your ivy grows, and now im covered in you

“Um yeah,” you mutter, because you may have to fake your body language, leaning away from him in a way that’s supposed to express discomfort, but you don’t have to fake your shyness. 

“Lemme buy you a drink. Pretty thing like you shouldn’t be left alone.”

“I’m good, thanks,” you say, twisting your beer bottle around. 

“C’mon, just one drink. I don’t bite unless you want me to,” he says smirking, and the way he says it is so unlike Dean, it sets your teeth on edge. If you were really a girl he was trying to pick up, he would have taken no for an answer, but left the door open for you to change your mind, which you inevitably would. He would have said something like; ‘If you’re sure. You know where to find me, baby’ and taken his seat back with a flirty wink. He wouldn’t have insisted or thrown that corny, overused innuendo at you.

“No, really, I’m okay. Thank you.” And you’re squashing your eyebrows together, squirming in your seat, trying to look intimidated but this is Dean and nothing about him is intimidating. Not to you.

“It’s just one fuckin’ drink, bitch. Don’t be such a stuck-up priss.” 

Dean’s a good actor but you know he feels remotely uncomfortable having to say any of this to you. It doesn’t matter. The man beside you, taller than Dean but not quite as broad, stands up off his stool. 

“Didn’t you hear the lady? She said she doesn’t want a drink, punk.”

Dean makes a big show of backing off, raising his hands in submission and muttering something about how he was ‘only trying to be nice’, before backing away to his table once again. You turn to your saviour with a smile that you hope is radiant.

“Thank you so much,” you simper. “That got a bit scary for a second.”

He looks nice. He is lightly tanned with wavy brown hair, soft green eyes and a handsome smile that verges on shy. You think that this must be what Sam would look like, if life had been a little kinder to him.

“Don’t mention it,” he says with a modest shrug. “God, I can’t stand guys like that. I’m sorry you had to deal with that.”

“Happens more often than you think. Not many people would step in like you just did.”

His chest puffs out like a pigeon at the praise. “Maybe it’s because I’m a cop, but I can’t stand when people sit around and do nothing when something like that is happening in front of them. Makes me sick.”

“You’re a cop?” you ask, smiling and trying to do that ‘doe-eyed shit’ that Dean always accuses you of. It’s harder to do on demand. “That’s so cool, I really admire you guys. Your job must be really hard.”

He shrugs again, cheeks going a dusty pink. “It’s worth it if I can get to help people. But yeah, it can get a bit hairy sometimes.”

“I bet,”  you sigh. “I heard about this weird killing spree in the next town over. Those guys sure aren’t living the dream right now. I can’t imagine all the things they have to see.”

He straightens up immediately, animation dropping from his face. “Actually, I- uh, I’m working on those cases right now. You’re right, it’s not pretty.”

You’re losing him. His eyes are drifting away from you, away from the conversation. He’s searching for an out. You’re dimly aware of Dean’s eyes on you from afar, boring holes into your head. In a blind panic, your eyebrows shoot to your hairline, one hand reaching out to his arm in a consoling manner. His eyes drop just once to where your hand meets his wax, green jacket and you feel him coming back to you. 

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry for bringing that up,” you say, teeth worrying your lip with anxiety that you don’t really have to falsify. “I had no idea. I’m a bit of a true crime junkie, but the last thing you want to do is talk about that right now on your time off. I’m just gonna go. It was nice meeting you and thanks for, uh-” You make a vague gesture towards Dean, who is still watching you with dark eyes.

“No,” he says, hand moving over your own one on his arm to stop you from moving. He smiles in such a genuine way, it almost makes you feel guilty. “I can let you in on a couple secrets if you promise to keep it between us.”

You brush your hair behind your ear and laugh, soft and shy.

“I’m Jeremy, by the way.”

You have to stop yourself from saying I know.

“Sold it a bit too hard back there,” Dean grumbles, leaning against Baby with his arms folded and watching you dart out of the bar. He’s wearing an irritated scowl.

“Don’t be an ass,” you say, rolling your eyes as you open the car door and slide into the passenger seat. It’s not often that you get to ride shotgun and it feels weird - like you’ve suddenly become more important. Dean follows. “You’re the one that told me to ‘charm the pants off him’ if I remember correctly, so-”

“Yeah, charm him,” he says. “I didn’t say to fuckin’ feel him up.”

“Feel him up?” you splutter with a half-laugh as Dean pulls out of the drive. “You’re ridiculous. I put a hand on his arm. I’ve seen you do worse.”

“Yeah, whatever. You get anything outta him?”

You launch into the story and try to share all the same bits that Sam usually does. You tell him how the victims were all men in their early 20s, recently discharged from a hospital not far away. How the cops are currently questioning the hospital staff but haven’t found anything suspicious just yet. You describe all the gnarly injuries, all the pieces of evidence left behind.

“Um- I think that’s it,” you say, eyebrows furrowing together as you try to figure out whether there is anything you left out.

“That’s it?” Dean says with surprise, eyes shifting from the road to you briefly. “You were in there for damn near an hour. Thought this was about to be some fuckin’ Sherlock Holmes shit.”

“Well I couldn’t just leave straight away once he gave me the information, Dean,” you say, frowning at him. “That’s suspicious. And rude.”

He squeezes his eyes shut for a second and shakes his head. “Never mind. What hospital is it?”

You bite your lip, face flushing. “Um- I don’t know. Should I have asked?”

“Goddamnit, sweetheart-”

“I can ask!”

“Ask who?” Dean frowns.

“Jeremy. The cop from the bar. I mean, I probably can’t just call him up and ask him outright but if I tell him I want to meet up then maybe I could-”

“You exchanged numbers?”

“Well yes,” you say, watching Dean carefully. He is looking more wound up by the second. “He asked and I couldn’t really say no after talking for so long. Besides, it’s useful now because I can ask him what hospital it was.”

“Jesus Christ. I asked you to charm information out of him, not to start a fuckin’ fling-”

“Well maybe you should have waited for Sam or done it yourself!” you say, voice raising in frustration. Your lip is wobbling a little bit and it feels like barbed wire is tightening around your throat. “I’m no good at this stuff, the flirting for information. I get nervous. You know that.”

Dean takes one look glance at you out of the corner of his eye and all his exasperation slips away. He lets out a puff of breath and his body deflates with it, eyes going soft and gooey like they always do when you get upset. It makes you feel like a kid in a horrid, humiliating way, but it’s better than being on the receiving end of his frustration. Dean being annoyed at you is your own personal hell. Of course, he doesn’t know that. He doesn’t know anything about that and you’d like to keep it that way for as long as you possibly can.

“Hey now, none of that. I’m sorry, sweetheart. I’ll find out what hospital is it, don’t you worry about it.”

You nod once and turn to face out the window, still fighting the unsteady feeling in your throat and behind your eyes. Damn him - you’re so soft when it comes to Dean. No matter how much you rebel against it, no matter how many phases of denial or resistance you go through, you just can’t fight how you react to him.

He is still giving you cautious looks whenever he can pry his eyes away from the road. “C’mon, sweetheart. Y’mad at me?”

You shake your head because you don’t trust your voice to carry anything, but you still don’t look at him. He sighs and pulls in to a gas station at the side of the road. It’s one of those small, Americana-style ones you’d find on route 66. You can’t imagine he can get very much in there. He gets out without saying anything and you flinch as the car door slams shut.

You tap your fingers against the window as you wait for him and think resentfully about the fact that he, and he alone, seems to determine whether you’re going to have a good day or a bad one. One smile is enough to make you feel the sun on your skin even when the clouds are out, but his disapproval or disappointment shatters you in a way that not much else can.

It’s hard to remember a time when that wasn’t the case. You look back on your life before the Winchesters as boring - insignificant, even. It’s probably pathetic and un-feminist to admit, but it’s true. 

The before of your life seems grey. Before Sam convinced Dean to let you tag along with them because you had nowhere else to go. Before you managed to convince him that you were more than just a burden - that you could help with their jobs. Before you wormed your way into his heart, even if it’s not in the capacity that you might have wished for.

When Dean slides back into the car, he has a cherry cola and a pack of those sour green gummy worms that make your face scrunch up and your tonsils hurt. They’re your favourite.

He watches you as you take them from his hands and when you smile, so does he.

Dean finds out which hospital it is two days later. You’re not sure whether he called up Sam, who is out of commission in a motel a few towns back with the flu, or if he did some digging of his own while you were asleep. But he’s tugging on his jacket by the time you wake up in the motel bed, bleary eyed and sore from the awkward position you slept in.

“Dean?” Your voice is thick with sleep. “Where are you going?”

“I’m headin’ out to the hospital to poke around. It’s early. You go back to sleep, I’ll be quick.”

You would usually fight him on this, but your body is tired, having only recently shaken off the flu that you had so kindly passed on to Sam. You nod drowsily, a bit dizzy with sleep, and he gives you a fond, amused smile, as if you did something very funny. You watch him leave.

Your mind is too awake to drift immediately back into your stupor, and your body gradually wakes up with it. Within a few minutes, you’re too alert to even try. The red digits on the alarm clock read 7:09, and you suppose most coffee places would be open about now.

Dean has all your expensive hair products and shower gels out on the counter of the bathroom and you file that away to complain about later, even though you secretly kind of like when he uses your stuff. You like to think that he might have struck out a couple times because the woman could smell the sweet, girly scents on his skin and hair, and assumed he had a girlfriend.

The shower you take is short, only because there is a film of dirt on the shower floor that makes you feel like you might slip. Most of your clothes are in dire need of laundering so you pluck one of Dean’s plaid shirts up. You tell yourself that it’s ok because he has used something of yours too, even though you know you’re lying to yourself. This is very different. You’re wearing Dean’s shirt because some ugly, desperate part of you wants to feel close to him - wants to smell his scent on your skin. He’s explained to you why he uses your toiletries; “All that girly shit is fuckin’ luxe. Makes my skin feel like a baby’s goddamn ass”.

You check your phone for any updates from Dean before you leave the room, but you see only the same text that had been sitting there since yesterday.

JEREMY (COP FROM BAR - HOSPITAL MURDERS): I really loved meeting you last night. Let me know if you’re free any time soon. I would love to take you on a date.

You smile despite yourself as you descend the stairs of the motel, which leads directly onto the streets of the town. The guy really was sweet, but Dean’s reaction is enough to stave off any intentions to respond, even just for a ‘fling’, as he termed it. It’s hypocritical, really, that Dean has the freedom to chat up whoever he wants on a job but considers you to be ‘derailing the operation’ whenever there is the slightest hint of a connection on your end.

Ultimately, though, it’s fine. Your feeble old heart has a one-track mind and any attempts to satisfy it with some shoddy, off-brand replacement, whether for one night or more, leave you feeling sick and heartbroken. You’ve learned well enough by now that any time you try to move on, it just leaves you bereft.

It’s not even that you think that nobody can compare to Dean - not exactly. Dean is good and he’s kind and is smooth enough to make a nun blush. He’s smart, funny, loyal - the best kind of person there is. But you’ve met a lot of guys with those same qualities. It’s just Dean’s unique blend of those characteristics that you feel must have been concocted within him specifically for you.

And it’s fine that Dean flirts with other women. That he can pick up a girl as easy as others can tie their shoelaces and throw them away even easier. Because he has suffered enough and done enough good in this world to be allowed these kinds of indulgences, and you know that if he was aware of how you felt, he wouldn’t do it anymore. He would lock himself away to avoid hurting your feelings and eventually go insane with frustration and you know he would bear it for you if he thought the alternative was hurting you.

But you won’t let him. Because you love him and there aren’t many things you can do with your love. You can’t get rid of it, you can’t put it down anywhere, or give it to someone else. So you choose to love him in this strange, silent way instead. You suffer so that he doesn’t have to.

The diner you choose is straight out of one of those ‘small town America’ travel brochures. You’ve seen ones just like it in those autumnal TV comedies that you put on in the background. Sam watches them with you with mild interest, even if he pretends he dislikes them, but Dean complains about anything that isn’t chock-full with cars and guns and hot girls. It’s bright when you walk in and fairly clean, even if the red vinyl of the booths is cracking and there is a small stain on your table. A tall, pretty girl takes your order of coffee and scrambled eggs on toast and manages to bring them over to you almost immediately. The food is not great, but it’s not bad either.

“Hi there. Mind if I join you?”

Jeremy is standing in front of you, dressed in his blue uniform and hair askew. He’s smiling hesitantly, as if he’s not sure whether you’re about to tell him to get lost.

“Jeremy, hi,” you splutter, even as you do your level best to seem collected. “Of course. Please.”

He seems a lot more assured of himself as he slides into the booth in front of you, hesitant smile giving way to a charming grin. “You remember my name. That’s a good sign at least.”

You breathe an awkward laugh. “Sure I do. Wouldn’t forget. Are you on duty?”

“Nope, coming off. Just ordered some breakfast at the counter. Then I gotta head over to my niece’s seventh birthday party.”

“Ouch,” you say, wincing in an exaggerated way. “A seventh birthday party is a lot for the morning after a night shift.”

“Tell me about it. You kinda forget how loud kids are at that age.”

He uses the waitress’ name when he thanks her for bringing his order. It makes you smile.

“So you remembered my name and you’re good with me joining you, but you didn’t reply to my text,” he says with a small, teasing grin when the waitress - Justine, apparently - goes back behind the counter. “Trying to figure out what that means. Can you help me out here?”

Your face flushes with shame and mortification, your brain racing to come up with an excuse. He’s handsome and nice and not even trying to make you feel bad about the fact that you ignored him and he should be perfect for you. You should be jumping at the chance for someone like him to take you on a date.

“I’m so sorry,” you gush, real guilt pouring through. “Your text was so sweet, it was really shitty of me to not reply to you. It’s just- well, I’m only here for a couple of days and I didn’t want to waste your time.”

“Relax,” he laughs. “I wasn’t mad. Just don’t wanna be sitting here bothering you if you’re not…”

“You’re not bothering me,” you say, and it’s the truth. Jeremy smiles.

“Where do you live, if you’re not from near here?”

“I travel around a lot for work,” you say, and because you know that’s not really an answer that doesn’t raise suspicion - you add; “But technically Kansas.”

“Kansas isn’t that far from here. Just a matter of a few hours when the traffic’s light.” He’s not looking at you, cracking pepper onto his plate casually.

You’re not worth this kind of attention. Guilt, along with something much more complex and difficult to describe, gnaws low in your stomach. You know that you should be thankful that someone like him would even look twice at you, let alone suggest hours of travel to see you again after meeting you once. But your ungrateful heart can only scream that he is not Dean. Not even close.

“I’m in Kansas maybe thirty percent of the time,” you say with a regretful smile. “I really do move around a lot.”

Jeremy responds, but you don’t hear it. Because another sound has taken up your attention; something low and gravelly and something that sounds an awful lot like Dean.

Your eyes snap over to the counter where Dean has just ordered two coffees to-go. You watch in slow-motion while he looks around the diner - probably looking for a hot girl to chat up, your traitorous mind taunts you - before his gaze finds you. 

Sitting in the booth. 

With Jeremy. 

It looks so bad - it looks planned - and you can only gawp open-mouthed as Dean stomps over, looking completely murderous. Jeremy is giving you a strange look now, wondering why you have suddenly stopped responding, but there’s nothing you can say. You feel like a mouse in a trap.

“We’re going,” Dean snaps out when he makes it all the way over, placing his hand on your arm in a firm grasp. “C’mon.”

Jeremy’s eyes darken as he stands up. “Get away from her right now,” he spits. “Or we’re gonna have a real problem.”

Dean seems to remember the part he played in that little private investigation at the same time as you. The pushy creep who wouldn't take ‘no’ for an answer. His eyes flick between yourself and Jeremy for a second, before he decides it’s not worth it to blow your cover, or to get arrested on charges of sexual harassment. He scoffs for just a second and shoots you a very unimpressed glare before walking out of the diner without his coffees.

“I told you to stay here!” Dean snaps as soon as you walk in the door to your motel room again. It has been over an hour since that moment in the diner and you had been dreading this every moment since. The rest of your breakfast was pleasant, if a little awkward after that interaction. Jeremy had insisted, insisted and insisted again on dropping you back to the motel in his cruiser in a show of gentlemanliness that did more to annoy than impress you. And sure, maybe a part of you understood that you would consider the same gesture charming if it had come from Dean, but Jeremy isn’t Dean so that doesn’t matter.

“No you didn’t,” you sigh, throwing the key onto the table.

“Well, it was fuckin’ implied.”

You give him a bewildered look before collapsing down to sit on your bed and peel off your shoes. “In exactly what way was it implied?”

“When there’s a ghost going around whacking people, your natural instinct should probably be to stay the hell outta the way.”

You roll your eyes and make sure he sees you do it. “Well I’m not a male in my early twenties, so I’m not really the target here, am I?” Your mind catches up a second later. “Wait, you found out it’s a ghost?”

“Yeah, it’s a ghost,” he replies, but he really doesn't seem to want to linger on that subject right now. “That little piggy you were with might be a male in his early twenties. You don’t know, which is why you should have stayed the hell inside.”

“He’s late twenties at the very youngest and you know it,” you say. “And since when am I not allowed to go get breakfast while on a job? Come off it, Dean.”

Dean is still furious, but he seems to be scrambling to figure out how to respond. You take advantage of his momentary speechlessness. “Tell me what you got.”

He is hesitant to drop it there, but he eventually does. He still looks displeased while he walks you through what he figured out - the fact that it’s a ghost; a female from the early 1900s who was left to rot in hospital in favour of a male patient in his early 20s and subsequently died from medical neglect. She has been enacting her revenge with a host of killings every ten years around the anniversary of her death. You will be going back to the hospital after hours, when it’s a bit quieter. 

“Pretty standard job. In and out,” he shrugs, and you thought he might distract himself with the details and have gotten over the whole diner incident by the time he finished telling you about it, but he’s still not looking at you. It sends a bolt of hurt through you but you shake it off.

“Right, in and out,” you agree.

The job is simple. In and out, just like he said. You distract the receptionist by asking after a grandmother that doesn’t exist while Dean chases the leads he had found earlier. He finds the bones within thirty minutes and burns them. He’s a bit banged up by the time he makes it back to where you’re waiting in reception, clothes askew and hair mussed up with a cut or two spilling blood through his shirt, but he won’t tell you what happened except that he ‘Sorted it.’ The receptionist gives you a skeptical look when you walk out with him, but she doesn’t say anything else. 

You feel exceptionally useless when you climb back into Baby. The power rush you had from riding shotgun has evaporated.

“I can’t believe you made me be the distraction again,” you mutter, scuffing your shoes against the car floor just to piss him off.

“Someone’s gotta to do it,” is all he says back. He still won’t look at you, not even to give you evils for the way you’re treating Baby. Hasn’t looked at you properly since this morning in the motel. It hurt before and it still does, but now you’re just fed up more than anything. There’s only so much awkward silence you can take. 

“Dean, will you- Goddamnit, can you look at me?” 

He takes a second, fingers flexing around the wheel as he pulls out of the carpark. His lips flatten into a thin line, before he looks at you for a brief second, raising his eyebrows as if to say; ‘There. Happy?’

But you’re not.

“What the hell is wrong with you? I don’t know what the big deal is. You can pretend all you want that this is about me going to get a breakfast, but it’s not is it? You just didn’t like that I was with Jeremy.”

Dean wasn’t expecting that. All exasperated sarcasm melts from his face as he steals an astonished glance at you, eyes alarmed and mouth somewhat ajar. “I don’t know what you’re-”

“You don’t want me getting distracted on a job.”

At that, he seems to relax, slipping back into the same easy grouchiness as before and you wonder what it was he thought you were getting at. “Yeah, that’s it,” he mutters lowly.

“You’re such a hypocrite,” you sigh. “How come you can do whatever you want but I can’t?”

You surprise yourself as much as you surprise him by bringing this up. That’s a subject you always stay well away from - Dean and girls. You look away and pretend not to hear when Sam teases him after he stumbles into the motel room the day after a job ends. You’ve smelt all kinds of perfume on him - sweet, spicy, cheap expensive and say nothing. You excuse yourself to go to the bathroom so you can stop yourself from retching when he approaches some random table in a bar and shoots a suave smile to someone who isn’t you. But it’s spilling out of you now; not because you can’t hold it in anymore (because you can and you will until the end of time), but because it’s simply not fair. You couldn't move on if you tried, you know this, but who is he to tell you whether or not you can try?

“Because, sweetheart, it’s different,” he says, and the word ‘sweetheart’ is uttered almost sarcastically, in a way you had never heard before. You had always been his only sweetheart - one of the only things he could give you and you alone, but it was always said with a sort of gentle veneration - never like this. It feels tainted now. No longer yours.

“How is it different, Dean?” You’re trying to keep that damned barbed wire from closing in on your throat again. Trying, for once, to not be the baby that cries too easily and loves too easily and gives herself away to him for nothing in return.

“Because those girls don’t mean anything. They’re not distractions,” he explains, voice thick and low. “But you can’t have someone who doesn’t mean anything. You carry on with that asshole and you’ll end up in some fuckin’ picket fence house with a wraparound porch.”

He’s halfway there. He’s right, of course. You couldn’t just have an indistinct someone who doesn’t mean anything. You could never let them warm your bed without making yourself feel ill and blue - you had tried it before and it didn’t work out well. 

But he really doesn’t understand that you could go on a hundred dates with Jeremy or with anyone else and you still wouldn't end up anywhere but right here. Following Dean around like a slobbering puppy. Because your sick, stubborn heart decided what it wanted years ago and has not forgotten.

Dean must mistake your silence for something else, because he watches you wearily, frustration falling away from his face and giving way to a panicked sort of concern. “Unless that’s…” he coughs nervously. “Unless that’s what you want.”

“That’s not what I want,” you confirm glibly. You don’t mention that it could be what you want, if he decided that it was what he wanted too. It’s your turn to avoid his eyes now. You watch the rain stream down the car window.

“C’mon, I’m tired of fightin’ with y’, sweetheart,” he says and the designation of ‘sweetheart’ is once again yours to claim. He is speaking to you sweetly, coaxing you out of your corner. But tears are springing to your eyes so you keep them trained away from him.

It’s mostly for his benefit, that you hide this from him. It’s not his fault that your world is moved by his hands alone. It’s not his fault that all his attempts to take care of you have worked so well that they backfired and hurt you.

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t’ve-” he sighs and you can hear him running his hand through his hair, even though you can’t see it. You can smell a burst of your shampoo when he does it. “I don’t know how to… Did I upset you?”

You don’t say anything for a moment, and he seems ready to speak again. 

“I don’t want the… picket fence and porch,” you say, tracing raindrops with your fingers. There’s a wobble in your voice. “But it would be nice to just have someone, maybe.”

That ‘someone’ is Dean, obviously. But you can still dream of someday breaking free of these feelings - finding someone else. You won’t feel a fraction of this intensity for them but that would be ok, that would be alright. And they wouldn’t look at you the way Dean does and they wouldn’t be able to make you laugh like he can but you would learn to live with that, maybe even learn to numb your feelings for Dean from this fire into a dull ache.

Because what good is your love for Dean when you’ve had to debase it so many times? You’ve tried to bastardise it - to turn it platonic, to turn it familial, even to get rid of it altogether and none of it ever works. It returns to you, defiled and wounded but no weaker, every single time.

“You could have me.”

Even the tears in your eyes can’t stop you from looking over at Dean now. You’re searching for any sign that he might be making some sort of joke, but you can’t find it. His eyes are trained firmly on the road, a worried pinch between his brows. You almost feel like you imagined it.

“I… What?”

“If you wanted to have someone. You could have me.”

Your breath feels stuck in your lungs. Dean has no idea what he’s saying; how unintentional cruel he is being to you. You have no idea whether he means as a friend or as a warm body to satisfy some part of your longing. You don’t want to think too long about whether he means the latter - because you’re deathly afraid that you are weak enough to accept his offer and then the whole thing really will fall apart.

“I didn’t mean it in that way. I meant-”

“I know what you meant. I want to be that. For you.”

He is speaking so uncharacteristically soft. It’s not the same soft that he offers you when you’re scared or upset, the confident arm around your shoulder while he coos and comforts. This is another kind of soft. He always looks tired, but right now he looks exhausted. You’ve only seen him look this vulnerable a handful of times and you feel a strange discomfort when you realise each time has been when he was speaking about his dad.

You are soaking in his words as he puts the car in park outside the motel. Crickets croak to fill the silence between you. He is sneaking glances and you know him well enough to know that he is trying to get a read on you.

“Why?” you land on eventually.

He frowns. “The hell do you mean why?”

“Why are you offering to-? You don’t need to feel sorry for me, or whatever-”

Dean laughs, more angry than amused. “You really think I’d tell you I want to be with you because I feel sorry for you? I’m fuckin’…” Dean sighs, face twitching with discomfort and awkwardness. “I think if you just gave it a chance, I could maybe be the someone you’re talkin’ about. Maybe.”

Your face flushes with heat and your brain feels like the scrambled eggs you had for breakfast. Your mind is racing to make sense of what you’re hearing - he could ‘maybe be your someone’? “What…”

Dean shuts down, as if a sudden door slams over that vulnerability he had shown you just a minute ago. “Y’know what, forget it-”

“No!”

He pauses, his hand going still on the car door. Your thoughts aren’t making sense at this point but you’re desperate to say something - anything - that might stop him from leaving.

“I want to-” you stutter, clumsy as a baby goat. “I want you to be my maybe-someone too, but I want to know for sure that you… I don’t know how to talk about this, but please don’t leave.”

Dean is skittish when he looks back over to you. You see a flicker of something masked by a cloud of doubt. Slowly, he reaches his hand out for yours. You clutch it with urgency, holding it tight against your own. His hands feel big and rough against your skin. Your thumb glides along all the little ridges and bumps and callouses; the results of the dirty work he never lets you do. He looks as if he is almost afraid you’ll bite when he reaches the other hand out, hesitantly moving up to your face, and his throat bobs a little bit when you lean in to his touch. His pretty green eyes are watching you carefully while his thumb works its way slowly along your cheekbone and you wonder for the briefest of seconds if this is another one of your dreams.

But the next second he’s kissing you and you know it can’t be a dream. Because even in your dreams, you don’t allow yourself to imagine it would be like this to kiss Dean. In your dreams, his kisses are hot and rough, the same way you had seen him dole them out to an endless carousel of girls in dark corners of bars, while you and Sam play solitaire and try to ignore what’s happening in your eye-line.

Dean’s lips are warm and unsure, like he doesn’t know whether he is really allowed to do this. You melt into him slowly, because you had thought about this moment too often for you to freeze up when it is finally happening. He takes your bottom lip into his mouth, pulling you up against him, and chokes a broken sigh into your mouth, as if he was the one who had been waiting on this for years. As if he was the one who had to suffer all this longing, had to wield his love carefully so it wouldn’t pour out of him like water from a faucet.

You have gone astray in the feeling of his lips, of his large hands gripping your waist with such painstaking gentleness. Your heart is aching in your chest and you know it’s lost to him forever when he runs a careful hand through your hair, holding you with the same tenderness that he treats you with in all regards.

You’re not even thinking when you press yourself closer to him, clasping your hands around his shoulders and pushing your chest to his urgently. Your need for him - to just be close to him - is growing rapidly inside you like a fire. You shake a bit as Dean kisses you harder, mouth moving against yours, hot and messy.

Gone is the sweet gentleness from just a moment ago, but this is still not quite how you have seen Dean kiss strangers in bars. He’s holding you a bit tighter, kissing you with a bit more exigency. Maybe it’s wishful thinking, but you’re sure you had never seen him kiss anyone like this. Heat is pooling low in your stomach and you’re squirming, legs twitching as you try to get closer to him. Eventually Dean grunts, the sound sending sparks in your stomach and between your thighs. He splays a hand over your thigh and shifts it over his own. In this position, you become aware of how hard he is. You can feel it even through the layer of jeans and it makes you gasp.

“Dean,” you breathe, struggling for air. He’s undeterred. One hand moves to gently caress the side of your neck as his mouth moves to kiss you there, soft but insistent.

“Hm?” he hums against your neck. You feel its vibration.

Your brain is failing you. The need for him is catapulting you off the edge of sanity and all your focus is garnered towards that bulge below you. You press down without even meaning to and Dean groans at the contact.

“Hey now, slow down, sweetheart,” he says, pulling away from your neck and looking up at you with half-lidded, blown-out eyes. You make a noise that you don’t even hear. You think it’s a protestation. 

“F’you think I’m gonna take you in the front seat of Baby out in some scabby parking lot for our first time, you’re crazy,” he says, thumb reaching up to pull at your bottom lip. 

Your heart soars. First time.

“What, you think that mangy motel room is better?”

Dean laughs. “Maybe not. But ‘least there I can lay you out all pretty. Take my time with you like I always pictured.”

His words go straight to your abdomen in a strange, pleasant mix of love and desire. You clamber off his lap in record speed.

You frown. “Are you sure?”

“Am I - fuck - what the hell are you talkin’ about right now?”

Dean is sitting up against the headboard of the bed. His gaze is dark and unfocused, sweat dripping down his brow and on to his naked chest.

“Are you sure that you want to be my maybe-someone?”

He gives you a strange look, eyes squinting and corners of his mouth poking up in that Dean-is-very-bewildered way. “Huh?”

“I just want to make sure that you’re sure, because I don’t think I’ll be able to- Oh…”

Your mind trails off the subject as Dean uses his grip on your waist to thrust his hips up just a bit, hitting that sweet spot you had just recently (tonight) discovered. His cock is deep inside you, stretching you out in a way that is almost enough to make you want to drop the subject. If you cared about him any less, you probably would.

“I don’t wanna be your maybe-someone, sweetheart. I wanna be your someone. I love you.”

That brings you back. Your heart thuds painfully in your chest, and you have the odd compulsion to cry. Your body is experiencing a lot right now. “You love me?” The barbed wire is tightening again, but this time in a good way. That steamy grin Dean had been wearing crumbles into something softer. He nods.

“But what about the girls?”

“What girls?”

You flush. “Y’know. The girls you… in all the bars…”

His hands palm your hips with a bruising grip, flexing there as he bounces you on him experimentally, like he’s trying to get you to forget that any girls ever existed. Your cunt clenches tight around him, entire body buzzing, and black spots dance behind your eyes, but you sit still because you have really fucking great self-control. 

“Shit, baby,” he groans, head rolling back. “I don’t wanna talk about any damn girl except you right now.”

“Dean.”

His face scrunches up in exasperation as he fights to keep his eyes on yours. They keep travelling down to your tits. “I wasn’t lying when I said they didn’t mean anything, sweetheart,” he says, dropping down to press kisses to your neck. Your eyes flutter shut and you unintentionally grind down at the wonderful tingly feeling it gives you. Dean grunts. 

“Tried to go on as normal for a while. Thought I could get over you, ‘cause I didn’t wanna burden you with my shit. Didn’t work. Just ended up with a loada pissed off girls who kicked me out after I said the wrong name. That’s it.”

You barely notice that you had begun to grind down on him again until Dean wraps his lips around one of your nipples and you let out a desperate moan. His right hand moves down, feather-light, to stroke up and down your thigh.

“How- how long?”

“Dunno. Kinda sleep-walked into it,” he says, gasping between sentences as you leisurely ride him. “Think I realised when we were at Bobby’s house that one time and I heard you bangin’ around in your room for at least twenty minutes. Walked in and saw you wrapped up in that bedsheet like a ghost ‘cause you couldn't get it on and wouldn’t ask anyone for help. ’S stupid but it made me laugh so damn hard.”

He laughs shakily as he remembers it. You try to recall, but the angle he’s hitting inside you is turning any thought into a tough feat. “I don’t remember that. Must have been years ago.”

He just nods and leans up to kiss you, pretty and desperate. You pull away, even if you would much rather not. 

“You’ve loved me for years?”

“Probably longer than that too, sweetheart. Everyone else seemed to figure it out before I did. Everyone except you.”

He’s trying to distract you again with his lips on your neck, but your brain is working too fast now.

“Everyone- Dean, does Sam know?”

He grunts and you can feel it rip through his chest under your fingertips. When he looks up at you, his pretty green eyes have gone a shade darker.

“Please don’t say another man’s name while I’m fuckin’ you ever again, sweetheart,” he damn-near growls. “ ‘Specially not my brother’s.”

You’re being flipped over then, your skull narrowly avoiding the headboard, until you’re under him, knees pressed up and he’s sliding into you at his pace this time.

“But yes. Everyone means everyone.”

He rolls his hips into yours and you can’t stop the breathy moan that escapes at how he feels inside you. He’s so deep and you’ve never been this full before, but there’s no pain to it because it’s Dean and he had made sure you were ready for him - of course he did. He had played with your pussy; rubbed it and fingered it and licked it in ways you didn’t even know were possible before sliding into you with a slow, loving reverence that made your legs tremble and your heart quake. He’d eased in slowly, despite you whining that you wanted to take him all the way. Dean has always taken care of you and he always will, especially now.

“And since you clearly can’t be trusted on top yet,” he says, punctuating his point with a brutal thrust that has you gasping and clenching around him. “I’m just gonna have to fuck all those thoughts outta your clever little head. Maybe then I’ll let you get back on top. When you can’t treat this like a job we’re workin’ on and all you can think about is me and how good I’m fuckin’ you.”

God, his voice is travelling right through your body and you still can’t quite believe that this is really happening. Your hips jerk up to meet his thrust as he turns you to ruins below him. You’re still fighting to hold on to your line of questioning, but he’s making it so hard.

“Dean, I- oh-”

His hand goes down to find your clit, gives it a rub with his thumb without losing any of his rhythm.Your eyes squeeze shut and your body moves against his as if your mind doesn’t have any say or involvement in the matter. 

“That’s it, let me fuck you stupid. Forget about everything else. I’ll sort you right out, baby.”

It shouldn’t be possible for him to fuck you like this. One hand still under your knee and the other playing with your clit, still maintaining a bruising rhythm that sends stars to your eyes. 

It’s not fair. 

Because for as many times as you had pictured being fucked by Dean, as much as you had known that nobody else could compare, you still had no concept of just how good the real thing could be. How thoroughly it would destroy you for anyone else.

“So pretty and dumb when I’m splitting you open like this,” he whispers, fucking himself so deep in that you can feel the tip pushing against your cervix. “Can’t believe you’re letting me have you like this. Knew you’d feel this good, sweetheart. Thought about you like this every goddamn day.”

You have already come twice. Once on his fingers, once on his tongue. And now he’s about to make you come with his cock. You love every woman he has ever been with for showing him exactly the ways to touch you in order to make pleasure flash in every nerve, and you hate them for ever having him like this before you did. But it doesn’t matter now, because Dean seems as far gone as you and his face makes you think that maybe he’s destroyed for anyone else too.

The noises you’re making are barely coherent - something about how good it feels, how deep he is inside you - but they make Dean smile at you, sly and patronising as his tip keeps hitting that spongy spot inside you.

“Yeah, baby?” he coos at you, and all you can do is nod, even if you’re not sure what exactly he’s asking you. “Doin’ so good. Tight pussy’s suckin’ me in.”

Your eyes flutter, fighting the instinct to close only because you want to keep watching Dean - you don’t want to miss a second of how sweet and wrecked he looks above you. He’s got the control now, but you can tell he’s close to losing it by the way his eyebrows furrow just a little and his face goes unfocused. His drooping eyes travel around your body quickly, shooting from your face to your tits to where you’re being split open by him, like he can’t decide where to look.

“Please, Dean. Need more,” you whine, just centimetres from coming. You’re not even sure you could take more at this point, but you want to see what he’ll do.

“Nuh-uh, sweetheart,” he says, even as he slams his hips into yours harder. Your eyes roll back. “Takin’ you nice and sweet right now. Gonna make you come apart real pretty for me. Enjoy it ‘cause next time I’m not gonna be this nice.”

Your brain stutters at the thought that this is him being nice. This feels utterly filthy to you.

There’s an overwhelming pit of pleasure in the bottom of your stomach and it seeps low into your pussy. You twitch once, clenching down on him, and with one more brutal thrust you’re falling over the edge, grinding right down on him. You’re spewing out words incoherently, babbling in tongues. One thing that is coherent, though - one thing that is entirely unmistakable - is how you gasp out; “I love you” in a broken moan.

You hadn’t really noticed that you hadn’t said it back when Dean first admitted it. It had felt obvious to you, like a fact of life. The sky is blue, the grass is green and you love Dean Winchester. You didn’t really think about the fact that he didn’t know.

But you think about it now. When Dean’s half-lidded eyes suddenly shoot open and he’s marvelling at you with such open awe that it makes you feel like maybe you’re something sacred to him too. His face crumbles and he seems to lose control while you’re still riding your high, spilling so deep inside you that you can feel his warmth in your tummy.

Once he’s spent, he slows his hips down and thrusts shallowly while you twitch and jerk around him, his body folding over your own in a way that makes you feel wholly and completely surrounded by him. You feel lax and satisfied as you had never been before.

“You mean it?” he asks against your neck, lips pressing a small kiss there. You know that that kiss means; it’s ok if you don’t.

You shudder out a breathless laugh and your chest moves against his because of how closely your warm bodies are pressed together. 

“You really don’t understand. I’m crazy in love with you, Dean.”

His head lifts up and he searches your eyes with the same expression he uses to investigate a haunted house or look for evidence in some abandoned warehouse. “Since when?”

“Since forever,” you say, heat flooding your face. “Even when I was just some dumb kid you didn’t want tagging along with you and Sammy.”

He goes soft. He melts to a puddle and wraps himself around you even tighter, hand going to your face while he presses a hot, gentle kiss to your lips. “My girl,” he murmurs against your lips.

“You girl?” you repeat, pulling back even though you still feel like you’re floating. “Are you sure? I know you don’t really-”

Dean groans. “Sweetheart. You gonna make me fuck all those doubts outta your head again?”

You smile. “Maybe later.”

Tensions were already high enough with a year of repetitive crawls and nothing to show for it. Everyone was on edge, as evidenced by your hands tapping the radio buttons rhythmically. Checking the signal every few seconds. 

It also showed by Steve downing a box of boppers in one sitting, the obnoxious chewing making your eyes roll in the back of your head. They made the van smell like peanut butter, getting crumbs all over the seats and the shag carpet you’d inevitably have to vacuum up. 

“You think he’d pull out by now,” Steve mumbled, mouth full of peanut butter yet again. You cringed, glaring at him from your seat in the back. “It’s been too long.” 

“Maybe he found something.” You shrugged, clicking the walkie to base camp, asking if they heard any updates. To which Robin responded, “If there were an update, we’d tell you, my friend. Please don’t kill Steve. Over” 

“If he gets crumbs anymore all over this van, consider him dead. Over.” You responded, tossing the walkie down, admittedly more aggressively than you needed to. 

This made Steve turn in his seat, squinting at you. “What did I do?” 

“Nothing, nothing!” Your voice went up in pitch, throwing your hands up. “That’s the problem. We’re just sitting here in silence while you scarf down those disgusting things.” 

“Now, Y/n, what did Boppers ever do to you?” He asked, a teasing tilt in his tone. 

“Besides, make the van reek? And get crumbs everywhere?” You knew you were misplacing anger on the boppers, but you didn’t care. You hated the rift that you put between you two, but you were physically incapable of making it worse. 

“Sounds like someone is just wound up.” He grumbled, tossing his final wrapper in the box. Making a show of properly disposing of it, to which you rolled your eyes. 

“I’m not wound up. I’m bored, annoyed, tired.” You sighed, body going limp in the chair. 

“Yeah, sure,” He said, his eyes still on yours, “Well, I don’t know how to help. You’re the one who’s been distancing themselves from me for the past week. Maybe I’d talk if I wasn’t afraid you’d bite my head off.” 

You spluttered, “Ignoring you? You’re the one who’s been too busy with this weird dick measuring contest with Jonathan. The only reason I’m here is that the two of you got into it last week, again.” 

“Dick measuring contest. He’s a dickhead,” He grumbled, stopping himself from continuing, “You know what, whatever. That doesn’t explain why you’ve been brushing me off. Between you and Dustin, I don’t know what everyone's problem is lately.” 

You felt your cheeks flush with anger, glaring at the man. “Have you ever considered you’re the problem? If you got your head out of Nancy’s ass-” 

“Whoa, where is this hostility coming from?” He gawked, throwing his hands up in faux surrender. 

“If you were paying attention, you would’ve realized it’s been there.” You grumbled, “You’ve been too busy chasing tail.” 

“Oh my god, chasing tail? What are you, my father?” He laughed, fumbling around for the van keys. 

Steve turned the keys in the ignition, the sputtering of the engine making your heart fall in the pit of your stomach. “Steve-” 

“Don’t. Just don’t.” He seethed, turning over the key multiple times to no avail. This wasn’t the first, second, or third time this van had stalled out. It needed a new battery, but Murray had been unable to find one for the past few weeks. 

“God damnnit.” He snapped, throwing the keys at the dashboard. His hands were running through his hair aggressively, a nervous habit of his. “We’re gonna have to wait until someone can give us a jump.”

You grabbed the walkie, letting everyone know of your current predicament, praying the signal stayed strong for the time being. 

“Now who’s the wound-up one?” You mumbled under your breath, putting your head in your hands while Steve stepped out, ready to flag down the next car that drove by. And as luck would have it, of course, it was some pretty girl Steve knew from school. You didn’t even have to crack the window to know he was sweet-talking her desperately. 

Unable to keep still, you crawled into the front seat, watching the girl twirl her hair nervously, blushing each time Steve opened his mouth. That pit was in your stomach again, unable to watch her place her perfectly manicured hand on his bicep. You waited just long enough for the van to charge up and slammed down on the horn, making the pair jump apart. Looking away when Steve’s eyes met yours in the windshield, simply heading to the back. 

A few minutes later, he started the van up, slamming the door shut aggressively. “What was that for?”

All you could do was laugh dryly, “How would Nancy feel about you flirting with random girls in the middle of the night?” 

“Why do you keep bringing her up?” He asked, turned around in his seat once again, giving you the death glare. You didn’t know how the two of you got here, but you couldn’t stop it. Your heart was breaking open, pouring out with everything unspoken. “You’ve brought up Nancy more than I have. It’s Nancy, Nancy. Nancy wouldn’t care what I was doing. Even if I was flirting, which I wasn’t by the way. We’re just friends!” 

“I know you’re just friends because she’s dating Jonathan!” You threw your hands up, “That’s not stopping you from pining over her.” 

“Pining?” 

“Running up the radio tower, jumping to her aid whenever she needs something, that longing look in your eyes when you’re staring at her-” 

“Longing looks?” He cut you off, deadpan. “If any of that was true, big if. Have you ever considered I’m not doing it for Nancy, but for someone else?” 

You scoffed, “What are you trying to turn Robin straight?” 

The look he gave you was exasperated, his eyes closing. He took a deep breath, steadying his emotions. Realizing you weren’t gonna get it, you were never gonna get it with how wound up you were over this. Your petty emotions were clouding all of your rational thinking. 

“Who was standing next to Nancy when we ran up the tower?” Steve asked, his voice level now. His gaze was steady on yours. You felt heavy under his eyes, nervously rubbing your palms on your jeans. 

“I mean I w-was, but I don’t understand why that matters.” 

He nodded patiently, “Yeah. And who’s by Nancy’s side a good majority of the time?” 

And suddenly you felt like the most naive person in the world. All the times Nancy would be whispering in Steve’s ear, she would look at you with a pointed glance while his cheeks flushed. All the times he rushed towards you first, and Nancy second. You didn’t even register this, too focused on the green dragon of envy in your stomach when you watched him also look over her. It wasn’t rational. 

“I mean to be technical, it's both Robin and me, but I guess mostly me, yeah. Robin can’t use a gun.” You whispered, the words barely forcing themselves out of your lips. Thinking of the sheer number of times you and Nancy were paired together. 

“Yeah,” He hummed, sliding out of the driver's seat, stalking to the back of the van, “And have you considered you’re too busy focused on the narrative you made up in your head that you can’t see what’s actually happening? You’re always trapped inside that pretty head of yours.” 

His hand came up, tapping your temple lightly. You swatted him away, his hand catching your wrist. His fingers engulf the skin, keeping a soft hold on you. Your entire body was on fire as he towered over you. 

“What is actually happening?” You asked, your breath hitching when he leaned down to your height. 

“Been looking at you, pretty girl.” He said like it was the simplest thing in the world. “It’s always been you.” 

You shook your head, “No way.” You scoffed, trying to pry your hand from his grip. Unsure of what sick game he was playing with you. “You’re always whispering things to her.” 

“And I do the same to Robin, but that doesn’t upset you, does it?” His grip held steady on your arm, bringing it up to his lips. Pressing a soft kiss on the inside of your wrist. 

“You’ve never been in love with Robin.” You pointed out. “This just doesn't make any sense.” You knew you were clinging to your anger to avoid bearing your feelings to him, trying to save yourself the embarrassment of being the only one who somehow didn’t know this was happening. 

“What doesn’t make any sense?” 

“You, looking at me. Like that.” 

“I think it makes all the sense in the world. Don’t know why it took me so long. S’always been you.” His eyes were shining, looking down at you with amusement. 

“What’s funny?” You scowled. 

“Nothing,” He chuckled, hand cupping your face gently. “I’ve just never seen someone so angry at a love confession before.” 

“I’m not angry.” You lied, not even registering his last words. “W-wait, love?” 

“Uh, yeah. I’m in love with you. Have been for a while now, you’re like the last person to know somehow.” 

“In love with me?” You repeated, your brain unable to process. 

“Yes. I mean, this wasn’t the ideal way, time, or place to tell you, but someone’s too wound up to acknowledge her own feelings.” 

This was the irritating, breathtaking Steve Harrington you knew. “I’m not wound up, I don’t know why you keep saying that.” 

“Baby.” The nickname fell off his lips as if he’d been wanting to say it for months. “You haven’t actually acknowledged anything I’ve said. You just wanna argue.” 

You kept quiet, unable to find a response that wasn’t argumentative. You hated that he knew you so well; you hated that you loved him more than anything. You loved him more than words themselves, and none of the words came out. Your mouth opening and closing, nothing but shaky breaths escaping. 

“It’s okay. We just need to unwind you a little, then we can talk, yeah?” He smirked, bringing his face closer to yours. “This okay?” 

He barely got the words out before you sat up, pressing your lips to his. Being able to show him your love while words failed you. 

His lips against yours felt like coming home after a long day, a breath of fresh air after holding your breath for hours. It was everything you had dreamt it would be and more. The two of you fit together like missing puzzle pieces. His hands gripped your face as if you’d slip away, his tongue trying to memorize every inch of your mouth. Your hands found his shoulders, gripping the corduroy as if your life depended on it, because it felt like it did. 

Your hands were moving down his arms, ready to push him back onto the floor, before the crackle of a walkie interrupted you two. 

“Did you guys get the van started again. Over?” Robin's voice echoed through the van. Every time you tried to pull away, Steve whined like a child, keeping his lips slotted against yours. Refusing to let you go from his hold. “She’s gonna start freaking out.” 

He groaned, leaning away from you. A string of spit connected between the two of your mouths. The sight of it had you squeezing your thighs together, pushing him back on the floor while you fumbled for the walkie. 

“Is everything okay? I’m freaking out a little-”

“Robin,” You sighed, “We just got a jump, sorry. Is everything okay? The signal is still strong. Over.” 

“Thank god, yes. Hopper said he’ll be another 45 minutes. He’s chasing a lead. Sorry to keep you there. We’ll buzz when he’s topside. Over.” 

You took a glance at Steve, who was sitting down with his legs wide. He propped himself up on his hands. His cheeks were flushed, lips glistening from your own mouth. His hair was ruffled, and the unmistakable bulge in his jeans was prominent. He looked beyond your wildest wet dreams. 

“I-” You started, cutting yourself off with a cough. Your body was still buzzing from earlier. 

“Yeah?” He mocked, a devilish grin on his handsome face. 

“You’re an asshole,” You sighed, “An asshole I’m helplessly in love with.” 

If he smiled anymore, his cheeks were sure to ache. “There you go. That wasn’t so hard to say, was it?” 

“Like I said. Asshole.” 

“As I said,” He smirked. “You’re wound up. And it looks like I have 43 minutes and counting to unwind you.” 

Your stomach dipped, staring at him like he was insane. “Here?” 

“Why not?” He shrugged. 

“You’re ridiculous.” You smiled, all while dropping to your knees, crawling onto his lap. His hands found your waist, his lips chasing yours instantly. Now that he’s gotten a taste of you, he’ll never be able to go without. 

Teeth gnashed together while you settled onto his lap, grinding against him as both of your hands frantically searched each other’s bodies. Your hands had already shrugged his jacket to the floor, your hands were underneath your shirt, cupping your chest through the thin fabric of your bra. 

“You taste like bopper.”You sighed, pulling away to toss your shirt over your head. 

 “And you taste like cigarettes you’ve been smoking behind my back. Did I really stress you out that much, sweet girl?” 

“Maybe it was more or so me stressing myself out.” You admitted, leaning forward to tug his shirt off. Letting your hand roam his chest, his chest hair brushing through your fingers. “There’s no way Nancy Wheeler ever deserved this.” 

“Hey,” He took your face in his hands again, “I’m yours. And you’re mine.” He could see the insecurity in your face, feel it rolling off of you in waves. “Let me show you.” 

He nudged your body to the floor, bunching up his jacket as a makeshift pillow for you. He hovered on top of you, lips attaching to your neck, kissing and sucking harshly at the skin. You let out a yelp at a particularly harsh bite, no doubt leaving a mark. 

“Steve-” 

“Love when you say my name.” He pulled the fabric of your bra aside, lips attaching to your nipple. His tongue expertly flicks the hardened bud. Pulling out a slew of pathetic moans and whimpers for him.

His hands fumbled around with the button of your pants, hands dipping inside your underwear in a way that made you forget your own name. His fingers found your clit easily, swiping up your slit in one slow movement. “Oh, baby, you’re dripping for me.” 

“Off.” That was all you could mumble, lifting your hips just enough for the fabric to slide down your legs. Your underwear joined the strew of clothes decorating the back. 

The two of you were moving in a rhythm that felt practiced, love and desperation driving the two of you to madness. His lips against yours were maddening; you knew Steve Harrington would be good at this. Experiencing it was otherworldly; he was sin incarnate. 

“Gonna make you feel so good.” He mumbled against your skin, his fingers finding your soaked heat once again. Rubbing experimental circles on your clit. Any other time, you’d feel shy at how exposed you were to him, but he looked at you as if every moment he wasn’t touching you was torture. 

“Fuck.” You hissed, hips arching at his gentle movements. He took a few minutes warming you up with kisses and the tips of his fingertips, making you see stars. You mindlessly reached for his waistband, attempting to tug them off. “Steve, please-” 

“Slow down.” He hummed, two of his fingers moving down your slit to prod at your entrance. He knew you weren’t thinking right, too strung out on lust to worry about prep. Too busy salivating at the thought of his cock deep inside you. But if it had been over a year for him, it’d been even longer for you. “We have all the time in the world.” 

“Technically like 30 minutes-holy shit.” His fingers slid into you with little resistance, your eyes rolling back. Hitting places that had long been neglected. Your own fingers paled in comparison to his.

“Relax.” He spoke again, watching your face like he was studying for a test. Moving his fingers until he hit a spot that had your jaw lax, smirking softly to himself. “Right there? That’s the spot, huh, baby?” 

You nodded, your mouth gaping open. Unable to speak in complete sentences. You melted into his touch, the lewd sounds of your squelching cunt making his cock grow harder in his pants. 

“Steve, Steve-” Your eyes shot open, looking to see where his eyes were focused on you, greedily sucking his fingers in. “I’m so close.” 

“I know. Wanna feel you cum for me. Come on.” He cooed, his palm brushing against your clit with each deep stroke of his fingers. Your legs instinctively slammed closed when your high approached, Steve forcing them open. “Take it, baby. Yeah, yeah, there you go.” 

You spasmed around him, back arching against him as you came around his fingers. It took your breath away, falling back down on the floor with a soft thud while he talked you through it. His hands rubbed your legs gently, pressing soft kisses to your sweatlined skin. 

“Holy shit, Harrington.” You croaked, eyes fluttering to him. A shit-eating grin on his face. 

“You’re so fucking hot.” He leaned up, your body missing him when his fingers slipped from you. Your cunt was already clenching around nothing, anticipating what Steve was packing in his too-tight jeans. 

“Your turn.” Your teeth bit down on your lower lip, reaching down to palm him through the fabric. He hissed, standing up to pop open his jeans. You always knew Steve had to be packing something down there; no one with his kind of ego would set himself up for failure like that. You had no idea how big until his underwear slid off his legs, his massive cock springing up, slapping his pelvic bone. 

“Oh my god.” You panted, basically drooling at the sight of him. His happy trail led down to his hairy cock. His thick red tip pulsing in the cool air, bulging veins running up his length.

“Like what you see?” He tried to speak cockily, only you were able to detect the small hint of shyness in his words. 

“Like?” Your mouth was full of drool, desperate to get your mouth on him. You sat up on your knees, hands reaching out for him. “Fuck Steve. Where have you been hiding this?” 

“You’re just feeding my ego, Y/n- oh my god.” His knees nearly gave out when you pulled his tip into your mouth. Sucking softly while your hand wrapped around his length, barely fitting. You pumped him into your mouth, slowly taking in each agonizing inch. He was heavy in your mouth, his eyes watching you in amazement. 

“Look so good with my cock in your mouth. Made for you.” He spoke, voice deepened with desire. You moaned around him, his balls tightening at the sensation. You bobbed your head slowly, spit dribbling with each movement. You were barely able to gain momentum before his hand fell on your head, prying you off slowly. 

“B-baby, I can’t. Gonna cum and I don’t wanna cum in your mouth,” He whimpered, “Well, at least not today.” He added with a smirk. You released him with a pop, letting him crawl back to the floor. Pushing you back on your makeshift pillow, settling his body between your hips. The weight of him against you made your heart swell, pulling him in for a messy kiss. You kissed him until neither of you could take it any longer, his cock twitching against your inner thigh. 

“Are you okay?” He panted, arm propping itself against the side of your head. 

“Better than okay.” You breathed out.

“Do you feel unwound?” He teased, his other hand gripping his cock. Teasing your clit with his tip, smearing around your arousal. 

“No, I feel like I could use a little more.” You grinned with teeth. 

“Just a little?” He mocked, his mushroom tip catching at your entrance. “Seems like she’s already mouthing for me.” 

He wanted to tease; it was how the two of you thrived, but he couldn’t deprive himself a minute longer. He sank himself in slowly, his arms going shaky when your warm heat wrapped around him. He went slow, letting you sink your nails into his shoulder blades while you adjusted to him. When he finally bottomed out, you hissed into his mouth, biting down on his bottom lip gently. 

“You’re so tight, baby.” He mumbled against your lips. 

“Because your cock is huge.” You whined. “Been so long.” 

“None of those little boys you fucked were as big as me, huh?” He peacocked, “I know they weren’t. Your pussy has never been this stuffed before, has she?” 

“Your e-ego is showing.” You moaned, the rough patch of his pubic hair rubbing deliciously against you. 

“But I’m not wrong.” He shifted his hips just slightly to adjust his footing, the head of his cock hitting the spongy spot he found earlier. You let out a guttural moan of his name, Steve’s smile widening. 

“Not wrong. You’re so big. Biggest cock I’ve ever seen. Please, please move.” You babbled, clenching around him so tightly he hissed as he pulled out, slamming himself back inside. Your arms were pulling him as close to you as possible while he steadied a rhythm. All you could think of was him. Steve. Steve. Steve. 

Steve and his dirty, filthy mouth. You had to put your mouth against his to get him to be quiet, content to talk you through the whole ordeal. His words made your cunt weep, his voice was octaves lower, his eyes dark as he grunted words out between each thrust. 

“Pussy squeezing me so tight. You like that, huh? You like how deep I am?” His hand pressed against your lower belly, his cock stretching deep into your womb. “You’re gonna feel me for days.”

You pressed open-mouthed kisses on his shoulder blades; no matter how close he was, it still wasn’t enough. You wanted to open his chest, to crawl inside his body. You needed him in a way that went beyond the physical realm. 

“Steve,” You gasped at a particularly hard thrust. “Fucking me so good.” 

 He pulled back from your mouth to look at you, despite your whines of protest. He looked deeply into your eyes, his brows softening at you. “I love you.” He spoke, nothing but raw admiration in his voice. 

You smiled, a true smile that met your eyes. It felt like it had been years since you smiled this hard. “I love you. I love you so much.” 

“You love me.” He spoke, almost to himself. Leaning down and pressing his lips to yours. You kissed him back feverishly, his hips still pistoning into yours. The sound of sweaty skin slapping against skin echoed throughout the van. Your moans are swallowed by his open mouth. 

From the outside was a comical sight; the windows had long been fogged up. The van is comically shaking from side to side, giving an obvious insight into what was happening in the vehicle. You didn’t notice, didn’t even care. All you cared about was his lips on yours and his cock that was prying you apart. Ruining you for every other man, not that you’d even think about touching one with a ten-foot pole. 

In just the past thirty minutes, Steve had picked up on every small cue your body had to give, your brows furrowing in concentration and your hips bucking up wildly. “Gonna cum, baby? Give it to me. Let me feel it. Cum on daddy’s cock.” 

“Holy fuck,” You nodded frantically, feeling your cunt release around him, “Oh my god, I’m cumming, daddy, I’m cumming.” 

“Oh, I knew you were filthy.” 

The groans he let out as you spurted your release around him had you reeling. It was animalistic, his hands grabbing your hips. Your body went slack, Steve using your sopping cunt to chase his own high. Tears slipped down your face, overwhelmed by the feeling of your orgasm still rolling through your body when his hips stuttered. One final thrust and Steve was cumming deep inside you, moaning out curses of your name. His arms were wobbly, leaning his head down into the crook of your neck. 

“So good for me, baby. So good.” He praised, rubbing your hair from your forehead. He whispered sweet praises, kissing your skin gently as you came down. 

“I love you so much.” You all but sobbed, clinging to him like a lifeline. 

“I love you more.” He whispered, rocking you gently in his arms. “It’s okay. You’re safe, sweet girl. I got you. I always got you.” 

He wiped your tears and stayed there until you regained feeling in your body again.

 Smiling shakily up at him.”I’m feeling very unwound.” That got a laugh out of him, his body jostling against yours. 

 You could feel his cum seeping out of you, his soft cock still nudging inside your cunt deliciously. “M’gonna pull out okay?” 

You whined, letting him anyway. Your body mourned the loss, soreness seeping into your bones. He fumbled around for something to clean you with, eyes nearly bulging out of your head when you asked to use his jacket. 

“I love you, babe, but that's courdoury.” 

“Okay, diva.” You laughed, finding old take-out napkins. He cleaned you as romantically as he could, given the circumstances. Helping you pull your clothes on slowly. Laughing at your shaky legs, as if he wasn’t the sole cause of them. 

“I don’t suppose you have some air freshener up there, do you?” You asked while Steve cranked the van again, starting the A/C on full blast. It wouldn’t be enough to cool your flushed skin, opting to open the back doors. The cool night air prickles against your damp skin. 

“Uhhh. No.” He hollered, coming around to join you at the back. “I can stop and get some at the Quick Mart before we pick Hopper up.” 

“Gonna have to. Reeks in there of debauchery.” You laughed, grabbing your pack of cigarettes from your bag. Placing one in between your teeth and lighting it. “Want one handsome? Since it’s not a secret anymore.” 

“Ah fuck it.” He smiled, stealing one from the pack. Using the lit cigarette in your mouth to light his own, an unneeded excuse to get close to you. He hadn’t smoked since high school, the nicotine going straight to his head. Only adding to the rush, he got every time he was in your vicinity. It paled to every drug. 

Your head leaned against his shoulder, breathing in him alongside the smoke. No words needed to be said, not right now. You sure looked like quite the pair. A pair of misfits clinging to each other outside the WSQK van. His hair was a mess from your hands running through it. You were sure bits of gel were clinging to your hands. 

The tapping on your bedroom window came at 10pm, like clockwork.

You could see Steve’s goofy smile through the glass, waving to you from where he was crouched in the bushes outside. You couldn’t help but laugh as you climbed off your bed, making your way over and lifting the window.

Steve climbed inside with a little less grace than he had when he was 16 sneaking into girls’ rooms after their parents had gone to bed. His ass hit the ground with a low thud before he lifted himself, brushing off his jeans and pushing up the sleeves of his pullover.

“Kind of crazy I still have to climb through your window like we’re a couple of teenagers,” Steve said quietly, resting his hands on your hips and pulling you close.

“Yeah, well,” you said, plucking a twig from his hair before brushing your fingers through it. His eyes fell closed at the feeling, smiling contentedly. “My parents still think I’m a child.”

And no one even knew you and Steve were together yet.

After years of being best friends - strictly platonic - no one thought twice about how close you and Steve were. Everyone knew Steve had harbored feelings for Nancy for years, and thought he still did. It got to the point where Steve and Jonathan argued constantly because he thought Steve was trying to win Nancy back.

Truthfully, that was just Steve. He was a bit of a show-off.

When things between you and Steve had turned into more a few months ago, it hadn’t exactly been your intention to keep it a secret. But with the end of the world scenario Hawkins was currently living, no one was paying that much attention to what the two of you were doing.

And it was kind of nice. Like your own little world.

Steve pulled you closer until your body was pressed against his, his large hands sliding around to grip your ass over the tiny shorts you were wearing. He bent down, his breath fanning across your cheek, making you shiver. He pressed his lips to your neck, and without even thinking about it you tilted your head to the side, giving him more access.

“It’s kind of exciting, though,” he mumbled against the skin of your neck. Your breaths came a little harder, your eyes closing. “Sneaking around…” His fingertips danced up the backs of your thighs, pushing up the hem of your shorts until they grazed the curve of your ass, the edge of your panties. “Having to stay quiet when I fuck you.”

“Steve…” you breathed, hands coming up to rest on his chest. You still weren’t used to the way he made you feel now. The way he made your head spin, your lungs ache, the throbbing between your thighs when he spoke to you like this. There was nothing friendly about the things he did to you.

He murmured your name back in return, and it sent a shiver up your spine. His teeth grazed the skin of your neck, and you drew in a gasp, hands tightening into fists in his shirt.

Steve moved, walking you back towards your bed. When your legs hit the edge of the mattress, you fell down onto it, bouncing softly on the plush material. Your room hadn’t changed much since you were younger, despite your 20th birthday having just passed. You still had the same white frilly pillowcases and fluffy pink duvet. You had been embarrassed about it the first time Steve came over, but there was something he liked about taking you apart piece by piece on that stupid bed.

You moved back to lay on the pillows while Steve kicked his sneakers off. He didn’t take his eyes off you, crawling onto the edge of the bed, running his hand slowly from your ankle up to your thigh. He squeezed the plush of your thigh, pushing your legs apart and crawling between them.

The rough denim of his jeans rubbed against the backs of your thighs as he settled there. He leaned over your body, hand moving up to your hip, then beneath your t-shirt, tracing over the skin of your stomach with an unexpected reverence. His calloused fingertips brushed against the sensitive skin of your sides next, and you exhaled a shaky breath, the sensation like ice through your veins.

“You’re so pretty,” Steve murmured, and you weren’t sure if he was telling you or just noting it to himself. He pushed your t-shirt up just to the bottom of your breasts, pressing featherlight kisses against your stomach. His lips trailed higher, smirking as he felt how hard you were breathing. He pulled back, looking down at you - how did you look so wrecked already?

Disappointed by the loss of his touch, you opened your eyes. “Why’d you stop?” you asked, the pout on your pretty lips making Steve’s own pull into that cocky smirk you knew all too well.

“You’re needy tonight,” he observed, thumb tracing circles over your hip. You could tell it was boosting his ego, which he really didn’t need. “I’ve barely even touched you yet.”

“Don’t flatter yourself,” you said, although even Steve could see how weak the protest was. Even though Steve was your boyfriend now - you were still getting used to that - you often fell into that playful bickering from years of friendship. “You’re not that good.”

Steve planted a hand by your shoulder, leaning back over your body. Any teasing died on your lips the second his body pressed into yours, and you couldn’t help the moan that escaped when you felt his hot tongue against your neck, right over your pulse point. Your hand shot up to grasp at his bicep, clinging to him tightly.

You could feel the smirk against your skin. “I bet you’re already so wet,” he murmured. He pressed his lips to your neck, nuzzling his nose against the curve between your neck and shoulder. “I bet if I touch you right now, I’ll see just how good I am at getting you worked up.”

“Christ, Steve,” you breathed. As much as you wanted to tease him, to make him work for it, you couldn’t hide what he was doing to you. Your body was reacting to every touch, every word, to an almost embarrassing level. 

His free hand slid back down your side until he reached the waistband of your shorts. He relished in the little gasp you let out when he slipped his hand beneath, into the lace panties you had put on specifically for him, his thick fingers gently tracing through your folds.

“Oh,” he groaned, feeling the proof of everything you’d tried to deny. “God, baby, you’re soaked.” He pulled back to look down at you, his hazel eyes burning into yours with an intensity that hadn’t been there minutes before. “Just for me, huh?”

He pressed his fingers against your clit, already swollen and throbbing with need, and there was no way you could have denied it even if you wanted to.

“Uh huh,” you moaned, looking up at him with every ounce of desire written clear across your face. It nearly took Steve’s breath away, how perfect you looked. He was straining against his jeans so hard it was starting to hurt, desperate to free himself and fuck you already. 

“You make me so hard,” he muttered, his hand moving down until his index finger was pressed against your entrance. Your body thrummed with anticipation, craving to be filled by him in some way, any way, and you could see on his face that he was going to give you exactly what you wanted—

The phone rang, shrill and startling in the charged atmosphere of your bedroom.

“Shit,” you cursed, letting out a deep sigh. Steve pulled his hand from your shorts, sitting back on his knees with a huff and the disappointed look of someone who had just dropped his whole ice cream cone on the ground.

You leaned over the bed to your nightstand, lifting the phone from the receiver. You and Steve exchanged a look before you pressed the phone to your ear. “Hello?”

Your name came through the other end of the line in an exasperated breath. “God, it’s been a day.”

You sat up a little, leaning back against the pillows. “Hey, Nance,” you said, meeting Steve’s eyes. He raised his eyebrows, staying silent. “What’s up?”

“I am just so tired of guys, to be honest with you,” Nancy said, letting out what she’d clearly been holding in for a while. “I swear Jonathan just turns into this…this caveman when Steve is around! It’s like the smart, sensitive guy I fell for is just gone, and all he cares about is winning me, like I’m some…object.”

The speaker on the phone was loud, letting Steve hear every word she said. He chuckled quietly, and you rolled your eyes, kicking his thigh lightly. You didn’t understand the rivalry Steve had with Jonathan. It seemed like Steve just thought it was funny to piss him off.

“Yeah, it’s stupid,” you agreed, trying to give Nancy your attention even while Steve was being as annoying as possible, tickling your feet. You kicked at him again, and he laughed, dodging out of the way. He moved in to kiss your cheek, flopping down on the pillows next to you. “Um…” You tried to tune Steve out, because he was being incredibly distracting. “Have you talked to him about it?”

A sigh. “Of course. But you know he won’t admit anything. He won’t admit he’s jealous of Steve.”

Steve looked way too smug for his own good. You ignored him, holding a hand up to block out his face. He snatched your hand, placing a kiss against your palm. “Of course he won’t. He’s a man.” You glanced over at Steve, who looked mock offended at that.

“And don’t even get me started on Steve.”

You froze at that. Steve raised his eyebrows at you, looking even more amused by the turn the conversation was taking.

“Oh, yeah,” you said weakly, because you weren’t really sure what else to say.

“I know he’s your best friend,” Nancy said, as if she hadn’t talked to you about Steve countless times before. “But I wish he would just move on. We dated years ago, and it didn’t work out. I just wish he would…I don’t know…get over me.”

You and Steve exchanged amused smiles at that - because she had no idea how much Steve had already moved on. “Maybe he just needs to meet someone,” you said, fighting back the giggle as Steve’s lips began brushing over your neck again, down to your collarbone. You swatted at his arm half-heartedly, although you didn’t really want him to stop.

“I’m starting to worry he never will,” Nancy said. “And I care about Steve, I hate to break his heart, but it’s just not going to happen.”

Your breath hitched as Steve’s lips trailed down your body again. As he reached your stomach, pushing your shirt up again and kissing above the waistband of your shorts, you looked down at him with furrowed brows. The mischief gleaming in those hazel eyes was familiar, but rarely a good thing.

“Yeah,” you said, your voice more breathy than you intended when Steve spread your legs, his lips pressing against your inner thigh. Your jaw dropped when his teeth scraped against the sensitive skin, your head falling back on the pillows. Was he fucking insane?

If Nancy noticed how distracted you were, she didn’t say anything. “I mean, he’s a great guy and all,” she went on, “You know that. I’m sure he’s gonna make some girl very happy one day.”

You looked down, making eye contact with Steve as he smirked up at you, slipping his fingers beneath the top of your shorts and sliding them down your legs. A flush crept onto your skin, the room all of a sudden feeling much hotter. Steve placed another kiss on your thigh before he leaned forward, pressing his lips against your clit through the lace of your panties. Your free hand tightened in the sheets. “Y-Yeah, for sure.”

“He’s handsome, funny, sweet, romantic. He loves his grand gestures.”

Steve looked far too smug as he listened to her praises, but he was focused on his mission. He stuck out his tongue, licking your folds through the already soaked material of your panties. You drew in a sharp breath, fighting back the urge to groan. “Yeah, he’s…he’s great.”

“But he can also just be a total…meathead!”

You looked down at Steve then, holding back a laugh. “Oh, yeah, for sure.” It was his turn to roll his eyes at you, but all thoughts of teasing vanished from your brain as he slipped the lace off your body, leaving you bare for him. The cool air against your wet pussy had you clenching your thighs together, but Steve spread them again, looking down at you like he was starving and ready to absolutely devour you.

“I mean, honestly,” she went on as Steve nuzzled against your core, his nose brushing against your clit in a way that made your whole body jolt. “Everything has to be a competition for my attention. It was so stupid, him and Jonathan racing each other up the radio tower. They could have gotten hurt, but all they cared about was showing off for me, like I’m going to pick the ‘strongest man’, or whatever they think women want.”

Listening to Nancy talk about Steve trying to impress her almost made you giggle. Steve loved to show off, that was for sure, but Nancy was definitely getting the wrong idea. You bit back a grin at the memory of how Steve had fucked you from behind in the WSQK supply closet after, hard and fast with the adrenaline still pumping through his veins.

“So stupid,” you agreed. You had to slap your hand over your mouth when you felt Steve’s tongue finally delving between your folds, greedily tasting every inch of you, how sweet and wet you were. His fingers dug tightly into your thighs, fighting back his own groan of pleasure.

“Like a couple of neanderthals,” Nancy sighed. “And it’s making Jonathan into a total pain. He’s just moody all the time now, and it’s because Steve keeps provoking him. I mean, I know you’re close, but don’t you think Steve can be such a…a total ass?”

“Oh yeah, a total ass,” you said. Steve quickly wiped the playful grin off your face when he wrapped his lips around your clit, sucking, his fingers sliding between your folds again. The whimper escaped your lips before you could stop it, and you bit down on your hand hard enough to leave a mark when he pressed a long finger inside of you.

Your hips lifted off the bed, grinding against his face and hand like you were desperate for more of whatever he’d give you. He groaned so quietly you could barely hear it, but the vibrations against your aching clit had your thighs trembling. He slowly grinded his hips against the bed while he lapped at your cunt, a second finger sliding into you and curling deep inside.

Your hand with the phone dropped out to your side, Nancy’s voice still somehow audible as she continued on with her rant. You grabbed one of your pillows, holding it over your face and burying your moan in the stupid frilly pillowcase, heat coiling low in your belly. God, he was going to make you cum so hard with that stupid mouth of his.

Steve flicked his tongue over your clit again, fucking his fingers in deep until he was hitting that spot over and over again with a level of precision that only came with experience. It almost pissed you off, how quickly and perfectly Steve could make you fall apart.

Your orgasm was building fast. Your back was arching, body writhing on the bed, breaths coming in hot and heavy. Your thighs trembled around his head, and you let go of the phone to tangle your fingers in his messy hair, giving a sharp tug that made him groan even louder this time.

The vibrations from his moaning, his tongue working over your sensitive clit, and his thick fingers fucking you hard and deep were bringing you to the edge faster than you cared to admit, but it was the whimper he let out as he grinded his cock down hard against the bed that was your undoing.

You let go of his hair, both hands gripping the pillow and holding it tight over your face as you let out the most desperate, needy moans, loud enough that the whole house would have heard you. Steve worked you through it, making sure he drew out every last bit of pleasure, every tremor from your body, tongue working slowly now as he brought you back to earth.

The phone call had gone completely forgotten, until you heard Nancy calling your name over the line.

You pushed the pillow away, grabbing the handset and bringing it back to your ear. “Sorry, my mom needed something,” you said quickly, praying Nancy hadn’t heard any of the noises you had just made.

“Oh, it’s fine, I have to get going anyways. But I’ll see you tomorrow!”

You tried to catch your breath as relief flooded your body. “Yeah, of course. Goodnight, Nance.”

“Night!”

The line went dead, and your body visibly relaxed. Thank god she hadn’t noticed anything weird. Steve was still kissing your thighs, his hazel eyes looking up at you from between your legs with an intensity that made your heart thud hard against the wall of your chest.

The second the phone was back on the receiver, Steve crashed his lips to yours like he couldn’t take it for another second. You could taste yourself on his tongue when he licked into your mouth, kissing you in the most filthy, needy way. He bit at your bottom lip and you moaned, fingers digging into his biceps. He rutted his hips against your thigh as he kissed you, and you could feel every inch of him through the tight denim.

He pulled back from your body, lips and chin still wet with your release and his eyes glazed over with lust. He took in the sight of you, so wrecked and beautiful, laying there in nothing but the loose t-shirt you had stolen from his closet at some point.

“God, look at you,” he muttered. His fingertips traced over your skin with the kind of reverence reserved for something holy. “Jesus. You’re unreal.”

You wanted to scold him for the stunt he’d pulled while you were on the phone, wanted to tell him that was risky and stupid and would have been so embarrassing if Nancy had figured it out, but those thoughts quickly disappeared when he grabbed the bottom of his shirt, pulling it over his head and tossing it to your bedroom floor. You almost moaned as your eyes shamelessly raked over his chest, all lean muscle covered by that thick, dark hair you were way more into than you ever expected to be.

“See something you like?” he teased, calloused palm pushing your t-shirt up your body until your tits were exposed. Your nipples hardened in the air and he brushed his fingers over the stiff peaks of them, making you shudder.

“Steve…” you said, breathing his name like a plea. 

“Yeah, baby?” he asked, eyes never leaving your chest. He gripped your breast in his left hand, squeezing it - fit so perfectly in his hand, he thought - his thumb rubbing over your nipple.

“I need you,” you admitted in a whine. You hated letting him see how badly he affected you, because it always went straight to his big head, but you couldn’t help it. You pushed your hips down, grinding against his thigh, desperate for his touch even though he’d just made you cum on his tongue and fingers minutes ago.

“Fuck,” he hissed, pulling back from you as if he’d been burned. His hands moved to his jeans at lightning speed, the clink of his belt buckle loud in the quiet of the bedroom as he undid it as fast as he could. “I can’t- shit, I need to fuck you right now.”

He shoved his jeans and boxers down in one go, groaning as his thick, aching cock was finally freed. He kicked his pants off to the floor, wrapping a hand around himself and giving his cock a few quick strokes as he stared down at your body. He was so worked up from what you’d done, his tip flushed red and a drop of precum beading at his slit that made your mouth water.

Steve leaned over your body, leaning his weight on one strong arm planted above your shoulder while his other dragged the head of his cock through your folds. “I bet you liked that, didn’t you?” he said, his voice a low growl in your ear.

It took you a minute to realize he’d asked you a question, too busy focusing on the feeling of his cock pressing against your entrance, wishing he would just take you already. When he didn’t give you what you wanted, you opened your eyes, looking up at him. “What?”

“I said, I bet you liked that,” Steve murmured, pushing his cock inside just barely, not even a full inch, making you whimper as he pulled back out, “I bet you liked having to stay quiet so Nancy wouldn’t know what I was doing to you.” He dragged himself back up through your wetness, pressing against your clit. You drew in a gasp, grabbing onto his shoulders.

“Steve—“ you said, as firmly as you could manage when every nerve ending in your body felt like it was on fire. “You shouldn’t have done that, it was risky—“

“Your body doesn’t lie,” he hummed, leaning down to kiss along your collarbone, his tongue teasing your skin before sucking a mark onto the delicate flesh. “You were soaking my fingers, baby. I could feel you clenching around me every time you had to stay quiet.”

You shuddered beneath him, like his words sent a chill through you. All you could do was let out a quick exhale as you felt him at your tight hole again, and he gently rubbed his nose against your jawline, breathing in the scent of your body wash combined with the smell of sex.

“No one knows how fuckin’ filthy you are,” he groaned, his low voice rumbling against your skin. “No one knows how much you love getting fucked. No one but me.”

He moved his hips forward in a slow roll, his cock sinking into you inch by agonizing inch. You keened at the feeling, his cock stretching you out — more like splitting you open — and Steve groaned low in his throat, your tight heat enveloping his length like fucking heaven.

“Oh, fuck,” you rasped once he was fully seated inside you. Your thighs were shaking, and Steve gripped the plush skin, hiking your leg around his waist. His forehead dropped against yours, both breathing heavily as he rolled his hips against you, setting a pace that was slow but deep, punching the air from your lungs with each press.

Steve kissed you, only sweet for a moment before it turned hungry, bruising, massaging his tongue against yours and sucking your lower lip into his mouth. You whimpered, and Steve’s hips bucked forward, grunting against your lips as he lost his rhythm already.

“Fuck,” he hissed, pulling back to admire your body as he fucked into you. He couldn’t hold back anymore, hips rutting hard and fast against yours, watching your tits bounce with every thrust. Your bed creaked beneath the movements, joining the sound of the breathy moans you exchanged, his skin meeting yours. “You’re so fucking tight and hot — the best pussy I’ve ever had, baby, I swear to god—“

Your head dropped back, crying out as you felt that delicious drag of Steve’s thick cock in your velvety walls. Every ridge and vein of him, the way he was so big and curved just right, and he always knew the angle to fuck you at to hit that spot every single time.

“Yeah,” he gasped. “Oh, shit. Fuck, that turned you on, didn’t it baby?” His voice was a low rasp, and he grabbed your wrists with his free hand, pinning them above your head. The way it stretched your body pushed your tits out, and Steve groaned at the sight, momentarily distracted. “I think you like the idea of getting caught with me. I’ve never felt you so fuckin’ wet, Christ.”

As much as you wanted to deny his words, your body reacted on its own, pussy throbbing around his cock, making his pace falter and a choked moan break from his lungs.

“You don’t even have to tell me,” he grunted, wearing his best cocky smirk, although the flush on his cheeks and the way his features kept twisting into pleasure gave away how weak he was for you, too. “You’re— oh, shit—“

He let go of your wrists to grab your thigh and hold you open wider, sinking somehow deeper. You bit down on your lip so hard you tasted blood, trying not to be loud enough for your parents to come knocking. Steve’s tongue darted out to lick his lips as he looked down at you, the sweat shining on your skin, your furrowed brows and parted lips, the tiny little moans he was pulling from you with every movement.

“You are so fucking hot,” he groaned, almost to himself. “So beautiful. Fucking perfect. Made for me.”

“Yours,” you agreed, and the word had barely left your mouth before he was crashing his lips back onto yours, both moaning into the kiss, breathing each other’s air until your head spun.

You raked your nails down his back, long red scratches blooming against his freckled skin. Steve moaned raggedly, hips stuttering as he cursed out a breathy “Fuck,” against your lips.

Steve leaned back on his knees, his hands sliding down your sides before reaching your hips, holding onto you with a bruising grip. He pulled your hips down against his thrusts, using your body to chase his own pleasure, the muscles in his neck and chest tightening as he felt that familiar electricity crackling up his spine.

“Say my name, baby,” He rasped. He was so close. “I wanna know who’s making you feel this good.”

“Steve,” you moaned, reaching up and grabbing onto your pillows, desperate for some kind of leverage as you felt yourself about to fall over the edge. “Oh, god— fuck— Steve!”

Your eyes nearly rolled back in your head as it hit you like a wave, pleasure washing over your body like you’d never felt before. You buried your face in the pillow, muffling the scream you let out as your body tightened around him, squeezing his cock tight within your walls.

“Oh, sh- fuck!”

Steve’s body pitched forward with the intensity of his orgasm, catching himself on his right arm, his left hand gripping so tightly onto your thigh you knew there would be bruises. His hips stuttered against you, his cock pulsing inside your tight walls, filling you with every drop of his cum until he had nothing left.

He stayed buried in you, relishing in the feeling, before he finally pulled out, laying on the bed next to you. He was breathing hard as he wrapped an arm around you, pulling you against his sweaty chest.

You looked up at him, carding your hand through his messy hair. He hummed, leaning into your touch. He grabbed your wrist as you went to pull away, pulling you closer and kissing you with a surprising amount of tenderness after what you’d just done.

He pulled back enough to look you in the eyes with that grin that just screamed Steve and emotion clear as day in his hazel eyes. “I love you.”

Your heart raced, the way he was looking at you sending heat through your veins in a whole different way from before. “I love you too, Steve.”

His hand rested on your hip, tracing slow circles on your skin. “Maybe we should tell people. About us.”

“Yeah?” you asked, hand trailing through the hair on his chest. “You want that?”

“I do,” he said, leaning forward to place a kiss against your forehead. “We probably shouldn’t let Nancy keep thinking I’m obsessed with her when I’m doing this with you.”

You laughed, the memory of the phone call with Nancy making your cheeks heat with embarrassment. “Okay,” you agreed. “We’ll tell people.”

The idea of going public with Steve, everyone knowing you were much more than friends after years of insisting and proving otherwise, was a little scary. But more than that, you were excited. You wanted to be able to be affectionate with Steve in front of your friends. To kiss him, to hold his hand, to let everyone know how much you loved him.

“Does that mean you’re finally gonna leave Jonathan alone now that he knows you’re not after Nancy?” you asked with a teasing smile.

He looked down at you, his brows furrowed with the level of sass only Steve Harrington could achieve. “Now, I never said that.”

as always, comments and reblogs are so so appreciated!

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The Demogorgan had only been dragging you for a few minutes, but it felt like an eternity. You were hitting everything. There was going to be bruises all over your body but the friction burn hurt the most.

You cried out, begging. Begging for the creature to let you go, begging that maybe Hopper would be nearby. Maybe a soldier. Just anybody.

But the Demogorgan didn’t stop. It jerked you forward again, it’s claws hooked under your ankle, your body scraping over another patch of dead, bumpy, broken ground.

And then you saw a wall.

Not a regular wall such as a brick or stone wall, no, it looked like a fleshy membrane wall. The wall was made up of all those branch worm things on the floor.

You guys were heading towards it.

“No, no, no—“ You tried twisting, kicking, punching but the Demogorgan just didn’t notice or simply didn’t care.

The membrane shivered, then split open.

You screamed again, raw and panicked, as you were dragged through. It felt weird. It was cold and slimey. Suffocating.

Your heart slammed against your ribs when you felt the air change. You weren’t in the Upside Down anymore. You were in a forest. It wasn’t cold or dead, it was warm and the trees were a bright green. There was grass and you could see the rays of sunshine shining through the gaps of the tree branches.

The Demogorgan didn’t slow down. It dragged you deeper and deeper into the forest, its claws digging harder into your ankle.

“Help!” you screamed, your throat becoming raw. “Anyone! Please—!”

A branch snapped.

Not under you.

Behind you.

The creature paused for a second, its head tilting.

A gunshot then exploded from somewhere in the trees.

The Demogorgan recoiled, screeching, it’s tight grip on your ankle finally slipping. You felt the claws drag against your skin as they came loose and your body hit the ground with a thud.

“Hey! Over here!”

A man’s voice. He sounded scared and desperate.

Another shot rang out. The Demogorgan screeched, it’s petaled shaped flaps opening to show off it’s sharp teeth.

You staggered onto your elbows, not being able to walk on your throbbing ankle. You tried your best to crawl away but your arms were shaking too much.

“Stay down!” The voice yelled again.

You saw a man run to you, dropping to his knees besides you. He looked pretty young but his outfit was… interesting. He was wearing a brown suit with a matching brown hat. Glasses hung loosely on his nose as he asked you if you could walk.

“N-no.”

He nods, “It’s okay. I got you.” His eyes locked on yours for just a second, long enough for you to feel safety for the first time since this terror has started.

The Demogorgan lunged.

The man shoved you behind him, holding his gun up and emptying it on the Demogorgan.

The creature drops to the floor, snarling in pain. It tries to get up, trying to crawl to the two of you to inflict one last act of pain.

Fortunately, the man shoots it one last time, the creature screeching before becoming still. He walks up to it, kicking it to make sure it was dead.

“Are you okay?” He looks back at you, still on the floor.

Your mouth is agape, looking back and forth between the Demogorgan and your savior.

He slowly approaches you, lowering his gun.

“Hey.” He says softly, like he’s trying not to spook you. “Look at me. You’re alright.”

You swallow hard. “You… killed it.”

He gives a short, shakey laugh, pushing his glasses up. “Almost didn’t. Creepy fuck moves faster than you think.”

You muster a smile. You try to get up once again, but ultimately fail.

“Hey— hey, take it easy.” He helps you up, putting your arm around his shoulders so you can walk. “We should go before anything else smells this mess.”

Your chest tightens. “There’s more?”

He nods. “All over this forest. You should be careful, stay away from here.”

The two of you walk for a bit. Well, limp. The forest was beautiful. Flowers and green everywhere. It smelled amazing and you could actually breathe through both of your nostrils because of how much nature was around you.

“Hey, uhm… so who are you?” You manage, grunting as he helps you go up a bridge.

“Henry. Henry Whatsit.”

-

“I’m losing him… stop… STOP!” Jonathan shouts.

Steve slams on the brakes, almost lurching forward. He watches anxiously as Jonathan desperately tries to find Hopper’s frequency.

A second goes by.

And then another.

And then—

“I found him.” Jonathan breathes, relief washing over his face.

Steve drops back in his seat, exhaling the breath he didn’t even realize he’d been choking on.

The radio then explodes with Robin’s voice.

“Steve! Jonathan! Helloooooo??? Anyone there? Major problem. Major, major!”

Jonathan grabs the walkie. “Robin, slow down— what’s going on?”

“Will had his goosies and saw a demogorgan coming after Hopper and nowthedemogorganisheadingtowardsthewheelershouseitsafternancysfamilyandelevenandy/nwentwithnancy.”

Steve stiffens, stomach flipping. He snatches the walkie from Jonathan, “What? What? What do you mean—“

Jonathan snatches it back.

“Hey dude, what the heck?” Steve snatches it once again.

Jonathan tries to snatch it but Steve has a firm grip on it, the two of them rocking back and forth as they fight over who can have the walkie talkie. They are mid tug of war when it suddenly crackles so loudly they both freeze.

Static.

Steve finally lets go, throwing his hands up. “See what you did?”

Jonathan makes a face at Steve, but decides not to respond. He hits the walkie a few times, trying to get it to work. After a few more tries, he gives up, tossing it in the back somewhere.

“Let’s just head back…” He finally mutters.

“No, let’s go to the Wheelers.”

“Are you insane, dude? I think they have it under control, Eleven is with them.”

Steve puts his lips into a thin line, slowly nodding. “Alright.”

He’s worried about you. You weren’t really the action type. Yeah, you could fuck a Demogorgan up with the right weapons but you preferred to stay behind the scenes. Steve appreciated the fact you were like that, never truly feeling like you were in danger. But hearing Robin’s jamble of words, hearing you where at the Wheelers house with a Demogorgan there? It freaked him the fuck out.

“Can we at least drive by? Make sure they’re okay?” He pleads, staring at Jonathan expectantly. Honestly, whether Jonathan said yes or no, at the end of the day Steve was the one driving.

Jonathan breathes out of his nose, he rubs the bridge of his nose. “Okay.”

Steve doesn’t hesitate a moment, turning the key.

The engine sputters, stopping.

Nothing.

He tries again, harder this time, like somehow force alone will make the van turn on.

It sputters once again and then stops.

Jonathan’s eyebrows slowly rise, “Don’t tell me…”

Steve slams his palm against the wheel. “Are you kidding me? Now? Now? God damnit!”

“Push harder!”

“I am!” Steve snaps, twisting the key again. The van wheezes, but doesn’t turn on. It lets out the weakest sputter Steve has ever heard.

Steve looks at Jonathan. Jonathan looks at Steve.

Jonathan sighs, defeated. “Let me try.”

Before Steve could respond, Jonathan was already latching onto the key and twisting as hard as he could. Nothing happens. Steve wanted to let out a “I told you so” but decided not to, instead getting out and slamming the door behind him. He starts waving his arms in the air like a desperate maniac, in hopes that a car will stop for him.

Jonathan watches Steve make a fool out of himself, trying his best not to laugh as Steve was nearly having a breakdown. A part of him felt empathy for the poor dude, the other not worried because he knew you could handle yourself. He knew Nancy could protect you. And he know Eleven could protect you both.

Not too long goes by when a car finally pulls alongside of the road, agreeing to give Steve a jumpstart.

It’s a woman. Steve couldn’t remember her name, but he remembered who she was related to.

A few years back when Steve worked at Scoops Ahoy with Robin, he was desperately hitting on every woman that came in there. He only received rejection after rejection and excuse after excuse.

One day, while he was on his break, he decided to go next door to get a snack. As he was eating his pretzel, a woman tapped him on his back. She asked him on a date and he agreed, only to not show up.

This happened a few more times until he thinks she finally realized her worth and stopped bothering him.

And this girl standing five feet away from him, elbows crossed and eyes narrowed?

Her sister.

He shuffles nervously, stuffing a hand inside his pocket. He pulls out a Bopper, grin on his face. “Bopper? While we wait?”

She doesn’t look amused. Scoffing and sending a quick eye roll his way before getting back into her car.

Steve’s grin turns into a grimace, mentally scolding himself as he ripped open the wrapper.

Whatever. I wanted it anyways…

“Steve! STEVE!! Y/N is gone!” Jonathan jumps out of the car, breathless, eyes wide with panic. He’s holding the walkie talkie. Steve straightens instantly, the just opened Bopper slipping from his fingers and hitting the dirt.

“Steve—“ Jonathan gulps, his hand shaking as he holds up the walkie talkie. “Y/N is gone—“

For a moment everything around Steve just cuts out. No cars passing, no pissed off sister glaring at the scene, no light breeze— just ringing.

“W-what?” His voice cracks under the weight of his words, almost childlike. “No. No… what do you mean she’s gone? Like, like she ran?”

Jonathan shakes his head, swallowing. “Taken, Steve. The Demogorgan took her.”

Steve’s heart basically falls out his ass. He takes one shaky step back, then another, and another, like the ground is rolling under him. He can barely breathe. His hands go to his hair, gripping tightly, pulling. He feels like he’s going to throw up. Or pass out. Both.

Jonathan steps forward, trying to offer some comfort but Steve jerks away. “Fuck, fuck, FUCK!”

“Steve—“

“No!” Steve snaps, voice cracking. “You don’t get it. She’s out there— with that thing. And we’re just sitting here with a dead van and, and—“ His breath stutters again. “She’s out there, scared and alone.”

He swallows, hard. His eyes are wet, but he refuses to blink. Refuses to look vulnerable. “We’re going. Now. I don’t care if I have to run barefoot, Jonathan— man, we need to find her.”

Jonathan nods, already turning back to the van. “Let’s go.”

But Steve doesn’t move right away.

He freezes. Blinking a few times and rubbing them in disbelief.

“Henderson?”

A beat up Dustin Henderson walks up slowly, bike rolling next to him as his face looked like a punching bag.

“What the shit, man!”

-

Henry helps you down into a fallen log, steadying you with a hand on your back. The forest around you is calm, making you feel safe but still anxious on how you would get back. Where even is this place? What is this place?

What about your baby?

It’s probably the size of a single bean but still. What if all this caused them damage? You read somewhere that babies can feel what the mother is feeling.

Henry crouches in front of you, putting his hat down besides him. He inspects your ankle, cringing.

“You’re lucky it didn’t rip off your foot. Or your leg.” he says lightly, taking your shoe off.

He wasn’t wrong, your ankle looked gnarly. You couldn’t tell where the cut started and where it ended with all the dried blood.

How much blood did a mother have to lose for the baby to be in danger?

He pulls out a small cloth. It looks old, a little frayed around the ages but clean. He looks at you for permission and you nod, flinching as it stings intensely from the cloth.

“Sorry,” He says, though his voice doesn’t sound entirely apologetic. “I need to see if—“

His words die as a scream slices through the trees, almost blood curdling.

Your heart jumps into your throat, already trying to stand to your feet. Oh no, no, no. Not another Demogorgan. Please not.

Henry stands immediately, too fast, too smooth, and picks up his hat.

You’re telling me you hear a scream and the first thing you think of is “huh im gonna put on my hat!”?

Henry was for sure an interesting guy.

He hears something before you do. His head cocks slightly, almost animal like.

And then it pops out, once again, the second time you’re seeing this dumb creature. But this time, it was carrying a little girl?

Your stomach dropped. This felt like a nightmare looping back on itself.

Struggling to get up, you’re ready to dip— let this Henry guy figure it out alone. He seemed to be really experienced with Demogorgans, he can handle this on his own while you head off your own way, figuring out a way to get back home. Until the little girl on the creatures shoulder looked up and your heart stopped.

Holly Wheeler.

“And for the lady…” He starts, digging through the truck before he hops back out. He holds up a large container of cheese puffs.

Huh?

“I didn’t ask for those…?” Your statement sounds more of a question.

“Oooouuu!! Cheese puffs!” Steve exclaims, reaching a hand out to grab them. Murray slaps his hand, “They’re not for you. Y/N, I strongly suggest you take these.”

Realization finally hits you, the two of you sharing a look before you snatch them. You say a quick thank you before running inside.

You place the container on the counter, looking back to make sure nobody was coming inside before shoving your hand inside to go hunting.

Almost immediately, your hand feels a plastic box. You check one more time to make sure everybody was still outside before pulling it out.

Unopened, it came with two sticks and a long list of instructions. Pee on it, wait ten minutes, then come check on it.

One line = Not pregnant.

Two lines = Pregnant.

You stare at the box like it might explode.

Your heart is thumping so loudly you’re sure someone could hear it through the walls.

A month since you and Steve crossed that line you’d spent weeks pretending you hadn’t crossed. And now the evidence sat in that box, in form of a thin plastic test.

You set the test on the counter.

Maybe you’re just stressed? Maybe that’s why you’re late? Maybe it’ll come tomorrow? Or tonight?

In the distance, you hear Murray’s voice through the cracked window. Probably teasing Steve about something. It makes your stomach clench. Will he be happy? Sad? Mad? Will he just leave you?

You shove the box in your pocket, not bothering to clean up the cheesy, powdery snack. You make your way to the bathroom, softly closing the door behind you. You face the mirror.

Please be negative.

Please, please, please, please, please.

You peel the cardboard open like it’s sacred, eyes darting towards the door every few seconds. You pick one of the sticks up. It feels heavy in your hands, too real.

Taking a deep breathe in and holding it for a few seconds, you finally let go and open the toilet seat.

After you’re done, you put it on the bathroom counter upside down. The bathroom feels too quiet, too small, too restricting.

You sunk down, back against the door as you brought your knees up to your chest. You were shaking, a million thoughts running through your head.

Ten minutes suddenly feels like a lifetime.

A knock rattles the bathroom door.

Your heart launches in your throat. You launch up, hiding the test.

“Hey,” Steve’s voice comes through, soft and concerned. “You okay in there? You kinda just ran off.”

You swallow hard.

“Uh— I-I’m fine.” Your voice cracks. “I just needed to use the bathroom!”

“Are you crying?” Steve’s voice is closer now, even more concerned.

You can’t tell him.

Not yet.

“I’m fine.” You barely managed to say.

It’s quiet. You can tell he knows you’re lying. He could always read you like a book.

“Are you sure?” He says, this time his hand was on the doorknob.

“Y-yes!” You say, quickly putting your weight against the door so he couldn’t come in.

He hesitates, letting go. “Okay. I’ll be right out here, okay?” He speaks softly. “Take your time.”

His footsteps fade, but your pulse doesn’t.

You grab the test from where you hid it, putting it back on the counter.

Six more minutes.

You pace once.

Twice.

Your nerves buzz under your skin like electricity.

A slow, dreadful six minutes go by. Slowly, very slowly, you flip it over.

You squeeze your eyes shut.

Just look.

Just get it over with.

Just—

Your eyes snap open and the world stops.

Two lines.

Two pink, undeniable lines.

You blink a few times, rubbing your eyes to make sure they weren’t playing tricks on you.

Nope.

Maybe if you shake it?

Nope, still nothing. Just the same two lines.

The air rushes out of your lungs all at once. You stumble back, hitting the wall as the test drops.

Two lines.

Holy fuck you’re pregnant.

A tear slips down your cheek before you even notice it, then another, and another.

Steve.

What are you going to tell Steve? What about the group? Nancy? Robin? Joyce? Hopper? The kids? Dustin—

Another knock interrupts your thoughts, “Y/N?”

That wasn’t Steve.

“There’s a crawl tonight. We need you.” Nancy says, knocking again.

Shit.

-

The lights flicker on, “So, all in all, signs point to another successful crawl.”

There’s an awkward silence.

Nancy frowns, crossing her arms. “Is there a problem?”

Jonathan looks at the trio sitting by the table: Robin, Steve, and Y/N before looking back at his girlfriend.

“Uhm…” He hesitates, “No, no, I mean, I think it’s all good.

Steve talks, “Yeah, yeah, it’s good. It’s really good… it’s just uhm..”

“Zone G1 is not that exciting or Venca-y.” Robin interrupts him. “What does it have? A Circuit City, a couple of houses, and a Big Buy?”

Nancy looks offended. “Doesn’t matter. We stick to the plan and…”

Her voice keeps moving, focused and filled with words you’ve already heard what is it, 30 something times before— “pattern”, “radius”, “30 miles only”, “dont mess this up”, “more than enough time”, “staying focused”.

But it all turns into static in your ears.

Your eyes stay locked in your lap. The image of the two lines popping in your head.

Your stomach churns and all of the sudden, before you know it, you are running to the nearest trashcan and throwing up.

“Woah- woah- hey, you’re okay. You’re okay.” You hear his voice. Steve’s hand, wrapping around your hair to hold it back. The other hand rubbing up and down your back.

You hear feet shuffling, getting closer and closer. “Nervous?” Robin speaks, handing you napkins.

You wipe your mouth, still trembling, the sour taste still lingering on your tongue.

“Thanks,” you mutter, embarrassed. Everyone is staring now. Jonathan was in a different spot now, closer to offer help but not close enough to see the waste. Nancy was in the same spot, blinking like she’s mentally calculating twenty different explanations for what just happened. Robin is looking away, trying not to gag and Steve, he looks like a kicked puppy. Eyes wide as saucers as he scans you to make sure you’re okay.

“You okay?” He speaks, his hand hovering near your shoulder like he’s scared to touch you. “Is it because of the shitty plan?”

“It is not shitty!” Nancy snaps, eyebrows furrowed but then they soften when she looks back at you. “Is it?”

“N-no… It’s just those dang cheese puffs. I ate too many.”

Your excuse hangs in the air as everyone exchanges looks.

Robin squints at you. “Okay but like… you’ve eaten way more disgusting things than that before. Remember those nachos Dustin made?”

“You’re gonna make me puke again…”

“Robin.” Steve hisses, glaring at her.

“What? I’m just saying—“

“I’m fine.” You cut in quickly, forcing a small smile. “Really I’m fine.”

Nancy’s brows pinch. “You barely ate any of those,” She says carefully, suspicious.

Jonathan shoots her a look.

Nancy rolls her eyes but lays off. She wasn’t annoyed at you or because of you. She was annoyed that everybody was so oblivious. Obviously, something was going on with you.

And she was going to find out.

-

“Where’s Henderson?” Steve asks over the radio.

I look over to Mike, he shrugs.

“Anyone heard from Inspector Gadget?” Hopper asks, in full gear. He was standing next to Joyce, waiting for Dustin.

When it comes to Crawls, Steve and Dustin are in charge of keeping in touch with Hopper while he’s in the Upside Down. Steve drives, Dustin listens to the frequency. They carefully follow Hopper by his frequency, ensuring he’s safe. Sometimes you tag along, riding next to Steve or laying in the back of the van.

Everybody shakes their heads. I sigh, talking into the walkie talkie, “He’s not here.”

“Well, how am I supposed to drive and listen?”

Will immediately cuts in, hopeful. “I can do it! Right, mom?”

Joyce immediately frowns, “No.”

“But— but I know how to! I helped Dustin put togeth—“

“No! You’re not going, it’s too dangerous.” Joyce quickly dismisses her son. “Jonathan, you can do it?”

Will’s face falls. He looks at Jonathan, eyes pleading to at least try to change her mind. He doesn’t though.

“Yeah… I think I can.” He mutters.

“You think? Or you know? I can’t die out there.” Hopper asks.

Jonathan swallows, nodding before answering. “Yes. Yes I can.”

You talk into the walkie talkie, “Jonathan is gonna help you.”

A groan erupts from the other side, “Really?”

You roll your eyes, not bothering to respond. Steve and Jonathan don’t like each other. They haven’t for a while. It all started when Jonathan was taking pictures of Nancy, Steve’s girlfriend at the time. Steve broke Jonathans camera, Nancy got closer to Jonathan, and well you know the story. Although Steve was very much over Nancy Wheeler, he still held a grudge against Jonathan.

You feel a hand tap your shoulder lightly and it makes you jump. It’s Jonathan.

“Uh… Y/N?” He asks quietly, “Do you know where Nancy went? I want to say goodbye before I go.”

You look around the room quickly, confused. Nancy had been the one leading the plan, but now… she’s nowhere in sight.

“C’mon kid. We gotta go.” Hopper says, rushing him.

“I’ll find her so she can say bye over the talkie. I promise.” You say. You wish everybody a safe journey before asking Robin if she’s seen Nancy.

“Uhm…” Robin thinks for a moment. “I think she went to the bathroom?”

Your throat tightens. You can’t speak.

What if she finds the pregnancy test?

You buried it deep, deep, in the trash in a rush because of the crawl. But what if it wasn’t deep, deep? What if it was poking out and she saw it? What if she went through the trashcan? What if I didn’t hide it? What if it was just sitting on the counter?

You take off running to the bathroom, not a word to Robin. You begin knocking like a crazy woman.

“Mike! Hold on—“

“It’s Y/N.”

She stays quiet.

She knows.

She definitely knows.

Can the ground just open up and swallow you whole?

The door opens, and she stares at you. A sympathetic look on her face. That’s all it took for you to burst into tears.

Nancy’s face softens instantly. She doesn’t hesitate, softly grabbing your shoulders and pulling you inside. She closes the door.

“Hey, hey… it’s okay. It’s okay Y/N.” She whispers, even though neither of you believed that.

You’re already shaking your head, tears flooding down your cheeks. “Nance— I— I didn’t want anyone to know, I swear— Steve doesn’t know and now he’s gone—“

Your breath hitches, your words collapsing into a sob.

Nancy grabs the rag hanging off the hook, dabbing your tears away. “Hey, hey. Look, it’s okay. You’re not alone.”

You squeeze your eyes shut, “I didn’t want anyone to know.”

“Y/N… we all would’ve helped you and supported you. We love you.”

Her gentle words make you cry even more, heart beating fast. “Please don’t tell anyone. Please.”

She nods. “I won’t.”

“I just— what am I supposed to do? I can’t have a baby. Not now— with Vecna out there? With the quarantine? I can’t— I can’t—“

Then the lights start flickering.

The both of you freeze, staring at the lightbulb in the bathroom.

The lights die all at once.

Nancy’s grip tightens around your wrist. She says your name, barely above a whisper. You nod even though she can’t see you, your pulse pounding violently.

Then—

A scream.

Nancy reacts first, yanking the door open. You stumble out with her.

Will Byers is on his back, his mom behind him and comforting him. She’s whispering sweet nothings as he’s shaking violently, sweat forming on his forehead. The only source of light coming from Robin’s flashlight.

“I saw it.”

Joyce furrows her brows, “Saw what?”

“The Demogorgan.” Will says, a shiver going down his spine.

Joyce looks even more confused.

“It’s coming. It’s coming for them.” He sobs.

Joyce grabs his face, “For who? Who’s them?”

Will slowly turns, still shaking. His eyes land on Nancy.

Nancy goes pale instantly.

-

The car rattles as Nancy speeds down the road, knuckles white around the wheel. Eleven is sitting in the passenger seat, her hoodie on so she doesn’t get spotted. You’re in the back, curled forward, hands shaking around your belt.

The Demogorgan was going after the Wheelers.

Nancy keeps glancing at you through the mirror. Every time you catch her, she looks away. She’s trying not to panic, you can tell.

Turning onto the Wheelers house street, you can see the lights flickering in the house.

Eleven suddenly sits up straighter.

“It’s here.”

Nancy pulls into the side of the house, slamming on the brakes. You all rush out, Nancy holding a shotgun and you holding Steve’s bat.

Eleven swings open the door with her powers. You all walk in, making sure to be quiet but fast.

The house is eerily silent.

“Mom?” Nancy chokes out. She’s shaking. She’s trying her best not to, but she can’t even hold the gun right. You touch her shoulder softly causing her to jump. You give her your best, “It’s going to be okay look”.

It seems like she didn’t really appreciate that because instead of smiling or saying a thank you, she looks grossed out and scared all in one.

What the hell did you do to this bitc—

Nancy shoves you out of the way, landing to your knees. You can barely process what happened before a shot is sent and your ears are ringing.

You fall onto your back, blood turning into ice when you hear that all too familiar growl.

That tall, impossibly tall, figure steps out of the shadows and pushes Nancy away.

You scream, grabbing the nailed bat. You swing at the creature, only hitting it once before it slapped the bat away. Eleven shouts, using her force to push the Demogorgan away. She rushes to you, trying to help you up. Nancy is near the doorway, her arm is cut up pretty bad from the claws. She still tries her best to load the gun anyways.

She holds the gun up, aiming.

It’s quiet once again.

Too quiet.

Then there’s a crash above your head and before you know it, the creature has you by your leg.

You claw at the floor, nails scraping the wood.

Nancy grabs your arm, trying to pull you back, “ELEVEN!! STOP IT!”

The monster yanks and the force sends Nancy on her back.

Your body is dragged across the floor, you’re trying everything you can to get out. Clawing at anything.

The last thing you hear is Nancy sobbing your name.