I use she/they pronouns and My blog here is preferably 18+ as I'm 18+! The content I post and repost will not be suitable for minors!
I have ADHD and autism, so I will often have many special interests and hyperfixations! I'm also very open on other topics and will post about them from time to time, but mostly fandom posting!
Special interests: orca whales and the Titanic
FEEL FREE TO INTERACT AND CHAT ABOUT ANYTHING!!
✨Interests✨
Tv shows/movies:
-Creepypasta(Marble hornets included)
-Mcu(X-Men and Avengers)
-Inside Job
-Bridgerton
-Bones
-arcane
-criminal minds
-once upon a time
-the rookie
- fresh
Books:
-miss peregrines home for peculiar children
-the splintered trilogy
-lessons in chemistry
-the summer I turned pretty(do not talk to me about the show if you havent read the book.)
A/N: Hello, cryptids. I’m Crypt, welcome to the graveyard. (AFAB/She/Her) (Pan baby)
FIC REQUESTS(CLOSED)
ASKS(OPEN)
18+ Blog
KINKTOBER 2025 - MASTERLIST
A03 Link:
Found Here
Probing what I write for?
DC Universe
Marvel Cinematic Universe
Ghostface
COD (141/Konig/and friends)
Ghost b.c
Sleep Token
Resident Evil
Silent Hill
Jujutsu Kaisen
Solo Leveling
Castlevania + Nocturnal
Dead By Daylight
Alien (Franchise)
Yandere Characters (OC)
Original Characters
And more… just ask
Snooping Who I Write For?
F/M, F/F, M/M
Multi
GN!Reader x GN, GN!Reader x F, or GN!Reader x M
FTM and MTF when requested
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Content Guide
PG-13: Safe for general audiences, may contain swearing, violence, and action
M/NSFW: May contain adult themes or themes not safe for work. Including but not limited to romanticized abuse, violence, action, explicit sexual content, explicit content, and heavy themes.
I encourage readers to make informed decisions about the content they read. Each post will have content warnings if needed/available.
Some content may not be suitable for specific audiences.
Use your discretion when reading, thanks!
SERIES
"Night Terrors" (M/NSFW)(Yandere!Batfamily x Reader)(F/M)(REWRITTEN)
I wanna make something super clear on here. If you support ICE or Trump or literally any of the things going on in America right now, please unfollow me. Please do not interact with me. Please don’t read my shit. Please don’t talk to me. Don’t like my stuff, don’t reblog my stuff, don’t message me. I can assure you we have nothing in common. What is happening right now is terrifying. It’s disgusting. It’s deplorable. There just aren’t enough words to describe it. I just needed to throw that out there as I recently saw something about a blog supporting these things and it made me want to make sure people know where I stand. Love you guys and fuck ice. 🖤
I hate when shampoo bottles say to use a nickel sized amount or something stupid like that. like, as someone who has thick hair, that is never going to be enough. thats barely enough to cover the roots of my bangs.
summary: after a rough fight and days of being ghosted, steve decides he can’t wait any longer to apologize. sneaking into your house at 2 a.m. sounds romantic in his head. in reality, it goes horribly wrong when you mistake him for an intruder.
word count: 1.9k
tags: reader almost kills steve, mild gore, implied violence, serial killer references, weapons (nail-studded baseball bat), accidental near-death,panic/terror, crying, arguments/fights, fluff overload, steve being down bad.
You cannot sleep, no matter how hard you try.
You keep rolling from one side of the bed to the other, sheets twisting around your legs, the clock glowing far too brightly every time you glance at it. Your thoughts refuse to settle, looping back again and again to the same fight from two days ago that now feels so stupid it makes your chest ache.
In hindsight, it really was not that bad. Just another argument, the kind you and Steve have had before, about how he has a talent for getting himself into trouble.
You had told him he was irresponsible, that he scared you when he acted like nothing could hurt him. He had snapped back, defensive and wounded, accusing you of not trusting him, of trying to cage him in when he was just trying to live.
It should have ended there. It usually does.
Instead, it spiraled. Voices raised and words sharpened. Things said that were meant to hurt rather than fix. By the time he walked out, both of you were hurting in ways neither wanted to admit.
Now it has been two full days since you last saw him or heard his voice, and the silence feels heavier than anything you yelled at each other that night.
With a frustrated sigh, you sit up and swing your legs over the edge of the bed. Sleeping is clearly a lost cause, so you decide you might as well eat something.
A midnight snack feels like the only reasonable solution left. You pad quietly into the kitchen, the house dim and familiar around you, and reach into the cabinet for a bag of salted pretzels.
You are halfway through pulling it out when a sound cuts cleanly through your thoughts.
It’s faint at first, just enough to make you pause, but unmistakable once you focus on it. The crunch of boots shifting against gravel. The soft scrape of something brushing wood. A breath, heavy and close, coming from the other side of your front door.
Your heart slams hard against your ribs as you freeze, pretzels clenched uselessly in your hand.
Slowly, you move toward the front window and peel back the curtain just enough to look outside.
What you see makes your stomach drop straight through the floor.
A tall figure stands on your porch, shoulders broad beneath a black hoodie pulled low over his face. His hands move to the doorknob, twisting it once, then again. Panic floods your system so fast it leaves you dizzy, every nerve screaming at once.
Fuck.
Your first thought is a sharp, almost painful longing as you wish Steve were here, sprawled somewhere nearby, ready to handle this without a second thought.
You wish you had not fought. You wish he had stayed. You wish his ridiculous sense of preparedness were enough to protect you right now.
Steve thankfully, was a weirdly resourceful boyfriend. For months, he had kept an extra pair of shoes outside your door, planted like a warning sign. He even bought them two sizes bigger, convinced any potential intruder would take one look and assume a massive, jacked man lived inside.
You have a fleeting, hysterical thought that if you survive this, you are absolutely telling him that his little trick in fact did not work for shit.
The doorknob stops rattling.
For one brief, foolish second, hope flares in your chest.
Then you hear the sound of metal working against metal as someone starts picking the lock, and fear wraps its hands around your throat.
You don’t have time to think, let alone call the police. Your body moves on instinct, fueled by pure adrenaline, as you rush to the kitchen closet and wrench it open.
Your hands close around cold wood, heavier than you remember.
You drag it free and almost laugh at how obscene it looks, a baseball bat studded with nails hammered into it at uneven angles, something straight out of a horror movie.
Steve had jokingly given you his nightmare of a weapon to protect yourself, like the idea of you ever needing it was a joke. Right now, it feels terrifyingly real.
You grip the bat with both hands, knuckles turning white. You are not going down without a fight.
Your brain, unhelpful traitor that it is, immediately supplies a crystal clear image of Ted Wheeler with next week’s newspaper as the headline screams Girl Dead at 2 A.M. in Brutal Home Invasion, Killed with Her Own Weapon, and you think distantly that this is a truly terrible legacy to leave behind.
You swallow hard and plant your feet in front of the door, the bat slick in your palms as your heart pounds so violently in your chest, loud enough that you are convinced whoever stands on the other side of the door can hear it.
For a brief moment your gaze flicks to the kitchen counter where a scrap of paper sits abandoned, and the absurd thought hits you that you should write something, anything at all, some final note so you do not end up as just another small town tragedy whispered about at the diner for years.
Except there is no time because the lock shifts and a sharp metallic clink cuts through the air.
The sound is unmistakable.
Someone is opening your door.
You tighten your grip, knuckles burning, muscles screaming as you swing the bat with everything you have, throwing all your body weight behind it with the singular intent to survive.
Whoever dared break in is about to have their brains redecorating your hallway—
Except they’re not.
Because Steve has exactly less than a millisecond to react.
You miss, or more accurately Steve reacts fast enough to duck, pure reflex saving him as he drops out of the way.
The nailed bat rams into the doorframe where his head should have been, close enough that he can picture his brains all over your stupid fuzzy front door rug.
Steve hits the floor hard, scrambling backward, eyes blown wide as he stares up at you like he has just come face to face with death itself, which, frankly, he has.
For a second, the two of you just stare at each other.
You, standing over him like a woman fully prepared to commit manslaughter. Him, flat on his ass, breathing like he just outran death itself.
“Holy—shit,” he pants, running a hand through his hair with a disbelieving huff. “I mean, I know I said some real shitty things during our fight, but goddamn, baby, I didn’t think you were gonna go all Freddy Krueger on me.”
The sound of his voice cuts through the haze and your focus snaps into place all at once, because it is Steve, alive and very much real, sprawled on your floor and staring up at you with an expression that sits somewhere between sheer horror and admiration.
“Steve!?” you shriek, the weight of what almost happened crashing down all at once. “Oh my god, I almost fucking killed you!”
He exhales slowly, pushing himself up on shaky legs while wiping sweat from his forehead, glancing back at the bat lodged in the doorframe. “Yeah,” he mutters, still a little breathless.
“You’ve got insane aim, y’know that? And some terrifying follow-through. Remind me to never surprise you again, ever.”
The adrenaline drains from your body just enough for the anger to rush in. “What the hell were you thinking?” you demand, words tumbling over each other. “Sneaking into my house at two in the morning like some psycho, are you out of your mind?”
He exhales a shaky laugh as the bat comes loose, eyes flicking from the nails to your face and back again. “Okay, so in my defense, I was thinkin’ of a romantic apology, not a near-death experience,” he says, voice still breathless. “Also, good news is if anyone ever breaks in here for real, they’re not makin’ it past the welcome mat without their brains all over your walls.”
“You fucking idiot,” you snap, words spilling out now that the dam has broken. “You couldn’t knock? Or ring the bell? Or use your spare keys like a normal being instead of breaking into my house dressed like a serial killer?”
He winces, rubbing the back of his neck, his grin turning sheepish and a little guilty.
“Yeah, about the keys…” he starts carefully.
“I lost ‘em,” he admits quietly, the grin fading as he steps closer instead of backing away. His hands come up, hesitant for half a second before he cups your face, thumbs warm against your jaw.
“And I didn’t wanna wake you up, and I didn’t wanna leave without sayin’ anything.” His voice drops, rougher now, honest. “I–i really didn’t wanna go another night with you mad at me. I couldn’t stand it.”
“I’m here ‘cause I wanted to apologize,” he says, quiet but trembling, his hands brushing against yours almost involuntarily as if afraid you might vanish.
“I didn’t want us ending like that, not over something stupid. I hate fighting with you. I hate not talking to you. Every minute without you felt like—” His voice cracks, and he swallows hard before continuing, “—like I was losin’ a part of myself. I picked the worst way to show up, I know, but I wasn’t thinkin’ straight. I just… I couldn’t wait any longer.”
You don’t answer right away, your throat tight, your heart hammering in your chest. The fear, the adrenaline, the relief, it all crashes over you, and you can’t stop the sting of tears blurring your vision as you slowly hiccup sobs out.
Steve notices immediately. “Oh,” he murmurs, soft as silk, stepping into your space. “Hey–hey, baby.”
Before you can react, he gently cups your face, leaning in so your foreheads brush, his thumbs sliding across your cheeks as if memorizing the curve of your skin.
“Look at me,” he whispers, voice low and urgent. “I’m here. I’m not going anywhere. I promise.”
And then he pulls you into his arms, holding you close like he’s been holding onto this moment for days, letting you press your face into his chest while a shaky sniffle escapes you.
His hands slide up and down your back, warm and steady, and he begins to speak again, softly, words tumbling over each other like he can’t contain them anymore.
“I’m sorry for everything,” he says, voice breaking slightly. “For the fight, for making you worry, for… for not being better. I just—” He hugs you tighter, as if trying to make up for all the lost time. “I just needed you to know how much I need you. You’re… you’re all I’ve been thinking about, and I swear, I’ll do better. I’ll take care of myself. I’ll take care of us.”
You lift your head slightly, meeting his gaze through your tears, voice trembling as you whisper, “I missed you, Steve.”
He exhales like he’s been holding his breath for a week, lifting your chin so he can wipe the tears from your cheeks with his thumbs. “Missed you too, honey,” he murmurs.
You pull back just enough to glare at him, voice still shaky but firm. “Next time, don’t sneak up on me like that wearing criminal hoodie clothes.”
He chuckles, brushing his nose against yours. “Aww, I’m sorry for scarin’ you.”
You glare at him, still holding onto him. “You didn’t scare me.”
“Oh yeah?” he teases, pointing at the bat you’re still gripping. “You sure about that?”
“Watch it, Steve. If you keep it up,” you mutter, a small smirk tugging at your lips despite everything, “I will bash your brains in for real this time.”
He laughs, pressing a quick kiss to your cheek. “I’m so proud of you for taking care of yourself, though,” he says, voice soft.
“By the way,” he adds, suddenly brightening as he digs comically into his hoodie pocket, pulling out a slightly crushed pack of your favorite Lindt chocolates, the Back to the Future VHS, and then—carefully, like they’re sacred—two folded tickets which you immediately recognize.
Your breath catches. “Oh my god,” you whisper, eyes widening as you take them from his hand. “Are those—”
“Mhm,” he says, grinning and impossibly proud. “Bon Jovi concert tickets. Front section. Only the best for my girl.”
You don’t even think about it, just surge forward and kiss him hard, hands fisting in his hoodie.
“You really are the best,” you murmur against his mouth, pulling back just enough to look at him. “And… I’m really glad I didn’t accidentally kill you.”
He snorts, forehead dropping to yours. “Yeah,” he says lightly, eyes softening in that way that always gets you, “me too, sweetheart. Though I gotta say—”
He shrugs, eyes looking at you with so much adortion.
“—if I had to go, I’d take goin’ at your hands over anything else.”
a/n: this was so fun to write! i hope the idea i had in mind was well executed ;)
★ summary: sneaking around behind your father's back had become second nature growing up with the strict chief of hawkins. except this time maybe you and steve weren’t as inconspicuous as you thought
★ pairing: steve harrington x hopper!reader
★ warnings: 18+ mdni, smut, oral f & m receiving, road head, car sex, semi-public sex acts, getting caught
★ word count: 3.4k
★ notes: feel like i write a lot of car stuff im sorry, are yall bored of it??? hahahaha anyways animals by nickelback came on and i had to physically pause and write this. think it's been done before but :P
There was an old saying, “strict parents make sneaky kids”, that often rang true in the Hopper household. Having grown up with a drill sergeant for a father, you found ways around his constant meddling. You understood why he acted the way he did, and you saw what losing Sara and your mother did to him. But you were also just a teenager who was unable to set foot anywhere in this town without the chief of police and his goons breathing down your neck.
That’s why you were currently crouched next to the police scanner, the static voices assuring you that your police chief father would be patrolling into the late hours of the night. The first part of your plan going accordingly.
The second part consisted of your very anxious boyfriend, who was parked half a mile down the road, his fingers nervously tapping on the steering wheel. This Thursday night meet-up had been in the works for weeks; Steve even went as far as burning a cassette full of songs for the two of you, trying to keep the romance alive even in nonideal situations.
Once you were certain you were both in the clear, you slipped your shoes on and climbed out of your bedroom window. Growing up, the police chief's daughter made it hard to be popular; no one wanted to get caught drinking or doing drugs with you around. The last thing an infamous Steve Harrington party needed was Jim Hopper arresting everyone within the vicinity. Steve was the only boy who was willing to face the wrath of his anger. He’d gladly get strung up in the Hawkins town square if it meant he got to see your face one last time.
A smile bloomed on your face when you spotted the beamer poking out of the trees, your hand knocking on the glass quickly. Startling the paranoid man.
He rolled the window down, “Jesus Christ. Get in.” He hissed, only making you roll your eyes. You couldn’t blame his paranoia; Hopper had already talked the fear of god into him. If he were found complicit in sneaking you out and disgracing you in his leather backseat, the Harringtons would have to bury their son. That’s if Hopper let them find the body.
“You’re so antsy.” You giggled, closing the door slowly to appease him. His hands were shaky, but steadied the moment he saw your smile.
“I’m scared shitless. This could be my last night on earth, you know?” He teased, leaning forward and smashing his lips onto yours. It was brief, but passionate. Leaving both of you aching for more.
Weeks of only being able to sneak in kisses through your open door or the halls of Hawkins High. And maybe a janitor closet once, and Mrs. Clicks' empty classroom while she was on break, and the PE bathroom.
“Well, you better get to driving, Stevie, gotta make this last night worth it, huh?” The car was pulling into drive before you could finish your sentence, the smooth sound of the radio matching the gravel spinning under his tires. He knew the way to Lover's Lake like the back of his hand. If you weren’t so eager to get your hands on him, you would be chiding him about it, being one of the first to tame the infamous Playboy of Hawkins.
“Did you make this mix?” You asked after another familiar song came through his speakers, his neck going red.
He simply nodded, his teeth tugging at his bottom lip. “Do you like it?”
Your heart sped up, your hands leaning across the console to cup the back of his head. Fingers tugging gently at the shorter strands on his neck, “I love it. You’re such a romantic under all that cockiness, huh?”
“Cockiness.” He mocked under his breath, pulling into a secluded spot that only select people knew about.
You’ve only had the pleasure of coming here once or twice, nothing but making out and heavy petting. This time was different; it had been weeks since his parents left. Weeks since the last time he’s had your bare flesh against his, and it was driving both of you insane. Teenage hormones seeped through your pores, leaving the air hot.
“What was that?” You hummed, leaning your upper body against the center console. Your hand comes up to rest on his upper thigh, immediately making his cock jump in his pants. He audibly gulped, restraining himself from bucking his hips up at the sudden touch.
“Such a brat.” He mumbled louder, his fingers gripping the wheel tightly. Your hand moved between his legs slowly, cupping his heavy balls through the fabric. It was taking everything in him not to stop the car right there on the side of the road and have his way with you, consequences be damned.
“That’s not very nice, Stevie.” You jutted your bottom lip out, moving to unbuckle yourself.
As soon as the car dinged, Steve cussed, his neck turning towards you. “No, no buckle back up. “
“Steve-”
“No, it’s not safe, Y/n.”
“You’re a safe driver. I trust you.” You gave him a devilish grin, his neck aching from looking back at you, then back on the road.
“Y/n-”
You shushed him, going back to focusing on unbuttoning his jeans. He protested, but never once stopped your eager hands from pulling his aching cock free. The position was awkward; his jeans were pressing into him in all the wrong ways, but he couldn’t find it in himself to care anymore when your hand wrapped around him.
He was heavy in your hands, the tip leaking with precum already. Steve was a goner, his jaw lax as he did his best to stay within the lines of the darkened Hawkins back roads.
“Holy fuck, you’re such a dirty little slut.” Steve groaned, your tongue flattening against him, slowly pulling his mushroomed tip into your mouth.
All you could do was moan around him, his hand slipping when you bobbed your head. The car veers off into the rumble stripes. You nearly pulled off of him before his hand came down on your head, the other steadying the wheel.
“Sorry, sorry. I got it. Don’t stop, baby.” He let out another pathetic whimper, continuing against his length slowly. You couldn’t take but a quarter of his massive cock at this angle, but it was just enough to make his legs shake. Your tongue gliding around him expertly.
By the time he shakily pulled into the designated spot for the night. Leaving his car hidden underneath the low-hanging trees, the only thing seen for miles was the lake and brush.
As soon as the parking brake was pulled, he let you crawl further into his lap, your mouth sinking further down on him. His head was thrown back, his eyes glossy as you gagged around each inch of him.
“Good girl, you’re doing so well.” He cooed, one of his hands in your hair, holding it out of your face, and the other cupping your face. Rubbing circles against your cheek, feeling how wide you were taking him.
Tears were streaming down your face at the intrusion. No matter how many times you took him, you’d never get used to his size. Saliva dripped down your chin, your hands coming up to cover the inches of him you couldn’t fit. His hips were bucking now, unable to stop himself as he grunted your name over and over.
“Fuck, baby, I’m gonna cum, gotta stop.” He babbled, your lips pulling off of him with a pop. Your hands didn’t stop stroking him as you smirked, “Isn’t that the point?”
“Wanna cum inside you.” He hissed, covering your hand with his. Pausing your movements. You pouted but still helped tuck his still throbbing cock back into his boxers.
“No fun.”
“Yeah, yeah.” He rolled his eyes at your teasing, slapping your ass playfully as you crawled into the backseat. Your back slides against the chilled seats, tossing your sweater off in haste. “Someone’s eager.”
“You’re one to talk.” You whispered, your hands tugging at the hem of his own shirt. Letting it fly somewhere in the vicinity. Your hands running up and down the newly exposed skin as he settled between your legs.
The sound of the cicadas outside matched the frantic beating in your chest. Soundlessly, the two of you fell into each other’s arms. His body slotted between your hips. The moon was high in the sky, reflecting off his honey brown eyes. Your own eyes glimmering back at him, full of lust.
“You’re so beautiful, honey.” He whispered, letting his hand cup your cheek. His thumb brushes against your bottom lip, toying with it.
“Kiss me.” You were breathless, your body aching to be against his.
“Breathe.” He whispered, leaning in just to press his plump lips against your cheek, moving down
to the side of your neck. Your head went limp in his hold, letting him guide you however he wanted to.
He kissed every bit of exposed skin, letting his tongue travel between your breasts. Teeth nipping at the supple flesh that bounced out of your bra. One-handed, he reached back and unclasped the lacy fabric with ease. It fell to the floorboard with a soft rustle, Steve’s breath hitching.
“These perfect tits.” He spoke, mostly to himself, as his eyes stayed glued to your bare chest. His tongue reaches out to flick across one of the hardened buds. Pulling it into his mouth, his cheeks hollowing.
“Fuck.” You sighed, your fingernails dragging through his scalp.
He took his time, giving ample attention to both before dragging his sinful tongue down your naval. Hovering above your thin pajama shorts. His warm breath hitting against your clothed cunt makes your hips wiggle in anticipation, your hands anxiously grab his hair, his shoulders, whatever you could grab.
He tapped your hips twice, signalling you to lift as he pulled both your bottoms down in one go. Leaving you completely naked in front of him. The chill of the backseat was gone, replaced with a thick heat. The windows are already fogging up, the car shaking with each shift of your bodies.
“Oh, baby…” He breathed out, his fingertips finding their home on the inside of your thighs. Spreading you open wide for him. Your glistening folds are taking his breath away, his mouth already watering for a taste. You didn’t even get the chance to beg, his mouth coming down and attaching itself to your clit.
“Steve.” You let out his name in a wanton moan. He went in hot and heavy, no time to prepare for the pleasure licking up your spine. It was messy, his mouth moaning into you as he drank in your arousal. He knew every spot that made you preen, and exactly what angle to slide his fingers in to make you gasp.
“Taste so good f’me baby.” He mumbled, curling his fingers deep inside. Making sure to hit that spongey spot. As soon as he found it, he grinned wildly, drinking in the breathy noises that escaped your lips.
He leaned back down, letting his tongue find your clit once again. Flattening against the bundle of nerves, chasing your high. It wasn’t until the movement of leaves outside the car made him still. His body went rigid.
“Did you hear that?” Steve’s head came up quickly, making your hips buck at the sudden loss. His fingers were still moving inside of you at a brutal pace; all you could hear was him curling the lewd noises of your sopping cunt.
“Just the wind,” You breathed out, not even bothering to look out the foggy windows. “Please don’t stop, baby. I’m so close.”
He leaned his mouth back down hesitantly, letting his tongue swipe at you once more.
Your head was still leaning against his wadded-up jacket, your eyes rolled into the back of your head.
“Steve.” You moaned, hips bucking wildly against his nose. He let his eyes flutter closed, getting back into the moment. This moment was short-lived, much as your approaching orgasm. Your eyes opened for just a second, just enough to see the flashlight appearing in the back window. You’d know that police police-issued flashlight from anywhere.
“Oh my god, Steve.” You panted, sitting up frantically.
Steve, oblivious, only sped up his movements. “You gonna cum for me, baby-“
“My fucking dad’s outside,” You nearly yelled, watching his body freeze. Fight or flight kicks in within a moment. The two of you have never scrambled around faster in your lives, the shadow of your dad looming closer.
Both of you missed the sounds of the Chevy rolling in through the gravel, headlights turned off. The gruff slam of his car door, the crunching of twigs beneath his boots. He was supposed to be on patrol; you don’t know how he even knew you were gone.
“I can’t find my shirt,” Steve yelled, helping you slip your shorts back up your legs. Clad in only his boxers, struggling to pull his jeans up in the tightened space.
“I can’t find my bra!” You whispered, both of you panting frantically.
The sound of his flashlight banging on the glass had Steve’s eyes popping out of his head.
“Harrington,” Hopper's voice boomed, “You have 30 seconds to be out of this car before you never see it again.”
“Oh my god, I’m fucked.” He threw his head back, his face still coated in your slick. You panicked, leaning forward and trying to clean him off with your sweater sleeve while the countdown began.
“29,28,…. 20.”
“That’s not even fucking fair, he’s skipping numbers.” He whined all while you tried to make it look like you both weren’t minutes away from making this car shake.
“I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry. I don’t know how he knew.” That was all you could get out when the door handle jiggled. Between the heat in the car and the sickly sweet smell of sex, it was undeniable what was happening, but you were both gonna lie it out.
Steve said a prayer to every god that was listening, and hit the unlock button. The door was nearly ripped off its hinges, revealing a disheveled Steve sitting on his knees on the seat, while you were sitting as if nothing was happening, legs crossed, pretending to fumble around with a random manual tucked into the backseat pocket.
“H-hey….” Steve winced as soon as the words came out of his mouth. Hopper was in a fury, his hand grabbing Steve's shoulder, yanking him out of the car. He nearly fell to the ground with a thud. You were crawling out with them.
“Whoa!” You yelled, watching your father get into Steve’s face.
“You wanna tell me what you two are doing out here? Huh?” The vein in his neck was protruding, spit flying.
“Oh my god, oh my god.” Steve was mumbling, leaning out of his tight hold.
“We were just kissing.” You yelled, throwing your hands up.
“And I was born yesterday.” Hopper scoffed, “Tell me, Steve, were you two just kissing?”
Steve was a terrible liar; this was something you adored in any instance that wasn’t this. “Technically-” He winced, preparing for your father’s hands to wrap around his throat.
Your head fell into your hands, Hopper’s eyes squinting in confusion. It took him less than 30 seconds to realize what he had meant, his hands only gripping tighter.
“You think this is a game, son?”
Steve’s head shook, “No! NO! I am so sorry, so sorry.”
“Let him go!” You yelled, “This is ridiculous.”
Hopper’s laugh boomed, “No, what’s ridiculous is my daughter lying to me. Making me think something happened to her just to find her screwing around with the Harrington boy.”
“We weren’t screwing around-” Steve tried another lie, getting cut off.
“So those condoms in the front seat, just for decoration, huh?” He moved the flashlight back to the car, the evidence damning. You didn’t even realize Steve had put the packets there, your skin flushing.
“Steve, please be quiet.” You begged, his eyes closing when Hopper let him go reluctantly.
“Yeah, might wanna listen to her.” Your dad gruffed, shining the flashlight in your face now.
Steve nodded wordlessly, slowly gaining his bearings once again. Standing still across from him, his eyes still wide. His eyes glance down to the duty belt on his hips, taking note of the gun sitting in the holster. Hopper notices, his hand falling to his hip.
“Not gonna shoot you, boy.”
“I wasn’t sure,” He admitted with a shaky laugh.
Hopper let the anger sit with him for a moment, letting out a disappointed huff. “Got a call about a car driving with no headlights down the back road. Imagine my surprise when it came back to your father.”
“I’m really sorry.” He frowned, “I don’t-I’m not. I really like your daughter.”
“Then respect her enough to not defile her in your backseat.” He ignored Steve’s admission, scoffing. Joyce’s words echoed around in his head.
“Can we leave now?” You huffed back, the Hopper irritation radiating off of both of you. It would no doubt be a war zone when you got home, and you wanted it to be over with. You were already playing the argument out in your head. It didn’t matter that you were 18; you lived under his roof and obeyed his rules.
The flashlight went back into Steve’s eyes, “Take her home.”
Thinking it was a trap, Steve stayed still. Only moving when Hopper yelled it again, Steve stumbled over to the car.
Your dad paused, hand rubbing over his face with a sigh. “I’ll be home in a few hours. I want him gone by then.”
Your eyes widened in shock, choking out a laugh. “Wait, what?”
“You heard me,” he grumbled, shuffling on his feet. Steve wasn’t listening, too busy fumbling around in the backseat trying to find the keys he had shoved into the pocket of his jeans, then the jeans flew all around the car.
“You’re giving me permission to bring Steve over?” Your eyebrow was raised, “Without you home.”
The words pained Hopper to say, an uncomfortable frown constant on his face. “That’s what I said. You’re grown enough to make smart decisions. Well, I don’t know, considering where I found you, but….”
“Is this a trap?” You questioned, making his frustration boil over.
“Oh my god, just go! I’ll see you later!” He yelled, flicking the flashlight off. His footfalls were heavy underneath the gravel as he made his way back to his truck. He paused halfway, turning back to look at Steve once again.
“I expect to see you for dinner some night soon, son.” He glared at the boy, making him gulp. Answering with a string of high-pitched ‘yes sirs’.
The two of you stayed still until the Chevy pulled out of the cove and back onto the main road. When the headlights disappeared, you both let out heavy breaths. Looking at each other wildly.
“Did he give me permission to take you home and fuck you?”
You cringed, slapping his shoulder harshly as you crawled back to the passenger seat. “I think he just had a weird change of heart. Probably wasn’t him. It was most likely Joyce.”
“He kinda ruined my boner though.” Steve sighed, starting the car up.
All you could do was laugh, putting your hand on his thigh when he began the drive back to your house. “We have 2 hours, don’t worry, it’ll come back.”
You were right, it was indeed Joyce who pushed him to give you more freedom. The rest of his shift was spent with his eyebrows furrowed, a headache forming from the constant scowl gracing his face. Cursing Joyce internally for giving you leeway the same way she did Jonathan with Nancy. He, too, had once been young, dumb, and in love.
When he got home that night, the anger came back in full force, Steve’s car sitting in the driveway. He stormed into the house, yelling on the tip of his tongue. Nothing came out when he noticed the silence, walking into the hallway. Your door was cracked open the allotted three inches, and he peeked in.
Both of you were fully dressed, your head leaning against Steve’s chest. Eyes closed and no doubt drooling into his shirt. The TV played old reruns of some show, and a bucket of popcorn lazily sat on your nightstand. Steve turned back at the noise, his eyes wide at Hopper standing in this doorway. Time had gotten away, and he didn’t wanna wake you. The boy shuffled, ready to hightail it out of there.
Instead, Hopper held his hand up, flicking off your bedroom light for him. “Don’t wake her.” That was all he whispered before stepping into the hall.
