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so the casual by chappell roan based steve x reader fic i'm working on is actually taking so long but i wanted to give a sneak peek to anyone who wants to read so here u go enjoy:
[smut - MDNI!!]
The room glows a dim golden with the fleeting sunset. His hair catches in the light, and you notice the different shades of brown. The muscles of his toned abdomen flex as he moves above you, slowly and gently, making sure he savors how you feel, wet and stretched around him. He lets out a silent moan in the form of a loud breath at the sight of you. You quietly whisper a moan of his name to the rhythm of his thrusts, as if itâs a prayer. He starts to move faster, a tuft of his hair falling onto his forehead, sticking with the sweat.
You savor the sight of him. You swear he looks like a piece of artwork created by the gods. The soft red color that creeps across his cheeks. The beads of sweat shining on his brow. The way the soft dimming golden light from the sunset paints the contours of his body beautifully. His pink, soft lips hang open as he breathes out, trying to stifle his moans. His pupils blown out as they rake over your body. His upper body crumples to lean over you again, his lips hanging above yours. You use one hand to grip the back of his neck and pull him down to meet your lips. Your bodies move together silently, as to not alert anyone else in the house of what is happening in his room.
One of your hands rakes down the skin of his back, pleasure overcoming you. Steve quietly moans at the action and moves his hand from where it is no doubt leaving finger-shaped bruises on your hips to your hand that grips the sheet under you. To your surprise, he wriggles his fingers in between yours, moving your hand up close to your head. Your fingers intertwine, gripping each other like youâre each otherâs lifeline. He gasps as he moves rougher, harder, more desperately. His free hand trails down between your bodies, rubbing at the nub of arousal that sits down at your core. He drops his head down to your shoulder right as you throw your head back into the pillow. He keeps slamming his hips into yours, the wetness of your arousal starting to make a mess between both your thighs. He whimpers into you, teeth nipping at the delicate skin where your shoulder meets your neck.
âYouâre everything,â he moans into your shoulder, louder than you think he should be.
If this is what it took to have Steve Harrington look at you the way you'd wanted him to look at you the past ten years of your friendship, you would do it again. Even if it meant putting yourself through hell.
first time writing smut plz be gentle đ¤˛đť this fic should be out v v v v soon
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Hello!! I looooved your fic somebody told me fic so much!! Would you be interested in making it a multiple chapters story?
omg hi thank you !!! i was so nervous to post my writing and the fact that so many people like it makes me so happy < 3
i definitely would love write a chapter two... i just don't know where to take the plot without making it boring or maybe this is me just being paranoid about my writing l o l
i'm very much open to the idea tho but i need some suggestions if anyone has any ideas let a girl know & i will also see what my brain can come up with !!
my first fic almost has 100 notes omg đđ thank u guys SO MUCH
if ur here from my most recent fic, i am currently writing another steve x reader based on the song casual by chappell roan! however in the mean time ,,,, PLEEEASE request things :pppppp i have such an excitement about writing for stranger things rn and wanna keep up the momentum <3 i write for steve, robin, nancy, billy, and tentatively am wanting to challenge myself and start writing for eddie & jonathan as well !!
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ââ ââ.ŕłŕż somebody told me | steve harrington x fem!reader
â§ summary: [based on the song somebody told me by the killers] after breaking up with steve because of impending freshman year of college, both you and steve are haunted by what could have been. in an attempt to cope with the swirling emotions, you pursue a sexual relationship with eddie munson. halloween rolls around, and eddie invites you to a party. your blood runs cold in the midst of sweaty bodies when none other than steve harrington finds you in the crowd.
pre & post s3 steve harrington x fem!reader x slight fwb!eddie munson | angst, very slight smut vibes if you squint | no use of y/n
â§ word count: 4.8k
â§ warnings: MDNI! no full smut but talks of sex and sexual touching/dancing, use of marijuana, cigarettes, and alcohol, steve is an asshole, college struggles | if there is anything that i missed that should be listed, please let me know
â§ a note from s: hi everyone !! i listened to this song for the first time in a while the other day and immediately pictured this storyline and had to write it. this is my first ever fic on this account / first time writing for steve so please be gentle. i also want to put a disclaimer out there that don't write for eddie normally, but i did enjoy writing him in this fic so if everyone enjoys my eddie writing too i might add him to my list of those i write for. sidenote: as i was writing the party scene i couldn't get the image of steve harrington as jacob elordi in the club scene of saltburn out of my brain so enjoy that mental image xoxoxoxox
i'm so nervous to post this so plz lmk your thoughts & plz reblog/like/share to support my writing! enjoy <3
You gently pick at a loose thread on the quilt draped over Steveâs bed. You feel his eyes boring into your head, but you canât bring yourself to look up at him and meet his eyes. You know theyâre sad. Pleading. You canât bring yourself to face it.
âIâm sorry, Steve. I really am⌠I just-â you donât know how to finish the sentence. You just what? You want to go into college single, why was that so hard to get out? Itâs not like you and Steve had dated for years. Youâd been casually together, only sporting the girlfriend label for the past 4 months. So why was this so hard? Had you known Steve wasnât going to be able to get into the college you were going to, or most colleges for that matter, you wouldnât have gotten as involved with him as you did. You never wanted to hurt him.
âYou just what?â Steve prodded, not moving from where he sat, across from you on his bed.
âI donât know Steve,â you struggle to get out, words failing you severely.
âI think you do. Just say it. At least give me the decency of a reason why youâre⌠dumping me.â
âI just think⌠when I leave in the fall,â you swallow, your voice pathetically getting smaller. âI should be single.â
He is silent for a moment.
âIf this is a distance thing, we can just do long distance. We can make it work. I know plenty of people who were able to do that. Iâm sure my manager at Scoops and I can work out a work schedule that leaves my weekends open. And we can alternate weekends to visit, or⌠or something,â he rambles on, shaking his head as if the idea of breaking up was not acceptable in his mind.
Maybe because, to him, it wasnât acceptable. You were his dream girl. Even after a few months, you had him wrapped around your finger. He would walk through a wall of fire if you were on the other side. He hadnât felt anything close to this since Nancy Wheeler. And you were nothing like Nancy Wheeler. And thatâs one of his favorite things about you. But you hadnât realized how deep his feelings for you ran, and you didnât realize how deep leaving him would cut. It wasnât easy for you either, sure, but at least you had a freshman year to look forward too. What did Steve have? Slinging ice cream? That insecurity of not being able to experience college at all was gnawing at him more than heâd let on to you.
âI just think this will be easiest for both of us in the long run⌠and who knows, maybe Iâll end up back in Hawkins after I graduate, or maybe in a few years youâll be able to make it to college,â You offer, trying to be as gentle as possible. You stand up, walking to his desk to pick up your backpack.
Once you slip it on, you turn and finally make eye contact for just a moment, before he makes a noise between a scoff and a sniffle and breaks the eye contact, looking out his window. The vein in his neck twitches. You can tell something you said just set him off.
âYou mean it will be easier for you.â
You furrow your brow. âWhat?â
He shakes his head and lets out a sigh, exasperated. He swings his legs over the side of the bed and slaps his palms on his knees.
âYou know what⌠go and have fun at college. Go have fun and be single, while I stay here and make ice cream sundaes. Thatâs all Iâm good for, right?â he sneers bitterly, his tone shifting from the soft pleading he just tried to offer moments ago.
Youâre stunned and frozen to your spot next to his desk, hands gripping the straps of your backpack. âExcuse me?â
âI just donât understand how you donât want to even try to make this work. And I can only think of one reason you are refusing to try.â
You ignore the last bit, not even wanting to go there. âSteve, I just donât think I have the mental capacity to maintain something between us. I worry Iâd end up neglecting this relationship,â You really are trying to be a peacemaker here, but you feel Steve heating up, frustrated that his attempts to rectify this relationship were futile. Truth is, you donât want to be single to date around. College was daunting as it is, and you wanted your time to be free to dive into your studies and figure out your place in this world. That, along with keeping up somewhat of a social life in a new big city far from the one boy youâve ever actually liked would be hard enough.
âNo,â He starts, shaking his head. âI think you want to be able to go out to parties and bars and flirt with and date whomever youâd like, right?â He spits, standing from his bed and folding his arms across his chest.
âWowâŚâ you slowly nod. You know heâs projecting, but damn if it didnât hurt to hear your boyfriend youâd really started to fall in love with say. âIf⌠if thatâs what you think of me, Iâm just glad I did this now.â You turn to leave before either of you say things you donât mean, but Steve beats you to the punch.
âIf thatâs not the truth, why wouldnât you at least give it a chance? Youâre leaving me no choice but to believe that itâs the truth,â He saunters close to you. Angry Steve is not someone you are fond of. Sure, you had a huge crush on Steve junior year when he donned his iconic, yet asshole-ish King Steve persona. But you hated being in King Steveâs line of fire, just like you were right now. Heâd grown and changed from those days, but if you got him upset enough, he would rear his ugly head. He stopped right in front of you, reaching around you to the door to exit his room. He gave you a look up and down you can only describe as pure disgust and muttered close to your face, âhave fun with those college boys.â
You let out an airy laugh, his condescending words and tone sending you over the edge. You turn and fiercely walk to the staircase and stop at the edge. You know itâs a low blow. You know itâs hitting him where it hurts. But youâre so mad, you donât recognize the man youâd gotten to know for the past few months. You spit out the sentence without thinking twice.
âI know you couldnât possibly understand what Iâm feeling because you couldnât get into any colleges, but itâs not my fault you slacked off and didnât get the grades. Donât be bitter at me because Iâm leaving in the fall and youâre not.â
You donât have time to see his hurt reaction before you turn on your heel and race down the stairs and out the front door. As soon as the words left your lips you felt guilty. Heâd been so insecure with his college application troubles and you used it against him. But it was over. You slide into your car and quickly speed down the road. You take a shaky breath in and out as you drive, trying to put Steve in the back of your mind and bring college preparation thoughts to the forefront of your focus.
â§
You push through the front door of your dorm building, heaving your heavy backpack through the long hall. Your eyes ached from reading your textbook for hours to cram in a last-minute study session for your exam tomorrow. You were teetering on a failing grade; you just knew it. This class in particular, but all your classes your first semester, were kicking your ass. You couldnât afford to pay to retake classes. The stress of juggling all these hard classes was bogging you down, and you still didnât know what you even wanted to major in. Itâs not an exaggeration for you to say college was definitely not the exciting, thrilling fun you thought it would be.
When you push your room door open, youâre greeted with the smell of liquor and cheap cigarettes. Neither of these things you were above, by any means, but not on a Tuesday night when you have an exam in the morning. On top of your grades being atrocious, your roommate was downright terrible. Throwing dorm room parties constantly, always up at the worst hours, and messy. So incredibly messy. And the worst part is, she doesnât even like you. She acted as if you were the one intruding on her.
You push through the group of girls in your way, ignoring the snide remarks, throwing your backpack onto your bed, fishing out your wallet, and immediately removing yourself from the room. You trudge over to the vending machine, hoping for some kind of food before you force yourself to sleep through the inevitably restless night. You grab some candy and turn, nearly bumping into another person. You mutter an apology and step to the side, engrossed in opening the packet of M&Mâs.
âHey youâre one of the girls in room 13 right?â The voice from behind you asks. You turn and see a vaguely familiar girl.
âYeah,â you respond.
âYou got a call at the payphone earlier,â she steps up to the vending machine. âSome guy named Eddie.â
Eddie.
Throughout the awful college experience youâd been enduring, your one saving grace had been Eddie Munson. You thank the girl and nearly race up to the one of the phones down the hall. You shove in some quarters quickly and punch in the all-too-familiar number. He picks up on the second ring.
âHello?â you hear his voice answer, and heat flushes over you. But not the giddy, lovey-dovey heat youâd had when you and Steve would have your routine nightly chats, back when you were still with him. This was a different heat. Darker, more lustful.
The summer after youâd broken things off with Steve, you found yourself having a harder time moving on than you thought you would. The things youâd said to Steve you knew you didnât mean. His hurt face swam into view every time you thought about it. It was haunting you, and youâd do anything to forget about it. One of your friends had suggested Eddie, being a drug dealer and all. You couldnât recall who Eddie was exactly, but you knew he sold things that could take your mind off real life, so you were set. Soon, you found yourself not just picking up weed from him. It became smoking with each other and ordering a pizza, getting to know each other at a surface level, watching stupid movies and laughing at stupid things. You didnât like him, definitely not in the way you liked Steve. However, you were very attracted to him. So, when he made advances one night you two smoked in his van out at Loverâs Lake, you most definitely werenât going to stop him. It was just a one-time thing, youâd both agreed. Until he called you a week later. Then it started to happen more often. When you left for college, you both expected things would fizzle out. Oh well, youâd had your fun rebound.
Though, on a particular Friday you were getting weighed down by the toll college was taking on you, you found yourself calling him from your dorm, asking if he was free that night. Phone calls between you and Eddie started to become more frequent. Usually it was, âwhat are you up to this weekend?â, followed by him saying something along the lines of, âyou should come visit. I got a new batch from Rick, and we should smoke it and see how long we can go without touching each otherâ. Because of this, you started to make occasional trips to Hawkins to smoke weed and hook up to cope and escape your personal hell that was freshman year.
âHey, youâ You smiled into the phone.
âI was starting to wonder if you were ever gonna call me back,â you could hear him smiling on the other end of the phone too, a lusty drawl to his voice you detected immediately. âYou werenât cheating on me by being smoked out by some other college stoner, right?â he teased. The thing you liked the most about you and Eddieâs agreement was that you both knew where you stood. There were no complicated feelings involved.
âYou know I would never,â you fake-gasp.
âSo, listen,â you hear him shift on the other side of the phone. âThereâs this huge Halloween costume party this weekend here in Hawkins. Iâm not one for Hawkins parties⌠but this one actually sounds like it might be fun. Wanna come?â
âMost definitely,â you nod. âAre we coordinating costumes?â you tease, fiddling with the phone cord.
âWell, I actually have an idea, but itâs kind of...â
âI expect nothing less from you,â you cut him off. He begins to ramble about some Motley CrĂźe music video that he loves and how you could dress as one of the âhot chicksâ and he could dress as one of the band members and it would be âtotally awesomeâ. He explains the costume details to you in the best way a male brain can, and you make a mental note to stop by a video rental store tomorrow to rent the music video and see what youâre working with here.
âIâll be there Friday night, costumed up.â
âOh, I do like the sound of that,â he breathed out. âIâll be looking forward to it.â
â§
As you pull up to the party, Eddie makes a point to trot over to your van door and pull it open for you. Ever the gentleman, dressed head to toe in an undeniably incredible Tommy Lee costume.
âWhy thank you,â you smile, taking his hand as you step out of the van. You could hear the bumping bass from the party all the way from where Eddie parked down the street.
âI meant what I said earlier,â Eddie started, giddily walking, already producing a joint and sparking up. âYour costume looks insane. I donât know how you managed to do that within a few days,â he lets out a puff of smoke and hands you the joint.
You give a twirl and slip the joint past your lips. âItâs pretty easy to be out shopping for things when you wanna spend as least time in your dorm room as possible.â It was true. After your big exam, the rest of the week had gone by smoothly with you busying yourself by either being at the library or out shopping and crafting your costume.
You both pass the joint to each other a few times and before you know it, youâre both making your way through the people crowding the lawn. Just before you make your way into the house, Eddie stops to chat with some of his D&D buddies. You decide to leave him to his friends, itâs not like heâs your boyfriend or anything.
You already feel a bit tipsy, mentally thanking Eddie for roping you into taking a few tequila shots before leaving for the party. The inside of the house is dark and smoky, save for some flashing colorful lights illuminating the crowd of closely knit dancing bodies. You spot an opened, nearly full bottle of⌠Merlot? Was it merlot? You soon realized you didnât care. Your fingers tighten around the sticky bottle, and you heartily swig it, the liquid grossly warm. Your feet take you to the edge of the crowd, immediately getting engulfed in the group of people, dancing to the music, happy and carefree to be anywhere but your dorm room.
You lose track of time. After a while of dancing on your own and progressively letting the wine, tequila, and weed all take their effect, in the haze of the dark, smoky crowd, you hear a wolf whistle over the music in your direction. You took a spin, expecting to meet eyes with Eddie.
Your blood ran cold, and you choked the swig of wine youâd just taken. Steveâs beautiful face was illuminated by only the occasional flashes of light in the large room, a lopsided, drunk smile on his face. He stood closely in front of you, slightly swaying to the music. You quickly take in his Scarface costume, a small voice in the back of your mind immediately assuming that a beautiful, blonde Elvira is close by.
You both stare at each other for a minute, you stand still amid drunk dancing teens. You quickly realize you are obscured from wherever Eddieâs view happened to be by the large crowd around you, but why was that your first thought? You try to glance around to see if Eddie had decided to come inside, or if he was anywhere in eyeshot so he could rescue you. But youâre feeling Steveâs eyes raking over your body. Heat flushes over you, and you clamp your thighs together, stifling the thoughts and feelings washing over you prompted by his seductive gaze.
âWhat do you wantâ, you ask, it coming out snarkier than youâd meant for it to. Youâre just⌠uncomfortable under his heavy gaze. But not uncomfortable, like you didnât want him near you. No, no. Moreso⌠uncomfortable because when you saw him looking at you the way he did, a heat ignited somewhere in you. It had been so long since youâd seen his face, nevertheless seen him look at you with such⌠lust? Could you even call it that? Â
âIâd been trying to get over to you for the past 17 songs,â he retorted over the music, just loud enough for you to hear. âYou are hard to track down, you know that?â More teens were dancing into you, of course pushing you and Steve closer. Too close. So close that you could smell that he had been drinking whiskey and smoking cigarettes. And his cologne. The cologne youâd complimented one of the first times youâd hung out. The cologne that reminded you of being close to him. Smelling it on his neck when you had been kissing his collarboneâŚ. Heat flushed over your cheeks, and youâd hope he didnât see it in the rhythmic flashing of lights. A particularly hard jab from a girl dressed as Madonna hit your arm, causing your bra strap to fall to your arm.
âI didnât know youâd be here,â you choked out, frantically adjusting the strap of your top back to your shoulder, finally finding your voice again. You were suddenly feeling very self-conscious. Your hands grow sweaty as the wine bottle slips through your fingers. You take a swig, desperate to break the charged eye contact he was making with you.
âDid you happen to forget I still live here?â He snarked back, a goofy Steve Harrington smile on his lips.
âAnd so what if I did?â You respond, looking to try and brush past him. You need to find Eddie. Heâs your crutch here. You need to remove yourself from the situation, because you know youâll get in far too deep if he keeps looking at you this way. But his large frame steps in front of you, blocking you in between him and the group of girls behind you.
âYou leave town onto bigger and better things and end up rightback next to me, huh?â He gives a cocky smirk and takes a sip from his cup, not breaking eye contact. âFunny how that works.â
âIâm just here visiting a friend,â You retort.
âYeah, you know, I did hear about thatâŚâ He started, a hint of a scoff bubbling out through his lips. He leans close to your ear, one hand grazing the fabric on your forearm, dangerously close to the swell of your hip, the other hand clutched around his red solo cup. Beads of sweat form on your forehead, but not from the heat.
âSomebody told me youâre actually here with Eddie Munson,â he chuckled a bit, as if it was unbelievable. You pulled away and scanned his darkened and unreadable eyes, trying to get what heâs playing at. You notice the King Steve persona again, like you did the day you dumped him. You donât know it, but something inside him flipped when he saw you dancing on the dancefloor, skirt riding up your thigh, bra strap slipping down your arm.
âWhy do you care? Iâm sure thereâs some girl around here you brought,â you play it off like it doesnât sting your tongue to say. You wanted to know so badly why he was asking. Did he care? Was he going to make fun of you? Was he hurt? Jealous?
âI just didnât think he was your type, you knowâŚâ He persisted, raising his cup to his face, a dark smile starting to form as he speaks. âI mean⌠now that I think about it, something about him reminds me of Nancy. I think itâs the curly hairâŚâ He said with a wink and a swig of his drink. You roll your eyes and cross your arms over your chest. You immediately knew what he was getting at. Youâd been so insecure in your entire relationship with him that you were just his Nancy rebound. Idiotic Tommy and Carol would never let you hear the end of it with how different you were from Nancy, and it ate away at you and made you so insecure. Because you werenât like Nancy Wheeler, like, at all. And with this comment he was not only insulting you, but your choice in having Eddie Munson as your date to this party. This was his response to the low blow you had made before leaving his house the day you broke up with him. You take a deep breath in, releasing your arms and shoving his chest with the top of the wine bottle.
âWas that the best insult you could come up with, Stevie? Is Eddie Munson making King Steve that insecure?â you mock him, the alcohol finally giving you your fiery attitude. âYou know what, he may not be as manly as you think you are but trust meâŚâ you drunkenly grab a fistful of his shirt and bring him close to lean towards his ear, âheâs more of a man than you ever were. Especially in bed,â you purr. You release his shirt and shove him away.
Youâre expecting him to be stunned, to be speechless. King Steve, dethroned. But to your horror, he gives a dark, dry laugh.
The opening riff to a new song starts playing, and the crowd cheers, causing Madonna to bump into you so harshly that youâre thrown into a compromising position. Steve places his hands on your arms, steadying the both of you, so your back close to him, and he starts moving with the music.
âOh, Iâm not worried about him competing with the way I made you feel,â he leans in, millimeters away from your ear, hands sliding dangerously close to your hips. âIâm sure Eddie Munson doesnât know you well enough to know the right ways to pleasure you like I did. Tell me,â he breathes, hot and close to your ear. Shivers run down your arms. âDo you let him use those pink handcuffs on you? You know⌠the ones I bought for you?â
Your mouth goes dry, numbly moving as his hands guide your body to the music with his. A gasp hitches in your throat as you feel him closer behind you.
âJust give me tonight⌠for old timeâs sake. I think I need to remind you just how good I made you feel.â A shiver runs up your arm as his hand runs down your arm, gripping the wine bottle with his hand over the top of yours. He brings it up to his lips, your hand trapped under his. Once he swigs a few gulps, he slides the bottle down the front of your body, letting go of the bottle, but his touch lingering on your collarbone.
Maybe itâs the weed, maybe itâs the alcohol, maybe itâs the fact that the song that just started playing is one of your favorites and Steve knows it. But something in you chases the high that his touch is giving you. So, what the hell. You give in. You know itâs what you want, deep down, even if you were stone cold sober. You couldnât deny that nights spent at Eddieâs trailer, long after Eddie had fallen asleep, memories of Steve haunted your memories. You couldnât deny it, even though you wanted to pretend it didnât keep you up some nights.
You begin to sway to the music, Steveâs strong body behind you guiding you to the rhythm. His touch never leaving you. It felt so right, like returning to a proper stasis after chaos for so long. It felt right and comfortable and normal. His hands wander your curves, and you throw your head back. Steve knew your body in a way Eddie never had. Intimacy with Steve wasnât just about immediate sexual satisfaction. It was about intimacy. Steve had cared about you, actually cared. He wanted to make you feel good. You knew the persona he was playing up tonight was a front to hide how he really felt. He yearned for you, especially yearned to make you feel good. Youâd refused to admit it since you started hooking up with Eddie, but Steve had made you feel good in a far different way. And the fact that he knew it simultaneously pissed you off and turned you on.
You feel Steveâs hand ghost up your arm and to your shoulder, and almost instinctively, as if you were back to your old ways, you let your head lull to the side. Steveâs lips immediately attach to the spot on your neck that he knows you love. You let out a moan, inaudible under the music. Your fingers tangle into his thick hair, willing him to keep going. His hands lightly trail up the front of your thin shirt, and you can feel his fingers brush against your nipple. And suddenly, he detaches his lips from you, much to your dismay.
You turn your head, sighing in protest, and turn to him, inches away from your face. His drunken breath fans across your face, intoxicating you more than any weed you smoked or wine you swigged tonight. The lights flash from behind his head, lighting up his beautiful features. His eyes fall to your lips, and his large hand moves from your chest to cup your cheek, and he pulls your face forcefully to meet your lips to his. He wastes no time making the kiss as sloppy as the environment youâre in calls for, his hands running wild. To your surprise, you feel your hand gripping his shirt, your body aching to get him even closer. You give into the sensation and let your hands tentatively rake down the front of his shirt. You waste no time slipping under his shirt, hands dancing up his torso, Eddie a long, distant memory. But your lips grow cold as he pulls away. He sloppily smirks at you, knowing he has you in the palm of his hand. You hate him for it.
âDitch Munson and come home with me,â he says, still close to you. Under the smug façade he puts on, you can see that his eyes are almost desperate. Your brain tries to formulate a sentence to decline, but you look at his face and see Steveâs real self through the mask. Not King Steve, but the real, genuine Steve. The one you love. Lips puffy from crashing into yours, cheeks flushed, hair tussled from where your fingers had raked through it. The smell on his breath intoxicates you. He feels safe. Familiar. Something about him you canât resist. You never could resist.
âSteve, I donât want to get you tangled up in something complicated,â you find the words tumbling out of your mouth, suddenly feeling guilty for dumping him only to end up getting involved with another Hawkins boy. What a slap in the face that must have been. But he leans in and kisses you deeply, stopping your train of thought. When he pulls away, he keeps his face close to yours.
âLetâs worry about this in the morning, yeah?â He nods, encouraging you. You know you want to too; you just worry youâre going to hurt him in the process. His hand finds its way to your cheek again, his thumb brushing against your chin. âLet tonight just be⌠tonight, okay?â
You gaze up at him, brain racing through a million answers to give him in the span of a millisecond. But you respond with the answer you know deep down that you really want to say.
âLetâs get out of here,â You slide your arm around his and start to push through the crowd.
please do not repost anywhere. please do not plagiarize my work as your own. please do not use my writing for any AI purposes.
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