ELLE 𝜗𝜚 24. she/her. concert go-er. baker. mamma mia repeater. hopeless romantic. fleetwood mac lover. steve harrington enthusiast. i do not support ai. 18+ blog, minors dni!
Chapter Summary: eighteen months after the start of quarantine, things change, for better or worse.
Fic Summary: You and Steve can't stand to be around one another... but you have to learn to coexist and raise your goddaughter together in the face of the apocalypse.
You would never admit it to Steve, but you had begun to wonder if the crawls had ever been worth it. It had been nearly eighteen months, and there hadn't been a peep. No demogorgons, no demodogs, no demobats, and, most importantly, no Vecna.
Quarantine was beginning to feel like a tightening noose. People pretended things were normal so that they could stomach it, like holding your nose to eat something repulsive. But there were cracks, just as deep as the fissures in Hawkins.
Luxury goods were few and far between. It had been months since you'd gotten your hands on a sleeve of Oreos, and even if they were delivered, someone always managed to get there first. Potato chips, candy, cosmetics, condoms… catching a restock was like winning the lottery.
Lately, it felt like your luck had run out in more ways than one.
"Steve," you whined, looking up at him with sheer exasperation as you placed an antenna headband into Samantha's hair. She grappled with your hands, smacking yours away and tugging at the springs that made the felt balls on the end wobble around. "It's Halloween, can't you tell Jonathan to drive the van?"
Steve sighed and knelt beside Sammie so he could push the headband back while her attention was split. He clipped it down with barrettes and kissed her forehead.
"I really wish I could, but Jonathan and Nancy are working on maps, or something."
You huffed, annoyed, because that was a bullshit reason and everyone else would know that too. "Well, Lucas and Mike both have their drivers licenses," you pressed. "And Dustin should technically have his, but he keeps skipping his stupid drivers ed classes. They're all very capable teenagers."
Steve made a face as he looked up at you, brows drawn together. "Okay, one, Mike and Lucas are on lookout as usual. And two, what if I don't go, something goes wrong, and they're out there alone?" He pushes, an argument you'd heard a million times over, each time a crawl interfered with your plans.
Date night, dinner with your parents, holidays. All of it could so easily get foiled by Nancy Wheeler ringing the house to say the military was doing a burn.
What did the burns do? What did the crawls accomplish? Lately, it seemed like absolutely nothing except stealing Steve away when you needed him.
"What if it's totally fine, nothing happens, and it's another huge waste of time?" You argued, lifting Sam onto your hip so you could carry her into the living room. Steve trudged behind, following you downstairs and into the living room.
You'd had this argument before, and you both knew that it pissed you off to no end. Because you knew that Steve wanted to stay with you and Sam, and you knew that he could ask, but he wouldn't. You had told him before that he was surprisingly selfless, but this was just needless.
Steve stood behind you with his arms crossed, watching you pose Sammie in front of the Halloween decorations on the fireplace for pictures. In between making silly noises so she'd look at the camera, he would huff and watch you through narrowed eyes. "This sucks for me too, baby," he insisted, and when you didn't respond, his jaw ticked and he pressed on. "You're acting like I want to miss tonight. It's totally unfair. I helped you make her outfit, I helped make our matching costumes, and you actually think I'm bailing because I don't care, or something?"
He ran a hand through his hair as you picked up Sam, who was getting uncomfortably heavy in your arms as she neared her second birthday. With a tiny whine, she snuggled against your shoulder, clearly feeling the tension between the two of you.
"I'm not fighting you about this," you said finally, which was your best way of communicating that you were pissed, but didn't want to drag it out in front of Sam. "Go on the crawl, and when you all come up dry again, don't tell me that you wished that you had stayed with us."
Steve left at five, with a quick peck on Sam's cheek and your forehead. He tried to rub his thumb between your brows and smooth out the crinkles there, but you narrowed your eyes at him and pulled back. "Don't be cute," you warned, and then his expression fell and you felt your heart thawing out. "Just be safe tonight, okay? It's a holiday, so the MPs are probably out in droves."
He nodded and slipped out to the driveway. Already, kids were beginning to roam the streets, seeking out the bigger houses with hopes that they might have managed to get their hands on some candy.
Your parents' porch light was off, so you figured that they hadn't had any luck either. Whatever candy there was, if any at all, had been snatched up before you'd even caught wind of it hitting the shelves. The likelihood of Sam getting any candy was abysmal, and, frankly, even if she did get any, it wouldn't even be for her, it would be for you.
Claudia joined you for the neighborhood walk, but the number of dark houses was a total mood killer. Most kids were ambling around like the living dead, trying to find a house that still had stock of whatever treat they'd prepared. You would wait in line at those rare doors with Claudia, only to be told they were saving their treats for bigger kids this year who could actually eat it.
"Well, this is no fun," Claudia said as you looked into Sam's bucket at the end of your fourth street. She had accumulated two oatmeal raisin cookies (from Claudia), a pair of crayons tied with a ribbon, a bookmark, a bag of trail mix, and a popcorn ball. "If Halloween is this bad, I can't even imagine Thanksgiving in these conditions."
You grimaced, not even wanting to think about it. Last year had already been rough, but with restocks at the store getting worse and worse, you couldn't even be sure you'd be able to throw together a decent meal at all. How long did you have until Hawkins was on rations?
"Maybe it'll all be over by then," you said, giving a half-smile. You wished you believed what you were saying, but you were just kidding yourself. You figured the military was in the same grim situation as your friends— searching futilely for something that wasn't there.
You gave up on Halloween after walking down a block of dark houses. Sam was asleep in her stroller anyway. The felt spots that Steve had glued on her little red crewneck were peeling off, fluttering in the breeze.
By the time Steve got home, you were dozing on the couch, lit by the broadcast of The Birds on a local station. You stirred a bit when you felt the blanket being pulled up around your shoulders, squinting up at the blurry shape of your boyfriend.
"What time is it?" You murmured, blinking until the sight of him became clear.
"I didn't mean to wake you up," he said, then glanced down at his watch. "10:15. Not too late."
You sat up, pulling the blanket up around your shoulders. It was already so cold in Hawkins, and you were longing for the heat of summer that you'd spent months complaining about. "Trick or treating was a total bust," you admitted with a sigh. "How was the crawl?"
Steve sat down beside you on the couch, picking at a loose thread on the blanket. "Well… Vecna is definitely not in sector H2," he said with a sidelong glance at you. "But… Murray smuggled something in for us."
You sat up, eyes wide as he pulled out a plastic pumpkin bucket filled with candy. You exhaled slowly at the sight and swallowed. "Is that all he brought?"
Steve's brows furrowed and he nodded. "Uh, yeah," he said with a teasing grin. "This is a ton of candy, baby. Don't be ungrateful."
You brought a smile to your lips and took a Krackel from the bag. "I'm not ungrateful," you insisted, trying to play off your disappointment. "I just asked him for a bag of Doritos two weeks ago and I'm still waiting."
Steve shrugged and grabbed a Mr. Goodbar. "Yeah, well, you know how he is," he said. "He likes to make you wait so you forget what you asked for and he can play hero. Here, put your feet in my lap."
You obliged, leaning back against the throw pillows as Steve moved your socked feet into his lap and began to rub them carefully. You sighed, peering over at him as you melted into the cushions. You couldn't even stay mad at him for going on the crawl, because your own plans had proved equally futile. Besides, he was so eager to get back on your good side.
It made you feel a little worse about lying. Well, not lying, exactly. Withholding the truth… actually, withholding a few truths. But that was fine, really. No one is ever totally, completely honest in a relationship.
"How's that feel?" He asked, and you hummed softly as his thumbs pressed into the arch of your foot. They were kind of sore from walking all the way to Dustin's street, then all the way around that branch of the suburbs.
"Really good," you sighed, melting into the cushions. "Next year, you're taking Sam and I'm handing out candy." He laughed and shook his head, but didn't argue. You just hoped that everything would be wrapped up by then.
"Next year," Steve mused, the corner of his mouth twitching down for a moment as he stared at the screen. You wanted to pull at that thread— just unravel his brain before you so you could know everything that he was thinking. His breath caught like he might have wanted to say something, but he held back.
It didn't matter what either of you wanted— your reality was completely out of your hands. A freaky monster could burst through your wall and rip you to pieces at any time, and you couldn't even stop it. No amount of crawls seemed to be able to stop it, but the party was convinced that if they stopped pushing that rock up the hill, it'd roll back and crush them all.
"I'm really sorry I missed tonight," he said, and you shivered as his hands moved up your calves, thumbs gliding along the muscle. You sighed softly, visibly deflating. "I don't like when you're mad at me. Things have just felt off for the past few weeks."
"I'm not mad, baby," you murmured, guilt itching under your skin. "I'm just tired, and stir crazy, and I hate my job, and I'm really fucking jealous that you get to, like, fuck around at the station all day."
Steve made a face. "I told you that if you wanted, I could get a job." Which was technically true, but practically out of the question. The party would blow a fuse if Steve ditched his responsibilities at the Squawk, even though Jonathan was plenty capable of running sound effects.
And it was the way he worded it too. If you wanted, like he had to pin it all on you. Of course you wanted him to get a job, so there wasn't so much pressure on your back to schmooze for tips so you could buy food and clothes for Sam. And you were lucky. Steve still got an allowance, and you lived in a fancy house rent free.
You'd just been feeling so angry lately. At the circumstances, at your finances, at the constant stream of people pulling Steve away and away and away. And maybe that was putting a strain on the two of you, a coldness.
Steve stood behind you in the mirror, watching as you brushed your teeth and got ready for bed. You could feel his gaze as much as you could see it, like a shock of electricity every time your gaze met his in the glass.
"Steve," you said firmly, but with the toothbrush in your mouth it came out more like shteef.
When you leaned down to spit the foam out, he leaned over you, kissing between your shoulder blades. You sighed softly, eyes fluttering shut as he pressed his forehead to the top of your spine.
"My beautiful girl," he murmured. His hands came down on either side of you on the counter, caging you in beneath him. He was so warm where he pressed against you, a living furnace. "Let me make it up to you."
"Not tonight, baby," you said softly, turning to kiss the side of his face. "I'm exhausted."
And, to Steve's credit, he never pushed, never demanded. He kissed your shoulder tenderly, then kissed your temple as he stood. "I love you," he said, and you shivered as he combed his fingers through your hair. "I promise this'll all be over soon."
A sad smile twitched on your lips. You'd been wanting the quarantine to end for over a year, so why did the idea of things changing soon feel like a dagger in your gut? This was you and Steve in a fancy house that you knew you'd never have been able to afford on your own. You and Steve and your little peanut, who was only ever going to get bigger and bigger. It was the strange circumstances that made you feel like you were living your life in a snow globe— this little family disturbed by an invisible creature shaking things up.
You wanted things to change, you wanted them to stay the same. And, above all, you felt uncomfortably confused about how you felt about anything at all.
On Tuesday, you stared at the ceiling for a while before you had to finally get up and grab Sam. You watched the ceiling fan whirling lazily, always on even in the winter since Steve ran so hot. When he left, he had jostled the bed a bit and woken you up, and you hadn't managed to fall back asleep, which was a total bummer.
Your thoughts weren't very Vecna-safe lately, which you were trying to find ways to remedy. You'd grabbed some sort of grief-counseling, depression cure book from the secondhand store a month back, but there wasn't anything of use inside. Until you found one that covered losing your best friends in a tragic, inter-dimensional disaster, getting custody of their baby, and being trapped inside of your town while holding the secret of said inter-dimensional disaster, you'd be on your own.
It was just something about the distance. The night before their date, with all the crazy shit going on in town, you'd hunkered down in their living room and spent the night on their couch. You watched stupid slashers that Tommy had picked and ate some weird casserole that Carol had made.
You couldn't even remember what it was anymore, even though you'd made fun of her failed attempt at being Julia Child for that entire night. You couldn't remember the story Tommy was telling you about work, or why he'd been mad at his Dad that weekend.
The picture of Carol in your mind was getting fuzzy. Sometimes she was your Carol— the one who'd grinned at you in the doorway and told you not to wait up as she climbed into the passenger's seat. And sometimes she was different. She was Carol from Sophomore year, or summer camp. Blurred around the edges, overexposed like she was shot on bad film.
Steve had found you crying in the closet in March, flipping through your photo albums like memorizing her face again was an act of penance. He sat next to you on the floor and pointed to his favorite pictures, asking you about certain days until you were laughing more than you were crying.
He was good about that, but there were some things he just couldn't fix. Not for you, not for Dustin, not for anyone. Not yet, at least.
Sam stirred over the monitor— you could hear the creak of her standing up and leaning on the crib bars over the shitty speakers, and you were paranoid that she'd fall through one day and hurt herself. With a sigh, you stood and trudged upstairs.
She was waiting for you when you opened the door, her hair messy from sleep and sticking to her chubby face. The gloominess of the morning melted away as you took her into your arms and planted a kiss on her forehead.
"Can you say, good morning?" You encouraged as you carried her over to the changing table. "Good morning, mama." She babbled something close enough, which you took as a win.
Mornings were always good. You made breakfast and watched Sesame Street together. Even though it was a bit chilly outside, you both went for a walk and pet Ms. Phillips' golden retriever when it poked its head through the fence.
As the afternoon rolled around, you got her fed, changed, and loaded into the car so that you could drive her to the station and drop her off with Steve.
Work continued to be a sore spot. It was far from glamorous— a waitressing gig at a little diner just outside of the military containment zone. But it was free lunch, a meager wage, and tips. You'd gotten good at guilting people into leaving you a few bills on the tabletop.
Nancy and Robin were already standing outside of the station when you arrived— arms crossed, gaze fixed skyward. You unloaded Sam and joined them, trying to follow their gaze. "What's going on, why's the station dead?" You asked. Sam reached over for Nancy, tugging on her hair for attention until she finally relented and moved her into her arms.
"Something with the remote radio head," Robin said, shielding the sun with her hand as she looked up at the tower. Before you could ask, hey, what's a remote radio head, you craned your neck and saw Steve and Jonathan racing up the ladders to the top.
Jesus Christ. "I'm gonna be late for my shift, and Mr. Matthews already hates me," you groaned, crossing your arms as you watched Steve rush up the ladder.
The height alone made you feel queasy, and you had to turn away from the sight before you sympathetically puked. In the distance, a large truck kicked up dust on the road. You shielded your eyes and squinted, brows furrowing.
"He's back early," you noted with a quick glance back at Nancy.
A shadow crossed her face as her expression went steely. Her throat bobbed as she swallowed. "Yeah, he is."
While Nancy and Robin hurried over to greet Murray, you took Sam back into your arms and watched anxiously as Steve pressed a button, or something, then raced Jonathan back down. He smiled at the sight of you waiting and jogged over even though he was already out of breath.
"Murray's back," you said as he took Sam into his arms. He greeted you with a quick peck on the lips, and only then seemed to process what you said.
"That's really soon," he said with a small frown. With Sam on his hip, he hurried over, and you could do little more than follow along to where Murray was already handing out his presents.
Boppers for Steve, Telemetry tags for the next crawl, a cassette for Jonathan and— "Doritos for the lady." You accepted the bag, already opened and chip-clipped back together, with a tight lipped smile. "I hope you'll forgive me, they really tested my self control."
A frown turned at your lips at his crushing lack of subtlety. With an exaggerated wink in your direction, he moved onto Nancy, with smuggled in details of the military's premature venture into the Upside Down. Steve, if puzzled by the fact that Murray had seemingly eaten your gift, said nothing. The group's focus was now on a surprise military burn, which meant you had the chance to slip away unquestioned.
Hastily, you kissed Steve's cheek and nodded towards the car. "Steve, I've gotta go," you said, your grip death-tight on the bag of chips. "I can't be late again, and I'm already…" you glanced at your watch and swore colorfully. With an exasperated sigh, Steve covered Sam's ears. "Fuck, I'm really late. You'll call the diner if something comes up, yeah?"
Before he could even respond, you had kissed Samantha's forehead and jogged to the car. "Great, perfect, I'll see you tonight!"
The only reason you'd been able to get a job at the diner was because Tina's family owned the place and her mom had always had a soft spot for you. It didn't, however, protect you from ire whenever you darted in fifteen minutes after your shift was supposed to start.
"This is the third time you've been late this month," Mr. Matthews lectured as you darted in the back door and grabbed your server book as you clocked in. "We have people waiting, get out there."
"I'm sorry, I'm sorry," you murmured, giving your best pleading look as you hit the floor. "Samantha had a rough morning, I promise I got here as quickly as I could."
Working was a great way to turn your brain off and slip back into the easy charm you'd carried yourself with in high school. The charisma and saccharine sweetness you'd used to get out of any trouble that Carol got you in… most of the time.
At least you weren't being fake to the sweet old people at the tables. They gushed over the (strategically placed) Polaroid of Sam you kept clipped to your book, right in their sight line as you took their order. Everyone was a regular, especially in quarantine where options were limited, so you milked their familiarity and empathy over your plight for your monetary benefit.
By the time the lunch rush ended, your feet hurt and your body ached as you sat at the corner booth and picked at a turkey club. The tinny speakers of your Walkman played a new mix that Steve had made. Songs for you, Fall '87.
None of the songs were actually from Fall of '87, lots of them weren't even from the eighties at all. So you listened to Mrs. Robinson and wondering if lying by omission was just as bad as bold faced lying.
The restaurant was pretty dead, which meant you could run out to the car, grab the test, and lock yourself in the employees bathroom for the next thirty minutes. If you wanted to, that was. Which you absolutely didn't.
That left taking it at home and finding thirty minutes alone that Steve wouldn't question you about, or burst in for. You loved Steve a lot, but he could be clingy when he wanted to be, which was often.
"Hey, your loverboy is on the phone, says it's a babysitting emergency?"
You sighed and stood, offering a quick apology to Mr. Matthews as you shut yourself into the back office and put the receiver to your ear. "Babysitting emergency, huh?" You asked. "A bad one?"
Babysitting emergency was the easiest cover for Steve to call with any upside down related news, because he'd never call watching Sam babysitting, and he was competent enough to figure things out without having to ask.
Steve sighed, and you could just picture him leaning against the grimy fridge in the station's kitchen and running his hands through his hair. "Mhmm, seems like it," he said. "I mean, I didn't think so, 'cause it's just the sector that has the Circuit City and Bradley's, but Nancy and the kids think it's pretty important. Y'know, they think every crawl is the one."
You chewed your lip and exhaled slowly. "Alright, just radio me tonight if you need me. I'll come and get Sam after my shift, and I can bring you over something to eat while you're driving around if you want."
"My usual?" When you hummed in affirmation he gave a dramatic sigh. "I wish you could come with me tonight. We can have Claudia watch Sam, get some alone time. I could make up for bailing on Halloween."
You snorted and rolled your eyes. "I'm not allowed to go on crawls with you anymore, remember?" You said. "I mean, god forbid we try to pass the time."
Steve laughed, and you felt an easy smile splitting your features. There was something about just hearing his voice that made your life feel a little more pleasant, despite every single complication that seemed to stack up against you.
"Ugh, I should get back," you sighed, even though you made no move to end the call. "I love you, baby."
"Yeah, I love you too. I'll see you after your shift."
Working as a waitress had never been your dream. Carol had done a stint of food service at Benny's before he'd died, and you always relished in the discounts and freebies she'd given while you loitered at the counter during her shifts, but you didn't respect it very much.
Summer between Sophomore and Junior year, she pulled strings with Benny to get you a job, but you'd resisted with a wrinkled nose and an insistence that you didn't want to smell like deep fryers all day. It went over about as well as it deserved to.
Both of you fought constantly over stupid, petty bullshit. When she spilled beer on your favorite suede jacket, or when you knocked over a bottle of red nail polish on her carpet. Anything could blow up between you two, but it didn't usually have the staying power.
But that fight hadn't been stupid. You sat on her bed and ate the food she brought back from her job and talked down on it like it was beneath you. She thought you were a spoiled brat who didn't know anything about what it was like to have to work for a living… and you got defensive because she was right.
You weren't like Steve, whose parents gave love in tithes. A couple of hundred dollar bills on the counter when they left town, an automatic deposit in the bank account. But you had been raised to see yourself as better than being a waitress or a shopgirl.
Why would you have to work when they could provide anything you needed? Actually, didn't it make them look bad if their little girl was waiting tables or folding clothes? Unbecoming.
You walked to your car after your shift with mustard staining your crewneck and the stench of deep fryer clinging to your hair. You reached into the Doritos bag and felt your stomach drop as you felt the cardboard of the box against your fingers. With a hard swallow, you skirted it and grabbed a chip instead.
It was late, so you figured you'd get a couple of hours with Sam awake, then a couple of hours of privacy while Steve was on the crawl. That was good. That gave you time, and it gave you a delay.
The squawk was buzzing with activity when you pulled up. Your nose wrinkled at the boxes of ammunition on the floor, the schematics on tables and drawn out on white boards. Sam was partitioned off away from it, closed into the manager's office with Steve, playing with My Little Ponies across the desk.
You knocked on the window and he looked up with a smile, giving an easy wave before he scooped up Sam, her toys, and joined you in the fray.
"This is crazy," you said with a nervous laugh. "Has it been like this all day?"
"Yeah, and Henderson's a no-show," he said with an eye roll. "Y'know, that kid is really on my last nerve. The attitude, the snark. And now he's bailing on a crawl?"
You eased Sam into your arms and shook your head. "Well, that's not really like him," you said with a frown. "Is he okay? Did you call Cl—"
"Claudia thinks that he's with Mike. You drove by the cemetery on the way here, did you…?" You shook your head and he sighed. "Well, he'd better show up. I don't want to be stuck in the car with Byers. You sure you can't find a sitter and ride around with me?"
You laughed and shook your head. "Keep it in your pants," you teased. "And can you not be a dickhead to Jonathan, please?"
He had the audacity to look abashed. "Hey, he's the one who has the problem with me," he said, his pitch raising with defensiveness. "I'd like to see you drive around with Mr. doom and gloom all night. 'Steve, change the tape, this song sucks. Steve, I don't want to listen to The Bulls. Steve stop chewing so loud.'"
A scoff escaped your lips. "Oh, boohoo, poor baby." He rolled his eyes and kissed your forehead. "Your dinner's on the couch, hot and greasy."
"Love you, keep the walkie on in case I get bored." He slapped your ass about as subtly as he could in a room full of people. You pecked his lips once, twice, and grabbed Sam's diaper bag by the door on your way out.
One thing that you hated about winter was the darkness. As you unloaded Sam from the car in the driveway, you felt hyper-aware of the night around you— encroaching, suffocating. The strangest feeling that something was out there watching you.
You didn't know why, but your heart thrummed in your chest, the strangest tugging feeling behind your ribs. Instinct, pure and primal, that made you hurry inside and lock the door.
It's just because of the crawl, you told yourself. Because Steve is occupied, and everyone seemed so serious, and it's so soon after the last, and you're all going stir crazy and hoping that it's the one.
But you didn't hope that it was the last, because that would mean they found Vecna, which would put them all in danger. But at the same time, you wanted it all to be over. It was a dizzying contradiction that made your brain lock up. Steve had walked out of each brush with the Upside Down with new scars, you didn't want to see what would happen this time.
Crawl 36, fifteen months since the first. Eleven months of dating Steve, officially. Eighteen months of Sam.
It was crazy how much older she felt than this time last year. There she was, walking freely, talking semi-coherently, able to play pretend with a toy kitchen and keep herself occupied. Last year, she'd been mostly-wordless, ate mush, and could hardly stand without wobbling.
She liked to play by herself, sometimes. She'd be pretending with spare pots and pans and wooden foods, and when you'd try to join you she'd give you this incredulous look, like you were in the way. But other times she'd be so clingy and affectionate— curling at your side on the couch, pleading for another story… and another one… and another one… and just one more.
She was as spoiled as a little girl growing up in Quarantine could be. You and Steve wouldn't have it any other way.
By nine, she was dozing at your side on the couch, long eyelashes fluttering as she fought sleep. Her face was awash in pastels as you both watched the Care Bears movie for what had to have been the hundredth time. She had her favorites, even if you and Steve had tried to get her to love the Muppet Movie as much as you did.
"Ready to go to bed, Peanut?" You asked, rubbing her back gently. She shook her head, but couldn't fight the yawn that escaped at the mention of sleep. "Yeah, I think you are. Should we go get our jammies?"
After a moment's hesitation, she nodded and looped her arms around your neck so that you could carry her upstairs. Steve hated the staircase, and had considered moving Sam's room into his dad's old room multiple times to keep from hauling her up and down.
Those stairs were the reason that Steve had installed a permanent baby gate in her doorway, so in case she did get out of her crib, she wouldn't get far enough to hurt herself. As soon as you put her down, she ran to her dresser and pulled out a pair of pajamas.
"These," she said, her words coming out more like deese on lips that were still learning how to say what she wanted. As a second thought, she hurried to her bookshelf to get her favorite bedtime story… then another. "These."
Bossy. You smiled and knelt down to help get her ready for bed. She was a fun age, where she was starting to have a big personality and the words to express it. All of her expressions were purely Steve, and she'd started copying his hands-on-hips stance when she was feeling particularly grumpy.
When she was all settled, you pulled her into your lap and opened the first book. With each glance down at her, you watched her eyes grow heavier and heavier, until she was fighting the heavy lids closing over her eyes.
Halfway through Baby Fozzie is Afraid of the Dark, Sam was dozing against your chest. Over the past few months, you'd become an expert at getting her into the crib without waking her up. With a soft shush as she stirred in your arms, you laid her down and pulled her quilt over her to keep her warm. Around her, muppet babies and care bears stood sentry.
The crawl was going to go well, no one would get hurt, and you and Sam were perfectly safe. But… maybe you'd sleep in her room tonight.
Steve called you on the walkie while you made a late-night cup of tea. As his voice rang over the speakers, you jumped onto the counter and sat cross-legged. "Mhmm?"
"Dustin was a no-show," he said in lieu of greeting. "I mean, what a little asshole."
You shrugged, nails tapping on the plastic casing of the radio. "He probably has a good reason, Steve. Like, what if he's dead in a ditch somewhere? You'd feel awful."
Steve scoffed. "Well, he'd better be, otherwise I'll make sure he is before the night's over." You rolled your eyes at his dramatics and swirled your spoon around the hot tea, watching the sugar granules inside dance around. "How'd Sam do?"
"Good," you replied. "She's always good, you know that. She just went down for the night, and I'm about to break out the Atari and beat your score on Ms. Pac-Man. How's Jonathan?"
"Jonathan can hear you," Steve replied. "And he's fine. We're parked and waiting for the go-ahead."
You nodded. You knew he was bored just sitting there waiting. Usually Dustin provided a bit of entertainment, or at least a verbal spar that passed the time. With Jonathan in the back, it must've felt like a cold war in there.
So you drank your tea and spilled about your day at the diner— the weird flirty old man that had given you a fifteen dollar tip, the nice little grandma who needed someone to mow her lawn for extra money, which you volunteered him for. Stacey Cooper came in to get lunch for the disgraced former-mayor Kline, and Danny came in for dinner and avoided eye contact.
He knew you didn't love your job, and that making yourself leave the house every day to go clean tables and take orders was like torture. And he also knew that you tried to pretend like it wasn't mind numbingly awful so he didn't feel too guilty.
But what other choice did you have? Beg your parents for money? Beg his for more?
"Ugh, this tea went right through me, I'm gonna go," you said. "Call me if you need me." You both said your goodbyes and you steadied yourself with a deep breath.
Empty house, hours of freedom, a Doritos bag staring at you from across the kitchen. With a huff, you stood and wrenched it open so you could grab the seasoning-dusted box from within. It felt so heavy in your hands despite weighing next to nothing at all.
Your stomach roiled with implacable emotion as you locked yourself in the bathroom and laid out the contents of the box on the counter. In your heart, you knew that you should have told Steve by then— when your period was late, when you asked Murray to smuggle you in the test, when you snuck it away from him in a fucking Doritos bag.
You thought maybe you should have called him then, but Jonathan was in the van, and a crawl was going on, and there were a million things you didn't want to interrupt.
Maybe it was because you respected the sanctity of what they were doing. Or maybe it was because you were scared that no matter the result, you'd both be disappointed. You'd prefer to save him from that, if you could. What good would knowing do?
You opened the instructions and felt the pit of anxiety in your stomach threaten to swallow you entirely. It was easy enough. Carol told you that one time Debbie thought she was pregnant and got this insane glass tube laboratory setup she had to mail off for results because she was scared their family doctor would narc to their parents.
At least it wasn't that hard anymore. Small blessings.
It would take thirty minutes total. Pee on the sampler, put it in the first well, then wait. Move it to the second, wait. And finally the third. Wait. And that's where you were— waiting.
You sat on the edge of the bathtub and twisted your ring around your finger, just watching the kitchen timer on the counter ticking closer and closer to zero. Any other day, you might have craved a cigarette.
Well, you did, but given the circumstances it felt a little inappropriate to sneak one, even if you were eyeing the pack that you'd hidden behind a collection of decorative candles on the countertop.
You weren't sure if you were pregnant, or if stress had finally taken its toll on your body and made you all irregular and off. What you did know was that you were never particularly strict about safe sex with Steve, you weren't on the pill, and you were scared that trying meant an easy opportunity for a new doctor to narc to your parents for brownie points.
And, really, you knew it was a stupid excuse. You'd been pushing your luck for months out of sheer irresponsibility. Every missed restock at the store of condoms, or time when you told Steve he should pull out, but wrapped your legs around him even tighter as you got both close. It felt like it was finally time to pay the piper.
As you sat there picking at your nails, the lights began to flicker, then flash. The radio on the countertop powered on, flipped through stations in a staticky screech, then it all went dead entirely.
You went to the wall and flicked the light switch, until suddenly the lights turned back on as normal. Across the house, you could hear Sam starting to cry. If the power had gone wonky downstairs, it had likely gone haywire in her room too.
The egg timer ticked down five minutes, but you couldn't even bear to look at the sampler where it precariously balanced in the well in case it had already shifted colors. On instinct, you grabbed the walkie as you crossed the house to the stairs, hurrying up to comfort the crying baby.
Upon entry, the air smelled singed. It didn't take long to notice the black char on the inside of her ceramic nightlight where the bulb had blown out. The speakers on the shelf played soft classical music from the naptime cassette Steve had made during a slow day at the station, apparently having remained on after the power surge.
As you swept Sam into your arms, you shushed her gently and swayed. Sam was easy most of the time, but when her sleep was interrupted she could be an absolute terror. The next few minutes were crucial if either of you were going to sleep at all.
The radio crackled to life in your grasp. "You there?" Steve's voice rang through, more fraught than it was with the usual crawl hiccup.
"Yeah, I'm here," you said. "There was a weird power surge here, did you—"
"Yeah, it fried the van's battery so we're sitting ducks out here. Can you give us a boost?" There was something else beneath his request, an urgency that made a chill run down your spine. "Please?"
Something in your gut told you that Nancy was right, that this was the big crawl. The lights had never done that before, and Steve had never seemed so scared, not even when Sam got a bug a few months back and you had to take her to the hospital for a high fever.
"Yeah, just give me time to bundle Sam up and get her in the car. Where are you?"
The line went quiet as he presumably looked for some sort of landmark. "We're on Cornwallis about… five minutes down the road from the old Shell station where we used to buy beer."
Sam was grumpy and squirmy as you changed her into something a little cozier, but what choice did you really have? With her in one arm, you grabbed a care bear absently as you hurried out the door and down the stairs.
Just as you were about to grab your keys, you heard the shrill sound of the kitchen timer going off across the house and dropped them back onto the table with a dull thump. "Sorry, baby, I'll get you in the seat in a second, I promise," you apologized to your fussy daughter as you crossed the house towards the bedroom and bath.
After Carol got pregnant, in the brief stretch of Summer before you ran out of Hawkins without looking back, you'd asked her what it was like to have a baby growing inside of her. Just the thought of it had deeply disturbed you— a little parasite draining your nutrients to grow itself.
"Well, when you say it like that, it's really weird," she said, her expression wrinkling with distaste. "Actually, don't talk about that medical shit anymore, you'll give me nightmares."
You turned onto your stomach,relishing in the heat of the summer sun on your back while she hid her fair skin beneath an umbrella. "I can't help it," you said. "It's just… medically freaky. Like, there's something living inside of you right now, suspended in amniotic fluid, and it looks like a little alien."
She rolled her eyes. "Okay, now it sounds like you're watching too many scary movies," she said with a dismissive scoff. She pulled her sunglasses down her nose and leveled you with her gaze. "I don't even feel it inside of me yet, so I don't think about it like that. It's just… something that's happening to me. And I'm not upset that it is."
It didn't make sense to you. Your mother complained about her pregnancy with you every year on your birthday. The long labor, the sickness, the bed rest, the aching feet and headaches. You couldn't imagine giving up so much of yourself thanklessly to a little creature that might grow up to wish you never had.
But Carol was happy, and you didn't have to understand.
When you came back from fall break, her skin was radiant, her hair was full, and she looked perfectly blissful. She showed you everything they ordered for the nursery, and you didn't critique the color choices once even though you really wanted to. She left to pee when she was in the middle of pointing out everything she'd gotten from the shower, and you were left standing in this baby's room with indescribable feelings of sadness.
It felt like, once again, you had been left behind. Your best friends were moving on without you, into this new phase of life that you weren't sure you belonged in. Staring at the crib, decorated with an ugly peach and teal quilted liner, you wanted to just go back to that tiny bed in her parents house and read Teen Beat until you fell asleep.
On the couch, while you curled up beside her and watched a rented tape of A Chorus Line, she moved your hand to her stomach and you grimaced at the feel of a kick. "Oh, that's so weird," you said with a shake of your head.
"Yeah, you were right all along. It is pretty freaky. This baby is fucking killing me."
You didn't look at it as you turned off the timer with unsteady hands. Your nail polish was chipping— that was something to fixate on. Red cracking off in messy flakes to reveal bare nail beneath.
You took the sampler out of the well and dropped it onto the counter without fixing your gaze downward. You didn't have to look yet. You could have a minute more. Maybe a few.
But Sam was squirming and irritable and Steve and Jonathan needed a jump start and maybe the crawl was going wrong and every second you wasted because you were scared was another opportunity for something bad to happen.
You glanced down at the test stick and exhaled shakily, feeling a strange pang of grief and relief all at once. You wanted a moment to sit with it, to really process it, but you didn't have the luxury. So you shifted Sammie higher on your hip and left to rescue your boyfriend.
She cried in the backseat as you drove through the night. No radio to listen to, no sound of Steve's voice to fill the car. It was just you and the thoughts racing through your mind as you drove across the city.
You were going to tell Steve about the test. You had to tell Steve— it wasn't something that could just wait for better circumstances. Lying by omission was still lying, and you knew that.
Your thumbs drummed against the steering wheel as you drove, enveloped on all sides by bumpy road and stretches of forest. Before long, your headlights caught the blue paint of the van, so you pulled over in front of it.
As soon as you got out of the car, Steve squeezed you tight in his arms, crushing you in his grip. You gave a weak laugh, brows furrowed as you wrapped your arms around him and hugged back. It lasted longer than usual, until you wanted to wriggle out, but decided that maybe he needed it more than you needed to breathe fresh air.
When he pulled back, you gave a weak frown. "Things are going bad, huh?" He swallowed and nodded. "Jump the car, you can catch me up."
You rocked Sam back and forth in your arms, hugging her tight to ward off the cold, while Steve and Jonathan worked on getting the van jump started. And while Jon hooked up the jumper cables to your clunker, Steve told you everything.
Hopper was missing in the Upside Down, a Demogorgon had attacked the military convoy, then the Wheeler's. And they knew that because Will had seen it, which was weird enough. And it took Holly after all of that. It looked bad for the Wheeler's. Things were bad.
"It's not safe at home anymore," he said, his lips twitching into a frown. "I don't know why it wanted to take Holly, or who it might take next, but I want you and Sam with me."
"Is that safe?" You asked feebly, swallowing hard. "I mean… the track record for people who get close with all this stuff isn't reassuring." Barbara, Bob, Billy, Eddie, Max.
Then again, the track record for people who stayed away wasn't the best either. Benny, Heather, Chrissy, Carol and Tommy. People stayed clueless and detached and bad shit happened regardless.
You stay home and you're monster food, you get too close and you're collateral damage. There was no safe path, there was only a coin flip and a desperate hope that you'd chosen correctly.
"You're safer with me, I promise," he insisted. "I wouldn't let anything happen to either of you, you know that."
And you did know that. You knew Steve, and you knew he'd do whatever it took to make sure you and Sam made it out without a single scratch, even if he killed himself in the process. That's how much he loved you both, and you hated that you were so cowardly in comparison that you couldn't start a scary conversation.
Steve could be brave. You could be brave. You wanted to be brave.
"Steve, there's something we should probably talk about, but I don't know if this is a really good time or a really bad time, so…" But his gaze was behind you, staring at the side street feeding into Cornwallis.
Because there was Dustin Henderson, bloodied and battered, wheeling his bike towards the van. Steve sighed, shoulders slumping as Dustin lifted his hand in a lazy wave. "Put a pin in that?" You nodded feebly and brought a strained smile to your lips. "And do you have your—"
"The first aid kit? Yeah, it's in the trunk. It's always in the trunk." Sidebar— you were playing nurse again because Dustin Henderson ran his mouth and got his ass beaten. You didn't need to hear the lie he'd tell this time, you just knew.
Dustin didn't want to talk about it, and you tried not to needle him about it. You ran into the Shell up the street to fill up a styrofoam cup full of fresh water… then grabbed a cold can of soda from the fridge for good measure. Dustin held the icy can to his cheekbone while you gingerly cleaned the cuts on his face.
"I told Steve not to be mad that you didn't show," you told him, sitting in the back of the van while Steve and Jonathan fussed with the battery and passed Sam between themselves. Dustin winced as you wiped at the bridge of his nose, and you frowned sympathetically. "Bike crash?"
Dustin shrugged. "I wasn't watching where I was going." You hummed softly and held your tongue. Bike crashes didn't do this. It went quiet between the two of you as you worked, but Dustin spoke up finally. "What were you like in high school? I know what Steve used to be like, but…"
A tiny smile played on your lips. "I was just another popular asshole," you said with an eye roll. "And look where it got me. I'm not exactly going to, like, end world hunger or cure cancer because I was Miss Hawkins '85."
His eyes widened, and you could tell that the expression of surprise physically pained him to make, as involuntary as it was. "You were Miss Hawkins? How did I not know this? Do you still have the crown?"
You rolled your eyes. Of course you still had the crown, but you'd never let him know that. "I was a very gracious leader. People loved me, which was weird because no one really thought much about me until Junior year." You cleared your throat and tried to ignore that soft spot that refused to fortify itself. "I also knew your friend Eddie."
Your gaze flicked down to his torn Hellfire Club shirt and you knew exactly how he wound up sitting in the van and being patched back up. "Well… I guess I didn't know him that well. First we had Homeroom my Junior year. And then in '85 I had two months of lunch detention and Eddie couldn't find a scene partner, so Mr. Hirsch told me if I did the scene and performed it for Senior Showcase with gusto he'd call it even."
Eddie wanted to do The Taming of the Shrew, which you were ideologically opposed to. But he promised it would be fun and subversive, whatever the hell that meant, and you thought you looked pretty in the musty old costumes you'd pulled from the full racks in the theater's basement. So, whatever.
He was over the top and loud, and you got the feeling he didn't think very highly of you. He'd make these little digs about you being a princess, or about how rich you were, which irked you. But Mr. Hirsch wanted gusto, so you performed with gusto.
You didn't ever talk to him again, even when you passed him at school, but he didn't make an effort to say hi either. You were never meant to be friends, and neither of you were inclined to change that. It made you a little sad, considering how great everyone who actually knew him said he was.
"How'd it go?" Dustin asked as you put the bloodied cloth down and surveyed your work. Battered, bruised, and definitely scar-worthy… but he wasn't going to get an infection.
A coy smile played on your lips. "Eddie got an A, I got out of detention, and Mr. Hirsch told me it was a real shame that I hadn't considered theatre before." Dustin laughed, just a bit, and you tossed him a bottle of Advil. "Did you at least get a good punch in?"
Dustin swallowed and nodded, and you could read the, don't tell Steve, look in his eyes as plain as day. You tossed him the WSQK crewneck and gave him a small smile. "Attaboy."
By the time Steve finally got the car cranked, you had done your best to fill Dustin in on the events of the night. It probably wasn't the most effective summary, given you'd heard it all secondhand from Steve, but he seemed to understand well enough.
"We're going to go try to find Hopper's signal," Steve said, giving you a peck on the cheek. "Why don't you and Sam head up to the station?"
You frowned, crossing your arms. "It's not exactly the best place for a toddler to sleep," you said. "How long are we going to be away from home?"
Steve sighed and ran a hand through his hair. "I dunno… we'll figure it out as we go. All I know is that there was a rift in the forest, a tunnel under the backyard, and a rift at the bottom of the pool. I don't like thinking that a demo can crawl back through while you're home alone."
Spending the night at the Squawk wasn't your ideal night, especially with Sam in tow, but what choice did you have? Maybe home was unsafe, and maybe being at the station was the best place for Sam.
So you kissed him, told him to please drive safe, and made your way to the radio station, with the strangest feeling that it might have been the beginning of the end.
In the morning, you heard the van pull up to the Squawk and rubbed at your eyes. Sam had slept peacefully on the couch for most of the night, only waking a few times because her blanket had fallen off of she was missing one of her stuffed animals, but she was adaptable.
You, on the other hand, were notably not adaptable. You couldn't sleep on the springy, smoky couch, and you really couldn't let yourself sleep while worrying about Sam rolling off the couch and onto the tile floor. And worrying about Steve circling Hawkins all night in the unreliable Squawk van. And thinking that every tiny bump and squeak was a demogorgon just waiting to carve you up.
But at least Sam got good sleep. That was something.
"You're both good?" Steve asked when he made it inside, leaving the kids and Nancy outside. "Sleep okay?"
"She did," you told him, and leaned into his chest lazily. He wrapped you up in a hug and rested his chin on the crown of your head. "Watch her so I can grab something to eat? And coffee?"
He nodded and you trudged into the makeshift kitchen, a space which had been overtaken by stacks of studio junk you didn't understand. You rooted through the messily stocked cabinets and fridge until you found a half-empty, very stale box of Golden Grahams. The milk was nearly empty in the fridge, and the coffee machine gurgled in protest as you set a pot on to brew.
You grabbed one of the Boppers that Steve had gotten yesterday and took a bite, grateful to have something filling your empty stomach. With an exhausted huff, you leaned against the ancient refrigerator and watched Steve brushing Sam's hair from her face as she slowly woke up.
"Hey, morning Peanut," he greeted, and his voice was so soft that it made your heart ache. She sat up and looped her arms around his neck in a hug, and he didn't even wince at her terrible morning breath when she pulled back to say good morning.
Steve was a really, really good dad. He lifted her into his arms and carried her into the kitchen. "Anything we can get to tide her over?" He asked, peering at the cabinets. "I usually hide a container of oatmeal somewhere, I can make some in the microwave. And there should be a passable banana somewhere to mix in."
You kissed his cheek and shook your head. "Why don't you go take a quick power nap and let me handle it?" You asked with a tiny smile. "What good are you to anyone if you're a total zombie?"
He kissed your forehead, eased Sam into the booster seat at the janky dinette, and left you to make breakfast out of the random assortment of stuff from the cabinets. Oatmeal was hidden behind a stale box of Cheez-Its and a can of field peas. The passable banana was beneath a grapefruit that you would claim for yourself.
Steve had crashed by the time the rest of the party walked into the station. Samantha lit up at the sight of Dustin, and reached for him across the room, squirming in her seat. "Dusty! Dusty!" He came over and knelt by her chair, wincing as she poked at his bruised cheek. "Ouch."
He gave a wry laugh. "Yeah, ouch. Don't touch."
"Sit with her for a second?" You asked. When he nodded, you crossed the room to wrap Nancy in a tight hug. She stiffened for a second, then relaxed in your arms. You could smell the metallic, coppery smell of blood, maybe in her hair, even if there was no visible trace on her hands and her clothes. "How are you doing, Nance?"
She pulled back and gave an attempt at a smile. "About as well as I can be, I guess," she said. She shifted herself out of your hug and put a little bit of distance between you, and looked like she was going to turn and leave before adding, "Um, do you know Dr. Richards? He's the doctor in charge of the ICU, I guess. I guess I'm just wondering if he's good."
Your expression softened and you shrugged. "Yeah. I mean, he's a total chauvinist dickhead, but he's a pretty good doctor," you replied. "Hawkins Memorial is, like, the best place for your parents to be. And if it got really bad, they'd bring in the super good military doctors to patch them up. "
Nancy nodded and headed for the dinette, pausing just before she could cross the threshold. "How are you doing?" She asked, narrowing her brows.
You glanced at a sleeping Steve and back at her, narrowing your eyes right back. "Fine."
She cocked her head. "Yeah? No update about what we talked about last week?"
You brought an easy smile to your lips and shook your head. "I'm fine, Nance," you insisted. "I've got this handled."
Maybe Nancy Wheeler wasn't the best choice of a person to go to when you were in a crisis. Nancy wanted answers. Nancy needed solutions. So when you called her, panicked, two and a half weeks prior about a very late period and never followed up, she couldn't let it lie.
In all fairness, could anyone? But no one else had Nancy's perception and uncanny ability to read people, like she could see the truth in your eyes. And in that moment, you were about as challenging to read as a picture book.
Steve got a thirty minute nap before the rest of the group shook him awake. You stayed in the managers office and entertained Sam with copy paper and toddler-sized crayons. While the rest of the group planned… whatever beyond the doors, Sam drew what looked like a multicolored sea urchin… and you drew a remarkably uncanny cartoon of Steve holding the rubber chicken.
You finally crashed on the couch, cuddled up with a napping Sam. You felt drowsiness like a wave, pulling you under until it washed over you entirely. A couch that smelled like smoke, the scratchy cushions, the soft cadence of your daughter's breathing. It didn't matter that the sun was out, you slept better than you had in days.
You dreamed of Carol and Tommy, of hanging out in Tommy's bedroom and smoking cigarettes out of the window. It slipped away when Steve gently nudged you awake, but there was an impression of them behind your eyes. Equal parts comfort and longing.
With a few slow blinks, you brought yourself back to life, groaning at the sunshine. You glanced down and frowned at the sight of Sam missing beside you, but Steve didn't seem worried. "How long was I out? Where's Sam?"
"Robin's letting her play with the control deck in the studio," he said, with a casual glance through the glass over your head. "You looked like you could use some sleep while we got everything ready for tonight. Murray's bringing supplies, and shit. I didn't want to wake you up to ask, so I just told him to grab you a candy bar from a gas station if he stops."
You yawned and scrunched your face as you sat up. It was getting closer to midday, which meant you had been asleep for longer than you liked. It felt a little embarrassing to think about you totally passed out asleep on the couch while everyone did official business. "What's there to get ready?" You asked.
Steve shrugged and reached over to play with your fingers, twisting your ring around and around. "Well, we think Vecna's coming for this kid, Derek, I guess," his mouth twitched a little, anxiously. "So, long story short, we're drugging and kidnapping him and his family so we can set a trap for the demogorgon, tag it, and track it."
The last part of the plan came out in a sudden rush, and you could do little more than just scoff in surprise. "Steve, what the fuck."
"I know, but I can explain everything in the car," he insisted. "It's totally foolproof."
It was, remarkably, not foolproof. Robin was stealing drugs from the hospital your parents worked at, Nancy was going to have to shoot a stupid, scary monster, Lucas was in harms way throwing water balloons at the thing, and Erica had to drug an entire family.
Your fingers drummed on your thigh as Steve drove back to the house. Outside the windows, it was just another nice day out. Chilly, but sunny. Kids played at the park, old men walked their fluffy little dogs.
You wondered where you'd go when things were over. Carol and Tommy's place had been foreclosed on after sitting on the market for so long without payments, and you weren't really sure if that affected your credit or not, since it was technically two dead people's house.
Maybe Daniel and Sylvia would let you stay in the house. Maybe you could find a nice rental by your school and Steve could get a job nearby and Sam could stay at the campus daycare. You did want to go back to school, for sure, but the question of finances made your stomach turn.
Or maybe you were just hungry again. Steve pulled into the driveway and leaned over to kiss your cheek. You closed your eyes and exhaled slowly, relishing in the proximity. If things were perfect, you could just stay there. Lean over, wrap yourself up in him, and let the rest of the world melt away.
"What are you thinking about, huh?" He asked, mumbling against your skin. "Don't worry about anything, honey. Things are going to turn out just fine."
You rushed ahead of him in the house with the excuse that you really had to pee and take a shower, definitely before he did. He didn't question it. You tossed all of the evidence of the test you took, and turned the shower to the hottest it could go.
The guilt gnawed at you, making your stomach turn, but what choice did you have? Holly was missing, El was lost with Hopper somewhere in the Upside down… it wasn't the time for distractions. Maybe if you told him he'd get in his head about it and he'd get distracted and then things would go wrong and the plan would fail or they'd all get arrested. It'd all be your fault. You'd ruin everything. They'd hate you.
So you wouldn't say anything. You could wait a few more days, easy.
The wind whipped around you as you walked up the steps to the Perkins' house. Sam's cheeks were pink from the cold, even just from the short walk. The weather had turned as the sun got low, and you tugged your trench coat around yourself as you knocked on the door and waited.
Mrs. Perkins smiled as soon as she caught sight of her grandbaby, and you gave an extremely grateful smile. "Thanks so much, Mrs. Perkins, you're a lifesaver," you insisted. "It's just that Steve's come down with the flu, and you know she just had that stomach bug two months ago and it was so hard on her."
Mrs. Perkins eased her into her arms and gave you a smile. "Don't mention it. We always love having our sweet Samantha over," she insisted. You followed her into the house, lugging her diaper bag and overnight bag with you.
Their house was just as you remembered it. You followed Mrs. Perkins as she walked you deeper into the house and pushed open the door where Carol's bedroom used to be. Your heart ached, twinging as you looked up at the glow-in-the-dark stars on the ceiling and the crochet quilt at the foot of the bed that Mimi Perkins had made. Where Carol's vanity used to be, there was a clearly secondhand crib with a green quilt that clashed terribly with the yellow paint on the walls.
You swallowed down a lump in your throat and blinked away the persistent sting in your eyes. "Um… I packed her favorite stuffed animals. She always sleeps with her Bedtime Bear and the gorilla. She calls it scary dog, I don't know why. And I packed her favorite books, she loves the Muppet Babies. And I have a cassette Steve made her for bedtime that always knocks her right out."
Mrs. Perkins put two hands on your shoulders and gave you a reassuring smile. "It's just a couple of days, honey," she said gently. "She'll be alright."
You nodded and sniffled a little as you leaned forward to kiss Sam's forehead. "Mama loves you so much, okay?" You said gently. She nodded and knocked her forehead to yours. "Be an angel for Nana Perkins."
You knew she would, and you knew she'd be fine, but leaving her behind felt like a betrayal. She'd already lost two parents, and there you were, following Steve into danger. But you wanted to see things through with your own eyes— you wanted no question that your girl was going to grow up safe.
You drove to McCorkle farm and wiped your eyes before you got out of the car. Being emotional wouldn't serve anyone, least of all yourself. You sniffled and leaned your forehead against the steering wheel as you tried to collect yourself. This was right, you were doing the right thing.
When you finally gathered your wits enough to join everyone else, you found Steve leaning against the Beamer, arms crossed, with a frown etching his features.
"Still pouting about your car?" You asked, flicking the metal satellite. Steve scoffed, scuffing his feet on the ground. He was well and truly pouting, and it struck you how young both of you still were, even if you felt like you'd aged decades in the past eighteen months. "Hey, it's fun, maybe we can start a ghost hunting task force after all of this."
Steve glared over at Dustin, but broke his stare to look at you. His gaze softened almost imperceptibly, and you felt his gaze tracking over your watery, red eyes. "You've been crying," he noted, and his words were soft where his tone was still sharp. "Did she not want to go?"
You sighed and shook your head. "No, it's not that. It's just always hard to leave her alone, especially with all of this—" You gave a vague wave of your hand where the kids loaded up in the Squawk van and stocked up with axes and tools. "I just want to make sure both of us come home to her."
Steve swallowed and closed his eyes for a second. His chest rose and fell with a deep, slow breath. Maybe he felt dumb for being so upset about his car when there was a lot more at stake. You knew the feeling.
"Hey, we're just driving around," he insisted. "Worst that'll happen is we get a ticket."
That wasn't the worst. In your brain, you traced the millions of ways that this could go wrong and wind up with the two of you rotting in a military prison, dead, or worse. And you tried to stay optimistic anyway— so far, Steve had survived a fight with a demogorgon, being swarmed by demodogs, Russian torture, a giant gooey flesh monster, being swarmed by bats, and attacking Vecna in person… that was a pretty good track record.
Maybe a drive around Hawkins wouldn't be too terrible.
Steve nudged your shoulder with his arm and you reluctantly cracked a smile. "I really love you," He said, tucking your hair behind your ear. "Things have just been so off between us lately, y'know? And I know it's because of the job, and money, and a million other things, and I should be there for you more, but I promise it'll get better."
Your lips twitched into a frown. "Steve, you're just fine," you insisted. "I swear, it's not any of that, it's…" The words died on your tongue as Steve looked at you expectantly. You could taste the words on your tongue, so close to just spilling out, but you just couldn't. "It's not as important as this. Like… Property damage, breaking and entering, drugging, kidnapping… That's a lot for a rap sheet."
Steve chuckled under his breath. Across the farm, Lucas whistled and slapped the side of the van. Dustin, Nancy, and Jonathan headed for the Beamer. "We'll be fine. Take shotgun? I'm still mad at Henderson."
When you finally parked across the street, you watched in awe and terror as Erica cried fake tears and lied her way into the house with the drugged pie. She was a thoroughly terrifying little girl, and equally impressive.
"Y'know…" you said in the quiet of the car. "I should feel bad about being a part of all of this, but when I was going door to door for Mondale, they were such assholes. Major fucking republicans, by the way. Like… mouths surgically attached to Reagan's ass—"
"Okay, ew," Steve groaned. "We get the picture, and it's disgusting."
You sighed and knocked your head against the door. "Do you think the old lady that Robin took the meds from is going to be okay?" You asked again, to be met with silence. "'Cause, like, imagine she's in serious pain and that's the only way she can sleep, and the nurse on duty just thinks that she's a junkie and took it all and can't have anymore."
Dustin put a hand on your arm. "Yeah, we don't usually talk this much." You gave a sheepish smile and held your tongue as you watched the silhouettes of the Turbow's and Erica eating the pie through the drawn curtains. Your nails drummed on the window, and when that felt too loud, you drummed them on your knee.
Finally, the garage opened and the group jumped into action. You scrambled to follow behind, tossing your purse into the car so you could hurry across the street. The Squawk van was in the drive… it wasn't exactly subtle. You looked at your surroundings, praying that no neighbors chose that time to look out their windows, and frowned as you slipped into the garage.
They had their marching orders, and you did your best not to get in the way. Moving furniture, helping set traps. When Dustin handed you an axe, you looked at him incredulously.
"I can't use this," you said with a weak laugh, nudging it back towards him..
Dustin pushed it back into your grip. "Figure it out, Miss Hawkins."
You huffed and looked at Steve, who shrugged. Figure it out. You swallowed and carried the axe into the living room, feeling like a bunny in a lions den.
You were spoiled, and coddled, and babied. You were so out of your depth that you felt embarrassed just standing there among them. You raised the axe and slammed it down onto the white chalk mark on the ground. The wood splintered around the impact point, and you wrenched the blade free with shocking ease.
Turns out, lifting and carrying a toddler around for hours every day did wonders for your upper body strength. There was something cathartic about it too— seeing this perfect, beautiful wood floor that the asshole boot-licking losers paid thousands for destroyed at your hand. To see anything destroyed, like a manifestation of everything you'd been holding in for months.
You lost yourself in that catharsis until everyone else stopped and you looked up. Steve Harrington. Your boyfriend, the total show off. He was a showman, revving the chainsaw like he was in a horror movie before he took the tool to the hardwoods that you'd all barely put a dent in.
Afterward, when the floor caved in, you watched him panting across the room. He dropped the chainsaw, pulled back the goggles, and tugged at his sweater. He was annoyingly handsome, and you knew from the smile he sent you across the room that he knew it. The total asshole.
You two got to the car first, while Dustin did a quick pass at the traps to ensure everything was in order. "That shit with the chainsaw was super phallic," you said with a grin, nudging him across the center console. "You totally ruined my flow with the axe too. I was actually good with it."
He rolled his eyes. "If it looked like a dick it's because you wanted it to, perv." You shook your head and fought a grin. Maybe he was a little right. Whatever. "How did Dustin find out about you being Miss Hawkins?"
You felt your cheeks going a little warm with sudden humility. "I… was trying to bond with the kid," you said. "He asked what I was like in high school."
Steve nodded, lips twitching. "And you started bragging?"
You rolled your eyes. "I was not bragging. I was actually being kind of self-deprecating, so…"
You reached into the glove box and grabbed a Bopper. You hadn't eaten since you'd stopped at home, and your stomach was starting to growl. Steve leaned over and took a bite from your hand. It was weird, being included— the rush and the fear and the excitement.
"You said you wanted to talk to me about something last night," he said, wiping crumbs from his mouth. "I didn't forget, y'know. Things have just been so… but yeah, did you want to talk about it now, or…?"
You thought about it, really. But one glance over his shoulder, and you saw Dustin jogging back to the car. "It's not bad," you said quickly. "Just maybe not a conversation to have around Henderson, y'know?"
He nodded and gave your hand a squeeze. "Yeah. Duh."
Dustin slid into the backseat, eyes immediately narrowing at the sight of you two making eyes at each other. "Can you detach, please?"
With a grin, you glanced back at him. "Dustin, we're literally just sitting together."
"Doesn't matter, I'm nauseated, and we need to focus." He glanced out the window, watching the streetlights disappearing up the hill in the distance. You swallowed your defensiveness and turned your gaze out the window too.
The three of you sat in silence, watching lights that didn't flicker, didn't pulse. You leaned your head onto Steve's shoulder, almost lulled by the sound of Robin rambling on the other end of the radio. Something about the hospital and stealing the meds, and fingerprints, and sentencing, and Steve's uncle.
You watched a streetlamp flicker and held your breath. And they were moving, tracing a sparkling path to the Turnbow house. You sat up in your street, watching the lights in the house dance as the demogorgon made its way through the upside down.
Through the window, you saw something. An imposing height, gray, muscular flesh. Michael Jordan tall. Face like a flower with teeth. Sure, Will had drawn you a picture, but seeing it made it real. It wasn't pencil on paper or exaggerated words. It was alive, and it was in the house with people you cared about.
"Buckle up, honey," Steve said, but your gaze was glued to the window, where you watched the figure stalking towards Lucas. You flinched when he reached over you to buckle you in himself. "Hey, can you do this?"
Do what? Ride in a car near danger? If you couldn't say yes you'd be totally humiliated… and left on the side of the road in Loch Nora next to an active B&E case. So, even though you were unsure, you nodded quickly.
You screamed when Nancy and Jonathan banged on the car windows to get in, which definitely didn't help your, totally handling it, case. While Steve drove through backyards to chase down a creature that didn't care about traffic laws, you white knuckled the door handle and kept your eyes squeezed shut.
If the monster didn't kill you, the Beamer careening off the road and into a tree would. Then who would raise Sam? Debbie? Your parents? Worse… his parents? He hit a bump and you jostled, eyes peeking open to see woods passing by so fast that it looked like you were at hyperspeed.
You were going to puke. You were going to puke and probably die in this stupid fucking car.
McCorkle farm came into view and your stomach turned. The demogorgon had found Derek. It was going to capture him, which meant the plan had failed. You watched the demogorgon flip— tearing out of an oak tree on the side of the road and leaving glowing red sinew in its wake.
Steve shifted gears, trying to catch up to the impossibly fast monster. He turned fast and your head knocked into the glass of the window with a dull thud, making your head go a little fuzzy.
The demogorgon clawed at the barn doors, and you could sense Steve hesitating. Idling as he watched.
"Steve, floor it!"
"Drive, Steve!"
"C'mon, man, that's my family in there, hit it!"
It was all distant in your ears. You weren't built for this. You had wanted in because you didn't want to be left out, but you were so far out of your depth that you were choking on your fear.
Steve hit the gas, the monster slammed into the front of the car and you flinched as you heard it rolling over the roof. They were all alive with adrenaline, laughing and cheering, but your veins were ice as it stood to its full height in front of the car— bloody and visceral. Its face opened as it shrieked, and you squeezed Steve's arm so hard that you thought you might leave a bruise.
It was fast, so fast it could have easily reached through the window and killed you all for sport. But it just went still, and that was the scariest part of all, like it was thinking. You made a soft, wounded sound akin to a whimper and turned away from it, just as it turned and ran towards the silo and ripped a rift into the sheet metal like it was tissue paper.
Steve's hesitation was like a sixth presence in the car, fingers twitching on the gear shift, heart thrumming— you could feel it just like you could feel your own terror. His eyes flicked between the gravel path to the glowing silo. As he turned to Dustin, his eyes met yours, wide like a prey animal.
And you just knew that Steve, this man that you loved so much that it felt like an ache, was going to get you killed. Get all of you killed. Their conversation was muffled behind the pounding of your heart, because Steve wanted to go through that, to follow it on its turf.
"We can't," you muttered, at the same time that Jonathan argued against the suicide mission. "Steve, we can't. We can't, we'll die."
"It's fine," he insisted. "We've done it before, we'll be fine. Nothing's going to happen to us." The signal was getting weaker, and Nancy just wanted to get to her sister. Maybe you couldn't blame her for giving Steve the permission he was waiting for, you just wished you would have gotten out of the car first.
While Dustin and Jonathan panicked and begged Steve to stop the car, you squeezed your eyes shut and held onto the door handle, unable to watch the rift drawing closer and closer. The tires ground against the gravel road, spitting it out as it sped forward.
It wasn't until you heard Steve sigh in relief that you opened your eyes to see Hawkins leached of all color and light. Your brows furrowed as you peered out, watching that same weird snow that fell after the quake floating by as you drove through.
You looked in the side mirror, brows furrowing as you watched the gate closing entirely. A claustrophobic feeling settled over you, like the time you'd been shut into your trunk as a prank at camp.
The "door" had closed firmly behind you, and the only other one you knew of was in the middle of the Mac-Z. The five of you were stuck in the Upside Down with no way out that didn't lead to immediate detainment and jail time.
Your forehead thumped against the window as you looked outside, watching red lightning flash and illuminate the sky, listening to the roar of thunder that sounded like it was coming from everywhere at once.
The demo had a head start, so that was a relief, at least. You didn't have to watch its gray skin stretching and moving around corded muscles as it ran. Steve's nightmares made sense to you now— how could you close your eyes when you might dream that you're here, in this place, with those things?
"You're quiet," Steve said, glancing over at you. "I thought you'd have more to say about all of this. Are you catatonic over there?"
You scoffed and rolled your eyes, still staring out the window outside as you passed the Hagan's. Tommy's stupid dirt bike was outside, parked crooked in the driveway, covered in the same freaky, slimy vines that everything else was. Just as fast as you saw it, it disappeared into the shadowy darkness behind the car.
He squeezed your hand. "Hey." It snapped you from your thoughts and into a very upsetting present. "Are you with me?"
You pulled your hand from his and stared out the window. He didn't push, for the moment, which was a relief. His hand moved back across the center console, and twitched against the gear shift.
"Going left, towards Lancaster." Dustin's voice became background noise as he navigated Steve through the upside down after the demo.
All the while, you watched the bad version of Hawkins outside, frozen in 1983, and wondered what you'd find if you went back to your room on that day. One of Steve's Queen casettes thrown at the wall, still in plastic chunks on the carpet and surrounded by flecks of chipped paint. Your diary and every shameful, hurt thing you'd scrawled in pen.
Carol had stayed over the same night that Will went missing— you'd driven her and Tommy to school in the morning. Would her pendant be on the nightstand? The same one that she'd been wearing the night that she died?
Were they in here? Your jaw worked as you finally let yourself think about what had happened to them last March. Did the rift burn through them like Lucas saw happen to that Jason guy? Did they die from the fall through? Could that even kill a person? Did they starve? Did they get hunted by something like the monster you were chasing? Were they alone and rotting somewhere while you were living their lives?
Had Steve ever looked for their bodies so he could bring them home? Didn't they deserve a resting place better than this?
You hadn't realized you were picking your cuticles until Steve pulled at your hands again. It was a bad habit, one of Steve's that you had unconsciously mirrored. When you glanced down at your hands, your thumbnail was outlined in blood.
"Talk to me," Steve said again. "This is serious stuff, I can't have you freaking out on us."
"You drove through a fucking gate into this place," you accused, finally whirling around to face him. "We're stuck in here because you're impulsive and selfish."
"I'm selfish?" He scoffed, glancing between the road ahead and your fiery expression. "I'm doing this because Holly's alone in here."
"Yes, you are selfish, Steve," you argued, your voice raising more than what was comfortable in the cramped car. "We had a plan, and you disregarded it and threw yourself— no— all of us into danger because you think you're a Hawkins loser who has to prove himself by being a hero. But you're not a hero, Steve, you're just an idiot."
Steve's grip went white on the steering wheel, and you knew you'd said a terrible thing just to sink your claws in. The car went quiet, interrupted only by Dustin throwing out directions for Steve to follow with a noticeably feeble tone.
"You know what?" He finally said, when he decided he couldn't just bite his tongue and let you wound him anymore. "I asked you if you could handle this. You could've gone home and stayed with Sam, but you didn't. You begged to know everything, because you're so goddamn scared of being left out all of the time. And maybe, just maybe, you were always left out because you can be a really miserable person."
You felt your eyes go watery, and your lip start to wobble, but you couldn't just take it lying down. "I'm miserable? For being the one to point out that you didn't think this through and now we're stuck with no way out?" He huffed, gripping the wheel tighter. "If I'm so miserable and off base, I want to know your plan. How are we going to get back to Sam? Our daughter, in case you forgot."
Steve scoffed and looked over at you. The muscles in his jaw went tight, and his gaze went hard. "You don't trust me to handle it? You don't think I would do whatever it takes to get us home? Do you think I'd just let you die in here? Is that it?"
"Turn right!" Dustin piped up from the back, and Steve turned sharply onto the side street with barely a glance at the road. The sign for the Roane Cemetery whipped past the window, not that either of you were paying attention.
"I think you can't admit when you're wrong. Which you are."
"I think you need to be right all of the time. But what do I know? I'm just a Hawkins loser."
A laugh escaped you and you exhaled sharply through your nose. Nancy and Jonathan were mumbling something to each other, or maybe your blood was pounding so hard in your ears that it was muffling them. You couldn't tell, and you really didn't want to hear their input on your relationship anyway. Glass houses and stones and what not. "Okay, fine."
"Fine?"
"Yeah, fine. I'm a miserable bitch and you're a Hawkins loser and none of it is going to matter when we die in here."
"Stop the car, Steve!" Nancy yelled from the backseat.
The two of you turned towards the windshield at once, and you froze at the sight of a giant hulking wall taking up your entire field of vision. Steve reacted fast, shifting gears, slamming on the breaks, but you continued to careen towards it, fishtailing as the car struggled to stop.
You felt the initial impact like a rattle in your bones— the sudden pressure of a speeding car flying towards an immoveable object dispelling through you. The windshield shattered into jagged crystals that spilled across the dashboard and your lap.
When car slammed to a stop, your head smashed into the dash with a dull, stinging thud. You felt something slick and hot, going from your forehead to your hair, but mostly you just felt exhausted, like you'd run a marathon. You thought you heard the horn going off, distant and far away, but then there was nothing at all.
A/N: Yayyyy so as you can tell, tcogb6 was getting WAY too long to post in one part, so I decided to split it up into two! Part 7 is underway now :) Please message me any thoughts, feelings, or theories that you have... i'm very very curious to know your thoughts after this one >:)
pairing: steve harrington x older!fem reader
summary: after your car broke down a few miles from home, you were happy to invite the handsome man that saved the day over for dinner. after a few glasses of wine, it deemed only fair that after he saved your ass, you returned the favour.
wc: 10.9k
warnings: explicit 18+ (minors dni), strangers to lovers, oral (f&m recieving), masturbation (f&m recieving), dirty talk, nipple play, praise kink, choking, degrading, spanking, use of slut, use of daddy, creampie, kinda mean steve, filthy mouth steve, squirting
It was around Cornwallis that your car had started spluttering, making a turn onto Kerley that it started jolting beneath you. Rocking you backward and forward as your rickety old vehicle was coming to a halt. You bore your hand down on the dashboard, as if striking the car with your hand would suddenly make it work, but it was no use.
The streets of Hawkins were desolate. It was the beginning of summer, so you figured that everyone was either at the pool or swanning off on vacation. But this was also only your second week in town, you had nobody to call to come and help you or even ask what to do. You didn’t even have the number of a local garage.
As you stepped out of your car and slammed the door behind you, you could hear the hum of an engine from far down the road. You pried your fingers at the edge of the hood, trying to pop it open to no prevail.
The hum of the engine grew closer, now accompanied with the sounds of the stereo pouring out from the windows. You glanced over your shoulder to see a maroon car driving toward you, then slowing down as it reached closer. Your palm curved above your brow to shield the sun from your eyes, squinting to gauge a look at the car as it stopped across the street from you.
“Are you alright over there?” A voice called out from the car as you made eye contact with the man sitting in the driver's seat.
Upon first glance, he kind of took your breath away. His muscular arm was hanging out of the open window, his polo shirt being swallowed by his bicep. His smile was kind, the kind of smile that made you return one without even realising.
You didn’t bother looking left or right before crossing, as there were no damn cars for miles. You simply strode over, your hips swaying with confidence as your eyes set on him. You leant down slightly to gauge a better look, resting your palm on the hood of his car.
There was a girl sitting in the passenger seat, with a short blonde bob and wide eyes. The two of them were wearing green vests, you assumed they must be on their way to or from work.
“My car just totally died on me,” You huffed a small laugh as you turned to point at the dead vehicle behind you. “Don’t suppose either of you are a car mechanic?”
“No, unfortunately not.” The handsome man beneath you chuckled softly. You nodded softly as you straightened, patting your hand on the hood of his car before taking a few steps backward.
“No worries. Thanks for stopping, anyway.” You lifted your hand in a wave, peering your head down to wave at the girl in the passenger seat before making your way back across the street to lean against your car to wait until a miracle happened.
You heard the two of them whispering, turning slightly heated which made you glance back over your shoulder just as the man leant back out of the window. “I can drop you home, if you want? Where do you live?”
“Uh, giving my address to two strangers? I may be new to town but I’m not naive.” You spoke playfully, your arms snaking across your chest as your head tilted slightly as you looked down at him. Your comment earned a loud laugh from the girl causing a small smile break against your own lips.
The man nodded softly, his hand raising to his chest. “I’m Steve, and this is Robin,” He pointed his thumb to her, and she toothily grinned up at you and gave you a small wave. “There. Not strangers anymore. Can I give you a ride now?”
A small laugh snorted from your nose as you nodded softly, offering the two of them your own name in return. You glanced over your shoulder at your car behind you, ultimately deciding it would be fine there until morning. You cleared your throat as you told him your address, pulling open the back door and slipped in.
“So, you said you’re new to town?” Robin turned herself to face you in the front seat, her blue eyes twinkling as she smiled softly at you.
You nodded softly, glancing out of the window beside you as Steve drove off before turning your attention back to Robin. “Yeah, I just moved like a week and a half ago. I don't really know anyone, I don’t start my new job until September.”
“Oh that’s so cool! What’s your new job?” Robin turned back to face forward, pulling down the mirror in front of her and digging in the glove compartment of the car, digging around for some chapstick. You thought to yourself that it was cute, he kept his girlfriends’ things in his car ready for her.
“I’m gonna be teaching at the middle school. I did my four years at college at the University in Indianapolis, then I was teaching in Chicago for four years but an old professor at Indy referred me for this job in Hawkins so, here I am.” You looked between the two of them in the rearview mirror, flashing them both a bright smile.
You saw Robin’s brows knit together as she caught your eye in the mirror. “Wait, how old are you?”
“Robin.” Steve interjected, speaking through his teeth as he threw a look over his shoulder at her. The normalcy of it gave you the feeling that he has to tell her off quite a lot.
Robin’s head jerked back slightly at Steve’s reaction, glancing back at you over her shoulder with an apologetic look. “Sorry–”
“No, no, you’re good,” You spoke with a laugh and a small shake of your head, “I’m twenty eight.”
“Oh damn–” Robin started, her eyes widening complimentarily. Her lips parted as if she wasn’t finished with her sentence, but of course, she was interrupted again.
“Robin.” Steve warned again, more sternly this time. His eyes found yours in the mirror, giving you an apologetic look which only made you smile wider.
The car pulled to a stop outside your house after a few more minutes of Steve and Robin telling you that they worked at Family Video, and if you ever wanted a free movie they could totally slip you one.
You thanked the two of them as you opened the car door, waving at them as you shut it behind you. As you began to walk toward your house, you heard the familiar whisper-shouting between the two of them that you’d heard when you’d approached them.
“Hey,” Steve called out to you as he got out of his car, briefly glancing each way before jogging toward you. “Let me, uh– walk you to your door.”
“It’s like, two o’clock in the afternoon.” You laughed softly, glancing up at the taller man and trying your hardest to fight the smile that was growing across your lips for the man whose girlfriend was sitting just a few metres away.
He beamed down at you with a small shrug of his shoulder, casual like he did this all the time. “Think of it as part of the welcome package. We’ll save you on the side of the road and make sure you get home safe.”
You laughed gently at his words, fishing in your back pocket for your house key before turning to look up at Steve. “It was really kind of you and your girlfriend to drop me off, I’ll definitely be coming in for a movie one night this week.”
“Woah– Girlfriend? Rob– Ha, no. No, no, she’s not– We’re not– No, I’m single. I’m not seeing anyone.” Steve stuttered over his words, his hands resting comfortably on his hips as he looked down at you, exhaling a short breath before you both shared a short laugh.
“Oh. Well, in that case,” You glanced over to Robin who was totally watching the entire interaction, quickly looking away when she noticed your gaze. Your teeth sank into your lower lip, biting back a smirk as your lashes fluttered up at Steve. “Seeing as I don’t know anyone in town, would you wanna come over later? I can make us some dinner, you can give me the rundown of Hawkins. It’s the least I can do, return the favour for you rescuing me and all.”
Steve’s jaw fell slack, his eyes widening gently at your proposal. It wasn’t until you cocked your head at him slightly that he fell back to reality, quickly nodding down at you. “Yeah, yeah. Totally. How’s uh– Eight o’clock?”
“Perfect, I’ll see you then.” You nodded softly before pushing your key into the door, throwing Robin a wave over your shoulder and ducking into your house.
As this was your second week in Hawkins, your house didn’t entirely feel like home yet. You’d unpacked everything for the most part, considering you had endless amounts of time on your hands as you didn’t start your new job until September, but there was still something missing.
This place was a lot different to your apartment in Chicago. There, you’d lived in a five floor walk up with practically only three rooms, and no central heating in the winter. But here, you’d managed to score a cute one storied house on a quiet street where you even had a backyard.
Leaving all of your friends there was hard, especially moving to a place where you knew absolutely nobody. You figured that meeting people here would be difficult, a lot of people your age nowadays are settling down with kids. So, you thought, what's the harm in trying to make a friend?
There’s no harm in inviting over the hot, single guy who you caught trying not to stare at your chest when you bent down to his car window? You’d have some dinner, listen to some music, and maybe end the evening doing whatever it is that two hot, single people do.
By seven thirty, you’d already started on the pasta sauce, simmering the tomatoes and tossing in chopped garlic and onions, pouring in a splash of white wine. Your dining table was perfectly laid with two bowls, two wine glasses and water glasses, and a set of fresh flowers that you’d picked up yesterday.
You were applying the finishing touches to your makeup, laying your pink lip gloss over your lips before flattening your hands over your skirt in the mirror. You went with the safe option, one of your favourite sundresses, hugging your figure perfectly. You fixed the strap of your dress to hide the strap of your bra, the bra that was matching the laced underwear you’d chosen for the occasion. Not for any particular reason at all.
The ring of your doorbell carried through the house, hitting your ears as you gave yourself one final look over in the mirror. You placed your lip gloss back in its place, shutting the door behind you as you made your way to the front door.
As you pulled it open, Steve was standing only a few feet in front of you, his face covered by a huge bouquet of beautiful flowers. Once he’d heard the door open, he was quick to pull it down to his chest.
“Hey,” He beamed down at you over the red roses and pink lilies, offering them out to you with a slightly cheesed grin. “I uh– picked these up for you. You know, as a welcome to Hawkins.”
You could feel the heat rushing to your cheeks at his gesture, trying to think back to the last time a guy had ever bought you flowers. “Thanks, honey. That’s so sweet, come on in.” You took the flowers from his hand before extending the door open, taking a step back for him to enter.
“God, it smells amazing in here,” Steve said as he glanced around your place. His eyes settled on the archway through to his kitchen before looking back at you as you closed the door behind him. “Where can I put my shoes?”
“Oh, anywhere you like,” You couldn’t help but huff a small laugh at his manners, a smile warming across your lips as you watched him toe off his sneakers. “Can I get you a drink, Steve? I’ve got beer, a bottle of chardonnay, or just some water?”
Steve followed you into the kitchen, leaning his hand against the island as he watched you grab a vase from beneath the sink and fill it up with water. “Oh, whatever's open, I’m easy.”
Your head slinked over your shoulder to glance at him at his choice of words, a small smirk tugging at the corner of your mouth as you turned off the tap. He hitched a small laugh, his lips parting as if he couldn’t find the words before you grabbed the flowers to unwrap them.
“Alright then, chardonnay it is.” You said as you placed the vase of flowers on the window sill in front of the sink, a perfect home where they’d get plenty of light.
The dinner was done shortly after you’d poured the first glass. Steve was insistent on helping you dish up or carry in the bowl of pasta or the side salad you’d prepared to go with it, but you were quick to brush him off, reassuring him that this was a thank you for his help earlier.
Steve was nothing like you’d expected. Of course, he was gorgeous – like, really, really gorgeous, but you were pleasantly surprised by him. You weren’t sure what to expect, perhaps a pretty face with not much going on behind those gorgeous hazel eyes. Simply a nice view to look at whilst you enjoyed your dinner.
But he was anything but. He was really interested in you, asking you about what your class was like in Chicago and what your favourite things about teaching were, what was the funniest thing that had happened in one of your classrooms. He asked you where you’d learnt to cook so well, even respectfully asking more questions when you’d told him your grandmother had taught you when you were young.
He was also surprisingly funny, and his laugh was like music to your ears. And when he’d smile at you over his glass of wine, huffing a laugh into it as his eyes met yours, you could feel the faint fluttering of your heart in your chest.
The two of you talked about your favourite movies, your favourite books, your favourite music. He’d told you about his first job at an ice cream parlour where he’d had to dress like a sailor, then how the mall had burned down. He’d told you about his first ever girlfriend who broke his heart in the bathroom at a Halloween party. By the time the bottle of chardonnay was finished, it felt like you’d known each other for years.
“So, you’re working at Family Video right now? Do you like it?” You asked as you leant back in your seat, the bottom of your glass resting on your knee that was crossed over the other.
He started by nodding, before humming gently as it turned into a small shrug. “Yeah, I guess. I like working with Robin, of course, but it’s hard figuring out exactly what I want to do next. So, rewinding and sorting through tapes is fine for now.” He offered you a small smile, taking a small sip from his glass.
“Robin,” You stated as you leant forward, resting your elbow on the table and resting your chin on your hand as you met his eyes over the table. He nodded at you softly before you continued. “She’s cute. How come she isn’t your girlfriend?”
A small laugh huffed through his lips as he lifted a hand to brush the hair behind his ear, offering you a small shrug as he pondered his words. “She’s my best friend, that’s all there is between us. Trust me.”
“I do.” Your voice fell past your lips like honey, the sweetness of it causing Steve’s lips to curve into a small smirk.
He leant forward to place his glass on the table, leaning his arm flat on the table cloth as you watched his eyes trail across your face and slowly graze across your shoulders, and then your chest. “What about you?” He asked, pulling his eyes back up to yours. “Did you leave any boyfriends back in Chicago?”
You gently shook your head to the side, your teeth pulling your bottom lip between them before lifting your empty glass from your knee back onto the table. “No, no boyfriends. Just me, all alone.”
Steve’s head tilted to the side slightly, his brows knitting together briefly before speaking. His voice had dropped a few octaves, croaky as it left his lips. “You don’t have to be alone, not when I’m here.”
Your hand raised from beneath your chin to tuck a strand of your hair behind your ear, running your tongue across your lower lip as you smiled at Steve. “How about I get another bottle of wine, and I’ll show you that Bowie record? It’s uh– in my room.”
“God– yeah. Yes, can I help you clean up?” Steve had already stood up, reaching out to grab the plates from the table when you laughed softly with a small shake of your head.
“Don’t worry about it, honey. I’ll get it later,” You lifted from your chair, leaning over the table to grab his empty glass and your own. You wandered back into the kitchen, pulling the fridge open to grab the bottle.
When you turned back around, Steve was leaning in the archway waiting for you. He leant easily, resting his weight on his shoulder like he’d done so a hundred times before. As you made your way closer, his arm lifted from his side for you to lead the way.
Once the door to your bedroom clicked shut behind you, you turned to watch Steve as his eyes trailed over the details of your room. You watched his smile widen at the picture on your dresser of you with your friends from Chicago, a small laugh escaping you when he noticed you watching him and retreated to the edge of your bed like he’d been caught doing something he shouldn’t have.
As you sat beside him, the mattress creaked beneath the weight of you both. You handed his glass back to him, using your spare hand to twist open the next bottle of the night.
You could feel his eyes trailing across your collarbones and your shoulders as you leant closer to pour the liquid into his glass, pouring some in your own before turning to place the bottle on the bedside table.
“So,” Steve cleared his throat gently, adjusting himself to face you properly as you turned back to face him. “Do you like Bowie?”
You couldn’t help the small smile breaking across your lips at the nerves that were now radiating from Steve, the eagerness he’d shown you five minutes before now hidden away behind his eyes.
“Yeah, I like Bowie,” You nodded softly. Your spare hand came up to push your hair over your shoulder, letting your arm rest on your knee to softly brush your fingertips against Steve’s thigh. “Do you like Bowie, Steve?”
His eyes trailed from the shoulder that you just revealed to him, down your arm to the gentle brush of your touch through his denim. He nodded gently, you watched his throat swallow thickly before he spoke. “Like a lot of his earlier stuff, yeah. And the new stuff – I like it all.”
“What else do you like?” Your voice left your lips in a sultry tone, your head cocking to the side as your eyelashes fluttered up to him, taking in how the hazel in his eye twinkled as his gaze met your own.
A small huff of air blew out past his lips, pulling his eyes from your own to glance across your room as he thought. “Oh, uh– Prince, Queen. What else? Some of Elton John’s stuff–”
“Think we already covered all of that, honey.” You said softly, pulling your glass up to your lips to take a small sip.
Maybe you’d read the situation wrong. Maybe Steve wasn’t as interested in you as you thought. Maybe it was just a bit of harmless flirting over dinner. And if you hadn’t shared a bottle and a half of wine, you probably wouldn’t be itching to find out.
Your fingers laced around the stem of your glass, turning around to place it next to the bottle on your nightstand. Once you turned back to him, you leant back into the mattress on your hands, your chest protruding as your eyes explored his features.
“Did I– read this wrong?” You asked gently, causing Steve to pull his eyes from your seemingly very interesting dresser to finally look back at you, watching his gaze as his eyes wandered across your chest. You took in a short breath, before speaking quietly. “Don’t you want to kiss me, Steve?”
His eyes widened gently at your words, his tongue parting his lips to trail across his lower lip. He shifted his body toward you, leaning to the side to place his glass on the floor before speaking gently. “Fuck, yes. Yeah, I wanna kiss you.”
“What are you waiting for then?” You spoke with a soft laugh, your leg falling off the edge of the bed to give him space, pushing yourself up from leaning back to bring your hand to his chest.
A small smirk crept against his lips as his eyes fell to your own. His hand lifted from his lap, the tips of his fingers brushing against the apple of your cheek before pushing through your hair, holding you steady as he leant in.
As his lips found yours, your hand slipped over the fabric of his t-shirt to wrap your fingers around his collar, pulling him closer into you. His lips tenderly pressed into your upper, both of you working with each other like you’d done this a thousand times before.
His fingers curled through your hair at the nape of your neck, his other hand finding your waist to hold you steady as your tongue pressed at the seam of his mouth. His lips parted for you, a soft sigh escaping him as you coaxed your tongue against his own.
Your other hand lifted to join at his collar, pulling the fabric around his shoulders together, urging to pull his shirt over his head. You pulled your lips back from his, your smirk widening at the soft groan that escaped him as he leant forward to chase your lips. You pressed a small peck against him, then another, before pulling his shirt over his head.
His hands pulled from you to work with you in discarding it, his chest heaving slightly as you tossed it to the floor beside you. You took your lower lip between your teeth as your eyes dropped down.
God, he was somehow even more beautiful with his shirt off. The moles and freckles that you’d been staring at over dinner trailed across his shoulders, his chest and his stomach, living happily beneath a coarse span of hair across his chest. You trailed your fingertips across his chest, your eyes following the trail of it that led beneath his tight denim jeans, and the bulge that was now evident.
“You’re so handsome, Steve.” Your voice left at a whisper, your eyes glued to the curve of his stomach as he sat upright, your smile widening as it flinched under your touch as the tip of your index finger inched through the hair against it.
“You’re a goddamn dream.” He whispered as his hand found your cheek again, his thumb gently tapping against your chin causing your gaze to pull away from his body. When you looked up at him, he was leaning back into you.
A small sigh fell from your lips against his as the plump of his lips moved with your own. Your fingertips found the button of his jeans, and you pulled your lips back to dip your head to watch as your other hand came to assist you in locating the zip.
“I wanna make you feel good, honey,” You mumbled gently as you lifted your gaze back up to him. You lifted yourself from the mattress and shifted to the floor, kneeling in front of him. Once his jeans were unzipped, you splayed your palms against his thighs, gently dragging them back and forth. “Can I do that for you?”
Steve’s throat bobbed as he nodded, his eyes glassing over as he watched you drop to your knees before him. His hands wrapped around the waist of the denim, lifting himself up as he pulled them down his thighs. “God, fuck. Yes – yes, please.”
A small giggle fell past your lips at his eagerness, assisting him in pulling his jeans over his knees and down his legs before your hands settled at his thighs again. You leant forward, peppering soft kisses against the span of his stomach.
Your palms slipped up his thighs as your lips fell just above the band of his boxers. Your hand cupped over his bulge, your fingers curling around him through the thin fabric. Steve gasped softly under your touch, his stomach that is now damp from your wet kisses heaving with anticipation.
As your fingers curved around the band, you tugged it down slowly. Steve’s cock fell against his stomach as you freed it, a small gasp falling past your lips at the sight of him. His heavy, thick length that was already leaking for you.
You hummed softly as your spare hand pushed his underwear down his thighs, the other slipping around his base. As your fingers curled around him, a low groan fell past his lips. You watched intently as you circled your wrist, your hand working up and down his length.
“Fuck.” He murmured as he watched you, your eyes fluttering up to meet his, your lips parting as you leant forward. Your tongue parted your lips, slowly circling his meaty tip, collecting his precum on the tip of your tongue.
Steve’s hand slinked through your hair as you took him between your lips, suckling on his tip before sinking down further. You could only manage a few inches before pulling your head back up, your fist picking up its pace as saliva pooled in your mouth. You angled yourself above him, your spit drooling from your mouth as your hand continued working at his base.
“So fucking big, baby,” You mumbled as your lips dragged down the side of his length, your tongue working against the silky skin. “Wanna taste you so fucking bad.”
Your jaw twinged as your mouth sank down on him again, attempting to take of much of him as you could. Steve’s moans were hitting your ears and driving straight through you, straight between your legs. Your lips sank lower with each bob of your head, breathing out through your nose as your fist worked what you couldn’t reach.
“I’m– Fuck,” Steve whined from above you, his head tilting to the side as his hands came to brush your hair out of your face. You could feel his hips rutting upward beneath you, desperate to match your pace. “I’m fucking close, baby.”
Your hand slipped off of his length, steadying on his thigh as your nose hit the coarse hair that laid at the base of his cock. A loud string of moans escaped his moans as his hips thrusted up, holding you steady as he fucked your face, his cock hitting the back of your throat with ease.
You let him have his way with you, using your mouth until you felt his hips stuttering. You pulled your lips up his length, a mixture of his arousal and your saliva pooling at the corners of his mouth as your hand resumed its action. “Come on, honey. Are you gonna come for me?”
Steve nodded tightly, his chest heaving as his hips fucked into your hand. Your tongue swirled around his tip, eager to collect everything you were coaxing out of him. Your eyes fluttered up to watch him as you pulled your lips back to speak. “Such a good boy, Steve.”
His head threw back with your words, and when you felt his cock twitching in your hand you were quick to resume your mouth around him. Sinking down on him and using your fist to work him through his orgasm.
You moaned around him as you felt the spurts of his warm, thick come depositing into your mouth, swallowing down everything he gave you. Your spare hand moved to hold his thigh steady as you worked him through it, milking his cock with everything you had.
Steve’s moans choked past his lips, your name falling with them as you pulled your mouth off of him. The movements of your hand were slower now, your wrist working in lazy circles as you worked him through his climax.
“Holy shit,” Steve mumbled, almost in disbelief as you let go of his cock. Your eyes fell to your palm, lifting it to your mouth to lick at his spend that had leaked onto your hand. “You’re – Holy shit.”
A small smirk grew on your lips as you popped one of your fingers out of your mouth, pushing your weight onto his thigh as you lifted yourself up. His thighs parted for you to stand in between, his hands lifting to your waist as his neck craned back to look up at you.
“You taste good, you know.” Your voice was soft as you looked down at him, your hands resting on either side of his neck as your thumbs gently ran back and forth against his skin.
Steve’s hands slipped from your waist to the backs of your thighs, your skirt bunching up as his hands lifted beneath it. “Oh, do I?” His large palms inched further, until they found the globes of your ass, his fingers kneading the flesh as he smirked up at you.
You nodded softly, your teeth sinking into your lower lip as you lifted your fingers to push the hair out of his face. Steve’s hands pushed the fabric of your dress to your waist, slowly inching it further until you nodded softly again, giving him the permission he was seeking.
“Well, then I think it’s only fair that I get to taste you too.” His voice was hoarse as he spoke, inching the material higher until you overtook, your fingers wrapping around the skirt and pulling it over your head.
As you pulled the dress over your head and dropped it onto the floor beside your feet, Steve’s hands found your waist again. He leant forward, his lips pressing against the skin beneath your bra before mumbling against your skin. “You’re so beautiful. Did you put this on just for me?”
His fingers trailed down your side, toying with the black lace of your underwear that matched the black lace of your bra. You nodded softly, your hand holding the back of his head against you. “I did, baby. Just for you.”
With that, you heard him growl gently. His grip tightened on you, pulling you back down onto the mattress beside him. He rolled on top of you with ease, his body hovering over your own as his lips pressed against the span of your neck.
“So beautiful,” He repeated against your skin. He settled next to you on his side, his eyes landing on your chest as his hand slipped up your waist to snake around your back to unclasp your bra. “Can’t believe you were wearing this all night, just for me.”
You nodded softly as you lifted your back for him, your eyes not leaving his as your hand lifted to brush your fingers against his temple. He was so gorgeous, so soft that you couldn’t not be touching him, you had to feel him under your touch. “Yeah, I was kind of hoping this would happen.”
The two of you huffed a laugh as he leant forward, brushing his lips against yours as his fingers wrapped around the straps of your bra, pulling them down your shoulder and your arms before moving to the other side and repeating until he pulled the garment off of you completely.
“Fuck.” Steve mumbled after pulling his lips from yours and glancing down at your bare chest. His hand slipped to cup your breast, kneading the flesh between his fingers as his mouth dropped to press between your tits.
His lips fell to your nipple in an instant, moaning at the feeling of your hardening bud against his tongue as his other hand toyed with the nub between his thumb and index finger. You huffed a pleasured sigh, your chest heaving into him as his tongue ravished you.
His mouth left you with a small pop, wasting no time to move to the other as his hand switched to toy with the nipple that was now wet with his saliva. Your fingers curled through his hair, holding him against you as your head fell back into the mattress.
“Fuck, Steve. So good– You feel so good.” You panted as your back arched into his touch, your thighs squeezing together beneath him, beginning to feel desperate for him to touch you.
Steve’s mouth trailed to the underside of your breast, making sure every inch of you got his attention as his hand slipped to hold onto your hip. His thumb dug into your skin, holding you steady as he began trailing his lips down your sternum, inching closer to where you needed him most.
As his hot breath hit the curve of your stomach, the tips of his fingers slipped down to the backs of your thighs. His hold was gentle, spreading your legs open for him as he dipped between them to press his lips to your thigh.
His wet mouth left sloppy kisses on your skin, anticipation building between your legs as you felt Steve hum against your inner thigh. “Bet you’re gonna taste so fucking good, baby.”
You huffed a pleasured sigh as Steve’s lips trailed over your clothed cunt, his nose nuzzling against your mound. His mouth suckled at the dampened fabric, his grip tightening on your thighs to hold them in place as your body writhed in pleasure.
“Want you to stay still for me, baby, can you do that?” Steve mumbled against you, pulling his head back to catch your eye. You nodded gently down at him, lifting your hand to run through the strands of his hair that had fallen over his forehead.
Steve’s fingers slipped up your thighs to wrap around the band of your laced underwear, slowly pulling them down. You lifted your hips for him, manoeuvring your legs for him to slip them off of you.
He leant back slightly, his eyes wandering across your body as you laid bare for him. A low whistle past his lips as his palms found your thighs again, his hands tenderly rubbing the soft skin as he spoke in a low tone. “Look at you, honey. Already so wet for me, huh?”
A small gasp left your lips as you felt Steve’s thumb slip through your folds, his index finger joining to spread apart your slick folds. You lifted your head from the mattress to watch his eyes take in the sight before him, the tip of his finger tracing each inch of you that’s laid before him.
Just as you part your lips to tell him to move, to do something, anything, you watch as he leans closer, his tongue parting from his lips to pool at your entrance. Collecting your arousal on his tongue and spreading it against you, making sure he doesn’t miss a spot before his lips close around your clit.
As his tongue flattens against the swollen nub, his middle finger presses against you. Your back arches from the bed as you feel him slipping inside of you, his name falling from your lips and hitting his ears like honey as he slowly, teasingly thrusts his finger into you.
“That’s it, baby,” He coos against you, the hum from his voice causing a shiver to shock up your spine. The flicker of his tongue picks up its pace, toying with your clit as you writhe above him. “Feel so tight around me, such a tight little cunt. All mine.”
“S–so good, Steve– Fuck.” Is all you can manage as the thrusts of his finger picks up their pace, his ring finger slamming into you and curling up against the spongy spot inside of you that’s already making you see stars.
Both of your hands flew down your body to latch onto his hair, desperate for something to hold onto as your hips began rocking into his touch. His spare hand found your hip, squeezing you for substance as he worked you toward your first climax of the evening.
The sound of his fingers fucking into you, your cunt squelching around him and the feeling of him groaning into you was enough for you to feel that familiar feeling build in your stomach.
Your thighs trembled around him, his fingers bullying against your sweet spot as he slipped his hand from your hip to press against your mound. He pulled his lips off of you, his thumb replacing his tongue as his eyes bore into you.
“That’s it, pretty girl, wanna watch you come,” His voice was rough, hitting you deep in your stomach as the pad of his thumb drew perfect circles against your swollen, throbbing clit. “Need to feel you, baby. Such a good girl for me.”
His words were enough to send you over the edge. Your fingers curled into his hair, needing to hold onto something as the roll of your hips assisted you in finally coming undone.
Your moans were falling past your lips uncontrollably as you came around his fingers. They continued fucking into you, curling against your sweet spot as Steve coaxed your orgasm out of you. His lips pressed encouraging kisses against your inner thigh as he worked you through it.
Steve pulled his fingers out of you slowly, his hand leaving your hip to press into the mattress to pull himself back up to you. He laid on his side beside you, bringing his glistening fingers up to his lips to clean your arousal off of him.
Your chest was heaving as you looked up at him, your breathing sporadic as you lifted your hand to push through the hair on the back of his head. He hummed around his fingers, the sound of him practically sucking them dry made your knees knock together again.
“You taste so fucking good,” He spoke as he pulled his lips from his mouth, using his pinky finger to brush back the few strands of hair that had stuck to your forehead. He leant down, his lips softly brushing against yours as he whispered against them. “Have you got another one for me?”
You were quick to nod, turning your body to face his own as your hand pressed into his chest. Your eyes fluttered shut as his lips danced against your own, you could taste yourself against his lips and it only made you eager for more.
It has been a while since you’d been with someone as well endowed as Steve. Your hand slipped further down his chest, aching to feel him in your hand again to get him ready to fuck you – but his hand clamped around your wrist to stop you.
“Get on your front.” He mumbled against your lips, pulling back slightly to look down at you. A small scoff left your lips, pulling your head back to read his face. His hand slipped to your waist, giving it a small squeeze before he rolled backward and pushed you down against the mattress.
As you laid on your stomach on the bed, your arms crossed beneath your head to rest on them. You craned your head over your shoulder to watch Steve get up and position himself behind you, a small smirk catching against his lips as he caught you looking at him.
“You alright down there?” His voice was soft as his hands found your hips, guiding them upward so your ass was in the air. His palms flattened against your ass, spreading your cheeks apart to catch another look at your ruined pussy.
“I’m on the pill, Steve–” You mumbled softly as your back arched further, your hips swaying gently into his touch. “You can do whatever you want to me.”
Steve cursed under his breath, and you turned your head away from him, letting yourself relax for a moment to ready yourself for whatever he was giving you next.
You gasped softly, as a small blow of air hit your pussy. His palms spread you open further, as his tongue reached out to circle your clit teasingly before slowly trailing across your labia, taking his time to explore every inch of you like he hadn’t just minutes before.
“God.” He mumbled against you as his tongue finally slipped across your dripping hole. His palm rubbing small circles against your ass as he pulled himself back. You whined softly at the loss, before feeling his mouth latch onto you again.
His tongue slipped inside of you with ease, thrusting in and out of you with fever as your palm flattened against the mattress, collecting the sheets in your fist as you pushed your hips back into his touch.
“Holy shit– Steve.” You whined into your arm, breathless as his mouth pulled off of you to replace his tongue with his thick fingers. Two of them bullied into you, curling perfectly inside of you as his large palm steadied your ass, holding you open for him. He pulled his hand back, striking down on your cheek with a loud smack.
You gasped under his touch, your walls tightening around him. “That’s it, baby. You gonna give me another one? God, such a tight little cunt, keeps sucking me in.” His words only edged you on, the new angle of his fingers fucking you hitting deeper, and deeper with each thrust.
You whined in pleasure with each thrust of his fingers, each perfect curl stroking inside of you causing your legs to weaken beneath you. A small gasp escaped your lips as you felt Steve spit against you, landing on your asshole before dripping down your perineum to his fingers.
“Such a good girl for me, aren’t you?” He cooed from above, his fingers picking up their pace as he felt your pussy tightening around him. His palm striked you again, smoothing over the skin before slipping from the flesh of your ass to your hip to steady you as your body weakened under his touch.
You nodded, unable to find the words as your orgasm washed over you. Steve’s fingers took no mercy, continuing to piston into your cunt as it squelched around him. Pleasured cries left your lips as you released again, a rush of heat barrelling through you as you soaked his fingers and the sheets beneath the two of you.
“Holy shit, baby,” Steve breathed as his fingers worked you through your orgasm, letting your knees drop and your lower half fall onto the mattress. His fingers slowed down, almost soothing you as he leant down over your body to press gentle kisses against your shoulder. “You’re fucking perfect. Such a good girl.”
It took a few minutes for you to regain your breath and come back down to reality. Steve had settled on his back beside you, his head nestled into the pillow as his hand rubbed small circles at your lower back.
“Are you okay, honey?” His voice was gentle, a stark contrast to his tone from moments before. You nodded softly, lifting your upper half up on your elbows to give him a smile as your hand reached out to trail your fingers back and forth against his side.
“I’m gonna go to the bathroom, then get us some water, okay?” Your voice was still shaky, starting to push yourself up when Steve interjected.
“No, no, I’ll go–” Steve started, shaking his head as he moved to get up but you were quick to flatten your palm against his chest to push him back down.
You lifted yourself up as you pushed your weight onto him, his hand steadying against your back. “You stay. Don’t move, ’m not done with you yet.” You leant down to brush your lips against his own gently before pushing yourself off the bed.
The floorboards creaked beneath your feet as you padded across the room, turning your head over your shoulder to catch a glance at Steve as you left the room. He was watching you, a fond smile across his lips which you returned before disappearing into the bathroom.
After you peed and washed your hands, you were quick to bumble to the kitchen – avoiding the windows as you filled up two glasses of water. Your body was still feeling weak, definitely needing a protein bar before getting back to it, but you knew you could power through.
But when you crept back into your bedroom, you were met with Steve curled onto his side, happily snoring into your pillow.
You couldn’t help your pout as you crossed the room, placing the glasses onto your dresser before turning to your bed. You had half a mind to wake him up, but God, did he look so cute when he was asleep.
Instead, you grabbed the blanket that laid at the end of your bed and crawled into bed beside him. You laid flat on your back, turning your head to watch the way his eyelids were fluttering and the rise and fall of his freckled shoulders as he slept. And with him laying beside you, you weren’t far off either.
When the sunlight poured into your room the next morning, it woke you up first. The harsh, blinding light cutting over your eyes, realising you were so swept up in last night you didn’t close your curtains.
Somehow, in both of your slumbers, Steve had tucked you beneath his arm. He was laid flat on his back, one arm resting beneath his head whilst the other wrapped around you, keeping you closer to his side.
Your hand grazed across the hair on his chest, your teeth sinking into your lower lip as it tickled your palm. You leant forward, unable to help yourself, and softly began pressing kisses against each mole that graced his skin.
Your lips pressed to his collarbone, his chest, even down to his stomach before somehow your lips had found his nipple. You couldn’t help yourself, your eyes fluttering up to his face as your lips gently pressed against the nub.
Steve began stirring above you, his grip on your back tightening. Once you’d established he’d woken, your lips dragged across his chest to the other side, letting your teeth graze against his nipple, causing his eyes to blink open slowly.
A small, breathy laugh left his lips as his eyes squinted open. His hand slipped from your side and up your back slowly, the sleep in his voice directing straight to your core. “Good morning to you too.”
“Morning, honey,” You mumbled against his chest, you couldn’t help the small laugh escape you as you pushed yourself up his body to brush your lips against his own gently. “Did you sleep okay?”
He hummed softly, indulging in your kiss lazily as his hand crept to the back of your head, holding you steady as he mumbled against you. “Slept so good. You’re like a furnace, though.”
You snickered softly against his lips, your hand pressing into his chest as you pulled your lips from his slowly. “You were fast asleep when I came back in, I was kinda disappointed.”
His eyes opened fully now, his ears pricking up as you spoke. His hand fell from your hair to the mattress beside you, swallowing thickly as his eyes wandered across your face. “W–what? You were disappointed last night? Was I not–”
“No, honey, you were great. But – y’know.” You hoped he’d understand your insinuation, that you were wanting much more than his fingers last night. When you leant forward to kiss him again, his head turned slightly, causing you to pout up at him.
He adjusted himself slightly, moving his arm from beneath you to prop himself up on his elbow as he looked down at you. His eyes had darkened, all remnants of sleep had drifted away. His voice was hoarse, serious as he spoke down to you. “What’s your safe word?”
A small smile crept at the corner of your lips, your palm flattening against his chest as your head tilted up at him. “Steve–”
“I’m serious,” He started, his hands found either side of your hips and pulled you on top of him. Your knees fell to either side of him, your palms pressed against his stomach as his hands dragged down your thighs. “If you’re so disappointed, then I think it’s time you prove yourself.”
Your lips parted slightly as you looked down at him. He looked like a dream, his hair mussed and lips swollen laid beneath you with his head buried into your pillow. His eyes were dark, but the small smirk that was present across his lips grounded you.
His hand slipped from your thigh to wrap around his cock that was already half hard, his throat tightening as he circled his wrist, his fist waking up his cock just for you. Your eyes trailed from his, your hips inching back to watch his actions.
“You just gonna sit there?” His voice was tight as his hand picked up its pace, his thumb spreading across his tip to work into his touch, soft sighs passing his lips as he looked up at you.
You brought your hand up to your mouth, spitting into your palm before lowering it to his length, taking over from his hand. His hips rutted into your touch, a choked moan passing his lips as your hand worked the silky skin of his cock.
“Steve.” You whined as your wrist circled, your other hand settled against his chest and you leant your upper body down to his. His hand found your hip, squeezing you with encouragement. As you leant in to kiss him, desperate to feel the plush of his swollen lips against your own, his spare palm came up to wrap his fingers around your throat.
“Sluts like you don’t deserve that,” He spoke with grit, your fist squeezing gently around his cock at his words. His hot breath hit your lips, his eyes deepening into yours as he continued. “Now shut up and make me come.”
You practically moaned at his words, all you could do was nod as you blinked up at him. Your fist picked up its pace, but when his hand left your throat to fall to your hip, he lifted you upward, and you knew what he was wanting.
“That’s it, good girl.” He cooed as your palm flattened on his chest and your chin tucked into your chest as you glanced between your bodies. You readjusted your hips, watching as you pushed Steve’s fat tip through your folds.
Your breath hitched as his meaty head notched against your clit, his grip tightening on your hips in response as you began working his cock between your folds. When you lifted your eyes to look up at Steve, his head had rolled back against your pillow, his jaw slack.
“Fuck.” You muttered under your breath which caused Steve to lift his head to look up at you, his smirk drawn proudly across his lips. His hand left your hips, taking hold of his heavy cock and positioning it at your entrance.
The two of you just stared at each other for a moment, waiting for the other to make the next move. Your teeth sank into your lower lip at the feeling of his tip pressing against you, urging to stretch you open.
Steve’s hand found your hip again, giving the flesh a squeeze for good measure before pushing them down, sinking you onto his cock.
You cried out in pleasure, your head rolling into your shoulder as your cunt stretched around Steve’s thick cock. The feeling of him inside of you was staggering, heat pulsing between your legs at the size of him bottomed out in you. You let yourself lean forward, both of your hands steadying on the headboard as your hips seated on his cock.
“Fucking slut. Just have to take all of me, huh?” Steve whined from beneath you, his voice clipped as his hands slipped to the flesh of your ass, kneading it in his hands before he lifted you up slightly, urging you to move.
You nodded, your head tipping forward as you mustered up your strength to start moving your hips. With his assistance, his steady hands guiding you, he guides your hips up and down his length. His eyes were glued to the sight before him, your pussy swallowing his cock as he started fucking his own hips to match the pace he’d set for you, his jaw slack watching your bodies meet perfectly with each thrust.
“God, look at those fucking tits,” His voice was tight, leaning his head back to watch the bounce of your breasts with each of your thrusts. “Squeezing that cunt on my cock, fuck– Holy fuck.”
Your grip tightened on the headboard as Steve’s cock hit deep within you each time your hips sank down on him, mindless words passing your lips as he fucked you. One of his hands slipped from your hip up to your chest, his palm pawing at your breast as he rolled your hardened bud between his thumb and index finger.
“I’m– I’m so close, Steve.” You whined with pleasure, your head rolling backward as you felt your walls tightening around his cock. You hadn’t been at it for long, you cursed yourself for not being able to hold on much longer, but after last night you were certain you deserved it.
Steve grunted from beneath you, his hands settling tightly at the backs of your thighs. He lifted you off his cock, a frustrated swear passing your lips at the loss of him. Once he’d pulled you off of him, he let you fall backwards onto the mattress.
His hands were quick to find your knees, keeping them open as he lowered himself to press his lips against your stomach. You tensed under his touch, your cunt fluttering around nothing, desperate for him to be back inside of you.
“Look at you, such a mess.” He muttered against your skin, his palms keeping your legs spread as his lips fluttered against your inner thigh. You knew that he was avoiding where you needed him most, getting you back for your earlier words.
“I need you, Steve. Need you so fucking badly.” You panted breathlessly, lifting yourself up on your elbows to watch him between your legs.
He only smirked in response, his middle and ring finger pushing through your soaked folds as he spread them apart. He drew his head back slightly to spit against you, his teeth sinking into his lower lip as he watched his saliva drip throughout you, mixing with your arousal.
“Do you think that you deserve to come, baby?” His breath was hot against your skin, his words burning between your legs as you desperately nodded.
Steve huffed out a small laugh, his palm flattening over your mound and grazing his thumb ever so teasingly over your slit as his other hand pressed into the mattress to lift himself up to you, lowering to your ear.
“Are you gonna be a good girl for me, honey?” He croaked, his lips gently kissing beneath your ear before continuing. “Be a good girl and make daddy come?”
You’re certain you could’ve come just from his words alone. Your hand wrapped around his arm that was lost between your legs, squeezing as you desperately nodded. As your head rolled back in pleasure, your brain was fuzzy, attempting to find the words but they got lost on your tongue.
Steve pried his hand from between your legs and wrapped his fingers around your jaw, the tips of his fingers pressing into your cheeks to make you look up at him. “Come on, baby. Sluts like you need to use their words.”
He lowered his lips to yours, teasingly brushing his lips against your own. He could feel your body writhing beneath him, your hips rutting desperately for an inch of his touch. “You wouldn’t shut up last night. Look at you now, huh? The only words you need to know now are daddy, and please”
“Please, daddy,” You managed as you looked up at him, inching your chin forward as much as you could despite his grip to brush your lips against his own. “I’ll– I’ll be so good, please. I need you.”
His lips curved into a proud grin, his grip from your jaw dropping as he finally kissed you properly. His tongue slipping straight into your mouth, eager to taste you on his tongue as his hand slipped between your bodies.
Your hands slipped to hold the back of his head, mostly to keep him from moving again, needing to feel his lips on yours. You whined against his lips as you felt his hand graze between your legs, your back arching from the breath of contact.
Just as you pulled your lips off of him to beg him to fuck you, you felt his heavy tip press at your entrance. And before you could prepare yourself, his hand was holding your knee apart for more access as he drilled his hips into yours.
With each deep thrust, you whined in pleasure against his lips. Your arm snaked around his neck, desperate to hold him close to you as his cock hit places inside of you that you didn’t even realise could be reached.
“Wanna see your face, baby,” He mumbled into the kiss, pulling his lips from yours to look down at you as his hips drilled into you. “Wanna see you when you come for me.”
Your lips parted in pleasure, jaw slack as you nodded up at him. Your nails dragged across his back, scratching across his soft skin as the sound of Steve’s cock filling you up, bullying into your sopping cunt filled up the room around you.
“Holy shit, I’m so close – Steve, fuck.” Your head rolled into the pillow as your leg lifted to wrap around his waist, your heel digging into him in an attempt to keep him inside of you for as long as possible, not ever wanting to know what it’s like to be without him again.
“Come on, baby, come for me. Come with me, I’m gonna fill up this tight little cunt. Filthy little slut, milking my cock. Fuck–” Your hips began working with his own, you could feel your orgasm approaching you with each hit Steve buried into your cervix.
As he felt the walls of your cunt tightening around him, he kept the steady pace of his hips. His head dipped to your jaw, his lips sucking against your skin as his hand braced against your thigh, his moans vibrating into your neck.
“Oh– Steve, I’m coming, fuck–” You cried into the pillow as your grip on his shoulder tightened, your front arching into his as your cunt tightened around his cock. You couldn’t hold back any longer, finally releasing over him.
Steve’s hips stuttered as he felt you convulsing around him. With a couple more shallow fucks, his hot come spurted deep inside of you. His thick spend painting your walls as he continued thrusting, riding out his orgasm as your body writhed beneath him.
“I’m a good girl, huh?” You whispered breathlessly as you lifted your head from the pillow, Steve’s own head rising from the nape of your neck to look down at you. “I’m your good girl.”
Steve nodded softly, his fingers resting beneath your chin as his thumb softly wiped at a slither of drool that had slipped out of the corner of your mouth. He held your chin as he leant down to kiss you, his cock slowly pulling out of you as he whispered against you. “Yeah, baby. Such a good girl for me.”
Once Steve pulled out of you, he fell next to you on the bed. His hand cupped your jaw as he kissed you tenderly, pulling his lips to press to the corner of your mouth, then your cheek before settling beneath your ear. “Such a good girl, honey.”
You preened under his praise. Your eyes fluttered shut as your arms lifted above your head, leaning back onto your pillow as you let yourself come down from your high. You thought to yourself that this was a perfect start to your morning, maybe you’d drift back off to sleep for an hour, maybe go make some eggs –
But you were pulled from your thoughts when you felt Steve’s finger brushing against your sensitive clit. Your eyes opened, head jolting upward to see Steve back between your legs. Of fucking course.
He snaked one of his arms around your thigh, resting his head on it like a pillow as he shallowly pushed two of his fingers back inside your pulsing heat, his eyes watching the way your cunt swallowed his fingers.
“Steve, baby–” You whined, practically huffing a laugh. You remembered what it was like being with a guy in his young twenties, remembered the stamina.
“Mm,” He hummed, tilting his head to press his lips to the skin of your inner thigh before leaning his head back down. “It’s all dripping out of you, baby. Just making sure it’s all in there. So fucking wet, baby, such a mess. You go take a hot bath, and I’ll change the sheets.”
Your teeth sank into your lower lip, your hips rocking into his touch. You don’t know what was coming over you, but somehow you could’ve gone again. Your body was craving him. His tongue, his kisses, his fingers, his cock. Whatever you could get, you’d take.
Just as Steve was lifting his head from the plush of your thigh to ravish you one more time, the alarm clock on your bedside table blared through the room. Steve’s eyes darted toward it, his fingers pulling out of you as he pushed himself up.
He dragged his hand over his face, his voice consumed with panic. “Fuck. Is that the time? Shit, I started work an hour ago–” He cut himself off, his hand resting at your waist.
He looked at you as if he wanted you to beg him to stay, to tell him to call in sick and stay here with you all day. You pushed yourself up on your hands, leaning forward to press a soft kiss to his lips before speaking.
“It’s okay, Steve. I don’t want you to get in trouble, go to work,” You spoke softly, your fingers lifting to brush against his cheek as you leant in to kiss him again. “Go.”
He practically groaned against your lips, pushing himself off of the bed and began scurrying around your bedroom to find his clothes that had been long forgotten about. He mumbled under his breath about his vest, that maybe he’d have one in his car.
You watched him fondly as he hopped around the room scurrying into his boxers and his jeans, messily pulling his shirt over his head before glancing over at you.
He crossed the room in three swift steps, both of his hands coming up to hold your cheeks as he stole one last kiss goodbye. Your hands lifted to scrunch his shirt, trying your hardest not to pull him back into bed with you, but he pulled away first.
His forehead leant against your own, his lips curling into a smirk before he pressed one last kiss against you. “I’m so glad that your car broke down.”
Your head rolled back as you laughed, shaking your head before your hands shoved him at his shoulders. He held his hands up to you, laughing along with you as he finally made his way to your bedroom door.
He stopped in the doorway, spinning on his heels as his fingers brushed through his hair, attempting to style the sleep and sex out of it. “Will, uh– Will you call me?”
You had to bite your lower lip between your teeth to hide your smirk, softly nodding at him as you spoke. “Yeah, honey. I’ll call you tonight.”
Steve’s hand gripped at the edge of the door, you could tell it was taking everything in him to leave and go to work. He simply nodded back at you, flashing you an easy wink before pulling your bedroom door shut. You sat there, listening to his footsteps receding through your house until you heard the front door slam.
You laid back against your pillows, mind blank as you stared up at your ceiling. The last twelve hours seemed like a dream. But there was one thing that you were certain of.
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