"You've Bewitched Me"
Prompt - NRC is in upheaval. A video of Yuu singing a song has been circling around the school about her being "bewitched," and everyone is trying to figure out by who. Yuu is embarrassed and upset about her private song being the subject of gossip, so she decides to hide from everyone only for her crush to find her and reveal he has been "bewitched," by her...
Pairings - NRC Students x F!reader
Warnings - Gossip, Incredibly Shy Reader with Stage Fright, Depictions of Anxiety, Not Beta Read
Song - "Bewitched" by Laufey
Prologue (Here) - Heartsyble - Savannaclaw - Octavinelle - Scarabia - Pomefiore - Ignanhyde - Diasmonia
When @/thegreatestmagealive uploaded a video of the Ramshackle Perfect singing a love song, to say NRC nearly blew up would be an understatement.
The song, the poster titled “Bewitched,” became an instant hit across campus, but also became the source of tension as everyone was asking the same question: Who bewitched the Ramshackle Perfect?
“20 Thumbmarks on Leona!”
“15 on Kalim!”
“Kalim? Really, no it has to be Vil!”
“30 DOLLARS ON LORD MALLEUS!”
“EVERYONE HUSH! Now Francis, how much on Vil?” The Halls of NRC were filled with gossip on who the song was about. There were multiple pots floating around of people betting on who it was about, and just as many heated discussions.
“Who says it’s a housewarden? She spends most of her time with the Freshies so it has to be one of them! My money is on the Red Head on the Basketball team, he is always hanging on her!” A Scarabia student chimed in at this corner table of the Cafateria.
“Ace? He’s an ass, no it has to be Spade! Anytime someone makes a comment about he at practice, he gets all defensive.” A Heartstyble student on the track team chimed in.
“That runt? Na, he has nothing on Jack.” The Savannaclaw student across from them chimed in.
“The Wolf? He barely says any words! Besides, the Perfect has more class than that, it has to be Epel!” A Pomefoire Student retorted getting glares from the Savannaclaw student.
“All of you are wrong, I ran the data,” The Ignanhyde student pulled out his tablet and showed them a chart, “Out of all the possibilities crossed referenced with the lyrics of the song, it has to be-“
Debates across the school were happening as people discussed who she was singing for. While some advocated for others, others advocated for themselves.
That night, in the midst of the debates, a poor Grim was looking for a place to stay the night. So he went first to Heartstyble.
Grim walked through the portal and saw *chaos*.
“CAULDRON!”
“DEUCE WHAT THE HELL!”
“Calm down you two! No one is going anywhere till Riddle gets back!”
Trey helped Ace out from under the cauldron while Cater tried to calm down Deuce who was red as roses. “Yuu’s private song was just released and all you can think about it YOURSELF!” Deuce called out to Ace as he attempted to wesal himself out of Cater’s grip.
Ace dusted himself off as Trey helped him up, “Well, it is pretty obvious! Who else could it be about? You Loosey Duece? Or maybe Mr. Magicam? Chef Dad? Or maybe, our esteemed leader? No. It has to be me, so I am going to go check on her-“
Deuce tackled Ace, again, so Trey and Cater had to dive in to separate the two.
It did not take long for grim to realize it might be best to come back later. So he went back through the portal to try Savannaclaw.
But his scruff was grabbed before he could step through.
“Heeeey, Sealie!!” Grim gulped as he knew that voice all too well. Floyd turned Grim around so he was facing the two most terrifying smiles in NRC. “Mind clearing something up for Jade and I? See, he thinks Shrimpy’s song is about him, but I say its bout me. And every guppy is saying a different name, so we wanted to get info from them inside fishie~”
“W-what are you talking about!” Grim said crossing his arms. He knew he was in deeeeep dodo.
“Come now Grim, you must know who she’s singing about?” Jade said with a sonically smile on his face, “Now, as Yuu’s close friends, we just want to know, who bewitched our dear friend?”
“Yeeeaaah Sealie, who?” Floyd sung melodically.
“I-I ain’t saying anything!” Grim kept his mouth shut. He had already made Yuu mad, he didn’t want to make. It any worse.
“Oh come on Sealie! Everyone has a price! What’s yours??-“
“What are you two doing?” Came the harsh voice of Vil, Grim’s savior. The housewarden meeting must have finished. Early as all seven, yes even Malleus, came into the hall of mirrors to witness poor little grim shiver in his fur.
“Heya Beta!” Floyd said and waved Grim around, “We’re just asking Sealie a question! That’s all!”
“I’m guessing it’s about Yuu?” Azul asked as he made his way over to his Eel’s. “How is the Ramshackle Perfect? We missed her at the meeting.”
“Yuu… wellllllllll….” Grim scratched his cheek and the other housewarden’s came over, all wondering the same thing, “She is kinda sorta mad at me. And kinda sorta threw me out for ‘not respecting her privacy’ which I didn’t mean to get her upset, I just wanted to show everyone she had a pretty voice and she got all mad.”
“We’ll if you need a place to stay, Octavinelle is always open to poor souls! And I am sure we can work out a pi-“
“We all know what you want Azul, just ask him now so we can clear this up!” Leona said, clearly annoyed at the Mers underhanded methods. “Whose the song about?”
“I-I don-“
“Why are we even asking this question? It is clearly me!” Vil said shaking his head.
“What makes you so sure Schoenheit?” Malleus asked, “I spend more time with the Child of Man and have more magical prowess, it is defiantly about me. I was just about to grab her the-“
“No way the songs about you Lizard!” Leona retorted, “She clearly-“
“The Song’s about Nii-Chan! I ran the-“ Ortho chimed in with Idia listening in on his screen.
“WILL YOU ALL BE QUIET!” Riddle yelled, somehow getting the attention of the others, “This is disgraceful! You are. All concerned with your own selfish needs when you should be worrying about our fellow housewarden whose privacy has been breached and is probably distraught!”
Kalim nodded and said, “Yeah, we need to go cheer her up! Besides, it was probably just a song about love, nothing else!”
Grim sighed and added, “Oh its about someone, You she hear the other songs she wrote about him-“
“About WHO!” Everyone asked.
“I DON’T KNOW!” Grim said and got the glares of everyone.
Azul sighed and said, “You just said you knew.”
“I said I knew she has a crush and wrote more songs about him. I never said I knew WHO it was.” He crossed his arms and looked at the ground, “And she threw me out before I could ask. I tried going back in but she sounded so… upset. When I asked to come back in and apologized she said she just wanted to be alone…”
The group looked dejected at this. Floyd let Grim go and sighed, “Poor Shrimpy…”
Azul looked at Jade and Floyd, “Let’s go, Lounge won’t run itself.”
As Azul left with his Eels, Leona and Kalim also branched off their dorms, “Jamil is probably wondering where I am.”
“Yeah, I gotta make sure Savannaclaw is still in one piece.”
Vil and Ortho branched off next with Vil grumbling about wrinkles and Ortho talking to Idia.
Riddle and Malleus were the last two left with Grim.
“Grim, your welcome to stay at Heartstyble. It might help keep Ace and Deuce in.” Riddle said then looked to Malleus, “The Perfect probably needs a night, but if you do check on her, please let her know I-… We are here if she needs us.”
“I will Roseheart,” Malleus nodded to his red haired companion as he and Grim walk through the Heartstyble Mirror. Malleus turns and before he can make his way to Ramshackle, Lilia is there. All he has to do is shake his head and Malleus knows what his mentor is trying to say, she needs time alone.
The next morning, the first years go to Ramshackle to walk with Yuu to breakfast as they do every morning, but when they got their, the ghost intervened and said she needs to sleep in. The three ghost refused to let any of them enter and even brought Grim’s stuff to the door.
Yuu did not show to any of her classes or reply to any text, and all of her friends quickly understood why. Yuu’s song was all everyone was talking about, more specifically, who it was about. All the pots from the nights before had tripled and almost every students had a guess on who it was about. Yuu has never felt more embarrassed.
By the time night rolled around again, Yuu had read every text, post, and comment about her song. People were making guesses and demanding she confess who. In the midst of the chaos and rumors, all she could think about was what her crush was thinking. She had liked him as more than a friend for a while now, but had no clue if he returned the sentiment. All the worse possibilities were running through her head.. ‘He probably thinks I’m some obsessed freak, this is so embarrassing, Grim ruined. everything, there is no coming back from this. our friendship is ruined, I can never show my face at school again…” Thoughts like this combined with her stage fright made her mood worse. She wrote songs and sang them to help her work through things, it was incredibly personal for her and she never intended to share any of them, not yet at least. Now she was lying in her bed, curled up in her blankets with her phone lighting up with text next to her. She could not bring herself to talk to anyone, she was too scared and embarrassed to.
The Ghost have been kind enough to fend off Grim (who she was still mad at) and her friends (who she was still too embarrassed to see) so she could have some time alone. They worked as her guards and caretakers, making her eat and get up every now and then. They were also the only ones who knew who her songs were about.
So when he arrived on her doorstep, the ghost decided to let him in.
Yuu was looking at her notebook, pouring over the lyrics again and again when a knock came at her bedroom door.
“Yuu… can I come in?” His voice carried through the door.
Yuu felt her heart stop. She held her notebook tightly and sighed, “I guess its now or never…”
She got up from her bed, notebook in hand, and stood in front of the door. She was shaking and as she stared at the door, terrified of what would happen next, when he cast a spell over her once again:
“Yuu, I… I don’t. know if that song was about me but I want you to know. You’ve bewitched me too.”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Note: This is the Prolouge to a small series! Be on the look out for each characters part and if you want tagged please let me know! Please Like, Reblog, and Follow for more! If you are interested in seeing more characters in this scenario or these characters in different scenarios, please let me know! (Do not Steal)
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Steve being the one who is actually a fountain of queer knowledge because he has a gay uncle in San Francisco or New York, one of the cities that had the biggest queer communities.
Robin not having much information because she's a closeted teenage lesbian who can't drive, so she has nowhere to source that information without raising the suspicions of her parents.
Eddie doesn't have the chance because he can't afford to spend weekends in Indianapolis or Chicago, because weekends mean parties, and parties are one of the best times to deal. He might go occasionally, but just hitting up a bar to find a dude to hook up with, not getting into queer theory because he doesn't really care to. He doesn't bother to learn about hanky code or anything else, because he's not interested. All he's interested in is getting a little action.
But Steve? He spent a lot of time with his uncle, Hank, while growing up. Anytime his family was in the area, they would stay with Hank. Sure, Steve's parents would try to explain his partner, Joe, as a friend or a roommate, but Steve always knew. He could see how in love they were, even more than his parents.
It became normal for him. He heard the words that other people would throw around, how they would talk about how dangerous, how disgusting two men together was. But he couldn't understand why people thought so badly about it. Because Hank and Joe were so happy together and they weren't hurting anyone.
When he was twelve, they were the first people he told when he had the conflicting feelings of having a crush on a pretty girl named Annika in the grade above, but also really wanting to kiss Tommy every time the other boy laughed at one of his jokes. Joe and Hank just listened to him, then taught him about bisexuality. That it was perfectly normal to like both. They gave him gentle warnings, that he would have to be careful because people were cruel.
And because his parents had left him with them for a couple of weeks, they took advantage of it to introduce Steve to other people. They took him to a tiny queer bookshop that was run by a friend of theirs, giving him a space to learn in safety. Because of them, he met people of so many different orientations lesbians, bisexuals, gay men. Self-proclaimed dykes and faggots. Transexuals, men who were once women and women who were once men¹ and people that pushed the boundaries of gender entirely. He felt in awe of all these people, but also loved and accepted by everyone he met.
A few years later, the summer of '82, age 15 and between freshman and sophomore year, he was sat down for a more serious conversation. The day after he arrived, Hank and Joe sat him down for a serious talk about safe sex, in way more detail than what he got from his parents, which was just a pack of condoms appearing in his bathroom on his fifteenth birthday, with a note saying to use them so he wouldn't get a girl pregnant. The talk emphasized the need for a barrier during any type of sex, and brought up the very real risk of GRID, which had yet to be renamed AIDS², to point out why he had to be incredibly careful with everyone he had sex with. But they also made a point to reassure him that they were both okay, that he didn't have to worry about them. They made sure that he knew that they were always there for him, just a phone call away if he ever had any concerns or questions.
A year later, at 16, they decided he was ready for more information. They provided him with pamphlets and zines, covering everything from rights movements to AIDS to secret codes. He took an interest in the hanky code, but felt a little intimidated about what some of the colors meant. They also provided him with a fake id that declared that he was twenty one and that his name was Mark. While he was staying with them, he joined them out in the community. Meeting the people affected by AIDS, learning about the real effects of it and not just the few scare stories that were breaking through on the news. Hearing more stories of lived life, getting a better understanding of the people around him.
Just a few months later, November '83. When everything went to shit. Steve was terrified when he saw the photos Jonathan had taken from outside his house and developed in the school dark room. He couldn't help getting stuck on the what if? What if it wasn't Nancy he had in his room? What if it had been that night when he and Tommy got a little too drunk and kissed each other? What if he'd finally got the nerve to bring a guy home? His life could have been destroyed in seconds by an asshole being a creep.
He became more on guard, scared that at any point someone could be taking photos in his backyard. Then seeing Jonathan with Nancy in her room, it pushed him further. With the fight the next day, he just wanted to make his words hurt. He dug deep and threw out accusations that he'd never wanted to say. Allowing his anger and fear to take over. The moment the word queer left his mouth, he felt an uneasy sense of regret. Accusing someone else of being what he was, as if it was a bad thing.
After it was all over, the details were shared, the cover stories were given, the paperwork declaring that nothing had happened had been signed, Steve felt lost and alone. Even after apologizing, he still felt dirty for calling Jonathan queer. After a few days, he breaks and calls Hank and Joe, and tells them, well not everything, but what he can. The photos, the camera, the fight. What he said to Jonathan. They understood his anger and his fear. They disagreed with his choice of words, but told him that if he'd apologized and meant it, and it had been accepted, there was no point in him continuing to beat himself up about it. That he couldn't change the past, but he had to try and be better in the future.
The following summer, 1984, he joined them with a new hatred and fear of the government. He felt safer with them, not feeling like he was looking over his shoulder all the time. But he was also so worried, what if the Upside Down came back when he wasn't there to help. He threw himself into helping others, knowing there were so many ways that the government was willing to screw over citizens. Wanting to do the little he could when he could. It brought him some peace of mind, being able to do something.
After Starcourt, after getting discharged from the hospital, Steve confides in Robin. He tells her about Hank and Joe. About how much he'd learnt from them. He tells her that he's bisexual, a word she was unfamiliar with, but she embraces him anyway. He spins a story of all the different people he'd met, people that proved it could be okay for people like them.
It formed an even deeper bond between them, a shared understanding that they couldn't find in anyone else their age. They share secrets about crushes, about realizations. Judging how attractive customers are together once they got the jobs at Family Video. Steve showed Robin the zines, helping her pick up more pieces of information, about how many others there were out there.
Steve clocked Vickie pretty quickly, almost certain she was bisexual like he was. Robin struggled to believe him, not wanting to get her hopes up, or to risk getting hurt.
When Eddie crashed into their lives during the spring break from hell, Steve found himself falling hard and fast. He'd noticed the black bandana Eddie wore tucked into his back left pocket, and wanted it. He had never considered being into s&m, but would be willing to take anything Eddie gave him.
He tried to bring it up subtly to Eddie, only to be met with confusion. Even trying less subtle ways of questioning it, Eddie still didn't seem to get it. Steve had to ask if he was flagging, and Eddie responded by asking what flagging was. Steve felt mortified, and stuttered about it being a code, and he thought Eddie was gay. Eddie assured him that he was gay, but still had no clue what Steve was talking about with flagging.
Steve showed Eddie the zines as well, going through all the different colors of the hanky code. Eddie got a little embarrassed when he realized what he'd been signalling, but some of the interactions he'd had with guys the few times he'd been to a gay bar made a lot more sense.
It took a few more days after that for Eddie to realize what Steve had been getting at by bringing up him flagging. There was another awkward, and slightly embarrassing conversation to confirm that yes, they were into each other, and no, neither of them were actually into s&m.
(And of course, Hank and Joe got a kick out of the story when they were the first ones Steve told, other than Robin.)
¹I wrote it this way, as it would have been a way that twelve year old could understand different gender identities in 1979. Different language and terminology was used. I believe that it is up to individual trans people for how they describe and consider themselves pre and post coming out and transition, as it is a very personal thing. I'm non-binary and I consider anything about myself under the age of 17 to be a girl, because that's how I identified at that time.
²(AIDS was known by a bunch of different names, some less kind than others, including GRID [Gay-related immune deficiency] and 4H disease [Heroin users, homosexuals, hemophiliacs and Haitians], until the summer of 1982. The name AIDS was proposed on July 27th 1982, and came into use by the CDC in September of that year. The term HIV came into use in 1986.)
This was supposed to be a quick little headcanon, and it ended up taking me nearly a month to write 1.5k words. And I now want to write so many parts about Steve with his relationship to Hank and Joe. They're the gay uncles everyone deserves.
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I guess it’s never really over
mechanic!steve harrington x fem!reader exes to lovers
chapter three -
This has got to be the longest crush ever
Robin’s bad date, and a late night that changes everything.
warnings: 18+ A little bit of queer and mid twenties crisis angst for Robin, with comfort obvi. Tension, but are we surprised at this point?, and a secret third thing, wonder what it could be? 😚
wc: 6.3k
authors note: Hi babies! I am taking just a week off from my posting schedule for this week long work trip I’m taking on Monday. There’s lots of conferences and I won’t have much down time. We will resume our normal posting schedule for chapter four starting 3/20 🌻🧡
series masterlist | series playlist
June -
Would you believe me if I said I’m in love?
Baby, I want you to want me.
You can’t believe you landed yourself in detention.
All your late night study sessions for the SAT’s that led to oversleeping and missed alarms finally catching up to you just like Robin warned you it would. Miss O’Donnell is the one who makes your best friend's predictions come true, handing you that notorious pink slip for walking into her class ten minutes late for the third time this week.
When you arrive at exactly 3:15, the classroom is mostly empty. Your eyes scan the bored faces of the few students joining you, hoping to at least see Eddie’s familiar head of curls. But of course, today of all days, he’s managed to be on his best behavior or just didn’t get caught.
Sighing defeated, you give Mr. Clark a tight lipped smile, ignoring the shocked look on his face seeing you in here. Picking an empty desk in the middle away from anyone, you decide to busy yourself with the Algebra homework you’ve been avoiding for the better half of a week. It’s when you lean over to unzip your backpack that you catch the sounds of sneakers squeaking against the ceramic floors.
”Ahh, Mr. Harrington. Even fashionably late to detention, I see. Your hair looks good enough to sit in silence for an hour and a half to me.” Mr. Clark announces the king of Hawkins's grand entrance with the kind of sarcasm that makes you smirk as you start arranging your things on your desk.
“That’s good to know 'cause I was doing it for you Mr. C.”
Steve Harrington always thinks he’s so charming
Snorting as you click your pen, you dare to look up only to catch ‘the hair’ looking right back at you with that golden smile that you’ve seen take even the strongest soldiers out.
Oh no.
Eyes going big, you quickly bring your attention back down to your homework, silently hoping he doesn’t take the seat next to you and land you in here next week too.
“So thoughtful of you. Now why don’t you take a seat and do some studying for that test on Monday. And maybe this semester you won’t have to worry about relying on extra credit to keep playing basketball.” Mr. Clark dismisses him, earning a low whistle from the boy who holds his hands up in surrender, Nike covered feet coming down your row.
No, no, no, NO.
You still don’t look up, rereading the same question over and over again because no matter how many times you try, you’re too distracted by the cedar and clove that invades your senses kicking them into overdrive. The whites of his sneakers catch in your peripherals when he does the unimaginable and sits next to you.
Staring at the equation with the kind of concentration that’ll be sure to give you a migraine later, it takes him a good thirty seconds before he temporarily gives up trying to get your attention to grab something that gives the illusion of studying out of his backpack.
Trying to play it cool, your stomach twists in nervous knots worse than the ones you get when Robin forces you on the janky rides at the summer fair every year. Sure, you’ve been hit on by a guy here and there, but no one can prepare you for what it’s like to catch Steve Harrington’s attention—especially for someone in your Hawkins hierarchy who would never be on the receiving end of it.
He flips through the pages of his textbook loudly, earning his first warning glare from Mr. Clark, and you decide to write your name on the top of the page so at least it looks like you’re doing something. After a couple bounces of your knee, you can feel the heat of his gaze back on you.
”Psst, hey.”
The last letter of your name comes out illegible, and you jump at the hushed sound of his voice. Taking a deep breath, you work up the courage to meet his flirtatious smirk and golden brown eyes. The sun leaking through the windows gives you a glimpse of the green that hides inside them from this close. You hate to admit that he’s just as pretty as everyone says he is.
”Hi,” you smile a little shy, offering a small wave of your pen and it lights up his whole face, making your body buzz.
”You have a highlighter I can use or something?” He keeps up his ruse, the whites of his teeth showing in a grin.
You arch an eyebrow at him, something sarcastic reminiscent of Mr. Clark flashing behind your eyes.
“What? You don’t think I’m actually going to study?” He acts shocked, slapping his giant hand across his chest and it earns the kind of giggle from you that pushes him full steam ahead.
”It’s blue, is that okay?” Giving into the bait, you try and hide the way your face warms, ducking down to dig in the bottom of your backpack.
”Are you kidding? I love blue. Favorite color actually.” Laying it on thick, you can see the way he scoots to the edge of his seat, the spice of his cologne making you bite at your bottom lip as your fingers wrap around what you’re looking for.
Sitting up in your seat, you aren’t expecting him to be so close and it threatens to steal the air right out of your lungs.
”H-here,” you manage, holding the blue writing utensil in the small space that's left between you.
Steve's eyes roam your face freely, pink tongue coming out to wet his full bottom lip before they settle back on your gaze, lids a little heavy, voice low and somehow sticky sweet.
”Thanks, honey.” He leans forward more, purposely brushing his fingers with yours when he takes it out of your grasp, “but now, I’m afraid the only way you’re gonna get it back is to let me drive you home after this.”
“I’ve got plenty, you can keep that one,” you try to stay strong, but when that second giggle slips out, you seal your fate.
”I can’t do that, this is your favorite one.” He tisks like it’s the craziest thing he’s ever heard, with a crooked grin that makes you bite the inside of your cheek.
”Is it?”
”Absolutely.”
“Are you two done? Or should we schedule a second date for next week?” Mr. Clark interrupts.
”That would actually be date number three. We’re going on two after this is over.” Steve smirks, throwing you a wink ignoring the harsh way you whisper of his name.
Yeah… you were fucked.
“I’ve got a date tonight!”
Robin sings excitedly, bursting through the front door in a wild ball of energy, successfully waking you up from your nap on the couch. Blinking slowly, as you start to recognize your surroundings, rubbing the sleep from your eyes, you force yourself to sit up, wincing at your stiff neck and the fact that you dreamed about Steve Harrington again.
“A date with who?” You grumble, still a little grouchy, yawning with a stretch that pops in your back.
”This girl that I met at the record store this morning, we talked about Tracy Chapman and Tori Amos for what felt like hours. She’s just, wow, she’s so cool. Almost too cool for me, you know? She’s a senior in college-“
“Whoa, whoa, whoa, hold up.” Cutting her off before she can ramble any longer, you wave your hands for her to stop: “First of all, no one is too cool for you, okay? If anything, it’s always going to be the other way around.”
“Yeah, okay, Steve.”
It takes a minute for her words to sink in about the man you haven’t seen in almost a week and a half, but when they do, the glare that settles on your face makes her laugh.
“Ha ha, very funny.” You deadpan with a tight-lipped smirk, before clearing your throat, “Well where are you guys going? Do you want me to go undercover in case you need saving? I’m fully prepared for a stakeout.”
Robin rolls her eyes, but her smile, which spreads wide enough to see all her teeth, gives away her love for your dramatics.
“No, I don’t need you to go undercover or anything. I mean, it is going to be nice knowing you’ll be here waiting for me to tell you all about it instead of having to call you and hope the city girl answers.” She teases, earning the scoff from you that she was looking for.
“I’m choosing to ignore that, and if at any point you change your mind, you know your own number.”
Earning a genuine laugh from Robin always makes your soul feel lighter, so when your joke lands and you get one, the heaviness of Steve that’s been weighing down on your shoulders eases up just a little bit.
”I’ve just never been approached in public before like that, you know? It’s not just the other girl you know is gay on campus. I don’t know, it feels good.” Your best friend’s confession makes you want to wrap her up in a hug, keeping the urge to remind her of your offer to move to the city with you to yourself for right now, letting her bask in the moment.
”Well, you're hot. Can you blame her? If you weren’t basically like a sister to me, I’d be all over it.” Wiggling your eyebrows, she flips you off, but you still catch the tinge of pink that paints her cheeks rosy.
”Please, Steve would have my head on a stake.” She snorts, purposely trying to get under your skin now.
”Robin.”
”What? I thought he was going to pop a blood vessel in his eye when I mentioned your little ‘adventure’ last week” She giggles, heading towards her bedroom.
If only she knew just how much those words were true. Your thighs meet like in the memory you can’t stop playing on a loop, palms turning sweaty, remembering the velvet of his lips so close to your neck.
”Wait! Did you ask that on purpose?!” You gasp, jumping to your feet to follow her.
”Maybe.”
”Maybe?!”
”You know what I do need help with?” She ignores you, spinning on her heel to meet your narrowed eyes.
”What?”
”Help me pick any outfit?” Pushing out her bottom lip, she gives you the kind of puppy dog eyes that no one in their right mind could say no to.
Sighing heavily, your feet drag on the carpet before flopping yourself onto her bed huffing out a “Fine” as the box springs squeak.
The rest of the day is spent going through what feels like every outfit in Robin’s possession, even getting desperate enough to try on some of your clothes despite your clashing styles. Settling on a pair of boot cut jeans, a black half crop top with a flannel shirt that you’re pretty sure she stole from Steve and the Dr. Martin’s you got her for her birthday last year, she was ready to break hearts. Blue eyes roll in the back of her head when you make her say ‘I’m the prize’ until you feel like she halfway believes it before handing over her I.D. that you’d found stuffed between the cushions of the couch in a frenzied panic to search for it only ten minutes prior.
The sun starts to set on Robin’s small apartment after she finally heads out the door, and the shadows that bounce off the white walls bring back the thoughts of Steve you’d successfully gotten rid of for a few fleeting hours.
Huffing to yourself with crossed arms, you watch the flat bag of popcorn spin around in the microwave. You can still hear the beginning Moonstruck playing on the TV in the living room, over the loud hum of the machine. Comfortable in an oversized shirt that lands just at the bottoms of your cotton sleep shorts, goosebump dot across your legs from the cool of the A/C. Your skin still tingles everywhere he touched and the week of radio silence feels worse the second time around.
The shrill sound of Robin’s phone and the first kernel of popcorn exploding in the bag overpower your ears all at once, making you jump. Mumbling cuss words under the now constant sound of popping, you try to calm your heart rate down, wandering to the living room. Your hand hovers over the phone, the realization about who might be on the other line making your stomach drop. He hadn’t called Robin yet. There’s a moment of hesitation, but you take a deep breath, letting the air expand in your lungs, silently counting to three before you grab the phone off its hook.
”Buckley residen-“
”I need you to come get me, I- I’ve made a huge mistake and I’m just so fuck - “ Robin cuts you off, the rasp in her voice cracking like she’s trying not to cry, “I’m just really embarrassed, please come get me.”
“What happened? Where are you? I’m coming, just - just tell me where you are.” Running to her bedroom to grab your sneakers with the phone pressed to your ear, you can hear her sniffle.
”Benningans, it’s the next town over. I’ll be outside -“
”Are you safe?” You panic, slipping your foot into your shoe as quickly as you can.
”I’m safe, I’m just, I’m embar- I don’t want to talk about it right now. I’m safe, I’ll be outside.” She mutters.
”I’ll get there as fast as I can, okay?” Feeling a little helpless, you try to ease the hurt that’s evident in her tone with soft reassurance.
”I’m just, I’m really glad you're here. I’ll see you soon.” She manages to get out before the line clicks dead.
Slipping your second shoe on, the realization that you don’t actually have a car to save her with, hits you like a ton of bricks.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck.”
Stomping back to the living room, your eyes find the mustard yellow address book next to the phone’s dock. Your fingers fumble through its pages, eyes squinting as you try to read Robin’s messy writing, searching for a familiar name. You find two:
Eddie and Steve.
You stare at the page, your moral compass going haywire. Despite the way he’s rented a space in your mind, the thought of seeing him alone again makes your stomach twist. Eddie would be simple. Eddie would be easy. Your thumb hovers over the first number in the one she has scribbled down for him, but no matter how hard you try, you can’t bring yourself to press it. She needs Steve.
You groan loudly, stomping your foot for good measure, before letting out a long breath through your nose, dialing his number that you knew you should have all along.
It only rings twice.
“Whatever it is, the answer is no,” Steve deadpans.
”Is that really how you answer your phone?” You scoff, doing your best to ignore the butterflies you’ve managed to stifle as they start to come alive at the sound of his voice.
“I thought this was - shit, I thought this was Henderson - erm I mean Dustin, you remember Dustin?” He stammers and you know that hand of his is running through his hair right now.
“Yeah, the middle schooler.”
“Well, he’s like nineteen now -“
“I didn’t call you to talk about Dustin, Steve,” You sigh heavily, rubbing the bridge of your nose, “Robin called me really upset from Bennigans, and I don’t have a car or any way to go get her-”
“I’m on my way.” He cuts you off without any hesitation,“Be outside in five minutes for me?”
”My shoes are already on.”
After a click, you’re left with the sound of the dial tone in your ear. You hang up the phone as warmth floods your body, easing some of your temporary worries.
Steve Harrington is making it hard to hate him.
The short walk to Steve’s BMW from Robin’s front door feels like stepping through a time machine.
One that takes you back to late nights sneaking out your bedroom window, always being extra careful not to wake your parents up so you could go make out with your secret kind of boyfriend under the stars. Those were always your favorite nights with him. The nights he’d put away the king Steve armor, those nights he’d just be Steve. A boy who just wanted to make his father proud, thinking maybe he’d stay home more if he was.
You can feel the way his eyes roam your body, the heat of his stare lingering on your exposed legs, setting your skin on fire. Suddenly more than aware of your lack of pants, only part of you regrets not changing into some leggings, but you try not to think about that too hard right now.
He clears his throat when you open the passenger door, the smell of leather and the dark woody sweet scent of oil surrounding you as you slide into your seat. The spice of his cologne tickles your nose when you close yourself in, clicking your seatbelt in place before daring to meet his eyes. The golden brown inside them shimmers with something you’d missed in the orange glow of the street light and the nerves still feel the same way they did five years ago. The only thing that hasn’t changed.
”Thanks for doing this,” you offer with a weak smile.
When he realizes you’ve put your weapons down for the night, his face softens with a crooked grin, subtle pink dusting the apples of his cheeks.
”I meant it when I said I can’t say no to you,” he starts, selfishly letting his eyes roam the smooth lines of your face that are finally not twisted up into a glare before realizing his slip up, “and Robin, my best friend obviously.”
”Our best friend, Steve.” You tease trying to ignore the tension that crackles in the empty space between you even worse than before.
”Whatever you have to tell yourself,” he winks, forearm flexing as he puts the car in drive.
Scoffing a ‘whatever’ with a playful roll of your eyes, you let your muscles relax into the familiar seat. The Police’s Every Breath You Take spills through the speakers just loud enough to be heard over the low rumble of the engine, and you become hyper aware of his hand resting on the stick shift, the tips of his fingers just close enough to brush against your thigh every time you hit a bump.
There’s a silence that falls between you once the street lights run out and his full focus shifts to the pitch black road ahead. The quiet is filled with what almost happened in his room, unspoken words that don’t dare to roll off of sober tongues. You wait until he’s too distracted looking for surprises that might run out from the woods on either side of you to let your eyes wander over and really take him in.
A white drawstring hangs low on his heather gray sweatpants that fit tight over his thighs spread wide. Your throat goes dry at the white tank top that hugs his broad chest, the gold chain that wraps around his neck getting lost in the thick patch of curls on display. You’re finally able to really make out more of his tattoo for the first time, thin, precise lines that look like feathers attached to a set of sparrow wings.
”Did she tell you what happened? I mean, is she safe?” He interrupts your greedy stare, eyes lighting up when he catches you, tucking it away for another time.
”Uhh, yeah,” you answer with a shake of your head, teeth biting down on your bottom lip with hot cheeks, “she’s safe, she kept saying she’s embarrassed but wouldn’t tell me why, just kept begging me to come get her.”
He just hums, lost deep in thought of all the things it could be, and his grip on the steering wheel tightens with worry.
“We’re only ten minutes away, so it won’t be too much longer now.”
He reassures you, but it feels like he needs it too, especially when his hand leaves the stick shift to run through his hair that looks more tousled than usual, making you wonder if he was lying in bed before this. A worried breath exhales through his nose, with a tight jaw, and you hate the way your stomach drops when both his hands find the steering wheel after he tugs on his roots a little bit.
Nervous fingers play with the bottoms of your sleep shorts, trying your best not to stare while you keep your gaze out the passenger window. Stolen glances are followed by tight lipped smiles when you’d always find him staring back. Honey and chestnut make your stomach flutter, and you think maybe some things never change.
It takes less than the ten minutes that Steve promised for the back roads to turn busy, and bright with the kind of lights a small town on a Saturday night has. A slouched frame sitting on the side of the road catches in his headlights, getting closer you see that Robin’s waves have lost all the bounce she left the house with, along with the rosy tint in her cheeks. The flashing Bennigans sign spins a block behind her, and the orange bulbs match the burning ember on the end of her cigarette that dangles from her full lips.
“Shit, it’s bad if she’s smoking,” Steve mutters, turning on his hazards as he pulls up next to her, the wheels of his car coming to a stop.
She hollows her cheeks out, taking one last drag, waving at you to stop unbuckling your seat belt as she gets to her feet. Blowing the smoke from her lungs into the wind, she flicks the half smoked butt into the street before opening the back door, sliding into the leather seats with an exasperated huff.
“Just, don’t – I’m okay,” she starts, closing the door and shutting out the whir of the traffic outside. “Turns out her boyfriend’s best friend really likes Tracy Chapman and Tori Amos too. She really thought me and him might hit it off after our talk at the record store today. I don’t want to talk about it, I just want to go home with my two favorite people and feel sorry for myself.”
“Well, you’re in luck,” Steve doesn’t miss a beat. Turning around in his seat, he flashes her his million-dollar Harrington smile. “I’m the king of feeling sorry for myself.”
Her lips twitch, but when she sees the natural roll of your eyes at the boy next to you, it turns into a full blown smile. A little shimmer came through in the dulled-out color of her eyes.
Got me up all night
all I’m singing is love songs.
“Honestly, now that I’m thinking about it, this girl sounds like a scammer, Rob. I mean, come on.” Steve snorts, rifling through her cupboards in the kitchen. Tracy Chapman and Tori Amos, what kind of game was she playing at anyway?”
Robin giggles from her place next to you on the couch, her head resting on your shoulder, the green apple of her shampoo still lingering on her curls that tickle your cheek.
“Plenty of people like those artists, Steve.” She sighs, but you can still hear her smile, “It’s fine, I’ll just stay the lonely Hawkins lesbian for the rest of my life, no big deal.”
”Shut up!”
”Will you stop?!”
You and Steve chide her at the same time, hard eyes meeting from across the living room and softening. He doesn’t even try to stop the lopsided grin that pushes up your favorite cheek and you hope Robin doesn’t feel the way it makes your skin warm.
“Whatever, I already warned you I’m going to be miserable. Gimmie a break, and you’re actually taking forever in there, by the way.” Whining, she sits up, sending a rush of fruit and leftover tobacco to your nose.
“Yeah, well, I can’t find your peanut butter,” he mutters, opening up the cabinet above the sink, the bottom of his tank top rising enough to see a sliver of sun kissed skin and a few more freckles. Why does it feel like there's always more?
”What are you even making anyway?” you ask, ignoring the way Robin’s head whips around. A smirk spreads wide across her face because you’re actually trying to make conversation with Steve.
“Just a little something that’s going to cure my best friend’s heartbreak,” he winks, the jar of JIF extra crunchy looking extra small in his grasp, twisting the cap off. “We came up with it together, actually.o biggie.”
Your gaze narrows, but he doesn’t miss the way the corners of your mouth twitch, something sparkling inside the dark gold in his eyes.
”Interesting, considering I ran to the store earlier to grab my best friend’s favorite ice cream, just in case.” You counter, something mischievous twisting up your lips. “You didn’t even think to stop and get it on our way home. Some friend.”
Robin’s smile lights up the room, very obviously enjoying the show, maybe even a little too much. Clapping her hands together, she lets out a content sigh before leaning back into the couch cushions.
”I really could get used to this,” she beams, “maybe we should have a contest, see which one of you can do the nicest things for me.”
You can’t stop the snort or the roll of your eyes that has Steve throwing his head back in a fully-bellied laugh, giving you the perfect view of his neck, and only Robin clocks the way your giggles are cut short and the secret way your eyes glaze over.
”I’m not gonna lie as much as I love crunchy peanut butter banana s’mores, I have to say Steve, the fact that she actually called you makes her the winner for the night.” She smirks, chuckling harder when you shove her with a hushed ‘Robin!’
His smile doesn’t fade as he starts to cut banana slices. Big eyes meet yours with the kind of look that threatens to melt you into the couch.
”That’s alright, I’ll be a gracious loser tonight, but just know, honey, I’m very competitive.” He warns, long fingers spreading the fruit evenly throughout the peanut butter that messily coats graham crackers.
“I don’t like to lose, so it’s fine.” Your quick reply deepens the smile lines in his cheeks, putting the finishing touches on your snacks.
“Yeah, this is definitely the life I was meant to live,” Robin gloats, nudging you, “I’m the prize, right?”
It’s your turn to throw your head back in the kind of laugh that rattles in your rib cage, too distracted to see the lovesick way Steve bites his bottom lip watching you from across the room.
But Robin does.
With a heart so full it might burst, tears threaten to spill from the ocean in her eyes, daydreaming about moments like this, only ever thinking they would be something that stayed trapped in the confines of her mind. The warming feeling of happiness wraps around Robin like a blanket when she gets to sit between you both on the couch. A distant friend she hasn’t seen in a long time, a secret she’s kept mostly to herself.
With a messy plate of half eaten treats and sticky fingers, she’s content watching Cher and Nicholas Cage fight over how much they love each other. Fully knowing that Steve is sneaking looks at you from over her head, smiling to herself at the nervous way you fiddle with your hands in your lap because of it.
Robin doesn’t fight the exhaustion that starts to make her eyelids heavy just a little halfway through the movie. It’s easy to give in when your body weight relaxes deeper into her side, and how Steve drapes his arm over the back of the couch, tucking you both into his chest with evening breaths.
You’re warm, cozier than normal, and it surrounds every part of you.
Cheek pressed against something that’s not firm enough to be the couch, you nuzzle yourself deeper, chasing the heat and the sleep that’s threatening to evade you. Your cushion starts to move, making eyes shift behind lids that aren’t ready to open yet. Lashes flutter, feeling the way your leg is slotted between someone else’s, and the warmth of a palm finds the small of your back, pulling you closer.
A deep sigh rumbles in your ear before fingertips lazily trace up and down the dip of your spine. Stubble tickles your forehead, and as coherency starts to come back to you, a softer patch of hair rubs against your cheek. The kind of spice and lingering sunshine that could only come from one person hits your senses, and the white cotton of Steve’s tank top finally becomes visible.
The shift in your breathing brings his soft touches to a halt, the muscles you’re pressed on your side against stiffening. Realizing your hands are sprawled across his chest, just under your chin, you can feel the way his heart races under your palm. He’s everywhere, and despite the way you’ve told yourself you hate him, your fingers curl into the cotton of his shirt because it feels like home. Toes pressing into his calf, you wind your leg around his tighter, and it turns timid fingertips sure of themselves, tracing patterns between your shoulder blades. You don’t dare look up at him yet, or it would make the way your own hand starts to explore his abs that twitch under your red nails real.
He feels different than you remember, there's more of him now, harder in spots that used to be soft. Your fingers get greedy, the blunt ends of your nails scratching along the outline of his happy trail, earning a low groan from him that vibrates deep in your core. Those butterflies that have made a permanent home out of you start to stretch their wings, and when they feel the soft velvet of his lips against your forehead, they tickle at your ribcage and kick up your heart rate. You wonder if he can feel it.
It’s the faintest kiss, one that you’re not sure you would’ve even felt if you were asleep, but it makes you lean in closer. Inhaling deeply, tears sting at the corner of your eyes when the familiar scent only makes you crave him more. After years spent denying the existence of his touch from your memory, it’s almost overwhelming to feel it again.
The muscles in his arm underneath your neck twitch, and the fingers that have been drawing lazy circles on your back move slowly up your shoulder. The backs of them run down your arm before they finally connect with your skin, goosebumps exploding underneath his touch in a ball of electricity that you can feel on the pads of them that start a new path up the loose sleeve of your shirt.
You fiddle with the bottom hem of his tank top, the heat of his body radiating against already flushed skin. Brave fingers dare to dip underneath only to get stopped by a large palm wrapping around your wrist
“Baby,” there's a hint of a smile and a little bit of grogginess in his voice that gives away that he hasn’t been awake that much longer than you, “I think you should at least look at me before I let you get under my shirt.”
Biting at your bottom lip, you push yourself deeper into his chest, embarrassed, feeling the gentle shake of his body when he laughs.
“Come on pretty, let me see your face.”
His affection makes your heart swell, and you know what it means if you look him in the eyes. Your nails dig into the cotton, tugging at the fabric a little while you pull yourself together, lashes fluttering against your cheeks, shaking the rest of the sleep. Lifting your head up from its hiding place, you cross the line you promised yourself you wouldn’t, but when you meet the green that shimmers in the darkness of his eyes, and the crooked grin that twists up his full pink lips, it feels good to give in.
Releasing the hold on your wrist, he’s gentle, almost hesitant, when his warm palm cups your cheek. The rough pad of his thumb traces the line of your cheekbone feather light, and you can’t help but lean into his touch. No more armor, fleeting glances, or stolen looks, not when he’s this close and even more handsome in the glow of the moonlight.
“Beautiful.” He murmurs just loud enough for you to hear, and your legs somehow wrap around his tighter.
”Yeah?” you whisper, your fingers coming up to the play with the gold chain dangling from his neck. “Why didn’t you kiss me then?”
”What?”
”Last week,”
”That wasn’t the right time,” he sighs, eyes tracing every line of your face like he’s committing it to memory, “It would have ruined it.”
“Ruined what?” You press, twisting the metal between your fingertips, heartbeat ringing in your ears.
“My chance at trying to do this the right way, the way you deserve.” He doesn’t hesitate to say it, like it’s something he’s thought about for years, and it makes your head spin.
“What about now?”
“That depends,” he hums, the pad of his thumb dragging across the slight pout of your bottom lip, threatening to steal the air from your lungs.
”On?” Your voice comes out just above a whisper. Tilting your chin up, you can still smell the peanut butter on his breath.
”If you want me to.” He breathes, the tip of his nose running along the length of yours.
Your hold on his gold chain tightens, pulling him even closer. His eyebrows pinch together when he feels the slightest brush of your lips against his, and he can still taste the sweetness of the banana.
”Please tell me you want me to.”
The desperation in his voice is enough for you to tug him down, closing what’s left of the small gap, your top lip catching against his full bottom one. Just enough to feel the familiar silk that could leave a wildfire in their wake before you finally speak.
“Kiss me, Steve.”
A groan rattles deep in his chest, and he doesn’t hesitate to do what he’s wanted to since he saw you. Applying just enough pressure to wake up every last butterfly, the tip of his nose pushes into your cheek when he slots his lips with yours. It’s soft at first like he’s testing the waters, taking it slow so he can savor it, just in case you never let him do it again.
He pulls away enough to look at you, chestnut eyes blown out wide, and you hate that you already miss his kiss. Giving into everything you’ve fought for so long, it’s your turn to capture his lips. It stuns him at first, but when you open your mouth, his body melts easily into yours, and that big hand of his moves from your cheek to hold the back of your neck. Tongue swiping boldly across your lower lip, he begs you to let him in.
Moans get hidden, muffled inside each other's mouths after you grant him access, your fingers tangle themselves inside the thick forest of his hair that’s still just as soft as you remember. Nipping at his bottom lip, the grip on the back of your neck tightens and you can feel the way he kicks up in his sweats because of it. Your own thighs threatening close when you’re reminded of what’s between his legs.
“Baby,” he warns in between kisses, feeling the roll of your hips, but you don’t miss the subtle way he tries to meet them with his own.
It’s too easy to get lost in him, and the years it took to move past him make even more sense when your tongue finds his again. Fighting for dominance, you try not to think about the irreversible damage tonight might do to you as you tug at his roots, teeth scraping together, the kiss turns more heated by the second. Years of anger and longing come out in desperate touches. His hand finds its way to your hip, the pads of his fingers brushing against the skin under your shirt, sending a shiver up your spine, letting you roll them one, two, three times before tightening his hold.
He pulls you closer, letting you win before his nose nudges against your cheek, his lips finding the corner of your mouth. Catching his breath, he trails them along your jaw before making his way down your neck. Your chest heaves, fingers turning soft and slowly running through his hair. He hums against your skin, his hand staying under your shirt, the warmth of his palm covering the small of your back, leaving wet kisses on the sensitive spot behind your ear.
”Let me take you on a date,” he whispers, leaving one more under his jaw before pulling back to look at you.
”Steve -“
”Just one,” he begs, bumping his nose with yours, smirking when it makes you smile.
”Let me sleep on it,” you sigh, ducking your head under his chin to hide. Too many thoughts trying to occupy space in your mind with a head still dizzy from his lips.
”I’ll take what I can get,” he laughs, the tips of his fingers starting up the familiar patterns that started all of this, quickly make your eyelids heavy, nuzzling deeper into his chest. You weren’t ready to think about tomorrow yet.
🌻 chapter four
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