ꫂ᭪݁ 𝑱𝑼𝑳𝑬𝑺 ᥫ᭡ ⋆ 18 ⋆ she/her ❀ ⋆ @gardeniaasonthetile on the down low⋆ 𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐯𝐞 𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐭𝐨𝐧’𝐬 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐫𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐢𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐲 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐠 𝐠𝐟 ٠࣪⭑ ⋆ avid fake scenario creator ⋆ most likely drafting new ideas while my wip overflows ˙⋆ i ᰔ djo! ˙⋆✮
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gator on top, your legs spread wide and him putting just the tip in and legit jerking himself off into your pussy, his hand moving over himself fast, faster, fastfastfast until he nuts shallowly right in you, his come collecting just inside your hot, wet channel. you sob a little with desperation as he holds your cunt open, spreading your creamy slit apart with his thumbs, watching his release drool back out of you, right in his face
you beg him for his mouth, for something more—anything more—but all he does it push it back in, his fingers flat against your slit, rubbing side to side over your hole before he finally crooks two fingers into you, playing with his come, scissoring his fingers apart before he straightens up and fucks his thick, fat, heavy cock right back into you.
his come oozes out around him, rolling down your labia on either side of his length in thick rivulets as he moves into you, hips slamming yours, balls slapping your ass, and he comes again deep inside you, filling you for real this time.
he lays down, has you climb up and sit on his face, spreading your arousal and his release all over his nose and mouth and lips and tongue as you just grind down against him, dirtying both of you—your cunt your thighs, his cheeks his chin—with one hand on his hip, the other jerking him off again.
he comes weakly with a groan, just a scant little dribble rolling down the side of his cock as you finally get your chance and come on his tongue, the squelching squeeze of your cunt as you finish pushing his release back out of you onto his waiting mouth and chin. it drips down his neck, collecting in the hollow of his throat as you push down hard against his face, feeling his body stutter beneath you for a moment bc he can’t breathe, but fuck if he’s gonna let you pull away for something as trivial as air.
he holds you there tight against him by your thighs until you finish, your hand loosely wrapped around his softening prick, lowering your front to his, body pliant and twitchy as all hell when you slide off of him, the gasping breath you allow him to take full of contentment, fulfillment—satisfaction.
𝐓𝐈𝐌𝐄 𝐃𝐑𝐀𝐆𝐒 𝐎𝐍, I HATE HIM 𝐅𝐎𝐑 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐓𝐈𝐌𝐄 𝐇𝐄'𝐒 𝐆𝐎𝐍𝐄, 𝐈'𝐕𝐄 𝐁𝐄𝐄𝐍 𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐄 𝐅𝐎𝐑 WEEKS, 𝐈'𝐕𝐄 𝐁𝐄𝐄𝐍 𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐄 𝐅𝐎𝐑 YEARS, 𝐈'𝐕𝐄 𝐁𝐄𝐄𝐍 𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐄 TOO LONG
PAIRING older brothers best friend! steve x reader
SUMMARY in which you've had a crush on your older brother's best friend since you were kids. now grown up and returning home from college for the summer, bad decisions are made after you're forced into a motel together on a stormy night.
WARNINGS 18+ MDNI smut, she fell first he fell harder, fingering, unprotected p in v, spanking (like one time lmfao), dirty talk, nipple play, sweet stevie, close proximity, adult language, steve is 1-2 years older than reader
WORD COUNT 8.4k
Steve Harrington had been in your house for as long as you can remember, that eventually after years, you stopped thinking of him as just your brother’s annoying friend who just so happened to be cute.
He existed naturally in the way he had become a part of the house itself like the way the kitchen light flickered above the stove your mother always nagged at your father to fix or that one warped floorboard outside your bedroom that always creaked.
Steve was just there. Mostly because of his emotionally negligent home life. He would always be draped over the couch with your brother with his stupid spiderman printed socked feet he'd get embarrassed about, kicked onto the coffee table. He would rummage through the cabinets for snacks he didn't ask for permission to eat or laugh way too loudly at midnight while your mother had yelled from upstairs for the boys to keep it down.
You grew up around the sound of his voice and the smell of his cologne that trailed through hallways after basketball games. Around the low rumble of his prized BMW pulling into the driveway to pick up your brother. His stupidly bright smile and the way he effortlessly moved through rooms had always irked you the most.
When you were little, Steve treated you in that affectionately dismissive way most young boys do with their best friend's siblings.
"Move, airhead," "Quit following us," "Tell your brother he still owes me five bucks!"
There had never been cruelty in his voice or irritation enough to hurt you. Sometimes when your brother got irritated with you or ignored you, Steve didn’t and instead gave you a sense of understanding.
At ten years old, you were sitting cross legged in the living room, watching the two of them play video games on your brother's Atari for hours. When Steve handed you a third controller after your brother complained you were annoying, you pretended your heart didn't skip a beat. Despite being terrible at every game, Steve let you play anyway.
At twelve years old, you had scraped your knee badly against asphalt when trying to skateboard down the Harrington's driveway after overhearing Steve mention he thought girls who skate were 'cool.' You remember sitting on the pavement blinking back tears while your brother had cackled and Steve crouched down in front of you with a sigh.
"Why are you always getting yourself hurt." He'd said, his hands gently pushing your sock down to your ankle. "Were you trying to kill yourself?"
You had only shrugged out of embarrassment.
Even then, he had disappeared into his house before coming back with bandages and peroxide. The smell had been medicinal in the hot summer air and he'd sat cleaning the blood from your knee.
At fifteen years old, your crush had become something incurable. The year Steve had started driving. The year he started showing up on the driveway in his burgundy BMW with one hand lazily hooked over the steering wheel and his sunglasses hiding half his face while girls from school had prayed to get his attention. It'd also been the age silly jealousy had warped your heart.
You knew Steve Harrington was someone you'd never get close to touching. He belonged to everybody and that was the problem.
At sixteen years old, every girl in town had a story about him, but also forgave him too easily when he had reached that stage in his life where he'd been known as the charming, wealthy, party boy who knew his way around. Eventually, he'd calmed down despite having the certain cockiness to him you'd always known.
But there were fragile moments where the performance would slip.
Late nights when your brother had gone upstairs to watch TV, Steve would sink further into the couch with an exhausted look on his face. Sometimes your mother would hand him leftovers wrapped in foiled. He would just smile with gratitude and pull her in for a hug.
The nights he stayed over were your favorite.
One time you woke up at two in the morning for water. When you walked downstairs, you would find him knocked out on the couch with one arm thrown his face. He'd always been such a restless sleeper.
Looking back, maybe you had started loving him in those moments, not just a silly crush.
Deep down, you knew it was because you knew a version of him nobody else knew, a version that was just him and not King Steve.
You knew the way he got quieter when something bothered him, the way he tapped his fingers when anxious, and the way he hated going home more than he would ever admit out loud.
By your junior year of college, at twenty years old, you had gotten good at convincing yourself you were over Steve Harrington. Distance helped, especially when Purdue University was four hours from Hawkins.
Classes, new friends, late night walks across campus with music playing in your headphones, and boys who flirted with you had given you experiences that you almost forgot about a version of yourself that doodled in her notebook over a boy with big brown eyes.
Steve had become someone easier to manage when he had only existed mostly through rushed stories from your brother on phone calls.
Steve got promoted. Steve got into some fight at a bar and lost. Steve was seeing some girl. Steve bought a new car.
He couldn't touch your life anymore.
Until May.
Finals week had exhausted everyone by the time summer break finally arrived. Outside your dorm window, students drag bags down sidewalks, the sky gray and threatening rain. You can only hope the weather doesn't worsen.
The telephone begins to ring on your nightstand. Walking over and removing it from the hook, you wedge it between your shoulder.
"Hello?" You answer distracted, struggling to zip your duffel bag.
"Your brother's an asshole."
You freeze, stomach fluttering. His voice was still able to do that to you. "Well, hello to you to. You sound so surprised." You managed.
"I am," Steve replied. "He told me he forgot he promised to pick you up and he already made plans, which is now my problem somehow."
"Sooo, you're coming instead?"
"Yeah, unfortunately."
"You're such a gentleman," You croon, tossing your duffel bag aside. "Will you help me with my bags too?'
"You know I will." "I'm calling from this diners telephone box, had to take a bathroom break because the drive is so damn long."
"Tell me about it. Why do you think I wanted someone else to do the driving for me in the first place?"
"You sneaky little witch. Just using people aren’t you?" He comments, making you laugh. "Anyways, I'm like twenty minutes away. Try not to bring your whole dorm with you."
The line clicks dead before you can answer and place the phone back into it's rightful place.
Immediately, you hate yourself for checking your reflection in the mirror to check your hair. On instinct, you reach for your lip gloss and swipe it against your lips.
This was so ridiculous. You were twenty, not fourteen anymore, yet you were hyperaware of everything about you all because Steve Harrington was about to drive four hours alone with you.
By the time you have your bags ready and make your way outside after checking out your dorm, you spot the BMW parked against the pavement. Girls passing turned to look as Steve stepped out from the driver's seat as rain began to fall. Some things never changed did they?
Your stomach drops at the sight of him. He looked different, less boyishly pretty and now more manly. His shoulders broader beneath his dark blue crewneck and fitting his arms just right.
Steve uses one hand to push back his damp hair from his forehead and his eyes land on you, making you freeze. He smirks, calling out, "Hey! You coming?"
You roll your eyes, walking over. "You were supposed to be here ten minutes ago."
"Sorry, traffic backed up from the rain." He frowns and takes a quick glance at his watch. "If we go now we should be fine though."
He takes the largest bag from you, tossing it over his shoulder, before you can argue. Steve opens the trunk, tucking in the bag and reaching a hand out in gesture for you to hand him the rest.
"Your roommates going to miss you at all?" He asks, shutting the trunk and locking it with the keys.
"Mmm, yeah I think so. One of them cried."
He lets out a low whistle, "Damn. You breaking hearts at Purdue now? I thought you were sweet?"
"Shut up." You snort. "I doubt she'll send a postcard anyways. She only used me for homework answers in statistics."
"No worries, we'll have a better summer without people like that. Like old times." He grins in the familiar way you knew.
Steve opens the passenger door and flashes you a wink. "After you."
You just smile, sitting down and adjusting the seat to your height as he shuts the door behind you, jogging around the hood of the car before the rain could get you both anymore wet.
Steve slides into the driver's seat, starting the heater to warm up. He inserts the keys into the ignition, giving it a couple turns, and sighs. "You hungry?"
"Ummm, a little." You confess.
"There's leftover fries in the bag from the diner if you want some" He turns over the seat as he backs the car out of is spot, managing to grab the paper bag sitting behind. "They got kinda wet though."
You eye the soaking wet paper bag and scrunch your nose, "What the hell, Steven. You're disgusting."
"What! They're still good!"
"Soggy fries are good? Would you eat those?" You deadpan, raising a brow.
There's a pause of silence until, "...Nah. Maybe you're right." He coughs and clears his throat. "We'll grab some dinner in a couple hours in the next town. Promise."
You laugh despite yourself and turn your head to look outside the window, watching as the campus begins to empty out, students hugging goodbye and loading up cars.
Steve glances at your direction briefly as you begins to make a turn out of the campus, "You going to miss it?"
"Huh? Purdue?"
"Mhm."
You hum, pondering for a moment. Sure, you'd been homesick when you'd started, but overtime you'd found another place and friends to call home. Out the window, you watch the buildings blur past as you drive farther. Finally, you admit, "Yeah, more than I thought I would. I'll probably try and make plans for my friend Beth to come down to Hawkins."
"Do you like being away?" He asks, one hand resting loosely on the steering wheel while the other tapped against his thigh. "From Hawkins, I mean."
Truthfully, no. You liked being able to ignore your feelings, but you didn't like not being able to communicate with loved ones mostly through mail and telephone.
"I like..." You stop to carefully consider your words. "being somewhere where nobody knows every single thing about me. So, no and yes."
"Yeah, that sounds nice. I don't blame you." Steve gives a faint smile.
The roads begin to stretch longer as buildings become fields then empty highways, Steve cautiously keeping distance from other cars.
You blow a puff of air, bored, reaching into the dashboard to search through Steve's collection of cassette tapes. Steve catches you from the corner of his eyes. He clicks his tongue, "Hey, you thief. What do you think you're doing?"
"Playing music?" You snip as if it's obvious. "It's too quiet in here that it's going to drive me insane."
"Is my own voice not enough for you?" He mockingly pouts but snatches the cassette of your choice out of your hand, inserting it into the player of the radio.
"You'll never be Bruce Springsteen, sorry to tell you."
"Are you still seeing that girl?" You ask, trying to sound casual.
Steve looked confused, "What girl?"
"The one Anthony mentioned. Blonde, brown eyes, in STEM..." You explain, listing of the traits your older brother had mentioned over the phone last Winter. You remember hooking up with some guy afterwards.
He huffs a laugh, "Oh. No."
"What do you mean no?" You press.
"That lasted like two months. It's been long done." He says casually as if it had been nothing. You truly thought he'd liked her, even if she'd been one of many girlfriends that wouldn't work out.
"What happened? I thought you liked her?"
He pursed his lips, "I mean, yeah she was nice."
Steve seemed almost reluctant, like there was more to the story than he wanted to give.
"Anddd?"
"And that's it." He sighs. "Look, I could give a thousand of excuses of why it didn't work but I can't besides saying I just wasn't feeling anything. Nice isn't enough and I didn't want to waste her time."
"Oh..." You say.
You'd be lying if you said you were disappointed at the fact his love life had once again failed. You're a horrible and selfish person, you think.
"Plus, I think I've made too much mistakes doing that in the past. It wouldn't be fair, y'know?"
"Growing up, Harrington?"
"Watch it," He scolds.
You stick your tongue out playfully before resuming your session of staring out the window in distraction of your nerve wracking thoughts and the fact Steve was sitting a foot away.
Shivering, the feel goosebumps rise on your arms and you rub your hands against them in hope to ease.
Steve seems notice and frowns, glimpsing at you before turning back to the road. "Are you still cold?"
"Nope."
"Liar," He chuckles. Turning the heater on with the dial, he reaches his arm behind his seat afterwards, grabbing hold of a folded up blanket and tosses it to you.
"Oh, no, no, Steve. You don't have--" You reassure, holding your hands up.
"I know, it's okay." He cuts you off. "Just give it back when you're done. We both know you're a thief."
"Yeah, yeah."
The droplets of ran pounds against the windshield, the dark clouds swirling in the sky as thunder erupts threateningly. It stirs fear in your chest, heart picking up its pace.
"Shit, it's getting bad." Steve points out. Trying to ease the mood, he jokes. "Think some force of nature is trying to kill us?"
"I don't know about me, but maybe just you. I hope the lightning picks you over me once we get out." You sass.
His mouth is gaped in shock. Finally, he says under his breath, "Psycho."
You try to focus on the music the next couple of minutes, but you can’t stand the silence between the two of you.
After years, you always want to know every single detail about him, to hear him talk about the special things his life and what he has going for him.
Every time you hope it’s something good. It’s all he’s ever deserved.
"How's work? Aren't you doing this whole coaching gig?"
"Don't forget sex ed teacher on the side. But, yeah, it's great so far." He seems to light up, happy you asked. "Really great."
He switches lanes before he continued, "For so long I was so confused and didn't know what I wanted, but now? I don't think I've been happier. Sure, my dad thinks the pay is shit, but at least I'm doing something with my life now."
“I think it’s good, Steve. You’re starting somewhere and I think it fits you perfectly.”
He’s shy then and goes quiet. You think the conversation is done with until:
"I- I really want to try college again. Get a degree in physical education. I know, it probably sounds stupid. I slacked so much in High School. I cared too much about the wrong things, now I'm paying for it."
Your heart breaks at his self deprecation. He’s always struggled with his self esteem underneath all that confidence he paraded around with. Deep down, he just wanted to be worth something in anothers eyes.
"It's not silly, not at all." You study him, staring at the slope of his nose down to the shadow of stubble along his jaw. "A lot of people lose their way too like you did, and you found your way back. You're trying and I think that's enough to be proud of, Stevie."
Steve gives you a quick look of shock, blood rushing to his cheeks.
"Thanks." He coughs before the corner of his mouth quirks up. "You're still holding on to that nickname? Jeez, you don't change."
"It reminds me of Fleetwood, it's cute!" You protest.
"Okay, then." He simply laughs.
"The more you hate it, the more I'm going to keep using it."
"Uh huh,"
Rain slammed against the windshield so violently that Steve had to lean forward, squinting his eyes to get a good look at the road. The wipers moved back and forth as the highway stretched ahead, the only thing visible being the headlights illuminating the road and the flashes of lightning in the sky.
Suddenly, the car swerves slightly, making you gasp. Before your brain can process, Steve's arm is bracing against your chest and pushing you back against the seat.
"Fucking hell," He curses, glaring daggers at the truck that zooms past. Steve removes his arm and asks, "You okay?"
Placing a hand over your chest, you nod. "Shit, yeah. It happened so quick, I wasn't expecting it."
Steve hums in agreement and directs his attention back to the road where water pools and the wind starts push hard enough against the BMW that your stomach hurts.
"Damn it," He mutters, directing the car to pull off to the next exit that definitely wasn't part of your plans. "We're not going to be able to make it back tonight. I'm not trying to have us soaring off a cliff when there's idiots who can't drive."
You sit up straighter, frowning, "What're we doing then if not going home?"
Steve rubs a hand across his jaw tiredly, "There should be a motel like ten minutes off this exit. We can grab food before we get a room. We'll just leave in the morning when this calms down."
Calm down, you think. Sharing a room with Steve Harrington sounds terrifying in theory, but what other choice did you have? This was the practical choice, you'd be stupid if you let your feelings get in the way of your safety.
"Unless you'd rather we soar off the cliff to our deaths?" Steve jokes in attempt to lighten the mood.
You'll be fine.
You wave a hand in dismissal and laugh, "Whatever. Yeah, the motel should be fine."
"And if we get murdered? We'll just haunt Anthony and tell him this was mostly his fault."
That was not comforting.
The motel, when you arrived after thirty minutes of driving in pouring rain and a quick fast food pick up, was old but comfortable looking enough that you were able to feel relieved.
The sign buzzed as streams of water poured off the roof. The parking lot was nearly empty except for Steve's BMW and an old truck. Inside, the lobby air smelled faintly like burnt coffee and mildew.
"I'm scared Steve," You whisper, eyeing your surroundings as Steve signed the check in receipt. "What if we get murdered like you said--"
"Okay, first of all, I was joking." Steve says, taking the room key from the old woman behind the desk, who didn't bother to look up from her crossword puzzle. "Second, you watch way too much movies. I think they're starting to rot your brain."
"Have you seen 'Psycho?' That could--"
"Relax!" Steve gives you an incredulous look as if he's unsure whether to laugh. He grabs the greasy paper bag from you. "Let's go to our room, eat, shower, and before you know it you'll feel fine. C'mon."
When you and Steve walk outside and up the rickety stairs to unlock your room, you’re met with the sight of a muted floral bedspread and a television sitting on the dresser. One bed.
"Shit, I asked for a two bed." Steve scoffs and tosses your duffel on the bed along with his overnight bag. Thankfully he came prepared based on weather before he left. "You want me to go ask for a new room?"
Not wanting to complain, you shake your head nervously, "No, this is fine."
Steve just nods, seating himself down at the edge of the bed with a long exhale. You stand still, unable to move from your spot. Maybe it was because there was no brother nearby, no parents, and no friends, but just the two of you in such a vulnerable space.
Steve yawns with a stretch, "You can go ahead and shower first."
You nod, practically running to the shower. The bathroom fills with steam as you turn the faucet, undressing and stepping inside.
You find yourself standing beneath the hot water longer necessary, letting the heat unknot the stiffness aching in your shoulders. Your thoughts felt loud. This is ridiculous, nothing is happening and is going to happen. Steve is Steve, your brother's best friend who you've spent majority of your life trying not to embarrass yourself around. You're going to go back in there and act normal. You'll be back on the road before you know it.
When you finally emerged from the bathroom, the sound of the microwave beeps and you smell the delicious scent of fries and burgers. Steve turns his head, pulling both yours and his food out on to plates.
"You took forever. Were you swimming in there?" He says, handing you your plate before he goes to sit cross legged on the bed against the headboard.
"You're so dramatic, it was only thirty minutes." You join him and take a bite out of your burger.
"Thirty minutes too long," He quips, grabbing the remote and flipping through the television channels. "So, what are we in the mood for, Seinfeld or Beverly Hills? Take your pick."
"Seinfeld. I don't have the attention span for dramatics right now," You reply, stealing one of Steve's fries.
"Seinfeld it is," Steve muses and throws the remote away.
The tv plays on the next twenty minutes as the two of you eat, the episode plot being one of the character's apartments getting robbed, leading to an argument over who gets to move into a new apartment. You weren't paying attention much if you were being honest, more focused on the heat of his body next to you and trying not to seem obviously affected.
"Y'know..." Steve starts and you recognize his familiar tone of mischief. "this episode kind of reminds me of all the arguments you and Anthony have."
You turn to look at him, raising a brow. "Yeah because he's hardheaded."
"Must be a genetic thing." He muses, not turning his gaze away from the screen.
You gasp, smacking his arm. "Don't compare me to him! He's ten times worse than I'll ever be."
"Oh trust me, I believe you." He ponders for a moment before breaking into laughter. "Shit, remember when he jumped off the roof to backflip into my parent's pool?"
In fact, you do. It was one of your favorite embarrassing moments to blackmail your older brother with. He'd been bawling all the way to the emergency room while your mother laid it into him.
"Yes! He's was so stupid. I even told him it probably wasn't a good idea, but no, he insisted he'd look like those superheros from those comics you guys liked so much." You scoffed.
"Man, my mom was so pissed."
"Well, you technically encouraged him on, so I'd be too." He only laughs at your words, giving you a small nudge.
The conversation from there unraveled from one memory to another before you knew it as time passed. From middle school disasters of your brother getting into ridiculous fights, terrible haircuts you cried your eyes out over and threatened to never step outside again, and to Steve accidentally lighting fireworks too close to the garage one Fourth of July, the two of you laugh as you bond over the past.
Steve remembered everything which you couldn't decide was good or bad, especially since he remembered the most embarrassing moments like the time he and Anthony walked in on you kissing your James Spader poster in High School.
"You got so red that you yelled at us to get out," Steve cackled while laying on his side, hand rested under his chin, full attention now only on you.
"I was 15! That was traumatizing! How would you feel if someone walked in on you and found your old magazine collection under your bed."
"Shut up."
"Nope," You say, popping the p.
The both of you watch about three more episodes before trash is discarded in the can next to the bed and somewhere along the way the lamp on the nightstand is turned off, the room lit up only by the blue screen of the television.
"Anyone special in your life?" Steve randomly asks, sounding almost playful if you ignored the weird tone. "Only fair I ask you since you interrogated me earlier."
"Pft, no not really. Robin keeps trying to set me up with this guy though."
"Oh." There's a weird pause. "Are you gonna...see him or anything?"
You scrunch your nose and turn away from the TV. "Uhh I don't know? Why?"
Steve's teeth a clenched, body going rigid. He scoots away to give some space and now you know something is deeply wrong. "No reason just-- I don't know. Maybe you should let her."
"Steve, I don't even know the guy."
"So? If you like him then you like him" He shrugs, resting his weight by laying his palms flat on the bed.
Since when did he dictate what you do or don't do with your life and your romantic life at that.
You stand abruptly and cross your arms over your chest. “Why the hell are you so mad? I never even said I liked him.”
"Whatever." He scoffs.
"Why do you even care?"
"I don't"
"Then why are you acting weird!" You yell, wincing. You don't need the owner marching down here and banging at the door.
He doesn't answer, turning back to the television instead. You know he's just trying to avoid the confrontation of whatever was going on in that head of his. You hated how stubborn he could be.
Fine, he wants to act that way? You'll let him.
"I need air." You announce and start to head towards the door, hand already turning the knob.
The seems to alert him because he snaps his heads, face falling. "Wait- shit- no. I'm sorry."
“Leave me alone.” You snapped.
"I don't know what's up with me, seriously." He pleads. You can tell he's apologetic and not just saying mindless sorrys just to get you to shut up. "Please, I'm sorry. It's raining"
You want to be mad and leave him alone in the dark, probably go to the nearest vending machine and grab a snack, sit somewhere so the rain doesn't soak you.
But you don't have it in you.
"Fine."
"C'mere." Steve said quietly, making your stomach drop.
He gestures with his hand, sitting upright now, facial expression calm and giving you the opportunity to say no. Except, you don't want to.
Your body is moving before you can stop yourself, sitting yourself back on the bed, scooting closer to him and sitting on your knees, brushing against his own. The feeling of his leg against you is enough to stir excitement deep in your belly.
Neither of you speak, the only sound in the room being your breathing, the rain tapping against the window with the occasional crackle of lightning, and your heartbeat thundering in your ears.
Was this actually happening or were you deluded?
“‘M sorry…”
“It’s…it’s okay, Stevie.” You say shakily.
“I just get…” He doesn’t finish his sentence, chewing his lip.
His fingers brush against your jaw, thumb caressing your cheek. You shiver at the contact. "What are you thinking?" He murmurs.
"That--" You swallowed. "that I don't know if I'm dreaming or not."
"I'm right here," He hums, his eyes gazing down at your lips. He nibbles at him bottom lip as if he were fighting temptation. "are you?"
"Am I what?"
"Here with me."
Your tongue feels heavy in your mouth and you nod, "Yeah...I am, Steve."
His lips slowly catch your own, molding together as you gasp against his, before slowly letting yourself melt into his warmth. Your hand catches against the front of his shirt as the kiss deepens.
It was warm and dizzying, so different and overwhelming compared to fantasies you'd imagined over the years.
You'd been completely wrong about Steve being a great kisser. He was momentous and no man you'd been with before could compare to the way his hands drifted down to your waist, drawing you closer onto his lap.
Steve rubs a hand up and down your spine, sneaking a hand under your top. His hands are warm against the coolness of your skin, his whole presence inviting.
His hand leaves and he pulls at the hem of your top. "Off." He orders, no questioning in his tone.
Inclined to listen, you throw your tank over your head, the air hitting your naked breasts and torso immediately.
You feel sheepish when Steve's hazel eyes unapologetically stare hard at your breasts, his tongue darting out to wet his lips. A soft sound leaves his swollen lips as he brings his hands up to give an experimental squeeze.
When you let a whimper slip, unable to contain it, Steve smiles. "So fucking pretty. Are they sensitive, hm?"
You bite the inside of your cheek, wanting to play around a bit just to see what he'd do, so, you shake your head. "No."
"Really? Not even if I..." He mused and pinches your nipples, causing you to jolt. "do this?"
"Shit!" You're so wet by anything he does, even a little bit of touching your damn tits had your panties sticking to your pussy. "Want more...please."
"Yeah?" Steve peppers kisses against your jaw and makes his way down to your neck, chest, and ending at your sternum. "Gonna suck these pretty tits then."
You suck in a sharp breath when his lips wrap around your right bud while his hand teases the left, thumb rolling it in between his thumb and index. He gives a couple of suckles and flicks his tongue against your right, moaning. Steve could cum in his pants right here right now by simply doing this, nothing else.
You mewl, your fingers gliding into his brunette strands of hair and tugging them hard. Steve hisses at the pain but makes no move to stop you, giving your nipple a scolding bite before moving to your left one to give it the same treatment.
If you weren't so distracted, you'd be nonstop apologizing.
Steve moves his right hand, exploring down your navel into your pj shorts. They come off and you're left in just your panties. Giving one last harsh suck to your breast, he pulls off to stare you deep in the eyes, his pupils dilated, "You're so beautiful..." Steve traces the outline of your clothed pussy with his fingers, ghosting over your sensitive clit. You shiver and dig your nails into his shoulder. "prettiest girl I've ever seen."
"You're just saying that," You giggle, avoiding eye contact as he takes off your panties, a your wetness clinging to it before snapping.
His thick brows furrow and says sternly, "I'm not. You know why?"
"...Why?"
"Because," He starts, teasing his middle and ring finger against your hole before dipping them inside with an obscene wet sound. Your breath stutters at feeling of them beginning to move in and out of you with practiced skill. "besides you obviously being fucking gorgeous, you're also the same person who has the biggest heart I know."
"Th- that's-- fuh-- ckk-- you." You moan, eyes shutting closed. He spreads his fingers, scissoring your walls and stretching them wide.
"Not at all. You? You look at people with the kindest eyes and care about everybody, you always have. You remember the smallest details people tell you, you sit with them when they're hurting, you're funny without trying," He laughs, finding your sweet spot and prodding at it. "and you make every room warmer when you walk in. I mostly like how you cry over the silliest movies."
"I do all that...?" You slur.
"Mhm. Dunno how you see the beauty in everyone but miss it all in yourself."
His praise hits you like a truck and you can practically feel a heartbeat within your cunt, your walls squeezing tightly around his fingers, not wanting him to leave.
Needing more, you begin to lift your hips up and down, bouncing and steadying your weight by grabbing on to his shoulders.
“Yeah, that’s it. Ride my fingers justtt like that.” He coos, meeting every roll of your hips with a curl of his fingers against your walls.
Your lashes flutter against your cheeks and you let out a low whine. Cunt sucking in his fingers, you lift the weight of your body up and down, up and down, attempting to reach the peak of pleasure you so desperately longed for.
“Steve. Mfmh…feels so good.”
“What does honey? C’mon, tell me.” He hums, pressing wet kisses against the nape of your throat until he elicits a whimper out of you, confirming that he’s found that certain spot that turns you into mush.
“Your fingers,” You pant, grinding harder down on his hand. “so thick and so deep in me."
You let out a ragged whine at the pressure slowly building up deep in your lower belly.”
Steve groans, smacking your ass in response. “Love that you talk so fucking nasty.” He begins to speed up, the pads of his index and middle pressing deep inside you. You arch your back with a cry. “You close? I can feel it with how tight this pretty wet pussy is getting.”
You nod profusely, wrapping your arms around his neck and hiding your face in it with a moan. Your hips and thighs begin to ache, your movements beginning to slow.
“Yeah, mhm- but can’t- ” You said, grabbing Steve’s wrist pleadingly. “Steve…”
“You’re already tired, honey?” He clicks his tongue in faux sympathy, but nonetheless holds you down to force you still, thrusting his fingers up into you. “Well, that can’t do. Can’t leave my pretty girl hanging.”
"'m cumming, m' cumming, oh fuckkkk--" The second his thumb hits your clit, rubbing firm circles, your orgasm crashes over you like a dam and you cum with a broken moan, your words spilling out.
He hasn't even fucked you properly yet and you already feel dumbed out.
Steve’s fingers continue for a minute to help you ride it out before he pulls them out, slipping them into his mouth. "So good."
You lift your head from his shoulder, mouth dropping in shock as he sucks your arousal clean from him. The heat of embarrassment hits you and you feel inclined to look away from the dirty sight yet you can’t pull away.
His fingers leave his mouth with a pop and he moans in satisfaction. A dirty part of you secretly wishes he’d shove them in your mouth.
Steve shifts you off his lap and lays you down on your back oh so gently, kissing you in between words, “Trust me,” kiss. “I wanna get a real taste but,” kiss. “need to feel you around me real fucking bad.”
He pauses, pulling away to look at you, "Only if you want to though. I don't want to pressure you or anything--"
You pull him by the collar of his shirt for another kiss and he instantly smiles into it, tongue sliding against your bottom lip for permission. Parting your lips, his tongue slips inside, the wet muscle flicking against your own as it explores your mouth.
You both pull apart, the two of you breathing heavily. A string of saliva being the only thing connecting the two of you now.
"I want to." You say finally, staring up at the man you've yearned so long for, the man who'd always been so kind to you.
A grin tugs at Steve's lips and he sits back on his knees to pull his shirt off by the hem, revealing patches of hair on his chest leading down to the delicious happy trail down his soft tummy into his pants (he always complained he didn't have abs, but if anything you thought it was the hottest thing).
You note the thick bulge restrained by his jeans and suddenly you feel intimidated.
You'd heard the rumors before, rumors that made you pout in jealousy at one point in your life where you felt you could never know Steve in such a vulnerable way. You wouldn't believe yourself a year ago if you knew you'd be having sex with your older brother's best friend.
The metal of his belt clinks and he yanks the belt out of the loops and pulling down his jeans. After his boxers are off, your eyes widen at the sight of the thick hard cock slapping against his stomach.
Steve grunts, giving it a couple tugs. Like you suspected, the dark patches of hair trail down to the pubic hair tousled around his cock. It's long in length and incredibly girthy, the veins running up until the pink swollen head leaking with precum.
The thought of him fucking your throat and guiding you by your hair while praising you with sweet nothings while you gag, turns you on more than it should and you clench your thighs together.
He takes notice of your nerves and frowns, "What's wrong?"
"Nothing!" You say too quickly.
He shakes his head, "I wanna make this as comfortable for you as possible, so I need to know what's" He gently taps your forehead. "going on in that head of yours. Okay, honey?"
You're quiet, unsure whether it's such a miniscule thing to point out in the first place. Giving in, you mumble, "You're just...huge."
Steve blinks before he bursts into a fit of laughter, his eyes crinkling. You're absolutely mortified. "Don't laugh at me! You told me to tell you."
He stalls his laughter and is immediately crawling on top of you, brows furrowed in concern. "No, no, I'm not laughing at you, honey. I'm more so with..." His eyes flick down to his obvious erection. "the situation, I guess."
"...Is it even going to fit?"
He huffs a laugh, leaning in to give your forehead a quick kiss, "I'll make it, don't worry."
Shit.
"You trust me, honey?" He asks one more time.
Exhaling, you nod. "Yeah, yeah, I do."
Suddenly, his face drops and he curses, "Fuck, I don't have protection." He drags a hand through his hair. "I'm so sorry--"
"It's okay," You smile. "I have an IUD, should be fine."
He pauses, processing the information before returning your smile. "Alright then, you're full of surprises aren't you?"
"I'd say so," You shrug.
Nudging your legs apart with his knee, he readjusts and rests his left arm beside your head and uses his free hand to wrap around his dick, guiding the swollen tip to your leaking entrance.
He slides it up and down your slit before dragging it up to your clit, slapping it firmly a couple times, sending a jolt of pleasure.
"Put it in!" You complained.
He taunts, "I thought good girls were patient?"
"I am," You pout, bucking your hips up. "But it doesn't mean I don't want you to fuck me sensele--"
You're unable to finish your sentence, words breaking into a high pitched moan at the feeling of his huge cock intruding, the hot skin of him filling you whole as he bottoms out.
"You were saying?"
"Just- just move, please."
Steve starts off slow, moving his hips back and thrusting forward with a couple shallow thrusts before he grinds against you deeper than his fingers had been able to reach.
Picking up the pace, he draws his cock out all the way to barely the tip and slamming back in to begin a series of devoted thrusts.
Mewling, you slide your hands to his back, nails scratching against the skin of his shoulder blades. You tilt your head back, exposing your neck to him as you shamelessly moan. (The both of you should be expecting a complaint from the motel owner later...)
He leans down to lick the base of your neck, tongue flat as he drags up to a stop and sucking multiple spots, marks blooming as proof of the passionate night that will soon become a memory.
You feel grief knowing this will be over in just a few minutes, but you won't worry about that now, you'll just make the most of it.
The bed creaks under your weight, the rhythm of him fucking into you relentless with the disgustingly filthy sounds of skin slapping against skin.
"So goddamn tight and wet," He breathes into your neck. "this all for me?"
"Yes, yes," You urge him on, bucking your hips up to meet his thrusts and he moans. "all for you, Steve- mmf fuck."
"Yeahhh?" You can feel him smile against your skin, giving a couple more kisses before pulling back to get a good look at you. "All mine?"
Word coils at your throat, unable to fully get anything out besides broken sobs.
"C'mon baby. Talk to me like the good girl I know you are. Need to hear how good you feel as I fuck this tight pussy."
"Love you," You drawl out with a whine, squeezing your eyes shut. "Love you so much, Steve."
Suddenly, his hips come to a stop and you're left in confusion until it hits you. Oh no.
Eyes snapping wide, your palm slaps against your mouth as you stare up at Steve.
He looks like he’s seen a ghost, eyes wide, hair tousled in a mess, and he’s so still you can’t tell if he’s currently present in the moment or debating on packing and leaving you stranded in the motel.
You need him to say something, anything. Anything to reassures you didn’t destroy everything.
Blinking back tears threatening to spill, you start, “Steve—“
"You love me?" He whispers.
He’s going to curse you out, call you disgusting and a perverted loser who’d been pathetically yearning for someone that knew he wasn’t her own.
Don’t leave. Please.
"I'm so, so, so sorry Steve. Please just forget I said anything, I didn't mean to--"
He shuts you up with his lips crashing against yours and his thrusts resuming, the wet slap of his balls mixed with your arousal against the fat of your ass.
You cry out in surprise, legs immediately wrapping around his waist as his cock drives hard and fast in to you.
His thrusts grow frantic at your words, his free hand sliding under your lower back to lift your hips high as he keeps your grip on your right thigh, driving his swelling cock deeper. He kisses you sloppily, swallowing your whimpers as he whines against your mouth.
His thrusts grow messy and his hips stutter. Breaking away from you, a groan rattles through his chest, "Fuck, baby, fuck, fuck-- I can't hold it--"
With every hit of the bulbous tip against your g-spot, you feel closer and closer to the edge.
"'M gonna cum, Steve!"
"Shh, I know, baby," His jaw is tight, attempting to restrain himself from finishing before you. "I got you, I got you. 'M close too...tell me where you want it, 'kay?"
"Shittt-- inside." You gasp.
He moans loudly at your words, eyes fluttering, that he almost came right there. "Ah, fuckkk. You sure?"
Instead of answering, you press the heels of your feet against the dip of his back, pushing him forward and deeper into you, profusely nodding.
He doesn't have to ask again and jackhammering his hips against you until finally the band deep inside you snaps and you cum around him with a high pitched whine, arching your back.
Ropes of cum fill you as he releases with a groan, stilling his hips deep inside you and grinding deep against you to ride both of your orgasms out.
"Fucking love you so much," He pants, kissing you from your cheeks, forehead, jaw, and finally planting several on your swollen lips. "love you, love you, love you..."
Your heart does a flip. Did he truly mean it? Your mind had barely begun to return back to it's fully conscious state after mind blowing sex.
Trembles coursing through your legs, they weakly fall from Steve's waist.
It takes a minute for Steve to gain enough energy to pull his cock out before breathlessly slumping the weight of his body next to you. He pulls you against his chest without hesitation, so naturally that you don't know how to move forward from here.
"Did you..." You finally say as his free hand rubs up and down your thigh soothingly. "did you mean what you said?"
He stiffens, "What do you mean?" He knows exactly what you mean.
"That..." You gulped.
"That I love you?"
"Mhm."
"Of course I meant it," He smiles when your finger tips graze against his face, dragging against his moles delicately. "meant every single word. You're everything, y'know?"
You stop your movements and blink.
"Why are you looking at me like that?" He laughs awkwardly.
"Umm, like what?"
He groans, dragging a hand up his face. "Like- I don't know! Like you regret it or something."
"No, no, no," You shake your head, internally cursing at your own dumb silence for making him think otherwise. "that's not it, it's just that...it's just I'm having a hard time processing what just happened."
"Besides the obvious?" He raises a brow.
Immediately, you smack his chest and he just chuckles, grabbing your wrist and giving it a brief kiss.
"You know what I mean you big dummy." You roll your eyes before your tone grows serious, almost shy. “Just…did we do it because…?”
Finally understanding where you were going, his brows furrow sternly and he shakes his head, “Stop. Baby, I don’t want you thinking we had sex because of some storm or because we got stuck in a motel.”
Your pulse quickens. “Okay…”
“Like I said, it’s because I love you and have been for months now.”
His words hit you and you stop, thinking you misheard, “Wait. What? Months???”
“Ah…” Steve’s cheeks grow hot with blood and he’s no longer looking at you now, distracted with the ceiling fan spinning.
You’d assumed this was a very recent thing, not something that had been going on for the past year directly under your nose.
"Steve, when?"
"Um," He coughs. "around Christmas."
“Christmas???” You gasp loudly and he cringes. “That was like six months ago!”
“I’m aware…”
You can’t help the stupid smile that grows on your face and you laugh, wrapping your arms around him and snuggling your face into his chest deeper, looking up at him. "Aww, Stevie you had a crush on me? Is that why you got all like that a bit ago?" You then pause, furrowing your eyebrows. "Are you actually being serious? If you're messing with me I'll shave your head while you're asleep."
"You wouldn't."
"Mmm, I dunno."
"Brat." He smacks your ass and you squeal, kicking him in the leg, causing him to grunt. "And duh, I'm serious."
He seems to ponder, sentimental at the memory of snow falling and your family gathered together when he'd been invited to celebrate with like every year. "I realized when you and Anthony were making the stupid gingerbread houses. Man, you're so competitive. You begged me to be the judge of who made the better house and everything. When I said you, you were so happy over something so silly and I just...I don't know, I guess it hit me."
You remember. You'd layered your house in pastel blue and pink frosting with gumdrops sprinkled across. You insisted yours was the epitome of a perfect house compared to Anthony's absolute mess that had no theme nor color coordination. So, you'd look to Steve who'd been wearing that sweater of his he'd looked ridiculously good in, with big eyes and hands clasped together.
"I had no idea." You whisper, running a hand through his messy hair. "I honestly thought you didn't care, that I had some stupid little crush for years."
"Years?" He asks in genuine confusion.
"Don't tell me you didn't know."
"No, swear." He then laughs. "Wow, years?"
Now you feel embarrassed, regretting you even said anything in the first place. "Shut up, Steven."
He gives a half smirk and flicks your forehead, "It's okay, I'm not judging. Just took us some time, that's all."
"...Hmph."
Moments pass and it’s silent but comfortable, easy enough to ease into together as you sigh into his chest, hiding your face into it as he holds you close.
If you could, you’d melt together and become one with him.
“Fuck.” Steve curses. “He’s going to kill me.”
You freeze, realizing what he means. Not wanting to worry about the issue of your brother at hand, you scoff. “So?”
“So?” He says exasperated, hiding his face in your hair, voice miserable. “So, he might actually kill me. Do you realize that?”
“Maybe you deserve it.”
“Hush.”
With confessions and sex, you wonder what’s the next step in the both of yours complicated relationship you were sure wouldn’t be exposed to anyone outside the two of you anytime soon. Privacy seemed the best route, especially if wanting to avoid…potential conflict.
Sure, he confessed his love, but did he want to take this seriously?
“What are we exactly?” You blurt out.
He just stares out, mouth opening and closing and you immediately regret your words. “Sorry, I shouldn’t have asked. You don’t have to answer that—“
“I want to be your boyfriend.” He says quickly, flushing afterwards. “Um— if you’ll let me. I meant it when I said I love you. This isn’t just messing around to me. Even if…a certain someone beats my ass.”
You don’t give a response for a couple seconds, leaving him holding his breath. Finally, you smile and lean up to kiss his lips then the tip of his nose in finality. “Is that a good enough answer?”
AUTHORS NOTE: sooo…maybe might write part 2 where anthony finds out and shit hits the fan? you can kinda tell i got lazy towards the end lol.
author’s note — as I had to slow down a bit for my health I need time to write actual fics but I don’t want to let you guys down, so here are some imagines (I’m gonna make some of these)
perv!gator who goes to the diner you work in, late at night, parks close enough to see you doing your job but not close enough for you to notice and thanking god for his tinted windows, strokes his dick while watching you spin around in your little work dress, imagining going in there, bend you over the table and fuck you with the dress still on from behind.
perv!gator who breaks into your home after searching out from the police system where you live and goes to your laundry immediately, stealing your still unwashed panties from the basket.
perv!gator who goes to your room and searches around to find your pink big vibrator in the drawer, he gets hard from imagining you using it and finds himself turn it on and put it on his clothed bulge.
perv!gator who gets so hard he has to pull out his dick while going to your mirror that had pics of you alone—or with friends—as he was looking at you while jerking himself off, cuming accidentally on your mirror “oh shit, shit, shit!”
perv!gator who after cleaning it off leaves your house just to go straight back home giving your pantie into his collection of you. Your panties and bras that went missing, pics of you printed out from your social media, all your information he could find in the system, and a drawing he drew of you and your body.
perv!gator who jerks off every single night, your blue lace underwear over his face, breathing in your smell while in the hand that is stroking him he has his favorite, dark green lace underwear going up and down his cock, giving it a plus friction that makes him cum so hard it spills everywhere.
perv!gator who set his favorite picture of yours from your Instagram as his wallpaper, you smiling into the camera, your hair wet, in a burgundy colored bikini, the top part perfectly showing enough from your boobs for him to imagine fucking your boobs, still wet from the water.
perv!gator who is your regular customer and always calls you “sugar.” but he never makes an official move, he rather beats the fuck out of every single men who tries to flirt with you and then go back to his car and cum around his wheel while looking through your instagram.
perv!gator who follows your every move, and loves when you go to the local bakery where your best friend Kiara works, he loves watching you try out the new sweets as he watches your mouth having the left over cream on them while your smiling, watching you lick off your fingers, especially helps if they are white creams, he imagines you on your knees, those white drops his cum, dripping down from your mouth to your chest as he licks it off of them after fucking your mouth so badly you cry from not being able to breathe.
summary: dealing with your breakup with steve has been hard and it hurts even worse when you lose the necklace he gave you
warnings: angst, arguing, mentions of canon violence, set during season four, crying, reader is very sad, steve is lowkey avoidant, happy ending!
word count: 5.2k
from jen: i recently just lost one of the most important pieces of jewelry and my heart is broken so this is 100% self indulgent :’)
There was a time your designated spot was shoulder to shoulder, fingers intertwined, with Steve and now you stand on complete opposite sides of the room without a single second or eye contact – it almost felt like a piece of you had be taken away.
Actually, that’s how you felt ever since the breakup.
Your relationship with Steve came almost suddenly. You were in the same grade, you practically grew up together, but never actually interacted in school. Until senior year and he broke up with Nancy and the kid you babysat ran to you for help after his new pet alien ate his cat.
A strange friendship formed between you, Dustin and Steve but it was something real. Even when the younger kid wasn’t around, you and Steve became glued to each other. Where he went, you followed and when you moved, he moved.
What started as platonic quickly morphed into romantic.
He’d changed so much from the popular boy in high school and became someone softer. He still had that same charm and personality, but he tried to let go of all the superficial things he used to cling to.
A part of you felt like maybe he’d never get over Nancy but after those months together, everything else except you and him disappeared. The two of you were together for eight months before you both started working at Scoops and then you were thrown into a whirlwind of more aliens and evil Russian soldiers.
Fighting off Demodogs with Steve at the junkyard and in the tunnels was scary enough – more scary than either of you would actually admit – but watching Steve get nearly beaten half to death and taking a few blows of your own? That was different.
You still had a scar across your cheekbone from the back of a guard’s gun after you mouthed off one too many times.
What should’ve been a time when the two of you really leaned on each other, almost like a trauma bond, Steve vanished. It was small at first – he would cancel on plans, he started calling less and less, he’d give you vague excuses for his sudden absence. You could feel it in your bones, the way he was slowly pulling away.
At first, you thought maybe he was just having a tough time moving past things. After all, he’d gotten the brunt of the soldiers anger and he had the bruises to prove it. But it wasn’t just temporary space he wanted and two weeks after the Battle of Starcourt, Steve broke up with you. Over the phone.
Devastated couldn’t even begin to describe how you felt. You tried to reason with him, even begged him not to do it, but he was firm. He insisted you two weren’t right for each other and there was ‘no point in prolonging the inevitable.’ He was clear in what he didn’t say – he didn’t love you anymore and honestly, you weren’t sure he ever did.
Almost a year had passed since the breakup and Steve has made sure to stay no contact. The only time you’ve ever spoke after was when he returned your things from his house and asked for his own. The only thing you were left with was the heart shaped locket he gifted you for your birthday a few months after dating.
Even though it tore you apart, you respected his decision and didn’t try to push him. You kept your distance from him but in turn, that meant distance from everyone.
Until a few days ago.
Max and Dustin showed up on your doorstep, scared and out of breath – rushing to beg for help about Eddie Munson and the newly deceased Chrissy Cunningham. There wasn’t a chance you could say no.
So you drove them to Family Video and for the first time in months, you were around Steve again. At the sight of him for the first time in months, your fingers clutched the locket still around your neck for some sort of comfort. But even in the same room, he wouldn’t look at you. He hardly acknowledged your presence. It cracked your already broken heart even more.
You guys have spent the last couple of days tracking Eddie down and then listening to his recount of Chrissy’s death. Your stomach turns at the confirmation that it wasn’t a regular run of the mill murder and instead, you’re all now sucked back into monsters and chaos.
Things began to feel really scary when Nancy’s assistant turned up dead in the same manner. Not only were you faced with some inter-dimensional psycho, but also had to deal with what looked like Steve having feelings for Nancy. You didn’t miss the way he tried to follow her on her lead or the disappointment he felt when Robin took his place instead. The locket around your neck felt like a weight around you instead of providing comfort.
Everything worsened when Max connected the dots between the latest victims and confessed she’s been dealing with her own symptoms. The already high stakes raised even higher at the risk of Max being in danger.
Now, the entire group gathers around the living room of the abandoned Creel home as everyone begins to split off into groups.
You’re standing off to the far side of the room. It feels weird being back here – everyone seems to have their own reason for being here. Nancy wants to find justice for her assistant, Dustin wants to clear Eddie’s name, Max needs to survive and Lucas is hellbent on making sure that happens, and Steve and Robin are here to protect their friends. You feel like the odd one out.
Maybe it’s not the time to be worrying about that – it definitely isn’t – but the small reminders that you’re not really apart of the group stings.
Max and Lucas pair off together, Steve and Dustin together in the opposite direction and Nancy pulls Robin along with her. As scary as the run down house seems to be, trying to sneak into one of the pairs scares you more – so you go off alone without a hitch.
You do your best to inspect the house and every room you come across but it’s hard when you’re not even sure what you’re supposed to be looking for. You continue through the house for a few minutes until you make it upstairs. When your round the corner, you still.
Because a few feet in front of you, Steve and Nancy stand extremely close. They face each other, eyes locked and gentle smiles along their faces. You can’t hear exactly what they’re saying but Steve looks peaceful. Happy.
It makes your heart bleed and instinctively, your hand reaches for your heart locket again. You recognize that look in his eye, it’s the same way he used to look at you but hasn’t in so long. Seeing them like this feels like torture but you can’t seem to look away. And more than that, it feels like an extra confirmation that Steve broke off the relationship because he didn’t feel the same way anymore.
You’d heard the whispers and the rumors about how he never really got over her and maybe this just proves it.
Your silent pity party halts to an end when Robin makes her way up the stairs and easily slides into the conversation. Steve and Nancy share a look of exasperation and she gives his arm a gentle squeeze before walking away. It’s only then that Steve’s eyes trail from hers and flick up, locking with your own.
Something unreadable flashes in his eyes – surprise, maybe? Or possibly guilt. Whatever it is, it’s gone just as fast as it appeared and he follows the other girls down the hall without a word.
There’s a pang in your chest at his indifference. It’s hard to see him act so careless about everything but maybe you should have expected as much.
Suddenly, you hear Max’s voice coming from the other room and you’re reminded of the situation you’re actually in. If heartbreak was the worst thing you had to deal with then so be it – because the alternative is Max losing her life and you be damned if you let that happen.
The rest of the time spent in the house passes in a blur. You all came to the realization that whatever Vecna is doing, he has some sort of connection withlights and uses that to almost travel between dimensions.
It’s hours later when everyone gets back to the Wheeler home and Nancy decided on using the late hours to regroup and plan for the next few days. How to break the bad news to Eddie, how to successfully avoid Jason and the police, how to make sure Max stays safe by enforcing what Dustin coined as Max Watch.
The basement fills with overlapping chatter. Dustin and Nancy argue over which crisis is more important, Lucas is trying his best to comfort Max – who doesn’t seem to be all that interested in talking anymore – and Robin looks torn between staying silent and joining the argument.
Yet all you can focus on is Steve.
He’s let out his own fair share of input throughout the night and even made some arguably ill-timed jokes with Dustin. You’d like to be infuriated over the fact that he seems fine being around you and not talking but you’re not. You’re just.. hurt.
You’re sitting on a singular chair close to the stairs – the spot furthest from Steve. You’re trying to ignore the loud noises coming from everyone and before your mind catches up with your body, your hand reaches up for your locket.
Except your fingers grasp around air.
Your spine straightens in your seat and you glance down as your palm glides across the fabric of your shirt.
Nothing.
You swipe your hand across your neck, hoping it slipped under your shirt, except it’s not.
Nothing but bare skin.
Panic rises in your chest almost immediately. Every sound coming from the others drowns out of your ears as you shove your jacket off, shaking it erratically in front of you in case it tangled itself there.
Nothing.
You jump to your feet in the blink of an eye and pull the cushions from the small seat – fingers gliding across every inch of fabric in case it slipped through.
Nothing.
This cannot be happening. You couldn’t have lost it. You just had it.
Your stomach twists with anxiety as you search for it. Robin is the first one to notice the change in your behavior.
She calls your name gently. “What’s wrong?”
There’s a lump in your throat that makes it hard to respond. You drop to your knees, snatching your purse from where it sat on the floor. Without a second thought, you dump everything out and onto the floor.
“My necklace – it’s gone,” You respond quietly. There’s a waver in your voice and you know it doesn’t go unnoticed.
Your fingers push apart every item from your bag. Your wallet, your keys, useless receipts, loose change.
No locket.
Your heart is hammering in your chest and there’s a burning feeling coursing through your veins.
“What necklace?” Robin asks and without looking back, you can feel everyone’s eyes on you. It’s embarrassing but the fear of having lost one of the most important things to you overpowers that.
“My locket. It was just here, I just had it,” You explain. She approaches you and offers a small smile.
“It’s okay, we’ll find it. Where was the last place you had it?”
“I don’t – I don’t know. I felt it at the Creel house and that’s.. that’s the last time I can remember,” Your voice is quiet and broken but you keep sifting through the pile of useless things from your purse.
It’s not there. It’s not in your pocket. It’s not around your neck. It’s gone.
Nancy speaks up from behind you next. “Look I’m sorry about your necklace but that’s not really important right now.”
Her tone isn’t unkind but it is impatient. She’s not wrong but the reminder hits a nerve inside you.
“It’s my necklace,” Your response is curt but she doesn’t let it bother her.
“We have to focus on saving lives right now. It’s just a necklace – you can always get another one,” Nancy says.
“No it’s not just a necklace,” You snap, your fingers shake as you shove everything back into your bag and your voice trembles. “It’s from St –“
You freeze before you can finish saying his name. Everything around you feels too small and suffocating. Knowing how much the breakup has been affecting you is different from admitting it to everyone around you.
The hard truth is you’ve been holding onto this single piece of jewelry like it was still a piece of him – but it’s not and it never will be. There was no relationship with him anymore and whether you lost the necklace or not, there never would be again.
Your eyes burn with tears as you kneel against the hardwood floor, sitting over the messy pile that’s your purse. Your shoulders drop and curl into yourself – every ounce of fight drains from you and you finally accept what’s been right in front of you.
The necklace won’t bring him back.
You quietly clean up the mess you made and Robin gives your shoulder a soft squeeze.
“We’ll look more tomorrow, yeah?” She assures but you both know it’s futile. Tomorrow, things with Eddie and Max could worsen. Vecna could make a real appearance. Or Jason and his wild pack of goons could become really dangerous.
You give her a small nod and then the moment passes.
Nancy insists everyone gets rest, saying tomorrow (and however long after that) will be a long day. Everyone does their best to get comfortable in the small space and without a word, you set off upstairs to find a bathroom.
As soon as the door clicks shut, your back leans against the door and tears fall freely against your cheek. They’re thick and hot against your skin and your shoulders rack with sobs.
Your nails dig into the bare skin where the locket used to lay as you let yourself feel it all. The heartbreak of it all and the pain of feeling like it’s happening all over it.
It’s stupid. It’s a single piece of metal. There’s a million other things for you to be worrying about right now but it’s also not just a necklace. It’s that beautiful loving moment you and Steve shared when he gave it to you. It’s his nervous hands shaking as he clasped the chain around your neck. It’s the way his eyes landed on the pendant everyday after. It’s the comfort it’s given you. It’s the last piece of proof that love between you two truly existed.
And now it’s gone.
Steve Harrington feels like the shittiest guy on the planet.
Not only has he spent the last few days acting like he didn’t care about you, he also had to watch you panic over losing the necklace and not comfort you.
Except that was nobody’s fault but his own.
He’s been the most miserable he’s been over the past few months after breaking up with you but he truly felt like it was the right thing to do. He watched you get hurt and face danger head on all because of him and his connections to the Upside Down.
It was his last straw when he woke up in the underground bunker, vision blurred from his swollen eye, and saw the deep cut across your cheekbone. It was still gushing blood but you didn’t even care – you were fussing over him instead of yourself.
That’s when he knew he couldn’t be with you anymore. Because you cared more about his wellbeing instead of your own and he’d be damned if he let you get hurt to save him.
He knew it was cruel doing it over the phone and his ‘reasons’ were even more cruel but selfishly, he couldn’t stand to see the look of agony that would wash over your face if he did it in person.
His fingers gripped the phone so hard his knuckles turned white and when he heard the trembles in your voice as you begged him not to, he had to slam it onto the receiver before you could hear him cry.
Everyday since then has been hell on earth for him – but he told himself it was worth it if it kept you safe.
And then suddenly, and without him with you, you were in it all over again. Only this time he couldn’t comfort you. He couldn’t hold your hand or kiss your forehead. He gave all that up.
Steve didn’t think you’d still wear the necklace he bought you but his happiness from the confirmation was short lived once you began to panic over losing it.
He came to a realization he subconsciously already knew was true. That breaking up with you didn’t make things easier for you or keep you safe – it just hurt you emotionally instead of physically and he’s made you suffer for months.
He glances down at where you lay across the floor. You’re curled into a ball, knees tucked tight to your chest and one arm bent under your head. You seem to be asleep but you still look restless. He can still see the tear stains on your cheeks and his heart cracks.
He can’t fix what he did months ago, but he can fix this.
Steve stands quietly and his eyes dart across the room to make sure everyone is asleep. Everyone but Lucas is, he jumped for first shift of Max Watch, and he doesn’t seem to be at all interested in what Steve is doing.
He quietly gathers his things and makes his way to his car.
The Creel house is even more intimidating at night. It was once a beautiful home, there’s no denying that, but now it’s covered in boarded up windows and vines growing across every inch. The air around the house is eerily quiet – not even crickets chirp nearby.
Steve stands on the porch – not a single street light offering him any comfort – as he calms himself down enough to enter alone. It’s probably a dumb decision, no definitively a dumb decision, but the memory of your tear stained face, kneeling defeated on the floor is enough to make him move.
He wanders through the house with his flashlight. The floorboards creek beneath his feet and the tall grandfather clock almost mocks him. He fights every instinct to turn tail and run, and moves further into the house.
He retraces your steps the best he can. He looks through the main hallway, spends minutes at every single step of the staircase, he makes his way to the second story and examines every inch of the floor.
He makes it to the end of the hall – the same place you stood frozen at the sight of him and Nancy. He feels guilt settle heavy in his chest. It wasn’t what you were thinking but at the time, he thought it was best to let you believe that. He was so stupid.
Steve swallows down his regret and continues moving.
He spent an hour at the house, rummaging through every corner of the rooms you stepped even a foot in and can’t find it. He’s on his last leg of hope when he enters the attic. He wanders the room, flashlight beaming across the floor as he looks for it.
He’s just about to give up when the light catches something. The reflection bounces off the metal, glaring into his eye, and before he knows it, he rushes to it.
It’s a metal chain hanging from a broken floorboard and he can’t see if there’s a pendant attached to it. He drops to his knees, careful not to shake the broken wood, and holds the flashlight over it.
His fingers gently wrap around the metal and with a little tug, he pulls the metal free. Hanging from the bottom of the chain, is the heart shaped locket. It’s a scratched now and tiny pieces of splintered wood are stuck in the clasp but he found it.
He found it.
Steve breathes out a heavy breath of relief and squeezes the jewelry in his palm. He doesn’t spend another second inside the house and rushes outside – back to his car and back to you.
By the time Steve makes it back to the Wheelers house, it’s almost three AM. He knew you’d still be asleep and he’d spent the whole car ride back debating if he should wake you up to give it to you, or wait till morning.
His debate solves itself when he steps out of his car, the locket still clutched tight in his fist, and sees you sitting on the front porch of the house.
He freezes at the sight of you so close to him. It’s the first time you were alone and without distance in months. Everything he thought about saying flies out the window and all he can do is look at you.
You look up when you hear him approaching and surprise flashes in your eyes. He’s not sure what you thought when you saw he was gone – if anything at all – but it’s clear you weren’t expecting to see him like this.
Your hands fidget with the hem of your shirt and he can tell you’re uncomfortable. He never thought he’d see you like that because of him. He hates it.
Your mouth parts like you’re about to say something but he beats you to it.
“I have something for you,” He says.
His voice fills the tense air but the sound of it is like music to your ears. It’s soft and cautious – a hint of exhaustion blanketing it. You blink up at him from where you still sit on the porch step.
“For me?” Your brows furrow. He takes a step closer to you and holds his hand out.
Sitting in the center of his palm is a necklace. Your necklace.
You jump to your feet once recognition hits. A relieved gasp slips past your lips and you rush towards him, fingers tenderly cradling the metal.
“You found it?” You breathe out and hold the necklace in your own hands. Your voice is thick and tears line your eyes again. “I don’t – I don’t understand, how did you find it?”
Steve feels his heart pound when you look up at him with shiny eyes.
“It was at the Creel house, stuck in the attic.” He explains quietly. He’s almost too lost in the way you look right now. Undoubtedly exhausted and heartbroken over the necklace but still so fucking beautiful.
“You went back?”
He nods and watches the way your eyes glance down, taking in the state of him. He almost feels subconscious.
“Why would you do that?” Your voice rises with concern and it takes him aback. “Steve, you could’ve been hurt! We have no idea what’s going on and Robin created the whole no-going-off-alone thing for a reason. Why would you do that just for a necklace?” You chastise him.
It’s ironic that you’re saying it’s just a necklace now when a few hours ago, you were ready to bite Nancy’s head off for saying the same thing.
But this time Steve risked his life for it and that was stupid.
“Because it’s important to you.” Steve says easily. Your breath hitches as he stares down at you. There’s a finality in his voice that makes your heart ache. He says it like it’s obvious – only it’s not obvious and it hasn’t been for a long time.
You shake your head and inhale shakily. Your teeth sink into your bottom lip as you squeeze the necklace in your palm. You have no idea how to respond and nothing feels adequate anymore.
“Steve..” Your shaky voice trails off but he fills the silence.
“You have a scar,” Steve nearly blurts out.
Confusion flashes across your face but he raises his hand to stroke against your cheek. His fingers trace the raised scar across your skin and you fight the instinct to lean into his hold.
You know without more explanation that whatever his reason is for mentioning the scar, it has to do with the breakup.
“So what,” Your eyes searched his as you spoke. “You’re – you’re grossed out because of my scar?”
Insecurity fills your chest and you move to pull away from his hold. It almost feel like it burns now. His eyes widen and he’s quick to shake his head.
“No! No – no that’s not what I mean,” He raises both hands to grab your hands and hold you in place across from him. He says your name gently and you can see his hazel brown eyes swirl with so many emotions. “What I meant is you have a scar because of me,”
You faltered for a moment. “Steve, I got it from the blunt end of a pistol,”
“Exactly!” He exclaims and your brows pinch together. “You literally got pistol whipped because you were trying to protect me. You got hurt because of me,”
It slowly begins to dawn on you what he’s saying but he doesn’t let you offer any defense before he continues.
“Baby, you have no idea what it felt like to see you hurt like that and how it felt to know it was because of me,” You barely have a chance to bask in the slip of a pet name because he keeps going. “I thought I was doing the right thing back then. I thought I was keeping you safe by walking away – that’s all I’ve ever wanted to do, because I’d rather live in a life time of agony alone than drag you into danger. I can’t do that – I won’t do that.” Steve’s voice cracks and your chest tightens. “But you got dragged into it anyway and this time, you’ve been alone and that’s my fault. I hurt you worse than you’ve ever been hurt before and I’m sorry, baby – I’m so fucking sorry,”
By the time Steve finishes, his palms have somehow found home holding your face. The tears that threatened to fall have spilled down your skin and wet his hands. Unaware to himself, his own eyes gloss over with tears.
It’s a terrible reason to have broken up with you and a deep part of you is angry that he didn’t just have a conversation with you but the biggest part of you is so fucking relieved to hear those words come out of his mouth.
Because it’s not that he didn’t love you anymore, it was that he loved you too much.
You breathe in a shaky breath and bring your freehand up to grip his wrist. “Steve..”
He leans his forehead against your own and his eyes flutter shut – a few stray tears slide down his cheeks and your heart shatters at the sight. You’ve spent so much time thinking he didn’t care but in reality, he was living the same hell you were.
You whisper his name but when he doesn’t move, you gently pull yourself away from him to bring the locket up to view. “Steve, look at me,” You murmur. He doesn’t take his hands off your face but he obliges. “You didn’t open it, did you?”
His eyes glance at the chain in your hand. “The necklace? No,” He shakes his head.
You give him a tearful smile and nudge it towards him. He doesn’t seem to get the hint. “Open it,”
He looks hesitant to let you go but when you give him another gentle encouragement, his hands move from your skin to hold the locket. He sniffles as he opens the metal.
His fingers still once it’s laid open in front of him.
Tucked inside the hearts are two pictures – one of the two of you on a date and the other of just him smiling softly into the camera.
His heart constricts in his chest at the sight of it. It wasn’t just that you still wore the necklace – you still carried him with you. Everyday since he gave it to you.
You let the silence sit for a moment before speaking up.
“Steve, it never mattered if we were together or not. I would follow you into danger every time. You could’ve been dragged to hell right now and I would still jump in after you because I love you, Steve. So mu –“
You’re suddenly cut off when he slams his lips against yours. The feeling of his lips fitting perfectly with yours is dizzying relief and your hands cling to his shoulders. You hold onto him so tight, like you’re afraid he’s about to slip away, and his hands cradle your face just as tight.
Steve is overwhelmed with every ounce of love he’s ever felt for you and you feel just the same.
His mouth slots against yours as he pours everything into this one kiss. He feels warm and fuzzy against you and it’s like all the torturous moments away from him completely fade away.
“I love you so – so fucking much,” Steve whispers against your lips, careful not to break contact, and you don’t even pretend to fight the smile that breaks out on your face. “So much baby, so so much,”
He continues to repeat it even as his lips travel from your lips and across your skin. He leaves messy kisses to your cheek, along your jaw, even over your eyelids until he lands back on your lips.
You hold each other close and breathe in each others air for as long as you can until he finally breaks apart from you – but he still doesn’t go far and rests his forehead against yours. You both nearly struggle to catch your breath but you’re both smiling wide.
It all feels right again. Perfect.
You carefully pull the necklace from his hand and hold it up again. “Will you put it on me?”
Steve nods without hesitation and carefully turns your hips to face away from him. Your pull your hair over one shoulder as he pulls the chain around your neck. His warm finger tips brush against your skin and tiny goosebumps erupt over you. The metal is cool against the warmth of your body – right where it belongs – and Steve’s hands glide across your shoulders after he clasps it in place.
You turn in his hold and wrap your arms around his middle. You look up at his beautiful eyes and he stares back down at yours. “I missed you,” You confess softly.
He nods above you and his thumb glides across your cheek. “I’ve missed you even more, sweet girl.”
There’s a million and one things to worry about tomorrow. The state of the world, Max’s safety, Eddie’s freedom and so much more but there’s not a sliver of doubt inside you that you can’t deal with it if he’s by your side.
And you know with absolute certainty, he’ll always be with you.
summary: you and steve promised a long time ago to never go to sleep angry. imagine your suprise when he breaks that promise.
warnings: angst, arguing, steve is stubborn and a little mean, reader is also stubborn as hell, cursing, he doesn’t in fact break the promise, hurt/comfort, crying, kiss and makeup, happy ending! he still manages to be sweet
word count: 3.2k
Dating with Steve Harrington was bliss, it truly was. He was a kind man, always a loyal gentleman. He was protective and was always there for you – physically and emotionally. He was funny and so incredibly charming.
By definition, he was the perfect man.
But with all of his perfections, he had one singular flaw. His stubbornness.
Steve Harrington was as hard headed as a brick wall.
And you? Well, you could almost give him a run for his money.
Any normal day for you two was loving. Except for today.
Today, Steve seemed to have woken up on the wrong side of the bed. He claimed you hogged the blankets all night, even though it was his monster feet who kicked them to the floor.
At first it felt like tired bickering. Once the sleep washed away from him and he got a little bit of food in his tummy, all would be well.
Wrong.
At breakfast, you argued about who’s turn it was to do the dishes. You told him everything in the sink was left by him the night before – he argued that your name was next on the chore list.
You argued about how he forgot to make the coffee for the morning. He argued that you could’ve done it too – even though he’s always done it.
You argued over his misplaced keys. Over what time Nancy said to meet at the station. Over who gets to drive – this one was entirely your fault considering you don’t even like to drive, but he was really pissing you off.
The car ride there was spent with your arms crossed tight and your legs tucked into the passenger door – away from his touch – and his fingers gripping the wheel so tight, his knuckles whitened. By the time you two made it into the station, you both angrily agreed not to talk to each other.
It’s pettiness and stress masked as arguments about nothing. The tension between you two was palpable and the group picks up on it quickly.
You’re all standing around the common room, ready to disperse into your own jobs. You and Steve always go with Dustin to monitor Hopper – leaving everyone else back at the station to take care of things.
You’re dreading the idea of sitting in the pre-existing tension between Steve and Dustin, and it doesn’t help the fact that you’re now arguing with him too.
You move to grab your jacket when he speaks up.
“Not you.” Steve says, his voice firm but cold. You blink up at him. “Byers is taking your spot tonight,”
You laugh incredulously. “Wha – Jonathan?”
He nods down at you, zipping up his own jacket. “He knows how to handle the navigation,”
Your face pinches at his answer. “So do I,”
Steve avoids your eyes as he gathers the rest of his things. It’s not because of shame or fear, but from annoyance. “Do you?”
Your eyes narrow and you can feel the fury bubbling in your chest. “Do I?” You repeat. “You know what Steve, you really have to get over whatever bug crawled up your ass today, alright? You’re acting like –.”
Steve cuts you off before you can finish.
“No, do you know what?” He slams his walkie down on the cushion of the couch. When his eyes meet yours, they’re dark and clouded. There’s not a trace of patience or love in them and for a moment, that scares you. “This isn’t about you. Who knows how many more chances we’re gonna get if this goes wrong and the last thing I need is you fucking up the navigation. So for once, I need you to listen to what I’m saying and quit nagging me, alright?”
Everything around you seems to still.
All that you can focus on is the irritation covering your boyfriends face and for the first time, maybe ever, it’s all aimed at you. For whatever reason, he seems to think you’re the root cause of his sour mood today.
So what if you don’t have the best track record with reading the map? Steve’s lived in his town his entire damn life, he should know the streets by now.
It’s not just frustration you feel anymore. Now it’s shame and insecurity and embarrassment. Shame because apparently, you nag him enough for him to remember. Insecure because you couldn’t even guess how long he’s been holding this in. And embarrassed because everyone around you has also stilled – now staring at the two of you like you’re a pair of animals in a cage.
That thought angers you even more.
Your jaw clenches so hard you can almost hear your teeth grinding against each other and you can feel the way your nails dig into the skin of your palms as a way to calm yourself down.
Steve stares back down at you and after a beat of silence, he seems to register exactly what he said. His eyes flutter shut and he sighs, raising his hand to gently grasp your hand.
Your face is steel as you take a step back before he can reach you. You won’t cause a scene and you also won’t give him the satisfaction of knowing how much he hurt you just now.
“You should go then.” You tell him. He grimaces at your cold tone and makes no move to leave.
He says your name gently. “I didn’t mean it like that. Just – just come with and we can –.”
You cut him off this time. “No thanks, I wouldn’t want to fuck up the navigation again.”
Steve’s shoulders deflate when you echo his earlier words.
It looks like he’s ready to say something else but before he can, you’re spinning on your heels and downstairs to the basement to meet with Joyce at the intercom. You can feel his eyes following you as you disappear but not once do you turn or falter.
It didn’t matter what was causing his sudden attitude change. You were done trying to be empathetic and understanding. He wasn’t about to use you as an emotional punching bag – if he didn’t want to be around you then you would give him that.
It’s hours later when Steve finally arrives back at the station. In that time, his voice cracked over the intercom a few times with updates about movements and any military activity. Each time you ignored the pang in your chest and let Robin respond.
The crawl ended up being just another tally mark under the dead end section and you all began to filter home, completely defeated.
Steve didn’t offer any words as you climbed into the car together, but neither did you. It was still tense but not as tense as when he left. His foul mood is still obvious but it’s no longer white hot anger. It gives you a little bit of hope.
When you finally make it home, it’s after 10. He still hasn’t spoken to you but he lets you shower first, and you take the opportunity to try and get rid of your own anger.
You weren’t sure if he really cared it wasn’t your voice he was hearing. It didn’t seem like he cared about your absence in the van, but then again it wasn’t the focus of the night. His earlier words rang in your head.
It’s not about you.
Yet here you were, making it about you.
You’re smart enough to realize his blow up had little to do with you. It was a culmination of stress of the crawls, stress from his newly strained relationship with Dustin, stress from everything. You were just the only constant in his life and it seemed like you were the best thing to take it out on.
It doesn’t make it right, but at least you understand.
Still, you’re annoyed at the very least.
But you two have made a promise years ago – to never fall asleep mad and with the way exhaustion is clawing at you, you’re ready to climb into bed and apologize for arguing all day. It’s nothing a few sweet words and a few more sweeter kisses can’t fix and the more you think about it, the more you crave it.
Fighting with Steve was one of your least favorite things in the world.
You quickly clean your mess in the bathroom and change for bed but when you step out of the bathroom and into your shared room, you freeze.
It’s not the darkness or the quietness that stops you. It’s the fact that Steve is already on his side of the bed, his back turned towards your side and asleep.
That asshole actually fell asleep.
You stand there, five feet away from him, in complete disbelief. It was his stupid idea to promise that and he’s the one who broke it first.
Your newly dissolved anger reignites and this time, it’s scorching. You have to fight the urge to abuse him with your pillow as you look at his sleeping frame. You’ve spent the last few hours trying to think of ways to make up with him and he’s just sleeping.
Your body is tense as you finally climb into bed. You make it a point to leave as much distance between your bodies you can without falling off the bed.
Steve is unmoving as you settle on your side and it angers you even more.
Now it’s not just the arguments from today. It’s everything.
It’s the arguing, it’s his careless words from earlier, it’s the coldness you’ve been getting from him all day, it’s the short temper he’s met you with.
You feel small and almost like you mean nothing to him. It’s a stretch considering all he actually did was fall asleep but damnnit, it’s the principle of it all.
Before you know it, tears are slipping from your eyes and soaking the pillow beneath your cheek. You bite your lip to keep the sounds as muffled as possible because the last thing you want is for him to see you cry.
For the first night in your entire relationship, you don’t want to be anywhere near him.
You’re not sure how much time passes when you finally stop crying.
You feel pathetic for it but it’s not out of sadness – because he didn’t hurt your feelings (he did) – it’s because you’re just frustrated about the whole thing.
He’s laid beside you, peaceful and still as he lets his body loosen and forget all its troubles. All the while, you’ve been lying here crying.
There hasn’t been a second where your frustration has even slightly dwindled. Instead, it keeps building and your exhaustion isn’t helping matters.
The sound of Steve’s slow and even breathing behind you is enough to make you break. You don’t take a second to rethink things before you’re shoving the blankets off of you and snatching your pillow in one hand.
You trudge into the darkness downstairs and throw your pillow against the couch. You pull the blanket that rests over the back cushion and settle into the couch.
It’s achingly lonely down here but somehow it feels better than trying to stay beside Steve. You know you’ll wake up in an even worse mood because of how uncomfortable the couch is. The cushions are lumpy, it’s almost too short for your body, it’s colder down here without the warmth of Steve comforting you.
Still, you force yourself comfortable and take another chance at sleep.
Upstairs, Steve’s subconscious has him flipping over in his sleep and his arms instinctively reach out for you. His hand slides across your side of the bed, ready to grab your waist and pull you into his chest but he feels nothing.
His eyes flutter open at the feeling of emptiness beneath his palm. It takes him a few seconds to adjust to the darkness of the room but when he finally does, he sees your side of the bed is empty and cold.
He leans up on his elbow then, taking a quick glance at the bathroom but the light is off and the door is shut. He scans the rest of the room but is met with nothing. It doesn’t really register for him until he realizes your pillow is also gone.
He feels his stomach twist with nerves before he pulls himself out of bed.
His feet pad against the hardwood floor of your shared home as he makes his way out of the bedroom. The rest of the house is quiet and dark – he almost worries you left entirely.
He makes his way down the steps, into the living room and that’s when he finally sees you.
Steve feels guilt hit him like a truck when he sees your small frame squished uncomfortably on the couch. You’re lying on your side, knees curled into your chest and a small throw blanket covering your body.
He hates seeing you like this and even more, he hates being the cause of it. He knows without a doubt it’s his fault. He knew what he said earlier was cruel and completely uncalled for – and he didn’t blame you for a second when you chose not to talk to him over the radio.
When he got back and saw how angry you still were, he felt like the best thing to do was give you space. He’d been blowing up over the tiniest things all day, the least he could do was give you time to yourself.
So when he climbed into bed, it wasn’t to break his promise – it actually wasn’t even on his mind. He just didn’t want to overwhelm or upset you even more.
Obviously that was the wrong choice.
His feet pull him towards you and he bends down so he can lift you up. He carefully pulls the blanket from you and slides one arm beneath your neck. He’s ready to slide the other under your knees when you begin to stir.
Your head turns, lashes fluttering against the skin of your cheeks as you try to focus on what woke you up. There’s a softness in your eyes, one personally reserved for your boyfriend and he feels his heart ache at the sight.
But just as fast as it appeared, it’s gone when you blink.
You pull away from his hold and Steve lets his arms fall to his sides.
“What?” Sleepiness laces your voice but he picks up on the anger beneath it.
He swallows and kneels beside the couch so he’s eye level with you. “Come back to bed,” He whispers.
“I’m comfortable here,” You lie easily. Your hands grab the blanket at your feet and pull it back up to cover yourself, just before you shift to turn away from him.
Steve stares at the back of your head for a moment, immediately missing the sight of your beautiful face.
“Baby..” He sighs. He’s ready to argue more but you cut him off.
“I don’t want to sleep next to you, Steve.” Your voice is detached and cold.
His heart cracks at your response.
His ego tells him to walk away. To leave you to deal with your temper tantrum and to enjoy the bed to himself.
He’s never ignored a thought so quickly.
“Then let me sleep on the couch. You go to bed, babe,” He offers softly.
Your anger aimed at him and your exhaustion has you groaning into the air. You twist your head just enough to face him.
“Just forget it, Steve. I want to sleep.”
Steve feels his own stubbornness filter back. “I’m not letting you sleep on the couch.” He says your name firmly – like a parent scolding a child.
You glare at him, your eyes so dark, there may as well be daggers shooing out of them.
“Why not? You were sleeping so peacefully a few minutes ago. Go back and do it again,” You huff before turning your head to face the cushion again.
Steve’s jaw clenches, not from anger but from more guilt. He never wanted to make you feel like this – like you didn’t matter.
Carefully, he moves to sit on the couch with you. You grumble something like go away but he ignores it. He brings his hand up to cup your cheek, and you try to pull away but his hold is firm.
“I’m sorry, baby,” He whispers, his thumb stroking over the apple of your cheeks. It’s a little damp and sticky from your earlier tears you didn’t even bother to wipe away. He watches the way you avoid his gaze and the way your jaw ticks. “I shouldn’t have spent all day arguing with you, and I definitely shouldn’t have spoken to you like that. I was pissed off about these crawls and the way Henderson’s been acting lately and I took it out on you,” His voice is so soft and gentle – it’s a dangerous contrast to how he spoke earlier. “You didn’t deserve that, baby and I’m sorry.”
Your eyes gloss over again at his apology and you can slowly feel your resolve break. You’re so tired and all you want is to wrap yourself in his arms again.
But you’re still pissed.
“I’m not your punching bag, Steve.” You say firmly. There’s a hint of a waver in your tone but he doesn’t catch it. He nods, his eyes sad and regretful.
“I know you’re not,”
“And you don’t get to take it out on me every time you’re pissed off.”
He nods again. “I won’t, I promise.”
Your eyes narrow, but it’s not as angry this time. “And you’re not allowed to go to bed without me again.”
Steve breaks a smile at your words but quickly tries to cover it, worried you’re not ready to joke with him again. It technically was meant to be lighthearted but the sentiment was serious.
“I’ll stay awake forever if you asked me too, baby,” He responds, his hand gently stroking your skin.
You roll your eyes at his theatrics, but he doesn’t miss the ghost of a smile on your lips.
He leans down, pressing his lips to yours in a tender kiss. He doesn’t try to deepen it – just lets you both feel the other close and intimate. When he pulls away, he leans his forehead against yours. “I really am sorry, baby.” He whispers.
You nod gently. “I know,” You bring your own palm up to his cheek this time and he plants a kiss to your palm before letting himself lean onto your hold.
It’s quiet for a few seconds as you hold each other before you speak up.
“Can you carry me to bed now?” You breathe out, a smile plastered across your face. Steve grins down at you and within seconds, you’re in his arms bridal style. You gasp in surprise from his swiftness and he’s easily carrying you up the stairs.
He plants kisses across the skin of your face the entire way back to bed and once you’re finally settled in, he doesn’t let you go for a second.
