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#steve fic
bimrwolf · 22 hours
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Let's Meet in the Middle
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steve harrington x afab!reader words: 8,603 warnings: ermmm for once no smoot and not edited LMAO im lazy anyways summary: Secretly yearning for your friend and no one notices is a blessing and curse at the same time. a/n: oh boyyyyyyy i havent wrote in ages. im a lil rusty lmao
The twinkling milky stars stretched across the deep pool of midnight, casting an illuminating glow over Sugar Maple Park. It was the only park nestled in the small town of Hawkins. Four swings, a merry-go-round, and a jungle gym. In the corner there was a soon-to-be skateboard ramp under construction. 
You were laying on top of a wooden table, legs dangling over the edge, arms crossed over your stomach, and eyes closed. The crickets sang their summer song and from a distance you could hear an owl hooting. The sweet smells of maple and pine made you feel at peace.
There was the sound of tires dragging against the loose gravel, pulling into the small parking area, headlights glaring. And although your eyes were closed, the bright light made you squint. The car turned off and the doors opened. The engine running had been replaced with arguing voices. 
“I’m telling you, Michaelangelo is far superior than Leonardo. His abilities are out of this world.” 
“Dude, not only is Leonardo smart but he is the most disciplined and trained. Thus, making him the best.” 
Their footsteps made a crunch sound, getting louder as they approached you. You sat up, a little sad that the peace was over, but that didn’t stop you from greeting the two strangers– who were not really strangers– with a big smile. Steve and Robin continued their argument as Robin hopped on top of the table next to you, throwing her arm over your shoulder. Steve stood in front of you two, hands on his hips. 
“Are we seriously arguing over Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles, again?” You had rolled your eyes, but couldn’t deny that you were intrigued with what they both had to say. You nudged your foot against Steve’s leg. “I would think that nerd shit wouldn’t interest you.” 
Steve huffed. “Mutant Ninja Turtles is not nerdy. It’s badass.” 
You and Robin shared a laugh. You knew she didn’t actually care for the show, but she loved to piss off Steve as much as she could. “Did you bring it or did I sit out here for ten minutes for nothing?”
Steve looked over at Robin, giving her a pointed look, letting her know that the conversation was not over. Robin rummaged into the breast pocket on her shirt, pulling out a nicely packed joint. “Eddie promised us it isn’t the cheap shit this time.”
Steve threw a lighter towards you to light it. Robin was the one to take the first hit, then you, and finally Steve. “When will I ever get to meet this Eddie Munson?” 
They gave each other another look. The same look you had seen them give each other for five months since you had moved to Hawkins. The look full of secrets, too afraid to put you on it. Because what if it was too much? Or maybe because you wouldn’t understand. Either way you respected their decisions not to share whatever it was. 
You had met Robin and Steve your second day in Hawkins. Your father had been hired to help rebuild the town after a massive earthquake. Everything about the town seemed shady. It wasn’t just Steve and Robin who hid the secrets of the town. It was everyone. 
You should be upset. Agitated. Furious. But you weren’t. Well, to be honest, at first you were a bit irritated with the hushed whispers, but the more you got to know the duo, you realized it wasn’t to exclude you or to be mean. It was to protect you. 
And maybe the secret that bubbled inside you made up for it. 
You tried not to stare too long at Steve’s pink lips as he took a drag of the joint. The way he licked his bottom lip after he blew the trail of smoke out, sighing loudly. “Tough day?” You didn’t mean to make it aware that you were watching him. That you were paying attention. But like always, no one seemed to notice that your question was deeper than just a check-in. You quickly averted your gaze to the joint that had found its way back to you. 
“He’s had to work doubles all week because this guy Martin has mono.” Robin answered for him. 
“He’s lucky.” Steve grumbled. “The time off part, not the mono.” 
Robin elbowed you. “He’s lying. He’s so touched starved. He complained for an hour that he wished he had mono because it meant that he was actually–” 
“Okay, Robin. I think she gets it.” Steve grabbed the joint from your hand, fingers brushing against yours. Did you just imagine him pausing, looking at you endearingly? Must have because he turned away and walked to the swing sets. 
“Aw man, he could have at least left the jay with us.” Robin frowned, leaning back, elbows holding herself up. “Don’t mind him. He’s been in a pissy mood since Esther Clark called him a geek when he asked her out last week.”
“I didn’t know he was crushing on anyone.” You hoped you didn’t sound jealous. “I mean, because he doesn’t really talk to me about that sort of thing.” Nice save, you thought. 
But Robin didn’t seem to notice the waver in your voice. “Steve likes anyone with long hair and boobs.” She looked over at you, eyeing you from top to bottom. “Surprised he hasn’t made a pass at you yet.” 
You awkwardly laughed, eyes wide, and looked over to make sure Steve was still moping on the swingset. “Yeah, like that would ever happen. Me and him would… ha… it’s hilarious just thinking about it. He’s totally not my type.” 
Robin shrugged. “That’s what I love about you. The one girl who isn’t my friend to get to Steve.” 
You smiled weakly, looking at your fidgeting hands, something you always did when you weren’t exactly telling the truth. You had only lived in Hawkins for eight months, but it only took three for you to wake up in the middle of the night and realize you felt more for the brown haired boy. No one had caught onto you either, keeping it quiet, going on dates with random boys you didn’t care about. 
Robin grabbed your hand and dragged you towards the swing sets, letting go to plop in the one right next to Steve. She leaned over to lay her head on his shoulder. You felt a pang of jealousy on how easy it was for them to be friends. How they could put an arm around the other without it being weird or romantic. 
Whenever Steve even looked in your direction your whole world spun. 
You kicked the mulch, hugging yourself, softly laughing at a joke that Robin and Steve really only understood. Pretending was so much easier.  
***
Eddie Munson was erratic, eccentric, obnoxious, but probably the most real and down to earth guy you had met. He was hilarious, making your friends laugh more than you had ever seen them laugh. 
Robin and Steve finally orchestrated a get together that involved Eddie Munson. Steve picked Robin and you up, and drove about ten minutes out of city limits, pulling up to a small cabin in the middle of nowhere. You couldn’t help but feel your heart race. This was Robin and Steve’s evil plan all along. They spent these past months getting you comfortable when really they were trying to kill you. 
But then a man burst through. His hair was short and curly. You could see scars run up his face. It was clear he had a story, but that didn’t seem to matter from the huge, cheesy grin on his face. “My my my. Thought you guys weren’t gonna come.” 
Steve had his window rolled down, and you could see him roll his eyes when you glanced at him in the rearview mirror. “Can you just get in? Don’t want to get you back past your curfew.” 
It confused you. By the look of Eddie, he looked well past the age to still have a curfew. 
Eddie blew out a raspberry, picked up a bag on the ground and strode over to the car. He must have not realized you were there until he approached the back door, brows furrowed when he saw you. You quickly scooted to the other side, thinking you were most likely in his usual spot. 
Eddie didn’t say anything as he opened the door and got in, throwing his bag on the floorboard. Or at least, never said anything to question your existence. He threw his head back and sighed. “Thank god you guys called me. My uncle was trying to convince me to help him with what to wear to his date tonight.” He rubbed his face. 
“No way, Wayne has a hot date tonight?” Robin turned to face him, a big smile on her face. “Is it JoAnn from Dolli’s? I’ve been telling him for months he should ask her out.” 
Eddie chuckled. “Yeah, he stayed with her until the diner closed one night, and she calls him almost every day.” Eddie leaned over and patted Steve on his shoulder. “Sorry man. I bet it’s hard hearing that my fifty-something-year-old Uncle is getting more action than you.”
Steve let out a sarcastic laugh. You swore he glanced into the rearview mirror and looked at you. But his gaze left as quick as it came. You couldn’t help but look away, flustered. 
It was then Eddie finally acknowledged you. “And you must be the fair maiden that my friends have been spending so much time with.” He had a warm smile across his face. 
You told him your name, holding out your hand. He took it. “Name’s Eddie Munson. You can just call me Eds, or even good-looking if you want.” 
You let out a laugh that sounded more like a cackle. 
Robin reached over and his leg. “Put your dick back in your pants, dude. This is why we don’t introduce you to strangers.” 
Eddie seemed to have a permanent cheesy grin on his face. “Can you blame me? I’ve been on house arrest for almost a year. When I see a pretty girl, it’s pretty much an insult not to make a move.” He looked over at you. “Don’t worry, won’t do it again. I just didn’t realize when Steve said you were pretty he actually meant it.” 
You felt that flustered heat rise up again. Pretty. Steve thought you were pretty? You couldn’t react. You couldn’t let anyone know that your stomach was burning with butterflies. “House arrest?” You took the changing the subject route. 
Eddie sighed, shrugged, and pulled up his pant leg to reveal an ankle monitor. “You guys didn’t tell her she’d be hangin’ with a criminal?” 
Steve spoke up. “He’s not even a criminal… well… not the way people thought he was.” 
You should probably start thinking about how this was all a plan to kill you. But when you looked over at Eddie, the sincerity that gleamed in his eyes made you give him a small smile. 
The rest of the car ride was mostly filled with Robin and Eddie bickering back and forth. You would join in the conversation if needed. And once in a while you swore you would catch Steve’s eyes in the mirror, both of you quickly looking away. 
You had always been scared of heights. Something with the anticipation of potentially falling, landing with a thud. It made your knees wobble. You looked down at the creek beneath you, Steve looking up at you as you clutched the rope tightly tied to a branch above you. 
“C’mon, we’re not getting any younger.” Robin said behind you. 
You gave her a helpless look. “I shouldn’t have come up here. I can just climb back down.” Actually, the thought of you climbing down the steep hill of rocks made your stomach churn. 
You heard Steve call your name. “What’s wrong?” 
You couldn’t help but scoff. “Are you kidding? I am facing death right now. I can’t believe you and Rob convinced me to get up here.” 
You felt Robin slightly pull you back. “Here. I’ll show you how easy it is.” With no hesitation, Robin grabbed the rope, ran forward, and swung into the air. She let go and her arms flapped until she wrapped them around her knees. Her, Steve, and Eddie who was sitting on dry land reading a book, all laughed as she crashed into the water. 
Steve ran his hands through his hair, a playful smirk on his face when he looked back up to you. He took a moment as if thinking about something before he began to swim back to land. You watched as he quickly jogged to the edge of the hill. He joined you at the top. 
“This is so embarrassing,” you mumbled. 
He chuckled. “Don’t be embarrassed. It took me months to get over my fear of swimming places like this.” He motioned for you to grab the rope again. 
You did as you were told, giving him another pitiful look. “I’m going to die.”
“You’re not gonna die. I’m gonna jump with you.” He grabbed the rope, his hands beneath yours. 
“Are you crazy? The rope is going to snap in two!” Your heart started to beat fast when his bare chest touched your arm as he scooted closer. 
He rolled his eyes. “Me and Rob do it all the time. Do you trust me?” His eyelashes fanned over his cheeks. His deep pools were probably the only thing you wanted to jump into. 
You bit your lip, giving him a nod of approval. He grinned from ear to ear, backing up to get the momentum to run. “Why were you afraid of the water?” 
Steve looked at the ground. “That story isn’t ready to be told.” 
You had never really talked to Steve like this before. In fact, you never spoke to him alone. You leaned into him, bumping your shoulder into his. “Well, I’ll be here when that time comes.” 
He looked up, a glint in his eyes. “You ready? I’ll tell you when to let go.” 
The two of you ran forward. You shouted in fear as you swung over the edge. Steve then shouted for you to let go and you did. Your screams turned into laughter when you felt the wind kiss your cheeks. You felt like you were flying. 
Steve met the water first and you joined in not long after. When you resurfaced, Steve’s face was the first thing you saw. It was out of instinct. You wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him into a hug. Steve’s hands grabbed you by your waist, lifting you up into the air, making you squeal. “Look at her now. Facing her fears.” 
You laughed as he threw you back into the water. You splashed him before swimming back to land. The sudden brave act made your stomach rumble, and you decided to eat one of the sandwiches Robin made. 
Once you got your sandwich, you made yourself comfortable on a blanket right next to Eddie. He still had his jeans on but no shirt. You tried not to focus on his tattoos and many scars on his pale skin. You wondered if the story behind them had to do with the earthquake in Hawkins. If it had to do with Steve afraid of water. You leaned forward to see what book he was reading. 
You hummed, taking a bite out of your sandwich, watching Steve and Robin arguing about Ninja Turtles again. You did a lot of that, watching. 
“So, you ever gonna tell him?” Eddie broke your concentration on a water bug spinning around, making tiny ripples in the creek. 
You swallowed, furrowing your brows. “Hm?” 
Eddie wasn’t looking at you, his eyes still in his book. “You ever gonna tell Stevie boy you like him?”
You guffawed at the remark. “I- I don’t like Steve.” Panic washed over you. You wondered if maybe you were more obvious than you thought. “He’s like totally not my type.”
Eddie snorted. “Yeah. Okay.” 
You opened your mouth, but whatever was going to be said stayed on your tongue because Robin and Steve walked over to the two of you. Robin sat down next to you and laid down with her arms behind her head. “You guys, I’m so ready to get out of here.” 
Robin was going to college in a few months. She rarely brought it up knowing Steve was upset at the idea of his best friend leaving. You smiled, happy for your new friend. “I feel like I still have so much to learn about the place.”
Robin puckered her bottom lip. “Aw babe, it’s okay. At least you’ll still have Steve, and Eddie if he ever gets off house arrest.” 
You glanced over at the freckled boy, noticing a mole on his stomach which was right next to similar scars that Eddie had. Steve kicked the dirt a little, pouting. “Rob, why do you have to be such a buzzkill?” 
Robin had her eyes shut from the glare of the sun, but you could see her roll them beneath her lids. “You act like you don’t have other friends, dingus.” She smirked at a new thought that crossed her mind. “Can’t the girls in town keep you busy while I’m gone?” 
Your stomach knotted, and you felt Eddie look over at you, wiggling his brows. “Harrington has gotten older and wiser. He’s looking for a fair maiden to settle down with.” 
You knew if you reacted, Eddie would figure out you had a crush on Steve. Well, he already knew, but it would only confirm his suspicions. No one could know. 
Robin snorted, “At his rate I’ll graduate before Steve goes steady with anybody.” 
“Must you speak about me like I’m not here?” Steve put his hands on his hips. It was kind of cute when he got irritated, a small wrinkle appeared between his brows. “I’ll have you know I’m going out with Carol on Tuesday.”
Robin’s nose scrunched. “Didn’t you already go out with her? Said her breath smelt like tuna?” 
Steve shook his head. “No, that was Carol Dill, I’m talking about Carol Fists.” 
“Fists? I know what she can fist.” Robin and Eddie burst out laughing as Steve groaned in disgust, saying something about how Robin always ruins things. You pretended to smile at the joke. However, your stomach twisted. You knew Steve dated, but you never took into account the amount of girls he had gone out with.
Robin once told you he had only been in one serious relationship, but it ended badly. You didn’t know her name or what she looked like. A part of you wished you did so you could see what it took to stand out from the pool of girls. Were you that uninteresting? 
Robin and Steve asked if you wanted to join them in one last jump, but you opted out, saying you were tired. They both shrugged and made a bet who could get to the top first. You waited until they were far enough before you brought your knees to your chest, biting your bottom lip. “Is it that obvious?” You didn’t look at Eddie but you directed the question to him. 
It took him a moment to figure out what you meant. “Mm, only if you are one who observes the smallest of details.”
You let out a sigh. “Please don’t tell him.”
Eddie let out a laugh. “Sweetheart, I don’t kiss and tell. He probably wouldn’t believe me, anyway. He never thinks girls out of his league like him.”
There was an involuntary scoff that came out of you. “Don’t bullshit me. I am not out of his league.” You heard Robin scream, arms flailing as she fell off the cliff. Steve was bent over laughing which made you assume he had pushed her. He then ran and jumped off, making you smile as he cackled. 
“If you don’t want people to figure it out, maybe you should stop staring at him with that stupid smile.” You realized if this was the birth of a new friendship, Eddie was going to give you hell. He must be bored being under house arrest and all. 
***
Fourth of July at the Harrington’s was a big deal. The front door was adorned in red, white, and blue streamers. It looked like Uncle Sam had thrown up walking up the steps. 
Robin kept slapping Eddie, who had recently gotten off of house arrest, because he kept trying to unbutton his polo that Steve had let him borrow. It was the only way Steve’s parents would allow him for the festivities. If he looked presentable. 
But even looking presentable did not take his personality, eyeing all the wives and widows that walked past him. 
You on the other hand were secretly sulking because Steve was across the living room, his arm wrapped around the new girl he had been seeing. You think her name was Lacy? You didn’t talk to her too long because it was like talking to a brick wall with breasts. 
Robin scoffed when she heard Lacy laugh, clutching onto Steve. “Dear Lord, he’s really lowering his standards every day.”  
You cracked a smile, hiding it behind your cup of punch, catching Eddie looking at you with a smirk. You prayed he wouldn’t say anything. “I’m pretty sure I heard her ask if Rome existed during the Roman Empire while Mrs. Harrington was showing some painting.” 
You and Robin had to look away from one another, knowing you’d cause a scene if you laughed. It was like word vomit, jealousy had taken over you. “I don’t know what he sees in any of these girls. He’s like attracted to these non-spectacular bimbos just because they have big boobs.” 
You heard Robin whisper your name, and her elbow into your ribs. You laughed when you looked up at your friend but her eyes were full of panic, glancing at something in front of you. 
You turned your gaze to see Steve and Lacy in front of you. Lacy didn’t seem to realize who you were talking about. However, Steve’s jaw ticked. Lacy tried to get closer to him and he reacted by removing his arm from her and walking away. 
“Uh hello? You’re going to leave without saying anything?” She called after him. He didn’t reply as he made his way to the staircase that you knew led up to his bedroom. Lacy huffed, “Whatever.” She crossed her arms and stomped elsewhere. You kind of felt bed for speaking badly about a girl who had no clue about your feelings. But it felt worse knowing you had hurt Steve. 
You looked at your feet, ashamed of what you had said. “Didn’t Steve say his dad had a gun cabinet?” 
Robin smacked your arm. “Not funny.” 
“I thought the clueless look on non-spectacular bimbo was funny.” Eddie’s grin went from ear to ear. You and Robin looked at him with narrowed eyes. He put his hands up in defense. “Too soon?” 
You groaned, turning around, laying your forehead on the wall behind you. “I’m such an idiot.” 
“Jesus Christ. You like him,” Robin proclaimed. 
Eddie laughed. “Wait, you didn’t know?” 
You felt Robin roll her eyes. “She has literally never said or done anything that made me think… ugh this ruins everything. I thought you were different.” 
You snapped your head to face her, brows furrowed. “How does this ruin everything?” You noticed people looking over at you, listening to the commotion. 
“Maybe we should lower our voices,” Eddie mumbled. 
The scoff that Robin made sounded like Are you kidding me? “Girls never want to be my friend unless they want to get closer to him. Then you came along and didn’t immediately start drooling. I thought I had hope.” 
You opened your mouth to defend yourself but you snapped it back shut. Your lips pursed together and you swallowed a large lump down your throat. You didn’t mean to start liking Steve. She was overreacting. “You don’t know anything Robin. And what does it matter? You’re leaving in like three weeks.”
“Not the point,” Robin said through bared teeth. 
Eddie awkwardly steered some bystanders away, convincing them everything was okay. 
You shook your head, laughing in disbelief. “I get it now. This whole time you’ve been jealous.” 
“Excuse me?” Robin was fuming, almost nose to nose. 
“Admit it, you’re in love with Steve and can’t stand that he chooses all these boring girls over you.” 
You must have touched a sore spot that even Eddie was aware of because before Robin could do anything, he stepped between the two of you. He looked at Robin, giving her an assuring look before back at you. Immediately you felt desolate and little. You didn’t belong, because in only one look you knew Eddie was going to back up his friend. “Maybe you should…” he shrugged, motioning to the door. 
You looked between the two of them, Robin faced away from you, but you could see her glassy eyes, brimmed with tears. Your heart sank, wanting to take everything you said in only ten minutes back in your mouth. But you were too stubborn to admit you might have been in the wrong. “Screw you both.” You pivoted, and suddenly the picture of Lacy looked familiar as you stormed out of the Harrington’s house. 
It took you three days to find yourself at the front door of Robin’s house. You knew she would be home because she talked about it a few days ago. She would be packing for her move. When she answered the door, her face was expressionless. You held up a basket of banana muffins, her favorite. You smiled awkwardly. “Can I come in?” 
You could tell by the grip she had on the door that she wanted to slam in your face. Nonetheless, she sighed and opened it wider for you to walk through. “Sorry about the mess. Packing and all.” Her voice was quiet as she led you to her bedroom. Sure enough, clothes, boxes, and other items were scattered all over her bed and floor. “Just got done packing my voodoo doll of Steve,” she joked. 
You winced. One thing about Robin, she wasn’t beating around the bush on any confrontation. “Look, Rob. I didn’t mean what I said. LIke truly. I was the one that was jealous and always have been of your relationship with Steve. You two have all this history and I can’t compete with that.” 
Robin ran her fingers through her hair. “Steve and I have been through a lot of shit… like a lot. But it’s not like that.” 
You couldn’t help but perk up at the last part. 
She continued, “I just don’t understand why you never said anything to me. That you thought you had to keep it a secret.” She plopped down on the ground, her arms hanging off her knees. 
You followed the lead by also sitting on the ground, legs crossed. “I just didn’t want to be like every other girl I guess. I knew it wasn’t going to happen so I never said anything.” 
Robin thought carefully of her next words. “I can’t deny that you were right.” She started to mess with a loose string on her shirt. “I was sort of jealous.” 
Your face softened. “Rob, listen, I can get over him. It’s like a schoolgirl crush.” 
The brunette put her face into her hands and groaned loudly. “No… I didn’t mean I was jealous of you.”
“Of Lacy?” 
Robin bit her lip, looking away from you. Tears started to form at the corner of her eyes and she wiped one with the back of her hand. She sniffled and shook her head. “No.” She faced you again, “I was jealous of Steve.” 
Your brows furrowed. Why was she jealous of him? Your eyes widened. “Oh.” You tried your best not to react extravagantly. It was mostly a reaction of guilt and understanding why Eddie jumped to her defense so quickly. You swallowed something hard. Your cheeks started to heat up. “So the person you like…” 
Robin let out a breathy laugh, wiping her nose. “Not like where it consumes me but I can’t deny the idea crosses my mind once in a while.” 
You couldn’t help but leap and hug her. “Rob, I value your friendship so much. Thank you for being so vulnerable.” 
“I guess we both are good at keeping secrets, huh?” Robin asked once you broke apart. 
You smiled. “Eddie too. He figured it out the first day I met him.” 
She burst out laughing. “He figured out I’m a lesbian in like two days. For a man who won’t ever shut up he somehow sees things we don’t in a matter of minutes.” 
There was a beat. 
“Have you spoken to Steve?” You looked away shyly. 
Robin smirked, rolling her eyes playfully. “He’s fine. You just hurt his ego a little bit. I think he misses you.” 
You blew a raspberry. “Whatever.”
“Why do you think I was jealous? He definitely likes you and that moment I found out you liked him too, I knew it would be a matter of time.” Robin no longer looked sad, in fact she looked ecstatic. She blushed. “I think I only had feelings because you were the first girl who didn’t express feelings for him. That wasn’t fair to you. I’m sorry.” 
Your mind had so many things to address. “No, I’m sorry for not being truthful. There were many reasons I never said anything. Number one being I valued our friendship more than anything.” 
Robin reached over, placing her hand on your knee. “I don’t want to be the middleman. I’ve done that for him for almost two years. All I will say, he dates these uninteresting bimbos because he thinks those are the only girls who will ever like him. You should talk to him.”
You left Robin’s house two hours later. You both spent time packing, laughing about the summer, and telling her when you started having feelings for Steve. You both also cried because Robin was leaving. You had to convince her out of staying that college was meant for her. 
The next day Robin asked you to go bowling. What she didn’t care to mention was that Steve and Eddie would be there. However it didn’t surprise you. You were tempted with running out the door, however; but Robin grabbed your arm quickly as if she knew your plan and walked you to the lane. 
Eddie was facing you both, a childlike grin plastered on his face. 
“Well well well. Isn’t it the two fighting pussycats?” Eddie stuck his tongue out of the corner of his mouth. 
You could only see the back of Steve’s head. He had chosen to wear a baseball cap to hide his hair. He didn’t turn around, but he peeked over his shoulder, quickly averting his gaze to the ground as he put on his bowling shoes. 
Robin walked up to Eddie, smacking him on the back of his head. “That was a gross comment, Munson.”
He rubbed the spot she had just hit. “Geez. Twas just a joke.” He then looked up at her, grinning. “I could’ve said it was kind of hot. But did I?”
Robin thumped his forehead this time. 
“You make me want to scream sometimes.” She pinched the bridge of her nose. 
“That’s funny, your mom said the same thing to me last night.” Eddie and Steve burst out laughing. Robin looked like she wanted to strangle Eddie. Yet, she didn’t react. She plopped in the seat next to him and put her shoes on. 
You followed by sitting next to Steve, avoiding any type of eye contact. You noticed Eddie and Robin giving one another look. The awkwardness between you and Steve was too suffocating not to notice. 
Your mind raced if he knew your feelings or did Robin and Eddie not say anything? Robin did say she wasn’t meddling but nosey is Eddie’s middle name. 
You opened your mouth to say something, anything, to Steve, but he had already gone up to enter names and take his turn. You looked at your hands, defeated. 
And so it was like a tug-of-war. When Steve talked, he only spoke to Robin and Eddie. He wasn’t excluding you on purpose but whenever he spoke he never looked at you. Whenever you tried to enter the conversation or talked he’d act uninterested. 
You even tried to flirt, going up to him personally and saying what a good bowler he was and if he could give you any tips. He glanced over at the scoreboard, noticing you were in second place. “M’think you have the hang of it.” 
You could hear Eddie wince audibly for you. You shit daggers his way before turning around and rolling the ball down your lane. This bowling alley was not on your side because you somehow made a strike. 
“Good job! I guess the trick is to make you pissed off.” Eddie laughed at his own comment. Robin elbowed him in his side, whispering that now was not the time. 
“I’m not pissed off,” you defended, feeling your cheats heat up with embarrassment. “I’m fine, perfectly fine!” 
Steve still was not looking at you, rather the ground.
You stormed up to him. “Are you just going to ignore me the whole night? You won’t give me a chance to even apologize because you’re acting like a child.” 
He didn’t flinch. 
You threw your hands up. “I’m so sorry I hurt your feelings the other day. I can own up that I shouldn’t have said it. But dude, it freaking sucks when I see you wasting your time on people who don’t care about you.” You regretted speaking up now, mostly because of other people looking over in your direction. You pursed your lips, trying not to cry. “Thanks for inviting me, Rob, but I think it’s time for me to go.” You stopped her and Eddie before they tried to argue. 
You walked out of the building and sat in your car processing everything. Robin was moving away and now you had lost one of the only friends you had in this stupid town. 
***
You contemplated knocking on the front door to the Harrington household for nearly fifteen minutes before committing. You let out a sigh of relief when it had been Robin who answered the door. Almost immediately you wrapped your arms around her. 
“Hey, no crying. I told you that yesterday.” Her hug didn’t reflect her words as she pulled you in tighter. “Thank you for coming.” 
She knew you almost didn’t. 
Everyone was in Steve’s backyard, Robin told you, explaining that was the only way his parents allowed Robin’s going away party to happen if all the activities were not in the house. She even made a joke that his mom probably didn’t want them using the bathrooms. 
You felt nervous when you heard all the voices walking to the backyard. You didn’t recognize anyone. It didn’t seem to phase anyone when you appeared with Robin. Eddie was lounging on a chair, talking to a dark-haired scrawny boy. He called out your name, greeting you. It brought the attention of others, including Steve. 
He was in the pool, laughing with a girl you thought looked familiar but had no idea who she was. She was petite and shiny brown hair. This was the first time in weeks you had seen him, and he had actually acknowledged your presence. He smiled half-heartedly and gave you a small wave. 
Robin grabbed your hand, dragging you towards the pair. “Rob, I don’t think–” 
“Nance! I want you to finally meet who I’ve been telling you about.” Robin laid her arm on top of your shoulders. 
Nance smiled. It was warm and inviting. “Steve said you were pretty.” 
You peered at Steve who had begun to submerge himself into the water, his face still poking out. “It’s nice to meet you Nance.” 
She chuckled. “Actually, it’s Nancy. Nancy Wheeler.” 
You smiled at her. You normally found it hard to talk to new people, but she somehow seemed to make everyone around her comfortable. “How do you know Robin and Steve?” 
Everyone gave each other a look, silently saying something that you didn’t understand. It was the same look Eddie would also give them whenever you asked a too personal question that no one knew how to answer. It was like they all were hiding something. 
“We were close when the earthquake hit.” Nancy answered, smiling warmly. You felt not everything was being said but it didn’t matter. You knew you could trust there was a reason they didn’t say. 
The afternoon consisted of conversations with all of Steve and Robin’s friends. Most of them were in college or had moved off. Your favorite was a curly haired boy named Dustin who seemed to have a special connection with Steve. It was like they were complete opposites but also shared the same mind. 
Steve had spoken little to you, but it was a step up from ignoring you. It hurt knowing that you two were no longer friends. Yet, you accepted it. Even when you had gone to grab a drink out of the cooler outside, and Steve’s hand touched yours when he went to grab it at the same time. Or when you had found yourself sitting next to him, his shoulder still damp from pool water, brushing your bare arm. You swore when he laughed he leaned into you. 
It wasn’t until you had gone inside to use the restroom, finding yourself in one of the hallways looking at all the pictures on the wall. They consisted of wedding photos of his parents, family portraits, and a lot of pictures of Steve. That’s when you caught the picture of Steve and Nancy on the wall. Your heart plummeted a little as you realized why you recognized her. Granted, it was only from what you assumed to be their prom, but she must be the girl Robin had talked about. 
“That seems so long ago.” You jumped at the voice that came from behind you. Your shoulders relaxed when you peered behind your shoulder to see it was Steve. “Sorry,” he mumbled. 
“No, it’s okay. I didn’t know you were there, that’s all.” You looked away from him, still embarrassed from everything that had been going on these past few weeks. You had made your apologies, and although you felt like he should apologize too, you just wanted your friend back. 
He stepped forward so he’d be shoulder to shoulder with you, but he didn’t say anything. At first. “Isn’t it weird we think we meet everyone we’re gonna meet when we’re young?” 
You looked back at the prom picture. “I wouldn’t have wanted you to meet me in high school.” 
He laughed. “I wouldn’t want you to meet me either. I was a true asshole.”
“What changed? A girl?” You motioned to the picture on the wall. 
Steve took a moment. You could tell he was thinking about what he would say next. “No. I was still a pretty big asshole. It was more of the break-up part that I decided I needed to grow up.” He looked down at you, but you avoided eye contact. “I guess I’m still not doing a great job.” 
Your face softened, finally catching his gaze. “You are. We all have moments when we're assholes.” 
“Yeah, but I never apologized for giving you the cold shoulder. After hearing what you said I had a lot of… self-evaluation.” Steve licked his lips. “I haven’t gone on a date in weeks.” 
You took a second to process. “How is that going?” 
He smiled, nodding his head. “It’s been good. I guess I was a serial dater because I was afraid of being alone.” His shoulder brushed yours. “I think I took my friendships for granted.” 
The warmth of his hand made your stomach flip. You needed to tell him. “Steve.” Your tongue felt dry. 
“Thank you for being patient with me. It’s nice knowing that even though Robin won’t be here I’ll still have a good friend around.” He patted you on the shoulder. You tried not to feel the disappointment in you. Of course he only saw you as a friend. 
Did you need to say something? Maybe you could grab him by the shoulders and kiss him. You didn’t, praying it would go away in due time. 
***
You understood why Robin was relieved when she had made a girl friend. Between the burps and jokes you started to miss her more and more. What was worse, you realized you were spending a lot more time with Steve. You began to notice he was getting older and stronger. The shirts he wore started to hug him. Mostly because he started going on runs again. He had told you and Eddie anytime he felt lonely, he’d just put on his sneakers and sprint out the door. He must have been running a lot. 
School had technically started in Hawkins. You felt lame because you didn’t apply to the community college like you said you would. Work at the museum was boring. However, you found yourself at Steve’s house trying to get in as much swimming before it got cold. Steve didn’t seem to mind. 
There was one particular day you, Eddie, and Steve were meant to go to the pond you had gone too with Robin. However, when you got to Steve’s house so he could drive, a downpour of rain began. You sat on his couch while he was on the phone with Eddie, saying that the three of you could go next weekend. Your eyes followed him as he walked over, plopping right next to you. He smelt like a mix between coconuts and bourbon. He put his arms behind his head, his bicep flexing. 
Your crush had definitely not gotten any better. “I guess I’ll head back home then.” 
Steve furrowed his brows. “What? Are you crazy it’s like a tropical storm out there” 
You kicked his leg. “I’m not defenseless, you know? I know how to drive.” 
“Defenseless, no. A good driver? Not according to those curbs you hit.” Steve’s eyes were closed, but his mouth broke out into the biggest smile. 
 When he had made that comment you had poked him. He poked you back. You returned by poking a sensitive spot under his armpit. He was then on top of you, tickling your ribs, making you cry of laughter. 
You both cooled down, the heat from his body more noticeable when you noticed how close his face was to yours. He hadn’t shaved in a few days, his rough stubbles poking around his face. You couldn’t help drag your finger across his jaw to feel them. You were unsure how it happened. Who kissed who first was the dilemma going through your mind as your lips melted together. 
He supported himself by having one hand by your head, the other hand cupping your face. You wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him closer, deepening the kiss. Your fingers played with his hair. He hated people touching it, but good friends don’t kiss one another. 
Your eyes shot wide. Steve made a grunt as you pushed him off of you, standing up quickly, feeling a little light headed from the blood rushing through you. Steve sat up on the couch, lips red and swollen. His hair disheveled. You saw him run his tongue behind his bottom lip. 
You held yourself, feeling so vulnerable. “I think the rain let up. Safe to drive.” Your voice was weak. 
His jaw ticked. “Oh.” As if on cue a roar of thunder shook his house, the windows lit up from a lightning bolt. He gave you a look that he didn’t need to say anything for you to understand. He didn’t want you to go, but he knew you weren’t going to stay. 
You walked out of the living room and to the front door. Your hand was on the door knob, ready to open it and run out. There was an urge to turn around and so you did. Steve had followed you to the entryway. 
“Why do you tell your friends that I’m pretty?” You asked him. 
Steve’s chest expanded and fell back to normal. “What do you want me to say?”
You raised your hands into the air. Your voice rose. “It’s not a complicated question, Steve. Why do you tell all these people that I’m pretty?” 
Steve’s tone matched yours. “Because you are?” He said it so simply. Like it was easy. 
Your arms fell to your sides. “Then why have you never told me?”
Steve was taken aback. The silence between you was full of palpable tension. “Haven’t I?” 
You scoffed. “No, Steve. You haven’t.” 
He swallowed hard, looking off to the side. 
“Listen, we don’t have to talk about this. I know you’re lonely since you haven’t been going on dates and we just got caught up in the moment. It’s fine really.” You were looking at your feet, your shoelaces loose, dragging on the floor. You thought about how last week they did the same thing and Steve had kneeled down and tied them for you. 
He said your name but he didn’t move to stop you as you bolted out the door. 
The next weekend you debated telling Eddie you were sick when he had called to ask if you were still down to go to the pond with him and Steve. If Eddie knew about the kiss, he didn’t say anything. 
Steve must have begged to pick up Eddie first or they were already together when they came and picked you up. You sat in the back of the car, arms crossed, staring purposefully at the rearview mirror. Eddie kept going on and on about how everyone from his old band, Corroded Coffin, had either left town or started a family. Eddie told you about after the earthquake he had lost everything, including his most prized possession— his guitar. 
When you arrived at the pond there was an awkward silence as everyone carried blankets and the ice chest to a spot that seemed suitable to sit on. Fortunately, the ground was dry from the few days of rain Hawkins had received over the past week. You could see trees beginning to brown, and wildflowers wilting, telling you that summer was slipping away. 
You looked over at Steve arguing with Eddie about forgetting to pack sandwiches. He had gone ahead and taken off his shirt. His muscles poked out and the hair on his chest was dark and unruly. Steve walked away from Eddie, mumbling that Robin never forgot to bring food. He caught you in the act of watching him, his face turning red. 
This was ridiculous. You spent weeks being mad that he was avoiding you. “You wanna race to the top?” 
Steve looked over at the hill where you could see the tan rope swaying side to side. He smirked. “I’ll give you a head start.” 
You didn’t take a beat to think before you pivoted and started to sprint towards the hill. It didn’t take long for Steve to catch up with you. He was going easy, keeping a steady pace slightly in front of you. You might have gone slower because you were distracted by how his butt looked in his swim trunks. 
You both climbed the hill, giggling as you almost slipped. His hand on the small of your back to hold you steady. You suddenly cried out, looking at your hand. Steve immediately went into action, eyes wide with concern. “What happened?” 
He adjusted himself to look at the problem. You went to show him your hand, but then you stuck your tongue out and quickly climbed faster to reach the top. Steve called out your name, calling you a cheater as you pulled yourself to the top of the hill. You laid on your back, catching your breath, laughing once you saw Steve dragging himself on the top. “That was not fair.”  He was on his arms and knees laughing almost as hard as you. 
It wasn’t even that funny but it felt nice to just laugh. With Steve. You sat up, your face hurt from smiling so hard. Steve’s eyes softened. They were hazy and he looked stupidly drunk. You nudged him. “Why are you looking at me like that?” 
He blinked a few times. He sat up, taking his finger and brushing your cheek. “I couldn’t help but think how pretty you are when the sun shines on you.”  
Your heart raced. Your words were struggling to form. You looked over at the pond, glistening underneath the sun. “I like you Steve but I can’t just be a fling to you.” 
He looked sad. You heard your name said under his breath. “I like you so much. All this time I didn’t know what I wanted and when I met you it just got harder to click with anyone or feel the way I do about you. It was hard to avoid those feelings. I never said anything because Robin was so happy to have a girl as a friend and I couldn’t ruin that for her.”
Your cheeks were hot and you covered your face with your knees. You weren’t sure how to react hearing the boy you’ve had a crush on likes you back. The end of summer breeze kissed your nose. 
His tanned skin was starting to fade, but you could still see all his freckles covering his shoulders. You leaned forward, placing your lips softly on his shoulder blade. 
“Have you been to Enzo’s yet?” Steve leaned his forehead on yours, a cheesy smile painted on his face. 
You messed with a loose string hanging off your swimsuit bottoms. You were almost too afraid to look him in the eyes. “Are you asking me on a date?” You had never been there. Someone told you it used to be the only nice restaurant before the earthquake. Most of the new residents didn’t go, leaving it to be a sacred place for the natives of Hawkins. 
“Didn’t I just confess I like you?” Steve chuckled and you could feel the vibrations from how close he was to you. 
You ducked your head, feeling flustered. “It’s intimidating to know I’m not the only person you’ve taken out on a date.” 
Steve was silent for a moment, hopefully thinking carefully over a valid concern. He placed his hand on yours, trailing his fingers over yours. He then used the same hand to lift your chin up. “I don’t take just anyone to Enzo’s.” 
Your heart fluttered. He was smooth. You tried to say something that Eddie was probably concerned the two of you had died or got lost. Steve disregarded it because his lips found yours. 
It was soft and slow. It felt just as nice as the first time you kissed. Except now, you knew how he felt. You felt kaleidoscopic. It was overwhelming and sexy. 
You hoped it would always feel like this. That anytime you felt the last moments of summer, you always remembered the beginning of a new season you had never felt before.
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stevebabey · 1 year
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nine facts, one lie
summary: It didn’t matter that your best friend Robin claims he’s changed, you do not like Steve Harrington. He used to be egotistical, a player, an asshole — and you’re not in any hurry to believe he’s changed his ways.
Never mind that he seems terribly kind now, compliments here and there, or even that he’ll pick you up from a date gone horribly wrong… [16.5k]
[one sided enemies to lovers — you hate steve and by god, does he want to change that] dedicated to my dearest kenny
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Fact #1: You did not, under any circumstance, like Steve Harrington. 
It doesn’t matter what Dustin says nor the smug roll of Robin’s eyes, you knew it yourself even if no one else believed it; you did not like Steve Harrington. 
From everything you’ve ever heard about the guy, it was a surprise that he still had any friends — especially with the likes of your friends, a fact that makes you gag when Robin brings it up.
Robin, lovely best friend Robin, who completely betrayed you by associating herself willingly with Steve.
Since the beginning of high school, the two of you had been thick as thieves. Gossip was spilled between the two of you frequently, juicy enough to make even Carol Perkins’ head spin — you talked often enough that it got you split up during class time constantly, giggles too loud to be contained. 
Being at the bottom of the social food-chain —or maybe worse, completely unseen to your peers— there was nothing like sharing snarky remarks between you and Robin about the dunderheads who ‘ruled’ the school through idiotic popularity. 
Robin had a particular dislike for Tina Burgess ever since she’d started the rumour that girls in band were freaks in the sheets and would put out to anyone who would ask. You weren’t sure what had been worse: the obvious dig that Robin wasn’t getting any or the slimy guys who believed it and had the guts to ask. 
You, however, distinctly despised the likes of King Steve.
It was impossible to pinpoint what about him grated you so much; maybe, it was how he seemed to have girls in and out of his bed like he was playing a game, trying to rack up as many points as possible. Or maybe, it was that even you, invisible and not even on his radar let alone on his list, could see the appeal. 
Even better than easy on the eyes, Steve Harrington is one of those guys that makes you understand the word gorgeous.
It doesn’t help that he’s rich as well, with a huge house with a pool and even a swanky car to pick you up in. A complete daydream. Swept away into sheets softer than yours at home, you’d get to spend a night in the arms of the most popular guy in school and if you’re really lucky, he’ll still pretend to know your name the next day. 
What had really stuck with you was gossip you’d happened to overhear, head stuck in your locker as you fished around for your books and papers. Tommy H and Steve were 3 lockers over, at Tommy’s locker, and sharing the details of Steve’s latest conquest. 
So was she any good? Tommy had been asking. I always assumed nerdy chicks weren’t as good- they practically cream their pants considering no one’s ever kissed em’ before.
Steve had laughed along too. Yeah, man. She was all over me. Had to keep picturing someone hotter though, you know those geeks aren’t the prettie— Your stomach had curdled and you had slammed your locker door louder than needed, just to shut him up. You were sure they both saw you leave. 
It drove you insane. And even though Steve likely knew nothing of your existence — didn’t matter you had once been chem partners, nor the fact you shared English class— he was probably as close to an evil nemesis you’d ever get. 
Hence the utter betrayal of Robin’s friendship with him.
Originally, when she’d told you over the phone, gleeful and gossipy, that King Steve had just been hired at Scoops Ahoy, the two of you had snickered. It hadn’t been enough to watch him drift from his other asshole friends, something in you burned deliciously hearing he’d fallen from yet another pillar. 
It had only gotten better. Robin recounted countless stories where he had flunked out with girls — you’d nearly lost it hearing about her whiteboard, tallying up his ‘hits & misses’ when trying to score a date. It finally seemed Steve Harrington was somehow more of a loser than you. 
On the 4th of July, 1985, Starcourt Mall burnt down — and the strangest thing about it all was that Robin suddenly didn’t seem to mind Steve so much. 
They were friends. You’d been a little miffed at her quick change of heart as she doused your gossipy mood in an instant, insisting that Steve wasn’t so bad once you got to know him. 
Rather reluctantly, your teasing remarks about Steve were brought to a halt as Robin retaliated each time, urging you to give him another chance. And while you agreed to be civil, especially considering you had to see him every time you visited Robin at work. But what could you do? Old habits die hard.
Fact #2: Steve Harrington is trying to be a better person. 
Okay, you didn’t know that one, but Steve certainly did.  
It means even though Robin had dropped several warnings and a few premature apologies, Steve was prepared to be absolutely lovely when meeting her other best friend (the other being himself, of course). Robin still seemed tense about the two of your meeting — so far you’d specifically come to visit her at Family Video when you knew Steve wasn’t there. 
But a few shifts had been swapped around and on her late night Thursday shift where you always came by to keep her company, Robin was readying herself for the collision of her two friends. 
Despite all her convincing, she could tell you weren’t sold on the new Steve she claimed to love and you hadn’t come by when he was there, meaning all your experiences to do with Steve were rooted back in his days of assholery. 
It didn’t matter to Steve; he loved Robin and he had lots of practice trying to gain the ‘wow, you’re not a douchebag anymore’ gold star. He had this in the bag. 
The janky chime of the door buzzer announces the arrival of someone in the store and being the one at the counter while Robin tends to the shelves, Steve’s head pops up, ready to greet. 
“Hello! Welcome to Family Video!” 
It sounds far too rehearsed, recognizing the customer service voice you put on at your own job. You nearly smile at the cheery greeting, taken aback by Steve’s handsome grin and his floppy hair, messed from the force of his movement. Then you clock yourself and have to fight off an urge to scowl. 
Eyes already searching over the aisles for Robin, you’re just wondering if she’ll come save you from this conversation when Steve seems to realise who you must be. 
“Oh, you must be y/n.” His easy smile, hands leaning forward onto the counter that separates you, takes you aback.
In your peripheral, you can see Robin spot you and head in the direction — but she doesn’t come quick enough to stop Steve from bungling the whole conversation with his next sentence. 
“Robin’s told me a lot about you. I’m Steve,” His tone is friendly and at your silence, he continues. “Steve Harrington.” 
Oh my God. He doesn’t even remember you.
Over Steve’s shoulder, you can spy Robin burying her head in her hands and muttering something to herself. Any annoyance you had pushed down springs to the surface. You school your expression as neutral as possible, though you’re sure your brow crinkles in irritation. 
“I know.” 
Okay, that was meaner than you intended, especially as you recall Robin’s plea to be civil at the very least. You clear your throat, unsure if you can completely hide your distaste for him.
“We were chem partners, freshmen year.” You remind him, attempting a smile. It might be a grimace. “And I was in your English class your senior year.”
Steve seems to realise his mistake, his cheeks turning rosy and his eyes widening almost comically — fuck, way to go, Harrington. All of his pep talks, amping himself up to be so friendly to you and then he goes and ruins it by not remembering you.
It’s embarrassing. Hawkins is a small town and practically everyone knows everyone, with the exception of popular kids who didn’t think they needed to. He winces, frustrated that his past has come back to haunt him yet again.
“I’m sorry.” He says, more sincere than you’re expecting. Well, you’re not expecting an apology at all — the Steve you remembered would’ve laughed it off, claiming that he couldn’t forget a pretty face and trying to brush over the fact he forgot you at all.
“Seriously,” he reaffirms at the hint of surprise on your features. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to forget your face. I’m pretty sure you’re the only reason I passed that chem class.”
Robin seems to sense your internal battle, baffled by his apology but still irritated by the fact his memory didn’t deem you memorable enough. She also wants to jump on the spot and say ‘told you!’ because the surprise you’d shown means you hadn’t believed her.
A part of her feels bad, knowing the battering Steve’s taken to his head too many times has undoubtedly knocked a few memories loose; but it’s not that they could explain that to you. 
“I’m just shelving — want to come sit?” She offers, taking the conversation away from you and Steve. “We watched Highlander today and I could sit and explain the whole plot to you?” 
It’s the usual activities you and Robin did when you came to bug her on her shift. You loved listening to Robin talk as she possessed a unique ability to turn a 10-minute retelling into an hour-long debate. Each subplot in the film needed to be discussed, with bad analogies that came out of left field and made you laugh til your sides hurt. It wasn’t a bad Thursday night all around. 
Just as you’re about to respond, Steve cuts in and speaks instead. 
“Robs, you’ve only got two hours left. It’s a Thursday, you could take off if you wanted? I don’t mind.”
Robs. Somehow the nickname for your best friend coming from Steve is more jarring than the polite offer he’s extended. Steve’s eyes shift back over to you, offering another weak smile and you wonder if this is a continuation of his apology. 
“Really?” Robin’s excitement is evident. Bunking off early means you two will sneak a movie and have time to grab some greasy food for an actual hangout. “I mean- are you sure?” 
Steve nods sincerely then cracks a grin, shooting a sarcastic smile at Robin. “What think I can’t hold down the fort for a couple hours?” 
Robin is already peeling off her Family Video vest, digging under the counter to pull out her school bag. “I don’t think it, Steve. I know it.” 
He laughs, meandering his way back to where Robin has left the returns cart and, furiously, you have to admit he’s being awfully nice. Robin nearly trips coming around the counter, her hand grasping your arm tightly to keep herself upright and she beams at you. 
“C’mon!” She says, pulling you out the door, the buzzer chiming again as you both leave the store. Once outside, she pauses and you can feel her stare burning into your temple. She doesn’t say it but you can feel the beginning of an i told you so building in her throat. 
“Don’t say it.” 
“Say what?” She plays clueless but her grin gives her away. She links an arm through yours. 
“Don’t say anything.” You say with a scowl, the two of you beginning to stroll down the stairs out the front. The crispness of the night makes you tug her a little closer. “I still don’t like him.” 
Fact #3: Steve Harrington still likes to flirt. 
In the beginning, the compliments are because Steve really wants you to like him. 
He sees more of you with the change of shifts and perhaps, he gleefully thinks, you aren’t completely avoiding him anymore. You’ll come to see Robin in store even if he’s working as well and inadvertently, conversations spring up between the two of you. 
The first time he tries to slip in a compliment casually, he’s not entirely sure what reaction he gets. On this day you’re waiting for Robin to finish out back, packing up some of the schoolwork she’d done in the backroom, and to Steve’s delight, you’ve opted to wait up by the counter with him. 
You’ve already exchanged an awkward couple hello’s and now silence falls between you. Steve clears his throat and tries to earn his not a douchebag star. 
“Did you get a haircut?” 
You blink. Without thought, you bring up your hand and run it over the silky strands — cut fresh from yesterday. Surprise sprouts in your chest at the fact he noticed.
“Yeah,” you nod, tucking it behind your ears. “I did.” 
“It looks good.” He compliments, pairing it with a genuine smile. “It like,” he gestures with a hand, hoping his ears aren’t as red as they feel. “Frames your face better. You look nice.” 
For a moment, you forget to mask your emotions and the simple act of a compliment from an attractive guy makes your lips twitch into a smile. Robin bundles out of the back room before you remember to say something snarky, like What and my hair looked bad before? 
Instead, it hangs in the air and when you leave behind Robin, you really consider smiling over your shoulder at him. 
But it ruminates; the compliment loops in your mind until your insecurity unstitches it and it warps into something else entirely. His motivation is the question on your mind.
In what world does Steve Harrington flirt with you? 
It has to be a joke. He must be making fun of you because that’s exactly what Steve used to do and if he’s not, that means he has changed and you’re suddenly worthy of his attention.
You recall the locker-room talk, his jeering tone and everything about his compliment turns sour. 
Somehow, Steve’s worried he’s managed to make it worse.
His compliments dropped here and there — commenting on film choice, saying he likes your sweaters, all it seems to earn him is scowls. Your scrunched nose and heated glare from your distaste either means he’s worse at flirting than he remembers or it’s a painful reminder that still you see him as King Steve.
He’s not — he knows he is not. King Steve wouldn’t have bothered looking at the film you’d picked out, his comment would’ve been on your body not on the clothes you choose, and he certainly wouldn’t have noticed something as trivial as a haircut.
And because Steve is nothing if not a whinger, he tells all this to Dustin when the kid comes in to visit.
“I mean, I know I was bad but,” Steve cut himself off with a scoff, following Dustin through the aisles. Dustin didn’t even look as though he was listening, eyes trained on the shelves intently. “I apologised for not remembering her, like, an actual genuine apology— and that was years ago! I don’t get why she doesn’t like me, man.”
Dustin, who had indeed been listening to the rant of his older friend, promptly stopped and plucked a film off the shelf with a quiet aha!
“Are you even listening to me, Henderson?”
“Yes, Steve.” Dustin spun, eyes narrowed as he stared up at Steve intensely enough to unnerve him. “From what I’ve heard, you were pretty damn bad so I’m not surprised some people hold a grudge!”
“Yeah, but—”
“And you didn’t remember her. Maybe you did something rude in high school and completely forgot about it?”
Steve waved his hands dismissively, shaking his head in disagreement. Without noticing, you had slipped in the store up front, usual conversation struck up with Robin. However, you’d been quickly distracted as you searched the store for Robin’s other half and were baffled to find him following around a child.
“Looking for Steve?” Robin jibed when she noticed your gaze wandering across the store, your attention going with it. 
You ignored the jab, rolling your eyes with a light laugh. “He wishes. Is he talking to a kid?”
“Who Dustin? Don’t let him hear you call him that.” Robin warned with a roll of her own eyes, shuffling about some stock room records in her hands. “He’s like Steve’s best friend. He was, uh, in the mall fire with us last year.”
The mall fire. Robin doesn’t talk about it at all, a hollow expression taking over her features that freaks you out far too much to push it. Pushing past your surprise, you decide to focus on the other part of her sentence.
“They’re friends?”
As if to prove your point, the two of them head to the front of the store in the middle of a bicker — Steve lags behind a bit, hands waving dramatically as Dustin calls over his shoulder, tone righteous and just a tad smug.
You catch the end of Dustin’s sentence— “Not every girl has to swoon over you, Steve, you know that right? So what if she doesn’t—” cut off when Steve shoves his shoulder, having spotted you.
Dustin looks as though he experiences a ripple of emotions; annoyance, as he whips around, ready to cuss Steve out for the shove, which quickly turns to confusion at the wide-eyed look Steve is staring down at him with. By the time he’s facing you something has clicked as he looks at you with renewed interest.
“Dustin.” He introduces, stepping forward with one hand held out for you to shake. “Dustin Henderson.”
Unwittingly, you peer over his shoulder and connect eyes with Steve — who gives a shrug in response, an awkward smile on his face. Taking Dustin’s smaller hand in your own, you smile and introduce yourself, unable to keep the hint of confusion out of your words.
“I’m Steve’s best friend.” The curly-headed boy explains, gesturing over his shoulder and Steve’s smile gets a little more awkward. He feels a smidge nervous considering there’s no telling what will fall out of Henderson’s mouth next. Steve’s a little relieved when it’s a typical plea for a ride, spinning back round to him.
“Andddd as my best friend, he’ll be totally happy to drive me to the Byers’ right now. Robin can handle the store for 10 minutes without you, can’t ya Robin?”
He slides the tape he’s grabbed onto the counter as he says it, a silent ask to check it out. Likely under Steve’s account which Dustin says it’s for the employee discount — which makes Steve scoff, considering he pays for it anyways.
All eyes move to Robin who freezes at the sudden attention, papers paused mid-shuffle in her twitchy hands. She narrows her eyes at Dustin and you find yourself watching Steve as he has a silent exchange with the girl — another halfhearted shrug that means he’s happy to take him if she doesn’t mind.
Robin swipes the tape and types the details into the computer hastily, waving them both off. “Yeah, yeah. y/n can always get behind the counter, worst-case scenario.”
Dustin fist-pumps, taking the tape back from Robin as she hands it over. He heads to the door and calls out to you as he goes, “And you’d look better than Steve in the vest too!”
It makes you laugh when Steve scowls, sidling up to you to lean over the counter and snatch up his car keys. He pauses, eyes roaming your face and looking as though he wants to say something to you.
“Steve!” Dustin’s voice pierces the glass and you look to see him waiting on the top step, hands raised, expression unimpressed. 
Steve sighs, muttering the word dickhead under his breath and then he’s out the door.
Fact #3: You may have misjudged Steve Harrington.
It’s been just over a week since seeing Dustin in the store with Steve and though you’d never admit it aloud, it has shifted the way you see Steve.
A minuscule shift, you huff to yourself, tiny and not enough to completely dissolve your built in dislike for the Harrington boy. But you find the thought worming into your brain frequently, tripping over it in surprise when you realise you’re thinking of him again. 
It’s just… it didn’t make sense.
Just like the flirting, it didn’t compute in your brain unless you rationalized it back to some asshole motive.
But Dustin had introduced himself as Steve’s best-friend, which was sort of weird enough on its own but you figured it had to be some insane trauma bonding from the mall fire. 
Even if they had been the same age, Dustin didn’t seem like the company you’d expect Steve to keep— but neither was Robin, you thought after a moment of contemplation.
Robin’s knowing grin outside Family Video a couple of weeks ago that screamed i told you so floats up in your memory; you might have to concede she was maybe, potentially, just a little bit right. 
The thoughts weigh on your mind as you wait in the kitchen for Steve’s car to pull into your driveway. A couple months ago you would have outright refused to accept a ride from King Steve and you still weren’t sure if you thanked him for his generosity tonight, whether it would come out snarky or genuine. 
But he did offer, unasked.
You and Robin wanted to see a rerun screening of The Rocky Horror Picture Show that was showing a few towns over. Robin couldn’t drive and neither could you, which meant when she’d seen the poster, it had only been a fleeting moment of excitement before you realised you didn’t have any means of travel.
She must have been moping about it at work that day because it was sometime in the evening after she got off work that your phone rang and she nearly shrieked down the line that Steve would take you both. 
So, here you were; waiting for Steve to pick you up. 
God, even the sentence sounded odd in your head. A flash of amber headlights on the street grabs your attention and before you can delve into the flip of your stomach, you duck out of the house and slip into Steve’s car. 
You take the front seat. Mainly because it would be too weird to get in the back, as though he was your chauffeur — though you suppose for tonight, he is. Steve smiles when you get in and you find it easy to mimic it. Gravel crunches as his tires pull away from the curb, gathering speed as he heads for Robin’s house. 
Eyes out the window, you don’t see how he steals glances at you every couple of moments. The air feels tinged with awkwardness and Steve swallows, wondering if he’s allowed to break it. You’ve been a little warmer to him — I mean, hell, you just offered him a smile.
As he pulls the car up in front of Robin’s house, engine idling, he pushes out a breath and dredges up his courage.
Yes, in the beginning, the compliments were because he wanted you to not see him and scowl. Tonight, it’s because you look beautiful and he wants you to know it.
“You look—” Oh god, and now you’re looking at him, eyes a little wide before they narrow in suspicion. “—uh, pretty.” 
“What?” 
“I mean, you always look pretty!” He amends. “But, y’know, you look lovely tonight. Pretty.” Stop talking.
“P-Pretty lovely.” It falls off his tongue in haste, delivered so terribly he’s surprised he doesn’t cringe immediately after. God, it was like whatever flirting skills he had flew out the window with you. 
“No, Harrington, I mean— why do you keep saying these things?” 
Steve feels utterly lost, shown on his face as he blinks, once, twice, and doesn’t say anything. Your insecurity bubbles up, mixed with anger at the thought he might indeed be messing with you. 
“I don’t know if this is funny to you, to- to like, joke that you like my clothes or- or to pretend to think that I’m pretty but it’s not. And I—” 
“Woah, wait — who said I was joking?” Incredulity taints each word, his brows pulled high in surprise. Steve’s stomach twists, feeling his heart recoil at the complete seriousness in your words — you think he’s been making fun of you. 
“Well, why else would you call me pretty?” You ask pointedly, crossing your arms over your chest. 
“Because you are?” It’s faint, Steve’s voice suddenly a lot softer. 
You’re not sure you can contain the ripple of emotions on your face, his words sticking you in the throat so you have to swallow thickly. It’s like a switch is flipped, each compliment of the last couple of weeks shifting into a new meaning in your mind.
It’s overwhelming and you find yourself searching Steve’s face desperately, drinking in his sincere expression, brows drawn together as he offers a weak smile. Fuck, you think and along with it, dozens of apologies fester and churn — god, you’d been so rude and—
“Um, backseat please!” A sharp knock at your window scares you, nearly jumping out of your skin and breaking your focus on Steve. When you turn, Robin’s standing on the sidewalk, bent at the waist to peer at you through the glass. You stare at her dumbly for a moment til she wiggles her eyebrows with a grin and it makes you crack a smile, finally reeling yourself in enough to move. 
Unclipping your belt, you’re rather thankful to be shoved to the back of the car. Hidden in the dark, you shift to take the seat behind Steve. Your eyes spy a sliver of his neck, exposed skin about the collar of his jacket and it fixates you for a moment. 
Because you are? Steve’s words follow you, plaguing you in the shadows of the backseat — you purposefully ignore how it makes your heart sing ever-so-slightly.
Fact #4: Bradley O’Connor is not to be trusted.
“Guess who came into my work today?”
It’s said all gleeful, your hands gripping the counter as you nearly launch yourself over it in your excitement. On the other side stands Robin, doodling in her notebook — or she had been, til your arrival had been announced by the door chime, her ‘Welcome to Family Video!’ cut off by your sudden commotion.
“Um,” Robin begins indignantly, brows raised high. “Half of Hawkins? You work at Bradley’s Best Buy y/n, like the whole town shops there.”
Her sarcasm bounces off you, undeterred in your good mood; it was like the sun was shining just for you today. You didn’t even mind Steve obviously listening in on you two, his hands frozen above the keyboard as he eavesdropped from his seat at the computer.
“Yeah, speaking of Bradley’s...” you grinned at Robin, hoping your hint was enough. It was, her expression shifting into something more enthusiastic.
“Bradley Bradley?”
You nod at her question, your teeth sinking into your bottom lip in an attempt to contain your giddy grin. But it’s hard when your long-term high school crush Bradley O’Connor came through your till, flirted like there was no tomorrow, and insisted you jot your number on his receipt.
He didn’t even seem to care that you worked at a supermarket. You knew well that he and all his friends lived in the cushy tax bracket which meant the first job they ever worked would be after college. Kids like you and Robin, stuck working hours in dead-end jobs to help pay rent, were often easy pickings for teasing.
It just made you lean into your naive feelings more, swooning at the fact he didn’t care. You had been too elated in your feelings to notice the piles of his friends waiting outside the store; if you had, it might’ve made you more cautionary.
“Bradley O’Connor?” Steve butts in, swiveling in his chair to question you. The way Steve says his name, tinged in disbelief, makes you narrow your eyes.
“Is that so hard to believe?” You say defensively and chose to not acknowledge Robin’s deep sigh. Eyes widening, Steve splutters for a moment as he shakes his head.
“What? No, not like that! I just mean—him? Really?”
You can’t quite pick what’s hiding in his voice, eyes instead following Robin as she whirls around and delivers a glower that makes Steve reconsider his tone, swallowing.
“I mean—” He starts again, clearing his throat, cheeks a titch pink now. “I didn’t realise he was... your type.”
You stare at Steve, your expression skeptical as you try to pull apart whatever the hell that was supposed to mean. When you can’t figure it out in a moment, you ignore the comment and turn back to Robin and ignore it.
“Asked for my number.” You lean closer to Robin, wiggling your brows as you lead her along the excitement you’d felt earlier today. “Insisted on it actually.”
Robin’s brows manage to raise even higher, nearly disappearing into her hairline and you’d be a bit offended if her grin didn’t match your own.
“Oh. My. God.” She says, her pen punching down on the pages of her notebook to punctuate each word. “Oh my god.”
You don’t bother trying to hold back your grin, nodding along, some form of a squeal escaping you — it vaguely occurs to you should rein it in with Steve listening in, but you can’t find it in yourself to curb your feelings for his sake.
“Finally!” Robin manages to break her script of oh my god’s. “You’ve only liked him for—what? Two years?”
You flush automatically at the admission, your grin becoming a grimace as you shoot a glare at your best friend. She means well, but you’re not exactly lining up to let Steve Harrington in on all your secrets.
Your eyes flit over to where he sits, still watching the conversation. As if he can read your unease, he mimes turning a lock over his lips and tosses the key behind him blindly in an exaggerated motion. You’re in a good enough mood that it makes you laugh lightly, breaking back into a smile and comforted that at the very least, Steve won’t go ratting out your affections.
“Hey, as happy as I am for you, aren’t you supposed to be helping your Mom today?”
Like a bubble bursting, Robin reminds you that, alas, the world exists outside the perfect moment of exchanging digits over the cash register at work. Your eyes widen, a little horrified as you spin around and squint at the clock on the wall. Shit.
“Shit.” You verbalize the thought and you’re out the door before you remember to call out your goodbyes. 
Steve watches you go, your purple wind-breaker flapping behind you wildly as you all but sprint around the corner and out of sight. It’s a bit too comical and he can’t help but chuckle. The sound draws Robin’s attention and all too suddenly, Steve feels as though he’s been caught doing something wrong as she whirls around to face him.
For a moment, they just stare at each other. Steve wonders if he’ll have to remind her that despite the jokes they both make, he can’t actually read her mind.
She breaks the silence. “What was that?”
“What was what?” It’s genuine confusion, Steve’s head tilting to the right an inch.
“I didn’t realise he was your type.” Robin mocks, her voice high pitch and hands gesturing somehow sarcastically. “That! What was that?”
Steve frowns, defensiveness creeping up in his tone. “That was nothing!”
Okay, so, that sounded way less casual than he hoped. Steve clears his throat, spinning on his seat to face the computer again. It was nothing. Robin was being a vulture, picking at remains, picking at nothing — absolutely nothing.
“Nothing at all.” He mutters, beginning to type again and Robin snorts behind him, voice still doused in sarcasm.
“Mm, for my own sake, I’m gonna ignore the fact you’re clearly interested in her.”
Steve hits a wrong key in his surprise, an annoyed beep! coming from the computer. It sums up how he’s feeling. He turns his head back to Robin, brows furrowed as he shakes his head. “What? No, no way.”
“Yes, way.”
“Robin, no. Even if I did—not that I do but even if I— look, I’m not stupid enough to get a crush on someone who hates me.”
This puts out the fiery retorts for just a moment, Robin dimming as she recalls the bitterness you harbor for Steve. Well, harbored — she knows you back to front and she’s willing to bet money that if you stopped hating him for just a second, you’d probably like the guy.
“She doesn’t know you.” She lands on eventually, features softening as she recalls the bitterness on Steve’s face whenever some idiot from high school dragged up his past — usually, in an attempt to humiliate him.
“Look, I’m not interested in her.” Steve reiterates, though a little weak, waving his hands wildly as if it will help drive the point home. “Not gonna happen. Never gonna happen. “
The door rattles as it’s opened by a new customer. Robin and Steve both cease their conversation immediately, turning to greet automatically — and who should it be Bradley O’Connor, himself. He doesn’t spare a glance at the front counter, sauntering straight into the action movie aisle.
“In fact,” Steve begins, an idea formulating in his mind. He spins back to Robin with a grin. “I’ll happily help her get her next date.”
“Steve, don’t—“
Steve ignores her protest, sidling out from behind the counter and tracking Bradley down to where the rom-com section starts.
“Welcome to Family Video!” It’s a bit cheery and it makes the boy jump in surprise, surprised by the new voice. Steve continues. “Anything I can help you with today?”
Bradley chuckles stiffly, a little affronted at the enthusiasm Steve’s to help a customer. He clocks the double take he does, the glance down at Steve’s name badge giving away that Bradley’s well aware of who he is. Exhaling, Steve hopes he won’t bring it up.
It looks as though Bradley weighs something up in his head, taking another once over at Steve before he speaks. “Yeah, actually. You know what movies chicks dig?” 
Steve can tell in the way Bradley says the word chicks that he’s an asshole. Not thinking of girls as people, more like scores: notches in his belt. It makes him tick, jaw clenching.
But he was like that once. Nancy Wheeler had found a genuine spot in him and coaxed it out. You — you could do the same.
So, Steve says, “Yeah, man. Anyone in particular? Usually depends on the girl, honestly.” 
Bradley sniffs, one hand nudging under his nose as he skirts his gaze around the store. He lands on Robin, who thankfully, doesn’t look like she’s trying to eavesdrop at that exact moment.
“Do ya know y/l/n?” He jerks his chin in the direction of Robin. “Buckley’s friend?”
Steve nods, glad at the easy segue; now, all he had to do was talk you up. And Steve Harrington was nothing if not a flatterer. He halts a moment later with a frown, realising what a noncommittal date it was. You deserved better than that, Steve thought.
“y/n? You can’t just rent out a film for a girl like that. She’s a total catch, dude— you gotta do the whole nine yards, yanno? Cinema, popcorn, be a gentleman and all.”
He pairs his suggestion with a usual charming smile, crossing his arms across his broad chest. Bradley seems to pick up on the extra interest and his brows quirk up.
“You got like, a thing for her or something?”
His pink cheeks nearly give him away. Steve, to his credit, manages to not blunder his next response. It’s almost like Robin’s line of fire earlier prepped him for this moment. 
“Nah,” he replies, coolly. “She’s just a friend.”
The next words are a little less casual, Steve straightening up as a surprising amount of protectiveness curls in his gut. “And as her friend, I’m just looking out for her.”
Bradley swallows, breaking eye-contact as if Steve could puzzle out his ill intentions if he looked long enough.
“So, be nice and take her out all proper.” Steve lets it sit in the air for a moment, then smiles, a polite way that’s well practiced in his line of work. “Can I get anything else for you?”
It might be the quickest customer Robin’s ever checked out, with Bradley managing to get the film rented and be out the door in under 2 minutes.
Thankfully, Robin is chuckling when he wanders back behind the counter. He had been harboring a thread of anxiety, worried he had really overstepped by thinking he knew best — it wouldn’t be the first time he’d done it. On top of that, Steve really doesn’t want this to bite him in the ass, especially considering it was to help you. 
“Don’t—” Robin starts, a smile curling her lips. “—let this go to your head, but that wasn’t nearly half bad.” 
Steve tries not to feel smug, settling instead on pleasantly content. He was in your good books after this, for sure.
When you call the store from home, wire twisted in your fingers and talking loud enough in your excitement that Steve could hear it from beside Robin, she makes sure to mention the good word he put in for you.
Fact #5: If you call Steve Harrington from a pay-phone on a Friday night, he’ll pick up.
The bleak cold of the night air isn’t anything compared to the shame that’s building in your chest. You’re trying your best to ignore it, to not give in to your anxious doubts — what did Bradley say on the phone?
It was supposed to be a movie night at his place — that was what he’d suggested when he toyed with your feelings at work, a handsome smirk on his face. You’d tried not to sound disgruntled at the hurried change in plans, instead trying to lean into your excitement that tonight went from casual to a definite date.
Bradley O’Connor didn’t just invite anyone to the movies with him. And he’d said 7 on the phone, you huffed to yourself.
7 o’clock. The showing of Ferris Bueller’s Day Off that was playing at Hawk cinema. Though, he did sound a bit distracted on the phone, his voice sounding distant.
You glance at the clock above the ticket booth. 7.13pm.
Heaving a sigh, you tuck your coat closer around yourself and wonder how long you should wait before it goes from sad to truly pathetic.
Five more minutes, you think, Give him five more minutes.
Because you hopelessly want his flirts, his coy smile, and charming winks to be real; you want to be swept up in a teenage daydream and have it all work out for you for once.
You swallow, picking at your fingers as you dredge up your hopes, convincing yourself he’s coming — because if he doesn’t...it means Steve and his confused tone were fucking right. That Bradley wasn’t the type to go for your type.
You shouldn’t have waited the five extra minutes.
Technically, you think bitterly, you were right. Bradley does show up.
You’re stepping out, wondering if you should brave the walk home in the dark — but a familiar group of raucous boys in Letterman jackets heading for the cinema freeze you in your tracks.
“Holy shit, she actually came.”
It’s not said kind, not in awed disbelief as you’d hoped. It’s cruel — jeering explodes in the group of boys, unkind laughs and snickers resounding off the bricks as they smack each other, all in on the joke. The realisation sinks into your stomach, staining it black.
Bradley looks smugly satisfied — a pompous conceited piece of shit that you should’ve known better than to believe.
You don’t even want to look at him, a hot sting of tears burning behind your eyes. You don’t want to give him a chance to taunt you. Your feet take you forward, barging through the group and smacking your shoulder against Bradley’s shoulder, hard. You hope it hurts.
“Tell Harrington thanks for the suggestion to take you to the movies!” He calls after you like he knows how it rubs salt into the wound. It does; it stings maybe more than the initial humiliation. “Guess he’s not an idiot all of the time!”
The boys laugh, a series of oohs that finally break your floodgate. Tears streak, hot and fast, and you brush them off before they reach your chin, sniffling. Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck!
The humiliation is coating you, sticky and clinging like a fog and you squeeze your eyes closed as you inhale quickly. You round the corner fast, feet not stopping til you’re at least four blocks from the cinema, further downtown.
You feel dumb. Scratch that, you feel like a fucking idiot.
A stray tear escapes without permission and the next thought is that you want to go home. Blurry eyes scanning the street, you clock the phone booth and head for it, fueled by the urgency of your thoughts: get home, then fall apart.
The glass is cold as you push the door open, creaking and weathered. You close the door and turn, staring at the phone. Who do you call?
Your mom is the first thought. She’d driven you in — though, you’d told her you’d get a lift home with Bradley since he had a car. You’re not up for the coddling you’ll get when she sees the state of you in the slightest. Besides, she’d mentioned heading to a friends for the evening.
Robin is the next thought. And you would, except she can’t drive so all she’d do is ply you with a combination of questions and furious insults directed at Bradley.
Your next thought...No.
You sigh, leaning your head against the glass, not caring about how grimy it might be, and smack your head against it a couple of times. No, no way were you about to call Steve Harrington for a lift.
Not when he fucking set you up. Not when he’d just taken the shred of trust you’d granted him and torn it up immediately. Especially not after crying because you believed a date like that with a guy like Bradley O’Connor was genuine.
You were not calling Steve.
The Harrington household number is easy to find in the paper phone book.
It’s under Steve’s father’s name, some prick with big money who’d likely report you to the police for harassment if he picked up the phone. You stare at it and then at the phone, a frown set on your brow as you weigh it up.
Steve didn’t work Friday night — you know, because it used to be a night to go visit Robin, back when you avoided Steve.
A stray thought floats up, bringing back the words of Robin on the phone as she had celebrated the news. It’s a bitter memory now, made entirely worse as you recall what she had said. Steve talked you up, her voice crackled down the wire, when O’Connor came in. Put in a good word for you.
A new emotion surges in your chest and you’re relieved to shrug off some humiliation for anger. God, you feel even more stupid for thinking Steve would’ve actually talked you up.
As you punch in the number, the keypad taking a bit of a beating, you huff and think at the very least, he can owe you a ride for ruining your evening.
“Harrington residence, this is Steve.”
“Harrington.” You spit it out with venom. On the other side of the phone, Steve recoils a bit, surprised at the tone.
“y/n? I thought you were—”
“I’m on Cavendish Boulevard, right by Tony’s. Come pick me up.” It’s fierce and clipped. You don’t really want to unleash your anger on the phone, lest he leaves you stranded and you have to ring around your mother’s friends just to find her. You just want to go home.
Steve makes a noise of confusion over the phone, a bit slow on the uptake. “But I thought tonight was—”
“Harrington.” you say again, a little softer, your emotions leaking into your voice involuntarily. Fuck, you sound pathetic but in the moment you can’t bring yourself to care. You plead, “Please.”
“I’m coming,” He says, voice indicating he’s caught on to why you might be calling. “Yeah, I’m coming, just sit tight.”
Fact #6: When Steve Harrington says he ‘knows a spot’, he doesn’t always mean Skull Rock. 
You’re angry.
That much Steve can tell. Steve’s reminded too much of the last ride he gave you when you pop the door, sliding almost uncomfortably into the passenger seat and turning your clenched jaw towards the window.
Unrest torments Steve’s head, unsure if he’s gained enough trust to ask what went wrong this evening. On the other hand, you had called him. At the very least, you trusted him to come and get you.
The tires groan as he drives out of Tony’s parking lot, the hood of the car dipping to the gutter and rolling out onto the quiet roads.
“Am I allowed to ask what happened?” Steve drives slow so his eyes can flick over to you, watching the way you smooth your hands down your thighs, a self-soothing motion. It makes his chest twinge, a tad more worry than he’s probably warranted to considering you are barely friends. If that.
“Depends.” you finally turn to face him, a pinch in your eyebrows. “What did you say to Bradley?”
Steve detects the cynicism of your question in a heartbeat. Even though he knows he was all charm, Robin even affirmed it, he still rehashes the conversation, scrutinizing it for what he had said wrong.
You take his silence as admittance. Scoffing lightly, you focus back out the window, eyes boring into the streets. You’re in the middle of a mutter, something like I was so right about you when Steve manages to find his voice.
“I—” Shyness has crept up inside, Steve suddenly worried you’ll find his comments odd and not endearing. Worse, you’ll think he’s being in-genuine again. You’re just quiet, waiting. “I told him that he should take you to the cinema, instead of just renting a film. That you deserved a better— a proper date.”
He shoots a look in your direction, trying to see how you take in the words. Your shoulders have bunched up stiffly, your body turning further away but he can still see the furrow in your brow, angry emotions emitting out in every direction from you — you don’t believe him.
“I swear,” He continues, more desperate to prove himself. “I said something about— that you were a catch and- and you can ask Robin, I swear to—”
“Steve, stop.”
Horror churns through his gut when Steve realises you’re crying, soft tears dripping off your cheeks. As if you can sense he’s about to talk again, ready to rattle off his insistence, you speak before him.
“If I believe you,” you inhale shakily, pushing your palms into your eyes hard. You don’t want to cry in front of Steve. “If you’re telling the truth, then that means...”
Your teeth chew on your lip, hiding its quiver as you relive the humiliation of earlier all over again. “It means, I was actually stupid enough to believe him.”
Painfully, Steve can feel the embarrassment rolling off you in waves as you bury your face away. He swears under his breath. He’d detected asshole from Bradley two words in but this? This was not even in the ballpark of what he’d considered happening tonight. How fucking childish to ask someone out as a joke.
You seem to be slipping into a ramble, uncaring that you’re pouring your feelings out to Steve — Steve who you hate, or at least you did. Steve who you were ready to verbally pummel a minute ago. Steve who is looking at you so gingerly that you might consider he actually cares about you.
“He- all his friends were there.” You admit, words wobbling and tone revealing your utter mortification. “It was just a big fucking joke.” 
For a minute, the car is silent; you stare at the road and watch it get swallowed beneath the car.
“I’m— I’m so fucking sorry.” Steve starts again, feeling like he’s managed to take one step forward and fifteen backward with you. He squeezes his eyes shut for a moment. “I had no idea he would do that, I swear, I wouldn’t have—“
He cuts himself off, apparently out of words to say, or taking your silence as a cue to shut up. His apology sits in the silence and you know now, he means it. Bradley’s smugness compared to Steve’s sincerity leaves no contest; you’d been too in your own head to realise you’d muddled them up.
You’re faintly aware that Steve has been driving absently, guzzling up gas so you can have a moment suspended away from reality. But he seems to grip the wheel tighter, with more purpose, and instead of looping the block again, Steve picks a route.
You wipe under your eyes again, sniffling through your clogged throat. “Where are we going?”
Steve adjusts his grip on the steering wheel, throwing a glance at you.
“Where I go when I’m upset.”
A snarky retort rises in your mind on instinct, the hurt part that wants to lash out, make someone hurt like you’re hurting. You think about saying something like what does rich, popular Steve Harrington get upset about? when he says, “Helped me a lot after the, uh, the mall fire.”
You swallow the words on your tongue and guilt stains your throat.
It’s a short drive; Steve drives so comfortably that you question how many times he’s traced this route. Too plagued by horrid memories, forced into his car and driving until he’s tired enough to sleep without nightmares.
You can’t say you’re expecting the stretch of road that crawls out to Skull Rock. For a moment you regard him, wondering if he’s daft enough to try to get lucky right now. But the car veers off track, driving down a less traveled path.
He doesn’t stop til you’re surrounded by timber trunks — there’s not much room to open your door when Steve puts the car into park.
Normally, you make a witty comment — “You didn’t bring me out here to kill me, right? I can’t see how that would make me feel any better.” — but you bite your tongue. You feel too downbeat to be witty now.
Steve rounds the car and pops the trunk, leaning over it with one hand still gripping the top. He rummages for a moment, moving junk around til he pulls out a couple of items: a baseball bat, some bag that clinks noisily, and a few other items, stuffed quickly into the bag. He tucks the baseball bat under his arm.
“C’mon,” he murmurs and waves you to follow him, after shutting the trunk and locking the car. Again, you’re eerily aware that this route is well-familiar to Steve. You stumble to keep up, eyes on your feet so you don’t get a face full of dirt.
Eventually, the trees give way to a clearing littered with various junk, glittering broken glass all around making Steve tell you to watch where you step.
He makes his way towards a rotten tree trump in the centre of the clearing, poorly cut and barely a flat surface on it. Still, Steve digs around in the bag and fishes out an empty beer bottle. You think you can guess where he’s going with this.
Carefully, he manages to balance it on a slanted surface and as expected, he draws the bat out from under his arm and offers it to you.
The wood is warm from being pressed against his side and you curl your fingers around it, sapping it into your hands. He digs around in the bag for another moment, revealing a pair of safety glasses — damn, he’s really prepared.
Steve unfolds them and steps closer, offering them out to you — but you don’t remove your hands from the bat, instead jutting out your chin to indicate for him to put them on for you.
It makes him pause. Steve regards you for a moment, eyes unsure before he steps even closer.
It steals your breath, the intensity of his gaze as he pushes the glasses up your nose, his fingers tracing along the rims and down the arms of the glasses, tucking any stray hair behind your ears. It’s oddly intimate, watching him through the plastic, his expression focused, breath fanning over your face. He looks handsome — the shadows cutting his jawline nicely and you can smell his cologne when he’s this close.
When he steps back, you have to remind yourself to breathe — the scent of him still swirls in your chest.
Even though you know what he’s brought you here for — the bottle, the bat, the open junkyard already doused in broken litter — you still don’t make a move.
Steve gestures to the bottle. “Hit it. Hard as you can.”
It’s a soft instruction; you know if you wanted, you could turn around and he’d drive you all the way home, no questions asked. But then you’d spend the rest of your evening drowning your sorrows, wallowing in a pint of ice-cream and sniffling over the phone to Robin.
You turn to face the bottle, lifting the bat, and readying your grip.
Holy shit, she actually came.
The bat connects fast with the bottle, a loud crash pistoling off and filling the clearing — the brown glass dissolves into the night, pieces are thrown in every direction and you’re suddenly very grateful for the safety glasses.
You heave in a breath, surprised by how that felt. It’s thrilling. You whip around to look at Steve and choke on a laugh at what you see — he’s put on a ridiculous pair of sunglasses.
They’re not at all the usual stylish ones he’s worn to parties before. It’s likely didn’t want that pair damaged but still needed to protect his eyes. Instead, these pair look like women’s sunglasses, with big wide round frames. It’s a bizarre sight, Steve Harrington is women’s sunglasses, at night-time no less.
“Nice glasses.” The tease falls off your lips instinctively, a laugh contained in the words. 
Back to poking fun at him — a definite sign you’re feeling better. He sighs, playing it up, popping his hip, and planting his hands on his sides.
“Yeah, yeah,” Steve says, but he’s smiling. “Be thankful I gave you the cool ones. Normally, it’s just me up here anyways.”
It’s somewhat of a lie. He’d bought two pairs of the safety glasses, one for Robin as well, but she hadn’t liked the loud noises of broken glass when he brought her with him.
But Steve thought the stupid oversized glasses his mom had tried to dump — he was going to offer them to Robin but it had slipped his mind — would be a better choice. You wouldn’t be thinking about fucking O’Connor if he’s in women’s sunglasses.
It’s surprisingly effective; a giggle titters out of you again and you cover your mouth as if it’ll help hide the sound. You’re a bit bewildered at how easy it feels to laugh so soon.
Steve pushes the glasses up onto the top of his head, his hair sticking up at odd angles and he narrows his eyes at you. His smile gives him away. He bends and roots through the bag, finding another bottle for you to smash. The sunnies slip back down to cover his eyes as he sets up the next one. 
It wobbles precariously on the stump but you don’t wait for it to settle, baseball bat swinging and shattering it in a second.
“Fuck!” You scream and the curse is swallowed up in the splintering sound of glass. Steve whoops, looking almost like a suburban mom, cheering from the sidelines. The scream helped — hell, swinging with all your might and channeling your rage into demolishing a bottle was definitely helping. You don’t feel upset, you feel enraged.
The stump isn’t empty for long, Steve dutifully scoops up another bottle and places it out for you. He pauses, sunglasses back in his hair, and points at the bottle as he fixes you with a determined look.
“This one’s O’Connor.”
You meet his eyes, his brows knitted together and an expression that says he wants you to destroy it because he’s angry with you — angry for you. He steps back.
When you hit it, an earsplitting crack thunders out. The bottle fractures,  fragments careening off in every direction. A wild grin sweeps across your face, knowing that whatever comes at school next week— whether Bradley went back to ignoring your existence or used tonight as fuel for taunting — you could just picture how you felt as you shattered that bottle.
“That felt good.” You breathe out, turning back to Steve. Your teeth graze your bottom lip, sinking in to stop from grinning like a lunatic. A delirious laugh wrestles itself out of your chest and you let your head drop back, eyes turning up at the inky sky, laughs petering out.
Steve tries to ignore how the sound lights up his chest like a Christmas tree, some part of him burning with glee with the knowledge you’re feeling better because of something he did.
He watches your gaze rove across the sky, searching for something he doesn’t know. He’s not sure if he should dig out the next bottle or whether this was it — that now, he’d take you home now and he’d be back to just a brief hint of a smile from you if that.
Head dropping forward, you offer back the baseball bat and Steve’s heart sinks.
Reining in his dejection so it doesn’t show, Steve takes it from you and pulls a polite smile; at the very least, he’ll get some credit with Robin for cheering up her best friend.
As he moves to tuck it under his arm, he freezes at your own motions. You’re bending down, rummaging through the bag, and scoring a bottle — this time, a big champagne bottle, left on the bench from the last time his parents had been home. Four? No, five days ago.
You plant it on the stump, hands hovering around it as it quivers for a moment, only dropping them when the bottle finally settles. You step back, look at him and Steve finally understands what you’re doing.
Surprise sprouts in his chest, his lips parting. You’re giving him a turn?
“Well?”
He’s been gawking a bit, he realises and Steve remembers to close his mouth. He shifts the bat out from under his arm and then pulls the sunglasses off his head. He offers them to you, with a nod.
“Swap. I’ll miss the bottle completely with these on.”
“But that’ll make me laugh.” You point out, tone cheeky as you pass them over regardless.
Steve slides them on, a dramatic eye-roll as he steps up to swing. He’s usually only here when his anger is feeling uncontrollable, like hot lava boiling over and burning him from the inside out. He’s calmer tonight, with no emotions running rampant — well, maybe not any bad ones at least.
He scrounges his brain to think of what’s annoyed him this week; Keith, as always. The champagne bottle on the stump, the only bitter evidence his parents had been home in the last week. The agonizing wobble in your voice as you’d cried in the passenger seat of his car.
There’s a familiar burn in his muscles when he swings, another bottle sacrificed to anger and destined to a life scattered in the dirt. You whoop loudly, just as he had, and Steve can understand why you’d laughed at the sight of him in those sunglasses. They’re huge and you look nearly bug-like, shiny round domes of black staring back at him.
“Nice glasses.” He grins cheekily, a copy of your own words. He doesn’t need to see your eyes to know you’re rolling them at him.
The bat and safety glasses get passed between you two, equal turns until the bottles run out. Steve’s only sorry he didn’t bring more, drinking in the giddy and wild grin that overcomes your face when another bottle meets its fate.
When you pack it in and stumble back to his car, Steve revels in the closeness you seemed to have gained. No longer three steps behind, your shoulders brush his on the walk and when you stumble over a root, your hand shoots out and grips his arm, steadying yourself. You hold it for a moment longer than you should.
The skin of your hand still tingles as you slide into the passenger seat. The air of the car is more comfortable now, cozy even, as Steve cranks the heat and the trees pass you in a blur as you drive out. Bruce Springsteen’s Hungry Heart is warbling on the radio, the volume turned low and you can’t help but stare at him.
You were so wrong about him.
You were so astronomically wrong about him; it’s the only thing you can think of as you drive home, amber streetlights illuminating the streets of Hawkins. The clock on the dash reads 9.57pm — meaning you’ve been with Steve for nearly two hours. The fact nearly draws an awed sort of laugh, but you press it down til it’s only a smile, hidden as you turn back to the window.
He drops you off by 10.14pm, insisting on buying you a milkshake to complete the night.
Honest, I get one after every time I smash shit. It’s hard work you just did! He’d said as he ordered. One chocolate shake for you, one vanilla, for him. You gotta, like, replace electrolytes and all. The fact you don’t think he’s said it to make you laugh, makes you laugh even harder.
The milkshakes sustain the silence on the final drive home and you quickly understand immediately the importance of the shake. After all the frustration, the sugar is near soothing as the cold sweet dances on your tongue. 
The engine idles as Steve brings the car to a halt by the curb outside your house. You eye it, astonished by your reluctance to end the evening and you wonder if Steve can tell.
You don’t know if you want him to notice it or not; reading into your hesitancy feels like a whole new can of worms. The porch light is on, waiting for you.
Home. What you’ve been yearning for since 7.15pm this evening — finally, the roller-coaster of emotions has wrung you out and tiredness seeps into your bones. But you can’t leave without a goodbye. Not without telling Steve what tonight meant to you. 
“Thank you.”
You don’t mean to murmur it, but it’s nearly a whisper as you take your eyes off the house to turn to Steve in the driver’s seat.
Steve somehow manages to soften more at the quiet words, an easy smile pulling on his lips. He nods. It means of course like you don’t even have to thank him for it. The car purrs beneath you, filling the silence with a quiet rumble.
You want to say it again, louder because it’s not just a thank-you — it’s thank you, I’m sorry, I was wrong about you, can we start over? I hated you for the longest time but do you ever think you could like me?
The last thought punches a breath out of you and it sets you in motion. You couldn’t be having those thoughts; not with the tension in the air, his closeness so enticing now you’ve tasted it once. You couldn’t be having those thoughts at all.
You’re on the sidewalk, about to close the door before you remember to squeak out a ‘goodnight!’. The walk to your door is short enough that you shouldn’t feel the cold of the night —  besides, you’re too warm inside, emotions churning wildly to notice anyways.
It doesn’t help when you reach the porch and peek over your shoulder, the maroon BMW still waiting by the curb, amber headlights shining, for you to make it inside okay.
Fact #7: You’re way too wasted right now.
You’d started with vodka and that had been, what? An hour ago.
An hour ago when O’Connor had made his entrance with his buddies, stupid cheers erupted from the crowd of high schoolers that were stupid enough to worship the likes of him.
Or maybe, you’re the stupid one for hoping you wouldn’t see him tonight.
But if the open invite to Melody Carter’s house for a late-night Saturday party meant the likes of you and Robin could come, of fucking course O’Connor would be there.
You had been only planning on one more drink, the one you’d been pouring when O’Connor showed face, but his smirk across the room had you finishing it instantly. It burned as you swallowed it down, your hands already moving to pour more liquor into your cup.
Two more shots down of — what was it? The label tells you it’s tequila — and you’re thoroughly drunk. Which, honestly, might not be a great move considering the number of people at this party. There are a lot of people here.
What had started as a party for only the senior year had quickly snowballed, kids older and younger showing up. Hell, you were pretty sure you’d seen Aaron Bright pass through the front door, a boy two years out of high school.
Did that mean Steve was coming?
Oh-kay, that had to be the tequila speaking.
But once the thought is in your head, it spins out, unstoppable, careening and building up your hopes before you remember to crush them. You weren’t hanging out to see Steve; quite the opposite in fact.
The bottle-smashing adventure you’d shared with him had been just over a week ago and maybe your thoughts had strayed to him a couple of times. A couple of times might be putting it lightly.
You just— you didn’t know how to act around him anymore.
Without the shield of ‘Steve Harrington is a douchebag’ to give a reason for your scowls, you had to admit he was utterly charming.
You couldn’t tell if it was the shift in your own perception or if Steve really was this nice, each sentence flirty or teasing — either way, it meant you were as good as reduced to blundering through any interaction with him.
So, naturally, you’d resorted to avoiding Family Video instead, which, hey, might not have been your best idea.
Robin had tracked you down after you didn’t show up to two of her evening shifts to hang. Gossip flowed as you divulged her in your Friday night, the prank O’Connor had pulled, and the subsequent tears that had followed. With a guilty smile, you let Robin get wrapped up in her anger and forgive your absences — too distracted to even ask how you’d gotten home.
Technically, you hadn’t lied. You had just... omitted certain facts.
Besides, you were feeling confused enough about Steve all on your own. You had no doubt that adding Robin, the mutual best friend between you two, and her opinion would make it all the messier.
Or maybe she’ll tell you what you don’t want to hear. Something in your head whispers, the tequila burning a little fouler in your stomach. That you can’t have him. That she knows him and he would never want you.
For good measure, you chase down one more shot.
And that’s how Steve finds you — wasted out in the back garden of a party.
Robin had invited him, halfheartedly during one of their shifts. Honestly, a high school party had very little appeal to him — most parties had no appeal after the events that had transpired in the last couple of years.
But Robin had been a bit adamant as she realised he didn’t have a date lined up like he usually did. He’d winced as she connected the dots, counting on her fingers that it had been nearly two months since he’d used his weekend for social plans. That is, excluding hanging with Robin.
The fact he stopped going on dates round bout the same time you stopped completely ignoring him was completely unrelated. But Steve was glad Robin didn’t notice the coincidence, so she couldn’t grill him about it.
In fact, she was surprisingly mute over his sudden agreement when Robin purposefully mentioned you’d be there. Her twinkling eyes said she knew more than she’d let on.
And at first, it seemed like a colossal mistake to come.
Steve didn’t like alcohol like he used to. The last few years had birthed something in him that hated not being in control of his body, especially when dark corners seem to hold something more sinister, or the lights flickered.
Or maybe it was the fact he hasn’t really been to a party since Halloween ‘84. Steve shoves the memory of that night down, away.
He lasts two minutes in the crowded main room before he’s shouldering out, hoping the garden will provide some relief. It brings lungfuls of fresh air, the natural blanket of the night and you.
You’re fairly certain you came out here to fight the spinning in your head, desperate for fresh air but now, sprawled out on the cool grass, you’re completely distracted by staring up at the sky. You’re not exactly sure what you’re looking for, gazing into the stars.
A head pops into your vision, Steve’s hair flopping over as he peers down at you. “y/n?”
“Steve!”
Whatever he was expecting, it was not the unbridled glee in your voice. You squirm happily, like a slug in the rain, and if your slurring hadn’t given you away, it’s evidence of how drunk you are. It doesn’t matter that something in his head says she’s drunk, he still finds himself smiling.
“That’s me.” He scans the garden for Robin, assuming the two of you would be together. Concern laces his next words. “Why ya out here on the grass, sweetheart?”
It’s the wrong thing to say. Steve’s not sure what it is he’s said, but he’s never seen a reaction like this out of you before; your hands cover your face, giggles slipping loosely out as if you’re hiding a secret.
Sweetheart. You hide the flame in your face behind your hands. There’s nothing to be done for your giggles, loud and drunken, not stopping no matter how much you will yourself. The pet-name brands itself onto your heart, the heat of it racing under your skin.
Steve tries again. “Where’s Robin? I thought you two came together.”
“We did.” You remove your hands to reveal your wide-eyed expression as if just remembering the fact yourself. Man, that must have been ages ago. “She was talking to... to...”
“Vickie?” Steve supplies, with an amused smile.
“Yes!” You snap your fingers at him, expression showing a little bit of disbelief mixed with awe. It shows in your words. “How did you know that, Steve?”
Steve. Not Harrington. You’ve called him by his name twice and Steve’s a little embarrassed by how much he likes it. Likes the sound of his name in your mouth, on your lips.
He shakes his head like an etch-a-sketch to get rid of the thought, mind stuck on your lips too long. Stay focused, Steve chides himself. Extending out a hand, he offers it to you with the intent to have both of you track down Robin.
Though, if you’d last seen her with Vickie, there’s a chance Robin would bite his head off for interrupting the two of them. Vickie, apparently, had a hard time believing the fact Steve and Robin’s relationship was entirely platonic in nature. Tracking her down at a party might not help.
He’s pulled out of the tangent of thoughts when you slap your hand into his — and tug.
Steve topples, immediately grateful for his lack of alcohol because, with any less coordination, you’d be squished beneath him. A hand plants on either side of your head, catching himself just above you. You grin, alcohol on your breath and Steve isn’t completely sure whether he’s imagining the pink on your cheeks.
“Uh,” Steve says, before scrambling off you hastily. He wasn’t sure if he could be so close to you without his face growing warm; or worse, he didn’t want you to be uncomfortable. Though spying your amused expression, as if you’d known the closeness would make him blush, maybe Steve didn’t need to be worried.
“S’just,” you say, words a bit mumbled. “s’lay down on the grass. Y’know, look at the stars.”
You point up at the sky in case Steve didn’t understand. The grass is still cool under your back and your head isn’t spinning so much but you don’t really feel like moving. Something in you knows that your limbs will feel like cinder-blocks and movement will send your head back into a tizzy.
Without thinking, your push your lips into a pout and aim it at him. Steve flops down without argument.
“You didn’t tell me why you ended out here,” says Steve, wanting to keep you talking. He’s not entirely confident you won’t just fall asleep if the two of you lapse into silence.
You swing your neck, head lolling to the side to look at Steve. Eyes narrowed, it’s like you’re trying to see if he’s genuinely asking. Whatever you find in your search must satisfy you, because you speak, rolling your head back to peer upwards.
“O’Connor’s here.” You say, bitterness in your tone. “Then my head started spinnin’.”
Steve watches as you tilt your head back towards him, pulling a smile that doesn’t reach your eyes. “S’now I’m here.”
You’re not sure what convinces you to do what you do next.
Perhaps, it’s because Steve’s expression is tilting too close to pity and you don’t want it; or that you feel lonely enough that you’ll take touch whenever you can, brave enough with the alcohol in your blood to ask.
Or maybe, you just want an excuse to touch him.
“Gimme your hand.” With a gesture of your own, you hold your hand up like you might be asking for a high-five. It wavers, fingers quivering if he looked close enough. After a moment of confusion, Steve humours you.
You feel the callouses first, rough skin scratching against yours as Steve gingerly holds his hand out, letting your press your own against it. It’s warm, warmer than your own and you wish you could twist your fingers until they slotted in with his.
Don’t says a voice in your head, drowned out in the drunkenness. Don’t do this to yourself. Maybe, it’s the voice of reason. It seems you’re very good at building yourself up just to get torn back down.
Hand pressed to hand, you can’t find it in yourself to care about that; you want to touch him, so you ask, and he gives it to you. The alcohol makes it black and white. 
You hated him. You did, but now it’s all garbled and wonky and different — and you don’t hate him at all. Not anymore. Every complication you had worked up, all the knots tied in your brain seem to dissolve; hand to hand, it’s easy to admit what you’d been denying to yourself.
“I used to hate you, y’know.”
Steve’s not sure if this will ever get easier to hear. That people he’s grown close to carry reminders, unshakeable memories, of an old ego that still haunts him.
He doesn’t know what to say. He knows you know he’s sorry, that he’s different now. So, he weakly says. “Used to?”
“Yeah.” A smile finds your lips, tugging them up slightly. Steve thinks he could marvel forever at how your lashes kiss in the corner when you smile. It’s aching. “Used to.”
“S’kinda hard to hate you,” you sigh, eyes turning skyward. “I should. You didn’t even remember me a couple months s’ago,”
Steve focuses on your hand against his to deter the twinge in his heart. Your hand is smaller than his and when he curls his fingers, they hug the top of yours. A breath bursts past your lips, loud enough he hears it.
“M’sorry.” he whispers, though he’s said it time and time again.
He doesn’t care; he’ll say it a thousand it times if you’ll keep looking at him like that. Features soft, so different to the glare he’s all but memorised — instead, your eyebrows drawn together like the sight of both your hands, palm to palm, might be the most devastatingly beautiful thing you’ve ever seen.
Steve feels you push back against his fingers, a gentle pressure like you’re trying to hug him back.
“And now I can’t stop thinking about you.”
Even while drunk, you can’t look at him while you confess. If you look at him, then it’s real and logic will prevail and you’ll rein everything back in.
Looking at both of your hands, feeling the yearning spool in between your ribs — none of it matters. You like him so much that it feels woven into everything else; weaved into the noises of the party, the black of the night, the grass tickling the back of your legs.
You like him so much it makes you sick.
On second thought, that might be the alcohol.
Steve’s response, whatever it might be, vanishes when you rip your hand away and sit up suddenly — emptying to contents of your stomach into a lovely rosebush to your right. Disgusted with the sudden visual aid to what you had for dinner, you groan. The movement has sent your head spinning again, rotating out of the same orbit as Earth.
Steve’s palm soothes down your spine, rubbing warmth as he murmurs comfortingly.
“Shit, sweetheart,” he mutters, more to himself. “You’ll be feeling it in the mornin’.”
You groan again, eyes sliding shut and tumbling you into darkness.
Fact #8: You’re never drinking, ever again.
You’ll be feeling it in the morning. The last memory of last night curls up like smoke in your head and all you can think is Steve was fucking right.
The sheets feel scratchy as you release an agonised noise into your pillow, coiling in tighter. There’s a pounding in your head, bleeding out of your ears and eyes and you don’t think you’ve ever felt so terrible in your life.
Eyes screwed shut tight, you move slowly and draw your head up. Sneaking a look, relief fizzes in your chest as the recognition of your sheets — you made it home, you’re in bed. Never mind that you can’t quite remember how you got here. A shuffle of your legs tells you, uncomfortably, you’re still in last night’s jeans.
What time is it? There’s sun coming through the gap in the curtains. Daytime. Some sleep-covered murmur escapes you, though even you can’t tell what it’s supposed to mean.
Plopping your head back down, you search your memories. It’s an effort to push past your headache to put together the puzzle of last night. Visions of arriving at the party, of drink number one, and dancing with Robin are clear but sometime after O’Connor shows up they begin to get hazy.
You remember the cool grass. The moon. Steve. God, that’s right, he was there — what you might have said to him is anyone’s guess. Another grainy and fogged memory of puking in the bushes. The rest of the night is locked behind a tequila fueled paywall in your brain
Burrowing back into your sheets, the hangover takes priority and you only hope to sleep it off.
 —
The next time you wake, the pounding in your head has shifted to the door.
You can’t have been asleep for more than an hour according to your alarm clock, blinking midday numbers back at you as you drag your head up. Thankfully, a large portion of your hangover has been cured with sleep — otherwise, the unending knocks on your door might be the end of you.
You struggle to speak, aware of your sandpaper throat but whatever gurgle you produce is good enough for whoever is on the other side of the door. Robin, judging by the intensity of their knocks.
Lo and behold, Robin bowls into the room once she hears signs of life.
“What did you say to Steve?”
Oh.
That has you sitting up, wincing at the pain it brings and you nurse your head in your hands. “What?” you rasp out. “Nothing!”
That might be a lie. You wince again, searching through you scrambled memories for what she could be referring to and come up short. Robin can read your genuine confusion.
“Why?” The word comes out a bit shot. You clear your throat. “Did he say something to you?”
“Nothing specific,” Robin grimaces a bit. She’s never been the best at hiding her emotions. “He just— he asked if you’d talked to me. Said he was checking if you were still alive. Which, yanno, thank god you are! He said you barfed in Melody’s mom’s rose bush, which quite frankly is hilarious and—“
“Robin.” you moan, trying to cut off her ramble. “Why are you here?”
Robin seems to remember the original reason she was nearly breaking down your door, body jumping like she’s been zapped. “Right!”
She suddenly seems to reconsider herself, ducking her head and beginning a well practiced pace across your carpet. “I know you said you don’t like him, which I get, I know- he was the worst! But I dunno, you seemed to, like, I don’t know? Warm up to him? I guess, he just seemed real bummed on the phone when I said you hadn’t called me.”
A series of emotions jolt through your nerves, none as strong as the elation at hearing Steve had called to ask about you. You push it down with another groan and fling yourself backward, bouncing on the springs of your mattress.
Hands hiding your face, you mumble the next words as if you don’t quite want Robin to hear them.
“I don’t not like him.”
“And I can’t tell what that is supposed mean.” Her pacing hasn’t ceased. Her arms gesticulate wildly as she speaks. “You don’t not like him sorta, to me, just sounds like you like him!”
“Robin,” you whine, well aware of the way she can read you like words on a page. “What do you wanna hear? That you were right?”
Robin halts her pacing, leaning her knees onto the edge of your mattress. You peek at her through your fingers. She’s looking a little more wide-eyed. “Yes. Absolutely. If my two favourite people in the world could suddenly get along, maybe even be friends, I think I’d like to know.”
“We’re not—”
“But that is not why I’m here.” She’s gone serious, brows raised as her voice turns softer. You nearly think she’s taunting you, a hint of a smile hidden in her expression.
“I’m here to discuss the distinct possibility that you have managed to skip the part where we become a cool trio of friends and have traveled into more than friends territory.”
Damn her. She’s too good, unspooling your secret right after you’ve only just managed to admit it aloud (not that you could remember that thought). Dragging your hands down your face, you groan again — there’s no point in hiding it from Robin, especially when she seems to have you all figured out.
“I’m gonna take that as a ‘wow Robin, you’re incredibly smart and totally right’.” She jibes, looking far too smug.
Perplexingly, she doesn’t appear to care that you confirmed Steve had you feeling gooey inside and weak at the knees. You dredge yourself to a sitting position, blankets pooling at your waist, and regard her with as much sarcasm as you can.
“Wow, Robin,” you drawl tiredly, still a bit catty from your lack of sleep. “You’re so totally right.”
“Don’t forget the incredibly smart part.”
You wallop her thigh with your sleeve, halfhearted and not at all mean. She grins. For a moment, you’re monumentally relieved to be sharing this with her — you’re best friends, talking about a boy you like, back to feeling thick as thieves with her.
“You gotta talk to him though, you know that right?”
A sigh. “Yeah, I know.”
By the time you’ve rinsed the last of your hangover down the shower drain, washed down with the suds of your strawberry shampoo, the sun is nearing the horizon. 
Droplets cling to the ends of your hair, leaving a trail behind you on the carpet as you don fresh clothes. You try your best not to analyse each piece, shoving down any self-doubts and recalling Steve’s generous compliments littered through the past couple of months.
Tonight. It had to be tonight, you decided. Any longer and you’d lose the nerve, crawl back to avoidance because you’re not really sure you want to hear what you said to him in the garden.
You can only imagine it’s some confusing amalgamation of your complicated feelings — mixed with the amount of alcohol you had drunk? It was a stab in the dark trying to guess what you had said.
The plan you have is half-baked at best. The walk to Loch Nora isn’t far — but if your plan goes south, you’ll have plenty of time to wallow and clear your tears on the walk home. Thankfully, It’s still too early for dinner. You can smell the beginnings of it bubbling on the stove as you creep down the stairs.
As soundlessly as you can, you slip out the front door. Warm air greets you. The sunbeams trickle across the sky, dipping lower behind the horizon and painting soft blemishes of pink and orange across the sky.
The other perk of the walk is that you’ll have ample time to decide what you’ll say to Steve; you can deliberate each word, orchestrated so that it can be played down if need be. Minimal cringe and hurt feelings.
You’re running a few options over in your head when the rumble of a car cruising down your road draws your eyes. With a startle, you realise it’s a familiar maroon colour  — a car you’d been in just over a week ago.
You watch as Steve parks, evidently so entrapped in his own thoughts to notice you on the doorstep. He’s messing with his hair anxiously, eyes on the ground and when you look closer, his mouth is moving, an indication he’s talking out loud to himself.
He makes it halfway up the driveway before you stumble out to meet him.
“Steve?” You call out and his head shoots up, a little alarmed to see you. His steps falter, the pair of you met in the middle of your drive.
“Y/n. Hi.” For someone who had come to your house, he seems a bit affronted to be seeing you. Acutely, you realise that he’s nervous. He jerks his thumb over his shoulder, gesturing to the road. “Were you— is this a bad time? I didn’t mean to intrude—”
“No!” You squeak. “No, I was just... coming to see you, actually.”
“Oh.” Steve blinks. He ducks his head for a moment, clearing his throat but you still spot the pink on his cheeks. “How’s your head? You’d had, uh, a lot to drink last night.”
There’s only a mild rush of embarrassment to your system, a sheepish grin playing at your lips. “Right. Last night- I’m sorry you had to, er, see that. Or rather, thank you for taking care of me.”
Steve smiles back. One hand reaches up to scratch the back of his neck, a nervous motion. You don’t mean to zero in on his large bicep, tan skin on display with his short sleeves but it’s impossible not to — Jesus Christ, it’s like he’s doing it on purpose.
You smile timidly, willing your cheeks to cool.
“Yeah, about that.” He starts, eyes shifting about nervously. He can’t pick a spot to focus, too nervous to look you in the eyes.
Steve’s been throwing around your words ever since you uttered them to him in the garden. And now I can’t stop thinking about you. Tone so sweet, so sincere, your brows drawn together like it hurt you to admit how much Steve had been on your mind.
His stomach had nearly turned itself inside out at your reveal, nerves flaming and relief coursing at the realisation that it was mutual. You’d been on Steve’s mind since even before you’d given him your softest smiles after bottle smashing, sugary grins over your milkshake, a genuineness you’d never shared with him before — and after? God, it had driven him mad.
But then you’d scampered out of the car like a spooked animal. Stopped coming by Family Video and cursedly, seemed to slip back into an old pattern of ignoring him.
Then, the garden.
God, if you hadn’t been drunk, and maybe if Steve wasn’t so surprised by the sweetness you showed him, he might’ve kissed you.
Holding your palm against his, you might as well have been grabbing his hopes and hoisting them out of the depths — that perhaps, your avoidance stemmed from something different this time round. 
Steve takes in your shy expression, bottom lip trapped in your teeth, and prays it’s all for the same reason he’s nervous and not instead, because you’re trying to awkwardly figure out how to tell him it was all the alcohol talking. 
“What you said…” He’s trying to be nice to his feelings, on the defence in case he’s so terribly wrong about this. About you. “Did— did you mean that?” 
The face you pull doesn’t instill him with confidence, his stomach plummeting at your hesitance. Fuck. He’d overshot, as usual, clinging too tightly to the threads of affection you’d shown him. 
“I…” You’re unsure where to begin. God, what did you say?
Steve thinks he can garner what reaction that is; it’s the exact opposite of what his heart had managed to convince him. You went back to avoiding him on purpose. He cuts you off hoping to save himself some awkward rejection, shaking his head and taking a step back. 
“Don’t worry. It was— you were drunk,” Embarrassment starts flooding in, a hot uncomfortable flush up his neck that makes Steve want to sink into the ground. “I shouldn’t have— it was weird of me to ask.” 
He’s rambling too fast to get a word in. You take a step forward as he takes another step back, worried that he’ll leave before you can even get a word in. Never mind that all plans for orchestrating the perfect thing to say are out the window — you have to say something. 
“I don’t know what I said!” You blurt, desperate to halt his retreat. It works; Steve stops, taken aback by your words. Oh God, what now? You debate where to start. 
“Seriously, I— Robin came over and was talking about how you’d called and— I-I remember some of last night but it’s a bit—”
“You don’t...” Steve interrupts, giving a confused shake of his head. The wind ruffles his hair, strands dancing over his forehead. “Remember any of it?”
Why does it feel like you’ve disappointed him? Despite your initial wish to not relive whatever you’d said in the garden, you’re suddenly dying to remember. Even now, you can feel yourself combing the hazy memories, hoping there’s a stone you’ve yet to turn. It’s fruitless.
“I remember embarrassing myself by puking in the bushes.” You grimace as you say it, heat rising in your face. You can feel your nerves fraying, heart pounding but none of it in a good way. “Look, Steve, does it matter what I said? I-“
“It does.” He says, voice suddenly lower. It rasps, more serious than before. “It matters if you meant it. Do you?”
He takes another step forward, close enough that you can smell his cologne again. The same comforting musky scent as when he pushed the safety glasses up your nose and tucked your hair behind your ears in the woods together, touch gentle and eyes kind.
“You said,” He breathes, his honey eyes hopeful. “You couldn’t stop thinking about me.”
Oh.
It seems to be a habit of yours; rewinding through your actions towards Steve in the past, heavy with regret. He’d still been sweet, checking on you out in the garden even though you’d left him in the dark for a week. After managing to make you forget the worst date ever.
Then you’d upchucked your feelings, so drunk you couldn’t remember it, and then your dinner too. You were a mess; Steve Harrington made you a lovely absolute mess. Fuck, you’d likely ruined whatever chance at something with him.
But then again, here he was.
Still showing up, enough hope to dredge together the courage to drive over and ask you what it meant. 
“I meant it.” You say, softly. You feel captured in his gaze, pulled into his orbit with no choice about it. He’s like the sun, gravity pulling you closer the longer you stand this close to him. Your heart feels like it’s made of jelly, each thump echoing out into your limbs. “I— fuck, you made it so hard to hate you. I used—”
“—Used to hate me.” Steve recites the words before you can say them, amusement in his voice. Some of his nervousness has leaked out, shoulders less tight. You can nearly see a glint of his Harrington charm in the curl of his lips. “Yeah, you said that last night too.”
It’s said to poke fun, teasing you for last night’s loose tongue. You groan, head tilting back. “God, anything else I said last night that I should know about?”
Steve steps closer. It makes your breath hitch, your head straightening up and bringing your faces closer still. You’re not sure where this is going, not sure what he’s thinking, if he can hear the thunder of your heart — he hasn’t even said anything that implies the feelings are mutual.
You vaguely wonder how he knew that your words held more weight than they appeared. He’d been paying more attention than you’d expected; knowing that I can’t stop thinking about you meant more than what was on the surface.
This time, you know him well enough to know that his teasing is not mocking. That the Steve in front of you is not at all like the one you’d remembered from the school hallways, the one who’d thrown around shitty comments, had notches in his belt, and didn’t care who got hurt as a result.
He doesn’t answer your question. Instead, he says, “I can’t stop thinking about you either.”
The world doesn’t stop spinning, but for a moment, it certainly feels that way. Blood rushes in your ears, blooms under your cheeks, and the words sink in. The wind sounds like the sweetest music, the colour spread across the sky is a shade that could only be called love and a boy is telling you he likes you too.
It faintly occurs that the silly teenage daydream you pictured with Bradley — you’re instead getting with a boy you swore you hated not two months ago.
It makes you like him even more.
He’s earned it, your trust, your affection — your kiss.
Wordlessly, you surge forward at the same time Steve does. You clash, gifting each other an awkward headbutt instead of some swooning kiss. Pain splinters momentarily across your forehead, gone after a moment.
You can’t help it, a laugh bursting from your lips. You’re so nervous. It doesn’t deter you, peering up at him with adoring eyes. Somehow, you still manage a tease. “Were you trying to kiss me, Harrington?”
His hands cup your face, fingers tucked under your jaw, and thumbs stroking your cheeks. His own smile barely contained, elation shining in his eyes.
“I will if you stop calling me that.”
He kisses you before you even get a chance to agree.
There’s bliss hidden in his lips, you think happily. Steve kisses soft, plush lips that mold to yours like its second nature, two pieces of the universe aligning.
You can feel the heat of his mouth, the scratch of his thumbs upon your face and you sigh, content, into the kiss because no one has ever kissed you like this.
He kisses you and suddenly, there is no war-torn battle in your mind. Your hands have twisted into the fabric on his shirt, tugging him closer. It’s unbearable. You want him, completely, embarrassingly, and undeniably. You’ll take anything he’ll give you — you want him to give you everything.
When the kiss breaks, it’s only for a moment; Steve presses another, short and gentle, then another, and another, like he can’t handle not stealing another taste of your lips.
“Steve,” you rasp, chuckling a bit. Your eyes are still closed, like you’re worried it’ll all be some dream if you dare to open them. His nose nudges yours, crushing closer to you, unwilling to relent the closeness he’s finally been granted.
“Let me take you out.” He whispers and it’s enough to open your eyes, lashes crinkling as you beam up at him. Steve drops a kiss on your cheek, thumbs stroking with a tender care that makes you shiver. “Please.”
As if you could say no. You give a minuscule nod but your delight is given away in your smile, eyes bright as you admire each detail of his face fondly. “Yeah, alright.”
It makes him laugh, amusement dancing across his features, and God, he looks so handsome you have to kiss him again.
You do, hands escaping the confines of his shirt and twisting around his neck. Steve hums happily, something you’ll come to learn he does whenever you kiss him first. It makes you gleeful, a shot of pure euphoria tipping down your spine. You shiver, wonderfully.
“Just promise me,” you say when you pull back, breathing a titch ragged. You grin. “Not a movie date.”
Steve grins, one hand leaving your face to curl around your waist. It’s warm, heat radiating into your skin.
“Still no faith in me, sweetheart?” He chides, fingers dancing along the skin of your waist, giving away his joy. The pet name makes your knees weak, a flash of a forgotten memory in the garden breaking through.
“Something tells me you’ll convince me.”
Fact #9: The first fact is a lie.
His next kiss feels like a promise; that he’ll do the work to convince you, just like he’d done the last few months. That he’d be more than happy to. You drink in affection from a boy who’s so sweet on you with a happy sigh.
He tastes like sunlight.
Fact #10: You might just be falling in love with Steve Harrington.
taggin sum mutuals below!
@hawkinsindiana @spideystevie @harringtonbf @writtenbybelle @hoesbloated @familyvideostevie @lurkymurker @sattlersquarry @steddiesandwich @circesstars @upsidedownwithsteve @raggedyoldwitch @sunshinehollandd @ohschmidts @appocalipse​
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moonstruckme · 4 months
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Busybody
summary: when Steve notices your anxiety spiraling out of control, he finds his own way to help
cw: anxiety
Steve Harrington x fem!reader ♡ 1.3k words
You’d woken up with some busybody in your chest that you can’t get rid of. 
It feels like you’ve had three cups of coffee despite your four hours of sleep. You’d all but jolted awake, pre-panicked about something that you haven’t identified yet. Something you have to be forgetting, or not assigning enough importance to, surely. And the way you figure it, if your body’s going to freak out at you about being idle, you may as well appease it and hop to. 
By the time Steve cracks an eyelid, you’re thinking about what to make for lunch. Heart never having left your throat, you’ve cleaned the kitchen, baked a blackberry cobbler, tried to read a few pages of your book before giving up for fidgetiness, reorganized your portion of the bathroom cabinet, and begun a grocery list for the week. 
“Morning,” he yawns, leaning against the counter. He’s looking endearingly rumpled, a faint red line on his face from a crease in his pillowcase and his hair pressed flat on the one side. You smile at him as he rubs the sleep from his eyes. “Smells like fire in here.” 
“Morning! I made a cobbler,” you explain, not mentioning the burnt first attempt that’s smelled up his kitchen despite you opening all the windows. “Do you want some bacon, eggs, and toast for breakfast?”
Steve blinks, eyebrows rising slightly. “Uh, sure. You gonna make me some?” 
“Mhm.” You’re already taking the eggs out of the fridge. “Scrambled?” 
“Yeah. Thanks, babe.” 
“No problem.” You grin, happy to be of use as you whisk his eggs with a fork, turning on two burners of the stove to preheat as you do. “How’d you sleep?”
“Good,” he yawns. “Well, pretty good. Woke up a couple times this morning, but you were already gone. Been up for a while?” 
“Yeah, couldn’t sleep.” 
Steve nods, frowning. “Sorry, honey. You didn’t get much chance to sleep the night before, either, right?” 
You hum, bacon sizzling when it hits the pan. You put the toast down in the toaster, hoping you’ve timed it right so it’ll still be warm when everything else is done. “Oh, do you want orange juice?” 
“Sure, but I can grab it.” He moves for the cabinet, but you nudge in front of him, too restless to stop moving while everything heats on the stove. 
“Don’t worry, I’ve got it.” You shoot him a smile as you grab a cup. Steve returns it, but muddled.
“So between last night and the one before, how many hours have you gotten?” 
You shrug. “Not sure.” Nine, give or take. “But I don’t feel tired.” 
“Well, that’s good,” he says slowly, watching as you fill the cup with orange juice before hustling back to the stove, flitting between tasks at something approaching light speed. 
“Hey, so I was thinking,” you go on, flipping the bacon, “do you want to do some Christmas shopping today? I mean, I know you said you’re not thinking about it yet, but it can’t hurt to get a jump on things.” 
Steve yawns again, stretching his back. “Yeah, that sounds okay. Not sure I’d know what to get anyone.” 
You nod a few times. “Maybe you’ll know it when you see it.” Flip the bacon onto a plate, add more pepper to the eggs, put the bacon’s pan in the sink, turn off that burner on the stove—the toaster goes off, and you nearly hit your head on the ceiling. You jump straight up. 
“Oh.” You press a hand to your chest, laughter tripping off your tongue. Your blood thrums excitedly, like it’s finally found the outlet it's been looking for all morning. “God, that scared me.” 
“I could tell,” Steve says, eyebrows at his hairline and smiling faintly. “You doing alright?”
“Yeah, good.” Your heartbeat has become more noticeable all of a sudden, a hollow ache behind your breastbone. “I’m almost done, just a sec.” 
“No rush, honey. Thanks for making me breakfast. It looks great.” 
“Of course, no problem.” You plate up the rest and spin to find Steve already there, his hand the only thing stopping you from nearly flinging the dish into the wall surprisedly. 
“Thank you,” he says earnestly, taking the plate from you and setting it on the counter. He brings his arms around your shoulders, and you wrap yours around him too, an automatic response. Steve sighs, his ribs expanding and contracting with the force of it, and you copy him mockingly. 
“Still tired, baby?” 
“A little,” he admits. “Though I can’t really complain, considering how little sleep you’ve gotten.” 
You make to pull out of the hug, but Steve tightens his grip on you, palm pressing into the midpoint of your upper back. You give in, a willing captive. 
“It’s fine,” you tell him. “I’m sorry you’re tired.” 
Steve hums, taking another big breath. “I’m good.” A pause. “Okay, you can tell me if I’m crazy, but it does smell like something’s burning in here, right?” 
“Burnt,” you admit. “I left a blackberry cobbler in the oven a bit too long. The one in the fridge is a re-do.” 
“Oh, okay.” 
“Sorry.” 
“No, don’t be. I think the smell’s clearing out anyway. Right?”
You sniff experimentally at the air. “Yeah, I think so.” 
“Yeah?” he sniffs too. 
You inhale more fully, only detecting the faint remains of smokiness under the newer scent of bacon grease. 
“I’ve never had blackberry cobbler,” he says, palm beginning to coast slowly between your shoulder blades while his other arm stays firmly around your waist. “What’s it taste like?”
You perk up. “Wanna try some now?”
“No—I wouldn’t want to ruin this breakfast you’ve made me. Describe it to me.” 
It’s an odd request, but nothing you can’t manage for him. You think back, letting your tongue conjure up the memory of the last time you had it. “Well, the blackberries aren’t tangy by the time they’ve been cooked,” you tell him. Steve hums, hand solid and steady on your upper back. “And this recipe is really sweet. The dough is kind of like sugar cookie dough.” 
“Sounds good,” he says appreciatively. “Hey, do you think you can smell it?” 
“From inside the fridge?” You take your head from his shoulder to give Steve an odd look. 
“Sure, just give it a try.” He closes his eyes, inhaling deeply. You wrinkle your brow, sniffing tentatively. Steve opens his eyes as if to check you’re doing it, and it’s the worry in his look that gives him away. Your bemusement gives way to fondness as you take a long breath in, filling your lungs and holding the air inside you for a few moments before emptying them. You know what he’s doing, but you’re letting him anyway. 
“Mmm, don’t think I can,” you tell him wryly.  
“No?” Steve’s smile is sheepish, well aware you’re onto him. “Do you think we should find three things you can touch, just for fun?” 
You roll your eyes at him, but inhale again as you hug him tightly. Some of the pain in your chest eases. “Thanks, Stevie.” 
“What for?” he asks, hand resuming its route between your shoulder blades. “Hey listen, I’m all about your Christmas shopping idea, but do you wanna try taking a hot shower first? It might help you relax.” 
“That’s a good idea,” you admit, peeling away from him. He lets you this time, albeit reluctantly. “Your breakfast is going to get cold.”
Steve looks at it as though just remembering it’s there. “Right, thanks. Sit with me while I eat? You could have some of that tea you like.” 
You smile at him, taking a mug and your herbal tea down from the cabinet. “Yeah, that sounds good. Thanks.” 
“You’ve got to stop thanking me, I haven’t done a thing all morning.”
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keerysfolklore · 2 months
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18+ only | A house with a picket fence ˚ ༘♡ ⋆。˚ I’m plagued by the thought of you and stevie being best friends since you were little and one night you get drunk with him and start talking about what you both wanted your futures to be like. You talk about how you’ve always wanted a big family and to be a house wife. You dream about the day your husband comes home from work and you have tea on the table ready for him, the kids are already bathed and in bed. Steve says that that sounds like his dream life too. Admits he finds nothing sexier than the thought of coming home and getting his wife pregnant again. You’re sat on the floor of his bedroom in his 1 bedroom apartment the lights are off you’re both staring at the ceiling in silence - a comfortable one. Steve mutters about how it’s just a pipe dream and you being drunk blurt out what you were thinking and ask if he wanted to at least pretend for the night. you both end up giggling and kissing one another. You’ve kissed and slept together before so this was just normal right? This is what best friends do? You tell Steve to go and put on his suit and tie and you put your hair up and run to the kitchen to put on Steve’s ‘kiss me I’m the chef’ apron, that Eddie had gave him for his birthday last year. You practically sprint back to his bedroom nearly falling over as your socks slide along the wooden floor. You’re both giggling messes undressing one another. Kisses being placed anywhere you could see skin. You tell him to keep the tie on after accidentally getting it stuck around his head. Both of you are crying with laughter. The sex was sloppy and messy you still had your apron on as you were bent over his desk. You were both content, this felt normal. You didn’t end up getting pregnant like Steve’s dream but you and steve sure as hell practiced it - a lot that night. Neither of you discuss what happened the following day as you both nursed your hangovers cuddled up watching tv and eating junk food. This is normal best friend behaviour right? ˚ ༘♡ ⋆。˚
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steddieasitgoes · 4 months
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@steddiemas Day 14 Prompt: Airport and/or Bar
Tags: Established Relationship, Airport Pick Ups, Supportive Wayne Munson, Idiots In Love
wc: 1796 | Rating: G
Read on ao3 | ao3 collection
Long distance isn’t the relationship Steve and Eddie had dreamed they had when they finally confessed their love together in the Spring of ’88, but they’ve been making it work for years now.
As far as Steve’s concerned they are experts at it now.
They talk every night. Steve from his bedroom in the apartment he shares with Robin in San Francisco, Eddie from his own bedroom in the house he lives in with Wayne two towns over from Hawkins.
Steve tells Eddie about his long days at the office, the responsibilities he’s been shouldered with now that he’s earned his father’s trust to run the West Coast branch of the organization by himself. A feat Steve didn’t even know he wanted until he finally sat down with his father years ago to learn what the man did.
Eddie listens tentatively and returns the favor with his own stories of the day. Life at the plant alongside Wayne isn’t his dream, but it's a steady job that pays the bills. Besides, he likes being near Wayne. Can’t imagine a world where he’s not a hop, skip, and a jump away from the old man who quite literally saved his life more than once.
It’s not like they wanted to create professional lives thousands of miles apart from each other, but it's the cards they’ve been dealt. Sure, they’d love to be under the same roof for more than a week at a time, but they make it work. The real truth is that they’re both too afraid to make the other sacrifice all they’ve built for the other. Resentment is a relationship killer and neither is ready to jeopardize the cozy relationship they’ve built.
So, they make do.
Steve visits often, a perk of being the boss of his branch. Occasionally, he writes them off as business trips and checks in on the Midwest branch while he’s in town. Other times he uses his sick days and vacation days to make the trip out to Indiana.
Every time he flies into the Indianapolis International Airport, Eddie is waiting for him at the end of the jet bridge. The first time, he was decked out in a suit a size too small. A chauffeur cap askew on his head and a handwritten sign with “S. Harrington” scrawled across it that he had leaned on a luggage cart like all the other private chauffeurs waiting for their clients. Steve couldn’t help but burst into laughter the moment he saw him, running to Eddie and giving him a hug that the rest of the passengers side-eyeing them — not because they were two men, but because it was one hell of a greeting for a paid chauffeur.
From that moment on, Eddie committed to the airport greeting bit. The next time Steve flew to Eddie, he was greeted with a giant sign that read “Congrats! You survived prison!” A few times after that, Eddie was standing there with a bouquet of blue balloons and a banner that said “It’s a Boy!” There was the time he pretended Steve was his cheating boyfriend and had a total meltdown at the gate only to leave with Steve hand-in-hand three minutes later. And he can’t forget about the time he roped Dustin and the rest of the kids into making the trip, the lot of them waiting for Steve at the gate with various signs claiming to be his long-lost children.
Aside from getting to spend time with Eddie, his airport arrivals were always the highlight of the trip. He knows Eddie gets a kick out of the theatrics, but there’s a part of him deep down that wishes he could be on the receiving end of the airport shenanigans at least once. Unfortunately, Steve has yet to repay the favor since he’s usually the one making the trip out to Indy.
All that’s about to change though, because after years of asking, he’s finally convinced Eddie and Wayne to take their holiday vacation and come spend Christmas with him and Robin in sunny California.
Which means one thing: It’s Steve's turn to create an epic airport arrival sign.
“How am I supposed to top any of these?” Steve asks, sifting through the hoard of airport signs he’s kept over the years. A beautiful tapestry of their chaotic relationship.
“I don’t think Eddie can be topped,” Robin says, searching through her own stack of neon poster boards.
“I mean…”
“Do not finish that sentence.”
Steve throws his hands up in defense, biting the inside of his cheek to keep his laughter at bay. The last thing he needs is to upset Robin before they come up with a sign idea.
Sighing, Steve lets his head thunk against the mountain of signs. It’s no surprise Eddie is the more creative one of their relationship, but he feels bad he can’t come up with anything even remotely as good as the signs Eddie’s been creating for years.
“Look, Steve,” Robin says, patting his back. “You’re never going to outdo Eddie. He’s theatrical at his core. He lives for being a menace. Stop trying to channel him and channel yourself instead.”
“Is this your way of telling me you find me boring?” he asks, gazing up at her.
“No, dingus! I’m just saying, channel that Romeo side I know is in there,” she says, thrusting her finger into Steve’s chest. “Be sappy. Eddie’ll appreciate it.”
In the end, Steve takes Robin’s advice. He cuts a fluorescent green poster board into a wonky heart — one side longer than the other. Tries three separate times to get “Welcome Home” centered in the middle before he gives up and freehand it. And then, for extra flair, he uses a bottle and a half go glitter glue on the whole thing. They’re going to be finding specks of glitter for weeks, but he thinks it’ll be worth it.
According to the signs, Eddie and Wayne’s flight has already landed and is en route to the gate. Steve stands nervously by the sky gate exit. The sign is still folded in half, wrinkled at the edges from how much he’s fidgeting with it. He had no idea how nerve-wracking it is being on this side of things. It’s silly really. He knows Eddie is going to be happy to see him, sign or no sign, but he can’t help but be a little on edge.
Thankfully, the doors open and a flood of travelers start disembarking from the plane. Steve stands on his top-toes, scanning the tired faces in search of Eddie and Wayne. As the crowd thins out, Steve starts to worry. Maybe they changed their minds? Maybe they missed the flight. Maybe he’s at the wrong gate?
Shit, what if he’s at the wrong gate?
A glance up at the digital sign above the exit, confirms that Steve is in the right place. He breathes a sigh of relief before he goes back to scanning. They have to be coming out soon, he thinks, and starts to unfold the sign. He holds it low, clutched over his chest until he spots a familiar head of unruly curls.
Hoisting it over his head, he shouts, “Eds!”
Eddie’s head whips around at the sound of his voice, eyes shining when he spots him in the thinning crowd. Steve has all of five seconds to brace himself before Eddie launches himself into his arms, crushing the sign between their bodies.
It’s not uncommon for the two of them to hug when they reunite at the airport, but this feels different. Eddie’s arms are tighter around his neck and he’s pretty sure he can hear him sniffling, body slightly shaking in his grasp.
“Eds?” Steve whispers into the mess of curls. “You okay?”
Eddie nods, slowly peeling himself away from Steve. With a little bit of space between them, Steve watches as Eddie’s eyes glance between the smushed sign and Steve’s eyes. Back and forth, back and forth.
Shit, is it too much?
“Really?” Eddie sniffles, using the sleeve of his sweater to wipe away a tear. “You want this to be our home? Together?”
Oh.
Oh, shit.
Steve certainly hadn’t planned for that. Sure, he’s secretly been hoping that the trip out here would get Eddie and to a lesser extent Wayne to realize how great the city is and finally bite the bullet and move out here. Start the mechanic shop they’ve been planing for years. But Steve knew better than to set expectations too high. He’d never ask Eddie to move for him, just like Eddie would never ask Steve to move back for him.
But now, seeing Eddie smiling, eyes glassy with tears. Well, shit, maybe he should have asked him.
“Wait, you want to move in with me?”
“Sweetheart. I’ve wanted to live with you since the moment we said I love you on the Henderson’s porch.”
It’s not news to Steve, per se. They’ve talked at length about what living together would be like; especially in those early days when their relationship was in that blissful honeymoon phase. Still, the words come as a shock to Steve who stumbles out of Eddie’s grasp for a moment.
Running a shaking hand through his hair, he locks eyes with Eddie. “Why the hell have we been doing long distance for a decade?” he laughs, yanking Eddie back into his arms.
“I thought you weren’t ready! I didn’t want to pressure you.”
“Baby,” Steve breathes. He can’t believe this. Have they seriously been suffering in silence for years for nothing? Christ, they’re idiots. “Of course, I want to live with you! I just didn’t want to make you move.”
“Jesus Christ,” Wayne grumbles, shaking his head. He stumbles his way towards them, throwing a hand on both of their shoulders. “You two are idiots, you know that? Told ya both you needed to communicate what ya wanted!” He rolls his eyes, shoving them both. “Could’ve been livin’ in the sunshine instead of snowy Indiana for years now.”
“Hey, who said anything about you moving with us?” Eddie asks, tearing his eyes away from Steve to stare at his Uncle.
“Hate to break it to you, boy. But wherever you go, I go. S’the Munson rule.”
Steve can’t help but laugh as he pulls both of them in for a hug before ushering them through the bustling airport. They fetch their bags and make it safely into his car before they’re on the way. As he pulls away from the San Francisco Airport, Eddie immediately reaches for the car radio.
Before he has a chance to change the channel, the crooning voice of Perry Como starts singing “(There’s No Place Like) Home for the Holidays.”
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veltana · 3 months
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Mafia AU prequels - Bucky's break-up
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✦ Pairing: Stucky/Fem!Reader ✦ Word count: ~1.7k ✦ Rating: Mature ✦ Warnings/tags: hurt/comfort, mild swearing, angst, mentions of alcohol consumption, lots of fluff and feels, platonic cuddling, sharing a bed, Bucky is a dramatic drunk, unrequited love/crush, mention of loki/reader. ✦ Summary: The thing with roommates is that you will hear them during sex occasionally, it can’t be avoided with thin walls in an old building. But since that Wednesday Bucky never once slept alone and the rest of the time he was hardly in the apartment. ✦ Note: This is a prequel to No one as sweet as you set while they were living together in college, which focuses on their growing relationship and how Bucky and Steve started to develop feelings for Sweets as more than just their best friend. You don't need to read No one as sweet as you to get this but I recommend it. (Also posted on AO3)
Series masterlist
Masterlist | AO3
Bucky and Dot broke up on a Wednesday around lunch. On Wednesday night Bucky had a new girl in his bed and you and Steve shrugged, put on your headphones, and waited for it to blow over.
The thing with roommates is that you will hear them during sex occasionally, it can’t be avoided with thin walls in an old building. But since that Wednesday Bucky never once slept alone and the rest of the time he was hardly in the apartment.
With your room right in between Steve and Bucky’s, you took the brunt of the sounds and on Friday morning you decided to take shelter in Steve’s room because the girl was a screamer and you had barely slept for two days.
Now it’s Tuesday, around one am and both Steve and you are awake, listening to the moans and sounds making their way through your room and into Steve’s.
"How does he even do it?" Steve sounds a little amazed as you both lay in bed and stare at the ceiling. "Drugs?" you ask. "Honestly, it has to be, how else is he going at it all the time like that?" "Maybe they're all faking it?" you suggest.
"I've never heard anyone complain about him," Steve shrugs. "But I mean statistically he can’t get it right for everyone every time." "If he does, he is one of a kind," you decide. "Tempted to go for a ride?" You hear the smile in Steve's voice without even looking. "No, not really," you grimace. "We should do something, I’m not sure it’s healthy anymore."
"Yeah I know, Sweets, but if I try and grab him like he did with me when I was sad about Peggy he is probably going to punch me," Steve sounds concerned too.
Sweets, that dorky nickname they both have decided to call you because you happen to like all things sweet. Somehow it had stuck, even though you protested. "I can try and talk to him," you pause before continuing. "If he is ever alone again."
Suddenly the front door slams and you realize that the sounds have stopped. Sharing a look both of you rush out of bed, finding Bucky in the kitchen, downing a gallon of juice.
"Want some?" He holds it out when he sees you. The smell of alcohol on his breath is strong, even when you’re a few feet away, pulling out a chair to sit down across from where he’s standing. "No thank you," you answer while Steve leans against the fridge. "So, who was that?" you ask.
Bucky shrugs. "Don't know, met her at a bar." "Are you using protection?" Steve asks with a raised eyebrow. Bucky straightens up, putting the open juice jug down hard on the counter, making liquid slosh out, looking at Steve with black eyes that you’ve never seen before.
"Of course I am, do you think I'm fucking dumb or somethin'," he snarls. Bucky tends to be a little dramatic when he's drunk. In an effort to calm him down you reach out to him. "Hey, Bucky, it's okay, he wasn't-" The moment your fingers touch his arm, he turns and moves his hand. "Don't fucking touch me," he says and the palm of his hand connects with your underarm.
Out of surprise and not because it hurts, you yelp and look up at Bucky, a little confused because he’s never reacted like that before. He stares back at you with horrified eyes, realization dawning on him. Slowly, without another word, he backs away and hurries over to his room, slamming the door behind him like a teenager in a fit.
Steve moves forward and grabs your arm, turning it over to see if you’re hurt. "What the fuck is wrong with him," he murmurs. "It's nothing, I was just surprised," you shrug. "I've hurt myself worse by bumping into tables." "That is no fucking excuse." Steve lets go and starts towards Bucky's door. Before he can knock, Bucky opens it with a bag over his shoulder. He's changed into new clothes and his cap is pulled down low over his eyes.
Steve blocks the doorway and crosses his arms, asking "Where the fuck are you going?" "Heading out, move," Bucky mumbles and tries to duck past Steve but the other won't let him. "The fuck your not, you're gonna stay here and face whatever it is that you’re feeling," Steve's voice is laced with restrained anger. "And you're gonna apologize to Sweets."
You’re about to protest that you're not really hurt, but Steve shoots a look over his shoulder and you clamp your mouth shut. "We understand that you're sad about Dot," Steve is softer now and he leans on the doorframe, giving Bucky a way out but he doesn't take it, he just stands there, looking at the ground.
"You don't understand shit, Steve," Bucky mutter. "Have you even cried?" Steve asks and that makes Bucky’s head snap up, his mouth a thin line. "Real men don't fucking cry," he hisses. They stare at each other for a long while, then Steve points to you. "Can real men apologize when they're being a fucking ass?" Steve asks with poorly hidden disdain.
This is a sore spot for both of them and has been the grounds for arguments before. Bucky has some views on what it means to be a man that neither Steve nor you share. It has gotten better over the years according to Steve but you have not seen Bucky cry once, not to sad movies or when he’s been injured, or even had his heart broken. It's concerning, but maybe you and Steve can help him with that one day.
The bag lands on the floor with a thump and he walks past Steve to where you're sitting on the chair. Without a word he gets down on his knees in front of you and gently grabs your arm, pressing his lips against your skin murmuring "I'm sorry," repeatedly.
Steve has turned to look at you and you meet his eyes that are still hard and annoyed. You use your free hand to remove the cap and run your fingers through Bucky's hair, whispering, "It's okay."
When you do, Bucky stiffens and stops moving for a moment, then he lets go of your arm and buries his face in your pajama-clad lap, his voice trembling when he says, "I'll move out, I swear. I'm so sorry! I'm sorry, Sweets! I didn’t mean to hurt you! I love you so much."
Steve softens immediately and pushes off the door to settle on the floor beside him, rubbing his back. “No need for that Buck,” he says softly and you echo him. “I don’t want you to leave Bucky,” you grab one of his hands and gently press a kiss to the top of it before placing it back again.
After several minutes of silence, Bucky asks angrily into your legs, "Why the fuck does it have to hurt this much.” "I don't know," you answer truthfully. "I wish I never met her, never fucked her, never fucking loved her,” Bucky continues. "No, you don't," Steve argues. "I know it might feel like you will never be happy again but it will get better." Bucky lifts his head and Steve cups his face and brushes his cheeks, even though there are no tears there.
"We love you, and we will help you with anything you need," you promise. Bucky nods and lays his head down against your legs again with Steve's hand still on his cheek.
Eventually, Steve stands up and Bucky looks at him a little worried. "Not leaving, just gonna get another blanket for the bed," he reassures him. While Steve is gone Bucky says, "I'm sorry I hurt you, I love you, Sweets, more than you could ever know." And you smile because even though you know he’s exaggerating, it’s still nice to hear him say it. "I know Bucky, I know," you whisper.
When Steve comes back he pulls Bucky to his feet and guides him into the bedroom. You check the front door before turning all the lights out, then padding over to Steve's room too. They're cuddled together, Bucky's head pressed into Steve's shoulder and you move to slide in behind Bucky, but he grabs you around the waist and pulls you down between them. It makes you giggle and there is a weak smile answering on Bucky's face before you all settle in.
There is not even a light bruise left behind on your arm the next day, but you've never seen Bucky so remorseful. In the following weeks, he accompanies you around to classes, carries your stuff, and has sworn off drinking. Both you and Steve are skeptical because Bucky is famous for his partying but in the months that follow he often goes out but always comes home sober.
One day when you're having lunch at home together on the couch, you ask him about it.
First, he puts his food down before taking hold of your utensils and placing them on the table. Then he grabs you and pulls you into his lap, hugging you so tightly you can hardly breathe.
"I never want to put you in that situation again," he explains. "What if I get angry and do something worse, to you, or Steve, or anyone else." Hugging him back as best you can you say "Maybe you should talk to a professional about it?" "I'm on a waiting list," he replies.
You cuddle into him, really trying to show him that you mean it when you say, "Bucky I'm not afraid of you, I know you didn't mean to hurt me." "Don't make excuses for me," he says and picks up a strand of your hair, twirling it between his fingers.
The moment is cut off by your phone chiming and you wiggle out of his hold. When you pull it out a smile splits your face. "Have to go," you grab another spoonful of fried rice then get up. "Who was that?" Bucky asks.
Since you’re halfway to the door you don't pick up on his tone. "Just someone I've been seeing," "What's his name?" "Loki, he's from Europe!" You turn around with a smile and throw him a kiss before you're out the door.
Bucky feels his heart break, again, only this time he has no excuse to be sad about it because you aren't his.
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britany1997 · 10 months
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Swimsuit Body
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My first fic for babygirl Stevie🥹🥰 hope y’all love it, it was a little hard but v cathartic for me to write. This idea has been bouncing in my head and I had to write it out🥺
Steve Harrington x Fem! Plus size reader
Warnings: No smut but spicy references, minors under 16 DNI, body dysmorphia/insecurity, angst to fluff
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You fiddled with the hem of your t-shirt as you stood in front of Steve’s bathroom mirror. You bit your lip, struck by guilt as you realized all your friends were probably wondering where you were, but you couldn’t get your feet to move.
Your sweet boyfriend couldn’t have been more excited to host a pool party to kick start the summer. You loved him so much and you wanted to be out there. Yet instead of longing by the pool, you were stuck, obsessing over your reflection.
“Hey baby,” your head snapped to see a smiling Steve leaning against the door frame.
You blushed and pulled at the shirt awkwardly, “what’re you doing up here Stevie? Everyone’s outside.”
He pushed off the wall and slid behind you, wrapping his arms around your middle and nuzzling his head into the crook of your neck, “not everyone,” he whispered in your ear.
You couldn’t stop the corners of your lips from pulling up into a smile. His patented ‘Steve Harrington charm’ always had that effect on you.
He pulled back to turn you in his arms until you were facing him, “come keep me company by the pool honey, I miss you.”
You bit your lip while shifting back and forth on your feet.
His eyebrows furrowed, “what’s wrong baby?” He looked you up and down, “where’s your swimsuit?”
You gestured to the shirt and cringed, “um, under here.”
Steve shot you a concerned look, “hey baby tell me what’s going on,” he rubbed your back soothingly, “why’ve you been up here the whole time?”
You pulled out of his arms, causing a frown to spread across his face, “it’s nothing,”
“Doesn’t seem like nothing,” Steve spoke softly, “talk to me honey, I wanna help.”
You sighed, your gaze falling to the ground, “I just…I don’t like how it looks on me.”
“How what looks?” Steve asked, confused.
“The suit,” you clarified, pulling the shirt over your head and cringing at the vision of yourself in a black bikini, “my body in the suit.”
His confused expression shifted into one of disbelief. “Baby no, you look amazing.”
You flinched away when he reached for you, “stop, please, you don’t mean it.”
Your heart clenched as he looked at you like a kicked puppy, “I do mean it baby, you’re so beautiful.”
“Steve, look at these,” your fingers traced the stretch marks scattered across your stomach, “I’m never gonna look like Nancy in a swimsuit, they don’t fit me like they fit her.”
He huffed as he gently took your hand and placed your palm against his chest, moving your fingers along his scars. “I don’t want you to look like Nancy,” he mumbled, “I want you to look like you.”
You bit your lip, “your scars are different.”
“Why?”
“They just are.”
He cocked an eyebrow.
You rolled your eyes, “you don’t get it.”
He moved to hold you against his chest, and this time you let him, “then explain it to me.”
Your eyes fluttered closed and you breathed out, thinking of a way to put it into words for him.
“It’s like I could look into the mirror and spend hours picking each part of myself apart,” you explained, “I feel so trapped in my own body, I wish I could just…take it all off you know?”
Steve frowned.
“I hate the way my thighs look, they’re way to big.”
He fell to his knees in front of you, his hands coming up to caresses the backs of your thighs, “you mean my favorite earmuffs?”
“Steve.”
“Sorry baby,” he smiled sheepishly, “when we get dinner with my parents, they’re so…cold, it’s hard to feel comfortable, even in my own home.”He looked up at you, “but then when I touch your thigh, or give it a little squeeze, I feel better because I know that you’re right there with me.”
You blushed, ripping your gaze from his, “I hate my stomach,” you squeezed it with disdain, “when I was a kid I use to which I could just carve it off.”
Steve frowned, still kneeling he pressed his face against your middle. “I love when we watch movies on my couch together, because you let me lay between your legs with my head on your stomach and you run your hands through my hair.” He smiled to himself at the memory, “nothing makes me happier, you’re so soft, and nice, and warm.”
His cheeks tinged pink, “plus I think it’d be a nice home for my baby one day.”
Your lips parted as you let out a soft gasp.
“If you want that too of course!” Steve clarified hastily.
You raised your hands to your cheeks, “I hate how chubby my face is,” you pulled the skin back with your palms before letting it fall back into place.
Steve stood, taking your hands in his and moving so that his face was centimeters from yours. “Your face is the first thing I picture when I wake up in the morning, and the last thing I think of when I fall asleep.”
You whimpered, after being showered in Steve’s praise, your resolve was beginning to wear thin.
Steve smiled as he cradled your cheek in his palm, “baby, you can wear whatever you want to the party, I want you to be comfortable,” the pad of his thumb swiped across your rosy cheek, “but your body is perfect.”
You sighed, “yes yes, my body is perfect to you-”
“No,” he cut you off.
It was your turn to look confused, “no?”
“No,” he repeated, “not just to me, your body is perfect. Period.”
Of course, Steve couldn’t fix years of self-doubt and passive aggressive comments from your mother, but damn did he make you feel beautiful.
You leaned forward and pressed your lips to his. He smiled into the kiss and wrapped his arms around your waist, pulling you flush against his chest.
When you finally pulled back, a dopey smile stretched across his face, “gonna come down with me honey?”
You beamed, “yeah,” you decided, leaving the t-shirt discarded on his bathroom floor, “I am.”
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Steve Harrington Taglist❤️:
@6lostgirl6 @bloodywickedvamp @consuming-karma @kurt-nightcrawler @thesirenrealm @peachpixiesstuff @misslavenderlady
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assembletheimagines · 2 years
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Hi love your writing was wondering if you could do a Steve Rogers x mechanic!shy!reader
Where the reader is a mechanic for the avengers but very shy and so Steve fell in love with the mechanic and always breaks things on purpose so that the Steve can see the reader
Thx
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When Steve first sees you, he stops. He stops everything he is doing just to watch you follow Tony to his workshop. And only comes back to when Sam smacks him in the arm because Steve had just stopped talking in the middle of his conversation. Bucky doesn’t say anything though, a faint smile dancing at the corner of his lips. 
It doesn’t take Steve long to find out who you are. Which is a highly sought out mechanic who Bruce and Tony just needed to have working with them. 
And you’re already working on a prototype for Spiderman when Steve walks in. He was here for Tony; mission succeeded with the only collateral being the gadgets Tony had given Steve beforehand. When Tony sees the broken pieces, he actually groans, catching your attention from the suit in your hands. “Steven,” Tony chides and now that your eyes are on him, the tip of Steve’s ears burn red. 
“Tony,” Steve says but Tony’s already waving his hand for silence, handing the gadgets back into Steve’s big hands. 
“Nope, don’t tell me, hand it over to,” Tony says your name and Steve blinks, because who? 
And when Steve doesn’t move, Tony groans again like he is the only man who can keeps the world turning. 
That’s when your hands brush Steve’s softly. He blinks, realizing you left your desk to go to him when he was staring Tony down. Taking the broken scraps into your hands as you give him a small smile. Steve blinks again, fingers twitching under your touch. You blush and quickly turn around from his stare, heading back to your corner with a small, “I will have this done by tomorrow.” 
Tony clears his throat as Steve continues to watch after you. A smirk on his face that makes Steve roll his eyes and leave. 
“You can send all the things you break to Miss,” Tony says your last name a smugness in his tone, knowing you’re not paying attention as he watches Steve almost falter in step before disappearing.  
With Tony’s instructions to Steve, Bucky thinks he’s going to kill him because now Steve is a lot more reckless with his stuff on missions. 
At one point, Sam swears, Steve walked up to his comm that had fell from his ear and stomped on it. 
But Steve denies with a smooth smile and a broken comm fiddled between his fingers, not even stopping to debrief, as he practically skips over to the lab where everyone knows you are. 
Steve walks into the lab, eyes searching for you, to your desk. 
That’s where he finds you, hovering over a magnifying glass, as you re-wire one of Natasha’s shockers. Natasha's shockers were a small disc that attaches to your skin, zapping you with enough electricity to make anyone fall to their knees in less than 10 seconds. Unconscious in 30. 
You look up from your soldering, meeting his gaze, your cheeks already turning red and you quickly look back down. Steve smiles, walking closer. 
He goes as much as to pull a chair with him and sit in front of you. Your fingers now slightly shaking as you try and pay attention to your work and not the handsome super-soldier sitting before you. 
“I have something that needs to be fixed,” He hums watching as you connect the wire together one by one. 
“You- uh, you can leave it on my desk,” you nod your head to your second desk to your left, not meeting his gaze. “If you want,” you say quickly in an afterthought, not wanting to sound rude and dismissive. “I’m busy with Nat’s shockers but then I will get whatever you need done.” 
Steve hums, his smile growing as he leans back in his chair, still holding to his broken stuff. “No worries, I have time.” 
Your hands stop momentarily, quickly realizing he planned to stay, as he made himself comfy. 
“Oh-okay.” You tried to calm your heart that was racing, hoping the super soldier with super hearing couldn’t hear it. 
The next time Steve finds himself in the lab, he’s again, not empty handed. 
His lips already showing a charming smile as he walks to you, placing a to-go cup on your desk that actually makes you look up from your computer. 
“Thought you might want one,” he says coolly, not even hesitating to grab a chair and sit in front of you, his own cup in his hand. 
You blink, lips parting a little in surprise before you nod your head, a quiet thank leaving your mouth as you take the cup gratefully. Your eyes widen then, after you take a sip, realizing he got your favorite drink. 
You snap your eyes back to Steve with a questioning look but he doesn’t say anything as he takes a sip of his own drink, “what are you working on?” He simply asks. He is not going to talk about him bribing Stark to know what you like to drink or eat or snack on. 
You bit your lip, an action that doesn’t go unnoticed by Steve, before returning to your laptop. You begin to tell him how you are developing another version of Red Wing for Sam, your eyes lighting up as you get further into the details so it takes you a minute to realize you are rambling and your cheeks darken in embarrassment as you stop. “But uh, sorry, was there something you needed to be fixed?” You stumbled over your words as you look back at the super hero. 
You weren’t prepared for the look on Steve’s face. Your heart skyrocketing into your throat as your face reddens more. 
Steve shakes his head, “no, I don’t have anything for you fix.” 
You nod, looking back to your monitor, very aware of Steve’s eyes on you. 
It’s 2 am and you’re flipping through a book while simultaneously scrolling on your laptop when Steve walks in. 
“How did I know I’d find you here?” Steve hums amused and you jump in your seat before meeting his eyes. “You haven’t left the lab since you got here at ten this morning.” He continues as he strides over to you. You don’t know what to say, surprised he even knew that. He rests his big hands on your desk and leans close, eyes shining with something you can’t quite place. “Let's go, you need to eat.” 
He doesn’t even hesitate as he grabs your hand into his, pulling you from your seat as he leads you out of the lab. “Wait, why are you awake?” You asked, looking up to him as he walked with you. 
Steve smiles, you still hadn’t let go of his hand, he presses L for lobby in the elevator with a hum. “What are you feeling? Pizza?” Not answering your question. 
As you continued to see Steve a lot more, it seemed like every mission he went on something got broken, you found yourself looking forward to seeing him. His smile, as he walked over to you, now even sitting with you as you worked on whatever he handed you. 
The more you hung out, the more you grew comfortable around him. 
“You know, you’re going to bleed Stark dry with how many parts he’s got to order for me to fix things for you.” You hum softly, taking broken scraps from the super soldier’s hands as he flashed you a cheeky grin. 
“Mm,” this time he hums, already sitting before you as you begin to look at the damage this time. “I think he can manage.” You giggle at his words and shake your head looking up. 
“If anyone knew better, someone might think you’re breaking Stark’s tech on purpose.” You laugh again but Steve doesn’t join. 
You look over at him again and see his cheeky grin is still dancing on his lips as he tilts his head. 
Your mouth drops a little, “Are you?” Your face clearly showing disbelief. “Are you purposely breaking Stark tech?” 
Steve’s grin turns into a smirk as he leans onto the table, closer to you. “It’s a great excuse to see you.” His words flowing effortlessly as he watches your eyes widen again. 
“What?” You squeak still in disbelief at Steve’s confession. 
“How about this,” he says enjoying that it took you this long to figure it out. “I’ll stop breaking stuff if you see me outside this lab.” He hums tilting his head again, eyes full of mischief. 
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barnesafterglow · 1 year
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three's a party
summary: you and steve aren't very good at keeping secrets
pairing: stucky x reader
word count: 2.7k
warnings: mmf threesome, fingering, unprotected sex, dvp, surprisingly soft for this kind of content, we support poly relationships in this house
a/n: hiii omg this has been the fic i've been most excited for since i started kinktober and i finally managed to finish it. it's a part two to this fic but can be read as a stand alone as well. i really really hope you all love this as much as i loved writing it, so reblog and comment to let me know!
you can join my kinktober taglist or follow @theafterglowlibrary to stay updated on when i post 🤍
kinktober masterlist ─ main masterlist
read part one here
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It was the same routine as usual - Steve’s hands all over you before you even had a chance to get into the apartment.
“Bucky home?” you asked, out of breath from how long he had held you in place to kiss you.
“Nope.” He fumbled behind your back, reaching to open the door.
Neither of you stopped to question the fact that it was already unlocked. Or that the lights were on. You were too wrapped up in each other to notice much of anything until Steve finally picked you up to carry you to his room and saw Bucky in the kitchen.
Steve dropped you immediately, taking a step away, as if that would make things better. As if Bucky hadn’t seen you with your shirt halfway off, your legs wrapped tightly around his waist. His jeans were still unbuttoned, for Christ’s sake.
You expected Bucky to be furious, to yell at the two of you and tell you hated you. Instead, he said nothing, and you took in his posture - casually leaning against the counter, a smirk on his face. Almost like he had been waiting for you.
“Well don’t stop on my account.”
Shit.
You looked over to Steve and met his eye. Then you looked back at Bucky, who was just staring at the two of you intently; you looked down at your shoes to avoid it.
“I’m serious.” Your head snapped up, and suddenly you caught something else in his eyes - dark, pupils blown, and the gleam of cockiness. “Keep going.”
When neither of you moved, he started towards… Steve’s room? He looked back at you, and gestured his head for you to follow. Having no clue what else to do, wanting to appease him so there was a possibility you could maintain your friendship, you followed.
“Sit,” he ordered when the three of you were in the room. You both did as you were told, and your eyes followed his movements as he shut the door.
You stayed silent, still having no idea what to think of the whole situation. You also sat as far away from Steve as was possible for the same reason.
“Touch her like you usually would,” he said to Steve, gesturing to you. Steve stared at him terrified. “Don’t act shy now. Like you haven’t been doing it a wall away for weeks.”
The room was silent, save for the sharp gasps of surprise from you and Steve. You couldn’t believe it - that Bucky even knew in the first place, but also that he wasn’t mad. Instead he just looked… interested.
“What are you doing?” Your voice cracked asking the question, a healthy dose of confusion combined with a dash of fear and a sprinkle of arousal. No, that couldn’t be right. There’s no way you could be getting hot over Bucky telling you he wanted to watch.
“If you don’t do it, Stevie, I will.” The look on his face was absolutely dripping with cockiness - dominance. You’d never heard Bucky talk like that, in the whole time you were dating. Sure, he had liked to throw you around and spank you every once in a while, but nothing like the hold that Steve had over you. And what’s more, Steve listened.
He turned towards you and you hesitantly did the same. Your knees touched, finally truly facing each other for the first time since you had walked into the apartment and seen Bucky.
When he put a hand on your bare knee, he looked at Bucky, who nodded, then back to you. And you nodded too. Wherever this was going - good or bad - you had to find out.
Steve took a deep breath, putting his other hand on your and sliding them up your thighs. Finally, he brought his mouth to yours, kissing you timidly at first, but when you heard a quiet encouragement from Bucky, he deepened it. 
It was easy to get lost in Steve. He was something otherworldly - his mouth, his hands, his everything. The spark you felt for him was something entirely different from the way you felt - had felt, you had to remind yourself - about Bucky.
Except, with his eyes on you like that, it was easy to forget why you even ended things in the first place.
Steve moved his hand towards your core, resting a hand against the wet patch that was apparent in your tight shorts. His thumb found your clit through the fabric and he pressed harshly, pulling a needy moan from you. When you realized what you did, you pulled back, immediately looking at Bucky.
You weren’t sure what to expect anymore. So when you saw he was sporting an impressive bulge in his grey sweatpants, it turned you on more than it surprised you.
He was leaning back against the bedroom door, just watching. You couldn’t help but just stare until Steve took your attention away by tugging on your shirt - a shirt that was Bucky’s, you realized as it hit the floor. You saw the flash of hunger as he realized it too, but your eyes fell closed when Steve pushed you back onto the bed, latching his mouth to your nipple, sucking and biting as he rolled the other one between his fingers.
The most unusual thing about this was how little Steve was talking. Usually, he had the filthiest mouth you had ever heard, but he was relishing in your body. And in the audience he had. Maybe you shouldn’t have been surprised that he was okay putting on a show, considering all the other things he had done to you - and you to him - but the realization that he was enjoying this as much as Bucky clearly was, made you clench around nothing.
He must have felt it, because then he was pulling away and tugging your shorts down your legs. Suddenly, you were naked in front of the two most gorgeous men you had even seen in your life, and they stared at you - fully clothed, no less - like they would worship at your altar.
They glanced at each other, and Steve finally spoke for the first time.
“I’m assuming you’re not going to just stand there and watch?” And that was the only permission needed.
You expected him to put his hands on you, kiss you and touch and give you what you clearly wanted. Instead, he reached for Steve, pressing his lips desperately to the other man’s. If Steve was surprised, he didn’t show it, giving his all into the kiss just as much.
Watching in amazement, a moan slipped from your lips.
“You like that, baby?” There was Steve’s filthy mouth.
“We better let her in on the fun, Stevie.”
Bucky reached for the hem of Steve’s shirt, pulling it from his body. Then, he leaned down to kiss you.
For the first time in over a year, sparks flew between you and Bucky. It was like for a moment, you were the only two people in the world. The only thing that could draw you out of it was Steve’s hands spreading your thighs. 
He placed a light slap to each of them, then manhandled you to the center of the bed. With one hand slowly creeping towards your center, he kissed Bucky again, pulling off his shirt too. When they separated, Bucky tugged his sweatpants down, and you were both bare. The only stitch of clothing left in the room was Steve jeans.
“C’mon Stevie,” you teased. “You can’t be comfortable in those jeans.”
A smirk spread across his face, and he slid his body from the bed. As he stripped down, Bucky took his place between your legs. Content to share, he let a finally naked Steve settle next to him, and they both looked down at you with a glint of pure need in their eyes.
Bucky reached down, running his hands gently along your thighs - everywhere except the spot you needed him. You tried to maneuver your hips so that he was where you wanted, but a large hand pressed down on your stomach, keeping you pinned to the bed.
“Be good,” Steve tsked, and your wide eyes met his as Bucky finally slid two fingers through your folds. Your hips tried to buck up instinctively, but Steve kept you in place while his best friend sunk his fingers into you.
You threw your head back into the pillows, the feeling already overwhelming. Steve was big, but you had always had a weakness for Bucky’s hands. You were so wound up that you thought you may come from just that, then Bucky crooked his fingers just right, and you did.
Steve lifted his hand and let you rock your hips against Bucky to ride out your orgasm. Your eyes finally fluttered open to see Steve sucking on Bucky’s fingers, tasting you.
It was a wonder you didn’t come again, especially when they were both looking at you like you were the only thing they could see.
Bucky leaned forward, kissing you gently, a contrast from how he had just been. He looked into your eyes like he was seeing into you, could see you into your soul and again you wondered how you could have ever let a man like him get away.
The spell was broken by Steve maneuvering you, moving on the bed until he was behind you, his strong thighs caging you in on either side. And Bucky - oh, Bucky - wasted no time in settling in between both of you, taking no time to tease, and sunk into you in one thrust.
The moan you let out was borderline pornographic, not used to the way he stretched you out. It was different than Steve, so much different, and you had missed Bucky more than you let yourself admit.
He grinded against you, not pulling out, just rolling his hips. You knew what he was trying to do, knew he wanted you to beg, and you weren’t too proud to do it.
“Please, Buck,” you whined, high and needy. “Need you to move, please.”
He leaned down and bit harshly on your bottom lip at the same time he pulled out and thrust back into you. An ungodly sound left you, something between a scream and a moan. On top of it all, Steve reached around you, pinching both nipples harshly.
Overstimulated, you came around Bucky’s cock. You’d never come from so little, and despite the fact that both men - separately - had given you many more orgasms in a single night, you were already exhausted.
But not exhaustion could keep Bucky from pounding into you, hard and fast. Steve grabbed your tits, squeezing them as they bounced from the force of Bucky’s thrusts. You threw your head back, resting on his shoulder, and you turned your head to see both of them entranced in each other before finally marrying their lips together.
Seeing them, seeing the love that was clearly there, gave you a funny feeling. It was definitely something you all would have to talk about once your brain was working again.
You whined when Bucky pulled out, but he grabbed your chin and made you look at him before you could beg him to keep fucking you.
“Do you trust me?” he asked, eyes searching yours.
“Of course.”
His eyes flicked to Steve’s for a moment, and you felt the connection they had, somehow always knowing what the other was thinking.
“Turn around, baby.” Steve’s voice was low and heavy in your ear. His and Bucky’s hands both turned you so you were straddling him, and he laid his back down on the bed.
Bucky took hold of your hips lifting you as he allowed one hand to move down and grasp Steve’s cock. He gave it a few pumps before helping you sink down on him.
Yours and Steve’s moans were complementary, twining together and spindling throughout the room. And Bucky’s hot breaths behind you was a perfect chorus.
“Gonna get you open now, sweetheart,” Bucky said, pressing a smattering of kisses to your shoulder before he pushed you down so that your chest was pressed against Steve’s. You didn’t know exactly what he was doing, but you had an idea, and you trusted him completely.
You felt his fingers drawing gentle patterns on the inside of your thighs, Steve still unmoving inside you. Then, he slipped a finger in beside Steve’s cock, drawing a sharp gasp from your lips. You made a move to sit up, but Steve’s hand pressed into your back, keeping you close to him.
Once you relaxed, Bucky added a second finger, then a third. The stretch was amazing and, if it was going where you thought it was going, it would only get better.
“It feel good, baby?” You opened your eyes - you hadn’t even realized you had closed them - and looked at Steve. There was something in his stare that was different, like he was seeing you differently. You were almost tempted to say something about it, but Bucky was moving behind you, and you had to look away. Over your shoulder, Bucky smiled softly at you.
“Do you trust me?” he asked again, and you nodded your head.
He ran his hand down your back, drawing an unknown pattern along your spine, before he pushed into you, his cock sliding against Steve’s to split you open.
It knocked the breath out of you, and you didn’t know if you could take it, but Steve and Bucky both recognized the sliver of panic creeping into you, and they placed sweet kisses and gave you words of encouragement.
You’re doing great, baby.
Look how well you’re taking us, sweetheart.
I love -
You had to stop yourself from saying the words. You didn’t know who you were even saying it to. Or it was to both of them. Yeah, it was definitely both of them. Shit.
It felt like you were losing your mind, in more ways than one. Thoughts and emotions were flying through your head then suddenly they were punched out by the feeling of Steve and Bucky beginning to move.
They were so gentle, letting you get used to the pace, to the stretch, to the intense feeling of everything you had ever felt being magnified by ten. One hundred. One thousand.
Slowly, as your breathing evened out and your whimpers turned to moans, they sped up. 
It was dizzying, the feel of two massive men taking you like that. You didn’t think you would ever feel anything so good again. When they both thrust deep into you at the same time, the orgasm that had been building since Bucky slid inside you snapped, and you came all over their cocks, in tears from the intense pleasure of it all.
The feel of your tightness was enough to set both Steve and Bucky off, both of them spilling into you and you could already feel their releases leaking down your thighs, onto Steve, onto the sheets.
When they both slipped out, you collapsed into Steve’s chest, feeling so fucked out that your limbs wouldn’t cooperate, and you slowly slipped out of consciousness. 
-
When you came to, you were still in Steve’s bed, Bucky on one side of you and Steve on the other. From what you could tell, they had cleaned you up and put you back in the shirt of Bucky’s you had been wearing, then tucked you in between them.
They were talking in hushed voices - nothing you could make out - but stopped once they noticed you were awake.
“Hey, sweetheart,” Bucky said, running a finger across your cheekbone while Steve placed a kiss on your temple. “You feeling okay?”
You nodded, still too groggy to talk. It felt like you were hungover. A sex hangover, that’s what you had.
“You did amazing, baby,” Steve whispered into your hair.
You felt the love radiate between the three of you, and you knew that this wouldn’t be a one time thing, or only a sex thing. 
And it could be figured out in the morning, because right then you were content to be held by your boys, drifting off to sleep again.
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kinktober taglist *:・゚✧*:・゚✧
@treatbuckywkisses @sgt-barnesveins @bucky-barmes @opheliastark @sweetascanbee @writing-for-marvel @christywantspizza @hi-sarahh @highlyintelligentblonde @jjbunny14 @buckysfavoritereader 
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spoodrm4n · 2 years
Text
Glances Unnoticed
Parings: Steve Harrington x Henderson!Reader
Summary: Dustin drags you out into the woods with none other than Steve Harrington to look for the creature that had eaten your cat. You get roped into a lot more than you bargained for and old wounds are reopened and realizations are made at the end of the night. You just wouldn’t expect to end the night with Steve Harrington spending the night. 
Warnings: angst, mentions of blood, mentions of injury. angst to fluff!!
Word Count: 6.8K
A/N: This fic has taken me the longest out of all I’ve written and it’s also my favorite. I love a good angst to fluff. ALSO, let’s pretend that Steve wasn’t on his way to Nancy’s house to apologize and that he and Nancy broke up after season one!!!! Okay thanks :) Feedback is always apreciated!!!
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“Y/N! Y/N, come on! It’s an emergency!” You groaned and put the pencil in your hand down as Dustin attempted to knock down your door. You opened your door and Dustin stumbled a bit, smiling sheepishly. 
“What Dustin? I’m trying to get homework done.” You sassed as he walked into your room. He looked frazzled. 
“I sent mom to go look for Mews.” He started and you shrugged. 
“Okay? Did someone see her?” You furrowed your eyebrows. Why was he telling you this? 
“Mews is dead.” 
“What?” You blinked. 
“Mews is dead and I really need your help! Do you remember all of the demogorgon shit that went down with Eleven last year? Well I may have accidentally raised a baby demogorgon and it ate our cat and now he’s on the loose.” You stared at Dustin, mouth agape. “Oh, and Steve is here.” Dustin motioned to your doorway and you turned to see none other than Steve Harrington. 
“What the fuck, Dustin? Your little pet ate Mews? Do you know how much mom loves that cat?” You scolded, running your hands down your face. “And how are you even gonna catch this thing? It could be miles away by now!” 
“We have a plan.” You turned back to Steve who looked incredibly out of place in your house. 
“Of course. Enlighten me,” you rolled your eyes and grabbed your jacket from your bed, slipping it on. You followed Dustin and Steve outside to his car. 
“We have bait. We just gotta lead Dart to the junkyard and capture him–”
“Kill him.” Dustin and Steve said at the same time. You raised an eyebrow at the two as you all got into the car. You let Dustin have the front seat as he continued his conversation with Steve. 
“We’re not killing Dart, we’re trapping him and putting him somewhere he can't escape.” Dustin argued. 
“You literally just said it was a mini demogorgon. We’re killing it, Henderson.” Steve deadpanned, pulling out of your driveway. 
“I second that,” you piped up, raising your hand. Steve gave Dustin a pointed look and Dustin crossed his arms, sinking in his seat. The car ride to the railroad tracks was filled with Dustin and Steve’s bickering and you tried to think back to why you even agreed to help the two. 
You knew Steve from school. He was a year older than you and you had heard all the infamous rumors of ‘King Steve’ throughout your high school years. Somehow you had gotten mixed up with him, Nancy, and Jonathan last year and had all fought a monster from another dimension together. Steve was a senior now and the last you had heard about him was that he and Nancy had called it quits. You had talked to Steve maybe a handful of times after your shared near death experience, but you had kept yourself busy with school and extracurriculars like band and being head of the yearbook design. You thought he was attractive, sure. The guy was well dressed and had a pretty face. You wouldn’t complain if you had to look at him. And it turns out he isn’t as big of an asshole as you had thought. 
You all reached the train tracks and Steve stopped the car. You all piled out and stood at the trunk as Steve and Dustin pulled out buckets of raw meat and gloves. Steve shoved a bucket into your hand and you scrunched up your face. He pulled the familiar bat with nails sticking out of it out of his trunk next and then shut it. 
“I’ll trade ya,” Steve put on the gloves and took the bucket from you, handing you the bat. You smirked as you tossed it between each hand.
“Yeah, this is much more of my speed.” Sarcasm dripped from your voice as the three of you set off. You walked in front of the two, avoiding the raw meat they were throwing onto the tracks behind them. 
“So… about that girl you like.” You heard Steve start. You raised your eyebrows but kept walking in front of them, eavesdropping.
“What do you do when you like a girl, Steve? What did you do with Nancy?” Your eyes widened at the mention of Nancy Wheeler. 
“Oh well, you just gotta act like you don’t care. It pulls them in quick, man.” Steve stumbled over his words and you bit your lip to keep from laughing. 
“That’s how you treated Nancy?” Dustin continued to bring up Nancy. Not very cool of you, little brother. 
“No, Nancy was– she was different. And it doesn’t even matter. We broke up over half a year ago!” Your head tilted just a bit at his words, mulling them over in your mind. 
“Well this girl is different!” Dustin argued, sounding exasperated. 
“Woah woah, you’re not falling in love with this girl, are you?” Steve’s tone shifted, resent seeping through them. 
“No, no.” Your brother replied softly. There was a brief pause before–
“Good. She’s only gonna break your heart and you’re too young for that shit.” You frowned. Nancy Wheeler had really done a number on him, huh? You kept walking as the silence between them lingered. 
Steve’s gaze lingered on your back, watching the slight sway of your hips and how your white sneakers kicked at the railroad ties. “Farrah Fawcett spray.” 
“What?”
“Use the shampoo and conditioner and when your hair’s damp, not wet, okay? When it’s damp, you do four puffs of the Farrah Fawcett spray.”
“Farrah Fawcett spray?” Dustin echoed and you smiled. 
“Yeah, Farrah Fawcett. You tell anyone I just told you that and your ass is grass.” You pursed your lips. “You too, Y/N.” You finally turned to look at the two. 
“Oh yeah, because I’m just dying to give away Steve ‘The Hair’ Harrington’s biggest secret.” You joked, twirling the bat in your hand. “Some of us have real things to worry about.” You jabbed, turning back around. You were almost to the junkyard. 
“Y/N, you have zero social life, you do realize that, right?” Steve argued, clearly you had struck a nerve with him. 
“But I do have a 4.0. It looks great on my college applications,” you called over your shoulder, smiling to yourself. Dustin smirked up at Steve, appreciating his sister’s wittiness. 
“So that’s where you get it from,” Steve muttered to Dustin, rolling his eyes and continuing to throw out bait. Dustin grinned up at him.
“How come the only person helping me is Y/N and this random girl?” Steve yelled at Lucas and Dustin. The boys grumbled out insults to each other and reluctantly started helping Steve.
“I’m Y/N, by the way. Dustin’s older sister.” You introduced yourself as you and ‘random girl’ carried scraps of sheet metal to the bus. 
“I’m Max. You and Steve an item?” You choked on air at her question, your face heating up. You dropped your sheet metal and braced yourself with your hands on your knees, choking on nothing. You recovered after a second and turned away from her so she wouldn’t see the blush covering your face. 
“No way, he’s still hung up on Nancy Wheeler.” You picked up the sheet metal and continued walking beside Max. 
“His longing stares towards you every minute would say otherwise.” Max scoffed, placing the sheet metal next to the bus. She picked up a hammer and nails and started nailing the metal to the side of the bus. You joined her, trying to shake off her words. 
“Longing stares, my ass.” You mumbled, lining up the nail and getting ready to hit it. 
“Yeah, sometimes at your ass.” 
“Max!” You missed the nail, a loud clang sounding out. “Uncalled for.” You turned your focus back to the task at hand. 
“Okay, fine. I’m sorry. But seriously. I’ve been here for half an hour and the amount of pining I’ve witnessed from him is insane.” She continued, working on another piece of metal.
“What’s insane?” You jumped, missing the nail again. You groaned. 
“Nothing, Steve. You all set up on the other side of the bus?” You finally hit the nail on the head.
“Yeah, we’re good to go. Sun’s setting as we speak.” Steve clicked his tongue, helping you and Max nail the last pieces of metal to the bus. 
“Her name is Max,” You spoke up, tilting your head towards Max. Steve looked at you, then to Max. 
“Steve Harrington. You’re Hargrove’s younger sister.” He knew he recognized the redhead from somewhere. 
“The one and only, unfortunately.” She muttered, finishing up her piece and stepping inside the bus where Lucas and Dustin were. 
“Was it something I said?” Steve frowned, hitting in the last nail for that piece of metal. You had finished yours now too and you shrugged.
“Come on, it’s about to get dark.” You suggested, picking up your supplies and stepping into the bus, Steve behind you. You were self conscious of Steve behind you now after the conversation you and Max had shared. Your face felt hot as you quickly moved to sit down against the rusted side of the bus. Steve sat down a bit farther from you, leaning against one of the old seats by the emergency exit on the roof where Lucas was. 
You frowned at Dustin’s rudeness towards Max as the two got into it. Their quarrel ended and Max huffed, turning to climb up the ladder to the roof with Lucas. 
“Good. Show her you don’t care,” Steve flicked open his lighter again and snapped it closed, extinguishing the flame. 
“I don’t.” Dustin snapped. Steve turned to your brother and winked at him. “Why are you winking, Steve?” Steve quickly averted his gaze, hurt flashing across his features for a moment as he tried to brush off Dustin’s harshness. 
“Dustin, don’t be like that. And that is horrible advice, Harrington.” You called him out from across the bus and your brother scowled at you. You could tell Dustin was down bad for Max. You stood up and walked over to the two, leaning against another discarded seat. 
“Guys! 10 o’clock!” Your head snapped up to Lucas and you rushed to a window, Steve finding the one next to you as you both looked where Lucas had seen the monster. 
“It’s not taking the bait.” Dustin knitted his brows together. The monster was just standing there, sniffing the bait but not actually eating it.
“Maybe it’s tired of cow.” Steve shrugged and picked up his baseball bat, walking towards the doors of the bus. 
“I’m coming with you,” you spoke up, finding an old crowbar next to one of the pried up seats. You grabbed it and followed behind Steve.
“No way, Henderson–” You cut Steve off by shoving him out the doors. 
“Shut up and just go.” You whispered, walking beside him to where the baby demogorgon was sniffing around. You raised the crowbar ready to swing when Lucas called out to you both again. 
“Watch out! 4 o’clock!” You snapped your head in that direction and felt your stomach sink. There was more than one of these things. Steve stayed where he was. You and Steve were now back to back, weapons raised and ready for a fight. 
“You ever fought before?” Steve spoke over your shoulder. You nodded, even though he couldn’t see you. 
“Yeah, remember the Byers’ house last year? Freshman year was also interesting,” you squeezed the crowbar in your hand as the monster started towards you. As it was about to jump onto you, you swung as hard as you could, sending it into a nearby car. You continued to swing as more pooled out from the ruins of the scrap yard. 
As you were swinging at a dog running at you, another was jumping onto you from the other side. It bit down on your arm and you yelled, ripping the creature off. It fell to the ground and you brought your crowbar down onto it, smashing its head.
You could hear Steve grunt and the smack of his bat behind you. You were both outnumbered. 
“Henderson, run!” He yelled, turning to face you. You took one last swing at one, earning a whimper from the dog-like creature as it flew back and then Steve was pulling you by the arm back towards the bus. You cried out as his fingers dug into the fresh wound you had received. He shot you an apologetic look and pushed you inside the bus. He ended up with his back flush against your front as he closed the doors. You stumbled back, acutely aware of how close he was and fell into the driver’s seat. He jumped back as the dogs started attacking the door and landed in your lap. If your face wasn’t red earlier, it sure as hell was now. 
“Shit! Sorry, Y/N.” He cursed, scrambling off of you and pulling you to the middle of the bus away from the door, this time by your good arm. You looked behind you to see a wide-eyed Dustin. He tackled you in a hug as the scratching from the outside of the door died down. He pulled away after a moment and then punched you in the arm. 
“What the hell, Dustin?” You yelled at him, rubbing your arm where you had just been assaulted. 
“Don’t you ever do that again!” He scolded. 
“Oh yeah, like I wanted to almost get mauled by a gaggle of baby demogorgons!” You threw your hands in the air. Dustin glared at you for a moment longer before Max and Lucas were dropping down with the rest of you. 
“They’re going somewhere,” Lucas supplied. You and Steve shared a look. You didn’t like where this was going. 
You walked out of the bathroom, having cleaned and wrapped your wound and went to find Steve and the kids. You had been assigned babysitting duty along with Steve, the two of you were in the kitchen as the kids discussed getting involved.
“No! We are on the bench! And we will stay on the bench until we are needed to play. Does everybody understand?” Steve threw a towel over his shoulder and jutted his hip out, hand resting on it.
“This isn’t some stupid sports games!” Mike argued. You couldn’t help but have sympathy for the boy. His best friend was being puppeteered by some monster from the Upside Down and he had just learned that his girlfriend was alive and had been with Chief Hopper this whole time. It had to be a lot to take in for him.
“I said, does everybody understand?” He raised his eyebrows, waiting for a response. A quiet chorus of agreements sounded from the kids and that satisfied him. You froze as a car revved into the driveway of the Byers. 
“That’s Billy. He’ll kill me– kill us if he finds us here.” Max panicked, looking to Lucas specifically. All the kids shared anxious looks. 
“I’ll go and talk to him. You all stay here– and keep an eye on them.” Steve directed the last part towards you. You nodded back at him and stepped back further into the house so Billy wouldn’t catch sight of you. You mentally face palmed as the kids piled up on the couch to peek out the window. 
“Stand back here, he’ll see you guys.” You hissed, paranoid. You knew Billy was a tough guy. He was most certainly a douche, but you knew the guy was jacked and that you might not put up a good fight against him. The kids didn’t budge and you swallowed. You heard them all gasp and you found yourself thinking the worst. All the kids ducked out of sight away from the window.
“Do you think he saw us?” Dustin whispered. The door getting slammed open answered his question and the kids got up quickly, piling behind you as you stepped away from the door. 
“Do my eyes deceive me? Y/N Henderson and Steve Harrington all in one night! What the hell are you doing with my sister,” Billy spat. He strode towards you and the kids retreated further. You stood up taller, putting on a facade of fearlessness. 
“Where is Steve?” You grit through your teeth. Billy was in your face now and your chests were almost pressed together. 
“You with Harrington, now? Little miss 4.0, band nerd and the dethroned ‘King of Hawkin’s High’, huh? You could do so much better.” Billy whispered in your ear before he pushed you back. You were thankful for the Byers’ dining room table behind you as you stumbled back, catching yourself on it. He turned his attention towards the kids and before you could stop him, he was grabbing Lucas by the collar of his shirt and slamming him against the china cabinet.
 “I told you to stay away from my sister!” Lucas kneed him in the crotch and Billy let go of him, allowing him to scramble back to his friends. “You’re so dead, Sinclair!” Billy roared, but a hand was on his shoulder, turning him away from you and the kids.
“No, you are!” Steve. You stood in front of the kids again, acting as a shield as Steve landed punches on Billy. Billy started laughing, making your blood run cold.
“Turns out you got some fire in you after all! I’ve been waiting to meet this King Steve everyone has been telling me so much about.” Steve’s chest heaved, high on adrenaline. He pushed Billy against the counter, punching him in the face. You watched Billy’s hand creep along the counter, grasping a ceramic plate. 
“Steve!” You called out, but he had already smashed the dish against the side of Steve’s head. Your feet were moving before you could process and you were ripping Billy by the back of his shirt away from Steve. He whipped around to face you, hand flying up to grip your throat. His other hand wrapped around your bandaged injury, digging his fingers into it. Your eyes filled with tears and you tried to scream, but only a choked whimper sounded out. 
“Look, Harrington. Your princess is here to rescue you!” Billy laughed, hand tightening around your throat. Steve came up behind Billy, sweeping his legs from beneath him and he fell, but you had been brought down with him. Steve pulled him off of you and you sucked in a breath of air, coughing in the process as tears rolled down your cheeks.  
“Don’t fucking touch her!” Steve flipped Billy beneath him and raised his fist. He had gotten a few good hits in before Billy was flipping them around. He punched Steve in the face over and over again and you watched as Steve’s head lolled to the side limply with each hit. 
“Stop!” You begged, trying to push him off of Steve. “You’re gonna kill him!” Billy was off of Steve and on you before you could even blink. He backhanded you, your head hitting the wooden floor with so much force you swore you saw stars.
“What’s it matter to you, Henderson?” He scoffed, punching you one last time before another dish was sacrificed for your own well-being. Billy fell back from you and Max jabbed one of the syringes filled with the medicine that had knocked out Will into his neck.
“What did you do, you little shit?” Billy fell onto his back away from you and you scooted backwards as Max crept towards Billy.
“You are going to leave and you will never bother me or my friends again.” You crawled over to Steve on the other side of the room as Max threatened Billy.
“Steve, come on. Wake up,” you sat beside him, hands smacking his face ever so lightly. His face was a bruised and bloody mess. His eyebrow and lip was split open, his hairline matted with dry and fresh blood, left eye swollen. He didn’t budge. 
“Y/N, come on. We gotta go,” Dustin was tugging on your hand and you looked up at him. “You look like shit,” he added quietly, taking in the discoloration of your face. 
“He’s not waking up, Dustin.” You said dumbly, ignoring his last remark. Your brain was still trying to catch up with what had just happened and your throat hurt. 
“We’ll bring him with us, but we have to go. A party member needs assistance.” Dustin helped you to your feet and you stood there for a second, blinking away the dizziness. You helped Mike and Dustin carry Steve to Billy’s car. 
“Can you drive?” You turned around to face Max, squinting so you could only see one of her instead of three.
“I don’t think I could if I wanted to right now. My visions fucked.” You rasped out, blinking and willing the dizziness away. 
“Looks like I’m getting some practice in,” Max huffed, opening the driver's door. You got in the back with your brother, Mike and an unconscious Steve. Lucas sat up front with Max as she started the car, jerking it out of park and stepping on the gas, jerking all of you backwards. God help you stay sane through the rest of the night.
You sat in the passenger seat of Steve’s car, Dustin in the back and Steve driving just like you had started earlier that day. You were all silent, mulling over what had happened that night. Your head was killing you, Billy’s hits still having a lingering effect on you. You were sure Steve was fairing way worse, but he was doing well enough that he could drive you and Dustin home. Your vision still wasn’t faring too well. Billy must’ve hit your head in just the right spot to where he screwed up your eyesight.
Steve pulled into your driveway, silence still drowning you out. Dustin got out without a word, clearly exhausted from today’s events. Your heart hurt with the fact that he had already gone through so much shit and he wasn’t even in high school. You went to leave, but a thought stopped you, your hand resting on the door handle. 
Steve Harrington’s parents were never around. It was obvious with all of the parties he used to throw and how he could basically do whatever he wanted at any time. You felt your stomach sink at the thought of Steve going home to be by himself when he was still obviously hurting– mentally and physically. You knew how long the night had been for him. It was late into the night and all of the lights in your house were off, you knew for a fact that your mom was asleep. She wouldn’t see Steve come into the house and he could easily leave out the window in the morning since your room was on ground level. 
“Hey, Steve?” You spoke up, voice still strained. He looked at you, still silent. Your lips formed a thin line. You couldn’t let him go home alone. “Do you maybe wanna come in? I can help you take care of your… face.” You smiled awkwardly, shoulders raising in a bit of a shrug. He stared at you for a moment. 
“Yeah, yeah that sounds nice.” He finally said, pulling the keys out of the ignition. You gave him a real smile this time, finally getting out of his car. He followed you to the front door and you opened it for him, letting him inside. You led him to the bathroom that was in between you and Dustin’s room. You flicked on the light, opening the door more, letting him in. You opened the medicine cabinet and grabbed some gauze, disinfectant and some bandaids, to which you almost missed because of your poor eyesight. You ducked down, opening the cabinet under the sink. You pulled out a washcloth and closed the door back up, standing up straight. You looked at Steve behind you in the mirror and saw his gaze tracing up your figure. You coughed, bowing your head and turning on the faucet as your face heated up for the millionth time that night. You wet the washcloth and turned off the faucet stepping to the side. 
“Sit,” you instructed, pointing to the edge of the sink. He hopped up without a word and you stepped in between his knees, reaching up to dab the washcloth on his split eyebrow. You squinted as you worked, vision becoming clearer when you did so. You didn’t want to mess up Steve’s face anymore than it already was. 
You were so focused on cleaning the right place on his face that you didn’t see the small smile that crept onto his cut lips. Steve watched you, eyes scanning your face with a soft gaze. He thought the concentrated look on your face was adorable. 
You moved onto wiping his hairline, then his nose, then finally his lips. You stepped back from him, satisfied with your work and grabbed the disinfectant, dabbing it on the clean side of the cloth and wiping at his eyebrow. He winced, flinching back as the cloth made contact with his cut. 
“Shit, I’m sorry.” You whispered, pulling the cloth away quickly. 
“It’s okay,” he grabbed your wrist gently and led it back to the cut on his eyebrow. He held it there for a moment before he was letting go, hand falling to rest in his lap. You dabbed at it a bit more and then set the cloth down. 
“You should probably shower, then you can put a bandaid on it. I’ll see if I can find some clean clothes for you.” You started to open the door, but he grabbed your hand, twisting you back around to him. 
“Sweetheart, I’m not the only one who’s worse for wear.” Steve tsked, pulling you back. He hopped off the counter and grabbed a washcloth from the same place you had. Mimicking your process and wetting the cloth. He brought it up to your temple, wiping the blood away. You tried not to cringe as your headache flared up again and your vision became fuzzier. He finished in that spot and moved on to your nose. “Oh, your nose is definitely broken. That shithead,” Steve cursed, dabbing extremely light so he wouldn’t hurt it more. 
“I was the one who intervened.” You shrugged, suddenly finding the floor more interesting. 
“You didn’t have to do that, you know? I had it all under control.” He furrowed his eyebrows, tongue poking out as he continued cleaning your face.
“Yes, because being pummeled while unconscious just screams ‘I have it under control’.” You raised an eyebrow.
“Okay, maybe not, but you didn’t need to do any of that. I mean shit, Y/N look at your neck.” You turned to look at yourself in the mirror and cringed at the line of blue and purple that circled your neck. 
“My mom’s gonna kill me.” You breathed, fingers reaching up to trace it. 
“You could just say you got a hickey.” Steve shrugged, discarding the bloody cloth with his own on the edge of the sink. 
“In the shape of a hand? Yeah, very believable. I think she would die and go to heaven if I got a hickey in the first place,” you mumbled, turning back to face him. “Thank you.”
“Only returning the favor, Henderson.” He smiled back at you. You bent down to pick up the dirtied washcloths, fully intending to throw them out so your mother wouldn’t see and opened the door. 
“I’ll go find you some clothes. Be back in ten,” with that, you closed the door. You walked to your kitchen, throwing the cloths in the trash and covering them up with other garbage. You then went into the coat closet, knowing that your mom kept some of your dad’s old clothes in the closet. You weren’t sure why she was still holding onto his things, but for the first time it came in handy. You pulled a t-shirt down, sweatpants, and some socks. You piled the clothes in your arms and made your way back down the hall, being as quiet as you could to not wake up your mom. 
“Y/N?” You jumped out of your skin and you turned around to see Dustin standing in an old baggy science shirt and some pj pants. He rubbed his eyes. “Who’s in our shower?” 
“Uh, Steve.” You offered, smiling tight lipped. 
“Steve?” 
“Yeah, uh. Steve Harrington. You know, the one with the hair–” “Y/N, I know who Steve is. Why is he in our house?” Dustin stared at you, mouth slightly agape. 
“Because I invited him in.” You shrugged, the clothes in your hands rustling against your shirt as your arms moved. 
“You invited him in? To like– stay the night?” Dustin pried. Dustin obviously wasn’t convinced. Or he was convinced of a completely different idea unknownst to you. He knew that you liked Steve, even if you hadn’t really realized it yet. Dustin was witness to the prolonged stares and touches and it seemed tremendously obvious to everyone except for you two that you liked each other. 
“Yeah. I felt bad just leaving him alone at his house. You saw what happened to him tonight,” you tried to argue. 
“Or maybe you just didn’t want him to leave you alone?” Dustin smirked, raising his eyebrows. Your jaw dropped at his insinuation. 
“Don’t be stupid, Dustin. Go to bed. It’s literally almost four in the morning.” You shooed him to his room. He laughed to himself as he walked towards his room. “Goodnight, Dusty.” You spoke before he closed his door. He popped his head back out, curls a mess on his head. 
“Goodnight, Y/N.” He smiled, genuinely this time. He closed his door and you continued to the bathroom, clothes for Steve in hand. You tapped your knuckles against the door. 
“Come in!” Steve called and you opened the door. You froze in place, almost dropping the clothes in your hands as your eyes fell upon a shirtless Steve. You stood there for a moment before a hand snapped in front of your face. “Henderson?” 
“Shit, sorry. These are for you. My room is to the right of this one, just when you’re done, come to my room and knock before you come in so, you know, you don’t walk in on me naked or something like that–” 
“Y/N, thank you. I’ll be there in a minute.” Steve grinned at you, taking the clothes from your hands. You snapped your mouth shut and spun on your heel, quickly leaving the bathroom and rushing to your room. You closed the door and cringed. 
“Why do I open my mouth?” You groaned, striding across your room to your closet. You pulled out your oversized band tee and your sleeping shorts, laying them out on your bed. You pulled your shirt over your head and undid your bra, chucking them into the laundry basket in the corner. You unzipped your jeans and slid them down your legs, stepping out of them and tossing them as well. You slipped on the t-shirt and shorts and breathed out, feeling better now that your dirty, grimey clothes weren’t on you. 
You sat down on your bed and looked over to your desk. The light was still on and your half-completed homework sat where you had left it. You thought about completing it and you walked over, looking down at the desk but frowning when the words blurred into each other. No chance you were getting that done anytime soon. You jumped when you heard a knock at your door. 
You opened it and there stood Steve. He was in the sweatpants and socks you had given him, but the shirt was nowhere to be found. Moles dotted his torso like constellations. His hair was damp, but still had some volume to it. You thought back to earlier that day when you had found him standing in your doorway, looking incredibly out of place. He didn’t look so out of place anymore. You could get used to it, in fact. 
“Sorry, I usually sleep with no shirt, if that’s okay with you?” His voice became timid, eyes searching your face for any dispute. You closed the door behind him as he walked in.
“No, that’s fine. I-I don’t mind. You can have the bed,” you pointed to the bed over your shoulder. “Sorry I don’t have Farrah Fawcett spray.” You joked, moving to throw a pillow and a blanket down on the floor for yourself but Steve spoke up.
“Haha,” he said flatly, “and no way, this is your house. You’re letting me stay over too,” he disagreed, moving to sit on the floor where you had thrown the blanket and pillow. You couldn’t find the energy to fight with him on it, so you sat on the bed, shuffling under the comforter and pulling a pillow under your head. You listened as Steve shuffled around on your floor and got comfortable. Silence filled the room. 
You stared at your ceiling, replaying the night events in your head. You looked down at your arm that had been bitten by one of the demodogs, the bandage soaked through in a few small places. You should probably look at it, but you didn’t budge. Your vision remained blurry and your throat hurt like hell. You felt tears spring to your eyes. You bit your lip, holding back whimpers and sniffing. 
“Y/N?” A head of hair was popping up from beside your bed. “You okay?” You sucked in a breath, swallowing the lump in your throat. 
“Can’t sleep,” you managed. “I think he messed up my eyesight. Everything’s been so damn fuzzy since he backhanded me.” You confessed. Steve was sitting on the edge of your bed by you in a second. 
“I thought it was weird you were squinting so damn much. That fucker.” You were scared that Billy had taken a part of your life away. You knew he had taken your peace of mind already, and you resented him for that, but he had also taken your good eyesight which was permanent as well as the demodog’s bite on your arm; a physical reminder of the hellish night you had lived through. 
“Do you think I’ll ever feel normal again? Like even after last year and the demogorgon; I don’t think I’ve had a good night’s sleep. I’ve been paranoid constantly. I never really healed from that, and tonight? It’s like it reopened old wounds and now I have this god-awful reminder twenty four-seven of what happened tonight.” You whispered, eyes still on the ceiling. 
“I know what you mean, trust me,” you turned to face him. His eyes were on you, deep brown boring into your soul. “We can only try our best. But I can tell you that this time you don’t have to do it alone.” He offered a small smile.
“Can you come up here?” Your voice was small, afraid of rejection but also desperate for him to be by your side. 
“Of course,” he breathed, and you scooted over, making room for him on the bed. He bent down and grabbed the blanket and the pillow on the floor. He put the pillow beside your own and slid under the covers with you, draping the blanket over the both of you. 
You made sure there was a space in between the two of you, but you were both facing each other. The once suffocating, awkward silences you had shared were now comfortable. 
Steve looked at you– really looked at you for the first time since the car ride to the railroad tracks. You looked exhausted to your core, your once bright eyes now dull and unfocused. Your nose was still at a crooked angle and your lips were parted ever so slightly. Despite all of it, you were one of the most beautiful– if not the most beautiful girl he had ever seen. Steve almost kicked himself for never realizing just how breathtaking you were. You were also impossibly smart, witty, funny, caring, honest, and tough. It all clicked for Steve at that moment. He liked you. And he wasn’t mad about it. He didn’t get the sinking feeling he did when talking to other girls after Nancy. You just felt so… right. Everything about you was perfect. 
“Do I have something on my face?” You questioned after he had been staring at you for a couple of silent minutes now. Your face grew hot under his gaze.
“No, no. I just kinda realized something. Even though it’s been practically staring at me in the face all day.” He laughed, tucking his arm under his head. 
“I don’t think I could pick up on anything if it was staring at me in the face in the midst of the chaos today.” You smiled at his laugh. You liked it when he laughed because his eyes crinkled at the edges and his nose scrunched up ever so slightly. It was cute. “What is it?” 
“You’re incredibly beautiful. It’s unfair.” He breathed, tongue poking out to lick his lips. A light smile grazed his face. You stared at him a moment longer before you started laughing. 
“Oh my gosh, good one, Harrington.” You said in between giggles, shoving him in the chest playfully. Your laughter died down and Steve’s stare never left you. “Wait, you’re not joking?” You blinked, wide-eyed. 
“Okay we need to work on your self esteem issues… but no, I’m not joking, Y/N.” You felt the air get knocked out of your lungs. You stared at him, probably looking like a fish out of water with your mouth agape. 
“What?” Your voice was so quiet that it was barely heard by Steve. “You think I’m pretty? What about Nancy?”
“I prefer beautiful– drop dead gorgeous even,” he grinned at you, propping himself up on one of his elbows. “I loved Nancy, but I’ve moved on. Stuff wasn’t working between us and I don’t think it ever would’ve. It’s been like over half a year.” 
“So you’re not in love with Nancy anymore?” You raised an eyebrow.
“Nope. I’ve found someone way better,” his eyes flicked from your lips to your eyes for a moment before– “Can I kiss you?”
You nodded dumbly, unable to form words and Steve snaked the hand he wasn't propped up with to your back, pulling you closer towards him. You looked up at him and he leaned down, lips meeting your own. His hand that was on your back moved to your side, finger brushing along your ribcage. You held his face in your hands, pulling him down farther into the kiss. He shifted to where his body was over your own, the hand that he was using to prop himself up moving to the side of your face. His tongue traced your bottom lip and you opened your mouth a bit, allowing him further access. You trailed your hands further down, hands running down his shoulders and gripping his forearms. The muscles in his arms twitched beneath your touch. The hand he had on your side moved down, going underneath your shirt and trailing upwards, fingers softly skimming your stomach. You gasped and Steve smirked into the kiss. 
You pulled away, out of breath and rested your foreheads together, eyes still closed. His hand under your shirt continued to run up and down your body, retracing your form. Your hands squeezed his biceps and you finally opened your eyes. Steve was staring back at you, eyes crinkled at the edges and a dopey grin on his face. 
“You are gorgeous, Y/N Henderson. You’re smart, witty, funny, brutally honest, kind hearted and so beautiful.” His breath tickled your nose and you smiled up at him. 
“You are beautiful too, Steve Harrington. You’re brave, level-headed, compassionate, loyal, stubborn, goofy, and so beautiful.” You kissed him again, wishing you could relay the honesty in your words. The both of you pulled away and Steve laid back down beside you, hands still lingering on your skin. He pulled your back flush against his front and wrapped his arms around you. The two of you stayed like that for a while, enjoying each other's presence. A thought occurred to you. 
“Max said something at the scrap yard earlier,” you turned your face just a bit towards Steve. He hummed, encouraging you to keep going. “She said she had noticed you staring longingly at me.” You chuckled as Steve scoffed. 
“Okay I may have found myself staring at you once or twice.” He admitted, arms pulling you closer to him. He moved his face to the crook of your neck. 
“She said you were staring longingly at my ass.” Steve shot up from the crook of your neck and cleared his throat, coughing a bit. You waited for his response. 
“Yeah…” he paused, “maybe once or twice.” 
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crappymixtape · 23 years
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🍦 steve harrington masterlist
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hi, lovely. welcome to my steve harrington masterlist! everything is organized below, so please browse the shelves and find what you're looking for. if you can't find it, please don't hesitate to message me or search by tag ( i've tagged it all accordingly by content: smut, fluff, angst, etc – and length: series or not, etc ) ♥️ kate
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📚 SERIALIZED & MULTI-PART FICS // MASTER LIST
( LINK ABOVE FOR MY MASTER LIST OF LONGER / SERIALIZED OR MULTI–PART FICS, NOTED IF COMPLETE OR IN–PROGRESS, STEVE x YOU // mature content marked appropriately )
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💌 REQUESTS // MASTER LIST
( LINK ABOVE FOR MY MASTER LIST OF REQUESTS ACROSS EVENTS / CELEBRATIONS / INBOX ASKS / MOOD BOARDS, STEVE x YOU // mature content marked appropriately )
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( LONGER FICS, USUALLY OVER 10K, BONUS CONTENT INCLUDED OCCASIONALLY, STEVE x YOU //  mature content marked appropriately )
"laugh like lovers, kiss like friends" – you’re getting married – steve’s in town for the ceremony and it dredges up old memories, ones you thought you’d forgotten, but they still burn bright and you have to decide – will you say ‘i do’ or will your heart realize what you really want has been there all along?  | (  9.1k, angst, fluff, friends to lovers, steve x you, steve x reader )
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( SMALLER, ONE-SHOTS / BLURBS / REQUESTS / HEAD CANONS, STEVE x YOU // mature content marked appropriately )
"tell you when" – steve’s had a type for more than a while, all soft and cute and nancy wheeler and not you, but you’re around each other all the time lately it feels like, have been with each other before and in the heat of the moment it slips out – you ask him to be a little rough with it and it surprises steve how much he wants to please you… 18+ | ( 431 words – smut, sprinkle of fluff, friends with benefits to something more? steve x you, steve x reader )
"eyes half shut" – hawkins high alumni always run the end of year carnival to help raise funds for the school and steve is always in charge of the alumni basketball game, but this year they’re trying out a kissing booth and who better to headline than steve harrington? | ( 3.9k – a little angst, a little fluff, kinda enemies to kinda lovers, steve x you, steve x reader )
"this is how it ends" – you went with everyone to kill vecna, into the upside down, and you knew the risks, but none of you thought it would go this far – will you get to tell steve how you really feel before it’s too late? • *18+ only  | (  2.8k, angst, trauma, mentions of blood and violence, friends to lovers, steve x you, steve x reader )
"hold your breath" – you take steve to see eddie and corroded coffin at a little hole in the wall venue, just the two of you, and you find yourselves getting lost in the music…and each other • *18+ only | (  2.2k, smut, fingering in public, tiny bits of fluff, established relationship, steve x you, steve x reader )
"all i want for christmas" – steve got you what he hopes is the best christmas gift of all time, but he's nervous and afraid of being soft and vulnerable in front of everyone and what if you hate it, but you don't and it's perfect | (  1.5k, fluff, friends to lovers, steve x you, steve x reader )
"i'll hold you together" – steve goes to a party without you because tommy’s there and he wouldn’t let robin and eddie go alone, but when they get home something’s clearly wrong •  *18+ only  | (  2k, angst, trauma, mentions of blood, friends to lovers, steve x you, steve x reader )
"move like water" – it took so damn long, but finally you saved up enough to get your own place, and while it’s nothing fancy it’s yours, all yours, just like steve  •  *18+ only  | (  1.7k, smut all the smut, a sprinkle of fluff, established relationship, steve x you, steve x reader )
"where you go i go too" – everyone’s home for christmas break, so steve drags you to a party, but tommy’s there being a creep – steve has to confront an 'old friend' | ( 2.3k, fluff, angst, friends to lovers, steve x you, steve x reader )
"endless summer" – steve’s pool is always full during the indiana summers and he loves his friends, but he just wants you • *18+ only  | (  2.8k, smut, fluff, friends to lovers, steve x you, steve x reader  )
"lovesick" – during your shift at family video steve notices something’s off about you, you’re not looking too good, so he closes up a little early to take care of you | ( 1.3k, pure fluff, friends to lovers, steve x you, steve x reader )
"have yourself a merry little christmas" – christmas is hard for steve, he hates it, any memories he has are of his parents out of town and spending it with his grandma or alone after she passed when he was 16, but with you it’s different | (  1.2k, sad, fluff, angst, friends to lovers, steve x you, steve x reader )
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bimrwolf · 1 year
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Like a Random Tuesday in December
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steve harrington x afab!reader words: 12,457 warnings: little bit of smut !! 18+ (minors dni) ; the smut is very brief so plsplspls do not expect a lot summary: Reader had always had a crush on Steve, but he is not interested. Yet, when he starts to get closer to her, he realizes he made a mistake because it might be too late. a/n: hiiiii. long time no see for a stevie fic... i apologize university is... you know. i started working on this since NOVEMBER of 22' i hope you can enjoy it, because i enjoyed writing it!
Y/n was five years old when she had her first kiss. She was part of the Dribbling Tots basketball team that her father had forced her to be part of. He had grown up as a sports guy, having met her mother at college while he played linebacker. 
Although his first child was a girl, that didn’t stop him from doing whatever he could to make sure she would be the first woman in the NFL. Sadly, she was too young to join the PeeWee football team, so he had to settle for the next best thing. 
But at five years old, Y/n didn’t understand the reason she was forced to play this game, and her fine motor skills were still below average, dribbling the really bouncy ball was hard. As an only child she wasn’t used to sharing her belongings either, so when a small chubby boy stole the ball from her, she crossed her arms across her chest and began to wail as loud as she could. Her father was one of the coaches and he tried to calm her down, but she wouldn’t budge. 
The small chubby boy had come back to her, ball in his hand and held it out for her. The coach for the other team started to yell at him, “Steve, that’s not how we play basketball, son!” But the boy ignored him. 
She sniffled, looking at the orange ball in his tiny hands. “That wasn’t nice.”
“I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings.” He let the ball drop out of his hands and walked up to her, his innocent brown eyes nearly made her tears dry. His arms wrapped around her and she could hear the echoed “aws” from mothers watching. He broke apart from her but not without leaning in and placing a small kiss on her lips like she had seen her father do to her mother anytime she was upset. 
One would think maybe that was when Y/n first had her crush on Steve Harrington. And maybe if she really thought about it, that’s when it began. Except, that stomach drop feeling and heart racing never occurred until the seventh grade on a random Tuesday in December. He had shown up to class late, rummaged through his backpack and sighed before looking behind him. She didn’t notice at first because she was etching her pencil into the desk. 
“Hey.” He tapped his finger on the wooden desk. 
She looked up at him, surprised, Steve Harrington hadn’t really talked to her since grade school. “Uh… hey?” 
He gave her a charming smile, running his fingers through his hair which had recently been cut. “Do you have an extra pencil I could borrow?” 
She had given him one of her favorite pencils, only a tiny scratch had been on it. Okay, it wasn’t her favorite, but when he had returned it at the end of class it became her most prized possession the rest of the school year. Well, until she lost it. But her crush never subdued throughout school. 
Even watching the goofy big tooth boy grow taller, stronger, and more attractive she couldn’t help but feel her cheeks heat up whenever he was near. Her friends would tease her at lunch when she would stop mid-sentence because Steve had just stood up and caught a chicken nugget in the air or she would giggle at a joke she listened to. 
But one thing was she never told him. Not once. Y/n saw the type of girls Steve Harrington went out with and she definitely was not the small and petite Nancy Wheeler. It seemed like her feelings towards Steve would be nothing more than a school girl crush. In fact, she had rarely thought about the dark haired boy since prom. Because although he looked sad, he looked pretty. And she swore he was about to ask her to dance until some redhead jumped in front of him. That was until he decided to start working at Family Video. 
Keith mentioned there would be two new employees and all the training was on her, per usual. Y/n was Keith’s underpaid assistant but she never argued because he would eventually leave and she’d be crowned the new manager. But she didn’t expect on a Saturday morning that she would walk in to see Steve Harrington and a short haired girl named Robin Buckley waiting outside for their first ever shift. 
She tried her best not to fumble her keys while unlocking the door or run into the cart of returned movies that the closers conveniently forgot to put away. She tried at least. The cart hit her hip so hard it fell down. She immediately cursed under her breath, bending down to pick up the spilled tapes on the ground. 
Both new employees jumped to help her as she sputtered apologies and they didn’t have to help. Her breath hitched. Steve’s shoulder brushed against hers as he reached for a copy of Breakfast at Tiffany’s and suddenly she was back in Mrs. Robinson’s pre-cal class, warm cheeks, and that flip in her stomach that told her maybe her school girl crush hadn’t gone away. Lucky for her, she was the one who had been given the weekly task to make the schedule. She had ensured to never have a shift with him– at least alone. 
She thought it wasn’t obvious she was actively avoiding him until one day he had come in with lunch for Robin. Except, Robin had already gone down the street to Dairy Queen with a friend. Steve’s face dropped when Y/n had broke the news to him. One would think him and Robin were together but it took three hours for her to come to the conclusion that they were nothing more than platonic. 
Steve set the bag on the counter. He ran a hand through his hair, a strand fell down to his forehead, and she pathetically had to turn around to make sure she wasn’t drooling. “Do you want to eat lunch together?” 
She froze. “W-what?” 
Steve had already started to unpack the brown bag, shoving a fry in his mouth. “I don’t know what you like on your burger. Robin is weird and hates everything except cheese and pickles.” It was difficult to understand him with his mouth full of more salty fries and the fact she was still stunned. Steve must have noticed how she didn’t budge, staring at him with wide eyes because he looked up, tilting his head. “You're not hungry? Wait, don’t tell me. Are you one of those vegetarians? If you are, that's totally okay… you can eat my fries! Fries are a vegetable, right?” 
She put her hand up. “No… I’m… thank you.” That was all she could manage to say before she grabbed the wrapped burger on the counter to take a bite. 
“You don’t talk a lot, do you?” Steve wiped a dot of mustard from the corner of his mouth. “You never did in school.” 
She giggled. “You never talked to me in school.”
“I didn’t?” 
She tapped her chin and looked up as she pretended to go through her memories. “I recall one conversation when you asked to borrow a pencil.” 
Steve made a sound and motioned his hands at her. “See!” His laugh was infectious, silky, and warm. 
She had rolled her eyes, cheeks heated and stomach fluttered. “It’s okay. I never expected Steve Harrington to talk to someone like me.” 
It wasn’t dramatic but his face dropped and eyes averted elsewhere. He took another bite of his burger, slow and deep in thought. She wanted to apologize. It was a harmless joke. Yet, she could tell his old self was a sore subject. “Sorry I was an idiot back then. So, don’t say that about yourself. You’re pretty cool.” 
She looked down at her burger, avoiding the toothy grin plastered on his face. “You think I’m cool?” 
Steve shoved the last bite of his burger in his mouth, shrugging. “Yeah of course you’re cool. You’re the one who convinced Keith to let us put a coffee machine in the break room.”
Her face fell briefly. “Yeah… um thank you again for the burger but I need to get back to work before the rush.” She was lying, and he knew that. There was never a rush until the evening. 
He coughed awkwardly, grabbing his trash off the counter so he could place it in the bin. “Right. Well, I guess I’ll see you later?”
She only gave him a small smile, sighing in relief when the door chimed as Robin walked in, eyes wide at the sight of Steve. “I didn’t know you were working today?” 
“I brought you lunch,” he answered with a bored tone, walking towards her. 
“Oh… I was on a…” She looked over at the girl rewinding tapes, pretending not to listen to their conversation. “I was hanging out with April.” 
Steve’s eyes widened. “April from the corner store? With the…?” He grabbed imaginary boobs. 
Robin rolled her eyes, hitting him in the chest. “Gross, Steve. Are there any fries left? I’m still starving.” She grabbed the empty sack out of his hand, frowning. “I thought you said you brought me lunch?” 
Steve made a sound, glancing at the girl behind the counter. “I had lunch with Y/n instead.” 
Robin’s face contorted into something Steve knew all too well– mischief and curiosity. Robin loved to jump to conclusions. 
“Stop,” he whispered so only she could hear. He started to mess with some tapes on a shelf so it looked less suspicious. 
Robin threw her hands up. “I didn’t say anything.”
He narrowed his eyes looking back at the girl who was oblivious to the conversation and then back at his best friend. “She’s not my type.”
“I wasn’t your type either.” She jabbed back.
He blew a sigh out of his nose, opening his mouth to say something, but decided against it. He looked back at the girl.
Robin leaned closer, also bringing her voice to a whisper. “She definitely has a crush on you.” She snorted when Steve fumbled with a tape in his hand before placing it back. However, Robin took it and put it in a different spot– the correct spot. 
“She does not. She doesn’t even talk to me!” He had said the last part a little too loud, but fortunately for him she had slipped into the storage room. Her ears were out of range of their conversation. 
Robin thumped him on the forehead. “You dingus. She doesn’t talk to you because she has a crush on you, duh.” 
Steve rubbed his hand over his face. “Even if she does have a crush on me. I’m not interested.” 
Robin shook her head in disbelief, handing him the empty sack back. “Right. Because she’s not your type.” She didn’t allow him to answer, ending the conversation by telling him she’d see him later. 
And of course, it took Robin exactly twenty-seven minutes to interrogate Y/n about Steve. Business was slower than usual, and her boredom turned into twenty questions. Robin had learned more about her co-worker in fifteen minutes than the few months she had been working there.
Her favorite food, color, and astrology chart. And now she was down to her last few questions. She needed to use them wisely. “So… what do you think about Steve?” Robin tried to be nonchalant. 
Y/n didn’t react, but she noticed the way her shoulders tensed up. “Not sure what you mean by that.” 
Robin shrugged, twirling a strand of hair around her finger mindlessly. “Oh… he just mentioned something to me. It’s probably nothing.” With her plan, she walked off, pushing the cart of returned tapes around, taking her sweet time to find their right places. 
“Oh.” Was all Y/n had said before a customer walked in. But as soon as they walked out, Y/n joined Robin by the Horror section. “I’m curious. What did he say?”
Robin motioned her hand in a circle. “You know, this and that. How he thinks you hate him because you ignore him all the time.” It was a stretched lie. But it was her bait, and by the expression on the girl’s face, she was hooked. 
“I… don’t hate Steve. Does he really think that?” Her face was full of concern. She even looked so worried her face was green as if she wanted to throw up. 
Robin had to hold in the laughter. “It’s okay. I know it’s because you have a crush on him.” 
She pushed the cart away, leaving Y/n behind. Her mouth had fallen open from shock. “W-what? No I don’t!” 
“Okay,” Robin hummed. 
“Even if I did like him. That’s not why I ignore him. It's a coincidence,” she continued. 
“Don’t you make the schedules?” Robin’s brow rose, putting the last tape away. She leaned on the cart. 
Y/n huffed, crossing her arms. “I do not have a crush on him.”
“You already said that.” 
“And I’m repeating it because I feel like you don’t believe me.” 
“Because I don’t believe you.” 
The two stared at one another, neither wanted to break first. Y/n had always gotten along with Robin, but she never considered her a close enough friend to be asked such personal questions. She never went around trying to dive deeper into Robin’s romantic affairs.
Not that she ever saw her flirt with anyone that came in or talk about the very few cute boys that rolled in and out of Family Video. 
It was Y/n who finally broke, the sound of the door chime turning her attention to an older woman hobbling in. The rest of the shift the two girls didn’t speak. But Y/n occasionally caught Robin looking over at her, a smirk plastered on her face. It was like Robin had figured everything out about her.
***
The inevitable occurred. It was Thursday, but not just any Thursday. It was Halloween. And Robin Buckley had caught the flu. Not only did Keith force her to cancel all of her late night plans, but Y/n had to work with Steve Harrington– alone.
She dreaded the shift as soon as she pulled up to her designated parking spot. Steve’s sleek BMW parked right next to it. Normally when she parked next to him, she always caught him doing his hair or checking to make sure his teeth were still white.
But today, there was no sign of him waiting in the car before their shift. Before she could question it, the door to Family Video opened, two girls came out giggling. Steve was the one holding the door. She couldn’t help it but to roll her eyes. 
When he saw her get out of the car, he tilted his head, smiled softly, and waved at her. It was more than odd to see him show up before her. Keith already had a file full of tardiness warnings. “Nice costume.” Steve kept the door held open for her as she walked up to the store.
She instinctively touched the cat ears on her head. Steve followed close behind her back into the store. There were only a few customers browsing the store when she walked in. “Yeah, well thanks to Robin my plans on staying home doing nothing turned into scrambling to find something quick.”
Steve reached out and poked the orange and black ears, sniggering. “It wasn’t a requirement to wear a costume.”
She swatted his hand away and put a hand on her hip. “I know that. But it makes the shift more fun.” 
“You could’ve made it more fun for me and dressed as one of the Pussycats.” He smirked, crossing his arms over his chest.
Her cheeks heated up. Y/n walked to the counter and picked up the folder for the closing shift check-list, scanning what needed to be done. 
She glanced at the brunette who had followed her. He leaned against the counter, watching her. “If you should know, I was Josie last year for Halloween. This is my work appropriate costume.” She looked him up and down. “It’s a shame you didn’t want to dress up. You would have made a good Alan.”
His brows furrowed. “Who’s Alan?” 
“The Pussycat’s roadie and Josie’s boyfriend.” Her eyes widened at what she had just said. She turned to face him, shaking her head violently. “I- I didn’t mean it like that.” 
Steve licked his lips and opened his mouth as if he wanted to say something important. “I’m going to go check on our customers.” 
She wanted to kick herself watching Steve give an awkward tightlipped smile, and walk away to the other side of the store. Instead, she had to put on a fake smile as she checked out customers. This was the exact reason she avoided being alone with him. Her awkward nature was always illuminated in her conversations. 
And it seemed like the night only dragged excruciatingly slow. Occasionally groups of teenagers would come in like a herd, Steve scolding them not to run around. And then there were periods of times that it was just the two of them. The only sound came from the ticking of the clock and the film that was playing on the TV above the counter. 
Then three familiar boys stormed into the store. There was a short curly-haired one, looking around as if he was on a mission. “Steve!” He had shouted towards her co-worker who was fixing a display. 
Steve turned around with a huge smile. “Henderson!” 
She couldn’t help but watch in bewilderment as the two greeted one another. “Where’s Robin?” The tall scrawny dark-haired boy of the group asked, coming up to the counter to get a piece of candy from a bowl that Keith had put out. 
“Sick,” Steve answered him. He looked over at Y/n, who stood awkwardly as the three boys all made a sound of disappointment. 
“Does this mean we can’t-” The curly haired boy’s words were cut off because Steve thumped him in the head, giving him a warning look. “What was that for?” He rubbed the spot, confused.
The other two boys kept quiet, as if they knew why Steve had tried to shut the boy up. “Let’s just go Dustin.” The dark skinned boy said. He motioned his eyes towards Y/n.
“Oh.” Dustin nodded, looking over at her. He gave her a toothy grin, his braces gleaming from the fluorescent lights. “Right… uh… well I guess we’ll see you later, Steve.” 
The three boys all gave a disappointed sigh, their shoulders slouched as they made their way towards the door. 
“Wait,” Y/n called out. The three boys stopped, turning around quickly. “You boys didn’t come in here to rent an R-rated movie… did you?” She raised a brow. 
They all looked at one another.
“Or did you? Because my co-worker here lets you?” She tilted her head, trying to hold back the laughter from interrogating them. They gave a panicked look towards Steve, who was pretending not to listen. She looked over at him, narrowing her eyes. “But Steve wouldn’t do that. Because he knows that’s a fireable offense, right?” 
Steve stuttered, trying to come up with the words. “Uh… yeah… right.” 
“And as one of the leader’s, it’s my duty to write you up if I see you let fourteen year-olds rent an R-rated movie.” Steve looked down at the ground, avoiding her glare from being caught red-handed. Y/n let out a sigh. “I’m going to the backroom to get something. Since I can’t see the store or anything that happens while I’m in there, will you make sure any customers are taken care of while I’m gone?” 
Steve looked up at her. He was unsure what to say. So, he just nodded. 
Y/n eyed the three boys, giving them a small smile before walking to the back. She could hear them quietly celebrate as she entered the backroom. Of course, there was nothing for her to get or do in there. She was waiting until she heard the boys say bye, and ring of the bell, letting her know they were gone. 
When she came back out, Steve’s back was leaned on the counter, arms crossed, watching the front door. The sunset streamed in, casting a glow on his tanned skin. She felt her cheeks heat up when she noticed the muscles in his arms poke out, his shirt sleeve hugging them. He noticed she had walked back into the room, standing straight, and brushing out his vest. 
“Your friends left?” She pretended to look for them even though she knew the answer, walking towards the cash register. Her back now faced him. 
Steve looked amused. “I wouldn’t really call them my friends.” 
“They come in a lot to see you. That curly-haired boy seems to be fascinated with you.” She smirked at the thought that The King of high school who was popular was now only friends with a bunch of outcasts. 
“Oh, yeah. I guess Dustin is like the little brother I never had.” He walked up next to her. 
She shuddered when his arm brushed against hers. “That’s adorable,” Y/n cooed. She looked up at him with a big smile.
Steve blushed, but smiled back nevertheless. In doing so, it filled the air around the two of them with something that Y/n couldn’t describe. But it was suffocating, pricking her skin into tiny goosebumps along her arms. 
He raked his fingers through his hair, sucking in his teeth. He was the first to break eye contact. “Listen, I um… wanted to talk to you about something Robin had said.” 
Her face fell, unsure what he was going to say. “Oh?” 
“Well, it’s kind of funny she would say such a thing. But a few weeks ago she mentioned something about you… having a crush on me.” He had thrown in some laughs as if it would ease the awkwardness. 
Suddenly, it felt like Y/n had forgotten what words were. She was frozen, blinking rapidly, trying to tell her brain how to open her mouth. It would be easy for her to lie. To tell him, no, that’s absolutely ridiculous. Nevertheless, she looked up at him, a pathetic look in her eyes, opening her mouth to say something, but choosing to give a weak smile instead. 
Realization hit him. Robin's intuition was correct. He couldn’t help but look at his feet, blushing. “Oh.”
The reply was all she needed to hear to know his thoughts on the matter. “It’s okay. You don’t have to say anything. I know you’re not interested. It’s just silly feelings that don’t mean anything, you know?” Her smile was small and sad. “I’d like to be your friend, though. I’ve just always been shy because you’re Steve Harrington and I wasn’t sure how to talk to you.” 
Steve hated to admit her response was overwhelming and confusing. It was sure, he had never thought of her more than just a coworker. He gave a quick nod. “Right. Friends is… good. I’d like to be your friend as well.” 
There was a beat. 
“Great.” Y/n threw her hands up. “Then friends we are!” She patted him on the shoulder. And although her chest was tight, and a lump in her throat threatened to come up, she still smiled. 
The bell ringing forced their attention towards the front door as another group of teenagers stormed in. The conversation was dropped for the rest of the night. And it probably would never come up again.
They were just friends.
***
Robin typed on the Family Video computer, occasionally leaning back, looking at the office door when she heard raised voices. Steve set some tapes on the counter next to her. She jumped, briefly looking at her friend before turning to look at the closed door again. “What do you think they’re talking about in there?” 
Steve tilted his head, shrugging. “‘Dunno. Y/n and Keith have been butting heads for the past two weeks.” 
“Yeah, but Mr. Morris never comes in. It must be something serious if the owner wanted to talk to them,” she whispered. 
Before Steve could reply, the office door opened wide. “This is bullshit!” Y/n stormed out. She turned back around, pointing her finger towards whoever was in the room. “When this store goes downhill, don’t call me for help.” She pulled her work vest off and threw it on the ground. “I’m tired of doing all of Keith’s work and have no credit around here.” 
There was no reply from inside the office, making her scoff in disbelief. “Fuck this place. And fuck you, Keith. Should I tell Mr. Morris now that you’ve been sneaking tapes from the adult section?” She turned back around and stomped past Robin and Steve, stopping for a moment to look at them, but it seemed like there was nothing else to say. She walked out of the store, leaving the pair dumbfounded. 
Steve gave Robin a look. “I’ll be right back.” Before she could argue, Steve was running out of the store. He sighed in relief when he saw Y/n’s car still parked. He ran across the street, calling out her name, waving his hand in the air, barely missing a car coming his way. Whoever was driving was not happy because they held down their car horn as they passed by, flipping him off. 
He didn’t bother with apologies. Instead, he walked up to her car, panting. 
“Did your mother ever teach you how to look both ways, Harrington?” Although she was smirking, Steven took note of her puffy red-stained eyes. Dried tears clung to her soft cheeks. She must have noticed he was looking at her because she took the back of her hand to wipe her face. 
“Are you okay?” He placed the palm of his hand on the top of her car, leaning on it slightly, trying to catch his breath. He needed to get back in shape. 
Y/n, already frustrated, rolled her eyes. “I’m fine, Steve. I just want to go home.” 
“Are you sure? It looked pretty rough back there.” He pressed. 
Her jaw ticked. “Steve, I appreciate your concern. But I really don’t want to talk about it. Especially with you.”  
Taken aback, Steve allowed his hand to slip down. He looked off to think for a moment. “I’m sorry. I just thought now that we’re friends… you might want someone to talk to.” 
She bit her lip and pinched her nose. “No, I’m sorry. I’m pissed off and I took it out on you.” Her voice was soft, slightly cracking. Yet, she gave him an assuring smile. “Thank you for checking up on me.”
He smiled back. “Robin and I are having a movie night tomorrow. You should come. I have a heated pool.” He could sense she was unsure with the proposal. “And there will be booze. If you’re into that sort of thing of course.” 
She sniggered, “Okay.” 
That next night, Y/n showed up to Steve Harrington’s house just as she promised. She knocked on the large double doors. It took a moment before it opened. Her brows knitted together when the curly haired boy from Halloween answered the door. His name was Dustin, if she remembered correctly. “You’re not pizza.”
She dramatically patted herself. “Oh god. You’re right. I’m not. And you’re not Steve.”
Dustin rolled his eyes. “Very funny.” He left the door open just enough to let her in. “Steve! Your girlfriend is here.” 
Her eyes went wide. “Oh, we’re not-”
“Y/n! You came.” Steve interrupted her, walking into the foyer. 
She looked away quickly. He was only in a pair of swim trunks, a towel hung around the back of his neck. She had hoped he wasn’t serious about swimming. Even with a heated pool it was 53° outside. “Yeah, I had nothing better to do.” 
Steve laughed, then looked over at Dustin who was still standing there, watching the two of them, clearly amused. “Henderson, what are you doing?” 
“Waiting on the damn pizza you said you ordered an hour ago. I’m starving,” the younger boy complained. 
“Stop whining and go upstairs and tell Robin Y/n’s here.” He motioned Dustin to go up the staircase that was right next to them. And like a mother, when Dustin opened his mouth to argue, Steve held a finger up. “Go, now.” 
His shoulders dropped in defeat, doing as he was told. 
Y/n giggled. “He seems like a handful.” 
“No kidding.” Steve watched Dustin disappear at the top to go find Robin. “Just between you and me, I completely forgot to order the pizza.”
“I heard that!” Dustin yelled. 
Steve ignored him, but rather put his hand on Y/n’s back so he could lead her through the house. “This is the living room.” 
“I know.” Her eyes widened. “I didn’t mean that in a stalker way. I meant it as I’ve been to your parties in high school way.” 
He chuckled, removing his hand from her back. “Sorry about that. I don’t remember much about high school. Mostly because part of me was so self-absorbed.” 
There was a beat. 
“Would you like a beer?” 
“Uh… sure.” She followed him into the large kitchen. She had never seen it so empty, tracing her finger over the marble countertop. “I never thought you were self-absorbed.” 
Steve paused for a moment to process what she had just said, looking over at her as she jumped on top of the counter. She seemed fascinated with his kitchen. He wasn’t sure why, though. It was just a kitchen. “I’m okay with admitting to being selfish and arrogant back then.”
Y/n took a cold can of beer out of his hand. She smirked, opening the can, letting it hiss. “I never said I never thought you were arrogant.” She took a sip. 
Steve couldn’t help but titter. She had got him there he had to admit. 
“Steve, Dustin said you forgot to order the pizza.” Robin’s voice infiltrated the kitchen as she barged through the door, clutching her stomach dramatically. “I’ve been studying non-stop and I think I’m about to die from lack of food.” 
Y/n’s giggle made Robin look her up and down, examining from head to toe. She then turned back to Steve, a painful expression on her face. “Please order the pizza. My life is on your hands, Harrington.” 
Steve rolled his eyes, taking the towel around his neck and swatting her with it. “You order it. I’m showing my guest around.” 
“You never showed me around,” Robin mumbled. He tried to hit Robin again, but she caught the towel and pulled it away, frowning. “You do know me and Dustin will abuse this power of pizza ordering privileges.” 
Steve looked like he was second-guessing his choice. Yet, he just sighed. “Yeah. Do as you wish. We’ll meet you guys outside in a bit.” He motioned for Y/n to follow him. 
She slid off the counter, giving Robin a small smile. “See you in a bit.”
And before she turned to follow Steve out of the room, Robin’s mouth twisted into a sly smirk. She then crossed her arms and gave a suggestive wink at the girl. Y/n felt her face heat up and quickly put her head down, scurrying out of the room to catch up with Steve. 
Later that night, Steve had walked Y/n to her car. When he walked back inside his house, he joined Robin and Dustin back in the living room. The two sat on the couch, arms crossed, and had knowing looks plastered on their faces, like mom’s who knew too much.
Steve ignored them and instead started to clean up the area. He had changed into a shirt and sweats, but his hair was still damp and clung to his forehead. Him and Dustin had been the only ones who swam. Robin and Y/n sat at the edge, their feet dipped into the pool, talking about who knows what. 
Although Robin and Steve had a lot in common and were inseparable since the summer, he couldn’t help but feel happy she had another friend who was a girl. Truthfully, he struggled fully understanding her. 
“Are you sure you two aren’t dating?” Dustin had been the one to break the ice, asking the question that Robin was wondering as well. 
She sat silent, but by her expression, Steve could tell she had a lot to say on the matter. The Harrington boy sighed loudly, not looking over at them. “I’m sure.” 
Robin let out a scoff, everything she had been holding in spilling out. “Are you kidding me? I’ve had to endure you two blatantly flirting or eye… canoodling for three weeks straight. But get this, he told me he turned her down when she told him she liked him.”
Dustin jumped off the couch, walking up to Steve.“Wait… dude, she likes you? And you rejected her? I thought it was weird when you and Robin haven’t gotten together yet, but this is even weirder.”
Steve glanced over at Robin, sharing a knowing look at one another. “Uh… yeah,” he coughed awkwardly. “She’s just not my type, you know.” Steve shook his head. This was unbelievable. Why was he talking about his love life with a kid? “Go get your stuff. Your mom should be home by now. I can’t believe I let her convince me to look after you tonight.” 
Dustin mumbled profanities, walking off to go collect his things. Robin on the other hand had stood up, not wanting to drop the subject. “You’re a dingus, Harrington.”
“I’m done talking about it, Buckley. We’re just friends.” He took the handful of trash and walked into the kitchen to throw it away.
Robin followed. “Give me one good reason she isn’t your type. Then I’ll drop it.” Steve turned around, hands on hips, annoyed. Robin held out her pinkie. “I promise.” 
He looked to the side and his jaw ticked. “I dunno, she just isn’t. There isn’t anything else to say.”
“You’re not helping your case-” He cut her off by groaning loudly, putting his face in his hands. “Jesus Christ. I don’t like her because she doesn’t really like me. I can tell you’re confused. I meant that she doesn’t really like me because she likes this version of me she knew from high school.”
She still looked confused. “Okay?” 
“Robin, you’ve seen my many failed dates. It has all been girls that I went to school with who had a crush on Steve “The King” Harrington. Once they learned that I was just some guy who had no actual plan for the future…” He couldn’t seem to finish the last part. He leaned back on the counter, arms crossed. 
Robin started to laugh, receiving a dirty look from him. “But you always know that’s why those girls like you because of you were. Why is Y/n different? Is it because you like her too?” 
Steve didn’t answer at first. He scratched his neck, standing up straight again. “She’s just a friend.” 
Defeated in the argument, Robin sighed. “Right. Do you know why she quit yesterday?” 
“What does this have to with-”
“She quit because Keith reported her for renting R-rated movies out to kids.”
Steve’s mouth fell open, unsure what to say. 
But he didn’t have to say anything, because Robin continued, “She didn’t have to do that. She could have told the truth and saved her ass but she didn’t. Now sure, she might have a crush on you because of Steve “The King” Harrington. But something tells me she might be okay with Steve “The Lame and Dingus” Harrington.” 
Steve couldn’t sleep the rest of the night once Robin and Dustin arrived safely back at their homes. He hated when Robin had the last word in their squabbles. And it seemed like this time it took the words right out from under him. 
He was unsure how to feel. Grateful? Guilty? Indebted? None of those made up for what Y/n had done for him. And she didn’t even tell him. It was an unconditional favor that he wasn’t aware of until now. 
***
Y/n hated to admit it, but she missed Family Video. Her days at the store were always different, even with the odd small-town regulars that came in. She hated that she even missed the smell of Keith’s tuna sandwich he always brought for lunch. 
Now, she was stuck behind a desk taking calls for an attorney who rarely had clients. At first, she was ecstatic her first day had been sorting paperwork, but if she had known it would only take her a couple of hours, she would’ve dragged it out rather than trying to be a kiss-ass over achiever. 
Unlike Family Video, her day was always the same. It was Hawkins, she expected to see odd cases come in and out, but most of the time it was the town drunks who violated their probation by drinking under the influence.
However, one good thing happened was at exactly 11:30 AM, Steve Harrinton would walk in with lunch. The first few days he had came, Y/n had already packed a sandwich for herself and it had gone to waste. She soon learned there wasn’t a need to pack her lunch at all by the second week. 
Steve had managed to become the new lead, meaning he had full control of scheduling. Y/n was happy for him. He seemed to enjoy having more control and privileges. And she imagined he took advantage of his position whenever he was on a shift with Robin. 
So, by now it had come to no surprise when he waltzed into the office, two bags in his hands, plopping in the chair on the other side. He always set his feet on top of the desk, which Y/n always pushed off. Even if she was occupied with a word search or book, it was an instinct. 
“Working hard or hardly working?” He smiled, teeth and all, knowing she would cringe. 
She let out raspberry, reaching over the desk and hand held out to take the bag. “What fine cuisine did you bring for me today? Wendy’s?” 
Steve laughed, handing over the bag. “My mom’s meatloaf.”
She gave him a look. Nothing had to be said to know that it was strange coming from him having a home cooked meal from his mom. Especially since a few weeks ago he had mentioned his dad had received a promotion, meaning more time traveling. Steve had expressed many times that Mrs. Harrington didn’t trust his dad on his own. 
She watched as he took out the contents of his bag. She had put the blinds up earlier because the sun was out even though it was December. Sunlight bled through, highlighting his dark hair that it almost looked like honey was oozing down his head like streaks. 
However, the moment was ruined when he shoved a bologna sandwich in his mouth, crumbs falling everywhere. 
“You always eat like it’s your last meal.” She noticed a drop of mustard on his chin. Sighing, she opened a drawer full of miscellaneous items, taking out a napkin. She leaned over the desk and wiped the mustard off his chin carefully. There was a beat where the two locked eyes, but she pulled away quickly, handing him the napkin. 
“I eat like a working man who only has a 30-minute lunch break,” he complained. 
She giggled. “I’ve told you my boss is looking for an intern. You’d get an hour.”
“Pfft. I am not cut out for the world of law. Although, my dad would probably be more than happy.” Steve ate the last bite of his food, rubbing his hands against one another to get the crumbs off. 
She only smiled in response, finally taking a bite of the meatloaf, her eyes wide as it hit her tongue. “This is delicious!” 
A laugh bellowed out of him. “Woah, slow down there.” 
Y/n didn’t listen. In about five bites the meatloaf was all gone from the tupperware container. A loud burp escaped from her lips, she shockingly covered her mouth from embarrassment. But she quickly eased up when she saw the corner of his eyes crinkle. 
She had noticed something different recently whenever she was around Steve. His touches always seemed to linger, or the sound of his laughter somehow stained the air around her. She wasn’t sure how that was possible, but even after he left the room she could still hear the rich sound waiting around, ringing throughout her ears. As if it wanted to taunt her. And not to mention his apparent need to always see her. 
She had told herself weeks ago she was over him. He would never like her. They both verbally agreed that he only saw her as a friend and that was all they would be. 
Steve coughed, attempting to break the silence. His expression made it seem like he had been trying to find the right words to say something. “So, did you see that Girls Just Want to Have Fun is showing at the drive-in on Saturday?” 
She almost jumped in her seat. “Wait? Really? That’s my favorite movie!” 
Steve smiled. He knew it was her favorite. Once he looked at her account and saw she had rented it a month straight once the store started to carry it. “Oh! I had no clue. Well, um…” He scratched his neck. “If you’re not busy do you want to go with me?”
“Yeah! I mean I’m not busy. I’d love to!” She grabbed her bag on the ground and dug around until she found her pocket calendar. “What time?”
Steve took a moment to relish her excitement, taking note how it made her eyes brighter. “Uh… seven.”
She nodded, scribbling down the plan on the calendar for Saturday. “That’s a perfect excuse to return Robin a book I borrowed from her.”
His face fell. “Robin?”
She didn’t seem to notice the shift. “This is so exciting!” 
“Do you think I meant… Y/n I was kind of hoping… what I meant was that I wanted it to be just-” 
Steve’s words were cut off as the front door opened. Y/n’s demeanor changed. Steve watched her closely as she sat up straighter, wiped her blazer of any crumbs, and looked at herself in the reflection of the computer in front of her. 
He turned in his seat to see who had walked in that made her react in such a way. 
It was a tall, clean, short haired man. “Hello, Y/n.” He was soft-spoken but somehow carried an assertive energy. Steve had to do a double take to realize it was Mike Lewinski. He was an old basketball teammate from school. And apparently over the summer he had had a makeover.
“Mike?” Steve stood up, allowing the third party to recognize his presence. 
“Harrington? Wow, man. I thought it was only rumors that you stuck around.” He looked at the Family Video vest, before holding out his hand. “What brings you to my dad’s office?”
Steve was hesitant, but took it nonetheless, both their grips tight as if challenging one another silently. “Oh… I was just having lunch with Y/n.” 
Mike looked over the girl who had also stood up in the meantime, smiling bashfully at him. “Y/n, I wasn’t aware you were seeing someone.” 
She shook her head. “We’re not together!” 
Steve turned around quickly from her eagerness to turn down the accusation. He faced Mike again. “Yeah, we have lunch sometimes whenever I’m not busy.” 
“Ah.” Mike smiled. Almost like he was relieved. “Is my father in his office?” 
Y/n stuttered. “Oh… yeah! You’re good. He doesn’t have any meetings today.” 
He smiled and nodded. “Good to see you, Harrington. We should go out to the Hideaway sometime.”
“Yeah.” 
Mike walked past him and towards his father’s office, stopping when he reached next to Y/n. She smiled nervously as he looked at her closely. “Did you cut your hair?” 
Instinctively, she touched it, smiling. “Yes, I did.” She didn’t. 
“I like it. It suits you.” Mike gave another curt nod, before walking into his father’s office. 
Y/n giggled to herself, sitting back down in her chair. 
Steve, on the other hand, couldn’t believe the monstrosity he had just witnessed. His jaw ticked the longer he thought about Meathead Mike and Y/n, in the words of Robin, eye canoodling. “You haven’t done anything with your hair.” 
Y/n looked up, brows furrowed. “Huh?” 
“He asked if you cut your hair and you said yes. You haven’t cut it. You just have it in a different style.” He pointed. 
She scoffed. “So what? I was only being nice.”
“You were flirting,” he argued. 
Y/n had had enough. She looked at the door behind her before jumping to her feet. She stormed around the desk, grabbing his wrist, and pulled him outside. “What the hell is with you?”
Steve pulled his arm away so he could cross them against his chest. And almost like a child, he looked away from her. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” 
“You’re unbelievable.” She had to walk away for a moment to take a deep breath privately before returning. “You’ve been so strange lately. And now you’re upset because you think I was flirting with someone.” 
“I’m not upset.”
“Right… fine. I’m not going to argue with you about it. I’m just having a hard time understanding you, Steve. I mean you go from not talking to me at all to coming to my work every day with lunch. Why?” In that moment, she hoped that secretly all this time had been his way of telling her he liked her. 
It was promising because he had taken a step closer to her. His eyes drooped, vulnerable and harboring a secret he had been holding in. 
When he saw her flirt with Mike, he realized that he had taken too long to decipher his feelings and thoughts about her. She had moved on and followed through with their mutual promise to be friends. He swallowed the thickness stuck in his throat, dropping his arms to his sides. “You’re right. I have been acting strange.” 
Y/n’s heart skipped a beat.
“I have been feeling something for weeks and I wasn’t sure how to express it,” he continued. 
The corners of her mouth lifted, stepping closer to him, grabbing his hand. “Steve, it’s okay. You can tell me.” 
He looked down, ashamed. “I’ve felt guilty about you quitting because of me.” His voice was soft but almost ear-deafening at the same time. 
She closed her eyes to process what he had said. “You… you’ve been bringing me lunch every  day because you felt guilty about me quitting?” 
Steve nodded. “You took the fall for me and then I ended up with your job. I feel like an asshole.”
Y/n bit her lip, letting go of his hand. However, she smiled reassuringly. “I’m going to kill Robin for telling you.” 
“Please don’t. Her ghost will come back and kill me.” 
They shared a laugh. 
Steve looked through the window at the closed office door. “Mike’s a good guy.” 
“Yeah. I know.” She smiled sadly, looking at her watch. “Your break is over.” 
Steve took a deep breath. “Right. You know, about Saturday. I completely forgot that I have to pull a double so I don’t think I’ll be able to go.” He put his hand on top of his head, pretending as if it had just come to him. 
She tried not to look upset. “It’s okay. I forgot I have to babysit.” It was a lie. And maybe deep down he knew it, but he didn’t show any reaction. 
Instead, he left her with a half-hearted smile and dirty tupperware that he forgot to take with him. She had taken it home and washed it so it would be returned cleaned. But the rest of the week, Steve didn’t show up at his regular time. Anytime she called the store and asked for him, someone always gave the excuse that he was busy. By Friday, Y/n had packed her own lunch for the first time in weeks. 
***
Robin Buckley had never been a flashy person. She hated the attention on her. And she only said things to strangers if she absolutely had to. 
So when her, Steve and Y/n were at the diner and she brought up wanting to have an eighteenth birthday party, Steve was taken aback. Y/n on the other hand, squealed. “Oh my god! That will be so much fun. Don’t you agree, Steve?” They had only recently started to be okay again. But there were still moments when the energy between them was tense. 
He didn’t look at her. “Yeah, I guess.” 
Y/n hit his shoulder. “This is Robin’s only eighteenth birthday. Of course she’d want to have a huge party.”
“I never said anything about it being huge,” Robin interjected.
Y/n waved her hand as if she was waving off what her friend had just said. “Leave the planning to me. Steve can we have it at your-”
“Whatever.” He glanced at his watch, getting out of the booth. “I have to go pick up Dustin and his geek squad.” He finally looked at Y/n as he laid some cash to cover his bill on the table. “Robin can tell me more at work tomorrow.” 
Once he left, she let out a huff. “He has some nerve.” 
Robin waited a moment before replying. “He’s been pissy lately because Dustin has been hanging out with Eddie Munson more than him.”
“He’s so moody,” she complained. 
Robin only hummed. 
The party was more than what Robin had imagined. People she had never spoken to filled the empty spaces of the Harrington household. They had no clue who she was, but it didn’t matter because there was free alcohol and they were all too drunk to ask. 
Robin stood next to Y/n, shyly saying thanks to all the people who wished her a happy birthday. She took a sip from her cup, cringing at the taste. Y/n chuckled, leaning over to Robin, grabbing her arm for support. “No one’s forcing you to drink that.” 
Robin, as if proving a point, chugged the rest, wiping her mouth. “It’s my birthday. Once I get drunk enough, it will taste like water.” 
They shared a fit of drunken giggles. Y/n looked across the room to see Steve leaned against the wall, a red-solo cup in his hand, talking to a blonde. She felt her stomach twist and the only remedy was the rum punch in her hand. “I need to get laid.”
“W-what about that one guy…” Robin snapped her fingers trying to recall the name. “Meathead!” 
“Meathead?” She thought for a moment. “You mean Mike?” Mike Lewinski had asked her out for coffee a few weeks ago. Nothing had gone wrong, in fact he was nice, but their conversations fell flat and uninteresting. Both of them had agreed there would be no future dates.
“Ah, right. His name was Mike. I was thinking about what Steve had called him the other day.” She frowned when she looked inside her empty cup. Unsure where it all had gone. “I need more to drink.” 
The two girls walked through the crowd to get to the kitchen. “Why were you and Steve talking about me and Mike?” 
Robin’s shoulders tensed, glancing back to look at her. “Oh… uh… we weren’t.” 
Y/n could read through the blatant lie. She finished her drink rather than calling out Robin. She chose to drink a beer next, taking one out of the ice chest at the end of the island. She asked if Robin wanted one, but the girl didn’t reply. 
She looked up to see her staring across the room. Following her gaze, Y/n’s eyes landed on a tall thin girl. Her hair was fiery red and curly. Freckles scattered on her face as if a painter had flicked their brush. She noticed Robin was looking at her. She smiled sweetly and gave her a tiny wave before returning to her conversation. 
Robin had raised her hand, blushing profusely. The dots seemed to connect for Y/n. “You know, you should go talk to her.” 
Robin snapped around, eyes huge, like she had been caught red-handed. “I- wasn’t…” She let out an exasperated sigh. “Her name’s Vickie. She’s in band with me.” 
“She’s cute. I honestly didn’t expect that from you.” 
“Well, most people don’t expect me to be a lesbian.” 
Y/n giggled. “No, I meant I didn’t expect you to be into red-heads.” 
She wasn’t sure how many drinks she had had in her system by the time she needed to use the bathroom. The air had turned stale from the sweaty bodies that polluted the house. It didn’t help that people came back inside after smoking cigarettes or weed, the stench still clinging onto their clothes. 
The only bathroom that was open to guests was downstairs. The line wasn’t long, but it seemed to drag the longer she waited and the more she needed to use it. She leaned her body against the wall next to her, letting the chilled surface cool her hot cheeks. 
She stood straight when Steve stumbled through the hallway. At first he didn’t notice her until she slurred his name. He stopped, and chuckled at her state. “Why are you by yourself?” 
Y/n reached out and drunkenly grabbed his hand, pulling him closer. He didn’t fight it. In fact, he took his other hand and put it on top, his thumb rubbing hers. She went to her tip toes so she put her mouth close to his ear. “Robin is flirting with girls.” 
Steve’s expression seemed panicked. “How’d you…?” 
“Stevie, I’m a genius. I was bound to find out someday.” She giggled as if she had said the funniest thing in the world. “I let her flirt so I could wait in like to piss. I have to piss so bad.” 
Steve looked at the line in front of her, sighing. “Come on.” He wrapped his arm around her. Maybe to support her. Or maybe just an excuse to touch her. He led her away from the bathroom and towards the staircase. 
As they ascended, many people gave them strange looks. And some were jealous, thinking that Steve Harrington had found the girl he would spend the night with. 
Y/n had known Steve as a close friend for months, and even had come over more than she could count on two hands, but she had never been inside his room. It was neat and smelled like mahogany and his cologne. 
He let go of her, pointing towards another door. “Uh… there’s my bathroom.” 
She smiled, thanking him before going inside. It was fairly large. A long counter with products scattered on the top. He had one of those walk in showers with glass doors. 
She looked behind her just to be sure before sneaking over, picking up a nearly empty bottle of shampoo, opening and taking a sniff. Yep, it smelled exactly like him. Sweet but also like the outdoors during winter. 
When she finished and walked back outside, Steve was laying on his bed, legs dangled over the side, eyes closed. She let out a breath that resembled a laugh. She walked over to him, sitting on the side and looked down. 
A stray hair had fallen to his forehead. She couldn’t help but reach out and use her pointer finger to brush it back. She jumped when his eyes snapped open. “I didn’t mean to disturb you.”
He groaned, sitting up. He looked bad. Not because he had drunk a lot but also because he looked as if he hadn’t slept well lately. 
“We should get back to the party,” Y/n suggested. 
“No.” He had said it quickly, like a snap. It wasn’t meant to be harsh, but he realized how rash he sounded. “Sorry. I had meant I wanted to stay here for a bit. But you can go.” 
She bit her lip. Surely he didn’t think she was going to leave him by himself. Instead of words, she grabbed his hand. Silently saying she would stay. 
A few minutes passed by of the two of them sitting in the dark room, listening to voices from outside. The moon casted a milky light through his window, making shadows dance on the wall in front of them. Y/n nudged Steve, laughing. “Am I super drunk, or does that shadow on the wall look like a dick?”
Steve narrowed his eyes, trying to see what she was looking at. His shoulder brushed against hers as he joined in her laughter. “Yeah. It really does.” 
“It compliments the room well,” she joked. 
He pushed his body into her side softly. “I’ll think about it next time we redecorate the house. I think my mom will be ecstatic.” 
There was a beat where they laughed harder, looking at one another. She had taken her hand away from him to cover her mouth. He had taken his hands and covered his face. Y/n took note how they were large enough to hide all of his features. 
The laughter subdued gradually, both of them putting their hands back into their laps as they calmed down. Y/n sighed to fill in the silence. “I’m going to go find Robin. She’s probably looking for me. Do you want to come with me?” 
“I think I’m going to stay here for a few more minutes. You know, so no one gets the wrong idea.” He smirked. 
She scoffed. “I think they already had the wrong idea when you brought me up here.” She smiled. “Thank you, by the way. I probably would’ve pissed my pants if it weren’t for you.”
He rolled his eyes. “Don’t be dramatic.”
She pushed him slightly. “Asshole.” The pair locked eyes, making her stomach flip. “Seriously, thank you.” She slowly leaned in, hesitant, placing a tender kiss on his cheek. 
She pulled away to get up, but Steve’s hand flew to her wrist, forcing her to stay. She was shocked, a small gasp escaped her. Even though they were already looking at one another, he seemed to be searching for something in her eyes. His Adam’s apple bobbed as his thumb swiped her cheek. “You had an eyelash,” he mumbled. 
“Oh.” The back of her neck started to feel warm. “Was that all?” 
“You’re so pretty.” 
And it was like all the energy at the top of the rollercoaster that seemed to build over the months had finally reached the top, falling. Their lips connected. And it was more than Y/n had expected as they moved like static rubbing together, electrifying from her lips to her toes. 
When she moaned, Steve took the opportunity to kiss her open-mouthed, drinking in the sound that followed. His hand gripped her hip, pulling her closer. It had to be all a dream. She needed to tangle her fingers in his hair unless he would slip away.
This wasn’t the first time she had touched his hair. Sometimes she would ruffle it when he was irritating her, or when they hung out he would lay his head on lap as she brushed her fingers through. But this time was different. It felt dirty. 
He was the first to break away, his chest heaving, lips swollen, and eyes darkened. He shuddered when she went straight for his jaw, leaving a trail of kisses to his ear, slightly grazing her teeth on the lobe. 
“Babe, I’m going to cum if you do that again.” He moved his head so he could place another kiss on her lips, then on her neck.
“Say that again,” she whispered. 
“What?” He kissed and sucked on a spot that made her gasp his name. “Do you want me to call you babe? Was that it?”
“Yes, please.” She dug her nails into his shoulders, clenching her eyes when his hand slipped under her shirt.
“You have no idea how worked up you have me, babe.” 
She placed a hand on his thigh, feeling the bulge through the denim of his jeans. She gave him a smug expression. “I think I have an idea.” She swung her leg over his so she could straddle him. Thankful for the skirt she had chosen to wear when it rode up her thigh slightly. She bucked her hips so that she could feel him twitch through the thin fabric of her underwear. 
The kisses became sloppier and more heated as they continued to roam their hands all over one another. 
Both their shirts ended up on the floor eventually. Followed by Y/n’s bra. His belt had been unbuckled to relieve him of the pressure. 
With his mouth, he peppered kisses on her breasts, putting one in his mouth as he kneaded the other with his free hand. When he broke away, a string of saliva formed from her nipple to his lips. 
He looked up at her, and he looked destroyed. 
It had been everything she had dreamed. So why did she feel tears brim her eyes? She gave him a fierce kiss again, but it somehow felt… wrong. “I…” Her bottom lip quivered.
“Yes?” He tried to kiss her neck again, but she stopped him. 
“I forgot about the cake!” She jumped off his lap, grabbing her bra and shirt, turning away from him to put them back on. 
“Cake?” He seemed confused, pinching his nose. 
“Yeah. Robin’s birthday cake. I completely forgot.” She hit her forehead with the palm of her hand. “Silly me.” 
“Oh. Uh… yeah.” Steve’s disappointment was clear. 
“Good thing I remembered. Or else we would’ve made a huge mistake.” She laughed awkwardly. 
Steve stood up as well to put his shirt back on. “Mistake?”
Y/n turned back around once she was decent again. “Oh come on. We’re both very drunk. You know this wouldn’t have happened any other way.” 
Steve let out a huff, running his hands through his already messy hair. His jaw ticked, refraining from saying anything else. No longer aroused, he buckled his belt and stormed past her out of his room. 
It was three in the morning when Steve kicked out the last guest. Y/n and Robin were the only ones left, cleaning up all the trash around the house. Steve walked into the living room where they were giggling. And almost immediately, the energy shifted. They fell silent as he stood there, hands on his hips. 
“I’m going to take a shower and go to bed. I made sure the guest room is ready.” He didn’t allow a response before he turned on his heels and left the room. 
Robin waited until she heard his door shut from upstairs before opening her mouth. “Jeez. What’s his deal?” 
“Who knows?” Y/n shoved a handful of trash into a bag, a bit too aggressively. 
Robin eyed her for a moment, rolling her eyes. “Jesus, you two hooked up, didn’t you?” 
She almost dropped what she was holding. Nevertheless, she tried to pretend not to react. “Not sure what you mean by that.” 
“Oh come on. You both disappeared for an unnatural amount of time and both came back looking like a hot mess. Also your shirt has been on backwards.” Robin smirked. She was smug and had been waiting for the perfect chance to finally say her deductions out loud. 
Y/n looked down, and sure enough her shirt had been backwards the whole time. Robin probably had noticed right away. Cheeky. “We didn’t hook up. We only…” She couldn’t find the right words. 
“Canoodled?” Robin wiggled her brows. 
Y/n threw an empty cup at her, and although she was embarrassed, she felt a laugh come up. “You’re sick, you know that?” 
The brunette shrugged. “You’re sick for hooking up with our friend on my birthday.”
“Your birthday isn’t until Monday.” 
Robin pointed at her. “That’s a technicality.” 
She rolled her eyes, looking up at the ceiling, trying to imagine what Steve was doing. “I think I hurt his feelings.” 
Robin sighed, making Y/n wonder about their conversation earlier in the night when her and Steve had talked about Y/n and Mike. Had Robin been in-between the whole time? “He’ll get over it.” 
She frowned and shook her head. “No, this time it was different. I said it was a mistake.” 
Her friend looked up to the sky, mouthing the words “Just kill me now.” She let a beat go by. “You two are ridiculous. It’s like cat and mouse with feelings. First you think he doesn’t like you, then he doesn’t think you like him, and then you do whatever the hell you did tonight and you still think he doesn’t like you. Everyone in a two-mile radius can tell you like one another. Hell, people in Illinois can tell. Should we tattoo it on both your foreheads? ‘I have a big fat crush on Dingus one’ and ‘I have a big fat crush on Dingus two’?” 
“Thanks, Robin. You know how to cheer a girl up.” Y/n’s mouth drooled with sarcasm. 
“I’d die for the two of you, but I can only take so much.” She clutched her heart dramatically. 
Y/n didn’t answer, ashamed, a sheepish expression painted on her face. And it all felt obvious what she needed to do and say. She could go upstairs right now and make everything okay between her and Steve. But, she was too stubborn and instead planned on forgetting what had happened that night. 
***
Trying to forget what had happened only lasted a week before she waltzed into Family Video on her break the next Friday. Steve was behind the counter helping the same blonde from Robin’s birthday party. She had giggled at something Steve had said, reaching out and straightening his vest. 
He looked over at the door, his face fell at the sight of his new customer. He turned his attention back to the blonde, and Y/n could hear him say, “Have a good day.” The girl looked disappointed when she had turned around, leaving the store. It was only the two of them. But why did it feel like there was so much noise going on? 
Steve watched her stand there for a few seconds until he decided to act busy. LIke she was another customer. 
She sighed and came up to the counter. “H-hi.” 
Steve turned his back to her. “Hello, welcome to Family Video. How can I assist you?” 
“Steve.” She was exasperated and wanted to get straight to the point. 
He turned around, pretending to be shocked. “Oh! Y/n, didn’t realize it was you.” He looked at his watch. “Robin doesn’t work today. There’s a basketball game.” 
“I know. I came to see you.” She lifted a paper sack in her hand, placing it on the counter. He had moved his head slightly, allowing her to catch the fading bruise on his neck. Her cheeks burned when she realized what it was. “I- I brought you lunch.” 
Suddenly, she felt like she was back in that classroom when he had asked for a pencil. The months of getting comfortable around him had vanished, and all words were stuck on her tongue, unable to escape. “I already ate lunch.” 
He was lying and she knew he was. He turned back around, ignoring her again. She felt the anger rise, she violently grabbed the sack, throwing it loudly in the trash can by the door. Just as she was about to leave, her hand on the handle, she took a deep breath. “I know I hurt your feelings, but that gives you no right to be mean to me.” She turned around. 
He was no longer messing with anything but he still faced the opposite way. She chose to continue, “I came here to make things okay. To tell you I’m sorry.”
“Sorry for what you said or sorry for kissing me?” 
She groaned in frustration, putting her palms on her temples, rubbing them. She didn’t want to lose her cool, but he was making it painfully hard. “Of course I’m not sorry for kissing you-”
He snapped around. “But you still think it was a mistake, right?” 
She opened her mouth but quickly closed it, clenching her jaw. A tear betrayed her, rolling down her cheek. “Do you know why I first started to like you?” 
He folded his arms across his chest, motioning for her to continue. 
“I liked you because the first thing I learned was that you cared about others before yourself. It might sound silly, because it is, but when I was five years old, you kissed me after making me cry. This entire time I had just thought I liked you in school because you were Steve Harrington. You were cute and I couldn’t help but feel butterflies when you asked me for a pencil in seventh grade because there was a sparkle that shone in your stupid brown eyes. But I also thought that’s all it was, a school crush that I wouldn’t even remember in twenty years.
“But then you had to get a job here and make me realize how that guy in school wasn’t as selfish as everyone made him out to be. I saw it every time you made sure to be at the counter when Mrs. Higgins came in because you know she doesn’t like me. I saw it every time Dustin came around and you made sure he wasn’t in trouble. I saw it every time you came to my work and brought me lunch when I never asked you to.” She wiped the flood pouring down her face, trying to keep it together. 
Steve’s face had fallen but he continued to stand there frozen. 
She let out a sob, her lip quivered, looking at the ground so he couldn’t see her puffy eyes. “No, I don’t think kissing you was a mistake. I was only afraid because although the more I got close to you, and the more I liked you, the more I considered you a friend. And it felt like we were just hooking up. So it felt wrong.” She looked up at him, sniffling. “I’m sorry.” She gave him a half-hearted smile and left the store.
She began her walk back to the office, which wasn’t that far from the store. She had only gotten a few feet away when she heard the bell hastily ring, and hurried footsteps pounded against the pavement behind her. “Wait! Y/n!” 
She wiped more tears on her sleeve, pushing back the lump in her throat when she turned around. His hair was disheveled and eyes red. “You didn’t give me a chance to talk.” His voice was softer than earlier. More careful, trying not to upset her. He brushed his thumb over her cheek. “I made you cry again.”
“I-it’s okay,” she mumbled.
“No, it’s not. I let my pride get in the way.” He licked his lips. “You were wrong.”
“What?” She was unsure what he meant. 
Hesitant, he took her hand in his, looking at it and then back up at her. “What happened wasn’t a hook-up to me. I had been trying to ask you out for weeks but I thought you might have moved on. And when we were in my room at the party I couldn’t help but notice the moon made you glow. You looked beautiful, and I couldn’t help but finally kiss you.” He let out an awkward chuckle. “I definitely got carried away.” 
She smiled shyly. “You tried to ask me out?” She gasped, eyes wide, and covered her face. “Oh my god. That’s why you asked to go to the drive-in. You wanted it to be a date.” 
He laughed at her reaction, nodding. “Don’t worry. I was a little rusty. You make me nervous.” 
She smirked, poking him in the chest. “What? I make Steve Harrington nervous?” 
He rolled his eyes, but grinned cheekily nonetheless. “Can you blame me? I did just admit how pretty I think you are.”
There was a beat as they locked eyes. He reached out and put his hand on the side of her face, stepping closer, parting his lips as his face neared hers. 
However, she stopped him. She raised her brows and let a smug smile appear. “You’re going to kiss me even though you haven’t asked me on a date yet?” 
Flabbergasted, Steve laughed in disbelief. “Seriously?”
She took a step back and crossed her arms. Mimicking what he did to her earlier. 
He sighed and stood up straight. He then cleared his throat dramatically. “Y/n, would you do me the honor of accompanying me to a nice dinner tomorrow night?” 
She gave him a toothy smile, giggling. “I’d be very delighted.”
“Pick you up at seven?” He asked. 
She nodded. “Perfect.”
“Okay, then I guess I’ll see you then.” Steve took her hand, placing a soft kiss. He gave her a sweet goodbye before he turned around to go back to the store which probably had been left unoccupied for too long. 
She looked at her watch, seeing that she still had fifteen minutes left of her break. Smiling to herself, she chased after Steve, tapping him on the shoulder before he reached the door. He turned around, brows furrowed, probably wondering if she had forgotten something. 
She grabbed him by the vest, pulling him towards her, their lips crashed against one another. He was shocked at first. However, he melted when her lips started to push and pull against his. His hand wrapped around to the small of her back, the other on the back of her neck, pulling her closer. 
And they both felt like they were floating in the air. To her, it was like that random Tuesday in December, where her stomach fluttered and her heart pounded against her chest. It felt surreal. It was more than she had imagined.
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stevebabey · 1 year
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not if it’s you.
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word count: 7k summary: After the events at Starcourt Mall, you have a hard time convincing Steve that he’s allowed to be not okay. You want to take care of him. And if you harbour some more-than-friends feelings at the same time? Well, that’s nobody’s business but yours. [angst + hurt/comfort + friends to lovers]
You’re bone-deep tired.
The red and blue lights of the ambulance feel branded onto the inside of your eyelids, there even when your tired eyes slide shut. The cool metal on the ambulance door soothes your forehead and for a moment, head tilted against it, you could honestly just sleep even with all the noise.
It’s been a hell of a night.
You blink. You need to keep yourself awake, you’re not home yet. Gazing blankly across the crowded parking lot, reporters and townspeople milling between the yellow police tape, you can feel your brain begin to try to grapple with all the events of the night.
It’s like some warped horror flick of memories, parts of the film blacked out that you can’t quite recall. The elevator, the Russians, and some god-awful melted monster of people — even in your mind the image makes you shudder.
The longer you think about it, the more it feels like the stress is fusing with your bones, attaching itself to every cell in your body. It makes you shake, a forceful twitch of your head to put all the thoughts to rest.
Process it later. Make sure you can stay stitched together physically tonight. You must look a tad loony from the outside, twitching and shaking, but considering your night it’s more than warranted.
The gash on your arm is the worst of your injuries. A jagged stretch of torn skin that was gifted by one of the Russian soldiers who had hoped it would loosen your tongue. And when that didn’t work, the pliers nearly had — you would’ve told them anything when they took them out and lined it up with one of your fingernails.
But Steve then had done something stupid — kicked to get a guard’s attention since his yelling obviously hadn’t made a difference, let one of them lean down real close, and then headbutted him with all his might.
Relief had shocked your system, some broken cry as you slumped over when the pliers moved away. Fingers saved, if only briefly.
It had all turned to dread when they had lugged him out of his chair, preparing for round two of questioning. You had felt it then, a twisted gurgle of emotion lurched up your throat — violent enough it might have made you sick if you had managed to open your mouth. You hadn’t. There was a chance you would’ve said something worse, some jumble of feelings that wouldn’t have helped.
So, you had bit your tongue. Tasted blood and pretended that closing your eyes meant you couldn’t hear Steve pleading in the room over.
He hasn’t said much since the two of you had been sat in the back of the ambulance, gloved hands of the paramedics roaming over skin to find and treat injuries. There’s just one guy left now, still hovering around Steve with a flashlight and treating him with much less care than you’d like.
Steve looks as tired as you feel and when he can’t focus enough to look ahead, the paramedic prods his cheek unkindly. Steve winces.
“Hey,” you snip, cutting into the interaction. “Are you done? Can we go home?”
The paramedic turns the flashlight on you, blinding you for a moment. It confirms your asshole hypothesis of his character and you cringe at the brightness. It’s gone in the next moment, finally clicked off. He observes you both for another moment before an annoyed drawl comes out.
“Yeah, scram. But first you,” He jabs a finger at Steve who blinks but doesn’t react. “Lots of rest. No big brain work, no alcohol, and don’t run any marathons or anything.”
Steve nods, then grimaces at the pain the movement causes. You can’t help the wrinkle in your brow as you watch - you startle a bit when the paramedic turns his pointed finger on you.
“And you. His pupils are still dilated so keep an eye for seizure symptoms. Wake him every couple of hours and get a CT scan tomorrow.”
Some part of you is perturbed that he’s put you in charge of taking care of Steve. Another part gleans and blushes because you’d accepted the task the moment he’d asked, without question.
“Tomorrow?” You ask hotly, at the same time Steve says, “I’ll be fine on my own.”
The paramedic shakes his head, tsking as if you’re bothersome school-children not patients, and steps back with his hands raised. “Figure it out, I don’t care. I’ve got a dozen other people to check over.”
He winds around the door of the ambulance and leaves the both of you alone. A cool wind skirts through the parking lot, ruffling your hair. A sigh wrestles out your chest, a pathetic attempt to alleviate the tightness in your chest.
You don’t think you’ve ever hated the colours blue and red more than right now. The blazing colours atop police cars that flood the parking lot, the colours of Steve’s Scoops uniform, the colour of blood seeping into your pale blue shirt.
If you squint, you can see your own car parked alongside Steve’s in the distance — it feels like a lifetime ago when you had driven in and parked up. Your keys are lost down, down below you, taken in the interrogation. You stand to shake off that train of thought. 
You turn back and offer your hand out to Steve. After all the blows he’s taken tonight, you desperately want to offer him kindness. Offer him a touch that doesn’t hurt, doesn’t make him flinch or wince. Steve stares at your hand for a long moment, eyes contemplating — and then puts his in yours.
He lets you pull him to his feet.
One of the police cruisers takes you to Loch Nora, Steve and you tucked away in the backseat. His hand is still in yours, barely holding it in his tiredness; when the car rounds a corner though, you can feel his fingers clench tighter so your hand doesn’t slip away.
They detach eventually when the wheels roll up on the curb outside Steve’s house, late in the night. Like the rest of the sleeping houses, the lights are all off. There are no cars in the driveway. The loneliness of it yawns out down the drive, like visible smoke plumes that escape every window.
Steve somehow looks tenser at seeing it; he still forces himself out of the car, bloody sneakers scraping against the gravel. You follow. It aches to move too much, even just shuffling out of the car feels like moving a mountain. The door clips closed quietly behind you. You hear the engine fade back down the road.
Steve is still stuck in place — you have a feeling he’s not looking at the house at all but stuck in thought, looking through the timber and paint and seeing all the horrors of the night. You step up beside him and gingerly reattach your hands.
It seems to surprise him, jumping ever so slightly at the touch and turning to look at you. “I didn’t...”
I didn’t think you’d stay. The sentence dies in his throat, a little embarrassed by how relieved he is that you’ve stayed with him - so much it shows in the quiver in his voice. Steve doesn’t finish it because then you’ll hear the other part of the sentence, even without him saying it. No one stays.
“C’mon,” you urge him to walk with you, beginning to drift up the driveway.
There’s no rush, you’ll wait as long as he needs to before moving, but it’s colder out tonight. Maybe it just feels that way with all your tiredness, the frostiness nipping at your skin. All your energy is focused on staying on your feet, on helping Steve. There’s none left to keep you warm.
He ambles after you like walking is an afterthought and following you is the priority. His sneakers drag, soft scraping noises with every step. You can feel his gaze burning into the back of your head, his fingers squeezing as if he’s checking you’re really still here with him.
The front door is unlocked and it’s only when it snicks shut behind you, do you wonder if you’ve overstepped. It’s awkward, but only a bit. You’ve been in Steve’s house before — though, who hadn’t with all his parties in sophomore year?
But not quite like this. Not just the two of you, and never holding his hand.
The events that had transpired last fall in Hawkins had thrown Steve into your life, along with a dizzying revelation of new dimensions and an unsettling truth about monsters that came right out of your nightmares.
Though, maybe it made more sense to say you were thrown into Steve’s life. You had always known of him - he couldn’t say the same about you.
Like the hoards, freshmen you had not been immune to the boyishly good looks and charismatic nature of Steve Harrington. Once upon a time, before someone called him King Steve and it stuck, there had been a crush.
But like red wine on white linen, with time — and plenty of distance — it had faded.
Not even the adventure that bound you two together, the tunnels that snaked beneath Hawkins and your shaky hands lugging him into the car, had been enough to reignite old affections. Not his insistence on you leaving the tunnels first, not even the way he clutched you when you all made it out. Not unscathed, but alive.
Pitifully, it had been his shoddy attempts at flirting in his ridiculous sailor uniform to kick-start your heart back up.
You had sighed, chin in hand, and leaned into the foolish feelings — because going crazy over a boy felt the most normal thing you could do. And after demodogs and slithering vines kept creeping from the past into your slumbers, normal was all you wanted.
But Steve needed you as a friend, more so considering his fallout with Tommy H and Carol had become permanent. He flirted with customers, every girl you’d recognised from your year, but never you.
It felt a good enough reason to bite your tongue. Keep him close, but never as close as you’d like.
But now you’ve done it again — been pulled along on another adventure that’s brimming with terrors that will take years to forget.
Everything feels worse this time round, a decay that ebbs away your hope. It’s somehow harder to heal from wounds that come from evil, but not the supernatural. It’s all the heavier when the boy who holds your heart made himself a punching bag so you didn’t get hurt. 
The warmth of his hand, squeezing for only a moment, brings you back to the present. To now, still standing in the entryway to Steve’s house. You blink, coming back to yourself, and turn back to him. There’s a crinkle between his brow, and worry washed across his features.
“Are you okay?” He asks it tentatively like he’s afraid to spook you. It sends a rush to your system, a pleasant throb in your chest. You can’t deny you like knowing he worries. That he cares.
“Yeah,” you croak out, nodding as you speak. “Do you— I mean, you don’t mind me staying, do you?” 
Suddenly, the potential embarrassment of inviting yourself in, even with the good intentions of taking care of Steve, is overwhelming. The next words tumble out without thought.
“I just, I don’t want to be alone right now.” It’s a bit hurried, tinged with nervousness. You stammer. “And I don’t want you to be alone right now.”
Something like pure affection blooms in Steve’s chest at your words, the heat of it stealing his breath and pain for just a moment. It’s a different sort of ache in between his ribs, something white-hot and pure.
He hadn’t been able to voice his relief when you’d gotten out of the car and stayed with him — and it fails him now at your admittance.
You don’t want to be alone. You don’t want him to be alone.
Steve doesn’t think he’s deserving of your good will, nor the kindness in every touch. He can’t help how he consumes it greedily, drinks in the touches like he knows it’ll be taken from him soon enough. His eyes stay fixed on you.
There’s something so alluring about your silhouette, the golden street light let in through slits in the door. It halos you, soft amber that softens every curve. You’re enchanting, even when bloodied.
Steve’s not sure his heart has felt like this before — so molten hot, valves working overtime, ribbons of affection tied tight across his chest. He’s sure they’ll leave scorch marks, testimonies to his bleeding heart that pulses with each beat for you, for you, for you.
Because you’re still here and something in his trodden on heart perks up before he remembers to crush it. It’s not that Steve has never thought of you as more — god, the mere thought of you as more to him.
More than a friend, more than this, it’s enough to make his head spin. To make his hands shake and return a nervousness to his system he hasn’t felt since sophomore year when he first laid eyes on Nancy Wheeler.
But you’re not Nancy. In the best way, that makes all the difference,
You were some breath of fresh air, bursting into his life in all the middle of his estranged drawn out break-up with Nancy — brash in all the right ways, kind when he needed, and far too soft to be tangled up in any of this mess.
You’re still too soft for it now, and it shows in the jagged cut torn into the fabric of your skin — it doesn’t matter how it happened, Steve still feels like it’s his fault. It’ll scar, red puckered skin that twists down the expanse of your shoulder. A living reminder of the night burned into you to carry forever.  
It hurts Steve maybe more than he’s warranted to. You’re both just friends.
But when Steve thinks of how he’s accidentally pulled you too close, put you first in the heart, it aches evermore.
He’s not sure when you went from barely a friend to this — you’re a crush, an Achilles heel, the unattainable from the moment he met you, the moment he knew you. Steve feels like he’s been building himself towards you, pushing his growth to aim for anywhere near enough for you. You’ve been too good for him from the start.
It doesn’t stop him from loving you.
Steve realises after a moment that he hasn’t said anything when your fingers start to slip from his. His grip tightens to keep your hand in his.
“No, I— Stay. I...” It’s a struggle to say it, too many years of suppressing any urge to ask for comfort. “I don’t want to be alone, either. Or for you to be. Stay.”
Your lips, chapped and still with a hint of blood, twitch into somewhat a smile. “Okay.”
This time it’s Steve who drags you along, both slowly moving up the stairs. Each step threatens to reopen the scabs that have only just begun to form. It’s like some micro-dose of torture, Steve thinks, hearing your winces behind him.
The fluorescence of the bathroom lights is bright enough to make your eyes fly shut. Steve’s braver, taking only a moment to pause. He ignores how the lights dance, a sickening comparison to his experience with the drugs that had barely left his system. Though it’s the last thing he wants, Steve drops your hand to begin his search.
When your eyes blink open, prepared to face the lights, you’re a bit perplexed to see Steve hunting through the linen cupboard. He produces a towel, white and fluffy.
You cringe internally at the thought of sullying the pale colour with blood but it’s but a blip in tonight’s problems. Besides, the Harrington’s could certainly afford to replace it.
“Here.” Steve murmurs. You both seem to have agreed to keep softly spoken for the night.
He presses the cotton into your hands as he walks, ready to shoulder out and take care of himself. There was an en-suite in his own room — and sure, it would hurt like hell rinsing his wounds but he’d done it last year. Blasted the heat so he was wincing at the burn atop his skin and not the ache underneath it. 
“Steve?” You question, turning and halting his feet. He pauses, confused by the questioning expression on your face. He gestures to the shower, hiding how the movement makes his ribs sting painfully.
“You can shower here and- and the guest room’s all made up.” The words trip a bit on the way out, weakness beginning to weigh on his voice.
Somehow being back home crumbles his walls sooner than he’d like. Tonight has been heavy, a burden that lies thick on his shoulders and creeps down, taking root in his muscles.
But Steve will do what he had done last year; take the punches, burn them off in the heat of the shower — hot enough that he can’t feel any tears — and then deal with it.
“No, s’not that.” You shake your head, a strand of hair coming loose. “I... What about you?”
What about all the blood? The bruises and cuts? You’d seen the scars littered on the skin of his face from Billy, cuts that had healed wrong and left marred skin. Wounds left uncared for, only healed with time.
The question only begs more confusion from Steve. He gestures to somewhere behind him as he says, “There’s another shower, don’t worry.”
He pulls a smile to ease you. It wobbles at the ends of his mouth. Something claws into your heart, a profound heartache at the thought it doesn’t even occur to Steve to take care of himself.
“Steve,” you begin, beginning to get a sense of the wall you’re encountering.
Steve Harrington has some very thick defenses and not without good reason; they’ve got him through some treacherous times. Even now, he uses it like a crutch, a seal to hide away horrid memories. Ignored in favour of temporary strength. 
You don’t need his display of strength — you’re not one of the kids that needs to be shielded from the reality that even Steve has a breaking point — certainly not when his state is far worse than your own.
But you have a feeling he doesn’t know how to switch it off. Steve doesn’t seem to understand what you mean when you say you don’t want him to be alone. 
“Steve, you’re not okay.”
“I’m- I’ve done this before, alright?” He insists, eyes darting between yours, features turning stonier. You can see his defensiveness begin to curl his shoulders in. “I’m alright, I promise.”
“Are you?” You say, not unkind. “Tonight was— Steve, you were tortured.”
The effect of your words is instantaneous. Steve’s face falters, his icy expression dissolving with a shudder he can’t stop. You watch it warp him painfully, jaw clenching and eyes misty; he blinks furiously to clear them. You continue.
“You can’t just- just bounce back from that. Nobody can.” You shake your head as if it proves your point. “It doesn’t matter if you’ve done this before, this— this is a lot for anyone, even—”
“Well then, why are you still here, huh!” His words interrupt your own, tone angrier than you’re expecting. “If this is so much!”
His chest rises and falls quickly, brows draw together like it hurts to breathe so harshly. The words don’t sting, but his tone does. You reel in your hurt and focus past his anger, focus on what it really is.
A final line of defense. A ploy to make you upset or angry, to make you emotional enough to storm out and leave him to lick his wounds alone. Another way to ignore it, compartmentalize what happened instead of facing it head on.
Maybe it’s cruel of you to make him deal with it so soon. But you care, too much to pretend to ignore his pain. 
“Steve.”
“Don’t.” It wobbles, voice weak. His anger has already drained away in a moment.
“You’re not alright,” you insist, voice barely above a whisper. “C’mere.”
You don’t give him a choice, your free hand reaching out to snag his own, which hangs loose at his side.
Steve stumbles forward as you tug him back into the bathroom. Without his anger, he’s pliant and goes without protest. Your gentle fingers on his chest nudge him in the direction of the sink, the cool porcelain pressing through the back of his soiled Scoops top.
“Can you do something for me? Can you...” You bite your already bloody lip, nervousness sketched across your features.
How can you say this without giving too much away? It feels too intimate, like flying too close to the sun, well within the realm of potentially hurting your own feelings. You’ll do it for him gladly. 
“Can you just...let me take care of you?”
It hurts like a sucker punch to the gut. Like a breath has been forced out of his chest, because when was the last time someone has asked him that?
Silence stains the air.
“It won’t be pretty.” He croaks finally, still giving you an easy out. Still prepared to spare you the ugliness of his emotions.
“Doesn’t matter to me,” You respond, lips twitching. You bare your heart and half hope he sees it — sees it and knows he’s loved when you say, “Not if it’s you.”
Another beat of quiet.
“Okay.” Steve breathes, so faintly you barely hear it. Then as if you’ll rescind the offer any moment, he nods fervently.
Your smile is genuine, maybe the first in hours and something in you relaxes. He won’t fight you on this. He may have taken the beating earlier for you but, at the very least, you can do your best to patch him back up — let your hidden feelings translate into a gentleness he so very deserves.
It takes only a quick rummage beneath the sink to find a first-aid kit. It feels wildly underprepared; an afterthought purchase once upon a time that was only ever intended for scraped knees. It hasn’t ever been opened. The tear of the zipper is the only noise in the bathroom, bouncing off the tiles.
As expected, there’s not much in it. It contains a box of plasters in multiple sizes, one roll of gauze, a bottle of antiseptic, and a mixture of other pills and eye drops.
Some loose safety pins rattle around in the bottom as you take inventory. It’s not stellar and you’re no doctor, but it’ll do. It has to do.
When you finally look up, wondering where to begin on his injuries, Steve is regarding you with a look you can’t quite name.
If you were sure of yourself, you might call it awe.
You tell yourself it’s because you’re here, helping him, and it can be awfully easy to mix up feelings when you’re getting stitched up. You don’t let your hopes rise, not even for a moment.
Steve’s blood sings, ears rushing with the sound of it when you step closer. You’re so damn close. Steve can’t ignore the scent that carries with you, his brain involuntarily committing each detail of you that he can get to memory - lest he never gets you this close again.
You want to take care of him; Steve thinks this might be a dream.
Nimble fingers work to gather some cotton with antiseptic and then you’re holding it up, posed, and ready to mend.
“Can you sit up on the counter?” You ask, all sweetness. Steve obliges easily, despite the protests from his sore body that cries out as he shifts up. You smile, then warn, “This might sting.”
It’s overwhelming as you step closer, between his legs, and take the cotton to his face with a gentleness Steve hasn’t felt in years. His eyes close instinctively.
It does sting. The wince leaks out through his clenched teeth, soothed instantly by your soft apologies that pour out like honey.
For a moment, it’s easier this way; with his eyes closed, Steve can pretend this is usual. That when he gets roughed around, there’s someone to tend and clean his wounds — instead of just himself and the harsh rinse of the hot shower.
He tries and fails not to think of last year, his poor attempts to patch himself up. Hands too shaky, touch too rough.
The memory bites. The injuries of tonight somehow feel worse. A tinge of bile taints his mouth and Steve swallows it back down, concentrating on you.
You’re not quite humming but soothing noises, low and soft, come from your throat. Steve’s not even sure you know you’re doing it. His hands clench emptily as his side — the split knuckles make them hurt and when you’re this close, the itch to hold you is near unbearable.
It doesn’t take long for the first cotton pad to turn a violent shade of pink. Steve’s face looks a tad clearer than before but uncovering old blood means finding new wounds.
Your stomach burns pitifully as you take them all in. There are too many to count, a thousand different hues — broken blood vessels that run in all directions, little labyrinths under his skin.
Why does it hurt so much? Even with your bound shoulder that still sends out pain with every motion, it all dulls away when you look at Steve. Lashes fluttering, eyes still closed, marred with wounds you’re begging to ease. You know it hurts so much because you care.
Love is pain, you suppose, with only a twinge of bitterness. It’s swallowed instantly, consumed and disintegrated by the fact you get this. The boy you love, between both palms, trusting you to take care of him.
A year ago, you’d met only the steely exterior he’d put up — and thought it had simply been remnants of King Steve. Maybe Steve Harrington was as much of an asshole as half the town said.
He was all bite, glowers, and clipped answers. With time though, he’d softened like snow melting in the sun; all the parts of him trickling into your life until he was cemented by your side. 
He hadn’t even let you patch him up after the scrap with Billy that had taken him out. You hadn’t felt you could ask.
But this time...your throat grows a bit thicker at the trust that binds the pair of you. Affection rushes your system and forces a sharp inhale from your lungs. You step back.
The space makes it easier to breathe. Dials down the chances of pressing your lips against his skin — if only to give him a mark born of love. Hands searching through the first-aid kit again, you produce some painkillers and locate an arnica pill.
You give yourself one more moment; inhale and withhold the tidal wave of devotion that begs to spill from within you.
“Take these, please.” You say quietly, uncurling one of his fists to press the pills into. He swallows them dry.
You prep more cotton and begin again with the gentle touches, coaxing off dried blood. This time, Steve’s eyes stay open. He watches you, an unreadable emotion in his eyes.
You work away the blood from a cut above his eyebrow and when it’s clean, your thumb follows. You caress along the broken skin as if you could meld it back together with pure will.
Steve’s chest grows tight. Something about you being here, taking care of him makes the night’s memories all too present. Nausea sways in his gut. It’s impossible to shove them to the back, to press them down, when it feels like each cut is being reopened. Cleansed with a douse of love.
You’re altering the history of each wound but to do so, he has to recall how each of them was carved into his skin. It hurts. Why are you still here?
Steve’s head pulls back unexpectedly, eyes shuttering closed in a scrunched expression. You startle a bit.
“Shit, I’m sorry — too harsh?”
He makes a strained noise, effectively gutting you with it. If you weren’t so close — an inch further and you could press your forehead to his — you wouldn’t hear it. Hear the tiny whisper that scratches out the word, “Why?”
“What?” You whisper. You don’t understand.
“Why...Why are you...?” He’s clearly struggling to find the words he wants. His hand reaches up, fingers brushing the bridge of his nose before he drops it again. His chin quivers. It stops your heart for a moment to realise he’s crying.
“I don’t— I don’t understand.” Steve grinds the words out, voice thick. A tear splatters, seeping into the blue of his uniform. He won’t look at you, eyes trained on the loose thread on his shorts.
“Steve?” you murmur, wary and heavy with concern. This is— you don’t know what this is.
“I don’t understand.” He repeats, shaking his head slightly. He seems to choke on the next words. “You’re still here. Why are you...? Everybody...”
He trails off, some whimper of sorts forcing its way out his throat. You’re stuck, absorbing each of his words and putting together the pattern that Steve can’t seem to voice. I don’t understand. You’re still here. Why are you...? Everybody... Everybody leaves. 
Oh.
Rich King Steve who’s got it all. The house, the car, and any girl he fancies, all of them fawning for a look from him at one of his legendary parties.
His lack of parental supervision had been lusted over in high school, furious whispers of envy over the fact he could get away with parties every weekend. That booze went missing and he never seemed to catch any shit for it. It occurs to you now that nobody was around to notice.
The absence in his life is vast and suddenly blindingly obvious — a chasm in his chest that is bleeding all his secrets to you.
Steve Harrington is lonely.
When you surge forward, injuries be damned, and your arms loop around his neck, there’s a moment of stillness. You can feel the tension in his muscles, hear his ragged inhale, and then— he sags into you, finally, finally letting himself lean on someone else.
His arms wind around your middle in a desperate motion, tugging you closer and the fabric of your shirt clenches between his fingers. His face buries in your neck and hot wet tears soak the collar of your shirt. You can hear his raspy noises, soft cries as he clings to you like a lifeline.
“Why did this happen to me?”
It fucking hurts to hear. You don’t know how to tell him there’s no why — that there is no reason that can justify why he’s gone through this much suffering. Just the bitter fact that, sometimes, bad things happen to good people.
“Steve,” you feel like you’re saying his name an awful lot tonight. You say it because you can’t begin to think of how to answer his heartbreaking question. “I—“
“I-I used to think,” The words are muffled into your neck. His grip on you is nearly tight enough to hurt but you don’t dare relent any space. His voice is barely above a whisper, just loud enough to hear. “That- that it was like karma, yanno?”
“Steve, no,” you whisper, horrified. If he hears you, he doesn’t show. 
“B-Because that first time,” He’s stuck on some belittling ramble about himself, continuing between his sniffs. “I definitely deserved it. But then I grew and I changed.”
Something twists painfully in your stomach.
“And then last year, it made sense, yeah? Billy, he was— a real piece of work.” He sniffs again, his voice a little harder at the mention of the deceased.
The tension falls away at the next sentence, voice wobbling through the thickness in his throat. “And I used to be like that, so—“
You pull back instantly, hands shifting back from around his neck. It effectively halts him, and whatever he was saying dies in his throat. Your hands move to cradle his jaw and, as lightly as you can with his injuries, you tug him from his hiding place and stare him in the face.
Steve’s eyes look bigger and browner full of tears. His nose is red, just the tip, and runs messily at the onslaught of tears. Pink splotches bloom underneath his cheeks, patchy and warm, his face etched in complete misery.
It wrecks you to see. More so to think he’s been shouldering all this alone since ‘83.
“People don’t deserve suffering, Steve.” You state it strongly enough that he can’t refute the truth, punctuating with your thumbs on either cheek, pressing light touches.
“You don’t deserve suffering. You never did.” Your voice quivers a bit, some shred of your heart shriveling pathetically at the fact you even need to tell him this. Your hands shake ever-so-slightly. A hot tear streaks down your cheek.
Steve crumbles. You don’t resist when he drops his head down, only move back in— offering a place to hide away again. You let him stay hidden away, a sanctuary in your arms, safe when he’s buried in the curve of your neck.
“And- and just ‘cause,” you say, sniffling a bit now. He holds his breath, a sharp inhale that quietens his whimpering crying. “Just ‘cause no one has stayed before doesn’t mean you don’t deserve this, Steve.”
His fingers press harsher into your back and your feet stumble a bit, pulled off balance. Adjusting your arms, you pull him tighter yet, hoping that the closeness will make all your sentiments seep in. Your shoulder aches terribly; you don’t dare move away.
“You know that, right?” You whisper, unable to stop your fingers from grazing the nape of his neck softly. “You deserve to be taken care of.”
A soft kiss to the side of his head, barely noticeable between his shakes, but it eases the strain on your heart. Time wanes and melts beneath the glow of the bathroom lights, an unending amount of tears that you suspect reach back further than just the memories of tonight.
You stay like this, holding him close. You give him all the time he needs, sweet nothings mumbled until he feels strong enough to face you— to face the world.
Eventually, Steve’s breathing slows, crying turning to trembling gasps. When he finally does retreat, you curse internally because of course, only Steve Harrington can still look devastatingly beautiful after crying.
Tears cling to his lashes, sparkling reflections. He wipes his nose on the back of his hand.
Silence ebbs. Steve gathers himself, another sniff, and wipes his nose before he lifts his head. You can see in his face the moment he’s about to apologise; the word sorry is about to come tripping out his mouth. You beat him to it.
“I’m sorry to inspire more tears,” Your voice, still quiet, aims for a comforting jest. “But I’m not quite done cleaning you up.”
You twist the cotton between your fingers to show him. Steve blinks, eyes focusing on your hand, perhaps surprised you’re still taking care of him. He forgets about his needless apologies. 
“Though, your tears did a lot of the work.” You say cheekily, a smile teasing at the edges of your lips. It makes him huff a laugh. Steve could nearly cry again; you’re so nice. He thinks about the last time cried, thinks about Tommy’s sneer, his scoffed words that told him toughen up, King Steve.
He lets you wipe them away, clear his face and patch it up as best you can. Any tension from before, the mental barb-wire defenses he had still held up to keep you out, has ebbed away. It’s softer now, easier between you two.
Trust flows from Steve in the form of his allowance, letting you fuss. It flows from you in the form of your touch, which still dances too close for just friends. You let your fingers dot the kisses across his face since you can’t.  
“You’re good at this,” Steve murmurs, breaking the silence. He allows himself the privilege of your touch, his fingers burning where they graze your sides.
Patching people up? Injuries from last year made sure you got decent practice on yourself. You’re decent, you’ll admit.
Maybe he means taking care of him. You’re proving to be very good at that. 
You want to. Somewhere rooted in feelings that sway closer to love, genuine love, is the urge to be the one who does it. The shoulder to cry on, the one who carries his woes when it gets too much — and you want him to do the same for you. Achingly, you want to take care of him; and him, you.
The thought burns so viciously through your chest, you sink your teeth into your bottom lip a bit meanly. It stings.
You don’t notice it, trying to rein in your drifting heart that sings to be closer to him, but Steve does. His fingers twitch; he wants to rescue it, pull it from your harsh grip with his thumb.
He does.
You stop moving.
His thumb is calloused, a bit rough against the supple plumpness of your bottom lip. The blood beneath it tingles, gloriously hot at the attention. Either all the air in the room has been sucked out or you’ve stopped breathing.
You’d hazard a guess it’s the second, given the stillness your body has taken on. Muscles locked, eyes frozen on his face — the only part of you that moves is your heart, thundering pumps going far too fast.
Steve’s gaze stays on his thumb on your lip. You’re desperate to find out what to call the emotion swimming in his eyes.
“Steve?” you say his name yet again, lips moving against his thumb. He blinks like a frog, one eye after the other, and drags his gaze up to your eyes.
His hand shifts, brushing across your mouth to hold the side of your jaw, cupping it sweetly. The cotton falls from your grip as Steve urges you closer with a gentle tug.
Then his eyes are back on your lips and even though it feels like slicing your own heart open to do it, you speak before he can kiss you.
“Please don’t,” you whisper, eyes crushing closed.
You want to terribly. The want for his kiss warbles from deep within you, a yawning ache. But it might just finish you off if it’s all heat of the moment — a kiss that is just some twisted thank-you because Steve isn’t used to being taken care of.
You clear your throat, swallowing heavily. “Not— not if it’s just for tonight. Not just because I stayed, please.”
There’s a pause. His shaky exhale breezes across your face. It’s possible your ears might be ringing as if straining to hear the sound of Steve’s heart— dying for a clue to what he’s feeling. You’re not brave enough to open your eyes and read it in his face.
His thumb scrapes across your bottom lip again and then— then, he kisses you, impossibly tender.
The tiny gasp that escapes you is consumed instantly, swallowed up by Steve’s kiss. He kisses gentle, touch so soft that it has you searching for more the moment you’ve got a taste of it.
You barely get a moment to lean into it, to kiss him back before Steve breaks it. He hovers close, close enough that you could steal another taste of his lips if you wanted. You want to— the ferocity of your eagerness sends a shiver along your spine. He speaks before you seize the opportunity.
“I want to.” He says, voice a bit raspy and the words inspire enough bravery to look at him, eyes creasing open. “I- I’ve wanted to for a while.”
You nearly sink in your relief, knees trembling for a moment as your hand comes up to enclose the wrist of the hand that holds your face. Thumb sweeping short strokes, you clutch the tan skin and lean into his caress.
“You mean it?” You whisper, far too excited. Your heart may as well be on your sleeve, cards once played close to your chest now splayed on the table. Your tone reveals all, spilling with hope, even as you ask whether it means the same to him as it does to you.
Yes. The word seems stuck in his throat, suddenly too thick to speak. Because it’s only three letters and that can’t possibly cover what Steve means when he says I’ve wanted to for a while.
That you’d somehow snuck into his life and intertwined among all of his heartstrings, like spun gold mixing until the whole organ felt terribly tangled in a way he’d never want to change.
Nancy had given him the thump of his head.
But you? You were the thump on his heart. Not a push for change, nor for growth — but permission to grant himself a second chance in love.
“I mean it.” He says, emotion coating each word. “Yes, god, I really mean it.”
And you let him tell you over and over again with his mouth pressed to yours, searing kisses that make your head dizzy and pulse speed.
Steve knows he’s not alright — not physically or mentally after what he’s faced tonight, not with the vice grip on his chest that had clung tightly and all the ugly parts of him had all slithered out for you to see.
He also knows that he will be alright, sometime in the far future.
When wounds have healed, when scars are beginning to fade, and the nightmares start being every couple of nights, instead of every night, then he’ll be nearly okay. It’ll take time, lots of it.
But when your gentle hands coax him to bed and you slip beneath the covers beside him, leaving a warm quick kiss upon his shoulder — Steve thinks that, maybe, that future isn’t nearly as far away as it seems.
Your hand finds his under the sheets, twisting your fingers together to act like an anchor in the inkiness of the night.
There are no nightmares that night.
tags below! @hawkinsindiana @harringtonbf @spideystevie​ look technically there’s no tags this is just all da bitches i’m always talking to <3
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moonstruckme · 5 months
Note
+quick idea!
what abt fuckboy!james/fuckboy!steve who’s so used to the idea of girls wanting to stay after they sleep w him, but with you, he wants to stay. you get up to leave and get your clothes on before he’s making up dumb excuses and whining with his little puppy dog gaze all like “well you don’t have to leave :(“
and ur just there smirking and trying not to laugh before u climb back in bed w his little clingy self
Thanks for requesting <3
Steve Harrington x fem!reader ♡ 699 words
Steve looks nice when he’s relaxed like this. There’s no carefully curated uptilt to his lips, and the muscles around his eyes are at ease, finally free of that dumb, smolder-y squint he does. You would've never denied that Steve is handsome, but he actually looks quite pretty when he’s not trying so hard. His face has gone soft against his pillow, limps plump and skin golden in the buttery morning light streaming through his curtains. 
You don’t intend to stick around to see that softness melt away. You’re quiet and efficient in changing into the clothes you’d worn the night before, leaving your shoes off for now so your steps remain soundless on Steve’s bedroom floor. You find some mouthwash under his sink and decide that’ll have to do in lieu of brushing your teeth for now, fixing your hair and double-checking that there’s no makeup leftover under your eyes before exiting the bathroom. 
Steve’s sitting up in bed. 
“Morning,” you greet him. 
“Morning.” He stretches, arching his back until it cracks. He tilts his head as his eyes focus on you. “You’re already dressed?”
“Yup.” You sit down on the edge of the bed to put your shoes on. “Thanks for letting me stay here last night.” 
“No problem.” He’s doing that stupid eye-squint thing again, albeit a more dulled, tired version, as he rakes his gaze showily up your body. It’s work to not roll your eyes. “I hope you had a good time.” 
“I did,” you confirm, finishing the knot on your second shoe. You stand. “Cool if I leave the front door unlocked on my way out, or did you want to follow me and lock it?”
Steve’s eyebrows cinch, and the squint takes on an unfamiliar nature. “You know, I’m not the type of guy to kick girls out first thing in the morning. You can stay for breakfast, if you want.” 
You give him an appeasing smile. “Thanks, but I’ve got food at home.” 
He sits up straighter, covers slipping down to reveal the waistband of his boxers. “Don’t you need a ride or something?”
“I can take the bus.” 
“Well, I could drive you if you’d just give me a second to get up.” 
“Steve.” You don’t bother hiding the bemusement from your expression. “I really don’t mind taking the bus.” 
Steve pauses with one leg out of the bed and one still in, and you let your gaze linger on his naked thigh for just a moment before forcing your eyes back up to his face. It’s as confused as you imagine yours has to be, but you could almost swear the look in his eyes is tinged with hurt. “What’s the rush?” he asks you. “Do you have somewhere to be or something?”
“No,” you answer with a shrug. “There’s just no point in me sticking around here, and I figured I’d get out of your hair.”
“You’re not in my hair.” 
“I’m not?”
“No.” Steve runs a hand through his hair, one side pressed flat from being smushed against his pillow. You sort of want to stick your fingers in there and ruffle it. “It’s not…you’re not bothering me, or anything.” 
You raise your eyebrows at him. “That’s good.” 
“Just—” Steve blows out a breath. He seems puzzled, and he also seems like being puzzled is frustrating for him. This doesn’t feel like the insouciant, self-possessed boy who’d led you into his bed the night before. “You don’t have to rush out. You could stay for a little while.” 
You cock your hip, giving him an appraising look. “And do what?”
“I dunno,” Steve says, and it occurs to you that he really is at a loss. He doesn’t seem used to having to ask for people to stay. “We could have breakfast, if you want. I could make you an omelet.” That squint is back, like this should be enticing to you.
You huff a laugh but set your bag down, heading for the kitchen. “Steve Harrington, I do not believe for one second that you know how to make an omelet. How about you show me where the supplies are, and I’ll cook us something good.”
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keerysfolklore · 1 month
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Beneath The Blankets; S.H | author: I suffer with painful periods, so purely self indulgent… <333
pairing: steve harrington x reader
warnings: established relationship, period cramps, fluff etc, stevie takes care of reader
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The snow fell softly outside the window, blanketing Hawkins, Indiana in a serene white. Inside, however, there was nothing serene about the situation. Y/N lay curled up on the recliner chair, her face contorted in pain as she battled through excruciating period cramps. She had reluctantly taken the day off work, unable to concentrate on anything other than the waves of agony rippling through her body. Oh how she hated being a girl sometimes.
Y/N winced as another wave of cramps washed over her, causing her to reach for her phone on the coffee table. With trembling fingers and curled toes she unlocked the screen and composed a quick text to Steve.
"Hey Stevie, could you pick up some more pads on your way home? Running low. Thanks baby. xx”
Sending the message, Y/N sighed and leaned back against the couch, hoping Steve would see the text soon. She closed her eyes, trying to focus on breathing through the pain while she waited for his reply.
It didn't take long for her phone to buzz with a response.
"Of course, cutie. I'll grab some on my way. You need anything else? x "
Y/N smiled at Steve's prompt reply, grateful for his thoughtfulness.
"Just the pads, thanks. love u xx"
She hit send and tucked her phone back beside her, feeling a sense of relief knowing that Steve would take care of her needs. As she waited for him to arrive, Y/N allowed herself to relax, knowing that soon she would have the supplies she needed to weather through the rest of the day.
An hour passed. As Y/N whimpered out of her sleep, a knock echoed through the cozy living room. She struggled to sit up, wincing at the pain, and called out weakly, "Come in."
The door creaked open, and in stepped her boyfriend, Steve. He kicked off his boots, shaking the snow off them before hurrying over to Y/N's side. Concern etched his features as he saw her pale complexion and the lines of pain etched on her face.
“Honey what have I told you about not checking who was at the door?it could be a murderer or-“ Steve stopped mid sentence when he saw the sight in front of him. Even in pain he thought she was still a goddess. "Y/N, are you okay?" Steve asked, kneeling beside her tucking a strand of hair behind her ear as he kissed her forehead.
Y/N managed a weak smile, grateful for his presence. "I've had better days," she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper.
Without hesitation, Steve gently lifted her into his arms and carried her to the couch, arranging blankets around her to keep her warm. “I’ve got your stuff here I’ll pop them on the side for you.” He disappeared into the kitchen and returned with a hot water bottle and a mug of steaming hot peppermint tea.
"Here, this should help baby girl." Steve said.
Y/N gratefully accepted the offerings, pressing the hot water bottle against her stomach and taking a sip of the soothing tea. She sighed, feeling a slight relief wash over her.
"Thank you, Stevie," she murmured, feeling incredibly lucky to have him by her side.
Steve sat down beside her, his arm around her shoulders, offering silent support. They sat in companionable silence for a while, the only sound in the room the crackling of the fire in the fireplace and the occasional gust of wind rattling the windows. Steve rubbed his nose across her face humming to himself.
After some time, Y/N's pain began to subside slightly, and she felt herself starting to relax in Steve's comforting presence. She leaned into him, closing her eyes as she focused on the warmth of his body and the steady rhythm of his breathing.
Steve brushed a gentle kiss against her nose, his touch tender and reassuring. "Well you’re in luck baby I think we’re gonna get snowed in tomorrow so I guess I’m gonna have to look after my girl all day." Smothering her face with kisses he whispers “I’ll take care of you baby.”
Tears welled up in Y/N's eyes at his words, touched by his unwavering love and support. Hormones on a high. She reached up to cup his cheek, her heart overflowing with gratitude.
"I love you, Stevie baby. A snow day with you sounds perfect." she whispered, the words a soft declaration of her feelings.
"I love you too, Y/N, my girl." Steve replied, his voice filled with emotion. Her heart fluttered.
In that moment, as they sat together in the quiet warmth of their home, surrounded by the soft glow of the fire and the gentle embrace of the falling snow, Y/N knew that she was exactly where she was meant to be. With Steve by her side, legs intertwined. She felt safe, loved, and cherished, even on days where she felt awful.
As the afternoon faded into evening and the snow continued to fall outside, Y/N drifted off to sleep, her pain finally easing as she surrendered to the comfort of Steve's arms. Steve’s eyes began to flutter to a close. The storm raged on, inside their home, there was nothing but warmth, love, and the promise of brighter days ahead.
Tagging some faves @freckledjoes @seatnights @stevesxyellowxsweater @taintedcigs @stveharringtn @strangerstilinski @forevermoreharrington @maroon-cardigan @hollandweather @munsonsreputation @lavendermunson @supernovafics @palmtreesx3 @ghostlyfleur & any of you lovely lot who support me ily <3333
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steddieasitgoes · 1 month
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written for @steddielovemonth Day 19 prompt: Love is helping them unwind after a rough day (@lihhelsing) and Love is the comfort of quiet moments (@tboygareth) Rating: G | wc: 718 | no cw Tags: established relationship, fluff, teacher!steve, rockstar!eddie
Steve knew when he started teaching that his job wasn’t always going to be easy. That for every breakthrough lesson he taught where every one of his students understood and had fun learning, there would be just as many days where he left as frustrated as the kids because the material just wasn’t clicking. 
Today was one of those days. 
No one was more excited when the dismissal bell rang than Steve. Usually, he’d stick around, grade a few papers, or mingle in the teacher’s lounge but today he packed up his bag just as fast as his kids and bolted to his car. 
All he wanted to do was get home, unwind, and have a nice night with Eddie. Maybe make dinner and finally watch the movie Eddie rented a few days ago for them to watch before he got called in for a rewrite session at the studio. 
Steve makes it no more than ten steps into the house before his sock-covered foot collides with something hard. At first, he thinks it’s their senior dog Joe — it wouldn’t be the first time he’s tripped over him — but as Steve tumbles to the floor, he realizes he’s tripped over Eddie. 
His ass breaks the fall, colliding with the cold tile with a force that’s certain to leave a bruise — one Eddie is no doubt going to poke and prod at because he’s a gremlin, but that’s a problem for later. Right now, he needs to figure out why his boyfriend is currently sprawled out on the floor in the middle of their foyer. 
“Rough day?”
Eddie’s response comes in the form of a groan, seemingly too tired to respond with his words. He kicks his legs out farther, starfishing on the floor before scrunching his eyes so tight Steve wants to knead the doughy flesh on his forehead. 
“Yeah,” Steve sighs, “me too.” 
“Floor time,” Eddie mumbles, patting the spot next to him. 
The time it’s Steve who responds non-verbally, grumbling incoherent words as he lowers himself gently to the hard floor. He’s careful with his head, tucking one arm under to act as a cushion. The cold shocks him for all of two seconds before he feels himself sinking into the tile. The weight of today’s shitty day disappears as his body finally relaxes and the world fades into the background. 
Steve doesn’t do this as often as Eddie does, but it’s nice. Really nice. They don’t listen to music or talk about their day. They don’t kiss or touch beyond an occasional hand squeeze. They simply lie there with their eyes closed and listen to the sound of their heartbeats.
He had joked once that what they were doing was a form of meditation, but Eddie had scoffed at that — not wanting to participate in the “latest conformist trend” that is yoga, so they call it floor time instead.
As Steve lays there, enjoying the feeling of the cold tile on his tense muscles, he can’t help but break the no-touching rule and reaches his hand out in search of Eddie’s. He finds it immediately, taking his ink-stained hands into his own. His fingers curl around Eddie’s ring-clad ones and he gives it a gentle, reassuring squeeze. 
“I love you,” he whispers, soft enough that Eddie might not hear him. 
But he does. 
Eddie always does. 
“No talking during floor time,” Eddie quietly reprimands, before squeezing Steve’s hand back in return. A moment passes before, Eddie tilts his head to the side and opens one eye to look at Steve. “Love you too, baby.” 
In a little while they’ll peel themselves off the floor and head into the kitchen to cook dinner. Steve will playfully swat Eddie’s hand away from the simmering pot of sauce and he’ll give him those big puppy dog eyes until he caves and lets him get a taste. And then they’ll sit across from each other at their small dining room table playing footsie while they each vent about the shitty days they’ve had before retiring to the bedroom where they’ll take turns taking each other apart. 
But for now, it’s floor time. 
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