Annie's Diary

Robin is thankful you’re still getting changed behind the curtain so that you don’t see her roll her eyes in exasperation.

“Then what do you want?” Robin asks with an air of impatience. “Because I’m hungry and you promised me hot dogs!”

You sigh and glance at the dresses you still had yet to try on and can’t help but feel a little dejected. Steve’s birthday party was on Saturday and you were struggling to find a dress that felt good enough for the party. If it was anyone else’s party, you would have just worn a nice top and either jeans or a denim skirt. But this was Steve Harrington’s party and you wanted to look good. Really good. Because after months of you and Steve dancing around your feelings for each other, you had finally had enough.

And so, you had come up with a little plan to show up to Steve’s party in a nice dress and hope that he would finally take a hint. 

The only problem being—is that you were struggling to find said nice dress. And now you were starting to wonder if it was a stupid plan.

“I don’t know,” you tell Robin miserably, deciding to abandon the dresses you had left to try on in favour of pulling back on your jeans and t-shirt. “I just want something that makes me, you know, stand out to Steve.”

“You always stand out to him,” Robin tells you gently, softening a little at your slightly dejected tone. “But he’s also a guy so he’s also an idiot.”

You laugh a little but your stomach turns a little as you wonder—not for the first time—if Steve really did like you the way everyone told you he did. Robin insisted that Steve liked you, so did Dustin, Max, Lucas and even Nancy. Everyone told you Steve was crazy about you. So why hadn’t he made a move? Why hadn’t he been honest with you about his feelings? What if everyone was wrong? What if he didn’t actually like you and you were making a fool of yourself?

“Are you overthinking again?” Robin asks you when you say nothing.

“No,” you say, the uncertainty in your voice evident as you pull back the curtain to see Robin sitting in the armchair outside of the dressing room. “Maybe? I dunno Robin, I’m starting to doubt the plan.”

Robin sighs, glancing over at the dresses you still had to try on before looking back at you. “You know what I think the problem is?”

“What?”

“I think you’ve been trying to find the wrong type of dress.”

You blink, a little confused by Robin’s words. “What's wrong with the dresses?”

“Nothing! Not really they just—they don’t scream ‘fuck me’, you know?”

“Robin!”

“What?” Robin asks, holding her hands up in surrender. “Do you or do you not want Steve Harrington—christ, I can’t believe I’m saying this—want Steve to fuck you?”

You were aghast, your mouth hanging open in shock at her words. But you don’t deny it because yeah—you did want to him to fuck you.

“I—I um, I mean—”

“—see? You need a ‘fuck me’ dress not a ‘take me to church’ dress,” Robin tells you, stepping into the dressing room to grab the pile of dresses resting on the bench. “Stay right there. I’ll find a dress for you and it’ll make Steve want to fuck your brains out—”

“—Robin!—”

“—kidding! Mostly.”

But the thing is—Robin hadn’t been kidding.

Because the dress she had picked for you was one that didn’t just say ‘fuck me’—it screamed it.

“Are you sure it isn’t too booby?” You ask Robin for perhaps the millionth time as you adjust the strap: of your dress. It was the night of the party and you were getting ready at Robin’s before Steve came to pick you both up and it was only natural that your nervous system was a mess.

“I highly doubt Steve Harrington of all people would think a dress was ‘too booby’,” Robin says with a slight roll of her eyes. “He’ll just see that hint of your cleavage and forget what year it is.”

You smile a little but still, you weren’t entirely convinced. Because now that you were wearing the dress—which was beautiful, the glittering material a mix of black and a deep red that couldn’t help but catch the eye—you were wondering if it was too late to just wear some of Robin’s clothes instead.

But before you could suggest such a thing, the familiar sound of Steve’s car horn came from outside and the words die on your tongue.

“C’mon,” Robin tells you, seeing the slightly panicked look on your face. She gently fixes a piece of stray hair and smiles at you. “You look incredible. Don’t overthink it, okay?”

“Easier said than done,” you mutter as you grab the gift bag with Steve’s present—a watch you knew he had his eye on—in and following Robin out of her bedroom.

You vaguely hear Steve talking animatedly to Robin’s parents in her living room as you make your way down the stairs. Your heart was beating so fast that it felt as though it was attempting to beat its way out of your chest. You felt hot all over, clammy even and you didn’t quite know what to do with your hands because this dress was so far out of your comfort zone that you had the urge to run upstairs and take it off.

As if she had a sixth sense for any thoughts you had of fleeing—Robin grabbed your arm and gave you an encouraging smile when you reached the bottom of the staircase.

“You look great. Stop doubting yourself or I swear to god, I’ll slap you. That four hour shopping trip wasn’t for nothing, you know.”

You blink before a small laugh leaves your lips. “Four hours is an exaggera—”

It was the sound of Steve saying yours and Robin’s name that cuts you off. Your body stills and you turn around and—

Your breath hitches in your throat when you finally see Steve. He looked devastatingly handsome—he always did—but especially in those jeans that hugged his thighs and ass so well that it made your throat feel a little dry. He was also wearing that sage green shirt that you had told him looked nice the other week and you wonder for a moment if he was wearing it for that reason. But before you could think too deeply about it, you finally look at his face and Steve—he was just staring at you, lips parted and seemingly speechless.

Your face feels so hot that you were sure it was noticeable. You could barely hear Robin’s mom gushing about your dress, about how grown up and beautiful you looked because all you could focus on was Steve’s eyes slowly travelling up your body.

It was as though everything else around you had ceased to exist all because Steve Harrington was looking at you.

“Happy Birthday, Steve,” you say finally, your voice higher than usual due to the almost crippling nerves you were feeling.

Steve doesn’t say anything to that and you weren’t sure whether that made you feel better or worse.

“Cleans up well, doesn’t she?” Robin asks Steve with a somewhat smug smile and plainly ignoring the flustered look on your face.

Steve blinks, licking his lips as he tries to formulate a response whilst still looking at you, completely unable to look away.

“I, um—yeah, I mean—she—looks—”

Steve couldn’t string a sentence together and everyone in the room could see it—you, Robin and even her parents.

“She looks—yeah—she looks beautiful.”

Beautiful.

Steve had called you beautiful.

That word now lived somewhere deep in your ribcage and didn’t want to leave.

It was all you could think about as you sat in the passenger seat of Steve’s Beamer. Robin’s voice was almost completely drowned out as you repeated the way he had said it over and over again in your head. The way he had looked at you—

But arriving at Steve’s party felt like a bucket of ice cold water being poured over you. 

Because you were painfully overdressed.

And that warmth that the word beautiful had given you almost entirely disappeared.

You felt as though everyone’s eyes were on you, wondering why the fuck you had turned up to Steve’s birthday party in a dress like that. And honestly—you were beginning to wonder the exact same thing.

“C’mon,” Steve says to you and Robin, his hand finding your lower back—just that little bit lower than he usually would—while the other gently pries the gift bag from your hand. “Let’s get you both a drink.”

You let Steve guide you into the kitchen because it was a welcome distraction from the people who were looking at you. Because having one of Steve’s large hands resting on the small of your back meant that you weren’t thinking of anything else.

But he doesn’t keep it there for long, much to your dismay. Steve withdraws his hand as he busies himself with making both you and Robin a vodka cranberry. You don’t even notice how he spills a little bit of the cranberry juice when he chances another glance at you because you were too busy trying to pull down the hem of your dress.

Once Steve had made your drinks, you wasted absolutely no time in taking a generous swig as some sort of liquid confidence. 

Steve raises a brow but says nothing.

“I’ll just take this up to my room,” Steve says, holding up your gift bag with a small smile. “Thank you. I’ll open it later when things aren’t so—crazy.”

You nod and force a smile, the uncomfortableness you were beginning to feel seeping into your gut as you watch Steve head upstairs.

“Why the fuck did I do this?” You ask Robin almost as soon as Steve disappears, your knuckles turning wet as you grip the edge of the countertop. “What possessed me to do this, Robin? I look so fucking stupid—”

Robin’s eyes widen as she sees the genuine panic in your eyes—the embarrassment, the worry reflected there. She puts her solo cup down and steps toward you, resting a gentle hand on your shoulder.

“You don’t look stupid, okay? I promise—”

“—everyone else is wearing jeans, Robin. I look so out of place—”

“—so? Did you or did you not see Steve’s reaction to the dress? He nearly crashed into like ten cars on the way here because he kept looking over at you.”

“It wasn’t ten cars—” Your face feels hot as you say it, something tightening in your gut as you remember feeling Steve’s eyes on you in the car, the way Robin had kept yelling at him to keep his eyes on the road.

“—stop deflecting or I will drag you upstairs and lock both you and Steve in his bedroom until you both stop being idiots.”

No matter how much the thought of being locked in a bedroom with Steve Harrington made your core ache with need, you knew it wasn’t the grand declaration of feelings that you had always envisioned for you and Steve.

And so, you try to enjoy yourself despite how uncomfortable you feel. It seems to work—at least for a little while.

You dance with Robin, laugh with a few of Steve’s friends and all the while, you keep catching Steve looking at you. But still—he doesn’t make a move. He doesn’t even ask you to dance when Heaven Is A Place On Earth starts to play like he usually would at a party. You tried not to let doubt creep in, tried not to listen to the small voice in the back of your head telling you that Steve clearly didn’t feel the same. That the months and months of flirting, of lingering touches and almost something moments were simply figments of your imagination. That buying a dress to try and encourage Steve to finally make a move was an act of desperation that Steve—another everyone else around him—pitied. 

You were trying not to listen to those voices, instead remembering the way Steve had looked at you, the fact he had called you beautiful and meant it.

But it all came crashing down when you left Steve and Robin to grab yourself a drink.

You still feel eyes on you as you walk into the kitchen. You told yourself it didn’t matter, that you just needed to wait it out until the party died down a little. You just needed to wait until then to—

You don’t register the sound of shouting right away. In fact, you were so in your own head that you barely hear it at all. 

But you certainly register the warm, sticky liquid suddenly drenching the front of your dress.

“Oh shit,” the guy who had spilled his beer all over you laughs as embarrassment and humiliation stir so deep in your gut that it makes you feel physically sick. “Sorry about that babe, want me to help you clean up?”

The way his friends laugh loudly at the suggestion makes you suspect that the beer spilling had been anything but accidental and that this guy was anything but sorry. 

You try to conjure up a quick, self-assured response. Try to conjure up the nerve to call these guys—who you were sure had just stumbled into the party without invitation—a bunch of assholes. But all you could focus on was trying not to burst into tears as shame, embarrassment and humiliation all swirled sickeningly in your gut. You felt it turn into something so all consuming that for a moment, you couldn’t move—didn’t want to move. All you could hear was the guys’ laughter, the beer that soaked your dress beginning to drip down your thigh and a faint ringing in your ears—

“Hey, hey, what happened here?”

You didn’t think that there would ever be a time that your stomach would turn horribly at the sound of Steve’s voice—at his hand on the small of your back, at the concern in his eyes as he looked at you.

You open your mouth to reply but no words come out—because your eyes became glassy and panic began to rise in your chest.

“Little black dress over here spilled her drink,” one of the guys lie easily to Steve as a smug smile tugs on the corner of his lips.

“That—that’s not what h-happened,” you say finally in a shaky voice. “I-I didn’t spill anything, that guy—”

“—clearly she’s had one too many,” the guy who had spilled his drink over you interrupts. “Should probably take that dress off, sweetheart. You’re pretty wet”

You don’t hear Steve’s pissed off response. In fact, you don’t hear anything at all—just the ringing in your ears as you finally look down at the front of your dress. You see how it was soaked through almost entirely, the wet fabric clinging to your skin and leaving absolutely nothing to the imagination. 

And that was the moment that the dam finally broke. 

You don’t think as you push Steve aside, your body in autopilot as you rush out of the kitchen where you collide into Robin. You barely hear her as she asks you what had happened, why your dress was drenched and stank of beer and why you were crying. You don’t say anything, not even glancing her way as you slip into the crowd gathered in the living room, slipping through the mass of bodies before heading up the stairs. Your hands don’t stop shaking until you stumble into Steve’s large, family bathroom.

You slam the door shut behind you as sobs wracked through your body. Hot tears of shame and embarrassment spill down your cheeks as you sink down to the floor. Your back against the freestanding bath as you tug your knees close to your chest to try and find some semblance of comfort. But none came—all that lived inside you was humiliation and shame. 

You wondered why you had even bothered. It was so clear to you now—because if Steve hadn’t made a move on you after months of flirting back and forth, months of touches and glances that felt anything but friendly—then maybe you and everyone else around you had been wrong. That sure—maybe Steve was attracted to you but not enough to risk your friendship, not enough to want you the way you wanted him.

You felt so stupid for hoping that he wanted more and you felt even more stupid for coming up with this plan that was dripping with desperation. Everyone at the party could see it—the way you had dressed up specifically for Steve. They also probably saw the way he had kept you at arms length all evening too and the shame returned in a fresh wave of sobs that you couldn’t hold back even if you had tried.

The sound of a gentle knock on the bathroom door makes you look up just in time to see Steve slipping into the bathroom.

You had the urge to yell at him to leave but instead, you let out another small sob before burying your face into your knees.

“Oh, please don’t cry,” Steve soothes you gently, sinking down onto the bathroom floor beside you and placing a cautious hand on your arm, thumb rubbing soothing circles into your skin. “Please don’t cry because of those assholes.”

You wish you were simply crying because of those assholes and not the mix of emotions you were feeling. The humiliation of the past three minutes, the embarrassment of being the girl so desperate for Steve Harrington’s attention that she wore a dress that she could barely afford and the almost crippling fear that Steve didn’t actually feel the same way, that you had made a fool out of yourself for being so certain that he had. 

“It—it’s not j-just ab-about those a-assholes, Steve,” you tell him, hiccuping slightly as you force yourself to look at him. You almost wish you hadn’t because those big hazel eyes of his were looking at you with such kindness and concern that it very nearly split you open.

Steve blinks, brows pulled together in slight confusion as he looks back at you, his other hand finding home on your shoulder and squeezing reassuringly.

“What do you mean? What else is this about?”

You knew you should lie. You knew it wasn’t the time nor the place. It was his birthday party and his bathroom should be the very last place to have this conversation. Not only that but you stank of beer, you were incredibly upset and tethering on the edge of tipsy.

But that was also why you couldn’t stop yourself.

“This stupid f-fucking dr-dress,” you sob out, feeling utterly pathetic as tears keep falling down your cheeks with no sign of stopping.

Steve looks perhaps even more confused, eyes shifting down to your dress and the way the glittering material was almost a second skin, the way he had a clear view down your cleavage and the way the tops of your thighs were exposed. Steve swallows, pulling his bottom lip between his teeth for a moment before he looks back at your face.

“Why?” He asks you gently. “You look fucking beautiful, even if you’re covered in beer.”

It was supposed to make you laugh, you know it from the way the corners of his lips curl upwards in amusement.

But you don’t laugh, instead you shake your head and let out another loud sob.

“Be-because I-I wore it for you and y-you don’t e-even care,” you stutter out, the words falling from your lips before you could even think about stopping them. “I-I feel s-so stupid and n-now it-it’s ruined and—”

“Wait, wait, wait—” Steve hushes you, his fingertips pressing into skin before one hand lifts to gently cup your jaw. “You—you wore it…for me?”

It was only then that you realised what you had told him, that you realised just how honest you had been. You think briefly about lying right to his face, telling him that you were joking and to forget all about it. But it was Steve’s thumb gently rubbing along your jaw that had you nodding before you could stop yourself.

“Yeah,” you admit quietly with a small sniffle. “To—I-I don’t know, impress you or m-make you s-see me di-differently. I told you—it was stupid—”

“Not stupid,” Steve assures with a gentle smile, another gentle caress of your skin that left you feeling a little lightheaded and your stomach tightening in a way you didn’t want to think about. “You just—you don’t need a dress like that to impress me or for me to see you. I already do.”

You blink, tears sticking to your lashes as you look back at Steve with your lips parted.

“B-but—but you’ve never—”

“—I know,” Steve says quickly, his other hand resting on your knee as he shifts that little bit closer to you. “Trust me, I know. I was—I was waiting for the right moment, I guess. Well, that’s what I told myself anyway because there were so many right moments where I should have told but you didn’t because I was—scared, honestly. Scared that I had just imagined that you liked me back, scared that I wouldn’t do it right and then you’d want nothing to do with me.”

You laugh a little at that because the notion of not wanting anything to do with Steve was so ridiculous that you couldn’t help but laugh.

“That’s almost as stupid as me b-buying a dress just for your attention,” you say with a small smile and a quiet sniffle.

Steve smiles and then his eyes shift back down to your dress and you watch as he swallows, his hand on your knee squeezing gently before he seems to force himself to look back at your face.

“Then we can be stupid together,” Steve murmurs affectionately and the way he says it, you can’t help but smile right along with him. There was a moment where you just look at each other. His big, hazel eyes keep yours hostage before they flit down to glance at your lips for a brief, barely there moment.

Steve clears his throat, looking away as he asks, “you uh, you want me to grab you something to wear while you have a shower so you don’t smell like a brewery all night?”

You nod, looking down at your dress and grimacing before looking back up at Steve with a small, grateful smile. “Please.”

Steve smiles back at you before he gives your knee a little final squeeze before getting to his feet and holding out his hand for you to take.

You try not to think about how his hand feels against yours as he pulls you up to your feet. You notice immediately how Steve doesn’t let go of your hand. Instead, he pulls you just that little bit closer and leans down to whisper in your ear. “The dress is incredible by the way, truly. You look so fucking good. I almost got hard right in the middle of Robin’s living room when I first saw you.”

You hadn’t been expecting it, not at all and the words go straight to your core. A current as strong as electricity flowing through you and making your cunt pulse with need for the man in front of you as he pulls away from you with a slightly smug smile.

“Steve!” You choke out, half laughing, half flustered, your face so hot that you wouldn’t be surprised to find steam rising from your skin. 

“What?” Steve asks you with an innocent smile. “You said that you wanted my attention and you certainly got it. Why do you think I’ve tried to keep a respectable distance all night? Because I’m trying my best not to embarrass myself at my own party.”

You try to laugh but you’re too busy trying to not think about Steve and what was hiding beneath those fucking jeans. You would be lying if you said you hadn’t allowed yourself a good look at the crotch of his jeans from time to time. Mostly because the imprint of his cock against the denim was near impossible to ignore.

“Couldn’t be more embarrassing than me showing up to your party in a ‘fuck me’ dress when literally everyone else is dressed normal.”

The words came out before you could really think of what you were saying.

Steve chokes out a laugh, the tips of his ears reddening in a way that gives you a fluttery feeling in your stomach and makes you feel warm inside.

“A ‘fuck me’ dress?” Steve repeats with another quick glance down at the dress, at the way the damp fabric was clinging to your breasts. “Pretty accurate description.”

You swallow thickly and you weren’t sure if you could take anymore of his teasing, your panties were dampening at an alarming rate and your heart was surely beating its way out of your chest.

“Let me grab you those clothes, yeah?” Steve suggests before you could embarrass yourself any further. “And I’ll wash that ‘fuck me’ dress for you too.”

Your face warms but you manage to crack a smile. 

“That’s funny,” you mutter as you watch him step away from you, your body still thrumming from the proximity to him. You register the distant sounds of the party on the floor beneath you and guilty twists in your gut. You wanted to tell him you were sorry for pulling him away from his own birthday party, sorry for potentially ruining his evening but Steve slips out of the bathroom before you could do so.

Now that you are alone, you try to comprehend the last ten minutes. But it was proven difficult when your heart was beating so fast, when your hands shook as you tried to unzip your beer soaked dress and when there was an intense ache between your legs that made everything else around you feel fuzzy.

You manage to peel off your dress, letting it pool around you at your feet before you catch a glimpse of yourself in the bathroom mirror—at the dark lace panties you had put on in the hopes that Steve would be the one undressing you. You took those off too in case the beer scent also lingered on them, noticing the way your panties stick momentarily to your puffy lips due to how wet you were and something hot pulses through your body at the sight of your slick coating your panties.

A sharp knock on the bathroom door pulls you back into reality.

“You decent?” Steve calls to you through the door as you scramble to find a towel to cover yourself with.

“Yep!” You shout back after wrapping the towel around your bare body, kicking your soaked panties beneath the vanity unit as the bathroom door opens.

Steve walks in with a small pile of clothes in arms but he very nearly drops them at the sight of you wrapped in one of his soft cotton towels.

You watch as for the second time that night, his eyes travel up and down the length of your body, his lips parted and wet as he looks as though he wanted nothing more than to gently tug the towel from your body. There was a large part of you that would have gladly let him do so. 

“Here,” Steve finally says, placing the clothes onto the countertop and forcing his eyes to remain on your face. “I got you a t-shirt and those shorts you left here the other week.”

“Thank you,” you say with a small, grateful smile. You can’t help but notice the way Steve’s cheeks had turned red and you find your own face warming.

Steve clears his throat, eyes flickering away from you to your dress and your bra laying on the tiled floor. “I’ll um, wash these in the basement,” Steve tells you, bending down to pick up the discarded clothes and determinedly not looking at your legs as he does so. 

You nod, feeling too breathless, too aroused to even form a thought as you watch Steve’s knuckles turn white when he grips the fabric of your dress tightly in his hands. 

You look at each other again, Steve looking at you in a way he hadn’t allowed himself to do before he clenches his jaw and he turns to leave.

You nearly stop him. You nearly reach out to grab his arm so he wouldn’t leave you, nearly call out his name and ask him to stay. But you don’t—instead you watch him leave the bathroom with your clothes and you let the ache he leaves behind fill you.

You take your time in the shower, lathering the vanillary body wash that smelt like Steve over you and as the smell of beer washes down the drain. Your muscles relax beneath the hot water and you have to ignore the urge to let your fingers trail between your legs to ease the ache there.

You step out of the shower, water dripping from your body before you glance over at the clothes Steve had brought you. You feel that warmth in your stomach heat up when you imagine yourself wearing Steve’s t-shirt. When you eventually do pull it on over your head after gently drying your body, you’re hit with the smell of him that seems to linger on the material.

It made you feel dizzy with want, the tension that had been building between you and Steve all evening not lessening even in Steve’s absence. 

You retrieve your soaked panties from beneath the vanity unit and pull them on, along with your shorts before stepping out of the bathroom.

The party downstairs continues and you find that there wasn’t a part of you that wanted to go and rejoin the party. And so, you head towards Steve’s bedroom, figuring you could just wait out the rest of the party in there.

But as you push open Steve’s bedroom door, you’re greeted by a truly heavenly sight.

Steve was standing near the end of his bed, in the middle of peeling off his shirt. You got a glimpse of his soft stomach, of his happy trail that kept you up at night, of various moles and freckles that were scattered over his skin and—finally the sight of the dark, coarse hair that covered his chest. He was fucking beautiful and you barely register him turning around to look at you.

“Hi,” he says by way of greeting, making zero attempt to cover up but you notice the way his cheeks flush slightly pink. 

“Hey,” you say, hating how breathless you already sound.

Steve’s eyes shift down your body again, his gaze washing you in a rush of heat and want that you couldn’t control. You see the way his eyes linger for a moment too long on your hardened nipples that could be seen through the fabric of his t-shirt and you watch as he licks his lips slowly before looking back at your face.

“Good shower?”

You laugh because the tension between you was palpable. You could see the way Steve was trying to be normal and the way he was failing miserably.

“Great shower,” you tell him. “Incredible water pressure.”

Steve snorts lightly with laughter and you take a tentative step closer to him, closing his bedroom door behind you while your heart pounds in your chest.

“Robin kicked those guys out by the way,” he tells you, watching you carefully as you move towards him. “I would have done it but I needed to see if you were okay.”

You smile a little, pausing a foot away from him. “Glad you did.”

“Me too,” Steve says softly. “Made me realise how much of an idiot with the whole—you know, been waiting for the perfect moment to be honest with you when I should have just—I should have just told you.”

Your breath hitches, your eyes flickering over his face so that you didn’t miss a single facial expression. “Told me what?” You ask quietly.

Steve takes a deep breath before he closes the distance between you, lifting both of his large hands to cup your jaw gently between his palms, holding you like you were made of something more precious than gold.

“Told you that—that you’re not only my best friend but you’re my favourite person in the world. The one who I can’t go a day without seeing smile or hearing you laugh. The person who thinks I’m funny when I’m clearly not and the one who seems to know exactly what to say when things get too loud. The one who doesn’t just make me want to be a better man but the person who makes me a better man. The one who has seen my best times and my worst times and still—still sees the best in me even when I don’t. The person who I—who I love. Who I love whether you’re wearing a ‘fuck me’ dress or one of my old t-shirts. The person who I really hope isn’t too mad at me for making you wait while I tried to find a perfect moment.”

You were rendered speechless, words completely failing you as you stare back at Steve with wide eyes, trying to process every word he had just said.

“Was that too much or—”

You don’t let Steve finish his sentence because you decide that you couldn’t wait even a second longer. Because he loved you. He loved you, he loved you, he loved you—

“I love you too,” you tell him breathlessly as your hands plant themselves on his chest before you lean in and finally press your lips against his.

For a moment, Steve does nothing at all. He seems to freeze entirely, his brain short circuiting at the fact you were kissing him. But as your fingers gently brush through the hair that covered his chest, he seemed to finally come to his senses.

Steve groaned—actually groaned—against your lips as one of the hands still cupping your jaw gently threaded into your hair, his fingers curling at the back of your neck as he kisses you back with a sense of urgency he couldn’t seem to control.

The kiss was messy, spit-slick and desparate—months and months of tension finally snapping as Steve used his other hand to tug you closer by your waist, his mouth still moving against yours as though he wouldn’t ever be able to get enough.

Neither of you pulled away—the kiss moving from messy to slow and reverent, your lips gliding wetly against each other in a way that had your pussy throbbing. A small whimper escapes you before you could stop it because your body was thrumming with want.

Steve pulls away only to whisper your name before he dives back in. His hand in your hair titling your head back so that he could deepen the kiss, his tongue gently coaxing your lips apart in a way that had your stomach tightening deliciously as he licks into the wet heat of your mouth.

“Fuck,” Steve murmurs against your lips as his hand in your hair finds home on your waist. The other moves to rest on your hips where Steve squeezes the flesh before tugging you closer until you are flush against him. 

You gasp against his lips when you feel just how fucking hard he was through the denim of his jeans and any intelligent thought left you as you moaned against his mouth.

“Shit, baby,” Steve practically whimpers as he pulls away to press a trail of wet kisses down your neck. “You’ve fucking ruining me already.”

You let out a breathless laugh that turns into a moan, your head tilting back as Steve’s tongue glides over the skin of your neck, still a little damp from the shower.

“Did you use my body wash, pretty girl?” Steve whispers against your skin, his hands sliding down to grip the globes of your ass and failing to suppress a groan. “Cause I can smell it on you.”

“Maybe,” you gasp out, your chest heaving as your eyelids flutter shut at Steve’s touch.

Steve hums against your skin before gently sucking on a spot on your neck that had you squirming against him.

“So fucking sensitive,” he murmurs, squeezing your ass again before one hand moves to the hem of his t-shirt that you were wearing—fingers just brushing the skin beneath in a silent question.

You lift your arms in response and Steve waits no time in peeling off the t-shirt.

But the moment he sees the sight of your bare breasts, all bravado he had possessed moments ago seems to leave him.

“Holy fuck—” he breathes out, his own chest heaving as his eyes feast on you. “You’re so—fuck—I can’t believe we’re finally doing this. We’re finally—holy shit—”

“—Steve,” you interrupt him with a faint smile and a finger over his lips. “It’s just me.”

Steve smiles back at you, pressing a kiss to your finger before you pull it away from him. “That’s exactly why this is—why I’m losing my shit right now I mean—fuck, look at you.”

The words go straight through your body like molten lava and you have to squeeze your thighs together to try and ease the tension between your legs. 

And Steve—he fucking notices.

“Fuck it—”

Steve’s lips were back on yours and you could barely think straight as the kiss became almost frantic, his hands roaming your body greedily as he sank down onto the bed, pulling you down with him. His hands find your hips before he tugs you down onto his lap, your thighs bracketing his as you straddle him. 

The position presses your clothed core against the bulge in his jeans and neither of you could suppress a moan at the contact. 

“Please,” Steve asks, eyes half lidded and glazed over with want as he looks up at you. “Please, pretty girl. I need—”

You knew what he needed without him even needing to finish his sentence. You press yourself more firmly against his bulge and you swear you could feel every hard ridge of him through his jeans. The friction was dizzying and you could barely stop yourself from rolling your hips against him. Steve lets out a whimper, fingers squeezing the flesh of your hips before his lips find yours again.

The kiss was messy, little wet sounds filling the space between you as Steve’s hips bucked up instinctively, grinding his hard cock against your core. You were embarrassingly wet at this point as Steve encouraged the movement of your hips with his hands, the wet patch in your panties seeping through your shorts. You were almost sure that Steve could practically smell how aroused you were at this point, but you found that you didn’t care.

You could have come from the friction alone, but both you and Steve knew that wasn’t what you wanted.

“Steve,” you gasp, heat burning through your body as you look down at him. “Touch me, please.”

Who was he to deny you such a request?

You let out a small squeal as Steve wraps his arms around your waist, standing up for a brief moment before he lowers you back down onto his bed.

“Anything for you, baby,” Steve tells you before he tugs both your shorts and your panties down your legs.

“Fuck, baby—”

It was the only intelligent thing Steve could think to say when you were finally laid bare for him. You look back at him and you find that there wasn’t a part of you that felt nervous or self conscious with the confidence his gaze gave you. In fact, you found your thighs widening instinctively as he could see the mess he had caused between your legs—the way your folds were coated with arousal, slick dripping down onto his bedsheets beneath you and how swollen and desperate for attention your clit was.

“—you’re fucking beautiful,” Steve finally tells you as his fingers brush over the skin of your inner thigh, watching in awe as goosebumps erupt over the skin at his touch. “S’fucking beautiful. I could fucking cum just by looking at you, pretty girl.”

Your cunt pulses with need and you swear you see Steve’s cock twitch beneath his jeans.

“But I’m gonna take care of you first, yeah?” Steve murmurs, his fingers ghosting over the skin of your thighs before they glide through your wetness.

That first, direct touch of his fingertips against your slick folds made you whimper from relief.

“S’fucking wet,” Steve murmurs, his lips parting as his eyes filt down to watch how your wetness now coats his fingers. “Drenched for me already, aren’t you sweet girl?”

You nod frantically, eyes squeezing shut as two of Steve’s thick fingers glide through your slick, gathering it and then smearing it over your clit in a circular motion that had your back bowing off his mattress.

“I got you, baby,” Steve murmurs and you jolt as you suddenly feel his breath hot against your inner thigh. “Don’t worry, baby. I got you.”

You nod, parting your lips as you begin to take a deep breath—but you are cut off by your own, loud moan as he dips one thick finger inside of you.

“That’s it,” Steve murmurs, pressing another kiss to your inner thigh as he begins to pump his finger in and out of you, watching every trace of pleasure flit across your face as he adds a second finger. “That’s it, pretty girl. Look at you, soaking my fingers so well.”

You were a mess already and he had barely even begun. You were so fucking wet that the pump of his fingers in and out of your soaked pussy were causing a schlick-schlick-schlick sound to fill the room, mixing with your moans as liquid heat coursed throughout your entire body. 

“Fuck, you’re so fucking pretty like this,” Steve tells you, curling his fingers against your front wall as he watched you in utter awe. “S’fucking pretty, baby. I swear.”

Your fingers curled into the sheets beneath you, a pleasure so intense coursing through your body that you were surely soon to forget your own damn name. Your slick was dripping down his wrist, onto his sheets and Steve couldn’t help but breathe in your heady scent, his nose nudging against your clit as he did so.

“Fucking hell,” he groans out, scissoring his fingers gently inside of you. “Sweet girl, you smell so fucking good. I need to taste you, I need to—”

He doesn’t finish his sentence because one buck upwards of your hips and Steve finally takes the hint. His lips seal themselves over your aching clit while he continues to fuck two of his fingers into your needy hole. And the moan he lets out at that very first taste of you? It was divine.

Steve Harrington wasted no time in giving you exactly what he knew you needed. His lips began to suck your clit gently, his thick fingers continuing to fuck you even as your one of your hands found its way into his hair and tugged at it harshly. If anything, the mix of pain and pleasure spurred Steve on, his fingers curling inside of you again as he started to alternate between giving soft licks to your clit and sucking it between his lips.

It was almost overwhelming, the deep penetration on his fingers and stimulation on your clit was making pleasure build up so intensely you were close to tears.

“C’mon, baby,” Steve murmurs against yours, his own hips rutting against the mattress but his focus remains on you and your pleasure and nothing else. “I got you. I got you.”

Your thighs tremble around his head, your head thrown back against his mattress as you let out a moan so loud that the partygoers downstairs were sure to hear it. Your orgasm was so intense that your entire body seemed to be overtaken by a white hot pleasure that you felt in every damn nerve, your vision whiting out briefly all because Steve Harrington sent you to another universe with his fingers and tongue. 

He doesn’t let up, only withdrawing his fingers so he could replace them with his tongue, slurping up every last drop of your arousal and groaning against you as he does so. 

You were still shaking, still sensitive and still coming down from the most intense orgasm that a man had ever given you and yet—there wasn’t a part of you that wanted to stop. 

The fingers that were still in his hair gently tug him away from your cunt that was dripping with a mix of his saliva and your essence. He groans as you pull him away, eyes half lidded with need as he looks at you. Steve’s lips are swollen, wet and he had never looked so fucking handsome.

“That was—”

You silence him by grabbing his fingers—the ones that had just been inside of you, the ones still glistening with your slick—and raise them to your lips. Steve realises what you were about to do a millisecond before it happens and he could not contain the groan that leaves his lips as you take his fingers into your mouth and suck.

Steve had surely died and gone to heaven. That could be the only explanation as he watches you lick his fingers clean, your eyes not leaving his for even a second until you release them with a wet pop.

“Take your jeans off and fuck me, Harrington,” you tell him.

Steve Harrington did not need telling twice. In his haste to peel off his jeans, he stumbles but manages to catch himself at the edge of the bed. 

He turns around when he hears you stifle a laugh.

“Don’t you dare laugh at me, baby,” Steve tells you with flushed cheeks. “That was completely purposeful.”

But you don’t respond, because you were too busy staring at the outline of his hard cock through his boxers. Even though the dark material, you could see how fucking big he was and it made your mouth water. 

Steve notices—because of course he was—and he wastes no time in pulling down his boxers to free his cock.

“Oh my—”

You had heard rumours before that Steve was big, that his size sometimes intimated the women he had slept with in the past. But nothing could have prepared you for just how big and how beautiful his cock was. It was so big and heavy that it made a loud, audible slapping sound against his soft stomach as he freed himself. It wasn’t just long but it was thick and slightly curved in a way that made your cunt clench around nothing. The ruddy tip was glistening and already leaking with precum and you watch as a dribble of it slips over his veiny shaft.

Steve, seemingly taking you openly staring at his cock as worry, hesitates before joining you back on the bed, bracing his body over yours with his elbows as he looks carefully at your face. “We can do just the tip if you—”

“—what?” You ask him, slightly confused as you look back up at him, your hands gently rest on his shoulders. “No, no, no—I want all of you, Steve. I was just…looking.”

Steve blinks, his cheeks reddening before he smiles down at you. “Impressed?”

You smile and your heart feels warm at the way, even now, Steve was able to make you laugh. Because no matter how much your relationship had changed over the past twenty minutes and how much it would change after, the foundation of your friendship would always remain standing. That Steve loved and respected you as a person first, that he always would and that intimacy wouldn’t change that. 

“Depends if you know what to do with it,” you tell him with a teasing smile.

Steve rolls his eyes a little but you see the way the corners of his mouth twitch as he tries not to smile.

“We’ll see about that,” Steve murmurs, wrapping a hand around his length and stroking himself once before he guides the bulbous head of his cock to your entrance. “You sure?” He asks, despite the fact he was so hard that it was nearly painful, despite the fact his dick was pulsing in his hand from need—he needed one last bit of reassurance that he wouldn’t be too much for you. 

You nod, your eyes softening as you look up at him, one of your hands lifting to cup his cheek gently. Steve leans into your touch instinctively and the way he sought out your touch makes you feel almost invincible.

“I’m sure,” you whisper back. “I trust you, I love you and I’m sure.”

Steve’s resolve seemed to crumble at that, his eyes shining as he tells you, “I love you too.”

His lips found yours in a kiss that was surprisingly soft given the position you were in, given what you were about to do. You melt into it, your fingers gliding into his hair as Steve groans against your lips, carefully positioning himself back at your entrance. Your legs widen to accommodate him as you continue to kiss him as though he was your only source of oxygen. Steve’s brows are furrowed as he kisses you back, making sure to go slow as he finally—finally—pushes the fat head of his cock inside of you, slipping into your tight heat inch by inch.

The stretch was overwhelming—it almost felt as though he was splitting you open with his cock but fuck, it was incredible. You couldn’t pull but pull away from Steve’s lips so that you could look at where look your bodies were now joined, the way you were stretched obscenely around him.

“You okay?” Steve asks when he was almost buried to the hilt, his eyes not leaving your face as he searches for even a hint of pain. “Baby, please say you’re—”

“—I’m good,” you say breathlessly, your eyes flickering upwards to meet his. “Really, Steve. I’m good.”

Steve nods and then swallows before he presses forward, until his hips are flush against yours and you feel the tip of his cock hit your cervix.

“Fuuuccck,” Steve exhales, pressing his forehead against yours as the arm that was propping himself over you shakes with the effort of holding himself back. “You feel—fuck—you feel incredible. I swear, you were made for my cock, sweet girl.”

The words make you feel warm and your cunt flutters around his cock, making Steve groan out. You hook one of your legs over his hip and arch your back, trying to encourage him to move.

“Steve, please.”

It was exactly the encouragement he needed. With a groan of your name and sweet kiss to your forehead, Steve starts to move. He moves his hips back until only the bulbous tip of his cock remains inside of you before he pushes himself back home, setting a deep rhythm that has your nails biting into the skin of his shoulders.

The wet sounds from the mix of your juices quickly fill the room, along with both yours and Steve’s moans as Steve grabs your other thigh to hook it over hip. You whimper out his name as his cock nuzzles against your cervix and Steve couldn’t help himself anymore. He pulls out almost entirely before slamming back into you. And again. And again and again and again until his cock was continuously slamming in and out of you, the sound of skin slapping against skin so obscene it made your head spin.

“Fuck, Steve!” You mewl, your breasts bouncing with every deep thrust of Steve’s cock. “You feel so—”

“—I know, baby. I know,” Steve grunts as his balls slap against your skin from the force of his thrusts. “You trust me, yeah?”

You nod frantically, pleasure coursing through every damn nerve in your body as Steve shifts his position. You whimper out in protest before you watch as he gently lifts your thighs to rest over his shoulders.

“Feel good?” Steve asks as he leans over you, his cock now hitting so deep inside of you that you swear you saw stars. 

You nod because no words could come out as you felt him in every damn pore in your body. Your body buzzes with anticipation as you expect him to move, but he doesn’t. Not yet.

“Words, pretty girl,” he tells you, two fingers gently gripping your chin. “I need words.”

You whimper out because you were throbbing with need and could barely think straight, let alone form a sentence.

“Steve, please—”

“Baby, no,” Steve murmurs, dipping his head down to brush his lips across your cheek. “Need you to feel me if it’s good. C’mon, sweet girl.”

“Yes,” you manage to gasp. “I feel—I feel really good.”

“Good,” Steve smiles before he rolls his hips forward. The tip of his cock hits that spot inside of you that had you squirming beneath him, clenching around him so hard that Steve’s fingers grips into the flesh of your thigh before he pulls out of you just to slam back in all over again.

“I love you,” Steve tells you as he sets a rhythm that has your toes curling. “I love you so fucking much, baby. I’m so fucking lucky.”

He was babbling nonsense as his cock drilled into you like it was the last time, not the first. You were a mess of moans and whimpers beneath him, your sobbing cunt convulsing around him with each and every thrust. You could hardly think straight because nothing existed beside Steve and the way his cock was pumping in and out of you.

“You look so fucking beautiful,” Steve tells you, eyes heavy from the intense pleasure he was feeling, from the effort of holding back his own release so it wasn’t over before you finished. “Taking my cock so well, baby. Look at you fucking taking it.”

And you do—your eyes shifting down to watch as Steve’s thick cock disappears inside of you, watch the way you suck him back in like you never wanted him to leave.

It was almost too much, every part of your body was singing with pleasure and all you could moan out was Steve’s name and the fact you loved him and—

Your second orgasm crashes over you like a tidal wave. It was somehow more intense than the first, nearly earth shattering in the way it left you clinging to Steve as though he was the only thing keeping you tethered to the earth. You clenched tightly around his cock and it was all Steve needed, his release following yours only seconds later. He slams into you a final time and you swear you feel his heavy cock pulsing inside of you before he comes hard. Ropes of thick, hot cum flood your spent pussy, painting your walls with his release as your name fell from his lips like it was the only word he knew.

He doesn’t pull out right away and you don’t want him to, instead—your lips find each other's and the kiss was sweet and tender and everything you had ever wanted and more.

Steve eventually pulls out of you after a few moments to clean the mess between your legs with his boxers. You were tender but he was so gentle and loving that it made your heart thump loud in your chest.

When he returns to the bed, his arms wrap themselves around you and you waste no time in melting into him, the party downstairs entirely forgotten as you lay in Steve’s arms.

“I take it we’re a little more than best friends now?” He asks you quietly with a trace of amusement in his voice.

“I think we’ve always been more than best friends, Steve.”

Steve smiles at that before pressing a gentle but firm to your forehead because you were right—you had always been more than best friends and you always would be.

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Just as Steve deepens the kiss—his large hands on either side of your neck gently titling your head back to coax your lips apart with his tongue—the sound of someone gasping in surprise rips the two of you apart.

Please don’t let it be Dustin. Please don’t let it be Dustin.

But as you pull away from Steve, your face burning and Steve looking a little dazed, you quickly realise that it wasn’t Dustin who had caught you—it was Lucas.

“Um, hi Sinclair,” Steve says by way of greeting, trying to act casual and as though you hadn’t been making out merely seconds ago.

Lucas’ eyes dart from Steve, to you and back again.

“Oh, Dustin is gonna flip—”

“—you can’t tell Henderson!” Steve insists, eyes widening in slight panic. “He’ll kill me—”

“—maybe you should have thought about it before you started making out with his sister—”

“—it was just a kiss—”

“—that’s a bunch of bull—”

“—Lucas, please don’t tell Dustin,” you plead with Lucas, cutting him off mid sentence so you didn’t have to hear him and Steve bicker back and forth a moment longer.

“Why not?” Lucas asks. “He deserves to know, this isn’t fair on him, you know? Besides, the party doesn’t keep secrets from each other. I have to tell him.”

The guilt stirs in your gut because you knew Lucas was right. You knew not being honest with Dustin wasn’t fair on him but you were trying to be sensitive around your brother’s current state.

Steve glances at you, seeing the torn expression on your face and his hand twitches, as though he was desperate to reach for yours.

“Just give us a few days, yeah?” Steve asks Lucas. “We’ll tell him. We just need to figure out how to do it gently.”

Lucas looks unconvinced and you decide to plead with him instead.

“Please Lucas?” You press him gently before he could open his mouth to tell you no. “Th—this isn’t a bit of fun for us and we want to tell Dustin properly.”

Your eyes are on Lucas but you could feel Steve looking at you at your words. You try not to think too much about it.

“Wait—you guys are like…serious?” Lucas asks.

You feel your face warming and you force yourself not to look at Steve at that moment.

“Yeah,” Steve says, his hand finding yours, thumb gently rubbing over your skin and making it hard for you to hold back a smile. “We are.”

Lucas looks at Steve for a long moment before finally, he nods. “Okay,” he says, somewhat reluctantly. “Okay, okay. I won’t tell him. But you two should probably stop making out in the basement if you don’t want him to catch you.”

You learned a day later that Lucas Sinclair could not keep a secret.

You were back in the basement of the radio station, planning the next crawl. The basement was full with the entirety of the party present as well as the older kids, Joyce and Hooper. You stand beside Steve, trying to keep a straight face as you listen to Nancy but it was proving difficult when Steve kept nudging his foot against yours.

You hear your name being said and you look up to see Nancy looking at you expectantly.

“What?” You ask, your mind half on the conversation and half on Steve’s arm that was brushing against yours. “Sorry. What did you say, Nance?”

Nancy looks at you, slightly suspicious of the distracted look on your face before she glances back down at the map. “I asked if you and Steve were okay to take the van tonight? We need Dustin to stay here to cover—”

Lucas snorts with laughter and you don’t even have time to send him a warning look before he bursts out, “Oh, they’ll be just fine. They’re just gonna make out the whole time.”

His words were met with complete and utter silence.

Your face was burning and Steve was almost completely lost for words. Lucas seems to realise two seconds too late what he had just let slip and attempts to laugh it off.

“I was kidding! It was just a—”

But nothing gets past Dustin Henderson.

“What are you talking about?” Dustin asks, brows furrowed in confusion as he looks from you to Steve and back again. “Is there something I don’t know about going here or?”

“I um,” Steve begins, looking at you while Robin—who was the only person who knew about you and Steve—struggles to keep a straight face. “I mean he was probably jo—”

“—no, don’t try and bullshit me man, what is Lucas talking about?”

You look up your brother then and you almost see the way he’s putting two and two together. At the way Steve’s body was turned towards yours, how he was looking at you with a soft look of concern on his face. 

“Dustin, I swear we were going to tell you—” You begin but Dustin is quick to cut you off.

“—we?” Dustin asks, nostrils flaring as he looks at Steve. “There’s a we?”

“Can we please focus?” Hopper’s gruff voice cuts in before you or Steve could respond. “There’s more important things that we need to—”

“—you can’t be serious,” Dustin interrupts, clearly no longer caring about the crawl as he glares at both you and Steve. “You and Steve? Seriously?”

“Dustin, could you just—”

But Dustin is already shaking his head, curls bouncing as he walks away from the table without another word to either you or Steve.

Everyone in the room seems to hold their breath as Dustin practically stomps up the basement stairs while you and Steve look at each other. You vaguely register Lucas profusely apologising for running his mouth but you weren’t listening.

“I’ll go after him,” you say to Steve. “I can talk to him and—”

“—no, I’ll go,” Steve insists with a shake of his head. You open your mouth to protest but Steve is already leaning in to press a kiss to your cheek before he follows Dustin up the basement stairs.

“So you and Steve, huh?” Robin asks, trying and failing to seem surprised. “I had no idea! That’s such a surprise!”

Both Nancy and Jonathan laugh in a disbelieving sort of way and even you manage to crack a smile, despite the way your heart was pounding in your chest as you can’t help but imagine the conversation that Steve and your brother were having.

“Alright! Can we focus up now, please?” Hopper calls out, trying to wrangle everyone’s attention back to the mission at hand. “Alright—Wheeler—no Mike, not you—I need you and Buckley to—”

“—I’m just gonna go and check Steve and Dustin are okay,” you interrupt Hopper, ignoring the audible groan of frustration from him as you slip past the group and race up the basement stairs.

You follow the sound of Steve and Dustin’s voices, all the way up the basement stairs and out of the maintenance room where the entrance to the basement was hidden. You’re about to round the corner to head into the kitchen when the sound of Steve’s voices stops you.

“—I promise you man, I’m not just fooling around with her. I wouldn’t do that, especially not to her.”

“Then why would you not tell me? If you were that serious about her—”

“—I was scared, okay? I was—I was scared you wouldn’t handle it well and honestly? I was scared because I hadn’t felt this way about anyone before.”

Your breath hitches and even Dustin is taken aback by Steve’s words.

“Not even Nancy?”

A beat and then—

“Yeah. Not even Nance. With Nance it was—it was constantly worrying if I was doing the right thing, if I was enough. But with your sister—” Steve begins and though you can’t see him, you can hear the smile in his voice. “—she’s the real deal. She’s my favourite person and I was scared that telling everyone about our relationship would burst that bubble or something.”

You bit back a smile as you lean against the wall, your heart feeling fuller at Steve’s admission.

“She’s your favourite person?” Dustin repeats, his voice a little softer now.

“Yeah,” Steve says quietly. “She is.”

You almost step out and into the kitchen but what Dustin asks Steve next keeps you rooted to the spot.

“Do you love her?”

You swallow because three months together meant that you hadn’t yet breached the L word yet with Steve. You knew you loved him—you had known since the very first kiss if you were honest with yourself. But you had never told him that and you couldn’t be sure that Steve was actually in love with you too.

You almost leave, so that you don’t have to hear Steve’s response. In fact, you started to do just that—stepping back towards the stairs that lead back down to the basement when—

“Yeah,” Steve breathes. “I do. I love her.”

Your heart was doing funny things in your chest, things that surely defied science and all because Steve Harrington admitted that he loved you. He loved you, he loved you, he loved you.

“Wow,” you hear Dustin say a few seconds later, after he had digested Steve’s words. “Love. That’s um, that’s big, Steve.”

“It’s kind of hard not to fall in love with her.”

The smile that was beginning to tug on your lips almost hurt at Steve’s words. You had to fight the urge to run toward your boyfriend and kiss him stupid.

“You know if you break her heart that I’ll get Jonathan to beat you up again—”

“—oh c’mon, that was one time, I could totally take Byers again if I—”

“—so as long as you don’t do anything too stupid then—then I guess…I guess I forgive you for keeping it from me.”

“I promise you I won’t,” Steve reassures Dustin. “I’m gonna keep her for as long as she’ll have me. You never know, I might be your brother in law one day—”

“—nevermind, take everything I said back—”

“—too late, I can already see it now. A spring wedding, you can be the ring bearer and—”

You don’t see it but you hear a thumping sound which could only mean Dustin had smacked your boyfriend’s arm to shut him up. And you can’t help yourself, you let out a laugh.

There was silence from the kitchen and your heart thumps as you realise that both Steve and Dustin had heard you. 

Dustin calls out your name and asks, “is that you?”

You squeeze your eyes shut, silently cursing yourself before you respond. “Yeah. It’s me.”

You step out then, heading towards the kitchen where Dustin and Steve were watching you step over the threshold. Dustin looked incredibly amused while Steve had a look of apprehension on his face, likely worried about just how much you had overheard.

“You’re so like mom, you know that? She’s always eavesdropping on my conversations—”

Your face burns at that and you glance quickly at Steve before looking away, “—I wasn’t eavesdropping, Dustin—”

“—you totally were. But whatever, I’m glad you two are happy. Just don’t make out in front of me. I don’t want anymore reasons to go to therapy at my age.”

You let out a choked out sound while the tips of Steve’s ears turn red. Dustin pays no mind to it, slipping past you as he heads towards the basement door with a slight spring in his step.

You don’t speak and neither does Steve. You begin to fiddle with a button on your cardigan while Steve seems suddenly interested in looking out of the kitchen window. 

“So, do you wanna head back down before Hoppers kills us or—”

“—how much did you hear?”

You flex your fingers, the button slipping from your hand as you look over at Steve. He has a carefully measured expression on his face, as though he was bracing himself for the worst.

For a moment, you debate whether or not to lie to him. Whether you should tell him you hadn’t heard much at all but one look in those big, hazel eyes that you loved so much and you couldn’t find it in yourself to lie to him.

“You said I’m your favourite person,” you say finally with a faint smile. “That was sweet.”

Steve swallows nervously, a pink flush creeping up his neck as he looks back at you. “It’s true, you are.” He takes a tentative step closer, his eyes not leaving yours as he asks, “what else did you hear?”

You pretend to think, finding it near impossible to not smile as Steve stands right in front of you, his hands planting themselves on your waist and squeezing affectionately.

“I heard you say that you love me,” you say softly, your eyes flickering over his face.

“Yeah?” Steve murmurs, leaning in until his lips ghosted over your cheek, his breath hot against your skin. “And what did you think about that, baby?”

You exhale a shuddering breath, Steve’s lips placing a tender kiss to your cheek, then another to your forehead, then your nose and finally the very corner of your mouth. The contact makes your entire body shudder.

“I think,” you breathe out, head tilting back instinctively so as to look back at him. “I think it’s a good thing that I love you too.”

You feel Steve’s breathing slow, his hands grip you that little bit tighter and there was a look in his face that you hadn’t seen before.

“Fuck,” he breathes out, barely able to contain the smile on his face, “I love you. I love you so much. I can’t believe—”

He doesn’t even finish his own sentence, his lips sealing over yours in a kiss that leaves you breathless. Your hands find their way into his hair and his pull you flush against him, your mouths moving against each other as though you had all the time in the world.

It was you who had the sense to pull away first—Steve chasing your lips and pressing kiss after kiss there until you were laughing against him.

“Later,” you promise him, placing a finger to his lips to stop him. “We’ve got a crawl to plan.”

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when gator is jealous? oh boy—he makes it known. if he's with you, he'll tell whatever guy is trying to flirt with you to fuck off and he'll slap a hand on your ass for good measure. he'll make it abundantly clear in any way he can that you're his and his alone. you didn’t mind it, honestly. and if he isn't there and you come home and tell him about some guy who had tried to get your number on a girls' night? he'll bend you right over the kitchen countertop and make you forget all about mr. no name at the bar as his thick cock pounds into you from behind. you’ll be moaning out obscenely, the sound of skin slapping and the schlick-schlick-schlick sounds from gator pounding into your soaked pussy filling the kitchen.

teacake is very comfortable in your relationship and doesn’t tend to get jealous. he trusts you implicitly and so, he doesn’t see any reason to be jealous when he knew you were his completely. instead if a guy ever tried to flirt with you in front of him, he’ll just throw an arm around you and have the biggest grin on his face as he says to the guy: "sorry man, she's taken." the closest teacake gets to feeling jealous is when you’re saying how hot a certain celebrity is and he’ll pout and ask, “but i’m hotter, right babe?”

keys doesn't quite know what to do when he feels jealous. he knows you love him and that you only have eyes for him, but sometimes it gets to him. on those nights, he needs to reassurance. he’s usually the big spoon but he’ll ask you to hold him which you do of course while gently running your fingers through his hair. he’ll always be honest with you in those moments—he’ll ask you if he’s working too much, if you’re happy. and you’ll press a kiss to his forehead and tell him you’d never been happier. keys would then smile a little before lifting his head to kiss you properly. you wouldn’t leave the bed for hours after that.

kurt does not handle jealousy well at all. honestly, that man is terrified at the thought of you leaving, of you finding someone better than him. and maybe there was a part of him that believes he really doesn’t deserve someone like you. and so, when kurt get jealous, he gets upset. he’ll hold onto you real tight and beg you not to leave him. sometimes he’ll cry. he’ll tell you how much he loves you, how he doesn’t know what he’d do without you. and you’d always smile at him sweetly and kiss him just to shut him up. he usually takes the hint then.

dividers by @anitalenia

The moment he had seen the slightly obnoxious bright blue and butter yellow signage, Steve’s eyes were instantly drawn to the red anchor that sat between the S and the A. It was near identical to the anchor that had appeared on his wrist at ten years old. It was then Steve realised he had been dead wrong, that he wasn’t meant to meet his soulmate on cruise at sea. He was going to meet his soulmate here—at the job where he made $3 an hour and where he was forced to wear a sailor uniform.

Steve spent his summer slinging ice cream for kids with sticky fingers, begrudgingly giving Erica Sinclair free samples and checking the wrist of almost every woman who walked into the ice cream parlour. Days slipped into weeks and yet—Steve never lost hope.

And so, when he first met you—Max’s older sister who had been dragged along to buy her sister ice cream—of course his eyes had shifted down in the hopes of seeing your wrist. But you had been wearing an abundance of bracelets and he couldn't see whether or not you had the mark.

Still, he held out hope anyway because you were pretty and he felt a warm, fluttering feeling in his stomach when he was near you. A feeling his mother had once told him that he would only feel when his soulmate was near.

But you gave nothing away—no indication that you felt that feeling too or that you even noticed his own soul mark.

Steve held out hope that one day he'd see it on your wrist.

And he did—at your step brother Billy's funeral.

He saw it only for a few, brief moments as the sleeve of your blouse dipped while you wiped away your tears. But it was there and it was undeniable—the anchor that was identical to his own etched into the skin on your wrist. 

Of course he didn't tell you then. You were grieving and it wasn't the right time. Still, he let you cry on his shoulder, he became a friend—just a friend—who was there when you needed him. He helped to get you a job at Family Video when you worried about your family's finances and he became your ride home from work. But still, Steve didn't tell you and it was eating him alive—being friend zoned by his own soulmate. He was just biding his time and maybe, just maybe, Steve Harrington was fucking terrified that you already knew and that there was a part of you that was disappointed that the universe had decided you belong together.

And so, Steve Harrington kept the fact that you were his soulmate to himself. For now.

Max Mayfield usually came along to Family Video with her skateboard tucked under one arm just before closing time. It had become routine for her over the past few months—skating after school and letting the hours slip by and then heading to the video store so Steve could give you both a lift back to the trailer park. It had been a routine ever since you had scolded her for skating home late at night. She had huffed at the time, called you paranoid but still—she showed up to the video store after every skate boarding session and got into Steve’s beamer with no complaint.

Whenever Max would walk into the video store, she would always head straight for the horror section. You had told her, perhaps a hundred times, that there was no way you were going to let her rent The Slumber Party Massacre or Friday the 13th but still—Max just gravitated towards it.

The sound of Cloudbusting by Kate Bush blared through her headphones. Max hummed the words under her breath as she picked up a tape for The Evil Dead, flipping it over to read the back.

“You know your sister isn’t going to let you rent that, right?”

Max only just hears Steve’s voice over her music. She rolls her eyes and doesn’t put the tape away.

“Whatever Harrington," Max replied with a small huff, pulling her headphones down to rest around her neck before casting a quick glance over at Steve who was restocking a nearby shelf. “I can still look, can’t I? Or is that illegal now?”

Steve opens his mouth to reply but honestly—trying to outwit Max Mayfield was something he simply could not do eight hours into his shift.

“Why don’t you check out the more age appropriate films?” He asks, glancing over to the front counter where you were going through the end of shift returns box while Robin talked your ear off about her most recent Vickie update.

“Like what?” Max asked, uninterested. “Annie?”

Steve very nearly laughed but managed to stop himself, pursuing his lips as he placed My Bloody Valentine back onto the shelf.

“Funny,” Steve murmurs, lips twitching slightly as he looks down at Max. “No, I was thinking something more like… The Goonies or—”

“You sound like just my sister,” Max mutters, her blue eyes bright as they flicker over to Steve with a mischievous look on her face. “No wonder you two are soulmates.”

The tapes Steve had been holding all clatter to the floor. Both you and Robin look over at the noise while Max didn’t even bother to hide her amusement.

“Are you good over there, Stevie?” Robin calls out to Steve as he scrambles to pick up all of the tapes he had just dropped, his face burning an impressive shade of red. You meanwhile were looking over at Max in surprise, having only just realised that your sister was in the store.

“Yeah! Sorry—butter fingers!” Steve calls back as he shoots Max a look that plainly says ‘shut up’.

Max sends you a quick smile in acknowledgement before turning to look back at Steve who was now blushing a shade of red that Max did not know he was even capable of turning.

“How did you—”

“—oh, come on Steve,” Max huffs, though Steve can’t help but notice how she speaks in a low voice, eyes flickering back over to you as though making sure you couldn’t hear. “I’m not an idiot, you have the same soulmarks—”

“—I never said you were an idiot,” Steve says quickly as he shoves the last tape back onto the shelf before turning to look at Max fully. “And that’s just a coincidence—” 

“—you have an anchor. She has an anchor in the exact same place. You met at Scoops—none of that is coincidence.”

Steve opens his mouth to respond and then quickly closes it again because she was right. When it came to soulmates, there was no such thing as coincidences.

“Plus you act all…pathetic when you’re around her.”

Steve's ears turned red, almost perfectly matching the shade that his cheeks had turned.

“I do not—”

“—you do,” Max tells him with a faint smile. “Really pathetic, actually.”

Steve huffs in response and once again, his eyes shift over to you—mostly so he could make sure you weren’t listening to his conversation with your sister but also because you looked ridiculously pretty. You always did but today you’d done something different with your hair and—

“Exhibit A,” Max says, clicking her fingers directly in his face to snap him out of whatever trance you had unknowingly sent him into. “Staring at her like a lovesick puppy.”

“Well she is my soulmate,” Steve says, his heart thumping in his chest because it was the first—the very first time—he had said those words out loud because he hadn’t told anyone. Not even Robin (though, admittedly that was because Robin had an inability to keep a secret due to the fact she had a tendency to ramble when nervous).

“Surprised you worked it out,” Max says under her breath.

Steve has to force himself to take a deep breath, having to remind himself that Max was going through a lot. Between witnessing Billy’s death, your stepdad leaving, the move to the trailer park and a breakup with her own soulmate, it was no wonder she was a little more brash than usual.

“Yeah well, your sister doesn’t seem particularly fussed about having me as a soulmate,” Steve says finally, looking away from Max and instead looking at the tape still clutched in her hand. “Probably realised it was me and—”

“—it’s not you,” Max interrupts him quickly in a tone so surprisingly soft that he looks back at her. “Trust me she’s just—she’s just skeptical, she doesn’t really—”

“—believe in soulmates?” Steve finishes, jaw tightening because he had always had a feeling that you didn’t by the way your mark was always covered or the way you couldn’t even pretend to be interested when a soul couple would come into the store and share their story.

Steve had never hoped before that he was wrong but as he waited for Max to respond, he prayed he was. But when she says nothing in response—he knew he was right and the feeling that began to burn in his gut could have killed him.

Max, perhaps noticing the heartache written all over his face, quickly adds, “It—it’s a long story but if you talk to her—”

“—no,” Steve says quickly, shaking his head and pulling himself together in the blink of an eye. “I’m not going to make her do something she clearly doesn’t want to do.”

Max’s expression changes, she looks slightly panicked and shakes her head. “No Steve, you don’t understand—”

“—you should put the tape away,” Steve tells her, nodding towards The Evil Dead tape that Max was still holding. “Before your sister sees.”

And with that, Steve heads towards the stock room before Max could see the way his hands were shaking.

You couldn’t help but notice the distance that Steve Harrington had carefully placed between the two of you.

He still gave you a ride home from work, still laughed along with you and Robin at work, still showed up to the trailer unannounced with a bag full of groceries for your mom. But Steve no longer lingered, he stopped calling to tell you about whatever story you had missed from your day off at the video store, he stopped giving you those one armed hugs before he went on his lunch break that had become part of your routine. You were beginning to feel his absence like it was a physical ache.

And so, you sit in the passenger seat of Steve’s beamer after a shift at Family Video and two weeks of distance wondering whether or not to ask Steve if you had done something wrong.

Perhaps your nerves were a little too obvious because barely two minutes into the car journey, Steve was looking over at you.

“You gonna stop bouncing your leg like that?” He asks. “It’s distracting.”

“Sorry,” you mutter quickly, eyes fixed determinedly on the road ahead as you place your hands on your knees to try and stop them from moving.

It’s quiet then—aside from the gentle hum of the radio, Time After Time filling the silence between you and Steve. 

“You okay?” He asks suddenly, shooting you a hesitant glance before focusing back on the road. “You’re a little quiet.”

You chew your bottom lip between your teeth as you consider your reply. You could be honest with him—you could tell him that you were worried that you had done something wrong, that you had felt the distance Steve had put between you. How that distance had started to feel like a chasm and you didn’t know what to do.

Or you could lie. 

You choose the latter.

“Long shift,” you say finally with an attempt at a smile.

It was a lie and you both knew it. 

But Steve doesn’t press you further. That somehow hurt more than the distance. 

Your leg begins to bounce before you could stop it. Steve glances at you again.

“You’re doing it again—”

“—did I do something wrong?” You burst out suddenly, the feelings in your gut swirling in a dangerous storm.

Steve’s eyes remain on the road but you see the way his face blanches ever so slightly. “Wrong?” He repeats in a voice of forced composure. “Why would you think—”

“—because y-you’re different, Steve,” you say finally, your heart racing as you turn to look at him fully. “You don’t—you’re treating me differently and I just—I’m trying to understand what on earth I did wrong.”

“You didn’t—”

“—then why won’t you look at me, Steve?”

You can feel the anger beneath your words, a tone that surprised even you. But still, Steve doesn’t say anything and you simply watch as his jaw tightens, as his knuckles gripping onto the steering wheel turn white.

“Because I’m driving, Mayfield.”

You feel cold at the use of your surname. In all the time you had known Steve, he had never called you by your last name. It felt cold and distant and it made something in your gut turn uncomfortably.

“Pull over,” you say suddenly.

“What?”

“I said pull over.”

“Are you insane? I’m not—”

“Pull over, Harrington or I swear to god that I’ll open the door and—”

“Alright!” Steve snaps back, his clipped tone matching your own as he signals before he pulls over into the side of the road. “I’m pulling over, happy?”

You wait until Steve’s car is stationary before you decide to answer him. “Ecstatic.”

And then—without another word, you rip open the passenger side door and climb out of his car without another word.

You make it perhaps ten feet up the road before you hear Steve calling after you.

“Where are you going? Mayfield! Have you lost your damn mind?—”

“—Mayfield?” You repeat, anger flaring as you turn around to face Steve, only to find him barely two feet away from you. You try not to think about the way your stomach turns at that. “Since when do you call me Mayfield, Steve?”

Steve blinks, seeming to realise his misstep as he rubs a hand over his face in frustration.

“I—I don’t know, I just—”

“—can you just tell me what I’ve done wrong? If I’ve pissed you off or annoyed you or—”

“—you haven’t,” Steve says too quickly. “I’m just—”

“—you’re just calling me Mayfield and avoiding me like the plague?”

“I’m not avoiding you, I just—”

“—you’re just, what, Steve?”

“I’m just upset, okay?” Steve exclaims angrily, and the exhaustion in his voice silences you.

You blink, your eyes flickering over his face as you try and understand his anger.

“Upset?” You repeat, confused, hurt and everything in between. “Why are you—”

“Because I can’t be around you anymore!” He snaps, your name cracking at the end of his sentence like a whip.

Your blood starts to run cold. The skin on your left wrist itches. 

“Why?” You ask, your shoulders slumping slightly as you look at him, feeling something inside of you break a little.

Steve looks as though he was bracing himself, scrubbing another hand over his face before he takes a deep breath and looks at you properly this time.

“I can’t—I can’t be around you because—I know. I know you’re my soulmate.”

The air in your lungs disappears. The words seem to echo around you as you try to digest exactly what Steve had just said. And your eyes, your traitorous eyes, move down to the exposed skin of his wrist where the anchor identical to yours was etched into his skin.

“How did you—”

“—I saw it. At Billy’s funeral.”

You let out a breath you didn’t realise you had been holding, glancing down to the wrist you had kept covered for years. The mark you had tried to ignore since you were thirteen years old.

“Steve, I—”

“You knew, right?” Steve asks, taking a single step towards you as his eyes hold you captive. “You knew—you knew I was your soulmate, didn’t you?”

You had the urge to lie, to tell Steve that no, you had no idea. But one look in those big, brown eyes and you knew you couldn’t.

You give a small, barely there nod.

“Yeah,” you say quietly. “I knew the day I first met you at Scoops.”

Something in Steve’s expression cracks—a mix of hurt and betrayal that words couldn’t quite explain.

“Then why—why didn’t you say anything?” He asks you, your name falling from his lips at the end of his question like it had always belonged there. “I mean—we’re soulmates and you didn’t say anything.”

You look away for a brief moment, a sense of shame mixing with that fluttering, warm feeling in your gut you had always felt around Steve. The feeling you had tried so hard to ignore. 

“Is it me?” He asks you, taking another hesitant step closer to you. You can see the hurt, the desperation in his eyes as he watches you. “Were you—were you that disappointed that it was me who was your—”

“—no!” You say quickly, your throat thick with emotion. “God, no. Of course I wasn’t disappointed. I mean, you—you’re—you’re great. Amazing, actually.”

Steve’s expression softens slightly, eyes slightly glassy as he looks at you. “Then why didn’t you say anything? Is it because you don’t believe in soulmates?”

You flex your fingers before you dig your nails into the skin of your palms, your breathing starts to feel uneven. 

“It’s not that I don’t believe in them,” you say finally, swallowing a lump in your throat as you force yourself to look at Steve. “I ju—just—I’m scared.”

“Scared?” Steve asks, perplexed as his eyes flit down to watch the way your nails bite into your skin. His own hands twitch as though he was desperate to reach for you. “Why would you be scared?”

You want to look away, you almost do but something in Steve’s eyes keeps you there.

“Becuase my mom met her soulmate when she was young too,” you tell him in an uneven voice. “And he—something really bad happened to him.”

You don’t elaborate and Steve doesn’t press you further, but you don’t miss the way he looks at you with softer eyes.

“Then she met my dad who hadn’t ever met his soulmate and they fell in love and things were great for a long time. She had me, then she had Max. And we were happy. But then he met his soulmate—some random woman in a grocery store while me and Max were standing right there. And things just—things fell apart pretty quickly after that. My mom met Neil and she—she was never the same. All because she was trying to fill a hole that couldn’t be filled—her soulmate dying. The person she was meant to have forever with only being in her life for two years. Even in the years with my dad that were good, I could tell she—she was looking at my dad and seeing something else, seeing somebody else. An—and when you know what someone goes through when they lose their soulmate—I just—I don’t want to go through that.”

You hadn’t realised that tears had started falling before it was too late, your voice breaking and traitorous tears beginning to slip down your cheeks.

“Baby,” the word falls so naturally from Steve’s lips that it makes your heart feel lighter. A small sob escapes you before you could stop it and Steve doesn’t hesitate this time in taking another step closer, lifting his own hand to wipe away your tears so gently it very nearly took your breath away. “You don’t—you’re not gonna lose me—”

“—you can’t promise that, Steve,” you say, fighting the urge to push him away from you—because the place where his skin was touching yours felt hot enough to burn. “You—I've seen you. You throw yourself into danger without a care in the world! You act as though you’re disposable and I ca—can’t watch it happen, Steve, I can’t—”

“Hey, hey, hey,” Steve hushes you softly, two large hands cupping your cheeks gently and rendering you powerless to his touch. “I know, okay? I can’t promise that—that something bad might not happen to me. Or to you. Or to both of us. Okay? I know that. But—but you’re my other half and no matter how much time we have together, whether it’s seventy years or seventy days, I promise you that I’m in, one hundred per cent.”

“If you need time or space. I’ll give it to you. I swear. But I’m not going to let you throw this away because you’re scared. Baby, I’m scared too. But that doesn’t mean that I’m not going to give this everything I got because—what if we do get seventy years? What if we get seventy great years? You really gonna throw all that away because you’re scared?”

You swallow and you try to look away from him, his words too intense but Steve doesn’t let you—his hands keeping your head gently between palms.

“But what if—”

“—if we don’t get them then what we do get will be beautiful anyway,” Steve tells you in a voice so fierce yet so certain, you found yourself unable to look away from him even if you wanted to. “I can’t promise you a lot, but I can promise you that.”

The fear still lingered in your gut—the place it had lived since you had first walked into Scoops Ahoy! to see your soulmate in a sailor uniform. The fear that kept you up at night, that imagined over and over again what those Russians had done to Steve to leave his face and body black and blue. The fear that kept those bracelets covering your soulmark for years.

But alongside that fear was that feeling that you had never been able to shake—that warm, fluttering feeling whenever Steve was near. The one that made you realise that home wasn’t a place, that it wasn’t Hawkins nor was it California—that home was Steve Harrington.

And in the end, it was that feeling that won.

Your hands move without you thinking too much about it, fisting the front of his vest as you tug him closer. And when your lips met his, it was like two pieces of a puzzle slotting together, like the sea kissing the shore, like everything had finally fallen into place.

Steve’s hands find their way into your hair as he kisses you back with lips so smooth that you couldn’t think straight. Everything else had ceased to exist and all that remained Steve and his lips on yours, You barely even register that you were kissing Steve Harrington on the side of the road—that cars were driving by and honking at the two of you as his other hand rested on your waist to pull you even closer.

It was only when you felt droplets of rain beginning to fall that you finally pulled away from each other.

“Is it really starting to rain?” You ask, laughing as you look up to feel the rain falling onto your skin like a million tiny kisses. “Right now?”

Steve smiles, watching the smile break out onto your face as the rain starts to fall even harder. His fingers gently wrap around your left wrist, tugging down your bracelets to expose your soulmark before lifting it up to press a gentle kiss to the anchor that lived on your skin, the mark glowing golden beneath his lips.

“There’s no such thing as coincidence when it comes to soulmates,” Steve mutters against your skin.

“Maybe you’re right,” you whisper back softly with a faint smile. “Now should we get out of the rain?”

Steve hums, considering your question as he looks back at you. “Maybe just after—”And then before you could even breathe, his lips were back on yours. You let out a gasp of surprise and the rain fell even harder around you, but you didn’t pull away. Because this was right where you and Steve were always meant to be.

dividers by @suupersonic

support dividers by @saradika-graphics

line dividers by @omi-resources

.✦ ݁˖ rec account: @moonstone-recommends .✦ ݁˖

Because he had heard from Dustin—not you—that Max had broken up with Lucas. And Steve was terrified that you would follow suit. That you'd block him out completely as well as everyone else.

And Steve could not let that happen.

And so, Steve had decided enough was enough.

“You can talk to me, you know,” he tells you later that evening as he drives you home, his fingers tapping nervously against the steering wheel. “If things are feeling heavy or—you know.”

You don’t say anything but Steve sees the way your fingers curl into the leather of the passenger seat.

“M’fine,” you mumble, glancing out the window so Steve couldn’t read your expression.

Usually he’d drop it. Leave it there. But he couldn’t let you shut him out any longer.

“You’re not fine,” Steve tells you. “Fine isn’t refusing to talk to me about things. About Billy. About losing him. About how it’s affecting you.”

You go quiet. Really quiet. He hates when you go quiet—he’d much rather you yell at him.

Steve glances over at you and can see it—the way you were biting the inside of your cheek, the way you were refusing to look at him. You were closing up, getting ready to shut him out like you always did.

“I just—I worry, okay? A lot. I might not know what you’re going through but I know what you’re doing isn’t healthy. You need to talk about things, even if it’s difficult, even if it’s heavy. Bottling it all up isn’t going to do you any good. You need a shoulder to lean on sometimes and that’s okay. I’m your boyfriend, you can lean on me whenever you need to. I got you. Always.”

Silence and then—a small sniffle.

Steve pulls over the car immediately so he can hold you. So he can pull you into his arms, wipe away your tears and tell you it was okay.

“I just—I keep seeing hi-him d-die ov-over and o-over again,” you sob out. “And I c-can’t make i-it go a-away.”

Steve feels as though his heart shatters to pieces in his chest. The thought of you being plagued with images of Billy’s brutalised body makes him wish he could take it all away, despite knowing that there was no way he could. And so, he just presses another kiss to your forehead and holds you a little tighter.

“I’m sorry,” he tells you, the words muffled against your skin as he squeezes your arm gently. “I’m so fucking sorry.”

It wasn’t a cure, not even close. But it was a soothing balm you needed after two months of aching.

“I got you,” Steve tells you gently, another kiss to your hairline before he pulls away enough to wipe some more of your tears. “Always.

“You promise?”

“I promise.”

And the thing about Steve Harrington? He always kept his promises.

dividers by @strangergraphics

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