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You Make It Easy

Steve Harrington x fem!reader [9k] prompts: "I almost lost you" "I fucking hate you" "I’m never leaving, promise" and "I’ve never felt this way before and I’m terrified to be honest.” A little upside down angst, some soft sex, best friends to lovers.

“God, I fucking hate you,” Steve panted, his voice pained and his words harsh but there wasn’t any heat behind it, his hands soft on you as he pulled you into the rough surface of the rock face. 

“Hey now, that’s not v’nice” you mumbled, voice fuzzy and you hissed in pain when Steve tried to gather you into his side, lifting at your sleeve, exposing the bite marks on your shoulder. 

You really didn’t understand Steve’s confusion at the sight of you appearing from the gate, waterlogged and chest heaving, ready to run for him, fight for him. You knew he’d do the same for you, for any of you. It’s why the idiot was the one to declare he was jumping over the side of the boat in the first place. 

He’d left you on the narrow bench, rocking on the surface of Lovers Lake in darkness as Robin counted the seconds he’d been submerged, sounding like a ticking time bomb as you stared into the water, willing him to surface. 

When he eventually did, you didn’t anticipate him to be ripped from your grip so quickly, so easily. You’d heard him call out your name, voice shocked, just as he swallowed water and disappeared. 

The only person that seemed so shocked you’d immediately followed him, was Steve himself. Your jacket and any logic you’d had, had been left on the floor of the boat, your only thought being the safety of your best friend. 

“Shut up,” there still wasn't any bite to his words, his eyes flashing with worry and anger, and you could feel it roll off of him in waves, his hands shaking on you. 

Robin and Nancy exchanged a look, unsure if they should be helping or not, but god they were just as scared, eyes frantic, knowing all too well what else could come out from the vines and red mist of the upside down. So they stayed at the edges of you both, shoulder to shoulder and watching the tree line for monsters and nightmares. 

Steve sucked in his bottom lip, trying to stay calm despite the situation you were all in. He felt helpless, frantic at the sight of your blood and the way your eyes were turning a little unfocused. 

Dust and grey matter floated around you all, Eddie and the girls bathed in a dull, crimson light as they stared at you both, everyone with their own injuries. Cuts littered everyone’s skin, their clothes ripped, eyes wide, chests heaving. 

“You never listen to me, you never goddamn listen to me, I told you to stay in the boat!” Steve was rambling now, voice climbing a little higher in volume as the landscape around you roared and hissed with life. 

He stared at you, wide eyed. “Why d’you gotta be so fuckin’ stubborn, huh, sweetheart?”

“It’s been four years Harrington, that shit is on you if you think if I’m gonna start listening now.” 

Your eyes were closed, hiding from the pain or your best friend’s accusatory glare, you weren’t sure, but when you heard a small snort of laughter, you knew it was Robin. You opened one eye, peeking out from your lashes and you watched the girl shake her head when you winked at her. 

Steve was decidedly less amused. He was muttering to himself, completely ignoring your smart ass cracks but he winced and frowned every time you let a whimper of pain slip out. He felt sick, stomach rolling at the sight of your injuries, hating that you were hurt, mortified that it was because of him. 

You could feel his hands on you, pressure and something stung, something seared at your skin and you tried not to think about it, tried not to think about how it was almost Steve. You felt a little sick, the image of the boy in the ground with that thing wrapped around his neck, like something out of a horror movie, your own personal nightmare. 

It didn’t matter that you were hurt. You were fine. And Steve was safe. You’d slammed the bat with a broken oar, the wood rotting and damp in your hands and it left splinters and dirt in your palms. But you’d swung it almost mindlessly, panic in your chest that burned worse than the cuts and bites, because Steve had been choking. 

He whispered your name and it sounded like a prayer, like a cry for help and you immediately sobered when you pulled your gaze away from Robin and looked back at the boy. 

The smile slipped from your face and you realised you’d been slipping down further against skull rock, eyes lazy and unseeing as you let sleep pull at you. It all felt like a bad dream, a nightmare that nipped and sliced at your skin, razor sharp teeth gnawing at your bones until they burned. 

Steve was on the ground next to you, kneeling in the rocks and dirt as he crowded into you, hands pressing material onto your upper arm that you quickly realised Nancy had ripped from her shirt. 

His movements were clumsy and he was trying so hard to be gentle, to not hurt you anymore than you already were but his chest was heaving, his brown eyes were glassy. 

Nancy hovered, placing a hand on his shoulder before whispering, “Hey, why don’t you let me help her?“

But he was shaking his head furiously, eyes set on you, on the blood that was running down your arm, soaking into your shirt and turning the cotton a dark red. He was stubborn and determined, completely unaware of the tears that were making his vision blurry because his attention was solely set on you - the fact that he could feel you warm and moving under his palms was the only thing keeping him together. 

“Steve-” you began gently, voice breaking and wavering at the sight of him. 

Dirt and blood streaked the sides of his face and neck, an angry, red welt there that you knew you would stay for a while; a horrific reminder of what you had to watch. He blinked at your voice, hands pausing, chest wrecked and finally, a tear tracked its way down his cheek, cutting through the grime and landing on his lip. 

“I told you to stay on the boat,” he said again, but this time his voice was shot, cracking, splitting, shaking and he shuddered a little when he stole a gasp of air, his forearm swiping angrily across his lips, smearing tears and blood. 

You tried to move, groaning when you shifted closer to him, just an inch - it was all you could manage - but you caught his chin in your hand, eyes wide, fingers splayed across his cheek and jaw as you rubbed circles into his skin with your thumb. 

“I’m fine,” you whispered, trying with everything in you to soothe the boy, to bring back the same sarky attitude he had with you before. “I’m okay, I’m here and I know you hate me, I was just trying to-”

“I don’t hate you,” he scoffed and Steve was shaking his head, loosening your grasp on him and rocked back on his knees, staring at you with such guilt that it ruined you. 

 “I almost lost you,” Steve’s voice had risen again, his words biting and left hanging in the air and behind the anger, the frustration you could hear what was written in his eyes, what was making his chest heave. 

Fear. 

Behind you both, Nancy, Robin and Eddie shuffled, moving a few feet away to offer you what little privacy they could afford despite the overwhelming threat of god knows what. 

The Upside Down was still breathing with you all, it had its own heartbeat, a pulse underneath your feet that served as a constant reminder that you were being watched, tracked. 

Like something was waiting. 

But suddenly, there wasn’t anything more terrifying than watching Steve break apart in front of you, face damp with dirt, blood and tears, a pretty mess that you wanted to curl into, to ask ‘please take me home, it hurts.’

You sniffed instead, swallowed a gulp of air that tasted stale and like metal and you nodded, understanding. It took you a second but you moved to your knees, pulling yourself up gingerly with your hands gripping your best friend's sides. He was swearing, alarmed and annoyed that you were exerting yourself more than you should but you could feel the way his chest heaved underneath your touch, the way the air between you both crackled and roared with panic. 

Anxiety was rolling off of the boy in waves and you wanted to do what you couldn’t do before, you wanted to grab his hand and pull him back up. Out of the water, out of the dark and into the boat. 

Safe. 

Your hands found his face again, thumbs smoothing away the tears that streaked his cheeks and lip as you swayed into him, chests bumping and he caught you, hands wide across your ribs, his palms gingerly avoiding your wounds. 

“Steve,” you whispered, trying to sound stern, trying to cut through his panic but your voice was cracking too, his emotions seeping into your own chest, squeezing at your heart, “Steve, babe, hey.”

He blinked, focusing on you, eyes roaming desperately over your features and he let out a gasp of breath that sounded like a sigh of relief and as he leant into you, forehead brushing your own, he was mumbling, voice soft and a little broken. 

“I almost lost you,” he repeated, “you should’ve stayed on the boat, I thought I fucking lost you.”

“Shh, I know, it’s okay, I know,” you soothed him, eyes frantic as you scanned his face, watching how his strong features crumpled, like he was losing the strength that was holding him together. 

“I’m here, I’m okay,” you reminded him and you moved slowly and carefully into him, hands dragging from his cheeks and into the hair at the nape of his neck as you wound your arms around him. 

It took a second or two, maybe less, before Steve let himself return the touch, strong arms wrapping around your waist and you closed your eyes at the feel of it, not at all surprised to feel your own tears slipping down your cheeks, salt on your lips. 

The pain you felt from your bites and cuts disappeared at his embrace, just for a minute. It was enough to warm you, the cold damp from the lake still sticking to your clothes and skin, but the feel of Steve safe and solid against you made you feel like everything was okay. 

Somewhere in the distance, a creature roared and the boy’s hold on you tightened. 

“You think I’m that easy to get rid of, huh?” You tried to lighten your voice, soften your tone, and you pressed the words into the soft skin of the boy's neck, your lips moving against the curve of it in an almost kiss. “Someone’s gotta stick around and watch your dumb ass, you’d never get anything done without me.”

You felt Steve let out a huff of breath, hot air falling onto your cheek as he pressed himself into you and it sounded like a laugh, like relief and sunshine and safety. 

If you closed your eyes and played make believe, you could imagine you were in Steve’s bedroom, drunk after a stupid party and holding your best friend as you fell asleep, wishing and pretending it was something more. 

“I’m okay,” you told him again, voice a little firmer and he nodded against you, his breathing stuttering as you soothed a hand over his wild hair, trailing your palm across the back of his neck. “We’re okay, I’m not leaving. Not leaving you, promise.”

The feel of his lips pressed to your temple, white hot and burning your skin, told you that he believed you. 

—————

Going back to Steve’s house was the easiest option, for all of you. The home lay empty, free of worried parents, panicked questions, calls to the police that wouldn’t make any difference. 

You sat in the back of the car, pressed between Robin and Steve, ‘cause after the kids dropped you a lifeline from Eddie's trailer, you’d watched in surprise as Steve threw his car keys to the other boy, his hand tightly intertwined with your own and no one questioned it. 

He wasn’t letting go of you and nobody was going to make him. 

Dustin, Max and Lucas were in the trunk, quiet and wide eyes searching their older friends for some signs of reassurance. Nancy was up front with Eddie, talking softly about how everyone needed a hot shower and a good sleep, answering the questions that Dustin was asking, the younger boy’s voice worried and choked. 

You leaned into Steve, your cheek on his shoulder, his head resting on yours and every now and then, he’d run his thumb over the top of your hand, reassuring you and himself, that you were both still there. 

Eddie slowed and stopped at each house, dropping off the younger of the bunch and you all watched until they disappeared into the safety of their homes, one by one, waving before the doors closed. 

You weren’t sure who decided the five of you were staying at Steve’s, it could’ve been Nancy, maybe even Robin. But Steve hummed his agreement and Robin directed the other boy to the house, impressive as it was empty. The windows were dark, the driveway clear and when you all stepped out onto the front porch, you could smell the chlorine from the backyard pool, a false sense of summer and happy memories. 

It was easy to let Steve guide you to one of the bathrooms, Nancy and Eddie peeling off on the ground floor to find a shower and food, the kitchen lit up as the smaller girl busied herself at the oven, pressing buttons until it hummed to life and she searched the freezer drawers for pizzas and chicken nuggets, potato waffles and frozen fries, a late night dinner than Dustin would have envied. 

You could smell pepperoni and the coffee machine that Steve’s mom bought but never used groaned and clicked to life, but Steve still had his hand in yours, the other on the small of your back as he led you to the en-suite off of his bedroom, as if keeping you as close as possible to the things he held dear would keep you the safest. 

It was a little hazy as he pushed open the shower door, murmuring softly about water temperatures and left to right as he tapped the dials. You could only really nod, your grip on him still tight and you briefly wondered if you were able to let him go, if he was gonna be able to walk away from you. 

But then he was turning on the water for you, spray hitting against the tray and it immediately engulfed you both in warm steam, sticking to your skin and easing some of the tension you held in your bones. 

“I’ll be right back okay?” Steve told you, voice low and gentle as if he was worried he’d scare you. “I’m just gonna get you some clean clothes.” 

You nodded again and despite what he’d just told you, you were surprised when his hand slid from your own. You felt uneasy, alone, surrounded by the mist of the hot water but Steve kept the door open and you watched him as he busied himself at his drawers, pulling out shorts and shirts, discarding them on the floor until he found one he deemed comfortable enough for you. 

Slipping back into the small bathroom, he placed the clothes on the sink top and ducked his head a little to look at you, gazes meeting. You felt far away and somewhere in the back of your head, you wondered if this is what shock felt like. The humour and sarcasm that fuelled your experience in the Upside Down had long left, sinking away with the adrenaline that kept most of the pain at bay. 

But now your arm was aching and your mind was slower, foggier; and moving felt like running through water. Catching Steve’s gaze was the only thing that seemed to ground you then, one hand catching your chin and he lifted your face to look at him, eyes searching. 

“You okay?” He whispered it, as if he was terrified to hear the answer. 

You were ready to nod again, for a third time but he caught you, fingers smoothing your hair back from your eyes and he looked at you almost pleadingly when he asked, “please, sweetheart, lemme hear you? I need to know if you’re alright, yeah?”

Your throat felt dry but you licked your lips and swallowed, hand reaching up to where he held you, fingers wrapping around his wrist as if he was the only thing that was giving you the strength to still stand. You were so tired. 

“I’m okay,” you mumbled, voice cracking a little. “Exhausted.”

Steve nodded, a humourless smile on his lips and he pressed his forehead to yours, leaning down into you as you both sought out that little slice of home within a house that didn’t feel like it belonged to either of you. 

“What ‘bout you?” Your words were pushed into his top lip, barely grazing but he felt you, warm and soft in front of him. 

“Used to it,” he grimaced, chuckling when you rolled your eyes. He turned serious when he cupped the back of your neck, somehow bringing you impossibly closer. “Just please, please don’t do that again. Not for me.”

If you’d had the energy, you would’ve argued with him all night. You would’ve shoved at the boy, angry tears in your eyes, frustration biting at your skin before pulling him back into you and telling him how loved he was, how much you needed him. How you’d jump out of any boat, how you’d follow him to the ends of the earth if he needed your help. 

But the shower was still running and the room was filled with heat and steam, making your clothes stick to your skin, the dirt and blood still caking both your bodies slick and itchy. 

You didn’t know how to tell your best friend you loved him. How you were so in love with him that it hurt, it ached. It was a push and pull on your heart that you’d felt since you were fourteen, young and too dumb to understand that the boy next door was everything you ever needed. 

So instead, you moved away from him, leaning tiredly against the wall and letting the corners of your lips lift into a smile that held just the right amounts of fight and attitude. 

Your eyes were shining and you wondered if the boy looked hard enough, that he’d find all the love that you knew was held in your gaze. 

“We’ve been making bad decisions together since 1972, Harrington. I’m not gonna stop now,” you grinned and he huffed, an almost laugh you were sure. “If you’re gonna make it a habit of throwing yourself into lakes, you better sure as hell expect me to follow.”

And that was that. 

He nodded, pointing to the towels and backing towards the door. Your heart leapt, realising he was leaving you. 

“Towels are there, just shout if you need me, yeah?” Steve caught your gaze, watching the tension in your body that had returned, the lock of your shoulders, the square of your jaw. “I’m gonna be right outside sweetheart, I’m not leaving, promise.”

If his words seemed familiar, neither of you mentioned it and the door clicked softly as it shut, leaving you alone. 

Shedding your damp, dirty clothes made you feel a little better, the material pooling at your bare feet as you stepped out of them and into the shower. The hot spray stung at your cuts, bore down on your bones and made you ache in a new way, like you were being broken down and put back together again. 

You leaned your forehead against the cool tiles, watching as the dirt and blood from your skin swirled down the drain and when you finally turned the shower off, you could hear soft voices from Steve’s room, dulled by the closed door but drawers were opening and shutting, a sure sign that the rest of your friends were freshly washed and stealing clean clothes from the boy too. 

When you opened the door, Steve’s shirt was hanging to your knees, hiding the soft cotton shorts he’d given you and the boy was sitting on the edge of his bed, face still streaked with grime and blood, the cut on his brow and lip still angry. 

“You should’ve cleaned yourself up,” you told him, frowning as you stepped into the pool of soft light that came from his bedside lamp. It lit the room up in a warm glow, a welcome change from red skies and shadows. “You must be freezing.”

“I told you I wasn’t leaving,” he shrugged, eyes searching your upper arm for your injuries, for any signs of pain or discomfort. He nodded to your shoulder, “How’s the arm?”

You shrugged back, pushing one foot into the plush carpet as you tried to avoid his heavy gaze. It made you feel too warm, like you didn’t know what to do with yourself and before you could brush him off, before you could lie and say you were fine, Steve reached out to grasp your hand, pulling you towards him. 

He steadied you in the bracket of his spread legs, his knees on either side of your thighs and he still sat tall before you, his hands making quick work of softly pulling his sleeve up until it uncovered your upper bicep. 

He tutted, eyes soft and his thumbs made gentle work of turning your arm this way and that as he inspected the wound. It was smaller now that it was clean, the filth and dried blood that had coated it making it seem worse and angrier than it was. 

It still stung, a nip and prick on your skin when the cool air hit it but Steve pressed a quick kiss to the unmarred space below, a hot push of his lips that lit your body up, skin burning, eyes wide. 

“There,” he mumbled, voice thick and if you didn’t know any better, you could’ve sworn the highs of his cheeks were turning pink. “All better.”  

And shit, maybe it was. 

You ate with the others as Steve showered, the distant sound of the running water the only thing that soothed you enough and allowed you to swallow down a slice or two of pizza, a chicken nugget that you smothered in ketchup. When Steve finally joined you all, hair clean and damp, on end from where he’d run a towel through it, he frowned at your near empty plate and slid another slice on it when you weren’t looking.  

The five of you ate in silence, crowded around the breakfast bar, barely having the strength to pull out the stools as you all picked at the food Nancy made. You were all shoulder to shoulder, dressed in Steve’s clothes, sweatpants that hung off slim hips, shirts with too short sleeves and sweaters that hung off collar bones. Everyone smelled like apple shampoo, clean like body wash and laundry detergent, but the cuts were still on everyone’s skin, red and fresh, unable to be hidden. 

And when the plates were empty, Steve batted you away from gathering them all up, planning to take them to the sink. You’d wondered if you could scrub away the blood that was still embedded under your fingernails, and fuck, you wondered who’s it was. 

But Steve caught your hand, still gentle as he led you down the hall. Robin followed you both, passing Eddie as he threw himself onto a sofa, blanket in hand and shoving cushions under his head. Nancy disappeared, searching for the phone so she could call Jonathan, her eyes heavy with sleep. 

It was easy to let Steve cajole you into the guest room and you stood tired and heavy on your own feet as the boy busied himself with pulling back the heavy duvet, launching the ridiculous amount of throw pillows to the floor. 

Robin jumped in first, a noise of content purring at the back of her throat as she slipped between the sheets, head pushed into the plush pillow and her eyes fluttering closed. 

You turned to Steve, panic settling into your chest once more at the thought of him leaving, of him walking back down the hall and up the stairs to his own room, a walk that practically took him to the other side of the house. 

You wanted to ask him if you could stay with him, if he could take you by the hand again and lead you to his bed but you didn’t feel brave anymore, and he wasn’t asking you that question either. 

You stared at him, eyes searching and beneath the strands of hair that fell across his eyes, you could see that he looked as troubled about it as you felt. 

But he nodded to Robin, already half asleep and breathing softly. “You look after each other, yeah?” He tapped at your hand with his own, squeezing it briefly, a flash of warmth and comfort before he stepped back into the open door frame. “Come get me if you need anything, okay?”

You wanted to tell him to wait, to stop, to come back. You wanted to tell Steve that you needed him. But you were sure that if you parted your lips to speak, you’d only release the tears that were making your throat tight, your eyes sting. 

You felt too small, too fragile and you were desperate to say something, anything. Steve was looking at you as if he was hoping for the same, like he could burst with all the unsaid things that buzzed and fizzed in the air between you. 

But he wasn’t feeling all that brave either. Not right now. 

So you smiled, watery and nodded, moving backwards until your knees hit the edge of the bed and Robin grumbled, reminding you both of her presence. 

“Night Harrington,” you whispered, throat tight, eyes glassy. 

You watched his neck bob and move as he swallowed, eyes holding just as much emotion as your own. He nodded too, willingly himself to back away from the door. 

“Night, sweetheart.”

———————

You tossed and turned for what seemed an age, Robin plastered up against your side and providing you with warmth and the soft sounds of snuffled breathing, her head pressed between her pillow and your shoulder. You wondered how she could sleep after the events that took place merely hours before, how the scrape across her cheek wasn’t stinging against the cotton. 

There wasn’t a clock in the room to tell you the time but the sky outside was still dark, then night unmoving and still despite all the things you knew that roamed under the earth, in the depths of lakes and between shadows. 

You were buzzing, an electric current that flowed through your body, keeping you awake and on edge. You wondered if it was residual adrenaline, maybe the looming threat of nightmares that promised to take you when you eventually closed your eyes. 

Maybe it was just Steve, only a few rooms away. 

The thought spurred you into action and with as much care as you could, you pulled away from Robin, smiling slightly when she mumbled her protests, still very much asleep. You pulled the duvet back over her as you slipped from the bed, toes pushed into the soft carpet and it softened your steps and as you headed for the door, leaving the room.

You could hear Eddie snoring from the couch, head tipped back and hair dripping messily over the arm, his lips parted, brow creased. You wondered how he’d coped with everything that had happened, how he’d managed to sleep so deeply so soon. He didn’t stir when you walked past, feet finding the stairs even in the dark, so very used to the house's layout after years of sneaking in and sneaking out. 

You stood outside Steve’s room for what seemed like too long, the minutes stretching in, the night barely moving around you. You had raised your hand to knock several times, chickening out everytime, just before your knuckles met the wood. You felt like your heart was in your throat, too hot and too much. 

You lifted your arm for the sixth time, chest hammering, stomach fluttering and before you could press your knuckles to the door, it opened, leaving you knocking on air before your gaze met Steve’s. 

You stilled, lips parted. 

The boy was shirtless, sleep mussed despite his eyes being bright and wide. He looked like he’d slept as much as you, hair misbehaving from where he’d dragged it across his pillows, seeking a comfortable spot that he could never find. His sweatpants hung low on his hips and there were some dinosaur themed plasters stuck haphazardly across his ribs, hiding cuts you never got a chance to care for. 

No one spoke. 

But you lowered your arm, wondering what you should say, wondering what he was still doing awake. Steve was looking at you like you were a dream, surprised and dazed, and he parted his lips to speak, stopping short when he realised he didn’t know what to say either.  

Briefly, you considered asking him if he was okay, but you knew the answer, could read it in the way he looked at you, the way he held himself. You thought about telling him you didn’t mean to wake him, that you were sorry and were going back to bed, but there was something in his gaze that had you rooted to the spot, chest warm, breath coming in harsh pants. 

The idea of telling him, your best friend, that you were in love with him, flickered through your mind and the mere thought of it made your tummy roll and dip. You shuffled from foot to foot, wondering if there was another way, if Steve could make it easy for you and read your mind instead. 

He whispered your name, a soft noise that sounded like a prayer, a question, a promise all at once. It had your eyes flying to his, gazes locked and something passed between you both, a silent answer, an understanding, a ‘oh, thank god.’

You moved at the same time, you think. A push and pull of two bodies, meeting in the middle, as natural as the tide. He found your hand between you both, grasping in the dark and he tugged you to him as you surged forward, a clash in his door frame, a heavy sigh, a blissed out swear. 

Your lips found his easily, his own searching for yours as one of his hands tucked itself across your jaw, fingers splayed messy across your cheekbone, his thumb pulling impatiently at your bottom lip, asking for you to give him more. 

You obliged immediately, the kiss deep and slow and languid. It filled your body with heat, it made your toes curl, it made you push yourself further into the boy until your grip on each other left crescent shaped moons on the other's skin, nails raking through hair, fingers pulling at clothes. 

You sighed into him, relief and wonder and Steve swallowed your sounds, groaning at your noises, at the way you were pulling him down to you, desperate for more, for everything, for all of it. 

For him. 

You barely registered moving, his hands cupping each side of your jaw as you stumbled together, chests meeting, feet clumsy as you moved into his room, Steve’s hand only leaving you to push the door shut before pressing you against it. 

You weren’t sure if it was the underlying threat of danger, of losing each other all night or simply the decade of growing up together, tension building, bodies blooming, curious stares that turned into lingering gazes over new milestones and hot Indiana summers. 

You weren’t sure why it felt the way it did, Steve’s lips on yours, his tongue licking into your mouth, his hands heavy and wandering, pulling up the hem of the shirt that he gave you palms seeking out smooth, bare skin. You had never had a chance to thread your fingers through his hair so roughly, tugging with confidence, as if you already knew he liked it. 

He did. 

You weren’t sure why it felt so familiar, so natural, like it was some cosmic event that was just waiting to happen, a comet waiting to fall, a star waiting to burst. 

His kiss felt like magic, like kismet, like home. 

Steve Harrington was mint chocolate chip ice cream, the smell of sunscreen and old arcades, cherry slurpees and Coca Cola, sleepovers on bedroom floors, bike rides without training wheels, first trips to the beach, old cassettes passed between classes, notes in your locker, smiley faces inked into the palm of your hand during lunch. 

He was a first crush, last love, favourite kiss, first good morning, last goodnight, twirling your fingers around the phone cord, late night chats, and sneaking through your window.  

He was picking you up. Breath heavy and chest heaving as you wrapped your legs around him, both oblivious to the aches and pains the press of your bodies brought you both. It all felt too good, too fucking good to let go of. You pressed closer, his hands under your ass, fingers digging into your flesh and your back was against the door, pushing your moans and sighs into each other's lips. 

It was too easy to fall into him, a lifetime of trust there as he smoothed a hand over your bare thigh, snuck his fingers under the hem of your shirt and swore at the discovery of more bare skin underneath, tracing the dips and curves of your body. 

The kiss slowed and stuttered, stopping as Steve pulled back just a fraction, just enough for his nose to graze against yours and he found your gaze, both of your eyes hooded and heavy, watching each other through your lashes. You were panting, chests pressed together and heaving, puffs of hot air brushing across the others lips. 

You thumbed at his cheek, an affection press of your fingers against his face and he turned, pushing a kiss into your palm that you wished you could peel away and keep forever. 

His eyes were still on you, searching for an answer, a question, maybe even regret. He didn’t find any of the latter and when he whispered your name, voice wrecked, you nodded, giving him everything he wanted to ask. 

You moved when Steve did, carrying you easily from your perch against the door and across his dark room, the only light coming from the split in the curtains, the open window letting in the summer air, still heavy in the night and the glow from the moon. 

He kicked a shoe out of the way, lips finding yours again as his knees hit the bed, bringing you both down until he pressed you into the mattress, sheets tangled and smelling of him. Steve moved over you, knee between your legs, hitched up into the apex of your thighs and you gasped at the friction, the solid weight of it pressed against you. 

His arms caged you in, his hands braced on either side of your head as he kept too much of his weight off of you, scared to go too fast too soon. But you let out a soft sound, a whine, a plea; and you reached for him, hand at the back of his neck as you dragged him back down to you, kiss messy and desperate. 

You felt like you were going to float away, like you’d open your eyes and you’d still be sitting in the barren landscape of another world, Steve in a chokehold and monsters clawing you apart. 

But Steve sighed, soft and pleading, your fingers diving into the hair at the nape of his neck and as you silently told him, more, harder, more, please. 

He took the hint, hands roaming, kisses turning heated, with more pressure and bite and the tears of build up burst for you both, an outpouring of crushes and tension, jealousy and what ifs, experiencing lust and falling in love. 

His hands found your sides, fingertips walking up the steps of your ribs before smoothing across your bare skin, nothing under his shirt. He grazed a thumb over your nipple, both of you groaning at the feel of it, a new shock of pleasure for you to share together. 

The boy pulled back, forehead against yours and eyes squeezed shut as if he was in pain, as if it was all too much. He spoke against your mouth, words rushing across the part in your lips and each syllable felt like another kiss. 

“Sweetheart, you gotta tell me if you wanna stop,” he was whispering, voice low and rushed, “I don’t wanna fuck this up, don’t wanna go too fast…”

You shook your head, back arching to press yourself along the length of him, hard against your bare thigh, Steve’s shorts rucked up to the highest point of your leg. 

“No, no,” you were panting, voice a high and a little desperate and you would’ve been embarrassed if he wasn’t looking at you like you were the entire fucking world. “Steve, please, please don’t stop.”

His lips came back down on yours at that, greedy and pushy, urging you to open for him and you did, easily, keening into him, legs spreading so he could fall into the cradle of your thighs. His hand still stroked over your skin, underneath the shirt, thumb circling over your breast, running down your side, lifting at the hem of your shorts. 

You felt dizzy. 

“Take it off,” you mumbled, your request mixed in with kisses, lips, teeth and tongue, but the boy got the hint, swearing as he pressed his mouth into your neck and leaned back enough to pull your top off of you. 

His lips parted at the sight, another sigh leaving him, eyes hooded and dark as he took you in. You gave him no time for recovery, wiggling prettily against his sheets and his body as you shuffled out of the shorts, dragging the material down your leg and kicking them away. 

Steve rocked back onto his knees, jaw slack, hair mussed from your hands and lips rosy from yours. He whispered your name, took his hand and dragged it from your knee to your thigh, gripping at the curves there, staring at how you put yourself on show for him. 

“Can I touch you?“ he asked, voice reverent, breaking halfway through his question, like he could barely keep himself together. 

You nodded, teeth biting into your bottom lip, body tensed in anticipation. 

“Words, sweetheart,” Steve reminded you, “c’mon.”

You gasped at the sensation of his fingers curling into your inner thigh, lifting your leg over his so he could prop you up and spread you out, eyes hungry and disbelieving. 

He felt like he was going insane. 

“Jesus, yes, Steve,” you groaned, a little impatient, your hands pulling at his, pushing them across the small curve of your tummy, down to where you were desperate. 

He fell apart when his fingers swept through you, cursing at how wet you were, telling you how soft you felt. He thumbed at your clit, quickly leaning down and pressing his lips back to yours when you keened loudly, your appreciation ringing out across the house. 

Steve kissed away the noise, soothed you down from your frantic reaction and he dipped a finger into you, groaning against you as he slipped one inside, a second joining quickly. 

You were overwhelmed, hands grabbing at his hair as he pressed open mouthed kisses to your jawline, smoothing his lips over your neck, sucking a bruise there, biting at the skin before running his tongue over the marks he made. 

You were pushing at the waistband of his sweatpants, grinding down against his hand, his fingers moving a little faster as they brought you to the edge, far too quickly. 

“Easy, easy,” he soothed, voice hushed, eyes lit up at how you responded to him, “I got you babe, c’mon.”

But you shook your head, hands desperate as they dove beneath the cotton of his trousers, finding him hard and heavy for you, Steve swearing profusely as you pumped him once, twice, in your hand. 

“Not yet,” you told him, voice shaking, eyes glassy, “want you.”

You heard his breath stutter, his fingers slipping from you, only to glide over your clit again, pressure building at each stroke. You whimpered, grip tightening around him and thumb swiping at his head. 

He looked like he was unravelling. 

“You gotta stop, I’m not gonna last long,” Steve murmured, voice gone, rough and hoarse. He licked his lips, looking down at you as he ran his hands up your body, gripping you at the waist and pulling you into him. “Not with you, not when you look like that.”

But you were desperate, needing to feel him, over you, on you, in you. Maybe it was the way you were looking at him, bottom lip jutted, eyes glassy, skin still marked up from your cuts and his teeth. Maybe it was when you pulled him down into you, lips at his ear telling him, “I’m already close too.”

He gave into you. You made it easy. 

His sweatpants hit his bedroom floor, a soft thud against the drawers of his dresser, neither of you looking to see where they landed. His lips were on you again, body flush, skin warm and Steve was mouthing at your jaw, your neck as you tilted your head back, giving him everything he wanted. 

You brought your knees up to his sides, caging him and he crowded into you, one forearm on the pillow by your head, holding himself over you as the other smoothed over your cheek, into your hair and you communicated through soft gazes and parted lips, a tilt of your head, a hand on his chest, as he pushed into you.

It took everything you had not to moan too loud, biting down on the muscles of Steve’s shoulder instead, the boy sighing, muscles taught, staying still. He gave you both a minute, his hand dropping to your waist, the curve of your ass before lighting up your skin, trailing fire down your thigh and hooking his fingers underneath your knee. He hitched your leg to his side, thigh pulled high as he opened you for him, the slick slid of both of you making it easier to move. 

Steve set a slow pace, agonising as it was amazing, both of you blissed out and lips parted, the summer air painting a sheen over your skin, stray hairs stuck to flushed cheeks, eyes heavy and hooded.  He moved over you like he’d done it before, head bent, lips brushing almost lazy against your own, as if kissing you was already second nature, as if he should’ve been doing this all along. 

You bit back a sound, a tight huff that made Steve snap his hips, making both of you stutter and swear. You could tell the boy was growing impatient, tightly wound and ready to snap but he was holding back, holding on, waiting for you. 

Pushing yourself up, you grabbed at him, hands slick on his skin as you gripped his shoulders and he got the hint, lips curling into a smile that made your heart thump and he grabbed at your ass, rocking back onto his knees until you were seated on top of him.

He took the chance to push your hair back from your face, kiss you slow and deep, hands squeezing at your ass, sliding over the small of your back as he held you to him and you couldn’t help it anymore, couldn’t wait, couldn’t stop. Not when he felt so deep, so good.

You rolled your hips, gasping when the movement caught him off guard, made him bite down on your bottom lip. He hissed, eyes wide as he looked down between your bodies, watching your hips move over him, rocking, grinding and taking him in over and over again.

“Jesus christ,” he whispered and he sounded fervent, voice swallowed by the whimpers and moans that fell from your mouth. “Fuck, you’re too pretty, too much,” he puncuated each word with a press of his lips, pushing kisses to your cheeks, you jaw, your neck and shoulders. “You close?” Steve asked, mouth agape as you started to move quicker, hips stuttering with impatience and greed and you almost sobbed when he clutched at your tighter, one arm around your waist as he helped you move, leaning you back as he thrust into you, his other hand dropping between you, thumb rubbing tight circles over you. 

You hummed, nodding frantically, hands grasping at his broad shoulders, his neck, crying out as you tightened around him and Steve swore, head tilted back and eyes clenched shut at the sensation. He gathered you to him, arms wrapped around you and he let you both fall back into the mess of sheets and pillows, hand out to catch you both as he moved another once, twice, three times, into you, hips stuttering, all rhythm lost. 

He fell when you did, eyes shut, stars blinking behind lids, the world warm and hazy. You clutched at each other, hand petting and soothing over damp skin and smoothing back hair, mouths panting out hot air into the crook of the other’s neck. You pressed kisses to his jaw, stubble rasping over your cheeks in a way that you decided you loved, skin flushed and sticky.

It took a second or two, before Steve realised you were both shaking, limbs liquid, voices gone. Carefully, as not to hurt you, he pulled back, slipping out from between your legs and you exhaled at the loss, hands reaching out to him in the dark and he found your fingers, twisting them between your own as he fell onto the bed beside you, chest still heaving. 

You wondered when it would feel awkward, if at all. If the inevitable moment of regret would hit, a common feeling after having sex with your best friend, you were sure. But it never came, the moment stayed warm, familiar, safe. Steve turned to you, slipping the sheets over both of you, pressing a kiss to your palm and pulling you into the heat of his chest. 

You fit just under his chin, the perfect height to place your lips on his collar bone, dropping kisses along the line of it, legs tangled.

“I feel like this is normally the part when one of us says we’ll need to talk about this, y’know?” Steve murmured, his lips pressed to the crown of your head. His thumb soothed over your ribs, dancing across your skin in a way that made you feel heavy, melting into him. “But I get the feeling that you might feel the same way I do.”

The boy’s voice cracked a little at that, and he cleared his throat, ducking his head into you as if he was scared to see your reaction, as if you were ever going to tell him he’d got the wrong idea. 

You hummed, a soft noise of agreement and you pulled back a little in his arms, just enough where you could nudge at his nose with your own, silently asking him to meet your gaze. You found his eyes, brown and warm like honey, but looking so conflicted, so unsure.

You brushed your nose against his again, once, twice, soft, slow. 

“Would it help if I said it first?” You asked quietly. 

Steve didn’t reply but you felt him hold his breath, his chest still and tight against yours, both of you still bare, warmed by the other, slick from sex. You continued despite his silence, knowing the boy well enough by now that despite the bravado and confidence he had throughout high school, he was fucking terrifed of what could possibly be rejection.

You saw him swallow hard, adam’s apple bobbing and if you didn’t know the boy any better you might have laughed. ‘Cause you were naked and in his arms, your bare chest pressed against his, his leg wedged between your naked thighs and you’d jumped off a boat for him earlier, swam to another dimension to save his life.

But it was Steve, the boy whose family left him alone, the boy who looked after everyone before himself. So you shifted from his arms, catching the way his eyes widened in panic, as if you were going to get dressed and hightail it out of his bedroom window. 

You soothed him, hand stroking over his cheek and you smiled when he realised your intentions, crawling over his body and settling yourself onto his lap again. Your thighs spread themselves over his, leaning down and into him as he propped himself against the messy pile of pillows at his headboard. 

His palms smoothed over your thighs, a solid and warm weight that gave you more comfort than he knew, making you feel a little braver as you crowded into him, hands pushing back his wild hair, nose bumping against his.

You cradled his face, hands on the strong line of his jaw, tilting his head for him as you brought your lips back to his, a soft press of your lips that turned into a demanding kiss,  a little force and heat behind it as you wished and prayed for him to feel the way you did for him. You left him breathless, a mess underneath you, hands gripping your legs, lips parted, eyes wide.

You smiled.

“Hey, Harrington?” You whispered, lips brushing over his in an almost kiss that he tried to chase. He hummed at you, answering without words. “I’ve never felt this way before and I’m terrified, to be honest.”

It felt a lot like saying I love you, and Steve must’ve understood cause he gaped at you, brown eyes shining in the dark and he brought his arms around you, pulling you down and into him in a hug that engulfed you.

He spoke into your hair, eyes closed and the dark of the night making him feel brave. “Fuck, yeah, same.” He cleared his throat, voice thick, “Yeah, I know what you mean.”

“I don’t wanna lose you,” you started, voice quiet and small and the boy was quick to bring your face to his, eyes serious when he interrupted.

“You won’t,” he choked out, “shit, sweetheart, you could never.”

“Yeah?” You sniffed, eyes glassy and god, you were overwhelmed. By the night, by Steve, by his lips, his bed, his body against yours. “Promise?”

“Promise.”

———————

No one said anything the next morning. 

Not Robin when she woke up in the guest room alone, your pillow cold. Not Nancy when she passed you both leaving Steve’s room as she left the bathroom, his shirt swallowing your frame, your shorts on his bedroom floor. 

She had smiled at you both, knowing, looking at your sleep mussed hair, soft smiles and marked up neck, Steve’s hand on the small of your back as he led you downstairs. Eddie followed your joined hands from where he was still sprawled across the couch, chest bare, rings glinting in the morning light. He grinned, laughing quietly when he caught Robin’s eye behind you both, shrugging when she shushed him. 

It felt like a new day, a fresh start, a second chance. 

The idea of defeating whatever this monster was, working out what it was that he wanted with you all, keeping the kids safe, helping your friends. It all felt a little less impossible than the day before. Your arm still stung, a dull ache that reminded you of the fights that had already been lost, but Steve was pressed against your back as you cracked some eggs into a pan, a breakfast for all of you, his arms around your waist and his chin resting on top of your head.

He pressed a kiss there and you decided that he made it feel a whole lot easier than it should. 

Sebastian Stan as Mickey Henry

MONDAY 2021 | dir. Argyris Papadimitropoulos

HEY DO YALL SEE THE ZAYN ALBUM RIGHT BELOW IT?? ICARUS FALLS OMG

Luke on IG Story

Bucky’s Vibranium Arm/Hand - The Falcon and the Winter Soldier

CHAIN GOD DAMMIT

a list of numbers that don’t define you:

your height

your weight

your age

your bra size

your body count

how old you are when you got your first _________

how old you were when you first experienced _________

what percentage you made on your last test

what percentage you ended up having in a class

how many likes your posts get

how many followers you have

what size you wear in anything: dresses, pants, shirts, socks, skirts, etc

how many calories you ate today

pretty much any number ever

you are not defined by a number. don’t let them have power over you. they are not who you are. they do not make you any better or any worse as a person. you are far too complex and wonderful for something like that to determine your worth, ability, beauty, etcetera.

#tag yourself i’m ned

holy shit y'all tysm ✋🏽😭

goodbye

WTF GUYS????

Harry possibly shooting a music video in London today - 12/02 

FLORENCE PUGH J.Crew Spring 2022 Collection

Sebastian Stan photographed by Adam Fussel for Hugo Boss Spring/Summer 2018 Collection

Coffee Shop

a/n: My first one-shot on here!! I'm excited for this :)) Please do give any feedback, it would be much appreciated! I love to read y'alls thoughts. Also remember yall, the reblog button is right next to the like! Not proof read, all mistakes are mine. Requests are open!! Love you guys 🥰

Pairing: Coffee Shop!Harry x Y/N (oh and Niall makes an appearance)

Warnings: fluff- just two idiots in love, drinking, tiny bit of swearing (Italics mark as flashbacks)

Summary: Harry works at the coffee shop, and Y/N's a regular customer.

Word Count: a little over 2.4k

“Iced Americano for Lydia!”

The coffee shop was bustling with energy- there was always a person occupying every single seat, and the noises of the coffee machines and staff always added to the liveliness of this shop. The dings of the door opening and closing indicated a new person entering, and the orders being taken place were just another ingredient to the mix.

Deja Brew, as they had named it, was the busiest and most known coffee shop within the city. People would come in here for the morning runs before work, they would simply sit at a table while typing away at their computer, or they would be here with friends. Everyone loved this tiny area- all the things about it screamed home.

What Harry loved most about it, however, was one specific customer- mocha and blueberry muffin girl. He had developed a little crush only a while ago… but he had been seeing her ever since he had started working here.

“Hey, how may I help you?” Another one of his coworkers took her order. Aiden was in the back during his break time. He was looking down at her phone as he had nothing better to do.

“Hi! I’d like a mocha and a blueberry muffin please,” she said. Harry looked up to see the most beautiful person he had ever seen to date. She already had her card out and was ready to pay.

“Will that be all?” She smiled up at his coworker, the small wrinkles by the side of her light brown eyes showing.

“Yes, please.”

He thought he would never see her again. He thought he would get over that “love at first sight”. What he didn't know was she was a regular. Ever since then, he observed that she always ordered the same thing off the menu. Every. Single. Day.

Only a few days after taking her order, Harry had gotten her mocha and blueberry muffin ready before she came into the shop. He wanted her to pay and leave so she wouldn't have to wait to continue her day. All of this but he didn't even know her name.

People had crushes on others without knowing their names, right? He wasn't crazy, right?

It did bother Harry a little bit, but that was okay. He got to see her everyday, and that was enough. And it wasn't like she was ever going to notice him anyways.

He was broken from his daydream when his coworker, Niall tapped Harry on his shoulder.

“Wondering when your lover will walk through the door?” Niall teased him.

“Oh for fuck's sake, Niall. She's not my ‘lover’,” Harry sighed and checked his watch for the fifth time. ‘She should be here any moment’, he thought. He had her order packed fresh and ready.

“Haha, biggest joke of the year. I’ve seen the way you admire her. If you aren't gonna make a move, I might just make one,” Niall rolled his eyes. Harry could tell Niall was only joking. He wouldn't do that to his friend… hopefully not.

“Hey,” Harry dragged out. “Don't you dare.” Just like any other day, she walked into the shop at the same time as before. He quickly shooed Niall away as he laughed, and Harry grabbed the blueberry muffin and mocha and made his way to her. This would be the day he would finally give her the order.

“Hi, blueberry muffin and mocha?” Harry asked her even though he already knew the answer. She looked as pretty as ever, and his crush was only growing.

“Oh, yes,” her voice was sweet and light. That made Harry wonder even more what she would be like if he got to know her.

“Your name?” he asked. To be honest, he didn't even need her name. Her order was sitting on the side counter. All he had to do was pick it up and hand it to her. But he wanted to know for the sake of not feeling weird of having a middle school crush on her and not knowing her name.

“Y/N,” she said while digging something out from her purse. Y/N. A name as soft and beautiful as the person shown outside. He found himself staring at her, and as soon as she looked up, they locked eyes. Now it felt like eternity for Harry, but it was only a few seconds that they held their stare. Y/N broke it by offering him a smile, only for him to swoon all over it mentally.

“Alright, your total will be $6.30.” She quickly paid, said thanks, and left. A short conversation but a worthy one nonetheless. He finally got to know her name after two weeks of crushing on her. Niall came up to Harry and stood behind him, trying to find where Harry was staring off to.

“Oh lord. Now what happened?” Niall asked.

“Y/N,” Harry breathed out. “That's her name.”

“Oh wow, you know her name now. Good for you,” Niall said. Harry just rolled his eyes and continued to work, with Y/N in his mind for the rest of the day.

It had been a few weeks since Y/N had told Harry her name… and their “relationship” had gotten better. When she came into the shop everyday, she always waved to him on her way in or out.

And he smiled and waved back.

In those few weeks, that crush had developed into something more, since he got to see her everyday. He wanted to be able to hang out with her, take her on dates, and just talk to her about life. But he didn't want her to think that he was creepy or a stalker- definitely not a stalker.

It was around 7 in the evening, and Y/N was seated in a dimly lit corner booth with someone. ‘Why was she here so late?’ he thought. The guy she was with was wearing a white knit sweater and glasses, and his black hair was styled in a quiff. He was talking to Y/N but she was looking around the shop. The guy was quite engrossed in his story- Harry could tell by the way he was moving his hands… he was also the only person talking.

Y/N was sipping her coffee and nodding her head every once in a while, but Harry could tell she wasn't really paying attention. She set her coffee down on the table and fiddled with her rings. Meanwhile, the guy moved closer to her while she moved farther away. She was already at the very edge of the seat.

Suddenly the guy's phone rang. He walked out of the booth, immediately picked up the phone, and started talking.

“Yes, mum. I’ll be there,” he replied to the phone. He quickly said something to her and walked through the door of the shop. Y/N sighed and made her way to the counter to pay for whatever the guy and she ordered.

“You ok?” Harry asked. She looked tired and ready to go home. “Looks like he just walked out on you.”

“Oh yeah, he's a treat,” she said sarcastically. “Apparently his mother called him. Good thing he left because I couldn't stand a minute more of him. ” Both of them shared a laugh, but then Harry asked the question that was on his mind the entire night.

“So is he your…” He didn't want to finish that so he wouldn't be assuming anything. The last thing he wanted to do was offend Y/N.

“Oh no, he was just a guy I met off of an online dating site. Not really sure how I matched up with him though, all he talked about was the movie series that he's obsessed with.”

“Sounds pretty boring to me. ”

“Trust me, that's an understatement. Even if I were to get with him… I’d just rather not.”

“So then? Who would you like?” Harry wondered. He’d wanted to know for a long time. He was hoping for something along the lines of him, but he knew that was a long shot. He always kept hoping for something that was out of reach for him. He had a tendency to do that.

“I don't know, maybe someone nice and simple? I want our relationship to be a two way street, and not like how this so-called ‘date’ went. Again, I’m not really sure how I got set up with him,” she rolled her eyes. Harry noticed how she also used her hands while talking to express herself.

“I can imagine. Once I got matched with someone and when we were out, she had this guy on her arm the entire time. They even started making out in front of me while we were having coffee,” Harry shuddered at the memory. That’s one reason why he will never go on Tinder dates again.

“Oh my god,” she laughed. He could never get tired of that laugh. “That must've been so awkward. Third-wheeling the entire time.”

“Oh, yeah. I’m pretty sure that was her ex and got back with him.”

Y/N gasped at the fact, “Seriously?” Harry nodded his head while she raised her eyebrows and shook her head. “Oh wow. People are so extraordinary.”

Y/N was a living example of that. Harry could listen to her all the time and still kiss the ground she walked on. Only having known her for not a long time, he couldn't wait to get to know more about her.

Changing the topic of dating, she asked, “Wanna go somewhere to drink? It’s a Friday.” She looked at him with hopeful eyes, and he knew that she wanted a distraction from her shitty night. Drinking isn’t all that fun alone. So he had no other option to agree. He had no right to decline an offer from Y/N herself.

It was around midnight, and the two of them had had one too many glasses of alcohol to drink. They were sitting in a booth in the corner of a random bar they found down the street, and the music playing on the T.V. added a livelihood to the place. They had done a couple shots. Then some lighter drinks to continue the night. Neither of them wanted this night to end.

Y/N was sipping on her pink drink that Harry didn't know the name of, and he himself settled for a beer. They were both all giggly, and the cuddly side of Y/N came out halfway through the night. Her head rested on his shoulder, and his head was on her head. She had completely let go and Harry was glad to see her like this, dating and work definitely was a hassle. He knew from experience.

Y/N had told Harry a lot of stuff about her life, from her childhood embarrassments to her graduating.

“I was jumping on the bouncy house, when my mouth got stuck on the side net. My tooth fell out! I couldn't find it, so all the people around the bouncy house started looking for it with me.”

Harry, on the contrary, had let her speak. Sure, he pitched in with a few of his stories from time to time, but he wanted her to enjoy it. He also wanted to hear her voice more.

He watched her fingers as they fiddled with her rings and how she gasped in between her stories when she remembered another. Call him smitten, but it was something Harry enjoyed and found comfort in. Had he mentioned that he could do this all day?

Suddenly Y/N sat up with attention and sat her drink down on the table. She turned her body to face him and started, “You know why I come into your coffee shop everyday?” She didn't even let him answer. “It’s to see someone… and do you know who that is? It's you! It was my first time coming into the shop when I first saw you. But then I knew that I had to see you more,” she said.

Harry was too stunned to speak. She came everyday to see him? She was spilling secrets that Harry wasn't sure she was aware of. Although, she wasn’t drunk, but also not not tipsy.

She grabbed his face in her hands and squeezed his cheeks together. “You’re so cute, Harry. Your eyes are to die for.”

“Oh- thank you. You aren't so bad yourself, Y/N.”

“So tell me… are you dating anyone? Any girlfriend? Boyfriend?” She lets her hands drop from his cheeks and back to her side.

“Not yet. But I mean, the spot’s always open if you ever wanna fill it in.” She let out a loud giggle and responded back almost immediately.

“I’ll sleep on it, get back to you tomorrow morning.” Her smile was brighter than the shining moon, and her cheeks were strawberry red. It was a sight to behold. He took out his phone and open the camera. He took a quick picture.

“What was that for?” Y/N asked.

“Just a photo to remember the beautiful person in front of me.”

“Oh please, Harry. You’re too much,” she said. She stood up and dragged them both in front of their booth.

“Dance with me,” she whispered to him.

She put her hand on his shoulders, and his on her waist. They slowly swayed in their spots to the soft music in the background, and they held eye contact for some time.

The pink neon light from the window sign was lighting up Y/N’s face, and that made her look even more adorable.

How was it possible for someone to be this gorgeous?

Y/N leaned in to rest her forehead on Harry’s and their noses softly rubbed against each other. Her lopsided smile was still quite big, and Harry had the same on his face.

It felt like eternity to him when they leaned in, and neither of them knew who did it first. Her lips were placed onto his in a matter of seconds. It was a soft and cute kiss, but it was enough for Harry. Her lips felt like heaven.

They pulled away and Y/N giggled. Harry stole another kiss, and then gave a tiny peck to her nose.

“I don’t think I’ll ever get tired of kissing you, darling.”

She ducked her face into his neck, where she placed another light kiss.

“Take me home, Harry. You can kiss me all you want there.”

Sebastian Stan photographed by Miller Mobley for EW (2014)

softrry ❤️

Is the sun bothering you, king?

He looks so good???

Making Fine Line

Harry accepts his award for Major Tour of the Year at the Pollstar awards via shirleyhalperin