Me After Reading This:

At six o'clock Steve stares at you from the misted window as you untie the ribbon on your apron, take it off and disappear into the back of the shop. He knows you're tired and you just want to go home. He knows it, because it's the first thing you always said to him after the shift, in another life: before Vecna, before the war, before you forgot about him forever. 

I didn't expect it. Omg. You shattered my heart from this paragraph onwards. 😭😭

And the ending 😭🤌

Remember Me- Steve Harrington

Summary: Every morning Steve shows up at the coffee shop you work in and every morning you hope is the one where the cute stranger will finally talk to you. But it never happens and maybe you don't really need it. Yet, while you wait at the tables with a smile, you can't help but wonder why you feel like you've known him all your life.

Words count: 3.8k

Tags: Fluff and Angst. Post-season4 Steve Harrington / Post War/ Mentions of major character death.

Y/n smells like coffee and lemons. A strange mix that Steve still doesn't know whether its good or not. You move around the shop with a circumstantial smile on your face, a tray in your hands and a green apron used as an impassable wall against the rest of the world, your armor.

Yet you can't take your eyes off that customer, who oders American coffee every morning and sit at the table furthest from people. Sometimes he brings a curly-haired boy with him, other times there's a beautiful girl with big blue eyes - perhaps his girlfriend, perhaps a friend - and with them he smiles slightly more. But he is often alone and clarly wants to be.

You're sorry for that. You don't even know why, you have so much else to think about. You moved in the USA just a few years ago, from your  country you ended up in the middle of nowhere, in Indiana, and when you  arrived you discovered that this place is not as safe and boring as you believed. Strange deaths, accidents, earthquakes, natural disasters like it has been cursed and to be honest you have the feeling of having lost a good part of the time spent here. Now, apart from the fact that this place sucks, you should think about having fun, hanging out with boys, trying to make friends like your aunt says, but you don't. You go home at night and think of a sad stranger and you don't want to, you really don't want to but you do. Silly girl.

"What can I get you sir?" you ask, like every day. When he's alone he usually doesn't reply, he mumbles something under his mouth, looks into your eyes and points his finger at his choice. The menu next to the paper napkins is his voice and you like to listen to it.

"I'll bring it to you right away." There are no smiles between you, even if you would like to. Sometimes you've found yourself wanting a simple "thank you" said properly, not half-mouthed or in a whisper. Yet there's kindness even in the way he moves, the way he isolates himself and it's something you can't explain.

When you place the coffee on the table – a breath away from his fingers – he usually just looks at you. His are not eyes to remain indifferent to. It's not the color that makes them  so special, they're big and dark, but it's their depth, the way they seem to be a portal to that boy's soul, the way they peer into you and seem to contain not a shred of malice and seen too much. They look like a child's eyes, actually. They have something pure, sincere, tremendously tender and at the same time they contain the gaze of a veteran and they defeat you. He looks at you and you are chained. But that's okay, you wouldn't have tried to resist anyway.

He looks at you with something that reminds you of sweetness, hints at a half smile - the first - and this alone is enough to burn you inside,  even if it's snowing outside.

The boy doesn't like snow, he's always in a bad mood when it snows. One day you overheard him talking about it with his friend Dustin, Dexter, something like that. 

"Everytime I fear he is coming back"

"He can't, you know it . We made sure it can't happen again"

"Yes, but at what coast?" and his voice had broken in a yearning way, on the last syllable, like a raging river that you thought you would see burst. When you turned to look at him not a single emotion had appeared on his face. You would like to know what happened to him.

Everyday you look away from him when you realize you've spent too much time staring at him and walk away, ignoring the abandoned baconnotes on the table, silent like him. You feel stupid, a high school girl staring at the mysterious lonely boy. It's ironic and you don't know it yet, but there was a time Steve Harrington was the opposite of mysterious and lonely.

This morning it's different and you don't run away. You linger a moment too long on the marks that can be glimpsed from his shirt, scars on his neck that seem to continue under the fabric of his shirt for who knows how long. You've already noticed some small signs, but usually he's very careful to cover them. Today they are redder and more visible. You notice more scars, these never seen before, on his arms and you realize only now that he has cut his hair and when he moves them you notice and old wound on the left side of his face. 

If he wasn't around your age you'd really think he's a war veteran. You wonder what he must have been through and you don't notice his hand extended towards the cup, which meets yours. For the first time, you feel the contact with his skin, a silent echo of an unexpressed desire. You know nothing about him, barely his name. "Steve" You've heard from his friends. You know nothing of his life; still for an instant you dream of being part of it with all the monsters he must have fought to hurt himself like this. You talk with your eyes for as long as you stay close: you with a silent voice full of questions, he with a single answer. And it's always the same.

To each request, he reacts by moving his fingers, running along your palm and thumb, making red-hot marks that only you can see. You feel them, like burns on your skin, as if you are no longer in the cafeteria, surrounded by people, but in a private place, where every gesture, every touch acquires meaning. And there's no need for him to say anything, you know that today he wanted you to see his scars, he wanted to understand how you would react, he wanted you to see him for real. And you do it, you really see him, and you don't get scared. You never could. You don't know why. 

«Y/n please, could you bring me more coffee?»Another guy asks. He is just another is a customer, an ordinary, common one. Not like him. Just a guy who shows up often, asking you for coffee and smiles. And you're willing to give it to him, you're willing to pretend with the others but not with Steve, with him you only smile when you really want to and it's absurd that in his presence this happens more or less always. 

"Sure! " Breaking contact  with Steve seems more tiring than studying for the last exam, more painful than finding out you didn't pass it. You feel yourself blush as you bow your head and flutter your eyelashes, tucking the tray under your arm. Sorry, you say in one last look, ready to leave him. But he grabs your wrist with the delicacy that distinguishes him, making you turn around again. Blush again.

"I'm Steve." I know, you would like to answer however you avoid doing that. It's the first time you can hear his voice right, with words articulated slowly, fearlessly, spoken for you and you alone .

«Y/n.»

Steve runs his thumb along the inside of the wrist before letting you go, in an almost automatic gesture that he seems to regret immediately. A Last, anxious caress, which reveals what his eyes have always hidden.

"I know"

These words are the most exciting thing you've heard in a while. Suddenly you understand why Steve comes in every day, stealing a look and a few minutes of your life. Or so you believe. You feel a shiver running down your back, turning into a burning caress - the one you would like from him - and going up your spine, up to your ears. It's hope. 

You don't know how or why, you feel as if you already know him, as if in another life your skin has touched nothing but his, and you don't even believe in these things. Maybe he feels the same, the same overwhelming nostalgia for something you haven't even experienced. You hope you're right, you hope he comes here every day  just to see you, to search for a contact that happened by chance - by mistake - and to show you his tormented gaze of him, looking for the peace that he has lost in you. 

«I'll bring you some coffee» You say to another customer, looking at him without seeing him.

I have to talk to Steve. I can't let him go. Not like that. You hurry to get the hot container of coffee and reach the customer's table, dedicating a smile and a moment of your life to him. A moment that he could have, or should have, dedicated to someone else.  "Are you on duty again tonight?" You almost don't hear the question, taken as you are from another table, another customer, one different from the others. Your mind is only on Steve. "Yes," you say, glancing at Steve to make sure he's still there. He is. You suddenly feel calmer. "But only until six."

"It's already dark at six" the boy observes. "I could take you home..."

"There's really no need to, thanks." You walk up to the counter to put the container away. You hear the doorbell ring, and feel the brutal urge to turn around. 

Steve's table is now empty.

*

At six o'clock Steve stares at you from the misted window as you untie the ribbon on your apron, take it off and disappear into the back of the shop. He knows you're tired and you just want to go home. He knows it, because it's the first thing you always said to him after the shift, in another life: before Vecna, before the war, before you forgot about him forever. 

You put on your coat, gloves and wool cap, and say goodbye to your colleague. "See you tomorrow." You pull the scarf up on your chin as you open the door.  

After the war with Vecna and the disappearance of the Upside Down, even the climate has changed. The ice covers the streets, leaving just two gray trails to show the asphalt. There are very few cars parked outside the cafeteria, a badly parked red BMW stands out, it's the only one not covered in snow. Steve smiles seeing you, he holds back from calling you, enjoying the image: a colored spot in the whiteness of winter. You puff. It's cold, and you have to walk home, your high boots sinking into the white blanket, the houses still to be rebuilt across the street are the only sign of the drama Hawkins has experienced. An earthquake so strong that it has destroyed everything. You have been hurt, a head injury big enough to steal a piece of your life. A piece so important that you're only retrieving the fragments of your life here, tales of your aunt, your friends, which for some reason never seem to fit right together 

"Hey." A male voice calls you. You keep moving forward. It is not the first time that some stranger tries to approach you .

«Y/n.» You turn around, you see him and suddenly the snow and the cold disappear and the world is a warm and beautiful place. Steve. "Hello, y/n." You take a step towards him and stop, as if you've dared too much. "What are you doing out here?"

 With this wheater. You think you know the answer. And you hope to hear it from him.

"I'm here for you" Would be the sweetest music. But Steve shrugs, makes an embarrassed noise, pulling his jacket around him. You seem to notice a redness on his cheeck, you wonder if it's not just the cold. "What does it mean?" You ask, letting out a smile, tossing your tied hair. Steve's eyes catch yours, in a silent response that seems to be enough for you. For a moment everything is as before for Steve, you are only you and he is only him and in your eyes he finds the girl he fell in love with during a war that you shouldn't have had to fight. 

You arrived like lightning a year ago alongside the only friend you managed to make in the city at that time: Eddie Munson, and you were the first -together with Dustin- to try to prove his innocence, with all that this entailed: including demobats, Upside Down and Vecna. Now you don't remember anything, and maybe a little part of Steve is happy you don't have to carry the trauma with you, but you don't remember the good things either. You don't remember Eddie. When you look at his old posters or find his photos on the newspapers, to you he is just the killer who terrorized the city and you don't mourn his death. But you did it, you did it until you lost your breath, screaming at the top of your throat in the middle of the darkest night. Steve had to drag you from his  body by force, against your punches and kicks. You melted into his embrace, you vented the pain with such force that he feared your bones might break from the powerful sobs that shook you. Steve lulled you into a tormented sleep and watched over you. And then there was Max. The list of fallen soldiers got longer. Murray.Hopper, again. Will.

And Robin, oh, Rob. 

You were the only thing keeping Steve alive after that. When his best friend fell into his arms, Steve wanted to die and for a moment he stood still, ready to let himself be taken by the same cursed monster that stole Robin from him. But you were there and you needed him, he had to keep you alive. He had to think about Dustin.

Then he lost you too. In a different, unexpected way. When Vecna took you, he thought you were going to die, because the music wasn't playing and you were floating in the air and he, he looked away, like a coward, he gave up. He decided he didn't want to see you die, not like that. He regrets it every day. All he did was prepare to grab your lifeless body, imagining that he would be the next one to die. He couldn't live in a world without Robin.

 But in a world without Robin where he didn't even have you, it was torture, hell. The world was shaking again and the earth was cracking  and Steve desperately wanted to die. But you fell into his arms still alive and breathing and Eleven had killed Vecna and all you had were broken bones and a head injury from the pressure exerted by that monster. Steve didn't know it at the time, but you also had a brain injury, something strong enough to erase everything from the last three years. Everyithing about him. Your family, despite being aware of the situation, has decided not to tell you anything, to keep you away from them, from Steve.

 After all if it wasn't for them you wouldn't have been involved. Also Steve promised to protect you and he didn't. He had failed you , as he did with Robin.

Dustin has kept him alive, keeping him company in the months of solitude spent locked up in his house. Nance forced him to eat every day and Erica, Erica remained silent next to him for hours and that was enough at least for a while. Then, at a certain point, Steve saw you from the shop windows, you were working, smiling. 

And it wasn't enough anymore.

The sky is black, the streetlights barely lit up the street, yet you can understand more about Steve right now, looking at his face wrapped in half-light, than you ever guessed during these endless mornings. «Y/n» your colleague opens the door, investing you with warmth and light, so much so that you lower your eyelids.

"Sorry... I saw you out here. I just wanted to let you know that I'll come early tomorrow so you can go home early." You nod as the door closes. When you turn to Steve, you find him closer than when you last looked at him. You see his breath condense between you and join yours. Heat mingling with heat, and desire meeting desire. Steve nods at the BMW.

"I... I didn't mean to scare you, I just... I can take you home if you want." 

There is a fire inside you, even if you can't explain why. You should be scared of an unknown guy who comes to your workplace every morning and now silently approaches you to offer you a ride home on a dark winter afternoon, but the truth is that Steve makes you feel so many things and fear it's not one of them. You think that this is his car, that the car says so much about people, that you want to see what he keeps inside it, the objects that are important to him. There is probably his scent inside it. 

Steve smells good, clean.You know, you just don't know why.  "That is fine." 

"Steve, can I... Can I ask you a question?" You ask after a few steps in silence. He nods, keeps walking, his arm against yours looking for even the slightest contact. He needs it, or else he'll sink. He needs it to keep himself on his feet when dark comes and in the streets he sees the faces of his dead appear. When your bodies touch, over layers of fabric, you feel your skin melt and you wonder if maybe you're crazy. "Why me?"It's a strange question, you know, you're a little ashamed of it, and you're afraid of scaring him but you feel, somewhere inside you, that maybe he has the answer you were looking for, the missing piece in your story. Or maybe it's just an illusion. He turns around, his gaze softens and he observes you like the answer is the most obvious thing in the world. Because there is no other girl.

 He doesn't say it, he can't. He doesn't want to mess with you, he doesn't want to lose you again and scare you. 

"You know y/n, I've never met a waitress as good as you." 

You laugh, putting a hand over your mouth. "You're an easy guy to get Steve Harrington"

He opens his eyes wide and you don't realize it but is'shere, clear, limpid: Steve has never said his surname. You don't notice, not really. You keep walking beside him. "Thanks," you whisper as you let your arm slide, intertwining it with his. What would it be like to really feel his skin? 

Warm. Rough in the points furrowed by scars, soft in the rest of the body. To Feel the sensation of  naked flesh on your lips, the scent of laundry, the saltiness of his body, the pulse of the vein on his neck, where you place a kiss that isn't there, never was. It's a fantasy that looks a lot like a memory. It scares you. "Let's go." He exhorts you, with shyness and a touch of fear his hand moves to your back and your body is warm under his gaze. His breath is against his cheek, slips under the scarf, up to your neck."Yes" he says, holding his breath. It's cold, but not that much, not now, not for you. Not when you feel Steve's nose against your ear, not when he notices your twitch too. Steve closes his eyes, tries to refrain from telling you everything, from holding you tightly to him, it's so difficult now that he has you close again to resist, to keep a distance that hurts and he doesn't want. "Are you cold?" Steve asks  in a low voice, but for you this question is so much like the caress you've been craving since you became aware of his presence in the shop, since you met his gaze."Not at all'."

You feel Steve's smile on your cheek and you feel like you're. You just turn your head, just to give him the opportunity to reach your lips, but Steve doesn't kiss you, he's still with his eyes closed and who knows what he thinks of you, looking for a kiss from someone you don't even know

."You smell like coffee." The words are an incandescent breath on the mouth. His breath join yours,  you can feel the the taste of him – mint and aftershave – before you even smell it, like you've never tasted anything else in your life. 

"You don't like it?" Thrill after thrill, waiting to discover something about him that you don't know yet. Everything, you have to find out everything, but it seems to you that you have known him for a lifetime."I love coffee" You know he is lying. You just know. But you don't care. Just one question goes through your head and in order not to give it a voice you decide to shut your mouth in the best possible way at the moment. You shiver a little when your lips are close to him. You trace his cheek slowly with your lips, waiting for the moment when he pulls back and tells you you're crazy. You look for the right way to kiss him. 

"I don't usually do that. You must have something very special" You whisper against him. And Steve can't take it anymore, like a dam that breaks its banks, he pushes you completely against him, as if you were one. And then, finally, he finds his way. When he kisses you – slowly at first, giving your lips time to get to know each other; then devouring your every thought, as if nothing else exist but you – you find yourself repeating to yourself that you don't want to kiss anyone anymore. Touch no one anymore. Let anyone kiss and touch you except from Steve. 

"Steve" You murmur breathlessly, pulling away from him. "Would you think I'm crazy if I tell you something?"He shakes his head, his lips swollen and beautifully red. "Never"

"I knew you before, didn't I?" Now Steve Harrington no longer has the strength to lie.Steve Harrington has come to get his girl back and far off in the dark of night he swears he can see Robin Buckley smiling at him for it.

I miss Hamilton's fanfics that I didn't read yet

Absolutely the cutest thing. I love the sentiment that comes with a recent relationship and you described it perfectly! 🥰❤️😍

Everything Has Changed

Pairing: Steve Harrington x f!reader

Summary: Yesterday morning, your best friend, Steve, picked you up for work like always. This morning, Steve is picking you up for work again, but now he’s your boyfriend and everything has changed.

Inspiration: Everything Has Changed (Taylor Swift and Ed Sheeran)

Word count: 2547

Warnings: One swear word

A/N: I planned to write a Peter Parker fic based on this song like 6 years ago but seasons change and fictional boyfriends come and go so here we are

Read on AO3 here!

There was nothing noticeably different to the untrained eye about the way you woke up. Your cheek was creased by your pillow as always, your eyelids still drooping slightly with sleep, your bed the same wooden frame and your pyjamas the same old shirt and shorts that they always were. The insistent beeping of your alarm clock was neither more nor less annoying than usual, the birds outside singing the same song that they had sung for years. 

And yet everything had changed.

As soon as your eyes opened to the sun pouring through the gap in your curtains, a giddy spark shot through you as you remembered what had happened eighteen hours previously. A smile spread across your face until your cheeks ached and you hugged your pillow as you replayed the conversation in your head: the conversation in which your best friend had told you he was in love with you.

Continuar lendo

https://youtu.be/V4CRPvel2Vc

https://youtu.be/u5pTICZ2oeg

IT JUST DROPPED. AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH

definitely not me crying😌

Okay, I know that we must hate Agatha, she is the villain, she murdered Sparky... But I can't!

Agnes is such a great character, I absolutely love her and discovering that she is Agatha and hearing her theme song?! FUCKING INCREDIBLE

Well, I guess that makes one more villain to my list of "characters who I must hate but I don't"

I like to think that I got over the Lee Scoresby's death... I COULDN'T BE MORE WRONG!

I saw a post talking about his death like he didn't deserve it and I broke down.

I confess that I knew that Lee was gonna die. Lin's dad gave me spoiler of this, but it did hurt so much when I got to watch, I cried so much!

That was really necessary? To kill Lee, I mean

Jealous!Eddie is absolutely terrifying in this.

Billy isn't being a good boy, trying to get a reaction of Eddie 😂

I loved it. Can't wait to read the next chapters. If you are thinking in doing a tag list for this, can I be added, please?

Poison Running Through My Veins | Part 1

Another Eddie Munson x reader fic! I'm sorry it took so long but I had no inspiration for ages and then BOOM all of the sudden and I'm like okay guess I'm writing until midnight.

And I'm introducing my other red flag of a man, Billy Hargrove. Yes. He's alive in this okay and no I don't care about canon right now.

Summary/ Idea: Eddie sees you in school parking lot being very close with your ex. Jealousy and angst ensues.

I swear this was supposed to be a fun little idea and it just ended up turning into this. Whatever this is.

Warnings: Eddie Munson x fem!reader, using she/her pronouns, no mention of Y/N, Billy Hargrove is alive, Steve Harrington being a parent and doing damage control, jealousy, angst, pain, tension, little bit of billy hargrove x reader, violent tempers, Eddie be angry and jealous, reference to a Losing Sight of You, argument, possessive!eddie, highly jealous!eddie, crying, so much fucking angst, lmk if I've forgotten any.

Sorry if any errors, I haven't proofread it yet but when I do, I'll edit it properly.

No minors allowed please and thank you.

Words: 3332

I think that's everything :)

Please do not repost anywhere, I will be posting this on my AO3 and putting link here.

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3

Eddie leaned against the side of his van, arms crossed and body slumped hard against the back door. He was trying his hardest not to stare, really, he was. He fidgeted with his rings. He shoved his hands in his pockets. Then crossed his arms. Looking up at the sky, looking to the rest of the parked cars in the school parking lot. He was trying to not stare.

But every time, his eyes would drag back to the same spot he had been staring at for over 15 minutes. His leg bounced as he crossed his arms again. Fighting the urge to draw attention to himself and smack his fist against the van, he shoved his hand into his back pocket to get a smoke. Cursing as his lighter refused to light. "Fucking come on you stupid piece of crap" he muttered, baring his teeth as he grimaced.

"Munson, you alright?"

He almost jumped out of his skin as Steve tapped his shoulder. Eddie swallowed his scream but mouthed 'Jesus H Christ' as he dropped the cigarette that was in his hand, reaching into his back pocket for another one. Eyes flickering back to their original location before, going back to successfully lighting his cigarette and taking a deep drag.

Steve looking at Eddie's obviously flustered state in pure confusion. "Seriously, what is up with you-" Steve followed Eddie's line of sight and let out a small "ah" before falling silent himself and putting his hands on his hips disapprovingly.

Robin coming up to the side of Steve and gagging at the smell of smoke. Then her eyes almost bulging out of her skull at the parking lot, "Holy shit! When did Billy Hargrove get out of hospital??" Instinctively she looked to Steve for answers, but when she was met with an uncomfortably loud silence, she paused.

"Long enough to be chatting up my girlfriend" Eddie spat, quickly finishing the cigarette he only lit a few minutes ago to then scrummage through his pocket for another. As soon as another one was in his hand, Robin snatched it out of his grip.

"Dude, he's not chatting her up. They just used to date" she shrugged unbothered and threw the cigarette away. Turning back to see Steve staring at her like 'why did you do that' and Eddie looking like he was torn between throwing up and killing a man.

"They used to date?!" he hissed, trying to lower his voice. He was aware that the parking lot was practically empty but still.

Steve massaged his temples, "Yeah before the Star Court Mall situation" Eddie grinded his teeth and raked his hand through his hair, wincing slightly at the pain. "Honestly though dude, you shoulda known. It was big news throughout the whole school, Dustin never told you?"

Eddie paused at that. Maybe Dustin did tell him, but he didn't listen because he didn't pay you any attention until the last year of high school. But he remembered one thing. You had definitely never brought it up. You never even mentioned Billy Hargrove. You just mentioned that you had dated someone else before Eddie and frankly, Eddie was delighted. He knew that whoever your ex had been it wasn't something you talked about much. Eddie took that as you didn't think there wasn't much to talk about. Which meant you didn't have any high expectations when it came to dating him. But you still hadn't ever brought up just who your ex was or how it had ended. And that was what was eating him up inside. Especially since he had to hear it from someone else.

He turned his attention back to you and him chatting. Honestly, he wasn't sure why he was getting so worked up over nothing. You were just chatting to him. Sure you had the brightest smile on your face when you had ran over to him, pausing in mid conversation to see a black car pull over in the school parking lot and a tall figure step out. You still had the same smile on your face when the figure had walked over to you, clearly in pain but pushing through. The same smile on your face when he returned it. The same smile when you looked to the ground as Billy winked at you, and Eddie knew you were blushing.

"Munson, you can't take Billy in a fight so don't even try it" Steve said stealing Eddie's concentration. Eddie knew it was in case you looked back and saw how upset he was. Maybe this was why you had never brought it up. He raised his eyebrow at Steve. "Trust me, I tried." Steve said shuddering as he remembered the fight that seemed like forever ago.

"She never brought him up with me" Eddie admitted. Looking at the sky, blinking quickly, running his hand through his hair again. In the however many months you two had been dating and a year of friendship beforehand, you hadn't brought it up once. Robin and Steve gave each other a look.

"It wasn't an easy relationship" Robin offered. She knew the things you had told her. But equally she couldn't let Eddie suffer like this. "She ended it and they stayed close friends" She bit her lip looking at Steve for help.

"How close?" Eddie growled as he watched you stand on your tip toe and lean into a hug with Billy fucking Hargrove. One of his hands on upper waist, lower back, the other is slightly higher up holding you firm against him and yours around his neck.

Energy and rage rattling around inside him, feeling like he was either gonna explode or faint. So, he channelled his rage and as confidently as he could, held himself tall and started walking over. Robin elbowing Steve to catch his attention and he whipped round and saw Eddie striding towards you two. Steve quickly caught u to him, practically running towards you, and clapped his hand on Eddie's back basically telling him to 'cool the fuck down'.

As they got closer Steve called out to you, "Yo man! When did you get out of hospital?" Hearing this, you quickly separated yourself from Billy. Billy didn't let go of you as quickly and let his hands linger on you for a little longer. Your heart did a weird somersault when you turned and saw Steve and Eddie walking towards you. Seeing Eddie's face, you knew it wasn't good, but you pushed those feelings down. As Billy's hand slid down your back, the small shiver that seeped through you, you know Eddie saw.

"You still fucking here Harrington?" Steve rolled his eyes. "And who are you?" Billy scoffed pulling a cigarette out from behind his ear. You inwardly sighed. You knew Billy was deliberately pissing off Eddie. You knew he knew who Eddie was.

Sending a small look to Billy you jumped in before Eddie could retort, "This is my boyfriend, Eddie Munson. You know the guy I told you about, he has a band" You smiled your brightest smile.

"Yeah Corroded Coffin, we play Metallica covers and original songs" Eddie said puffing out his chest a little. He was nothing compared to Billy, even though Billy had been in hospital for months and not near his workout gear for ages. You tentatively tried to stand near Eddie but doing so you ended up being closer to Billy. Not what you had intended.

Eddie slung his arm around you, heavy and tight and you almost toppled over at the sheer aggression of the action. Confused by Eddie's tough guy pretention, you completely missed the way Billy smirked and raised his eyebrows at Steve. Steve just looked like he wanted to really not be there. You glanced behind you seeing Robin with the rest of the kids. You could see there was a discussion going on but you couldn't obviously hear. You just knew it wasn't good with the way Max was looking at you four.

When you thought the testosterone levels were going to explode, the words ended up falling out of your mouth before you could stop them, "We have a gig on Friday, you could come if you wanted to...?" You hadn't meant it to sound like a question and you're not sure why you asked but you'd done it now.

"We? You in the band too?" Billy asked, curiousity twinkling in his eyes and the grip on your shoulder tightened.

"Yeah, the lead singer and Eddie's the guitarist" Steve said trying to quickly end the conversation. He noticed your wince in pain as Eddie's grip on you continued to tighten. Steve gave Eddie a look, but it appeared that Eddie ignored him.

"You're sleeping with the lead guitarist? You're moving up in the world, my girl" At the pet-name you froze and smiled awkwardly, not knowing what to do. Billy was grinning, knowing full well what an absolute shit he was being. Fucking bastard.

Eddie hadn't said a word, but he didn't have to from the way his entire body tensed.

Oh shit

"Anyways. We gotta be going, rehearsal and all that." Eddie said with a tight smile, pulling you away from Billy. You stumbled backwards slightly at the sudden movement and almost fell.

"It was nice seeing you Billy" you managed to say before being dragged away for good. Steve on the other side of you in case you accidentally fell over again.

"See you around doll" You heard Billy call after you. You saw Max walk past you as he yelled, "Oi shithead! Get in the car!" with less animosity than before the Star Court Mall fire but still not with much warmth either.

It was going to be an interesting drive home...

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The car ride home was silent. Not even turning on Metallica or Iron Maiden helped the situation. Eddie had ejected the tape and shoved it into his side door pocket mid-way through the song.

You had opened your mouth to speak but got shut down real quick, "Not now" was all Eddie said. His voice remained levelled and calm, which only scared you more.

It was only when he pulled up outside his trailer did you wish you could return to the silence.

"Billy Hargrove, huh" he started. It was phrased as a statement rather than a question, so you didn't answer. He turned to finally look at you and you could see the wildfire behind his eyes. You had never seen Eddie like this. You swallowed and slowly undid your seatbelt.

"When were you gonna tell me that your last ex-boyfriend was Billy fucking Hargrove? The biggest asshole that ever showed up to Hawkins High." Eddie locked the car doors as you tried to reach for the door handle. Oh no.

You didn't usually have big explosive fights. The last fight you had that was this big was when he had been keeping it a secret that he had been doing drug deals and meeting up with Chrissy Cunningham - when both of you knew full well, that he used to have a crush on her since middle school.

"You never asked" you shrugged your shoulders. You knew that wasn't the answer he was looking for, but it was the most straightforward one. Because it was the truth. He hadn't ever asked or pressed further about your past relationship.

"I had to find out from Steve and that was after you had run off to be all flirty with him"

That made your blood boil, "What is that supposed to mean? I wasn't being flirty, you idiot! I was happy that he was finally out of hospital. I was there at Star Court Mall too ya know!" Huffing you put your head in your hands. Completely shocked that you were even having this conversation right now.

"Oh yeah sure that's what we're calling it." He smacked the side of the driving wheel making you almost jump. Eddie talked with his hands, but he never hit things. You started feeling uneasy and trapped.

You ran your hands down your face and tried to keep yourself calm. You knew Eddie would let you out once he had calmed down a bit. You just had to get him there. "Oh my god what is going on? I love you - you absolute dumbass! I'm with you, I sleep with you, I practically almost live with you considering how much I come round to yours." You voice sounding strangled at the end. "Why are you so worked up about this?"

Looking at him exasperated you could see his eyes still blazing with unquenched fire.

Then it dawned on you.

"Are you jealous?" You looked at him as you waited for a response. When none came and he looked down at the steering wheel biting his lip, you gasped. "You are jealous! Is this what this is all about?" You relaxed into your chair your mind going hazy with both disbelief and shock. "So, cards on the table. You go and sneak off with your middle school crush for weeks on end, during which you avoid me, and I have to find you and confront you about it. But on the other hand, I'm just talking to my ex-boyfriend in a friendly way, and you fly off the handle after not even 20 minutes?!"

You waited for his response. When none came you clicked the air in front of his face annoyed. "Hello? Got nothing to say? What, did you lose your argument when you realised that you got nothing to be angry about?"

When he just looked at you, you just sunk back down into your chair. Arms crossed, annoyed and exasperated that your boyfriend was even angry about this in the first place. Gently rubbing your thumb over the part of your shoulder he had been gripping tightly during your encounter with Billy, you bit the inside of your cheek. You weren't sure what on earth you had to do to prove to Eddie that you weren't going anywhere and that he shouldn't be jealous. But from his expression and the way anger was still flowing through him, you knew your words would fall on deaf ears.

"Let me out of the car Eddie" you said. Feeling claustrophobic in the car with all this anger and negativity swirling around in front of you, you needed to in the fresh air.

"Not until you promise me you won't see him again" Eddie breathed out, staring ahead of him at the trailer door.

You looked at him thinking that he was joking. But the look on his face said that he was definitely not. Still, "you're kidding" you scoffed. He couldn't be serious. Eddie had never been like this with anyone else. He was jealous of Steve, you knew that, especially at the beginning of the relationship. But he had never said that you couldn't see him. This was ridiculous.

"Promise me" Eddie responded in a monotone voice. He still wasn't looking at you.

"Eddie, you're scaring me. Please let me out of the car" you tried again. A tremor of fear ran up your spine and you saw Eddie finally look at you. The fire behind his eyes was gone but the poison that had inflicted him with this jealousy. The poison was still there. His pupil massive, like he was on something. You could see it in the way he stared at you expressionless. Your heart rate quickening.

You've never known Eddie to be scary like this. This kind of possessiveness reminded you of home and the flashback memories started coming to the front of your mind. Your hand fumbled as you tried frantically to jiggle the door handle, but it was still locked.

Eddie grabbed your wrist and pulled you towards him, "Am I your replacement for him? What, we both listen to heavy rock and know about the Upside Down so you think 'yeah I can replace him with another fucking weirdo'? Were you planning on leaving me as soon as he got better?" As you shook your head repeatedly, his grip on your wrist tightened, "Now, promise me" he said each word slowly. Over punctuating each syllable.

"Eddie, please." your voice trembled with fear and pain. Where he was holding you on your wrist was aching and you could see your hand turning blue with lack of blood circulation.

You saw something flash behind his eyes and all of a sudden, his pupils returned back to regular size, and he let go of you. He unlocked the doors and stayed sat inside the car before jumping out and slamming his door shut. You shrunk back at the noise, your body taught with fear and caressing the purple bruise forming around your wrist from how tightly Eddie had been holding you.

You slowly got out of the car, legs wobbling slightly. Closing the door slowly, you leaned against the cool metal of the van. Breathing deeply, you sighed at the fight that had just unfolded. Your head was swimming with thoughts. Why was Eddie so jealous of Billy? Was he this jealous of Steve when he was first introduced to the gang? None of what he said he meant right? You could provide no answers to the questions swirling inside your mind. But you heard footsteps, so you straightened up, ready in case Eddie wanted a round 2.

You felt yourself be pulled into a gentle hug. Your nose breathing in his scent slowly. Still trying to keep your breathing steady so that you didn't start crying. "I'm so sorry for how I was with you then. I just got so angry" Your face buried into his hair so you could barely hear what he was saying over the sound of your mind and your heartbeat. "My dad used to lose his temper like that with me, I guess I lived up to the Munson name." You knew he was trying to apologise and make a joke out of it, but it felt like he was excusing his behaviour to genetics. You made a small 'hmm' noise in response and the hug became slightly tighter

You pulled away first. "I'm gonna go home. I need to be on my own for a bit" you murmured. Refusing to look him in the eye, because you were still terrified, you'd see the poison still there and also because you knew if you looked at him, you would definitely lose all control of your emotions and weep.

"I'll call you?" He offered. You simply nodded. Your vocal cords tired after the short but explosive fight. He'd let you walk to your trailer across the trailer park by yourself. He knew he had overstepped the line and he knew that you needed space. He sighed. "I've really fucked this up" he pinched the bridge of his nose and walk walked into his trailer when you began walking away.

As you made your way passed Max's trailer you stopped to pet one of your neighbours' dogs. The silly good boy wagged his tail and whined, putting his paw up against the fence. "I'm fine, I promise" you managed a small smile when you reached through the fence to scratch his ears. A couple of small tears escaped through the quick blinking of your eyes. You used your other hand to wipe them away, pausing when you saw the bruise on your wrist develop fully.

The doggy whined and sniffed at your hand before licking your fingers softly. "Thanks for making me feel a bit better" you let out a soft laugh at the feeling. "You're a good boy" you said, and the doggy woofed in response, clearly pleased.

"And here's me thinking you'd only call me that"

You turned around too quickly, almost losing your footing, but a large hand caught you by the waist in time. You recognised the voice and the hand simultaneously.

"Hi billy"

================================================

if you liked this please like, comment, follow and reblog for more. This is going to end up being more chapters because I have so many ideas of where I want this to go. Hope you enjoyed!

🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺

Okay, so this idea popped into my head today. Marc Spector, injury dialogue prompt 16, and a nurse reader. It’s just chef’s kiss

"I'd hate to be a burden..." || "It's alright, (Name). I don't mind taking care of you"

a/n: nurse!reader x marc is something that can be so personal actually....warnings for blood, injuries, etc.

"That guy is here again."

You glance up from the chart in your hands, frowning at your smirking coworker. She raises a brow and takes a long sip from the water bottle in her hands, not breaking eye contact.

She smacks her lips when she lowers the bottle, "Y'know, the really hot one?"

You don't respond, turning back to the chart and sliding your finger down the page, looking for the information you'd been trying to input into the monitor in front of you.

"I can tend to him, if you like. Slow night and all." She tilts her head, like she knows she's already got your goat, laughter in her voice. "Plus, he's all sweaty and miserable and I'm dying to see the abs he's clearly hiding."

A flare of jealousy you have no control over rears up.

"No," you respond, a little too fast. "I'll get him."

"Mhm," she hums. "Let him take you home this time," she advises.

You roll your eyes and squint at the screen in front of you, vision doubling as you stare, your eyes tired and body aching after such a long shift. "He doesn't want to take me home."

"Sure," she nods, eyes wide, tone sarcastic. "Just has a way of showing up here broken at the end of your shifts."

You don't respond, gritting your teeth instead, eyes sore with strain, a headache beginning a slow pounding at your temples. "Just let him know I'll be there in a minute. If he's not bleeding to death."

"He's right as rain, I imagine. He could patch himself up, I think. Says he'll only see you anyways."

You don't grace her with a response, and she laughs as she walks away, back in the direction of the clinic's waiting room.

After you finish entering the patient's information, you take a moment to breathe. In, out. In, out.

You can do this. You're almost to the finish line.

You shove the patient's chart back into the filing stand before turning to make your way to the lobby.

Lo and behold, Marc Spector stands alone in the clinic's lobby, leaning carefully against the wall, idly watching the silent children's movie playing on a TV in the corner. Something in your chest cracks, knowing that he hasn't sat down to avoid staining the newly reupholstered waiting room chairs.

He looks just the way he had the first night you met him, when he was just some blood speckled guy in the lobby, grouchy but kind.

"Marc?" You call, jerking your head toward the hall to the exam rooms. "C'mon."

His eyes snap to you, gaze softening a fraction as he pushes himself off the wall and follows you easily.

"That other nurse thinks I come here to hit on you," he says when you shut the door of the exam room behind you.

"Well," you lead him to the sink in the corner, holding a hand up to him. "Don't you?"

Marc grunts and looks away as you wash your hands thoroughly. "Your turn," you nudge him in front of the sink with your knee. "All the way up to your elbows. Scrub."

"I know," he grumbles at you, perpetually cranky.

You lean next to him, watching the pink and rust of blood swirl down the drain. "At least you've stopped scaring the staff."

"I don't mean to scare anyone," he rumbles calmly.

You smile, some of your exhaustion peeling away. "I know you don't." You want to touch him, but you turn to snap on a pair of gloves instead as Marc finishes washing and pats his hands and arms dry with paper towels.

"Do I scare you?"

"Not nearly as much as you'd like to believe, Spector." You follow him to one of the plastic chairs where he finally takes a seat with a groan. You know he hates sitting on the exam table and so you don't make him.

His eyes are hard, a little crease between them. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"Nothin'," you tilt his face up, examining the cuts that litter his skin. "Are you hurt anywhere I can't see? Linda wants to see your abs."

Marc chokes out an unexpected laugh. "Got a slash on my leg. Sorry I didn't get my guts torn out."

"What she doesn't know if that you've got a cute little belly," you say as you turn to grab the supplies you'll need to clean and bandage and suture him.

He's trying to hide a smile when you turn back. "That's not very nice."

"It's very nice actually. You're strong and it shows. Abs are over-fucking-rated. All show, no strength," you inform him, cleaning a cut along his cheekbone with long, measured, careful pressure.

Marc doesn't answer you. Though you notice his cheeks are a bit pink as he watches you staunch the bleeding on a couple of wounds on his arms and hands and along his jaw. You examine the cut on his thigh and sigh. "That's going to need stitches. Christ, Marc, what were you doing?" You ask, deciding that needs attention first.

"Nothin'," he lies. "Nothing you need to worry about."

You raise a brow at him, cutting some of the fabric around the wound away, before you set to cleaning it too.

"I hate to - I don't mean to take up your time like this -," he stutters suddenly. "You're always so busy here. I -,"

"It's alright, Marc. I don't mind taking care of you," you say gently, interrupting him. "I'd rather you come here. To me."

Marc's chest hitches, but you don't look up, not sure you'll be able to handle whatever expression is on his face.

You make quick work of the stitches, dabbing on numbing cream and angling your body to block Marc's view of the process as much as you're able to. "There," you say when the bandage is in place, straightening and stepping back a bit.

Marc remains silent, his face a carefully schooled neutral mask as he watches you work slowly up his body. You treat the cuts on his arms and face. He's stoic and silent but his eyes are revealing when you dare to look into them, the hardened cut of his resting face doing nothing to hide what lay in his gaze.

Guilt.

Your ribs tighten, squeezing at your lungs. You hate when he looks at you like that, like he would only ever take things from you.

"When Linda told me you were here," you start, swabbing some cream onto the bruises he's laden with. "She said you were all sweaty and miserable and hot."

He laughs again, the sound clearly unexpected to him, and you smile, having gotten what you aimed for. "And hot?"

You nod, "Precisely. And hot."

"Am I missing something here, baby?"

You finish with the last bruise and slide your gloves off, tossing them away and stepping between his thighs, to cup his jaw between your hands. "Probably. Like, I guess there's just something about a pathetic, miserable man, waiting for his partner that really does it for the ladies. Y'know?"

"Not really, no," he says, curling his arms around your hips, tilting his head against your belly as you bury your hands in his sweat dampened hair. "Sorry. I only want you."

Your heart flutters, even though you know he means to take care of him, that he doesn't like anyone else patching him up, touching him when they don't know how and when it's okay to touch him.

"Hey," he pulls back. "I am sorry. I know you're exhausted. I don't do this on purpose -,"

You smile, "You kinda do. That's okay." Marc lets you kiss him, hums when you slide your tongue against his bottom lip. His mouth falls open to you easily, breath warm against your mouth. He waits for you, waits for you to make the decision to kiss him again. When you do, again and again and again, he tastes like the coppery tint of blood, but underneath that, like Marc.

He hums again, tightens his arms around you. "You can always tell me to fuck off, y'know?" He says when he pulls back, eyes still closed. "If you don't want to deal with me."

"Deal with you?" You ask, cupping his cheeks between your palms, thumbs sweeping over the strong arch of bone. "Marc, I don't deal with you. Dealing is, like, something you don't want to put up with but you do anyways."

"Is that not what's goin' on?" He asks warily, blinking up at you.

"No," you say, only a little horrified. "No, of course not."

"So Linda's not gettin' the chance to see my abs anytime soon," he pats your hip and labors to his feet.

You laugh, and Marc does too. "No. Definitely not. You're my favorite patient."

"Hope I'm a little more than that," he touches the space beneath your eyes. "Let's get you home. You're exhausted. When's your shift over?"

"Now," you yawn, snuggling into his arms for the brief moment he hugs you close. "You're my last. Lemme go get my stuff."

Marc holds you longer than he usually does, nose against your temple. "Thank you."

You're not sure what he means, what he's thanking you for. Still you answer, "anytime, baby."

Ugh, the cutest thing I've read today 🥹❤️

♡ asking steve harrington to be your first kiss!

𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐀𝐒𝐊 𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐕𝐄 𝐓𝐎 𝐁𝐄 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐅𝐈𝐑𝐒𝐓 𝐊𝐈𝐒𝐒.

pairings ; steve harrington x shy!reader 

warnings ;  friends but with mutual pining, shy!reader, first kiss, food, pet names, mentions of steve biting ( i promise it’s just a wee joke and isn’t as weird as it might sound. )

word count ; 1704 — whoops.

additional notes ; i swear harmonia, i see your concepts and stuff in people's asks and i think you're literally the best at it so thank you so much for sending this sweet blurb idea through <33

“stevie?” you ask into the empty air, tearing your eyes away from the view in steve’s passenger seat as you previously pondered silently. “mhm?” is all he mumbles back, to show he’s listening while scooping another spoonful of the chocolate ice cream from his tub.

you weren’t sure why you were having ice cream on a cold winter’s night, but steve had suggested it and you never tend to question steve’s random motives as such. your half-eaten raspberry tub rests on your lap, slightly melted from neglect during the reverie you coaxed yourself into. parked atop a hill overlooking the town below the moonlight.

you don’t continue at first, looking down to your knee which now bounces anxiously. and with the extra space of silence, steve looks up from his ice cream, eyes peeking beneath the strands of hair that poke his face.

sitting the tub into one cup holder, steve moves back against his seat, one hand beginning to drum the steering wheel aimlessly while he watches your body language. “you don’t like it? thought it was one of your favourites?” steve continues worriedly, and nods towards the dessert in your hands.

you shake your head, ushering it into the cup holder beside his with a very small, “no, no. i do… i’ll have it in a second.”

“okay.”

the car falls silent again, steve watches as you slump against your seat and lose yourself in the view again. however, steve can tell it isn’t the landscape you’re thinking of, but if only he could pinpoint exactly what you were thinking.

penny for your thoughts, steve thinks and hesitates upon saying. in the end leaving you be at first, instead reaching a hand over to your restless knee and it suddenly stops moving. steve squeezes it affectionately, a small message that he’s still listening as he turns down the radio ever so slightly.

“what was your first kiss like?” you splutter all of a sudden, voice quiet and a deep nervous inhale following. steve wasn’t expecting it, eyes blinking and eyebrows raising as he processes the question. he taps your knee once more before moving his hand back to his lap, and you immediately miss the warmth.

“eighth grade with vanessa johnson. i freaked out so bad i bit her lip and she never spoke to me again.”

with steve’s statement you giggle. of course he did just that. “you bit her?” you repeat, hand covering your mouth as more laughter falls from your lips, and steve joins you with an amused nod, “sure did.”

your hand falls from your mouth while you lean your head back to face the car roof, laughter slowly falling back down and steve can only watch you with the fondest smile. “do you bite every girl you kiss?”

“no. funnily enough it was an accident and she hated my guts for it,” steve responds to your teasing with another chuckle emitting his throat. your head tilts to the side, cheek pressed to your shoulder as you look over at him, his gaze intoxicating as he smiles so warmly towards you.

“i got much better, y’know?” steve smirks, ego boosting himself. “i know,” you reply without thinking and steve pulls a face, confusion and amusement packed into one before nudging your arm gently, “what do you mean you know?”

you laugh again, embarrassed and quietly when you reply, “high school girls locker room. steve harrington was the topic of conversation most days before gym class for the popular girls.” steve grimaces, unamused and worried about the fact that you had heard those conversations about steve’s kissing techniques.

“god, high school. don’t miss it a bit.”

you don’t reply. looking out the passenger door window and to the couple of cars upon that side, distractedly staring as you sigh sadly. and steve’s not an idiot. he’s your best friend and also someone who’s been infatuated with you for years, he can tell what you’re thinking this time.

“it’ll happen, you just need to find the right person.”

your first kiss. still in your twenties without having ever kissed someone, while others around you were now in serious relationships.

you close your eyes and sigh at steve’s words. that’s the problem; you have always had the right person but you’re too terrified to make the first move. the unbearable fear that steve wouldn’t like you back was excruciating while he dated several girls during your friendship that you hoped he would be brave enough to do something instead.

maybe he just wasn’t interested in you that way. since he had no problem asking all those other girls out, as far as you can tell.

“i have an idea.”

steve’s quiet and patient to match your timid voice, you can usually get more shy in conversations you’re scared of and he’s willing to hear you out. but when is he never. “yeah?” is all he asks, practically a whisper.

your words get lodged in your throat, how are you supposed to ask your best friend to kiss you? that’s not easy. what if he hates you after? what if he thinks you’re impatient? or what if it ruins your friendship?

you wave yourself off, cringing on yourself and about to change the subject completely while leaning a hand down for your tub of ice cream but steve grips your hand and bends his head down to meet your gaze.

“hey, hey, hey. you can tell me your idea. i won’t judge you.”

“i don’t know, steve, i—” steve turns, his body facing yours while he grips your other free hand and you follow his movements to face him more clearer. the car light was on while you previously ate and it illuminated the tanned skin upon his face, showing off the sweet dark freckles spotted across his cheek and neck. 

“i know who i want to be my first kiss.”

your forehead falls into you and steve’s held hands, embarrassed while a small ‘o’ shape forms on steve’s mouth as he thinks. “oh,” is all steve says, a pang of hurt sprawling across his chest rapidly at the word. someone. someone.

before you can lift your head to ramble an apology about how stupid it is, steve beats you to it by holding onto his pride and storing away his sadness. “any guy would be so lucky to have you, yeah? so lucky, baby. and if you know who you want to be your first kiss, i say go for it.”

steve’s ready to continue, busy trying to seem like he’s okay with this idea and not noticing that you lift your head back up to look at him properly. he doesn’t notice the way you squeeze his gripping hands or giggle at his rushed voice, he doesn’t notice anything until you say, “steve.”

it’s quiet. your voice barely audible but steve thanks his good hearing because he immediately cuts himself off to listen to you. your faces are close, his pupils rapidly moving when they scan over your features as if he’s figuring out what you’re trying to say.

“what, baby?”

“steve.” you say again, tone knowing and desperate and almost a hint of feeling shameful and steve’s eyes widen when yours fleet to his lips for the shortest second. this can’t be real, steve thinks. there’s no way.

you huff when he still sits still, hands keep holding yours tightly, “don’t make me say it,” you whine and steve chuckles. he tilts his head down, forehead pressed against yours as he replies, “oh, but i want you to say it. please say it.”

you can feel the warmth spread to your face as another shy whine threatens to break your throat, but just as you move your head in an attempt to tuck it into his neck, steve’s hands are shuffling from yours so he’s cupping your face.

“it’s okay, baby. it’s okay. i can do it, i’ll gladly do it. if you want me to?” his thumbs swipe your skin so delicately and his eyes are gazing with such a genuine stare that you feel you might crumble. with a nod, there’s a strangled sentence you let out, “y-yes. i do, stevie.”

he chuckles once more, a mixture of how cute he thinks you are but also in disbelief that he’s about to kiss you.

steve’s so slow, head tilting as he leans forward so his nose runs across your skin and you can feel the ghost of his lips closer and closer. in a warm daze, you whisper into the cold car when steve’s lips touch the corner of yours, “don’t bite me.”

you feel the curve of his smile while his nose drags down your face so he’s tucked under your jaw, both of your chests heaving with laughter. your hands reach up so they are holding onto his wrists, and he looks back up at your cupped face, “no promises, you’ll probably taste of raspberry ice cream.”

this time steve’s patience isn’t as strong, leaning forward to crash his lips against yours in what you believe will be most breath-taking kiss you could ever receive. corners of both your lips threaten to smile as you feel the sparks within your chest and squeeze the skin of his wrists.

he tastes of chocolate from his ice cream and the coffee he had earlier on and you go light-headed at the thought, never wanting to pull away. he’s so sweet and slow, lips guiding yours against his so tenderly that you pray to god it won’t be the last steve harrington kiss you receive.

you both reluctantly pull away, lungs begging to be filled with air but steve only pulls away for a moment before pecking your lips again. your mind feels foggy from the gesture that you almost don’t notice the nip to your bottom lip as steve pulls away.

you gasp mockingly, opening your eyes with steve’s smug smirk, turning his palms from your face so he can hold yours again, resting them against your lap. “i was right,” steve says, leaning forward when you dip your head to contain your happiness.

“you taste like raspberries,” steve murmurs just as happily against your lips.

⤸

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