summary ... steve just wants five minutes alone with you, but your friends have incredible timing. aka the four times you and steve are interrupted by your wonderful friends, and the one time you actually find yourselves alone
pairing ... steve harrington x fem!reader (7.1k)
warnings ... smut!, like this is porn with very little plot, mentions of reader using she/her pronouns(like twice), kissing, like heavy making out, groping, grinding, dry humping, slight fingering, dirty talk, steve and reader are horny for each other, eventual p in v, unprotected sex, reader and steve keep getting interrupted when they start to get hot and heavy
note ... i don't write a lot of smut, which is funny considering the first things i wrote when i came back to this blog was smut...i digress, it's not something i regularly write, but i got this idea, and i couldn't get it out of my head. so now you get to read my messy ideas!
masterlist !
ONE ― ROBIN
When you and Steve had decided to get an apartment together, you figured you’d get a hell of a lot of alone time, considering the two of you would now be living together.
What you didn’t realize, was now that you and Steve were living on your own, without eyes watching over you like little children, your small apartment, had become the new hot spot.
All your friends had designated it as HQ for hanging out, without having to worry about their parents looking over their shoulder.
That shows you, making friends with literal teenagers.
But tonight.
The apartment is empty.
You and Steve finally have the night to yourselves, and you were going to use it to the best of your abilities.
Steve had you pressed into the couch, hovering over you, one arm wrapped around your waist, while the other held his body up from crushing you.
Not that you would have minded.
His lips are firmly planted against yours, practically devouring your face with how hard he was going.
Your hands were wrapped around Steve’s neck, fingers looping in the hair at the nape of his neck, tugging softly at the strands.
Steve groans.
The sound vibrates against your lips, you whine in return, arching your back into him.
“Sounds pretty” Steve mumbles.
The words are shared between your lips, breathy and low, his words meant for you and only you.
“Stevie” You sound just as breathy, more high pitched and whiny.
The arm around your waist loosens for a moment, Steve’s hand wandering up the sweater you’re wearing, palms scraping against your warm skin.
With the skills of a man who knows what he’s doing, Steve smooths his palm over your ribs, fingers gliding over the expanse of your skin, you shiver in delight, gasping as his nimble edge at your bra.
Those long fingers fiddle for a moment, following the seams of your bra, before he reaches the clasp at your back, with a subtle flick of his wrist, it comes loose, hanging around your chest, useless.
“I don’t know whether to be turned on, or worried, that you’re so good at that” You breathed, using one of your hands to reach beneath your shirt and maneuver the bra off your body, throwing it down on the ground.
“Turned on” Steve nodded, a smug smile on his lips. “Definitely turned on”
You rolled your eyes, pulling Steve back into your embrace, kissing his smug smile right off his face.
You left one hand twisting and hugging at Steve’s hair, while the other traversed down his back, gripping the back of his shirt in a tight fist, pushing down slightly, wanting him to be closer.
Steve followed your subtle direction without much coaxing, his hips slotting right against your parted legs.
His jean clad thighs brushed up against your bare legs, your skirt hiked up around your waist.
Steve grinds his hips down, the hardened bulge in his jeans brushing right up against your core.
“Shit” Steve moans, pressing his forehead against yours.
He does the motion against, grinding down on you a little harder, right down on your dampened underwear.
You let out a deep sigh, biting down on your lip as your hips buck up to meet Steve’s motions.
“That feels good Stevie” You whimper.
“Yeah” Steve’s grinning now, sliding his jean clad bulge up and down, over and over your center. “You like that sweetheart?”
“So much” You nodded quickly, eyes slipping shut.
Steve hums softly nudging your face with his nose, placing gentle kisses against your cheeks, down the slope of your neck.
The kisses are hot and wet, his teeth biting down softly on your skin, tongue lapping at the fresh bites, soothing the marks.
The hand under your shirt was now pressing against your stomach, reaching up to cup one of your breasts on his large hand, squeezing it.
“So fucking pretty” Steve mumbles into your neck, biting down a little harder this time.
You back arches again, pressing your chest right into his open palm, fingers tugging harshly at his hair in retaliation.
Steve moans at the feeling.
“Please Stevie” You say, your hand slipping beneath his shirt now, clutching at his muscled back.
“Tell me what you want sweetheart” Steve breathes the words against your skin, peering up at you with hooded eyes. “Use those pretty little words”
Your lips part, ready to demand Steve to fuck the ever loving life out of you, but you don’t get the chance.
Because, your front door swings open.
Hinges groaning with the force, door slamming against the wall.
And Robin comes storming in.
“I need your help, desperately, like you don’t even know how much I need your help right now” She comes in like a whirl wind, talking a mile a minute.
She’s so busy trying to talk her way into the apartment that she doesn’t even know what she’s interrupted.
You and Steve freeze, his face is still pressed into your neck, one hard gripping tightly at your breast. Your hand is shoved up his shirt, the other is holding onto Steve’s hair like your life depended on it.
Not to mention, you were spread out on the couch, with Steve grinding down on you like there’s no tomorrow.
“I asked Vickie on a date, like a real life actual date and I have no idea what I’m doing, and I'm so freaking nervous…and you know what I'm like when I'm nervous, I can’t shut up” Robin is still talking at super human speed, pacing the floor of your living room, tugging harshly at the strands of her short hair.
You feel hot all over, and not in the way Steve was making you feel hot mere seconds ago, this was pure embarrassment.
Steve wasn’t doing much better, he refused to look at Robin, refused to look at you, his face was beat red, ready to explode.
“I need you guys to talk me down, cause right now, I’m ready to throw myself off a really tall bridge, well not a really, really tall bridge, just tall enough that I get like, a little hurt…not like kill myself worthy, you know?” Robin continues to talk, but for the first time since she barged into your apartment, she looked directly at you and Steve.
The position was compromising to say the least.
“Oh god!” Robin shouted, covering her eyes with her hands. “Gross guys, you have a bedroom specifically made for stuff like this”
“You kinda barged into our apartment, without warning” You mumbled, finally finding the courage to push Steve off you.
Steve went willingly, situating himself on the total opposite side of the couch, not touching you at all.
You rigidly sat up, smoothing down your shirt, but realized that your bra was on the floor. You kicked it under the couch and crossed your arms over your chest, trying to hide the fact that you currently weren’t wearing a bra.
Steve tugs his own shirt down, tugging at his jeans, trying to rearrange himself into a suitable position to hide the bulge in his jeans, but he settles for putting a cushion over his lap.
Completely mortified.
“But do you have to do it on the couch?” Robin whined, still covering her eyes. “We hang out on that couch”
“It’s our apartment” Steve’s voice is stilted, annoyed. “We can do it wherever we want”
You look at Steve, his face is still flushed, you can feel the embarrassment radiating off him. Your skin feels tingly, hot to the touch.
“You can uncover your eyes” You mumble quietly.
Robin peeks past a gap in her fingers, looking between you and Steve, when she deems that you guys are in fact decent, she removes her hands.
“I need help, you guys need to help me figure out what I’m gonna say” Robin says, she looks like she wants to situate herself on the couch between you, but she decides against it, with a wrinkle of her nose.
“How did you even get in?” Steve asks, ignoring Robin's pleas for help. “The door was locked”
“I have a key” Robin waves his concerns away.
“How do you have a key?” Steve asks, still confused.
“Dustin gave it to me”
“How does Dustin have a key?”
“He made one, dingus, can we get back to my problem now?”
Steve groans, throwing his head back against the couch, slouching down.
You sigh, butting yourself into their argument, knowing that if you don’t, they would be talking in circles for hours.
“You wanted help with your date with Vickie” You nodded at Robin.
“Yes,” Robin nods. “I need you guys to run fake date scenarios with me, so I know what to do, and what to say, so I don’t sound like a total dingus…like Steve”
“Hey!” Steve’s eyes snap open, glaring directly at Robin.
This was going to be a long afternoon.
TWO ― DUSTIN
Steve’s car hums softly as he drives back to your apartment.
He had taken you out to dinner. To a nice restaurant, five star dining, on his parents dime, because you both deserved it.
A long overdue date night, he had insisted, after what happened with Robin last week, you and Steve had been on edge.
But tonight, he was working the Harrington charm, trying to wiggle his way into your pants, and cementing himself into every crevice of your heart.
And he was thoroughly succeeding.
You turned your body to face him, Steve plants his hand firmly on your thigh, driving with one hand, occasionally peering at you, a wide smile on his lips.
You feel yourself smiling, warm and fuzzy feelings spreading across your chest.
“Tonight was nice” You murmured, not wanting to break the soft atmosphere in the car.
“Really nice” Steve agreed.
The roads were empty, driving past street lights and houses with their lights dimmed or completely off, it was just you and Steve out tonight.
It was nice.
And you were fighting the urge to jump Steve right here and now, if he wasn’t currently driving, it would be a game over.
Steve squeezes the meat of your thigh, long fingers digging into the flesh, palm warm against your already heated skin.
You place your hand on Steve’s, slowly trailing your fingers over each of his knuckles.
“I can’t wait to get you home” Steve hums, looking at you for a moment, before turning his attention back to the road.
You feel a burning in your stomach.
“Yeah?” You question. “What are you gonna do to me?”
Steve squeezes your thigh again.
“I’m gonna kiss the freaking crap out of you” Steve starts tame, but you know him too well, and by the smirk spreading across his lips, you know what’s coming.
“I’m gonna strip you down, and bury my head between your thighs until you’re shaking” That warm feeling in your stomach is tenfold now. “Then I’m gonna fuck you, slow and deep, because that’s what you need, isn’t it sweetheart?”
“Yeah, Stevie” You nod. “I want it, I want you”
Steve’s responding chuckle is deep, throaty. It sends a shiver down your spine, like a forewarning about what’s going to happen.
“I know you do,” Steve glances at you again. “I want you so much, you have no idea”
You slide Steve’s hand further up your thigh, pushing his fingers past the hem of your dress.
Steve’s breath hitches, but he says nothing.
So you continue to push his hand further up your thighs, the tips of his fingers brushing up against the soft cotton of your underwear, you let out a sigh at the feeling.
Steve moves his fingers on his own accord, slipping a single finger under the hem of your underwear, brushing up against your wet cunt.
“Oh, sweetheart” Steve groans, head tilting back slightly, eyes still trained on the road before him.
“Stevie” You whimpered, feeling the pad of his finger sweep up, catching right on your clit. Your hips bucked involuntarily, trying to entice him in further.
Steve gave you what you wanted, another finger slipped beneath the hem of your underwear, joining his first finger in brushing up against your most sensitive spot.
“You’re wet already” Steve murmured, as if he couldn’t quite believe it. “That’s all it take huh, dinner and a little dirty talk”
You whimpered as his fingers started drawing slow circles around your clit.
“Only for you” Your voice is airy.
Steve groans.
You guys are close to your apartment now, but you didn’t have it in you to wait much longer, and it seemed neither did Steve.
His fingers continue their slow circles, your hips move with his movements chasing your pleasure.
Steve pulls into your street, parking on the road right outside your apartment. He slides his fingers from inside your underwear, eliciting a whine from you.
You watch as Steve brings his fingers up to his lips, and sucks them completely clean, groaning around the appendages.
“Fuck, sweetheart” Steve looks at you with hooded eyes.
And suddenly, you're not in your chair anymore.
Your body moves without really telling your brain what it’s doing, wrapping your legs around Steve’s waist, gripping his shoulders with a rough grip, pressing your chest against his as you kiss him.
Steve’s hand rests on your waist, pulling your body down on his lap, there’s very little space for you to work with, but that just means you guys are pressed together, neither of you are complaining.
Steve’s tongue licks at the edge of your lip, you part your lips, letting him wedge his tongue into your mouth.
You moan against his lips, your hips press firmly down on his lap, nudging the forming tent in Steve’s slacks.
“Can’t even make it into the apartment” Steve shakes his head.
You are not really listening to him.
You trail your lips down his cheek, down his jaw, feeling the remnants of the stubble Steve’s let grow out, down, down, down his neck, pausing at the meeting point of his neck and his shoulder, you tug at his button up shirt, pulling the collar, but to no avail.
You reach up to un button the first two buttons of his shirt, exposing more of his skin, and the hair that decorates his broad chest.
Your lips continue their assault, kissing his warm skin, biting down softly on his shoulder.
“Shit” Steve’s head tilts back, allowing you the space to mark him up, however you want to.
Steve uses his hand to move your hips, gliding you across the smooth fabric of his slack, the glide is easy and the friction pleasurable.
“Touch me Stevie” You whisper.
Steve follows your command, slipping one of his hands beneath your dress, not bothering with your underwear, slipping right underneath the fabric, heading straight for the goods.
Before anything can really get underway, a loud knock slams against the passenger side window.
You jump in Steve’s lap, her head banging against the roof of Steve’s car. While Steve is trapped under your body, not that he’s complaining, but he whipped his hand out from under your dress, he uses his other hand to cup the back of your head, soothing the slight bump.
You both turn, looking through the slightly fogged up window, you see a figure standing outside the car, looking less than pleased.
You sighed, leaning back over and falling into the passenger seat, before winding the window down.
Dustin Henderson.
“Come on Henderson” Steve groans, head leaning against the head rest, eyes squeezed shut, as if it would make the boy disappear. “What the hell are you doing here?”
“Movie night” Dustin said sternly, holding a VHS in his hand, giving you both a pointed look. “But you guys were too busy feeling each other up, to notice me”
You felt heat licking up your spine.
If Steve felt embarrassed, he didn’t let it show, he looked more annoyed if anything.
“Dude, seriously!” Steve cried out, throwing his hands up in the air, exasperated.
“You promised!” Dustin accused, pointing a finger at Steve.
“We’re busy” Steve motions between the two of you. “Clearly”
“Yeah” Dustin spat, looking more disgusted than you’ve ever seen him. “I’ve seen more of you than I have ever wanted to”
“Then go home!” Steve shouts.
“It’s dark, you expect me to bike home in this shit!” Dustin shouts back.
You worry about the neighbours hearing you.
“Okay” You settle, sitting up in your seat, smoothing down the skirt of your dress. “Let’s take a beat guys”
“You biked here, you can sure as hell bike back!” Steve continues to shout around you, looking Dustin square in the eyes.
“You suck Harrington!” Dustin is pouting now, eyes narrowing in a menacing glare.
Dustin throws his hands up in the air, turning his back to the both of you, storming his way over to where he’s left his bike.
You sigh loudly.
Looking at Steve.
Who looks like he’s ready to start another fight.
On any other occasion, you would have enjoyed dragging him upstairs and getting his anger out in a way that made you both feel good, but you could really do that now.
Not when you would feel guilty.
Steve looks at you, and he starts to shake his head.
“No” Steve says firmly. “Not happening, he’s going home, and we’re gonna get back to where we were”
“We can’t let him do that” You deny. “It’s dark and it’s late”
You know your guilt tripping him.
But the moods been ruined, once again.
Steve sighs heavily.
He looks at Dustin through the windshield, who’s hovering around his bike, looking like he’s waiting for something.
“Stupid little shit” Steve mutters, admitting defeat.
“You love him, I know you do” You smile, leaning over to kiss him, once, twice, before pulling away.
Steve huffs.
“I love you” He corrects, slapping his palms against his thighs. “He’s lucky you care”
“Sure” You nod to appease him, but you both know that Steve really does care about Dustin, even when he’s driving him up the wall.
You and Steve hop out of the car.
“Don’t make me regret this” Steve mutters, you both walk up together, Steve’s arm is around your shoulders, yours is around his waist.
“Come on” Steve called out to Dustin, nodding at the front door.
Dustin is beaming now.
He throws his bike down, running up to the front door, talking about the movie in his hand.
You smile.
Steve huffs, placing a kiss on your forehead.
THREE ― NANCY + JONATHAN + ROBIN
Steve’s new job at the WSQK radio station, The Squawk, meant he was spending a lot of his free time there. Which, in turn, meant that you were spending a lot of your free time there.
It was a base camp for the crawls.
The trips to the upside down.
Looking for Vecna, under the guise of running a radio show.
It wasn’t all bad.
The building was pretty cool. There was a wall of shelves that went from floor to ceiling, records upon records sat on the shelves. Anything that you could think of, was hidden on those shelves, even the ones so obscure that not even Jonathan knew them.
And you liked watching Steve work the sound effects on Robin’s show, so focused on finding the right sounds, and playing them at just the right moment.
The way his brows would furrow, swinging back and forth between the machine and the pile of tapes with labeled sound effects. The way he would grab his cup of coffee, taking quick sips of the sludgy liquid, watching the way his throat boobed with the motion.
You were a wreck.
Steve drinking coffee was turning you on.
It was getting bad.
Steve wasn’t much better, which made you feel a little less bad.
Steve watched you from his post, stretched out across the couch, flipping through a pile of records as you spoke with Robin, soft flow of music playing through the air.
The show wasn’t supposed to start for another thirty minutes.
And just having you on the couch, was doing things to Steve, things he really shouldn’t be thinking about in the confines of the booth, his place of work.
“This one?” You asked, holding up a Cyndi Lauper record, to which Robin shook her head, nose scrunching.
“We played her songs way too much last week” Robin explained, flipping through another stack. “We need more variety”
You huffed.
Steve felt his heart clench.
“There, uh, there are some more records in the basement” Steve stumbled over his words, drawing your and Robin’s attention to him. “We could grab a couple of those, see if they’re any good”
“Yeah, I think I saw a Prince album down there last week, could be worth a look” You agreed, placing the record in your hand back on the stack.
“Sure” Robin shrugged.
“I’ll go down and have a look” Steve nodded, looking at you, giving you a slight quirk of his eyebrow. “Wanna help?”
“Okay” You nodded.
Robin shuffles her chair closer to the desk, sparing you both a strange look.
“Keep your hands to yourself down there dingus” She warns, pointing a finger in Steve’s direction. “This is a place of business, not your love nest”
“Why are you telling me!” Steve exclaimed. “Why don't you tell her that?” Steve pointed an accusatory finger at you.
“She has more self control than you” Robin replies, shrugging her shoulders.
“No she doesn’t” Steve denied.
Robin looks at Steve, deadpan and unbelieving.
Steve scoffs loudly.
You are so glad that Robin can’t hear your inner monologue right now, because she would have to turn her judgment onto you, because right now, you were ready to climb Steve like a freaking tree.
“Whatever” Steve rolls his eyes, opening the door to the booth, motioning you to go first.
You gladly make your escape, feeling heat spreading across your neck. Steve takes your hand in his, gripping it tightly, leading you to the secret door to the basement.
The basement was drafty, empty and completely quiet.
This was normally the place everyone met up to get ready for the next crawl, there were blueprints and town maps strewn across tables, colour coded texts and blocked maps, a projector was sitting in the middle of the room, awaiting use.
But the basement was also a holding place for all the older and underused records.
But you and Steve were clearly not here for that.
You pulled Steve to a halt, pushing his tall frame against the nearest wall, he’s surprised, but takes it in his stride, large hands gripping your hips, long fingers slipping under the hem of your shirt.
A shiver ghosts your spine, his fingers are cold against your warm skin. You lean in to kiss Steve. The kiss is frantic and quick, a little sloppy, the lack of intimacy making you and Steve loose control.
You pressed your hands against his chest, feeling his heart thudding beneath your palm. Steve bites your lip, harder than you think he was meant to, caught up in his excitement.
“Sorry” Steve breathed out.
“‘s fine” You murmur, using the lapels of his jacket to tug him back into you.
Steve grunts, going right back to kissing you.
His hand reached around, pressing deep into the back pocket of your jeans, palms cupping your backside in a harsh grasp.
“Steve” You whisper, back arching, pressing your chest against Steve's.
“I know” He breathes.
He pulls his hand from your pocket, wrapping his large hands around your thighs, lifting you with an astounding amount of ease.
You let out a soft giggle, wrapping your arms around his shoulder, digging your fingers into his soft hair.
Steve laughs, turning your bodies around, now he was pinning you against the wall.
Steve pauses a moment, taking you in.
“Hi” You smile, it’s soft and warm.
Steve feels a hot sensation building in the pit of his stomach, it spreads through his chest as you run your fingers through his hair, he really loved when you played with his hair.
“Hey sweetheart” Steve smiles back.
That smile has your heart fluttering, a tingle of warm zinging right through your body. Steve’s gaze is piercing, like he can truly see all of you, he wants to see all of you. His love for you bleeds through every glance, those warm honey brown eyes, a pool you’d love to swim in.
Steve kisses you again.
It’s a little slower now. A little warmer.
Steve holds your body, hands digging into the meat of your thigh, your back is up against the wall, cold cement chilling you through your top.
Your tongue slips past Steve’s lips, he groans loudly, lips parting, tongues brushing.
“Guys, Nancy and Jonathan are here, there’s gonna be a--Seriously!”
The door to the basement is slid open, Robin bounding her way down the stairs with Nancy and Jonathan coming in behind her.
Steve drops your thighs, your legs slam down very gracelessly, you wince as your boot clad feet smack against the concrete. Steve spares you a sorry glance.
“Again!” Robin exclaims, standing on the stairs, hands on her hips.
Nancy and Jonathan are struggling to muffle their laughter, taking in Steve’s flushed cheeks, and your down cast eyes, not feeling brave enough to lock eyes with Robin.
“I told you to keep your hands to yourself Steve!” Robin exclaimed, pointing an accusatory finger at him.
Steve scoffed.
“Yeah, well, I wasn’t the one who started this” Steve muttered, motioning between the two of you with a waggaling finger.
“Steve!” You cried, slapping his arm.
“Ow! Sorry!” He said, clutching his arm, looking at you with wide eyes.
“Okay, keep it in your pants you guys” Nancy joked goodnaturedly.
“The radio station, that’s what gets you going huh?” Jonathan snicked behind his hand.
“Shut up” You mutter.
“I can’t believe this” Robin is running her fingers through her hair. “I thought Steve was the menace in your relationship, turns out I was wrong”
You rolled your eyes.
“Can you blame me?” You say, but it’s quiet, and lacks the confidence your candance normally carries.
“Not in our place of work!” Robin chastised, like you and Steve were a pair of dogs she was training.
“All right,” Steve waved her off. “We get it, we can’t do it at the station, or in my car or in our own freaking apartment, just let us know where and when then”
Steve puts his hands on his hips, looking expectantly at Robin, whose cheeks are a soft shade of pink.
“Not the time or the place lover boy” Nancy cuts in.
“It’s crawl time” Jonathan finishes the statement. “So both of you, behave”
Maybe next time, you’d finally get it right.
FOUR ― THE PARTY
Steve buys tickets for the first movie on the list, not interested in watching anything in particular. You are waiting on the sidewalk, hands in the back pockets of your jeans, swaying from heel to toe.
Steve grins.
You are so goddamn pretty.
“Two tickets for the lovely lady” Steve muttered softly, coming up behind you, wrapping one arm around your waist, while the other hand waved two tickets in your face.
You giggle softly, taking your hands out of your pockets, wrapping one hand around his wrist with the tickets on hand, while the other rests against the large hand pressed against your stomach.
“What’re we watching?” You asked.
“No idea” Steve shrugs, though you can’t see it, you feel the motion against your back. “It’s a dark theater, away from everyone we know, I couldn’t care less what the movie actually is”
You laugh, turning your head, looking at Steve over your shoulder.
“Let’s go inside, before you jinx it”
“Why would I be the jinx here?” Steve asked, bewildered. “They come looking for you, not me”
You take Steve’s hand from your waist, winding his fingers around your own. You let his other hand go, turning on your heels, facing him. Using your now free hand, you press softly against his chest, nudging him to the movie theater.
“Can’t help it if I’m your better half” You sigh, like it was a tough job.
Steve scoffs, but there is a smile on his face, using your conjoined hands to swing his arm around your shoulder, holding you close to him. He presses a kiss to the crown of your head.
“Don’t I know it”
You and Steve enter your designated theater, the room was fairly empty, only a few people milling around the small room.
You and Steve take a seat in the very last row, right in the middle of the row. You nestle down in your seat, Steve’s arm still around your shoulders, as he sits in the seat beside you.
“It’s a rerun of some movie” Steve whispers in your ear. “They’ve been showing it for two weeks now, there’s no chance they’re gonna be here”
“What movie is it?” You ask, tilting your head.
“Who cares, are you actually gonna watch it?” Steve asks, tilting his head, mirroring your actions, making you smile. “While all this is sitting beside you”
Steve makes a sweeping motion with his hand, trailing from head to toe, as if him just sitting next to you, was temptation enough.
And right now, it was.
It was driving you crazy, just being this close to Steve.
Just having his arm around your shoulder was sending you into overdrive, the soft smell of his aftershave clinging to his sweater, feeling his warmth pressed to your side.
The interruptions to your alone time were seriously messing with your nervous system.
You and Steve have never gone this long without…well doing anything really, you didn’t have room to breathe around each other, before someone was knocking on your door, or walking into something they really shouldn’t have seen.
And, it seemed, it was affecting Steve just as much.
He was leaning into your personal space, more than usual, like he had to have a hand on you at all times, it was the most action he had seen in weeks.
“What movie?” You asked, playing dumb, leaning further into Steve.
And he grins like the cat who caught the mouse.
Steve unlaces your fingers, using the hand around your shoulders to press against the back of your head, tangling in the strands of hair, holding your head gently as he presses his lips against yours.
His lips are persistent, hungry, looking for the one thing he’s wanted.
You aren’t much better.
You meet his lips with just as much enthusiasm, pressing one hand against Steve’s thigh, using it as leverage to push your body closer to his, though the arm rest was digging into your stomach, you paid it no mind.
Steve groaned softly at the feel of your hand against his thigh.
“God” He mumbled against your lips, kissing between his slightly slurred words. “I feel like a horny teenager again”
Steve muffles your laugh with his lips, not giving you the space to part from him.
You and Steve kiss like this might be the very last kiss you’ll have.
You feel Steve’s teeth bite down on your lip, it’s harsh, and you wince a little, but the shiver that runs down your spine is a good distraction.
“Steve” You whimper softly.
Steve’s fingers, which are wrapped up in the strands of your hair, tighten, liking the sound of his name on your tongue.
He wanted to hear that and only that from your lips from now on, until the day he dies.
You guys really needed to fuck before you both combust.
Making out in a movie theater was not a new concept for you and Steve, you’d done it before, recreationally. It was always a little bit of daunting fun, doing something crass in public.
But now…
It was the last place you and Steve had thought of, because everywhere else had been invaded.
And you guys loved your friends, you really did, but right now, you hated them very much.
You just wanted to jump Steve’s bones.
Steve’s other hand had wound itself around your waist, his forearm digging into the arm rest, but that was the least of his concerns.
He was currently trying to find a way to super glue your body to his, in the most nonchalant way.
You use your other hand to grip Steve’s sweater, the fabric smooth and warm beneath your clenched fist, you want to yank him right out of his chair and on top of you.
And you might have just done that.
If you hadn’t heard a crowd of familiar voices.
“What the hell Harrington!”
Steve’s groan is immediate, annoyed right to his core.
He, very reluctantly, pulls away from your kiss. He looks over his shoulder, to see a very annoyed Dustin.
He had a rather large popcorn clutched in his arms, looking at Steve like he had betrayed him.
Behind Dustin stood Max and Lucas, who were enjoying the agony on Steve’s face way more than they should be. And next to them, Mike is smirking from ear to ear, El clutching his hand with a gentle smile. Will is standing beside Dustin, looking like he wished he was anywhere but here.
“Fucking Henderson” Steve muttered, hanging his head, pressing his face into your neck, as if that would get the teenagers to disappear.
You patted the back of his head, as Steve grumbled into the softness of your sweater.
“I tried calling you like a million times” Dustin continues on, not missing a beat. “You could have at least told us you were gonna be here tonight, we needed a ride”
“I didn’t tell you idiots on purpose” Steve muttered against your neck, his breath fanning across your skin, goosebumps rising in its wake.
“Mike’s mom had to take us” Dustin grumbled, making his way down the row, intent on berating Steve up close and personal. “Could have saved us the trouble”
You run your fingers through Steve’s hair, tugging softly at the strands of brown hair, making Steve’s breath hitch, the hand he had resting on your waist, tightens its grip.
“Dude” Max scoffs, she lingers somewhere behind Dustin, further down the row. “I don’t think they wanted your company”
“Shut up” Dustin mutters, throwing himself down in the seat beside Steve, spilling popcorn in his lap in the process.
“What are you guys even doing here?” Dustin asks. “You guys know this is a Star Wars rerun right”
“Oh my god” You whisper, feeling Steve tense, you stopped tugging at Steve’s hair.
“Yeah” Lucas's smug voice joins the ranks, leaning over in his seat. “What are you guys doing here?”
“Shut it, Sinclair” You mutter, tossing a mean look over at the boy, who sat back in his seat, snickering with Max beside him.
“I didn’t know you were a Star Wars fan Harrington” Mike chimes in, and you’ve never wanted to smack a bunch of kids before, but they were making it really difficult right now.
Steve pulls his head away from you, snapping in the direction of the six teenagers filling up the row, he scowls at each and every one of them.
“I’m gonna kick your ass Wheeler” Steve points a finger at Mike, who grins even wider, nudging El with his elbow, and she smiles at the way the vein on Steve’s forehead becomes more pronounced.
And Will, god bless his sweet soul, send you a very sorry look, his cheeks were a bright red.
You smiled gently at him.
At least one of the six of them was decent.
The light starts to dim around you, and the kids are nice enough (for now) to leave you and Steve alone.
“I can’t believe this is the movie you picked” You hissed the words between you and Steve, not willing to speak any louder, less one of the little gremlins heard you.
“I wasn’t paying attention” Steve whined, looking back at you with those soft brown eyes, the very ones you had trouble saying no to.
“The name Star Wars didn’t tip you off?” You questioned, tugging at his hair, a little harsher than you meant to.
Steve winced, cheeks flushing, flustered over being found and humiliated by the very people you had been avoiding.
“I’m sorry”
He looked kind of pitiful, and you really couldn’t stay mad at Steve. It did help that you were already annoyed that you guys had been found, once again, you and Steve were sharing this ruin.
You sigh, leaning over to smack a kiss on Steve’s cheek, loudly and over the top. Dustin looks over at the pair of you, mouth full of popcorn, and disgust clearly written on his face.
“Don’t worry about it” You shook it off, settling back in your seat, Steve followed you down, resting his head against your shoulder. “We’ll get it right eventually”
Steve sighed.
FIVE ― ALONE AT LAST
You and Steve were determined.
Robin was out with Vickie. Nancy and Jonathan were at the Wheeler house looking after Holly. Mike, Dustin, Lucas and Max were at the arcade.
You were finally, finally, alone.
And you were taking advantage of it.
You pulled your top off, throwing it somewhere around Steve’s bed, reaching back to unclasp your bra, sliding it down your arms, throwing it down with your shirt.
Steve follows suit, tugging off his thick brown sweater, kicking off his sneakers and un-buttoning his jeans, his checkered boxers peeking out of the waistband.
“Come here sweetheart” Steve motions you over.
You go willingly, slipping your hands around his waist, his skin flushed and hot. One hand lands at the back of your head, fingers buried between strands of your hair, the other hand is cupping your cheek, thumb caressing slow sweeps over your cheekbone.
“You gonna kiss me or what Harrington” You teased, all breathy and like, leaning into his hand.
Steve smirks.
He plants his lips on yours.
You breathe a sigh of relief, like he’s your lifeline on a sinking ship.
The kiss isn’t inherently desperate, but there’s an underlying feeling of need, wanting each other, needing to feel his skin on your skin, without barriers or interruptions.
Steve stumbles you both to the edge of his bed, lowering you both onto the plush mattress, feeling his cool covers gliding across your back.
You sigh against his lips.
Steve lets go of your hair, maneuvering his hand down to the waistband of your jeans, undoing the button with ease, sliding the zipper down, until his fingers are brushing over the smooth cotton of your underwear.
He doesn’t waste any time, slipping his fingers inside, rubbing circles directly on your clit. You were wet, turned on and ready.
Your back arches, inviting his fingers to slip in a little further. Steve takes the initiative, sliding his fingers down until they prodded at your entrance. You clench around nothing but the thought of Steve’s fingers, buried deep inside your pussy.
“Yes” You whisper, nodding your head, biting your lip.
Steve slips a single finger inside your pussy, feeling your wall clenching around the appendage.
“Like this?” Steve murmurs the words in your ear.
His finger slides out, you keen loudly, pleading for him. Steve grins, slipping his finger back in, repeating the motion, before slowly easing a second finger inside your wet heat.
“Just like that” It’s a breath sigh, words barely finding their way out of your lips.
Steve’s fingers work wondering, and to make a pleasurable situation better, his thumb reaches up to rub circles on your clit.
“Want to fuck you sweetheart” Steve’s voice reaches your ears, it’s low and grumbled, his hips rutting against your thigh, you can feel his hardened cock beneath his jeans. “You gonna let me fuck you?”
“Yes, yes” You nod so quickly, Steve wonders how you haven’t given yourself whiplash.
Steve pulls his fingers from your pussy, wiping them on the back of his jeans, before he reaches down to tug your jeans from your legs, leaving you in a pair of red cotton underwear, with a pretty white bow.
“So pretty” Steve sweeps his hair away from his eyes, brushing his knuckle over the damp spot on your underwear.
Your hips arched, pussy aching for his touch.
“Take your jeans off Stevie” You say, reaching a hand out to brush his jean clad thigh.
Steve shuddered, coming to stand at the end of the bed, shucking his jeans off his legs, kicking them away, standing only in his boxers.
“Those too” You pointed to his boxers.
Steve smirks, pulling his underwear down his legs, slowly, watching you watch him, enjoying your eyes on him.
Steve’s boxers fall around his ankles, his cock standing proud, tip a ruddy red colour, weeping slightly, standing tall against his stomach. His large hand comes around the base of his cock, jerking his hand up and down the length, slowly, torturing you.
“Please” You whimper.
Steve crawls his way up the bed, up your body, his cock brushes the length of your leg, until it settles right between your legs, the tip of his cock barely touching your center.
“You want my cock, don’t you sweetheart” Steve pressed his lips to your neck, lathering you in slow, open mouthed kisses.
“So much” You say.
Steve reaches between the two of you, grasping his cock once more, sliding this tip up and down your pussy, tip catching on your clit with every brush.
You moan loudly, hands grasping Steve’s broad shoulders. Steve shuddered at the feeling of your essence coating his cock, slipping through your folds with ease.
Steve lips his cock down, until the tip was nudging at your entrance. He pushed, gently, slowly and watched as the tip, just the tips, slipped easily into your wet heat.
“Fucking finally” He breathed out, feeling like he was finally where he should be.
“Oh” You gasp, as Steve pushes his cock further into your pussy, the stretch mouthwatering.
You’re warm and wet, practically gushing around Steve’s throbbing cock, clenching around him.
“So wet sweetheart. So tight” Steve groans, head bent, watching every inch of his cock slip inside your weeping pussy.
You know Steve’s cock is big, you’ve known it for as long as you guys have been together, but it feels bigger now, longer somehow. You peer down, seeing about half of Steve’s cock buried inside you, and you already feel full to the brim.
“Shit, Steve”
Your nails grind down into Steve’s smooth skin, crescent indents in their wake, but it only urges Steve on, the sharp pain eliciting a loud groan, pressing his head against your sternum.
His hips buck suddenly, pressing his length further inside your wet heat.
You shudder.
Steve moves his hips, until your pussy is flush against his pelvis, cock buried deep inside, throbbing against your clenching walls.
“So fucking deep” You breath, biting your lip, head thrown back, eyes fluttering closed.
“Pretty pussy sucking me in so good sweetheart” Steve hums, lips pushing hot air against your skin, his sweaty forehead sticking to your chest. “Wanna be buried in you, fucking forever”
Steve pulls his hips back, before snapping forward in one sharp thrust.
The sound of skin on skin, wet slapping sounds, your breathy whimpers and Steve's sharp groans reach every inch of the room, echoing in your ears, bouncing around your brain.
Steve places both his hands on your hips, sitting up on his knees, keeping his cock buried deep in your pussy. He spreads his knees, situating himself, giving him the perfect view of his cock inside sliding in and out of your wet heat.
His hips pick up their pace, pistoning back and forth, cock slipping in and out of your pussy, your wet heat fluttering at the new pace, gut clenching, mind shattering.
“Yes, Steve!” Your back arches further, barely touching the bed at this point, head burning into the soft cushions.
“That’s it sweetheart” Steve mumbles, words low and raspy. “Take it, take all of it”
Thwap. Thwap. Thwap.
The wet sounds have you clenching around Steve, who groans, throaty and deep.
His fingers are digging into the fat of your hips, leaving little indents, marking your skin for days to come, little finger shaped bruises.
Your hands are clenching, one grasping the soft sheets, while the other clenched around your tit, tugging at your pert nipple, twisting and pulling, pleasure shooting through you from head to toe.
“Want you to come” Steve huffs, sweat pearly on his skin, slipping down his focused face. “Want you to come on my cock sweetheart, you gonna give it to me?”
“Uh-huh” You agreed, nodded your head quickly, words seemed foreign on your lolling tongue.
Steve’s hip snapped up, his hands gripping your hips, raising you up until your hips were hovering off the bed and resting on the edge of Steve’s knees, snapping back and forth.
You were dripping, his cock shiny with your essence.
Your fingers tightened around the sheet.
Your eyes flutter open, looking up at Steve, lids droopy, lips parted, sharp breaths of air.
Steve looks in his element.
Brows furrowed, skin shimmering with sweat, biting down on his lips so harshly, you might have been worried about him bleeding. But you couldn’t quite think past the feeling of Steve’s cock throbbing inside your pussy.
“Stevie”
Your guts coil, your thighs start to shake, brain turning to absolute mush.
Steve keeps his pace steady, watching as the pleasure eats at your body, taking over every thought, every movement, every shudder and shake.
“I’m--I, shit, Steve--”
You clench around Steve, together than before, wall fluttering, juices squelching.
“That’s it sweetheart” Steve groans.
You feel like a wave of white washes over your vision, ringing bells in your ears, you feel like your stomach is on fire, your toes tingle and twitch, your thighs shake, heels digging into the mattress.
This orgasam is unlike any other you’ve had.
Your voice is loud, moaning out Steve’s name as you come. You can feel your pussy gushing around Steve’s cock, slick, wet, sloppy.
Steve groans.
It’s the first thing you hear, as your mind tries its best to ground you.
“So fucking pretty” Steve nods, letting your hips fall back onto the bed, pressing his body over yours, forehead resting against your temple, lips brushing your heated cheek.
You bite your lips, body jittery, riding out the pleasure.
“Gonna come inside you” Steve mumbles, you can barely hear him over the ringing in your ears, but you nod your head, lips pouted, whimpering softly. “Right inside this pretty pussy, my pretty pussy huh sweetheart”
Steve’s hips are losing momentum, his sharp thrusts have lost their stamina, his rhythm is off, titering on the edge.
Your hands press into Steve’s hair, holding him to your body.
Steve’s hips slow, until they come to a shuddering stop, burying his length deep in your pussy, legs quivering as he comes. His eyes are screwed shut, nose nudging your cheek, breaths coming out staggered, shaky and hot.
“Fuck” Steve whispered, the word hot on your skin.
Steve’s body is heavy against yours, his skin pressing against yours, there isn’t a part of you that isn’t touching him, you can feel his heart beat against your chest.
“We finally did it” You murmur softly, still trying to catch your breath.
Steve chuckles, sounding just as breathless.
“Took us a minute” Steve mused softly, voice shaky. “But we got there, and it was fucking worth it”
You sigh happily.
“But let’s not wait so long next time”
Steve agrees, burning his face in your neck. You kiss the crown of his head.
It took a while for you and Steve to find each other, alone, but it was certainly worth the wait.
Knock on wood, you won’t have to wait this long ever again.
Summary: After a foolish act of bravery nearly gets you killed, you and Steve have the argument of a lifetime. Unfortunately, (or maybe fortunately) your boyfriend happens to be ridiculously hot when he’s angry, and the line between fury and passion has a tendency to stretch very thin when it comes to the two of you.
Warnings: 18+ Minors DNI; Smut!, Unprotected p in v (wrap it before you tap it, friends), Angry sex, My hand slipped and Steve is dominant as fuck, Dirty talk, Please let me know if I forgot anything!!
Author's Note: We all knew this day would come, and now it’s finally here. In honor of Steve Harrington’s Canonically Huge Dick, I present to you my first full-on smut drabble. Special thanks to @flowersforbucky for proofreading! And as usual, please let me know what you think! If you guys like this, there’s a pretty big chance you can expect more like it in the future!!
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Steve Harrington, your boyfriend and the absolute love of your life, drives you fucking crazy.
He’s overprotective, bossy, always ready with a sarcastic comment, and so fucking cocky sometimes that you want to wring his gorgeous neck.
Perhaps luckily for both of you, you drive him crazy right back.
You’ve spent the last half hour or so shouting at each other. In his car. In his front yard. Through the halls of his empty house. And now in his bedroom, where he’s running a frustrated hand through his hair and pacing back and forth and still just as absolutely furious with you as he was since the fight began.
“What’s the point of a plan if you’re never going to stick to it?! What the fuck did you think was going to-“
“I didn’t think! I didn’t need to think! If I hadn’t gone in there, those fucking monsters would have-“
“They would have ripped you apart if I hadn’t gotten there in time!”
“But they didn’t.”
“But they would have!”
You swear you mean to leave. You mean to turn on your heel and storm out, to shake off the anger and stomp home and wait for the adrenaline and fury and…everything else to wear off on its own.
But Steve catches your wrist, and spins you back toward him, and his face is flushed and his jaw is clenched and his eyes are on fire and…well, he must be having a similar thought process about your current state, because suddenly his mouth is crushed to yours and his hands are moving up to tangle in your hair with a ferocity that steals the breath from your lungs. He backs you into the door of his bedroom, slamming you against it and caging you in with his body so hard that the impact might hurt if it weren’t for his hand catching the back of your head to shield you from the blow.
“You drive me insane.” He growls, low, as his furious hands tug your shirt over your head like the garment is the most offensive thing he’s ever seen. “Never fucking listen. Always talking back.”
“Take this off.” You tug at his own shirt, breathless and growing increasingly more desperate with each layer of clothing remaining between you.
“And bossy.” But he pulls his shirt over his head, ducking back down to bite at your neck hard enough to make your knees buckle.
“Oh, I’m the bossy one now-“ he cuts you off with another bite, hands sliding over your waist as he presses you tighter against the door until there doesn’t seem to be a millimeter of space left between you.
“Do you have any idea what could have happened if I hadn’t been there in time?” His words are dangerously quiet against your jaw, and you think he might be shaking. You pull back, catching his lips with your own as you begin to fumble with his belt. He responds faster than the crack of a whip, snatching your wrists with one hand and pinning them to the wall above your head without once breaking the kiss.
“Never sticking to the fucking plan.” He continues between demanding kisses, the fingers of his free hand working expertly at the button of your jeans. “Never. Fucking. Listen.”
“We didn’t have time to- oh God.” Your defense is cut off with a gasp as his hand dives beneath your waistband, and you hear his breath catch as his skilled fingers find just how desperate you are for him.
“Fuck-“ for just a moment, his composure breaks. You whimper, the sound leaving you before you can remember that you’re trying to sass him, and he crushes his lips to yours again as he begins to work you like a well-loved instrument. Despite his words, and the gravel still lacing his tone, his movements aren’t rough. He holds you still against the wall, completely in control, but his kiss is loving and his fingers are deft as they move in the exact way he knows will make you fall apart faster than you can think.
“Almost lost you, because you can’t stop throwing yourself into danger.” He murmurs, crooking his finger and adding a second in a single smooth movement that makes your toes curl.
“We didn’t have…t-time, fuck. Steve.”
“Still arguing with me.” He almost grumbles, but his voice is so raw and his fingers are speeding up inside of you and his thumb is working in small circles and you’re having trouble remembering to be pissy with him. That’s probably his fucking intention, but you definitely can’t complain right now. “You almost die, and two seconds later you’re arguing with me.” He pulls back, just far enough to let his nose bump against yours, eyes locked on your face like he’s trying to memorize every expression that crosses it.
He’s losing his grip on his anger, too. You can see the fury in his eyes replace itself with something like reverence as they look into yours, as he crooks his fingers again and swallows your gasp of helpless pleasure like it’s a drug. “Fuck, you’re beautiful. Hold onto me.”
He releases your wrists, and pulls his fingers back so quickly that you nearly sob from the sudden loss. Your arms move to lock around his broad shoulders before you can think, and his hands come down to the backs of your thighs so he can lift you against the wall and kiss you so hard and rough that you forget how to breathe right. His hips rock against yours, and when your nails dig into the warm skin of his back he groans low enough for the sound to vibrate through you.
“Want you.” You murmur, and he moans again as he pulls you back from the door and lowers you onto the bed, still so careful despite his anger.
Once again, your hands move down to tug at his belt, desperate for more of him, and once again, he bats them away.
“Not yet.” He murmurs into the hollow of your throat, trailing searing kisses over your collarbone as he crawls lower. Lower. You whine, arching your back in frustration as your fingers curl against his shoulders in a stubborn attempt to pull him back to you.
“Steve, just-“
He interrupts you with a sharp bite to your hip, hands already working to pull you out of your jeans.
“Do you really think,” his voice is even lower now, dark eyes still burning as he turns them up to you, “that after the shit you pulled tonight, you get to tell me how to fuck you?”
You do your best to glare, even as his words send molten heat through your already burning bloodstream. You can’t find it in yourself to answer, and his satisfied hum only makes you burn hotter. Cocky bastard.
“That’s what I thought.” He murmurs, thumbs hooking in the waistband of your underwear and pulling them down as you squirm with a desperation that makes frustration ignite in your core all over again.
He lifts your knee over his shoulder, ducking back down to drag his blunt teeth along the inside of your thigh, and you try so, so hard not to give in. To stay mad at him. To find the words to tell him that he was being overprotective and you had everything under control and just because you’re about to lose your mind with lust and need doesn’t mean you’re done yelling at him.
And then his mouth is on you, hot and skilled and overwhelming, and anything you might have said is cut off by a near-sob of pleasure.
“That’s it.” He murmurs, the words vibrating through you as your fingers tangle helplessly in his hair. “Lemme hear you.”
The way Steve Harrington can take you apart with his mouth should be studied by science. The way you see stars as he writes sonnets into your body with his tongue, the way his fingers join the machinations of his mouth to make you cry out so loudly you’re worried you might wake half the fucking neighborhood. Your thighs threaten to close around his head, and his hand moves up to push your knee back down onto the bed, moaning into you like he’s getting off on this just as much as you are and it’s so fucking hot you might die.
Your high approaches like a fucking freight train, barreling towards you almost alarmingly fast. It’s overwhelming to the point of near-pain, but Steve doesn’t stop. Not for a second. His hand leaves your thigh, sliding up your stomach and your ribs until you’re almost mindlessly clawing at the muscled bicep before you, desperate to anchor yourself to anything solid.
His hand catches your fingers instead, threading them through his own, and when you look down, his eyes are dark and starved and possessive and locked right the fuck onto yours, and you fall over the edge with a scream of his name.
When you come to, still struggling to catch your breath, it’s to your boyfriend climbing up your body like a panther poising to attack, lips brushing over any exposed skin he can reach like he’s trying to inhale you into his very lungs.
“So good. You did so good for me…” he murmurs as he reaches the hollow of your throat, and you can only raise a hand to comb your fingers weakly through his hair. Your grip tightens, however, when you feel his own fingers return to where they were aiding his tongue moments ago, making you gasp and squirm beneath him, still oversensitive.
“S-Steve.” You start, only to be cut off by another sharp gasp as he slips two digits inside of you without so much as a warning.
“Shoulda tied you to the fuckin’ headboard.” He growls, breath warm against the shell of your ear. The words make you arch beneath him, and it takes a lot more focus than you would like to admit for you to smirk.
“Still mad, huh?”
He catches the lobe of your ear between his teeth, and speeds up the movement of his hand until you’re writhing.
And once again, his fingers move and curl inside of you, relentlessly massaging your sweet spot until you’re shaking beneath him.
He kisses you, slow and hungry and deep, and whispers soft praise against your lips until he finally builds you slowly back up to the precipice. Works you open until you’re moaning and gasping shamelessly into his mouth.
Just as you’re about to combust, clinging to him like a lifeline, he pulls back.
“No no no-“ you gasp, mindlessly, and almost reach down between you before his hand flies up to catch yours, pressing it back against the sheets by your head.
“Shhh.” He coos, nuzzling into your cheek with a cocky smirk. “Not so quick to talk back now, are ya?”
“Asshole.” You wish you meant it. He laughs, kissing your cheek, and finally reaches down to tug his jeans over his hips.
He’s big. Almost too big. Even with all of the preparation, all of the time he took to work you open for him, the stretch makes you whimper as he pushes in, slow and careful and shaking with restraint.
“You can take it, baby.” He half-whispers, more than a little breathless himself, and squeezes your hand a little tighter as he tucks his face into the crook of your neck. “I’ve got you. My girl. So fucking tight. Made for me, yeah? You were fucking made for me…”
He kisses you again, groaning as he sinks all the way into you, and begins to move in a slow, steady rhythm. Like he’s savoring every thrust. Like he’s taking his sweet time making sure each movement hits the deepest, warmest parts of you.
“S-Steve.” His name leaves your lips in a desperate gasp, and the fingers of the hand not holding your own tighten behind your knee as he pulls it up a little higher around his hip.
“What is it, baby?” He asks, teasing and soft as you writhe beneath him. His lips glide over the line of your jaw, and his next thrust is just a little rougher. A little more intense. It sends a shot of pleasure through you, but it’s not enough. Not nearly. You whimper, the fingers of your free hand digging deep into his bicep as you try to match his movements with your own. Try to create just a little bit more friction.
He tsks at you, holding you still as he presses his lips to yours.
“Mm, always such a firecracker.” He purrs, another slow roll of his hips making you keen. “But you get so sweet like this, don’t you?”
“Steve.” You nearly sob his name now, and he still doesn’t pick up speed, but he does slide his tongue between your lips with a rock of his hips that has your eyes rolling into the back of your head.
“Shh,” he coos again , and you can see the restraint in his shoulders. See how difficult it is to keep his slow rhythm in the way sweat beads on his brow. “Be good, and I’ll give you what you want.”
“Y-you…ngh.” The insult dies on your tongue.
“I what?” He whispers, breath warm against your cheek. His hand tightens in yours, still teasing, and your toes curl as your head falls back against the pillows with frustration. More more more. You need more so badly you can’t think straight. You know he does too. You’re going to kill him. “You know what I wanna hear, sweetheart.”
He wants you to beg. You’re definitely gonna kill him.
“This is…you’re…” words are not your friend, it seems.
He thrusts a little harder, just once, and you whine. “C’mon, be sweet for me.”
“Please.” You nearly sob, and he grins as his free hand comes up to smooth over your hair. “Please, please please.”
“Good girl.” He purrs, and finally starts to speed up. Finally angles himself to hit that spot inside of you that has you moaning into his shoulder. “Was that so hard?”
“Steve.”
And even with the way his fingers tangle in your hair, tilting your head back so he can kiss you so roughly you wonder if your lips might bruise, and the way he snaps his hips so hard against yours you wonder if the headboard is going to dent the wall, his fingers are still tangled in yours by your head. His eyes are still locked on your own, and there’s so much love in his gaze that you think you might drown in it.
You’re drowning in him, and you never want to come up for air.
“I love you.” He whispers, hoarse and hungry and raw. “I love you so much. Doing so good for me. Fuck.” He kisses you again, and you can do nothing but sob out more pleas and broken forms of his name.
You feel like you’re on fire. It’s so good it hurts. You can’t think. You can’t speak. You wonder for a moment if he’s somehow broken your brain, mind almost too empty to even register the sweet words he’s whispering against your skin.
You try to tell him so. Try to express the intensity of what’s building inside of you. The words fail, and you just choke on a whimper of “S’ t-too…”
“I’ve got you.” He kisses your cheek. Your nose. Your lips. “I’ve got you. Let go for me. Wanna feel it.”
And you do. You’re too far gone to even scream anymore, biting down so hard on his shoulder that you’re positive it’s going to leave a bruise and clinging to him with everything you’ve got as your vision goes completely white for the second time tonight.
“So good... Fuck, fuck baby.” His breath is warm against your throat as you slowly fall back to earth. He follows you over the edge, pulling back to press his lips to yours in a surprisingly gentle kiss as he comes apart with a guttural moan of your name.
You’re boneless. Exhausted. Damp with sweat and still trying to remember how to form coherent thought.
Steve seems to be in the same boat, collapsing on top of you and taking a moment to catch his breath. His nose nuzzles into the skin beneath your jaw, hand releasing your leg to slide lovingly up over your waist.
“You okay?” He murmurs, and you can only nod, reaching up to wrap your arms around his shoulders with an exhausted hum.
“Still mad?” You ask, and he finally pulls back to look down at you again, fingers tracing over your still-flushed cheek.
“You can’t do that.” He says, soft and just a little rasped. “You can’t…you have to be more careful. I almost lost you.”
“Well, if that’s how you’re gonna show me that you’re mad-“
“I’m serious.” He turns your face towards him, and his eyes are soft. Vulnerable. The fire and fury from before is gone. “I almost lost you tonight. You almost…” his breath stutters a little, “I can’t lose you. Don’t you get that?”
His thumb smooths over your cheek, like he’s savoring the feeling of your skin, and you can’t blame your exhaustion for the way your heart melts.
“Okay.” You turn your face, kiss the skin of his palm. “Okay, I’m sorry.”
He nods, and leans down to kiss you, slow and sweet and soft.
And as he gathers you into his arms, lips barely leaving your skin for more than a second as he shifts to wiggle you both beneath the covers, you completely forget that you were ever upset with him in the first place. Something about him being overprotective. Or bossy. Or both.
You’ll try to remember that you’re mad in the morning. Or not. Or you’ll just hold him, and remind him how much you love him in the dim light of his bedroom, and wait until you can feel your legs again.
Steve Harrington, the love of your life, drives you absolutely fucking crazy.
I knew it was love
When I rode home crying
Thinking of you fucking other girls
You had always loved Steve Harrington. And Steve? Well, he was oblivious. But a near death experience in the Upside Down causes you to confess your feelings for him.
pairing: steve harrington x reader
words: 2.7k
contains: HEAVY angst, use of y/n, near death experience, talk of death, explicit language, suggestive language.
author's note: very VERY loosely based on dust bones by ethel cain. this fic is a little shorter as my others and I didn’t do a preview for it but the idea came to me after I saw vol 2 a few weeks ago and I finally got the urge to write it out of nowhere the other night 🤍 also happy harry styles is back day to those that celebrate
to be added to my taglist
You had heard about Steve and Emma Stevens through Robin.
She hadn’t meant to tell you, really. Robin just—she couldn’t keep her mouth shut. You had only asked her if she thought Steve would give you a lift home from the SQWK radio station—where you and Robin were currently prepping for tomorrow’s show.
“Probably not,” Robin says, her brows furrowed in concentration as she fiddles with a cassette. “Probably going to be knuckles deep in that Emma girl. You know what Steve’s like. They’re going on a second date so—”
She realises then—looking up at you with her eyes wide and apologetic.
“Fuck (y/n), I’m sorry—”
You blink. Try not to show how much that revelation had cut you open.
It wasn’t exactly a secret that you were in love with Steve Harrington. Robin knew, Dustin knew, Lucas knew, Joyce knew, Nancy knew, Jonathan knew—hell, Max probably knew and she was in a damn coma. The only person who didn’t know? Steve. The man was oblivious. Completely and utterly oblivious.
And so the reminder that Steve was fucking other girls on a weekly basis? Well, it hurt. Hurt a lot.
“It’s fine,” you lie as you pick up a few random tapes and pretend to consider them. You weren’t fine. You were trying not to cry.
Robin can tell she’s upset you and genuinely feels awful. The cassette tape in her hands clatters onto the table as she rushes to hug you. The telltales signs you were holding back tears were there—your eyes shining, bottom lip quivering and the way you went quiet.
You should be used to Steve’s casual dating by now. Should be used to the fact that he was fucking women who aren’t you. But honestly? You weren’t used to it at all.
And so, you rode home on your bike that night, crying as you tried not to imagine Steve and Emma—probably hooking up in the back of his beloved Beamer.
But now? Only three days later—Emma Stevens and Steve were the least of your worries.
The Upside Down always came knocking. Because of course it fucking did.
And this situation you found yourself in with none other than Steve himself—well, you were sure you weren’t going to make it out of this alive.
The room you were in—seemingly a boardroom of such in the upper floors of Hawkins Laboratory—was slowly but surely filling with a sludgy liquid that tried to keep you from moving.
You had no idea what was happening—you figured it had something to do with that energy shield (or whatever Dustin had theorised it was) you had just shot. But the guilt you’re feeling as you realise that you’ve condemned not only yourself but Steve to certain death—well, it’s all consuming.
“On the table,” Steve instructs, tugging on your hand so you follow—having to pull your legs up in order to move through the sludge.
Steve makes sure you go first—hoisting you up onto the table by your waist. You could have easily done it yourself but you took any and every opportunity—selfishly—for that man to touch you.
The table offered some reprieve—both of you free of that strange liquid that surrounded the table like an ominous ocean.
Steve looks at you—a look on his face you had seen only a few times before, one that plainly told you he was scared. “Wh-what do we do?” He asks you.
You look around the room, frantic—at the greyish liquid drawing ever closer—at the hole in the wall that had only made the situation worse as more and more sludge poured in—and finally, you look up at the gaping hole in the ceiling that was too high for either of you to reach and your only way of escape.
Steve is still looking at you—the way he’s always looked at you. Expectantly. Waiting to hear your plan. In the few years you had been falling into the Upside Down together, you always had a plan. Always one step ahead. But now—
“Help!” You yell out. “Help!”
And it’s that moment that Steve realises he was going to die. That if you didn’t see a way out of this? He knew there wasn’t one.
“Help!” He joins you, yelling in the hopes that Dustin, Nancy—hell, even Jonathan—would hear you. Though he knew, deep down, the trio were too many floors down to hear you both.
The two of you yell out, desperately. Trying your dammdest to live—to make it out of this alive. But as your voice cracks and Steve keeps yelling, you realise that no one was coming. That Dustin, Nancy and Jonathan couldn’t hear you. That you and Steve were going to die. Slowly, probably suffocating from the sludge. You thought about how painful it would be for that to fill your lungs.
“Steve—ju-just—stop,” you tell him, reaching out to tug his sleeve to get his attention. “They can’t hear us.”
Steve’s in denial. He shakes his head—fucking terrified—as he keeps on yelling anyway.
“Steve!” You yell at him, your voice breaking as the tears finally start to fall. “Stop. They’re not—they’re not coming.”
Steve looks at you—at your tears. At the look on your face and he knows you’re right. Knows there isn’t a way out of this. Knows that you both aren’t going to be saved. That your will to leave alone couldn’t save you.
“We—we gotta try (y/n),” he says finally and you feel your heart do that funny thing it always did around Steve because fuck, he had so much fight in him. Such a will to live and you feel awful that this was your fault. That you were the one to shot the giant ball of matter.
You just look at him and shake your head, tears already spilling down your cheeks. “I’m so sorry, Steve—I didn’t know that would happen—“
“Hey, hey, hey,” Steve says gently, leaning closer to you and placing a hand on your knee. “Don’t cry. Please. You didn’t know. It’s not your fault.”
“But it is—”
“It’s not,” he cuts across you. You know he’s just saying it to make you feel better. But the matter of the fact is, if you hadn’t shot that thing, you both would still be up on the roof. Not stuck in this room, waiting to die. But you didn’t want the last few minutes of your life to be spent arguing with Steve’s over whose fault it was. So, you just nod and wipe away your tears.
It’s quiet then. Just you, Steve and both of you quietly accepting your fate.
“Wish I could—you know, listen to like one more song before—” Steve cuts himself off as he swallows. Not looking at you. His hand still on your knee.
“What song?” You ask in a quiet voice.
Steve looks at you and—you see the tears in his eyes for the first time. After everything you two had been through together with every Upside Down ‘adventure’ (because was several near death experiences really an adventure?)—you hadn’t ever seen him cry. Until now. But you don’t comment on it. You just look at him, waiting for his response.
“Take On Me,” he says, the corners of his mouth twitching.
You can’t help it, you laugh—despite the situation you both were in. It was just…so quintessentially Steve that you couldn’t help it.
“Haven’t you listened to that song enough?” You ask him, because Steve couldn’t seem to go a day without listening to that song. Robin had even made it a rule at the station that he was only allowed to play it three times a week, after you had received multiple complaints from listeners who counted a whopping eighteen plays of the track in a single week.
“Nah,” Steve says with a shake of his head, sniffling a little, “I bet you’d pick Edge of Seventeen.”
You bite back a smile—looking over at Steve with tears still falling.
“It’s a good song,” you say simply. Steve squeezes your knee.
You look away from him and your eyes dart around at the room again. You feel Steve squeeze your knee again. Grounding.
“Hey, look at me,” Steve says gently and you feel his fingers gently graze your cheek as he turns your head to look at him. Not at the reminder of your unfortunate fate. “Focus on me—”
You could feel your heart hammering in your chest. The gentle reminder that you were alive. Alive. Alive.
You hadn’t ever given much thought to it. Your heart that beat to keep you alive. But feeling it racing against your chest like that? Like it was desperate for you to live—you were grateful for it. Hadn’t ever been so grateful to be alive as you were now.
“I don't want to die, Steve,” you burst out in a panic, tears spilling down your cheeks. “I don't—”
“Neither do I,” Steve admits in a quiet voice. His hand on your knee tightening as his honeyed brown eyes flicker to meet yours, his other hand coming down to rest on your shoulder. “But I’m here, yeah? You won’t be alone.”
Your bottom lip quivers and you nod as a small sob escapes you because you were going to die. You were going die with the man you loved. And he still didn’t know—
“I wanna go first,” your murmur quietly. “I don't want to live in a world where Steve Harrington doesn't exist.”
“Don't,” Steve breathes out, jaw tense. Eyes shining and shaking his head. “Don't say that—”
“—and I’m s-sorry that it’s now that I’m telling y-you but I can’t die without you knowing,” you stutter out through shuddering breaths.
Steve looks back at you, lips parted and hanging on your every word. Unsure if he wanted you to keep talking or stop.
“I love you, Steve,” you tell him finally—your face wet with tears. “I always h-have.”
The silence you’re greeted with is the loudest you had ever heard. Your heart still hammering against your chest. Desperate to keep you to alive as death came—the liquid creeping ever closer with every second.
“Fuck—” Steve finally says, the fingers on your shoulder twitching as he shifts closer to you. “I had—I had no idea. And I’ve been—fuck—I’ve been screwing around for months—”
“—it’s okay,” you interrupt him with a shake of your head. “Really, Steve. It’s fine—”
“No. It’s not fine,” Steve says firmly, jaw set and his eyes roaming your face like he was seeing it for the first time. “Because I—shit—I love you too and I—I should've—fuck—I should've asked you out. Should've just done it instead of fucking wasting time. Should have taken you out for milkshakes or some shit—”
“Milkshakes?” You repeat, smiling a little. It was bittersweet. Because he wasn’t running. Didn’t find the idea of you being in love with him repulsive. And he said he loved you too.
Steve lifts his head up and catches your smile and fuck, if he does die—he wants your smile to be the last thing he sees.
“Yeah. Milkshakes,” Steve breathes out, “and bowling.”
“I would have kicked your ass at bowling,” you say, smiling at him as tears continue to fall. “Maybe would have let you get to second base too.”
Steve laughs—despite fucking everything, he's laughing.
“Shit, (y/n),” Steve breathes out, his forehead resting against yours, breath fanning your face. “You can't say that shit to me right now.”
“And I would have destroyed you at bowling. Would have worn a new shirt, bought you the biggest damn milkshake,” Steve's voice falters slightly, going quiet as his eyes flicker up to yours. “Would have kissed you stupid after.”
You smile at each other and for a moment—it’s just you and Steve. No grey sludge that was your death sentence around you.
“Fuck—we screwed up here,” Steve says and you laugh as you cry and suddenly he’s laughing too. You shouldn’t be. You’re about to die. It’s not funny, not in the slightest. But this moment? It didn’t feel scary. Or like death was around the corner. You just felt safe.
“Think we have time for me to kiss you stupid?” Steve murmurs quietly, fingers brushing along your jaw before his gaze falls onto your lips.
“Yeah,” you whisper back, eyes meeting his. Feeling his breath hot against your skin. “There’s time.”
He doesn’t wait a second.
You let out a noise of surprise as Steve's lips descend onto yours. There's no gentleness. No hesitation. Just years of tension and unspoken words between the two of you as your hands find the front of his jacket and tug him closer. Needing him so desperately as you kiss him back.
He groans—fucking groans—against your lips, his tongue tracing the seam of your mouth and groaning again when you part your lips for him. His hands scramble to find your waist and he licks into your mouth and in his desperation, begins to press you back against the table.
Your hand shoots out to stop yourself from tumbling back too quickly from Steve's eagerness. But instead of the gooey liquid you're expecting to feel—you feel something solid.
There's a wet noise as you pull away from him. His lips chase after yours.
“S-Steve,” you gasp. “Lo-look—”
Steve’s confused—face flushed, eyes wide and lips still wet from your kiss. “What? Was it too much or—”
It’s then he sees the solidified grey sludge. It had set just beneath the table.
“Does this mean—”
You don’t wait—you lean over the table and place both your hands on the solid surface. It doesn’t crack. Doesn’t budge in the slightest. You start to stand, you needed to be sure—
“(y/n), be careful! It might—”
But you ignore him. You stand up on the solidified sludge and—it’s a solid as concrete.
Steve looks at you for a moment that felt like a lifetime. And then—
He scrambles to his feet—his arms wrapping around your waist as he lifts you half off the ground.
“We’re okay,” he breathes out as you sob in relief, his free hand cupping the back of your head like he needed to touch you. Needed the reminder that he was alive. That you were alive.
Alive. Alive. Alive.
“We’re okay,” he repeats, setting you down and cupping your face between his hands as he wipes away your tears. “We’re okay—fuck—we’re okay.”
You don’t even have time to breathe before he’s kissing you again.
Soft. Gentle. Like he had all the time in the world. And now, he supposed you did. Had time for that date. Had time for milkshakes, bowling and maybe even second base.
“M’gonna—” Steve mumbles against your lips as your hands fist the front of his jacket. “—kick your ass at bowling.”
“Shut up,” you murmur back before pulling away and smiling up at him like this was the beginning of something, “you’re gonna be a gentlemen and let me win.”
Steve scoffs, his hands moving back down to your waist and squeezing gently.
“Oh, absolutely not if you’re offering to go to second base—”
You whacked him on the arm, feeling elated as he laughed. He ducked his head down to kiss you again and—
The sound of banging from the wall behind you is what pulls you away from each other. Steve doesn’t think as he pulls you behind him. Protective. It was so Steve it made your heart do funny things in your chest.
The banging continues. The drywall cracks. Dust fills the air and—
“What the fuck happened in here?”
You had never been so glad to hear Jonathan Byers’ voice.
Through the hole in the wall—seemingly made by the fire extinguisher in Jonathan’s hand—you see Nancy, Jonathan and Dustin. Looking at you and Steve and how close you were standing. His hands on your waist.
“Are we interrupting something?” Nancy asks with a small smile. “Or do you guys want to get out of here?”
You and Steve look at each other, adrenaline pumping through the both of you—having been so close, so certain you were going to die that it's hard to even stand still.
"Yeah," Steve says finally, keeping his arm around you and pulling you close. “Let’s get out of here. We’ve got a date to go on.”
A/N: Based on "The Little Mermaid". Ty to @cinnxmxngxrl for the suggestion!
Warning: sorcery, mention of blood, body horror, language, unhappily ever after
Divider credit: @solitary-serendipity
There once was a curious little mermaid who longed to explore the world above the dark ocean floor. However, as the youngest of six, her father, the sea king, fiercely protected her. Whenever she asked to visit the surface, as her sisters had been allowed, he repeated the same objection. The human world was a dangerous place, ill suited for someone as innocent as she.
His insistence only made her more eager to learn the secrets of this fascinating world. Suddenly her sisters' tales of the golden light just beyond the kelp forest weren't enough to sustain her dreaming. She needed to see for herself and begged relentlessly until her father finally conceded.
Though conflicted about granting her wish, he hoped the journey would quench her thirst for knowledge. He comforted himself with the reminder that his older daughters had all obediently returned, vowing never to leave the underwater kingdom again. And so he convinced himself his youngest child would do the same.
On the appointed day, her father recited the rules that had protected his other children during their visits. "You may observe their world from the jagged rocks, but do not venture further. The shallow tidal pools will trap you as surely as the fishermen's hooks and nets," he began before segwaying to the general wickedness of humans.
As her father droned on about how they must be avoided at all cost, the impatient little mermaid swam back and forth. The anxious swish of her tail swirling sediment all around her.
Stamping his trident upon the sea floor, the king shot his daughter a stern look that instantly stilled her fins. "Have you been listening?" he demanded, holding her gaze with fierce determination.
"Of course, father, every word," she answered sweetly, green eyes sparkling back at him like bright gemstones.
It was this disarming look that always created a sentimental old fool of him. He would never have admitted it aloud, but his youngest daughter was his favorite and letting her go was even more difficult than he imagined.
Noticing a tear at the corner of her father's eye, she swam forward to embrace him. And with a loving peck to his cheek, thanked him for his blessing. "You're the best father anyone could ask for!" she whispered in his ear.
He only chuckled in reply as she darted away in girlish enthusiasm for adventure. And he smiled softly to himself as she disappeared from his sight, silently willing her to return unharmed.
For many weeks afterward, the sea king was blissfully ignorant of the infatuation born on that fateful day. He had not yet realized his daughter was stealing away to the surface daily for a glimpse of the handsome, bearded man she'd seen upon her first encounter into the human world.
With dark coat and heavy stride he came to the beach every evening before sunset to walk his dog and she listened intently as his deep voice rumbled forth to compete with the crashing waves. As he called to the animal, she wished it was her name upon his lips and despaired a little with each disappointing cry of, "Cryil!"
So infatuated was the little mermaid that in time, she could place him by his broad shouldered silhouette upon the sand as he took his nightly stroll. And in the fading light of the setting sun, she could almost picture herself beside him, his strong arm around her shoulder. He would regale her with amusing tales and their laughter would echo down into the depths of the sea. Only then would her father see how wrong he'd been about humans.
This fantasy is what compelled her to sneak away so often, desperate for even the slightest glimpse of the mysterious man she dreamed of making her own. He seemed lost and lonely in his world just as she did in hers. Perhaps together they could find happiness, she mused.
However, one day she saw that her love was not alone on the beach. While Cyril ran ahead to retrieve a stick from the water's edge, another man appeared at his side. He was much shorter in stature, a peaked cap pulled low over his eyes. They seemed to chat like brothers or old friends for some time and it was during this exchange she learned the name of her beloved, Alfie.
She said it over and over again to herself, a slight giggle on her lips as she repeated the odd sounding moniker. Lost in thought, she hadn't noticed the weapons raised between them until shots rang out in deafening succession. She stifled a scream behind her hands as Alfie was struck down, falling to the ground in a lifeless heap.
Disregarding her father's rules for the first time, she swam toward Alfie with speed she hadn't realized she was capable of. The instinct to go to him in his time of need overtook her and suddenly she forgot any danger lurking ashore.
Finding Alfie alone on the beach once more, she pulled herself from the safety of the water, landing next to him on the scorching sand. Far too concerned with his shattered cheekbone and ragged breathing to care anything for her own comfort. She endured the blistering heat at her back as she knelt over him, whispering his name like a prayer.
Pressing her palm to his unblemished cheek, her fingertips wandered the slope of his jaw. Lightly carding his dark beard, she cooed at the hint of ginger beneath, fascinated by the detail she'd never seen from the distant rocks. The feeling of his flesh beneath her hand was intoxicating, even more so when she was rewarded with a few short grunts.
Brimming with hope for his survival, she began to hum a gentle lullaby and her voice rose steadily when she noticed his eyelids flutter. She couldn't be sure he heard her, but she comforted him nonetheless until a chorus of voices sounded in the distance. Scrambling back to the water, she hid herself in a cresting wave just as the first rescuer approached.
I don't want this to be the last time, she thought, allowing herself one backward glance. Alfie was already being carried away from her, perhaps never to return. The notion was far too painful to dwell on when it first entered her mind. However, as weeks turned to months, the little mermaid grew despondent over the love affair that would never be.
The painful longing unbearable, she eventually called upon the only one who could offer solutions to the troubled. Though the little mermaid knew the venture was ill advised, she couldn't stop herself from seeking out the sea witch.
Terrified, but determined, the little mermaid swam through the inky abyss until she arrived at a castle made of ivory bone. Like a beacon in the darkness, it promised salvation inside. But first, she would have to cross a graveyard of polyps said to contain the souls of the sea witch's victims. It took all her courage to race past their spindly grasp, blocking her ears to shut out the low moaning, but somehow she came to the other side.
Body trembling slightly from the adrenaline coursing through her, she raised a fist to knock. The rattling echo reverberated through her even as the door swung open to reveal a shriveled old hag and she froze in abject fear.
"What is it you seek, my child?" the sorceress asked, her pet water snakes encircling the girl to prevent escape.
With more than a slight tremor to her voice, the little mermaid confided her secret, hoping the witch could offer some remedy to the deep longing in her heart.
"I want...human legs," the girl answered with a harsh gulp.
"That is a bold request," the sea witch croaked as she drew the little mermaid further into her lair.
"I can pay, I have gold," the girl offered, producing a sack of heavy coins.
However, the sea witch only laughed at the child. "It will take far more than that," she cackled. "For what you desire is not legs, but a human soul."
The little mermaid ceased all movement, feeling herself sink into the murky depths as she realized what she was truly asking. However, she was a tenacious thing, ready to pay whatever price the sea witch demanded if she could deliver what was promised. Bright green eyes flicking to the hag's craggy face, she ventured, "Can you help me?"
The sea witch took her time as though pondering the question for the first time. The eery silence hung between them like the bloated polyps outside her door which now began to weep softly in protest. The sea witch swiftly drew the mermaid's attention back with another sharp cackle. "So eager, are we?"
"I'll do anything," the little mermaid replied with such earnestness, the sorceress snorted at the girl's naïveté.
Beckoning her pets to bring her a small bottle, the sea witch snatched it up and held the colored glass to the light. It shimmered beneath the undulating waters, casting a glow over the little mermaid which left her in silent awe.
"To win your human love, you must become one yourself, that much is true. Drink this and you will be altered as you have wished," she explained.
Utterly entranced, the impetuous young mermaid blurted, "Legs? Oh, thank you!" Her nimble fingers shot out for the bottle just as the sea witch held it out of reach.
"But I warn you that every step you take will be more excruciating than the last as a reminder of what you've left behind," she explained. "And in return for this agony, you must still make payment to me."
"Yes, of course. What is it you want?" the little mermaid asked breathlessly, seeming to discount the dire warning of imminent suffering.
"Your voice," the hag answered nonchalantly, shrugging as though it were merely a trifle.
The little mermaid stopped to think for the first time since her arrival. Without her voice, how would Alfie recognize her as the one who had saved him? She would never be able to tell him of the times she watched him from the jagged rocks or how she came to sing softly to him on the beach that day.
As she weighed the decision, the sea witch twirled the vial in her shriveled tentacle and the enchanting light found its way to the mermaid's gaze once again. All doubts now silenced by the promise of her reunion with Alfie, the little mermaid agreed.
The glint of a steel blade and the sea witch's cackle was the last thing the little mermaid remembered before waking on the shore. She blinked against the brightness of the sun overhead, barely registering the blood tinged water or the dull ache in her mouth.
In fact, all was forgotten as the waves receded to reveal legs in place of a tail fin. Heart thundering in anticipation, she pushed herself up from the surf and gasped in horror as her foot sunk into the sand. It was exactly as the sea witch had foretold, an excruciating pain shooting from the tips of her toes to her hip.
It took the better part of the afternoon to make her way inland, sometimes crawling upon the deserted beach to find shelter. When her resolve weakened, she would pray for Alfie to appear and rescue her before she surely perished.
Sometime later, as the clouds closed in overhead, she heard a familiar voice cry out, "Cyril!" For a moment she wondered if her delirious mind was hearing phantom voices on the wind, but then she saw a pair of boots trodding toward her with an unmistakable gait.
As Alfie approached, he couldn't help but take notice of her nakedness. Tilting his head to study her like some specimen under glass, he asked, "And who might you be, treacle?"
Forgetting the price she paid to the sea witch, the girl tried to tell him her name. However, there was nothing to show for the effort, except a thick trickle of blood running from the corners of her mouth. She swiped at it desperately, but the attempt only left a garish, crimson streak across her cheek. Wincing in pain and embarrassment, she tilted her chin up at him meekly.
"Got yourself a Glasgow smile," he remarked, as he came to stand over her. "Go on, tell us your story, little bird," he prodded, draping his coat over her.
The offer was met with silence and Alfie began to wonder if she understood English. He tried Italian and French next, even Yiddish, but she only stared back at him numbly. He had not yet considered his shocking appearance.
With his hulking form blocking out the light, she had an unobstructed view of the damaged side of his face. She inhaled sharply at the web of scars that criss crossed his cheek, pointing toward a milky white pupil which contrasted sharply with the hawklike focus of his good eye.
Noticing the way her eyes widened, Alfie finally understood. Stroking a ringed hand down his face, he explained, "Battle scars, innit? Don't let it give you the willies."
Eased by his remark, she found him no less attractive to her and she no less wanting of his affection. She extended a hand from beneath the thick wool of his coat, eager to feel his touch.
Pleased to see they were getting somewhere, Alfie's large hands closed over her delicate fingers to bring her to her feet. Briefly locking eyes with the girl, his brow furrowed at the striking shade of green. He'd seen them somewhere before. A whisper of a tune floated inside his head, but there was no time to reflect on it. The girl instantly crumpled beneath him and he rushed to catch her in his arms.
Blood smeared mouth opening in a guttural scream of pain, the girl inadvertently revealed why she didn't talk. Someone had cut out her tongue. "Ah, the little bird can't sing," he muttered to himself as a tear rolled down her cheek in sorrowful acknowledgement.
Alfie shook his head slowly, thoughts of which gang might be responsible. He knew several that silenced rats by taking their tongues, but he'd never seen it happen to a woman. He took a moment to decide if she was worth the trouble if it came to that.
A single glance at her angelic face, contorted in pain, erased all doubt that he should take pity on her. He scooped her up and carried her to the safety of his seaside hideaway, Lethe. After all, a dead man couldn't harbor anyone.
Alfie's hunch had been correct. No one came looking for the girl in over a month. It was around this time, he began to breathe a sigh of relief that those pursuing her were far away and so the walls he'd put up to protect himself came crumbling down.
He invited his little bird, as he'd taken to calling her, to his study in the evenings to listen to opera recordings on his gramophone. In addition, Alfie provided translation, along with long winded explanations of the plot. If the girl objected, she didn't let on. Her brilliant eyes shone with interest, hanging on every word.
On the occasions his sciatic nerve allowed it, Alfie even danced with the beautiful girl who proved to be the most exquisite dancer he'd ever encountered. The abnormally long baths she required as part of her therapy were doing her good, he thought.
He did not see the price she paid at the end of those evenings, shoes soaked in blood. She'd learned to live with the terrible curse of her swollen and sore feet, hiding her pain in hopes of glimpsing a rare smile from Alfie.
On one such evening, just as Alfie chose the Turandot by Giacomo Puccini, they were interrupted by the housekeeper, Elsa.
"It's Mr. Shelby, sir," the older woman rasped, unaccustomed to announcing visitors.
Hand hovering over the needle, Alfie blinked slowly as he uttered, "Tommy?" It was less of a question and more of a remembrance of something dug from the depths of him, a tumor cut out long ago and promised never to return.
"What the fuck does he want?" Alfie growled with obvious agitation, the likes of which the girl had never seen.
Nor had Elsa who could only shrug in reply. "He didn't say, sir. He only told me to tell you a storm is coming."
Alfie's face looked as though he'd smelled something putrid, Elsa more confused than ever.
"There's no chance of a storm tonight. The sunset was a lovely shade. And you know the old adage, red sky at night, sailor's delight, so I don't see how..." she began before Alfie silenced her with a fearful roar.
"Shut your bloody mouth, woman!" he growled, tossing a crystal ashtray against the wall for emphasis.
Elsa shrieked, ducking the flying object. And yet still had the presence of mind to ask, "What shall I tell him?" Though her voice quivered slightly, she knew she still had a duty to perform.
Exhaling a heavy sigh, Alfie conceded, "Show him in. Think I have a bloody choice do ya?"
Moments later Tommy Shelby, king of Birmingham, was before them. The girl knew nothing of his position in their world, but she did recognize him as the person who shot Alfie. The memory of that day revisited her, causing her entire body to tremble with fear. She shrunk from both men, plastering herself to the sofa so as not to be seen.
The men continued their business, Tommy pressuring Alfie to provide Jewish soldiers to him by threatening to tell others where Alfie was hiding. The girl wanted to cry out at the injustice, but could do no such thing. Alfie wouldn't have wanted her to anyway.
Safely confined in the shadows of the sitting room, Alfie was careful not to give her away. However, Tommy's keen eye spotted her bright eyes shining in the corner. "Who is your lovely companion, Alfie?" he asked, the smoke from his cigarette briefly obscuring his piercing gaze.
"You want to steal her away do you?" Alfie challenged, his protective nature on full display.
"No, I just thought you'd like to know who gave you up," Tommy replied, standing to brush the dust off his coat. "That girl is the reason your cancer continues to eat at you instead of resting peacefully in your grave the way you wanted."
Alfie gritted his teeth at Tommy's obvious provocation, "What are you talking about, mate?"
Lacking an ashtray, Tommy extinguished his cigarette beneath the heel of his expensive leather shoes, sighing deeply. "Why are asking me, eh? Why don't you have a chat with your girl," he smiled smugly before leaving them in stunned silence.
The air was charged with electricity, suspicion lingering in the room. It was only amplified by the static of the skipping record which had come to an end.
Alfie quietly stood to remedy the problem, raising the needle from the record and bathing the room in silence once more. He paced quietly for a time, making the girl believe he'd forgotten the accusation leveraged against her. That is, until his temper caught up to him.
Then he raged, throwing things and cursing with such ferocity, she began to shake. When he descended upon her, she wasn't prepared for the onslaught of his fury. "Is it true?" he demanded, watching her face carefully.
When her emerald eyes shone back at him with glistening tears it only seemed to enrage him more. "Don't do that!" he warned, pointing a finger at her. "Don't play the innocent now that you're caught! Who are you?" he demanded.
Her limitations holding her back from answering, Alfie continued, shaking her shoulders violently as he shouted, "Was it you that day on the beach? I knew I recognized those green eyes! Don't fucking lie to me, girl!"
Choking back a sob, she nodded, eyes pleading for mercy for she had only ever wanted him to love her.
Alfie sniffed, tossing her aside like an unwanted thing he could no longer use.
She could bear his bad moods, the cursing, all of it...but not this. Not his hatred. Hanging her head in shame, she cried into her skirts.
"Do you know what you've done?" Alfie demanded, slamming his fist upon a nearby table and nearly shattering it. "You turned my life to nothing but pain and misery, you wretched creature! And for that, I will never forgive you!"
The girl only sobbed harder as she fled the room, uncertain of where she should go.
As it turned out, there was no place for her other than Margate. She'd only known Alfie's kindness and without it, she feared she would starve. So she tried to coexist with him for a time, if only to see if forgiveness was possible.
It would not be the case. Something inside him rotted that day, turning his instincts rancid with cruelty.
Like Hades trapping Persephone beneath the shadowy realm of the underworld, Alfie caged his little bird. And though she tried to abide in her love for him, it was no use. His mind was bent on revenge.
In one such mood, he lured her to the docks to reveal his latest catch. And there upon his hook was a mermaid.
"You steal from me, I steal from you, my little bird....or should I say, my little fish," Alfie hissed. "Say goodbye to your sister."
She shook your head in disbelief that he'd learned the truth, this couldn't be one of her siblings.
You're lying, she wanted to scream, but nothing more than a choked sob escaped her lips as she broke free of his grip.
"I'll give you a minute to say goodbye," Alfie offered mockingly.
She stood at the edge of the water, the incoming tide washing an effervescent bright white froth ashore beside her and she wept. For when a mermaid dies, they turn to sea foam. It was a crushing realization that Alfie was telling the truth.
In a trance, she returned to Lethe, wishing she could forget all that had come before. But she wasn't granted that pardon.
"If you ever try to escape these bonds, I swear you'll see every member of your family strung out on the docks," Alfie warned.
She knew he'd do it, killing meant nothing to him now. And so they soldiered on together, unhappily ever after.
So. I wrote this story over a year ago now. In the meantime, I had some ideas that took place before this important moment in Alfie and his wife's lives, so publication was postponed until today.
It's very long, I know. For once, I'm going to cut it. I hope you like it because I'm quite proud and happy with this. And we're of course not done yet with the couple, far from it.
It was normal for a young married couple to talk about children. Yet, Y/N and Alfie had waited several months before bringing up the subject, mainly because the gossipy women of Camden and some employees at the Bakery had asked them if they were planning on having children soon.
To be honest, they had mostly asked Y/N, too scared to approach Mr. Solomons, if it was a sensitive topic.
It didn't feel like any pressure to her. It had taken some time, but she had eventually stopped caring about other people's opinions, especially not about something so important.
But she wondered what Alfie's opinion was. For her part, she wasn't against having children. The Shelbys were a special family, dysfunctional, but very close-knit. Full of love, even if her brothers sometimes had rather strange ways of showing it. Polly had raised her like a loving mother, Arthur, Tommy and John had been like fathers to her during difficult times, so she wondered if she might be able to take care of a child.
It was much the same for her husband. He had a great deal of respect and adoration for his parents, especially his mother. He looked after his nephew, even though he could be strict with the young giant.
There was also his way of being with Cyril. He might say repeatedly that he didn't care about that big, drooling baby, Alfie adored his dog. The rare times the little fellow misbehaved, he was punished for 10 minutes before his master picked him up and told him he was a good boy. It was understandable that the dog was completely lost, not knowing what was right or wrong.
This would probably be Alfie's only flaw as a father: he would be incapable of refusing his children anything, for fear they would hate him or be afraid of him. Fortunately, Y/N didn't have such scruples, while remaining calm, moderate, and non-violent.
Thus, she would take care of Cyril, Ollie, her brothers, or her husband when it came to reprimanding someone or discussing things that might upset or make them uncomfortable.
Clearly, the subject of children was one of these things, because when she asked him the infamous question while he was having dinner, Alfie froze, his fork wedged between the plate and his wide-open mouth, his eyes staring at her.
"You want children ?" she repeated, carefully enunciating each word.
"… You're pregnant ?"
"No. Well, I don't think so. But would it be a problem if I were ?"
"There's no rush, treacle. Don't scare an old fellow like that, I might have a heart attack. You'd make a very pretty widow though, and your brothers would be thrilled. They'd come and dance on my grave."
Y/N knew her husband well by now. She knew he talked a lot, telling ridiculous stories when he was nervous, but that he tried to hide it by diverting attention with jokes or sentences that made no sense.
So, to get him to finish eating without getting too agitated, she didn't press him, asking how his day had been so he could think about something else.
He didn't bring it up again, not even asking if she wanted children, and the matter was closed. But if he had dared to ask, Alfie could have been reassured. Because even if she wasn't against it, she wasn't dying to, nor did she feel at all obligated. If they lived together with Cyril, that would be just as perfect.
And if she felt the need to see children, she only had to visit her brothers to see her adorable nephews and nieces.
They adored her, and they adored Alfie too. It had been complicated bringing him along the first few times, because the Shelbys were very protective and had been wary of her husband, not always able to predict what he would do or say.
As if he completely agreed with them, Solomons had tried to find a way out, saying that he wouldn't be a good example for Thomas's offspring, who were probably already having a lot of trouble because of their father. He didn't want to make things worse.
In front of the little ones, he was almost as paralyzed with fear as he was in front of horses. He, the Wandering Jew, the King of Candem, war hero, gang leader, was afraid of toddlers.
Then he relaxed a bit after the little girl approached timidly, taking his hand and asking him to play with her, saying he had a funny beard.
They often asked for Uncle Alfred after that, the super uncle who told stories as funny as they were incomprehensible and who lifted them into the air despite his back problems. The favorite uncle. Just one more reason for Arthur to hate him.
But being good with other people's children didn't mean they had to have any of their own.
If Alfie didn't want it at all, then Y/N would respect that.
Unfortunately, she couldn't control nature, or her body. The only way to prevent her pregnancy would have been for them to abstain, which seemed impossible for Alfie, or for him to cut off other parts of his anatomy, rendering him sterile, but he would probably have hated that idea just as much.
At first, she simply thought she had eaten something rotten. Even though he was a good cook, Alfie wasn't responsible for the quality of all the food he bought. She could also have caught a virus.
In any case, aside from a little vomiting and fatigue, Y/N didn't have a fever. Nothing to indicate that her condition was serious.
So she didn't tell anyone, waiting for things to resolve themselves. But a month passed and she was still vomiting, so she went to the doctor's office while Alfie was busy at the Bakery. There was no need to worry him unnecessarily.
With a broad smile, the doctor congratulated her, certain that his announcement would be taken as good news, since she wasn't sick at all.
"You're pregnant, Mrs. Solomons."
"… Are you sure ?"
"You have all the symptoms. I think you're between two and three months along. It's not showing yet. Come back in a few weeks to check for any complications. Get plenty of rest, eat well, and drink lots of water."
"… This is a disaster." she murmured, getting up without listening to the rest of the advice, under the bewildered gaze of the doctor, who didn't understand her reaction.
As always when she had a problem, Y/N's first instinct was to try to solve it herself. A strong, intelligent, independent woman, she locked herself in the study to think calmly.
But she found nothing, and in any case, the moment didn't last long, as her husband came home early and joined her immediately, kneeling beside her.
"Tell me what's going on."
"I don't understand what you're referring to."
"Ollie told me you went to see the doctor."
"Are you telling me your men are following me, Alfie ?"
"I'm saying I love you, treacle, and that I'd rather not take any risks. Why did you go to the doctor ?"
"Stomach ache, fatigue, nothing serious. According to him, I just need rest."
"… You promise ?" he asked, narrowing his eyes. Alfie always sensed when someone lied to him, and he hated it. He also knew when his wife was upset.
"I'm not dying." Y/N promised, kissing his forehead. He accepted this answer.
So she turned to her second option: seeking advice from her family. Not all of her family, only the most sensible and discreet members, Tommy and Polly. Contrary to what she thought, Thomas was very happy for her. He hugged her tenderly, moved, wishing her all the happiness in the world and much patience with the father-to-be.
He couldn't help but laugh when she whispered that Alfie didn't know yet.
"Who's scared ? Him or you ?"
"Mainly him. I'm afraid it's too much for the poor man."
"Oh, don't underestimate your husband. I thought you'd be too much for him. But if you're right, you have enough courage for two, he'll follow you to the ends of the earth."
Although happy to learn she would be a grandmother again, Polly understood perfectly why her niece had come. Without a word, without judgment, she gave her a small bottle, with a scent far more pleasant than its effect.
Many women came to her for this concoction during the first few weeks.
"Talk to him first." she whispered in her ear before she spoke. "When the husband isn't too stupid, it's best to talk things through, otherwise you'll regret it."
Y/N hesitated. She had already spoken to Alfie, she already knew how he would react. But the Shelby matriarch was wise, so she followed her advice.
This time, she chose a neutral, quiet place where he wouldn't feel cornered like a trapped animal. In his office at the Bakery, she waited until Ollie had left and finished counting the last few pennies.
"You remember when I told you I wasn't sick."
"Ah. I knew it, love…" he sighed, taking off his glasses. "I knew there was bad news. It's sweet of you to have wanted to spare me, but we're married. For better or for worse, in sickness and in health. I'm here for you. Tell me what it is, what you need. I'll pay for all the treatment, I'll find the best doctors, I'll…"
"I'm pregnant."
His surprised, stupid look returned then, as he stared at her as if she'd just told him he'd been elected President of the United States or that the earth was flat. Then he looked down at her belly, where their child was growing, before slowly getting to his feet, still without a word, leaving the office like a sleepwalker, not reacting when Ollie spoke to him.
One of the Shelby family's flaws was their impulsiveness. An inheritance from their father. Arthur was undoubtedly the most eager, but they all had the bad habit of letting their emotions guide their actions during important moments in their private lives.
Y/N remained in the office, her fingers playing with the bottle's stopper, contemplating the possibility of drinking its contents immediately and thus ending her husband's suffering. She could go home and tell him he no longer had any reason to panic.
But she could still feel her brother's embrace, she imagined that child, and she couldn't do it. Not alone. Thomas was right, in both ways. They were giving each other courage. If Alfie were there, she could go through with it, knowing it was the right decision.
The plan was to wait for him at home, giving him time to regain what little sanity he had left, so he could have a real conversation.
It was a surprise to hear the crashing sounds upstairs. Had Alfie truly lost his mind, to the point of destroying their house ? Y/N hadn't thought he'd be this disturbed.
She found him in his office, demolishing the wall that separated the room from the small guest bedroom. Covered in dust, exhausted, his back clearly aching, he was so focused on his work that he hadn't heard her come in. At least, he gave the impression of not having seen her, until he stopped to take a sip of his tea.
"Treacle, this is very bad."
"I know. I'm sorry. I can…"
"The house is much too small. Even if I manage to tear down this damned wall, there won't be enough room. We need a bed, toys, all that stuff for children. And a garden. And another dog. And all these stairs… I hadn't realized there were so many steps. You'll ruin your back when you're ready to give birth. We have enough of a handicapped fucker already. We'll have to carry the baby up and down them, and what if we drop it ? No, that's just not going to work."
"Alfie… You want this child ?"
He finally turned to her, still with that lost, childlike look, but he was much calmer than before. He didn't seem to understand her question. The tears she had been holding back for days flowed as he kissed her and caressed her face, her shoulders, her stomach with all the affection he felt for her.
Of course, Alfie wasn't reassured about his abilities as a father. He would probably always doubt them, even when he was old, a grandfather, and adored by a host of children who found him terribly funny despite himself, knowing that beneath his grumpy exterior he adored them too.
But that didn't matter. What mattered was that his family was well, that everything was perfect, and that was absolutely not the case. He had to find the best doctor for the delivery. There was no way his wife was going to suffer or anything happen to her.
Then there would need to be a nanny. And instructors. A big party to celebrate the baby's arrival. And a perfect house. The house in London was anything but perfect.
"There's Margate…" he murmured, smiling the way he always did when he thought of their so-called holiday home. "But it's far away. You won't be able to see your family as often. And I'd have to be away if I want to be at the Bakery… Unless I sometimes hand the reins over to Ollie, giving him instructions over the phone. I want to be there for you and the children."
"The children ?"
"It's so sad being an only child, treacle. We'll smother it with our love and our paranoia. Especially you. I'm a paragon of trust and maturity. There'll always be Cyril, but it's not the same, I imagine."
"Otherwise… If you're scared, Alfie, my aunt…"
"Shh. I know your witch of an aunt. Throw away whatever she gave you, that horrible woman. Wait, have you been to see her ? Before or after ?"
"… Before ?" she said with a small, apologetic pout.
"… Tell me your brothers don't know yet."
"Most of my brothers don't know yet."
The fact that she'd spoken to Tommy before him was what troubled Alfie the most in the end. He understood why she'd gone to see her older brother, but he felt the Shelby leader was going to make fun of him for it for a long time.
He muttered to himself for hours, continuing to drill holes in the walls, even though they'd decided they'd probably sell this house and move to Margate full-time. His analysis was correct, the place was bigger, more practical, with fewer stairs, plenty of space, and the sea. Perfect for raising a child.
"Do you prefer a boy or a girl ?" Y/N asked when he finally joined her in their bed.
"I don't know. Which is worse ? A little man who will turn out to be like me and reject my authority, or an adorable little girl to whom I could refuse nothing and whom I would try in vain to protect from the horrors of this world ?"
"And if it's a girl who looks like you ?"
"She'll become queen of the land, sell alcohol all over the world, and have three husbands completely under her spell."
"… You'd want three wives ?"
"No, treacle. Men are simply inferior to women, it takes several to make one decent one."
It was almost impossible to stop Alfie on the subject of children after that.
Not only did he never leave Y/N's side, making sure she was okay, but he proudly announced everywhere that she was pregnant with their first child, who would be strong, and intelligent, and perfect like its mother.
He waited a bit longer before mentioning their move, and what amounted to little more than his retirement. Being a parent was a full-time job after all. But she knew her husband well, he'd get bored after a few months, maybe even a few weeks. It was best he kept himself busy.
And no, watching boats with his binoculars and shooting at them wasn't a busy job.
"I find it very amusing, though, love. You should try it."
"Promise me you won't show this to Olliver or Lizzie."
"I don't recall approving those names."
"I'm waiting, Alfie."
"… I promise not to show this to our child. But in exchange, I choose the name, and Ollie won't be the godfather."
"No, of course not. It'll be Arthur."
"Don't play games with me, wife." he muttered, only half-serious, pulling her towards him to kiss her, his hand never leaving her stomach.
Y/N would choose the name of course, and the godfather, while Alfie would secretly showing how to shoot at passing boats, like a happy and perfect family.
Steve was not a hero, but you were and why did the hero always have to die alone?
This is pure angst. Language, character death(s), sacralises, tissues? Gif credits: go to @levanterhaze
Steve Harrington was never meant to be the hero, but he did fall in love with one.
While Mike, Dustin and Lucas were busy finding El in the woods you'd been busy building a life. You had a fake name, a fake life- a regular one.
See, when Steve met you he met you by the pretence. You'd turned up in school a year before everything that begun, settling into high school life quick, like you were trying to hide. No new girl got through without Steve's attention and he was annoyingly enamoured by you.
You weren't trying to be known by him, or anyone. You kept your head down, did your work and didn't make a sound.
Then Will Byers went missing, then the gate opened and closed and opened again and the both of you were taken into a world of monsters. Except it was always your world and kidding yourself any different was a game.
Steve always remembered when he and Dustin found you in the woods, in the small garden shed you'd made a home, sobbing because you were a monster, like them, like everything they fought against.
002.
But Steve never saw you as that, just like Mike never saw El as 011. You were a person with a name you'd made for yourself and you... you were Steve's person.
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" We don't need a magic bean!"
Nobody had been listening to each other, let alone Steve as they all tried to come up with some great plan to kill Vecna. But he yelled out and got everyone's attention.
Steve bristled under the eyes watching him, looking for help. He met your gaze and found your small smile.
You nodded. You always knew Steve knew a little bit more than he let on and maybe than he knew. There was no time like the end of the world for him to figure it out.
Steve met your gaze and took a deep but shaky breath in. " We... we don't need a magic bean. We got a bean stalk right here."
No, you did not doubt your boyfriend but you wished he'd get to the point.
Steve gathered everyone around the table, grabbing a torch and a slinky.
Robin followed next to you. " Does your boyfriend think now is a good time to play with his toys?"
You shrugged. " He might yet surprise you."
" Dingus usually does," she smiled, nudging you with her elbow.
Steve placed the torch up and began: " Okay, this flashlight is the Squawk radio tower and this slinky is the bridge," he said, putting it over the torch. " We'll never reach the Abyss from the tower, right? But Max said Vecna is drawing our worlds together. So, we let him and we wait and we wait as he draws it closer and closer. When it's close enough and the tower is poking through one of the rifts and boom, my girlfriend makes her move-"
He said it so proud, throwing out an arm in your direction.
Some thought this wasn't the time for him to be bragging and flirting but few smiled.
Steve gave you one of his grins before turning to your sister. " And El, of course. I'm talking meditation things, entering Vecna's mind, ambushing him. In your face dickhead and then, stopping the spell, halting the worlds from moving and- boom! We've got a beanstalk, it's perfect."
Dustin shared an astounded impressed look with you.
That was your boyfriend. Your boyfriend who never had to be in the fight but stayed because he loved you and had made a promise that one day it'd all be over and you'd live happily ever after.
" All we gotta do is climb up it into the Abyss."
Erica nodded. " I like it."
" It's not totally insane," said Mike.
" Thank you."
" But there's a big problem, a big one."
" We can't reach into Vecna's mind when he's too far away," said El.
Steve sighed, thinking his plan had failed.
You knew it hadn't. " Maybe not," you said to El, taking Steve's side and taking the slinky. You needed to do something with your hands. You'd been avoiding El for reasons you still couldn't face. " If the Upside down is under his realm or whatever it's still frozen in time which means all of Brenner's things will be there including-"
" The bath," said El.
" If you can make it into his mind, I can walk you through it, guide you," said Max. " I know his sick mind in and out."
You looked at Max, who was as much a little sister to you as El. " You've already been through so much."
" I can do it," she insisted.
Steve's hand squeezed your shoulder, a small curve to his lips to comfort you.
" I should be there too," added Kali. 008.
You had not met her with El, you only knew her as if today. The one who wanted to kill Dr Kay for the experiments she'd done and kill Henry. The one who wanted it all to end, one way or another.
You looked to Hopper as Kali spoke. His head shaking just enough for you to tell he knew what she was doing and he didn't like it.
There was a needle at the edge of your mind, a pull for attention.
El.
You glanced at her only a little. She stared blankly at you.
You straightened up, grabbing the hand Steve had on your shoulder and held it. You banished El from your mind. She only winced enough for you to see.
" Dig it," said Steve, breaking you out of your trance. " Kill the dick, rescue kids, we're all heroes. If Lucas is right we don't have a lot of time, so we have to move fast."
" One final thing," said Dustin, walking over to the two of you with a timer in hand. " The cherry on top. On the way out we drop a bomb near the exotic matter. Set a timer, escape the Upside down. The bridge collapses and with it: the Abyss, the Demos, the Mind Flayer, all of it, gone. Game. Set. Match."
You smiled at Dustin. You hated to see the bruises, the cuts on his face but knew you were slowly getting him back. That grief was slowly becoming something for him that he could wear and not be itchy in. You ruffled his hair under his hat. " Game set match."
" Let's do it," said Nancy, nodding. She was already gearing up for the fight of their lives. " Kill Henry, save the kids get the hell out before it blows up!"
Lucas yelled an agreement, his sister following as everyone hoped. There was a chance, a high chance you did it and all got to go home.
" Did I just come up with the plan to save the world?" asked Steve as the gang started to pile up to ready themselves.
You glanced at him. " Was about time." You rose up, pecking him on the cheek.
Everyone got to business, everyone but-
Steve's arm wrapped around your waist and tugged you into him. You'd have gasped if Steve didn't slot his lips over yours, kissing you deep and pouring everything he'd ever promised you in the kiss. His arms were tight around you as you bent at the knees, arching into him as he dipped you.
He pulled the both of you up. You squealed.
Steve pulled back, gazing at you. " I love you."
You looked down at his lips, up to his eyes. Your fingers brushed his cheek bone as you brushed back his hair. You wanted to remember it all.
Steve kissed you quick before moving past. " I've got a good feeling about this!"
Your stomach was twisted into knots, un-determined if they were the good sort that came with hope.
" Hey kid, you ready?" you heard Steve ask.
" Yeah, Steve. I am." El.
You turned in time to see Steve place a comforting hand on her head. You knew he wanted to ruffle her hair as he often did with Dustin or Max but it was brushed back and gelled in place.
He left you and El alone.
El stood there like she didn't want to be where she was. " Can we talk?"
It was the talk you never wanted. The sort you'd hoped wouldn't have to be said out loud because looking at you sister, you already knew what she was going to say.
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So the battle was won and all bad things must come to an end.
The Abyss had been made of sand, fire, mountains and rocks that jutted out more like talons and claws.
It had been you who took the axe to Vecna's head as he lay impaled on one of his own spikes. He had turned to you, recognising you as the closest thing he had to an ally when under Brenner. He'd spat our blood as he pleaded.
" Please... no."
You took the axe to him and in two harsh fell swoops killed him.
Still everything weighed heavy. Your talk with El, Kali's death. And Steve-
Jesus Christ, you'd almost lost him. You'd been with him when the radio tower met the crashing down sky and he pulled you to safety, tumbling down himself. You'd never been so terrified in your life, never felt your pulse race as fast as it did then.
You'd dove for him without care if you went over with him. You'd caught him in time and the both of you had collapsed holding each other. Still it wasn't enough.
Steve drove the truck with the kids in the back and the party.
As much as you wished you could sit next to him, hold him too tight you thought you might throw up if you did. Why he had to run under the belly of the beats and pop those eggs, you'll never know.
You settle for winding down the window and lie your head out. " Never thought there'd be a day I like breathing this stuff in."
" Hey, what're you doing? You're gonna get cold," he said, reaching for your hand and holding it.
" I'd rather die of frostbite then have to not have the window open," you said. " Steve, I love you but you're killing my nostrils. You stink."
He cringed, daring to look at you. " That bad, huh?"
You looked at him and slowly nodded. You squeezed his hand.
With great apprehension, Steve bowed his head and took a whiff of his jacket.
" Holy shit," he didn't even let go of your hand, driving with no hands on the wheel as he quickly cranked down his own window. " God baby, how can you even be sitting this close to me?" he gagged, fingers gripping the wheel tight.
You smiled at him. Because no matter what state, beaten up by bullies or Russians or demobats, you'd always be with him. You'd never have it any other way.
There was a sudden blare of horn and a flash of light as a military truck over took you. There was only a glimpse of Hopper and Murray's grinning faces before they cut you off.
" Assholes," you both uttered.
If Steve didn't have one hand in yours and the other on the wheel you were sure he'd have flipped them off.
But he wasn't letting go of your hand until he was.
" Hey, I know that was difficult back there but you did it," he brushed his hand through your hair, however sweaty and covered in sand it may have been.
You relaxed into his touch.
He glanced at you. " Hard parts over and now we get the rest of our lives."
Steve went back to watching the road but you watched him.
" Tell me about the rest of our lives," you said like asking for a story to send you to sleep.
Steve didn't take his eyes of the road but he licked his lips and there was a glint of excitement in his eyes. " Okay... okay, well you know about the six kids we'll be having."
Any other time you'd have kicked up a fuss about six, instead you nodded and waited for more.
" And every summer we'll go up somewhere, Yellowstone maybe. You know like a real family like we never had. But before that... I mean, I've been thinking. We get jobs, maybe sell my parents place and get somewhere smaller and save up to get that house you like Forest Hill. We'll paint the kitchen yellow cause you've always wanted a yellow kitchen. I figure Dustin won't let us off that easy, he'll be on uncle duty, heck he's probably got Godfather t-shirts ready."
You couldn't help but laugh, only turning away when a stray tear rolled your cheek.
Steve looked back, trying to get a look at you. " What? What is it?" he chuckled.
You wiped at your face quickly. " Just. sounds nice."
" It will be."
Steve was looking at you when Hopper and Murray swerved.
" Steve!"
He only knew something terrible was about to happen because of the panic in your voice.
Spikes in the road were waiting to welcome you home, piercing your tires and throwing you off. The kids in the back screamed and yelled as Steve swerved, breaking hard and trying to make as safe a stop as possible.
You'd hardly gotten to a stop when your door was thrown open.
" Out! Out! Get out now!"
You did so, hands up.
" Don't touch her!" Steve yelled, trying to get to you over the seats, but he was being pulled out the other end. " Don't you hurt her!"
With a jerk of your neck the soldiers were sent crashing into the truck. In the middle of the chaos, dozens upon dozens of soldiers pulling at you all nobody noticed you run as you tried to interfere with everyone's minds so you'd go un-noticed.
Only one saw you.
El called your name but was thrown up against the truck, next to Mike. Their hands were reaching desperately for each other but never quite touched.
El knew what you were going to do. She couldn't be there with you.
────────────────────────────
Steve lost sight of you as he was being carted away by soldiers, guns nudging into his back harshly. " Alright! Alright!" he'd comply, heck, he'd been in this situation before. All he cared about was getting a look at you. He couldn't see you in the chaos.
The military, they'd use you and El just like they had Kali. Your life of freedom was supposed to start today, not whatever this was.
" Steve!" he'd wanted it to be you calling his name but it was Robin who was pushed next to him. Their hands were made up on there, guns at their backs.
" Robin! Robin! Where is she? Can you see her?"
" No!" she sounded as panicked as he felt. She looked around but nothing other than the kids being pushed and shoved, torn apart. Holly was taken from Nancy, Joyce was trying to hold onto Will and Jonathon at once.
Dr Kay marched past them. " Sargent! Sargent, where is she? Where's zero-zero-"
There was a sickening crunch that nobody could miss as Dr Kay's neck snapped and she crumbled to the floor.
The soldiers didn't know what to do, the kids all looked around in the shouting and screaming.
Steve tried to look for El. " El?"
There she was, next to Mike. But she wasn't looking at the dead body of the Doctor that was hunting her. Neither was Mike, or Lucas.
Steve's brows furrowed, lights blinding him slightly. It was Dustin who gave it away as he looked past Steve and toward the gate to the Upside down.
" Oh no," the kid had mumbled but it reached into Steve's ears as he turned.
Oh no.
Oh god no.
You stood in the gate. No soldier in sight, no friend there either. There was only you and what any minute could be death.
Steve pushed against the soliders with all his might.
" Steve!" Robin yelled.
The solider made a grab at him.
" Get off me! Get off!" he yelled, cried, pulled or pushed he didn't know. All he knew was that he couldn't stand still.
" Steve! Steve, don't-"
" I said let me go-"
Steve pitched forward but didn't land in the gravel, he landed in water, in some place dark and far away.
" Steve."
Was he dead? Had the soldier's shot him? Were the both of you dead?
He glanced up and found you walking toward him in the darkness, in the water. You were the only thing of light.
Steve got up and ran to you. " Hey, woah, baby, baby," the stress and shouting of his voice wasn't there. He coaxed you gently. He wasn't even sure he was speaking but he felt your body soften when he caressed your arms. " What are you doing? What are you doing?"
You shook your head, tears falling.
" Hey, hey, hey, why are you crying?"
" It's the only way," you chocked.
It took Steve a moment to realise the two of you couldn't just hide out in here. That this wasn't a safe space but a final goodbye in the hole of a void.
" No," he said, disappointed. " No."
" Listen to me-"
" No, I won't-"
" Listen to me!"
" Put me back! I have to be there- I have to save you!"
You grabbed his cheeks, caressing them. " You have saved me, so many times, more than you know. Let me- let me save you."
" Save me? You're killing me baby, you're killing me," he cried, gripping your arms hard enough to bruise. Good, If he hurt you you'd make him apologise to you a thousand ways. For that you had to stay.
" I know, I know it'll hurt at first-"
" Hurt? You're killing me-"
" But I need you to understand-"
" No, no I don't," he cried. " Why are you- why are you doing this?"
You squeezed your eyes shut, tears falling. " Because it's the only way. If I live there will always be a key to the gate, there will always be Henry's blood in me and there will always be a chance this happens again. To some other poor kids. To some other town with innocent lives that I can't put at risk."
" Well I can't lose you," said Steve, spitting out the words as the salt of his tears stung his cracked lips. He was losing breath. The very air that he breathed was you. " I won't lose you."
" I'll always be with you, for as long as you want me to be," you sobbed.
" Now," he said. " I want you now, here, with me, always baby, why can't you see that."
In desperation Steve grabbed your cheeks and forced your heads together, like by some divine intervention you would know his thoughts and feel his feelings and feel his very soul being ripped out of him.
" I need you," he grit out, chocking on a sob. " I need you, why can't you see that?"
" You've never needed me, Steve-"
" Yes I have- I have, I do! I am nothing without you, nothing!"
" I need you to-"
" No... no don't say it-"
" Tell the kids I'm sorry," you cried.
Steve pulled you into him, gripping you and hiding his face in your shoulder to cry. " No." How could he face them knowing he let you go? How could he even look in the mirror.
" Tell Dustin I'm sorry he had to lose another friend-"
" What about El?" asked Steve, weeping now.
" When-when this place blows I'll use the last of what I have... wipe out the soldiers. She'll have to run but we talked about this."
Steve looked back, looking at you. He couldn't quite believe his last look upon you would be blurred by tears. " We talked about it."
" Tell Hopper I'm sorry-"
" Why are you doing this to me, baby?" asked Steve, searching around you for a way to stop it all.
" Tell Robin I'm sorry-"
Steve cried. " We were gonna have kids-"
" Tell- Tell Lucas he better marry Max-"
Steve hung his head. " You were gonna be the mother of my kids-"
" You'll find someone else, Steve, you can have everything you ever wanted."
" We were- our kitchen was gonna be yellow."
You took his face again, trying to wipe away his own tears when your hands were wet with yours. " I will always love you."
Steve didn't have any time to argue. Your hands came down to his chest and he thought maybe you'd kiss him and he'd wake up from the dream- the nightmare this clearly was.
You pushed and then he heard screaming.
" Steve! Steve!"
" No, please, don't do this!" Dustin?
The soldiers picked Steve up off the ground and he was in the camp, watching you in the gate of the Upside down.
He couldn't understand, he would never understand.
Your nose was bleeding, your arm out-stretched as you kept El in her place as she screamed and writhed against whatever force stopped her reaching you.
You. You sacrificing yourself again and doing it all alone.
Because you always did things alone.
You always assumed you'd be alone, like-
Like Steve.
He wouldn't find another. You were his lover, his one and only. Steve didn't have a family he had you.
You had him.
" Steve, come back!"
What was he doing? Letting you play the hero, letting you kill all of the dreams you'd made together?
Steve was in love with you. He loved you.
And he'd made a promise when he found you crying in that hut.
You'll never be alone again.
No soldier could keep him down. No words could stop him and make him live a life without you.
" Steve! Stop!"
" Oh god, no, no!"
Steve pushed the soldiers and punched another in the face and then he ran to you.
You were so focused on keeping El back, letting the soldiers hold the rest of them that you didn't notice Steve running at you until it was too late. " What are you doing?" you yelled, blood dripping down to your lips.
Steve wasn't going to let you go down alone.
You die. He dies.
The children cried, the others yelled.
Steve grabbed you and kissed you, the iron of your blood, the salt of his tears and the roar of the wind as the vinyl ended.
You'll never be alone again.
The upside down closed in a ball of fire, taking you and Steve with it.
um... hope you enjoyed? GIF https://levanterhaze.tumblr.com/
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