoping you didn’t scare off the shy, sweet boy before you.

“Yeah, that sounds nice,” he smiled and you couldn’t help but beam back up at him. You led him back through the throngs of people, passed Eddie who gave you a thumbs up at the sight of Marcus’s hand wrapped around yours, and out the front door.

On the porch steps sat a very deflated Steve, smoking what you were sure wasn’t a cigarette. You told Marcus you’d meet him by his car before sitting down next to Steve.

“Rough night?” you asked as if it was your first time seeing him that evening. He played along with your game though, something he always did.

“You could say that. Think a girl is gonna go home with you and then she’s mackin’ on some other dude,” he blew smoke from his lips, the skunky scent filling the air around you. “Still got you though. What do you say? I can take you back to mine and rock your world, sweetheart,” he wagged his eyebrows at you, his goofy nature peeking through.

It always surprised you how drastically different he could be with you. One minute he’d have you pinned against a wall with his tongue down your throat and the next he’d crack a joke and flub the punchline. The duality of man it seems, or maybe just Steve.

“Sorry, Stevie. I’ve already got a ride,” you pointed towards Marcus who stood leaning up against his car, awaiting your arrival back to his open arms. “See you tomorrow?” you stood, patting him on the knee, and began your trek across the lawn. Steve mumbled out a response, watching as you approached Marcus.

Upon your arrival, Marcus took you in his arms, placed a soft kiss on your lips, and opened the passenger door for you. Steve watched as you waved to him through the car window, taking another drag from the joint between his fingertips. He wasn’t sure when he started feeling so empty, so complicated when he thought he was devoid of love. But he knew as the taillights disappeared into the dark summer night, that something sparked within him. The lack of strings involved in no strings attached had suddenly appeared and become tangled together.

Dream of us in a year

The cardboard box weighed heavy in your hands as you exited the elevator. Sneakers squeaked against the linoleum floors as you traveled down the hall, stopping in front of a door labeled 217. Your hands fumbled with the handle, struggling to keep the box from falling as you tried to open the door.

It swung open, revealing a floppy-haired Steve with his sleeves rolled up behind it. He was a year older now, stubble shadowing his upper lip while shallow wrinkles had already started to line his forehead. He grabbed the box from your hands and moved inside, setting it down in the apartment’s living room. You took a moment to look around, taking in the freshly painted walls and soft carpeted floors.

“Can you believe we’ve got this whole place to ourselves?” Steve came up behind you, wrapping his arms around your waist, breathing in the scent of your perfume. Lavender and vanilla.

“You say that as if Eddie, Robin, and the kids won’t constantly be in and out of here,” you spoke, spinning around to face Steve. Steve shrugged, a smirk cresting his lips.

“Not if we don’t give them a key,” Steve asserted, evoking a laugh from you, throwing your head back as the sound spilled from your lips. As if they’d let you and Steve have your own apartment without giving them easy access to it too. Steve took advantage of your thrown-back head and placed his lips on your neck, leaving a trail of kisses up the column of your throat.

“Steve,” you groaned, stuck between wanting him to continue and needing to keep moving your belongings into your new apartment. But Steve continued his attack on your neck, licking over the fresh bruises he painted across your skin.

“C’mon, baby. We’ll have to christen this place at some point. Why not now?” Steve spoke against your neck, his hot breath sending shivers down your spine. He pushed you back, your body softly colliding with the end of the kitchen counter.

“We’ve still got boxes to bring up,” you answered in heavy, panting breaths. Steve’s hand came up to cup your cheek, his lips traveling to yours in a bruising heat. He was weakening your resolve by the second.

“You really want to stop, then we’ll stop,” Steve stated, pulling back from your lips. He was calling your bluff, you knew that. But your lips missed his and you suddenly felt so cold without his body pressed to yours. So you caved.

“Fuck it, we’ll get ‘em later,” you pulled Steve back in, crashing your lips back together. Steve’s hand drifted from its place on your cheek, moving down your body. He stopped at your breast, giving it a squeeze, before moving down to your shorts.

In one fell swoop, Steve pulled your shorts and panties down your legs and replaced the cloth of your underwear with his fingertips. He brushed against your wet folds, coating his fingers in your juices. A whimper slipped from within you, Steve’s teasing only arousing you more.

He finally slipped a finger in and curled it. Your knees buckled, hands gripping the cool granite countertop to hold you steady.

“Shit, Steve. Feels so good,” he continued his motion, adding another finger. You could feel the tension building within you like a rubber band threatening to snap. You just got to the edge when…

You startled awake, abruptly sitting up and slamming the side of your head into something.

“Ah fuck, that hurt,” you said, rubbing the aching spot and leaning back into the couch.

“You’re telling me,” Steve said from beside you, also touching his head in pain. You’d fallen asleep on his shoulder and slammed your head into his when you snapped awake.

“Sorry, had a weird dream,” you apologized before directing your attention back to the movie you’d been watching before you fell asleep.

“Yeah? What was it about,” Steve prodded, trying to pull your focus back to him. He was clearly just as bored with whatever movie was playing as you had been.

“I, uh, don’t really remember,” you lied poorly, keeping your eyes off of Steve. It felt weird to face him after your dream. It made you feel guilty like your subconscious wanted your relationship with Steve to be more than what it was.

“Liar,” Steve concluded after studying your avoidant gaze. He inched closer, his body turned towards you in his spot on the couch. “You had a sex dream,” he accused and your head snapped in his direction. Your wide-eyed gaze only confirmed what Steve had already guessed. “Holy shit,” he exclaimed with a smile on his face.

“Nope. No. I didn’t have a sex dream,” you denied but Steve was already ignoring you, lost in a slew of his own thoughts.

“You had a sex dream while sleeping on my shoulder. Should I be flattered or offended? Well, I’d be flattered if it was about me. Was it about me?” Steve rambled, ignoring your protests. Once again, your avoidant eyes told Steve everything he needed to know.

“So what? We’ve had actual sex. What’s it matter if I dreamed about it?” you spoke defensively once you realized there was no point in hiding the truth. In the heat of the moment, you hadn’t realized that your body now faced Steve.

“Nothing wrong with it, babe. Just wish you’d told me sooner. We could already be working on making your dream a reality,” he wiggled his eyebrows at you, earning a chuckle in response. Steve leaned in, his body hovering over yours, lips just a breath away from touching.

“No thanks, Stevie,” you pushed him back playfully, knowing he’d be back on you in a second. Just as you expected he moved back in, closing any distance between you.

“Don’t dream it, be it,” he whispered, placing a soft kiss on the corner of your mouth.

“Don't you dare quote Rocky Horror at me right now,” you scolded Steve with a smile, one that he reflected back at you.

“Let me kiss you then,” he spoke softly, tenderly, like it was his biggest desire. You melted, feeling some form of intimacy that rarely reared its head during your hookups with Steve. The walls between you fell down, allowing Steve’s lips to meet yours.

It was soft, gentler than he’d ever kissed you before. As if a switch had been flipped within you both, the lust and desire that had been building for months finally reached its peak and spilled out from each of your lips.

Steve’s knee came up between your thighs, adding the friction you desperately needed after the combination of your dream and his kiss. You pulled apart for a second so you could take off your top and bra, your eyes refusing to leave Steve’s as you did.

You laid flat on your back, extending an open invitation for Steve to swoop in. His gaze on you was hungry and lustful, but it was also something else, something different than it ever had been before. If you didn’t know any better you'd think the look in his eyes was love.

Steve followed suit, removing his own shirt and shimming out of his pants and boxers. He pulled your shorts and panties from your legs, staring open-mouthed at your exposed core. Your dream already had your folds coated in desire, begging to be lapped up by Steve’s skilled tongue. He wanted to taste you, to devour you in the way you both loved, but your hand stopped him.

“Stevie, need you now,” you whined breathily, Steve’s eyes catching yours once again. He nodded, moving up to hover over your body that lay flat against the couch. Your slick made it easy for him to slip in, earning whimpers from both of you as your walls sucked him in.

Steve watched your face for a moment, simply because he could, because he wanted to. He admired the scrunch of your brow, the slight gape of your lips, and the pleading look in your eye. It only enticed him more, finally encouraging him to move.

With a sharp breath, Steve pulled out a bit before pushing back in. It was slow and deep, a stark contrast to the usual fast and rough nature of your hookups with Steve. He was hitting places deep within you, pulling silent moans from your lips.

Your hands searched for something to hold, to guide you through the pleasure Steve’s thrusts were forging. One hand landed on his back, gripping tightly to his skin. The other fell flat against the couch, an open palm facing up by your shoulder.

Steve, who had been so consumed with studying the way your face screwed up as he dragged his cock in and out of you, noticed the fall of your hand. He grabbed it quickly, interlocking his fingers with yours. Steve thrust harder then, though he maintained his steady pace. His eyes locked with yours once more, labored breaths dancing in the small space between his lips and yours.

Steve ground down hard, your hips matching his rhythm as you both neared your highs. You suddenly felt shy. The press of Steve’s body to yours combined with the intensity of your locked eyes, making you glance elsewhere.

“Baby,” Steve’s breathy voice rang out, his free hand turning your face and bringing your gaze back to him. “Want you to look at me when you cum. Need to see it. Please, baby,” he begged, the rhythm of his thrusts faltering slightly, telling you that he was close.

You just nodded, leaning up a bit to kiss him. Steve savored the feel of your lips on his before you pulled back, meeting his gaze as requested. The pressure in the pit of your stomach became too much. Your hand squeezed Steve’s tightly as your face contorted in pleasure and your walls fluttered around him.

Steve watched as you hit your high, continuing his thrusts as your thighs shook and your moans of his name echoed throughout the room. He couldn’t hold on any longer, reaching his own peak with a low groan of your name. His eyes never left yours as he pumped his hot ropes of cum into you and watched you unwind.

After you’d both calmed down, breaths evening out, and chests no longer heaving, Steve gently pulled out. He kept his body on yours, placing a gentle kiss on your lips. Then he got up, retrieving a damp washcloth to clean you both up.

The both of you redressed and resumed your previous spots on the couch, pretending to pay attention to the movie again. You tried to ignore the shift in the air, the warmth that filled your chest at the thought of what just happened.

Steve did the same, his wandering eyes glazed over as he got lost in thought about the whole ordeal. Something occurred to him then, something too important to ignore. His past few hookups hadn’t made him feel anywhere close to how good he just felt with you, how good he always felt with you.

The other girls were always too loud or too demanding or too submissive, but were they really? Steve would get hung up on some flaw while with them, no matter how big or small, and effectively throw off the whole thing for himself.

But as he sat there with the smell of sex still lingering in the air and some shitty movie playing on the screen in front of him, Steve realized that the other girls’ biggest flaw was always just that they weren’t you. And maybe Steve didn’t want no strings attached anymore. Maybe he just wanted you. And he had no clue how to tell you.

I’m still hanging around

Family Video hadn’t seen a customer for the past hour and forty-five minutes. The front counter had been wiped clean at least six times and all the tapes were put back into the system and reshelved, leaving Robin and Steve with absolutely nothing to do.

They’d resorted to taking turns trying to catch candy in their mouths when the bell sounded from above the front door. You strolled in with a furrowed brow as you watched Robin pick a stray skittle from her hair.

“Congrats on the big promotion, Steven,” you called out, approaching the counter with a wide smile. Steve’s new name tag with the words “Shift Lead” printed beneath his name shined in the store's harsh overhead lighting. Before Steve could thank you or comment on the use of his full name, Robin spoke up, effectively interrupting him.

“Thank god, someone to talk to other than this bozo,” Robin gestured to Steve who shot her a frown. “So tell me, how’d your date go last night?” she asked, leaning forward on her elbows and abandoning the half-empty pack of Skittles that sat on the counter.

Steve rolled his eyes at the mention of you going on another date with another guy, likely with some douchebag who didn’t deserve you. He took that as his cue to leave, wandering around the store to make himself look busy and avoid overhearing any talk of how soft this new guy’s lips were. Steve could still feel the pang of jealousy that lived in the pit of his stomach ever since you said that about some guy you went out with last week.

Despite his recent revelation, Steve had made no move to make his feelings known to you. He was caught in limbo between being seconds from spilling his guts to you at any given moment and refraining out of the fear of ruining your friendship. The more he heard of you going out with other guys, the more he doubted whether his feelings would be reciprocated.

“That bad?” Robin practically shouted in response to what you told her about your date, dragging Steve from his thoughts and drawing him into your conversation. He lingered near the movie shelves, just close enough to hear as you recounted the way your date more or less slobbered into your mouth when you made out.

“I had to chug half a bottle of mouthwash to feel like I wasn’t drowning in his saliva anymore,” you sighed, resting your chin in your hand as you leaned against the counter.

“That sucks, man,” Robin said, patting your shoulder comfortingly. The bell above the door rang out and Robin peered over your shoulder to catch a look at the customer. Robin glanced at Steve, hoping he’d help whoever just walked in, but he simply pointed over his shoulder, indicating for her to get to work. “Shit, duty calls,” she spoke quickly, rushing from behind the counter to greet the new customer.

“So,” Steve appeared seemingly out of nowhere, sliding behind the counter to stand where Robin previously was. “I told my parents about my promotion and they want to take me out to a nice dinner,” Steve’s gaze was drawn to the glass counter in front of him, suddenly unable to look at you.

“That sounds nice. I’m glad they’re finally recognizing your achievements,” you beamed at him, eyes scanning over his messy hair. He’d clearly been running his hands through it, nervously tugging the perfectly styled strands out of place.

“Yeah,” he started, letting out a huff of breath as he spoke. “They want you to come too,” he finally met your confused gaze. Your brows lifted and your mouth fell agape as you processed Steve’s words.

“Me? What? Why?” was all you could get out, words stuttered as your head filled with questions.

“Well, remember that time they came home early and nearly caught us in the kitchen so we played it off like we were about to make breakfast?” Steve asked, watching as your cheeks heat in embarrassment from the memory.

“The French toast incident. Yeah, I remember,” you nodded, curious about its connection to Steve’s upcoming celebratory dinner.

“Ever since then, they’ve been convinced that we’re dating. No matter how many times I’ve told them we’re not, they still think we’re together. They call you my girlfriend and everything,” Steve informed you, and it was like a light bulb went off in your head.

“The very few interactions I’ve had with them make a lot more sense now,” you stated, recalling all the times Steve’s parents asked you very girlfriend-esque questions. “Anyways, I’ll be there. Anything to support my little Stevie,” you pinched his cheek and Steve couldn’t help but laugh.

Robin rounded the front counter, barreling Steve aside to ring up the customer she’d been dealing with. You took that as your indication to leave. You spun on your heels, heading back to the front door when Steve called out behind you.

“I’ll pick you up tomorrow at seven,” Steve spoke and you just kept walking, finally stopping as you reached the door.

“See you then, Stevie,” you smiled at him, pushing open the door and walking out into the summer sun.

Steve wasn’t sure why his palms were so sweaty all of a sudden. Maybe he could blame it on the rundown air conditioner that Keith refused to replace. But he knew deep down that it was you. It was always you. His chest filled with butterflies at the thought of taking you out on a real date, despite the annoying addition of his parents. He’d treat you better than any of the other guys had before. He’d make you want to be his in the same way that he wanted to be yours, that he was sure of.

I know what you tell your friends

Steve picked you up right when he said he would, watching as you descended your driveway in a sundress. He couldn’t help the silent gasp that fell from his lips, so taken aback by your beauty. The passenger door swung open and you slid into the seat, meeting Steve’s admiring gaze with a smile.

“Ready, boyfriend?” you teased, leaning into the role that Steve’s parents expected you to play. Steve could’ve sworn that his heart stopped as the word fell from your lips. He hadn’t known until then how much he wanted to hear you call him that.

“You bet, girlfriend,” he snapped himself out of his stupor and finally responded, driving off in the direction of the restaurant.

Butterflies bloomed in your stomach, their delicate wings swarming deep within you. Things had been different with Steve recently but you weren’t sure why. His longing stares and flushed cheeks raised feelings from deep within that you were unable to identify, pushing them aside for the sake of your friendship.

The restaurant came into view and you noticed the nervous tap of Steve’s fingers on the steering wheel. When the car came to a stop you took hold of his hand, wrapping his palm with yours and easing the worries that plagued him.

“I’ll be with you the whole time,” you spoke softly, comfortingly. Steve’s eyes softened, his head nodding as his nerves melted away at the tingle of his hand enveloped in yours.

The restaurant was packed when you entered, your hand still interlocked with Steve’s. It didn’t take long to find Steve’s parents though, all you had to do was follow the sound of a woman complaining that her ice water had too much ice.

“Hi Mom, Dad,” Steve greeted his parents, pulling their attention to the two of you standing on the opposite side of the table. Steve’s parents were not the touchy kind, opting for a simple nod of their head in greeting rather than a handshake or hug.

“It’s nice to see you again, dear,” Mrs. Harrington addressed you, a plastic smile upturning the corners of her lips. The conversation continued, Steve’s parents pestering you both with questions.

“Steve tells me that you’re in school?” Mr. Harrington questioned, his gaze peering at you through the thick lenses of his glasses. You were taken aback by his question, not expecting him to know much about you. Steve had talked about you to his parents? He’d told them about you and your personal life?

“Yes, I am. I’m enrolled at the community college for now but I plan to transfer to a state school once I get my associate's degree,” you did your best to remain calm under the intense gaze of Steve’s parents, though the foundations of your cool facade were beginning to crack. Steve noticed the panic that creased your brow, taking it upon himself to clutch your hand in his under the table. Relief flooded you instantly, calmed by the warm caress of Steve’s skin on yours.

“That’s a good plan,” Mr. Harrington spoke again, turning his gaze from you to his son. “Seems much better than working at a video store with no thought of the future,” his face remained straight as he insulted Steve as if it were second nature by now.

Steve’s admiring smile, the one that stretched his lips at his father’s approval of your current path, faltered at the harsh words directed his way. Your hand squeezed Steve’s, reminding him that you were still there, that the insensitive words of the man before him didn’t matter.

“Dad,” Steve started but was quickly silenced by the raise of his father’s hand. It was like watching a dog following its owner’s command to sit. Steve was well trained by now, knowing when to be quiet, but you weren’t.

“With all due respect Mr. Harrington, Steve has worked his ass off at Family Video,” you defended, ignoring the gasp that came from Mrs. Harrington at your use of profanity. “Steve earned his promotion through hard work and dedication, two principles that I thought a businessman like yourself would greatly value,” you continued, your hand still clasped against Steve’s as your rage boiled over.

“Well, yes but-” Mr. Harrington began but you interrupted him before he could continue.

“Maybe it’s not the most glamorous job in the world, but Steve is learning valuable skills that can easily translate to other jobs later on,” you stated while Steve’s parents sat dumbfounded across from you, not used to being talked back to. “It's a shame you can’t see how wonderful and compassionate your son is. You should be proud of the man he’s becoming. I know I am,” your eyes roamed the dropped jaws of Steve’s parents and held back a smile at their shocked expressions.

You turned to Steve then, his gaze securely fastened on you. A smirk danced on his lips as he admired the crease in your forehead and the angry pinch of your brows. He watched as your expression unraveled, softening as your eyes landed on him.

Steve was speechless, stunned by your fierce loyalty on his behalf. He wanted to kiss you so badly, crush his lips to yours in a way that left a bruise by the time you pulled away for air. But he held himself back, not wanting to make you uncomfortable with such a public display of affection.

“If you’ll excuse me, I’m going to freshen up in the restroom,” you gently pulled your hand from Steve’s, pushing your chair back and knocking some silverware off the table in the process. Steve watched as you walked away, encapsulated by the sway of your hips and the skin exposed by the movement of your dress with each step.

“I’ll go get some clean silverware,” Steve leaned down, picking up the utensils that littered the ground. He then quickly followed in your direction, leaving his still-shocked parents alone at the table. He approached the bathroom, a single-user restroom, and knocked on the door.

“Occupied,” you called out through the door, barely heard over the conversations and soft music that filled the restaurant.

“It’s me,” Steve said into the door, hoping not to attract too much attention from the tables nearby. The lock turned quickly, allowing Steve to push the door open and step into the small bathroom with you.

He clicked the lock back into place before turning to face you. His eyes read yours, receiving their open invitation, so he grasped your face, pulling it to meet his. Steve kissed you in the way he desired to only minutes before, with a rough clash of teeth and tongues that left you breathless.

“That was so fucking hot,” he spoke into your lips, one hand caressing your cheek as the other trailed down to your exposed legs, roaming the expanse of your bare thighs.

“Steve,” you tried to break free from his kiss, but his lips followed yours. “Your parents are still at the table,” you reminded him, knowing that he intended to do far more than just kiss you.

“We’ll just have to be quick then,” his lips caressed yours again, his hand moving inwards, meeting the seam of your panties. You were conflicted, worry washing over you at the possibility of being caught. But Steve’s touch momentarily quelled the burning heat that bloomed between your legs.

His fingers slipped beneath your panties, tracing the outline of your folds, swiping at the dampness that began to form. He swiftly pulled your panties down, helping you step out of them before shoving them into his back pocket. Steve leaned you over the sink, unzipping his pants and slipping his hardened cock from the confines of the material.

You watched him through the mirror in front of you, his hands stroking his cock before lining it up with your entrance. He eased in, slipping in inch by inch before bottoming out. A moan slipped past his lips as he quickly pulled out and thrust back in, giving you little time to adjust.

His thrusts were harsh and rough, knocking you forward with each motion. Your elbows that propped you up slid against the sink’s smooth countertop, bringing you closer and closer to the mirror with each movement. But Steve didn’t let up, forcefully pounding his cock into your core as he whimpered above you.

“Fuck, babe,” he groaned, his hands holding your hips in place. “It’s like your pussy was made for me. Squeezing me so good,” he didn’t let up, fucking you desperately, like he’d never get to do it again.

“Mmhmm,” you hummed, suppressing your moans, not wanting to be heard by the rest of the restaurant.

“So close, baby,” Steve leaned down, pressing kisses to your bare shoulders while maintaining his fierce pace. Your high was building along with Steve’s as he brushed a spot deep within you.

“Oh fuck, I’m cumming,” Steve spoke suddenly, catching you off guard as he spilled into you. Steve’s thrusts faltered as he pumped his cum deep within your folds. “All mine. Want you to be all mine,” he whispered into your skin, slumping against your folded body. It took a moment before he stood up straight again, regaining his composure and tucking his cock back into his pants.

You stood up with him, wide eyes watching him from the mirror. He fixed his disheveled hair, not noticing the shocked expression that you wore. You hadn’t cum, hadn’t had enough time for your orgasm to fully build before Steve spilled his seed into you. You also couldn’t ignore the words he muttered against you. Words that spoke of a relationship, something more. The same words that Steve seemed to be completely oblivious to having said.

“You okay?” Steve asked, finally noticing your worried look. You nodded, observing the boy who seemed to have unknowingly confessed his desires to you. “I’ll leave you to freshen up. I gotta go get more silverware,” he pulled the dirty silverware from his pocket that didn’t have your panties before opening the door and leaving you pantyless, alone in the bathroom with frazzled thoughts and his cum leaking down your thigh.

“What the fuck?” you mumbled to yourself, locking the door once more and cleaning yourself up. Did Steve want to be with you? Did he want to have you in the way you secretly hoped?

Your thoughts still raced as you exited the restroom, weaving through tables to get back to where you previously sat. But something caught your attention, or more like someone. Steve stood with a waiter, some guy you recognized from high school but couldn’t quite name off the top of your head.

“Are you two dating? Never thought I’d see the day when King Steve finally got tied down,” the unnamed waiter said, earning a grin from Steve. You were curious to know his answer, to hear what he said about you when you weren’t around.

“Nah, man. She’s just some girl that lets me fuck her on my couch,” Steve chuckled, running a hand through his hair. The color drained from your face, breath exhaled shakily as tears welled in your eyes. His response was a far cry from what he’d whispered as he came inside you just moments ago.

Your feet carried you away, stumbling back to the table to avoid being seen by Steve. You plopped into your chair, meeting the skittish gazes of Steve’s parents. Their expressions reminded you of your words from before, how you defended Steve, how very wrong you may have been.

Steve appeared a minute later clutching a new set of silverware and spewing an apology for how long it took. He placed the silverware in front of you, replacing your soiled set. His hand came to rest on your thigh and you couldn’t help the way you flinched at his touch. It was as if he was a completely different person to you now.

Conversation resumed, Steve easing the tension at the table and re-engaging with his parents. You chimed in when needed, staying silent otherwise, consumed by thought. Steve’s parents had warmed up to you again by the end of the meal, despite how shutdown you had become.

“Steve should bring you to our house in Long Beach sometime. It’s gorgeous this time of year,” Mrs. Harrington suggested and you forced on a fake smile, one that didn’t quite reach your eyes, as you nodded. You and Steve thanked his parents for dinner before heading back to Steve’s car.

The drive back to your house was quiet, your eyes peering through the window, gazing at the passing scenery, doing anything to keep from looking at the boy next to you. Steve came to a stop in front of your driveway and you immediately opened the door, stumbling out and starting the walk to your front door.

“What are you doing?” Steve called after you, exiting his car and following behind you.

“Going into my house,” you said, not bothering to turn around or stop, continuing your trek to the door.

“No kiss? No goodbye?” Steve questioned, finally reaching you at your doorstep. You had been fumbling with your keys, struggling to unlock the door. Steve’s hand landed on your shoulder and you snapped, abandoning your keys in the lock and whipping around to face him.

“Why does it matter? I’m just some girl that lets you fuck her on your couch, right? So why do you care?” anger spilled out of you with each syllable, causing Steve to pull back, his foot falling down a step, letting you tower over him. “Yeah, I heard you, asshole,” your words spewed from your lips as Steve’s mouth opened, silently fumbling for words.

“I didn’t-” Steve began before you cut him off.

“You don’t have to worry about people thinking you’re tied down anymore, King Steve,” you turned back to your front door, finally managing to get it unlocked. You took a step inside while Steve still stood on the doorstep. “Maybe you can find some other girl to fuck around with instead,” you slammed the door shut, sinking against it and falling to the ground as the tears you held in finally leaked down your cheeks. You didn’t mean it, of course you didn’t mean it. But the hurt and anger tore you apart as you sobbed into your hands.

Steve stood still on your doorstep, his feet rooted to the spot, staring at the closed door. He loved you, he knew that for sure. As his glassy eyes traced the spot where you just stood, he felt his heart crack and shatter, its pieces filling the pit of his stomach with enough force to make bile rise in his throat. Steve knew he loved you, and unfortunately, he knew that he also just lost you.

Someone you couldn’t lose

“I really would rather just go back home. Why do you even need me for this?” you asked Eddie, his arm interlocked with yours, dragging you forward. He continued his steady pace, not letting up despite your dragging feet that weighed him down.

“Because you haven’t done anything but cry for the past few days. You need to leave your cave of solitude,” Eddie’s breath was a bit labored as he led you to the entrance of The Hideout. “Plus Gareth canceled on me and I didn’t want to go by myself,” Eddie added, eliciting an eye roll from you.

“Why couldn’t you take Robin or, I don’t know, literally anyone else?” you asked while Eddie guided you through the bar. The bar was practically empty, the crowd even smaller than when Corroded Coffin usually plays. God, the band playing tonight must suck.

“Because I enjoy your company, sweetheart,” Eddie hummed, plastering a sickeningly sweet smile on his lips. A smile that you met with a glare. “And Robin is busy with Steve tonight,” he revealed his true reason for inviting you.

In another universe, a less complicated one, you would be mad at Eddie for being his last-resort concert buddy. But in this universe, the one where you and Steve were interlinked in an ever-so-tangled web, your heart stopped at the mention of his name.

Steve’s crude words played through your head like a bad earworm, momentarily overtaking your thoughts as your face faltered. Eddie watched the quiver of your lip and crease in your brow. He ached at the thought of your sadness, wanting to alleviate any trace of it, which is why he brought you to The Hideout, but not for the reason that you might think.

“Let’s go get a drink,” Eddie put his hand on your back ushering you towards the nearly empty bar. For once today, he didn’t have to drag you, your feet willingly trailing along behind him at the thought of alcohol. Eddie plopped down on a stool ordering you both a drink while you slid in beside him.

The drinks were quickly made and paid for, leaving the two of you to sip away in silence. Your gaze drifted around the bar, curiously eyeing its patrons. Something didn’t seem right as you scanned the stage set up on the side of the room.

“Eddie,” you took a sip of your drink, focus shifting back to the boy next to you. “If there’s a show tonight then why is it so empty in here?” the question left your lips and Eddie’s nervous stare landed on the wood surface of the bar below.

The front door slammed open, saving Eddie from your question. Your head whipped around at the sound of the door in combination with the hushed voices that filled the room. Steve and Robin. They were arguing about something, but you couldn’t hear them. The sounds that encompassed the bar slipped away, leaving your ears ringing in the stark silence.

Watery eyes gazed upon the boy across the bar that was too enveloped in his conversation to look up. Eddie cleared his throat beside you, but your eyes didn’t leave Steve, roaming over his wild hair and disheveled clothes. Eddie may not have been able to get your attention, but he did get Steve’s, drawing his awareness until his eyes landed on you.

Steve froze in place, his pink lips parting in surprise as he traced your features. His heart ached at the distance between you, both metaphorical and physical. You couldn’t help but feel the same as you got down from your stool, feet pulling you closer.

Steve met you halfway, stopping in the middle of the room, uncaring of the questioning looks you both attracted in the process. Words were lost on the tip of your tongue, incapable of leaving your lips.

“I didn’t know you were going to be here,” Steve spoke breathlessly, a nervous hand running through his hair. “Robin dragged me here, but I can leave if you want,” Steve offered, but you quickly found yourself shaking your head.

“Can we talk?” you asked, your voice small like a child who’d just been scolded. Steve nodded quickly, taking no time to think over your suggestion. He didn’t need to, all he could think about for the past few days was how badly he wanted to talk to you. The ache in his chest only grew more painful with each passing day of silence.

With his hand grasped in yours, you led Steve out the side door to an alleyway next to The Hideout. Your hand tingled at the warmth of Steve’s palm pressed gently against yours. Reluctantly, you dropped his hand, leaning against the building as Steve’s wandering gaze studied you nervously. He wasn’t sure whether you wanted to speak first or not, but he just couldn’t hold it in any longer, succumbing to his urge to expel an explanation.

“I’m so sorry. I can’t believe I said that about you,” Steve spewed out, his words desperate and pleading, frown lines etched deep into his skin.

“Is that really how you feel about me? That I’m just some girl?” you asked, voice quiet and broken, stifled by the tears welling in your eyes. You couldn’t meet his gaze, embarrassed to sound so small, so reliant on his opinion of you.

“No, absolutely not,” Steve shook his head immediately, stepping closer to you. “I just- I’ve been feeling a certain way about you lately, but I didn’t want to scare you. So I downplayed it, tried to make it seem like it was nothing to that guy from high school, but it is something,” Steve confessed, scanning your face for any hint of what you were thinking. He couldn’t find what he was looking for in your avoidant stare and his shoulders deflated.

A cool summer breeze whispered in the space between your bodies, bringing a chill to your skin as you thought over Steve’s words. You could feel the way his eyes searched you, pleading for a sign, but you didn’t budge, not when you didn’t have the answer you were looking for yet.

“And how exactly have you been feeling about me lately?” you finally look up, meeting Steve’s desperate stare. His lips parted, tongue darting out to wet them as he mulled over his next words. You were giving him a shot, a chance to lay it all out on the line. Steve just had to be smart enough, brave enough, to take it.

“Like I love you,” Steve asserted with shaky hands, carefully watching you for a reaction. The breath in your lungs fled, your eyes widening a bit and then softening in sweet admiration while the corner of your lips ticked upwards ever so slightly, which only encouraged Steve to continue. “Like I want to be with you all the time, not just late at night or when neither of us can get laid. I want you to be mine and for me to be yours,” his feet carried him closer to you, his spearmint and cigarette scented breath fanning warmly across your face. “Do you want that too?” he asked, his confidence dwindling by the second, making his voice as small as yours had been earlier.

His eyes darted back and forth tracing your soft skin, your lengthy eyelashes, and your plush lips. Steve was dying for your answer, just on the brink of falling to his knees and begging, but if there was even the slightest possibility that you were to reject him then he wanted to savor this moment beforehand. The calm before the storm.

He wanted to memorize the curve of your cheeks, every beauty mark or scar expanding across your skin, the way the moonlight illuminated your face in the dark of the night. Steve decided he could wait forever for you to speak your next syllable as long as he got to stay in this moment and simply be with you. But despite his desire to freeze time, your mouth opened, effectively sealing Steve’s potential fate with you.

“Yes,” your answer came out breathlessly like you had just finished running a marathon, and based on how fast your heart was pounding in your chest, you might as well have. Steve exhaled in a smile, his tongue wetting his lips once more. He wanted nothing more than to caress your supple skin and kiss you. So he did.

Steve wrapped you in his arms, pulling you flush against him, and searched your face for reassurance. When he found what he was looking for, Steve dived in, pressing his lips to yours. It was far from the first time you’d kissed, but something felt different this time. It was years of buried feelings finally clawing their way to the surface and announcing that they were here to stay. You pulled away with a smile and your forehead pressed to his.

“You know,” Steve spoke, words just above a whisper as he attempted to catch his breath. “Now that I think about it, there’s no way we coincidentally ended up in the same place at the same time,” he finished, arching a brow at you, hoping you’d understand what he was implying.

“Eddie and Robin definitely set this up,” you caught on to his train of thought.

“Definitely,” Steve agreed. He should be mad, he really should be. His friends had no right to meddle in his love life like this. But how could he be upset when he had you cradled in his arms and your chapstick smeared across his lips?

“I hate them,” you voiced, clearly unserious in your statement.

“I don’t,” Steve peered down at you, catching the reflection of the crescent moon in your eyes. “They brought me back to you,” he shrugged with a smile and you couldn't help but mirror him before closing the space between you with another kiss.

After a few more shared smiles and soft kisses, you and Steve decided to go back into the bar. It was just as empty as it had been before, further proving to you that Eddie lied in order to get you and Steve together. Steve’s hand was clasped around yours as you walked further in, spotting Eddie and Robin sitting across from one another in a booth.

“Follow my lead,” you whispered as the pair finally saw the two of you approaching. Wide smiles stretched their lips at the sight of you hand in hand.

“So Eddie, when’s this band coming on?” you asked, coming to a stop at the end of the booth. Eddie’s eyes widened at your question, having expected you to forget about how he got you to The Hideout under false pretenses, especially given the fact that you’d made up with Steve.

“There, uh, isn’t one for tonight,” Eddie stuttered, looking like a deer in headlights at the arch of your brow.

“Oh,” you did your best to look taken aback like this wasn’t the answer you had expected. “So you lied?” you questioned, your tone expressing more confusion rather than anger, which only made Eddie more nervous. His mouth hung agape while Steve and Robin stifled their giggles and smirks.

“How about I get everyone a drink?” Eddie stood up quickly, looking for an escape. “Steve? Wanna help?” Eddie backed away from you and headed towards the bar. Steve released his hand from yours, shaking his head with a smile as he followed behind.

You slid into Eddie’s vacated seat, across from Robin. She still had a smirk etched into her face when your gazes met.

“Don't think you’re off the hook too,” you stated and her smirk fell almost comically. Your gaze drifted from her to the bar, landing on Steve. He was already facing you with a warm smile.

“I love you,” he mouthed to you, and you felt your breath catch again. It was something you’d have to get used to. After so long of denying your feelings and the insistence to stay casual, it would be a big change. But it was a change you were more than happy to accommodate.

“I love you too,” you mouthed back, and you really did mean it.

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etherealforever234 · 1 year

Text

I have to say I am making this for me dksjksjdkjsdhjkhsjdskjdhkjsdks because I needed to compile some of my favourite fics in one place so it's easier for me to read them for 72983th time rather than fighting for my life scrolling down the blog...

BUT if you see this and decide to read them pretty please make sure to show them some love BECAUSE ALL OF THEM DESERVE IT! Some are 18+ so minors don't even think about it. Focus on school, kids. Non-minors, like I said please make sure to reblog/comment if you like anything you read it helps more than you know.❤️

Recs under the cut :

You deserve each other by @bimrwolf - Could not stop thinking about this AU for a few days. Literally PLAGUED my brain. (18+)

Fix it by @lovebugism - IT'S ABOUT THE KIND OF ANGST THAT KILLS YOU AND YOU LET IT🤌🏻🤌🏻🤌🏻

Don't call me baby by @katyswrites - this is actively ruining my life as we speak. Modern Steve and you add sugar daddy au to that KILL ME. (18+)

Nine facts, one lie by @stevebabey - the amount of times I have read this should be a record…but god I am IN LOVE with this!

Love as sweet as honey (and lover I’m hungry) by @stevebabey - when I tell you the praise kink in me was THRIVING! (18+)

She drives me crazy by @upsidedownwithsteve - I don’t think I can ever say in words how much I LOVE this AU so plz take this keysmash jskskskskskskskdkzjdjzhchxhxjchxhcnmdnxnxjsjdidieidisjcjsndmsnfndndkfj (18+)

Do you think I have forgotten (about you) by @keeryshouse - the exes to lovers buildup is fucking CRAZY! The slow falling in love again makes me dizzy (18+)

Not like this by @makeadealwithme - Friends to lovers but make it more complex and realistic and angsty jsksjsjzjsjcjdjfj I LOVEEEEEE

Of monsters and mistletoes by @ficsilike-reblogged - I am SUCH a sucker for 5+1 things but with Steve and Christmas and goddamn mistletoes I just 😭😭😭

Call it what you want & So it goes by @maelialuv - INSANITY! Absolutely fucking insane. (18+)

‘Tis the damn season by @katyswrites - The range of emotions this series put me through lmao because I DISTINCTLY remember going from horny to straight up bawling this is SO GOOD 🤌🏻 (18+)

I'll put us together back at heart by @sanguineterrain - Just...wow. The ex-friends angst was so DELICIOUS oml! LOVE LOVE LOVE

Lol I know I have already added my definitely not needed and incredibly incoherent keysmash thoughts in the reblogs but I couldn't just mention the fics and not talk a little about how they ruined my life! Thank YOU for keeping this fandom alive and blessing me with these fics <333333

#steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x fem!reader #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington smut #steve harrington angst #steve harrington fluff #steve harrinton fic recs #This list is already so freaking long sjdkjshdkjshdkjsd #I might end up making another one too ksksjdsjdksjdk #fic recs for P <3

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forever-rogue · 2 years

Note

Hey! My mom died a couple of weeks ago, could you please write a steve or eddie fic comforting a fem reader who’s grieving? Please?

AN | Hi bb, I’m sorry this took a bit to get to! This one got to me a little bit because I understand in my own way what you’re going through; next month it’ll be two years since I lost my mom and I know how hard it can be. I hope you’re doing okay and taking care of yourself and know you are loved.

Warnings | [Parent] Death and grieving

Pairing | Steve x Fem!Reader

Word Count | 2k

Masterlist | Steve, Main

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

You stared out the window and watched the rain falling. It seemed like it hadn’t let up in ages and mirrored how your heart had been feeling. You heard his soft footsteps, having memorized his gait over the years, but it still made you jump when he rapped his knuckles against your open door. You found that you didn’t even have the energy to look over at him, instead leaning your head against the glass as you sat in the bay window.

“Hey sweetheart.” Steve always had the sweetest and softest voice. He came across the room, pressed a kiss to the crown of your head before sitting opposite you on the padded seat. He bent his knees and they touched yours, the contact so minimal but so needed and comforting in the moment. He didn’t ask how you were doing, and honestly? You appreciated that so much. He knew you weren’t okay and he respected that.

“Hi Stevie,” your throat was dry and scratchy. It was the first thing you’d said out loud all day. The boy reached for your hand, gently taking it in his as he threaded your fingers together. He offered you the smallest of smiles and you found it in yourself to give it back to him, “you didn’t have to come over.”

“I wanted to,” he promised and you knew he meant it. He was good like, always so gentle and kind and loving. You didn’t how you deserved him but you loved him so much that it hurt sometimes, “wanted to see my girl. I love you.”

“I love you,” you echoed, the sentiment sounding flat and monotone, but you supposed everything you said these days did. But he knew that you meant it, “I don’t think I’m very much fun today, Steve. I don’t want to bore you.”

“You could never bore me. ‘sides, you’re my favorite person ever and even doing nothing with you makes me happy,” you felt tears well up at the sentiment and couldn’t help the way your lip trembled with effort as you tried not to cry.

“Oh Steve,” the tears pearled up and ran down your cheeks. He used his free to hand to gently brush them away, tenderly running his knuckles along the apple of your cheek. You sniffled at him and, as if he could read your mind, he gently pulled you into lap, “I’m sorry. I just…I don’t even know. But I love you, I know that much.”

“I know, sweetheart,” he wrapped his strong arms around your waist as looped yours around his neck before lying against his chest. He held you tightly, rubbing your back in soothing motions as you buried your face in his neck. He could feel the cotton of his shirt getting soaked with tears, but he didn’t mind. Steve just hoped that he could properly convey just how much he loved you, “I’ve got you, okay? I’ve always got you, baby.”

And he held you for some time, letting you get out all of your tears and whatever else you needed out, whimpering soft words of love and devotion in your ear. Once you were all out of tears and feeling exhausted, you pulled back to look at your boyfriend with red-rimmed eyes. He kissed your cheek before he pressed his forehead against yours, “c-can we stay in today? I don’t feel like doing much. I kinda just want to get in bed and take a nap.”

“We can do whatever you want,” he promised, “a nap sounds good too. Let’s do that, and the rest we can figure out later.”

“You’ll stay?”

“I’ll stay however long you want me to.”

“Forever?”

“Forever it is.”

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

“Steve?” the golden boy was lying next to you in bed, half awake and blinking his pretty honeyed eyes sleepily. He turned on his side so he could properly face you, using a tender touch to brush your hair out of your face. You made a small sound but leaned into his touch.

“Sweetheart,” a lazy smile tugged up the corner of his mouth and you couldn’t help but press a kiss there, “good morning to you.”

“Hi,” your heart swelled with affection for the boy. He’d been so good to you over the last couple of months - not that he hadn’t been before - but you were so thankful for him. You weren’t sure if you could have handled things as well without him. He was so patient, never pushing or pulling, so attentive and he poured every bit of love he had into you. A lot of people ended up just leaving you to your own devices after a bit, offering their condolences at the loss of your mother and telling you to reach out, but you could tell their concern was only surface level.

But not Steve. Not your wonderful, amazing boyfriend. He was there with you through the multitude of emotions and stages of grief (which totally didn’t happen how everyone made it seem), and never made you feel unloved or like your feelings were invalid. And maybe he didn’t always know what to say or do, but having him there, your rock, made everyday a little bit easier.

“I was thinking,” you whispered softly and you half expected him to tease you but he didn’t. Not today, despite the fact that you knew what his little smile meant, “I think I was to go and see her today. I think I’m ready.”

You hadn’t gone back to the cemetery since her funeral. It felt like if you went, you were acknowledging that she was permanently gone, that she was never coming back. If you never visited, you could almost pretend that she was just gone on a trip or something. But you knew the truth and while it still hurt, and you knew it always would, you couldn’t just keep ignoring things either. And maybe it would be some sort of closure, or something, but you felt that you needed this.

“Okay,” he leaned in and kissed you softly, pulling you closer into his warm, pliable body, “that’s what we’ll do today. I’m with you every step of the way, sweetheart.”

“I know,” you exhaled shakily but offered him a smile nonetheless, “I love you so much, Steve.”

“I love you too, baby.”

-─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

It turned out that talking about going and actually going to the cemetery were two totally different things. As soon as Steve had parked, you clutched at the flowers in your hand tightly. Sunflowers - they’d been her favorites. Steve didn’t push you to get out, instead holding your hand and letting you nervously ramble. You’d be ready when you were ready, and he would have waited however look it took.

After about half an hour, you inhaled deeply and exhaled it all back out slowly. You turned to Steve and found his features gently and soft as he held up your entwined hands and pressed a kiss to your knuckles, “okay. I’m ready.”

“Okay,” a gentle squeeze of reassurance on your hand. He waited until you reluctantly pulled your hand from his and stepped out of his car, brushing off your dress and holding the flowers close. He came over and wrapped an arm around your waist, “do you want me to come? Or would you prefer to go alone?”

“Come. Please?” you asked and he nodded without hesitation, “she really loved you too.”

“I know,” your mother had been more of a mom to him than his had ever been, “you know, sometimes she’d ask me when we were finally getting married so she could start just calling me her son. I told we’re still so young, but she always insisted when you know you know. She wasn’t wrong.”

“And she was already calling you her son anyway,” you laughed at the memory of her bragging about her wonderful daughter and amazing son-in-law to her coworkers, “she made me promise never to let you go.”

“Did you promise?” his voice held a soft, teasing tone and you couldn’t help but laugh lightly. It felt so good to laugh again.

“Of course,” you leaned up and pressed a kiss to his cheek. You fell into a comfortable silence as you walked along the path and through so many plots. So many people had been through exactly what you were going through now. And even if it didn’t make things better, it was comforting to know that you weren’t alone.

You stopped when you saw her headstone, and it felt like that same initial blow all over again. For a moment you thought you were going to break down and cry, and go through it all again, but when you felt Steve holding onto you firmly, you were able to ground yourself. You could do this; it was always going to be difficult but you would be okay.

You took the flowers that Steve had taken the duty of carrying and gently laid them down next to the others that were slowly drying up. There was something beautiful about seeing them all there, knowing that there was so much displayed through them, even if it was silent.

“Hey mom,” you whispered softly as your fingers brushed over the dates etched into the marble, “I miss you so, so much. I wish you were here, I wish…I wish I could have one more day with you. Just…something. I wasn’t ready to let you go. But I know that you’re still here, in my heart, and that you always will be. I love you so much and I always will. I was so lucky to have you and be loved by you. But I’m still lucky because I had you and I still have dad and Steve. I don’t know how often I’ll be able to come out here, but I hope you know you’ll always be in my heart.”

You brushed away the few tears that had rolled down your cheeks before letting out a small breath of relief. You traced over her name before slowly standing back up. She might have been gone, but she’d never really be gone.

Turning back, you found Steve standing there, his own eyes glossy with tears and a soft smile on his face. He held his arms open and you threw yourself into them, hugging onto him as tightly as you could.

“I love you,” you whispered into his ear before pulling back to study the pretty boy, “my sweet Stevie.”

“I love you,” he smiled sweetly, his hand settling on your hip in a loving grasp, “I’m glad we came.”

“Me too,” you agreed and today you actually meant it. You felt better - lighter - than you had in a long time. It still hurt, but today it hurt a little less. And you knew that over time it wouldn’t feel anything like this anymore. There would always be love and that was the best part of all, “thank you for always there for me.”

“I told you,” he tenderly brushed your hair out of your face, “I’m here forever. With you.”

“Forever with you sounds perfect to me, Steve Harrington.”

#steve harrington #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x fem!reader #steve harrinton imagine #steve harrington one shot #joe keery #tw: death

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pinkcutiepiee · 22 hours

Text

Playing with Steve’s Hair

Prompt: absentmindedly playing with their hair at all times from this list

Masterlist

Not really sure how i feel about this one tbh... i wrote it in like 10 mins... not a massive fan of it so i didn't proof read it

Synopsis; you like steve's hair

“Do you ever stop that?” Robin asks. At first, you don’t even realise she’s speaking to you. Not until you notice everybody's eyes on you and Steve.

Completely oblivious to what she is referring to, you ask, "Stop what?" She scoffs at how naive you appear towards your actions, pointing to your hand playing comfortably in Steve's hair.

"I didn't even realise I was doing it, honestly," you admit, but you couldn't help but notice how comfortable Steve looked under your touch, and you were quite surprised to realise you were. Even more so to realise you do it enough for your friend to make a point of it.

That was a month ago. And although you are now aware of your habit, you cannot seem to stop. His hair is so soft, you'd even describe it as majestic. It feels natural to run your fingers through it at every moment possible.

Sometimes, you will even twirl his soft strands between your fingers, savouring the soft feeling. As you do, you admire the way he practically melts into your touch the second your hand and his hair make contact; which comes naturally at this point.

"mm, baby, don't stop," he mumbles, as you massage his scalp, both cuddled on the couch, drifting off into a peaceful slumber.

#stranger things #steve harrinton x reader #steve harrington blurb #steve harrington fluff

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hawkinsindiana · 2 years

Text

okay. deal.

ALMOST PARADISE: PART FOUR - CHAPTER SIX OF NINE

pairing: steve harrington x henderson!reader

word count: 13.5k (THE MOTHERLOAD)

a/n: holy fucking fuck. literally the most ridiculous chapter i have ever written. INSANITY. can’t believe i’m about to say this but... this chapter is rated 18+. while there’s no actual smut, the scene is sexually charged, so for the sake of being safe, that’s why i’m using the ranking and the tags i am. also warning for intense and graphic descriptions of medical treatments and just genuine horrible angst bc you know me. OKAY I THINK THAT’S ENOUGH but huge quick shoutout to ms. ruby for helpin me make this steamy :). y’all know where to find the masterlist! ENJOY HEHEHE.

“Max? I need those bandages!”

“Here, sorry. Didn’t know what size you needed so… I brought all of them.”

Max quickly shoves the collection of bandages into Steve’s hands. He thanks her quickly; he’s trying to run through the check list in his head.

“Do you have, what the hell is it, that peroxide stuff?”

After a moment of thinking, Max’s face scrunches up with regret, “Shit, no I don’t. I ran out a couple weeks ago. Nasty fall off some stairs downtown.”

Steve curses under his breath — that’s what he needs the most. A lightbulb goes off in Max’s head, the idea propelling her through the living room and into the kitchen. She appears a few seconds later with a bottle clasped in her fist, amber liquid sloshing around inside the glass.

“I guess this is the one time Mom’s drinking will be beneficial.”

Steve sighs; it’ll have to do. He extends his free hand and wraps his fingers around the neck of the bottle to take it from her. As soon as his grip is firm, he spins to return to the bathroom — his heart is starting to ache, he’s been away from you for too long. It’s maybe been five minutes, but with you in this state, it feels like it’s been much longer.

Robin is crowded inside the small room with you. The girl is nervously running her palm down your arm, attempting to comfort you until Steve arrives with the rest of the medical supplies. It’s not working too well — Robin’s notoriously bad at reassurance during stressful situations. On the other hand, Robin’s smart enough to know that your brother shouldn’t see too much of you like this. Dustin and Lucas are in the doorway, her body angled just right to prevent either of them from seeing more than a sliver of your face.

Sweat drips down your skin, coating you in a light sheen despite the grime that also sticks to you like glue. Crumpled on the floor, your limbs tremble and shiver without Eddie’s jacket to keep you warm anymore. The second Steve deposited you here, he returned it back to the other boy in preparation. Stabilizing you became his top priority the moment you crossed over into Hawkins once again.

Thankfully, it’s not blood loss that’s got you reacting this way — it’s pain, continuing to radiate from the wounds on your back and shoulder, the pounding in your head worsening now that there’s light surrounding you. The exertion from the back leg of your journey through the Upside Down exhausted what little energy you still had left; the events from the past couple hours all combined into an awful cocktail inside your veins.

Steve pushes past Lucas and Dustin without much thought, his mind purely dedicated to returning to you. Max follows behind and hovers near the other boys in the doorframe.

“Hey sweetheart, I’m back. I’m here, okay?” He speaks quietly, setting the assorted items into the sink before reaching out to you. The skin of your cheek is clammy against the back of his index finger; the soft touch brings you out of your agony, even for just a split second. Steve’s crouched beside you, desperately trying not to let his overwhelming despair show on his face.

He turns away for a moment to snatch the Tylenol off the counter — four pills into his palm before he’s grabbing one of your wrists. Steve doesn’t particularly care what the warning label says, he needs to get a buffer for this pain in your system. Instinctively, you unfurl your fist before he easily passes the painkillers to you; a gulp of lukewarm water from Dustin’s plastic bottle sends it to your stomach.

“I’m gonna move you now, yeah?” Steve mumbles, shifting to weasel an arm around your back, “I know. I know baby, I’m sorry. You gotta- there you go.”

Whimpers spill from you as he scoots your body further from the wall, giving him more space to work with. Your eyes pinch shut until you’re settled, or until Steve can’t stand the pained sounds anymore — it’s hard to tell which comes first.

“Do you, uh, want any help?” Robin offers hesitantly. Not because she thinks she’d be of much use, but because she can already tell that this has taken a toll on Steve — seeing you so weak and desperate for relief. He shouldn’t have to do this on his own.

Steve genuinely considers Robin’s assistance for a moment; having an extra set of hands could make this process significantly easier. But this… this isn’t like you’ve gotten a scratch on your knee; it’ll be painful for anyone who watches. She shouldn’t have to see this.

Besides, Steve’s pretty sure he’s the only one he trusts enough to take proper care of you. He might not be as adept as you at this sort of thing, but that doesn’t mean he’s incapable. He knows what to do, which order to apply everything in; he helped you recover from your gunshot wound last summer. He can do this.

There’s no one else you would want to help you through this. You trust him enough to allow him to hurt you.

“Thanks Robin, but I think it’s best if it’s just me,” Steve finally answers. He makes the mistake of glancing over towards the door, meeting the eyes of three dejected teens. Dustin’s gaze is glued to the small bit of you he can see, face contorted in a mixture of sadness and guilt; he never should have let you get on that boat. It’s a little easier for Lucas and Max to hide their concern, but there’s still a glint of it in their eyes, furrowed brows giving it away. Steve gets a major case of déjà vu.

With a final pat on your arm, Robin gets up from the ground and ushers the teens away from the door. They don’t even try to fight her — that argument’s already been had. Steve would never dare to let any of them help, even though they desperately want to. Dustin takes one last glance before letting Robin lead him away with a comforting hand on his shoulder as even more sadness creeps in.

When she latches the door, Steve gets to work.

He doesn’t think you have the energy or strength to stand, although that’d be ideal, so the floor will have to do. As quickly as he can, he collects everything Max had given to him and begins placing it onto the tile, unpeeling wrappers and loosening caps as he goes. You taught him that — it’s significantly easier to do this sort of work when everything’s already opened. He washes his hands and finally settles on the ground behind you, face to face with your wounds. You can’t sense much of his presence behind you, but knowing he’s there is enough of a comfort.

Steve sighs. He has to resist the urge to bury his face in his palms before he begins. As much as he’d rather attempt to hug you better, or just press an endless number of kisses to your skin, he knows what has to come first. There’s a significant chance that this is the hardest thing he’ll ever have to do — hurt you in order to help you.

Much to Steve’s surprise, you don’t make too much noise as he removes the makeshift bandage. Maybe you’re too far gone to care. The sting doesn’t cross your mind when the true pain lies even deeper beneath your skin — aches that will take more than Tylenol to quell. He reaches up to discard the piece of Robin’s shirt into the sink, desperately trying not to think about how much of your blood has soaked into the fabric.

Steve’s lucky Max has a decent selection of medical supplies to choose from. The problem is that he’s trying to work fast and put you through as little as possible. If you weren’t already reeling from searing pain, he’d take his time and give you as many breaks as he could. He’s more focused on preventing infection than doing a truly thorough job — that can come later.

Cleansing the claw marks earns him nothing more than a few hisses from your lips; it’s uncomfortable but a mere fraction in comparison to what you’re currently feeling or have experienced before. The scratches are the easy part. It’s the bite that’s going to be far, far worse.

Steve can’t help himself — even though it’ll make his job significantly more difficult, he has to offer one of his hands, sliding it through the gap between your arm and waist. A moment passes before you finally take it between yours, like you had to summon the small amount of energy it would take to move. Your grasp is weak, fingers barely clinging to him, but it’s enough. The minuscule comfort calms both of you, the weight of the conjoined hands on the muscle of your thigh serving as a solace.

Max’s dining room is filled with the dread of a hospital, relatives and loved ones crowded together waiting impatiently for a scrap of news. You and Steve do a fairly decent job of keeping your heads in the midst of chaos; an unfortunate skill you’ve had to learn. But seeing how hurt you were, how delicately Steve led you from the gate, and how beside himself he was through it all — the others are left reeling. Steve’s never been this upset. You’ve never been this fragile. The rest of the group almost feels lost. If you two can’t keep it together, how are they supposed to?

Not much sound has echoed from behind the closed door of the bathroom; inflections of Steve’s voice coaxing you or a rare response from you, mixed with an occasional sniffle or two, has been the extent of it. So when you finally cry out in pain, a sign that the worst of it has begun, they’re thankful for Steve’s original stubbornness. The sound makes Robin clasp her hands over her ears. Dustin’s face pinches, cringing intensely at how you immediately begin to cry. Lucas has to get up from his place at the kitchen table and start pacing slowly. Max’s grip on her arms tightens.

Your lip is quivering uncontrollably, tears now rolling down your cheeks in addition to everything else. You didn’t think the pain could get worse, but it exponentially does as Steve dabs the bite with an alcohol soaked cloth. The hold on his hand is of bruising strength despite sweat clinging to your skin, making it tough to keep a firm grip. A sob crawls out of your throat, words deciding to materialize.

“Steve, I can’t… I can’t do it. It hurts too much.”

“I know. I know, baby,” He mumbles back to you, trying to force back the tears at his lash line from the sight of you in such pain, “I gotta clean it, okay? I know it hurts but it’ll get worse if I don’t. Just hold on for me, yeah? A little while longer.”

Heartbreakingly, the semblance of a nod dips your chin down to your chest. You punctuate it with a whisper, “Okay.”

Steve nearly breaks right then and there. He’s taking care of you, he reminds himself. This has to be done.

While he wants to finish this task as soon as possible, he has to pause for a second. A trail of blood has begun to drip from the wound; Steve switches to a clean rag to wipe it away. The whiskey sloshes inside the glass bottle as he takes this opportunity to refresh the alcohol on the other. His hold on your hand remains unwavering.

You let out a particularly agonizing shout when he, as gently as he can, forces the cloth a little bit deeper into the muscle. Your head pounds, fuzzy and ears buzzing, eyes pinched shut as he continues. You’ve probably got two minutes before you black out from the pain.

Steve swallows harshly. His thoughts are scrambled, only thinking of how much he wishes he didn’t have to do this. In a moment of clarity, he stops mumbling assurances and asks you a question instead.

“What’s the apartment like? Tell me about our home. Big windows? The kind that let the sun into the living room during the evenings? C’mon sweetheart, talk to me. Tell me everything.”

Something else to focus on. You squeeze your eyes even tighter, as if you’re trying to visualize it in front of you. It works — the front door, a deep maroon, appears in your mind.

“The a-apartment,” You stutter, huge gasps of air filling your lungs in between your sobs, “The kit-kitchen has a green oven and… and wooden cabinets.”

You stumble over your words, pain forcing its way out your mouth as Steve swiftly continues his work. Faintly you can hear him repeating it from behind you, sharing his thoughts but you don’t have the mind to take it in.

“The bedroom,” You mumble next, trying to hold onto that image in your head. Your bedroom, where you’ll come back to each other every day. Your bed, the first one that will belong to both of you, piled high with pillows and blankets despite always using each other to keep warm. You won’t have to wait to see your love on the weekends, you’ll get to return home to him every single day.

“There’s a balcony. It’s tiny but… but…”

The thought dissolves as your resolve crumbles, your shoulders curling into your chest, your head starting to tip forwards. A terrible whimper sounds from your throat as you feel pain begin to overtake your consciousness, darkness creeping in from your periphery. When Steve feels your grip go slack in his hand, he stops immediately, dropping the cloth to loop his arm across the front of your stomach.

Regretfully he removes his other hand from yours to grasp your bicep, preventing you from falling, “Hey. Hey, stay with me, okay? I’m done, we’re done. No more pain, I promise.”

You nod sluggishly, the relief of knowing it’s over is enough to keep you from completely passing out. Although his work isn’t finished, there’s no way Steve’s putting you through anymore of that. His skin aches as he removes his hands from you — like they were meant to be there — and makes quick work of the large bandage Max provided. You wince slightly as he lays it over the bite wound; exhaustion prevents you from reacting any further. Additionally, Steve dresses you in a dark tank also borrowed from Max. It’s a bit small, but now you get to protect more of your modesty without Steve having to see you in Eddie’s clothes. A necessary step in his mind.

The moment the fabric’s settled over your abdomen, he’s ushering you into his lap, finally able to comfort you in the way he prefers. Your arms loosely wrap around his ribs — even in this haze of pain, you’re still hyper aware of his own injuries, desperate not to touch his bandages. As you slump, falling straight into Steve’s chest, it’s like the sky inside you opens up. You sob.

You’re tired, so fucking tired. Tired of this life you lead, tired of the trauma that haunts your every step, tired that something else has come between you and a normal life once again. You’ve suffered so much more than you deserve, Steve has suffered so much more than he deserves. The apartment, the symbol of domesticity for the pair of you, seems further and further away. You’ll never get it in the same way others do, even if the day finally comes. You and Steve will always be tortured by this and what’s happened to you, no matter how hard you try to forget. That fact feels so ridiculously, absurdly, disgustingly unfair. You two deserve that too.

There’s nothing Steve can do except sit here crumpled on the bathroom floor with you. He whispers assurances, apologies, literally anything he can think of to try and make this better. He understands the feeling far too well to try and stop you from crying; Steve doesn’t dare interrupt.

Once you’ve gone quiet and your hiccups and gasps for air have stopped, he waits for you to move first. When that moment doesn’t come after several minutes, Steve glances down to gauge how you’re feeling. What he finds is far from what he expects — you’re fast asleep.

Steve has a rule never to wake you. With your nightmares and everything in between, he knows how tired your body can grow when you’re forced to neglect your sleep. He’s seen it far too often; you fall asleep when you’re with him half the time. He likes to think that’s because he makes you feel safe. Whether it’s on top of him, beside him, or on the opposite side of the bed, Steve will never rouse you. You’re a rather light sleeper now; the fear of something occurring while you’re dreaming has created this habit in you. A small touch to your skin or a shift beneath you can bring you out of slumber with ease.

So when Steve’s arms instinctively tighten around you and there’s nothing but a flutter of your eyelashes in response, it speaks to the depth of your exhaustion. He runs his thumb along the swell of your cheek; this rest is well deserved.

It’s gone far too quiet. The others have resorted to glancing between each other as they continue to wait; Eddie and Lucas have taken seats next to Dustin on the couch, hoping their presence is enough to comfort your brother. Nancy remains outside, where she retreated after her horrifying experience with Vecna; it’ll take a couple hours to process everything he showed her before sharing with the group. The girls have taken over the dining table — Robin and Erica sat beside each other, Max on the opposite side.

Dustin’s a minute away from throwing the bathroom door open to see what’s happening now, but it swings in on its hinges before he can. A few of their faces go ashy at the sight of you limp in Steve’s arms, one slung across your back with the other tucked under your legs. He quickly reassures them, voice hushed, “S’okay. Just sleeping.”

Heartbroken doesn’t even begin to describe the feeling that washes over the group, but especially the teens. You’ve always been strong, even before Will disappeared; seeing you like this is new.

Dustin and Erica were with you as you led the rescue attempt for Robin and Steve. Not even a bullet wound could slow you down. Then in the fall of ‘84 when a broken hand and a concussion didn’t stop you from helping the others distract the Mind Flayer. Vecna finally broke you.

“Is there, uh, somewhere I can-”

“Yeah, yeah. Of course,” Max interrupts Steve and silently beckons for him to follow to her bedroom. It’s a bit messy, but that doesn’t matter to him; he just wants somewhere quiet for you to rest.

As gingerly as he can, Steve places you onto the mattress laying on your side, praying that you won’t attempt to roll over during your slumber. He pulls up a blanket at the foot of the bed and tucks it around your neck to keep you warm. You don’t move an inch through the whole process, your soft breaths continuing despite the movement.

Before he leaves, Steve brushes a few strands of hair away from your forehead and places a kiss to the skin. It lingers for a moment, like he’s wishing it’ll heal you instantly. Regretfully, an ounce of happiness blooms in him; he never gets to dish out affection while you’re asleep for fear of waking you. Doing something so simple as pressing his lips to your forehead while you dream shouldn’t be something that brings him joy. Especially with these circumstances.

When Steve turns, he’s met with the kids crowded in the doorframe. Well, they’re not kids anymore, but he swears he sees the same puny assholes they used to be, clad in frowns and sad worried eyes. It reminds him how long he’s been doing this — long enough to see them grow up right before his very eyes. His chest aches.

Quietly, he ushers them away and back into the hall. None of them protest, although they want to be with you right now. But before Dustin can move, Steve places a reassuring hand on his shoulder. He doesn’t need to speak for your brother to instantly understand. All Dustin can manage is a nod and a grateful smile in the hopes his tears don’t start again; his eyes are puffy and red around the edges. Silently, he enters Max’s bedroom while Steve briefly returns to the bathroom.

He’s pretty sure he could throw up, just vomit all over the sink. Some of your blood is on his hands, smeared and scarlett against his skin. He hates the sight. With a deep sigh and lips firmly pressed in a line, Steve washes it from his palms; he’s thankful it scrubs off easy. Unfortunately, something tells him this won’t be the last time he’s forced to patch you up. He wishes it didn’t have to be him.

Steve makes quick work of cleaning up after himself, discarding wrappers and soiled cloth into the trash can under the sink. He swallows two of the painkillers for himself — his wounds ache profusely, but he thinks he’ll be alright for a little while. What he wants to do more than anything is rest beside you. His chest burns once again at the thought; it’s been too long.

An absurd amount of worry and adoration sparks inside Steve when he shuts the door to Max’s room; Dustin’s taken the spot beside you on her mattress, sitting up against the headboard. He doesn’t feel like sleeping. Your brother’s face is wrought with concern and a smattering of other emotions, all of which Steve also feels brewing inside him. There’s nothing he thinks he could say to make this better — ‘she’s gonna be okay’ seems condescending and weightless. The truth is that yes, physically you’re probably going to be fine. Your body has healed before. Mentally… this could take quite a toll.

Steve drops to the ground and leans back against the nightstand, his arms balancing on top of his knees. From here, it’s easy for him to spot you out of the corner of his eye; with a slight turn of the head, he can see all of you. Aside from some mutters that echo from the room beyond, it’s completely silent. He can hear his own heartbeat growing slower and slower, adrenaline and shaky hands starting to melt away as he begins to relax; Steve clenches his fists once to steady them.

A rather deep exhale from you has his eyes darting to your sleeping form. As his gaze roves over your face, Demobat blood and dust splotched across your skin, the tempting allure of rest creeps up on him.

—

Steve doesn’t remember falling asleep. One moment he was watching over you and then the next Dustin’s hunched over him, poking him in the arm until he wakes. He blinks a couple times as he gains his bearings, mouth strangely dry, as Dustin informs him of what’s happening — Nancy’s ready to talk.

Under normal circumstances, Steve would let you rest and fill you in later; he has a feeling that whatever it is that’s been keeping Nancy preoccupied for the last few hours is crucial to the next step the group makes. Which unfortunately means he has to wake you.

Steve wants to be gentle so you’re not startled, but you need to get up. He sits down beside you and his hand grips where your hip is beneath the blanket — you haven’t moved since he placed you here. Your body only stirs a bit when he mumbles your name, so regrettably, he has to shake you slightly. A small whine leaves your throat as your eyes peel open; Steve crumbles at the sound. He moves his hand to your face, thumb gliding across your cheekbone as a comfort.

“I know, m’sorry, sweetheart,” He mutters before your irises lock onto him, “Nancy’s ready to tell us what she saw.”

As Steve helps you stand with an arm wrapped firmly around your waist, your focus is brought to the makeshift bandage around his abdomen; blood has started to seep through the fabric — shades of maroon and red nearly stop you in your tracks. The promise you made to him pops into your mind.

“Didn’t get to clean yours.”

He nearly laughs because of course you’re more worried about him than yourself. He opts for a small smile instead, choking back a groan as he straightens, “S’alright. It’s not that bad anymore.”

But Steve was right earlier; cleaning the injury has helped in the long run. While there’s still an ache in your muscles and the wound shoots with sharp pain if you move your shoulder too much, it’s not nearly as bad as it was before. The short nap has helped as well, your body less exhausted although you feel like you could still sleep for hours. You want him to have the same relief, especially as you notice his face pinch as the pair of you begin to move. He’s lying to you. You visibly pout at the thought.

Steve sighs. He does adore how much you love taking care of him. He gives in.

“I’ll let you take a look later, okay? I promise. Let’s hear what Nancy has to say, yeah?”

With arms linked together as you sit on the couch, your hands clasped over the crook in his elbow, you receive the worst news you’ve ever heard.

You’re no longer fighting for your own lives, but for the lives of the entire town. Perhaps the world. Vecna plans to merge Hawkins and the Upside Down — a foreboding and tense feeling settles in the pit of your stomach. This is far more than you ever signed up for. Fighting a monster or two? Fine. Saving the town from complete and total destruction? You’re not even sure how to do that. But you do know one thing; Vecna has to be killed. You have to go back in.

It’s an awful idea — a sure fire way to get yourself and everyone you love slaughtered. But you think you’d hate yourself for the rest of your life if you didn’t try. You and this band of misfits are the only ones who can stop this, which is why you’re now helping Eddie Munson hotwire a Winnebago. Add that to the list of things you never thought you’d do. Sneaking into this poor unsuspecting couple’s trailer is incredibly sobering; with a new burst of adrenaline, you almost feel back to normal.

Eddie could probably do it himself, but considering the time crunch and the soon to be angry hicks outside, a little help wouldn’t hurt. To his surprise, you manage to strip your wire slightly faster than him; all that tinkering with your brother has paid off. It’s enough to impress.

“Shit, you’re pretty good with your hands, Henderson. Is that a uh-”

Eddie clears his throat, smirking since he knows what he’ll be walking into — your boyfriend is looking over both your shoulders. He can’t help himself. Seeing Steve Harrington squirm and bunch up with jealousy is sort of hilarious.

“That a transferable skill or…?”

Before Steve can say anything, you’re laughing as you hand the wire back to him, “Oh I don’t know, why don’t you ask Stevie?”

Steve would be kind of mad that you so openly flirted with Munson in front of him if he wasn’t a bit shocked by the fact that he liked it.

“Stevie, huh? That’s cute,” Eddie immediately answers, forcing Steve’s brow to lift just slightly higher; he liked that more than he was expecting too. Robin watches on in disgust and confusion, her cheeks pinched as her gaze darts between the three of you.

The moment’s short lived as Eddie starts up the RV, the engine igniting and shaking your surroundings. Steve is forced to quell the raging blush that’s beginning to rise up his neck and practically throws himself into the driver’s seat; Robin and Eddie retreat back to the others while you take the passenger’s. You have to resist the urge to spit out directions as you speed away from the trailer park, Steve’s foot firmly on the gas.

The panic doesn’t wear off until Steve chuckles in disbelief to your left, head shaking slightly as he drives further from the scene of the crime.

“Now that’s the stupidest thing we’ve ever done.”

You laugh along with him in agreement, nodding profusely, “I can’t believe you’re driving someone’s house right now.”

“Y’know it’s not so different from the BMW, Henderson,” He replies smartly. Knowing it’ll get a reaction out of you, he glances over briefly before he has to refocus on the road; his tone and the mention of his rich boy car earns him a small scoff and a roll of the eyes.

“Well if you ever want a break, I can take over for a bit,” You add after a pause, casting your gaze out the window, “Just let me know.”

Steve’s chest warms at your offer; it’s stupid how much he loves you.

“Thanks baby, but I got it,” He spares another couple seconds to look at you again, fully curled up against the fabric seat with your arms wrapped around your knees. Steve couldn’t dare ask you to unfurl from yourself; you look genuinely relaxed like this.

“I’ve kind of always wanted to drive one of these things around anyways,” He continues immediately, removing one of his hands from the wheel to wave his fingers through the air.

You tilt your head back over towards him, shifting in your seat to turn a bit closer. The sun is streaking through the trees, casting the shadows of leaves onto your cheekbones as he drives. The dark splotches glide over your skin before the RV rolls across a brief patch of pasture; the sun bounces through your irises, now intently focused on him, the color highlighted perfectly.

Steve swallows, forcing his eyes back to the expanse of road in front of him. Fuck.

Your voice is light, a little teasing, “Is it everything you hoped for?”

“Eh, different circumstances, but…” He trails off, his tone matching yours, “It’s not so bad.”

“What do you wanna drive an RV around for? Are we going to a tailgate or something? Camping?”

Your humoring gets a small chuckle out of him, his eyes checking the rear view mirror — he adjusts it momentarily, “Sure, if you want, but I’ve always wanted to go on a road trip.”

Steve sees your face brighten slightly in his periphery, a smile growing at the thought. Touring the states in a Winnebago is so American and cliché it’s adorable. You don’t speak; you can tell he has more to say.

“It’s always been a, uh, dream of mine to do this with…”

He pauses for a second, nearly shrinking in his seat. He’s never told you this before. He doesn’t know why he suddenly finds it a touch embarrassing.

Steve licks his lips, brow furrowed for a moment as he collects himself. His voice is softer than before — nostalgic or sheepish, you can’t tell.

“To do it with a big family or something, I guess. A few kids probably.”

Your face creases a bit in shock. You don’t know why it surprises you, “Really?”

Now smiling at the thought, Steve nods. His excitement picks up with your interest; the words flow out of him much easier.

“Oh yeah, like a whole brood of Harringtons runnin’ around. A few lil’ nuggets, like five or six kids-”

“SIX?” You can’t help but sputter, eyes widening in pure shock. He laughs a bit at your outburst, darting his focus back to you for a second, “What’s so wrong with that?”

“Steve, my uterus hurts just thinking about it! Oh my g-”

You abruptly cut yourself off; you assumed he’d be talking about you.

You and Steve haven’t discussed the future at all, outside maybe a couple of months in advance. With your college education being a factor to consider, the most you two ever discussed were weekend getaways or plans for the holidays. Even with him now moving in with you, it was about getting to spend more time together, not necessarily promising a future. The decision was a natural progression for your relationship — you like it in the city, Steve hates it in Hawkins when you’re not there. Why not come with?

There never seemed to be anything wrong with that. You started dating in high school, when you were teenagers — the big picture wasn’t something to worry about, not when you’re young. You’re not much older now, but your lives are different. There’s more responsibility you have to consider, and in turn it has made both of you more mature. This is uncharted territory.

Early on in your relationship, Steve had decided not to think too far ahead. With Nancy, he had gotten the better of himself and pictured their life together years in advance, wondering what it’d be like when things were allowed to be normal for once. In the end, that was one of the most detrimental aspects of their relationship. Enough so that when it came time for you, Steve forced himself into the present. He forced himself to take everything one day at a time, worried that he’d get carried away again and ruin what you two have. He learned to meet trauma head on instead of hiding from it, which actually wasn’t a difficult change to make — especially when it helps you more than you can articulate.

Suddenly, Steve goes several shades of red. In all the years he’s dreamed of himself having kids, he doesn't know how he never pictured that it’d be with you. You… the mother of his children. That image, the mere thought, has him swallowing harshly.

The way you interact with the teens should’ve been a dead giveaway. You’d be an amazing mom.

His hands tighten around the steering wheel. Of course it’d be you. He doesn’t… he doesn’t think he wants to do it with anyone else.

Steve desperately tries to forget about the flush in his cheeks and the thought of sharing a family with you, but he can’t help but get lost in the daydream for a moment.

They’d have his warm eyes and your brilliant smile, the classic Henderson curiosity lighting a fire beneath their tousled curls. They’d be wicked smart, just like you. Perfect mixtures of you and Steve — the best parts. But most importantly, they’d be protected from all of this, kept so far away from the horrors you two have experienced that it’d be like none of it ever happened at all.

It takes another second for either of you to speak again.

Steve clears his throat, unable to summon the courage to look over at you. His grip on the wheel tightens even further, “But uh, I-I figured all of us Harringtons would rent somethin’ like this and just… go see the country. All of us, just for a couple weeks in the summer.”

“Take them to see the Rockies or that big geyser thing. Or Yellowstone maybe. The Space Needle? I don’t know… whatever they want. We’d go to all of it. End up parked on some beach in California, maybe learn how to surf or something.”

He almost feels guilty imagining doing this with you. He doesn’t even know if you’d want that with him — a family. After all, you’re the one in college. You’re going to be searching for a career in a couple of years. It’s silly to be thinking about something so serious as having kids when you have the rest of your lives ahead of you. Well, granted you survive the next couple of days.

Steve’s right, it is silly. But there’s also a huge chance that you don’t make it out of this alive. You think you want to have something to fight for, something more than just an apartment with him in the city. You’ve never really thought about what would come next, but you suppose-

“That does sound nice.”

The words spill from you before you can think. But it’s not a lie. You think you want a life with him. The idea of you and Steve pouring an abundance of love into some children — your children — living proof of your pure devotion to one another… you should be combusting due to how quickly your face heats.

Steve can’t help it. He has to look over at you. He meets your gaze instantly, drawn to you like moths to a flame, like his soul is tethered to yours. He’s searching your eyes for something, although he’s not quite sure what. Maybe honesty, perhaps excitement. He’s a tad too overwhelmed at the concept of having children with you to think properly.

“You think so?”

You nod — a silent promise. You want to do it with him.

“Yeah, I do.”

Steve blinks. You do too. He feels delicate despite the raging thoughts swarming through his mind. Everything around him seems trivial with your eyes locked like this, two colors that could be passed onto mini versions of yourselves. It’s unfair he has to look away. It’s unfair he can’t reach you from here. It’s unfair that all this could be is just a stupid dream, something to keep you moving until you’re cut down and bleeding out. It’s unfair that it might never happen.

Even though this is something you’ve wanted for only about thirty seconds, your heart aches at the possibility of getting to do it — getting to raise kids with your love and be the family both of you deserved but never got. God, you want it so bad. You didn’t think you could want something this much. You want to give Steve the chance to do something more with himself, be a father and nurture. He’d be so good at it too; it’s almost like he was made for it. Made to give love like it’s easy, like it’s a fierce instinct inside him he’s pushed down for far too long. You never want him to have to do that ever again. Not while you have him.

“Except… maybe two,” You say, shyly breaking the silence that crawled between you. You keep your voice low to ensure it stays between the both of you, “Two kids, I mean.”

Another smile starts to pull at Steve’s lip, far more gentle than anything else as he continues to stare at the highway in front of him, “Two, huh?”

You shrug slightly as you find yourself drifting further into this dream, joy filling your every limb, “Yeah. And maybe a cat or something.”

“What if I want a fish?”

“A fish? Wha-”

You can’t help but laugh in surprise; Steve looks over once again. After a few moments of falsely pondering in thought, as if you wouldn’t give him anything he asked, you answer, “Okay, fine. We can do both.”

We. He doesn’t know if you meant to say it, but it makes his heart do something funny inside his chest.

He exhales as his hands shift on the steering wheel, “Two kids, a cat, and a fish.”

Steve repeats it like he’s speaking it into the universe, manifesting it to occur in a few years — one of these times, something good’s going to happen to you. The idea of your little family indents itself into his brain, tattooed in golden ink. Steve won’t give up until he gets it with you.

You nod in agreement, “Yeah, that sounds…”

Amazing. Perfect, even.

“Reasonable.”

Steve huffs and shakes his head at your word choice, rolling his eyes just enough to get a giggle out of you. His grin grows impossibly wider as he thinks about it for a second. Anything, literally any type of future with you sounds like the best thing he’s ever heard.

He nods too, “Okay. Deal.”

A beaming smile, the kind that’s hard to hide, curves your lips in record time. You have to drop your chin and turn away before you can begin to smother it, the pads of your fingers ghosting over your face as you come to a startling conclusion: you and Steve want a future together.

—

The War Zone parking lot is packed to the brim. You don’t know why you’re surprised — with tensions rising in Hawkins due to Eddie’s disappearance and rumors of a demonic cult, it makes sense that the surrounding citizens would flock to arm themselves. You’re also in rural Indiana, which also means it could be busy just because.

Steve doesn’t like the idea of you staying in the RV with the Hellfire Club members while he goes in with the others — he can’t really stand the thought of leaving you right now. But Dustin’s right; if the basketball team’s looking for him, there’s a decent chance you’re on their list too. It’s not worth the risk.

“Get me some good stuff, yeah?” You say quietly, your fingers dancing across the skin of his forearm. Steve’s crouched beside the passenger seat with his palm smoothing over your calf, your legs still bunched up into your chest. He only lets a hint of his worry show on his face, his brows slightly furrowed with a small frown; he really really doesn’t want to leave you. He’d rather just crawl onto the seat and bury his head into your shoulder.

Steve scoots a bit closer, his hand hooking around the back of your knee as if it’ll keep him near you forever, “I’ll be right back, okay?”

You melt at the desperation in his voice; you can hear how much this pains him, even though you won’t be far for very long. You nod softly, the press of your fingers engraving the texture of your skin onto his. With your free hand, you reach over to brush a chunk of hair away from his cheek, “I know, Steve.”

Steve’s lucky Robin is in the middle of distracting the others with her rambling when he leans over to kiss you; his palms rise to caress your head between his hands, a firm but careful grip. It doesn’t last long, but you’re still breathless when he pulls away — everything the pair of you have been feeling over the last few hours is exchanged between your lips. You spy it in his eyes as well, a familiar intensity blooming in his pupils that’s mirrored in yours as well. Your gaze darts down to his cupid’s bow for a moment, half expecting him to kiss you once more but it never comes. Instead, Steve clenches his jaw as he tries to banish the influx of thoughts and urges that invade his mind.

It’s tough to resist but he’s helped by Robin calling for him; you don’t breathe again until Steve’s touch leaves you. Something about that felt different than it used to, like there’s words still left unsaid and feelings still unprocessed. Maybe you’re just craving the closeness and his skin on yours — it has been a few days since you had time strictly to yourselves. But whatever it is, it makes you feel like you’re burning.

Several minutes after Steve exits with the other girls, Eddie saddles up beside you. Although you’re parked on the side of the building and out of view from most patrons, he makes an effort to stay below the base of the windshield. He tosses an elbow over the armrest connected to the driver’s seat.

Eddie gestures blankly in the air between you, “Are you… alright?”

“Yeah, I’m a bit better now, thanks,” You reply, shifting your focus from out the window to him. His hair’s a little wild — wilder than usual — due to the lake water and from him fiddling with it. A few strands are twisted together, almost like he tried and failed to braid them.

“How about with the, um…”

Eddie doesn’t really know how to bring up the topic, so he’s lucky you’re smart enough to understand what he means; the realization flickers across your face.

“Right, uh, not gonna lie I kind of forgot about that,” You answer with a light laugh in your tone, “Considering what’s happened in the past few hours, that seems like the least important thing I should be worrying about.”

Eddie scoffs to himself — it should be obvious to him that you’re barely thinking about that. You’ve been through a lot since your conversation with him in the woods. He feels a little stupid for bringing it up now.

“Of course, yeah. I just…” He trails off, a clink of his rings echoing through the air as he brings his hands together, “Just wanted to make sure we were cool after that. Pretty sure Harrington wants to kill me now.”

That gets a proper laugh out of you. At the thought of your love, you instantly cast your eyes out to the sprawling concrete like it’ll cause him to appear in front of you. You miss him.

“Steve’s really protective of those he loves,” You smile, feeling beyond overwhelmed that you get to include yourself in that group of people, “Trust me, you’re not the one he’s holding a grudge for.”

Instinctively, you trace your thumb along the back of your left hand. It falls into a small divot below one of your knuckles — a section of your skin that never grew back quite right. There’s not a day that goes by where you don’t regret him. All it brought you was anger and sleepless nights, terrifying dreams and painful memories you still haven’t healed from, like an unclosed tomb that won’t let you mourn what you lost.

Eddie might not be the sharpest tool in the shed, but he can read through the lines when he has to. He remembers the brace on your hand and the bruises on Harrington’s face. It was obvious that Billy had been the cause of the boy’s injuries, especially when he practically bragged about it, but he never figured Hargrove could’ve been responsible for yours as well. Suddenly it hits him — Billy Hargrove did a lot more damage to you than spreading a few rumors.

Before either of you has the opportunity to speak again, the door to the RV bursts open and the rest of your group piles in, plastic bags filled to the brim with all manner of supplies. It’s ridiculous how warm you feel when Steve takes his place in the seat beside yours; all he’s able to offer you as a greeting is a loving smile before he’s changing the gears and speeding off in a hurry. He shouts something back to your brother in argument as you start to peek through the bags placed by your side.

There’s a larger selection of medical supplies, meant for use in the event of any more injuries and to tend to those previously sustained. One is filled with bundles of thick clothes, another with a smattering of assorted items to make molotovs — gasoline cans, liquor bottles, and cheap t-shirts to slice up. Bullets knock against each other as you search a fourth bag and you instantly grow tense; you can spot Nancy’s shotgun out of the corner of your eye, making you worried what they could’ve gotten you in your absence.

Steve watches as the anxiety creeps up behind you like a shadow. He runs the back of his hand along his jaw, a light wash of stubble beginning to coat his skin, “Robin has your stuff. She insisted on finding you an outfit.”

Instantly, Robin materializes behind you, as if she was just waiting for someone to bring it up. As bubbly as ever, she pulls out a military green flight suit and a thick protective vest to be worn on top. She also hands you a thigh sheath, already containing a decently sized hunting knife, before passing over a much larger one. It’s a large machete bound in a brown leather sling with a wooden grip; it’s a bit too big for your hand but you’ll manage. As if she already thought of this, Robin finally reveals a set of fingerless gloves to assist with your grip on the weapon.

“Nance wanted to get you a handgun but I… figured this was probably a better idea,” Steve says as Robin returns back to the others. Your eyes dart over to him and you’re now able to properly take in his outfit change. It’s stupid how hazy it makes you feel — the sight of your boyfriend clad in the warm browns and greens of leather and camouflage. He looks strong, tough for the journey ahead. The contrast of his exterior with the soft vulnerability you know lies within has you swallowing harshly; it doesn’t help that Steve understood what you needed and pushed for another way for you to defend yourself. To say you’re overwhelmed would be an understatement.

“Thank you,” You whisper as you outstretch your hand to him with a grateful grin spreading across your face. Steve takes it immediately, his warm fingers curling around the side of your palm. As a response, he smiles too and leans over to press a kiss to the mark on the back of your palm. Your cheeks heat from the gesture.

After nearly thirty minutes of driving, Steve parks the RV off a deserted stretch of highway; the next exit isn't for another few miles, no one should find you all the way out here. As the group begins to stir, grabbing the supplies they’ve acquired, you stop Steve with a hand to his arm.

“Can I patch you up now?”

Right — Steve nearly forgot the promise he made to you. He nods once before lifting the bags he holds, “Yeah, of course. Just lemme drop these off outside.”

You’re taking stock of the contents below the sink when he enters a couple minutes later and shuts the door behind him. You’ve found a half-used roll of paper towels and some spare rags that seem clean enough. As you start to wash your hands, Steve peels off the jacket with ease and drapes it over the small booth.

“Alright, Henderson,” He says before yanking the shirt off by the back of the collar, “Where do you want me?”

You sweat your brain short circuits. Luckily, you gain your thoughts back to reply fairly quickly, but Steve knows you better than he knows himself. The miniscule drop of your jaw, slight pause of your hands beneath the water, and the pass of your eyes across his chest did not go unnoticed.

“The couch is fine,” You answer as you try to forget about the warmth in your stomach. You’re unsuccessful — you have to push out a deep exhale while drying your hands. The tension’s building inside your body with nowhere to go.

You’re almost jealous Steve gets to relax against the back of the cushions while you tend to him, but all you want is for him to be comfortable through this. Using a foldable beach chair Robin found stashed beneath the bench, you situate yourself in front of him, one of his legs between both of yours. You instruct him to grip your knee if he has to, which he does instantly, his fingers a tantalizing pressure as you continue to prepare. Steve watches you patiently.

You sigh and glance up to his eyes, which pinch shut in anticipation as you begin to untie the fabric around his wounds. Steve gulps as the final layer is peeled away, exposing the bites to the air for the first time in hours. You have to push away the instinct to tear up at the sight of his stomach smeared with his blood and littered with injuries. Rather than dwell on it for too long, you get to work.

It doesn’t take long to wipe away the blood on his skin, thankfully — Steve doesn’t react much other than a short grimace when the damp cloth passes over a rather sensitive spot. As you soak a gauze pad in the disinfectant, you finally speak again.

“This is gonna hurt,” You mutter, moving to re-adjust closer to him, your hand hovering over one of the bites, “I should know.”

Steve lets out a noise similar to a strained chuckle, his neck tensing as he anticipates the pain to begin; he realizes you’re waiting for him to give the okay. He nods, “Just do it.”

As soon as the alcohol is pressed to his torn skin, Steve winces, his jaw clenching immediately. You watch his reactions intently, ready to stop at a moment’s notice. Your free hand tapping his leg forces his head up from the back of the couch, “Don’t bite down on your teeth like that, baby. You’ll break ‘em.”

A whimper of pain leaks into his sigh as you continue to dab the gauze around the edge of the wound. Steve runs both his hands over his face in exasperation, trying to remember and focus on your words, “Right, right. Sorry.”

You laugh a bit at his apology. When he lets out a particularly restrained curse, brows tightly creased, you know that it’s time for a break.

Even though you’ve paused, his stomach continues to clench, the waves of pain still rolling through his body. When Steve drops one hand from his face, you grab it instinctively; it’s already warm and sweaty, another indication of the state he’s in.

“We’re gonna take as many breaks as you need, okay?” You assure him, tightening your grip on his hand as if it reinforces your words, “Anytime you need.”

You squeeze his fingers once more before preparing to continue the tedious work in front of you. This time, a choked whimper escapes Steve’s lips at the contact, his hand immediately back on your knee. You’re mumbling praises and comforts, not wanting to keep him in too much silence; Steve cuts you off, face still contorted in pain.

“Can…” He breathes through his gritted teeth, releasing them as he remembers your words, “Tell me about the apartment again. P-Please.”

You can’t help the heat that rises to your cheeks at his request. Given his current condition, you almost feel bad for being so giddy that he wants to know more about it. But you oblige, humming for a second as you think, tossing soiled gauze in the plastic bag.

“The walls in the bathroom are light blue, like the color of the sky today,” You say as you prepare another one, “The shower has a bathtub, which is very exciting and rare to find in the city.”

Steve can feel your words calming him down as he pictures every little detail you tell him. The cleaning goes quicker with your words with him seemingly distracted enough that you can work for longer before he needs a break. You save the details of the apartment for when you’re cleaning, and every break is the same; a rush of kisses to his hand, telling him how well he’s doing.

“There’s big windows, just like you said,” You add, a hint of a smile spreading on your face as you remember your first visit and switch your focus to the other bite, “You can see the park, and the sun comes into the kitchen in the afternoon.”

“The kitchen isn’t the biggest,” Your words continue, chewing your lip as you try to spring all the details back to your brain.

“Gr-green oven?” Steve asks, voice mostly breath.

“That’s the one. There might be room for some dancing maybe,” You grin up at him, referring to the many times Steve has swept you into his arms while waiting for the oven to ding, insisting on a waltz. His hand squeezes your knee — not in pain this time.

Steve can’t tell how long it’s been, his muscles aching from how they’ve been tensed for so long. While you’ve stopped using the disinfectant, you’re still working away at his stomach, fingers setting him alight when you graze his skin; it’s a type of fire he doesn’t mind. He shivers.

“Are you cold?” You speak up as you wrap his abdomen in a fresh layer of gauze. You must have felt his shudder. Steve shakes his head, tongue darting out to wet his lips. He’s having a tough time breathing with you taking care of him like this.

Steve feels his body relax in relief when you tape the bandage down, going a bit limp against the cushions, but the expression you carry stops him; you don’t seem finished.

“What? What is it?”

Your eyes rove over his skin before landing on his neck. You gesture to your own as you reply, “Your throat. I’m just gonna clean it up quickly.”

With the couch as deep as it is, you can’t reach him from here. An idea pops into your head that makes your heart beat a bit harder inside your chest. You sigh in defeat, knowing what you’re getting yourself into by doing this, before getting out of the chair.

Steve’s brow furrows in confusion until you throw one of your legs over his thighs. While you’re planning on hovering over him, his large hands instinctively reach for you and gently tug you down to rest on top of him. Both of you feel flustered by the proximity, regardless of how long you’ve been together. Your breath hitches with his fingers now pressing into your waist. Steve’s jaw slacks — he’s known for getting overwhelmed when you’re above him like this. Regardless, a boyish, proud grin pulls at his lips.

“You’re blushing.”

You scoff as the alcohol soaked gauze makes contact with the skin above his collarbone. You shake your head slightly as you tease, “Yeah, yeah. Be quiet.”

The way you’re taking care of him — almost in a controlling way — absolutely wrecks the man beneath you. He’s got no say in the matter, forced to let you tend to his wounds with nothing but love and care. God, if Steve doesn’t adore knowing how much you love him. But then again, you’re also nervous at the closeness, displaying the softer and shyer feelings you hold for him. He gets both from you at the same time?

“Stop that,” You mumble.

“What?”

When you glance down to him, you’re met with his loving eyes, the same ones you know you can never refuse. You have to swallow harshly to try and keep yourself in check.

“Stop looking at me like that,” You respond, remembering to swipe the gauze across his neck, “You’re distracting me.”

Steve’s brows raise, his grin growing once again, “Oh, I’m distracting? You got on top of me, y’know.”

You decide to bite your tongue, opting to continue working with nothing but a small smirk tossed his way. Steve doesn’t have the same thought — he clamps down on his lip for a moment before speaking, his voice low.

“Could use a distraction.”

His fingers move to the sides of your hips before dipping under your shirt to graze your skin. His chest burns delightfully as your expression falters, but you do your best to stay focused. The hand on his neck has paused, just for a moment before you steady yourself and continue despite his teasing touches.

Steve is glad the bruises on his neck don’t hurt nearly as much, but he was right — you provide the perfect distraction either way. His hands skim up, his nails scratching your ribcage. You inhale sharply.

“Steve…”

It’s supposed to be a warning. From the slight widening of his eyes, it definitely doesn’t come off that way.

The air is thick. It’s almost like you’re suffocating, throat closing up the longer you and Steve spend teasing each other with no crescendo. You’re not as strong as you thought — you drop your head a bit, your nose dangerously close to brushing against his. You need to kiss him, your eyes drifting closed.

After the day you’ve had, you feel this intense draw to each other, unlike any you have had before. Something’s different now, like your relationship’s shifted somehow. Maybe it’s the thought of making him the father of your children. Maybe it’s desperation after nothing more than a kiss or two for the last few days. Or even maybe it’s the fact you crawled out of an alternate dimension together, a place you could’ve lost each other to.

You’re both hesitating, no matter how badly you want this. If you start something… it could be difficult to stop.

Steve’s brain reminds him of something. His pupils are almost fully blown out as he stares up at you, “I locked the door behind you.”

The dam breaks — your lips are on Steve’s in a millisecond; he’s almost caught off guard by how quickly it happens. He snaps just as quickly and is kissing you back instantly. You’re discarding the paper towel, or cotton swab, or… whatever it was you previously held; your mind is far, far too fuzzy to remember. Your top priority is freeing both your hands, which settle down onto his bare shoulders.

Your breaths swirl together as one of his palms is removed from your back to cradle the nape of your neck. In a moment of courage, you tug slightly on his skin, a silent signal that you’d like to pull him up. He immediately understands, following you into a sitting position. The pain in his stomach doesn’t even cross his mind.

No, the only thing on Steve’s mind is your lips on his and your greedy hands, fingers digging into his shoulders in an attempt to bring him closer. He feels feverish — these kisses are hot and fast as opposed to the soft and slow ones that you usually share together. Both of you are spurring each other on, but not an ounce of passion is lost.

Steve’s hand on your waist grips you tighter, pulls you closer, and it forces another breath from you. The beginning of a whimper forms in your throat, your cheeks blazing as the sound escapes. His fingers slide into the hair at the base of your scalp as he moves his lips south, the warm press of his mouth finding its way under your jaw.

Anger surges beneath the desire that pools in his stomach. Steve thinks that he finally understands the foreign, sudden jealousy he’s been experiencing. As he sits here with your chest arching into him and his lips on your neck, the thought of literally anyone else, but especially Eddie Munson, getting to touch you the way he does makes him feel incredibly possessive.

To be quite honest, Steve’s not entirely sure how he feels about Eddie right now — there’s a lot of confusing thoughts running through his mind regarding that topic. But there’s one thing that he does know for certain.

You’re his. Steve only wants to be yours.

He only wants your wandering hands gliding across his skin, gripping tightly onto him when he pulls those beautiful sounds from you night after night. He only wants to hear your laugh in response to his terrible jokes, head thrown back in pure joy. He only wants your eyes to meet his from across the kitchen table, fully enamored with the domesticity of sharing a home-cooked meal together. He only wants your voice calming him from his horrific nightmares, tone full of understanding as you mumble gentle assurances. He only wants your lips brushing against his, smiling into his loving kiss.

Steve only wants you.

Instinctively, you tilt your head back for him; he knows where to go, which places to run his tongue and teeth along to earn those delicious mewls from your throat. Your hold on Steve tightens even further, hanging onto him as his mouth finds the spot on the side of your neck, almost close enough to reach your collarbone.

He mumbles something incoherent to you against your skin, his fingers on your head supporting you as you whine, Steve beginning to leave his mark on the expansive skin of your throat. Your hands grasp at his shoulders even more, fingernails embedding themselves in the muscles there. It’s getting to be too much.

Steve thinks he could do this all day, just to listen to the sounds you make when he brushes his tongue and teeth along your skin. Your entire neck is flushed, warm to the touch and he relishes in the darkening mark he’s left behind as he finally pulls back.

You’re his.

Your chest rises as you pant to get in some oxygen, head a little dizzy from the sensations you just experienced. Steve observes you with a proud grin, lips wet and eyes shining as he plants another kiss on your neck, then your jaw. You meet him in the middle, mouths melting into each other.

You still can’t get enough, drinking in the curve of his chapped bottom lip, the heat of his tongue — you pull back, trying to restrain from kissing him again when Steve chases your mouth.

“S’my turn,” You breathe, tilting your chin to gesture to his neck before you start littering your kisses along his jaw instead.

Steve swallows harshly as your lips descend further, his breaths beginning to quicken and you’ve barely begun. This — your teeth and mouth on his throat — is one of his favorite things. There’s no particular spot you have to search for because Steve likes everything. Wherever gets you the prettiest sound is where you’ll go to work. His hands are flexing and clenching in an attempt to control himself as you kiss along his neck, carefully avoiding any injuries.

It’s not until you reach a spot beneath his ear that you get the first groan, low and husky, and you can’t help but grin against him. A flare of pride sets you alight. You begin to suck on the skin, lips hot and soft. Steve curses, trying to restrain the noises building in his throat — there are some that could overhear after all. You’ll have to settle for whispers.

“Don’t stop,” He pleads, his palms sliding up the middle of your back; your shirt is caught on his wrists now, almost exposing your entire spine to the cooler air that surrounds you. It’s hard to tell if the goosebumps that litter your skin are from his touch or the sudden shift in temperature. He feels his skin growing hotter each second, desperate to envelop your lips in more searing kisses, but he’d be an idiot if he pulled you off him.

As Steve relaxes further into the sensation of your kiss-swollen lips on his throat, he finds it difficult to focus on one specific thing you’re doing; you’re all consuming. It’d be a disservice to you to only keep his attention on one element of your relentless teasing for so long.

Your hands have drifted from his shoulders, one firmly grasping his bicep and the other deeply twisting your fingers into the hair on the back of his head. His grip on your waist falters when you tug lightly at the strands in your fist, earning you another restrained whimper from him. The added pressure of your body on top of his doesn’t make this any easier; his head spins, especially when you shift your hips a bit to elongate your posture and continue biting at the determined spot.

Your nose bumps the shell of his ear every time you open your mouth; the light skimming is driving him insane in the best way. The light stubble that coats his jaw from the past couple days rubs against your soft cheek, further spurring you on in a way you can’t describe. Your fingers tighten in his hair.

His head finally falls backwards, completely giving in to your ministrations when your teeth not only pinch some of his red skin between them, but pull it away from his body. A full, unsuppressed groan vibrates his throat and fills the air; it goes straight to your abdomen in a pulse of electricity.

Steve barely recognizes the sound that you pulled from him, not particularly caring anymore if someone overheard. What’s the worst that could happen — he gets chewed out by Robin? He’d take that any day if it meant this happened prior.

Another curse spills from Steve; he shivers, a stream of cool air hits the growing mark, your lips pursed as you blow a small amount of your exhale onto it. You’re finally satisfied with the work you’ve done, pressing one more feather light kiss to the bruising skin before dragging your attention back up to him.

Steve’s eyes are still pinched shut, brow furrowed out of bliss; his face relaxes when your lips make contact with his chin, signaling your desire for further attention. He tilts his head back down, peeling open his eyes to see a smirk curling the corner of your mouth.

“How’d I do?”

You’re preening, still high off the sounds you were able to earn from him, glad to know that you did a good job in pleasing him. He can’t understand how you’re able to switch from some minx, leaving dark marks scattered across his skin, hips shifting dangerously in his lap to this: a bright gaze, cheeks flushed, begging for his praise.

He’s yours.

Steve actually manages to gather his thoughts enough to respond. His fingers splay out over your back as he quips, “I still don’t understand where you even learned how to do that.”

“That good, huh?” Your voice is laced with a chuckle, your eyes darting over his face as you brush a few strands of hair behind his ear. The moment is much softer than he was expecting, making his chest ache out of pure admiration for you. His voice is breathless, words mumbled as he cups the back of your head again, pulling you closer, “It was fucking fantastic.”

The kiss becomes heated immediately. There’s still this strong urge from your built up emotions, continuing to cloud your every judgment, especially as you continue to crave Steve’s skin on yours. He goes to whine in frustration when you pull your lips and touch away from him, only for you to grab the hem of your tank and tug it over your head.

Steve doesn’t know where to look as his hands frame the delicate lines of your ribcage. He’s nearly overstimulated by you — a common occurrence in situations like this.

In traditional fashion, he decides to make a joke. It’s an attempt to playfully bruise your ego a bit and give himself the high ground; you’re gorgeous, you’re perched on his lap, you just gave him the best hickey of his life, and now you’re topless.

He doesn’t know how he got so lucky.

“Y’know, this is a little less exciting now that Munson knows your bra color,” Steve pouts, lightly tracing his middle finger up the strip of your sternum before his palm settles at the base of your neck. Goosebumps erupt over your skin as he continues, his hand sliding across your collarbone to fiddle with the strap of your bra, “Thought that was supposed to be a reserved boyfriend privilege.”

You know he’s only joking; you can tell by the type of smile that toys at the end of his lips. The look in his eyes, those full blown pupils — you know how he really feels. Regardless, you can’t help the teasing scoff that his comment pulls from you, an attempt to try and rile him up as you play coy, “So? Robin saw it too.”

Steve pushes out a really deep exhale, trying to pretend like that doesn’t mean anything. He knows Robin would never try anything on you (for a multitude of reasons). But he couldn’t help but notice the nervous swearing that accompanied her quickly darting her eyes away from you, not before they widened slightly at the sight.

You return your hands to him, fingers skimming over his arms, “Besides, you took your shirt off too, Stevie. I think we’re even.”

His jaw tightens at the nickname, hands clutching you a bit firmer in a foolish effort to suppress the shiver that rolled up his spine with your tone. He clears his throat, “Well, it’s not a show every time I do it, is it sweetheart?”

You hum, winding your arms as loosely as you can around his neck, “I would beg to differ.”

Steve can’t help himself, crashing his lips onto yours once again. Your fingers thread into his hair, twirling the dark strands as you feel yourself growing more restless. When you shift again, hoisting yourself up higher, Steve stops abruptly. His hand, moving to re-adjust on your body, drifted over the bandage covering your skin — his throat goes dry.

With hooded eyes, Steve stares at your face, grimacing at the feeling of the bandage beneath his fingertips. It’s a cold shock, a terrible reminder of what nearly took you from him. You understand, the same worry mirrored in your expression as you meet his gaze, now soft and full of concern. You can’t help but run your hand along his chest until you reach his own wounds, swallowing harshly as you glance down at the sight of them almost resting against your stomach.

These pieces of your bodies are never going to feel the same. A part of you aches — you wish you had known there would be a final time the skin of his abdomen would be smooth and untouched; you would’ve spent hours worshiping the skin, saying good-bye to the familiar feeling beneath your hands. Steve would’ve done the same. Your back will never be the soft, delicate slope under his touch he’s learned over the last fifteen months.

Someday soon, the skin on your bodies will be marred and twisted. The pair of you will be marked by this for the rest of your lives. The realization settles within you both: you and Steve are forever bonded, with souls fused together and equipped with the matching scars to prove it.

No one will ever understand your pain like he does. No one will ever understand his pain like you do.

“Are you…” You start but the words get caught in your throat, eyes still intensely focused on his wounds, fingers brushing around the edge of the gauze you placed there; Steve’s stomach clenches under your gentle touch, “Are you okay to keep going?”

Steve takes another second to think — he’s more worried about you than himself. Your screams of pain are still rattling around inside his head, twisting his gut even now as he holds you close. He thinks he needs to be even closer to accept that you’re okay, that you’re still here with him.

“Are you?”

You drag your focus back up, taking the time to rove your gaze over his skin before landing on his face once more — the face of your protector.

Steve’s recounted his nightmares to you, at least the ones where he can collect himself enough to speak. You’re not surprised he’s so torn up about your injuries; it’s pretty damn close to the horrors his mind has previously concocted to haunt him.

He’s had numerous dreams about you dying — that tends to be what terrifies him the most. The difference between your nightmares and Steve’s is the intensity. You used to get nightmares almost every single night, your anxious mind swirling about anything and everything, concocting a mix of the worst moments of your life to torture you with.

When Steve gets his, one every couple months, they’re destructive. He’s always a step behind, a split second away from saving you when you’re taken from him. He’s shown images of you being swallowed whole by one of those creatures, or torn apart by a pack of demodogs, or beaten until your face is unrecognizable. It takes him hours to be able to fall back asleep, if he even does it at all.

But you’re here this time. You’re alive.

You swipe your thumbs across his cheekbones before cupping his jaw. Instinctively, Steve nuzzles further into your touch, turning his cheek to your palm and shutting his eyes for a moment. As he lets himself relish in the warmth you emit, he presses a firm kiss to the heel of your hand, sliding his nose along the side of your thumb.

The burn in your torso grows even more with Steve’s gentle affections; this is the man you love. The careful, passionate, amorous lover. He’s not a fighter, he never has been. But god, would he fight for you. He’d do anything for you.

You confirm your answer with a kiss, which Steve graciously returns. His hands slide to the slope of your waist, with his left curling around to press into the small of your back and arch you even closer. With your thumb, you pull down on his chin to deepen the kiss; a sigh escapes you at the hot glide of his tongue.

Your mind is going fuzzy again. You can’t focus on anything other than Steve’s soft groans and the slow drag of your lips against his until his fingers dip below the waistband of your bottoms.

The RV shakes — someone’s trying to open the door. They do it so aggressively that it shocks both of you back to your bleak reality. Thank god the door was actually locked.

You’d probably fall backwards in surprise if it weren’t for Steve’s hands already on you, moving quickly to support your back before you can tumble. You grip his shoulders tightly to steady yourself. Eddie’s voice just barely pierces through your Steve-induced haze, eyes blinking as you try to adjust to the sudden change in atmosphere, “Open up in there, Henderson. Gotta grab something, it’ll be quick.”

You lock eyes with Steve and neither of you can help it — you share a breathless laugh, faces scrunching up in bright smiles, knowing how close you were to being interrupted far more dramatically. Steve can’t stop himself from kissing you through it, humming as you arch into him once more. A knock on the door has him sighing in frustration.

“Fuckin’ Munson,” Steve mumbles before you press one final kiss to his lips before you have to start removing yourself from him, leaving your fingers on him the longest to draw it out. He passes you your shirt as you stand, watching with hooded eyes as you put it back on with a wink.

His jaw clenches as you make your way to the door, twisting the lock and pulling it only part way open. Your annoyance leaks into your tone, but you try to sound pleasant.

“What do you need, Eddie?”

Eddie shifts his weight, gesturing to the interior of the RV, voice slightly muffled by the cigarette between his lips, “My lighter is in there.”

You roll your eyes. This is what you stopped for?

“Alright, where is it?” You ask between clenched teeth, pointing for him to stay there when he tries to enter.

He brings his hands up in a silent apology as you disappear, shouting the answer to your question, “Should be in my vest on the booth!”

Steve laughs slightly, watching you flash a frustrated glance in his direction as he, unfortunately, tugs his shirt on over his head. The door’s shut as soon as you toss the small metal rectangle outside — Eddie just barely catches it.

“Nice hickey, by the way!” He calls through the door. You’re tempted to open the door again just to slam it. Your cheeks are glowing hotly as you sigh, turning on your heel to return to where Steve is.

Steve himself seems to recall the gravity of the situation, and how far off track the two of you had stumbled in your little endeavor. His eyes track up and down over your figure as you pad back over, collapsing next to him on the couch, gaze eventually catching on the mark on your throat. He has no doubt that there’s a matching one on his skin, feeling it pulse in time with his heartbeat as the blood rushes beneath it.

“Rain check?” Steve offers weakly. You roll your head to grin at him, an unexpected laugh passing your lips. It feels silly to be stealing these moments when the world is going to shit but grazing your eyes along the expanse of his skin, lips pinker than normal, you can’t find it in yourself to have any regret.

“Definitely.”

You don’t want your little bubble to end, but you suppose it has to eventually. You hate the thought that spills into your mind — this could be the last time you have him alone like this. Regretfully, you get up from the couch, but extend your hand for Steve to take. He waves it off, a sheepish smile pulling at his lips.

“I’m gonna need a minute.”

—

#steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x henderson!reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrinton smut #almost paradise

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