౨ৎ "he treats you and makes you feel exactly how a man should make you feel. whichever girl gets that man one day will be lucky" – sarah hindsgaul about joe keery
summary: you accidentally overhear steve calling you “clingy” to robin. instead of confronting him, you retreat into silence, letting your hurt fester. steve notices and becomes desperate to understand, but the more he reaches out, the wider the distance grows.
word count: 6.1k
a/n: after writing way too much steve fluff, it’s time for some angst with my fav trope: fmc overhears her spouse call her clingy… eventual happy ending <3
tags: takes place after s4 timeskip, so much angst, emotional hurt, crying, reader has scars from a demo attack, nancy and robin are so sweet here, distancing, reader has ptsd, emotional vulnerability, reader was eddie's bsf, mentions of violence, trauma, typical upside down gore, lack of communication, so much fluff at the end, happy ending.
You truly didn’t mean to eavesdrop.
If anything, it was an accident, a cruel, stupid accident orchestrated by the universe itself and whatever higher power up there that wanted to see you suffering.
You’d been at the Squawk with Steve and Robin, the three of you crammed into the booth like always. Robin, as usual, was rambling about something while Steve laughed and bumped his knee into yours under the table, grounding you without even trying.
By the time the clock crept past 8:30, the air outside was already dark and heavy, that familiar tightness had started curling in your chest; one that always showed up when it got late.
You’d told yourself you could handle it, that you were fine and you weren’t helpless, but you still asked Steve to accompany you home anyway, too afraid to go on your own.
“Can you come with me?” you’d asked casually, “or at least drive me home?”
Steve frowned, glancing at Robin. “Baby, you’ll be fine. You can go on your own. I’ll be back in like an hour, okay? ”
You nodded and kissed him goodbye, then you walked out to your car telling yourself you weren’t a scared little kid, and that nothing can harm you anymore.
Only to realize halfway down the lot that your coat was still inside.
So you turned around.
That was all; a forgotten coat, a stupid, normal thing, and you would have been in and out in seconds if not for your name cutting through the noise in the squawk as you heard Steve mention you to Robin.
You shouldn’t have listened, you knew that. You were raised better than to hover at doors and steal pieces of conversations that weren’t yours to hear, but your body didn’t listen to reason anymore.
Your feet stayed planted, your lungs forgot how to work as panic washed over you so fast and so violently that for a second you weren’t in Hawkins at all.
You were back in the Upside Down.
Back in that choking red sky, where the air is thick and cold. You could feel all over again the vines slick and alive under your hands as you ran, heart tearing itself apart inside your chest.
You could still feel the demobats, the weight of them, the wet snap of their wings, the sound of flesh ripping, the blood, so much blood, everywhere you looked there was bloodbloodbloodbloodblood—
—the combined screams of yours and Eddie’s. You remembered the way his body had gone still, the way Steve had dragged your bloodied body away as your entire abdomen was ripped apart, shaking so badly you couldn’t even scream.
You remember the way you’d thought you were going to die there with your throat ripped open and your bones scattered across that fucked-up place.
You hadn’t felt safe since.
Four months, five months? however long it had been, it didn’t matter. Fear had latched onto you like a parasite and refused to let go.
Everything startled you now, doors, clocks, cold air on your neck, cars backfiring, footsteps too close behind you. The world felt like a nightmare, and the night was only much worse.
Steve was the only place that didn’t feel like that.
Steve made it quiet. Steve made it stop.
You hadn’t even realized you’d started clinging until it was already done, until your body had decided he was shelter, that he was protection, that if he was near then nothing could touch you.
And now you were standing outside a door, listening to him talk about you.
“I don’t know, Robin,” he says again, voice rough and worn down, like he’s been chewing on the same thought for weeks and it’s finally gone bloody. “She’s just… different. Ever since.”
Robin leans back against the counter, arms crossed, watching him carefully. “Yeah,” she says, slow and measured. “No shit. She went to literal hell, Steve.”
“I know that,” he snaps too fast, immediately regretting the edge in his voice. He exhales, drags a hand down his face. “I know. I do. That’s the problem. I know, and I still feel like shit about how I feel.”
She waits. Robin’s good at that. At letting him talk himself into the truth.
“It’s like,” he starts again, quieter but faster, words tumbling over each other now, “she’s everywhere. All the time. Wherever I go, she’s already there or tryin’ to be. If I grab my keys, suddenly she needs to leave too. If I’m sittin’ down, she’s sittin’ down. If I say I’m tired, she’s tired. It’s like she can’t exist unless I’m right next to her.”
Your stomach drops where you stand, frozen just outside the door, fingers clenched tight around the strap of your bag.
“I’m serious,” Steve keeps going, oblivious, frustration bleeding through every word. “If I’m goin’ to see Dustin, she’s got a reason to come. If I’m headin’ to the Squawk, somehow we’re paired up for drills again. She doesn’t do anything alone, Robin. Never. She’s just… latched onto me.”
He laughs humorless. “And I sound like a dick sayin’ it, I know I do, but it’s fuckin’ suffocating.”
Suffocating. Like he’s drowning because of you.
Robin doesn’t answer right away. When she finally speaks, her voice is softer, more careful. “Steve. That’s not weird, matter of fact it's a normal response given what she's been through. That’s her brain trying to keep her alive.”
“I know,” he says, rubbing at his neck like it physically hurts to admit it. “I know she’s not doing it on purpose.”
“She nearly died,” Robin presses. “She watched Eddie die right in front of her. She got dragged into the Upside Down and came back with scars all over her body. She wakes up screaming, Steve. You’re the only thing that makes her feel safe.”
“I didn’t say she was the bad guy,” he snaps, voice cracking despite himself. “I’m just sayin’ I’m overwhelmed. She’s so clingy, Robin. You saw her tonight. She didn’t wanna leave without me. I had to practically beg her to go first.”
Your vision blurs. You press a hand to your mouth, swallowing hard.
“It’s like I gotta make up excuses just to be alone,” he admits, quieter now, stripped bare. “I need space. I need to breathe. And I can’t say that without soundin’ like a heartless asshole because yeah, she’s traumatized, and then suddenly I’m the villain for wantin’ five goddamn minutes to myself.”
Robin scoffs, pushing off the counter. “Steve, you idiot. You said it yourself. Your girlfriend is traumatized.”
“Yeah,” he shoots back, voice rising, “but how the hell do I tell my traumatized girlfriend to back off without destroyin’ her. How do I say ‘hey, I love you, but you’re smotherin’ me,’ and not absolutely fuck her up more than she already is.”
“You don’t call her clingy,” Robin says immediately. “For starters. That word is banned and most girls, including Vickie, hate it.”
Steve lets out a short, bitter laugh. “Well, she is.”
Robin gasps dramatically, clutching her chest. “Oh nooo,” she mocks, voice high and obnoxious. “I’m Steve Harrington and my girlfriend loves me so much. Oh noooo, she feels safe with me. My life is helllll.”
“Shut up,” Steve mutters, shoving her shoulder.
“Oww, you asshole!” Robin shoots back, swatting him in return, then sobers as she gets all serious again. “You’re not wrong for being tired. You are wrong for talking about her like she’s a burden.”
Steve goes still. “I don’t think she’s a burden,” he says quietly, and this time it sounds like the truth. “I just… I don’t wanna be the only thing keepin’ her together. What happens if I fuck up? What happens if I leave?”
Robin sighs. “Then you talk to her. You communicate, dingus.”
You step back before they can see you, heart pounding, every word replaying in your head on a brutal loop. Suffocating. Clingy. Everywhere.
You don’t grab your coat when you leave.
You don’t even realize you’re driving until you’re already halfway home, knuckles white on the steering wheel as every memory crashes into you at once. Begging him to stay while you showered because you were convinced something would crawl out of the drain. Nights you woke up screaming, clinging to his shirt like it was the only safe place left in the world. Training days for the crawl where you stuck close, too afraid to be alone, grateful when you were paired with him again.
You could see it all, every single little thing you had leaned on him for, flashing through your mind like some god-awful horror slideshow.
Steve’s words had been like a bucket of ice water dumped on you, shocking you into clarity whether you wanted it or not.
Maybe you had been too sensitive. Maybe you had been unbearable. Maybe you had been so clingy that it wasn’t fair for him, and maybe you needed to let go, at least a little.
It wasn’t as if you had been the only one stuck in the Upside Down. Will had survived a week in that hell, seen things that should have ripped him apart, and yet he had come back and carried himself with a strength you couldn’t even muster.
Dustin had lost Eddie too, but he hadn’t latched onto anyone, hadn’t made himself a burden. Eleven had been tortured, exploited, experimented on, broken in ways that should have left her crushed, and yet she still managed to find herself amidst everything, to stand and breathe and continue on.
And here you were, the only one who seemed incapable of moving past it, of finding even a fragment of independence, still tethered to Steve as if without him you would fall apart.
Somehow, without realizing it, you had arrived at your shared home with Steve, parked your car in the driveway, and walked inside on autopilot, your body carrying you through familiar motions while your mind carried the full weight of guilt, shame, and heartbreak.
You stripped off your clothes in the bathroom, letting the water hit your skin in a rhythm you used to find comfort in, and prepared some dinner. You heated up leftovers, the smell of food filling the kitchen like it always had, but this time there was no laughter, no shared commentary on who had eaten what, no teasing Steve about his obsession with ketchup.
By the time Steve arrived, the house was quiet. You were already in bed, tucked under the covers, something you hadn’t done alone in months because for months you hadn’t slept unless his arms were wrapped around you.
But tonight, the house felt empty, and he found himself standing in the kitchen, fork in hand, staring at the warm meal you had prepared for him, and realizing that for the first time in an eternity, you weren’t waiting for him.
The next morning only deepened the silence. Steve woke to an empty bed, the sunlight spilling across rumpled sheets that smelled faintly of your perfume, and felt a prickling, cold panic he couldn’t name at first.
You were already dressed, shoes on, ready to leave.
“Where are you heading?” he asked, voice rough.
“Going to get some stuff from the store,” you replied dryly.
“Want me to come with you, sweetheart?” His words carried that familiar gentleness, but you couldn’t look past it without feeling like a burden.
“No,” you said simply.
It was such a small, simple word. It shouldn’t feel like this. Except it made Steve sit in bed alone, blood running cold, realizing far too late that you were beginning to avoid him.
You leave early and don’t come back until the sky is already dimming, the house dark except for the kitchen light that Steve has turned on and off three times now like it might summon you home faster.
By the time you unlock the front door, he has been pacing a groove into the living room carpet, heart in his throat, mind running through every worst case scenario he promised himself he wouldn’t think about anymore. The second the lock clicks and the door opens, he’s there, crowding your space before you can even hang up your coat.
“Where the hell were you?!” he blurts, voice tight and frantic, eyes scanning you like he’s checking for blood. “You’ve been outta the house for nearly six hours. Six. I was losin’ my goddamn mind. I thought somethin’ happened to you.”
You sigh, slow and tired, and for a split second when you really look at him, at the pure unfiltered worry etched into his face, you almost break.
Almost step into his arms, almost let yourself melt into him and admit how badly you missed him, how those six hours felt like six days without his voice or his hands or the steady reassurance of his presence.
If six hours did this to him, then the space you were forcing had been tearing you apart twice as badly.
But then your brain betrays you, replays his words in his voice, clingy, suffocating, always there, and you harden.
“I was out, Steve,” you say quietly.
“Yeah, no shit,” he fires back, following you as you walk toward the kitchen. “Out where?”
You open the fridge, more for something to do than because you’re hungry, and shrug. “With Nancy. We hung out and I accidentally lost track of time.”
The tension drains out of him immediately, shoulders sagging in relief. “Jesus,” he breathes. “Why didn’t you tell me, huh? I was freakin’ out. Is everything okay? Did somethin’ happen?”
You shake your head. “No, nothing happened, don’t worry.”
He nods quickly, like he’s trying not to push. “Okay. Okay. I won’t pry.” He hesitates, then softens. “Hey, I was thinkin’ dinner. You want lasagna or pizza?”
“I’m not hungry,” you say, already turning away. “I’m gonna go sleep, okay.”
He frowns. “But I thought we could just hang out a little, I mean we barely saw each other toda—”
“Maybe another time, alright? Goodnight, Steve.”
He exhales, defeated. “Goodnight,” he says softly. “I love you.”
You pause just long enough to whisper it back before disappearing down the hall. “I love you too,”
The days after are worse.
Steve wakes up and barely gets a word in before you’re already pulling on shoes, mumbling something about a jog. If he waits, you need a shower. If he waits longer, you’re late to see your nana.
If he suggests the Squawk, you’re already going with Nancy. It’s like every time he reaches out, you slip through his fingers a little more, like trying to grasp smoke.
Not long ago, you haunted him with your presence. You were everywhere, constant, inescapable, but now you ghost him with your absence. He doesn’t know where you go or what you do, only that the house feels emptier even when you’re technically still there.
That’s how he ends up sitting on the edge of the bed tonight, waiting for the bathroom door to open, heart pounding like he’s bracing for bad news. When you finally step out, hair damp, towel slung over your shoulder, he looks up like he’s been holding his breath.
“Hey, sweetheart,” he says gently, like he’s testing the word to see if it still belongs to him.
You glance at him in the mirror and give him a small, careful smile. “Hi, Steve.”
He lingers there for a second, then steps closer, hands hovering before he settles them lightly at your waist, afraid you might flinch. He leans down and presses a kiss to your collarbone.
“I missed you,” he murmurs. “You’ve been out all day. Didn’t even see you at the Squawk.”
Your body betrays you before your mouth does, a shiver running through you at the sound of his voice, the warmth of him behind you. For a heartbeat you let yourself feel it, the pull, the ache. Then you pull away, just enough to break the contact, reaching for your hairbrush like it’s a shield.
“Yeah,” you say lightly. “Nancy asked me to go shopping with her again.”
“Oh.” He straightens, nodding, trying to keep his tone easy. “Was it fun? I figured you’d come back with, like, ten bags or somethin’.”
You shrug, brushing through damp hair. “Didn’t need anything.”
He watches you in the mirror, the way you won’t quite look at him, the way your answers land flat and stop short. He clears his throat as heshifts his weight.
He hesitates, then clears his throat, trying again, voice low and careful. “Uh. We trained today. Me, Hopper, and El. She shaved her time down again.”
You pause only briefly, tugging at your hair with the brush.
“Thirty-three seconds,” he continues, a little brighter despite himself. “Last week it was thirty-six. She’s pissed about it too, which I guess is good. Means she knows she can do better.”
“That’s good,” you say quietly.
He nods, even though you’re not looking at him. “Yeah. She’s gettin’ scary strong again. In a good way.”
“Mhm.”
Steve frowns. He leans back on his hands, searching your face even though you’re facing away now. “We could all hang out this weekend. Just us, or maybe the kids too. Whatever you want. Thought it might be nice.”
“I’m actually quite tired,” you say quietly.
“Okay,” he says quickly. “Yeah. That’s fine. We don’t have to do anything big.” He pauses, then softly asks. “Hey. Are you okay? Like, really okay?”
You swallow. “I’m fine, Steve.”
There’s a beat of silence where he clearly wants to say more as his mouth opens and closes like he’s rearranging words that never come out right.
He tries again, desperate now. “Did I do somethin’? Because if I did, I swear I’m not tryin’ to mess this up. I just need you to talk to me, okay.”
Your chest tightens. You squeeze your eyes shut.
“Steve,” you say softly, cutting him off before he can dig himself deeper, “can you turn off the light, please?”
He gets the hint; you don’t want to talk.
He freezes for a second, then nods once. “Yeah. Yeah, of course.”
He stands, reaches for the lamp, and the room falls into darkness. He lingers there for a moment longer, like he’s hoping you’ll turn back around, say his name, give him something to hold onto.
You don’t.
“Night,” he says quietly.
“Night,” you reply, barely audible.
He lies down beside you, careful not to touch, staring up at the ceiling with the awful, sinking realization that this is what losing you looks like..
As the days passed, then quietly turned into weeks, you built a new routine that did not include Steve in it at all. It happened slowly enough that it almost felt reasonable at first.
You learned how to time your mornings so you were out the door before he woke up, learned how to come home late enough that conversation felt unnecessary, learned how to smile just enough to keep him from asking questions that you did not have the strength to answer.
Avoiding him became second nature. Lying became easy.
You spent most of your days outside, anywhere that was not the house and not around him. Sometimes you sat beside your nana’s hospital bed for hours, holding her hand and watching the rise and fall of her chest just to remind yourself that people stayed alive even when everything went wrong.
Other days you walked until your legs ached, wandering neighborhoods you barely recognized, letting exhaustion drown out thought. Occasionally you called a friend, anyone who would answer, and let the hours blur together in cafes and parking lots and friendly conversations that never went anywhere deep enough to hurt.
It got to the point where you could not remember the last time you had kissed him without forcing yourself to think about it, and when you did, the number made your stomach twist. Four days. Four whole days since his mouth had been on yours, since his hands had found your waist without asking, since you had slept tangled together instead of inches apart.
There was a time when five minutes apart felt unbearable, when you haunted each other in hallways and kitchens and doorways, hands always reaching, always searching.
You grew used to the distance.
Steve though, did not.
His patience thinned in ways that showed. It did not help that things with Dustin were already strained. Steve started snapping again and retreating into old habits he thought he had outgrown.
He tried to pull himself back every time he felt it happening, tried to reach for you like he always had.
And every time he did, you stepped further away.
That was how he found himself one late afternoon sitting on the couch, elbows braced on his knees, staring at the front door.
You had been gone all day again, supposedly with Nancy, doing whatever it was you told him you were doing now.
Steve knew you were close to her, knew you trusted her, but not to the point where you would spend hours every other day together. Still, he told himself not to judge. Girls were odd in their friendships, and he did not want to be the guy who questioned everything.
But his mind would not shut up.
Every instinct in him was screaming that something was wrong, that he needed to do something instead of sitting there waiting. He was snapped out of his thoughts when the doorbell rang.
Steve was on his feet instantly, relief and fear colliding in his chest as he rushed to the door. He yanked it open, already ready to say your name.
Instead, Nancy Wheeler stood there.
For a split second, his brain refused to process it. Then panic slammed into him so hard it stole the air from his lungs. If you were supposed to be with Nancy, then why is she standing here alone?
“Where is she?” he blurted out, voice sharp and scared. “Is she okay? What happened?”
Nancy blinked in shock at his reaction, taking in the way his shoulders were tight, the way his hands were already shaking like he’d been holding himself together by sheer force of will. “Whoa, Steve, hey,” she said quickly. “Slow down. What’s going on?”
“What,” he shot back, breath uneven, eyes already scanning the driveway behind her like you might suddenly appear. “Where’s she? Why are you here without her, Nancy?”
Nancy frowned. “Without who?”
“Y/N,” he snapped, panic bleeding into anger because fear always did that to him. “I’m talking about Y/N.”
Her expression shifted immediately. “Yeah,” she said slowly, “that’s actually why I’m here. I haven’t heard from her in weeks. I just wanted to check in.”
The words hit him like a punch straight to the chest.
“What do you mean you haven’t heard from her?” he said, quieter now, like saying it louder might make it real. “You were literally together today?”
Nancy let out a short, incredulous laugh. “Steve, no. I’ve been with Jonathan all day. He’s waiting in the car right now. I just stopped by because I was worried about her.”
The color drained from his face so fast it scared her.
“Steve,” she said carefully, stepping closer, “you’re freaking me out. What’s going on?”
He swallowed hard, throat tight like it was closing in on itself. “She’s been telling me she’s with you,” he said. “Every time she’s gone. She says she’s with you.”
Nancy stared at him. “Why would she lie about that?”
“I don’t know,” he said, voice cracking despite how hard he tried to keep it together. “That’s the thing, Nance, I don’t know. One day she was everywhere. Everywhere. I couldn’t turn around without her being there, couldn’t breathe without feelin’ her next to me, and then suddenly it’s like she vanished. We didn’t fight. I–i didn't do anything. At least not that I remember.”
Nancy sighed, rubbing her forehead, her tone firm but not unkind. “Steve. You don’t just wake up one day like that. Something must've happened.”
“No, no, no” he said immediately, shaking his head. “No, I would know. I would remember if I fucked up that bad.”
“And you didn’t think to ask her?” Nancy pressed.
“I did,” he snapped. “I tried. Every time I tried she’d shut it down, say she was tired or busy or fine. What the hell was I supposed to do, corner her?”
“She was clingy, okay. I’ll say it. I couldn’t go anywhere without her, couldn’t get a second alone, and then suddenly it’s like she was gone.”
Nancy’s head snapped up. “Don’t,” she said sharply.
“What?” he shot back.
“You do not call her clingy, Steve!” Nancy said, anger flaring now. “You don’t get to use that word with Y/N out of all people!”
He bristled. “Oh come on, Nancy. I didn’t mean it like that.”
“Yeah, you did,” she said. “And even if you didn’t, it doesn’t matter. In case you’ve forgotten, Harrington, we’re all wrapped up in this upside down bullshit because we have to be. I do it because of Mike and Barb. You do it because of Dustin. Guess what? She doesn’t have to be involved in it!”
Steve opened his mouth, then stopped.
“That girl is fucking traumatized, and she went through that shit because you dragged her into it!” Nancy continued, voice steady but fierce.
“She nearly died. She was attacked by monsters that shouldn’t exist. She watched Eddie die just like the rest of us, and she doesn’t get to talk about it with anyone outside this circle. She can’t go to her friends or her family and say, ‘hey, I got slimed by an interdimensional monster and almost got ripped apart.’ The only person she feels safe enough to lean on is you!”
His jaw tightened, guilt creeping in through the cracks.
“So yeah,” Nancy went on, “maybe she leaned too hard or she didn’t know how to be alone after that. But that doesn’t make her clingy, Steve. That makes her scared.”
He dragged a hand down his face. “I didn’t mean to hurt her.”
“I know,” Nancy said. “But intent doesn’t erase impact. Something you said or did made her feel like she was too much, like she was a burden, and instead of yelling or crying she did the only thing she could think to do. She disappeared.”
Steve let out a shaky breath. “She’s been lying to me, Nancy.”
“She’s protecting herself,” Nancy said. “You need to see things in her light”
Silence stretched between them, thick and heavy.
“So what,” he said finally, voice raw. “What if she’s just… done? What if she realized she doesn’t need me?”
Nancy softened then, stepping closer. “Steve. She needs you. She just doesn’t think she’s allowed to anymore. And that’s on you to fix.”
He looked at her, eyes glassy. “How?”
“You talk to her,” Nancy said simply. “Really talk. Don't accuse her or get defensive. Listen to her.”
She glanced back toward the driveway. “I’ll stop by tomorrow and check on her too, okay? But you can’t let this sit. Whatever’s going on, it’s clearly eating both of you alive.”
Steve nodded faintly, chest aching. “Yeah.”
Nancy opened the door, then paused. “And Steve.”
“Yeah?”
“Snap out of it,” she said firmly. “Before you lose her for real.”
With that, she left, heading back toward Jonathan’s car, while Steve stood alone in the doorway.
Ironically, barely ten minutes after Nancy and Jonathan pulled out of the driveway, you came home.
The house was dark. Too dark.
Your stomach dropped immediately, panic flaring hot and fast as you stepped inside, the door clicking shut behind you. No lights. No TV. No noise.
For a split second, every worst-case scenario you’d trained yourself not to think about came crashing in all at once.
“Steve?” you called out, voice tight.
Footsteps shuffled, and then he appeared in the doorway to the kitchen, lit only by the faint glow from the stove light.
“Hey,” he said, like nothing in the world was wrong.
You froze for half a beat. “Oh. Hi.”
There was something awkward in the air instantly, like you’d both stepped into the same room carrying entirely different weights. He leaned against the counter, trying to look casual.
“How was your day?” he asked.
You shrugged, slipping your shoes off. “It was… alright.”
His eyes drifted to the bag clutched in your hand, the crinkled plastic catching his attention. “What’s that?”
“Oh,” you said quickly, glancing down at it. “I stopped by the pharmacy to get the cream. For, uh… you know. The scarring.”
He nodded, softer now. “That’s good.”
Neither of you said anything else as you walked down the hall together. The bedroom felt smaller than usual as Steve sat on the edge of the bed while you set the bag down.
“Um,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck. “Do you want me to help you apply it?”
You hesitated for a second. Then you nodded and handed him the bag.
He unsealed the ointment while you slipped your shirt off and sat cross-legged on the floor, your back to him. You were suddenly acutely aware of every scar—deep, jagged reminders carved across your back and abdomen from the demogorgon attack. Old wounds, but never really gone.
Steve didn’t react the way you always feared people might. He never did.
His hands were warm as he scooped some of the cream, spreading it carefully across your skin gently. He worked it into your shoulders, thumbs pressing lightly as he massaged your shoulders.
You let yourself breathe.
He kept going until he was done, smoothing the last of it in with quiet focus. As you started to shift, ready to stand and pull your shirt back on, you felt it—
Two soft kisses. One pressed over each long scar crossing your back.
Your heart kicked hard against your ribs.
You stood quickly, sliding your shirt back on, suddenly unsure what to do with all the space between you. You were halfway to the door when his voice stopped you.
“Uhm, Y/n.”
You turned. “Yeah?”
He reached out, fingers wrapping gently around your hand, and tugged you a step closer. “Can we talk?”
He keeps hold of your hand when you hesitate.
“Talk about what?” you ask quietly.
Steve doesn’t answer right away. Instead, he steps closer, close enough that you can feel the heat of him, the familiar gravity that’s always pulled you in whether you wanted it to or not. His hand tightens around yours like he’s afraid you’ll disappear if he loosens his grip.
“I know I’ve been shitty,” he says again, like repeating it might finally make it land where it needs to. His voice is low and rough, scraped raw by guilt. “I know I’ve been so far away from you. I know you felt it. I saw it, even when I pretended I didn’t.” He swallows hard.
“And I know you’re going through things—things I can’t even fully understand—and I hate that instead of being the person you could come to, the person who made it easier, I—”
He cuts himself off with a sharp breath, hand lifting to his face like he can physically stop the words from spilling.
Your chest tightens so painfully it almost steals your breath.
“I panicked,” he rushes on, panic bleeding straight through his words now. “I didn’t know how to handle it. Knowing someone was dependent on me, really dependent on me, not just for rides or babysitting or stupid shit like that, but emotionally.” His voice wavers. “I thought I was gonna screw it up. Thought I already was screwing it up. And instead of dealing with that like an adult, I freaked out.”
He laughs once, sharp and broken. “God, I thought I needed space. I thought if I pulled back, things would calm down, that we’d both breathe easier. But fuck—” His voice cracks hard on the word. “This is so much worse. You being gone is so much worse than you being everywhere. I’d give anything to have you hovering around me again, asking if I’m okay, touching my arm, sittin’ too close on the couch.”
He steps closer, hands shaking as they come up to your sides.
“Please,” he whispers, forehead nearly brushing yours now, eyes glossy and wrecked. “Please, sweetheart. Don’t stop being dependent on me. Don’t stop needing me. Don’t stop loving me.”
Your breath stutters, a broken sound caught somewhere between your chest and your throat.
“I need you to need me,” he says, the words spilling faster, desperate and unfiltered. “I didn’t realize it until you pulled away, but I do. I need it. I need you. Because I can’t do this anymore. I can’t wake up every day wondering if you’re okay and knowing it’s my fault you don’t tell me.” His voice drops to a whisper.
“I can’t do this without you.”
That’s when you break.
The sob tears out of you violently, ripping through your chest like something finally gave way. Your knees nearly buckle as you fold into him, crying so hard your body shakes, hiccups jerking through each breath.
Steve reacts instantly, arms wrapping around you tight, crushing you to his chest like if he lets go you’ll disappear for real this time.
“I’m sorry,” he murmurs into your hair, voice breaking completely now. “I’m so sorry. Fuck—fuck, baby, don’t cry. Please don’t cry.”
His hand moves up and down your back in slow, steady motions, grounding and familiar, his chin pressing into your hair. You cry into his shirt until it’s damp, until your throat burns and your lungs ache and you feel wrung out and hollow.
Eventually, trembling, you pull back just enough to look at him.
“I heard you, Steve,” you say, the words tripping over themselves.
He freezes. “You… heard what?”
Your hands curl into fists at your sides, nails biting into your palms like you deserve the sting. “A few weeks ago. At the station. I left early and forgot my coat.” Your voice wobbles badly now. “I came back, and I heard you.”
The color drains from his face so fast it scares you.
“You were talking to Robin,” you continue, tears spilling again. “You said I was clingy. You said I was suffocating you.”
“Oh—no,” he breathes, panic exploding across his features. “No, no, no, baby, please—”
“I didn’t mean to be,” you sob. “I swear I didn’t. I wasn’t trying to trap you or make you feel stuck. I just—” Your breath breaks, the words barely making it out. “I only felt safe with you. And everyone else was doing okay. Everyone. And I wasn’t. I was falling apart and I didn’t know how to move on from everything that happened.”
You swallow hard, voice dropping to something small and raw. “And somewhere along the way, it started to feel like you weren’t loving me anymore.”
Your eyes lift to his, shining. “It felt like you were just… tolerating it. Tolerating me.”
Steve’s hands come up to cradle your face, thumbs brushing your tears away like each one physically hurts him.
“Baby,” he says fiercely, voice shaking as his arms tighten around you. “You can cling to me as tight as you want and as long as you want. I don’t ever want you to feel like you have to pull away to protect me.”
His voice drops, thick and aching, the words pressed straight into your hair. “I love you so much it hurts. I love you so much it scares me, and instead of owning that, I ran my mouth and said somethin’ stupid and careless. And I hate that it hurt you. I hate that I made you feel like you were too much when all you ever were was… you.”
He presses his forehead to yours, breath shaky. “You were never suffocating me. I was just scared of how much I needed you back.”
You search his face, eyes swollen, chest still hitching with quiet aftershocks of sobs. He looks wrecked and earnest and painfully open, like every wall he’s ever built has finally come down.
“It’s okay, Steve,” you whisper, even though the words wobble on the way out, even though they don’t quite feel solid yet.
He shakes his head immediately, curls bouncing with the movement. “It’s not. It’s really not.” His hands slide up your back, holding you close. “But we’re gonna fix it, okay? I will fix it. I promise. I don’t care how long it takes.”
His forehead presses against yours again, like he’s grounding himself. “Just… don’t pull away from me ever again.”
You nod, slow but sure, arms wrapping around him fully now as you bury your face into his chest. He holds you like he means it this time, rocking you gently, big hands warm and steady like they’re reminding you that he’s real, that he’s here.
You breathe him in.
And then—
Grrrgrgrgrgrgr.
You freeze for half a second.
Then you pull back just enough to look up at him, eyes still wet, face scrunched, and you burst out laughing—broken, hiccupy laughter that comes out of you mid-cry.
“Are you—” you sniff, laughing harder, “—are you hungry?”
Steve’s face goes bright red.
“I—” he stammers, mortified. “I was gonna wait for you to come back, okay? I didn’t wanna eat without you.”
That just makes you laugh more. You press your face back into his chest, shoulders shaking, and he lets out a breathy laugh too, embarrassed but relieved, his arms tightening around you again.
“God,” he mutters. “Timing, huh.”
You tilt your head up and kiss him. He kisses you back immediately, like he’s been starving for it just as much as food. When you pull away, barely an inch, he leans in again and kisses you harder this time and deeper, pouring everything unsaid into it.
He breaks the kiss with a breathless laugh, forehead resting against yours. “Missed kissing you.”
You smile. “Me too.”
He exhales, then straightens suddenly like he’s had an epiphany. “You know what?”
“What?” you ask.
“I am starving,” he says, dead serious. “And I’m pretty sure you are too.”
You blink. “Steve—”
“Come on,” he says, already grabbing your hand and tugging you gently toward the door. “Grab a coat.”
“Wait,” you laugh, stumbling after him. “Where are we even going?”
He grins over his shoulder, that familiar boyish smile you fell in love with. “Enzo’s.”
Your eyes widen. “What? No, Steve, that place is expensive. And you need a reservation and— I can just heat something up, it’s fine—”
“Nope,” he cuts in immediately. “Absolutely not.”
“Steve—”
“I gotta spend the next year or so making it up to you,” he says, squeezing your hand. “Minimum.”
You gape at him. “But—”
“Too late,” he says cheerfully, already opening the door.
You stumble as he leads you out to the car, the night air cool against your skin. He opens your door for you like always, and excitedly smiles at you. As the engine starts and the house disappears in the rearview mirror, you lean back in your seat, heart full and sore and warm all at once.
Deep down, you know it again: Steve will stay by your side. He’ll wait while you heal. He’ll hold you steady until you’re strong enough to take steps on your own.
And Steve knows, wholeheartedly, that he’ll be the one clinging to you just as tightly. Because you’re the only one he’s ever loved enough to spill his heart to.
And, apparently, spend three hundred and ninety dollars on at some fancy restaurant without even blinking.
summary: after being convinced by your best friend, Vickie, to travel to the WSQK station on a snowy Christmas Eve night, you find ways to keep yourself warm in the company of another
cw: smut, big dick Steve, takes place between s4-s5, s5 compliant, one bed trope, drinking
wc: 12K
dividers by @strangergraphics
The sounds of “Please Come Home for Christmas” by the Eagles flow from the speakers of your car as you drive through the snowy streets of Hawkins. Vickie sang along with the slow song while you did your best to see through the flurry of snowflakes that made you look like you were driving at warp speed, when in reality you were probably going 15 under, making the 20 minute drive across town closer to half an hour.
You told Vickie she was crazy for wanting to make the trip to the station during a snow storm, let alone one on Christmas Eve. But she convinced you that she was going to make a move on Robin tonight, and how could you turn your friend down when she was potentially going to be making the move of a lifetime with a girl she’s had a crush on since junior year?
“Do you think she’s going to like the cookies?” Vickie asks, uncertainty in her tone.
”Of course she will,” you say in reassurance, making a turn down the long dirt path that led to the radio station. “Who wouldn’t love home made Christmas cookies from a cutie like you?”
“But do they come across as a loving gesture, or just as a friend?”
”Would any friend risk theirs and their best friends' necks in a snow storm just to bring a “friend” cookies?” You ask with a sly smirk.
”Ugh, but Robin, she’s just so—“
”Clueless?”
”Yeah,” Vickie says with a sigh.
”I think she’s got a lot going on,” you try to explain, “What with the big radio station job and the military breathing down their necks to promote compliance and all.”
”You’re right, you’re right,” she says, slumping back in her seat. “I just—I don’t want to mess anything up. This isn’t like dating Anthony or some other guy. I’m really putting myself out there if I guess this wrong. And even if she doesn’t like me back but she’s cool with me liking girls, I don’t want to ruin our friendship either. Ugh, it’s just so complicated.”
Pulling up next to the WSQK van, illuminated by the glow of the matching sign on the big building, you throw the car in park and turn to look at Vickie.
”Listen, if everything you’ve told me is true, I’m, like, 99% sure that Robin is totally into you and, if you really think about it, probably going through the same mental gymnastics you are.” You put your hand on her shoulder and look her dead in the eye.
“So, tonight, you’re going to go in there, give her your cookies, tell her you made them especially for her, give her a little smile, and watch her melt at the gesture. Then, you’re gonna find an excuse to get the two of you alone, you’re gonna sit her down, look her in the eyes all dreamy like, and—BAM!” Vickie jumps at your sudden outburst and starts to laugh. “You’re gonna lean in and give her a smooch smoochy—“
”God, please don’t call it that!” Vickie groans, throwing her hands up in defeat.
”Awe c’mon! It’s so easy you just gotta—“ You lean in and pretend to kiss the air around Vickie and she busts out laughing, pushing you away from her.
”Well what about you?” She says once the two of you have gotten over your giggle fit and caught your breath.
”I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you say with a look of faux innocence. She squints her eyes at you and you can tell she’s not hearing your shit tonight.
”What about you and Steeeeve?” She draws his name out in an ooey gooey sing songy tone that makes you shake your head at her.
“What about him?” You say, turning away from her and crossing your arms for extra show.
”Oh, don’t act like I haven’t seen you looking at him when we all hang out,” she says, giving you a light, playful shove.
”Well, who am I supposed to be looking at when you and Robin are giving each other goo-goo eyes? I’m just glad they come in a pair so I have someone to entertain me.”
”I’m sure you’d like him to entertain you,” she says with a brow wiggle. “Don’t think I forgot about how upset you were when he started dating Nancy Wheeler sophomore year.”
”Me and half of the Hawkins high school population! Guys included!” You say in defense of yourself.
”Yeah, but you forget that we’re best friends and your feelings for him went way beyond a crush. And I think, deep down, there’s a little something still there for good ol’ King Steve,” she says, poking you in the arm with her finger.
And, hey, maybe she’s on to something. What you once thought was a deeply buried liking towards popular boy Steve Harrington has definitely been resurfacing as of the last couple of months. No thanks to Vickie and Robin’s budding…situation that they have going on. That and the weird codependency that Steve and Robin seem to have that led you to believe they were dating at first, which Robin cleared up by stating they are platonic with a capital ‘P.’
Regardless of all of that, the whole situation has given way to you and Steve spending a lot of time together over the last 9 months. To say he’s changed since high school is an understatement, but the change you’d say was definitely for the better. Sure, his airhead qualities were still there, but he wasn’t the same douchey jock you first fell for at 15 years old. No, he was respectful, more mature, caring, and a bunch of other positive descriptor words you could pull from a thesaurus.
He also looked somehow even hotter than before. More grown, more…manly. (Yeah, you caught those chest hairs peaking out of his shirts over the summer) That swimmer's body has gotten bigger, more muscular, and you certainly were not complaining.
But the thing that was getting you the most was that he was just…kind. Not to mention he can hold a conversation; he listens when you talk. Like, actually listens! And responds appropriately! What man actually does that?
Is he a flirt? Sure, but you don’t mind. It just feeds into your delusion that he might actually like you back. Which, you’re sure he doesn’t. He surely would have made an actual move on you by now if he did, right?
”It’s not like that, Vick,” you say, cutting the engine and effectively forcing the conversation to end before she can grill you any further.
”Oh, come on,” she says as she climbs out of the car, tin of cookies in hand.
”We’re here for you tonight, not me.”
“Ugh, fine. But this conversation isn’t over,” she says, pointing at you.
You trudge through the snow to her side of the car and link arms with her, the two of you stomping in your boots all the way up the stairs of the radio station.
Two two of you quietly make your way into the heart of the building, stopping when the small sound booth comes into sight, the ‘On Air’ light glowing brightly from the outside. Inside the booth you could see Robin talking on the mic while Steve whizzed around playing sound effects for her. It was a sight to behold, those two in their element like this.
“Hopefully that last melody warmed all of you cold folks up on this blustery night. Don’t forget to add another log to your fire, as we’re getting into some low, low temps tonight. Six inches of snow, can you believe it, folks?”
Steve plays a “womp womp” sound effect and you can’t help but giggle at his comedic timing.
”And as you all know, Rockin’ Robin and co will be here to celebrate the holiday with you all well into this evening, making sure you have the holliest, jolliest Christmas Eve while you wait up for Santa tonight. Hopefully he makes it through those military check points—“ Steve follows this up with a classic ‘ho ho ho’ sound. “But even if he can’t make it down your chimney tonight, just know we’ll be here with the gift of music for your listening pleasure.”
Robin looks up from where she was speaking into the mic, finally noticing you and Vickie. Vickie holds up her tin of cookies, and Robin gives you both a thumbs up.
”Speaking of gifts, it looks like two little elves have entered the studio with some very nice gifts for your hosts tonight. So, I’ll be sending you off to some Wham! to start off the hour right…”
”Last Christmas” starts to fade into play and the On Air light turns off, signaling that Robin’s mic was off. Robin and Steve pull off their headphones and hastily exit the booth to greet the two of you.
”Hey, what are you guys doing here?” Robin asks, excitedly.
”Yeah, isn’t there a snow storm going on?” Steve asks, looking out the windows with a squint.
”Yes, but,” you say, looking at Vickie directly, “someone wanted to make sure you guys weren’t lonely on Christmas Eve. Someone who also can’t see well at night and who needed someone to drive her out here.”
Vickie shrugs, “Guilty.” She then presents the tin in her hands to Robin, opening it to reveal the cookies that resided inside. “I made these for you.”
Robin looks at the tin in complete shock, taking it gently from Vickie’s hands and examining its contents carefully. “You made these for me?” She asks, a huge smile on her face. Vickie is cheesing so hard at Robin’s reaction and you can’t help but internally celebrate for your best friend.
”Well, I mean, I made them for us,” Vickie suddenly stutters, backtracking what she said. You want to scream at her, tell her not to take back what she said, but you have to just stand there and watch your best friend lose that little bit of progress she made in that moment.
“Oh,” Robin’s excitement fades when she looks over at you and Steve, and she gives Vickie a tight lipped smile. “Right, of course.”
”She made them because of you though,” you blurt out. Vickie’s eyes go wide at your comment, and Robin looks at you with a shocked look on her face. “Remember, Vickie? You said Robin said Christmas cookies were her favorite cookies and that she wished that she could have Christmas cookies all year round, but that wouldn’t make them Christmas cookies anymore—“
Vickie says your name in a desperate attempt to get you to stop talking, and you instantly shut up as you realize your error. You hear a muffled laugh and look over to Steve, who has his face covered by his hand as he shakes his head, clearly trying to hold it together to not make the situation worse.
Robin, however, is looking at Vickie with a sparkle in her eyes.
”You remembered me saying that?” She says, totally unbothered by your rambling.
”Oh, yeah, I guess I did,” Vickie says shyly, side eyeing you.
Taking a cookie out of the tin, Robin bites into it and instantly melts. “Oh my god, this is, like, so good,” she says while she chews. “It’s the most Christmas tasting Christmas cookie I’ve ever had.”
”Really?” Vickie asks, perking up at the compliment. “They’re my grandma’s recipe.”
”Yes, are you kidding me? So good.” You can see Vickie blushing at Robin’s compliment and you finally feel like you can let out the breath you were holding.
”Well, let me have one,” Steve says, trying to stick his hand into the cookie tin.
”Hold your horses, Harrington, you don’t appreciate Christmas cookies like I do,” Robin says, pulling the tin from his reach.
”What? I never said I didn’t like Christmas cookies?” Steve says, looking at Robin like she’s got 3 heads.
”Oh, can I have one?” You ask, moving to stand next to Steve.
”Of course,” Robin says, placing the tin in front of you. Steve lets out a hey! as you take two cookies out of the tin in front of him, Robin pulling the tin away again once you’ve gotten your spoils.
Just as Steve’s about to throw a fit, you tap his shoulder to get his attention. He turns enough to face you before going wide eyed as you shove a Christmas cookie into his mouth, fully catching him off guard. Robin and Vickie both burst out laughing at the sight of Steve with a Christmas tree shaped sugar cookie sticking out of his mouth.
”There’s your cookie, Stevie,” you say, giving him a teasing grin. He looks at you dumbfounded for a moment, until his demeanor suddenly shifts to a more devious one. He pulls the Christmas tree cookie out of his mouth and looks at you, then looks at the cookie in your other hand.
”Steve,” you say slowly, but he just gives you this devilish look that tells you he’s up to no good. Suddenly, he lunges toward the cookie, but you move out of the way just in time that he misses. You let out a squeal when he goes for it again, almost running into you with his whole body as he trips up his movements. You take this as an opportunity to run, taking off out of the room and into the hallway of the station.
This is perfect, you think to yourself, If you can distract Steve long enough, maybe Vickie will have a chance to make a move on Robin.
You look back to see if Steve was following you and, oh god he’s booking it towards you. “Shit!” You squeal, turning left down the hall and taking off, Steve hot on your heels. “Steve, I’m sorry!” You yell as you make a turn down another hall, not entirely sure where you’re going.
”C’mere, I just wanna share the Christmas spirit!” Steve yells as he slides past the opening of the hall, back tracking to take off after you. Your heart was beating at a million miles a minute and you couldn’t help the little giggles that came with the adrenaline of being chased.
You ran until you got to a dead end, looking around for somewhere to go, but to no avail. Before you could think of another plan, two big arms were wrapping around you and holding you in place.
“Steve, no please, I’m sorry!” You plead desperately, still laughing at the whole situation.
“Awe, but you were so generous with me,” Steve says, his voice right in your ear as he pulls you against him. “I just wanna return the favor!”
”Nooooooo!” You shout, writhing against Steve’s grip on you. Steve suddenly freezes, and you stop your movements as well, unsure of what is happening.
“Alright, alright,” Steve says, letting go and backing away from you. You straighten up your jacket and turn around to face him. He has an unreadable expression on his face, and you worry that you might have offended him somehow.
Steve suddenly clears his throat, and points his thumb over his shoulder, looking at anything but you. “We should, uh, probably get back in there. Gotta check the tapes to make sure everything’s playing like it’s supposed to.”
”Oh, yeah, sure thing you say,” giving him a smile. He nods and moves out of the way, motioning for you to go ahead of him. You oblige and take the lead with him trailing not far behind. It's a bit awkward on the way back to the booth room, neither of you really saying anything as you walk through the halls of the station.
As you make it back to where you left your friends behind, you immediately pump the breaks just outside the doorway upon seeing the sight before you. Just on the other side of the room, underneath a mistletoe, Robin and Vickie are sharing a very passionate kiss. In the moment, you want to jump for joy, excited for your friend for getting the girl. You couldn’t wait to get all the juicy details from her later about how it came to be.
But, in all of your excitement, you forgot that you weren’t alone in the hallway.
”What’s the hold up?” Steve asks, closing in behind you.
”Wait! Steve, I—“ Your hands collide with his chest and stop him from moving any further. He quirks a brow at you in confusion and you wrack your brain for an excuse as to why you cannot allow him to do his job.
”Wine!” You shout, only confusing Steve more. “I left wine out in my car! You should go with me to get it. Y’know, just in case. The buddy system and all that.”
Steve looks at you with skepticism, but eventually nods in agreement, making you sigh with relief. “Let me get my coat,” he says, about to push around you, but you stop him in his tracks.
”Wait, you don’t need it. It’ll be quick!” You try to persuade him.
”There’s a literal snow storm outside,” he says, and you start to panic.
“C’mon,” you say, grabbing his hand and pulling him towards the front of the building. You drag him behind you as he tries to protest, but he doesn’t pull away, letting you guide him all the way to the front doors.
”Just, um, stand close to me,” you say, grabbing his arm and holding him against your side, as if that would keep him warm. If he wants to tell you no, he doesn’t let it be known as he willingly follows you out the doors into the snow.
”Holy shit,” he shivers once his body hits the cold air, and you immediately feel bad for putting him through this. But you can’t risk leaving him inside, so he will just have to suffer with you.
Not wanting to drag it out for too long, you both fast walk to your car where you quickly open the back door and reach down under the seats for the bottles of wine.
“Here this will warm you up,” you say, handing Steve the bottle of moscato. He takes the bottle and looks at it for a moment, eyes darting to you briefly before unscrewing the top of the gas station wine and chugging. “Jesus Christ, Harrington,” you laugh as you watch him down a whole glass worth in front of you. When he pulls the bottle away from his mouth, his lips are stained red where the wine had touched them. “You good?” You ask him, and he nods, offering the bottle to you. You look at the bottle and he shakes it in front of you.
”I don’t have cooties, I promise.”
You take the bottle from him and bring the opening to your lips. You give him one last look before tilting the bottle back, taking a few big gulps before tapping out. You scrunch up your nose at the bitter sweet taste, sticking your tongue out to display your distaste.
”Why’d you get such cheap wine?” Steve asks, taking the other bottle from your hand and looking at the label.
”I stole it from my parents, so I didn’t really get much of a choice.”
”Couldn’t have snagged the good stuff at least?” He says with a tsk.
”Hey they weren’t gonna notice this shit was gone and it was better than nothing,” you shrug, closing the door to your car.
“I guess beggars can’t be choosers,” Steve says, a shiver taking over his body as he spoke. You look at the building and think that surely Robin and Vickie must be done swapping spit by now. And if they weren’t, well, they’d have to be because Steve wasn’t going to survive much longer out here.
”Okay, let’s go before you develop hypothermia,” you say, linking arms with him once more.
The two of you jogged through the snow, giggling as you almost slipped on ice, Steve catching you before you ate shit in front of him.
“Shit, are you okay?” He asks, holding on to you firmly.
You giggle, wrapping your arms around his neck tightly, “Yeah, thanks.”
He slowly pulls you right side up, but doesn’t immediately let go, his arms around your body while yours remain around his.
You can see the pink tint to his cheeks under the lights from the building. Whether that be from the cold, the alcohol, or something else, you can’t really say. As you continue to scan his features, you land on his beautiful hazel eyes as they’re boring down into yours. You can feel heat rising to your cheeks under his intense gaze, your heart beginning to pick up in pace.
After what felt like forever, Steve’s eyes suddenly glance downward, landing on your lips in a movement so quick you’d have missed it if you weren’t paying such close attention to his every move. When his eyes meet yours again, you can sense that he’s trying to speak to you through them, seeking you for permission without speaking the words out loud. So you answer in the same way; by closing your eyes and leaning in, waiting for him to close the gap.
”There you two dingus’s are!”
You don’t think you’ve ever moved so fast in your life than in this very moment. One second you were wrapped in Steve’s tight embrace, the next the two of you were five feet away from each other. The look on Steve’s face must have matched yours, eyes wide and mouth agape in shock.
”Steve, where the hell is your jacket?” Robin asks, “It’s like negative two degrees out here!”
”Yeah, yeah, I’m coming,” he says, eyes lingering on you until the last second before trotting his way to the building.
You hang back for a moment, watching him go through the doors with Robin ushering him inside. ”Did we interrupt something?” Vickie asks, looking at you with a suspicious glint.
”No,” you say quickly, looking at her unconvincingly. “We almost interrupted you two, though.” Vickie’s eyes go wide, and you can see her pale cheeks go red even from the distance between you two.
”You saw?” She asks bashfully, and you confirm it with a nod.
The two of you look at each other for a moment before you take off after her, grabbing her in a hug and jumping up and down excitedly.
“You don’t have to tell me now, but I want all the details later, got it?”
”Yes, of course!” She squeals, and hugs you again, rocking you back and forth.
”Okay, as happy for you as I am, I’m freezing my ass off out here. Can we go inside now?” Vickie lets go of you and pulls the door open for you. You rush inside, whole body shivering as you adjust to the drastic change in temperature.
When the two of you get back to the sound booth, you see Robin and Steve are both inside doing…something you suppose is important. The On Air sign is still off, but you and Vickie remain idle outside the booth just in case. But it doesn’t take long for Robin to notice you, waving for the two of you to come inside. Vickie looks and you and you shrug, the two of you hurrying to join them.
”Welcome to the booth ladies,” Robin says, gesturing around her, “Take a look around, get familiar with the place. I see you’ve brought more gifts.” You look at the wine bottle in your hand and hold it close to your chest.
”Actually, Steve and I already got our germs on this one.” You point to the bottle sitting on the table next to Steve, “That one is all yours.”
”Perfect,” Robin says, giving Steve grabby hands until he passes her the bottle. She unscrews the lid and takes a long swig of the white liquid. When she’s done, she extends the bottle towards Vickie. “Care to share?” She asks with a smirk.
Vickie looks a bit astonished at Robin’s bold gesture, eyes glancing over to Steve to see his reaction to her offer. But when he seems completely unbothered by whatever implications may be made from this situation, Vickie grabs the bottle from Robin and brings the opening to her lips. She hesitates for a moment before tipping the bottle back and taking a long sip of her own.
While this is happening, you sneak a side glance to check Steve’s reaction. But you see that his back is turned to the three of you as he flips through a rack of tapes. You wonder if Robin told Steve about what happened while you were still outside with Vickie. Maybe Steve and Robin have had similar conversations to you in Vickie in regards to this situation. Surely if they’re as close as they seem they’ve talked to each other about their feelings. It makes you think about what Steve has said to Robin about you…
“This is actually pretty good,” Vickie says, joining Robin on her side of the booth and handing the bottle back to her.
”We should have grabbed that one first,” you say, holding up your bottle of moscato. “This one is ass.”
”I’ll drink more of it if you don’t want it,” Steve says, looking at you from over his shoulder, offering his hand to take the bottle from you. You look at it, then at him, before taking the bottle and drinking from it once more. You make sure to maintain eye contact with him while the crimson liquid pours into your mouth, doing your best to keep a straight face.
When you finish, you take the bottle and give it to Steve, using your now free hand to wipe the remaining wine from your lips. Steve scoffs at you, looking you up and down before bringing the bottle to his own mouth. “You’re a brat, you know that?” He says before taking a sip from the bottle and turning back to the tape rack.
The mood felt lighter after that exchange, and the four of you spent the next couple of hours chatting with each other and drinking well into the night. It was nearing midnight by the time any of you thought to check the time. Robin just about knocked Vickie out of her lap when she realized how late it had gotten.
”Shh shh shh,” she said with a slight slur, bringing a finger to her lips and slipping her headphones back on.
Suddenly, you felt hands on your hips that were holding you in place as Steve slid his body behind yours, hand still resting on one hip as he grabbed his own head phones from off the wall next to where you were standing.
You’re not sure if it was meant to be an intimate gesture, but with the good buzz you had going on, the feeling of his touch on your body was electric. The sensation still lingered even when his hand left your hip to do his job.
”Alrighty, folks, we are closing in on the final minutes of Christmas Eve here tonight, which means that we will be wrapping it up at the station for the night. We have a slew of all your holiday faves lined up for those pulling all nighters who want to stay in the holiday spirit tonight. Personally, I’m going to be heading to bed like a good girl so Santa leaves me presents.”
Robin looks up at Vickie with a smirk, “Although, I will say that I have already received one of my presents early.” Vickie covers her face with her hands to hide her embarrassment and you can’t help but smile for your best friend.
”So with that, I’ll send you into the early hours of Christmas Day with some good ol’ Brenda Lee. Until next time, this is Rockin’ Robin wishing you all a very merry Christmas.”
Robin flips a switch to cut her mic as the beginning of Rockin Around the Christmas Tree starts to play. Slipping her headphones off, she wraps her arms around Vickie and pulls her back in the chair, making Vickie squeal at her antics.
“Got anything left in that bottle there, deary?” Robin asks Vickie, to which Vickie shakes her head, turning the bottle completely upside down. Robin lets out a boo and swivels her chair to face you and Steve. “What about you guys? Got any left?”
”I don’t want your backwash in our bottle,” Steve says, making Robin gasp in offense.
”I am not a child, Harrington,” Robin argues, making Vickie giggle in her drunken state. Steve looks at Robin before taking the bottle and tossing it back, bottle going completely up as he chugs the last bit of wine inside. You can’t help but watch the way his throat bobs with every swallow, not even mad that he’s taken the rest of the wine for himself.
Robin looks at him with her jaw on the floor. “Steve, you suck!”
Steve sets the bottle on the table behind you with a loud thud, his arm brushing against your back as he has to reach around you to put it there. You look up at him, his face so close to yours you can smell the wine heavy on his breath. His eyes meet yours briefly before he pulls away, a hand pushing his brown locks back and out of his face.
A loud yawn catches your attention and you look at Vickie, whose whole body shivers in Robin’s lap. “Getting sleepy on me?” Robin asks and Vickie sheepishly nods.
“We can go soon if you want,” you say to Vickie, and that suggestion seems to get everyone’s attention.
”You can’t go yet,” Robin says, panic in her slurred voice.
”Yeah, you’ve been drinking,” Vickie says, looking at you with wide eyes.
”I’ve barely had anything.” You pat your hand against Steve’s arm with a laugh. “Steve here took care of most of that bottle.”
“I think you’re giving me more credit than you think,” Steve chimes in.
”Trust me I’m fine,” you assure them all.
“I think you should wait it out a little longer,” Steve suggests, and Robin nods.
”Yeah, or, or, you guys could stay?” Robin looks at you hopefully. “The roads are probably shit right now anyway. Wouldn’t be able to live with myself if you guys got stuck in the snow all night because we sent you away.”
“What do you mean stay? Where would we sleep?” You ask, confused about what Robin was suggesting.
”We have rooms!” Robin says excitedly. “They’re not anything glorious but they have beds and, and…well what else do you really need to sleep besides a bed, right?”
”Robin, we only have the two rooms,” Steve says, and Robin tilts her head in confusion.
”Yes, and?”
”Well there’s,” Steve gestures around the room, “four of us, if you forgot how to count.”
”So, we’ll double up! Vickie can stay in my bed and you two can—“
”No!” You shout, waving your hands dismissively.
”I’m gonna stop you right there,” Steve says, and Robin throws her hands up in defense. “Look, let’s cut to the chase here. Obviously you two want to spend some time together alone.” You snap to look at Steve, wide eyed that he was the one addressing the elephant in the room. “So the two of you can go back to your room and, ya know,” Steve makes a face that conveys his discomfort in the topic at hand, “do…whatever. She can sleep in my bed and I’ll just stay out here and make sure everything runs okay.”
”Steve, I’m not going to kick you out of your bed,” you say, feeling bad that he would even suggest it. “I can seriously go home. Give me like 30 minutes to sober up and I’ll be fine.”
”No, absolutely not,” Vickie says, “You’re not going out there alone.”
“It’s really not a big deal,” Steve says, “It’s not the first all nighter I’ve spent here.”
”Okay, well, what if I just stay up with you?” You suggest, looking to him to gauge his reaction.
”You don’t have to do that—“
Another yawn from Vickie interrupts the back and forth between you and Steve. Robin rubs Vickie’s back and motions for her to get up.
“Well, you two decide whatever it is you want to do, as long as no one leaves,” she says, looking at you. “I’m gonna take this one back to my room and get some sleep before Santa shows up. Goodnight!”
”Goodnight,” Vickie says quietly, giving you one last look before Robin guides her out of the booth.
“Night!” Steve yells at the two of them as they go. You watch Vickie and Robin disappear into the hall, leaving you alone with Steve. It’s quiet for a few beats, an awkward tension filling the air around you. You search your mind for something to say, but your brain is completely void of thoughts for some reason.
”So,” Steve says, finally breaking the silence. He moves past you to a shelf of records on the other side of the room. “Got any requests? Gotta be Christmas themed, but I can play whatever you want to hear.”
You blink at him, taking a moment to process his words. “Oh, well,” you say, pushing off from the table and sauntering over to Steve, “What about…Sinatra?”
”Mistletoe and Holly?” Steve suggests, pulling out a record from the shelf.
“Actually, I was thinking something like…” You look over the records until you find the record with the song you’re wanting. Plucking it from its spot on the shelf, you hand it to Steve for him to play.
“Ah, good choice,” Steve says with a nod, pulling the record from his sleeve. He sets the disc on the player and moves the needle in place to play the song of choice. He pauses for a moment, listening to the current song playing as it nears its end, preparing to transition into the new song once it’s over. As the song comes to a close, Steve drops the needle and the soft sound of “Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas” starts to play.
Steve straightens up as Frank Sinatra’s voice fills the air around you, taking his lower lip between his teeth like he’s deep in thought. Suddenly, he turns on his heels until he’s facing you, taking a few steps until he’s directly in front of you.
You’re not sure what you expected to happen, but him taking your hands in his definitely wasn’t on your first guess. Neither was him placing your right hand on his shoulder, leaving his left fall and land on your hip, sliding around until it reached your lower back. With a little push, he closed the remaining distance between you, leaving your fronts flush with one another’s. The whole motion from start to finish was smooth as silk, but still caught you totally off guard, all the air around you feeling like it had been sucked away.
When you dared to look up, you were met with half lidded eyes and a soft smirk above you. Then, you felt yourself being guided gently as Steve began to move your body with his, swaying in time with the soft beat of the music. You wouldn’t call yourself a very good dancer, but Steve seemed like he knew what he was doing, so you just let him take the lead as he danced with you in the small booth.
The two of you stayed like this for the duration of the song, moving in slow circles without a word between you. Not because you didn’t have anything to say. On the contrary, you had a lot of things you wanted to say, and maybe even more that you wanted to ask. But at this moment, you don’t feel like you need all the answers. Instead, you simply rest your head on Steve’s chest, the soft plush of his sweater comforting against your cheek.
But just as quickly as it happened, the song came to an end, leaving you and Steve to listen to the sound of the needle jumping against the end of the record. The two of you come to a stop but don’t immediately part ways, neither of you really wanting the moment to end.
After a minute or so of just enjoying one another’s company, Steve lets out a sigh that moves your head with the heave of his chest. “I should probably fix that,” Steve says, a hint of disappointment in his tone. You take that as your cue to move and take a step back, feeling the slight resistance from Steve’s grip on you before he lets you go.
Steve moves past you to the record player before turning it off and flipping a switch to start the music back up again on the tapes. The upbeat tune of “Run, Run, Rudolph” was such a stark contrast to the previous song that you couldn’t help but laugh at how ridiculous it sounded. ”Might be hard to slow dance to this,” you say, and Steve chuckles along with you.
There’s a quiet beat between the two of you, and all of those thoughts and questions start to bubble up again in your mind. Could Steve like you the way you think he does? What about the feelings for Nancy that Robin has said he still has? Was he just doing all of this as a friend? You’re sure when you were outside he was going to…
“Fuck it.”
Before you could even react to Steve’s words he was striding towards you, closing in on you faster than you could comprehend. Two big, warm hands cup your cheeks, holding you in place where you stand as Steve’s face gets closer, closer, until he’s mere centimeters away. You know you should close your eyes, but you’re almost afraid that if you look away that all of this might not happen.
But it does happen. The press of his nose into your cheek followed directly by the feeling of his chapped lips crashing into yours. It’s rough at first, Steve’s desperation reading loud and clear with the pressure he was pushing into you, like you’d float away if his lips weren’t anchoring you to him.
But when you didn’t pull away Steve seemed to get the hint that you weren’t going anywhere. You could feel as he started to relax, to the point he was almost melting into you, the hot air of his breath escaping from his nose in relief and warming your cheek.
Leaning into him, you slid your arms between his until they were wrapped loosely around his neck. In doing so, you shifted your whole body so it was flush with his once more, electing a little noise of approval from Steve that vibrated against your lips, making you giggle.
Steve pulled back slightly, just enough that he could press his lips against yours with a peck, once, twice, a third time. At the same time, one of his hands slipped away from your face, gripping your side firmly while he simultaneously pressed his hips into you.
“Steve.” His name came out more breathily than you intended, but Steve didn’t seem to mind by the way he moaned your name in return, sending chills down your spine. He kissed you again, this time taking your bottom lip between his teeth and pulling lightly, his way of asking for more. The air shifted then, and you obliged, parting your lips for his tongue to slip inside.
The kiss became heated from that point, all tongue and lips smacking and your hands in his hair and his hand on your ass and moaning. His name escaped from your lips once more when his began to trail away from yours, leaving tingling sensations in their wake as they went lower, lower, until he was taking the tender, sensitive flesh of your neck between them in soft nibbles. Not enough to leave a mark, he was smarter than that, but he wanted you to know he could if he dared to.
Without taking away the attention he had on your neck, he began to press himself into you with a bit of force, and you took that as a signal to move. Shuffling backwards, you felt the table behind you hit your ass and quickly braced against it with one of your hands as Steve pressed his body into you. When you couldn’t move any further, Steve’s lips parted from your neck so he could refocus his attention on what he was about to do next.
You felt him reach around you, big hands gripping the backs of your thighs and pulling you up in one swift motion, plopping your ass onto the surface of the table with a small thump. “Steve!” You squeal, looking at him in shock. “What are you doing?” But he doesn’t respond with words. Instead, he shifts his grip behind your knees and pulls you to the edge of the table, leaving you to open your legs to maintain your balance where you sit.
Which must have been exactly what Steve wanted, because he slotted himself between your thighs until his crotch was pressing against your clothed center. It was this close contact that had you being able to really feel him against you. Steve cursed under his breath as he pressed his hard cock against your heat through his slacks, his brows pinching together like he was pained by the friction.
His lips were on you again in an instant, wasting no time getting right back into the hot and heavy level of intensity in his aroused state. As he kissed you senseless, you felt his hands slide up your denim clad thighs until they disappeared under the hem of your sweater. His hands were cold against your skin compared to the heat that was building up all around you. The bottom of your sweater began to rise as his hands moved up your stomach until they reached your chest, exposing your lace bra to the open air.
Steve broke the kiss, leaving you to chase after him in your dizzy state he worked you up into. You looked up at him through your lashes as he stared at your chest, mesmerized at the sight of you. “Did you wear this for me?” He teases, hooking his finger in the center of your bra and tugging at it playfully.
You give him a sly smile and shrug, “Maybe. So what if I did?”
Steve chuckles lowly, “Well, I guess I would have to thank you for wrapping my gift so nicely for me. With a bow and everything,” he says, flicking the little bow that sits between your breasts.
”What if,” you start, grabbing the collar of his hoodie and pulling him closer to you, “I told you there’s another gift with a matching bow for you?” You look down at your lap and Steve’s eyes follow. He smiles wide at your suggestion, one of his hands dropping from your chest to land at the button of your jeans.
”It is after midnight, so it should be okay for me to open my present now, right?”
This was it. This is what you’ve dreamed about since you first laid eyes on pretty boy Steve back in high school. Only this wasn’t a dream. Steve was actually here, standing over you with blown out pupils and a very hard cock, asking for permission to see your most sensitive parts.
And how could you tell him no on Christmas?
“Well, it’s not gonna open itself, is it?”
Steve’s head dropped with a laugh, eyes trained where he was undoing your pants. You leaned back as he pulled down the zipper, peeling the sides apart until the hem of your panties were visible.
“You weren’t lying,” he says with a smile as he notices the bow that matches the one on your bra.
“Told you,” you say with a smirk.
Looking back up at you, Steve’s eyes search yours for any uncertainty, but you only look back at him with desire, ready for whatever he was going to give you. He then leans in once again, capturing your lips with his, only this time he’s much slower, more intense.
At the same time, his hand pulls at your panties until they slip inside, moving down, down, until his hand is cupping your wet heat. You gasp into him, and he shushes you, whispering reassurances to you as he begins to explore you. “So wet for me, baby,” he breathes, but you can’t form words to respond as he toys with you. You can’t stop the way your hips shift when his fingers brush against your sensitive bud, sending a jolt of electricity through your body.
”There she is,” he coos, pressing a kiss to your cheek. His fingers slide through your heat until one of them stops at your entrance and slowly pushes inside of you, not stopping until it's to the knuckle. He lets you adjust to him only for a brief moment before he starts pumping his finger in and out of you.
At the same time, he lets his thumb press into your clit and move it at the same time as his finger. You brace your hand on his shoulder as he works you open, legs shaking at the sensations shooting from between them.
”S-shit, Steve,” you stutter, brain going blank at the building pleasure he was giving you.
”Does that feel good, sweet girl?” Steve asks, and you nod dumbly in response. “Mmm, you’re taking my finger so well. What if we add one more?” Steve doesn’t wait for you to respond before you feel his second finger entering you, stretching you open for him even more. You let out a moan that has Steve nodding his head lazily, “Oh, yeah, that’s my girl. Gotta get you good and ready for me, yeah?”
”Y-yeah,” you manage to get out, brain barely able to form any thoughts with the way your body is buzzing.
“Gonna let me fuck you so good, aren’t you?” Steve’s eyes were locked on yours as he spoke, watching you as you come undone from his touch.
“Please, S-Steve.” You didn’t know what you were asking for, so close to that your mind was starting to go blank.
”Go ahead, baby girl, cum for me,” Steve says, fingers moving faster inside of you. That was enough for you to be pushed over the edge, vision blurring as you feel yourself cumming around him. You can’t help but moan out as hot pleasure washes over you.
And when your back arches, you accidentally hit the tape stand behind you, knocking a bunch of tapes onto the floor in a loud clatter. Steve jumps back with a curse, hand pulling away from you and leaving you feeling empty. With one hand in the air, the other hand that wasn’t inside you swiftly grabs at the various tapes and messily puts them back onto the table.
“Do-do you need help?” You say, still on the last bit of your high as you watch Steve frantically move around.
”Nope, sorry, you’re good,” Steve says, standing up with the last of the tapes in his hand.
”Wow, what a mood killer,” you laugh, jumping off the table onto shaky legs.
”I, uh, wouldn’t say that,” Steve says, a clean hand running through his hair bashfully.
That’s when you notice the way his cock is pressing against the fabric of his slacks. Your eyes almost bug out of your head at the size of the imprint it was leaving, never seeing anything so big in your life. He really wasn’t kidding when he said he needed to get you ready for him.
The expression on your face must have conveyed your thoughts, because Steve let out a cackle that had his head tilting back. “Steve!” You shout at him with a giggle. You slap his arm and he flinches away, still laughing at your expression.
”Sorry, I’m sorry,” he laughs, “I’ve just never seen someone so offended by looking at my dick before”
”I’m not offended,” you assure him, “I’m just…surprised is all.”
”It’s okay, it’s not the first time I’ve heard that.” Steve stands in front of you again, hands on either hip as he presses his forehead against yours. “But, I think if we’re going to continue, if you want to continue—“
”I do.”
”Good. Then, I think we need to move this party elsewhere. If Robin ever knew about what just happened in here I think she might actually kill me.”
”Lead the way,” you say, stepping away from him and gesturing towards the door. He takes your hand in his and guides you out of the booth, the sound of Christmas music fading as he pulls you through the station until you reach an unmarked room. He pushes the door open and steps inside what is essentially a broom closet. It’s small, has no windows, and is practically empty, say for a small full size bed and a table with a lamp and alarm clock.
”Sorry it’s not much,” Steve says, clicking on the lamp to illuminate the small space.
“It’s okay,” you say, closing the door behind you as you step inside. “Robin said you don’t need much more than a bed, right? Not like you planned on having a girl in here.”
”Definitely not,” Steve says, wrapping his arms around you. “But since I have you here…hey, what are you—?” Steve looks down at you on your knees in front of him, surprised at your new position. When you go to reach for his pants, his hands grab yours to stop you. “You don’t have to do this.”
You take mild offense to this, shaking his hands from yours. “Are you joking? What man turns down a blowjob?”
”A man of my size does,” he says, making you squint up at him.
”That sounds like a challenge, Harrington.”
”Trust me, it’s not. I don’t want you to think you have to do this for my sake.”
”I’m not doing it for your sake,” you say, reaching for his pants again, “I’m doing it because I want to.”
”Okay, fine, just, promise me that if it’s too much you’ll stop. Okay?” Steve looks down at you with genuine concern in his eyes that make you actually reconsider for a moment.
But you’re not backing down now, no way.
You pop open the button of his slacks and the pressure of his cock against the zipper causes it to come undone on its own. You pull at his pants until they fall around Steve’s ankles, leaving the only thing between you and his cock is his boxers. They’re fighting for their life to hold his cock back, a large tent of checkered fabric presented in front of you.
The thought of teasing him a bit is tempting, but you don’t think that you can hold out much longer yourself, your curiosity getting the better of you. So you take the waistband of his boxers and tug on them, shimmying them down over his hips and—oh.
Steve’s cock springs to life once it's freed from the confines of his boxers, almost hitting you in the face once it's released. Upon immediate first impression all you can think is big. Big in length, big in girth, and it’s all Steve. Of course he would be blessed with good looks and a huge cock.
“Having second thoughts?” His voice pulls you from your gawking, but you shake your head at the question, not about to back down now.
You take a hand and wrap it around his cock, finger tips no where near touching with his impressive size. Steve’s face scrunches up as you move your hand up and down his shaft, breath hitching when you roll your thumb over his red, swollen tip. Little noises escape his lips as you stroke him, only egging you on to keep going.
After sufficiently working him up with your hand you decide it's time to test yourself. Grabbing his cock from at the tip you hold it straight up and lean in, letting your tongue land at the base and dragging it upward along the thick vein there. When you reach the tip you take it in your mouth, letting your tongue lick around it before sucking on it gently.
“Shit,” Steve hisses, running a hand through his hair.
You continue taking him into your mouth, going deeper and deeper until you could feel yourself resisting a gag as his head hit the back of your throat. You grab him at the base where you couldn’t take him all the way and begin to slide him out until just the tip remains between your lips.
“That’s too good,” Steve moans, looking down at you as you bob up and down on him. His hand grips the back of your head and moves with the motion of your head, not in a forceful way, but more grounding for him while you’re making him feel good. All his little moans and breathy curses spur you on, only making you want to try harder to keep him going.
“Wait, wait, wait!” Just as you start to get a good groove going, Steve is suddenly pulling himself out of your mouth with a pop. He grabs the head of his cock and squeezes, his whole body tensing up with a slight shake.
“What’s wrong?” You ask, unsure what elicited this reaction out of him.
“Nothing’s wrong,” he says through his teeth, “I just don’t wanna cum yet.”
“I wouldn’t have mind,” you say, looking up at him through your lashes.
Steve huffs out a short laugh. “I’m sure you wouldn’t have. But it takes me a minute to bounce back when I cum and I really, really don’t want to wait any longer.”
“Wait any longer for what?” You ask with faux innocence.
With a smirk, Steve nods his head, acknowledging your game before reaching out for you. He wordlessly takes your hands in his and helps you back up on your feet, maneuvering you around until you’re standing with your legs against the mattress.
With a light shove, you fall back onto the small bed, lightly bouncing from the impact. Steve takes this time to strip his sweat shirt off of him, leaving him bare chested for your viewing pleasure. You hum in approval, eying the thick patch of hair that covers his chest.
“Like what you see?”
”Oh yeah,” you say with an animated nod.
“I feel a bit underdressed now,” he says, bending over you in the bed. “I think we need to change that.”
”I think so,” you say, grabbing your sweater and pulling it up. It takes a second but you get the fabric over your head and toss it to the side to be found later.
“Ah, yes, I still need to unwrap my gifts,” Steve says, staring at your bra covered chest.
”Be my guest.” You lift your back off the bed as Steve slips his hand under you. Only a moment later do you feel the pressure of your strap loosen as Steve expertly unhooks it, freeing you from its confines. You grab the straps and pull them down until you’re completely uncovered. There’s a pleasant look of surprise on Steve’s face as your bra goes flying into the pile with your sweater.
”Jesus Christ. How did you know?” He says enthusiastically. “They’re just what I wanted.”
“Shut up!” You say with a laugh, slapping your hand on his chest.
“This one right here is the real present, though.”
He hooks his fingers into your jeans and panties and gives them a tug. You raise your hips so he could pull them down with more ease, the material sliding down your hips and legs until you’re kicking them off your ankles.
And there you were, bare naked in a radio station storage closet turned makeshift bedroom with Steve Harrington looking down at you like you were a steak dinner and he was a man starved. Never in a million years would you have ever guessed you’d be in this scenario, and you almost felt like you needed to pinch yourself to prove that it was real.
Steve slowly climbed over you in the bed until he was on his knees between your legs, prying them open and exposing your most private parts for him to see. “So pretty,” he cooes, taking in the sight before him. You feel heat in your cheeks from his praise, feeling rather bashful all the sudden.
“Nuh uh, don’t hide from me now, sweet girl,” Steve says as he grabs your hands and pulls them off your face. He leans in until he’s resting his elbows on either side of your head, caging you underneath him, giving you no choice but to look at him with his face mere inches from yours.
His lips land on yours once more, soft pecks that turn into smacking lips and tongues mingling. Any playfulness that was between you has gone out the door as he kisses you until you’re breathless and needy beneath him.
“Steve,” you breathe out, and he hums in response.
”What, is it, baby?”
”Need you.”
Steve pulls back just enough that he can see your whole face, keeping his eyes on yours as he snakes a hand between your bodies. Then you’re feeling it, the head of his cock sliding through the wetness of your folds. It catches on your entrance for a moment and your eyes go wide. Steve lines himself up with you then, and pushes in ever so slightly before stopping.
”It might be a lot at first,” he warns, not taking his eyes off of you. “I’ll go slow for you. Just tell me if it’s too much.” All you can do is nod, but that’s good enough for him.
Then, slowly like he promised, he pushes himself into you, stretching you open wide with his cock. It’s not painful, it’s just…a lot. You’ve never felt so full so quickly from any other guy you’ve been with, and he was still going. It was like it was never going to end, his hips rocking shallowly as he inches himself inside of your tight heat.
Steve’s resolve soon begins to falter though, his brows pinching together and his mouth hanging open the deeper he goes. And after what feels like too long, Steve finally finds himself flush against you. He pauses to let you get adjusted to his size, taking the time to regain some control of himself before moving.
But you didn’t need long before wanting more. You wiggle your hips a bit and that has Steve’s attention back on you immediately. He gives you a quick sorry and you reassure him that it's okay.
Not a moment later Steve starts moving his hips, the slow drag out of you making your back arch at the sensation. Without missing a beat Steve begins to move, starting off easy but building up to a reasonable pace. It felt like your whole body was alight as waves of pleasure washed over you with each thrust.
“Oh my god, Steve,” you moan, eyes screwing shut as you focused on the way he was making you feel.
”That feel good, baby?” He asks, a lit of cockiness in his tone. “You’re taking me so well. Feel so good. Fuck.” His words ring in your ears, turning your brain into mush in your skull. The only thing you could feel was Steve’s thick cock filling you up over and over again, his bulbous tip hitting that sweet spot deep inside you with ease.
Pausing his movements for a moment, Steve pushes himself off the mattress until he’s sitting straight up in front of you. His eyes are fixed where the two of you meet, and you can feel him sliding out of you slowly until just the tip remains. “S-shit,” he stutters, jaw slack as he watches the way his cock glistens with your wetness.
“Can we just…” Steve starts, reaching a hand under your leg and lifting it, folding it over yourself until your body starts to twist. You catch on to what he’s trying to do and shift your body around into the new position he’s going for. Unfortunately his cock does slip out in the process, leaving you feeling empty in a way you’ve never experienced before.
Once you’ve gotten yourself positioned on your stomach, Steve lifts your hips up until your ass is sufficiently in the air. He takes the base of his cock in his hand and taps the tip against your ass with a few wet slaps. You let out a displeased whine and Steve chuckles at your impatience.
Repositioning himself with your entrance again, he pushes his way inside of you. This new angle has you gasping, his cock feeling like it’s going impossibly deeper inside of you. You grip the sheets of the bed below you as he bottoms out once more.
“Oh, fuck me,” Steve groans, his hands pressing your ass against his pelvis. Steve wastes no time picking up where he left off, his pace quickening with each thrust inside of you. The sound of wet slaps mixed with your moans filled the small room, only fueling Steve to fuck you harder.
”God, are you close?” He pants out, hopefulness in his tone.
”Yes, fuck, yes, so close Steve,” you manage to get out. You could feel the pressure building up inside of you, you just needed a little more to get you there. “Don’t stop, Steve, fuck, don’t stop!”
Suddenly you felt a heavy weight against your back pushing you down into the mattress. Steve’s chest was now flush against your back, his arm wrapping around your middle and holding you tight as he began to drill into you.
“Take it, baby,” Steve huffs in your ear, “Take it like a good girl.”
His words could have done you in right there, but when his other hand made its way to your aching clit, you knew you were done for. “Oh, god Steve, fuck, I’m—“
”Yes, fuck, cum for me!”
Everything suddenly goes blurry, little stars appearing in your vision as your whole body tightens. Tremors wrack through you in waves, making you shake underneath Steve’s weight. Steve continues to fuck you through what you’re feeling, but his movements are getting sloppier with each passing second.
”Oh, fuck, shit I’m gonna—“
Steve wraps his arms around you tightly as he bucks wildly, rutting once, twice, three times, before stilling inside of you. Even in your blissed out state you can feel the way his cum fills you up deep inside, making you shutter at the sensation.
Neither of you had talked about where he would cum, let alone about using a condom. And in reality you should probably be mad at him for not bringing it up either, but the way he was making you feel made you not care for the time being.
The two of you were still for a moment, basking in the post orgasm bliss. It wasn’t until Steve started peppering kisses on your shoulder that you finally felt yourself really come back to Earth. You turn your head to get a better look at him, shooting him a smile when he caught you peeking.
”Hey,” he said, leaning in to kiss your cheek.
“Hi, Stevie,” you said back, making him cheese with how you said his name.
“I’m gonna pull out now, okay?” You nod, thankful for the warning beforehand. Your brows pinched together and he slid his softening cock from your warmth, leaving an aching feeling in its wake.
Not a second later Steve was plopping down on his side beside you. One of his arms pulled at you, wordlessly asking you to follow his lead and lay down next to him. So you did, moving your body with more grace than he did, until you were laying chest to chest with him, your head resting between his shoulder and bicep.
You could feel the heat radiating off of his body, but it still wasn’t enough to warm you as the cold air began to hit you. “Here, let me just…” Steve pulls at the thick comforter under the two of you until he’s freed it, throwing it over the top of you both. You gave an approving hum, nestling into him with the blanket pulled all the way up to your neck.
Steve looks down at you, pressing a kiss into the top of your head, letting his lips rest there for a few moments before pulling away. “Can I ask you something?” He asks, voice hushed in your close proximity.
”You can ask me anything after all of that,” you tease, making Steve shake his head.
“Is this…going to be a one time thing?”
You could tell by the tone of his voice that he was worried about what your answer was going to be. So you thought about it. For a good long minute, you did. Long enough that it was making Steve nervous,
”You don’t have to answer now, I just—“
”What do you want, Steve?”
It was Steve’s turn to think. He didn’t say anything for a while, but you let him take his time. You knew he was going through a lot, what with the military presence in Hawkins and the rapid growth of the radio station over the last few months.
If Steve told you right now that he didn’t want anything serious, you would totally understand. As much as you might want something with him, you knew you couldn’t push him into anything. Hell, with the way he still acts around Nancy, you weren’t sure if you wanted to risk just being a rebound for him.
Could you be friends with benefits? Sure. It might be hard, what with the existing feelings you’ve harbored for him all this time. But you also didn’t want to give this up. No one has ever made you feel the way he did, and you were willing to put your heart on the line to chase that feeling, even if it was at your detriment.
”I think,” Steve finally says, breaking the silence between you, “I don’t want this to be all that we have between us. As much as I enjoyed it, and I really enjoyed it, I don’t want…I don’t want something meaningless with you.”
“Okay, so you don’t want this to be, like, a reoccurring thing?” You ask for clarification.
”No, that’s not what I’m saying. I really want to do this again. What I mean is, I want to do things right. I want to take you out, wine and dine you, show you that I’m a good guy.”
You lean back so you can look at him in the eyes, “I already know you’re a good guy, Steve. I’ve been seeing how much you’ve changed since we all started hanging out. You don’t have to prove anything to me.”
Steve’s hand cups your cheek, and he ducks down to kiss you softly. “Then you should have no reason to say no to me taking you, say, to Enzo’s? I can get us a reservation. We can dress nice and I’ll get us a bottle of wine to share. How’s that sound?”
After everything that led you up to this point, you really shouldn’t be surprised that this is happening. But, you can still barely contain your girlish excitement at the idea of your high school crush asking you on a date to the fanciest restaurant in town.
“I think I’d like that,” you say with a smile so big it reaches your eyes.
”Oh, thank god,” Steve says with a heavy sigh. “I was gonna have to kick you out to go sleep with Vickie and Robin if you said no.” You whack his chest and he lets out a bark of a laugh.
The two of you talk a little bit more until the pull of sleep overtakes you both. There wasn’t much room on the small bed, so you two stayed close to each other regardless of how either of you tossed and turned while you slept.
A loud banging on the door is what startled you awake the next morning. Your eyes landed on the clock on the table next to the bed, the red lights glowing to show you that it was 6 am. Steve shot up in bed as the banging continued, looking around like he didn’t know where he was.
”Wake up, dingus!” You heard Robin yell from the other side of the door. “One of the tapes jammed last night while we were asleep and it’s been dead air ever since!”
”Shit!” Steve shouted, climbing over you and jumping out of the bed. He scrambled to put his clothes back on, getting at least his boxers and pants pulled up before he cracked open the door.
”What happened to you staying up?” Robin asks.
”That…didn’t happen,” Steve says, for lack of better explanation. You hear Vickie’s voice from the hall too, asking if he’s seen you at all. “Oh, um yeah, she’s—“
”I’m in here!” You shout from over the covers of the bed. You don’t see their reactions, but you can hear Robin and Vickie gasping and hollering from where you were.
“Alright, alright,” Steve says, turning around to grab his hoodie off the floor, “Let’s go get this taken care of.”
“Take your time in there!” You hear Vickie yell at you, and you roll your eyes at her teasing.
Fine, if she was going to let you take your time, then you were going to get a little more sleep before facing them.
synopsis: never thought you’d have a kink for a guy with long hair but when steve harrington walks into your life with his denim jacket and ripped jeans on while sporting his stupidly sexy 80s bouffant mullet, you knew there was no way you were getting away.
w/c: 8.5k
warnings: inexperienced!reader who's a little shy, explicit language, mature themes, talks of dead bodies, swearing, smoking, lots of tooth rutting fluff, suggestive language, vaginal sex, steve is rough with it, detailed smut, oral sex, praise kink, cunnilingus, overstimulation, dirty talk.
You despise his hair.
You despise it with an intensity that borders on irrationality. If Steve Harrington did not possess that ridiculous waterfall of perfectly coiffed brunette hair, you would not see his face every time you closed your eyes.
You would not lie awake at three in the morning, exhausted yet unable to silence the image of him running a hand through it with that infuriating confidence.
If he did not look so impossibly attractive with that layered mullet, you might have been able to focus on your responsibilities instead of scribbling sketches that resembled his silhouette in the margins of your notebooks.
If he did not have that hair, those warm brown eyes, those unfairly symmetrical teeth, that smug, charmingly troublesome smile, you would not have fallen so disastrously hard for him.
How did any of this begin? Let us return to the start.
It feels cliché to credit fate, yet fate wove itself through every step that led you to him. You were in Hawkins during your senior year of high school, still attempting to adjust to the monotony of small-town life.
You spent most days buried in assignments, doing everything you could to escape the suffocating boredom that accompanied the town’s quiet routine. Friends were not exactly plentiful. Acquaintances existed, but true companionship was a luxury you had never quite earned.
What makes it ironic is that you and Steve Harrington did not even begin as friends. At that point in your life, you barely knew he existed, and he certainly had no reason to know you.
Hawkins High was already buzzing with his reputation. His daily fights with students spread all types of rumors about him, both flattering and cruel. You heard whispers of his name whenever you walked down the hallway, clutching textbooks to your chest, although you were too preoccupied to care.
“I heard Tammy Thompson asked him out and he called her a total loser. She cried in the choir room for like, an hour!”
“No way. I heard he got caught smoking behind the gym with Tommy and Carol and almost got suspended.”
“Dude, I heard he murdered three guys in high school and fed them to his dogs.”
The rest of the talk focused on how painfully attractive he was, and although that sparked a faint curiosity, you had no energy to indulge it. You were far too busy trying to keep your life in order to care about Hawkins High’s golden boy with the stupidly perfect hair.
You knew his name, but not his face, so you felt no nervous thrill when you accidentally sat beside him in Creative Arts.
You simply noticed the ridiculous note stuck to the back of his navy jacket, pressed flat against the fabric as he leaned forward.
“Hey,” you murmured, quiet enough to escape the attention of nearby students. “You have something on your back.”
Now that you were close enough to truly look at him, you realized the infamous Steve Harrington was striking in a way that felt unfair. His skin held a warm, sunlit glow that seemed permanent, the kind earned from long afternoons on the Hawkins High tennis courts.
His jawline was sharp, his eyes a mellow brown that softened when the light touched them, framed by thick lashes that swept down whenever he blinked.
His chestnut hair fell in soft waves, feathered just right, with enough volume to suggest he cared yet not enough to seem vain. He slouched over his desk with his arms folded, staring blankly toward the board as though nothing in the universe could hold his attention.
When he glanced sideways, that slow sweep of his gaze felt unexpectedly arresting.
“What?” His brows lifted slightly, unreadable.
You tapped your pen against the back of his jacket. “I am not judging you if it is something you enjoy, but I don’t think wearing a note that says spank me, mama across your back is the most effective way to achieve it.”
Color rose so quickly in his cheeks it was almost endearing. You barely allowed your mind to register the thought. You had made a strict promise to yourself to stay focused on your last year of high school. Falling for a boy on the first day of class was not part of the plan.
“Great,” he muttered, already fumbling behind him as if the jacket had caught fire. His fingers twisted hopelessly until he finally tore the paper free. His eyes skimmed it in a whisper, widening with humiliation.
“I assume it is not your handwriting?” You kept your tone mild, though amusement threatened to slip through.
He did this pout that felt slightly out of place with how mature he looked, but after a while, it grew on you probably because his wide eyes kind of reminded you of a five-year-old boy’s.
Most of the guys you knew would look immensely disgusting if they pulled that kind of pout.
“I would cry myself to sleep if my handwriting looked like this,” he muttered. The comment drew a smile from you that you hid behind your notebook. He turned toward you again, an awkward grin softening his features.
“Sorry. My friends are assholes. You happen to know any swamp around here where I can dump their bodies without getting caught?”
You nodded with solemn conviction. “I know a place. They charge now, though. Pretty expensive. About a thousand per body. Which explains why I’m broke.”
His grin brightened into something almost luminous, likely relieved to discover someone who understood his brand of idiotic humor. “I’m Steve.” He slipped a hand beneath the table for a discreet handshake. You gave him your name in return. “Thanks for saving my dignity.”
“Any time. You can return the favor if I ever walk around with a note that says spank me, daddy taped to my back.”
He snorted. “So your friends are assholes too?”
“It seems to be a universal trait.”
Your professor’s raised voice forced both of you into silence, though you exchanged small grins across the table whenever you dared.
When class was finally dismissed, you parted ways with nothing more than a casual wave and a simple, “Guess I’ll see you later.” Anything more felt too bold, and he likely felt the same.
You admitted to yourself that he was cute, but not cute enough to make you skip your next class and press him against a car in the parking lot. You told yourself you would see him again, probably the next week when Creative Arts resumed.
You were right. Unfortunately, you wished you had not been, because Steve returned the following week looking like trouble fashioned into a boy.
He had actually showered this time, and he walked into the room with a confidence that nearly bordered on sinful. He must have tried something new with his hair.
Instead of its usual loose waves, he had styled it back with a careful sweep, the top pushed away from his forehead in a way that revealed the full shape of his brows and the warm intention in his eyes.
It gave him a sharper, almost cinematic look, the kind you would expect to see on a glossy magazine cover rather than in a Hawkins High classroom.
You watched him walk past you and felt your breath falter. That hairstyle should have been illegal. Hello officer, is it not a crime to look that good?
Without the curtain of bangs shading his eyes, you finally saw the depth in them, the soft warmth, the playful curve at the edges when he glanced at you. The smooth line of his forehead and the thickness of his brows framed his gaze so perfectly that you very nearly forgot how to think.
If you had the time, you would write an essay about how beautifully Steve Harrington wore his hair like that. No, not an essay. A full novel.
His outfit didn’t help either. When you first met him, he was dressed sloppily in nothing but a black hoodie and a pair of khaki pants, looking dead tired as if he hadn’t slept for weeks.
Right now, as he walked into the class as if he was a fucking runway model, Steve wore a white shirt layered by a black jacket that showcased his broad shoulders perfectly. His dark ripped jeans hugged his thighs like a second skin with holes that were just… distracting, to say the least, and damn did he have long legs.
To top it off, he was wearing matching combat boots that made him look even more masculine.
You literally had to take a few seconds to yourself to process what is this majestic creature standing in front of you.
He didn’t notice you were already in the class when he walked in with his bag slinging on one shoulder.
Some rowdy boys were shouting at the back of the room, “Yo, Harringtonbomb! Saved you a seat!” Steve grinned at them, waving his hand before he walked toward their seats and you thought, Harringtonbomb? Why are they calling him Harringtonbo—
Your face turned pale when the realization hit you like a storm.
Wait, Harringtonbomb as in Harrington? He’s Steve Harrington?!
You mentally slapped yourself on the face when the memory of your first encounter with him resurfaced. You had the chance to talk to one of the most popular boys in town and you talked about swamp and dead bodies.
Absolutely fucking perfect.
After you managed to collect yourself, you couldn’t hold back this urge to sneak a few glances to the back of the class, trying to catch a glimpse of that beautiful forehead of his—which you realized by then that you had some kind of a kink for it—without having him notice you.
But he did. He did notice every time you tried to secretly stare and he reciprocated each time with a slight smirk, raising one of his eyebrows almost dangerously seductive at you. Goddamn, you thought, if that wasn’t the sexiest thing I’ve seen in my eighteen years of living I don’t know what is.
You offered your best effort to stay fucking calm despite everything that had been going on in your head. You waved one hand at him with a small—hopefully not creepy—smile on your face.
You immediately turned around right after, swallowing your breath, and tried not to vomit because your stomach felt like it was about to lurch out of your mouth.
It wasn’t an unpleasant feeling; it was just kind of new to you and you loathed the way your heart was slamming against your rib cages.
Okay, you mentally calmed yourself, get a hold of yourself. No need to panic. He’s just another cute boy, with cute hair, cute eyes, and a cute smirk, and—
You really didn’t like where it was going.
When the class ended, and you didn’t learn a thing from it, you shoved your notebook back into your bag and let out the loudest sigh you had ever made in your sorry life.
“Bad day?”
Steve’s voice was next to your ear and though you only jerked slightly on the outside, most of your soul had gone to heaven—or hell, from all those dirty thoughts you had about him during the last two hours of that lecture.
“Yeah,” you cooly replied. Thank God, your voice didn’t betray you. “My swamp is full again. I have to start looking for a new place.”
Am I seriously talking about fucking swamps again—
But Steve was laughing about it, not too much, not too loud, but the amusement on his face was genuine. “It’s cute that you remember our previous conversation.”
“It’s cute that you do too.”
“Well, actually, that’s what I’ve been thinking about for the whole week,” he told you with a smirk on his face which was a perfect combination of cute and mischievous, utterly boyish, with a little cockiness being thrown in there too.
You dared to bet on your life that he was flirting with you but considering that you had almost zero experience in flirting with boys, you decided to play it cool.
“I don’t think it’s a conversation worth remembering,” you commented nonchalantly.
“Not if I had it with anyone else.”
You almost fell from your seat. He was smooth, you had to admit. “On second thought, it was a pretty interesting conversation, wasn’t it? What the—”
“Hey.” He suddenly leaned close, laying one hand on your desk to prop his weight. There was that smirk again—the one with his eyebrow raised. “I’m trying to flirt with you and ask you out on a date if you haven’t noticed.”
Your tongue felt heavy in your mouth and you could hear your heartbeat in your ears at that point.
You had thought about him asking you out, more than you would like to admit, but your imagination did not do justice on how smooth and confident or how goddamn attractive he looked in real life.
“Oh.”
“Oh.” He imitated, smirking a bit wider and you were dazed with how bright he shone.
“So, can I take you out for lunch? Not anywhere close to swamps full of dead bodies, I swear.” Then after a small pause, he impishly added, “Unless, that’s what you’re into.”
“Shut up,” you retorted, standing up and gathering all your belongings into your arms. “You’re paying.”
He laughed softly to himself, trailing after you with a cheeky grin on his face. “This swamp thing could be our thing, though.”
“Shut up!”
***
“I’ll have Americano, thanks.” Steve smiled at the waitress who noticeably gulped in response and hurriedly left your table with tips of her ears turning scarlet.
She came back not long after with your orders, squeaking out, “Enjoy your food—coffee,” as she nervously placed his cup on the table and went back to her station. You wanted to roll your eyes at her reaction before you remembered how you acted ten times worse than she was before.
You sat tight on the edge of your seat, your hands laid neatly on the coffee table that stood between the two of you.
Steve, on the other hand, was leaning all the way back, his hands tucked inside his leather jacket with his long legs sprawled out underneath the table.
“What?” You hesitantly asked, noticing how he was staring at you. “Why are you looking at me like that?”
“Looking at you like what?” He tilted his head, looking amused. “You don’t have to be nervous, you know.”
“I’m not nervous.” Literally a three-year-old could’ve lied better than you and with Steve chuckling in response, you hurriedly take a sip of your coffee.
“You’re pretty.”
You choked on your drink and it wasn’t a pretty sight. Fortunately enough, you didn’t spill any on your shirt but some of it did trickle down your chin. “E-excuse me?”
“Smart,” Steve continued, clearly holding back a smile. “You’re pretty smart. That presentation you gave on visual arts last week? That was impressive.”
“Ah, y-yeah, thanks.” It was still in the beginning of spring and you were breaking off sweat. “I’m surprised you paid attention to class.”
“I usually don’t.” He said it so casually and yet it still stirred something inside your stomach. Steve was having a blast with your reaction. “Were you expecting me to say something else?”
You snorted. “No.”
“Yeah?” He leaned forward, laying one hand on the table. It was placed dangerously near to yours that you couldn’t help but steal glances at it. “‘Cause I thought about it too.”
“About—” You cleared your throat, groaning inwardly from sounding so squeaky. “About what?”
“How pretty you are.”
You’d seen it coming, but it didn’t make his words any easier to take in. “Well, you’re pretty too,” you spat back. “Pretty damn annoying.”
“I can be if that’s what you’re into.”
“Just drink your coffee.”
***
It was a study date, you’d like to call it, though you weren’t sure if you did any studying. It felt more like you were trying to concentrate on reading your damn textbook without throwing a glance at him every three seconds.
It was hard to resist his looks, especially when he seemed so dashing wearing a thin layer of buttoned-up denim shirt with his sleeves rolled up. He had his eyes dragged lazily over the passage he was supposed to read as the two of you sat right in front of each other in the library, working on your separate assignments.
Your eyes traveled along the protruding veins in his arms, admiring his long, lean fingers while wondering how they’d feel to be intertwined with yours.
Your heart rate blasted through the roof at the sight of him smiling back just a little when he caught your eyes.
“Got any questions?” Steve asked, propping his chin on his palm as he held your gaze.
“Uhh, no.” You cleared your throat, making yourself busy by going through the pages of your textbook.
One side of his lips curved upward. “So you just like staring at me, then?”
“Actually,” you immediately closed your book, heart thundering inside your rib cages. “I have been wondering about something. You know that there are quite a lot of weird rumors surrounding you, right?”
“Yeah?” He leaned back in his chair, sticking his hands inside his pocket. “Try me.”
“The one about you and Tammy?”
“Never heard of her.”
“How about the cocaine one? They said they saw you doing cocaine together with our janitor.”
“Never done it.”
“You don’t get high?”
“Oh, I do.” He lifted his eyes from the book, his lips curving upwards, holding secrets that you wished you could unveil. “But not on cocaine.”
“‘Kay.” You flatly stared back, ignoring the way your heart palpitated uncomfortably. “What about you having tattoos on your dick?”
“What is wrong with these people?” He grimaced, both shocked and disgusted. “No.”
You held back a smile at his reaction. “Okay, this one is pretty dumb. Not sure if I want to ask you this.”
“Dumber than me having tattoos on my dick?” He snorted loudly. “I can take it.”
“Well, they said you killed three men and fed them to your dogs.” You grabbed your pen, scribbling something down on your papers so you wouldn’t have to be conscious of his gaze. “Like, I said, it’s dumb—”
“Dog.”
“What?”
“I only have one dog.” He leaned forward in his chair, his hands that were now placed on the table were just a few inches away from yours. His smirk grew wider. “Took her a whole week to eat everything but we gotta be careful not to leave evidence, you know?”
“It’s not funny, Steve.”
He chuckled, gathering his books in one arm with his bag slinging on his shoulder.
He placed a hand on your head, ruffling your hair once, and walked away toward the exit door. “It is to me, Sweetheart.”
***
Steve was not one to take it slow, you remember, which is way different from how your previous boyfriend did things with you.
It wasn’t like Steve was overly aggressive—as far as boys go, he was pretty normal about the whole dating and sex thing—but he just headed straight to the point whenever he had something in mind, whether it was by a sudden change of topic in your conversation, or acting it out directly with his body.
Steve loved to do everything out on a whim. You could be arguing about a movie on your way back from the cinema at one point, and ended up having your clothes soaked with water by the next hour because he just felt like it.
“Are we even allowed to come here at this hour?” It felt like trespassing when Steve unlocked the door that led to the huge swimming facility. Though the door wasn’t locked and there were no guards around, it wasn’t normal to enter the pool at one in the morning.
“Probably not,” Steve simply muttered.
“Then why are we here again?”
“‘Cause I feel like swimming.”
“Cause you feel like swimming?” You were just starting to complain when Steve suddenly let his leather jacket slip off his shoulders and took off his hoodie.
You couldn’t help but gawk at him, no matter how much you tried to slap yourself awake. Internally, you started complaining for an entirely different reason because why the fuck does he have to wear so many layers of clothes when he has those rippling, hairy abs underneath?!
“You coming?” Steve asked, already kicked off his boots and standing only in a pair of tight, black ripped jeans that were hanging dangerously low on his hips.
Perhaps he wouldn’t notice if you let your eyes wander a little bit to his V-lines and— “I’m totally fine with you staring at me, but let me know beforehand if it’ll take hours ‘cause I won’t be doing it for free.”
Okay, so he did notice.
You rubbed a hand to your face, feeling downright exhausted. “Just get this over with, Harrington.”
“Take off your clothes then.”
“No.”
“You’re not gonna swim with me?”
You stared blankly at him. “No.”
“Why not?”
“‘Cause I’m not an idiot.” And there’s no way I’m gonna stand next to you with you looking like that. “Besides, I didn’t bring any spare clothes with me.”
“You can just skinny dip, I won’t mind.” He actually said it like it was a natural option you could choose. “If you need a friend, I could take off my jeans for you too.”
Lord, do not tempt me. “No, Steve. I’ll just wait here and…” Say something smart, say something smart. “read a book or something.”
Steve snorted, about to break into laughter, causing you to feel ten times dumber. “Okay, whatever you say.” He stretched his arms widely above his head, and you had to look away because those muscles in his biceps were just begging for attention.
“Oh, before that,” Steve said, “Come here. I have something to show you.”
“If it’s your dick, I don’t want it,” you mumbled, walking closer to his spot as he pulled a pair of sunglasses from the pocket of his jeans.
When you were just an arm’s reach away, Steve grabbed you by the upper arm, spun you around without warning, and pushed you into the pool.
You were completely submerged underwater for a good few seconds, chlorine tasted bitterly on your tongue.
The second you had your head above the waterline, you were screaming out of your lungs, “Steve, you fucking ass! What would you do if I hit my head—”
He dove right into the water, head first, making huge splashes that felt like needles piercing your skin. You were coughing, swatting the hair out of your eyes.
“You need to learn how to relax,” Steve cooed, pushing his hair back. It was no longer tied, long brown hair framing his cheekbones.
His necklace, one that was shaped like a key, dangled around his neck. “Stop being so uptight. Just let go and be free.”
“You’re not being free, you’re being irresponsible,” you grumbled, still glaring at him but he only gave you a shrug before he floated on his back, closing his eyes with a tiny smile glued to his lips.
Knowing that there was no use in staying angry, you imitated him. Still in your black tee, blue jeans, and a pair of sneakers, you extended your arms to the sides and faced upward.
As the pool was located outdoors, the night sky was laid out right before you. The clouds were thin so you could see the stars shining behind them, surrounding a full moon. You stared wide eyed and slack jawed at the sky, immensely captivated.
“Pretty, isn’t it?” Steve said, sometimes moving his legs underwater just so he could close the distance. “Bet you feel dumb now for wanting to just sit there and read a book.”
“For the love of God, Harrington, just shut up.”
By the time your fingers were all wrinkled and you couldn’t stop shivering, Steve rose out of the water and bent down to offer you a hand.
“M’lady,” he said, going on one knee like a dutiful knight. You rolled your eyes though you could feel your cheeks burning as you took his hand.
“Here,” Steve handed you his hoodie. “Take your clothes off and wear this instead.”
“Umm, thanks…” When he saw the conflicted look on your face, he turned around, giving you a clear sight of his back.
“It’s okay, I won’t look.” He walked away, taking his jacket with him, and sat on the edge of the pool. He wore it back without having anything underneath it, a few droplets of water still rolling down his chest, his pendant sitting right above his heart.
After rummaging inside the pocket of his jacket for a bit, he took a cigarette out of the box and placed it between his lips. He lit it up, a cloud of smokes filling the air as he exhaled deeply.
“I didn’t know you smoked.” You quickly disrobed yourself from your clothes, pulling his hoodie down until it draped all over your body. He smelled fucking amazing, both sweet and masculine at the same time.
“There’s a lot you don’t know about me, honey.” He placed the cigarette between his lips again, sucking in his cheeks.
Steve waited until you tapped him on his shoulder before he spared you a glance. His eyes promptly did a double-take when he saw you wearing his hoodie and nothing else, as it was large enough to cover your body to your thighs.
You tried not to seem so flustered. “You’re staring again, dickhead.”
“I didn’t know it was a crime to stare.”
When you’re practically undressing me with your eyes, of course, it is! “I’ll return this to you after I wash it.”
“Don’t.” He stood up, releasing another cloud of smoke though he was considerate enough not to let it hit your face. “It looks better on you. You can wear it whenever I’m not around.”
You scoffed, looking away. “Why would I?”
His smirk was obscene, his cigarette tucked between his perfect teeth. “So you’ll think about me.”
***
You weren’t sure why you’d said yes to every nonsensical thing he invited you to do when you just barely knew him but Steve could be very persuasive. So dangerously so, that you would probably say yes to anything.
It was on your fourth date when he suddenly bent his head down and cut you in the middle of your sentence with a kiss. It was only a small peck, a quick pressing of his warm lips against yours, but it still managed to literally stop you from breathing for a good couple of seconds.
“Sorry,” he said, pulling away with his eyes still fixated on your lips. “I was… distracted.”
You knew it was lust in his eyes and you were familiar with yourself enough to know that you usually preferred to have your first kiss after you knew the guy for a certain amount of time.
But Steve—the way he sometimes stared at your lips for a millisecond while you were talking, or hugged you for a few seconds too long before you parted ways—really made you feel special. Made you feel… wanted. And it had been a long time since someone made you feel that way.
So it didn’t come too much of a surprise that when he dipped his head down to kiss you again, you responded with as much passion as he emitted. You didn’t care that both of you were still standing in the middle of your room’s hallway, though it was empty from how late it was.
You had your fingers tangled in his hair as you tiptoed and leaned your entire weight to his body, making him inhale sharply and curl his fingers around the fabric of your dress.
“Again,” he breathed when you pulled away for a split second and immediately brought you back to him. Steve had one arm around your waist and another one holding your face, angling your head to the side so he could kiss you deeper.
Steve was a good kisser—so frighteningly so that it made you feel conscious of how inexperienced you were compared to him. And with the way his hands were moving around your body, you could tell that things were going a bit too fast.
“Steve—”
The hand that you laid on his chest to give you both some space, was brought over your head as he pressed your body against the door of your room. He kissed you harder, almost knocking your head against the wooden surface, and you could taste the flavor of the lollipop he had on his way back to your dorm.
His scent was intoxicating in the best way possible, a hint of mint and bergamot and something else that you couldn’t get your head around but smelled so him. It numbed your mind from thinking how this could probably end up in a bad decision.
“Steve, wait,” you gasped against his mouth, and when he did, pulling away from you for a few inches to catch his breath, you noticed that even if you managed to stop him, you probably wouldn’t sound very convincing.
It was fortunate that although Steve was a man of passion, he still had the patience to make your consent his priority. “Too fast?” He asked, his warm breath fanning against your lips and you really wanted to just close those few inches between you and be smothered with his kisses again.
So you did, and you could feel him smirking into the kiss. The way he slipped his tongue between your mouth made your knees buckle underneath your weight so you clutched onto him, tighter and tighter. Steve formed this low grunt at the back of his throat that made your skin tingle in delight, knowing that you had that kind of effect on him.
But really, something still didn’t feel right.
“Do you want to stop?” He questioned, noticing how you fidgeted uncomfortably under his touch. He looked like stopping at this point would be the last thing he wanted to do but he still gave you the space you needed.
You nodded your head slowly at his question. Steve looked like he had to put his best effort to gain control of his body and move away from you, and you could relate at that point.
You weren’t sure why you even stopped him before. It just felt like the right thing to do but at the same time, it was the last thing you wanted to do.
“Steve—"
“I’m sorry,” he said, taking a step away from you and releasing you from his hold. You were surprised to know that you almost fell to the floor when he wasn’t holding you.
“No, don’t be—it was, umm,” You cleared your throat. The collar of your knitted sweater suddenly felt too tight. “It was good.”
“Good?” Steve repeated, smirking as he raised an eyebrow and you thought fuck there’s that look again and you cursed inwardly a few more times for feeling so whipped for his little, seductive eyebrow raise. “I thought that was more than good, baby.”
The little pet name he gave you came so naturally out of his mouth that it didn’t feel like it was the first time he said it. “Probably for you,” you wanted to tease but you could hear your voice crack at the end.
“Oh, really?”
And he kissed you again because he never wanted to lose his game. He knew he already had you wrapped under his fingers; he just wanted to make you succumb to him. To have you say how amazing his touches really felt on your skin because he was just that kind of a guy.
And he was winning.
Your reaction was exactly the way he wanted you to be, arching your back under his touch, pressing your chest against his, tongue darting out to taste the inside of his mouth better and longer.
“No, wait, timeout.” You pushed him away again and you noticed that his hair was a mess from the work of your fingers and weirdly enough, it only made him ten thousand times hotter.
“Babyyy, you’re torturing me.” He whined against your shoulder, playfully biting the skin over your clothes. “Do you want me to stop or not?”
“I’m sorry.” You were torn between feeling bad or laughing about it because my God, look at that pout. “Maybe a five-minute break? I could make you a strawberry smoothie. My parents are away for the weekend.”
He sighed, the pout on his lips grew even more apparent. “You’re inviting me to your room? At this hour? After this?”
“I’m not going to have sex with you tonight, Harrington, just to be clear.”
“Which is the more reason why you shouldn’t be inviting me over then!”
You laughed because his voice was becoming quite high-pitched. It was funny how the table had turned. Now that he knew how good it felt to have you in his arms, he was more attached to you, more demanding, losing his previous cool, nonchalant attitude.
“Are you so incapable of using your brain instead of your dick?”
“Jesus fucking—” He threw his head back in exasperation, which gave you the chance to ogle at the column of his throat. “Seriously, is torturing guys at the end of a date your sick hobby or something?”
“Look, if you stay over, we can still make out.” You threw a smirk at him, unlocked your door, and pushed it wide open. “And I make the most amazing smoothies, trust me.”
His scowl was mean but it had a hint of teasing behind it. “Fine,” he exhaled, walking into your room with a suppressed smile on his face.
“And I’m only here for a good strawberry smoothie, nothing more. Making out with you is just a bonus.”
And you found yourself giggling like a child as he cradled you into his arms and pushed you down to your bed because you both knew it was the other way around.
***
“So, like,” Robin asked one slow afternoon as she perched on the edge of the counter at Scoops Ahoy, a half-melted ice cream cone in hand, “you two are, like… officially a thing now?”
You almost choked on the waffle cone you were pretending to eat. Steve, on the other hand, leaned casually against the freezer, polishing a scoop with a rag, completely unfazed. His long legs stretched out under the counter toward yours as he looked up at her with that trademark smirk.
You froze, your mind scrambling. Did you want to be dating Steve? Of course you did. But did he? Or was this just casual? Just two coworkers goofing off, maybe making out behind the counter when nobody was watching?
You avoided Steve’s eyes, afraid he’d see exactly how flustered you were. “Robin, we—”
“We are,” Steve interrupted smoothly, like he was stating the weather.
You blinked twice. “W-we are?”
Steve tilted his head. “We’re not?”
“I—I mean,” you stammered, “You never asked me to be your girlfriend, so… I wasn’t, um, sure…”
“I kissed you, though?”
“Yeah, but I thought you were—” You swallowed hard, feeling your words falter under his gaze. “I thought you just wanted to keep it casual. Honestly, Steve, I didn’t think you were the kind of guy who’d actually do relationships.”
Steve frowned slightly, but then his eyes flicked to Robin, who was leaning against the counter with a smug grin.
“Well, she’s not wrong. You do look like you don’t want to be tied up,” Robin said, voice dripping with sarcasm. “Though, seriously, if you two end up actually together, I want full debriefs. Vickie and I need the play-by-play.”
“What do you mean?” His frown was turning into a scowl. “I love being tied up.”
“Not in bed, you dumbass,” Robin sighed, exasperated. “Being tied to one person, I mean.”
“I know, I was just kidding,” Steve snickered, and when you locked eyes with him, a spark of mischief danced in his gaze. “Being tied up, tying someone up. I’m always open to that.”
“Oh, Jesus.” Robin stood from her perch behind the counter, gathering her belongings even though her sandwich was only half-eaten. “I’ll leave you two alone ‘cause he’s being gross and it makes me uncomfortable.”
“Yo, Robin,” Steve called with a cheeky grin, still in his Scoops Ahoy uniform, before she could get too far. “Tell Vickie you like being tied up too. In both meanings.”
To your surprise, Robin shot her glare at you instead. “Shut him up for me, please?”
You waved awkwardly and gave her a small smile. She slipped into the crowd, leaving the two of you alone with an unfinished conversation you weren’t sure how to continue.
Robin’s voice shouted from somewhere behind the counter. “How about you both just do it in Steve’s uniform?”
You and Steve both froze, shouting at once.
“Robin!”
Her laughter rang through the shop as your cheeks burned.
“So…”
“So…” He echoed you, tilting his head slightly to the side and smiling innocently. “Should we just go along and make this official or do I have to go down on one knee and propose my love to you in front of these people?”
You gulped. “I didn’t know you were this shameless.”
“I just like making you blush, baby.”
That he did. You were so flustered, your ears were ringing. “Okay.”
“What?”
“I said, okay.”
“Okay as in we’re dating,” he sat up to lean across the table, hovering close to your ear, “Or okay as in you’ll let me tie you up in bed?”
You responded by stuffing his mouth with as many ice cream scoops as you could until he nearly choked.
***
It was a Sunday afternoon, probably about a month later, when Steve paid another unannounced visit to your room. Your parents were out for the night, leaving the house quiet and empty, and Steve had somehow sneaked in without ringing the doorbell.
You opened the widow just enough to peek at him. “Come in,” you said, trying not to sound too suspicious.
“You wanna make out first?” he asked, leaning casually against the window frame with that cocky grin of his.
“Grab your notebook first, Harrington,” you shot back, already knowing he wouldn’t.
Your room was exactly how a typical teenage girl’s room should be—walls painted soft bubblegum pink, shelves cluttered with trinkets and little knickknacks, posters of your favorite bands crookedly taped to the walls, and fairy lights draped lazily across the ceiling.
Your bed was covered in a fluffy comforter with piles of mismatched pillows, the perfect spot for someone like Steve to flop down and make himself comfortable.
You brought over a plate of snacks and a cup of coffee, setting them beside him on the bed. He took a sip and, as usual, made a dramatic show of complaining. “Sweetheart, I don’t want to sound ungrateful, but this coffee tastes like shi—”
It ended with a pillow smacked gently to his face, your own little way of keeping him in check.
You settled onto the carpeted floor at the foot of your bed, back pressed against the mattress, spreading your textbooks and notes around you. Steve sprawled across the bed above you, head hanging over the edge as he stretched lazily, completely at ease in your pink little sanctuary.
“Baby?”
“Hmm?”
“I’m bored.”
“Aren’t you supposed to work on your assignment?”
“Finished it already.”
You threw a glance over your shoulder, spotting him sprawled across your bed as if he owned the place. Steve had his notebook closed and was staring at you upside down, that lazy, bored expression plastered on his face. You knew he was clever, but you hadn’t realized just how sharp he could be when he actually focused.
“Well, that was fast,” you commented.
“No, you’re just doing it painfully slow.”
“Well, sorry for not being as smart as you,” you mumbled, even though you weren’t really annoyed about it. Steve huffed and walked closer, sitting closely right behind you and trapping you between his legs.
“You’re the smartest girl I’ve ever met, though,” he said, wrapping his arms around your waist. “What are you working on exactly?”
“I don’t even know, honestly,” you sighed, leaning against his chest and letting your head rest on his shoulder.
You pouted slightly, your hands drifting up to cup his cheeks, feeling the warmth of his skin beneath your palms. “Wanna order some pizza?”
Steve pressed a soft kiss into your palm, looking up at you with completely love-struck eyes. At that moment, he thought you were absolutely perfect—his dream girl in every way—and he couldn’t believe you were here, in his arms, smiling up at him like this.
“Can I eat you for dinner instead?” he blurted. Well there goes the romantic moment ruined.
“Was that a sex joke, Harrington?” you laughed at him.
“Could be, if you’re interested.” You could see him wiggling his eyebrows from his reflection on your standing mirror.
Both of you looked adorable if you could say so yourself, wearing a matching white shirt (though not on purpose) and enjoying each other’s warmth with Steve’s arms circled protectively around your figure. You sighed as you admired his features in the mirror.
“Have I told you how sexy you look with your hair like this?” You asked, reaching out to touch some of his stray strands and he followed your gaze, looking at his reflection in the mirror.
“Huh.” He seemed surprised. “It’s the first time you said that, actually. What else do you think is sexy about me?”
“Promise you won’t get cocky about it if I tell you?”
“Can’t. You know how I am.”
You sighed but you succumbed to his wish. He praised you from time to time, it was only fair for you to do the same. “The way you dance.”
His eyes widened in horror. “You saw me dance?”
“Hm-hmm.”
“W-when?”
“That time when we went to Rick’s party. You were dancing to Talking in—”
“Your Sleep by The Romantics,” he finished before he buried his face in the crook of your neck, scarlet painting his cheeks and ears. “Oh, Jesus. Well, that was embarrassing. I thought you were in the bathroom.”
“Well, I was going to but then I saw you and kinda had to stop and stare for a little. You dance more with your hips than with your hands, do you know that? It was kinda hot.”
And just like that, the flabbergasted look on his face was immediately replaced with that Godforsaken cocky smirk again. “Were you turned on back then because of me?”
“A little. Or maybe I just really had to pee.”
“You should’ve said something, you know.”
“And then what? Have sex with you in Rick’s parents’ room? No freaking way.”
“We could’ve used my car. My hips could do so much more than just dancing, you know.”
“You’re disgusting.” You elbowed him slightly on the stomach to stop him from giggling.
Steve smirked, sliding one arm around your waist and tugging you gently into his lap. “Alright then,” he said, leaning back slightly, “what else do you find sexy about me?”
You laughed, pretending to think seriously, tapping your chin. “Hmm… I like… how hairy you are.”
Steve blinked at you, then burst out laughing. “Hairy?”
You nodded, grinning. “Yeah! It’s kind of… hot. Remember that night we went swimming? You were all wet and—well, the chest hair… it gave you this… I don’t know, wild vibe.”
He laughed harder, shaking his head. “Wild vibe, huh? I can’t believe that’s what gets you going.”
“Heyyy, I didn’t make the rules,” you said, shrugging. “Maybe your name should be… Steve Hairy-gton.”
He laughed so hard he had to press a hand to your thigh to steady himself. Then he leaned down and kissed you, quick and teasing. “You are one cheeky girl,” he murmured, eyes sparkling.
You rolled your eyes, smiling into the kiss. “You’re impossible, Harrington.”
“And you’re beautiful, Y/L/N,” he said, smiling down at you, his eyes soft and full of something that made your heart skip.
You blushed and wriggled a little, pushing yourself lightly off his lap. “Now go away, Harrington. I, uh, actually have to finish my homework,” you mumbled, trying to sound serious but failing completely.
Steve had his chin on one of your shoulders. “Of course,” he said, but his hands did another thing. His fingers were slipping behind your shirt, playing with the skin below your navel.
You slapped his hand away. “I’m studying.”
“I am too.” You could feel the tip of his nose grazing the side of your neck, making you flinch slightly when his breath tickled your skin. “Studying your body, that is.”
“Again, you’re disgusting.” This time, you pressed your palm to his face, shoving him as far away as possible. “Just give me half an hour to finish this real quick.”
“Fine,” he exhaled loudly against your shoulder and you could practically feel his pout growing on his face. He didn’t let you go, though.
He settled behind you on the pink, fluffy rug, arms draped around your waist, his head resting gently on your shoulder. You had trouble concentrating with the way you could feel every time he took in a breath from how close his chest was pressed against your spine but eventually you got the hang of it.
You were already working on your third page when Steve suddenly had his lips on the side of your neck, lazily suckling on the skin until you could no longer ignore him.
“Steve.”
“Hmm?”
“What are you doing?”
“I’m playing a game,” he murmured against your skin, licking at the soft skin before he nibbled at it with his teeth. “It’s called how fast can I distract my girlfriend from working over a stupid assignment instead of spending time with me.”
“But I am spending time with you.”
“You know what I mean.”
And you had to bite your lip because he had a certain kind of pressure on his words that made your skin tingle in anticipation.
His lips were soft but scorching hot as he drew bruises on your skin and it felt so good and dangerous at the same time. It was like standing on a bridge made of glass, both exciting and terrifying.
“You know what I think is sexy about you?” He quietly said, one hand running down your body, slipping under your shirt, and hovering dangerously close to your bra. “The way you say my name when we kiss,” he continued, adding a soft moan when he latched his lips around your earlobe.
You shivered, feeling heat growing on your cheeks. “Steve—”
“Yes, like that,” he chuckled, his voice suddenly becoming deeper. “You’re so sexy, you’re driving me insane.”
You tried your best to ignore him, you really did. But the second he had his warm mouth against your lips, his fingers grabbing your face almost forcefully to turn you towards him, you just lost it and you found yourself crawling into his lap, tangling your legs around his waist and moaning against his mouth as he was against yours.
“Baby,” he sighed when you kissed down his neck as if your every touch was a gift that he craved more and more.
He shuddered slightly when you had your hand under his shirt and as if you just pushed the wrong button, he suddenly picked you up by the waist, shoved your textbooks away with one swipe of the back of his hand, and laid you down on the carpeted floor in one swift motion.
“If you keep doing that,” he breathed out heavily, eyes glazed as he stared at your kiss swollen lips. “I won’t be able to stop, even if you beg me to.”
You weren’t sure what came over you but you found yourself hooking your fingers around his necklace and brought his face down, whispering, “Then don’t stop,” directly against his lips.
It was all rush and passion and Steve was not wasting even a second away before he began to undress you, removing each clothing very easily and you secretly wondered just how many times had he done this before from how smooth he unclasped your bra with one flick of his finger.
He pulled his shirt over his head, his necklace hanging loosely around his neck.
“Tell me if I’m being too fast,” he said, before he climbed on top of you, throwing the piece of clothing away without a care.
Your heart jumped at the sight of him, knowing how this could lead to something more but couldn’t really stop him. Not with the way he had his hands reaching down from the valley of your breasts, down to your stomach, his fingers brushing above the hem of your jeans.
His kiss was always breathtaking, to say the least, but it was a bit different this time because it felt like he was losing control of himself.
His kiss was almost forceful, his teeth roughly nibbling at your lower lip before he moved down your chin and found his place in the crook of your neck again. His hand was on your chest, cupping you fully with his palm and let out this sexy groan when he felt you gasping his name against his mouth.
“Fuck, you’re just doing that on purpose now, aren’t you?” He hissed, eyes clouded with lust.
He peppered kisses down your chest, lips hovering above your nipple when he said, “You’re being cruel, sweetheart.” You were tugging at his dark locks when he placed it between his lips, sucking at the sensitive spot, and you tried to hold back your moan but failed every time.
Steve was giggling to himself, his tongue flicking around the bud. “The way you’re reacting to me is so cute. I didn’t know you were this sensitive.” He ran his tongue across his lower lip, staring at you like he wanted to ravish every part of you, which he probably did. “You’re so goddamn cute.”
“Steve.”
“Yeah?”
“I won’t be needing that kind of commentary ever again in the future, thanks,” you uttered, trying your best to focus on his touch and not his words because Steve could be annoyingly talkative sometimes.
He chuckled again, moving along to land a few kisses on your stomach. “If you’re that sensitive here, how sensitive will you be if I touch you right over…” He trailed a finger down from your belly button to the edge of your underwear.
His eyes twinkled gleefully before he rubbed your clit over your underwear. “…here?”
You gave your best strength to stay sane but Steve’s giggle over your reaction only tortured you even further. “Stop playing around,” you hissed under your breath, pretty sure that you were blushing from ear to ear.
“Playing?” Steve grinned tauntingly, “I’m being pretty serious, though.” He spread your legs, kissing the inner part of your trembling thigh before he hovered dangerously close to the point you could feel his breath down there.
You couldn’t help but gulp in anticipation and Steve knew that. He knew how much you wanted him to take off your underwear and eat you out like it’s his last meal.
But of course, being the little fucking devil that he was, Steve only threw you his usual smirk and said, “You know I’d do anything for you, right? You just gotta beg for it, baby.”
“No way.” You reciprocated by kicking him right on his abs because as desperate as you were, there was no way in hell you were going to grovel at his feet, begging for him to please you.
“All right, all right, I’m sorry, geez!” Steve said, laughing as he successfully dodged two of your first kicks. Soon after, he grabbed your moving legs, carefully placed them on his sides, and ran his hands slowly from your legs to your thighs.
He took a long glance at your body, sighing like it was some kind of beautiful torture for him to take. “You don’t even realize how hot you are, do you?” He leaned closer and grabbed you by your chin, locking both of your gazes together.
“Can you tell how hard I am right now because of you?”
It was a rhetorical question, clearly, because you could definitely tell how hard and hot he was pressing against you, even if his jeans and your underwear were still on the way.
“God, just—” you gasped when he slipped a knee between your legs, pressing it against your core. “Just stop being a fucking tease and fuck me already!”
And he grinned against your skin. “Fucking finally.” You heard him say under his breath before he carried you in his arms and moved you to the bed.
It felt somewhat scary, how fast he was being, because you had only experienced sex once and it was the painfully awkward kind of sex with your first school boyfriend and you didn’t really have the chance to practice it with anyone else while it seemed to you, at this point, was clearly not the case for him.
Steve had his eyes on you, all half-lidded with lust and passion, as he unbuckled the belt of his jeans and you had to gulp at the sight.
The muscles he had on his abs were insane, you almost forgot that he was just a normal student like you were. His shoulders were broad, his chest was toned, his v-lines were prominent and his tanned skin, as it glistened slightly with sweat, was just absolutely breathtaking.
“Enjoying the view?” He asked, and you knew how he’d always been cocky in his entire life, but he’d never been this cocky. “You’re practically drooling.”
“I am not,” you retorted but you lacked confidence. Steve grabbed a condom from the pocket of his jeans before he climbed back into the bed with his jeans unbuttoned.
“Why do you already have a condom with you?”
“Because I came prepared.”
“I thought you said you wanted to study.”
“Among other things,” he grinned against your lips and shushed down your next protest.
“You’re so gross, I can’t believe I’m dating you.” But even your insult couldn’t mask how nervous you sounded, especially when Steve was settling himself between your legs again, fingers hooking around your underwear.
“If you want me to stop, tell me,” he murmured, but the way he pressed closer made it clear stopping wasn’t really an option.
You swallowed hard, your pulse hammering in your ears. “Do whatever you want,” you whispered, barely audible, and Steve’s eyes darkened with hunger and anticipation.
“That’s my girl,” he said, grabbing your thighs and spreading your legs apart before he leaned in to taste your mouth again. “I’ll be gentle, don’t worry.”
You realized you were holding your breath when Steve wrapped the condom around his length and he had his eyes on you before he pushed in, asking with an unexpected low voice of his, “Ready?”
But he did not wait for an answer and you found yourself hissing when he pushed in, slowly at first and suddenly all at once.
You twisted your fingers against the bed sheet, biting your lower lip because it hurt trying to adjust to his size and Steve was a little bit lost in his thoughts, muttering, “Fuck, you’re so tight,” under his breath, slightly throwing his head back out of pleasure. “Baby, you’re so fucking tight, you know that?”
He leaned closer to you, chest pressing against your breasts as he mouthed against the skin of your shoulder and slowly began to move his hips.
“You all right?” He asked, making eye contact after a while and you shakily nodded your head, though the pain was still there. “Then, I’ll move faster.”
You almost hit your head when he suddenly picked up the pace, thrusting into you hard and deep; it knocked the breath out of your lungs. “Steve—” you could barely speak at that point, arms clutching tight to his back, nails raking against his spine.
“Fuck,” he uttered between heavy breaths as he sat on his knees, holding both of your legs in the air, almost splitting your body in half and pushed deeper.
“How the fuck do you feel this good, I—” he ended his sentence short, kissing your ankle instead, his eyes never leaving yours. “I wanna keep you—you’re so pretty like this—so fucking pretty—”
Steve was always good with his words but at that time, he was making incoherent noises at the back of his throat, jumping from one sentence to another as if he was thinking about several things at once and he was running out of time.
“Steve, wait—s-slow down—” You placed a hand on his shoulder, tears forming in your eyes. “You’re moving too fast—It hurts—”
Steve was unfocused, but the last two words that slipped from your mouth brought him back to reality.
He froze instantly, eyes wide and frantic as he searched your face. “Fuck, fuck, fuck… I’m sorry, I went too rough,” he whispered, panic threading his voice. “Does it hurt?”
You nodded slightly, your body trembling, and he softened immediately, cupping your cheek gently in his hand before he slowly pulled out of you. His thumb brushed over your skin as he leaned back just a little, breathing hard. “Shit… I didn’t mean to—”
You shook your head faintly, trying to reassure him, and he exhaled shakily, eyes filled with worry and relief that you were okay.
“I… maybe we should just stop,” he muttered, pressing a hand lightly against your waist, clearly torn between concern and desire.
“No,” you whispered, resting your hands on his face and looking straight into his eyes. “I want to continue… just on the bed, a bit slower.”
Steve’s gaze softened immediately, searching yours. “If you don’t want to, baby… we’ll stop. I mean it,” he said, voice low and earnest.
“I do want to,” you murmured firmly, holding his face in your hands. “Please… I want to.”
He exhaled, relief and longing mixing in his eyes. “Okay… okay, we’ll take it slow.”
Cradling you into his arms, he helped you settle onto the bed, keeping you close, protective. You could feel the heat of his cock beneath you, twitching subtly against your folds, and he stayed still, careful, as if every movement mattered.
“Take your time,” Steve murmured, pressing his forehead gently against yours. You could tell that he was trying to keep himself calm and composed even when all he wanted to do was to fuck you senselessly.
He pushed inside again, but let you take control of the pace this time. You slid down slowly, wincing slightly at the friction but it no longer hurt as much. Steve was staring at you the entire time, unconsciously licking his lower lip when you slowly began to bounce on his lap.
“Kiss me,” he demanded and you did, sharing his breath and his moans, and tangling your hands in his hair. When he felt your body relaxing against him, he grabbed you by the waist and suddenly thrust forward, making you gasp and clenched your legs together.
“Fuck,” he moaned under his breath, hissing at how perfect you felt around him.
“Please Steve, fuck me harder.” you couldn’t help but moan out.
“Shit, shit, shit — you can be mad at me as much as you want after this but for now let me just—” he groaned, furrowing his eyebrows at the feeling of him sliding in and out of you. “Just let me fuck you the way I want.”
And you found yourself thrown back to the bed with him thrusting into you deep and raw, faster and much more forceful.
His nails were sinking into your skin from how hard he was holding you by your hips, keeping you still as he rocked his hips forward as hard and as fast as he liked. Expletives were falling from his lips between his low grunts and breathy moans and you couldn’t help but sob a little at how strong he was going.
It felt painfully amazing, and you knew your body wasn’t making any sense.
“Touch yourself,” Steve whispered, sending a jolt of electricity through your veins.
“What?”
“Come on, baby,” he replaced his hand with yours, guiding your fingers to caress your sensitive nub. “I want to see how you touch yourself when I’m not around.”
“I’ve never touched—” The way he suddenly pounded harder into you stole a moan out of your mouth and he slapped a hand over your lips to contain the rest.
“You’ve never done it?” He swayed his hips excruciatingly slowly.
“N-no,” you breathed out heavily as soon as he released his hand. He rested his fingers against your throat, feeling the beating veins underneath your skin. “Have you?”
Steve didn’t answer right away, focusing back to where his palm was covering the back of your hand, guiding two of your fingers to rub against your clit.
You shuddered at the sensation, leaning further against his chest. “I have,” he confessed, breathing just as heavily as he listened to the little whimpers you made over the touch of your own fingertips.
“That night when you joked about me tying you up,” his breath felt hot on your nape, “I thought about holding you like this. Thought about how pretty you’d sound moaning my name. Thought about you touching yourself at the thoughts of me,” he grabbed your hips a little harder so he could slide his cock deeper inside.
“Thought about fucking you, baby—ah, yeah, just like this.”
Little by little, you were going insane. You could tell how much he wanted you from the way he spoke. It felt so good to be adored, to be pleasured, to be wanted like he never wanted anyone else in the world.
He noticed the way you chewed on your lip, trying to keep yourself mute. Steve groaned at the sight, wet lips and tongue painting your nape. “Fuck, seeing you like this turns me on even more.”
You clenched around him, causing you both to moan. “W-what are you, a pervert?”
“Yeah, probably.” His teeth grazed against your shoulder, sucking and nipping on the skin.
“So cute. The way you’re trying so hard not to get caught, biting your lip like that.” Without warning, he thrust harder, knocking the breath out of your lungs. “And you’re still letting out a moan no matter how hard you try. You’re so fucking cute.”
“Stop talking—” You just had to, knowing how irresistible his gruff voice and sinful moans were to your ears. His voice did wonder to your head as it sounded deeper and hoarser than usual, with breathy moans that caused the tiny hairs in your neck to rise in response.
He felt you squeezing harder around him. “You’re gonna come?”
Yeah, most likely, if you keep fucking me like this. “No, idiot, I can’t even focus—”
“Feels to me like you’re about to.” He simpered between heavy breaths. “It’s okay, baby, I’m close too.”
You could feel the knots inside your stomach tightened when he began to pick up speed, becoming slightly erratic.
He flipped you to your stomach, pushing your face against the pillow with his hand holding you down by the nape.
“Shit,” he grunted, throwing his head back in pleasure, reeling in the sensation of you squeezing tightly around him. “I can’t believe I spent two hours studying when I could’ve been fucking you like this.”
His hold around your hips was tight enough to leave bruises by the morning and you could only take short gasps as he slammed into you again and again, harder and harder each time. “I’m close,” he hissed, hips moving out of rhythm. “So fucking close.”
“Me too,” you choked out, fisting the edge of your pillow. “Steve, I—” Something—he just grazed something inside that made your thighs tremble, toes curling. “Oh, God—”
“Hitting the right spot?” He teased, a mischievous grin decorating his face. “So cute.”
“Shut up.”
“Why can’t you just be honest for once?” He leaned forward, fingers slipping between your strands, tugging gently at the roots to lift your head back.
“You gotta tell me when I make you feel good or,” he emphasized his next words with a slam of his hips, causing you to choke out a sob. “extremely good,” the little laugh he made was both sexy and irritating.
“Do that and I’ll take good care of you. After all, I’m here for your pleasure, Sweetheart.”
“Fuck me harder, just hurry up and fuck me—” It was embarrassing how desperate you became but he was just fucking you too good. “Steve, just finish it already—” You spread your legs wider, raising your lower half in the air for him and he kneaded your cheeks with his hands.
“Impatient, are we?” He slid himself out completely just to plunge back in, the sound of skin meeting skin, and his growl-like moans bounced off the walls and you were both being loud, you knew you were, but you couldn’t care. Not right now. The tide of feeling that was building inside you felt as familiar as it was foreign and one more, if he can just hit that spot one more time—
“Come for me, baby,” he ordered you and you were more than eager to comply as both of your orgasms washed over you making you see white everywhere.
You fell to the bed with Steve toppling on top of you almost immediately, chest heaving fast as he tried to bring back some air into his lungs.
“Holy fucking hell,” he said, breathing heavily at the juncture of your neck. “That was so good. This is probably the first time I—”
“Steve.”
“Oh right, shit!” He immediately jumped away, giving you some space, and gently placed his palm on the side of your face, checking your condition. “Are you okay? Are you hurt somewhere? Baby, was I too rough—“
You pinched him by the nose, glowering at him with the little strength you have left and you didn’t let go even if he was tapping frantically against the back of your hand, asking for time-outs before you broke his bones.
Well, he said you could be mad at him all you want. It was time for him to face your wrath and it was not going to be pretty.
***
It wasn’t long until your name became a famous topic to discuss around the hallway too and it felt weird yet exciting at the same time because it was true.
You were dating Steve Harrington. The Steve Harrington. And no matter how many times you had to convince yourself that it wasn’t solely your imagination, it still felt unreal.
Because Steve was shining like the sun, and you couldn’t really shine as bright.
It suddenly felt like high school all over again, back when you’d dated the Prom King, Trevor Mason, and people couldn’t stop whispering about you behind your back—comments about your face, your body, even the way you carried yourself—like nothing about you measured up to the legendary high school heartthrob.
It got so under your skin that you eventually had to break up with him, and for over a year, you couldn’t stop hating yourself for letting him get to you, for feeling weak.
Dating Steve was similar but different in the way he treated you. Trevor was too kind, not really saying anything back to anyone who said awful things about you and instead, just told you to not pay any mind about it.
Steve was much braver in saying the things that came to mind, so whenever he heard people talking trash about you, he would come up to them with words laced with venom.
It was kind of childish, the way he got worked up rather easily, and even more childish when he continued to pout and fume about it even after a whole day had passed.
“Seriously, I said I’m fine,” you once said to him, entering his old BMW after he opened the door for you.
“Well, I’m pissed off,” he said, unconsciously closing the door a bit too hard, making you flinch slightly. He walked to the other side of the car, sinking to his seat behind the wheel, and exhaled loudly.
“Steve.”
“What?” His tone was still a bit harsh, but you knew he didn’t mean to shout at you.
“Thank you for defending me,” you softly said, reaching out for his hand. “But at this point, you’re gonna be mad with literally everyone and anger does not look pretty on you.”
“Aren’t you pissed, though? They literally have no business whatsoever to—”
“I know.” You squeezed his hand. “Look, if it gets worse, we can always plan out something. There’s this perfect swamp I know.”
Steve couldn’t help but smile. Maybe he was right—that swamp thing could really be your thing. “You and your stupid swamp,” he muttered, shaking his head in amusement, before leaning in to press a soft kiss to your lips.
You pulled back slightly, a mischievous glint in your eyes. “Heyyy, keep that up and you’ll be one of the many bodies I’ve dumped there.”
Steve laughed, brushing a strand of hair from your face, his eyes sparkling with teasing affection. “I wouldn’t mind being killed by you, baby.”
summary: The secret history of your long and arduous relationship with Steve Harrington.
aka: the 5 times you pined over each other, and the time you actually did something about it
words: 17.6k (we're NOT gonna talk about it lol)
cw: explicit, smut, piv sex, flirting, making out, heavy petting, slight exhibitionism, oral (f receiving), fingering, marking, biting, steve harrington has a big dick, themes of infidelity/cheating (sort of), skipping out on dates, bad dates, steve steal-your-girl harrington, almost-kisses, jealous!steve, jealous!reader, possessive behavior, smoking, alcohol consumption, allusions to marriage but it's never actually mentioned, canon compliant, reader and steve are the same age, 5+1 things, songfic, angst, fluff, humor, hurt/comfort, pining, mutual crush, slow burn one shot, mild twist ending, begins in season two (1984) and ends in the 90s, high school, scoops ahoy era, family video era, waiter!steve, steve harrington (the eras tour), vignette, one instance of billy hargrove slander, original characters created for plot, inspired by i can see you by taylor swift, other taylor song inspo throughout bc i'm insane like miss swift
a/n: hi and welcome to ✨rose's mental breakdown✨ yes this song will be my number one on spotify wrapped bc i listened to it on a loop for five days straight while writing this. idk. anyways this is So Much and i'm tired of looking at it so if there are any mistakes i apologize. anyways whoever can point out the most taylor song references aside from the obvious titular one gets a doubloon
ALL OF MY WORKS ARE 18+ MINORS DNI
You brush past me in the hallway, and you don’t think I can see you, do you? I’ve been watchin’ you for ages, and I spend my time trying not to feel it…
Hawkins High, September 1984
He’s so pretty sometimes that it’s disgusting.
That’s really the only thing you think when you watch Steve Harrington sneak up on his girlfriend, Nancy Wheeler, and swoop her off the ground in front of her locker. From across the hall, your locker hangs open, your body turned halfway toward them so that you can pretend that you’re not staring.
You stare a lot.
It’s not exactly the hair, you think- everyone shits a brick about his hair, for some reason that you don’t understand. Yeah, it’s nice… but you like everything else about him, too. You like how sweet he looks when he laughs. You like the way that he holds himself and the way that he looks when he puts his hands on his hips and stands around like he’s directing the traffic around him. You like how much of a prince charming he is, really. It would surprise you if he doesn’t win prom king at the end of the year. They already call him King Steve, it’s not too far of a stretch.
You close your locker just as Steve kisses Nancy, in front of god and everybody in the C Corridor hallway. Steve’s arms wrap around Nancy’s petite frame and he dips her, like they’re in some sort of George Peck and Audrey Hepburn movie. Not that the place is much of a cinematic setting, though. Down the hall, the science rooms are doing their dissection units, so the whole place smells like formaldehyde and disinfectant, and you sort of feel like curling up into one of those dissection pans and dying, yourself.
That should be me, your brain screams. Me!!
It’s always been like this. You’ve had a crush on Steve since freshman year- the fact that he’s dating Nancy, who’s a year younger than him, doesn’t escape your jealous mind. You’ve been in classes with him for four years, you’ve admired him quietly, you’ve hoped and prayed that he somehow noticed you noticing him.
You don’t think he knows you exist. Four years- and now you’re both seniors, about to graduate, and he still doesn’t notice you. You should really stop caring, or stop trying, or stop… pining. Or something.
You hike your bag up onto your shoulder and juggle your books in your arms. The bell rings, and quite suddenly the entire hallway erupts into pandemonium (predictable, sure, considering everyone loiters around instead of actually getting to class on time). Kids fly around you in all directions to get to their next classroom. Nancy Wheeler ducks away from Steve Harrington, avoiding yet another kiss.
God, you wish you could kiss him.
Someone slams into your shoulder from behind, muscling past you to get to science lab 5, rat central. Your binder slips out of the stack of books in your arms and clatters loudly to the ground, just as someone walks past and kicks it across the floor.
“Fuck,” you spit, chasing after it. The back of your neck feels hot. For the first time in four years, you hope to god that Steve Harrington doesn’t notice you.
You duck around people’s legs, trying to grab at your binder, while not trying to drop any more of the books in your arms. Loose papers are starting to fall out of the binder as it skitters across the floor, and this is becoming more and more of a comedy of errors by the minute.
Your fingers just brush the corner of it before someone kicks it again.
“Do you mind?” you snap as they walk away, not even looking in your direction. Crouched close to the floor, you don’t matter. Maybe you could count that as a blessing, considering you don’t want to be perceived right now.
You finally just throw away all dignity and crawl across the tile floor- disgusting and dirty and covered in sandy grit, as though it hasn’t been cleaned all year- to get to your binder.
And you come face to face with a pair of white Nike’s. Ones that you know way too well, because you’ve stared at them every time they’ve passed you in the hallway.
Nonononono- You clench your jaw and then look up, way up, to find Steve Harrington towering over you.
He looks like he was about to just step around you, but then he notices you gazing up at him from all fours, and his hazel eyes lock on yours. You blink at each other for a second before he flushes, a pink blush breaking out on his cheeks and crawling up his neck, and he looks away quickly, but crouches down to grab your binder before your hand can land on it.
“Sorry,” Steve says quietly, gathering up the couple papers that had started to slide out of the folders inside. You sit back on your heels, your blood rushing in your ears, mortified. His big hands gently poke the papers back into the folder as they should be before he hands it to you. “Looks like you’re gonna be late to class.”
You scoff. “Look who’s talking.”
Steve’s eyes find yours again, and he’s finally so close to you that you can admire the little bit of green in them. You’ve never been close enough to notice before.
He cracks a lopsided smile, one that he uses to charm people, you know- you’ve seen him use it on teachers and cute girls alike. “I’m always late to the party. But I get there, eventually.”
“I hope so.” He cocks his head at you. He doesn’t know the real meaning to your words- or, at least, you don’t think he does.
I hope you don’t stay oblivious forever, Steve Harrington. I hope you get there, eventually.
You take your binder from him, but you pull your eyes away from his a bit later than you properly should. “Thanks, Steve.”
You get up and take off toward your next class, walking quickly so that you don’t come off like you’re lingering too long. But, halfway down the hall, you look over your shoulder at him.
Steve hasn’t moved, still crouched down close to the floor, with his head bent like he’s deep in thought. With his back to you, you can still see the pink flush on the back of his neck, peeking out above his collared shirt.
‘Cause I can see you, waiting down the hall from me, and I can see you up against the wall with me. What would you do? Baby, if you only knew that I can see you…
Hawkins High, April 1985
Prom season sucks. Always has, and always will.
Maybe it was your fault for hoping that Logan Sawyer, popular prick extraordinaire, was serious about wanting to take you to prom. He seemed serious enough, stopping by your locker during passing period and leaning over you as he asked you, his mega-watt smile making you blush. You’d counted yourself lucky- you didn’t think anyone was going to ask you, and people aren’t allowed to go to prom stag.
It took Logan two weeks to find a prettier girl to go with, though. You don’t know why it hurts so much. Maybe it’s because you wanted to believe that you were someone’s first choice, but it never quite seems to turn out that way.
You wipe your tears in the mirror, scowling at your puffy, bloodshot eyes. The bathroom next to the girls’ locker room in the sports wing is completely deserted at this time- the boys’ gym class is in session now, and you’re cutting into your lunch time, but you really don’t want to have to go and cry at a lunch table, in front of a bunch of your bitchy peers, who will inevitably make fun of you for it.
Sniffling, but slightly more composed, you head out of the bathroom. The sports wing is ridiculously bigger than any other wing of the school (typical of American public schools, to prioritize sports over every other department). The wing boasts weight training rooms, dance rooms, three separate gymnasiums, and a door directly to the football field, with the locker rooms on the farthest end to allow for easy access to the field. Connecting all of these rooms is the longest corridor in the building, which seems to run for half a fucking mile.
You’ll have to walk that half mile, because in order to get to the cafeteria, you’re gonna have to traverse the entire building. You might not get to eat much today, but it was a sacrifice you were willing to make. Maybe Mrs. Marshall will be kind enough to let you snack on a granola bar in your next class period.
Halfway down the long hallway, you feel the angry sting of tears behind your eyes again, and your face screws up in frustration. You stop, turning halfway back toward the girls’ bathroom, wondering if you should just go back in and allow yourself to cry some more.
Suck it up, you think to yourself, smacking at your tear stained cheeks. He’s not the guy you really want to ask you to prom, anyways.
You press your fingertips into your eyes to relieve the sting of tears, taking a deep breath. Being in high school is driving you crazy. At this point in the year, the teachers have given up teaching, the students have given up learning, and you’re basically just biding your time in a glorified babysitting service until you can inevitably grab your diploma and get out of here. You can’t wait for that time to arrive.
A door opens further down the hallway, in the direction of the cafeteria. You wipe your nose once and keep moving in the direction you were going, not wanting to draw attention to yourself, standing in the middle of the hallway having a breakdown.
Moving forwards, you keep your eyes on the ground. Once you hear the door that had been opened slam shut again, you figure that whoever it was has moved on down the hallway, and you lift your eyes again.
They have not, in fact, moved on. And you suddenly have the urge to turn and fucking run back into the girls’ bathroom, because Steve Harrington is bent over at the drinking fountain, directly outside the boys’ weight room.
What the fuck, what the fuck. You suck on your teeth, trying not to falter in your stride. Maybe he hasn’t seen you, and you can just pass him up. It’s fine, he hasn’t seen you crying.
Your mind backtracks to the beginning of the year, you fumbling your binder all the way across the hallway and ending up right in front of him, crawling toward him. Looking up at him and probably, most definitely, making him really uncomfortable.
You have English class together, where you sit at the desk closest to the door. He comes in late almost every day, so he passes by you every time. Some days he looks at your desk. On good days, he meets your eye. But he hasn’t spoken to you since that day in September, and you really shouldn’t hold out hope that he will.
You definitely don’t want him to notice you when you’ve been crying, your face is a mess, your hair is limp and you look bedraggled. You just want to fade into the background of your next class with whatever snack you can get from the cafeteria snuck into your bag, so you can stress eat it without any guff from a teacher (like you aren’t 18 and capable of deciding when you are and aren’t allowed to eat).
You keep your eyes down. If you don’t look at him, he doesn’t exist.
Except, Steve Harrington always exists, in the back of your mind, and in your periphery. He is impossible not to notice, as per usual. He really just draws the eye like a magnet. Try as you might, your eyes keep flicking up to take stock of him.
He’s wearing a uniform gray P.E. shirt and gym shorts that don’t leave a lot to the imagination, and you fixate on his thighs more than you should. He has sweat dripping down his neck, wetting his hair on the sides of his face and the seam of his shirt. It shouldn’t be attractive. He shouldn’t be attractive. With his face a mess. And his hair limp, and looking bedraggled. Truly, you make a priceless pair, being the only two people in the hallway.
We’re perfect for each other, a voice says in your head. And you manage, for the first time in an hour, to crack a smile down at your shoes.
He finishes getting his drink at the fountain, and you figure that he’ll just go back into the weight room and not see you. But, of course, luck is not on your side.
Steve Harrington looks at you. And you look away, quickly, acting like you hadn’t been staring at him. And in your periphery, again, you see him stretch his arms over his head, and then turn and lean against the cinderblock wall beside the door to the weight room, with his hands on his knees as though he’s catching his breath.
You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.
He does it so casually, and with the way he’s sweating and his face is flushed, you’re sure that he probably does just want to take a break before going in and lifting more weights. But something in the back of your mind says that the maneuver was too purposeful, immediately after he laid eyes on you.
It could just be wishful thinking on your part. You heard through the grapevine that Steve and Nancy Wheeler broke up in a nasty way just before winter break, and it doesn’t seem like he’s been interested in anyone since. He hasn’t dated anyone, hasn’t flirted with any girls or showed up at any parties. Nancy must have really broken his heart.
You know too well what that feels like, right now.
Nearing where he leans against the wall, you keep your head down and you plan on just passing by without any acknowledgement from him, same as it ever was. If he’s still carrying a torch for Nancy, you’re sure that he doesn’t want anything to do with you. You’ve nearly convinced yourself of it.
But then you hear your name called quietly, and it nearly makes you jump. You look over at him, thinking you’re just hearing things, but you look directly into a pair of hazel eyes again, and you feel yourself rocketing back in time to September.
You didn’t even think he knew your name.
You slow to a stop. It would be rude not to stop, right? “Uh… hi, Steve. You good?”
Steve Harrington looks you up and down, while he leans against the wall and breathes a bit heavily, like he’s out of breath. He peers at you through long eyelashes, looking impossibly inviting despite everything; the setting, your appearances, the way that you feel like dissolving into a puddle right in front of him. “Yeah, great. You?”
He’s scrutinizing your face now. You shrug, since he’s already seen you, and there’s no way to pretend you weren’t crying thirty seconds ago. “I’m fine. Just being dramatic, don’t worry about me.”
“When people say not to worry about them, it usually means that you should,” Steve muses. He looks coy, like he’s speaking from experience.
You sigh, stepping forward to get your own drink from the drinking fountain. “Logan Sawyer called off our date for prom.”
“Oh.” Steve pauses for a few seconds, watching as you bend down and take your drink, more silent than he usually is. “I mean… that really sucks. I’m sorry. But… Logan Sawyer?”
“Yeah.” You wipe your mouth, and then wet the ends of your fingers and use the cool water to rub at your stinging eyes again. When you’re done, you lean up against the wall beside him, letting your back settle into the cinderblock.
“The guy’s a fucking douche.”
“Tell me about it.”
“No, I mean it, I think it’s a good thing you’re not going to prom with him. He’s really shitty to girls.” You look up at Steve, who’s watching you with his arms crossed, with the most serious expression you’ve ever seen him wear. “I mean, the only guy worse than Logan is probably… I dunno…”
“Billy Hargrove?”
Steve laughs. Actually laughs. You’ve wanted to make him laugh like that for four years. His cheeks turn crimson and he grins down at his shoes, snickering like there’s way more to the joke he’s laughing at than you even know about. “Yeah. Yeah, he’s gotta be the worst.”
You chuckle, albeit with a sadder tone than he has. “Well, I’m not going to prom with either of them. So, I can count my blessings. I guess.”
Steve frowns, and he looks like he’s going to say something else, but you’re already turning away, not wanting to continue the depressing conversation about your lack of dates. Especially not from the one guy who you desperately want to go on a date with.
You get a few steps away before he takes a step after you, saying, “Wait. You, uh-”
You stop, and look back at him. He looks dumbfounded, his arm outstretched like he was going to try to grab you if you didn’t listen to him. When you frown, he steps back against the wall, bringing his hand up to run through his hair.
Oh . That’s a nervous tick. You know it, because you’ve watched him do it more than once in English, in front of the class during a presentation.
Steve looks down at his shoes, his brow scrunched in thought. He looks like he’s really trying to find the right words to say. In your head, a hopeful part of you imagines what those words could be. ‘Will you go to prom with me?’
Finally, he looks up at you resolutely. “You’ll find someone to take you to prom. I’m sure of it.” He nods a little, like he’s reassuring himself that he said the right thing.
You can’t help the smile that springs onto your face. It’s incredulous, of course, but he can’t know that. Keep trying, baby. You’ll get there, eventually.
“Thanks, Steve.” It’s the second time you thank him in the course of the year.
But what would you do if I went to touch you now? What would you do if they never found us out? What would you do if we never made a sound?
Prom Night, May 1985
The dress you’re wearing is sleek and a lot simpler than some of the more popular styles on the dance floor, but you like it more than you care to admit. You’d just grabbed it off the rack at Macy’s, and beyond that you didn’t want to go all-out for prom. It turns out that your lab partner, Gavin Connelly, needed a date, too. So, you’re here with him, because you knew that if you missed prom, you would probably regret it.
Except, well.
Gavin, stoned out of his fucking mind, is sitting at one of the tables, nursing a cup of punch, looking like he’s two seconds from falling asleep. You’ve taken to making the rounds and saying hi to anyone you can call a ‘friend,’ because you’re tired of just loitering next to him. Something tells you he didn’t want to even be here.
The speakers are playing ‘Total Eclipse of the Heart,’ and couples are swaying on the dance floor in a Bonnie Tyler-induced haze. At a loss for people to bother, you wander back over to your date to find his head plastered to the white table cloth.
You glance to the guy sitting next to him, a kid with glasses who you don’t recognize but who seems to know your date, because he’s just patting Gavin’s back. “Is he okay?”
“Oh, no, he’s dying.” The kid shoots you a sarcastic smile.
You nod, pressing your tongue hard to the roof of your mouth. “Well, if he wakes up, tell him I’m getting some air.”
Fuck this. Fuck prom. Fuck high school boys.
Your heels, which are killing your feet already, click loudly on the tile hallway floor as you exit the gym. The table where you can check your bag and coat are located at the other end of the hall, where everyone is supposed to enter through the door to the football field.
You can hear voices from the far end of the hall, and Bonnie Tyler’s voice fading out the further you get from the gym. You might never be able to hear that song again without thinking of your ruined slow dance opportunity.
As you pass by, someone coughs off to the left and you turn your head to see Steve Harrington, black tie and all, loitering in the shadows. You stop a few feet from him and squint into the dark.
You can’t believe it. He always seems to show up at the worst times. “What are you doing, skulking around?”
“I’m not sulking.”
You snort, stepping into the shadows with him. “No, skulk- like, sneaking around?”
“Well, I didn’t mean to sneak-” he looks over his shoulder at the gym entrance. “I’m just getting some air.”
“Funny,” you murmur. “I was just about to do the same thing.”
He eyes you, a lot like he did a few weeks ago in this same hallway, further up toward the other end of it. He takes in your hair, styled painstakingly to ‘perfection,’ or as close as you could approximate it, and your off-the-rack department store dress. You suddenly feel like you aren’t as pretty as you thought you were at the beginning of the night.
But then he meets your eye, and all those insecurities fade into the back of your mind. He’s smiling at you, and that can only be a good thing.
“So, uh…” Steve leans back against the wall, his hands in his pockets, “You found someone to take you?”
You press your lips into a tight line. You don’t really want to think about your date right now, but- “Gavin Connelly.”
“Who?”
You laugh, kicking the heel of your shoe against the ground with a soft clack. “Yeah. God, I wish I didn’t know him right now.”
“Why, what’d he do?” Steve sounds perturbed. You look up to find him scowling already.
“Oh, he just ate a pot brownie before he picked me up and passed out at one of the tables.” You finish with a tired giggle, shrugging at Steve as he peers at you with an annoyed expression. “Who did you bring?”
“Kelly Palmer.”
You know Kelly. She doesn’t say much, but she’s gotten a scholarship to a big art school. “Do you like her?”
“Yeah, she’s nice,” he says mildly. Unconvincingly.
You can understand the subtext. She’s not Nancy. When you look at his face, he seems tortured in the low light coming from down the hall.
“Guess I’m oh-for-two,” Steve adds after a pause. “Last year’s prom, Nance and I didn’t have such a good time, either.”
You nod. It seems like there’s more he wants to say, but he doesn’t. “I’m sorry,” you offer. You don’t know the ins-and-outs of Steve and Nancy’s relationship, aside from watching them suck face in the hallway five paces from you for a year and a half. “Prom sucks. High school sucks. These can’t be the best years of our lives, trust me.”
“Yeah, I hope not.”
“I just can’t wait to get out of here, you know,” you grumble, allowing your sour mood to come out a little more than normal. It seems like Steve is just really good at getting you to let your guard down. “I’m planning to go to Chicago for college. This is all just… you know, it’s just the starting point. What about you, any big plans?”
“Dunno. I didn’t get accepted to any schools, so I’ll just be getting a job here in town until something better comes along.” Steve shifts, his heel hitting the wall behind him. He looks disappointed when he says, “I think I made too many mistakes.”
You frown, chewing on your lip. “What do you mean?”
He gives you a heavy look, like he’s gearing up to say something important, something game changing- and then his gaze softens.
“You’ve got an eyelash.” He gestures to his own eye, like it’ll make you understand exactly where the loose one is on your face.
“Oh.” You falter, lifting your manicured hands and wiping at your undereyes. “Did I get it?”
“No, uh- here, I can-” Steve tentatively reaches forward, and you step toward him to let him touch your face.
Steve Harrington is touching your face.
His fingertip brushes your cheekbone, so featherlight you would barely feel it if you weren’t hyper aware of everything that he said or did. His touch glides across your cheek and toward your temple, and then he seems to keep it there, his hand hovering just over your skin.
Reflexively, your hand comes up to rest on his shoulder. You’re inches from Steve’s face, your eyes falling to his lips.
You could kiss him. You could live your fantasy, right now.
Steve’s gaze lingers on your face for a moment, and then he says, “You’re so beautiful.”
Your heart lurches in your chest. He doesn’t say that you look beautiful. He doesn’t say it conditionally, like it’s just for tonight. You are beautiful. Even when you’re crawling on all fours after your binder. Even when you’re crying, and your hair is limp, and you look bedraggled.
“Steve…” you whisper, inching closer to him.
“STEVE??!”
You jump away from him like he’s burned you, and peek around the hall corner to see Kelly Palmer standing outside the gym looking up and down the hall, searching for him. She looks lost, and sad, like he must have ditched.
She looks an awful lot like you just did, coming out of that gym.
You feel Steve’s hand where it had fallen to your wrist, dragging your attention gently back to him. You take his hand and squeeze it once, giving him a tight smile.
“You brought her here for a good time,” you say with your bravest smile. “Just don’t pass out at one of the tables on her, okay?”
Don’t be a douche. Don’t be like Logan Sawyer.
Steve swallows, and gives you a short nod. You think he finally got there.
You give a soft pat to the lapel of his suit jacket. “Go get ‘em, tiger.”
He touches your arm one final time before he slips around the corner, just as Kelly turns to go back into the gym. You watch him walk away, and you think to yourself, That’s the last time I chase after Steve Harrington.
Wherever there is, it’s not with you.
Steve loops his arms around Kelly’s waist and lifts her, earning a thrilled squeal as the silver taffeta of her dress glints blue in the light from the gym. You wait until they’ve disappeared back into it before you turn and high-tail it toward the coat check table.
And we kept everything professional, but something’s changed, it’s something I like. They keep watchful eyes on us, so it’s best if we move fast and keep quiet…
Starcourt Mall, June 1985
“Come on, it’s ridiculously hot outside,” your best friend, Shelly, groans as she pulls you along by the wrist. “I can’t believe they only have one ice cream place here.”
“I’m sure they have slushies at the-”
“Ice. Cream.” You know better than to argue with her.
Scoops Ahoy has a novelty nautical theme that makes you want to both laugh and break down in tears when you see it. The PA is playing a cutesy rendition of Drunken Sailor on accordion, and you think that if you keep looking at the striped wallpaper behind the counter, you might get literally seasick. In the mall. In landlocked Indiana.
Or… is it landlocked if it fronts Lake Michigan? It doesn’t matter. You’ll be in Chicago in two days, anyways.
You let Shelly drag you along until you look towards the front counter, and you see something that nearly makes you trip and face plant into Shelly’s fresh perm.
Even Shelly pauses. “Is that who I think it is?”
It’s something about the stupid little sailor’s cap and shorts, and that he’s so, so pretty in it, you think. It’s also something about how you have the perfect vantage point to watch him try and fail to flirt with the girl that approaches the counter to order. You’re enamored with him. There’s no other way to describe it.
You have half a mind to run away, after what you promised yourself on prom night over a month ago. You’d done good, you didn’t search for him in the halls, you ignored him in your last couple of class periods with him. You’d even been in the bathroom when his name was called at graduation.
But, here he is. Steve Harrington, absolutely obliterating his chances of getting a date with the girl ordering a sundae ahead of you.
Honestly, you don’t know what you’re waiting for. Maybe an invitation? A sign from god that today’s the day that you’ll make a move? Or maybe this is just a test of will.
You stop resisting Shelly’s attempts to drag you along, and straighten your spine. You can do this. Four years’ worth of pining won’t make a difference in whether or not you order a strawberry ice cream cone.
He’s even prettier up close, his rosy cheeks framed by sunkissed, wavy hair. When he sees you he stalls, going a bit wide-eyed and then seeming to realize he’s supposed to do his job. He leans heavily against the counter. “Ahoy, ladies! Would you like to set sail on this ocean of flavor with me? I’ll be your captain, Steve Harrington.”
“Uh-huh.” You stare at each other for a long moment. “How much do they pay you to recite that script?”
“Absolutely nothing, I do this for pure enjoyment.” You’re almost sure that he doesn’t. He pauses, a hand poised on his hip. “Too much?”
“I’d dial it back just a smidge. Maybe keep the ahoy and the captain thing and toss the rest.”
“Noted.” He nods slowly, his eyes fixed on you. “I thought you were going to Chicago?”
“I leave the day after tomorrow,” you shrug. “Still time for me to burn the place down, you know.”
“Well, I’m glad you stopped by,” Steve chuckles. “I could show you where the gas line is, then we’d all be in trouble.”
“Oookay.” Shelly gives you a curious side-eye, and then turns back to Steve. “Well, I’ll have a U.S.S. Butterscotch with a chocolate dipped waffle bowl, if you don’t mind.”
Steve tears his eyes away from you long enough to grin at Shelly. “Coming right up. And for you?”
You freeze, glancing up at the menu. It’s written in an infuriatingly cutesy code-language that you have to decipher. “Um. I’m still deciding.”
“All right, then. Just let me know, when you’re ready.”
Steve slips away to make Shelly her sundae, a heaping pile of ice cream and butterscotch syrup that looks like the fast track to a heart attack. You alternate between trying to comprehend the menu and being distracted by Steve in that stupid sailor’s uniform.
The script on the menu may as well be written in a foreign language. Blackbeard’s Delight. Treasure Island Turtle. U.S.S. Sherbet. The sizes are even harder to understand. Fathom. League. Nautical Mile. You don’t have the capacity to decipher it- your eyes are seeing the words, but your mind is traveling back to prom night, and feeling Steve’s finger on your cheek as you gear up to kiss him.
“Are you ready?”
“Mhm…” It takes you a second to zone back into the present moment, where Steve is standing in front of you, on the other side of the counter, waiting to take your order. He waits, with a patient smile on his face, while you blink dumbly at him.
What did you say? What did he say?
“I… um.” You’re sure you look completely out of it. Your eyes flick nervously up at the menu, that you still can’t fucking read. Shelly’s already gone to sit down with her sundae, the traitor.
“It’s kind of hard to understand, isn’t it?” Steve says quietly after a moment, dropping the phony customer service charade. “I hate it. I think we should just be able to say what our favorite ice cream flavor is and be done with it.”
“Yeah,” you murmur, still squinting up at the menu. Blackbeard’s Delight: blackberry swirl with blueberry syrup and a gold doubloon. “The fuck is a doubloon?”
Steve snorts, and reaches under the counter before bringing back a handful of gold foil-covered chocolate coins, which he dumps into your outstretched hand. “You want more? We get them wholesale.”
“I’m good,” you giggle, juggling the chocolate coins before they go cascading to the floor. “I think… I don’t… I don’t understand a thing on that menu.”
“What’s your favorite flavor of ice cream?” He leans forward to ask you, like it's a secret. Just between the two of you. His head bent a little to peer at you closely, so close that you can count the freckles on his skin.
You glance over your shoulder. Shelly is seated by the far wall, under a painting of a kraken, giving you an indignant look. When she notices you looking, she mouths an emphatic, ‘LET’S GO!’
“Don’t tell anyone,” you whisper, and Steve affects his gravest expression as he nods. “Strawberry.”
“A classic,” he grins. “Fan of sprinkles?”
“I can dig a few sprinkles.”
“Perfect. I think we have something up your alley.” He grabs a scooper out of the bin and twirls it once, just to show off. “Sex on the Beach.”
“What?” You don’t remember seeing anything about that on the menu.
He glances up to smirk at you before shrugging. “It’s strawberry ice cream with peach syrup. You’ll see.”
You keep an eye on his hands behind the glass partition, watching them put two scoops of strawberry into a medium sized carton. Completely unable to rein in your thoughts before they get away from you, you’re thinking about how good they would feel under your shirt. You follow a treasure map of freckles trailing up his arms, disappearing under the blue sailor’s shirt he wears. You want to kiss every single one of them.
You finally reply, “I guess I have to put my faith in your professional ice cream slinging abilities.”
“Oh, haven’t you heard?” Steve mutters sardonically as he squirts peach syrup across the two scoops of ice cream, giving it a golden sheen. “I’m the king of cream.”
You purse your lips as it takes Steve a second to realize what he just said. When he does, he snaps his head up to meet your eye in horror.
He opens his mouth to take it back, but you shake your head, holding back laughter. “Don’t ruin it.”
“I think it’s pretty much ruined already.” He turns crimson, blushing down at the half-made sundae as he rapidly shakes yellow sprinkles onto it. “I was doing so good, too.”
“Who says you aren’t still?” You give him a cute smile when he looks up through his lashes at you, still arranging toppings on the sundae. You’re not sure what happened between prom and now to change him so much, but it’s almost as if he’s… goofy. He’s less concerned with appearances, he’s more laid back and willing to make fun of himself.
You like it a lot.
You watch him plop two maraschinos onto one ice cream mound, and wedge a candied orange slice into the other, inverted, to look like a setting sun. As he passes it over the counter to you, he says, “Here you go, one Sex on the Beach. On the house.”
“What? No, I couldn’t-”
“I mean it. For overlooking my stupidity,” Steve insists. He gives you a meaningful look when he adds, “A million times over.”
“I’m not overlooking anything when it comes to you, Steve,” you tell him fondly, and drop one of the doubloons into the tip jar. It’s gaudy, gleaming artificially gold in the middle of the crumpled up dollar bills. “Hang onto that. You might be able to cash it in for a kiss someday.”
Steve blinks rapidly, leaning across the counter as you walk away. “After you come back from Chicago, right?”
You look over your shoulder, and you wink at him.
When you finally stop in front of Shelly, and you use your plastic spoon to dig into the adorable sundae that Steve crafted for you, you remember that you’d gone up to the counter with every intention of ignoring Steve and acting like you didn’t even know him.
You winked at Steve Harrington. You said you’d kiss him. You think back to the girl who was so afraid of Steve even noticing her, almost a year ago, and wonder where she went.
You look down at Shelly. She’d graduated a year before you, so she wasn’t there to witness every blunderous interaction you’d had with Steve in school. You never told her how in love you were with him.
Now, she looks up at you coyly. “So. Steve Harrington, huh?”
“Shut up,” you grunt, looking up and out at the food court outside of the Scoops Ahoy storefront. “As if you know everything.”
“Are you gonna try to make something out of that…” she gestures vaguely with her spoon toward the counter, “before school starts?”
“I don’t think it’s a good idea,” you say honestly, still poking at your sundae. “Anyways, I leave too soon for anything to really happen. What- I screw him tomorrow and then fuck off forever? It’s just wishful thinking, probably.” You finally take a bite of the ice cream, just to punctuate your sentence.
“Hm. Probably. How is that?” Shelly nods at the ice cream in your hand. “Looks pretty.”
“It’s the best thing I’ve ever tasted.” You’re being honest. Something about the peach syrup with the strawberry base literally evokes the flavor of a sunset. “They should give him a raise.”
Humming, Shelly stands and takes her half-eaten sundae. She nudges you in the direction of the door. “C’mon. We’ve gotta eat these before the next showing of The Breakfast Club.”
Steve watches you and your friend leave, with the wistful gaze of someone who just watched their greatest opportunity walk away from them. He never knew that it was possible to hate an entire geographic location, but he really wishes Chicago would get blown off the map in the next 24 hours.
The wooden partition doors slam open, and Robin’s head appears in the window to the kitchen. “The cream king? Do you want me to actually hurl?”
“I said, ‘the king of cream,’” he groans, digging his knuckles into his eye sockets. “Kill me, Robin. Load me into the freezer. Bury me at the fairground.”
“You think you’re valuable enough to displace that much ice cream?” Robin rolls her eyes, and with another loud thwack, her white board appears in the space behind her. “We don’t make anything called Sex on the Beach. This is a family establishment.”
“I made it up.”
Robin coos, “Aww. Be still my heart. You love her to the point of invention.”
Steve whirls around. “Love? Who said anything about love?”
“I did.” Robin uncaps her dry-erase marker and draws a tally mark under the side that reads, you rule.
“Uh, Robin,” Steve snaps, pointing at the board condescendingly. “I think you put that on the wrong side. I fucked it up.”
“Dingus. Please. As much as it makes me gag- and you know I gain immense pleasure from counting how often you screw up- I could practically hear her heart eyes.” She sets the white board down, begrudgingly. “I think you found the only girl alive who’ll find all this-” she waves her hand at him, “endearing. Who was she? Some ex of yours?”
“If only,” Steve sighs, shaking his head. When he turns back to the counter, his eyes land on the single chocolate coin glinting in the tip jar.
He scoops it up with two fingers and pockets it.
You won’t believe half the things I see inside my head. Wait ‘til you see half the things that haven’t happened yet…
Family Video, March 1986
The air conditioning nearly blasts you backwards into the parking lot. You don’t know why they need it blasting so hard at 7pm, in the middle of March. It’s not like it’s the height of summer- your spring break takes place earlier than the local school’s, but it just means that you get to beat the crowds when you come home to visit your family.
Of course, they love to send you to run errands. You end up picking up the groceries, and the housewares, and, on this occasion, the choices for family movie night.
This Family Video’s selection isn’t necessarily as extensive as the ones in Chicago, but it’s good enough. You enter the store, and it dumps you directly in front of a cardboard cutout of Phoebe Cates about to flash you. Family friendly entertainment, and all.
The TV in the corner is running the final scene of The Good, the Bad, and the Ugly- Ennio Morricone’s score plays dramatically into the empty store. There’s no one behind the counter currently, so you pull the list of videos your extended family members had all requested. The Breakfast Club. Camelot. The Birds. Pretty general selections for your family, but it seems like you’ll have to hunt them up on your own.
You’re wandering down the romance aisle, since The Breakfast Club was nowhere on the new releases or comedy shelves, when someone finally emerges from the back room. You see a flash of a head moving toward the front counter from over the top of a rack, and you take it as your chance to ask for help.
“Excuse me? Do you guys have any copies of The Breakfast Club, or-”
You stop short, choking on your words. Steve Harrington turns around to look at you, carrying a stack of VHS tapes perched under his chin, and holding a folded up piece of paper between his teeth.
You stare each other down for a second, before Steve gracefully spits the paper over his shoulder and onto the counter. “Hey, um… long time, no see?”
“I’d say.” You tilt your head. Funny how quickly your eyes will hone in on his lips, like searching for a target every time. “We always seem to run into each other like this. What happened to the ice cream gig?”
“Starcourt burned down,” Steve says, plopping the stack of VHS tapes down on the counter beside the paper he spit out. “Right around the Fourth of July, last summer.”
“So, right after I last saw you?”
Steve smirks to himself before he turns back to you. “Yeah. Like, a week or so after. Did you manage to burn the place down, after all?”
“I wish.”
You pause, taking the time to size him up. It’s amazing what the better part of a year will do to someone, inside and out. With a striped shirt and green vest, he looks much more relaxed and casual than he had at Scoops Ahoy. His hair’s a little longer, his eyes a little darker as they rake over you, in return.
You’re a little bit desperate to see what’s going on in his head, if it’s anything like what’s happening in yours.
You wish you could say that you tried to seek him out when you got back to town- a year ago, maybe you would have. But you’d pretty much given up on the idea of him, moving up to dating college boys who don’t string you along, who don’t wait until the last minute to finally try their hand at flirting with you. If he ever passed through your mind, it was with the attached hope that he’d found greener pastures than Hawkins, Indiana. Foolishly, you hoped that as long as you told yourself that he’d moved on, it would be true. And then maybe what could have been wouldn’t matter anymore.
You’d stepped back into Hawkins after half a year of college, the graveyard of all hope in your happily ever after, and you hadn’t even thought of Steve Harrington. Except, seeing him now, everything comes flooding back. All the days spent pining over him. All the close brushes you’d had with finally getting the ending you wanted.
You have to be honest. “You look good, Steve. You always do.”
Steve chuckles, tilting his chin down as he shoves his hands into the pockets of his light wash jeans. “Better without the sailor costume, right?”
“Aww, I liked the sailor costume.” You step closer so you can whisper, “I thought it was sexy.”
Steve peers down his nose at you, drawing himself up to tower above you at his full height. He tries to look unaffected, but you can see his ears glowing pink beneath wisps of golden highlights. “Watch it. You’re gonna give me an ego.”
“We don’t want that, do we?” You unfold the list of movies you’re here to collect, holding it up to him between two fingers. “Got any of these movies?”
Steve reads the short list, and nods to himself. “I know we have Camelot, but I’m not sure about The Breakfast Club. Let me check in the back?”
“I’ll be here.”
“All right- don’t get up to any trouble, though. I’ve got my eye on you.” He points at you coolly, feigning an authoritative expression. He tries to hide his smile, but the creases around his eyes give him away.
“I hope you do.” You try to appear casual as you breeze past him, but you have to fiddle with your jacket collar to hide their shaking. Still, you feel the sweep of his gaze on you like rays of sun on your skin. It frightens you how easily you can fall back into the old back-and-forth routine you established in high school- how he gets you to say things you never meant to voice, but that live in your head effortlessly.
Steve watches you disappear down the drama aisle before he takes in a huge breath of air and bolts toward the back room. Any and all coolness he was performing disappears like so much smoke. Slamming open the door, he nearly shouts, “Do you have a doubloon?!”
Robin startles, swinging around in her seat, looking away from her computer screen. “A what? Why are you yelling?”
“A doubloon, a f-fucking-” Steve looks quickly over his shoulder, out the door, and starts hunching over as he whispers, “a chocolate coin. Like one of those ones we had at Scoops, remember?”
“Why do you want a chocolate coin?” Robin squints at him. “Stop crouching like that, you look like Nosferatu.”
Steve hisses through his teeth, and he’s got a frantic edge to his expression that Robin doesn’t like. “Okay- remember that girl, the one who showed up at Scoops that time, and you gave me my one and only ‘You Rule’ tally?”
“No.”
“Great. Well, she’s here, and she told me if I gave her one of those chocolate coins she’d kiss me.” Steve shoves his hands through his hair, mussing up the already disheveled style. “Please, Rob, I can’t let her get away again. I’ve done it, like, a thousand times already.”
“Okay, Romeo,” Robin humors him, turning around in her seat. “So you’re saying this babe, who I very much don’t remember because you always struck out while we worked at Scoops, told you that if you bribed her with chocolate she’d kiss you?”
“Yes.”
“And you don’t think she was maybe joking?”
Steve opens and closes his mouth like a fish out of water. Truthfully, he hadn’t. He’d overlooked the idea that, after everything that had happened between you, you might just be joking about kissing him.
“You know you could use your actual charm to get a girl to kiss you?” Robin dips her chin, shaking her head like it’s obvious.
Steve frowns. As if he hasn’t already tried that. “Do you have any chocolate coins or not?”
Robin sighs exasperatedly. “I don’t think I’ve seen one of those things since we worked at Scoops. Sorry, bud. You’re out of luck.”
“FUCK!” Steve’s hand smacks the door as he heads out of the back room, making Robin scowl after him. She shakes her head as she turns back to her work.
Back out on the sales floor, the credits to The Good, the Bad, and the Ugly have finished, and white noise fills the empty space. Steve turns in a circle by the checkout counter, searching for you among the aisles.
Where did you disappear to, this time? A part of him dreads the answer. He was the one who fucked everything up- he shouldn’t have chickened out when he had the chance. He should have asked you to that fucking prom, but he was too scared to commit after what happened with Nancy.
If this is his last chance, he needs to make it count.
He coughs into the dead air, and says, “Looks like we’re all out of The Breakfast Club.” There’s a disconcerting amount of silence that leaves him cold, almost certain that you’ve left already, for the last time.
Then, you appear from behind the red curtain to the adult videos section.
Oh.
“Everything okay?” you ask sweetly as you approach, holding a couple tapes that you must have picked up while you shopped around. “I heard some yelling back there.”
“Oh, yeah. Just, uh… shelving issues.” Steve backs his way behind the counter. He repeats, “Sorry, I couldn’t find the movie for you.”
“I heard. I’m not worried about it.” You plop the tapes that you did find on the counter. “It was nice of you to look for me. Thanks, Steve.”
“Always.” Steve starts scanning your tapes; it looks like you managed to find the other films on your list, along with one for yourself. From the adult section.
You watch in amusement as you can see the cogs visibly turning in Steve’s head, while he stares at the front of the porn video you picked. Spring Break Sex Party II. Not that you’d ever seen the first one, but the cover of this one was suggestive enough- a bunch of drunk people naked on a beach, lying in a great big pile. Looks like fun, in your opinion.
You always love seeing Steve blush. The prettiest shade of pink colors his cheeks before he glances up at you. “Should I ask…?”
“It’s the closest thing to getting a Sex on the Beach, here.”
Steve chokes, and he scrambles for a response to that. “I- I was gonna ask for an I.D.”
“You know we’re the same age,” you deadpan.
“Y-yeah. I, uh- I know… I know that.” He hangs his head and pinches the bridge of his nose, his eyes tightly shut.
You wonder if this is what you looked like to him, that time in the hallway when he loitered by the fountain to talk to you. “Breathe, Steve.”
A blast of laughter leaves his mouth before he can swallow it. If only you knew how hard it actually is, to act like he’s not just fucking melting right in front of you. When he hangs on every word you say, and every other thought he has is about how badly he wants to tell Robin to get lost and take you in the back room. You don’t know how much he’s fixating on your curves and how they’d feel against him, how much he wants to taste every inch of your body. He’s practically vibrating in place with all his pent up frustration, and you’re here buying porn, like it’s the easiest thing in the world.
Steve clears his throat, shakes his head. Christ. “Okay, well. You know that this is a sale item, it’s not for rent. You can return it within 10 days as long as the packaging hasn’t been opened.”
“I know.”
“Okay.” He’s still nodding as he puts it into the bag with the rest of your rentals.
“Are you always this affected by people buying from the adult section?” you ask mildly.
“Nah, usually I don’t care,” he replies without thinking.
“Good to know that you care about my taste in pornography,” you tell him with the most shit eating grin on your face, taking the bag from him. “I’m flattered.”
He makes a clumsy noise in the back of his throat, somewhere between a laugh and a grunt. He’s right back to working at Scoops Ahoy, fumbling every attempt at flirting, losing his cool at the sight of a pretty girl. It’s… humbling.
He’s sure Robin would say that he can always use more humility.
“It was good to see you again, Steve.” And just like that, you’re sand slipping through the cracks in his fingers.
Desperately, he tries to block the flow, closing his fingers around you in an attempt to keep you in his grasp. “Do you- uh-” He lurches forward, white-knuckling the counter like his life depends on it. You turn back towards him, an eyebrow raised at his sudden outburst.
You’re back in the school hallway, senior year. Crying over Logan Sawyer. Harrington is up against the wall by the drinking fountain. You want him to just say the words and ask you to prom.
“I mean… if you have the time, while you’re in town… do you want to go for a cup of coffee? With me?”
“Oh, Steve.” You sigh, and it’s the most heartbreaking noise he’s ever heard in his life. Soft sand, falling through his fingers, disappearing back the way you came. He already dreads your answer before it comes. “I wish… you know, if I had come in here and met you about a week ago, I would have said yes in a heartbeat. But I have to catch the train back to Chicago tomorrow. My break’s almost up.” You offer him a reassuring smile. “I’m just glad that you didn’t completely miss me, at least.”
“Right, of course.” Steve smiles back at you, feeling more like an idiot the longer this drags on. He’s like Sisyphus rolling that rock up the fucking hill. “I… I’m glad I got to see you, too. Maybe next time.”
Oh, it hurts. It hurts way more than you thought it would, to have to turn Steve down- after all the years pining for him through high school, after the time you turned him away when he would have kissed you. You think about kissing him, now. He would let you do it- he’s asking you out, and he looks so sad that you’re saying no.
You could. But wouldn’t it make saying goodbye this time even harder than it already is?
“Yeah. Maybe next time,” you tell him. You don’t want this to hurt more than it does. You truly hope there’s a next time, another year down the line when you run into him over winter break. Maybe you’ll find him at the Radio Shack.
Steve watches you leave, once again. Fumbling his chance, again. When the door swings shut behind you, Steve bends at the waist and drops his head against the countertop.
Typical Harrington. Late to the party, miss the girl.
“Well. That was… really painful to listen to.” Robin emerges from behind one of the shelves, crossing her arms. Gently, she adds, “On the bright side, I don’t think the chocolate coin would have mattered.”
Steve picks his head up, and he thwacks his forehead back down onto the counter.
And again.
And again.
And I can see you being my addiction, you can see me as a secret mission. Hide away, and I will start behaving myself…
Sur La Table Restaurant, Chicago, April 1991
You shake your umbrella out as you step into the warm foyer of, quite possibly, the most upscale restaurant you’ve ever set foot in. The carpet is deep, blood red, the walls a dark chestnut wood. The white covered tables are each spotlit within the otherwise dark dining room, and the atmosphere is flavored by soft piano and the quiet din of hushed voices.
You had been hesitant to accept Theo’s invitation to dinner- he seemed too stuck up for your taste, but when Shelly introduced you to him, you had to admit that the name of the restaurant piqued your interest. Sur La Table. Chicago’s premiere Michelin Star restaurant.
As you hand your umbrella over to the coat check clerk, you’re greeted by a smiling hostess. “What’s the name for the reservation?”
“Um… Theo Bowman. I believe he’s already here?”
“Yes, ma’am. Right this way.”
Theo stands as you’re shown to the table. Tall, with dark hair and a wide smile, he reminds you of someone you knew once, but you just can’t seem to place it. Then, when he towers over you to shake your hand, standing far closer than necessary, you’re able to pick it out from the recesses of your mind.
Logan Sawyer.
“You look nice,” Theo says pleasantly, and you chalk up your initial comparison to nerves, on your part. You don’t often let friends set you up on dates, so you’re a little bit out of your element as it is.
As you go to sit down, you admit, “I was so glad when you picked this place, I’ve always wanted to eat here, since I moved to Chicago.”
“It’s not the nicest place I’ve been,” Theo shrugs, taking the seat across from you.
Your smile falters, for a second. “Oh, no?” The water has already been brought to the table, you guess while he was waiting for you. You take a long drink.
“Nah, I’ve been to Le Bernardin, in New York. That’s fine dining.” Theo waves his hand at the upscale dining room. “This is… okay.”
“I see.” You lift your menu, hoping that he’ll do the same.
“Yeah, New York is so much nicer than Chicago, in my opinion,” Theo continues, fiddling with his napkin as he talks. “There’s a lot more to do. Have you ever been?”
You hope this is just his nerves talking. “No.”
Theo keeps talking as you stare at the menu in front of you, at a loss. It’s an a la carte menu, clearly, but extensive and all in french. Salade de poires pochées. Coquilles Saint-Jacques Gratineés. Filet au poivre vert. You’re scrutinizing the fine print of what all the dishes include when your waiter steps up to the table. You know when it happens, because Theo finally stops blathering about New York.
You break your eyes away from the menu to glance at the server’s waistline, at eye level with you. He wears a crisply pressed suit and tie, his hands clasped in front of his belt.
“Good evening sir, ma’am,” the server says in a hushed tone, to keep the volume of the dining room down. “Welcome to Sur La Table. I’m Steven, I’ll be serving you this evening. Before we begin, are there any questions about the menu?”
You peer up into the darkness to try to see Steven’s face. He’s standing just outside of the spotlight over the table, only able to be dimly lit from the indirect light reflecting from the tablecloth. Once your eyes adjust, they lock onto a pair of familiar hazel ones.
Oh my fucking god.
It’s got to be fate, or kismet, or some force of nature that keeps bringing you together like this. Steve Harrington’s face hasn’t changed in five years. Maybe he looks just slightly older, a little more filled out in his suit and tie. His hair is a bit shorter at the back but still that same shade of golden brown, neatly groomed and tidy for the formal atmosphere- but you can see it being tousled on his off days, still flopping across his eyes in waves. And those are the same lips you dreamt about kissing, the same eyes you admired in the school hallway, the same nose that you always wanted to grind o-
“No, I think we’re ready to order,” Theo announces, louder than necessary. You throw your gaze at him, your eyebrows raising despite your best efforts to remain calm.
Is he really going to order for you? Just like that?
“Well, I was going to ask-” you begin, wanting to get a little more specification on how the filet is made, when Theo cuts you off.
“It’s okay, I speak French,” he insists. Not that it makes a difference to what your question was.
You press your lips together in irritation and glance at Steve, who looks back at you stoically. You wonder if he recognizes you like you do him- it’s been long enough, and you’re sure that you look a bit different than you did the last time you saw him. And then you notice the creases around his eyes.
He’s playing it off well enough, sure. But Steve is doing that same look that he did there in the Family Video five years ago, trying to pretend that he’s not affected by you, swallowing back his smile. He sends you a knowing look that says, What a fucking douchebag, am I right?
Suddenly, this date just got way more entertaining. You give Steve a minute roll of your eyes, only enough for him to notice. Tell me about it.
“We’ll start with the Bordeaux,” Theo is already reciting to Steve as you settle back in your seat. Steve pulls a little notepad out of his jacket pocket and begins writing. “For an appetizer, the coquilles. Then for the main, I’ll have the canard montmorency, and she’ll have the mignons de veau.”
You watch Steve’s hand pause as he’s writing, and he looks to you. He raises his eyebrow, saying everything he needs to with the one gesture. Is that what you really want? “The veal?”
“No,” you say, digging your thumbnail into your palm, where it rests on your lap. “Actually, I wanted to ask about the filet. What brandy is the sauce made with?”
Steve smiles, leaning a little bit closer to you. “We use Courvoisier.”
“Great. I’ll have that, please.”
Steve nods encouragingly at you. As he jots down the order, he says, “Wonderful. I’ll get this to the kitchen for you, but before I can bring you the wine, I’ll just need to see the lady’s I.D.”
“Are you serious?” Theo snaps.
“It’s all right,” you murmur, hiding your face as you dip your head to fish your I.D. out of your clutch. “He’s just doing his job. Right, Steven?”
Steve meets your eye as he takes the card from your hand. “You can never be too careful.” You watch him smirk as he looks over your I.D., his eyes lingering on your name for a second before he hands it back to you. If there was any doubt in his mind that you are who he thought, it’s gone now. “Interesting. We’re the same age.”
You laugh. Probably a little louder than is respectable, but you can’t help it. Leave it to Steve Harrington to remind you of the time you bought porn from him, while you’re on a date.
You watch Steve write something else on his notepad, and rip the page out before folding it up. He tucks his notepad into his pocket as he says, “I’ll get this started for you. I hope you enjoy your evening.”
“Thank you, Steven,” you offer just as he starts to walk away.
Steve shoots you a sideways glance. “Always.”
Your heartbeat pounds in your chest as you turn back to your date. Theo looks disgruntled, but he just lifts his water to his lips.
“So,” you begin, “what do you do?”
“Marketing manager,” Theo says, with a click of his tongue. “For Bowman Wine & Spirits.”
“Oh,” you nod. “No relation, I suppose?”
“My father owns the company.”
“Right.” God, help me.
Across the dining room, Steve watches you over his shoulder. His jaw sets as he sees you, the girl of his literal dreams, sitting across from some idiot who doesn’t even know that you don’t order for your date without asking her what she wants first, you fucking weasel.
That’s all right. You seem to have the situation under control, for now. Steve watches you calmly sip your water, staring at your date but not listening to a thing he’s saying.
Steve sighs. He’s never been much of a schemer, but he’ll just make sure that you won’t leave with this guy if you don’t want to.
His fingers brush the note in his pocket, and he pinches it just as he passes the front of house manager, Taryn. Without breaking stride, he slips the note into her hand, heading toward the back hallway and down to the wine cellar.
As Steve passes by, Taryn unfolds the note he slips her, and raises one eyebrow at the request he’s written.
I can see you in your suit and your necktie, pass me a note saying, “Meet me tonight.” Then we kissed and you know I won’t ever tell…
Overall, you enjoy Sur La Table immensely. The restaurant itself, anyways. The wine is wonderful. The atmosphere is great. The food is exquisite.
You’re about to jump the waiter’s bones.
Theo got his second wind sometime after the scallops arrived, and you think he hasn’t paused for breath since. You’ve been calmly eating your food, while Theo tells you literally everything about himself. It’s the best case scenario you can see happening on this date. You enjoy the food, mumble a non-committal acknowledgement now and then, and Theo entertains himself with his own voice the rest of the time.
You’re gonna kill Shelly for setting you up with him, but that’s tomorrow’s problem.
Right now, you’re focused on finishing your glass of wine while he talks about camping, of all things.
“So we got up into the Rockies,” he’s telling you, gesturing with his hands like it’ll make you more engaged. “We ended up freezing our keisters off. No joke, I have frostbite scars.”
“That’s, um… that sounds like fun.”
“No, are you listening? I mean, it was terrible. We couldn’t move for, like, two days. And when the snow stopped we were so tired and cold, we almost died.”
You knock back the rest of your wine with one gulp, and say with a sticky voice, “Wow. A near death experience must have been really scary, I’m sorry.”
Theo frowns. “No- I mean… It wasn’t… it wasn’t near death-”
“You just said-”
“It was more like a serious inconvenience, you know. But we pulled through. I wasn’t scared. A little snow isn’t gonna kill me,” he laughs incredulously. “It was just-”
Theo stops as Steve approaches the table. You catch him giving the back of Theo’s head the most murderous look imaginable before slowing to a stop and plastering an easy customer service smile in its place. “How did you find everything this evening?”
“It was fine.”
“The food was wonderful,” you tell Steve reassuringly. Your date, on the other hand…
“Yeeeah, could we get the check, please?” Theo asks, finally looking up at Steve.
You watch Steve’s brow twitch, such a small movement you could have imagined it. “Certainly. But first-” from behind his back, he reveals two white gift boxes and places them on the table in front of you and your date, respectively. “We like to give each of our customers a signature chocolate truffle, as a token of our appreciation.”
Everything in you aches. “Oh, that’s nice. Thank you so much.” You look down at the box in adoration, thinking for a second that it might be the only time in your life that Steve Harrington gives you something similar to a ring box.
“I’ll be sure to have our hostess come through with the check,” Steve adds delicately, making a gracious exit. His finger just slightly brushes your arm as he passes by- a dangerous move, but one that nearly electrifies your entire body at the single touch. You shiver as he says, “Have a lovely night.”
You watch Steve walk away from you, and your heart sinks into your stomach. You want to chase after him. The 18 year old you, who almost kissed him on prom night, is trying to claw its way out of your skin and bolt after him.
When Steve disappears from view, you have nowhere to look but at your date. Theo opens the white box in front of him and pops a neapolitan colored truffle into his mouth. “Well, that was underwhelming.”
You don’t want to watch him chewing anymore, like a cow gnawing on grass. You sigh, running a frustrated hand across your forehead, and flip open the box in front of you. The top of it rears up like a clam shell, and you freeze, your fingertips suddenly sticking to the sweat beading on your brow.
You don’t have a neapolitan truffle- you have a single golden chocolate coin. You stare at it in shock for a second before you even notice the note pasted to the lid of the box.
Meet me outside- the door past the bathrooms.
“Aren’t you gonna eat yours?” Theo asks suddenly, as the hostess approaches holding the check.
Your eyes snap up just as your heart shoots back up into your chest. “I think I’m gonna save it for later.” You flash him a smile as you close the box swiftly and shove it into your clutch. “Do you mind if I hit the bathroom real quick?”
“No, go ahead. I’ve got it.” Honestly, it’s the kindest thing he’s done for you all night. You might have to thank him some day.
Once you’re out of your seat, you chase after Steve like a shot. Around a block of tables and into a tiled corridor, you walk past the kitchen doorway just as another server comes backing out, carrying a tray of dishes.
There’s a door at the end of the hall, labeled exit. You never actually thought you’d be escaping a bad date through the back door; the notion was too clichéed, you thought that sort of thing only happened in movies. But you find yourself nearly running past the men’s and women’s bathrooms, until your hands slam down on the bar of the back door and thrust it open into the wind.
The rain has picked up, more of a downpour than a light drizzle now. In your haste, you’d left your umbrella and coat with the coat check. Not that it would have been at all discrete if you’d gone to collect it before running towards the bathrooms.
The door clicks shut behind you, and you gaze around in the dark. The alley behind the restaurant is only partially lit by a yellow street lamp, making it even more difficult to find him than it was in the dining room. “Steve?”
You catch movement in the corner of your eye, and turn in the direction of the street lamp. Steve stands up from where he’d been sitting on an overturned crate- apparently the only accommodations the restaurant staff gets during a smoke break. The rain has already soaked into his hair, messing up the tidy style and turning it stringy, falling across his forehead, shining gold in the yellow light. He takes one last puff of the cigarette in his mouth before tossing it into the gutter, and he looks at you.
He sees you. And it’s all you’ve wanted since the day he first walked into your geography class, freshman year of high school. There’s been some kind of a magnetic pull between you two for years. Something keeps bringing you together, it’s just never been the right time. Until now.
Finally, you’re running towards him, and Steve’s arms finally come around you, pulling you against his body. Your hands find the back of his neck just in time for his lips to crash against yours.
You had lost count of the amount of times you watched him kiss other girls in the hallway in high school- not just Nancy, but any and every girl he attached himself to (for a while, it seemed like he couldn’t make up his mind who he was dating at any given moment). All you knew was that it was never you, and you wanted it to be so desperately that it consumed your mind half the time. He looked like a good kisser, and you fantasized about going up to him and testing that theory for yourself.
But you never expected that his lips would slide over yours with an urgency that you could feel through to your very core, probably even more desperate for your kiss than you are for his. Steve’s fingertips press into your body through the thin fabric of your dress, holding you firmly to him like he’s afraid you might disappear on him again if he doesn’t absorb you completely. Your mouth opens with a soft gasp, and Steve’s tongue against yours tastes like tobacco.
It happens so fast that you can’t even think- and you don’t really want to. You’re tired of thinking everything through, finding reasons upon reasons why it’s not a good time, why it’s a bad idea, why it won’t work. He moans into you, grabbing the side of your face as he stumbles with you to the wall, pressing you up against the side of the brick building.
You meet his moan with a whimper of your own as his hand slides down over the curve of your ass, and he hikes up the skirt of your dress to grab at your skin with abandon. There’s a ferocity in Steve’s kiss that you don’t know what to do with, like he’s trying to stake a claim to you right there in the rain, with no one around to see it happen but the moths in the street light overhead. Not that he needs to- he’s already got you. You already chose him.
Steve gives you room to breathe with a soft sigh, his forehead resting against yours. “Been wanting to do that since high school,” he admits, just loud enough for you to hear, before pressing a featherlight kiss just beside your mouth, and again to your cheek.
“Y-you fffucking-?” you gasp when he latches his lips around a sweet spot on your neck and sucks. “I had such a huge crush on you, Steve.”
“I know. I- I should have- I should…” Steve drops his head against your shoulder and groans when your nails rake against his scalp. “Fuck.”
He grinds his hips up against yours, biting your lip as the hard length of his cock presses up against your core. “Gonna fuck me in this alleyway, Harrington?”
“I’m seriously considering it,” he growls into your ear. His lips find yours again with a passion, his hand holding your jaw still. A hot breath escapes him, pouring over your skin and making you shiver. You’re lightheaded, so close to just letting him do it, too, when the back door of the restaurant swings open.
Steve still takes a second to pull away, a little too absorbed in kissing you to really care who sees him do it. If he had his way, he’d have everyone see that you’re his- that you belong with him, and have for a long time. He finally glances over his shoulder to see one of the cooks, Liam, walking off in the direction of the employee parking lot.
“Where did you get the fucking doubloon?” you whisper into his ear, sounding so fucking adorable that Steve can’t help the lovesick look he gives you.
He brushes his nose against yours. “I sent my manager on a treasure hunt.” You giggle, pressing your forehead up against his, and he can’t help but chuckle along with you. “I wanted to give you one at Family Video, that time.”
“I know,” you say, and he pulls back to look at your face. “I heard you yelling at your coworker in the back room.”
Steve snickers and turns red with embarrassment, hiding his face in the crook of your neck. You run your fingers through his rain-soaked hair, a content smile on your face as you feel him grin against your skin and shake with laughter. “Take me home, Steve.”
You don’t have to ask him twice.
What would you do, baby, if you only knew? That I can see you throw your jacket on the floor, I can see you make me want you even more…
The drive to Steve’s apartment downtown is made with light conversation and the heavy, heavy weight of his hand on your thigh, creeping up further with each mile. But aside from the implication of sex hanging in the air, it’s as easy as breathing, chatting about the night with him. Shitting on Theo.
“Did you notice the way he said coquilles,” Steve murmurs to you at a red light. “I thought he was gagging on something. He was just trying to impress you, you know.”
You grunt. Could’ve tried a little harder. “He didn’t even like them. He said he didn’t like shellfish,” you laugh in return as you lace your fingers through Steve’s. “Why the fuck would you order scallops, then?”
“The price.”
“The price.”
It’s sweet, talking to him all the way to his apartment building, just catching up like old friends. He tells you that he’s going to culinary school now, and he’s been working at the restaurant for a little over a year, just to pay the bills.
“Culinary school? Really?” you say, with a note of awe in your voice.
“Turns out I’m really fucking good at cooking,” Steve chuckles. “Who’d have thought? Maybe someday I’ll stop waiting tables and work back there in the kitchen.”
“I can see it,” you tell him softly. “I can see you being the world’s best chef. Three stars and everything.”
He scoffs, but a pink blush creeps up the back of his neck. “You have too much faith in me.”
“Those are fighting words, Harrington.” You wag your finger at him. “Throwing down the gauntlet?”
“You just want me to cook you something,” Steve tuts.
“Absolutely, I do.” You consider him for a moment, in the passing light of a streetlamp. “Am I that transparent?”
Steve tilts his head to eye you meaningfully, and he smirks. “Always have been, honey.” His thumb rubs a little circle on your thigh that has you squirming in your seat.
The first thing you see of Steve’s apartment is the kitchen, and beyond that the dormant living room, but you don’t get that far before you’re sidetracked. Steve throws his keys onto a drop station by the door, and pins you up against the refrigerator before you can even think to ask where to put your shoes.
Your clothes are still damp, your hair still pasted to your clammy skin. Steve’s lips are attacking yours and his hands are grabbing at everything he can touch, but it’s still not enough. He’s not able to feel all of you at once, and it’s driving him insane with every passing moment.
Steve roughly yanks his suit jacket off, throwing it onto the tile floor beside the kitchen island. “Lay down.”
“What?” you whisper to him as he kisses your neck, guiding you away from the side of the fridge. “Here?”
“Right here,” Steve states, not joking in the slightest. You wobble on your feet as you kick off your heels, but his hands on your hips keep you steady. “Been waiting too long for this- can’t wait anymore.”
“I- wwhuh-?” you gasp as Steve kneels in front of you, and your knees buckle involuntarily as he lays you down across his discarded jacket. Your hands grab his shoulders as you tumble backward, taking him with you.
He face-plants into your stomach with a noisy, “Oof.” Cackling, you run your fingers through his damp hair, as he laughs and shoves his blushing face further against your torso. Steve litters your stomach with kisses, giggling against you with a note of nervous energy. He’s adorable.
You pet your fingers down the side of his face and he leans into the touch. “Can’t even wait long enough to take me to the bedroom?”
“Well, I would have fucked you in the alley,” Steve points out as his fingers breach the hem of your skirt and find your panties. He tugs as he says, “Be thankful I even got you home.”
Your cheeks burn hot. You fidget, trying to press your thighs together to abate the throbbing ache between them. “Careful, baby. You’re starting to sound desperate.”
Steve pauses, his hazel eyes lighting up when they lock on yours. “Call me that again,” he requests, pressing a kiss to your ankle as he pulls your panties off your feet. He tosses them over his shoulder, but you don’t see where they land as he continues peppering kisses down your calf.
You hold his gaze. “Baby?” His eyes flutter, his lips parting as they drag up toward your knee. “You like when I call you that?”
“I like when you call me anything,” Steve admits. “But as long as you call me that, it means I’m yours.”
Your breath stutters in your chest. Steve Harrington is yours. It doesn’t matter if it’s just for tonight- what matters is that you have him now, and he wants you just as badly.
“You’re mine, aren’t you?” he murmurs quietly against your skin, his voice crackling with brimming need. He’s flushed, his cheeks pink and his hair drying in tousled waves over his forehead the longer he drags this out.
Nodding your head, you reach down to lace your fingers through his, where they’re bunching your skirt up around your hips. “Yes, Steve.” Always have been.
He turns his head and sucks a spot on your calf, just below your knee, resting your ankle over his shoulder. Still, despite your desperation, you nervously keep your thighs pinched together.
Steve tuts, “C’mon, baby, you’ve gotta spread your legs for me. You wanna let me see that pretty pussy, right?”
Still clammy and cold with rain, the air on your exposed skin makes you shiver almost as much as his sweeping hands do when they gently part your thighs. You let go, let him take control as you still and keep your eyes focused on his face, because looking anywhere else would remind you that this is real, and not a dream.
Steve sighs, “There she is. Y’gonna let me taste you, sweetheart?” He bats his pretty eyes at you in a way that makes your heart stop dead in your chest. He can’t keep his mouth off of you, even for a moment, his lips and slight stubble dragging across your skin as he says, “Been wanting to forever, you won’t even believe-”
“Please, Steve,” you start to beg before he even finishes his sentence. “Please, my god, I- I just- I just want you so much-”
“Sh-sh-sh-shh.” His tongue licks wet and hot against your inner thigh before he whispers, “I’ve got you, baby. M’not going anywhere, I’m staying right here ‘til you cum.”
You’re instantly hot all over, your blood fucking boiling beneath your skin and your wet dinner dress. Steve’s fingers dig into the meat of your thighs as he yanks you toward his face, the fabric of his jacket beneath you audibly zipping along the kitchen floor.
Steve dips his head, and his mouth closes over your cunt right at the same moment that yours falls open with a moan that won’t come out, because you’ve suddenly forgotten how to breathe. The noise stalls right at the beginning- your lungs stop working and you can’t seem to get them to start again, because Steve’s tongue is everywhere, dripping wet and gentle on skin that’s way too sensitive to handle it right now. Your hips try to jerk away from him in resistance, but he slams his hand down on them, holding you hard and still against the tile floor, his shoulders pushed up against the backs of your thighs to keep them open.
Steve takes a break just long enough to grin evilly up at you, because he’s been waiting for five years to tell you to, “Breathe, sweetheart.”
“Fffffuck,” you manage to spit out finally, your voice cracking on the word like it didn’t even really want to put in the work to make it happen. Your breath comes back into your lungs all at once, rapid firing with a dozen moans for punctuation. Steve’s lips quirk against you, and he rumbles a noise of satisfaction against your pussy that makes you jolt in his hold again. “Steve…”
He pulls off of you with a slow, slow stroke of his tongue over your clit, making you whimper high and tight in your throat. “That’s it, baby,” Steve whispers, his breath fanning across your slick cunt, his left hand leaving your hip so that he can drag his knuckles teasingly through your swollen folds. “Feels good, doesn’t it? Feels so right.”
Two long fingers sink into you with ease, stirring the need in you to have him just simply destroy you. You moan loud, your hand shooting out and wrapping around the leg of a bar stool for the kitchen island beside you.
“Poor thing’s just so sensitive, huh?” Your head arches backwards against the floor, your pussy clenching tight around his fingers as he curves them with practiced accuracy. Steve’s voice is a deep murmur, distant thunder rolling over your nerves, “Relax for me, honey. You’ve waited long enough, just let it happen. Let me give you what you want.”
His lips shine when you look down at him, your hand reaching to run through his hair. Stifling a whine that threatens to come out when he kisses your clit and bends his fingers within you, you stutter out, “J-just want… I- ha-ah! Just want you.”
Steve purrs. “I know.” The crisp white fabric of his shirt scrapes against your thighs, almost rough in comparison to his tongue flat on your pussy. You can hear the wet, salacious sound of his fingers pumping into you, pulling you toward the edge of oblivion. He hisses through his teeth, shaking his head slightly. “God, I’m so fuckin’ lucky.”
“Y-you-?” you manage a laugh, scraping your nails along his scalp lightly. “You’re lucky? You have n-no… fffucking idea-” You cut off with a sob when Steve wraps his lips around your clit, sucking long and hard enough that your leg twitches, your heel dragging up the back of his pristine white blouse. Your breathing picks up just as all your muscles lock down tight. “Jesus Christ-”
“There you go,” Steve praises as your orgasm shakes your body, your hand gripping his hair so hard that he groans softly into your damp skin. He doesn’t stop moving his fingers, lewd wet noises picking up and echoing through the quiet kitchen. “That’s a good girl. Mmm , felt so nice to let go, didn’t it?”
You don’t know if he really wants you to answer that- you’re still twitching, coming down from your high as he pulls his fingers from your spasming cunt and sucks them into his mouth. The pause gives you a gentle reprieve, sinking back onto his suit jacket beneath you. Then, his mouth finds your pussy again, his tongue delving deep into your entrance and laving up to your sensitive clit.
You gasp, throwing your hands down into his hair. “Steve-?!”
He moans in response. “Just needed to taste you some more, honey. Taste so fuckin’ sweet, I can’t get enough.” Steve relents, crawling up your body to hover his face over yours. “Still wanna see the bedroom?”
You nod excitedly, your hands finding his smiling face and stroking the hair away from his eyes. With a gentle kiss of his wet lips to yours, Steve gathers your still-wrecked body into his arms and carries you into his bedroom.
He’s struck by how blissful you are as he sets you down on his bed, so soft and inviting. He encourages your arms up, his hands finding the zipper of your wet dress and finally, finally, pulling it over your head so that he can see you. All your curves and edges on display for him, after all this time imagining what he couldn’t see with the naked eye.
“You’re so beautiful.” Steve repeats what he told you all those years ago at prom- he meant it then, and he means it now. Maybe even more this time, now that he’s not a stupid teenager, now that he finally has his head on his shoulders.
You shiver against him when he unclips your bra- black lace that matches the underwear sitting in his entryway. A possessive part of him rears up, knowing that you’d worn them to a date with some asshole who couldn’t treat you right, even for one hour of the guy’s miserable life. Steve dips his head and kisses your breast, so much softer now than he was before, feeling your heartbeat against his lips.
“Hey.” You gently tug him by his tie, loosening it and his collar. You look into his eyes, and his heart melts. “Where’d you go just now, sailor?”
Steve blushes, his eyes flicking down as you remove his tie and start unbuttoning his blouse. “Just thinking...” he trails off, eyeing you thoughtfully. “Just thinking I could have missed you again if I wasn’t careful.”
“Mmm,” you hum, your hands smoothing up his chest and over his shoulders to get his shirt off of him. It drops to the floor with a whisper. “I don’t think so. I think this was meant to happen, eventually.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah.” You scrunch your nose cutely, in a way that makes Steve’s pants tighten even more uncomfortably across his hips. “We’ve run into each other too many fuckin’ times, baby. Karma’s on our side.”
He laughs. “Karma.” He shakes his head as he undoes his belt.
You quirk your brow at him as your hands fiddle with the fly of his suit pants. “Don’t believe me?”
Steve grunts, shifting to lean over you. “I’ll believe anything you say when you’re taking my pants off, honey. I’m easy that way.”
Your nails rake through the hair on his chest- you can’t keep your hands off of him now that they’ve got him. You trace over two blotchy scars, one on either side of his torso that mirror each other. “What happened here?”
He blows a puff of air out of his mouth, rounding his cheeks as he shrugs. “Some… animals decided I looked really tasty, at one point. I know, they aren’t very pretty.”
Steve’s brushing over it like it’s nothing. You search his face, and you decide to do the same. “Actually, I think it’s kind of hot.” You drag your hand up to lay flat over his chest. You whisper conspiratorially, “Plus, I think you look really tasty, too.”
Steve quirks an eyebrow. “Y’gonna bite me about it?”
“Probably.” You wink. “Most likely.”
Your gaze falls indiscreetly to his cock, hard and flushed, glistening with precum and curving up toward his stomach. Girls talk, especially when they’re all trying to one-up each other; you knew that he was big. You’d heard the rumors. You’d seen him wearing those tight fucking jeans all the time, and you didn’t have to have much of an imagination to figure it out.
Still. It’s… a little overwhelming. You reach out a tentative hand, lightly wrapping your fingers around his base. They barely meet. Jesus Christ.
He groans, and kisses you until you can’t speak, resting his weight on top of you until you sink gleefully into the mattress. There’s a smile on your lips that transfers onto his, happiness and ease still flowing between you even as he grinds his hips up against yours.
“Ready?” Steve murmurs softly into your mouth, stealing your breath when you feel his cock slide through your folds, hot and fat.
“Dunno,” you tell him teasingly, but there’s an edge of reason to your words. Your hips squirm and you feel him even worse, slippery with your arousal. You whine. “I think you might kill me with that thing, Harrington.”
“I’ll go slow,” he whispers, hoarse in the back of his throat, his voice already shaking. “I’ll make sure you feel every bit of it, yeah?”
“Yeah,” you agree as you reach to line him up properly. “I’m all yours.”
Steve gives a relieved sigh as he slides into you, his head falling heavily to your shoulder. His cock aches, his torso shaking as he tries to steady himself. “Oh my god.”
“Baby,” you coo, choking on a moan when he bottoms out. He’s so thick- your nails dig into his shoulder blades as you try to remember how to breathe. It’s certainly a big stretch to try to fit him, but you can’t help wanting more just as soon as he comes to a stop. You can feel him trying to hold steady, holding himself back as though it’s the hardest thing in the world for him to do.
Because it is. You can’t see it, the way that his brow is furrowed in concentration, his eyes screwed shut. He didn’t know it would be like this- that he’d be in danger of blowing it just as soon as he started.
Your heel digs into his ass, and he doesn’t know if you do it purposefully, but he almost whimpers.
You take a shuddering breath. “Please- please move, Steve, I can’t take it.”
Oh, you can’t take it? “You know what,” Steve says with a hint of strain in his voice, picking his head up to nuzzle his nose with yours, “I think you like me.”
You snort, and kiss him lightly. “What gave you that impression?”
“Y’so fucking cute.” Steve hums and sloooowly pulls his hips back, dragging his cock through your walls so deliciously that your toes curl. “Could be all those times you stared at me in class-” He watches your face as he pushes forward, until his hips are flush with yours and your head arches backwards against his sheets. “Could be when you nearly let me kiss you at prom-” Out. In. Steve runs his tongue up the length of your throat, and bites at your earlobe. He whispers, “Could be that you came on my tongue ten minutes ago.”
He picks up his pace, just a bit. Just enough to have the bed creaking under you with the rhythm, to have you moaning in tandem with him- needy and high pitched, leaping from your throat into the hot, sex-charged air.
Steve’s lips latch onto your neck, and he sucks hard. He eases up after just a couple seconds, dragging his tongue over the sensitive spot, but you know what he’s just done- he’s marked you, right where you won’t be able to hide it in the morning.
You want him to do it all over your body.
Your jaw goes slack and you’re losing all integrity. He’s even better than you imagined- sleepless nights wanting, hoping endlessly that you’d find yourself here, under him, couldn’t have prepared you for how perfect it feels. His hand finds yours and laces your fingers together, pinning it to the mattress beside your head, squeezing with every slow and purposeful thrust of his hips.
Steve’s cock finds your g-spot like it’s nothing, like he’s known your body for ages. He barely even has to try before you’re whimpering, raking your nails up his back and leaving long red trails behind.
Your teeth latch onto his shoulder and you bite, probably harder than you should, but you just can’t refuse the urge to mark him the way that he’s left his mark on you. He moans, a deep and boyish sound in your ear, as you drag your tongue along his shoulder, soothing the bite, tasting his sweat. The salt and the sweetness of his skin, mixed with the heady smell of sex in the room, have you losing yourself in him.
“Biter.” You hear him chuckle dangerously, rumbling along your skin while his nose skirts your jawline.
“You’re so good, Stevie-” you whine, hot pleasure rearing up in you like a tidal wave. “Oh, you feel so fucking good, I love- love how you feel inside me.”
Steve groans loudly into your shoulder, his teeth grazing your collarbone. You think he has a mind to bite you back- maybe he’d do it harder. You can see Steve drawing blood, when the mood suits him.
But his hand squeezes yours, his other sweeping broadly up your thigh and hitching your leg up further over his hip. “Yeah?” His voice is rough, bordering on a growl, “What’d’ya say we stay like this forever, huh? Just like this?”
His pelvis grinds up against yours, his pubes crushing against your clit making you gasp. Everything’s wet- your skin, his skin, the sheets. Sweaty bodies sticking and sliding against each other, your hips meeting his in the middle.
“Like this?” you gasp, your head reeling. His forehead presses against yours, and it’s just about the only thing bringing you back into focus. Steve doesn’t falter, keeping the same pace and rhythm while he watches you try to form a coherent reply. “Mm- I- I, hhuh-”
“C’mon, babygirl,” he breathes against your damp skin, “you can do better than that. You love my cock so much, you wanna keep it warm all the time? Wanna stay in bed with me forever, is that it?”
You nod fervently, your hands grabbing at his neck, his hair, his shoulder- anywhere you can touch. “Yes, yes. God, Steve, I- you’re gonna make me cum, shit-”
“I know it,” Steve murmurs, tugging your lip between his teeth and making you whine again. Your cunt pulses around him, and he hisses, his hand slipping on your thigh. “Love seein’ you all drunk on my cock- shit, you’re so gorgeous like this.” He pauses to kiss you, making you lightheaded, making you tug at his hair. “Y’look so pretty under me, baby. Pussy feels so good, I wanna stay here, too. I can see us doin’ this for the rest of our lives, huh? How’s that sound?”
How does it sound? You and Steve Harrington, together forever? Intertwined, knotted up with no way to lose each other, no disappearing and then reappearing years down the line?
“S’that a challenge?” you whimper shakily at him. “Throwing down the gauntlet?”
“I don’t think I could let you go, now,” Steve tells you firmly, his hand leaving your thigh so that he can grab your jaw possessively, his tongue darting out to trace gently across your bottom lip. “I’m never gonna let you go, baby.”
You wrap your legs around his waist. “I don’t want you to.”
“I hope so,” he whispers, his breath mingling with yours.
Steve kisses you long and slow when you cum. You swallow his moans when he does.
What would you? Baby, if you only knew that I can see you, oh, I can see you…
You almost think it’s a dream. When you rouse in the morning, you feel like you imagined it. But you’re surrounded by the scent of Steve, of musky cologne and sweat and sex, and maybe just a little bit of hair gel stuck to his pillows.
You flop over and stare at the ceiling. You’re alone in a king size bed, fitted with gray sheets and a few too many pillows. The other side of the bed is still warm, but your paramour is nowhere to be found. His bedroom is fairly stark, with a few little things arranged on the dresser top and clothes thrown around the floor. It doesn’t feel like a room he spends much time in, aside from sleeping and dressing in the morning.
You immediately think about what this all means for you. Whether he really meant what he said in the heat of the moment, if he really wants this to be a long-term thing or if it was just pillow talk. It doesn’t take you long to determine which one you want it to be.
There’s commotion on the other side of the closed door. You lean over the side of the bed, searching for something to put on before you just waltz out there naked. Ultimately, you pull on his blouse from last night.
You emerge from the bedroom squinting against the light in the room. The blinds in the living room are open, casting bright sunlight across the room and into the kitchen. You find Steve in front of the stove.
“Hey, there she is!” he announces happily. “Just in time for breakfast.”
Steve looks so comfortable in the kitchen, moving around quickly and efficiently, whereas you tend to blunder about. When you wander over to the island, you notice he’s already picked up his suit jacket, and laid it across the bar stool next to the one you choose.
Your underwear is nowhere to be seen.
You grin at his back, plopping down onto the bar stool. The metal is cold against your bare ass, nearly making you squeal and jump back up. “Is it a Sex on the Beach?”
He laughs gleefully. “Nah, if only. How was that, by the way?”
“The ice cream, or the porn?”
He turns to grin at you over his shoulder. “Both.”
He’s wearing glasses. Round wire frames that complement his face perfectly, making him look distinguished in his gray sweats and black t-shirt. Just like that, you’re spiraling. Suddenly, you’re picturing yourself being here, with him cooking breakfast in his glasses and PJ’s every morning, on and on into the future. Doing domestic shit, grocery shopping, dancing around in the kitchen at 3 am, kissing in the rain- well, you’ve already done that one.
But you can see it. That future, with him by your side, it’s right there. You just don’t know if it’s the one that he wants. You don’t really know how deep this runs for him.
Funny what just an accessory can do to your train of thought.
“Um.” You swallow. What was the question? “The ice cream was great. Still the best sundae I’ve ever had, by the way. The porn was bullshit, I didn’t get through twenty minutes. I just wanted to make you blush.”
“Brat.” He spins around, and plates an omelet right in front of you. You watch his face, tracing the easy smile he wears. “I hope you like it- but if you don’t, you better not say anything. I don’t think I could handle the pain of your rejection.” He looks up at you, hazel eyes shining gold in the sunlight. “You’re staring.”
“I-” you blink at him. You don’t fucking say. You open your mouth to ask- you want to ask what this is, what he feels, did he mean it. Do you want to do this again? Is this serious for you? Because it is for me, if you want it. You just don’t get that far.
“You’ve been staring since we were fourteen,” he chuckles, sliding you a fork.
That startles you. “Well,” you click your tongue. “I didn’t realize you were looking so closely.”
“Oh,” Steve shrugs, turning to place the pan in the sink. “Just since freshman year. When you read Juliet’s monologue in English class. Remember?”
You tilt your head. Vaguely. It was just a class project, where each person had to choose a Shakespearean monologue to recite in front of the class. You thought he only even became aware of you senior year.
Romeo, doff thy name, And for that name which is no part of thee, Take all myself.
“Are you telling me,” you say, palms flat on the counter as you peer at him incredulously, “you’ve liked me just as long as I’ve liked you?”
“Told you I’d get there, eventually.”
Your brain refuses to compute. You stare at his back, his tousled hair, and want to yank him toward you and squeeze him like one of those fucking squeaky toys that you get at the pet store. The ones the eyes pop out of.
Steve turns to you with a smirk, leaning across the counter to mirror you. He reaches forward to trace the mark he made on your neck, still tender, while mocking your pout back at you. His eyes crease at the corners, like they always do when he’s trying to be coy.
“Eat your breakfast, baby. We’ve got a lot to talk about.”
Eyes Forward and Focus » Bucky Barnes/Winter Soldier
Pairings: Winter Soldier x New HYDRA Agent!Female Reader
Summary: The Winter Soldier tells you to keep your eyes forward and to focus, but you’re also focused on something else.
Warnings: Smut (18+), language, dirty talk, kissing, hickeys, choking, hair pulling, fingering, unprotected sex, praise kink, metal arm kink, Winter Soldier speaking Russian, pet names
A/N: I used Google translate for the Russian translations. My apologies if I got anything wrong.
Translations: Good girl - Хорошая девочка |
Written on my phone. My apologies for any mistakes.
Header made by my friend🩵 / divider made by me
GIF IS NOT MINE! Gif credit goes to the creator.
MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!!🔞
You’re on a stakeout mission with the Winter Soldier. This is your first mission. You’re fresh out of training. The Winter Soldier is your mentor for this mission. If you don’t complete your mission successfully, then he has to jump in and take over for you.
The Winter Soldier stares at you from a few feet behind you, his head slightly tilted. He quickly notices that your stance is completely off. He walks closer to you and puts his hands on your hips, which startled you.
“What- What are you doing?” You stuttered, looking back at him.
“Fixing your stance.” The Winter Soldier says.
He kicks your feet apart with his foot, making you stand shoulder width apart. Then his metal hand grasps your jaw, making you look forward at the target.
“Eyes forward and focus.” The Winter Soldier says.
“Ok.” You say nervously.
He lets go of your jaw and his hand roam your body freely. You should stop him before it escalates to something else, but you don’t want to. You just let him touch you. If you’re being honest, you’re loving the way he’s touching you. His hands go lower and lower till his hands are at your tactical belt. He unbuckles and then he unbuttons and unzip your tactical pants. He pulls down your tactical pants and panties to your knees. A shiver went up your spine when you heard the sound of him unbuckling his tactical belt. He pulls down his tactical pants just enough for his hard cock to spring out. You gasped when his cock touched your clit.
“Eyes forward and focus.” The Winter Soldier says again.
You let out a shaky breath and nodded. He lines his cock at your entrance and thrusts it inside of you in one thrust.
“Oh my god!” You moaned loudly.
“What did I say?” The Winter Soldier asks.
“Eyes- Eyes forward and f-focus.” You stuttered.
“Хорошая девочка.” He praises.
His thrusts start off a decent and fast pace. The sound of skin slapping is echoing in the empty room of the abandoned building you two are in for the stakeout. His hands hold onto your hips with a tight grip. You’re sure that there’s going to be hand shaped bruises on your hips by the time you two are done. You’re holding your gun at the target with a shaky grip. Your head falls against your arm, breathy moans leaving your lips. He grabs your ponytail, wrapping your hair around his hand and yanks your head up. His free hand holds your hands still, helping you hold the gun.
“Eyes forward and focus.” The Winter Soldier says in your ear.
That’s when the target comes into shot. You put your finger on the trigger, but not pulling it.
“Pull the trigger.” The Winter Soldier orders softly in your ear.
You nodded and took a deep breath before pulling the trigger, shooting the target with ease. Then the gun fell out of your hands to the ground. Your hands gripping onto the window ledge.
“Хорошая девочка.” The Winter Soldier praises.
That’s when his thrusts became relentless. His hand that’s holding onto your ponytail pulls you upright so your back is against the front of his body. He tilts your head just enough for him to have access to your neck, marking you up.
“Oh fuck!” You moaned.
His metal hand wraps around your throat and gave your throat a squeeze. Not hard enough to cut off your oxygen supply. Just enough for you to feel it. His free finds its way to your clit, giving it a pinch before rubbing it. You squeaked and bucked your hips against his hand.
“It’s like you wanted this.” He says softly in your ear.
You’d be lying if you said no. You actually did want it. You just didn’t expect it to happen during a mission.
“Tell me you wanted this.” He almost growls, slightly tightening his metal hand on your throat.
“I wanted this!” You moaned out. “I wanted it so bad!” You moaned.
“I fucking knew it.” He growls.
His fingers rub your clit faster, your orgasm building up quickly. You can feel it deep inside of you. Your legs began to shake. You’re just about there. He can sense it too.
“Are you going to be a good girl and cum for me?” He asks.
“Yes! Oh my god! Yes!” You moaned.
“Cum.” He says softly.
Your eyes rolled to the back of your head and your mouth falling agape as you came. His thrusts never faltered as his own orgasm was building up. A low growl leaves his lips as he cums inside of you. His thrusts come to a slow stop. His metal hand remains around your throat and his right hand remains in between your legs for a moment before he pulls out and lets go of you. You can feel his cum leaking out of your pussy and dripping down your inner thighs. You pulled your panties and tactical pants back up and so did he. As soon as you turned around, his metal hand grasps your throat again, not choking you this time and yanks you towards him and kisses you. The kiss was a mixture of roughness and passion.
what's that? you want a drabble inspired by this gif? yeah sure
Inappropriate
18+
your newest employee gets a little excited during a zoom call, and he can't help but try and relieve himself.
warning: frat!intern!bucky x ceo!reader, mature themes, age gap (reader is around 10 years older than bucky), smut (praise kink, masturbation, degradation, jerk-off instructions, use of a fleshlight, mommy kink, sub!bucky, mean dom!reader)
"and with the implementation of our newest marketing strategy, we'll be seeing a wider client base in the east," bruce says while you and the others in the call lazily listen.
"great," you reply, closing your notebook. "is that everything?"
a short silence falls in the meeting as none of the 16 people in the call speak up.
"alright then," you say, sitting up. "that's a wrap. we'll catch up first thing on friday morning. james, could you stay behind? i need to discuss your schedule with you."
everyone else gives their goodbyes before leaving the two of you alone. james barnes is your intern for the summer; he's a college boy with not much experience or knowledge, but he gets the job done. you definitely won't be offering him a full time role once he graduates, but he's polite and easy on the eyes.
"how you doing today?" you ask him casually while flicking through to the right page in your notebook.
"good, yeah," he replies. "how about you, ma'am?"
"yeah, good," you mumble, before landing on the page you need. "right. so, today i'll need you to chase up odinson industries for an update on the caldwell property. they've been delaying it for far too fucking long; just do your best to find out when the insurance bullshit will be sorted out."
"on it," bucky replies, scribbling down on his notepad, before glancing up. "also, about the mansion up on dewberry street - i managed to track down the paperwork we needed. whenever you're ready, we can go ahead and sell it."
your eyes light up at his news. you honestly didn't think he had it in him. "good boy."
his breath hitches in his throat, but you barely hear it. while you continue walking him through what he needs to do today, he rubs his boner in an attempt to alleviate some of the pain. the way your tits are so obviously not caged by a bra in your low-cut shirt has been driving him insane since the meeting began, your sultry voice going straight to his cock with every word you say.
good boy. good boy. good boy.
fuck. his cock's out his pants. when did that happen?
"maximoff interiors are being assholes and upping their price for that shitty faux leather they use," you grumble. "i need you to email tim in budgeting and schedule a meeting between him and i for friday. any time between 1 and 5."
"y-yeah, will do, ma'am," bucky replies weakly, shamelessly jerking off at this point. it isn't like you're looking up, anyway, and he can't fucking help himself. your nipples are sitting hard under the thin material, making his cock twitch.
"thank you," you mutter, before looking up.
his eyes are shut, his bottom lip trembling, and his left arm is suspiciously moving up and down.
"are you masturbating?"
his actions immediately stop and his eyes burst wide open. mortified, he stumbles over his words. "i- i don't- no-"
"how fucking pathetic are you?" you ask him with narrow eyes. "touching yourself while your boss talks about work?"
bucky gulps, his eyes glossing over. he is so fucking fired. his dad's gonna kill him.
"rubbing your little cock over my voice?" you go on, a devilish look on your face. "or is it my tits that you can't stop staring at?"
a shaky breath leaves his mouth. "ma'am-"
"keep going," you order him curtly. "keep touching yourself like the desperate little thing you are."
his fingers wrap back around his shaft. is he dreaming?
"such a dumb little boy," you mutter. "can't even go half a fucking hour without your cock getting hard."
bucky lets out a feeble whimper, stroking himself up and down.
"what are you waiting for, hmm? show me it," you demand him. "unless it's as fucking pathetic as you, that is."
nervously, he brings his hand up to the laptop screen before pushing it down, angling it so you can see his entire cock. fuck. it's a lot bigger and thicker than you were expecting, and you almost drool.
"fuck, baby," you whisper. "move the laptop further back. wanna see your pretty face."
he does as you say, quickly pushing his laptop backwards.
"take off your shirt," you say. "quickly."
he obeys, practically ripping apart his buttons as he rushes to get shirtless for you. one of his hands runs down his impressive abs, making you smirk as he puts on a little show for you.
"such a slut," you mumble. "so quick to do exactly as i say. you know how inappropriate you're being right now?"
"yes, ma'am," bucky answers you.
"keep going," you say. "spit on your cock for me."
leaning his head forward, he lets a long string of saliva escape his mouth and fall onto the head of his dick, before it slides down his shaft. he rubs it all around, lubricating it. a low groan leaves his mouth as he looks up at you, before biting his lip. the way you're watching him, fully clothed, only makes it hotter.
"james, i want you to rub your balls for me," you tell him. "do it."
he does, bringing his free hand to his balls. you see him tugging on them, making you smirk.
"harder," you say sternly. "make it fucking hurt. you like that, don't you? you like when it hurts?"
bucky nods adamantly, weak gasps and moans escaping his mouth. "fuck. oh, fuck."
"that's right, just like that," you egg him on. "doing so good for me. doesn't it feel good, being my obedient little boy?"
"yes, ma'am," he whines, bucking his hips up. "so good. thank you, ma'am, making me feel so good."
"have you got any toys, baby?" you ask him teasingly. "a naughty slut like you, you definitely have something to fuck, don't you?"
he groans, reaching off-camera before pulling out a fleshlight. you almost laugh at how typical he is.
"i bet you fuck that thing so hard, don't you?" you ask him with a smirk. "fill it with your cum, over and over again, like the dirty boy you are?"
"yes, ma'am," he cries, pumping his cock faster. "i imagine it's you." shit. he was not supposed to admit that.
you laugh darkly at his revelation, raising a brow. "is that right? you fantasize about fucking your boss?"
"every damn morning and night," he breathes out, his bicep flexing as he jerks off harder.
"fuck it, now," you say flatly. "show me how you do it, baby."
his dick is slick with spit and pre-cum, so he doesn't need to lube the toy up before pushing it inside. immediately, he groans lowly, slowly pumping it up and down.
the view makes your cunt clench around nothing. desperately, he fucks the fleshlight hard and fast, letting out loud moans.
"just like that, good boy," you praise him with a smile. "such a dirty little boy for me."
"m- ma'am," he cries, fucking up into it. "i'm gonna cum."
"take your cock out," you order him. "i wanna watch you cum all over yourself."
he does as you say, throwing the fleshlight to the side and replacing it with his hand.
"mommy," he whispers almost inaudibly, triggering something in you.
"say it again," you demand. "louder."
"fuck, mommy," he cries, throwing his head back. "so fucking good."
"what do you think about?" you ask him. "when you imagine fucking me?"
bucky groans, looking back down at the screen. "i think about you riding me. your tits bouncing up and down, while i fuck your brains out."
your legs squeeze together at his words, and you bite your lips. "wanna see them, baby? wanna see mommy's tits?"
"please," he begs with wonder in his eyes. "please, mommy, i need your tits so bad."
deciding to spoil him, you slowly roll up your shirt, letting your breasts spill out. he uses his free hand to grab his phone while continuing to jerk off and hoping you don't notice him taking a picture of your boobs. you do, but you don't mention it. you know he isn't the type to boast.
"oh, my god," he groans, staring at your hard nipples. "you're so fucking beautiful, mommy."
"thank you, baby," you say sweetly, before pulling and twisting your nipples, making yourself moan.
unable to hold back, bucky cums right then, shooting his hot seed all over his chest with a loud grunt. "oh, fuck!" he yells, bucking his hips up as his cum drips down his abs. "so good, mommy, so good."
you let out a content sigh as he jerks himself off through his orgasm, stopping once he's spent. slowly, you pull your top back down, giving him a smirk.
"i'll call you tonight for an update on where you get at with those tasks," you say casually.
"yes, ma'am," bucky replies through heavy breaths, his eyelids fluttering as the aftershocks of his orgasm shoot through his body.
smiling, you shoot him a wink. "good boy."
bucky masterlist
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