✮.˳⁺. 𝔧𝔞𝔰 𝔯𝔢𝔠𝔰 .⁎˚✭

“You heard his tone, right?” Steve set the walkie aside. He paced around the lounge, “He can never admit that he’s wrong, it’s just so-” 

“Frustrating?” You cut in, “I know, babe. You keep going in circles.”

“Because the kid is driving me crazy,” He huffed and ran a hand through his brunette hair, “And he doesn’t listen. Not just to me, but to anyone.”

A sigh escaped past your lips. Steve was right. Dustin’s spark had dulled since Eddie’s untimely death, and his eyes lacked their usual bright curiosity. It was… painful, to say the least. You never wanted to pressure your little brother, yet at the same time, you so desperately wished he would open up to someone. 

“I get it, I do. It’s rough, but you need to watch how you talk to him.” Your hand came to rub against the back of your neck, “He’s having a hard time.”

“How I talk to him? Babe, you can’t think that I’m the problem.”

“I’m not saying you’re the problem, but I mean, you have this… tone when you talk to him. I mean, do you listen to yourself, or do you have to be told everything?” You pointed out as he came to a halt in front of you. Steve gave you his signature look of confusion, and you had to force yourself not to roll your eyes. You stood from the couch, “Don’t give me that look.”

“I’m not giving you a look,” Steve grumbled, “... And I don’t have a tone.”

“Oh, really?” You cocked your head to the side in disbelief, “Because now you’re giving me that look and attitude.”

He took a half step closer, “You’re wrong—”

“And your humility is out the window, too, it seems.” You shook your head and pressed further, “So tell me again how this little quarrel between you and Dustin is just him being a moody teenager.”

His brow furrowed at the underhanded accusation, “So now I’m the problem? Don’t act like I haven’t been trying to get through to him.”

As much as you loved Steve, he did have a terrible habit of becoming defensive. It was this silent need to shift the blame from himself, a way to evade being labeled a bad guy again. He cared, but it wasn’t easy to be so empathetic with each verbal lashing from Dustin. 

When you didn’t immediately reply, the frown lines on his forehead deepened, “So you think it’s my fault.”

The accusation stung. Because when the three of you crawled out of that hellhole with Nancy and Robin last year, Steve did feel this deep-seated guilt because he couldn’t get back to the gate fast enough to save Eddie. When Steve had pried Dustin off Eddie’s body, and explained that they couldn’t safely get his body back to the Right Side up. He took care of Dustin while Nancy and Robin addressed your wounds from the demobats. It was Steve who sat with Dustin for hours as he sobbed, while you sat shell-shocked in your bedroom. 

“No, no,” You sputtered out in an attempt to get through to him before his walls went up, “But… you’re an adult, and- and he’s a kid who lost his best friend—”

“His best friend?”

His tone made you cringe, and it was clear that Steve had no interest in de-escalating the argument. With a sigh, you clarified, “One of them. Obviously. He’d be just as distraught if he lost anyone in the party, or me, or you. C’mon, don’t be so dense, Steve.”

And that was just the cherry on top for Steve. The floodgates of his frustrations were now open, except instead of Robin calming him or Dustin arguing back, it was all directed at you. 

“Of course you’re taking his side. ‘Henderson’s stick together’ or whatever bullshit it is you say to make yourselves feel better,” He griped and leaned against the wall. 

Your eyes widened at his remark, “Excuse me?”

“You’re excused,” Steve scoffed and started up the stairs towards his bedroom on the upper floor of the station. 

You gawked at him and the sheer audacity. Your eyes narrowed as you glared up at him, “Why are you being so bitchy?”

Steve simply scoffed and rolled his eyes, as if giving a response to the question was beneath him. He paused midflight, hand on his hip as he met your stern gaze, “Bitchy? That’s rich coming from you, princess.”

When you couldn’t respond fast enough, he continued to slink up the stairs. Defeat settled in your stomach. You didn’t want to provoke the issue further when it was clear neither of you would reach a consensus. Instead, you retreated outside to catch some fresh air. 

— — — — — 

It was time for the evening broadcast at The Sqwuak, which meant observing another intrinsic dance between Robin and Steve. While Robin queued up the next track, she was giving another one of her beloved anecdotes to the townfolk of Hawkins. Behind her, Steve moved with a practiced agility; his eyes moving between Robin, the soundboard, and, occasionally, you. Steve was typically so fluid with his movements, but tonight he was rigid, almost like he couldn’t get off the airwaves fast enough to go back upstairs and pout. 

After another harsh glance in your direction from your brown-eyed lover, you’d had enough. They clearly had everything handled, and the broadcast was nearly over anyway. It was obvious they didn’t require the assistance of their handy radio technician. 

You swiftly moved into the kitchen to make yourself a cup of tea before bed. As the water boiled, you turned off the PA systems that you had patched in. You just need one moment of silence to yourself, without the rest of the world ending, boyfriend troubles happening around you. And for a couple of minutes, it was peaceful. The smell of camomile tea leaves wafted from your mug, and you permitted your shoulders to sag for a moment. 

But a moment was all he needed to piss you off again. 

“Why did you leave your station?” Steve swiftly entered the kitchen. His hands settled onto his hips as he looked at you in disbelief.

Your brows furrowed at his incredulous tone, “My station? Please, this isn’t the Big Mac.”

“The MAC-Z,” He was quick to correct you, “And you need to start taking things more seriously. I mean, what if something happened and the signal went down but you weren’t there to just… fix it.”

“Well, I would hope that you and Robin could utilize your one shared braincell in a moment of panic,” You scoffed in return, “I can’t always be there to solve your problems for you, Steve.”

You expected a jab, sneer, or any kind of retort, really. But a stiff silence filled the kitchen instead. Your eyes flicked across his frozen frame, noticing each little detail. The way he clenched his jaw, his right hip slightly jutted, the scowl sketched into his brow. Something ignited in your chest from that smoldering gaze. It was unfair to look so good when you were at each other’s throats. 

“You Hendersons…” He hums lowly. His brown eyes darken, pupils dilated as they flick over your frame, “Can’t fix his attitude. But I know how to take care of yours.”

Something warmed in your stomach from his intense gaze and the touch of trouble in his tone. Your mouth parted to respond, but the whistle of the kettle cut you off. With a slight shake in your hand, you grabbed the mug, and you pulled it off the burner. As your tea bag steeped, two large hands settled on your sides, his hips pressed firmly against your lower back. 

“You still upset that we had to cancel date night for the last crawl?” He mumbled the question as his nose grazed over your ear. 

A chuff sounded under your breath, “I’m not mad that we canceled, but… it feels like you’re not concerned about rescheduling.”

“I’m plenty concerned,” Steve gritted out, “But my biggest concern is keeping you and the kids safe. And both you and your brother give me shit for that. Date night out isn’t always the safest, but I can make sure your needs are still met, honey.”

His hand dipped to tease at the waistband of your jeans. A light gasp breathlessly escaped you as he nipped at the shell of your ear, “I think you’re pissing me off and starting arguments on purpose. Is that it? I didn’t give you enough attention, so you gotta pout like a brat?”

“I’m hardly pouting, Steven,” You lightly shoved at his forearms, just needing an inch of space to breathe. A low growl escaped him as you used his full name, “We wouldn’t be arguing if you just took some initiative. And I’m not just talking about the date.”

“I take initiative, quit acting like I’m some manchild,” Steve glowered down at you. 

“Then quit being one,” You sharply retorted, your quick tongue only getting you further into trouble.

His jaw tensed once more, “So that’s how it’s gonna be? I tried to redirect, but you’re so damn insistent, fucking nagging me on.”

Your eyes widened as Steve’s sass turned vulgar, “Watch your mouth. You wouldn’t be talking like that if—”

“Shut up,” He cut you off as he spun you around. His hips pinned you against the cabinets, “You keep running your pretty little mouth a little too much. Maybe the quarantine’s got you stir crazy, or the crawls are getting to you, but I’m gonna take care of that mouth of yours.”

Steve tapped your thigh twice as he grunted out a sharp request, Knees. And who were you to argue with a man who looked like he was using all his restraint not to just pounce on you and truly ruin you? Sinking to the concrete floor, your hands came to rest on each of his jean-clad thighs. Your fingers gingerly grazed the outline of his prominent bulge. 

“This for me?” Your eyes flicked up to his face with the joke, but his brown eyes continued to bore into your skull. 

“Thought I told you to shut up,” Steve grunted, “But that’s okay, honey. You’re gonna apologize by taking care of me like you always do, huh?”

His hands moved to undo the zipper of his jeans, but his gaze never wavered from your face. It kept you frozen, though desire began to pool in your lower stomach. You leaned forward, your nose grazing against his knuckle and down to brush against his bulge through his briefs. You took in his heady sent, but Steve’s firm hand captured your chin before you could continue. 

“Don’t act so greedy, honey,” He snarled as he forced your head back up, meeting your needy eyes once more. The sight almost made him moan, but he swallowed in down with an easy smirk, “You’re acting desperate. Was that the issue? I didn’t give you enough attention and now you’ve got to give me attitude. Are you a child?”

You blinked up at him, surprised by the shift in Steve’s demeanor. 

“That wasn’t a rhetorical question, sweetheart.” His fingers tightened on your jaw.

“No…” You responded with a shaky breath. 

“No,” He repeated in a mocking tone, “Could’ve fooled me. Acting worse than your brother, been a real brat to me all day—”

You interjected, “Don’t act like you—”

But you couldn’t finish your retort as Steve’s large hands moved to cover your mouth, “God, you just never stop running this pretty little mouth. You need something to keep you quiet.”

His hips jutted words, grinding against your face so that you could take in his musky scent. You lapped at his bulge, your saliva leaving a wet patch. 

“You want more, honey?” His other hand moved to release his cock from the restraint of the briefs. His length stood proud, the tip an angry red, leaking with precum. His hand pulled back, and his thumb brushed over your bottom lip, admiring your wide eyes watching his aching cock. 

“I’m gonna take care of this bratty attitude,” Steve stated, “But you know what to do if it’s too much, honey.”

You eagerly nodded, a secret promise to use the safe word if things went too far. 

Steve didn’t need to second-guess himself, knowing that part of you liked getting in trouble like this and making it up to him. But what really got him was the way your pupils dilated each time his tone or words got a little too sharp. 

Your fingers held supported the tip of his cock while your tongue worked its way up from the base. A grunt escaped past Steve’s gritted teeth as you traced along the prominent vein. Another followed when you swirled your tongue around the tip and across the slit. His salty taste was heavy on your tongue. 

“Don’t tease, honey. I know you want to take all of me in your mouth, practically choke yourself on my cock,” His fingers slid through the roots of your hair to grip the stands at the back of your head. “That’s why you’ve been so mouthy.”

He firmly tugged your head back, your jaw slackened with a gasp, “Steve—”

“Shut up,” Steve snarled. He lightly began to rut his hips, his cock prodding at your lips and face. You stuck out your tongue, mouthing at him from any angle you could access. The sight was incredibly lewd, the way his cock continued to smear your spit and his essence across your face. His cocky smirk returned as he examined your appearance, “God, all you needed was some dick. Acting like a bitch in heat. Keep going.”

And you didn’t have to be told twice. Steve’s words of encouragement spurred you to take things further. Your right hand trailed up the inseam of his jeans, fingers ghosting the length of his thigh. When you took the tip into your mouth again, your hand moved to cup his balls, gently fondling them. His hips stuttered, wanting to force you to take more, but knowing you needed to get adjusted to the weight of him in your mouth. 

“Relax your jaw,” He ordered, his nails scratching against your scalp. Steve made small rocking movements, the tip of his length bruising against the back of your throat. Drool started to pool at the corners of your lips, collecting to ease the intrusion of his cock. He soon pushed your head to take more of his impressive length down your throat. 

When the pressure of him was too much, you patted his thigh as your hand lightly squeezed his balls. Your mouth came off with a soft pop as you caught your breath for a moment. Your free hand continued to pump his length, eyes steady on each other. 

Steve’s fingers caught your chin, “Open wide.”

You did as he commanded, your pink tongue peeking out at your head tilted back. Steve bent over you, face hovering above yours. A string of saliva poured from his lips and onto your awaiting tongue. His foot moved between your thighs, the toe of his boot firm against your clothed core, “Show me how sorry you are. Show me that you’re not such a fucking brat all the damn time.”

You began to rock your hips against his boot, chasing a touch of relief. Yet you weren’t paying enough attention to Steve. He pushed your mouth back onto his length, holding your head in place for a moment as you drooled all over his cock. When he felt your throat relax, his guided you up and down his length, your free hand pumping the remainder of what your couldn’t take. As he continued the assault on your mouth, your hips were greedily grinding away against his boot. You both knew the scene of completely obscene, but you were so caught up in the tension of the moment that the lustful mix of frustration and need kept both of you going. 

“Fuck. Fuck, honey,” Steve’s thrusts started to become sloppier, shallower. You knew he wouldn't last much longer, and you were determined to make him crumble. 

You doubled your efforts, alternating between pumping his cock, greedily sucking, and worshipping his balls. His hands released your hair, gripping at the countertop instead, knuckles white. His grunts had melted away into whines of restraint, restraint that was fading fast. With a few more messy thrusts, Steve’s cum shot down your throat, some of his spend dribbling down your chin as he pulled out. 

When Steve returned to his senses, he quickly tucked his length back into his boxers. He took a deep breath and snagged some napkins off the counter. He kneeled to meet your needy gaze, “You alright, sweetheart? Too rough?”

Your eyes flicked across his handsome face. A shaky hand reached to curl your fingers into the material of his sweater, “Green.”

He let out a low chuckle and pressed a quick kiss to your forehead. His gentle hands wiped at the corners of your lips, under your nose, and the waterline of your eyes, “There you go, sweetheart.”

his hands were calloused, worn out, appearing to be more like a tool than a part of something, a someone who was once a kid. holding his hand was like touching something rough. it had unnatural marks, made by someone who did things he wasn't proud of, or by something that thought to be someone. pretty much like battle leftovers, a tangible reminder that monsters can look like fathers.

sure, gator had some scars sprinkled across his body like glitter after a party: you never knew where you'd find the next one, and most were so small you wouldn't even notice if you weren't paying attention to it. but you always did.

you never talked about these marks.

he never offered you an explanation, either.

yet, you knew. it was impossible not to. roy tillman was a hard man for hard times; the thing is, he made up the hard times. roy saw everybody as an accessory or a target. gator was just both.

therefore, you kissed his scars.

he shivered under the weight of your tender lips.

you let him get away with it.

and gator touched you back like you were the first thing he could ever call his. maybe you were.

his marred hands touched you in many ways: possessive grabs to your waist, deep fingers inside your dripping pussy when he was getting you ready for his cock, clumsy and impatient tugs when he wanted to take off your bra, soft pulls when he pulled your hair, wishful holds when he brought you near, lust-driven squeezes when he put his hands on your tits, a teasing palm when he slapped your cunt, rude fingertips when he grabbed your jaw like he wanted to imprint his digits on you. but, sometimes, his touch was gentle despite the tough hands. he'd let you lean into it.

it was calm. it was too soft for men like him.

but you didn't say it.

still, he glared at you like he knew.

some things are better left unsaid.

when gator kisses you, it feels like the man he could've been. if his dad wasn't roy tillman. if his mother stuck around. if he had a fair chance with the world. if he wasn't born being fed violence for breakfast.

in your bed, he was that man. a better version of himself. perhaps his true version, you don't know. you doubt gator knows either— too many voices in his head, most of them sounding like his dad. they talk down on him, take something good and twist it until he comes out looking like he could uphold the tillman last name.

when he's with you, he's just gator. maybe you're the water he floats in, maybe you are the prey he's gonna kill when he's done playing around.

when he touches you, it doesn't matter.

his calloused hands feel soft on your skin. gator pulls you to his lap and you ride him. the deputy's lips are on you in no time, wrapped around your tit. he sucks on it and leaves tender bites that make you whimper. His free hand squeezes your left breast a bit too rough, but you couldn't care less, holding tight to his shoulders while you go up and down on his cock.

“gator.” you moan, and it's the only time he actually believes his name makes sense. when you are dizzy with pleasure, fucking on his dick like you're gonna die without it.

“I know, dollface.” he mutters as your walls clench around him. fuck. if anyone ever touched your tight cunt, he'd kill them on spot. that was his sweet thang, only his. “so needy, mama. don't worry, I'll fill you up nice. gonna leave ya dripping. anything for that pretty pussy. it always get so wet for me. I love it.”

the words hang in the air. gator always talks too much, his mouth works faster than his brain can fathom. somehow, love has been slipping into his luxury haze more often lately. never directly, but never missing an appearance as if he couldn't run out of things to love about you.

you don't mention it.

but when gator comes, his hands are on your waist and he squeezes so hard it will leave marks. his hands guide you on your back. his hands clean you up when his mouth doesn't say anything. his hands brush against your arm when he thinks you're asleep. his hands pull you to his chest.

his hands never lie.

so, yeah. there are a lot of things to like about gator.

but when he's tongue-tied, when his eyes get dark, when he gets bloody, when he runs away like a coward, when everything else fails him.

his hands always remind you what, who he keeps a hold on.

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『••✎••』

His face changed in an instant.

The easy, half-apologetic smile Peter had been wearing—sorry, my bad, let me help—froze, then cracked. His brown eyes widened, pupils blowing out like he’d been hit with a flashbang. The color drained from his already pale cheeks, leaving the faint acne scars and the sheen of nervous sweat stark against his skin. His mouth parted, lips forming a silent what? before any sound could escape.

You blinked up at him, crouched on the grimy New York sidewalk, one hand steadying your precariously tall stack of books, the other hovering over the scattered ones at your feet. The world kept moving—the rumble of the subway beneath the pavement, the wail of a distant siren, the shuffle of pedestrians flowing around the two of you like water around stones. But in the sudden, suffocating vacuum between you and him, all of that noise simply dissolved.

"Sorry, sorry, I’m so sorry," he’d been saying just a second ago, a familiar, breathless rush. He’d bumped into you—a classic traffic jam on the sidewalk—and your world had tipped sideways. Physics took over. Textbooks on organic chemistry and literary theory splayed out across the concrete like a fan.

He remembered you. He was sure of it. You sat two rows ahead and one to the left in Mr. Harrison’s history class. You never spoke, but he knew you were one of the smartest kids in the room, your hand perpetually in the air while he was usually trying to calculate if he had enough web fluid for patrol later that night. He’d seen you in the halls—a quiet, focused presence that never seemed to intersect with the chaotic orbit of himself, MJ, and Ned.

You smiled, a small, polite curve of your lips as you both reached for the same copy of The Great Gatsby. Your fingers had brushed.

"It’s okay, happens all the time." You had said, gathering the last book and tucking it into your stack. Then you looked him in the eye, a brief, friendly glance of acknowledgment, and said the words that had just short-circuited his entire nervous system.

"See you around, Peter."

And just like that, the universe tilted on its axis.

You’d pushed yourself to your feet, adjusting your bag, giving him another polite smile before turning to merge back into the river of people on the sidewalk. The moment was over—a simple, forgettable bump with a vague acquaintance from high school.

Except it wasn’t.

Wait.

His lungs seized. The name echoed in the hollow of his chest, a ghost of a sound, but it was the most real thing he’d heard in an eternity. Peter. Not "hey, kid" or "that guy" or the frustrated sigh of a landlord who never knew his renter’s name. Peter. Said with the casual familiarity of someone who had always known it.

A frantic, desperate energy seized him. He couldn’t let you go. He couldn’t let you walk away and vanish back into the faceless crowd, leaving him to wonder if he’d finally, truly lost it.

"Wait!"

He shot forward, a burst of speed that felt more like a spider’s leap than a human’s jog. He caught your arm just above the elbow. It was a gentle touch, barely any pressure, but you stopped instantly, turning back to him with a look of surprise, your brow furrowed. Your books wobbled in your arms.

His heart hammered against his ribs, a frantic drumbeat in a silent room. He leaned in, not caring that he was blocking the flow of foot traffic, that a businessman had to sidestep him with an annoyed grunt. All that mattered was your face, your confused eyes, and the five letters he needed to hear again.

"Wait," he repeated, his voice raspy, thin. "What… what did you say?"

Your confusion deepened, a small line creasing between your brows. You glanced from his wild-eyed face down to where he was still touching your sleeve, then back up again.

"Uh…" you hesitated, clearly thrown by the intensity of his reaction. "I just said, ‘see you around’?"

"No, before that. The… the last part." He could barely breathe the words out. Please. Please say it again. Let him know he wasn’t hallucinating, that the loneliness hadn’t finally cracked him open.

You blinked, slow and deliberate, as if trying to decipher a foreign language. A flicker of something like concern crossed your features.

"Peter?" you said, his name a soft, questioning thing in the city noise. "Are you okay?"

The world shattered around him.

It wasn’t a question of how. He didn’t care how. Not yet. The sheer, overwhelming fact of it crashed over him like a tidal wave. The weight of a year’s worth of invisibility, of nonexistence, suddenly lifted. Air rushed into lungs that had been starved for so long he’d forgotten what it felt like to breathe. A tremor ran through his entire body—a violent, shuddering release of tension he hadn’t even realized he was holding.

He didn’t answer your question. He couldn’t. All he could do was stare, his grip on your sleeve slackening until his fingers just brushed the fabric of your jacket. He was looking at you, but he wasn’t seeing a college student with a stack of books anymore. He was seeing an anchor. A lighthouse in a fog that had swallowed him whole.

A shaky, disbelieving laugh escaped his lips—a broken sound that held the ghost of a sob. He stared at you as if you’d just handed him the entire universe, piece by precious piece.

You, completely unaware of the magnitude of the moment—of the dam you’d just broken—just stood there. You took in the dazed look, the trembling hands, the way he was looking at you like you were a miracle.

And you just looked… concerned. Worried for the weird guy from your old high school who was currently having some kind of meltdown on a public sidewalk.

"Peter," you said again, a little firmer this time, reaching out a hesitant hand. "Seriously. Are you alright?"

And he was. For the first time in what felt like forever, he was more than alright.

You and Steve have been steadily cleaning the thing out during shifts like these all summer. (And then guiltily re-filling it so you'd have something to give the kids who come in every now and then.) However, since you hadn't had a chance to buy more after your recent attack on the thing, you thought it was empty.

But there, at the very bottom, sits one lonely lollipop.

You risk a glance back at Steve, but his eyes are already pinned to the candy. You look at each other, then the jar, then each other again. 

And you both lunge in unison. 

His shoulder bumps yours, but your elbow digs into his ribs, forcing a grunt from him. His fingers are longer, so he reaches it first, but you pin his wrist against the cool glass with your own and pry it out of his hand. 

“Goddamn it,” he mutters when your fingers close around the candy. “It’s a mystery flavor one, too!”

You grin triumphantly and pull out your prize. “Nice try. Sucker.”

“You’re not funny.” He settles back against the counter, crossing his arms over his chest and frowning as you unwrap the lollipop. “Technically, I touched it first.”

“Well, technically...that doesn’t matter.” You brandish the stick, then pop the candy in your mouth. “ ‘Cause look whose mouth it’s in.” 

And he does. Look at your mouth, that is. You try to ignore the swoop in your stomach as the afternoon light catches in his mussed hair, making it look as soft as warm caramel.

“You know,” he says slowly, “we could call it even and just…share.”

You snort. “Share? You can’t share a lollipop, are you insane?”

“Why not? 

“It's juss—” You take the sucker out of your mouth to speak clearly. “Like…purposely swapping spit?”

He shrugs. “What’s wrong with swapping spit? You drink out of my water bottle all the time.” Steve’s eyes flick to yours. “It’s not any different than making out.”

Oh. 

How can he just…say shit like that?

As if kissing your coworker is a perfectly normal thought to have. Of course, it is a frequent thought for you. Okay, more like an all-consuming one, but—whatever. 

“At least tell me what flavor it is," he begs, taking a step towards you.

You hum, squinting up at him and twirling the candy in your mouth teasingly. “Kind of like strawberry, but less sour? Too tart for watermelon. I don't know, but it’s soooo good.”

His gaze drops to your lips. “You’re doing this on purpose.”

“What? Flaunting my win?” you say, voice full of false innocence. “I would never!”

He huffs a laugh, then his hand finds the counter behind you with a smack. Your vision fills with broad chest, and he presses you back against the ledge, so close that you have to tip your head up to look at him. 

“Careful,” he says. “I might have to revoke your water bottle privileges.”

You roll your eyes, then pull the lollipop out again. “Fine, Harrington. You want a taste that bad?”

His eyes drop to your lips. “So bad.”

You hold the candy up between you, but when he reaches for it, you snatch it back at the last second. 

He swallows hard as you slip it back into your mouth, twirling your tongue around the hard sugar and blinking up at him from under your lashes. 

When it clicks against your teeth, his eyes darken.

Suddenly, Steve grabs the sucker’s stick and pulls it from your mouth, and you’re not really sure who moves first, but a second later…his lips are on yours. 

Your breath hitches as his tongue presses against the seam of your lips, then dips inside, tasting the sweetness there, and—God, it’s everything you dreamed of.

Steve groans softly, his exhale hot against your cheek as his fingers spread over your lower back to pull you closer, making your vest whisper against his. Your hands fly to his shirt, gripping the fabric for support as the carpet beneath your feet seems to tilt. 

You could kiss him like this forever, actually. It’s syrupy sweet, the sugar on your tongue melting with the taste of him and creating this intoxicating, addictive—

Just then, the bell over the door chimes. 

You break apart instantly, chests heaving. Steve chuckles as your hands fly to your flaming cheeks, and you whip around, putting on your best customer service face for whoever just walked in.

The sucker lies forgotten on the countertop. Something for you to clean up later.

 “Oh, and by the way,” he whispers over your shoulder before turning back to the register. “It’s cherry.”

Steve laughs, hoping that you don't see the way the tips of his ears have turned red. He was very aware that he had been at the wash only a few days prior but it was hot and he wanted an excuse to see you, see your body dripping with suds and water. Even the thought of seeing the pebbled peaks of your nipples through your white vest top was enough to make his cock stir beneath his shorts.

"Yeah um, fuckin' bird took a shit on my bonnet so figured I should get it cleaned again," Steve explains, grinning at you like he definitely had not been rehearsing that excuse on the drive over as he opens his door and climbs out of his car.

Your mouth feels a little dry when you see the red shorts he was wearing, the ones that stretched deliciously over his thighs. Then there was the white tank top he wore, one that gave you a perfect peak at the dark hair that adorned his chest, one that showed those incredible biceps of his and displayed his skin tanned from the sun, peppered with freckles and moles that you wanted to explore with your mouth.

You're quick to pull yourself back to the present, your eyes flickering down to the small splatter of white and dark brown on the bonnet that you can't help but smile at. You could see right through this guy.

"Of course. Can't have that, can we?" you say with a wry smile before turning around so that you could bend down to grab a large bucket full of cleaning supplies that waited beside the tyres, allowing Steve to look shamelessly at your ass as you did.

You busy yourself with grabbing the rest of the gear—the hose, the wash mitts, wheel brushes and a spare bucket while Steve watches, bottom lip pulled between his teeth as you lean down to fill up one of the buckets with soapy water, which allows him a clear view of your cleavage. He feels his traitorous cock swelling beneath his shorts already.

"So," you begin as you start by cleaning off the bird shit on the bonnet with a wet rag. "You got any plans this evening, Harrington?"

"Um," Steve begins, adjusting his stance so that you didn't see the growing bulge forming beneath his shorts. "Yeah. I um, I have a date."

Steve did not know what had possessed him to say those words. He did not, in fact, have a date tonight. In actuality, Steve had been planning to head straight home after the wash and fist his cock thinking about your tits in that tank top. But he couldn't tell you that.

You falter for the briefest of seconds when he mentions he was going on a date, something that felt an awful lot like disappointment swirling in your gut. You had thought, perhaps stupidly, that Steve might actually like you. That perhaps he was soon going to pluck up the courage and ask you out. But no, Steve Harrington was going on a date tonight with someone who wasn't you.

For a moment, you remain quiet. Despite the confidence you had gained from the years after high school, despite the fact you were no longer an awkward teenager, you found yourself feeling the way that you did back then. Inadequate. Not enough for a hot jock like Steve.

"Sounds fun. Hope you have a good time," you say finally as you finish scrubbing up the bird mess from the bonnet before you bend down to start cleaning the wheels.

You would have cleaned the rest of his car in complete silence, would have let the thought of him going on a date remain on your mind the entire wash. But then you remembered that you were completely alone with Steve and that you weren't the same shy, quiet girl you were in high school.You were a grown woman.

And so, if you wanted to fuck with him a little before his little date—you could do so.

You finish cleaning the wheels and tyres before you stand up straight, glancing over your shoulder to see Steve looking at you. You smile at him sweetly before turning your attention back to his car.

You grab the hose, turning it on to give his car a pre-rinse of loose dust and dirt (one that wasn't at all necessarily, considering he had only had his car washed on Monday) before you look over at him again.

"It's pretty fuckin' hot today," you comment, glancing up at the sun that was beating down on your exposed skin.

"Yeah," Steve says, a little distracted by the image he had of himself kissing up your exposed neck, of him licking the sweat off your skin as his hands roam all over your body, his hands slipping beneath those denim shorts and finding you already soaking wet—

Steve shakes his head, trying to stop his imagination from derailing any further and making his cock any harder than it already was.

"Yeah. It is really hot."

God—now he was stating the fucking obvious. He wondered what the hell had happened to the guy who once only needed to smile at a girl for her to drop her panties for him.

Oh yeah—you happened.

It was quiet again then, the only sounds being the water dripping onto the beamer. You lean unnecessarily over the front bonnet, not bothering to pull your shorts down as they ride up the backs of your thighs, exposing the very bottom of your ass cheeks for Steve to gawk at. Which he does—shamelessly.

You switch off the hose, grabbing the spray nozzle from the supply bucket and twisting it onto the hose pipe before you turn to look at a very flustered looking Steve.

"Did you mind if I take my top off?" You ask him, tilting your head to the side with a sickly sweet smile as you watch Steve's eyes widen. "Don't worry, I have a bikini on underneath. It's just—it's really hot—"

"—y-yes,” Steve stutters out quickly, breathless with want, heat prickling up his neck that had nothing to do with the summer sun and everything to do with you. “Ye-eah, if it’s hot for you then I don’t—”

The words die on his tongue, in fact, any coherent thought that Steve has disappears at the sight of you pulling your tank top off over your head. The sight of the cherry red bikini you were wearing beneath was nothing short of torture for Steve. Your tits looked—fuck—incredible, the material of your bikini hugging your breasts perfectly and making Steve’s shorts feel way too tight.

You could see Steve’s reaction. It was hard not to miss the large tent that had formed at the front of his red shorts. You can’t help but look because you had heard so many rumours over the years about how big Steve Harrington’s cock was and now—now you could see the clear, thick outline of it through those shorts of his. The undeniable evidence that yes, Steve Harrington’s cock was fucking huge.

And fuck, if the sight of it didn’t make your pussy throb.

You turn the hose on, switching to the soft shower setting as you spray Steve’s car like you weren’t already thinking of your next move, thinking about a way to make Steve Harrington lose his damn mind.

“Just gonna—try and cool down a bit,” you tell Steve, turning to face him with the hose still spraying water in your hand.

Steve blinks back at you, too dazed, too turned on to really understand anything you were saying to him. He just nods, his lips parting as he tries to form a reply.

But you don’t wait for him to do so. 

You raise the hose above your head, letting the spray drench your upper body. It was cold and you let out a small, satisfied moan at the feeling of the water cooling your too hot skin. You feel the goosebumps forming over your skin, feel your nipples harden beneath the material of your bikini and you can’t help but look over at Steve to gauge his reaction. When you see him looking at you like you were the most delicious thing he had ever laid eyes on, you don’t hesitate to lower the spray directly onto your breasts.

The cold water hitting your tits directly makes you squeal, coupled with the feeling of your sensitive peaks rubbing against the material of your bikini makes something hot surge through your body.

“Feels s’good,” you moan out, bottom lip pulled between your teeth as you tilt your head back, feeling the water drip down over your stomach and into your denim shorts.

You can’t see Steve but you certainly hear the way he takes in a shuddering breath.

You switch the hose off, glancing down at your bikini top that was now completely soaked through, your perked nipples poking through the material and making Steve forget every single word in the English language.

“I b-bet it d-does,” Steve manages to say, his throat feeling too tight, his cock now so hard that it was almost painful. “Ni-nice and w-wet, huh?”

“Yeah, huh,” you smile at him, your eyes dropping back down to the bulge that had formed his shorts for the briefest of seconds before you look back up at his stupidly handsome face. “I’m so wet, Stevie.”

Steve lets out a noise—something that almost sounded like a whimper and the sound goes straight to your throbbing cunt. 

“T-that so?” Steve asks, his hands now twitching with the effort it was taking him to not palm himself over his shorts, to give himself some relief from the aching he was feeling from between his thighs. He could feel himself leaking already. You just looked so fucking hot, your top half completely drenched, water dripping down the valley of your breasts and your fucking nipples—

You let out a small tut, glancing down at your denim shorts that were also now beginning to drip with water. 

“These might have to come off too,” you hum, your fingers slipping just beneath the waistband of the denim and causing Steve’s eyes to nearly bulge out of his head. “Is that okay with you, Stevie?”

Steve can only nod, completely unable to form a sentence as your words finally register.

“Words, Stevie,” you tell him, one of your hands trailing upwards, gliding over your wet skin to cup one of your breasts over your bikini. “Be a good boy and use your words.”

You weren’t entirely sure what had gotten into you. Sure, the car wash wasn’t in the middle of town but you were still very much at risk for getting caught if another customer pulled in. But maybe it was the heat finally getting to you or maybe it was the fact that Steve Harrington was stood less than eight feet away from you, hard as a fucking rock all because you decided to fuck with him.

And you certainly weren’t going to stop now. 

“Yes,” Steve grits out finally, his jaw tight as he watches you roll your nipple between two fingers, pleasure blooming across your face at the sensation. “Yes, please—fuck—take ‘em off too.”

“Well, since you asked so nicely,” you hum, your hands returning to the waistband of your shorts to unbutton them.

Steve Harrington had never looked so desperate. You watch, your shorts pooling at your feet, as Steve runs one of his large hands through his hair, fingers tugging at the strands as though that would offer him some kind of relief.

“You good, Stevie?” You ask him as you switch the hose back on, blasting a spray of cold water to your stomach, causing your body to jolt and sending a shot of pleasure through your body. You were so ridiculously turned on, cleaning Steve’s car was at the very back of your mind as you felt heat pooling between your thighs. That feeling, almost like molten lava surging directly to your core, made any rational thought leave your mind entirely.

“You can touch yourself y’know,” you tell him, your own voice completely breathless, mostly from the cold water spraying over your warm skin but also from the fact Steve Harrington was looking at you as though he wanted nothing more than to devour you.

Steve groans—he actually fucking groans—at your words, pulling his bottom lip between his teeth as one of his hands rest on his soft tummy, tugging it up slightly and revealing a dark trail of hair that disappeared into his shorts. That sight made your cunt clench around nothing.

“You sure?” Steve asks you, his hips bucking upwards in a not so subtle way, trying to seek some relief. “I don’t—I don’t wanna make you uncomfortable.”

You almost roll your eyes, he was being so kind, so considerate and so Steve that you felt your heart beat a little faster in your chest.

But you also wanted him to take a fucking hint.

“Touch yourself,” you tell him, switching the setting on the nozzle with one hand as the other directs the spray directly towards your covered cunt. “I want you to watch me and I want you to touch yourself.”

Steve didn’t even have time to comprehend what you were about to do, didn’t have time to prepare himself for what was about to happen. And so, the moment that you move the hose between your legs, directing the spray right against your covered clit—that was the moment Steve Harrington lost all sense of control.

Steve lets out a loud, shameless groan of your name, a sound that you hope you would never forget before he hastily tugs down his shorts, his boxers quick to follow.

Nothing—absolutely nothing—could have prepared you for the first sight of Steve Harrington’s cock. It was fucking beautiful. Long, thick and impossibly heavy. The audible smack that it made as it slaps against his soft tummy makes your mouth feel dry. You couldn’t help but notice how the ruddy tip was leaking, how precum was dribbling down a vein that bulged down his length.

“You’re so fucking big, Stevie,” you tell him, completely breathless as you press the nozzle against your clothed cunt, a moan slipping out as the pressure hits your swollen clit and causing your thighs clench around the hose. “S’fucking big.”

“Fuck,” He groans, one hand gripping the stack of tyres beside him to steady himself while the other wraps around the base of his thick cock. “You’re so fucking hot, I—”

Whatever Steve was about to say was almost entirely drowned out by the sound of his own moan as he began to stroke his cock. The sight was truly something to marvel at. His handsome face twisted in pleasure as he began to fuck his fist, the hair he had been famous for in high school now falling in front of his eyes, completely dishelved as he lost himself in watching you continue to press the nozzle between your thighs, watching your tits bounce with every movement and listening to the sweet sounds of pleasure falling from your lips.

“Look at you, Stevie,” you gasp out, a smile tugging on your lips as you watch him pump his thick cock desperately, his eyes darting between the nozzle between your thighs and your face contorted with pleasure. “Such a good boy, aren’t you?”

He whimpers. King Steve, Steve the hair Harrington fucking whimpers at your words and you swear, you could had gotten off to that sound alone.

“Yes,” he groans out, his hand twisting as he reaches the tip of his cock, hips canting up into every stroke. “Only for you, baby.”

Your stomach tightened. Your body felt as though it was burning, pleasure was surging through every cell in your body at the pet name. You wanted nothing more than to drop the damn hose, get on your knees and take Steve’s cock into your mouth until your jaw ached. But you couldn’t give him what he wanted. Not yet anyway.

But you needed more, you needed something because you were so close and you knew Steve was too. You could hear it in those small groans and whimpers he was letting out, could see it in the way he was biting down on his bottom lip so much that he was in danger of drawing blood. 

And so, you lean back against his car, one hand pulling the nozzle slightly away from your body as the other tugs down your bikini bottoms, exposing your soaked cunt to the hot summer air.

Steve looks as though he was in physical pain from holding back as he gets a full view of your glistening wet pussy. You watch, heart hammering, as his tongue swipes along his lower lip, as though he was desperate for a taste.

But you wouldn’t give him that—you just wanted to give him something to remember when he was on that fucking date tonight.

You direct the water directly against your clit and the moan you let out surely could have been heard from miles away. Pleasure shoots through you, so intense that you had to grab onto Steve’s car behind you with your free hand so you wouldn’t lose your footing.

“Stevie,” you gasp out, your hips jerking upwards as you chase that feeling again. “Stevie, are you—”

“—yeah,” Steve groans out, the wet sounds of him fucking his fist with his precum meeting your ears and making the heat burning inside of you feel even more intense. “Yeah, baby. I’m—I’m s’fucking close. Gonna cum. Gonna cum fuckin’ watching you. You’re so fuckin’ good. So fuckin’ hot, baby.”

You mewl out, white hot pleasure consuming you as cold water blasted against your swollen clit. It was too much, the pressure, the fact that Steve Harrington was fucking watching you, that he was getting off and that you weren’t even fucking touching. It was so hot. It was so fucking hot and you could feel the pressure—building, building, building and—

Steve lets out a sound, one that was almost animalistic in its desperation. And you watch as he spills white ropes of his cum down onto the hot concrete and the sight of how much fucking cum was coating the asphlat was what tipped you right over the edge with him.

You let out a wanton moan, one that ripped from the very back of your throat, one that you felt deep within your bones. Your orgasm crashed over you like a tidal wave, your thighs shook, your release mixing with the water being sprayed from the nozzle and Steve’s name fell from your lips like it belonged there.

You didn’t know how long both of you stood there—you still leaning against Steve’s car for support and Steve bracing himself against the tyres. All you knew was that when you finally found the courage to look over at Steve—you found that he was already looking right at you.

“I don’t actually have a date tonight,” he tells you, leaning down to pull up his shorts and boxers that he pooled at his feet while you mirror his actions, switching off the hose and tugging your bikini bottoms back up. “I don’t—I don’t know why I told you that I did but I—”

“—do you want one?” You ask him, your voice still a little breathless from the intensity from your orgasm.

Steve blinks, seemingly confused at your words as he looks at you quizzically. “I don’t know what you—”

It then seems to hit him, he seems to understand the meaning of your words and the smile that breaks out across his face was so breathtakingly beautiful that you couldn’t look away.

And when he takes a step closer, you feel as though he has stolen the air from your lungs.

“With you?” Steve asks softly, leaning in to tuck a stray strand of hair behind your ear, fingers then lingering on the warm skin of your cheek. “Of course I fucking do.”

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You understood the point of things like this. Everyone was trying to move on with their lives, trying to push past all the shit that had ended only 3 months ago. Sleepovers and movie nights were meant to show the kids that it was okay to keep going, that they didn't have to look over their shoulder every time a branch snapped or a firework went off.

Easier said than done.

Because you knew damn well that the memories would never truly leave. There would always be a voice in the back of their minds reminding them of everything they had lost. You knew when they were older they would look back and lament the childhood they lost.

But hey, if getting together every Friday night at Steve's house kept them off the brink of a mental collapse, then you would happily rent every movie ever filmed.

Still, you could never find it in yourself to actually pay attention to whatever movie was playing. Instead, you found yourself quietly watching everyone else, reading their expressions and body language. It was something you had picked up in the midst of all the crazy. Reading people told you what kind of version of you they needed most.

You knew that when Mike's eyes were distant we just needed a moment to himself. You knew that Dustin needed a squeeze on the shoulder when his eyes got shiny at the mention of Eddie. Lucas favored distraction. Max liked no nonsense, just say it how it is. Will liked music as a distraction. Nancy liked to be heard. Robin wanted someone to laugh at her jokes. Jonathan favored a smile or a nod. And Steve... he needed care.

Not the doting kind, or the overly touchy kind of care. Maybe a simple smoothing over of his jacket, an encouraging word or two, maybe wrapping a bandage around a scratch or cut.

And you were happy to be the person to provide the security to everyone, you always had been. And that was what had earned you a spot in the party, despite how hard your dad had tried to keep you out of it.

But Hopper had never really been subtle about things, and you were quick to piece together that the strange things happening in Hawkins weren't just a crazy batch of coincidences.

The party was always nice to you, kind of had to be, but you had never really felt like you fit in with them. Sure you knew the older kids, but they all seemed paired off in their own groups. The one person you had known the best was gone now.

El had been a sister to you, she had slowly mended the Sarah shaped hole in your heart. Not that Sarah was replaceable, but having El around gave you a taste of what fate had ripped away from you and your dad. But fate was never kind. In fact it had a cruel sense of humor, bringing in someone to mend that tear in your heart only to take that person away. And with her, the hole turned into a gap, a missing space where your heart should've been.

You glanced over at Mike, taking in the slight frown on his face that seemed to be permanent nowadays. As if he could sense you staring, his eyes flicked across the room to meet yours. A silent conversation passed between the two of you.

Are you okay? No. You? Not one bit. She would've loved movie nights. Only if Eggos were involved.

A slight smile drew at his lips and he turned back to the movie.

By the time the movie was over, everyone was either half asleep or snoring lightly. You held Steve and Robin pull out the air mattress while Nancy and Jonathan guided the kids upstairs to their prospective sleeping arrangements. They always took the bed room, leaving the rest of you to trade off shitty couch cushions, air mattresses, and makeshift blanket beds in the living room.

Tonight it was you who was sleeping on the floor, the previous week had been Steve. You settled onto the neatly set up blankets next to the air mattress. Robin looked over at you with a sorry expression.

"Y'know we can always push the two mattresses together and you me and Steve can squeeze together?" She offered.

You shook your head, pulling up a heavy quilt. "Nah I'm fine. Plus I told you I'm a crazy mover in my sleep." It wasn't a lie, but it was a watered down version of the truth. No matter how many times you were given the option to squeeze in, you declined. The last thing you needed was to wake whoever was the sorry soul sleeping next you with thrashing and yanking.

Typically, you never actually spent the night. Making up some excuse about a curfew or how your dad no longer liked not knowing where you were at night. But it was late tonight, and you didn't trust yourself to not fall asleep behind the wheel.

Robin nodded a bit, "Well if you change your mind, just roll me over. I'm a heavy sleeper." You gave her a small nod before laying down. She watched you for a moment before quietly continuing. "By the way, I'm glad you decided to stay tonight. The kids are always grumpy when you're not here the next morning."

You smiled, giving her small thank you. You watched as she turned onto her side. You stared up at the ceiling, eyes burning with exhaustion. You knew there was no chance you would be getting any sleep tonight. Which wasn't a shock. Sleep had never come naturally to you, and it seemed even more elusive given the recent events. Not that you minded, because when you did manage to fall asleep, it was never pleasant. Vines and monsters crawled in your mind, tying you down as events replayed in graphic detail. Sometimes the nightmares played out as the events actually happened, other times it took a gruesome turn. Actually, most of the time it took a turn for the worse. Anything and everything from El's screams, to your friends being brutally ripped apart, to your father rushing back into the gate and leaving you without any family at all.

Safe to say, when you managed to fall asleep you woke up either screaming, crying, or both.

So no, you would not be sleeping tonight.

You watched as the digital clock ticked by, the hours passing by at an agonizing pace. Sometime between 2:30 and 3:00 AM, you had grown tired of counting the cracks in the brick fireplace. You sat up carefully, shifting the blankets and standing on your feet. You quietly padded into the kitchen, grabbing a glass of water before sitting lazily on a stool. Your finger traced the rim of the glass while you counted the drips from the faucet.

The floor board directly behind you creaked slightly. Fight or flight kicked in, and being the daughter of the police chief... you had never been a flight kind of girl. You twisted around, roughly grabbing the figures shoulders and shoving them against the fridge, forearms pressed tightly against their neck.

"Jesus, Hop-" Steve held up his hands in surrender.

You let out a jagged breath as you stepped away. "Sorry- sorry, fuck. I just thought." You brushed back your hair, leaning against the counter as you collected yourself.

Steve stayed pressed against the fridge. "No, it's alright. I know better than to sneak up on someone in our group." He watched you for a moment. "Can't sleep?"

"Never can." You replied without thought.

Steve's brows furrowed slightly, before he understood. "I get it. I don't remember the last time I slept for a peaceful 8 hours."

You eyed him carefully, debating whether or not to leave the conversation at that or to maybe finally get to know the guy you had fought beside. "You get 'em too?" Your voice came out quietly.

Steve didn't need for you to name it for him to understand. He nodded, humming carefully. "Yep. Just about every night for the past 2 years."

"That's a long time to go without good sleep, Harrington."

"Speaking from experience, Hop?"

"Yup." You popped the p, staring down at your water.

Steve sat on the stool beside you. "Do you want to talk about it?"

Your instinct was to say no, but you held your tongue for a moment. "Only if you do."

Steve nodded slowly. "I actually do. I... think it might be nice to know there's someone who understands what's going through my head." He admitted quietly.

You swallowed hard, eyes trained on your fingers. "I don't sleep anymore... not because I can't. Because I don't want to. I dread it. It's like I'm willingly stepping back into that place, like I'm subjecting myself to even worse outcomes."

Steve stared at you, not with judgement, just understanding. Deeper understanding than you realized, because he had been facing the same issue. "It's like, when you accept sleep, you're accepting mental torture."

Your eyes quickly met his. You nodded quickly, a breath slipping past your lips. "Exactly."

"I get them too. Versions of the fight where we lost, where more people died. Funny thing is, I'm never the one to die... it's always someone else." He paused for a moment. "I think it would be more tolerable if I was the one dying."

You took in a heavy breath, those were the same words that plagued your mind after a night terror. The fact that Steve was sitting here beside you, speaking your exact thoughts to you, was like a bullet to the heart. "That's why I never stay over... I don't want to run the possibility of me falling asleep and scaring the shit out of everyone when I wake up screaming."

When. Not if. Steve noticed that. God he noticed it immediately. And now he was mentally cursing himself for never having tried to really get to know you. Because Steve had felt so alone in this burden, when the whole time you had been dealing with it too. This whole time, if he had simply allowed himself to let another person in, maybe the two of you wouldn't have been suffering alone for so long.

"We should sleep together." The words tumbled out of his mouth.

You stared at him, blinking rapidly. "Oh wow- um. I dunno Steve- that's kinda wack that you turned this conversation from oh yeah I have horrible debilitating night terrors into a sexual advance."

He shook his head rapidly, eyes wide. "No! No, not like sleeping as in sex. Sleeping as in honk shoo."

"Oh- oh! Sorry- God, I shouldn't have just assumed." You shook your head, shaking the thoughts away. "I dunno- I thrash a lot and it's never peaceful. The last thing I want to do is hit you or wake you up with crying."

"I'm the same way. We don't have to sleep in the same bed or anything. But I just thought maybe it would be nice for there to be someone who understands when one of us wakes up." He looked embarrassed by the thought.

"I-" You stopped. You were ready to turn him down, make up some excuse that kept you cut off. But the broken part of you was yearning for someone, anyone, to relate to, someone to lean on. And by the look on his face, he was wanting the same. "Alright, yeah. We can give it a try."

He nodded, a small smile forming on his face. "Alright. If you want to stay over tomorrow night too we can give it a try. I don't really feel like trying to go to sleep tonight."

"Me neither. So... tomorrow night."

He nodded, "Deal."

The next night arrived faster than you had realized. The sun had long since set as you headed back over to Steve's house. You had told your dad you were going to stay with Robin, fearing that the man would kill Steve if he knew you were going to be there alone.

Steve let you in, smiling slightly as he led you up to his room. "Don't judge me, it's still the same from high school- so just- be nice."

You laughed, "Well now I'm going to have to be mean." You stepped into his bedroom. It was simply a bedroom. There was nothing particularly boyish about it. The only thing worth making fun of was the amount of Farrah Fawcett hair spray cans that sat on his dresser. You picked one up, lifting a brow. "Really?"

He groaned, snatching it from you. "I told you to be nice."

"Steve, this looks like an addict's stash." You pointed out.

"It keeps my hair looking nice, okay!? Sue me for wanting to still have nice hair."

You laughed, setting your bag on the air mattress he had pulled into the room. "Whatever you say, Hair-rington."

"What are you doing?" He pointed to your bag.

"What does it look like I'm doing?"

"You're taking the bed." He grabbed the bag, tossing it onto his mattress.

"Steve, it's your bed."

"Doesn't have my name written on it."

"That not- what. Did you- you're such a diva." You relented. Carefully kicking off your shoes.

Steve smiled and flopped onto the air mattress. "Remember, if you wake up screaming it's fine."

You nodded. "Same goes for you."

He smiled and settled into the sheets. "Hopefully you have a good night, Hop."

"Yeah, you too, Harrington."

The bed welcomed you with a warm hug, pulling you into a deep sleep.

Everything was dark, a normal kind of sleep dark. And then thunder. Red thunder. A storm that swallowed you deep into it, tossing you around as El's screams circled you. The voices started soft, simple pleas for help that turned into yelling that turned into screams. El, your dad, Robin, Mike... Steve. Layers upon layers of people screaming your name as you were held down in the eye of the storm. Black, slimy vines wrapped tightly around your legs and arms. Your eyes squeezed shut for a moment before the vines grew tiny fingers, ripping your eyes back open just in time to see a spike driven through El's chest.

You jolted up, face sticky with tears, a scream ripping from your throat. Steve sat up beside you, clambering onto the bed as he took in your distressed state. You heaved, leaning forward as you clutched the sheets for support. A mangled sob ripped through you as you looked around.

Steve gently wrapped his arms around you. "Hey hey hey, it's okay. It's not real. That wasn't real. You're safe. Everyone is saf-"

"She's gone-" You gripped him hard, fisting his shirt as your head fell against his chest. "El is gone- she's not safe! She's fucking gone!"

Steve's arms wrapped around you tighter, as he swallowed the lump in his throat. "I'm sorry, hop."

"It's not fair!" Another sob wracked through your body as you clung to him. "It's not fucking fair. She- she..."

Steve pulled you closer, holding your head to his chest. "I know. You can let it out." He smoothed your hair.

And you listened. You let yourself go in his arms, tears leaking through his shirt as you held onto him for dear life. But eventually the tears ran their course, leaving you empty and drained. Your eyes fluttered. You blinked them carefully, doing your best to stay awake. "I don't want to fall asleep anymore."

"You need to." He spoke carefully.

You shook your head. "I can't go back there."

"You won't" Steve didn't know why he promised that. But he did. "I've got you. I'm not going to let you go back there." The words felt soft, and cushiony. They felt right.

Despite yourself, you fell asleep in Steve's arms. And Steve, in spite of his best efforts, fell asleep holding you.

And for the first time in years, both You and Steve slept through the night, snores carefully filling the room.

When you woke up, the clock read 2:30 PM. You rubbed your eyes, trying to make sense of the number. Your gaze drifted from the clock to the freckled arms wrapped around your waist, and the head fluffy hair stuffed into your neck.

Oh you were fucked.

Steve shifted closer, his grip on your waist tightening slightly as he let out a long breath from his nose. You watched him quietly for a moment, admiring the way his face had settled into a peaceful look. His chest rose steadily, the crease between his brows lifted into a more relaxed nature. He took in a deep breath, letting out a small hum as his eyes fluttered open.

He blinked slowly, yawning as he took in the room. His eyes gently met yours, faces only inches apart on the pillow. "Mornin'" A lazy smile slid across his face.

"Good morning, I take it you slept well?" You carefully propped yourself up on one elbow.

Steve nodded slowly, staring up at you in slight amazement. "I- I did. And you?"

You looked away briefly, nodding carefully. You let out a gentle half amused, half amazed laugh. "Yeah actually. I um- that's the longest I've slept in years."

"What time is it?" He glanced over at the clock, eyebrows skyrocketing at the time. "Holy shit- we got like 12 fucking hours of sleep-" He laughed, sitting up with gusto.

You smiled, running your hand through your hair. "Yeah, we did."

"I've never felt so- rested or rejuvenated. I feel alive!" His fists bumped up in the air.

You held back a laugh, "Easy there, big guy. Let's slow down a second. For all we know this could be some fluke- or some bizarre coincidental miracle."

He rolled his eyes, "Yeah sure, if you wanna call it that. I don't know about you, but there have been plenty of people who I've slept beside or in the same room with and I've NEVER slept like that before. I mean it. I didn't have a single dream last night, I just... slept. And by the lack of circles under your eyes, it was the same for you."

"Wrong. I did have a nightmare. Remember?"

"Yeah- Yeah I remember, but after that. When I got in bed with you we both actually slept. You can't ignore that."

You pulled your gaze back to him. He was right. You had actually gotten good sleep. And for whatever reason, Steve had been a part of it. "You're right. But what are we gonna do? I can't stay over here every night. And my dad sure as hell isn't letting you sleep in my room let alone my bed."

Steve frowned. "Y'know you're a grown adult now, you don't need your dad's permission. Plus it's not like it's sexual, this is purely for our own well being."

"So what, you want me to tell my dad 'oh hey dad, by the way from now on im going to be sleeping at Steve's house in his bed. Oh but don't worry, it's not romantic, it's just because I've been hiding the fact that everytime I go to sleep I have nightmares that have scared me for life. So see ya in the morning, love ya bye!'"

Steve slumped a little, "Well obviously not like that... Look I know your dad isn't going to approve- but at the end of the day this is your health we're talking about. Both of our health. We can't function like that anymore."

"Why? I've been functioning like that for the past 4 years." You frowned.

"If you wanna call whatever life you were living before functioning then sure." He rolled his eyes.

"The hell is that supposed to mean?" You pushed away from him slightly.

"Look I know you think you were subtle, but I see the way you keep people at arms length. It's not a good way to live, Hop."

Your eyes burned slightly as you stared at him. As much as defensive anger clawed at your chest, eager to yell at him. The newly rejuvenated logical part of you that had been killed along with your sleep, told you he was right. You had never truly been very open with anyone except for El, and look where that got you. A frown settled onto your face, eyes cast down on the sleeves of your sweatshirt.

Steve felt his stomach drop slightly as you shrank back. "Hop, I'm sorry I didn-"

"You're right." You let out a short breath. "I'm defensive, and I'm closed off. I've always been like that, and I always will be. I don't intend on changing because every time I've tried I've gotten hurt. I know you think you can help me beyond sleep, but you can't. So please, if we're going to find a way to do this, promise me you won't try being my hero. We keep this strictly friendly, just two people helping each other with a problem. Got it?"

Steve stared at you for a moment. He should've said no, given he had every intention not to listen to your instructions. Steve felt like he needed to help you, even if you didn't want his help. He knew he was only pulling himself into a cloudy mess of feelings. But he didn't care. When he looked at you, he felt oddly protective of you, yet safe at the same time. Steve knew you didn't need his protection, but deep down he knew you wanted it. Because he was the same way. An exhausted person struggling to keep their heads above the water and simply waiting for the current to finally sweep them under.

Steve was not going to let you go under.

He nodded once, "Deal."

"I'm really sorry, (y/n)," Robin says gently, reaching over the table to pat your arm. "I know you really liked him."

You shrug—pretending as though the familiar feeling of heartache didn't matter. Pretending as though it didn't gut you every time a guy let you down.

"He had a stupid last name anyway," you murmur quietly, picking up your milkshake and taking a sip of the chocolatey goodness to try and fix the ache in your chest.

Robin smiles—just a little.

"Yeah, Hardcock is an unfortunate last name for someone with a small penis—"

"Robin!" you burst out, your eyes wide as you look around Scoops Ahoy to check if anyone else had heard Robin's crude words. "I didn't say he had a—"

"You didn’t have to. I know I'm a—" Robin mimics you, glancing around quickly before leaning across the table to whisper, "—raging lesbian but I know small dick energy when I see it."

You try to hold it in, try not to laugh. But you can't help it, your best friend Robin Buckley always knew how to make you laugh. She had been doing so after every heartbreak—starting with Ethan Clarke in third grade. The boy who had been your first kiss, picked daisies for you from the school field, only to ask Lucy Wallis to school dance a week later. Robin had filled his shoes full of sand from the sandpit in retaliation.

"Okay, maybe it was...below average," you say carefully, swirling your straw around your shake slowly.

Robin tuts and shakes her head. "Exactly. Natasha did you a favour if you think about it."

"That's um, a little insensitive Robin considering I just found out my boyfriend was cheating on me—"

"Boyfriend is a stretch—"

You huff because Robin had a point. Dan had never made things between the two of you official. Despite the fact that you had been his date to his sister's wedding, had bought his mother's birthday presents and even spent a weekend at his parent's lake house. Still—he had never acknowledged you as his girlfriend.

The worst of it? This wasn't the first time this had happened. It had happened a lot over the course of the last few years. You couldn't help it. You fell quick and you fell hard. You believed in the best of people—always. Even the guys who didn’t deserve it. You looked past red flags and trusted when guys when you should have been cautious.

“Point taken,” you mutter, eyes flickering down to your milkshake that Robin had lovingly made you before going on her break.

"Hey, don’t be sad,” Robin tells you, nudging your leg with her converse. “Really. Dan isn’t worth it. You deserve a guy with a massive, humungous co—"

"Buckley? You nearly done on your break?”

"Speaking of massive dicks—” Robin rolls her eyes as she turns to look at her coworker. Your eyes can’t help but follow.

Steve Harrington was standing a few feet away—in the same sorry excuse for a uniform as Robin wore. The sailor costume that made you grateful for your dull job at the pharmacy in town. You would take the white coat and beige shirt over a sailor hat any day.

“I told you, Harrington,” Robin said in a clipped tone. “I was taking thirty minutes. It’s been twenty five, do you need me to explain an analogue clock to you again—”

“—no, I was just wondering—”

“—yeah well, stop wondering. I still have five minutes.”

You bite back a laugh. You may have not gone to the same high school as Robin but you certainly knew who Steve Harrington was. It was impossible to live in Hawkins and not know Steve. Especially when Robin would complain to you about his ‘stupid hair’ when Tammy Thompson—the girl she once swore she’d marry one day—fancied him.

Steve’s eyes then flicker over to you. You look back at him—offer him the smallest of smiles.

“Oh, where are my manners? Dingus—this is my best friend, (y/n). (y/n), this dingus.”

You blink. Eyes moving from Steve, to Robin and back again.

“Dingus?” You ask, amused.

Steve shakes his head, looking a little sheepish as he scratches the back of his neck.

“Suits him, right?” Robin says with a bright smile.

Steve huffs out a noise that was almost a laugh. “Yeah. Real funny.”

Your mouth twitches as you try not to smile before nervously holding out for your hand for him to shake.

“Nice to meet you, dingus.”

“It’s Steve,” he tells you before he takes your hand and gives it a firm but gentle shake. “Nice you meet you too, (y/n). You seem a lot nicer than Robin.”

You smile at that before you drop your hand.

“Surprisingly, that isn’t the first time I’ve heard that.”

Steve laughs—the sound is warm, bright.

“So, how long have you and Robin been—”

“Hey! Can I get some service over here?”

Steve actually jumps at the sound of the customer’s voice—his ears turning pink and sailor hat nearly toppling off his head in his haste to return to the front counter.

“Right away, sir. I’m so sorry—”

You watch him go, he turns back for a brief moment to give you a quick finger wave. You return it with a small smile.

“Uh oh,” Robin says, noticing the look on your face as Steve tends to the slightly pissed off customer. “I know that look.”

You blink. Your eyes flickering back to Robin, your face feeling a little warm.

“What look?” You ask innocently, tapping your fingers against the table.

Robin leans forward, flicking you on the forehead. “That look,” she says. “The ‘oh god, that guy’s really hot’ look.”

You splutter—let out a noise somewhere between a laugh and a cough.

“I wasn’t—”

“You were,” Robin muses, leaning back against her side of the booth and glaring at you a little. “You cannot—under any circumstances—fall in love with Steve Harrington. He’s my sworn mortal enemy.”

“I thought Delilah from your Spanish class was your mortal enemy.”

“Fucking Delilah,” Robin mutters—scowling as she remembered the perky cheerleader who had given Robin a backhanded compliment everyday since freshman year. “Okay—Steve Harrington is my second sworn mortal enemy and therefore you cannot—and I repeat, cannot, fall in love with him.”

You put your hands up in surrender. “Okay—fine. I won’t.”

Robin looks at you for a long moment before she nods. “Good. Now—I need to get back to work before Harrington’s hairline starts receding from the stress of serving more twelve year olds.”

You laugh before helping Robin clear up the table. You hand your empty milkshake glass to her, listening to her drone on about Steve’s truly awful attempts to flirt with customers. But you weren’t really listening—too busy glancing over at the guy you just promised your best friend you wouldn’t fall in love with.

July, 1985.

When Robin told you that Steve would be coming along to your weekly movie nights, you wondered if she was on drugs. Brainwashed maybe.

“Didn’t you say that he was your sworn mortal enemy not even a month ago?” You ask her, setting down the bag of junk food you had bought on her kitchen table.

You weren’t entirely sure what transpired in Starcourt mall a little over two weeks ago. You read that it had been a fire—that thirty people had died, including the police chief Jim Hopper and Billy Hargrove. You also knew that Robin and Steve had been there.

Robin hadn’t really talked about it. You couldn’t say you really blamed her. You hadn’t asked her about it either, hadn’t wanted to push. But what made you curious was what had happened between her and Steve in that time—because since that night? Robin and Steve were as thick as thieves.

Robin blinks, looking back at you with a slightly blank expression before she laughs a little. “Yeah—well, I realised that Steve isn’t as bad as I thought. He’s actually a pretty great guy.”

“And what made you realise that?” You ask before you could stop yourself.

Robin looks back at you, an expression on her face that you don’t recognise. She looks torn. Between what—you weren’t sure.

But it’s at that moment that the doorbell rings.

“Oh, it’s Steve!” Robin says brightly, seemingly thankful for the interruption as she slips past you. “You can pick the first movie, I promise!”

You watch her disappear, taking a deep breath as you mentally prepare yourself for an evening with Steve 'the hair' Harrington and Robin—a duo you had not imagined, even in your wildest dreams.

You didn't want to stand around awkwardly while you waited for Robin to return with Steve. And so, you walked into the living room and sat down in your usual seat at the end of the couch. Trying not to look awkward.

The first thing you notice when Steve and Robin walk in the room is that Steve's still had a black eye. The cut on his lip was still healing. Again—you didn't question how Steve had sustained a black eye and split lip in a mall fire. You just smiled politely at him.

"Hi—"

"—Hi."

Robin completely ignores the awkward exchange between you and Steve—too busy riffling through her parent's collection of VHS tapes.

"Thanks for um, letting me crash yours and Robin's movie nights," Steve says, hesitantly sitting down beside you, the couch dipping beneath his weight. "I know it's like a longstanding tradition for you guys."

"It's okay," you tell him and you really meant it—Robin was a lot more herself since becoming close with Steve. And seeing Robin happy? Well, it was worth a little awkwardness. "I don't mind."

Steve gives you a genuine smile just as Robin slams down several tapes onto the coffee table.

"Okay! (y/n), you can the first movie—sorry Steve, but I promised her she could! Then you can pick the second one and—if we're still awake I'll pick the third movie, sound good?"

You laugh a little because Robin always took these movie nights very seriously while Steve simply leans back on the couch and nods.

"Sounds good to me," he says with a glance over at you. "Choose wisely or I may reconsider tagging along to these movie nights."

You laugh and end up picking Red Dawn. Steve is nestled between you and Robin, his shoulder occasionally brushing against yours as he leans back. You quickly realise that Steve Harrington was nothing like the King Steve you had heard about in high school. The guy that sat between you and Robin on the couch was thoughtful—kept asking you if you wanted some of his popcorn—and friendly. Steve was incredibly funny, completely unintentionally and seemed to take great pride in making you or Robin laugh. He didn't seem to mind the constant commentary you and Robin engaged in throughout the movie. In fact, he revelled in it. Easing into your conversation like he was always meant to be there. He certainty didn't seem like the selfish and insensitive asshole that Robin had told you about all those years ago.

Steve ends up picking Children of the Corn, though you weren't sure why because you come to learn that he did not like jumpscares. You could feel him flinching slightly beside you. You bite back a smile and pretended not to notice.

The film Robin chose was This Is Spinal Tap—which Steve seemed grateful for the tone shift. Though at this point in the evening, it was approaching eleven at night and you were trying to stifle a yawn. You had been on the morning shift at the pharmacy and so, you were pretty tired.

“You tired?” Steve murmurs to quietly and you hum, lifting your head that you hadn’t realised had been resting on his shoulder.

Your face burns and you sit up straight, making sure to put some distance between you and Steve.

“Oh—god. I’m so sorry—”

Steve waves his hand as though it wasn’t a big deal as Robin looks over, brow raised.

“It’s fine,” Steve reassures you with a kind smile that makes your face feel even warmer. “Nice to know you find my shoulder comfortable. I take it as a compliment.”

You smile and laugh, watching as Steve looks away from you to focus back on the movie. Over his shoulder you catch Robin’s eye—she looks back at you with a raised brow. You swallow—remembering your promise to her over a month ago. To not fall in love with the guy who sat between you.

But judging by the way your skin felt hot where your arms touched—you had a feeling that it was going to be a problem.

By some miracle, you make it through the movie. Your eyes keep drooping and you kept almost dozing off but you would wake yourself back up just in time.

“Don’t fall asleep on your way back home,” Robin tells you, giving you a quick hug at the door.

You wave her off with a tired smile.

“Wait—you’re not driving, are you?” Steve asks you, concerned.

You glance at him and nod. “Yeah—how else will I get home? I’ll be fine,” you reassure him when you notice the look on his face. “I’ll crank up the air con and play ABBA real loud.”

But Steve is already shaking his head.

"No—no way," Steve insists, hand already digging into his pocket for his car keys. "I'll take you home."

You hestiate, eyes flickering over to Robin before you look back at Steve.

"Are you sure?"

"Positive," Steve says with a small smile. "Wouldn't want you getting behind the wheel when you're so tired."

You both say goodbye to Robin—you purposefully avoiding eye contact with her as you climb into Steve's beamer. You glance at your red Ford Escort tucked away on the curb outside of Robin's house as Steve starts the engine.

"Don't worry about it," Steve tells you, checking his mirrors before pulling out onto the road. "I can come over tomorrow morning for you to pick up your car—which way by the way?"

"Oh—sorry. It's left here then straight on until you get to Bradley's, then it's another right."

"Got it," Steve says, flicking on his indicator and turning left.

It's quiet then—you look out the window as the town of Hawkins passes by. Steve's car ran a lot smoother than yours. You knew the Harringtons were a wealthy family and Steve's 1983 BMW 733i screamed wealth—though he no longer seemed to hold himself like the untouchable rich kid.

"You um, you and Robin been best friends for a long time, then?" Steve asks you.

You eyes flicker over to Steve and you smile a little at his question.

"Yeah, since like kindergarten," you tell him. "She pushed over this boy for taking my crayon. Called him a meat head."

Steve laughs at that—a rich warm laugh that seems to fill up the whole car. You find it makes your lips twitch as you try not to smile and laugh along with him.

"Sounds like Buckley," he says affectionately.

"Yeah. She hasn't changed all that much."

Steve leans back, as though he was more comfortable now. Eyes on the road but looking over at you for a brief second.

"She talks about you—like, a lot," he tells you.

"She talks about you too."

Steve's ears go a little red—you notice it but don't make a comment. Just sit in the comfortable silence you had built.

The beamer approaches Bradley's Best Buy and Steve glances at you before making a right.

"Where to now?"

"It's a right here, then—just keep going until you see the sign for Birch Lane."

"Birch Lane, huh?" Steve hums as he taps his fingers against the steering wheel. "My friend Tommy used to live there—I mean um, an old friend. Not friend's with him anyone because he's—"

"An asshole?" You offer.

Steve laughs and nods. "Yeah—that's a mild way of putting it."

"He once drove his car into my mom's gate. I saw it happen and he tried to pay me off so I wouldn't tell her—told me to say it the old lady who lives opposite," you tell Steve.

Steve scoffs and rolls his eyes a little. "I wish I was surprised by that. Tommy could never take responsibility for doing something wrong. I can't believe I used to hang around with a guy like him—that I used to be like him."

Steve goes quiet then and you look at him and you see it—the quiet vulnerability. How ashamed he clearly felt for his past behaviour.

"Well, for what it's worth I know we've only hung out for one movie night but—you don't seem like an asshole to me," you tell him. “You seem like a great guy.”

Steve swallows—you see the bob of his Adam's apple and the way his knuckles turn white as he grips the steering wheel a little harder.

You don't say anything more and neither does Steve—he turns into your street and slows down his car.

“Which one—”

“Number thirty four. Right at the end.”

He pulls up to your house, smiling a little at the abundance flowers that adorned the front garden as the beamer slowed to a stop.

Your face warms as you unbuckle your seatbelt. “My mom’s a gardener,” you explain to him.

“I like it,” Steve says. “Very homely.”

The way he says it—the slight longing in his voice doesn’t go unmissed. But you don’t comment on it.

“Thank you for the lift home,” you say quietly, turning to face him as you reach for the door handle.

“No worries,” Steve says with an easy smile. “I’ll come over tomorrow morning so you can pick your car up from Robin.”

“You don’t have to—”

“No, I insist. We’re friends now.”

You try not to smile. But it’s impossible. Something funny was happening in your stomach as you looked back at him.

“Thank you, that’s really—”

“—is that your mom?”

Your head whips around so fast you were sure your neck would hurt in the morning and—sure enough, despite the fact it was nearing half one in the morning, your mom was poking her head through the curtains. She waves jovially at you and Steve—you groan when Steve returns with wave with a laugh.

“God—I’m sorry. She’s really nosey.”

“Nothing wrong with that. Wish my mom cared enough to be nosey.”

He says it so casually you know he hadn’t meant to say it—his warm brown eyes widen in mild horror and his ears turned pink.

“I didn’t mean—”

“It’s okay,” you say, reaching over without thinking and placing your hand against his arm. You hate that you notice how warm his skin was. “I’ll see you tomorrow, yeah?”

Steve smiles—grateful that you didn’t push. That you didn’t question his moment of brutal honesty. He hadn’t been thinking—had just felt so comfortable around you that the words had slipped out.

“Yeah. See you,” he says as you open the door and climb out of his car. You see your mom still poking her head through the curtain—waving at Steve as he drives off.

The moment you were back inside your house? Your mom greeted you at the door—a bright smile on her face.

“He was cute,” she observes.

“Mom—”

“What? Just an observation. You know I’m right—you have that look on your face when you’re trying not to smile.”

You roll your eyes but she was right. You were trying not to smile. Trying to ignore that fluttering feeling in your gut. Tried to ignore Robin’s words from a month ago that were ringing in your ears.

You cannot—under any circumstances—fall in love with Steve Harrington.

Well, you thought as you slipped upstairs to your bedroom, maybe it was too late for that.

oh no, i'm falling in love again

September, 1985.

The rain hammered down around you as you walked—drenched to the very bone—to a nearby phone booth. Your teeth chattered as you slipped inside, your jacket clinging to you like a second skin.

You had been on your first date since the fallout with Dan and well—it hadn’t gone too well. The guy, Peter, talked about himself for the entire time, barely asked you a question about yourself and kept checking out the waitress when he thought you weren’t looking. And so—you had asked to be dropped back home. Said you weren’t feeling well. But Peter—apparently only now realising that he wasn’t going to get lucky tonight—had dropped you off a good half an hour away from your house. In the pouring rain. Asshole.

You fumbled about in your pockets for some spare change. Your fingers shaking from the cold as you manage to find two dollars in the back pocket of your jeans. You couldn’t call home because you knew your mom would worry and so your best bet was Robin—who you prayed her parents were able to pick you up since Robin herself couldn’t drive.

She picked up within five rings.

“Buckley residence! If this is the home insurance company, my parents aren’t in so I’m afraid I can’t be of much about the leaking roof situation—”

“Robin,” you cut across her in a small voice. “It’s me.”

"(y/n)? I thought you were on a date? Oh no—you don't need me to get you condoms again, do you? Because I did not enjoy the interaction with the cashier last time. Do you know he's known me since I was eight years old? So you're just going to have to stick to foreplay for now—"

Had you been in almost any other situation, you would likely have laughed. But you were cold, so cold. And your clothes were stuck to your skin, teeth still chattering and the rain that hammered down against the windows of the phone booth showed no sign of stopping anytime soon.

"No—Robin, I don't need condoms," you interrupt. "I need a ride—shit, did you say your parents are out?"

"Y-yeah. They are. Sorry—why do you need a ride?"

"My date it—it didn't go well. I wasn't interested and he—he dropped me off like two miles from my house and—"

"—oh, fuck that guy," Robin interjects with disdain in her voice. "That's fucked up. I'm really sorry, (y/n). My parents won't be back until late—"

"—it's okay," you say, though you're internally panicking. You would have to call your mom—who was likely to scold you—and you weren't even sure if you even had enough change to cover it—

"Oh! I can call Steve!" Robin exclaims and for a second, your brain short circuits.

"S-Steve?" you stutter out from the cold—perhaps also from the mention of the guy you were trying not to think about. "You sure he won't mind?"

"No, no—of course not! I'll call him now, okay? Where are you exactly?"

You try your best to explain where the phone booth was. Robin promises that she would call Steve and that he would be there in ten minutes or so. Failing that—you would have to bite the bullet and call your mom. But you tried to remain hopeful, leaning back against the inside of the phone booth and trying to keep warm while you waited.

Steve arrived less than ten minutes later.

Light floods into the booth and you look up—eyes squinting as a figure jogs over. Relief floods through you as you stand up straighter. Your hands are still shaking a little as you open up the door and come face to face with Steve—his hair already dripping despite only being in the rain for a few moments and brown eyes full of concern.

"Jesus (y/n)," Steve says, his hands already finding yours and wincing when he felt how cold they were. "You're so cold—c'mon. Let's get you in the warm, yeah? Heater in my car is already on."

You nod weakly, your face suddenly feeling hot due to the slight shame you were feeling—over the fact that Steve was witnessing you in such a state. You go to step outside the booth and into the rain, but Steve stops you.

"W-what?"

Steve doesn't say anything—just wordlessly takes off his jacket before holding it over your head. You give him a small, grateful smile before you tuck yourself carefully beneath his jacket. The smell of an expensive cologne hits you—a warm, almost vanillary musk that you wanted to bury your face in.

But you don't do that—instead you follow him through the rain back towards his car. He's getting drenched but doesn't seem to care, too focused on opening his passenger door for you. You thank him before sliding into the passenger seat, the hot air hitting your skin and warming you from within. You relax a little as Steve slams your door shut, hurrying round to the drivers side.

"You okay?" He asks after getting into his side and slamming the door behind, worry evident in those big brown eyes of his.

You nod, taking a shuddering breath as you hand him back his jacket. He dumps the soaked denim into the backseat. The rain still hammers down, every drop smacking against the windscreen and roof of the beamer, the sound tinny and making you shudder again.

"Here," he murmurs, gently taking your hands in his. You try not to react as his large hands cup yours—rubbing them up and down to stimulate heat. Your eyes flicker down to watch—his long fingers, the veins on the back of his hand and how surprisingly soft his palms were. "Better?"

Again, you nod wordlessly.

He doesn't let go—not yet. Just looks at you for a long moment and you watch as he jaw tenses.

"I can't believe—did he really just leave you out in the rain like that?"

"Yeah," you say. "He did."

"Fucking asshole," Steve murmurs, hands still rubbing yours and shaking his head in disbelief. "You wait—I'll smash his windows with my nail bat."

You laugh, your first laugh all evening and it makes you feel warmer than any hot air could.

"Wait, why do you have a nail bat?" You finally ask.

Steve looks at you for a moment before he shakes his head, focusing back on warming up your hands with his.

"Oh—you know, in case of a home invasion. Stuff like that."

“Well, I know now not to mess with you,” you say quietly, corners of your mouth twitching as you try not to smile.

“Nah. I think you’re good,” Steve says, winking at you before squeezing your hands with his. “All warmed up?”

You find you want to lie to him, tell him that you were still cold and you aren’t sure why. You knew he would let go of your hand and you didn’t want him to. The thought made your warm face. Your stomach turn. A fluttery feeling in your gut you wanted to ignore.

“Yeah,” you say finally, offering him a small smile. “All warmed up now.”

Steve smiles back at you, squeezing your hands a final time before dropping them.

“Let’s get you back home, yeah?”

You lean back in the seat as the rain continues to beat down, Steve quickly adjusting the windscreen wipers to accommodate the torrential downpour.

“Hey, Steve?” You say suddenly.

Steve, whose finger had just been about to flick on his indicator in order to signal him pulling away, looks over at you.

“Yeah?”

“Th-thank you,” you say simply.

“Anything for a friend.”

You smile back at him but the word friend feels like acid in your stomach.

October, 1985.

The more time you spent with Steve, the more you realised you liked him—like really, really liked him—and it was becoming a problem. You liked that he hummed along to songs without knowing the words. You liked that he always turned up to the weekly movie nights with a horror movie he wound inevitably jump at. You liked that he put aside new VHS tapes for you at Family Video—where he and Robin now worked—just because you mentioned wanting to see a certain movie. You liked that he remembered how you liked your coffee and that sometimes he would bring you a cup to work just because. You liked his smile. His laugh. His hair. His arms. His hands. His—

"So—(y/n), how did your date with Michael go?”

Robin’s voice pulls you out of your train of thought. You had showed up at Family Video again during your lunch break, since the pharmacy you worked at was only a few minutes away to pick out movies for your usual movie night with Robin and Steve. Though, quite honestly you had been pretty distracted with the pretty redhead who was openly flirting with Steve at the front counter a few feet away.

“Huh?”

“Your date,” Robin says, tilting her head as she looks at you. “With Michael—it was on Wednesday, right?”

“Oh,” you say, trying not to react when you hear Steve and the girl laughing. But you could feel your stomach turn uncomfortably. Already feel your eyes wanting to move back over to the front counter. But you force yourself to focus on Robin. “Yeah, it was—it was okay.”

Despite the fact you were falling for Steve Harrington, you were trying desperately to ignore it. Shoving your feelings to the side. Trying to find a distraction. Someone to make you forget about Steve. Hence the date with Michael.

“Okay?” Robin asks, setting down the tapes of The Evil Dead and The Poltergeist back onto their shelves and looking at you carefully. “That bad, huh? You seemed excited about it.”

You shrug—unable to tell her that the reason you had seemed so excited was because Steve had been there when you shared the news about your date. Because perhaps a part of you had wanted to see his reaction. To see if he got jealous. But he just seemed genuinely happy for you—even offered you advice on where to go for dinner.

You were aware that you making some ill-advised, perhaps even terrible decisions—not being honest about your growing feelings for Steve and agreeing to dates with guys you weren’t really interested in. But you couldn’t help it. Not only had you promised Robin you’d stay clear of Steve, you were now close friends with him and he was best friends with Robin. It was complicated. It would be messy if things didn’t work out. And the likelihood of it working out felt pretty low—you had been let down so much by guys in the past that you were sure you and Steve would end the same way. You couldn’t risk ruining such an important relationship to Robin. You couldn’t do that to her.

“Yeah, no, I was—” you say, forcing a smile now as you tried to ignore the feeling deep in your gut as Steve’s laugh rang out again. “—but I dunno, I just—I wasn’t feeling it in the end.”

“Huh,” Robin hummed thoughtfully. “Maybe it was a sign.”

You nod—again not really listening. You were too in your own head. Too busy trying not to think about Steve and the redhead. Too busy trying not to feel like a terrible person for not being entirely honest with Robin—someone you shared every waking thought with since you were seven years old.

“No second date on the horizon then I take it?” Robin asks you just as the redhead says goodbye to Steve—you feel a knot in your chest as you wonder whether she had asked him out. Or worse, he had asked her out. It wasn’t out of the realm of possibility—Steve had a reputation after all.

You look at Robin then back down at the tapes.

“I mean—if he asks, maybe. Might have just been a fluke,” you say, trying to convince yourself more than anything.

Robin nods, though there’s something in her expression that you don’t quite know what to do with. But thankfully—Steve returns before she could question you further.

“Guess who has a date this Saturday,” Steve exclaims in a lilting voice, waving a slip of paper in front of you and Robin in which a phone number had been scribbled down on.

You’re sure that your face falls. Almost positive that your shoulders sag, just a little. But you force a smile on your face anyway. Pretend that it didn’t hurt.

And when you leave five minutes later to walk back to the pharmacy, you feel tears sting in your eyes as it finally hits you—oh no, you were falling in love with Steve Harrington.

oh, i'm falling in love

New Years Eve, 1985

Jack—your latest distraction from Steve—had forgotten to pick you up and you were beginning to wonder if you were cursed.

The New Years Eve get together at Steve's house was supposed to be the first opportunity for your friends to meet Jack. Truth be told, you had been dreading it. You knew Robin nor Steve would not have liked Jack. He talked too much over you, he seemed to prefer his friends and he couldn't even pretend to care about the things you were interested in even if he tried. Which is why you weren't too surprised he hadn't shown up.

You wait anyway—just in case.

But of course, Jack doesn't show. You don't even bother to call him to check where he was—you had a feeling he wouldn't answer anyway. So you drive to Steve's house alone.

It was only a small get together—you, Robin, Steve, a healthy amount of alcohol and empty house since Steve's parents were in Aspen. And that redhead that Steve had been out with two months ago? Didn’t even make it to a second date. You tried not to be too happy about it.

You hadn't ever been to Steve's house before. Despite being friends for nearly six months now—he was hesitant to let both you and Robin into his space. You had a feeling you knew why. You knew he lived on the affluent side of town. You knew he had a pool, more bathrooms than necessary and his dad owned enough cars to require two garages. It wasn't that he was ashamed of his family's wealth. It was more his family that he didn't want you nor Robin exposed to.

But with his parents in Aspen, there was no risk of you running into them tonight.

And so, you pulled into Steve's driveway in your dusty, old, beat up Ford Escort which you parked carefully behind his beamer. The look of amazement on your face at the sheer size of his house didn't leave your face—even as you walked up to the front door and rang the bell.

The heavy front door opened in less than ten seconds to reveal both Steve and Robin—wearing some truly ridiculous glittery golden party hats and each with a plastic kazoo in their mouth. You vaguely recognise the song they were trying to play was auld lang syne and you let out a laugh at the greeting.

But Robin abruptly stops, kazoo falling from her lips after her eyes flicker behind you.

"Where's Jack?" She asks you as Steve mirrors her, the noise from cheap plastic instrument ceasing instantly.

"He didn't show," you tell them with a small shrug. "His loss, right?"

"You're right. Fuck him," Steve says simply, shoving a kazoo in your hand while Robin forces a party hat on your head.

It was hard not to smile around Steve and Robin—especially when you weren't really upset that Jack had ditched you. And especially when Steve was wearing a jumper that hugged his arms nicely.

The evening passes in it's usual routine—movies, junk food and Robin rambling about a small interaction that she had with Vickie during band practice two weeks ago. The addition of alcohol had meant the suggestion of some truly ridiculous drinking games.

And as midnight drew ever closer, you found yourself feeling tipsy and as a result, your eyes kept flickering over to Steve. You couldn't help it. He just looked so good—and you could smell that warm, vanillary scent you had smelt on his jacket that night in the rain.

No matter how hard you tried—and oh boy, had you tried—you could not get Steve Harrington out of your head. He had seemed to taken refuge in your skull and refused to leave. Your days were spent thinking of excuses to see him. Your nights thinking of reasons to call him. Even when you were with Jack, you were thinking about Steve.

Your attempts to brush aside your feelings had been a colossal failure and in your near drunken state were impossible to ignore. And the mix of vodka wasn't helping either. You were tucked between him and Robin on the couch in Steve's basement and all you wanted to do was curl into him and stay there for the rest of time.

"You okay?" Steve asks suddenly, pulling you out of your thoughts. You blink, looking over at him—eyes slightly unfocused due to the alcohol.

"Yeah," you say quietly, looking over at Robin who was looking through Steve's impressive collection of cassette tapes.

"You don't seem it," Steve observes. "Is it because Jack didn't show?"

You let out a small laugh—because Jack? Well, you didn't really care that he didn't turn up. In general, you never really cared much about him. Which was fine since it was clear he didn't care much for you either.

"Nah. Just got—stuff on my mind," you murmur quietly, taking a quick sip from your drink as you pray that Steve doesn't press you for any more information.

But it's Steve and he cares about you.

"What stuff?" He queries, head tilted as he looks back at you.

"Just...stuff."

Steve looks as though he wants to ask—in fact, he opens his mouth to do just that. But then Robin is yelling from across the basement, "I FOUND MADONNA!"

When midnight came and you all wished each other a happy new year—you felt an immense feeling of sadness that you weren't quite sure what to do with. You couldn't even pinpoint what you were sad about. Perhaps getting stood up had actually upset you. Perhaps it was having to listen to Steve talk about his most recent hook-up. Perhaps it was these all consuming feelings you had for him. Ones you knew you couldn't act on without ruining everything. Your stomach churns, your heart races and your eyes begin to sting—

"M'gonna go bathroom," you murmur to your drunken friends suddenly, slipping off the couch. Robin hums in acknowledge but Steve watches you closely. You don't see it but his eyes follow you all the up the stairs and out his basement door.

The moment that you're alone one of his many, many bathrooms—you burst into tears. It was probably the alcohol—no, it was most definitely the alcohol—that was making you this upset. But you knew deep down it was because of Steve.

Because you were so fucking in love with him. And he had no idea.

"(y/n)? You okay in there?"

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

Of course it was fucking Steve.

You wanted to yell back 'I'm fine, Steve!' but instead? You let out a loud and audible sob, your knees buckling as you slid down to the floor beside the large freestanding bath.

Steve walks in before you could even think about protesting.

"Oh, (y/n)," he hushes you gently, sinking onto the floor beside you as you cry. "What's wrong? Why are you—"

Fuck. He was so kind. So caring. So compassionate. It made you want to shove him away. To tell him to leave you alone. To stop being so nice all the time. Because it was making your heart beat faster. Making you fall harder—making you want to just rip the band aid off and tell him.

“It’s n-nothing,” you say with a shake of your head, sniffling as you force a smile—fat tears spilling down your cheeks. “Really it’s—”

Steve tuts, fingers gentle as he brushes the tears away. “It’s not nothing if it’s making you this upset.”

“I’m just d-drunk,” you insist. “Shouldn’t h-have done so many shots.”

“Yeah,” Steve murmurs quietly with a soft smile, thumb rubbing your cheek and looking at you carefully—Steve maybe reasonably tipsy but he was still looking out for you. Always. “Are you sure it’s just the alcohol? Nothing else going on?”

You swallow. You hate the way he can read you like an open book. Hate the way his big, brown puppy dog eyes looked at you like you mattered. It made your chest feel tight and your tongue feel loose.

"I'm s-such an idiot," you sputter out, wiping away your tears as they fall. "Bi-biggest dumb i-idiot—"

"No, no, you're not an idiot. Not at all,” Steve murmurs, shifting closer to you and dropping his hand from your face in favour of grabbing you a tissue. “Why would you think that?"

The words are right there—on the tip of your tongue. Had you been sober, you would have swallowed them down. But you were drunk and emotional and not thinking straight—

"Be-because I'm in l-love with yo-you."

The silence that meets those words is deafening.

The piece of toilet roll that Steve had grabbed for your tears falls to the floor between you.

Your eyes are wide in horror—you feel like you’re going to be sick and Steve? Steve just looks as though he’s in some state of shock. Not saying a damn word—just staring at you as though you had grown an extra head.

And then—

“Here,” he murmurs, grabbing the piece of toilet paper from the bathroom floor and handing it to you.

You take it, your eyes on his face as you wait for him to say something. Say anything about your drunken confession but—

“I think you need to sleep this off, (y/n). You’re drunk and—and you’re upset about Jack not turning up and not thinking straight.”

“Steve—”

“There’s a spare room down the hall,” he tells you, standing up and avoiding eye contact now. You could physically feel your heart splitting in two in your chest as he purposefully put distance between you. “Sleep it off, yeah?”

“But Steve—”

But he slips out the bathroom without another word. Without even a glance back at you.

And you understood why—because Steve didn’t love you and he didn’t want to break your heart anymore than he already had.

New Years Day, 1986.

You left before Robin or Steve had woke up.

You were incredibly hungover—head pounding and stomach churning with whatever connotations you had consumed last night but you slipped out of the Harrington house just after sunrise anyway.

The entire drive home, you were replaying the conversation with Steve over and over again in your head. How sweet he had been. How he had held your face like you were something precious. How you had certainly bulldozed your friendship with him with a drunken confession. How he had left soon after—leaving you with a piece of tissue and a heart that had been cracked open.

You park up outside your house after what felt like the longest drive of your life and just—sit there. Staring down at the steering wheel as you blink away tears, remembering the look on Steve’s face. Him walking out after you told him you loved him.

You get out of your car and head inside before you started balling your eyes out again.

The day was spent curled up on the couch. You waited by the phone because there was a part of you that hoped Steve would call. He didn’t. He eventually call Jack and end things with him. He didn’t seem too bothered. Your mom hoovered—clearly wanting to ask what was wrong but not wanting to pry. So instead, she offered you chicken and mushroom soup and some homemade sourdough. Which despite how lovely it smelled, you couldn’t stomach right now.

Just as you start to feel a little less zombie like and head into the kitchen to get yourself a glass of water—the doorbell rings.

You swear your heart stops. Because if it was Steve maybe you hadn’t ruined things. Maybe he felt the same, maybe—

“Oh, hi Robin!”

For the first time in your life, you’re disappointed to learn Robin Buckley was at your front door.

You set down your glass of water, that awful feeling rising in your stomach again, making you feel clammy and wanting to crawl out of your skin. You try and catch your breath as you hear your mom and Robin converse out in the hallway. You didn’t know what Robin knew—what Steve had told her. Whether Robin knew everything or nothing at all. The thought of Robin knowing that you hadn’t been honest with her—that you had broken a promise to her—made an unpleasant mix of worry and dread fill your insides.

“Is (y/n) here?” You hear Robin ask your mom—you can’t tell from her tone what she knew. Whether she was about to yell at you about Steve or ramble to you about Vickie again.

“She’s in the kitchen—she’s incredibly hungover.”

Wow. Thanks Mom.

You waited in the kitchen. Knuckles white as you grip the countertop—too scared to walk out of the kitchen and face your best friend.

“Jesus—you look like hell.”

You let out a small laugh, turning your head to meet Robin’s gaze—she looked pretty hungover too. Just not as emotionally distraught as you.

“Thanks, Rob.”

You look at each other then for a few moments and in the silence—you know she knows. Because Robin was never quiet. Never without some sort of story from her walk over or observation about how many house plants your mom had.

“Did he—”

“Yeah, he told me.”

You blink. Feeling your eyes sting and your face grow warm.

“I’m so sorry,” you say weakly, standing up straight to look your best friend in the eye—despite how much you wanted to run away and never look back. “I’m really—”

“Why are you sorry?” Robin asks gently, genuinely confused by your apology.

“Be-because I wasn’t honest with you.”

“(y/n), by the sounds of it, you had a lot of shit to work through, I’m not upset about it.”

“But I promised you that I wouldn’t fall in love with him.”

Robin blinks—perplexed and then—

“Dude—” she laughs, taking a few steps closer to you and wrapping an arm over your shoulder. “—that was back when he was my second sworn mortal enemy. Back when I thought all he cared about was his car and his stupid hair. Before I knew he was actually great guy beneath all that hairspray. Please don’t say you’ve been beating yourself up over that.”

You don’t say anything which was answer enough. Robin gives you a sympathetic smile.

“(y/n), if you’re in love with Steve—that’s okay. Really, it’—”

“Oh, you’re talking about Steve!”

You and Robin both jump at the sound of your mom’s voice—coming from the kitchen doorway where she stands with a smile on her face.

“The one with the nice car? He’s cute!”

“Mom!”

“What? Just saying—I wouldn’t mind if he was over here a little more—”

Robin tries not to laugh as you groan, face hot in embarrassment.

“Mom, please—”

“Alright, alright!” Your mom puts her hands up in surrender. “I’m gone!”

Robin’s laughter dies down and you take a deep breath—trying not to think about the absolute mess you had created with too much vodka and loose lips.

“You’re really not annoyed at me?” You ask Robin carefully.

She smiles at you and shakes her head, arm dropping from around your shoulders to face you fully.

“(y/n), you’re my best friend. It’s going to take a lot more than a guy for me to be mad at you. I understand why you didn’t tell me and the whole breaking a promise thing? I forgot I even said those words to you to be quite frank. So no—I’m not mad. Not in the slightest.”

The relief you feel is like a cool, soothing balm.

“God, I feel like such an idiot,” you blurt out, covering your face with your hands in frustration.

“Yeah, the bathroom confession wasn’t your finest moment,” Robin says evenly. “But hey—you didn’t throw up on him. That counts for something, right?”

“I probably made him so uncomfortable,” you murmur into your hands in shame. “He probably hates me.”

“Hate you? Why would he hate you?”

“Because he-he doesn’t feel the same and I just word vomited over him and—”

“(y/n), Steve does not hate you. Believe me.”

“Then why did he just leave?” You ask Robin.

“Because—” Robin looks as though she’s choosing her next words carefully, eyes flickering away from you for a brief moment before she looks back at you. “—because you were drunk and upset. He thinks that—that Jack not turning up last night had really upset you and that—you didn’t really mean what you said.”

“But why would he think that?”

Robin looks torn—really torn—and you’re not sure why.

“I think you need to talk to him,” she says finally. “His parents are still out of town. You could go over tonight and—”

“No,” you interrupt her. “Absolutely not—”

“(y/n)—”

“No, Rob—I’m not going to embarrass myself anymore than I already have.”

“You’re not going to embarrass yourself—just talk to him before jumping to conclusions.”

But you’re already shaking your head—too stubborn, too scared to face Steve.

“I can’t Robin, I—”

“Yes—you can,” Robin tells you firmly—speaking with such conviction it surprised you. Robin was hardly ever firm with you that you couldn’t help but be silenced by the look she gave you. “You can and you will. (y/n), I’ve seen you fall in love so many times. Mainly with guys who didn’t deserve it. With guys who didn’t have any sense about them, guys who didn’t know what self care was, guys who thought with the wrong head, guys who—”

“Alright, I get it,” you interject, your face warm.

Robin smiles at you sheepishly. “Point is—I’ve seen it. I’ve seen a lot and—I think the reason you’re so scared to talk to him isn’t because you think he’s going to reject or whatever. You’re scared that he won’t—that this is the real thing. You’re scared of it actually working out.”

It’s quiet then. It’s so quiet that you could hear the hum of the refrigerator. The sound of your next door neighbours’ dog barking. The sound of your heart thumping against your chest.

Because Robin was right.

She was so incredibly right.

Being rejecting would hurt. But you could handle it. But falling in love, for real this time? Not just with the idea or potential of someone like you had in the past—but with them. Flaws and all. Yeah—that shit terrified you.

“You said his parents are still out of town?”

You stared at the doorbell for what felt like hours—but in actuality was only a few seconds. Trying to find the courage to press it. To ring Steve Harrington’s doorbell and hope he doesn’t ignore you.

You take one shuddering deep breath before you ring the doorbell.

Part of you hope he doesn’t answer. Hoped that he was out—perhaps at the supermarket, maybe he was dropping Dustin Henderson off at the arcade like he sometimes did. Or perhaps he had fled the country after last night or even—

The front door opening pulls you out of your thoughts and the man who had taken hostage of your mind was standing in front of you.

“Hi—”

“—Hi.”

You say it the exact same time and when Steve smiles—your heart does something funny in your chest.

“Robin send you?” Steve asks, one arm propped up against the doorframe, eyes on you.

“She did,” you say with a small nod. “She’s very persuasive. Almost no threat of physical violence required.”

The corners of Steve’s mouth twitches and feel a sense of relief—he wasn’t running. He didn’t seem disgusted or annoyed at you. He was, just Steve.

“You wanna come in?”

His face gives nothing away—nothing to indicate whether you were about to be humiliated and rejected for a second time or whether he was going to confess his undying love for you. Your stomach flipped at the thought of the latter. But you couldn’t get your hopes up.

And so, you simply nod and Steve steps aside to let you in.

It was early evening, the sun just starting to set. Winter sun hit the cream coloured walls of the Harrington house as Steve led you into the living room. You notice a chandelier you hadn’t seen last night. Hunting trophies that belonged to Steve’s dad. A ridiculous amount of decorative plates on display. A distinct lack of photos from Steve’s childhood.

“You, uh, you want a drink?” Steve asks awkwardly, scratching the back of his neck as you sit down on the couch.

“Water’s fine,” you tell him.

“Still hungover then?” He asks casually and your hands twitch.

“A little.”

He nods and leaves the room. Leaving you sitting on his couch wondering what to do with your hands—you won’t stop fidgeting. Trying not to think about the inevitable conversation about to happen. You wondered if Steve was as nervous as you. If he was thinking of all the ways to gently let you down. Or if he was spiralling like you were.

When he returns with your glass of water again, he gives nothing away. Just sets it down in front of you on the coffee table and sits down beside you. Close enough that you felt his presence but far enough away that left you wondering what was about to happen.

Steve clears his throat, foot tapping against the plush—probably expensive—carpet before being the one to break the awkward silence. “So, um—last night was—certainly something.”

Your face warms, eyes flickering away from him. “Yeah—that’s one way of putting it.”

It’s quiet again. Both of you apparently too scared to speak. His foot taps and your hands ball into fists on your lap.

“I’m really sorry,” he finally blurts out and you’re so surprised by his apology that you look at him. His brown eyes are fixed on you an you want to look away but—

“Sorry? For what? I’m the one wh-who threw all that on you while I was drunk.”

“I know, I know,” Steve says. “But I—I shouldn’t have left. You were drunk and upset and I shouldn’t have just walked out like that.”

You blink. “It’s okay, Steve. Really. You were under no obligation to stay after all that.”

“But I should have,” Steve insists. “You—fuck—you were just so upset an-and I figured it was because Jack—”

“Jack?” You repeat.

“Yeah—Jack. He didn’t turn up and you seemed really down a few drinks in.”

“Steve, I wasn’t upset about Jack—”

“—Clearly you were if you got so drunk you told me you were in love with me.”

There’s that silence again. That suffocating sound that steals the breath from your lungs.

You could deny it. It would be so easy to do so. To tell Steve it was just a drunken mishap. Just you being a blubbering, drunken mess who confessed her love for guys who were nice to her after being let down. That you didn’t mean it. You could protect your friendship with him and move on. Maybe even laugh about it one day. But the thought you denying your feelings at this point felt impossible. No matter how you tried and tried to stuff your feelings for Steve Harrington into a neat box—they poured out. Leaking out of the cracks and into your veins. You couldn’t lie to yourself nor to Steve for a moment longer.

“I said that I was in love with you, because I’m in love with you,” you tell him simply—eyes flickering up to meet his and waiting for your heart to either break or be put back together.

Steve looks at you for a long, long moment. Neither of you speak. He's just staring at you, apparently at a loss for words.

You’re preparing yourself for the rejection. For his ears to turn red—his eyes to look at you sympathetically as he lets you down easy. For him to tell you he was flattered but you were just a friend.

Just a friend. Just a friend.

“Really? Because Jack—”

“Steve, please, stop talking about Jack,” you interrupt him in exasperation. “Jack’s just—he’s just a distraction. Someone who I—I just kept seeing so I could ignore my feelings for you. Someone who isn’t anything like you. And guess what? It didn’t work. I ended things with him earlier. He didn’t care. So please—please stop talking about him. I’m not in love with him—hell, I’m not even sure I ever liked him. It—it’s you that I’m in love with.”

“You—you’re really in love with me?” Steve asks and you watch as he sits up on the couch, instinctively leaning closer to you. You don’t read into it but you feel your face warm anyway.

“Really,” you confirm with a nod. “Stupidly so.”

Steve looks at you with those big, puppy dog brown eyes of his as though he was trying to read your mind.

“Are you trying to work out if I’m lying or not?” You question, face burning. “Because I don’t know how else to prove—”

But your next words are silenced as Steve hands—those stupidly big, veiny hands of his—cup your jaw and before you could register what was happening, he presses his lips to yours.

Time slows. The world might stop spinning. Everything zeros in on Steve lips moving against yours like this was where he was always meant to be.

You come to your senses within seconds, your hands finding the front of his shirt and fisting it tight in order to keep yourself grounded—to remind yourself you weren’t dreaming—as you kiss him back.

The second your lips move back against his? Steve's groaning into the kiss—deepening it and making your stomach do several loop de loops. You could have kissed him for hours, days even. But before you could get too carried away on his couch, you pull away from him—your lips wet from his saliva and swollen from his kiss.

"Was that to test me?" You murmur quietly, eyes flickering between his as your fingers remained curled into his shirt.

Steve smiles at you, hands returning to gently hold your face. "Yeah—wanted to be sure."

"Why?"

"Because I'm in love with you too, you idiot," Steve tells you and his confession takes the breath from your lungs. Makes you feel warmth like you hadn't felt before, deep in your chest. Your heart feels ten sizes too big. "I thought—last night you were just sad and drunk after Ja—that guy didn't show. I thought you just said it because I was just there and—I left because I—I thought you didn't mean it."

"And now I feel like an idiot for leaving because you were crying and sad and you really loved me and now I feel bad and—"

You hush Steve with another kiss. Soft—reassuring. Everything he needed and more. He wants to pull you closer. Tug you onto his lap and learn everything he could about your body. But he needed to be a gentleman. Wanted to get things right for once. And so, he pulls away—breathing heavily as his hands moved down to your waist.

“Don’t feel bad,” you murmur to him quietly. “I was a drunk idiot. But a drunk idiot who loves you.”

Steve tries hard not to smile. Fails miserably. Pulls you in for another kiss. Then another. And another. Until you’re falling back against the couch and smiling each others lips and then—

The sound of Steve’s house phone ringing tears you away from each other.

Steve laughs and you share a knowing look.

“Robin,” you say in unison before your lips find each other again, letting the phone ring. Letting Robin wonder—just for a little while—exactly what had happened between you and Steve.

She’d learn soon enough anyway.

dividers by the lovely @zclhs

This was your second year returning as a camp counsellor. You were a Pineridge attendee from when you were seven right up until you were sixteen, never ever missing a year. Some of your fondest memories and friendships were formed in the rustic wooden cabins and around the bustling campfires, still keeping in contact with some today.

Last summer, just after you’d graduated from high school, your Mom had told you that she’d seen in the newspaper that Pineridge were looking for counsellors that summer. You practically leapt over the table to grab the nearest paper, desperate for one last summer to relive some of the best of your life. 

And you were off but a few weeks later, packing bathing suits, your walkman, extra sunscreen and your old Converse into the back of your car and ready to jump right back into camp life. 

Your cabin last summer was off near the lake, a perfect view of the glistening water out of the wooden window. In your bunk, you had six girls in there and another counsellor, Sarah. All of the girls were sweet as sugar, excited to get stuck into all the activities. 

“Do you think Steve is coming back this year?” One of the girls whispered to the group as they gathered on one of the beds, a few of them fanning themselves at the mention of Steve’s name. 

“Oh, I hope so! Do you remember last summer when he won that canoe race? Oh my god!” Their giggles were filling up the room, loud enough for you to be pulled from your backpack that you were unpacking to turn around to Sarah. 

“Who’s Steve?” Your voice was a whisper as you pulled out one of your books, placing it in your designated drawer next to your bed. 

Sarah’s head turned to glance back at the twelve year olds still giggling and sharing their favourite stories about this mystery man before looking back at you. “Steve’s kind of a legend around here. He’s been a counsellor for the last two or three years, I think? He is super hot, so not surprised they’re still talking about him.” 

You laughed softly at her words, nodding as you moved onto unpacking the clothes from your duffle bag. 

But, there was no Steve last summer. Not that you were waiting, but you’d be lying to yourself if you weren’t a little bit interested about the guy that had all of the girls at Pineridge wanting him, and all of the boys wanting to be him. 

This summer was no different. The drive up to camp felt the same, you still recognised every droopy tree and road sign from the back seat of your Dad’s truck when you were seven, anticipating the feeling of your car bumping beneath the stones toward the entrance of the camp. 

You were assigned to the same cabin with Sarah and quite a few of the same girls. You drove up a day early to be prepared for when all of the kids arrived, excited to catch up with each of the girls and hear about the last year of their lives. To find out if they’d ended up joining the theatre club, or if they got that bike for their birthday they really wanted.

Awaiting their arrival, you were laying on your bed reading one of the books your friend from college had given you to read over the summer, when Sarah came tumbling through the cabin door. 

“Hey, c’mere, look,” Sarah practically hissed at you as she shut the door behind her, pressing her body into it to look through the screen of the door. When you stayed put, she turned over her shoulder to beckon you over desperately. “Come on, look!”

With a small sigh, you pushed yourself up from the creaky bed. Your Converse padded against the wooden boards until you were close behind Sarah, looking out through the screen at all the counsellors arriving. “What am I looking at?”

Sarah groaned exasperatedly, grabbing onto your arm and pulling you back slightly to pull the door open. The two of you stepped out onto the porch of your cabin, your eyes squinting as they adjusted to the sun, desperate to find what you were meant to be looking for. 

“Steve Harrington.” Was all Sarah said with a dreamy sigh. 

Your eyes landed on him then, and God, was everybody right. He was gorgeous. His skin was sunkissed and freckly, practically glowing under the summer sun. The heather grey Pineridge t-shirt he was wearing looked slightly too small, fabric pulling around his bicep. 

But you dismissed it when Steve raised his hand to high-five another counsellor, the hem of it rising to reveal a small pudge of his stomach, the shadow of a trail of darkening hair and even more freckles. 

“He’s alright.” You lied through your teeth as your arms snaked across your chest. You found it hard to tear your eyes away from him, especially when he turned his hands dropped to his hips and his body turned toward you, his eyes scanning the rest of the cabins. 

Sarah scoffed from beside you with a small shake of her head, “Alright? Do you have eyes? Look at him, he’s– Oh my God, he’s coming over here. Shit, act cool, okay?” Her voice lowering a few octaves as her sentence ended, causing you to huff a laugh through your nose. 

“Sarah,” Steve grinned as he crossed the pathway toward your cabin, he stood on the first step as he lifted his hand from his hip to push through his hair. “Thought you’d be off in Europe or something this summer.” 

“Oh, no, can’t stay away from Pineridge.” Sarah laughed gently, shifting her weight onto the other foot as her arms snaked across her chest. You watched the interaction, not able to help the small smile from appearing on your lips at the flush of her cheeks. 

“This your first summer with us then, new girl?” You heard Steve say, your brows furrowed gently as your eyes pulled from Sarah to look down at him. His eyes were dark hazel, the sunlight shining directly into them flashing a green at you which made the lump in your throat thicken. 

You shook your head gently, pursing your lips at him before speaking. “No, I was here last summer. And actually stayed in that bunk over there for nine summers of my life when I was a kid.” Your head dropped forward to motion to a cabin across from you, but Steve didn’t turn around, he just kept his eyes on you. 

“So, you don’t need anyone to show you around then?” His voice was almost teasing as he tilted his head, one of his eyes squinting shut to shield him from the sun. 

A small laugh escaped you as you shook your head gently, lifting a hand to push your sunglasses further into your hair as you flashed Steve a small smile. “No, I’m good. Thank you.” 

You could hear Sarah scoff from beside you, but you didn’t look over. Didn’t bear to look away from Steve, whose gaze was practically burning a hole through you. He just nodded gently, lifting a hand goodbye before making his way over to the next group of people he needed to greet. 

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” Sarah whispered through her teeth as she watched Steve wander over to the next cabin, before turning herself to look at you. “He was totally flirting with you! He wanted to show you around!” 

“Mm, I think he was just being nice.” You returned with another laugh, taking a few steps to hold the door open for you both to go back inside. Sarah sauntered in first, rehashing the conversation that had just happened twenty seconds ago. 

You stepped in after her, stealing a quick glance over your left shoulder to see Steve talking to another counsellor. But his eyes caught yours, and you watched as a small smirk crept to the corner of his mouth and he raised his hand in another wave. 

The rest of the day passed in a blur, you and Sarah preparing the cabin for the arrival of the girls, getting situated with the rest of the counsellors who had arrived throughout the rest of the day. 

But you didn’t see much of Steve after the kids came barrelling in over the next few days, you were looking after the girls and he was looking after the boys, your days were quickly filled with friendship bracelets and watersports that had you feeling like you were twelve again. 

And by the time five weeks had passed, you still only saw Steve in pieces. 

You’d see him briefly in the dining hall. You’d feel his hand hold onto your waist as he’d brush past you, leaving a tingle on your skin from where his palm had just laid. You’d see him on the lake when you’d take your girls out for the afternoon to canoe. He’d make sure to give you a bright wave and an even brighter smile, one that you’d be thinking about for the rest of the day. 

One night, after a particularly long day of listening to the girls fawning over Patrick Swayze, you snuck out of your cabin in the late hours of the night to walk to your favourite spot on the lake that you’d discovered on your third summer as a kid. 

Through some woodlands that the camp didn’t really use anymore, there was a small trail that led to a small dock onto the lake. It was serene and silent, exactly what you were craving after a day of listening to twelve year olds screaming. 

You found your spot with ease, like your body still remembered the exact steps it would take to get there. You wandered down the dock, pushing off your converse and tugging off your socks so you could dangle your feet in the water as you perched on the edge of it. 

“Thought this was my spot.” You heard a familiar voice from the bay of water to your left behind you, a voice that sent a single shiver straight down your spine. 

You turned your head over your shoulder to see Steve now making his way down the dock with a teasing smile against his lips. 

A small laugh passed through your own as you leant back on one of your hands, angling your body to face him as he made his way closer to you. “I’ve had this one for years, you’re gonna have to try harder.” 

“Mm,” He hummed in return before kicking off his own shoes and sat himself beside you. His gaze was fixed out on the water, watching it ripple under the moonlight before turning his head to look at you. “I’m thinking this one isn’t so bad.”

You couldn’t help the small smirk that was tugging on your lips, shaking your head gently as you tried with all your might to pull your eyes from his, feeling yourself weaken beneath his gaze. “Well, we’ve only got a couple days left, so won’t have to share much longer. Maybe you can find a new spot by next summer.” 

“Ah, next summer. You’re gonna come back?” His voice was gentle, and you could see out of the corner of your eye that he was still looking at you. 

“Maybe, depends. Are you?” Your eyes watched the water glide around your feet as you kicked them back and forth gently, finally pulling your eyes to look back at Steve. 

“Maybe. Depends.” His answer caused a small laugh to push through your nose, using your other hand to lean back on as your head lulled back toward the water. “You’re different, you know.” 

His words made your legs pause in motion, swallowing down your words gently before tilting your chin to look back up at him. “I’m different, what do you mean?”

Steve shrugged his shoulders gently, his focus pulling from you back out to the lake. You felt him inhale gently before speaking, “I don’t know, can’t put my finger on it exactly. You’re just.. You. Not trying to be anybody else.” 

You felt your stomach tighten at his words. “Do you use that line on all your other girls?” You’d heard the stories from Sarah, the summer romances that Steve would have each year. 

Obviously, you’d spent a few nights falling asleep thinking about what that would be like, but you’d only had a handful of conversations with him. But the way that he was looking at you now, you were fighting every urge within you not to grab that stupidly tight t-shirt and pull him straight into you. 

“Oh, no. You’d know if I was using a line on you, trust me.” You could hear the smirk in Steve’s voice, and when he turned to look at you, it took the air from your lungs. 

“So, are you ready for the tournament this weekend?” You asked gently, mostly to distract yourself, you could feel the hairs on your arms prickling at the prospect of Steve using a line on you. 

“Oh, absolutely, born ready. My boys are ready to kick your girls’ butts.” He retorted with a slight tease to his voice, earning a playful eye roll from you.  

You scoffed sarcastically, trying your best to hide your smirk as you replied. “That I can’t wait to see.” 

The next few days were strict, each counsellor preparing their team for battle. Even though it was just a friendly tournament for the kids to come together for the end of camp, it always felt like the most important event in the world. It felt more significant than the Olympics. 

The tournament spanned over Friday and Saturday, and on the Sunday all of the kids would go home. The counsellors would have Sunday night to say goodbye. It usually consisted of a lot of beer, a bonfire, some card games, a chance to let loose before everyone went back to their own reality. 

Your cabin was up bright and early on Friday morning. Taking part in the famous canoe relay across Cedar Lake. Two campers from each team would paddle out, round the buoy and race back. Your cabin was representing the Red Hawks, all of you kitted out in your best red outfits and face paint. 

For this race, you were against the Blue Bears, which was the team that Steve’s boys were competing on. And by a miracle, your team beat out Steve’s by an inch of a second. You, Sarah and your team were too busy celebrating you didn’t have a chance to gloat about it to Steve. 

The next race was an obstacle course. Fitted with rope climbing, balancing beams, a tire run and a sprint finish. You were on the edge of your seat the entire game, your voice crackling from cheering on all of the kids, even the teams that weren’t your own. 

The Evergreens completed the obstacle course in record time, and you were one of the first to run over to congratulate them all, cheering with all the green children at their win. You saw Steve watching you out of the corner of your eye, giving you a small wink when you nodded your red baseball cap to him. 

After lunch, the next activity was tug of war. This was always your favourite when you were a kid as the counsellors could compete, which you always saw as an advantage. But you were slightly distracted from tugging on the rope when your eyes landed across the field, watching Steve. 

His blue t-shirt was slick to his body with sweat, quickly lifting his wrist to push the hair out of his face before landing back on the rope. Your eyes were glued to his biceps, watching the way that they flexed with each mighty tug. 

You were snapped out of your thoughts when the rope dropped from your grip, a blur of red jumping and cheering around you. You were so swept up in the win, you didn’t see Steve’s team win too. 

Since your team had won two games, you were automatically through to the big race tomorrow. It was now against the Blue Bears, The Evergreens and Golden Foxes to compete in the relay race to find out who you’d be up against. 

The entirety of the Red Hawks were waiting at the finish line at the other side of the lake. Different kids from each of the other times were paced out around the course, having to pass the baton to the next until the first person crossed the finish line. 

As the whistle blue, the tension was high. Kids were screaming and cheering their friends on whilst the counsellors were running alongside them, shouting encouragement into their ears as they passed on each baton. 

And as fate would have it, the Blue Bears won the race. Tomorrow, you’d be facing Steve in the race for the Golden Pine. 

Tradition on the first night of the tournament was a big bonfire in the middle of camp. All of the kids coming together after a day of competing to chatter over smores and soda, something that was only allowed on very special occasions. 

You were making rounds on your girls, checking they were all okay and had all the supplies for their smores when you saw Steve standing at the table pouring the soda into paper cups. 

“Hey,” You called out as you made your way over, pulling the cap off of your head and holding it behind you as you stood beside him. “Looking forward to tomorrow?”

Steve’s smile was undeniable as your shoulder knocked against his, he held out the cup for you which you accepted with a small nod. “Looking forward to beating your ass.” The two of you laughed gently, the corner of your cups hitting in a cheers before you took a small sip from it. 

“You guys were great today,” You spoke as you turned yourself around to look out at the kids sitting around the fire. “We’re gonna have to bring our A-game.”

Steve nodded as he turned around beside you, hiding his grin behind his cup before he tilted down to your ear slightly, his voice at a whisper. “I saw you with the other team earlier, celebrating with them.” 

Your brow furrowed gently as you glanced up at him, your lips parting slightly once you noticed how close to you he was. You played it off with a small shrug, before looking back out to the bonfire. “Well we are all one big team, really. Everyone deserves to be celebrated.” 

“So, you’ll find a way to congratulate me tomorrow then? When we win.” His voice was quiet, like it was reserved only for you. 

“Yeah, if you win.” You said with a small laugh, tipping the rest of the soda down your throat before placing the empty cup in his spare hand and returning back to your group before you said anything you might come to regret. 

The night ended soon after that, ushering all of the kids back to their cabins to get themselves ready for bed in preparation for the big day tomorrow. 

Once the girls were all in bed, you grabbed your towel from the hook next to your bunk and told Sarah you were heading off to use the showers. 

There was a small building behind the counsellors lodge where the staff showers were. You’d always get up extra early to go, but night showers were your favourite. When everyone else in the camp was in bed and you’d have the whole outhouse to yourself. 

The building had four showers on either side, the walls were quite short but there was enough privacy with the curtain pulled to, there were two mirrors and large sinks at the end near the toilets. 

It was around eleven o’clock. Every time you’d come and shower at this hour, it would be empty. But you could hear the hiss of the water getting louder as you approached, silently cursing to yourself you should’ve waited five more minutes. 

But as you pushed the door open, the water had stopped. And when you’d made your way in, Steve Harrington was coming out of the cubicle. His towel was wrapped low around his waist, his body wet and hair stuck to his forehead as his eyes met yours down the length of the small corridor between the stalls. 

“Thought this was my spot.” You parroted him from that night at the dock quietly as you forced your eyes to stay locked on his. Telling yourself not to look at the damp hair on his chest, and how it travelled lower, and lower –

“Sure this place is big enough for the both of us.” Steve spoke with a small smirk, reaching into the shower to grab a hand towel he’d brought to dry off his hair. 

For some completely unexplainable reason, maybe it was the high of winning the tournament today, or maybe it was the breathtakingly handsome half naked man standing only a few metres in front of you, all of your inhibitions seemed to drain from your body.

You swallowed down every thought telling you not to as you walked toward him, keeping your eyes on his as you turned into the shower stall that was opposite his own. You pulled open the curtain, dropping your toiletries on the ground beside you. 

“I guess it is.” You kicked off your flip flops, letting them land just outside the shower. Your fingers found your shorts, untying the bow holding them up and you let them pool around your ankles, you stepped out of them and kicked them toward your flip flops. 

Steve’s eyes widened at your actions, you watched his throat bob as you began to prepare yourself to shower – with your curtain pulled back, completely on display for him. 

“Wh–” Steve started as he watched your fingers wrap around the hem of your red t-shirt, you were slow to pull it up your body. Slow enough to let him stop you, to pull the curtain back to maintain your dignity and walk away like this never happened. 

But he didn’t. He dropped the smaller towel from his hand and stepped into your cubical, his hand lifting behind him to pull it shut quickly. 

Before you could register what was happening, his large palms were splayed at your waist, pulling you against him as his mouth met yours with hunger. You sighed against him as you threw your arms around his neck, the feeling of his wet torso against your stomach was enough for you to. 

His hands worked quickly, slipping up your back to wrap his fingers around the hem of your shirt to pull it over your head. He was hesitant in pulling his lips off of you, finding them almost instantly as the red fabric hit the floor. 

As your bare chest met his own, you could feel his tongue pressing against the seam of your lips. They parted with ease, a moan falling against him as you felt his tongue meeting with your own, like he was trying to coax something out of you. 

His hands slipped down your back, landing on the plush of your ass, gripping it between his fingers. He pulled his lips from your own, taking a moment to look down at you as your chests heaved against each other. “What do you want, baby? Tell me what you want from me, I’ll give it to you.” 

“You, Steve– I need you.” Your head rolled backward as his wet mouth began attacking your neck, messily sucking on any inch of skin he could find. 

His grip tightened on you as he walked the two of you a step backward so your back was against the cold tile of the shower, his hands slipping from your ass to your hips as his fingers wrapped around the band of your underwear. 

“Wanted this since the moment I saw you standing outside that damn cabin.” He spoke against your throat before tugging your underwear down with haste, his lips moving further down your body as he leant down to manoeuvre them down your legs. 

Your hands gripped his shoulders for stability as you stepped out of your underwear, a clipped moan passing your lips as Steve’s lips wrapped around your nipple. He groaned against your breast as one of his hands held himself steady at your waist, whilst the other softly dragged back and forth against the side of your thigh. 

“God, you’re a fucking dream,” Steve mumbled against you, his eyelashes fluttering as his gaze met your own. Your fingers pushed through his hair, your fingers curling around the damp strands as your teeth sank into your lower lip. “Let me hear you, baby. Wanna hear you moan.” 

Steve’s tongue toyed with your peaked nipple, leaving a trail of his spit as he was quick to move across your chest to take the other between his lips. You groaned at the feeling, your back arching off the tile to press further against him as his hand slipped to the back of your thigh. 

Before you knew it was happening, Steve had left your chest to drop to his knees. His hot breath was teasing against your stomach as his wet kisses inched lower, along with his palms. They were rubbing your thighs gently, grounding you as his lips brushed through the hair against your mound. 

As his lips were pressing closer to where you needed him most, his grip tightened on your thigh to lift up one of your legs to wrap over his shoulder. Your hands found his hair again, breathless as your chin tucked into your chest to look down at him. 

“You’re so wet, baby,” His voice was hoarse as he whispered, his nose pressing against you before his other hand holding your thigh rounded, his thumb pushing through your slit teasingly slow. “Need me to take care of you before your big day tomorrow, huh?”

“Please.” Was all you could manage. You felt him huff a small laugh from beneath you, his hot breath hitting your core as he pulled his head back slightly to watch his thumb disappear through your folds. 

A moan fell past his lips as your grip tightened on his hair, tugging on it slightly as his thumb notched against your clit. “You like that, baby?” He whispered as his lips found against your inner thigh, pressing wet kisses to your skin as his middle finger pressed against your entrance.

You could only nod as your head fell back against the tile, your hand pushing his head further toward where you needed him. “Steve, please.”

Before you could ask again, his tongue parted through his lips to finally lap through your folds. He was working his way through them like he was savouring every second, taking his time to explore every inch of you before his lips wrapped around your swollen clit. 

Just as you were about to beg him for more, two of his fingers sank inside of you, his thick digits filling you up and curling against you. Your back arched off the tile, a string of loud moans falling past your hips began rocking into his touch. 

Steve’s spare hand slipped to your hip, guiding your movements to work in tandem with his fingers. Each rock of your hips timing perfectly with the curl of his fingers, his tongue delving through your folds to taste every inch of you.

“Fuck– Steve,” You whined with pleasure, your head lifting from the tile to watch him ravish you. His eyes were shut, his grip pulling you further into him as his fingers curled against the spot inside of you that was already making you see stars. “I–I’m gonna come. Please fuck me, please.” 

His eyebrows raised at your words, pulling his lips from you to lean back to gage a better look at you. Your chest was heaving, your stomach tightening as his fingers continued to thrust in and out of you. You just nodded, your hand pushing from the back of his head to the back of his neck as you moved your leg off his shoulder. 

“A–are you sure? I don’t have anything.” His voice was tight as he lifted from his knees, his eyes boring into your own as he looked down at you, his fingers slipping in and out of you at an agonisingly slow pace. 

You sighed with each slow thrust of his fingers, your hand holding the back of his neck to capture his lips with your own. “I’m sure, I’m on the pill.” You whispered against him, a moan falling against your lips as he was careful to coax his fingers out of you. 

One of his hands pressed into the tile above your head as the other held your hip, his grip tightening on you as the two of you panted into each other’s mouths. The kiss was messy, his head tilting in an attempt to taste more of you, explore more of you with his tongue. 

Your hand pressed against his chest, your fingertips coursing through the hair that laid there before inching down his body. Your fingers untucked the towel that was wrapped around his waist, pulling your lips from his to watch it drop to the floor. 

“Fuck.” You mumbled at the sight of Steve’s cock as his lips pressed against your forehead, desperate to be touching you at any capacity. 

As your hand slipped around the base of his cock, your head tipped backward to capture his lips against yours. Steve’s hand slipped from your hip to hold the side of your neck, keeping you steady as he kissed you. 

You could feel his breath hitching against you as your wrist circled, jerking the silky skin of his cock with your hand. Steve released his grip on you, both of his hands gripping the backs of your thighs as he hauled you up. 

A small moan passed from your lips against his as your arm snaked around his neck, holding yourself close to him for stability. He was holding your legs in place around him, pulling his lips away from your own to watch his heavy cock in your hand. 

“Fuck, you look so fucking hot, baby.” He mumbled softly, words clipping as your thumb swiped across his tip, your gaze shifting to watch his face as you manoeuvred his cock between your folds. 

His hips shifted, taking over from you as your hand slipped to his shoulder for support. Steve’s eyes found yours as the tip of his cock brushed over your clit, his smirk growing at the small gasp that escaped you. 

“Just fuck me, Steve, I need you now,” Your voice was breathless, your body arching against his as the slow thrust of his hips rutted his head against your swollen clit. “Please.”

Steve nodded gently, lifting his chin to brush his lips against yours as one of his hands slipped to your ass, to hold you steady as his tip found your entrance. 

The first thrust of his hips was shallow, the air sucking from your lungs at the stretch of him entering you. Your hands grasped at his neck and his shoulders, using any part of his strong body to ground yourself as he inched in further. 

Your lips fell slack against his own, whimpering his name as he finally bottomed out inside of you. His kiss turned tender, gently brushing his lips against yours as he spoke against you, “Are you okay, baby?” 

You were quick to nod, desperate for him to move, to feel more of him inside of you. He nodded with you, quick to chase your lips with his own. His lips took your upper hostage as he pulled his hips back, thrusting into you with a tight gasp. 

“Fuck–” You managed against him, your nails digging crescents into his skin as his hips found a steady pace, stretching you further with each inch that he bullied into you. 

“So tight, baby,” He pulled his lips from your own, his brows furrowed in concentration as his hands held onto the backs of your thighs, moving your hips in time with each of his thrusts as his eyes watched you intently. “Such a tight little cunt, all for me. Tell me I’m yours.” 

Your back arched off the tile, your torso pressing against his own as his hips picked up their pace. Loud cries falling past your lips each time Steve’s cock bottomed out inside you, “I’m yours, Steve. Fuck– So good–” 

“Good girl,” He practically growled as his head dipped to your neck. His teeth scratching at your skin before soothing it with wet kisses, eager to mark you for everyone to see. “Are you gonna come for me, baby? Such a good girl, gonna come all over my cock?” 

Your cries only grew louder as you nodded, craning your neck aside to give him more access to your skin. The cold tile behind you was soothing against the temperature your body was running now, burning hot to the touch. Your hand shakily dropped from his neck to dip between your bodies, finding your clit with ease. 

Steve groaned against you as you began circling your swollen clit, your finger slipping slightly from a mixture of Steve’s spit and your own arousal. He could feel your pussy fluttering around his cock, spurring him on to fuck you even deeper as you preened under his pleasure. 

“Go on, baby. Use my fucking cock,” His voice was tight, nosing his way up to your jaw before lifting his head to look down at you. His eyes were dark, glassed over with lust as you whined beneath him. “Wanna see you come, feel your pussy coming for me.”

Just as you were about to let yourself go, you heard the door of the outhouse open and close, and footsteps rounding to one of the stalls beside you. 

You gasped, your hand between your legs stalling but Steve shook his head gently. He lifted one of his hands from your thighs and turned the shower on, the sounds of his cock filling you up now muffled by the water falling over you both. 

It was freezing cold, causing you to jolt under his touch. He looked down at you, his grip holding you steady as he slowed his hips down, silently asking you if you wanted him to stop. When you heard the other shower turn on, you decided it was fine. 

Your fingers resumed to toy with your clit as the other pushed over his shoulder to hold the back of his neck, your nose brushing against his as you panted beneath him. “I’m so close, Steve, please.”

Steve shifted your body gently, angling your lower half closer to him as he began fucking into you with fever. His broad shoulders tightening as his hands steadied on your ass, his eyes boring into you as he spoke with a tight whisper. “You have to be quiet, baby. Can you do that for me?” 

You parted your lips to speak, but were silenced when Steve’s hips drilled harder into you. With each thrust, he was hitting a spot inside of you that you didn’t realise possible. You were in ecstasy, not knowing whether to lean down to watch his cock disappear inside of you or to watch his face as he ruined you. 

“Such a good girl,” His voice was a hoarse whisper, cursing under his breath as he felt you tightening around him. His eyes found your own, his tongue parting his lips to wet his bottom lip as your thighs began to shake around him. “That’s it, baby. Come for me, please.”

Your orgasm hit you like a truck after his plea, and Steve could tell. His upper body fell into your own, his lips crashing against yours to muffle your moans as you came undone on his cock. Your cunt spasmed around him, your shaky hand working in time with his thrusts to work you through your high. 

Steve’s hips stuttered slightly, his thrusts pausing as he bottomed out inside of you. You could feel the thick ropes of his come leaking into you, his hips resuming shallowly, as if he was making sure it was in there well and good. 

His lips pulled from your own, taking a moment to look down at you before pressing another soft kiss against your lips. Steve slowly lifted you off of him, your hand bracing on the wall as you leant back against it to find your footing. 

“You good?” His voice was still a whisper, his chest heaving in front of you as his hand found your hip. He leant down to brush his lips beneath your ear, giving you a small squeeze as you nodded. 

Your hand found his chest, as your head lulled back against the tile with a small laugh. “Holy shit, Steve.” You whispered back, looking up at him to be greeted with a small smirk. 

Steve turned around to look at the toiletries that you’d dropped to the floor when you entered the stall, he leant down to grab the bag and retrieve your body wash that was in there. He squirted some into his hand, disregarding the bottle as he lathered up the soap in his hands. 

“Turn around, baby.” He whispered down to you, his head tilting forward to urge you to turn. A small smile tugged at the corner of your lips, your hand bracing on the wall as your legs shakily moved below you to turn your back to him. 

He used his pinky finger to gather your hair and push it over your shoulder, his palms splaying across your shoulders as he began working the soap into your skin. His large hands massaging your shoulders, down your back until they splayed at your waist. His lips lowered to your neck, tenderly pressing a kiss against you before whispering. “Please come back next summer.”

At the tournament the next day, the Red Hawks played an amazing game, all of the girls working so well together in their teams which was all that you could ask for. But unfortunately, the Blue Bears came out victorious. Their names would be in the Pine Cup hall of fame for years to come. 

After the celebrations, you manoeuvred your way through the crowds to find Steve who was already making his way over to you when he’d noticed. 

“Congratulations.” You beamed as you lifted your hand above your brow to shield you from the sun, a bright smile widening across your lips as he smiled down at you. 

“Thanks. I had some great motivation last night so, think that helped.” His hands dropped to his hips, his gaze looking out to all the kids celebrating as he spoke before landing back down on you. 

You couldn’t help but laugh softly at his words, recalling your rendezvous from last night. Your heart warms at the intimate memory of Steve washing you, before pinning you up against the wall and making you come for a second time. Then a third. 

“Well, I just came to say congratulations. And, considering the Red Hawks lost this year, I think it’s only fair I come back next summer. You know, bring them to victory.” Your hand dropped from your brow, dangling beside you as you tilted your head up to smile at him. 

“Next summer? Guess I’ll see you then.” Steve was trying his hardest to play it cool, to fight the smile that was tugging at the corner of his lips. Just as you were about to walk away, readying yourself to see him next summer, you paused. 

You lifted your hand to his shoulder, lifting yourself up to press a gentle kiss to his cheek. Your lips lowering to whisper in his ear gently, “If I don’t see you before we leave. You can call me, I’m in the book.” 

Safe to say, the next night when it was the counsellors night to spend together, the two of you made the most of it. You may not have won the tournament, but you definitely left camp with the biggest victory of all. 

teacake was about to get up and leave the bar when he saw you cross the threshold. he immediately sat straight after an hour of hunching over the table he was sitting at. his eyes followed you around the room, watching carefully the way your legs moved with decision toward what he inferred was your group of friends, the biggest smile plastered on your face.

“hey guys!” teacake heard you say as you took off the red scarf around your neck and took a seat.

it’s not nice to overhear. his own voice echoed in his mind, but he couldn’t help it.

“sorry i’m late” you apologized and pouted, pulling a string at teacake’s stomach who was now able to see you better from his seat right across yours. 

“what happened?” one of your friends questioned with a look on her face that told him they already knew what had been going on.

“jack– we– can we actually not talk about it?” you pleaded.

“what exactly?” the other girl continued, “the fact that you should’ve dumped his ass months ago or-”

“i said, can we not talk about it? in general, not just what happened tonight just, jack altogether, please.”

boyfriend.

travis’s shoulders slumped without him meaning to. he shouldn’t care, he didn’t know you so he had no business caring.

Still, his gaze drifted back to your table without him meaning to every couple of minutes, hearing in on the conversation and laughter that poured from your table, catching bits like: he keeps saying he’ll change… and then he has already said that, multiple times…

And as you laughed along, teacake could tell that it wasn’t completely genuine, that it was hiding truths you didn’t want your friends to guess. he was pretty sure he knew exactly what that truth was: your boyfriend’s a dick.

the clock ticked and he started to feel sorry for himself, with one last sip of his glass he had enough, reaching into his jacket for his wallet, leaving a few bills on the table as he pushed the chair back with a scrape against the wooden floor that was barely audible over the chatter and music.

But then, he caught another sentence in the sound of your voice “i’ll be right back” you told your friends and excused yourself from your table, walking over to the bar, to him, well… next to him. he saw how you, out of the corner of his eye, sit down on the stool right next to his, laying your elbows against the wood and rubbing your temples.

travis held his breath, suddenly not so eager to go.

the bartender asked you what you wanted to drink and you smiled apologetically “anything you’d recommend to someone who had a really shitty day.”

the bartender chuckled and turned around to prepare your drink and teacake didn’t move. he stared ahead, looking at his empty glass. there wasn’t really something stopping him from leaving. just like there wasn’t really something stopping him from speaking, “that’s a dangerous request,” he said, shifting his body so he saw the side of your face, “it can either be the best drink you’ve ever had or taste like downright gasoline.”

you glanced sideways and for the first time that night he got to see you up close. “so, it’s like fifty fifty?”

“basically yeah”

you laughed quietly, “well they’re not bad odds”

“no, they’re terrible odds,” he argued.

“yeah but probably not worse than what i’ve already had today,” the bartender placed a tall glass in front of you. teacake saw you eyeing it suspiciously before you took a careful sip, your face scrunched up “holy fucking fuck.” you gagged and he bit the inside of his cheek, “well, yeah it tastes just like gasoline”

a laugh escaped travis, it wasn’t loud, but it did surprise him.

“don’t laugh” you pointed at him.

he held his hands up, “i did warn you…”

a beat of silence followed, one where you extended your hand toward him, he took it “travis,” you answered with your own name and he repeated it, like testing it, seeing how it sounded coming from him.

“are you waiting for someone?” you asked.

“not really, but maybe… you,” he cringed at his flirting attempt but you smiled and lifted your brows.

“is that so?”

“i mean, i kinda overhead your conversation over there… boyfriend problems?” travis saw you tense up at his words.

“hopefully not for too much longer,” you drank again from your cup and decided that it was awful, pushing it aside.

he didn’t push further, letting the conversation settle into an easy rhythm over trivial topics neither of you two cared too much about, needing little effort to keep up. you made simple questions that required only short answers and no explanations. about work, and friends, and family, but never about your boyfriend.

you friends approached only once to check on you, looking at teacake with curiosity but not questioning it. they said they were leaving and asked if you were leaving with them and you shook your head, “i’ll stay for a bit” and of course he didn’t complain.

neither of you said anything when you found yourselves walking through the night the few blocks it took to get to teacake’s apartment. the city was quiet and very few cars passed you in the ten minutes you were walking; not that you were paying attention to them. in that moment you felt as if nobody else existed, the only other person being the charming hair-dyed guy next to you that didn’t stop talking, not even for a second… you loved it.

you noticed his step slowing down until they came to a halt in front of a not so tall building. “okay… this is me,” travis announced, walking to the door, opening it and stepping aside to let you in.

you smiled at him, ignoring the small knot in your stomach you were feeling as a consequence of your actions. but it dissipated once you remembered why you were doing what you were about to do, and the idea of breaking up with your boyfriend the next day crossed your mind for a moment. later, i’ll think about it later, choosing to focus on the man whose steps you were following down the hall.

teacake unlocked his apartment door and let you in. it was simple and surprisingly tidy, at least for what you were able to see given that the only light on was a tiny limp in the corner of his living room.

he didn’t waste time, encaging you against the wall, forearms on each side of your head and your mouths were so close that you smelt the alcohol on his breath and you were sure he could smell the remains of the awful drink you’d had moments ago.

“y’know… it’s not too late to back down if you want to,” he looked at your lips and licked his own.

you shook your head and a minute went by where you didn’t move. “y’know…” you copied him, “we could already be in your bed if you just kissed me”

travis smirked and answered by lowering his hands to your hair, sneaking behind your neck and pulling you against him, crashing your lips in a hungry, needy kiss; showing you how much he was thinking about taking you to his bed as well.

you let your hand travel upwards to his jaw, your thumb brushing across the stubble there and deepening the kiss by tilting your head. his reaction was immediate in the form of his tongue pressing your upper lip, asking for an opening, which you gave and felt him lick inside your mouth.

without breaking the kiss, travis started to walk backwards, stopping after a few steps when you almost fell and tapping the back of your thighs, signaling to jump up. you did and locked your legs around him as his hands found your ass and squeezed hard, making you grind against him and getting a moan out of you that got lost in between his lips.

he moved both of you to his room and dropped you, but his hands never left your body, finding a new home on your hips, were he sank his fingers through the fabric of your pants under your coat. you shimmied it off of you and let it fall to the floor. in a second and with no hesitation he pulled your top off and threw it behind you, he bit his lip at seeing you bare chested in front of him, cupping your breasts “god- look at you”

you wanted to see him too, of course you did; so, you tug at the hem of his white shirt seeking approval. “take it off, sweetheart” teacake agreed. you slowly pulled it up unhurriedly, lingering your gaze on each spot of skin you were revealing, especially on the line of hair that disappeared under the waistband of his visible boxers, and the patch of hair on his chest, where you ran your fingers through once the piece of clothing was out of your way completely.

“you’re gonna let me suck you off” your fingers hooked on his belt loops and pulled him closer, the mix of different types of alcohol from your kisses still lingering in your mouth. he looked even better up close as his tousled hair fell right in front of his eyes and you could see his moles clearer, too many to count but too pretty not to notice.

“do you want to?” teacake grabbed your waist. the tip of his nose grazed yours from the closeness between your bodies and you took the chance to get your lips on his jaw, drawing a trail of small kisses along it before moving over to his neck.

you spoke to his hot skin “yes i want it so bad,” your left hand went from his belt loops to the front of his pants where you could feel him already hard for you against the rough fabric. “and i think you want it too” you pressed slightly, getting a low moan out of him that immediately made you want to hear more.

travis just nodded his head enthusiastically, his mind already travelling a thousand miles per second, too fast to say anything coherent.

you got into your knees and started to undo his pants, working agonizingly slow just to tease him. you pulled the old pair of jeans down his legs and found yourself looking at the shape of his hard dick under the black cotton of his boxer briefs. you looked up at him and kissed it over the fabric, leaving a damp spot close to the one his precum had already left, “holy shit-” he cursed at the sight, “holy shit you look so pretty like that”

teacake furrowed his brows when he saw you get up, running your hands over his thighs, and along his torso on the way up to push at his shoulders. “lay on the bed,” you ordered, already enclosing him.

he let himself fall on his own mattress, sitting upright by resting his hands on the edge of the bed as he watched you kneel down in front of him. you looked into his eyes and travis nodded, signaling you to keep going before saying, “want to see how that pretty mouth of yours looks around my dick”. you didn’t take his underwear completely off, just lowering it enough for his dick to pop free from its restraint. it hit his low stomach and wet the happy trail that lead to its base and which you hadn’t been able to take your eyes off of since the moment you let his shirt fall to the floor. and you couldn’t help it but licking the strip, getting it clean from his own juice and wet with your spit.

travis let out a groan when he felt the warmth of your tongue on his skin and you wrapped your fingers around him, your hand hot from having been tangled on his hair while you were making out.

the slow twist of your wrist as you jerked him off at a slow pace sent his head back in an attempt to not let his mouth run free, but you wanted to hear him, all the sounds he made on how his rambled sounded when it was caused by pleasure. “don’t hold back, i love to hear you” you pleaded, your gaze locked on his adam’s apple until he forced himself to look into your eyes.

you got his dick closer to your face without breaking eye contact, something that drove him insane by the way you felt him twitch in your hand. your tongue met his flesh first, swirling around his tip and gathering his precum that you spread all over his length with the help of your thumb.

in that moment teacake realized he was not going to last too long. “jesus christ” he moaned and gripped the sheets under him hard, knuckles turning white “give me more- i need more, be a good girl f’ me”

you decided not to tease him any longer and let your mouth envelop his dick. your focus was on getting as much of him inside as you could, he was big and it wasn’t easy, but the moment his tip grazed the back of your throat teacake whimpered, the sound made you sigh and the vibration got him closer to the edge.

you bobbed your head, increasing the pace with each slide of your tongue along his undervein, never letting his cock get fully out before taking him in again. “fuck- just like that, you gonna choke on my dick,” teacake’s words send a rush of heat right to your core and you could feel yourself getting wet just from them.

the sound of your own spit mixing with his precum and travis’s continuous moans were the only sounds in the room, silencing any reminder of your boyfriend that didn’t have space in your mind at that moment, making the man inside of your mouth come was the only thing you could think about.

“yeah, keep going like that, fuck!” he encouraged you and grabbed a fistful of your hair, guiding your head up and down his dick in such a speed that had you holding onto his thighs so you wouldn’t lose balance. “i’m gonna cum, you gonna let me cum in your pretty mouth?”

“mhm” you hummed, your jaw was starting to get tired and a tear rolled down your cheek at the pressure, but it was brushed away by his thumb.

“shit- i’m close- i’m cumming” teacake warned, but you didn’t pull away. instead you hollowed your cheeks and instantly felt his salty and warm cum fill your mouth as he came hard. you kept him inside, waiting for him to come down. his grip on your hair let up and you stopped your movements, swallowing as much of his release as you could while still having his dick resting on your tongue. “let me see, show me your tongue” your lips slid off of him with a pop sound and you complied with his request, showing him how much of him was still on you before pressing your lips together to give tiny pecks along his length, stopping at his tip while you watched him try to catch his breath as he came down from his high.

when you got up you saw teacake breathing fast and straddled his lap, your still clothed but damp core against his semi-hard dick. “that was- wow” his hands had left you and were covering his face, rubbing harshly in sync with shaky exhales. you pulled him towards you by the nape of his neck and smashed your lips against his, instantly getting your tongue inside his own mouth, making him taste himself. “i’m gonna get you ready f’ me,” you barely had any time to register his words before he sneaked an arm around your torso, your back hitting the mattress before being dragged by your legs to the center of the bed where he took off your pants and underwear in one swift motion before he laid down in between your legs.

travis pulled your thighs apart, lifting them up and resting them on his shoulders as he made space for his head. you watched him carefully make his way up the inside of your thighs in a mindblowing pattern; he bit down on your flesh to then trace the skin with his tongue and ended up kissing it to soothe it.

you didn’t hesitate and let your fingers tangle in his dyed hair, twisting the longer strands. he found your center and immediately separated your lips with two fingers to press his tongue against your pussy. teacake didn’t waste any time torturing you as he sucked on your clit with rhythmic urgency, “fuck, your tongue feels so good i’m not used to it”.

he looked up at you and saw you already looking at him, “your boyfriend doesn't eat you out?” teacake knew the answer would be a negative one by the way you rocked your hips against his face as your body reacted to the movements of his tongue and his breath on your most sensitive part, looking for friction that’d help you satisfy yourself.

“never,” you confessed, followed by letting the sweetest sounds escape your throat and meet travis’s ears.

“not anymore,” he didn’t tear his gaze from you, no matter how hard you were pulling at his hair, and no matter how much he wanted to close his eyes from the mere pleasure of knowing he was making you feel better than the man who slept next to you every night ever could, “fucking asshole,” he whispered, more to himself than you; not like you would have been able to hear him over the beating of your own heart echoing in your ears. teacake decided to finish you off with his fingers teasing your entrance with two digits, “god you should see how perfect you look right now, all for me… “

he started pumping his fingers in and out of you in a relentless pace, your back arched and the heels of your feet buried down on his shoulders as a series of gasps and moans broke out of you, “please don’t stop,” you begged. your body twitched when he slid his fingers out of you, “look at how you’re dripping off of my fingers, you like that?” you saw your arousal coating his digits like never before. travis tapped them against your bottom lip, “open… that’s it” you took them in and sucked him clean.

he went back to your pussy, “cum on my mouth,” teacake pressed the pad of his thumb on your clit and started teasing it with circular motions that had you seeing stars. the tension finally snapped when he swirled his tongue in between your folds, making you hit your high all at once. from his place in between your legs he watched the way your breath hitched and your eyes rolled back, already getting hard again from the sight.

he worked you through your climax and drank you up completely as you came down, your body limp as it sunk down on the mattress. travis moved his mouth away from your cunt, and if you had been able to open your eyes for a second you’d seen the way he was tasting you. “such a pretty pussy,” he praised you “can’t wait to get my dick in it and see if you can take it”. he moved upward, sliding his naked body over yours slowly, taking you in as much as he could in the dark room.

when you finally came to your senses, you opened your eyes and saw him leaning on his side, propped up on his elbow, his face close to yours while he stared down and smirked at your disheveled state. “think you got one more in you f’ me?”

you didn’t answer, instead you reached up and pull him down, cupping his jaw to meet his lips in another desperate and even more needy kiss that tasted like both of you. it was all tongue and teeth, feeling him whimper into you when you bit his bottom lip and licked the spot after. teacake let his hands roam all over your body, trying to paint a picture on his mind of every curve of you to save it for later, when he knew he’d be alone and the only thing he’ll be able to think about will be this; you under him still wet from his mouth.

his dick was hard against your low stomach, and the sensation made you want him inside you, “fuck me.”

with a fast movement travis stopped kissing you and turned you around, your back on full display for him as he reached over to his nightstand and opened the drawer, pulling out a condom. he teared the wrapper with his teeth and instantly rolled the rubber down on his length.

over your shoulders you saw him positioning himself over you; his right hand around the base of his cock to press into your hole without pushing yet, your eyes caught his left hand right before it slammed on your ass, “shit!” you cursed at the heat it left on your skin.

“you’re still so wet,” teacake noticed by the way your own juice was already drowning him just from sliding against your core, without being inside you. he bit his lip at the sight; but that wasn’t enough to hide the moan that escaped it.

in one snap of his hips he buried himself to the hilt, “oh my god,” you cried out, feeling him everywhere. he waited a few seconds to start moving so you got used to his size and the pain from the stretch turned to pleasure, until you lifted your ass and pressed it against him, asking for more, “keep going”

he pulled out leaving only his tip in and started thrusting into you over and over again, “been thinking about fucking you since i saw you” travis told you, “you’re taking me so so well, fuck- so tight, bet he doesn’t even dick you down good enough huh?”

“no” you said breathlessly, unable to utter more words.

“i can feel you squeezing me,” he grabbed your ass to direct your own movements and make you meet him halfway, watching the spot where your bodies met, “tell me how’s it feel, tell me i’m better than him”

your vision got blurry and it took you a few tries in between moans to get any words out, “so- yes, right there-” you screamed when he hit your sweet spot.

teacake spanked you before getting his arms around your chest to squish your boobs, lifting you up and pulling you flush against him, the change in position had him reaching deep, “speak, is this how you like it?” he asked while slamming into your pussy.

“it feels so good- you feel so good, you’re better than him”

“you gonna cum f’ me again,” it wasn’t a question. one of his hands left your chest and made its way up to your neck, engulfing it but not choking. without thinking about it your fingers went to your cunt, feeling how swollen you were, although it did not stop you from rubbing them against your clit, “oh fuck- yeah, touch yourself” his movements were getting sloppy as seeing you play with your pussy while it clenched around him drove him close to his release. “you remember my name?”

you nodded.

“i want you to say it when you cum, loud” he bit down on your shoulder, kissing it after.

“i’m close, keep going,” teacake bucked once, twice before he heard you moan his name, “travis”

“i know baby, i know- just like that” the squeeze of your walls around him broke him as he thrusted into you one last time, he groaned right into your ear as he spilled inside the condom, “fuck-” he stilled, holding onto your shaking body for a moment.

he pushed himself off of you, flopping down beside you.

you looked down at him, his chest glistened with sweat and his hair was a mess, even more than before your fingers got lost in it. “‘m gonna go to the bathroom,” you announced and he just gave you a thumbs up.

—

you looked at yourself in the mirror, at the smudged mascara and messy, tangled hair and smiled, refraining from laughing at the situation you found yourself in. there was only silence inside and outside the tiny room, broken only by the sound of water falling from the tap as you gathered it in your hands and washed your face, trying to freshen up before coming back to bed.

you stopped in your tracks when you saw travis sprawled across the mattress, one arm over his stomach. what should you do? you weren’t staying over, not if he had fallen asleep. you would’ve considered it if he had asked you to, but he hadn’t.

so, you got into your clothes while you watched him. a strand of hair had fallen across his forehead and it gave you an idea, a childish one, but fun.

you searched the pockets of your coat and found the two things you were looking for, your lipstick that you sat on the nightstand and a hair tie that you slipped around your wrist. without putting too much weight close to him, as gently as you could so as not to wake him up, you gathered the loose section of his hair.

teacake sighed and you froze, waiting for him to settle again before you continued.

carefully, you divided the strand into smaller ones and weaved them together, one over the other with practised ease, making a tiny braid and securing it with the elastic.

you reached for the lipstick and went back to the bathroom, turning on the light so you could see what you were doing. you uncapped it and started to write in the mirror, your reflection looking back at you with a mischievous smile on your face.

you snore a bit, and under it, your number.

for a long moment you were just admiring your work. that was until your phone started vibrating in your pocket, pulling you out of your trance and making you hurry to the door, unable to catch another glimpse of travis sleeping.

—

the next morning teacake woke up in a confused daze, barely remembering where he was before he realized he was naked. the image of his bare body reminding him of what had happened the night before, of you.

“jesus…” he said to no one.

looking around he noticed how quiet his apartment was, the lack of clothes that weren’t his on the floor and thus, the fact that you had left at some point of the night.

he stood and stretched his back, stretching it while his feet took him to the bathroom. once he turned on the light he was hit with your little antic, “what the-” he leaned closer and reached for his forehead, his fingers catching the braid you’d so carefully done and he started laughing, not a small chuckle, but a laugh that his upstairs neighbor was probably hearing through the walls.

In the entirety of Steve’s life, he always kind of had you.

His mom met yours in the middle of a grocery story in 1972. Little six year old Steve clung to his mom’s leg, almost cowering behind her, as the six year old version of you practically sized him up.

You and your family were the new ones to move into the neighborhood that year and it was the Summer before first grade.

You wore a bright pink dress, a poofy one with flowers stitched along the hem and you had an adorable headband to match. Your shoes were white – well they were before you dirtied them up while planting flowers in your backyard.

Your eyes were bright as you looked at him. Your mothers talked for what felt like hours in the middle of the aisle, and you tried initiating your own conversation with the boy.

He was not interested.

But your lack of conversation that day did little to deter you. You showed up to his house the next day, sweetly asking his mom if he could come play. He begged his mom to make an excuse, even pretended to have a stomach ache but she insisted he needed more friends. She practically booted him out the door and into your lap.

Little you could tell he was apprehensive about playing with you. You were a girl – the new girl at that. And you seemed weird. You were loud and always singing some lame song. You didn’t care about the way dirt would cling to your fingers and clothes. You always stopped when you saw a squirrel crawling around.

You were annoying.

And Steve was smitten.

In 10 years, he has never – and as far as he’s concerned, will never – admitted how he feels about you. Either from fear or cowardice, he doesn’t even know.

But as the years went on, the childish things you guys did together morphed into slightly more sophisticated things. You rode bikes together, went to the movies. Steve even got roped into pulling pranks on your neighbors on Halloween of sixth grade.

Your friendship strengthened over time. Even through puberty and hormonal changes – you two were glued to each other. It was you and Steve against the world.

Steve sits on the carpeted floor of your bedroom, his long legs spread out in front of him as he mindlessly plays with the stuffed bears he won you at the state fair back in high school – tossing it in the air as if it was a ball.

You sit cross legged in your chair at your desk, one palm holding up your cheek as you try and complete your admissions essay.

The room is mostly quiet. The only sound comes from the soft thud the bear makes when it collides with his palm and the rustling of pages flipping and the erratic sound of your eraser sliding aggressively across the page every few minutes.

He’s been at your house for the past three hours and when he realized you weren’t budging on your work, he opted to stick around till you finished.

The only problem is you were stuck. You had absolutely no idea where to begin. Steve could tell just by looking at you. Your mouth is pulled down into a tight frown, a kink between your eyebrows. Your hair is a little messy from the way you’ve been pulling on it, something he knows will result in a headache later.

Steve watches the way your fists clutch the papers in front of you and crumple them into a ball, groaning furiously before you hurl the balled up paper to your trashcan.

And the way it misses.

You both watch as the paper bounces off the corner of the can and lands on the floor. Another angry curse slips past your lips before you drop your head – your forehead thumps against the textbook in front of you.

“This sucks!” You shout. It’s a little muffled from the way your face is buried into the hardcover but Steve chuckles from beside you.

He tosses your bear back onto the bed before moving to sit next to you. He leans his back against your desk and plants one hand on your thigh. His palm meets your bare skin, he squeezes it reassuringly.

“I don’t get why you’re stressing yourself out about it,” Steve says.

“I’m not,” You scoff against the book. You can’t see Steve when he gives you a pointed look but you can feel it.

“The pile of evidence over there says otherwise,” He deadpans.

Keeping your forehead against the book, you turn your head to peak at where he points. Sure enough, a fast growing pile of crumpled up papers sit in the corner – all somehow missing the trash can.

To say you were frustrated was a severe understatement.

You straighten in your seat, loosely crossing your arms over your chest. You still don’t look at him. “I have to get this right, Steve. This is the top internship for like, the best marketing company in the state. I’m up against some of the best candidates. One wrong word and I’m out,”

The confession hangs in the air between you two for a moment.

Steve tries to rack his brain with the right thing to say.

He can’t exactly say he relates because he doesn’t. It’s been two years since you both graduated and he gave up on college and is actually liking this new way of working with Robin to figure out what he wants to do.

But he knows you’re a hell of a lot smarter than he is. School has always been your thing and he also knows just how hard you can be on yourself.

Steve’s hands rise up to grab your chair. His large hands cover the sides and with a soft mutter of confusion from you, he effortlessly pulls the chair so you’re facing him.

You look down at him, eyes wide and curious. He still sits on the floor beside you and he keeps his hands pressed to the chair. A few more inches over and they’d be holding onto your thighs instead. He really wants to.

“None of those other people are you,” He says easily.

He sounds so genuine that your eyes soften. “You have to say that, you’re my best friend.”

Steve ignores the pinch in his heart at the term best friend.

“Yeah well, my best friend just so happens to be smarter than those other losers applying,”

His words pull a genuine laugh from you. It’s the first real laugh he’s heard all day and it brings a smile to his own face.

“Does that mean you think I’m a loser for applying too?” You tease.

Steve shrugs. “I already think you’re a loser, this has nothing to do with it,”

You scoff, a smile still plastered on your face. “Oh gee, thanks.”

“Don’t worry, I’ll be a loser with you,” Steve says. He gets hit with another fuzzy feeling in his chest when you smile at him.

It’s quiet for a few moments. There’s distant chatter coming from your family downstairs and the birds chirp through the open window. Steve watches you and he can already see the way the tension in your shoulders has already loosened.

Your fingers play with a tiny piece of thread hanging from the wrist of his henley. Every time your fingers graze his skin, he feels a bolt of electricity run through him.

It’s casual and delicate, the way you touch him so mindlessly, and he should be used to it but every time you’re close like this, he short circuits.

Still playing with the thread, you look back up at him. The furrow between your brows is back and there’s a thoughtful look in your eyes.

“Do you..” You trail off and try to find the right words. “Do you think I’m good enough for it?”

Your voice is so gentle and hesitant, and Steve knows you’re already psyching yourself out to believe you wouldn’t deserve it.

“I think you’re more than good enough for it.” His response is quick and firm. He says your name and moves his palms from resting on your chair to holding both knees. “There’s not a single person who would deserve it more than you and I don’t want you telling yourself otherwise,”

You hold his gaze. His dark brown eyes – those puppy dog eyes you always get lost in – stare back at you and you can see nothing but truth and admiration swirling in them.

Just like that, all your doubts disappear. Steve always managed to have that effect on you and you know even if you didn’t get the internship, he’d always make you feel better.

You set over palm over his hand that holds your leg. “Thanks, Steve,”

His thumb brushes over your skin. “Anytime,”

Two weeks later, you had successfully managed to write an essay you were more than proud of. You made Steve and your mom read it six different times just to be sure it was ready to be sent in. They both assured you it was perfect.

The process wouldn’t be fast, you knew that, but you were a ball of nerves every since you and Steve dropped it off at the post office. Ever since then, he’s done everything in his power to keep your mind off it.

You, Steve and Robin all have shared plans today. It’s been 24 days since you sent in the letter – not that you’ve been counting (you definitely have been) – and today’s plans were a day at the lake to help with the killer heat wave that’s hit Hawkins.

It was the most fun you’ve had in a while and for the first time, you hadn’t thought about the letter once.

You and Steve barrel in through your front door, in a fit of laughter over the way he dove with terrible form into the water from the cliff.

“Alright whatever, laugh it up. It’s only because my foot slipped, at least I wasn’t too chicken to dive,” He bites out, clearly aimed at you. There’s no real venom in his voice.

Your laughing halts to a stop. “I wasn’t chicken! I just prefer not to break every bone in my body,”

Steve chuckles. He’s wearing a plain white t shirt, one that’s a little damp from his skin. His hair is still wet at the ends and a little messy from the way he ran the towel over it. His legs on full display under his swim trunks. “It wasn’t that high,”

You glare at him. “It was high enough,”

He continues giggling as you both move further into the house. You can hear your mom humming in the kitchen and the smell of fresh food fills the air. Steve’s feet have him rushing towards the smell almost immediately.

The two of you make it into the kitchen where your mom stands near the island. She smiles at you guys and it widens when she sees Steve. She moves to hug him.

“Hey sweetheart,” She cooes and his cheeks tint with a faint blush.

“Hi Stephanie,” He smiles, reciprocating her hug.

“If I didn’t know any better, I’d think you like him more than me,” You joke and pluck a fresh fry from the counter. Your mom gives you a playful look.

“She does,” Steve answers for her.

She gives him a playful smack to his chest before returning to the plan on the stove. “How was the lake?”

“It was good. Nobody died,” You shrug.

She huffs out a laugh and continues stirring the pot. “Well, that’s definitely considered a great day then,”

You hum in agreement and move to sit next to Steve at the barstools. He’s already picking through the plate of finished food on the island.

“So..” Your mom turns off the stove and moves to face you. “I have something for you,”

You perk up in your seat.

She smiles at your reaction and walks towards the fridge. She grabs an envelope pinned to the surface and moves to stand on the opposite side of the island, right in front of you.

“This came in while you were at the lake.” She begins. “Now I want you to remember no matter what it says, you are so smart and everything happens for a reason, okay?”

Your stomach twists in knots of anxiety and you already know what it is without even reading it. Steve seems to catch on because he stops eating beside you and wrings his fingers through a napkin. He turns in his seat to face you, his own stomach bubbling with anticipation.

She hands you the letter and you have half a mind not to snatch it from her.

On the cover is your full name and address in bold lettering; and the returning address is the same one at the firm downtown. Your hands shake as you hold the letter.

Steve notices and gently places his palm over your thigh. You look over at him and he gives you a warm smile. It’s all the encouragement you need.

Your shaky fingers tear open the envelope and pull the stack of papers inside.

Your name opens the letter.

From Davis & Blu, we are pleased to offer you a position as a marketing intern for a period of twelve months.

You’re jumping in the air before you even read the rest of the letter. “I got it! I got the spot!”

Steve and your mom cheer immediately. Without you even seeing, your mom pulls out a small cake from the fridge that says congratulations, and Steve pulls you in for a tight hug.

Steve’s arms wrap around you tight and it takes every ounce of strength not to focus on the feeling of his biceps.

“Wait wait wait,” You breathe out and reluctantly pull away from his hold. You don’t go far, your shoulder rests against his chest and he has one hand splayed against the small of your back. “I have to read the rest.”

Your eyes skim through the rest of the letter. You’re thanked for your talent and consideration of the company.

Then suddenly, your stomach drops.

Because in the middle of the letter, reads the location.

However, we are sad to inform you there are no positions available at our Hawkins office. If you choose to accept this offer, you will be relocated to Manhattan, New York with complete costs paid for by the company. We will need your answer by 07/31. We look forward to hearing from you.

The air around you stills. The excited sounds of your mom and Steve cease to exist to you and all that’s left it the letter. This letter that has your dream opportunity, now a thousand miles away from your family and you need to make the decision in four days.

They seem to notice the way your face dropped and glance at each other nervously. 

“Honey? What’s wrong?” Your mom asks.

You take a deep breath and look back up at them. Curiosity clouds their eyes. “It’s uh, it’s in New York,”

“New York?” Steve echos and his hand drops from where it rested on your back. You feel cold immediately.

“What – Wait, I thought you applied for the position here in Hawkins,” Your mom asks.

“I did! I did, but they said that office is full and they’ll cover all the costs of me moving there,”

Steve runs his hand through his hair. “Okay,” He says carefully. “How long would it be? I mean, an internship there would be a good start and then you’d come back to work here, right?”

Your throat tightens and he picks up on your hesitation. “It’s – it’s twelve months,”

“A year?” He exasperates and you hate the way his mood has saddened. Steve drops back down in his seat, his palm covering his mouth.

Your moms eyes flicker between you two but she doesn’t say anything.

“When do you have to decide?” She asks.

You place the letter on the counter. “They need an answer in two days and if I accept, I’ll leave on Friday.”

“That’s like three days from now. You’re gonna move a thousand miles away for a year in three days?” Steve asks.

His voice isn’t laced with anger or frustration. It’s just sad. Your eyes soften at him, brows pulling together but you have no idea what to say.

Your mom speaks again. “Honey, it’s your decision. Whatever you do, we’ll support you,”

It was a kind redirection for Steve to keep his own sad thoughts to himself and he takes it.

He inhales softly and nods. His hand comes back up to rest against your back. “Whatever you wanna do.” He echoes the promise but it does little to bring your mood up.

In less than a week, you have to decide between moving away from everyone and everything you know or putting your dream on hold.

You were right before. This sucks.

Later that night, you and Steve lay on top of your pink duvet, shoulder to shoulder on your bed. The room is eerily quiet as you both stare the ceiling. The three of you had dinner together, a tense one, as you all thought about the possible outcomes.

If you take it, you’ll be in an entirely new city with millions of strangers but doing something you love.

If you stay, you’ll be home with everyone you love but who knows where you’ll be at career wise.

Leaving means leaving your family. Your friends. Steve.

Staying means losing your dream.

You wish someone could stand in front of you and tell you the right decision.

“I’m sorry about earlier,” Steve’s voice breaks the silence. You turn to look at him but he keeps his eyes on the ceiling. “I shouldn’t have made you feel like that about it being in a New York. I’m sorry,” He repeats.

You give him a half smile. “It’s okay, I know you didn’t mean it like that.” You turn your eyes back to the ceiling. “I don’t know what to do, Steve,”

Your admission is soft into the air and this time, he looks at you.

Your eyes count the circles your ceiling fan makes. “I never planned for New York. I planned for the job here at Hawkins, I mean this is my home. I don’t know if I want to leave already,”

Steve nods. “It’s only a year, right?”

You shake your head. “For now. But what if I get out there and a year becomes two years? What if it becomes permanent? What if I love it out there?” Your voice falls quieter at the last question and Steve notices.

He shifts so he’s laying on his side and facing you. He gently grabs your hip and pulls you into the same position. Even as you turn, he keeps his large palm over your hip and the warmth of it radiates through your entire body.

“It’s okay if you love it there,” He says gently. “This is everything you’ve worked so far for. You deserve it more than anyone.”

Your eyes sting with tears and your throat threatens to close. “It’s a thousand miles away from you.”

Neither of you miss the way you only mention him and not everyone else. It sits heavy in his chest but he doesn’t say anything.

“New York is only 10 hours away, I could make that drive every Friday night.” He reassures you. The idea of him roadtripping every Friday pulls a watery laugh from you and he smiles back.

“The Beamer wouldn’t be able to handle all those miles,” You tease and he fakes offense.

His eyes narrow and he squeezes your hip playfully. “Hey, she can withstand anything,”

You giggle against his hold and that tight knot loosens in your chest. You both stare at each other for a few moments before he speaks up again.

“Selfishly, I wanna tell you to stay,” He admits, his voice is low and rough. He almost sounds shameful. “I wanna tell you to stay here with me and we can figure it all out together. But I don’t want you to put your dreams on hold – not for me. Go to New York, go to that office and show everyone just how much you deserve to be there. I’ll be here waiting for you. Even if it’s forever.”

By the time he finishes, a stray tear has slid down your cheek and lands on your pillow. His eyes are so intense and so full of love, it overwhelms you. He brings his hand up from your hip to wipe your cheek. The feeling of his thumb against your skin has you leaning into his hold.

You watch the way his eyes flicker from your eyes down to your lips. Instinctively, you do the same. His lips look so soft and inviting and you wonder how they’d feel against your own.

It’s not the first time you thought about him this way. Actually, you’re not sure there’s been a time since you were eight that you didn’t think of him this way.

Subconsciously, your body moves closer to him. He follows your lead and rests his forehead against yours. Your eyes flutter shut and you can feel his breath warm against your mouth.

“Tell me to stay,” You whisper.

Carefully, his lips ghost over yours. Not yet touching and not kissing, but so close that your stomach twists.

He’s so close that you can feel his lips part to either answer or finally kiss you but before he can, there’s a knock at your door.

In an instant, the moment passes.

Steve pulls away from you, putting as much space between you two as he can on the small bed. Your body loses all of its warmth at the loss of him so close to you and you want to scream at your mom as she steps into the room.

She doesn’t comment on the two of you in bed, it’s something you have done since kids.

“Sorry but Steve, Robin is on the phone. She needs you to pick her up from work, something about her mom’s car stalling and she refuses to – and I quote – ‘get mugged on the city bus,’” Your mom informs him.

From beside you, he huffs out a weak laugh but nods and moves to stand up. You suppress all protests to him leaving and ignore the urge to ask to go with him. It doesn’t particularly seem like he wants you to.

You watch him avoid your eyes as he slips his shoes and jacket back on. “I’ll uh, I’ll call you later,” He says. He gently hugs your mom goodbye and then he’s gone.

Your mom lingers even after she hears the front door shut and carefully walks over to where you lay with your hands covering your face. More tears have now fallen freely against your cheeks.

From stress about your decision and from feeling overwhelmed about what to choose, and from the possibility that you just ruined the most important relationship in your life.

Gently, your mom pulls your hands away from your face. “Honey, don’t cry,” She soothes, her thumb repeating the same act Steve did a few minutes ago.

“I don’t – I don’t know what to do, mama,” Your mouth is turned into a deep frown and her eyes soften at the sound of the way you say her name.

She shifts to lay beside you, pulling your body into hers until you’re laying on her chest, both of her arms around you. She rests her cheek on the top of your head.

“I know it all seems really hard right now, and it is a hard decision, but nobody knows what to do better than you do. There’s no right or wrong answer here. All I want for you is for you to choose what you want and to do. Not what you think is expected of you or what you think will make you more successful – do what your heart tells you to do,” She hugs you tighter.

You take in her words. “My heart isn’t being very helpful right now,” You mutter.

She chuckles above you. “I don’t think that’s entirely true.” You move your head to look up at her, and she looks back down at you. “You wanna know what I think?”

You nod without hesitation.

“I think your heart already told you the answer but you’re too scared to accept it.”

“I don’t get it,”

She smiles down at you. “I have watched you and Steve dance around each other for the last fifteen years,”

You groan and bury your face in her shirt. “Mom,”

“Nuh-uh, don’t mom me,” She teases. “I’m serious. That boy would figure out a way to bring you the moon if you asked him to,”

“Don’t be dramatic,” Your muffled voice says.

“What I’m getting at is Steve is a good boy and I know more than anything, even if you don’t want to admit it, you’re worried about what this could mean for you two. But sweetheart, you’re worrying for no reason. He’s not going anywhere,”

You pause for a moment to think on her words. “So you think I should go?”

“I didn’t say that,” She says quickly.

“So you think I should stay.” You land on.

“I didn’t say that either,”

“Mom!” You whine into her. “Can you just tell me what to do?”

She shakes her head. “I told you baby, you already know in your heart what to do. You just have to admit it. I will always support you, no matter what. It’s not about choosing your career over Steve or choosing Steve over your career – it’s about you and what you want. That’s all that matters, my love.”

You huff at her words but you know she’s right because deep in your gut, you know the answer you’ll give them. You’ve always know the answer from the second you opened the letter.

Two days have passed since your almost kiss with Steve and it’s now the night before you’re supposed to leave. Stupidly, Steve has stayed away the past 48 hours and as time nears your departure date, he regrets it.

He made too many stupid decisions in just one night. First, his reaction to your acceptance. Then admitting the fact that he wanted you to stay, as if he didn’t know that couldn’t impacted your decision. And to top it all off, the fact that he almost kissed you.

He’s lived with his secret feelings for you for more than a decade but now that something really good happens for you, he almost let it slip.

He felt ashamed that he almost made such a big accomplishment of yours about himself. The last thing he ever wanted was to ruin your relationship but as the silence continues, he worries he already did.

Suddenly, Robin plops down next to him on the couch in Family Video’s break room. She’s more than just noticed his sour mood over the past two days and it seems like she’s finally had enough. Steve has sunk into the side of the couch, his body still and his eyes stuck on a magazine he hasn’t even read a word of.

“So, are we gonna talk about it or are you gonna keep pouting?” She says.

Steve side eyes her. “I’m not pouting,”

“Are you sure? Because Mrs. Higgins just came in and her toddler had the same look on his face when she told him he couldn’t have candy,”

He turns to glare at her and throws the magazine onto the coffee table in front of him. “You know what Buckley, I’m really not in the mood right now,”

He sounds mad, he knows he does, but she doesn’t even bat an eye.

“Obviously.” She rolls her eyes at his nasty tone. “Does it have anything to do with the looming departure of the future Mrs. Harrington?”

Steve’s irritation is rising and somehow, Robin is always the perfect person to quicken the process. “Jesus Christ, can you not for like five seconds? Seriously,”

Surprisingly, she pauses. She blinks at him and he worries he snapped too hard but then she sighs.

“Why do you have to be such a dingus?” She asks. Steve scrowls at her. “Look, I know it sucks that she’s leaving. I’m gonna miss her too but then again, I’m not in love with her,”

He rolls his eyes this time. “I’m not in love with her, Robin.”

She waves her hand at him. “Oh please, the entire town knows it – including Mrs. Higgins spawn. I’m pretty sure the only ones who don’t are you and her,”

Steve hesitates in his response. Arguing is futile – he is in love with you and he has been since you went on a rant about squirrels at the age of seven.

“My point is, just because she’s leaving doesn’t mean she’s leaving you,” Robin says gently. “New York is nothing in the grand scheme of things and when the year is up, she’ll be back home. Or maybe she won’t and you can move out there. Or maybe she’ll stay there and you’ll stay here and keep visiting. What I’m saying is the possibilities are endless and leaving doesn’t have to mean whatever terrible things your mind is conjuring up.”

Steve is willing himself not to cry in front of Robin.

Her words land exactly where they were supposed to and he feels even more like a jackass than he did before. Robin was right. You leaving didn’t mean the end of you two, it just meant there was more than a five mile distance. And instead of spending as much time as possible with you before you left, he spent it avoiding you.

He glances at the clock and it’s now 8:45PM. He jumps off the couch, hands feeling around his pockets for his keys.

“Can you close by yourself?” He rushes out and Robin has to fight back her smile. She barely says the word yes before he’s bolting out of the store.

He practically sprints to his car and isn’t afraid to admit the fact that he broke four different speeding laws to get to you. He tries his best to rehearse what to say on the drive there.

Something along the lines of I’m sorry, I love you, you should go, I’ll wait for you. Hell, he’d even go with you if you wanted him to.

Steve thanks the universe for the fact that the roads are relatively empty and he hit every green light on the streets. He makes it to your house in record time.

He notices the porch light on but your mom’s car is gone, leaving only yours in the driveway. He cuts the engine and practically launches out of the driver seat. He jogs up to the front door and his hand shakes as he knocks on the wood.

He keeps trying to rack his brain for the perfect words to say but it all disappears when the door opens. You stand opposite of him, half of your body shielded by the door but you open it wider when you realize it’s him.

Your hair is loose around your face and you’re clearly dressed for bed. One of his t-shirts covers your body, the hem ending mid thigh and covering your sleep shorts. Your feet are covered in fuzzy socks. You smile up at him and his stomach swarms with butterflies.

“Steve,” You breathe. “I tried calling y –,”

He cuts you off. “I love you.”

The words tumble out of his mouth before he can even comprehend what he’s saying. But once they’re out, it feels like a thousand pound weight has been lifted off his chest.

He watches the way your lips part and your breathing hitches. He takes a step closer and your neck cranes to look up at him.

“I’ve loved you ever since we were seven years old and you forced me to play in the dirt with you. I’ve loved you ever since you taught yourself how to braid using my hair. I’ve loved you ever since you stuck by my side even when I was an asshole who didn’t deserve you. I have loved you ever since the second I laid eyes on you and that’s the only thing in my entire life that I’ve ever been sure of.”

By the time Steve finishes, his eyes are glassy and his voice breaks every time he says I love you. Your own eyes are wet, a few tears sliding down your skin.

It’s everything he’s kept bottled up these past fifteen years and now that it’s finally out, he feels like he can breathe. He takes another step closer, now toe to toe and gently cups your face in his hands.

“I’m sorry for leaving the other night. I was being stupid and I was scared of what it would mean by you leaving but it doesn’t mean anything. I’ll help you pack and move in out there, and I’ll be out there every weekend just like I said before. I’ll call you every night or wait for you to call me, it doesn’t matter. Either way, Hawkins or New York, I will always love you the same, baby. I promise.”

You let out a choked sound at his confession – something between a sob and a laugh – and he feels his heart constrict in his chest. He leans in, pressing his lips to the tear stained skin of your cheeks and then to your forehead.

“I love you so much.” He whispers into your skin.

Not once has he even thought about the fact that he hasn’t heard you say it back. In the end, it didn’t matter even if you didn’t because he would until the day he died.

“Steve,” You say and carefully pull away from his hold. He lets you and he keeps his eyes stuck on you. “I tried calling you earlier,”

He nods, eyes wide and curious.

“I called the firm a few hours ago,” You pause for a second and stare at his handsome face. He watches the way your eyes flicker across his entire face. “I turned down the position.”

Steve’s lips part and pulls his brows together. “Wha – what, why? No,” He shakes his head and brings his hands from your face to hold your hands. “No, you should go. This is a great opportunity. Why would you turn it down?”

“Because you’re here,” You say the words so softly and he makes sure to engrave that sound into his mind.

He stares down at you, so many different emotions flowing through him. Carefully he whispers your name. “You shouldn’t turn that down for me,”

You smile sadly at him. “Steve, there’s not a world where I’m choosing somewhere a thousand miles away from you. The thought of having to wait five days every week before I can see you again? Or only getting to talk over the phone every night? It’s not worth it,” You say. Steve opens his mouth to argue but you beat him to it. “So, I tracked down one of the other girls who got accepted at the Hawkins office. Turns out she was gunning for New York’s post and when I asked her to switch, she didn’t even hesitate.”

Finally, Steve perks up. His eyes light up in relief and a smile blooms across his pretty mouth.

“You – you got the position here?” He asks.

You nod, smiling. “Looks like I’m smart enough to figure out a way to have both,”

Steve doesn’t even respond before his large palms cover your cheeks again and he surges forward, his mouth pressing against yours.

You hum in contentment at the soft feeling of his lips finally meeting yours. His big arms wrap around your body, anchoring you into him as he pours every ounce of love into this kiss.

It’s achingly tender and devastatingly overdue.

Steve smiles against your mouth as you kiss him back and it’s so contagious, you both stand there with dopey smiles against each other.

He pulls away first and plants messy and wet kisses across your face. He holds you still as you giggle and shake in his arms when his lips travel to the ticklish spot of your neck.

He moves to look back at you and his smile hasn’t faltered once. Neither has yours.

“Oh, by the way?” You murmur. Steve nods for you to continue. “I love you too. So fucking much.”

Steve answers by devouring your face again, kissing every bit of you he can reach. You’re seconds from pulling him inside when you hear something behind him.

You nodded frantically, heart hammering. The team had been dropping hints for weeks, Tony’s smirks, Nat’s knowing eyebrow raises, Sam’s not-so-subtle “get a room… or don’t, we all know you won’t” comments. But Bucky loved the risk. Loved dragging you into elevators between floors, fucking you stupid in supply closets, bending you over in the gym at dawn before anyone woke up. It all made him feral.

His metal fingers flexed on your hip as he freed himself from his sweatpants. God, he was huge, thick, heavy, the flushed head already leaking as it nudged against your soaked folds. Every time he pushed in, it felt like he was splitting you open in the best way.

“Fuck, you’re tight,” he hissed, sinking the first few inches in slow. Your eyes rolled back, a muffled whimper vibrating against his palm. “That’s it… take it. Take every fucking inch like you were made for me.”

You were dripping down your thighs already, legs shaking as he worked deeper. He bottomed out with a grunt, hips flush against your ass, stretching you so full you could barely breathe.

Bucky’s voice dropped even lower, filthy right against your ear. “Gonna fill this pretty pussy up. Breed you right here where anyone could walk in. You want that? Want me to pump you so full it leaks out for days? Want my baby growing in you while you try to act normal around the team?”

You clenched hard around him at his words, nodding desperately. The breeding talk always destroyed you. He knew it. He lived for it.

He started moving, deep punishing thrusts that made your toes curl. The wet slap of skin was obscenely loud in the stairwell, but he didn’t care. One hand stayed over your mouth, the other slid down to press on your lower belly, feeling the bulge of his cock moving inside you.

“Feel that? That’s me, doll. Ruining you for anyone else. Gonna breed you so deep you’ll be swollen with it. Walking around with my cum dripping down your legs while Steve asks you about mission reports.”

A door opened somewhere above you. Footsteps. Voices. Sam and Clint, arguing about pizza toppings. Bucky froze balls-deep, grinding slow and dirty, his hand tightening over your mouth as your eyes widened in panic.

“Shhh,” he breathed, lips brushing your neck. He rolled his hips in tiny circles, pressing right against that spot that made you see stars. “Don’t you dare make a sound while they’re right there.”

The footsteps faded. As soon as the door clicked shut again, Bucky lost it. He fucked you hard, fast, brutal strokes, metal arm wrapped around your waist to hold you up as your knees gave out.

“Such a good little slut for me,” he panted. “Taking my cock while the team’s wandering around. Gonna cum so deep in you. Knock you up right here.”

You came first, biting his palm to stay quiet, pussy fluttering and squeezing around his massive length. Bucky followed with a choked groan, burying himself to the hilt as he spilled. Thick, hot pulses of cum flooded you, rope after rope until you felt impossibly full, some already leaking out around where he stretched you.

He stayed inside you for a long moment, rocking gently, pushing his release deeper.

“Mine,” he whispered, pressing a surprisingly soft kiss to your temple. “All fucking mine.”

You barely had time to catch your breath before he was pulling your leggings back up, smirking at the way you wobbled.

“Better fix your face before we go back out there, doll. Can’t have them knowing I just bred my girl in the stairwell… again.”

As you stepped out onto the floor together, trying to look casual, Tony’s voice drifted from the couch without even looking up.

“Stairwell this time? Bold choice, Barnes. The vents are getting jealous.”

Bucky just grinned, metal hand possessively on your lower back, already thinking about round two in the elevator.

— yours truly, ѕℓυtdιεr.

You roll your eyes but you feel your face turning hot and not at all because of the hot weather.

“Mel, you’re literally holding your baby.”

“So? I have eyes,” Mel asks with a smile, leaning down to kiss a squealing Noah on the cheek. “Speaking of—can you take him for a minute? Need to go and help dad with the salad. He’s having some sort of lettuce crisis.”

“But I—”

You don’t get to finish your sentence, because Noah was suddenly placed into your arms because you could even thinking of doing so.

“Thank you!”

Mel could have not have ran back into the house any quicker, her maxi dress swishing behind her as she did. You would have been annoyed if your nephew wasn’t so damn adorable—all chubby cheeks and toothless smiles.

You look down at your nephew, his big eyes staring up at you quizzically and you can’t help but smile.

“Hey, Noah Bear,” you coo gently, your smile widening when your nephew beams up at you like you had hung the stars.

“You look real good with a baby, sweetheart.”

Heat spreads through your body at your boyfriend’s words. You turn, Noah now squawking in your arms to see Steve standing a few feet away from you, apparently pulled from the conversation with your family at the sight of you with a baby.

Typical.

“Don’t get any ideas,” you tell him with a wry smile as he approaches you and Noah, his hand finding home on your waist and causing a fluttery feeling deep within your gut.

“Oh, honey,” Steve murmurs in a low voice, one that only intensifies the feeling in your gut. “I’m getting so many ideas.”

And just like that, your afternoon was completely derailed but Steve Harrington just smiles at you like nothing was out of the ordinary.

“Oh! Look at you three!”

Your mom’s timing could not have been any worse. Your face felt as though it was burning and Steve was just smiling as though he wasn’t the cause of it.

“I need to take a picture, let me just—”

“—mom!”

But your mom was already grabbing her camera and Steve was already pulling you against him, grinning down at Noah as he did so. Noah—who already seemed to be Steve’s biggest fan—squealed and wriggled about in your arms.

“I got him,” Steve says, taking Noah from your arms and holding him with such a quiet confidence that you feel your heart do something traitorous in your chest. Because Steve Harrington with a baby—

The sound of your mom calling your name pulls you from your thoughts and you have barely a second in which to smile at the camera.

You don’t hear your mom’s compliments, you aren’t able to focus on anything but the way Steve squeezes your waist gently before leaning down to whisper in your ear: “in a few years time, we’ll be at these barbecues with our baby.”

You roll your eyes like he was being ridiculous but deep down? You prayed that he was right.

But if how much your family already liked Steve was any indicator of your relationship? Steve Harrington was probably going to be sticking around for a long, long time.

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You kiss him back, your lips gliding against his wetly in a way that had him moaning into your mouth, had him gripping you by the waist and pulling you closer. You let out a soft sound of surprise against his lips when you feel the undeniable evidence of his arousal pressing against your stomach.

“Buck—” you murmur against his lips before you pull away, eyes flickering over his face that was bathed in warm light from the bedside lamp. “We need to—”

“—please,” Bucky whispers, his breath hot against your skin as he presses his lips to your neck, sending another surge of heat through your body, causing your cunt to pulse with need for the man in front of you. “Please, baby. Need you—need my wife.”

You couldn’t resist because you could never resist your husband, not when his cerulean blue eyes were looking at you like that, not when his cock—thick, heavy and aching for you—was pressed against your body, making your cunt clench around nothing.

And so, your hands reach up to cup either side of Bucky’s face to pull him in for a searing kiss. Bucky wastes no time in kissing you back with a kind of hunger that makes your core ache. His flesh hand squeezes the globe of your ass as the cool metal of his vibranium hand gently tilts your head back in order to deepen the kiss, the wet heat of his tongue licking into your mouth and causing every nerve in your body to come alive.

Even after so long together, even after two years of marriage, you can’t help but melt into him. Your arms wrap around his neck and you press your body flush against his as his flesh hand dances across your skin, goosebumps erupting in its wake before he hooks your thigh over his hip. You whimper against his lips, the feeling of his cock—painfully contained within the confines of his boxers—pressing against your clothed core and sending something that felt almost like electricity shooting through your body.

“Fuck,” Bucky groans against your mouth, pulling away only to take your bottom lip between his teeth and sucking it gently.

All thought about tomorrow, about what could happen almost completely leaves your mind for a moment, as Bucky’s fingers dip beneath your sleep shorts, his lips parting as he thumbs over the damp patch that had collected in your panties.

“You’re drenched, doll,” he murmurs, pressing his fingertips against your clit through your panties and smiling when you moan out loudly, nails biting into the skin of his shoulders. “All from a little kissing? Oh, doll.”

“Buck—” you gasp out, bottom lip pulled between your teeth as his fingers pull your panties to the side to slide the digits between your folds. You let out a noise—somewhere between a moan and a whimper—as your back across off the bed. Bucky groans shamelessly, collecting your slick from between your folds over his fingers before he smears it over your swollen, puffy clit, reveling in the pretty sounds falling from your lips as a result.

Your body jolts, his name falling from your lips in a desperate, wanton moan that your neighbours were surely to complain about in the morning. Not that you cared as your husband was circling your sensitive bud with one deft finger, causing heat to spread from your core to every damn nerve throughout your body.

You mewl, you whine, you were incapable of uttering anything but your husband’s name, especially when you felt the familiar cool metal of the fingers from his other hand prod at your entrance.

“I know, baby—I know,” he hums, pressing soft kisses to your warm cheek as though he wasn’t the one making your body writhe against the sheets. “Just relax f’me, yeah? Let me take care of my wife.”

Those words go straight to your dripping cunt, because despite being married for over two years, hearing Bucky Barnes call you his wife still made you lose your damn mind. 

You hear the sound of Bucky tearing your pyjama shorts off your body, feel him pull your soaked panties hastily down your legs before throwing them unceremoniously to the other side of the room. 

With your bottom half completely bare to Bucky, your body shudders with anticipation, arousal coating your folds that glisten for him in the warm light. Your husband could barely contain himself—both his large hands clasp your knees in order to spread your legs wide open for him.

You don’t notice how his hands shake slightly because his mouth sealing over your wet heat distracts you.

“Buck!” You mewl out, your hands reaching out to grab onto his hair, the longer locks threading through your fingers before you tug at them harshly. Bucky hums against you and the vibration sends shockwaves through your body, right down to your toes. You barely have time to recover however as he swirls the tip of tongue around your swollen clit and suddenly, your mind goes blank.

“Fuck, I love you so much,” Bucky murmurs against you before he starts sucking on your clit with such enthusiasm that your back begins to bow off of the mattress, but your husband’s vibranium hand stops you from doing so. His flesh one was creeping up your thigh, fingertips dancing along the skin and leaving a trail of goosebumps in their wake. “Gonna make you feel s’fucking good. Even if it’s—”

He cuts himself off and you don’t have time to question him, not when Bucky was pressing two of his thick fingers deep inside of you. He wastes no time in curling them, in pressing firmly against that spongey spot inside you, in returning his mouth to your clit and making you see stars.

You couldn’t speak, couldn’t even form a vaguely coherent thought, not when the dual sensation of Bucky’s mouth over your clit and his fingers fucking in and out of you with the most obsence noises was all you could focus on. You barely notice how desperate he seemed, the way he was holding onto you like he was scared you might disappear.

“Bu-Bucky,” you gasp, your hands in his hair tugging in a warning as the feeling in your lower gut builds and builds and builds. The sounds he was making between the thighs—the wet sounds, the low moans of his mouth full of your pussy—were pulling you closer and closer to the edge, the sounds falling from your lips were unabashedly loud but nothing else mattered when Bucky Barnes was between your thighs, worshipping you. 

“Please come,” Bucky groans against you, his voice breaking from arousal? From holding back? You weren’t sure. “Please come baby, I need—”

You cut him off with a loud cry as your orgasm crashes over you. It was so intense—it always was with Bucky—and yet, you had never gotten used to the way your body shakes, the way stars burst behind your eyes. Your pussy gushes around Bucky’s fingers, your walls squeezing the digits as though trying to keep him inside of you. His fingers continue to pump in and out of you, his tongue lapping every last drop of your essence greedily as a mix of his saliva and your slick sticks to his stubble.

You felt pleasure in every nerve, every damn cell in your body and the only damn thing keeping you tethered to the earth was Bucky. His fingers that were still inside of you, his metal hand on your hip, his hair between your fingers, the choked sounds he was making and the—

You blink, your body still coming down from the intense high that Bucky had given you but everything comes back into focus as the sounds Bucky was making finally registers. 

“James,” you gasp softly, your hands gently cupping his face as you pull him up to your level, his fingers withdrawing and leaving you empty. His face was wet, mostly with your slick but also with—his tears. Bucky was crying. “Buck—why—”

“—n-nothing, I just—”

You tap his cheek gently, a soft look in your eyes as you feel a sudden weight in your chest. One that reminded you of the mission he was leaving for in the morning, the one he had told you not to worry about.

“—it’s the mission, isn’t it?” You ask him quietly, your voice barely a whisper as your thumb gently wipes away his tears. “You—you’re scared.”

Bucky doesn’t say anything but the way he looks back at you says it all. Your heart tightens in your chest.

“Buck, it’s going to be fine,” you say, unsure of whether you were trying to convince him or yourself. “You guys—you always find a way to pull through and—”

“—it’s different this time,” Bucky interjects, a look on his face you don’t quite recognise, one that makes your stomach turn, makes you feel a sense of dread that you’re not quite sure what to do with.

“It feels different and I—I just—I keep looking at you and thinking ‘what if this is the last time that I’—fuck—”

He pinches the bridge of his nose, eyes snapping shut as he turns his face away from you, not wanting you to see the tear that slips down his cheek.

Your heart feels as though it shatters into a million tiny pieces at the sight of his tears.

“Hey,” you whisper to him gently, your own throat suddenly feeling too tight as you pull him closer, trying to anchor him with your touch. “Don’t talk like that, Buck. You—you’re going to be fine, okay? You and everyone else are going to be—”

“—but what if we’re not?” Bucky asks you, his eyes shining as he looks back at you with an intensity that feels all consuming. “What if I—what if something happens and I—”

“—don’t say it—”

“—and I don’t come home.”

You swallow, your eyes burn and your throat feels too tight to even speak because the thought of something happening to Bucky—to your husband, to the love of your life—it just was too much to even comprehend.

“You will,” you say finally and with such certainty that Bucky’s eyes can’t help but shift over to meet yours. “You will, okay? You always find a way to come home, Buck.”

For a moment, Bucky looks as though he was going to argue, that he was going to let his fear and anxiety win but your hand acts as anchor, warm palm gently pressing against the hard muscle of his chest. Reminding him of why he did this—of why he fought so hard. To come home—to come home to you.

”You’ll come home,” you repeat quietly, your fingertips grazing against his bare skin, leaving his flesh burning beneath your touch, causing a curl in his gut and making him incredibly aware of the fact you were still bare from the waist down, traces of your arousal still smeared across his face, still lingering in his stubble. “You always come home, Buck.”

A fierce kind of determination burns in Bucky’s eyes, so much love and devotion there that it very nearly takes your breath away. A determination to not only survive but to keep you safe because nothing—absolutely nothing—was more important to Bucky than that. 

His metal hand—the one that had once hesitated before touching you—cups your cheek gently. The combined feeling of the cool metal of his palm and his thumb stroking over your skin makes you shudder but you don’t dare look away.

”Always,” Bucky murmurs quietly before he leans in, his lips just barely grazing yours and yet—the barely there kiss reignites the fire burning in your gut. Your hands dance along Bucky’s bare skin, along the sensitive flesh where his shoulder was fused with vibranium before they find home at the nape on his neck, fingers curling in the hair and making him moan against you.

Bucky’s lips soon press more firmly against yours, making your head spin and your heart race. You return the kiss with equal fever as you feel his cock hardening beneath his boxers once again against your thigh. Another groan is pulled from Bucky’s throat, his hands moving to grip the swell of your hips desperately, dragging you closer as his tongue smooths over yours, licking eagerly into your mouth. You swear that you feel fresh slick already oozing out of you as a result.

You feel Bucky’s hand move from your thigh, his destination the wetness between your legs but you place your hand over his before he could press his fingers inside you yet again.

You shake your head, smiling at him as you move your hand to rest on your husband’s abdomen. You watch the way the muscles there twitch, his body shuddering under your touch.

“Baby, please don’t tease me,” Bucky groans, throwing his head back against the pillow and exposing his neck to you. You can’t help yourself—you lean in, pressing your lips to his skin and fighting back a smile as Bucky makes a small noise beneath you, your fingers gently tickling the dark trail of hair that disappeared beneath his boxers.

“I would never,” you murmur, your hands continuing their journey down his body, palming his now rock hard cock over his boxers. Bucky’s response was instant—his muscles tense, he pulls his bottom lip between his teeth as he tries not to let out any more noise. But one squeeze of his cock through the material has him whining beneath you. Because Bucky Barnes may have been a six foot super soldier, but he was always putty in your hands.

“Sweetheart—”

You silence him by yanking his boxers down. His thick, heavy cock slaps audibly against his stomach and you can’t help but marvel at the beautiful sight—at the ruddy tip that was already leaking precum, at the veins bulging along the length. 

Fuck—there was not a better sight than your husband’s cock.

Your hand wraps around him (as best you could given the sheer size of him) and you give him a slow but firm stroke. 

Bucky lets out a strangled sound, his head tipping back against the soft pillow as you speed up ever so slightly, twisting your hand at the head before gliding back down with the help of his precum. Bucky’s hips jerk upwards and you watch—in awe—as his lips part, as his breathing turns ragged, as his hips cant into every stroke—so fucking desperate for you that you could feel the wetness pooling between your thighs. 

“F-fuck,” Bucky groans, his fingers fisting into the sheets as the obsence sounds you fisting his cock fill the room. The schlick, schlick sounds was lewd but fuck, if it wasn’t turning you on even more. “Feels so fucking good, baby. I fuckin’ love you s’much.”

You can’t help but smile at his words, your heart thumping in your chest as your eyes flicker up to look at his face. You don’t dare slow the rhythm of your hand but you take a moment to just look at him. To look at how truly beautiful he was, how much he trusted you to take control, at how there was once a point in your relationship where you didn’t know if that would ever be possible since someone else in control had once meant pain, meant torture for Bucky but now? Now—Bucky was more than happy to let you take control. 

“I love you too, Buck,” you tell him gently, the sweetness in your voice a direct contrast to the way you were pumping his cock, taunting him by swiping your thumb over the slit, spreading the precum over the velvety skin and making Bucky whimper beneath you.

“Baby, please,” he whines, his hand wrapping around your wrist to slow your movements. “Please. If you keep—if you keep doing that, m’gonna cum and I—I want—I need to cum inside you, sweet girl. I need to fill my wife up, need’t see my cum dripping out of you. Need to—”

You shut him up by pulling him into a searing kiss. One that has him pulling you flush against him, groaning into your mouth as he flips you easily onto your back. You let out a small squeal against his lips, one that turns into a whimper the moment that you feel the fat head of his cock nudging at your entrance. 

“Bucky,” you whine, back bowing off the bed as you try to pull him closer, one leg hooking around his hip to try and press his thick cock even further inside of you. But Bucky seems hellbent on taking his time, holding the base of his cock as he guides it teasingly between your folds, coating it completely in your slick. “Buck, please—”

You’re cut off by your own loud moan as Bucky sinks in home. Your husband was always a stretch but god, you loved how full you felt when he was inside of you. How it very nearly felt as though you were being split in half, how you felt him in every damn every in your body.

“You feel s’good, sweetheart,” Bucky tells you, pressing his lips to your forehead in a sweet kiss as he bottoms out, the tip of his cock kissing your cervix and making your toes curl. “Feel s’good, I wanna marry you again. Once wasn’t enough.”

You let out a loud laugh, one that makes Bucky beam down at you, the corners of his eyes crinkling with because god, he loved you. He loved you so, so much and if anything happened to him—

He couldn’t think about that now. He couldn’t even let the thought in. Because he was going to survive. He was going to keep his promise to you. He was going to come home. Because Bucky was always going to make it home. 

His flesh hand slips into yours, fingers intertwining and resting on the pillow beside your head. You don’t miss the way Bucky’s thumb brushes over your wedding band, the small action making your heart suddenly feel two sizes too big.

“I love you,” he whispers, his vibranium hand cupping your face and holding you like you were something more precious than gold. “I love you so much, baby.”

The corner of your mouth twitches, your hands find the plains of his chest and your nails bite into his skin, your throat feeling momentarily too tight.

“I love you more.”

Bucky smiles down at you, squeezing your hand as he pulls his hips back, leaving just the tip inside of you before pushing back in. Your velvety walls pulse around him, making it difficult for Bucky to even form a coherent thought.

“Not possible,” he manages to grits, slamming back into you and hitting that spot inside of you that knocks the breath right out of you, has you holding onto him even tighter.

Your interlocked hands don’t move from their spot on the pillow, not as Bucky begins to pick up the pace, not as the lewd sounds of his cock slamming into your soaked cunt begin to fill the room, adding to the symphony of your moans and Bucky’s low groans.

The headboard knocks against the wall, your moans only get louder as Bucky’s cock sinks into you over and over and over again. It was so intense, so overwhelming and with the thought of tomorrow lingering over you? The heat that was burning through you was near impossible to hold back.

You mewl out, your hand squeezes his as you feel the coil in your gut tightening, so close to snapping that you felt tears well up in your eyes due to the sheer amount of pleasure you were feeling.

“Oh, are you close, baby?” Bucky asks in a teasing voice, despite the fact you could see the sweat glistening on his forehead, the muscles bulging in his arms from the effort of holding back. “You gonna be a good girl and come f’me?”

You wish that those two little words didn’t have an effect on you, wish that you could have held back for even a few more seconds. But Bucky knew you and knew exactly what you needed to tip you over the edge.

A sound tears from your throat, somewhere between a sob and a moan as your orgasm crashes through your body like a damn tidal wave. You felt it in every nerve, every cell, every bone throughout your body. Your thighs shake, your back arches off the mattress and your velvety walls squeeze around him so tight that Bucky can’t help but follow you right over the edge.

Bucky finishes with a loud, needy groan that was in danger of waking the whole damn building. Not that you cared, not when Bucky’s hips stuttered against yours, slamming into your spent pussy a final time before flooding it with hot spurts of his cum, your name falling from his lips over and over again.

“When I get back,” Bucky murmurs, his lips grazing your shoulder gently before he pulls away to look at you. “We’re going to do that every night, deal?”

You let out a warm laugh, your body shuddering slightly as Bucky pulls out of you. You feel his cum oozing out of you due to the sheer amount he had produced, could feel it dripping down your thighs and onto the freshly washed sheets. But that didn’t matter when Bucky’s thumb once again was rubbing over your wedding band, not when he was looking down at you with such reverence in his eyes.

“Deal,” you say with a small smile. “Now, should we go to sleep or—”

You were cut off by your own small shriek as Bucky grabs your waist and rolls over, leaving you sat on top of him, straddling his waist and feeling his thick cock hardening beneath you once again.

“—not yet,” Bucky murmurs, his eyes shifting down to his cum still leaking out of you. “Gonna make sure it sticks, baby.”

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you were supposed to be staying overtime with keys to help him with a glitch in the game, but somehow you ended up in his lap, on his chair, grinding against his clothed shaft. the usual bright fluorescent lighting in the office is now dimmed with the soft glow of unoccupied computer monitors on empty desks, and faint noises of a vacuum being run by the janitor from outside the cubicle. his hands are everywhere, first groping your tits through your blouse, now kneading the globes of your ass beneath your skirt helping you rock against him.

your lips move together messily, tongues gliding against each other. keys cant help the groans that fall from his mouth, youre such a good kisser, it makes his head spin. the condensation from the heat and intensity from your kiss had caused a light fog to build up in his glasses, which slowly cleared up as you pulled away from his lips. you move to unstraddle yourself off of his lap.

“heyhey,” his hands grip your hips, the wheels of his chair gliding against the floor as he rolls closer to you. “where’re you going?”

“take off your pants.”

key scoffs, slightly caught off guard. he could feel his pants tighten, you werent asking him, you were telling him.

“here?” he asks, his voice higher than usual.

“yes, here,” you roll your eyes playfully.

he fiddles with the end of your skirt.

“keys, no ones here.”

“i know, its just,” his gaze drifts to the office doors, the muffled sound of the vacuum audible out in the hall. “what if we get caught?”

“we wont,” you shake your head, “they only vacuum the office mondays and wednesdays.” you trace your finger along his jawline, “do you know what day it is today?”

keys looks up at you with glossy eyes, his lips slightly parted. “uh-huh,” he nods, already unbuckling his belt and unfastening the zipper of his pants to free himself. “tuesday.”

“thats right,” you smile. “but since youre so worried about getting caught, i guess ill have to shut you up.”

you hook your fingers underneath the hem of your panties and allow them to pool around your ankles.

“im not! its just—” his eyes widen as you stuff your panties in his mouth, abruptly cutting him off.

you giggle at the surprised sound he had made. you straddle his lap again, his desk chair creaks with both of your weight on it. you waste no time stroking him slowly, hes hot and heavy in your hand. you hoist your hips up, gliding the tip of him up and down your core. a muffled groan falls from keys, just feeling how wet you are makes more precum ooze out of his tip. you both moan the moment you sink down on his cock and fully bottom out.

one loud and audible, one quiet and muffled.

you take a deep breath, letting your body accommodate to the size of him. its something you could never get used to, the stretch of him burned so good. his hands grip your waist, his big hazel eyes boring into your own through his glasses. you feel his thumbs affectionately rub either side of your hips, as if its his own way of saying take your time, i got you. you bite back a whimper and slowly start rocking yourself up and down his length.

“fuck, keys.”

you wrap your arms around him and bury your face in the crook of his neck, moaning softly into the skin. keys tenderly rubs one of his hands up and down your back, while the other remains on your hips for leverage as he makes an effort to thrust up into you. he times his movements perfectly with each lazy bounce you give him. you can feel every vein of his length, while he can feel every crevice of your velvety walls, and it both sends you reeling.

you lick a stripe up his neck, working towards his earlobe, and nibble on the flesh gently. you feel him twitch inside you and he whimpers at the action. you slowly loosen your arms from around his neck, and brace your arms against his chest for better stability. you ride him with more enthusiasm now, moaning and gasping his name. like earlier, his hands fly to your ass, squeezing the flesh to move you against his cock more efficiently. the desk chair is squeaking rhythmically at every movement.

“mhm?” you whine, “that feel good?”

he hums eagerly against your panties.

“what about this?”

you intentionally lower yourself as deep as you can and swivel your hips against his cock.

keys stomach flips, his back arches ever so slightly off of the chair and his eyes roll back.

you tut, “asked you a question.”

keys nods eagerly at you, desperately moaning, although his sounds were dulled by the fabric. he started drawing quick, uneven breaths through his nose that made his chest rise and fall rapidly.

grasping the hair at the nape of his neck, you tug back gently to get a better glimpse at him. keys eyes are glossy as they meet yours, his glasses skewed. you can tell that your panties are now soaked with a mixture of your arousal from earlier and his saliva. you move one of your hands to take out your bunched panties from his mouth.

“still scared about getting caught?” you grin

“fuck no,” he shakes his head, scoffing. “just keep riding me like that. shit– im so close.”

never shifting the position, he sits up just a little bit more on his chair so youre properly chest to chest. he tugs your hair back to give himself better access to your neck, kissing and biting at the sensitive skin.

“fuck, fuck, fuck,” a needy whine falls from him while hes desperately bucking his hips against yours.

“keys–” you gasp, “im gonna cum.”

“do it,” a cocky smirk plastered on his face, “cum for me.”

this time, he wasnt asking you, he was telling you.

your body stutters as your walls clamp down and flutter against keys length euphoria rushes through your veins and thats all he need to feel to trigger his own orgasm. suddenly, keys arms wrap around your waist as he thrusts up into you one last time, it isnt long before you feel his load fill you up. he lazily grinds up into you, riding out both of your orgasms. you hum contently as the post orgasm haze starts to hit you. keys showered soft kisses on your collarbone as you both catch your breath, the soft hum of the vacuum still moving up and down the hallway just right outside the office.