#steve harrington enemies to lovers | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

reputationmunson · 1 year

Note

hi mads! how r you? i was wondering if i may request a enemies to lovers with fake dating between reader and steve? where she's shy and kinda nice with everyone but somehow doesn't get along with him... and suddenly they have a situation and have to pretend to be dating... btw, love your writing!

i’m doing well and i hope you are too :) thank you for the request and i’m so happy you enjoy my writing that means so much to me! i hope you like this and i hope it's okay i'm making it multiple parts!

Crossing Lines | S.H x fem!reader

Part One | part two | part three | part 4

summary: Steve isn’t your biggest fan (understatement of the year), so why does he ask you to be his fake girlfriend for a wedding?

content: enemies to (eventual) lovers, fake dating, mentions of drinking, swearing, a guy at the bar is kind of creepy, mentions of reader and eddie having a past fling, use of y/n (not too often)

word count: 3.7K

a/n: this is a little shorter than I anticipated, but I’m going to try and make future parts longer.

There’s something strange about having an “enemy”. Especially when that enemy is Steve Harrington. You don’t exactly consider him an arch nemesis, but there’s really no other way you can describe your relationship with him. You aren’t friends with him by any means, not anymore, despite your several attempts at kindness.

Cupcakes you made him got thrown in the trash, smiles you’ve given him had been reciprocated with glares, and every time you spoke was the perfect time for him to roll his eyes.

No matter how many times you try to pinpoint a moment in your life where you might’ve offended him or done something to make him have such a great dislike for you, there’s nothing you can come up with.

You never had many interactions with Steve in high school, which isn’t very surprising. You always tried to stay in the background with your nose buried in a book and he was the complete opposite of that.

You admit you had a teeny tiny crush on him in high school, much like the other girls. How could you not? He was so charismatic and carried himself with confidence. You weren’t as immune to the Harrington charm as much as you liked to pretend you were.

It wasn’t until he became friends with Robin a few years ago that you had your first real conversation with him. She’s been your best friend since you were six and if she was convinced he changed, then you were willing to give him a chance.

He seemed like a completely different person than the boy you used to pass in the halls as he talked about how wasted he got the night before with his herd of wannabe Steves.

He was friendly and also a little bit of a clutz. Sort of awkward, as well. He was still handsome, though. A lot more handsome. His eyes were kinder and his hair as lovely as ever. You always wondered how it managed to still look so soft after that much product usage.

After the first two months of what seemed to be a friendship, he flipped the switch. His words to you became grumbles and he always kept a distance from you, like he’d go into anaphylactic shock if any part of him accidentally brushed yours.

It drove you mad. The one thing in life you always tried to do was treat everyone with kindness no matter what and he made it nearly impossible. You had more friends in your life now than you thought imaginable and it was nearly perfect, but all you seemed to be focused on is how much Steve hates you.

From Steve’s point of view, he would never outright say that he hates you. It’s more of an annoyance. Your shared friend group constantly raves about how great and delightful you are. The kids, who aren’t kids anymore but always will be to Steve, idolize you. Everyone thinks you walk around with rainbows and sprinkles shooting out of every single one of your orifices.

You and your delicious baked goods that you make in celebration every time someone so much finds a lucky penny on the ground. You and your stupid perfume that makes you smell like a damn bouquet of flowers. Your dumb dimples and eyes that some might claim light up a room every time you smile. Don’t even get him started on the short, nonsensical pleated skirts you wear.

You’ll probably be wearing one of those skirts tonight when you all go out for drinks later and he dreads it, terribly. Definitely not because he’s attracted to you, no, that’s insane, but because of all the guys that are going to swoon over you and he’ll have to be responsible for making sure none of those creeps try to touch you.

Robin made it very clear to him early on that you are off limits. She told him he wasn’t ready for a girl like you. You’re different from the girls he takes on dates and sleeps with. You aren’t a ‘hit it and quit it’ kind of gal, as she put it. . She said you’re a hopeless romantic, spending the rest of your life with one person, the type of love they write songs about, kind of gal. Steve wants to settle down one day, but he also isn’t ready for that yet.

Apparently, Robin forgot to give Eddie the same speech because Steve caught the two of you in a hot and heavy makeout sesh at a party awhile ago. Steve put all of the puzzle pieces together that you and Eddie were secretly hooking up. It wasn’t hard to figure out with all the glances, giggles, and body language. Plus, the sexual tension was so obvious.

No one else knew, neither of you even know that Steve’s aware anything ever happened.

Yes, you and Eddie were hooking up. Past tense. It was nice at first, way more than nice. You’d never done the whole no strings attached thing and you felt comfortable with him, but then you both quickly realized that it would end in complete disaster and called off the agreement. Surprisingly, there was no awkwardness after, but you did miss him sometimes.

It was gratifying to be out of your comfort zone, but you needed more. You wanted a love that felt like an easy Sunday morning everyday, but as long as you were confined to Hawkins, you doubt that you’d ever find it.

The bar was absolutely packed tonight, crawling with regulars, college kids back for the summer, and high school students with fake ids. There was a bachelor party sitting in the corner shouting obscenities and catcalling any girl that walked by them.

It was overwhelming. Usually this place, even on its busiest night, is still manageable to walk to.

Your walk to the table where your friends are sat feels like you’re climbing mount everest.

“y/n! you’re here!” Robin hops out of her seat at the high top table and throws her arms around you, squeezing you a little too tight. You can smell the tequila on her breath and her cheeks are flushed. That, combined with her affection for you, alerts you she’s one drink away from being hammered.

Everyone else happily greets you, apart from Steve who gives you a tight lipped smile and takes a drink of his beer so he doesn’t have to say hi because god forbid he speaks one of the shortest words in the english language to you.

“I’m gonna go grab a drink. Does anyone need anything?” you ask. “I’ll go get your drink. It’s a madhouse in here, what do ya want?” Eddie offers and you lay your hand on his shoulder, making Steve subtly roll his eyes so no one notices. “That’s sweet, Eds, thank you. I’ll have a vodka cran please”

“He’s, like, so in love with you” Robin says and you laugh. Steve laughs too, but not out of being humored like you are. “He’s not in love with me. He’s just nice, unlike most of the guys in here” you say the last part a bit louder and look at Steve when you say it. His eyes roll again and you think that must be the only thing he’s good at because he does it all the time.

“Your beverage, madam” Eddie says as he hands you your drink and sets down a tray of tequila shots for the table. “Do we really need more shots, Eddie?” Steve groans. “Tapping out already, Harrington? I guess we shouldn’t be surprised” you tease and he scoffs. “Oh, that’s just rich coming from you”

“heyheyhey, can you two have your lovers quarrel another time? We’re all here to have a good time, okay?” Robin reminds you and you give her a sorry smile. “You’re right, I’m sorry. Let’s not waste this tequila!” you exclaim

You all cheers your shot glasses and when you lick the salt of your hand, Steve’s eyes can’t leave you. He’s still staring when you put the lime in your mouth afterwards, you close your eyes in satisfaction and suck out all the juices. He hopes he never has to watch you take another shot again.

When your eyes open, you see Steve staring at you and he immediately looks away and pretends to be occupied by whatever the bachelor party to his left is doing. His mind drifts to the wedding he has to go to next weekend. One of his cousins on his fathers side of the family is getting married and he’s dreading it. Being surrounded by his snooty, rich family members who are all CEO’s of some business and they’re all married to or engaged to the ‘perfect woman’ that they undoubtedly cheat on while away on ‘business’ trips.

Speaking of business, they can’t keep their noses out of Steve’s life. When are you going to get a ‘real’ job?, when are you gonna settle down and have kids?, are you still living in that tiny apartment?. So no, he isn’t exactly looking forward to telling his family he��s a single loser who practically lives in a shoebox.

“Steve? Are you okay?” your voice brings him back from his thoughts. “Yep. perfectly fine”

“Ya sure? You seem distracted” he hates that you care. Eighty percent of the time, you’re still so nice to him, apart from a few jabs every now and then, despite his coldness towards you. “Just thinking, so you don’t have to pretend that you care.”

“Okay…I’m gonna go to the bathroom” you say before leaving the table.

“Why are you such a dick to her? She’s the nicest one out of all of us.” Eddie’s tone is sharp as he defends you. “I’m just stressed about this wedding I have to go to and my entire family is going to be there and I’m the only one without a date so that’s just another thing they’re going to criticize me for” Steve sighs and looks down at his drink.

“How about that girl you went out with last month? Trisha?” Nancy suggests and Steve scrunches his nose. “No can do. I realized I slept with her roommate after the first date” he cringes at the memory of walking into her apartment and seeing a familiar face sitting on the couch.

“You could borrow nance? She’d just have to take off the engagement ring” Jonathan jokes and the table laughs. Steve considers it for a half of a second, but realizes his parents already know about her engagement to jonathan. “Nice job, Steve. You let the only decent girl who liked you get away and now she’s with that byers boy” he recalls his dad saying in a snarky tone.

“I have the perfect idea!” Robin exclaims and everyone waits for her to continue “you should ask y/n to be your date!”

“That’s a terrible idea, Robin. Why would I do that?” It isn’t a terrible idea. His family would be over the mood to see him with a girl like you. You’re kind, funny, smart and gorgeous, but he’d never admit those things to anyone, least of all you. But the thought of spending a whole weekend with you seems like torture.

“Actually, that could work. You need to get over this weird hatred you have for her and this could be some good bonding! Maybe you’ll finally realize how great she is” Nancy states. “I know you all worship the ground she works on, but that isn’t good enough reason to ask her to pretend to be my girlfriend”

“Just think about it, okay?” Nancy says, kindly and he half-heartedly nods. The conversation ceases as you arrive back at the table and everyone stares at you. “What? Do I have something on my face?”

“No. Nothing. We just missed you” You know Robin is acting weird about something, but you let it go. “um, okay. I missed you guys too for the whole five minutes I was gone. I'm gonna go get another drink.” you tell them before making your way to the bar.

“Hey, beautiful. Wanna take a shot with us?” One of the men from the bachelor party asks as you walk by their table. “No thanks. Have a good night, guys” you walk away and hope they leave you alone.

One of the guys gets up to follow you. Steve’s keeping an eye on you and moves to get up when he sees the guy following you. “I’ll be right back, guys”

“C’mon, baby, let me buy you a drink” Steve hears him say to you as you’re standing at the bar. You look uncomfortable and with the bar packed, you barely have a way to escape. “I already said no. Just go back to your friends”

When he moves closer, Steve steps in between the two of you. “She said no, man. Just leave her alone, alright?”

“you her boyfriend?” he slurs and Steve can’t believe the words that come out of his mouth “yeah, i am. so, fuck off, okay?” your eyes widen when Steve says he’s your boyfriend.

“Alright, alright.” the guy puts his hand up in defense “she’s all yours, buddy”

“are you okay? you’re not gonna cry or anything are you?” he asks when he turns around to face you. “No, I'm fine. You didn’t have to do that. Thank you” you smile at him sweetly.

“It’s whatever. Don’t let it get to your head” And just like that the Steve you know is back. “Can you tell everyone that I went outside for some air?” you ask and he nods then you go your separate ways. He watches the door to make sure you get outside alright.

“So, hypothetically” Steve starts once he returns to the table “How would I go about asking her to be my fake girlfriend?”

“Just be honest about it. Oh! and offer to pay for everything!” Robin says. Her advice could not be more vague. “I still think this is a terrible idea, but I literally have no other options, so when this goes to shit just remember it was all of your fault” he tells them before turning around and bearing the crowd to get outside.

When he walks out the door and into the fresh air, he sees you standing up against the brick exterior of the building. “Don’t tell me you came out here to check on me. Thought you said I shouldn’t let anything go to my head?” you raise your eyebrows at him.

“You are not making this any easier” He puts his hands on his hips and throws his head back, letting out a sigh. “Making what any easier?”

“I have a proposition for you”

“I don’t do prostitution, Steve”

“It’s not- would you just let me talk?” he groans and you make a zipping motion over your lips and throw away the invisible key. “Okay, you owe me a favor after what I did for you, right?- don’t make that face you totally do- anyways, I have a wedding to go next weekend and my family is always harping on me about having a girlfriend and I was thinking-”

“you want me to be your girlfriend?” you ask in a skeptical tone.

“What did I say about letting me talk? and no not girlfriend, fake girlfriend. Just for three days”

“You can barely stand to be around me and you want me to be your pretend girlfriend?”

“Look, I know it’s weird, but we don't have to worry about feelings or some shit like that being a problem because there’s no way that would happen” he explains. “What do I get out of it?”

“A super fancy hotel and all expenses paid. You’ll even get to pretend that you’re dating someone as hot as I am” he smirks and you huff out a humorless laugh. “You’ll pay for everything?” he nods “you’ll drive, too? I hate driving” he nods again “and you’ll be nice to me?”

“Ugh, fine, okay. I will be so nice to you that you’ll puke. Is that a yes?”

“Sure, why not. Can I talk in a British accent and pretend to be part of the royal family? ya know, to fit in with the rich people?”

“Absolutely not”

“Why are you no fun, Stevie?” you whine. “Stevie?” his brows furrow. “yeah, i’m thinking that as your new girlfriend, my nickname for you is Stevie”

“Fake girlfriend” he reminds you “Stevie, you’re so uptight.” you pout at him and he hates himself for his eyes lingering on your lips.

“So, what time should I come over tomorrow?” you ask like you’ve already been invited to his apartment. “What?”

“We need to hang out so you can get used to not acting like I don’t have the plague. Plus, we need to get to know each other” you state. “Fine. Come over tomorrow night and we’ll go over everything”

“Looking forward to it, Stevie”

You knock on Steve’s door at 8 p.m. sharp with a bottle of wine in hand because let’s face it, you’re both going to need it. “Hi, Steviekins” you greet as he opens the door. “That’s worse than Stevie”

“You love Stevie and you know it”

“Just come inside” he grumbles. “I ordered a pizza if you want a slice. It’s in the kitchen”

Once the wine is poured and you sit on the couch to eat, you pull out your notebook and two pens from your bag. “Are we writing each other love notes or something?”

“No, doofus. We’re taking notes on each other. Our likes, dislikes, details about our relationship” you tear out a piece of paper and give him a pen. Even your pens and notebook were nauseatingly adorable. “If I knew this was going to be like school I would’ve asked Robin”

“ha!” you laugh loudly “she would punch you if you tried to hold her hand or do anything that was even remotely romantic” you point out “and you’re not going to punch me?”

“I’d like to say no, but I’d hate to be a liar”

You and Steve practically chug your wine and pour a second glass before playing your own version of twenty questions.

“What’s your favorite color?” you ask to start. “My favorite color? you really think my family is going to question you on shit like that?” he responds and you glare at him. “Okay, fine. um, blue, I guess”

“That’s so basic”

“Then what’s yours?”

“all of them” you reply. “all of them? really?” he snidely remarks. “yes, moving on”

You learn an abundant amount of things about each other, much against Steve’s will. You know each other's favorite candies, movies, songs, all the way to childhood memories and discussing scars you have and how you got them.

Then you moved on to the details of your relationship. Friends first, fell in love, you know the deal. You’ve “been together” for five months. Long enough that it’s somewhat serious, short enough for it to make sense that you haven’t met his parents yet.

The bottle of wine is almost gone and Steve’s cheeks are flushed and his eyes are a bit glossy. If he wasn’t the bane of your existence, you might even think he looks pretty.

“Can I ask you a question? and not one about your favorite food or anything like that” you ask in a soft voice and you seem a little nervous. “Sure, go ahead.”

“Why did you ask me to do this? i’m like the last person you should’ve asked”

“That’s actually why I asked. If I asked a girl that has any romantic interest in me at all, then it might get confusing, ya know? With you, once these three days are over we can go back to normal. There’s no risk of us falling for each other”

“Oh, I guess that makes sense. I have an observation, by the way. You always speak of love like it’s a terrible thing. Why is that”

“Holy shit that’s a loaded question. Um, well the first time I was in love was in high school and we all know how that turned out. Haven’t been in a serious relationship since so I guess it’s hard for me to believe that it’s as great as everyone says it is” he sighs. He’s never drinking wine again. If it makes him this vulnerable with you he can’t imagine what it would be like if someone else was sitting here.

“Do you still love her? Nancy?” you wonder. “No, I don’t. I have love for her, but just as a friend. What about you?”

“No, I’m not in love with Nancy. She’s pretty and all, but can’t say i’m in love with her”

“Shut up, you know what I mean. You’re always raving about some dumb romance novel, yet I’ve never seen you with a boyfriend.” he says and you sigh “There’s not much to tell. Hopeless romantic with standards that are too high”

There’s a hint of sadness in your voice and you clear your throat before speaking up again. “So, I think that’s enough for tonight. I know way more about you than I ever wanted to”

“Right back at ya. I’ll walk you to the door”

“It’s a short distance, I’ll manage”

“Hey, I gotta start working on being chivalrous as your fake boyfriend. Can you stop being stubborn for one second?”

He walks you ten steps to the door and even opens it for you. “Same time tomorrow night? unless you're busy” you say, halfway out the door. “What could we possibly have left to learn about each other?”

“We still have to work on acting like we’re in love. You might have to put your arm around me this weekend. Oh, the horrors!” you gasp dramatically and he suppresses a laugh because he refuses to let you think you have the ability to make him laugh.

“Tomorrow's fine. But if something comes up and you have to skip that would totally be okay”

“You’re such an ass” you whine. “Not as much as you are” he retorts.

You flip him off as you walk away and he does the same.

He can’t wait for next weekend to be over so he can go back to pretending like you barely even exist.

part two coming soon to a screen near you ;)

#steve harrington x fem!reader #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington enemies to lovers #steve harrington fic #steve harrington series #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington #stranger things fic

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katyswrites · 9 months

Text

put on your records (and regret me)

PART 1 | SERIES

Pairing: Steve Harrington/fem!reader

Warnings: asshole!Steve, rivals-to-lovers, swearing, alcohol references, no use of y/n

Wordcount: 2.5k

Playlist

You love WAMC-Hawkins, Indiana’s top college radio station. It’s your safe space, your niche. It’s where you’ve made your friends, your favorite place to be when the rest of the world gets to be just a bit too much. Well, with one exception.

Steve Harrington is a thorn in your side. And just as well - he thinks you’re a royal pain in the ass. But in your senior year, you’re both on the e-board, so you have to work together. You love to hate him. So why can’t you get him out of your head? And, why do you find yourself going to see his band, each and every weekend?

Underground basement concerts, spinning old records, and screaming matches in the vinyl library with the boy you love to hate. An enemies-to-lovers college radio station 90s AU.

TRACK 1

April 1994

“So, all votes are in?” Katie asked. Everyone in the room nodded, and you sat forward in your seat.

The current General Manager of the radio station, Katie, ran a tight ship. Still, nobody could deny that they were sad to see her leaving - graduation was claiming too many people this year. She glanced down at her clipboard, adjusting her glasses.

General Manager would be read first, you knew that - it was the closest position the station had to President, the person who ran the whole thing. And after the last three years, all signs pointed to Katie's successor being you. Most people didn’t want the job - it was pretty thankless, all on a volunteer basis, and the election is often more of a formality to the most obvious person. But, you were passionate about the radio station - you always had been. Running it wouldn’t be easy, but you knew you were the right person to do it.

You love WAMC-Hawkins, Indiana’s top college radio station. It’s your favorite place, your niche. There’s nothing you loved more than spinning some records on-the-air, hanging out in the station lounge, and being a part of something. It’s where you’ve made your friends, easily able to bond over your love of music, making it your safe space when the rest of the world gets to be just a bit too much. Well, with one exception.

You could feel Steve Harrington’s eyes on you from where he sat across the room. You pointedly ignored him, your clasped fingers growing clammy with anticipation.

“Drumroll, everyone!” she said, resulting in a cacophony of pats against legs, tables, or any available surface. When Katie read your name, the room broke into a smattering of applause.

“Congratulations!” Nancy cried from where she sat next to you, throwing her arms around your shoulders.

“Thanks,” you laughed, giving your friend a tight squeeze.

Despite the fact that you had expected this, a wave of relief washed over you. There was no glamor in keeping this place running, you knew that. Still, you cared too much about it, and now it was in your hands… just as you had hoped.

Your joy could only last so long, though - you were almost too caught up in your personal celebration to notice. Almost.

“Okay, and for Program Director… Steve!”

This time, a few whoops and hollers were let out - probably from Steve’s buddies, large in number and often loudly enthusiastic. But, you were just frozen, feeling your fists clench.

The Program Director coordinates a lot of things - new DJ training, events, stocking the music library… and works most closely with the General Manager. Meaning...

“Looks like we’re gonna be spending a lot of time together, sweetheart,” he said later with a smirk.

The meeting was long over - positions had been announced, congratulations given, goodbyes for the semester bid on the way out. You had sat there for the last hour with a rage steadily bubbling under the surface. You had tried your best to listen, relieved to find out Nancy was working as the Media Director, and your friend Eddie working as the Training Director. That, at least, offered some comfort - if you’d be running your favorite place with your friends, how bad could it be?

The answer, apparently, is still pretty shitty.

You can’t put a finger on exactly why Steve Harrington bothered you so much. But, from the moment you had met, he had been a thorn in your side. He knew it, too - it seemed to be his life’s mission to get on your nerves, just to get a rise out of you.

But he was blocking the exit, arm leaning casually against the doorframe. So, you took the approach you usually tried to - not letting him see that he was getting to you.

“Looks like it,” you said, words measured and careful. “But until then… have a good summer, Harirngton.”

You tried to shoulder past him, but he wasn’t budging. You sighed, meeting his gaze again and straightening up a bit.

“Do you mind?”

“I just thought you were gonna try to stick around - let me guess, you already have a 20-step plan for what we should do next year? I mean, I’m surprised you didn’t just jump all the new E-Board members to tell them how you’re going to run things. You know, in your insane and anal-retentive way.”

You clenched your jaw, grimacing as the notebook that you knew was buried in your backpack, containing your ideas for next year’s agenda.

"That's a pretty big word for you, I'm impressed," you mocked. Before he could come up with a clever reply, you continued:

“You know, I was surprised you ran for a position,” you said sweetly. “I mean, last I checked, you haven’t shown up to a single volunteer event. Were you even at the Spring fundraiser?”

“I was busy.”

“Funny way of saying hungover,” you retorted.

You took a deep breath, taking a moment to regain your composure.

“Look, we’re going to have to work together, so - can we just start over? Bury the hatchet, or whatever?”

He just grinned.

“Yeah, sure thing, sweetheart,” he said, voice lower. “You’re the boss.”

You had given up on asking him to drop the sweetheart thing long ago. So instead, you gave him a sharp nod, muttering have a good summer, Harrington.

He stepped aside enough to let you through, but still crowded the doorway enough that you had to brush past him as you did.

You ignored the way his breath caught as you did.

Maybe you could both be mature adults about this… maybe.

*******

September

“Harrington?!” You cry, stomping into the booth. Steve sits in the chair, switchboard alight as Head Over Heels plays through the speakers. He barely hears you enter, thanks to the headphones he’s wearing. When you slam your hands down on the desk, he jumps in his seat.

“Jesus - the fuck are you doing here?” he cries, yanking the headphones off to let them fall around his neck.

“You booked studio space without going through me,” you say angrily.

His face shifted then, from confusion to smugness.

“Oh - well, you were unreachable, and I only needed two board members’ approval. And, I count as a board member.”

“Who the fuck was the second person who approved it?”

“Eddie.”

You groaned. Of course - Eddie probably didn’t even know -

“So your band just happened to book studio space to go on-air during my show’s time slot?”

“Oh… it’s during your show?” he asks, voice saccharine with feigned innocence.

You rolled your eyes.

“Cut the act, Harrington. There are a ton of empty time slots that your little band could play during, you know.”

He sighed, crossing his arms and spinning the chair around to fully face you.

“If you’re so hurt about it, why don’t you come by? We need an emcee, and if you’re already usually here…”

“As if I’d waste my time coming to listen to you guys. I don’t even listen to your show.”

“So you’ve said. I thought your boyfriend was in the band too, last time I checked.”

You scoffed. “Eddie is not my boyfriend. And, not that he’d ever tell you, but he’s filling in as a favor. He’s only playing with you guys because Corroded Coffin broke up.”

Something unreadable flickers across Steve’s face, then he shakes his head.

“Yeah, okay - keep telling yourself that, sweetheart. But, we’ve got the time next Thursday - so, come by, don’t come by… I don’t give a shit. Just let me know by the weekend if you are - it’s only protocol, after all, and I know you’re a stickler for that.”

He pulls the headphones back over his ears, turning the volume of the music up a bit.

“Now, if you don’t mind - I’m about to go on-air, and I’d hate for everyone to hear your hissy-fit through the radio waves, you know?”

He returns his attention to the microphone, ready to turn down the music and start speaking - but you’re not giving him the satisfaction of sticking around to watch.

You just huff, crossing your arms and stomping out with even more fury than you came.

Your drive home is full of frustration that grows to rage. You grumble under your breath over the hum of the radio, cursing Steve Harrington’s name at every red light, every sharp turn. It’s only when you pull up to your apartment and park that you realize what’s even playing through the car’s speakers.

It’s WAMC - what else would you have on? You always have your radio tuned to 98.9, doing your best to listen to your friends and support the station you hold so dearly. But, of course, the person on the air right now is him.

You had taken a personal vow a while ago to not tune into Steve’s show. You know it’s stupid - one listener doesn’t make a difference, and you know Steve Harrington certainly doesn't have trouble sleeping at night knowing that you don’t listen to whatever crappy music he plays over the air. But, he’s driving you crazy - he’s so arrogant, so smug, and everyone else eats it up. Nobody dislikes Steve Harrington… it seems like everyone on campus who knows Steve either is in love with him, or wants to be him. You’ll never understand the hold he has over people.

But, maybe you should try to - it’s only fair to get a sense of what all the fuss is about, you reason. So, you turn up the volume dial, letting the music flow through the stereo and over the din of your still-running engine.

It’s about what you expect - mostly Top 40 hits, some classic rock sprinkled in. It’s not bad, necessarily - just, like nearly any other station you could tune your radio to. It’s not a hard and fast rule to play lesser-known music - it’s just encouraged. But, everyone tunes into Steve’s show, ask him for advice on how to plan a slot… it makes your blood boil.

You tell yourself that you’re only going to listen for a few minutes. When Steve’s voice comes on the air, you roll your eyes - he’s cracking jokes, giving anecdotes about the songs, and unfortunately, he’s nearly charming. You don’t realize a full hour has passed until he signs off. You quickly kill your engine and dart into your apartment, doing your best to try not to dwell on the slight disappointment in the show being over.

Double-booking your radio slot was only the most recent of a string of things Steve had been doing to piss you off - showing up late to meetings (if he even shows up at all), calling out of his radio show, making snide remarks under his breath at the meetings he does show up to… you’re basically doing two jobs at once. Any false promise of civility between you two is a thing of the past. He’s making your life a living Hell - but, you’re not one to back down. Two can play dirty, after all.

******

October

You and Steve spend the next few weeks doing a delicate dance, going back and forth not-so-subtly sabotaging one another. His band tried to book a gig at the local venue, which you conveniently “forgot” to sign off on. He tells incoming freshmen that they don’t need to go through you when applying to be a DJ, causing an enrollment nightmare. You pay Jonathan Byers $20 for the equipment to “break,” only for the two hours that Steve is scheduled to do his radio show. But, throughout it all, you barely actually see one another. It’s nearly a month later that you actually encounter him again.

The moment you set foot in the vinyl library, you groan. He looks up from where he’s perusing the records on the shelves, grinning as soon as he locks eyes with you.

“Fancy seeing you here, sweetheart.”

Fuck off, you think.

“Hey, Harrington,” you say, exhibiting what you consider to be an exorbitant amount of restraint. After your blowup last time, the last thing you need is to continue to give him the satisfaction of having the upper hand.

You march straight ahead, going right to the shelf next to him. You pointedly stare forward, running your fingers along the spines of the albums, pulling out the ones you’re looking for as you find them.

You hear Steve scoff next to you, and you roll your eyes - practically an involuntary response with him at this point.

“Do you have a problem?” you asked, your tone biting.

He just shrugs. “No. You’re just… predictable.”

“How so?”

“If you asked me to come in here, and pick out the records for your radio show for you… it’d just be too easy. Let me guess… The Smiths… Talking Heads… R.E.M…Sonic Youth…and some European band whose name I can’t pronounce, probably. Am I close?”

You clutched the records close to your chest, arms crossing to obscure them.

Steve just grins smugly.

You hold your place, not breaking eye contact. He simply shrugs, tongue pushed to the inside of his cheek to stop himself from laughing.

Pleased with himself. Too cocky. A challenge.

“That’s what I thought.”

You straightened up, keeping eye contact.

“You act as if you’re any better, with your Worst 40 bullshit -”

“You only pretend to not like it to be different -”

“I don’t pretend to not like your music! I’m just trying to make us sound different from any other station people tune into -”

“So you do listen to my show?” he asks. He’s still wearing that shit-eating grin, but for just a moment, you swear he sounds surprised.

You open and close your mouth a few times, debating what to say. You’ve been caught. And he’s just staring at you, so blatantly self-satisfied, that you want to punch him.

“Shut up,” you say quietly.

“You gonna make me?” he asks.

You feel your face heat. The vinyl library is too cramped, its narrow walls making Steve stand just a bit too close to you. You swallow, straightening up a bit. He’s blocking the only exit, a habit he seems to reserve especially for you.

“Can you let me leave, Harrington? Or do I have to answer a riddle or something first?”

“I’m having a party on Friday,” he blurts out. “You should stop by. Everyone else from the station is coming.”

You shake your head.

“Um - I don’t think -”

“C’mon, sweetheart - show me that you know how to have a little fun!”

You shrug.

“Maybe. Whatever, I’ll see.”

He grins. “Okay - 36 Hamilton Street, by the way. Friday night, 10pm.”

Then he’s gone, leaving you alone in the darkness of the record library. You try to ignore how fast your heart is beating in his wake.

Fucking Steve Harrington.

author's note: Hi everyone! Here's the first part of a brand new fic - ta da! In general, I think the plan for this fic is to have shorter chapters, but more total chapters, so the word count will be... whatever it ends up being. Keep in mind that there will be smut down the line, so only engage is 18+, please. Likes, replies, and reblogs are always appreciated! Also, this was barely edited, so if you see a mistake... no you didn't.

#steve harrington #steve x reader #steve harrington smut #steve harrington/fem!reader #steve harrington/reader #steve harrington/you #steve harrington fanfic #enemies to lovers #steve harrington enemies to lovers #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington x reader smut #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington/reader smut #steve harrington x you #put on your records fic

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curiositydooropened · 9 months

Text

Wildfire • Masterlist

When Hawkins opened up and slowly slipped into the Ether, you were there on the front lines. Now, nearly two years later, after the tragic loss of your best friend, you're left without a partner and a rage building inside you like a wildfire. When you're given the option to retire or partner with your rival, Steve Harrington, you struggle to put aside your differences for the sake of the world.

Pairing: Steve Harrington x Reader

Wordcount: 68, 504

Warnings: enemies/rivals to lovers, second chance romance, slooooowburn, unrequited love, so much pining, blood, gore, character death, best friend!disabled!Eddie Munson, character injuries, trauma, PTSD, lots of fire, Upside Down monsters and the like, drowning, weapons, murder, eventual smut, more warnings to be added as fic progresses. *See individual chapters for warnings.

Navigation • Masterlist

---

Moodboard • Teaser • WIP Wednesday

Chapter One - Ember

Chapter Two - Spark

Chapter Three - Ignite

Chapter Four - Pyre

Chapter Five - Searing.

Chapter Six - Combustion

Chapter Seven - Inferno

#wildfire fic #steve harrington fic #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington angst #steve harrington smut #steve harrington slowburn #steve harrington enemies to lovers

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elioslover · 11 months

Text

Employee of the Month

EMPLOYEE OF THE MONTH [Inside] - Steve Harrington x reader

PREMISE: Steve and Robin find themselves the newest employees of Family Video- a place you are well acquainted with. With a strange history and a chance to win employee of the month at stake, your Summer is turning out to be more than you bargained for. [enemies to lovers.]

WARNINGS: n/a. (use of Y/n).

WORD COUNT: 2.3k

🎞️🎞️🎞️

Standing behind the counter, Steve took in his new surroundings, getting familiar with the space he would now regularly occupy for four of seven days for the unforeseeable future.

His eyes darting, sometimes stopping to skim over the spines of video boxes, big, bold titles of films he hadn't even heard of.

He couldn't help his curiosity from reaching out for a nearby stack of boxes, his fingers tracing along the outline of Citizen Kane.

But even with the lightest of touches, Steve stumbles back in fright just as the stacked boxes start tumbling like Jenga, scattering across the floor with a startling smack.

Robin looks over, eyes wide, her hand instinctively reaching out to swat Steve's bicep,

"We've been here for five minutes, Steve."

"It was an accident!" his palms raised in surrender,

"If you get me fired, I swear-"

"I'm not gonna get you fired, Robin." Steve sighed reassuringly,

"Oh, please. Everyone knows we're a package deal." Robin almost scoffs.

Steve geared up for a comeback, sentence still half formulated, none-the-wiser of your sudden presence as you timidly peered out from behind his towering figure, instantly catching Robin's attention.

"Hi!" you waved shyly, and Steve turned on his heels so fast his sneakers surely sparked the ground beneath him.

"Hey, you must be Y/n!" Robin greeted, and you embraced her energetic enthusiasm with ease,

"Yeah! Robin, right?"

"That's me!" she nodded, as an afterthought, gestured toward a still-startled Steve,

"And that's Steve. He's clumsy but decent enough."

You glanced his way, shy with familiarity, only giving him a moment of your time and a tight-lipped smile. Knowing it would only be so long before he remembered you, if he even did, you avoided eye contact- and that had nothing to do with the fact that you were more than aware of his pretty, pretty brown eyes.

"Hi Steve." you waved gently,

"I'm not clumsy!" the words tumble out, his cheeks flushed, scanning your face for approval.

But Steve was met with only furrowed brows, your familiar eyes disappearing beneath swooping lashes,

"I'll take your word for it." you nodded.

"Ignore him. I promise we are not a package deal," Robin reassured nonchalantly, sending him a wink.

Steve released the breath he hadn't known was trapped in his chest with such relief when any chances of further embarrassment were dismissed by the heroic timing of Murrary- known locally as the chaotic, moody, and far too nosey manager of Family Video- trudging through the front door, a melodic bell announcing his arrival.

He took his time reaching the front desk, barely acknowledging the new duo as he addressed you,

"Y/n, I see you've had the pleasure of meeting Robin and Steve." you nodded meekly.

Murray hastily glances over at Steve and Robin, "I'll give you each a schedule later." leaving no gap for a retort,

"In the meantime, Y/n will designate jobs. I'll be in my office, not being disturbed... don't fuck anything up." his eyes narrowed at Steve.

"Why are you looking at me?" Steve protested with a whine. But it's Monday, and Murray is in no mood as he walks off, entering an office off to the side, the door swinging shut behind him.

The three of you are left looking like headlighted deers, shifting on your heels and clearing your throat- it was so soft and subtle, but Steve looked at you with such haste you could easily be fooled into thinking he was paying you far too much attention.

"Okay. So... I guess I'll give you a rundown of the store?" You suggest, and Robin cheers like she was just offered free food for life, grinning at Steve as they follow you away from the front desk and deeper into the store.

Your heart thudding in synch with Steve's, unsure if anxiety or excitement is threatening to stir, but you brush it off and halt in front of the storage room, stepping aside to give the duo a good look at their new home away from home.

"Here's the back room... We store the really old or newly unboxed movies here. Mostly the room is used for taking breaks. Oh, but we have to do inventory at least once a day." you informed.

The newbies took a moment to look over the space. Steve spots a navy beanbag and decides he can definitely get used to this. Robin's eyes light up, suddenly rushes further into the room,

"What's that?" her heart swells as she points animatedly at a whiteboard hanging haphazardly against the faded walls.

The board has seen better days, smudged marker almost making it impossible to spot the words 'Wins' and 'Losses' scrawled across the top.

"Oh. I made it for the last guy who worked here, Brad. Total shitshow. And I enjoyed taking note of that." you hummed with fondness.

"No way." Robin felt lightheaded, body rushing with more excitement than she could handle- and definitely more than she had felt this past year.

"What?" Your head tilted innocently,

"I had one exactly like this for Steve back at Scoops!" Robin couldn't help it when her feet began bouncing, arms flailing around joyously.

"You're kidding!" you were sure you had just met your soulmate, meeting her enthusiasm with extra. Steve, caught by pleasant surprise, felt an ache in his arm as Robin dug her nails into him.

He sent her a warning glare, but even after letting him go, Steve still felt lightheaded, eyes darting between you and Robin with newfound terror. Tremendously overwhelmed, sensory overload swallowing him entirely as your glee only seemed to be escalating,

"I think I just made a new best friend." Robin announced.

Relief washed over you with reassurance that your new co-workers wouldn't be all that bad- well, Steve was yet to be confirmed. Speaking of Steve, your eyes met his for just a moment,

"Sorry to steal that title from you." you offered offhandedly.

"You kidding? I'm relieved!" he teased, never acknowledging Robin, focus solely on sending waves of friendship your way.

"Shut up. You love me." Robin reminds.

"But you make it so hard." he huffs.

🎞

Hardly an hour into their first shift, Steve's head- though seemingly screwed on and held in place by excessive hairspray- was clearly miles away.

And it definitely didn't go unnoticed because it was the same look he used to get during your last periods of the school day. It annoyed you then, and it definitely annoys you now.

Pausing mid-sentence, you watched him through slanted lids, frustration tingling the tips of your ears and palms threatening to itch,

"Harrington." you snapped your fingers near his face,

"Did you hear me?"

"Huh?" Steve blinked back to attention, though the dazed look in his eyes never strayed.

"Were you paying any attention at all?" you exhaled a whiny huff.

"I was!" Steve really does like the little frown that creases at your brows, indulging as it only increases.

"What did I just say?" you waited, lip tugged between your teeth, and Steve is still hardly paying attention,

"Uh-" he stutters.

"She said you need to select the customer profile before logging in the code for the video. Then you need to check if they have store credit, and after that, you need to put the cover for the video in that pile over there." Robin recited with ease, her focus still on flipping through a misplaced comic book.

"Thank you, Robin." you rewarded, eyes never leaving the spot occupied by Steve.

"Yes, thank you, Robin." he hissed through gritted teeth.

"So, the next thing you need to do is..."

Like a schoolteacher, you paused expectantly, and Steve, head bowed like your scolded student, pulled himself together and offered up a gentle reply,

"Replace this box with the other box."

"Exactly." Satisfied, you tapped his shoulder, cueing him to get up from the stool. Steve stiffened under your touch, the waves of your sternness washing over him with an unsuspecting flutter of the heart, and it only seemed to increase when you practically forced his palm open and placed the box for The Graduate, pointing toward the aisle of shelves he needed to visit.

"Robin, you said this would be fun." Steve whined, sluggishly sliding off his seat, dragging his heels as he set off to do as told.

"I'm having a great time!" Robin called over his shoulder, tilting her head to send you a sweet smile.

"Is he always this difficult?" you turned to her fully, willing your bubbling frustrations to simmer down.

"Usually he's just disinterested," Robin attempted to reassure but was clearly clueless to the storm brewing just under the surface.

"Well, that's just great," your hands found your face, cradling the nightmare that refused to end, eyes scrunched shut, elbows balancing you against the countertop.

"Getting on your nerves already, huh?" she teased.

"Is it that noticeable?" you muttered through the spaces of your fingers.

Robin stood up and made her way over to your slumped figure,

"Just a smidge." she poked at you playfully.

Your Summer was quickly turning sour. What was supposed to be easy money and plenty of days by the pool was tumbling away, replaced with unrest and the resurfacing of uncertain feelings from your formative years.

The threat of Steve taking over your space- just like he had in high school, ignorantly bumping his hip into your desk, day after day, ignoring your disappointed sighs. But unlike in high school, you feared he would bother you in ways far more blood-boiling.

"He hasn't changed at all," you muttered, seething.

"Hasn't changed?" Robin pondered, standing upright just as you decided to do the same, conspiracy in the air. Suddenly, your eyes widen with mirth and a hint of mischief, only furthering her confusion. You rubbed your scheming hands together, your brain sent into a spiral of brilliance,

"I have an idea."

With not a word more, you leave Robin befuddled, turning on your heels and heading for the backroom.

Robin stays put until she's sure you aren't making a return, and then she's hot on your heels,

"Wait up!"

Excitement coursing, Robin catches up just in time to watch as you grab an old red marker, using your shirt sleeve to remove Brad, writing 'Steve' in its place.

Stepping back to admire your work, bold and capitalized 'Harrington' staring back at you, begging for his screw-ups to rack up. Adding a squiggly separation line as an afterthought, you admired your work one last time, arms folding atop your chest.

"There. Fixed it."

"I love it." Robin cooed with approval.

"I'm brilliant."

"A genius." she commended.

The two of you stood in your bubble of admiration, so much so that neither of you noticed the arrival of Steve, stepping into the room with confusion- it had taken him a good minute to even find you.

Peering over your heads to get a glimpse at what seemed so interesting,

"What are you two on abou- are you kidding?" this was a new low for Steve.

First days were never great, but this was record-breaking bad. And when you turned to him, a cheeky smile still curving at your lips, Steve felt his bones might melt right off.

"The opposite," you informed.

"I haven't been here half a day, and you guys are already ganging up on me?"

"I mean, it was bound to happen, Steve." Robin teased.

"It's only fair." you shrugged, smile fading for good.

Steve was clearly confused now, brows cocked, shoulders stiffening. He could feel both of your eyes on him now,

"How's that?"

"You and your friends ganged up on everyone at school." you recited like it was something everyone already knew everything about.

"I-" Steve stuttered out,

"Hopefully you have thicker skin."

Steve said nothing- didn't know where the fuck to even begin as quick flashes of himself, strutting the hallways, blurred his vision, desperately trying to place the image of you within all of the chaos that was his high school experience.

But you're looking at him expectantly- or perhaps, just plain hostility- and it's only hyping Steve's unease.

Robin has whiplash, focus dashing between you and Steve, and if nobody was willing to speak up, she certainly would. Unfortunately- for Robin- Murray's voice booms through the closed door, the muffled sound of "Y/n!" seeking your assistance.

"You guys can head to the front counter. I'll be there in a sec." you sighed with relief, giving Steve a brief glance before leaving, head thumping in step with your sneakers.

"Holy shit." Robin, her mouth ajar, pranced over to join a puzzled Steve.

"I know. What the fuck was-"

"She is so cool!" she fawned.

"What?" he almost chokes.

"Why didn't you tell me you knew each other?" Robin chides as they make their way to the store's front.

"Because we don't." Steve defends.

"Another casualty of the romancer formerly known as King Steve?"

"Of course not."

Steve picks up the pace, trying to get at least a few feet away from Robin's newfound source of a summer scandal.

But she won't stop- and they both know it.

"Oh, please."

"I'm serious!" he comes to a halt, collecting whatever strength remains to convince Robin otherwise.

"You didn't try? Like, not even once?" Robin probably wouldn't believe him anyhow.

Steve could hardly care as he dropped back down onto the nearby stool, palms clenched, head hanging low,

"She wouldn't have given me the time of day."

Summer was starting to look like it might be far more interesting than expected. Guaranteed, this was less than thrilling for both Steve and yourself.

But for Robin, well, she couldn't help her giddiness from spreading throughout town, sighing with such content,

"I am going to love working here."

🎞️🎞️🎞️

[Hi lovelies! This is my first time posting anything about Steve. I've been working on this series for ages, and I've decided to make some chapters about their work shifts and some about moments out in town. Would you guys be interested in this format, with an update each week? I'd love to know what you think!! xox]

#steve harrington #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington fic #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington oneshot #steve harrington blurbs #steve harrington x reader fluff #steve harrington enemies to lovers

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corrodedseraphine · 1 year

Text

perfectly wrong | masterlist

pairing: steve harrington x fem!reader

summary: After the "earthquake," Hawkins residents who could, ran as far away from the cursed town as possible. Those who stayed are making a concerted effort to rebuild it. Thus, Steve was offered an accelerated course to become a nurse. One day while observing one of the examinations he comes across a very familiar patient - you. Your acquaintance had some good moments however, most of the time it was nothing but misunderstandings and ice-cold glances directed at each other. On that day, Steve finds out about a part of your life that you wanted to keep hidden for as long as possible. Fate, unfortunately, definitely has a different opinion on the matter. fluff/a lot of angst, enemies to lovers

TW: mentions of: pregnancy, domestic violence, blood, bleeding out, wounds and bruises, accidents, abortion, suicide, death, misscarige, strong medicine use [I will add more during the process]

this story is not finished and has 12 717 words for now.

chapters:

#1 I wish you hadn't saved me

#2 I wish I hadn't saved you

#3 moments of weakness

#4 I am afraid to trust you

#5 you are not alone [soon]

#6 ???

The story is also avaliable on ao3

steve harrington masterlist | general masterlist

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lavendermunson · 8 months

Text

we were built to fall apart – king!steve harrington x fem!reader

୨ৎ ˙ ˖

summary You two are better know as the captains of the basketball teams, this year only one team can keep the crown while the other has to back down. You hate Steve. Steve hates you. But in some weird way something is pulling you to each other.

tags no warnings for this one. angst. enemies to lovers. season 1 steve. king!steve. both are mean but not too much. no upside down. steve harrington x nancy wheeler (for now). platonic!reader x jonathan byers. no use of y/n.

w.c 3.3k

moodboard | next part

When you arrived at Hawkins High you never expected to be the one to change the rules. Your old school had a basketball team for girls, Hawkins didn’t, it was the only town that was missing this. But with the help of a lot of interested girls, you convinced the principal to give you an opportunity and he did. When the school realized the girls’ team was better, they ignored the boys, and that hurt King Steve’s ego. He wants the attention back, even if it means he has to bring you down for it, maybe start a plan to sabotage.

—

“Hey! you look like hell,” Jonathan says as he joins you at the parking lot, he hands over a cup of coffee and laughs at your disgusted expression.

“I know, fuck! Harrington had one of his parties again and the music was so loud” You take the cup after murmuring a thank you.

“Your aunt didn’t say anything?”

“No, she’s going to the lake with her fancy boyfriend… You know how it is”

Jonathan opens the door for you since your hands are busy, one carrying the cup and the other one holding your basketball ball.

“Wow, so now it’s serious? She’s in a relationship and I lost my opportunity?” he laughs at his joke as you hit his arm playfully. You shake your head at the thought of Jonathan being with your aunt and giggle with him until you see a familiar face.

“Hey guys!” Nancy Wheeler, better known as Jonathan’s crush “I was wondering if you are still down to make the English project together” she talks to Jonathan as he smiles like a fool.

“Yeah, of course… I’ll be there I promise”

She nods, giving you and your best friend a kind smile, and walks away to find her boyfriend.

“So… I'm assuming I have to babysit Will?” you ask.

“Please, please” he chants, glancing at you with pleading eyes.

“Alright, I'll just have to take him with me to practice”

You always love the idea of spending time with Will, he was your favorite kid from the party.

“And it’s D&D night so you don’t mind…”

“I don’t, it’s always fun to play with them”

Since you met Jonathan in elementary school, you grew up attached by the hip to him and his little brother. When Will found friends to play D&D with, he begged you to play with them since you were the first one to teach him about this game with Jonathan’s help.

The bell rang making you jump, Jonathan joined you in class and you both sat up for a long and boring chemistry class.

—

At the end of the school day you meet with Will, explaining you had to babysit him for today while Jonathan finished his project. Will wasn’t excited to sit on the bleachers for two hours but he was thankful for not forgetting his sketchbook and colored pencils at home.

“You know the rules, don’t go away, and if you need anything tell me. I don’t mind you interrupting, 'kay?”

The little boy nods, he fully understands that practice means so much to you and you are well aware that a little kid like him can get bored of just sitting down.

“Time goes by fast, don’t worry about it,” he says, as you open the door and see the boys' basketball team instead of your own.

“Are you sure it’s your day to practice?” Will asks, looking at your face. A frown was already present.

“I- I am, someone wants all the attention back” you immediately point at Steve.

“What the fuck?” one of your teammates joins you at the door, she mirrors the expression on your face.

“Language!” Will screams, laughing it off and running to sit down on the bleachers. He was getting impatient while standing up.

You watch as the little kid runs, and when he’s safe in his seat your eyes land on the boys' team especially looking for Steve Harrington.

“No… no, leave it!” your teammate tries to hold you but it’s too late.

You walk over to Steve, dropping your backpack and your ball as you get closer to him. A groan leaves out of Steve’s mouth as he watches you come closer, he holds the ball around his arm and against his hip with a grin on his face.

“Are you stupid?” you ask him, he keeps his grin intact.

“Did the coach forget to tell his little loser that schedules changed? don’t look at me like that, it's not my fault!” he says.

Anger takes over your body, making your vision blurry and red. You get closer to Steve to try and intimidate him but he towers over you. The coach you both share runs towards you and tries to stop a war that is only beginning.

“I am sorry, I wanted to speak to you two… my office”

You look at him and then look at Steve who is looking at you with disgust. Both of you walk over to the coach's office and sit down in the chairs in front of his desk, you move yours to one side to be as far away from Steve as possible.

“Captains, here’s the deal” coach starts to speak, you try to ignore Steve’s presence and he does too “As you may know regionals are starting soon but I'm afraid to tell you I can only send one team out there because the school has no funds to get both of the teams to those competitions”

“And?” Steve asks.

“I’m taking the girls,” the coach says.

You stay in your seat smiling, giving the coach a thankful nod and watching Steve lose his mind at the news.

“What?” he gets up from his chair “This is not fair, we are better!”

“Better at losing,” you say, chuckling as he glares at you. You catch his lip quiver and he storms out of the office.

“Please go talk to him” the coach speaks to you, you raise an eyebrow confused.

“Me? Why me?” you ask.

“Yes, you are classmates and you need to learn how to take care of each other” Coach shrugs as he takes his sandwich out of a drawer, clearly he wants you to talk to Steve instead of missing lunch.

You run after Steve following the coach's orders, knowing that if you don’t do as he says he might change his choice of taking your team.

“Harrington!” you see Steve behind the gym, he has his hands on his knees trying to catch his breath.

“What do you want? you have everything you need now Go away”

“I- I just wanted to… listen, he knows what he’s doing so… I don’t know… you’ll get it next time” You feel a little bit of pity for him, but you know you shouldn’t since he and his friends are always rude to you.

“There is no next time, you don’t get it” he shakes his head, and a look of disappointment rests on his face “We worked hard for this since we started and you came in late and ruined everything”

You can’t believe what he says. A part of you tried to be kind to him for once but now it’s too late.

“Maybe if you weren’t such a dick, maybe you’ll be better at basketball” you try to get back at him “It’s not my fucking fault your team- ”

He stands up, towering over you again, something he loves to do knowing it gets you on your nerves. He takes steps closer to you and your back hits the wall.

“Finish”

“What?”

“Finish. Your. Sentence” he punctuates his words with each step, getting closer to you. You feel his breath on your cheek and they go red… of anger. Yes because you can’t be enjoying this, can you?

You part your lips to speak but a voice interrupts you, it is Diana, one of your best friends and teammates.

“Hey!” Steve jumps away from you and runs away, Diana runs to you as you don’t move.

“Are you okay? Did he hurt you or something?” she asks, worried.

You knew Steve was never capable of that, he could be the most annoying person on this planet but he would never hurt anyone physically… because you wouldn’t do it to him as much as you wanted to.

“No, no” you shake your head, coming back to reality “He just- he’s just mad and being an asshole as always”

“Okay, we are warming up and you need to join us… the gym is free for us and Will is asking about you”

—

Steve left to take a shower, after being so tense and angry about the coach ignoring all the time and effort he put into his team. Now he had to go home and tell his dad that he wouldn’t be playing basketball anymore and that career option was not an option anymore. He knew the A-grade-asshole was going to be disappointed, his mom too.

Because for Steve, his life is a full path of lost battles and he is pretty sure he can never have anything good. The only thing his parents were proud of was his girlfriend, who had lately stopped paying attention to him for this so-called ‘English project’ with a person who was considered to be one of the freaks at school, Jonathan Byers.

Steve didn’t even know if he loved Nancy because he never felt different… but of course, he loved her. She is a good girl, his parents love her. Her parents are great, they are respected by his own and it was important to Steve to not fuck up this one good thing that he had.

He didn’t expect his evening to be so boring until Nancy called, he waited for her call all day long after not spending enough time with her because of the project.

“Steve? My mom is asking if you want to join us for dinner. I’ll get there late but you can go ahead and help her, please” his girlfriend asks, Steve smiles at the invitation and accepts it right away. After a bunch of “yes” “I would love to” and “I'm on my way,” he got in his car, noticing yours wasn’t on the front porch.

For both of you, it was a nightmare even looking at each other at school, it was worse when you had to see each other because you were neighbors. Just like that universe can’t keep him away from you.

He drives as fast as he can and gets to the Wheeler’s in record time. After greeting the whole family and helping get the casseroles on the table, Mrs. Wheeler screams to Mike that the pizza is ready. Mike and the kids are currently in the middle of an important and tense campaign, with you.

“This kid… he plays nonstop. I don't think he has even showered today!” Mrs. Wheeler rubs her fingers against her frown, smoothing it out and taking a deep breath.

“I can go down there and give them the pizza if you want” Steve offers, Mrs. Wheeler’s eyes light up at his kindness and he takes the boxes of pizza. He walks over to the basement door and knocks.

“It’s my turn to roll!” Lucas screams.

“I need to see you’re not- ” Dustin screams again, but he is interrupted by a knock.

“Oh Ranger, would you be so kind and to open the door for us?” Mike, the DM, looks at you and you nod getting up from your seat. The screams come back as soon as you take the steps and open the door, not liking what’s waiting for you on the other side.

“You?” Steve and you say at the same time, both with a confused look on your face.

“Are you following me?” you ask.

“Are you ever going to leave me alone, why are you everywhere?” he asks, annoyed.

“Just give me that and disappear from my sight!” You take the boxes of pizza off his hands and he sighs in relief.

“You wish I was following you”

“I wish I could never see you again” You close the door on his face and get back down with the party, giving each of them a slice of pizza before taking your own. The campaign continues as the boys finish eating and clean their hands with napkins to keep the game away from the greasy food.

Upstairs, Nancy and Jonathan arrive and Steve runs to the door. He didn’t expect to see you here, he didn’t expect to see Jonathan either. He rolls his eyes and hugs his girlfriend, kissing her in front of her friend.

“I’ll go see my brother” Jonathan whispers, Nancy pushes Steve away and nods to her friend. Jonathan goes downstairs and as the party cheers for him, Steve takes Nancy to the dinner table.

“Why is Byers and… his little sidekick here?”

“Oh, you mean…? She plays D&D with the kids very often” she says, turning away “Why?”

“Nothing just… she ruined my life today because her little team of losers are going to the competitions instead of us” he scuffs, trying to keep her eyes on Nancy but he glares at the basement door, trying to forget he saw you again.

“Oh my god! that’s wonderful I love how they play” She looks at her boyfriend and the anger on his face is clear “But you will get it next time, I’m sure of it”

There is no next time, why is everyone telling him that? Steve tries to kiss Nancy as if it’s going to help bring his anger from level 10 to level 1, instead, she turns her head away taking the casserole to have some dinner.

Lucas talks to you about basketball, Steve can hear some of your conversation. Something along the lines of ‘yeah, I’ll be practicing tomorrow’ and ‘I’ll practice alone if that’s what they want’ He keeps his thoughts to himself, looking around the table.

Everyone enjoys all the food Mrs. Wheeler cooks for them. The kids start eating at some point and the house fills with silence. This is the first time Steve and you share some time without bickering with each other.

—

Decisions have been made. You needed to start practicing, even more than last month, so much more.

“Agh” the ball falls out of your hands. You chase it down until you stop at the sight of a body. Steve.

“Oh no, what is it this time? Did you rent the gym for one day and now I can't be here?”

“What? No” he says “I want to help you. You know, you need a partner to practice your moves”

You shake your head, he is right.

“So I thought maybe I could help you-“

“I don’t need help,” you interrupt.

“Yeah, alright. No help, uhm… I'll give you a hand?”

“That sounds worse” You roll your eyes at him then look at his face “Fine, let’s get this over with”

—

Practicing with Steve was stated as a nightmare. You are narrowly better at him, your moves are faster and less predictable. He is messy, and sometimes too slow.

Your bodies keep brushing with each other.

First, it was his arm with yours, after he swung an arm in front of you to steal the ball. He succeeded. You shivered.

The second time you touched his leg after stealing the ball back. Your fingertips graze his hairy leg. He shivered too.

The third time he was behind you, blocking you from getting to the other side of the court. His hands come from each side of your body, his back is pressed slightly against you. You let out a quick sigh, keeping your hands on the ball and focusing on what you are doing. The room starts to feel warmer, you don’t know if it’s tiredness or something else.

You turn around pressing your chest against him, bumping your chest against him. The ball comes out of your hands, flying towards the bleachers. It was like slow motion when Steve lost balance and wrapped his hand around your waist to get a hold of himself but instead, you fell with him.

You were on the floor. You were on top of him. Jolts of electricity flying around your body as you lock your eyes with his, his gaze is soft on yours, something that's never happened before.

His breath is mixing with yours, you catch the smell of his cologne blended with his deodorant and something else you can't get a hold of. This can’t be happening, you can’t be this excited to be close to him.

He looks at you and gently places a strand of your hair back in its place. Fingers grazing your cheek and the back of your ear. His mouth is slightly open and so it’s yours.

It’s confusing, How is he making you this nervous when you hate his guts?

You stand up quickly. Chasing the ball and taking it under your arm. Steve stands up too shaking his head.

“I- I think we are both tired so if you don’t mind we can wrap up for today,” you say.

After a while, practice takes most of the time of your day. Both of you are exhausted but it was a nice chance to get better without interrupting your teammates afternoons who clearly said ‘We are okay with three days of practice.

“Sure, do you… Do you need a ride home?” Steve asks, his voice sounds lower as he takes a deep breath.

“Yeah, yeah sure just let me call Jonathan”

He nods. You both begin to stroll away from the gym, heading towards the parking lot. A fresh wave of air hits your forehead that was previously sticky and sweaty, you take a breath and get to the nearest phone at school.

“Hey, so I don’t need a ride anymore I'm… I’m gonna go home with Steve”

“With? Steve?” Jonathan gasps, exaggerating unnecessarily. “Why is Steve there?”

“He- he came by to train with me and we sort of lost track of time. You know I’ve been training daily”

“I'm well aware. Surprised he is still alive even”

“Don’t be dramatic, he was nice for once and it’s helping me if I want to win” Your fingers start to tangle on the phone cord, playing with it to ease your mind “I’ll see you tomorrow, tell Will I said hi”

“Tomorrow. I will when I get home”

“Where are you?” you ask.

“I’m i- I’m at Nancy’s”

“At Nancy’s?” your voice sounds louder than intended.

“Shhh shut up, Steve is going to hear you and he is going to run here and interrupt. We are finishing our project, don’t start-“

“Are you going to make out?”

“No, dude. We are not going to— she… listen carefully and don’t say a word” he whispers “We kind of… kissed. She kissed me. I followed”

“OH MY GOD” a very quiet ‘shhh’ comes from the other side of the line as you scream.

“Don’t tell!”

“I won’t! but doesn’t that count as cheating?”

“I don’t know, I was just caught up in the moment I haven’t thought about that sort of thing”

“Well, she kissed you first. It’s not like you are responsible for this… maybe a little bit but don’t be scared” You sigh, this turned out to be more complicated than fun “Listen, I gotta go We’ll talk tomorrow”

“K, don’t kill Steve!”

“Don’t make me promise something I might end up doing. Bye”

You hang up the phone, run to Steve’s car, and get in so both can get home. The ride home isn’t long, it takes about 15 minutes of uncomfortable silence and the old songs on the radio to make you sleepy.

After saying thank you and goodbye to Steve, you go into your house and plop on the couch Reflecting on everything that has occurred in the past few hours. What is changing in you?

REBLOG TO SUPPORT THE AUTHOR. welcome to my new series and stay tuned for the next chapter. you can join the tag list by commenting under this post. shout of to my friend Diana for helping me with this one after watching ‘she's the man’ and ranting about it. feedback is appreciated 🥰

#leia writes ⊹ ꒱#steve harrington x fem!reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x female!reader #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington x fem #steve harrington enemies to lovers #steve harrington angst #king!steve harrington

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rancidpancakebatter · 1 year

Text

A Breath of Kool Air

Pairings: Steve Harrington x Black! Female! Sinclair! Reader

Summary: You've always been a little closed off, kept to yourself. But after the events of July 4th 1985, you're not sure that you're content being alone anymore. While you would never trust Harrington before, you discover Steve isn't so bad.

Enemies to lovers if you squint

Word Count: 6.7k words

Content Warnings: Smoking, swearing, bullying, racism,

( Masterlist )

A/N: This has some angst in it so I waited until March to post it. Also, the reader is very "I hate everyone except you" and I love it. This fic is very self-indulgent and my love song to Kools Menthols.

You tend to rub people the wrong way. You were loud-spoken and hardly shy. Your brain and mouth were attached by a thin cable, information swimming freely between the two. You weren’t exactly the “softest” person by any means. You had a thick shell and very few ever saw what was underneath it. Growing up in Hawkins, it was a necessity.

You learned this lesson very young, at the age of six. You were at the park with your mother. You had been on the swings when you heard laughter behind you. A group of boys were snickering and trying very hard not to garner any attention.

They shushed each other as you looked at them. You continued to pump your legs, deciding they were no threat to you. Their snickers remained heard, but you paid them no mind. Until you felt something bounce off your head. It was small and light.

You turned to see mulch fall to the ground. You looked back at the boys, and this time a piece struck you in the face, right in the eye. It stung, and tears quickly filled your vision, and your hand shot up to cover it.

They all rolled around in laughter, and you hopped off the swing. As you did, more mulch fell from your hair. You realized then that they had been laughing at you the whole time. Pieces of mulch wrapped in your curls, buried in your ‘fro. They had been throwing dirty, dried wood into your pretty hair.

“Hey!”

You looked less than ferocious, dripping in rainbows and corduroy.

“You leave me alone! That wasn’t nice! You hit my eye and ruined my hair!”

The boys only laughed harder. Your hands were firmly set on your hips, something you had learned from your mother.

“Now, say you're sorry!”

If you thought they were laughing before, they were howling now. They tripped over themselves, clutching on shoulders as they folded in half. You watched as they twisted their faces, mimicking you before falling back into fits of laughter.

You were growing annoyed. You couldn’t understand what was so funny.

“Hey! Say you’re sorry!”

One of the boys stood tall, scoffing as he stepped toward you.

Age was very hard for you to guess at this age. It was a concept you only partially grasped. This kid was bigger than you. You could tell that much. Maybe not in elementary school like you. But not an adult. Small but big, stuck in between.

He leaned down to face you at your level. You leaned away from him, not liking that he was so close. Your nose burned from the heavy smell of spices that failed to cover his natural b.o.

He sneered at you, disdain dripping from his lips. “And what are you gonna do? You gonna make me?”

You opened your mouth to respond, but he pushed you to the ground before you could speak. The palms of your hands were quick to cry out, splintered wood making a new home there. He looked back at his friends, and they continued to laugh.

You grew angry, grabbed a fist full of mulch, and waited for him to look at you again. As soon as you saw his blue eyes, you chucked it with all of your strength. He shouted and sputtered.

“Now, do what I do,” You said, “I’m sorry for throwing mulch in your face. It was unkind. Your turn.”

You felt proud of yourself, thinking you had made your point quite clearly.

In lieu, of an apology, you instead receive a mouth full of mulch. He charged you and pinned you down, his lackeys picking up scoops of mulch and burying your face with it.

They had said many things, but it was hard to hear with your head quite literally buried in the sand. They eventually left, and you quickly scrambled up to find your mother reading a magazine on a bench across the park.

You cried to your mother, and she was able to discern your pitiful whines. She scooped you up in her lap and soothed you. Once your hiccuping stopped, she lifted your head and looked you in the eyes.

“Stop your crying, baby. Don’t let them think they’ve won.”

Her hand worked through your hair as best as it could, trying to get as many pieces out as possible.

“You are beautiful and strong, and some people don’t like that. It makes them feel ugly and weak. And when they feel like that, they gonna try and push you around. They gonna try and make you feel small. Don’t you let them, baby.”

You listened to her words as she dusted you off.

“It’s the only weapon they got. Don’t let it work."

And your mother was right. You encountered many versions of that group of boys. Prissy rich kids who thought your sneakers looked trashy. Girls who told you your features weren’t “pretty”. Teachers who questioned your academic integrity because your writing voice and speaking voice were different.

But you had armed yourself, not allowing them to make you feel small. It fueled you, really. You now got off on proving people wrong by continuing to be you, unaffected by them.

This, of course, gave you quite the reputation. Your mother inadvertently taught you that power is a finite source; it must be stolen to be gained. In your six-year-old little brain, it made sense. You knew the weapons in this war, and you decided to learn them- to improve them. “Go low, go lower,” if you will. And you did, very well.

Your younger brother complained about this constantly.

“Every year, first day of school, they call roll, see my name, and ask if I’m your brother. When I say ‘yeah,’ they start being mean to me!”

You would always roll your eyes.

“They were mean before they met me. I didn’t break ‘em.”

You rubbed his head, and he let out a sigh. “Yeah, but you didn’t fix them either.”

Lucas, however, encouraged your fiery spirit in the mall fight. You were fiercely protective of your siblings. You almost lost your mind when you realized Erica was practically kidnapped by Russians! And then to discover Lucas had been coming head-to-head with this “upsidedown” bullshit for years! Yeah, you about lost your goddamn mind.

You didn’t hesitate to throw any weapon you had at the weird, meaty, creature. All colourful words and flammable projectiles. It wasn’t the Fourth of July firework show you were expecting, but Lucas was right- they were big.

The rest of your summer had gone by without event. It was odd to you. You had never been friends with Nancy, or Jonathan, or Robin, or Steve. But it seemed, now that you’re in on the government secret, you got to be “part of the crew.”

Initially, you refused. They weren’t friendly to you before, so why now? They had their preconceived notions about you, and you had no interest in changing them.

That was until Lucas practically begged you to come to a movie night. It was hosted by the former King Steve, who you had been told had lost his crown in his fall from grace.

Mom said she didn’t want Lucas out late again and would only agree to him going if you were also in attendance. As much as you didn’t want to go, you would have just because he asked. But that didn’t mean you couldn’t watch him beg and collect on his desperate promises.

“I won’t speak to you for a week.”

“I’ll do your dishes for a month.”

“I’ll cover for you for the rest of the summer!”

He continued to ramble out promises, and you grabbed your coat. Your cold facade broke when you looked back at him. He had grown into his face more, the baby fat falling away, but he still tried to use his adolescent charm. His bottom lip was jutted out with his folded hands on his chin, and his eyes were big and doe-ed.

You rolled your eyes and threw a jacket at him, “We’re gonna need to talk so we can get out stories straight when you cover for me. But you’ll do my dishes for two months.”

He began to argue, but you shot him a look that shut him up quickly. You felt pride in your ability. That look had gotten you far, and you were glad it still worked.

You didn’t want to admit it to your little brother, but you were feeling quite nervous about this movie night. As you made your way to the Harrington house, your fingers continued to itch towards your breast pocket.

You had picked up smoking, but it was something you tried to keep from Lucas and your family. Everyone else in this group had experienced this upside-down stuff before, but you were new to it. And from your understanding, Robin was new but handling it better than you were.

To be honest, you hated this. You had been so tough just to learn that you knew nothing. All the people you used to judge and roll your eyes at were badasses. Hell! You’ve seen Nancy Wheeler- Queen Priss of Hawkins High- wield a twelve gauge like it was second nature.

And while they just cleaned up their wounds and moved on. You woke up in a cold sweat from nightmares. You jumped when shadows moved around your room. And they were fine.

You let Lucas knock on the door, choosing to hang back behind him. A bright yellow hat and a mop of curls are all you see before your brother is being crushed into a hug. You bight back a smile at their innocent glee. It’s adorable to hear them giggle and cheer.

Dustin shouted over his shoulder to announce Lucas’s presence, and more cheers echoed from behind the door. You imagined your name would not receive as warm of a welcome. You weren’t sure you would be welcomed at all.

“Oh, my sister is here too.” Lucas gave you a timid smile and urged you forward.

Dustin stepped away from the entrance as if he was scared of you. Maybe he was. As you looked around the room, you saw more puzzled faces. Max and El were the only ones who seemed possibly happy to see you.

You noticed it was mostly kids on the couch and looked to your brother confused, “Where’s everyone else?”

You heard a beeping in the kitchen, some scuttling around. Max caught your attention before you could investigate it further, “The adults don’t come to these movie nights. It’s just us kids and Steve.”

She shot a dangerous look towards your brother, “I told your brother to inform you of that; I’m not surprised he left that out. But if you want El and I will share our snacks with you. You’re cool. Not as annoying as these idiots.”

“Not as?” You echoed.

She only shrugged.

You liked Max. She never backed down from you. She didn’t hold the same fear or disdain as others did. But she respected you; she thought you were cool.

You considered her words. You could leave, but you knew Lucas would have to as well. Then there’s the hassle of getting back across town without a car.

You instead pointed to her stash, “I’ll take the Twizzlers.”

She tosses them, and you then to your brother, “And you owe me a heartfelt mixtape, but better than the last one. I wanna shed a tear.”

You could have asked for anything, but you asked for this. This was a way to casually mention in front of his peers and girlfriend (or friend- maybe. She was smiling, so they were probably on good terms.) that Lucas had made you, at least once, a mixtape. And that it was “heartfelt”.

He had neglected to tell you this was a kid hangout and that the only adult there would be Steve Harrington; that was low.

You opened the door to an embarrassing anecdote; that was lower.

Just as you expected, the kids all jumped on your little tease. They started asking about when he made it, how often he’s done it, what was included on the soundtrack, etc. This was an exchange of mild blows, nothing to feel guilty over. You knew, ultimately, Lucas wasn’t upset. You tore into the Twizzlers with a delighted smile before heading into the kitchen for a drink. You noticed a bunch of paper cups but no actual beverages, ergo- kitchen.

As you turned the corner, you saw Harrington. He was facing the microwave, a towel thrown over his shoulder. His hair in the golden light above the stove gave him a halo. He wore a tight blue polo that pulled over his muscles. His jeans didn’t leave much to the imagination. The Levi's hug his ass just right, and if it were anyone else, you might wanna take a bite.

“Oy! Harrington.” He spun around quickly. His eyes trailed over you with furrowed brows before they eventually landed on yours.

“Uh..hi-hey. Hey. What uh…what are you doing here?” You fight the urge to roll your eyes.

“I’m looking for something to drink. Whatcha got?” Harrington clumsily directs you to some two litres on the counter, and you help yourself.

You’ve been sitting tucked into the corner by the recliner and the coffee table for almost an hour now. Your feet are starting to tingle, and it’s getting harder to ignore the trembling in your hands. The source of that is unknown to you, though you have a few prevailing theories.

One is due to the movie you are watching: Terminator. While once, this 1984 instant classic was seen as silly and a bit outrageous to you, now every gunshot that rang through Harrington’s stupid stereo system/tv-set-hybrid that Dustin had helped engineer made you flinch. Explosions that are now contained behind a glass screen did nothing to shield you from the memories of them happening right in front of you.

That wasn’t really something you wanted to admit, which led you to two: You hadn’t had a cigarette in almost six hours. Your hands would get shaky the longer you went without nicotine. You hated seeing the physical manifestation of your addiction, seeing your body cry out for the substance. But then again, it was the perfect excuse to get out of there.

“Where’s your bathroom?”

Harrington pointed down the hallway, and you quickly rose. You hoped it wasn’t too obvious that you wanted to get the hell out of there.

You open a door in the hallway and curse under your breath. As you scan the room, you see there’s no window. This wouldn’t work. You shut the door and creep up the stairs. You needed to hurry, to not rouse too much suspicion. There was a cracked door, and you rushed to it.

The plaid wallpaper matched the dishevelled bedding and curtains. There was a poster of a car above a small desk that held more trinkets than work. The room wasn’t messy but lived in, with jeans draped over chairs and sheets rumpled. If you had to guess, this was Steve's room.

You weighed your options. Time was of the essence, and you weren’t sure how much longer you had before people would start looking for you. You weren’t sure if you could get away with finding a different room. Also, if you were caught- how upset would Harrington be to find you lurking around his house?

As you looked around, you spotted a window. A decently wide one. One you could prop yourself up in. Your shaky fingers made the decision for you.

You crept in, glancing into the hall before slowly shutting the door behind you. You quickly crossed the room and opened the window. The sun was starting to set over Hawkins. As you looked out, bright oranges and saturated pinks were peeking in between the trees. Cicadas sang a pleasant song, and jaybirds joined in with accompanying harmony.

Your feet were resting on the sill, and your back was against the side of the window. The protruding wood didn’t bother you so much. Not when that sweet buzz started swimming in your brain. The menthol clouds washed your mouth in a refreshing wave, and as it filled your lungs, you felt like you were learning to breathe again. Each pass of oxygen felt cold and refreshing. But the warmth of the smoke warmed you right up. The scratch in the back of your throat grounding you back to reality.

With each puff, you were brought further and further from your mind and closer and closer to Earth. For better or for worse, it was tethering you back to Hawkins.

You were halfway through your cig when you heard a gentle knocking on the door. Your body jumped as you panicked. You quickly snuffed it out against the rough brick walling and tossed it into the grass, making a mental note to retrieve it later. The door opened, and you turned to see a mop of brown hair and curious eyes peek through the crack.

“Hey,” Harrington mutters as he stands up straight, taking a few steps into the door. You had never seen someone so awkward in a space that was their own. “I was just checkin’ in on ya.”

You give him a smile that is genuine but small. It was obvious that he was waiting for you to say something, but you didn’t. His palms ran across the front of his jeans before one found his pocket and the other tangled in his hair.

He had a problem with eye contact, you noticed. Though that was something you were used to. Often people would look at you, but they weren’t looking at you. They would whisper about you in the halls. Or they would see you and your skin and make assumptions. They would see every wall you put up, and all the armour you wore, and decide that you were scary or a threat.

But Harrington wasn’t looking at all. His eyes darted around a space you assumed would be familiar to him. His eyes fell to the carpet and the posters on his wall.

When the silence became too overwhelming, he finally spoke. You watched him steel himself as he finally looked at you again.

“Are you…are you good? Everything alright?”

He was anxious talking to you, and you felt a little bad. He seemed genuine in his concern. But you were cautious. He was still Steve Harrington. Even if he had suffered some form of ego death, you weren’t sure how much that had changed him. Silence seemed to frustrate him though, and you weren’t particularly trying to upset him.

“I’m fine.”

Again, he waited for you to elaborate, but you didn’t.

“What are you doing up here?”

That was a valid question. You asked for the bathroom, and he found you perched in his window. If he wanted to be upset or curious about it, he had every right to be. You decided honesty would be best, but you didn’t want to reveal all of your cards just yet. No need to give him ammo.

“I needed a break. Some fresh air.”

Harrington’s head cocked to the side, his hair flopping ever so slightly. It seemed he didn’t believe you completely but accepted what you told him. His small sigh a sign of his admitted defeat. Though he didn’t completely give up. You expected him to leave or kick you out, but he did neither.

“Can I join you?”

You weren’t about to tell him no. It was his house, his window.

You turned so your legs were dangling out the window, and your back was to the room. There was space for Harrington to slide in but not enough for any personal space. The worn denim brushed against your leg. The texture wasn’t completely unwelcome against your bare thigh. Something else to ground you now that your cigarettes had to stay hidden in your pocket.

You continued in silence, observing him from your peripheral. You hated to admit that Harrington was pretty. He always had been. The problem was he knew it. Everyone did. And even now, you couldn’t deny it. The golden beams made his summer-tanned skin glisten in the light. His quaffed hair was annoyingly perfect. He had grown it out over the years. It now resembled a grown-out mullet, with loose waves that moved effortlessly in the breeze.

If you were being honest, Steve Harrington had always interested you. Growing up in the same town, in the same school, with the same people, you could say you knew everyone fairly well. You were always very observant. But something about Steve stuck out. He had once been quiet, unlike you. But then he changed.

Freshman year of high school he…blossomed in a way. He joined the swim team and played basketball. If you remember correctly, there was a brief time on the baseball team as well. He was suddenly charming and sociable. He managed to use his good looks and blank checks to schmooze his way up the social hierarchy. But you could still see the shy, quiet boy underneath the bravado. It fascinated you.

“Can I bum a cig?”

You froze at his words. You weren’t often surprised, but Harrington’s small smile and relaxed features confused you. His question confused you. When you didn’t respond, he started shimming out of the window.

“It’s fine, I’ll grab one.”

You watched in wonder as he retrieved a pack of Winston’s from a dresser drawer. He pulled his desk chair over to the window and sat down with a cigarette hanging loosely from his lips. You couldn’t help but stare.

He cast you a prize-winning smile, “Light it for me?”

You knew you had been caught and decided not to make a big deal out of it. You pulled the lighter from your pocket, and he leaned further into the window, meeting your hand. On the third strike, a flame came alive, dancing in the setting sun. As soon as there was a cherry, he pulled away, sitting back in his chair as he exhaled.

It was ungodly attractive.

You settle back in your position before, legs up and head back, as you pull out a carton of your own.

“Ah, you’re a menthol girl. I would have pegged you for the cigar type.”

You look at him with playful scepticism.

“A cigar?”

He chuckled, taking another drag before he answered.

“No, not a cigar. But something really bitter, with strong tobacco flavour.”

You shrugged, taking a drag of your own.

“Eh, what can I say? They taste nice.”

“Can I try it?” Steve asked with more excitement than you thought necessary.

You took another hit, “Won’t the children be missing you?”

He shrugged off your comment, “They had too much sugar and crashed. We’re good for another half hour at least.”

We…

The comment caught you off guard for a moment. You quickly shook it from your thoughts.

You figured there was no harm in him trying your Kools. You extended your hand, palm facing him and the cigarette positioned between your pointer and middle finger. Instead of taking it from you, like you expected he would, he wrapped his lips around the exposed filter, never taking his eyes from yours.

You didn’t want to admit the way your heart fluttered from the contact of his lips. You refused to admit that the twinkle in his eyes was mesmerizing. You’d die before you ever admitted that you missed his warmth as he pulled away.

“It goes down smooth. I’ll give ya that.” He said, with a wink.

He offered his to you, and you did the same. You had to match every move he made lest he think he had something over you. If he could take a drag and brush his lips against your hand like it was nothing, so could you. You weren’t sure if Harrington was toying with you, playing some sort of game, but you were determined to win.

There were woody, nutty notes to the plumes. But there was nothing to cover the bitter taste you avoided with menthols. You held back a grimace.

“I hate it.”

He laughed at your response. It was a pleasant sound. You turned back towards the window, ignoring the thought.

The next few minutes passed in silence. Nothing but your breaths and faint crackling filled the air. It was nice. A break from the constant solitude you had found yourself in. The truth is, you always thought you liked being alone, but in the past few weeks, you’ve realised that you actually hated it. You had no one to share your thoughts with, no one to keep you company. No one to comfort you when the monsters wouldn’t let you rest.

Your thoughts were interrupted when Harrington entered your space yet again. He had scooted his chair forward so he could lean with his arms on the window sill. His hair flopped to the side as he looked up from you from where his head rested on his folded elbow.

“So, how long you been smokin’?”

You took a particularly long draw, delaying the answer to a question you knew you wouldn’t avoid.

“A few weeks now.”

He looked at you puzzled, but you saw the moment he connected the dots. He decided not to comment on it, and for that, you were grateful.

“What a saint! You waited until you were eighteen?”

His smile was blinding, so you looked away, scoffing. “I’m hardly a saint.”

He chuckled at that, “Yeah, I’ve seen the trail of bloody noses in the hall. Truly terrifying work.”

What small smile you wore fell. You flicked your cigarette angrily and brought it back to your mouth. You took another long drag before finally responding.

“Yeah, a real trail of tears. Forgive me if I don’t shed one myself. Besides, it got Carol that nose job she had been wanting since the seventh grade. She should be thanking me, really.”

You refused to make eye contact, but from your peripheral, you noticed Harrington prop his head against his arm.

“You know,” He said with a tone you hesitated to call clipped but definitely less friendly, “I remember Nance being on the receiving end of one of your punches. She had a gnarly bruise on her cheek for weeks.”

You shouldn’t. You really shouldn’t, but you couldn’t help yourself. His tone was less than kind, as was the accusation. It angered you that he would say that, not knowing the context of the situation. It was a blow, and you had never been one to not exchange them.

“Now, she’s a saint. Even when using a shotgun or killing monsters. She’s flawless, put together, and neat. Like a perfect little doll.” Your word dripped with bitterness, and Steve tensed.

It was a targeted attack. Not only were you bashing someone he cared very deeply for, but you were also triggering the “protector” instincts he seemed to have developed.

“You talk like you know her,” was all he said, though his tone was becoming more clipped.

“Of course, I know her.” You say as if it was the most obvious thing. “Just like I know Helen, and Tommy, and Tina, and Mikey Lewenski, and you. You guys think you’re all so complex, but if you pay attention for more than a few seconds- you’re obvious.”

Harrington said nothing, and he moved your legs so he could sit beside you again. His eyebrows were furrowed, and there was a small pout on his face. You took a drag from your cigarette, hoping to settle your nerves before burning another bridge. Now, you faced each other as the streetlights came on.

“Oh, please tell me more about how obvious I am. About how well you know me, despite this being the longest conversation we’ve ever had in eighteen years.”

There was a subtle fire in his eyes, and though you knew you shouldn’t, you wanted to stoke it.

“I know that you were born to Arthur and Loretta Harrington on April twenty-ninth of nineteen sixty-seven. I know that you used to be shy, but then in our freshman year, you became popular. And then you threw it all away for Nancy Wheeler. I know you were lonely before, and even when you were surrounded by others, you still felt lonely. And now you’ve found a group of people that accept you, and you feel less lonely.”

He said nothing as he puffed his cigarette, which told you, you were right so far. You leaned forward, whispering the next part like it was a secret. His eyes followed you carefully.

“But you can tell a lot more about a person by what they want…what they desire.”

Steve rolled his eyes, but the effect wasn’t there. He was trying to act annoyed, but you could see the curiosity in his gaze.

“Oh, yeah? And what is it that I want?”

You smile sweetly, flicking the ash from your cigarette before speaking softly.

“You want what you can’t have,” you say with a sweet smile, “And it drives you crazy.”

His eyes search your face, “Is that right?”

You say nothing, watching his eyes follow the movements of your lips as you tag a drag.

When you don’t respond, he speaks again, “What about you, huh?”

He leans forward now as well, eyes still scanning over your face.

“I get everything that I want because I’m crazy,” You say through a slow exhale. “And therefore, I want for nothing.”

“Bullshit.”

You raise a brow, and he continues.

“I don’t buy it. Everyone wants something. I know you like to pretend that you’re some heartless monster, but you’re not. You’re a person, just like me. So what is it? What is it that you want?”

Suddenly his proximity seems too close. You lean away as if thinking through your answer. Deflection seems best.

“I think what you want is far more interesting.” You say. “You are discontent with your prior persona and want absolution from your previous wrongdoings. But the why…that’s what fascinates me.”

He scoffs, opening his mouth to reply, but you’re quicker.

“For some reason, you are stuck on Nancy Wheeler. You loved her- perhaps you still do. Was she the first to look beyond your crown? Is that it?”

Steve fixes you with a look you’ve seen many times before. One that tells you you’re pushing too far, diving too deep.

“You have this idea that if you stray far enough from your old self, she’ll return to you. I can’t imagine why you would want to change everything about yourself, so someone else will like you.

Actually, I can. You must not like yourself very much. There’s probably some deep-seated insecurities behind your need to prove yourself useful to this group.

Or maybe you have no idea who you are yet. You’ve put Nancy on this pedestal as the ideal, perfection. So you’re just shooting for that, in hopes that persona will fit. But it won’t because you’re not her. And you’re not the her in your mind either.”

Steve doesn’t look at you. He focuses all his attention on the ash at the end of his cigarette, watching it fall to the grass below.

“You’ve got me all figured out, don’t ya?”

You shrug, taking another drag, relishing in the last bit of tobacco before the filter.

“It’s a gift.”

Steve turns his head back, locking eyes. The flames before were brighter, despite the purple skies.

“You know what I think?”

“Enlighten me,” you challenged.

“I think you’re scared. I think you’re scared shitless. I think you push anyone away who might get close because they would see just how terrified you really are. You disguise yourself the same way I did. I wore a crown, and you chose leather jackets and angry glares. But both are fake. You’re not all that scary.”

His scowl has softened, and you hate the look in his eyes. It’s not quite pity, but close enough. It’s like he’s looking through you. Holding you up to the sun like a piece of sea glass. And he can see every scratch and crack.

“I’ve seen you with Lucas and Erica,” He continues. “I’ve seen you with Max and El- er Jane, it’s Jane now. I’ve seen the way you protect them. The way you tease and joke with them. I’ve seen you smile with them.

Not so deep down, you’re a big ole softie. I don’t know who or what made you feel like that was a bad thing, but I’m sorry.”

You bit your tongue. Your first thought was to strike. Take a stab at his absent parents, or say that him trying to be better wouldn’t be enough, or that no one in the group really liked him. Anything that would sting, something that might unravel the bit of confidence he had built. To spit vile venom his way and wait for him to climb back inside, for him to wilt and die from your deadly blow.

But something told you that he wouldn’t believe you. That he would see it exactly for what it was: pushing him away, because he was getting too close to the truth. Too close to you. He may see it as a victory. You proving him right.

He had won your verbal spar. He had disarmed you, completely and totally.

You only had two options. You could pretend it wasn’t true, make a joke of it. But any defence you had against that was weak, and the longer you waited to respond the weaker it got. So you went with the next.

“Yeah, well, Hawkins can do that to you.”

Steve’s eyebrows raised, probably not expecting an honest answer or maybe just curious about the answer he got. You looked back out the window, not sure you could say anything with him looking at you like that. Like you were interesting or important.

Instead, you focused on the few stars visible in the sky. You focus on the translucent moon high above as if pushing the sun down below the horizon. Waiting for its time to shine.

You ash your cigarette. You had run it down to the filter, and it bit back. No more menthol to cover the bitter taste left in your mouth. No more tingly sensation to help you breathe.

Something about Steve was alluring. Maybe it was because he was stupidly pretty. Maybe, it was because this is the first time you’re really talking to him, and you find yourself not hating it. Maybe, it’s because even your brother can admit he’s “a good dude.” Maybe, it’s because you haven’t had a good night's sleep since the fourth of July, and it’s finally catching up to you. Maybe, it’s because you have no one else to talk to. But you find yourself going against everything you believe in. You find yourself tearing down walls. You find yourself letting him in.

“Lucas and Erica are younger.”

You take an unsteady breath, uncertain of your words but feeling they were true. Something you needed to say. You prepare another cig with trembling hands, though you can’t use nicotine as an excuse for your tremors this time.

“They have support. They found friends, and they had me. If anyone tried to make them feel bad-less than- they had a big, brave older sister to tell them not to be. They had friends who didn’t make off-handed comments about their hair or selves. They had people in their corner who actively spoke against the bigotry brought on by small-town America.”

You take a drag and hope steve doesn’t notice how shaky your exhale is.

“I didn’t.” You say bitterly. “I had to be my own big, brave sister. I had to be tough. I had to be scarier than what scared me…and now…”

You pause again, unsure if you should continue. But it felt nice to admit. It felt nice to say it and know someone was listening.

“Now there are new fears. Fears beyond my childhood nightmares. I can’t be bigger than them. I can’t scare them off, so they don’t hurt me. I can’t protect Lucas, or Erica, or anyone else against them. I’ve just been made…smaller.”

You had never told anyone this. You had never opened up about it. And you worried about opening up to Steve, of all people. Mr Rich Kid, White Guy, American Dream. What if he turned on you? What if he just didn’t get it? What if he said you were sensitive or stupid? You felt tears brimming in your eyes, but you refused to let them fall. You would not be any further disgraced.

“I’m sorry.”

His voice was small, barely a whisper, but you heard it.

You release a sigh, “Not your fault Harring-”

“Yeah, but I didn’t help.” He interrupts. His voice is stern and holds a certain anger to it that makes you nervous. “I knew Tommy and Helen were…racist. I heard the jokes they would make-jokes they would make about you. And I never said anything. I never said anything. I just…ignored it.”

“Harrington, you’re not the only one. A lot of people do. It’s not like you hate crimed me or anything,” You try to reassure.

Steve flicks his cigarette into the yard and watches it fall. He leans back against the window as his hand passes through his hair a few times before settling in his lap, where he fiddles with his fingers.

There is a mix of sorrow and anger in his next words. A sound of defeat you recognise all too well. One that comes along with a painful reality check.

“Is the bar really that low?”

You had never considered that before. That hate crimes and outright bigotry was where you drew the line. That you had never considered…more.

“Huh,” you uttered, surprised by Steve's wisdom, “I guess so.”

You couldn't read this new expression. But the sides of his mouth were turned up just enough, and you wanted to call it a smile. Though you knew it was probably one of the sad variety.

He shook his head, as a dry chuckle left him.

“For what it’s worth,” Steve began, “I think you’re plenty tough. But this whole government-experiment-demi gorgon-mind-flayer-shit would be a lot for anyone. I couldn’t sleep for days. Nance was haunted by it for months. Robyn’s been spending the night here because she doesn’t want to be alone. Jonathan lives in constant fear that something else is gonna take his brother, or try to.

What I mean to say is…you’re not weak or small because you’re scared. Anyone with sense would be. And if you want, we’re all here for you.”

You cast him a small but genuine smile and bump his leg with your foot. “Thank you.”

He nods nervously and you watch as his hand passes through his hair.

“As for the other stuff, I’m not sure if this is appropriate to say or not,” Steve all but whispered into the night sky, “But I actually think you’re pretty cool. Like your hair and stuff, very awesome. And- and your skin is really pretty. Especially in the sun. You’re- you’re very pretty.”

The way he tripped over his words was endearing. Far removed from the suave king he once was. You feel mildly bad for the laugh that bubbles out of you. Steve looks both shocked and offended.

“Oh, my god!” He says with a twinge of pink on his cheeks, “Are you laughing? Did I just make you laugh? I didn’t even know you could do that!”

You bump his leg again, “Shut up, Steve. You tell anyone, and I’ll have to kill you.”

His smile remains wide, “I know you just threatened my life, but you also just called me Steve and not Harrington. So, I think I’ll take my chances.”

You roll your eyes at him but all hostility from the action is absent. However, your smile, while small, remains.

The crickets are chirping now, and the jaybirds have stopped. You can hear frogs picking up in the melody deep within the trees. The stars shine brightly overhead; Orion and Cygnus look down upon you. The summer breeze is ever-soft as it dances through branches and kisses your cheeks. You take a deep breath, and you feel like you’re learning to breathe again.

Taglist: @barbecuetiddy, @fanfics-instead-of-depression, @hadesdaughtwr, @heejinw0rld, @Isshecrazyorissheclever, @rudy-the-winged-wolf, @scorpiolystoned, @wannapizzamymindposts, @whoreforklitz,

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andvys · 1 month

Text

Dancing with our hands tied | S.H.

Chapter eight ⭐︎ Say my name and everything just stops

Warnings: 18+, minors don't interact! jealousy, angst, low self-esteem (kinda?), mentions of the upside down. weed and alcohol consumption. I will not spoiler anything here, so read with caution

Pairing: Steve Harrington x fem!reader

Summary: You blindly began to follow your feelings, hanging onto a hope that died just as quickly as it came.

Word count: 10k+

Author's note: @hellfire--cult and I came up with this whole idea and we kept talking about this moment for weeks and now its finally here, I hope you guys are gonna enjoy it as much as we did hehe

Series Masterlist ⭐︎ Previous Chapter ⭐︎ Next Chapter

♡

The spring wind blows through the open windows in your room, touching your skin and slightly lifting the ends of your new dress. The smell of vanilla and the floral scent of your perfume lingers in the air. You’re leaning closer to your mirror as you apply your favorite gloss to your lips.

A tingling, exciting feeling bubbles in your stomach, your heart jumping every few seconds or so at the thought of seeing him today.

Steve’s reactions were everything you were hoping for when you teased him at the diner and in his car, yesterday. His blushing cheeks and the wide, darkened eyes filled you with victory after you had placed a kiss upon his flushed skin. You are still not sure what had caused you the sudden rush of courage, but you’re glad that it hit you because the way he looked at you, the way he reacted, the way his breath hitched in his throat finally gave you the last push to do what you had always wanted to do. Today, you’re finally going to give in to your feelings.

The nervous, insecure part of you is telling you that there is still a big chance that he might reject you, that you will ruin this thing between you both by making the final move.

And usually that weak part of your mind would win, it would fill you with enough humiliating images to pull back, to make you rethink your decision, to keep you hiding in the shadows, the way you always did.

But you’re no longer letting it win.

You will do this, even if you might lose your dignity.

Placing the lip gloss back on your vanity, you reach for your favorite necklace, and put it on. You touch up your hair one last time, fixing your bangs before you take a step back, eying the red and white sundress, the little bows on the straps, the dainty flowers on the material, the shortness of it that exposes enough of your skin to drive him crazy… you hope.

‘Just make your move, babe. Do you really think King Steve would reject you?’

Your smile falls a little when Billy’s voice echoes in your mind.

Every memory of your best friend brings a hurtful pang to your heart.

He was the only one who knew about your feelings for Steve and surprisingly he kept encouraging you to ask him out, to make your move.

Would he be proud of you now?

Or would he still make fun of you for liking someone like Steve?

You step away from the mirror and walk over to the window, closing it before you leave your room and make your way downstairs. Eddie isn’t picking you up for once, even though he called you three times already, asking if he should come pick you up and if you’re truly feeling good enough to drive yourself again – you are. The headaches are gone, the dizziness is gone too. All that is left are the nightmares and the sudden rushes of anxiety but you are okay, you feel okay.

You walk over to the dresser in your hallway, reaching inside the key bowl to retrieve your car keys when something else catches your eye. The one single key, lying in there, you reach for it, furrowing your brows as you trace your finger along the metal, letting it fall in your palm.

You still remember the day when Max had showed up at your house, asking for you to take Billy’s car before Neil would destroy it in a moment of rage.

‘He’d want you to have it anyway.’ She said as she handed you the keys.

You remember how you broke down crying the moment you got into the driver's seat. You missed your best friend and it felt so wrong to sit in the place that once belonged to him.

You got the windshield fixed and anything else that needed to be repaired, before you parked it in your garage, planning to never open the gate again and just leave the car there until Max would ask for it back. And, you did leave it there, for a few weeks at least.

Your car broke down on a hot Friday afternoon and the mechanic at the local shop told you that it would take a few weeks to get it fixed. You walked and used the bus for a few days, and then the rain and the storms crashed upon Hawkins, giving you no choice but to take the blue Camaro.

Max even joked about it, she told you that it was Billy who caused your car to break down and who somehow let it rain and storm over the town so you would finally take his beloved car out for a ride because it’s just too pretty to be hidden and locked away in a dark, cold garage.

You’d sometimes drive around at night, when the streets were empty and no one was around.

When you visited your sister in Indianapolis, you took his car.

But now it’s been a while, the last time you sat behind that steering wheel was right before the apocalypse almost hit the town.

A sigh falls from your lips as you stare at the key.

“Not today,” you murmur as you place it back where it laid before and reach for your keys.

The drive to Eddie’s new place isn’t a long one, he only lives a few streets away from you now, it would only be a ten minute walk but you desperately waited for the moment when you could finally drive again, and you didn’t want to pass up on the opportunity today.

You missed this, sitting behind the steering wheel, instead of the passenger seat, longing to be the one in control. You missed picking the music yourself – not that Eddie’s music taste is a bad one, you just need a mix of everything, not just rock and heavy metal, sometimes you just need a girly pop song – not that you would ever admit it to him.

When you arrive at your destination and you pull up to Eddie’s driveway, you notice that Steve’s car isn’t there yet. Only Jonathan’s car is parked next to Eddie’s Impala.

Steve is never late, yesterday being the first time that he was the last one to arrive, so he is either still waiting for Robin or… running late is his new thing.

“There she is!” Eddie chuckles as opens the front door at the same time as you get out of your car, “and she’s here in one piece!”

A laugh tumbles from your lips as you close the door and lock your car before you make your way over to him, eying the new shirt he’s wearing – which is just another band tee that you have never heard of before. His curly hair up in a bun and a can of beer in his hand.

“I’m a good driver, what are you talking about, Eds?”

He furrows his brows, lips curling into an amused smile, “are you?”

You walk up the steps to his porch, greeting him with an eye roll, “you know what, next time I’ll pick you up.”

He smirks, using his index finger to point at your car.

“What, with your baby Mustang over there?”

You squint your eyes at him, “nope, I’ll take the hidden gem in my garage.”

“Wait what… What hidden gem?”

“You’ll find out,” you wink at him, trying to brush past him when he stops you, placing his hand on your arm, he pulls you back softly.

“Wait.”

You raise your brows at him, “yes?”

He’s got the twinkle in his eyes, the one he always has when he’s happy about something. His lip twitches, pale cheeks slowly changing color, he’s barely able to contain his excitement as he bounces on his feet.

“Guess who scored a date?”

Your eyes widen, lips parting as you remember the pretty waitress from the diner.

Eddie is blushing, lips now curling into a full smile.

“Oh my god, really?” You ask as a grin appears on your face.

“Yeah! I’m gonna take her out tomorrow night, I can’t fucking wait, sweets.” He says with a dreamy look in his eyes. “She was so sweet a-and fuck… she’s gorgeous, don’t know how she said yes to me.”

You frown at him, reaching your hand out to pinch his cheek, “you’re a handsome, sweet boy, Edward, now shush. You’re gonna knock her off her feet. Any girl would be lucky to have you.”

His eyes soften, he rubs the back of his neck before his fingers trace the scar on the side – you know that it’s now an insecurity of his, just like it is one of yours. Scars litter your skin from where a bat had left a gnarly wound on the back of your shoulder, from where Jason had hurt you, from where he had left reminders for you that he was the one who did this to you.

But your scars aren’t nearly half as bad as all the ones on his skin.

“I’ve never been on a date before,” he murmurs, eyes flashing with doubt.

“So? It’s gonna be even more special then,” you shrug.

“I just don’t wanna mess it up.”

“You won’t,” you smile at him, “you’ve got that special charm, one that makes others like you right away, you’re funny and you’re sweet, now stop doubting yourself or I’ll kick your ass and hunt down every asshole who ever made you feel otherwise.”

He chuckles at your words, though his eyes are still soft as he looks at you. He doesn’t doubt you, he knows that you would actually hunt down every name on the list of people who hurt him.

“Got it?”

“Got it.”

“Good,” you say, sternly.

“Good,” he nods.

You stare at each other for a moment before you both burst into giggles. He wraps his arm around your shoulder and he pulls you inside his house, narrowing his eyes as he takes in your dress.

“Who’d you dress up for, sweets?” He asks, “there’s no hot guys here.”

“Well, aren’t you humble?”

“No hot guys besides me, of course,” he corrects himself after clearing his throat, smirking at you.

You only shake your head in response.

You pass by the kitchen and the big shelf that was specifically customized for Wayne’s mug collection. Vinyls are on the walls in the long hallway that leads to the living room where you hear the chatter of your friends and the faint music that sounds through the house.

The smell of weed already lingering in the air.

The sound of Nancy’s giggle, followed by a voice you hadn’t heard in a while makes you furrow your brows.

“Argyle is back?”

Your surprised voice along with the wide eyes you look at him with make him chuckle. He knew you weren’t paying attention when he told you about it days back. You were too distracted by whatever daydream you were stuck in as he let both you and Steve know that Argyle was coming back to spend the summer in Hawkins before going off to college in September – something that Eddie definitely won’t be doing, he won’t be going to college, he won’t be going anywhere, at least not now, not yet, maybe not ever, even though it’s all he ever wanted.

He walked the stupid stage, he snatched his diploma and he finally flipped Higgins the bird, despite the glares, despite the whispers of the people who still blamed him for what had happened weeks back but it doesn’t matter, he tells himself. It doesn’t matter what they say or think because he got people who believed him, people who care about him, people who were willing to fight for him, people who are worth staying for.

“Yeah, he’s here the whole summer.”

“Ooh, means we’re gonna get high a lot, cool,” you giggle.

“Like we don’t do that all that time,” Eddie rolls his eyes, though a smile tugs at his lips as he pushes towards the living room, your feet carrying you closer and closer to your friends.

Despite Steve not being here yet, you already feel the rush of excitement mixed with the nervousness of what you plan on doing, flushing through your veins.

Your eyes first fall on Jonathan and Nancy who are standing by the door that leads out into Eddie’s backyard, his arm wrapped around her shoulder, a smile tugging at her lips when she sees you.

“Hi!” She waves at you, a friendly look on her face.

“Hey,” you smile at her before you look over at her boyfriend, greeting him as well. You then turn your head to your right, your smile widening when your eyes meet Argyle’s already very dazed ones.

He stands up from his seat on the couch, his hair falling in front of his face a little, he opens his arms, revealing his Bob Marley shirt to you.

“Well look at what the cat dragged in,” he jokes as he steps towards you, “come here, chica.”

You chuckle, leaving Eddie’s side to greet Argyle, who instantly pulls you into a tight hug. The smell of weed enveloping you, right away.

“I didn’t know you’d be back so soon!”

“So soon?” He slurs, patting your head when you pull back again, chuckling when you swat his hand away. “You didn’t miss me?” He jokes as he wraps his arm around your shoulder, just the way Eddie did before, he pulls something out of his pocket, handing it to you, “here, got you a little gift from California.”

Your eyes lighten up in amusement, a smile tugging at your lips as you look at the blunt he’s holding, you take it, holding it up as you look up at him with a grin, “why thanks.”

“You gotta share that one with me,” Jonathan grins at you, lazily.

“You’ve had enough already,” Nancy rolls her eyes, though not without a smile on her lips. She pats his chest, “come on, let’s go outside.”

“Yeah, you guys go ahead, I’m gonna grab some more drinks,” Eddie says before he leaves the living room.

You all step out into the backyard, walking over to the little fire pit where the flames are already glowing, surrounded by the comfortable seats. The sound of water flowing from the stream filling the air with a fresh scent, the smell of flowers and the trees giving you a sense of peace.

Eddie’s backyard is comforting and nice, despite being close to the forest, it’s making you feel safe. He wouldn’t have this now if he hadn’t been dragged into a world of darkness – unlike you, he didn’t grow up in wealth, he didn’t have a fancy house, a fancy backyard with a pool. No. Eddie grew up in a lonesome house, one that certainly wasn’t as luxurious as yours or the one he lives in now. The house he grew up in was haunted by painful memories of his mother that he lost at a way too young age and his father who came and went as he pleased, it was the only thing that he had, the only thing he called his own, but that was taken from him too and he had no choice but to move in with his Uncle Wayne, who had done everything to give him a home – and now, Eddie gave him that back, he gave Wayne a home, a nice house with a nice roof over his head, a garden that he always wanted to have. Eddie had tried to keep the upside down a secret, he didn’t want to talk about what was out there, he didn’t want to worry him, he didn’t want to tell him where all the money actually came from but Wayne isn’t stupid and Eddie isn’t exactly the best at keeping secrets from the people he loves and cares about.

You wonder what you would have told your parents if they were still here – would you have told them the truth about what actually happened at the Creel house? Or would you have kept it all a secret? You are certainly much better at keeping secrets hidden. Eddie couldn’t even look Wayne in the eyes when he told him that the bite marks on his skin came from a rabid dog and not from interdimensional bats.

Something cold touches your shoulder, making you flinch in surprise. You tilt your head up, meeting the eyes of your best friend again, “where’s your head at, sweets?” He chuckles, holding the can of diet pepsi out to you.

With furrowed brows, you look down at the drink and reach for it, “thanks,” you murmur, “and uh, nowhere. I’m just fascinated by your backyard.”

His dimples show when a laugh escapes him, he takes a seat beside you, snatching away the blunt from your lap, he places it between his lips and uses his red lighter to light it up. He lets out a content sigh as he leans back, puffing out the smoke into the sky before he takes a look around, “it’s nice isn’t it?”

You nod, pulling the tab on your pepsi, it opens with a pop.

“It’s better than mine.”

He turns his head to look at you, a bewildered look on his face, “you’re crazy, sweets. You got a pool.”

“You got one too!” You chuckle, pointing to the pool that has yet to be used, it’s warm out, not hot yet.

“Yeah, well yours is fucking huge, and you got a hot tub too!”

“You got a hot tub, chica?” Argyle gasps from your right, “oh, you’re rich rich.”

“Correction, my parents were rich.”

“Correction, we’re all rich now,” Jonathan adds, pointing at you with a dazed smile.

“Rich isn’t exactly the term I would use,” Nancy mumbles as she takes a sip of her soda.

“Then what term would you use, Wheeler?” Eddie asks, shaking his head at her, “enlighten us.”

Nancy clears her throat, placing her elbow on the wooden armrest, “we’re taken care of.”

Jonathan snorts, putting his hand on her thigh as he gives her an amused smile, while she already rolls her eyes at whatever is about to leave his mouth – there’s no annoyance behind her eyes though, no tension in her body from where he touched her, unlike with Steve, who she always looked tense and irritated with. Back then you didn’t understand why, there were so many questions in your mind when you watched them and when she left him – how could anyone be irritated with Steve? How could anyone be tense with someone that provides so much love and warmth to the people he so deeply cares about? How could she leave him? How could she break his heart? Who could ever hurt Steve Harrington?

“Just admit it, we’re rich.”

A groan echoes through the backyard, one that doesn’t belong to Eddie, Nancy or anyone else sitting in the circle. You all turn your heads towards the house, finding a very annoyed Robin making her way over to you, a six pack of beers in her hand, sunglasses perched on her nose even though the sun is starting to go down already.

Eddie isn’t surprised at her barging into his home, she does it all the time, to him, to you, to Steve, he doesn’t mind it though.

You straighten your back, holding your drink tighter as you look away from her, waiting for Steve to walk through the door.

The feelings inside of you start to rise again, your heart picking up the pace as your skin starts burning from the excitement.

Robin plops down in the seat next to Eddie, placing the beers on the ground as she slumps back, sighing loudly.

Everyone’s watching her, expecting a rant already but you’re still fixated on the door, waiting for him.

“Buckley, why so angry?”

She pulls her sunglasses up into her hair, turning to face him, “I’m glad you asked,” she murmurs as she reaches for one of the beers, “Dingus ditched me, so I had to walk all the way here!” She throws her arms up dramatically.

You furrow your brows at her words, the burning on your skin beginning to die down just as fast as it came.

Argyle and Jonathan chuckle at her.

“You live 3 blocks away from here…” Nancy mumbles.

“Not the point, Nance,” she argues, glaring at her friend.

“Wait, so Steve isn’t coming?” Jonathan slurs.

Your eyes are wide and hopeful, your hand clutching the can tighter as you dig your feet into the grass beneath you, a weird feeling settling in the pit of your stomach.

“Wetting his dick with Heidi seems more fucking important today,” she grumbles, rolling her eyes as she raises the beer to her lips.

Your heart drops.

The burning in your skin disappears completely as the fire is replaced by ice, the coldness of it freezing your whole body, stopping your heart and taking the false hope away as it kills every feeling that had taken home inside of you just seconds ago.

Your eyes are stuck on her like you’re waiting, waiting for her to laugh and say it was a joke, that he will be here soon, that he isn’t out with some other girl after what happened between you and him yesterday.

“Whoa, what?” Eddie mumbles, holding his hands up, “so… he’s on a date with the girl he didn’t want to keep seeing?”

“Yep.”

Every ounce of excitement is now replaced by the sickness in your stomach, the lump in your throat that makes you struggle to breathe.

What were you thinking?

That the game you played wasn't just a game to him? That it was something more than that? That he wanted you just the way you always wanted him? That he could ever feel something for you?

You don’t know whether you want to laugh at yourself or cry.

How saddening it is to long for someone who was forced to like you.

While you were getting ready, making yourself look pretty for him, thinking that he might like you in this dress – he was getting ready to take out another girl, a girl that he chose to like.

You slowly slump back in your seat when Eddie’s laughter pulls you back into reality. You blink, masking the shocked, pained look on your face with a relaxed one as you take a sip of your drink, hoping that it will get rid of the lump sitting in your throat – it doesn’t. Nothing does.

Your friends move on to another topic, while you stay there, where you will stay for a while now. The pain of the rejection that has never even taken place, slowly sinking in and everything around you begins to suffocate you – the dress you are wearing, the necklace around your neck, even the presence of your friends.

You don’t want to be here any longer, you need to be alone.

But you can’t go, not now, not yet.

It would be too soon, too obvious and they can’t know, no one can know about your feelings for Steve, about how much it hurts to feel that way for him.

So you hide the pain as best as you can, you nod along to your friends' conversation, you speak and you laugh when you have to, even when everything inside of you wants you to cry both out of sadness and anger.

You’re not even angry at him, you couldn’t be angry at him even if you tried to be. He doesn’t know about your feelings – if he did, he wouldn’t have filled you with false hope, you know he wouldn’t.

He wouldn’t string you along, you know he’s not the type of person to do something like that, not even to you. But you really thought that you had something, that there was something between you, that’s why you let your walls crumble, that’s why you started acting upon your feelings, that’s why you were ready to do more than just the subtle touches and the flirtations.

You wait, you wait for the right moment to leave, when everyone is distracted enough, you get up, after whispering an apology, a lie into Eddie’s ear, knowing that he doesn’t believe you, that he will probably call you later or even show up to check on you. But he lets you go.

And as you leave your friends, making your way back into the house, their laughter echoes in your ears, their happy voices and the cheerfulness they’re all feeling, that you were supposed to feel too.

You blink back the tears, not wanting them to fall just yet.

You make your way back to your car, not wasting a second to start it and drive home, your vision blurred and your throat hurting from how much you want to cry.

How foolish it was of you to think that you could ever stand a chance – there was never one to begin with. You will always be the one in the shadows, the one to secretly watch him, the one to secretly want him, the one with the jealousy and the heartache, the one wishing to be anyone but herself because maybe then, he would want you too.

The smell of smoke from the campfire is now lingering on your clothes and in your hair, tears are now falling freely, ruining the makeup that you have spent hours on, the makeup that you can’t wait to wash off now.

You don’t even want to think about him.

You don’t want to ask yourself what he’s doing now.

He touched you so softly, so subtly, and yet it did everything to set your insides on fire, to make you feel special, even if only for a short moment.

Now he is touching someone else, in far more special ways.

A frustrated sigh falls from your lips when you step inside your home, it’s cold and empty, something that you have felt like for a very long time until he started the fire inside of you, only to make it die again… and all without his knowledge.

You walk up the stairs and past your room, going straight into the bathroom, feeling the need to wash away the day, as though it could ease the aching in your chest. You start the shower before you turn to the sink, not even bothering to look at your reflection in the mirror, it would only make you feel more pathetic.

You can feel the hot tears rolling down your cheeks, the quivering in your bottom lip.

You hate this, you hate the sadness that you shouldn’t be feeling in the first place.

You got no reason to be sad, you should have put your feelings aside, knowing that nothing would ever come out of it.

It was all so obvious, it was just teasing, nothing more, nothing less. Nothing ever happened, so why would it happen now? He just found another way of messing with you, so that you two wouldn’t go at each other's throats like before.

You just have to go back. No more teasing like this. No more letting yourself get sucked into delusions. He is just having fun while you crave something more with him and get hopeful.

You aren’t having fun. You wanted more.

You have no choice but to go back to how you were before this… thing started.

Once your makeup is off and your dress is now laying on the bathroom floor, you step inside the shower, letting the warmth envelope you, hoping for a sense of comfort from it.

Standing there for a moment, you let the water rain upon your skin, matching the pace of your tears that you’re willing away.

You will hunt Billy in the afterlife for making you believe that King Steve could ever want you.

You use your scented shampoo, hoping that it will get rid of the smell of smoke in your hair. You love campfire’s but you can’t stand the stench it leaves on your clothes and your hair.

Your hands run over your smooth skin as you wash your body, reminding you of the fact that you even shaved this morning – you couldn’t feel more stupid than you do right now.

Despite the loudness of your own voice cursing at you inwardly and the water hitting the glass, you hear the sound of your doorbell going off – multiple times.

“What the fuck,” you murmur in confusion.

It keeps ringing again and again – once, twice and it stops after a third time before it turns into rapid knocking.

You know it isn’t Eddie, he wouldn’t even have the patience to ring your doorbell and wait for you to open, he’d just barge right in.

You’d choose to ignore it if the person outside wasn’t so goddamn persistent.

You turn off the shower, squeezing the water from your hair before you get out, and wrap a towel around your body. The mirror is fogged, as the rest of the room is, you open the door and step out into the hallway, that now feels colder than before.

The knocking continues, filling you with anger.

Who shows up at night, knocking like a mad man?

Maybe you shouldn’t make your way downstairs now, maybe you shouldn’t open the door to whoever it is on the other side. It could be anyone or anything but you doubt that Vecna came back from the dead to knock on doors now and hunt you of all people – he could have done that weeks back, you went through enough trauma, he could have easily chosen you but even he didn’t want you.

You rip open the door, ready to curse and yell at whoever is terrorizing you at this hour but every word gets caught in your throat and even your breathing halts for a second as your glassy eyes meet the hazel ones that you have been missing all day. Frustration and anger swirling inside them, blazing fire raging behind his eyes. His cheeks are slightly flushed, his chest rising up and down heavily as he stands on your porch, looking better than ever.

“Steve?” His name tumbles out of your mouth before you can stop it as you stare at him in confusion.

He eyes you up and down, taking in the sight of your exposed skin that is still dripping with water before he clenches his jaw, raising his hand to run his fingers through his hair, tugging at it.

Steve Harrington is fucked. He is utterly fucked. You have cursed him in every way possible, he can’t get you out of his mind, he can’t get you out of his system and the thought that you were only playing with him drove him insane. His hunger for you made him desperate, desperate for release.

So in his state of frustration and desperation, he called up Heidi, thinking that a date and sex with a girl he had been with before would help him move on and stop thinking about you but who was he fooling. He couldn’t even kiss her when she leaned in to greet him with her lips, he dodged her. He couldn’t even listen to the things she was telling him after they ordered their drinks. He couldn’t care less about her. All he could think about was you. All he wanted was you. He wanted your lips to kiss him, he wanted your hands to touch him, he wanted your body under his and the more he thought about it, the more he stopped caring about a possible humiliation after he’d finally make a move on you, he needed you, and he needed to try – if you’d reject him, then so be it, at least he would know and not live with the what if’s in his head.

He canceled the date in the middle of it, not caring about how messed up that was. He drove her home and without a second thought, he drove here, he came to you.

And now, you’re standing in front of him, in nothing but a towel, water rolling down your soft skin, big eyes filled with confusion, lips parted, lips that he wants to kiss until he grows breathless.

The sight in front of him does little to make any of this easier for him. You look like you’ve just walked out of one the dreams he had about you.

“You gotta be kidding me,” he murmurs under his breath, surprising you when he invites himself into your home, brushing past you with an intensity that almost knocks you off your feet.

You blink, turning around abruptly, a bewildered look replacing your confused one.

As you take in the sight of him, your sadness begins to dissolve as the anger you started to miss floods through your veins the longer you look at him.

You slam the door shut when the wind causes goosebumps to rise on your skin, you hold the towel tighter against your body as you glare at him, “what the fuck?”

“I have to be the one to say that!” He argues.

“Excuse me?” You scoff, your face now burning with rage. Every second that passes now makes you forget about the tears you just shed over him, irritation sparking inside of you so wildly that you want nothing more than to kick him out of your house for behaving that way towards you for no reason. “Weren’t you on a date with… Heidi?”

Steve clenches his jaw at the mocking voice, at the smirk now tugging on your lips. He chuckles, though not in amusement, he points a finger at you, “see, that’s what I’m fucking talking about!”

Your brows knit together at his outburst, the fire in his eyes growing stronger and bigger.

“Harrington, if you came to yell nonesense at me, just fucking leave!” You roll your eyes and turn away from him, making your way back towards the stairs.

But his scoff stops you.

“Oh, so you keep running away huh!? Didn’t you already get over that!?”

You turn around with nothing but anger boiling inside of you, “running away!? From what!?”

This should have been enough to make him turn around and leave, because clearly nothing changed, clearly this is still just a game to you – but he has hope, and he is desperate enough to throw every bit of his dignity away and risk something.

“Oh, don’t play fucking dumb right now. Acting like that for two weeks and pretending to be stupid is not a good look on you, Blondie.”

You take in a sharp breath, digging your fingers into your towel as you frown at him.

What does he want from you?

Why did he come here?

Was the date so bad, was the sex so awful that he had to come here to torture you?

Without another word, you turn around and you stomp up the stairs, not wanting to see him, not wanting to hear his voice anymore.

Your heart starts pounding in your chest again, and you can’t help but wonder – did he figure you out? Did he figure out your feelings? Is that why he is here? To confront you about them? To reject you?

You feel more and more stupid about what you had wanted to do when you woke up this morning.

Just when your feet carry you up to the second floor, and you rush across the hallway to walk into your room, his footsteps echo behind you, making you more irritated than before. You turn around to face him, but before you can even say anything, Steve is suddenly right in front of you, and his hands reach out to grab your waist, he pushes you against the wall behind you, gently, careful not to hurt you.

The gasp that falls from your lips startles you. His hands that touch the only thing that covers your body leaving your skin on fire. Your heart rate picks up so rapidly that it nearly steals your breath away. You look up into his golden brown orbs, the ones that are nearly black as he steps even closer, invading your space completely, making you breathe in the scent of his cologne, the one that has butterflies swirling in your stomach.

He catches you off guard completely.

You feel so vulnerable, so exposed as you stand there, caged in by his arms, his breath on your skin, his eyes that are filled with so much hunger.

The words die on your tongue, and yet, after you breathe in more of his scent, you open your mouth to speak.

“Shut up, Blondie… Just shut up for a second,” he murmurs, interrupting whatever words you had prepared to lie to him with.

His right hand leaves your waist, inching closer to your stomach as his fingers trace the hem of your towel, drool already forming in his mouth at the sight of you, he is ready to take you, ready to devour you and make you scream his name before he fucks you for only this time.

He notices the way your chest is moving, the way your breathing stutters.

“W-What are you doing, perv?” You stutter as you watch him play with the opening of your towel.

He can’t help but laugh, shaking his head at your insult.

“Perv? Are you going to continue to play fucking dumb?”

“Dumb? You are the dumb one if you think that I’m going to be the one to break into your teasing.”

Steve’s eyes flash with satisfaction.

This is what he wanted – to hear you admit that you were playing that game with him after all and not because you were playing him and stringing him along just to turn him down to gain something from it, whatever it might be. No. You were doing just what he was hoping for, all along.

You want him just as much as he wants you and that’s all he needs to know.

You roll your eyes at him, turning your head as you try to push your way out of his grasp but before you can even step away from him, his hands stop you but not on your waist this time. His large hands cup your cheeks, making you freeze. You stare at him wide eyed when he brings you closer, and you can’t even react before his whole body is suddenly pressed against yours, your heartbeat lurches into your throat.

As though his touch wasn’t shocking enough, his next move almost causes you to collapse, because now it isn’t only his body against yours, his hands on your cheeks or his breath on your skin, now it’s his lips… his lips on yours, his lips moving against yours in desperation as he takes every last of your breath and makes it his own.

You can’t do anything, you can’t move, you can’t breathe, you can’t even blink as you stare at him – how his eyes are closed and his cheeks are flushed, the furrowed brows as he kisses you with a kind of passion no one has ever kissed you with before.

Steve is kissing you.

Steve Harrington is kissing you.

His lips are moving roughly against yours, his hands holding your cheeks so softly, yet with an intensity.

This is all you ever wanted, to feel his touch and his lips on yours but you are too stunned to move, too surprised to kiss him back right now, too distracted wondering if this is real or not.

Along with the shock, you feel the slightest bit of insecurity flooding through you because even though he is kissing you, you can’t help but wonder why. Why isn’t he with Heidi? Why isn’t he kissing her right now? Did she turn him down? Did he come here because he just needed someone? Because he knew that you would fall for this? Or is this just another way for him to tease you?

Those questions prompt you to push him away, forcing him to break the kiss that he was so deeply lost in.

You notice the way he begrudgingly pulls away, the way he seems so drawn to your lips, the way his brows furrow in confusion now, his face is flushed and his pupils dilated as he looks at you with nothing but desperation in his eyes – he isn’t teasing, he wants you, he wants you right now and isn’t that all that matters? That he wants you?

His eyes stare into yours as he is breathing heavily. A flash of rejection takes over his features and by the look in his eyes, you can tell that he is beginning to get lost in his anxious thoughts – thoughts that you quickly shut down by making the move that he just made. You cup his cheeks and you pull him down, closing your eyes as you slam your lips against his for the very first time.

Unlike you, he wastes no second to reciprocate the kiss, a sigh of content leaving him as he presses you back against the wall.

Warmth blooms in your stomach, one that doesn’t stay the same temperature for long because the moment he deepens the kiss, the moment his hands hold you tighter and his knee parts your legs, sliding his thigh in between yours as the kiss gets rougher and rougher, you feel the warmth evolving into a deeper, burning sensation – a fire inside of you that only he can mend.

You can’t believe that this is happening, that something that you had been craving for years is now here.

And Steve, he feels his heart pounding in his chest from the rush, from the adrenaline, from his desperation that grows bigger and stronger when he feels just how much you want him as your lips move roughly with his.

You're hesitant with your touch, but when he grabs your face and pulls you even tighter against his body, his thigh pressing stronger against your core, you can’t help but throw your arms around his neck, digging your fingers into the hair that you’ve always wanted to touch.

You can feel him smirking against your lips when you moan into the kiss, which prompts you to tug at his hair and press your tongue against his bottom lip.

He welcomes it into his mouth so eagerly, his tongue now clashing against yours as his palms slide down to your waist while your hands reach for the front of his shirt, fisting the material tightly as you begin to drag him into your room.

You both know, you both feel where this is going, what this is leading to – what the past few weeks have been leading to.

You want this, you need this, you need him, even if just for tonight.

And you know, you already know that you will be done for, that he will ruin you for anyone else but you couldn’t care less, right now. Especially when he kisses you with so much roughness, everything about this setting all your insides on fire, leaving your skin burning and yet aching for more.

Steve is careful not to step on your bare feet as you lead him backwards into a different room. Excitement bubbles in his stomach and he grows even more breathless than before, he pulls away and breaks the kiss but doesn’t hesitate to latch his lips onto your neck, kissing and biting your flesh, “I fucking hate you, Blondie. I hate that I want you so much.”

Your lashes flutter as you close your eyes, tilting your head to the side as you feel your stomach and your heart fluttering at his touch, at his lips on your skin but especially at his words.

Your knees grow weak and a needy whimper falls from your puffy lips.

All that echoes in your mind now is I want you. I want you. I want you.

You don’t even care about the other things he said to you, you only care about the three little words you have only ever dreamt of before.

You almost fall when you feel the back of your legs hitting your bed, but he keeps you upright, not pushing you down just yet. He keeps nibbling on your neck, kissing, biting, sucking as he breathes heavily against you, growing harder against your stomach.

“Couldn’t even finish the fucking date, couldn’t do anything cause I kept thinking about you, Blondie,” he speaks into your neck, fingers now dangerously close to your bare skin behind the towel.

Your heart nearly explodes at his words and you can’t help but sigh in relief, knowing that nothing happened between him and Heidi. And all because of you.

“You drive me fucking crazy, I want to rip the towel right off–”

“Then do!” You whine, not caring about how eager and desperate you sound, “show me how much you hate me, Stevie.”

He pulls away from your neck after placing another wet kiss to your skin, strands of your hair getting caught in his as he faces you again, with flushed cheeks and almost black eyes he looks at you and takes in the sight of you, the pout on your lips, the flustered look on your face, big eyes that you are begging him with.

He doesn’t even bother to look around the room, just caring about the bed behind you.

He rips the towel off your body, letting it fall to the ground, his hands find your bare waist that he grips tightly as he throws you on the bed, smirking at the gasp that leaves your lips again.

Without hesitating to, he reaches for the hem of his shirt and rips it off.

Just like back then on the boat, when he took his shirt off before he jumped into the water, you stare at his chest, almost drooling at the delicious sight in front of you. His broad shoulders, the scar around his neck that makes him look even hotter, the hairs on his chest, the muscles in his arms that have visibly gotten bigger since high school. You bite your lip as your eyes move down, almost whining when you see the bulge in his tight jeans.

You wish you could run your finger down his chest and his stomach, tracing every little scar that the bats have left behind, but instead, you push yourself up, blushing at the fact that you are completely bare in front of him. You reach for his belt, fingers beginning to fumble with the metal when he stops you with a simple touch and a headshake.

“None of that,” he murmurs as he leans over, his hands digging between your ass and the mattress as he suddenly pulls you to the edge of the bed, dropping to his knees before you, he throws your legs over his shoulder and looks up at you with hooded eyes, “I need to hear you first.”

You nearly combust when you feel his breath on your pussy and his lips on your inner thighs. A whimper falling from your mouth as you try to close your legs out of instinct, blushing even harder than before.

“You’re fucking soaked,” he smirks, holding your thighs open as he teasingly slips a finger through your folds, “all for me, huh?”

You don’t answer but you don’t need to, the loud moan that you let out when he dives right into you with his tongue, gives him everything he needs to know.

He moans in content as he grabs your ass roughly, eyes rolling back when he tastes you for the first time, he almost starts drooling over you, finding pleasure in this.

He teasingly licks a stripe up from your entrance to your clit, circling the tip of his tongue around your already aching nub as he uses his fingers to part your lips.

You scrunch up your face as his tongue pleases you in ways your fingers never could, sighs and whimpers start escaping you as he now presses his thumb against your clit and he starts eating you out, his moans vibrating against you.

Your mouth falls open as your back arches in pleasure, fingers digging into the sheets beneath you as you fall apart completely.

No words are spoken as you both just enjoy this moment of bliss, him getting lost in you, you getting lost in the pleasure he blesses you with.

You focus on everything and also on nothing – his whimpers send shivers through you, his tongue that he fucks you with making you gasp and drool, and despite the heaviness in your eyes, you manage to open them, wanting, needing to see him.

He eats you out slowly, yet desperately, fingers and tongue now working together to unravel you. His eyes are closed and he keeps moaning and whimpering as saliva runs down his chin. He looks so content, so pleased from only this.

Steve curls his fingers inside of you as he keeps his thumb on your clit, rubbing circles on it.

Tears of pleasure prickle in your eyes as needy sounds keep escaping you. You hold the sheets even tighter now, closing your legs around his head, caging him in between them.

Steve finally opens his eyes, they darken even more now when he sees how you are falling apart for him, it only prompts him to fuck you even harder with his tongue and his two fingers.

Your moans and whimpers are enough to drive him crazy, enough to make the erection in his pants feel painful but he wants more, he needs to hear his name falling from your lips and he gets what he wants only seconds later when your body grows tense and your back arches again as a tear rolls down your cheek.

“Steve!” You nearly scream as you come undone, writhing beneath his touch.

You tilt your head to the side, bringing your hand up to your face, you bite your teeth into your knuckles as hot tears run down your flushed cheeks.

Steve laps at your pussy, moans still falling from his mouth. Only as you whimper weakly does he pull away from you, but not without giving your clit another teasing lick, causing you to spasm which only makes him chuckle darkly.

He carefully removes your legs from his shoulders and lets go of you before he rises back to his full height.

You instantly press your legs together, breathing heavily as you try to calm down from the orgasm he just gave you.

What Steve didn’t do before was take in the sight of your bare body, and now as he does it, he has to swallow harshly, his dick twitching in his jeans, begging for release. He finds himself aching for you, even more than before, he not only wants you, he needs you in ways he can’t even describe.

He watches the way your chest glistens with sweat, your nipples hard from the pleasure that curses through your body, your eyes are shut, your brows pulled together. He licks his lips before he bites down as his eyes trace every inch of your skin, the scars that make you look even more attractive.

It takes everything in him not to drop to his knees and taste you once again.

He needs you, he needs to feel you wrapped around his dick, he needs to hear your moans as he fills you to the brim, he needs to fuck you.

Steve unbuckles his belt, the metal clinking against each other, causing you to open your eyes at the sound.

You look at him through your glassy eyes, pushing yourself up on your elbows as you watch him unbutton his pants but before he pushes them down, he reaches for his wallet in his back pocket and you watch him curiously.

He opens it to take out the condom he had prepared for a different… less exciting occasion. He hastily pushes his pants and boxers down, his dick slaps against his stomach and he fails to notice the way your eyes widen or the way your lips part in surprise at the sight, at the size of him. He steps out of his shoes, cursing under his breath as he pushes them aside before he uses both hands to part your legs, getting on the mattress.

Before he rips the foil apart, he looks into your eyes, wanting your consent first but no words have to leave his mouth because you are the first to make the move, you sit up slightly, taking the tiny foil pack from his fingers, surprising him by bringing it up to your lips and ripping it open with your teeth.

Despite the streaks of tears on your skin, the fucked out look in your eyes, the shakiness in your body, you look at him so dangerously.

And he can’t do anything but watch you in awe for a moment, how you wrap your much smaller hand around his dick, pressing your thumb against his slit to tease him.

“O-Oh fuck…” He shudders, eyes nearly closing at only that.

You bite your bottom lip, trying not to drool as you roll the condom over his length. You look up at him again to find him staring at you with flushed cheeks and lust in his eyes. It’s dark in the room, but you can see each other just well enough, the moon shines brightly into your room tonight.

You can’t even help yourself when you cup his cheeks and pull him down for a kiss, closing your eyes when your lips meet again.

He grabs your waist, making you crawl back until you’re far enough on the mattress for your head to hit the pillows when he pushes you down. He presses his hands on your knees and you part your legs eagerly for him.

His fingers trace your skin as he brings his hand up, passing your hip bone and your waist and grabbing your boob with roughness as he slips his tongue into your mouth, wanting you to taste yourself. He pinches your nipple with his fingers, smirking against you when you whine and writhe underneath him.

You reach your hand down, not wanting to waste any more seconds, you wrap your hand around his dick again, jerking him off a few times before you line him up with your entrance, whining desperately again.

Steve breaks the kiss and opens his eyes to look at you, “you’re so desperate for my cock, huh?” He breathes, still playing with your nipple.

You raise yourself up a little, pecking his lips again as you nod your head.

He can’t believe that you are this needy for him, that you are giving him those eyes.

If only he knew how many times you have dreamt of this moment.

“Please,” you whimper.

“Please what, Blondie?” He teases you as his hand now slides down your stomach, fingertips brushing your clit, making you shiver.

You blink and you breathe heavily as you place your hand on his shoulder, “please fuck me, Steve… Please…”

A satisfied smirk appears on his face, your desperation making him feel smug – but the smugness quickly dissolves into something else when he pushes inside you and feels your tightness around him for the very first time.

You breathe in harshly and hold it, shutting your eyes when you feel him stretching you out. Nothing could have prepared you for this moment, not his tongue, not his fingers, nothing. The stretch is both painful and delicious, it makes you gasp but it also makes you drool as he inches deeper and deeper.

Steve can only curse and whimper in pleasure as he watches his cock disappearing inside of you, he doesn’t push in fully though, too scared to hurt you.

He bites his bottom lip, bottoming out again before he pushes back in, listening to the wet sound and the neediness in your voice as you moan.

“M-More,” you whine, your eyes now watching him, “please…”

His dick twitches at the sound of that and at the look on your face.

“Fuck me, Steve.”

He doesn’t need to be told twice, he pushes in deeper than before, until he’s buried inside of you completely. Usually, he would take a moment to catch his breathe, to adjust to the tightness but he is too eager, too desperate for this. So he grabs your hips and he starts thrusting, slowly at first, not wanting to hurt you.

You gasp, hands finding the sheets beneath you again as your eyes follow the movement of his hips, watching the way his dick slides in and out of you. You throw your head back and look at his face next.

Strands of his hair fall in front of his eyes, his lips are puffy from all the kissing, his cheeks are flushed. He is moaning, for you, because of you. You are in utter bliss, feeling pride swell in your chest when he moans even louder as you clench around him.

He watches the way he fucks you, eyes growing darker and darker and then, he looks at your chest, the way your tits bounce from the movements, something that prompts him to move his hips even faster, fucking into you harder now.

“F-Fuck,” you whine loudly.

His eyes meet your face and the pleasure on it is suddenly not enough for him, he wants to throw you over the edge, he needs to hear you scream for him.

He curses under his breath when you clench around him again.

Steve’s knees dig into the mattress, his fingers now holding you even stronger than before, he is sure to leave bruises but you don’t mind, you would never mind. He fastens his pace, railing into you and thrusting in and out of you, making you fall apart in the matter of a few seconds. You can’t speak, even if you tried. All that you can do is moan pathetically, letting him use you.

“You take me so well, holy shit, Blondie,” he whimpers, voicing out his thoughts, brows scrunching together as he watches you, your lips parted, moans that he only ever dreamt of leaving you. “L-Look at you, fuck. If I knew that my cock would shut you up, I would’ve done this a long time ago.”

“S-Steve!” You whine with a high pitched voice, something that only leads him to pound you even harder even if a tiny part of him wants to mock you.

Your eyes roll back, the tension in your stomach rolling back in, only stronger and hotter this time, and you already don’t know what to do with yourself, but when he suddenly reaches for your legs, hooking the back of your knees around his forearms, your eyes widen when they meet his again and a wicked smirk appears on his face as he starts fucking you from a different angle, snapping his hips into yours so wildly that you can’t help but cry out as your eyelids become droopy, tears now begging to be released, just like the drool that starts coming from the corner of your mouth.

The room now filled with nothing but the dirty sounds of your skin slapping together, the squelching noises from your pussy and his pleasing moans.

Steve watches you in awe, eyes growing wide when he sees just how cockdrunk you are for him.

He fucks you recklessly, eagerly and as though it is the last thing he will ever do.

Your tears fall freely, your whimpers turning into cries the moment his thumb finds your clit again.

He feels your walls clenching around him, gripping his twitching cock tightly – and he knows you’re close, he knows that he is close but he doesn’t want to stop, he doesn’t want this moment to be over.

Steve savors every second, pounding into you roughly and harshly, grabbing your face with his left hand when your head falls to the side, he needs to watch you, he needs to see you when you cum around him.

“You wanna cum for me?” He asks breathlessly.

You nod eagerly, without letting a word fall from your lips, you only nod and whine.

You feel the overstimulation rushing through you, the fire in your stomach that is about to burst into something bigger. You can feel him everywhere, he is so deep inside of you that it makes your body shake like crazy, but it feels good, so good that it almost wants to make you cry for different reasons when you think about how this could be a one time thing.

His hand leaves your face, he throws his palm into the pillow next to you, holding it tightly as his own eyes fall shut now, moaning your name as he picks up the pace of his fingers against your clit, his hips snapping faster into yours now.

“I-I’m–”

“I know, I know…” He coos, letting his face fall into the crook of your neck.

You feel the urge to feel him even closer, so despite the weakness in your body, you use every bit of your strength to lift your hand and press it against his warm back.

“Cum for me,” he whimpers into your neck before he bites into your flesh, marking you up for anyone to see.

A loud gasp tears out of you as his last thrusts grow rougher and his fingers move faster, you can’t help but dig your nails into his back, scratching him as stars blur your vision and the shockwaves grip your body so tightly as you cum around his cock, just as he spills into the condom, moaning into your neck.

You can’t even feel your tears nor the drool still coming out of your mouth, all that you can feel is him. Your arm now falls back onto the mattress and your eyes shutting as the darkness starts to envelope you.

“F-Fuck,” he whispers as he stops moving, pressing another kiss to your neck before he pulls out of you, hissing at the feeling.

He can feel your trembling body beneath his, the sighs that keep falling from your lips, he smugly pulls away to take a look at you, only to see your eyes dropping as you start to lose your consciousness.

“Shit,” he whispers, cupping your cheeks, “you okay, Blondie?”

You nod as best as you can, slapping his hand away as you snuggle into the pillows, not even bothering with the blanket.

He scratches the back of his neck, pressing his lips together as he watches you fall asleep so quickly. He can’t help but feel smug as he looks at the way your thighs are trembling still.

He stands up, leaving the room to walk into the bathroom, where the light is still turned on. He steps inside, noticing how the mirror is a little fogged, the smell of vanilla and strawberries lingering in the air, making his stomach flutter ever so slightly.

Discarded clothes lay on the ground, he picks them up and puts them on the counter before he rolls off the condom, tying it up before he throws it into the trash. He turns towards the sink and washes his hands before he walks back into your room, a smile tugging on his lips.

He plops down beside you, pulling the cover over you and himself, scooting closer to you.

He doesn’t know where this will go or what is going to happen tomorrow but as he looks at your stained face, and every single previous second replays in his head, he is sure of one thing.

There is not a single fucking chance that this is going to be a one time thing.

♡

tagging friends and mutuals!

@prettyboyeddiemunson @taintedcigs @mysticmunson @wroteclassicaly @maroon-cardigan @munson-mjstan @sherrylyn628 @munsonlore @ibellcipem @joekeerysmoles

#steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington angst #steve harrington smut #steve harrington enemies to lovers #stranger things angst

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reputationmunson · 1 year

Text

Crossing Lines | S.H x fem!reader

part one | part two | part 3 | part 4

series summary: Steve isn’t your biggest fan, so why does he ask you to be his date to a wedding? | enemies to lovers, fake dating

chapter summary: time to meet the family!

content: you and steve go shopping, meeting his family, mentions of drinking, food mention, swearing, she/her pronouns, use of y/n, a little surprise at the end ;)

word count: 4.7k

The piercing ring of the phone wakes Steve from his deep sleep and putting a pillow over his head doesn’t drown out the sound even a little bit. He begrudgingly throws his blanket and grumbles obscenities until he reaches the phone.

“Hello?” he answers with an abrasive tone. “Good morning to you too, sunshine” your voice sounds way too happy for someone who’s awake this early. “y/n? Why the hell are you calling me this early?”

“Do you always talk to your girlfriends like this? No wonder you’re still single.’’ you tease and he lets out an overdramatic, loud sigh. “Get to the point it’s too early for this”

“It’s almost ten in the morning that isn’t exactly the break of dawn, but anyways, I need to know if you work today”

“Yeah, I do” he lies. “Liar! I already asked Robin and she told me that you’re off today” he can practically hear your ‘know-it-all-’ smirk over the phone. “I’m five seconds away from hanging up”

“Okay, okay, don’t get your panties in a twist. We need to go shopping today” you tell him and he scoffs at your words “We? Why do I need to go?”

“You said all expenses paid and I need new clothes for our couples getaway, therefore, you’re going shopping with me”

“It’s not a couple’s gateway” is all he says. “That’s all semantics, Stevie”

“Do you even know what semantics means?” he asks “do you?” you reply, turning the tables. His lips purse while he tries to thinks of an answer. He’s got nothing. “Whatever. I’ll pick you up in an hour” he hands up before giving you a chance to gloat.

Steve shows up to your house an hour and a half later and he expects nothing less than you reprimanding him for it. You walk outside wearing a dress that might be a bad idea for a breezy day like today, but it’s still a pretty dress. He tells himself that only the dress looks pretty, not the person wearing it. Your sparkly lip gloss that anyone from a mile away can see, looks pretty too, but not because it’s on your lips. He can just appreciate a nice gloss, that’s it.

“Thirty minutes late, mister. That isn’t very ‘boyfriend’ of you” you say as soon as you get into the car. “How about a ‘thank you’ for picking you up? That isn’t very ‘girlfriend’ of you” he rebuttals.

“Hush, I’m the perfect girlfriend. Can I play some music?” you ask and he turns the radio on. “Oh, I love this song!” you cheer when you change the station and ‘We Belong’ by Pat Benatar comes on. “Of course you do” he says and you roll your eyes at him while turning up the radio. In all honesty, he likes this song, but he’ll never admit that out loud.

You sing every word, not too loudly, but loud enough that Steve can hear. Your singing isn’t horrible, but he knows every time he hears this song he’s going to associate it with you. “Why are you always so grouchy? You constantly have a look on your face like someone put salt in your sugar shaker”

“Thanks for putting off your concert long enough to ask me that” he turns the radio down until there's almost no music and you turn it back up a smidge. “See! You’re a total butthead” you argue. “Butthead? Are we five?”

“That’s such a butthead response”

“Then how about we don’t talk for the rest of the car ride? Kay?” he impolitely suggests and you cross your arms. “Fine”

“Fine”

So you sit in silence for the rest of the time you’re in the car, aside from your soft singing. It drives Steve insane.

The mall was quite busy for a Tuesday and it takes Steve three loops around the parking lot to find a decent spot.

“I told you to just park in the back. We could’ve saved so much time”

“What did I say about not talking while we’re in the car?” he asks, rhetorically. You quickly step out of the car and repeat yourself “I told you to just park in the back. We could’ve saved so much time. I’m not in the car, so you can’t get mad at me! C’mon, let's go!”

Steve sighs before taking the keys out of the ignition and following behind you. Once you reach the entrance you hold your hand out to him. He looks down at your hand and back up at you “What’s that?”

“It’s a hand, Steve. Ya know, most people have one attached to the end of their arm and-”

“What do you want me to do with your hand, smartass’’ he cuts you off. “We’re supposed to be getting used to acting like a couple, so hold my hand” your hand is still held out and you shake it in front of him. “Nope. No way” he pushes your hand but you reach it out again. “Stop being a butthead, yes I said it again because you’re acting like a five year old”

He reluctantly takes your hand and your fingers lace together. “Wow, look at that. You didn’t even burst into flames” you taunt. He doesn’t hate it as much as he thought it would. Your hands are soft and he notices that your nails match the color of your dress. It’s kind of cute.

Steve tries to shield his face with his hand and you laugh at him. “That’s not gonna work. People come from all over to see that head of hair, so they’ll be able to tell that it’s you holding my hand. I hope you’ll be able to survive this tragic event”

He removes his hand from his face “People do not come from all over just to see my hair.” he grumbles. “It’s called a joke, Steve. Since I don’t think I’ve ever seen you smile whenever I’m around then I shouldn’t be surprised you didn’t know that”

“Let’s just get this over with. Where are we going first?” you drag him to the first store and Steve is convinced everyone is staring at him while he holds your hand. (literally no one is giving either of you a second glance).

“Hold this for me, baby” you hand him a sundress and he grimaces at the nickname “Is holding hands not enough? You gotta call me ‘baby’ too?” he complains. “Get used to it, baby”

After only ten minutes in the store, Steve has a stack of clothes piled in his arms. “Are you really buying all of this?” he asks. “I’m not buying anything, you are, but I have to try it on first and you have to give me your opinion”

“My opinion is that you’re going to look horrible in all of it”

“You say that now, but you’ve never seen me in this shade of pink” you point to one of the dresses in his hand that isn’t holding yours. “I’ve seen you in every shade of every color. Your closet looks like a box of crayons exploded”

“You remember what colors I have in my wardrobe? Sounds like you’re a bit obsessed with me”

“In your dreams…babe? Ugh that sounded weird. Can you try this shit on now? My arm is about to fall off” He whines. “Yeah, I wouldn't want you to break a nail. Wait outside the dressing room so I can show you how it looks” you tell him. “Can’t wait” he replies, sarcasm dripping from his tongue.

Steve checks his watch every thirty seconds because how long does it take to try on one dress?

“Spend your whole life waitin’ on your woman, don’t ya?” an older gentleman asks him. “Uh, yeah. I guess so” chuckles. “My wife, Ethel, over there” he points in the direction of where his wife stands “always takes her sweet time. After forty years of marriage I’m still always waitin’ on her, but she still looks so damn beautiful that it’s worth it”

“Harold, leave the poor boy alone, honey” His wife says when she wanders over to her husband. “No, I don’t mind. I’m just waiting for my girl to show me her new dress” Steve says. He said ‘my girl’ so naturally he didn’t even realize it until he finished his sentence.

“Steve, what do you think- oh, hi!” you greet the couple and introduce yourself. “That’s a beautiful dress, don’t ya think Steve?” Harold asks him. “y-yeah. You look great, sweetheart” he smiles. You do look great. The color of the dress compliments your skin tone perfectly and makes your eyes pop.

“How long have you two been together?” Ethel asks. “Five months” you both say at the same time. “Oh, young love. It’s truly a wonderful thing. I feel like I’m looking in a mirror from forty years ago” She expresses and puts her hand over her heart. “We’ll let you kids get back to it. Enjoy the rest of your day” Harold says. “Thank you, you too!” you respond before they walk away.

“So, um, tell me what you really thing about this dress”

“I think it looks great” he replies. “Really? No snarky comment? Did that old couple make you go all soft on me, Harrington?”

“Not in a million years. Go try the other shit on I don’t wanna be here all day” he carps. “Okay, I’m going, but don’t fall in love with me after seeing how good I look in this next one!” yeah, right he thinks.

After a fashion show and a dent in his bank account, you finally leave the store. Most of your outfits were casual, but cute and preppy enough to impress his family. You even found a dress to wear to the wedding. “I have to get a new bathing suit. Or three new bathing suits” you announce as you walk past a store with all the summer essentials. “Three? For what reason?”

“You said your family members are all staying in lake houses and I need to be prepared. I’m also assuming this fancy hotel we’re staying in has a pool” you explain. “Oh, and how come we aren’t staying in a lake house?” you wonder. “My parents weren’t gonna rent a house for just me. I even told them I was bringing my “girlfriend”, but we’re still staying in a hotel twenty minutes away from everyone” he answers. “Oh no, we’re staying in an expensive hotel with all the amenities we could ever need. Should I bring a survival kit?” you gibe.

“Just go get your swimsuits and don’t make me watch you model them” he pleads. “Why? Scared you’ll like what you see?” Yes, he thinks to himself. “Nope. Just starving. I’m gonna go grab something from the food court” he says before scurrying off.

“Hey, can I get two soft pretzels and two lemonades, please?”

“Steve Harrington?” He hears a woman's voice and turns around. “It’s me! Beth!”

“Beth, hi!” He greets. Steve went on a date with Beth a few months ago and she never called him back. He actually really liked her, too. Until she ditched him for her new boyfriend.

“How are you? Hungry?” She asks when she she's the two pretzels and drinks in his hand. “Oh, um, ones for me and ones for my… girlfriend. She’s shopping right now- oh look, there she is! Baby, I’m over here!” he waves to get your attention.

“Aw, you got me something? You’re so sweet, Stevie” you kiss his cheek and it takes everything in him to not act weirded out. “Babe, this is Beth. Beth this is my girl, y/n”

“Nice to meet you, y/n. It was good to see you, Steve” she says and saunters off. “Did you really have to kiss my cheek?” he wipes your lipgloss off of his face. “Give me a soft pretzel and I’ll do just about anything”

“Gross” he mutters, “Are you done shopping yet?” he groans. “Yes, I’m done. Thanks again for the pretzel. That was actually really nice” you smile at him. “Don’t thank me yet. I poisoned it” he jokes and you chuckle. “Thank god. Then I wouldn’t have to spend three whole days with you”

“Well, actually, we have to go up thursday” he tells you and you stop in your tracks. “Thursday? That's in two days and I have so much to do!” you exclaim. “You’ll just have to get it done a day early. It’s the least you can do after I bought you this pretzel”

“You’re impossible”

“And you’re welcome for the delicious treat and all the clothes”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever. Just take me home, please”

“Gladly”

By the time Thursday rolls around, you’re already exhausted from this weekend before it’s even started. You spent your entire day yesterday doing laundry, going to the store for travel things, packing, and mentally preparing yourself for being Steve’s “girlfriend”.

It wasn’t that pretending to be his significant other was going to be the worst thing in the world. He’s attractive and you’ve heard his personality is alright, you’ve just yet to meet that version of Steve, but you worried it would be awkward.

There’s no way you have any amount of chemistry with Steve that makes it convincing that you two are in love. He scowls at any pet name you give him, he practically freezes any time you touch him, and you’re pretty sure he’d slip into a coma if he was actually nice to you.

The sound of Steve honking his horn pulls you from your anxious thoughts. He can’t even come up and knock on your door. God forbid he helps you carry any of your luggage. He did pop the trunk for you, though, so that’s something at least.

“Is your arm broken?” you ask, sitting down in the passenger seat. “No?” he replies, confused. “I just figured since you didn’t help me carry a single thing that-”

“You’re bitching already? It hasn’t even been five minutes that must be a new record”

“your hair looks flat today” you insult and he glares at you “you do know i have traits other than my hair, right?”

“yeah, I know. just don’t care enough, is all” you state, looking at your manicure like his existence is irrelevant to you. “Right, okay. Let’s just not kill each other until we get there”

“Only if you promise to buy me snacks at the gas station” you bargain “Fine. Whatever you want”

You fell asleep halfway through the car ride and have woken up once. For some reason, Steve can’t stop himself from glancing over you. Your head is resting on the window, your lips are slightly parted, and if he didn’t already know you, he’d think you actually look kind of sweet.

“Hey” he whispers and gently shakes your shoulder to wake you up. You grunt in response and he shakes your shoulder a little more. “Wake up, we’re almost at my parents lake house” he says and you jolt awake. “We’re stopping there first? I’m not prepared for that!” you exclaim and flip down the visor mirror to make yourself look presentable.

“They said they have a surprise for us and they’re looking forward to meeting you. It’ll be fine” he puts his hand on your thigh for a split second then quickly pulls it back. “And here we are” he announces when he pulls into the driveway. It’s more of a lake mansion than a lake house, but you didn’t expect anything less. Steve opens the passenger side door for you just in case anyone is watching. He can tell you’re nervous about meeting his parents. You’ve been fiddling with the hem of your top and the look on your face isn’t exactly hiding any of your emotions.

Steve grabs your hand and you’re taken by surprise. He’s touching you without acting like there’s a gun to his head. “Ready to meet the parents?” he asks, giving your hand a squeeze “As ready as I’ll ever be”

He knocks on the door and your leg bounces, anxiously. “Hey, stop worrying. They’ll love you. Most people think you’re great. Apart from me, obviously” he jests and you snicker. You know it isn’t a big deal if his parents don’t like you. You two aren’t actually together and there's a high chance you’ll never see them again, but you have this irritating need for people’s approval. Which is a bit ironic considering your hand is currently being held by the one person who has a huge issue with you.

“Steve, honey! We’re so glad you’re here!” his mom exclaims before hugging him. “You must be y/n! It’s so nice to meet you!” she hugs you next. “It’s nice to meet you too, Mrs. Harrington”

“Oh, please, call me Joanne. Come in, I’ll get your father. George, Steve and his girlfriend are here!” she shouts when you all walk inside.

Steves’ father emerges from the back porch of the house and it’s like Steve twenty-five years from now walked in from the future. “Now, what’s someone as pretty as you doing with my son? Did you pay her Steve?” he jokes, but he has no idea how close he is to being correct. “Thanks, dad, good to see you too.” Steve grumbles. “Don’t get too upset, I know how sensitive you can be. I’m George, it’s a pleasure to meet you” he extends his hand and you shake it. “It’s great to meet you. I’m y/n”

“You’re much nicer than most girls my son dates. There was one girl-”

“Anyways, mom said you had a surprise for us” Steve interrupts his dad. “Yes, we do!” his mom says and hands Steve a key. “What’s this?” he asks as he holds the key. “Well, your father and I thought it might be romantic if you two had your own house and you’d be much closer to the family. It’s just right up the road and we cancelled your hotel reservation.”

“That’s so kind of you, Mrs. Harr- Joanne. You didn’t have to do that” you thank her and she beams at your appreciation. “Honey, we’re just so grateful that Steve has found someone that he clearly loves. You should’ve heard how he spoke about you on the phone” She tells you and Steve’s face turns beet red when you turn to look at him. “Uh, yeah, thank you. We should probably go check this out, yeah?’’ he asks and you nod.

“Once you freshen up, don’t forget we’re having dinner here tonight!” Joanne reminds the both of you before saying your goodbyes. Your nerves come back when you think about meeting the rest of his family.

“So… what did you say about me on the phone?” you ask once you both step outside. “I don’t even remember. I didn’t really say much” he lies, but he doesn’t want you to know just in case you get the wrong impression that he might not dislike you as much as you think he does. “Keep your secrets, then. Let's go check out our house!” you squeal and run to the car.

“Oh my gosh, it’s so cute!” you say as you pull into the driveway. The house is smaller than the others, but the ideal size for two people. There’s a porch that overlooks the lake with two rocking chairs and a coffee table. It’s perfect for watching the sun rise and set.

It does make you a little sad that if you weren’t here, Steve would be all alone in a hotel while the rest of his family was within walking distance. Why wouldn’t he stay with his parents? or another family member? “Did you hear me?” he asks, bringing you back from all the questioning going on in your mind.“No, sorry. What did ya say?”

“I asked if you’re ready to go inside. I’ll help you with your bags this time”

“Yeah, thanks.” you grin and get out of the car.

The inside of the house is as beautiful as the outside. It’s cozy and inviting. If Steve was your boyfriend, it would be very romantic. “So, only one bedroom I suppose,” Steve speaks up. “I’ll take the couch” he volunteers.

“Steve, I can already tell you’re too tall for that couch. I’ll take it”

“No, it’s fine. I don’t mind”

“Or we could be adults and share the bed? It’s big enough that you won’t even come close to touching me” you assure him. “If you wanted to sleep next to me, all you had to do was ask” he smirks and your nose scrunches in disgust. “Shut up, I’m trying to be nice to you”

“Let’s unpack before we have to go to dinner. Are you nervous about meeting everyone else?” he asks as you throw your luggage on the bed so you can unpack your bags. “Yeah, I guess. Is there anything I should know?” you question. “Not really. My parents seemed to like you, so they’ve probably already put in a good word.”

The rest of the time you spend unpacking and getting ready is spent in silence. It isn’t either an awkward or comfortable silence. It’s like neither of you are there, not acknowledging each other unless absolutely necessary.

You and Steve decide to walk to his parents since it’s such a pleasant evening. The sound of the lake is peaceful and the moonlight illuminates your surroundings so perfectly that it makes the street lamps needless. “It really is lovely out here” you say and Steve hums in agreement. “Are you nervous, Steve? About seeing your family? You ask and he lets out a sigh that he’s been holding in for a while. “Kind of, but they’re probably gonna be more focused on you”

“Do you wanna talk about it?” you offer and he shakes his head. “Nah, that’s alright. We’re almost there anyway” When you walk through the door of the house, Steve places his hand on the small of your back. Only for appearances, clearly. “We’re here” he announces and his family comes over to greet you.

“You must be y/n! I’m Linda, Steve’s aunt. We’ve heard many great things about you!” You make your way through all introductions followed by a million it’s nice to meet you too’s. His family is bigger than you expected and you can definitely tell that they have money just by looking at them.

You’re finally offered a glass of wine and happily accept. “Here, Steve, it’s an old-fashioned. The real man's drink” His father hands him a glass and he has to stop himself from chugging it.

“We are all dying to know how you two met” Steve’s aunt says to you once you and Steve are in the kitchen. It seems like everyone is gathered in the kitchen to hear the story. Steve looks a little lost so you decide you’ll take the lead on this one.

“Well, we met through mutual friends and Steve was terrible at attempting to flirt with me. I thought he was just so cute and one night I got stood up on a blind date and Steve came to my rescue and the rest is history” you wrap your arm around his back and his arm wraps around your shoulder. He can’t believe how quickly you came up with that. Your story is met with many ‘aws’ and Steve mouths a ‘thank you’ when no one is looking.

“I like your dress’’ you hear a small voice come from behind you and you turn around to see the most adorable toddler with pigtails. “Thank you, sweetie. I like your hair” you bend down to eye level with her. “I’m y/n. What’s your name?”. “Penelope. I’m this many” She holds up three fingers and you smile. “Do y’wanna color with me?” she asks and you follow her to the table she was coloring at.

“Are you married to Steve?”

“Nope, not married, but I am his girlfriend” it still feels weird to say that. “Okay. You can use my crayons”

Steve watched this interaction from the kitchen. He thinks the drink is already starting to go to his head because he thinks it's absolutely adorable. You’re a natural with kids and with his family. He can’t tell if it’s all part of the act or if you are actually this amazing.

Dinner goes smoothly with the help of several alcoholic beverages. Steve’s hand has been on your thigh throughout the entire meal and he didn’t act bothered by it at all. Maybe his acting skills aren’t so abysmal after all.

“Can I help you wash up?” you ask his mom as she cleans up the kitchen. “That would be wonderful, dear.”

“Penelope adores you, by the way. She’s always been a little shy and she warmed up to you just like that.” She tells you. “She’s a sweet kid. I was like that when I was younger. Shy, I mean. Guess I still am” a small chuckle escapes your throat. “Well, no worries about that. The family loves you” She assures you and you give her a kind smile.

“Ready to go, babe?” Steve asks you. “Go on, I’ll make George help with cleanup” His mom hugs you both and his hand holds yours as you say your goodbyes to everyone.

“That wine got to me, I think. I feel all warm and fuzzy” you say with a giggle. Steve still hasn’t let go of your hand even though you're halfway back to the house by now. “I know what you mean. You were great, by the way. Pretty sure they’re convinced we’re in love.”

“Wow, you’re complimenting me? You must definitely be tipsy” you laugh. “And you’re still holding my hand so you’re absolutely toasted” he quips. “m’not. I just might fall over if you let go” so he doesn’t let go, not until you’re both inside the bedroom.

Once you both climb into bed, there’s more than a respectable distance between you and Steve. For some reason, a strange thought crosses your mind and you have the biggest urge to bring it up. “Hey, Steve?”

“Hm?”

“I thought of something we haven’t practiced yet and it’s kinda weird, but hear me out”

“Okay…I’m listening” he says, sounding a little suspicious. “Do you think it’ll be weird if we don’t kiss? Nothing crazy just a couple pecks here and there” he sits up and turns on the bedside table lamp. “You wanna makeout in front of my family?”

“No! Of course not. I said peck” he doesn’t respond and you’ve never felt more embarrassed in your life.

“Okay. Yeah, we probably should practice it. Ya know, just to be convincing” he finally speaks up. “Yeah. Just to be convincing.” you both sit up and scoot closer to each other. “Wait! Can you turn off the light?” you request and he quickly turns off the light.

You feel Steve’s hand resting on your cheek and your heart thumps in your chest out of nerves, not anything else, that’s for sure. “Ready?” he asks “Ready”

His lips brush yours and linger for a few seconds before he places his lips on yours in a proper kiss. It’s a simple kiss. There’s no tongue, obviously, and it feels like it’s over before it's even started.

“Wait, sorry. Let me try again” he says. He kisses you again and it’s still simple, but this time your lips move together in a harmonious agreement. His body moves closer to yours and you feel yourself slipping away, like you’ve forgotten that you’re kissing Steve Harrington. Someone that you aren’t supposed to be kissing.

He pulls back as he feels that the kiss might grow more intense. You’re left breathless and stunned, but Steve doesn’t seem to be as affected as you are, but he is. His palms are sweaty and his heart feels like it might jump out of his throat. He nonchalantly rolls over back to his side while you stay in the same position, staring at his silhouette.

“Goodnight, y/n”

“y-yeah, goodnight”

a/n: IT’LL GET JUCIER SOON I PROMISE

taglist: @freezaz123 @lovelyimpossibleobservation @johnricharddeacy @mjtalksaboutanything @nix-rose-q @eternallyvenus (i hope i didn't miss anyone!)

#steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x fem!reader #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington x you #steve harrington fic #steve harrington series #steve harrington enemies to lovers #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington #steve harrington angst #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington smut #steve harrington stranger things #stranger things fic

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m-2243 · 1 year

Text

The results are in!!

My next fic will be an enemies to lovers ! Now…

I just want as much reader input as possible so people will actually enjoy this. Thank you to everyone who voted on the last one!

#stranger things #steve harrington #steve x reader #steve harrington x reader smut #steve harrington x reader #stranger things 4 #eddie munson #robin buckley #steve Harrington enemies to lovers #enemies to lovers

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curiositydooropened · 5 months

Text

Wildfire • Inferno

The last march into the Ether is fraught with uncertainty. You stumble forward, partner and friends by your side.

Pairing: Steve Harrington x Reader

Chapter Wordcount: 10,887

Warnings: This chapter contains gore and horror, including character injury and allusions to character death. • enemies/rivals to lovers, second chance romance, slowburn, unrequited love, so much pining, blood, gore, character death, best friend!disabled!Eddie Munson, character injuries, trauma, PTSD, hallucinations, drowning, concussion, hurt/comfort, fire, panic attacks, insomnia

Fic Masterlist • Navigation • Masterlist

Chapter Six: Combustion

---

THEN

May 1988

The woods sprawled forever, rows of monotonous chaos stretched to a sunless sky. You scrambled through, boots squelching in inexplicably moist soil as you toed over the twist of vines and fallen limbs. A shock of orange guided your way, a light in the greyscale abyss, just out of reach, dipping into underbrush and up the hillside.

You’d made this trek through dozens of times, the steady climb from Roane County Farms to Mary Hill Lane. Countless nights of your youth were spent feeding cows apples from your pockets and scurrying home before the sun crested its final valley.

You knew the resemblances were eery. The first time you’d stepped into this horrible place, the first time you felt the pull at your navel and the spin in your skull, you’d been nauseated by the carbon copy version of the town you called home. Grocery stores and public libraries crumbled beneath the weight of disembodied tentacles. City sidewalks crumbled beneath your feet. And even after all this time, after countless trips through the portal into the Hellscape, the similarities to your childhood never ceased to unsettle your stomach and itch like anxiety in your chest.

A different panic clawed there now, making the ascent more difficult. Your pack weighed you down, and your mask hung from your throat, lungs burning with strain and inhaling toxic air.

“Vickie!” You cried out for her again, your voice hoarse and cracked. A handful of mulch fell away to make room for your boot, and you pulled yourself up through the tree line and onto Mary Hill Lane.

The asphalt was torn up, a pot hole down the center of the little lane, right where they’d patched it that summer you turned 8. You used to take turns jumping it on your bikes. Once, Vickie hit the lip, and her frail little body went flying over the handlebars. You watched the blood ooze from her knobby knees in horror, and admitted delight, and helped her limp her bicycle two doors down to her house.

A wave of orange flickered in your periphery, and you steeled your breath. Two houses down, with pale yellow siding and a metal storm door, was your best friend’s childhood home. It hadn’t changed since her family moved to the little neighboring town of Hawkins. The tree out front was a little taller, the grass a little sparser, and of course the entire facade was succumbing to the overgrowth of demonic vines that curled and whipped beneath the shutters and peeled back the roofing tiles.

There was a residual off to the Ether, the dip in your stomach that never left once you’d crossed the gaping maw threshold, but now, staring up at a home you grew up in, the off settled into your ribcage like a bad breakfast. “Vickie,” you whispered, following your feet to her driveway. “What the Hell are you thinking?”

You reached over your shoulder to remove the flamethrower from its holster. Your hands shook around the cold metal. You tried to even out your breathing, panic clinging like condensation to your neck.

Bang! Something large smacked against the garage door, rattling the whole thing on its hinges.

You scrambled backwards, foot slipping on a rogue bit of gravel. You gasped, catching your fall before you heard another loud thwack to the door.

Then you saw her. Grimy, fogged glass lined one of the garage panels, through which you caught the terrified look of your best friend, a shock of orange and pale skin.

You called out to her, ran to the door, smacked your fingers against the glass.

“No,” she shook her head, slamming her hands into the other side of the wall. “Get out of here! Run!”

“Vick? What’s going on?” You shook your head. “Are you trapped? Stand back, I’m going to torch it.” You squared up, readjusting the trigger behind your forefinger.

“No!” She cried out again. “You don’t understand. You need to run.”

“Is there something in there?” You asked, trying to peer between her and a stack of boxes to look within the confines of the garage.

“Yes.” She said. “Me.”

She disappeared for a moment before she lifted the garage door, one strong push to expose herself and the rotting boxes abandoned beside her.

“What the Hell is wrong with you?” You growled, dropping the weapon to your side.

“She’s stronger than she looks,” she said, stance square. There was something in her eye that tickled at the base of your skull, sent a shiver down your spine.

“Vic?”

“Really, your friend held on for so long. She really tried to fight. The two of you had years of good memories for me to lose her in.”

Years of training stalled your reaction, running through your mind in reverse, hours spent on the Scorch course echoing in your skull. You raised your weapon again, and her name left your throat in a whisper.

“You wouldn’t burn sweet, innocent Vickie would you?” She took wide strides your direction, hands in the pockets of her pants. “Not here. Remember when we called this place home. You and I?”

You scrambled for the walkie on your shoulder, hands trembling. “Team Lead to Scorch team, requesting emergency evac.”

“Yes, yes, bring in the troops,” she smirked, something miserable and uncanny, something so un-her.

Steve’s voice echoed through the speaker, startling you. “Where are you?”

“Roane County, Mary Hill Lane. Quarantine required.”

“Her old house? Is Vickie okay? Vickie?” Robin’s voice called out before Steve cut her off.

“Copy that. We’re on our way.”

“R-Robin?” Vickie’s voice broke, and you noticed a distinct change in her demeanor. Her teeth were grit, fists clenched and shaking at her sides.

You caught her gaze, eyes filled with terror, and took a few steps closer.

“NO!” She cried out, holding a hand up to stop you. Tears welled in her eyes, spilled over, tracked through the ash on freckled cheeks. She whispered your name, bottom lip trembling beneath her two front teeth. “You have to do it.”

“Vickie, no. Just hold on. Steve and Robin will be there soon. We’ll take you back and -”

“It’s too late,” her voice cracked. “He’s in here, and I can’t hold him back much longer. You know I love you, right?”

“Vickie, stop it.” You shook your head, tasting salt. You didn’t realize you’d started crying as well.

“Please?”

You shook your head again, obstinate, every bit of you fighting the pleading look in her eyes, fighting the sad smile on her face, fighting the way she said your name.

—

NOW

October 1988

Your blindfold was made of wool, something thick and itchy against your nose and the tips of your ears. You scratched at it, exposing a sliver of light, and you hand was promptly snatched away.

“Will you stop that?” Steve huffed, voice a warm rumble to your left year.

“I’m not going to take it off,” you grumbled.

Your anxiety had peaked the moment he put it on, relieved only temporarily when he pressed his lips against yours. Then, you were promptly carted down the clanging elevator and shoved past a sea of whispers until a heavy steel door was opened, and brisk autumn air caressed your cheeks.

The familiar rumble of a truck bed chattered your bones, knees knocking against various others’. You sat in silence, sensing a handful of watchful eyes. You were desperate to ignore the gnawing at your brainstem, the villain clawing himself to the surface, desperate for air, for a hint. You focused, instead, on your breathing, on the warmth of Steve’s hand in your own, of the buzz in your fingertips and the weight of something that had been strapped to your back.

Steve’s grip tightened as you came rolling to a halt. Engines idled. The smell of diesel fuel burned at your nostrils. Your stomach churned.

Your partner pulled you upright with a strong hand beneath your armpit, and you teetered on your feet as the balance shifted with each body that jumped from the bed to the dusty ground below.

“Wait here,” he muttered, and then released your hand.

Panic curled into your organs. You reached out for him again, listening for the fall of his feet. Cold replaced him beside you. The ground shifting beneath you. You extended your toe until it hit something, a wheel-well, by the sound of it, maybe a tailgate.

A hand found yours again and pulled you to the cool metal. The machine trembled beneath your clammy fingertips.

“Sit here, swing your legs over. I’m going to catch you, okay?”

“I don’t need to be caught,” you scoffed, though you followed instructions, feet dangling over the bed’s ledge until you slid into Harrington’s strong grip.

“Shut up,” he grumbled, gentling setting your feet to pavement.

You shoved at his chest, and promptly chased him until his hand slipped firmly into yours again.

“Dudes!” A familiar voice called from not-too-far away, and you felt yourself led toward them.

A fist tapped your shoulder, and the sickly sweet smell of marijuana filled your senses.

“Argyle?” You smiled.

“You got it, dude.” You could hear the smile in his voice. “Hey, remember that time we played those pranks on Munson?”

The levity of his sentiment didn’t match the intensity of the situation you were all stepping into, and it caught you off guard. Your memory strained to strum up images of hiding Eddie’s notebook and replacing it with a replica you and Argyle had doodled crude images in. That felt a lifetime ago, when you were all just kids caught up in a war you didn’t understand.

“Well, that gave me the idea to doodle a dick on the dragon on his new notebook.” Argyle spoke it like a confession, whispered to you from around your veil, words muffled by the thick fabric.

You crinkled your nose. “You did?”

“Yeah,” he barked out a laugh. “So you’ll have to come back to see the look on his face when he sees it.”

The fear that had settled like a pit in your gut fluttered a little, a glimmer of a heartbeat added to the future you weren’t certain you’d have.

“Deal,” you choked out, and you felt a hand reach into yours to shake on it.

“Harrington!” Someone yelled from a few yards away, and you free hand was tugged with careful instructions to follow. You bid Argyle goodbye and stumbled after Steve, slow steps dragged along dusty streets.

You couldn’t tell the direction, though something deep in you longed for them. Something wondered if you could peer beneath the blindfold and make out a location based on the stones you kicked along with the steel toes of your boots. Something sensed the wind caressing your cheeks, your chest, wondered if it blew in an Easterly direction.

Another warm body pulled up beside you, blocking the wind. Your shoulders fell in gratitude. You hadn’t realized you’d hiked them up.

“Mind if I lean on you?” Byers muttered, wrapping a soft hand against the crook of your elbow.

You shook your head and accommodated for his weight. You noticed a limp in the sound of his walk, slowed your gait to match his. Another spring of panic fluttered at your chest. “No offense, Jonathan, but… should you be going on this mission? How’s your leg?” You squeezed Steve’s hand on your other side.

He squeezed back.

“Remember that day we took bets on the mats? The one where you wiped the floor with Harrington?”

“Alright,” Steve huffed on your other side.

You snickered, remembering the flow of cash into the hands of your best friends. High fives were exchanged. Munson had set up a hydration station in your corner to fan you off between rounds.

“I won like five hundred bucks thanks to you, you know?” Byers spoke softly beside you, breath a little labored.

“Oh yeah?” You swallowed back a lump. “Sounds like a deserve a cut of that.”

He laughed at that, Steve too. “Yeah, you do. Here’s the deal. You kick major ass in there, I’ll give you three hundred.”

“Double or nothing?” Steve said over your head.

“Deal,” Jonathan chuckled and squeezed again at the meat of your bicep. “What do you say?”

“Yeah, okay, deal.” Your voice sounded hoarse. When Jonathan released you, you nearly halted your walk to stay with him, but Steve tugged you along with a firm grip, and you stayed in line with the footfall all around you.

You kept your eyes squeezed closed, resisting the temptation to gain some sort of bearing. You thought of Argyle’s doodles and Byers the bookie and tried to push back the emotion clawing to escape you.

Then you felt it, the pull. You’d felt it before, dozens of times, that warped tug of gravity that started from behind your navel and led you onwards and upside downwards. It had to be close. You felt the pulse of a gaping maw as if it were your own, the steady thrum-thrum of a heartbeat. Or two heartbeats, in tandem to the pulse you felt in Steve’s wrist against your own. Or three heartbeats, the rhythm of dozens of soldiers falling into line.

A familiar voice called your name from up ahead, and you heard the stamping of feet as someone approached, others moving out of their way. “Hey,” Wheeler breathed. “Have you figured out what we’re doing yet?”

You couldn’t respond, overcome with emotion and terror, that call of the Ether drawing you closer with each step.

Nancy fell in sync beside you. “Remember our first run in the Scorch course? Me, you, Vickie, Robin?”

You remembered being terrified at the prospect of setting monsters ablaze. You remembered spying an intimate “good luck” between Steve and Nancy before she went in with you. You remembered Vickie and Robin exchanging nervous smiles. You remembered sweaty palms around a weapon you’d never used, and you remembered the heat that licked at your skin.

“We did it in record time, and they were still extinguishing three hours later.”

“Nancy, I…” You weren’t sure what to say, exactly, couldn’t understand the meaning.

“Us girls have to stick together.” She stuck a bony elbow to your side, then she shouted. “Ready? Let’s go. Battle stations, everyone. You know what to do.”

You heard the unsettling squelch of vines, the clearing of a membrane from the jaws of the gate, and the tug of your arm halted you. “Steve?” You muttered. “What’s going on?”

“We’re going in,” his breath was warm against your ear, and he brought your hand to his chest. His heartbeat was rapid, racing your own to the finish line you couldn’t see, couldn’t fathom.

Your mouth was dry. Things within you battled: the urge to turn heel and run and the urge to go diving headfirst into the Ether, into the frigid embrace.

“I’ll never forget the first time you pinned me to the mats,” he spoke soft, catching you off-guard. You could feel his smile against your ear, the upturn of his lips. “You knocked the wind clear out of me, had me seeing stars, and then you leaned over me to help me up. You had this big, beautiful grin on your face, like you’d never had more fun in your entire life. Robin was doubled-over laughing in the corner.”

“Steve,” you breathed, clutching at the soft fabric of his shirt.

“But when you asked me if I was ready for round two, that’s when I knew I was in love with you.”

“Harrington,” you grit your teeth, slammed your eyes shut. The pulse compelled you. Vines like tendrils slithering beneath booted feet to find you.

“Because I knew you were resilient, and any bullshit I could throw at you, you could survive. Are you listening to me?”

“Steve, are we ready?” Nancy called from several feet away, voice drowned by the thundering in your ears.

“You have to fight him, okay? I promise I will protect you, but you have to promise me you’ll fight back, that you won’t give up. Do you promise me?” He was holding your face now, large hands on either cheek, and you longed to see his brown eyes again, that furrow between his brow.

“I promise,” you nodded, and his lips were against yours, hot and soft, and then they weren’t, and you were chasing for his touch.

He hooked something into your belt, and you felt cold plastic, with a long cord attached. “Whatever you do, don’t take your blindfold off, or these,” he tugged headphones over your head, the foam around the ears amplifying the pounding of your heart. “I will stay as close to you as I can, but you just need to trust that I’ll be there to protect you. Are you ready?”

Again, the opposing forces within you pulled in separate directions. All at once, your senses will filled with pop music and panic that you had to swallow back as Steve took you by the hand and led you once more toward the door between worlds.

—

The Ether smelled damp, like mildew, the rotting flesh of vegetation left to spoil. It tasted of ash and ruin. Static lingered in the air, clung clothes to your skin. The music in your ears was muffled, somehow, like there was too much room for sound waves to travel, so they thinned out and became tinny. The blindfold itched at your nose, and you stood alone, cold, in a void.

You tried to focus on the happy memories your friends had presented to you, but with every chill that wracked through you, all you thought of was her.

That shock of orange had been extinguished, had vanished into the grime of this Earth, had smoked out. Happy memories of her turned to ash at your fingertips, laughter to choked screams.

Then, you smelled gasoline, sweet and strong. You were used to the fumes, that chemical after burn with each torch of the flamethrower, but this was stronger. This stung at your nostrils, made your mouth water. You took a few steps forward to ensure you hadn’t stepped in it and were waiting for someone to light a match.

You felt dizzy with it, that wobble as you walked. You called out for Steve, unable to hear your own voice though the music. You received no response, felt no tug on your arm, no warm hand to your waist. You were only cold, and you were all alone.

He’d left you. He made a promise he couldn’t keep, just like Vickie had, and you supposed like you had to them.

Then came the rumble, that slow wave of nausea that drifted from far-off, from mountain tops and Great Lakes, that cosmic sway of land that chattered your teeth and sent you off-kilter, to your knees. You caught yourself on a hand, feeling the snap of your wrist beneath your weight as the Earth continued to rock beneath you. You cried out, though you couldn’t hear it over shrill music.

Then you felt it, the searing agony of torched vines, every vein and nerve ending ablaze, punching the air from your lungs. Screams rippled through you, not yours but the screams of others, of them, agonizing, writhing in horror, screams from gaping mouths with rows and rows of jagged teeth, and you were them and they were you, and you felt it all.

You thought you might rip in two from the pain, maybe you already had, and you lie prone against a cold, hard ground, willing your body to push it away. Everything in you scorched, and everything in you begging to fight. How could you fight fire? How could you fight an unseen force?

Desperate for air, you ripped your blindfold from your face and stared up into a storm-filled sky. Bright red lightning flashed inside a black, billowing cloud. Your eyes ached at the orange glow, and when you turned your head, you came face-to-face with an entire forest ablaze.

It caught like wildfire, an inferno that scorched the Earth. Beautiful bright whites and yellows, oranges and reds painted the night sky, casting the forest in silhouette as limbs groaned and trees crashed down upon an army of soldiers.

You sucked in a breath, sputtering to the sand as you rolled over to gain your footing. Your wrist cried out under your weight, but your vision had shifted again.

It was as though you ran through the woods, double time, rushing to escape the fire. It was as though you flew through smoke filled skies. Your targets wore tactical attire and carried flamethrowers on their backs, and millions of teeth sunk into them, filling your mouth with the taste of their blood.

Something found your ankle, a thick vine that wrapped itself there and pulled until you slammed back into the pavement. You squeezed your eyes shut and kicked at it until you felt the satisfying squelch, the burst of ice cold liquid, and you scrambled away until another could find you.

Then your eyes were on him: Steve torching the wood. His face was tanned, dripping with sweat and grime. He picked up a barrel and threw it into the trees, shielding his face from the explosion as Nancy cocked her rifle and hit her target. Only, you were looking at Steve from an odd angle, and you reached out a clawed hand toward him.

“Steve!” You cried out, but it was too late. The demogorgon’s claws pulled through his chest to the bone.

Nancy fired rounds into the creature until it had backed into a truck. From there, it was blown to pieces.

You watched them now, from a few yards away, unable to lift yourself from the ground. She tended his wounds, and he staggered, glancing your direction. Tears stung in your eyes. Somewhere nearby, a song echoed through tattered headphones. Behind your eyelids, allies were being ripped open, guts spilling to the forest floor, but the fire raged on.

—

The pain subsided, and all was numb and black and void.

You sat at a desk, sunlight filtering in through a window overlooking the woods. You had a pencil in one hand. Times tables were etched into the paper in front of you. The lines of the numbers flipped and blurred, and you stuffed your tongue between your teeth in frustration. God, you were so stupid.

Your mother called from down the hall. Dinnertime.

You set your pencil down, and it rolled across the desk top before halting against a terrarium.

You stood and stretched, rubbed at bleary eyes. You pulled your sweater from the back of your chair and swung it over bare shoulders.

You crossed to your door, traced the wallpaper in your hallway with fingertips like you did every evening.

Dad’s chair was empty as you passed the living room. The television played something dull and quiet, reruns.

You rounded to the dining room, table stacked with food for two. Dad must be on another work trip.

Light filtered in through the sliding glass door. Winter had just begun. The leaves had all browned and fallen. The trees stood like soldiers, all limbs and armor.

You took your seat at the table and sipped the carbonation from your soda. The bubbles fizzed at your nose, and you itched at it before dumping a heaping spoonful of mashed potatoes to your plate.

A slam at the glass door startled you, and you looked up to find Vickie. She looked different, old and grizzled. Her jaw was sharper, the muscles in her arms more defined. She rolled her eyes and peeled the door open. It rolled on its track, and she let herself in.

“This is where he’s keeping you?”

“Wh-what?” You blinked back at her, wondering if the times tables had messed with your head.

“Vecna, come on, idiot. You’re flayed. He’s got you by the strings, and he holed you up in the third grade for some reason. Do you have any idea how long it took me to find you?”

Her words processed like sludge, letters mixing and swapping like they had on the page.

She leaned over to dip her finger into the bowl of mashed potatoes. She tasted it and blanched, spewing the soft white back onto your plate. “Jesus, there are some tricks he really can’t master. Now come on, we don’t have much time. You need to snap out of this.”

She tugged at your wrist, and you cried out, a sharp pain zipping through you. You stared down at the tender and bruising limb.

“That’s a good start,” she nodded. She glanced out at the backyard, forehead creasing in thought before clicking her fingers together. “Quick, think about Steve.”

“Who?” You winced, nursing the dull ache in your wrist with a gentle touch.

“Harrington. You know, big brown eyes, floppy ears, a tail that wags when you pay him attention.”

“What?” Everything felt fuzzy, a slog of jumbled words that fell from soft lips and onto deaf ears. You hadn’t remember Mom giving you cough syrup, but perhaps you had a cold.

With a groan, Vickie grabbed you by the shoulders and lifted you from your seat. She shook you a little. “Come on, damnit, remember. You aren’t here in your mom’s kitchen, you’re in the Ether. The Scorch Team is blowing it up. A demogorgon got Steve, and I have a feeling he’s going to die if you don’t snap out of this.”

“Steve?”

You saw a flash of him staggering toward you, Kevlar shredded, blood tainting the inner corners of his perfect lips.

“Steve!” You cried out, but you were back in the dining room. The breaker had been flipped, everything dark, everything caked in a layer of rot and decay. Everything but Vickie.

“Nicely done,” she grinned, yanking at the sliding glass door. “Let’s get out of here!”

You didn’t hesitate to follow, staring up at the sky scapes of your mind as they began to implode. The woods beyond turned to the craggy, rocky shores of your grandmother’s beach house, and as you stepped through the bog water that had filled your backyard, everything turned to concrete and asphalt and tar.

“Yeah, this’ll do,” Vickie’s sneakers slapped against the tarmac as she ran toward the compound.

You took off after her, wind sweeping at you like wispy tendrils, desperate to hold you in place. “What do we do now? How do we trap him?”

“I don’t think we do,” she responded. “It’s kind of like a lucid dream. You’re in charge in here. We just have to get rid of all the places he can hide.” She bypassed a passcode to unlock a familiar steel door and held it open for you to go inside.

You entered the small hallway, floor-to-ceiling munitions lockers. “And how do we do that?”

“Well,” one locker opened with a creak, “they’re blowing his shit up on the outside. Maybe it’s time to turn the heat up in here, too.” She reached in and procured a flamethrower.

—

You scorched the Earth. You set fire to the Roan River bed where Vickie had tumbled. You set fire to the little covered bridge and all the horrors that lay within. You set fire to the little farmhouse where you lost her. You set fire to the woods that surrounded your childhood home, to the little fenced in backyard, the rope and plank that swung from the oak down the street. You torched the roof and watched it crumble inward over mashed potatoes and the tv turned to static in the corner. You watched the pages of a times table curl and fall to dust.

“Making record time,” Vickie grinned, slapping a hand to your shoulder. “Just like Nancy said. Us girls really do make a good team.”

She turned from you and began to jog down the little lane, pack bouncing, light on her feet as though the world wasn’t crashing down around her.

When you didn’t follow, she turned, fire lighting her eyes, and gestured for you to join. “You coming or what?”

The flames made no sound as they consumed your house, a dreamscape of embers in reds and oranges and yellows to the ringing in your ears. The roof fell first, like the house that nearly ate Steve, and then the windows burst and the walls came next. As the fire spilled out across the front yard, chewing at tires and overtaking flowerbeds, you stumbled backwards to join Vickie in the lane.

“One last stop,” she promised, intertwining her fingers in your own.

“How do you know that’s enough?” You asked with a frown, wheezing a cough into your free hand. Your wrist ached, and the purpling bruise was beginning to crawl up your arm. Your chest felt tight, and the faster you ran, the harder it felt to breathe. The smell of gasoline filled your nostrils.

“We’re running out of time,” she smiled sadly and turned into the driveway of her own childhood home, the place you found her, the place you watched the life leave her eyes.

“Vickie,” you warned, screeching to a halt just at the end of the driveway, where concrete turned to rubble. Looking to your left, you saw the pothole. To the right, flames had spilled to the neighbor’s house.

“Don’t be a baby. This is his favorite place to hide. We have to make it uninhabitable.” She explained, stacking lawn furniture to a pile between the garage and house.

It was his favorite place to hide because it was your worst memory, the place you refused to go back to, the truths you kept hidden under lock and key.

Something went boom far in the distance. Your ears rang again, and they hurt. Something hot and wet splattered your right cheek. You reached up to find blood spilling from your ear. “Vickie!”

“Hurry!” She removed her pack, added it to the pile.

“What’re you doing?” You crossed the driveway as she opened a can of lighter fluid from beside the grill and began trailing it across the closed garage door. She splashed some onto her shoes. The cuffs of her pants were soaked in it. “Be careful!”

She looked up at you then, a sadness behind the mischief in her eyes, and she shook her head. “Don’t you get it? It’s me. He’s hiding himself in me. I’m the safe space for him. He knows you’ll never touch me. You’ll hide from him in the good memories: the pranks with Eddie, the bets with Jonathan, the sing-a-longs with Robin. He’ll hide from you here, with me.”

Another boom rocked the world around you in ripples. Scratches clawed themselves into your right side, your cheek, your chest, your arm as shrapnel lodged itself within your skin.

Vickie rushed to your side, wiped blood from your cheek with a thumb. “Hey, I love you, and I will always be with you in your heart and your good memories, but this?” She gestured to the pile of furniture, to the scorch mark in the drive. “You need to let this go.”

You wheezed another cough, violence that clawed at your insides, squeezing every drop from you.

“Go back to Steve. Get yourself out of this Hell hole, as far away as you can, you hear me? Get married, have a dozen babies. Follow your dreams. Live the life I didn’t get to. Promise me?” She touched her nose to yours. “I love you.”

“I love you,” you managed, though tears blurred your vision and smoke choked at your lungs.

She kissed your forehead and took ten paces back, until her feet were touching the spilled can of fluid that had begun to weep down the driveway. “You promise?” She called.

You nodded, hands trembling as you lifted the flamethrower. “Promise.”

“Good,” her face lit with that mischievous grin, a smile of peace and of love, and she maintained it as the flames engulfed her.

—

Your ears rang, and your body thrummed, and every nerve in your body stood at attention. The smell of burning flesh and gasoline stung acrid in your nostrils. You blinked your eyes open, expecting the bright oranges of flames and finding only grey, only smoke, and then two big, brown eyes.

Steve came crashing into focus, and you pulled him into you with desperate hands. The side of his face was torn and bleeding. Thick, dark red spilled down his jaw and throat to gaping cuts across his chest and abdomen, but he was crouched over you, and he was mouthing something. No, maybe he was screaming.

He looked beyond you before he covered you with his body, and you felt the rain of something down on top the both of you.

After a long moment’s rest, you shoved at him, desperate to find his eyes again, and he sat up and looked around before he pulled you both to your feet.

The Ether was chaos all around you, a cloud of smoke and ash. Soldiers and monsters alike disappeared and reappeared through the cloud in flashes of thunder-less lightning and the splatter of blood.

You ducked into the crook of Steve’s arm and followed his lead as he ran, both of you a little wobbly, dodging vehicles and bodies.

He tripped over a vine, and you caught him under the arm, pulling him upright again so you could continue your journey. He stopped, peering around once more, shouting into the smoke cloud with a hand over his mouth until he was doubled over in a wheezing cough. You covered your own mouth with the crook of your elbow, but the smoke was too much, and the oxygen too small.

You threw yourself to the ground and pulled him too, breathing what air lie between particles of sand in the empty lake bed.

Steve lie beside you, eyes fluttering with exhaustion and defeat, and he leaned sideways to thumb blood from a stinging wound on your cheek.

That’s when you noticed the vines. Thick, black, oozing with ichor and something fouler smelling than the ash and smoke, these vines were reaching for something, crawling for air of their own.

You yanked on Steve’s sleeve and pointed to them, and the two of you crawled after the vines to the edge of a gaping wound in the sandbar.

The membrane had been popped and water bubbled below, steady waves that brought forth the prospect of life, of fresh air, of home.

Steve threaded his fingers through yours and nodded, spoke words you couldn’t hear. “I won’t let go.”

You nodded and took as deep a breath as you could muster before diving headfirst through the portal to the waters below.

—

Righting yourself felt different without gravity, the weightless tug of your body that begged to be back on the other side, back where up was up and down was down. But here? In the void of frigid cold and screaming wounds, of empty lungs? Your body and your brain couldn’t comprehend anything but out and now.

Steve’s hand remained in yours, though you couldn’t see past the blur of dark and sting in your eyes. So you just kicked and pulled at the space around you, weightless and yet too heavy all at once.

Something wrapped itself around your ankle, but you just kept kicking, feet as paddles and anchors.

You wrist ached, the numbing pull of something as Steve tried to yank you upward, and then you felt his arm around your waist and then your knee, and he was fighting something off, and then nothing. Then he was gone and his warmth and his weight, and your body was surging you upwards and outwards and now as fast as you can.

It hurt. Everything hurt. Your lungs screamed and your soul ached and your heart hurt, but when you burst through that surface and through your head back and filled your lungs at least that was right again.

You slapped your hands to the surface in an effort to stay afloat, and you gasped and sputtered and took in the fresh, clean air.

Starlight glinted above you, miles and miles upward, not shying beyond clouded skies. God, you’d missed them.

You floated for a moment, on your back, body screaming for rest, exhausted, eyes drifting closed while you drifted like a log on the water’s surface. Alone and weightless, but free and alive and alone.

Alone. You sputtered, coughed out water that spilled in through your nostrils, and when it had cleared, you looked frantically around you for Steve.

Your distress caused ripples in the water, ripples in reflected starlight, ripples alone.

You took a deep breath, weak, lungs pained, and dove. Your eyes stung and the darkness filled everything below the surface, so you reached out with frantic arms until your lungs couldn’t take it anymore and your body rocketed you back up for another gasp of air.

You cried out for Steve, a wheezing sound that had you coughing again. Your teeth chattered. You could barely hear your own voice above the ringing in your ear.

You dove again and again, dives decreasing in length each time until you finally surfaced, gasping for air and screaming for someone to help, screaming for Steve, screaming at Vickie, at Vecna, at the world for doing this to you, and that’s when you found him.

Several yards off, face down, like driftwood bobbing along the shoreline.

You swam to him, one stroke at a time, aching legs kicking until the tips of your fingers met the back of his head, and you turned him to face you. Liquid poured from his open mouth, the sweet curve of his lips.

You pulled him under your arm and dug in hard to the silt and soil, pulling him up and over the banks where cattails bloomed and crickets chirped. You pulled yourself up too, both of your bodies scraping the sand.

“Steve,” you wheezed, straddling his body. You tilted his head back. “I promised Vickie. I promised her we’d get married. I promised her we’d have a dozen babies.”

You ripped open what was left of his shirt, bits of material sticking to his shredded skin. You held back a cry and interlaced your fingers. Your wrist screamed, bruising crawling to your elbow. Gingerly, the palm of your hands found his sternum, and you began compressions.

“You have to stay with me because I love you, and I can’t do this without you.” You tried to keep time to the adrenaline thundering your heartbeat in your skull.

More liquid spilled from his lips.

“No!” You cried out. “Stay with me. Damnit, Harrington!”

You clenched your jaw until something snapped, a tooth, maybe his ribs, maybe your arm, but you didn’t stop, you couldn’t stop.

—

Your throat was so dry, a swallow that burned down your esophagus like sand paper. Your insides smarted with it. Everything was red, too bright, vicious like wildfire. You winced, turned your face to shield yourself from the light.

The beeping got louder, a steady rhythm that matched the thump-thump of your heart in your skull only fuzzier, dials turned down, a bit of static ebbing and flowing like waves, a current.

Then you heard a mumble, or at least, it sounded like a voice. No, two voices muttered to one another from over top of you, one louder, clearer, the other soft, strangled, too-far away.

“Have you been here all night?”

“If they try to pull me away from this bedside, I’ll kill them.”

“Have they woken up yet?”

“Not yet. No one can tell me if that’s good or bad. Do medical charts make sense to you?”

“Let me see.”

Something clattered beside you, too close to your head, and your reflexes startled your eyes open. You winced to find everything was no longer red, but stark white and too bright, and your eyelids were crusted over and burned. You groaned and shielded them with a hand wrapped in gauze.

“Holy shit,” someone spoke your name.

“Should we call the nurse?”

“Hold on a second. Sweetheart, are you awake? It’s me, Eddie.” A soft hand reached for yours to pull it from your eyes. “Hit the lights, will ya?”

Stark white dulled to softer blues and grays, and you lowered your hand from your face. Your eyes adjusted, room and faces blurred until the sweet, sad face of your best friend came into focus.

Munson smiled back at you, hair swept back over his shoulders, black t-shirt hugging his chest. His body was pressed to yours, butt pinching the wires that were jabbed into your hand and the crook of your elbow. “Bet those drugs are feeling really nice right now, huh?”

His voice was sweet and low, like molasses, and it buzzed through you warm and soft. You hummed, but the dryness in your throat cracked until you coughed and sputtered and gasped.

“Okay, I’m calling the nurse.”

“You want some water?” Eddie scrambled, snapping his fingers at something on the other side of you, and you turned your head to find Robin with a clipboard under one arm, frantically pushing a large, red button that hung on a cord beside you.

You tried to say her name, but once again the wheezing and sputtering halted your attempt, so you reached for her instead.

“Water? Yeah, here,” her voice trembled, and her hand as she lifted a large plastic cup from the bedside table and held the straw to your lips. She looked scared, frantic, and tears brimmed in her big, blue eyes.

“I got it,” Eddie took it from her, holding the straw steady for you to drink.

The cold water soothed your throat, and your eyes closed in the relief. You were exhausted. Your entire body sunk further into the soft cloud you laid upon and wanted to stay there.

“What’s going on in here?”

“You fall back asleep on us?” You felt the rumble of Eddie’s chuckle, and the tug of a smile played on your lips.

You peaked one eye back open, and the nurse who stood in the doorway dropped her arms from where they were crossed over her chest. “Well, good morning, sunshine. How’re you feeling? Don’t talk, but give me a thumbs up or thumbs down.” She pushed into Robin’s space to jiggle the tubes attached to you.

You managed a thumbs up, the world still a little fuzzy around the edges.

Eddie snorted. “Yeah, I bet you’re feeling good.”

“Your vitals are looking good, but you should probably rest. It’s the fastest way your body can heal.”

Yeah, rest sounded lovely. You nodded and closed your eye again, sinking farther into the warm cloud embracing you.

“I’m going to go check on Nance,” Robin muttered from beside you. “You going to stay here?”

“Try and stop me,” Eddie said, and it pulled another smile to your lips as you drifted off to sleep.

—

Seventeen gates had sealed themselves over night, leaving naught but severed vines and wet patches of pavement. Bits of equipment and body parts slowly began to wash up on shore, but when the lake beds were dragged, no gates had been found.

Your drug-induced dreams had been void of smoke and screams, void of ash and ruin, void of that shock of orange and the chill in your spine.

You’d gotten to your feet faster than any of your comrades, despite being one of the last living recovered by the Evac team. You joked about your competitive nature through wheezed coughs behind your cast.

You and Munson raced walkers down hallways. Much to your chagrin, he let you win.

Weaning off the drugs, your body ached, bones stiff. The stitches around your cheekbone and shoulder and hip itched something fierce. Your voice came back after a few days, scratchy and raw, but your hearing never returned on that right side.

You begged Eddie to read you the novel he’d been writing every night as you drifted off to sleep. You played card games with Jonathan and Argyle during the days, stuffing aces into the bright blue plaster of your bandaged arm.

Hopper visited when he could, cursing at a nurse under his breath when she came in to tell him to put out his cigarette. He did so in your abandoned jell-o cup, and before he left, he squeezed the fingers of your hand and said, “I’m proud of you, kid.”

Nancy’s recovery came along quickly, always two steps ahead, and you spent evenings distracting her while her bandages were changed. Burns covered half of her slender frame, but she grit her teeth through the agony. You helped her to her feet when she asked and held her hand to the bathroom and back to her bed.

Robin came bearing gifts smuggled from the outside, warm socks and soda in glass bottles, a record player and later, hummed tunes. She tried to teach you French one night, Russian another, and if she hadn’t fallen asleep at Nancy’s bedside, she was slumped onto Eddie’s shoulder, the two of them wide-mouthed, snoring out-of-sync.

Some such nights, you’d sneak out, carrying your IV so the wheels didn’t squeak, the pads of your feet cold against stark white linoleum. You’d bypass the common room, illuminated by the vibrant colors of candy wrappers from a vending machine, and tiptoe down the hall past the nurse’s station. You’d slip into a room two doors down, on the left, masked under the faint blue glow of a heart monitor and sidle up beside the patient there.

You didn’t like the blue, cast across hard features like the frigid chill of a drowned man. You much preferred the warmth of sunshine pouring in through easterly windows. If you stayed long enough, you’d catch a glimpse of that, honeyed light caressing soft skin, tousling the golds in his hair.

You glanced at his heart rate on the monitor, the steady but slow rise and fall, and then you slipped your fingers to the pulse point on his wrist to double check. “Harrington, I’m always saving your ass, aren’t I?” You tutted.

You tugged his torso to warm exposed shoulders, careful not to drag the material against the plane of his chest, where skin had been grafted together with vicious knots of needle and thread.

You pressed the back of your hand to his forehead, taking solace in the warmth of life, and swept hair from the wrinkle in his brow.

You pulled up a chair and tucked your hand into his, resting your elbows and head beside the dip of his thighs, listening to the subtle beat of his heart until your eyelids felt heavy and your rhythms matched with his.

—

May 1990

Sunlight dappled the landscape in pale yellows and vibrant greens, pouring in from between the limbs of trees and spilling onto the grass like paint to a canvas. A breeze brew through, sweet florals on the wind. You helped it sweep fallen, wilted petals and debris from letters carved into stone. A petrified bouquet was replaced with a fresh one, and you primped rose petals and wiped lily pollen off on a pant leg.

Robin crouched beside you, freckled nose red and eyes bleary. She kissed a beaded bracelet before wrapping it around the little vase with the others like it.

You stood before her, helping her up by the hand, and both of you kissed your fingertips and placed them to the tip top of the headstone.

“You ready?” You muttered, giving her hand a squeeze.

She sniffled, nodded, and you began your trek up the dappled hill toward the parked car.

“Give a kiss for me too?” Eddie asked as you approached, frown etched between his brows. You sunk into his embrace, buried your face in the warmth of his throat. He smelled of the cigarette he’d stamped out on the asphalt.

“Always,” Robin muttered into his other shoulder, burying herself there too.

You pulled away with a sad laugh, mopping the tears from your cheeks to slide into the arms of the man beside him.

“Hey, Harrington, you doing okay?” Steve’s voice rumbled against your cheek, his lips pressed to the shell of your ear. He hadn’t stopped calling you that in months, and you delighted in the way his honeyed gaze lit up when he said it.

You swatted at his middle, fighting back the grin that tugged on the corners of your lips. “I’m changing my name back,” you argued.

He hummed a protest, rocking you back and forth, large hands tracing circles of comfort up and down the length of your spine. He felt safe, a tall drink of relief, calm tides after a storm.

“Well, I think I’m ready for brisket,” Eddie clapped Steve’s shoulder, and you reluctantly peeled yourself from your husband’s embrace to help your friend into the back seat.

Robin rounded the car to join him, and you accepted Steve’s sweet kiss to your temple before he climbed in behind the wheel.

With a sigh, you turned to cast one last look down the hill at Vickie’s grave. Light poured down sweet and soft. This place had never felt like her, a disconnect between the girl you knew and loved and the monument for soldiers fallen.

“Steve,” you turned to see him, big brown eyes staring back at you.

“Yeah?”

“Can we make one stop first?”

“Of course.”

—

The new owners painted it blue, still pale, but it matched the sky now. The garage door had been painted stark white like fluffy clouds, and a mini van was parked out front. Toys and bicycles spilled out onto the yard like it had when you were young. Someone paved over the pothole in the lane.

“Want me to come with you?” Steve mumbled, fingertips to your wrist as you opened the passenger side door. You noticed his glance in the rearview.

You shook your head. “I’ll only be a second.”

The wind ruffled the trees, forest curving downhill toward farmland and beyond, but you turned your back to the trees and took cautious steps up the driveway to the garage door. Two daisies had been chalked beside a hopscotch course.

You closed your eyes and breathed in all of the memories from childhood: running back and forth from your house to hers, her incessant humming, the sound of her laughter, dancing in circles in a thunder storm, the feeling of her slender fingers between your own, her nose to yours.

With a smile, you opened your eyes again and turned to go back to Steve’s idling car. That’s when you saw it, a shock of orange out of your periphery that ducked between slats on the porch and flew directly at you.

Your breath caught in your throat, anxiety clawing at your chest, when you felt the wrap of tiny limbs around your knees, knocking them together.

“Baby, what are you…? Oh my God, I’m so sorry. Honey, let go!” A woman launched herself from the front door.

You looked down to find a child, no older than three, with bright red hair and a toothy grin etched upon freckled features. You smiled back, tears welling in your eyes, and patted her little head. “Hi, sweetie,” you chuckled.

“I’m so sorry. We just learned what hugging is,” the little girl’s mother reached for her pudgy little hand to pry her off of your legs.

“Oh no, she’s okay,” you let out a wet laugh.

“Thank you,” the woman huffed. “Can I help you with something?”

You waved her away. “Oh no, my um… my friend used to live here, before the Earthquake. I came to check in on the place. We um… we used to play hopscotch just like this.” You fumbled for a reason to be stood there, in this stranger’s driveway.

“Oh, I see,” the woman’s face fell in understanding. “Would you like to come in? I might have lemonade.”

“That’s alright,” you smiled at the girl in her arms. “Your little one gave me just what I needed. Thank you. Have a nice day.”

“Bye-bye!” The girl waved before hiding, shy, in her mother’s hair.

“Bye.” Emotion swelled with a lump in your throat, but you turned to find that wash of relief in your partner, who stood, leaning over the hood of his car, knowing smile stretched across handsome features.

He waved at the mother and daughter behind you and waited until you were safely inside before getting back in himself. A large hand came to squeeze at your knee, two others squeezed your shoulders from the backseat.

“That baby was pretty cute,” Steve mumbled from his seat, shifting his car into gear to start rolling again.

“Yeah,” you smiled, letting the groans of your best friends fade into the background as you watched the colors of your childhood roll on by.

---

[[A/N: And here we come to the End. I'm a bit emotional here, and would like to, if I may, wax a bit about how much this story means to me.

I haven't written a story this long (haven't finished a story like this) since November of 2019. Like most of us, 2020 took a toll on my mental health, my physical health, my self-esteem, my confidence as a writer, and I think this year, with your help, I'm slowly gaining that confidence back. This story really proved to me that if I put myself into it, my values, my fears, if I truly tie myself to a piece of work, I can do it again.

Wildfire will always be my baby, my favorite, the reader and Harrington and Vickie and all of them mean so much to me, much more than even I know, I'm sure. And I really want to thank all of you for sticking along for the ride with me. I'll never be able to express just how much your words of encouragement have meant. So thank you, so so much, for reading xo]]

#stranger things fic #steve harrington fic #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington smut #steve harrington enemies to lovers #eddie munson #robin buckley #nancy wheeler #jonathan byers #argyle #vickie stranger things #vickie

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chelseeebe · 1 year

Text

hate to love me. | part 2

summary: the growing feelings towards steve were becoming all the more confusing. but when he shows up at your doorstep, do you have the heart to turn him away?

read part one here.

a/n: omg this took so long i’m so sorry <\3 retail is kicking my arse and i’m working every day until christmas :,( but i think i will most definitely do a part 3 with s3 i’ve got some lovely ideas

fembyers!reader x steve harrington, enemies!tolovers (ish)

taglist: @lokiofasgard616 @ihatepeanutss @bytchis-world @reasontobebeautiful @freezaz123 @ladybug0095 @thrown-off-her-rhythm @chaerfull @eris-rose-86 @manyfandomsfanvergent @nyenye @sagelittleplace @mrskeery-mclaughlin @quixscentsposts

steve’s car crunches up your gravel driveway, slightly earlier than usual, on monday morning.

he sounds the horn, as he usually does, and sits and waits for you to stumble out of the front door, like you usually do.

but you don’t.

jonathan peers out of the door before sighing and walking over to steve’s car.

‘she got the bus this morning,’ he notes, ignoring the awkwardness of the entire situation.

‘oh.. i’ve been calling all weekend, but she didn’t.. uh, thanks man,’ steve nods, looking down at his steering wheel.

‘i don’t know what happened.. or what you did, but she’s been holed up in her room all weekend.. you need to fix this,’ jonathan spits, hand leaning on the roof of steve’s car.

he nods, running his tongue along the inside of his cheek, understanding jonathan perfectly.

‘i swear to god, if this is some elaborate prank or revenge for what happened between us.. i’ll fucking kill you,’ jonathan threatens, standing up straight and walking back into the house.

steve exhales, running his hand along his face and through his hair before pulling off, hoping to at least catch you before school.

the bus is already empty when he shows up, a shower of school kids making it impossible to find you.

you shared one class with steve and even then you sat on opposite sides of the classroom, there was no way he would be able to talk to you there.

he scans the parking lot, recognising a girl he’d sometimes spot you walking in the halls with and jumps out of his car, bounding up to her.

‘have you seen y/n?’ he startles the poor girl, who in turn furrows her brows back at him.

‘jesus.. no, not yet, why do you care?’ she looks him up and down, judging his entire being. you had definitely told her about his antics at the party, causing the foul look on her face.

‘i need to speak to her,’ he declares, now searching the moving crowd.

‘well i don’t think she wants to speak to you,’ she hisses, walking away from him and into the building.

steve bites the inside of his cheek before walking into the school, still in search of you.

it’s impossible. you’re not anywhere.

the bell rings and steve begrudgingly heads to his first class, annoyed that he now won’t see you until last period.

he sits in class with his chin resting in his hand, unsure of what he would even say to you.

his mind is somewhere else for the entire day. at lunch, stacy attempts to speak to him.

‘where’d you get to on friday? no one could find you,’ she nudges him with her elbow.

‘hmm? i went home, wasn’t feeling it,’ he mumbles, eyes scanning the crowd for your familiar grey sweatshirt.

the thing is, partly due to his inescapable gang of bully’s, you’d learnt how to blend into the crowd, how to go completely unnoticed at school so people would leave you alone.

‘harrington not feeling a party? what the hell’s wrong with you?’ she jokes, only to be met with a small exhale from steve.

she snaps her fingers in front of his face, ‘hellooo, earth to steve.’

he turns to look at her, frowning.

‘are you okay?’

‘yeah i’m fine.. i’m gonna go get some homework done, i’ll see you later,’ he announces before standing from the table and swiftly walking out of the bustling cafeteria.

the group turn to watch him leave, puzzled as to what was going on with their friend.

one of the other girls leans across the table to stacy, ‘y’know i saw him going into the bathroom with that byers girl at the party.. maybe something’s going on between them,’ she shrugs.

stacy just shakes her head, furrowing her brow.

steve heads straight to the library, looking at each and every table for you, to no avail.

he was getting frustrated now, hawkins high was not that big, how could you possibly be evading him so well?

the bell eventually dings and he trundles along to his next class, now only one period away from you.

it goes painstakingly slow, mr browns sentences coming out even slower than usual.

finally.

last period.

steve absolutely barrels through the hallway, wanting to grab the desk next to yours before anyone else could.

his eyes immediately clocks your infamous sweatshirt and collapses into the empty desk next to you, apologising to the unsuspecting kid who had slid his bag onto the wood.

you don’t even look up, carrying on- pretending to read the book in front of you, jaw tense as you feel his eyes boring into you.

he leans over and whispers, ‘please talk to me.’

nothing. not even a twitch.

mrs cooper walks into the classroom, loudly clearing her throat before beginning her boring spiel about finals and how close they were.

you sigh, unsure if you could go the whole class with steve’s big brown eyes staring into you.

out of the corner of your eye you can see him scribble something down and then tearing the scrap of paper out of his book before sliding it onto your desk.

you glance down at the paper:

please just speak to me was messily scrawled in big letters.

you look back up to the board, disregarding his message, earning a large sigh from the boy next to you.

the bell rings to signal the end of the day and you attempt to pack your things up quicker than steve can but you’re beaten, he’s already stood at your desk before you can finish.

sighing again, his blue jeans in your peripheral as you shove your book into your bag and placing it onto the desk before standing, still avoiding any and all eye contact.

‘all i’m asking for is five minutes,’ he grabs your backpack, swinging it over his shoulder.

for the first time today you look up at him, stern faced at his antics, ‘can i have my bag back?’

‘if you promise to talk to me.. just let me explain myself,’ he wants to smile at finally getting you to actually respond, but decides against it, afraid that you’d actually punch him.

‘okay, go ahead,’ you cross your arms over your chest.

‘not here,’ he turns to leave, ‘c’mon.’

you’re reluctant to follow him but do anyway, still frowning at the stupidity of this entire situation.

what did he even have to say to you?

you picture him screaming, ‘you’ve just been pranked!’ with his friends all laughing in the background, an over the top film crew all gathered round to watch.

he walks out of the school and to his car, still holding your bag hostage and opening the passenger door for you, ‘get in.’

‘steve, i’m gonna miss the bus,’ you huff, turning to watch the students pile onto the bus.

‘i’ll give you a ride,’ he utters, motioning for you to get in.

‘i don’t want a ride, thanks,’ you attain, becoming more and more irritated with him.

he looks up, watching the bus pull off out of the parking lot, ‘too late, guess you’ll have to get in.’

‘you’re despicable,’ you exclaim, garnering the attention of nearby students.

‘just get in,’ he opens the passenger door, slinging your bag onto the back seat.

you oblige, huffing as you sit down in the seat.

he gets in the drivers side, gripping onto the steering wheel before starting the car and pulling off.

it’s silent at first, despite having all day to think of what he was going to say to you, he was still speechless.

‘why’d you run off?’ he breaks the silence, staring at the road ahead.

‘i wanted to go home,’ it’s not exactly a lie, but most definitely isn’t the whole truth.

‘i’m sorry.. for freaking you out.. i shouldn’t have..’ he trails off.

you turn your head to look out of the window, not wanting this conversation to progress any further.

he sighs, ‘can you just speak to me?’

‘i don’t know what you want me to say,’ and suddenly everything jonathan had said echoes in your ears and you can feel the anger rising in your throat, ‘i don’t want to be a part of your fucking prank.. or.. or whatever elaborate revenge plan you have for nancy, count me out.’

‘what? what are you talking about?’ he looks between you and the road, puzzled.

‘oh come on, why else are you suddenly interested in being my friend? you think i’m stupid?’ you spit.

‘because.. because i like you! i’m sorry- what the fuck does this have to do with nancy?’ he questions, knuckles turning white with pressure.

‘your girlfriend dumps you for my brother and i don’t know how your small brain works, but you thought you could get your revenge on him with his sister but i’m not letting you,’ your hands fly up in rage.

‘w-what?!’ he exclaims, hitting his hand on the leather wheel, ‘i don’t care about your brother or nancy, who do you think i am?’

‘i think you’re the same asshole that bullied me for years!’ you shake your head, ‘i haven’t forgotten, i know just how cruel you are, steve.’

the words are sharp, his mouth falls open in shock that the last few months of your friendship meant so little to you.

‘that’s not.. me,’ he mumbles, ‘not anymore.’

‘yes it is,’ you quickly wipe the warm tears from your eyes, not wanting to let him see how he was affecting you.

his mouth opens and closes, unable to find the correct string of words.

you turn back to the window, pressing your forehead against the glass and sighing.

he pulls onto the familiar drive, blinking as your house grows closer.

you reach into the back, grabbing your bag and placing it onto your lap, ‘i don’t want to be your friend, steve, just leave me alone.’

he stops the car, jaw tense as you leave the car, slamming the door shut and storming into your house.

you hadn’t meant a word you said. you wanted nothing more than to be friends with steve, for him to kiss you so tenderly again.

but god forbid letting him hurt you before you could hurt him.

the week is excruciatingly long, you can just feel steve’s eyes boring holes into the back of your head.

jonathan tries his hardest to try and support you but he can’t help but feel almost smug, as if he didn’t warn you steve was a dickhead.

your mom knows the exact remedy to asshole boys, but she’s still ultimately clueless on how to deal with her children facing boy troubles. she’s grateful that she’s not had to deal with it until now but she’s at a loss of what to say. how often does your sons-girlfriends-ex-boyfriend upset your daughter? not very, she’ll tell you that.

though, she does her best as you trundle through the week. purposely evading all eye contact with steve, sitting outside to eat lunch and getting to your one shared class late enough that your seat options were far, far away from him.

you miss his voice, his stupid little jokes that you would hate yourself for laughing at. but you refuse to admit that to yourself, or your friends for that matter. assuring them that the reason you were avoiding the cafeteria was that the weather was so lovely, it’d be a shame to sit inside.

not one of them believed you, christ, you didn’t even believe yourself.

the days are so long, boring without your twice-a-day rendezvous with steve.

but at some point it reaches friday and you’re sat at home, awaiting jonathan’s return so you could go to bed without worry.

there’s a short knock at the door and you rush to answer, assuming jonathan had once again forgotten his key.

you’d expected him home much later but you just assume he’d got off work early so you weren’t home alone.

swinging open the door and starting on your lecture, ‘jon, you need t-,’

you’re met with a pair of soft brown eyes that you hadn’t seen in weeks, adorning a large blue bruise that most certainly wasn’t there at school.

‘w-what’re you doing here?’ you mumble, clutching onto the wooden door.

‘i don’t know.. i didn’t know where else to go,’ steve coughs, holding onto his rib cage.

‘fuck.. what happened?’ you grab onto his arm, guiding him into your living room and placing him onto the sofa, standing in front of him with your arms across your chest.

you’re unsure if the feeling in your chest is hurt from seeing him in such a state or residual pain from your conversation mere weeks ago.

‘my dad..’ he mutters, leaning back into the cushion.

your heart stops.

all too familiar with the situation, having seen your brother in similar states after fights with your dad. only much younger and more brutal.

‘he.. hit you?’ you carefully sit on the edge of the couch next to him, not wanting to hurt him further.

‘he wanted to.. teach me a lesson,’ he mimics his fathers words, ‘said if i wanted to keep acting like an adult, he’d treat me like one.. all because i was late home last night,’ he leans his head back, still pressing a hand to his side.

you jump up from the sofa, walking into the kitchen and grabbing whatever bag of frozen vegetables from the freezer, offering it out to him.

‘and then he hit you..?’ you frown slightly, watching as he presses the peas to his eye.

‘he shoved me, so i shoved him back and then he swung for me,’ he winces at the cold on his skin.

‘oh, steve..’ you sigh, the guilt from your harsh words weighing on your heart. you hadn’t seen him look so defeated, not even after billy had done worse to his face in this very room not too long ago.

‘you should see him though.. much worse,’ he looks up at you, the corner of his mouth twitching ever so slightly.

you can’t smile, memories of cleaning up jonathan’s bloodied face flood back and for a split second you feel transported back to that dreadful time.

‘c’mon, let’s get you cleaned up,’ you offer out a hand which he graciously accepts, following you slowly into the bathroom.

you grab the first aid kit from the cabinet and gesture for him to come closer. he leans back against the counter, supported by his bloodied hands either side of his body.

very cautiously you begin to dab at his wounds with the wash cloth, trying to remove the dried blood.

you step one leg in between his, moving closer, ‘this is gonna sting..’ you warn, blotting at the cuts with the peroxide soaked cotton pad.

he winces, knee jerking up and brushing against the inside of your thigh. if you weren’t in such a vulnerable position, it probably would’ve made you blush.

‘sorry..’ he whispers, eyes squeezed shut.

‘almost done,’ your face only inches from his, observing all of his features in a way that hadn’t been possible before.

you throw the waste into the trash and placing a hand on his sweater, ‘can i?’ you look to him, eyes now open and already staring at you.

he nods and you slowly pull the fabric up, letting your eyes wander away from his rib cage before pulling your attention back to the affected area.

‘okay.. just a bruise,’ you reassure, dropping his sweater and meeting his gaze once again.

‘thanks.. for helping me.. and for not slamming the door in my face,’ the eye contact heavy, neither of you wanting to break it.

you smile slightly, ‘that’s okay,’ finally stepping out of his legs and clearing your throat.

he stands up straight, looking into the small mirror hanging on the wall and sighing.

‘my mom’s out of town.. you can stay here if you want,’ the words spill out before you can even think of the consequences of your proposition.

he turns to look at you, ‘thanks.. are your brother’s here?’ he asks cautiously, not wanting a further fight with jonathan tonight.

you shake your head, clearing up the supplies, ‘jon’s at work and will’s at the wheelers all weekend.’

‘oh.. okay,’ he nods, looking down at his scarred hands.

you pull your eyes from him and shuffle in your spot, ‘you can have my bed, i’ll be fine on the couch.’

‘thank you.. for this,’ he smiles weakly and you nod, refusing to meet his eyes, before turning to leave the bathroom.

you dreaded sleeping on the couch, you dreaded sleeping at all. since that horrific experience in the tunnel, sleep had become a haunted place, images of your brother, of that creature coming at you now running through your mind in replacement of dreams.

choosing to instead stay awake where you could at least control the thoughts. they couldn’t consume you when you were awake.

‘steve?’ you whisper, his back to the door so you’re unable to tell if he was awake.

‘mmm?’ he groans, turning to you.

‘can i.. can i sleep in here?’

‘it’s your bed, silly,’ he gives you a small smile.

‘no, i mean.. with you?’ you swallow, unsure why this was making you so anxious.

‘of course,’ he shuffles over, giving you more room.

you close the door and slink over to the bed, delicately climbing under the covers.

‘it’s scary out there,’ you mumble.

knowing that steve was only in the other room, making the already horrid experience much worse.

he smiles slightly, putting an arm behind his head as he looks up to the ceiling.

you turn over, turning off the lamp on your bedside table and sighing.

not wanting to get too close to steve, making it awkward, you lay facing the door, curled up into yourself.

eventually, you fall asleep, snoring softly as steve struggles to drift off, sneaking occasional glances at you.

at some point in the night you stir, mumbling incoherently about something, tossing and turning.

you wake to steve’s arm pulling you closer, his soft voice cooing you back to sleep.

you sniff, looking up at him, ‘i think i was having a nightmare..’ you don’t move away, instead embracing the contact and shuffling closer, ‘i’ve been having them since that night.. about everything we saw..’

he inhales deeply, ‘me too.. i haven’t been sleeping,’ he admits, his hand beginning to rub your arm.

you lay there in silence for a short while, still stilted from the nightmare.

‘i’m sorry.. for what i said..’ you sigh, hesitantly putting your head on his chest.

these repeated intimate moments with steve were doing nothing for the way you were now feeling about him. you weren’t angry at him really, you were angry at yourself for letting him crawl his way into your heart. after everything he had done to you, everything he had said about your family, you were still unequivocally falling for him.

‘it’s okay.. i was cruel and i’m sorry for that,’ he rests his chin on the top of your head.

‘why did you kiss me?’ you ask pointedly, desperate to understand his intentions.

‘because i wanted to.. you looked beautiful,’ he answers.

you can feel his heart pounding against your cheek, the same feeling from that night in the tunnel when he clutched onto you for dear life.

you move slightly off his chest to look up at him, his features bathing in the moonlight creeping in your window.

he stares back, unsure of what to do next.

‘i liked it..’ you murmur, barely audible.

he moves his arm, placing his thumb and forefinger on your chin, titling it further towards him. you can just about make out his eyes moving to your lips, before he leans down, kissing your lips softly.

your eyes flutter shut before you shift more onto your stomach, moving your leg up over his, wanting to get closer, to experience every part of him.

his thumb stroking your skin softly, other hand moving to the small of your back.

you pull away, studying his face, ‘i liked that more,’ you don’t try to hide the smile on your face.

‘me too,’ he breathes, grin creeping onto his face.

the night is full of kisses. kissing him just because you can, because it feels good. like his lips were the safest place in the world.

it’s not early when you finally awake, the bright sun indicated that it was at least afternoon.

truthfully, you had both needed the sleep, finally able to sleep through without the darkness of that night creeping in.

your head still in the same position on his chest, hoping to god that you didn’t drool.

you sit up, breaking away from his grasp and just watching him sleep. tracing over the cuts on his hand that was now holding onto your arm.

he stirs, slowly opening his eyes to look up at you, squinting from the bright daylight cascading in.

‘hi,’ you whisper, blinking down at him.

‘morning,’ he says, voice gruff with sleep.

‘not quite,’ you look over to the alarm clock on your bedside table quite clearly displaying that morning had passed.

‘jeez.. i haven’t slept that good in.. months,’ he stretches, placing his head back on the pillow, never breaking eye contact.

‘me too,’ you smile, ‘you hungry?’

‘mm, very,’ he sits up as you get out of the bed, one of jonathan’s hoodies hanging off of you.

‘c’mon, i’m starving,’ you motion, roughly combing through your hair with your fingers.

steve joins you standing and your eyes quickly fall to his black boxer shorts before averting your eyes and spinning on your heel to the door.

you’re mumbling about something when you reach the kitchen, two sets of eyes now staring at you.

you stop abruptly, eyes widened at the sight of nancy and jonathan sat at your kitchen table.

steve is either still half asleep or simply not paying attention as he bumps into the back of you, nearly knocking you over.

there’s a small silence, jonathan’s eyes flicking from you to steve to steve’s lack of clothing and then back to you.

‘i.. uh, thought you had work this morning?’ you stutter, tripping over your words.

‘i did. it’s one in the afternoon,’ your brother says, pushing the plate back from in front of him.

‘right..’ you nod, biting your bottom lip.

nancy just stares down at the table, finding it increasingly awkward that her ex boyfriend was stood in her current boyfriends kitchen.

‘i’m just gonna..’ steve points to your room before speeding off.

you can’t decipher the look on jonathan’s face, part disappointment and part confusion. after the last few days of your moping and inadvertent comments about steve, he had hoped you weren’t going to go back.

‘he had nowhere to go, jon.. i couldn’t just leave him,’ you’re almost pleading with him.

he sighs, ‘i don’t care.. you can do whatever you want,’ he scowls.

you look down at the floor, playing with the hem on his hoodie.

‘i’m staying at nance’s tonight.. i was gonna ask but.. i guess you’ll be alright here,’ he raises his eyebrows, now looking at his girlfriend.

‘yeah.. i’ll be okay,’ you mutter.

jonathan stands from the table, the empty plates clattering into the sink before grabbing his bag from the floor.

nancy flashes you a small, but sincere smile as she walks out of the room.

you grab jonathan’s arm before he can push past you, causing him to glare down at you.

‘it’s his dad jon..’ you whisper, catching his gaze. it was unnecessary to finish the sentence, he knew perfectly well what you were going to say.

jonathan sighs, tensing his jaw before giving you a small nod. a small, unspoken, understanding between the two of them.

he gives your arm a gentle squeeze before walking out of the door, following nancy to his car.

you exhale before walking back to your room, nudging the door open to see steve stood by your bed in his jeans.

‘it’s safe to come out now,’ you chuckle, watching as he fumbles around with his shirt.

‘i can go.. if you want? my dad’s probably cooled off by now..’ he looks at you.

you shake your head, ‘no.. stay, jon’s spending the night at nancy’s and i really don’t want to be all alone,’ you reassure him.

steve doesn’t need to be asked twice, another night away from his dad with the added bonus of being with you was enough for him.

the rest of the day is spent lazing around on your couch, watching the stack of pretentious movies jonathan had rented from the video store and eating your mom’s cupboards bare.

conversation about everything and nothing fills the room, exactly how it was with him before that party. except now, it felt lighter. like you weren’t both hiding something.

eventually, talking turns to kissing and then suddenly it’s a hazy make out session with your legs straddling steve’s, his large hands running up and down the skin of your back.

you shift on his lap and he groans into your mouth as you thigh brushes against his semi-erect cock.

continuing the action, repeatedly shifting your hips back and forth, adoring the way steve was becoming undone.

the kiss becomes sloppy, lazily connecting your mouths as his groans become moans, strong fingers digging into your back.

you were a novice at this, responding to his sounds with a quickening of your hips.

his hands slide down to the fat of your hips, stopping your movements before he actually came in his pants.

‘mm.. do you want to?’ he asks, thumbs rubbing circles into your hips.

you nod slowly, hesitant to already be letting steve fuck you, but too turned on to say no.

‘i’ve only.. done it once..’ you mumble, simply embarrassed that you were not nearly as experienced as him.

to be quite frank, it had been dreadful. in the 10th grade, you and one of your friends, dylan, had made a pact that if you were both still virgins at the end of summer then you would have sex with each other.

summer ends and of course you’re still a virgin, so you go over to his house and have the most awkward, awful, five minutes of sex before leaving and never speaking of it again. you wondered why everyone was in such a rush, if it was godawful like that, what’s the need?

‘we don’t have to,’ he places his forehead on yours.

‘i want to,’ sliding your hands to his shoulders, ‘but not here.’

he nods, moving you off of him and onto the couch before standing and readjusting himself, before looping his arms underneath your arms, hoisting your body up.

your legs wrap around his waist, arms hanging off of his neck as you kiss him again. a giggle escapes into the kiss has he backs you into a wall, returning the kiss.

he relents, moving towards your bedroom and laying your body back onto the bed, falling on top of you, his lips finding your neck, leaving soft kisses all the way down to your collarbones.

your hands slide into his long, tousled hair as his hips rut against yours, lips leaving a trail of violet marks as he begins to remove your hoodie, as his huge hands glide against your exposed skin.

you lift your arms up to allow him to pull the hoodie off, breathing out shakily as you’re left exposed beneath him.

his eyes glance down between your bodies before quickly meeting yours again, lips smashing against yours. you can feel him smirk against your lips.

you’re giving him complete control, having no idea what to do next in this situation, unsure of where your hands should go or do, what noises you should be making. it was miles apart from your experience with dylan.

he takes his own shirt off before continuing the kiss, grinding his now very erect cock against you. the unfamiliar sensation between your legs becoming entirely too much, needing him to hurry up with this routine.

steve picks up on your needy groans, fumbling around with his jeans before shimmying them down and off of his legs.

you can immediately feel the sheer length of him pressed against your core, only a thin layer of fabric between you.

he can feel your body brace slightly, ‘are you sure you want to do this?’ he asks against your skin, face still buried in your neck.

‘yes.. i want to,’ you assure, running your fingertips through his hair.

he moves back up to your eye level, moving a hand to cradle your cheek, propping his body up on his elbow as his other hand tugs his boxers down around his thighs, before doing similar to your pajama shorts.

‘sure?’ he double checks, staring down into your eyes through thick eyelashes.

you nod, ‘yes, steve,’ you whisper, blinking up at him.

he lines himself up with your entrance, his eyes not breaking contact with yours at all as he very slowly slides into you, your nails digging into his shoulders at the feeling of fullness.

it was no secret that steve’s cock was huge. you’d heard girls at school giggling about it after they’d watched his basketball practice, the outline of it was incredibly prominent on those school issued shorts.

but now it was inside of you and potentially it could be too big as you brace, ‘w-wait,’ your hand stopping him from moving, eyes squeezed shut.

‘too much?’ he asks nervously, staying as still as possible.

you nod slightly, looking back at him before quickly looking away. his gaze was all the more intimidating with his dick inside of you.

you exhale and release your grip from his shoulder, ‘o-okay,’ you whisper.

‘okay..’ he nods, slowly moving his hips as you stretch around him, becoming accustomed to the feeling of his cock.

he keeps a slow pace, soft groans tumbling out of his mouth.

eventually the uncomfortable feeling becomes pleasurable and your mouth falls open, watching as his hair flops down to his forehead and his sweet eyes take in every inch of your face.

‘yeah?’ he mumbles as he cautiously quickens his rhythm.

you can only nod in response, words failing you as he hits your sweet spot. encouraging him to continue with lowly moans and gasps, slightly tugging on his hair.

his hand moving down to find your clit, thumb rubbing small circles around the fleshy area. the feeling is foreign and you don’t know how to respond to the building pressure in your stomach, worlds apart from your past experience.

‘s-steve..’ you gasp, closing your eyes as he grunts into your ear.

‘mmm.. yeah?’

you can hear the smirk in his voice as he begins to falter, nearing his own orgasm.

‘shit..’ you breathe as the pressure reaches it’s hilt and your walls clench around him, legs trembling and a variety of curse words fall out of your lips.

the sight of you coming undone beneath him is enough to send steve to his orgasm, a final few thrusts as he empties himself into you.

he rolls over to the empty bed next to you, a deep exhale as his chest rises and falls.

you pull the blanket up to your chin, suddenly incredibly insecure about your performance.

steve turns on his side to face you, gentle hand reaching up to cup your face, forcing you to look at him.

you cheeks burn red, but you maintain the eye contact, returning his smile.

‘you’re good, yeah?’ he asks, running his thumb over your cheek.

‘yeah,’ moving in closer to his chest as his arms wrap around your shoulders, holding you to him.

the pair of you lay in silence in that position for a short while, his chin resting against the top of your head.

‘i.. uh-,’ he swallows, ‘i really like you.. if that wasn’t already obvious..’ he breaks the silence.

you grin against his chest, heart skipping a beat, ‘it wasn’t,’ you jest, ‘..i like you too,’ you add quietly.

his fingers begin tracing through your hair, perfectly locked together in your bed, spending the rest of the night babbling about irreverent topics, seeing the real steve harrington. not ‘king steve’ or the version of steve girls in school had made up about him, but the true him.

before eventually falling asleep cradled in his arms, a place you found yourself the most secure.

#steve harrington #steve harrington x you #steve stranger things #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington angst #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington smut #stranger things x you #steve harrington fic #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington x reader smut #steve harrington x byers!reader #steve harrington enemies to lovers

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calumfmu · 2 months

Text

The King's Reign

King Steve, the stupid nickname you had heard your entire life. The rumors, the huge ego to match. It was everything that made you hate him, especially when your best friend wouldn't shut up about him. Robin was forcing you to be friends with him, but it wouldn't stop the passion you had dedicated to wanting nothing to do with him.

Steve Harrington x reader, enemies to lovers edition, 7.7k+ words

cw: smut, unprotected sex, oral, Steve talking you through it (!!), fingering, angst, tension, 18+, mdni

You had heard rumors of ‘King Steve’ your entire life. Being in a small town like Hawkins allowed every rumor—big or small, to be spread like wild fire. Even when it came to talking about Steve Harrington’s dick. No matter what you did, nothing could allow you to escape the whispers throughout the town.

When Robin had befriended the man of conversation, you were annoyed, to say the least. You could barely escape him when you were trying not to listen to the gossip mill, but it was even harder when your best friend wouldn’t shut up about the guy.

You chewed on a fry, eyes focused behind your friend as you gazed at a group of girls from your school across the way. They were walking into a Tammy’s, hair higher than ever and short shorts hiked up on their long legs. You stared at them, wondering if they had a run around with the guy.

Robin was droning on about something Steve had done today at work, involving a bunch of kids who seemed too young for him.

A fry hit the side of your head, knocking your focus into her instead of the girls across the mall.

“Yn!” Robin sighed, rolling her eyes at you. “You’re not even listening to me.”

“And you would be incorrect,” you responded, smoothing the grease off of your face from where it hit. You grimaced, annoyed at her antics. “You said something about Steve, some kid named Justin, and a stupid handshake or something.”

Robin pressed her lips in a straight line, rolling her eyes once more. They might roll out of her head at this point, you thought.

“His name is Dustin, and the handshake wasn’t stupid, it was cute,” she huffed, throwing her hands in the air. She pushed her food tray away from her, burger half eaten and fries lay abandon across the plastic.

You gasped, leaning across the table and you crossed your arms over your chest. “Woah, Rob.”

She furrowed her brow, wondering what you were getting at.

“I had no idea you swung that way, new development I see.” You wiggled your eyebrows at her, wanting to see how far her patience went. “I just have to know—is it as big as everyone says it is?”

You laughed and leaned back in your chair, blocking your face with your arms as Robin threw a handful of fries at you. Her patience ran out, clearly.

“Yn, can you please be serious for once?” The brunette whined, pouting out her bottom lip as she looked at you. Her infamous begging face. “I’m just telling you because I want you to be friends with him. I can’t be a child of divorce between you. It’s so emotionally draining.”

You giggled, eyeing the way her uniform made her look ridiculous as she begged you. It was rumpled in all the wrong places, red tie hanging loosely at her neck. It made her look like she was perpetually going to a Halloween party.

“How do you think I feel being an actual child of divorce?”

She gaped at you, mouth hanging open as she was at a loss of words. Sputtering, she found the words to say, “Fuck, okay my bad. You know what I meant!”

“I know, Rob, Im just fucking with you,” you laughed, shaking your head as she flushed in the face. She genuinely felt bad, you could tell.

Your parents had recently divorced, next month marking the full year since their split. Tommy and his stupid friends had made it their entire personality and asked you about it ever since the news hit the town. What’s wrong with Mommy and Daddy, they would ask. Daddy found out Mommy slept with the entire town?

You grimaced, thinking about the memories. None of the rumors were true, but that didn’t falter the town people into thinking that you all should be walking around with a Scarlet Letter on your chest.

Shaking your head, you diverted the subject as you hand came to rest of the table. “Me and Steve have never been friends, so you can’t be a child of divorce, Rob. And also, I don’t want to be friends with him.”

Robin stretched her arms across the table, grasping your hand in the two of hers. “Yn, please. I know we both used to hate him-”

“Still do.”

“-but I really think you’ll like him,” she continued, not batting an eyelash at your interruption. “He’s not that same Steve-”

“King Steve.”

“-that everyone talks about. Those rumors are just rumors, I mean, you know how it goes.” She paused when you looked away from her, squinting as you stared unfocused in the distance. You took a deep breath, clearing your throat in discomfort as you turned to look back at her. “Please, Yn?”

You chose silence in this moment, blinking at her with a serious expression on your face as she pouted at you. Her blue eyes were practically watering at this point, long lashes batting rapidly at you.

“Please, Yn.”

Her pleads continued, grip squeezing into your hand as a deadpan expression was being held on your face. This went on for another two minutes (you counted) as she begged you, leaning down every 15 seconds or so to kiss at your hand.

“Okay! Okay, fine, Rob!” You gave in, laughing as she decided to place kisses all over every inch of your hand. She cheered, throwing her hands in celebration before shaking them clasped at the sides of her head, as if thanking an audience for winning an award.

“I literally love you so much, Yn,” she beamed at you, lips stretched thin as she exposed all of her teeth to you. You don’t think she’s smiled this big, ever. “So, tonight, I was thinkin-”

“Tonight?!” Your eyes opened wide, heart beating in your chest as you realized how soon this interaction was going to be. You thought you at least had more than a few hours.

“Oh,” she smirked at you, tilting her head to the side. “Did I not mention that it was tonight?”

Sighing, you trailed a hand down your face, pulling down your features as she shared the details to come. You loved your friend, you really did. She was your best friend, but Christ was she a lot sometimes.

Awkward wasn’t the word to describe the tension in the room. The only sound you could hear was Robin’s nails clacking against the sound of her glass, and Steve’s occasional cough.

You were curled into the side of the couch, Steve on the other, Robin in between the two of you. Steve was looking every which way except the two of you, hand running through his hair as he chewed on his bottom lip. Robin glanced between the two of you, taking sips of her watered down sloppy cocktail in her hand. She kept moving to say something, mouth opening and closing around empty words.

You with your back against the arm of the couch, feet tucked into you as you stared down Steve. You were curious, if they were to ask you. You took in his features, his long hair, giant brown eyes, and navy—is that fucking cashmere?—sweater across his shoulders.

You were observing why him and Robin were friends, why this man had such a hold on your friend. He was attractive, you could admit, boyish features drawing you in, in a way you would never admit in a thousand years. He seemed nervous in this moment, something you hadn’t expected him to be. Cocky, arrogant, rude, brash, anything but this.

But he was still King Steve. The man you had heard about since you went to elementary school together. You were forced to listen to stories of Steve kissing girls underneath the jungle gym evolved to him fucking them in the back of his BMW at the drive-in. It was repulsive.

Robin cleared her throat, drawing your attention away from Steve as his into her. She offered a small smile, awkwardly tugging at the corners of her mouth.

“So… guys,” she phrased it like a question, voice dragging up on the end of the word. “How about actual conversation?”

“Sure.”

“No.”

The two of you having contradictory answers caused your eyes to be pulled into each other. Your face was unmoving as Steve raised his eyebrows at you, confused.

“I’d rather sit in silence,” you muttered, breaking eye contact with him as you leaned your head into your hand. Staring at him while he was focused on something else was one thing, but holding eye contact made you crumble, a slight blush crossing your features. You focused on Robin, shaking your head as she gave you a pleading look.

The blush on your face didn’t go unnoticed by Steve, a suggestive quirk of his eyebrow coming up to cross his face. It was like a switch flipped, the cockiness that surrounded the King Steve rumors coming into play.

“I think that’s a great idea, Rob,” he muttered, voice low as he stared into you. You turned your face towards the coffee table, examining the items abandon on the glass. Your eye twitched at the nickname of your best friend you so often used. You studied the nearly full bottle of vodka surrounded by shot glasses, a deck of cards, and a joint tucked into a clear baggie.

Robin had been optimistic at the night having a positive turn of events.

“I’ll start,” Steve said, turning his entire body so he was facing you. Your bodies mirrored each other, Robin sitting awkwardly in the middle as her eyes flitted between the two of you. “So, Yn… How come I’ve been friends with Robin this long, and have never had the honor of meeting you?”

“Wish I could say the same,” you rolled your eyes, leaning your head on your hand. Your heart was beating heavy behind your chest as you watched this man practically morph into a completely different person.

“Yn…” Robin’s hand came to rest on your knee, squeezing as her voice was a warning to you. Be on your best behavior, you could hear her thoughts.

“Hmm,” he answered, you felt his eyes brushing over your figure. You felt insecure in that moment, focusing on the bottle of vodka as you debated the quickest way to black out in that moment. “I’m just saying, Yn. I’ve heard about you for so long, yet I think this is the first time I’ve even seen you.”

You cut your eyes suddenly to him, your own gaze darkening as his words echoed through the room. You weren’t going to crumble (this time), your mind intent on showing him you weren’t intimidated by him.

At the eye contact, his smirk widened even further. There was a glint of something in his eye, similar to the stories you had heard of the Harrington Charm, or so it was called.

“Funny enough, I’ve heard a lot about you too, Steve,” you replied, huffing as his name left your mouth. “This town can’t stop talking about you. King Steve and how you’re so irresistible.”

The last word in your mouth dripped with venom, squinting your eyes at the suggestive look on his face.

Silence held the next few moments, Robin looking at the ceiling as she muttered words under her breath. It sounded something like a prayer.

“Would you like to find out, Yn?” His voice was low as his eyes bored into you, teeth dragging across his bottom lip as your name escaped his lips. Hair hung into his eyes, head tilted down slightly as he leaned forward an inch. Your breath hitched at the small movement, words at a loss.

Robin shot up from the couch suddenly, arms thrown into the air as she turned around to face the two of you. She shook her shoulders, grimacing at the interaction. “Okay!”

Steve slowly dragged his eyes away from you, smirk disappearing as he glanced up at the brunette. Just like that, King Steve was gone. He settled back into the arm of the couch as his eyebrows were raised to his hairline, lips parted as he stared at your best friend.

“Enough of whatever that was,” Robin tried to blink away the memory, hands resting at her hips. She turned to look at the coffee table behind her, leaning over to grab the abandoned bottle of vodka and the deck of cards. Grimace still present amongst her features, she held them up. “Drinking game, anyone?”

The night continued among the three of you, shots being poured as matching face cards were being thrown onto the table. You were pretty drunk at this point, vision blurring as you leaned into your friend. She was resting her head on top of yours, laughing at something Steve was doing.

He had stuck a card to his forehead, trying to guess which one it was. His eyes were glazed over, slightly hooded with intoxication as him and Robin bickered back and forth about the number of cards there was in deck.

He was losing the debate, set on why Robin was wrong. You had a dopey smile on your face, enjoying the interaction between the two of them. You could see why they got along, energies so different, yet so similar.

“Harrington, you’re so wrong,” Robin laughed, shaking her head as she ripped the card off of his face. A small red mark was left behind, Steve groaning as he rubbed it.

She stood up from the floor, stretching her arms out as she walked away from where you all were surrounding the coffee table.

“I’m starving, Steve, come with me,” she demanded, holding a hand out to help the man up as he complained.

“What about me?” You asked, frowning as you watched him begin to trail her into the kitchen. Your question went unanswered, the two disappearing around the corner.

You sighed to yourself, laying out your body on the floor as the room began to spin in circles. Eyes closing, you held your breath, praying you sober up a little before the end of the night comes upon you.

The look on Steve’s face flashed behind the darkness of your eyes, the sound of your name in his voice echoed in your ears. You felt a small smile creeping on you, only for you to open your eyes suddenly, viscerally shaking the memory out of your mind.

What the fuck, Yn? You questioned yourself, blinking as you looked around the room. Glancing at a clock across the room, you noticed it was half past 1 a.m., way later than you realized. Fuck, my parents are going to kill me.

You glanced towards the direction of the kitchen, head tilting back against the carpet. Robin and Steve’s voices were low, but urgent, causing you to sit up on your elbows.

You strained your ears, trying to focus in on her words.

“-don’t even know what you’re talking about.”

“Steve!”

“Whaaat?”

Their voices were heavy with the liquor, almost sounding drowsy.

“Stop trying to fuck my friends, Steve. I’m serious.”

Your heart dropped to your stomach, breath getting caught in your chest as you heard Steve laugh loudly at her words.

“Shhh!” You heard a thud, presumably the sound of her hand hitting him, based on the “Ow! What the hell!” that followed.

“Steve…”

Silence followed the conversation, your ears straining to see if the conversation continued, only for you to be met with the sound of footsteps coming your way. You panicked, moving to lay back down on the carpet. You crossed your hands over your chest, breathing fast as you tried to pretend like you hadn’t eavesdropped that entire thing.

Glancing up, you saw Steve swaying over you, hand on his hips as he smiled down at you. The overhead light shone over him, creating a halo around his perfectly styled hair.

You allowed yourself to stare for only a second before rolling your eyes.

“You’re blocking my light, Harrington,” you muttered, turning your head in the opposite direction.

He chuckled, moving so he sat next to you. He sat with his legs pulled close to him, being held together with his arms as they were clasped together.

“Sorry, didn’t realize you were getting a tan,” he was sarcastic in his words, light look on his face. He stared down at you, eyes grazing over your stretched out limbs.

“Why don’t you like me, Yn?” He asked, teeth pulling at the skin on his lip.

You closed your eyes, sighing as he started up that shit again. Did you not just have that conversation earlier that night?

“I quite like you,” his voice was a whisper now, hand coming out to dance at the edge of your own sweater. You pulled your arm away from him, tucking your elbow into your side. “You’re good for Robin.”

Questioning where Robin was, you glanced in the direction of the kitchen. Coming out was muffled sounds of her moving around the refrigerator, glasses clinging into one another. She was muttering to herself, something about pickles dipped in Greek yogurt.

“I think you’d be good for me, too.” The low tone of his voice had you squeezing your legs together, watching as his eyes briefly looked down at the movement. He ran a hand through his hair, pulling the strands back into place.

“Leave me alone, Steve.” You tried to even your voice out as much as possible.

“I know you’re curious,” Steve cocked his head to the side, eyes trailing over your face. “About King Steve and his reign.”

You hacked a laugh, surprised at the boldness he had in this moment. The man’s ego was huge, even if he had the looks to back it.

“His reign? Is that what you want to call it?” Before you knew it, a small smirk of your own toyed at your lips.

“Oh, we can call it whatever you want,” the smile dropped from his lips as that darkened look took over his eyes once more. The amber glow of his irises turned nearly black, eyes narrowing as he stared into yours.

“The only thing I’m curious about,” you felt his fingers brush your clothes ribcage, ignoring the sensation, “is how there’s not a single bad thing to be said about this King Steve.”

His eyes slowly dragged over you, starting at your eyes to your lips to your chest and lingering at the spot between your thighs before returning to meet your gaze. He sucked in his bottom lip, gaze glancing towards the kitchen door as Robin began to make her way out, balancing about seven things between her arms.

She giggled, paying attention to the shaking of the items as she tried to not spill anything.

Steve’s voice dropped to a low whisper, barely audible, “Don’t you know that curiosity killed the cat?”

You gulped, eyes on him as he switched it off, getting up to help Robin as she struggled with the items. You are so fucked.

Ever since that night between the three of you, you had been tagging along with Robin and her newfound friend more. The facade had been dropped, Steve no longer being flirtatious with you as you tried your hardest to ignore him.

He began to treat you the same as Robin, making stupid jokes towards you and letting his nerdy side come out during the interactions. Your hard exterior slightly crumbled away, defenses lowering as you realized that Robin may have been right about him. They weren’t completely gone, just lowered just enough to get to know him.

He wasn’t as much as an asshole as you imagined, he spent most of nights with a bunch of kids anyways. It was surprising, you had muttered some joke about the kids being “a little too young for you, Harrington?” only to earn his disapproval back. It was the most serious he had been since you met him, eyes dropping to the floor as he shook his head. You felt bad, seeing how defensive he had been over these kids he had practically adopted.

After that interaction, you dropped the King Steve stuff, seeing that your perception of him had been completely wrong. You would love to say that a beautiful friendship was blossoming between the two of you, but it was the opposite of that. You still hated him.

Every time you looked at him, you were reminded of his past, his stupid friend group that he used to hang with. Tommy had made the past few years of your life a living hell, torments of your parents separation and alleged affairs circling in the depths of your mind.

You watched him as he sat on the back porch of his house, cigarette hanging between his fingers as he reclined in the lawn chair over looking the pool. Robin sat in the chair next to him, turning the dial of the stereo as she tried to find a station with “goddamn decent music.”

The night sky hung heavy over you, your feet dipped into the pool as you watched the two from your perch on the side of the pool.

Smoke circled around him, lacing in and out of his hair as he looked in the night sky. A single light from the sliding glass door illuminated the back yard. His hair was annoying, perfectly framing his features as he blinked into the stars of the night.

As you took in the view of him and the rest of his backyard, rolling your eyes at the wealth that stood around you. Typical Harrington and his perfect home.

“Okay, fuck this,” Robin sighed, huffing as she shut off the stereo. She rose from the lawn chair, slipping on her shoes that lay beside it. “I’m over this, I’m going to bed.”

She began walking towards the sliding door, ruffling Steve’s hair as she past him. You protested, kicking your foot in the water.

“You’re going home?” You asked, watching as she paused to speak to you.

“Gonna sleep in Steve’s parents room, they’re not home,” she shrugged, yawning as she stretched her arms over her head.

“Never home,” Steve muttered with a shake of his head, thinking it was under his breath as he took a drag of his cigarette. You glanced at him, brow crinkling slightly at his comment.

“Just come up whenever you’re tired, Yn.” Robin turned, muttering a “g’night” as she made her way into the house, sliding the door behind her.

You looked down at your feet, watching the way the water circled at your ankles. Sounds of water swirling and crickets chirping in the stickiness of the night were filling your senses. You almost forgot Harrington was there, the sound of his cigarette burning out in the water interrupting your thoughts.

You looked at him from where he flicked it in the water. He stared at the way the burned bud floated in the water, moving in small circles as it soaked up the water around it. He seemed to be in a trance, eyes unfocused as they squinted around his thoughts.

You turned your eyes towards your feet again, ignoring him. You didn’t care. He was still that same Steve you despised so much.

“You want to sit here?” Steve asked, pulling you from thoughts once more. “Waters gotta be cold.”

“Absolutely not.” You were stubborn, squaring in your shoulders as your defenses picked up. You heard him huff, breath long as he exhaled.

“Why the fuck are you so rude?” He snapped, your head quickly swiveling to look at him. He shook his head as his hand rested at his bent knee, he continued to stare into the water. The half empty cigarette box was being turned over and over in his grasp.

“Easy for you to say, Harrington,” you shot back, anger seething through you as you got out of the pool. Water dripped around your feet as you grabbed your shoes next to you. You began to storm past him, muttering curses at him. “Good fucking night, asshole.”

You stopped at his chair, glaring down at him as he looked at you, eyes shifting up in your direction as his head stayed centered. Warmth flashed over you as you imagined he looked just like The Fallen Angel in this moment, eyes rimmed red as his gaze cut into you.

You ignored the thought, leaning over him as you seethed, “I don’t know what you think this is, Harrington, but we are not friends. We'll never be friends. You made my life a living hell, and I will resent you for that for the rest of my life. These rumors painting you in good light makes me loath you even more.”

Steve scoffed at your words, getting up so he stood in front of you. You bit your tongue as he towered over you, breath heavy as he searched your face, your harsh words lingering in the air.

“I didn’t do anything to you,” he whispered, voice low as your heart thundered. You swore he could hear it as he glanced down your body. "I've been nothing but nice to you."

“Liar.” You shook your head, taking a step back as he took one in your direction.

“Okay,” he nodded his head, lips forming a frown. His hand reached up to pull at his hair, rolling his eyes as they closed with a sigh. He opened them, hand moving to rest at his hip. “Tell me then, what did I do that was so bad for you, Yn.”

“You know.”

He shook his head, not taking that answer. He remained silence.

“You know,” your voice cracked, tears prickling at the corners of your eyes.

He shook his head again, tilting his head as he examined you. His own eyes blinked rapidly, jumping back and forth between the two of yours.

You sighed, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. All of the anger dissipated, sorrow filling your chest instead.

“You let Tommy torment me, you let him say what he did about me and all of his stupid friends,” your voice was fragile, volume moving up and down as your words came out. “You might not have said anything, but that’s the worst part, Steve. You were a bystander during the worst times of my life, and you didn’t. Do. Anything.”

Your finger punched at his chest with every word, emphasizing your point. Steve looked down at the assault of the digit, grabbing it between his fingers at the last word.

His touch burned your skin, a feeling that felt so wrong, but so right at the same time.

“You’re absolutely right,” Steve agreed with you, fingers holding your hand tightly. “I was—I was terrible. I was a jerk, a coward, if you will.”

Your eyes looked up into his at his words, hearing him out.

“I’m not friends with him anymore. I met Nancy all that time ago, and things changed for me,” he continued, thumb rubbing circles over the skin. Your heartbeat quickened, glancing down at his movement. “I met Robin, and things only got better. That perception you have of me is so different. So, so different than me now.”

He left go of your hand, watching as it dropped to your side. Steve was only inches away from you, the left over tobacco scent mixing with the detergent of his clothes.

A single tear streamed down your face, your hand shooting up to wipe it away. His gaze softened, shaking his head at you.

“It appears King Steve has dropped his crown,” he muttered, earning a small laugh out of you. You dropped your head, stepping back as a small smile tugged at the corners of your mouth.

Steve’s laugh followed your own, chuckling low as yours picked up. The two of you stood there laughing at each other, an ache in your side forming as you realized the ridiculous situation you were in.

You both quieted down, staring at each other as the moonlight filled the sky above you. The buzzing of the porch light filled the air.

Steve’s eyes were huge in this lighting, his long lashes curled up towards his brows. The small pout of his lips were wet from his tongue darting out, licking at the skin. Moles dotted his skin, cheeks full as joy crossed his features.

You could see him in this light, for who he truly was. That asshole image may have lingered in the back of your mind, but you could see that he was truthful in his speech.

“I may miss him, you know,” you said, looking at your feet as the words came out. “King Steve.”

You glanced up at him, crossing your arms over your chest. His eyes were dark again, mouth pressed into a thin line.

“Oh?” You couldn’t pull the emotion off of his face, a mask placed over it.

You nodded, continuing, “I never got to know him the way most people did.”

Smirking at your words, you turned towards the house and walked up towards the sliding glass door. You didn’t bother looking back at him, opening up the glass as you stepped through muttering a goodnight as you entered the house.

It was dark in there, the only light illuminating was the one hanging over the staircase. The image of the look on Steve’s face burned in your mind, how his dark eyes reflected the moonlight. As you trekked up the stairs on your way to meet Robin, you couldn’t help but think that you took things too far at the end. You’ve hated him all this time, why all of a sudden did you want to mess with his head about the idea of King Steve ?

Reaching the end of the hall, your hand reached for the doorknob, stopping in its place as you heard footsteps running up the stairs, fast in their pace.

Your brow furrowed, turning towards that direction as you watch Steve ascend the stairs, turning the corner to the hall in your direction. He was slightly out of breath, colored in the cheeks.

“You want to?” He blurted out, fast paced with his words. You were confused.

“Huh?”

He was crossing the distance to you, eyes determined on yours. Your hand was still placed on the doorknob, grip loose.

“Harrington, what are you talking ab-”

Your words were cut off as Steve closed the distance, crashing his mouth into yours. His hands came up to rest on the sides of your face as your eyes shot open in surprise at the intrusion. Your hand left the doorknob, resting at his chest to push him away.

“What the hell was that,” you exclaimed, finger digging in his chest. Smiling at you, his hands still present on your cheeks as he tugged at his bottom lip.

He made a shushing motion with his lips, stepping closer to place his mouth on yours again. You didn’t protest, fluttering your eyes shut as his mouth began to move into yours, molding into the perfect shape.

His mouth was soft, tongue darting out to lick between your lips, an urgency as you were pulled into him. One of his hands left your face, finding your waist to press his torso into yours. Huffing, the firmness of his body against yours left you breathless as you leaned up into the kiss.

He pulled away, placing two quick pecks to yours before placing a step back. The absence of his hands on your body left a chill throughout your spine. Eyes glazed over, you blinked at him, tongue running over the feeling of him on your lips.

Steve was smug, hands on his hips as he smiled at you. Your mouth flapped open and close, not finding the words to say to him in that moment. You should be repulsed at him, that was your first thought, but you couldn’t be bothered.

“I-I don’t know what to say.” Your fingers came to brush at your mouth, looking anywhere but him. It was the first time you had been shy around him. You were starting to understand the Harrington Effect.

“You don’t need to,” he rushed, crossing the distance to you one last time to crash his mouth into yours.

He pulled you into him simultaneously pushing you into the wall next to the doors of his parents room. Your body hit it with a full yet loud thud, not caring about waking Robin in the moment.

Your mouth moved in sync with Steve’s, hands coming up to mess up its perfect style and leg curling up to rest at his upper thigh. He moaned into your mouth as his hands gripped your ass, pulling your hips into his.

This is wrong, you found yourself thinking as Steve pulled away to mouth at your neck. He sucked bruises into the delicate skin, fingers digging into your flesh. Your hands roamed free, wildly pulling at his belt his teeth grazed your earlobe.

His bulge ground into the fabric of your jean shorts, leaving you breathless as you fumbled with his buckle.

“S-Steve,” you panted into his hair, arching into his grasp.

You felt the smug fuck smile at your neck, breath sending a chill down your spine. “So needy, baby.”

The nickname had you mewling, panting even further as once of his hands came to help with you the buckle. He freed himself, leather straps hanging at his waist as he unbutton the jeans, pulling the zipper down.

Your hand reached inside, grabbing his heavy cock. You both gasped at the feeling, Steve throwing his head back at the sensation of you tugging at him under his pants. The sounds echoing through the air were filthy—Steve groaning, the wet slickness of your hand on his cock, your dirty words of affirmation flowing out of your mouth.

His hand came to rub at you through your shorts, the thick material making you see stars. Your own head hit the wall, the thud louder than before.

“Shhh baby,” he muttered, pushing them to the side as his fingers brushed over your clothed opening. He smirked at you, low groan escaping his mouth as you were already dripping wet. You huffed, squeezing at the base of his cock in retaliation, feeling the way his hips jutted out.

“C-can’t wake Robin,” he gasped, hips moving rhythmically in sync with your strokes. His head was dripping wet, the inside fabric of his underwear soaking it up.

You felt his fingers prodding at your entrance, the thick jean and thin material of your underwear pushed to the side. They brushed your folds, collecting slick as he applied pressure to the sensitive bud.

“Need you, Steve, fuck,” your face was twisted in pleasure, core throbbing as he continued to tease you. The look on his face let you know he was falling apart at your touch too, brow furrowed as his bottom lip was sucked into his mouth.

He removed himself from you, tucking the exposed part back into his pants. Grabbing your hand, he pulled you down the hall, leading to an open door. He pushed you inside, shutting it behind him as he pushed you down on the bed.

You bounced, half smiling as you rid yourself of your shirt, throwing it across the room. The jeans shorts followed, leaving you exposed in your bra and panties.

Steve stood at the end of the bed, gaze roaming over your figure as that familiar dark look took over his features.

“The things you’re doing to me,” he breathed, crossing his arms at his waist as he pulled his shirt over his head. The sight of his chest, littered with hair at the top, made a rush of heat go straight to your core.

Your eyes followed his hands, watching as they pulled down his jeans, still unbuttoned from the hallway. His boner pushed at the front of his boxers, wet patch present as the material tented.

His eyes followed your eyeline, smirking at you as he saw your legs subconsciously opening wider. Your hand came down to rub between your legs, the panties becoming stickier with each passing moment.

“You want me to show you, baby?” His voice was taunting, leaning over the bed to make his slow crawl over your body. You nodded, eyes big with desire as you felt his heat over you. “Say it.”

“I-I want you t-to show me, Steve,” you moaned, free hand reaching up to grab at his neck. He stopped its movement, hand loose at the wrist as he sucked his teeth.

"Ah ah ah, say it again." His low voice had you falling apart, wetness pooling between your thighs.

"I want you to show me, Steve." Clearer this time, you arched into him spreading your legs so he lay between. He smirked and let go, leaning down to briefly kiss your lips before making his way down your neck.

The urgency you felt in your body contradicted his slow, languid movements. You felt the admiration in his movements, teeth nipping at your skin lightly, his tongue soothing over the marks. He made his way down, kissing over what seemed like every inch of you.

As he spread your legs, he maintained eye contact with you, hair falling into his eyes. His fingers rested at the waistband of your panties, mouth pressing light kisses over your clit. The fabric was thin enough to feel the heat of your breath, and it had you mewling.

"You're so beautiful, Yn," he whispered as he pulled the piece of fabric off of you. Your hand reached up to brush his hair out of his eyes, leaning up on your elbows so you could get sight of him.

His tongue darted out, licking at your clit as you exhaled deeply. Your hips jutted out, trying to feel the full heat of his mouth as his tongue gave you tiny licks, teasing you. Steve's smirk grew, arm resting at your waist to hold you down.

"'M just getting started, my love."

He began to suck at you, tongue dipping in and out of your folds as one of his fingers found your entrance, pushing in. You watched as his eyes fluttered shut, moaning at the taste of you.

It was heaven watching him. Seeing the way his face was pushed into you, fingers moving in and out of you with a fever. They curled inside of you, toying at the bundle of nerves deep in your walls. Clenching around him, your hips began to stutter, the weight of his arm adding a pressure that made your head feel light.

Bliss approached you, slowly then all at once. You swore you blacked out for a moment, vision going white as he licked you through the pleasure. Your breath was fast, chest heaving as that familiar over stimulation worked its way through your thighs.

Steve pulled away, satisfied with your unraveling. He licked the taste of you off of his lips, rising to his knees as he pulled his boxers down. His cock sprung free, dark red at the head as it dripped in desperation.

His hand came to stroke himself, squeezing small drops of precum out of the head.

"Steve," you groaned, hand reaching to grab at him. His hips angled towards your reach, he groaned as you made contact. You gave him short strokes, focusing your attention at the head.

"You wanna give me a little taste, sweetheart?" His sweet words of affirmation had you soaked with anticipation once again, a nod coming in reply. You repositioned yourself, lying on your stomach, propped up on your elbows as you licked at his head.

A low groan escaped him, hand coming to rest at the back of your head. You took him in your mouth, lips stretching over his girth as you opened up for him.

His hand pushed on your head, forcing down some of the length that you felt shy in taking. You sucked at him, looking up at him falling apart with small thrusts of his hips into your mouth. His head was angled to the side, eyes closed as you saw them move behind his lids. His mouth was open, free hand gripping at the roots of his hair.

He looked beautiful in this light, chest glistening as a sheen of sweat covered him. His hand guided your mouth, feeling the suction of your lips over his shaft. The way his hips stuttered into you had you choking, drool pooling at the corners of your mouth.

"M not gonna last, baby," he muttered, removing himself as you looked up at him. Steve glanced down at himself, seeing the way his cock shone with the glistening of your spit.

His eyes rolled, teeth digging into his bottom lip at the sight. You understood the feeling, the both of you being so turned on, it fucking hurt.

"Turn around for me." Rising to your hands and knees, you positioned yourself, arching your back. Blind to his movements, you heard him shuffle behind you, warm hands gripping at your waist that sent a shock to your spine.

His cock nudged at your entrance, a burn coming as he stretched you open. A high moan escaped your lips, hips running from the intrusion. His hands pulled you right back, cock pushing in even further.

"Shh, baby," he whispered, running his hand up your spine to soothe you. "It'll be okay."

You nodded, looking back over your shoulder at him admiring the way you stretched over him. As he pushed in further, the stretch burned even more. The pain was soothed away by the rubbing of his hands and the words of encouragement he gave you.

"'S okay," he muttered, pushing to the hilt. "I'm right here, baby."

Your knuckles were shaking as you gripped the sheets below you. Your eyes fluttered closed, a sigh escaping your lips.

"All right here, baby. I'm not gonna hurt you." His hips reared back before pressing in again, your back arching as pleasure flowed through your body.

"Steve, fuck," you moaned his name, feeling the way he pushed into you over and over, movements slow. He grabbed onto your hips, fucking into you as the sounds of slapping skin echoed through the room.

"You're taking it so good, my love."

His words had you gasping, hips shooting back to meet his movements half way. Seeing the effort you gave him back, his thrusts became faster, fucking into you with a passion.

Steve's words continued praising you, I love to see you falling apart and feels good, baby? and take it, you love my dick so much. You were panting his name, the only word you could focus on.

That pleasure arched up your spine once more, legs shaking with the promise of release. Your orgasm hit you like a truck, falling to the bed as Steve followed you to it. His large stature hung over your body, fucking you through your high.

You couldn't help, but press your face into the mattress, pleasure rippling through you as his movements quickened. You felt him approaching his own high as his words became short, breath raising a pitch.

"F-fuck, Yn," his voice was even an octave higher, face pressing in between your shoulder blades. His thrusts were irregular, slamming into you as the entire bed rocked. "Gon-gonna cum, baby, f-fuck, you did so well."

He released into you, pressing deep as you felt him fill you up. The warmness of his cum made you moan again, the thick liquid threatening to spill out the sides of his cock deep within you.

"Such a good job," he whispered to you before pulling out, collapsing next to you. He lay on his back, hand reaching out to rest at the small of your back.

You turned your head towards him, blinking slow as you took in the mess of the man. His hair was sticking to his face, cheeks red, and wetness around his mouth. He stared back at you, smirk ever present.

"I still hate you, Harrington," you whispered to him, noticing the way your legs felt numb. Sensing the irony in your words, you felt him leak out of you. A grimace crossed your face.

He laughed out loud, winking at you. He leaned to press a kiss to your nose, watching the way it crinkled under his touch.

"I'm sure you do, sweetheart."

You hid your smile in the sheets, rolling your eyes shut. Happiness warmed your body, the lingering effects of your orgasm. A gnawing feeling came to your heart, chest pounding for a different reason. You had fallen for it, the typical Harrington charm. At that moment, you tried not to tell yourself that things may be different, thinking of his words earlier.

He was different than before, however, the thoughts of King Steve still plagued your mind. This couldn't end well, Steve doesn't end well. You opened your eyes, finding him still staring at you.

"You know, I meant what I said, right?" He asked you, seemingly reading your mind. You blinked at him, ready to push that hard exterior forward. "I am different than I was."

Warmth filled your chest, hope bubbling at the surface.

"I don't know if I believe you," you whispered, voice sounding small in the big room. He pressed his lips together, mouth dropping at the corner.

"Let me show you," he replied, hand coming to brush the hair behind your ear. "Let me do that at least."

Hesitation came over you, silence filling the air between you. A few moments passed as he searched your eyes for any sign of emotion. It was like you had an angel and devil on each shoulder, warning you yet jumping for joy at the same time.

You slowly nodded, a sigh escaping your lips. Steve beamed at you, eyes squinting with the smile.

"I swear, Harrington, if you do anything to fuck me over, I will murder you," you shook your head, not believing you'd give him a chance. He leaned over again, pressing another kiss to your lips this time. His smile was contagious, you fought it back.

"Is that a promise?"

masterlist. requests and inbox are open.

#i can’t get over robin lately #so she’s gonna be the bestie in everything #i love her #my writing #steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #fanfic #smut #steve harrington smut #enemies to lovers #dom steve harrington

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hairmetal666 · 3 months

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Steve knows he falls in love too easily. Nancy told him, Robin too.

But falling in love with Eddie Munson is hard.

They're supposed to be friends after Vecna. They're supposed to be friends, but Steve can't get past what Eddie did in the Upside Down; how he put himself in a position to nearly die, how Dustin got hurt. It's not fair. He knows it's not, but it doesn't make the anger go away.

Eddie's part of the group now, though, and Steve won't leave him out, no matter how angry. They're all at movie nights, at pool parties, at Hellfire, at Corroded Coffin gigs. It's just that Steve and Eddie don't speak. And Steve is okay with it. If it's what it takes to make sure that they're all hanging out together, not talking to Eddie is a small thing. He's pretty sure Eddie doesn't mind. At least, he seems as uninterested in hanging out with Steve as Steve is with him.

It doesn't need to be anything more than that, and it isn't, not until Steve goes upstairs to get more sunscreen during one of the pool parties, and walks back downstairs to find Munson waiting for him in his kitchen.

"You need something?" He asks, unable to fully hide the way he jolts with surprise.

Eddie twists the rings on his fingers, something Steve's noticed he does whenever he's nervous. "You have a problem with me, Harrington?

"No, of course not," he answers too fast.

"C'mon, man. You can barely stand to be in the same room with me."

"That's not true! We're in one together right now."

Eddie rolls his eyes so hard that it has to hurt. "Don't do that. Don't pretend like you don't know what I mean. You can't stand to be alone with me for more than thirty seconds."

Steve splutters, searching for a plausible reason.

"Is it cause--" Eddie swallows, hand going back to cup his neck. "Is it cause you heard me tell Robin that I'm gay? Back at the hospital. Is it because--" he cuts himself off.

Something in Steve's chest clenches hard, warmth swooping dangerously in his stomach. "No," Steve says, means it. "I didn't hear. I didn't-- it has nothing to do with that. It's--that's cool. Thanks for--yeah, that's cool."

Eddie's smile is a brittle little thing. "Then, what else?" Eddie pulls a chunk of hair over his mouth. "I can't think of any other reason you'd hate me so much."

"I don't." And Steve hopes it's coming off as genuine. "I promise."

He can't help remember the camaraderie, the understanding, that started to grow between them in the Upside Down. The "don't cha, big boy?" of it all. They could be friends. They should be.

They shouldn't get into it. Not right here, not right now when the kids' splashes and excited screams filter through the sliding door.

"You're a shit liar, Harrington."

"Ed--I'm not--"

"You know what? Don't bother. I'll just--" He jolts in the direction of the front door.

"Don't be stupid, Munson."

"God, I can't believe I didn't see it before. You just fucking loathe me."

"I do not. Grow up."

"Oh, yeah? Then what's your problem?"

"There isn't--"

"Stop lying!"

"You didn't fucking think!" He shouts. Loud enough that the noise outside cuts off. "You pulled that shit in the Upside Down and you almost died! Dustin got hurt!"

Eddie blinks his big brown eyes in stunned surprise.

"I told you, I said, 'dont try to be cute or be a hero or something.' And you know what you said? Do you?"

Eddie won't look at him now. "I had to make a choice, Steve."

"It was the wrong one!"

"I would do it all again. No matter what you say. I would do it to draw the bats away. To protect Dustin."

"But you didn't."

"There was no other way to stop them, Steve! They would've gotten through, into Hawkins."

"It doesn't matter."

"You weren't there! You can't tell me--"

"Yes, I can! I know."

"You don't! You think--"

"I almost lost you!" He screams. "You nearly died in my arms, Eddie. And for what?"

Falling in love with Eddie wasn't easy. It was blood and near death; it was weeks in a cold hospital room while Eddie existed in a drug-induced twilight state; it was agonizing convalescence and physical therapy and changing bandages; it was Eddie leading dnd sessions with bright eyes and contagious enthusiasm, herding the kids to the arcade and video store, theatrically serving snacks at movie night; it was festering, senseless anger at the near loss of something.

Eddie's lips tremble. "Steve, I--"

"It doesn't matter." He turns away to slide a hand down his face in an effort to wipe away the emotion. "You're fine and we're--it doesn't matter."

"I'm sorry," he whispers. "Steve, I'm sorry. I wanted--I thought it would help. I thought--"

And Steve has to admit, he does, the whole terrible contradiction of it all. "I know," he whispers back. "I would've--I know."

"I thought I was protecting Dustin. I thought I was buying you guys time with Vecna." Eddie's voice breaks. "I didn't--I--" He squeezes his eyes shut.

In the quiet of the kitchen, they gravitate to one another, foreheads resting together.

"I should have been there, Ed. I shouldn't have left you two alone. You almost died, and I--"

"Sweetheart, I'm right here. We're right here."

They don't kiss, but they're close enough that their mouths brush with each breath they take.

"Don't do that, again." Steve clenches his fists into Eddie's cutoff t-shirt. "Promise you won't ever--"

"I promise, Stevie. I promise. I'll be by your side until the very end, whatever it is."

#steddie #steve x eddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #ficlet #angst #angst with a happy ending #getting together #falling in love #protective steve harrington #oblivious eddie munson #mutual pining #steve harrington is bad at feelings #not quite rivals not quite enemies but a secret third thing to lovers #it's angst but then it's sweet #we're all traumatized here

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corrodedseraphine · 11 months

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perfectly wrong | #1 I wish you hadn't saved me

pairing: steve harrington x fem!reader

chapter summary: When you all get together to say goodbye to Corroded Coffin before going on tour, the evening ends with a standard argument between you and Steve. The next day, under the influence of a massive hangover, he wonders if he might have overreacted, when he gets called to help with a patient. From a conversation between a doctor and another nurse, he learns that the person who showed up is in a very difficult situation. He was definitely not ready for who he finds there.

TW: mentions of pregnancy, domestic violence, blood, wounds and bruises, let me know if I forgot about something!

The story is also avaliable on ao3

masterlist | steve harrington masterlist | general masterlist

@phantypurple thank you so much for helping me with this whole "enemies" thing, I am new in it and your support really helped me ❤

Before we start!I don't have much knowledge about pregnancy, being a nurse etc, which doesn't change the fact that I will try to do research and write everything in the best way possible, I hope you will forgive me!

In the beginning, everything may seem quite chaotic, I do not hide it and I realize that after reading the first chapter you will be a bit confused and many questions will appear, but with each chapter I will try to develop it and clear up doubts.

Your opinion, feedback, questions or ideas are always welcome! If there is something what would you like to see in the story feel free to tell me about it in comments or in my inbox which is always open for you guys! Thank you so much for reading!

As soon as you crossed the threshold of The Hideout Robin immediately shouted your name. You cut through the crowd of people and with a smile on your lips made your way to your friends. Today was Corroded Coffin's first concert after the "earthquake." When Eddie finally recovered from everything that had happened he couldn't wait m until he returned to the stage. At first everyone thought that after what he experienced in the Upside Down he wouldn't be able to look at a guitar again, but he surprised you all. All the experiences inspired him to write many of the songs that, with the help of the government, will make up the band's first album. So this was the first and last concert for the guys before they set out to follow their dreams. You as good friends couldn't miss it.

"Am I late?" you asked, sitting down between Robin and Argyle.

"No, they are just getting ready to go on stage. I'm glad you're here." your friend said.

"I know, Ro. I'm sorry." You said grabbing her hand with a gentle expression on your face. Since your private life had turned everything around you had kept your encounters with other people to a minimum. You isolated yourself completely, however, you couldn't miss today's concert, you knew it was too important to just not come.

"And who my beautiful eyes see!" Steve shouted and with a loud clang he set down his beer bottle. This was definitely not his first. "Look who has kindly decided to show up!"

"I really don't have the energy for your drama, Steve." You sighed rolling your eyes.

"Woah! So you know my name?" he fiercely rambled on.

This is what it looked like. Your relationship with Steve was...complicated. No one expected you to end up at a stage where you couldn't stand each other in the same room. The sarcastic comments from his mouth were something quite gentle anyway. Normally you wouldn't have let it go however today you really didn't have the strength to do so, so you just ignored him and didn't answer anything.

The concert was going nicely, one could say too nicely, considering that for over an hour you didn't hear a single offensive word in your direction, and you really enjoyed your first meeting with friends in a long time. Unfortunately, it was the lull before the storm.

Steve definitely needed to de-stress, from what Robin told you he had failed a pretty important exam, so he decided to drown his sorrows in alcohol. Beer after beer he became more and more fussy and irritated. He was like a walking time bomb that went off when you refused Eddie's proposed drink.

"Now aren't we worthy of you having a drink with us?" he mischievously snorted with laughter.

"Steve, I really don't have the strength to deal with you tonight."

"And that's not the case? It seems that instead of having a drink with the people you claim to be your friends you prefer the company of your boyfriend and his pile of alcoholics. Did you start doing drugs with them, too?" he leaned back on his elbows. You knew he wouldn't let go, wouldn't let go until the two of you started arguing and he would pour out all his frustration that way. You could feel your blood boiling inside you and you were feeling breathless. "What? You won't say anything? You always have too much to say." He grinned feeling that he had the upper hand over you.

"Do I look like I want to debate with you?" You snapped.

"I don't know, through that ton of makeup it's hard to read what your real expression is."

"Steve!" Robin interrupted you. "Control yourself!"

"You're still defending her?!" He got what he wanted. He got his five minutes. "For the last two weeks she does nothing but ignore you, and then I'm the one who has to hear about how much you miss her! You consider her your friend and she just doesn't give a shit about you! All of you!"

"It's not true!" you wanted to defend yourself. In truth you really wanted to, but you knew that from their point of view it really all looked like that.

"Yes? Then what was more important than meeting your friend, what was more important than being there for her when she needed you when Vicky broke her heart?" He knew he was in control and it made him happy. Unhealthy pleasure derived from your embarrassment and confusion.

"What? Robin, why-" you were shocked. You had no idea.

"Are you going to ask now why she didn't tell you? Let me explain." He didn't waste a moment to crush you into the ground even more. He was giving you needle after the needle. "She wanted to tell you, but of course you didn't have time for her. I don't even know which hopeless excuse on your part it was then why you supposedly couldn't meet. But no problem, you can rehabilitate yourself and tell the truth now." He crossed his arms over his chest and stuck his satisfied gaze into you. You opened your mouth to say something but quickly closed it and pressed your lips into a thin line. He was right, you yourself no longer remembered which excuse you used then. You were already lost in them, but the truth would not pass your throat for anything in the world. Not when all eyes were on the two of you. Not when Steve humiliated you without considering how many people were around. "That's what I thought. What about Max and El? Did you forget about them too? Do you know that since you stopped helping El with her lessons she barely manages to pass? Do you think you are better than them? You don't deserve any of them. No one!"

You couldn't stay standing there any longer. Feeling tears coming to your eyes without saying a word, you began to push through the crowd to the exit. You had no idea about Robin, you had no idea about El, you had no idea about anything. Locked in your own tragedy, you also cut yourself off from those who could always count on you and left them without the support they had become so accustomed to. He was right. You hated him for the way he treated you, but you hated yourself even more for the fact that everything he said was the cruel and painful truth. Moreover, by leaving you gave him another reason for which he could haunt you. You didn't stay to say goodbye to Eddie and the rest of the boys before they left. They would only be back in three months, and by then nothing would be the same.

You walked ahead wiping away tears. No matter how much you wanted you couldn't go back there. You weren't able to. Life was crashing down on your head, and his comments and reminders of what a hopeless person you were made you feel even worse. You wanted to disappear. To sink into the ground, to run away somewhere where your problems wouldn't reach you, but this couldn't happen. You were grounded here. Ironically, you would rather be grounded in the Upside Down now than be in your current situation.

When you arrived at the house you tried to enter as quietly as you could. In your spirit you prayed that your boyfriend, Travis, would already be asleep and not wake up. Unfortunately, fate decided to test your strength once again. Inside you found him sitting in front of the TV and an almost empty bottle of vodka standing on the coffee table.

"Where the hell have you been?!" he asked as soon as he heard your footsteps in the hallway. At that moment you already knew that a very long night was ahead of you.

Drinking so much alcohol the day before the morning shift was not a wise idea. Feeling dehydrated and drained of life, he sat in an uncomfortable chair with a face hidden in his hands and a nasty headache. He had just taken a painkiller, so it will have to be a long while before it takes effect. In addition, he couldn't stop thinking about yesterday's events. You never gave up when it came to arguing. Everything always ended in a shouting match. You were never so...quiet? Confused? Lost? You never showed your feelings either. Certainly not in front of him. Nor have you ever walked away with tears in your eyes. Did he exaggerate this time? Guilt slowly crept into his head.

"Tough night?" he heard from behind him. It was Judy, one of the senior nurses who had not run away from Hawkins after everything. She was also one of the better ones who saw him as more than just the Harringtons' son. She treated him like a normal trainee, for which he was grateful.

"Mhmmm." he muttered, still not opening his eyes. "We were saying goodbye to Eddie before going on tour," he said.

"I can't believe he finally made it. Do you think I'll be able to brag about how I changed his bandages?" she laughed quietly while making herself some coffee.

"I'm sure he'll write a song about it." he replied with a joke and fell silent. The silence between them was broken by the doctor's entrance into the room.

"She's here again." she sighed heavily. "Another 'fall'."

"Are you sure we can't report this anywhere?" Judy pinched the tip of her nose and furrowed her brow. This person's condition must have really worried her.

"If we report domestic violence and she denies everything the police won't do anything anyway,"

"She is pregnant, Linda. This is a very serious case."

"The only thing we can do at this point is to talk some sense into her and try to persuade her to agree to help."

"She's as stubborn as a mule, and I doubt she'll agree,"

"Sooner or later it will come to her that she will have a child and it is its safety that should be the most important thing for her. For this moment we have to go, Steve you will take care of sewing up the wound, and you Judy will help me with the gynecological examination."

"Come on boy..." the nurse sighed patting him on the back.

He walked sluggishly along the corridor contemplating the women's conversation. How scared must this girl have been that she didn't run away from this deviant? Did she really have no one to help her?

Entering the room, he was not ready for the sight that awaited him there. In the sterile white room, you sat in a chair staring at the floor, pressing a towel to your shoulder. A towel that was soaked with blood. When you raised your eyes and noticed him you froze. Steve also turned pale with surprise and horror at your condition. You were the girl they were talking about. The truth seemed too horrible to believe right away. There was a nasty bruise on your face, and when you moved the towel away from your arm an elongated wound appeared, from which blood would not stop pouring.

"What happened to you dear child?" Judy asked, looking at you with compassion in her eyes. Although you were no longer such a child, legally in every aspect you were already an adult. You quickly tore your gaze away from Steve and looked at the older nurse.

"I- I fell over. I fell on a glass bottle and a piece of it stuck in my shoulder...the blood won't stop flowing, when I fell I also hit my stomach, it hurts a lot, I was scared that..." you said quietly, ashamed looking at a single point on the floor. You knew that neither the doctor nor the nurse believed you. You also knew that, as if on a platter, you had given another reason from which Steve could create another level of your personal hell. He, however, was still looking on in disbelief at what was happening. The whole situation seemed to him as if it was made up. It was impossible that it was really you, that you were sitting completely defenseless as a victim of domestic violence. A pregnant victim of domestic violence. Holy shit, he was getting weak. It wasn't possible that after all you'd been through in the Upside Down, life was putting more hurdles in your way. You were fighting monsters from another dimension and you couldn't deal with your boyfriend? He didn't understand anything anymore.

"Steve take care of the wound. Make sure there's no more glass there, clean it up and apply stitches. We'll be back in a minute to do the rest of the examination." Dr. Linda ordered and together she and Judy went to get the equipment needed.

Not knowing how to behave, he simply began to prepare everything and sat very close to you. He took a deep breath. A very uncomfortable silence fell between you and the atmosphere was tense. After putting on his gloves, he gently grabbed your hand with both hands to take a closer look at the wound. Your inhalation stopped midway and your body stiffened all over.

"Do you need some anesthetic? It might hurt." He said in a nervous voice and corrected his glasses.

"I can handle it." you muttered.

"Are you sure? It really can-"

"I'm sure, Harrington." You growled interrupting him and turned your head toward the window, and he silently began to dispose of the glass shards.

Your hissing in pain did not escape his attention. To make matters worse, he also noticed the single tears that flew down your cheeks. As he was putting the stitches in place memories of last night began to fly through his head. Everything he said in your direction. Every word went straight to the heart of the problem. Glancing at your face every now and then, he could feel it getting fainter as he stopped at the purple area under your eye. Now he knew why you were wearing so much makeup. He knew what you wanted to hide and that scared him even more. He now understood why you refused to have a drink. Everything seemed so obvious now. Why didn't you tell anyone about this? He thought of the evening when Robin cried her eyes out because of Vicky. He was furious with you for not even being there for her at such a time. He was furious that you left her alone, but now he knew. He knew why, he knew the reason you canceled all your meetings. You didn't want anyone to know about what was going on. But now he knew now. This realization became a burden he didn't know how to lift.

"Y/n, listen...I- I want to apologize for yesterday. I was an asshole, I shouldn't have said all that." he said quietly. Shocked, you looked at him. He had said many awful things about you but never apologized for it. After a moment, though, surprise turned into a stony face.

"I don't need your sympathy or pity." you replied dryly. "You don't need to lie about being sorry, I know that's not true."

"Y/n..." normally he would have already started to get irritated that you wouldn't accept an apology causing another argument, but now he didn't feel an ounce of anger at you. He himself didn't know exactly what he felt.

"You weren't supposed to find out about all this. Believe me, if I didn't have to I wouldn't be sitting here right now, sitting here with you is much worse." He was already used to these kinds of words coming from your mouth, but never in his life had it been accompanied by tears, and he knew it must have meant you were on edge. "But there is one thing we agree on." You looked him straight in the eye. "I wish you hadn't saved me that night too." you were too tired. You had survived one hell only to immediately land in another. After a sleepless night and a morning full of screaming, you no longer had the strength to keep up the mask that everything was fine and you were handling it. Your life was one big mess and this was just the beginning.

"No, y/n-" before he could say anything further the women came back into the room. He knew what they were talking about. He remembered perfectly the moment when he said those words, and to this day he regretted it. No matter how bad the relationship between the two of you looked, he knew it was too much.

"How's the arm?" the Doctor asked when they returned to the room.

He coughed before speaking. "I took out the remaining shards of glass and cleaned it carefully. Just two more stitches and everything will be ready."

"Well done." She praised him by sending him a warm smile, and then turned to you. "You mentioned very severe abdominal pains, I'd like you to lie down now. We'll run some tests to make sure the baby is okay."

To make sure the baby is okay. Baby. You were pregnant. You were pregnant and a victim of domestic violence. I wish you hadn't saved me that night too. Your words gained more and more frightening meaning making his heart sinking.

While the examinations were being carried out he took care of cleaning up the position after sewing up your hand. This did not take long. Dr. Linda reassured you by saying that everything was fine, but pointed out that you should try to avoid stressful situations. What did that even mean? Your life now was one big stressful situation, how the hell were you supposed to avoid it?

"Now listen to me carefully." she looked at you. "If you ever decide to talk to someone about your "falls", remember that you are safe here and we can help you. You just have to let us do it. We'll take care of you and the baby, okay?"

You just nodded your head. You couldn't do that. You couldn't get away from him no matter how much you wanted to. "Let me walk you out." You quickly got up and followed the doctor.

Before leaving you looked at Steve one last time. He wanted to say something, anything that would erase all of yesterday's words, but it was impossible. With a broken expression on his face, he could only watch the door close behind you and think about the fact that you were on your way home, where your abuser was waiting for you. He involuntarily clenched his fists at the very thought that Travis might once again lay a hand on you. He was filled with emotions he couldn't recognize.

"You know this girl, don't you?" Judy asked with a sigh. Steve just nodded affirmatively. "You're a good guy, Steve. It's good that she has a friend like you." Her words were like a strong punch.

Oh Judy, if only you knew...

taglist (guys thank you so much for wanting to be in the taglist before the story even started! I really hope you won't be too dissapointed!): @i-me-mine @phantypurple @sheisjoeschateau @hollandweather

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