#my sweet sweet stevie steve | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

stevebabey · 2 years

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everything leads to you

a/n: gasp! another friends to lovers fic, u can’t stop me! will i write another trope? eventually. but not today hehe word count: 4.4k summary: you don’t want to read into the hints steve’s putting down and maybe, you’re a little clueless as well. fear not, robin’s here to hatch a plan to get two pining fools together. friends to lovers.

There were plenty of things Steve loved about you.

Be it your quick wit, your unabashed kindness for the kids, and especially your bright eyes, the wholesome energy that seemed to light up your entire body. Your obliviousness? He didn't love as much.

Well, maybe obliviousness is the wrong word. Whatever it is, it comes with your go-with-the-flow attitude, never wanting to give more weight to moments that didn't need them. And it worked well most of the time.

When Dustin had broken his wrist the first week into summer, goofing off at the skate bowl with the party — your house had been just around the corner and none of them had hesitated to hurry down and fetch you.

As you —albeit badly but hey, learners permit counts— drove Dustin to the hospital, he had cradled his wrist and asked if you wouldn't tell the others he had cried. "What crying?" you replied with a smile, taking your eyes off the road for a moment to smile comfortingly at him — then swerved to keep the car straight.

You'd done the same for Steve when he poured his heart out about Nancy at first the party after Tina's. Too heavy on the gin, you'd sensed his façade cracking and pulled him to the back porch. The last thing you needed was Steve dealing with any more whispers in the hallways tomorrow. Steve had felt pathetic, head in his hands, tears leaking through the cracks.

But you had dutifully listened throughout it all, resting your head on his shoulder to comfort him. And when you fed him the water and Advil that would save his life tomorrow, he whispered, words wobbling, "Can you not tell anyone about this?"

You smiled, nudging his hand that held the water glass, your voice matching his whisper. "About what?"

It's a sunshine trait of yours, sometimes bleeding into your genuinely terrible memory which happens to make you an expert secret keeper. But, it also means there is no such thing as hint-dropping with you. It's probably why you and Robin are best friends.

Steve's witnessed it before and it baffled him, the flow of conversation between the two of you which pinged about like a pinball machine. Robin's mouth moving at a million miles an hour and you, taking it all at face value without a second thought.

Most people get caught in Robin's whirlwind sentences, especially Steve who gets stuck the moment she seems to mention something left field. It's an art form, watching you nod and deliver the perfect response, having kept up with everything that falls out of Robin's mouth. Like now;

"See, Steve?" She calls over her shoulder from where she was leaning counter of Family Video, yourself on the other side. Steve was reshelving tapes, the stack high in his hands and it didn't seem to matter that he hadn't been a part of the conversation at all. In fact, Steve's not even sure who Robin's talking to when she calls out again. "Someone who can keep up!"

"Uh huh!" He calls back, moving enough tapes so he can peer over them. His heart jumps as he realises who it is, your eyes meeting across the store. You brighten, straightening up and sending a wave across the store. Steve goes to do the same instinctively, only realising his mistake when the tapes in his hands topple to the ground.

Crouching to pick them up is a saving grace; you won't be able to see the embarrassed ruby colour of his cheeks. He can hear Robin's usual jibe of 'dingus' at the counter, and by the time he's gathered all the tapes again, you're about ready to head out the door. You must be in a hurry, considering you usually take the time to talk to Steve as well.

"See-ya Robin!" You grin, pushing off the counter, and at the sight of Steve's head popping back up from between the shelves, you bid him goodbye as well, another yell across the store. "And bye Steve!"

It sends his heart thundering, your lively sunny disposition that Steve finds impossible to frown around. You have the unique ability to make him feel like a foolish 15-year-old again; reduced to pink cheeks and lines that never come out as smooth as they sound in his head. By the time he's re-shelved the stack and wandered back to the front counter, Robin is waiting. She leans backward, her back to the counter and elbows propped up.

"That might be your most dingus moment yet."

Steve grimaces, eyes narrowing. "Yeah, thanks for that." He speaks sarcastically, a hand combing through his hair.

"I don't understand why you get so weird around her," Robin began, winding a spare piece of twine between her fingers. "You two have been friends for the longest time; hell, she put up with you in high school. That deserves some type of award."

Steve busies himself, aligning tapes on the counter to avoid the blundering conversation with Robin. "I am not weird around her."

Robin snorts. "Yeah right — just know there's been another mental tally added to 'you suck'."

Steve scowls, his expression sarcastic at his best friend's words. Annoyingly, as usual, she made a decent point. You and Steve had been friends for a fairly long time, connections through each of your parents that meant the two of you inadvertently spent a lot of time together growing up.

You didn't exactly roll with the 'cool' kids when it came to high school, though mainly through the fact you didn't give a lick about popularity. Your friendly relationship with Steve likely kept your name out of the gutters, especially when he had to shoot down his friends who liked to jeer, asking why he was still friends with the likes of you.

Being friends with Jonathan Byers didn't help in that regard. In fact, technically, it could be blamed for dragging you into the absurd crazy situation of Will's disappearance. You had been there in the crucial moments, palm sliced and armed with the axe Joyce had battered the walls with, ready to fight a monster you'd never seen before for your friends.

But nothing was as seared in your mind as the pivotal moment when Steve came back.

You had just watched him scamper out the door, with half a mind to follow him but you wouldn’t do that to Jonathan or Nancy. And then in between the terrifying flashes of Christmas lights, your axe knocked from your hands, he had come back. Bursting back through the door he had just escaped through and saving all three of you.

And well, there are just some situations you can't through without getting closer on the other end.

It's not like you hadn't been friends before but after? Consider you joined at the hip. At some point, Steve realised that you had likely been the most consistent person in his life for, like, ever. Even now, you're here, still sticking around after batting practice on demodogs in the junkyard and busting him out of the Russian base. It's why Steve can't ruin it.

"Okay, there's no need to pout dude. That shit only works on y/n."

Steve blinks, pulled from his thoughts with a soft shake of his head. "M'not pouting." He mumbles, but can't shake the mopey expression in his head.

What a cruel world — you're close, but not close enough and Steve doesn't think he’s allowed to ask for anything more.

Robin sighs, tilting her head to examine Steve as she takes pity on him. Admittedly, she thought 'king steve' wasn't capable of being nervous but it took about three shifts at Scoops together for him to tank that assumption. You were his achilles heel, the crush he could never shake. And now, a year or so later, he was still pouting about it.

"Why haven't you just... tried asking her out?"

"Yeah, right." Steve scoffed but then he gave a sigh, realising he wasn't being helpful. "Look, I do want to— but she’s probably my oldest friend at this point and the last thing I want to do is build myself to ask her out and then try pretend that the rejection won't kill me completely."

In a nervous motion, Steve dragged a hand down his face, muffling a frustrated groan. Robin had the urge to call him a drama queen but held her tongue for once, seemingly aware that he would just keep rambling if she kept silent.

"So, instead I’ve tried, like, drop some hints—"

"Hints?"

"Yes, hints!” Steve repeated, louder this time. “Like, I don't know, lingering touches — the moves I used to put on girls! y/n's seen me pick up chicks before."

"Hello! Are we friends with the same y/n?” Robin's face twisted into a perturbed expression, flinging her hands out in front of her as she spoke. “You know that even if she's picking up any hints, she'd never comment on them. That's like, what she does best."

Steve's brain stopped reeling for a moment, stunned. He couldn’t believe he hadn’t considered that before. Robin barreled on, stealing his attention once more.

"Look," she began, voice softer and sincere. "I can do my best to talk to her but—"

"Yes!"

"But," She emphasized. "No promises, Harrington."

Steve nodded, his heart thundering a little faster at the prospect. "Okay, yeah, wing-woman me."

Then, as if he remembered who his best friend was, Steve raised his brows in her direction. "You know this means you’ll have to say nice things about me."

Robin rolled her eyes. "Surprisingly enough, dingus, I'm a pretty decent wing-woman when I'd like to be."

Steve couldn't contain his snort. "Oh yeah, to who?"

The argument over who was the better wing-person kept them both entertained for the rest of the shift.

—

It’s a little surprising when the tape Robin dumps onto the couch beside you, along with some candied popcorn from work, is Sixteen Candles.

Mainly surprising when you consider Robin’s usual distaste for romance films — “I’ll watch em’ when they start putting the hot ladies with equally hot ladies, instead of bland men.” she had said when you’d first asked.

But obviously, that didn’t seem to apply to tonight.

“Not that I mind,” You begin, picking up the tape and flipping it over in your hands. “But why the genre switch? I thought we said we were watching ‘Once Upon A Time In America’?”

Robin flopped down beside you on the couch, swinging her legs up onto your lap and releasing a sigh large enough it looked as though her entire body deflated a bit.

“I know but I’ve gotta ask you some lovey-dovey questions and this will make you so much more pliable.”

You double-take, mind stuttering as it pings off in every direction. Lovey-dovey questions? Robin gives nothing away, simply cracking open the popcorn and shoveling it into her mouth. Her enthusiasm made you wonder if she’d skipped dinner at work again, too forgetful to bring some with her but Robin only lifted her feet from your lap.

“Be a dear, won’t you?”

Smiling amused, you slid off the couch and unboxed the tape, feeding it into the slot. The screen flickered, grains distorted before it focused and the opening sequence began. You tailed back to the couch, lifting Robin’s ankles and letting them land back in your lap as you sit.

Robin offers the bag of popcorn and you snag a handful, still eyeing her suspiciously. You’re surprised when she stays composed, eyes trained on the screen and you take the hint: she’ll ask her questions whenever she feels like it.

You let yourself enjoy the movie; you’ve seen it a dozen times now, reciting lines along as it goes. “I can’t believe they forgot my birthday.” you whisper along and Robin nudges you with her foot, grinning at your performance.

It’s nearly halfway through the film when Robin finally speaks up, turning her eyes on you — you do your best to pretend the potential questions haven’t been distracting you the whole film.

“So,” she begins and you have the acute feeling that you’re being studied. “Steve.”

“Steve?” you echo, confused, and turn to face her.

“I just noticed he’s been nice to you recently. Extra nice. Abnormally nice. Like I have to beg the dingus to pick me up from parties but he offers you the moment you mention them! Didn’t he bring you a strawberry shake the other day for no reason? Just ‘cos you like them?” In typical Robin-fashion, the words fly out one after the other without a break in between. When she finally pauses, you blink and try to process all her words.

“Yeah, but Steve’s just being nice?” You don’t mean for it to come out as a question but all of a sudden, it’s a great question. Of course, you’ve been secretly reveling in the niceties that Steve gives only to you; your cheeks hot and heart thumping whenever your thoughts drift back to the boy.

“Right?” You ask, the movie is completely forgotten as you try to pick apart the implication of Robin’s words. The next words escape you before you can register what you’re saying. “You don’t think he likes me, do you?”

Even saying the words aloud makes you flush, lips twitching up at the thought and you remember Robin’s scrutinizing gaze a moment too late.

“Aha!” She scrambles up from her spot on the couch, launching over to your side. “I knew it, I knew it. You like him.”

You splutter, trying to recover but it’s fruitless as Robin presses her hands to your cheeks and feels the undeniable warmth of your blush. It doesn’t help that she continues in a sing-song voice, “You’re blushing.”

You huff a laugh and push her hands off your face, resolve crumbling as you admit. “Fine! I just... I didn’t want to read into anything. He could just be being nice, Robs.”

Robin grins, tucking her hair behind her ears as she relents her closeness, leaning back to slouch on the couch now that she gotten you to crack. “Somehow I doubt that. I can’t believe it — I was on the money! I told Steve you’d say something like that.”

For the first time in your friendship with Robin, you’re barely able to keep up. each new sentence sends your mind reeling but by the time you open your mouth, she’s barreling on.

“You have to tell him. obviously. The dingus is completely enamored with you. It’s been drivin’ me crazy at work whenever you come in — I swear he loses at least half his brain cells when you’re nearby.”

“Wha— did he tell you?” You wince at how excited it comes out, unable to help the glee that leaks into your words. Robin, thankfully, doesn’t comment on it.

"No! But it doesn't take an idiot to figure it out."

"Well,” you smile mischievously “You are an idiot."

Abruptly, a pillow hits you over the head, thrown by Robin and you begin to laugh as she pelts you with another, muttering about ‘never trying to set up her shitty friends again.’ "Ow! Okay, I was kidding!"

Robin finally halts her attack and huffs, blowing a stray piece of hair from her face. She fixes you with a pointed look. "You'll be the idiot now if you don't do anything about this."

You can’t help the way the pout on your lips, a thousand excuses rushing up your throat but all that comes out is, “ughhhh.” because Robin is right. Robin is always right.

Your eyes flick to the television and you can see Robin biting her lip in suspense, wondering whether she’ll have to continue playing matchmaker for the next month until one of you bites the bullet and does something.

“We finish Sixteen Candles first,” You point to the television and can’t help the giddy grin, nerves and excitement combined in your stomach. “Then, we plan.”

—

Steve doesn’t know what’s got Robin so antsy.

Sure, half of the time Robin walks around like she’s got ants in her pants, skittish and unable to sit still for too long. But this is a different sort of antsy than Steve has become accustomed to — shit, did she give coffee another try?

Steve does his best to ignore her pacing, pushing the reshelving cart through the aisles idly as he works through the last 20 minutes of his shift. He does manage to get at least half of them done before his attention is stolen again by Robin picking up the phone, 5 minutes before he’s done. Peculiarly, she’s not answering a call but instead making one.

She turns and steals a glance at Steve, then looks at the time and Steve just knows she’s up to something.

Eyes narrowed in suspicion, Steve pushes the cart back to the counter and abandons it, leaning back on the counter opposite Robin. She speaks into the receiver of the phone, clutching it with both hands and Steve feels a pang of worry in his chest — nothing’s happened, right? Before he can get a chance to ask, Robin is slamming the phone down and spins around to face Steve.

“Who was that?”

“Doesn’t matter. The real question, Steve, is why didn’t you shave today?”

The question takes him aback, surprised enough that when Robin comes closer, she gets about an inch within his hair before Steve remembers to duck. He swerves away from her fussing hands, brows raised.

“Woah, woah! What are you doing? You know you can’t touch the hair!” Steve whines, reaching up to fix it. “What’s all the fuss about? Who’d you call?”

Robin, incessantly annoying and usually unable to be quiet for the life of her, is quiet. Seemingly sworn to silence, she just chuckles and shakes her head, eyes bright.

“Nobody!” she says loudly because apparently, she can’t lie very well either.

Steve scrunches his nose, confused. He considers puzzling over it, sure that with enough pressure Robin would crack and release her secrets as she always did. But a glance at the clock tells him it had just hit 6 o’clock. He’s a free man.

Steve shrugs off his vest without a moment to waste, already feeling lighter knowing that he could enjoy the rest of his day off — as much as he enjoys getting paid to stand and chat with his best friend, Keith worked the other half of this day, and any shift with Keith was considered a bad one.

“Okay,” Steve finally speaks, gathering up his items from behind the counter and swinging his keys around his fingers. “Well, don’t burn the place down while I’m gone, alright?”

Robin was nodding fervently, still attached to the desk beside the phone and attempting to look casual. She seemed a tad too distracted, eyes dancing past him into the parking lot of the Family Video store.

“Hey, did you ever— I mean, did you, uh, wing-woman me at all? I know you two had your usual movie night last night.” The words come out more nervous than Steve intends and he clears his throat, willing his cheeks to stay cool.

“Yeah!” Robin responds instantly, the word nearly shouted and Steve blinks, leaning forward into the counter eagerly. He waits for a moment to see what she would say, only growing more confused as she twists her lips to keep any further words from tumbling out.

“So? What— did she seem interested? Do I have a chance?”

“I think,” Robin squeaks, as though she can’t contain the glee in her voice. “You better just go ask her yourself.”

She extends her arm out, one finger pointing out the glass windows to the parking lot. Steve follows it, spinning quickly to spy what she was referring to and— there you are, leaning against his car and looking pretty as ever. You’re reclined against the driver’s door, a book clasped in your hands and your head bent over it, lost in the story.

Steve whips back around, only slightly more nervous than he had been a second ago, and hisses at Robin, as if you could hear them all the way from the parking lot.

“What is that supposed to mean?”

“What d’ya mean ‘what does that mean?’ Go talk to her dingus. I’ve worked my magic.”

Steve pauses, his limbs locked as he scours Robin’s expression to make 100% sure that she wasn’t pulling his leg. It would be a tad too cruel for her usual pranks, some remnant worry leftover from his previous friendship with Tommy H that makes him worry, but Steve relaxes at what he finds on her face. Barely restrained joy, her bottom lip trapped in an attempt to hide her grin.

Despite knowing Steve can trust her with this, it doesn’t deter his nerves which are beginning to feel fried as he peeks over his shoulder, stealing another glance at you leaning against his car.

The peach-coloured sundress you’re wearing flutters in the wind and that doesn’t help either, Steve swallowing down a groan at how bewitching you look, wrapped up in the evening sunlight.

He steels his nerves. With a terse nod to Robin, Steve starts out the door, barely hearing what Robin calls out to him as he goes.

“If you have any lip-balm it would be a good time to—”

The rest of her sentence is sealed inside the store as the door hisses shut. Steve tries not to overthink that sentence, thankful his lips don’t feel chapped as he licks them nervously. He approaches the car, trying his best to shove down the nervous feelings and appear somewhat charming. Harrington Charm, he thinks to himself.

“Hey, stranger.” He greets, an easy smile tugging at his mouth as you look up from your book. He tries not to revel in the delight that perks up your expression, previously furrowed in concentration as you squinted to read your book.

“Hi.” You reply sweetly, snapping the book shut and holding it to your chest as you cross your arms shyly. Then, you seem to think the better of it, spinning and placing it upon the roof of Steve’s car before turning back to him — you hope your smile isn’t giving away your jitters. The plan, you think to yourself, stick to the plan. What was that again?

“Not that m’complaining but I gotta ask wh--”

“Do you trust me?” You don’t mean to cut him off but the words rush out the moment you gather enough courage to say them. “I- I wanna try something.”

He responds too quick. “Sure, yeah, anything.”

A flush crawls up his neck, embarrassed over his over-eagerness that is surely giving him away. But he doesn’t get time to recover, about to stammer out a poor cover-up, because your hands reach up to cup his face and then you’re kissing him.

You’re kissing him.

It’s a whirlwind; there’s a rush of emotions bursting through in Steve’s chest, a sudden surge of utter euphoria wrapped in surprise that sets each of his senses alight. It’s like he’s been struck with lightning, his world cleaved in half — all the moments leading up to this kiss and all the moments that will come after. Everything leading to this, to you.

Your soft and supple lips pause for a moment, prepared to pull back and deal with the damage in case you’ve been led wrong by Robin but Steve doesn’t let you — his hands finally awaken and there is a desperation, a fervor, hidden in the gentle motions of his hands which cup your jaw and pull you closer.

He kisses, deeper this time, as though he’s trying to learn the curve of your mouth all in one go, memorizing it as he drinks in the affection from you. Your hands are in his hair, arms around his neck to pull him evermore closer. Steve swears that he can recognize the warmth of love in the press of your lips, familiar, as you’ve loved each other all this time and yet, it’s new.

The kiss feels like ‘where have you been?’ whispered from both of you, a mixture of desperation and relief.

‘right here. i’m just been waiting for you to find me’.

“You kissed me.” Steve breathes, shock coating each word — the only thing he can think to say after your lips part. It’s uttered with such disbelief that for a moment, you seriously wonder if Robin fed you a whole bunch of nonsense despite the kiss that just set your heart racing.

“I did.” You whisper, eyes darting over his face to try to decipher his expression. Beneath his faint freckles, the skin blooms pink and you hope, you pray it’s a blush — it certainly feels like there’s a fire beneath your skin after that kiss.

“Is that alright?” A moment of worry where your heart feels suspended halfway up your throat but then, he smiles. Bright and brilliant, the spell of shock is broken and it launches him in action, his hands caressing the side of your face tenderly.

“Yes! Holy shit, yes, that’s more than alright, I just—” His sentence breaks off when he captures your lips with his once more and he hums lovingly into the kiss. Something inside you preens, knowing now that he undoubtedly has wanted this as much as yourself.

He pulls back, breath a little ragged “You just took me by surprise, sweet girl.”

The pet-name makes you soften unbearably, leaning into his chest and nuzzling into the hand that holds your cheek. As if your adoration isn’t evident enough, your prepped explanation springs to mind and spills out your mouth without a second thought.

“I'm sorry, I'm not too good with words so Robin thought a kiss would work— and, I'm sorry I missed your hints, I was worried I might be reading into something and mfh—"

Your words are smothered beneath another chaste kiss and you don’t even mind, already stretching up onto your toes to kiss him harder, fingers curling around the fabric of his polo shirt. Breathless is how you feel, pulling back after a moment and feeling something close to drunk off Steve’s kisses — your head is spinning again and it makes your face split into a wide grin, then giddy laughter tumbles out before you can stop it.

“Never—” Steve begins, leaning forward to lean his forehead against your own. The tip of his nose brushes yours and you feel delirious, enchanted by the ardent and affectionate look in his eyes. “ —apologise for kissing me. You can— Christ, you can kiss me anytime you like.”

You’re aware the expression on your face betrays just how enamored you are with him, with this moment; the rays of the setting sun travel through the trees and blanket the parking lot in a soft burnt amber.

“Anytime?” you ask sweetly, reveling in the warmth of his chest under your palms and the fire in his grin.

His eager kiss, fervent and stirring, is answer enough.

—

tags below!

@hawkinsindiana @harringtonbf @parkerroos @cptnleviackerman @skylergisondo @cultivatingkindness @aphrodites-perfume @lurkymurker @familyvideostevie @rogersharringtons @sattlersquarry @yellowharrington @milkiane

#it's a bit long and it feels waffley but hopefully u bitches LIKE waffles #mainly i pray u can't tell if wrote this is two separate batches #is my writing consistent? only tell me if yes otherwise shhhh #KENNY this was the FIRST sweet girl line i wrote and i wrote it AWHILE back hehehe #stevie ur welcome to kiss ME anytime you'd like #he deserves a good smooch #and i volunteer #ruby writes #ruby writes steve #steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #steve x reader #steve harrington fic #steve fic #steve harrington imagine #stranger things #stranger things fic #stranger things imagine

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strangerfreaks · 1 year

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moodboard inspired by no good at waiting by @familyvideostevie

#this fic has consumed me #so here it is #no good at waiting #steve harrington moodboard #bee girl and sweet stevie boy #my absolute beloveds #steve harrington

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cowboyhorsegirl · 1 year

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--Capwolf lies on Tony's side of the bed before they go to sleep to warm it up for him.

--Capwolf always waits patiently outside Tony's door while Tony changes into his pajamas to respect his privacy.

--It never starts out this way, but everytime Tony wakes up he's using Capwolf as a pillow.

I just feel like the whole world would be better if there was more capwolf in it <3 <3 <3

#stevie you have to know that i legitimately gasped reading the first point #like!!!! capwolf is so sweet & considerate i love him!!!!!!!!#i think capwolf is interesting bc it's a version of steve that is allowed to place his loyalty to tony above all else #whereas i feel like most if not all other steve's have so many other duties and responsibilities that come first regardless of whether #he wants them to or not #also . Fluffy and Cute 🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰#capwolf #capwolf!steve #signed sealed delivered #sounds-of-some-day #also idk what capwolf looks like in the comics (though it's not a long run so i should def read it soon) but i imagine him to be a regular #wolf just giant sized #with blue eyes of course but tbh i think he'd be dark gray instead of gold #616 #stevetony #but in any case i love all of these so i am officially #adopting this into my headcanons #my headcanons

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hot-and-confused · 1 year

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for the first time in his life, steve harrington drew himself up to his full height, staring down at his father.

steve only stands an inch or two above him, but it feels like miles. it’s almost dizzying.

steve had stared down interdimensional monsters that stood nine feet tall with less fear than this.

any other adult in hawkins that had spent more than five minutes with him could tell you that steve harrington was a man; and a strong one at that.

he had proved himself over and over, countless times.

from driving kids all over hawkins to baiting himself in front of monsters to keep the kids safe to teaching dustin how to shave. it was undeniable that steven lawrence harrington was indeed all grown up.

the only person who didn’t realize this was robert harrington.

#steve harrington #my sweet baby boy #i’m so proud of him #character development #stevie harrington #steven i am so in love with you #steve come home the kids miss you

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headkiss · 1 year

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i don't think that's a maybe. i think he would definitely need to do that and i think you would absolutely tease him for it on your way out of the store.

"Doesn't take much to get you hot and bothered, does it, Stevie?" He scoffs, although your statement is true because it's you.

(and he definitely quips back but i am too tired to come up with something clever right now)

he’d scoff but then say something cute like “not when it comes to you, babe” because he can’t help it <333

#steve my sweet #anna’s asks #steve harrington #stevie thoughts

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mcdynamite · 4 months

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Kissing has never done all that much for Steve, if he’s honest.

It's just not really something he's ever given much thought to before - the way someone kisses - despite the fact that he's locked lips with plenty of people. For him, kissing has always been something nice, but not particularly special. It's never been earth-shattering. Never taken his breath away, the way people talk about in movies and books. It's just a way to be closer to someone, and it's nice, but it's never anything more than that.

Then, Steve kisses Eddie for the first time, and suddenly he gets it.

They're high when it happens, laying side by side in Eddie's unmade bed while the weed sinks into their bones. Steve loves the way it seems to slow down the world around them - makes everything syrupy and sweet, so he feels every brush of Eddie's fingers against his own in every inch of his body as they pass the joint back and forth.

The casual contact makes him long for more, and when he's high, Steve just...gives into the longing. He lets himself drift closer until they're pressed together so closely that Eddie can hide his face in Steve's uncharacteristically messy hair when he's trying to cover up a snort of laughter in response to Steve's deranged weed-induced musings.

Tonight, they meander their way through a directionless conversation - as they so often do when they get high together - until the joint is so small it nearly singes their fingertips. When Eddie finally sits up to stamp it out in the ashtray on the bedside table, Steve tries not to miss the feeling of Eddie's body against his own too much, knowing it'll be back soon enough.

"I'm thinking of handing over the DM throne to Will for the next oneshot, after we finish this campaign," Eddie says, speech slow and thoughtful as he puts out the blunt. "Think he'll be good at it."

Steve just hums, eyes heavy-lidded, gaze fixed on the curls he wants so badly to run his fingers through, just to know what it feels like. He's high enough to not care about the consequences when he decides fuck it, and reaches out to feel the soft ringlets beneath his fingertips.

"You're good at it," he muses - a delayed response to Eddie's comment. If Eddie is bothered by the way Steve is carefully petting his hair, he doesn't show it. Instead, he turns back to look down at Steve with a soft smile that makes Steve's insides feel all gooey.

"Yeah?" Eddie asks, a hint of a smirk overtaking the softness. "You ready to admit that you like watching me play my little nerd game, Harrington?"

Steve blames the quiet whine that escapes his throat on the weed, along with the way he honest-to-God pouts in response to Eddie's words. He tugs on a lock of Eddie's hair petulantly. "Don't like it when you call me that."

Eddie's face does something strange then, and Steve can't quite parse out what it means with the weed making his brain all foggy. He looks...surprised? Fond? Maybe both?

"Sorry, Stevie," he replies, teasing but somehow genuine at the same time. Steve smiles dopily, an expression that Eddie returns. "That better?"

Satisfied, Steve nods. Hums in affirmation. "Yeah. I like that one."

And it's true. Steve loves when Eddie calls him Stevie, because Eddie always sounds so fond when he does, and it makes Steve's heart feel too big for his chest.

"Oh, yeah?" Eddie asks, still grinning as he leans down until he's propped up on one elbow, hovering just over Steve on the bed. "What else do you want me to call you, hm? Stevie? Steve? M'lord?"

The last one makes Steve laugh and close his eyes, happy to bask in the sound of Eddie's voice as he floats along with their conversation.

"Sir Steven? Sweetheart?" Eddie continues, and Steve's heart jumps just a bit at the second one. Then, Eddie murmurs, "Baby?"

And Steve's eyes fly open.

Steve stares at his friend with wide eyes - lips parted as a soft, punched-out oh escapes him - and it's weird, is the thing. Because Steve has been called baby before, lovingly by his grandmother when he was still a little boy causing mischief while his parents weren't watching, meanly by boys on the playground when he cried over something silly like a scraped knee…and when he got older, teasingly by the girls he took on dates.

It's not a new name for him, but it feels groundbreaking nonetheless.

Because the word sounds so much better coming from Eddie's mouth than anyone else's. It's soft, and fond, and knowing, and...

It's longing.

"Yeah,” Steve croaks. "Yeah."

"Which one? Sir Steven?" Eddie asks playfully, cocking his head to the side like a puppy. He grins maniacally when Steve huffs and shakes his head in disappointment. "No? Which one was it, then, that you liked the most?"

"Eddieeee," Steve complains, burying his flushed face into the pillow and avoiding his friend's gaze. "You know which one."

Eddie shakes his head in an almost scolding manner and Steve is convinced he must've moved closer, because Steve can feel Eddie's breath against his skin, and the air in the room feels about a hundred degrees hotter.

"Nuh-uh, Stevie," Eddie says, poking him playfully in the ribs. "You gotta tell me which one."

Steve hesitates, feeling more and more self-conscious by the second. He sort of wants to hide, but he also really wants Eddie to call him that again. It's probably thanks to his intoxicated brain that he allows himself to answer truthfully. "Baby," he murmurs, uncharacteristically shy.

"Yeah?" Eddie says, voice and smile softening in tandem. "You like when I call you baby, Stevie?"

Steve stares up at him with wide eyes, hardly able to believe this is really happening, and nods. "Yeah. That one."

Eddie is so close, now, that Steve can feel the warmth that emanates from his skin; can see the flecks of gold in his eyes amongst the molten chocolate brown. He's got freckles - Steve realizes. Tiny little dots across the bridge of his nose and the apples of his cheeks that form constellations on his skin. Steve thinks, maybe a bit deliriously, that he would be perfectly happy spending hours tracing them, the way astronomers of old once traced the stars.

"Eddie..." he breathes, heart pounding as he begins to feel more and more desperate for...for something. Anything to let him know that he's not the only one succumbing to the gravitational pull between them.

Eddie blinks slowly, and his eyes widen as though he's just realized something important. Steve watches his throat bob nervously before Eddie finally whispers, "Yeah, baby?"

Steve inhales sharply through parted lips - a soft, plaintive gasp that draws Eddie's eyes to his lips, and-

Oh.

That's what Steve wants, isn't it?

"I-" Steve tries, helpless to stop his own gaze from falling on Eddie's lips - pink and parted and just a little bit chapped, and so, so close.

"Baby," Eddie says again, and this time it's different. Unintentional. Like Eddie said it without meaning to. And maybe it's just the weed, but Steve swears he can feel the word burrowing its way into his chest and settling around his heart like a blanket. It makes his whole body feel warm - something only made worse by the hot coal of desire that begins smoldering low in his gut.

He's so lost in it all that he can't even bring himself to feel embarrassed when he whispers, "Please."

Steve waits with bated breath until finally, any remaining nervousness retreats from Eddie's eyes, and Eddie smiles in that way that makes Steve's stomach flutter. It's such a pretty smile. Steve can only watch as it grows closer, going cross-eyed for the briefest moment in his quest to to stare at Eddie's lips until suddenly his eyes are fluttering shut, because...because...

Because Eddie kisses him with lips still curled into a smile, and Steve thinks - utterly nonsensically - that feeling Eddie's lips against his own is so much better than just looking at them. The thought makes him giggle, just a bit, and he finds himself grinning into the kiss, too.

They part for a moment so Steve can let out another quiet giggle, and Eddie seems to pause for a moment, smiling down at Steve with poorly concealed affection. "Baby," he murmurs reverently, and then he's leaning down to capture Steve's lips in another kiss.

This time, Steve is ready for it, but it draws a muffled whimper out of him nonetheless. His nose fills with the scent of weed and cigarettes and cheap cologne - the smell of Eddie - and it's so overwhelmingly good. He lets his lips fall open on a gasp...doesn't close them when Eddie tentatively brushes his tongue against Steve's own. He shuts his eyes, because the press of Eddie's hand to his cheek and Eddie's chest to his own feel like so much more like that.

Eddie breaks the kiss to gasp in a breath, and inexplicably, that's what really sends every last bit of restraint in Steve's brain packing. It's so simple, so ordinary - the soft, quick sip of air Eddie takes in. It's a breathy little sound that Steve has heard from countless others before, but maybe that's why it puts him in this unfamiliar chokehold of wanting.

This isn't just anyone.

This is Eddie.

And Eddie is making those quiet, lovely little sounds because he's kissing Steve, and Steve is very rapidly realizing that he is utterly incapable of being normal about any of this.

He feels his cheeks go hot as he forces his heavy limbs to move so he can tangle his fingers in Eddie's curls, holding him close (because Steve thinks he might die if Eddie stops kissing him, now). And it's bliss. It's addictive. It's ruinously tender, and Steve feels himself unraveling from within. Feels the knots in his heart - left behind by absent parents, cruel friends, and distant girlfriends - turn to dust at the gentlest brush of Eddie's lips.

He whimpers into Eddie's mouth and clings to him even tighter, feeling his throat grow strangely tight as his eyes sting at the corners, and when Eddie pulls away he's got a small furrow in his brow, just under his bangs.

"Stevie?" Eddie murmurs. His eyes dart to Steve's cheeks, and when he brushes his thumb along the skin just under Steve's eye, it drags a bit of wetness with it. Only then does Steve realize...he's crying.

And Eddie is wiping away his tears.

"I..." Steve croaks, eyes wide and spilling more tears with every blink. He drags his hands down from Eddie's hair to rest on his chest, beginning to curl into himself as the embarrassment sinks in.

Christ, he's crying. And all they've done is kiss.

Eddie's frown deepens, but he doesn't pull away completely. Instead, he lets their noses brush and breathes, "Baby..."

Steve's breath hitches.

"You're shaking, sweetheart," Eddie continues, still brushing Steve's tears away with gentle fingers. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing!" Steve gasps hurriedly, because as far as he understands, it's the truth. "Nothing's wrong, I just..." He closes his eyes. Swallows the lump in his throat and admits with a trembling voice, "I didn't know it could be like this."

He opens his eyes and sees Eddie's expression soften, but the concern remains. "What do you mean?"

"I just..." Steve tries, sniffling and letting out a quiet, distressed laugh. He slams his eyes shut again and rubs them roughly with his palms, trying to force the tears back into his body. "Jesus, this is fucking embarrassing, man."

"Steve..." Eddie murmurs. He sounds sad. Conflicted. Like he's not sure what to do or how to help - if he should stay or go - and that just won't do, because Steve is certain he'll drift away on the breeze without Eddie to ground him. He's got to try to explain, even with his thoughts still feeling syrupy slow from the weed.

He wants to tell Eddie that he's kissed dozens of people before, but kissing them never felt like this. He wants to explain that he's used to taking the lead, and that it's nice having someone else set the pace, for once. He wants to tell Eddie about the way most people he's kissed have done so - frantically...lustfully. Kissing has always been a simple means to an end. And it's never made Steve feel like this.

What he actually manages to say is slightly different, though.

"No one's ever kissed me like they love me, before."

His eyes are still covered by his own hands, so he can't see what is surely a stunned expression on Eddie's face, but he can hear the way Eddie gasps in response to Steve's words.

It’s too much, he thinks. He's said too much, fast-forwarded too far into the movie. It's too early to be talking about love. Steve knows this. It's just...

His stupid, floaty little brain can't envision a world where someone kisses the way Eddie does without being hopelessly, irrevocably in love.

"Shit," Steve breathes after several minutes of silence. Or maybe it's several seconds. He really doesn't know. Time feels funny, when he's high. "I know that's, like, way too much. I'm too much. I don't know why I-"

"Steve," Eddie interrupts, and Steve snaps his mouth shut. He feels Eddie's hands wrap carefully around his wrists to pull them from his eyes. Eddie is being so careful with him...like he can't see that his tenderness is exactly the thing that’s ripping Steve apart at the seams.

Steve wants to scream. He wants to cry. He wants to drag Eddie back down and kiss him until he can't breathe. Until Eddie's sweetness becomes warm and comforting instead of feeling like the scalding heat of jumping into a hot tub after a dip in the cold waters of the pool.

"Baby, look at me," Eddie says softly.

Steve is helpless but to obey.

Eddie's gaze is sad but kind when Steve finally meets it with his own. He's got the barest hint of a smile on his pretty lips - the same ones Steve so desperately wants to feel against his own, again - and Steve feels his stomach swirl with something he can't quite describe.

"It's not too much," Eddie continues, voice steady. "And neither are you, okay? You, Steve Harrington, are never too much. Not to me."

The words settle over Steve like a blanket, and he can't decide whether it's comforting or suffocating. He just wants to stop talking about things so they can move on. He just wants Eddie.

"Eds..." he rasps desperately. "I don't- I just want-" He cuts himself off with the hitching breath of what may be a sob. He's not really sure, at this point.

"What can I do, honey?" Eddie says, and he really needs to stop with the pet names, or Steve might genuinely fracture into pieces. "What do you want?"

Steve is sunk too deep into the syrupy slow feeling of the weed - too desperate to feel Eddie pressed against him again - to do anything but tell the truth.

"Just want you," he says.

Eddie smiles - eyes crinkling at the corners - and Steve breathes the sight in like oxygen. "You have me, baby," Eddie murmurs. He's rubbing small, comforting circle into the sensitive skin of Steve's wrists now, and it's perfect. It's wonderfully, disgustingly perfect.

"I do?" Steve asks dumbly. His brain feels fifteen seconds behind everything, but he thinks that's probably okay. Eddie seems to be just fine waiting for him to catch up.

"Yeah, Stevie," Eddie chuckles quietly. "Had me for a long time, now. Just wasn't sure if you would want me the way I wanted you."

"You want me," Steve says breathlessly, more to himself than to Eddie. "You wanna kiss me."

Eddie's resulting laugh is a bit louder, a bit brighter, this time. "I do," he says. The sadness is fading from his eyes, giving way to something that looks an awful lot like elation. Steve remains still and watches, entranced, as Eddie carefully hauls himself up until he can swing a leg over Steve's to straddle him.

Still smiling broadly, Eddie leans down until their faces are mere inches apart, studying Steve with those big, brown eyes. "You gonna let me?" he asks Steve, a teasing lilt to his voice.

Steve nods, lips parted in surprise he can't quite seem to shake, and Eddie's expression softens.

"Gonna let me kiss you like I love you, Stevie?" Eddie whispers.

Steve's not sure when, exactly, his tears had begun to dry up, but he knows they must have at some point, because they're returning with a vengeance, now. "Please," he breathes.

Eddie shifts, and Steve expects Eddie to go right back to kissing him, but that's not what he does.

Instead, Eddie releases one of Steve's wrists and cups his cheek tenderly. This time, the feeling of his thumb brushing the tears away is a familiar one, and it makes Steve smile dopily.

"You know the reason I kiss you like I love you?" Eddie asks. Steve shakes his head and tracks Eddie's gaze as it drifts towards the place where his fingers are still wrapped around Steve's wrist. His lips quirk into a smile as he uses his grip to pin Steve's hand to the mattress, right beside Steve's head, and laces their fingers together.

Their noses are brushing, now, and Eddie's hips are resting on Steve's, and Eddie's hair has fallen around them like a curtain to keep the rest of the world out, and it's so much. Eddie is everywhere, and he's everything, and Steve is completely, unquestioningly in love with him - probably has been in love with him for ages, now, and just never let himself think too hard about it.

"I kiss you like I love you, Steve Harrington," Eddie breathes, and their lips brush as he speaks. "Because I love you."

And the thing is…Steve has spent his entire life wondering what it would feel like to know, without a shadow of a doubt, that he was loved. It's something that's eluded him for twenty years.

So it's all the more miraculous when Eddie kisses him again, and suddenly, Steve knows. He knows that Eddie Munson loves him. He feels it in the way Eddie kisses him slowly and deliberately, like it would never have crossed Eddie's mind not to. He feels it in their linked hands, in the way Eddie squeezes his hand when Steve makes a desperate, wanton sound into his mouth.

He feels it when Eddie brushes the hair out of his eyes and smiles before kissing Steve's forehead, then his nose, and then his lips again.

Feels it when Eddie's lips begin to wander down his neck.

When Eddie sucks a mark into the thin skin above his collar bone, just because Steve begs him too.

When Eddie pulls Steve's shirt over his head with careful hands, then lets Steve do the same, because Steve needs the intimacy of skin on skin.

He feels it when Eddie stops Steve's wandering hands from venturing too far south with a firm grip and apologetic eyes, because Eddie wants him - of course he does - but not when they've been smoking. Not when there's even the slightest chance that Steve might wake up and regret it in the morning.

And he hears it, too, later that night when they're laying in Eddie's bed exchanging soft, sleepy kisses, unwilling to drift off and let the night end, just yet.

Their legs are woven together - bare, aside from their boxers - and Steve has lost track of how long they've been tangled up in each other like this. He doesn't particularly care, though. He's pretty sure he could happily spend the rest of his life exactly like this.

"Love you, Stevie," Eddie whispers against his lips. They both smile into the next kiss, and Steve's heart is full to bursting, because he believes it. He knows, now, what it feels like to be loved...to be adored.

"I love you," he murmurs in reply, relishing in Eddie's sharp intake of breath. He giggles a bit, for no reason other than the pure joy that's been coursing through his body all night. "God," he laughs. "I fucking love you, Eddie Munson.

Eddie is quiet for a moment before his face splits into a grin that could rival Steve's own, and he's so goddamn beautiful that Steve almost feels like crying again.

He doesn't cry, though. He just watches adoringly as Eddie smiles and nudges Steve's nose with his own. "Yeah, baby?" Eddie teases.

"Yeah, Eds," he answers simply.

And he's pretty sure Eddie knows - is pretty sure Eddie can feel it - because Steve kisses him for the umpteenth time that night, and he pours every ounce of his heart into it.

Steve kisses Eddie like he loves him, because he does. God, help him, he does.

And Eddie?

Eddie kisses Steve like he loves him back, and Steve gets it now, because it’s more than just a kiss.

It’s perfect.

It’s earth-shattering.

It’s everything.

Shout-out to @lyphyshard for the beta!

For more of my Steddie blurbs and one-shots, check out my masterlist!

#steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #soft steddie #steddie fluff #steddie fic #steddie ficlet #first kiss #cw: weed #stranger things #i'm so normal about them

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ssweetleaf · 2 months

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stevie really loves fingering you while making out so you can cry against his mouth and he can sloppily make out with your neck and just be close to you while you cry for him

includes: SMUT 18+, fingering, daddy kink, praise

˗ˏˋ ♡ ˎˊ˗

You were sobbing into his kiss, mouth parted and tongue lolling from your mouth, little dribbles of spit sliding down your chin with how fucked out you felt from just his fingers alone.

Steve’s thick digits pumped inside of you, curling upwards and nudging at that sweet spot that resided in your gummy walls, easing out whiny mewls, just to swallow them down when he pressed his mouth on yours.

“There ya go, atta girl,” he mumbled, speech muffled from your spit slick lips, running his tongue along your teeth and sucking on your tongue, crude, wet sounds filled the stuffy bedroom. “Don’t even have to think, honey, I’ll do all the thinkin’ for ya.”

You garbled out a high-pitched moan, squealing when he brought his thumb up to rub against your poor little clit. Steve pressed kisses to any expanse of skin he could find, suckling at your neck and marking you as his, pupils blown completely, the only thought in his head was you and your sweet pussy.

“Daddy’ll do all the work, don’t you worry, hon.” You whined at his nickname, feeling yourself completely drop into that subby space, pussy clenching tight, creaming on his fingers, your arousal squelching and slipping down his wrist.

He mouthed at your neck, nuzzling his face into the crook of it and nudging his nose over your pulse point, sponging a fat, wet kiss to the thumpthumpthump of your heartbeat he felt.

“Could do this for hours, sweet girl,” he hummed, eyes squeezing shut at the throbbing inside his pants. “Love having my fingers inside you just as much as I love havin’ my mouth on ya, honey.”

#Steve harrington smut #Steve harrington x reader #steve harrington blurb #steve harrington headcanon #steve harrington imagine #stranger things x reader #stranger things smut #stranger things blurb #stranger things headcannon #stranger things imagine

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certifiedlovergirlsstuff · 2 months

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maybe a lil fic with steve yk like he thinks you're together but r just thinks that they're just friends cuz she thinks he acts that way with everyone (he doesn't). so when he's like "we're going on that dinner date, right?" and she's just so confused and flabbergasted "since when did we start dating??"

I've missed your writing on my dashboard ily<3

i’m glad someone misses my writing. i hope this is okay🩷

steve harrington x fem!reader (this ended up being long… i’m shocked)

masterlist

“here comes loverboy.”

your brows pinched together at max’s words. looking over your shoulder to see steve leaving the register, heading back towards your booth with a pastel pink box in hand.

the boy slid into the open seat beside you. shoulder to shoulder and thigh to thigh. his warmth radiating off his body blankets you from the february chill that seeps into the diner’s walls.

“what’s in the box?” robin questioned while making a grab for it. steve quickly slapped- gently tapped- the approaching hand away. robin making a scene for no one.

“not for you, buckley. for my favorite girl.” and steve looked directly at you.

“aw, thanks steve-o.” max fawned. a simple giggle slipped from your mouth while steve rolled his eyes. “not for you either, rugrat. only for my favorite, most special girl.” finally sliding the pastry box in front of you.

steve tapped his fingers against the table top, “they had your go-tos so i got one of each.” your cheeks warmed as you opened the top, “you didn’t have to, stevie.”

“yeah, stevie. what about us?” robin pointed between her and max, a twisted pout to her face.

steve eyed them, “what about you two? get your own stuff.” huffing like they were insane to think steve would do anything of that level for them.

eyeing the different options you grabbed a donut and proceeded to spilt the item into four small bites. handing off two for max and robin, replacing them with another two, one for you and the other for steve. hand waiting for steve, he wrapped his fingers around your wrist delicately as he bites into his awaiting treat. you chuckle at the silliness.

“you too are gross.” robin declared with her mouth full. steve copied her actions, “says you. close your mouth while chewing.” placing his hand over his mouth in after thought.

“so,” speaking up to change the subject, “any nice plans this week?” referring to valentine’s day on wednesday.

“lucas says he’s taking me some place special, which might be the arcade.” max played it cool but you could tell it affected her in a good way.

“band practice is my special valentine. can’t complain too much.” robin punctuated her sentence with a sip of water.

“what’s the dynamic duo gonna do on the day of love?” max teased, batting her lashes while cupping her cheeks.

you shrugged, “don’t think we have plans-“ “yes we do.” steve is quick to fix you misunderstanding.

there was a surprised spark in your eyes, “we do?”

steve’s brows furrowed, “yeah. i told you about the dinner date i scheduled.” now your bows scrunched, “yeah, but i thought you were going on a date.”

steve leaned towards you, “i am. with you.” punctuation on those two words, letting every letter hit you in the face.

you sat shell shocked, eyes focused over steve’s shoulder while robin and max almost jumped from their vinyl seats.

“for real?” “since when were you dating?”

at the word dating you shook away any incoming thoughts and waves away their curiosity. “we’re not dating. we’re just friends. steve’s like this with everyone.” knowing that would end any discussion.

three sets of eyes stared you down, you wanted to shrink into the ground from the attention. “what?” a squeak at their baring eyes.

“steve is only sugary sweet to you. do you not remember five minutes ago? when he bought you treats, without you asking, then told me and max to fuck off.” robin questioned.

“language-“ “i didn’t say that-“

max waved you both off, “whatever. what robin is trying to get at is, you are dating. steve openly flirty banters with you, you reciprocate in a flustered mess, and steve has hearts beaming from his corneas.” max’s palms smack onto the table.

your mouth opened, then closed. open, close, open, close. “i just,” you hands flapped about, “i- i thought he just- you know…”

“no we don’t, but please, tell us.” robin eyed you wolfishly.

anxiously you pinched the skin around your fingers, teeth biting into your bottom lip, eyes darting everywhere not knowing what your next move was.

“alright, enough teasing. let’s just get everyone home.” steve broke the silence. sliding out beside you then holding a waiting hand out, you couldn’t help but just to stare at it, like it might bite you or something.

“it’s alright, sweetheart. we’ll talk later.” soft, kind filled brown eyes watched your movements as you set your palm to his and he help you exit the booth smoothly. steve gave a squeeze before releasing his hold and your chest felt heavy again.

he called you sweetheart. he usually throws pet names about, but this one just felt… different. your brain connected to it differently.

robin and max were silent on the drive to their houses, radio at medium volume, but they kept the backseat of the bmw silent as a church mouse.

you could barely look steve’s way, barely glance at him from your peripheral. he didn’t seem tense from your words just… dejected. a gloomy cloud hanging over his head and it’s because you friend zoned him while he thought you both were together.

no chance he wants to be with you now, blew it for yourself before you even had a proper chance. you wallow in silence.

robin was the first to be dropped off. steve came to a slow stop in front of her tiny house, shifting into park so he could look back with a gentle smile, “call if you need anything. and try not to do anything clumsy.”

robin rolled her eyes in a playful manner, “i’ll try not to dad.” and she left with a comforting squeeze of your bicep.

steve waited until robin waved you off an closed her front door. “okay mayfield, home or someplace else?” he always asked when driving her.

“umm, wheeler’s. please.” yeah, she felt sorry about earlier. her please and thank you’s were a bit sparring.

again silence. you wanted to speak, but with max still in the car you held your tongue. pinching at the material of your jeans while eyeing the scenery passing by in a blur, you couldn’t help flinching at the touch of skin covering your own. you looked down cautiously to see steve’s right hand resting over your fidgeting one, stopping your mindless action.

the fifteen minute drive pasted into two minutes when you saw the big two story home come into view. you saw a couple of bikes laying in the front yard and suspected the boys also were invading the family home.

“thanks for the ride. i’ll be fine to get home later.” shuffling mixed with her words before popping the left back door open. a soft thud followed her exit then she stopped outside your window and lightly tapped.

you rolled it down with concern at her sorrow filled expression. “i’m sorry. about earlier. i wasn’t trying to-“

“max,” cutting her off, “it’s okay. i know you didn’t mean harm and plus, might’ve opened my eyes today.” playing coy with your words.

a smile flickered at her lips while her eyes looked over your shoulder. she left with a pep to her step and you were finally alone with your steve.

“so wanna-“ “did you really think we weren’t dating?”

you could help your light chuckle, “getting straight to the point i see.”

steve sputtered, “i just- it felt like we’ve been on multiple dates. and- and we’re very touchy with each other, always there for each other. i just- i just thought we were dating after the trip to chicago.”

that did turn into a pretty romantic trip now that you thought back on certain scenarios. “i think i’m just blind to romantic advances. didn’t think i was your type.” mumbling the last part.

you’ve seen the girls steve’s been with in the past. all perfect, petite, not quite hair out of place and makeup painted over delicate skin. you weren’t those things, you were messy at times, flyaways sticking up from nonexistent static, stains appearing on your clothes without knowing.

you didn’t deserve steve, he deserved someone-

“hey.” a finger crooked under your chin and moved your head from its slumped position. steve homely brown eyes darted over your face, your imperfections. you wanted to flinch away. he must’ve read your mind since her cupped your cheeks with his warm palms.

“you are none of those things i know your thinking too much about. you are completely deserving of being loved deeply and i’m happy to be that person to pour his soul into yours. if you’ll verbally say yes so we’re on the same page this time.”

your own hands wandered to hold onto steve’s wrist, “that was quite romantic of you. didn’t think of you to be a sap.” deflecting a bit from nerves.

steve smiled brightly, “for you i’ll always be a sap. practically turn into honey for you.” leaning over his console to press a kiss onto the tip of your nose. “so what do you say, wanna give us a proper go?”

you bit into your bottom lip, “i guess i could try.” smiling so wide your cheeks ached as steve dotted kisses over your face, not suppressing your giggles of glee.

#steve harrington imagine #steve harrington x reader #stranger things imagine #steve harrington #steve harrington fic #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington blurb #steve harrington x female!reader #erin's blurb request

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sergeantbarnessdoll · 1 month

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Katherine’s horny thought has been sent to you: 💌

Bucky Barnes is a feral man when it comes to his girl and seeing her being friendly with Steve…he cannot contain himself anymore. You gotta share something angsty and smutty babe. For all of us. 🤍

Here’s a promt:

“Are you trying to make me jealous doll? Cause it’s fucking working.”

You’re Mine » Bucky Barnes/Winter Soldier

Pairings: Boyfriend!Bucky Barnes x Girlfriend!Reader

Summary: Bucky makes sure his best girl knows that she’s his and only his when he sees her getting a little to friendly with Steve.

Warnings: Angst, Smut (18+), language, mentions of alcohol, jealousy, kissing, hickeys, fingering, unprotected sex, daddy kink, metal arm kink, praise kink, praise kink, choking, degrading, name calling (slut), use of pet names

A/N: Thank you for requesting @katherineswritingsblog 🩷

Written on my phone. I’m sorry for any mistakes and typos.

Header made by @buckys-wintersoldier

GIF IS NOT MINE! Credit goes to the creators.

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!!🔞

Bucky watched from across the room as your hand rubbed Steve’s bicep, giving it a squeeze. His right hand was clutching the glass so tight that it could shatter any second. Bucky’s jaw clenched when you kissed Steve on his cheek. That was the last straw for him. Bucky downed the rest of his whiskey and slammed the glass on the table, not caring if he broke it or not.

“Hey doll, we better call it a night. We have that thing to do tomorrow.” Bucky says, grabbing your upper arm.

“What thing?” You asked, furrowing your eyebrows in confusion.

“You know what I’m talking about.” He says, tightening his grip on your arm, making you wince slightly.

“Oh yea!” You went along with it. “Goodnight, Stevie.” You say, kissing Steve’s cheek again.

Bucky practically drug you out of the room to the elevator and to yours and his shared bedroom. He closed and locked the door the second you two got in the bedroom. He then pinned you against the wall.

“Are you trying to make me jealous, doll? Cause it’s fucking working.” He practically growls.

“Now you know how I feel, James.” You say with sass in your tone.

Bucky chuckles and shook his head.

“So this is what that little stunt was about, huh?” He starts. “You decided to flirt with Steve cause I was talking to that girl at the coffee shop yesterday.” He says.

“More like flirting.” You say with an attitude.

Bucky grasped your jaw, making you look straight at him. His blue eyes were filled with jealousy, anger, and lust.

“How many god damn times do I have to tell you? I told her that I have a girlfriend and wanted nothing to do with her.” He says, almost gritting his teeth.

“That’s not what I saw!” You say.

“What did you think you seen, babydoll?” He asks.

“You were flirting with her! That’s what I seen and heard!” You say.

“And you think that it makes it right to flirt with my best friend?” He says.

“I wanted to give you a taste of your own medicine.” You say.

Bucky scoffs and shakes his head.

“Let me tell you something, babydoll…” His face got closer to yours, his lips inches from yours. “You’re fucking mine. Not Steve’s. Mine.” Bucky growls.

The next thing you know, you hear the sound of fabric tearing. Bucky just ripped off your dress. You didn’t even have time to react to it cause he yanked your panties down your legs and picked you up. You instinctively wrapped your legs around his waist. Bucky almost immediately latched his lips on your neck, his teeth biting down hard enough to mark you up. A moan left your lips when his metal fingers rubbed your clit. His fingers found their way to your wet entrance, circling it teasingly before unexpectedly sliding two metal fingers inside of you. His fingers fucked you fast while his metal thumb rubbed your clit. You threw your head back against the wall, moans of his name leaving your lips.

“Oh daddy!” You moaned.

His fingers found your sweet spot almost immediately. Your pussy clenched around his fingers every time his fingers hit it.

“You’re such a fucking slut for me.” Bucky almost whispers. “I bet I can get you to cum in seconds just with my metal fingers.” He says.

You couldn’t form any coherent words. Moans and whimpers left your lips the more he degraded you. Honestly, you fucking love it when he degrades you. Bucky knows it turns you on. That’s why he does it.

His fingers were hitting all of the right spots, massaging your wet and warm walls and hitting your sweet spot causing your cunt to squeeze around his fingers. Your orgasm was building up quickly.

“I bet you’re so close, aren’t you, doll?” Bucky taunts. “You want to cum, don’t you?” He says.

“Yes please, daddy!” You whimpered.

“That’s too bad.” He abruptly took his fingers out of your pussy and leaving you frustrated. “You’re not gonna cum for a while.” He says, making you whine in frustration.

Bucky walked you over to the bed, dropping you on it. You propped yourself up on your elbows and watched as Bucky stripped himself out of his clothes. You looked down at his hard cock and licked your lips.

“My eyes are up here, doll face.” Bucky says, snapping his fingers.

“Shut up and fuck me.” You sassed.

Bucky spread your legs and got in between them. A loud moan left your lips when Bucky thrusted his cock inside of you in one thrust. You decided to test him more.

“Is that all you got? I’m sure Steve can give me more.” You say tauntingly.

A growl left Bucky’s lips. His metal hand wrapped around your throat, squeezing a little bit. He put his hand on the headboard above your head and began pounding into you. Your nails left red scratch marks on his back. Loud moans left your lips.

“Say that again. I fucking dare you.” Bucky growls. “Steve doesn’t know your body like I do. He wouldn’t know how to touch you like I do.” He says.

Pleasure took over your body. Bucky’s cock was hitting your sweet spot repeatedly. His fingers on his right hand found their way to your clit and began rubbing to the point where you were sensitive. Your pussy squeezed around his cock.

“Daddy, please!” You whined. “Please let me cum!” You begged. “I’ll be a good girl!” You whined again.

“I don’t think so, babydoll. You’re not gonna cum until I do.” He says.

“But daddy!” You whined.

“Quit your fucking whining.” He says, applying light pressure on your throat.

You tried your best to not cum, but it was so hard. His cock kept hitting your sweet spot, making you want to cum. Bucky pulled you into a rough kiss, his tongue slid past your parted lips and explored every inch of your mouth.

“You want to cum so badly?” Bucky asks. “Prove to me that you deserve to cum.” He says.

“I won’t ever flirt with Steve again. I promise to be a good girl and listen to what daddy says.” You say, followed by a whimper.

“You better be a good girl and do what I say.” He starts. “Cum for daddy, doll.” He whispers.

Your eyes rolled to the back of your head and a loud moan of his name left your lips as you came hard, soaking the sheets beneath you. Bucky’s thrusts became sloppy and he came inside of you. He thrusted a few more times before pulling out and laid down next to you. Both of you were sweaty and panting.

“Flirt with Steve again and I won’t hesitate to tie you to the bed and edge you.” Bucky says.

🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵

-Bucky’s Doll

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formosusiniquis · 3 months

Text

This one goes out to that old guy I saw at walmart yesterday loading up his pioneer woman cookware onto his motorcycle while enter sandman played

steddie | G | WC: 1154

---

“Hey baby, can you?”

“No.”

Steve's sweet tone sours immediately returning to the much more familiar gently bitchy tone Eddie knows and loves. “You don't even know what I was gonna ask.”

“Twenty-five years of marriage, lawful and not, Sunshine. I know when you're about to ask me for some shit we don't need.”

“Why would I be calling you if we didn't need it?”

“Because if you needed it you would have told me about it when I said, ‘Stevie, sweetie, light of my life, sun to my dawn,’” he looks around trying to figure out where the hell they moved the oranges and why the produce section is never in the same configuration anytime he comes here. He makes eye contact with a kid wearing an artificially faded printing of his own tour merch looking at him with a starry eyed look of recognition not of the celebrity but of family.

“Did you forget where you were going with that old man?”

He decides he might as well put on a show, both halves of this conversation already know he's going to do what he's told. “‘Stevie, my one truth north, my muse, my reason to continue living, my dearest husband, I'm going to Walmart,’ I told you not but thirty minutes ago and asked if you needed me to get you anything and you said no.”

“Oh, you aren't going to monologue for your adoring public all the sweet names I called you?” Steve is amused, he can tell, he's always been able to tell. He's accepting this as his penance for not giving Eddie an actual grocery list when he left.

“Well dear heart I am in public, but if you think we can find another grocery store to go to after getting banned from this one. I guess there is the Kroger on the other side of town.” The kid laughs, tries to hide it behind their hand, but if Eddie has had anything in this life it's experience with teens eavesdropping on conversations they shouldn't be.

“Oh you're really hamming it up, huh, Teddy. Can I tell you what you're getting me yet or do you still have a couple minutes in your set?”

He's given up on oranges, moves on to the onion he actually came here for, the lone ingredient for dinner that he'd forgotten from his clicklist. If they want to actually have the roast tonight it needs to start soon. “What is it that you remembered we needed, oh song of my heart.”

“I already sent you the link so you get exactly what I want.”

It's just ominous enough of a non-answer that he pulls his phone out of his pocket, juggling it and the five things he'd already grabbed that weren't on his one item list. He doesn't have the time to regret not grabbing the cart he was sure he hadn't needed when he sees what he's been sent.

“I'm on my bike! Where am I going to put that?”

“I'm sorry, am I hearing you correctly? Was I right when I said, ‘Teddy bear, my stars, my bard-’”

“You aren't on speaker.”

“My beloved damsel in distress, maybe the motorcycle isn't the most efficient of midlife crisis vehicles. Aren't you going to want something with more trunk space, why don't you get a Caddy or a Bimmer for old times sake. And what did you say?”

“I don't recall.”

“Probably for the best wouldn't want you banned from Walmart, what would the tabloids say?”

“Nothing that would match your wit, Sweetheart. Does it have to be this one?”

“Yes, the plaid matches the kitchen remodel, so be a good boy and strap it to your bike. And remember we've still got one kid to put through school if she decides to go, don't bring home any strays with you. Do you need to do your encore now, baby?”

“I accept your quest, my dashing prince. I shall return home with my bounty posthaste.” Encore complete, audience still enraptured, Eddie dips into the sincere. It's been nearly thirty years together and he's not once ended a call without saying, “I love you.”

“Love you too, my knight in denim battle vest. I'll see you when you get home.”

The call ends with the usual dull toned beep beep, the playlist the call interrupted starts to filter back into his earbud. He realizes he's going to have to walk right past the kid to get to the side of the store with Steve's Instant Pot.

“Hear they're about to have a reunion tour,” he says gesturing down at the reprint of their Came Back Wrong Tour shirt. The faux-fading has left a crack through his own face at the bottom making him unrecognizable, not that he looks the same now as he did at 25. “Those old bands just don't know how to retire.”

“I think it's smart that they're playing up the recent tik tok fame.” The kid says, “No one's even seen their lead singer since the 90s and after their first national tour he'd started wearing that mask.”

It hurts a little bit the way the kid says 90s like it's some bygone era lost to time. Tries to appreciate instead how good the mask idea had been, he'd really been an innovator. “That was a pretty sweet gimmick, you think he'll bring it back? It's kind of Orville Peck's thing now isn't it.”

The kid slumps, managing the impressive feat of looking desolate while standing over the tomatoes. “Probably, not that I'll see it. I couldn't manage to get a ticket.”

That is something he can fix, “Here,” he manages to grab ahold of his wallet, “as luck would have it, I've got a couple spares.”

The kid looks torn between fear and elation, it's likely at least the second strangest thing to ever happen to them in a Walmart. “Oh I can't-”

“No strings, I got it through work for my sister-in-law to go with my husband. She asked why none of the good bands ever have reunion tours so… not going obviously. And my husband insists he's too old to be that close to the stage. You'd be doing me a favor really.”

“If you're sure,” they say, the hesitance more a mannered necessity than real.

“Sure as shooting. Seriously, here give me your name so my husband knows who to make the thank you note out to.”

“Aspen, thank you really!”

Twenty minutes later when he’s got a kitchen appliance bungied to the back of his bike he’ll appreciate that something good came out of this. Three weeks later when he’s standing at the front of a sold out arena he’ll mostly appreciate another chance to be dramatic, “This next one is for Aspen who didn’t laugh when an old man tried to flirt with his husband in the produce aisle. Gareth, count me in.”

#steddie #steddie fic #old man steddie #rockstar eddie munson

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taintedcigs · 3 months

Text

thigh-riding with steve. bc i can’t stop thinking about him and he’s the cutest and i luv him okay bye <3

warnings: thigh riding. dom!steve kinda? kinda degrading, kinda praises, nicknames and allll that <3

MINORS DNI!!!!!!

you hated, scratch that, loathed, when steve had to work over hours. strapped to his desk, head not even getting up from whatever paper work he had that week.

especially, when you were this desperate and horny, just needing a sweet release, needing his cock inside of you, stretching you out fully. yet, he barely paid any attention to you, all you got from him was yes and no answers and a few grunts, making you huff.

so when you begged him to let you ride his thigh while he was doing his work, you never expected a yes, and a low groan of “c’mere.” as he pulls you omto his lap, and you’re quick to straddle his thigh.

“you’re being the biggest fuckin’ brat right now, sweetheart, and i’m not in the mood, so get yourself off and shut up, yea?” you nod swiftly, and your hands are quick to wrap around the nape of his hair, your head lulling to the croon of his neck while you quietly grind yourself on his thigh, whimpers muffled as he doesn’t pay any mind to you.

and of course you’re not wearing any panties under your thight skirt, just to get him riled up more, and he can feel your wetness soaking his sweatpants, making him let out quiet grunts. he tries to ignore it, but his cock stirs at how desperate and pathetic your mewls are, and how good you look straddling his thigh, your warmth covering him.

his cock aches in his boxers, and he knows he can’t focus any longer because you’re so fucking perfect like this and judging by the way you keep slowing down he knows you can’t even get yourself off without him.

“look at you,” he coos, his rough hands wrapping around you, “poor baby… can’t even get yourself off, can you?” he mocks with a slight huff, and you’re quick to nod, doe-eyed gaze begging for more from him.

“you need me to make you cum, isn’t that right?” he hums, pushing his leg up into you as you’re quick to clench around his thick thighs.

with a bruising hold on your hips, he guides you back and forth, his knee jerking up in rhythm to create the perfect amount of friction and pressure on your clit that has you pathetically whining for him.

the quiet “stevie!” that leaves your lips making him moan, bulge pressing tighter against his uncomfortable boxers. he knows you’re close, and he wants nothing more than to give his pretty girl what she wants, what she needs.

“you gonna cum for me honey, hmm?” he grunts, pressing his knee harder into you, making you cry out as you nod frantically. “jesus fuckin’ christ, look at you, cryin’ out, fuckin’ my thigh… such a desperate slut for me aren’t ya, baby?” his smirk grows wider, cockier.

“p—please stevie,” is all you can manage to let out, tear-streaked eyes begging for some release, making him pout.

“go ahead, honey. cum for me. make a mess on my thighs,” he growls into your ear, leaving wet kisses all over the shell of your neck, his flexed thigh rubbing more and more into your clit, and that sweet, sweet spot, making you let out a loud moan of his mame.

pleasure washes over you so quickly that your body feels limb, back arching, and your cunt pulsates around his leg, making a mess on his thigh, all filthy and making him proud.

“such a good girl f’me, now lay down on the desk and let me clean you up, honey.”

#steve harrington x reader #steve harrington smut #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington blurbs #steve harrington drabbles

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buckyalpine · 5 months

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Imagine Mob Bucky with his sweet little Bambi. She’s such a shy sweet thing and even though he’s had her countless times, naked and crying on his cock. She still hesitates to touch his most private places and can’t help the way her face heats up with just one look of those blue eyes.

“But-but they’ll hear” she whispers with wide eyes, her hands shaking as he guides her to wrap around his thick cock. Bucky’s thighs were spread wide apart, his slacks pulled down while he guided her under his desk.

“What will they hear pretty baby” he raised a brow while she shifted on the ground, still on her knees. “Are you shy baby? Shy they’ll hear how good you suck me? How slutty and soppy this pretty little mouth gets? Or are you scared they’ll hear what a whore you sound like when you’re stretched open around my cock, which is it”

You whimpered, knowing Bucky’s right hand man was stationed right out side of his office, his best friend of all people guarding the doors of his boss.

“Are you worried Stevie will hear you baby?” Bucky cooed, gentle holding the back of your head, pulling you to his dripping head. “He won’t hear a thing as long as you’re quiet Bambi”

He hissed feeling your soft tongue hesitantly swipe across his silky pink tip, lapping and suckling like a needy kitten as soon as you got a taste.

“Such a good girl for me” he groaned, cupping your cheeks before pushing his hips forward, shoving his length down your throat, “taking all of daddy’s big dick down her throat huh”

He smirks at the way you claw at his thighs while your legs squeeze together, his poor needy princess trying to give herself some relief.

“Bambi, what is it honey, why are you squirming so much”

You shake your head with your mouth full, too innocent to ask for what you want. Which is exactly why he sighs and picks you up off the floor and lays you on his desk, shoving your panties aside before you can protest.

“Daddy, no-daddy!” You slap your hand over your mouth as he stuffs his cock into your pussy, setting in a brutal pace without warming you up first. He grabs your hand away from your mouth, pinning your hand against the solid wood desk with a feral look on his face.

He knows his men are outside, he knows how some of them look at you. Hell, he even knows how Steve looks at you. Bucky wasn’t about to share but he’d give them a glimpse of how lucky he was, moving his hand to wrap around your throat while fucking your brains out.

“Fuckin’ scream! Scream, let them know how much you love my cock!”

“I-I-love I-it!!” You wailed, no longer able to contain your voice, taking every thrust he gave you. “I love it daddy, I love it!!”

“Yeah I bet you do, bet you love knowing my guys can hear you. Bet you love knowing they all stroke their dicks thinking’ bout you huh? Even Stevie’s probably got his hand down his pants thinking about your tight pussy and the sounds you’d make”

Your eyes nearly crossed, voice hoarse from the way you moaned, you’d back arching off the table.

“You act all innocent but you love when guys get all horny for you, don’t you baby. You loving knowing they cum cause they thought of you. Perverted fucks watching my girl, fucking probably jerking themselves right now. Now they’ll know what you sound like. Too bad it’s only my cock that makes you sound like this Bambi”

“Oh god daddy I-I” you slurred, squirting and gushing around his cock without warning, the shut alone making Bucky’s hips stutter.

“Lookit you squirting for me baby, god your a nasty little slut, so fuckin good for me, m gonna cum so fuckin hard for you princess. Gonna fill you up till the room smells of me marking you, you’re gonna walk out of here with my cum dripping between your legs”

Bucky moaned with his head thrown back, possessive over letting everyone know how he owned you.

“Let them all see all the places you let me shove my cock into. That you let daddy empty his cock rigt in your pussy-fuckkk!!”

With a guttural moan he stilled with his cock shoved in as far as it would go, cumming til the desk was a mess.

We don’t talk about how Steve came in his pants immediately after. We don’t talk about how he’s gonna touch himself again tonight. We don’t talk about how next time bucky might let him watch in person while Steve’s handcuffed with his perverted little dick out on full display, leaking and aching while you get railed by his best friend.

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violentdelightsandviolentends · 3 months

Text

Cherry Wine. aka - Cherry, Part Two.

everything feels like love when you're drunk... right?

pairing - bestfriend!steve harrington x female reader

warnings - smut. cursing. alcohol consumption. characters who wouldn't even recognise their own feelings if they smacked them in the face.

word count - 3k

author's note - I love it when people walk each other home... if you couldn't tell. I think some of our most honest conversations happen on the street at 3am. thank you so much for all the love on Cherry!! I hope you enjoy this part two. friends to lovers might just be my favourite trope ever. it gets me everytime :(.

as always, if you enjoyed, please reblog!! reblogs are the only way to circulate my fics <3. thanks, angels.

part one. part three. series masterlist. masterlist. inbox.

His eyes are glued to you.

They have been since he watched you pour just a little too much cherry vodka into your red plastic cup.

He keeps trying to catch your gaze across the smoky room, multicoloured lights clouding his vision. There's some sort of punk song playing through a stereo system somewhere, the beat of the guitar thumping through the wooden floorboards and into Steve's bones.

You're laughing, head thrown back at something Eddie has said. He's funny, Steve thinks. But not that funny. He watches carefully, refraining from intervening right up until the moment you almost trip over your own foot and into the curly haired boy. Steve's moving across the room before he can even process it.

"Cherry," he teases, hand snaking around your waist to hold you upright. "You okay?"

You turn in his hold to throw your arms around his neck, looking up at him with big doe eyes.

"Stevie."

You say his name so sweet that he stumbles and almost takes you down with him.

"You okay?" you giggle.

"I'm good. You good?"

"I'm good."

You sway with him for a second, closing your eyes and revelling in the warmth of his hands on the bare skin of your waist.

"You're a little tipsy, huh?"

"Just a little."

"You wanna go home?"

You chew on your lip for a moment, weighing up your options.

"Can we go to your place? I don't wanna face my parents like this."

Steve leans in to press a kiss to your forehead, brushing the hair back from your face.

"Of course. Let's go, hm?"

"Let me grab my jacket. I'll meet you by the door."

You slink off upstairs, leaving Steve alone with Eddie.

"Just friends," Eddie mocks under his breath quietly.

"What?"

"Nothin'."

Steve stares at his friend with a brow quirked, stormy look on his face.

"All I'm sayin' is - I don't look at my best friend like that. Don't hold 'em like you just did. Don't have sleepovers either."

"I've known her since we were kids. It's different."

"I've got friends I've known since kindergarten. I don't kiss them on the forehead."

"I wouldn't put it past you," Steve mumbles, finished with the conversation. "Whatever, man. You don't get it."

"Oh, I get it. You're in love. Steve and Cherry, sitting in a tree-"

"Don't call her that."

"See? You're defensive over her nickname, because you gave it to her. Don't be an idiot, Steve. Life's too short."

"Yours will be, if you don't shut up."

Eddie takes that as his cue, shaking his head as he leaves to go and complain about the music choice.

Steve meets you outside, chuckling when he sees you shivering as you hold your jacket.

"Cherry, put your coat on. You're freezing."

You look up at him, slightly bewildered, and he fights to keep the smile off his face. Taking it from your hands, Steve slips the jacket around your shoulders, hands skimming up your arms to warm you.

"Better?"

"Better."

You slip your hand into his and begin to walk away from the noise, finally taking a deep breath when you're down the street.

"You okay?"

"Yeah," you reply, nudging him with your shoulder. "Feet hurt though. Fuckin' shoes."

You both stop, Steve kneeling down in front of you to unbuckle your heels. You look at him questioningly and he winks, cheeky and full of love.

He slips them off your feet and sits down on the curb, taking his sneakers off and gesturing for you to step into them.

"No, Steve. I chose to wear these, it's my own fault."

"I know, and they looked cute. But now you're going to wear these."

You step into the shoes reluctantly, holding back tears when he kneels and ties your laces tightly. Rising to his feet, he presses a kiss to your forehead before intertwining your fingers again, picking up your heels with his other hand.

You're both quiet, as you walk. Neither of you needs to say anything. It's always been this way. Steve's not good with silence usually, but with you, it's more than comfortable. Sometimes, you'll sit for hours in his bedroom doing your own things, content to just know the other person is there.

"Minnie Lawson kept asking about you tonight."

You try to keep the disdain from your voice as best you can, praying Steve doesn't pick up on it.

He does. He doesn't mention it.

"Oh yeah?"

"Yeah."

You keep walking, smiling occasionally when you catch sight of Steve's socked feet next to yours.

"What did she say?"

You mentally kick yourself for bringing it up, but take a deep breath and tell him anyway.

"Kept asking if you were single."

"And what did you say?"

"Told her she needed to ask you herself and that I'm not your secretary."

Steve cackles at this, loud and endearing. The sound makes you grin, whether you want to or not.

"Shit, Cherry baby. What did the girl ever do to you?"

"I didn't mind when she asked the first couple times, but the more she drank, the more she forgot. She couldn't remember if she'd already asked so kept asking again."

He laughs again, squeezing your hand where it still holds his tightly.

"She didn't talk to me."

"Didn't think she would."

He looks at you for a moment too long, your eyes meeting the floor to avoid his gaze.

"Mikey was asking about you tonight, you know."

You'd had a crush on Mikey in ninth grade, the summer after he'd gotten tall and started to look less like four walking limbs and more like a man. He was a nice guy, if not a little boisterous sometimes.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. Said you looked pretty. Wanted to know if you were still with the Douchebag."

You chuckle at the hatred in Steve's voice at the mention of your ex boyfriend.

"And you said..."

"That he was in the wind, thankfully."

"Dodged a bullet with that one."

You lean into his arm, savouring the warmth of his skin you can feel through your jacket and his long sleeve shirt.

"Mikey wants to ask you out."

"Really?"

"Yeah, really. Is that so hard to believe? You're a catch, you know."

"I don't know. Boys like Mikey never look at me, usually."

"I look at you."

Your breath hitches in your chest. It's like your heart has forgotten how to beat.

"Yeah," you whisper. "But you're Steve."

After a moment, you add,

"My Steve."

You rest your head onto his bicep, still clutching his hand. He leans down to press a kiss into your hair, resting his cheek there for a moment.

"You're worlds apart from boys like Mikey, Steve. He's nice, but he's not you."

You're not sure where all this sudden truth is coming from, but you're wondering if the cherry vodka has maybe hit you a little harder than you first thought.

"And you and Minnie Lawson aren't even in the same league. You've got nothing to worry about."

You both process Steve's words, before he starts stuttering.

"I mean, not that you, not that - it's not like you were worried, I'm sure. I bet you weren't. I just mean... you know what I mean, right?

Thankfully, you do.

"I know what you mean. I always do."

He stops walking, turning to face you on the sidewalk, hand never dropping yours. You're not sure where you are, but you know Steve knows. He'll keep you safe. Always.

"Okay," he breathes.

"Okay," you breathe.

"I love you," he breathes.

"I love you," you breathe.

"I don't want you to date Mikey Carter," he breathes.

"I don't want you to date Minnie Lawson," you breathe.

You both inhale deeply, following the other person's lead.

"I can't stop thinking about the other night," Steve whispers, so quietly you'd have missed if it you weren't so in tune with him.

Your lungs constrict for a second, all the air leaving you at once.

"Me neither."

You're stood in the street whispering to each other, frightened you'll burst the bubble you've accidentally created.

"I feel bad," you confess.

"Why, honey?"

"Because I... I didn't return the favour. I just let you get into bed and fall asleep. Sorry."

Steve's hands come up to cradle your face, eyes searching yours as if he's reading his favourite book.

"I didn't want you to. I told you, it wasn't about me, it was about you. I didn't... I didn't initiate it so I could get something in return."

"Sorry."

"Stop apologising, Cherry. You've got nothing to apologise for."

"Sorry," you reply without thinking, causing both of you to double over into fits of laughter.

Steve wipes the happy tears from your cheeks, gaze never leaving yours. You look at each other for a moment, feeling the atmosphere shift. The world could collapse around you both, and neither of you would notice. It's just you and Steve. Nothing more, nothing less.

He leans in gently, pressing his lips to yours in a featherlight kiss. He tastes like beer and spearmint.

"You're wearing your lipbalm."

"You've been chewing your gum."

He chuckles, kissing you again softly.

"You wanna go home?"

"Please. You're in your socks, and I look like a clown."

He looks at your feet and laughs, the sound much too loud for the early hours of a Sunday morning.

"Let's go, Cherry baby. My warm bed awaits us."

The stars guide you home hand in hand, Steve stealing the occasional kiss when you happen to be looking in his direction. You kick off his shoes by the door, running straight up the stairs to change out of your uncomfortable dress. Steve stops by the kitchen to grab you both a glass of water, bounding up after you and spilling half the liquid in the process.

He stops in the doorway when he reaches his room, breath caught in his throat. You're stood in just your panties, bare back to him, rifling through his drawers to find the soft grey shirt you always steal.

It's a sight he's seen before. Something is different this time.

"Where is it?" you ask, not turning around.

You know he's there. You know he knows what you're looking for.

This is what love is, he thinks suddenly. The knowing. The unknowing. The knowing that the other person knows. The other person knowing that you know. Unspoken knowledge.

"Bottom drawer, left," he chokes out. "Washed it."

You slip it on and turn around, pouting. The boy quirks a brow at you in question.

"Doesn't smell like you. Smells like your detergent, but not you. Will you wear it, when I leave?"

"Yeah," he chuckles, fighting the blush from rising across his chest. "Anything you want, baby."

Steve shrugs off his clothes, slipping on a fresh pair of boxers before sliding into his side of the bed. You're in the bathroom, humming a tune that he can't quite place but knows he heard tonight. He watches you through the open door as you sway gently, ready to jump up and catch you if need be. You pee with the door still open, and Steve chuckles. It's like you've been married for twenty years.

"Can you please turn the fan on? I'm hot."

"Anything for you, Cherry Pie."

You jump into your side of the bed, sitting up to face the boy next to you. It might be 3am, but you're both wide awake, veins buzzing with endless possibility.

"I've been thinking," you murmur quietly.

"Never a good sign."

"Shut up."

You both laugh, and you can't help but grin. What a miracle, you think. To be alive at the same time as a boy like Steve Harrington. To know him. To love him.

"Will you let me return the favour?"

It's a vague question, but Steve knows exactly what you're asking. He chokes on his breath, tilting his head to look at you.

"Babe, you don't have to-"

"-I want to. So badly."

Steve inhales deeply, willing himself to calm down.

"I don't have to, if you don't want me to. But I can't stop thinking about the way you'd taste."

The boy thinks he's died and gone to heaven. Dreaming, maybe.

"Honey... fuck."

Steve nods, bottom lip caught between his teeth.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. Please. Jesus."

He's breathing so frantically, you're worried he might pass out. The last thing you need is your best friend unconscious.

"Breathe, Stevie. It's just me and you."

"Me and you."

"Always."

He comes back down to Earth, so you lean in to kiss him, all tender and cherry flavoured. Tangling your fingers into his hair, you push him backwards so he's leaning against the headboard. You straddle his hips, plush lips pressing into his neck, his chest, his collarbones. Steve's practically melting, a puddle of love and affection beneath you.

"Let me take care of you," you whisper into his ear, and who is he to deny you when you ask so sweet?

You crawl down his body until you're situated between his legs, thick thighs bracketing you in. You kiss along the inside of the muscle, nipping as you go and revelling in the way he jumps and hisses. It's nice to be the one in charge for once.

You scratch your nails along the bulge in his boxers, smirking when his hips buck up into you. You think, for a moment, that you'd happily lie here and tease him like this for hours, just to see when he'd snap. But this isn't the time for games, so you store that thought for another day.

"This still okay?"

"More than okay," he replies, all breathy and ungrounded. You link your fingers with his and squeeze, and all his nerves melt away.

You don't let yourself begin to think about why he's nervous. You know Steve's a ladies man, you know he's done this many times... so why is it different with you? You wonder if maybe you should talk about it afterwards. You're not sure if either of you are ready for that.

Mouthing at him over his underwear, you hum in contentment at his warmth. He's always run hot, every part of him. It's one of your favourite things.

You hook your fingers into the waistband of his boxers and tug them down, throwing them onto the floor somewhere. The room is dimly lit by the lamp on the nightstand, the lightbulb casting shadows across Steve's slightly sweat damp skin. The fan acts as a soundtrack, white noise breaking up the silence.

You look at him and bite your lip, buzzing with anticipation. It's not like you haven't seen each other naked before, but it's different like this.

"Just... tell me what you like or what you don't like as I go along, okay?"

Steve smiles in adoration, running his thumb over your cheekbone gently.

"Okay."

You wrap your hand around him and curl your wrist, holding back a smirk when the boy whines. It's a pretty sound. You'd like to hear it again and again until he loses his voice.

Leaning in, you lick up the length of him, groaning at the salty musk. His taste, his scent, his sounds... it's all so Steve. He's the centre of your universe, everything around you just Steve Steve Steve.

Taking him fully into your mouth, a hand flies into your hair, tangling his fingers. He doesn't move you, just tethers himself to something real, something grounding. You take him as much as you can, working up a rhythm between your tongue and your hand. Steve's breathing as if he's just ran a marathon, chest heaving and lungs burning.

He finds his voice, suddenly.

"Oh fuck, baby."

"Shit, Cherry. Fuck, just like that."

"That's it, atta girl. Perfect girl. My girl."

"Oh, you're so good. So fucking good."

He tenses, fingers tightening in your hair once again.

"So close, baby. Don't stop. Please."

You double down on your efforts, twisting your wrist in that way you've figured out he likes as you hollow your cheeks and suck. The boy sees stars, vision going white.

The noise he lets out as he finishes will be forever engrained in your mind, a never ending symphony that no orchestra could ever recreate.

He goes lax, collapsing back against the bed as you swallow, never breaking eye contact. You stick your tongue out as proof and he groans, deep and gutteral.

"Kiss me," he chokes, too blissed out to move.

You crawl up his body and press your lips to his, squeaking in surprise when he slips his tongue into your mouth to taste himself.

"Filthy," you laugh, resting your forehead against his.

"You love it."

You shake your head, but can't wipe the grin from your face.

"I love you."

"I love you more."

After a second, you giggle.

"What's funny?"

"I'd like to see Minnie Lawson do that."

Steve laughs, loud and melodic in the low light of the room.

"She's got nothing on you, Cherry baby. No one does."

You process the words, heart stuttering in your chest.

"We should talk about this," you whisper.

"We will," he assures, tugging you into him so your head is resting on his chest. "Tomorrow."

Lines have been crossed, lives have been changed, but the stars above your heads remain the same. They'll always guide you back to Steve.

The lamp flickers, the fan hums, the crickets sing their night time lullabies.

The boy leans down to press his lips to yours. He tastes like cherries and every kiss for the rest of your life.

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