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OMG THIS IS SO FREAKING GOODđđđđđđđđ I WAS SO IN MY FEELS THE WHOLE TIME READING THIS THIS WAS AMAZING LOVED THIS SO MUCH!!!!!đđđđđđ
Always There - Steve Harrington
Summary
w/c 3.9k
a/n based off of this song that drops me to my knees every time I listen to it. Lyrics are out of order, ignore it âĄ
Request
Youâve been waiting for your lover, what youâll discover, is sheâs always there.
Long were the nights you once thought about Steve.
Seven and knee scrapes, youâd been there with a GI Joe bandage. Twelve and arguing parents, youâd been there with your palms, warm over his ears.
It was natural with him, always had been.
Fourteen and his first girlfriend, youâd been there with open arms during their break up. Though, he didnât seem to mind sheâd left him for Jack Thompson, a stumpy boy a year older than them. Like he anticipated it, like he knew it was coming. Itâd always bewildered you that he wasnât upset his first girlfriend was stolen from him, but he had you heâd said, and that was enough for him.
16 and Nancy wheeler, youâd stub the toe of your shoe into the ground when she came along, and pretend she didnât get to you the way she did.
Steve with her was a lump in your throat, but what were you to do? He loved her, he told you, It was different than the other girls. You couldnât inadvertently scare her off with your silence, or push her away with darting glares in the halls. She loved him too. Or, so heâd thought.
Steve didnât know why it felt like he was forcing himself to love Nancy. It stressed him, weighing down on his tight chest when heâd thought about the way she proclaimed them bullshit. Like he was just some fling, some distraction.
Not her distraction. His.
âBullshit.â Nancy had slurred. âWeâre bullshit.â
And Steve wondered why it was you he wanted to reach for in the moment. He knew youâd be there to wipe the cold water of Nancyâs indifference from his face.
His body ached as you held him that night under silly confetti sheets heâd bought you. The same sheets youâd brought to your new apartment. Pent up stress leaving his body in guttural sobs, It embarrassed him, pushed him further into your own aching chest. You didnât mind, preening from the attention heâs been lackluster with.
You toe at his hip now, under the roof of an apartment you two call your own. Thinking about it makes you a nostalgic Steve calls you silly for, so you sit quiet as he grabs your socked foot, thumb pressing into the soft middle. âFoot message?â
20 and grown up, you feel like heâs been taking care of you more lately.
He drops your foot. âYou wish.â
You smile, all the cheek he loves, but he doesnât look away from the blindingly bright TV. Your shoulders drop, wishing youâd catch him looking at you the way you looked at him.
Twenty felt nice on him. Twenty warmed his skin and broadened his shoulders. It was shown in the way his arms filled the sleeves of his crew necks, the way he carried himself with a new lightness.
Youâd always known heâd look good grown up, and twenty was grown up when you were sixteen. Taxes and rent, grocery shopping and working a job, youâd always known itâd be Steve youâd do those arduous adult tasks with. You just hoped itâd be as his girlfriend, not his roommate.
It ached the 14 year old inside of you. Roommate wasnât the best adjective for what you were, but it worked. He was your best friend, your diary, your Steve. Not your roommate. He hated it, correcting everyone in a 20 mile radius when they called you that.
Movie night with your roommate?
best friend
Itâs only fair when you decide to push his buttons a little. The lack of attention eats you, and you know he doesnât like to talk about his dates to you. âHow was Carrie?â
âHm?â
âCarrie?â
âOh,â Steve breathes out heavily. âShe was fine.â
You nod slowly, though it still isnât received, like the smile you had plastered on just for him 2 minutes ago.
He seems tired, though usually heâs able to muster a knock it off.
âThereâll be a second date?â You donât know why you seek out this answer.
âUm,â his head lolls against the couch, turning to look at you. âNo,â his head shakes, âI donât think so.â
âWhat?â Your eyes squint. âWhy not?â
His laugh is exasperated. âI donât know, sweet thing.â Heat crawls up your neck, embarrassed at his unexpected attention. âWhy are we playing 20 questions?â
âSorry.â You murmur, drawing your knees up. Defensive, but he doesnât mind.
âItâs okay.â He murmurs back, smile lilting his voice playfully. âAre you okay?â
Your eyes pop up to his. Heâs grateful to make contact with them. âWhy wouldnât I be okay?â
âCause weâre playing interrogate Steve.â
âI said sorry.â Thereâs a loose thread of the couch in between your fingers. You tie it anxiously.
âYou didnât need to.â He teases.
âI know.â You tease back, lighthearted. Just loud enough to hear, just quiet enough that you donât have to use your voice, youâre scared heâll hear the choke in your throat.
The couch below you crinkles as Steve turns back to his tv, and youâre embarrassed. So embarrassed.
He doesnât know this, of course, but it still gnaws that he could see through your interrogation. As heâd put it.
âY/N.â His voice is quiet.
The TV still plays, background noise though you pretend to pay attention.
âHm?â You feign attention, or a lack thereof.
His hand drops from the couch cushion to your knee, squeezing concernedly. âAre you okay?â
Or maybe he does know. Maybe he knows more than youâd think.
âYes, Steve,â Thereâs a weak laugh that makes him frown. âAre we playing interrogate Y/N now?â
âNo,â he drags out, gently. âyou just seem.. sad?â
You nod. âThank you.â
âNo,â he says again, a little more stressed. âI just mean- shit, I can tell you want to cry.â his chest hurts. âDid I do something?â
Your head shakes, words failing you.
Heâs upset now. Not at you, of course, but at himself for being the reason you werenât able to talk.
âMâsorry.â His head shakes, dismissing his earlier question. âPlease donât be upset with me, just.. tell me when youâre ready.â
You nod, knowing that heâs still watching, though heâs turned back to Full House.
Something about him noticing your upset doesnât sit right with you. Heâs known you since you were 5, of course he can tell when you want to cry. Of course he notices the freckle next to your eye and the birthmark on your hip. Donât all friends?
Your stomach stumbles and you get up, tripping to get to your small bedroom before Steve sees the tears. You and him had a small budget apartment shopping, but it was yours, and thatâs what mattered.
Youâre grateful when Steve seemingly doesnât follow, though he stands behind the door petrified. Heâs the reason youâre hiding away, heâs the reason he can hear racketing sobs, and he doesnât know what he did.
He thinks for a moment, that you must know what heâs been thinking lately.
â
Stay while in your slumber, tumble under, and never wake.
Family video is cold without you.
Steve doesnât think there was ever a Family Video shift he didnât work with you, and your vanishment has completely left him an absence of a boy.
Not that you quit or anything drastic like that.
Called in sick, is what Robin had said, and when Steve didnât believe her, heâd had no choice but to tell the nosy girl what had happened the night before.
Sheâd sympathized with him like a good friend should, but that didnât mean she agreed with him. She sometimes wish he had more interesting drama. Heâd make a better coworker best friend.
âI mean, how do you think she feels, Steve?â
They sit on the floor of Family video behind the counter. Besides the establishment being empty of you, it was also devoid of customers, like your light drew them in. And they werenât going to stand a ten hour shift if they hadnât needed to.
His attention catches, looking up from the boxes Robin hands him to snap shut and throw in a crate. âWhat?â
She, unlike Steve, doesnât look up, focused on the repetitious task of opening movie boxes, and stamping their return. âSheâs your best friend of, what, 15 years?â
He doesnât understand where sheâs getting at, eyebrows scrunched in pure confusion. So what? âWhat does that have to do with this?â
Robin heaves a sigh, letting the stamp clunk down onto the hardwood loudly. If she notices Steve cringe, she makes no attempt to apologize. âIâm sure it gets tiring watching you go on date after date.â
âI do not go on âdate after date.ââ His pointed glare fails to cut through Robin.
âHow many boyfriends has she had, Steve?â
On a normal day these questions would be tolerated. Today, they are not. âI donât see what youâre getting at, Robin.â
She sighs again, more exasperated than before. His heart trips meanly at his friend being frustrated with him. âIt hurts her feelings, Steve.â His head turns, Robin marches on. âI mean, sheâs the only constant girl in your life, besides me, and you havenât made a move!â
âThat doesnât mean anything.â His head shakes. âI just donât want to lose her.â
âDid you want to lose me when you told me you loved me in the Starcourt toilets?â
Won't you tell her thatâ
you love her? And you'll hug her, most every day.
âI did not tell you IÂ loved you.â His eyes roll. âBesides, I tell her I love her.â
Robin nods encouragingly. âThatâs great, but is it the same way you told me you loved me?â
Steve loves Robin. Itâs a deep twisting love that Steve is not ashamed to admit to anyone who asks, but even he knows thatâs not the same love he holds for you. Itâs different. Your his person. He feels a little sick.
âI think you should see sense, Steve.â Robin shrugs.
His hand runs over his eyes. âThanks, Robs.â
âYouâre welcome.â She chirps. âI just miss her here is all.â
Steve letâs his first smile of the day slip. âIs all.â He mimics
She laughs louder than him. âShut up and finish your pile, youâre slowing me down.â
â
Walk a while in her summer, she is the drummer, of your beating heart.
Summer days are so much better when your best friend isnât acting weird.
Weird is harsh.
The sun beating down heavily, your warm foggy head lays in Robins lap. Her fingers work through your hair, untangling tiny knots your brush didnât glide through this morning. Itâs nice. You breathe through your nose softly.
âGetting sleepy?â Robin murmurs, quiet in contrast to the shrieks of happy teenagers fifty feet away.
âNo,â you huff, adjusting comfortably on her thigh, âjust bored.â
âHear that.â She nods, though only Steve can see. Theyâd wanted an outside day, wanted to skate and run and work themselves in the heat of the sun. Who was Steve to say no to that?
The blanket a languid tangle of teenage young adult limbs, he stares at the notable gap between your thigh and his. Itâs raging and wide as the Mississippi River. He canât stand it.
âWhatâs for dinner?â Robin asks into the air, but you know itâs not directed towards you.
âI donât know,â Steve yanks a blade of grass from the ground. Itâs soft between his fingers as his thumb glides against the smooth surface. He chucks it at Robin. âAsk the childrenâs mothers.â
She sniffs out as it hits her nose, he grimaces as she gently pulls it from where itâs landed in your hair. âCome on, youâre not gonna feed them?â
âWhat kind of dad are you, Steve?â You murmur into Robinâs thigh, tickling her softly.
He watches you, eyes still closed, reach out and flick his knee. Itâs the first time youâve directly touched him this entire evening. It sets off something awful in his chest.
âI mean- shit you know we gotta pay the electric,â His head shakes. âCanât exactly afford Happy Meals for six.â
You sigh, ignoring Robinâs displeased mumble as you sit up. âI already paid electric, Steve.â
He doesnât understand, tugging the brim of his cap down confusedly. Love will keep us together, it reads. Robin teased him for it, but he knew it was your favorite. âBut we usually split that?â
âJust wanted to get ahead of things,â you shrug, not quite making eye contact. âfigured youâd have some extra money for things like this.â
He hates the sincerity in your voice, eyeing your fingers as they tug the hem of his shorts absentmindedly. âYou didnât have to do that, babe.â
You shrug again, dropping your head back into Robinâs warm lap. âWanted to.â
His head thumps with heat, or longing. He canât tell them apart, covering his cool eyes from the heat of the sun with his hat. If it helps, heâll know which the problem was.
Lucas is the first one to come running hungry. His nimble fingers punch a yellow straw into his capri sun, sucking greedily. Robin swats his hand when it overflows onto sticky fingers, mumbling something about the blanket. He doesnât mind, tossing it into the grass.
âIâm hungry.â
âHi, hungry.â You smile, though you donât look up from your resting spot. Robin snorts at the unfunny joke, Steve cringes.
âIs she okay?â
âJust warm.â You nod, peeking at him. His visor covers the run from his eyes protectively, your eyes glint in a tease you wonât let slip. âWeâre getting food soon.â
âFood?â Max drops to the blanket, kicking Lucas in the ribs softly, teasingly.
âWeâre getting Happy Meals.â You affirm, reaching up to pull her thick red hair from her sweaty neck. Mike displeases.
âWeâre not kids anymore.â
âYou love the apple slices.â Wills elbow knocks Mikes.
âI could go for a Happy Meal.â Dustin disagrees with Mike. Max hums something of an agreement.
âDollar menu.â Steve corrects, fighting off the petulant whines of 16 year olds in his ears. Heâll be buying you something pretty.
â
Don't you try to push or shove her, Find another, Or she'll walk away
The days following slow Steve down. Mentally and physically.
He doesnât want to get up for work, doesnât want to be ignored by you, to get a small smile for something that usually gets him your shining laugh.
You paid the electric in full so he could pocket some cash. Heâd called the company that night to double check.
Not that he didnât trust the veracious words from your mouth, it just startled him. You didnât have to do that. You shouldnât have done that. Youâre a team, teams talk about these things.
He canât help but feel that heâs the reason you havenât talked to him.
You go grocery shopping and he could be sick. You buy for the both of you. Your fruit, his protein powder. Your snacks, your snacks x2 so Steve can share without feeling guilty. Itâs a low punch to the gut.
It kills him that you do these things. These little things that splay your love embarrassingly on a table. You remember he doesnât like Dawn dish soap and get Meyers instead. What is love if not attention? He doesnât deserve it.
So he makes it up to you.
He does the dishes while your away, cleans the kitchen and stocks your coffee pods when they run low. Tiny acts he hopes wonât go unnoticed by you.
Though, this new act is not so tiny.
Creasing in the palm of his hand, the rough material of a tote bag handle squeezes. Itâs warm, and slightly wet, from the warmth of his nervous hand. Is this too much? Heâd got the prettiest bunch there, wrapping it in brown crinkle paper, cause no girl wants flowers in plastic Nancy had told him once.
Heâs grateful to the teenage memory of her. A mental note to thank her.
Standing in front of your closed wood door, he can hear the loud music of the vinyl Robin had gotten you for Christmas last year. A thoughtful present, really, though you had to buy a record player to use it. Youâd made Steve promise to never tell her, accepting the gift in a warm hug. Sheâd seemed really pleased.
âShe's a woman in a dream, one that makes you fall in loveâ
He knocks, low enough to play it off if you donât hear. But you do, of course you do.
Thereâs a soft shuffle. A click and a sputter of a record player dying down, a bed being situation on, and then a âYes?â
He breathes out, turning the knob. Itâs cold, and the gold paint chips off every so often, but itâs in your apartment that you and Steve pay for with your grown up jobs. If you could call family video that.
He canât make himself walk in, leaving against the doorframe anxiously with his arms over his chest. It was supposed to be natural with you, you were his person. So whyâd this feel so awful.
âI got you something.â He chokes out.
âYou did?â Your eyes peak down at the brown paper crinkling out the tote bag. The sight of Steve Harrington with a tote bag. Where is your Polaroid?
Padding into your room cautiously, he pulls the flowers out gently. Theyâre rough around the edges, you canât deny. Cleaned and snipped, you can see the spots he hadnât meant to knick, and the way the paper dents in places it shouldnât. âStill your favorite?â He hands them to you, still so gently.
âYes,â you whisper, shocked beyond repair. âAnd the brown paper.â
âEh,â he scratches his neck sheepishly. âNance once told me girls didnât like plastic wrapped flowers. I hope itâs not too fancy schmancyâ
âI love any flowers.â Your honest voice mumbles. He almost doesnât hear you as you look up to him. âThank you.â
âItâs no problem.â He nods. He opens his mouth to say something, closing it silently. Your amused smile rings around his head.
âYes?â
His fingers twitch. âI didnât mean to make you uncomfortable.â
You choke a swallow. âWhat are you talking about?â
âThe dates.â
âThe dates?â The space between your eyebrows crease like the paper in your hands. âThose never made me uncomfortable.â
âI just-â He breathes out, dejected. âNever?â
Your brain sputters. âDid you want them to?â
âNo?â He panics. âNo, no!â His head shakes furiously. âJust, Robin said-â
Heâs cut off by your loud laugh. âThat was your first mistake.â
His head cocks.
âTaking advice from her.â You give with a shrug. He coughs, startled.
âYeah,â he nods, serious, definite. âYeah, youâre right.â
âI mean, I love her, but this is the girl that had a crush on a Nashville wannabe for three years.â
He huffs a laugh thatâs not all there. âStill donât see what she saw in her.â His head shakes.
You squint, his dejected limpness detected quickly by your roaming eyes. âA voice only a mother could love.â You beg a laugh from him.
His shoulder shakes and his eyes flick to the posters covering the off white of your walls.
âOk,â he breathes, patting his hip. âwell Iâll get out of your hair.â He nods to himself. âJust wanted to give those to you.â
âThank you, Stevie.â
The nickname pinches him and it hurts. He nods to you this time. âAnytime, bug.â
Ouch.
Crestfallen as a kicked puppy, he heads for the door. The sight stomps your heart.
Your weak voice stops him. âThey never made me uncomfortable, but maybe a little jealous?â
He turns. âWhat?â
âI mean-â your head tilts to the side, slowly shrugging. âIt wasnât fun hearing about Cass,â
âCarrie.â
âCarrie, and the other girls.â You pause. âEven if you never gave me the details.â
You tread a line of no return. Steve kicks you forward.
âBut jealous?â He whispers.
You shrug, sheepish. âYeah.â
âOh.â
Your esophagus closes, no longer letting you swallow without a fight. That hurt. âYeah,â you repeat. âOh.â
The silence is deafening. Wow, you think.
You bring your fingers up to scrub tired eyes. They burn from your lack of sleep and the tears that threaten to front. âMaybe letâs just forget this?â Your shoulders deflate and he hates the crack in the end of the sentence.
âWhat?â
âYour âohâ said a lot,â you breathe out self consciously. âSo letâs just drop it before we canât take back our words.â
Before we canât take back our words.
âBut I want that.â Steve frowns. âI want to not take it back.â Heâs scared of tightness in his chest.
You pause. âOh.â
He smiles. âYeah,â he copies you. âOh.â
Itâs quiet after that. The whirring fan above you clicking with each turn. What do you say to that? This boy, the object of your affection for god knows how long, reciprocates your love.
âWow.â
He laughs, his eyes squinting. âRight?â
âWhat wouldnât you be able to take back?â You push lightly, daring a look at him. His hair mussed, his shirt wrinkled, you know heâs lost as much sleep over this as you.
âThat-â he starts slowly âThat Iâve been into you since I was 14.â
You sit in quiet apprehension. The corners of his mouth ache from the smile he canât wipe away.
âThat I date to find a girl who compares to you,â His head tilts. âand they donât.â
âWeâre so stupid.â
âJust a little.â He grabs your arms gently and pulls you up to stand under him. The way he looks down at you kills the butterflies in your stomach and replaces them with something stronger. He tucks hair behind your ear, admiring. âYouâre the nicest girl Iâve ever met, even when I donât deserve it.â
You paw at his chest. âStop.â You murmur.
He shakes his head. âYou tolerate me to an extent I donât understand, but Iâm grateful.â
âI donât tolerate you, idiot.â Your lips bend down. âI like you.â
He agrees quietly, not wanting to ruin the moment with his insecurity. âYou know, before I talked to Robin I thought you were upset because you could read my mind?â
Your head shakes, amusedly disbelieved. âI take back what i said earlier, going to Robin for advice was amazing.â
âShut up,â he pushes you back without letting go. âI thought you were hearing how much I wanted to kiss you.â
Your nose scrunches. âThatâs so silly.â
âSo silly.â He agrees, swaying you forward and backwards. âIs it silly that I want to kiss you now?â
âNo,â you whisper. âI already knew that,â your face is stony faux seriousness. âI read your mind.â
He snorts, bending down to press his lips to your own. Itâs soft and slow. His lips are smooth and if you didnât know him like you do, you wouldnât know heâs been using aquaphor since he was 18.
He pulls back gently and kisses you again quicker. âYouâre so soft.â His fingers itch to slide from your waist and pull you in by your belt loops.
âYour chapstick.â You murmur, dazed.
âThat shit is $9,â You know his annoyance isnât real. âI need you to write me a check for what you owe me.â
âCan I pay you back in kisses?â
He pauses. âOne kiss is .50 cents.â His eyes close, dramatizing his seriousness. âI need 18 kisses on the lips now.â
On the lips. You laugh at his wording. âI think we can make that work.â
She is what our love is made of.
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Jzmxkzkxkzkkrkxkvjxmvkxkfksjxjjsjxjxjcjdjd THIS WAS SO DELICIOUSLY ANGSTY I LOVEEEEEEEED THIS!!
i want Steve - Haunted more than i could possibly say
i refuse to think more than 5 seconds about it critically
just know
i am on my hands and knees
haunted (steve's version)
warnings: technically canon compliant (aka the upside down is happening), severe angst, pretty much hurt no comfort.
wc: 1.6k+
an: hi. i love you. i'd say i'm sorry, but i don't think i really am. this probably isn't what you meant by any means but when i hear this song and think of steve all i can think about is that moment in s4 between him and eddie waah. (also, reminder: i will repeat songs if the requests are for different characters!)
He wouldnât look at you.Â
He was the one who started this terrible mess, who had initiated that first kiss, and now he wonât even look at you. Steve Harrington was doing the one thing he had promised to never do â he was walking away from you.Â
All the years are spiraling down the drain, years spent by his side even when he didnât deserve it. Even when he was an asshole, even when he wore the crown of king Steve so proudly. Even when he didnât deserve your allegiance, he had had it. And now, he wonât look you in the eyes. Heâd rather stare down the barrel of death than face you right now, and that very fact was unraveling you at your core.Â
âThis was a mistake. I shouldnât have done that.âÂ
His words are salt in the wound and havenât stopped echoing in your spiraling mind since heâd said them.Â
What, exactly, was the mistake? What part of this did he not only take responsibility for, but regret?Â
Was it the lingering glances of the past? Was it all the nights youâd listened to him rant and whine after his breakup with Nancy? Or was it all the times heâd convinced you that he had put you first, not only in your daily lives but in all of this? Did he regret the day heâd thrown himself between you and that Demodog, bat swinging wildly as he didnât show a sign of fear? Or when heâd left you with radio silence as heâd been tortured underground by Russians and you faced the monsters above, never knowing if he was alive or dead?Â
Or was it the kiss? The kiss heâd impulsively thrown himself into, hardly giving either of you a chance to think last night before heâd pressed his lips to yours as you tended to his wounds left behind by the Demobats. One moment, you were taking alcohol-soaked cotton swabs gingerly to his throat that was sure to scar once all was said and done, and the next, his tongue had been in your mouth while his hands gripped your hips and pulled you impossibly close.Â
âStaring him down isnât going to fix whatever⊠weirdness is happening between you two,â Eddieâs voice snaps you out of your thoughts, making you look up to where he sits in the grass, red in the face and holding a makeshift shield.Â
Dustin is still out of breath from their roughhousing and focusing on hammering nails into his trash can lid.Â
âWeirdness?â you retort, crinkling your nose, âNothing weird is happening between me and Steve.â
Eddie shrugs, clearly not buying your defensive tone, âWhatever you say. But Iâm not blind, sweetheart. If looks could kill, weâd be arranging a funeral for our resident babysitter.âÂ
âA mistake? Steve, no, please-âÂ
âDonât.â
âDonât what?â
âDonât make this harder than it has to be.âÂ
You knew fear. Youâd faced the end of the world plenty of times now, you currently were again, but youâd never known trepidation like this.Â
âNo oneâs dying,â you respond blandly, looking back to the cup of nails as you pass another one to Eddie, âWeâre not heroes, Eddie. No oneâs dying this time, and there wonât be any more funerals.âÂ
âI think itâd be a mercy kill if Vecna got his hands on Harrington first,â Eddie takes the nail, pausing his thought as his tongue peeks out between his lips and he levels the nail before bringing down his mallet smoothly, âI think when itâs all said and done, Iâll get red roses to lay at the grave heâs dug himself.âÂ
It only gets a ghost of a laugh to escape you, a silent breath that leaves you sharply as you shake your head.Â
âDo you not want this?â
âI donât know what I want.âÂ
He didnât know what he wanted. Heâd made that clear over the last few days. All the tides of his attention had turned towards Nancy, and heâd left you on the sidelines, sick to your stomach and so uncertain of the future between you two.Â
You knew what you wanted. It was the same thing youâd always wanted, ever since heâd first laid his eyes on you, effectively cursing you to spend the rest of your days haunted by soft brown eyes and congregations of freckles that dotted warm, tan skin.Â
âDonât be cheap with it,â you croak, eyes looking back in his direction. You donât even hear Eddieâs amused snort. Youâre stunned, taken back by the fact that heâs already looking at you, âMake sure to get him a proper dozen.âÂ
As hazel eyes lock with yours, you ponder if heâd always been walking this very delicate line at your side. If maybe, youâd not been quite as alone in your unrequited as youâd always assumed.
And you wonder if even the world of the end can delay the impending break to come.Â
â
The plan is set, the supplies have been gathered, the teams have been formed â you all know what you have to do. Itâs now or never, and thereâs no time to second-guess any of it now.Â
Youâre all back in the Upside Down again, hopefully for the last time, when Steve hesitates in front of the steps of the trailer on this side of the flipped world.Â
You almost convince yourself as heâs turning to face you, Eddie, and Dustin that he might bring it all up again. That he might leave you with something that soothes the ache heâd planted inside of you. Heâd dug his claws into you long before that kiss, long before heâd lodged all those words of uncertainty down your throat about how he doesnât know what he wants. You all but beg for him to just leave you with something to hold onto before you both face these nightmares one last time.Â
He doesnât. Instead, he makes one last speech, sternly instructing you three, âDonât try to be cute, or be a hero, or something.âÂ
At some point, Dustin and Eddie interrupt him, joking about the way you three were just decoys, not heroes. But youâre not listening â youâre sharply focused on the way Steveâs eyes are avoiding yours again.Â
Please look at me. Please say something to me. Please donât walk away from me, because something about this time feels like the last time.Â
You canât stop thinking about it. You canât stop feeling the way heâd latched onto you in that small bathroom, the way his fingers curled against your hips and the way heâd left your lips swollen and bruised before he delivered his final blows. You know him, better than the back of your hand, and you know that he hadnât said half the words heâd wanted to in the aftermath. You know what brand cologne he wears and how his mother was the one to first buy it for him and he never bothered to venture from it, you know that he has glasses that he needs desperately after all the head trauma heâs endured these last few years and you know that heâs too embarrassed to wear them in front of anyone except you, you know the way he still wakes up in the middle of the night screaming at past memories twisted into night terrors. You know him. You swear you know him.Â
He still feels like a stranger as he turns without sparing you a glance. Eddie starts to take a step forward, opening his mouth, but you beat him to the punch.Â
âHey, Steve?â you call out into the mist of blue tint and foreign particles.Â
When he looks at you, all the air leaves your lungs.Â
You thought you knew him. His favorite music played over late night drives with just the two of you, the way you teased him for his hair routine but secretly loved the smell of his coconut shampoo. You had every mole on his neck memorized and knew the curvature of his lips long before youâd felt them. Every inside joke, every quiet exchange of comfort, every moment of pining swallowed down, is choking you now.Â
Youâve already lost him. He was always destined to be a ghost in your closet, a cold chill to only visit you in his loneliest of moments. Youâve already lost him, and you never even had him.Â
âPlease be careful,â you manage to whisper. Your face must be a mirror image to his the night before, he must see all the words you hold back and bury in your chest.Â
You are two sides of the same coin. Neither of you will ever learn to unlock your jaws long enough to stop biting your tongues. And it doesnât even matter now; itâs too late to change anything.Â
All his features soften as he offers a nod and nothing more. For a second, you see the boy you once believed you knew. The same eyes, mouth, and nose that had laid staring at you from the pillow beside yours, fighting sleep and fearing the dark. Only brave enough to face it when he laid at your side, hand in innocent hand, never seeing the way he was stringing you along the entire time. Only knowing he needed that comfort and he needed that warmth you would offer to him time and time again, even as it left you hollow.Â
Youâd already lost him once. As it happens for a second time, something in your gut churns and whispers it will be for the last time.Â
He turns around wordlessly, and follows after Robin and Nancy.Â
You feel that thread that has bound you to him all these years pull mercilessly taut and wait for the break as Steve Harrington does the one thing he swore heâd never do to you â he walks away from you.
"it's getting dark and it's all so quiet, and i can't trust anything now. and it's coming over you like it's all a big mistake."
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KSKSKSKXKDKCKDKKDKVKFKDKXKCKFKF
ITâS BEEN A WHILE SINCE I HAVE READ ANYTHNG AND KSKDKSKDKDKCKDKCK
Oh my lord this was so freaking GOOD!!!!
Obsessed with this from start to finish and the build up and the shyness and the little glancesksmdmxksmx THEYRE KILLING ME THIS IS SO ADORABLEđđđđđ I LOVE LOVE LOVE that you added the accidental rebuff part because the awkwardness and the little smidge of angst and the regret was KEEPING ME ALIVEKDMFKDKC and his letter to âGabbyâ after that đ„șđ„șđ„șđ„șđ„ș
I was SQUEALING at the ending this was so good and your characterization of steeb was on point LIKE ALWAYS AND AHHHHHHHHH LOVED THIS YOUâRE AMAZING!!!
the swindling of steve harringtonâs heart
word count: 9.5k
synopsis: you write for the advice column in the hawkins post, under the pen name gabby. you get a letter asking for advice about a first date and thereâs no way itâs the same guy youâve just landed a first date with, right? steve harrington doesnât need help with his dates⊠right? [based on this post] [fem!reader + strangers to lovers but⊠steveâs a big sap for you already, ok?]
The first letter comes in on a Tuesday.Â
Itâs posted in an ordinary envelope, with only a messy scrawl on the front to dictate that it was for the advice column of Hawkins Post. Inside revealed the same loopy letters, on a single piece of paper, reading:Â
Out of all the letters youâve ever received at this job, most of which were lengthy admissions of troubles in suburbia, this one was by far the most interesting one youâd gotten all month. All year if you were being honest.
Writing advice under the pen name Gabby for your local paper likely wasnât anyoneâs first choice of job, not at least for those serious about writing as yourself was.
But between flipping burgers down at Bennyâs and slinging shakes at Ritaâs Diner, it seemed the lesser of all evils. And hey, it paid decently enough and you had a sweet little set-up in one of the drowsy corners of the office.Â
Itâs how you wind up here, scanning over the letter from one mysterious S.
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Oh this was so cute!!! Iâm so happy you let the kids be kids in this one I havenât seen much of that unfortunately but ahhhhhh this was just pure teeth rotting fluffđđđđđ
Steve Harrington's First Kiss
Steve Harrington x Fem!Reader
Word count: roughly 4.9K
When Tommy H has his very first kiss with Carol in eighth grade, Steve realizes he has to step up his game before he gets to high school.
Warnings: Pre Canonical writing, all fluff, a single peck on the lips, characters are all in middle school but all fluff no adult content, SFW.Â
Authorâs note: Was chatting with a friend of mine about middle school Steve and we couldnât help but decide that Tommy had his first kiss first soâŠhereâs a little snippet about Steve! Completely fluff, very SFW!  Â
It was a usual day at Hawkins Middle School. The sun was shining, the birds were chirping as spring approached, and the eighth-grade boys were being eighth-grade boys. A special kind of eighth-grade boy though because Tommy H had somehow managed to get a first kiss before anyone else.Â
âYep, thatâs right boys!â He said as he put his thumbs in his belt loops with all the middle school swagger he could manage, âCarol kissed me right here!â He pointed at his lips with a cocky smirk on his face.Â
âThank god someone did,â Steve Harrington, the usual ring leader of the group chimed in, âCause we all thought youâd never get one.â This got a chuckle from the middle schoolers making Tommy frown. While he was always content when Steve made jokes, he hated when they were at his expense.Â
âOh yeah? Well, you havenât had a first kiss,â Tommy H said as he crossed his arms which got a big response from the rest of the middle school boys. Steve shifted a little bit, crossing his arms over his chest.Â
âThatâs not true,â Steve said as he stood up from the bench he had been sitting on, âI kissed Alic-â
âAlice would kiss anyoneeeee,â Tommy said as he looked at Steve, glad to be gaining some traction over his leader, âYou gotta kiss someone who wouldnât kiss anyone to prove itâs a real first kiss.â
âThat is not howâŠfine,â Steve said as walked over to Tommy, towering over him even in the eighth grade, âI bet you I can get anyone here to kiss me.â Another big oooooh came from the boys standing by.
âAnyone?â Tommy asked, his eyes lighting up which made Steveâs stomach flip but he wasnât one to back down from a challenge.
âYeah,â Steve nodded, âAnyone.â Tommy smiled more, a sinister sort of smileâŠas sinister as a middle school boy on a war path could get as he pointed to a group of kids chatting by the swing set.Â
âY/N L/N.â Steve felt his stomach drop as he looked over in the direction Tommy was pointing. There were several people Tommy could have picked in that direction that would have been fine. There was Nancy Wheeler who Steve had always thought was pretty, her long brown hair and pretty smile. Steve would like to kiss Nancy. There was Tina who Steve had always thought was cool. She did cool stuff that the other kids hadnât done growing up like jumping off the swing at full height and dancing on tables in elementary schoolâŠand in middle school now that he thought about it. Basically, she was cool and so she wouldnât be a bad option, he might even get some cool points himself. And then there was Barb. Barb was fine. She had always been fine. She was usually quiet when Steve was around her, happy to stand in Nancyâs shadow and let the other girl do the talking, sometimes giggling. She would have been fine too.Â
But no, Tommy had to pick Y/N. Y/N who made Steveâs chest tighten when she walked by. Y/N who had beaten Steve in a soccer match - something no one would ever seem to let him forget. Y/N who was from the big city and always had smart ideas and talked way too much in class and got too much praise and made Steveâs head hurt when she talked with him, to him, even in his vague vicinity. Y/N L/N who he couldnât stand because he wanted her to like him so much it made his heart ache.Â
âChickening out already?â Tommy asked Steve with a smirk, proud that he had chosen so well.Â
âNo way,â Steve scoffed as he started to make his way over to the group before pausing in his tracks. Nancy was over there, and Barb, and TinaâŠand Y/N was gonna say no. She was definitely gonna say no with all of them there.
Iâll just kiss her and then walk away. Without asking? Thatâs a big no- But itâs for a dare, sheâll understand - that makes it worse!
âTimeâs ticking Harringto-â
âButt out Tommy, Iâll do your stupid dare,â Steve said as he rolled his eyes, âYou didnât put a time limit on it so Iâm gonna take my time.âÂ
âOooo what a ladies' man-â
âI am and I always will be,â Steve spat back before muttering under his breath, âIâll get Y/N L/N to kiss me if itâs the last damn thing I do.â
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It had been a good day at school. Y/N had made an A on her science exam and an A+ on her math exam which meant she was allowed to go to the sleepover Nancy was having tomorrow night without having to do any chores! Her mom had agreed that two As meant she could go to Nancyâs right after school. Literally, nothing could bring down this-
âHey Y/N.â Y/N stopped in her tracks as she held her textbook closer to her chest as she walked toward her locker. She turned with furrowed eyebrows to find Steve Harrington standing there. Steve was a year older than her and they didnât really talk that much. Y/N was in advanced math though so she had that with him since it was just regular math for his grade level but Nancy and Barb were there so she spent most of her time with them. In fact, she couldnât remember the last time she had spoken to Steve, if ever. She had just admired him from afar. That was it. He was hard to miss. He was loud and rude and annoying and hung out with Tommy H who was the worst and-
âHi,â Y/N said before turning away before she stood awkwardly in the hallway staring at Steve Harrington for any more time.
âWoah, woah, woah, whatâs the rush?â Steve asked as he came to stand in between her and the locker she was trying to get to.Â
âI need to put my books away before study hal-â
âYouâve got time,â Steve said with what he perceived to be a suave smile. âI feel like we havenât spoken and I want to fix that.â Y/Nâs brows furrowed even more as she looked at him.
âWhy?â Steve let out a sigh before getting really quiet after scanning the hall to make sure Tommy H wasnât anywhere in sight. He didnât say I had to keep the bet a secret, Steve thought.
âLook Tommy had his first kiss with Carol the other day and now he wonât stop giving me shit over the fact thatâŠcan I kiss you?â Y/N blinked at him, standing in complete silence.
âWhat?â
âY/N,â Steve said keeping his voice low, âI need to kiss you to win a thing with Tommy. IâŠplease. I promise it will be quick andâŠjust, please. I need this.â Y/N stared at him like he had grown a third head.
âWeâve never spoken,â She said in a calculated tone, âWeâve never spoken ever before this. And now youâre asking me to kiss you?â
âNo, Iâd kiss you, that's a very different thing,â Steve said with a duh look which only made Y/N question this even more. âLook Iâm begging here Y/N. Please, this means a lot to me.â Y/N looked at him for a second more and he was sure heâd be shot down by the new girl for good this time - a terrible start to his romantic life.
âOkay.â Now it was Steveâs turn to stand and blink.
âOkay?â
âOkay,â Y/N nodded, âYou can kiss me after school when no one is here to watch.â
âButâŠbut the whole point is for Tommy to know it happened-â
âThis is your first kiss, right?â Y/N asked as she opened her locker, now taking a new tactic of complete disinterest.
âNo,â Steve scoffed as he watched her, âItâs not-â
âThen why is Tommy having you do this if not to reclaim your title as King of whatever round table you crawled off of?â The wit of her words had Steve grasping at straws. Who knew Y/N L/N had so much bite? âIf you want to kiss me then wait until everyone had left and you can kiss me then. If not, then no.â With that, Y/N slammed her locker door shut and headed off down the hallway to her homeroom for study hall leaving Steve gaping in the hallway, mouth opening and closing like a fish.Â
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Study hall passed without much to do, as did third period. When it was time to go to lunch period - her last period before math and then home, Y/N couldnât have been more thankful since all day her brain had been thinking about what Steve had said. She tried to forget it butâŠshe just couldnât. I just liked leaving him speechless, she figured, yeah thatâs it. And that was part of it for sure. But the other partâŠÂ
âSo glad class is done!â Nancy said as she and Barb made their way over to the table where Tina was already sitting.Â
â Oh my gosh you guys, did you hear that Carol kissed Tommy today? He hasnât shut up about it all damn day.â
âYeah,â Barb piped up, only one to talk when spoken to except when she was with her friends. âHe was telling everyone heâs the only 8th-grade boy to have had a first kiss. Like a real one.â
"Whatâs a real kiss, then?â Tina opened their lunch box and pulled up a knarled peanut butter and jelly sandwich. "Iâve kissed lots of people.â
âNo you havenât,â Nancy chimed in, âNo one has kissed lots of people in middle school!âÂ
âWhere did Carol kiss Tommy?â Barb deflected to appease her friends.
âOn the lips,â Tina added as she looked for Carol, âHey where is she anyway? She usually sits withâŠâ Tina stopped and let out a gasp as she pointed to where Carol had infiltrated the all-boys sports table that sat across the cafeteria from the table they were all at now, âSheâs gone rogue!âÂ
"Ew, how can she eat and look at them at the same time?â Barb nudged Y/N.Â
âI mean some of them are kinda cute,â Y/N whispered as she opened up her orange. Tinaâs eyes widened.Â
"WHAT??â The group turned to see what Tina was yelling about now. "Betrayal. Who has caused you to stray?â
âOOOOOooooâ Nancy giggled. "Does Miss Y/N like someone?â
"Oh my god who is it?â Tina pushed.Â
"Is it Kevin?â Nancy badgered.Â
"Is it Steve?â Barb raised a brow knowingly.
"Itâs definitely Kevin,â Tina rolled her eyes.
âIt is not Kevin,â Y/N said avoiding Barbâs look with everything she had in her, âHe yells too loud in gym." Tina laughed and swung an arm around their friend.Â
"Truth.â
"Then who is it?â Nancy leaned in. "We wonât tell anyone.â
"You donât have to tell us if you donât want too.â Barb nodded, understanding things perfectly. Barb was like that.Â
"Yes you do,â Tina laughed.
âI donât like anyone,â Y/N said as she shook her head with a smile, âI donât know anyone here like you guys do.âÂ
"You donât have to tell us, Y/N. It can be your secret until youâre ready.â Tina smiled at Y/N, assuring her.Â
âIâm going to be guessing every day,â Nancy shook her head and helped herself to another bite of pasta.Â
"What do you mean?â Tina asked with a lowered voice.
âI just have only been here for a couple months,â Y/N shrugged, âI havenât even spoken to a lot of the kids! Like I hadnât spoken to StâŠto a lot of people before today.â Nancy gasped.Â
"Oh my gosh. You do like Steve!â She giggled to herself.Â
"You like Steve?â Tina asked louder. Barb shook her head with a smile.Â
"You like him?â Tina scrunched her face up. "Why?â
âI do not like Steve!â Y/N said loudly, before going quiet again, âI do not. Heâs annoying and is a sports guy. We donât like the sports guys.â
"Who says we donât like sports guys?â Tina smiled.Â
"Heâs really cute, Y/N. I donât blame you.â Nancy winked.Â
"He is cute,â Barb affirmed.Â
"Whatâs got you hens clucking?â Carol had walked over, standing by the table with a superior hand on her hip.Â
âHi Carol,â Y/N greeted, glad for the distraction.Â
"I donât know if you guys heardâŠbut I kissed Tommy today,â Carol said with humility.
"We did hear. Congratulations!â Barb chirped.Â
âWas it good?â Nancy asked. âI feel like everyoneâs kissing and I need to start taking notes or something.â
âNance please,â Y/N scoffed as she smiled at her friend, âYou could kiss any boy you wanted here! Youâre smart and pretty and really kind!â Nancy blushed.Â
âThe same could be said for you, Y/N.â Carolâs eyes widened, turning to Y/N.Â
âYeah, really you could kiss anyone you wanted,â Carol winked at her, nodding her head back towards the others.Â
âJust because she could doesnât mean she should,â Tina teased.
âI donât think so Carol,â Y/N said with a little laugh, âIâm the new kid. Remember? Thatâs weird.âÂ
âBut youâre so wonderful,â Barb encouraged. âAnyone would be lucky to get a kiss from you.â Tina nodded with vigor.Â
âBarb. I love you. Grow up,â Carol put a hand on her shoulder.Â
âBe nice,â Y/N fake scolded as she scooted over so Carol could come to sit by her where she usually did, âJust because you had lunch with the sports boys now doesnât mean you can make fun of Barb.âÂ
âNo no, of course not. Barb knows that Iâm just kidding,â She smiled.Â
âYeah, youâre funny Carol,â Barb smiled and shoved the rest of her sandwich into her bag. The bell rang right after, telling all the kids to get a move on to their next class.
âNancy,â Y/N called to the girl who was chatting with Barb, âYou ready for math?âÂ
âYeah for sure,â Nancy said as she grabbed her things and the two girls took off down the hall.
Oh god, Y/N thought, Steve is gonna be in mathâŠShe was sure to hide behind Nancy and Barb as she entered the classroom. Steve sat up straighter when he saw her friends walk in, slightly confused as to why she looked like she was hiding behind them. She tried to walk over to her usual deskâŠbut it was that time of the week when they got new seats assigned andâŠ
âOh god,â she whispered as she found herself sitting right next to Steve Harrington and Tommy H.Â
âHiya L/N,â Tommy leaned over, practically falling out of his chair if Steve hadnât yanked him up by the collar of his shirt.Â
âDude, chill.â Steve looked at Y/N and mumbled a little âSorry.â Nancy shook her head with disapproval. Barb pulled Nancy over to their assigned seats on the other side of the room, not wanting to get caught up in all of that, leaving Y/N to her lonesome.Â
âHi Tommy,â Y/N shot back as she made sure her books were in order for todayâs lesson. If there was one thing her mother had taught her it was to never be rude and even though she had never spoken to Tommy before and never even intended to, not speaking when spoken to, that was rude.Â
âHow are you today?â Tommy spun around in his chair, pleased that he was getting some kind of reaction from her. âAny fun stories to share with us? About⊠the proposition-â
âDude!â Steve scolded.
âNo,â Y/N replied, not bothering to look at either one of them.Â
âReally?â He swiveled to look at Steve. âHarrington, what about you?â
âHey Y/N?â Barb got up and walked over to Y/N, purposefully placing herself between Tommy and Y/N. âI cannot figure out number seventeen for the life of me. Would you be able to help me?â
âYeah,â Y/N smiled at Barb, thankful for the distraction, âOk so if youâre looking for the supplementary angle of 30 degrees youâre going to want to subtract it from 180 since thatâs a straight line so that would make it?âÂ
â150,â Barb smiled, âThatâs what I thought. Thanks Y/N!âÂ
âNo problem!â Y/N beamed and passed Barb her worksheet back.Â
âY/N, you're so smart, can you help me with a problem?â Tommy got up and walked over to lean in front of her desk.
âTommy, weâre really not supposed to leave our groups of three,â Nancy crossed her arms.Â
âBut everyone in my groups is a dumbass-â
âHey!â Steve scolded. â I am not a dumbass!â
âSure Tommy,â Y/N cut Steve off, wanting this to be over as soon as possible, âwhich one?âÂ
âOh god,â He groaned. â I guess I need your help with all of them. Either that or you can fulfill your end of the dare,â He chuckled, pleased with himself when Barb and Nancyâs faces were riddled with confusion.
âWhat are you talking about?â Nancy chirped.Â
âLittle Miss Goody Goody wants to know what Iâm talking about,â Tommy looked at his friends, who were all egging them on with the exception of Steve who was turning a deep shade of red.Â
âHey stop it,â Y/N turned and snapped at Tommy much to his surprise, âEither ask me a question or go away and leave Nancy alone.âÂ
âI donât need your help,â Nancyâs breath quickened with humiliation.Â
âHey, I didnât do anything,â Tommy whined. âWhy is she crying? Guys, why do girls cry all the time?â Tommy snickered.Â
âThatâs quite enough,â Mrs. Ford walked over. âTommy, sit and do your work,â She talked to him like you would a baby. Mrs. Ford was always easier on the boys.Â
âAnything for you Mrs. Ford,â He shook his head and walked back to his group.
âAre you okay?â Y/N asked Nancy quietly. Nancy managed to nod her head.
âThanks,â she managed as quietly as possible. Steve could not feel worse about the whole thing. He couldnât even concentrate on his math - which was a usual occurrence. But this time it was not a fun time. When the bell rang for dismissal, he tried to find the group of three girls to apologize, but they had already finished their work and left for the library before the bell rang.Â
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The rest of the day passed quickly. Nancyâs spirits were easily regained at the mention of the big sleepover she was hosting that night and now luckily it was time to go. Y/N was so excited she had totally forgotten about the fact that she had promised Steve she would kiss him after everyone had left school. But Steve hadnât. Normally she would have left, but she promised her favorite teacher, Mr. Clark, that she would help fix some A.V. equipment that was damaged after a volleyball was thrown by a certain Tommy H. Her other friend, Jeff, was in the A.V. club and had also volunteered his time.Â
âThank you both so much for your patience and help,â Mr. Clark beamed at the bright students. I made you both some chocolate fudge, if youâll give me a moment, I can send you both on your way.â
âThanks, Mr.Clark!â Y/N beamed
âThanks, Mr.Clark. Bye Y/N,â Jeff waved politely and left the room out to meet his mom.Â
âBye, Jeff! Bye Y/N! Do you need me to call someone-â
âNope!â Y/N yelled, halfway out the door as Jeff drove off with his mom, âIâm gonna put stuff in my locker and then bike to Nancyâs house! Thanks, Mr.Clark! See you next week!âÂ
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Steve was about to give up all hope.Â
Of course, she left. After Tommy was such an idiot to her I donât blame her in the slightest. He banged his fist against a locker when he heard Y/N say something.Â
No way thatâs her. Just to be sure he made his way down the hallway slightly, and lo and behold, Y/N L/N had just left Mr. Clarkâs classroom. She was walking towards her locker, a tupperware of some kind in her hand as she opened the locker to grab what appeared to be a duffle bag of some sort before closing the door again.Â
âHey Y/N,â He said. Maybe she didnât hear me. âY/N?â Y/N paused and turned, her eyes going as big as Steve had ever seen them as she turned to face him.Â
âSteve?âÂ
âHeyâŠ.umâŠ.how are you?â Youâre such a dumbass. Oh my god. Can you not actually say it to her face?
âWhy are you here?â She asked, holding the duffle bag closer to her chest as she looked at him.Â
âWhatâs that for?â He pointed to the duffle.
âOh,â she said as she looked at the bag, subconsciously letting go of it a bit more, âIâm going to Nancyâs for a sleepover tonight. A couple of us are.âÂ
âOh, thatâs cool. Thatâs cool.â He nodded. She was smiling to be polite, but he could tell that she wanted to leave. âI donât know if you remember this morningâŠweâŠyou were going to be my first kiss?âÂ
âI thought you said this wasnât gonna be your first,â She said as she turned her head to the side a bit, looking at him as her smile grew to a more genuine one.Â
âWellâŠ.I lied,â He gave in to her smile. Oh⊠I guess sheâs not all mean. âYeahâŠI was embarrassed. I thought that youâd think I was lame.â Why am I saying all this shit to her?
âWhy would I think that was lame?â She asked as she set the bag down next to her locker along with the tupperware, âAnd why do you care what I think anyway? Youâre Steve Harrington!âÂ
âI donât knowâŠâ He trailed off. Wait why do I care what she thinks? âI mean I donât care. At all. But you said you would do it.â He felt her anxiousness grow at his shift in tone. âIf you still want to. Sorry. Please?â
âYou waited all this time forâŠâ Y/N thought and he swore he could watch the gears spin in her brain as she looked at him before nodding, âYeah I mean, you held up your end so. Iâll hold up mine.âÂ
âAwesome!â He said excitedly. âI mean cool. Thanks. Youâre cool for this.â He cleared his throat and waited for her.Â
âThanks,â she said as she just looked at him, âSoâŠâÂ
âSo what?â He shrugged.Â
âSo are you gonna kiss me?âÂ
âWellâŠ. I thought you wereâŠ.I donât really knowâŠ.what to do,â He looked at his shoes sheepishly. âCan we go outside?â
âUh yeah,â she nodded as she grabbed her bag, shocked that Steve Harrington didnât have a plan for what to do, âSure.â The pair walked down the long hallway in silence, their steps echoing. Neither said a thing. Steve did sort of open the door for her and the two walked by the parking lot, the sun hanging rather low in the sky.
âIt smells better out here,â He looked at her, âWhat are your favorite smells?â Idiot, he critiqued himself about to take it back for how lame that sounded when-
âVanilla,â she said as she looked at him, admiring him and the way the golden sun made his freckles stand out, âAnd citrus. Anything citrus.âÂ
âOoo yeah. I like oranges the best,â He saw a slight blush come to her cheeks. He knew it was reflected on him much to his embarrassment. âUmâŠsoâŠcount of three?â He looked at his shoes.Â
âOk,â She nodded as she continued to look at him.Â
âOneâŠ..â He kicked a pebble. Y/N didnât say a word feeling her heart rate speed up as she realized that she was really going to kiss Steve.Â
âTwoâŠ.â He cleared his throat. âWait.â Y/N froze as he said wait, worried for a second that this was a joke, some sort of prank. It could be. Tommy was mean enough for it but she knew at the end of the day Steve had always been the ringleader even if he was quieter about it. âMy breath probably smells like salami," Steve said with a sigh, "But itâs not like-I always brush my teeth. My dentist says I donât but heâs a liar. I didnâtâŠthink about brushing my teeth. Iâm sorry.â Out of some sort of tension Y/N let out a giggle and Steve realized it was the first time he had heard her laugh.Â
âOh my gosh,â Y/N whispered through giggles as she put her head in her hands, âI thought you were going to tell me this wasâŠnevermind.âÂ
âOne,â Steve took a step forward. âYou ready?â
âYeah,â Y/N nodded as she looked at him, trying to let any hesitation fade. Itâs just so Steve can win a thing and maybe Carol will shut upâŠand he did meet you hereâŠafter school with no one watchingâŠwait so then what good will it do him? No one is gonna believe-
âY/N? Are you okay?â He absentmindedly grabbed her hand with concern. âWe donât have tooâŠâ
âSteve, no one is gonna believe you,â Y/N said as she looked at him with concern written on her face, âYou donât have to kiss me, you know. You donât have to do this. Itâs not gonna get you anything.âÂ
âBut...I want to,â He said. Wait I do? I want to kiss her?Â
âYou do?â Y/N asked, her eyes going wide as she looked up at him with all concern fading away.Â
âListen if you donât want to, we donât have to,â His embarrassment colored his cheeks a faint pink. And from some courageous spot deep within Y/Nâs heart, and probably a lot of adrenaline and a want for this to be over, she grabbed the collar of his shirt and pulled him in to place a quick peck on his lips, pulling away as quickly as she had pulled him in. Steveâs blush only grew. He looked at her with shock, not actually expecting her to. She always had a way of surprising him. He couldnât think of something cool to say.Â
âWellâŠcool. Um⊠have fun at your sleepover.â
âThanks,â Y/N said as she realized she was still holding onto his collar. She let go and quickly grabbed her duffle bag heading off toward her bikeâŠbut she couldnât help herself but to turn back and steal a look at him. He wanted to wave. He thought he waved. He couldnât actually remember whether or not he waved. But he did know that he watched her ride her bike all the way over the hill, the spring-summer sun shining on her short brown curls. Once she disappeared, he shook it off.Â
âCheck,â He went to ride home and call Tommy.
And that's it! It's so very odd to write for Steve but I'm glad I did it because this was too cute not to share! Hope y'all enjoyed the fluff!
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Oh boy! This was so sweetttttttđ„șđ„șđ„șđ„șđ„ș Him being the most supportive and caring boyfriend comforting R is so jsjskskskkskskskskdjsjdjxjxjdjdk! Love this!!!!!
Iâm Here, Right Here
Pairing: Steve Harrington X gn!Reader
Summary: Steve comforts you after a rough day.
Warnings: Mentions of the reader crying, being upset + tired + overworked, one curse word
Word Count: 1.3k
a/n: i hope yâall like this ! also, feel free to send any requests you have for steve (or anyone i else i write for) to my inbox !
the gif below does not belong to me
The very second you got home that evening, you went straight into the bedroom in you and Steveâs apartment and laid down. And once your head hit your pillow, you finally felt safe enough to let the tears that you had been holding back for the past thirty minutes fall.
In this moment, you were kind of glad that Steve wasnât here to see you cry. And while you knew that it wasnât a bad thing to cry, it was still something youâd rather do alone.
This week had been the absolute worst. Mostly because your boss had put even more work onto your already heavy workload. According to him, a bunch of people had recently quit and until replacements were hired, you would have to do their work.
You were only five days into this new workload and you were already extremely exhausted. And today was the breaking point, your boss had told you that you would have to present at a convention next week, alone.
You hadnât told Steve about this new workload at all because you knew how much he worried about you and this was something you wanted to deal with on your own. Besides, you had kind of hoped that if you did all this work, that maybe youâd be promoted.
But you knew Steve would find out eventually, he was supposed to be home from work in just twenty minutes after all.
And the longer you cried, the more you wanted Steve to come home. You wanted him to comfort you, take care of you, make you feel like everything was going to be alright. Like he always did when you were feeling shitty.
ââââââââââââ
Just thirty minutes or so after you had initially started crying, you heard Steve open the front door. You tried to silence or at least muffle your cries by placing one of your hands over your mouth and nose, but it was no use. So you let your hand drop down to the bed, a deep frown appearing on your face as Steve started to walk further into your apartment.
He was about to call out for you when he heard the sound of your cries coming from the bedroom, prompting him to quickly set his things down and go to you. He felt panicked as he made his way to where you were. He wondered what happened and who or what caused your tears.
The second he entered the bedroom and his eyes met your sad face, his heart broke. He hated seeing you this way, it tore him up inside. But you never needed to know that.
âOh, baby.â he quietly said as he walked over to your side of the bed and his knees crashed into the plush carpet below him.
He began to softly hold your face in one his hands while he leaned over and kissed some of your tears away, making a subtle smile appear on your face. You already felt a little better now that Steve was home.
âWhatâs wrong?â he asked you while he stroked your wet cheek with his thumb, pure worry in his eyes and in his voice.
You slowly sat up and he let his hand fall from your face, opting to hold one of your hands instead. You knew you had to tell Steve what was happening, you couldnât keep pretending like everything was okay.
You took a deep breath then started to speak, âI didnât want you to worry, so Iâve been keeping this to myself. But thereâs something I need to tell you.â you said, your eyes hesitantly looking over to meet his.
âWhat is it, (y/n)?â he asked while he slowly stood up, now feeling the urgent need to hold you.
You took the time Steve was using to pick you up so that he could hold you in your bed to muster up the courage to tell him everything.
âSome of my co-workers recently quit and my boss is making me take on their work loads until he hires replacements. This has been going on for five days now and Iâm just so tired, Steve.â you told him, pressing your forehead into his shoulder towards the end of your explanation.
While Steve listened to what you had to say, he held you tighter in his arms, wanting you to feel safe, comforted and comfortable.
âDo you want me to talk to your boss? He shouldnât be doing this to you. Itâs not fair.â Steve sternly said, his eyebrows a little furrowed.
âNo, you donât need to talk to talk to him, Stevie. And I know itâs unfair but thereâs some part of me that hopes that heâll promote me for doing all of this extra work.â you replied as you removed your head from his shoulder, making him aware of more of your feelings.
Steve nodded, he understood what you meant. He understood what it was like to pretend youâre fine with overworking yourself in hopes of your boss appreciating you more. And like you had done for him, he was going to help you get through this.
He gently cupped your face in his hands then kissed the rest of your tears away, not stopping until he reached your lips. He then looked directly into your eyes, an idea on his mind.
âWhat if we use the next 5 days as a staycation?â he suggested while he raised one of his eyebrows.
Your face contorted with worry right away, âBut what if my boss fires me? I donât want to loose my job and I donât want you to loose yours either.â you answered, your eyebrows now furrowing, making you look sadder.
He softly shushed you as he brought you closer to him and laid down, your head now resting on his warm chest, âDonât worry about it, honey. Iâll take care of everything. You need to rest, let me take care of you.â he said while he began to gently trace circles into your back.
You let out a shaky deep breath at the sound of that, you knew Steve was right, âOkay.â you softly replied, not having any energy left to fight him on this.
By this point your tears had stopped and you now felt a lot better, like Steve had lifted a weight off of your shoulders. You could finally let yourself relax for the first time this entire week.
You both were extremely glad that you were able to be there for each other whenever you needed one another.
âIâll be here for you every step of the way, alright?â he whispered against your temple before pressing a kiss there, making you smile.
âI know, Stevie. Thank you.â you said, thinking of the time you had made that promise to Steve when he was overworking himself almost nine months ago.
And while the two of you continued to cuddle, Steve thought of a plan for the rest of the evening, âI have another plan.â he told you, causing you to perk up.
âOh, you do?â you jokingly teased, one of your eyebrows raised like his had been not too long ago.
He laughed at your actions, happy to see your personality peaking out again, âYes, actually.â he said, speaking with a sarcastic tone and a bright smile on his face, âI was thinking we could maybe take a nap together then order some takeout for dinner. How does that sound?â he suggested to you, his smile a bit fainter now but still there.
âThat sounds perfect.â you say in response, happily snuggling back into Steve while you spoke.
He let out a quiet chuckle through his nose and held you tightly in his arms once more, âIâm here, right here for you and I always will be, I promise.â he quietly said, making your cheeks heat up at the feeling of his lips moving against your skin.
âAnd Iâll always be here for you, Stevie.â you told him in response as he smiled once again, not wanting him to feel like this support was one sided.
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EXCUSE ME BUT WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK??????????
OH MY GOD IâM ACTUALLY SHKAINGSJSKDKXMSMXKXMCKSKCKDK THIS IS MAKING ME SO FUCKING FERAL RIGTJ NOW I CANâT TUPE OROOERLY SKDOSKDKAKSKXKKDKXIJFKFKCKC
I AM OBSESSED WITH THE COPIER IDEA SKSKDKXKXKXKCKCK I DID NOT THINK SOMETHING LIKE THAT COUKD BE THAT HOT BUT GOD DID YOU MAKE IT WORK and leave me panting lmao THE ENDING WAS SO FUCKING HOT AND THOSE GLIMPSES OF HIM BEING THE SOFTEST GUY EVER JEEEEEEEESUS! BECAUSE HE CANâT EVER BE TRULY MEAN IS MAKUNG MELTTTT
This was amazing you did an AWESOME job!!!!đđđđđ
Anything You Want | Steve Harrington
Mr. Harrington's Secretary AU | 18+ No Minors
Summary: Steve stops by when his father isn't in the office asking for your help with the copier.
TW: FemReader. BJ, Fingering, Tiddy Fucking, P In V Cream Pie. Dirty Talk.
WC: 3909
âYour father isnât here, Steven.â
His name has you looking up from the thick file spread across your desk. Steve Harrington is standing across the room, his tall body leaning forward, one hand on the older womanâs desk, the other behind his back, holding a small paper bag.
âWell, arenât you looking nice today, Lorna,â his words drip with sugar. The gray-haired office manager peers over her glasses at him, her ordinarily sour face softening faster than a ripe avocado.Â
Heâs been finding excuses to visit you at work since the first time he found you standing alone at one of the events the company threw semi-regularly. A bunch of rich men congratulating each other on being masters of the universe, dragging along their trophy wives and other accouterments. In John Harringtonâs case, that included his charming, handsome son, who would follow in his footsteps, and the hot young secretary that everyone assumed he was chasing around the desk. What the other men telling bad jokes and drinking top shelf scotch didnât know is that the son wanted nothing to do with his fatherâs business and the secretary wasnât putting out.Â
âIs that a new blouse?â He asks, brushing a little of that golden-brown hair off his forehead, giving her every ounce of his attention.
âIt is. I got from the JC Penny last weekend,â she giggles like a woman half her age as he leans closer, giving her that winning Harrington smile.
âI thought so,â he winks, âMy dad asked me to pick up a copy of the file he needs, and on my way here, I passed the bakery over on Main, so I stopped in and got your favorite.â He pulls the paper bag out from behind his back and sets it on the desk in front of Lorna.Â
Her eyes widen, and her mouth forms an O as she pinches the top of the bag and slides it closer, âThank you, Steven. That was so thoughtful.â
âMy pleasure,â he says, rapping his knuckles on her desk twice before straightening and turning towards you, âDo you have that file ready?â
âWhich file was that?â you ask, trying to hide your amused smile.
âI think you know,â his tongue darts out, wetting his plush lips as he casually strolls over to your desk.
âHmmm,â you tap your index finger against your mouth, âYes, I think I know which one. I still need to make a copy.â
âI can do it,â Lorna calls from her desk, the paper bag crinkling as she pulls out a fluffy cupcake piled high with chocolate frosting.Â
âYou just enjoy that. Iâll give her a hand,â Steve calls over his shoulder, not taking his eyes off you.Â
Shuffling some papers, you pull a green file folder from the bottom of the stack and hug it to your chest as you push away from your desk, âThank you, Steven. That would be very helpful.â
His lips twist with a smirk as he follows you down the hall to the copy room, watching your hips sway in the tight skirt that hugs your ass just right.
The overhead fluorescents pop and hum when you flip the switch and step inside the small room with Steve coming in after you, reaching back to twist the lock on the door handle without even looking.Â
âWhereâs my cupcake?â You ask, batting your lashes and tossing the file on top of one of the two copiers that fill the space.
âYour mouth is going to be too busy for cupcakes,â his hand wraps around the back of your neck, pulling you close as his lips seal over yours. He wastes no time. His tongue pushes inside, stealing your breath. His muscles tense under your fingers as you move your hands up and down his polo-covered chest and moan into the kiss.Â
âWe have to be quiet, honey,â his kisses slow to soft pecks, âCanât have Lorna figuring out your cumming on company time.â
âOh, is that whatâs happening?â
With his thumb and forefinger holding your chin, he ghosts his lips over yours, âTurn around and put your hands on the copier.â
Taking a moment to consider, you look up at him from under your lashes while letting your hand run down from the center of his chest to the hard bulge in his pants. The corner of your mouth rises when you feel him twitching in his jeans. With a shiver, you let him go and turn around. Exaggerating your movements, you place both hands on the glass plate arching your back and widening your stance as you lean forward. He drops down behind you, wrapping his hands around the front of your knees, drawing circles on the back with his thumbs.Â
âThat tickles,â you giggle, squirming in his hold.Â
âShhh,â he reminds you, lips placing an open-mouthed kiss on your calf. The slight roughness of his palms leaves your smooth skin tingling as his hands start their torturously slow slide up your legs, the tip of his nose dragging behind his thumb just before the wet press of his lips and tongue. Heâs careful to leave no gaps, mouth a damp trail up the back of your thigh. The material of your skirt bunches against his wrists, rising with his hands. His thumbs tease the hem of your high-cut lace panties as your skirt is pushed higher until itâs rucked up around your hips. He nips the curve between your ass and thigh and soothes it with his tongue before brushing his nose over your center, breathing you in. Slick soaks your panties as you anticipate him pulling them to the side and licking into you, but those big hands stay gripping your hips, and his mouth moves along your pantyline, sucking at the flesh of your ass.
âSteve.â
âWhat is it, honey?â His question is followed by the pinch of his teeth.Â
âI need you,â you complain, reaching back, running your fingers through his hair, giving it a tug when he pays you no heed.Â
âSo impatient,â he scolds, rising to his full height, holding you around the middle, sweetly kissing your temple, âBe good for just a little longer. I need a picture of my pretty girl for my wallet.â
âA picture? Wha-â
He spins you around quickly and cuts you off with his hungry lips, his hands slide down your waist until they wrap around the back of your thighs, and he lifts you onto the copier. A squeak of protest passes from your mouth to his when your hot skin comes in contact with the cool glass, and you rock from side to side, but he doesnât relent. Holding you in place with a hand on your neck, his tongue tangles with yours, keeping you focused on his kiss as his other hand starts the copier whirring. A light flashes under you, moving from left to right, followed by the whoosh and click of papers printed with a black and white copy of the globes of your ass barely covered by your underwear.Â
âThatâs what you wanted?â you giggle against his lips.
âUh-huh,â he smiles, ending the kiss by resting his forehead against yours, âbut thatâs not the only thing I want.â His hand smooths up your thigh until he can rub over the damp patch on your panties. His smirk returns when your mouth drops open, and you inhale sharply.
âYouâre so pretty like this.â He moves his hand away from where you want it and uses the backs of his fingers to brush your heated cheek.Â
âSo soft,â his index finger trails from the collar of your silky shirt until he reaches the first button where itâs joined by the fingers from his other hand, âBut not as soft as whatâs underneath.â He leans forward, attaching his lips to your neck while he works them open. His mouth moves lower as he spreads open your shirt, kissing down the swell of your breast to the edge of the delicate lace. He pulls away to take in the sight of what heâs just uncovered.
âBeautiful,â the word floats breathy from his lips as he unhooks the metal clasp between your tits. Peeling back one side at a time, his eyes turn dreamy and heavy-lidded as he drinks you in. His hands move to cup your breasts, loving the way you fill them. The first touch of his lips against your pebbled nipple has the breath rushing from your lungs in a quiet whine. He sucks hard while swirling his tongue, a satisfied hum rumbling from his throat.Â
âOh, fuuu,â you bite down on your lip to keep from cursing. He smiles against you, taking his time before moving to your other side, sucking until youâre tipping your head back and arching into him. The copier creaks as you squirm, trying to relieve the growing ache.
âPlease,â clutching at shoulders, pulling his head up so you can look into his eyes, âPlease, Steve.â
His breath comes quickly through parted lips that hover an inch from yours. The inky black of his pupils crowds out the hazel. He reaches out to trace your kiss-stung bottom lip with the pad of his thumb, but you hold his large hand between both of yours and suck his thumb into your mouth.Â
âHow about a few more pictures? With my hands on you. Would you like that?âÂ
Whining in desperate confirmation, your hands join his on the copier to lift your hips and slide down your panties. They only make it to mid-thigh when youâre grabbing his hand and pressing it to your needy cunt.Â
âJesus,â his fingers part your wet lips to explore your slippery folds, âYouâre dripping onto the glass.â
He curls back his other fingers, so just his index and middle circle your clit before sliding down to tease your entrance. Your grip on his wrist tightens as you whimper, rocking your hips, trying to get him inside you.Â
âAll this from a few kisses?â
Two thick fingers push inside you, replacing the ache with a stretch. He keeps going, curving his fingers to reach the spot that only heâs been able to find, deep enough that his thumb can rub circles around your pulsing bundle of nerves. It takes every ounce of your will to not cry out at the onslaught of pleasure.Â
âThere you go, honey. Iâll always give you what you want.â
Fisting the front of his shirt, you draw him closer, eyes fluttering closed as your lips connect and your tongue slides against his. Blue-green flashes permeate the darkness behind your lids as the machine captures images of his fingers disappearing inside you. More wetness trickles, aiding his movements when you realize all this is to satisfy his need to have you even when youâre apart.
âYou make me feel so good,â you whisper, taking his bottom lip between yours.
âYeah?â He asks, licking into your mouth, increasing the pace of his fingers, âAm I gonna make you cum?âÂ
âMmmhmm,â you moan around his lips and tongue as your inner muscles tighten, and you begin your climb. With your fingers running through the hair at the nape of his neck, you relax into his kiss. Thereâs no need to chase it, you can trust him to get you there. He always does.Â
âThatâs it,â he says, feeling you fluttering around him, âYou get so tight,â his fingers donât stop even when the lighting hits and your legs shake, âGive me just a little more.â
Clutching onto him, your fingers dig into his skin as your body jolts uncontrollably. He covers your mouth with his trying to muffle your cries, and keeps working you until you just canât âitâs too much. His fingers slow to a gentle in and out, his thumb comes off your clit. He lets you come down, resting his forehead against yours, tiny kisses wherever his lips can reach without moving you.Â
âIâm going to lunch,â Lorna shouts, her voice slightly muffled behind the closed door.
âOkay,â you yell, grinning at Steve, shaking your head, âWeâre almost done.â
âSheâs coming,â he calls, as his thumb taps your clit, sending an aftershock rocketing through you.
âAlright. Back in an hour,â she hollers right before the outer office door squeaks and clicks shut.
The smug look on his face has you pushing at his shoulder, silently scolding him. He chuckles, his face taking on a well-practiced look of innocence even as he pulls his finger from inside you and licks them clean. He kisses you once to share the taste before helping you down from the copier.
âCan you hand me my underwear?âÂ
âWeâre not done,â his hands close over your fingers, stopping you from straightening your clothes, âI have an idea. Come with me.â
He twists the lock on the door handle, sticking his head out to confirm the office is empty, and grabs your hand pulling you out of the copier room, barely dressed.Â
âSteeeve,â you squeal as you move through the empty office, gripping the front of your shirt to keep it closed until youâre standing in front of Mr. Harringtonâs locked office door.
âWhere did you get that?â Your eyes widen when he pulls a key from his pocket and inserts it smoothly into the lock. The corner of his mouth raises in a sly smile as the door opens, and he ushers you inside, closing the door behind you.
The blinds are drawn with their slats partially open, creating vertical lines of light against the navy blue carpet and large cherry desk. Steve flips one of the switches next to the door, turning on the three two stained glass lamps that flank the large built-in bookcase behind the desk, lighting up the room with soft light.Â
âWhatâs this idea?â The slickness between your legs, reminding you still have another hour before anyone will return. Steve planned this well.
âWell,â he pulls out the high-backed leather chair from the desk, turning towards the side before sitting with his legs spread wide, hands moving to his belt, âWhat do you think? Wanna get on your knees for me, honey?â
âHmmm,â you pretend to consider his offer as you round the desk trailing your fingertips on the shiny finish of the desk, moving until youâre standing between his parted legs, looking down at the outline of the hard cock straining against his jeans. Gripping the top of the chair, you lean it back, bending slightly, bringing you level with his face. His hands move to your open shirt, pushing it back away from your breasts so he can knead them. His mouth chases yours, but you deny him, nipping his top lip lightly before slowly dropping to your knees.Â
âFuck,â his hips jump as you pop open the button on his jeans and slide down the zipper.
âIs this why I didnât get a cupcake?â You pout, tugging at the waistband of his jeans and boxers, and he raises his hips so you can slip them down, his thick length bobbing out from his body finally freed. Pink with a long veiny shaft thatâs just as pretty as the rest of him.Â
âOh, I think what youâre getting is a much bigger treat.â His eyes close for a moment as your hand wraps around the base, and you kiss the smooth, shiny tip. Itâs your turn to smirk when his lids open revealing eyes that are almost black. Opening your mouth, you stick out your tongue, letting it sweep around the head before licking up and down the length.Â
âMmm,â the vibrations from your lips tease his sensitive spot, âI think youâre right.â You take another long lick before finally taking as much of him as you can into the wet heat of your mouth, hollowing your cheeks while your hand works the base.
A groan rumbles from behind his clenched teeth, âLook at you,â he smooths some hair back from your face as you bob up and down on his cock, âI bet every man in this office wants to see you like this, but youâre mine,â his hips rise, fucking into your mouth, âThey canât have you.â
Sticking your tongue out, you let him use your mouth until your jaw starts to ache. He doesnât stop flexing when you switch to your hand, licking at his slit, running your tongue along the underside until reaching the base to gently suck one of his heavy balls.Â
âChrist,â his fingers tightly grip the leather arm of the chair as the precum starts leaking from his tip, and you move your mouth back up his shaft, collecting it before it drips. He sneaks a hand between you, rolling your nipple with the rough pads of his fingers, the zap of electricity that shoots to your core, highlighting how wet and needy youâve become.Â
Pulling back, you rise higher on your knees, smiling as you run your hands up from your hips to the softness of your chest. Steveâs breath hitches, and his lips part as you lean forward, fitting his cock in the valley of your breasts, pushing them together, bouncing them up and down his shaft.
âJesus-fuck-baby,â his words string together, his hips jumping in the chair involuntarily. A whimper comes from you at the sight of his rudy leaking tip sliding up your chest, your tongue snaking out to chase it.Â
âFuck, thatâs enough,â he pants, using his feet to push the chair back, the wheels squeaking. He stares at you breathing hard, and you know how wild you must look. Hair a mess. Lips red and swollen. Clothes open and askew.
âBend over the desk. I want to feel you squeezing me when I cum.â
Desperation launches you both into a flurry. Steve stands quickly, shoving his pants further down his thighs, sending the desk chair careening backward into a bookcase. While youâre off the floor, positioning yourself over the polished wooden desk, tugging your skirt high around your waist, pushing back your hips, ready to take anything heâll give you.Â
âPleaââ
âIâm here,â he wraps a hand around your thigh, bringing one of your knees to the edge of the desk, opening your sticky wetness to the cool air, âI wonât make you wait.â
With a hand around his base, he glides through your folds, back and forth, making you throb until his tip catches at your entrance and pushes in slowly, letting you feel every ridge, every vein, every inch of him. Your muscles stretch and clench, trying to draw him in deeper.Â
âThatâs it, good girl. Take it all,â he groans, moving until heâs bottomed out and his hips are pressed tight against you. Through the thick fog of lust and need, thereâs a brief moment spent savoring the connection before he begins to move in long, hard strokes, pulling out almost all the way before driving in with the snap of his hips. The desk jerks across the carpet, and an organizer falls, spilling its contents, pens embossed with Harrington roll under the furniture. White dots burst in your vision with every thrust. Youâre burning for him. He struck the match the evening you met, and youâll never have enough.Â
âThis is where I belong,â his hand slides around your hip, pressing down just above your pubic bone, feeling himself moving inside you, âRight here in your warm cunt. Want you to feel me for the rest of the day,â his fingers move lower until theyâre drawing circles over your clit, âI need you to cum for me.âÂ
His rhythm picks up, making the fire burn hotter. Your body tightens, obeying him without giving you a choice. Twisting to look over your shoulder, you grab at his shirt, bringing him closer until your gasping mouths meet.
 âAnything,â itâs a whisper against his lips, a spark from the blaze.
âWhat, honey?â The question rises with the smoke.
âAnything you want.â
A line creases his brow, and thereâs something behind his eyes, but itâs gone in an instant. He spins you back around, wrapping an arm around your middle, pulling your back flush against his chest, your knee falling from the desk. Heâs holding you together when youâre so close to falling apart. His mouth moves up your neck to your ear.
âJust want this,â he adds more pressure to the hand working between your thighs. Tiny circles that feel closer to a cyclone, âJust want you,â he moves in short bursts like he canât bear to leave, right at the edge, swelling inside you, âAlways want you.â
You let go into the white-hot flame, but youâre not alone. It consumes you both. Crying out, you quake around him, feeling his hot release, hearing his satisfied groans. Your bodies writhe until all thatâs left is embers. The wall clocks measured ticks seem louder, the only sound in the now quiet room apart from both of your shuddering breaths.
He presses a kiss to the silk covering your shoulder and begins slipping away. Your muscles contract in protest, trying to keep him longer, but heâs right. Once heâs gone, you can still feel him. He moves around you, helping you clean up, straightening the disarray.
âWhy are you still here, Steven?â Lorna frowns disapprovingly at the way Steve is perched on the corner of her desk, with one of her picture frames in his hand.
âIs this your daughter?âÂ
She snatches the frame from his hand as you quietly make your way back from the restroom with all your buttons buttoned and hair smoothed back into place. Taking your seat you pick up the small stack of photocopies tapping them on the desk to straighten them.Â
âDoesnât your father need that file?â She questions.
âThatâs right he does,â he snaps his fingers like he just remembered,â I better get going. I just didnât want to leave this pretty girl all alone,â he looks over his shoulder at you, giving you a wink. She sighs loudly and goes about settling at her desk.Â
The black and white images of his hands and your panties are hidden when you fold the papers into thirds before stuffing them in an envelope and holding it in the air, waiting for him to come and take it from you. Looking smug, he wanders over collecting his prize from your outstretched hand.
âListen,â he says, leaning close, keeping his voice low, âCan I take you out tonight? Buy you dinner?â
âHmm, that depends, Steven,â you busy yourself with the files on the desk, âIs there going to be dessert?â
âIâll pick you up at six,â the confident Harrington smile stretches across his face. He doesnât say anything else, just a wave to Lorna as he disappears through the door, envelope in hand. Your eyes follow him through the window glass, watching as he ducks into his BMW and drives off.
âAhem,â Lorna clears her throat, breaking you from your stare, âIâd nip that in the bud if I were you. That boyâs got a crush, and itâs gonna lead to nothing but trouble.â
âOf course,â you say, turning towards the screen of your word processor, fingers clicking across the keyboard as you type up a letter. Satisfied with your answer she goes back to her work. Glancing up at the clock, you count the hours until six, the ache between your thighs reminds you that trouble is exactly what you want.
@loveshotzz @superblysubpar @boomhauer @myobmaya @litereader
Secertary AU Masterlist Here
If you've enjoyed this fic, please reblog and leave a comment. I'd love to hear from you. Let me know if you'd like to see more of the secretary reader.
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I am doing this again because there is nOT ENOUGH APPRECIATION FOR TGESE AMAZING WRITERS IN OUR FANDOM.
So I did a part 1 but I didnât include all the ones I wanted since it got too long jsskkskskskdksnxk sooooooo hereâs a part 2 of all the fics which absolutely PLAGUE my mind and you NEED to check these out and show them your love!! I have said this before Iâll say it again telling writers you like their writing with just a simple reblog or a good comment MATTERS so much more than you know. So I better see you guys showering writers with love on their fics! While I did make this for myself because Iâm building a little âšcollectionâš I hope this helps anyone whoâs looking for more fics to read!!!
(Minors this is your cue to not be anywhere around here if I see you interacting Iâll tell yo mama!)
Recs under the cut <3
Her body is Bible by @superblysubpar - DEAD. ASCENDED TO ANOTHER PLANE. MET GOD. DIED. BROUGHT BACK TO LIFE JESUS STYLE. LOST ALL COHERENCE FOR A GOOD FEW DAYS. (18+)
Amuse and romance me like you do by @heartthrobinsfics - I have re-read this whole fic from start to finish so many times dkksckkxmfkdkckdkf the slow burn was really slow burning and ACCURACY in characterisation Family Video Steve has alllllll my heart
Single thread part 1 part 2 part 3 by @headkiss - Spiderman AU Steve I love you so much it hurts! The slow burn is so fkskfkskfkskdkskxkdkdkkdkckfkfskdkxkfk! And heâs just so đ„ș ahhhhh OBSESSED with this whole Universe! (18+)
Rules are meant to be broken by @funnylittlelad - I read this whole series on AO3 and my GOD this deserves so much more love!!!! The complicated relationships with parents the angst is so delicious I am in LOVE with this.
This blurb by @stevebabey - The way I have NEVER felt more represented as I was here. Being a #losergf is a tough job but someoneâs gotta do it
If you loved me, whyâd you leave me part 1 part 2 by @1986harrington - I have to say reading the first part actually made me wanna lie down in the rain for like a couple of hours because the ANGSTđ€đ»đ€đ»đ€đ» and the SMUT in the second part lordtttt (18+)
how could i say goodbye? by @hawkinsquarry - The way this fic made me WEEP. I love it when people make Steve actually process any of his trauma but him being needy after the events of S4 was so ON POINT. Fuck this hurt. So good!
Beyond part 1 by @abibliophobiaa - The way I start SHAKINH AND SCREAMING AND CRUONH AND YHEOWINH UP when I start thinking about this series sjkdxkdkxkfk fake marriage AU will always have a place near and dear in my heart and with Steve??? DEAD.
Chateau, Careless whispers part 1 part 2 by @kurtie4life96 - Sugar Daddy Steve can be something so incredibly personal to #girlies (me) OBSESSED with thiskdkskfmdkdkdk the smut made the wires in my brain unwire (18+)
Burning by @lis-likes-fics - ABSOLUTELY INSANE actually. CRAZY. MIND DESTROYING. NERVES IMPLODING. KILLED ME. The plot with porn can be so personal to me FUCKING GOD. (18+)
Pray for the night by @upsidedownwithsteve - Call me a whore but I LOOOOOOVE me some âwe almost died so letâs fuck each otherâs brains out because weâre alive and we want to feel somethingâ đđ (18+)
Pride and Prejudice and Peanut Butter Sundaes by @starryeyedstories - The enemies to lovers of it all kskskskskskdks THE TWIST OF P&P WITH STEVE HARRINGTON REST ASSURE THIS IS CLOSE TO MY HEARTTTTT! This is so freaking goodkskskskskskskx
Meet me at the chateau by @theemporium - I think about this fic so much and it's been MONTHS but I will make it a pOINT to re-read it because this is just absolute perfection ugh sjkskdkskdkksdkjsdjkddk! (18+)
Puppy by @lovebugism - Sub!Steve youâll always be famous! This made me so dizzy gAWD. Can't believe this isn't my life. So unfair. Looooooooooooove this! (18+)
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Okay so I read this whole fic on AO3 and never really got a chance to just tell you how AMAZING this is!
Ahhhhhh! I love reading for Hopper R because there's so much to explore their since Hopper can be an...interesting father figure especially if you take into context what he probably would've been like before Eleven and my GOD you did a fantastic job showing that!
The Byers-Hopper family dynamic is so jskjsdkshdkjhskjdhskj and then you add secret relationship drama into that! I love how you portrayed the guilt which comes with it too because it's not all being careful and making sure your cover stays but also R constantly think how they're betraying their Dad and the complexities of all the emotions because it's STEVE and they want to be with him is so good!!!!
I don't think you posted the epilogue here but the ranges of emotions that whole thing put me through lmaooo it was WILD. Seeing Hopper's perspective in this was so crucial but also knowing why he was against this relationship in the first place! I loved your take on the Harrington family dynamic because it's BONKERS! The way Steve is still fighting for their attention and approval when he knows he shouldn't but he does because things are not so black and white and they're still his parents even when he doesn't want anything to do with them GOD. The descriptions with how things got worse over the years and how this was him all along never wanting his daughter to be anywhere near that asshole in the first place and had not much to do with Steve. JESUS. He could have gone through this a little bit better lmao and maybe not try to be such a jackass but it's okay he was redeemable and he apologized that's what matters lolol!
This is absolutely AMAZING! And AHHHHH you're so freaking talented for this!!!!!!
Rules Made To Be Broken - Steve Harrington x gn! reader
Masterlist - AO3
<< Rule Two | Epilogue >>
summary: As you and Steve grow closer, things seem to be going perfectly. That is until your police chief father steps in. The more you lie the deeper a hole you dig, but what else can you do? No matter what your dad says, you're not staying away from Steve Harrington.
wordcount: 6k
notes/tags: Hopper!reader, secret dating, sneaking around, fluff, friends to lovers, events of season three do not take place (canon divergent), Hopper is a bit of an (redeemable) overprotective helicopter parent, mentions of/talks about: abusive parents, Steve's father is his own warning, Good Brother Jonathan (tm), tumultuous relationships, divorce, death, and family trauma.
Rule Three: No Having Steve Over If Your Dad Isn't Home
Joyce corners Hopper when heâs brushing his teeth before bed. She shuts them both in the bathroom and turns to him with a stern expression. He raises his eyebrows at her in question, a toothbrush hanging from his mouth. She crosses her arms. He turns, spits out what toothpaste is left in his mouth, and rinses. As he turns back to her, he wipes the corners of his mouth with a rag.
âIs something wrong?â He asks.
âJim, I know you're not stupid so why are you being so hard on Steve?â She questions.
âSomeone oughtâa be,â he answers.
âYou don't think John is?â She scoffs.
âWhat's this about, huh?â
Joyce shakes her head a little.
âYou have to have noticed they like each other. There's something there and Steve is a good guy-â
âHeâs a Harrington.â
âJesus Christ, Jim, that doesn't matter! Steve has kept both your children safe from Upside Down monster bullshit! Youâve already been complaining that something is different with your relationship. If you keep this up, you won't have a relationship at all,â Joyce hisses.
Hopper crosses his arms. He breathes evenly as he and Joyce stare each other down. It doesn't matter how long he stands here, he knows she'll win.
âHe reminds me of me,â he admits through grit teeth.
âWhat?â Joyceâs brows furrow.
âSteve- heâŠ,â Hopper sighs and looks away, âHe reminds me of myself at that age. It's when I met Diane. Just⊠My kids deserve better than that- they deserve better than me.â
âAny of those kids would be lucky to end up with someone like you. Steve is a good one. Weâre lucky itâs him and not one of those other idiots out there,â Joyce says softly.
Hopper runs a hand down his face.
âSo, what? What are you saying? What do you want me to do?â He questions.
âLet go a little. Let them see each other.â
âYou mean let them start seeing each other.â
Joyceâs mouth presses into a thin line. She doesn't want to give up her mistake, but she doesn't want to lie. That alone says enough. Still, Hopper gives her another chance.
âJoyce, you meant to say you want me to let them start to see each other, right? Not continue to see each other,â he tries again evenly.
She takes a measured breath. Her big eyes flash down and then back up at him. They're brimming with an apology.
âIâm sorry, Jim. This is what I mean-â
âHow long?â
âI don't know.â
âHow long have you known?â
âI just found out. Neither of them wants to be sneaking around, but they don't think you've given them another choice,â she tries to explain to him.
âThank you, Joyce,â he states and turns back to the sink.
His large hands grip the edge as he glares at the faucet. Joyce watches him for a moment, teetering between annoyed and sympathetic. She loves Hopper but, Christ, is he stubborn.Â
âMaybe instead of seeing Steve and thinking of him being a Harrington, you should think about Callahan. Steveâs related to him too, remember? Will and Jonathan are related to Lonnie, but you don't think they'd ever be like him,â she points out, âItâs okay that you're scared, but you can't let it control you.â
â Thank you, Joyce ,â he says again with more emphasis.Â
With a sigh, she leaves unsure if she just made things better or worse.Â
The next time you see your dad is strange. He lumbers around you as you do the dishes, grunting in acknowledgment, with a storm cloud over his head. It's not totally unusual so you don't think much of it. You figure he's just in a mood. So, you let it be while he prepares his lunch of a sandwich. Then you accidentally drop and break a plate in the sink. That seems to light whatever short fuse your dad has today.
âWe can't get a new place to live and buy a whole new set of plates,â he drawls bitterly.
You turn annoyed furrowed brows on him.
âIt was one plate. I think weâll financially recover,â you quip.
âOh, Iâm sorry, have you balanced the checkbook recently?â He all but snaps.
You blink at the running water. Aggravation and concern are beginning to swirl together. Why does it feel like he's picking a fight?
âOkay, Iâll buy the plates. There, happy?â You bite.
â Peachy .â
âGood.â
âGood.â
A tense silence blankets the kitchen. Ceramic bits of plate clink against the metal of the sink as you collect them. Your dad angrily spreads mustard on a piece of bread.Â
âYouâre watching Will and El tonight,â he informs you.
âExcuse me? Since when?â You let out a single sarcastic laugh and turn on him.
âWhat? Do you have plans?â He shoots back pointedly, eyes sharp and analyzing.
Your heart catches in your throat. You do have plans. Plans with Steve you had yet to lie to him about. Itâs okay, those plans can change. You aren't giving up coveted Steve time, not when it's feeling so hard to come by. Steve went full-time last week. You haven't seen him outside of the mall in days. Both of you have been too tired while adjusting to your new schedules.
âNo,â you lie, âDoesn't mean I wouldn't like the option.â
His gaze hardens. There's a tug at your stomach, a warning signal that something is awry. Heâs not just in a mood, heâs fucking pissed. You just don't know why.Â
âWell, now your plans are watching Will and El,â he says cooly, going back to his half-assembled sandwich.Â
âThey don't need me to watch them,â you echo what must be a million youâs from the past.Â
âI say they do.â
âWhatever, this is fucking stupid,â you mutter to yourself as you toss the plate bits in the trash.
âThatâs it, youâre grounded,â he snaps and turns on you.
You gape at him with a scoff.
â What? For what?â You demand.
âTalking back.â
âTalking ba- Iâm fucking nineteen, dad, get a grip!â You shout.Â
âIndefinitely,â he tacks onto your sentence.
âGod, I can't wait to move out and get away from your insane ass!â You boil over furiously.Â
You stomp away before you can see the crumpled look on his face. You don't want to see it. The words just slipped out. They weren't even true, but not much is from your mouth these days. At least when it comes to your dad. Your heart seizes as you trek down the hallway to your room.
 It shatters when the door slams shut. There was a time your dad and you were close. You had weekly traditions and inside jokes to fill up the empty parts of your lives. Then you grew up. Then all the Upside Down shit started happening. With each gate, the rift between you widened. You started working and hanging out with Robin more. He started working more, carefully monitoring for the next sign of foul play. El distracted both of you from whatever uncomfortable distance sat between you. For a while.
Steve had never been a stranger. After he saved your life, the two of you became something like old friends. The kind that had once been close in school, but since grown apart. You acknowledge each otherâs existence with a nod and move on. After you saved his life, you began to talk more. Nothing crazy, just a hello or a how are you if you ran into each other. Until you found him outside the convenience store one night. You had walked over to grab snacks for you and El. Steve sat on the trunk of his car, occasionally sipping a coke.Â
âHey, stranger,â you greet with a small smile.Â
He seems a little startled but relaxes when he registers it's you. He returns your smile.
âHey, what are you doing out here?âÂ
âI could ask you the same,â you chuckle.
âMe? Oh, well, isn't it obvious,â he holds his arms out at the no one around you, âIâm hanging out with my tons of friends.â
You can feel the knit grow in your brow.
âAre you okay?â You cut right to the chase.
âYeah,â he sighs, drops his arms, and nods, âYeah, Iâm fine.â
âForgive me if I don't believe you,â you deadpan.
âIâm fine, really. Iâm just⊠reflecting,â he shrugs.Â
âOn what?â You ask and gesture to the spot beside him.
He nods and scooches over to give you enough room. You lift yourself up onto the trunk next to him. He sips his coke. You wait patiently.
âI think my only friend right now is a child,â he wrinkles his nose at the thought.
âYou finally gave up on Carol and Tommy H.?â You tease.Â
âYeah, little while ago.â
âWhoâs the child?â
âHenderson.â
You perk up at the mention of the curly-headed goofball.
âOh, Dustinâs a good one to have around. Heâll talk to you like you're stupid, though. Sadly, most of the time he does heâs right , but still,â you tell him.Â
Steve hums in agreement. He stares down at his hands for a moment. Then his eyes are on you once more. The multicolor fluorescents in the window advertising different beers streak color across his eyes. It makes them look like they're made of rainbows. Little rainbows only you can see.
âWhat about you? Friends? Enemies? Lovers ?â He smirks and nudges you at the last one.
You roll your eyes and give him a small shove. He laughs in response.Â
âIâm good friends with Robin Buckley. Sheâs in the marching band at school so you probably don't know her,â you answer.
He shakes his head to confirm he doesn't know her.
âIs that it?â he quirks his eyebrows at you.
âThe same children as you, I guess,â you laugh, âOther than that⊠yeah, pretty much. You know my dad.â
Steve nods contemplatively.
âThere's me too. Weâre friends. We kinda have to be after everything,â he reasons.
You gasp dramatically.
âDoes this mean Iâm friends with the Steve Harrington ?â You ask with a hand over your chest.
Steve laughs a beautiful full bodied laugh. It brings a smile to your face. At least you were able to make his night a little brighter.
âIt sure does,â he says.
âWell, since weâre friends and all,â you slide down off the trunk and turn to face him, âIf you ever find yourself at the mall, feel free to pop into the arcade and say hi.â
He seems to deflate a little bit. It's almost as if he's disappointed when he realizes you're leaving. He nods with a small smile.
âWill do,â he promises.
You take another moment to really examine him. He looks so small half curled in on himself, clutching an open bottle of coke, and ignoring the whip of his windbreaker.
âAre you really okay, Steve?â You ask softly.Â
âIâm better now,â he nods.
You smile, accepting that answer.
âAlright, I should grab snacks and head back to El. Take care, Harrington.â
âTake care, Hopper.â
The following day Steve did go to the mall. While there he saw the hiring sign in the window at Scoops. Fast forward a week to you going to bother Robin on your break. There Steve was behind the counter in little blue sailor shorts. It was easy to slip and fall in the Harrington charm once you were subject to it on your break every day. Sometimes Robin had to fight to remind the two of you she was there.Â
You wait for your dad to leave for his night shift. The moment the chiefâs truck is out of sight, youâre on the phone.
âWho are you calling?â Will asks when he wanders into the kitchen for a drink.
âSteve. We were supposed to see each other tonight,â you explain a little shorter than you intend.
Will offers a sympathetic smile.
âWe tried telling him we didn't need you to watch us,â he says.
âThanks for trying,â you give a small smile in return.
âHarrington,â Steve answers the phone.
âYou sound like such a douche when you answer the phone, yâknow that?â You tease.
âI don't have to take this. I could hang up,â he scoffs, pretending to be affronted.
âNo,â you whine, âThen you won't hear me inviting you over.â
âI thought your dad worked tonight?â
âHe does, but now Iâm stuck here thanks to him. You can be gone before he gets back,â you say.
âOkay, just give me like twenty minutes.â
âSee you soon, handsome.â
âSee you soon, baby.â
Your face floods red as you hang up. Will snorts. You shoot him a glare.
âWhat?â You question.
âNothing,â he defends, âyou guys are cute.â
âShut up,â you grumble, a little embarrassed as you walk by.
You plop onto the couch next to El. She instinctively leans into you. From the moment you met, El just kind of latched onto you. She would be behind your legs, at your side, and telling you first when something was wrong. You don't know what you did to earn her trust like that, but you value it.
âStevieâs coming over,â you tell her.
âDad doesn't know?â she checks.
âNo, he doesn't and we have to keep it that way,â you answer.
She nods dutifully. You know you can trust her. Sheâs had her own arguments with your dad over his protectiveness. Granted, arguments with El tend to see a lot more things flying off the walls.
âYou have been fighting more,â she comments after a moment.
âYeah,â you sigh, âI guess we have.â
âIs it about Steve?â
âNo, but dad keeps trying to make it about him. Dad doesn't⊠He doesn't know how to let go of things. Including us,â you explain sadly.Â
âAre you going to leave?â She whispers.
You choke down your uncertainty.
âWell, Iâm going to start saving for an apartment soon but that doesn't mean youâll never see me again,â you whisper back.
âDad will be very sad.â
âY-yeah, I know.â
âSo will I,â she admits.
âI know, me too.â
She hugs you tightly from the side. You do your best to do the same. Will flops down on the other side of El with a sigh. The three of you watch tv until there's a rhythmic knock on the door. You bounce up and go to the door, swinging it open with a smile. Steve stands there with a wide smile of his own, hair freshly primped just to see you. He swoops in for a kiss, earning a chorus of ew s from Will and El. The two of you chuckle as you pull apart.Â
âAre you guys cool to be alone for a bit?â You check.
Will and El make disgusted faces and pretend to gag. You roll your eyes. You take Steve by the hand and lead him to your room. The door stays cracked, in case you get called for. Once you turn around youâre wrapped in Steveâs arm. He nuzzles into you as much as humanly possible.
âSteve,â you giggle into the feeling of his breath on your neck.
âI missed you,â he grumbles into your skin.
âI missed you too,â you sigh and melt into him.
You comb your fingers through his hair, half expecting him to purr like a cat. After a moment, you manage to lead the two of you over to your bed. There you fall back on your old comforter, still attached. Steve pulls away so youâre nose to nose. The smile that brightens your face is instinctive. The one that brightens his is the same. Smiling is natural around each other.Â
âI want to take you out for real. A nice dinner, maybe dance a little,â he says, eyes sweeter than ever.
âYou dance?â You smirk.
âI was in ballroom until I was ten,â he states with a goofy smile.
âThat right? Well, now you have to show me the moves,â you decide and extract yourself from him.
He sits up after you. His eyes stay on you as you dig through your tapes. You pop one into the stereo. Something light and poppy drips from the speakers. With a bright grin, you hold your hand out to him. A light blush takes over his cheeks, but he ignores it. As requested, he gets up and takes your hand.
You descend into laughter as Steve glides and spins you around the room. His arm is snug against your lower back while his other hand clasps yours. Heâs not bad for not having had a lesson in eight years. Together you and Steve walk on air, bolstered by the high of finally being together outside of blistering fluorescent lights and fake plants.Â
The station is absolutely dead. There's one light that's been buzzing for weeks now. It irritates Hopperâs ear, gnawing at his eardrum and begging for restitution. He sighs heavily and drops his face into his hands. As he attempts to rub the tired boredom from his eyes the bell dings from the front.
âFlo, you got that?â He calls.
There's no answer, but another ding .
âFlo?â He calls again, growing short.
Another ding . He sighs and heaves himself out of his chair. Irritated grumbles fall from his mouth as he makes his way over to the front desk. Flo is gone for the night. He forgot it was that late already. Another sigh leaves his lungs.Â
âHow can I-â He pauses when he sees John Harrington smiling from the other side of the desk, âWhat can I do you for, John?â
âIâm here for Phil. Picking him up. Say, Iâm glad I ran into you, though,â John Harrington grows a smarmy grin, âWe should get the family together soon. Have dinner.â
Hopperâs mouth tightens and his nostrils flare a tad as his warning bells go off. His eyes narrow as Callahan rounds the corner from the locker room.
âOh, hey-â Callahan begins to greet.
âWhy would we do that?â Hopper questions John, ignoring Callahan completely.
Callahan stops a few feet away. He looks inquisitively between the two men.
âI figured celebration is in order since our kids are together! I gotta say, Jim, you raised a good kid. Gotta good head on-âÂ
âHow would you know that from a two-minute conversation at a crowded bar?â Hopper snaps, already knowing where this is heading.
His face grows red with anger. John attempts a confused facade, but it's thin.
âWe had dinner together a few weeks ago,â he says as if reminding Hopper.
âOh, did you?â Hopper asks with a nod.
âYes, I thought you kne-â
âCallahan,â Hopper booms as he starts back for his office, âYouâre staying in tonight. I have to leave.â
Callahan, who had already been heading back to the locker room throws back a you got it, Chief. Hopper doesn't spare John Harrington another glance as he storms out to his truck. If he had, he would have seen a sly satisfied smirk. As you and Steve twirl around in a fog of affection, your dad races home with his lights on.Â
Steve spins you out and then back into his arms. The moment you're back, his nose is brushing against yours.
âI love you,â he breathes between notes of music.
âI love you too,â you smile.
You're not sure who kisses first this time. Perhaps you meet in the middle. Either way, itâs a tender kiss that warms you from your head to your toes. Steve kisses you as if itâs the reason he was put on this planet. You let him guide you back to your bed. When the mattress hits your legs you tumble onto it. Steve lands over you, smiling full of adoration.
âMy momâs birthday is coming up. Every year there's this big dinner somewhere stuck up with a bunch of people who are even more stuck up,â he tells you.
âSounds awful,â you chuckle.
âIt is. Would you come with me? She really likes you and it might be half decent with you there,â he turns bashful.
Your smile falters.
âI want to, but my dad grounded me indefinitely,â you chew on your lip, âMaybe I can sneak out-â
âNo, no it's okay,â Steve shakes his head, âYou sneak out for me enough as it is.â
âI do it because I want to,â you remind him.
âI know, but I can tell all the lying has been messing with you. I don't want to make it any worse,â he says.Â
âI appreciate that, Steve, really. Itâs my decision, though. It isn't your fault Iâm lying or sneaking around. Itâs my dadâs,â you reply.
âThat doesn't mean I don't feel bad.â
âThatâs because youâre sweet,â you give him a quick peck on the tip of his nose, âI would love to go with you to this awful birthday dinner.â
Caramel apple eyes go molten as they bore into you. The softest of smiles graces his face and your line of sight. You can almost physically feel the love rolling off of him in waves. It throbs in your chest.
âGreat because Iâve been dying for a way to show you off,â he sighs as if relieved.
You chuckle as fire crackles across your face.
âYouâre such a dork,â you tease.
âYeah, but Iâm your dork,â he teases back.
Your mouth opens to respond, but the bedroom door slamming shut stops you. Both of you snap to look just in time to see the lock click on its own. Your attention immediately moves to the window. The world stops, then falls. Red and blue flash against the trees outside.
âSteve,â you whisper urgently, â hide .â
âWha-â he starts at normal volume.
You grab his face and point him toward the window.
âYou need to hide,â you hiss.Â
âShit,â he breathes and scrambles off of you.Â
You can hear your dadâs voice from the living room. Heâs loud and angry. Hot spikes of fear shoot through you as you try to pull together your room. His footsteps are heavy as they come down the hall. When you turn around Steve is nowhere to be seen. You have no clue where he hid. Whether that's good or bad is to be seen.Â
The banging on your door causes you to jump. You freeze for a moment until more banging jars you.
âOpen the door now,â your dad orders from the other side, jangling the knob.
With a deep breath, you do. He stares at you furiously, mouth twisted and tight, and breathing heavy. Heâs still in uniform, which makes you feel even worse.
âWhat are you doing ho-â
âIs he here?â He cuts you off.
âWho?â You play dumb.
âWho?â He lets out a sardonic chuckle, âYour boyfriend. Is. He. Here?âÂ
Your stomach lurches. It takes a lot not to grab onto something to steady yourself.Â
âNo one is here,â you answer firmly.
âLike Iâd believe you,â he scoffs and pushes past you.
Thereâs nothing you can do but watch. You watch him turn out the curtains, check the old wardrobe, then the closet, before reaching under your bed. He pulls out some lost socks, but not much else. With nowhere else to turn, he goes to Jonathanâs side. It's the last place. Your heart is pounding in your throat. Your palms are clammy.Â
He reaches under the skirt of Jonathanâs bed. After a moment of feeling, he yanks out a sandwich baggie of weed. His nostrils flare as he takes it in.
âGreat, perfect, now I have to deal with this ,â he grumbles.
âAre we done here?â You ask.
He turns on you slowly. You cross your arms over your chest.Â
âHow long?â He shoots back.
âWhat-â
âDon't play dumb with me,â he snaps, âHow long have you and Steve been together?â
Your own nostrils flare as you stare at him. Tears burn a threat into the backs of your eyes, but you don't let them spill.
âJune,â you answer quietly.Â
â June ? Itâs August,â he points out angrily.Â
âYeah, it is,â you nod.
Realization dawns on his face then more fury.
âWas it you Callahan caught in Steveâs car?â He interrogates.
The flush of your cheeks says enough, but you answer anyway.
âYes, but it was one time and nothing happened.â
Your dad runs a furious hand over his face.Â
âSo, you've been lying to my face since June, sneaking around with Steve, and breaking every rule I set. Did I miss anything?âÂ
You shake your head weakly.
âNo.â
âI don't even know who you are anymore,â he huffs.Â
That punches you right in the gut. A tear escapes its holding cell. It breaks you.
âYou didn't give me a choice! Iâm an adult, dad, whether you like it or not! You can't control me or my life! I get that you don't like Steveâs dad and I get why, but Steve isn't him. Steve couldn't be farther from him. If you just took your head out of your ass for a fucking second youâd see how happy Steve makes me and how fucking in love with him I am,â you shout, voice angry and wet.Â
Your dad spends a moment regarding you. Such a long moment your steam dies out and you have to stop yourself from crumpling to the floor. His entire demeanor goes from hot to cold. He nods a little.
âFine. From now on, do whatever you want since you're going to anyway. Don't bother lying to me about it- I don't care anymore,â he states coolly.
Then he turns on his heel and stalks out of the room, slamming the door shut behind him. You drop to your knees numbly. Steve emerges from underneath Jonathanâs bed looking manic and disheveled.Â
âTell Jonathan Iâm sorry for selling him out, but your dad was like a second away from grabbing my di- shit,â he shuffles to you and takes you in his arms, âIâm sorry.â
You didn't even realize you were crying. Fat warm tears stream down your face. You bury yourself in Steve and let the sobs shake you. I don't care anymore echoes in your head like a curse. After a while of falling apart in Steveâs arms, he slips out through the window. He parked his car a street away to be safe, thankfully. The rest of the night is spent crying under your comforter.Â
At some point, you hear Jonathan come home. He and your dad get into a shouting match of their own. Then Jonathan slams into the room and throws himself into his bed. Both of you ignore each other. There's nothing to say. It's a long, restless night. Sara plagues the short hours you do manage to sleep. As much as you miss her, you wish sheâd just stay away. You wish she would stop reminding you how much you've fucked up, how you've disappointed your dad in ways she never would have.Â
The following morning your eyes are sore from crying. Your face is a touch swollen with it. Joyce gives you a small sympathetic smile when she sees you emerge in the kitchen.Â
âGood morning,â El greets softly as she butters an Eggo.Â
âMorning,â you croak as you ruffle her hair.
The phone trills loudly as you pour yourself some coffee. Joyce answers it. After chatting for a moment she calls gently for you. You look over your shoulder to see her holding the phone out for you.
âItâs Steve,â she tells you.
You nearly spill your coffee with how quickly you put it down. With an appreciative little smile, you take the phone from her.
âHey,â you answer.
âHey,â he sounds relieved to hear your voice, âI wanted to check in after last night. Howâs it going?â
âItâs⊠alright,â you sigh, âthanks for checking.â
âIf Iâm being honest, it took me twenty minutes to sike myself up enough to risk your dad answering,â he chuckles.
âI appreciate your bravery,â you muse with a small smile.
âYou sure youâre okay, baby?â he asks gently.
Your lip starts trembling then. You thought you had it together, but hearing Steveâs voice has made you realize how much you don't.Â
âN- no, not really,â you admit quietly, knowing you have company.Â
âMy parents are gone. I can come get you if you want,â he offers.
âYes, please,â you accept, muscles easing at the thought.
âOkay, Iâll be there in ten,â he tells you, âI love you.â
âI love you too.â
Then the phone clicks off and you put it back on the hook. When you turn around only El is there. Sheâs buttering a second Eggo. You grab your coffee and sidle up next to her.
âIâm sorry about last night,â you say quietly.
âI know,â she smiles a little at you.
She slides the buttered Eggo to you.Â
âAre you okay?â you check.
âI am okay. I was worried about you,â she answers.
âIâm okay,â you assure her, âThanks for the door.â
She smiles and nods. Then she walks out to the table. You take your Eggo to go, eating it as you head back to your room. You change into fresher clothes but stay comfortable. It's the first day you and Steve have had off together in a week. After last night, you plan on staying in with him.Â
Once changed, you make your way nervously to the living room. Joyce folds laundry on the couch while your dad watches an old baseball game from his recliner. Joyce smiles at you when you enter. Your dad shows no sign he even realized you wandered into the room. It sends your stomach underground, but you try not to look at him.
âI- Iâm going to Steveâs,â you inform them timidly.Â
Joyceâs eyes dart to your dad. He has no reaction. She looks at you again with another small, sad smile.
âOkay, have fun, sweetie,â she says.
You can't help it. You look. Your dadâs eyes stay fixed on the screen. Itâs like you arenât there at all. A lump rises in your throat, threatening to push out of your mouth as a sob. Even if it's full of rage, you just want him to look at you. He doesn't. You swallow the lump and look at Joyce again, eyes watering.
âR- right, yeah,â you answer half broken.Â
With one last look at your dadâs stoic face, you go outside to wait for Steve. Youâre crying again by the time he gets to you. It takes the whole ride back just to get out one sentence coherent enough for him to understand what happened before you left. I don't care anymore , your dad told you. You didn't realize how much he meant it.Â
Steve brings you to his room. There you let yourself get lost in Steve beneath his covers. You let him hold you until your tears lull you to sleep. When you wake up an hour later you let him hold you some more. He makes sure you eat, even though you don't care much to. He also makes sure you drink water, something you forgot to do. Steve holds what's left of you together with pins, duck tape, and his two hands. Regardless, youâre still in one piece and for that you're grateful.
âHe hates me,â you whisper to Steve in the cover of darkness in his bedroom.Â
The sun is still up, but the curtains are drawn to keep it out.Â
âHe doesn't hate you,â Steve whispers, rubbing circles into your back as you lay together.
âHe won't even look at me, Steve. You heard him last night I-â your voice cracks, âFuck, I've ruined everything for everyone in the house.â
âWhoa, you haven't ruined anything , okay?â He holds you firmly so you look at him.
You shake your head.
âAre you kidding? Jonathanâs more grounded than I am. El and Will are mostly avoiding everyone so they don't get trapped in any fights. Joyce is stuck between feeling bad for me and my dad hating me. Everything has gone to shit and itâs my fault. Itâs always my fault. I shouldn't even be the one that's still here and Iâm ruining everything,â you cry.Â
The comforting shapes Steve draws in your back return. He looks caught between distraught and tired. You immediately feel bad for putting all this on him. You even try to tell him as much, but he stops you.
âI want you to talk to me. Iâm happy you're talking to me,â he promises, âbut I don't really understand why you think you shouldn't be here.â
You blink away a few tears. Emotion wells up into a swollen ball in your gut.Â
âI prayed for it to be me,â you admit, âI didn't want Sara⊠She was always better at bringing my parents together, making everything good again. Iâve never been any good at that. I just mess shit up. It should have been me, not her. Things would be so much better if it was me.â
Tears drip down Steveâs face by the time you're finished. Heâs seen you in some dark places, but this is the darkest by far. Still, heâs determined to usher some light back into you. Heâll reach even the furthest corners that haven't been touched by light in years.
âThatâs not true,â he says shakily, âI wouldn't be better.â
âSteve, that's not-â
He takes hold of your face tenderly.
âNo, you don't get to decide if people are better off without you. Iâm sorry about Sara, really I am. Itâs awful and it sucks and there's no way to make sense of it, but that doesn't mean it should have been you. I can't imagine what my life would be like without you in it. Actually, yes I can. Iâd be miserable, working for my dad, and spending every fucking minute wondering why I couldn't be brave enough to stand up for myself. Because it's you that makes me brave. Even that first time when I came back for Nancy- I didn't take a bat to that Demogorgon because of her. I did it because I saw you there. Because youâre always there when I need you to be. That's why I can't just let you say you don't deserve to be here, or that you shouldn't be. I need you here. I need you here ,â He tells you urgently and earnestly.
You both have tears streaming down your faces by the time heâs done. There aren't any words. At least, none that you have. In lieu of words, you kiss him like your life depends on it. Itâs wet and salty, but it's Steve and that's all that matters.
âYou really went after that Demogorgon because of me?â You whisper into his lips.
âWell, yeah, I knew your dad would kill me if I didn't,â he jokes lightly.
It draws a laugh from you. You squeeze into him tighter, needing your atoms to merge with his and become one.
âSounds like it's my dad that makes you brave,â you joke in return.
A laugh rumbles through Steveâs chest against your cheek.
âNo, he just scares me. You make me want to be better and do better. You make me want to be the kind of guy that deserves someone like you,â he answers softly.Â
âYou do deserve someone like me, Stevie,â you tell him.
âAnd you deserve to be here just like anyone else.â
You take a deep breath and let his words sink in. You try to internalize them deeply, ingrain them into your psyche, anything to make sure they stick.Â
âI love you so much,â you say into his chest.
âI love you so much too,â he says back into your hair.
Steve makes a decision at that moment. He doesn't know what he can say and he might just get himself killed, but he has to talk to your dad. He has to fix this. Steve is determined to make things right for you. Heâs going to take care of you like he promised.
<< Rule Two | Epilogue >>
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Holy.
Fuck.
Shit.
God.
Jesus.
OMG.
Iâm so obsessed with this whole thing this actually drove me CRAZY! Start to finish!!!
Iâm so happy that you went with this and gave it the ending you did becausjekekskdmskfkd itâs so much better this way!! Steve being too late or is he? Lol. And R being with Eddie because he makes her happy and Eddie is just being his sweet Eddie selfkskskskskdjxjcjdk! It was also so in character of Steve to go do that and tell her he loves her even though he absolutely KNOWS he shouldnât and my heart was hurting because of the similarities with the little women scene BUT I LOVE GETTING MY FEELINGS HURT WITH ANGST đ€Łđ€Łđ€Ł
This was so well done you did an amazing job!!!!!!đđđđđ
â iâm telling you all of a sudden, but it isnât new to me. i love you. â with our boy Steve Harrington please?
i wrote this after watching little women, so this is like that one laurie and amy scene but stranger things coded <3 hope you like it!! (this is 5k words btw and barely proofread đ«Ł)
The R.V. smells like coopery blood, alternate dimension muck, and nine teenagers who havenât showered in three days. But despite all that, Steve Harrington is next to you, smiling.Â
As if thereâs anything worth being happy about now.Â
He tells you about a dream with a hopeful gleam in his honey eyes, like he believes itâll all come true â like death is staring him in the face. âI know itâs silly, but I⊠I always dreamed Iâd have this really, really big family. Iâm talking like, uhâ a full brood of Harringtonâs. I donât know, five⊠Maybe six kids?â
âSix?â you repeat with an incredulous laugh. You turn your body in the passenger seat to face him more, shoulder pressing into the worn pleather. Youâve got your brows raised to your hairline in shock at his admission and a beam on your face you donât realize is there.
âUh-huh. Six little nuggets. Three girls, three boys,â he says with an assured nod. Thereâs a distant smile hinting at the edges of his lips, and he looks at you with it for a moment before turning back to the road again.Â
âAnd every summer, I figured all of us Harringtonâs, weâd pack into something like this, and⊠just see the country. You know, the Rockies, the Grand Canyon, maybe Yellowstone. Weâd end up in some beachside town in California and spend a week parked in the sand, maybe learn how to surf or something.â
You can picture the dream so effortlessly, almost like itâs one youâve had yourself.Â
In some ways, you did.
Steve Harrington was the kind of boy that filled you with butterflies and childlike daydreams. It was more innocent than lusting, more significant than a teenage crush. There was a time youâd wanted to be with him so badly that you could barely breathe. It kept you up at night, fantasizing about a future with a boy that didnât want you. It haunted your dreams just as often.
You were, perhaps a bit begrudgingly, a part of that stereotype â a girl who wanted all of the things adults thought girls wanted. You longed for a pretty white dress and a husband that cried when you walked down the aisle. You wanted a small house with a white picket fence, a home thatâs always loud with laughing children and barking dogs and loving parents.
It was a future you only wanted with Steve.
But he didnât love you. Not the way he loved Nancy.
Not the way he still loves Nancy.
Itâs not a crime he needs to confess to for you to know heâs guilty of it. You can see it written all over his face, in the way he talks about his future family and flits his gaze from the winding backroad up to the rearview mirror to look at her. Heâs picturing her in his head the way you picture him in yours.
Knowing someone else is a part of this dreamt-up family and not you is a bitter pill to swallow.
It has you looking back too, at the gang of ragtag soldiers youâre about to save the world with. You glance over your shoulder at all of them, finding them dozing or outright sleeping in the back of the R.V.Â
You donât blame them. The past few days have been hell.
Youâre just glad Max has finally found a moment of peace. The redhead lazes between Lucas and Dustin on the couch in the very back. She rests her head on the former boyâs soldier, but you canât tell if sheâs sleeping or not. Lucas has his eyes closed but a smile on his face as he lays his cheek on the crown of her head.
Dustin, on the other hand, looks dreadfully out of place among the two lovebirds. His head is tilted back and his mouth is wide open. Soft snores spill from his throat.
Erica, Robin, and Nancy all sit at the tiny table beside the tinier kitchen. Their heads are either resting on their folded arms or pressing against the window.
The small cushion adjacent to the couch is taken up wholly by Eddie.Â
Your Eddie.
His long legs are spread and his back is slouched against the side of the R.V. Heâs taking up every bit of room the thing has to offer, which wasnât very much to begin with. His pink lips are parted and slightly chapped. He blows soft exhales from them that make his chest rise and fall with even breaths.Â
Your hands begin to ache with the want to run them through his wild strands of hair, to ease his head to your chest and let the sound of your heartbeat chase away the nightmares that threaten to plague him.
You want so badly to sleep alongside him, but you know that slumber wonât come as easily to you.
Despite the exhaustion that weighs down your tired bones, whenever you close your eyes, you can only see Chrissyâs mangled body on the ceiling of Eddieâs trailer. The image of broken bones and sucked-out eye sockets is stained on the back of your mind.
Itâs something youâll never forget. Not in a billion, trillion lifetimes.
Youâre scared you wonât ever sleep peacefully again.
But youâre glad Eddieâs finally resting. Even if you canât.Â
And maybe thatâs what love is.
âŠLove.
You almost canât believe youâre calling it that. Itâs not like youâve told him as much or anything. You havenât been together very long, only a few months, but youâre not sure what else to call this feeling. Is it normal for you to want to fight the most powerful dark wizard known to man with your bare hands as long as it means keeping Eddie safe?
The realization that youâre actually moving on from Steve is perhaps more shocking. You were starting to think youâd be fawning over him for the rest of your life, destined to be alone forever while he got married and had kids. But then Eddie came out of nowhere. He swept you off your feet without even trying.
Youâd spent so much of your life in love with Steve that youâd forgotten how it felt to be loved. But Eddie reminded you, most ardently so, and youâve never been happier.
And Steve can see all that.
He can see how youâve gone to hell and back â quite literally â to keep Eddie safe. He can see how Eddie still manages to make you laugh so hard your stomach hurts, even though death looms overhead like a big, gray storm cloud. It almost makes him angry. Not at Eddie, exactly. And certainly not at you. Heâs more so mad at himself for waiting until you were out of his grip entirely to need you like air.
Steve wasnât an idiot; he knew how you felt about him. Heâs known for years. But Nancy was the only girl in his purview for⊠an embarrassingly long amount of time. Maybe thatâs because she didnât want a single damn thing to do with him at first, and it wasnât like Steve to back down from a challenge.
But you? You were easy. You were always going to be there. Your love was the only constant thing in his life.
And then it just⊠wasnât.
It was like his center of gravity had suddenly shifted or his feet had been knocked out from under him. The loss of you, of something that was never his to begin with, jarred him like heâd been awake with most vigor. Now, he finds himself living in a nightmare â forced to watch you fall in love with someone else while he ebbs slowly from your mind.
You sit with him now â with Eddie â while he and Dustin fuck around with the shields theyâd crafted out of tin garbage can lids. You watch them with a smile on your face even though youâre shaking your head at them and telling them something that Steve canât hear.Â
Youâve got a sword in your hand, and you sharpen its steel with a rock. The too expensive thing had been hanging on the wall at The War Zone, and you told Eddie you just had to have it.Â
âIâll just⊠take up extra shifts at Wayneâs shop,â you reason with a shrug, gaze never leaving the bladed weapon.
âDo whatever you want,â the brunette boy responded nonchalantly as he dropped four cases of ammunition into the red basket in your hand. He smiled down at you. âThat just means Iâll get to see you more.â
It hurts Steve for you to be so far away from him.Â
Youâre just across the small clearing. All heâd have to do is walk over to you, really, but itâs more than just the distance. No matter how close he gets to you, or how far you get from Eddie, your soulâs always going to be with him.Â
Steve will never have you like that, and thatâs what hurts the most.
He thinks heâs doing a pretty good job of keeping a stiff upper lip about it. He thinks heâs keeping some deep, dark secret, having no idea that heâs all but spilling his guts to Robin. Honestly, heâs just trying to make conversations while they make homemade bombs out of gasoline and glass bottles, but heâs more than obvious. As per usual.
âHow long do you think theyâve got?â Steve asks her out of the blue while he pours the chemicals through the funnel and into the flask Robin holds out for him. He doesnât wait for an answer.Â
âBecause I thought theyâd be over forever ago, you know? I mean⊠itâs Eddie. Sheâs, like, totally out of his league, right? But Iâm pretty sure they just had an anniversary or something because I saw him buying flowers at Bradleyâs Big Buy the other dayâŠâ
Robin opens her mouth to get a word in, but Steve just keeps on going going going.
âUnless you think they were for someone else? But letâs be serious, right? Heâs a freak, but heâd never do that to her. I donât know⊠Maybe heâs just the sorta guy that gets her flower for no reason, and it hasnât been as long as it feels.â
âWell, Iâm pretty sure theyââ
âLetâs face it, if heâs doing that for her, theyâre probably gonna make it, right?â the boy laughs bitterly to himself. He stuffs a rag into the neck of the bottle. âGod, Iâm such an idiot⊠Maybe if Iâd done those things, Iâd stillââ
âI swear to god, if you say youâd still be with Nancy, Iâm gonna punch you in the forehead,â Robin snapped suddenly. Sheâs got a foreign sternness to her tone and a glacial hardness in her blue eyes. She glares at him with it. âYou donât love Nancy, Steve. And she doesnât love you. So stop going for the easiest thing when you know itâs not what you want.â
He sighs. He knows sheâs right. âI justââ
âI get it. It sucks being lonely. Iâm pretty sure Iâm destined to spend the rest of my life alone, so join the club,â Robin smiles, a tad bit cynically, at him. âIt sucks being in love with someone you canât have. Trust me, I get it. But you need to move on.â
Steve swallows. He almost winces at the thought of that â of never having you. He shakes his head as though to get rid of the idea entirely. âI canât⊠I canât do that, Rob.â
âThen what are you gonna do, Steve?â she asks him with a mirthless, but not unkind laugh.Â
She nods her head over to you. You laugh as Eddie spins you in his arms, both of you marveling at how youâve just nailed a tree on the far edge of the clearing with the knives youâd thrown at it. Steve can hear the sound of your bubbly laughter from where he sits. Its brightness rivals that of the setting sun.Â
âLook at her. Sheâs happy. Finally. So⊠Just let her be happy,â Robin advises with a shrug. She sets the glass bottle in the box with the rest of them. âI mean, weâre about to stop a dark wizard from ending the world, you know? Some of us probably wonât make it outââ
âDonât say that,â Steve scolds.
âSome of us probably wonât make it,â she repeats, firmer this time, like itâs something he really needs to hear. âSomething could happen to Eddie. Something could happen to her. Do you really want to be the selfish asshole that ruins what could very well be everyoneâs last moments together just because youâve got a bleeding heart?â
Sheâs being harsh. He knows it deserves it. Now is virtually the worst time to tell you everything on his mind â just when youâre starting to really settle down with Eddie and about to fight some wizard in an alternate dimension.
Something could happen to her. Those words left Robinâs mouth and stabbed him in the heart like a thousand unforgiving knives. Steve canât fathom anything ever happening to you. Even with the end of the world, with all of you about to fight a war, it never crossed his mind. He canât picture his life without you in it.
He canât lose you without telling you how he feels â that he loves you, that heâs always loved you, and that heâs an oblivious idiot who learned that too late.
He canât lose you at all.
So, against his better judgment and Robinâs sound advice, Steve abandons his work with her and hikes the relatively short distance over to you.
Eddie hasnât yet let go of you. He keeps his arms tight around your waist and hugs you from behind, pressing the back of you to his chest while his chin sits along your shoulder. His chocolate eyes are stuck on the bullseye youâd carved into the bark of the tree on the far side of the clearing. The four knives youâd thrown, now stuck at the very center of the target, stare back at him.
âThis is probably a bad time to be turned on, huh?â he half-jokes, chin bobbing against your shoulder with every word.
âEddie!â you scold as you wrench yourself out of his grip.
Dustinâs face screws up from where he lounges on the grass beside the both of you. âGrossâŠâÂ
You walk away from the two boys to collect your knives from the poor oak tree. Eddie whistles lowly at you while you go â as though heâs never seen you in a pair of jeans before. You throw your middle finger over your shoulder at him in response.
Thatâs when Steve catches you, when youâre finally alone, and with a tiny white lie of needing to go back to the R.V. for more gasoline. You offer to walk with him, just like he figured you might, because none of you wants anyone to go off alone. Not with Vecna potentially watching you.
You walk alongside him through the thick wood, dodging low-hanging branches and uplifted roots. Steve notices the distant smile dancing on the corners of your lips â a beautiful stain Eddieâs left there.
âWhat are you gonna do?â he asks you suddenly. âYou know, when this is all over?â
Your brows raise at his question, mouth falling softly agape and eyes widening with a far-off look. You look stumped by the simple inquiry, like itâs something you hadnât thought of yet â of any of this being over.
âI donât knowâŠâ you murmur. âGo back to work, I guess.â
Steve laughs. âWeâre gonna save the world tonight, and youâre gonna be back in the office on Monday?â
âWho knows? Maybe Iâll take a sick day,â you joke, just to hear him laugh again.
He lifts a splintered tree limb to get it out of the way for you, then ushers you to walk ahead of him. You mutter a low and shy âthank youâ as you walk beneath it. He lets the branch fall again as he follows behind you.
âWhat about you, then?â you retort. âWhat are you gonna do after? Since going back to a nine-to-five is so unreasonable.â
âActually, I was thinking about writing an opera,â Steve quips with a straight face. âI would be the main character, of courseââ
âYouâre such an idiot,â you giggle with the shake of your head. The airy, sunshine sound makes him smile down at you. His honey-tined gaze swims with longing. You donât catch it because youâre not looking back at him.
âWhat do you want me to do, then?â
You tilt your head to catch his stare. Your eyes sparkle and your brows arch with a look both soft and stern. âHonest answer?â
âOf course.â
âI think you should go work for your dad. Try and⊠I donât know⊠make something for yourselfââ
âAlright, thatâs notâŠâ
ââBecause you canât work at Family Video forever, Steve!â
âYouâre not playing fair,â he concedes quietly, laughing under his breath and shaking his head.
He shouldnât have expected anything less â you did preface an honest answer, after all. It doesnât make him feel any less bad about it, though.
Youâd supported Steve through a lot of shit. Every mindless fight with his parents, every breakup that had him swearing he would never love again, every aspect of his douchebag phase that almost ruined your friendship. You were always soft with him, but never dishonest.
So when he told you that his dad offered him a well-paying job in Indianapolis, it didnât surprise him when you told him to take it. Despite all the other shit (his broken relationship with his father and his incessant daydreaming of settling down with Nancy, namely), you knew he wasnât happy in Hawkins.
âFuck your dad, Steve. This isnât about him,â youâd said. âYou should take it! Starting building your life in the city! And when youâre finally making more money than your stupid dad, you can rub it in everyoneâs stupid faces.â
Steve, of course, ended up turning it down.
The salary was high â too high for a boy just out of high school â but he figured no amount of money was worth a wounded pride.Â
Steve was scared that it was all a ploy, another thing his dad could hold over his head, another accomplishment that wasnât really his. And, truth be told, he was less enthusiastic about leaving Hawkins without you. He isnât quite sure where heâd be in life without you guiding him through a significant portion of it. It made it nearly impossible to picture a life that didnât have you at the very center of it.
He happily took to be Robin Buckleyâs schmuck at Scoops Ahoy (and then again at Family Video) and Dustin Hendersonâs unofficial chauffeur instead. He didnât mind being a casualty of rattrap small town as long as it meant he didnât have to stray too far from you.
But here you were now, right next to him in this lonesome forest, and still so far away.
You meet his boyishly forlorn expression with a sincere, tight-lipped smile. âYou know that Iâm right.â
âYeah, I do,â he scoffs in response. âThatâs the problem.â
âWhen we kill Vecna and save Hawkins for the⊠thousandth time⊠You should take that job. I mean, screw your dad, you deserve a life outside of all this shitââ
âSo do you,â he argues.
âIâll make it without you, Harrington. Iâll try to, anyway,â you quip, turning your gaze up to the family of birds sitting high in an oak tree and wishing you were one of them. You shrug to yourself. âIâll keep on being a secretary at the car shop⊠Maybe settle down with Eddie.â
That makes Steve stop dead in his tracks. He laughs bitterly to himself, a quiet and venom-coated scoff. âRight. Because living with his uncle in a one-bedroom trailer is such a dream.â
It makes you stop, too, and turn on your heel to face him. Youâre surprised to find him so many paces back. Steve sees a flash of hurt strike like lightning across your features, but heâs too hurt to apologize.
âI get it,â you concede with a small, cynical smile. âYou donât like him. You never have. But⊠Heâs a good guy, Steve. If you just got to know himââ
âItâs not that,â he mumbles, cutting you off before he has to suffer through a list of reasons why Eddieâs so much better than he is. The boyâs gaze falls to the forest floor. He kicks a bunch of green pine needles with the toe of his sneaker rather than meet your prying gaze.
âThen what is it?â you retort. âBecause I was just trying to help you. I didnât say to, like, hurt your feelings or whatever. I just know that you want a life in the city, with a big house and a whole bunch of kidsââ A laugh spills from your lips as you remember the dream he was telling you about. âYou want that picture-perfect life, right? Now you can have it!â
âYou donât know what I want,â he counters quietly.
âOh, please. I know you better than you know yourself, Steve Harringtonââ
âBreak up with him,â he blurts.
Your playful smile fades almost instantly. Your eyes search his face for any hint that he might be joking, but all you find is a deeply heartbroken boy. His bushy brows are scrunched together, his eyes glimmering with unshed tears, a puppy-like hurt painting each of his features.
You match his expression of grief with your own. Your face scrunches with a mixture of confusion and sorrow. âWh⊠What?â you manage to stutter after realizing youâd been holding your breath.
âI donât want you to settle down with Eddie,â Steve confesses. A secret he thought heâd take to his grave before ever telling you.
Youâre quiet. For several long moments, youâre eerily silent. Even the forest hangs on bated breath. Birds stop chirping, the wind stops blowing, leaves stop rustling. Itâs just you and him and a great big world waiting on the both of you.
A frown pulls down the very corners of your mouth. Your eyes go glassy and wide, like a heartbroken baby, and your head jerks back softly, still defensive and unsure.
âWhy?â you force through a tightening throat.
âWhy?â Steve repeats, finding it somehow within himself to laugh. He takes several short strides to stand with you again. With him closer now, you can see the sadness in his smile and the flush that blotches his cheeks. âYou know whyâŠâ
You only shake your head in response. The words are far harder to get out. âNoâŠâ
âI just⊠I know it feels like Iâm saying it all of a sudden, but itâs⊠Itâs not new to me, you know?â Steve tries his best to explain to you why heâs choosing now, of all moments, to pour his heart out to you. His eyes are as wide and hopeful as the palms he waves out in front of him. âI donât wanna go into this without you knowing how I feel about youââÂ
âSteve,â you agonize in hopes of ending his rambling. âDonât.â
ââAnd I just want you to know, in case something happens, that I love you.â
âNo,â you say with the defiant shake of your head, your chin quivering and your gaze ice-cold.
âYes,â he replies, just as stubborn.
âSteveâŠâ you choke out when the name gets hung in your throat.Â
A warm tear falls from your lashes and onto the very apple of your cheek. You wipe it away with the back of your hand and use your free one to bat Steve away when he tries to reach out for you. You stumble back from him, heading back the way you came â back to Eddie.
âDonât, Steve. Just stop it.â
âWhy?â he grieves in the softest voice he can muster, wet and warm with his hurt.
âYouâre being mean,â you scold.
âIâm being mean?â he echoes with a sad sort of laugh.
âWhen it comes to you⊠I have always been second to Nancy. Always. And I wonât be the person you settle for just because she doesnât want you, Steve,â you rant, voice fragile like glass or flower petals.Â
He wants to tell you that he doesnât want Nancy â that being with the person he loves wonât be settling â but you continue in your lament, and he misses the chance.
âI canât⊠I wonât do it, okay? Not after Iâve spent my entire life loving you,â you confess to him, face scrunched in anger. Itâs a subtle sort of rage, pointed both at him and yourself.
He watches, feeling totally helpless, while you wipe bitterly at your damp cheeks. Steveâs seen a lot of assholes make you cry. He never dreamed heâd be one of them.Â
Robin was right. Heâd ruined everything. It seems to be the only thing heâs good at these days.
âIâm sorry,â he calls to you as you walk away. âI wasnât⊠I didnât say it to make you sad.â
âYou shouldnât have said it at all!â you shout back, angrier than youâve ever been with him. You take in a stuttering breath and exhale a shakier sigh, trying to calm yourself down again. âI just donât get why you waited so longâŠâ you agonize, words wet with tears. âWhy did you wait until I was happy? Eddie⊠Eddieâs so nice to me, Steve. And you just⊠You just throw this shit at me right before we... Thatâs not fair.â
âI knowâŠâ he murmurs. âI knowâŠâ
The world starts turning again.Â
Birds sing their songs, sounding somehow sadder than before, as though in lament for the brokenhearted boy. The wind begins to whistle as it brushes through the trees. Itâs only half successful in breathing air back into your lungs.
A rustling of the brush gains both of your attentionâs. It sounds like something is slithering somewhere in the thick laurel â a rabbit, a snake, a dark wizard out to kill a bunch of sad teenagers.Â
You and Steve are alone, heartbroken, and clear targets for a monster who feeds on traumatized kids.
Though itâs entirely unlikely that Vecna has crawled out from the depths of the Upside Down and into these woods, you and Steve reach for your respective weapons anyway â him for the axe strapped to his back and you for the knives hanging on your belt. Youâre ready to protect each other despite your distant anger.
But instead of some shriveled skin creep, you find freaks of a different kind.
The pale human faces of Dustin and Eddie peek out from the brush with curious smiles. They maneuver through the thicket and try to avoid the thorns. âWhatâs going on over here, huh?â the oldest boy wonders with his signature sparkling grin.
Itâs almost scary how you so easily contort your features full of grief into a sickly sweet, artificial smile. You swipe the back of your hand over your face again to clear the tears clinging to your lashes, though it looks like youâre only wiping away sweat.
âNothing,â you answer quickly with the innocent shake of your head. âSteve was just being an idiotââ
âImagine that,â Dustin scoffs.
ââAnd saying stuff he doesnât mean.â
âThatâs not true,â Steve mutters, then clears his throat when the words come out more choked than expected.
âJust wanted to make sure you werenât out here making moves on my girl, Harrington,â Eddie lilts with a playful smile. He reaches you and wraps a heavy arm over your shoulder to tuck you into his side.Â
His sudden touches stopped surprising you a long time ago. You realized early on in your relationship that he canât go without touching you for very long.
Eddie squints teasingly at Steve. âGo get your own.â
The boy doesnât have a comeback at the ready. He isnât sure of what to say, anyway. Eddieâs jokes arenât as funny when they arenât jokesanymore. He was just sort of professing his love to you and getting his heart stomped on in the process. He should probably be used to the feeling by now, but it stings like itâs brand new.
Youâre grateful for Eddieâs appearance and the bickering that seems to follow him wherever he goes. Itâs easy to get lost in his words, let all the sarcasm run over you, and forget the bullshit that came before it.
âWe should head back before the others think we got abducted by Vecna or something,â you urge, desperate to get away from these woods and from this moment.
Dustin listens to you without question because he always listens to you. And Steve listens because he wants an escape just as much as you do. Heâd rather go back to Robin and all her âI told you soââs than keep watching Eddie hold you like he is now.
âWhat do ya say we skip this joint and have our own fun out here?â the wild-haired boy jokes, already leaning down to press a kiss to your mouth.
âEddie, donâtââ you huff, but otherwise donât fight him. Itâs only an innocent peck, a loud smack upon your lips, that makes Dustin mutter âgrossâŠâ under his breath as he walks away.Â
And if he heard it, that means Steve heard it.
You keep your eyes open all the while. You feel a bit numb, actually. A little like youâve just kissed a ghost. You feel as cold as one, as distant and not all there. Eddie holds your hand the entire walk back to the clearing, but you have a hard time feeling it.
You feel a bit like woods surrounding you. Youâre all crowded and heavy with sadness. You canât tell if your grief is your own or if youâre feeling Steveâs too, because you canât seem to take your eyes off him.
Thereâs an entire forest within you, you find, and Steveâs carved his initials into every tree.
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I'm going to fucking throw up omggg this was SO GOOD!!!!
I AM DONE. DECEASED. DEAD. GONE.
I think I have said this to you before but if I haven't I am in LOVE with our characterization of Steve because it's so freaking ACCURATE and makes me want to melt on the ground jesus! Him falling in love way too easily but still feeling a little guarded because he doesn't want to scare her away AND THEN HE'S BEING THE SWEETEST FUCKING BOYFRIEND IN THE WORLD?????? I AM GOIMG TO NEED SOMEONE TO SEDATE ME RIGHT THE FUCK NOW I CAN'T DO THISKJSDHJKDSHJFJKHDFVKJHBFHBDSCJHBASJKDHSBSJVHLJDSHBLDSA! I WAS BLUSHING SO HARD READING THIS MY GOD!
Ahhhhh!!!!!!! I loved that you decided on R saying I love you first but Stevie deciding on not telling her that and saying it to her next morning BECAUSE SHE FEELS THE SAMEEEEEEEEEE
Loved loved loveddddddd this fic! This was amazing!!!!!!!!
We Got Love:
modern!steve harrington x fem!reader
Summary: Steve picks you up from the bar after your night out with Robin and he realizes he's overwhelmingly in love. | masterlist | Title/fic inspiration song always at the bottom - steve's music | even if a fic is not marked 18+, my blog is - please respect this
WC Range: 5-10k
Warnings: reader consumes alcohol with descriptions of being tipsy / fluffy gooey hopelessly in love with each other kissing and flirting
A/N: A night out with @loveshotzz in Chicago had us thinking about Steve picking us up and bringing us to McDonald's and then a sweet anon sent a thought about Steve helping our tipsy selves and thus this fic was born. I hope you love it!đ
Steve was in too deep. He wasnât supposed to fall this hard or this quickly. Sure, heâs known for giving his heart away too easily, but he knew this was different. He knew you were different. He was going to take it slow this time - he had a whole plan.Â
Heâs never been a good planner. Â
Youâre sweet and soft, but youâre not afraid to bite back. Youâve got an energy about you, and sometimes he feels a little like youâre the sun. He canât help but be drawn to you, like youâve got a gravitational pull just for him, but if he gets too close too fast heâs gonna get burned like he always does.Â
But Jesus Christ, youâre not making it easy for him. Youâre so sweet and perfect already, but you have to be gorgeous too? Cause youâre always pretty, but tonightâŠwow. And your ass in those jeans. His hands form fists at his sides, planting his heels into the floor so he doesnât just start making out with you in front of Robin. Heâs going a little insane - like he feels like he needs to keep his hands on you at all times or heâll literally stop breathing, heâll die if he doesnât get to kiss you and -
Heâs so fucked.Â
Hair curled and bouncing across your shoulders as Robin and you dance and headbang to the early 2000s playlist she insisted would pump you up for your girls night out. His bathroom counter is littered with lipsticks and various tubes of things you hold up to him in the store for his opinion on. He just nods and asks âDo you like it?â before you drop it into the red cart with a smile and leave a kiss on his cheek.Â
A laugh that has the ability to actually crawl into his chest and burrow inside of his heart leaves you as Robin gives you shit for being high maintenance. He hides a smile from his spot leaning in the doorway as you insist that the tequila shot is going to be better with the orange, âTrust me, Robs. When have I steered you wrong?â
Robin starts to list several times youâve done just that and your face scrunches as you stick your tongue out at her. Steve watches you both lick salt from your wrists and as you make eye contact with him he clears his throat and looks down, cheeks flushing pink at the thought of your tongue like heâs thirteen again. Â
Yup, totally fucked.Â
The clink of your glasses on the counter draws his eyes up once more, your face squished in amusing pain as you suck on the orange slice, eyes fluttering open and removing it with a wide smile directed at him over Robinâs shoulder. Body wiggling and hands clapping together as the alcohol enters your body and another laugh leaves it as Robin begrudgingly admits to liking the orange. Â
A pink stain left on the rim of the glass and one on his cheek after you skip over to him, arms wrapping around his neck. Steveâs hands find their favorite spot on your hips, fingers slipping seamlessly into the belt loops and trying not to think about how your hips and ass are gonna look dancing out at the bar without him. How you naturally sway easily to the beat, and smile around the skinny neon straw between your teeth as someone tells a story. How in between turns at an arcade game or a round of pool you use the stick or someoneâs open fist to sing along to the songs playing because your walls come down a little from just a few drinks.Â
You lean back to peer at him with a smile that makes his heart stutter, sure heâll need to seek actual medical attention to get it restarted as you tap your nose to his chin. God, youâre so fucking pretty.Â
âYou gonna be okay all by yourself tonight handsome?â
Handsome.Â
He canât help but sigh a little when you call him that. Canât help the way his hand moves to push a piece of your hair behind your ear like heâs a leading man in a rom com youâve made him watch.Â
He wants to tell you the truth. That no, as a matter of fact, he will not be okay alone and he needs you to stay. And it freaks him out a little bit that he wants you to stay forever and itâs not even for sex. He wants to debate about the best candy to have with popcorn, for you to shove your cold hands under his shirt and press your nose into his neck. To banter about what to watch only for you to fall asleep five minutes into it. Words on the tip of his tongue that he doesnât want you to leave ever. Because youâre going to go out tonight and go back to your place and he feels crazy because he wants you to just move in and thatâs not in the plan. Thatâs not taking it slow at all, Harrington.Â
Raising your eyebrows at him, waiting for his response, his hands now push your hair from your shoulders gently. Swallowing harshly as his fingertips graze over the straps of your black tank top hiding under a jacket, trailing up your neck and back down relishing a little in the goosebumps that rise in their wake. A non committal hum leaves his pursed lips before he sighs, âYou know, I really don't know. I think you should stay, just to be safe.âÂ
Itâs not the words that cause the feeling of a box of bouncy balls being dropped in your stomach, but the way Steve says them with that look. Tone and eyes warm like honey dripping over every inch of you, sealing your body in a sweet and sticky heaviness. Convinced youâd melt into an actual pile of goo if he let go of you, ready to shout how youâre feeling from every open window at every tallest peak in the world. Tequila and citrus mingle with the words that dance on your tongue, making it all a little harder to keep inside. Youâre far too tempted to tell Robin that thereâs a change of plans and youâll have to stay curled up next to your boyfriend for the rest of your life.Â
You donât say those things though, but you pretend to play along with his game - to see how much of his heart heâs willing to give away before you give all of yours to him.Â
âWell, safety is my middle nameâŠâ
Steveâs smile widens, lopsided and rising on the right and you want to reach out and trace over his lips and memorize the smile youâre able to pull out of him - just for you. Body filling with heat at the thought as his hands squeeze at your shoulders.Â
Thumbs brushing across your neck as he takes the smallest step to fully close the distance between your bodies, âRight, so really, itâs your duty to-â
âOh god, I need another shot!â Robin smacks her head against the counter several times, âPlease, for my sake, would you just kiss and say goodbye so we can go already?â
Stepping onto your toes, your nose brushes Steveâs and he sighs as your lips hover over his, âDonât have too much fun without me, okay?â
A clink of Robinâs shot glass hitting the counter makes your lips twitch.Â
âFun? Without you? Just misery with no company here.â Steve huffs and taps the tip of your shoes with his socked foot. Pouting his lips out dramatically in one last feeble attempt to get you to stay. You catch his bottom lip with yours, pressing a soft and over too quick kiss there.Â
Robin bangs her head on the counter again as his fingers slip into your hair, cradling the back of your head. His tongue pokes out to lick across his top lip, citrus and salt lingering on it.Â
Warm eyes dancing between yours as he whispers a plea, âOne more?â
Desperate for a pillow to scream into, to kick your legs and giggle like the lovesick fool that you are, you just bite back a grin as he tilts your head further. Lips molding around yours, soft and lazy and making you feel like youâre the only two people in the world. Noses squished together, thumbs buzzing across your cheeks, Steve sighs into you and your foot practically pops like youâre in a black and white movie and the end credits song is going to start playing.Â
The tap of Robinâs foot in impatience and a loud clearing of her throat makes the smile you were biting back win as you pull away reluctantly. Unable to help yourself, one more quick peck to his top lip before you untangle your heart and hands from his.Â
Tugging Robin towards the door, you glance over your shoulder to find Steve with his hands running through his hair, eyes blinking open as you smile widely. A sing song lilt to your voice as you call back through the closing door, âHave fun with your misery!â
Robinâs voice echoes down the hallway, âYouâre both disgusting!â
Your voice louder and exasperated, âYou told me to kiss him goodbye!â
Steveâs forehead hits the now closed door as he groans, palms dragging over the wood before they form fists. He already misses you. Heâs a chump. Heâs in love. Heâs pretty sure youâre the one.Â
So, so, so fucked.Â
He tries not to wallow, cause that would be pathetic.Â
Heâs pathetic.
Alone in his apartment trying not to think of you, except youâre everywhere. He cleans up your pregame shenanigans, despite you insisting youâd do it earlier before leaving - he was happy to do it so you could have more time with Robin. Thereâs a blanket you bought for his couch, your favorite coffee mug fresh out of the dishwasher and hung on a hook. The scent of your perfume and body wash in his bathroom and a toothbrush next to his. Clothes returned to half of a drawer that was basically just entirely yours now.Â
Eventually, heâs tired of his own co-dependent self pitying and crawls into bed, curling into the pillow that now smells like you. Thoughts of you lull him into a restless sleep. Tossing and turning and desperate to reach out and feel your body clinging to his, legs tangled together and cheek pressed to his chest.Â
Steve would be lying if he said he didnât love the fact he woke up at almost 2am to his phone ringing loudly, your face filling the screen. A picture heâd recently caught of you, holding a giant burrito in your hands and staring lovingly at it like it was your child.Â
Just the sight of it makes his chest ache and he takes maybe a second longer to answer since heâs caught up in staring at it. Clearing his throat before he answers, âHello?â
âOh, fuck, you soundâŠIâŠâ your voice wobbles and a barely audible sigh falls into the speaker, not expecting the heavy sound of his voice. Not prepared for the deep gruff from his chest and sleep coated word to make your thighs push together like they do.Â
He sits up straighter and flicks on his lamp, âHey, everything okay?â
âYe-yeah,â you hiccup and giggle and then continue, âYes. You just sound so sexy, Iâm - well he does!â Youâre shouting to Robin who he hears grumbling in the background and his bottom lip pulls in, tugged between his teeth as he fights a smile.Â
âCalled just to tell me that, huh?â Purposely whispering so his voice sounds a little raspier, practically able to see you melting on the other side of the phone.Â
âFuckâŠno?â His smile breaks through at the sound of your sentence ending in a question before you keep going, âIâŠI called becauseâŠ.oh! Uber! Thereâs like no Uberâs around and well okay there was one but weâd have to share it with these guys andâŠâ
Steve is already pulling on sweats and the black sweatshirt you were always stealing. Pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose as he slips on the first pair of shoes he can find. Locking the front door and spinning his keys on a finger as you continue on. Somehow your story turns from Uber to Robin having a rum and coke come out of her nose because of a joke you told and how you totally crushed her at ski-ball.
He could listen to you talk about nothing and everything, just enjoying the sound of your voice and the way you light up when you tell a story. It canât be crazy to be so in love with you already. You have to feel this way too, right?Â
âAnyways, Iâm talking a lot and Robin is tapping her wrist.â You laugh and a snort comes out and somehow he falls even harder. âLike sheâs ever worn a watch and been on time in her life - oh really? Name one time! Uh-huh, thatâs what I thought, Buckley!â
âBabe,â Steve interrupts, rubbing his jaw to fight the aching smile heâs had on his face for the past few minutes. Itâs a new name still, sticky in his throat and makes his heart speed up a little at the risk of saying it every time, but he loves the way you react.
âYeah?â A little breathless, he can hear you smile through the phone. Easily able to picture the piece of hair twirling around your finger as you quietly tack on, âI like when you call me babe, Stevie.â
He breathes deeply through his nose, forehead pressing to the steering wheel. It feels like heâs drawing each word out of his brain painfully slowly because all that wants to come out is âI love youâ and he needs to say, âIâm in the car, where are you?â
âOh! Iâll drop a pin! Thanks Steve I lo-â your voice cracks as it falls off before you quickly shout, âSee you soon!â and then silence.Â
The entire drive to you is unbearably long and filled with Steve telling himself you werenât about to say what he thinks you were.Â
Not that it would be a bad thing if you had said it, but he wants to be first. And he knows he feels that way about you, he just thought it was all too soon. Saying those three little words out loud has burned him before, but for some reason he knows itâs nothing like the pain heâll feel if he says them to you and you donât say them back.Â
As snowflakes hit his windshield and disappear just as quickly, he comes to a stop at a red light, the barcade just on the other side of the intersection and he smiles. Youâre out on the sidewalk with Robin who appears like sheâs trying not to look amused as you cabbage patch and disco to a song that must be playing. Stopping suddenly, he can tell you shout that itâs snowing and Robin must say something sarcastic back because you wave her off and start to spin a little. Head thrown back with a wide smile, tongue sticking out to catch a snowflake. He pulls up to the curb and hops out of the car.Â
Your head falls forward and his name leaves your lips behind the widening smile, the âEâ at the end trailing off and wrapping around his heart.Â
Steveâs hair is a mess, carmel and honey, lazily askew and you ache to card your fingers through it. Can you do that yet? Is jumping into his arms and running your hands through his hair after only a few hours away from each other too needy? Your buzzed brain and body are toeing the line of not really caring if it is. Especially with his glasses falling down the slope of his nose, hands in his sweatshirt pocket and a smile on his lips. Gray sweats sitting low on his hips and you bite back a smile at the loafers he probably quickly grabbed. Lit up in oranges and yellows from the streetlight and neon green of the bar sign flashing overhead. You could jump his bones right there against the car.Â
Falling into his arms with a low and content sigh, your fingers lock around his neck and toy with the ends of his hair in a sort of compromise with yourself. Nose pressing into his jaw, inhaling the familiar scent youâd missed in just a few short hours. Woodsy, maybe a little leather, and Steve and you could dare to call it home already. Swallowing the thought down, you whine a little and reveal a different thought, âFuck, you are so handsome.â
Steveâs breath catches like you havenât called him that before, taking in the way you blink and flutter your eyelashes, wet from snowflakes melting on your skin. Arms wrapping around your waist to keep you up right - or at least thatâs his excuse.Â
âIâm sure you say that to all the guys,â his voice still scratchy with sleep. He clears his throat, thumb rubbing against your skin just under the hem of your shirt. Heâs lost in the feeling of you relaxing into his hold completely, like there isnât any other place youâd rather be. Realizing that he can be a little needy with you, because you are with him.Â
The warm pads of his fingers on the exposed skin of your sides threaten to draw all of your attention. Forgetting what you said, what he said, or why you were even there. All information gone from your brain other than the fact that his lips are right there and looking far too kissable.Â
Pulling slightly away so you can stare into his eyes, you grin, touching your nose to his quickly, âOnly you, Goose.â
Steve risks sliding his hands up your sides more, your shirt rising ever so slightly and his fingers buzzing over your skin. You love the way his lips quirk up at the nickname and he loves the shiver that runs through you and the way your breath hits his cheek sharply as he touches his forehead to yours and whispers, âFlattery will get you everywhere, Maverick.â
Rising onto the tips of your chucks, fingers finally pushing up and finding a home in Steveâs hair and you sigh. The neon lights could dim, a pop song could start playing and script scrawling across the screen announcing they lived happily ever after could all happen and you wouldnât even be remotely surprised. It all feels a little like a dream, this thing with you and Steve, and you really hope you donât ever wake up from it.Â
Mouth hovering over his, the mint of toothpaste on his breath begging to mix with the alcohol on yours, but leave it to your mutual best friend to ruin the moment yet again.Â
âGet a room!â Robinâs hands tap the side of the back car door, her plea echoing down the quickly emptying sidewalk.Â
Steve turns to glare at her, her body half out the window and a wide grin on her face. The two old friends in a staring contest and silent conversation when your stomach growls and a giggle slips out of your lips. Tugging on Steveâs shirt as you request, âHey, can we get chicken nuggets?â
Robin snaps her fingers and points to you, âYes! Now thatâs more like it! Oh! And fries!â
âAnd a shake!â You jump up and down and Steve rolls his eyes at both of you, his hands still on your hips giving a light squeeze though.Â
He fights his amusement at your tipsy state and sighs dramatically, âAny more requests?â
âNope!â spinning past him, he opens the car door and helps you in as Robin grumbles about her not receiving any help to get into her seat.Â
Steve begins to stand and your fingers tug him down by the collar, âWait! I thought of one more thing I want.â
Snow turning to rain on the back of his neck as you lean in closer and he whispers, âYeah? Whatâll it be, honey?â
âA kiss,â smiling as your lips hover over his.Â
Steveâs cheeks turn pink and youâre so totally and completely in love with him it physically hurts when he whispers, âAs you wish,â and presses his lips to yours.Â
Itâs not a sweet and quick kiss like he intended, youâre a little greedy with it. Fingers clutching his sweatshirt, mouth parting over his and he canât help but hold your cheeks and pull you in deeper.Â
âIâm seriously going to puke in your car Steven, and itâs not from the alcoholic beverages Iâve consumed tonight.â
Robinâs annoyed tone sends a giggle ripping through you, breaking the kiss and your hands release him and Steve takes a moment to take you in longer. Lips a little redder and glossier, eyes shimmering under fluttering eyelashes and his thumbs brush over your cheeks and he sighs, âYouâre trouble, you know that?â
A grin and a kiss to his palm as your eyes look up at him innocently but your mouth forms a smirk tells him you definitely know.Â
He releases you reluctantly and closes the door carefully before jogging around the front of the car. Absolutely worth the flick to his ear he receives from Robin as he brings your hand up to his lips, pressing a kiss to your knuckles before letting his hand rest on your thigh.Â
The drive to McDonaldâs is not long, just down a few blocks, but it feels like years to your tipsy state. Steveâs fingers brush your thigh back and forth, setting your skin on fire despite the layer of fabric between them. Aimlessly playing with his fingers, brushing over his wrist before a song on the radio catches your attention.Â
Steve watches as you light up, turning the dial and proceed to belt out almost every lyric wrong, but somehow manage to try to sing along to the guitar and the drums at the same time. You end up leaning across the console, fingers playing with his hair, his ear, his jaw and it takes every ounce of his willpower to keep his eyes on the road.Â
âKeep your hands to yourself until Iâm out of the car please, Iâm begging you,â Robin moans from her totally horizontal position in the backseat, eyes glaring at you.Â
Your frown is amusing, like a kid told they canât have their cookie until after they eat their vegetables and you pout. Your fingers trail back to Steveâs on your thigh as he orders for you all at the drive thru. Perking up as you tug on his sleeve. âStevie, donât forget-â
âOh, can I get extra sweet and sour please?â
Your smile is brighter than the neon light from the yellow arches illuminating the car and he knows he really is a goner after you do a little dance in the seat as the fries and nuggets hit your lips. Peeking up at him as you sip your shake, wiping your lips before asking, âWhat?â
He shakes his head. âNothing, youâre just really cute.â
You duck your head down and hide your smile in your last nugget as Robin sighs around her fries. She leans forward as Steve pulls up to the curb outside of her place and wraps her arms around you from behind and squeezes, âDonât do anything I wouldnât do.âÂ
You start to turn, âWhat are you talking about, Iâm staying the-â
Robin kisses your temple and starts to get out, âNo youâre not. Have a good night lovebirds!â She calls loudly, saluting with fries in her hand before entering her apartment building.Â
Snow thatâs turned to rain fully and hitting the roof of the car mingles with the music playing softly and you smile at him. Voice suddenly shy and quiet as you ask, âYour place?â
Steve can't get you home fast enough. Youâre all cherries and chocolate ice cream and salt - stolen kisses at every stop sign. Giggling as he tells you that you gotta stop or heâs gonna get a ticket, placating you with more fries and asking about your night.Â
Heâs driving himself a little crazy as he finally pulls to a stop in front of his place, fingers gathering yours and pulling you out of the car and up the front steps. Steve wants to let your hands wander, to keep that smile on your face, but he can see the food turned your tipsiness to sleep and it tugs on you, making your limbs heavier and your eyelids flutter more. He knows that as soon as your head hits the pillow, youâre going to be out. The responsible thing to do is to get you to bed.Â
As the door closes, you lean in to kiss Steve like youâve been wanting to all night. Desperate to disappear into each other without the impatient and annoyed eyes of Robin next to you any longer. Fingers tugging at the strings of his hoodie, pulling Steveâs body against yours. Your lips attach to his with no intent of ever letting them go.Â
âMissed you,â a breathless pant against his lips as you continue your assault on them, hands sliding into his hair and scratching at his scalp. Smiling around his lips as he groans at the feeling, his hands landing on either side of your head to catch himself.Â
Pulling away despite your whine of protest, he kisses your neck, nibbling a little before pressing more kisses into your skin. Your back arches and he sighs, this is definitely going to be harder than he anticipated. Words lost in your skin between kisses up and down your neck, âMissed you too.â
Steve canât believe the words heâs about to say, especially when youâre looking at him like that. Kiss swollen lip tucked between your teeth, skin flushed - glitter and sweat kissed, curls of your hair falling loose and framing eyes that seem to be reading his thoughts and hungry with an equal amount of want.Â
Steveâs eyes warm, cinnamon and moss melting and climbing over you and you want to let him take every inch, want to tell him itâs all his. The pad of his thumb brushes over your bottom lip as he swallows harshly. He pulls at it, letting it pop out in a pout that he kisses slower and sweeter than before. Steve sighs into your lips as you part further for him, fingers trailing down to his jaw to hold him closer to you.Â
His forehead pressed to yours, his words are a breath against your lips, âCome on, time for bed, trouble.â
Is it the alcohol or is it Steveâs lips and words that make everything feel a little off kilter? He makes you dizzy, and giddy and heâs the one whoâs trouble because you werenât supposed to fall this hard for a boy like him. He canât possibly want a girl like you.Â
As your eyes flutter open, heâs pulling at your hands, thumb brushing over your knuckles and leading you down the hallway. Not stopping at the bedroom, but continuing on to the bathroom. Steve hands you your toothbrush, kissing your temple with the promise of a change of clothes. Leaving you to stare at your reflection and wonder why Steve saying âtime for bedâ and actually meaning to go to sleep has your stomach alive with more butterflies than before.Â
Steve cares about you. Heâs not trying to sleep with you, he doesnât care that you woke him up or made him get you McDonaldâs at two in the morning. He let you leave and he cleaned up yours and Robinâs mess. Steve cares about you.Â
He returns, setting you on the lip of the tub as he rummages in the medicine cabinet.Â
âAha! Found em,â he mumbles, pulling makeup remover wipes down and crouching in front of you.Â
Instead of handing you one, Steve gently wipes at your skin whispering something about how you really didnât need all of this stuff, you know that right? Every word and every pass of his thumb with the cloth over your skin knocks a stone loose in your resolve. A paper thin wall between your heart and his now. It aches, your heart pounds loudly in your chest, filling your ears. Palms sweating, fingertips itching, breath catching like youâre about to take a jump off of a cliff.Â
Mouth dry as the words that yearn to come out sit ready on your tongue. Instead, your fingers catch his chin and you kiss him. Chaste and quick, eyebrows raised at him, âWhy are you so sweet to me? What dâya like me or something Steve?âÂ
Steve tosses the wipe covered in makeup, kissing your wrist before tugging at the same hand and pulling you up to stand. Heart hammering, denting and breaking the armor he keeps around it. He could say it. He wants to say it.Â
But he doesnât.Â
He lifts your arms and you giggle as he pulls your shirt from you and slips one of his own over your head instead. Kissing each of your cheeks as your jeans drop to the floor and he helps you step out of them. He sighs, catching your jaw like you had just caught his. âYeah, something like that.â
Rising onto your toes, hands on each side of his face, you whisper through a smile, âHow embarrassing. You like me? Do you like really like me like me or-â
Steve presses his lips to yours, arms wrapping around your waist and you sigh, hands falling to rest flat against his chest. His lips move over yours languidly. Lazy and sweet kissing that has you melting into his body. He knows he needs to stop kissing you, that you should go to bed. But he canât stop, like your lips have a love potion in them and heâs under your spell.Â
Steve lifts you, carrying you to the bedroom and your kissing becomes a little sloppy, your smile forcing you to break apart for a breath. He lays you on the bed, arms on either side of your head as he hovers over you. You giggle into his lips as he pesters you with quick kisses over your face, âWhatâs,â kiss, âSo,â kiss, âFunny?â
He nibbles on your bottom lip and pulls away and youâre eager to chase his lips, hands looping around his neck. Laughing into his smile and kiss as you sing, âYou like me so much. You want to kiss me, you want to date me, you want to -â
Steve kisses your teasing away again, this time a little more passionately - like heâs trying to say all of the words he wants to with just a kiss. Stealing your breath from you, but then again he canât really steal something youâre willing to give.Â
He pulls away, cradling your jaw and relishing in the dazed look on your face. He whispers into your lips as he kisses you again, âIâm gonna go get you some water, Gracie Lou.â
Smiling to himself down the hall as you finally find your voice and shout, âI knew you liked that movie!â
Steve canât be gone for more than a minute, but when he returns, your chest rises and falls evenly, puffs of breath leaving your slightly parted lips and your face relaxed. Water to your side of the bed, he lifts the covers and slips you under them, flicking off the lamp and sliding in next to you.Â
Half asleep, you roll immediately. Leg slipping and tangling between his, hand on his stomach and cheek pressed to his chest. Steve lets his fingers glide over your spine, gently rubbing back and forth until his own eyes start to flutter closed. Heâs going to tell you in the morning. Heâll make breakfast and coffee and heâll finally tell you-
âI love you.â
Itâs a breath against his skin, the words making goosebumps rise on it and his stomach flip. He feels you shift, your breathing heavy and your eyes still closed as far as he can tell.Â
âWhat?â he whispers to you and you donât respond. Raising his head to peek at you, making sure you really are asleep, daring to ask again, âY/N, baby,â he licks his lips, fingers sweating, âWhat did you just say?â
Nothing but a soft snore comes from you and Steve smiles so wide his cheeks hurt. He pulls you closer, practically on top of him and kisses your temple.Â
You love him. Arms wrapping around you tightly, he decides heâll never tell you that you said it because he was going to be first.Â
Steve Harrington is in love with you too.Â
Thank you for reading! Please let me know what you thought, and I hope you consider reblogging my work to get it circulated to new readers - thanks for being here đ
Steve Tag List: @boomhauer @loveshotzz @myobmaya @sweetsweetjellybean @pastel-pillows @littlesubbyflower @aftermidnightwriting
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This is my new favourite thing nowndkskdmzkfkskcksmdkskfkskfdk THE CHOKEHOLD THIS WHOLE AU AND SPIDERMAN STEVE HAVE ON ME GAWDDDD JSKFKDKDKXKCMDKF!
Iâm absolutely loving the buildup from him slowly letting her in because heâs not used to it and heâs scared and heâs just going through a lot of range of emotions lmao but he simply wants no one to get hurt because of him and ahhhhskdkskfkzkdkxkdn THATâS STEVE ALRIGHT! Nothing changing for them EVEN after Steve told R he wanted to stay friends just shows how PURE this relationship is no matter what it is and Iâm just so softđ„čđ„č
Sheâs slowly figuring it out that heâs Spiderman and skdkkskxkxkdjckzkfkdodkf CANâT WAIT!!!!!! This is amazing!
single thread (pt. 2)
part 1, part 2, part 3
pairing: spider-man!steve harrington x fem!reader
summary: after the kiss, that string between you and steve seems to get thinner, shorter. you find out some things about him, too.
word count: 7.6k
warnings: spiderman!steve au, a little angst, fluff, injuries (most likely some inaccurate descriptions of them), idiots!!!!
a/n: part two is hereeee!!! thank u guys for all the love on the first one, i hope u guys continue to enjoy this one :,)
/á (àčâžàč)á\
If itâs even possible, Steve thinks about you more after the kiss.
Kisses donât usually feel like that. At least, he doesnât think they do because he canât remember what any other kiss felt like. You were enough to erase any that happened before you came along.
It was the best kiss heâs ever had and he never shouldâve done it. Being friends with you was one thing, but letting his feelings get involved⊠thereâs no turning back from that.
Heâs sure that if he said any of this to Robin she'd call him a dingus and tell him to ask you out, but he canât do it. He canât.
You wouldnât know what youâd be getting yourself into. That is, if youâd even want him at all. The injuries he comes home withâmore so than what youâve patched up yourselfâthe things heâs had to do, all of it.
Youâre too soft, too good, for him to weigh you down with it.
He likes you so much, he knows he does. He likes you so much that he doesnât want to do anything that could end up with you getting hurt or being unhappy. If that means only being your friend, heâll do it.
He meant it when he said he never hated you, that much is obvious. And he meant it when he kissed you, the way he felt. He felt brave then, he makes himself brave everytime he puts on his suit, but heâs afraid of this. Of being with you fully, letting you know the truth.
It's been days, maybe a week, since he kissed you and neither of you have brought it up. Steveâs been trying to figure out what to say, how to tell you heâs not sorry for kissing you but he canât do it again.
Today, heâs decided heâs gonna try. He taps his knuckles against your door, all too familiar of an action by now.
âJust a second!â You call. Even just hearing your voice, Steve knows itâll be hard to have this conversation and sound like he means it.
You open the door, hair pulled away from your face, âhi, Steve.â
âHey.â
Youâre opening the door wider and stepping aside to let him in before he even asks.
Steveâs eyes are as soft as ever, his smile shy, almost nervous. Looking at him, you still can't believe he kissed you, that he opened up with just a few words.
Never hated you.
âEverything okay?â You ask him. Itâs early in the afternoon, and if Steveâs knocking on your door, itâs usually late. You wonder why itâs different this time.
âYeah. Yep. I just wanted to talk to you.â
âOkay,â nerves bubble in your stomach.
âI kissed you,â the words come out in a rush, like he had to force them out, to bring it up.
âYou did.â
âIâm sorry that I havenât said anything about it. I just, um, needed to think about what to say.â
He sounds more serious than he has with you in a while. Since you started bringing him meals and he started to let you in. You twist your hands in front of you.
âI never said anything, either.â
He shakes his head. âIâm really glad to know you, okay? I just think, maybe, being friends works for us, right? And I donât want to mess that up, soâŠâ
âSo we donât kiss again.â You hope your voice doesnât show your disappointment.
You like Steve an embarrassing amount, and when he kissed you, your heart expanded in your chest. A balloon filling up with air until, inevitably, itâd pop. Now, heâs letting you down easy and heâs being so gentle about it that it makes you wanna cry even more.
Damn him for being such a good guy.
âIs that okay?â
âSteve, weâre friends. Donât worry about it. Weâre good, promise.â
You mean it. Itâs okay, he canât help the way he feels and even if itâs not what youâd been hoping for, itâs not his fault you got your hopes up. Youâd rather be his friend than be nothing at all.
You can squish your crush down, tuck it away and pretend like it doesnât exist. You can do it because you were doing it before. Itâs fine. It has to be.
Steve feels relief wash over him, though it mingles with some sort of worry that even in doing what he thinks is better, heâs still managing to hurt you. Either way, heâs said the words and his decisionâs been made.
He can tell youâre biting at the inside of your cheek, a habit of yours heâs noticed. He knows you do it when youâre nervous or upset and his jaw tenses. He steps over to you and hugs you.
Steve rarely hugs you. There was that time when you cooked for him, and that was it. The rarity of the action tells you he means it, it matters. Heâs so gentle when he does this time, his arms folding around your shoulders and his chin perching itself on top of your head.
You fall into his hold easily. You think you always will. Your arms go around his waist, cheek pressed against his shirtâs collar. You donât think youâve ever hugged a friend like this before.
So softly, quietly. Both of you breathing each other in and hoping the other doesnât notice, wondering whoâs gonna break away first.
Steve tilts his chin to press a kiss against your hair, his lips still against you when he mumbles, âthank you for understanding, honey.â
The pet name reassures you. Nothing has to be different, and you can be okay with that.
âThanks for being honest. And Iâm really glad to know you, too, by the way.â
Reluctantly, you pull back first, looking down at your feet as you do, too scared that your feelings are written all over your face.
âIâll see you, yeah?â He still sounds nervous, cautious.
âWe do live across the hall from each other, soâŠâ
He huffs, itâs a barely-there laugh, but youâll take it.
âBye, honey.â
âBye, Steve.â
When he leaves and shuts the door behind him, you fall onto your couch, head in your hands and mumbling about how stupid you are, how hopeless.
Steveâs senses can pick up the sound of your voice, the sound of your footsteps, he can pick out some words. Like âdummyâ and âidiot.â
He mouths the words âIâm sorryâ at your door.
He thinks, If whatever he encounters while patrolling tonight doesnât, Robinâs gonna fucking kill him.
-
Things were awkward for a bit after that. Not enough to make you want to avoid him, though. Heâs not someone you can let go of like that. Heâs under your skin and he has no idea.
Youâre standing outside his door with the dinner youâve made him once again. You thought that maybe this would help make things feel normal again. Routine and friendly.
He opens the door quickly after you knock, shaking his head with a smile at the dish in your hands. âI told you, you donât have to cook for me.â
âI told you I like doing it,â you hand him his food, and despite his protesting, he takes it easily.
Steve was relieved to hear you knocking at his door, relieved to see you with those same strands of hair falling around your face, the same shy smile you wear every time you deliver food.
âDo you wanna stay?â He asks.
âI have to go close at work.â
Steve nods. He knows where heâll be patrolling tonight, at least.
âOkay. Thanks again.â
âItâs no big deal.â
Maybe not to you, but it is to him. Steve doesnât want you wasting money or energy on him, but he canât lie and say that it doesnât feel nice to have someone care about him the way you do. To have someone actually want to take care of him, even in small ways.
He has Robin, of course he does, but it isnât the same. Heâs not sure his feelings for any person have ever been like his feelings for you.
He wants to do something for you for once, and when you go to turn around and leave, he stops you, âhey.â
âYeah?â
âWould you let me cook for you sometime? Let me do it for you for once?â
You feel warm, your heart growing in your chest. âIâd like that.â
âTomorrow work for you?â
âTomorrowâs great.â
âOkay,â Steve has no idea what heâll make, and heâll definitely have to go grocery shopping, probablyâreluctantlyâcall Robin for advice. That doesnât stop him from feeling a buzz in his chest âcause heâll get to see you. For longer than a couple of minutes this time.
This time, when you turn around, Steve lets you.
Your shift that night is slow and uneventful. Thankfully, so is your walk home. Even after weeks, youâre checking over your shoulder every so often, glancing up at the buildings in search of a superhero youâve met once. One who probably meets people like you every day, who probably doesnât even remember you.
Tomorrow comes quickly, and suddenly, youâre worrying about what to wear. Then, after making a mess of your closet, youâre standing in the hallway knocking on Steveâs door all over again.
For once, he didnât hear you coming, too focused on making sure everything looked right, that he didnât seem as nervous as he is. When you knock, he hides the cookbook heâd bought that morning in a cupboard before letting you in.
Thereâs a strand of hair falling over his forehead. Thatâs what you notice when you first see him. You stop yourself from reaching up and pushing it back.
âHey, come in,â he moves aside and shuts the door behind you when you walk in.
âSmells good.â
âDonât lie to me.â
âIâm not!â You arenât lying, but you would if you had to. If his cooking was awful, youâd probably have two servings to make him feel good about it.
Heâs set up plates at the stools by his island in his kitchen. When he notices you looking there he speaks up, âsorry. I donât have an actual table.â
You shake your head, âdonât be. Neither do I. You know, âcause we live in the same apartments.â
âRight, yeah.â
He gestures for you to sit down, and you do. He brings the food over, putting some on both of your plates before sitting down beside you. His knee brushes yours.
He waits for you to take a bite first, searching your face for a reaction.
âSteve, this is really good.â
He makes a mental reminder to thank Robin for the cookbook recommendation later. Right now, he focuses on the brush of his leg against yours, on the way you laugh softly at his jokes, the way your cardigan falls off your shoulder.
Steveâs eyes are on you so much that you swear you can feel it. You donât even think he realizes that heâs staring, that heâs leaving a blazing trail wherever his eyes go.
When you look at him, you find his gaze easily, eyes meeting, saying things you couldnât say out loud. You can't help but feel like this is more than just two friends hanging out. If it was, you probably wouldâve gotten take out, and you probably wouldnât be fighting hard to keep your eyes off of his lips. Especially when he talks.
Not a date, you remind yourself. Just friends.
Steveâs an idiot for thinking he can keep himself at a certain distance from you. Heâs an idiot for ignoring his feelings and thinking that because he said you should be friends, theyâd go away. Itâs clear that they wonât.
He forces his eyes away from you and back down to his food, filling the tension with the first question that comes to mind.
âSo, where do you work?â He already knows the answer. Heâs jumped across buildings to make sure you get there safe and done the same for your walks home.
âOh, just this small bookstore. Itâs pretty quiet, but I like it there.â
âYou like to read, then?â He knows this answer too. Thereâs a very full bookshelf in your living room.
You nod, finishing your bite of food before replying, âlove it. Sometimes, when we have extra stock that isnât selling, my boss lets me take books home for free.â
He can hear the honesty in your voice, the excitement you get when talking about something that makes you happy. He likes the sound more than he should.
Steveâs about to ask you something else when it happens; the hairs on his neck and arms standing, the goosebumps trailing across his skin, the ringing in his ears. Somethingâs wrong.
You can see the shift in him. His shoulders tensing, his eyebrows scrunching. You have to say his name three times before he hears you.
âSteve?â
His head snaps over to you, âhm?â
âIs everything okay? I lost you just then.â
âItâs fine,â he drops his fork onto his plate, his hands balled into fists. âI just forgot that I have to do something.â
âWhat?â
âI have to go. Iâm so sorry, you can stay, finish your food. But I really have to go, okay?â
The last thing he wants to do is leave you, but he has to.
âSteve, are you sure everythingâs okay?â You put a hand on his shoulder but he flinches away.
âItâs alright. I gotta go,â he stands and snatches his backpack on his way out the door, âIâm sorry, honey.â
And heâs gone.
-
You donât finish your food. Youâre stuck staring at the door after Steve leaves. Itâs obvious that there's something he isnât telling you, and you wish it didnât bug you so much.
By the time youâre able to snap out of it, the foodâs grown cold. No, you donât eat it, but you try to occupy yourself by cleaning up the best you can without snooping through his stuff. You take as long as you can, hoping that maybe he'll come back at some point.
He doesn't.
The short walk back to your place is almost robotic, your mind in a haze, legs moving on auto-pilot.
Youâve always known that Steve hasnât told you very much about his life. It's been clear in the way he distanced himself from you for so long, in how he likes to ask more questions, let you talk more. Still, you worry that itâs bigger than you ever thought.
You worry that out of all the seemingly impossible things youâve wondered about what could be happening to him when seeing him injured, one of them is true.
It's worse because you like him so much. You care more than you ever should for someone that you donât know all that well. You think you knew him best when he kissed you, when he wasnât talking with his voice at all.
It was unguarded, like something had snapped, frayed enough to let his feelings seep through. Youâd like to know him like that again. Just friends.
You sigh and head to your room to change out of the outfit youâd spent so much time choosing. Then, you do your skincare. Your apartment is completely silent, but your head is a roaring mess of noise. You finish up in minutes, though you feel like it's been longer.
Itâs too early for you to go to bed, and you know you wouldnât be able to sleep if you tried, so you head to your living room and sit on the couch, your knees tucked up to your chest.
You grab the remote and switch on the news, needing something to fill up the silence, to drown out your thoughts.
The headline on the bottom of the screen is what you notice first. The mention of Spider-man.
You rest your chin on your knees and stare at the screen, the rushed footage of that red and blue suit swinging across buildings. The screaming in your head of SteveSteveSteve fades to whispers.
You remember the sound of those webs that hold him up, the air that rushed through your hair and against your skin when he swung you home. You remember the feeling of his suit under your hands and the way the white eyes of his mask were expressive despite being fake.
It feels wrong to think about Spider-man as often as you do while wanting to be around Steve so much. Itâs just curiosity, you tell yourself. He saved me and I canât forget about it.
Youâve been subconsciously searching for him all over the place. Your walks home, the front pages of papers at newsstands. You look for his faceâmask, reallyâand you donât always realize what you're doing.
Still, when the segment about the hero ends, Steve floods back into your mind. Just like he always does.
Heâs growing all over you, vines of ivy stringing across your being just a bit more every time you see him. Youâve never really felt that way, never had someone that you wanted to let so close. It hasnât been long, but he knows you better than most people do.
You huff and get up to grab one of your books. You hope that the words on pages you use to escape so often will work the same way this time.
-
Itâs late when Steve gets home, completely dark, completely quiet.
He climbs in through his window and showers like always when he finishes a patrol. He hates how he had been hoping to see you when he walked into his kitchen.
Instead, he sees that you cleaned up a lot of the dishes, that you were kind enough to do that even when he left the way he did. It sends a ping of something he has to ignore to his heart, a squeeze, an ache.
He doesnât know how heâll explain himself to you, because he doesnât want to lie to you, but he canât tell you the truth, either.
Itâs completely fucked. Heâs fucked.
-
Steve never really explained himself, and you sort of just accepted that. Heâs not obligated to share every bit of his life with you, as much as you want him to. You want to be the person heâs completely himself with.
Itâs selfish, and itâs absolutely not going to happen.
Things go back to normal. Well, as normal as they have been since the kiss. Rather than making him dinner, you and Steve take turns and have a meal together once a week. Heâs finally convinced you to stop buying extra food just for him.
Heâs even made a habit of visiting you at work when things arenât too busy, and with every passing day, any lingering upset or concerns you had about his hasty exit that day seem to melt away.
Heâs human, he has secrets, and you can only hope that they arenât anything thatâs hurting him.
The way that you seem to let things go unanswered with him make your feelings clear. You more than like him, you want to plant yourself on him the way he has on you, to be something to him.
Steveâs been trying again and again to keep himself away from you in a sense. To be platonic and be okay with that, but heâs smart enough to know that the hold you have over him is so much more.
He has no idea how you donât see it all over him, but he figures it might be for the best. If he canât hide it, at least you can be blind to it.
Todayâs another quiet day at the bookstore. Business seems to be slowing more and more in the independent shop, and though you love the quiet, youâd hate to lose the place. The smell of the books and their pages, the section of used books with enough character to fill the space.
The first eventful part of your day so far has been the phone ringing, and you pick it up quickly.
âHello?â
âHey, honey,â itâs Steve, just like youâd hoped. âYou busy?â
âNot at all.â
âHungry?â
Somehow, his voice sounds even better over the phone. The crackle of it in the speakers, the way that itâs all you have to focus on since you canât see him at the moment. It has a bigger presence.
âI could eat,â you say.
âThatâs great, âcause I already ordered the food.â
âSteeeve.â
He can almost hear the smile in your voice, and if he shuts his eyes tight enough, he can see it, too. The shyness behind it, the way your shoulder will lift to your cheek. Itâs cute.
âYou donât mind if I stop by, do you?â He asks, like itâs even a question.
âYouâd show up no matter what I said.â
âButâŠâ
âYou know I donât mind. Youâll be my first customer of the day!â
âWhat an honor,â thereâs silence for a moment, and you can hear each other breathing on the other line. âIâll see you in a few, âkay?â
âOkay.â
The phoneâs hung up with a click.
In the time it takes Steve to walk (swing, but you donât know that) over, you walk around and tidy up anything thatâs out of place. You do this every time he calls to ask if itâs alright that he visits, trying to make the minutes go by faster.
Youâre straightening books on the front display table when the bell above the door jingles, and soon after, a wide hand covering your eyes.
âGuess who.â
âHmmm, let me think. Spider-man?â
Youâre clearly joking, but Steveâs stunned. If you listen close enough, you can hear his sharp intake of breath at your reply. She doesnât know, he convinces himself. She doesnât know, shake it off.
âHa ha. Very funny.â
Steve takes his hand away from your face and sets the paper takeout bag on the front counter next to the register, the bag crinkling as he opens it.
âMmm,â you hum, looking at the spread of what heâs brought you. âYouâre the best.â
He likes being called the best by you, and he likes the feeling he gets when he hears it. Like heâs someone important, someone good.
âYeah, well. Iâve gotta make up for all of the meals youâve made me.â
He always says that, and you always tell him the same things. âYou donât owe me anything, Steve.â
He absolutely does. He owes you so much. For the food youâve made him, for patching him up and never pushing the subject, for being the person you are and bringing out the person he hasnât been in a long, long time.
He wonât tell you that, though, so he just shakes his head. âDig in.â
You do, and so does he, the white, cardboard containers spread across the counter. You talk between bites of food, the easy kind of conversation that isnât very common, especially for someone like you.
You donât have people, really. Steve is the someone you do have.
He asks you about the book you have sitting on the counter, and he listens to everything you say like he really cares. You bond over the poor water pressure in your showers, and you laugh at Steveâs impression of your landlord. Itâs your favorite kind of lunch break.
Your shifts usually feel slow, but when Steve shows up, time flies by. Before you know it, youâre stacking the empty boxes and tossing them in the garbage.
âThanks for the food, Steve.â
ââCourse.â Heâs about to say something else when it happens again.
The tingling over his skin, the goosebumps spreading all over, his hairs standing up. He takes a deep breath and shuts his eyes, forgetting that youâre there to see him do it, focusing on his senses and where he has to go.
âSteve?â
Shit. He has to leave again. At least he made it through the meal this time. Thatâs something.
âYeah?â
âAre you alright?â
âPerfect, yeah. Just, um, a headache.â
You donât look convinced, but like you so often do, you drop it. Steve doesnât know why you let him get away with so much, and he feels awful for it. Heâll tell you one day, maybe, when itâs safe. Just not today.
âI have some water, here,â you go to grab it but he stops you.
âThatâs okay, honey. I think Iâll just head home.â
âOkay.â
âHave a good rest of your shift, okay?â
âYeah. Bye.â
He grabs his backpack and heads out the door. You wait for him to be a few steps away and then you peek out the door, eyes following his figure on the sidewalk.
You see him break into a run before turning into an alleyway. Youâre confused all over again.
-
Steve really wasnât expecting it to be so bad this time, especially considering the fact that the sunâs still up.
Heâd changed into his suit in that alley you saw him run into, hiding behind a dumpster and swinging off as quick as he could when he was done. He shouldâve guessed itâd be serious by how strong his senses came on. Shouldâve seen it coming.
He was a little busy thinking about you.
But then he saw what was going on and forced himself to focus. There was a group, maybe five, six people, who'd made some sort of enhanced weapons using electricity, and his superpowers, as great as they are, donât protect him from the shocks those things could cause.
Not to mention how outnumbered he was. He knew this one could take a while. First, he focused on getting anyone in danger out of there, clearing the area until it was just him, the people with the weapons, and news reporters stupid enough to stay on scene.
He had to be smart for this one, so he used heights to his advantage, staying above them all while tracking them quickly. Steve also made sure they didnât start heading in the direction of the bookstore, your bookstore.
The first two were easy to get, the ones that fell behind their group. Steve was able to web them up without getting too close.
It gets tougher after that. The others seem smarter, strategic, and he had to be better than them to make it stop. He takes a second to hide from them, closing his eyes and really letting his senses do the work.
When he opens his eyes again, things move in a blur.
Heâs flipping and ducking, narrowly avoiding their shots, running harder than he has in a while. Itâs the type of day thatâll leave him sore in the morning, he knows that for sure. Before he really processes it, thereâs only two guys left to catch.
Thereâs a wake of broken and burning things behind them, but Steve canât stop to fix anything until this is taken care of, so he doesnât even look back.
Just as he tries to web one of them, they shoot at him, and the electric current collides with his web, sending a shock up his arm. A zap so quick, he couldnât see it coming. Heâs distracted from it, his hand shaky and it makes things harder.
After some swinging and punching, he manages to get one guy. In the midst of it, heâs lost the other one. At least, until he feels a spark of pain in his side. The electricity was focused enough to leave a welt on his skin, one he can already feel developing.
Heâs too late to avoid the second hit when he spots the guy, ducked behind a dumpster, peeking out like a sniper. The same side is hit, and he knows another mark will prove that.
Steve has to rush around the corner to get out of sight and recover for a moment, a handâshaking and sweaty in his gloveâcoming to hover over the burn marks on his suit.
âFuck,â he breathes. The pain is sharp and hot, the kind that doesnât go away until itâs taken care of. âOkay. Get the guy, and go. Itâs fine.â
He grunts when he stands straight again, another noise escaping him when he shoots a web and swings around the corner back to the alley. The last guy is still by the dumpster, and Steve lets go of his web and lands close enough to knock him off balance.
The guy must panic, because he pulls the trigger on Steve and manages to nick his side a third time. From this close, the current is only amplified. Steveâs knocked to the side, but he manages to stay upright.
Get him, and go home. Do it. He has to push himself, and it has to be enough to finish the job. When he realizes that heâs closer to the bookstore than he was before, he clenches his fists and punches the man hard enough that he falls to the ground.
Steve webs his there, and then he slumps against the wall of the alleyway, his side burning, his breathing short. He has to get home.
He breathes out a deep breath and stands, shooting his first web and gritting his teeth as he goes up with it. He swings by news anchors and finds it in himself to mumble, âfucking idiots,â at them.
By the time he gets inside his apartment via the window, itâs dark outside, and he doesnât know how long he spent wrangling that group. Heâs a mess of panting and sweating, his suit scorched and his skin an ugly color.
He takes a cool shower and throws on a thin shirt and the first pair of sweatpants he finds. He has to sit on his bed for a solid ten minutes to make sure he doesnât pass out the next time he stands.
But when he does get up, he heads to his door like the absolute idiot he is. He heads into the hall to find you.
-
You stand up quick enough to get a head rush when he knocks on your door. You know itâs him, thatâs not the question going through your head. No, youâre wondering if heâs okay.
Your heartâs already racing when you open the door. It gets quicker when you see him.
âSteve?â Your eyes flicker all over his face, searching for blood or bruising. Anything at all. âYou okay?â
Steveâs eyes are bloodshot, his forehead damp with sweat and the droplets of water falling from his hair. Even so, all he tells you is: âI just wanted to make sure you-â his face scrunches, he pants between his words â-you got home okay.â
âIâm good. Iâm alright,â you say, though itâs obvious since youâre standing right in front of him. âWhat about you?â
âIâm fine.â He holds up his arm in a weak thumbs up and winces with the movement. You arenât fooled in the slightest.
âNo, youâre not. Get inside and let me help you.â
âHoney-â
You grab his hand gently, your fingers wrapped around his. You can feel him shaking as you tug him inside and shut the door. âCome on.â
He doesnât really have it in him to argue with you, and as much as he shouldnât, he wants to be around you, to hurt less because of your comfort and your soft touch.
Steve lets you lead him into your bathroom once more, watches as you bend down to grab the first-aid kit from the cabinet under your sink. He still has the bandages you gave him, and heâs lucky he wonât need them now since heâs not bleeding. He didnât bring them with him.
You guide him to stand in front of the counter where the light is best and reach for his face, your hands holding his cheeks and tilting him down to you. His hands grasp your wrists, like an instinct.
Thereâs guilt in his eyes that you try to ignore. A frown tugs between your brows, at the corners of your lips.
âYou look a little pale. What happened?â
âI canât- I canât tell you that right now.â
You push his hair away from his forehead before pulling your hands away. You bite the inside of your cheek and nod. Youâre more worried about him right now; you can worry about whatever happened later.
Steve goes to lean against the counter. He grunts when his back hits it, his hand covering his side in reflex. You catch it.
âTake your shirt off.â
âWha-â
âYouâre hurt, Steve. I can tell. Let me see it.â
âIâm fine.â
âStop saying that and let me see. Please.â
He blows out a slow breath and reaches for the hem of his shirt, because he knows you wonât let it go until he shows you. Taking his shirt off is uncomfortable, and he makes quiet sounds to prove it. He keeps his eyes cast onto the floor when he tosses his shirt aside.
You look down slowly, your eyes passing down his neck and chest first, then lingering on his stomach for a second too long. Youâd never expect him to be built the way he is, lines of muscle under his skin.
You canât focus on that for long, not when you notice the three welts on his side. Thereâs already bruising, shades of purple and green spreading, outlined in redness.
You swear you can feel something crack in your chest, the sadness that seeps into your eyes in the form of tears along your waterline. âOh my god.â
He hates the way your voice sounds, the way your expression shows how worried you are for him. He hates that someone like you is so concerned about him.
âIt looks worse than it is.â
âSteve.â
You kneel on the tiles in front of him to get a closer look. Your hands hover over the marks, too afraid to touch him, too afraid to hurt him even more.
Steveâs shaky hands grab yours, squeezing your fingers like heâs reminding you heâs okay, heâs alive enough to do that. You donât look at his face, but he canât look away from yours.
âWhat can I do to help?â You ask.
âYouâre doing more than enough,â he says quietly, his voice a low hum in the air. âTheyâll go away.â
Who could possibly be hurting him? This boy with soft eyes and a kindness even the highest of walls couldnât keep hidden.
âIâm so sorry, Steve.â
You lean forward and peck the skin of his stomach, just beside the bruises. Youâre not thinking about the consequences when you do it, youâre only thinking about how much pain he must keep hidden from everyone. About how much youâd do to make it go away.
Steve doesnât know whether to cry or kiss you stupid for it. He settles on tugging you up to stand with his grip on your hands and leaning his forehead against yours. Heâs not thinking about the consequences, either.
âDonât you dare be sorry. Not you.â
âYouâre hurting.â
âAnd you have nothing to do with that. If anything, you do the opposite.â
You squeeze your eyes shut to stop any tears from escaping.
âWill you stay for a bit?â
No, thereâs absolutely no thinking about the consequences when youâre this close, when your hands are in his. Thereâs no thinking when Steve agrees.
âYeah, honey. Iâll stay.â
You nod and breathe in, catching the scent of his body wash, and pull away. You have to force yourself to let go of him and move out of his way so he can put his shirt back on.
Steve has to stop himself from reaching for you when you step away. Instead, he tries not to wince again when he picks up his shirt and pulls it on.
He follows you out into the living room, sits beside you on the couch and leaves distance between you. He observes you as you pick out a movie to put on, thanks you when you toss him a blanket.
He feels warm all over at the way you seem to take care of him without thinking. It spreads from his chest and expands and expands and expands until itâs everywhere from his head to his toes.
-
Somehow, you end up with Steveâs head in your lap.
The inches separating you and him on the couch grew shorter and shorter as you spoke until your thighs touched. You both acted like you didnât notice.
Then, the further you got into the movie, the quieter you both became. So quiet that you hadnât noticed how tired Steve was until you felt his head drop against your shoulder. You were barely able to smile at the action before he jerked himself upright.
âSorry.â
âDonât be. Youâre tired.â
âYou must be, too.â
You shake your head, ânot really. You should lay down.â
âI can just go,â he said, like thatâs what youâd prefer.
âIâve got a comfy lap, promise.â
Steve blames his tiredness and the haze of it all for agreeing and laying on his side, his cheek against the top of your thigh.
Heâd never say it out loud, but he does feel really comfortable in the moment. He almost forgets about the bruising on his side. It takes a lot for him not to wrap his arms around you then.
âYou can sleep if you want to,â you say, noticing the way his eyes blink heavily.
âThen youâll be stuck here.â
That wouldnât be so bad, you think. âIâll go to bed when I want to. Iâll be sneaky, you wonât even notice.â
âAs long as you wake me up if you have to.â
âSure I will.â
Steve knows you absolutely wonâtâhe knows youâd rather fall asleep where youâre sitting and risk a sore neck than disturb him, because thatâs who you areâbut he doesnât call you on it. Instead, he shuts his eyes and lets the comfort of your apartment, of you, put him to sleep.
You look down at him after a bit, and you notice his even breaths, the pout on his mouth as he sleeps. Softly, you run your fingers through his hair, pulling apart the tangles gently.
Without thinking, you keep doing it until the movie ends. You still arenât tired, and you really donât want to wake him up, so you grab your remote and switch it to the news.
Theyâre talking about Spider-man, you realize. They talk about him a lot.
âToday, a group of criminals with illegally enhanced weapons were taken down by none other than our cityâs masked hero, Spider-man.â
The anchor talks in that classic news lady voice, one that would usually have you turning down the volume, but where Spider-manâs involved, youâre inclined to listen.
âWe have some witness clips here, where you can see him in action.â
The screen switches to show a video that was taken on a bystanderâs phone, the footage shaky, the witness dumb enough to stand there and film rather than run.
You can see Spider-man fighting someone, can see the quick flashes of webbing as well as the opponentâs weapon shooting. You can see how quick he is, the way his reflexes work. You think about what it was like to see it with your own eyes.
Then, it cuts to a new video, where he seems to be swinging away from the scene, but towards the camera. The anchor says something that makes your ears ring.
âIt looks like there are some burn marks on his suit where Spider-man was hit. Three on his side, Iâm being told.â
Three marks. On his side.
It has to be a coincidence that Steve showed up to your door after the whole Spider-man thing had happened with the exact same injuries, right?
Then, what if it isnât? What if this is why heâs been getting hurt all this time?
You think about every interaction with Steve youâve had. The day you met, when he carried your boxes without breaking a sweat. The way he tried so hard to isolate himself from you, the lack of details he shares about his life. The injuries heâs come to you with, the scars youâve noticed but havenât mentioned.
And most recently, the way heâs left in a hurry after zoning out for a minute.
You think your heartbeat might be loud enough to wake Steve up.
Steve.
You look down at his face, at the delicate skin under his eyes, at the way his eyelashes rest there in his sleep. You look down at this boy, asleep in your lap, and realize that heâs carrying all that weight by himself.
If youâre right about this, about him being Spider-man, you think he deserves even more than what you give him. More than the dinners and the company, more than the friendship. He deserves to be hugged, to be told how strong he is.
Fuck, you need to thank him, if youâre right. Because heâs the one who saved you, the one who brought you home and made sure you got inside, the one who reminded you to take care of your wrist.
Holy shit. That realization makes your head spin.
âWho are you, Steve?â You whisper. He canât hear you, heâs fast asleep, but you ask anyway.
When you finally manage to lift his head from your lap and get up, shutting off the TV as you do, you head to your bedroom. You lay on your back on top of your sheets and stare at the ceiling.
You donât sleep very much that night.
-
Cooking has become something to do to keep you busy, to take your mind off things. So, when youâre sure youâre not getting any more sleep, it feels natural to head to the kitchen and start making breakfast.
You move about your small kitchen as quietly as you can, the presence of the boy asleep on your couch something hard to ignore. The boy youâre pretty sure is Spider-man, the boy you more than like.
Despite Steveâs enhanced hearing, he doesnât wake up due to any noise. No, for the first time in a long time, he blinks his eyes open slowly and lets the sunlight seeping through the window get him up. He stretches before standing up from your couch.
Thereâs a stiff ache in his side, which isnât surprising, but it still has him cursing under his breath at the reminder of yesterday.
His voice makes you peek over your shoulder at him. âGood morning.â
Steve rubs his eyes and looks over at you standing by the stove. He has to rub them again to make sure he isnât dreaming.
He walks over and leans against the counter next to where you cook. âHi. Thanks for letting me stay.â
You give him a quick smile, a sunbeam.
Youâve decided to try and act normal with him, act like you donât know this huge piece of information. He deserves the space to tell you in his own time. That is, if heâll ever tell you at all.
âYeah. You feel okay?â
âBit sore. Itâll go away.â
âI doubt my cheap couch helped with that.â
âIt helped.â
He sounds so sure about that, like it was the best sleep he couldâve gotten.
âAre you hungry?â You ask. Youâve already cooked enough for him, too.
âI donât want to overstay or anything.â
âSteve, Iâm offering. Iâd like it if you stayed for breakfast.â
His stomach growls before heâs able to reply. You both laugh softly, you amused, him embarrassed. âGuess thatâs a yes.â
Steve acts the same as he usually does as you eat, keeping conversations steered towards you, pretending like there arenât bruises under his shirt as you speak. He seems to forget the powers that he has, the persona thatâs a kept secret.
He wants to thank you over and over, to apologize to you over and over, to tell you all of the things he swore he couldnât feel for you. He wants to tell you so much, but heâs scaredânot nearly as brave as he is when he has his mask onâand he canât get anything out.
Steve just wishes he could put into words exactly what you do for him, how unfair he knows it is to ask of you, how much it means that you help him regardless.
Instead of doing any of that, he eats the food you cook and shares more smiles with you than he does with anyone.
You watch as he takes his empty plate and rinses it off for you, the way his t-shirt is a bit tighter across his upper back, the set of his shoulders. Those shoulders that carry so much all by himself.
Youâre frowning before you can help it. Not because he hasnât told you, you can understand that, but because he must be so convinced that heâs better off doing it all alone.
âThanks again for breakfast. You cook too many meals for me.â He lingers by your door, rocking on his feet like heâs not sure where to go.
âYou sure youâre okay?â
Steveâs expression shifts in the smallest way when you ask. He canât wrap his head around someone caring about himâbesides Robinâto ask so often.
âIâm okay.â
Before you can really think about it you walk up to him and wrap your arms around his shoulders. You squeeze him as tight as you can while being mindful not to hurt him. Your face is tucked into the side of his neck, and he can feel your lips on his skin.
His arms seem to move before heâs aware of it, hugging you back around your waist, squeezing you just as tight. He needed this, he thinks, and somehow, you knew he did.
âI really care about you, Steve.â
He rests his chin on your head, breathing in the smell of your shampoo, shutting his eyes to try and capture how it feels to be held by you, to hold you.
âMe too, honey.â
/á (àčâžàč)á\
thank u for reading!! if u enjoyed, please please consider reblogging and letting me know what you think!!! it helps more than youâd think <3
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NDKZKDKSCIKSOFKCKCKXKZKKXOSKFKSID LETâS GOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!
put on your records (and regret me)
You love WAMC-Hawkins, Indianaâs top college radio station. Itâs your safe space, your niche. Itâs where youâve made your friends, your favorite place to be when the rest of the world gets to be just a bit too much. Well, with one exception.
Steve Harrington is a thorn in your side. And just as well - he thinks youâre a royal pain in the ass. But in your senior year, youâre both on the e-board, so you have to work together. You love to hate him. So why canât you get him out of your head? And, why do you find yourself going to see his band, each and every weekend?
Underground basement concerts, spinning old records, and screaming matches in the vinyl library with the boy you love to hate. An enemies-to-lovers college radio station AU.
PART 1
PART 2
PART 3
PART 4
PART 5
FIC PLAYLIST
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I CANâT BELIEVE IâM JUST NOW READINH THISMDKSMDMSKFKDKCKFKFK IâM SO FUCKINH ANNOYED BECAUSE THIS WAS SO STEAMY AND HOT AND SEXU AND THEN DUSTIN IS THERE LIKE A LITTLE SATAN SMILING JSKSKDKSKFKSKDKDKDKD THE COCKBLOCKING OMG đđđ€Łđ€Łđ€Ł
This was so hot I donât CARE how dirty or disgusting the bathroom probably was if itâs Steve Iâm D O W N! This was amazingggggg!!!!
Girl, You Really Got Me Goinâ; Steve Harrington x reader
Part 1/6: Five times you and Steve get âš interrupted âš in public and one time you donât (5+1)
You took a moment to do the same, admiring the way the soft strands of hair fell into his eyes from where your hands had raked through it, his sweater crumpled and dishevelled from you pulling at it, his pupils slightly blown and eyes glassy like he was high and fuck, he felt like he was.Â
Keep reading
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OMG OMG OMG DISKKDZMFKSMCKSMIDKDOFOSOEJDKSJFKZIFKDOFKXLDID
Spiderman!Steve you have all my heart!!! I love love love this AU so much!!! The way you managed to fit his self-sacrificing, suffering alone personality into Spiderman is AMAZING! The way I was getting emotional over the fact that only Robin knows about him and his little secret because he doesnât trust anyone as much as he trusts her and he also canât keep a secret from his soulmate lol!đ„čđ„č
THE ENDINGGGGGGGGGG!!! HEâS JUST MAKING ME SO FKSKFKXKSMXKSKDKXKKFCKSLDLKDKCODOEORKRLOROTLFJSMXBNSGSUDKEKD
Loved this!!!!!
single thread
part 1, part 2, part 3
pairing: spider-man!steve harrington x fem!reader
summary: steve has a big secret and convinces himself he needs to stay away from you to keep you safe. thatâs tough to do when youâre his neighbour.
word count: 8.2k
warnings: spider-man!steve au, some violence (r is attacked and a pocket knife is mentioned but nothing major happens), blood/injuries, strangers/sort of friends to lovers (ish?)
a/n: i really liked writing this one and i hope u guys like it too!!! spidey!steve is something iâve wanted to try for a while and here it is!!!! heâs my baby <3
/á (àčâžàč)á\
When Steve moved to Indianapolis, not once did he think heâd get bit by some radioactive spider and gain super powers. Yet, here he is, swinging through the city like something out of some comic book. Sometimes he doesnât even believe itâs real, and itâs his life.
On his way home, he spots his building easily, the route embedded in his head. The corners to turn, the spots to shoot his webs.
Stuck to the wall beside his window, he tries to open it and realizes he left it locked. âIdiot,â he grumbles to himself.
With a groan he jumps down, landing in the alley. He throws his clothes over his suit and makes sure nobodyâs around before slipping the mask off and into his bag. For once, he uses the actual door to enter the building.
He opts for the stairs and when he makes it to his floor he sees you in the hallway. He resists the urge to go back down and wait a couple of minutes.
His door is across from yours, and when he walks over, youâre quick to send him a smile and a âhello.â He nods at you and faces his door, unlocking it quickly and going inside.
Itâs not that he doesnât like you, itâs that he doesnât want to involve people in his life when itâs gotten so complicated. He has Robin in the city and thatâs about it. And he already worries enough about her. If heâd met you pre-bite, things would be much different.
Heâd return your kind smiles and greetings, heâd tell you when he likes your outfit or thinks your hair looks really nice (which is pretty much every time he sees you, even when you think itâs awful).
Heâd rather not put you in any danger, though, so he doesnât. He just thinks youâre pretty and keeps it to himself.
You donât know any of that, however, so youâre convinced that Steve doesnât like you and you have no idea why. Every time his only response is a nod or a limp wave, you wait until heâs out of sight to frown, to scrunch your eyebrows.
You try to think about what you mightâve done.
You first met Steve when you moved into the building, your hair held away from your face with a clip, baby hairs sticking to your damp forehead, and your sweatshirt hanging off your shoulder. Not your best look.
He mustâve heard the thump of boxes hitting the ground, the mumbled curses you kept uttering. Knuckling at his tired eyes, he opened his door and peeked his head into the hallway.
âWhat the-â
He shut right up when you turned around, smiling (almost wincing) at him.
âHi,â you introduced yourself, and he repeated your name so quietly you didnât even hear it. âSorry about the noise. I have a lot of stuff.â
He nodded, looking at the few boxes in the hall, âyouâre moving in?â
âYeah.â
âYou need some help?â
âSeriously?â He half nodded, half shrugged. âThat would be great. Thank you so much.â
âSure. âM Steve, by the way.â
Steve. Heâs pretty, you thought. Brown, fluffy hair and soft eyes, a mouth you think must look even better when he smiles.
He carried the heavier boxes without complaint or breaking a sweat. His arms flexed with the actions, but his face was completely unaffected. You were amazed. And probably stared at him too much.
When every box was inside your apartment, youïżœïżœd thanked him, and heâd brushed it off saying it was no problem and went back inside his own place.
No problem, like he didnât carry box after box for you because you couldnât afford movers.
Now, with your back against the inside of your door after seeing him in the hallway, you replay that meeting once again. You canât figure out what you did. Worse, you think, maybe you didnât do anything at all and youâre just someone whoâs easy to dislike.
Maybe it wouldnât matter so much if he wasnât so good looking. If he didnât make you nervous whenever his eyes glanced over you, if you had actual friends to occupy your time, if you didnât want him to like you so bad.
If, if, if.
You try to stop thinking about it and pick up the book youâd left on your coffee table. You have to reread passages, distracted and unfocused.
-
The bookstoreâs been slow today.
Youâve been keeping yourself as busy as possible, even with an empty store. Dusting shelves, re-organizing sections that looked fine before, switching displays around. Eventually you gave in and sat behind the counter with a book, watching people pass by the front windows.
The sun set at some point, sinking behind buildings and leaving the city lit by streetlights and warm glows seeping through windows.
As boring as it can be, you wouldnât be doing much different if you were at home. Finding things to do to pass time, sitting around aimlessly. At least here, you get paid for doing it.
When itâs time to close up youâre not sure if your sigh is from relief or disappointment. Youâre lonely often, but itâs harder to ignore it when youâre all alone at home, no people around at all, even if theyâre mostly just passing by on the sidewalk.
You go through the list, sweeping, setting the alarm, shutting off the lights, and locking the door.
The night air is cool, light wind blowing at your cheeks, ruffling your hair. The usual sounds surround you. Honking horns and tires rolling against pavement, indistinguishable voices and the click of the bookstore door locking.
You keep your keys in your hand while you walk home, one of them sticking up between your knuckles. Just in case.
One foot in front of the other, again and again, you walk along the sidewalk. Your footsteps a steady rhythm, hands tucked in your pockets to keep them warm, head bent to avoid making eye contact with any other pedestrians.
Only a couple of minutes from your place, you can hear someone walking along behind you. You shake your head, telling yourself theyâre probably just headed in the same direction.
That reassurance disappears when the stranger whistles at you.
You donât look up, you donât turn around, you just keep your head down and walk faster, your heartbeat speeding in your chest. Youâve seen stories of what can happen to someone walking home alone. You never thought youâd have one of your own.
âHey, cupcake! Where you going?â His voice is scratchy and scary. You pick up your pace even more.
At your ignorance, the man speaks again, âIâm talking to you.â His hand grabs your sleeve when he says it.
More afraid than youâve ever been, you jerk your arm from his grasp and stupidly turn down an alleyway as a shortcut. Itâs a horrible decision, but when youâre scared like that, itâs really hard to think straight.
You feel bad for being annoyed with people in horror movies. You get it now.
Youâre almost jogging now, but it doesnât deter the man. No, he catches up and grabs your wrist, twisting you around and pushing your back roughly into the brick wall of the building behind you.
Your wrist is slammed against it where he grabbed you, no doubt scratching your skin and making you flinch, your keys falling from your grasp.
This is it, you think. Iâm gonna die here. Alone.
Your eyes water, a tear drips down your cheek and the man laughs in your face. You try to break away from his hold but he doesnât let up. The only thing you manage is to knee him in the thigh, but it doesnât do much.
âNice try, cupcake. Iâve got you now.â he says. Thatâs when you notice the glint of a pocket knife in his hand.
âPlease. Donât,â is all you can say, trying and trying to get your arms out of the manâs tight hold. Tight enough to bruise.
Steveâs hair stands at the back of his neck, on his arms. Until now, his patrolling had been quiet. Easy fixes like an elderly woman not crossing the street quick enough or a man whoâd locked his keys in his car.
Now, his instincts tell him this thing isnât so small.
Without a second thought, he jumps from where heâd been perched at the ledge of a building and swings in the direction his senses take him. In your direction.
One second, youâre squeezing your eyes shut, thinking itâs the end, and the next, thereâs the sound of someone landing in the alley and the thwip of a web.
The man is pulled off of you so fast you can barely keep up. Thereâs a flash of blue and red, hints of webbing being shot, and just like that, your attacker is knocked out and stuck to the opposite wall.
Your chest heaves and your back slides down the wall, landing on your bum on the pavement.
Steve turns around now that the manâs been dealt with and he thinks his heart stops for a second. He hadnât realized itâd been you. You and your sweet smile, now turned to tears streaking your cheeks.
He thought, without him, youâd be better off. Maybe he was wrong. Maybe he shouldâve been keeping an eye on you. For now, heâs sort of glad he hasnât spoken to you much, only because thereâs a better chance you wonât recognize his voice.
Steve moves to crouch in front of you, âare you okay? Did he hurt you?â His hands hover by the sides of your face, like heâs holding himself back from touching you. Restraining himself.
Spider-man is in front of you. Spider-man with his suit and white-eyed mask who just saved your life is right there in front of you. So much for a slow day.
You shake your head and wipe your cheeks with your palms, âno. No, just- um, just my wrist, I think.â
âCan I look?â
You hold out your arm for him to see, and he moves his hands down, one tugging back your sleeve and the other holding your wrist gently. The fabric of his gloves brushes against your skin lightly, careful not to touch you where youâre hurt.
âDoesnât look sprained. Just scraped,â he says. He looks up from your arm to your face, the eyes on his mask narrowing ever so slightly. âYouâre sure you arenât hurt anywhere else?â
He sounds genuinely worried. Like, you can hear it in his voice. It makes you want to cry all over again. Youâd always thought that when Spider-man dealt with the bad guys, heâd just move on. Now, you can see that he cares a lot more than that.
You shake your head, âIâm fine.â
As fine as you can be after what just happened.
He nods and stands, offering you his hands to help you up. You pick up your keys and accept, slipping your hands into his. He pulls you up and squeezes your fingers before letting go.
âWill you let me take you home?â He asks.
Youâre sort of in shock, and youâd rather not walk anymore. So, you agree.
He opens his arms for you, picking you up easily with a single arm wrapped around your waist. Your own arms go around his neck, legs tentatively wrapping around his waist.
âReady?â
âYeah,â you almost whisper.
He hears you loud and clear, your mouth close to his ear, his senses seemingly even more heightened than usual with you around.
âHold on,â he says.
Then, you hear the whip of his webs and youâre in the air. Your limbs tighten around him.
âOh my god. Oh my god.â
The wind rushes all around you. In your ears, your hair, your jacket. The city does, too, lights flickering by and buildings growing distant over his shoulder. You squeeze your eyes shut.
âYou okay?â He asks over the wind.
âMaybe!â
You can feel his chest rumble with a chuckle. You wish you couldâve heard it, too.
He swings you towards your building when he remembers heâs not supposed to know where you live, âwhere to?â
You tell him, yelling over the noise not realizing he can hear you just fine normally. You donât know about those superpowers, focused on the ones that have him transporting you home.
He gets you there quickly, landing just outside the front entrance. You stay wrapped around him for a second before you realize youâve stopped moving. You remove yourself from him so quickly he has to steady you with hands on your upper arms so you donât fall.
âYou okay from here?â He checks, his head lowering to catch your gaze.
âYeah. Thank you forâŠâ Saving my life, making sure Iâm okay, taking me home. Everything since you landed in the alley.
âJust doing my job.â
âRight. Thanks again,â you turn to head inside.
âGoodnight. And take care of your wrist!â
âGoodnight, Spider-man.â
-
Steve sees you more often after that night. He thinks the universe might be punishing him. Making him see you more, making him work harder to keep his distance.
He tossed and turned the entire night after bringing you home. He wondered if you were actually okay, trying to listen in case you were crying or having a nightmare. He worried so much more than he would have if it had been any other person and he hated it.
He saw you the next morning. You were checking your mail at the same time as him. Your sleeve had ridden up, exposing the scratches on your wrist from the brick wall, the faint bruises of fingerprints, your eyes tired.
âAre you okay?â He couldnât help but ask, gesturing limply at your hand. Maybe if you give him a convincing yes, he can finally stop thinking about you so much.
You look down at your arm when he asks, quickly tugging your sleeve back down to cover it up. âOh. Itâs nothing.â
Itâs not nothing. He knows it isnât because he was there and he saw at least a part of what happened to you. He canât let you know that, so he just nods and turns to his mailbox, listening to your footsteps as you walk out of the mailroom and back up to your apartment. His fingers twitch by his side.
Steveâs used to feeling protective over people, thatâs not new, but to feel so protective over someone he barely knows hasnât happened before. That night haunts him. Your tear-streaked face, the blooming bruises on your arm. He never wants to see you hurting again.
Maybe thatâs why he starts returning your greetings in the halls, actually pausing to ask how you are, to smile back at you (theyâre tight-lipped smiles, but itâs something).
Heâs trying to be kind without getting any closer. No matter how much he wants to know you.
One day, as Steveâs heading out for the late shift, youâre just getting home from your own job, it seems. The clip in your hair has loosened since you put it in, strands falling freely around your face. For a second, Steve has the urge to tuck them behind your ears.
He pushes that down.
âHi,â he says, his door shut behind him.
âHi, Steve.â
âHow are you?â
âOkay, thanks. Tired,â you fiddle with the frayed hem of your knitted sweater. âHad the opening shift today.â
âAh. Any plans?â
âProbably just gonna take a nap.â
He nods. For a second you think he mightâve asked because he wanted to do something with you. Itâs a stupid thought and you push it away.
âHave a good nap, then,â he gives you the close-mouthed smile thatâs become more common between you, and heads towards the stairs.
The shift in his behavior towards you hasnât been huge, but itâs been enough for you to notice it. He talks to you sometimesâalways briefly, but stillâhe doesnât turn away from you as soon as he gets the chance like he used to.
Itâs confusing, but youâre happy about it anyway. Maybe he just needed some time to warm up to you a bit. Maybe he doesnât hate you after all.
Inside your apartment, you change into sweats and practically collapse onto your couch, playing something mindless on the TV and pulling a blanket over yourself.
You really are tired, but itâs not only from working early. Lately, your dreams have been haunted by rough hands, dark alleys, and flashes of blue and red. You constantly feel like there are eyes on you, and when you walk home from closing shifts, you always search for a certain superhero at the tops of buildings.
You fall asleep at some point, and by the time you wake up, itâs dark outside.
-
Days seem to blur together. Repetitive and tiring all the same. The only thing you have to look forward to lately is your short conversations with Steve in the halls.
Youâre not sure how many days later it is when you fall asleep on your couch again. This time, youâre woken up by noises coming from the hallway, right by your door. You get up slowly, feet hitting the cool floors as you walk over to your door.
You donât know what time it is, but from the darkness of your apartment and the random game show that plays on your TV, you know itâs late.
Peeking through your peephole, you see Steve, fumbling with his keys and almost limping. You open the door.
âSteve?â
He shuts his eyes when he hears your voice, all sleepy and worried.
Like an idiot, heâd left his window locked again and had to use the door after a night of patrolling. A worse night than usual.
You gasp when he spins to face you, one of his eyes swollen shut, a cut on his eyebrow, his nose bleeding, and another cut on his lip.
âOh my god,â you step forward a little, leaving your door open. âWhat happened?â
âIâm fine. Sorry for waking you.â
âYouâre bleeding,â you say. âCome on. Let me help you.â
You grasp his arm lightly in both of your hands, and when he doesnât protest, lead him into your apartment.
Steveâs suit feels tighter now, scratching his skin where it sits because he worries youâll see it despite his layers on top of it. Still, he could use some help. And he canât bring himself to be upset that youâre the one helping him.
âYou donât have to,â his voice is scratchy.
âI want to help you, okay?â
You bring him into your bathroom, making him sit on the toilet lid. You leave him there for a bit, coming back with some ice in a dish cloth.
âHere, for your eye.â He takes it from you and sucks in a breath when he presses it against his swollen skin.
âThank you for doing this.â
ââCourse.â
You pull out your first-aid kit from under your sink, setting it on the counter and taking out what you need. You grab another cloth, wetting it in the sink.
âHere,â you stand between his legs, using a bent finger to tilt his chin up towards you. You wipe the dried blood from his skin in silence, Steveâs eyes shut, yours running all over his face.
Youâre surprised he trusts you enough to let you do this. You wonder if this is why heâs so closed-off. If maybe heâs involved in something that gets him hurt. Often.
An underground boxing ring, debt with bad people, so many possibilities cross your mind, not a single one being the truth.
Once his face is as clean as it can be, you move on to disinfecting the cuts by his eyebrow and lip. âThis might sting a little.â
âSâokay.â
His face pinches a little bit when you dab away at his cuts, but he doesnât make any noise. All you can hear is his deep breaths and the small sound of his leg bouncing.
His nose hasnât bled anymore since you cleaned it, and he keeps the ice over his eye the entire time. The cut by his lip looks much smaller when thereâs no blood surrounding it.
Only his eyebrow needs a small bandage, which you grab and unwrap. âLast step.â
He feels you press the bandage on, your fingers lightly pushing the sides onto his skin to make sure itâs stuck. The process, he finds, hurts much less when you do it.
He misses your warmth when you step away from him. âThank you.â
âAre you in trouble, or something? What happened to you?â
âItâs not a big deal. I swear.â
He hates lying to you, but he convinces himself itâs better this way. For your own good.
You donât look convinced but you drop it. âOkay.â
âI should go,â he stands from where heâd been sitting and waivers a little, leaning on the counter.
âYou shouldnât be alone right now.â
âIâm fine, just got dizzy.â
âYou can take the couch, if you want. Itâs not a problem, really.â
âI live across the hall, Iâm sure Iâll be fine.â He steps towards the doorway and has to pause again. âOr maybe Iâll stay. If youâre sure.â
âI wouldn't have offered if I wasnât.â
You walk him to the couch, letting him lean on you whenever he needs to along the way. He sits down, and you go to get him a pillow and blankets.
This is the longest amount of time youâve ever spent with Steve, and it pinches at your heart that heâs hurt during it. That he only needed help, not company. Even so, you fight a smile when you come back to the living room and find him laying down, already half asleep.
You spread the blankets over him. You take the pillow youâd brought him and guide him to lift his head. Youâre convinced heâs asleep, so you let yourself push the hair off his forehead just once.
When you turn to go to your room, he catches your hand in his.
âThank you, honey.â
Honey. Thatâs new.
-
Steve was already gone when you got up the next day. The only evidence of his visit the blankets heâd left folded up on your couch and the washcloth stained with his blood you used to clean him up.
Every time you pass his door you think about knocking and checking on him. About making sure heâs okay.
Youâve been worrying a lot more ever since the night you were attacked and saved by Spider-man, and that goes for more than just yourself. You worry about every person you see walking alone, about Steve being hurt again, about noises you might be imagining at night.
You probably look over your shoulder fifty times on your way home from the grocery store, your hands too full with your bags to be able to defend yourself if anything happens.
You breathe out when you make it in front of your door. Youâre safe, youâre fine, you have to tell yourself.
In your rush to get your keys from your pocket, you drop two of your bags. âShit.â Boxes and cans thump against the floor.
Steve hears everything, all of the time. He hears you curse and the sound of your stuff hitting the ground. He blames the fact that he heads to the door on boredom and nothing more.
âNeed some help?â His voice startles you.
âOh! Hey, Steve. Itâs fine, just dropped some stuff.â
You set the rest of your bags down, kneeling to pick up things that fell out of the ones you dropped. Embarrassed, you keep your head ducked.
Steve can sense it, the way your pulse jumps a little around him. He doesnât know whether to be glad or worried that he makes you nervous. Either way, he bends down beside you, helping you pick things up.
A bag of apples, a can of soup.
You both reach for the bags at the same time, fingers brushing before pulling away. Like there was a shock, a little spark where your skin met for the briefest second.
Before you can, Steve picks up the bags. âI got âem. You get the door.â
âI- Okay.â
You turn around and fumble with the lock, opening your door and walking inside. Steve follows you and puts your bags on your kitchen counter.
âGood?â He checks.
âYeah. Thank you, Steve.â
âNo problem, honey. Think of it as payback for you patching me up.â
Honey. Last time he said it, you chalked it up to his tired state. That excuse canât be used this time, and the term warms you.
âRight,â you look him over. His injuries are almost gone and itâs only been a couple of days. At least, you think it has. âYouâre feeling better?â
âYou did a good job,â he says.
âIâm glad.â
He nods, rocks back onto his heels once, âso, um, Iâll see you around.â
âYeah. Thanks again.â
He nods again and heads out, shutting your door behind him. With every conversation you have, Steve seems to warm up around you just a bit more. You donât want to hope too much, so you push your hair from your face and turn to put your groceries away.
That evening, when youâre getting ready to cook dinnerâa simple spaghetti and meatballsâyou realize youâve never seen Steve bring groceries into his apartment. Not once.
He must eat, you know that, but you wonder if he eats well, or enough. You cook for two without realizing until itâs finished. Thereâs extra of everything.
Itâs probably stupid, maybe weird, but you make a bowl and head out into the hall. You knock on Steveâs door, three little taps of your knuckles against the wood.
He hears the knocks right away, listens closer to hear your voice mumbling to yourself. He knows your voice well. Sometimes, he can hear you humming to yourself in your apartment. He doesnât try to listen in on you, but itâs like his ears subconsciously seek you out.
Steve opens the door and sees you in the same clothes as earlier, a shy smile on your face, and a bowl of spaghetti in your hands.
âHey. What are youâŠ?â
âI accidentally made too much food, and I thought maybe youâd want some?â
Actually, you made too much food for him, but he doesnât need to know that.
âOh,â his heart does a stupid jump in his chest. Youâre so kind and you donât even seem to be trying. If anything, you seem to be embarrassed about it, like itâs a fault. âThatâs really nice.â
âItâs just pasta. You want it?â
âSure,â he takes the bowl from you. âThank you.â
âYouâre welcome. And I promise itâs not, like, poisoned or anything.â You wince at yourself, âI donât know why I said that.â
âWell, Iâm glad itâs not poisoned.â
You laugh awkwardly. âOkay. Um, enjoy.â
He stands in his doorway while you go back inside, his smile spreading as soon as your back is turned to him. He heads inside after you do, kicking his door shut.
Heâs never smiled at a fucking bowl of pasta the way he does. Itâs getting harder and harder to make himself avoid you, avoid that light in his chest that seems to brighten when he sees you.
Heâs in trouble.
-
You bring him dinner often. At least twice a week, on days you donât work or when youâre pretty sure heâs home.
He thanks you every time with a close-mouthed smile and brings back your dishes the next day, perfectly clean.
It feels like, over time, with every dish you bring him, a chip falls away from the walls heâs built up around himself. You can tell thereâs a lot of them, and that theyâre tall, but you donât mind waiting for them to lower piece by piece. Heâs worth that wait, you think.
Youâre happy to cook for himâyouâre cooking for yourself already anywayâand youâve grown closer because of it. Something like friends, almost. The conversations seem to grow longer each time you see him.
Sometimes, on good days, he even invites you inside to eat with him.
You arenât very close, but right now, heâs the only friend you have (besides your coworkers, who really only hang out with you because they have to). Youâd think the way you get excited to see him would be sad if it werenât for how nice he is, for how he makes you feel.
He listens to you when you speak, his eyes donât stray, either. He always tells you he likes your cooking when you know it isnât all that great. He even hugged you before you left his place once, his arms around your waist, hands running over your skin delicately before he pulled away.
âThank you for dinner,â heâd said. âAgain.â
âI like making it for you. Makes me feel useful.â
âStill. Thank you, honey,â heâd surprised you with it, moving close before you could really process it.
âOh,â youâd stupidly let your arms hang limp for a second before wrapping them shyly around his neck. âI donât think my cooking is this good.â
âItâs not just your cooking,â heâd told you.
He pulled away after that, leaving your body warm and your smile difficult to suppress.
Youâre well aware you have a crush on him, but you donât want to let it ruin the beginnings of the friendship youâve built.
Steveâs not sure what the pull he feels towards you is, like one of his webs is tethered to you even though he canât see it. Itâs something his senses canât tell him, no matter how much he focuses on them.
He thinks youâre the sweetest person and you donât even try, all shy smiles and soft gestures. He likes how when you talk, he can really hear how you feel about something in your voice. He trusts you, despite not knowing you too well.
He also thinks youâre really pretty, but thatâs not important.
Steve had another rough night patrolling. Some guy decided to play Wolverineâheâd made gloves with blades and everythingâand scratched Steve pretty good on his upper arm. It hurts like a bitch, even though itâll heal quickly. And heâll have to sew up his suit.
He got the guy, which is something, at least.
Luckily, he actually remembered to unlock the window this time, so heâs able to sneak into his place with ease. He stripped out of his suit and took a shower before anything. Maybe not the smartest decision while actively bleeding, but he felt gross.
Afterwards, clad in plaid pajama pants and a plain cotton t-shirt, he searches his bathroom for his first-aid kit while keeping a towel pressed to his arm. A dark stain blooms on the fabric the longer he keeps it against his wound.
âYes,â he cheers to himself when he finds the small white box.
He sits on the tile floors, back against his sink cabinets, and the kit in his lap. He opens it with one hand, the other too busy trying to slow the bleeding. When he gets it open, heâs disappointed with what he finds.
âFuck,â he says. Thereâs barely anything left. A roll of gauze, a box of bandaids, and one tiny alcohol wipe. Thatâs it. He really needs to remember to refill this stuff.
He pushes himself to stand, winces when he has to use his injured arm.
Thereâs only one person close by that he knows for sure has a first-aid kit that has what he needs, because heâs seen it pretty recently. That person is you.
He hates that heâs dragging you into this again, that heâs gonna ask a favor of you that he really shouldnât. One he doesnât even think he deserves. He needs the help, though, so he walks to his door, into the hallway, and a few steps to your place across from his.
He knocks, his towel more red than its original color by now.
The sound doesnât exactly wake you up. Itâs late, and youâd been in bed, but youâd been having a hard time falling asleep. You were tossing and turning, staring at the ceiling.
You sit up, push your hair out of your face, and head to the door. You should, but you donât even look to see who it is before opening it, keeping your body behind the door and peeking your head around. You certainly werenât expecting this.
Steve stands in front of you, his hair damp and a mess, falling over his forehead. His face is pale and, when your eyes flicker down, you find that his arm is bleeding. A lot.
âHoly shit. What happened to you?â
He ignores your question. âCan you help me?â
You move away from the door. The cold air from the hallway combined with the way Steveâs eyes look down before quickly looking back at your face remind you of your attire. A sleep shirt and underwear.
âFuck! Sorry,â you go to shut the door but remember that heâs literally bleeding. âCome in, you know where the bathroom is. Iâll just- um. Let me put some pants on.â
Heâd laugh at the way you pretty much sprint into your room if he wasnât so focused on the pain of his arm. Heâd also be thinking a lot about the way your legs looked just then.
You meet him in the bathroom, legs now covered in a baggy pair of sweatpants. Steveâs sitting on the shut toilet just like he did the first time you helped him. You havenât touched your first-aid kit since then, finding it exactly where you left it then.
âSorry about that,â you tuck your hair behind your ears quickly before opening up the box, turning to him afterward. âCan I see?â
âYeah.â
You take the towel from Steveâs hand, slowly moving it away from his wound to see how bad it is. Steveâs hands twitch where they sit atop his thighs. Heâs holding himself back from touching you.
Three gashes break his skin. The outside of his arm, just below his shoulder.
âDo these need stitches?â You ask, the concern is clear in your voice, in how it shakes a bit. âMaybe you should go to the hospital-â
âNo. Please. No hospital.â
âI donât know how to do stitches, Steve. I donât know if I can help you.â
âI donât need stitches, I swear,â the look on your face makes him feel awful. The sadness in your eyes, the small frown you try to hide. âI ran out of bandages. Thatâs all I need.â
âAre you sure?â
He canât tell you that his skin will mend on its own, that heâll be fine in just a couple of days. âPositive.â
You nod and grab a different towel than the one heâd been using, pressing it against his arm to make sure the bleeding stops. He groans quietly when you do. âSorry,â you whisper.
âIâm alright.â
When youâre almost 100% sure that the bleeding is done, you pull the towel away. You hold it under the sink, wetting a part of it that didnât soak up his blood. You use it to clean away the dried blood on his arm, apologizing every time he sucks in a breath through his teeth, hissing at the pull on his cuts.
One of your hands holds his arm up, the other occupied with the towel. Youâre bent close, stood between his legs, your loose hair tickling his skin.
âSteve?â You whisper, still focused on his gashed arm.
âMm?â He hums, watching you help him with the most careful touch heâs ever felt.
âWhoâs hurting you?â
âItâs nothing.â He says it in a way that tells you it really isnât nothing. âYou donât need to worry about me.â
Maybe you donât need to worry about him, but you do. You worry constantly. Anytime thereâs a bandaid or scrape on his skin you wonder if itâs the same people that gave him that black eye and split lip weeks ago.
You worry because heâs so good. Heâs a soft person under the invisible armor he protects himself with and he doesnât deserve to be hurt. His skin is too delicate for it, his face too pretty.
You pull away and grab the roll of bandages you have in your kit. When you look at him again, his eyes are set on you, scanning your face.
âPlease donât worry about me,â his voice is quiet, and you hate the way it breaks on the first word.
He hates it, too.
âIâll try my best,â you force a small smile at him, trying to lighten things as much as you can given the situation. You look back at his arm, wrapping it slowly. âIs that good?â
He looks at his arm, his wounds now covered with white wrappings. He looks back at you, âthank you, honey.â
âItâs not too tight?â
He shakes his head, standing when you step back to give him the space. You stand toe-to-toe, his head bent down to look at you, yours titled up.
âItâs perfect.â
Your breaths mingle in the air between you, growing thicker. Before you let yourself hope for something you shouldnât, you move to the counter and grab the rest of the bandages you have.
âHere,â you hold them out to him, âfor when you need to switch it.â
âYou wonât need it?â He asks instead of telling you that by the time it needs switching, it won't be an open wound anymore.
âThe most I use from that kit is the regular bandaids. Iâll survive without it.â
He takes the bandages from you, his hand brushing yours.
âIâm sorry for showing up the way I did.â
âIâd rather that than have you bleeding out in your apartment,â your eyes flick over to the bloody towels on your floor, your heart pinching in your chest. âIf you need to talk to someone, or anything, Iâm here.â
He leans closer, pushes a gentle peck into your cheek, and speaks with his lips still brushing your skin. âI donât deserve your sweetness.â
He drops his head into your shoulder, just for a second, before moving away from you.
âWha-â
âBye, honey. Thank you,â he says, walking out of your bathroom.
You stand there, a hand lifting to press against your cheek in the spot his lips did. You pull it away and look at your fingertips, like youâd been expecting to see a physical residue of the kiss. Flecks of glitter, or the soft pink of the sky at sunrise.
You just see your skin, painfully normal.
-
After thinking and thinking and thinking, you determine that maybe Steve likes you more than you thought he did.
The way he calls you âhoneyâ in that voice of his, the softness of his eyes that he canât hide no matter how cold he tries to keep his exterior, the way he kissed your cheek and let his lips linger when he spoke.
All of those things make you hope that maybe he likes you at least a little bit in the way that you like him, but if not, at the very least, he likes you more than you thought.
You think he tries to hold himself back from getting close to you at all, and you really donât know why. All you know is that his shoulders were slightly slumped when he forced himself to leave after you'd bandaged his arm, after he told you he doesnât deserve you.
Thereâs something in his life that makes him think that way and as much as you wanna know what it is, you hope that the best you can do is prove him wrong.
Thatâs one of the reasons youâre cooking dinner for two once again tonight. You also feel like, since this is sort of what brought you closer, the dinners are a tradition for you and Steve. Something completely yours.
Itâs nice to have something like that with another person. You knew you were lonely, but you never noticed how much until you started talking to him more. With each meeting, the string between you both shortens.
Youâve never cooked this meal before. Youâre extra attentive with it, tasting it to make sure itâs right, keeping your eyes on things closely to avoid burning it at all.
When everythingâs done, Steveâs meal packed up nicely and your ponytail now a loose mess, you head to the bathroom to look at yourself in the mirror. The most you do is fix your hair before feeling silly for caring so much about your appearance.
Heâs seen you tired-eyed and pantless. This is better than that, at least.
You havenât brought Steve a meal since you patched him up and he thanked you with a kiss on the cheek and possibly, maybe, loaded words. Youâve seen him, yes, but this is different than a two minute conversation in a hallway or the mailroom.
Itâs your way of checking on him.
Your door shuts with a click behind you, his meal in your hand as you step into the hall. You knock on Steveâs door in quick, small taps. Youâre not sure why youâre nervous to be doing it this time.
The doorknob twists and youâre met with Steveâs smiling face. Like actually, fully smiling. You donât think youâve ever seen that from him before. Not like this. Itâs like a beaming ray of sunshine, warm and beautiful.
Youâd like to be the one to make him smile like that.
âHi, honey,â he says. Itâs then you notice his cheeks are slightly flushed, little pink blooms on his skin.
âHey. I made you dinner again,â you hold the container up awkwardly to show him.
âYou donât have to keep making me dinner.â
âI like doing it.â
He nods. Steve knows that you do it as an excuse to see him, and if he were braver, or less concerned about involving you in his impossible life, heâd tell you that you donât need to have food to knock on his door.
Heâd tell you that you could knock whenever you wanted, that heâd happily open the door for you.
âSteve!â A voiceâa female voiceâcalls from inside the apartment. âWhoâs at the door?â
Fuck. Okay, he has a girlfriend. You probably interrupted something, you think, looking at his flushed cheeks, thinking about the smile he wore that most definitely was not for you.
Youâre embarrassed for even thinking that he could like you, embarrassed for having read everything wrong, for hoping too much.
âOh. You have company. Iâll just-â you pivot on your heel to leave and realize youâre still holding his dinner. You turn back around and hand it to him, awkwardly turning towards your door again and heading inside.
Steve stares at your door for a couple of seconds before going back inside. He sets his food on the counter and sits back on the couch.
âSo, who was that?â Robin asks.
Robin, his best friend and the only person in the world who knows pretty much everything about him. Spider-man and all.
âMy neighbor. She was bringing me dinner.â
âIt was her? And you didnât let me say hi!â
Yeah, Robin knows all about you. She knows that you make Steve dinner, that youâve taken care of him without digging too deep for answers, that Steve thinks youâre the âprettiest girl ever.â His words.
âShe left pretty fast after you yelled.â
âOh no.â
âWhat?â
âNooo. I scared her off!â Steve is clearly very confused, so Robin huffs and continues, âshe heard a girlâs voice in your apartment.â
âAnd?â
âGod, youâre such a boy sometimes, itâs insane. She thought I was your girlfriend!â
âWhy would that scare her off?â
âI know you donât get out much, dingus, but seriously?â She literally facepalms. âShe likes you! Why else would she be making you dinner and shit? She likes you and thinks youâre dating someone.â
âOh. Oh. No, she doesnât like me. Not like that.â
âYouâre an actual dingus.â
Steve doesnât want to think about that possibility because itâll make it much, much harder to keep you at arms length. Though, even now, that arm is mostly bent, losing resistance.
âSo what if she does like me? I canât do anything with her.â
âWhy not.â
âBecause Iâm Spider-â
âSpider-man, yes, I know. Who cares? You can't live your whole life ignoring every single romantic feeling you have because of that.â
âI donât wanna drag her into this.â
âDid you ever consider that maybe she would want to be dragged into this?â
âI guess not.â
He goes quiet after that, and Robin, knowing him so well, drops the subject.
-
Steve thinks about what Robin said even after she leaves.
Itâs hard for him to believe that youâd like him enough to worry that Robin was his girlfriend. You, a dream girl, liking him, with his unexplained injuries and past grumpiness towards you. There was no way.
But, on the slightest chance that it did matter to you, Steve decided he wanted to explain.
His crush on you isnât something he should explore, isnât something he wants to let grow because, despite what Robin says, his life is dangerous and you already worry about him enough without knowing that.
Still, the thought of you being upset because you think he isnât single is enough to make him head across the hall.
While Steve wondered what heâd say, you stewed in your embarrassment. Youâd sat on your couch in your sweats and tried to forget the girl's voice or the smile on Steveâs face. You were unsuccessful.
The knocks on your door have become a familiar soundâthereâs only one person who actually comes to your apartment.
You walk over and muster up a smile that you hope looks genuine, âSteve, hey.â
He scratches the back of his neck and looks at you, âcan I come in?â
âOh, yeah. Sure.â
You move aside as he walks in, shutting the door behind him. The apartment feels smaller with him in it, you think. His presence takes up space for you, it draws your focus.
âThanks again for dinner,â he says.
âYouâre welcome-â
âThat wasnât my girlfriend, by the way. The voice you heard,â he cuts you off because he worries that if he doesnât say it now, he never will. âI mean, sheâs my friend, and a girl, but weâre not dating. Her nameâs Robin, sheâs my best friend, thatâs it. Promise.â
Youâre not sure whether to be even more embarrassed at how obvious you were with your concern, or to be relieved that heâs not taken like you thought. You settle for a bit of both.
âYou donât have to- I know I was weird earlier but you donât have to explain yourself to me,â you tell him, tugging at the ends of your sleeves with your fingers.
âI wanted to make sure you knew.â
There could be a lot of weight in that sentence, if you let yourself look hard enough.
Rather than reply you confess, âyou know, I used to think you hated me. Or, didnât like me. Before we talked and stuff.â
Steveâs standing really close to you. Has he always been this close? You can smell his soap and feel the light puffs of air leaving his lips. Itâs almost dizzyingâlike, if someone poked your shoulder, you might fall over.
You notice a lot about him from this close, especially when thereâs no blood on his face. He has the lightest dusting of freckles over his nose, his eyelashes are dark, framing his brown eyes.
Steve reaches out with a hand to link his fingers with yours, loosely and slowly, like he doesnât want to startle you. They fit together easily. His other hand brushes his knuckles against your cheek before cupping it gently in his palm.
His touch is so gentle, so much less guarded than his usual actions. You blink up at him and without even thinking, you push yourself into his touch, just a little.
âI never hated you,â he says. A murmur between your mouths.
âOh,â is all you can say.
Steveâs strong, inhumanely so, but he isnât strong enough to stop himself from kissing you.
The first brush of his lips on yours is so light that you think you might be dreaming. When you donât pull away, he kisses you more firmly, his lips a little bit chapped but still soft as they land on yours.
You havenât kissed a lot of people but youâve never felt one like this. One that youâve been dancing around for longer than you ever realized.
Steveâs hand squeezes yours, his thumb running back and forth against your cheek, his mouth moving with yours like a dance. He probably shouldnât have let himself kiss you, because thereâs no way he can fight whatever this is after feeling your lips on his.
He pecks you once, and twice, before pulling away. If he kept kissing you, the single thread left holding him back from you wouldâve snapped. A clean break.
He leans his forehead against yours, and whispers so quietly you wouldâve missed it had he not been so close to you. You could almost feel the words being spoken, lips still a breath apart.
âNever hated you.â
/á (àčâžàč)á\
if you enjoyed, please reblog and/or let me know what you thought!!! it would mean a whole bunch <3
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MY GODDDDDD ITALIAN EDDIE IS HEREEEEEEKKSKDJXJCKXKGKIDKFFKKF
IâM SO HAPPY TO SEE HIM AND I LOVE THE TWIST YOU ADDED BECAUSE IT FITS HIM SO WELL!!!
I kinda knew Steve never ended up marrying Nancy and that there mustâve been SOMETHING up because sure he can be a little hypocritical at times but heâs not that badđđ€Ł Iâm so freaking obsessed with this AUdkskdkxmjdmckdkckxkdkxk I AM LOVING THE WAY YOUâRE INCORPORATING LITTLE NON SUPERNATURAL CANON PARTS OF THE STORY HERE!!! And the way things are slooooooowly changing but theyâre changing like thereâs a shift ahhdjsjfkskfkskxkzkkxkckf I CANâT THIS IS TOO FUCKINH GOOD!
Also that smutđ« đ« đ«
Lovvvvvvvvvved this!â€ïžâ€ïž
don't call me 'baby'
PART 6Â |Â SERIES
Pairing:Â Steve Harrington/fem!reader
Warnings:Â Sugardaddy!Steve, SMUT (18+), angst, discussions of past trauma, daddy kink, ddlg dynamics, dom/sub dynamics, slight breeding kink, dirty talk, semi-public sex, exhibitionism, jealous!Steve, overstimulation, swearing, sexual harassment/men being gross, alcohol use, smoking, age gap, no use of y/n
Wordcount:Â 9.2k
A sugar daddy modern AU, a whirlwind summer romance in Italy, and two people from completely different walks of life, somehow finding each other in one of the most beautiful cities in the world. But, what will happen when summer ends?
PART 6 | honey, hell is when I fight with you
You left Steveâs apartment and made your way home in a daze. After studying the save the date and reading it approximately a hundred times, you shoved it back into the drawer and shut it. You moved quickly after that, your only thought being that you needed to get out of this apartment before Steve got back. You gathered your discarded dress off of the floor, only realizing halfway to the door that you were only wearing a robe. You paused, then scoffed inwardly - Steve probably wouldnât notice if a few things were missing from his closet, and even if he did, you couldnât find it in yourself to care. Thatâs how you found yourself pulling a t-shirt and pair of sweatpants out of his dresser, nearly in shock that he even owned anything like that. You pulled them on quickly, hardly caring that they didnât fit right, pointedly ignoring the fact that the clothes smelled like him - his aftershave, a hint of smoke, and something so distinctly Steve.
You tore out of the elevator and stumbled onto the street, blinking in the bright morning light. You stalked up and down the streets for a while, realizing that you really didnât know your way around this side of the city - Steveâs chauffeur had always driven you to and from here, and you had never had much of a reason to come here previously. After what felt like ages, you found a bus stop, luckily with a line that would take you back home. You didnât remember much of the journey home after that - it was all in a blur, the blood rushing through your head making your ears roar, your hands shaking and breathing heavily.Â
A million thoughts ran through your mind, forehead pressed against the glass as the city flew past. The image of Steve and Nancy was imprinted in your mind, the text of the invite practically memorized. You felt your eyes burn, but did everything within your power to not let any tears fall. The initial shock was already wearing off, and you found yourself fluctuating through a range of feelings: Devastation. Regret. Sadness. Anger. As the moments ticked by, anger seemed to be winning.Â
You felt like an idiot, an absolute fool for not considering this as a possibility. Steve had felt too good to be true, and itâs because he was. It explained so much, really - why he rarely talked about home, evaded questions about his personal life, why he traveled so much for work⊠were those trips to other cities and countries just back to the United States, a quick rendezvous to see his wife? You felt stupid, small, and used. And that was why, with each passing moment, you became angry.Â
Steve is lucky that you werenât still at the apartment when he came home. If you were, thereâs a good chance you wouldâve killed him. How could things have gone wrong so quickly? Twelve hours ago, you were writhing beneath him, Steve whispering sweet nothings into your ears as he touched you everywhere. Just two hours ago, you had woken up in his bed, waiting for him to come back with breakfast, blissfully unaware. But now⊠now, you just wanted to scream, to wish you had never met him. Youâd rather be run down and broke if it meant you never had to feel like this.
You were still working through these thoughts as you made the walk from the bus stop to your apartment, moving on autopilot as you went up the stairs and opened the door, fumbling with the keys thanks to your blurring vision and shaking hands. You made enough of a ruckus that Robin was glancing over from where she was seated on the couch, grinning.
âHey! I was about to send a search party, but Iâm guessing that the night went pretty great -â
It was a miracle, really, that you had held yourself together as long as you did. But, the moment the door had clicked shut behind you, and you saw Robinâs beaming face, you lost all semblance of composure that you had been holding onto. You felt the tears start to fall, fast and hot, and you let out a choked sob.
Robin was up off the couch and to you in seconds. It was like a dam had opened, the tears flowing, your body convulsing as you fell into her arms.
âOh, babe,â she whispered, âwhat did he do?â
You just pulled her tighter, burying your face into her shoulder as the wave of devastation finally, truly set in. You were an absolute mess, and it was all Steve Harringtonâs fault. You decided then and there that you would always hate him for it.
******
The first thing he did was text you. When you heard the telltale ding from your phone, you instinctively knew it was him. Your nose was runny, your eyes red and puffy as tear stains dried on your cheeks, warm and sticky. Robin has unearthed some chocolate from the cupboard, scrolling through Netflix for something comforting to watch. You glanced down at your phone, your stomach turning at the sight of his name on the screen:
Hey! Is everything okay? I thought youâd still be here. If you had somewhere to be though, I understand - errands this morning took longer than I thought. I hope you had fun last night.
You rolled your eyes, scoffing as you read it. This, of course, was followed immediately by another round of tears, albeit more quiet and soft. You couldnât help it - despite feeling cried-out, your vision blurred as you felt the tears start to fall again. It felt ridiculous, to let him make you cry like this. You should be furious, over this already, but it still just made you sad, as stupidly simple as that sounded.Â
You felt Robinâs eyes on you, and you just turned your phone for her to look. She rolled her eyes.
âOh, fuck him - if I ever see him out in the wild -â
âIâm just - Iâm not going to respond,â you said, voice a bit thick and hoarse still.Â
âI mean, if I were you -â
âBut youâre not,â you snapped. âAnd I just donât want to talk to him, okay?â
Robin went quiet, staring down at her hands.
âYeah - okay, no problem -â she said, voice quiet. You felt a surge of guilt run through you.
âRobin - hey, Iâm sorry. Itâs not you, Iâm just -â you sighed, pinching your temples.
âI know,â Robin said softly. âItâs okay - I get it. I mean, fuck him, right?â
You feigned a thin smile, wiping your eyes.
âYeah,â you whispered. âFuck him.â
Robin leaned back, opening up her arms. You took the invitation and laid down on your side, putting your head in her lap and facing the TV.
âWhatâre we watching?â you asked quietly.
âWhatever you want, babe,â she replied, running her fingers gently across your scalp.
And, for a while, you pushed Steve from your mind, fell into a state of acceptance, and let yourself appreciate having someone like her in your life, when seemingly everyone else had let you down.
*****
Steve texted you four more times that day, the first coming a few hours later. The longer you went without responding, though, the quicker he sent a follow-up, each message growing increasingly frantic:
Is everything alright?
Are you free to talk right now? I just want to make sure youâre okay.
This is going to sound stupid, but Iâm freaking out a little - can you at least let me know youâre alive? And that you made it home okay?
Do I need to send out a search party? Because I will, if I have to.
Then, around 4pm, the phone calls started. The first time your phone buzzed, you ignored it and let it go to voicemail. For a while, you opted to just leave your phone in your bedroom and stay in the living room with Robin, ordering takeout and watching terrible reality television. It almost took your mind off of things. Almost.
At some point, Robin broke out a bottle of wine that had been hiding in the back of the pantry. It was pretty cheap, which you probably wouldnât have noticed before. But lately, youâd only been drinking the good stuff. Still, it got you a little tipsy, made you relax just a bit, and you soon found yourself laughing like a child with Robin over something so silly, you couldnât even recall what it was. Then, it was getting late, a little past midnight, and you remembered that Robin had work in the morning.Â
You probably would too, soon. Youâd likely have to go back to the coffee shop, and ask for your shifts back. That would be easy - the gig at Enoteca might be harder to get back. You had enough money banked from Steveâs allowance that youâd be fine at least for a while. But, before the semester started back up, you had to begrudgingly accept that youâd have to get back to your shitty jobs again. But, that was a problem to deal with tomorrow. For now, you put on a brave face, and bid goodnight to Robin.
âYou sure youâll be okay?â she asked from the bathroom doorway.
âYeah,â you whispered. âNot right now. But⊠Iâm dealing with it. Donât worry too much about me, okay?â
You knew sheâd probably let you sleep in her bed with her tonight, if you asked. Youâd do the same for her. But it felt childish, and you had a feeling you already werenât going to sleep well tonight. So Robin frowned, but nodded, murmuring, âYeah, alright.â
You soon found yourself in your bedroom, alone. The moment the door shut behind you, you let out a deep, shuddering breath. For the first time since arriving home that day, you were actually alone.Â
You moved slowly, pulling on your pajamas and sliding under your covers. You sagged with relief, the weight of the day fully sinking in. You were exhausted, so deeply that it seeped into your bones. For a moment, you wondered if you would sink deep enough into the mattress that youâd fall right through, and never come back up.
You were letting your eyes flutter shut when your phone buzzed on your nightstand. You groaned, rolling over and squinting at the brightness of the bluelight. Steveâs contact name was on your screen - you suddenly found yourself thankful that you didnât actually have any pictures of him, because the thought of seeing his contact photo on your screen right now was too much to handle.
You had been letting it go to voicemail all day. But, this time, you pressed DECLINE.
The screen goes dim. You click it on, and see a notification:
Steve Harrington
Missed Call (8)
You shook your head, laughing sardonically. You shouldâve been spiteful, and left that wedding invite out on the bed for him to find, so he knew exactly why you didn't want to speak to him.
Despite yourself, you pictured it again in your mind. The photo of Steve and that woman, smiling and picture-perfect against the sunset. The giant diamond on her finger, the way his arms were wrapped around her. And, her name: Nancy Wheeler.
You knew that you shouldnât do it. But, you were so morbidly curious. So, despite better judgment, you found yourself opening up Instagram, and typing in her name.
You scrolled through a few, until you finally spotted a profile called @nancewheeler with an icon that you were 98% sure was her. You tapped on it, only to find it to be private, much to your disappointment. Although, maybe it was for the best - what were you expecting to find? Photos from her wedding? Posts with Steve, wishing him a happy birthday, going on trips, spending holidays together? That would only be more painful.
She had more than a respectable amount of followers for an average person, and she looks just as beautiful in her tiny profile photo as she did on the card. The profile reads:
emerson 14â. columbia â16. permanently peckish.
IN â NY
You bit your lip. Even with these small scraps of information, she seemed smart, cool, and more put-together than youâve ever been.
Next, you went to Facebook - you found her profile, but it looked like it hadnât been active for several years. The last public update was in 2018 - it was photos from a Christmas party. And, sickeningly, Steve is in the pictures, laughing as sheâs curled into his side, both donning Christmas sweaters and paper crowns.
Steve looked younger, and maybe the happiest youâve ever seen him. You closed it quickly, feeling stupid for the way your eyes burned when thinking about it. Next, you Googled her name - and, a lot came up. She was a writer for the New York Times. Sheâs published some hard-hitting stuff - exclusive profiles, breaking news coverage, in-depth exposes ranging from political cover-ups to tainted city water supplies to sexual harassment in Hollywood. You hit the paywall after a few articles, but you scrolled through the headlines. She was the real thing. Of course she was. How could Steve not fall in love with her?
You closed the browser and shut off your phone, throwing your covers over your head and burying your face in the pillow. You willed sleep to overtake you, but instead, your phone buzzed again. You huffed, twisting around and snatching it off of th nightstand. You declined the call again, put the phone on Do Not Disturb, and rolled back over.
This time, though, you let the tears fall. You had been holding them back ever since your breakdown with Robin earlier. But you werenât done yet, and you had known it - but now, you sobbed into your pillow. You werenât sure when sleep came and put you out of your misery, but your last thoughts before drifting off were of Steve, and how you hated him, but not as much as you wanted to.
*****
TWO DAYS LATER
âSeriously, itâs fine,â you assured Robin. âI can take care of myself, you know.â
âI know! Itâs just⊠I feel shitty for going on a date while youâre⊠well, you know.â
You rolled your eyes.
âJust because Iâm going through a tough time doesnât mean that you shouldnât have fun.â
Robin crosses her arms.
âIâm just saying -â
âRobin! This is what, your fifth date with Vickie? Sixth? You like her - I see the way you talk about her. Just go - seriously, Iâm just going to be here, watching TV and eating leftovers. Go have fun on my behalf, yeah?â
Robin pondered it for a moment, then nodded.
âYeah, okay - but, if you need anything -â
âJust go, will you?â you said, smiling. âI think I can be alone for a few hours, you know. Or⊠maybe more than a few, if it goes well -â
âUgh! Gross!â Robin cried, grimacing.
âWhatâs gross about me wanting my best friend to get laid? If you donât come home, Iâll just assume that youâre hav-â
âOkay, you win! Iâm leaving, maybe forever!â
âBring an umbrella!â you shouted.
You laughed, settling into the couch and turning your attention back to the television as you heard the door click behind her. The apartment was quiet - you hadnât really had it to yourself in a while, and as comforting as Robinâs presence was, you were glad to be alone for a bit. And, although it was bittersweet, you couldnât help but feel giddy that things seemed to be going well with Vickie - after hearing Robin rave about that cute girl in my art history class for a whole semester, you had told her enough was enough, and she should buck up and ask her out. Occasionally, you were capable of giving out good advice, it turns out.
A storm was raging outside, the rain pounding against the glass as the wind whistled. It was forecasted to pour all night, much-needed relief after an unusually hot and dry past few weeks. To you, that meant a night in sweatpants, getting under the covers early, and falling asleep to the sound of the rainfall. To you, that sounded just fine.
Even though it had only been a few days, you found yourself thinking of Steve less than you thought you would. Granted, that wasnât much. But, it was something.
To say you got your heart broken wouldâve been dramatic. He wasnât your boyfriend - outside of bed, there was nothing affectionate between you two. Your relationship had been an arrangement, a transaction, and nothing more. No, instead, you just felt used - he knew exactly what he was doing. And, you had been stupid enough to fall for it. When you thought of him, you just felt dread, a stroke of anger, and ultimately settled on defeat. He still called, and occasionally texted - asking what was wrong, wondering if he did something, demanding an explanation. He had left voicemails, too - you hadnât brought yourself to listen to them. Hearing his voice was too tangible, too real. Besides, there probably wasnât much he could possibly have to say to you. You had considered blocking his number several times - Robin had practically demanded it. But, every time you tried, your finger hovered over the button, and you just couldnât bring yourself to.
It was a little past 8pm when you heard a knock on your door. You were munching on popcorn half-watching a Netflix rom-com while mindlessly scrolling on your phone. You jumped, glancing over the couch towards the door - was it Robin? It must be, if it wasnât somebody ringing the buzzer from downstairs. Maybe she was locked out. That would be really early for her to be back, though - unless somehow, something had gone terribly wrong on her date. The thought of that alone was enough to form a knot in your stomach. You leapt up from the couch, practically running to the door. You were so frantic, so worried, that it hadnât even occurred to you to check through the peephole and see who it was.
You braced yourself as you unlocked and opened the door.
âWhy are you already -â
Then, you froze. Because, standing there in the doorway, dripping with rainwater and shivering, was Steve Harrington.
His eyes widened when he saw you, his chest heaving - he mustâve run up the four flights of stairs. After a few seconds, once the initial shock wore off, you straightened up, moving to immediately slam the door in his face.
âWait, hold on-â he started, catching the door in his hand. You considered trying to slam it even harder, hopefully to catch his fingers in the process, but you decide to relent.Â
âPlease,â he said, voice a bit softer. âI - give me five minutes to explain, yeah? If you donât like what I have to say, Iâll walk out of here, and never come back. I promise you.â
You held his stare, pointedly trying to ignore his pleading eyes, and the way it made something in your chest crumble. Fuck.
âGoddammit,â you muttered under your breath. You sighed, taking a step back and opening the door, only just wide enough for him to shoulder his way in. You took a few steps back, crossing your arms and popping your hip. He was smart enough to keep his distance, standing on the other side of the room.Â
It was only now that it occurred to you that he had never been in your apartment. You had always made him wait downstairs, embarrassed by how small it probably would seem to him, how juvenile and messy the place looked. You also became acutely aware of your oversized threadbare t-shirt, your old sweatpants, the fact that he had never exactly seen you like this before. You felt the blood rush into your cheeks, the self-consciousness suddenly all-consuming.
No, you thought, Iâm not the one who should be ashamed here.
So, you straightened up, holding firm. This was your home - he wasnât much more than an intruder in it.
The way he was looking at you wasnât unlike how you imagine prey looking at a predator, unnervingly wary, frozen in place. After it became clear that you werenât going to be the one to initiate the conversation, he took a deep breath.
âOkay, so - I have a feeling why you disappeared on me.â
You raised an eyebrow.
âOh, do you now?â
Your words were curt, tone biting.Â
âYeah, well - okay, look - Iâve been really worried about you. I thought something had happened. Or, maybe I scared you off with something I said, or did⊠but, I thought it was crazy to come over here, even though I thought about it about a hundred times -â
âWell, yeah, showing up unannounced to the place where I live, in the pouring rain, in the middle of the night - that would be crazy, good thing you didnât -â
âYeah, I get it. But, the point is, I didnât know why you left, or what happened, until now. I was cleaning up around my place, and - all of my stuff kind of has its place, you know? And, I saw my spare phone charger plugged into the wall, and I thought that was weird, because I didnât remember putting it there⊠or pulling it out of its drawerâŠand thatâs when I knew. You saw - what you saw, it isnât what you think -â
âIsnât it?â you asked. âBecause to me, it looks like you had a wedding last September, Harrington. Let me guess - you had to come live abroad for what, six months, and couldnât go that long without getting laid? I mean, youâre just like the rest of them -â
âBaby, no -â
âDonât call me that!â you cried, not even realizing how close it was to a scream until it came out. You felt your eyes welling up, starting to sting, and you internally scolded yourself for letting him already get you like this.
âYou donât get to call me anything, Iâm not your anything -â
âIâm not married!â he finally said, screaming to be heard over you.
You stopped mid-sentence, pausing for a moment, then scoffed.
âDo you really expect me to believe that? I saw it - Nancy, is it? Is she back in the U.S., just completely oblivious?â
He winced visibly at her name, like it was something foul.
âI wouldnât know, considering I havenât spoken to her in a year!â
Itâs silent for a moment, both of you breathing heavily with frustration, too worked up. You opened your mouth to say something, but the words died on your tongue. He was still holding your gaze, unrelenting. There was something in the way he was looking at you, something saying please. You just held your ground, arms still crossed, mouth shut.
Steve took a moment, shutting his eyes and exhaling deeply, gathering himself.
âI - she called it off. Like, two months before the wedding. We - we had been having some issues. I ignored them, because I wanted to make it work. I really did. But⊠she didnât, I guess. So, we went our separate ways. I havenât seen her since she moved out of our - my, place. I swear to you - I didnât lie to you.â
You bit your lip, letting your eyes drift downwards to the floor to avoid his gaze as you considered what he was saying. He had a lot of reasons to lie - but, there wasnât much evidence suggesting that it wasnât true. You nodded slowly.
âThatâs not true,â you said.
âWhat?â
âThat you didnât lie. Thatâs not true.â
âIâm telling you -â
âNo,â you interrupted, snapping up to meet his eyes again. âIâm going to give you the benefit of the doubt for like, 5 minutes, and believe you. Believe that you arenât with her anymore, I mean. But - you still lied. Back at the coffee shop, when I asked why you didnât want a real relationship.â
His shoulders sagged a bit.
âWhat makes you say that?â
âYou said youâre too busy - married to your job, donât have time, all of that. And yeah, maybe thatâs partially true. But donât tell me that Nancy isnât part of that. She is, right?â
He stared at you for a moment, considering what you were implying carefully, and nodded slowly.
âYeah - kind of.â
âYou donât have to tell me everything that happened, but I need you -â
âNo, Iâll tell you,â he conceded. âCan I sit?â
You nodded in the direction of the couch, watching him as he slowly walked over and sunk down. You stayed standing, holding your ground. He sat there for a moment, and you could tell that he was trying his best to compose himself. After a deep breath, he started talking.
âNancy and I met in college, my junior year. We didnât go to the same school, but we were both living in Boston, ran in similar circles, all of that. Iâll be honest with you - I was crazy about her, from the second I met her. And, I donât know, it felt right, I guess? Or, maybe it didnât, and I just wanted to lock it down, hold onto her. She also came from a good family, my parents loved her, all of that. So, after she finished grad school, I was already working my way up in the company, so I proposed. Iâm sure a lot of people thought I was crazy - we were still pretty young, you know? I honestly was shocked that she said yes. I guess that was a sign, right?â
He was hardly looking at you as he told the story, his words careful and measured. His voice was quiet, solemn.Â
âSo, we were engaged for a while - things kept getting in the way. Or, maybe we were searching for reasons to delay it all, I donât know. Looking back, hereâs so much I didnât know. But, I was working a lot - long hours, late nights, traveling constantly. And Nancy was making her own name, always busy - sheâs a journalist, a really good one. So, we hardly saw one another. And when we did, it was like we were strangers. Or, even worse, we kept fighting about stupid shit. Like, who was supposed to wash the dishes, schedule mix-ups, the wedding guest list. I think we were just both stressed with work, and we were both starting to figure out that we had less in common than we thought. And then⊠one night, at a friendâs wedding, Nancy got drunk. Like, really drunk. And she didnât do that often, and I was honestly happy to see her letting loose. But then she had a little too much fun, started stumbling, feeling sick, and I tried to get her to leave. And, thatâs when she started being brutally honest about everything.â
His voice got thick for a second, and he paused for a moment to pull himself together. This was painful for him - really painful. The kind of pain that you canât make up.Â
âI wonât get into everything she said, but - I replay that conversation in my head, constantly. It brought a lot of things to light - we didnât love each other the same way, and we didnât want the same things for the future. She was totally blackout, of course. So the next day, when she was sober, I told her what happened, and asked if she meant it. She couldnât answer me. And you wanna know the most pathetic part? I still wanted to fight for us, to proceed with the wedding, figure it all out⊠but I guess it got her thinking. I came back from work a few days later, and she was gone. She packed up all of her stuff, left the ring, and a note. And that was it. I havenât seen her since. So yeah, youâre right - Iâm not looking for a relationship. Because I donât need anything like that to happen to me ever again. You wanted honesty? There, you have it.â
He leaned forward, propping his elbows on his knees, holding his head in his hands.Â
This was a version of Steve youâd never seen before. There was a lot about him that you still didnât know, sides you havenât seen, you knew that. But thisâŠ
There were now a few more things about Steve Harrington of which you were absolutely certain, adding to your ever-growing list. He was heartbroken. He was scared. A part of him, however big or small, was still yearning for Nancy, wistfully mourning what could have been. And, he was telling you the truth.
In theory, he couldâve been lying about the whole thing. He could have fabricated some detailed, believable story about his forlorn ex-fiancee, playing up the heartbreak, putting on the performance of a lifetime. But you just knew - from the way his voice had sounded, the way his body sagged and deflated, the way he was now staring at you to gauge your reaction: he was being honest with you. And, everything about your arrangement, the way he spoiled you, his desperation when you were in bed, his stony persona outside of it⊠all of the pieces were falling into place. And you had just spent the last two days in agony for nothing.
He wanted you to say something, you knew that. But, you didnât say a word. Instead, you kept his stare, slowly crossing the room until you were right in front of him. He never tore his gaze away from you, eyes following as you slowly sank to your knees, down to his level.Â
âSo, are you gonna say some-â
He didnât get a chance to finish, because you were kissing him, soft and slow. He stiffened, then relaxed, easing into the kiss. He brought his hands to your face, grasping you gently as he pulled you close.Â
âYou donât have to -â
âNo,â you said firmly, cutting him off. âStop talking. Thereâs only one thing I want to do right now.â
âWhat?â he breathed.
âMake you forget all about her.â
His eyes widened, and you were on him again, situating yourself in his lap. You started kissing him again, but more hurriedly, hungrily. He responded, melting back into the couch as you straddled him, wrapping your arms around his neck. He groaned against your lips, his tongue finding its way into your mouth. You let him, smiling at the way the telltale bulge was already growing in his jeans, the way he moaned when you brushed over it.
It had only been a few days, and you realized then how much you had missed him, as silly as it sounded. But the smell of his cologne, the taste of him, the sounds he was making under you, everything that was Steve - it was addicting.
So, the pair of you found your way back to your bedroom, gnashing teeth and tongues, whimpers and groans into each otherâs skin, and hardly any actual talking happened after that.
*******
That night, you did your best to keep your promise to make Steve forget all about Nancy. With the way he was screaming your name by the end of it, you considered it a success.
You kissed him all over, pressing your lips and dragging your tongue over him until he was practically putty, begging you to touch him. And you did, wrapping your mouth around where he wanted you most. And, you had your fun, making up for your pent up frustration - you edged him, teasing and pulling him right to the peak until he was begging for release, practically crying. He was a mess, babbling a nonsensical cacophony of sweet praises, filthy promises, calling you his good girl and baby. When you finally lowered yourself onto him, you made him look at you as you rode him. You experimented with how far you could push it, forcing his fingers to your clit as you did.Â
Oh, daddy, you had moaned, looking down at him smugly. Does this feel good? Do you like when your good girl rides you? I bet you do. Câmon, daddy - make your girl cum, yeah? I need to cum on your cock, sir. Cum inside me, you know you want to -
And he did, just like that, a desperate mess beneath you. You were so worked up, the rollercoaster of the last few days coming to a head, that you followed moments later, pulling him close as you came down from your highs together, chests heaving.
Afterwards, he had kissed apologies into your skin, whispering all the ways he was going to make it up to you. You just quieted his worries, whispering, âIs there anything else I need to know?â
âNo,â he replied softly.
âOkay. Then the rest we can handle.â
And that was that. You didnât even say anything when he fell asleep, right there in your bed. Instead, you buried yourself into his side, and had a peaceful sleep for the first time since the night of the gala.
Things went back to normal after that. Or, something like it. There was of course an explanation needed for Robin - she had nearly thrown a plate at Steve when she saw him in the kitchen the next morning. It took some talking down, and a series of death glares shot in his direction, but when you got her alone, she eventually decided to believe you, allowing Steve Harrington to live to see another day. It was easy enough, considering that the conversation quickly pivoted to the fact that Robin had spent the night at Vickieâs. She just blushed, punched you in the arm, and grumbled something about minding your business as she stalked back to the kitchen.
No, things werenât back to normal. Yes, you and Steve resumed your arrangement, going out to nice dinners, having (incredible) sex after, and continuing your payments. He even gave you back the earrings you had purposely left back at his place the morning you had stormed out, despite your insistence that they were far too opulent. But, he was persistent, and they now sat on your nightstand, glimmering even in the dimmest light.
But, there was something new now. It was unspoken, barely tangible. For all you knew, the feeling was one-sided. But, Steve had shared this personal, vulnerable side of himself with you. You knew far more about him than you ever had before, and more often than not, you couldnât help but notice the air of melancholy that followed him at all times, subtle yet unshakeable. And, you had shown him more of yourself than you had intended, too. You could be stubborn, and spiteful, and would much rather throw up walls and run than face the possibility of putting yourself in a position to be abandoned. Your immediate jump to a conclusion about Steveâs marriage, and your reaction after, was enough to prove that. He had seen this ugly, not-so-reasonable side of you. But he had come back anyway, and he continued to take care of you in every sense that he had been before.
A few weeks later, he texted you in the morning like he often did:
Hey there - are you free tonight at 7?
You found yourself smiling at the message, only to immediately catch it and stop. You responded:
yep - ill be ready for you
He responded almost immediately:
Perfect. Iâll see you then - maybe wear the necklace I gave you, that first one? I like seeing you in it.
You felt your face heat, the novelty of him telling you what he liked to see you wear still not completely worn off. You felt yourself smirking as you sent back:
anything for you daddy
You saw him start typing. Then stop. Then start again.
Christ - Iâm in a meeting. Youâre going to pay for that later.
Still feeling bold, you sent one last message:
i really hope so đ
That was how you found yourself out to dinner at yet another 5-star restaurant, sipping wine and perusing the menu. You were debating with Steve whether to get appetizers or not when you heard a familiar voice calling your name. You looked up, eyes shooting towards the direction it came from, and immediately smiling when you spotted him.
âEddie?â
And there he was: Eddie Munson, your dear friend. He had his long curls tied up into a loose bun, his shirt more unbuttoned than buttoned, a camera slung over his shoulder. His tattoos peaked through the rolled-up sleeves and on his collarbone, and you could swear heâd gotten more since the last time you saw him. You practically jumped up out of your seat, giddy as he came right up to the table. You threw your arms around him, pulling him into a warm embrace without a second thought.
âCiao, bella,â he said endearingly, laughing in your ear. He pulled back, looking you up and down as he continued in Italian, âLook at you! Did you raid a modelâs closet, or something?â
You giggled, rolling your eyes.
âOh, stop - donât act like youâve never seen me look nice!â
âYou always look nice, sweetheart. Itâs been so long!â
âI know!â you said excitedly. âI mean, itâs been crazy so far this summer. I -â
You stopped yourself, then just shrugged.
âItâs been busy, thatâs all.â
It was then that you regained awareness of Steve, who stared up at both of you from where he still sat at the table. His brow was furrowed in confusion, and you realized he probably barely caught a word of what you and Eddie had been saying. You caught his eye, and smiled.
âEddie, this is my - well, uh⊠this is Steve,â you said in English, gesturing between the two men.
âSteve,â Eddie said warmly, extending his hand. Steve took it, shaking his hand firmly. Taking your queue, he continued in English, âPleasure to meet you. Youâre lucky to know this lady right here, you know.â
You felt yourself blushing, and shook your head vigorously.
âEddie -â
âIâm just being honest, bella!â
Steve finally spoke up, taking a second to clear his throat.
âI, uh - how do you two know each other?â
âOh, well, we both are at the university together,â you explained. âEddie was actually a teaching assistant for an art history class I had to take. It wasnât exactly my thing, but he really is the reason I passed.â
âOh, câmon, you excelled in that class. Youâre smart -â Eddie started.
âSo⊠you guys are⊠friends?â Steve asked tentatively.
âYes, the dearest of friends,â Eddie answered. âWe just donât get a chance to see each other too much lately, since I finished school.â
âWhatâre you doing here, anyways?â you asked.
âOh - the restaurant hired me to take some photos for their website. Pictures of plates of food, the space, ambience, that sort of thing. Not exactly my passion project, but it pays the bills, right?â
âEddieâs a photographer,â you explained to Steve, turning to glance back at him. âAnd, well, a musician - his band is great. But, heâs an amazing photographer, a real professional -Â you should see his stuff!â
âOh, yeah,â Steve said quietly.
âBut, darling,â Eddie started, âyou really should model for me again. I swear, these gigs are killing me - I want to shoot something beautiful again!â
You felt the heat creep up into your face even more, and just shook your head.
âOh, stop it -â
âModel?â Steve asked, sitting up a little straighter.
âYes!â Eddie said enthusiastically. âOur girl here, sheâs a marvel in front of the camera - I used her for so many projects in school, even shot her for my final portfolio. Sheâs like my - ah, whatâs the English word⊠muse! Yes, my muse.â
âIs that so?â Steve asked slowly.Â
âHeâs exaggerating, I just posed for a few projects he was in a pinch for -â you started.
âAnd I need to feel passionate like that again. You should come by the studio, seriously, Iâd feel alive again -â
âTotally!â you exclaimed. âText me the address, let me know when youâre working. Iâd love to come by!â
âBeautiful,â he said, grinning in the way Eddie always does. âWell, Iâll leave you back to your meal, but it was lovely to see you.â
âSame,â you said, beaming. He leaned forward, leaving a kiss on each cheek, and he set off back behind the bar, setting his camera on a tripod as he returned to work.
You settled back in your seat, smiling to yourself. Steve was just staring at you, his face neutral.
âSo, you and him⊠youâre close?â
You shrugged, bringing your eyes back to the menu.
âYeah, you can say that. He really helped me with getting a better grasp of Italian, too - you shouldâve seen me that first year, I was so lost. Heâs a nice guy, right?â
âYeah,â Steve said quietly. âSeems⊠friendly.â
For the rest of dinner, Steve was strangely quiet. Not silent, exactly - he still laughed at your jokes, chimed in on the stories you told, and, his breath audibly hitched when your hand found his knee under the table. He paid the bill quickly, both of you simultaneously deciding to book it to the car as fast as you could. He yanked open the door and gestured for you to go in, quickly following and slamming it shut behind him. As the car peeled away from the sidewalk and towards Steveâs apartment, a silence fell between you. The entire ride was silent. When you arrived at Steveâs building, you both exited the car and went upstairs without a word. Something was off - it was enough that you couldnât really bear it anymore, and once you were through the door, you just blurted it out.
âIs everything okay?â
âHm? Yeah, why wouldnât it be?â
You shrugged.
âItâs just - youâve been kind of quiet. Something on your mind?â
Steve stood on the other side of the island in the kitchen, arms crossed.Â
âEddie,â he mumbled.
You raised an eyebrow, confused. âWhat about Eddie? Do you know him or something?â
âNo, no - but⊠you do. He just seemed⊠is there something I donât know?â
âWhat do you mean?â
âWere you and him ever⊠well, you knowâŠâ
Thatâs what this was about? Eddie? You found yourself starting to laugh, palm to your mouth as you shook your head.
âOh, God no. Weâre just friends, and always have been.â
âSomeone should tell him that.â
You rolled your eyes. âNo, you donât get it - heâs like that with everyone. Heâs just, so⊠like that. Seriously, he could flirt with a brick wall. And he probably would, to be honest.â
âHe was calling you his muse -â
âHeâs dramatic like that -â
âAnd what kinds of pictures was he taking of you, exactly?â
You furrowed your brow, Steveâs face set like stone. Then, realizing what he was implying, you felt your face heat.
âCome on - my clothes were on, if thatâs what youâre asking. But, quite frankly, even if something had happened between me and Eddie, itâs not really any of your business.â
His face faltered for a moment, and you realized you had struck a nerve. You sighed, pressing your hand to your forehead.
âI just mean that⊠you donât have anything to worry about, okay? Heâs just a friend.â
Steveâs jaw clenched, and he nodded.
âOkay.â
Part of you was pissed off that this conversation was even happening. But another part of you was thrilled. The thought of Steve actually being jealous⊠It was new. It was exciting. And, you couldnât deny the way the thought of him being worked up like this, and just a bit possessive, over you⊠your heart fluttered in your chest. So, you just smiled slyly, taking a step towards him.
âIt seems like someoneâs jealous,â you murmured.
âIâm not -â
âYeah you are,â you said, now nearly face-to-face with him. âDoes it piss you off? The idea of me and Eddie? Do you think about him⊠touching me? Me screaming his name? You mustâve thought about it, right?â
You noted how his hands were clenched into fists at his side, and you smirked. You were close enough that your noses were nearly brushing, and you could practically feel the heat radiating off of him.
âI donât get jealous,â he whispered. âI donât do that.â
âProve it,â you said.
Then, he was on you, crashing his lips into yours. He was desperate, greedy, taking your face in his hands as he kissed you like it was the last thing youâd ever do. It was a blur after that - stumbling into his bedroom, shedding clothing on the way. He held your shoulders, keeping you in place just where he wanted you, practically manhandling you as he posed you towards the mattress. You had to do everything you could to suppress your grin - a lot of the time, you were in control, Steve moldable like clay in your hands. But this side of him⊠it was thrilling.Â
âHereâs what youâre going to do,â he practically growled, hovering over you. âYouâre going to do everything I say. Youâre going to lie there, and when Iâm done, youâre going to cum three times, at least, got it? Just so you donât go thinking anyone else can do this for you, baby - just me. Got it?â
Your stomach flipped, and you nodded. His eyes were dark, and part of you wondered where this version of Steve had been hiding this whole time. Maybe you needed to piss him off more often.
âYes,â you breathed.
âYes what?â
âYes⊠yes, daddy.â
That was enough to get him going. He practically pounced, kissing you fast and hard, and perhaps a little messily. He worked his way down your body, practically tearing off your bra like it was some horrid contraption meant to keep you from him. Your back arched as he took one breast in his mouth, the other in his hand, massaging it and flicking over your hardened nipple. You gasped, threading your fingers in his hair.
âCould just touch these tits all day, baby,â he whispered into your skin. âReally could⊠but you want something else, donât you.â
You bit your lip and nodded, watching as he pressed open-mouthed kisses into your skin, making his way down your navel, your hips, and then skipping where you wanted him, opting to ghost his lips over your inner thighs instead. You groaned in frustration, hips bucking as he continued to take his time.
âPatience, baby,â he breathed.Â
He brought his hand to your center, running his thumb along your slit until it was coated in your slick.
âLook at you, already so wet for me, and Iâve hardly touched you. Were you thinking about me, already worked up before you even got here?â
You pinched your brow, nodding as he brushed the pad of his thumb over your clit, a barely-there touch. You shivered, practically whining his name.
âWhatâs that, baby?â he asked sweetly.
âFuck - touch me, for godâs sake -â
âI am touching you -â
âYou know what I mean!â
âNot sure I do,â he said coyly, coating more of his fingers in your wetness, still avoiding where you wanted him most. You groaned, realizing youâd have to play into his game to get what you wanted.
âFuck me with your fingers Steve, please -â
And he does, easily plunging two fingers into your cunt without a momentâs hesitation. You gasped, throwing your head back as his thumb found your clit. He rubbed deep, slow circles, pumping his fingers along your walls. Your hips involuntarily bucked as he brushed against that one spot inside of your, knowing your body by now like the back of his hand. You were already close, worked up far too quickly to the point that it was embarrassing.
âFuck, youâre already squeezinâ me, baby. Are you close? Thatâs so fast, princess. Youâre such a good girl, fucking yourself on my fingers. Can you scream my name while you cum? Are you able to do that?â
Instead of answering, you fisted the sheets, hips moving with his hand as you chased your high. It hit you out of nowhere, the heat pooling between your thighs and spreading through you, blissful and rapid.
âFuck, Steve - fuck, Iâm coming, shit, Steve, itâs so good -â
He just hummed approvingly, pulling his fingers out of you. You huffed in frustration, still mid-orgasm, your cunt clenching around nothing.
âWhat the -â
Then the words caught in your throat, because he dove in, pressing his tongue against your still-sensitive clit. You were still coming down from your high, and he hardly gave you a moment to breathe. He worked you through the rest of your orgasm with his tongue. But, he didnât stop. He continued, lapping at your pussy while you twitched and convulsed. You were too sensitive, tears stinging your eyes at the overstimulation.Â
âOh, fuck - oh my God, Steve -â
You reached down to where he was settled between your legs, gripping his hair. You tugged perhaps a bit too hard, and he just groaned in response. He groans as you tug on the brunette strands, arching your back with the movements of his tongue. You planted your feet into the mattress, moaning as his tongue circled your clit.Â
You werenât even sure if you had ever stopped coming, the reprieve from your orgasm moments ago practically nonexistent. Your legs were shaking, and you were screaming, maybe the loudest you ever had in bed. The words were tumbling out of your mouth, because it was too much, it was everything, your mind going numb.
âFuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuck - Steve, god, just like that - itâs so good, itâs too much, Iâm gonna cum again - oh fuck -Iâ
It took one more circle of his tongue over your clit, and you were done for - your back arched enough that your head came off the pillow,his name on your lips as you screamed, tugging harshly on his hair as you saw stars behind your eyelids.
He continued to work you through your orgasm, hands placed firmly on your hips as he licked lazily at your folds, pressing deep thumbprints into your skin that you knew would leave bruises.
You felt tears running down your cheeks, your entire lower body still shaking as he brought his face back up to yours. His mouth and chin were glossy, his grin devil-like.
âWhat a good girl,â he whispered. âWas that good?â
âMm,â you murmured, hardly able to find the words. âSo good, thank you.â
âCan you do another?â he asked, dropping the mask for a moment - you considered for a moment. You reached down and ran a finger over your clit, wet and puffy, wincing slightly at the stimulation. But you just bit your lip as you looked up at him.
âI promised you three, sir,â you breathed. âIâm gonna cum three times, just like you asked.â
His eyes darkened, and he grinned wickedly.
âYouâre somethinâ else, you know that?â
âHow do you want me?â you asked, propping yourself up on your elbows. He thought for a moment, then glanced over his shoulder.Â
âUp against the glass,â he said, voice low and rough.
You followed his gaze to the massive floor-to-ceiling windows, overlooking the whole city. Your eyes widened, your heart nearly skipping a beat.
âYeah?â you asked sweetly. âYou gonna fuck me so everyone can see?â
âThe whole fuckinâ city, baby.â
You were on your feet in an instant, bounding over to the window. You pressed your back against it, the cool glass seeping into your skin as he stalked towards you, unbuckling his belt. He was practically fully dressed still, in stark contrast to how you stood bare before him. You realized then and there that he intended to keep it that way - he was going to fuck you fully clothed, still in his suit from dinner.Â
âTurn around,â he said.
Oh.
You nodded, doing as he said. You felt him behind you, his breath against your ear.
âYouâre fuckinâ dripping - got you nice and ready for me.â
âAnything for you, sir,â you whispered, casting a glance at him over your shoulder. âDo your worst.â
And he did. Without warning, he entered you from behind in one rough push, making your gasp and mewl around him.Â
âFuck,â he groaned, hips snapping against your ass. âThatâs it, baby - you can take it, canât you?â
âYes,â you breathed, âfuck me, please -â
And he did, pounding into you hard and fast. You cried out, palms pushed against the window. Your breasts brushed the cool glass, and he picked up the pace. You squeezed around his cock for good measure, knowing that you were practically soaking it. He pressed his face into your shoulder, lips against your skin.
âSo good for me, baby - letting me fuck you, after all that? Who else makes you feel this good?âÂ
âNobody?â you sighed.
âWhat was that?â
âNobody. Just you.â
âDamn right,â he said, voice cracking. âThis pussy is mine - I canât wait to cum in it, what a good girl - my princess, my baby, so good for me. Can you cum again? Can you do that?â
You nodded weakly, following his movements as you threw your ass against his hips. He had never taken you from behind before, and the new angle was enough to nearly send you over the edge. There was something so primal about it, so thrilling - the image of him thrusting into you from behind, your naked form pressed against the glass. Rome sprawled before you, and though you were too high for anyone to actually see you, part of you liked to imagine that they could, any passerby on the street able to see Steve Harrington fucking your brains out.
âYou should see yourself, all fucked out on my cock like this - are you close again? Are you gonna cum?â he breathed, skin slapping against yours. You reached down, rubbing fast circles on your clit to help get you to your peak.
âYes, oh god, yes - fuck, Steve - daddy - fill me up, please, harder. Fuck your little girl, let everyone see, please -â
And that was it for him. He let out a guttural groan, his spend filling you up as he came. He thrust into you a few more times, and you clenched around him as you followed, coming with a cry. You threw your head over his shoulder, shaking and clenching on his cock as you came for the third time that night. It was white-hot, devastating, the scream you let out feeling like it was ripped form your fucking soul. You had had a lot of orgasms with Steve, him drawing feelings out of you in bed that you had never had before. But this - there had never been anything like it.
As you both stood there in silence, his cock still buried in you while you breathed heavily in unison, you knew two things for certain: first, you needed to get Steve jealous far more often. And second - he had completely, utterly, ruined you for anyone else. You tried your best to ignore the terror that set in with that thought, and kissed his shoulder instead, holding onto the bliss for as long as you could.
author's note: I know the wait was long for this, so thanks for sticking around! It's also barely proofread, so if there's mistakes... just act like you didn't see them. As always, shoutout to Em for fueling the fic, and getting me to actually write. Reblogs and comments are always appreciated!
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I AM FUCKING SOBBING RIGHT NOW OHMYGOD THIS WAS SO GOOD!!! I love that he had someone to patch him up and just be THERE for him and ahhhdkskdkskdks you gave him a chance to cry đ„čđ„č ITâS SO PERSONAL TO MEđ€đ»đ€đ» This was absolutely amazing!!!! Loved thisđ«¶đ»â€ïž
â please donât goâ i need. i need someoneâ i need you. â and â it doesnât have to mean anything, i just donât wanna feel lonely tonight. and i want to feel good for once. â is making me feel things. honestly needy steve begging to not be lonely sounds lovely but either way â€ïž
how could i say goodbye? - steve x gn!reader
no pronouns for reader used; fluff, angst; hurt/comfort; sharing a bed; friends to lovers; love confessions; steve cry :(; brief mention of p*rn section at fam video but nothing in depth!
Youâve seen Steve like this before. Beaten up, bruised, a bit bloody. Youâve seen him wear the scars after. Borrowing Robinâs concealer for a cut lip and making up lies about being a klutz. Youâve bandaged him up, grabbed an ice pack and a handful of ibuprofen and sat them down on his bedside table, taking in his sleeping face before shutting off the light and going home.
This time, heâs scared. Everyone is. The worldâs up in smoke and fire and tens of people are missing or dead. Youâd wrung your hands the entire walk to Steveâs at 2 am, just as big military vehicles are pulling in. You couldnât sleep, not knowing whatâs become of him, and youâre relieved when his big, dumb house is in view, intact. A warm light on in his bedroom window. His car in the driveway, his dadâs car not.
Steveâs terrified when he opens the door, but his features soften immediately. His shirtâs off. You notice the lacerations on his torso immediately, but Steveâs pulling you in and locking the door before you can ask.
âDid you walk here?â is the first thing he says. You shrug, and he sighs loudly before wrapping you up in his arms. He smells like earth. âIâm sorry I didnât call.â
âLines are down anyway,â you mumble into his shoulder, trying not to kiss the skin as much as you want to. âWhat happened?â
He sighs again. âNot an earthquake.â
âI know.â
âGuess you could tell I needed a nurse, huh?â
You donât think itâs very funny, but you lead him to the bathroom, picking out the first aid kit youâd last restocked in July. âThink youâll need to lay down,â you say, gently kicking the cabinet under the sink shut. âBedroom.â
You work gently and diligently on his stomach. Heâd sworn to you it was already disinfected by the same people who partially cleaned him up after Starcourt. You still apply alcohol, much to his dismay. But even when heâs wincing, heâs quiet. Steveâs not known to be quiet. Your anxiety nearly gets the best of you, almost screaming at him when you ask again, âWhat happened?â
He stares at you for a long time, brown eyes starting to wet. âNot tonight,â he says.
âRobin?â
âSheâs alive, too. Almost -â and he takes a deep breath, pauses when you dab some more isopropyl on his spent skin. âEddie.â Itâs all he says. You bite at your cheek. You didnât know Eddie well, and youâve still got a lot of questions - but itâs a confirmation that those you know who usually get into these kinds of messes are okay.
Youâre not unaware of the pointed use of the word alive and not okay. He was okay after 1984, and okay again after 1985, but 1986 only brings the word alive.
You use gauze to wrap the cuts on his stomach before taking another once over of him. Heâs still so beautiful, even caked with mud and dirt and some weird thick gross slime that heâd only moaned a little donât ask about. âYour neck,â you whisper, brows furrowing.
He nods a bit. âHurts.â
You disinfect it, too, gently dabbing him with a cotton pad. âHurts to swallow? To talk?â
âMhm.â
âThatâs okay,â you soothe, âIâll stop askinâ questions now.â
âDonât,â he whispers, suddenly grabbing your wrist. âKeep talking. Please.â
You swallow and nod before continuing your work. âMy house is fine. It looks most bad in downtown - I guess you already know that? The phone lines - I said that already. Guess what I did today?â
A hint of a smile. He shrugs a shoulder.
âI finally checked out the porn section at Family Video.â
His smile grows.
âWhich I guess was really good timing. But Keith was there - something about how his employees didnât show up? Do you know anything about that?â
âNothing,â he mouths.
âI didnât rent anything,â you continue, âI just wanted to look. And I guess - I guess I just wanted to see you, too.â
His big eyes get all soft again. âSorry.â
âDonât be sorry.â You dab away the last remnants of blood from his neck and pull back to throw the cotton pad in the trash. âShouldnât apologize for saving the world.â
Youâre prepping a band aid for a cut on his head when he whispers, âWe didnât this time.â
You look back at him in a little bit of shock. Yes, the things always come back. But heâs never come back and said âyeah, we really dropped the ball this time.â Heâs always been relatively confident, giving it âan eighty to eighty-five percent chanceâ that this was the last time.
âZero percent,â he says, like heâs reading your mind. âWe didnât.â
âLetâs worry about that tomorrow, okay? I saw those big government vehicles - theyâll help.â
He makes a face that tells you everything. They wonât. They donât know how.
âIâm sorry,â you say, leaning back towards him and resting your hands on his chest.
You see his adamâs apple bob. âIâm sorry I couldnât make it safe for you.â
Steve has never cried before in front of you. Heâs gotten close, but just walked away, pinching his nose and coming back a few minutes later like nothing ever happened. But now, heâs crying. Itâs soft, a few tears riding down his cheeks.
âSteve.â Your voice cracks. âNone of this is your fault. None of it. You canât save the world. Iâm - Iâm so happy youâre safe.â You press your tongue to the roof of your mouth, trying to fight off a sob. âIâm just glad you came home.â
He closes his eyes and bites his lip. You move away with your kit, placing it on his desk before moving back to him. You push his hair out of his face softly. âGet some sleep. Okay?â
Steveâs eyes shoot open and he looks scared again. Panicked. He shakes his head and grabs your hands, pulling you into him so far that you almost trip and fall on top of him. âPlease donât go. I need - I need someone. I need you.â
Your heart jumps up to your throat and you swallow thickly. Heâs never asked you for this before. And heâs genuine - his eyes are wild and still wet and he looks so, so scared. Scared of losing you.
âOkay,â you whisper. âIâll get some blankets and -â
âHere,â he says, tugging you in again. âI - look, I know. But it doesnât have to mean anything. I just donât wanna feel lonely tonight. I want to feel good for once. I - goddammit. I want you. Please.â
I want you. It rings in your head. I want you.
You move to the other side of the bed and slide under the covers, cuddling up close to him. Steve turns onto his side as best as he can - youâd chosen his good side to lay beside. You wrap him in your arms as he rests his head on your chest. His grip on you is tight and it has to hurt. His muscles have to be screaming at him to stop and rest. But he holds you like you might get taken, too, along with all the others.
And he cries. You feel the tears soaking through your shirt. He tries his best not to make any noise, but he still sniffles and clears his throat. You rake your hand through his hair and hold him as tight as you can, too.
âSteve,â you whisper. âI love you. I just - I had to say it.â
Thereâs a pause, a shaky breath, before he pushes himself up to kiss you. Itâs small and otherwise insignificant, but warm and sweet and what youâve wanted for years. Youâre surprised when he pulls back, but you melt as he whispers, âI love you, too.â
He settles into your chest again, and you resume combing his hair, heart pounding. âIâm here. Okay? Iâll take care of you. Just rest. I love you.â
He sighs and relaxes. âI love you, too.â
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Oh my god I feel this SO MUCH lmao this hit a little too close jakskskdkskdkxkckskdkxk Steve being the most caring and loving and best bf during this is EXACTLY what I need so now Iâm going to spend my next few hours thinking about how he would comfort me thanks kskxjsnfkskfjdjkcjzmxkzk
THIS WAS SO FUCKING SWEET AHHH LOVED THIS!
Can you write something where reader is overworked and Steve finds her asleep among the books? Idk just seemed cute...
this is the most self-projecting thing i have ever written bwdjkdjbewkb ANYWAYS
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It was a lot.Â
You always knew it would be a lot but this was just beyond anything you had ever expected, or maybe you just werenât prepared for it. Maybe you werenât cut out for college and all the assignments and classes and work. Maybe you were in over your head.Â
You knew pretty early on you wanted to go to college. You wanted to be the first person in your family to go into further education. You wanted a degree with your name and achievements on it. It was all you had ever really expected from yourself.Â
You set the standard and now you were struggling to meet it.Â
The jump from high school to college was no joke but you thought you were coping. And for a while, you were. You were staying on top of assignments, you had a planner to help you remember classes and deadlines, and you were balancing a social life pretty damn well.Â
But then you missed a class.Â
And then you missed two.Â
And the next thing you knew, you were drowning in essays and presentations and modules and you couldnât take it. You could barely handle the limited social interactions that attending class required alone, let alone everything else on top.Â
But you were stubborn and you didnât want to burden anyone, and you kept it all in. You put a smile on your face, gave your cookie-cutter answers when someone asked how college was going and only allowed yourself to break down behind closed doors.Â
Steve knew you better than you knew yourself, and he knew just how much pressure you put on yourself.Â
He could see it on your face as the weeks went by, the way you would dissociate in large groups of people or the way you would always be picking at your nail beds when you were away from your books too long, like it was killing you inside to be wasting time anywhere but your desk.Â
But he was a patient man, and he cared about you a lot so he waited. He waited for you to say something. He waited for you to open up to him.Â
You never did, though. And he had a pretty good idea why.Â
It broke his heart to see the girl he loved slowly kill herself with stress and anxiety, and it killed him to know he couldnât do anything beyond reminding you to eat three meals a day and stay hydrated.Â
He hated that you couldnât see the girl he saw. When you saw flaws and mistakes, he just saw you.Â
You, as a whole. You, as one of the most determined people he has ever met. You, as the girl who was worth so much more than she assumed.Â
It was how he found himself at your doorstep, fist raised to knock on the door as he waited for you to answer. Thursdays had always been your date nightâboth because it was the one day you didnât have any classes and Steveâs guaranteed day off from Family Video after cutting a deal with Robin.Â
When you didnât answer after a minute, Steve was worried.Â
When you didnât answer after five minutes, Steve was really concerned.Â
It barely broke into the sixth minute before he was using his spare key and letting himself in.Â
But the thumping of his racing heart quickly calmed down when he burst through the door as saw your head laid on the desk, a variety of open books scattered across the surface and a pen laying next to your now limp hand.Â
He paused, a soft smile on his face as he took in the sight of how peaceful you looked. No worry lines or furrowed brows, no biting your lips or chewing on the inside of your cheek.Â
Just you finally catching a break.Â
And then his heart twinged with guilt and concern when he realised this was probably the first break you gave yourself, and it wasnât willingly. You had probably exhausted yourselfâSteve knew how unreliable your sleep schedule was when you were stressedâand he hated that it reached the point of you passing out on your books to get you to take a break.
As softly as he could, he shrugged off his jacket and shoes before he made his way over to you, knowing he hated that he had to wake you up but hated even more the idea of you sleeping in such an awkward position and hurting your back.Â
âSweetheart,â he called out softly, his thumb gently pushing some hair out of your face and tucking it behind your ear. âCâmon, baby.âÂ
You let out a small whine, your nose scrunching up.Â
âI know, baby, I know,â he cooed softly as his thumb skimmed across your cheek in slow strokes.Â
âSteve?â you murmured, still half-asleep and almost convinced you had conjured an image of your boyfriend.Â
âIâm sorry for waking you up, pretty girl,â he spoke just above a whisper, his eyes taking in the sight of the bags under your eyes and his guilt grew tenfold. âOh baby, when was the last time you slept?âÂ
Your head still felt a little fuzzy as you sat up in your chair, eyebrows furrowed together as you tried to grasp the reality of the world around you. âUh, Sunday?âÂ
Steve frowned. âBaby, what day do you think it is?âÂ
âMonday?âÂ
Steveâs face softened immediately and the boy wasted no time in taking your face in his hands, a soft kiss pressed on your forehead that made you close your eyes to enjoy the embrace.Â
âCâmon, we are getting you to bed,â he whispered against your skin, and almost instantly he felt your body tense. He knew exactly where this was going, the words that were about to leave your lips and he refused to let you push yourself any further than you already had.Â
âSteveââÂ
âNope, come on now,â he said as he pulled you up from your seat, his hands wrapping around your body and holding you close to him before you could wiggle out of his grasp. âItâs my week to choose a date and I am choosing a nap.âÂ
Your face fell and he could see the guilt in your eyes. âItâs Thursday?â
âYeah, baby,â he murmured softly, one hand catching your face before you could turn away. âHey, listen, itâs okay. We all forget sometimes.âÂ
âI justââ you let out a staggered breath. âI was working on my assignment for that stupid history class and then I forgot I had a presentation in my Spanish class and I swore it was only Tuesday, at least andââ
âHey, baby, breathe fâme,â he murmured as he held your face in his hands. âItâs okay, I get it. I do. But baby, you gotta give yourself a break or youâre gonna kill yourself.âÂ
You sighed, leaning into his touch. âSteve, I canâtââÂ
âYou can and you will,â Steve stated and gave you a firm look. âThis isn't doing you any good. You need to rest that big brain of yours.â
Your lips twitched upwards. âI just donât know how to handle it all.âÂ
âWeâll work it out together, okay? After a nap though,â he murmured and pressed another kiss to the top of your head. âI miss sleeping with my pretty girl in my arms.âÂ
He was thoroughly amused to see the way your cheeks burned up at his words.Â
âYeah, I guess I missed your hugs too.âÂ
âDamn right you did,â Steve grinned proudly. âIâm your best pillow.âÂ
You let out a small snort, the sound soothing something in his chest that didnât make him feel like a fist was clenching his heart.
âWe can even order from that Mexican place in town when we wake up.âÂ
âReally?â
âReally, now get that cute ass on the bed now, baby.â
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