my brother’s best friend’s a little bit older 🎀
steve harrington x henderson! reader
warnings: smut, reader is a year younger than steve but they’re all legal obviously i’m not a freak, sneaking around, forbidden romance vibe, steve the King harrington, not super timeline accurate i guess idk?? like the year is fine but not divulging into events of the show (lazy)
notes: the steve harrington bug bit me HELP!!!! also i know the henderson reader trope is overdone atp but idgaf anymore
you’d known steve harrington since middle school. he’d once been all awkward, gangly limbs, too loud laugh, polite, albeit shy, gestures. when you got to high school, though, all that seemed to fade away. long gone was the quiet, reserved boy you’d known. by junior year, he was all cocky grins and boisterous laughs, charming persona working overtime to conceal what you had once recognized as the very same desire to fit in that festered inside you all those years ago. he traded in his red bike for a flashy bmw, his star wars action figures for a walkman that he refused to take off, even during class. he was the king of the high school, and you weren’t sure he even knew you existed. that all changed, though, after the summer of ‘86, when your little brother and his friends, including steve himself, seemingly saved the world, and you were none the wiser. you still remembered the day the group of them had turned up at your house after the events unfolded, bruised and bloody, and dustin had broken down and told you the truth, the whole ugly, nasty expanse of it, of how eddie had died and there were creatures roaming freely, monstrous things, and how steve- good natured, gentle steve- had so bravely and fiercely protected them all. you’d started to look at him differently, then.
months after everything happened, steve became a fixture at your house. you’d come home after a day of classes just to find him in your living room, hours deep into a game of d&d or whatever dustin had dragged him into that day. some nights, you’d emerge from your bedroom just to see him sprawled out on the sofa, arm over his face as he slept, as comfortable as he would’ve been at home. you wouldn’t admit it to anyone (you could hardly admit it to yourself), but the sight warmed something in you, a tender little spot opening up to him. you’d woken up from an unintentional nap one afternoon, skipping down the stairs in shorts and an oversized band shirt, to find the house eerily quiet, your brother clearly gone or asleep. “is anybody home?” you called, greeted by silence, then quiet steps, then steve harrington’s big brown eyes staring at you from the doorframe. “hey, sorry, henderson walked down to mike’s to get an atari game. i didn’t know anyone was home.”
“it’s fine,” you propped yourself up in the counter, legs swinging as you sipped your ice water, watching him across the room, “don’t you have better things to do than sit around waiting on my little brother, harrington?” he looked, for the briefest second, something close to embarrassed, scratching the back of his neck and nearly cringing, “not really. i mean, henderson- dustin, sorry, he’s a great kid. i care a lot about all of them, but he’s my buddy. why? do you think that’s weird?” “no,” you shook your head, smiling faintly, “it’s sweet. he really looks up to you, for whatever reason. and i guess i owe you for saving his life, if that really is the truth of what happened.” “i mean, we all sort of saved each other,” he looked down, and you could see a flush on his neck and ears, “it wasn’t a big deal,” “oh, totally. saving the world is no big deal,” you resisted the urge to roll your eyes, “you’ve changed a lot since school. the steve i knew would never pass up an opportunity to gloat.” “you didn’t really know me, to be fair,” he met your eyes, “we never talked.” “you wouldn’t have talked to me,” you laughed it off, but the thought of it passively stung. “are you kidding?” he didn’t return your laugh, but made a small, incredulous sort of sound, “you wouldn’t have talked to me. you were too cool for all my high school shit.”
that surprised you, deep in your core. “i think you might have brain damage,” you teased, “it was the other way around, harrington. or should i call you the king, jog your memory?” “oh, come on,” he laughed, shaking his head, “nobody actually called me that.” “bullshit!” you grinned, pointing in accusation, “all your friends called you that. you’re such a liar.” “well i didn’t ask them to,” his cheeks were red, “it was stupid. anyway, i meant it. you were too cool for me, you were always so above all the cliques and popularity.” “maybe i just didn’t get invited to any cliques,” you joked, but it rang true in your mind, echoed the out of place feeling you couldn’t ever shake, “it’s fine, steve. honestly.” “you were so pretty,” that was not something you ever would’ve expected, “half the guys i knew wanted to ask you out, but they were scared because of your whole aloof vibe. you still are. pretty, i mean, obviously. duh.” he ran a hand over his face, shaking his head again, like he’d done something wrong. “well, i would’ve told them no anyway,” your voice was softer now, “so they were right not to.”
“i wanted to ask you to prom,” it seemed to tear out of him, “i’d seen you around, uh, i thought it was really cool how you did theater. i figured you’d say no, though, and then i ended up going with nancy, so.” “what?” you blinked, brows knit, “prom? why would you have asked me?” “i just told you,” he scrunched his nose, “you’re really pretty, and you were just, i don’t know. you seemed really cool, but that was ages ago. it’s honestly embarrassing, forget i said anything.” “it’s not embarrassing,” you slipped off the counter, took a step toward him, “its sweet, steve. thank you.” “thank you?” he repeated, looking at you in a strange way, a look you hadn’t seen on his face before, “that’s not- you should give yourself more credit, okay? you’re, i mean, you’re beautiful. you should know that.” “thank you,” you almost giggled, butterflies blooming in your stomach, “i don’t know what else to say. i had a crush on you in middle school, actually, which is super embarrassing, and then in high school, i don’t know. you didn’t feel attainable anymore.”
“attainable?” he took a step closer, now, looking down at you with impossibly dark eyes, “i was more than attainable, for you. you could’ve told me to jump and i would’ve asked how high. i didn’t think you’d ever want to be with somebody like me, thought you’d think i was stuck up or shallow or something.” you couldn’t believe what you were hearing. “don’t be ridiculous,” was all you could manage, smiling and shaking your head, “that’s crazy, steve.” “it’s not crazy,” he was so close you could smell his cologne, like citrus and pine, hazing your senses, “i was crazy about you, though. maybe i still am.” you looked up, met his eyes, and he pushed a lock of hair from your face, gentle and light “careful,” you murmured, swallowing, “i don’t think your best friend would be too crazy about you liking his sister.” “he’s not here, is he?”
his breath fanned over your lips, and your nerves stood on end, “can i kiss you?” you nodded, embarrassingly quick, not wanting to waste another minute without his lips on yours. he put one hand on your waist, the other settled warmly against your cheek, and pressed his lips to yours, stealing the breath from your lungs, the reason and logic from your mind. he tasted like orange soda and carmex, and you hummed against him, twining your arms around his neck and standing on your tiptoes to press closer to him. he kissed you firmly but gently, slow and steady, with a confidence that reminded you this was still the steve you knew in high school. “i’m home!” dustin’s voice echoed through the house, and you jerked away, face flush and chest hammering. “are you in here? i got 2 games and picked up some pop!” you crossed the room, downing your water, trying your hardest to look casual as your brother pushed open the door to the kitchen, “what’re you guys doing?” “oh, we both came down to get water,” steve lied easily, but you could practically see his heart beating, “what games did you get, kid?” and then they were gone, and you were left to choke on your feelings for him, this boy who had infiltrated your heart so easily.
the busyness of everyday life kept the two of you apart for the following two weeks. you only caught glimpses of him, his smiling face as he stumbled in the door with dustin just as you were on your way out, or seeing his headlights disappearing from the drive just as you descended the stairs. “henderson, where’s your sister?” constantly echoing in the basement, or “hey, dusty, when’s steve coming back by?” leaving your lips. “you guys are acting weird,” your brother finally said one evening, glancing pointedly at you, “why are you asking about steve? he asked about you, too.” “he did?” you tried to keep your composure, “oh, uhm, it’s private. personal, i mean.” “private? what the hell would you need to keep private between you and my best friend?” it was the wrong thing to say, you knew. in a panic, your mouth working faster than your brain, you said, “it’s for your birthday, dust. it’s a surprise, jeez. don’t ruin it.” the lie came easily. his birthday was only a month away, after all. he grinned at that, brightening, “you don’t have to do anything,” he said, but he was smiling anyway, and you felt a pang of guilt, “but thanks. you can hang out with him, then, i guess.” oh, you had intentions to do much more than hang out, but you’d never tell your kid brother that. “great,” you finally said, smiling, “maybe i’ll see him this week, then.”
the next day, you were laying out in the yard, a fresh tan leaving lines from your bikini on your freckled skin, sun lotion glistening on the planes of your chest as you leaned against the lawn chair, eyes closed, your headphones connected to your walkman, drowning out the summertime bustle. a shadow cooled your skin, and you blinked, puzzled, only to find steve standing over you, grinning like he’d won a prize. “hey there, henderson,” he said, just as you slipped off your headphones, the quiet music polluting the air, “puttin on a show for me? or did you get bored waiting around?” “steve,” you felt a warmth hotter than the july sun spread over you, “i didn’t know you were coming, dustin didn’t tell me.” “unplanned visit,” he tapped the vhs in his hand, “got an early return on this at work, wanted to surprise him with it.” you sat up fully, blinking and squinting your eyes as the sun rays haloed his head, “anything i’d wanna watch?” “not unless you like slashers,” he gestured to the cover, “but i’d love the company.” “you shouldn’t be buying him shit like that,” you scolded, standing, sipping the now watered down iced tea beside your chair, “i could watch it, though. i’m free tonight.”
“no hot dates?” he brushed a piece of hair from your face, leaning just a bit closer to you, “you really were waiting for me, weren’t you, sweetheart?” the huskiness of his voice sent a shiver down your spine, “in your dreams, harrington.” “oh, every night, baby,” he flashed you his million dollar smile, his hand slipping down to pop your bikini strap, “come on. dustin’s watching from the window.” “shit,” you exhaled, picking up your discarded walkman and glass, “if he asks, we were talking about the surprise.” “what surprise?” he asked, just as you stepped up to the front door. right as you opened your mouth to reply, dustin swung open the front door, grinning ear to ear. “no way you got it!” his eyes trained on the vhs in steve’s hands, “come on, hurry up!” the moment fizzled as you watched them start towards the basement, “i’m gonna go change and i’ll join you,” you called after them, “i’ll bring snacks!”
twenty minutes later, you skipped down the basement steps carrying a box of chips ahoy and a bag of doritos, your bikini traded in for a baggy star wars shirt and gym shorts. you paused in the doorway, watching as steve had what appeared to be a very serious conversation with your brother, his eyes all squinted in focus and his tone soft but informative. “if you like her, you gotta go for it, henderson,” steve said, clapping the boy on the back, “i’ll tell you, man, you do not want to live with that regret, alright? trust me, i’ve got my share of regretting to do, and i don’t want that for you, kid.” dustin had a crush? and steve was coaching him through it? “i’m not like you, steve,” dustin replied, “i can’t just swoon girls and charm their pants off.” “okay, first of all, i don’t charm their pants off,” steve laughed, rich and warm, “i’m as stupid as anybody when it comes to love, alright? when the right girl comes along, it’s like, boom, there goes my suave, there goes my sanity, yknow? you just gotta talk to her, kid. don’t regret it like i do.” you cleared your throat, then, feeling terrible for intruding, “i brought cookies and chips!” you hoped they didn’t know you’d overheard it all. “great!” steve lit up, standing to insert the vhs, flopping back down to pat the seat beside him, “let’s get started.”
you tried to focus on the movie, really, but your thoughts kept creeping back to steve’s words, the way he’d told dustin he had regrets. you wondered if it was about you, about prom, or maybe if there was some other girl he’d yearned for, lusted after. the thought sent an uncomfortable pang of jealousy through you, and you hoped to bury it as you tried once again to focus on the gritty screen, watching as some camper stumbled upon yet another body. “this is sick,” dustin sounded elated, “thanks again, steve.” “anytime, henderson,” his tone was so painfully endearing, affectionate as if dustin was his own brother. it warmed you all over, his tenderness for your family. it always had. an hour passed, and the credits rolled, some cheesy song playing as the names filled your screen. “alright, boys, i’m off to bed,” you stood, smoothing out your clothes, “don’t stay up too late, kay?” “whatever you say, mom,” dustin teased, rolling his eyes, “night.” “night, dusty,” you ruffled his hair before turning to steve, “night, harrington.” “goodnight,” his tongue swiped along his bottom lip as he watched you turn to go, “sweet dreams.” you thought of your interaction earlier, the way he’d say ‘every night’, a tingle creeping up your spine. you could feel his dark eyes on you as you bounded up the stairs to the main level of the house before rounding the corner, heading up to your room.
you couldn’t shake it, the feeling of his presence, his attention. you tossed and turned in bed, totally restless, unable to focus your racing mind on anything other than him. hours slipped past, and you could do nothing to silence the recurring, attention-demanding thoughts. you saw his face when you closed your eyes, heard his voice, velvet smooth, in your ears. you sighed in frustration as your eyes landed on your clock reading 1am, huffing and finally giving in to the persistent ache between your thighs, hoping it would finally help you rest. there was a fleeting sense of shame as you slid your hand beneath your cotton briefs, sucking in a breath as the pad of your finger met your slick clit, but it soon gave way to an all consuming pleasure, a shameless and ceaseless need. within minutes, your chest was heaving, your skin flushed and face undoubtedly red. “oh, god, steve,” fell from your bitten lips, hips bucking against your palm, “steve, please.” just then, like some sick, cruel joke, your bedroom door clicked open, steve harrington stepping through and pressing his back against it, “thank god, i swear i almost woke dustin up,” and then his eyes fell on you, took in the sight before him, and his cheeks darkened, “were you touching yourself, sweetheart?” “no!” you shot up, jerking your blanket back over your bare legs, horribly embarrassed but deeply frustrated, “jesus, steve! what are you doing in here? are you trying to get caught?”
“oh, you’re such a bad liar,” he had that signature grin as he padded closer, “i knew i wasn’t daydreamin’ hearing my name before i opened the door.” his hand found your thigh over the thin blanket, squeezing gently, teasingly, “you all worked up, hm? you’re so jumpy.” “i was asleep,” another lie, “what’re you doing here? it’s so late.” “wanted to see my girl,” his free hand brushed your hair from your face, “look at you, all hot and tense. you pent up, sweetheart?” “fuck off, harrington,” you rolled your eyes, but couldn’t help the way your breath hitched as his hand crept higher, teasing you through the covers. “i don’t think you want me to fuck off,” he leaned in, breath ghosting over your jaw, your ear, “let me finish what you started, baby. then i’ll go away.” with that, his hand crept beneath the blanket, finding your slick underwear, fingers tracing the wet patch on the cotton. “oh, god,” you exhaled shakily, eyes closed, head tipped back, “we shouldn’t- god, steve.” “is this okay?” he pressed a kiss to your jawline, his stubble tickling your skin, “do you want me to stop?” “no, please don’t,” you shook your head, half whining, desperately wanting more.
“i got you,” he murmured, pressing his lips to yours just as he sank two fingers into your dripping entrance, muffling the high, surprised moan that threatened to spill out. he kissed you just as he had in the kitchen weeks prior, firm but gentle, letting you have some control but taking the lead. his fingers worked your core expertly, curling inside you, his thumb pressed against your aching clit. you felt him smirk against your mouth when a particularly loud noise poured out of you, just as you clenched around his digits, thighs squeezing around his wrist. “you close, sweetheart?” he pulled back just enough to whisper, voice raspy, “can feel you squeezin my fingers.” “so close,” you nodded, dizzy with pleasure, chasing his lips to kiss him again. he was hungrier then, tongue sliding against yours, biting at your bottom lip with a soft fervor. you clutched his bicep as you came undone, trying your hardest to keep quiet, thighs trembling and muscles quaking from the intensity of your orgasm. “there you go,” he hummed, satisfied as he pulled his fingers out carefully. you watched through lidded eyes as he brought them to his lips, your own parting in surprise when he brought them into his mouth, licking your taste off of the skin. “oh my god,” he nearly groaned, “you taste so good, baby. knew you would.”
your chest heaved with panting breaths as he pressed messy kisses to the inside of your wrist, up your arm. “been havin wet dreams about you like a fucking virgin ever since that night in the kitchen,” he murmured, voice raspy, “you gonna put me out of my misery and let me fuck you, baby?” you were hopeless to resist, nodding and looping your arms around his neck, pulling him down into a hot and fast kiss, your legs twining around his carelessly. he fumbled between your bodies, struggling but eventually pushing down his sweats and boxers, and you pulled away from his hungry mouth just long enough to gaze at his length, the messy brown curls crowning his flushed cock. “fuck,” you whispered, “you’re huge.” “you sure know how to flatter me, sweetheart,” you could hear the grin in his tone, but soon lost the urge to call him cocky when he brushed his tip against your sticky clit, your breath hitching. “fuck me,” he groaned, his free hand curling in the hair at the back of your head, grounding himself, “you ready?” “yes,” your voice was breathy and light, “yes, please.” he slowly, carefully pushed into you, your walls stretching to accommodate his size as he slid all the way in, his head falling to your chest to muffle a moan. “oh, god,” you mewled, squeezing around him, “you’re so big, steve, s’so good.” “look at that, baby,” he managed to find his voice after a moment of stillness, leaning up to meet your eyes, his own swallowed up by pupil, “she’s sucking me in, greedy girl. even better than my dreams.”
the moment he was sure you’d adjusted to him, he was thrusting into you, one hand gently covering your mouth, muffling the endless stream of moans and pleas, your brain too hazy to care about anyone hearing. “fuckin perfect,” he grunted, all but slamming into you, your wetness sticking to the base of him with each thrust, “knew you’d feel like this, angel. should’ve fucked you sooner.” your back arched as his thrusts grew faster, his own high approaching, his neck and cheeks flushed red as he lost himself in pleasure. “come on, sweet girl, let me feel you fall apart on my cock,” his head dipped down to nip at your neck, slipping his fingers into your mouth, less effective at quieting your sounds but only adding to your pleasure, “give it to me, baby.” “stevie,” you gasped, vision white as you finally came undone on his length, soaking him even further, your hips writhing with the intensity of it. “there it is,” he groaned, head tipping back as he pounded into you, his hands giving up on muffling your voice only to make a home on your hips, rocking you back onto him, “can i- fuck, i’m close, can i fill you up, baby? please?” “yes,” you weren’t even sure how you managed it, “on the pill.” “god, yes,” he let out a deep, raspy moan as he came, barely able to help himself, letting himself get lost in the feeling of coming inside of you. he pulled out after a moment, chest still heaving, watching as your hole leaked, evidence of the moment spilling out onto your baby pink sheets. he collapsed beside you, bringing your head to his chest, your nose scrunching as little curls of hair tickled your cheeks.
“that was incredible,” he said after a moment, brushing his fingers lazily through your disheveled hair, “if i knew what i was missing i would’ve made a move years ago.” “we already established you’re an idiot, harrington,” you mumbled, grinning and lovedrunk. “hey!” he swatted at you teasingly, “we agreed that we were both idiots, henderson.” “maybe,” you buried your face deeper into him, “but you could’ve made a move. i would’ve said yes.” “yeah, well,” he murmured, pressing a kiss to the top of your head, “we have plenty of time to make up for it.” you fell asleep on his chest, your leg thrown over his, the blanket tossed haphazardly over your bodies. hours later, morning light streamed through your curtains, unsettling your comfort. “stevie,” you whispered, shifting against him, “its morning, you should go back to the basement before dustin wakes up.” he groaned in protest, shaking his head and pulling you flush against him, “too early.” “you have to go,” you giggled, peppering his face in kisses, “we can’t get caught this soon.” “not gonna get caught. he’ll sleep for hours,” he argued, his fingers trailing your spine, leaving goosebumps in their wake, “relax, baby.” “fine,” you hummed, tucking your face back into his arm, “five more minutes.” five minutes turned into another hour, and before you could wake him up again, your bedroom door was slinging open. “hey, have you seen- oh, what the fuck?” your brothers voice brought you out of your sleep immediately, and you shot up, face hot and eyes wide, just in time to watch the door slam behind him. “oh, shit,” steve shot up, getting dressed in a flurry of movement, “fuck. sorry, baby, i didn’t think he’d be up, god.” “oh my god,” your face flushed painfully, “this is awful, steve.” “i’ll take care of it,” he assured you, pressing a chaste kiss to your cheek as the stumbled towards the door, “gimme an hour. nobody can resist my puppy dog eyes.” and then he was gone, and even through your embarrassment, you were warm all over, perfectly content, his scent still on your pillow.
