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erin-bo-berin · 1 year

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Dirty Little Secret

Steve Harrington x Reader

Warnings: Smut (It gets filthy I’m sorry)

MASTERLIST

Steve Harrington was one of the nicest guys around.

He was polite, opened doors for women and always took care of his loved ones before himself.

He was your average, attractive young man.

But you wouldn’t know to look at him that he might have a dirty little secret—a whole different side to him that very few knew about.

Steve could get downright filthy in bed.

While he wasn’t exactly shy outside of the bedroom, he definitely wasn’t as confident as he seemed in it.

You’d never expected him to hear some of the things that left his mouth until you’d first slept with him. It was an absolute turn on for you as Steve’s dirty talk had come as a surprise, yet a welcomed one.

But, Steve wasn’t the only one with a dirty little secret. You had one too.

You were hooking up with your boss.

Steve was your boss.

And your dirty little secret was Steve.

•

Steve had been manager at Family Video rental store for less than a year when you’d first applied. You’d thought he was cute, but that’s as far as it went. It was possible he’d become your boss, anyway.

When you got the job, you were surprised at how much you actually enjoyed it. Steve was an excellent boss—friendly, patient and caring towards his employees. He never yelled at a worker when they messed up on the first day nor did he give them a hard time if it was a slow day. He was personable, chatty and never met a stranger.

While your attraction to him grew, you never gave much thought to anything actually happening. Granted, it was just a video store franchise and not a more serious occupation like the medical or legal field, but you still tried to remind yourself that he was the boss.

That was until one night, after work, hanging out with him, Robin and a few other employees, one drink too many landed you in his bed.

Needless to say, the rest was history.

Now, you’d been called to his office and there you sat, feeling like you’d just been called to the principal’s office. It was either that or Steve was hoping to reenact a scene from a steamy romance novel and had called you in for a whole different reason.

The office wasn’t huge, but it had a desk, a couch and a chair—all seeming to be mismatched but he never cared. He rarely spent all day in his office as he helped his employees out front more often than not. Usually, he only worked on paperwork back here, which is why you were more suspicious than normal.

“Oh hey, sorry, Kelly and Robin just took off for lunch and I told them we had a problem to solve,” Steve said, walking in, not bothering to shut the door behind him.

Your brows practically raised to your hairline. You couldn’t tell if that was an innuendo or not.

He was dressed in jeans, a blue and black striped polo and his usual Family Video vest, always making sure he wore it as he was proud of his manager badge.

“We do?” you croaked.

If you’d known he was up for some fun today, you’d opted for a skirt instead of the jeans you were wearing and silently scolded yourself for the choice of bottom wear.

“Mhm,” he was leafing through papers as he answered, glancing up at you when he found what he needed, a sticky note with some scribble on it, “You know the boxes of new VHS tapes we were supposed to be getting last Monday?”

Your brain tried to keep up as you realized it was actually a work reason, not a sexual reason why he called you in here. You straightened, demeanor instantly changing as you got down to business.

“Yeah. They still not arrived yet?”

“Nope.”

Steve blew out a breath that sent the tendril of hair that was resting against his forehead flying upwards.

“I figured it was time to call corporate, but I had to find their number first,” he explained, before grabbing the phone from its cradle and punching in the number.

“You needed me for this?” you raised an amused brow.

“Well yes. And something else,” he gave you a side glance before speaking into the phone.

“Hi, yes, this is Steve Harrington, manager of the Family Video in Hawkins, Indiana. We were supposed to get a shipment of new tapes this past week and it hasn’t arrived.”

He swiveled back and forth in his chair while you waited patiently to find out why he’d called you in.

“Uh huh. Okay, yes, I’ll hold,” he looked over at you, rolling his eyes.

“Aw, did you want me to keep you company while you were forced to listen to elevator music?” you teased.

“You could say that. Also, to return these.”

He’d been pulling open the desk drawer to his right before he’d finished his sentence and what he pulled out was now dangling from one finger.

Hanging from his index finger were a pair of black lace underwear. Your black lace underwear.

“You left these in my car the other night,” he smirked.

You felt a flush rise to your cheeks as you glanced over your shoulder to his open office door, afraid someone might overhear.

“They’re all at lunch, sweetheart. It’s just you and me.”

You turned back to him, his smirk now have grown wider than before, if that were possible.

“Give me those,” you whispered, even though you knew no one on the other end of phone could hear you either.

He pulled back out of your reach when you tried to grab them.

“Not so fast, Y/N. You’ve been a naughty girl, leaving those out for anyone to find them in my car. You think you deserve to get them back so soon?”

He was clearly enjoying this way too much and you glared at him, though the only heat in your gaze was from your desire, not anger.

“Well maybe I just wanted to leave something for you to remember me by,” you retorted, figuring you could play this game too.

“Oh honey, you leave more than enough for that.”

His gaze swept down your body and you couldn’t help but feel a chill down your spine. You’d been with other guys before, but no one managed to turn you on, satisfy you and make you desire more all in one breath as much as Steve did. Whether it was the secrecy of your hook ups or the intense connection between you two, it made it that much more exciting.

He rubbed the soft, silky material between his thumb and forefinger, still taunting you.

“What is this? Silk? Satin?”

“Satin,” you replied numbly, aware of nothing but him.

“They’re so soft. Perfect for me to shove down my pants and rub against my—yes, hello this is Steve Harrington speaking.”

His voice immediately went from the low rasp, dripping with seduction to casual and business-like as you figure someone finally picked up his call.

You had to squeeze your thighs together, trying to keep in control. You still had the rest of the day to get through and you wouldn’t make it all hot and bothered like you currently were.

He’d dropped your panties in his lap, giving you a raised brow in challenge; if you wanted them back, you’d have to come get them yourself.

He sounded perfectly normal on the phone as he chatted with the person on the other end of the line about the missing shipment of movies. To anyone else, nothing would be amiss, but you saw the gleam in his eyes, noticed the slightly deeper breathing that indicated he was as turned on as you were.

Which is why you marched around his desk to retrieve your panties off his lap. You delicately wrapped your fingers around the material of them, making sure they brushed against his crotch of his jeans in the process. He was hard, just as you’d expected him to be.

You weren’t done yet though. Before removing your hand, you flattened your palm against the bulge rubbing over it enough just to keep him wanting more. One look at his face told you that it’d worked as he bit his lip, eyelids fluttering. You could hear someone talking through the phone, though you couldn’t make out what was being said.

“Mhm, I understand.”

Only the slightest croak of his voice gave him away that he’d been affected by your touch.

Pulling back, depositing the underwear in your pocket, you bent to his ear, whispering a promise to him.

“This isn’t over yet.”

•

You intended to wait until the end of the day to execute your revenge and you made sure everyone else had left before you put your plan in action.

When he wasn’t looking and was busy in the back with the inventory—which managed to finally arrive, albeit delayed—you grabbed the items you needed and headed to his office. You snatched his Family Video vest off the front counter where he’d slung it earlier, a wicked grin spreading on your face as your plan became even better than you imagined.

You had plenty of time to get ready and you waited for a good fifteen minutes before you heard his footsteps approach. You didn’t think he’d realized you were still here and you intended to give him the surprise of his life.

When he opened his office door, he froze in the doorway, jaw slackened.

You laid back against the arm of the couch in nothing but the pair of black lacy panties and his Family Video vest.

“Holy shit,” he groaned lowly, eyes taking you in.

The excruciating wait was completely worth it as you could practically see his desire swallow him entirely.

“Told you I’d get you back for that little stunt earlier,” you smirked.

“Wondered where my vest went,” he mumbled, walking over, eyes still glued to you as he did.

“Thought I’d do some cleaning for you. I can always do a French maid look too, if you’d like,” you grinned.

“I like this one better.”

He was kneeling on the couch, hovering over you faster than you’d anticipated as his lips met yours in a heated kiss. His hand pressed against the bare skin of your stomach, sliding up until it cupped your breast beneath the vest.

Your nipples had already began to harden under the scratchy material of the vest as you’d awaited him, but you felt them tighten again as he squeezed your boob in his hand, wasting no time.

You moaned into the kiss as your hands on his chest glided up to where your arms circled his neck. His hips pressed against yours and you felt the heat begin to rise in you when you felt the hard on in his jeans pressing against your thigh. You couldn’t wait to get his clothes off and let the fun really begin.

He pulled back, smirking when you whimpered from the loss. He repositioned himself to where he was sitting normally on the couch and patted his lap.

“Come here sweetheart. You want me? You gotta come get me.”

You obeyed immediately, climbing into his lap, eager to have his lips back on yours, to feel him against you.

But he didn’t resume the earlier kiss, his hands pushed back the vest, uncovering what little hadn’t already been on display for him.

“As sexy as you are in that, I’m going to need it off you,” he mumbled.

You let the item drop to the floor as his lips attached to your neck. It’d barely been a minute or two since he’d walked in the door and you were already aching with an intensity you’d never felt before.

Your clit throbbed and you found yourself grinding against his crotch, moaning at the contact in addition to him sucking a bruise on your neck. Your hands found your boobs, massaging them—something you never did, but went to show how much you lost your mind when you were with Steve.

“Fuck baby, I’m not even out of my shirt and you’re gonna make me cum already,” he grumbled into your neck, losing all focus as you moved against his throbbing cock.

His fingers dug into your hips as you continued grinding against him. You’d spent nearly six hours horny for him today, so you thought it was fair if he suffered a bit too.

One little whimpered moan from you was all it took as he did just that, a curse slipping from his lips. You peered down, feeling at the same time as you saw the wet spot widen across the crotch of his jeans. He let his forehead drop against your shoulder with a groan of acknowledgement while you smirked, proud that you’d gotten him so worked up, he’d cum in his pants.

“You’re paying for that,” he growled lowly, teeth sinking gently into your earlobe, “I’m not anywhere near through with you.”

A shiver of delight coursed through your body as he laid you back down against the couch, starting back at your lips, taking it much slower. His mouth moved languidly against yours, fingers stroking your side gently. Only when his tongue met yours did he finally speed things up a bit. Your heavy breathing and smack of your lips against one another’s were the only sounds to be heard, minus the occasional moans.

From there, he kissed down your jaw, sucking on random spots as he fanned them down across your neck and collarbones. You tugged impatiently at his shirt, trying to pull it up as he ventured his kisses down to your breasts.

“Someone needs a lesson in patience, it seems,” he mused, sitting back to pull off his shirt.

Your teeth sunk into your lower lip, trying to hold back the moan. He was attractive any time, but you absolutely loved his chest. Not only was it tanned and broad, but covered in a layer of coarse, dark hair that you loved to run your hands over and a splattering of moles that ran all the way down and over his stomach. It was what made him Steve and you loved every peek of it you got.

“No, I need you to make me see fucking stars,” you retorted, pulling him back down towards you.

“Seeing stars is just the minimum when you’re with me,” he smirked confidently, “I’ll make you forget your name.”

“Is that a promise?” you asked, tongue moistening your lips, desperate to kiss him again.

He rolled one of your nipples between his fingers causing you to whimper before he answered.

“Baby, that’s a guarantee.”

You groaned in frustration, not sure how much more teasing you could take, making Steve chuckle. He was only just beginning with you, apparently.

His lips lowered to your chest, tongue swirling around your nipple before flicking his tongue over it and taking it into his mouth, sucking softly. His other hand squeezed your neglected boob, making sure to give it attention too.

As hard as you tried to enjoy the sensation—and it was amazing—you just wanted him between your legs. Whether it was his mouth, cock or fingers, at this point, you didn’t care. He’d wound you up so tight, you were ready to snap like a rubber band stretched too thin.

“Steve, come on,” you whined.

He’d moved on from your boobs, licks and kisses being sprinkled down your stomach, his fingers playing with the band of your panties.

“So impatient,” he mock frowned, “You that desperate for me?”

His touch grazed over the crotch of your panties, eliciting a hiss from you.

“Y-Yes,” you breathed.

“What do you want? Tell me.”

His fingers passed over it again, with just slightly more pressure, only giving you a taste of what was to come.

“Your fingers, mouth, I don’t care,” you groaned, legs inadvertently spreading wider for him.

With a low chuckle, he peeled off the underwear that started the whole thing.

“I have even more appreciation for those now,” he smirked up at you, fingertip trailing along your slit.

“Steve,” you whined, fully unable to mask your impatience.

His intense gaze never left yours as he pushed one finger into you and your eyes fluttered closed, your pussy instantly tightening around the one digit.

“Mm,” he moaned, noticing just how aroused you were, “This all for me, Y/N?”

He didn’t often use your name because pet names fell out of his mouth so easily when he got dirty, but the few times it did, it drove you wild. This instance was no different and you squirmed beneath him, groaning.

“It’s always for you,” you whispered, biting your lip as you looked at him.

He leaned down over you, connecting your lips again as his finger slid in and out of you. You moaned appreciatively when he added another, the slight stretch just preparing you for the delicious sensation of his cock, later.

You could’ve stayed there, kissing him, with his fingers twisting inside you at just the right angle, but he sat back again, settling between your legs, hands on your thighs.

He peered up at you, his hair already mussed to the point several pieces fell onto his forehead and the sides stood up almost comically. But the sight alone was practically orgasmic.

He gave one thigh a gentle squeeze before lowering his mouth to you, licking a line along your slit, ending at your clit which he gave a flick with his tongue.

“Shit,” you hissed, already gripping onto the edge of the couch.

You’d discovered it before, but he never failed to remind you just how good he was at things like this.

His lips closed around the throbbing bud, sucking on it just enough for you to feel the deliriously amazing effect of it. He moved lower, tongue licking into you causing your back to arch, your hips rising with it, trying to get as close to him as possible.

He kept you on your toes, licking, sucking, kissing, savoring you like you were his favorite meal. You felt his own answering moans against you, making you writhe.

The pressure of your impending orgasm was building, that tight knot in the pit of your stomach just aching to snap with one right move. After a few more thrusts of his tongue into you, he replaced his mouth with his fingers, sliding them so easily into you as you were probably dripping at this point.

Circling your clit with his tongue, he kissed it and brought it back into his mouth.

“Oh fuck, oh fuck,” you whimpered, hand threading into his hair.

Even if he wasn’t familiar with your body by now, he’d been able to tell you were close to snapping by the whine in your voice and the way your pussy fluttered against his fingers, repeatedly tightening around them.

At the last second, just when you were ready to fall over the cliff of bliss, he stilled his fingers, completely removing his mouth from you. He placed gentle kisses against the inside of your thigh, smirking at your cries of outrage.

“No, Steve! Fuck.”

This time, the expletive was pure frustration as the just within reach orgasm completely dissipated.

“I told you you’d pay for earlier,” he smirked, the challenge gleaming in his eyes, “But the way you’ve been carrying on, I’m hard as a fucking rock again, darling.”

His thumb teased your clit as he spoke to you and the whimpered moan that left your lips was probably pathetic, but in the moment, you were desperate.

He leaned back down, tongue lapping at your clit. Your head fell back against the arm of the couch, relieved to feel his mouth on you again.

He quickly resumed what he was doing, mouth and fingers combined. The impending orgasm built again, much quicker this time. Once again, you prepared for your climax to hit you and once again he stopped just on the brink of it.

“I really hate you right now,” you seethed, breathless and aching for him.

“With the way you’ve been moaning my name and begging?” he grinned up at you devilishly, one hand sliding up your stomach to tweak your nipple, “I hate to see what you’d do if you really liked me.”

You were too far gone to care about what came out of your mouth.

“Make me cum and maybe you’ll find out.”

“Tell me,” Steve stalled long enough for one teasing lick along your slit, then peered up at you, “How badly do you want to cum?”

“So fucking badly,” you whined, hips rising off the couch, trying to make contact again, “Please, Steve.”

So he obliged, lowering his head, intending to give you what you’d asked so nicely for. One hand gripped your thigh, the other busy, a few fingers deep within you, keeping pace with his mouth on your clit.

At this point, you lost all sense of control as your hips bucked and you practically ground against his face. Your hand gripped his hair and you felt his deep moan against your clit. That was all it took for the orgasm to crash over you, even more intense than it would’ve been the first time. Your thighs shook and trembled as the intense waves of pleasure coursed through your body.

You and he had yet to get to the main event and he’d already made you see stars.

When he was satisfied he’d wrung every last bit of the orgasm from you, he climbed back up to your face, cheeks flushed and lips slick. You may have just had an orgasm more intense than you’d ever had, yet you still hungered for more.

“Such a good girl for me,” he murmured.

As your lips met, your hands busied themselves with his belt buckle and jeans. As amazing as what he’d just done to you was, you were eager for him to be deep inside you, stretching you in ways his fingers couldn’t.

He pulled away with a groan when you’d gotten his jeans unzipped enough to slip your hand inside his underwear, fingers curling around his cock.

“Feel how hard you make me,” he whispered against your ear, “That’s all you, sweetheart.”

His words caused the ache between your legs to grow, tenfold.

“I want these off. Now,” you demanded.

“Who’s the boss now?” he teased, sitting back to push his jeans and underwear down his hips.

You watched, eyes taking in every bare inch of him as he stood to pull them off. You pointed to the couch as you sat up, voicing your next command.

“Sit.”

He did as he was told and you climbed into his lap, legs straddling his waist. His grin widened as his hands found your waist, eyes looking up at your face now hovered a few inches above his.

“You gonna ride my cock until you’re dripping down it?” he practically purred, helping you position yourself in his lap until just the head teased your opening.

“Yes,” you said matter of factly.

“Good, ‘cause I want you to drain every last drop from me.”

You rubbed against the head of his cock, causing him to groan—this time it was your turn to smirk.

“I intend to.”

You lowered yourself onto him, deep sighs coming from both of you at how good it felt. You stayed still for only a moment to appreciate the feeling before your hips began moving forward.

You hummed appreciatively as you once again got used to how he felt deep within you.

Steve looked to be as enthralled with the feeling as you were, his head tilted against the back of the couch, watching you through lidded eyes. Your hips moved slowly at first but they sped up as you rested your hands against his chest, leaning forward to kiss him again.

His hands slid from your waist, up your back as he pulled you closer to him. Your arms wrapped around his neck, your chest pressed against his, the kiss as heated and quick as your lower bodies moved. Before long though, it was hard to keep from making noise and he broke the kiss, moaning deeply.

“God, you feel so good. You feel so fucking good,” he groaned, complimentary.

“You’re not so bad yourself, Harrington,” you retorted, biting your lip, trying to control yourself as he continued to thrust deeper up into him.

His hand cupped your cheek, pulling your face closer to his, his lips so close you could feel his warm breath fanning over your face.

“No one’s here baby, be as loud as you want.”

It was as if that permission caused a dam to break within you, all your held back moans and whimpers coming cascading out at once.

“That’s a good girl. You look so good riding my cock,” he groaned, lips skirting over your shoulder.

He held you close, your chests flush with one another as your head tilted backwards. He took the opportunity to press kisses against your throat, moaning into your skin as you both rocked closer to your highs.

You let out a particularly loud moan when his hips circled just right, hitting a sensitive spot within you that practically made your eyes roll, your fingers digging into his biceps.

“Moan for me, sweetheart,” he rasped, lips still pressed against your skin, “Say my name.”

“Steve,” you whimpered, “Don’t stop.”

You felt yourself clenching around him as you spiraled closer to your finish, wanton moans escaping your throat.

“Fuck, baby, yes,” he groaned, your inadvertent clamping around his dick causing him to spiral quicker.

One hand had stayed rested on your lower back as you moved on him, the other exploring wildly. From grazing your boob, giving it a squeeze, to your hips, fingers digging into them. Now, it snaked downwards between you two as he pulled you in for a rough kiss, lasting only a moment or two. He pulled away when his thumb reached your clit, circling it just enough to progress your orgasm faster.

His face was flushed from exertion, hair wild as he looked at you with heavy lidded eyes, drunk off the endorphins that the sex was creating. His voice was firm though, almost boss-like when he spoke his command, his gaze never leaving yours.

“Come on baby, cum.”

It was as if you were so tuned to his body that you truly could release at a snap of his fingers. You cried out as your high hit you, his name falling off your tongue repeatedly, your body refusing to let up its movement until you’d wrung every last bit of pleasure from the climax.

Steve, in turn, had no problem falling right behind you as he’d held back as long as he could, wanting to take care of you first before he gave in to his own pleasure. But one look at your face as it crumpled and scrunched in pleasure as you came was enough to fully send him over the precipice, which he did as loudly as he pleased.

Lips locked in another kiss, both of your bodies slowly eased its rocking as you both enjoyed every possible second of the experience. Your blood still felt heated, electricity zinging through your veins as if Steve had actually lit you on fire from within.

When your body finally stilled against his, you and he both were breathing heavy, a thin layer of sweat coating your bodies. You were sure you had the same sex flush that he did, his cheeks rosy, lips swollen from all your kisses. You saw a blooming hickey on his collarbone that you didn’t even remember giving him, though you felt a tiny bit proud of the mark. Even if no one else knew it was there, you would know.

His chest heaved with his uneven breath, his hands glided up and down your back as he looked up at you with a satiated smile. A big part of you didn’t want the moment to end, but you knew it had to.

He showed no intention of moving right away though. His hand cupped your cheek and even with the touch alone, you could tell that he’d reverted back to his normal, sweet and gentlemanly persona.

He pulled your face to his, kissing you again, this one long and deep, much more sensuous than your wild, eager and desperate ones from before. It was truly a toe curling kiss—as if what you and he had previously done hadn’t been toe curling enough.

When he pulled away, the look on his face made you tilt your head to the side in confusion.

“What?” you asked, a smile forming on your lips.

“I was just thinking,” he began, thumb rubbing gently over your bottom lip, “I haven’t wanted to keep you a secret for a while. But after that? I want to take you out even more than I originally did.”

Your lips parted in surprise, but it was definitely a pleased surprised.

“Really?”

“Yeah. Is that okay with you?”

You nodded, a smile spreading across your face as your teasing remark left your lips.

“Of course. After all, you’re the boss.”

#steve harrington #steve harrington fic #steve harrington smut #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x fem!reader #steve harrington x y/n #stranger things #stranger things fic #stranger things smut

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hairrington · 2 years

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Without A Clue

Summary: Steve is into you. Really, really into you. The only problem is that everybody seems to know it but you. It’s not until you get dragged into the Upside Down that you finally start to see just how much he cares about you. Female reader hurt/comfort in which reader is clueless to Steve’s feelings! Requested by anon. Some canon divergence. CW: blood/injury. Gif credit to hawkinsindiana.

The rowboat was bobbing in the middle of Lovers Lake with the five of you inside, but it rocks even more when you stand.

"Whoa, what are you doing?" Steve asks.

"The gate should be down there, right?" you say. "We have only one way to know for sure."

"You're jumping... in there?" Eddie asks, staring into the black water.

"I'll go," Steve urges.

"You snooze, you lose, Harrington," you say, peering over the corner, adrenaline coursing through your veins.

"Damn, (Y/N) has guts," Robin says with an impressed scoff.

"(Y/N), seriously," Steve mumbles.

"I'll be fine, Steve," you say. "Hate to brag, but I have great lung capacity." You give him a proud smile before plunging into the cold lake.

As you pump your arms through one breast stroke after another, deeper and deeper into the still water, you think about how you got here in the first place.

It all started with a part-time job at the arcade. One lunch break, you decided to kill time in the video rental store next door. You figured it was better than sitting in the arcade’s depressing break room.

Standing in the Sci Fi section, your eyes travelled over the spines of the VHS tapes. You noticed movement near you and looked up to catch a handsome man's eyes. The next second, you noticed his uniformed vest and name-tag.

"Looking for any recommendations?" he asked.

Normally, you would've said you were just browsing, but the guy was too sweet to turn away.

"Sure," you answered.

"Anything in particular you look for in a sci fi flick?" he asks, raising an arm to rest on the top shelf.

"Hmm, lots of action," you say.

"Adrenaline junkie?" he asks.

"You could say that," you answer.

"Well," Steve says, lips pursed. "You might like...” His eyes landed on a tape. “Somewhere In Time. Maybe. I don't know. To be honest, I'm trying to look like I'm good at my job in front of my boss."

You laughed, amused by this rambling stranger whose nametag you could now read: Steve. Sure enough, way at the front counter, a long-haired man stared daggers into the employee’s back.

"So, Steve,” you said. “I should look like I'm getting a lot of valuable information from you.” You began nodding and looking at Steve seriously, knowing you were being watched.

"Thank you," he said with a relieved smile.

"I get it," you said. "I got one of those types of managers next door."

"Oh, you work at the arcade?" Steve asked.

“Yes,” you joked. You had put a cardigan over the itchy t-shirt you were forced to wear, put pointed to the small fraction of words on the shirt. “And I swear, time actually stops there.” Steve half-smirked.

“I thought it’d be fun to work over there.”

“I hear pinball machines in my sleep,” you said seriously, making Steve smirk again. “So, to make you look good, I should probably rent something out, huh?”

“I’ll owe you one,” Steve replied.

After that, you visited the video store way more often than you needed to, befriending both Steve and Robin and enjoying the laughs and customer horror stories you’d shared with them. They’d visit you, too, trying their hand at some of the arcade games and actually getting pretty good at them.

When you noticed some of the kids you saw at the arcade visiting the video store speaking with Steve and Robin with low tones and serious expressions, your curiosity got the best of you. And suddenly, you were immersed in the stories of the Upside Down - unbelievable, scary, but incredible stories.

Funny enough, as you dive deeper into the lake, Steve is thinking back to the first time you met, too.

"That's it, I'm going in," he says, staring at the water and shaking his head.

"Cool it, Romeo," Robin says. "It's been like ten seconds. Have some faith in her." Steve rolls his eyes at his friend’s incessant teasing about his crush on you.

"It's the monsters I don't have faith in, Robin," Steve complains.

Meanwhile, you had reached the bottom of the lake and encountered the red, otherworldly entrance to the dimension you’d heard so much about. If you weren’t underwater, you’d have gasped.

After swimming your way back up, your hands find the rim of the boat and you take in a big gulp of air. Steve is not much of a religious person, but when he sees you alive and well, he silently thanks God.

“So, there’s definitely a portal down there,” you breathe out, gazing between Steve, Eddie, Robin and Nancy, their faces lit up by the moon. The cold air presses up against your wet skin.

“Glad we settled that,” Steve says. “Get back in.”

“Yes, sir,” you chuckle. But when you set to lunge forward, instead, you feel a tight pressure around your leg. You let out a shriek before it pulls you down, filling your lungs with water.

Fear boils deep into your bones as you watch the surface get farther away, gasping for air but only gulping in water.

Once air reaches you again, it's thick and smoggy. You lie on your front on the hard, rocky ground, gasping to breathe. Heart pounding, you look up to see red skies and disjointed rocks.

Is this the Upside Down?

You find the strength to get on your knees, still gasping and feeling the sting of water in your nose and throat.

High-pitched shrieking startles you as horrifying bat-like creatures lunge right for you. Burning pain rips through your shoulder when you realize one the creatures has dug its teeth into your skin.

You scream out, grabbing for it and pulling it off, the pain gruesome and nearly debilitating. You stomp on it, missing a few times, but successfully knocking it out.

When you were pulled down, Steve didn't hesitate. He dove headfirst in the water, fully clothed, knowingly and urgently swimming down into the dangerous world you had been pulled into.

You hear your name being shouted and you frantically look around, finally landing on Steve.

"Duck!" he screams, and you obey, narrowly missing another demon bat.

Nancy, Robin, and Eddie appear shortly after, the group of you swinging and strangling and stomping the bats. In the tussle, you feel fangs dig into your leg above your ankle, and you choke out a sob, continuing to fight for your life.

Finally, the last bat lets out a spine-chilling groan, lifeless on the ground.

Heaving, you all walk towards each other to form a haphazard circle, your ankle and shoulder burning.

"You alright?" Steve asks, primarily looking at you.

"Never better," you breathe, wincing. The shrieks of demobats return and to your horror, a hoard of them appear in the sky nearby.

"Over there!" Nancy points. You all follow her lead, running into the dark woods. Unfortunately, your newfound injury makes you limp far behind, and when Steve notices how far back you are, he turns towards you.

He runs your way and scoops you up, cradling you in his arms. You brace his sweater for stability, cotton bunching up under your fingers. Steve pants as he runs and you look up at him, his eyebrows furrowed as he gazes ahead.

The five of you find shelter in the murky forest full of tangled, disjointed branches. Steve slowly lowers you, strong hands still on your waist as you find your footing.

You feel faint, but don't want to show it and cause panic. Sure enough, though, you can't hide it from Steve.

"Is it bad?" he asks, breath hot on your neck.

"It's not good," you admit.

"Is it your leg?" Robin asks. Steve rounds you, giving you a chance to put all your weight on your feet. The burning in your ankle is still vicious, and you're still a bit drowsy, but it doesn't hurt as bad to stand.

"I guess one of those things got me," you mumble, looking up from your foot to your shoulder. "Twice."

"You shouldn't have jumped in the water," Steve mumbles. You roll your eyes, but he doesn't notice as he’s too busy pulling his yellow sweater off of his shoulders, revealing his torso.

"If I didn't jump, you would've," you answer. "So what difference does it make?" He gazes at the blood on your shoulder, the ash over your face, and it pains him to his core to see you so wounded.

Steve steps closer to you, looking down at his sweater as he rips it.

"I'd rather be the one cut up like this than you," Steve says at a volume only loud enough for you to hear.

"What kind of survival instinct is that, Harrington?" you tease. You look up at Robin to share an amused look, but she's only looking at you two empathetically.

"We'll catch up," Steve calls back to the other three over the sound of fabric ripping in his hands. "Just don't walk too fast."

Robin only shrugs in agreement and slowly makes her way in the forest with Nancy and Eddie.

Screeching and howling in the distance fills your ears as Steve takes one half of the sweater in his hands, the other tucked under his elbow.

"But that was such a nice sweater," you say quietly, trying to earn a smile from Steve. It doesn't take.

"I don't care about the sweater," he says.

You're close enough to see the wrinkles his forehead makes when he winces as he wraps the fabric around your shoulder. The pressure against the wound stings, and you recoil.

"Shit, sorry," he says. "We just have to put pressure on it, okay?"

"I know," you whisper, nodding quickly. "Do what you have to do."

He tightens the fabric around your arm up to your shoulder, tying a knot at your shoulder blade. You find a place to focus your eyes, and it just so happens to be his chest, peppered with tufts of hair.

Then your eyes travel up to his face. His very concerned looking face.

"Steve, jeez, you look..." Worried isn't quite the word. It's not strong enough. "Distraught. It's okay! I didn't die."

"You got hurt, though," he answers, bending down with the other half of the fabric, investigating the gash on your ankle. "Can you hold onto me?"

You oblige, moving your good arm to grip his firm, naked shoulder. You stare down at Steve, hair tousled, as he creates a tourniquet around your ankle.

Finally, Steve rises to his feet, towering over you with frantic eyes.

"Thanks for patching me up," you say. "Now stop looking so worried."

"(Y/N), we care about you, okay?" he says quietly. "I care about you. I can't... I can't see you get hurt." Steve sighs, cupping your shoulders, grip loose on the bad shoulder. "You don’t see how much you matter to me? Don't you get it?"

His eyes skitter away, then return to yours. Steve's so close, smelling of sweat and cologne.

"Get what?" you ask.

Your eyes travel his face, waiting for an indication of what he's talking about.

"I don’t know when I wanted to do this but this is definitely not the time. We should go," Steve says, words rushed. He’s nervous. You’ve never seen Steve nervous. "Are you okay to walk?"

The confusion of the last five seconds sends your head spinning, so all you can do is nod. No need for Steve to carry you again, no matter how comforting it was. And no need to make a joke about it, because whatever happened between you just shifted everything.

How much you matter to him? This isn’t the time? What the hell is he talking about?

Sure, you’d been friends for a few months now and of course a person cares about their friends, but as you make your way through the woods, careful not to roll your ankle, you can’t get the soft, meaningful way Steve was looking at you out of your head.

Steve marches in front of you, listening for your footsteps to make sure you’re okay, but unable to bear turning around to look at you again. He's too nervous that he's ruined everything with you.

As much as he likes you, your obliviousness has frustrated him to no end.

Whenever he’d ask to hang out outside of work, you’d ask if Robin was coming, too. Whenever he complimented you, you’d roll your eyes and assume he was joking. Whenever he’d go above and beyond to show he cared about you, you’d smile in that sweet way you always did, too stubborn to see that he was falling for you.

Robin had been telling him to just give it to you straight. But right now? In this squalid forest in the Upside Down? Not the time to just spill it out to you.

You stare at his bare back as you follow him, watching the dips and valleys of his muscles, and you’re not sure if he’s mad or just stressed out. You feel like you’re missing an important piece to the puzzle, but you’ve searched everywhere and the piece simply isn’t there.

“Hey, guys,” Eddie says as you approach the group. “Anyone know how much longer we have to walk through literal hell?”

“We’re close,” Nancy says matter-of-factly.

“(Y/N), you alright?” Robin asks, eyes darting between you and Steve. He finally turns around, concerned eyes boring into you.

“Yeah,” you say. “Thank you, Steve.”

He gives you a genuine smile, albeit small, and turns back around. Robin meets your eyes again and you mouth “I don’t know” to her with a shake of your head. She looks like she wants to say something, but doesn’t.

When you reach the Wheeler house, you’re grateful to see that at least couches exist in this alternate dimension. At this point, the ache in your ankle is sharp again, and you desperately need a break.

As the others go upstairs and explore the house, you sink into the living room couch and trying to even your breathing. Guilt finds its way into your core when you think back to Steve’s frantic eyes and shaking hands. He was terrified for you.

A minute passes, and when you hear the four of your group members talking upstairs, you grab the armrest, pushing yourself up onto your feet. The break helped.

As you go towards the noise to find the group, quick footsteps hammer down the stairs and you get to the staircase to find that Steve has just reached the bottom.

“Hey, you alright?” he asks.

“Just took a little break,” you say. “Steve, I’m sorry that I scared you.”

“Hey,” Steve whispers. He can’t take the sad expression on your face - the way your mouth turns down and the way your eyelids drop kills him. “You didn’t do anything wrong. There’s nothing to apologize for. I’m sorry I freaked out.”

You swallow hard and nod, looking up the staircase in the dark, musky house.

“You can hold my hand if you want to,” Steve says gently, and you take it without hesitation, his palm calloused and warm. Your heart races at the intimate gesture.

When you make it to the bedroom, Robin takes note of you and when her eyes dart to your hand clasped in Steve’s, you swear that she smiles for a second.

Being guided by Dustin’s echoing voice from the world you’re desperately trying to get back to, the five of you stare at an orb of light, debris floating menacingly. You kneel in front of the light, and when you lose grip with Steve’s hand, you’re surprised to realize how empty you feel without his touch.

After staring at the light for a few moments, an idea pops into your head.

“Trace with your finger,” you say quietly to nobody in particular, and when Nancy tries and it works, the others gasp in disbelief.

“Good one, arcade girl,” Robin says, amazed. You grin at your friend.

When you realize you have to make it to Eddie’s trailer, dread fills your body. You’re not sure if you can walk again. But when you discover that you can bike there, you’re much more up for the task. You make it to the trailer soon after, relieved knowing you’re one step closer to getting home.

Breaking any and all laws of physics, the five you climb and somehow fall at the same time into the right version of the world. Breathing in normal air brings you a wave of comfort.

You all take a second to inhale and exhale and let it sink in that you’ve made it back. You gaze up at the portal that separates you from the terrifying world you’d been attacked in.

Then, you look to your aching shoulder to see that your blood has soaked through Steve’s sweater. Dread crawls up your back. Your impulse is find Steve’s eyes next, and when you do, you see that he’s chewing on his bottom lip as he stares at your shoulder.

“(Y/N) needs to get to the hospital,” Steve announces, more so to himself than anyone else. You’ve been successfully softening the magnitude of your injuries, but now, seeing that much blood and feeling as faint as you feel, you can finally agree with Steve’s uneasiness.

“Get them home,” Steve says to Robin, Steve, and Eddie, motioning to the kids. “And I’ll get her to a doctor.”

“Steve, the neighbor two trailers down has one of those magnet key boxes,” Eddie says, glancing between you two. “Under his front left tire. I’ve... taken it for a spin a few times. I swear, the old guy sleeps like a rock. He’s never caught me.”

“We can’t steal someone’s car,” you say, wary.

“We’ll borrow it,” Steve says, nodding to Eddie. “We’ll take anything we can get now. You need a doctor.”

You’re too tired to argue.

“And you probably need a shirt, dingus,” Robin comments. Steve looks down and nods quickly, so distracted by your state of need that he can’t think of anything else.

After Eddie lends Steve a plain black t-shirt, the two of you pace to the neighbor’s Ford in silence. You settle into the pick-up truck, feeling throbbing in your shoulder.

“How’s the ankle?” Steve asks once he slides into the driver’s seat. The engine comes to life when he turns the key.

“Better than the shoulder,” you say.

Steve exhales deeply, and when you glance over at him, you notice his hands are shaking on the steering wheel.

The two of you make it out of the neighborhood and onto a main road that you recognize.

He’s scared. He’s so, so scared. In the Upside Down - hell, even in the Russians’ bunker, he was more calm than he is now. He can’t stand to see you in danger like this.

Street lamps plunge you in and out of light.

The pain and the fatigue hits you like a train, and you feel hot tears build in your eyes. You can’t hold them back and they slip down your cheeks, letting out quiet sniffles.

"Oh no, baby, please don’t cry,” Steve whispers, the pet name slipping out and immediately embarrassing him. “We've got like... not even ten minutes, okay?"

"I'm just tired," you mumble.

"It's okay. We're getting you to a hospital. It's okay."

In his time working at Family Video, Steve had seen his fair share of drama films. And one thing he remembers about when someone is seriously injured: keep them talking.

"Talk to me about something else," Steve tells you. "Anything."

"I'm really glad I have tomorrow off," you mumble. It makes Steve chuckle, and you smile to yourself. "Finally, I get you to laugh. You've been so serious all night. It's unlike you."

You think back to how courageous Steve was in the Upside Down. He was like an action hero.

"But seriously, you were kind of amazing down there, Harrington," you mumble honestly.

Steve feels his cheeks get warm. How can you say things like that and not realize what it does to him?

"Yeah, I know," he quips, making a right turn. Only a few blocks left.

"Humble as always," you mumble, feeling your eyelids getting heavier. Steve looks over at you.

"Do me a favour?" he says.

"Hmm?"

"Keep your eyes open?"

You sigh, forcing your eyes open.

"Yes, sir," you tease.

"So, what would you have done tomorrow? With your day off? Tell me everything you're thinking." Steve asks.

"I was planning on catching up on sleep," you tell him. You think of your home. Your bed. Your mom works nights, so you'd probably wake up when she's already back home and sleeping. At least you know she left for work before you set out of the house tonight, so she has no idea that you spent your evening fighting inter-dimensional monsters.

"I'd have a quiet morning," you continue. "My mom would already be back in bed, so I'd watch the tv on low. Then I was thinking of dropping by Hawkins' best video store."

"Best, huh?" Steve asks. He loves when you come into store. Hearing the door jingle and looking to see you walking through it always gives him happy goosebumps.

"I know a guy. Gives all the best recommendations."

"Sounds... not true."

"Okay, yeah, I lied," you say. "But his boss knows all the girls come in just to see him so he keeps him around."

"They do?" Steve chuckles.

"Don't play clueless, Harrington," you tease, fighting to keep your eyelids up.

Steve shakes his head to himself. If only you knew how clueless you were about how much he likes you.

"How's it driving?" you ask.

"Higher up than I'm used to," Steve answers with a nervous chuckle. He goes through a green light. "But okay."

"It smells like peanuts in here," you say. Steve laughs. "Hey, you said to tell you everything I'm thinking."

"I'm glad you are," Steve says.

"I can't believe that this car is stolen right now."

"Borrowed."

"You stole a car for me," you say.

"I'd do anything for you," Steve replies.

This sends your heart fluttering. Even in your drowsy state, you recognize the weight of his words.

"Remember when we met and I rented out that movie just to make you look good to Keith?" you ask.

"I was thinking about that actually," Steve says. "Earlier tonight." He thinks back to watching the water in Lovers Lake, praying you'd come back up to the surface.

"You said you owed me one."

"Yeah?"

"With everything you did tonight, consider it paid back. Like, tenfold."

"All I did tonight was freak out," Steve says.

One thing you know for sure about Steve after months of being friends with him: he likes to pretend to be cocky, but in reality, he can never take credit for how good of a guy he is.

"We're here," he announces, pulling into the hospital parking lot. You breathe a sigh of relief.

After checking in and claiming it was a stray dog that attacked you - "close enough", Steve had said to you privately - you were waiting in the small hospital room.

You assumed Steve would've wanted to stay in the waiting room, but he offered to come with you, and it made you feel much less nervous.

You sit at the end of the hospital bed, and Steve is settled in a chair a few feet away from you, leg shaking rapidly. You look at him, his brown hair hanging over his forehead, chin resting in his hand, concerned eyes glued to you. His jeans and shoes are dirty and look funny with the clean borrowed t-shirt. You stare at each other, wordless.

In this moment, Steve can't think of anything more important in this world than you.

"So we got a dog bite here?" you hear a voice. You look up to see a woman in a lab coat enter through the door, with a nurse following close behind.

"Ye- yes," you mumble.

"Okay, let's take a look."

You peel off the soaked, ripped sweater Steve had given you, wincing at the pain. The doctor quickly examines it and looks at you.

Steve watches, heart ripped in two.

"You'll need stitches and antibiotics," the doctor explains to you. "We have anesthesia so the area will be numbed, alright?" the doctor explains.

"Okay," you repeat.

After the wound is cleaned and the numbing gel is applied, you look to Steve again. Remembering what he said back in the Upside Down in the Wheelers' home, you give him a weak smile.

"You can hold my hand if you want to," you say to him. Steve exhales with a smile, standing next to you, fingers interlacing with yours.

You don't look when the doctor puts in the stitches. After they check out your ankle and determine it doesn't need stitches, they clean and wrap it in gauze. The doctor then does a general check-up and determines that your blood loss level doesn't require extra attention, so you're okay to go home.

"But drink water and stay off your feet," she instructs. "And I'll see you soon to get those stitches out." The doctor looks to Steve. "Make sure she takes it easy and takes her antibiotics, okay?"

He nods with a serious expression, taking his mission to heart.

When you exit the hospital and get back into the pick-up truck, Steve takes a moment to hold his head in his hands and sigh deeply.

"I like you so much," he says quietly. He can't keep it in any longer.

You swallow hard, staring at him. His head is still in his hands, fingers in his messy hair.

"Wh- what?" Your voice is small. Disbelieving.

Steve drops his hands to his lap and looks at you. In the dark pick-up truck, the shadows aren't too stark, but you wish you could see his eyes better. See if what he's telling you really is true.

"I thought it was so obvious." He half-chuckles. Your eyes travel over his face. The weird comments about you not getting it, his anxiety over your injuries, the way he takes care of you. It all makes sense. The last puzzle piece clicks into place.

Your stomach numbs at your friend's confession. He likes you. And within the next millisecond, you realize you like him back.

"Watching you get hurt... I can't explain it, (Y/N). It kills me," he says. "I care about you so much. I can't keep it in anymore."

"Why did you?" you ask with a smile. "Keep it in, I mean."

"Waiting for the right moment?" he explains. "Waiting for you to see it yourself?"

"You'd be waiting forever," you tell him. "I'm clueless." Steve chuckles, dipping his head. "I'm clueless and I like you, too."

His head darts up - eyes big and smile bigger.

"Yeah?" Steve's tone is adorably excited.

"I thought it was so obvious," you tease. "Are you going to kiss me or what?"

He's gentle when his lips find yours. No matter how hungry he is for this, for you, no matter how long he's wanted to kiss you, he's soft and slow with it. He wants to take his time, especially because you're injured.

His mouth is warm, a wonderful change from the cold bitterness of everything that took place tonight.

To Steve, kissing you is unlike how he imagined. It's somehow even better. And while he kisses you, he knows when he says he likes you, he really means love. But he'll save that word for a time when you've wrapped your head around everything that's happened tonight.

Steve pulls back, forehead pressed against yours, eyes closed.

"Sorry I'm clueless," you whisper. Steve laughs the sweetest laugh.

"Can I be your boyfriend?" he asks. Your heart swells.

"Yes," you reply, unable to think of any better way to say it.

"I want to stay here forever, but you need sleep and medication," he whispers back.

"Yes, sir," you sarcastically scoff.

Steve smiles below the next kiss he gives you and pulls back to start the car.

The entire ride home, you stare at your boyfriend's profile. He squints as he drives, previously shaky hands now steady. One hand is on your knee, and you hold it tightly, knowing that whatever is to come, you have someone looking out for you.

#fic #steve harrington imagine #steve x reader #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington fan fic #steve harrington fanfiction #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x y/n #stranger things #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things imagine #steve and reader #steve and y/n #steve harrington and reader #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington imagines

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seat-safety-switch · 9 months

Text

For a couple years, I worked in a video store in a small town. In many ways, this was the culmination of a childhood dream: routine, unchallenging labour. If you were a particularly annoying labour analyst, all I actually ever “did” was ring up rentals, restock returns in the morning, and clean the windows. Customer service has its own way of filling the space left by the actual work, though.

People who have worked retail are a sort of elite corps. For one thing, you’re never rude to another retail employee for the entire rest of your life. You’ve been in the trenches, too, and even if you somehow managed to escape, you’d still have had that shared trauma to know how bad that shift could get for that shelf-stocker at Maybe’s Drugs off I-40.

I have all the usual complaints, but there’s something else, too. My unique problem is this: I had this one customer who came in every Monday morning, asking for the same movie. We never had that movie, which is the crux of our conflict. He – and I can’t remember his name anymore, even if the electroshock therapy had been effective – never took “no” for an answer, and would come back the next week. He’d ask for the same thing, by title. No other details: no barcode, no publisher, no actors. Not even a description of the plot (he hadn’t seen it yet, obviously.) Now, this was before broadband internet was widely available, so I’d have to dial up after hours to America Online, and see if the movie had been added to their database. It never did, except one night I saw some folks talking about it in a video store chat room.

Their customers, too, were asking for this film. Insistently. After talking about it that night, we decided that we would form a bit of a trade union group. If any of us heard anything on this mysterious VHS, we would share the knowledge with the rest of the group. That retail-worker camaraderie at work again, you see. Nothing ever came of it, but I did end up becoming good friends with a manager at a Hobart’s Movies in Ames, Iowa, and we were even roommates for awhile before he got a new job at Seaworld. I moved on, too, making my slow, but inevitably in retrospect, drift towards the coast. Still, the whole thing bothered me. For years afterward, I would turn on my computer every Monday night, long after I had left the job, and search for any clue as to the existence of this film.

Once, on a day off, I called a librarian, who got pissy at me for even asking about it, and demanded to know who had put me up to calling her as a prank. I hung up in a panic, but she called back for hours. Obviously, she was also undergoing the same situation, and I felt shame at having brought a momentary pain to another proud Retail-American.

Now, video rental stores are a thing of the past. Even in small towns, they have been reduced to just a fond memory and an abandoned corner of a strip mall. Maybe my customer’s quest doesn’t matter anymore. The aggregation of the world’s knowledge into one hissing, unseen beast at the centre of our collective technological hallucination is complete. If they don’t have it, pick a different one. All I know is that, one day, someone will find a copy of this movie, and I’ll be able to go back to that town and shove it in the ground where the video store once stood. On that day, I can finally rest, freed from the slavedriver that is Mr. Magoo’s Christmas Carol.

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yesimwriting · 2 years

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Movie Club

UPDATE: Chapter Two

A/N this is my stranger things era!!

Pairing: Steve Harrington x reader

Summary: There’s just something about the girl that comes into the video rental store every Wednesday evening. Too bad that ‘something’ makes all of that ‘be yourself’ game he has fly out the window until Robin gives him the push he needs.

Warnings: canon level mentions of violence/eeriness, minor season 4 episode 1 spoilers, (maybe bleeds into episode 2 a little if you squint), mentions of death, fem!reader

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Narrator’s POV

The bell attached to the door that customers walk in and out of rings. Steve’s posture instinctually straightens as his head sharply turns in that direction. His job at Hawkins’ Family Video store isn’t one that demands this much attention, especially on a Wednesday afternoon, but this is the one time of week he knows he’s going to see her.

Wednesday at a little after 5:00, depending on the time that cheer practice ends. She always walks in, the skirt of her uniform swaying as she flashes an even smile towards the counter. Some Wednesdays she approaches the front of the store before even browsing, grinning ear to ear with some story to tell Steve. These are the weeks that make every instinct he has melt out of his body. Then there are the Wednesdays in which she wanders the aisles, waiting for Steve to play the role of star employee, ready to help a customer find the perfect film. Those weeks steal the suave from his body, all coherent thoughts disappearing the moment they’re enclosed between aisles of VHS tapes.

Okay...maybe it’s not about what happens on Wednesdays. Maybe it’s just her. Who is he kidding? Of course it’s her. He knows it, Robin knows it (and won’t let him forget it)...and of course, even Dustin’s managed to figure it out. Steve can still remember the Wednesday Dustin decided to stop by Family Video and how Robin took all of two seconds to explain why Steve was so jumpy.

“It’s not her,” Robin hums, “Still too early.”

Steve sighs, forcing his eyes to drop to the floor. “I don’t--”

“Don’t pretend you don’t know what I’m talking about.” Robin turns away from the stack of new videos she’s supposed to be organizing. “She comes in every Wednesday around 5:00, and until you see her you’re a jumpy mess. Then you turn into an even worse mess.”

He’s defeated. There’s no way to pretend that he isn’t overly aware of the time. “We’re friends,” he admits, “I like catching up with her.”

“You mean you like when she comes in here, catches you up on everything in her life, and you stand there, like an idiot, either trying to string together a coherent sentence or figure out how to stop talking.”

Steve frowns. There’s not a good way to defend himself from the truth. “It is not like--”

“Come on, Steve, we’ve been here before.” Robin crosses her arms against her chest. “What happened to that ‘be yourself’, multiple dates a week attitude? What happened to wanting to find someone you actually felt something for?” She’s right, like always. Steve can’t quite react. “What--you finally figure out what you want and all of that goes out the window?”

“It’s not like that.”

“Then what is it like, Harrington?” She raises an eyebrow, angling her head to the side in a way that reminds him a little too much of their Scoops Ahoy days.

He takes a deep breath, wishing there was a clock in front of him. What time is it? There’s a good chance she’ll walk in while they’re still talking about it. “It’s just...” Steve pauses, struggling to find the words, “It’s complicated, okay?”

“Complicated?” Robin repeats, over pronouncing each syllable. “Being a girl that wants to ask out another girl is complicated. Being a guy that likes a girl who is always flirting with him is not. It is the exact opposite of complicated.”

Steve blinks. “You think she’s flirting with me?”

Robin groans, rolling her eyes. “For the hundredth time, yes! No cheerleader wants to spend this much of her senior year watching movies, and no girl with her grades has that much time to spare.”

“That’s exactly why it’s complicated,” Steve blurts out. “Her GPA’s basically perfect and she’s a part of so many extra curriculars, I don’t even know how she has time to have a conversation with me. There’s no way she she won’t go to some fancy school that’s hundreds of miles away.”

Steve expects some kind of pity to soften Robin, but her stare never wavers. “Wow...now that is complicated, it’s not like there’s still a month until the school year ends and then an entire summer for you two to establish a real relationship that would have to end the second she goes to college because no one ever invented something called a phone.” Robin draws her eyebrows together in mock thought. “And it’s not like she’d ever come back to Hawkins to at the very least visit her family, and friends, and maybe even the loser that works at Family Video that won’t just ask her out already.”

Robin won’t let this go until Steve admits the one thing he’s always fighting to not think about. “She comes in every Wednesday, and returns the video every morning on her way to school. That means she watches them on Wednesday nights--not Fridays, Saturdays, or even Sundays. Wednesday night is her movie night.”

“I think we’ve established that.”

Steve presses his lips together, something in his stomach twisting. He has only one argument left, but something about using it doesn’t feel right. Opening his mouth feels like preparing to lose a molar. “The only kind of people that have regular, without fail, standing, middle of the week movie nights are people in relationships.” He takes a deep breath. “There’s no way someone like her doesn’t already have a boyfriend, anyway. So just--just forget it, okay? We have our Wednesday routine, and it’s--”

“Better than nothing?” Robin finishes, a tinge of sympathy finally coloring her attitude. Steve stays silent, part of him wishing he would have just put. up with some teasing. “Steve, I don’t know if she has a boyfriend, and I don’t know if other guys like her.” Robin blinks, reconsidering her words. “Actually--I know other guys like her, but either way, that doesn’t matter. The way she looks at you, the way she talks to you--she likes you.”

With his back against the counter, Steve pauses, trying not to consider Robin’s words. Is she right? Could there be more to their weekly banter as he pretends to not know where the newest videos are? He opens his mouth, still unsure on what to say.

“Y/n.” Robin breaks eye contact. She’s staring at something past Steve’s shoulder. He must have been so lost in thought he didn’t hear the bell.

Steve attempts to turn smoothly, but the way he twists is awkward. He sticks out his arm to stop himself from falling. Y/n is staring at Robin, a little confused as to why Robin just shouted out her name.

“Y/n,” Robin continues, “You--you’re um-a little early.”

Y/n draws her eyebrows together, a little confused by Robin’s energy. It’s not like the two have never interacted, but that much enthusiasm over her appearance isn’t adding up. “Yeah, the freshmen cheerleaders caught onto the routine way faster than usual, so coach let us out little early. I think she’s going easy on us because...well, you know.”

Something dark clouds her face and Steve instantly feels something twist in his stomach. Y/n is talking about Chrissy. Right now, Hawkins is grappling for answers, and Steve knows more than most. He knows that the police’s prime suspect is just as confused as the rest of them and all he did was witness it. Guilt roots itself in his chest and he’s not sure why. Even if he could tell Y/n what he knows, it wouldn’t help. It would force her into a world of danger and bring more questions than answer.

“You two were friends, right?” Steve manages, voice low. “You mentioned her in a couple stories.”

Y/n nods once absentmindedly. “Yeah, and I just--I keep replaying our last conversation. I was going to have some people over, and when I asked Chrissy she turned me down even though I told her I’d invite that guy she’s been trying to set me up with for weeks.”

His mind shouldn’t go where it does, but Steve can’t help it. A boy--another boy that Y/n invited into what was clearly a party but she’s pretending it wasn’t. Did she still invite him after Chrissy said no? And Chrissy said no--that has to be weird, right? That’s something that he should tell Dustin. Robin elbows him from beneath the check out counter, making him realize another point he shouldn’t have dismissed so quickly. If her friend has been trying to set Y/n up for weeks, that not only means that she doesn’t have a boyfriend, it means that she doesn’t want one. Or, at least, she doesn’t want whatever high school superstar Chrissy was trying to set her up with.

It’s no secret that Steve’s done the popular in high school thing. Even if someone doesn’t feel like they have time for a relationship, they date. No one doesn’t date for no reason. Does she like someone?

“Something was wrong, and I just keep thinking that if I had pressed a little more, maybe Chrissy would have told me, and--”

“You can’t blame yourself for something like that.” He wishes there was a way he could tell her how much it’s not her fault. Chrissy wasn’t a victim in the way that Y/n thinks. “Bad things have been happening in Hawkins for awhile.”

Y/n nods again, unconvinced. “Yeah.” Her hands move forward, smoothing the skirt of her uniform. “I’m going to try to find a copy of Pretty in Pink.” There’s something stiff about Y’n’s dismissal. “It feels weird to be watching a movie, but my sister has been begging to see it since it came out.”

Without another word, Y/n turns down the romantic comedy section. As soon as she’s no long visible, Robin lets her eyes go wide.

“Her sister,” Robin whispers, “Her movie nights are with her sister, she doesn’t have a boyfriend, and she’s been turning down guys for weeks.”

Steve’s stomach has never somersaulted this much in his life. He tries to swallow but his mouth has gone try. “She’s--”

Robin reaches over to the pile of long forgotten returned movies. She holds up the tape she was looking for. Pretty in Pink. “Go,” she waves him over, handing him the VHS.

Okay...now or never, right?

----

Y/n’s POV

Am I in the mood to watch a romantic comedy? It doesn’t matter. Nothing about what I want to do feels like it matters. Everything makes me feel guilty. Each class I take, each game I go to, is something that Chrissy didn’t get to do. Everything I do is something she’s never going to get to do.

Not only did she die, she experienced something brutal. In fifth period, her boyfriend told me the police officers didn’t even let her parents see Chrissy’s face. Who could have done something that terrible to her? That freak Eddie in that Hellfire cult, is what Chrissy’s boyfriend said.

I’m not sure I believe him. Sure, he’s been held back for as long as I can remember and whatever his friend group does makes like no sense to me, but being a little weird doesn’t make someone a murderer. Besides, my physics teacher assigned him as my lab partner. I’ve talked to him. He’s eccentric, a little loud, and in no way a friend of mine, but he’s not like those guys on the news. I really doubt he’s some kind of beginner Ted Bundy, and until there’s actual evidence, I don’t think I should be scared of him. I’m not going to go out of my way to wave at him in the halls, but I’m not hoping for his arrest either.

I just want answers...and to find this movie so that I can get home. It feels weird to do something so mundane, but my sister knew Chrissy, and she’s freaked out. The last thing she needs is a stray from routine, especially since I worked so hard to make sure we spend some time together my senior year. That’s a good excuse, but I’d be lying if I didn’t admit a part of my adamance is the excuse to regularly see the guy that always has the Wednesday afternoon shift.

That weird fluttering feeling in my stomach that I feel whenever I see Steve Harrington is the one part of me that hasn’t changed throughout high school. None of my current friends ever acknowledge this, but the start of high school was nowhere near as easy as the end of it. I may be a cheerleading co-captain that’s definitely going to be nominated from prom queen now, but freshman year me used to spend free period making friends with the librarians. I’ve changed so much, and yet I can’t let go of Steve Harrington.

It’s ridiculous. Sure, he’s nice to me now, but it’s because I run into him at work. I also don’t doubt the fact that 17-year-old me is a lot less of an awkward weirdo than I was when we were in the same chemistry class. Ugh...I shouldn’t even be thinking about this. Chrissy’s dead and my sister is waiting for me at home.

I take my time scanning the movies in the romance aisle, a part of me hoping that Steve might come over here. He’s normally always coming up to me in order to either help me find movies or recommend something. It’s just a part of his job, but I can’t help the way the extra opportunity to talk to him makes me feel.

My eyes are still looking over film titles on the third shelf when I feel it again. Cold sweat against my neck and the palms of my hands. My stomach is a rock. Not again, not here. I take a deep breath, trying to read the titles in front of me but everything’s blurred. I blink and blink, but nothing clears up. The colors swirl together, and I’m no longer looking at movies. The pictures aren’t titles, they're depicting horror. Monsters with sharp teeth, bloody bodies, and broken people.

Has the lighting in here always been like this? So flushed and blue tinted and haunting--

Okay, breathe. Just br--

“Y/n...” The voice that whispers my name is gruff yet attempting to be soft. My skin crawls. “Y/n.” It’s coming from the other aisle. Something shifts. A shadowy image is peaking around the corner of the aisle. It’s tall and skewed the way a broken bone is. “Y/n.” It takes another step towards me.

My hand rests on a shelf, my knuckles turning white due to my grip. One more step and it will round a corner. I squeeze my eyes shut with all I have.

Something makes contact with my shoulder. My body turns, almost slamming into the shelf my hand was on. Forcing my eyes to focus, I see Steve. He’s withdrawn his hand, letting it linger in the air between us like his silent concern. I take a deep breath, the air settling in me like it’s supposed to.

Oh--I can breathe again. I blink twice. The lights no longer seem cold and the movie titles are once again just that. I turn my head as casually as I can manage. There is no longer a shadow peering around the corner.

I’m losing it, and I’m losing it in front of Steve. Chrissy’s death was a tragedy, but I don’t think grief makes people hallucinate things like that. What the hell am I seeing?

“Uh--Steve.” My words are more to myself than to him. Everything is normal and I don’t believe it. “Sorry, I’m jumpy today.” I scratch the back of my arm. “The whole Chrissy thing has messed with my head a little.” His eyes are soft, sympathetic. Great--a whole school year’s worth of process washed away. He’s thinks I’m crazy. There has to be a way to save this. “You should have seen me in English today after Tammy Thompson dropped a pencil that rolled under my desk.” The awkward laugh that follows my rambles might haunt me more than my hallucination.

Steve almost smiles. “This kind of stuff can mess with anyone’s head.” He lifts his other hand. “You said you were looking for Pretty in Pink, and our last copy was up front.”

Okay--everything is normal. He’s just doing his job. I don’t know what that makes me deflate a little. “Oh--thank you. My sister’s gonna love this.”

He nods, tapping his fingers against the side of the tape. “No problem.”

Steve turns, giving me some space to walk next to him. I’m glad for the excuse to get out of this aisle. I’d rather talk to him by the check out counter where nothing bad has happened to me.The farther I get from that corner, the safer I’ll feel.

Our hands dangle at our sides. It would take nothing for our fingers to touch. Steve walks away from me, letting the likely one-sided tension disappear as he settles behind the counter.

“I think it’s nice that you watch movies with your sister.”

My nails tap against the counter. “Yeah, she just started her freshman year and I’m graduating. I wanted to make sure we spent some time together this year. It’s been nice, but sometimes I miss being able to watch more action-y stuff. I used to be really into scary movies but now none of my friends want to watch them with me.”

"I can imagine why.”

He’s trying to make a joke, but what happened earlier hasn’t left my mind yet. I try to laugh it off with my reply. “I can’t blame my friends, I did always end up all over them.”

“Hey, Steve,” Robin says, “We’re going to need to reorganize the new releases before Friday because that’s when we’re supposed to get that new Poltergeist movie.”

Steve doesn’t even look towards the tapes that Robin is sorting through. “We just need to move the oldest from the new release section to--”

“The new Poltergeist movie is coming this Friday,” Robin repeats, words a little more emphasized than before, “A lot of people are going to want to watch it, so I think it’s important that we schedule a time to make it easier for people to find it.”

Steve finally turns his head towards her. “Oh.Yeah, I’ll check the display after I finish up here.”

“You know, I never even saw the first Poltergeist.”

There is no way. “You work at Family Video and you’ve never seen Poltergeist?”

My surprise must be as obvious as it feels because he pauses. “I just never got around to it.”

“’Never got around to it,’” I practically gasp, “That movie broke box office records when it first came out. I am seriously doubting every recommendation you’ve ever made to me.”

“I have a good taste!”

“Debatable.”

He raises an eyebrow, “Well, if it’s such a big deal, maybe you should watch with me.” I freeze more sharply than I mean to. Did he just ask me to do something? Like actually do something? “So that you can have proof that I watched it and my recommendation credibility can be restored.”

“Y-yeah.” Really--something that I’ve wanted for four years just happened and my reaction was the word ‘yeah’. “I’d feel a lot better taking your movie recommendations knowing that you’ve at least seen Poltergeist.”

The corner of Steve’s mouth turns upwards. “How’s Friday? My shift ends at 6:00 and I can put aside a copy of the sequel. Technically, not supposed to reserve merchandise, but I think I can get away with it.”

Two movies?! Okay--act calm. It’s not like I haven’t been asked out before, and I don’t even think this is a date. “You’ve got a bit of bad boy streak, Steve Harrington.”

Since when am I this awkward? Steve leans against the counter. “I won’t tell if you don’t.”

Calm. Act calm. He scans Pretty in Pink and hands it over. “Deal.”

----

Narrator’s POV

Y/n walks out the door with her weekly movie like she has every week, but something’s different.

Steve Harrington has plans with Y/n L/n. Steve Harrington has what could easily be considered a date with the girl he’s spent months pining over.

Robin and Steve turn to face each other after Y/n steps out of the store. The two high five.

“I did it!”

“More like I did it.”

----

first time writing for Stranger Things!! This took longer than I thought, and I still have enough ideas to make a part 2,, so if you enjoyed this, let me know!

#steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #stranger things #stranger things x reader #st4 #stranger things four #stranger things season four #netflix stranger things #stranger things imagine

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lance-thunder-reporting-live · 7 months

Text

Good morning Amity Park, I'm your ghostly weatherman, Lance Thunder. Today's Friday, September 29, and there’s a 10% chance of rain. Highs are in the low seventies and lows are in the high fifties.

The paraceratherium ghost was guarded from the Fentons until 7:52 last night when it disappeared. It is unknown if it teleported or became invisible, but the Fentons were unable to capture it.

The APMADI, or Amity Park Moms Against Demonic Imagery are protesting outside Blockbuster Video. They say that they are against the video rental store for renting out Cars, a movie released by Disney and Pixar earlier this year. They say that this movie is of the devil and should not be viewed by children. Employees of Blockbuster Video have been doing their best to ignore this group.

The Fentons will likely be driving today.

#danny phantom #lance thunder #unreality #daily report #09/29/06

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halloweenhoneylover · 2 years

Text

slow going

summary: things have been weird between reader and steve and they’re trying to figure out how to not be weird (steve harrington x fem!reader)

word count: 10.2k (holy shit)

warnings: fluff, angst, smut (fingering, fem receiving oral, penetrative sex) (don’t read if you’re under 18!!!!!)

author’s note: still trying to get a handle on steve’s character, but i’m too obsessed w him to not write anything. i apologize in advance for the excessive use of run-on sentences and polysyndeton, but i don’t apologize for establishing steve as the king of consent. also first time writing smut pls be nice!!!!

if you’d like you can read the prequel to this, here

The tinkling of chimes alerted Steve to the presence of a new patron in Family Video. It had been a long evening of little action, no hordes of teenage boys wreaking havoc or families perusing for weekly movie nights. Likely it was due to the massive storm that had rolled in, rain pouring down in sheets and thunder that seemed to shake the foundations. June rain always came heavy like Genesis and rebirth in Hawkins. But the town was unfortunately unable to boast of the most state of the art infrastructure, and driving on those roads in this kind of weather was a perilous task that few braved. Steve was not excited to drive home at the end of his shift in an hour if this kind of weather persisted, but he didn’t mind the lack of customers; it offered some peace and quiet to log rentals and categorize incoming tapes.

The sound of the door opening drew his attention away from the computer, ready to launch into his corporate-mandated greeting, but the words died in his throat at the sight of a long-time friend and short-term stranger dripping on the store’s welcome mat.

“[Y/N],” he murmurs gently, unsure of how to acknowledge your unexpected appearance.

“Hi, Steve.” A small smile rests on your lips, feeling coy and unfamiliar under his gaze. A relatively new feeling with Steve.

Determined to disperse the tension that had solidified almost instantaneously, he shakes his head and forces congeniality. “Dude, you’re soaking. Did you walk here?”

Still recovering from the sight of him, you stammer slightly, “Uh, no. I—uh, I biked.”

“You biked?”

As if only just realizing you were totally wet to the bone, you look down at your jacket sleeves sheepishly. “Yeah, I thought the storm was dying down.” You meet his gaze again. “It wasn’t.”

Steve can’t help himself when he barks out a laugh. Faced with the ridiculousness of the situation, you can’t help yourself when you join him, giggles pouring out of you. And for a moment, you both forget that things have been really weird between the two of you and that neither of you know how to act around each other now, and you laugh for a moment, and it’s like old times. It’s like you never confessed your feelings, and it’s like he never left you on that curb alone. But memories of that chilly night in March seep back in, and the laughter dies. Things aren’t right between you, but it’s a little warmer than before.

“Well, is there anything I can help you with this fine evening?” Steve��s eyes are friendly, but his mind races with questions of why you came in tonight, and his veins are flooded with nostalgia and something else that he can’t really put finger on, but it feels eerily like regret.

“Maybe. Do you guys have Alien?”

The look he gives you is withering. “With the amount of times you’ve rented this movie, you probably could’ve bought it five times over.”

A mischievous grin paints your features. “Yeah, but there’s something fun about watching you get mad at the money I’ve wasted every time I rent it.”

He rolls his eyes at that and hops over the counter to steer you to the sci-fi section. Sure, you know where it is, you’ve been here countless times, but he has to do his due diligence as an upstanding employee of Family Video, right? “I’m not mad, I just know you’re smart, and it’s a shame to see you neglect those brain cells every time you do something stupid like rent your favorite movie instead of buy it.”

He pulls the familiar VHS case from the shelf and hands it to you, but you’re grinning up at him, and he feels something inside him shudder pleasantly. He chalks it up to the two and a half months he went without seeing you. And the thought of those months clouds his mind, and he clears his throat, curiosity getting the better of him.

“How have you gone almost three months without seeing this movie? Did you betray the Family Video name and rent it from the library?”

The way he says it, it sounds like a joke, but the fact that he had acknowledged your friendship hiatus dampens your mood greatly, and something like shame shines in your eyes. “No, I could never betray FV, heh. Just—uh—Ben didn’t really like sci-fi.”

Deep down, Steve feels his ribs crack and his stomach drop at the mention of Ben, your new boyfriend. Robin had let it slip sometime mid-April that you were seeing someone, and while he played it off very cool and unaffected, Steve had felt abandoned. Something he hadn’t expected to feel and definitely wasn’t allowed to feel when he had abandoned you first. He had known Ben in high school; they were on the swim team together. He was a sweet enough guy and maybe good-looking, but Steve never paid enough attention to much outside of himself to notice, but he sure was paying attention now.

“Ben didn’t like sci-fi,” he echoes faintly.

You swallow harshly, uncomfortable. “Yeah. I guess I didn’t want to like, push my interests onto him, or something like that.” You spout an awkward laugh to cover the weird moment of unanticipated vulnerability, but Steve’s eyes only soften with a glint of something you perceive as pity which you hate. “But um, we kinda broke things off, so….”

Steve’s eyebrows raise and his eyes search yours. “Oh. Uh, I’m—I’m sorry to hear that.”

“Yeah, thanks,” you muster weakly.

He clears his throat again before ducking around you back to the desk. “Let’s get you checked out then.”

It’s silent as he clicks away at the computer, and the quiet is unbearable. Your hands clutch the counter, and you look anywhere in the store but Steve. He sneaks a glance at you. You seem to be glowing in the orange neon light of the FV sign behind him, skin shiny with rainwater, and he’s always known you were pretty, but there’s something about seeing you for the first time in months, and it churns in his gut. He hits a button before handing you the tape.

“How much do I owe you?”

He swipes his hand noncommittally and shakes his head. “Nothing. This one’s on me.”

“Steve—”

“No, no, I insist.” He looks at you with sincerity and a terribly remorseful smile, and it silences you instantly. You wonder why he looks sorry.

“Okay.” It’s a near whisper.

Despite some tether to Steve that urges you to stay, to muddle through whatever weirdness resides between you, you start towards the door with a wave.

“Oh shit,” he says in a way that is too loud for all of the moments that preceded it. “It’s still pouring, and you biked. Do you want a ride?”

You hesitate a moment. “What time does your shift end?”

He glances at the clock on the wall before waving it off. “I’m supposed to get off at 10, but this place is a ghost town. Nobody came in hours before you, and I highly doubt anyone is gonna come by later in this shitstorm.”

You shift a little, your clothes waterlogged and heavy on your body. “I don’t want you to get in trouble….”

He scoffs, “There’s no way Keith’ll find out, unless you tell him.” And then he looks at you very seriously, but you can see the joke simmering behind the umber of his eyes. “[Y/N/N], are you gonna snitch on me?”

It’s your turn to scoff.

“See, there you go. I’ll be fine! Let me just grab my keys, and we can head out.”

He heads into a backroom, and you wait, clutching Alien close to your chest. Excitement bubbles in your chest, and then a weird discomfort leaks in when you become aware of the excitement. Excited for proximity, excited for closeness with Steve. I’m excited to see Steve because he is a dear friend who I have not seen in a long time, and I have missed him as a friend.

While cementing your new mantra, Steve bursts from the back with his keys dangling from his pointer finger and a vigor that you don’t quite understand. On the wall behind the desk, he flicks a switch and the illuminated Pretty in Pink poster on the wall and the neon Family Video lettering go dark. He jogs towards the door, opening it and gesturing you out politely, and you helplessly watch his mania, slightly confused but mostly entertained. “M’lady,” he sing-songs with the cheekiest grin.

Your face morphs into one of bemused disgust, and you stare at him as you walk out of the store. “You’ve been hanging out with Robin and Dustin too much.”

He shrugs casually. “They’re pretty much all I have now that—” he stops himself and grimaces with the knowledge of his slip-up. He doesn’t have to finish the sentence for you to know that it ends with now that we don’t hang out.

Guilt echoes in the cavity of your chest painfully, but you don’t really want to go back to painful silence, so you say, “They’re good company, though.” You smile at him, and he smiles back, but neither of you really feel it.

And maybe because you’re a masochist, you continue with a forced light tone, “You used to be on dates all the time. Is the female population of Hawkins not also good company still?”

He looks out to where the rain is still heaving with an unreadable expression. “I don’t—I don’t really go on many dates anymore.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah, I don’t know. Just got tired of it. None of them….” Steve tries to think of something to say that won’t give him away entirely because he can’t say none of them were you. That wouldn’t be fair. It wouldn’t be fair to you, who had laid your heavily guarded heart on full display for him on that crumbling asphalt, an offer that he had wrapped up nicely and handed right back. “None of them were right for me, I guess.”

You nod solemnly. “I hope you find your right one, Stevie.”

He looks down at you with a wounded expression and wide eyes, and you cannot understand why he looks like that, but you persist anyway. “I really do.”

The silence that follows is filled with mourning. Mourning for missed opportunities and the fickleness of chance. The air is thick, and neither can bring themselves to break it.

So, Steve nods, and with a gentle hand on your elbow, he ushers you to his car. You both scramble to find refuge from the rain, fumbling with the door handles, and by the time you’re sitting in the front seat, you’re both panting with the frantic effort.

“We can get your bike tomorrow.”

“Okay.”

He starts the car, and you expect him to pull away into the night, but instead, he sits with the engine running, staring straight ahead. Your brows knit with concern “Steve? Are you o—”

“Did you ever think Ben was your right one?”

The question shocks you into laughter, which has him frowning in confusion. “I don’t know.” You ponder for a moment. “I really don’t know! It was only a couple months, I don’t think you’re supposed to know after that long. He was cute and smart. He thought I was pretty, maybe.” The insecurity tacked on the end makes something in him buckle, wondering how someone could not be completely and utterly convinced that you are one of the prettiest people alive. “I don’t know. He was nice to me.” Your voice is feeble, and Steve can’t help the shame that floods his brain, thinking of the time that he most definitely wasn’t nice to you. And while he feels completely incapacitated, he nods slowly and puts the car in reverse.

He stretches a hand behind your headrest to see out the back as he reverses, but his closeness makes you ache as you stare up the length of his strong arm to his handsome face concentrated on driving. He takes his hand back to set the lever to drive, and you want to grab it, keep it close, set it on your thigh, your waist, your cheek, anything, but you remain still.

You drive in silence for a minute or two, listening to the rain and the beat of the windshield wipers before Steve summons the courage from somewhere he can’t understand and says, “Do you want to come over?”

It’s the second time tonight that he’s really shocked you, and he registers your shock before backpedaling. “You don’t have to, it’s just I live closer than you do, and I have some dry clothes you could borrow.” He grips the steering wheel for support before continuing. “And we haven’t seen each other in a while. I thought it’d be nice.” His breath is short, feels like he’s working really hard to reclaim everything that belongs in his lungs. “Plus, we could watch your movie. Sigourney Weaver’s hot.” He’s about to cringe, and then you laugh, and he wishes that was his only job, to make you laugh.

“Yeah, she is,” you murmur pensively. Steve can see you thinking, and his chest feels like it’s about to burst with the desperate hope flowering inside. You offer him another small smile before it widens graciously, and you nod your head.

“Yeah, that sounds fun.”

—

The sound of your footsteps upstairs jolts Steve with pangs of familiarity. He’s sitting on his kitchen counter, losing his mind, because it’s been a long while since you’ve been in his house, and he wants to make sure that you’ll come back sooner rather than later. Next to his head, the microwave hums and casts a honey-colored light on his face as the kernels inside it begin to burst. And before he knows it, it’s beeping, and your socked feet are padding down the stairs.

Grabbing a bowl, he pours the popcorn in and turns his head to see you lean against the doorframe. Your still damp hair has been pushed out of your eyes, and you’re wearing an old Hawkins High basketball sweatshirt of his and a pair of shorts he’d long forgotten about. You look clean and somewhat revived after shedding your previous outfit, and he feels like you fit here, smiling and gentle, wearing his clothes.

“Thanks for letting me change.”

“Of course, you were starting to look like a drowned cat.”

You chuckle again, and he has to tamp down the soaring of his heart at the sound.

“I was starting to feel like one too.”

You cast a few glances around the room, the home still so familiar but seeming somehow different this time around. Wordlessly, Steve grabs the bowl of popcorn and jerks his head towards the door to the basement, signaling you to go ahead. You snag the rented VHS from the counter, push open the door, and start trundling down the stairs. “How many times do you think this’ll be for you?” you call up after him.

“What do you mean?” He rounds the couch, setting down the popcorn and instinctively catching the VHS you toss his way.

Settling into the well-worn leather of the couch’s corner, you rest your legs on an ottoman pushed up against the couch. “How many times do you think you’ll have seen this movie now?”

He’s kneeling to put in the tape as he shakes his head with a tender smile and answers, “Hard to say. You made me watch this at least once a month for a year and half, but I’m bad at math, so I don’t know how many that is.” He doesn’t realize his teasing lands sourly, and when he turns to look at you again, you’ve crossed your arms defensively and retreated further into the couch with a sullen, thoughtful look. “Oh, no, I didn’t mean it like that. You didn’t make me; I really like Alien. You know, hot Sigourney Weaver.” He tries his joke again, but it doesn’t elicit the same reaction the second time around. You’re worrying your lip between your teeth, and he wishes you would stop because you have a bad habit of biting until you bleed.

Finally, you look up at him with big sorrowful eyes. “I’m sorry.”

Confused, Steve collapses onto the couch next to you, and his eyes search yours, all wide and shiny. “For what?”

Before he’s done looking, your eyes shift away, and he feels a little hollow without you looking at him. “I don’t know,” you whisper. “Being a bad friend, I guess. Forcing you to like all the stuff I like, being overbearing.” A beat. “We’re not very alike, are we?”

When your eyes meet his again, there are tears pooling at your waterline, and he feels his chest imploding at the sight, wishing with all his might for you to stop crying, especially when you did nothing wrong. “No, we’re not, but that doesn’t really matter. That’s what friends do: they watch their movies and listen to their music and go to their basketball games. I like things because you like them, and you’re my friend. It’s not overbearing, it’s love, ya know, it’s contagious.”

He’s seen the face you’re wearing before: all vast and exposed and defenseless, every emotion swimming plainly beneath your lashes, and your jaw tilting up like you want to be kissed, and you’re watching him like your life depends on it. He saw it on that night in March when he denied you, and now he thinks that he could never deny you anything if he tried, wonders how he ever denied you before. Slowly, he presses forward, gingerly nudging his nose into yours, silently asking permission. You close your eyes, and your lips part ever so slightly, so he closes the distance and kisses you.

It’s a homecoming with fluttering confetti. He moves slowly, the world suspended, and he brings a hand to your jaw, sturdy and lithe underneath his fingertips. He only realizes it’s all he’s ever wanted until it’s happening and he never wants it to stop. And with this realization, he deepens the kiss and pushes into your mouth gently like he wants to consume you because he does. The desperation on his tongue is evident, and a giddy moan rumbles in your chest, a sound he eagerly swallows. The hand on your cheek skims down the skin of your neck, the fall of your shoulder, and finds its home on the curve of your waist. Steve’s above you, holding you, and it’s a dream come true, so when he pulls himself away, gazing down at you with soft, dark eyes, to whisper are you sure?, your answer is a wheezing please.

Something feral inhabits him with the desperation in your voice, and he’s licking at your jaw, mouthing at your pulsepoint until that something overcomes him, and he bites your neck, a heady groan erupting viciously from your throat. He’s got an elbow propped by your head to give himself leverage, and his other hand is roaming, squeezing, gripping your hip like he’s afraid this is his last chance to touch you and he has to know what every soft part of you feels like.

“Steve.” Your voice falters under the weight of your desire.

“Steve.” It’s not a question or a command, just another way of confirming that the man over you is real and is touching you like he wants you.

His one hand finds the edge of your sweatshirt, and he breaks away once again to look you in the eye. “Can I?”

You nod dumbly, and he sits up, allowing both of his hands to find the hem and tug it over you. It’s mostly a successful venture until something gets caught, and everything is out but your head. Muffled slightly comes, “Steve, wait, I’m stuck.” It slightly clears the haze of lust that permeated the basement, and Steve can’t help but laugh. “Nooo, don’t laugh,” you chide but the unmistakable beginnings of a giggle fray the edges of your seriousness. “Steve, help me!” Peals of laughter collect like shiny curls of ribbon while he finally pulls the sweatshirt over your head, and you both remember that you are friends, good ones at that, who like each other and make each other laugh, and it’s perfectly happy.

It takes a minute for insecurity to catch up to you in this state, but it’s perennially punctual, and while you’re still smiling, you cross your arms. “Don’t do that, let me look at you.” Your hopes of hiding are dashed as Steve tenderly wrests your arms apart, and he looks at you like you’re beautiful, and with the appraising look in his eyes, you finally feel it. He stares at your body for a long time, longer than you ever thought someone would want to look, and he traces a single finger down the skin above your rib cage. “You really are something else,” he murmurs.

You can’t help but press, “In a good way?”

He smiles wide at that. “In the best way.”

He takes both hands to your face, leaning down to kiss you because he can’t not kiss you anymore. His hands make their way to your waist again, and you don’t feel bad about it. His fingertips press into your skin and press up your body until they meet the elastic of your bra. When his eyes meet yours this time, he doesn’t have to ask, and you’re nodding vehemently. Arching your back to grant him access, he slips a single hand to the clasp, which he undoes expertly. He leans back to take the bra with him, but you hold it to your chest.

Searching your eyes for insecurity, he only finds prickly, teasing suspicion.

“You’re kind of a pro at that. One-handed.”

It’s his turn to be sheepish, and he doesn’t really know what to say.

“Have you gotten a lot of practice with that? Take all your girls down here and impress them with that move?”

Leaning back on his heels on the ottoman, he grins down at you all laid out and cheeky, having finally claimed the upper hand. “So it was impressive?”

You shrug coyly, but the way your lips curl is anything but. “Maybe! Who’s to say? Really it lets me know that you, Steve Harrington, are a total womanizer.” He looks to the side away from you with a smile and a blush that is unfamiliar to you, and it makes your heart squeeze. “I’m willing to let it slide…for a price.”

His eyebrows lift incredulously, and he shifts his gaze back to you. “How steep are we talking?”

You pretend to contemplate it very seriously with a pensive finger tapping your lips in thought before you gasp theatrically. “I think you need to take your shirt off.”

His laughter spills out, your giggles accompanying soon after. He shrugs with the biggest, most smug grin on his lips and grabs the hem of his sweater. “Well if fair is fair….” And it’s over his head in a second, revealing his broad, tanned chest, and you don’t mean to, but you heave a quick intake of breath because while you’ve seen this before at his pool, at the lake, you’ve never seen it in this context. A context where you’re allowed to touch.

So you do. Mirroring his earlier touches, you reach out and trail a couple fingers down his hard stomach, fingertips tracing down and brushing the happy little trail of hair that collects at the bottom. He watches you fondly, granting you this moment of appreciation after being allowed it himself. “Stevie,” you whisper. “You’re so pretty.”

“I’m pretty?” His smile cannot be contained. You’ve got the moon in your eyes, and he can’t really believe it’s there while you’re looking at him.

“Yeah.”

“I’d argue you’re prettier.”

“It’s not a competition.”

He chuckles again at that, taking your hand feather-soft in both of his and bringing it up to his face. He delicately places kisses on each fingertip and on your palm before curling your fingers in and pressing your closed hand against his face.

It burns the tip of his tongue, churns in his stomach. I love you.

But he doesn’t say it. He can’t explain why, but he doesn’t. Though he thinks that if you’re any good at reading him (which you are), you would be able to see it written plainly across his face, see it in the way he looks at you.

And maybe you do see it because you gently pull your hand away and grab the straps of your bra resting loosely on your chest. You’ve always been made up of walls and defensiveness and toughness, protecting a soft, pink inside. All heady eye contact and heavy breath, you slowly pull the garment away from your chest, and Steve thinks it’s a metaphor. Then, he can’t believe he’s thinking about metaphors and English class while the girl of his dreams is taking off her bra in front of him, but nonetheless, to him it’s a metaphor for crumbling walls and vulnerability because he can see it in your eyes. You look scared. Like at any moment he might decide he doesn’t want you anymore, and he’ll leave you soft and pink and bleeding. Guilt curdles in his stomach because he knows he’s done that before, but he vows to make you know that he’ll never do it again.

So, he reaches out, his arms strong and sure, and he runs his hands down your sides to hold your hips firmly and lets his gaze run wild over the soft expanse of you. He lets you steal his breath as he holds you down and looks at you. His eyebrows are furrowed and his head shaking when he whispers, “You’re not real.”

Your eyebrows pinch in silent questioning.

“You’re not real,” he repeats. “There’s no way. You can’t be real. This has to be a dream. You are a dream.”

“Steve,” you chide, but the smile pulling at your lips is unmistakable as your insides twist and curl joyously. “You’re being cheesy.”

“No, I’m not, [Y/N/N]. I’m just telling the truth.” He starts to grin because you’re laughing again. “I’ve got to be sleeping because there’s no way you look like this, and you’re letting me touch you.”

“Steve!” Your admonishment falls flat under the peals of your laughter.

“I’m being serious!”

“Okay, weirdo.”

Holding your waist, Steve leans forward to lay wet kisses on your collarbone. “I’m a serious guy.”

You run a hand over his head to hold his neck fondly. “I know you are. Super serious guy.”

The teasing subsides as his mouth laves lower on your chest, from the hollow of your neck to your sternum to the gentle curve of your breast. He can feel the rise and fall of your ribs as your breath gets deeper, shakier. His lips are soft until his teeth are not, and you cry out. “Sorry, baby.” If you weren’t breathless before, you definitely were now after the pet name, and he continues his kisses with smug lips. He switches sides, kissing and licking and sucking, and once he starts using his teeth again, you know there will be purplish spots to look forward to.

His hands with minds of their own have found purchase on your hips, mindlessly fingering the hem of your shorts. It tickles a little, but you are somewhat preoccupied with his mouth’s business that you can’t find it in yourself to reprimand him, but it doesn’t stop you from squirming slightly. One finger boldly slips over the short’s elastic, and he glances up at you from under his weirdly luscious boyish eyelashes. “May I?”

A breathless laugh. “What manners you have.”

His eyes remained trained on yours, waiting, your answer not sufficing, and the seriousness in his eyes almost sucks the levity from the room. You want to spend hours considering his thoughtfulness, his care, but you don’t have hours, so you nod and whisper, “Yes. Steve, please.”

He’s kissing you again, and his hand is making its way down your shorts. When a solitary finger runs the damp gusset of your underwear, you rasp in a gust of air. He chases your lips for a chaste peck. “Are you still wet from the rain, or are you just happy to see me?” He breathes a laugh into your mouth which opens into a brilliant giggle.

You don’t have the time to come up with a witty response before he’s rubbing that finger along you again. There’s nothing precise about it, but the pressure alone is enough to leave you panting. Steve, thoughtful as ever, kisses your neck again, leaving your mouth free to choke down air. By the time his hand is moving again, the cotton of your underwear is nearly soaked. He snaps the elastic of your underwear against your stomach, eliciting a pitchy whine he’s never heard before but would like to hear again. His fingers slide underneath the waistband, and you’re completely mindless with his hand against the real thing. He cups your mound, just holding you for a minute, and you think it’s comforting until you feel something down there gush, and you’re mortified by the wet that must have doused his fingers. Steve notices you shift uncomfortably, so he looks up to your face where your embarrassment is written plain in the heat of your cheeks. There’s nothing to be embarrassed about, in fact it’s extremely hot, so Steve pulls his hand from your shorts and pins you down with his gaze while he brings his shiny fingers to his lips and sucks two in his mouth. Maybe it’s unprofessional, but your jaw drops, and you gawk, still holding eye contact. He pulls his fingers out with a soft pop.

“You taste good.”

The whiny moan you let out sounds like something from those movies in the back of Family Video, and Steve can’t help but smile to himself as he slots his hands down your shorts again. He slips his middle finger into your folds where the slick hasn’t stopped accumulating, and he gently runs it from clit to opening where he teases slightly. Any semblance of control over the noises you’re making has been lost, and you’re glad, for once, that his parents are never home. He expertly collects some of the wet to grease little circles on your swollen clit, and his mouth is on your chest again, his tongue about as wet as your pussy. You’re not sure it can get any better until his middle finger slides down to your entrance and his thumb finds home on your clit. The pad of his thumb is moving up and down while his middle finger carefully pushes into you. He curls his finger inside you, and you never knew Steve was so dexterous, but you’d never be caught complaining now. His touch is gentle but purposeful, knowing exactly where to stroke to find the soft spot inside that drives you wild. When he feels your cunt is no longer gripping his finger so tightly, blooming with arousal, he presses a second finger in, a move that has you keening into a throw pillow on the couch.

Your mouth is open in a silent scream, jaw tight. He notices this and brings his unoccupied hand to tenderly tuck stray strands of hair behind your ears. He then cups your cheek, his thumb swiping fondly over hot skin. His fingers are still moving, but he’s whispering now, “It’s okay. You’re okay. I’ve got you.” Maybe it’s the heat he’s stirring up in your lower half, or maybe it’s the plain affection in his tone, but tears spring to your eyes.

“Steve, please.” It’s a plaintive susurration, and he knows what you need, pressing his lips to yours. It starts soft and reassuring but turns into a devouring. Your hungry lips seem to be the only thing capable of expressing the ache in your chest.

You would have been content to stay there forever, but the heat in your gut is becoming increasingly hard to ignore, and after a particularly strong stroke of his thumb against your clit, you’re crying out again, more urgently this time.

“Pretty girl,” he says against your open mouth, noses pressing into each other. “You can let go, I’ve got you.” His fingers continue their ministrations until a deep gasp, and he knows you’re there. Your breath is hot on his face, your moans hotter, and he smiles to himself, not smug but sentimental as all hell. He works you through it because he’s a gentleman and because he needs a moment to recover himself after becoming conscious of the slick of your cum collecting in his hand.

Your eyes are closed with a blissful smile pinching your cheeks when you have finally revived enough to speak. “I’d heard you were good, Harrington, but I didn’t know you were that good.”

“Was always getting ready for you.” It’s partially a joke, and it’s partially not.

Luckily, you only hear the joke and laugh, so he doesn’t have to confront the very real part of him that becomes aware of the not-joke’s implications. He can’t really think about that right now, so instead, he carefully retrieves his hand from between your thighs, wipes it clean on his jeans, and places long strokes up and down your bare arm as your breath finally settles.

When you open your eyes, Steve is carefully tracing your body with his gaze, his shoulder and chest pressed up against your side, but he grins when he sees you looking at him. “Do you wanna keep going?”

Nerves dance lightly in your chest, but they’re good nerves, so you nod with a matching twist of your lips.

His eyebrows raise. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“Okay, hold on.” He removes himself from your side, and the loss is devastating. You weren’t really aware of how much heat he was generating against you until he was gone. Grabbing a nearby pillow, you hold it to your chest to maintain a decency that doesn’t really matter anymore and twist to see over the back of the couch where Steve has gone to a closet that you had previously known as VHS tape storage. He stretches up to the top shelf, and you no longer try to dampen the warmth in your stomach at the sight of his freckled back rippling with muscles. He gets down a box and pulls out a condom, and you scoff in disbelief. “You’re telling me the VHS closet has doubled as the condom closet this whole time?”

He shrugs. “You can’t reach the top shelf.”

“Oh my god.” But your incredulity has dissolved into laughter once again, and his grin is absolutely shit-eating as he replaces the box on the shelf and rounds the couch. He stands, inspecting you sprawled on the couch and ottoman.

“Yeah, this won’t do. Hold on.”

You yelp as he grabs you by the knees and reorient you so you’re laying on the couch length-wise. He seems pleased to manhandle you and to see how breathless you are after doing so. “Much better.”

He crawls onto the couch, and you heave your legs apart so he can settle in between them on his knees. “Eager much?” he quips lightheartedly, but he can see the flash of self-doubt in your eyes, the fear that maybe you were doing too much, wanting too much. He places a hand on your calf and skims up and down. “No, me too.” He swallows funny before venturing into touchy-feely. “I don’t think you know how much I’ve wanted this.” There’s a whisper of confusion on your face that disperses as fast as it came, and you smile softly.

He notices the pillow still covering your chest and reaches to tug the corner. “Can I have this?”

You let go of the pillow, and you feel bare, the cold of the basement no longer mitigated by Steve’s proximate warmth, causing your nipples to harden. His gaze is openly obsessive, ravenous and the pillow in his hand forgotten. “I don’t think this view will ever get old.”

“You’re gonna catch flies.”

He whips back into shape with your teasing and remembers the pillow. Sticking the condom in his pocket to free up a hand, he sneaks the hand under your hips. “Lift.” You do as he says, and he slides the pillow under you, canting your hips up to him. His hands attach to your waist and slide to your hips, once again fiddling with the waistband of your shorts. With furrowed brows, he glances over the shorts (his shorts) and looks up at you with concern. “Ma’am, I’m sorry, but the lending period on these bad boys has elapsed.”

With a roll of your eyes, you stare back unamused. “Steve, I know you are not using a Family Video script as dirty talk right now.”

Despite your protests, he persists with the bit. “I really am sorry, ma’am, but with your permission, I need to take these back.”

“Okay, yeah fine alright.” You sigh and let your head loll to the side.

“Alright?” he asks, a shade more serious.

You meet his eyes and nod. “Alright.”

“Alright!” And with renewed enthusiasm, he tugs the shorts over your hips and down your legs, tossing them to the side. “And because I believe in equality,” he says while standing. “I’ll also do you the honors.” Proud as ever, Steve slides his pants down his legs, leaving him in boxers. Chuckling, you clap lightly and give a little whoop! He bows like a dork.

He starts toward you but quickly stops, mumbling an oh shit as he drops to the ground and searches his jeans’ pockets. Triumphantly, he pulls out the condom he nearly forgot, and you snort. “My hero.”

He comes back and settles between your legs on his knees again, setting the condom on the nearby ottoman. His attention zeroes in on your underwear, and his fingers are greedy, petting down your lower stomach and finding the waistband. He sees how shiny the inside of your thighs are and how soaked the fabric is, and his suave persona falters, baser instincts making something in his stomach tighten. “We really made a mess down here, didn’t we?” You flush and let out a nervous giggle. His gaze tracks to your eyes, asking the silent question. You nod.

He pulls the cotton down your legs slowly, reverence in his gaze, in his hands. A shuddering breath from both of you. Once free of your legs, your underwear is tossed aside. You’re not really sure what’s going to happen next, but he picks up your leg, lifting it to his lips. Locking eyes with you, he presses chaste kisses to your ankle, up your calf. He sets your foot down, knee bent a little, and stretches out, laying down on the rest of the couch. He continues his line of kisses, brushing his lips against the inside of your knee tenderly, and it makes you shiver. Your chest is heaving with heavy breaths, your fingers gripping the leather of the couch. Giving your other leg its proper due, he laves wet, open-mouthed kisses to your inner thigh, growing closer and closer to where you want him most. He’s nearly there when he decides to nip the soft skin of your thigh, his teeth sharp but his tongue soothing. He noses against the plush of your skin affectionately, and something about it makes you want to cry. Then he’s where you need him, and instead of touching you, he’s breathing in deep through his nose. He’s smelling you, and you want to cry for a very different reason.

“Steve, please.” Begging sounds unfamiliar on your tongue, but he doesn’t mind it one bit. He hoists your legs over his broad shoulders, one hand wrapped around the expanse of your thigh and the other holding your hip in place. He purses his lips and blows a quick burst of cold air to your wet center that has you whining before licking into the velvet of your sopping folds. His kisses are ravenous, starved. He knows how to eat pussy with skill and dexterity, but at the moment, he’s more concerned with getting his mouth on as much of you as possible, and you don’t seem to mind, mewling helplessly. After a long stripe up the length of you, something in you cracks, and your fingers twist in his hair to hold yourself together, and lightheaded, he thinks that he would never leave his place between your thighs if you gave him the opportunity.

Finally satisfied that he’s tasted as much of you as possible, his movements become more specific, sucking your clit in between kitten licks, and it seems like you like it because your cunt is weeping, slick pouring out of you and onto his face. You tug on his hair, and it’s his turn to moan voraciously.

“Stevie, baby—” If you were going to say anything else, the words are lost as a groan rips from your chest, Steve diving back into you with a hunger he’s not sure will ever be sated. He’s licking into you, and your stomach is jumping with the pure pleasure, your blood boiling. When he comes back to your clit, kissing gently, it happens all at once, unexpected, and you’re gushing again. Thighs closing around his head, Steve laps at the wetness flowing out of you, taking until there’s nothing left to give. He’s too much, and you’re too sensitive, and you’re crying out, but he doesn’t relent until the heel of your hand presses against his forehead, pushing him away.

You’re out of breath but manage to quip, “Eager much?”

He huffs out a laugh, leaning his head against your thigh and slick gleaming on his face. You sit like that for a minute, letting your breathing slow and him nestling into the warmth of your legs. When he checks in on you, your eyes are closed and your breathing deep but an ever present smile on your lips. “D’you wanna go to bed?”

You chuckle. “Stevie, we didn’t come this far to stop now.”

“But we can, though.” His brow furrows, and he looks at you seriously. “We can stop whenever you want.”

You can’t help but smile at his concern, and you grapple for his hand. You intertwine your fingers with his. “Thank you, Stevie. But if you’re down, I would absolutely love to have sex with you right now.”

He grins. “Yeah, alright.”

Reluctantly pushing himself out from between your legs, he moves to a sitting position, lifting his hips to take off his boxers. Propping yourself up on your elbows, you watch him with a goofy grin, stupidly excited just to have fun and feel good with him. He slips his underwear off, his cock springing up and leaking precum.

“Woah.”

He grabs the condom from the ottoman. “What?”

“Just—confronted by the man, the myth, the legend.”

He swats weakly at your leg with the back of his hand. “Shut up.”

He rips the condom open, rolling it on with practiced ease. “What! You’ve been the talk of the town for a while, King Steve, and I just gotta say you’re living up to your reputation.”

Rolling his eyes, he shifts back onto his knees on the couch, but when he looks at you, he can tell your disguising your nerves with teasing. He softens, running a hand down your leg. “We’ll go slow.” You meet his gaze and smile gratefully.

Shuffling up close to you, he leans over you to kiss you. It’s gentle and says everything he can never say to you out loud. Your hands lift to his jaw, holding him to you, not letting him break away, but he’d never leave if you wanted him to stay. You pull away for a moment, foreheads still pressed together. “I’m ready if you’re ready,” you whisper.

He nods with a smile, running a hand over your head to land on your neck while placing a peck on your hairline. The small dose of affection has your heart racing and butterflies stirring in your stomach ruthlessly, and you lay back, giddy. He sits back on his knees and takes a second to let the immensity of this moment weigh on his shoulders, on his heart. You’re otherworldly laying soft and pliant, hips tilted up, presented to him. One hand grabs your hip, thumb massaging into the fullness of flesh there, and the other takes your knee and hikes against his hip, palm skimming down the abundance of your thigh. His grip on you is tight as if the tighter he holds, the more real this moment is, the longer he can hold onto it, and when you’re looking up at him like he hung all the stars in the sky, it knocks the wind right out of him. “You’ve got to be a real life angel, [Y/N/N].” His words make your eyebrows pinch, and you’ve lost count of the amount of times tears have sprung to your eyes this evening.

He keeps a steadying hand on your hip but takes the other to hold himself while he lines himself up with your entrance. One last glance up to you for a silent nod of permission, and he begins to press into you. It’s ever so slow, but he’s girthy, so you’re already letting your head loll while moans pour out of you thick and unhurried like hot syrup. Steve’s wrangling his own feelings at how tight and wet you are, and he has to get himself together so he doesn’t blow before the real thing has even started. He’s only a few inches in when he hears a hiss of pain and an ouch! His stomach lurches with guilt and worry, and he stops moving immediately and looks to where your face is scrunched up. “Are you okay?”

You nod vehemently, eyes still squeezed shut. “Yeah, I just—ah—I’ve never done this before with someone so….”

“Yeah, I know.” His hands are back at your hips, thumbs working the muscles there to relax you and ease any discomfort.

“You know?” you chuckle breathlessly. “That’s a little presumptuous of you.”

“Sorry, baby.”

“S’okay, Stevie baby.” The pet name is said jokingly, but his heart squeezes, so he squeezes your hips. He laughs, full of mirth, and it makes you laugh too, and he can feel you start to relax, the tension in your body dissipating.

“Do you wanna stop?”

“No, I think I’m good, you can keep going.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah, I’m sure.”

The slide in is easier now, and you’re tight now only because you’re clenching in pleasure. “Ohhh,” and it’s like you’ve only just realized that this actually feels really good. A second more and Steve is fully sheathed in you, and you’re both groaning relentlessly. He doesn’t move, letting you get acclimated to the feeling of being full.

“You feel so good,” he pants, head thrown back and Adam’s apple bobbing. “You feel so good.”

“Steve, baby, please move.” At your behest, he’s pulling out slowly still, and it sounds obscene and wet because your slick is incessant, and Steve doesn’t think he’ll ever love a pussy as much as he loves yours. Your whine is coming from deep in your throat with the loss of his thickness in you, but it explodes into a girlish wail as he starts pushing back in again. Fully seated in you, he readjusts, resting an elbow by the side of your head and sliding an arm beneath your back. Melting into his embrace, you throw your arms around his shoulders to feel the warm, freckled expanse of his back. Like this, it’s all skin on skin and breathing each other’s breath, and if you could crawl inside his skin, you would. His hips begin a faster rhythm, pistoning steadily into your wet heat which is getting hotter and wetter by the moment. It’s all curling pleasure, and you don’t mean to, but your fingernails dig into the muscle of his shoulders. Everything in you is trembling, so you bury your face in his neck, where he smells like cologne and sweat.

“Steve!” It’s muffled by salty skin.

“I know, baby, you’re doing so well.” His praise rips a whine from you. “Taking me so well, pretty girl.”

He wants to kiss you, but your mouth is hidden, so he does the next best thing: mouth wetly at your neck, bite the spot below your ear, suck bruises into the well of your collarbone. You respond with a bite to his shoulder, and it almost makes him want to laugh. Your cunt has grown tighter again, and he knows you’re close but that something has to change to get you there. His hot breath washes against the shell of your ear. “Hold on.”

Holding you tight to his chest with the arm already underneath your back, he pulls you both into a sitting position, you on his lap. He knows he’ll be able to get deeper this way, and he can tell you’re already feeling it by the way you’re mewling sweet nothings. “Stevie baby, I feel you in my stomach.”

“I know, I know.” Your eyes are squeezed shut, this time in unfathomable pleasure, and he studies your face. The sweat that seems to make you glow, your swollen, kiss-bitten lips, the lashes that rest so delicately on the apples of your cheeks. With tender fingers, he pushes the hair out of your eyes again, tucking strands behind your ears, smoothing what can’t be tamed back into the mess of your hair. Your eyes flutter open, and the brown of his eyes shines with incredible fondness in the dim light of the basement. Your shaky fingers push a few errant locks behind his ears, and he laughs at the reciprocated gesture. Your hands find home at his jaw, bringing his mouth to yours. These kisses are slow but not gentle, and you’re licking into his mouth, and he’s licking into yours. His hands settle on your hips once again, and your surprised gasp yawns into a gaping moan as he holds you up and then drops you down onto his cock, his tip bumping your cervix.

And with that, you’re back into it. Your thighs quiver as you try to keep pace with his thrusts. Everything between your thighs is slippery and fast, and all you can do is hold his shoulders for support. You’re already so pent up, and the heat is stirring in your stomach, and you know you won’t last long. A particularly deep thrust has you clenching, and he holds your hips down for a moment, spearing into you before resuming his pace.

You’re babbling mindlessly, trying to repay his good dirty talk, but it’s mostly incoherent groans and various iterations of so big, so good, so deep. It’s hard to think when he’s fucking you like his life depends on it. Another hard thrust, you’re crying out, and something about the way your voice stretched thin, he knows you’re close.

“Come on, pretty girl. You’re doing so good, you can come for me, I know you can.”

One hand leaves your hip to find your clit, giving quick back and forth strokes that have you buckling.

“Steve.” It’s urgent, and he knows you’re right there. One more stroke, and you’re collapsing in his neck, his hips slowing but not stopping.

“There you go, I’ve got you.” The hand on your hip slides around your back to pull you closer. You’re inconsolable, whining endlessly into his skin. Your breathing starts to slow, but a gasp interrupts the gradual descent. You pry yourself from his skin and look him in the eye. “You haven’t come.”

“You’re tired.” He shakes his head nonchalantly, but the way his chest heaves with stuttering breaths gives him away.

He should know by now that you’re stubborn and won’t let this slide. You’re shaking your head emphatically. “Not too tired.”

He’s about to protest when you reach behind you, setting your hands on his knees and your chest puffing out, and the sight of your tits presented proudly in his face is enough to silence him wholly. With great effort, you lift up your hips and slam them down, and he’s already shuddering. Despite your exhaustion, you find a moderate rhythm, grinding into him on the downbeat. His hands find your waist, and he can’t tear his eyes away from the way your tits bounce with the rise and fall of your hips. You can tell he’s close because the muscles in his lower stomach are jumping, so you swirl your hips experimentally, and that’s all he needs. He grunts with a jerk of his hips into you, spilling into the condom, and his head falls into the valley of your chest, murmuring softly prettiest baby and angel and perfect.

He’s hugging your waist and pressing kisses to your chest which is already littered with purple and red bruises, and you bring your hands to the sides of his head, smoothing his hairline at his temple with your thumbs. Nestling your nose into the mess of his hair, you press kisses to the crown of his head. It’s his turn to bury his face in your neck, and it gives you a chance to look down his back. Remorse crumples beneath your ribs as you see the red lines of your nails sweeping down the length of his spine, so you turn away, pressing your face to the back of his head and stretching your arms to wrap about his neck. It’s a well-deserved moment of quiet, just the hushed sounds of breath evening out. For as much as his mind was racing earlier in the evening, Steve’s brain is finally quiet, content. Your head, on the other hand, is quite full, but the loudest thought is just that it feels so good to be held!!!! To be held by him!!!!

Neither of you wants to pull away, but after a couple minutes, the dampness still trickling out of you demands attention. With your legs still wrapped around him, he turns to lay you back down on the couch, and he hangs over you, propped up on one arm. Knowing you’re going to be sensitive, he looks you in the eye. You nod. Slowly but surely, he starts to pull out of you and in the process, pulls a groan from you. He pauses halfway through, “You alright?” You’re nodding again but you also grab his wrist to steady yourself. Your grip tightens as he finishes pulling out, and you’re both panting, mourning the loss of fullness and warmth and closeness. He dips his head to plant a kiss on your knee. “I’ll go grab a washcloth, yeah?”

He stands and grabs his underwear from the floor.

“Hey, can you toss me the sweatshirt?” You point to the first discarded piece of clothing, and he throws it back to you. You tug it over your head while he swiftly removes the condom and ties it off before slipping into his boxers. Rounding the couch to go upstairs, he leans down to kiss your forehead, and the simple affection seems somehow much more intimate than everything that preceded it.

“Be back in a sec.”

—

Steve’s padding his way down the stairs, so you know he found socks somewhere upstairs. He makes a show of hopping over the back of the couch to sit at your feet. You’re hugging a pillow to your chest, knees bent and pressed together. With a slow hand, he pries your legs apart and presents the washcloth to you with a smile which you return halfheartedly. He’s ever so gentle, wiping carefully to remove all the stickiness from between your thighs. Once satisfied with his work, he sets the cloth aside on the end table. “And because I think you’re really gonna wanna wash your underwear before you put it back on, I brought you these.” He pulls out a second pair of boxers. “Plus, I thought it’d be fun to match.”

He’s grinning at you, and you try to match his energy but fail, taking the boxers from him and slipping them on. “Thanks, Stevie.”

His arm rests on the back of the couch casually, but he watches you with furrowed brows and great concern. He waits for you to explain yourself, and when you don’t, he begins to prod, “You okay?”

Swallowed in his sweatshirt, you tighten the pillow against your chest, trying to shore up all of your defenses before proceeding. You stare at the ceiling. “I have a question, but I don’t know how to ask it.”

He shakes his head, eyes trained on you. “You know you can ask me anything.”

You swallow harshly, and you still can’t meet his gaze. “Was—was this just an easy way for you to get off?”

He wasn’t sure where you were going to go with your question, but he finds himself thoroughly unprepared for what you do ask. “What?”

“Was I just…an easy fuck? I know you said you hadn’t really been on dates recently, and I don’t know, I just thought maybe you saw me as an easy target ‘cuz you already knew I liked you.”

His mind is reeling from your accusation, and he wants to be mad but only finds himself deflated and at a loss for words when he sees the scared look in your eye. He can see you going over everything he did, everything he said that night in your brain, searching for sincerity. His mouth is open as he searches for something to say.

“No,” he whispers. “No way.” Much more firm.

“Then, why did you do it?” You sit up to demand more. “Why now? Because you were very clear before that you didn’t want me the way I wanted you when you walked away without saying anything when I told you I was in love with you!” Embarrassment blooms at your outburst, so the next words come out quiet. “What am I supposed to think?”

“That I’m a jerk,” he replies weakly. “That I’m a stupid jerk who doesn’t know how to understand his feelings, let alone talk about them.”

Your eyes are wide. “I don’t feel bad for you.”

“You shouldn’t.” He huffs a humorless laugh. “I guess I just kept thinking about how things would change between us, and I didn’t want anything to change. Not that I didn’t like you like that, but I thought it’d be so much easier to lose you if we went for it. Then I went and lost you anyway….” He trails off, empty eyes trained at the floor. “I just didn’t know how to tell you any of that, I didn’t have the words. So I left.”

The silence that follows is physically painful, and when he finally musters the courage to raise his gaze to you, you’re already staring back at him with an unreadable expression.

“No offense, Steve, but that’s stupid as fuck.”

Of course, you know how to make him laugh after the terrifying, impossible task of sharing his feelings, and it feels good to laugh with you about it because it had made him sick with guilt for months.

“It’s hard to talk about your feelings, I get it, but dude, there are better solutions than walking away from someone and then avoiding them for literal months.”

He runs his hands over his face. “I know, I know. But you make me stupid.”

“You do stupid just fine on your own.”

He’s glad you’re smiling again.

“I do really like you,” he confesses with the ghost of a grin.

“As a friend?” you tease with a raised eyebrow.

“As way more than a friend.” He wants to say it, wants to say the word sitting on the tip of his tongue so badly, but everything in his body is refusing. So he looks at you with these big, round, adoring eyes, and he hopes you get it. You smile like you understand.

“Okay, just checking.”

“And I think we should go for it.”

This genuinely surprises you, and while you’re not one to say no to what you want, you have to make sure he means it. “Really?”

“Really. The last two months sucked without you. All that you never know what you had ‘til it’s gone shit.” And he can’t tell you he loves you, so instead he says, “If I could spend the rest of my life with you, I would. No question.”

This makes you laugh, but he knows it’s not a joke. “Alright, slow your roll, lover boy.” The mirth fades slightly from your face, and he can tell what’s coming next is hard for you to say out loud. “I’m glad you’re all ready to go, but—” A deep breath. “But I need you to know that you hurt me.”

He’s nodding. “I know. And I’m sorry.”

The apology is genuine.

“I forgive you.” You mean it too. “But it just means that we’ll have to take it slow. If you’re okay with that.”

His hand seeks out yours, finding it on your knee. He squeezes tightly.

“I’d wait for you forever.”

#steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington smut #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington #major apology to everyone who had to read this without italics i forget they don't transfer during the Great Google Docs Copy Paste

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wannabeschyulersister · 2 years

Text

the love square?

*takes place in season 4 but no spoilers. gif is not mine. credit to owner.*

Family Video was always practically empty on a Wednesday night. A pin dropping could be heard from anywhere in the store. You were leaning against the counter waiting for any customers to come in. Robin was rewinding some tapes and Steve was just aimlessly walking around the store.

The bell above the door rang alerting you three that someone was walking in. You sprung up, excited to be eased of your boredom for a few moments. You were even more excited when you saw Eddie Munson walk in.

Eddie smiled when he saw you at the front counter, “(Y/n)! Hey! I was hoping that you’d be here tonight.”

“You were?” You asked him nervously. You’d been harboring a crush on Eddie for a few weeks now.

“Yeah, I know you’ve got great taste in movies. I need some suggestions for this weekend.” Eddie said.

You nodded and smiled, “Yeah, I can help you.”

Robin watched as you walked around the store with Eddie. It was pretty clear that you had feelings for him. You talked about him quite often to Steve and Robin. They would hear about how cute and funny you thought he was.

Robin could also see that it bothered Steve. He hadn’t mentioned having feelings for you to her, but she could tell. He always seemed to brighten up whenever you entered a room. Your laugh made him laugh.

Steve looked at you the way that you looked at Eddie. He didn’t want to get in the way of your happiness even if that impeded his own. Steve Harrington wasn’t a selfish guy.

“They’d make a cute couple.” Robin said trying to feel out for any hints.

Steve glanced in your direction but quickly looked away, “Uh yeah, I guess so.”

“He doesn’t really seem like her type though. I figured she’d be into guys that are about your height, your build, and that have your sense of humor.”

Steve looked at his best friend, “What?”

Robin shrugged her shoulders, “I guess I just thought you and (Y/n) would be the best match.”

“Well, I guess you were wrong.” He mumbled. He heard you laughing at something Eddie said and he just wanted to clock out and leave. He didn’t know how much his heart could handle.

Steve wanted to distract himself and hoped that Eddie would leave soon. When you walked back to the front counter, you gave Robin Eddie’s rentals and then hurried to the back.

Steve could briefly tell that you had been crying when you passed him.

“Shit. I feel like an asshole.” Eddie mumbled after you walked away.

“What the hell did you do to her?” Steve sternly asked him.

Eddie took a step back and held up his hands, “Relax! I didn’t do anything. Well, I didn’t mean to. (Y/n) sort of asked me out for this weekend but…. I’m dating Chrissy.”

“You’re dating Chrissy?” Robin questioned, “The cheerleader?”

Eddie scoffed at her incredulous expression, “Don’t look so surprised. Women find me adorable.”

“Yeah, so did (Y/n).” Steve told him.

The expression on Eddie’s face softened, “Look, I feel awful. I tried to apologize but she ran off. I didn’t know that she’d ask me out. I didn’t even know she thought about me that way.”

“I should go and check on her.” Robin said.

Steve stopped her, “No, I’ll go. You ring up Lover Boy over here.”

Steve made his way to the back where there was a small break room and a bathroom for the employees. You weren’t in the break room so he knew there was only one other option.

He could hear you sniffling a little from the other side of the door, “(Y/n)?“

“I’m fine! I’ll be out in a minute.”

Steve opened the door, ignoring your response, and peaked inside. He found you sitting on top of the counter by the sink.

You quickly wiped away the tears, “Steve, what are you doing?”

“I came to check on you.”

“I’m fine.”

Steve chuckled lightly, “Yeah, I always cry when I’m fine too.”

You looked down at your hands, “I feel like an idiot.”

Steve moved closer, stepping in between your legs. He lightly lifted your chin up with his finger, “You’re not an idiot.”

“Yeah, I am. I’m crushing on a guy that is in love with someone else. I’m pathetic because I couldn’t see the signs that he wasn’t into me like that.” You felt more tears beginning to form. You hated crying in front of other people.

Steve felt like you were reading his thoughts but instead of them being about Eddie, it was about you. “You aren’t pathetic.”

“What would you call someone like me in this situation?” You asked sarcastically.

“The words ‘idiot and pathetic’ don’t even describe you,” Steve said softly as he touched your check, “You’re fantastic and kind. Beautiful and smart. You’re hilarious and thoughtful. I think that any guy that doesn’t see that is the idiot.”

Steve was looking at you in a way that you hadn’t ever noticed before. It made your heart race. He was so close that you were positive that he heard it.

“You’re just saying that.”

He shook his head, “No, I’m not. I mean every damn word.” Steve glanced from your lips back to your eyes and you caught him.

When you first met Steve, you had a crush on him. Hard. It was after his King Steve phase so you got to know the real him. You didn’t think that he saw you in that way so you buried your feelings way deep down. They hadn’t resurfaced until that very moment.

“I appreciate you coming in here to check on me. It was very thoughtful of you.”

Steve placed his hands on your thighs. Did it seem like he was even closer now than before? “Of course I was going to come and check on you. I didn’t want you in here crying over Eddie Munson.”

“Eddie is a nice guy. I guess I just didn’t see that he wasn’t as compatible for me.”

“Robin has a theory.” Steve said cautiously. He knew if he said what he really wanted to say, there was no taking it back.

“About?”

“She thinks that you and me would be a better match.” Steve said softly. He looked into your eyes to gauge your reaction.

“And what do you think about that theory?”

Steve smiled a little, “I think that we’d be the perfect match.”

“You do?” You questioned.

He nodded. Steve cupped your cheek with his hand, thumb lightly grazing your bottom lip. “(Y/n), you have no idea the hold that you have on me.”

“Me?”

“Yes, you. Pretty Girl, I’ve wanted to do this for as long as I’ve known you.”

You smacked his chest playfully, “Why didn’t you ever say anything?”

“I thought you were too good for me.”

“You’re too hard on yourself. You’re a good guy, Steve Harrington.”

“Good enough to kiss you right now?” Steve went for it.

You nodded and before you could say anything else, Steve’s lips were on yours. If you thought your heart was racing before, now it felt like it was about to burst out of your chest.

The kiss was pure and everything that you would wonder it would feel like. Steve’s reputation definitely proceeded him.

His hands were on your waist and he pushed you closer to him. Your legs went around his waist. Your fingers running though his famous locks.

The moment would’ve been considered absolute bliss if Robin hadn’t decided to burst through the door. The two of your sprung apart but it was clear by the swollen lips and messy hair what you were up to.

“Well, I wanted to come here to see if there was any advice I could give but I can see that’s unnecessary. Carry on.” She gestured before walking back out the door and closing it.

“So, are you still upset about Eddie?” He asked, even though he knew what your answer would be.

“Eddie who?”

#steve harrington x reader #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington one shot #steve harrington x you #steve harrington #stranger things x reader

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honeymilkau · 2 years

Text

Sweet Escape

Eddie Munson x Female Reader

While hanging out with your best friends —Robin Buckley and Steve Harrington — during their shift at Family Video, you’re good friend and local drug dealer, Eddie Munson calls the video store trying to get a hold of you to try and new strain he was looking to sell. Intoxicated thoughts lead you to make a move on Eddie and cause you to panic, scared it’ll ruin the friendship forever.

genre - eddie x female reader / friends to lovers

word count - 4913

warnings - explicit language / smut (eventually) / high talks with eddie / use of marijuana/ Angsty eddie / SLIGHT STEVE ACTION

Part One

-•-

You were at the video store, hanging out with Robin and Steve as it was a quiet Sunday shift for the both of them. There was one other customer in the store, a girl around your age, just trying to pick a movie for the night but Steve was pestering her and trying to make a move.

"I would personally go with something romantic if you're going to have a movie night with your boyfriend." Steve suggested

"Oh I don't have a boyfriend."

Steve's eyebrows raised "Oh! I'm so sorry, I mean, I just kinda figured considering there's no way a girl as beautiful as you could be single."

You rolled your eyes, looking over at Robin "Yo, I'm not even gunna talk to you right now, I'm just going to look at you because I simply cannot watch this fucking train wreck anymore."

Robin laughed at you, "This is what I have to deal with daily."

"Like do any of these pick up lines actually work? Or is he just waisting his time and embarrassing himself?"

You looked over your shoulder to see Steve still blowing it with the cute girl as Robin answered. "You would think that rejection after rejection he would get the hint."

"It's girls night, we just don't know what to watch. We all like different genres."

You look back at Robin "You're an employee here, why don't you go over and save that poor girl."

She shrugged "Steve will kill me if I ever intervene. He thinks he has it all handled."

"I would recommend footloose." Steve showed the girl the VHS tape "It's romantic, and funny, entertaining."

"Yeah it's a great movie, we watched it last week." the girl kept trying to walk away from Steve but he kept on trying to recommend different movies while throwing in an occasional pick up line here and there.

You shook your head and walked up to the girl "Hi, I’m so sorry about my friend Steve, he's not the best at movie recommendations but if you ask me, I think you should go with Carrie. I mean it's the first weekend of October, it's getting colder outside and halloween is only a couple weeks away. It's a classic too." You picked it up and handed it to her.

"Hmm, yeah, I think this would be perfect. Thank you." She smiled kindly at you, making steve scoff.

"It's no worries."

The phone in the store started ringing and Robin answered as you continued chatting with the girl. "Again, I apologize about Steve. He's usually better at the whole flirting thing but to be honest with you, I think he got a little flustered because of how beautiful you are."

Her cheeks heated up as she looked over your shoulder at Steve "Really?"

"Yeah," you smiled softly "I'll tell you what, I’ll cover the movie rental in exchange for your number for dear old Steve here." You patted his shoulder "I mean cmon, he's a good looking dude! Just look at that hair."

She debated it for a while but decided to give in "Sure, why not. You got a pen and paper?"

You nodded with a wide smile "I'll be right back." You patted Steve on the back harshly "You're welcome, Harrington."

You walked over to the checkout and grabbed a pen "Eddie the freak is on the phone." Robin smiled "He's looking for you." she slid the phone towards you.

"Sup Ed's?"

"Nothing much rockstar, what's up with you?" he asked on the other end

"Helping Harrington out." You said, looking around for paper

"Ohhhh dude, is he blowing it with another chick?"

"Bombing it. So fucking hard. I have to pay for the chicks rental movie in exchange for her number. I couldn't bear to see Harrington get rejected by the fourth girl this week."

He laughed loudly on the other end. "Wouldn't expect anything less from him honestly, considering all the stories you've told me about him."

You found a piece of paper and rushed to the girl, smiling at her as she thanked you.

You started walking back towards the counter "Yeah well, he owes me if he gets laid." you said lowly "What's up though? Why'd you call me here out of all places?"

"Well, I called your place but your parents told me you were out and I just assumed you were over there. I wanna chill with you, it's been ages."

"Eddie it's been like, three days."

"Yeah, exactly. Ages."

You couldn't help but giggle like a school girl at him "Well, what would you wanna do tonight then?"

"Sesh at my place? I got new weed I think you'd enjoy. New and hot on the market."

"Sure, you need me to bring anything?"

You watched Steve and the girl say their goodbyes as she kissed him on the cheek before walking out of the store.

"Nah, just your pretty little self."

Your cheeks became rosy as you smiled "Yeah whatever Eddie, I’ll see you later alright?"

"Okay, bye rockstar."

"Bye." you hung up the phone and handed it to Robin.

"Don't even think about it, Y/n." Robin warned, grabbing the phone from you.

"What?" You questioned

"Don't even think about getting involved with that." she motioned to the phone "I like him and all but if you get involved with him, you'll be the laughing stock of the school and I personally don't care about all that popularity bull shit but I care about you, and if you start hooking up with him and people find out, you will be severely bullied and I can't just stand back and watch." she rambled on.

"Y/n, thank you so much." Steve walked up to you, giving you a fist bump.

"My pleasure my friend."

Robins eyes widened "Hey! If you wanna get laid so bad why don't you and Steve hook up?"

"WHAT?!”

"NO FUCKING WAY!"

you both screeched in her face.

"Think about it. Steve is desperate as hell and you're hot sooooo, I don't really see the issue here."

Steve raised an eyebrow at you "I mean... she has a point."

"Ew! Steve- okay no! We're not doing this." you huffed at the both of them

Steve looked over at Robin "I'm confused, why are you trying to peer pressure us to have sex?"

"Because she's going to have sex with Eddie tonight."

Steves mouth hung open as Robin walked away from the counter to the front of the store to fix inventory. "NO FUCKING WAY ARE YOU ACTUALLY GOING TO THE FREAKS TRAILER TO HAVE SEX WITH HIM."

"Can you shut the fuck up!" you groaned, hitting his shoulder harshly "Honestly Steve, Im gunna knock you on your ass if you don't pipe the fuck down." You grabbed your keys from behind the desk, getting ready to leave "I'm not going over to fuck Eddie, even if i was, who cares?"

"y/n... he's a freak."

"He's sweet."

"He's weird."

"He's kind. Im not having this conversation with you anymore, Steve." you huffed.

"No cause now i'm offended. You're saying ew to having sex with me? What's wrong with me?" He asked, baffled at the fact you apparently didn't find him attractive.

"Nothings wrong with you, Steve, you're a good looking guy." you scoffed "Why are you acting as if you don't think you're the hottest guy in school?"

"Do you think I’m hot?"

Your cheeks heated up instantly, not knowing how to answer truthfully without flattering him too much.

He snickered and looked at Robin "She thinks I'm hot."

You rolled your eyes "Eddie is hot, I’ll admit that to you." you gave him a new topic to focus on.

His eyes widened as you started walking towards the door "So you do wanna fuck him?"

"Peace Robin." you gave her a peace sign "Fuck you, Steve." you used the same hand and flipped off Steve behind you.

You left "Family Video" and got into your car, seeing that the sun was already setting. You always kept your bong and all the smoking essentials in your car, hidden in the trunk so your parents didn't find it in your room while you weren't home.

You pulled into the trailer parked and parked right beside Eddie's van. You grabbed you backpack that had all of the stuff you needed and headed up to the door, knocking on it softly. The door opened and Eddie smiled at you "Hey sweetheart."

"Hi." you smiled softly, cheeks starting to get rosy from the chilly night air.

Eddie smiled at you shyly before opening the door further and stepping aside to let you in "M'lady," he ushered you in.

You walked in and you looked at him as he closed the door behind you. You took off your oversized leather jacket and pointed towards his room. He nodded and you walked to his room quickly. He followed behind you and closed his bedroom door and looked at you "Here, Ill take your jacket."

You passed it over to him as he hung it up in his closet. You sat on the edge of his bed as he went over to open his little window.

"How was your day?" he asked, grabbing his grinder and grinding up his new flower for you to try.

"It was good." you nodded, opening your bag and grabbing your bong and filling it up with water you brought.

"How's Harrington and that girl? Robin?" He asked, unsure if he got it right or not. You nodded with a small smile. He snapped his fingers and smiled back "Robin. Was it fun?"

"It was. She asked me if I wanted to have sex with Steve." The room went silent as you both packed your tokes. He tried to stifle a laugh but failed to do so when he busted out into laughter.

"I CANT IMAGINE YOU HAVING VANILLA BORING SEX WITH STEVE HARRINGTON"

"Who said he's vanilla?" You asked as you bursted out into laughter as well

"He gives me the vibe, Y/n! I can just tell he only knows how to boring fuck."

"Hey," your laughter started to die down "I know I bully Harrington but it's all in good fun. He's one of my best friends, I feel like I’ve known him forever."

"I know, I know... but do you think he's kinky? Be honest."

You stared at Eddie, holding back your laughter "No. I don't."

"See!" he laughed more, causing you to burst into laughter with him. As soon as he heard your laugh, he laughed even harder. He found your laugh so contagious and he loved it.

He sat beside you on the bed, both of your laughter dying down as he passed you a lighter. You took it from him, your hands lingering more than needed. He looked down at them as you finally pulled the lighter out of his grasp. He grabbed his own lighter as he sparked it "Cheers."

You held up your lighter, only pressing down on the red button, avoiding the spark wheel. His lighter lit yours and you smoked your first bowl of the night together.

You both blew out the smoke as you coughed a little "Shit." you coughed into your elbow. Eddie rushed up to grab a glass of water from this tiny kitchen, bringing it to you once he finished grabbing water from the tap.

"Thank you." you said through tiny coughs, taking a sip of water. You already felt the high starting to hit. You relaxed your muscles as you looked down at your bong "Would it be crazy to ask you if you wanna rip another?"

He smirked at you, plopping back down on his bed, sitting beside you. "No, not crazy at all." he started packing his toke and you followed his lead, he pulled out his lighter and was about to take it when you stopped him.

"Wait, wait, wait." you rushed

he gave you a confused expression, wondering why you were stopping him. Your cheeks warmed up in embarrassment as you looked up at him and asked

"Can I light it for you?"

fuck

He felt himself get hard. So pathetic. You have literally never once gave him a signal that you liked him or wanted to fuck him or anything. He was just Eddie, your good friend Eddie. He was Eddie the freak, Eddie the drug dealer, Eddie the dude you sesh with, he wasn't anything special to you and he knew that but to be honest, he didn't even really care that much, as long as it kept you around.

"Of course you can light it for me."

You smiled wide and started lighting up his toke, he inhaled all the smoke as you pulled up the bowl piece slightly after he cleared it. He blew the smoke out of his mouth and smiled at you "I'm going to pack yours and light it if you don't mind."

He put down his bong and picked yours up instead.

You nodded as you watched him pack your bowl piece, he was packing it nice and tight. You loved smoking weed, it was no secret to the people around you. You never went to work or school high, you were more responsible then that, you only did it after school or on the weekends when you didn't work part time.

When you're alone, your head gets into a really dark place, where you can't stop thinking about your depression and anxiety, where you overthink every little thing that you did that day. Weed turned your brain into mush and you liked that, it refrained you from thinking too much, it made you laugh over the dumb shit in the world and most importantly, it made you eat and sleep.

"Eddie I can't smoke a bowl that big."

you saw him pack the bowl piece to the brim. Even though you loved weed, you couldn't smoke that much of it at once because you were scared of coughing and greening out. When a person greens out from a big toke like that, they become sick and throw up a lot. It happened to you before, you were trying to impress eddie the first time you smoked together and it back fired. You were throwing up in his toilet for a while, you were expecting him to just leave you alone to do your thing but he ran into the bathroom with you and held up your hair, rubbed your back and made sure you were.

"Yes you can, I know you can." he said softly, passing the bong over to you. "I know you can clear this, rockstar." he pulled out his lighter and grinned at you "Whenever your ready."

You inhaled and exhaled, clearing your lungs of any sort of air so you could inhale as much as possible. He started lighting it, watching the bowl piece starting to clear "Atta girl, keep going, you got this." he said lowly. You cleared it right after his reassuring words, he lifted the bowl piece as you blew out a cloud of smoke that was once in your lungs. You started coughing slightly, he took the bong from you and put it on the floor, rubbing your back.

“You killed that, I told you, you could do it.”

You looked over at him and he started busting out into fits of laugher "Whaaaaat?" you whined, hitting him "Shut up what's so funny?"

"BRO YOU'RE SO HIGH! THE LOOK ON YOUR FACE!"

You were too stoned to even care, you started laughing with him, holding your stomachs as you laughed loudly. "Fuck." he wiped his tears away "Let's listen to some music." he walked over to his turntable, grabbing different records, "Any requests, M'lady?"

"Dynasty by Kiss." you answered.

When you said you wanted to listen to Kiss, he wanted to fuck you right then and there. How were you so perfect?

"I was made for lovin' you" starts playing from the speakers. He walked back to his bed to lay down, the song playing lowly in the background "Do you need to lay down?" He asked you as you were spaced out "Y/n?"

You didn't even blink when he was talking to you. "Y/n?" he shook you, causing your full attention to be back on him

"What? I'm so sorry I was just zoned the fuck out." you apologized

He laughed softly "It's okay, you were probably just daydreaming about Harrington."

"That's not true." you huffed, laying beside him in bed "Not true at all."

"Okay so you're saying you've never once thought about fucking Harrington?" he teased you "For some reason I think you're lying."

You stared at him and huffed "If I just admit it to you, will you leave me be?" You asked and he nodded "I thought about it a lot in freshman year, I mean, we've been friends for a long time, I always thought I was going to lose my virginity to him. I think I was just horny and hormonal because I would rather die then have sex with Steve."

"Who'd you lose it to?"

"You don't want to know."

His eyes lit up like a christmas tree "Ohhh its bad then if you wont tell me. Cmon, who'd you fuck?"

"It's really not important."

"Y/n I wont tell anyone, I'm just dying to know now."

You took a deep breath and looked over at him, ashamed to say the truth. "Jason Carver."

His eyes went so wide you thought they were going to pop out of his head "WHAT THE FUCK." he shot up and started pacing around the room "NO FUCKING WAY! Y/n you're straight up lying."

"I swear I’m not."

He rubbed his temples with a goofy smile on his face "I cannot believe this. So all of those rumours he started about you... you giving him head and fucking you in the movie theatre bathroom-"

"True."

"Bro, what the fuck."

You sighed and sat up, facing him "Yeah it was before he was a dickhead. It's not like anyone really believed him anyway, except for the cheerleaders and the rest of the basketball weirdos, which i'll take any day over the whole entire school thinking it's true."

"Was it bad?" he says next to you on the bed again

"Horrible. He said he was a pro and honestly I believed it because of how many chicks he slept with before Chrissy. But oh my god Eddie it was terrible, he didn't know the spots, he didn't know where the clit was for fuck sake and he later about 3 minutes tops."

"My mind is fucking blown." he said, chuckling to himself. The two of you sat in silence for a minute before you spoke up.

"Are you going to look at me differently now because you know the truth?"

You sounded so scared, and upset, like you were about to burst into tears "The only people that know the truth are Chrissy and Robin. That's why Chrissy broke up with him. Please don't tell a soul Eddie, I mean it."

"I promise I won't tell anyone, Y/n." he said sadly, wrapping his arm around you and moving closer. You laid your head on his shoulder, his arm moved down from around your shoulder to down to your waist, bringing your body closer to his.

"I know I’m only in high school, but, there's not one person in this shitty town that could make me happy in a relationship with them. It's not like I'm in any rush to be dating someone but, no one gives me a second glance."

"Y/n that's fucking bull shit. Do you know how many guys I know who would jump off the face of the earth just to kiss you?" You sat back up straight, looking into his big brown eyes.

"Really?" You asked

"Yeah..." he whispered, noticing how close you were. He looked down at your lips for a second just to look back into your glossy eyes. "I mean cmon, rockstar. You know you're hot as fuck." he kept his arm around your waist, wanting to bring your body even closer to his. He saw your cheeks become red, along with your ears heating up in embarrassment. "Y/n, look at yourself. You're so fucking perfect it drives me fucking insane, it drives everyone insane. Not only are you attractive you're just so sweet, and fucking funny, and so selfless. How could anyone not look at you?"

You didn't know why you did it... maybe it was his sweet words or that you were too intoxicated to think, but you pressed his lips onto his, cupping his face to deepen the kiss. He brought both of his hands to your waist, pulling you even closer to him, to the point where you were basically straddling him.

You quickly pulled away before the kiss got more intense. "I-I... fuck sake." you mumbled and got up, grabbing your things quickly, not bothering to poor your bong either, you were too scared that eddie would hate you for what you just did that you didn't care that the neighbours would see. "I'm sorry, Eddie."

You say as you rushed out of the trailer. He sat on his bed, absolutely dumbfounded at the fact that a) you kissed him, b) you just straight up left his place and c) that he didn't run after you until he realized you were long gone.

"Holy shit."

-•-

You sat in the cafeteria during lunch with Robin, avoiding Eddie and the rest of the Hellfire Club like the plague. "I still can't believe that happened last night and I still can't believe you walked from his trailer to my house." Robin spoke up

"I was way too high to drive so it's either walk or car accident."

The rest of the Hellfire Club already sat at their usual table, Eddie joining them with his lunch. They boys were wondering why you weren't at the lunch table with them today, pressing Eddie with a bunch of questions.

"I don't know." Eddie shrugged, the truth is, he knew why but didn't at the same time. Yes you kissed him but why were you avoiding him?

"Well you two hung out yesterday, was she acting weird at all?" Gareth asked

Eddie stayed quiet as the boys all stared at him "What the fuck happened between the two of you?" Gareth cracked a smile.

"Nothing happened." Eddie said, opening a bag of chips.

Gareth scoffed, "Nothing happened? Okay, go walk up to her and Robin and see what she says."

Eddie rolled his eyes and stood up "Fine, I will."

Robin looked up from her lunch to see Eddie walking over to your table "Well he's coming over so you better think of what to say to him and not make it awkward for me because you know how i am when..."

Robin started rambling as you looked back to see if what she said was true, and when you saw Eddie walking towards your table, you didn't know what else to do so you grabbed all of your things and quickly stood up to leave. You walked out of the cafeteria doors leaving Robin staring at Eddie, in shock of what you just did.

Eddie looked over at robin who slowly started to get up and back away "Yeah- I um, I'm heading out too." she said slowly, becoming more uncomfortable by the millisecond. As soon as Robin walked out of the cafeteria, the Hellfire Club started laughing in unison.

"Dude," Dustin said in between laughs "What the shit did or didn't you do?"

-•-

Its been two weeks since you kissed Eddie, two weeks since you've hung out with him, two weeks since you have even spoken to him. You've been hanging around Steve more often, he'd drive you and Robin home from school everyday. You two caught up on all the shit you missed out on and you told him how you felt about Eddie.

He made fun of you for it at first, but when he saw your eyes fill up with tears he took you more seriously and tried to take your mind off of it.

You were taking a late night walk down to the corner store to get yourself a cherry slushy, when you saw Eddie in the alleyway beside the corner store with a cheerleader from Hawkins High. He had her pinned against the brick wall, his hands gripping her waist as he kissed her, moaning against her lips as she begged for him to take her home.

"You're so hot." he moaned against her "Ill take you home if you promise not to tell anyone, sweetheart."

"I promise." she whimpered

You ran all the way home to call Steve in tears, begging him to go on a drive with you. Within a matter of minutes, he was at your place, picking you up and driving you around.

"I shouldn't have just walked away when I did that. He was kissing me back! I'm so stupid." you huffed "But just because he kissed me back doesn't mean anything like, he's going out with that cheerleader it's clear he doesn't like me like that, what if he doesn't want to be my friend anymore?" you ranted as he pulled into the movie theatre parking lot

"What if every time he tried to talk to me, he wanted to end our friendship? I don't think I could handle that Steve."

He turned off his car and looked over at you "Y/n, you're being a Robin, you're rambling. Calm down." he sighed and ran his fingers through his hair "Y/n, listen, I don't know what the fuck is going on with Eddie but I really think he likes you... I mean, I’m not an expert in the Eddie department but he calls you up all the time, is constantly giving you free weed, always drives you home, is always by your side and sticks up for you whenever someone tries to give you a hard time."

"Thanks Steve," you grabbed his hand to hold it "But I really don't think so, I just- God I just need to get over it. I need to just have meaningless sex, you know what I mean?"

"Yeah, I went through that phase after Nancy." he laughed at you.

"Yes! So you know what I mean! Just sex with someone I trust, someone i'm close with, someone who I find attractive, someone i consider a friend..." you trailed off as you looked down at your intertwined fingers and slowly looked up at Steve with a smirk.

"Y/n, no." he pulled his hand away from yours

"OH CMON STEVE!"

"NO, Y/N IM SAYING NO! BAD IDEA! SUCH A BAD IDEA!"

You huffed and crossed your arms "Y/n I’m sorry. I want you, I really, really want you. I had a crush on you when we were younger and I can admit that I’ve thought about it but, I don't want this to change anything between us."

"It won't. I promise." you said softly, inching closer to him

"Y/n-"

"Steve..." you whispered, your lips almost touching his. He scoffed as he blushed.

"Fine. One time thing." he gave in, sticking out his pinky "Promise me."

"Fine, one time thing." you smirked, intertwining your pinky with his. You leaned in and kissed him softly, pulling him in closer to you. His hands started roam your body, going up your shirt and he unclips your bra.

Oh shit okay

"Get in the back seat, now." He instructed.

You nodded quickly and got into the back, starting to undress yourself as he joined you.

At the same time, Gareth and Jeff were walking out of their late night movie together, walking down the parking lot to walk home together. "No man I’m telling you, I think he's finally getting over her, he was telling me about this cheerleader he's hooking up with tonight." Gareth was updating Jeff about all the drama that was going on lately

"Fuck man, work has been ruining my life. I had no idea any of this shit was going on."

They continued walking down the parking lot when they slowly approached Steve's car rocking back and forth. "Oh shit, that's Harringtons car." Jeff pointed out as they started walking past it.

"Imagine if Y/n was the one in the car." Gareth laughed, as he was laughing to himself, he looked into the car from the windshield and saw you on top of Steve. He gasped and started hitting Jeff "That IS Y/n!”

"Oh fuck." Jeff's eyes went wide "Well I guess she's moving on from Eddie too."

"Eddie cannot fucking find out about this" Gareth rushed, pushing Jeff away from the car to continue to walk home "Yeah he's fucking that cheerleader but if he finds out about this, his entire world will come crashing down."

You had no idea that Gareth and Jeff saw you, you were enjoying your time with Steve too much to notice anyone seeing you, and you were too hurt from Eddie to even care.

The only thing you cared about in that moment was you and Steve in your own little world, about to be woken up by reality in the week to come.

-•-

To be continued…

PART 2

#eddie x fem!reader #eddie x reader #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson smut #eddie oneshot #eddie munson #eddie x fem reader smut #stranger things one shot #eddie stranger things

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luunie · 5 months

Text

the only reason I spent so much time at blockbuster is because there was one across the street from my grandma's apartment when I was living with her. the place wasn't that great tbh. like in my experience the little indie rental places/media shops were significantly better, and a lot closer to how people describe blockbuster nowadays.

like idk how to explain it besides going to blockbuster was very similar in experience to going to walmart (or I guess k-mart would be a similar example as a defunct nostalgic chain of stores) like it was a clear corporate business that worked to squeeze as much money out of you as they could while underpaying their employees.

like people talk about going in to blockbuster and asking for movie recommendations and having a clerk who was informed about cinema pointing them to what they want? that's literally not what happened, they were trained to point you to handful of items on the "latest releases" shelf because those cost more to rent. Also, blockbuster employees were generally not more knowledgeable about film than like, your average highschooler. hence why for a certain generation of people, renting videos you absolutely shouldn't have been able to because the clerk didn't know better is such a touchstone experience.

#personal

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angeloddity · 2 years

Text

Summertime Storms

Slow Afternoons

steve harrington x fem!reader

You visit Steve at Family Video on a rainy day.

genre: fluff

word count: 1,400

a/n: every time I watch stranger things I fall in love with steve all over again. No spoilers for season 4

part ii || series masterlist || masterlist

The firmament spirals, a dark threat above you. Storm clouds, almost formed to completion, are ready to crack at any moment. It’s supposed to rain all day, at least that’s what the weatherman said on the news this morning. The caption at the bottom of your TV read: Summertime storms roll through Midwest. You hadn’t paid it much thought at the time.

Now, looking up at the sky while you bring your bike to a stop in the nearly empty parking lot of Family Video, the bag you packed on your back swinging slightly as your motion slows, you wonder if you ought to have brought an umbrella. You balance precariously on your bike, toes barely finding solid ground as you lean your weight back onto the seat—you’d raised the seat too high one day only to find it stuck, unable to lower it to a more fitting height—to get a better look at the sky.

A single fat raindrop falls from the clouds, landing heavy on the space just above your eyes and splattering against your face. You reel backwards from the unexpected impact, the shift in weight nearly causing you to tumble, bike and all.

More raindrops begin to fall around you, not too many, but they’re all just as heavy as the first, excessively large but not unusual for the season. The threat of more rain to follow forces you to stumble off your bike and wheel it to the portico, the overhang offering protection for the sidewalk in front of Family Video and the surrounding stores in the strip mall.

You lean your bike against the windows of the store. The green borders and various movie posters hanging on the glass are likely to make it impossible to see anything but the handlebars from the inside, but it’s not the first time you’ve left your bike here and it won’t be the last.

It’s then that the rain finally comes, a tremendous downpour, loud and weighty. The rushing hiss of rain hitting the pavement drowns out any other noise and blurs your view of the empty asphalt, streaking everything in the parking lot into shades of grey and splotches of green. There are only a handful of cars in the lot, all of them likely belonging to employees in the plaza, but Steve’s is the only one you recognize—the only one that hasn’t lost all form in your sight line from the torrent of rain. The stream of rushing water shrinks your world until nothing exists beyond the downpour and the store behind you.

You can’t help but edge your way towards the downpour, sticking your hand beyond the protection of the roof above you until the rushing rainfall catches on your skin. Drops splatter against your hand and the pavement below you, smaller droplets sinking into the tops of your shoes, but you hardly notice.

Behind you, the door chimes, signaling an end to your muffled solitude.

“Well, if it isn’t my best girl. Did you come to rent a movie?” Steve stands in the open entryway of Family Video, leaning back against the glass door to keep it propped open, an easy smile resting on his lips. His words make your heart flutter, they always do, and you can’t help but smile back, stepping towards him as though some magnetic pull is tugging you in his direction.

“I came to see you,” you chirp, too happy to mind how ridiculously lovesick he makes you.

Steve settles against the door, crossing his arms and shifting his weight. He’s not allowed to leave the store, not when he’s the only one working at the video rental for the day, even if it’s unlikely that, between the already slow weekdays and the threat of storms all day, there will be any customers. But he can linger just on the edge, as close to where you currently stand as possible. The magnetism, it seems, pulls both ways.

“Are you coming in? You’ll catch a cold from the rain,” he urges, warm, brown eyes taking in the state of your slowly dampening clothes, slightly darker dots marking where the water splashed up against you.

“It’s a warm shower today,” you state, holding up your now wet hand to prove that you would know, you’ve felt it. But the rain is cooling the air down, and you don’t really want to be wet when you finally enter the air conditioned video rental.

You walk towards Steve, wiping your still rain-wet hand on your shirt as you do, leaving even more marks behind on the fabric.

As soon as you’re through the door, Steve throws his arm over your shoulder, pulling you in close to his side to provide you some warmth, at least you think that’s what he’d claim if you asked him about it. You both know that he just wants you close.

He brings you around the counter even though the space is meant to be for employees only, so he can stand by the phone and register, just in case someone does decide to call. Then he helps you up to your usual perch on the countertop.

It’s dark in Family Video today, the store’s old lights buzzing overhead, working far harder than they should to emit such a small amount of light. The store relies mostly on natural lighting, something which doesn’t exist today, the storm casting a deep grey across everything in its reach.

The rain outside shows no signs of stopping anytime soon.

In the near silence you can hear the sharp clatter as the shower falls in sheets against the roof. The darkness, the sound of the storm, and the comfort of Steve leaning so close to you all come together to bring hints of sleep back to the edges of your eyes.

It reminds you of the bag you brought, still settled on your back to survive the bike ride over to Steve’s work.

“I brought you something,” you exclaim, pulling the bag from your back and placing it down beside you so that you can dig through it. The bag clunks as the contents inside make contact with the countertop.

“Yeah? What is it?” Steve asks, but you ignore his question.

You pull out two mismatched mugs, setting them down before reaching back in the bag to pull out a dented thermos. A puff of steam floats up from the metal container when you open it, carrying with it the scent of hot coffee. You pour some into both mugs before putting the lid back on the thermos, setting it aside so Steve can have more later if he wants it.

You each grab a mug and take a sip. The coffee is nothing special, cheap grinds turned to liquid fuel in your family’s coffee maker, but you made it to Steve’s taste rather than your own, and he seems pleased.

“You're an angel,” he practically moans. He crowds in between your legs, bringing his free hand up to your cheek to hold you steady while he places a gentle kiss just above your eyes—right where that first raindrop landed.

You can’t help the peel of giggles that pass between your lips at the reminder. Steve doesn’t question it, just smiles at you softly before pressing another kiss to your cheek. You’re impossible to kiss properly like this, something your boyfriend has learned by now, so he settles for whatever skin he can reach.

Three more kisses against your cheeks leave you grinning like a fool when Steve finally pulls away from you.

He takes one more sip of his slowly cooling coffee, before turning his attention to the various items placed on the counter, meant to tempt the nonexistent customers to spend more money. He grabs a small bag of cookies, halfway to stale, from one of the little snack racks set up on the counter. The packaging crinkles as he rips it open, sounding much too loud in the empty video store, before popping one in his mouth.

“Are you allowed to do that?” you practically whisper, as if drawing the attention of the universe to yourselves could get you in trouble, as if the rushing water against the roof and the low buzzing lights and Steve himself aren’t the only things there to witness you. The storm has made sure of that. Steve merely shrugs.

“As long as you don’t tell, I won’t,” he says around a mouthful of crumbs, a cheeky, closed lip smile growing as he chews. He washes it down with another sip of coffee. Steve holds the bag up to you and you grab one of the cookies, popping it in your mouth. The texture isn’t great, too old to be considered fresh, even with the preservatives, but the sweet taste is pleasant.

You take another.

#steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington x fem!reader #steve harrington fanfic #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things x reader #stranger things #steve harrington makes me lose my mind #makes me go absolutely insane #gives me brainrot

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erin-bo-berin · 2 years

Text

Six Little Mice

Steve Harrington x Female Reader (Plus the kids!)

Warnings: None. Just some swearing, fluff and lots of kids bantering.

Word Count: 3.1K

Summary: The kids are thrilled when Steve and the reader go on their first date, but out of curiosity and protectiveness of their favorite babysitter, they go on a little spying mission...

A/N: The gif just looks like he’s in parent mode so I had to use it.

The greenery rustled, masking the arguing voices of the group that hid behind it.

“This is stupid,” Mike complained, “Why are we even here?”

“To make sure he doesn’t fuck up,” Dustin replied plainly.

“I think it’s sweet,” Eleven piped in, matter of factly, peering through one of the three pairs of binoculars the kids had in their possession, “She looks pretty.”

“He’s twenty years old, I think he knows how to go on a date,” Will added.

“He’s been on thousands,” came Lucas from behind his own pair of binoculars.

“You’re also forgetting he’s an idiot,” Max deadpanned, snatching the binoculars away from Lucas, failing to remove them from around his neck first.

“Ow! Ouch! Max!” Lucas gasped, trying to keep from choking, “A little help!”

“Sorry,” she muttered, reaching over to remove the band from around his neck, not once removing her gaze from their target.

“Guys, will you just relax?” Dustin sighed, exasperated. He was beginning to realize why Steve was always so exasperated with all of them.

“We’re just here to make sure everything goes okay,” Dustin continued, “You remember how much trouble we went to, to get him to ask her out? It’s honestly a miracle he actually did.”

It was true, just last week the six friends had joined forces with Robin Buckley, not only Steve’s friend, but yours too. She was tired of watching the two of you pine over one another, so when they had presented her with the idea, she was more than happy to help.

Ironically, it was a night much like the one where they had first met you.

The first time the kids met you, it was a traditional movie night between the friend group. Usually, it was the six of them, Steve Harrington and Robin. The duo would bring a movie they’d chosen that day from Family Video and would make a Friday night of it—watching the movie with popcorn and M&Ms, an absolute staple of their movie nights.

Steve had to work late at Family Video—thanks to Keith putting him on the closing shift for the entire week—but he’d been adamant that Robin and the kids still have their weekly movie night. Robin ended up bringing her friend from school, Y/N. You and she hadn’t had the chance to hang out much outside of school and Robin had clearly been excited to introduce you to the rambunctious teens. After that night, you had become an official part of the group.

It had been comical when you and Steve had first met. His friends, knowing him all too well, knew he was smitten at first sight. It wasn’t until later that Robin found out that you too had been harboring a crush on their older friend.

Thus, the plan began to form.

Movie night last weekend happened to fall on another night that Steve was working late at the video rental store. So like the first time you met them, it was just the kids, you and Robin.

Unbeknownst to you at the time, El broke the VCR, wiping the blood from her nose quickly before the evidence had given away what she’d done.

Then, they convinced you it must be the movie. Mike’s VCR in the basement headquarters was brand new after all—it was not, but he needed a new one anyway. Thanks to El, he’d be getting one. Two goals accomplished in one.

Robin, obviously knowing about the tapes since she was an employee, had jumped in noting that people had been having trouble with some of the newer tapes—another fib.

Step three of the plan was to send you to Family Video to return the movie and hopefully pick up another copy, or another movie. At that point it didn’t matter. The goal was for the pining pair to be alone—something that rarely occurred in the group.

They’d all crossed their fingers and hoped as they heard you leave the Wheeler household, VHS in tow, that Steve would finally have the guts to ask you out.

Which is why the kids were now spying on them at the nicest restaurant in town, Enzo’s.

“I can’t believe he brought her here for a first date,” Lucas scoffed.

“What’s wrong with Enzo’s?” Will asked.

“If you want to talk about first dates, Lucas took me to the arcade for our first date,” Max muttered.

“We were twelve. Besides, I thought you had a good time!”

“That’s besides the point,” she dismissed.

“Mike took me to the movies,” El added.

Mike and Lucas shared a bewildered, confused look, as if to say, ‘you try to figure out girls’.

“Nothing is wrong with Enzo’s,” Dustin said.

“It’s just so typical,” Mike shrugged.

“Considering Steve has been on so many dates, he’s probably been everywhere in Hawkins at least half a dozen times…” Will trailed off, reaching for Dustin’s binoculars.

“Enzo’s is romantic,” El said, “I mean look at them, they’re adorable.”

“And he even pulled her chair out for her. You bozos could learn a thing or two about manners from him,” Max chirped.

Fortunately, you and Steve were seated by the window and they all got a great side view of the date.

“I told him not to scare her away,” Dustin mumbled.

“Pretty sure if she’s on a date with him, there’s no chance of that,” Lucas grumbled.

“The point is, he’s a cute idiot,” Max said.

“Wait, you think he’s cute?” Lucas asked.

“Don’t forget that time she stared at him shirtless through the binoculars,” Dustin commented.

As one, Mike’s, El’s and Will’s heads whipped in their direction.

“When was this?” Will asked, clearly amused.

“Last year,” Dustin answered as Max said, “Doesn’t matter.”

El gave Max a bemused look and shrugged.

“I think Steve is cute.”

It’s as if the girls’ revelations flabbergasted the boys beyond words.

“Like a baby duck,” she nodded before glancing at Mike who was just staring at her in confusion, “Don’t worry Mike, I’m dating you, not him.”

“This conversation just keeps getting weirder and weirder,” Will grinned, clearly enjoying this.

“I’m just amazed Steve owns a nice shirt,” Dustin mused, raising his own pair of field glasses to stare at the couple.

“How’s it going?” Mike asked, having given El a turn to stare with his pair.

“The waiter just walked away so I’m assuming they just ordered. Okay, okay now we’ve got action,” Dustin replied, the instrument never leaving his eyes.

“She’s laughing,” Max said, watching as your hair fell into your face a bit as the laughter brightened your expression, “Aww, that’s cute.”

“Steve’s not funny though,” Lucas retorted, then grunted when Max hurled the binoculars into his chest for his turn.

“You’re just bitter from the incident last year,” Max gave him a look, “And that he has more chest hair than you.”

“Don’t get me started,” Dustin grumbled.

“Honestly, I think we’re really gonna need to hear this story when this is over,” Will said.

“The point is,” Max continued, ignoring them, “She’s not laughing cause he’s funny, she’s laughing because he’s cute.”

Four boys stared at her blankly, but El nodded.

“It’s true. Max says a lot of girls giggle around guys they like,” El said.

“And you wonder why boys are constantly confused by the female species,” Mike muttered, earning a hit on the arm from El.

“Guys can we just focus here?” Dustin said, looking back at his group of friends, “Honestly I wish one of us could read lips. I’m dying to know what they’re saying.”

“Y/N’s looking at Steve like he told her she could get free movies for a year,” Lucas said, nose wrinkling in confusion, “I mean he’s cool but not that cool.”

“Honestly it’s like talking to a brick wall with you boys,” Max said, pinching the bridge of her nose, “It’s because she likes him!”

“Thank God. I got exhausted listening to him talk about how amazing Y/N is,” Dustin grumbled, “Not that she isn’t, but I was ready to just ask her out for him myself.”

“You guys are awful,” Will grinned, although he too agreed with the rest.

“Nothing’s exciting happening right now,” Dustin reported, sitting back on his heels, “They’re just talking.”

“Ugh, my foot’s asleep,” Lucas complained.

“My ass is asleep,” Mike whined.

“Then why did you agree to come along?” Max asked them both, stealing the spy gear back from her boyfriend.

“Entertainment purposes,” Mike answered.

“Besides, we do actually hope this date goes well for Steve,” Lucas pointed out, “We all annoy each other half the time, but we do care about him you know.”

“He deserves to be happy,” El said, which the others had to agree with.

“Besides, he’s been a lovesick puppy for months,” Max pointed out, “Did he just kiss her?!”

“What?!”

“Let me see!”

The four boys scrambled for binoculars, anxious to see, only to hear Max’s laughter, soon accompanied by El’s giggling.

After taking a look, they saw you and Steve talking casually while eating your dinners. You tucked a piece of hair behind your ear with one hand while twirling a bite of pasta with the other, nodding at something Steve was saying.

“Looks like you dickheads are more invested in this than you thought,” Max got out between bouts of laughter, “I mean you should’ve seen your faces!”

“He better kiss her,” Dustin muttered.

“Isn’t that bad to do on the first date?” Will asked.

“You sound like you’ve been reading the magazines I borrowed from Max,” El eyed him.

“I did,” he groaned, “I was waiting for Steve to pick us up one day and I was bored.”

“Wait, why is it bad?” Mike asked.

“Apparently it’s not ‘proper dating etiquette’ according to teen magazines. Waiting until the second or third date is recommended,” Max explained.

“I didn’t understand anything you just said,” Lucas uttered.

“Yeah, I think it’s a really stupid rule, myself,” Max quipped.

“Besides you kissed Lucas at the Snowball Dance and you hadn’t even really been on a date,” Will pointed out.

“That’s nothing! Mike kissed El practically the moment he met her!” Lucas retorted.

El sighed, rolling her eyes at the usual bickering and turned to Dustin.

“Why should he kiss her, Dustin?”

“Well for one, he spent an hour on his hair before the date. An hour,” Dustin commented, “I don’t remember the last time he spent that long on his hair. I mean, I thought his normal half an hour was bad.”

“Wait, how do you know?” Mike questioned, brow lifted in curiosity.

“Steve called me to help him get ready,” he replied nonchalantly, “It’s a good thing too cause the poor guy was so nervous he almost left without his pants.”

“Well that would be one less step for Y/N,” Max mumbled sarcastically.

“I’m gonna pretend like I never heard you say that, cause ew,” Lucas said.

“Wait, he brushed her hand,” Dustin said, “Okay Steve, that was smooth as fuck, I have to give that to him.”

Steve had brushed your hand that was resting on the table, feigning reaching for another roll from the bread basket set in the middle of the table. At the last moment though, with one slight flick of his wrist, his hand rested atop of yours, fingers sliding underneath your hand to take it into his. He flashed you a small smile causing you to reciprocate it, feeling your cheeks flame.

“Okay that’s so cute, she’s blushing like hell,” Max beamed, looking through lenses.

“We should totally start a matchmaking business,” Dustin said, feeling like a proud parent himself.

“I wonder if they’ll have a second date,” Will thought out loud.

“What’s the dating etiquette on that?” Lucas inquired, looking at the red head next to him.

“How should I know? Our second date was so long ago I barely remember and it definitely didn’t follow whatever advice they offer in magazines.”

“Do you think he’ll pay the bill?” Mike wondered, getting a rare peek since El had been hogging his binoculars.

“Oh, now I know that etiquette on that,” Max said, “The guy always pays.”

“What? How is that fair?” Lucas argued.

“I’d think that’s the polite thing to do,” Will said, looking at Max, “I’m assuming?”

“It depends though,” Mike butted in, “Shouldn’t whoever asks for the date pay?”

“Good point,” Will nodded thoughtfully.

“But I thought that’s just how it’s supposed to be, the guy paying…” El trailed off, half confused, half intrigued by the argument.

“But what if the girl wants to pay?” Lucas added.

“Then she could pay, I guess,” Max shrugged.

“But didn’t you just say—” Lucas started.

“All I gotta say is if Steve is paying, I need to get a job at Family Video if he can afford this,” came Mike’s remark as the others contributed to the argument.

Dustin, meanwhile, had been focusing on the two of you, tuning out the argument. He may not have said it aloud often, but Steve was one of his best friends and he looked up to the older boy. He had obviously noticed his crush on you and of course, given him shit about it. But at the end of the day, he cared about his friend’s wellbeing, just as he knew the other kids around him did.

Steve had spent so much time looking out for them and in their own, mischievous way, this was them looking out from him.

But, by the looks of it, they wouldn’t need to do much protecting as it seemed like the date was going extremely well.

“Guys shut up, I think they’re about to leave!” Dustin exclaimed, seeing the two of you stand, leaving your empty plates behind.

“Can you see how much of a tip he left?” Mike asked El, grunting as he received another hit against the chest from her.

A few minutes later, they saw you and Steve exit the restaurant, heading towards his maroon BMW.

“This is it, Steve,” Dustin mumbled to himself, “Go on. Kiss her.”

They were close enough that the need for the binoculars weren’t completely necessary, so the other kids peeked through the bushes, watching anxiously as well.

The intonation of yours and Steve’s voices floated towards their hiding spot, but they couldn’t make out what was being said. They could however see the million dollar smile on Steve’s face. One they’d seen often when he was with them, but hadn’t seen much at all with girls his own age and it made them all smile at the fact.

“Do you think he’s gonna kiss her?” Will asked, peering at the line of his friends.

“Maybe she’ll surprise him and kiss him,” Max smirked.

“She wants to kiss him, I can tell,” El nodded.

“What? How do you know that?” Mike asked, puzzled.

“She just licked her lips and looked at him,” El responded plainly, like it was the most obvious answer in the world.

“Those fucking magazines, I swear,” Lucas muttered.

“Guys, they’ve gotten closer!” Dustin shouted in as much of a whisper he could.

Max squealed, “His hand is on her cheek!”

“Shh!” Mike hissed, “He’ll hear us!”

Lucas reached over Max, Dustin and El to shove Mike, accidentally shoving Dustin forward in the process.

“Oh fuck,” Dustin said, the binoculars falling from his hands, “Just when it was getting good!”

“Hey!” Mike exclaimed, trying to shove Lucas back.

“Will you two knock it off?” Max said, looking back at them.

“Uh, guys?” Will said, his eyes scanning where you and Steve had been only moments ago.

The group continued arguing and trying to shush one another, Dustin still on the ground reaching for his binoculars.

“Guys? Where’d they go?” Will tried again.

“Hush! You’re going to give us away!” Max hissed.

“Hey shitheads!”

It was the familiar deep voice, that was raised just the slightest that made them all freeze.

“Shit,” Dustin cursed.

They all looked up to see Steve looming above them, staring down at them in the bush, hands on his hips.

“What are you guys doing?” Steve asked, gaze passing over each one of them.

“Uh, felt in the mood for some Italian food?” Dustin offered weakly.

Steve gave him a look, “Really, Henderson?”

“How’d you even know we were here? You were half way across the parking lot!” Lucas exclaimed.

“I heard rustling in the bushes,” Steve said, “I thought it was mice or some shit until I realized these mice had voices.”

He gave them a pointed look, to which they all had the decency to look sheepish.

“We just wanted to know how your date was going,” El offered innocently.

“Yeah! We just wanted to know it went well,” Dustin added.

“So, did you kiss her?” Lucas asked.

“Are you going to ask her on a second date?” Max questioned.

“Is she your girlfriend now?” Mike probed.

“In my defense, this was all Dustin’s idea and they dragged me here,” Will said, earning a well meaning slap upside the head from Lucas.

Steve sighed, his usual exhausted—perhaps tinged with a bit of amusement this time—sigh.

“Go on home guys, I’ll talk to you all later,” he said before turning to head back to his car.

You were sitting in the passenger’s side of Steve’s car, watching Steve in confusion. Across the parking lot, his back towards the car, it looked like he was talking to a bush.

You weren’t exactly sure what had happened. One moment, it seemed like he was about to kiss you, his hand on your cheek and face inching closer towards yours. You were a nanosecond away from your eyes fluttering closed when he spoke.

“Hold on. I’ll be right back. Go ahead and wait for me in the car, okay?”

You were startled and a tad bit wary as you got into the car, sliding into the seat, watching him walk towards the greenery he was now facing. A big part of you really hoped you hadn’t done something to ruin the moment.

You weren’t left to ponder your thoughts too long though because a minute or two later, he was returning to the car, opening the door and sliding in behind the wheel.

“Everything okay?” you asked, hesitantly.

“Yup,” he smiled, looking over at you.

“Were you just talking to a bush?”

He chuckled, taking your chin in his hand before pulling your face towards his in the sweetest kiss you’re sure you’ve ever had.

It wasn’t until you’d parted that he actually answered your question.

“No,” he grinned, “Just six little mice.”

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