steve harrington loved it when you scratched away at his scalp.
the feeling of your fingernails dragging softly against his scalp brought him life. and when you raked your hand though his hair? he was a goner.
he wasn’t the only one that liked to have their hair played with. although his fingernails were nowhere near as long as yours, you loved the feeling nonetheless.
he went an entire 5 minutes over his allotted scratching time and you were getting impatient.
his cheek was smushed against your thigh, drool seeping out of his mouth as you played with his hair. you were pretty sure he was asleep with his eye open.
“steve.” you whined. “my turn.”
“five more minutes.” he mumbled.
“you said that five minutes ago.” you reminded.
“five more minutes and i’ll give you fifteen minutes extra.” he negotiated.
you huffed. “fine.”
five minutes later, he sat up straight with his hair sticking out in every possible direction.
you laughed softy to yourself and laid your head on his thigh. “25 minutes.” you reminded.
“yeah, okay.”
not even five minutes in he paused. “have you been using that hair oil from my grandma?”
“yeah, why?” you asked.
“your hair’s gotten thicker.” he hummed, raking his fingers through it. “very harrington-y.”
you snorted. “i’m almost out. what did she put in it?”
he tsked. “harrington recipe.”
“well, when’s she making a new batch? i need to ration.”
“whenever she feels like it.” he shrugged.
“i’m never getting a new batch, aren’t i?” you sighed, accepting defeat.
“not unless she gives you the harrington-exclusive recipe.”
“is that so?” you hummed. “and how would she go about doing that? given that i’m not a harrington?”
“m’sure that can be arranged.” he mused, hand lingering on the nape of your neck.
you laughed. “get to working, harrington.” you smacked his resting hand.
“yes, ma’am.”
you silently mouthed your name accompanied by his last name. it felt… right.
“it goes.” he spoke. “y/n harrington.”
“clock’s ticking.” he could’ve played dumb and thought you were referring to the 25 minutes you were milking, but he knew you better than that.
he knew you weren’t the type to ‘mess around and find out’. you knew what you wanted and steve better give it to you.
little did you know, a velvet box with exactly what you’ve been wishing for rested safe and sound in the inner pocket of one of his jackets.
Tags/Warnings: established steddie x reader, cockwarming, a steamy dream and Steve in glasses
WC: 2.3k
Your fingers carded through the thatch of hair on Steve’s chest, only to grip tight as you rode him into the mattress, earning you a loud groan in response. Eddie was right behind you, pushing Steve’s legs wider and wider apart, with one arm wrapped possessively around your middle. So close to the edge, you rocked faster, harder into Steve’s hips, feeling Eddie snake his hand lower to help you speed towards the precipice.
A head full of inky black curls, tangling with your own hair as he bit down on your neck. Steve groaned beneath you, clearly close as well, if the heaving of his breath was anything to go by. Another hand joined yours on Steve’s chest, this one paler, covered in rings and with nails painted black, holding your smaller one in place. Steve’s knees were tucked either side of your hips as Eddie pushed into him from behind you. Feeling every thrust from Eddie, making Steve rut up into you, you pushed faster and faster, so close to the edge. Closer, closer, until you were right there- and a noise from downstairs, a thud and someone swearing.
You woke with a start, thighs clamped together, with the sheets tucked up between them. A sheen of sweat beaded along your forehead as you sat up and let the blankets fall to your lap. The heat in your stomach bubbled, an angry boil ready to overflow the pot, slowly started to abate. Still there, just under the surface, but no longer a breath away. After a few moments, you’d convinced your heart rate to slow, almost a normal pace now.
With a huff, you smoothed your hair back from your forehead, taking a look around your shared bedroom. It was exactly as you’d left it when you’d gone for an afternoon nap, your side of the bed littered with Eddie’s detritus. He always slept in the middle, between you and Steve, and shared your nightstand with you, hence the cigarette butts and half drunk coffee mugs.
You couldn’t remember every detail of the dream you were having exactly, just snippets of a wide, golden chest smattered with hair and dotted with moles, and bony knuckles as they gripped your skin. The long column of Eddie’s throat, thrown backwards as he made your toes curl, and thick chestnut waves as they dipped between your thighs.
Steeling yourself, you managed to wriggle over onto Steve’s side of the bed and stood, sitting back down with a start when you felt the slick between your thighs.
You’d gone to bed in an old crop top of Eddie’s, more of a full tee on you, and a pair of Steve’s boxers, now no doubt ruined with your arousal. It was starting to spread now you were moving, swirling with sweat in the crease where your thighs met your hips.
You had three options laid out in your head: ignore how pent-up you were (not happening), take care of it yourself (was never as good as when you were with either of your partners), or find one of the aforementioned partners, and convince them to help you out. Considering you’d never had to convince either Eddie or Steve into bed, both of them very willing, it seemed like a no brainer.
The slide of your thighs felt a bit gross as you slinked downstairs, finding Steve sat at the dining room table, surrounded by paperwork. Turns out the thud had been a massive, heavy book being dropped on the floor, and the swearing was exasperation of not finding what he needed within its pages. He had mentioned something about needing to get some paperwork done for the house this week so he could get Hopper to sign as a character reference, and was clearly in the depths of it. He had one hand propping up his head, the other tapping a pen against a notebook, deep in thought. He was wearing the glasses he swore he didn’t need.
You padded across the floor to wrap your arms across his shoulders from behind and nose against his neck. He took one of your hands in his, rubbing circles into your knuckles.
“Hey baby, good nap?” He asked, without really looking up. The rumble of his voice buzzed under the skin against your lips.
“Hm? Yeah, fine” you replied, not listening. You dropped a kiss to the side of Steve’s throat, followed by another, then another. The stretched out collar of the old henley he was wearing left so much golden skin exposed, it was almost rude not to.
Slowly, you made your way around Steve to stand beside him, before you took his chin in your hand, forcing him to look up from the notes he was trying to focus on. Honey coloured eyes only met yours for a moment before you leaned in. He’d grown a bit of stubble recently, and it scratched deliciously against your skin as you kissed him. Both you and Eddie were on a mission to convince him never to go clean-shaven again, beard burn on both your thighs be damned. His big, warm palm cupped your cheek as your lips moved together, comfortable and familiar from the countless times you’d kissed.
You nipped just gently at Steve’s bottom lip, licking into his mouth when it fell open in a gasp, tasting the coffee he’d let go cold on the table in front of him. Feeling the familiar warmth regrowing in your stomach, you remembered why you’d come looking for him in the first place.
“Come upstairs,” you mumbled against his lips. Steve pulled back just enough to speak against your lips.
“I can’t love, I’ve gotta finish this tonight or Hop’s gunna have my ass” he sighed.
“Steve,” you whined, not-so-subtly rubbing your thighs together for even the tiniest amount of friction. He spotted your movement like a hawk.
“Oh, is that it?” He asked with a smirk. “You’ve come down here with an itch to scratch?”
You yanked him in for another searing kiss. “Come and help me with it” you breathed against his lips.
Steve sighed.
“Sweetheart, there’s nothing more I’d rather be doing, I promise.” Steve said between kisses. “But I really do have to finish this.” He removed the hand from your face to push his shirt sleeve up and check his watch. It was simple but classy, silver band with a pearlescent face, a gift from the kids when Steve turned 25.
“Ed’ll be back in twenty minutes, love.” He muttered. “Wanna keep me company until then?”
You hummed happily, stroking over the shell of his ear.
Steve pulled back and took off his glasses, rubbing at his tired eyes. He patted his lap like you were a cat that needed convincing, not that you’d ever need it.
You let yourself get manhandled into Steve’s lap, knees spread wide over his thighs as you faced him. The chair was just wide enough for you to bear some weight either side of his narrow hips. A strong arm wrapped possessively around your back, while yours looped around his neck.
You sort of half heard him going back to what he was doing, occasionally hearing the scratch of a pen, or the tap of a calculator. The simmer in your belly was creeping back.
Running the fingers from one hand through the hair at Steve’s nape, you let the other pull at the collar of his shirt, exposing even more of his throat. You pressed a tiny kiss against one of his millions of moles, eliciting a happy hum from Steve.
The next few kisses planted up and down his neck went much the same way, Steve happy and pliant beneath you, before you pushed your luck- finding a spot near his clavicle to suck between your teeth, pairing the action with an involuntary roll of your hips.
Steve dropped the pen with a huff, you heard it roll off the table and skitter across the parquet floor.
“Sweetheart, I really need to concentrate on this,” he grumbled, hands finding your shoulders to look you in the eye.
You knew you could leave him alone, wait for Eddie to come back and take care of you, or even just force yourself into a cold shower. The hum of the snake coiled in your guts was just too much to ignore.
“Please Stevie.” You flashed your best puppy eyes down at your boyfriend. You knew he was a sucker for what he called your ‘Bambi eyes’. It was the exact same reason he’d fallen for Eddie too, another master of batting his lashes to get what he wanted. Steve wouldn’t have it any other way.
“Promise you’ll be good?” He asked. You’d already won.
Nodding frantically, you let him lift you just slightly from his lap, one wide palm skimming the underside of your thigh, while the other inched higher, pushing his own boxers aside to touch you. You’d never been so grateful for the girth of Steve’s thighs, the leg hole of the boxers wide enough for his whole hand to fit in alongside your thigh. He only stayed like this for a few moments, enough to run his finger tips through your slit, collecting your arousal. You whimpered into his neck as he grazed over your swollen clit.
“I know baby, I’ve got you.” He murmured into your hair, leaving a kiss behind your ear. “So fuckin’ eager. All worked up for us, huh? Can’t even wait 20 minutes.”
Apparently now incapable of speech, you just nodded into the crook of Steve’s neck again.
“I’ve got you.” He mumbled again. “I’ll keep you busy until Ed gets home.”
Gently, Steve withdrew his hand from your core. In the little gap between your hips and his, he managed to yank his sweats halfway to his knees. You watched as he gave his half-hard cock a few tugs, before encouraging you back into his lap. Boxers pulled to the side, he nudged at your entrance. You met his lips again in a soft kiss as he edged inside you. The accumulated slick between your folds eased him, without any prep, inch by inch, until you were fully seated again. A sigh escaped your lips as your eyes fluttered closed, finally sated. You’d always enjoyed this, even slept like this a few times with both of your boys. It was a warm feeling you couldn’t describe, just closeness. It was such an intimate thing to share with someone, not even always sexual, just wanting to feel someone everywhere.
Steve wrapped his arm around you again, tucking your head under his chin. “Now you just gotta wait for Ed, honey”
Time passed slowly. Steve went back to what he was doing, glasses back on, while you listened to his heartbeat against your ear. You felt your eyelids droop, your body warm and appeased. The bubbling in your groin was at peace, calm and still in this state, but threatening to heat up again if either of you moved. It could have been 5 minutes or an hour when the rumble of Eddie’s van could be heard pulling into the driveway.
A few moments later, you listened to Eddie’s key in the front door, him toeing off his boots, and setting a guitar case down in the hall. He appeared in the doorway in his socks, hair pulled up into a sweaty bun.
“Afternoon” he spoke as he entered the kitchen. “What have we got here?” Eddie motioned to you in Steve’s lap.
You smiled sleepily up at him.
“Princess here has been awaiting very patiently for you to get home, Eds” Steve replied, not looking up from what he was doing, but rubbing the thumb of his free hand in little circles on your lower back.
“Is that right?” Eddie asked, pottering over to you both and carding his hand through Steve’s thick hair, ignoring you for the time being.
Steve looked up, putting the pen down. “Oh yeah, came down here all desperate, I think she had a dream about some metalhead that got her all worked up- he sounded like a complete loser”
“He is, you’re right.” Eddie leant down to meet Steve for a kiss. “I assume you’ve taken care of our sweet girl then, Stevie? Considering you’re sat at the dinner table with your pants down” Eddie asked with a grin.
You squirmed a bit in Steve’s lap while the boys talked about you as if you were invisible.
“Well, I’m a little tied up at the moment, but I’ve kept her nice and warm until you came home” Steve stole another kiss from Eddie’s lips before the older boy stood to finally give you some attention.
“Oh darling, all worked up for us?” He asked. You nodded against Steve’s shoulder.
“Wanna come upstairs with me?” Eddie asked, wiggling his eyebrows.
“Fuck yes” You nodded again, jostling your head with Steve’s chin in the process.
“Come here then, love” Eddie leant you a hand to get up from Steve’s lap and you took it. You hissed as Steve slipped out of you, still not quite fully hard, and Eddie’s eyes widened as he watched. He pulled you tight to his chest when you finally stood, pressing a sweet kiss to your lips, followed by a big wet raspberry to your cheek.
“Ew Eddie-“ you laughed, squirming in his hold and pushing at his shoulders, only making him grin wider. He leaned down towards Steve.
“And you, big boy, come here” he leered, leaning closer and closer. Steve spluttered, pushing Eddie away with both hands.
“No way, I don’t want to catch whatever’s wrong with you” he groaned. “Go upstairs both of you, I’ll be up in a minute.”
Eddie took your hand and pulled you towards the stairs.
“Next time you end up like this, call me at practise.” He murmured in your ear. “I swear I’d get here in seconds.”
Can u pls write one where steve can never say no to reader whatever it is she does the best puppy eyes and he gives in and all the older members in the party tease him about it when it happens in front of them
How Could I Say No ᝰ.ᐣ
Steve Harrington x fem!reader 500 words
Warnings: Fluff, down bad Steve, manipulation,
Steve’s restraint disappears the moment you hit him with those puppy dog eyes, making him cave to whatever you want immediately
Steve thought he had more control over his self-restraint, at least he thought he did until you found the upper hand on him. Clutching a bag of chocolate sweets in your hands—you’re absolute favorite, you started wining to have them. The problem was that you two were soon going out for lunch, and Steve knew you would be too full to eat anything then if you ate them now.
“No.” Steve didn’t even look up, but it only made you steadfast.
“Please, Stevie?” You begged, stepping closer.
“Nope,” He said, popping the p. “Sorry, baby, but the last time you ate dessert before lunch, you refused to finish it.”
You groaned, “I swear I’ll eat this time.”
“Mm-mm,” he sounded, shaking his head swiftly.
A beat passed, Steve thinking you had finally given up. Then you hit him with the full package—wide puppy dog eyes, the cutest pout of your lips, head tilted slightly to the side.
He looked back up and you caught the exact moment his heart melted, lasting no more than two seconds. “…Fine.”
You instantly ripped the bag open, letting out a delighted squeak. “But only one!” Steve rushed to say, pretending to ignore the way you had already scooped a handful.
Once you discovered your secret tactic you wouldn’t let it go, especially since Steve was so quick to give in.
The arcade was buzzing with neon lights flashing, kids running around, and Eddie complaining loudly for the fifth time that he couldn’t beat his high score while Robin took pride in showing hers off in comparison.
Steve had left momentarily to retrieve some food for you all, and your eyes fell on the claw machine. Not to mention your bad history with the game—time and time again you’ve tried to win the same prize, only to walk away empty handed.
Once Steve resurfaced in your line of vision, you gasped with an idea, if there was someone who had enough determination to beat the thing, it was your boyfriend.
Eddie and Robin turned as you latched onto Steve’s arm, dragging him towards the machine. “Can you win this prize for me?” You asked sweetly, gesturing towards the bear trapped in the see through box.
“It’s a claw machine,” Steve responded. “It’s rigged, meaning literally designed to keep you from winning.”
“But I really really want it, and I believe in you.” You furrowed your brows, and with barely any effort, presented your best puppy dog eyes at him.
Steve stiffened, trying not to crumble under the weight of your poor expression, but failing miserably. He rubbed his jaw, before dropping his head. “Looks like we’re about to lose all of our quarters.”
Eddie grinned, “Dude—you seriously folded.”
Steve shot him an unimpressed look, fishing change out of his back pocket. “Get a grip on yourself, dingus.” Robin added, letting out a disbelief laugh.
“It’s not my fault, she just does that and I can’t—” Steve weakly explained.
“It’s okay, we get it.” Robin said sympathetically. “You’re just incredibly whipped for your girl.” She nodded.
Steve didn’t even respond, because he didn’t need to, having already realized that for himself ages ago.
“Time to show this claw how it’s done.” He squinted, beginning to maneuver the handle around carefully.
At the sight of the happiest look on your face with the plush toy tucked under your arm, Steve didn’t regret being easy, not one bit.
Heyyy, so I read your “I like when you take care of me “ fic (I think that’s what’s it was called, sorry if it’s not 😅) , anyway, I was wondering if you could maybe do a part 2 where reader finally says I love you, you could do whatever you want, maybe some fluff and smug, but yea, I just loved it so much and I need a part 2 jaja. Ur an amazing writer btw
Hopeless Romantics
Part 2 of ‘I like taking care of you’ but can be read as a one shot
Synopsis: You’re in love with Steve Harrington, you just don’t know if he’s in love with you.
Pairing: Steve Harrington x Fem!Reader
WC: ~4.1k
Tags: 18+ MDNI, brief-ish smut, oral f!receiving, p in v, dry humping, idiots in love, angsty, miscommunication, happy ending <3, getting interrupted, stobin roommates!!
Notes: You know I have been wanting to write a part 2 for that fic so i’m so glad you’ve sent this request!!!
Masterlist
You didn’t know why you couldn’t just say it.
You and Steve had been very seriously dating for months. You saw each other every day, lived in each other's pockets, literally. You were essentially his and Robin’s third roommate.
God, your body ached, filled to the brim with love.
All those feelings and yet you just couldn’t say the words.
I love you, Steve.
They played in your head like a broken record, over and over, and over again. From the moment you woke up and saw his soft sleepy face, to the moment he kissed you goodnight. It was deafening.
You punished yourself every day in your mind for being such a coward but you didn’t want to put your heart on the line. Even though, whether you said the words to him or not, they were still very much true.
The longer you waited, the more the doubt set in. Because sure, you hadn’t said it, but neither had he. And Steve was a confident guy – surely if he felt it, he would just say it… right?
Another month went by and you pushed the words down so hard that they were starting to push back. Like they had developed a mind of their own and were trying to claw their way out. But now you didn’t even want to say it, not when you felt like you wouldn’t hear those words reflected back at you.
It took every ounce of self control to keep the lid on your feelings, especially in moments when the filter between your heart and your mouth felt more permeable.
In the morning before the weight of the day set in.
At night as you drifted off, the line of reality and dreams becoming blurred.
Or when you had sex.
Because it didn’t feel like just sex – it felt like making love.
He’d get so deep inside you it felt like he was physically pushing the words out all the way from the pit of your stomach, up out your throat. He’d press his forehead against yours, his mouth over your gaping one, like he could breathe in the words if you let him. And the things that Steve would say to you during did not quell your feelings in the slightest.
I love how you feel around me.
That’s it, that’s my girl.
Love those sounds you make, baby.
It was like he was taunting you with words so close to what you wanted – needed – to hear.
In those moments, you only allowed yourself restrained whimpers as you felt Steve invade every crevasse of your physical body and your spiritual soul, worried what might slip out if you fully let yourself go.
“Steve,” you gasped out one time.
Steve’s hips ground into yours, brushing against your aching nub and gummy walls with each thrust.
“What is it, baby?” He asked not to tease you, but with genuine care and curiosity.
Steve always wanted to make you feel good. It made your heart light up in your chest as you felt heat course through you.
“I–ugh–I lo–“
Your orgasm cut you off, making you moan out something completely unintelligible. You narrowly avoided the embarrassment of confessing your love to Steve during sex. But it was getting harder and harder not to say it each time.
You came back down to earth to see Steve laying next to you with the most radiant smile across his lips. For a split second you thought he might say it. Something in the way his eyes traced your face, lingering on each of your features. His lips parted like he was going to say something.
Then he leaned over, pecked your lips and said; “goodnight.”
One afternoon, Steve was making sandwiches for the two of you. Sunlight streamed in the tiny window above the sink as his broad shoulders took up most of the space of his kitchen. You sat at the counter watching as he carefully assembled whatever weird combination of ingredients he had recently discovered.
“You’re gonna love it,” he assured you.
I love you, you thought.
He sat the plate down in front of you, gave you a soft kiss on your temple, before sitting himself on the stool next to you, his knee brushing yours in a way that felt so natural.
He tucked into his sandwich immediately but you just stared at yours.
It was also in these kind of comfortable domestic moments where you felt it even stronger. When it felt like you had known him for eternity and eternity would never be long enough.
“I know it looks kinda gross, but trust me, you–“
“–Steve, I love you.”
It just came out.
Your tone wasn’t romantic or loving, it was matter of fact, like you were telling him the time. You didn’t even look at him, just kept looking at the sandwich.
“What?” Steve said through his mouthful.
Definitely not the reaction you wanted. You almost wondered if you just thought you said it but what came out was actually complete gibberish.
You whined, collapsing your head into your hands. “I love you,” you said again.
This time it was shakier like you were uncertain. Not of how you felt, but of how he would react.
Nothing came out of Steve’s mouth except for chewing noises.
It felt like hours passed before he finally spoke. “Shit.”
Okay that was definitely worse than the first time.
Steve got up from his stool and started pacing as much as he could in the confined space of the kitchen. You slowly lifted your head from your hands, peeking out from under them to look at him but he wouldn’t meet your gaze.
“I’m such an idiot,” he said to himself.
You just looked at him confused and panicked.
“Steve–“
“–Are you being serious?” He finally turned to you.
Your eyes went wide, a choked laugh of disbelief exited your throat before you could stop it.
“What kind of question is that?” You shot back at him, your voice stern but your eyes started welling up.
“You’re in love with me?” Steve said like it was a question. His eyes were glassy also but his brows were drawn together like curtains he was trying to hide behind.
You took a deep breath before you answered. “Yes.”
“Since when?”
You groaned in annoyance, again with the questions. You didn’t want to escalate an already tense situation so you decided to just answer, then maybe he’d stop and at least let you down easy the rest of the way.
“Probably since the first time we kissed.” You felt embarrassed admitting just how long you’d let Steve live in your heart while you were just a guest in his.
“Jesus Christ,” he muttered as he ran his palms over his face.
“Okay, look,” you said, sliding off the stool. Its legs scraped along the tiles gratingly. “I’m, uh, I’m just gonna go.” Your eyes never left your feet.
“Hey, no, no, no. Wait!” Steve’s hand reached out to grab your forearm.
Every wrinkle of your brain told you to rip it away from him, but every beat of your heart told you to stay.
Against your better judgement, you listened to your heart and turned back to him. You could hardly see his features through the tears in your eyes.
“I have fucked this up so bad, just–“ he took a deep breath, “give me a second.”
You did, you stood there looking at him, just letting him hold your beating heart in his hands, waiting for him to rip it apart.
Steve placed his hands on your shoulders and gazed deep into your eyes like he was looking for something in them.
“Do you mean it? Everything? That you’ve been in love with me this whole time?”
“Yes.” Your voice trembled as you spoke.
“Like, love, love?”
“God damnit, Steve.” You shook his hands off you. “How many times are you going to make me say it! Yes, I love you, okay? But right now I feel like I wanna fucking kill yo–“
Steve lurched forward, his hands enveloped the sides of your face as he pressed his lips to yours. You stumbled back in shock. You couldn’t even kiss back, you were too stunned, confused, and you were still crying.
Steve pulled back after a moment, he wiped a tear that fell from your eye with his thumb and you hated how much you instinctively leaned into his touch.
“I love you too,” he said, his voice soft but certain.
“What?”
Much like Steve’s reaction before, you were slightly caught off guard by his confession.
He leant his forehead against yours. “I am so sorry I freaked out, this is so not how I wanted this to go.”
“Yeah, me neither,” you said as you stepped back from him. “What the hell was that about?”
It was your turn to ask the questions. Not quite ready to move on from the ordeal Steve put you through for the last few minutes.
He sighed, his head hung low towards the floor. “I wanted to be sure you really meant it,” he said quietly.
“I wouldn’t say it if I didn’t.”
“Well I’ve heard those words before and they didn’t mean shit.”
You knew about his past relationships, knew he had been hurt before, but you had no idea he still carried that weight around so heavily. As much as that made your chest tighten, you were hurt that Steve had let it shift on to you.
“Steve, do not take your insecurities out on me.”
Steve looked up when he heard the crack in your voice.
“I know, I’m sorry.” He closed the gap between you again, reaching carefully for your hand in case you pulled away – you didn't. “I didn’t mean to I– I was just scared.”
“Scared of what?”
“That you didn’t love me like I love you or that you’d say it and then…” Steve’s voice trailed off, like he was finding it hard to truly articulate the worries swirling around his head.
“Hey…” you reached a soft hand up to his cheek. “I’m not gonna leave you.”
Steve smiled at how you somehow could decipher the mess in his mind, but it quickly dropped into a frown.
“You say that now, but–“
“–Steve,” you interrupted. “The time we’ve had together,” you started, bringing your other hand up to cradle his face and force his eyes to lock to yours. “Has been the most amazing time of my whole life. God, I can’t even remember what it was like before I loved you, and I don’t want to imagine what it would be like after.”
That soft smile was back on Steve’s trembling lips.
“I don’t want there to be an after,” he said.
“There doesn’t have to be.”
You leant into each other like magnets, pressing your foreheads together.
Steve took a few deep breaths to center himself, feeling your presence anchor him. “Can we try this again?”
You giggled, “sure.”
You stepped away from Steve and composed yourself as much as you could, but the smile plastered on your face took over. You took his hand in yours and held it tight to your chest, right over your heart.
You opened your mouth to speak but Steve beat you to it this time.
“My sweet girl,” he tucked your hair behind your ear with his free hand, “I love you, so much.”
The moment made you instantly forget the panic that you felt just a minute ago.
“I love you too.”
As you said it this time, your voice was unwavering. There was no anxiety laced through it, just pure, reciprocated love.
When Steve crashed his lips to yours again, you didn’t miss a beat before kissing him back. His strong hands cradled your face as you ran yours all the way up from his elbows to the hair that fell over the nape of his neck. You were both smiling into the kiss as Steve walked you back to the kitchen counter. As soon as it dug into your back you gasped, opening your mouth, which Steve took as an opportunity to brush his tongue past your lips. His hands fell down to your hips to press you tightly against him.
“I love you,” Steve said between heated kisses, “I love you, I love you, I love you.”
You giggled agaisnt his lips as he kept up his loving words. “You don’t have to keep saying it.”
Steve broke away to look deep into your eyes. “Yeah I do. I’ve got all these ‘I love you’s built up inside me, I’ve gotta get them out.”
He lifted you up onto the kitchen counter but you were constantly tugging him towards your lips by the hair, he struggled to get you up. Steve’s hands flattened out over your thighs as he stood between your legs. His palms spread warmth over the exposed skin that your shorts didn't reach. You stroked your hands through his hair as the kiss intensified. Deep breaths into each other's mouths, little whines of satisfaction and wanting more. You reluctantly pulled back, Steve’s mouth tried to chase yours but you held his face between your hands.
There was one more question you had to ask. “When did you know?”
Steve was a little frazzled from your kisses and didn't quite pick up what you were saying at first.
So you elaborated, “I told you when I fell in love with you, now you have to tell me.”
Steve’s eyes lit up like he could see the memory replaying in his mind. “Do you remember when I picked you up for our first date?”
“Yeah, I recall,” you said, smiling uncontrollably wide.
“Do you remember tripping on the porch step?”
“Oh my God!” You brought your hands up to cover your face. “I was so embarrassed! I couldn’t stop thinking about it the whole night.”
Steve gently moved your hands out the way and kept them in his as he continued, “it was then.”
You looked at him with slight disbelief but mostly with complete awe.
“I just felt something when you grabbed my arm and I held you to stop you from falling face first into the gravel.” Steve chuckled and you mirrored the infectious sound. “I guess it was really me that fell, ‘cause I fell in love with you right there and then.”
“You mean,” you started speaking but had to pause for a second as you felt your mind, and heart, processing what Steve just said. “We’ve both been totally in love with each other since our first date and neither of us said anything?”
“Looks that way,” Steve shrugged.
“Wow, we are such idiots.”
“I think I prefer the term ‘hopeless romantics’.”
Steve’s hands snaked around your back, rubbing you through the soft fabric of your cotton t-shirt that was actually his.
You wrapped your legs tightly around him as you both pressed hard into each other. Steve leant slowly back in to kiss you, but you spoke before he could get there.
“Wait, you knew you were in love with me when you picked me up, but you waited all the way until you dropped me home to just kiss me?”
“Hey, I’m a gentleman. Isn’t that one of the things you love about me?”
“One of many.”
“Tell me more.”
Steve’s lips connected with yours again in a long, hot press of his supple lips.
“Well, I really love that,” you said.
“What about this…”
Steve gave the same treatment to your neck, just below your jaw. You felt the heat of his mouth radiate through you.
“Oh yeah, love that.”
“And this?”
Steve’s hips circled over yours and you felt the subtle hardness in his jeans press into your core.
Your eyes fluttered shut, a content sigh left your lips.
“Yeah, you love that,” Steve said on your behalf.
You matched his rhythm as you ground your hips against him. The denim of his crotch, rough over the thin material of your shorts.
“God, do you know the amount of times I had to stop myself from screaming ‘I love you’ during sex,” Steve said into your ear, his voice lower than before.
“Fuck, me too.”
You both rubbed agaisnt each other harder at the realisation that you had been holding back, and that you didn’t have to anymore.
“I love you, I’m gonna tell you all the fucking time, baby.”
You whined, whether from his words or the way pressure was building in your core, you didn't know, but it felt so good.
“Ugh, Steve, I love you too. Don’t ever stop saying it.”
Your hands roughly travelled up under Steve’s shirt and he took it as a signal that you wanted it off. You were both still desperately grinding on each other like you couldn’t even wait to get your clothes off to feel each other.
Steve then made quick work of your shirt, throwing it to join his in a pile on the tiled floor.
“I want you,” he murmured agaisnt your mouth before opening it wide over yours, making you do the same.
“Show me how much you love me, Stevie.”
The feeling of his hot hands running up your back to the clasp of your bra sent electricity all the way to your fingers and toes.
You two were so in your own world that you must not have heard the sound of keys jiggling in the lock of the front door to the small apartment.
“Woah!”
You both froze as you heard Robin’s distinctive voice enter the room. The front door opened straight into the living room, the small kitchen in full view. It must have been quite a sight to behold. You and Steve, both shirtless, hands grabbing, hips moving.
“Robin!” Steve yelled, using his bare torso to cover yours.
“You guys know we have bedrooms here, right?” She said, not sounding too fazed by what she walked in on. She had caught the two of you in far more compromising positions.
“Sorry Robin,” you said, although your voice held little remorse. “We got a bit excited.”
“Yeah, I can see that.” Robin gestured towards Steve’s very obvious hard on in his jeans.
“Shit,” he muttered turning back to you to try and hide it.
“We just, uh, love each other a lot,” you told her, wanting to share the moment with the person who was witness to yours and Steve’s relationship as it bloomed.
“Wait, he finally said it?” Robin asked with a delighted look on her face.
“Well, she said it and then I was a total dickhead about it–“ Steve responded.
“–Total dickhead,” you added.
“But yeah, we said it.” Steve pecked your lips. “I have been telling Robin how crazy I am about you since that first date,” he said to you, his face close to yours like you were the only two people in the room.
“Really?” You asked him.
“Oh yeah, he’s been completely insufferable,” Robin confirmed, reminding you she was in fact still there.
“Aw,” you cooed at Steve.
You cupped his face and brought his lips to yours again, the rest of the world fading around you as you kissed him hungrily.
“Okay,” Robin clapped her hands together but it didn’t seem to have any effect on the two of you.
She turned around but could unfortunately still very much hear the sound of your lips smacking together.
“As happy as I am for you guys, I really don’t want to be in the building for whatever is about to, or is currently happening. So, why don’t I make myself scarce for, like, half an hour–“
“–An hour.” Steve broke away from you for a split second to correct her.
“Wow, okay, sure, whatever.” Robin walked back to the front door, grabbing her keys and opening it. “Just please, promise me you won’t do it there, that’s where we eat.”
“Promise,” you assured her, Steve’s lips now attacking your neck.
“Later, love birds!”
The door clicked shut and Steve let out a deep moan like he had been holding it in.
“Steve… C’mom, let’s take this to the bedroom.”
“No, here’s good.”
“I promised Robin,“ you whined reluctantly as you pushed his chest slightly away from you.
”I didn’t,” Steve smirked.
“She’s right, we eat here.” You gestured towards the kitchen island you sat atop. Steve’s half eaten sandwich to your left and your untouched one to your right.
A mischievous grin spread across Steve’s face.
“In that case,” he tugged at the waistband of your shorts, you in no way protested as he pulled them down and off your legs. “I better do this.”
Steve lowered himself to his knees, his eyes never leaving yours as he did. He placed a soft kiss to one of your knees before planting his large hands on the inside of your thighs and opening you up more.
As Steve’s head closed in on your core, you grabbed his hair, your other hand behind you on the cool worktop, allowing you to tilt your pelvis out for him. Nothing in your body told him you wanted him to stop, even if you were still hesitant with your words.
“Robin could walk back in.”
Steve placed a kiss to the damp patch in your underwear and held his face there as he hummed against you, the subtle vibrations flowing right through you.
“She won’t be back for an hour,” he mumbled, not quite able to move away from the part of you he was so close to tasting. “And I plan on spending that whole hour showing you just how much I love you.”
Steve’s hands moved up to pull your panties from your hips, down your thighs and off to join the pile of clothing that was building up. You were now completely naked in Steve’s kitchen, exposed to him in such a way that if it was anyone else you might feel shy. But Steve moaned just at the sight of you spread out for him. He was quickly back on you with his head between your legs, his hands on your thighs. You with your hands in his hair, pulling him closer against you. His mouth was hot, wet, desperate – just like you.
Something about knowing Steve loved you as he tasted you made it feel so much more euphoric, like you could feel the words on his tongue. It really didn’t take long for Steve to get you close to completely unravelling. Now that you didn’t fear the words escaping, you were much more vocal.
“God, Steve, ugh, that feels so good, you’re so good to me.”
And that seemed to make Steve even more ravenous.
“Want you to say it when you come, baby. I need to hear you say it.”
“I’ve wanted to for so long–ugh, fuck, I’m so close just like that Stevie, yes!
He sucked on your sensitive nub, every so often dropping his tounge to your hole, teasing it and tasting how he was making you feel.
“Steve… ah! I’m gonna come–ugh–I love you so much, so, so much.”
Steve mumbled, “I love you too”, against you as you came. Not that you could really make out what he was saying, but you got the idea.
He kissed your folds, along the inside of your thighs, before getting back up to face you at the same level.
“I do think I’m gonna need the bed for this next part,” he said with his mouth glistening.
“Oh really?”
“Hmm,” Steve hummed as he nuzzled his nose agaisnt yours. “I’m going to make slow, deep, passionate love to you.” He kissed you to share the taste of you. “I just wanna drown in you.”
Any air you had regained in your lungs seemed to leave it at his words.
“Steve.” You spoke his name like it was the only word left in your vocabulary.
He smiled against your lips as he lifted you off the counter and into his arms. You wrapped your legs around his waist and kissed him all the way to the bedroom.
When Robin returned, just over an hour later, she peaked throguh the front door hesitantly. She breathed a sigh of relief as she found nothing but the empty living room and kitchen. That was until she saw the pile of clothes on the kitchen tiles, your underwear at the top.
“These freaks,” she whispered to herself as she realised you definitely didn’t keep your promise.
She then heard a loud, ‘fuck’, come from Steve’s room, followed by a down right pornographic moan that was obviously you.
“Nope,” Robin said out loud to the empty room.
Once again, she grabbed her keys and hurried out the door.
“I really need to move out,” she muttered as she clicked the door shut, leaving the chorus of moans and expletives behind.
A/N: as if I got to over 400 followers before I got a chance to thank you guys for 300??? You lot are crazy I love it <3
Yes! It's almost finished. It'll basically be about how Steddie acts and takes care of y/n while she's pregnant with their baby. It should be posted this week.
summary: dustin henderson never had a good role model when it comes to love and it shows when he gets his first serious crush. but then he looks around and notices the way steve treats you, he realizes he had the best role model this entire time.
warnings: straight fluff, i mean tooth rotting sweetness, steve being completely boyfriendish again, dustin dealing with anxiety, light cursing, fem reader, domesticity again because i love it. just steve being perfect again.
from jen: i've had this in my drafts for weeks but got a surge of inspiration so i finished it and am positing it at 3am! i hope you guys love it as much as i do. i love steve harrington and mileven and lumax! as always, with love <3
➽──────────────❥
Dustin Henderson had a problem.
A cute as a button, super smart, Suzie – with a Z – problem.
He met a girl he couldn’t get out of his mind no matter how hard he tried, but it wasn’t like he ever actually tried. Suzie was smart, she was sweet, added onto his perfectly timed jokes about the universe. She was perfect for him, all he had to do was make a move.
But it’s been weeks of spending time with her and he still hasn’t. He told himself it was because the timing wasn’t right or the moment wasn’t perfect, but he knew the truth.
Dustin was scared. Not just of rejection, no he was sure Suzie Q shared the same feelings as him. What he was truly scared of was how he had absolutely no idea what he was doing when it came to love and the feelings adjacent. He loved his mother, she was his favorite person in the world, but it’s always been only him and her.
After his dad split, she never moved on. She was .. eccentric so to speak, an acquired taste, and she wasn’t the kind of woman who was going to prioritize a man’s comfort over her own happiness, so she opted to staying single and raising her son. Dustin didn’t mind, not even a bit. He loved growing up with his mom. But he’d be lying if he said this was the one downside to his childhood.
He didn’t have a real example of how love should look. How could he possibly be any good at it? He was sure he would screw it up with Suzie, and he really didn’t want to.
1.
There was new theater opening up in town and with every new movie, the group made plans to see it together every time. Everyone had chosen to meet up at Mike’s house, of course, and would carpool together. Nancy and Jonathan opted to stay home this time but she was nice enough to let Steve drive her car so everyone could fit.
It was a hectic blur of the kids racing each other to the car, everyone wanting to get the best seats in the wagon. Max and Lucas scored the best seats next to each other, right behind the front seats, leaving one left open – which Mike was happy to let Dustin take so he and El could sit together in the far back.
Dustin trudged behind, lost in his thoughts about Suzie. As he rounded closer to the car, he noticed you and Steve not far behind him, talking to yourselves.
Just as you two made it to the car, Dustin watched Steve reach for your door handle and hold it open. Dustin noticed how he didn’t even interrupt the conversation as he did so, or the way you didn’t even flinch at his action. You simply thanked him and slid in, just before Steve made sure your feet were safely tucked inside and pushed the door shut before rounding the car and sliding in himself.
Dustin stumbled into the car, and his mind started wandering. It wasn’t the first time Steve had done that, he always opened the doors for you – car doors, front doors, literally any door around, Steve made sure you didn’t touch it. It was .. sweet.
“Alright, you little shits ready?” Steve announced from the driver seat, grinning at the sound of everyone grumbling about his nickname for them.
This was just the first time Dustin really started to notice the things Steve did for you.
2.
After managing to find and kill a hoard of demogorgons together, Steve and Dustin became pretty much inseparable. In the years following that time, it hadn’t changed, even after you and Steve became official. The duo became a trio.
So when Dustin managed to convince Steve to play in one of his DND campaigns, Steve made sure to bring you along. If he was going to suffer, he was gonna make sure his beautiful girlfriend was nearby.
You’re perched in the passenger seat of his BMW, fingers drumming along to the song playing over the radio. Steve and Dustin are talking, or rather arguing, beside you about the importance of punctuality.
“Steve, it’s my campaign. It’s one of my duties to arrive early enough to set things up properly to ensure the smoothest route into reality shifting fun!”
Steve’s face twists in pure annoyance. “What?”
You giggle to yourself at his expression. You can tell he’s trying to understand what Dustin is talking about but he’s already running on thin patience after even agreeing to this.
He and Dustin continue shouting over each other as Steve pulls into the gas station.
“We don’t have time for gas!” Dustin yells, his fingers wrap around the head rest of Steve’s seat and angrily tugs at it.
Steve hastily parks his car, and whips around, smacking Dustin’s hands away from the leather.
“Henderson, I swear to God, I’m gonna kick your ass to the curb,” He threatens, but there’s no real bite in his tone.
Dustin grumbles under his breath, sinking back into his seat with his arms crossed tightly over his chest. Steve turns towards you, his face losing it’s playful annoyance and morphing into something softer.
“Y’want anything, babe?”
“Yeah, I’ll take a pack of Twizzlers!” Dustin quips from behind you guys.
You stifle a laugh while Steve grimaces, sending a deadly side eye to his best friend in the back seat.
You control your laughter to smile at him and shake your head. “I’m good, thank you,”
Steve smiles back, nodding once before snagging his wallet and rushing out of the car and into the store. You and Dustin make small conversation while he’s gone, talking about the campaign and some stupid idea the other guys in the club had that he immediately shut down.
It’s a few minutes when Steve emerges from the store with a bag in hand, and finishes pumping the gas. Steve grunts as he drops back into his seat, setting the bag down between you and him.
You barely notice as he rummages through it. There’s a pack of gum, a small blue Gatorade – his favorite – a pack of Twizzler’s and a full size Butterfinger chocolate bar – your favorite. Steve quickly tosses the pack of red vines to Dustin in the back and happily hand you the candy bar.
Dustin notices the way you light up at the sight of your favorite candy. You happily say your thanks before tearing the packaging open and taking a bite. Steve smiles and as fast as the moment happens, it’s over and Steve is driving away again.
It’s completely normal, a simple and insignificant moment none of you would even remember in a week but it sticks with Dustin. You hadn’t even asked for it, actually you declined the offer, but Steve still came back with something for you and you loved it. It was like he knew you better than you even knew yourself.
3.
The third time Dustin really noticed how far Steve would go for you was when Steve decided to take everyone out for breakfast – his treat, he said. It was as chaotic as every other moment and by the time everyone was barreling out of the car to get in the restaurant, Steve was threatening to never do it again.
Everyone knew he was lying.
Like always, Dustin noticed the way Steve jumped out of the car and jogged around to open the car door for you, even offering you his hand to help you out. Dustin watched Steve hold the door of the restaurant open, sticking his arm out to thud against Will’s chest when he tried entering before you. And he noticed when he pulled out the table chair for you, gently pushing you toward the table once you sat comfortably and then taking the seat beside you.
Every movement of his was easy and casual – like it was as instinctual to him as breathing was.
Within twenty minutes of ordering, the food began to come out and settle across the table. Steve was one of the first to get his plate, but Dustin noticed how he didn’t even lift a fork until your plate was sitting in front of you.
Today, you had decided to try something new. Instead of your usual order, you took the waitresses recommendation of the special – some sandwich she raved about. You picked up one of the triangle halves and bit into it, and immediately regretted it.
While the waitress made it a point to really sell you on the sandwich, it was not good. Maybe that was harsh – it wasn’t disgusting, it was just filled with every condiment you hated. Even pickles were involved.
You had to physically stop yourself from spitting out the small bite you managed, but there was no stopping the sour look on your face.
And of course, Steve noticed. He paused mid fry and turned towards you.
“You don’t like it?” His brows are pulled together, a small frown forming on his face at the sight of your discomfort.
You quickly shake your head. “No, no, it’s good!” You lie.
Steve didn’t even try to make it seem like he believed you before he was lifting his plate and switching it with yours.
“You can have mine,” He said.
“Steve, it’s okay really,” You tried to protest, but he wasn’t having it.
“Don’t worry about it, I love these kinds of sandwiches,” He reassures. Your gaze softens and you glance down at the food Steve ordered.
A perfectly made cheeseburger, just the way you like it. It practically taunts you. You’re a big girl, you should be able to eat what you ordered even if you don’t like not. You shouldn’t inconvenience your boyfriend.
But that burger looks so good.
Steve gently nudges your shoulder, gesturing towards the plate and you cave.
Dustin watches the entire interaction across the table and how your shoulders immediately loosen once you take your first bite. Steve seems happy enough now that you’re eating and takes his own first bite of the sandwich.
He doesn’t seem to mind the switch, but a part of Dustin wonders if Steve ordered the cheeseburger the way you liked it just in case.
4.
You, Robin and Dustin were hanging out at Steve’s house while you all waited for his shift at Family Video to be over. There was a rerun of an old 70s movie playing, and Robin is watching intently when Dustin asks if you can help him make some popcorn.
You’re barely halfway into unwrapping the bag when Steve gets home. You both glance up at the sound of keys jingling and the unmistakable feeling of his presence. Your smile is wide at the sight of him, a few grocery bags in one hand and the other holding a bouquet of pink tulips.
Your favorite.
Steve makes his way further into the kitchen, setting down the bags and holding the bouquet towards you. Dustin watches as you both mirror the same smile, easily falling into place against each other.
“Thought you might like these,” He murmured, raising his free hand to push a strand of hair from your face. Your eyes were glowing as you admired the flowers in his hand, a gleeful smile on your face.
“I love them!” You gushed, looking back up at him. Steve’s smile widened and Dustin was sure he could see his heart grow three sizes in his chest.
This wasn’t the first time Steve bought you flowers. In fact, he did it quite often. If he passed them in the grocery store, a new bouquet was coming home with him. If you had a rough day, he cheered you up with some daisies. If you had a great day, he was celebrating it with some roses.
He didn’t care if he ‘wasted money’ on things that would inevitably die. You loved flowers and he knew it, and he would do anything to make you happy.
Dustin couldn’t stop staring at you two in front of him, so lost in each other but then Steve suddenly remember he was also there.
“Hey, Henderson. You good?”
All he could do was nod.
5.
The last time it really hit him was when Dustin asked Steve if he could drive him to a study hall across town. He agreed, of course, but Dustin was surprised to see you weren’t already with Steve. When he asked about it, Steve just mentioned how you offered to babysit Holly for Mrs. Wheeler.
The ride was smooth, some light conversation and normal teasing but as Dustin glanced over to Steve, his eye caught on the two pictures resting against his dashboard. One was a black and white photo strip, you and Steve posed in various ways together, from the movie theater photobooth. The other was a polaroid photo of you by yourself – wearing a pink dress, sitting atop a blanket in the grass and smiling sweetly into the camera.
It was the perfect capture of your and Steve’s relationship, and also the way Steve saw you – gross and in love together and so effortlessly beautiful on your own. But something else tugged at his chest. The way these pictures were placed tightly behind the dashboard and perfectly in view for Steve only.
It was his way of having you with him when you weren’t around, even if no one else saw. Something just for him.
Steve interrupted his thoughts as he began talking about some rude customer interaction he had earlier that morning, but Dustin wouldn’t stop thinking of every moment he noticed between you and Steve – and how he worried so much about not having a good role model when he had the best one right in front of him.
Later that evening, you and Robin met up with him and Steve back at Steve’s place. The four of you were sitting around the living room, talking about everything and anything. You and Steve sat next to each other on the smaller couch and Robin and Dustin sat across from each other on the longer one.
Robin was explaining how she embarrassed herself in front of Vickie when Dustin noticed Steve whisper in your ear.
“Want some ice cream?” He asked, and you nodded excitedly at his suggestion. You loved ice cream, so why not offer it?
Steve pressed a quick kiss to your temple before wandering off to the kitchen.
Now was his chance, Dustin thought.
After Steve dropped him off at his study hall, he’d been racking his brain on how to ask Steve about it. His stomach was in knots. Not because he thought Steve would make fun of him, but what if even after his advice, he still failed?
Shoving all his negative thoughts down, Dustin followed Steve into the kitchen. He stood in the doorway, fiddling with the ring on his finger. Steve was moving across the kitchen, grabbing two bowls from the cabinet and then the ice cream from the freezer.
“Hey, Steve?”
Steve looked up from the tub of ice cream, scooper halfway in. “What’s up, man?”
Dustin made his way further into the kitchen, his nerves running rampant.
This is Steve. You can talk to Steve. He gave you your first can of Farrah Fawcet spray for God’s sake.
“Can I ask you something? Like .. something serious,”
Steve stilled then. He stood up straighter and placed the ice cream scooper down on the countertop. “Go for it,”
Dustin hesitated before finally, he asked. “How did you know how to .. be like that. With her?”
Steve’s brows furrowed, head tilting at his friend. “What d’you mean?”
Dustin felt like maybe he should let it go. Pretend like he didn’t even know what he meant and changed the subject but something in Steve’s eye made him feel like he genuinely wanted to understand. So he continued.
“I mean, the way you are,” He begins. “You open her doors, buy her snacks and flowers, and stuff. You even give her your food if she doesn’t like hers,”
Steve blinks.
He knew he did those things but he also didn’t notice every time, much less that Dustin was noticing too. He was also curious as to why he was asking.
Steve was quiet for a moment and he thought about what Dustin was really asking him.
“I didn’t always know,” He confesses.
That makes Dustin perk up. If Steve could learn, so could he. When Steve noticed his reaction, he continued.
“Yeah, I mean, she didn’t exactly come with an instruction manual,” He joked, pulling a small smile from the younger boy. “But I paid attention. It’s polite to open doors for your girlfriend and I like seeing her smile so if buying her flowers or switching my dinner with her does that, then I don’t mind,” He shrugs and starts scooping the ice cream again.
He says it like it’s the most obvious thing in the world, and the easiest decision for him to make. He heard what Steve said, it’s all about making her happy but what if he can’t do that? What if he fails once and never gets back up?
“Yeah but how?” He questions again. “What if you mess up or do the wrong thing?”
Steve softens and slowly, begins to piece things together. Dustin had mentioned his growing crush on Suzie and Steve realized it wasn’t just curiosity making him ask these questions, but his own way of getting as much information as possible so he can do it himself.
“Sometimes I do, Henderson,” Steve says gently. “But when I do, I listen to her and I own it. And I make sure I don’t do it again,”
Dustin seems to accept his answer and swallows hard.
“I guess I just.. I don’t wanna mess things up with Suzie, you know?”
In that moment, Dustin looks so small to Steve. He’s no longer the 13 year old kid he met in high school, he’s now the same age Steve was when they met – but in this moment, he looks 13 again and he’s asking his best friend in the world for advice. Steve doesn’t wanna let him down.
“Hey, man, you’re not gonna mess anything up, alright?” He assured Dustin. “You asking proves you’re already doing better than I did when I was your age, and look at me now,” Dustin smiles at that.
“You think so?”
“Yeah, man,” Steve nods and watches Dustin’s shoulders loosen just a bit. “You really like Suzie then, huh?”
Dustin smiles wider. “Yeah, I do.”
“Then all the advice you need is this,” Steve says. “Be kind to her, pay attention. You don’t have to buy her things but let her know you’re always thinking about her. Just be there for her, alright?”
Dustin grinned at his best friend and gone was all his worries, washed away with the advice he gave him. He could do that, he knew he could and he would. He was gonna ask Suzie out tomorrow and he was gonna make sure he was the best damn boyfriend out there.
Steve smiled at the new expression Dustin wore. “Now come on, my girls waiting on her ice cream,”
Dustin nodded, moving to help him carry the bowls back into the living room where you sat. Sure enough, Steve handed you your bowl first and watched you took a bite, making sure it was perfect before he took a bite of his own.
Dustin knew then he could have his own true and pure love because there was proof in front of him. You and Steve, the epitome of unconditional love.
synopsis : before marching off to battle, steve realises he needs to make a very important confession to his best friend in the whole world. based on season 4 but THIS PHOTO OF STEVE HAS ME FEELING FUNNY FUNNY FEELINGS
notes : usual dark stranger things shit, end of the world angst.
a/n : my deep love for steve is back
ps : would love to hear your comments!! and just generally more interaction 🩷
Family Video is loud in the way it always is now—walkies crackling, tapes slamming back into plastic cases, Robin talking at a speed that feels physically impossible. You lean against the counter, twisting the strap of your little bag around your fingers, watching Steve do that thing where he tries to be everywhere at once.
“Steve,” Dustin’s voice squawks through the walkie, “tell Robin the cables are not color-coded correctly.”
“They absolutely are,” Robin yells back without looking up.
Steve winces, presses the walkie to his chest, and mouths sorry at you.
You smile. Automatically. It’s muscle memory at this point.
“Hey,” he finally says, sliding back over to you when there’s a lull that lasts approximately twelve seconds. “You okay?”
“Yeah. I just-” You hesitate, then push through it. “Do you wanna do dinner tonight? Like, just us. Maybe at the diner? We haven't hung out in so long”
His face brightens instantly. “Yeah, that sounds-”
“Steve!” Robin snaps. “Keith says if we close late again he’s docking our pay.”
“And I still don’t have a ride!” Dustin adds.
Steve groans, scrubbing a hand down his face. He looks back at you, apologetic already. “Okay, uh- what time were you thinking?”
“Whenever you’re done,” you say, soft. You don’t say if you’re done. You never do.
He checks the clock. Then the door. Then the walkie. “Maybe… eight? No—wait—actually Dustin needs me after, and Robin’s stuck till close, so maybe later? Or—” He trails off, clearly trying to rearrange the universe in his head.
“It’s fine,” you say quickly. “We can rain check.”
His shoulders drop in relief, even as guilt flickers across his face. “I promise we’ll do it soon. I just need to—”
“I know,” you say. You always know. “You’re busy.”
Steve gives you a crooked smile, the kind that used to mean sneaking out after dark or sharing fries in his car. “You’re the best.”
You nod, stepping back as Robin barrels between you with a stack of tapes. “Yeah,” you murmur. “I know that too.”
As you head for the door, the bell jingles overhead. Steve watches you go, something thoughtful settling behind his eyes—like he’s only just realizing how often you’ve been standing there, waiting for him to have the time, just like you always had since you guys were six years old.
And you walk out into the evening, wondering when soon will finally mean tonight.
*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･
You finally make it past planning.
It feels monumental, honestly.
Steve’s leaning against the counter at Family Video, quieter than usual, twisting a pen between his fingers while Robin reorganizes tapes that are already alphabetized. The store is calm, eerily so, and you’re halfway convinced this is the universe throwing you a bone.
“So,” Steve says, trying to sound casual and failing just a little. “Lunch. Today. No rain check.”
You raise an eyebrow. “You sure? No walkies exploding? No children in distress?”
He huffs out a laugh. “Dustin’s at school. Robin’s on late shift. I’ve got, like- ” He checks his watch. “An actual two-hour window.”
You grin before you can stop yourself. “Wow. I feel special.”
“You always are,” he says automatically, then freezes like he’s said too much. He clears his throat. “I mean - yeah. You know.”
You don’t tease him. Instead, you say, “There’s that place with the little dance floor. The one with the jukebox.”
He lights up. “The one that plays Sinatra?”
“And Dire Straits,” you add. “It’s stupid.”
Steve smiles anyway. “I like stupid.”
For a second, you let yourself imagine it : music crackling through old speakers, his hand awkward at your waist, both of you laughing because neither of you really knows how to dance but you’d try anyway. You know there’s a chance he’d get distracted, pulled away, caught up in something else.
And you go anyway. You always do.
The bell over the door slams open.
Max barrels in first, eyes wild, ponytail half-falling out. Dustin’s right behind her, breathless, panic written all over his face.
“Steve,” Dustin says, voice cracking. “We need you.”
The air shifts instantly.
Steve straightens, all softness gone, replaced by that familiar alertness. “What’s wrong?”
“It’s Eddie,” Max says. “He’s missing. And everyone thinks he-”
Steve doesn’t let her finish. He grabs his jacket without even looking at you. “Okay. Okay. Where?”
Your stomach drops.
“Hey,” you say, quietly. Not demanding. Not stopping him. Just… there.
He turns, realization hitting him like a punch. His eyes flick to the clock. To you. To the future that was supposed to start in about fifteen minutes.
“I’m so sorry,” he says. “I swear I didn’t know this would-”
“I know,” you say again, because it’s still true. “Go.”
He hesitates, torn, like maybe this time he’ll choose differently.
But Dustin’s shaking. Max looks like she might cry. And Steve has always been the kind of person who runs toward the mess. Who protects his kids.
“Lunch?” he says, hopeful and helpless all at once.
You manage a smile. “Rain check.”
They’re gone in a rush of noise and urgency, the door slamming shut behind them.
You’re left standing in the quiet Family Video, jukebox plans dissolving into nothing, the dance that never happens echoing in your chest.
You’d known there was a chance.
You just didn’t think it would hurt this much : right before everything falls apart.
*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･
The car is too loud.
Dustin’s talking a mile a minute from the backseat, Lucas keeps cutting in with logistics, Max is staring out the window like she’s daring the world to look back at her, and Robin’s rattling off theories she hasn’t fully thought through yet. Nancy’s quiet, but it’s the sharp kind of quiet—planning, calculating.
Steve grips the steering wheel harder than necessary.
He’s driven this road a hundred times. Knows every dip and curve. Lovers Lake is burned into his muscle memory, bonfires, cheap beer, dumb laughter, a whole different lifetime. Now it feels like the road is narrowing, pressing in.
And then there’s you.
You’re in the passenger seat, hands folded tight in your lap, jaw set just a little too firmly. You’re listening, really listening, nodding at the right moments, asking the right questions. You’re being useful. Brave. Calm.
Too calm.
Steve knows you better than anyone in this car. Better than he knows himself, sometimes. He grew up with you. Learned your tells back when fear meant scraped knees or missed curfews, not… this.
You blink too much when you’re anxious. Keep your shoulders squared like if you loosen them, something might spill out.
He glances at you again, quick, then back to the road.
She’s scared, he thinks.
And she’s pretending she’s not for us.
The realization hits him harder than any monster ever has.
He wants- stupidly, selfishly - to pull over. To find some quiet little place, cut the engine, let the noise fall away. He can picture it too clearly: you both sitting on the hood, sharing something to drink just to steady your hands, your shoulder brushing his like it’s always done. Like it’s never meant anything more.
And that’s the problem.
Because lately—no, longer than lately—every almost feels like a mistake he keeps making.
He thinks about all the times you’ve waited while he ran headfirst into chaos. How you never asked him to choose. How you just stayed. How that scares him more than anything Hawkins has thrown at them.
Steve swallows.
Don’t, he tells himself. Don’t think it. Don’t ruin it.
He looks at you again. This time you catch him.
“You okay?” you ask quietly, voice just for him, like you’re still kids in the front seat of his car, the rest of the world faded out.
He nods too fast. “Yeah. Yeah, I’m good.”
You study him for a second—then, gently, you reach over and rest your hand on his forearm. Just a grounding touch. Nothing dramatic. Nothing that anyone else would notice.
It wrecks him.
His heart stutters, words crowding his throat, dangerous and tender and true. The kind of words you don’t get to take back. The kind that could change everything when everything is already about to break.
He opens his mouth.
Then Dustin says something frantic from the backseat, and the moment shatters.
Steve keeps driving.
Keeps his eyes on the road.
Keeps the stupid, beautiful, terrifying words locked safely inside his chest : right where they can’t hurt you. Not yet.
*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･
The water is colder than Steve expects.
It knocks the breath out of him as soon as he hits the surface, shock slicing through adrenaline. He swims hard anyway, arms burning as he cuts toward the gate, boots dragging him down. Above, the sky is wrong—bruise-dark, cracked with that familiar, awful red.
He doesn’t think. That’s how he survives.
Until something slams into him from the side.
The demobat shrieks, claws tangling in his chest, wings beating into his face. Steve goes under, choking, the world reduced to thrashing limbs and noise and pain. It latches on, sharp, brutal, and he can’t get leverage, can’t breathe, can’t-
Then the weight is gone.
Air explodes back into his lungs as hands grab his shoulders, hauling him up. You land beside him, soaked and wild-eyed, fury written clear across your face.
“Steve - move!”
You don’t hesitate. You yank the bat off him with both hands, momentum carrying you back as it screeches and snaps. You shove it off of him, eyes flittering toward the gate, putting yourself between him and it like it’s instinct, like it’s always been.
“Go!” you yell.
Something in Steve breaks open.
He sees you swing - desperate, untrained, fearless. Sees the bat lunge again. Sees red flash as it catches him once more, pain flaring sharp and hot, but he barely registers it because-
You’re still there.
Still fighting. Still choosing him.
He roars, something feral tearing out of his chest, and lunges back in to the fight. The world narrows to survival- hands, teeth, the upside down, noise. When it’s over, when the bat finally goes still, Steve is shaking so badly he can’t tell if it’s cold or shock or the afterburn of terror.
He stumbles towards you.
You get to him first.
Your arms wrap around him, tight and grounding, like you’re holding him together by sheer force of will. His knees threaten to give out, and you brace him without thinking, forehead pressed to his shoulder, breath coming fast.
“I’ve got you,” you say, voice wrecked but steady. “You’re okay. I’ve got you.”
And that’s when he realizes it.
Not in a dramatic way. Not like lightning.
It’s quiet. Solid. Unmovable.
Even with blood in his mouth, even with pain radiating through his side, even with the Upside Down screaming around them—this feels right. You holding him. Him letting you. The panic easing only when your arms are there.
And though it’s just a line, he thinks distantly, for me, it’s true.
He clutches the back of your jacket, grounding himself in you like a lifeline.
It has never felt so right before.
*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･
Eddie’s van smells like metal and sweat and fear, but it’s solid. Real. When you tumble through the portal and hit the floor hard, the world rights itself just enough for your hands to start shaking.
You don’t think you've regained cosmic consciousness until you’re in the Wheeler basement.
The others scatter—voices overlapping, plans forming, adrenaline still buzzing—but you steer Steve toward the couch without a word. He lets you. That alone feels heavy with meaning.
“Sit,” you say gently, already grabbing the first aid kit.
He sinks down, hissing as the movement pulls at his side. There’s dried blood on his shirt, darker now, almost black. Seeing it makes something cold settle in your chest.
You kneel in front of him.
Steve watches you like he’s afraid you might disappear if he looks away.
“I’m fine,” he says automatically.
You shoot him a look. “You got bitten by a bat from another dimension.”
“…fair.”
You clean the wound slowly, carefully, like this is something sacred. Your fingers are steady now, practiced. You’ve always been good in emergencies—good at holding it together when everyone else falls apart.
Steve notices everything.
The way you bite the inside of your cheek when you concentrate. The way you blow lightly against the skin before pressing the gauze down, like it might soften the pain. The way your touch lingers half a second longer than necessary.
He’s thought about this moment a thousand times—late at night, lying awake, rehearsing what he’d say if it were just the two of you. Clever lines. Brave ones. Ones that would finally make the meaning come true.
I love you.
I always have.
Please don’t leave.
But now that you’re here, now that it’s quiet and real and you’re kneeling between his knees with blood on your hands because of him—every word feels too fragile to survive being spoken.
You finish wrapping the bandage and sit back on your heels.
For a second, neither of you moves.
The basement hums softly around you. Muffled voices upstairs. The distant sound of a car passing. Normal life, intruding gently.
“You scared the hell out of me,” you say quietly.
Steve exhales a shaky laugh. “Yeah,” he admits. “Me too.”
Your eyes meet his.
Something hangs there, unspoken, heavy, aching. He can feel it in his chest, pressing up against his ribs, begging to be let out. He almost says it. He almost ruins everything by saying something stupid and beautiful and true.
Instead—
You lean forward and pull him into you.
Not rushed. Not desperate. Just… sure.
Steve freezes for half a second before his arms come around you, tight and instinctive, like his body knows this is where it’s supposed to be. He tucks his face into your shoulder, breathing you in, grounding himself in the fact that you’re warm and real and here.
You hold him like you’re afraid if you don’t, he’ll slip through your fingers.
It’s the most intimate thing he’s ever felt.
No words. No witnesses. Just the two of you, pressed together in the quiet, both of you thinking the same thing—
Not yet.
But soon.
*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･
The RV hums beneath them, heavy with weapons and nerves and too many people pretending they aren’t terrified.
Steve’s driving. Nancy’s in the passenger seat, shotgun resting between her knees, eyes forward but mind clearly somewhere else. The road stretches out in front of them, dark and uncertain, and for once no one’s filling the silence.
Steve clears his throat.
“I used to think,” he says, staring at the road, “that I wanted… I don’t know. The big stuff. Parties. Being important.”
Nancy glances at him. Says nothing. Lets him keep going.
“But now?” He exhales. “I think I just want a house. Kids. Loud ones. 6 little nuggets. Like, too loud. A dog. Dinner at the same time every night.”
He laughs under his breath, a little embarrassed. “It’s stupid.”
“It’s not,” Nancy says softly.
He nods, but his eyes drift : not to her.
To you.
You’re sitting cross-legged on the floor, Max’s head resting in your lap. One of your hands is carding gently through her hair, slow and steady, like you’re anchoring her to the present. Kate Bush still. blasting in her ears. Max’s eyes are closed, face drawn but calmer than she’s been all day.
Lucas sits close, tense but watching you like you’re a promise. Dustin’s rambling nervously, Erica firing back with sharp remarks that barely hide her fear, and you answer them all. Quiet reassurances. Small smiles. Steady touch. Even Eddie seems calmer with you around.
“It’s gonna be okay,” you murmur, thumb brushing Max’s temple. “I’ve got you.”
Steve’s chest tightens.
That, he thinks. That’s it.
Not the words. Not the dream. This.
You don’t even know he’s watching, and somehow that makes it worse. You’re not performing kindness. You’re just… being you. The way you always have been. The way you were with scraped knees and broken hearts and now with monsters and grief and children who shouldn’t have to be this brave. Who lean on you and you open your arms wide enough to temporarily swallow up the darkness.
Nancy follows his gaze.
Oh.
She sees it then, the way his eyes soften, the way his grip on the steering wheel loosens just a little, like looking at you makes the world manageable again.
“Steve,” she says quietly.
He blinks, refocuses. “Yeah. Sorry.”
There’s a beat. Then he says, casual like it just occurred to him, “Hey, do you mind switching with her for for a bit? I think… she might feel better up here.”
Nancy looks at him for a long second. She always knew you'd be good for him.
Then she nods. “Yeah. Sure.”
She stands, carefully stepping back through the RV. Lucas shifts, Dustin scoots, Erica grumbles, and suddenly Nancy’s sitting on the floor with them, Max still cradled safely, nothing really changing except,
You look up.
“Oh!” You glance toward the front. “You need me to—?”
“Yeah,” Steve says, too quickly. Then softer. “If you don’t mind.”
You don’t mind.
You ease Max’s head into Lucas’s lap, give her one last gentle stroke, then make your way forward. The space feels smaller when you slide into the passenger seat beside him. Quieter. Charged.
Steve keeps his eyes on the road. You buckle in.
For a moment, neither of you speaks.
Then you say, gently, “You okay?”
He nods. “Yeah. I just—” He risks a glance at you. “I’m glad you’re here.”
You smile, small and real. “Me too.”
Steve swallows, heart thudding, hands steady now for the first time all day.
The RV keeps moving forward.
And for once, so does he.
*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･
The RV rolls on, headlights cutting through the dark. Outside, the sky has gone that strange Hawkins shade, stars dimmed, clouds tinged red like the world’s holding its breath. Inside, the noise has softened. The kids’ voices are lower now. Max is quiet. The engine hums steady beneath everything.
You’re close enough that Steve can smell your perfume—familiar, grounding, threading straight through his chest. It hits him all at once, sharp and overwhelming, like now. Like this is the moment he’s been waiting for without ever admitting it.
He exhales.
“If we make it through this,” he says, voice low, careful, “I really need to talk to you.”
You turn to him. Not teasing. Not brushing it off. Eyes soft with something too intimate to name.
“Okay,” you say softly. “Yeah. Me too.”
The silence that follows isn’t awkward. It’s full. Heavy with years.
Steve lets out a small laugh, eyes still on the road. “Do you remember that time we played hide and seek in the old Smith house?”
You blink, surprised, and then you smile despite yourself. “The abandoned one?”
“Yeah,” he says. “You climbed that stupid bookshelf.”
“It was a great hiding spot,” you protest.
“You fell,” he reminds you, gentler now. “Split your knee open. There was blood everywhere.”
You shrug. “I was fine.”
“You were not fine,” he says immediately, heat flaring in his voice the same way it always has when it comes to you. “I thought you’d broken something. I started yelling for my mom like an idiot.”
You laugh quietly. “You carried me all the way home. Wouldn’t even let me walk.”
Steve swallows. “I remember thinking- ” He stops himself, shakes his head. “Never mind.”
You wait.
“I remember thinking I’d never let that happen again,” he finishes. “Like it was my job. Even then.”
The road stretches on. The stars burn faint and red above them. The night feels impossibly blue, deep and endless.
You look at him the way you’ve always looked at him : like he’s your home. “We’ve always taken care of each other,” you say. “This is just… a bigger version of that.”
Steve’s chest aches.
Because that’s the thing. He’s practiced this moment a thousand times in his head—waiting for the evening to get late, for it to be just the two of you, for the timing to be perfect.
And it is.
God, it is.
The words sit right there, bright and terrifying and true. He almost says them. Almost ruins everything by saying something stupid and beautiful and irreversible.
He grips the steering wheel instead.
“I just—” he starts, then stops, breath hitching. “I don’t want to mess this up.”
You reach over and rest your hand on his arm, thumb brushing lightly against his sleeve. “You won’t,” you say, certain. “Not us.”
Steve nods, blinking hard, heart pounding.
Not yet, he tells himself. But soon.
The RV keeps moving through the dark : years of history riding quietly between you, waiting for the moment he finally lets the words out.
The road keeps unfurling ahead of him, dark and endless, the RV’s headlights carving a narrow truth through it. Steve drives like he always does when he’s thinking too hard, steady, careful, knuckles pale on the wheel.
You’re quiet beside him now, not because there’s nothing to say, but because it feels like anything spoken wrong might break the shape of the moment.
“You remember,” he says after a while, voice softer than before, “that summer after we turned 7?”
You smile faintly. “Which disaster?”
He huffs. “The pool one. When I thought I was gonna drown.”
“You panicked,” you say, fond. “Flailing everywhere.”
“I was dying,” he insists, then sighs. “And you jumped in without even thinking.”
You shrug. “You were yelling my name. From that massive pool you have.”
Steve swallows. He remembers the way you’d surfaced beside him, hair plastered to your face, hands firm on his shoulders. The way your voice cut through the water, calm and certain, telling him to breathe. How afterward you sat at the edge of the pool, feet dangling, laughing like it was nothing - like you hadn’t just steadied his entire world.
“I’ve always felt like,” he says slowly, choosing each word, “whenever I lose my footing… you’re already there.”
You turn toward him then. Really look at him.
“And you’ve always run toward me,” you say. “Even when you shouldn’t have.”
The memory of scraped knees. Of you crying in his backseat after your first real heartbreak. Of late-night phone calls that never needed a reason. Of him standing in front of you, again and again, like the world could be negotiated with if he just stood firm enough.
“I don’t think I ever learned how not to,” he admits.
The RV rattles softly. Somewhere behind you, someone shifts in their sleep.
“I used to think,” you say, voice barely above the hum of the engine, “that we’d just… always be like this. Side by side. And that that was enough.”
Steve’s chest tightens. “And now?”
You hesitate. He hates that - hates that he’s the reason you hesitate.
“Now I think,” you say, carefully, “that pretending it hasn’t meant more might be the thing that hurts the most.”
He risks a glance at you.
Your face is lit by passing streetlight, eyes reflective, unguarded. The stars outside glow red and distant, like witnesses. The night feels impossibly intimate, like it’s leaning in to listen.
Steve’s heart is loud in his ears.
“I’ve loved you in a lot of quiet ways,” he says before he can stop himself. Then he laughs under his breath, breathless. “See? This is why I practice. Because I never say it right.”
You smile, something tender and warm and real. “You’re saying it fine.”
He exhales, relief and terror tangled together.
“I just—” He shakes his head. “I don’t want this to be another thing I was too scared to reach for.”
You don’t answer with words. You just let your shoulder rest more fully against his arm, a gentle weight, a reminder of how long you’ve fit here.
Steve drives on, heart full to the breaking point, knowing - finally knowing - that when he does say the words out loud, they won’t be stupid at all.
They’ll just be true.
*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･
Hawkins doesn’t look like Hawkins anymore.
The school gym smells like antiseptic, dust, and something burned that no one wants to name. Cots line the walls where pep rallies used to happen. Boxes of donated clothes are stacked where lockers once stood. People move around in soft, stunned motions, like they’re afraid the ground might split open again if they step too hard.
Steve drops another box near the entrance and straightens slowly, muscles aching in places he didn’t know could ache. Robin’s arguing with a volunteer about sock sizes. Nancy’s making lists that keep smudging because her hands won’t stop shaking.
And you?
You’re kneeling beside a little girl, helping her tug on a hoodie that’s two sizes too big. You smile at her, reassuring, gentle, like the world didn’t almost end. Like you haven’t spent the last day watching Max lie unconscious in a hospital bed, machines breathing for her.
Steve watches you longer than he means to.
You’ve been holding it together all day. For everyone. For Max’s mom. For Lucas. For strangers who don’t know your name but cling to your voice like its hope, like it’s proof things might be okay.
He waits until you stand and turn, arms full of blankets, before he moves.
“Hey,” he says quietly.
You look exhausted. Still, your face softens when you see him. “Hey.”
He doesn’t know how to ask. He just gestures with his head toward the empty hallway off the gym, where the noise dulls into something manageable.
You follow him without a word.
The hallway is dim, lit by emergency lights that buzz faintly. There’s a cracked trophy case at the end—Hawkins High, frozen in time. Steve stops there, leaning back against the wall like his legs have finally decided they’re done.
You hesitate for half a second.
Then you step into him.
It’s not rushed. Not desperate. You just… fit. Like magnets finding their pull. His arms come around you instinctively, one hand pressing into the small of your back, the other cradling your neck. You bury your face into his chest, breathing him in like you’ve been holding your breath for days.
Steve closes his eyes.
The world quiets.
Your hands clutch the back of his shirt, fingers curling tight like you’re afraid if you loosen your grip, reality will rush back in. He rests his chin against your hair, heart pounding slow and steady now, grounding both of you.
“You don’t have to be strong right now,” he murmurs.
Your breath shudders against him.
“I know,” you whisper. “I just… didn’t know where else to put it.”
He holds you tighter, like this is the answer. Like this is where it’s always gone.
You don’t cry, not really. It’s more like the weight finally redistributes, spreads evenly between the two of you instead of crushing you alone. Steve presses a kiss to the top of your head without thinking, reverent and sure.
Outside, Hawkins is broken. Max is still unconscious. Vecna isn’t truly gone. Nothing is fixed.
But here
in this narrow hallway, between cracked walls and flickering lights—
you merge into each other in the quiet, undeniable way of people who have survived something together.
And Steve knows, with a certainty that doesn’t scare him anymore:
Whatever comes next, you won’t face it apart.
*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･
The Harrington house is quiet, almost painfully so. Outside, the night stretches like a canvas, dark and infinite, the faint red glow of the stars bleeding through clouds that seem too heavy to hold themselves up. Everything feels suspended like the world is waiting for someone to finally say what’s been buried too long.
Steve sits on the edge of the couch, elbows braced on his knees, fingers interlaced tightly. His shirt is wrinkled, damp from the shower he took without thinking, hair sticking up in ways that make him look smaller, more vulnerable than he’s allowed anyone to see. Every muscle in his body hums with exhaustion, the kind that comes after running, after fighting, after losing and almost losing everyone you care about.
You come in quietly, the weight of the day heavy on your shoulders, hands smudged from bandages and disinfectant, hair mussed. Even in the chaos of survival, you are the same person you’ve always been, steady, grounding, impossibly alive. The air between you carries your perfume, soft and intoxicating, threading through his chest and making his heart pound like it’s trying to escape.
Steve looks up at you, and suddenly every memory, the scraped knees of childhood, the first time he carried you home crying from a hide-and-seek fall, the long nights of whispered secrets, of shared laughter, of silent longing, comes flooding back. All the stolen glances, the moments where he nearly said it, the moments where he knew you wanted him but were pining for someone else, the years he spent pretending to like Nancy because it was easier than admitting that everything he wanted was always you…
He swallows hard, the words lodged in his throat for so long, aching to be freed.
“I… I’ve been thinking,” he begins, voice low, tight. “Not just today… but all of it. Everything we’ve been through. Everything I’ve—” He cuts himself off, throat raw. “Everything I’ve wanted to say but… didn’t. I can’t do that anymore.”
You kneel beside him, carefully, like approaching something fragile. Your shoulder presses against his, a tentative weight that feels like home. “Steve,” you murmur, voice catching, “what is it?”
He closes his eyes for a second, remembering every time he’s looked at you and wanted to take you in his arms, every time he’s watched you stand beside him, strong and unafraid, wishing he could tell you it was always you he wanted. All those years of heartbreak, the helplessness of watching you while he fell for someone else, the ache of unspoken feelings, of nights lying awake imagining a world where he could say it without fear—everything converges in this moment.
“You,” he finally whispers. “It’s always been you. I—God, I’ve loved you for years. I wanted to say it so many times. I wanted to tell you when we were kids, when we were teenagers… every time you got hurt, every time I thought I could fix it if only I was brave enough to tell you… I’ve waited too long. I—”
His voice breaks, and he shakes his head. “I don’t care about timing anymore. I don’t care if it’s messy, if it’s stupid, if the world’s still upside down. I just… I love you. Always have. Always will.”
You feel it like a physical weight in your chest—the years of longing, the nights you spent pining quietly, pretending to want someone else because you thought it was safer than wanting him back, the heartbreak of watching him flirt with Nancy, all of it threading into this single, unbearable truth. Your eyes sting. Your hands shake. And you laugh softly, breathless, tears threatening, because after all this time, the words are finally here, and he’s finally saying them to you.
“You… you love me?” you whisper, voice cracking, almost afraid to speak, almost afraid that saying it will break the spell. “After all this time… you—”
He leans closer, forehead pressing to yours, breathing you in like you’ve been air and he’s been drowning. “I always loved you,” he murmurs. “I just… didn’t know how to stop waiting. Didn’t know if it was my place. But now… now I’m not waiting. I can’t. I won’t. You’re it. You’ve always been it.”
Your hands find his face, trembling, cupping him like he’s fragile, like he’s been waiting decades for this. And the walls you’ve both built, the years of fear and longing, collapse into each other as you lean in, lips brushing in a kiss that’s not hesitant, not tentative, but fierce and tender and desperate all at once.
Everything comes rushing at you—the relief, the joy, the heartbreak of years finally reconciled, the happiness you never let yourself have until now. The weight of Hawkins, the monsters, the chaos, the fights, the nights spent apart and almost apart—all of it rolls into this single, perfect, blazing moment.
Steve’s arms tighten around you, as if he’s never letting go. You cling to him, heart pounding, breath mingling, feeling every unspoken word, every stolen glance, every moment of quiet longing finally come alive.
“I love you,” you whisper finally, and the words are both confession and celebration, and you can’t stop the tears or the laugh that follows, trembling in his arms.
“I know,” he breathes back, voice raw and trembling, and for once, it’s enough.
The stars are red outside. The night is impossibly blue. But inside, in Steve’s arms, the world is finally right.
And all those years—the heartbreak, the pining, the waiting—suddenly feel worth it.
Steve leans closer, foreheads brushing, breaths mingling. The world shrinks to the two of you, quiet hum of the heater, faint creak of the floorboards, the distant, soft buzz of Hawkins settling into itself after the chaos. Nothing exists outside this room. Nothing exists outside this moment.
“I love you,” he breathes, as if saying it aloud makes the words real enough to survive the universe.
You laugh softly, tears pricking, trembling as you reach up, fingers tangling in his hair, thumb brushing over the line of his cheek. “I love you too,” you murmur, voice catching on every syllable.
And then—
He’s kissing you.
Slow. Unhurried. Deliberate. Every second drenched in years of longing, heartbreak, and unspoken devotion. His lips mold to yours like coming home after being lost in the dark, like finally breathing after holding it in for decades. Your hands tighten around him, one on his chest, the other in his hair, pulling him impossibly close.
It’s a little messy. It’s not desperate. It’s fierce. It’s tender. It’s laughter and relief and tears and trembling all at once. You taste him, finally, after years of wanting, and it’s everything you imagined, and somehow more.
He kisses you back with the same ferocity, the same reverence, like he’s trying to make up for every almost, every hesitation, every moment you’ve ever waited for him to choose you. And you melt into him, the world outside dissolving into the quiet certainty of finally, finally having each other.
His hand slides from the back of your head down your spine, pressing you flush against him. You let out a breathless laugh against his lips, shaky and raw, and he hums into it, a sound that’s all relief and worship and love.
Minutes, or maybe hours, pass in this sacred silence. Time stretches thin, then thick, folding around the two of you. Every heartbeat, every brush of skin, every stolen breath is electric. This is it: the culmination of every heartbreak, every whispered longing, every aching pause.
When you finally pull back, foreheads resting together, breaths mingling, eyes shining with tears and laughter, Steve murmurs, voice hoarse and full, “I’ve wanted this… forever.”
You smile against him, tears sliding down your cheeks. “Me too,” you whisper. “Forever.”
And for the first time in what feels like a lifetime, everything—every danger, every loss, every waiting, every heartbreak—is washed away in the quiet, shivering bliss of finally, truly, undeniably being together.
The world outside is still blue and bruised and chaotic. But here. Here in his arms, with his lips still brushing yours, with the warmth of his chest against yours, the night finally, finally feels like home.
*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･
a/n : this has been on my mind for a while!! might make steve x best friend! reader a series if enough of you are interested :) as always, likes, reblogs, comments, feedback are always appreciated!!
you didn't tell anyone that steve proposed, just sat and waited for any one of them to figure it out themselves.
dustin was the only one who knew he was going to do it soon, having been the one to sneak the ring back into his car a couple days before your date.
but, he didn't know when, and he certainly wasn't staring at your ring finger every day trying to figure it out.
the kids were playing dungeons and dragons downstairs, out of your hair while still in your house, and you were just hanging out with the olders in the living room, lounging while offering robin a casual, daily therapy session.
steve was half-laying on you as robin droned on about her situationship with vickie, repeating things you’d heard a million times. you tried to be a supportive friend, nodding along like you could relate. but, you couldn’t. steve was perfect, and you were marrying him.
not that they noticed or assumed.
“she doesn’t trust me,” robin sighed, running a hand through her hair as she shifted in the armchair, practically sitting on it sideways now from how much she’d moved around. “she’s being a little overbearing. and i get it - i spend a lot of time here, with you guys, and with the kids. but, i make time for her!”
“you’re always with her,” nancy said, knitting her brows in confusion.
jonathan and steve were entirely uninterested, both just slumped against their girls and staring at the ceiling or wall with peanut butter boppers in their hands. every so often, jonathan would silently mouth something to steve and they would snicker together, earning swift smacks from their girls before you went back to venting with robin.
“and if you’re not it’s for good reason,” you added with a hum, adjusting as steve laid himself completely over your lap and huffed like a child, tired of this conversation that he’d already heard at work a million times. “she knows she’s always invited over here too.”
“i told her that, but i think she’s intimidated to be honest,” robin sighed, flopping even more dramatically into her chair as her hand covered her face. “which is dumb.”
you exchanged a look with nancy, brows knitted.
“why?” she asked.
“well, not so much you two,” robin answered, waving to her and jonathan as your face screwed up in confusion and slight offense. her hand moved to gesture to you and steve. “you two.”
steve frowned. “what? why?”
“because!” she said like it was obvious, gesturing up and down to where he was comfortably laid across your lap, you fingers carding gently through his hair. “you’re you. steve the hair harrington and the badass woman who turned him into a domestic mush.”
you almost wanted to smile at that, but you were still hung up on vickie not wanting to come over. “we don’t make her feel welcome? robin, invite her over and-“
“no,” she said quickly, shaking her head. “no chance. if she sees how perfect your home life is too, she’ll be on my ass even more.”
steve smirked, exchanging a sly look with jonathan and mumbling, “i thought you liked that.”
all three of you girls glared at him, you smacking him across the back of his head as he just chuckled, squeezing your knee.
“we’re not perfect,” you told her, shaking your head. “for example, steve makes stupid comments and i’m forced to hit him and take away his dessert privileges.”
“hey!” he objected instantly, to which you just laughed and winked at him. he calmed, settling into your thighs again with a smug smile.
“see?” robin sighed dramatically. “perfect.”
you shook your head again. “we’re not perfect. even you guys have seen some of our arguments.”
jonathan laughed. “oh, yeah. like when steve got mad at you for going into his nightstand because you almost found-“
nancy smacked a hand over his mouth, robin's eyes widening as jonathan quickly shut up. they all watched you and steve, steve just turning his face into your thighs to conceal his amused smile and you feigning ignorance.
you knitted your brows as you tucked your left hand underneath steve's shoulder as casually as possible, looking to nancy and jonathan.
"i almost found what?" you egged, nodding once. "what did i almost find, jon?"
"nothing, really," nancy said for him, smiling encouragingly. "he was just going to joke about playboys, and i know you wouldn't think it was funny."
"right," you hummed, obviously unconvinced. "he was thinking about playboys."
robin cut in, her voice too anxious and eager as she laughed awkwardly, "of course he was. he's a guy. hell, even i think about playboys."
you nodded, looking to robin with a slight uncomfortable grimace. "what an interesting thing to say."
"no, i just mean-"
"he wasn't thinking of anything in particular?" you said before she could spiral, raising your brows at jonathan, who was struggling for a coverup. steve pushed himself up then, sitting at your side and taking your hand in his.
they were all at a loss, looking at steve apologetically before you raised your left hand.
"nothing like this?" you asked, grinning as steve let out a light laugh.
the gasps you got were your most favorite sound ever, nancy immediately standing up to take a look at it. you giggled, holding it out to her as robin stared at steve with wide eyes.
"you did it?" she asked in awe. "you asked her?"
"she said yes?" jonathan asked next, laughing as steve flipped him off.
"i said yes," you hummed, accepting a hug as nancy offered it.
"oh, i'm so excited for you guys!" she exclaimed as she returned to jonathan's side. "when are you thinking the wedding will be?"
you smiled, settling into steve's side as he tugged you back to lean into the cushions. "preferably after we're finished with this whole military quarantine," he said with a roll of his eyes.
"but, then your parents will come back," robin pointed out, brows knitting. "are you going to live with your parents as a married couple?"
"the basement is big enough," nancy said, shrugging.
admittedly, it was very normal for young married couples to live in their parents' basements until they had enough money for their own places. but, given that you and steve had basically been doing exactly for the entire extent of the quarantine, that didn't really apply.
"no, we'll find a place of our own," you told them. "some place that's really ours."
robin glanced around the room, a small, sad frown tugging at her lips. "this place is yours. i couldn't imagine this place not being yours."
"then, don't," steve said dryly, shrugging. "we have no idea how long we'll be stuck here, and then afterwards, we have no idea where we'll all end up. just let it be good now."
well, if you could frame a quote from steve, that would be it.
you glanced at him, a small smile forming on your lips as you nodded.
"yeah," you agreed. "just let it be good now. i like that."
the five of you sat in that thought for a few moments, gentle smiles on your lips as steve tugged you in to place a kiss on the top of your head.
and then, of course, that simple bliss was ruined by the children you all loved and somewhat adored.
"guys!"
lucas and dustin came running up the stairs, their footsteps loud and heavy as mike, will, and el trailed behind them at a much more normal pace. lucas sped into the room first.
"how hard would it be to convince you to order us pizza?" he asked, eyes finding yours on instinct before he suddenly faltered. he knitted his brows, looking around the room. "why does it feel like we just walked into something?"
"yeah," dustin agreed, nose scrunching as he looked at steve. "are you getting emotional? what's happening?"
"nothing," you chirped, sitting forward with a small smile. "i'll buy you guys pizza if you can answer me one question."
lucas grinned, glad the awkward tension was dissolved and excited at the pizza challenge. "ask it."
"what's different about me today?" you asked, smiling knowingly as you folded your hands in front of you, ring glittering in the sunlight streaming through the window.
they all stepped forward, brows knitting as they looked you over. you met el's eyes as she spotted the ring, a slow smile pulling at her lips as she opted to let the others figure it out first. the same happened to will as he moved to sit with nancy and jonathan, grinning to himself.
the first verbal sign you got wasn't half as enthusiastic as you would've expected. dustin gasped harshly, a low groan slipping out next as his eyes flicked between you and steve. mike's eyes widened as he realized where dustin's head was. "i swear, if you're pregnant-"
"oh my word, henderson," you sighed, head falling in your hands.
"we should just stop trying to surprise you with things," steve said with a frown. "stop assuming she's pregnant."
"stop putting things out there in a way that we can assume she's pregnant!" the boy answered.
steve went to rebuttal, but lucas' gasp cut him off.
he shot forward, pointing at you and grinning widely. "look!" he grabbed your hand, forcing you to pull your head up, and showed it to the other boys. "they're engaged!" he looked to you. "you said yes!"
dustin lit up, his eyes on steve. "you did it! you asked! she said yes!"
"you're engaged!" lucas yelled again as you nodded, laughing. he crouched to hug you and you smiled gently, squeezing him back as his arms wound tight around your middle. he murmured into your shoulder, eyes shut and voice a little tight, yet soft, "i'm so happy for you. this is, like, the only good thing to happen in a long time."
you ran a hand over his back, squeezing him gently. "thank you, lucas."
dustin and steve were doing their dumb little handshake, which you were actually glad to see since they hadn't done it in a long time, as you stood to give him a more full hug. when you released him, will and el came to you in an instant, mike joining purely because he didn't know what else to do.
"we're all very happy for you guys," robin said, smiling as she watched the boys tackle steve in a hug.
nancy patted jonathan's arm with a knowing smile, el fawning over your ring and murmuring, "i've never seen something so pretty. how did he get it?"
"murray, i guess," you said. "he did good, huh?"
"it looks great on her, hm?" steve said as he broke out of the boys' grasps, reaching for your hand with a grin. he held it up, showcasing the ring as you and el giggled, robin laughing in her chair. "my fiancé looks drop dead gorgeous in her ring."
a bright flash had you turning to jonathan, nancy sitting on the arm of the couch next to him with a bright smile as he pulled his camera back down. he shrugged. "it's a nice moment."
"aw, jonny's sentimental!" you cooed, giggling as he rolled his eyes.
"not a chance," he said.
"he always has been," will told you with a grin, jonathan smacking him in return.
lucas came to your side again, his smile too wide for your little heart to handle. "erica is gonna be so mad she wasn't here for this." he paused, smile softening into something half sad and half hopeful. "max is gonna be so excited when she hears..."
instantly, the room went solemn, the mention of your friend weighing heavy.
you wrapped your arm around lucas, hugging him with a small smile. "she's gonna love it. and when we get married, she'll be a bridesmaid," you glanced to el, nancy, and robin, "same with you three," you looked back to lucas with that fond smile, "and she'll look so pretty in her dress, and we'll all have the best time. yeah?"
he nodded, looking to you with a hard, quivering smile as he breathed out an agreement. "yeah."
"yeah, alright," you said, squeezing him once more before stepping towards the hallway. you glanced back at all of them. "now, you did answer my question correctly, so what kind of pizza do you want?"
they all lit up as lucas hung back with steve, calling out which toppings they want and following you to the phone in an effort to convince you to buy sodas too.
steve glanced sideways at the boy, offering him a gentle smile and a clap on the shoulder. "she'll wake up soon," he promised quietly. "and then in a couple years i can show you where i got that ring."
"was it expensive?" lucas asked with a grimace.
steve snorted. "you think we can afford expensive? she'd be pissed at me if i bought her an expensive ring than getting a smaller one that's just as pretty. no, we'll find you a good one for a good price. i've got you."
that thought seemed to brighten his mood a bit and he nodded. "i'll take you up on that. in a couple years, of course."
"well, yeah," steve said, scoffing. "we would never let you get married in high school. that's stupid." lucas laughed, agreeing before he let steve push him towards the kitchen so they could input their opinions on pizza. "c'mon, kid."
hehe more reader and lucas content coming soon bc you guys noticed i have a favorite and since steve gets dustin you get lucas ok YAY thanks for reading!!
I just desperately need to annoy Steve so much while he’s trying to do something, and be like so insanely irritating that anyone normal would get pissed off but he’s just the sweetest ever. Even though I’m harassing him every three seconds for another kiss or a hug. I love him so much
like yeah I’d just like to be his weird freak girlfriend who annoys him all the time…please
steve harrington x fem!reader, 0.6k words
“Steve.”
You poke Steve’s shoulder for the third time in the last two minutes. Steve sighs lovingly (if that’s even possible) from underneath the counter where he’s sorting video cases.
“What, baby?”
“I’m bored.”
Steve grunts, his shoulders tensing a bit. You can tell he’s starting to get annoyed but his tone is sweet as honey and patient as ever when he says, “I know. You’ve only told me ten times.”
You bite back a smile. “Can we go get milkshakes?”
“I’m working, sweetheart.”
Sweetheart, you think dizzily. The way he says it makes you feel giddy. You swing your legs where they’re dangling over the counter.
“There’s no one in here,” you reason. There hasn’t been all day. “It’s a ghost town. And Robin can watch the shop while we’re gone. Right, Robin?”
“Not a good idea!” Robin calls from the back room, the door half open and light spilling out on the carpet. “The place will be in flames within five minutes.”
You giggle while Steve mumbles something that sounds like an agreement. Silence falls again. You twist to look out the big glass windows. Out in the parking lot, there’s not a single sign of life to be seen.
“Steve,” you say again, this time prodding him in the bicep with the toe of your sneaker.
Steve sighs again. You didn’t realise it was humanly possible to make a sigh sound so sweet, so patient, but he makes it work somehow. He finishes what he’s doing and straightens up with a groan, rolling his shoulders as he comes face to face with you.
“What, honey?” He looks you in the eye, and you’re struck by how handsome he is. He pushes his hair back with one hand and you watch his bicep unabashedly. “Let me guess, you’re bored?”
You shake your head. You were, but now you’ve got a better idea. “No. I want a kiss.”
Steve raises an eyebrow. “A kiss.”
You nod. “Please?”
Steve just looks at you for a moment. You think he’s deciding whether to give you what you want or not, given the fact that you’ve been pestering him all morning. But both of you know he’s never been one to deny you what you want.
He shrugs. “M’kay. Whatever you want, babe.”
You smile, pleased, and tilt your chin up for a kiss. Steve doesn’t let you wait. He takes your chin in his hand and gently angles you so he can press his mouth to yours. He kisses you softly, lips warm and patient. You’re greedier, curling your fingers into his polo and taking your time tasting the flavour of him. When he pulls away he’s laughing.
“What’s so funny?” You ask primly.
He pokes you in the side, grinning lopsidedly. “You’re greedy. Don’t you know that sort of behaviour is inappropriate for the work place?”
You huff. “Stop being so handsome then.”
Steve gives you a suave sort of grin. But you don’t miss the blush creeping up from under his collar. “No can do, sweetheart,” he says.
He disappears beneath the counter again for a few seconds, then reemerges with a cardboard box in his arms.
“Wanna help me shelve the new stock?” He asks. “If we do it fast enough, we’ll have time to go get milkshakes on my break. You still want milkshakes, right?”
You nod and slide off the counter, pleased and a bit lovestruck. You decide to quit annoying him for the time being. You love him a bit too much right now to be anything but sweet to him.
synopsis: when steve stops answering your calls, you expect the worst. what you find instead is a sick, miserable boyfriend who insists he’s dying.
word count: 2k
warnings: sick fic, steve is a huge baby, worried!reader, mentions of sex, typical hawkins violence mentioned, fluff, illness and fever, caretaking, anxiety and worry, profanity, domestic intimacy, not proofread.
Steve Harrington never bailed.
Not on shifts at Family Video, not on movie nights, and not on you. He did not miss calls either, especially not yours. He was reliable to a fault, the kind of person who showed up even when the world was actively falling apart and interdimensional monsters were crawling out of the ground. If Steve was breathing, he was answering.
Which was why the silence felt wrong immediately.
At first, you told yourself it was nothing. He was probably stuck at work late, or Robin had roped him into some unnecessary crisis, or he had finally crashed after a long stretch of pretending life in Hawkins could be normal again.
You left a voicemail anyway telling him to call you back when he got the chance. Except he did not.
The next morning came and went without a word. He did not show up at Family Video. He did not swing by your house orsneak through your window with a grin and an excuse already prepared. He did not even call to say goodnight.
By the second day, the quiet had begun to crawl under your skin.
You called Robin first, trying to keep your voice casual, like you weren’t counting the hours since you’d last heard him breathe on the other end of the line.
Robin hadn’t seen him and neither had Dustin, who sounded more relaxed than worried and assured you Steve probably just needed space. Nancy hadn’t heard from him either, which finally made your stomach drop.
Forty eight hours passed with nothing. No calls, no messages, no sign of Steve at all.
By then, the worry had settled deep in a way you could not shake. Hawkins had taught you too well what silence could mean. Fights turned ugly. People got hurt. Gates opened where they were never meant to, and monsters followed.
That was when you stopped pacing, grabbed your jacket and keys, and left. The drive blurred past in a haze, every red light stretching your nerves thinner as you headed straight for his house.
Steve’s house looked the same when you pulled up, painfully ordinary in the late afternoon light. His car sat in the driveway, exactly where it always did. The sight of it sent a rush of relief through you, followed immediately by something sharper and more frightening.
If he was here, then why hadn’t he answered you?
You didn’t bother knocking. The front door was unlocked, just like always. The house was quiet in a way that made your chest ache, the air stale and heavy, as if it hadn’t been disturbed in days.
“Steve?” you called, your voice already tight with fear.
No answer.
You stepped inside anyway, your heart racing as you moved further into the house, every instinct screaming that something was wrong.
There is usually music playing somewhere, or the television running in the background, or Steve himself calling out when he hears the door. Now there is nothing. No lights on. No footsteps. Just the dull thud of your own heartbeat in your ears.
Your hand closes around the bat leaning against the wall by instinct more than logic. You hate how natural it feels, how easily fear slips into your grip.
You call his name once, softly, then again a little louder, but the house does not answer you back. The stairs creak under your feet as you climb them, your breath shallow, your mind racing through every worst case scenario you tried so hard not to think about on the drive over.
Steve’s door is half closed.
You push it open only to find him in bed.
The sight of him hits you so suddenly you almost forget to breathe. Steve is buried beneath a mound of blankets, hair a complete mess, pillows shoved wherever they fit. For one terrifying second you think he is asleep too deeply, until he shifts. A pair of tired brown eyes peek out at you.
“Baby,” he says hoarsely, blinking like he is trying to focus. “What are you doing here?”
He does not get another word out before his face scrunches up and he turns away, sneezing once, twice, then again in quick succession, loud and miserable.
“Bless you,” you say immediately.
He sniffs, rubs at his nose with the sleeve of his shirt, and squints up at you like the light itself is offending him.
You sit on the edge of the bed and pull the blankets back just enough to look at him properly. He looks ridiculous and adorable and very clearly sick. Your hand goes to his forehead, then to his cheek, cool skin contrasting with the heat you can feel underneath.
“Steve,” you say softly. “Why didn’t you tell me that you were feeling ill?”
His eyes soften immediately when he looks at you, even now. “Didn’t wanna worry you,” he says, though it comes out more like, didn’t wanna worr yew because of his stuffed nose.
You stare at him for a beat, then reach out and press the back of your hand gently to his forehead.
“You’re burning up,” you murmur, palm pressing gently to his forehead.
Steve barely reacts, only letting out a miserable little sound as he sinks deeper into the mattress. You shift closer without thinking, worry tightening in your chest as you take him in properly.
“Steve,” you say quietly, coaxing rather than scolding, “you can’t just… rot in bed like this.”
His face scrunches immediately, nose red and shiny, lips pulling into that pout that would look ridiculous on anyone else. On him, it’s infuriatingly cute. Endearing in a way that makes you want to kiss it and shake him at the same time.
“I’m not rottin’,” he mumbles thickly, voice clogged and slow. “I’m… restin’. ‘S cold and I’m sick. This is how people—” he sniffs hard, “—people die alone.”
You huff a quiet laugh despite yourself. “You have a fever and the sniffles. You’re not dying.”
He cracks one watery eye open to look at you. “That’s what they all say.”
You sigh, fingers already tugging the blanket down. “You need to get up and have a warm bath and actual food. Then you can get back in bed like a dying sick person.”
He opens his mouth to argue and sneezes instead three times in a row. “Bless you,” you say automatically between each sneeze.
You smile, even as the knot in your chest tightens. “That’s the fifth time in ten minutes, baby.”
“Not my fault,” he mutters, pushing himself upright with clear effort. “M’body’s turnin’ on me.”
“Which is why you gotta get out of bed and let me take care of you.”
“Don’t wanna.” He gets all stubborn as he pushes the blanket up.
You pull the blanket away and reach for the hem of his sweater and gently tug. “Come on, arms up.”
“If I take this off, I’m gonna freeze.”
“You’ll survive the walk to the bathroom,” you say dryly.
He pouts as you pull the sweater over his head, hair sticking up even worse than before. The sight makes your chest ache in the softest way. His nose is red, his eyes glassy, lashes clumped together slightly from sneezing so much.
“God,” you murmur without thinking, leaning in and pressing a quick kiss to his lips.
He flinches slightly.
You pull back, confused, until you see the way he is looking at you now, worried instead of sleepy. “Hey,” he says quietly, hands coming up to your sides. “I don’t want you getting sick from kissing me.”
You soften, thumb brushing over his cheek. “Steve, I’ve already been worried sick for two days. If I catch the flu, it’s probably happening anyway.”
He exhales, then pulls you closer instead, arms wrapping around you tight and warm. You laugh quietly as he buries his face against your shoulder.
“What do you want, hmm?” you ask, teasing gently, fingers combing through his hair.
He sighs, voice small and earnest. “I want love and affection.”
You smile, pressing your forehead to his. “I’m hugging you right now.”
He shakes his head, stubborn even like this. “Not enough.”
You laugh again, kissing his cheek this time, then his temple. “Okay. Deal. You go take a bath. I’ll make you something to eat and change the sheets. Then you get back in bed and I’ll give you all the love and affection in the world.”
He considers that for a moment, then nods solemnly. “Okay.”
You guide him toward the bathroom, hand firm at his back. He shuffles his feet the whole way, dramatically miserable, pausing in the doorway like he might simply collapse there instead.
“I’m going to freeze,” he insists.
“You will be in warm water.”
“And then I’ll get out and freeze again.”
“I will have towels ready.”
“And then I’ll die.”
You roll your eyes. “Steve.”
He looks at you for a long moment, then softens, shoulders sagging as he steps into the bathroom. “You’re being really, really bossy,” he says.
You turn the water on for him, testing the temperature until it is comfortably warm. “Sit,” you tell him, pointing at the edge of the tub.
He obeys without complaint, watching you with open affection as you move around the room like this is second nature. When you straighten, he reaches out and hooks a finger through your sleeve, stopping you.
“Hey,” he says quietly.
You look at him. “Yeah?”
He swallows, gaze dropping before he looks back up at you. “Thanks for coming,” he murmurs, voice rough and a little clogged. “I didn’t mean to scare you like that. I just… didn’t think it was a big deal.”
Your heart twists. You reach out, brushing your thumb along his jaw. “Next time you’re sick,” you say softly, with a small smile meant only for him, “you call me. I don’t care if you sound ridiculous or weak. I want to know and I want to be there for you.”
He smiles faintly. “Deal.”
You squeeze his hand once before leaving him there, steam already beginning to fill the room. As you step away, you head for the kitchen, already thinking about the soup you’re gonna make for him.
You return to the bedroom with the bowl balanced between your palms, steam rising in soft curls that blur the room at the edges. The house is hushed in that suspended, late afternoon stillness, and for the first time since you arrived, the tightness in your chest finally loosens and you’re not worried anymore.
Steve is sitting on the edge of the bed where you left him. He looks freshly showered, hair still a little damp and curling at the ends, pushed back in a way that makes him look younger somehow.
He has changed into one of his hoodies, oversized and soft, and a pair of worn sweatpants. What really gets you, though, are the socks. Two thick pairs pulled up almost to his calves like he is bracing for the arctic.
He is watching you with an attention that makes you slow without meaning to. Not hazy or unfocused like before, but steady and present, elbows braced on his knees, hands loosely laced together as his eyes track you across the room like he is afraid you might vanish if he looks away.
You set the bowl down on the nightstand beside the bed and glance back at him, quieter now. “Why are you looking at me like that?”
His mouth tilts into a smile that is still a little crooked from congestion, his voice coming out warm and stuffed. “Nothig,” he says, sniffing. “I just… really love you.”
Your heart does that stupid, immediate thing it always does with him. You step closer, standing between his knees, and he tips his head back to look up at you, hands automatically settling at your hips like that is where they belong.
“I love you too, Steve,” you say, leaning down just enough to brush your nose against his.
His grin spreads, way too pleased with himself for someone with sneezes and sniffles. “Sooo,” he drawls, leaning back like he is pitching a very serious idea, “is this the part where I get my love and affection?”
You laugh quietly. “Aren’t I giving you plenty right now?”
He shakes his head, dramatic as ever. “Nope.”
“Oh really?”
“Yeah,” he says, nodding like he has thought this through very carefully. “I had something… more specific in mind.”
You narrow your eyes, already suspicious. “Which is?”
He smirks, or at least attempts to. “I think we should have sex.”
You narrow your eyes. “Steve, you're sick and—.”
“—Okay, rude because I’m not that sick,” he interrupts, sniffing. “I am mildly compromised. Big difference.” He leans forward a little. “Also, I have not fucked my girlfriend in fifty one hours.”
You blink. “You counted.”
“Obviouly,” he says, offended. "And this little guy really missed you.” He gestures to his crotch.
You cut him off before he can spiral any further, reaching for the bowl and the spoon with a patience that is starting to fray.
“Okay. That’s enough,” you say, sitting beside him and angling the bowl into your hands. “Open your mouth.”
He immediately leans back, eyes widening like you have just threatened him. “No.”
You blink. “I swear to God if you do not eat it, I will shove this–.”
He immediately takes the spoon and swallows a bite.
“So,” he says slowly, thoughtfully as he chews the vegetables. “Does this mean after I eat we’re gonna have sex?”
“No, Steve,” you say, very calmly, as you scoop up another spoonful. “It means you eat your soup and get better.”
“But babyyyy—”
You shove the spoon into his mouth before he can finish, eyebrows lifting in warning.
He swallows, eyes flicking up to you again, still soft despite the pout tugging at his mouth. “…I love you,” he says, like it might change your mind.
You smile despite yourself and lift the spoon again. “I know. Now eat.”
He does, grumbling under his breath, and honestly, you have faced worse monsters than this.
You throw yourself dramatically on the bed, swearing you would die of horniness if Steve didn't find any condoms soon. "Steve!"
The thing nobody mentions about quarantine is the amount of sex you'll be having! Mainly because everyone was more focused on the military presence, the 'earthquake' that had split Hawkins in four and the the fact all of this had happened in your small town of Hawkins, Indiana.
But you'd been dealing with monsters, scary labs, rifts in the world and such for years that it became a dull noise in the back. Like a radio playing your least favourite song all the time, you learnt to drown it out.
You and Steve had learnt to make the best of it, together.
You'd never fucked so much in your life. Not when you were in high school, nor when you got out of it and you were sure Steve was the same. You simply just had so much time on your hands that sex was an enjoyable way to spend it. And the both of you made an agreement over a few beers (also smuggled in) that it was right. You both just worked so well. Knowing each other in the bed room could help outside to.
When you weren't planning crawls, or how to kill Vecna or at your silly little jobs at the radio tower, you were at Steve's house. It was made all the more easier with the fact his parents left Hawkins as soon as the ground rumbled. You effectively moved in with Steve with the amount you spent having sex or just talking.
You were naked on his bed, sheets rumpled and pillows on the floor from your past night of activities. You were watching Steve, just as bare, search desperately around his room for condoms.
"Shit, shit, shit!"
You groaned, head thrown back. "There's none, is there?"
"We can't have run out, there was a delivery a month ago," he said, knowing he'd been one of the first to the shops to get some boxes.
"Maybe there are others in Hawkins actually having sex!" you weren't all too surprised you'd ran out. You'd been at it almost every day, more than once a day.
Between stocking up on guns, grenades and bullets, you just hadn't been keeping stock of the condoms. Mistakes happen but when your mistakes were the one thing keeping Steve away from you, it felt like the end of the world.
Steve was desperate, heading out to his ensuite to search the cupboards and maybe peel up some floor boards while he was at it.
You laid on your back, already spent from the two orgasms you'd got from grinding on Steve's thigh and having his tongue in your pussy. But it was nothing like his cock driving inside of you, going so deep your whole body moved with his thrusts as you felt him in your stomach-
Shit, the thought of him had your fingers itching down to your core. You got yourself comfortable, slowly drawing circles along your clit.
"Empty!" Steve yelled from the bathroom. He walked out, groaning to himself before he spotted you and his expression fell. "Oh baby, baby, baby, I promise, gonna take such good care of you."
He fell to his knees like he was at the alter- the alter was you. He pulled your wrist away and kissed over your folds, flicking your clit once with his tongue.
Steve looked up at you from between your open thighs. Your finger lazily drew circles on your sternum. "We could, always go without."
"Steve, we can't," you said.
"I'll pull out in time, I promise."
You rolled your eyes playfully.
Slowly, at an agonising pace, Steve crept up your body, kissing over your stomach until he was leaning over you. You could feel the heat of your pussy drawing him in.
"I'll pull out, I'll be so good, I promise."
Steve may have been the one promising but you both knew there was a high chance he wouldn't. He struggled to control himself when he was wrapped, let alone without it. If condoms were hard to come by in this lock down, plan B was harder. Raising a kid in this environment? Impossible.
The two of you weren't even official! Exclusive to each other, yes but the titles hadn't been confirmed.
He leant over you, nudging your nose with his.
You smiled, all love and tender care. Your hand stilled over the beating of his heart. "We can't, honey."
Steve didn't flinch, he didn't react. There wasn't so much as a pout. Steve smiled and kissed you slow, laying his body against yours but careful to shift so not even his tip was grazing you.
He went back down your body, down the path he created, pausing at your stomach. He nipped at the skin and ran his tongue over the red mark he was slowly leaving.
You laughed, covering your face in your hands. If he continued on you might just have changed your mind.
Sensing that, Steve moved back, standing at the edge of the bed. His cock stirred to attention, still high on his stomach, ghosting the hairs that led to his happy trail.
He grabbed your legs and tugged you to the end of the bed. "For now, I guess I'll just have to make you cum other ways." He fell back down and flattened his tongue on you.
And Steve had many ways of making you cum.
The delivery arrived three weeks later. Which meant it had bene three weeks since the last time Steve had thrust inside of you- slow, fast, standing up, lying down, cowgirl, on the bed. Any way Steve and you had not been doing it. Instead it was hands, tongues, watching and learning each other in ways you hadn't before.
But you were both itching for it.
"What is wrong with you?" asked Robin, nudging her elbow with yours as you stood among the group ready to get your special delivery. "Seriously, you got ants in your pants or something?"
You looked at her. "I'll have you know I've got nothing in my pants."
Steve glanced at you from the other end of the line, smirking. Strictly speaking it was true, you'd had nothing in your pants for three weeks!
But you wouldn't tell Robin that. One) because she'd plug her fingers in her ears and dance away, insisting she was not listening and two) because she didn't know you and Steve were together. Nobody did.
Except El. Somehow she'd figured it out and you really didn't want to know if she'd been snooping around in your heads.
Nancy stood with Jonathon and Mike on the other side of you, Lucas joining up the end next to Steve.
Finally, Murray appeared, opening the end of his truck to the wonders inside. 'Santa Claus' you liked to call him.
"Well, well, well, the Calvary," he greeted, beard trimmed and glasses cleaned. Unlike him really. He started to chuck down sacks of gifts.
He unloaded crates... boxes, Nancy and Jonathan taking them. "Bullets... shelves... seriously you could take out half of Russia with this stuff, shoot wisely."
"Always do," said Nancy.
Murray pulled out bags of leafy greens. "Salad? Salad? Anyone order salad?" he looked from you to Steve, rather pointedly. Nobody claimed them.
You'd hoped he'd been discreet with the condoms but you hoped you wouldn't have to fish through spinach and lettuce to find them.
"Well good thing you didn't because- grenade!" like it was a playball, Murray threw a grenade into your hands. You caught it, carefully. "Grenade salad, ha ha!"
Any other day you might have gone along with it.
You threw it to Jonathon who was less graceful in catching it.
Steve crossed his arms over his chest, rocking on his heels and continuously glancing back down the row to you.
"Mor Gatorade for El.... Ego's for El.... batteries and-"
Murray whipped around, throwing at least five boxes at once of condoms to Steve.
He had no time to even catch them all as he fumbled with one, the rest falling at his feet.
"Oh my god," Lucas chuckled.
"Protection!" said Murray, jumping down from the truck. "Five boxes of twenty-four pack condoms."
Your face went up in a blaze of red as you stared dumb-founded. Usually Murray just hid them and gave them to Steve or put them out in the shops but gave them a tip off to when they'd be there. Never did he just announce to everyone that Steve was fucking!
"God, Steve," said Nancy as Steve rushed to grab them from the floor.
Robin laughed.
You cleared your throat. "Yeah, god, Steve."
Steve looked to you, helplessly.
"Oh no," said Murray, a mischief's glint in his eyes. His fingers went accusingly to Steve and to you. It was a like a spotlight raining down. "These two have been at it like bunnies for months!"
Steve spluttered and your jaw hung open.
"Wait- what?" said Mike.
"How'd you even know?" you gasped.
Murray was seemingly pleased with himself. You'd never even said. "Oh come on, the both of you requesting condoms? The fact you never stand together in the line and please, you're wearing his shirt."
You looked down and- you were. You hadn't even realised. You tug your jacket over it.
"If you're gonna try and be discreet about it, try harder," Murray advised.
"None of them had it figured out!" said Steve, gesturing down the line. A box slipped from his hands.
Lucas was smirking, Jonathon seemed confused, Mike was trying to figure out how.
"Wait, so you two-" said Nancy, standing in front of the both of you. It wasn't anger in her eyes, after all she had no claim for it. Her and Steve had been broken up for years and there was nothing there anymore.
Robin was giddy, grinning like it was all she'd asked for on Christmas. "I knew it!"
You turned to Steve. "You told her?"
"What- no!"
Robin turned and smacked him in the chest with excitement. "I knew it was her panties in your car, I knew it!"
"Oh my god." This was mortifying. If you ever wanted anyone to know you would have told them, sat them down in groups and broke it down. Not this way with your sex life being made public before they even knew it was serious.
"For how long?" asked Nancy.
"Well I found them three weeks ago but I'm pretty sure they were there the night before-"
Nancy's eyes screwed shut. "Not the panties, Robin."
"Can we all stop saying panties?" asked Steve with a blush at his cheeks.
"I meant how long has this been going on?"
The both of you hesitated but you both knew how long it has been going on. The date was marked in your head, the day everything in the world became bearable with Steve at your side.
"Like... six months," said Steve.
"Six months?" erupted Jonathon.
"I mean- wh- how?" asked Nancy.
Steve held up his hands- and the box of condoms. "Okay, really what is with all these questions?" he walked over to you, throwing his arm over your shoulder and dangling the box under you to your annoyance. "We're two consenting adults having fun, you're acting as if it's a crime."
His hip nudged yours and you snatched the box from his hands. It was absurd.
"Why didn't you say anything?" asked Robin.
"Because it's nobodies business but ours."
Jonathon shrugged. "It just weird. You've been sneaking around this whole time."
You lifted your shoulders in defence. "We haven't hurt anyone."
"Yeah but," said Robin, breaking off and looking back from Steve's car to the WSQK. "Where have you been doing it?"
Steve chuckled awkwardly. She'd just found two of the numerous frequent places.
"Oh, spare me!" yelled Murray, gaining everyone's attention again. "This teenage- soap opera digest is riveting but I have a truck load of goods that need un-loading for the army men steal all your presents so hurry up!"
Rather grumpily and clearly caring about the secrets shared, they all clamoured onto the van, taking what Murray gave them.
All but Steve who took your hand, pulling you over to the WSQK.
"Steve, what are you-"
"Shh, come on," he said, pulling you close into his body as you rushed around the building to the back.
You laughed as he flattened you to the wall in the shade, checking the others weren't missing you already. Your grabbed a hold of his jacket. "What are you doing?"
He looked at you, as if shocked that you hadn't worked it out yet. He held up the box of condoms. "You think I'm gonna let these go for a waste a minute more."
His pants were coming down quick.
But hey, it was only inside the WSQK Robin had warned about.
angst angst angst! reader gets injured pretty bad in the upside down on a crawl maybe, blacks out or something dramatic, boyfriend!steve is beside himself with worry. hes pictured their whole lives together, he cant lose her, he cant, he cant. eventually they get to safety, happy ending? thanks love!
જ⁀➴ crawl gone wrong
steve harrington x reader
holy shit i hate this so much 😭😭😭 but idk how much longer i can hold back on you guys 💔 hopefully i get back into writing ASAPPPP
steve felt his heart stop when he saw you go limp in his arms.
the crawl wasn’t supposed to end this way—with you bleeding out in his arms. you were supposed to go in and out unscathed like the dozens of times before.
a demogorgon wasn’t supposed to jump out of nowhere and practically shred your abdomen.
steve wasn’t supposed to see any blood bubbling out of your body. he wasn’t supposed to hear your breathing come to a stop. he wasn’t supposed to feel your heartbeat wither.
none of this was supposed to happen.
you two were supposed to flee hawkins the second the lockdown was over. you two were supposed to travel the world and have kids. you were supposed to settle down in a small town near the countryside and have a huge farm. acres and acres of land.
steve could imagine a life without the farm and the kids, but a life without you? that’s no life worth living.
he pressed his index and middle finger to your neck, right above your pulse. weak, but present.
he let out a relieved breath. “come on, sweetheart. can’t leave me yet.”
he shrugged off his jacket and wrapped it around your torso before picking you back up.
he cut the crawl short and made his way back to the right side up. his every step carried a heavy weight. your life was in his hands, and if he lost it simply because he wasn’t fast enough—
“no.” he shook his head. “stay with me, baby, we’re almost there.”
he pressed his fingers to your pulse once more and it was… stronger? he wasn’t sure if it was his mind playing tricks on him or if there was some sort of miracle, but he really was not complaining. in fact, it only drove him more determined to get back the squawk.
you were not to die in the upside down.
the second he stepped foot into the familiar building and his found family gaped at the damage that had been done to you, his lip trembled and he stood frozen in place.
he became hyperaware of your blood leaking through his jacket, leaving red splotches across the blue denim. he became hyperaware of the dullness that overtook your skin, and the color fading from your lips.
hopper—sprained ankle and all—took three long strides and took you out of steve’s arms.
steve still remained frozen in place, his hands and shirt drenched in your blood. his hands were still outstretched. he looked down and saw how red they were and his stomach turned.
robin placed a hand on his shoulder and guided him to the bathroom. she turned on the sink and pumped soap into his hands.
he turned to look at her, eyes wide and teary. “if she dies—”
she cut him off. “don’t say that.”
“i’m not gonna be able to do it.” he shook his head. “i can’t do this without her. robin, she’s everything—”
“i know. i know that. hop’s got her.” her throat bobbed. “she’s gonna be fine.”
“if i was paying more attention—”
“you can’t do this to yourself, steve.” she said firmly, tugging off the hoodie she was wearing.
she placed her hands on the hem of his shirt. “up.”
she didn’t make any comments or scrunch her face up in disgust at his chest hair—she wasn’t even thinking about that this time around. she tossed the bloodied shirt in the trash and tugged her hoodie over his head.
good thing she was wearing one of her oversized hoodies.
“listen to me.” she grabbed his jaw and forced him to look at her. “you’re gonna go out there and sit next to her. you’re gonna be there when she wakes up, okay? you’re gonna be the first face she sees.”
he nodded wordlessly, eyes still oh so wide.
“and i’m gonna be next to you the entire time.” she added. “come on.”
he found you laying on the couch while hopper tended to your wounds.
his throat bobbed. robin gave him a slight push and his feet took him to stand in front of you.
“sit, don’t hover.” hopper gruffed.
steve immediately brought himself to the floor, hand holding yours.
his eyes were flooded with a mix of worry and tears. he sniffled and hopper sent him a brief glance. “she’ll be fine, kid.”
“really?” he wiped his eye with the back of his hand.
hopper glanced and steve and his own throat bobbed. this wasn’t the former jock he got noise complaints about at least once a week—no, this was a much more vulnerable version. a version of him he last saw when steve was only a kid and frequently called the police station in fear of a break in when his parents were away.
hoppers eyes softened for half a second. “yeah.”
you didn’t wake up after hopper bandaged you up, nor soon after that.
it seemed as though a permanent frown has made its way onto steve’s face. all he could do was give your hand a squeeze every now and then and exhale shakily.
whenever anyone tries to check in on him he simply wouldn’t respond—or, he wouldn’t even hear them to begin with.
he was only snapped out of his trance when eleven placed her hand on his shoulder.
his head snapped to the right, and, upon seeing her, his face softened.
she gave him a soft smile. “hi.”
he turned back to face you, his thumb going over your knuckles in the way you like. “hey.”
“she will be okay.” el said firmly.
“i—how do you know that?” he sighed. “i thought she was a goner, el, you didn’t see her down there—”
“i did.” she cut him off. “i saw it.”
“you-you did?” steve blinked.
eleven nodded and steve’s eyes welled up again for the millionth time. “you saw how bad it was. i mean, her heart gave out on me, el.” he ran a frustrated hand through his face. “fucks sake, i can’t stop feeling how weak her heartbeat was i can’t-i don’t know what i’d do if it happened again, and i mean she lost a lot of blood—”
“i will bring her heartbeat back again.” eleven reassured. “i can’t see her die too.”
steve’s eyes widened and his lips slightly parted. “you did that?”
steve, with his hands and jeans stained with your blood, with his face covered in all sorts of upside down grime, pulled eleven in for the tightest hug she’s ever received. “thank you.”
“i love her too, steve.” she murmured against his ear. only then did he hear the wobble in her voice, and he immediately felt so foolish for not checking up on her sooner. she viewed you as the older sister she never had and seeing you almost die for something she practically brought to life—
“she’s going to wake up soon, i feel it.”
you did not wake up soon. hopper took el back home before you could wake up.
steve fell asleep sitting on the floor, hand holding yours, and his head on your thigh.
when you stirred, he awoke. he brushed your hair back until your eyes peeled open. you let out a pained gasp and his hand dropped to cup your face.
when you spoke, your voice was scratchy and weak. “steve?”
“hey,” he smiled softly. “damn thing got you good, huh?”
“i’m-i’m okay?” you questioned.
he nodded. “hop patched you up.”
“steve, i thought…” you trailed off, shaking your head.
he wiped away a tear you hadn’t known had fell with the pad of his thumb. “doesn’t matter what we thought. you’re here now.”
he watched as a frown made its way onto your face. he couldn’t help but smile. he knew what kind of frown that was. it was your angry frown. the one you got before you cursed someone’s bloodline. “i’m not going down to that shithole again, steve, i swear.”
“no you won’t.” even though it was said through a chuckle, you knew he was being dead serious. “can’t do this bullshit without you.”
you gave him a weak grin. “what—the crawls? i’m sure hop isn’t a bad—”
“life.” he corrected.
“lucky for you i’m not going anywhere.”
and suddenly, the farm with the six kids came back into view. he saw the aching backs and the cracky knees and the gray hairs. he saw it all, and he wasn’t going to let it slip through his fingers ever again.
Summary: You love Micheal Jackson, and you mostly talk to your boyfriend Steve about how you love the thriller album. Like the boyfriend Steve is he bought you the vinyl.
Steve being the best boyfriend and Robin watching Steve being in love with the reader!
I know s3 is set in 87 and thriller came out in 82 but I just love s3 Steve🌚
The afternoon rush at Scoops Ahoy has finally gone down, leaving the place unusually quiet. Steve and you were sitting together in one of the booths on your break, sharing a large cup of ice cream while Robin sat across the room pretending she couldn't hear us with her walkman on.
Pretending.
"So then" you said exactly, leaning closer to Steve, "that's why Thriller is such a perfect album. Every song feels different, but they all fit together." You loved Michael Jackson ever since you were little, your parents bought you the 'Off the wall' vinyl when you were six and tried to hide it because all you did was replay it, but your parents never got you the thriller album, you heard snips of it with your friend that had the album and saw the music video also.
Steve rested his chin on his hand, watching you with the softest smile. You'd been talking about Michael Jackson for nearly ten minutes. Not that he minded. Actually, he loved it.
Whenever you talked about something you loved, your whole face lights up. "Really?" Steve asked, even though you'd probably explained this before. "Yes!" you laughed. "And don't even get me started on the music video."
Steve grinned. "Oh, sweetheart, I want you to get started." You immediately launched into another explanation, your hands moving dramatically as you talked.
Robin took her walkman headphones off "You know," she called from across the room, "most people spend their breaks discussing normal things."
Neither of you looked at her. Steve's attention never left you."Ignore her, baby," he said. "Keep going."
Robin stared and rolled her eyes puting her walkman headphones back on "Unbelievable."
You giggled and continued talking about Thriller, pointing out your favorite songs and moments from the album. Steve nodded along, occasionally asking questions just to hear you talk more.
"So your favorite is still 'Thriller'?" he asked. You nodded your head. "Mm." Steve smiled. "I knew that." "Of course you did."
"You've only told me about fifty times, angel" You lightly shoved his shoulder. Steve caught your hand before you could pull away and kissed the back of it.
Robin made a gagging noise. "Oh my God." Steve didn't even react. Instead, he squeezed your hand and looked at you like you were the most interesting person in Hawkins, because to him you were.
The Thriller vinyl he'd bought you was probably the best purchase he'd ever made. Not because it was a vinyl you didn't have, but because every time you talked about it, you get this huge smile on your face that made him completely forget about everything else.
Robin watched the two of you for another minute before groaning dramatically. "I am literally watching a man fall deeper in love because his girlfriend is giving a lecture about an album."
Steve shrugged without looking away from you. "Sounds about right." Your cheeks warmed.Steve just smiled and pressed a quick kiss to your temple."Keep talking, sweetheart."
On your day off, Steve had asked if you wanted to come over, acting strangely casual about it the entire time. When you arrived, he opened the door with a smile that looked a little too innocent. "Hey, sweetheart."
"Why do you look like that?"
"Like what?"
"Like you're hiding something?" Steve laughed. "I have no idea what you're talking about." You narrowed your eyes. He was definitely hiding something.
A few minutes later, you were sitting on his bed, talking about music like always. Somehow the conversation had drifted back to Michael Jackson and Thriller.
Again.
Not that Steve minded. He never did. You were halfway through explaining why you thought the album was timeless when Steve interrupted. "Hang on."
You paused
"What?"
"Close your eyes my love" Immediately suspicious, you crossed your arms. "Steve."
"Trust me."
"That's usually what people say before they do something stupid." He laughed. "Just close your eyes, baby."
After a moment, you finally did. You heard him moving around the room. A drawer opening.A rustle of paper. Then silence. "Okay."
"Can I look now?"
"Yep." When you opened them, Steve was standing in front of you holding something.For a second, your brain didn't process it.
Then it did. Your eyes widened. The Thriller vinyl. You froze. "...Steve." A nervous smile appeared on his face. "Surprise." You stared at the record. Then at him. Then back at the record. "You got me Thriller?" Steve nodded.
"You said you've wanted it forever."For a moment, you couldn't even find words. It wasn't just the album it was the fact your boyfriend remembered.
You'd told him stories about listening to it when you were little. About trying to learn the dances. About how it was your favorite album and always had been. And somehow he'd remembered all of it.
Your eyes immediately softened."Steve..." His expression grew shy. Which was rare for him."I know how much you love it." You stood up so quickly he barely had time to react before you wrapped your arms around him.Steve laughed in surprise and hugged you back.
"There she is."
"You remembered." His arms tightened around your waist. "Of course I remembered." The answer came so naturally that it made your heart skip.
Steve pulled back enough to look at you. "Baby, you talk about this album all the time." You laughed.
"I do not." He gave you a look. "You absolutely do."
"Okay, maybe a little." "A little?" he teased. You hid your face against his chest while he laughed. Then he gently lifted your chin.
The smile on his face was soft and affectionate. "I like hearing you talk about it." "You do?"
"Yeah." His thumb brushed against your cheek, he looked at your lips and kissed them softly. Once he pulled back he said softly, "You get excited."
Your heart melted a little.Steve smiled."And I love seeing you excited."For a second, neither of you spoke. You just looked at each other while the record sat forgotten in your hands.
Then Steve glanced down at it. "So..." You followed his gaze. "So?"
"Wanna listen to it?" Your face instantly lit up. Steve immediately started laughing. "That's the reaction I was hoping for."
You hugged him again before he could say anything else. As Steve held you close, he couldn't help smiling.
This is my first long fic 😶🌫️ but hoped you enjoyed!
okay so this is my first request ever (yay 😇), i’m typically a silent reader. okay. to the point. could you do one where reader has the biggest puppy eyes ever—and isn’t even aware that she has them? steve’s never able to say no (obviously). and the group always teases him, but he can’t bring himself to stop.
sorry if this lacks detail, but you should get the idea?? if not, that’s okay. thank you!! 🥹✌️
PUPPY EYED LOVER
Steve Harrington x fem!reader
WORD COUNT: 1.7K
NIA'S NOTES: Thank you for this request!! I have my exam tomorrow. I need all the luck I can get honestly 🤞🤞 I'll feedback to you guys as soon as I come out of the exam how it went. Enjoy my lovelies!! 💕
Having a boyfriend that couldn’t help but give into you was something that you put to good use, mostly because it would get a reaction out of other people. Watching the helpless look wash over his face was something that you soaked in every time. You could ask him for anything, and he would say yes immediately, not needing a second to think about it. Your favourite part about it was watching everyone roll their eyes and gag.
For a boy that was known as ‘king Steve’ in high school, he was definitely everything but what people expected of him. Whatever defences he had up crumbled down whenever he simply looked at you, and he got shit from it all the time, constantly being mocked when he was caught off guard.
You’ve never worked out why he can never say no to you, and you know that he has never been like this with anyone else. If anyone else asked him for something, he would probably laugh at them and roll his eyes. People would ask you if he was desperate, but he has been like this since day one of dating him, and you never thought to ask him about it.
The mall was getting quieter, people scattered around to do their last-minute shop before heading home. You’re walking out of the movie theatre with Steve by your side, a large popcorn box in your hands as you munched on them. You had asked him if you could get popcorn, and he went up to the front to ask for a large popcorn box. He knew that you wouldn’t finish it, but anyone that knew him knows that he loves to spoil you.
Robin, Jonathan and Nancy are trailing behind you, still laughing at the movie that you just watched. It had been a tie between you and the others on what movie you wanted to watch, and the final vote that came from Steve was your movie suggestion, of course.
He rests his hand on your lower back, guiding you through the mall. “What did you think of the movie, baby?” He asks, stealing a handful of popcorn from your box and tilting his head back, eating them all at once.
You hum, glancing around like you’re really thinking about it. “I really liked it. What did you think of it?”
A slightly concerned look appears on his face, and he almost wants to laugh at how awful the movie was, but for the sake of you, he doesn’t. “It was quite funny. Good movie.”
You squint at him before laughing. “Wait, really? I was only kidding, I hated it. I think that was the worst suggestion I’ve ever had. Never let me pick a movie.”
He stares at you, more confused than ever. “Oh, right. I mean, it was funny because it was so bad.”
“Okay, Steve.” You laugh, shaking your head before stuffing popcorn in your mouth.
The others catch up with you and fall into a conversation, mostly filled with Robin unable to talk with how much she was laughing. Steve’s hand stays on your lower back, gently rubbing up and down, a gesture that he does without even thinking about it.
You pause mid-step, inches away from the stairs leading to the exit, and you glance up at Steve. “Could we take the elevator? My legs are hurting.” You say innocently with a sweet smile and your big eyes.
“Yeah, of course we can.” He nods, already making his way over to the lift.
“Oh Jesus. The stairs are right here. Can you not walk up a few steps?” Robin asks with a groan, earning a grin from you.
“If her legs hurt, then the elevator would be the best option.” Steve says, pressing the button.
Robin rolls her eyes, already making her way up. “I’m taking the stairs, have fun waiting.”
“Suit yourself.” Jonathan shrugs, following behind Robin with Nancy who’s clearly trying not to laugh.
He turns to you, shrugging. “Don’t know what’s got them so irritated.”
You just laugh, stepping into the elevator with him beside you. The elevator goes up slowly, giving him time to turn to you, gently grabbing your jaw and pulling you in for a sweet, slow kiss. He sighs against you, slipping his hand behind him onto the wall to steady himself.
“You taste like salted caramel.” He grins.
“I am eating salted caramel popcorn, so I’d hope so.” You laugh, leaning your weight against him.
His fingers trail down your arm, and his voice almost comes out in a whine. “I can’t wait to get back home.”
You raise your eyebrows. “Why is that?”
“Why would I not want to get back home?” He sighs, resting his forehead against yours. “I’ve missed you.”
“Steve, baby, you’ve been with me all day. Practically attached to my hip unless you physically haven’t been able to come along with me.” You say with an amused laugh.
“You know what I mean.” He mumbles.
“I don’t, but okay.” You shake your head, huffing out another laugh.
His hand comes back up to the side of your face. “I like being around you.”
“I know.” You hum. “You’ve been very affectionate all day.”
“Am I not always?” He asks.
You blink at him. “Good point.”
The elevator dings and the doors open, the others already waiting at the door, looking impatient. You slip your free hand into his, clutching the popcorn box against your chest as you walk over to the exit.
“Would you like me to carry that for you?” He asks.
“Yes please.” You nod, and he effortlessly takes it from you between his fingers.
Robin fake gags, causing him to roll his eyes. “You two are disgustingly cute, I hate it.” She says, but there’s no real hatred in her tone.
“Who’s driving us back home?” Nancy asks, pushing the exit door open.
“I can.” Jonathan says.
“I also can.” You add.
Robin’s eyes immediately flick to Steve, waiting for his response. “Just say no for once. I will smile for the rest of my life.” She says, dragging her hand down her face.
“It saves me from driving everyone around for hours, actually. I’ll happily let her drive us all home.” Jonathan shrugs.
Steve glances at Robin. “Well, wasn’t that easy?” He says, shooting her a glare.
Robin groans, walking through the exit.
“You’re so easy, Steve.” Robin teases.
“She’s not wrong. I don’t think I ever hear you say no.” Nancy adds, raising her eyebrows.
“No.” Steve says simply.
The group shoot him a look, and you can’t help but laugh.
“Don’t join in with them too.” Steve groans at you, though he only pulls you closer to himself.
“They aren’t wrong, Steve.” You whisper.
“Maybe not, but what’s the problem with it?” He asks you.
Robin gasps comically, sarcastically. “No way. He finally admits it. We must broadcast this to the world.”
“Could you just stop talking for a minute?” Steve shoots back and turns to look at you.
“I don’t have a problem with it.” You say with a sweet smile.
“I’m glad that someone doesn’t.” He rolls his eyes, leading you over to the car.
You slip into the driver’s seat, adjusting the seat to your height whilst Steve gets into the passenger seat, and the group slide into the back. Steve slides a cassette tape into a player to play in the background to fill up the noise, which definitely wasn’t going to be necessary. You drive out of the parking lot and start to drive to everyone’s houses.
They’re relentlessly teasing Steve in the back, dragging out his inability to say no for as long as they could, which you found hilarious. He had nothing else to say to shoot back at them, so he groaned and listened to them.
“You’re completely hopeless, dude.” Jonathan laughs.
“Steve, would you be the sweetest and turn this song off? I hate it.” Robin mocks, and you keep your focus on the road, physically holding yourself back from laughing.
Steve huffs, tilting his head back against the headrest. “You’re relentless.”
“You make me want to barf every time you do that weird squeaky voice.” Robin laughs.
“I thought I was the only one that noticed that.” Nancy adds.
He rolls his eyes. “You’re making things up now.”
“No, no.” Robin shakes her head. “Once I noticed it, it’s now the only thing I can notice.”
“Can I do anything without you commentating on my life?” He asks, turning his head to look back at the group, earning a shrug from them all.
Once you dropped everyone back off at their homes, you watch the tension leave Steve’s shoulders, and he huffs out a breath. You park outside of your house, turning the engine off and looking at Steve with a slightly empathetic look.
“That was an interesting drive.” You whisper.
“I was so close to stepping out of the car.” He groans.
“I think it’s cute that you always say yes to me.” You say with a sweet smile before stepping out of the car, walking up to the door.
Steve jogs behind you, his body pressed tightly against yours as you search for your keys. He rests his chin on your shoulder, his arms around your torso. You unlock the door, stepping inside and slipping your shoes off. As soon as his are off, he carefully backs you against the wall, his lips brushing along your neck.
“Steve!” You laugh, pulling him closer.
“Hm?” He says, acting completely oblivious as he presses kisses along your neck.
“I haven’t even taken my coat off yet.” You whisper.
“Don’t need to.” He mumbles.
Your hands slip through his hair. “I also need to prepare dinner.”
“Just give me a sec, baby.” He murmurs, settling his hands on your hips and settling his head on your shoulder.
“What happened to you always saying yes to me?” You ask with a laugh, and he perks his head up.
“Right.” He nods.
“I’m only kidding. It can wait.” You say with a sweet smile, and he grins, pressing his lips to yours, humming.
Even though Steve knew that the group were going to give him shit for life because of this, he could never contain himself. He was too far into it now, he would never get himself to stop.
Thank you for reading!! 💕 Liking and reblogging is very much appreciated!! 💕 This is the first time in weeks that I've been able to sit for a while and write something without getting distracted. Exam tomorrow, woop woop
Summary: Steve discovers that if he plays with your hair for long enough, you will fall asleep on him every single time.
Warnings/tags: 18+ ONLY, minors DNI, no use of y/n, established relationship, fluff, sleepy affection, domestic intimacy, kissing, touch-starved steve harrington, comfort fic (lmk if i missed anything)
W/C: 1.2k
Read more of my writing here: [masterlist]
You’re both sprawled across his couch after a movie, the living room lit only by the television and the warm orange lamp beside the window. Rain taps softly against the glass while some terrible late-night advert mutters quietly in the background now that the film’s ended.
You’re tucked against his side beneath one of his old blankets, half talking about something Robin said earlier while Steve absentmindedly plays with your hair.
Not even consciously, really.
Just something his hands started doing at some point during the relationship and never stopped.
Twisting soft strands around his fingers. Scratching lightly against your scalp. Pushing hair back away from your face whenever it falls forward.
Steve likes touching you. This is not exactly new information.
What is new is the fact your voice suddenly cuts off halfway through a sentence.
Steve glances down.
You’re asleep.
Completely asleep.
Mouth slightly parted against his shoulder, breathing slow and even, one hand still loosely curled in the fabric of his t-shirt.
Steve blinks once.
“…seriously?”
You do not respond, mostly because you are unconscious.
Steve stares at you for another few seconds before looking down at his hand still buried in your hair.
Interesting.
The second time it happens, he starts suspecting a pattern.
You’re sitting between his legs on the floor of his bedroom while he half watches a movie over your shoulder and half messes with your hair mindlessly. You’d insisted you weren’t tired less than ten minutes earlier.
“You literally slept till eleven,” Steve reminds you while separating sections of your hair carefully.
“I know,” you mumble. “That’s why I’m not tired.”
“Hm.”
“You’re so annoying.”
“You like me.”
“Unfortunately.”
Steve grins slightly to himself before dragging his nails lightly across your scalp again.
Your shoulders loosen immediately.
Another few minutes pass.
Then, nothing.
No response to his last comment. No movement either.
Steve leans slightly sideways to look at your face properly.
Dead asleep.
Again.
Still sitting upright between his legs.
Steve laughs so suddenly he nearly wakes you back up.
“Oh my god,” he mutters quietly.
By the fourth or fifth occurrence, it becomes less of a coincidence and more of a genuinely ridiculous amount of power for one person to hold.
Especially because Steve starts testing it.
Not maliciously.
Scientifically.
“You’re doing it on purpose now,” you mumble one afternoon, already sounding half asleep despite having argued thirty seconds earlier that you were “definitely awake.”
Steve, stretched out beside you on his bed, continues scratching softly through your hair with an expression of complete innocence.
“Doing what?”
“The hair thing.”
“What hair thing?”
“The…” You frown weakly. “The sleepy thing.”
Steve bites the inside of his cheek hard trying not to laugh.
Because it really is absurd.
You could be fully awake, actively talking, even complaining about not being tired at all, and within ten minutes of Steve touching your hair for long enough you’re suddenly fighting for your life trying to keep your eyes open.
“You’re being dramatic,” he says.
You squint at him suspiciously through obvious exhaustion. “You’re evil.”
“Mhm.”
“You’re like…” Another yawn interrupts you completely. “Like a tranquiliser gun.”
Steve loses it completely at that.
You fall asleep less than five minutes later with your face squashed into his chest while he quietly laughs into your hair.
After that, it becomes sort of unavoidable.
Steve starts noticing all the tiny signs before you even realise you’re tired.
The slower blinking. The way your body gradually gets heavier against him. The increasingly delayed responses during conversations.
And every single time, without fail, the second his fingers slide into your hair properly, you melt.
On the couch.
In bed.
Once in the passenger seat of his car while he waited for Robin to come out of Family Video after locking up.
Another time at the Wheeler’s house with your head in his lap while everyone else argued loudly over a board game around you.
“You cannot be serious,” Dustin says, staring at your sleeping form in disbelief. “How does she keep doing that?”
Steve barely looks up from where he’s still lazily playing with your hair. “Doing what?”
“She was literally talking.”
“Yeah?”
“And now she’s unconscious.”
Steve shrugs like this is completely normal behaviour.
Robin narrows her eyes immediately from the opposite couch.
“Oh, this is definitely psychological.”
Steve scoffs. “What does that even mean?”
“She’s associated you with sleep now.”
“That’s not a thing.”
“It absolutely is,” Robin says. “You Pavlov’d your girlfriend.”
“I did not Pavlov my girlfriend.”
“You basically turned yourself into a human melatonin gummy.”
Steve rolls his eyes, but his hand never stops moving gently through your hair.
Mostly because Robin’s not entirely wrong.
There’s something about the trust of it that affects him more than he expects. The fact you fall asleep so easily against him. The way your whole body relaxes the second he touches you softly enough.
Like some part of you recognises him as safe before you even consciously think about it.
That part gets to him a little if he thinks about it too long.
Which is why he tries not to.
Unfortunately for him, you make this extremely difficult one rainy afternoon a few weeks later.
You’re both curled together in his bed while thunder rumbles softly outside, Steve lazily tracing shapes against your scalp while you blink sleepily up at him.
“You know,” you mumble eventually, “I think my body’s accidentally been trained.”
Steve grins immediately. “Finally admitting it?”
“This is your fault.”
“My fault you’re always sleepy?”
“My fault for trusting you enough to fall asleep this much.”
The smile slips slightly from Steve’s face at that.
You notice immediately, even half asleep.
“What?”
Steve looks down at you quietly for a second before shrugging one shoulder.
“Nothing.”
“Steve.”
His fingers slow slightly in your hair.
“It’s just…” He huffs softly through his nose. “I dunno. Kinda nice, I guess.”
Your expression softens immediately.
Because there it is.
The actual thing sitting underneath all the teasing.
Steve likes being trusted.
Likes being needed in these tiny quiet ways that nobody else really notices.
The way you automatically reach for his hand crossing roads. The way you sleep better beside him. The way you unconsciously move closer every time you’re tired.
You shift upwards slightly against his chest until you can kiss him properly.
Steve kisses you back slowly, one hand still tangled gently in your hair.
“I genuinely think this is my favourite thing.”
Your lips twitch.
“Me falling asleep?”
“No.” Steve smiles faintly. “You trusting me enough to.”
Something warm twists painfully through your chest.
You kiss him again before you can think too hard about it.
Steve’s fingers slide slowly through your hair once more afterwards, scratching lightly against your scalp in that familiar absentminded rhythm.
Dangerous.
You narrow your eyes immediately. “Don’t.”
“Don’t what?”
“You know exactly what.”
Steve looks deeply unconvincing. “I’m just touching your hair.”
“You’re literally weaponising affection.”
Steve starts laughing quietly while you attempt to glare at him through increasingly heavy eyelids.
“You’re already falling asleep,” he says.
“No I’m not.”
“You just blinked for like six seconds.”
“That means nothing.”
Steve grins down at you, still gently combing his fingers through your hair.
“You’re done for, sweetheart.”
You open your mouth to argue.
Then immediately yawn instead.
Steve looks so unbearably pleased with himself that you weakly shove at his chest in protest.
It does absolutely nothing.
Mostly because less than ten minutes later, you’re asleep against him again.
And Steve, unfortunately, looks far too happy about it.
Of Course She’s My Girlfriend! | Steve Harrington x Fem!Reader
SUMMARY: No one knows for sure if you and Steve Harrington are dating or just really close, really touchy, friends. Dustin, with the help of the party, sets out to find out the truth and put an end to the unsolved case of what you and Steve are.
A/N: If you’re a reader of Heroes, take this as my formal apology for chapter 30 and 31 :)
WARNINGS: Fluff, the kids are certified stalkers, kinda suggestive at the end
WC: 2.6K
Main Masterlist!
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Whether you and Steve Harrington were touchy best friends who seemingly had magnets that drew you into one another, or simply just a couple, was a mystery to which no one had a definitive answer to.
It was no secret that you two were best friends for the past couple of years. You both met in middle school and ever since you were put in the same science class, you two were inseparable.
Your playful shoves and harsh pillow fights that left you with a headache for days slowly matured into something more intimate as you both grew up.
Your fingers would brush, your knees would touch, you’d tangle your legs with his.
No one questioned it at first. Not until you and your friends were hanging out at the Wheeler’s place during a movie night.
The kids had taken the floor and you older teens were spread out along the couch. Robin tucked away in the corner with her knees pulled to her chest, Nancy sitting beside her with her legs crossed, Jonathan to her left with his arms crossed, and Eddie sitting next to him, his head drooping back every now and then as he slowly fell asleep.
And of course, there was you and Steve on the other side of the couch.
Your back was pressed against the arm of the couch, legs draped over Steve’s. But that wasn’t the issue. The issue was that his fingers were gently grazing up and down your thigh.
Dustin was lying on his stomach and glanced over his shoulder. The poor kid had to do a double take to ensure his eyes weren’t deceiving him.
And surely enough they weren’t.
One of Steve’s hands was on your knee while the other was caressing the soft skin exposed at your thigh.
You yawned, leaning to rest your head onto his shoulder. Steve smiled at you and snuggled his nose into the crook of your neck.
Dustin’s eyes widened.
Since when were you and Steve a thing?
And that’s the question that made him think for days on end.
He couldn’t go fifteen minutes without his mind wandering back to the idea of you and Steve being a thing. Everyone knew you two were close, but close enough that he was touching your thigh and rubbing his nose along your neck?
What the fuck kind of friendship was that?
Dustin thought maybe that’s the kind of friendship you two had established.
But the more he thought about it, the more he realized that he would never be caught dead doing such a thing with one of his friends.
Then again…you and Steve had always been touchy.
Dustin couldn’t take the spiraling questions in his own head anymore. He needed answers and he needed them fast.
He rounded up the party at his house one late afternoon and paced his living room.
“Does anyone think their relationship is kinda weird?” he asked, walking back and forth, hands on his hips.
Mike’s eyes followed Dustin. “I mean, they’ve always been touchy,” he said. “This isn’t some insane revelation.”
Dustin halted in his tracks. “That’s what I thought, but the other day when we had a movie night, she was pretty much sitting on top of him and he was, like, touching all up on her and rubbing his nose against her neck,” he explained, cringing at each and every word. The vision was forever ingrained into his mind and he wished for a way to delete it.
“That’s disgusting,” Will gagged, scrunching his nose.
“Well, what if they’re dating?” Lucas suggested.
“That’s what I was thinking too,” Dustin replied.
El furrowed her brows, looking between the group. “I do not follow. Wouldn’t they tell us they are boyfriend and girlfriend?”
“I mean, I guess,” Lucas shrugged. “Unless they wanted to keep it a secret.”
“But why?” El asked.
“Who knows,” Max grumbled, leaning back onto the couch. “Can’t we go to the arcade or something?” She was growing increasingly bored by the second. She didn’t really care what you and Steve were. In her mind, it was none of her business.
Dustin’s eyes lit up. “Holy shit,” he breathed out. “They’re hanging out today! We could go spy on them!”
“And see if they’re a thing!” Lucas exclaimed.
Max blinked, standing up. “Woah, woah, woah,” she said, closing her eyes and shaking her head. When she opened them again, Lucas was standing too. “We’re not gonna go spy on them!”
“I think Steve mentioned something about the movies,” Dustin explained, already moving to grab his shoes from beside the door.
“Uh, hello?!” Max shouted. “We’re not spying on them!”
Mike stood up, checking his watch. “Wait, what time is the showing? We should be there before they show up.”
Lucas snapped his fingers. “Smart.”
“Are you all deaf?!” Max yelled.
“Six o’clock showing,” Dustin said, tying his laces. “We can make it if we leave now.”
Dustin shot up, him and Mike already walking out the front door. Lucas went to leave too, looking over his shoulder from the doorway to see Max standing in the living room with a look of bewilderment. “Max, come on!” he said before walking out the door.
Max’s hand landed on her face before turning to face El and Will who were still sitting on the couch with wide eyes. “I hate boys,” Max sighed.
“Hey!” Will scoffed.
“You don’t count.”
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The kids claimed their spots towards the front of the theater, assuming that you and Steve wouldn’t want to sit too close to the screen.
A few minutes had gone by before you and Steve walked in.
Dustin sank into his seat, pulling his cap further down his face in an attempt to cover it. “I’ve got eyes on our targets,” he whispered.
One of Steve’s hands rested against your lower back, the other holding a bucket of popcorn. You were rambling about something and Steve was nodding his head, a small smile on his lips.
“Wow, they’re totally dating, hooray,” Max mused sarcastically. “Can we leave now?”
Dustin turned around, looking over the seats watching as you and Steve sat beside each other. “Not yet. We don’t have solid evidence.”
Will rolled his eyes. “So you’re just gonna sit there looking over the seats like a complete weirdo for the entire movie?”
“Yes.”
El raised a brow. “That is creepy.”
Lucas and Mike peaked over their shoulders. You wrapped your arm around Steve’s looking up at him with eyes that twinkled as if he had given you the moon.
“Aww,” Lucas cooed. He turned to face his friends. “Now that’s what I like to call the look of love.”
Max, El, and Will looked over, Dustin still having his neck completely craned around and staring.
Steve’s thumb brushed your cheek gently, a look in his eyes that none of the kids had ever seen before.
Will turned back around, shaking his head. “This feels invasive.”
“Very,” Max agreed, looking away. “Why can’t we do something fun on a Friday in the middle of the summer?”
“Because this takes priority,” Dustin announced, eyes still fixated on you and Steve. “I’m going to get to the bottom of this. Tonight. Mark my words.”
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After not gathering enough evidence from the movies, the kids then followed you and Steve to a drive in diner later that night.
Your legs were kicked up on the dash, and by the speed in which your mouth was moving, you were definitely talking about whatever new nerdy interest you had gotten into recently.
“No way,” Dustin grumbled, peaking just barely above a bush with his binoculars over his eyes.
“What?!” Lucas whisper shouted, thinking that Dustin had evidence that you two were dating.
“Her feet are on the dash!”
Max threw her head back. “Oh, my God. I told you they’re not dating.”
“They definitely are,” Dustin fired back, removing his binoculars from his face and turning to her. “Steve would kill any one of us if we put our shoes on the dash.”
“That is true,” Mike agreed.
“Okay, and?” Max asked. “They’re, like, super close. I’m sure he doesn’t give a shit.”
“This is ridiculous,” Will mumbled. “I mean look at us! We’re hiding in a bush stalking people!”
“Shh!” Dustin shushed his friend. “You’re going to get us caught,” he whispered.
“Woah, look,” El said softly, pointing a finger straight ahead.
The kids whipped their heads back over to you and Steve.
You were laughing, Steve’s fingers brushing your hair out of your face. He was leaning in slowly when…
You shoved his face out of the way.
“Ha!” Max exclaimed, standing up straight. “Told you they weren’t dating!”
Mike grabbed her wrist, pulling her back down into the bush earning a glare from her. “Get down! You’re gonna expose us!”
“Maybe you need to be exposed for stalking, you creeps!”
“You’re literally stalking too!”
“Doesn’t make any sense,” Dustin mumbled.
“Makes sense to me,” Max spoke up. “They’re not dating. Case closed. Let’s go home.”
“He just kissed her,” El spoke.
“What?!” Lucas exclaimed, looking back to the car.
“Are you sure?” Will asked with uncertainty. The angle in which they were would make it difficult to tell as they were facing your passenger side window.
“On the cheek,” El clarified.
Dustin stood up. “We’re going to their apartment.”
“What?!” Max exclaimed, watching him, Lucas, and Mike climb out from behind the bush and toward their bikes. “You’re joking! You have to be!”
“How would we even get in? Breaking and entering?” Will asked with a scoff.
“Not necessary,” Dustin told them. “I stole his spare. Come on, let’s go!”
Max and Will groaned, rolling their eyes.
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Steve’s Beamer pulled into the parking lot of your apartment, the dim lights illuminating the street.
You smiled and turned to face him. “I had fun tonight, Steve,” you said softly, cheeks flushed a shade of pink.
He smiled, turning the car off. “Yeah?”
You nodded. “Mhm.”
Steve leaned in over the center console, face just inches from yours. “Well, I had fun too,” he murmured. His eyes flickered down to your lips. “Good thing I have more planned for tonight.”
You raised your brows. “Oh, really?” He nodded with a low hum. “Why don’t you tell me then?”
“I think it’s better I show you.”
Steve’s lips ghosted over yours before he finally kissed you.
You sighed into his mouth, your fingers raking through his hair. He tilted his head slightly, deepening the kiss. His lips parted slightly as your tongue was just centimeters away from entering his mouth.
He pulled away, nose brushing yours. “But not here,” he murmured. “We’ve got a whole apartment to ourselves.”
You smiled as he hopped out of the car. He walked over to your door and opened it, extending his hand out to you.
You took it and he shut the door before locking the car and leading you up to your shared apartment.
As soon as the door opened, you were back on him again.
His back hit the door, your hands pressed firmly against his chest, lips on his. He groaned, hands moving to grab your waist.
He pulled away, eyes wide. “Holy shit, you want me that bad?” he teased, that stupid smirk on his lips.
“Shut up, Harrington,” you said, rolling your eyes.
Steve chuckled, picking you up before kissing you again, your legs wrapping around him. He walked to your shared bedroom, lying you down onto your back on the bed.
Your legs remained wrapped around his waist as his lips peppered kisses down your jaw. He made his way down to your neck, playfully biting down on the sensitive skin.
You moaned softly, fingers digging into his back through the fabric of his shirt. “Steve…”
“Hmm?” he asked, kissing the spot he just nipped.
“Did I leave my jacket there?”
Steve furrowed his brows, completely caught off guard. He thought you were moaning his name because his mouth was making you feel good. Meanwhile you were asking about an article of clothing. He lifted his face up and glanced down at you. He followed your line of sight, staring at your jacket that was lying on the dresser. “Maybe,” he said with a shrug.
He leaned back down, kissing your lips for about two seconds before you gently pushed his chest and he pulled away. “I know I didn’t leave that there.”
Steve wanted nothing more but to kiss you in peace, yet here you were, stuck on a jacket that was lying on the damn dresser.
“Baby, you had to have left it there,” he reasoned. “Why else would it be there?”
You could’ve sworn you put it back into the closet before you left, but maybe you didn’t.
“I guess…”
Steve’s hand slid up your shirt, causing you to inhale sharply.
He kissed your cheek, fingers trailing along the fabric of your bra. “I love you.”
“I love you too,” you responded as if it were second nature.
He leaned in to kiss you again, this time deeper. His tongue grazed your bottom lip and you let him in, sighing as your fingers ran up the back of his shirt, trailing along his muscles.
Suddenly, something creaked from under the bed.
You both jumped, pulling apart.
“What was that?” you whispered, eyes wide.
Steve’s eyes were wide too as they bore into yours. “I don’t know,” he whispered back.
Bam!
“Ow!”
Something like instant recognition flashed behind Steve’s eyes. “Dustin?!” he shouted, climbing off of the bed.
Dustin groaned, crawling out from under the bed. As soon as half of his body was out, Steve grabbed him by the collar of his shirt, yanking him up. “What the hell are you doing?!”
“I was conducting naturalistic observation!” Dustin defended himself, throwing his hands up.
“What the fuck does that mean?!”
“You were spying on us?!” you shouted, getting off of the bed.
“I needed to know if you two were boyfriend and girlfriend!”
“Of course she’s my girlfriend!” Steve yelled, shoving Dustin back, making him stagger. “What the hell is wrong with you?!”
Both you and Steve thought it was painfully obvious to everyone around you that you two were together. You both did so many things that only a couple would. So, how could anyone not know?
You ran a hand down your face. “You didn’t think to just ask us?!”
Dustin blinked. “Oh…” he trailed off. “I guess I could’ve done that,” he mumbled.
You narrowed your eyes at the jacket on the dresser. “I knew I didn’t leave that there.”
Dustin’s eyes followed yours and he let out a loud sigh. “I told them not to touch anything,” he grumbled, shaking his head in disappointment.
Steve blinked, turning to Dustin with raised brows. “What was that?”
Dustin sucked his teeth, looking up at Steve sheepishly. “Would now be a good time to tell you that the rest of the party is here too?”
Your eyes widened in horror.
“Can we come out now?” you could make out the muffled voice of Mike coming from your closet.
“Yeah, it’s hot as hell in here!” Lucas exclaimed.
“I didn’t condone any of this, I’m sorry,” Max apologized.
“Me either!” Will added.
“Can we sleepover?” El asked.
You pulled your lips into a tight line, nostrils flaring slightly. “How did you guys get in here?”
“Oh,” Dustin chuckled. “I stole his spare key a while back,” he said, motioning to the guy he now could identify as your boyfriend with full confidence, no questions asked.
Steve shut his eyes and ran a hand down his face. “Just a bunch of bad ass little kids.”
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