Steve harrington x fem!reader, 1.8k words, Steve is an adorable loser for his gf <3
summary: Everyone loves Steve's girlfriend, but he just wants a little bit of your attention for himself. Is that so bad?
It starts, as many things do, with Dustin Henderson.
You’re curled on the corner of Steve’s couch, your legs tucked under his thigh while he flicks through TV channels. The doorbell rings, and before Steve can even mutter “I’m not home,” the door swings open.
“Hey, is she— oh, there you are!” Dustin beams, dropping his backpack with a thud. "Hi!"
"Hi," you say back, grinning up at him, happy to see him.
He mirrors your smile. “Okay, so I need a second opinion on the naming convention for my new campaign NPC. ‘Zargoth the Destroyer’ or ‘Lord Malador of the Shadowed Vale’?"
"Hmmm, I like Zargoth better. It's more intimidating. Plus, short and sweet, you know what I mean?"
Steve stares, remote dangling from his fingers. “Henderson. My house. A ‘hello’ would be nice. An appointment would be better.”
Dustin waves a dismissive hand. “Hi, Steve. This is important.” He plops down on the floor in front of you, effectively blocking Steve from your line of sight.
It doesn’t stop there.
Two days later, you’re helping Steve sort a mountain of mismatched socks that have just come out of the laundry. Weirdly, it's somewhat of a bonding experience, doing laundry together.
Robin lets herself in, her eyes landing on you like a spotlight.
"Oh, thank God you're here," she breathes.
"Where else would I be?" you joke.
She plops down on the bed, messing up Steve's organised sock piles. He sighs.
“My date with Vickie. At Enzo’s. It’s tomorrow. It’s a real, sit-down, checkered-tablecloth kinda date."
You put down the polka dot socks you were holding to beam at her. "That's amazing, Robin! I know how much you were looking forward to that."
"It is amazing! But it's also a crisis!" She grabs your shoulders, her eyes wide. “What do I wear? Do I go cute? Do I go cool? Do I try for both and risk looking like I’m trying too hard? And my hair— can you braid it?"
Steve holds up two socks that are clearly not a match—one black, one navy. "Hello? We're doing laundry. We were in the zone."
Robin spares him a haphazard glance. "This is important, Dingus." She turns back to you. "Please, I need you. I'm vibrating."
You can't help but laugh. "Okay, okay. I like your outfit now. It's chic, but doesn't look like you're trying too hard. And I can totally braid your hair, but I think it might look better down? Light makeup I can help you with, maybe a little eyeliner on your waterline. I have one I think'd suit you, it's in the bathroom."
Robin tugs on your hand, pulling you up to stand. "You're a genius."
Steve watches, helpless, as you're swept upstairs in a whirlwind of pre-date panic, then back down at his socks. "They're both dark," he mumbles to himself.
The true test of his patience comes during a Friday night movie marathon in the Wheeler’s basement. You’re on the floor, leaned back comfortably between Steve’s knees, his fingers in your hair, scratching absently at your scalp. It’s perfect. It’s your spot.
The movie plays, and Steve is content, his world pleasantly narrowed to the familiar weight of you against him and the scent of your shampoo.
Then, Lucas slides over from his spot next to Mike. He looks desperate. "Hey," he whispers, his voice strained. "I need help. It's an emergency."
You tilt your head back to look up at Steve with an apologetic smile before turning your full attention to Lucas. "What's wrong?"
"I pointed out a zit on Max's face," he confesses in a horrified rush. "I wasn't trying to be mean! I just noticed it! I said, 'Is that a new zit?' and she... she hasn't spoken to me in two hours. She's just been giving me this death glare. What do I do? Do I apologise? Do I ignore it? Do I buy her nail polish? Is nail polish even an apology gift?"
You bite the inside of your cheek to keep from laughing, but your eyes are sympathetic. "Oh, Lucas. Okay. First, do not buy her nail polish. That implies you're paying way too much attention to her appearance, which is the problem. Buy her new skateboard bearings, she mentioned she needed some. And definitely apologize. Say, 'I'm sorry, that was a stupid thing to say.' Keep it simple."
Lucas nods frantically, absorbing the instructions like they're a military briefing. "Got it. Thanks." He scuttles back to his spot, already planning his approach.
Steve’s hand has stilled in your hair. You feel him take a slow, deep breath behind you.
Before you can settle back against him, you catch Max’s eye from across the room. She gestures subtly with her head towards Lucas and rolls her eyes, but you see the hurt in them.
You give her a small smile in acknowledgement. Mouth, 'he's sorry. He'll make it up to you.'
Then, Dustin’s head appears, blocking the TV. “Okay, one more question about the D&D character convention. If a—”
But Steve has had enough.
He leans down, his lips brushing the shell of your ear. His voice is a low, soft murmur, tinged with a vulnerability that makes your heart clutch. “Hey, angel... can we get out of here?”
You twist to look up at him. In the flickering blue light of the TV, his expression isn’t annoyed. It’s wistful. A little tired.
“Yeah,” you whisper back instantly, without hesitation. “Of course.”
You gently extract yourself from his hold and stand up, reaching for your jacket. "We're gonna head out," you announce.
A chorus of groans erupts.
“What? Now?” Dustin whines.
"Yeah, I had a question to ask you!" Mike exclaims. "It's, like, life or death. I think the Chief's gonna kill me if I go see El again—"
“You can’t leave, I haven’t executed the apology protocol yet!” Lucas whisper-yells, panicked.
Steve opens his mouth, a familiar, defensive retort about how you’re not a UN negotiator clearly forming. But you step in before he can.
You smile, soft but firm, and slip your hand into Steve’s. “You guys’ll be fine,” you say, your tone gentle but leaving no room for debate. You turn your smile up to Steve, eyes warm. You give his hand a little squeeze. “I want some alone time with my boyfriend.”
The groans taper into scattered laughs. Max sends you a not very discreet thumbs up.
Steve looks down at you, warmth pooling in his chest. He gives you this look of such pure, dazed adoration it makes your heart skip. He doesn’t say a word. He just lifts your joined hands and presses a firm, grateful kiss to your knuckles, his eyes never leaving yours.
“You heard the lady,” he says to the room, his voice light and full of happy energy. “We’re off-duty. Emergencies will have to wait.”
He leads you up the basement stairs, the sounds of the movie and the kids’ renewed bickering fading behind you.
The second the Wheeler’s front door clicks shut, sealing you both in the cool, quiet dark of the porch, Steve stops. He turns, and in the soft glow of the porch light, his expression is completely unguarded—all soft eyes and a tender, wobbly smile.
“C’mere, sweetheart,” he murmurs, his voice thick with emotion. He wraps his arms around you and sways gently on the spot, his cheek resting against your hair.
“My sweet, perfect girl,” he coos, the words a warm rumble against your temple. "You were so patient with them, solving everyone’s problems.”
He pulls back just far enough to cradle your face in his hands. His thumbs stroke over your cheekbones with a reverence that makes you feel dizzy.
He’s beaming at you, his eyes shining with so much affection it’s almost overwhelming. He leans in and peppers a flurry of soft, quick kisses all over your face—your forehead, your nose, each eyelid, your cheeks—murmuring between each one.
"My smart girl... giving everyone life advice... always being so kind and helpful and perfect..."
He finally lands on your lips, kissing you slow and deep, a kiss that tastes like gratitude and awe. When he breaks away, he’s breathless, his forehead resting against yours.
“I’m gonna melt into a puddle right here on Mrs. Wheeler’s porch,” he whispers, his voice hoarse with feeling. "The way you handle them all, and then you just… you turn those big, beautiful eyes on me and say that? In front of everyone?” He lets out a shaky laugh, his nose nuzzling against yours. “I’m done for. Completely done for.”
He hugs you again, squeezing you tight and lifting you just an inch off the ground. “C’mon, my love,” he says, "let's go to my place. I just want to look at you for a while. Is that okay? I just wanna hold my girl and look at her.”
You laugh, the sound full of softness and affection for your sweet, adorable boyfriend. "It's more than okay. Take me home, please, baby. I'm all yours."
A soft, almost wounded sound escapes him and he hugs you impossibly tighter for a second, his face buried in your neck. "Oh, my heart. You're gonna kill me. You're so perfect."
Steve finally lets you go, but only to take your hand, lacing your fingers together in a grip that feels reverent. He leads you to the car, opening the passenger door for you with a soft, "In you go, gorgeous."
The drive to his house is quiet, but the silence is thick with a new, syrupy sweetness. He keeps your hand in his lap, his thumb stroking incessantly over your knuckles when he's not changing gears.
"Just look at you," he murmurs at one red light, his free hand reaching over to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear. "You're so beautiful. I can't believe you're mine."
"I am," you remind him softly, leaning into his touch.
"I know," he breathes, like it's the greatest mystery and miracle of his life at the same time, somehow. "I know, baby. And I'm never letting go."
Once home, he doesn't even turn on the main lights. He guides you to the living room couch by the faint glow from the kitchen. He sits down and pulls you into his lap, arranging you so you're sideways, your legs draped over his, your head tucked perfectly under his chin. He wraps both arms around you, letting out a long, contented sigh.
"Here we go," he whispers, his lips against your hair. "Right where I wanted you all night. Just my girl and me."
You hum, a soft, contented sound as you melt into his warmth, all the busy energy of the night finally draining away.
Steve presses a kiss to the crown of your head. "You must be so tired, sweet thing," he murmurs, his voice a low, soothing rumble in his chest. "Taking care of everyone all the time." His hand rubs slow, comforting circles on your back. "My sweet, exhausted angel."
He leans down, his lips brushing your ear. "But you know what?"
"Hmm?"
He tightens his arms around you. "It's okay," he murmurs. "You can help whoever you want, baby. 'Cos when you're done taking care of everyone else..." He presses a fond kiss into your hair. "I'll be right here taking care of you."
summary: Dustin's new neighbor is really helpful. And once Steve sees you in a bathing suit he starts to wonder if you could be helpful in other ways.
cw: fem!reader, mentions of female anatomy, reader wears a bikini, steves a boob guy (canon), barely there perv!steve (if you squint/wanna call it that), strangers to enemies(?) to lovers, semi-public sex, smut!!, boob sucking, robin almost catching them, lmk if i missed anything!
part 2!!
Being Dustin's neighbor had its pros and cons.
For example a pro would be his mom making too much food for dinner. Like for some reason her meals were made for a whole family despite it just being her and Dustin. Still, she generously gives you any extra food her and her growing boy hadn't gone through. And who were you to let good food go bad?
A con would be her talking up a storm while you try to get mail. Or when she knocks on your door with the freshest baked cookies asking if you could babysit her son for the night while she works. Dsutin doesn't really need a babysitter, so smart he could easily spend a night alone. But still he’s a kid and the warm cookies don't hurt.
So you deal with the more than necessary neighborly duties. And in all honesty, if she didn't knock on your door your night would be spent sitting in front of your tv screen. Which if you put it side by side to your night taking care of Dustin there's not much of a difference. Sure the things you’ll watch on the tv might be different, but at least you have someone to talk to. Living all alone comes with things like that. Nights spent alone, days where you don't talk to anyone at all, and befriending your neighbor who's like 14.
Days go on all the same. Last week you went to his to babysit and then the day after to cool down since your heater decided to break mid June. It was a whole thing but it was that moment you decided you were thankful that things turned out the way they did. To have a welcoming space you feel safe in when something in your own home goes wrong isn't something to take for granted.
As far as this week you have nothing to do, but you won't say it outloud, too afraid of jinxing it. And plus it’s important to take things day by day. Today is a tanning day, despite the weather being horrifically warm you've found a loop hole.
The grass in your front porch has two sprinklers, allowing water to circulate and give the grass some well needed hydration as the sun soaks it all up. The water goes off every thirty minutes, giving you– if you time it right– thirty minutes to get too hot, then have some water splash on you, and with a few rounds of each you will have perfected a day out tanning without dying of heat stroke. Yes it does mean tanning out where people can see you but the street you live on is filled with people just like Dustin's mom, they're either too busy working, or too old to spy on you through the window.
It’s not like you’re doing anything wrong, just laying in the grass letting the sun soak through your skin. Hopefully getting bronze instead of burnt but you try to be consistent with sunscreen.
By the end of the week you've been out a couple times tanning. Last time Dustin's friends saw you and said hi which was nice. What you didn't see was Max hitting Lucas’ arm when he was staring for a second too long.
“You do realize your hot neighbor is half naked out here right?” Lucas poorly whispers, like it's a new fact. And to him it is, not that he should be saying it in front of Max.
“Y’know I somehow missed that, thanks for letting me know.” Dustin says, shutting the door behind his friend who's being forced inside by his girlfriend. “Of course I know it! And she’s not hot, she's actually really weird and annoying.” He finishes his small rant with crossed arms, like he can't believe his friend even said that about you. His lonely neighbor who has nothing better to do than make costumes for their D&D game nights.
It wasn't till a few days later when Steve came around. One of Dustin's friends you somehow consistently missed. Either you were working when he was there or busy doing chores with music blasting when his red car honked to get Dustin's attention. Your paths just haven't crossed yet. But that didn't mean Steve hadn't heard of you.
At first it was Dustin no longer needing to be taken to the arcade, or being picked up for that matter. Next it was not needing to be babysat, which Steve didn't mind that payless job being taken off his hands. But lastly– the one that broke the camels back– was the little kid no longer going to big brave Steve for help or advice. The kid who he had fought monsters next to, the one who begged him for girl help, suddenly didn't need him anymore.
It hurt Steve more than he’d like to admit. Chalking it up to just liking the attention, the feeling of being needed in that big brother way. Definitely not missing his friend, never that. Although he didn't even need to beg for info as to why Dustin had changed up on him, his loud mouth friends told him with ease. Muttering things about his new neighbor who was too hot to hang out with some dork like Dustin. It had Steve looking at them in the car mirror as he drove Mike, Lucas, Will in the back seat and lucky Max in the passenger seat. Taking the kids to their respective houses.
“Whos this girl you guys keep talking about?” He tries to say it in a ‘I couldn't care less’ type of tone but the kids know him too well for his own good. Normally his ears are turned off to any conversation the kids have so the fact that he’s paying attention shows he cares.
“God, keep it in your pants Harrington.” Mike says with an eye roll.
“Dustins new neighbor.” Max says over Mike's sentence.
Steve doesn't miss either of their words. Somehow he has become extremely skilled at understanding the kids as they talk over each other. Maybe it’s his brain trying to make peace with the fact that he has to listen to high pitched kids scream all the time. Still he gives Mike a squinted eye look in the rear view mirror.
He doesn't ask more questions than that about you. Deciding he’ll be at Dustin's house soon enough he can see it with his own two eyes. Better that than letting the kids make their own judgments based off of his one simple question.
And he was right.
Dustin ended up needing him to help get ready for a school dance. Apparently a job only good ol’ Steve Harrington could handle. It’s not like you knew how to tame a lion's mane or hype up a nervous kid, trying to give all the right advice. For Steve however, it’s what he did on the daily.
But what he didn't know– and what his friend failed to tell him– was it was your prime tanning time. With a bikini that would give you a barely there tan line you laid out on your grass. A small radio sat near your front door. Loud enough that you could hear it behind you but not too loud that people would complain. A hat covered your eyes and nose, hiding the sun that was shining down directly on you. Your body glistened easily in the light, already a little bit darker from this new routine.
When he pulled up into the driveway he almost hit the curb, too busy looking at how your legs looked. Toned in a way only oil and the sun could produce. And as you let them fall back onto the grass he saw the way the straps to your top looked like they could snap in two, and the bottoms allowed him to see just enough to get his brain working.
It was sick is what it was. Something Steve hoped no one saw, specifically the kids. A little moment he let himself divulge in despite knowing he shouldn't. When he knocks on Henderson's door he’s quick to act like it never even happened.
Luckily for Steve he was able to have a nice conversation with the kid. Asking about what he’s been up to, why the older friend was no longer needed, and how helpful his new neighbor has been. It took a second for Steve not to let himself get smothered in jealousy, but he was here for a reason right? There was still a use for him in Dustin's life. He wasn't completely exiled just yet, and because of that Steve will be able to sleep at night.
By the time he was done helping Dustin, ready to drive him to the dance you were gone. Inside, getting cool, he thinks to himself. Maybe showering and washing off the creams you put on to get so shiny and smooth looking. He feels his heart starting to beat wildly in his chest from just thinking about it. You all soapy in the shower, maybe humming a song you heard while outside, afterwards checking yourself out in the mirror to see if the tan lines you’d been working on were starting to come through. And if he bothered to walk up to you and ask, he would've found out you fell asleep. The hat you wore doing wonders on blocking any light, letting you sleep through the reapplication of the sunscreen, allowing the sun to get you in a way that would later lead to a small burn atop your shoulders and chest.
It was defeating how easily you took over his mind. What would've been a whole car ride of Steve boosting his friend's confidence turned into Dustin snapping his fingers just to get his attention. It’s not like you’d talked to him, or even looked at him for that matter. There was absolutely no reason for Steve to be acting or feeling this way about you. Some girl who he didn't even have a name for.
Soon enough June became July and Steve was back at Dustin's for a small get together. This time all the kids were there and he offered to come and supervise before anyone even got a chance to ask you about it.
It was almost humorous how Steve almost ran over that same curb after he spotted you back outside. The bikini you had on this time had little bows on the side of your bottoms, tied to perfection. Instead of a hat covering your face you wore sunglasses. The frame shaped your face well, the lenses were so dark he couldn't even tell what you looked like behind them.
As he turned into the drive way he quickly dogged your view. You were interested in this red car that kept popping up recently, wanting to see the person getting out of it. Thank goodness for your dark lenses because with them you look like you're just resting, laying with your arms holding your upper body up. In reality your eyes were stuck on the guy getting out of the expensive car with gorgeous hair.
Steve makes a point to walk to the door with a confident ease. Not wanting to run even though he's 10 minutes late just in case your eyes, that he is convinced he feels on him, watch as he goes into the house. But you should certainly look away when Dustin opens the door and immediately starts yelling at him. Letting him know the importance of being on time ‘at his grown age’ as the kids say.
The small get together is fun for about two hours, if that. Everyone is relatively nice to each other, he doesn't have to step in too much when one of them gets out of line. Makes him wonder if you yell at them the same way he does. You probably don't, that's why you get invited more than he does. But it doesn't take long for Mike to blame Will for cheating even though Will would never cheat, and Lucas to get too busy kissing on Max that he's practically forfeiting the game.
With all the yelling and fingers being pointed Steve allows himself a few minutes of quiet time outside. Completely forgetting you're out there until he hears your music. It would be wrong of him to step away from his duties of babysitting to talk to a girl. But you’re only a few steps away and the kids have handled worse than anything from this dimension can bring. He lets himself make his way to you, only then thinking of what he’s even going to say to you. His heart beats so loudly he can hear it in his ears, a consistent noise telling him he's pathetic for getting this worked up over someone he doesn't even know.
You hear someone near you before you see them, head too busy trying to focus on the music and how annoying it is that the sun breaks through your glasses.
Still his words scare the ever living shit out of you.
“Hey.” Steve says with a wave you don't even catch.
Your yelp is loud, a sound that the kids might've even heard. The hands pressed to your quickly rising chest doesn't make him feel any better.
“Holy shit I didn't know you were coming over to me.” You mutter, breath still uneven as you pull your sunglasses to rest on your head. One of your eyes is on him and the other is shut tightly, trying to balance out the new amount of sun coming to your vision.
“M’sorry I scared you, just um, wanted to check on you.”
“You wanted to check on me?” Your eyes are squinted from the sun being in your face but if it wasn't your features would show how much you don't believe him.
“Yeah, y’know you were out here when I drove up and then I stepped out and you're still here.” He’s nice enough to move around, trying to get that one spot that will block the sun from you completely. Could be written off as being a gentleman or wanting a good view of your pretty face.
“And you’re worried I’m what? Melting?” Your head cocks with the last word like you know you’re making fun of him to his face but he doesn't back down.
A quick laugh comes out from him, trying to show you he gets your humor. “Maybe melting, maybe getting a heat stroke, both have similar outcomes.” His back is starting to get really hot from trying to block the sun.
“I’m fine, you should go back to Dustins.” You respond, putting the shades back down to rest on the bridge of your nose.
“Hey wait, you’re the one who's been taking over my babysitting duties aren't you?” It’s a cheap shot at trying to continue the conversation despite you trying to end it. It’s easy to get the hint when he solidifies his stance with crossed arms.
“His mom is really nice so I do favors for her sometimes. No need to get all defensive, Dustin loves hanging with his 30 year old friend.”
“So I’m actually no where near 30-”
“Arent you supposed to be watching him anyways? Not over here literally stealing the sun away from me.” Now that you aren't looking at him, hands behind your head as a makeshift pillow to resume your tanning, him blocking the sun isn't as helpful as it was 30 seconds ago.
It’s almost as if you have a special power for pushing him away. Directly after you said it the kids are at the front door screaming for Steve to come back even though a simple yell from one of them across the street would do the trick. With a look to the kids and a look back to you he can see the smirk that rests on your face. Finding it funny how nothing is working out for him.
“Later, Steve.” You loosely wave.
And Steve thinks that's it. It's official. You’re evil. Because if you would've cut him loose maybe he could've gotten over it. Lived out the rest of the day without the sound of your voice saying his name stuck in his head. Could've wrangled all the kids together, showing them who's the adult– despite knowing they don't take him seriously – saying how they can't just yell after him like that. But instead he has you saying his name in the most flirtatious manner bouncing around the walls of his brain. Like a song stuck in his head he can't stop replaying over and over.
His body turns, ready to give in to whatever the kids are yelling at him for but his brain runs a million miles per minute, not letting the things he’s hearing fully move him. It feels like a whole minute of thinking but in reality only seconds pass before you hear his feet shuffle a few steps closer to you then his voice.
“I’m having a small fourth of July get together tomorrow if you want to come. It’s a pool party so you can bring one of these if you want.” He points to your bikini.
You have to give it to him. Being practically turned down twice and still going for it is brave. Maybe that's why you give in a little.
Without moving, without looking at him, or pushing the frames away, you decide to bite. “What time?”
“Party starts at 4, you could even be helpful and bring Dustin with you.” The tone he’s giving you matches the one you gave him earlier perfectly. Sarcastic and a little mean with a slight tease.
“Hm, maybe.” Because you’re not gonna let him think you're that easy. That you’ll listen to whatever he says, especially with that tone.
With that he finally makes his way back to the kids, satisfied with the work he’s done. Once he steps into Dustin's house the kids are all over him asking brand new questions they didn't have a moment ago, before he deliberately ignored them just to talk to you more.
“So what was that all about? Were you trying to make her stop coming over?” Dustin shouts, knowing Steve had to have messed something up.
“The only man to ever think with anything but his heart.” Mike tsks with a simple shake of his head and a hand to his own heart. As if he's the old and wise one.
“We know what he was thinking with.” Lucas quips back, giving Mike a big grin. Fist bump ready at his own joke that he shouldn't understand in the first place.
“His brain?” El questions.
“Exactly El.” Will pitifully smiles at her with a hand on her shoulder. Saddened by the fact that these are the people she has to deal with.
Steve puts a finger up in the air ready to point at them with the other hand on his hip, a mom pose for sure. “Listen losers, she’s coming over tomorrow for the party. If you say, actually no, if you even mutter a single thing to make me look bad, your ass is grass. You’re dead, you got me?” His thick brows raise and his big eyes get bigger, trying to really seal the deal that he’s serious about this.
The kids however, they just roll their eyes and grumble yes’s and nod along. Like they would ever make a whole plan over him and some girl coming over. Or better yet, actually listen to him. It’s almost comical how quickly they get over what Steve was doing with the neighbor and focus back on the real reason he was called after in the first place. With your voice stuck in his head and the kids voices coming through his ears he feels ready to go back outside for a well needed break all over again.
The party comes quickly. Steve starts his day making sure the house is spotless. Even though it always is, thanks to the absence of his parents, the house barely looks lived in but he still cleans what he can anyways. By afternoon he calls it good enough and starts setting up for the party, lazily putting streamers and balloons in corners or where there's empty space. His calling isn't for decorative design that's for sure but the vibes are all there nonetheless. About 20 minutes before the party is set to start Robin comes allowing Steve to get himself ready while she sets the food up. They work as a pretty good team to get everything situated, Robin calls off things that should be out and Steve checks them off by pointing to where they are.
Half of the group comes first, filling in the home with ease due to how often they come by. Mike, El, Will, Nancy, and Jonathan come together since they all live closer to each other. Plus wherever Nance goes Jonathan follows. Minutes later Lucas follows hand in hand with Max, not even knocking on the door simply letting themselves in.
4;15pm comes too quickly and you and Dustin still weren't there. The fact that Dustin wasn't present gave Steve a sick amount of hope that you were coming. Fashionably late maybe but still you’d show up. But there was also a part of him that knew it could just be his mom taking her sweet time bringing him over. He tries to busy himself with getting everyone drinks, opening up the back door so the kids could start getting in the pool.
Right before he goes out the door himself– trying to district himself by sitting at the edge of the pool– he hears Dustin's voice, loud and clear in an upset tone.
“Have you ever heard of hurrying up? Time management? Being somewhere when you need to be there?”
“We get it, you don't go to any parties. So here's a tip, no one ever arrives exactly when it starts.” You bend down slightly bumping your shoulder with his as you roll your eyes.
The kid makes his way through Steve's house with ease and you try to stay close enough behind, not familiar with the layout. It’s like he forgets you’re even there because he stops right where the hallway meets the kitchen, making you basically flat tire him. Within a second you push him aside, derailing from your horrible leader.
“Well look who decided to show up.” Steve is missing a t- shirt, only wearing swimtrunks and it would be a lie to say you didn't feel your cheeks slightly warm up at the sight.
“I never said no.” You shrug.
“Never said yes.”
“Guess you should count yourself lucky I'm here then huh?” You give his bare shoulder a squeeze before moving past him to look at the food the kids have already mauled through.
Steve can't tell if his shoulder is burning from his few seconds out in the sun or from your simple touch, more so a gesture to get him to move but still. The skin on skin contact was enough to set fire in his shoulder, spreading to the rest of his body.
Your back is turned to him as you pick at some of the fruit. “You want me to get you a drink?” He asks from behind you. A little too close due to the fact that you just met him yesterday but the tension is strong enough that it almost doesn't feel close enough.
You simply nod at him, cheeks stuffed with sweet strawberries. The slight movement makes your shirt slip down your shoulder, the fabric there long since cut away. Bare skin shows along with a bathing suit he hasn't seen on you yet. It’s a nice red color that works well with your skin tone, could match the hint of your cheeks that you hope isn't showing as bad as it feels.
A cold beer is handed to you, as he starts to open his own. It takes only a few seconds till he clinks his beer to yours before he gestures his hand forward, wanting you to go in front of him. Again could be a nice well taught manner or an excuse to see your ass in the small shorts you have on. Instinctively you do as he says, walking ahead of him and waving to the kids you’ve already met before.
Steve even goes as far as to put his hand on the small of your back, leading you to the older teens that are there with their own respective drinks. The heat of the moment hits you, wanting to look good for the new people you're meeting, not expecting him to touch you like this, and being unable to give him a surprised look. So you greet them and introduce yourself like you can't still feel the warmth of his large hand resting on your back. When he moves to grab you a chair he even puts his hands slightly above your hips to move you away. All touchy and handsy for someone who only had the balls to invite you to this party just yesterday.
If these weren't Steve's closest friends it could almost be read as you two being a couple. Your chair being directly next to his, him waiting for you to sit in it before he even lets himself sit in his, continuously asking if you're okay when you get quiet. It’s all a lot. Plus the heat beaming down on you mixed with the fact that he’s shirtless adds tremendously to it. His chest hair paired with his tan skin that's littered with moles could have you drooling, shutting your thighs together.
Although he’s not the only one playing with fire. When you need another drink you squeeze his bicep to get his attention, and your voice is sugary sweet as you ask him to get you one. And when he comes back with it you put your hand high up on his thigh as a thank you, even leaving it there for a few painful seconds too long. To then press the cool drink to your neck and give a soft moan of relief.
What completely does it for Steve is when you take your shirt off, complaining of the heat and he sees your bathing suit. Still a two piece bathing suit, one that's got more coverage than the last few he’s seen you in. Knowing kids and people you don't know will be present but the red bra still fits you like a dream. Boobs cupped in fabric and wire for support that does just enough for the boy next to you. And it doesn't take a genius to notice he's eyeing them either. You can feel it.
As he tries to pull his eyes away needing to look at something else– anything else– he goes for your face, or your eyes rather. Except yours are already set right on him. Catching him in what he was doing, going from boobs to your lips to your eyes. Like a snake slithering and traveling up your body.
Before he knows it one second your hand interlocks with his and the next you’re pulling him into his own house.
The older teens are too busy talking already a few drinks deep and the kids have tired eyes, burning from trying to look under water even though Steve has repeatedly told them not to do it because the pool has chlorine in it. Leaving you two to be able to slip away almost too easily.
“Jesus what– what’re you doing?” He’s already out of breath, first from being dragged away and second from how thick the tension has become. Built in the last few hours you've been here.
“I saw you.” You’re practically backing him into the wall by the kitchen. It’s hidden from anyone if they tried to peek inside but the two of you aren't locked away from anyone.
Steve knows what you mean but he feels sick at the fact that you caught him so easily. That his need was written so clearly on his face. “You were practically shoving them in my face. What was I supposed to do?”
“Funny, acting like that’s not all you've been doing since the first time you saw me. You’re not as slick as you think.” With each back and forth comment you both make the closer you become. One more word and your chest he’s been stuck on will touch his.
“Yeah well when you wear stuff like that things happen.”
You should hit him. Tell him how awful he is to say something like that, especially if he wants something out of you. But instead the space between you closes and your lips meet his. There’s a millisecond of shock from Steve before he's kissing you back. All teeth and spit, messy and quick like he’s scared it might not last. His hands are quick to reach your hips, slowly but surely making his way round to your ass where you still have those stupid, barely there, little shorts on.
Before anything happens Steve flips your position. His tongue presses against your lips, begging asking to be let in, you grab his hands to pull them to your boobs. Your back arches off the wall, body trying to find some satisfaction in all this touching he's doing. Focusing on your tongue fighting with his and trying to pull your top down so he can finally have his way. Right hand grasping onto you and lightly pulling as the other pinches your nipple, making you squeal and momentarily disconnect your lips from his.
Your breaths merge, becoming one from how close you two are before he moves his head down. Moans slip past your lips with ease as he takes his time to kiss below your jaw, to your neck, lips finding their way to your collar bone, before reaching where he’s been so desperately looking. Sucking gently on your nipple as he massages the other one.
His knee forces your legs apart, and you let your knees bend to fully sit on his thigh. Trapped between his grip, mouth, and knee. Your brain feels empty, creating zero thoughts besides how good what he’s doing to you feels. Instead of thoughts your body reacts, trying to grind and make friction on his thigh you were touching up on earlier. It gets a groan out of him as well, letting go of your boobs to wrap his hands around your jaw to properly kiss you. When he pulls away a string of saliva stretched between both of your lips before breaking. The sound of the door is loud and Robin's voice follows after it.
“Steve hurry up, we need your help, the kids won't stop splashing us!” She shouts quickly, like there's a race against time that is not on her side. The door shuts loudly following silence, letting you know she's left.
With heavy breaths he brings the straps of your top back onto your shoulders, fixing it so it doesn't look like he was anywhere near you. Following that he presses a few gentle kisses to your lips, not wanting to leave you thinking this was just some casual mistake.
“Guess duty calls huh?” A small squeeze is given to your hip before he grabs your hand to go back outside, dropping it just before anyone would notice.
“Hey! What’d I say about splashing the water outta the pool? Huh?”
You almost don't have the brain power to change the look of shock on your face. So close to getting exactly what you wanted before getting completely stopped. Not just by Robin but Steve as well. Dropping it like it never happened. Like a tease to show you just what you could be missing. Well, two could play at that game.
big dick steve telling you he's gonna put a baby in you — 18+
steve's got you folded in half with your knees pushed up and your legs spread wide while he fucks into you in a mating press. a pillow rests under your hips so he can push in as deep as possible, tip kissing your cervix each time he slides all the way in with a wet plap. it makes you keen and squirm each time he bullies your cunt open with his cock, slamming in and out of you enough for his heavy balls to slap at the curve of your ass with each thrust.
the eye contact in this position is devastating. your face is so close to steve's, your mouth falling open as he pounds into you. he leans down and presses hot, open mouthed kisses against your lips, capturing all the little sounds you make. your thighs are handles for him as he spears his cock nice and deep into you, making sure that his tip pushes right up against all your little sweet spots. steve grinds himself as deep as your tight walls will let him.
steve wants you stretched wide, he wants you helpless beneath him, and he wants you looking at him while he ruins you.
"mhm... jus' like that." he groans breathily while his hips smack into yours hard enough to make the mattress squeak under both of you. you're clenching around him so tightly that he has to work to keep shoving his cock inside you; your hole sucking him in each time he tries to pull back. he groans into your mouth, eyes glassy. "you're gonna be… ah gosh- gonna have all my kids, y'know that? i'm gonna make you aaaall mine."
when you try to squirm and hide your face in your arm, steve just grabs your wrist and pins it back down against the mattress so he can see every twitch of your expression while steve's fucking you open like this. his pupils are blown, his mouth half-open from how heavy he's breathing, and every time you gasp or your eyes water he groans like you're milking him on purpose, addicted to the way your cunt tightens the second you get shy under his stare.
"look at me, mama," steve pants, voice low and wrecked, forcing your thighs wider when you try to close them against his hips, "wanna see how pretty you look when i give it to you. when i fill you up." his cock presses so deep with the next snap of his hips that your stomach flips and pussy throbs. "fuck, feels so full," you echo back, and he grunts, wanting you to address him by his proper title. he slams into you, bullying your soft insides with his girth. if you're mama, that makes him... "steve! ugh, daddy, i can't, 'm gonna cum!"
he moans loud at your words, close to the edge himself. he loves when you call him dirty things while pretending to be innocent. his sweet girl is so precious. "yeah. there it is, that's my good girl." he pushes down on the tummy bulge that forms each time he bottoms out. "see here? 's what you're gonna look like, with your belly full when i knock you up."
you whimper at the words while his cock slides in and out. there's less resistance now because you're soaking his shaft, and messy squelches fill your ears with each rough thrust.
your body starts to shake and gush around him, soaking the base of his cock. steve moans like it's the prettiest thing he's ever seen, like you've just proven his point. your cunt just agreed to everything he said without a word. and that's all he needs to bury himself inside you to the hilt and fill you with his thick load.
see more in my stranger things masterlist
see more in my main masterlist
keep this fic alive by reblogging it and commenting if you loved it!
summary: on a seemingly normal afternoon at family video, steve finds out a well-kept secret that everyone apparently knows, except for him: girls can like porn.
content/warnings: smut-adjacent but no actual smut (still 18+/mdni), black cat!reader x golden retriever!steve dynamic, platonic stobin, steve reads playboy, himbo!steve energy
word count: 1k
STEVE HARRINGTON IS SWEET, COMPASSIONATE, AND KIND. he's nothing short of foolish, if not a bit of a (lovable) himbo, and, as your boyfriend, is always extremely keen on making you feel good both in and out of the bedroom.
and even with his exceedingly well-liked reputation around hawkins, he apparently had absolutely zero idea girls could like porn.
the conversation happens one day when you make a harmless joke. you're visiting him and robin during their shift at family video; you, leaning back on your elbows against the front desk while steve pretends like he doesn't want to tuck his fingers into your belt loops and pull you in to kiss until his lips swell.
robin's reorganizing the front display of new arrivals while occasionally piping up with her own commentary, which steve reminds her is very much not asked for.
"what're you thinking about renting for movie night?" steve asks, fidgeting with a loose thread on the hem of his store-issued green vest. you hum, tilting your head.
"haven't really thought about it yet," you reply, pressing your lips thoughtfully. "maybe rob and i will just go for one of those skin flicks in the back this week."
robin snorts at your crass joke while steve cackles a little too loudly.
"yeah, like girls like dirty movies."
and that's when all hell breaks loose.
suddenly, the conversation comes to a halting screech. robin's eyebrows shoot up to her forehead and your look of confused distress is certainly no better. your boyfriend, abruptly filled with insecurity, stumbles over his words.
"why are you guys lookin' at me like that?" he demands. "what'd i say?"
robin sets the stack of tapes she's holding down on the floor. "steve," she says slowly. "...you do know girls can have an interest in porn, right? and like... nudie mags and dirty books, and all that kind of stuff. the same way guys can."
he blinks, and you swear you can see his brain exploding piece by piece.
then, he turns to you.
"when were you gonna tell me this?!" he exclaims, hands slapping down on the counter.
"i thought you knew!" you cry, arms up in mock defense, "you've had girlfriends before, i didn't think i had to explain how libido works—"
"libi— i don't need a lesson in anatomy—"
"oh jesus christ," robin mutters to herself, walking away with a shake of her head. you grab steve's arm and haul him in the direction of the break room, where you can talk freely without robin listening (and promptly reporting back to the rest of the group).
"first of all, libido means sex drive, steve. you're thinking of labia," you quickly explain. his plush lips form a small o-shape, and you resist the urge to roll your eyes. "secondly, yes, anyone can like porn. you know playboy has a magazine just of men?"
"what?!"
"yes, it's called playgirl, and—"
"wait, how do you know that? do you read it?"
you flash him a dirty look. "no, steve. when i was in middle school, maddie crowe stole a copy from her mom and we looked at it at her sleepover party."
steve's eyes widen. "damn. good for maddie crowe's mom."
you digress.
"well... you don't rent those dirty movies from here, do you? you and robin aren't, like, secretly trading pornos?"
you can't help the laugh that breaks free from behind your lips before shaking your head. "no, no. nothing like that."
a look of relief washes over steve's face and he leans forward, loosely intertwining your fingers together. you give his hand a small squeeze; a wordless form of affection and assurance tied into one.
and then, steve smirks — classically boyish, like he always does before he says something that ends with you smacking his chest or rolling your eyes.
"so if not dirty magazines... and you're not renting movies... what are you into, then?"
expectedly, you glare at him.
"i'm just asking!" he exclaims in mock innocence. "you found those playboys i have hidden under my bed..."
"mhmm," you nod, remembering the day the kids, as usual, arrived at steve's house unannounced, sending you into a panicked flurry as you ran around his bedroom, trying to locate where your boyfriend had thrown your bra and panties. you hadn't been angry about the skin mags, especially because they were from the years he'd been in high school, before you'd even met. they were just... there. steve claims he barely uses them to get off now, but if you're being truthful, you wouldn't care if he did — not when you have your own stash of material.
"sooooo..." steve loops his fingers through the loops of your denim jeans, pulling your chest flush against his. you laugh and bat at his chest.
"fine," you mutter, making his eyes widen with excitement. "i have a small collection of... dirty books."
for a second, it looks like steve's brain short circuits.
"books?" he repeats.
you nod, "yeah. they're, like, sexy books."
"baby... books aren't sexy."
you glare at him.
"i beg to differ," you bite. "they're all pretty much describing and writing out sex scenes and stuff. okay, maybe it doesn't sound super hot, but i promise it is, and—"
steve's grinning now as you ramble, capturing your lips in a kiss and cutting off your tangent explanation.
"i'm kidding," he mutters, plush lips brushing against yours. "i think anything that gets you off is hot. maybe you can read me your favorite sometime."
"in your dreams, harrington."
"maybe it will be," he smirks, wiggling his eyebrows, "my new fantasy, hm? you reading me your dirty books while you ride me."
"sounds like a lot of work on my end," you fake a pout. "maybe while you go down on me instead."
steve groans, ducking his head back to expose the soft skin of his throat.
pairing: steve harrington x reader
summary: steve harrington thinks that dustin's older sister (and billy hargrove's on and off girlfriend) deserves better than what she has.
themes & warnings: steve harrington head over heels, henderson!reader, billy hargrove being a dickmunch, fighting/violence, swearing, angst if u squint, resolution!! we love steve he's such a good man UGH love him
he wasn't sure what it was that made you so hard to stop thinking about. well, in that way.
he knew it was dustin's mouth that constantly kept you in the loop in steve's mind. you were his older sister, his idol and best friend, and there was mention of you in every conversation that he had with dustin nowadays. before now, though, steve had never thought of you romantically. for as long as he'd known you and as long as he'd known dustin, you were strictly off limits and he never looked at you as anything more than that.
you were drop dead gorgeous, of course. curls like dustin's, expressive e/c eyes, plush lips, and a commanding attitude just like your brother's. he knew a lot of pretty girls, though, so he was certain that your looks weren't what made you so attractive to steve. after all, nancy wheeler was pretty, but he only thought about her when she was right in front of him.
you had something else.
something he saw in the way that you loved and cared for your brother, always making sure he had someone that would listen to him and spend time with him. playing video games with dustin (and steve himself on occasion), taking him for car rides and stopping to get ice cream, going frog hunting with him at 11 o'clock at night because he wanted to study them for some nerd shit he was doing.
your love for dustin had no bounds. your compassion for other people had no bounds. all around, you were just an incredible woman.
"steve." dustin interrupted again, rolling his eyes. "could you stop staring at my sister and pull out of the driveway? we're gonna be late to--"
"i know, i know." steve shook his head, tearing his eyes away from where you were standing on the porch, waving dustin off. he put the car in reverse and pulled out onto the street, leaving you behind.
"you've been doing that a lot lately," dustin commented, buckling his seatbelt.
"doing what?"
"staring. at my sister. it's weird, man."
"its not weird," steve defended, a little too quickly and eagerly for dustin's liking. "i was just making sure she got inside safe."
"right. because the big bad squirrels are gonna get her between the car and the front door." dustin snorted. "you know she can handle herself. she dated a guy for six months who tried to teach her how to throw a punch."
steve's grip on the steering wheel tightened. he knew exactly who dustin was talking about. billy. the mention of that name was like a splash of cold water, killing his fantasies and instantly souring his mood. he'd seen the way billy talked to you, the possessive grip on your arm in the school hallway, the way your smile would dim sometimes when he rolled his eyes at something you said.
"yeah, well, maybe she shouldn't have to."
dustin was quiet for a moment, studying his friend's profile. "you like her."
"it's not that simple, henderson."
"it is! you stare, you sigh, you ask weird, probing questions about her weekend plans. it's textbook. even mike noticed, and he's emotionally stunted."
steve sighed, running a hand through his perfectly coiffed hair. "she's with billy."
"on and off," dustin corrected. "mostly off lately, from what i hear of it. and he's a dickmunch."
a laugh burst out of steve, unexpected and sharp. "a what?"
"a dickmunch. you know, a muncher of--"
"i get it, i get it." steve shook his head, smile fading. "he is. and she deserves..." he trailed off, because the list was endless. you deserved someone who looked at you like you'd hung the moon, not like you were a prize he'd won. you deserved someone who made you laugh until you snorted, not flinch when he raised his voice. you deserved someone who saw the brilliant, stubborn, kind hearted person you were, not just a pretty face on his arm.
you deserved better.
in steve's opinion, you deserved him. he would treasure you.
"alright, asshole. stop daydreaming about my sister and drive."
the bluntness of dustin's command, paired with the sheer, terrifying truth that had just crystallized in his own mind, snapped steve back to reality. a faint blush crawled up his neck.
"right. driving." he cleared his throat, focusing intently on the road ahead.
but the thought was out there now, fully formed and undeniable, playing on a loop in his head to the rhythm of the turning tires. and when steve got a thought in his head, it wouldn't budge until something was done about it.
she deserves better. she deserves me.
sighing, he reached and turned the radio up.
for as long as you could remember, dustin had been your best friend. it was as easy as breathing.
he was your younger brother, yes, but you were sure that the little shit was some form of soulmate for you. he understood you completely and in return, you understood him in ways that nobody else would. his nerdy habits, the way he didn't quite feel right going into high school, oddly out of place everywhere he went. you accepted him no matter what.
when he was 5 and you were 8, he started having nightmares. he'd come padding into your room, his little face pale in the moonlight, clutching his favorite blanket. without a word, you'd lift your covers and he'd scramble in, his small, cold feet pressing against your legs.
"tell me about the stars," he'd whisper, his voice trembling. even at that age, he had an interest in all of the things he couldn't yet understand.
you'd tell him. you'd teach him about constellations, making up names and stories for them. you'd talk about how they were giant balls of gas, millions of miles away, but how their light still reached all the way to hawkins, indiana, just to make the night a little less dark. you'd talk until his grip on your t-shirt loosened in sleep and his panicked breathing evened out.
you were his first call for everything. the triumphs, like the first time he successfully built a radio from scratch. the heartbreaks, like when the kids at the park wouldn't let him play because he talked about "nerd stuff." you were his defender, his cheerleader, his safe place.
tonight, dustin had a school dance. you also had a party the same night, something for older kids, one thing that dustin couldn't join you for. but you still wanted to see him off.
you stood in the doorway of his room, watching him fumble with his tie. his brow was furrowed in concentration, a perfect mirror of the expression he wore when tackling something complex. the most difficult things were easy for him, and the most simple stumped him. it was a dustin thing. steve sat at his desk, smoothing the thighs of his jeans out. mike and lucas were sprawled out on dustin's bed, crumpling his sheets and their suits. will checked his reflection in the mirror.
sensing dustin's stress, you and steve moved at the same time to help. but of course, you were quicker.
you were at his side in an instant, your fingers brushing his away. "let me."
you worked quickly, efficiently, looping and tightening the fabric into a respectable knot. the whole room had gone quiet, watching you. you could feel steve's gaze, a warm, steady pressure.
"thanks," dustin mumbled, his shoulders slumping in relief.
"anytime, dusty," you said softly, smoothing the tie against his dress shirt. you gave his shoulders a squeeze. "you look handsome."
the honk of a car horn from outside broke the moment. mrs. henderson was ready to go.
"alright, let's move it, lover boys!" steve clapped his hands together, rising from the desk chair. "your chariot, -- by chariot, i mean your mom's station wagon -- awaits."
the kids scrambled off the bed, grumbling and straightening their suits. as they filed out, you nudged dustin.
"be confident. smile. make the first move. everything will work itself out." you smiled softly at the nervous fifteen year old. dustin took a deep breath, puffing his chest out a little.
"right. confident. i can do confident."
he marched out with a new determination.
"love you! have fun!" you shouted down the hall.
a muffled "love you too!" floated back, followed by the sound of the front door slamming shut.
silence descended upon the house, thick and sudden. the absence of the kids' chaotic energy was always a little jarring. you stood there for a moment in dustin's doorway. you really wished him good luck, but part of you was anxious about how it would go.
"he'll be okay." steve said warmly from behind you.
you turned, not realizing he'd lingered. he was leaning against the door frame, jacket slung over his shoulder and shirt stained with hair gel from his help styling dustin. he looked at ease, but his eyes were intently focused on you.
"how do you know?' you asked, the worry for your brother making your voice softer than usual.
"because he's a henderson," he shrugged, pushing off the frame to come closer. "and henderson's are stubborn, and smart, and way more charming than they have any right to be." a small, knowing smile played on his lips. "sound familiar?"
your breath hitched, but you disguised it. he was standing close enough now that you could smell his cologne, something clean and sharp, cutting through the familiar scent of dustin's model glue and comic books.
"looks like you're laying the charm on thick tonight, too, harrington." you teased, ignoring the way his easy smile gnawed at your chest.
he grinned again, shoving his hands into his pockets.
"so. you're headed to that party tonight? at tommy's?"
you nodded, shrugging.
"why not? dustin's out of the house tonight and mom's chaperoning. i might as well find something to do too," you hummed. "plus.. billy. he doesn't like going anywhere without a plus one."
the moment billy's name left your lips, you saw it. a subtle shift in steve's posture. the grin didn't vanish completely, but it tightened at the edges. the warmth in his eyes cooled into something sharper, more assessing.
"right. billy," he said, the name bitter on his tongue. he looked away, his gaze sweeping over dustin's cluttered room as if searching for something. "he's a real.. social butterfly, that one."
you heard the unspoken critique layered beneath the casual words. you'd heard it from others (mom, your friends) but coming from steve, it felt different. it didn't feel like a judgement of your choices. it felt like genuine concern.
"he can be," you conceded, your own defensiveness rising out of habit. "when he wants to be."
steve's eyes snapped back to yours, the deep intensity pinning you in place. "and what about what you want?"
the question, so direct and unexpected, stole the air from your lungs. you opened your mouth to reply with another deflection, another 'it's fine', but the words died in your throat. because standing there in the quiet of your brother's room, with steve harrington looking at you like he could see every crack in your armor, "fine" felt like the biggest lie you'd ever told.
you thought of billy's possessive grip on your waist in crowded rooms. the way he'd scoff if you suggested a movie he didn't like. the slow, steady erosion of your own voice to keep the peace.
steve took a half-step closer, his voice dropping, sincere and rough around the edges. "you know, you don't need a plus-one to be somebody, henderson. you're already somebody. all on your own."
his words landed like a physical touch, a gentle hand steadying you. he wasn't telling you what to do. he was reminding you that you had a choice. that you were whole, with or without billy hargrove on your arm.
the front door slammed again downstairs, followed by the distant sound of mrs. henderson calling, "steve? the kids are getting restless!" he was still expected to give a couple of the kids a ride. your mom only had so much room in the station wagon.
he held your gaze for a moment longer, a silent question hanging in the space between you. then he gave a small, almost imperceptible nod, as if he'd said all he needed to say.
"have a good night," he said softly, and then he turned and walked out of the room, his footsteps echoing down the stairs.
sighing, trying to erase the feeling in your chest that had just invaded your entire being, you left dustin's room and went into your own. you opened your closet, pulling your outfit for the party out and got ready.
you were going to be with your boyfriend in an hour and a half. so why couldn't you stop thinking about steve harrington?
the party was loud. obnoxiously so.
the bass from the speakers thrummed through the floor, vibrating up through the soles of your shoes and into your bones. you nursed a drink, one that billy had made (far too strong for your taste). his arm was tight around your waist and he pulled you wherever he went. you talked to all kinds of people, smiling in their faces like he wanted you to do, but not saying much. you wanted to get drunk. you wouldn't. billy would get hammered and need a ride home.
every time you tried to shift away, his grip tightened, pulling you back against his side. a silent command. stay put.
you nodded at something carol said, but you didn't hear a word. your mind was still miles away, trapped in the quiet of dustin's bedroom and scent of steve's cologne.
"you're already somebody. all on your own."
steve's voice, cutting clear through the noise in your mind, echoed in your head. you could still see the way he'd looked at you -- not with possession, not with lust, but with quiet reverence and respect. like you were a person. not a prize. and to be honest, it had rocked you through your core. truly shaken you up into a confused mess.
billy leaned down, his breath hot and smelling of beer against your ear. "smile, baby. you look like you're at a funeral."
you glanced up to meet his eyes, forcing a smile.
"sorry."
within an hour, billy was drunk. not too drunk, but not sober enough to be intelligent.
he was leaning on you, his words hot into your hair as he tried to whisper something that was probably meant to be seductive but just came out sloppy. the weight of him, the smell of cheap beer and cologne, was suffocating. this was it. this was the whole night, and every night with him, stretching out in front of you -- a life of being an anchor for a sinking ship.
your eyes scanned the hazy, crowded room, landing on the front door. freedom was twenty feet away.
"billy," you said, your voice firm as you tried to peel his hands from your waist. "i think you've had enough. let's get you some water."
"don' need water," he mumbled, his grip on you tightening. "need my girl. let's find a bathroom."
your jaw dropped.
"billy, no, we--"
"yes. let's go, sugar tits."
you glared at him, but part of you knew better than to do this. he was going to get what he wanted anyways. he always did. by being mean.
"i don't want to sleep with you."
his blue eyes went from drunk and hazy to sharp immediately.
the shift was instantaneous and terrifying. his grip on your waist went from heavy to bruising, like you were a dog trying to run away from the house again.
"what did you just say to me?" his voice was low, a dangerous whisper that cut through the party's noise.
you swallowed, your heart hammering against your ribs. every instinct screamed to back down, to placate him, to give him the smile and apology that would smooth things over. it was the same song and dance every time you fell back into him.
but then, your mind echoed again.
you're already somebody. all on your own.
the words weren't a gentle memory this time. they were a battle cry.
"i said," you repeated, your voice gaining strength, laced with a defiance that made billy's eyes narrow, "i don't want to sleep with you. not now. not ever again. you're an asshole."
the silence that fell between you was louder than the music. billy's face twisted, ugly with rage and wounded pride.
"you don't get to say that to me," he snarled, pulling you closer, his face inches from yours. "you better fuckin' behave before i--"
you shoved against his chest with all your might. "let go of me, billy!"
the scene had drawn attention. people were staring. all the sudden, you saw steve's face, meeting your eyes from across the room. you hadn't even known he was at the party, not thinking these things were his scene anymore.
he took in the situation in a single, sweeping glance -- your panicked expression, billy's aggressive stance, the bruising grip on your arm.
he was moving before you could even process it. he didn't shout. he didn't make a scene. he moved through the crowd like a shark through water, silent and deadly fast. in the space of a single heartbeat, he was there.
steve's hand clamped down on billy's wrist, the one that was digging into your arm. his grip wasn't just firm; it was brutal.
"hey!" billy yelped, his head whipping around, his drunken rage redirected.
"let go of her. now."
billy gritted his teeth, turning closer to steve. you knew nothing about this was going to work out well. billy never backed down, and steve had just caused him to boil over.
"steve, its okay." you cut in, wanting to make peace.
"it's not okay," steve said, his voice cutting through your plea without even taking his eyes off billy. his tone wasn't harsh with you, but it was final. this was not up for negotiation. "none of this is okay. it's not gonna fucking happen."
billy let out a low, ugly laugh. "you hear her? better listen to her. she knows her place. maybe you should learn yours." that was the final word. billy swung, a wild throw. steve, expecting it, dodged easily. but he didn't retaliate. billy was shocked, embarrassed, enraged.
"outside." he hissed, forging a burning hot path to the front door, pushing whoever was in the way to the side.
your eyes were wide and panicked as you glanced at steve. you grabbed his arm, reaching for anything you could grab to keep him from doing this. this wasn't what you wanted.
"steve. please. i'm begging you not to do this. billy is--"
once again you were cut off.
"--not going to touch you ever again."
steve's voice was quiet, but the certainty made the hair on your arms stand up. he finally looked at you, and the raw determination in his eyes stole the air from your lungs. this wasn't about pride or a stupid high school rivalry. this was about you. protecting your honor, protecting you.
he gently pried your hand from his arm, giving your fingers a reassuring squeeze before letting go. then, he walked towards the front door.
biting your lip, anxiousness making you jittery, you followed him as fast as you could, swinging the door open and running out into the yard. the porch light cast a sickly yellow scene in the front yard. billy was pacing, a caged animal, rolling his shoulders and cracking his neck.
"changed your mind? gonna hide behind my woman's skirt?" billy taunted.
steve didn't answer the taunt. he simply swung.
the punch wasn't wild or telegraphed. it was short, brutal, and connected with billy's jaw with a sickening crack. it was the answer to every sneer, every insult, every time billy'd laid an unkind hand on you.
billy staggered back, more out of shock than pain at first. he touched his jaw, his eyes wide with disbelief, before they narrowed into slits of pure venom.
"you're fucking dead, harrington."
then it was chaos.
they came together in a storm of fists and grunts. it was ugly, raw, devoid of any technique. steve got a few good shots in -- billy's nose poured blood, his eyebrow was split -- but billy was bigger, meaner, and drunk on beer and rage. he took the hits and gave them back worse. steve was gasping for air and coated in blood. billy wiped his face on his jacket, blood from his eyebrow seeping down into his vision.
finally, when it seemed steve couldn't continue and billy had lost track of how many times he'd hit the man, you screamed.
"GET OFF HIM, BILLY!"
tears ran down your face as you sniffled, your throat hurting from how loud you'd projected your voice. you were terrified, disgusted, and pissed.
"please, billy! just stop it. i'm begging you."
the raw plea in your voice did what your anger could not. it cut through the drunken haze and the rage. billy froze, his fist hovering in the air. he looked from steve, bloody and beaten on the ground, to you, your face a mess of tears and despair. for a single second, you saw something flicker in his blue eyes. not regret. comprehension. he saw your sorrow, he saw what he'd become to you. you'd gone from two teenagers in love to a man tormenting a woman who deserved more than him.
his arm dropped to his side. he took a stumbling step back, his chest heaving.
without another word, he spat blood onto the ground next to steve's body, a snide reminder to steve of who'd won. then, he spared you one last glance before disappearing from the area.
with hot tears continuing to pour down, you sprinted to steve. the wounded man used the moment to push himself up onto his elbows, coughing, spitting a glob of blood onto the grass. he didn't try to get up. he just looked at you, his one good eye full of a pained, unwavering devotion.
you fell to your knees beside him, reaching for his face, making your touch as gentle as you could.
"steve," you sniffled, your thumb wiping blood and dirt from his cheek. "i told you i didn't want this. i asked you not to and now you're--"
he caught your wrist, his grip surprisingly firm. he turned his head just enough to press a kiss to your palm, leaving a faint, bloody smudge on your skin.
"don't," he rasped, his voice a raw scrape. "'s okay. i promise."
a sob caught in your throat. "but you're--"
"i'm fine," he insisted, his voice intense. "he could have hit me a hundred more times. it would've been worth it." he tried to shift, to sit up more, but a sharp hiss of pain escaped his lips. you reached around his back, holding him steady.
"worth it?" you whispered, incredulous. "you're bleeding from.. everywhere. you can't even sit up. because of me." you sniffled.
"not because of you," he gritted out, the eye that wasn't swollen locking onto yours with a ferocity that made you flinch. "for you. there's a.. a world of difference. trust me."
he groaned, using your shoulder for leverage to finally, painfully sit up all the way. his breath came in ragged pants, but he didn't look away. "just bruises and cuts. they'll go away in a while."
he reached up, his hand trembling slightly, and cupped your cheek. his thumb stroked away a tear, his touch infinitely gentle despite the blood caked on his knuckles. you leaned into him, the last of your resistance crumbling. he was right. the fight had been horrible, but it had been a line in the sand. a bloody declaration that billy couldn't continue to run your life anymore.
"okay," you whispered, your voice finally steady. you slipped your arm all the way around him. "okay. let's get you cleaned up."
he leaned on you heavily as you helped him get to his feet and to his car. every step was a shared effort, a silent promise. as you opened the passenger door, he paused, looking at you with a mixture of exhaustion and utter devotion.
"hey," he said softly. "for the record.. you were the strongest one here."
as you drove away from the chaos, the boy who had fought for you slept fitfully in the seat beside you.
the rest of that night was long. you cleaned steve's wounds, apologizing softly when he hissed, and foraged his kitchen for something to ice his bruises. when you felt you'd successfully doctored him up, you helped him up the stairs to his bed.
his room smelled of cedar and aftershave. exactly like you'd imagined it.
helping him into bed, you tucked the blankets over him and said goodnight, racing down the stairs in disbelief that any of this had even happened.
you drove home, crawled into your own bed, and cried a little. then, you fell asleep thinking about steve harrington. not billy hargrove.
the morning came too quickly. before you were ready, you heard your brother come into your room, plopping into bed beside you. the mattress dipped, startling you from a sleep filled with fractured images of blood and unwavering brown eyes. you blinked, the morning light stinging, to find dustin staring at you, his face far too close and etched with dramatic concern.
"you're alive," he stated, as if he'd expected otherwise.
"barely," you groaned, pulling the covers over your head. the events of last night came rushing back -- the screaming, the blood, steve's broken body leaning on yours. your heart gave a painful lurch.
"i heard," dustin said, his voice uncharacteristically quiet. you peeked out from under the duvet. he was fiddling with a loose thread on your comforter. "about the fight. at tommy's. the whole school's talking about it."
you sat up slowly, your body aching with a phantom sympathy for steve's injuries. "what are they saying?"
"that king steve got his ass kicked defending you from your asshole boyfriend," dustin said, a hint of awe in his voice. then his brow furrowed. "is it true? did he really tell billy to fuck off and then just... take the beating?"
the memory of steve's voice, raw and certain, echoed in your mind. he could have hit me a hundred more times. it would've been worth it.
"yeah," you whispered, your throat tight. "it's true. and watch your language."
dustin was silent for a long moment, ignoring your scolding. "he likes you. like, really likes you." he said it with the grave seriousness of a scientist stating a proven fact.
a fresh wave of tears pricked your eyes, but this time, they weren't from fear or guilt. they were from a overwhelming, terrifying sense of hope. "i know."
"good," dustin declared, nodding once. "because billy's a dickmunch and i wish i could fight him. and steve... he's got the good hair." he patted your leg through the blanket. "now, get up. we're going to family video."
you started to sniffle again, more tears falling.
dustin sighed, opening his arms.
the simple, open gesture was your undoing. a sob broke free from your chest, and you launched yourself into your brother's arms, burying your face in his shoulder. he held you tightly, his small frame surprisingly sturdy, and let you cry it all out -- the fear, the relief, the dizzying hope.
"it's okay," he mumbled, patting your back awkwardly. "he's gonna be okay. steve's tough. he fought a demogor-- i mean, he's really tough."
you pulled back, wiping your eyes with the heel of your hand. "i know he is."
"and if billy ever shows his face again," dustin continued, his expression turning fierce, "we'll set mews on him."
a wet laugh escaped you. "mews is a cat, dustin."
"a very strategic cat," he insisted, his seriousness making you laugh harder, the sound mingling with your fading tears. he grinned, seeing he'd achieved his goal. "now, seriously. get dressed. we have a mission."
twenty minutes later, you were pulling up outside the familiar strip mall, the family video logo a beacon of normalcy. your stomach was a knot of nerves. what would you even say to him?
dustin, of course, had no such reservations. he marched right in, the bell above the door jingling cheerfully.
"harrington!" he bellowed, making both you and steve's coworker, who was behind the counter, jump.
steve emerged from the back room, and your breath caught. he looked... rough. one eye was a spectacular palette of purple and black, swollen nearly shut. a butterfly bandage held together a cut on his eyebrow, and his lip was split. but he was clean, and he was standing, and when his good eye found you, it lit up with a warmth that made your knees feel weak.
"hey, henderson," steve said, his voice a little hoarse. his gaze flickered to you. "hey."
dustin, completely oblivious to the charged silence, slapped a VHS tape on the counter. "we brought you a get-well-soon gift. the thing. it's about a shapeshifting alien that assimilates other life forms. i figured you could relate to feeling like your face is trying to kill you. and they don't have this tape here, so its new for you. and you look like shit because you got beat up for my sister. so i thought a gift was in order."
a laugh burst out of you, sharp and surprised, cutting through the last of your nerves. steve’s good eye widened in mock offense, but a real smile tugged at his split lip.
“you’re a little shit, you know that?” steve said, but there was no heat in it. he picked up the tape. “but… thanks, man. i think.”
“you’re welcome,” dustin said, beaming with pride. he then turned to you, his expression turning business-like. “okay, my work here is done. i’m going to go see if they have the new issue of dragon magazine. try not to do anything gross while I’m gone.” he scurried off toward the magazine rack.
the silence he left behind was different now -- softer, charged with a new understanding. you looked back at steve, at the brutal map of devotion painted across his face.
"he's not wrong," you said softly, your gaze tracing the purple bruise around his eye. "you do look like shit."
steve shrugged, his hand still resting on the vhs tape. "worth it."
that phrase again.
"you keep saying that." you said softly, taking a step closer to the counter.
he held your gaze, unwavering. "because its true." he came out from around the counter, walking up to you slowly. he limped a little, making you wince. the scent of his aftershave, familiar and comforting, mixed with the faint, clean smell of antiseptic from his cuts, fell over you. "seeing you walk in here, looking for me. definitely worth it."
from the back, steve's coworker cleared his throat loudly. "just so you two know, public displays of affection are against store policy. it disturbs the other customers." he gestured to the completely empty store.
steve didn't respond. he just kept looking at you, a slow, genuine smile spreading across his face. "wanna talk in the break room really quick?"
your heart gave a single, hard thump against your ribs. steve's gaze was an open question, full of hope and vulnerability.
"yeah," you breathed, your voice barely a whisper. "okay."
steve’s smile widened, and he turned, gesturing for you to follow him with a slight tilt of his head. He led you past his coworker, who was now very pointedly studying the label on a can of film cleaner, and through a door marked ‘STAFF ONLY’.
the break room was a tiny, windowless space that smelled like stale coffee and old microwave popcorn. a rickety table and two chairs were shoved against one wall. It was the least romantic place on earth, but with steve closing the door softly behind you, it felt like a sanctuary.
he turned to face you, leaning back against the door, his hands shoved in his pockets. the bravado he’d shown out front seemed to have evaporated, leaving behind a raw, nervous energy.
"look, about last night..." he started, then stopped, shaking his head. "no. not about the fight. about... before the fight." he took a deep breath, his good eye searching your face. "when i said you deserved better. i wasn't just talking about billy."
your breath hitched. "what were you talking about, steve?"
"me," he said, the word simple and stark. "i was talking about me. or... the guy i used to be. the king steve asshole who would've probably been friends with a guy like billy." he gestured vaguely to his own battered face. "i'm not that guy anymore. i haven't been for a long time. but you... you make me want to be even better. you make me want to be the guy who deserves to be the better man for you."
"you are," you whispered, closing the small distance between you. you reached up, your fingers gently tracing the line of the butterfly bandage on his brow. "you're that guy, steve. i've never been prouder to say it."
he let out a shaky breath, his shoulders slumping as if a great weight had been lifted. he brought his hands up to cradle your face, his touch impossibly gentle.
"can i..?" he whispered, his gaze dropping to your lips.
in answer, you rose up on your toes and closed the final, breathless inch between you.
the kiss was nothing like you'd imagined. it wasn't wild or desperate. it was soft. a little hesitant. a silent conversation of apology and promise, of past pain and future hope. you could taste the faint, metallic tang of blood from his split lip, a stark reminder of everything he'd endured, and it made the tenderness of the kiss all the more profound.
when you finally pulled apart, you rested your forehead against his, both of you breathing a little raggedly.
"you're sure i'm what you want?" steve asked softly, his thumb stroking your cheekbone. you nodded, laughing breathlessly.
"no one's ever asked me that before, but yes. i've never been more sure. you are exactly what i want."
the words seemed to unlock something in him. the last vestige of tension drained from his shoulders, and the smile that spread across his face was so bright, so unguarded, it made your heart ache. it was a smile untouched by the bruises, a glimpse of the man he was underneath all the bravado and the pain.
"good," he breathed, his voice thick with emotion. he leaned in and pressed another, firmer kiss to your lips, this one full of a quiet, certain joy. "because you're stuck with me now, henderson."
From the other side of the door, Dustin's voice echoed, loud and impatient. "GET OUT OF THERE! TIME'S UP, HARRINGTON, AND THERE BETTER BE NO HICKEYS!"
steve threw his head back and laughed, a real, full-bodied sound that made him wince and clutch his ribs, but he didn't stop. he was still chuckling as he pressed one last, quick kiss to your forehead.
"come on," he said, his voice warm with amusement. he kept a firm arm around your shoulders, tucking you into his side as he opened the break room door. "duty calls."
you emerged back into the store to find dustin standing with his arms crossed, tapping his foot dramatically. steve's coworker, jon, was leaning on the counter, smirking.
"good." dustin announced to the empty store. "no hickeys. i'm both relieved and feeling respected."
steve rolled his good eye, but the smile never left his face. "what do you want next, henderson? a written report on the horror of premarital touching?"
"yes, actually. in triplicate." dustin pointed a finger at him. "but for now, you can start by explaining the thematic parallels between the thing and your current physical state."
as steve launched into a mock-serious, pain-filled analysis for your brother, you leaned against the counter next to jon.
he nudged you with his elbow, his voice a low whisper. "so. you and king steve. officially a thing?"
you watched steve, who was now letting dustin "examine" his black eye with a scientific intensity, patiently answering his ridiculous questions. your heart felt so full you thought it might burst.
"yeah," you said, a slow, sure smile spreading across your face. "we're a thing."
it wasn't a perfect, storybook ending. there were still bruises to heal and conversations to be had. but right there, in the fluorescent glow of family video, surrounded by your two favorite guys, it was better than perfect. it was real. and it was yours.
