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#old steve
icalledhimpietro · 1 year
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Me busting into every Avenger's house demanding to know what their excuse is for not being there for Wanda
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Then proceeding to slam open the doors of a nursing home and catch that star spangled son of bitch's eye
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Steve's old ass just eating his jello:
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queen-taurean · 3 months
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If I could travel through time I think I’d would
Tell myself from the past…you’ll be fine
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faeriecap · 1 year
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I had dinner with an irl friend and we were talking about the MCU and how Steve's ending made no sense and he was bringing up old cap because I was like “he literally didn't look old like he was established as immortal he shouldn't have aged that much!” and he said "that's why it looked like chris evans in bad old age makeup and not aged Steve." and then we were DyING because like what if it wasn't actually age and instead steve just showed up in costume makeup to punk his friends and then faked his death so sam would take the shield. listen…… I CRIED
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cherriontop · 2 years
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Don't Leave Me Here (Without You)
Chapters: 1/?
Fandom: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Steve Rogers
Characters: James "Bucky" Barnes, Steve Rogers, Sam Wilson (Marvel), Bruce Banner, Winter Soldier, Old Man Steve - Character
Additional Tags: post Endgame, Canon Divergent, Old Man Steve, Time Travel, Infinity Stones, Hurt Bucky, emotionally hurt bucky, kidnapped steve, Alternate Universes, HYDRA Steve, Winter Soldier Bucky, old steve is an asshole, Hydra Peggy, winter soldier cruelty, hydra cruelty, old steve is really bad in this universe, sam and bucky being bros, eventual Steve/Bucky, Slow Burn, idiots who can't admit their feelings, Mentions of Wakanda, Attempted Murder, tags to be updated
Summary:
After returning the infinity stones back to their original places, Steve comes back an old man and promptly cuts contact with all his friends, dropping off the face of the earth. Suspicious, Bucky and Sam team up to discover what truly happened to Steve when he went back into the past. But the more they uncover, the more questions that arise, and the more danger they find themselves in, until finding the truth seems impossible. How can you find someone who doesn't want to be found?
They catch a lucky break as they decide to travel back and meet with Steve, jumping back just in time to witness him be kidnapped by none other than the Winter Soldier, only he isn't from their timeline. In fact, neither is the Steve who returned to the future with a sinister plan that endangers them all. Now Sam and Bucky not only must rescue their Steve from the clutches of Hydra, but also stop the new Steve from reigning terror over their timeline.
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rejectcroissant · 2 years
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Still going on with the old ones
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wingedcorgi · 6 months
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mfw i decide to remake a comic from 8 years ago
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lazylittledragon · 3 months
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missed them <33
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brutaliakhoa · 8 months
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when ppl say middle aged please refer to ppl at least 50 years old. if that guy is barely in their 30s I’m gonna tear you asunder
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scoobit9 · 4 months
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grimmfitzz · 4 months
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I don't have the energy to write this out but it cracked me up so greentext it is
> Eddie comes over for a party kickback and of course Steve cooks
> Eddie doesn't believe Steve made the food despite multiple reassurances from Dustin that he literally watched Steve make it with his own two eyeballs.
> "no, no see I remember good food and this tastes exactly like the stuff Mrs. Cooper brought over when Wayne had his little slip on the ice last year."
> Steve leans forward in interest. "Mrs. Cooper you say? And she said it was her recipe? Blue Pyrex? Nine by nine pan?"
> Eddie leans away from Steve's oddly interested look. "Er. Yeah? Said it was her Nana's award winning recipe. Had this beautiful story about how she came to America and learned english by copying old family recipes. It was really sweet actually."
> without further ado, Steve stands up from the table and leaves the room.
> everyone is deeply interested because Steve only gets that Look when he's about to be A Bitch (tm)
> complete silence across the table until Steve can suddenly be overhead from the kitchen
> "It's not about the pasta, Brenda it's the principle of the matter! No! No, i'll tell you what it's about! Its about passing of something as yours when it isnt. Sei un ladra! Sei fortunato che mia nonna non sia qui per vedere questo. See if I ever cook you a lasagna again you old bitch."
> Steve calmly returns to the table. "Don't bother returning the Pyrex."
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lazer-meme · 6 months
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love love love steddie + supportive wanye
thinking about wayne and eddie going on an annual fishing trip (like thee Munson Men Annual Fishing Trip™️) just like a little weekend away. and the first one is coming up after eddie and steve starts dating. over breakfast eddie jokingly complains about having to go and tries to get out of it. but wayne is used to his dramatics so he just gives hmms when appropriate because eddie’s whole spiel never got him out of it before and he tells eddie that.
steve watches the whole exchange with amusement when wayne asks if he’s looking forward to it. and he’s like ??? because he assumed it was just a wayne and eddie thing. and wayne is like i just told eddie all munsons must go can’t get out of it kid.
steve gets flustered and is internally is like oh??? all munsons,,,
or like after the trip a neighbor asks wayne if they caught anything and he pulls out his wallet to show a picture they took on the trip. wayne passes it with ‘here’s a picture of my boys’ and to steve’s surprise it’s a picture of both him and eddie with their biggest catch.
and just idk wayne casually accepting steve into their family and throwing steve off guard with it.
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icalledhimpietro · 1 year
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Not so fun fact
Steve went back to a time when Bucky was still on track to be the Winter Soldier
Steve still had the super soldier serum and absolutely could have saved him
But he didn't
I do believe Steve deserved a happy ending to his story, but if I had the opportunity to save my best friend from being tortured, brainwashed, and made into a terrorist
I certainly wouldn't be wasting my time with an old flame I kissed one time. (I know their relationship is different in the comics but Im going off of the story the mcu presented us with) I can't have a truly happy ending until I know my best friend is happy too. And it's SO incredibly out of character for Steve in so many ways.
They had the opportunity to preface Steve's ending with a conversation with Bucky where a lot of things could have been explained but no. We are supposed to "assume" that conversation happened which is not only bad storytelling, but incredibly lazy and sloppy writing.
Steve did not act like a friend to Bucky in the end, he just left and didn't really do anything for him. That's what pisses me off about his ending. Make whatever excuse you want, friends who truly are friends communicate about that kinda stuff and the film's unwillingness to show that communication tells me they didn't care at all about these characters. Then for someone to go back in time enough to stop their friend from being tortured, brainwashed, and commit violent and unspeakable acts? Yeah no. Steve Rogers cared so much about not only true justice but Bucky Barnes himself, he never would have been content knowing his friend was going through a literal hell while he got to play house with Peggy (or whoever he married)
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maroon-cardigan · 4 months
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THE LUCKY ONES | steve harrington x fem!reader
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summary: every december you try to forget what happened in christmas 1976, when your parents didn’t show up to pick you up from boarding school and you had to spend the holidays at the harrington’s. steve and you were too young back then to understand the curse that ran through your veins, but eight years later, temptation knocks on your door, and you find yourself fucking the one guy you would’ve never fucked.
oldmoney!steve x oldmoney!reader | enemies with benefits | no use of y/n | no mentions of specific race, hair type of body type.
word count: 23.5k
warnings: this one shot and my blog are +18, minors do not interact. NSFW. christmas angsty smut, basically. mentions of alcoholism & miscarriage, reader and steve got family issues but there’s no violence. hate fucking, kinda mean!steve but also mean!reader (i love a balanced dynamic). public sex. fingering, finger licking, unprotected p in v, oral (f receiving). use of good girl, spoiled brat, etc. but no degradation.
author’s note: hello ♡ this one shot is my favourite thing i’ve written for this blog so far, and I’m so proud of it !!! this is shamelessly inspired on gossip girl & sooo lana del rey coded. please forgive my basic understanding of american geography. this is a repost, because i had some problems with the tags, so i tagged everyone who interacted with the first post at the end.
masterlist
[dividers by @benkeibear & @cafekitsune]
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THE LUCKY ONES ♡
People did this kind of thing when they were drunk. Or high. Or worse, people did this kind of thing when they were needy. Not you, though. Never you.
That’s what you thought after the first time you had sex with Steve, wondering what had taken you to fuck the one guy you’d never fuck. Because you couldn’t stand Steve Harrington, and he couldn’t stand you. Yet it seemed like that mutual aversion was what kept you two orbiting around each other after all these years, until the inevitable collision happened.
There was a time where things were different, though. When you were a kid, you almost became Steve Harrington’s friend. You would even dare to say, he was your friend once, the year you had the loneliest Christmas of your life.
DECEMBER 1976.
You had been looking at your shoes for the last couple of hours. Shiny little loafers that your mom got you on your last trip to New York. The Sales Assistant that helped you had smiled at you as you put them on.
‘Every girl, no matter how young or old, deserves some Prada.’ She said.
You smiled back while standing up on your little feet. You walked a straight line, feeling the eyes of your mother on you before you looked back and made an exaggerated pose, making her laugh.
‘I’ll take those as well.’ She said to the girl behind the counter.
On the way out she let you carry the bag with the shoebox inside. She lent you her sunglasses, shiny and black sitting on the top of your little head between your pigtails. In the taxi, you fell asleep on top of her fluffy red coat that smelled like her. It was a good trip.
That’s how you knew something was wrong. Your parents would never forget you at school, specially not on Christmas Eve. The housemistress had helped you pack the day before knowing that your mom would pick you up in the morning. But it was almost noon, and you were still at the dinner hall, sitting all alone waiting for her.
You looked up at the lovely lights of the chandelier above you, short legs hanging from the bench you were sitting on and sight blurry as you convinced yourself that they had abandoned you, and now you’d be spending Christmas with the kids whose parents were too busy working to care about them. That wasn’t you. That had never been you.
The clicking of a pair of heels caught your attention then. A tall, lovely woman of feathered hair wearing a red suit smiled at you. She was beautiful. She was kind. She made you feel safe.
‘Hello, Mrs. Harrington.’ You said standing up. You weren’t going to cry in front of your parents’ friend, that would’ve been impolite.
‘There you are, sweet thing.’ She said opening her arms when she stood in front of you. You took a few hesitant steps towards her before she embraced you in a hug. Blinking many times and impressed at her warmth, you inhaled her sweet perfume.
Only then you saw him next to her. A little polo under a sweater, hands in his pockets, black hair almost reaching his shoulders. You couldn’t help but blush.
‘Your parents asked me to come pick you up.’ She said breaking the hug. Her warm eyes looked back at you as she stood, leaning to be at the same eye level as you. Her fingers brushed your bangs, removing the hair off your face. ‘You’re spending Christmas with us.’
You knew something was wrong, but you thought it wouldn’t be polite to ask Mrs. Harrington what it was. You walked in your little loafers looking around the Harrington’s house, observing the green and red decorations.
The mansion filled you with a strange sense of sadness, the living room you stood in too similar to the one you wished you were in. You missed home, the voices of the staff saying hello miss whenever you walked in, everyone ready to hug you. There was nothing like that here.
‘I don’t have any dolls.’ You heard him say behind you. You turned around to find Steve with a basket full of toys. ‘But I’ve got dinosaurs.’
You looked at the basket before looking back at him, and he almost got scared at the line that adorned your lips. Steve thought sometimes being with you was like being with the adults. He had hoped that the toys might change your mood.
‘I like dinosaurs.’ You said quietly, sitting on the rug as he imitated you.
‘…Haven’t really spoken to her since then.’ You heard someone murmur.
Steve was making explosion noises next to you, two toys on each hand as he played, and you tried to hear what Mrs. Harrington was saying. From where you were, you could only see her heels, legs crossed as the back of the armchair she was sitting on faced you, and the telephone cord being wrapped and unwrapped by her manicured hand.
‘No. Of course not. She deserves a lovely Christmas.’ She said. ‘Only ten years old, can you imagine? She’s just a baby.’
You frowned at the words of Steve’s mother; certain that she was talking about you.
‘Are you ok–’ You put a hand on his mouth, placing your index finger over yours. Steve simply nodded, the contact of your hand on his skin making his cheeks hot.
Mrs. Harrington sighed.
‘I don’t know. I think he made the decision. And good for him, but he didn’t tell her anything. He just left her a note saying he was leaving her to go to rehab. She’s dealing with the press now.’
You stood up then, walking to the other side of the armchair to face her. Mrs. Harrington jumped at the sight of your little frame; eyes too young to be hiding such darkness behind them.
‘Oh, sweetie!’ She said. ‘K-Karen, I’ll call you later, okay? Or I’ll see you tomorrow either way. Y-Yes. Yes, see you later.’
She hung the phone and gave you a reassuring smile, but you could see the way her shoulders moved up and down as she breathed, nervous by the sudden interruption.
‘Are my parents getting a divorce?’ You said.
She had to blink a couple of times before standing up, swallowing hard and rubbing her hands against her lap as she stood in front of you.
‘Stevie.’ She put her hands on your shoulders to walk you back to where Steve was playing. Her skin was freezing. ‘Can you prepare a bath for our little guest? Just how I taught you, please. I’m sure she’s had a long day, haven’t you, sweetie?’
You looked up at her behind you. Calm smile, beautiful face and sweet perfume. You couldn’t help but notice what a tense woman Mrs. Harrington was.
You were leaning against the frame of the bathroom’s door as Steve emptied a bottle of a pink liquid in the bathtub.
‘This is my favorite one.’ He said. ‘It’s got stars in it.’
That interested you, lifting your head subtly to look at the shiny bubbles growing at the bottom of the tub, little glittery stars mixing with the water.
‘That’s cool.’
Steve’s eyes lit up at your comment, smiling at you. You had forgotten how cute he was, looking at the way he had to roll the bottom of his jeans because they were too big for him.
You closed the lid of the toilet to sit on top of it, looking at the way the iridescent bubbles started to rise, and the water turned pink. You could feel his eyes on you as you placed your chin on your hands, just like you would if a teacher asked you a question you didn’t know the answer for. You were thinking about your mom, wanting to hear her voice and wondering if Mrs. Harrington would let you call her.
Steve remembered something then. He walked out of the toilet, leaving you alone with your thoughts for a few minutes while the sound of the water running filled the silence.
‘I got you these.’
He walked inside the toilet again, a pink towel on one hand and a teddy bear on the other. You smiled, realising how bad you missed your own toys back at home, wondering if they’d miss you too.
You grabbed the teddy bear first, a patchwork pink thing you hugged hard against your ribs. Steve observed you, leaving the towel on the little step next to the bathtub, black strands of hair falling on his forehead. You thought he looked like one of those boys on the covers of your mom’s music records.
‘Why do you have girl stuff?’ You asked then.
Steve shrugged. ‘It was for my sisters. Mom says she lost them, but I’m not really sure how you can lose a kid.’ There was a silence between you two as you both frowned. ‘No one uses them.’
‘Maybe my parents lost me and that’s why I’m here. With you.’ You said.
‘Maybe.’
When the water almost reached the top of the bathtub and the pink bubbles were like a giant mountain of foam, Steve closed the tap. You waited until you heard the noise of his steps walking down the stairs to lock the door, take your clothes off and get inside.
You hugged your knees inside the pink pool of bubbles, pulse slowing down and muscles relaxing. And for the first time in that strange day, you felt really safe. Cared for. Important.
You walked out wearing your pink pyjamas, it wasn’t until you put them on that you remembered that tomorrow was Christmas day. The hallway was silent in a scary way, long and big in a house you didn’t know very well.
‘Steve?’ You whispered. But there was no answer. No sound.
Except for one subtle thing.
The room was dark when you stood outside of it. The texture of the carpet warm under your bare feet as you pushed the door slightly.
She was on the other side.
Mrs. Harrington still looked beautiful with her mascara running down her cheeks, and her eyes lost on the flames of the fireplace. She took the bottle to her lips, eyes closed, and shoulders relaxed as she swallowed. You knew what the liquid in it smelled like, because you had smelled it on your dad’s breath too many times before.
You didn’t remember who took you to bed, but you slept next to Steve that night. What you did remember were his rocket pyjamas, and the way he moved next to you all night because he was too excited about the presents under the tree.
You remembered how he said your name when he woke you up the next day and the excitement on your chest as he did, heart beating fast against your ribs. He didn’t have any siblings, neither did you. This was the closest thing to it that you both had ever experienced.
You remembered how every present you had asked Santa for was under the tree. And you remembered Mrs. Harrington’s eyes on you as you opened them while her husband sat next to her. Mascara in place and feathered hair framing her beautiful face. She was smiling.
A car came to pick you up on the day after Christmas. Steve would never forget the relief in your face when his mom announced you were going home from the living room, and the disappointment he felt. He didn’t forget your little hand waving at him from the backseat of the black vehicle as the snow fell outside the house. Or your pretty smile as you wore the outfit his mom had picked for you that morning. He would never forget the way her eyes lit up as she brushed your hair in front of her vanity mirror while he sat down on his parents’ bed. She looked happy.
You had made their Christmas better. And Steve knew then what he had to do to keep his mom as happy as she was when you were here.
He had to ask for a sister.
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You could’ve been friends after that, right? Maybe. Or maybe not.
You were taken back to an empty house. In the next weeks you spent all day surrounded by the staff that took care of the house. By the time you understood what was happening you had to pack your things and go back to school.
Your dad had gone to rehab while your mother had to handle it all by herself: the press trying to destroy him, and the multi-millionaire business generations of your family had worked on. The investors. Your grandmother blaming it all on her. She did it all looking as glamourous as always, and you didn’t know this by the letters she sent you, but by the pictures of her you saw on the newspapers and magazines while she travelled, and you stayed at school. Alone. All of that just so she would divorce him right after he went out.
You grew up in a public mess. But you weren’t the only one. Stevie turned into Steve, a boy who ignored you on the first week of January 1977. He came back with an arrogant frown on his face and a loneliness in his eyes that you had only seen on grownups.
Sometimes you spotted him in between the mess of uniforms in the campus, but you were growing up now, and girls like you didn’t beg anyone to be friends with them. So, you forgot him. And in your absence Steve turned into King Steve, son of Roger and Martha Harrington, descendant of a long line of successful and renowned corporate lawyers in the country. Known by his popularity, his wild parties and his inability to keep his dick in his pants.
So, people changed. Sometimes for the worse, like Steve. Sometimes for the better, like your dad.
That didn’t mean you were exempt from catastrophe. Sometimes people screwed up. You, more than anyone, knew that when temptation knocked on the door, you and Steve were prone to welcome it. It ran in your blood anyways.
It all started the last Friday of November.
26 DAYS UNTIL CHRISTMAS.
Parent conferences never made you nervous. Not because of your grades, but because it was more about the parents than the kids. You knew your mother would have a little chat with your teacher, go to the dinner hall to have a couple of drinks with some of your friends’ mothers and later in the evening knock on your door to ask you if you wanted to spend the weekend at hers. Easy.
That’s why you froze on the spot when you walked inside the classroom to find your dad sitting on one of the desks, talking to Robin Buckley’s mom. His eyes lit up as soon as he saw you standing with your lips opened in surprise. Something hit you on the shoulder, making you blink many times before you saw Steve Harrington’s silhouette walk past you, not even looking behind after hitting you.
You took a deep breath before making you way to the desk he sat on.
‘Dad.’ You tried to sound happy, hands playing with the sleeves of your uniform’s sweater as you stood in front of him. He smiled back at you. ‘What are you doing here?’
The way your question made his eyes drop broke your heart.
‘Your mom called me from Paris. Her flight’s delayed.’ He took a deep breath as he studied you with his eyes. ‘She doesn’t know I’m here. Told me to send her assistant.’
You bit your lip hiding your smile. ‘Carmen.’
He rolled his eyes at the sound of her name. ‘Can you fucking believe that?’
You laughed loudly, sitting next to him on the desk. Only then you realised there was a bouquet of roses on the sit behind you. ‘Are those for me?’
‘Of course, flower.’ He said smiling.
You couldn’t help but smile widely, wrapping an arm around his and placing your head on his shoulder.
It was good for both of you. You stayed quiet the whole meeting, sitting on the seat next to his as your teacher talked to him. You placed your chin on your hand when his eyebrows lifted at the sight of your grades from the first semester, trying to hide your smile.
On the way to the dinner hall, he asked you a few questions about how things were going. You hadn’t seen him in about a month, before he flew to Hong Kong for business, so there was not a lot to talk about except Thanksgiving and what books you were currently reading. You missed him a lot.
It didn’t surprise you that people observed you when you walked inside the hall. Whispers behind fizzy glasses and looks of pity while you kept chatting with your dad. Outside the borders of the elite, he was on the front of every single business magazine, but here he seemed to always be regarded as the man who abandoned his family on Christmas day. Not like that mattered when they needed favours from him, though. But you had to learn diplomacy the hard way, by getting along with everyone but friendly with almost no one.
Everyone except one person.
Steve sat quietly on a chair on the other side of the room, while his dad stood up next to him. He was scolding him, you imagined, by the way he sat with his arms crossed on his chest, nodding slightly every now and then as his father spoke. The sleeves of his uniform’s sweater were rolled up on his elbows and his brown gaze lost on the wooden floor.
Mr. Harrington’s eyes lit up as soon as your dad nodded at him, the atmosphere changing instantly at the sight of you two. You smiled too, but the gesture fell from your face when you saw the crystal glass with the brown liquid on his hand. You took a deep breath as you followed your dad, hands on your lap as you ached to squeeze his arm and ask him to leave early.
‘So good to see you here.’ Said Mr. Harrington patting your dad’s shoulder. ‘Though I’m sure there’s nothing you should worry about with this one. I’ve heard she’s doing great.’
You smiled politely, ignoring the way Steve rolled his eyes at his father’s flattery. He looked at you from where he was then, eyes lingering on the way you scratched the back of your knee sock with your shoe in nervousness, the hem of your uniform skirt lifting a little bit with the movement.
‘She is, actually. I’m very proud.’
The words made him look up at you then, your face going from tense to soft at your father’s words. Shy smile adorning your face, a subtle thing none of them noticed. He almost said something sarcastic, but his father was quicker at replying.
‘Maybe you could help Steve the next semester?’ He joked. ‘He could do with a good influence.’
You were about to answer something harmless, when Steve let out a scoff, a bitter laugh that made you look back at him. He lifted his eyebrows then, inviting you to say something, when Mr. Wheeler joined in, a glass of whiskey on his hand too, greeting your dad with a pat on his back.
Your father smiled at him, and the three of them started talking while you slowly became invisible. You walked back, flattening your skirt before sitting down next to Steve, ignoring him in silence as you witnessed the conversation in front of you, feeling the anxiety rising on your chest.
You heard words about business, finance, and stocks, but your eyes just lingered on the liquor glasses and how empty they became with the passing of minutes. You observed your dad’s attentive nods and wondered what he was thinking about, if he could smell the alcohol from where he was. He was throwing his head back while laughing, he was making jokes. He seemed happy.
That couldn’t be good.
‘You sure got that good girl act together, don’t you?’
You turned your face to Steve momentarily, distracted by the way your dad’s voice had turned louder. ‘What?’
He studied your face before looking away, licking his lips.
‘I said your daddy comes here and suddenly you’re playing the part of the perfect daughter. Good influence my ass.’  
You frowned at his words, eyeing him with disdain before looking back at your dad.
‘Well, I’m sorry I’m not like you, Harrington. Publicly fucking around with everyone. I bet your dad must be very proud of your voyeuristic tendencies.’
‘You’re one to talk, pool girl.’ He said under his breath.
You scoffed, shaking your head. Your eyes were still fixed on the conversation in front of you, the way your dad seemed to fit in perfectly in the cheerful environment, talking with his hands and laughing loudly with Mr. Harrington and Mr. Wheeler. Your stomach twisted, the discussion with Steve making you even more irritated.
‘I have no idea what Jason told you, but sucking dick is hardly a crime when you compare it to being found out in the school’s rooftop. Do you think I don’t notice the way you’re avoiding Mr. Wheeler’s eyes right now?’
‘Nancy was my girlfriend.’ He said feeling the heat rising to his cheeks. Something about the way your eyes refused to meet his made him even more annoyed, he wasn’t used to be ignored.
You were still looking at your dad when you leaned into your side, whispering the words that you knew would shut him up.
‘Yeah. Until she got bored of you.’
It all happened so fast. You saw the way the waitress approached them, holding the tray so Mr. Wheeler and Mr. Harrington would leave their empty glasses on them, a set of three refilled ones waiting for the gentlemen’s hands to grab them.
You saw it before it happened because you knew him. Because you had witnessed this same scene many times before. When your dad’s fingers brushed the glass of whiskey, you felt Steve’s irritated sigh stroking your cheek. You lifted your eyes then, meeting his brown stare full of hatred, cheeks flushed by your provoking words. And you had no other option than to lean in.
It was a silly thing, really. Lips crashing on his in front of everyone in the dinner hall for just a few seconds. You heard the gasps, the whispers, and your name falling from your dad’s mouth, making you break the kiss.
Steve’s eyes still lingered on your face though, cheeks and neck getting even hotter by the unexpected kiss, tasting your strawberry gloss and missing the feeling of your mouth against his. His eyes followed you, confused and lost as you stood up, your dad’s hand wrapping on your shoulder while you tried to hide your smile.
‘What do you think you’re doing?’ He said to you. He wasn’t mad, not really, silly giggles leaving his mouth as you let out a snorty laugh while you left the dinner hall together.
You knew that on Monday morning you’d be called into the principal’s office by your improper behavior. You knew by then your mother would be back in the country and you’d had to find an excuse to explain why you kissed Steve in front of everyone. But none of that mattered, really. Your dad was sober and amused at your mischievousness. He’d ask you to spend the weekend at his after not seeing him for a month. He’d take you to play golf and have milkshakes. He’d watch The Apartment with you for the thousandth time.
Fuck Steve.
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25 DAYS UNTIL CHRISTMAS.
Disaster knocked on the door at the Harringtons’ annual charity party. Steve saw you walking through the doors of his parents’ mansion with your hand wrapped around your dad’s arm. You were wearing a velvet red dress, and a matching bow on your hair. A little present wrapped just for him on the first day of December.
He still wondered what it all had meant, why you kissed him in the middle of one of your stupid arguments. What had been different that time. He had spent all Saturday morning wondering if he should call you, but he thought that was ridiculous. You had kissed him, and he was honest when he said he really hated that good girl act you played in front of everyone’s parents.
You didn’t notice his eyes on you as a waiter offered you a couple of glasses of champagne and you politely declined with a smile, squeezing your dad’s arm. The Hargroves greeted you two then, and you unfolded your arms from your father’s, interlacing your hands on your back.
Steve knew you didn’t drink, an implicit promise you and your dad made to each other, and he had kept even after all these years. He understood that. But everything else seemed unnecessary. The grades, the manners, the networking abilities his dad’s interns could only dream of having. It wasn’t real. Nothing about you was real.
He couldn’t help but roll his eyes as he saw you laugh at something Billy Hargrove said. You looked around the crowded room then, a few couples dancing in the middle of it to the jazz music playing in the background. Your gaze found his from where you were, eyebrows arching and eyes turning soft. Steve frowned at your reaction before he realised that what you were actually looking at was behind him.
He looked behind his shoulder to find his mom laughing loudly next to Joyce Byers, a glass of whiskey on her hand. The image filled him with a strange feeling. A knife twisting on his stomach.
‘Steve! How are you?’ The voice of your father made him turn his face back.
‘I’m doing good, sir.’ He smiled at him, avoiding addressing you directly. ‘How are you?’
You were standing a few steps behind them, eyes stealing glances at his mother whenever she laughed, biting your lip, and feeling your shoulders tense. The truth was you would always care about Mrs. Harrington. You had never told anyone what you saw that Christmas Eve in that dark room. Not your parents. None of your friends. And definitely not Steve.
‘Are you okay, honey?’ You lifted your eyes to find Mr. Harrington in front of you. Steve and your father were looking at you, expecting a response to a question you hadn’t heard.
‘I’m sorry.’ You said blinking, heat rushing to your cheeks. ‘I’m good. How are you, Mr. Harrington? I love the decorations this year.’
Steve fought the need to roll his eyes at you.
‘Thank you, dear.’ He smiled then, putting his hand on his son’s shoulder. ‘I’m good. Was hoping Steve could take you to the dancefloor so I can steal your father for a couple of minutes. I’ve got an important conversation and a new mini golf set in my studio.’
Steve held his breath. Ever since you had kissed him his dad was convincedhe had to shoot his shot. She’s a nice girl, Steve, he said. He knew you were not. He observed the way you smiled politely, arms still behind your back while you licked your lips.
‘Actually, my heels are new, and I don’t really feel like getting stepped on, but if you must steal my dad, please do so. He hasn’t won a mini golf match in a while and I’m sure he could do with the ego boost.’
Only your dad and Mr. Harrington laughed loudly at your cheekiness.
‘Your daughter would be a good lawyer, you know that?’ Said Steve’s dad as he put a hand on your dad’s shoulder and guided him on the direction of his studio.
You bit the inner skin of your cheek. It hadn’t been that funny, but you were bored and wouldn’t miss an opportunity to provoke Steve. Your eyes followed the silhouettes of the two men for a few seconds, wondering if your dad would be tempted tonight like he was on Friday.
‘I can’t believe you.’
His voice made you look back at him. You eyed him in his black suit, hair on its place for once, his cedarwood perfume invading your lungs even if you didn’t want it to.
‘What?’
His eyes looked up and down at you while he put his hands on his pockets, making you feel suddenly self-conscious.
‘Nothing. It’s just fun seeing you pretend you’re not as fake as everyone in this room.’
You took a deep breath before speaking. ‘Fake how, Steve?’
He licked his lips then, taking a step towards you as he spoke. From this distance you could see the way his brown piercing eyes craved to provoke you, a single strand of hair falling in the middle of his forehead.
‘Laughing at Hargrove’s jokes knowing your daddy wants a deal to acquire thirty percent of his father’s company. Wearin’ a Karen Wheeler dress so she agrees to design the costumes of your mom’s next movie. Teasing my dad to get him to accept the business offer your dad must be talking about right now.’ He made a pause then, warm breath sending shivers through your body. ‘You think I don’t notice?’
You took your time then. He stood still when your hand found his tie, getting closer so your mouth could whisper to his ear.
‘So, you pay attention to what I do. Sounds like a fixable problem between your dick and your hand, Harrington.’
You moved to take a step back, but Steve put a firm hand on your waist, taking the hand resting on his chest in his and before you could blink, you two were swinging to the Billie Holiday song playing in the background.
‘You sure as hell know how to use that pretty mouth, don’t you?’ His voice had turned lower then. His words were full of arrogance, but his thumb brushed softly against the uncovered skin of your back.
You held your breath at his words, cedarwood scent getting stronger, skin full of goosebumps by his touch.
‘You tell me.’ You said. ‘Seems like you’ve been thinking a lot about my mouth since Friday. Are you really that easy? I don’t even remember using my tongue.’ You lowered your voice even more, lips brushing against his earlobe as you spoke. ‘And I’ve been told I’m pretty good at using it.’
Steve swallowed hard at your words, wondering if there was an implied proposition behind them. You didn’t know why you were teasing him; the kiss had just been the quickest way of keeping your dad from reaching that glass. But seeing him on this suit and letting him hold you against his body had you wondering if that had been the only reason.
Maybe it was the way he pushed you closer to his body, or how he sighed deeply against your skin while your eyes fixed on Mrs. Harrington over his shoulder, grabbing another glass from a tray and dropping the empty one she had on her hand. Maybe it was the fact you were still fond of her, or maybe for some strange reason, you wanted to save Steve from the embarrassment of seeing his mother like this.
So, before the glass could reach the floor, you started walking out of the room. Fingers subtly brushing his, so he’d get the hint to follow you. He heard the sound of glass shattering behind him, some exclamations, a familiar voice saying sorrysorrysorry. But none of that mattered.
As soon as you walked into the hallway, his hand wrapped around your arm, pushing you against the wooden wall next to the door, dim lights illuminating your profile. Steve’s brown eyes stayed on yours as his hand found your chin, silence filling the tense air between you two. He had pushed you so unexpectedly that one of the strips of your dress had fallen off your shoulder. His gaze followed the line of your collarbones before looking back at you, thumb pushing lightly so your mouth would open for him.
He made you breath him in first, noses brushing and lips ghosting as he pushed his body against yours. You couldn’t help but arch your eyebrows at the feeling of his hardened dick against your thigh, the realisation falling on your innocent eyes, a soft gasp leaving your lips. It killed him.
He leaned in then. Lips full of hatred but tongue aching to taste you as his thumb opened that sweet mouth of yours. His hand fell on your chest then, stroking your breast over the velvety fabric before making its way down to your leg. He briefly wondered why you smiled under his lips, until his hand found the lace of your black stockings and garter belt under your dress.
‘Fuck.’ He whispered desperately, the adrenaline of potentially getting caught running through his veins. ‘Let me see you, I wanna see you.’
His forehead rested against your temple as he looked down while his hand lifted the skirt of your dress, taking in the beautiful view of your boobs pushed up and the little black thong you were wearing that night. ‘Shit. Look at you, all dressed up to be fucked.’
You rolled your eyes, tilting your head subtly enough so your noses were brushing. ‘You don’t have to be so obscene about it, Harrington.’
His breathy laugh stroked your lips as his fingers wandered under your skirt.
‘I’ll tell you what’s obscene, princess.’ You couldn’t help but lift your chin when his thick fingers ventured under the lace of your underwear, three fingers stroking your soaked folds. ‘How fuckin’ wet this pretty pussy is for me. Now that is obscene.’
You could only close your eyes and let out a deep breath when he started fingering you, the reasons why you were here on the first place long forgotten. You let out a soft moan as the sounds of his fingers going in and out of you filled the hallway.
‘D’you hear that? Huh?’ His lips sucked the skin of the curve of your neck. ‘Bet you can get even wetter for me, can’t you?’
‘Steve.’ Your intention was to sound irritated at how cocky he was being, but it came out as a sweet moan, his fingers had found that spot inside your walls and you couldn’t help but tighten them in response.
‘Hmm, yes you can. I can feel it. Soakin’ wet on my hand.’ He was leaving kisses on your collarbones now, moving to the other side of your head so he could whisper to your ear. ‘I should leave you like this. A soakin’ mess, walkin’ ‘round my house with your pussy wet. Spoiled little brat. Shouldn’t even make you cum.’
You opened your eyes at his words, taking a manicured hand to his jaw so he could face you. You started moving your hips slowly as he kept fingering you, heavy eyelids over needy brown eyes looking back at you.
‘Fuck you, Harrington.’ The hand on his jaw moved to the back of his neck pushing his face towards you. ‘We both know you wanna make me cum so badly.’
He looked at you for a few seconds as his nose pushed against your cheek and his opened mouth sighed over yours. His digits kept going in and out of your pussy as he got impossibly closer to your body.
‘Want you to ask me.’ He admitted then.
‘Not fucking happening.’
‘C’mon, you little brat.’ His voice turned deeper as his thumb started to stroke your clit, his own hardness throbbing under his pants. You bit your lip to hold the moan that begged to leave your mouth. ‘Look at you, all whiny just for me. I know you can say it.’ You shook your head repetitively then, and he moved to look at you. ‘No? Why? Not used to ask for things, are we? That’s fine. I can teach you.’
What happened next was decisive in the events that unfolded in the next few weeks.
When he took his fingers out of you, you let out a breath of relief, thinking that you had somehow preserved some of your dignity in your little slip with Steve Harrington. What you didn’t really expect was seeing him get on his knees in front of you, your hands instinctively finding the brown locks of his hair when his mouth came in contact with your sensitive cunt.
‘F-Fuck.’ It was a whispery high-pitched thing, leaving your mouth as you pushed your back against the wall and his hands firmly squeezed your thighs to keep you obscenely open for him.
His flat tongue rubbed against your clit, and this time it was you who had to lift your dress to have a better look at the sight in front of you. Dark eyes and mouth hungrily eating you out while you looked down with your pretty pure stare and your eyebrows arched, innocent agony on your face.
‘That’s it.’ He whispered against your pussy when you started grinding against his tongue, hands gripping at his hair, words choked by his lips on yours. ‘That’s it.’
‘Steve.’ You whispered, knowing that you were losing. The other strip of your dress had fallen on your shoulder too, the subtle shade of your nipple peeking through the top of your dress, goosebumps all over your chest by how turned on you were.
‘Hmm?’ He kept licking you, sloppily and loudly.
Steve inserted two fingers inside you before start kissing up your pelvis and stomach, while your fingers still played with his hair.
‘Are you ready to be fucked?’ He said in between pecks to your skin. ‘Huh? Ready to ask for it?’
You licked your lips, hesitating. Your silence made him look up at you, and you subtly nodded. He didn’t stand up just yet, taking his time to pull your dress and underwear down your body, releasing your braless chest for him. You should’ve felt exposed as he helped you step out of the velvet piece of clothing, naked in a hallway where anyone could’ve seen you two. But the sight of Steve kneeling in front of you made you feel something worse than vulnerability; it made you feel powerful.
‘What do you want, huh?’ He buried his head in you once again, leaving a wet kiss on your pussy. ‘Tell me.’
‘Steve.’
‘Don’t you get fucking bratty on me, now.’ He said licking the space in between your leg and your lip. ‘Look how wet you are. You want to be fucked so badly it’s fucking embarrassing.’
You let out a breathy laugh then, looking down at him. His chin was over your belly button now, as your fingers played with his hair, taking it off his face before they traced a line from his cheekbone to his lips, shiny with your wetness. He softly pressed a kiss on them, a subtle thing that made the cheekiness on his eyes die down and your smile turn into a line.
What the fuck were you doing?
A distant noise made you lift your head, arms instinctively crossing over your body and your cheeks turning hot with anticipated embarrassment. Steve took your dress quickly, before taking your hand and leading you into the nearest room, closing the door behind him.
‘Stev–’ He didn’t let you finish, lips back on yours and hands undoing his belt with desperation as he led you to the bed. He was tired of begging you.
‘Lay down.’ He said unbuttoning his shirt. You did as he said, looking at the thin gold chain that hung from his now uncovered chest. Somehow the adrenaline from it all was making you dumb. ‘Uh-uh. On your front.’
You blinked many times at the way he felt so entitled to command you, not sure if you were going to give him the pleasure to. He removed his boxers then, but you refused to look at his dick. You refused to acknowledge how badly you wanted him to fuck you.
‘I don’t–’
‘Can you just fucking do as you’re told?’
His hands found your hips, effortlessly moving them you so you’d be laying on your front. One of his hands made his way to your pelvis between the bed and your skin, reaching your now swollen clit while you felt his hardness against your thigh. He started drawing circles on your bud then, his forehead resting against your neck as you gasped at the sudden stimulus.
‘See?’ He murmured, ‘Just wanna make you feel good. Are you gonna let me make you feel good, now?’
‘Uh-uh.’ You whispered; eyes shut at the pleasure overtaking your body. You had been teased for too long.
‘Let me see you.’
You looked back behind your shoulder, hair messy, lips swollen, and cheeks flushed. His eyes studied yours for a few seconds, the silent realisation of what you were doing falling in between you two. He positioned himself on your entrance then, both of you holding your breaths as his dick slowly stretched you out.
Steve shut his eyes and released a choked sigh, forehead resting against your temple once his dick was deeply buried inside you.
‘So fuckin’ tight.’ He whispered as he started to fuck you, hips crashing against your ass, slow but firm. ‘So fuckin’ tight for me.’
You were quiet on the way back to your dad’s, lost in your thoughts as you looked through the car’s window, uncertain darkness behind it. People did this kind of thing when they were in need of dazzling euphoria. They did this kind of thing when they craved for blissful intoxication. Not you, though. Never you. Until now.
‘Are you okay, flower?’ He asked, making you lose your train of thought.
‘Yes, daddy.’ You said smiling softly.
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22 DAYS UNTIL CHRISTMAS.
On Monday you were called into the principal’s office. You knew you’d find him sitting on the chair in front of Mrs. Halter, legs carelessly open and sweater rolled up to his elbows. What you didn’t expect was finding Mrs. Harrington sitting next to him.
‘Hello.’ You murmured.
She was sitting on the chair next to him, looking behind her shoulder and smiling at you.
‘Hey, sweetie.’
‘Hello, Mrs. Harrington.’ You murmured as you walked in, looking at the principal. ‘I’m sorry about my mother, Mrs. Halter. She landed in New York last night, but her flight has been delayed again.’
You didn’t look at Steve as you sat down on the chair on the other side of him, leaving him in the middle between his mother and you.
The principal placed both hands on the surface of her mahogany desk, looking at you two through her glasses.
‘I don’t like repeating myself. This is strike one for you, but this is the second time Mr. Harrington comes to this office for this kind of improper behavior. I can’t accept this, Martha.’
You noticed the way Mrs. Harrington looked at Steve, disappointment all over her face as he avoided her eyes. You bit your lip looking down at your pleated skirt. When you leaned in to kiss him it had seemed like a really good idea. Now you weren’t so sure about it. But you couldn’t explain Mrs. Halter why you did what you did.
Mrs. Harrington opened her mouth to say something, but you spoke first.
‘It was a stupid bet, Mrs. Halter. Steve didn’t even know about it.’ You rushed to say. ‘And if you want to know, my parents are already refusing to take me skying to the alps this year because of it.’
Steve bit the inside of his cheek at the way you sat straight with your hands over your crossed knees. You were using your diplomatic voice then, and the scene took him back to what his dad said the night of the party. Yes, you could be an amazing lawyer. You were hypocrite enough for the job.
‘What a nightmare.’ She said sarcastically.
‘Precisely.’ You replied.
She stood in silence for a few seconds. ‘Anything to say Mr. Harrington?’
He shook his head then, innocence all over his face as he pretended to hesitate on what to say. ‘Uh, it won’t happen again, Mrs. Halter.’
The three of you walked out of the office. Mrs. Halter let you go with a warning because you had never really been caught in any offensive conduct, and you had somehow managed to convince her to do the same for Steve.
‘I’m so sorry about that, sweetie.’ Murmured Mrs. Harrington while stroking your back. He was a few steps behind you, walking with his hand on his pockets. ‘I’ll talk to Steve about it, he can be so impulsive sometimes.’
You heard him scoff behind you. The blood rushing to your cheeks knowing he had heard her words.
‘It’s not like that.’ You murmured.
The three of you stopped in front of the school’s reception. Mrs. Harrington stroked your arms, standing in front of you. You studied her face then; she had aged gracefully. A few wrinkles around her eyes and mouth, hair still voluminous and outfits as colourful and glamorous as they had been in the past.
‘I know my son.’ She said to you before eyeing him. You got the feeling she really didn’t. Steve rolled his eyes at her words as she took a step towards him, the clicking of her expensive heels echoing through the empty hallway.
‘Mom–’
‘Stay out of trouble, okay?’ Her voice was low when she said it, almost hurt at something you couldn’t quite grasp. She brushed the brown strands of hair that fell on his face. ‘I’ll see you next weekend.’
He simply nodded. You looked down to your shoes, unsaid words hanging in the silence between them.
‘Bye, sweetie.’ She said to you as she walked towards the exit.
‘Goodbye, Mrs. Harrington.’ You softly replied.
Steve couldn’t stand the way you bit your lip while playing with the sleeves of your sweater. He couldn’t stand the way you had gotten him out of trouble. He couldn’t stand his mom’s inexplicable affection towards you. And he couldn’t stand the sadness behind her eyes as he looked down at him with disappointment.
You opened your mouth to say something, but he started walking in the opposite direction, fingers brushing his messy locks as he hit your shoulder with his before heading to class.
‘Thought you said it wouldn’t happen again.’ You whispered as his hand found the curve of your ass under your skirt. Your noses were brushing as you laid against the lockers of the gym’s changing rooms, his sweaty body against you, one knee resting on the bench while the other stood straight.
‘You were the one who came to see me during practice, needy thing.’ His hand squeezed your butt cheek, nails leaving half-moons on your skin as his face was buried in your neck and your hands ran through his sweaty hair.
It wasn’t a lie. You just wanted to see if he was okay after what happened with Mrs. Harrington earlier. It’s not like you cared about him. But in the last few days you had realised how much in debt you felt to her for what she had done for you when you were a child, and she seemed to be getting worse and worse with the passing of years.
His lips on yours made you forget all about it, though. Wet tongues fighting for dominance as he put your soaking underwear aside and his dick teased your wet pussy. ‘This better be quick, okay? No fighting, no bratty attitude. Have to go back in twenty minutes.’
‘You’re so fucking full of your– Uh.’ You couldn’t help but moan when he went in with no warning, fucking you against the locker, your head hitting the metal behind it softly.
‘S exactly what I fucking mean. Can’t shut the fuck up and let yourself be fucked, can you?’
He pushed in deeper as you rolled your eyes at how full your felt, back arching at the sweet sensation of your walls closing around his length.
‘N-No.’ You said in between breaths. ‘Wouldn’t be fun that way.’
To your surprise, he laughed against you ear as he fucked you deeper and deeper, your walls getting wetter by the stimulation. ‘So fucking rude aren’t you? Gonna fuck that brattinness out of you. Gonna– Shit. Gonna ruin’ you.’
‘Try.’
‘What did you just fucking say?’ He took his face out of its hiding place to look at you. But you didn’t reply, instead you took the opportunity to push him down, body falling on the bench as you moved to position yourself on top of him.
You sat on his dick then, the sudden friction making him hit his head against the metal door behind him, your open palm next to it to support yourself. You started moving your hips, grinding on him as his hands found your ass, squeezing again.
‘Shhh-Shit.’ he said under his breath as you followed his mouth with yours.
‘I said try, Harrington.’ You whispered then.
‘Fuck you.’ He said under his breath. His hands squeezed even harder as you started bouncing, firmly and deeply, making him release a soft growl.
‘You’re already doing it.’ You said as he started guiding your hips just how he wanted while you tried to hit that spot you liked with his cock. Both of you using each other’s bodies to reach that sweet point of no return.
He laughed against your neck, a low thing eclipsed by the noises of skin against skin and the quiet moans you were fighting to hold in. A few minutes of sighs, whines and hard gulps passed while you felt your skin fill with goosebumps and getting sweaty at the same time. Your cheek pressed against his, mouth close to his ear to he could hear your desperate moans as you got closer.
‘Steve.’
‘I know. Fuck, I know.’ His arms wrapped around you, holding you impossibly closer to his body. ‘You feel so fucking good. Touch your pussy for me, yeah? Can you do that? Can you fucking do as you’re told for once?’
You were grateful he wasn’t looking at your face, rolling your eyes in pleasure at the way his voice turned deeper the more impatient he became. He let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding when your hand reached under your skirt, drawing soft circles over your clit.
‘Good girl.’ He said in between heavy breaths. Your hips and knees started to shake as you got closer to your orgasm. ‘Yeah, that’s a good girl. That’s a good girl. Let me see you.’
You didn’t know why you were giving in so easily, head moving to place your forehead on his as he controlled the rhythmic speed that was working for you two. He started nodding encouragingly, head resting on the locker behind him to enjoy the way your eyebrows arched, needy eyes looking into the sweet brown of his.
‘Fuck.’ You whispered. ‘FuckFuckFuck.’
Your eyes shut hard, nails digging on the exposed skin of his shoulder as you felt the walls of your cunt tighten. He squeezed your ass once more, pushing your lower back towards him before you felt his hot release inside you. A mess of sticky thighs and heavy breaths filling the changing room.
‘Move.’ He said squeezing your hips. You did as he said, ears ringing and soreness starting to burn in between your legs. You sat on the bench with your back against the lockers, catching your breath as he fixed his gym shorts. ‘Don’t come here for this again, okay?’
You frowned then, staying silent for a long second before you scoffed.
‘Are you being serious right now?’
He looked up and down at you before cleaning his face with a towel.
‘What? I told you I only had twenty minutes. And I don’t wanna get caught again. I actually want to graduate, you know?’
You stood up from the bench, blinking repeatedly at nothing in particular, feeling stupid out of sudden. You took a few steps forwards to be face to face with him.
‘You’re a fucking asshole.’
Steve followed your silhouette with his eyes as you walked out of the changing rooms.
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18 DAYS UNTIL CHRISTMAS.
You had finals before Christmas break, so you tried to study with your thighs pressed under your desk, ignoring the sex flashbacks that often visited you at night when you were alone in bed.
You hadn’t spoken to Steve since Monday, and your determined aims to ignore him brought you memories from the period where your dad was in rehab. Spotting him in between the mess of uniforms, lowering your gaze if you walked next to him in a hallway, holding your breath if his cedarwood cologne invaded your lungs when you walked into a classroom he had been in before.
Everything was fine. You had a little slip no one knew about. You hadn’t been caught, and you were about to get a well-deserved break after months of studying until feeling your head would explode. You’d find someone else to fuck in a few months and it would all be forgotten.
But Steve wasn’t going to let you forget it. He’d still look right at you whenever your walked into the classes you shared, being annoyingly obvious by tilting his head a little and lifting his eyebrows the counted times your eyes met his. You learned to dodge his shoulder when he walked past you, and a couple of times he felt the urge to grab your elbow, so you’d look back at him to ask you what the fuck your problem was.
You endured it with frustrated sighs, rolling your eyes when no one saw you, and staying as long as you could in your dorm studying. You had a lot to look forward to. Your mom would come pick you up on Friday and you’d go to the city over the weekend to buy Christmas presents. You’d go to the Prada store together just like you did every year, and order room service while trying on all the new moisturisers she’d get.
Every winter you tried to forget December 1976, and so far, every winter you succeeded. Fucking Steve Harrington a couple of times wasn’t going to prevent you from succeeding once again.
But on Friday, when you left your room and walked out of the reception with your suitcase, your smile fell at the sight of a man in a suit holding a sign with your name in it. Worse than that, it wasn’t just your name on the sign.
Steve lifted his eyebrows when you walked out, he was leaning against the black car with his arms crossed, wearing jeans and a camel sweater. You blinked many times at the man in front you, a confusing frown adorning your face.
‘Hello, Miss–’
‘This must be a mistake.’ You interrupted him. ‘I-I’m sorry, I was supposed to be picked up by my–’
‘Your mother kindly asked the Harrington family to pick you up this weekend. I’ll make sure to drive you home. You have nothing to worry about.’
‘Kindly asked–’ You whispered under your breath, eyes stinging and anxiety rushing to your chest. ‘Excuse me.’
Steve frowned when you left your bags in front of the chauffeur, walking back inside the school, boots clicking over the mahogany wooden tiles.
‘Get the bags inside, Jack.’ He told the man in the suit. ‘Just gonna check what’s going on now.’
You stood in front of the payphone, holding the handset against your ear as the tears pooled in your eyes.
‘Pickup,pickup,pickup.’ You repeated to yourself tapping your heel against the floor. A few minutes passed as your ears only focused on the beeping of the line and the beating of your heart.
‘Hello?’ You let out a deep breath of relief. ‘Hello?’
‘D-Dad.’ You tried to control your voice, but it came out as a shaky breath.
‘Hey, flower.’ He said, he sounded okay. You were certain he sounded okay. ‘Is everything good? What’s going on?’
‘Nothing.’ You laughed then, cleaning your cheek with the back of your hand. ‘I-I’m sorry. I just, I was just being silly. Didn’t remember who was picking me up this weekend.’
‘Oh.’ He said. ‘Well, technically is your mother, but I can come pick you up if you want to? I thought you were going Christmas shopping tomorrow.’
‘Yes.’ You rushed to say. ‘Yes, we are. I just– I think I’ll just leave with Steve instead. He’s going to Hawkins anyways.’
‘Sounds good then. Give me a call when you’re home safe. Okay, flower?’
You nodded as if he could see you. ‘Sure, dad.’
‘Bye. Love you.’ You smiled, a breathy laugh mixing with your tears.
‘Love you, dad.’
You cleaned your nose with the back of your hand as you hung the phone. You were about to turn around when a hand resting on the top of the payphone startled you.
‘What’s going on?’ You looked up to find Steve’s brown stare, eyebrows frowning at the sight of your watery eyes. ‘Wha– Why are you crying?’
You shook your head in response, moving to walk back to the parking lot.
‘Let’s just go home, Steve.’
‘No.’ He grabbed your elbow, relieved that he finally had a reason to do it. ‘What’s wrong?’
You avoided his eyes, looking to your side, sounding exhausted when you spoke. ‘Steve, I don’t wanna do this right now. Can we go home?’
He didn’t reply, so you looked back at him while you got rid of his grip. ‘Please?’
His hand fell on his side as he nodded.
‘There you are!’ Said your mother as soon as the car parked in front of the Harrington’s house, open arms ready for you. She looked annoyingly gorgeous wearing her red turtleneck and pearl earrings. Mrs. Harrington was standing next to her, looking just as beautiful with a martini glass on her hand.
‘You could’ve told me you weren’t picking me up.’ You said partly returning the hug as her perfume surrounded you.
‘Oh, don’t be silly.’ She took a step back to have a better look at you. ‘Martha invited us for dinner, and I thought it’d be easy if you came with Steve rather than driving all the way there.’
Steve climbed the steps of the entrance, opening the door for the three of you.
‘Right.’ You said under your breath as you walked into the mansion’s entrance. You smiled at Mrs. Harrington then, it was supposed to be a polite gesture, but the drink on her hand only made you feel sad.
‘Are you okay, sweetie?’ She said arching her eyebrows.
You nodded subtly. ‘M just tired.’
‘Why don’t you take a nap in the guests’ room?’ She said squeezing your shoulder, the glass had made her hand cold. ‘Or I can ask a maid to prepare you a bath?’
Steve’s eyes found yours then, standing against the stair’s banister with his hands in his pockets. He frowned at the way you blinked many times, trying to dissimulate your blurry gaze. Without the people, the music and the decorations from last weekend’s party, this place made you feel as if you were ten years old again.
It had never occurred to him you still remembered that one time he prepared you the bath with the pink bubbles. The way you had talked in your sleep while the excitement of the Christmas morning made him wide awake. Your pink pyjamas, having hot chocolate for breakfast. His mother braiding your hair.
The breakdown she had when he asked for a sister right after you left.
‘I’ll take the guest room, please.’ You whispered.
‘I think I made clear I’m not in the mood to deal with you, Steve.’ You said walking down the hallway to get to the guest room.
‘As if I’m ever in the mood to deal with you.’ You heard him say behind you.
You let out a deep breath, rolling your eyes as you walked inside the room. You knew he wasn’t going to leave just like that, so you threw your bag on the little armchair and started undressing.
‘What are you doing?’
‘What does it look like I’m doing?’ You said throwing your jeans on top of your bag. ‘I’m trying to get ready for a nap.’
‘Oh, yeah. You sure as hell are.’
You were left on your panties and your matching cami top, heat rising to your cheeks when you realised you looked exactly as if you had chosen the set with the intention of having sex.
Steve took a few steps towards you, a cocky smile on his face while he studied you. Your eyelids were slightly puffy, and he wished he could just brush his thumbs over them, but there were certain types of touch he knew he was not allowed to give you.
‘Is this your idea of teasing?’ He asked.
You rolled your eyes as you walked to the bed.
‘Not everything is about you, Steve.’
You had just put the covers over your legs when you heard the noise of his belt dropping on the floor.
‘What the hell are you doing?’ You asked as he walked around the bed wearing only his boxers.
‘Getting ready for a nap.’ He said getting under the covers.
You let out a sigh as you looked at the ceiling, feeling his weight on the mattress. You were fighting hard not to smile. You were fighting hard not to cry.
He knew something was going on, but he couldn’t just ask. That’s not what you two did. He wasn’t sure what you did was, but it certainly didn’t involve deep, personal conversations. So that’s why he was careful when his fingers started brushing the skin of your thigh.
You shut your eyes at his touch, letting out a deep breath as his hand traced a line from your knee to your hipbone. You hated to admit it, but it was actually working, making your body relax. Steve took a look at your profile, following the line from your forehead to your chest, pebbly nipples showing through the pattern of pink flowers on your top, a little ribbon in between your breasts. He could’ve just stayed there looking at every single hair of your body turn into a goosebump and that would’ve been enough.
‘You don’t fucking get to time it.’
Your voice made him lift his eyes back at you. ‘What?’
‘You don’t get to time how long we have sex for.’ You said then. ‘Or where. You were a fucking dick last time.’
‘Oh, really?’ He said sarcastically, lifting his eyebrows at your boldness. His hand moved from your thigh to the hem of your panties then, playing with the lacy fabric. ‘What else?’
You rolled your eyes at the way you felt yourself getting wet already. He couldn’t help but look at your mouth when you licked your lips to speak again, scoffing as you pondered about where to start.
‘It makes me fucking angry when you boss me around.’
The idiotic smile on his face almost made you roll your eyes again if it wasn’t for the fact that his fingers had found the wet patch on your underwear, thick digits rubbing the gentlest circles on them.
He moved so his face was closer to you then, breath brushing on your ear as he whispered.
‘Really? ‘Cause I think it makes you fucking wet, and that is what makes you angry.’
You wouldn’t have been able to keep in the wetness that damped your underwear then, your body betraying you in the filthiest of ways as Steve’s deep laugh echoed in your ear.
He moved, making you resist the urge to cross your legs at the absence of his fingers. Steve took his own sweet time, and you had had such a long day that you just let him wrap his fingers on each ankle and place them on either side of his legs as he kneeled in between them. He brushed his hair with his fingers, taking in the sight in front of him.
Your hair falling on the pillowcase, your puffy glossy eyes, the curve of your neck turning into the line of your collarbones. Your perfect nipples hard and sensitive under the fabric of your top, the space between its hem and the lace of your panties. That perfect damp spot turning wetter and wetter every second. His hand cupped your cheek then, thumb brushing your lower lip that he had been thinking about that same morning. Tense silence falling like snow on Christmas Day.
‘You don’t get to tell me what to do.’ He said.
He wanted you to believe him, but your eyes were looking at the bulge in his boxers, then back at his brown eyes, driving him insane. Controlling every single reaction of his touch starved skin. It was the way you so willingly nodded at his words that seemed suspicious to him.
‘You don’t believe me?’ He asked, lifting his eyebrows.
You sat on your elbows then, looking at him with eyes full of irreverence. ‘Of course, I believe you.’
It was the first time he was able to take his own time with you, getting rid of your panties and focusing on the thread of wetness still connected to your underwear when he finally took them off your ankles.
‘You’re lying.’ It was an accusation, but it sounded soft, almost sweet.
His fingers stroked your legs from your knees to your thighs, squeezing there before brushing your puffy clit just lightly, your head falling back onto the pillow at the sensual touch. ‘Why are you fucking lying?’
‘M not– Shit, Steve.’ You lifted your head to find his head buried in between your legs, tongue playfully stroking your clit. ‘Why can’t you just fucking warn me before doing that?’
He laughed softly, breath stroking your cunt just nicely. Two of his fingers found their way inside you, making you squeeze your wet walls around them as you arched your back.
‘You’re not listening. You don’t get to fucking tell me what to do.’He repeated before burying his face in between your legs again, mouth hungrily eating you out as you grabbed your top with your fists, the movement causing you to expose your breasts slightly.
‘Steve–’ You moaned.
‘Shhh.’ He whispered against your pussy while adding a third finger inside you. ‘Shut the fuck up. You don’t want them to know I’m eating your pretty cunt, do you?’ You shook your head in response. ‘No, of course you don’t, needy thing. So stay fucking quiet while I eat you, then.’
‘You’re such a piece of shit.’ You said in between heavy breaths.
‘And you’re a needy brat that’d do anything to get fucked. Guess we deserve each other.’
His flat tongue licked your slit then, reaching your puffy clit and he kept it exposed and wet for you to grind on it. You heard him swallow, and the sound just made you even wetter, looking down at him as he made out with your pussy. You were tired of fighting, and he was right about something. At that point, you’d do anything to get fucked.
So, you just let him take care of it. You made sure to keep your moans low as he kept fingering you and eating you out. Only the wet sounds of his mouth on you and his fingers getting in and out of your pussy filling the room.
And he got lost in it. In your perfume and your taste, in the way you caged him with your legs, wanting him closer. In the needy noises you were fighting to keep in, coming out as whispery whines.
‘Such a sweet cunt, fuck.’ He whispered against it, overindulging every single nerve of the shiny skin that he knew deserved to be devoured. It was as if you didn’t even exist anymore, mouth only focused on the swollen folds in front of him.
A gasp left your lips as you got closer, hands grabbing onto locks of brown hair and legs trying to open impossibly wider. Steve pushed your thigh with his free hand, and you looked down at him to take in the pretty sight in front of you. Eyes shut in concentration, shiny lips hungry and swollen. He was trying to prove something to you, and in the process, he was losing.
‘That’s it.’ You said in a high-pitched whispery moan. ‘Yeah. Eat me just like that. Fuck. Let me just–’ You pushed his head firmly against you and he moaned. ‘Hmm. You like that, don’t you? Look at me, Steve.’
He didn’t know why he did it. Maybe he was just pussy drunk on you, or maybe it was the way you said it in such a quiet yet demanding manner. Not like you wanted it, but like you needed it. But he lifted his eyes look at you. He gave in. He couldn’t just not.
You didn’t expect him to, but his surrender was probably what sent you to the edge. Hips moving, back arching, and legs closing over his head as your pussy clenched and throbbed in sweet pleasure.
You both exhaled loudly when the moment died down. He moved from your legs, cleaning his face with the back of his hand as you reached for your panties. You felt weird then, as if you had to thank him or something.
The thought made you even more flushed. You looked up at him, an awkward laugh leaving you lips that provoked the same response in him.
‘Do you want me to–’
‘Nah.’ He shook his head, checking the watch on his wrist. ‘Dinner will be served in a few minutes so we better hurry.’
‘What?’ You said standing up from the bed to reach for your jeans. ‘Why the fuck didn’t you say something?’
Steve put his hands on his hips then, looking at you from the bed with an amused expression.
‘Thought you didn’t want me to fucking time you.’
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11 DAYS UNTIL CHRISTMAS.
Next week, you sat down for your finals in the mornings and met Steve in the evenings to relieve stress. At least that’s what you were telling yourself.
He visited you in your dorms rather than you going to his, because it would’ve been more obvious that way, high on the thrill of a shared secret. And in a mess of love bites, tongues and moans you started to memorize each other’s skin.
You’d look both ways in the hallway before grabbing the neck of his sweater and pulling him in, the smell of coffee lingering in the air as his lips met yours, walking you backwards to your bed and pushing you on top of your open books.
The days he had basketball practice or had gone swimming, he took it slow, letting you take over just a little, tired brown eyes looking up at you as you bounced on him, tangled hair framing your face while you sucked on his thumb. But most times he fucked you while you still wore your uniform, too needy to waste any time undressing you, just removing your underwear and burying his face on your neck, hands squeezing your thighs while you sat on your desk, your desperate moans making him even more impatient.
Steve was so overtaken by temptation that he missed the signs. He should’ve noticed that Friday afternoon, when he knocked on your door and you opened it with an irritated face.
‘Oh, great.’ You scoffed before walking back into your room. You didn’t look at him with the usual darkness behind your eyes or pull his sweater the way you had done the last few days. You just walked back inside.
He should’ve known that things were going downhill, because he followed you instead of leaving as he would’ve done in any other situation with any other girl. But something in his chest stung at the way you had greeted him, and he couldn’t stand it.
‘What the fuck is your problem?’ He said closing the door behind him.
Your room was a mess of books and clothes, a couple of bags on the bed that you were preparing for when you stayed over at your dad’s this weekend.
‘Nothing, I just–’ You shook your head, grabbing a couple of pants from the floor. ‘I totally fucked up on my Spanish test today.’
Steve’s silence made you turn your back to him. He was leaning against the wall with his arms crossed over his chest.
‘S that all? That’s the reason why you’re being so bitchy right now?’
You held a breath while taking some more clothes from your bed, not bothering about folding them and throwing them inside the bags.
‘Yes, Steve. Some of us actually give a shit about school, you know?’
‘I give a shit.’ He said walking towards you, an uncomfortable feeling of frustration growing on his chest as you hid your eyes from him. He stood next to you with his hands in his pockets. ‘But you need to pull that stick out of your ass. You can’t be the best at everything.’
You clinched your jaw then, eyes blinking and anger rising to your chest. You didn’t know why, but you thought about your dad sitting on the classroom looking at your grades while he spoke to your teacher, and something in your stomach twisted.
‘You wouldn’t get it.’ You said under your breath, closing the zip of your bag.
‘Oh, I wouldn’t get it?’ He scoffed while his hands found your hips.
Only then your eyes landed on his face, making you hold your breath. He had changed his uniform already, a burgundy sweater with its sleeves rolled up to his elbows. The softness of it all made you uncomfortably warm, arms crossing on your chest as you look to your side. But Steve wasn’t having any of that, lifting your chin with his thumb so you would look at him. 
‘Stop being so stuck-up.’ He said. ‘You’ll be fine.’
You don’t know why you leaned in then, crashing your lips with his and running your fingers through his brown strands of hair. Maybe you just needed to drain your anger, or maybe it was the fact that his patronizing attitude had made your eyes water, and you didn’t want him to notice. Steve held you closer, hands wandering under your skirt, gently squeezing your butt cheek as you kissed him with something worse than hatred. Something darker than desire.
‘Fuck– Did you just fucking bite me?’ He said leaning back.
You laughed softly, cleaning your mouth with the back of your hand as you moved to lay on the bed with your legs partly opened, a sweet invitation to make the whole thing much worse than it already was. ‘You kind of deserved it.’
He scoffed, eyebrows lifting slightly as he undid his belt in that cocky way of his, while you enjoyed the view of his flushed cheeks and swollen lower lip. You could’ve sworn there was a smile hiding behind it when he stood in between your legs and put one hand on each of your knees.
‘You don’t get to decide that.’ He said opening your legs, fingers brushing your skin as they drew a line upwards.
His fingers found the lace of your panties, pulling them down slowly, pretty brown eyes focused on the wet patch in the middle of the fabric he threw on the floor. He lifted the fabric of your skirt to peek into your soaked folds letting out a longing sigh, and you felt your nipples turn harder under your bra.
You saw him lean towards your centre and you held your breath, craving for his touch, but his lips landed on the inner side of your thigh, where his mouth sucked hard to leave a love bite. He felt the way your hips sank on the mattress, longing for any type of touch, but his hands only sneaked into your skirt to stroke the skin over your hipbones.
‘Hmm. Spoiled girl. What am I gonna do with you?’ He whispered against your skin, nose brushing as he left a trail of kisses up your stomach, avoiding your needy core. ‘Do you think maybe getting fucked is gonna fix that bitchy attitude?’
He moved to get on top of you, brown strands of hair tickling your forehead as he studied your face. You couldn’t help but roll your eyes when you felt the tip of his cock on your entrance, teasing your clit with soft strokes. Steve tilted his head to have a better look at you, enjoying the way your breath had turned heavier.
‘Answer me.’
Your eyes hid from his then, suddenly turning shy. You didn’t see the way he frowned at your change of mood, and he wondered if you had maybe changed your mind. If your mood had to do with something that wasn’t the test. But a second later you looked up at him with that darkness he knew so well, and you pulled the neck of his sweater towards you so his lips would brush yours, giving him what he had been wanting since the moment he stood up behind your door.
‘Maybe.’ You whispered against his lips. ‘I don’t know.’
‘Hmm. Need a better answer.’ He said, the tip of his cock already on your entrance. ‘Maybe an apology for bein’ so fucking irritating.’
He started slowly inserting his dick, teasing you and making you lift your chin in response.
‘Steve.’ You didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of asking him to fix everything with his touch.
‘…Talkin’ about tests ‘n shit when we could’ve been doin’ this since I got here.’ He buried his head on your neck then, slowly getting carried away by the way your walls were already tightening around him. A breathy laugh left his lips, as he kept teasing you with his dirty talk. ‘Little Miss Perfect. Can’t stand not winning for once, huh?’
You released the breath you were holding when he finally pushed himself inside you, shutting your eyes hard as he started to fuck you slowly. You moved your head to brush your nose with his, and he took the opportunity to look at you while you kept your eyes closed; the way your eyebrows arched in a beautiful, desperate frown. The needy breathes leaving your mouth, mimicking the rhythm in which he fucked you.
‘You’re so mean to me.’
It was a whispery whine. A mess of needy, breathy words that he wouldn’t have heard if he wasn’t this close, if he hadn’t been looking at your face as you said it. He leaned in then, softly pecking your mouth.
‘I’m so good to you.’ You whispered against his lips, opening your eyes just slightly as you wrapped your legs around him. He looked at you with heavy eyelids, brown stare lost in the way your innocent eyes looked up at him. ‘I’m so good to you and you’re so mean to me.’
He should’ve known then, by the way his heart was beating fast against his ribs. By the way he instinctively cupped your face with his hand, thinking you were the sweetest thing he’d ever fucked.
‘How else am I gonna make you cum, huh?’ He whispered back. You laughed softly at his words and his eyes lit up as he smiled. ‘Wanna make you feel good. You’ve had a hard day, right?’
You nodded subtly, closing your eyes at the tender touch of his thumb rubbing your cheek softly.
‘S okay, needy girl. ‘M gonna fuck that stress out of you, okay?’ He whispered against your lips as he buried his dick deeper inside you, gaining speed. You let out a moan at the sudden change of rhythm, arching your back as you got exactly what you needed. ‘You’re taking me so well. Feelin’– Feelin’ so goddamn tight around me.’ Heavy breaths leaving his mouth as he tried not to get carried away again. ‘Did you touch yourself a little before I came here?’
You swallowed hard as you wrapped your legs even tighter around his hips, urgently nodding.  ‘S okay. Told you it was gonna help. See how good it feels when you do as I say?’
You didn’t reply to his arrogant remarks, but you did dig your nails deep into his freckled back underneath his sweater, growing needier as his speed increased and things came back to the way they always were between you two.
‘Let me see you.’ He whispered. ‘Keep your eyes open. I– I wanna see you.’
You did as he said, fist holding hard onto his sweater, looking deep into his eyes while your vision turned blurry and the pleasure took over your body. ‘Needy thing’s been so tense lately, huh? Cum for me. Look at you. Fuck, look at you.’
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9 DAYS UNTIL CHRISTMAS.
You should’ve been suspicious by the fact Steve sent his driver to get you. You had woken up that Sunday and put on your comfiest clothes when the ringing bell made you frown your eyebrows. On Sunday the staff took the day off, and your dad went golfing, so you walked down the stairs of the lonely mansion to find Jack standing in his normal clothes, the absence of his usual suit making you narrow your eyes.
‘Good morning, Miss.’
‘Hi.’ You said shyly. ‘I thought you didn’t work weekends.’
The blood rushed to your cheeks by your stupid comment.
‘I usually don’t.’ He said. You could see he was repressing a smile. You realised then that this man was a hundred percent aware that you were fucking the son of his boss.
‘You could’ve called.’ You said.
He was standing against the door frame of his room, hands in the pockets of his sweatpants and a long-sleeved shirt over his body, looking at you checking the movie tapes scattered around his TV.
He shrugged. ‘Figured I’d just send Jack since we had breakfast together.’
The truth was, he didn’t know what else to do. He had woken up that morning wishing for once to be at the school. He was sure he was getting a cold; the staff was off, and his parents were away on a trip. The house was so intolerably deserted that he knew the echoing silence was going to drive him insane. But now you were here.
He should’ve realised then.
You stood silent for a few seconds, walking around the bed, and sitting over the teal bedsheets.
‘He knows.’
Steve let out a soft laugh. ‘He doesn’t know.’
‘He fucking knows.’ You said with a cheeky smile you were trying to hide, making his wider. ‘He drove me here and left. Believe me, he knows.’
He walked into the room, sitting on the chair of his mahogany desk opposite to your spot on the bed to have a better look at you. Strands of brown hair falling on his forehead, cheeks unusually flushed making you frown your eyebrows.
‘Is that a problem?’ He asked.
His eyes followed your body as you moved from the bed, knees on the floor of his bedroom as you crawled towards him. You enjoyed the way his chest moved when he sighed at the sight of you, stare following the perfect line from your back to your ass, eyelids heavy over brown eyes as you made your way to him in silence.
‘I don’t think so.’ You said sitting on your knees in front of the chair. Your delicate cold fingers found the cord of his sweatpants, carefully undoing it before moving the fabric down, freeing his already hard cock. His body filled with goosebumps with anticipation, dying to be inside your mouth.
Steve let out a deep breath at the sight in front of him. He had the whole day, the whole day for you to fuck in every single room of his lonely depressing house. His hands reached for your face as you started stroking his dick, but you couldn’t ignore the subtle shake of them as they moved to cup your face.
‘Why are you shaking?’ You said taking one of your hands over his on your face. But he simply shrugged, too mesmerized by the sight of your pretty mouth to answer you. ‘Steve, are you sick?’
He shook his head, but you kneeled forwards to put a hand on his neck to check his temperature. ‘You’re burni–’
‘Hey,’ He wrapped his fingers around your wrist. ‘It’s nothing, okay? Don’t worry about it. It’s just a cold.’
‘We shouldn’t be doing this.’ You said then, standing up. His eyes followed you, turning soft at the sudden rejection.
‘Hey– No.’ His tone was urgent while he fixed his sweatpants. ‘C’mon, I’m fine.’
You crossed your arms over your waist, raising one of your eyebrows. ‘I’m not doing this unless you take something, Steve. I’m sure you’ve got a fever.’
He rolled his eyes, letting out a sigh. ‘Right, okay.’
He didn’t say anything when you followed him down the hallway. But as you walked behind him, your mind took you back to eight years ago, walking past the bathroom where Steve had prepared you a bath, feeling the softness of the carpet under your feet, until you both made it to his parents’ bedroom.
You tried to hide your curiosity as you looked around that room you hadn’t really been in before, only imagining the corners of it you never got to see through the memories of your childhood. You remembered it bigger and darker. The empty fireplace and the king size bed illuminated in blue shades of winter since Steve didn’t bother turning the lights on when he walked in.
You followed him into the toilet as he opened the mirror cabinet, looking through the medicines. Standing next to him, you tried to read the labels on the bottles of pills, trying to find anything that could help with a mild cold.
‘Oh.’ You said lifting a hand and taking a glass bottle. ‘Do you have a cough?’
Steve grabbed the bottle from you then, leaving your empty hand in the air by the sudden reaction.
‘No.’ He said putting it back into its place.
You frowned next to him, but he didn’t look at you as he grabbed a little plastic bottle and placed it on the sink.
‘I, uh, I think it won’t hurt to have some. Just to prevent a cough, you know.’ The gesture had caught you so off guard you voice had come out softer than you intended.
He shook his head slightly, avoiding your eyes as he picked the glass on the counter and filled it with water from the sink. You instinctively took a step to your side, looking for his eyes with yours.
‘That’s not cough syrup.’ He simply said twisting the bottle’s lid and taking two pills out.
You realised what he meant as he threw his head back and drank the water swallowing the pills. How could you not? You more than anyone knew what it was like to find stashes of alcohol in the most random places. Behind the bookshelf, among your mom’s shoes collection, under your bed. Between your dolls.
He cleaned his mouth with the sleeve of his shirt, eyes focused on the way his hand emptied the remaining water down the sink. An awkward silence fell between you two as his hands rested on either side of the counter.
‘Do you think I don’t know my mom’s an alcoholic?’
The coldness of his tone didn’t surprise you, but you weren’t used to it, not when it came to this. You didn’t blame him though; you’d been in his position before. You knew the resentment overflowing his tone wasn’t directed at you.
‘I–’ Your throat was dry as you whispered, so you had to swallow hard before speaking again. ‘I thought maybe you just… ignored it.’
He scoffed, a bitter smile in his face as he shook his head and turned around to lean his back against the sink. He still didn’t dare to look at you. He didn’t know if he would be able to stand your soft stare when all he felt was anger. ‘Wish that was the case.’
You nodded in silence, cleaning your sweaty hands on your leggings.
Steve’s mind could only focus on the coldness of the bathroom and his parents’ room. On the fact he had pathetically had breakfast with the chauffeur that day, who had his own family he went to see after doing him the favour of picking you up from your dad’s place. He was sick and no one knew. He probably would’ve forgotten to take something if it wasn’t for you.
That realization didn’t make him feel comfortable.
‘I, uh– I’m actually not feeling well.’ He said running his fingers through his hair and looking down to the bathroom’s tiles. ‘Sorry. I killed the mood.’
You shook your head, voice still soft as you spoke. ‘Don’t apologize.’
He finally looked at you. It was like being ten years old again, almost hoping that if he blinked, he might get to see you wearing your pink pyjamas. He couldn’t stand the sadness in your eyes, your silent sympathy. But he didn’t want you to understand him. In fact, he wished then that you didn’t.
He remembered the little girl that got lost in a mess of uniforms after she came back to school in January 1977, the anger on his chest that first day after Christmas break when he saw you climb out of a black car all by yourself, too many bags for such a little girl. The fight his parents had, one that he had triggered when he mentioned how much he’d love a sister after you left. You turned into just another ghost of childhood.
You noticed how the soft smile on his lips was fighting to make it to his eyes as he looked down to his hands again. ‘You don’t, uh– You don’t have to leave if you don’t want to. I just don’t feel like doing stuff anymore.’
Your hands craved for the feeling of running them through his messy hair, cheeks turning even redder with the fever and the anger. But all you did was nod, and he opened his palm pointing at the door, inviting you to walk out first. You felt his steps behind you as you left his parents’ room in silence, coming back to the present, and pretending this house wasn’t haunted by the same ghosts that once wandered in yours.
Steve and you sat in front of the TV on opposite ends of the couch. You thought you two could hang out without making it awkward, but after half an hour of pretending to watch a Christmas movie, you snorted a laugh at the absurdity of the situation.
‘You’re unbearable.’ He said still looking at the TV while his chin rested on his hand and his elbow on the couch’s arm.
‘I’m sorry.’ You said playing with the corner of the blanket that covered your legs. ‘I just– I find it funny how we spent last week fucking almost every day, but we can’t even watch TV together.’
‘Well, that’s because you were “stressed” with finals.’ He said drawing quotes in the air.
‘I was stre– Oh, damn.’ You stopped yourself when you saw the heaviness on his eyelids over his glossy brown pupils. ‘You look like shit.’
He let out a weak laugh, taking his fingers to his eyes. ‘Thanks.’
‘You need to lay down, Steve.’ You said, moving slightly to spread half of the blanket over him. Your body that close from his made him ever warmer, but he wasn’t going to admit that. You palm lifted to check his temperature, placing it on his forehead, your perfume starting to drive him crazy as you sat next to him. Maybe he should’ve fucked you, he was sure that would’ve helped. ‘You still have a fever.’
‘M fine.’ He said closing his eyes at your touch.
‘Can’t you just fucking do as you’re told?’
He opened his eyes to find you smiling cheekily, like a child. He was trying to supress his own smile, but you didn’t let him. Not when you licked your lips with so much sassiness, looking back at the TV to avoid his eyes.
‘Right.’ He said with fake irritation. ‘You got me.’
You weren’t expecting him to move to place his head on your lap, but you didn’t protest, putting the blanket over his body and noticing the slight shake of his hands as he wrapped himself with it. You followed his pretty profile with your eyes, dying to count the freckles on his neck. Steve sighed at the comfort of your fingers in his hair, looking annoyingly cozy under your touch.
‘See how good it feels when you do as I say?’ You mocked him as your fingers ran through the brown strands.
‘Jesus.’ He said taking his hands to his face. You could’ve sworn he was turning even redder under the blanket. ‘Stop. Please. Now.’
Your laugh echoed through the walls of the house like jingle bells as you made a mess of his hair and he shut his eyes in embarrassment. He should’ve realised then, as you adjusted yourself to be more comfortable on the couch, that the rules were bending, and the lines were being crossed. But your smell was everywhere, and he was exhausted and so, so cold. He could hear the pattern of your breath from where he was, and the distant noises of the TV.
He woke up in total darkness. The digital clock next to the TV showed it was eight in the evening. His fever had lowered, and he felt sweaty and in urgent need of a shower. There was an untouched glass of water on the coffee table on top of a note saying there’s soup in the kitchen.
He couldn’t help but smile at the sight of your handwriting.
The phone ringed twice before he heard your voice on the other side.
‘Hello?’
‘I didn’t know you could cook.’ He said.
He swore he could hear you smile on the other side of the line.
‘I don’t.’ You laughed softly. ‘Dad brought it for you when I called him to pick me up. Are you feeling better?’
It took him a few seconds to reply, he had to take a breath to try to ignore the feeling in his chest.
‘Yeah. Just wanted to check you’d gotten home safe.’
He shut his eyes hard then, taking a hand to his face and hoping you didn’t misunderstand his words, but the short pause on the other side of the line made him think otherwise.
‘Right.’
‘Hey, uh, my parents just got here.’ He said then, eyes already used to the lonely darkness that surrounded him. ‘I’m gonna check on them. I’ll see you later.’
‘Yeah. See you later, Steve.’ He heard you take a deep breath. ‘Get well soon.’
‘Thanks.’
He was still holding the phone’s handset against his ear when he heard you hang up.
He should’ve realised then.
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3 DAYS BEFORE CHRISTMAS.
The annual Christmas gala at the Country Club was supposed to be fun. Each year your mother commissioned your dresses in September, and every two weekends you visited the designer’s studio in the city to try them on. You usually spent all day getting your hair and nails done, and she overindulged you with desserts and nice food. It all sounded nice if it wasn’t for the fact that it was the one day of the year where your parents tended to argue the most.
You sighed silently in the limo as you sat in between them two. The tense silence was killing you, after an argument about your college applications had escalated into a fight about things they read on the newspapers: your dad’s new girlfriend, the alcoholic character in your mom’s new movie.
All you could do was sit in silence and roll your eyes until the three of you stepped out of the limousine and smiled for the photographer who stood at the entrance.
Every year it was the same. You walked together to a table that you usually shared with another family. Joyce Byers gave a speech. If you father had a relapse recently, you didn’t leave his side the whole night. If he hadn’t, you’d talk to a few people from school and gossip with your mom. This year it seemed you would just have to endure the tension between them.
It shouldn’t have surprised you when your parents walked towards the table and you saw him sitting down next to an empty chair wearing his suit, hair partly brushed and in place. How long had it been? More than a week since the last time you’d had his body over yours.
You licked your lips as the Harringtons greeted you, your dad and his quickly jumping into a conversation, and his mom giving you a hug, the smell of liquor on her pores making your stomach twist.
‘Hey.’ His eyes lingered on the black dress you were wearing, a strapless short gown with matching gloves. The velvet choker on your neck made him swallow hard as you sat next to him, your perfume suddenly reminding him how long he’d been without fucking you.
‘Hey.’ You repeated with a plain tone. You grabbed the place card on top of your plate and started playing with it as your parents and the Harringtons started talking.
It was all smiles and laughs between the two families as usual, except for you and Steve. He saw the way you frowned as you internally hated them for ruining your mood, the conversation about college making your muscles tense.
You didn’t even notice when the waiter extended a hand and poured wine on your glass, your sad eyes still focused on the gold lettering of your name.
‘What’s your deal today?’ Steve asked then, making your eyes lift.
You were about to shrug and said something defensive, but when you saw him grab the glass with the red liquid and switch it with his own empty glass, gesturing the waiter not to pour any more of it, your semblance softened.
‘College.’
 He let out a bitter laugh. ‘Understandable.’
You lowered your voice, moving slightly towards him so your parents didn’t hear you. His arm automatically extended over the arm of your chair, while his brown eyes looked at you attentively.
‘Mom wants me to go to Berklee. Dad wants me to go to Harvard– Don’t laugh!’
‘M sorry, ‘m sorry.’ He said licking his lips in a way that made you roll your eyes. ‘It’s just– It’s an honest problem, I get it. I just…’
He shook his head, eyes getting lost on the untouched glass in front of him.
‘What?’
He shrugged. ‘It’s cool that they have such high expectations of you.’
You didn’t reply, seeing the way his eyes turned slightly sad as the weight of his observation fell between you two. A part of him had unconsciously accepted that his parents would probably buy his way into college a long time ago.
‘M sure you’ll be fine.’ He said with a reassuring smile.
‘Look at them.’ The voice of Steve’s mom made you lift your eyes. Your mom was smiling, looking down to her napkin while Mrs. Harrington looked at you two with endearing eyes.
The heat rose to your cheeks and your chest hurt at the way she swallowed the last sip of her wine as she put her glass aside, eyes leaving yours to call the waiter.
Steve saw you clinch your jaw, sinking on your chair as his arm left the back of it to sit straight. His mom didn’t notice the change of atmosphere as you avoided everyone’s eyes, crossing your arms over your chest. A waiter came and refilled her glass as you felt her eyes still on you.
‘I aways wanted you two to get together.’ She said in a sweet tone.
‘It’s not–’
‘Jesus, mom.’ He interrupted you, standing up. His hands reached for the refilled glass of wine on her side of the table. ‘We’re just talking, for god’s sake.’
‘Steve!’ She said frowning as he placed her glass next to his.
‘You’ve had enough. It’s not even nine and you’re embarrassing yourself already.’
‘Steven.’ His dad’s eyes were serious when he said his name, the hardness behind them making you lower your own.
You heard him stand up, the chair’s loud noise making a few people look back at your table. You didn’t look behind your shoulder as he walked outside, getting lost between the crowd of the party. But you did look at the way his mother reached out for the wine glass, sitting back as an awkward silence fell on the table.
Joyce Byers asked everyone to be silent through the microphone then, and you saw the way they all looked up at the little stage on the other side of the room, except for your dad, whose blank stare was focused on the glass of soda in front of him.
You discreetly looked around the room trying to find Steve, a feeling of annoyance on your chest as you did. He had skipped dinner, and his parents had just sat there pretending nothing had happened, laughing and joking with yours. Mrs. Harrington was getting progressively drunk with the passing of hours, and your dad was already on his third glass of soda.
It was unbearable.
The merciless December cold hit your face and body as you stepped out in the parking lot, rubbing your arms with your gloved hands. You narrowed your eyes in the dark, finding his silhouette not far from where you were, leaning against his maroon BMW.
You held your breath as you walked towards him.
‘What are you doing?’ You said standing with your arms crossed at a comfortable distance from him, not entirely sure if you wanted to stay here.
He took the bottle of beer to his lips then, swallowing while looking at you. For some reason that made your blood boil, you felt betrayed in a way. Disappointed, even. But why?
He shrugged.
‘Just thinkin’, I guess.’ His sad tone made you even more frustrated.
You rolled your eyes as you walked the short distance and leaned against the car on the space next to him.
‘Did you drive here?’ Your tone was hostile as you tried to fill the silence with anything.
He nodded in silence.
‘I always bring my car to these things. Sometimes mom gets too drunk, and I drive her back while dad stays.’
You turned your head to your side, licking your lips. You didn’t want him to see your eyes had turned glossy. When you managed to calm yourself down, you looked back at him again.
‘You know you’re dealing with this in the worst way possible, right?’ Your tone was cold, and the scoff that followed it even colder. ‘It’s fucking pathetic.’
He laughed sarcastically as he took the bottle to his lips again, almost agreeing with you.
‘You’re so full of yourself.’ He said under his breath.
‘What?’ You said moving to face him, trying to understand if you had heard him right.
‘The fuck do you care how I deal with it?’ He snapped then, looking back at you. ‘‘M not entertaining your saviour complex, princess. You come here and scold me like this is your fucking business, as if we were together–’
‘I’m not your fucking girlfriend, Steve.’
‘And you think I want to be your boyfriend?’
You sighed looking to your side then.
It shouldn’t have hurt you the way it did.
Steve let out a frustrated growl before standing straight and moving a few steps away from the car. You stayed silent, standing straight as he emptied the contents of the almost full bottle on the pavement, clenching your jaw and looking at the chaos you two had created.
Steve walked back and opened the backseat’s door, his eyes looking at you through the messy strands of hair that fell on his forehead.
‘Get in the car.’
You tapped your heel on the pavement for a few seconds, avoiding his gaze and still clenching your jaw.
‘Please.’ You lifted your gaze to look at him, soft eyes and arched eyebrows looking back at you. His voice was an exhausted choky whisper when he spoke again. ‘Please, for god’s sake. Get in the car.’
You knew you should’ve said no. But what Steve, or anyone else didn’t know about you was that you had lived your whole life knowing that temptation would knock on your door one day. Just like it had knocked on your father’s door once. Just how it knocked on Mrs. Harrington’s door every day. What no one knew about you was that you had been waiting for it your whole life, and you were so glad you could finally open the door after yearning for it for too long.
His lips pressed against yours when he got in, and you pulled him in with your eyes closed, hearing the door locking as you laid on the backseat. Your fingers ran through those brown strands of hair you had missed so much, your needy tongue feeling the remains of beer in his, savouring the taste of alcohol for the first time in your life.
One of his hands cupped your face as you got rid of his tie and your demanding fingers started undoing the buttons of his shirt. He kissed down your jaw and neck while rubbing his hardness against your thigh, whimpers leaving your mouth as he moved down to your chest.
You opened your eyes at the sound of fabric stretching, your boobs out of the dress he had pulled down with his fists, gently caressing them with his tongue, wet nipples turning hard under the dim lights of the parking lot.
He sat up to look at you, and you stared back with needy eyes, mesmerized by the way he looked with his shirt opened and jacket still on. He lifted the dress over your stomach, hands stroking your stockings from your knees to your thighs, squeezing your hips and taking in the beautiful sight in front of him.
You gasped when his hand found the skimpy lace of your thong, soaking wet for him, and he started to rub circles on it, making you arch your back as a sweet sigh left your mouth.
‘Love the sounds you make for me.’ He whispered putting your underwear aside and inserting two fingers inside. ‘So whiny and desperate.’
The car filled with the noises of your wetness as he fingered you, leaning forwards to get impossibly closer to you. His forehead rested against your temple, and you heard him take a deep breath as the warmth of his body made yours sweaty.
Steve started to rub his bulge against your leg, hips moving sensually and weight crashing you just nicely as you could feel him get harder. He released a deep growl against your ear, the pressure making him desperate to be inside you.
‘Steve.’ You whispered his name, a high-pitched thing that made his cock throb. ‘Please.’
He took his face of his hiding place, cupping yours with his free hand. Brown eyes soft despite the darkness behind them, rubbing his thumb against your cheek as if you’d disappear any second then. A choky breath stroked your lips as his nose brushed yours and he shook his head.
‘Want to take my time with you. I fucked up out there.’
‘No.’ You whispered back cupping his face with your hands and looking down to his lips before staring at the brown of his eyes again. ‘Nonono, please. I want you. Please.’
He looked into your eyes, hesitating. Your vulnerable tone had made his dick impossibly harder, those innocent eyes driving him insane. You did what he didn’t dare to, and your hands wandered to undo his belt and pants, pulling them down along with their boxers. He observed it all, breaths getting heavier as you grabbed his length while wrapping your legs around him before pushing him towards you with them.
You both held your breaths as he stretched you out, his partly open mouth hovering over yours while you both silently adjusted at the sudden friction.
‘Shit.’ He breathed out.‘You’re so wet.’ His arms caged you when he started to move, feeling your walls squeeze him. ‘You’re so fucking wet, baby, it’s so fucking hot.’
The pet name caught you off guard, making you moan and arch your brows as you bit your lower lip. He laughed softly, his pretty brown eyes lighting up before giving you a soft peck.
‘You like it when I call you that?’ His nose brushed yours softly, the tenderness on his tone making you weak. ‘Uh, baby?’
You shut your eyes, staying silent for a few seconds as the feeling of his cock inside you made you dumb, holding your breath as he fucked you deeper, refusing to answer.
‘Shit, you do, don’t you?’ He whispered against your lips. ‘Always so fucking needy, I fu– I fucking love it. Makin’ me wanna f-fuck you harder.’
So, he did. Hips crashing against you firmly and faster as you back arched and sweet moans left your pretty mouth. You felt his lips kiss your nose, the space next to your mouth, your cheek, your temple, making your legs weaker with every worshipping gesture.
‘Let me see you, baby.’ He said softly as his lips hovered over yours once again. Your shy eyes looked up at him while your hands played with the hairs of his chest. ‘There she is.’ He kissed you once again. ‘Love seein’ your pretty face while I fuck you. Tell me what you want.’
‘Want you–’ Your eyes closed in pleasure as his hand found your clit in between your bodies and you moaned your words. ‘Want you to fuck me harder.’
‘Yeah?’ His other hand found yours then, interlacing them above your head before licking your lower lip. ‘Want me to spoil you?’
‘Fuck.’ You whispered, rolling your eyes as you started moving your hips. ‘Steve.’
‘What, huh?’ He said nodding at you from above, that cockiness that turned you on so much overflowing his tone. ‘Are you getting bratty on me now, baby?
‘N-No. I just– Shit.’ He tilted his head, looking at your angelical face as your words got lost in between your breaths. ‘I need you. Just you. Please.’
Steve’s eyes turned soft then, leaning forwards to place his forehead on yours. His hand squeezed yours as you kept whining with a face full of agony, almost shivering at the pleasure you felt. He’d do anything to give it all to you, everything you needed, as long as he could hear that sweet voice of yours asking for it forever.
‘Tell me to stop.’ He whispered, making you open your eyes at the sudden request. But he kept fucking you as he studied your face, eyes following the lines of your collarbones, the curves of your bouncy boobs, your swollen lips and glossy eyes. ‘T-Tell me to stop. F-fuck, tell me to stop if you’re not mine.’
You blinked repeatedly at his words while he went deeper inside you, hips grinding fast, begging, trying to fuck a confession out of you. One he didn’t know if he was ever going to get.
The fear of never getting one made him hide his face on your neck, letting the air get filled with the noise of his growls and your heavy breaths as his movements turned violently needy.
His hand squeezed yours as you held onto him in confusion, pulling the hair on the back of his neck as he fucked you faster and you felt the pleasure overtaking your body. You should’ve asked him to stop there, but every time you opened your mouth to say something a loud moan left your lips instead. He was fucking you just how you liked it and you were certain he knew it, keeping you from acknowledging the hard truths that were being unleashed the more he turned your body into nothing.
You shut your eyes hard as you felt your walls closing around him, soft animalistic sounds leaving your throat as the bittersweet orgasm numbed your senses. But Steve didn’t stop, he kept fucking your overstimulated cunt in the same rhythm, wanting to do so until you forgot your name, or that you hated him, or that he was foolishly risking it all like an idiot. Fucking you until you forgot you had ruined him.
‘Ste–’
‘Shhh.’ He hushed you as his other hand held onto your hip and squeezed the skin there, his desperate voice eclipsed by the sounds of skin against skin. ‘Just– Just let me fuck you.’ He only moved his face to crash his lips against yours, trying to show you what he couldn’t say with words. ‘Let me fuck you, please. Just let me– Let me– Sh-Shit.’
He collapsed on top of you as his hot cum filled your pussy. Your eyes got glossy while he stayed there, body heavy and sweaty on top of yours, and you wondered what to do. Your shaky fingers hesitated on his scalp as you two tried to catch your breaths, and the lust vanished, leaving a void of emptiness behind.
You pushed his chest softly, gaze to your side as he sat up quickly. His eyes tried to find yours as he took your hair off your face, but he stopped when he noticed the way you shrunk under his touch, licking your lips as you searched for your shoes and underwear in the backseat of his car.
You heard him sigh, a shaky scared thing you weren’t going to acknowledge. He was right, you had this stupid saviour complex that put you in these absurd situations and you had to stop screwing it all in the name of it at some point.
‘C-Can you stay?’ Steve asked, but you shook your head repeatedly in response. His hand hovered over your arm, but after touching you so many times before, he still didn’t know how to hold you. ‘I-I’ll drive you home.’
‘You shouldn’t drive, Steve.’ You said putting your shoes on. ‘You were just drinking.’
‘Please. Heyheyhey.’ His hand found your face when you moved to open the door, and you had no other option than to look back at him with hurt in your eyes. Brown pupils mirroring the ache you tried to hide. ‘Let’s talk, let’s–’
‘No.’ you said holding his wrists and getting rid of his grip. ‘I’m sorry, Steve. I’m not doing this. I can’t. We’re not doing this anymore.’
He swallowed, trying to understand how you could be so cold right after burning under his fingertips. He observed you in silence, eyebrows arching, and eyes hurt as his hands still lingered close to your body.
You stepped out of the car, closing the door behind you as you walked back into the party. You heard the sound of the other door closing over the clicking of your shoes.
‘Can you just listen to me for a second?’ His hand on your elbow made you turn back, finding him with his shirt still unbuttoned under his jacket, messy hair, and glossy eyes as he looked at you. It was so cold you could see his breath in the air.
‘Steve–’
‘I’m trying…’ He said in between breaths, the anxiety rising to his chest as he spoke. ‘To t-tell you… how I feel.’
You stood straight, shaking your head as you looked at your shoes. He tried to take a step towards you then, but you moved before he could, a clear warning of how things had drastically changed in a matter of seconds.
‘I’m not doing this, Steve. We’re too similar.’
‘Sweetheart,’ he said in an exhausted tone, word almost breaking at the end as he got the courage to cup your face in his hands. He was tired of not being able to touch you like wanted, love you like he wanted. ‘How’s that a bad thing, huh? Look at me.’
‘I don’t– Steve.’ You couldn’t help but melt at his touch as his thumbs stroked your cheeks. ‘I’m not doing this.’
‘Listen–’
‘No, you listen. I’m tired of saving people.’ You said putting your hands on his wrists once again with the intention of getting rid of his grip, but they stayed there, holding on to his touch. ‘I’m exhausted. You know why I kissed you that day at school? Because my dad was about to grab a glass of whiskey and fuck my life over for the thousandth time. I was so desperate.’
His eyes got soft at your confession; his hands would’ve fallen from your face if you hadn’t been holding them.
‘And then–’ you said in a shaky breath, tears pooling on your eyes as you did. ‘And then there’s your mom.’
You knew you were hurting him, but there was a reason why you had kept yourself away from the Harringtons for so long. And now that you had crossed the lines, the possibility of Steve following her steps was too painful to bear.  
‘My mom.’ He took a step backwards, studying your face as his hands finally fell from your face, your own hovering over his wrists now.
You shut your eyes, feeling the tears run down your cheeks. Feeling selfish and scared. And desperate to have those hands cupping your face again.
‘I am terrified that you will end up just like her.’ You admitted crossing your arms over your body, the shameful admission making you shrunk.  
Steve’s eyes looked away from you, hands finally falling on his sides as he attempted to leave, but after taking a few steps away, he seemed to change his mind.
‘You think you’ve got your shit figured out, but you’re as likely to end up like your dad as I am to end up like my mom.’ He said, anger overflowing his tone as he looked at you. ‘You can’t stand the sight of her? Well, she can’t even look at you without remembering how badly she wanted another kid.’
Your eyes turned soft as his honesty, and he had to look away, rubbing his shaky hand against his mouth as the frustration took over himself.
‘D’you know there was a time we couldn’t even mention your surname in the house? Or talk about your dad? Do you even remember when my mom stopped talking to your mom?’ He laughed bitterly, running his fingers through his hair. ‘Probably not. But I do. I sure as hell do. You have no idea what it’s like to go through what she’s gone through. Or what it was like to see her miserable efforts to have another baby when she couldn’t even be my mom.’
You bit your lip as you look to your side, taking a deep shaky breath. He couldn’t stand the sight of you with your shivering arms and your long gloves and your short dress that couldn’t keep you warm like he knew he could.
You lifted your gaze when you heard him sniff and he just stood there, looking at the snowy ground. Looking at what you had created and destroyed together.
‘You think you’re above everyone else, but you’re just a coward, and I hope you know that.’ He said, before whispering under his breath. ‘I hope you fucking know that.’
You stood there as he left, walking past the BWM as he buttoned his shirt up and got lost in the maze of cars and snow. Your knees were shaky, and your nose blocked, but you still stood there cold, and alone. Thinking that maybe that’s what you deserved after all the damaged you had caused.
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CHRISTMAS DAY, 1984.
You woke up in the room of your mother’s house with the excitement of a little girl. Your blankets were soft, the heating was at the right temperature and for what you could see through the window of your balcony, it seemed like it had snowed last night.
You climbed out of the bed to walk downstairs, too excited to notice the absence of the smell of coffee in the air, the lack of the television sounds, the emptiness so unlikely in your house. On Christmas day you had breakfast with your mom, lunch at the Club, and dinner with your dad. After that, you went to his place, played one of his records and shared a can of soda to celebrate his sobriety. It was one of those days of the year where you felt the most grateful and lucky to have the life you had.
That’s why when you walked into the living room to find the Christmas tree empty you smile fell.
‘Mom?’ Your voice echoed through the house; you were about to walk towards the kitchen when you saw the note on top of the coffee table.
Emergency. Call Dad.
You stood there for a few seconds in shock before you ran fast to the phone. Your fingers shook as you dialled his number while feeling eyes watering. The line beeped. Someone picked up.
‘D-Dad? Daddy? Are you okay?’ You asked with a shaky voice.
‘Hi, flower. Yes. Yes, I’m okay.’ You felt your heart beating fast as he spoke. ‘I’m getting ready to pick you up, okay?’
‘W-What is going on? Where’s mom?’
‘Uh,’ You heard him hold his breath, realizing you didn’t know yet. ‘Martha had an accident last night. She was drunk and hit a tree. Your mom’s at the hospital with the Harringtons right now.’
You let out a deep breath, nodding as if he could see you. You felt so stupid then, as the tears pooled on your eyes. As if you could’ve done something to prevent it.
‘Right. I’ll go get ready.’
‘Okay, flower. I’ll see you in ten minutes.’
‘Okay.’ You said letting out a shaky breath. ‘Okay.’
Your dad parked outside the hospital, the white building looking dreary and lonely surrounded by the snow. You rubbed your hands on your jeans as you tried to warm your hands, but you didn’t think it was the cold what was making you shiver.
You took a deep breath, waiting for your dad to turn the engine off, but the heating was still on, and the car was still filled with silence as you looked at the blue gift bag next to your shoes. You thought maybe the excuse of giving Steve a Christmas present would help with the apology you knew you owed him. But now it seemed like a shallow idea.
‘Dad?’ You said lifting your gaze.
It was then you realised he didn’t want to look at you, making you bend forwards, looking for his eyes. He took his hands to his mouth, hesitating about what to say.
‘I, uh… I can’t go in there, flower. I just can’t go in there.’
You swallowed then, realising the real weight behind his words, the endless fight that you had witnessed throughout the years, from your childhood until now. You nodded silently, grabbing his hand over the console and squeezing hard.
‘Dad, you’re doing great. Christmas is always hard and you’re doing great.’
He shook his head, looking at the way his eyes got lost beyond the windshield. There was a long silence as he still avoided you, before he let out a deep breath.
‘The charity party. Bourbon.’
Your eyes dropped as you remembered that night, the way you left with Steve to save him the embarrassment of seeing his mom drunk. You knew it now; this wasn’t your weight to carry. You’d never get to win. Steve and you would never win.
You opened your mouth to say something, but he spoke first.
‘I’m sorry, flower. I–’ He looked back at you then, reading the hurt in your eyes. ‘I know I’m a terrible dad, but I promise you I haven’t drunk anything else since then. And I try. I want you to know that I try.’
You shook your head, a sad smile on your face as you held his hand again. ‘That’s twenty-five days sober, daddy. It’s good. It’s enough, okay?’
‘Okay.’ He said breathing out. A soft smile lighted up his face then. ‘Thank you, flower. I’ll wait for you here.’
You nodded, letting his hand go, and climbing out of the car to face the coldness that awaited you.
‘There you are.’ Said your mom as soon as you walked into the hallway, blueish lights making you feel sick just by the look of them. She handed you a brown bag and a cup of coffee, and you tried to balance it all out on your hands. ‘Okay so, they’re on the third floor. She left surgery a couple of hours ago, and Roger’s calling the family while I deal with the paperwork of the rehabilitation centre.’
You blinked many times, digesting all the information she rambled about.
‘I’m trying to get hold of some contacts that helped me when you dad got in, so I need you to be useful. Those are for Steve; poor kid hasn’t even eaten since yesterday.’
Your heart beat hard at the mention of his name, thinking about him getting the news, and sitting all alone in this depressing place.
‘…And it’d be nice if you apologized for whatever you said at the Country Club.’ Your eyes lifted to find her looking back at you, tone firm and eyes serious as she spoke. ‘That kid’s been miserable all week. And I hope you’re taking your birth control just like I taught you.’
‘Mom.’ You felt the heat rising to your cheeks then. She started looking for something in her bag, taking out a cigarette case. You felt so stupid for thinking she wouldn’t notice what had been going on.
‘Don’t Mom me.’ She said taking out a cigarette and putting it in her mouth. ‘It’s important. Now go upstairs and be useful, I’m gonna make some calls outside. I need to get out of here, you know how much I hate hospitals.’
He was sitting outside room number 325. You stood outside the elevator like an idiot, feeling the cowardice all over your body and wishing you could just turn back and tell your dad to take you home. But then he lifted his eyes, brown and exhausted, and you had no other option than to walk towards him.
‘Hey.’ You said standing in front of him, he was looking at his shoes while you put the cup of coffee and the brown bag on the table next to him. ‘Mom got you breakfast. She said you haven’t eaten.’
He sniffed quietly, shaking his head. ‘M not really hungry, but thanks.’
You stood straight again, your shoes in front of his as you thought about what to do. Your hands ached to touch him, resting on either side of you, and you hated yourself for the mess you had made, knowing you probably needed him more than he did right now.
‘Steve…’
His head tilted forwards then, crashing softly against your stomach. He closed his eyes, taking a deep breath to inhale your perfume, hands finding your hips as your fingers instinctively ran through his hair and your pulse ran fast on your ears.
His firm hands wrapped around your hips, and he pulled you in, sitting straight so his head rested against your breastbone, one of your hands finding the back of his neck, and the other stroking his messy hair, leaving soft kisses that wouldn’t fix anything, but he still needed like oxygen.
You stayed there for minutes or hours, whispering I’m sorrys against his scalp while his soft sniffs echoed through the hospital’s hallway.
‘I owe you a can of soda.’ You told your dad as you stood on the threshold of Steve’s house.
He shrugged. ‘Don’t worry about it, flower.’
Your hug caught him by surprise, you noticed by the way his arms hesitated before wrapping around you.
‘Merry Christmas, dad.’ You said hugging him tighter. He laughed softly, patting your back.
‘Merry Christmas, flower.’ You took a step back, smiling at him. Even though Steve was already inside he was sure to murmur. ‘You take care of each other, okay?’
You nodded, smiling softly as you put one of your hands on your back pockets while the other held the blue gift bag.
‘Your mom’s coming over later, but if she can’t, make sure to call me.’
‘Sure, sir.’
He smiled at you before making his way to the car.
You closed the door behind you, thinking about the little girl that once walked in wearing her little Prada loafers, how scared she was as she made her way to the living room like you were doing now.
‘Hey.’ You said as you walked in. He was sitting in front of the tree, cross sitting with his back arched looking at the presents.
His eyes looked at you for a second before falling on your wrist.
‘S that for me?’ He asked. The smile on his mouth didn’t reach his eyes, but you could see he had at least found it amusing.
You shrugged. ‘S got your name on it.’
‘Maybe Santa got the wrong address.’ He joked.
‘Maybe he did.’ You agreed, sitting next to him. You removed the bag handle from your wrist and placed the present in front of him. ‘Merry Christmas.’
He bent forwards then, grabbing a green bag from the mess of presents under the tree. You smiled as he placed it in front of you.
‘Merry Christmas.’
The silence was filled with the noise of the bags being opened, childish excitement taking over your body as your curiosity increased.
‘No way.’ You said taking out the pink pyjama set.
‘That’s uh…’ He said lifting the rocket pyjama pants you got for him, a soft laugh leaving his lips. ‘Thank you.’
You smiled at him, eyes looking down at your hands playing wit the pink fabric as you tried to find the right words to say.
‘I, uh… I owe you a huge apology, Steve.’  You licked your lips. When you looked up, his eyes were lost on the patterns of the rug, his pretty brown eyebrows frowning.
 ‘I–’ He shook his head. ‘I don’t want to hear it. I just– It’s been a long day.’
You nodded then, looking away so he wouldn’t notice the way your eyes were getting glossy. You let out a sigh.
‘Okay.’
You wondered is this was how things would be from now on. The warmth you both shared in the hospital now gone, Christmas lights illuminating the room as the blue shades of winter sneaked into the living room. You followed him with you eyes as he stood up, taking the gift bag with him.
‘I’m gonna take a shower, but just make yourself at home, okay?’ He scratched the back of his neck in nervousness as the real weight of exhaustion fell on his shoulders.
You nodded from your place on the floor, seeing him hesitate for a second before walking upstairs.
Your eyes were absently looking at the TV as the sun set outside. Pictures of little Steve hanging from the wall made you bite your lip as you tried to concentrate on the movie, but the unbearable feeling of knowing he was all alone somewhere in the house was making your hands sweaty. So you put your pride aside and climbed the stairs to his bedroom.
You were about to knock the door when it opened. Watery brown eyes and red nose as he sniffed softly. His hair was still wet, and the sight of him wearing a long sleeve top and the rocket pyjama pants would’ve warmed your heart if it wasn’t for the fact that he was crying.
‘Are you okay?’ You whispered, it was a silly thing to ask, but a good excuse to cup his face with your hands. You got closer, brushing your nose with his as his hands found your hips to hug you tight against him. Eyes shut as you cleaned his cheeks with your thumbs.
‘Can you just…’ He breathed out a tired whisper. ‘Can you just stay here, please? I just– I just need you to stay here, and we can just– just go back to normal when this is over, but–’
‘Shhh.’ You said stroking his nose with yours. He opened his eyes to look at you, eyebrows arched as he tried to hold onto you. ‘I’ll take care of it. Let me take care of it, okay?’
He leaned in first, pulling you with him as his needy mouth kissed yours, fingers sneaking under your shirt as you both fell on the bed, and he rolled over to be on top of you.
It was cold. It was quiet. Too many words unsaid as the clothes fell on the floor and you both gave in once more. The taste of his tongue got mixed with his tears as his hands got rid of your underwear, and you let him use you. Your mouth opened to say his name many times, trying to get him to look at you, but every time his mouth found a way to be on yours, shutting you up with sweet desperation.
His breath pattern was getting unusually fast when you felt his dick on your thigh, and you pushed him softly but firm enough to finally break the kiss.
‘I, uh…’ He looked down, eyebrows almost frowning in pain as you tried to look for his gaze. ‘Maybe I c-can’t do this.’
‘Steve. Look at me.’ One of your hands cupped his face, placing his forehead on yours and the other was flat on his chest. ‘Let me see you.’
He looked up at you then, brown pupils confused at the sweetness on yours, glossy eyes staring back at him as you whispered. ‘I’m here. I love you. I’m not going anywhere.’
His eyes turned soft then, shaking his head lightly. ‘Don’t say it if–’
‘I love you.’ You repeated, this time looking for his lips with your mouth as his warmth made you feel needier. ‘And I’m yours. You can fuck me like I’m yours.’
He let out a deep shaky breath that he didn’t know he was holding. His face fell on your neck then, and you released a gasping moan when he finally went inside you.
Your hands held onto his hair as you wrapped your legs around him. His mouth leaving sweet kisses on your neck, drawing a line towards your ear as he fucked you slowly, patiently.
‘loveyou. loveyou. loveyou.’ He repeated, his nose against your cheekbone as he did. ‘Hmm. ‘M never getting tired of tellin’ you. Gonna f-fuck you until it gets into your pretty head.’
You laughed softly, and he took his head out of its hiding place on your neck to look at you. Pretty brown eyes lit up like Christmas lights at the sound of your laugh.
He stared at your body, licking his lips and increasing his speed as your eyebrows arched and your eyelids got heavy with the pleasure. A whispery whine left your lips as you tilted your head, walls squeezing him deliciously.
‘What?’ You were suddenly turning shy at his stare.
‘Just love seein’ you.’ He said. ‘You’re mine, right?’
You nodded as you started moving your own hips, swollen lips partly open as you got lost in the pleasure. He cupped your face momentarily, before inserting two of his fingers inside your mouth. You made sure to make them sloppy for him, holding his wrist with your hands and blinking slowly as you did so. His eyes taking in the beautiful sight in front of him before taking them out to stroke your clit.
‘My good girl.’ He sighed, kissing your temple while he drew the softest circles on your sensitive bud. ‘My sweet girl.’
He placed his forehead on yours again, and your finger drew a line from his cheek to his lips before brushing his mouth with yours. ‘Wanna cum for you. Need you to fuck me harder so I can cum for you.’
He smiled softly, doing as you said, giving into your sweet request that he’d never deny. His tongue found yours as his hips crashed against you firmly, filling the room with the sounds of skin against skin.
He got lost in the way your pretty mouth bit his lower lip, in the way your hands scratched his back as he made sure to give you what you wanted, yielding completely to your overwhelming warmth.
You opened your eyes for him when you felt your walls starting to squeeze, and your breath started to get heavier, nonsense leaving your lips as you tried to tell him, but he was so deep inside you, and you were being fucked so nicely that all you could do was let out those choky moans that drove him crazy.
‘Cum like you’re mine, baby.’ He said. He begged. ‘F-fuck. Cum for me, needy thing.’
Your fingers squeezed the skin on his ribs as you moved your hips, and you rolled your eyes, knowing you were getting close. You tried to instinctively move your head to your side, but Steve held your chin firmly so you would look at him.
‘Uh.’ You gasped. ‘Baby, I’m–’
But you couldn’t finish any sentence until his nose brush with yours and the sweet, innocent peck he gave you finally sent you to the edge.
‘That’s it.’ He kissed your sweaty cheek as your frail body convulsed under his and he reached his own orgasm. ‘That’s it. S-Shit. So good– So good for me.’
You stroked his hair as he hid his head on your neck, body falling on yours and arms wrapping you, catching your breaths as the night fell outside and only the reflection of the snow lit up the room.
Steve sat back to grab the blankets on the end of the bed and wrapped you two in them, coming back to his space between your legs. You could notice the way he avoided your eyes as he fixed your hair, arranging the wild strands that fell on your face.
‘Hey.’ You said playing with the hairs of his chest.
His eyes lifted then, full of doubt as you looked back at him. He was almost expecting you’d take it all back.
But all you did was tilt your head, hand cupping his face and thumb brushing the little stubble that was growing. You felt him relax under your touch, eyes getting soft by the way you were smiling at him.
‘You need a nap.’ You whispered.
‘And you need a shower.’ He said in the same tone.
You laughed softly, but you saw the way his eyes had turned serious again.
‘I’m not going anywhere.’ You said. You’d repeat it as many times as he’d need to hear it.
He moved then, laying on his back and opening his arm so you’d cuddle against him. You saw him swallow hard as you laid on your side, elbow on the pillow and jaw on your hand as you noticed the way his eyes got glossy.
Steve let out a deep breath when your hand drew a line from his forehead to his chin, relaxing under your touch. He took your hand and kissed your palm before holding it against his cheek.
‘Thank you.’ He whispered.
You shook your head. ‘Anytime.’
He smiled softly, wrapping his arms around your waist and pulling your naked body to him. He buried his head on your chest, letting himself be lulled by your smell and the warmth of your skin, brushing your skin with his thumbs.
He closed his eyes as you kissed the soft brown locks of his head, and he fell asleep on your arms, hearing your soft I love yous in the distance, and knowing it was true. Two lonely kids stitching each other’s wounds on Christmas day.
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this is a repost, because i had a few problems with the tags. tagging everyone who kindly interacted with the first post (if you’re not here it’s because tumblr didn’t let me tag you but ily anyways): @claire0531 @liacrain @aurora-austen @stevesbeautifulhair @idontevenlistentomitski @pumpkinonice
I do no consent for people to plagiarise, translate, copy or repost any of my written works anywhere. I do not consent people to use any of my written work for AI purposes.
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strangersatellites · 10 months
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best friends steve and eddie who think it would be funny to have a fake engagement photo shoot and send out wedding invitations and a gift registry to famous people.
best friends steve and eddie who get a keurig from oprah, a knife set from samuel l. jackson, a set of wine glasses from tony hawk, and a plethora of other household items they’d been eyeing for their shared apartment with robin and nancy and laugh so hard they can’t breathe.
best friends steve and eddie who keep up the charade and swindle free cake samples out of all of the local bakeries and eat cake until they’re sick.
best friends steve and eddie who know they’d be the talk of the town attending their high school reunion back home hand in hand and don’t see the issue with keeping it up a little longer.
girlfriends robin and nancy wondering how long steve has to keep wearing his ring around the house and eddie has to keep referring to him as his fiancé to their friends before they figure out that maybe it’s not pretend anymore. maybe it never was.
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cherriontop · 2 years
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Don't Leave Me Here (Without You)
Chapters: 1/?
Fandom: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Steve Rogers
Characters: James "Bucky" Barnes, Steve Rogers, Sam Wilson (Marvel), Bruce Banner, Winter Soldier, Old Man Steve - Character
Additional Tags: post Endgame, Canon Divergent, Old Man Steve, Time Travel, Infinity Stones, Hurt Bucky, emotionally hurt bucky, kidnapped steve, Alternate Universes, HYDRA Steve, Winter Soldier Bucky, old steve is an asshole, Hydra Peggy, winter soldier cruelty, hydra cruelty, old steve is really bad in this universe, sam and bucky being bros, eventual Steve/Bucky, Slow Burn, idiots who can't admit their feelings, Mentions of Wakanda, Attempted Murder, tags to be updated
Summary:
After returning the infinity stones back to their original places, Steve comes back an old man and promptly cuts contact with all his friends, dropping off the face of the earth. Suspicious, Bucky and Sam team up to discover what truly happened to Steve when he went back into the past. But the more they uncover, the more questions that arise, and the more danger they find themselves in, until finding the truth seems impossible. How can you find someone who doesn't want to be found?
They catch a lucky break as they decide to travel back and meet with Steve, jumping back just in time to witness him be kidnapped by none other than the Winter Soldier, only he isn't from their timeline. In fact, neither is the Steve who returned to the future with a sinister plan that endangers them all. Now Sam and Bucky not only must rescue their Steve from the clutches of Hydra, but also stop the new Steve from reigning terror over their timeline.
Now with a moodboard created by me!
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cosmicpoppies · 9 months
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What a difference a year makes....happy birthday Peachy 🍑 💞🎉
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