Calling all the amazing, beautiful, and talented writers.
Can someone please write this fic I have in my head.
Steve Harrington x reader, based on season 4, where Steve, Robin, Eddie, and Nancy are in the Upside Down, and Steve is telling Nancy about his dream of having 6 nuggets, but the one thing he never told her is that Nancy was always a part of that dream. However, those feelings have changed because he's with the reader now and can only imagine life with the reader. What they didn't know is that the reader heard Steve tell Nancy about it after that it would be pure angst with a happy/comfort ending... If anyone could pleaseeeee write something along all that, well it would be greatly appreciated lol
Arranged marriage prince! Steve who sneaks into his betrothed’s room to tell her he doesn’t want to get married, as there are rumors she feels the same. Why must he settle down as he has so much of the world he wants to see?? He hasn’t even been introduced to her yet but his family expects them to wed tomorrow!!!
When he walks in, the princess— you— is trying to run away out the window by tying bedsheets together. You are dangling frantically and grunting because you made it too short and even if you jump, you’d hurt yourself. Steve is smiling, leaning out the window looking at this maiden who is, oh so foolish.
“Shall I fetch a laundress for your plan or do you want me to use your own clothes? Perchance your wedding gown will do the trick, ” He calls down to you, cheekily.
Albeit, when you look up, the moonlight dances across your features and your eyes pierce his soul in a way no woman he’s ever known has done. And he’s known quite a bit of maidens. He is a young prince that has traveled a lot in his time, after all.
Hence, the reason his parents persistence for him to be married, as they’ve had enough of his immaturity (and the fear of a bastard child).
And Prince Harrington has always thought he has seen true beauty before. He believed he always knew what it meant to be a fair maiden, but that changed the second he laid eyes on you. Even when you’re looking up at him as if he’s the ugliest thing in the world.
You were more beautiful than any flower he’s laid eyes on. Any painting his mother spent a fortune on. Your skin looks like silk and your eyes look like stars.
And perhaps there is such thing as love at first sight. Maybe it’s because he fell in love with you that he uses his strength to lower the makeshift rope so you can land safely. You give him one last look, your face still unsure of what to make of him.
He flashes you a toothy smile and a wink before you turn around and sprint off. He perches his elbow on the windowsill. His hand under his chin as he watches your figure disappear into the night. He chuckles to himself because he forgot to warn you that Sir Edward, one of his father’s knights, was patrolling this wing because your parents warned your parents you might attempt at something like this.
And perhaps marriage isn’t so bad when he can wake up to the world lying right next to him.
Dry humping Steve BUT YOU SHOUODNT BE DOING IT CUS ITS YOUR BEST FTJENDS BOYRIEND AGHHHHHHHHHHH
My bby Steve doesn't cheat 😤
"This is a mistake" You moaned into Steves mouth softly, His hands holding onto the fabric of your shorts against your hips. Lips messily crashing into yours as his hands guided your movements against his lap, The outline of his cock perfectly hitting against you as you ground down on him.
"Mmm" Steve groaned into your mouth just to give you an answer, Mind anywhere but the fact he had a girlfriend right now. Let alone the fact that his girlfriend was your best friend of over ten years, You dont know how you managed to fall into this situation with him but you couldn't stop even if you wanted to.
The cotton of your shorts dragging against the rough denim of his jeans felt amazing against you, Back arching as Steves tongue explored the inside of your mouth.
"Off" He groaned into your mouth as his fingers moved to the waist band of your shorts, Fumbling messily to pull them down. Lifting yourself up slightly off his lap allowing him access to pull them off.
You dragged yourself against him once again, Crying out at how much better it feels with one less barrier between you both.
"You like that?" Steve asked as his mouth fell to your neck, Pressing hot open mouth kisses against the skin as you continue to rock against him. Coil in your stomach threatening to break at any moment.
"God, Yes" You moan softly and Steves pulling away from your neck to look at you, Hand at the back of your head pulling you back towards him into a kiss. The slight salty taste on his lips from the sweat that had built up on your neck from being stuck in the dingy basement of family video with him for the last thirty minutes, Getting closer and closer to break time being over and this fantasy ending.
"Want more?" Steve asked as he rolled his hips up into you, The pressure of his rock hard cock against you made you feel dizzy. You nod frantically, All thoughts of how wrong this was leaving your mind as he sucked your bottom lip into his mouth making you whimper.
Steve pushed on your hips signalling to you to lift up, Quickly undoing the button of his jeans as his chest heaved. Eyes flicking to yours every so often as he pulled them down slightly.
You looked down at him, you could see the outline of his cock through the tight fitting briefs, Small wet patch that matched your own.
"Cmere baby" Steve all but moaned as he held onto your wrist pulling you back onto his lap, Hissing at the feeling of the warmth from you as you pressed down against him. Hips rolling perfectly letting you feel every ridge of him, Steves head fell back against the sofa, eyes closed, mouth hanging slightly open as his tongue brushed against his lower lip.
"Fuck, Steve" You cried out as his hips start matching the same rhythm as yours, Letting your head fall to rest against his chest as you press kisses sloppily onto his skin.
"I know" Steve groaned as his fingers dug into the skin of your hips, Slipping under the cotton of your underwear like he was fighting with himself not to pull them down, Give in and let you have exactly what you wanted. What you both wanted, But he wouldn't. Because that would be cheating and Steve doesn't cheat.
summary: Steve crashes girl's night, but now you're wondering why this wasn't the plan all along
wc: 1.4k
warnings: fem!reader, talks of having kids, clingy lovesick Steve, Max and El being meddlers, sugary sweet fluff all the way through
a/n: I am so beyond obsessed with these two, I want to write them forever. This is part of a larger series, but this can be read as a stand alone! I am so fearful about the finale, this is 100% how I am coping <3
previous part here! | materialist here! | ask box here!
“What are you doing here?” Your boyfriend, your lovely, sweet and incredibly clingy boyfriend, was standing on your front porch, loaded down with shopping bags and a hopeful expression on his face.
“What do you mean ‘what are you doing here’?” Steve’s head cocked to the side in the way that made your heart twirl. “You needed ice cream.” He held up the bags emphatically. “So I brought ice cream.”
Those little liars.
“Just call him!”
“Please, come on!” Your girls were not patient creatures.
“I want ice cream too, but Steve is busy.” you sighed, hoping that they would drop it soon. You were ecstatic to have them both there for the sleepover you’d been promising for weeks, but they were on a tear tonight.
“Who would he be busy with? You’re here.” Max snarked, not looking up from El’s nails, which were being painted a lovely shade of neon green.
“He has a job, my angel.” Steve wasn’t at work, and you knew that he was planning on spending the night at home. But you hoped he was sleeping or doing something he actually enjoyed. He’d been so busy with work and wrangling your adopted children lately, you didn’t want to disturb him. “And other friends.”
“If you call him, he will come.” El says it so bluntly, it makes your heart stutter. She’s so sure of it.
“And it’s crazy you think he’d rather do anything else.” Max rolled her eyes. “He’s obsessed with you.”
You could feel the heat rushing to your face. You grabbed the phone, pulling the cord tight over the back of the couch. “Wanna order pizza?”
“They called you when they were supposed to be ordering the pizza, didn’t they?”
“Yep,” Steve said, popping the ‘p’ and not even bothering to hide his grin. He slipped past you, pausing only to push a firm kiss to your cheek.
“I told them to leave you alone!” your swirled around, eyebrows raised and hands firmly planted on your hips. El and Max at least had the decency to look somewhat chastised. “You’re supposed to be relaxing!”
“Spending time with my girls is relaxing.”
Okay, there was no way you could complain after that. El and Max scampered off the couch, following Steve into your kitchen where he had dumped the bags.
“Okay, strawberry for El,” he said, mostly to himself. “And vanilla for Max.” He pulled out one more pint, in your favorite flavor.
You shouldn’t be surprised that he had gone overboard. Three pints of ice cream, and all the toppings that you could dream of were already littered across the counter. And there were several bags to go.
“Stevie, this is too much.” You insisted, crossing your arms. God, was he pouting?
“You never let me spoil you!”
“The number one rule of having a boyfriend is that you have to let him spoil you.” Max said, the words muddled around the half bar of chocolate that she had managed in one bite. El nodded emphatically, rifling through one of the bags and pulling out a box of Eggos.
Steve’s eyes were wide as he gestured in agreement. “See? They get it.” Steve rummaged through your drawers, finding an ice cream scoop easily, like he’d done it a million times.
You reached for the cabinet with the bowls, but Steve’s hand snatched yours out of the air. “Baby, go sit down. We’ll make you a sundae, right girls?” Steve’s eyes were wide and pleading, and he knew he’d already won.
You nodded, reveling in the kiss he placed on the back of your hand, squeezing a few times before letting it drop. You stumbled back into the living room, plopping on the couch and letting the sounds of Steve arguing good naturedly with the girls wash over you.
A few hours later, and you’d all eaten through half of the ice cream, cried through the ending of E.T. and someone avoided getting reprimanded for the way that you and Steve were tangled on the couch together. He had one of your hands between both of his on his chest, gently playing with your hand and lightly kissing your fingerprints at irregular intervals.
You hadn’t planned on the girls staying over, but they’d fallen asleep before the trailers had finished on the second VHS. You’d cleared it with Hop and Mrs. Mayfield before Steve had carefully carted them both into your parent’s guest room.
The two of you were snuggled on the couch together, a movie playing softly in the background, though neither of you were paying it all that much attention. Steve was warm and the blanket he’d pulled off the back of the couch was soft against your skin. His chin was tucked on top of your head while he pulled you tight against his chest.
“Think you could get used to this, honey?”
“Used to what?”
“All of it.” You caught his gaze wandering around the room, taking in the aftermath of a successful night with your girls. Used cotton rounds scattered across the coffee table, a half finished bowl of popcorn and seemingly every blanket in a five mile radius piled up on the rug.
Your heart twisted, because you knew exactly what he meant. You reached for one of his hands, carefully testing to make sure the bright pink polish had dried before threading your fingers together. You weren’t surprised at how easily he’d gone along with their request to paint his nails, and you weren’t surprised at the butterflies it’d set off in your stomach.
Steve didn’t wait for an answer before continuing. “Wanna come home to this every day.”
“Didn’t think you were in the market for more roommates.” you laughed, softly.
Steve rolled his eyes, but the hearts in them were more obvious than ever. “Kind of rude to call our future kids roommates, if you ask me. I imagined them looking a lot more like you than those two do, anyways.”
“Stevie,” you grumbled, hiding your face in his chest. You felt him smile against the top of your head. Flustering you was one of his favorite pastimes.
“I’m serious, baby. Know you’d be the best mom,” he sighed, “Too sweet not to be.”
You chanced a peek up at him, and the sight took your breath away. His eyes were shut, a tiny smile tugging at the corner of his lips and a little blush dusting over his cheekbones, tinting his freckles pink.
It wasn’t the first time the two of you had talked about this. It was always like this, hushed wishes and warm words. You’d get lost thinking about Steve cuddling a tiny baby, probably born with a full head of hair if his genes had anything to say about it. You couldn’t help but think he’d thrive as a dad. How easily he’d fall into the rhythm of school pick up and soccer practice. And you wanted him to have all of it.
You sat up, forcing him to open his eyes at the loss of contact. He leaned forward, instinctively chasing you. “Are you sure it’s gotta be six, Stevie?” You asked meekly.
“I’ll take as many as you want to give me, honey. One? twenty? Doesn’t matter. Whatever makes you happy.” His eyes went soft.
“Stevie, you give in too easily!” you laughed, swatting at his chest. He caught your hand, placing exaggerated kisses up the length of your arm.
He’d reached your face, settling kisses easily across your cheeks and the tip of your nose. “Wrong.” he mumbled, too focused on his new mission.
“Wrong?!” you hissed, careful not to yell and wake up the girls.
“Mmhmm,” he hummed, the vibration tickling your neck. “It’s not giving in if I want my girl happy and healthy.”
“Thought you wanted enough Harringtons to stock a basketball team?”
“Priorities changed.”
You grinned, leaning your forehead against his. “Don’t deserve you.”
You felt Steve sigh, pulling you tight against him. “Good news. You don’t have to earn me.” You were sure he could feel your heart stutter through your pajama top. “Besides, you're dead wrong about that. I’m way out of my league, here angel.” You were readying your rebuff, when his thumb found your cheek. “Just let me have this one, baby. You’re out of nail polish remover and Robin isn’t gonna let me hear the end of it when I show up with my manicure tomorrow.”
“Fine, we’ll have however many hypothetical children I want.”
“Perfect.” he whispered, in a tone that you know he meant more than just letting you win the argument.
Steve whose wrapped around your finger and can’t help but give in everytime you ask for a kiss or hug or to be held, will literally drop what he’s doing
Oh I’m soooooooooooo aaaaaaaaaa <3 <3
Steve would fold completely as soon as he sees that pout on your lips and you’re asking him so sweetly, “Stevie, can I have a kiss?”
He wouldn’t dream of saying no.
No matter how many times you ask, each time his head spins like he’s never heard the question before.
At first he’s a little confused why you even bother asking. You could come up and smack your lips on to his, no questions asked, and he’d allow it every time.
He comes to realise that you like it when he kisses you, specifically. You like the way he leans into you, the way he reaches for your face or your waist to bring you closer.
So you ask him whenever the feeling of want strikes you.
Which is pretty often, and can be at inconvenient times.
You poke your head into the shower when he’s washing his hair. Steve is about to say something suggestive about you hopping in too but before he can, you ask, “kiss, please?”
He stops his lathering, brings a sudsy hand to your cheek and presses his lips to yours. You smile against him and you feel him do the same.
When you pull away, having gotten what you wanted, you draw the curtain back and leave the bathroom like you haven’t just left Steve soapy and dripping like nothing happened.
It’s not just kisses you ask so nicely for.
One day you show up unannounced at Family Video. The bell above the door rings as you walk in and you giggle when you see Steve’s hair pop up from between the shelves.
“Baby, what are you doing here?” He’s striding over to you, completely abandoning the stack of tapes he’s supposed to be shelving.
“I just wanted a hug,” you say, your voice small like you’re a little nervous about it.
Steve chuckles, not in a teasing way but like he genuinely can’t believe you came all this way just for that – just for him.
“C’mere then,” he says as he snakes his arms around you. He squeezes you tight and you return his grasp, clutching at his green work vest.
The two of you stay like that, in the middle of the store, for a while.
At one point you hear Robin come out from the break room and mumble ‘Jesus Christ…’ as she averts her eyes from the sickening sight of the two of you swaying to some imaginary music.
When you finally part, you go to walk out the door but Steve’s hand holds on to yours not letting you leave just yet.
“Wait,” he says. Then he says something that he’s heard you ask many, many times, but never said himself – until now, “can I have a kiss?”
You think to yourself if you are half as cute as Steve is when you ask, it’s no wonder he’s down bad for you. Those big brown eyes plead with you, his supple lips pouting as he patiently waits for your answer.
You don’t say anything, just step back into his space, snake your hands around his waist, underneath his vest, and ever so slowly kiss him.
Steve lets you take the lead for once as your tongue swipes at his lips. He opens up for you just for a moment, your tongues softly brushing against each other in a way that feels just about socially acceptable to do in the middle of Steve’s workplace. (Luckily it’s a Tuesday afternoon and the only person there to witness the moment is Robin, much to her dismay.)
He rests his forehead on yours when you’re finished.
“Anything else?” You whisper.
“I can think of a few things but I think we’ll have to save them for later.”
“Hmm.” You nod as a few more things spring to mind for you. “Well, you can always write them down, you know, so you don’t forget.”
“Oh, there’s no way I’ll forget.”
As you exit the store, Steve stays staring at the empty space in front of him as if he can see the imprints of your shoes in the carpet.
“Man, you got it bad, my friend,” Robin comments.
“So bad,” Steve sighs.
And he wouldn’t have it any other way.
Additionally, I would probably also just make grabby hands at Steve constantly to get him to cuddle me…….. need that rn :((((
My crappy day may be over soon but if you still wanna send me fluffy Steve thoughts… I’m all ears <3
can i get red velvet cake with chocolate ganache, sunshine sparkles, mini marshmallows, and shiny pearls pls? thank you!!! :)
Wrapped In You
Steve Harrington x sunshine!reader 1k words
Smut + Established relationship + Grumpy x sunshine + Fixing injuries + Cuddling
While Steve Insists he’s fine, you refuse to leave until every cut is cleaned and while trying to take care of him, things get a little carried away…
“Sit—sit still!” Your hands roughly pushed on Steve’s shoulders before he could swing his legs off the bed. He had just stumbled out of the upside down covered in cuts, and as much as you knew he liked to brush things off, he couldn’t escape you this time.
“I’m fine.” Steve shook his head, but dropped back down against the headboard unwillingly.
“Oh, that’s funny.” You said, setting all the supplies beside you on the blanket.
“It wasn’t a joke.” He rolled his eyes at you, always the frowny one.
“I know,” you stared at him. “Thats the funny part.”
Steve sighed through his nose, already trying to prop himself up one elbow again to get a better look at you. “I can clean it myself.”
“And rob me of the joy of bossing you around?” You gasped dramatically. “Absolutely not.”
“It’s just a scratch.” Steve tried to no avail.
“Don’t try getting up again, or I’m going to hit you harder than that demogorgon did.” You weren’t joking, though a reluctant smile tugged at the corner of his mouth before he caught himself and schooled it back into a serious expression. “Now, take your shirt off.”
Steve looked at you with a raised brow. “You don’t want to take me out to dinner first?” He asked with a suggestive tone.
“Always the flirt.” You snorted, carefully peeling his blood-speckled shirt over his head. Your smile softened, under the warm light of your bedroom, the damage was easier to see. Long angry scratches crossed his chest and ribs, bruised already blooming beneath his skin.
Steve noticed you had gone quiet. “It really doesn’t hurt that—”
“Shush.” You cut him off gently. “I’m just glad you’re okay.” You dipped a cloth into warm water and began swiping away at the dried blood. When you neared a particularly sore spot, it earned a tiny hiss from him.
You looked up. “See?” Steve exhaled sharply. “I told you.”
He only grumbled something you couldn’t hear in response, as you reached for the bottle of antiseptic. As soon as the cotton pad touched one of his cuts, Steve sucked in a harsh breath, his whole body flinching.
“Fuck—” you immediately pulled back, looking at him with wide eyes.
“Sorry! Sorry, it stings.” He clenched his teeth, giving a short nod. Without thinking, you leaned in and pressed a quick kiss to the corner of his mouth.
Steve blinked in surprise. “…What was that for?” He asked.
“A bravery reward.” You shrugged, though you did want to make him feel better. You flushed a little, and for the first time all evening, Steve’s scowl completely cracked.
His shoulders loosened just slightly from all the tension he had been carrying, he reached up, fingers pausing your hands before gently tugging you closer.
“If that’s the reward…” his lips found yours this time, slower than your stolen peck. It was warm and lingering, when pulled back there was the faintest smile playing on his lips. “Maybe I have one hurting on the inside.”
You narrowed your eyes, trying not to squirm while his kisses drifted down to your neck, pushing your hair back. “Steve, I’m not done yet.” You huffed.
He tilted his head, wearing the most innocent expression you’ve ever seen on someone guilty. “But I just wanna love on you a little bit. After all, the whole time we were down there I couldn’t stop thinking about you.”
Your mouth was agape, having no response as he slowly rolled you both over, hands taking both your wrists in one to hold above your head. “You’re unbelievable, you know that?” You chuckled.
Steve grinned at you, face inches away from yours. “Stop pretending like you don’t like it, baby.” He leaned down to kiss you again breathlessly, your back arched up towards him, you couldn’t deny he was right.
“Steve, please…” you still couldn’t touch him no matter how hard you tugged, his hold remained tight, leaving you only able to beg.
Steve’s other hand traced down your body, finding your waistband and lowering it enough to expose yourself to him. Pushing your panties to the side, his finger ran through your folds, smirking at the gasp that escaped you.
“So wet, already?” He tsked. “I haven’t even done anything to you yet.” He didn’t wait for you to respond, slipping a finger inside and thrusting it in and out slowly as you moaned.
“M-More, it’s not enough.” You whispered weakly, your clit was aching and his slow movements weren’t helping either.
“More, hm?” Steve cocked his head. “Wasn’t aware you were the one in charge, maybe it’s time I remind you how desperate you are for me, sunshine.”
You nodded rapidly, despite your prior hesitation, seeing Steve above you with his naked chest and hair falling into face, eyes ablaze as he stared down at you with not only desire, but love, you needed him just as badly.
He smiled, letting go of your hands to quickly remove your shirt and unclasp your bra. You pulled him back down for a kiss, Steve wiggled out of his pants and palmed his cock, hard and heavy for you.
You couldn’t help but reach between your bodies to guide his tip towards your entrance, unable to wait for another moment. Steve laughed, intertwining your hand in his. “Slow down, baby. Don’t hurt yourself.”
Your head rocked back against the pillow at the feeling of him finally entering you deeply, until he bottomed out and you were both panting. “God, you feel—fuck, I love you so much.” Steve groaned, pulling out just to thrust back in harshly, setting a passionate pace.
“Ohh, Steve—don’t stop!” You moaned, biting on your lip to contain your sounds of pleasure.
“Lemme hear you, baby. Let me hear how good I’m fucking you.” His cock hit that spongy spot inside of you, and you cried out loudly, squeezing your eyes shut.
Steve’s hand found your clit, rubbing circles that matched the speed he was thrusting into you. He brought one of your legs up onto his shoulder, the angle deepened, making you see stars.
“Shit—mmm, ‘m close.” You tried speaking, though it was impossible every time he forced himself back in.
“Cum for me, baby. You always take care of me so well—just wanna be good enough for you.” Steve spoke honestly, words rooting from a place of insecurity where he didn’t always feel like he was the right man for you.
“You—you’re perfect, Steve. Oh fuck, I’m cumming.” Your whole body shook, he wasn’t far off, burying his head into the crook of your neck as you shared your highs together.
Only when a few minutes passed, did Steve climb off of you, face painted with a picture of relaxation that hadn’t been there before. “You mean everything to me, you know that?” He brought your head to lay on his chest, you obeyed willingly.
“Good.” You giggled, snuggling even closer. “Because you’re kind of my favorite person.”
No one could wipe the smile off of Steve’s face if they tried. “Good, I’m not letting you go anytime soon.” He lifted the blanket higher around you.
“Wait, I didn’t finish patching you up.” You mentioned worriedly,
“Get some rest and I’ll let you finish, sunshine.” Steve replied, not wanting to leave your warmth just yet.
“Alright, Stevie.” You yawned, giving up much too quickly. For now, with his heartbeat steady beneath your ear and his arms around you, everything else faded into the background.
mayyyy I request a vanilla caramel crunch with sunshine sprinkles?? Maybe an odd pairing but I’d love to see how you make it workkkk
Favorite Part Of My Day
Steve Harrington x sunshine!reader 600 words
Hurt/comfort + Secret Crush + Grumpy x Sunshine
You’re usually the brightest part of Steve’s day, filling every quiet moment with your presence. So when you suddenly stop talking, he’s determined to find out why and make sure you never have to shrink yourself again
Steve liked to pretend he didn’t pay much attention to people, didn’t care when they ignored him, or when they talked to him either. But by the fifth time you’d frown that day, thinking no one was looking, he couldn’t take it anymore.
He lasted approximately twenty seconds before slamming a vhs case onto the counter. “Okay, what happened?” Steve crossed his arms, waiting.
Your head snapped up, blinking innocently. “Nothing happened.”
“Bull.” He didn’t buy it for a moment, you couldn’t help the tiny smile that tugged at your lips. “See,” Steve muttered. “Now c’mon, tell me.”
You busied yourself by playing around with the charm bracelets stacked on your wrist. “It’s stupid.” You shrugged.
“So? I’ve had people say a lot of stupid shit, it doesn’t phase me.” Steve didn’t miss a beat.
“Someone just…” you sighed. “They told me I talk too much.” You avoided his gaze.
Steve stared for a moment. “Thats all?” He asked.
“I mean—” You laughed awkwardly. “Maybe they’re right. I can get kind of excited and I ramble and I don’t always know when to stop talking and—”
“Who said that?” His voice cut through yours so sharply you instantly froze.
“What?” You asked, confused.
“Give me their name.” He remained steadfast.
You looked at him with wide eyes, sputtering out your words. “It doesn’t matter.” You shook your head.
“It matters to me, they hurt your feelings.” Steve’s jaw tensed for the briefest moment, so fleeting you’d have missed it if you blinked. “Whoever said that can keep their mouth shut.”
A surprised laugh escaped you, though there was no humor behind his expression. “I’m serious.” His brows pulled together into that familiar permanent scowl he always wore. “What kind of asshole tells someone to stop talking?”
Your heart skipped, Steve rubbed the back of his neck like he was annoyed he even had to explain it. “You know what’s annoying?” His voice softened only slightly.
You sniffled, giving him a small smile, the first you’ve worn all day. “What?”
“You being quiet.” He explained, your breath catching as his gaze flickered around the room before returning back to you. “I mean…” he frowned, like the words physically hurt to say. “You fill the room.”
Heat rushed to your cheeks, but Steve, being completely oblivious to the secret crush you harbored on him, kept going. “You tell me random facts I didn’t ask for, you constantly interrupt yourself because you remembered something even more important.”
You let out a mortified groan, not knowing that’s how he saw you. “And somehow,” he rolled his eyes. “It became my favorite part of the day.”
Everything inside you stopped, he sighed heavily, trying to act like it didn’t bother him as much as it did. “So if some idiot thinks you talk too much,” he scoffed. “They can take it up with me instead.”
You couldn’t look at him anymore, only nodding slowly. Steve frowned, “why are you so red?” He tilted his head at you.
“I-I’m not,” you denied shakily.
Steve leaned a little closer, only making your case even worse. “Are you sick?” He questioned.
You covered your face with both hands, mumbling out weakly. “No.”
He sighed dramatically, “great, now I have two problems.”
You peaked between your fingers, blinking at him. “Two problems?” You repeated.
Steve pointed outwards. “One idiot who made you sad,” then he pointed at you. “And you refusing to smile at me.”
Your heart melted so quickly you were surprised it was still beating at all.
Steve crossed his arms again, narrowing his eyes at you. “So,” he nudged your shoulder. “Can I have my sunshine back now?”
And who were you not to give him what he desperately asked for?
18+ smut!! light nipple play, curvy!reader, established relationship, pet names (baby, sweetheart), reader with boobs, female reader, no use of y/n, she/her pronouns for reader.
wc: 852
You huff at your reflection, your favourite bra that had once been a perfect fit now feeling a little too snug. You watch as the tops of your breasts begin spill out over the cups as you try to adjust the straps.
"I think I need to get remeasured," you say to your boyfriend, who had definitely not been watching you get changed for dinner from his spot on the bed.
“Hmm?” Steve hums distractedly, too busy staring at your chest to really notice that the book he was pretending to read was upside down. “Sorry—what did you say, baby?”
The corners of your mouth lift and you turn to look at him—one of your nipples peaking out over the top of your bra which causes Steve’s eyes to widen comically.
“I said,” you begin, making no move to adjust the cup as you watch his tongue dart out to lick his lips. “That I need to get remeasured. My tits are spilling out.”
“Are they?” Steve asks nonchalantly, his eyes shifting up to your face and sparkling with amusement. “I didn’t even notice.”
You laugh, shaking your head as you turn back around to look once again at your reflection. “You’re so full of shit, Stevie.” You tell him affectionately, your cheeks warming and stomach fluttering as you hear the creak of the bed as Steve gets to his feet. You watch in the mirror as he walks toward you with that look on his face that made heat flare in your gut.
“I can measure them for you, baby,” Steve insists, his arms wrapping around your waist and pulling you flush against him. You try not to react as he presses himself against you, the evidence of his growing arousal now pressing against your ass.
“How would you—”
But you get your answer in the form of one of Steve’s large hands cupping your breasts and squeezing.
“Steve!” you scold him but make absolutely no attempt to swat his hand away as he kneads the flesh with reverence.
“Just being thorough,” he tells you, leaning in to press a wet kiss to your neck, his tongue stroking the flesh gently just to watch you squirm in his arms. “Stand still, sweetheart. M’trying to concentrate here.”
“You’re not—”
But words fail you as soon as Steve’s free hand reaches behind your back to unhook your bra.
The moment that your breasts spill free, Steve lets out a low groan that shoots through your body like lightning. he wastes absolutely no time in throwing it unceremoniously across the room while his free hand turns you around to face him. His eyes drag over your body—over every curve, every dip that he had been obsessed over the past few months of being together.
“Beautiful,” he murmurs, causing your face to warm as both of his hands squeeze and knead your breasts. You have to bite back a moan as his thumb brushes over one of your nipples, the feeling sending heat straight to your core.
“Stevie,” you whine, arching your back and pressing your breasts even more into his palms and causing a smile to break out across his face as he catches the all too familiar signs of arousal dancing across your face.
“Yeah, baby?” he asks you gently, dipping his head down to run his tongue between the valley of your breasts. Your head tilts back and you let out of a soft whimper as his lips meander their way towards one of your pebbled peaks, his hot breath leaving a trail of goosebumps in their wake.
“You wanna know what I think?” Steve murmurs, his lips hovering a breath away from your sensitive skin—the act making every nerve in your body buzz, makes the blood running through your veins hum. His other hand still kneads your other breast while the wet heat of his tongue darts out to play with your nipple like he had all the time in the world, like you didn’t have a dinner reservation in twenty minutes.
“I asked you a question,” Steve murmurs through a mouthful of your tit, his eyes on your face as he swirls his tongue around your stiff peak. “I said—y’wanna know what I think?”
“Yes,” you gasp breathlessly, your fingers curling into the front of his shirt as you try to pull him even closer, as though trying to fuse your bodies together.
Steve pulls his lips away from you, your nipple now coated in his saliva and you whine at the loss of contact. Steve tuts at the sound and gives your other breast a final squeeze before he pulls away from that one too.
“I think they’re the perfect size,” he tells you with a toothy grin—one that plainly told you he was seeing the want in your eyes but wasn’t going to do a damn thing about it. Yet.
“Steve—”
“Later,” he promises with a smug grin before he presses a soft kiss to the corner of your mouth as though his hardening cock wasn’t pressing against your hip. “We’ve got a dinner to go to.”
Idk if im in the first 10 , but my req is for Steve harrington + fluff + number 12 pleaseeee
hi lovely!!
you absolutely made it into the first ten, don't worry!
i loved this prompt the second i added it because i immediately thought of falling asleep in steve's passenger seat no joke, so i'm so glad somebody requested this one for steve pahah
i hope this is soft enough to make your heart ache in the nicest possible way <3
right where you left me
Steve Harrington x reader
Prompt: #12. One person falls asleep somewhere they absolutely shouldn't.
Warnings/tags: 18+ ONLY, minors DNI, no use of y/n, established relationship, fluff, sleepy!reader, protective!steve, tiny acts of service, kissing (lmk if i missed anything)
W/C: 4.8k
Read more of my writing here: [masterlist]
If you want to be added to my taglist, leave a comment to lmk!
Saturday mornings have a habit of quietly turning into jobs neither of you had ever actually intended to do.
This one begins with Steve standing in the middle of his driveway, hands planted firmly on his hips as he stares at the BMW with an expression usually reserved for particularly difficult demogorgons or supermarket trolleys with a wonky wheel. He doesn't say anything for a long moment, simply looking at it as though hoping it might somehow clean itself through the sheer force of being judged.
Eventually, he lets out a long sigh.
"It is," he announces with all the solemnity of someone delivering genuinely unfortunate news, "finally time."
You step out of the front door balancing two mugs of coffee, glancing between Steve and the perfectly innocent-looking car.
"...Time for what?"
He lifts one hand and gestures dramatically towards it.
"This."
"The car?"
"The disaster."
You look it over, taking your time. From the outside, it seems perfectly respectable. A little dusty around the wheel arches, perhaps, with a fine layer of pollen coating the bonnet, but nothing that really justifies the expression currently written across your boyfriend's face.
"I think you're being slightly dramatic."
"I'm not."
"It looks fine."
Steve simply walks over and opens the driver's door.
"Oh," you say.
"Yeah."
The inside tells an entirely different story.
The BMW doesn't look like it's been driven so much as lived in. Cassette tapes spill from the centre console every time the door moves. Receipts are wedged into cup holders, folded into door pockets, and somehow tucked behind the sun visor. Enough loose pens are rolling around the footwells to stock a small stationery cupboard, while a faded baseball glove lies abandoned behind the passenger seat beneath an old jumper, three different pairs of sunglasses and what appears to be an empty crisp packet that has long since accepted this as its permanent home.
You've been in this car most days for the past few years since you and Steve started dating. You're honestly baffled that you've never noticed quite how much of a mess the car is before. To be fair, with a boyfriend as attractive as Steve Harrington, you don't spend much time looking anywhere other than directly at him.
You blink once. "...Steve."
"I know."
"How does this even happen?"
"I genuinely don't know."
"You drive this car every day."
"I've become emotionally attached to the mess."
"You've become emotionally attached to rubbish."
He accepts one of the coffees from you with a grateful smile. "That's a much meaner way of saying it."
You laugh, climbing into the passenger seat while Steve begins pulling armfuls of miscellaneous clutter from the back. Robin has been telling him to clean the BMW for months now, loudly insisting every single time she gets in that she's one coffee cup away from needing protective equipment. Steve, naturally, has ignored every word she's said.
"She called it a biohazard last week," you remind him as you reach into the glove compartment.
"I think she was exaggerating."
"I think she was being generous."
"Hurtful."
Your hand closes around something unexpectedly familiar. "...Steve."
"What now?"
You pull it free.
Robin's Walkman.
The very same Walkman she'd spent the better part of six months accusing Eddie of stealing, complete with a faded strip of masking tape across the front bearing her name in thick black marker.
Steve stares at it for a long, silent moment before rubbing the back of his neck. "...I've been looking for that."
"You've been sitting on it for six months."
"I wondered where it'd gone."
"You literally drive this car."
"I don't appreciate your tone."
"My tone is entirely justified."
"I think it's becoming increasingly hostile."
You can't stop yourself laughing.
Cleaning the BMW quickly proves to be less of a tidy-up and more of an archaeological excavation through Steve Harrington's recent history. Every compartment seems to reveal something stranger than the last. Cinema tickets from almost a year ago are tucked between the seats. Half a packet of Polos has somehow fused together into one suspiciously solid mint-shaped brick. There's a road atlas folded so many times it's developed entirely new creases, along with three cassette tapes labelled in Steve's unmistakable handwriting: Driving Mix, Sad Songs, and Definitely Not Robin's.
You hold the last one up. "You actually labelled one 'Definitely Not Robin's'?"
"I was trying to remind myself."
"...Didn't work?"
"No."
"You could've fooled me."
By the time you've emptied the glove compartment, the driveway has become an organised mess of little piles. More time seems to pass in conversation than in actual cleaning, the two of you laughing far more often than you're accomplishing anything productive.
It feels wonderfully ordinary. Comfortable. The sort of afternoon that, on paper, shouldn't be memorable at all.
And yet, somewhere amongst the cassette tapes and coffee cups, Steve notices something else entirely.
You yawn. Not one dramatic yawn. Just small, quiet yawns that you immediately hide behind the back of your hand before offering him the same apologetic little smile every single time he catches you. As though you're hoping that if you smile quickly enough, he won't notice how tired you really are.
Unfortunately for you, Steve notices everything.
He's noticed for weeks now.
You've been quieter than usual lately. Not unhappy exactly. Just... worn down around the edges. Work has kept you late more evenings than either of you can count, and even when you finally make it home, sleep has stubbornly refused to cooperate.
"It's ridiculous," you'd sighed only a few nights earlier after he'd wandered into his kitchen at nearly one in the morning to find you making yourself a cup of tea instead of sleeping. "I'm exhausted all day, but then I actually get into bed and suddenly my brain decides now would be a great time to remember every awkward conversation I've ever had, every email I forgot to reply to, everything I've got to do tomorrow..."
You'd laughed after saying it, trying to make it sound smaller than it felt.
"I know none of it matters. My brain just... won't shut up."
Steve had wished, not for the first time, that there was something practical he could do.
He couldn't quiet your thoughts. He couldn't make work less demanding or magically convince your brain that two o'clock in the morning wasn't the ideal time to catastrophise about absolutely everything.
So instead, he'd simply started making you tea whenever he found you awake.
Sometimes he'd sit with you in silence until you felt tired enough to try again. Sometimes he'd rub slow circles across your back while you talked yourself through whatever was keeping you awake. Sometimes he'd just wrap an arm around your shoulders and let the quiet do the work instead.
Sometimes, loving somebody simply meant accepting that you couldn't solve every problem.
Only making sure they never had to face it alone.
By early afternoon, the worst of the chaos has finally begun to resemble something vaguely manageable.
The driveway is now covered in neat little piles that only the two of you could possibly understand. One stack is made up of things Steve insists absolutely need to stay in the car, despite your repeated arguments to the contrary. Another is destined for the bin, though Steve keeps rescuing items from it every few minutes after suddenly remembering the deeply sentimental value of a petrol receipt from eighteen months ago. The final pile has become what you privately refer to as the deal with it later collection - a growing assortment of objects neither of you can identify well enough to confidently throw away.
Steve surveys the scene with quiet satisfaction before wiping his hands on the front of his jeans.
"I'll sort this lot," he says, nodding towards the boxes still waiting beside the open trunk. "Can you see if there's anything left hiding in the glove compartment before I officially declare victory?"
You glance around at the state of the driveway, then back at him.
"You are wildly optimistic if you think we're anywhere near victory."
"I choose hope."
"You choose denial."
He considers that for a moment before shrugging. "Pretty much the same thing."
You shake your head fondly, unable to suppress another smile as you climb back into the passenger seat. Steve disappears around to the back of the car, humming absently to himself as he begins rummaging through yet another cardboard box he'd apparently forgotten existed.
The afternoon has settled into that peculiar, lazy warmth that seems to arrive only on weekends when there's nowhere else you particularly need to be. Both front windows are rolled all the way down, inviting a soft breeze through the car that carries the smell of freshly cut grass from somewhere further down the street. A neighbour is mowing their lawn in slow, methodical lines, the steady drone of the mower blending comfortably with the little portable radio balanced on the bonnet. Fleetwood Mac drifts quietly through the speakers, just loud enough to fill the silences without interrupting them.
For the first time all day, everything feels wonderfully still.
You turn your attention back to the glove compartment, only to discover that Steve's definition of nearly empty differs rather dramatically from reality.
There are more folded maps tucked into the back than should really be possible. Old insurance documents. Service receipts dating back years. A torch with no batteries. Two pens that definitely don't work anymore but have nevertheless survived every previous clean-out attempt. An unopened packet of chewing gum that's somehow expired three years ago.
You smile to yourself.
Some people collected memories in photo albums.
Steve, apparently, preferred storing his in the glove compartment of a BMW.
Your hand disappears a little further into the back, fingertips brushing against the corner of another cassette tape.
You pull it free carefully.
ROAD TRIP MIX.
The label has faded slightly with age, one corner beginning to peel away from the plastic, and Steve's handwriting is noticeably messier than it is now. The track list on the back has been squeezed into every available bit of space, songs crossing one another where he'd clearly remembered another favourite halfway through writing it.
You find yourself smiling as you read through them.
Springsteen, Fleetwood Mac, Tom Petty, The Eagles.
A couple of songs you know Steve still reaches for whenever the two of you drive anywhere together.
You turn the cassette over thoughtfully, tracing your thumb absent-mindedly across the handwritten title.
You wonder when he'd made it. Who it had been for. Whether he'd always intended to share it with somebody else, or whether, years ago, he'd simply been making a soundtrack for journeys he hadn't taken yet.
Maybe you'd have to ask him later.
The thought lingers for only a moment before something heavier settles over you instead.
Sleep.
Just a slow, creeping heaviness behind your eyes that you've become far too familiar with over the past few weeks.
You blink once. Then again. Your eyelids feel strangely reluctant to stay open.
The cool glass of the passenger window looks unexpectedly inviting, so you let your head rest gently against it while you continue reading through the rest of the cassette's track list, telling yourself you're only getting comfortable for a 30 seconds.
Or five minutes. That's all.
Steve's still sorting through the trunk. He'll be back any minute, probably carrying another mystery object and asking whether it belongs in the house or the car.
You'll close your eyes for ten minutes at most.
Just long enough to rest them.
He won't even notice.
Steve notices immediately.
He's halfway around the back of the car, another armful of hodgepodge balanced against his chest, when he starts talking before he's even fully rounded the corner.
"So, did you find anything else embarrass-"
The rest of the sentence quietly disappears.
"Oh."
He stops where he is.
For a moment, he simply stands there, still holding a cardboard box full of snacks, worn-looking books and what appears to be a single roller skate that neither of you remembers ever owning.
You're asleep.
Your head rests gently against the passenger window, cushioned now by nothing more than the sleeve of your jumper. One hand still curls loosely around the ROAD TRIP MIX cassette, your thumb resting absent-mindedly over Steve's faded handwriting as though you'd simply paused for a second and never quite started again. Your breathing is slow, deep and wonderfully even, the sort that only comes when somebody has slipped into sleep without ever meaning to.
Steve's shoulders soften almost immediately. "Oh, sweetheart..."
The words barely leave his lips, not because he's worried about waking you, but because somehow it feels wrong to disturb something so peaceful.
He'd been right. You'd been running on empty for far longer than either of you had admitted.
For a long moment, he doesn't move at all. He only watches you, taking in the way the afternoon light catches the wisps of hair that have escaped around your face, the faint rise and fall of your chest, the way your fingers relax a little more with every steady breath.
He can't remember the last time he'd seen you look this rested. The thought settles somewhere unexpectedly heavy in his chest.
The boxes waiting to be sorted suddenly seem spectacularly unimportant. Cleaning can wait. It'll still be here tomorrow.
You need this now.
The decision isn't really a decision at all.
Balancing the box carefully on the driveway, Steve crosses quietly to the driver's side and eases the door open a few inches, wincing instinctively when it gives its familiar little creak.
You don't stir, and he lets out the breath he'd been holding.
His hoodie is still lying crumpled across the back seat where he'd thrown it hours earlier after deciding the afternoon had become too warm for it. He reaches for it carefully, rolling it into a rough pillow before pausing beside you.
"Sorry, baby," he whispers, more out of habit than necessity.
With impossible care, he slips one hand beneath your head just enough to lift it a fraction from the glass. The movement is so gentle it almost doesn't register, and after a second he manages to tuck the folded hoodie into place before lowering you back down.
Instead of waking, you make the tiniest little contented sound. A sleepy hum, the kind people only make when they're completely unaware they're making it.
Steve has to physically stop himself smiling too widely.
"There we go."
You settle almost immediately, cheek sinking a little further into the makeshift pillow, your breathing evening out once again as though you'd never moved at all.
His heart honestly doesn't stand a chance.
He closes the driver's door as quietly as he can before glancing towards the portable radio still balanced on the bonnet. Fleetwood Mac continues drifting softly through the speakers, but he reaches over anyway, turning the volume down until the music becomes little more than a gentle murmur carried on the breeze.
Not off. Just quieter.
The world seems quieter too. The neighbour's lawnmower has finally stopped. A bird sings somewhere in the enormous oak tree at the end of the street. Leaves rustle softly overhead.
Steve is just beginning to congratulate himself on preserving the perfect conditions for an afternoon nap when he notices something else.
The sun.
It's shifted while the two of you have been cleaning, slowly creeping across the driveway until a bright stripe of light now stretches across the windscreen, inching steadily closer to your face.
He frowns. "...Hang on."
Climbing into the driver's seat again with all the exaggerated caution of somebody attempting to diffuse a bomb, Steve eases the door shut, starts the engine and waits.
You don't move. Not even a little.
Very slowly, he reverses the BMW a few metres beneath the shade cast by the huge oak tree bordering the driveway before switching the engine off again almost immediately.
Silence settles once more.
Still asleep.
Steve grins to himself. "Mission accomplished."
Minutes later, coffee in hand - long since cold but apparently no longer important - he leans comfortably against the bonnet and lets his gaze drift back towards you.
It isn't really because you're asleep. It's because you're finally resting.
The little crease that's lived between your eyebrows for weeks has disappeared completely, smoothed away by the kind of deep, accidental sleep your body has clearly been asking for all along. Even your shoulders seem looser somehow, no longer held in that constant, unconscious tension he'd become so used to seeing every time you came home from work.
He thinks about waking you. Briefly. Long enough to recognise the thought.
Then dismiss it just as quickly.
The cleaning isn't going anywhere. Neither is he.
If the universe has finally managed to convince you to get some proper sleep, Steve Harrington has absolutely no intention of being the idiot who interrupts it.
Naturally, this is the exact moment Robin decides to appear.
Steve doesn't notice her at first. He's too busy leaning comfortably against the bonnet, cold coffee forgotten in one hand, watching you sleep with the kind of quiet contentment that only ever seems to exist when the person you love is finally, finally getting the rest they've needed for far too long.
Which is precisely why the sudden screech of bicycle brakes at the end of the driveway almost causes him to spill his drink.
"Harrington!"
Steve startles so violently he nearly jumps out of his skin.
His head snaps towards the sound just in time to see Robin wobble spectacularly on her bike as she swings into the driveway, one foot shooting out to stop herself toppling sideways.
Before she can say another word, Steve throws a hand into the air.
"Shh!"
Robin blinks. "...What?"
"Quiet."
"What?"
He glances immediately towards the BMW, checking that you haven't stirred, before lowering his voice to an urgent whisper "She's asleep."
Robin follows the direction of his pointing finger towards the passenger seat. For a moment, she says nothing. She simply peers through the open window. "...Seriously?"
Steve nods once. "So keep your voice down."
Robin looks back at you. Then at Steve. Then back at you again.
The silence stretches just long enough to make Steve suspicious, and when he looks at her again, she is wearing the slowest, most insufferable grin he has ever seen in his life.
"...You're disgusting."
He frowns. "What?"
"Look at your face."
"My face?"
"Yeah." She gestures vaguely in his direction. "You've got the biggest heart-eyes I've ever seen."
"I do not."
"You absolutely do."
"I look completely normal."
Robin actually laughs. "No, Steve. You look like somebody just handed you a puppy and then told you it'd never die."
"I am literally just letting my girlfriend sleep."
"I know."
"And that's bad?"
"No," she replies, dropping her voice into an exaggerated stage whisper despite the fact that nobody asked her to. "It's just so painfully adorable I'm finding it physically difficult to look directly at you."
Steve rolls his eyes so hard they're in genuine danger of disappearing into the back of his head. "You are unbelievable."
"No," Robin says. "You are down catastrophically."
"I'm not-"
"You moved the entire car into the shade."
Steve opens his mouth. Then closes it again.
Robin folds her arms triumphantly. "I noticed the tyre tracks."
"It was getting sunny."
"You made her a pillow."
"She was asleep against the window."
"You turned the radio down."
"It was too loud."
"You've been standing here drinking cold coffee for..." She glances theatrically at the watch she isn't wearing. "...what? Twenty minutes? Just watching her nap."
Steve's ears begin warming. "I wasn't watching."
Robin raises one eyebrow. "You absolutely were."
"I was... supervising."
She stares at him. "...Supervising."
"In case she woke up."
"And needed... what?"
"I don't know."
"Emotional support?"
He sighs. "...Maybe."
Robin bursts into laughter, clapping a hand over her mouth almost immediately when Steve shoots her a horrified look towards the car.
"Oh my God," she whispers, trying - and failing - to stop laughing. "You admitted it."
"What?"
"You're completely gone."
Steve rubs both hands down his face. "I've been gone for months."
Robin freezes. He freezes.
Slowly, they both look at each other.
"...Wait," Steve says.
Robin's grin somehow grows even wider. "You admitted that, too."
He groans. "...Don't."
"I've been gone for months," she repeats in a remarkably accurate impression of his voice. "Steve Harrington, ladies and gentlemen."
"I hate you."
"No, you don't."
"I really might."
"You love me."
"I tolerate you."
Robin snorts. "Sure you do."
Steve bends down, picks up the nearest damp sponge from the bucket beside him and points it threateningly in her direction. "I swear to God, Buckley..."
"You wouldn't."
"I absolutely would."
She raises both hands in surrender, still laughing far too hard to look particularly intimidated. "Okay, okay," she whispers. "I'll leave."
She pauses. One last glance towards the passenger seat. Then back at Steve, whose expression has softened all over again without him even noticing.
Robin smiles. A proper one this time. Smaller, kinder. "You know," she says quietly, "I'm only joking..."
Steve looks at her. "...I know."
"She really does look like she needed this."
His eyes drift instinctively back towards the car. "...Yeah."
For a second, neither of them says anything.
Robin follows his gaze through the passenger window, where you're still sleeping peacefully, one hand wrapped loosely around the old cassette tape as music continues playing so quietly it's almost swallowed by the breeze.
When she speaks again, her voice is gentler than before. "She's lucky."
Steve smiles to himself.
"No." His answer comes so naturally that he doesn't even think about it. "I'm the lucky one."
Robin watches him for another moment before shaking her head with a fond sigh. "God."
"What?"
"You really are down bad."
This time, Steve doesn't even bother denying it.
He just smiles.
You don't wake when Steve starts the engine.
He'd stood beside the car for the better part of five minutes before making the decision, his gaze drifting from the clutter still scattered across his driveway to your sleeping face, your cheek now resting comfortably against the hoodie he'd tucked behind your head. The driveway looks like a tornado hit a yard sale, cassette tapes and cardboard boxes abandoned exactly where you'd left them, but somehow none of it seems remotely important anymore.
The car can wait.
Not you.
After scribbling a quick note for his parents explaining why half the contents of the garage were now decorating the driveway, Steve climbs quietly into the driver's seat, closing the door with exaggerated care before starting the engine. Even so, he waits a moment, glancing instinctively towards you.
Nothing. You don't even stir.
Satisfied, he pulls away from the house.
He has never driven more carefully in his life.
Every corner is taken a little slower than necessary, every set of traffic lights approached with gentle braking, every speed bump negotiated at what Robin would almost certainly describe as grandad speed. The radio remains turned down until it's little more than a murmur beneath the sound of the engine, and every now and then his eyes drift briefly towards the passenger seat, checking that your head is still resting comfortably against the hoodie, that you haven't slipped into an awkward position, that you're still sleeping as peacefully as you had been twenty minutes earlier.
You never move. Not once.
Steve can't help smiling to himself.
You must have been so much more exhausted than either of you had realised.
By the time he turns onto your street, the smile hasn't left his face.
The tyres crunch softly over the gravel of your driveway before he eases the car to a stop and switches off the engine, the sudden quiet settling gently around the two of you.
Only then do you begin to wake.
It happens gradually, your eyebrows drawing together first as though your brain has noticed something changing before the rest of you has caught up. A second later, your eyes flutter open, still heavy with sleep, unfocused for a moment as you stare through the windscreen before blinking slowly at the unfamiliar view in front of you.
"...Steve?"
"I'm here." His voice is soft enough that it barely disturbs the silence inside the car.
You turn your head towards him, then look back through the windscreen again before glancing out at your front garden with obvious confusion. It takes several long seconds for everything to slot back into place, and when it finally does, horror spreads across your face with almost comical speed.
"...Did I..."
Steve smiles. "You fell asleep."
"Oh my God."
"You looked comfortable."
A groan escapes you as both hands fly up to cover your face. "I'm so sorry."
Steve frowns immediately. "For what?"
"I came over to help you clean your car."
"You did."
"I literally slept through it."
He shrugs as though you're pointing out the most ordinary thing in the world. "I got to look at you for twenty minutes."
You lower your hands just enough to peer at him. "...That's weird."
"A little."
"And?"
"Worth it."
A reluctant laugh escapes you before you can stop it, your embarrassment losing the battle almost immediately. Steve smiles to himself and reaches across the centre console, gently brushing an escaped strand of hair back behind your ear before pressing an absent-minded kiss against your forehead.
"I kinda wish you'd done it sooner."
Your smile softens. "What?"
"You haven't slept properly in weeks."
His thumb lingers lightly against your cheek for a second before falling away again, his expression becoming quieter than it had been all afternoon.
"I know you've been trying not to make a big deal out of it," he says gently. "But every time I've seen you lately, you've looked exhausted. Watching you actually get some proper sleep..." He smiles to himself, almost shyly. "...I don't know. It was nice."
Something tightens unexpectedly in your chest, and you look down at your hands.
"I didn't mean to fall asleep."
"I know."
"I feel bad."
"Don't." The answer comes so quickly it almost interrupts you. "You needed that nap a hell of a lot more than I needed a clean car."
You're quiet for a while after that, looking towards the front door of your house before glancing back across at him. "...Will you stay?"
Steve doesn't even pretend to think about it.
"Yeah." The answer arrives so quickly it almost makes you laugh.
He climbs out first, walking around to the passenger side before you even have a chance to reach for the handle yourself. The door swings open, warm afternoon air drifting back into the car as he offers you a hand.
You accept it automatically.
The second your feet touch the ground, your legs wobble ever so slightly beneath you, still heavy with sleep.
Steve notices immediately, reaching out to steady you. "I've got you."
"I'm awake."
"Barely."
"I can walk."
"I'm sure you can." He smiles. "I'm still carrying you."
Before you can begin protesting properly, one arm slips carefully behind your knees while the other settles around your back, lifting you effortlessly into his arms.
"Oh, honestly," you sigh, though the smile tugging at your mouth rather undermines any real annoyance.
He just smirks at you, amused.
"You know," you murmur, looping your arms comfortably around his neck as he starts towards the house, "you're very bossy."
"So I've been told."
"You've got a bit of a hero complex."
"I definitely do."
"And you're not even denying it."
"Seems pointless."
You laugh quietly against his shoulder. "I suppose that's fair."
The house is silent when Steve nudges the front door open with his foot, warm late-afternoon sunlight stretching lazily across the hallway. He carries you through as though it's the most natural thing in the world before lowering you carefully onto the sofa in the sitting room.
Only... neither of you actually move away afterwards.
At some point, without either of you consciously deciding it, one of the blankets draped over the back of the sofa finds its way across both your laps. You curl instinctively into Steve's side, your head settling comfortably against his shoulder while his arm wraps loosely around you, fingers drifting absent-mindedly through your hair in slow, soothing strokes.
"You know," he murmurs after a while, "I was fully planning on finishing that car today."
"Mhm."
"I don't think that's gonna happen."
You smile without opening your eyes. "I think it'll survive."
"I think so too."
Silence settles comfortably around the room again.
Outside, the afternoon carries on exactly as it always would. Cars pass occasionally along the road. Somewhere nearby, somebody laughs in a neighbouring garden. The world continues quite happily without either of you.
Inside, however, the sofa has become infinitely more appealing than productivity.
Steve looks down after a few quiet minutes.
Your breathing has already begun to slow again, your body relaxing instinctively against his with the unmistakable heaviness of someone drifting back towards sleep.
He can't help smiling.
"You've gotta be kidding me," he whispers fondly.
You make a tiny sleepy sound in response but don't wake.
Instead, you simply curl a little closer into him.
Steve laughs quietly under his breath before leaning his head gently against yours, closing his own eyes only a few minutes later.
The BMW can wait until tomorrow.
Making sure you finally catch up on some sleep can't.
a/n: everytime i post i be like “im back!!!” and then disappear for another week or so. i really wanna be more active again so send me some new requests if u wanna! i hope u guys like this, ive been sitting on this request for a while bc i loved it but wanted it to be perf. thanks to the anon that sent it in ur amazing
word count: 3.8k (it was only right to serve u guys a full course meal after starving u for so long)
for as long as you and steve had been friends, you never fought. sure, you butted heads a lot, but it was in a way that balanced out. you were level-headed and kept steve in line.
you know steve well enough to give him space when he’s in a mood, not to suffocate him but still be there for you. and he always let you. you were the only person he tolerated when he wasn’t feeling his best.
today was different. you’d strolled into scoops ahoy like any other day, walking up to the counter to chat with robin. the partition on the window into the back was closed and you flickered your gaze to it.
“he’s back there. in a pissy mood though.” robin says lowly and you frown but nod. she goes back to wiping the counter while you dip behind it and over to the door. you push it open slowly and peak your head in. steve is standing at the small counter cutting up fresh fruit to restock the toppings bar.
you enter all the way and lean against the door frame.
“hey sailor,” you say softly. steve only looks at you through his lashes, never stopping his chopping. you bit your lip to keep your frown from deepening as you step closer to him.
“you okay, stevie?”
“what are you doing back here?”
you recoil at his words and your brows knit together in confusion. “i came to see you, like usual. robin said you were upset.”
steve stops chopping and finally looks up at you.
“i don’t need you checking up on me. i’m fine.”
“i was just checking, steve. don’t bite my head off. god, what shit in your cereal this morning?” you scoff, crossing your arms.
“nothing, jesus y/n! i just don’t need you hovering over me twenty four seven!” steve’s voice raises and it makes you flinch. if he noticed, he didn’t say.
“screw you, steve. i haven’t done anything wrong! you’re the one being an asshole for no reason.”
“no, you’re just up my ass all the time! god, at least when i spent all my time with nancy, i didn’t have to worry about her being so damn suffocating.”
his words hit you like a bus. you freeze, staring at steve with wide eyes. his body was angled half towards you, but he avoided you gaze.
the heavy rise and fall of his breath seemed to echo in the deafening silence that fell upon the room.
“you’re right. because unlike nancy, i actually give a shit about you. excuse me for not living up to the standards of your shitty ex girlfriend. have a good shift, steve.” your tone is sharp, dripping in venom as you push through the door and back out into the lobby of scoops. robin stares at you, shock evident on her face, but you don’t look her way as you walk from behind the counter and out of the parlor.
robin watches your figure disappear across the food court before she throws the window to the back room open. steve is on the other side, fists clenching the counter in a white-knuckle grip.
“i’ll need a new whiteboard for how many ‘you sick’ tallies i’m about to give you.”
-
you went straight home after leaving the mall, locking yourself in your room not even coming out when your mom called for dinner.
you didn’t even realize how much time had passed, your eyes were trained on the ceiling and not on the setting sun outside.
around 9:30, there were taps at your window. you let out a sigh, knowing the only person that would be knocking on your window this late was steve.
you pull yourself out of bed, stealing a quick glance in your mirror to make sure any evidence of earlier tears was gone.
seeing steve on the other side, looking in at you with puppy eyes made something twist in your chest. still, you frown as you walk up to the window, unlatching and sliding it up.
you step back a step, crossing your arms expectantly.
steve’s hair is a mess, no doubt having spent the rest of his day running a stressed hand through it.
“uh, hey. can we talk?” his voice is soft, unsure, and it makes you feel bad.
you don’t say anything, choosing to walk back over to your bed, leaving the window open as a response.
steve, rather ungracefully, climbs into your room and walks over to your bed. he lingers a couple of feet away, feeling awkward. it was a stark contrast to how he normally makes himself at home in your space.
“listen, i’m sorry. i shouldn’t have said what i said. i got into a fight with my father before work, a pretty ugly one, and i was just frustrated and i took it out on you. it’s not an excuse, it was shitty and i wish i could take it back. i didn’t mean it. i love the way you care about me.”
it was the most sincere you’d ever heard steve. a part of you felt awful, knowing the tension between him and his father had been worse lately with steve’s college rejections. you couldn’t blame him for being on edge.
“i understand. it still wasn’t fair that you took it out on me. what you said hurt.” your voice was soft but there was a hint of forgiveness in your tone. steve picked up on it and smiled, moving to sit next to you in your bed.
“i know, it was shitty. i wasn’t even thinking about you when i said it. it just came out.” he says through a half laugh.
something in your stomach twists and you recoil.
“hah, of course not. you never do think about me or my feelings, do you?” you spit, pushing off from your bed. steve’s face twists in confusion and that kicked puppy look returns to his face.
“huh?”
“you really don’t see it do you? of course you don’t. clearly you’re still to wrapped up in the girl who was awful to you. but what did i expect, following in nancy wheeler’s perfect shadow?”
“y/n, i-“
“just leave, steve. please.”
“but-“
“leave!” your tone sharpens as you walk over to the window, staring at him with an icy gaze.
wordlessly, steve rising from your bed and walks over to the window. his eyes are glassy in the moonlight that shines through the open window. steve hesitates next to you, but you avoid his gaze. so he climbs through the window, mumbling a soft ‘goodnight.’
you shut the window and close the curtains while he still lingers on the other side and walk back over to your bed to cry for the second time that night.
-
three days go by. three days where you don’t go to the mall to hang out at scoops, three days of ignoring steve’s calls.
you mope around your house the entirety of that time. you lay in bed for an hour after waking up, then peel yourself up and move to the couch, laying under a blanket watching sixteen candles on repeat.
on the third day, your little sister had enough.
when she emerged from her room to see you crying to jake ryan picking samantha up from the wedding at the end of the movie and giving her a birthday cake.
“pull yourself together, it’s not even sad.” she says and she plops down on the couch and on top of your outstretched legs. you groan, pulling your legs up to your chest as you roll you eyes and pause the end credits.
“no, but it’s sweet. and romantic. and everything i’ll never have.”
you sister rolls her eyes and throws a throw pillow at your head.
“hey!”
“you and harrington are both ridiculous. just kiss and make up already.”
you shake your head, pushing yourself to sit up. “it’s not that simple.”
“okay, walk me through it.”
you pause, staring at your sister with a frown.
“i can’t keep being his friend if i'm in love with him. why can’t he just see me? he pines after nancy, he throws himself at all these girls, but here i am, right in front of him, madly in love.”
“okay, first of all, calm down. you’re not madly in love, you’re seventeen.” it was your turn to throw the pillow at your sister. she catches it and sets it in her lap before continuing.
“second, have you considered that steve is so used to you being attached at his hip that he’s never had to think of you not being there. it’s always been you and steve.”
you stare at her as the gears turn in your head. she had a point.
“what i think you should do, you need to make him jealous.”
“make steve jealous? how am i supposed to do that?” you frown, furrowing your brows.
“go out with another guy. he’ll realize everything he wants is right in front of him then he’ll be crawling back to you confessing his love.”
you look at your sister like she has three heads.
“you’re joking, right?” you snort. “steve isn’t gonna care who i’m going out with. he has no interest in my love life.”
“just try it. you might be surprised.” she replies with a shrug.
you narrow your eyes at her before shaking your head. “fine. we’ll see. guys don’t exactly flock to me.”
your sister rolls her eyes.
“you’re just oblivious. now, get up.” she says, standing from the couch, pushing your legs off in the process.
you groan, head flopping back against the arm of the couch.
“why?”
“because you’re taking me to the pool. besides, maybe you’ll meet a target there.” she says, already disappearing down the hall to her room.
-
you definitely did meet your target, completely unintentionally.
you considered yourself part of the minority in hawkins that did not care a single bit about billy hargrove. sure, he was attractive, but he seemed like a douche. and one that would never look twice in your direction.
at least he hadn’t in the almost year he’d lived in hawkins.
so when you were lounging on one of the chairs at hawkins pool, reading while your sister swam, and the sun that was warming you disappeared being a man-shaped shadow, you were shocked to look up and see billy smiling down at you.
he struck up an easy conversation, one that you initially were only half entertaining. but then he asked if you wanted to catch a movie with him.
you almost turned him down but remembered two things. one, no one turned billy hargrove down without him causing a scene. and two, steve harrington absolutely loathed billy.
so you give billy a sweet smile and agreed.
-
robin hadn’t meant to spill the beans to steve. but robin was robin and she often let things slip out in a moment of absolute word vomiting.
“i just don’t understand. i know she’s mad at me and is ignoring me, but i thought she would at least come in by now to hang out with you. that’s my opportunity to talk to her.” steve rants as he angrily wipes down the counter.
it was a slow day in scoops, leaving steve and robin to busy themselves with mindless tidying and steve using robin as his personal therapist.
robin shrugs, flipping through a magazine at one of the tables. “she’s probably preoccupied with billy.”
steve freeze, eyes snapping up to robin.
“what?”
robin freezes too, slowly looking up from her magazine. “uh, did i say billy? i meant, um, milly! milly, yeah. she’s uh… her new neighbor?”
steve stares at robin, obviously not convinced.
“billy as in billy hargrove?”
robin lets out a sigh, nodding her head. “she told me he asked her out a few days ago.”
a muscle tenses in steve’s jaw. “she’s going out with billy fucking hargrove? she hates the dude! he only wants to check her off the list of girls at hawkins high whose pants he’s gotten into.”
“if she hates him so much, why has she gone out with him three nights this week?” robin fires back, giving steve an unimpressed look.
“she’s a smart girl, she’s not gonna let him use her. besides, you have no right to be upset. you blew it with her.”
steve frowns and crosses his arms. “i’m not jealous. i just think he’s a douche. she’s too good for him.”
-
the second time steve hears about you and billy is a few days later.
max and el were at scoops taking advantage of steve’s offer for free ice cream (he always paid for it out of his own pocket after they left).
“hey, how come your girlfriend is going out with my asshole brother?” max asks, licking her melting ice cream cone.
steve looks up from where he’s refilling the napkins.
“what?”
“y/n. she’s been going out with billy. i thought you were like, in love with her or something.”
“she was never my girlfriend. and i wasn’t in love with her.” steve says defensively, then a little softer. “so, they’re still going out?”
“yeah, but you know billy. it can’t last much longer.” max replies with a shrug. “she can do better anyway.”
steve can only nod his head as he chews on his lip in thought.
-
a few hours later, steve is behind the counter, wiping it down, when he sees you and billy stroll up in front of scoops.
the two of you stop outside and billy says something that makes you laugh before he leans down to give you a sloppy kiss. he pulls back and gives you a wink before he walks off, leaving you standing there.
smiling to yourself, you turn and head in but your steps falter slightly when you see steve behind the counter instead of robin.
“hey. uh, is robin still here?” you ask awkwardly, but steve ignores the question.
“hargrove? are you serious?”
you frown at his tone, crossing your arms.
“do you have a problem, harrington?”
“yeah, i have a problem. you hate billy and now you’re going out with him?” steve scoffs, slamming his rag down.
you roll your eyes, laughing bitterly. “i don’t see how this is any of your business steve.”
steve laughs, throwing his arms up. “do you even hear yourself right now? i mean, billy fucking hargrove?”
“so what steve?” your voice raises slightly.
“it’s like i don’t even know you right now.” steve says, shaking his head.
“yeah, the feeling is mutual.” you scoff, walking out before you blow up.
steve watches you disappear, hands gripping the counter harshly. the window behind him slides open and the sound of robin clapping slowly fills the room.
“wow, great job romeo. you know, i’m really running out of space in my ‘you suck’ column. at this rate, i’m going to need the world’s biggest white board.”
“jesus, robin. would you give it a break?” steve snaps over his shoulder, but robin rolls her eyes and comes through the door to meet him behind the counter.
“no, i won’t. you’re jealous but instead of doing something about it, you’re just pushing her away more.” robin says, crossing her arms.
“i am not jealous!”
“you are and you have always been. anytime she’s ever even mentioned another member of the male species you get all weird.”
but steve is stubborn, so he rolls his eyes and turns back to his cleaning. “yeah, whatever.”
-
steve didn’t speak to robin the rest of his shift. he couldn’t. his mind had gone into overdrive as her words echoed loudly.
he recounted multiple occasions when you had mentioned going on a date or having been approached by a guy and it was like a switch was flipped on him. he would immediately bring up any girl he’d went out with recently, or worse, bring up nancy somehow.
it was like a defense mechanism. and slowly, as all these different instances came back to him, steve realized that maybe robin was right.
you’d been his best friend for as long as he could remember, you were the only constant in his life. one that he wanted there permanently. but he went and fucked it all up.
guilt, anger, and anxiety consumes steve as he drives to your house. he prays that you’re there and not out with billy because he felt like he was going to lose his mind.
steve parks his car on the curb and hops out, navigating the familiar path to your window. he climbs up the sloped ledge of the roof next to you window and hoists himself up.
the music playing softly from inside eased him slightly, but his stomach still twisted as he raised his hand and knocked in that same pattern as he always does.
a moment passes, then your shadow appears on the other side of the curtain. when you pull open the curtains, steve’s breath catches in his throat. you’re there, on the other side, looking as beautiful as ever, even with that unimpressed look on your face.
as soon as you slide the window open, steve begins rambling.
“look, i know i’m probably the last person you want to see right now and i get it. it’s valid. but i can’t do this. i-i can’t just sit here and let you date this jerk who doesn’t give a shit about you. i mean, he doesn’t even know you. he doesn’t know that you have to color coordinate all of your notes or you won’t be able to study. he doesn’t know that you hate mushrooms unless they’re on pizza. he doesn’t know that your favorite candy is gummy bears. but not the haribo ones, only the only from the candy counter at Melvald’s that you have to buy by the pound. he doesn’t know your favorite song is blackbird by the beatles. he doesn’t know you and you deserve someone who cares enough to know every small thing.”
steve is frantic and blabbering, running a hand through his hair every other sentence, while you just stare at him in awe as he continues.
“it just, it makes me so upset seeing you go out with him. he’s not someone that will make you happy. like it physically hurts me because he’s just so… wrong for you.”
“because you hate him?” you ask, slightly amused and confused.
“it’s not just about billy, it’s… it’s you. seeing you with someone else, knowing someone is holding your hand, looking into your eyes, kissing your lips. being apart from you knowing someone else is doing that fucking kills me. jesus, just looking at you right now is torture because you’re just so goddamn beautiful and i can’t let you do it. i can’t let you waste your time on billy hargrove.”
you’re silent for a moment, letting steve’s words settle over you.
“who is the one person that knows all of those things?”
steve snaps out of his trance, looking up at you confused. “huh?”
“who is it i deserve, stevie?” you ask again softly. steve’s mouth shuts as he looks up at you with glimmering eyes. he wets his lips, taking a breath.
“me. i’m the one you should be with. not billy, not anyone else. me. and maybe you think otherwise because i’ve been an ass but i just didn’t realize what i had until i lost it.”
you stare at him for a moment, taking in his words while studying his body language.
“you don’t still love nancy?”
steve immediately shakes his head. “no. no, i think for a while i told myself i did even though she hurt me. but i thought telling myself i still loved her would make it hurt less when you went out with other guys. it didn’t. but at the same time i was dumb and didn’t realize it was because the whole time it was you i was in love with.”
“was in love with?” you repeat, arms crossing across your chest.
“am. am in love with. i’m in love with you.”
“steve-“
“and it’s okay if you don’t feel the same. i know you’re going out with billy and as much as i hate him if he’s somehow making you happy, you should keep-“
you cut steve off by grabbing his face in your hands and pulling him into a kiss. steve freezes then immediately melts into the kiss, hands gripping the window pane to steady himself. when you pull back, steve stares at you with wide eyes and a dumbfound smile on his face.
“you kissed me.”
“i kissed you.”
“but what about billy?”
you roll your eyes, scoffing. “billy has been hooking up with bethany thompson every night after out dates because i wouldn’t sleep with him.”
you step away from the window, silently inviting steve to follow you in, which he does. he closes the window behind him and follows you over to your bed, sitting next to you.
“i’m so sorry. do you want me to beat him up? i’ll kill him-“
“steve, no, it’s fine. i’m not surprised and it’s my karma for stooping low enough to go out with him in the first place. besides, you don’t have a good track record for fights.”
steve rolls his eyes as he tucks a strand of hair behind your ear, his hand lingering to cup your cheek.
“you don’t need him anyways.”
“oh yeah?”
steve shakes his head, running his thumb over your cheekbone. “nah, you have me.”
“do i?” you ask, fighting the smile creeping into your face.
“if you’ll have me.” he says softly. you nod.
“of course i will.” steve grins and leans in, pressing his lips to yours.
when he pulls back, his arms wrap around your waist and he pulls you down with him onto your bed, making you giggle.
“can i confess something?” you whisper, scooting close enough for your nose to brush against steve’s.
“anything.” he replies with a smile.
“i only went out with billy to make you jealous.”
“you what?”
“my sister told me i should try making you jealous. i thought it was a stupid idea because i didn’t think you cared about my love life. but then billy conveniently approached me at the pool and asked me out. almost said no but i knew if there was any small chance of you getting jealous, it would be over him.”
steve’s head rolls back as he groans. “oh my god i can’t believe you.”
“what! it worked!” you chuckle, poking his side.
“jesus, next time don’t take dating advice from your thirteen year old sister.” steve says with a soft laugh.
“hey, at the end of the day, it worked and now we’re here.” you say, pecking his cheek.
a note: this was 80% finished and sitting in my drafts for months… decided today was a good day to finish it! super short and sweet for u. i hope you like <3
Steve’s so fun to play with. He’s quick to give in to any and all of your advances. Even when he’s wearing his stupid Scoops uniform, feeling like a goddamn moron while you’re stroking his dick in the break room.
There’s an unspoken, but obvious truth: Steve hasn’t had sex in months.
He’s so backed up that it’s borderline ridiculous. You’ve managed to make his tight shorts all sticky just from swiping your tongue across his bottom lip. He’s fully whipped for you, desperate for you to come around and make his life mean something more than waffle cones and butterscotch.
He’s never felt so low, and he’s never felt so good.
You give him anything he wants. It feels good to be so wanted and so helpful. And sometimes, you can’t stop yourself from planting ideas into his pretty little brain.
You’re jerking him off from the back. Pressing hot, open mouthed kisses along his freckled neck while he desperately tries to stop himself from fucking into your fist.
“Shouldn’t waste it,” you whisper, rolling your fist, making him moan. “Wanna paint my face?”
Upon the last syllable, he’s coming. Muscles flexing, his stomach trembling, ropes of cum landing on the break room table while his toes curl in his tennis shoes.
You pout over his shoulder while his chest heaves, his cock slowly softening in your palm, his big hands gripping onto your forearms.
“Should’ve made a mess on me instead.”
Another pathetic little shot of cum makes his legs weak. You smile and bite his earlobe, tasting the salt of his sweat.
“Does that sound like a good idea, Steve?”
He grits his teeth. It does, but he doesn’t know how to say it without sounding like a disrespectful asshole.
His cock speaks for him, though. Managing to stiffen again, his balls twitching, ready for more. Ready for the sight of his come on your face. Like he really fucking owns you. Like he’s on top and in control for the first time in a year.
“Pretty please?” you plead softly, the corners of your lips tilting up. “Ruin me, sailor.”
In a blur, you’re on your knees, and he’s towering over you. One of his hands wraps around his shaft, and his biceps flex as he begins stroking himself off. His shorts rest right below his aching balls, and he feels so goddamn dumb. But you’re still on your knees, and you’re looking up at him with puppy dog eyes.
He almost misses his chance. Anxious about taking too long on his break, or someone walking in. He’s working with the new hire today, not Robin, and he doesn’t know if that’s better or worse. He just can’t seem to come — until you softly whisper, “please?”
Steve’s stomach tenses, and then he comes with a long, low groan, eyelids hooded and his bottom lip bit pink by his teeth. You smile, eyes closed, each rope of come painting your beautiful face.
“Holy shit,” Steve mumbles, his voice gravelly in his chest, his legs shaking as he finishes. It’s hard to keep his eyes open, but he must — the sight of you is too good to lose.
Your hands find his hips and you hold them, trying to help him stay upright.
“Do I look pretty?” you ask.
Steve’s eyes roll halfway back. “Yeah, baby,” he drawls. “Gorgeous.”
thinking about being steve’s coworker who he thinks is all innocent because you’re so damn sweet and completely oblivious to his flirting.
but he truly gets the shock of his life as he walks through the mall before his shift one morning and sees you through the window of the damn lingerie store next to scoops. his throat feels impossibly tight, his palms beginning to sweat at the thought of you—sweet, seemingly innocent you—buying anything from that store.
people barge into him as he completely freezes—borderline ogling you as you pick up a baby blue set and consider it carefully, a gentle finger running over the lace. steve’s cock thickens in his shorts at the thought you wearing that and he has to pull himself together before he truly embarrasses himself.
of course, he thinks about it all day. of course his eyes flicker to your bag hanging up in the staff room and wonders if you had bought the set. of course, his stomach bubbles with jealousy at the thought of you wearing the racy number for anybody who wasn’t him.
so yeah—steve thought about that little lingerie store next to scoops an awful lot.
yes but also thinking about him getting tips from eddie on what position he had peach in to get her pregnant 😭 he wants a baby so bad
yes yes yes
he comes home from work exhausted and annoyed to find you cooking dinner for him and he just can’t wait till you’re done so he picks you up and sits you on the island taking what he knows always makes him feel better after a bad day. it’s when he’s close to cumming that you pull him in by the hair at the nape of his neck to whisper in his ear that you stopped taking your birth control three weeks ago.
that confession alone is enough for him to lose control, fucking into you like it’s all he was made for till he spills everything he has inside of you. pulling away he uses his fingers to stuff whatever is leaking out back in, vowing to himself to do it over and over again until it sticks.
Guys tell me why I'm so like hyper focused on Steve just being like a stubborn prick, who won't let himself cum until you have? And like he's physically shaking, panting, giving himself like a pep talk?
You feel the tremor start in his thighs first, it's this finest, insistent quiver that slowly works its way up through his hips and deep into the rigid line of his spine. He’s buried deep, so fucking deep inside you that you can feel every desperate hitch of his breath as he thrusts, but he’s so far gone trying to hold himself above you. His jaw's clenched. Sweat is sliding down his temple. His hands are fisted into the sheets on either side of your head, knuckles turning white, like he’s literally trying to hold himself in place through sheer force and fucking willpower.
"Steve," you gasp, arching up against him, and he shudders at the moment - like actually shakes - but doesn’t dare move because he know what will happen of he does.
"Not yet," he moans out, voice long gone, you can feel the strain in it, the ragged edge as it sits lower than normal. "Not - fuck - not until you"
He’s started panting now, these open-mouthed, messy gasps for air against your shoulder, and you watch his eyes squeeze shut, his brow is strunched in this almost pained state of concentration. His hip twitches, just once, an involuntary movement he didn't plan for and he bites down on his lower lip with a string of curses as his forehead drops against yours.
"Come on, Harrington," he mutters to himself, like a prayer and a scolding mixed into one. "Come on. Hold it together. Just - just hold it"
He’s vibrating now, all that strength is fraying apart at the seams, every muscle is clenched tight and trembling with the effort of trying to keep himself at the edge. His chest heaves again, a shaky breath escaping his lips as he rocks into you, just barely but enough that his whole body jerks like he’s been electrocuted. A strangled whine catching in the back of his throat.
"God, you feel..." He cuts himself off with another rough exhale, hips stuttering against yours again, losing the battle to sink into you further inch by inch. "I’m not - I’m not gonna" He swallows the lump in his throat and you feel his cock throb inside you to match. "Not before you. Not a fucking chance."
