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dearharriet · 4 months

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I Want Your Video; Steve Harrington x Reader 📼

summary: steve always takes care of you on a night out.

word count: 1.4K

warnings: drinking, smoking, swearing, fem!reader, fluff

a/n: inspired by a djo song with the same title. i’m such a sucker for steve <3

“I ‘ave to go t’the bathrooom,” you tell Steve, holding tight to the hot skin of his bicep. In a drunken stupor, your thumb swipes sweetly over it once, unable to resist.

His other arm, the one you’re not holding to, has your clutch tucked under it. It’s unclear if he’s being gentlemanly or if he’s monitoring your intake. He certainly didn’t take Nancy’s or Robin’s. Or Argyle’s belly bag.

“‘Kay, be safe,” Steve says, patting your elbow. He looks a touch hot, red-cheeked and a little damp around the edges. Dancing must’ve made a mess of you if he looks so disheveled from just standing and talking. You furrow your brows.

“Come with me?” Pouting, your grip slides down to take his hand, but he pulls away.

“Uh—maybe Nance or Rob should do that.”

He says it like such a request is verboten. You look back towards Nance and Robin, relentlessly moving on the dance floor.

“They won’t go with meeee—“ you whine, and then simper when he sighs in defeat.

Steve steers you toward the stairwell that leads down to the toilets. While you weave through the crowds, he stays behind you, a steadying force at your back.

The stairwell is much cooler than the bar. It’s a relief to suck in air that’s not muggy with sweat and beer. At the bottom of the dingey stairs a couple is draped over one another talking closely, and nearer to the bathroom there’s a trio of people sharing a smoke and waiting. Steve and you take up residence just next to them. The concrete wall is cooling on your hot back and it elicits a sigh.

“Having fun?” Steve asks, facing you with his arms crossed and a shoulder leant on the wall. Your clutch is shoved in his front pocket like a miniature Bible.

“Uh-huh.” You nod with exaggerated windedness. “Wish you’d dance with me, though.”

The bathroom door clicks open and a guy comes out, nodding awkwardly at all seven heads turned his way. The queue dwindles to three again—plus Steve, who is smiling at you apologetically.

“Nah, you wouldn’t wanna see me dance. I tend to intimidate people with how skilled I am.”

A laugh bubbles out of you. “Ohhh, right,” you nod. “Must be hard, having all that talent. And you’re s’busy keepin’ me sober.” You speak so fast the words slur on the way out, and Steve chuckles teasingly.

“I’m doin’ a shit job, aren’t I? You’re in a state already.” He reaches out and brushes your arm when he says this, his knuckles leaving goosebumps behind them. When he pulls his hand back he’s grown more sincere. “Who said I’m keeping you sober? I’ve let you drink all you want.”

“You let me,” you tease, “But you’re keeping my wallet. And you’ve been watching me all night.”

“Yeah, well.” He looks defensive. “Someone’s gotta have your back.”

The bathroom door opens again, and the line shrinks even more. You pick the conversation right back up.

“What ‘bout Nance and Rob? And the guys?” Turning toward Steve, your arms cross so you’re mirroring him. “They’ve all got their wallets.”

“They’ve got each other, too.” Steve playfully swings at your shoulder, and you take the hit willingly. “Who’s got you, huh, rockstar?”

A smile splits your face with glee at the nickname. You step closer and you’re about to answer—you, you’ve got me—when Steve clears his throat.

You frown, and Steve smiles, juts his chin toward the bathroom door. It’s empty, you realize, and Steve and you are alone. It seems the third member of the bathroom trio was only company, like Steve.

“You know what to do,” Steve mutters, and you reluctantly peel away from the wall.

“Oh, wait!” You whip around and offer a hand out for your wallet. Steve gives it over wordlessly, and then you’re locking the door behind you.

As suspected, you look a mess. Your hair is frizzed and a touch tangled. Dark mauve eyeliner has smoked itself out—all over your undereye—and your cheeks are red and dampened with sweat.

Despite it all, you feel good. You brought your clutch so you could touch up your lipstick, and you do, but you don’t need to. It’s almost like what Steve said; You’re a rockstar. You look like one, anyway.

After washing your hands, the only thing you do to your appearance is fluff your hair up even more, playing up this smudged version of your original look.

It feels impossibly easy to grin at Steve once you emerge from the bathroom. Steve laughs.

“Why do I feel like you got more drunk while you were in there?”

You tighten your smile primly. “Not drunker, just better looking.”

Steve pulls his brows together almost painfully, his features unreadable. You saunter over to him anyways, stepping into his bubble. His full back is pressed to the wall now, a leg kicked up, and you’re as close as you can get without being thigh-to-knee. Steve’s nervous eyes scan you.

“Want me to take that?” Steve points to your clutch. You nod, but ignore the hand he has waiting for you. Feeling bold, you reach around him and tuck it into his back pocket. Your chests meet, and then crush closer as you both gasp. Pulling away feels suddenly impossible, so you don't, and Steve doesn’t make you. He licks his lips.

“Y’didn’t lock the door,” he mumbles, but your brain jumbles as his hand smooths over your ribs.

“Hmm?” You can’t be bothered with words, feeling more intoxicated by his touch than the three drinks in your system.

Steve rubs a small circle over your side. “The bathroom door,” he says softly, “it stayed on vacant the whole time.”

Oh, yeah. It had. Your mouth pops open, and then you shoot him a wry grin.

“Whoops.”

Steve’s responding head shake is exasperated but fond.

“You trust me too much,” he sighs.

It’s not a joke. A string of insecurity holds the sentence together, and you know what it is. It’s easy to see that he knows, too. Moving closer, committing to the embrace you’ve found yourself in, you pin Steve with a sincere stare.

“Do I?” It’s excessively rhetorical, stilling any rebuttal he has. Steve purses his lips together, and then glances at yours. You toe up ever so slightly, in anticipation. Both of Steve’s hands are on you now, though they’re holding your arms, keeping you at bay.

“We can’t,” Steve whispers, glancing at the stairwell, and you realize the bar is still upstairs with all of your friends. They’d probably come looking soon, vying for another round, another dance. You look to the stairwell too, and then to the other side of the hall, and back to Steve.

“Yet here we are.” The murmur is sultry, luring Steve closer, tempting his hand to wind into the soft hair at the nape of your neck.

“Here we are,” Steve repeats, and then your lips are abruptly too occupied by his to respond.

Steve’s hand that’s not gripping your neck winds over your shoulders, keeping you close. His nose crushes to your cheek as he drags his mouth over yours again and again.

A part of you—the same part that’s observing how good of a kisser he is—can’t believe you’re mouth to mouth with the Steve Harrington from high school. The other half, probably the truer half, knows it’s been a long time coming. Years of patching up and skirting around each other, protecting each other because you had to, and now taking care of each other because you wanted to. Because no one else would.

When you separate, you’re both breathless and effervescent. Steve is staring at you like you hung the moon.

“You’re so beautiful,” he coos, his thumb caressing the rosy apple of your cheek. Steve has a way of marrying sincerity and charm, and it needles at your heart ruthlessly.

You beam and kiss him again as a thank you.

“Think you might be glowing,” he continues, speaking right into your mouth. His teeth clack against yours as the kiss grows too smiley for its own good.

“You look pretty, too,” you goad, tracing his lips. “Cherry’s a good look on you.”

Steve pinches his brow and then notices your smeared lipstick.

“Aw, come on.”

You laugh and help him wipe it off, but when you return to the bar later, Argyle still complements Steve’s beautiful makeup.

thank you for reading ! my requests are open :)

masterlist

#steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington fic #steve Harrington x you #steve Harrington imagine #steve harrington blurb #steve harrington x y/n fluff #steve harrington x fem #Steve Harrington x reader fanfic #steve harrington fluff #steve the hair harrington #stranger things #argyle #robin buckley #nancy wheeler #king steve

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worth-the-chaos · 4 months

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Adventures in Babysitting Masterlist (ongoing)

Series Summary: As Dustin’s babysitter, you encounter the perils of the Upside Down as you try desperately to rid Hawkins of the evil lurking just below the surface. However, you’re not alone; you have the gaggle of kids as well as the one and only Steve Harrington by your side as you risk your lives attempting to solve the mysteries of your once quiet rural town | steve harrington x fem!reader (message me to be added to the taglist!)

Chapter summaries and links below the cut!

Part 1 - You haven’t been babysitting Dustin for very long. Underestimating his tendencies for rebellious behavior, you realize too late that he’s snuck out, with your dire search for the boy leading you to the last place you wanted to be: Steve Harrington’s house. | Word Count: 6.5k

Part 2 - With the events of last fall in the past, you attempt to move on, still working on your academics and babysitting Dustin. You and Steve have drifted since your encounter with the otherworldly, but he begins to make more active efforts to talk to you, making sure you have an invite to Tina’s big Halloween party. | Word Count: 6.3k

Part 3 - Billy is still hitting on you, Steve’s still mad, and Dustin’s still a pain in the ass to babysit. When he tells you and Steve that there’s a massive problem of upside down proportions, the two of you have no choice but to drop everything to help the boy, reprising your roles as badasses who eradicate the supernatural in Hawkins. | Word Count: 7.0k

Part 4 - Looking for Dart isn’t easy, but it gives you and Steve a lot of time to have a heart to heart, as you slowly start to realize your feelings for one another. | Word Count: 6.5k

Part 5 - The situation with the demogorgons gets increasingly more dire, leading you to the Byers’ house to wrangle four kids that can’t listen to save their lives (literally) while everyone tries desperately to save Will and the world. | Word Count: 8.9k

Part 6 - It’s summer, and you and Steve are working at Scoops Ahoy so that you can make money while Dustin is at summer camp. The lines between friends and something more continue to blur as your relationship with Steve gets more intimate, allowing doubt to creep in…and the Russians are invading Hawkins. | Word Count: 6.4k

Part 7 - You continue attempting to translate the code, commencing your operation to determine the nature of Russian involvement in Hawkins. Robin and Dustin continue their attempts to push the two of you together, tired of the mutual pining…oh and Erica has enough sass to probably take out an entire Russian army. | Word Count: 5.9k

Part 8 - Well, the five of you do get in that secret room, but the problem is you can’t quite find a way out. Tensions rise as you realize the gravity of the situation, the forced proximity revealing hard feelings between you and Steve. | Word Count: 7.2k

Part 9 - Held captive by the Russians, tensions rise and as you and Steve attempt to navigate communicating in a drugged up haze, your feelings for each other become even more apparent. | Word Count: 7.4k

Part 10 - The Russian invasion and the upside down begin to merge as you meet up with the rest of the crew. You are in the fight of your lives as you scramble to try to stop the monstrous creature from the upside down before it destroys you. | Word Count: 5.8k

Part 11 - Steve and you are finally officially dating, the kids are finally in high school and no longer need any sort of official babysitting, and life is overall pretty damn good. You try to push aside the unease settling in your chest, but how long can you ignore it before it manifests into something much worse than you could possibly imagine? | Word Count: 6.7k

Part 12 - The evil that you thought you had gotten rid of is still very much lurking within Hawkins. You, your boyfriend, and your friends race against time to try and find Eddie before it’s too late. | Word Count: 6.5k

Part 13 - As you all attempt to connect the dots of the gruesome murders occurring around your small but sinister town, secrets start to spill when Steve realizes you’ve been keeping things from him. | Word Count: 7.2k

Part 14 - Nancy and Robin take a shot in the dark and Steve tries to protect you from the supernatural. When the darkness comes to get you, will his love be enough to protect you? | Word Count: 6.0k

Part 15 - Racing against the clock, you and your friends desperately attempt to connect the dots before it’s too late. Your efforts bring both progress and peril as you and your boyfriend dive headfirst into life-threatening scenarios in order to save each other. | Word Count: 8.8k

Part 16 - For all your encounters with the Upside Down you hadn’t had to deal with it directly. Now, in a fight in foreign territory, you and your friends must struggle to find your way back to the Hawkins that you are familiar with. | Word Count: 9.7k

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luveline · 2 years

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𝐝𝐚𝐲 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐝𝐞𝐚𝐝 | 𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐯𝐞 𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐭𝐨𝐧 𝐱 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

summary steve likes you, eddie munson's best friend, to the point of heart palpitations. you feel the same way about him [6k]

warnings fluff, getting together, mutual pining, first kiss, first date, eddie munson is a good friend, steve is hopeless, fem!reader, reader is hellfire club adjacent, reader is an overthinker and steve is a softie, pre-s4 post-s3, no s4 spoilers besides eddie + hellfire club existing

𓆩❤︎𓆪

The first time Steve sees you he's smitten.

You're sitting on the stoop of Eddie Munson's trailer. Coolest girl he's ever seen �� and Steve doesn't go for the edgy type. Crazy cool clothes, hair all messy pretty and your eyes edged in dark makeup, you're fiddling with the cassette player in your lap, brows pinched in frustration.

Steve can't look long. He's dropping the lunch club off for some impromptu Hellfire gathering. The kids pile out, eager to see their new (no, Steve isn't bitter) friend with a chorus of rushed, half-hearted thank you's.

You push the headphones off of your ears as his kids approach.

"Hey, Y/N," they say, one by one as they enter the trailer and disappear from sight.

Steve is two seconds from leaving, swears, when he hears Lucas ask how you are.

"You know," you say, voice quiet and immediately intoxicating. Steve watches as you slowly push two fingers between your shiny lips and pretend to blow your brains out. You drop on your back and lie there for a moment, chest rising with easy, breezy laughter. The sound draws heat to his cheeks, worse the sight of your naked thighs.

He's hooked. He has to leave quickly, before you sit back up and indoctrinate him with your looks alone.

The next time he sees you is similar and not. You're sitting on the ground outside the movie theatre. Again, Steve is playing taxi cab for his doofuses, though this time the thank you's are slightly kinder, louder - he'd blown off a girl he didn't stand much chance with in the first place to bring them.

"Love you!" Dustin calls, slamming the passenger door.

You drop the cassette player in your hands and lean your head back against Eddie's thigh. Steve takes a few seconds to realise you're looking at him, head tilting this way and that to catch a glance at him through people's legs.

"Who's your friend?" he hears you ask Mike.

Mike doesn't even look. "Who? Steve? He's my sister's ex-boyfriend."

You smile at him. Steve, hating to be caught but not stupid enough to blush, nods at you through the window before turning the key. It's the suavest thing he's ever done and he's still applauding himself when you approach his window. He hadn't noticed you get up, distracted by triumph.

You knock the window. He rolls it down.

"Hi," you say.

"Hey," he says back. Then, cautiously, "You need something?"

You smell like a lot of things as you duck your head into his car. Mica and perfume and, softer, talc. Hairspray. Something else, wet like ink. He can't help looking at your make up, the rhinestones under your lower lashes, the shiny sticky pink on your lips.

"Steve," you say. He likes the way you say his name, confident, like you've always known it. You smile softly, at ends with your Joan Jett-esque levels of cool. "Do you wanna come see the movie?" Then, in what marks the beginning of the end, "With me?"

He knows he should play it out. Plus, he's startled. "I don't know, I'm just here to drop them off."

"It's okay if you have plans," you say. He catches a sneak of your tongue pressed behind - what he perhaps insanely thinks of as - cute teeth. You're talking to him in this lilting cadence that has him pinned. "But you drove all the way here, so if you're not busy…"

He pretends to consider.

"What movie?" he asks.

You bring a hand to your neck and secure a small silver pendant between your neatly lacquered nails. "Uh, it's called Day of the Dead. S'about zombies," you tell him. The way you say zombies - your voice goes high and airy, your lips move slow like they're catching up to the word, your eyebrows raised up. Eyes wide. He wants to play it back.

"Please?" you ask when he fails to reply.

He thinks he has to be dreaming. Or drugged again. Definitely drugged.

"Sure," he hears himself say, though he can't remember thinking about it.

You don't smile like he expects. You make a sound, a happy inhale, your eyes light up but your lips stay straight.

Steve thinks you might be nervous.

And sure, he can be a jerk but he's not a total douchebag. He gives you what he hopes is a reassuring smile and gets out of his car, locking the doors to follow you to the ticket stand. Closer now, Steve can't work you out: half dreamy, half fidgeting.

Your boots thud up carpeted stairs into the auditorium, the lights already down, previews blaring.

There's two empty seats next to Eddie. In the dark you catch the hem of his jacket between your fingers and pull him behind you.

His heart skips.

Eddie, in what Steve thinks of as his most mature greeting to date, nods at him and then turns to you curiously. "You okay?" he asks seriously.

"I'm perfect, Eds. Did we miss any good previews?" you ask, sitting heavily beside your friend and stealing a big handful of popcorn out of his lap.

Eddie only chuckles. "Nothing you'd like."

You nod and then turn to Steve shyly. "Sorry we didn't get snacks," you whisper. You offer your hand to him, full of popcorn.

He shakes his head. You look embarrassed but not surprised, tipping your head back to polish off your handful.

"You went to Hawkins High?" you ask with your hand over your mouth.

"I did. You didn't?"

"I did," you correct gently, wiping your hand on your thigh. "I graduated two years ago. When Eddie should have."

That makes more sense, though Steve's sorry he doesn't remember you. He was a little obsessed with Nance at the time.

"Do you work?" he asks.

You smile like you're about tell him a big secret, edging forward. Your arms brushes his arm on the rest between chairs. "You can't tell anyone."

"On my honour," he says, eyes wide, terrified you're a mercenary or worse, a cold caller.

"I desk at the library," you say.

He blinks. You giggle and Eddie shushes you, already sounding defeated. Chastened, you drop your voice to a barely perceptible level.

"I know, I don't look the type."

"No," he says, too loud, receiving several disgruntled glares. "No, you- Well, maybe you don't. But I don't look like I worked at Scoops Ahoy all summer, so…"

You slap a ring-laden hand over your shiny pout and try to smother a laugh. Bracelets slide down your wrist. "You do! You do look like you worked there," you say joyfully.

He can't find it in him to be offended.

You're milder as you settle back into your seat. A preview passes. You clear your throat.

"I'm sorry," you say, sounding worried, "if that was cruel. I get mixed up. I know- I mean, I don't know, but the Starcourt thing. That must've been awful."

Your words stick together like taffy. He releases you as quickly as he can.

"Hey, don't be sorry," he says, scoffing lighty. He readjusted where he's sitting, crossing his arms over his chest. "Doesn't matter." It's not like you'd meant anything by it.

You look less peaky but still hesitant.

"Would you believe me if I told you the worst part of my job was the uniform?" he jokes, wanting to put you at ease again.

"Was it really so bad?" you murmur, your lips slowly curving up into a smile.

"There was a mandated hat."

You laugh. People shush you aggressively. Steve feels something close to magnetism at the sound, and wants to make you do it again.

"Where do you work now?" you whisper as the movie begins.

"Video store by the arcade."

"Family Video?" you ask. He nods, looking down at your hands in your lap, your fingers. Your legs are shaking, minute trembling. You twist one of your rings around your fingers and he wonders what's making you nervous.

"That's the one."

You bend in close, so close he thinks he can smell your shampoo. Dusky, rosewater. Sweet.

"Maybe I can come see you. You can recommend me something."

"Sure," he says, too loud. Somebody coughs, though the cough sounds suspiciously like dickwad.

You watch Day of the Dead, stealing popcorn all the while. You pop the lid off of Eddie's drink and take sneaky sips, and your friend flicks your upper arm when you get greedy. In response, your bashful, peeling laughter.

"Fine, I'll get my own drink. You want one?" you ask Steve, standing with your back bent, necklace dipping down in the space between you. He follows it, looks accidentally straight at your chest and then back up, guilty and blushing. "Steve?" you ask.

"I'll come with you," he says, desperate to escape the dark, the warmth.

Steve follows you down the red, trodden carpet and back into the main body of the theatre, an atrium with high glass windows and wooden beams. It smells old, like dust. The sky is dark now, night eating up every bit of natural light. White cat eyes beam from the movie theatre's floors to guide you to the snack station, a brighter, well stocked haven of greasy foods and cold drinks.

You stand in front of the popcorn machine. It paints your skin with a golden yellow shine, like the sun. You're very quiet as you open your clutch, pulling out hair pins and chapstick and a lone cotton pad before you find your purse, a battered leather pouch embossed with hearts. He tries not to fill the silence, digging for his wallet in his pocket. He gets a too big coke and you deliberate over slurpee flavours, eventually asking for a mix.

"It's so quiet out here," you murmur around your straw.

"Like Family Video on a Friday," he agrees.

"Isn't Friday, like, one of your busiest nights?"

"Yep."

A burst of surprised giggles. Steve hides his smile with a cough, 'cos he's cool.

You pull the straw from your cup and lick it clean, digging for a certain flavour though he's not sure which, still laughing to yourself. Steve takes the initiative and leads you back up the stairs and to your seat, catching your jacket in his hand before you can walk down the wrong row.

You smile gratefully, your lips stained blue and red.

You're sitting on the pavement outside of Family Video. Steve can see your back, your hair.

He wonders why you're here, if it's to see him, and then if you're okay, and feels bad for thinking in that order.

"Robin," he says loudly, reluctant to tear his eyes from you lest you disappear like a shoddy apparition.

"Steven."

"Not correct."

"What, idiot?" Robin asks, picking her head up from the book stretched open in her lap. She sits up and her back clicks loudly.

Steve sighs in disgust. "That's gross, you know? You'll get, like, arthritis."

"You think arthritis is gross? Not cool, Steven."

"No, I meant them as two separate things. Gross to hear you click, and that the clicking will give you arthritis," he explains, exasperated. He runs a hand through his hair.

"That's a myth."

A long pause where Steve watches your back moving, how you're leaning forward towards the sun bleached tarmac.

"What?" he asks suddenly, turning from you finally to stare in disbelief at his best friend.

Robin is more than prepared to fight her cause, the leaves of her book closed around her hand like she'd been waiting for him to ask. She probably had been.

"It's a myth. Clicking your bones doesn't give you arthritis. The clicking sound is fluid moving- Are you even listening to me?"

Steve has dropped his head into his hands. He spreads his fingers wide so Robin can see his eyes. "Robin, we have more important things at hand."

"Like what? Keith's laundry?"

"Like Y/N is sitting outside right now!" he shouts, and then cringes. You don't show any sign of having heard him. He continues in a strangled whisper, "She's been out there for like, five minutes!"

Robin kicks up off of her stool to stand at Steve's side, up on tiptoes to see over the vinyl on the windows. She's listened to his inane rambling and insecure, badly disguised yearning all week, but hasn't had a face to a name until now. She makes a sound of approval like she can understand why Steve has been so wound up about you.

"Why's she on the floor?"

"She does that."

"Oh," Robin says, chin jutting up. "Are you gonna go talk to her?"

He wants to. Dreadfully. Intensely wants to.

"Or I could go talk to her," Robin offers, wrists touching. She rubs them together. Steve ignores her mischievous, shit-eating grin.

"Sure, Robs, you talk to her. Stun her with your stellar people skills."

Robin's lips push, as close as she's ever come to pouting. "Cruel."

"Yet accurate."

"If you're so amazing, why don't you go talk to her, hot shot? Woo her! Chop-chop."

Steve steels his nerves because even if he is about to make a huge fool of himself he's slightly worried about your on-the-ground position. Not unusual for you, but still.

"Are you okay?" he asks as he emerges.

You turn to Steve like you're unsurprised that he's there and offer your headphones to him. "Put these on?"

"Are you okay?" he asks again, voice not dissimilar to when he's bossing around the kids.

You hold the headphones to your chest and dip your chin. "Steve, I'm fine. Please?" you ask, offering them to him.

He puts on the headphones, bent at the waist for the wire to reach your cassette player. He quickly discovers the source of your unhappiness – the tape sounds bloated. Distorted.

"The tapes messed up," he says.

You shake your head with patience, though he can tell from your expression this isn't the first time you've explained it. "It's not the tape, it's the player."

Steve's back gives a twinge. I'm an old man, he thinks in horror, standing up straight with your headphones back in his hands.

"You drop it?" he asks expectantly.

You only frown more, looking generally put out. "No, I took great care of her. Scout's honor."

Steve sighs and decides to take the leap, sitting down beside you on the sidewalk. There's a small dip where the parking lot starts and he stretches one leg out across it, hand on his knee, the other across his abdomen.

"Can't one of your nerd club fix it?" he asks.

"I'm not actually in Hellfire Club, you know."

He didn't. "You can't ask? Eddie must've learned something at school after this many years. By accident. Like… osmosis."

"Eddie's on his third try for a reason," you say, picking at a small ladder in your tights on the side of your calf. You're wearing socks, too, peeking up just over the edge of your thick bottomed boots.

"You know Dustin?" he asks after a patch of silence he would find awkward with anyone who wasn't you. You make it peaceful, in a way. "He could take a look. He went to science camp and built, like, the world's strongest radio."

He can't tell if you're listening. Your eyes are trained on the sidewalk, its crack, and the weeds growing between them. There's a wet snapping sound.

You hold a small yellow flower between your fingers.

"A creeping buttercup," you tell him. You push your palm flat in the space between you both and lean towards him. "Do you like butter?"

"Do I- Yeah, sure, I like butter. Who doesn't?"

You lick your lips. "Mind if I check?" you ask him.

"Is that a trick question?"

"Steve," you say, chiding. You tilt your head to your shoulder and the breeze kisses your hair, ruffling soft strands as you hold the flower under his chin intently. He feels frozen.

"You love butter," you say, nodding like what you just said makes sense.

"Are you sure you're okay? Didn't hit your head on the way here?"

"Here. Hold it under my chin," you tell him, offering him the flower. You twirl its stem, though you stop when he moves to take it.

Steve feels like an idiot as he holds it by your neck.

"Closer," you say softly, lifting your head.

Steve raises his eyebrows but keeps his skepticism to himself. To his surprise, when the flower is close enough to your skin, a small patch of yellow light appears, gauzy around the edges.

"What the fuck…"

You lower your chin, your faces closer than Steve had realised. You look straight into his eyes. "It's a reflection of the light. 'Cos it's clear out."

He feels out of his element no matter how captivating he finds you – he can't get to grips with it. His silence quickly deters you; you look away from his face and your lips pull into a pout as you bite your bottom lip. You bend at the waist and mess with your shoelaces.

"Did you wanna come inside?" he asks, trying to fix whatever it is he did. Girls are complicated.

You cheer up a bit.

"Do you have anything like Day of the Dead?"

He has no clue.

"Sure we do," he says confidently.

He stands up fast and offers his hand. You take it, your palm smooth and cool in his, admittedly warmer and slightly calloused. He hopes the ease with which he pulls you up is impressive, then feels stupid for thinking that. You squeeze his fingers before you let go and follow him into Family Video.

"So, what? You like him?" Eddie asks you from above, cross-legged on his bed. Denim jacket nowhere to be seen, he sits in a t-shirt with the sleeves hacked off, tattoos on clear display, stark against his pale skin.

"Don't be jealous, Eds," you say mildly.

He crawls to the edge of the bed to look down at you where you lie on his floor. His hair tickles your nose and you hold in a sneeze.

"Nice face," he says.

"I think he likes me."

"Why wouldn't he? You're cool."

You stare at your best friend's earnest face. "You know why."

"No, I don't."

You close your eyes, head dipping to your shoulder. You can't hide from him, though you've tried. Your arms cross over your tummy in a self-hug.

The ground is cold. His uncle's trailer is always cold, frigid in the winter. Minimal insulation and no A/C. You rub your face into the scratchy rug beneath you and sigh morosely, suddenly overcome with a pinching misery.

"There's nothing wrong with you," Eddie says seriously.

"I don't think I can do it." It hurts to say, though you know Eddie won't judge you.

"What? Have a boyfriend?"

You nod. The mattress creaks as he moves. You're expecting his touch, though his cold finger flicking you square in the forehead startles you anyway. Your eyes jump open. You flinch up into a sitting position and rub your head.

"Shithead."

"Stop doubting yourself."

"I get so messed up. I'm a bad friend, I wouldn't- I wouldn't be a good girlfriend," you mutter, bringing your knees to your chest. You hide in them.

"You don't get messed up," he says.

"I'm stupid."

"Y/N," he says, dragging your name out sternly. "Here, come sit with me. I won't flick you again, promise."

You rub your eyes, smudging your makeup and stand reluctantly to flop onto his bed, his rumpled sheets a lump under your back. Eddie pulls your necklace from where it has ridden up your neck and drops it down the valley of your chest absent-mindedly.

"You're not stupid," he says gently. "And you don't get 'messed up'. You're overthinking things."

"I'm not," you argue. "I'm an idiot, and I say the wrong things, and maybe he does like me but it won't last long."

You didn't have an easy time in school. Eddie knows this, lived it with you, and he's blamed it a thousand times for your low self-esteem. Ever understanding, he hums to himself skeptically and grabs your shoulder, giving you a good shake. He doesn't stop until you're laughing.

"I'm trying to shake some sense into you," he confides. "You're really fucking cool. And I'm not just saying that because you've been copying me since middle school, you're really cool."

"Cool," you repeat.

"Awesome."

You run the chain of your necklace through your fingers and feel the links skip over your skin, frowning.

"I thought for sure he'd ask me out by now."

"Maybe you should ask him."

"He probably thinks I'm, like, a creepy stalker."

"Creepy, maybe. Stalker? For what? Visiting him at work? That's friendly." You're overthinking things, he doesn't say.

"I left him my phone number," you admit, whispering. "But he hasn't called me."

"Babe, you're always fucking here. Did you check your machine?"

Obsessively. "Yeah."

Eddie throws himself down and kicks his legs over your tummy, to your annoyance. He ponders and you sulk, the rough sounds of Black Sabbath playing in the background.

"You've only met him a few times, right?"

Right. The movies, the video store, once when you'd bumped into him at the arcade and a couple of times when he'd checked out books at the library.

Eddie smiles as you tell him. "The library?"

"Yeah."

"He's visiting you at work?"

You think back to the last time you'd seen him, all of ten minutes across the desk with your clean library uniform and your neat hair. You finally cracked and asked him if he thought it suited you better.

"You look great," Steve had said, smiling lopsided, "but I miss your pretty gems. Oh, we have Friday the 13th back in. I kept it for you..."

"No, he's visiting the library," you say.

Eddie chuckles, his deep, teasing laugh. "And before you met, you saw him in there a lot, huh?"

"Well, no."

"So it's a coincidence that he found out where you work and he's suddenly an academic?"

"Shut up, Eddie," you plead, covering your face with your hands.

"Fine, whatever, we'll stop talking about it. Wanna paint my nails?"

"No."

You get up and paint his nails. You've done one hand pretty well when there's the sound of a car parking outside. Eddie turns down the stereo and you stare at each other curiously, listening for clues.

"Your uncle?"

"No. Probably for someone else."

Instantly disproved, there's a knock at the door, breaking up the silence. Eddie sighs dramatically and climbs over your legs to answer, his footsteps clumsy. "Yeah, coming," he calls. You stand and peer around the doorway, waiting to see who it is.

Eddie opens the door. "Harrington," he says, surprised, vaguely disgusted. "The munchkins aren't here."

"No, I know. I'm looking for Y/N."

You feel a stab of excitement right to your heart and scramble for Eddie's mirror, looking over your face and outfit with something close to terror looming – you're in an old band t-shirt covered in hair-dye from Eddie's red and pink phase and a skirt that's too short. You pull it down to make sure everything is properly covered.

"Yeah, she's here," Eddie says, though the door creaks as he closes it slightly, his voice a fraction from intimidating as he asks, "Who's asking?"

"Me?" Steve asks.

Your socks slide over linoleum in your rush to stop Eddie from being a total dick, edging him out of the way with your hip. He doesn't budge. You shove him with a huff and smile at Steve, trying to calm your pounding heart.

"Steve, hi."

"Hey," he looks over your shoulder. You turn, see Eddie standing there looking unimpressed. He waves. You glare at him fiercely and step over the threshold, shutting the door behind you.

You don't second guess as you take Steve's wrist into your hand, pulling him down the steps and into the short grass to make sure Eddie can't eavesdrop. It's damp under your socks.

Steve looks hot. You're a simple girl, you won't deny that. His hair looks more windblown than usual, lazy strands falling into his face. His eyes are serious, light brown and edged in straight lashes you would count if he let you, brows slightly lifted. You realise he's taking you in as you do the same and feel self conscious, shifting from foot to foot.

"Sorry, I look weird. I didn't-" you bite your tongue. I didn't know you were coming, you'd almost said, but of course you didn't, and telling him you would've dressed up if he was coming might scare him off.

Any anxiety you'd had is soothed as he takes your hand, still loosely clasped around his wrist, and squeezes the centre of your palm with his thumb.

"Are you kidding?" he asks, hand moving down, thumb rubbing over your pulse point. "You look beautiful. Don't worry about it."

His nonchalance trips you up. You can feel your heart in your mouth, like a hummingbird on your tongue.

"What did… what did you wanna ask me?" you stammer.

Steve drops your hand. "I tried calling, but I figured you'd be here. Uh, so-" he laughs, pulling a hand through his hair before dipping into the pocket of his jacket. You watch his arms then his hands.

"I got these," he says, pulling two tickets from his pocket. White and a third red, he offers them to you. You take them, enough adrenaline running through you that your hands are shaking and you struggle to read what they say.

Steve jumps in. "I know you really liked Day of the Dead. They're doing a showing in Indianapolis, one of those fancy theatre's where everyone dresses up as zombies, and like, they throw fake guts on you. Or something."

"Oh," you murmur. Awesome, you think. Oh my god. "That's sick."

"Right?"

"And you…"

"I want you to go with me. I want to take you," he says firmly. "On a date."

"A date."

"It's Friday. I'll pick you up, we'll drive there in the morning. Hang around, we can go wherever you want for dinner, see the sights."

"This is before or after we dress up like zombies?" you ask, hiding a huge smile.

Steve blushes, let it be written, his cheeks red. He sounds frustrated as he says, "Right, not my best idea. Before? We can get ready in the car," his voice fades before he finishes. "That's not a good idea."

He starts on a self deprecating waffle that you can't allow. You press the tickets to your chest, way too happy. "This is pretty cool."

"You think so?" he asks quickly, strung out.

"Yeah," you say fondly.

"Oh."

You almost step on his toes as you kiss his hot cheek. He smells nice. You set back on your heels and linger, trying to work out what his cologne smells like. Something fresh, not quite lemony.

You get a bit dizzy and carried away, stroking the curve of his arm with the back of your hand. Steve makes a sound like a hiccup and you remember yourself, stepping away bashfully, afraid to meet his eyes.

"So," Steve says, sounding relieved. Excited. "You'll go?"

"Yeah. It sounds awesome."

"It's a date," he says.

You tell him your address and he promises to call you to smooth out all the details but he really has to go to work. You climb back up the stairs and close the door almost all the way, watching as Steve gets in his car through the crack. He sits motionless for a bit before he fist pumps the air, says, "Yes! Ugh, yes. Still got it. Still got it, Hawkins."

You close the door.

"Ew, you look happy. Harrington cop a feel?" Eddie says.

"Something like that."

You're running down a dark alleyway with Steve's hand in yours. He's almost dragging you. Dude runs fast.

"I ran track!" he tells you helpfully.

You can't help the breathless laughing as you go, nervous and humming with energy. You'd both been having a great time at dinner and lost track of time, and now it's twenty minutes until doors open for Day of the Dead and neither of you look particularly lifeless.

You almost slam into the back door of his BMW, scrambling inside. Steve is quick behind you, upending the bag with your change of clothes onto the back seat. Your makeup and fake blood tumble out after it. He reaches up to turn on the overhead light.

"Fuck," Steve says, face carved in shadow. "Fuck. We don't have time."

"Sure we do," you say, tugging your shirt off quickly. Steve looks pointedly away once he notices your predicament. You chuckle. "Steve, just get changed. I don't care if you look."

"I'm a gentleman," he insists, rushing, the two of you folding and bumping into each other in a hurry to get dressed into your old clothes.

You catch flashes of his bare chest as he buttons down then buttons up, his legs, his thighs. You feel heat lick every stretch of skin you have at the sight. Oh, he's hairy, you think, and then have to slam your eyes shut to stop from thinking sick (completely normal, dirty) thoughts.

You pull your tights off of your ankles, blush at the idea of being sequestered in a car with him in your underwear, and leap to replace them with a pair of tight, pinstriped trousers, shrugging into them with great difficulty. Your chest is rising and falling rapidly as you pull on your blouse, white for the best fake blood effect, buttoning up just enough to hide your bra.

Make up next. You want to look scary and, importantly, believable. You fish for the make up you'd brought and have managed to suitably brush up your dark eyes with purples to look bruised and sickly by the time Steve has finished redressing. He tightens the tie around his neck.

"You next," you say.

Steve hesitates. "I've never done any makeup before."

You don't blink. "That's okay. I'll do it for you, if you want me to."

Steve climbs closer over your discarded clothes, close enough to hear his breathing, still fast. You brush the hair out of his eyes and they find yours, the two of you sharing a private smile, though there's no one else around.

"Will you ruin my good looks?"

"You'll be a very handsome zombie," you promise.

You reach for his face.

"You need to get closer," you tell him, fingers hooked under his ear. You tilt his head to the light.

"I can't," he says.

You steel your nerves and grab onto his shoulder gently, anchoring yourself as you climb up into his lap. If he's surprised he doesn't show it, his big hands coming up to your waist. You can feel the heat of each finger clearly on your skin where he grips you and the heat of his thighs like a furnace underneath yours. You try not to brush against him, standing up on your knees.

You use your fingers, rubbing them gently in the powder shadows and then over his silky skin. Big stripes of purple, a wash of yellow around his pretty eyes. He closes them as you dab a dark red under his eyelashes. You grow closer still, your breath fanning over his face. His hand skips respectably over your back and down to your thigh, holding you up. It's helpful. It's torture. You try not to breathe too loudly.

"You have really soft skin," you say, using your thumb to spread dark contour under his cheekbone, one side of his face gaunt.

You cover your work with your hand as his eyes open.

"Yeah?" he asks.

This closeness. Suddenly, abruptly, the feelings you're trying to push down rear their heads, and the heat becomes hard to ignore.

"Yeah," you murmur, thumb under his eye. He looks ridiculous. You know you look the same.

"Am I done?" he asks. His hand squeezes your thigh as he adjusts his hold.

"Not quite," you say.

You finish his makeup in silence. Time slows. You forget that you're late, content to feel his features under your hands, to learn the planes and dips of his face for the first time like this. You tuck his hair behind his ears carefully, smoothing back his hairline.

He's looking up at you. You sit down in his lap and he moves his hands to behind your back, his head following you down intently. He looks serious.

You draw your hand from his face and drop it onto his thigh, your rings brushing over starchy slacks.

It's his turn to touch you. Steve's hand comes to your face, his broad palm over the entirety of your cheek. You wait for something though you're not sure what, frozen with apprehension, simply watching him take you in.

"Do I look scary?" you ask, eyes on his lips.

They part before he answers, like he knows what he's going to say before he says it. "Horrifying," he murmurs wryly, hand gently pulling your face towards his.

You lift your chin to meet his lips, the muscles of his forearms shifting against your chest as he cups your face in both hands, guiding you to him. Your lips touch, tentative at first, one small kiss that feels more than warm, a homely, perfect fit. He pulls back and you don't, tapping the tip of his nose with yours until he opens his mouth.

You sneak in as his hand runs down your neck, your arm, slow and sleek. He makes a small sound as he takes the lead, opening you up, and it tickles your lips with its vibrations. He sounds content. You're feeling similarly happy, grabbing at his hand where it holds your face, squeezing his wrist to hold it in place as you push yourself into his arms. He takes you eagerly, pulling you chest to chest.

His head bumps the window. You pull apart, panting and happy and giggling, your lips damp and tingling. Steve rubs the back of his head, looking at you with an expression you can't describe.

"What?" you ask, wiping at his bottom lip with your thumb where your lipstick has stained him.

"How come you're so pretty, even like this?"

"Like this, a zombie?" Steve nods slowly. "Let me know when you find out, Harrington."

He pulls you back in with a smirk that sets your tummy aflame. "You think I'm pretty?" he asks, lips a millimetre from yours.

"Super pretty," you say, and kiss him. He loves on your top lip like you've got all the time in the world, kisses warm and slick. "Almost as pretty as me," you say between them.

He slows your kisses, gives you one last peck over your burning mouth. "No one's as pretty as you," he says agreeably.

You beam. Steve beams back though it quickly fades as he brings his arm up to check his watch.

"We're so late," he says, manhandling you off of his lap with an apologetic grimace. "C'mon, we still gotta cover you in blood."

You both get out and Steve sprays you down with fake blood. You laugh as he does, the cold liquid tickling your skin as it trickles down your face and your chest and your tummy.

Steve takes his own bloodying with far less laughter though he smiles at your glee. He's so handsome you can't help it, stepping into his space for another kiss. There's blood on your lips, evidently, as it transfers to his.

"We need to go," you say, like it's his fault.

"Wait. I have something for you."

Steve opens the driver's side and takes a small object from under the seat. He hands it to you.

"I called in a favour. Dustin and Lucas fixed it up, I checked, like, ten tapes. It works."

In your hands the bane of your existence, your faulty Walkman. There's a fake blood mark in the shape of his thumbprint on the side and you decide you're going to leave it there forever, looking to him with a completely uncool amount of affection.

"Steve," you say happily, a heat behind your eyes.

"I got sick of seeing you pouting, that's all," he says hotly, crossing his arm over his chest. "Now you can stop sulking."

You throw your hands around his neck to hug him tightly, the Walkman pressed to his neck. He oomphs, hands flying to your sides. Your face against his shoulder, you curl a strand of his brown hair around one of your fingers. "Thank you." You dot a corn syrup kiss against his throat. "You're the coolest," you say as you pull away.

His hands move from around your back to your shoulders, holding you at arms length. "People have said that about me."

"I bet."

𓆩❤︎𓆪

thanks for reading! | my masterlist

#steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x reader fluff #steve harrington x reader blurb #steve harrington x reader fanfic #steve harrington fanfic #stranger things fic #stranger things x reader #stranger things 4 #stranger things #steve harrington one shot #eddie munson x reader platonic

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jamdoughnutmagician · 3 months

Text

So, now everyone knows.

Steve Harrington x Fem!Reader Word Count:4,302 (oops!) Summary:As it turns out you're not as slick as you think you are when it comes to sneaking around in secret with your boyfriend. Warnings:Smut, 18+, Humour, Fluff.

This was born of a silly NYE drabble that I wrote, and it kind of spiralled into a fic inspired by everyone finding out about Chandler and Monica's relationship in Friends.

Steve Harrington Masterlist // Masterlist

*also not proof-read, so if you saw mistakes no you didn't :)

Steve and you were the only ones left, tidying up after yet another big party at the Harrington residence. Steve always insisted on having the parties at his parents house, seeing as his parents were barely there enough to care whoever it was that he invited over. He was never this lucky with the small apartment he shared with Eddie, so he often took advantage of the palatial space that his parent’s huge house afforded him.

You were sitting down with him on his couch, having tidied up, just chatting about anything and everything that came to mind.

You and Steve had been friends for absolutely ages. You had met him when you were in the second grade, after you had moved with your family to Hawkins. He was the kind boy who befriended you in the playground, offering you a share of his animal crackers and ever since then the two of you have been inseparable.

“I’m probably going to die an old woman surrounded by cats, aren’t I?” you huff as you swig a few drops of beer from your bottle.

Steve knew all about your numerous failed dates, of course he did. He was always the one to help put you back together when you inevitably came home alone with a frown and a small shake of your head. The dark smudge of mascara gathering in your lashes from the beginnings of disappointed tears.

“Look, if these guys can't see how amazing you are, then honestly, it's their loss.” Steve says, giving your shoulder a gentle nudge. “You're so beautiful, and any guy would be lucky to date you.” He tells you.

You leaned your head on his shoulder with a soft sigh.

“You're my best friend, Steve. You have to say that.”

“I’m not just saying that, it’s true, okay? I mean you’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.” he turns to you, without any hint of irony or sarcasm in his voice at all.

You lean close to him and wrap your arms over his shoulders, your fingers ruffling into his hair, as you smash your lips against his. He matches your kiss with fiery passion of his own, his tongue slipping past your lips as he explores into your mouth.

You both pull away from each other slightly breathless and flushed.

“Well I’ve never done that with you before.” Steve chuckles slightly, still feeling the tingling buzz of your lips on his.

“Neither have I, but I liked it.” you admit shyly.

“Yeah, I liked it too. I liked it a lot, actually.” Steve blushes before leaning in close to kiss you again.

After that kiss everything changed. You and Steve had secretly started dating one another for a few weeks now. Neither of you wanted to tell any of your friends quite yet, for fear of it ruining a relationship that was running pretty smoothly.

The mind-blowing sex was just an added bonus.

“Steve…” you moaned, letting a quiet whimper slip past your lips.

“Shh Honey, gotta be quiet for me okay?” Steve worried as he kissed your lips to silence your cries of pleasure. The fact of Eddie being in the bedroom next door did nothing to deter the wandering hands of your boyfriend. “Don’t wanna wake up Eddie.”

You huffed out quiet breaths as Steve slowly rolled his hips up into you, his messy hair falling in front of his eyes as he leaned down to kiss you.

“You feel so good Honey…” Steve murmured against your lips as his hip movements picked up, chasing both his and your highs. With Steve’s thumb gently rubbing precise circles on your clit and his cock filling you so deeply it didn’t take long before you were squeezing around him, milking him of his release as you came.

Steve slowly pulls himself out of you, watching as his cum spills out from your glistening cunt. He quickly grabs his old t-shirt from the floor, before using it to clean you up and then throwing it into the washing basket in the corner of the room.

Pulling you close to his body, he spoons you in his warmth, covering the pair of you in his duvet before softly kissing his lips against your shoulder.

“G'nite, Honey.”

“Night Stevie.”

You carefully prise Steve’s arm from around your waist and pull yourself out of bed before quietly reaching for your underwear and borrowing one of Steve's clean t-shirts from his drawers.

The blinking red numbers from his digital clock beam back at you in the dark room. 03:55am.

You carefully slip out of the bedroom without rousing Steve from his sleep, all with the intention to head back to your shared apartment with Robin across the hall. All you would have to do was quietly slip back into your room and nobody would be any the wiser.

Closing the bedroom door on your way out you are suddenly shocked to see Eddie sitting on the couch, a bowl of cereal in hands and spoon dangling from his open mouth.

“What are you doing here?” you accuse Eddie.

“I got hungry and I made myself cereal. Plus I live here.” he smirks. “I think a better question is what are you doing here? And why are you wearing Steve’s shirt?”

You stand there stuttering for a moment, unsure of what to say.

“OH MY GOD YOU TWO ARE SLEEPING TOGETHER?” Eddie screams as slowly begins to piece together what was going on.

“Will you keep your voice down, Munson.” you chastise in a shouted whisper, as you jab a finger in his direction.

“Hey, what’s going on out here? What’s all the shouting about?” Steve mumbles sleepily as he yawns and rakes a hand through his ruffled hair, but as he takes in your appearance, your body draped in his shirt and Eddie’s accusatory gaze, he rushes by your side immediately.

“Oh nothing. Except for the fact that you two have apparently been sleeping together for god knows how long.” Eddie states, his voice rising in tone with shock.

“We didn’t want to say anything, because we didn’t want to make a big deal about it.” Steve explains, with a flush rising to his freckled cheeks at having been caught out by his roomate.

“But it is a big deal.” Eddie huffs. “How long has this little thing been going on for anyway?”

“Since Steve’s party.” you reply.

“But Steve’s party was like 3 months ago?” Eddie stutters.

“You can’t tell anyone about this Eddie, please, I’m begging you.” you plead, giving him your best puppy-dog eyes

“Oh alright fine. I’ll keep your little secret.” Eddie huffs with a resigned sigh.

“Thank you.” Both you and Steve say in unison, a relief washing over both of you.

That was fine. It was only Eddie who knew about your’s and Steve’s relationship. And he wasn’t going to tell anyone. Everything was going to be just fine.

Robin slouched as she made her way through the apartment doors with a huff. Working at the library and stacking and organising books on the shelf took way more energy than she cared to admit to.

She trudged her feet towards the phone on the coffee table, peeling off the little sticky post-it note tacked on top of it. It’s in your handwriting.

Meeting up with an old friend. Don’t wait up for me, won’t be back until much later. X

Huh, weird? You never mentioned anything about meeting up with an old friend? Perhaps this was something that came up last minute, you were always the more spontaneous one out of the two of you.

Robin shrugs it off, not thinking much of it as she picks up the phone to check her answering phone messages.

“Hey, so I'll be over at your place later, I'll just tell Robin I'm meeting an old friend.” Robin’s eyebrows knit together, upon hearing your voice on the answering machine.

“An old friend huh? I don’t think you can really call me an old friend when you’ve had your mouth on my dic-” Robin’s eyes widened in shock upon hearing Steve’s voice on the other end of the conversation. She yelps as she quickly slams the phone back down before she could hear how that message was going to end.

You and Steve were hooking up? How long had that been going on for?

You sat with Robin and Eddie gathered on your apartment's couch, catching up after work.

“Well it’s been nice chatting, but I’ve got to go. I promised an old friend I would meet up with them for drinks.” you smiled to your friends as you excused yourself and made your way out of the apartment.

Eddie just looks at you with a sly smirk before taking a sip of his beer. Robin eyed Eddie suspiciously, and although he never said anything, just from one look at him Robin could tell that he knew more than he was letting on.

“Weird how all of a sudden she’s meeting up with this “old friend”, don’t you think.” Robin says, raising the question.

“Is it?” Eddie replies, playing dumb.

“Say, Eddie, you wouldn’t mind going over to Steve’s bedroom and getting that book I lent him last week?” Robin asks, her eyebrows raising slightly as she directs her question to him.

“Uh..Do you need it now? Like right now?” Eddie replies cautiously, knowing full well that if he goes over to his apartment now that he would likely catch you and Steve in a very compromising position, and Eddie didn’t need that kind of visual trauma inflicted upon his eyes.

Robin once again eyes her friend’s nervous nature as he shifts uncomfortably on the couch, fidgeting under her glare, his fingers playing with his clunky metal rings as a distraction.

“Do you know something?” Eddie pipes up.

“Do you know something?” Robin parrots back his question.

“I might know something.” Eddie replies shortly.

“I might know something too.” Robin says cryptically.

“What’s the thing that you know?” Eddie presses.

“Oh no, I can’t tell you the thing that I know, until you tell me the thing that you know.” Robin answers with a shake of her head.

“Well I can’t tell you what I know.”

“..And I can’t tell you what I know.” Robin responds, still playing her cards close to her chest.

Eddie fixes her with a glare of his own. A tense silence falling between the two.

“You don’t know anything.” Eddie rolled his eyes with a scoffing laugh.

“Alright, fine.” Robin huffs, standing up from the couch. “How about I go over to Steve’s apartment and I will see the thing that I think I know is actually the thing that I know.”

Eddie’s eyes widen in shock, as he jumps up in realisation that Robin was also in on the secret.

“YOU KNOW ABOUT STEVE AND Y?N?!” Eddie splutters out, the weight of having to keep their secret to himself finally being unburdened.

“Yeah I know! And you know too!” Robin laughs.

“Oh my god, Robin I’ve been dying to talk to someone about this.”

“So what is it then? Are they just having sex or are they, like, dating and stuff? Like, is this serious?” Robin barrages Eddie with an abundance of questions.

Eddie shakes his head and shrugs his shoulders.

“I dunno.” Eddie mumbles.

“Does Nancy know about them? Getting with a friend’s ex-boyfriend, that could be super messy.” Robin keeps running with question after question, letting them filter from her lips as quickly as they enter her brain.

“I dunno about that either.” Eddie admits.

“Yeah you really don’t know anything, do you?” Robin pokes.

“What I do know is this. You remember that time where Steve wore that big scarf a few weeks back? Refused to take it off despite it being the middle of July?” Eddie began.

Robin nodded for him to continue.

“Yeah, his neck was covered in hickeys.”

“I fucking knew it!” Robin cheers with a laugh.

Robin was helping Chrissy to settle into her new apartment. She had just moved into the apartment block across the street from your’s and Robin’s place, so it made it very convenient to gather together for an all girl’s movie night.

“Thanks so much for helping me move in Rob, I don’t know how I could have coped with all these boxes by myself.”

“Don’t mention it, it’s no problem!” Robin smiled, setting down the last box in the living room.

Chrissy wandered over to the heavy curtains in the room, flinging them open to let the light flood into the apartment from the window.

“Oh look it’s Steve and y/n!” she smiled as she spotted the pair of you chatting to one another in the apartment directly opposite hers. “Hey! Guys!” she waves, trying to get your attention.

Before she could turn away she saw you quickly whipping Steve’s shirt over his head, and Steve kissing his lips urgently against your as he held you up, with your legs wrapping around his hips. He presses you against the window as his kisses become more intense and his hands wander to squeeze the soft curve of your hips.

“OH MY GOD! MY EYES! MY EYES!” Chrissy squawked out dramatically. “THEY’RE DOING IT!”

“I know! I know!” Robin tells her, doing her best to calm her down.

“You know?!” Chrissy bubbles out her eyes unblinking as she tries to process what she had just seen.

“Yes. I know and Eddie knows, but Nancy doesn’t know so you can’t say anything about this to her, okay?”

Chrissy nods, with a nerve-steadying breath.

“This is huge, I can’t believe it.”

“I know, trust me. I now know more about my best friend and my roommate's apparently active sex life than I ever have, and ever wanted to know, before.” Robin huffs, before closing the curtains to hide the sight of Steve railing you up against the window.

“So all the time she was on the phone with her ‘old friend’?!” Chrissy asks

“Uh-huh, phone sex.” Robin laughed.

“I can’t believe you told Chrissy about them! I kept their secret, why couldn’t you?” Eddie pokes as he chimes into the conversation.

“I didn’t tell her. She found out on her own.” Robin says defensively.

“Yeah I saw them doing it through the window.” Chrissy explains. “Well I actually saw them doing it up against the window.”

“Yeah, I could’ve gone the rest of my life without seeing Steve’s bare ass if I'm being brutally honest.” Robin adds.

“Okay, so now three of us know about them, we could just tell them and then all the lying and secrets would be over!” Eddie cheers hopefully, wishing to be done with keeping everyone’s secrets.

Robin arches her eyebrow at Eddie, a devious plan forming in her mind.

“Yeah, but they don’t know that neither me nor Chrissy know about them, so I’m thinking that we could have a little fun of our own.” Robin begins.

“No, no, no, do you know what would be even better? Telling them.” Eddie says firmly.

“Hm, no, I wanna do Robin’s thing.” Chrissy says, shaking off Eddie’s disapproval.

“Okay, but just so everyone’s clear, I don’t want any part of this, you hear me.” Eddie huffs before getting up to leave.

As Eddie walks out the door Steve wanders in.

“Hey everyone! How’s things?”

Eddie gives a small snort of ‘hmmf’ before making his way out.

“What’s his problem?” Steve mutters as he sits down next to Chrissy.

Chrissy gives Robin a sly wink, letting her know that the plan was indeed in action.

“Oh I don’t know, Stevie. I just think he’s been a little stressed recently.” Chrissy’s voice barely more than a sickly-sweet breathy whisper as she leans up next to Steve.

“Oh really?”

“Yeah I know we all get stressed, and sometimes all you need to do is just to release all that pent up energy.” her voice becomes ever more sultry as she speaks, and her hand grazes up the length of his arm, giving his bicep a cheeky squeeze. “Ooh, so strong.” she teases.

“Um well yeah, okay.. So I should probably get going, it’s getting pretty late.” Steve excuses himself quickly, suddenly feeling very unsure and embarrassed.

The girls wait until he’s out of the apartment before bursting into laughter.

“Oh my god that was amazing! He looked like a deer in the headlights!” Robin cackled, wiping a tear from her eye.

The plan to get Steve and you to admit to your relationship was slowly falling into place.

You sat astride Steve’s naked torso, peppering kisses all over his neck, stopping only briefly to nip your teeth at his earlobe, before your lips found his, capturing them in a sweet kiss.

His large hands splayed comfortably, holding their space on either side of your hips.

You continued placing soft kisses on every little freckle you could find, although Steve’s expression didn’t read one of pleasure, in fact he seemed kind of out of things, almost like he was deep in thought.

“Okay, either you’re not enjoying this, or there’s something on your mind.” you voice as you pull away from his lips.

“I am enjoying this, I promise.” he silences your worry with a simple kiss. “I was just thinking, that's all.”

You swing your legs to get off Steve's body before settling beside him in the bed.

“What’s going on Steve?”

“Earlier I was hanging out with Robin and Chrissy and something weird happened.”

“Weird how?”

“I think Chrissy was flirting with me?” He explains, his brows knitting together confusedly

“There’s no way.”

“Thanks for the vote of confidence, Honey.”

“No, I don’t mean it like that.” you playfully slap his arm. “Chrissy isn’t into you. She was only telling me the other day about how much she’s into this new guy she’s been dating.” You say, in your attempt to reassure Steve.

“Really, because she squeezed my bicep and she called me ‘Stevie’. Nobody apart from you calls me that.” He goes on to explain.

“Oh my god she knows about us!” you gasp. “She knows and now she’s trying to weird us out.” you say, beginning to piece together the information that Steve had just told you.

“But how could she know? There’s only one other person who knows about-'' Steve started, but the answer to his question hit before he could even finish asking it. “EDDIE!!”

The pair of you stomp your way over to Eddie’s room, before Steve knocks a heavy fist against his door.

“Open up Munson, I know you’re in there.” Steve shouts.

“Jeez, what’s got your panties in a bunch, Harrington?” Eddie asked as he swung the door open to come face to face with both Steve and you looking less than pleased.

“Eddie, who else knows about me and Steve?” You ask pointedly.

“Just me.” Eddie replies confidently.

You glare at him with a stare that has him cracking under the pressure.

“..and Chrissy…and Robin…” Eddie mutters and he tries his best to hide behind his hair.

“Eddie!” you slap his shoulder, scolding him almost as if he was a naughty school-boy.

“Hey! In my defence, I didn’t exactly tell them, they found out on their own.” Eddie owns up. “Poor Chrissy saw you doing it through the window. You should really shut your curtains, you filthy animals.”

You look at Steve for a moment to see a rosy flush creeping up from his neck and blooming across his cheeks.

“I would have told you, but the girls made me promise not to say anything.” Eddie pipes up once more. “But, hey! Now everyone knows so we can all talk about it and things can go back to the way they were before. No more secrets and lies, right?” Eddie looks between you and Steve with a hopeful look.

“No.” you said simply.

“No?” Steve turns to you, his eyebrows drawing together in confusion.

“What do you mean ‘no’?” Eddie worries.

“Those girls think they’re so clever messing with us.” You smirk. “But they don’t know that we know, that they know.” you explain to the boys, although their puzzled expressions led you to believe that they weren’t following you.

“Gather in boys, I’ve got a plan.”

It was a few days later when your plan was put into action. You let things rest for a while so as not to arouse suspicion.

The plan was to invite Chrissy over to Steve’s apartment, get him to flirt with her in order to throw her off the scent of you and Steve being together.

“Steve wants me to meet him in his apartment. Said that he’d been wanting to get me alone for quite some time.” Chrissy said as she sat up from her space on the couch next to Robin.

“Huh? Steve’s way into Y/n but then he wants to meet up with you? Alone? No way. Something’s up. Oh my god! They’re onto us.” Robin works out.

“What?” Chrissy bubbles with a shake of her head.

“Look, just go over there, flirt with Steve, tease him, kiss him if you have to! He’ll get all confused and uncomfortable and then he’ll finally have to admit to sleeping with y/n!”

“I don’t know about this Robin, what if there’s more to their relationship than just sex?”

“No way, if I know Steve like I think I do, then he’s just being a typical horny boy. It’s just sex with him. He’s not one for a serious relationship.”

You were hiding behind the door of Steve’s bedroom after coaching him through your plan, and encouraging him to flirt with Chrissy to throw her and Robin off the scent of you two being together.

Kissing his lips, and giving him a confident pat on his broad shoulders before pushing him out to go open the door.

“Go get ‘em, tiger.”

Chrissy breathed a nerve-steadying breath before she knocked against Steve’s apartment door, waiting before it swung open to reveal the man in question.

“Hi.” Steve said seductively, running a hand through his ruffled hair. “Come on in.”

Chrissy smiled as she made her way under Steve’s arm and into the apartment.

“So, do you want anything to drink?” Steve asked, keeping his composure as best he could in the unusual situation he found himself in.

“No thank you, Stevie. I think we both know why we’re here..” Chrissy said, her voice so sweetly seductive.

“I suppose there’s really no point in pretending anymore, is there?”

“I suppose not.” Chrissy said, stepping closer to Steve, placing a delicate hand on his face. Desperately trying to ignore the cringing feeling that was blooming in her chest. This was so wrong.

“So…” Steve dragged out as an awkward silence fell between the two.

“I’m going to kiss you now.” Chrissy said in her best sultry voice.

“Okay then.”

The pair slowly leaned in close to one another, neither one really wanting to kiss the other.

Steve got a hair’s breadth away from Chrissy lips before pulling away.

“Alright, fine! You win! I can’t do this! I’m not going to kiss you!” Steve screams defeatedly. “I can’t kiss you”

Chrissy pulled away from Steve excitedly with a beaming bright smile.

“Aha! And why not?”

“Because I’m in love with y/n” Steve shouted.

Chrissy gasped in surprise and in that moment you came out of hiding behind Steve’s bedroom door. Robin and Eddie pushed through the apartment door, with matching shocked expressions on their faces.

“It’s true, I love you so much, Honey.” Steve smiled as he pulled you close to him.

“I love you too, Stevie” you returned his smile, rising up on your toes to sweetly press your lips against his.

All your friends watched on with warm smiles, at Steve’s declaration of love for you.

“Aww! I didn’t know you loved one another.” Robin smiled, happy that her two friends had found love in each other. “I thought you were just having sex.”

She wasn’t far off the mark. There was a lot of sex, but being with Steve was way more than that. He quickly became someone whose arms you felt safe in, who loved you for every little thing that you were. In return, the love you felt for Steve went deeper than platonic friendship and you just couldn’t ignore your feelings anymore.

“We thought it would only be right that you heard this from me.” You said, reaching out to take Nancy’s hand in yours.

You had talked to Steve about how you wanted to tell Nancy about your relationship with Steve.

“Steve and I are dating, and I love him very much, and I hope you understand that I had no intentions of hurting you or doing this to upset you or make you mad.” you babble nervously, frightened that telling her about your relationship would ruin your friendship with her.

“Oh no! Sweetheart! No! I’m so happy for you!” Nancy beams, bringing you into a warm and friendly hug. “I’m so glad you’ve finally found the right one!”

You smile as you quietly huff a sigh of relief.

“Does he treat you right? Does he make you smile? Does he make you happy?” Nancy asked.

“He does.” you nod. “He does indeed.”

“Then how could I be mad at something that makes my best friend so happy?” she shakes her head at the thought of you being nervous to tell her.

“Thanks Nance, that’s so sweet of you.”

That couldn’t have gone any better.

So now all your friends knew about your relationship with Steve, you could stop hiding and tip-toeing around, and love him the way you wanted. Out loud and on purpose.

Tagging: @sunnythevampireslayer @penguinsandpotterheads @xxhellfirebunnyxx @reidsbtch @seatnights @mrsjellymunson @keeksandgigz

#Steve Harrington x Reader #Steve Harrington x Reader smut #Steve Harrington x Reader fluff #Steve Harrington x Reader fanfic #Steve Harrington smut #Steve Harrington fanfic

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ladymercury8 · 2 years

Text

A Vintage Love | Steve Harrington x Henderson!Reader

Summary: Steve Harrington used to be your best-friend. Then he broke your heart. Then he became your kid brother's babysitter? And now you're chasing giant cat-eating lizards around Hawkins together. [3.5k]

Warnings: S2 SPOILERS! Enemies-ish to lovers. Cursing. Way too many Star Wars references.

Credits to 10 Things I Hate About You for one minor spiel.

❃❃❃❃❃

“Y/N!!!” Dustin yelled, fist repeatedly slamming on your bedroom door, the hinges painfully squeaking for mercy.

You sighed, pushing your headphones off and slinging them around your neck. Subtly slamming your hand against your desk before getting up, you flung the door open with a harsh, “What, doofus?! You’ll break my door down, again!”

Yet your expression and confidence faltered when you saw Steve Harrington next to him. Your childhood best friend (until he became a popular dick), your longtime crush, and your baby brother’s… babysitter?

He was wearing a wrinkled gray jacket over a navy shirt, a pair of tight light-blue jeans hugging his muscular legs – because, holy shit, he was a man, not the scraggly teenager you used to tackle.

And Steve’s heart strings tugged at seeing you after so long. The same, beautiful face. The same eyes. The same nerdy fashion style from before: an Indiana Jones shirt underneath a light vest.

❃❃❃❃❃

You and Steve had grown up together. ‘Glued by the hip’, one could say. Every waking moment was spent in the other’s presence. Walking to school. Sitting next to each other in class. Going to the movies. Lazing at his pool. Rollerblading.

It was a special bond. An affectionate one, filled with hand holding and sun-kissed cheeks; playful shoving and name-calling.

Until one fated day: the start of high school.

With teenage hormones raging, testosterone flooding every ounce of his body, reaching every receptive gland, Steve Harrington wanted recognition.

He wanted, for once in his life, to be noticed – if not by his parents, why not his generation. He wanted a name for himself, a title.

You, on the other hand, couldn’t care less about all that. You were content with what you had, eager to join the reputed Hellfire Club, disregarding whatever labels would be stuck on to you.

And Steve was content, too. He adored you.

But he wanted more. And life bears sacrifices.

He made it perfectly clear on that first day of school, during lunch. You walked up to him, a tray in your hands and a grin on your dimpled face, only to be sneered at by Tommy and Carol.

The most painful expression beset your features as you retreated: pure heartbreak. He saw the way your hands shook when you dropped your tray on an empty table, the liquid pooling in your eyes as you bolted off.

Steve’s chest physically ached. He felt nauseous, overwhelmed. Like his body was fighting against him, trying to stop him from making a big mistake.

He ran after you. But when he heard your cries echoing from the girl’s bathroom, he felt a stake being driven through his heart. A stake made of your devastation. Piercing his taut flesh, cutting every artery and vein, rupturing the sack of cardiac muscle, dislodging itself through his back.

And so he panicked. And so he ran away.

For years, Steve had regretted losing you – losing you for some overrated popularity bullshit, primitive constructs that matter so much to insecure teenagers. And the remorse only hit harder whenever he saw you strolling the school hallways alone, or being pushed against a locker for wearing Star Wars merchandise.

If only he could turn back time.

❃❃❃❃❃

You looked expectantly at Dustin, one hand on your hip.

“There’s a baby demogorgon roaming around Hawkins, his face opened up and he ate Mews, Steve and I are gonna hunt him down, and we need your help,” Dustin rambled. Steve watched in quiet amusement at the expressions flying across your face in rapid succession: confusion, disbelief, grief.

“You’re our only hope,” Dustin added, knowing the reference would win you over.

You knew about the Upside-Down. You had helped search for Will, and then Dustin told you about everything that went down: demogorgons and other dimensions and a bald child named Eleven.

“Mews?” You whimpered out. Dustin nodded solemnly, lips pressed together. You exhaled a sigh, pressing your hand to your temple before shouting, “Son of a bitch, the fuck are you waiting for then! Let’s go! I’ll meet you in the car.” You ushered them out with your hands, at the last minute grabbing Dustin by the collar of his shirt, pulling him so that you could whisper in his ear.

“The fuck is Steve Harrington doing here?” You hissed, teeth clenched.

“I thought you two were friends,” Dustin shrugged.

“Past tense, brother dear.”

“Look, I issued a code red, alright?” Dustin gestured to his headgear. “And nobody else was available. He was my last resort.”

You gently rolled your eyes, slapping him lightly against the head, muttering a short “gimme a sec.”

You pulled on some more decent clothing: jeans, loose sweater, jacket, Nike sneakers. The bangles on your wrist jiggled, blue and green and purple like all the lightsabers of the rainbow; headphones slung around your neck.

You sprinted to the car, jumping in the back. Steve tried to forced Dustin to move, to let you have shotgun, rambling about getting some more humility and learning some manners – all to no avail.

Steve’s eyes hadn’t left you since he saw you locking the door to your house, tracing you longingly, knowingly. He knew your gait better than his own. Recognized the sneakers on your feet, the same pair you bought years ago, creased and muddy. The chain around your neck that you slept with.

“You sure you don’t want shotgun?” Steve looked in the rearview mirror at you.

“I’m good,” you smiled softly, leaning back, feet on the console. Your nose instantly scrunched up in disgust, “Jesus, Steve, it stinks. You hiding a body back here?”

The boy chuckled, scratching his chin, a mischievous glint in his eyes. “You know it, Henderson.”

“It’s bait,” Dustin explained, though you were perfectly content with the banter. “And stop flirting, it’s disgusting.”

“Necrophilia, too, Harrington?” You picked up some bent and damaged roses haphazardly discarded on the back seat, continuing to egg him on much to Dustin’s dismay. A rumble of a laugh bloomed from Steve’s throat.

He really missed you.

Though you didn’t speak another word during the ride, opting to stare out the window and play with the soft rose petals while Dustin rambled on and on, Steve couldn’t keep his gaze off you. He shot fleeting glances at the mirror every few seconds, just to make sure you were still there. That he wasn’t dreaming of a vintage love.

And he suddenly thought the roses suited you much better than Nancy.

❃❃❃❃❃

You walked ahead of the boys, can in your left hand, flinging bits of meat around you with your right, headphones tightly clasped over your ears.

Behind you, the boys were having a quiet conversation that you didn’t even notice, too distracted and deafened by the music blasting in your ears.

“All right, so let me get this straight,” Steve started, confounded, chucking scraps of raw meat around, “You kept something you knew was probably dangerous in order to impress a girl… who you just met?”

“All right, that’s grossly oversimplifying things,” Dustin defended.

“I mean, why would a girl like some nasty slug anyway?” Steve scrunched up his nose in disgust.

“An interdimensional slug?” Dustin grinned. “Because it’s awesome!”

“Well, even if she thought it was cool, which she didn’t, I… I just… I don’t know. I just feel like you’re trying way too hard.”

Dustin looked at the ground, the hint of a frown on his eyebrows. “Well, not everyone can have your perfect hair, all right?”

“It’s not about the hair, man. The key with girls is just… just acting like you don’t care.” Steve’s eyes were fixated in front of him on the tracks, on his surroundings, absentmindedly chucking meat.

“Even if you do?” Dustin asked, minor bafflement in his tone.

“Yeah, exactly,” Steve nodded. “It drives them nuts.”

“Then what?”

“You just wait until, uh… until you feel it.” Steve nudged Dustin with his elbow.

“Feel what?”

“It’s like before it’s gonna storm, you know? You can’t see it, but you can feel it, like this, uh…” Steve squinted in thought, “electricity, you know?”

Dustin nodded. This was, after all, his area of expertise. “Oh, like in the electromagnetic field when the clouds in the atmosphere.”

“No, no, no, no, no, no, no, no,” Steve shook his head, hair bouncing. “Like a- like a- like a sexual electricity.”

“Oh.”

“You feel that,” Steve pointed a finger, “and then you make your move.”

“So that’s when you kiss her?”

“No, woah, woah, woah! Slow down, Romeo.”

“Sorry.”

“Sure, OK, some girls, yeah, they want you to be aggressive. You know, strong, hot and heavy, like a… I don’t know, a lion.”

“Mhmmm.”

“But others, you gotta be slow, you gotta be stealthy, like a… like a ninja.”

“What type is Y/N?”

“What?!” Steve stopped dead in his tracks, turning to Dustin.

“You’re in love with her, aren’t you?” Dustin asked nonchalantly, a blend of sheepish and confident.

“And what makes you say that, Henderson?” Steve squinted at the boy, a pink dust sprinkling on his cheeks.

“I don’t know. I just remember when I was young. You came over all the time. And you always stared at her. And you were always chasing her,” Dustin counted off on his fingers.

Steve gulped, his Adam’s apple bobbing, feelings that never truly vanished suddenly resurfacing like a tsunami wave.

Dustin’s lips curved into an ‘o’ shape, understanding hitting him, “so that’s why you two stopped hanging out. Making her think that you don’t care. I got ya-”

“No, no. Y/N/N’s different,” Steve interrupted. “Ignoring her doesn’t win her over, that’s not why- that was my mist- She’s different than other girls.”

“Yeah, she seems pretty special, I guess.” The only image in Dustin’s head being that one Halloween when you dressed up as Chewbacca and forced him to be an ewok.

“Yeah. Yeah, she is,” Steve affirmed, gaze resting on your figure. The light swaying of your hips and shoulders as you danced to a tune only you could hear. But damn, when did you get so curvy? And hot?

“But this girl’s special, too, you know,” Dustin added, talking about a whole different type of ‘special.’ “It’s just, like, something about her.”

“Woah, woah, woah. Hey, hey, hey.” Steve paused, arm extended.

“What?” Dustin halted at his side.

“You’re not falling in love with this girl, are you?” Steve’s eyes bore into Dustin, stern and serious.

“Uh, no. No.” Dustin shook his head vehemently.

“Come on, you two!” You yelled, turning around and seeing them a dozen feet away from you, huddled together. “Otherwise we’ll be lizard feed soon!”

Steve waved in assent and recognition, continuing to walk, still talking to Dustin, “OK, good… Don’t.”

“I won’t.”

“She’s only gonna break your heart, and you’re way too young for that shit.” Eyes glossed over. A visceral pain emerging.

A solemn expression grew on Dustin’s face, which Steve adroitly noticed. His heart softened. He remembered the same expression on your face.

“Fabergé,” Steve spoke into the silence.

“What?”

Steve pointed to his hair. “It’s Fabergé Organics. Use the shampoo and conditioner, and when your hair’s damp- it’s not wet, OK? When it’s damp…”

“Damp.”

“You do four puffs of the Farrah Fawcett spray,” Steve shyly finished.

“Farah Fawcett spray?” Dustin chortled.

“Yeah, Farah Fawcett. You tell anyone I just told you that, and your ass is grass. You’re dead, Henderson. Do you understand?”

“Yup.”

“OK.”

The two continued walking, flinging meat.

“Farah Fawcett, really?” Dustin questioned. “Y/N uses that.”

“I mean, they’re both hot.”

Dustin shot Steve a slightly disgusted yet bemused look.

❃❃❃❃❃

The three of you emerged from the thick of the woods into an abandoned field, a few broken down vehicles scattered about including a bus. You placed the headphones around your neck, scanning your surroundings.

Having donned his sunglasses, Steve nodded while looking around. “Oh, yeah. Yeah, this will do. This will do just fine. Good call, dude.”

Dustin beamed, and you ruffled his curls before a shrill voice called out: “I said medium-well!”

It was Lucas, and next to him a red-haired young girl.

“Who’s that?” You asked, and when Dustin scowled Steve instantly understood.

Extending your hand in greeting, you quickly acquainted yourself with Max Mayfield, more commonly known as Mad Max. A few jokes later, you already liked her, and the two of you instantly got to work, collecting scraps of metal and piling them around the bus, creating a fortification. After watching you discreetly, Steve joined in. Dustin and Lucas, on the other hand, were crouched behind some car, bickering in whispers.

Strolling past, Steve hit the car with a metal chair. “Hey! Dickheads! How come the only ones helping me out are Y/N/N and this random girl? We lose light in 40 minutes. Let’s go. Let’s go, I said!”

“Alright, asshole! God!” Dustin huffed out, simultaneous with Lucas’, “OK! Stupid!”

You all started throwing metal sheets onto a pile, piling it along the bus, rolling barrels, spreading gasoline around. You couldn’t help but revel in the sight of Steve: sweaty, rubbing his forehead with his sleeve, muscles bulging against the cloth of his clothes, jeans increasingly tighter.

You strolled over to a distant hedge to search for more scraps, and at watching you walk off Dustin nudged Steve with his elbow, gesturing with his head to follow you. For all his nagging, your little shithead of a brother happened to be quite protective over you. Steve pretended to roll his eyes, but like a lovesick puppy jogged over, muttering, “alright, alright.”

“Shit,” he heard you hiss. You were crouched down, examining a trail of blood seeping from your hand.

“Hey, you alright?” Steve acknowledged the way you tensed up at his voice, breath freezing in your lungs before that gorgeous smile of yours returned, albeit subdued.

“Sharp,” you pointed to a discarded car door.

“Here, let me.” Steve unzipped his jacket, untucking his shirt and ripping a piece off, despite your vehement protests. He crouched down next to you, head low as he wrapped your hand gently. Small mumbles of “sorry” when you winced at his applied pressure to tie it off. The linger of his hand on yours, the minor sweep of his thumb over your knuckles, like a caress.

“Thanks,” you said. A silence grew. You sat on the little mound of hill, turned towards the setting sun. Steve followed, a slight distance away from you.

After a moment: “Her name’s Max, by the way.”

“Huh?” Steve asked, head turning to you, eyes meeting for the first time.

“Random girl. She’s called Max.”

“Oh, right, right.” Steve nodded, looking into the distance, squinting at the sun. Where were his sunglasses now that he needed them?

“How have you been doing?” You asked timidly, bending your knees in front of your chest and hugging them.

“Aside from chasing giant lizards, you mean?” You giggled, and Steve’s ears marveled at the music. “Yeah, not exactly how I planned to spend my week.”

“I’m glad you’re here, though.” You smiled sheepishly, scratching the back of your neck awkwardly, bangles sliding down towards your elbow.

Steve wanted to say so much: I’m sorry I ever left, I’m not that thrilled about putting you in danger, I’m an oblivious and selfish prick. But Dustin’s shouting for you to return stopped him. Steve stuck out a calloused hand, helping you up. Despite his support, you still managed to trip on a scattered pebble, falling into his chest.

“Easy,” Steve hummed. Your perfume was intoxicating. Your hair tickled his neck. “You always were clumsy, Henderson.”

“Guilty as charged,” you pushed off, surprised at the firmness of Steve’s chest. That wasn’t what middle-school-Steve felt like.

The pair of you walked into the bus. A golden sun setting behind you. A dark and scary night rising.

While Lucas was on the roof, serving as lookout with binoculars glued to his eyes, the rest of you were in the body of the bus. Max on the back seat; Dustin pacing around; you and Steve side by side on the floor. He kept flicking his lighter, an unbearable waiting tension. Palpable, hard on your chest.

“So, you really fought one of these things before?” Max broke the crisp silence.

Steve nodded.

“And you’re, like, totally 100% sure it wasn’t a bear?”

“Shit. Don’t be an idiot, OK?” Dustin spoke, annoyed. “It wasn’t a bear. Why are you even here if you don’t believe us? Just go home.”

“Dustin!” You scolded, shooting him a shocked look, eyes wide.

Max was, naturally, taken aback. “Geesh, someone’s cranky. Past your bedtime?” She crawled up the ladder, next to Lucas.

“The hell has gotten into you?” You asked him, kicking his shin with your shoe.

“Steve told me to show Max that I don’t care,” he shrugged.

“You what?!” You turned to Steve.

Steve stuttered, mouth gaping like a fish out of water, “I-I-I just.”

“That’s the advice you gave him?” You scoffed.

“I’ll be over there… somewhere,” Dustin squeezed away to the front of the trailer, peeking out of the metal holes.

“So that’s your tactic, is it? Is that why you left me, too?” Fury and sorrow taking control of your brain, your actions. You were a puppet in your mind’s hands. “This whole time, were you just pretending that you didn’t care, or did you actually not give a fuck? Because it sure as hell felt like the latter.”

“No, no, no, that’s not-”

“All I ever wanted, Steve, was for you to see me,” you confessed, whispering into the cold night air, unaware of your actions. Tears welled in your eyes, all you could see was blurry redness. Your voice choked up, suffocating.

Steve was silent for a moment. But he caught your words. They didn’t float off. They didn’t ricochet back. They were caught, embraced, and reciprocated: “I never laid eyes off of you.”

Startled, you turned to him, breath catching in your throat.

“Y/N/N, listen to me,” Steve grabbed your hands in his, gentler with the wounded one, searching for your eyes which expertly avoided his. “I made a mistake. A big mistake. Which I- I can’t take back. And I’m sorry. Alright?” You started to pull your hands away, but he gripped them tighter. “I know that means bullshit but I- look, you didn’t deserve any of it, OK? And the advice? It’s shit advice. Cause you’re not like other girls. You’re special. And I’m a blind dumbass. And I care fo- screw it, I love you… too damn much.”

Chest huffing, jaw trembling, the odd tear falling down your cheek, Steve’s calloused thumb rubbing it away before it could slide over the bump of your cheekbone. You finally brought your eyes to his - his dark brown forests of sincerity and pain.

“I love you, too, Steve Harrington,” you voiced. “I always have. But I also hate you.” Your jaw trembled. “I hate everything about you: the way your hair is always so goddamn perfect, the way you make me laugh… and the fact that you broke my heart.”

He went to interrupt you, but you placed your finger against his lips. “A-and most of all, Harrington, I hate the way I don’t hate you. Not at all. After everything, not even a little bit.”

You moved your finger away. It felt like a weight had fallen off your chest, but had somehow latched itself to your foot, pulling you down into an endless chasm. Fat tears cascading down your cheeks. Drowning you.

Until Steve cut the silence.

“I really want to kiss you right now.”

You swallowed, eyelashes wet, emotions rampaging. The adrenaline of confessions erupting.

“Then do it.”

In one swift movement Steve cupped your neck, pulling you against him. You were on your knees, practically straddling him, palms flat against his firm chest. His lips desperately found yours, years of sorrow and loneliness forcefully emerging.

His fingers dug into your skin, your nails latched onto the fabric of his jacket. Neither of you wanted to lose the other. To let go even for a second. For fear that the other would fall into the void, travel to another galaxy, get lost in the vacuum of space.

Pulling away, you brought your forehead to Steve’s, eyes locked together, panting breaths hitting each other. His fingers traced your hairline, the contours of your face, your neck. His jacket bunched in your tight fists.

“Don’t you ever leave me again. I swear on my mother, I’ll kill you, Harrington,” you spoke under your breath, stance not faltering.

Steve flashed his lopsided grin, “If I do, I’ll hand you the gun before going.”

“It’ll probably be your nail-bat,” you giggled, scanning his face. The curve of his nose, the moles scattered like raindrops, the waves of hair.

His expression turned serious, nose bumping against your own as he whispered against your lips: “I won’t. I promise. I love you.”

“I know,” you couldn’t help from saying.

“Ahhh! My eyes!” Dustin yelled from the front, shielding his face with his arms. “Son of a bitch, Steve!”

❃❃❃❃❃

Thanks for reading! x

#lady writes #fallingintofiction #steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington imagines #steve harrington x y/n #stranger things #stranger things s4 #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington x reader fanfic #stranger things fanfic #stranger things imagine #1980s #joe keery #joe keery imagine #steve harrington angst #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington one shot

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winedrunkwords · 7 months

Text

lovely vision.

pairing: steve harrington x reader

summary: the one where people can tell when steve thinks about you and mike can't whisper. [1.1k]

warnings: fluff, unrequited-to-requited-love, gender-neutral!reader

✮⋆˙ ★⋆｡ °⋆ 𖤐⭒๋࣭ ⭑

In hindsight, he really played himself, hoping his super-observant, super-loud, no-boundary-having friends wouldn’t say anything. He couldn’t tell if that made it better or worse.

It’s one thing for Steve Harrington, self-proclaimed Halloween hater, to not mind when other people decorate his space. That can just be written off to him being polite and kind, even though Dustin would scoff at that and Eddie would laugh and Mike would call him out on the word “polite” being anywhere near his name.

The point is, being around other people’s decorations had some kind of plausible deniability. Him putting up Halloween decoration himself, however, there’s no deniability in that.

“What’s that?” Dustin asked as he slid into the backseat of Steve’s BMW, pointing at the ghost charm that dangles from the rearview mirror. Steve offered (read: was blackmailed) into driving the boys from the Wheelers house to the arcade even though they had perfectly functioning bikes. But then Dustin said they were teaching you how to play some game whose name he couldn’t remember and he definitely didn’t want you walking all that way, and since he was going that way anyways….

“Nothing,” Steve snapped back, staring straight ahead. Hopefully that would be the end of it and no one would s—

“Doesn’t look like nothing,” offered Mike, the traitor. His hair was long and in his eyes, like Eddie’s, but Steve could still feel the suspicious, almost accusing glare through the mess. “Looks like a decoration.”

Steve rolled his eyes. “It’s just an air freshener. I know teenage boys stink but you guys know what that is.”

“A ghost air freshener,” Lucas said, right in his ear. Steve had half a mind to kick him out, but he’d already started driving to your house and he didn’t want to be late. “That’s for Halloween, and you hate Halloween. You always buy those dumb trees.”

“Why are you paying so much attention to my spending habits?”

“Because they’re terrible.”

Steve glared at him through the rearview mirror (the traitor). “Don’t think I won’t make you walk.”

Your house was pretty close to the Wheelers and already decked out, considering Halloween was at the end of the month and it was only October first. Fake, giant spider webs stretched up the front yard to the porch, and pumpkins and Halloween decorations dotted almost every inch. Your house looked like it was out of a cartoon about the Addams family and your outfit matched it, all black and muted colors. Your smile, though, that made Steve feel like he’d sipped pure sunshine.

You slid into the passenger seat, your designated spot (to no one’s surprise and to your complete obliviousness). “Oh a little ghost! He’s so cute! Is he for Halloween?”

“Yeah, Steve,” Dustin asked with a shit-eating grin on his face. “Is he for Halloween?”

Rock and a fucking hard place. “Uh, yeah. It looked like it would fit the vibe, you know, and it smells nice.” Which wasn’t a lie. Steve genuinely did like the way it smelled, and the thought of you smiling at him the way you were now (warm, bashful, a little endeared) made the fact that it was a ghost a good thing.

You were endeared, maybe a few shades more than that. Steve’s indifference to Halloween was a well-known fact in the merry band of nerds (their name) that he chose to hang out with. Robin still talked about the year she got him to decorate his house with one (just one!) skeleton like it was a badge of honor. Now here he was, Levi jeans and orange sweater, with a ghost dangling from his car, glancing at you with a smile as he pulled into the arcade parking lot.

Maybe Mike thought he was quieter than he was; maybe he just wanted to ruin Steve’s life specifically. Either way, the entire car heard him over the radio when he murmured, “Man you really do turn into the people you love.”

Steve flushed and turned around so fast that you would be concerned about whiplash if you weren’t replaying what Mike said over and over again. People you love. “Alright, go play your damn games.”

None of the boys said anything, Mike looking almost uncharacteristically apologetic through the window. You smiled out at Dustin and said, “I’ll meet you guys in a few minutes, okay?” You could almost feel the man beside you turn into a statue.

“Okay.” He glanced between you and Steve nervously but ultimately chose to follow Mike and Lucas, leaving the two of you staring after the arcade door as it shut beside him.

“I’m sorry he said that,” Steve said almost frantically, eyes locked on the steering wheel so he didn’t have to see whatever horrible embarrassed look was on your face. “Mike never really knows when to shut up and he’s an instigator. He’s an idiot, actually. I’m really sorry; I can take it down if you want and —“

Your hand on his bicep shocked him into silence, and when he looked up at you, you were smiling like he’d given you a gift. “I don’t want you to take it down, Stevie.”

“What?”

“I don’t want you to take it down,” you repeated, “I like it. Why are you saying sorry for liking me back?”

“Because I don’t want to — pause. Did you say back?”

You laughed, and it was the best sound Steve had ever heard in his life. He wanted it bottled up for him only, the only thing sustaining him for the rest of his life. “Eddie kept saying I was really obvious.”

“He kept saying that to me too,” Steve replied. “He’s just stupid.” He wasn’t entirely sure what’s happening, but you were still looking at him. Your hand fell onto his, right on the console, and relief burst inside his chest, a cool relief like a sip of water when you were parched.

Liking him back. What the fuck?

“I don’t think either of us are much better right now.”

His hand, of its own volition but also because it knew if he didn’t do this he would never forgive himself, cupped your cheek, and he didn’t even have time to ask before you said, “yes,” and leaned in. And he was kissing you.

Steve Harrington was kissing you like he needed it to breathe, like it was the difference between him being able to keep going or crumble right then and there. Steve Harrington liked you back.

You parted, and fell back into each other once, twice, before he pulled away far enough that he could talk. He whispered, “If those kids come out here and stop me, I’ll strand them, I swear.” Your answering laugh felt like absolution.

✮⋆˙ ★⋆｡ °⋆ 𖤐⭒๋࣭ ⭑

thank you so much for reading this! i wanted to write something for the beginning of october and i've been missing steve, hence a little steve one-shot. pls let me know what you think; i'd love to hear it! feel free to like and reblog if you enjoyed this, it really does help <3

#steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x reader fluff #steve harrington x reader fanfic #steve harrington fluff #stranger things fluff #stranger things fanfic #steve harrington fanfic #stranger things x reader fanfic #stranger things #mine #fic;

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abibliophobiaa · 1 year

Text

Beyond — s.h. x f!reader

Chapter Two: I Think I Wanna Marry You

a/n: here’s chapter two of my purely self-indulgent fun, which shouldn’t be taken very seriously, if at all fic. haha. wanted to play around with one of my favorite tropes, so here we are with modern day!rich!fake husband!steve harrington x afab!reader.

warnings/tags: hugely unedited; mentions of alcohol; parent loss, both parties; r has a sister and father; smut in later chapters, so 18+, minors dni; additional tags to be added.

masterlist

The move itself brings a second dose of reality you never fully thought through.

Seeing Steve there, with his dark BMW, sunglasses on his face. He’s popped the trunk already and it’s with that sudden clarity you’re reminded that it’s happening.

That this is real and not some dream you’ve imagined in your mind.

You’re marrying him. In four weeks. Thirty days, exactly. A countdown to the next three years of your life. The other half of your “paperwork” you’re going to sign when you scribble your name along that certification of your marriage.

You work in comfortable silence. Robin and Nancy come along too for assistance, and with the combination of efforts, Steve’s car is packed in less than two hours. You’re shocked he’s even bothered to do it himself, and not order some sort of moving company. But when you point that out to him, he only shrugs and says he wanted to help.

Apparently it’s the least he can do for getting a wife at the end of all of this.

That and countless zeros on a check that he doesn’t even need or want.

Once your things are all settled in the trunk and backseat, Robin wanders over to where you both stand on the sidewalk, arms looping tight around your frame. She steps back and moves to tousle Steve’s hair, earning a sharp jerk of his body out of contact and an utterance of complaint from the taller man.

With a snort, she says, “You love me, don’t deny it.”

And he does. You know that much. He’s been closer with Robin for a year or so now. A direct result of her relationship with Nancy. Nancy’s job as a journalist, often documenting his life or the accolades of his family, has established a bond between the three. You try to tamper that slight jealousy.

The fact is that both Robin and Eddie have more insight into the man you’re marrying than you do.

You were always too busy, after all. Working or deep in your own studies and missing out on the many evenings Steve invited them all to join him in his outings. You suppose you’ll rectify that soon. There’s a lot two people can learn in three years—if he’s open to it, that is.

That awareness of truly not knowing him settles in as you clamber into the passenger seat, thumb sliding awkwardly over the band of your engagement ring to fiddle idly. He turns the dial on the music, something pop and current, and you lean back against your seat, letting the quiet of the morning wash over you.

You wake some time later to the sound of Steve’s voice in your ear, announcing, “Hey. We made it.”

Sleep lingers in your eyes as you shift in your seat to take him in. Dark eyes greet yours, sunglasses tucked into the neckline of his shirt. Your gaze then slides to the imposing building on a side of the city you’ve never really ventured outside of your coffee date with him some days prior.

It stands proud, tall and looming, with workers at the ready, prepped with carts for your things.

“They’ll take care of bringing everything up, and I thought maybe we could grab a coffee,” he suggests, moving to open his door. He tosses the valet his key and waltzes over to your side, opening the door for you. “How does that sound?”

You’re suddenly aware of the state of your clothes. Nothing more than a pair of baggy mom jeans and a striped tee shirt. Some white tennis shoes that are veering on brown in some areas from overuse.

Then there’s Steve, in dark wash jeans and a shirt you know likely still cost him a small fortune. Effortlessly handsome as always with a Chanel watch strapped around the wrist extended toward you.

You take his palm, nearl tripping over the bump of the curb as you go, your side thumping against his. He curls you there instead of letting you go, an arm around your shoulder, waving to the workers as they shift and swirl around you.

Keeping up appearances already, you suppose.

One pauses to dip their head your way, beaming brightly, asking, “It’s the girl from Instagram. Congratulations, Miss. Or rather, soon to be Mrs. Harrington.”

The name drops something akin to cool dread in your stomach. But you smile all the same. “You know what they say. When you know—” You tip your head up to look at him, gripping him by the jaw and giving him a soft wiggle. “You know.”

In your palm, Steve forces a grin. A little wild, a little smushed and silly, but the worker smiles all the same and wishes you both a good morning. Leaves you standing beside your soon to be husband on the side of an unfamiliar street, in an unfamiliar new town, ready to walk into your unfamiliar home.

“Coffee sounds good, actually,” you decide, wanting to be anywhere other than stuck in the awkward silence of the moment, and follow him down the sidewalk.

By the time you return, Steve’s been alerted that all your things have been brought up to the penthouse. Coffee in hand, you walk through the swirling doors, standing as close to Steve as humanly possible without truly touching him. There are people there to greet him, realizations in the back of your mind that he must be well-known. Amicable and kind, they offer warm welcomes to both you and your future husband as you’re led to an elevator that brings you all the way up to the top floor.

It’s from there, you’re brought into the place you’ll be spending the next few years. But what greets you is far greater than you even imagined. Endless floor to ceiling windows that overlook the cityscape. High, vaulted ceilings, impossibly white walls. Dark furniture throughout the living area, the kitchen. Against the living room wall rests the largest television you’ve seen, presently off, though Steve turns it on to allow some music to play and break the awkward silence as he walks you around.

He’s already told you the general layout of his space: two bathrooms, multiple bedrooms, a fully decked out personal gym, movie area, dining area, outdoor patio, a study that also poses as his office, a library. It seems impossible to have this much space, and yet the further into the suite you walk, the more real it becomes.

“Seems not lived in, though,” you comment out loud, taking in the impressively clean place. Especially knowing Steve doesn’t spend much time at all here. “Like there’s all this space and nothing to fill it with.”

He huffs out a laugh, not disagreeing. “You can spruce it up if you want. I’ll give you my card. Whatever you like to make it feel like yours. Because, well, it is yours.”

“Yours, mine, and ours, right?” You awkwardly laugh, walking over to look out the windows and take in the bustling city below. “It’s amazing.”

“It’s…yeah, you know, I guess it is.” He sidles up next to you, peering out where you are. He frowns, contemplative. “I guess I don’t think about it often. I wake up to it every day.”

Another stark reminder of just how different your lives are.

“How was wedding planning with my mom?” he asks, drawing you attention to his face. His fingers card through his hair, his feet carrying him over to the kitchen to pull out a glass. He adds a second, asking, “Anything to drink?”

“Water is fine,” you say, hands clasped behind your back as you join him. “We went over color schemes. I ended up with pale pinks, lavenders and a tiny pop of gold. More so the accents. We will be looking for a dress tomorrow. Kind of shitting myself over that one.”

“I can come—if you want?” He suggests, holding your glass in front of him.

“Isn’t that bad luck?” you tease, taking a sip.

“Pretty sure that’s only at the wedding.”

“Right.” The wedding. In thirty days. “I mean, if you wanted to come…”

“I’ll be there,” he promises, opening his phone and showing you the calendar app. “What time?”

“Your mother got us a private appointment at twelve. I told her she didn’t have to do that but—”

“She’s excited. She’s getting a daughter out of this. Sometimes I think she wishes I’d been a girl,” he laughs, though there’s a hint of bitterness there you don’t miss. “Here—let me show you your room.”

You trail after him in silence, eyes taking in everything you pass. Boring, empty walls. No pops of color. No personal photos. Nothing indicative of life. Not even a shred of memorabilia from his childhood, or something of sentimental value from his boyhood. It seems odd, though you don’t press him on it. Instead you allow him to bring you through the tour, before stopping in front of a closed door.

“This,” he says, tapping on the exterior, “is my room. In case you ever need me. And here…”

You walk further down the way and stop in front of another door. “Will be your room. All your things will have already been moved in. You just have to unpack and make it yours. I do have some work I need to get to now, but I’m around if you need me.”

“It’s the weekend…” you point out, fingers around the door handle.

“Yeah,” he agrees, pushing his glasses up on the bridge of his nose. “But with all that’s going on, I want to make sure everything is taken care of before the wedding and our honeymoon.”

Honeymoon.

Right.

To that private island in the Maldives.

A honeymoon for two people who are most definitely not intimate and, therefore, should not be spending money like this is anything more than a mere sham.

Still, your flights are booked, accommodations made, and itinerary is set. It was the first thing his mother had done other than figuring out what color palette you preferred.

“So, uh, I’ll talk to you…later then,” you say, shifting awkwardly on the balls of your feet.

“Yeah, later.” He nods.

And suddenly, you’re Cinderella once more.

Standing there in that doorway, in her too-big home, with that pumpkin instead of a carriage.

Though you’ve never spent much time fantasizing about shopping for your wedding dress, it never quite looks like what you see around you now.

For starters, you imagined your mother would be there. Kind, bright and smiling. There to tell you how beautiful you look, to coax you through your nerves, to remind you that this is the most special day of your life coming up and to just enjoy the moment.

But it’s not. And you’re left standing on a pedestal in front of Mrs. Harrington, your father, sister, Eddie and Robin. Further off in the distance is Steve, phone against his face as it has been since you woke that morning.

Steve’s always busy, you soon realize. In the private car to take you to the boutique? He had a work conference call. In the kitchen while you ate your breakfast? Another phone call. Now here, while a bridal attendant works with his mother to find you some options to try on? He’s got some major meltdown to help sort out.

You understand, and yet there’s a slight sting there you’re not expecting. The idea that he said he would be there for your try-on session, but he’s not really there. Not emotionally, at least.

“Still can’t believe you got Eddie to come,” Caroline laughs, elbowing the man in question as he snatches her up and shakes her vigorously. “Stop it, asshole—”

“Caroline!” your father snaps, leaning back into the couch cushion as another attendant passes out glasses of champagne for all present.

They even manage to find some juice for your sister, so she feels involved with the process.

“So, we picked a few beautiful pieces. A lot of these are brand new, so you won’t have to worry about someone else wearing the same dress—”

“Oh I’m not concerned about—”

Mrs. Harrington clears her throat, waving her champagne flute in the air. “Only the best for my future daughter in law.”

You shoot a weak grin Robin’s way.

Eddie gives you a reassuring thumbs up, arm still around Caroline’s neck despite her protesting.

The next few hours are a whirlwind of trying on dress after dress. Fancy beading, endless lace, plunging backs, dramatic trains, striking silhouettes.

You’re decked in beading from head to toe, diamond encrusted gowns, gowns that look like they’re better suited for royalty than on the girl who grew up in Hawkins. Who worked at her little hole in the wall restaurant and had a normal, unglamorous upbringing.

It hits you as you’re standing there, with a veil that looks to be studded with expensive jewels, staring at your own reflection that this isn’t you. None of these are. And even if you’re marrying someone to help them fulfill a will and to secure a debt for your own self, there’s a part of you that wants to do things your way.

If you’re going to get married to Steve Harrington, you want to feel like yourself while doing it. “Do you have something more…simple? Classic. Understated, maybe?”

The bridal attendant looks to your future mother-in-law like you have grown five dozen heads, and the look your mother-in-law then gives you tells you she is agreeing with the same sentiment.

Her gaze wavers, shifting over to where her son is pacing in the background, before she shifts back to where you stand on a podium.

The girl in a fancy ball gown that feels like a costume more than anything else.

“What are you thinking, sweetheart?” she asks, and you blow out a heavy breath.

Your guests shift on the couch awkwardly as you hop off the podium and peruse the dozens of racks. You point out the ones that seem more comfortable, more like something you would have picked up on your own even before all of this. Simpler designs, classical silhouettes, subtle beading.

All in all, you end up in a stunning a-line princess, v-neck wedding gown with thin straps and a pretty lace detailing along the low back.

A minimalistic veil is placed at the back of your head and draped around you like a billowing halo, trailing down the pedestal and onto the cream carpeting below.

Behind you, Eddie whistles.

Caroline snaps photos on her phone.

Robin’s shouting, “Holy shit, babe.”

And when you turn around to your father and future mother-in-law, you know you’ve made the right decision in trusting your gut. Both have snatched tissues from a nearby tissue box and dab ceaselessly at their eyes, sniffling audibly.

“You look beautiful, honey,” your father says around a sob.

Bottom lip wobbling, you whisper, “Thank you.”

Mrs. Harrington waves in her son’s direction, calling over her shoulder, “Steve, look at your bride. Stop being rude.”

When he turns around, there’s a moment. A brief one, you think, where he pauses. Maybe it’s a realization he’s making a huge mistake, the understanding that he’s going to have a wife in a few short weeks, the idea that he’s giving up his future for three years. But there’s a thought, however fleeting, where his eyes widen and you wonder if it’s actually none of those at all.

Without a name to place that emotion to, you simply swallow and mutter softly, “Well, what do you think?”

Eddie leans against the couch, fingers draping over the plush back as he asks out loud, “Yeah, Stevie, what do you think?”

It’s a threat.

Veiled.

There’s no danger, not really, but Steve swallows all the same.

Wavers a bit as he looks to Eddie, then back to you.

He swallows again, and says, “You’re beautiful, honey.”

Disappointment sinks like an anchor of dread, because you wonder if he even means it.

Cake testing a week later fares no better. You’re still getting used to your new routine. Waking up early to an empty home in an empty room that hardly feels like yours. Steve’s usually off to sort out something with the business, while you’re left to your own devices.

Which means phone calls with the wedding planner, pictures sent back and forth between Steve and your future mother-in-law about decisions made, which Steve always just sends and thumbs up emoji back to, and trying to make sense of a wedding that only one half of the couple has been privy to.

Sure, he’d been there when you picked out your dress. But he hadn’t been for the floral arrangements, for figuring out what the bridesmaids will wear as well as the groomsmen. And he’s definitely not there when you’re presented with options for musical entertainment.

So it comes as a shock when he does end up coming for the cake testing. And since he’s free to do so, his mother stays home, suggesting it’ll be an intimate moment for you two. Something about how the cake is important.

You hold back your biting remarks about how it’s just a cake, and instead thank her.

Whine a bit on the phone to really sell the fact that you ‘miss Stevie’—in case she doubts the validity of your engagement. She’s not really shown any indications of such, but you’re growing more mindful of the importance of appearances.

Because it’s in that first week your name pops up in the popular pages of instagram and other social media platforms. There’s even a TikTok of you walking on a busy city street with Steve and Eddie, where people bring to question if you and Steve are already fighting based on your body language.

Though, you do suppose there’s some weight to their remarks. In said video, you’re standing closer to Eddie than Steve, and Steve’s phone is in the hand nearest to you. The one they suggest he should really be holding if he’s as in love as he is. It sounds ridiculous, but it does make sense.

In their eyes, you’re more likely to be dating the famous rockstar based on body language alone than your fiancé.

Wedding planning should be butterflies in your belly, heart eyes for days, wrapped up in one another sort of affection. Steve and you, on the other hand, are two people walking side by side and yet not together.

You understand you need to change that. So as you walk down the street that evening on your way to the bakery, you mutter out, “Hold my hand.”

“What?” He’s typing on his phone, as always. The sound of keyboard clicking meets your ears, before he locks the screen and slides it into his pocket.

“Hold,” you say. There’s a little extra bite this time, “my hand.”

He exhales. “Why?”

“Because you’re in love with me and we’re getting married in less than twenty days,” you remind him.

Less than three weeks. Just under that, really. A thought that immediately has your skin prickling with nervousness and anticipation. Three weeks until you have a new name, a new husband.

“And we’re on our way to our cake testing,” you add, lacing your fingers through his. “People have been talking about us on social media.”

“Saying what?” He leads you down a side street, and then another.

“That we look uncomfortable with one another. That it seems like we must be fighting, because you don’t show me any affection in public—”

“I’ve been—”

“Busy, I know. But they don’t know that, so they’ll fill in the blanks when applicable,” you explain, giving his palm a light squeeze. “So I think we should get used to the public displays of affection, don’t you? I mean, we’re going to have to kiss at the altar, for one. And then there’s the dancing at the reception. Photos. Events.”

“I guess you’re right,” he agrees.

“I know I’m right,” you joke, allowing him to open the door for you to the building.

“Cake testing can be intimate. This is one of your first meals as a couple, so it needs to be representative of your relationship. The two of you. The love you share,” the cake maker explains, her hands waving to and fro in the air like she’s painting a picture.

You glance over at Steve. He offers a shrug, likely just as uncertain as to what the hell this lady is getting at. “Pardon?”

“You want a cake that is representative of your love. A symbol—if you will.”

“It’s just a c—” Steve begins, but the older woman narrows her gaze darkly and he clears his throat. Uncomfortable. “Honey, why don’t you handle this one?”

“Oh, but darling, you’re the cake connoisseur.” You pat the hand holding yours affectionately atop the table, forcing a megawatt grin on your lips.

“Is that so?” Madeleine asks, cat eye glasses sliding lower down the bridge of her nose. “In that case, did you have any ideas for what you imagined the cake at your wedding to look like?”

Steve’s hand nervously grows tighter around yours. You hiss at the throbbing pain that develops there when your knuckles smash together. The grasp immediately loosens, a thumb coming to slide gently over the sore areas.

You choose to ignore the rush of heat that swoops low in your belly, though.

“Well—I pictured…a cake,” he expresses lamely.

“What my dear fiancé means to say is…we’ve been so caught up with the rush of wedding planning we haven’t given it much thought,” you giggly airily, faux coyness filling your tone. “You know how it is. We’re just so excited to spend the rest of our lives together. So we were hoping maybe you’d be able to suggest some options for us.”

Because you’re also not sure how to tell them your cake needs to be representative of a mix of high levels of shame and “I was drowning in debt and Steve offered assistance, so long as I become his wife.”

Madeleine huffs and gets to work.

Later, the two of you stumble back onto the street with a cake picked out and designed to Madeleine’s liking. A red velvet center with some endless swirling flowers along the exterior in the color scheme of your wedding.

“A cake reflective of our relationship,” he mutters, shaking his head as he reaches for your palm once more. “And what was that? Sacrificing me to her?”

You bat your eyelashes prettily, shrugging. “My idea of a cake is a boxed Pillsbury one. I figured you were the closest to an expert we would get. Also—you nearly broke my hand there.”

“I was stressed,” he argues, though there’s a hint of a smile curling his lips. His thumb does another one of those low sweeps that has you pausing in your footsteps. “But that was a little ridiculous, wasn’t it?”

You bark out a laugh, following him down the still unfamiliar streets leading home. “A little? I don’t know where your mother and the wedding planner found her. It’s a cake. It’s literally a cake we’re going to have one bite of before the caterers feed it to the rest of our guests.” A shudder ripples down your spine at that. “Our guests. Weird to think, huh?”

“Less than three weeks,” he muses, the two of you crossing at a streetlight. “Still feeling okay with the whole thing?”

“Okay? That's still to be determined.” He waves to someone in passing. Likely a neighbor, you assume. “Backing out? Absolutely not.”

One thing you definitely didn’t consider in this whole…fake marriage plot with Steve, is the concept of bachelor and bachelorette parties. You are obviously well aware of the typical fanfare, have been in numerous weddings as it is, but there are no parameters or guidelines in place for a wedding that has been planned in thirty days in an effort to rush to the altar.

So, you leave that part of the wedding planning up to your friends.

And somehow the end result is a joint party.

What could possibly go wrong?

“Holy shit, Steve.” Robin’s head falls back as she enters your bedroom, mouth dropping open, taking it all in. It’s the size of both your rooms combined back at your old place. “At least you got a nice place out of all this.”

You shrug, dropping down onto your bed. Fingers splay across the sheets, soft and cool beneath. Against your closet rests the white jumpsuit you’ve decided on for your party. A sleeveless number that cinches at the waist and a sweetheart neckline that cups your breasts sumptuously.

Pretty.

But there’s the dawning realization that tonight all the attention will be solely on you and Steve.

So what do you do?

“This is a terrible idea,” Steve groans, wincing as his shot goes down.

“Actually, it’s probably one of the best I’ve had,” Eddie exclaims, clapping you both on the back.

The sting of tequila burns in your nose. The flowing sash across your chest that says Mrs. Harrington rumples when your arm reaches over to place the glass back down on the countertop. Robin’s there to adjust it, grinning despite your sour expression.

“Wow, look at you two,” she coos, pulling out her phone to snap a photo. “For your story. They’ll eat it up. Plus, better to get all the cute pictures now, instead of when you’re both drunk later.”

Steve pulls you closer to take a photo, grumbling. “We are not getting drunk.”

“Steeeeve.”

You’re drunk.

“Yeah, honey bunny.”

Aaaaand so is he.

“F—” You hiccup. He laughs, leaning bodily into your shoulder. “—uck. I’m gonna kill Eddie.”

Even though Eddie’s only responsible for your first drink. Not the second, or the third, fourth…you’re not sure where you’re at now.

There’s at least an awareness that it’s enough; enough to have the room spinning when you sit down, and Steve beside you like an anchor in a shaky sea.

So when he moves to stand, your fingers curl around his wrist and drag him back down again. “No. Don’t go. We’re…to death do us part.”

“Till,” he corrects, snorting playfully. “You’re gonna see me everyday for…three years.”

“But there’s so many people here. Soooo many. And most of them are your friends,” you whine, clasping your hand in his as he leads you back out further into the people spread out along the private rooftop. “You have soooo many friends. Did you know that?”

He simply laughs, just as Eddie’s voice breaks over the noise all around you. A loud shout of, “The soon to be newlyweds should do the next round of karaoke!”

“Edward Munson, you little s—” Another hiccup. Shit, you think, we’re giggly drunk tonight. “shit. I’m gonna beat your ass like I did when we were kids.”

“It’s like something out of a fuckin’ romcom,” Steve later whines as you’re both pushed onto the stage by a bunch of cheering friends. “And they picked our song already.”

“Oh no, which one?” You slur a bit on your words, one ankle rolling like a baby deer.

Steve grasps your bicep to steady you. “Marry You by Bruno Mars.”

“Nooo,” you moan, hiding your face in his collar bone. Shit, you think, I’m a flirty drunk tonight too. “Think we can escape our own party?”

One glance out to your awaiting guests tells you that’s not at all a possibility. Steve’s there, overly affectionate now that you’ve got a crowd, with a hand on your lower back, pulling you close.

To anyone else, you’re a couple celebrating their nuptials in the next few days.

To you, you know he’s laying it on thick.

Making sure there is absolutely no question as to the validity of your marriage.

Especially with potential co workers around, with those who can easily talk rumors in the halls, who might wonder why the speedy engagement and rush down the aisle in the first place.

“One song,” you shout over the crowd, over Steve’s shoulder.

And then, in a puff of breath against his ear you whisper, “Make it count, hubby.”

“It’s a beautiful night. We’re looking for something dumb to do. Heyy babyyyy! I think I wanna marry you!” You sing.

If you can consider it that.

To Eddie it’s screeching or a shrill wail, a high pitched thing that makes everyone around you wince.

There’s interference with the mic that has Eddie’s eyes slamming shut against the sharp pang against his eardrums.

“Think we should stop them?” Robin asks out loud, watching Steve awkwardly bob and sway beside you, never really sure of what to do with his body when it comes to music.

“No,” Eddie chuckles darkly, leaning back on his chair. “Those idiots are involving us in a literal crime, so we’re going to have our fun with it.”

“Is it the look in your eyes or is it this dancing juice? Who cares, baby, I think I wanna marry you,” Steve continues, and it’s clearly not up to your standard, because you grab his arm and wiggle it frantically.

“I am marrying him!” You giggle over the microphone, extending your ring to the crowd. “Can you believe it? Mrs. Harrington.”

“Oh no,” Robin mutters, gripping Nancy’s hand beside her. “She’s giggly now.”

“She’s fucked up. She’s going to kill us in the morning,” Eddie grumbles.

Robin’s eyes widen as Nancy says, “I really feel like you two should stop them. Because Steve just grabbed her and now they’re, uh, making out on the stage—”

Robin jumps to her feet. “Oh fuck.”

You wake in the morning to a bunch of tiny needles stabbing your skull. Like someone took a jackhammer to your brain and pushed an on switch.

Brain practically groaning in your head, you lift yourself slowly into a sitting position and moan at the throb that rolls down the nape of your neck and down your spine.

Wincing, you kick your legs over the side of the bed and insert your feet into the slippers on the floor down below, sighing at the immediate comfort.

The penthouse is full of chatter. Voices mill from the kitchen, soft despite the clanging cymbals you’re convinced are in your brain. And there, at the kitchen island, stands none other than your two (ex) best friends and your soon to be husband, cups of coffee held against their temples, shame ebbing from their forms.

“Good morning, beautiful,” Robin coos, turning around to gauge your expression.

You don’t miss the shock of brows curling high on her forehead, nor do you miss the tick in Eddie’s cheek as he fights a smile.

“I must look like shit,” you grumble, sliding into the kitchen between the group, uncaring as your shoulder brushes Steve’s. There’s already an iced coffee for you on the countertop. Steve must have ordered, you assume, fighting the flutter in your chest at the thought. “I feel like shit. Very unsexy shit. People keep talking about my bridal beauty, but I feel very much like a bridal beast right now.”

Robin shakes her head, hand on your shoulder. “No, you look fine, you look—”

“Like you’ve had better nights,” Eddie says nonchalantly, earning a cough from Steve to his left.

“I’m sorry, it seems like your invitation to my wedding was rescinded. So weird,” you say brightly, leaning against Robin’s shoulder, pinching your eyes against the bright kitchen lightning. “You’re no longer my best friend. Maybe you’ll fare better with Steve here.”

Why did Steve get a building with white walls as far as the eye can see? You also decide your first purchase will be curtains to block out the natural light coming through the large windows covering the entirety of your living room exterior.

“Tell me you guys didn’t have fun,” Eddie says with a roll of his eyes. “Unless you don’t remember much of it. But it looked like you were having fun.”

The thing is, you remembered every moment.

Every interaction with your guests, every brush of shoulders from your soon to be husband.

Every fleeting glance.

Every look over the top of your glass.

The way your heart danced in your chest as he led you onto that stage.

How his fingers had curled around your own as you sang that ridiculous karaoke song.

How his lips had felt when he dropped a hand to the small of your back and tugged you flush against his form.

The way his heart thundered against yours where your sternums pressed together.

The warmth of his palm.

The heat of his breath as you breathed one another in.

The fullness of his mouth against yours, gentle brushes at first that soon grew passionate.

Heated.

It had been scalding.

A burn that simmered.

A burn you relished, wanted to fan into flame, wanted to foster in the moment.

Just a silly, stupid, alcohol-fueled moment.

It means nothing.

Nothing.

“I don’t really remember much after we left here,” Steve says.

He stares at you. Eyes locked on your face. Imploring.

Eddie and Robin shift your way, too.

Curiosity brims, and your heart aches.

You open your mouth. “I don’t really remember much either.”

Seven days.

You’ll be a wife in seven days.

Don’t get it twisted now, you remind yourself.

#steve harrington x reader #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington x reader fanfic #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x reader fluff #modern!steve harrington #fake husband!steve harrington #steve harrington fic #steve harrington x female reader #steve harrington modern au

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primroseparker · 2 years

Note

Hi there! I've had this idea stuck in my head for a while and I'd rather read it than write it lol -though I might write something myself eventually-

Reader strongly disliking physical touch from everyone but Steve, and him being completely oblivious to it. The rest of the friend group pointing it out and him refusing to believe them, so the whole lot decide to prove him wrong with some sort of masterplan. (Idiots in love am I right)

What do you think? Hope you have a great day xxx

The Only Exception || Steve Harrington x female!reader

Summary: Physical touch was something you despised, but as always, Steve’s touch was the only exception. When he refuses to believe that you actually hate the whole concept of it, the kids come up with a plan to prove him wrong.

Word Count: 2.3k

Warnings: fluff, a tiny bit of angst, reader dislikes physical touch

A/N: I’m sorry it took so long for me to write it. It was difficult because I’m the complete opposite (big fan of physical touch), but I tried my best to implement it in the story. I hope you like it! Also, this is not based on the Paramore song “The Only Exception”, I just thought that the title would fit this story lmao

The warm and bright rays of sunshine slip through the curtains, shining directly on your face and awakening you from your unconscious state. You squeeze your eyes shut and turn to face the other side. A hand comes up to your face, its thumb caressing your cheek slowly. You open your eyes and are met with Steve’s sleepy gaze.

“Hey,” he whispers as he gives you a small smile.

“G’morning,” you murmur as you put your arms around his waist and hug him close. “How long have you been up for?”

“Not long, I was just waiting for you to wake up,” he says nuzzling against your neck. He leaves a trail of soft kisses all the way from your jaw to your collarbone.

“I missed you last night,” he continues.

“I’m sorry, I had to stay later than planned because this customer would just not shut up,” you groan as you remember the encounter. He pulls back to meet his gaze with yours.

“I mean, he just kept going on and on about how his son was going off the rails with this so-called ‘satanic’ D&D game, saying that he was worried he would turn out to be a cult member,” rubbing the sleep from your eyes and then raising your arms above your head to stretch.

“All I did was ask how he was doing, which is obviously a question that is asked clearly out of courtesy. I’m just a retail worker working minimum wage, not a therapist,” you scoff and roll your eyes in frustration.

He looks at you with an amused expression. He loved that you felt comfortable enough to rant about your feelings, knowing full well that you had trouble doing so with most people. But he also found it entertaining because of the way you told your stories.

“Don’t worry about it, dove. I’m just glad to wake up next to you,” he says, voice still raspy from sleep. He pulls you back into a hug and you close your eyes, letting the warmth from his touch embrace you like the world’s most comfortable blanket.

In the two months you and Steve had been dating, neither of you had discussed your love languages. He assumed yours was physical touch since you always welcomed his touch eagerly. Because of this, he never had a reason to think otherwise. But in reality, you were never one to favor physical closeness. Your childhood lacked the expression of love through touch because your parents were never affectionate with you, or with each other for that matter.

Before Steve, any kind of physical closeness would make you uncomfortable. However, having him that close would not only make you happy but calm. His hugs and kisses were like a breath of fresh air. It was something new and exciting, yet calming when you were stressed or low-spirited. Despite loving having him that close, his touch was the only one you tolerated. You, of course, were certain that his love language was physical touch; it was as clear as day and everyone knew it.

“Come on, let’s go get some breakfast so we can help set up for Dustin’s birthday party,” you say as you let go of Steve and sit up into a cross-legged position. He throws his arm over his face and sighs.

“Alright, just give me five more minutes of sleep and then I’ll get up to shower,” he mumbles into his arm.

“Five minutes will turn into ten, ten will turn into twenty, and next thing you know we’ll be an hour late, Steve”

“Fine,” he groans, “I’m getting up now.”

Your mouth quirks up at the corners with contentment. You love living with Steve. Moments of simple domestic bliss are your favorite, especially ones like these. Mornings with him are so soft. It is when you would let your guard down, allowing yourself to be who you really are, and it’s the same way for him. Uncrossing your legs, you give him a kiss on the forehead and get up from the bed. The two of you need to be at the Wheeler’s place soon to set up for the party, and if there’s one thing you dislike more than anything is being late.

“Stevie, you better be in the shower by the time I come back!” you shout as you head to the kitchen to make breakfast for the two of you. As much as you love Steve, mornings, when you had somewhere else to be, were not easy.

—

“Happy birthday, Henderson,” Steve smiles as he embraces Dustin in a tight hug. The setup for the party had been pretty easy. All of the kids had offered to help make their friend’s birthday a special one, especially after everything that happened with the Upside Down.

“Thanks, man,” Dustin responds.

“You know, it would’ve been a hell of a lot easier if you had told us what you wanted as a present instead of having us guess,” Steve says while rolling his eyes.

Although he loved the kid, he hated trying to find a present that would be perfect to Dustin’s liking. It was incredibly stressful to him because he wanted it to be perfect. He wanted him to have a present that he would actually enjoy, something that Steve hadn’t experienced in his childhood as a result of his parent’s emotional negligence. Sure, they always provided him with anything he needed, but they never bothered to give him the attention and affection all childrens need. Every year, his parents would always give him money to buy whatever he wanted, even as a child. The thought that goes into buying a loved one something they want is much better than an envelope with a hundred bucks and a half-hearted congratulations.

“I’m sure I’ll love whatever you got me. Plus, where’s the fun in just telling you?”

“Yeah, yeah. Whatever, dude. It better be something you like, otherwise I’m making you bike to return it for something you actually like. I’m not wasting gas on that,” he grumbles. You give him a knowing smile, after all, you know him well enough to know that he was all bark and no bite. At least not when it came to the people he loved. It seemed like Dustin knew it too because he just chuckles at his remark.

“Happy birthday, Dustin,” you smile as you hand the young teen a blue envelope that contains a birthday card.

“Thanks, y/n!” he says much more enthusiastically. Suddenly, he wraps his arms around you, with your own pinned against your side. You become still as a statue, not knowing how to respond to his touch. Not wanting to hurt his feelings, you bring your right hand up to his back and give him a quick pat. He seems to get the hint because he drops his arms and gives you a slight smile.

“Steve, could you help me carry one of my new inventions? It’s in the garage and it’s just too heavy for me to carry it,” Dustin says.

“Sure, sure,” Steve responds. “Are you sure you’ll be okay on your own?” he says as he turns to you.

“I’m sure. I’ll go ask Mrs. Henderson if she needs help with anything,” you smile reassuringly.

“Alright,” he says, giving you a small peck on the cheek before turning on his heel to follow Dustin.

Dustin opens the door to the garage, finding the rest of his friends sitting on the floor playing a boardgame.

“What are you guys doing here?” Steve questions.

“Dustin’s mom got mad at us for yelling while playing the game. She told us to either tone it down or come to the garage. So, we decided to come here instead,” Lucas shrugs. “What are you doing here? I thought you would be hanging out with the others,” he adds. Steve assumes that by the others he means Robin, Jonathan, Nancy, and you.

“I was, but Henderson over here wanted me to help him carry something that was apparently too heavy for him. Which is bullshit because I know for a fact he would rather struggle to carry something than ask for my help.”

With that, he turns to look at Dustin. “So what’s going on, dude?” he questions, brow arched in suspicion.

“When were you going to tell me that y/n hates hugs?” Dustin asks.

“What are you talking about? She loves hugs,” he says, surprise crossing his face.

“You know damn well what I’m talking about. It sure would’ve been better if you had told me before I hugged her today.”

Steve shoots him a quizzical look and asks, “I seriously have no clue what you’re talking about.”

“Everytime we hug her she either awkwardly stands very still with her arms pinned to her sides or just dodges the gesture altogether,” Max joins in, “I thought you knew that already.”

“You guys have no idea what you’re talking about,” Steve says.

“It’s true, last week when she helped me with my History homework, I tried to give her a hug but she just stook out her hand for a handshake instead,” Will reveals.

“And a few minutes ago she just stood very still and gave me a pat on the back while I gave her a hug,” Dustin adds.

“I think I would know if my girlfriend disliked physical touch,” Steve insists.

“You think we’re making it up? Fine, we’ll prove you wrong, Dingus,” Dustin fires back. He goes up to Mike and whispers something in his ear. Mike nods and turns to whisper the same thing in El’s ear.

“Let’s go,” Dustin says. The rest of the kids follow him, Steve trailing right behind them. They head to the living room, where you’re sitting on the couch reading your book.

“Hey, y/n,” Dustin greets you. You look from your novel, and smile at the kids.

“Hey,” you answer back.

“We just wanted to thank you for everything you have done for us. I mean, from helping us out with our English and History homework, to giving us rides to the arcade and helping decorate for my birthday party,” he continues.

“Yeah, and thanks for the relationship advice you gave us earlier this week,” Mike comments as he glances at El.

“There’s no need to thank me, I’m happy to help out however I can,” giving them a gentle smile.

“Can I give you a hug?” El asks shyly.

“Oh, uh, sure,” you mutter. You step forward in her direction and wrap your left arm around her shoulders for a brief second. When you step back, you give her a tight smile and put your hands in the pockets of your jacket.

“Are you okay, y/n?” Lucas asks.

“Of course,” you reply.

“Did I do something wrong? Was my hug that bad?” El asks you, a frown forming on her face.

“What? No, not at all. You’re a great hugger El” you quickly say.

“Or do you just don’t like us? Is that why you hate our hugs?” Dustin inquires, brows furrowed in worry.

“It’s not you guys, I promise. I’m just not that fond of physical touch,” you admit, an apologetic look on your face.

“What? All this time you’ve hated it and you couldn’t even tell me?” Steve asks, a hurtful look crossing his face.

“We’ll leave you two to talk,” Dustin says quietly. They all glance at each other in confusion, but Dustin nods towards the hallway that leads back to the garage. They exit the room, leaving the two of you in awkward silence.

“Does that mean that you’ve hated all of the kisses and hugs I’ve been giving you this entire time?” Steve asks, eyebrows lowered and pulled together.

You close the space that separates the two of you and bring your hands up to his face to softly cup his cheek.

“Baby, I’ve loved every single kiss and hug you have given me so far. Look, I know we’ve never discussed this, but physical touch doesn’t come easy to me. I mean, the kids just proved it,” you laugh humorlessly.

“My parents were never affectionate with me, so anything that involves touching other people makes me uncomfortable. I never thought that it would change, but then you came along and became my only exception,” you continue, “Trust me when I say that nothing makes me happier than feeling you close to me.”

“But why didn’t you say anything, dove?” he asks softly, tilting up your chin and cupping both of your cheeks. You take your hands off his face and hold his wrists instead, as if to keep his hands in place.

“It never came up. Plus, I didn’t want you to think that I hated your touch,” you answer in the same tone.

“I’m sorry for not saying anything,” you add.

“And I’m sorry for not noticing it sooner,” he responds.

“I guess we’re just two idiots in love, huh? Too blinded to see the obvious,” he chuckles.

“I guess we are,” you chuckle as well, standing on your toes to meet your lips with his.

—

Taglist: @shyawayfromme @untitledarea

For some reason I couldn’t tag most of the people that answered my google form taglist, just these two. Not sure why it’s happening but sorry!

#steve harrington x reader #steve harrington #steve harrington x you #steve harrington fluff #stranger things fanfiction #fanfic #eddie munson x reader #steve harrington angst #steve harrington x female reader #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington x reader fluff #steve harrington blurb #steve harrington one shot #steve harrington x reader fanfic #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington fanfic

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newyorkangelbaby · 2 months

Text

just putting it into the universe that a really good steve harrington x reader series idea would be like persephone!steve, hades!reader or vice versa but like the things i would do for someone to make this happen !!!

#steve harrington x you #steve harrington #steve harrington x henderson!reader #steve fic #steve harrington series #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington fanfiction #steve harrington x reader fanfic

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heytherejulietx · 2 years

Note

Could I request something like Steve protecting reader in a fight please (maybe with a monster since he's better in those fights)?

ty for the request my love! this is a different take on that scene in the creel house. i got a little carried away with this one again but i hope you like it!

tw - vol 2 spoilers, thoughts of death, injury, near death

1.2k words

@eddie-darling @amazingphanisnotonfire-imagines @80strashbag @ilikefruitgummies @d22malfoys @ninuffi @eldriidd @icarus-star @demigirl-with-problems @alexxavicry @simplymurdock @sydnee-writes @savagejane1 @vintageobx @katsukis1wife @pastel-abyss-x @levylovegood @mayyvh @mystickenz join my tag list

The air was cold, and she shuddered as she walked through the creepy house, her eyes glued to the floor to make sure that she didn’t step on any of the vines. The old Creel house had made her nervous the first time they visited, but it was a whole different type of terrifying in the Upside-Down. It saddened her to think of Will Byers, and that he had gotten stuck there when he was just so small. That kid was way braver than she ever could be.

“Hey,” she had been squeezing the circulation out of Steve’s hand ever since they entered the house, but he hadn’t seemed to mind. His words were whispered and she glanced up at him for a moment. “Where do you fancy, then – Enzo’s, that pizza place near my house, McDonald’s–”

“You want to take me on a date to McDonald’s?”

Steve was good at reading her; what she needed, how she felt, what she thought. And she supposed it was because he knew that she was scared, or simply because he really did want to, but ever since they had climbed back through the portal in Eddie’s trailer he had been planning to take her on a date when they got home. It was sweet, and whilst the nervousness of what they were doing left her chest tight and uncomfortable, Steve still managed to make her smile.

“Well, it might not be the most romantic place, but it’s still nice. I’ll even buy you a Happy Meal.”

“Wow, Harrington, no wonder you’re so popular with the ladies.” She giggled, and he grinned at her.

“Guys,” Nancy’s voice from in front of them was nervous, and the girl’s frown made her feel nauseous with worry. “You hear that?”

Before Nancy could elaborate, a rumble ran through the house before the entire thing began to shake. It felt like the floor was purposely trying to push them over, like a horse trying to get someone off of its back, and if it wasn’t for Steve’s tight grip on her hand she would have fallen backwards down the staircase that took them too long to climb. He yanked her forwards away from the edge, and in her movement her foot stepped on something squishy, but as she gripped onto Steve’s arm with both hands her one thought was that she couldn’t fall over.

All of them were holding onto each other by the time it had stopped. Both of her hands were a vice on Steve’s arm, he had his free hand on Robin’s shoulder, who had her fingers laced with Nancy’s. It took them all a moment to let go of each other, and even then everyone stayed silent, listening for any other hints at it happening again.

“Alright,” Steve finally spoke up, squeezing Robin’s shoulder since she looked like she was about to throw up. “Onwards and upwards?”

Something cold touched her ankle, and her stomach dropped as something wrapped itself around her ankle. Her eyes were wide as she looked down and watched the vine wrap itself around her leg, and she didn’t move in fear of making it worse.

“Steve?” She whispered his name, and by the time he looked at her the vine had stopped moving.

Her hand slipped from his when she was pulled off of her feet, and all of the breath was knocked out of her when she hit the floor. She barely had time to suck a breath back in when another vine snaked around her chest, and she was lifted back up and slammed against the wall with such force that the air was forced from her lungs once again. They were all over her, slimy ropes that pulled at her limbs, restricting her movement whilst they kept her pinned to the wall. She was going to die, she thought as she struggled to breathe in again, oh god she was going to die.

Everyone else was panicking. Through her tears she made out Nancy’s figure as she slammed the butt of her gun against one of the vines, Robin was trying to pull the vines away from her legs, and Steve had his axe raised before he swung it down on the vine closest to her head.

“Steve-” Her words were rasped out through the conscricting vine around her neck, and as the tightness grew and her breathing began to struggle, she panicked more. “I don’t- I don’t wanna die.”

His eyes were wide, like she had slapped him, and for a moment the most terrified look she had ever seen crossed his features. Steve slammed the axe down again, his eyebrows scrunched, and he shook his head. “You’re not going to die.” His voice was firm, like he would not be letting that happen.

The vines were so tight they hurt. Her wrists were burning at the restricted blood flow, her stomach hurt with the pressure, and her throat was on fire from the lack of air. Her last struggled breaths were wheezed in and the heartbeat in her ears almost drowned out everyone else's panicking.

“Nancy!” She barely made out Steve’s panicked words. “You see that there? On my signal, shoot.”

Steve held the axe above his shoulder, and it was the last thing she saw before her eyes squeezed shut. She was growing lightheaded, and the panic was too much whilst watching them as well.

“Now!”

The gunshot was louder than she had anticipated, and it sent a rumble through the wall against her back whilst the axe cut through something on her other side. And thankfully the vines started loosening their hold on her. The one around her neck recoiled first, and she was left gasping for breath as the rest of the vines followed. The one around her stomach was last, and it dropped her from the wall, only to land on Steve, sending them both to the floor.

“Y/N!” His hands were on her cheeks as she spluttered for breath, leant over her as his knees pressed into her back. “Hey, hey talk to me! Are you okay?”

His face was a little blurry through her tears, and by that point she was half breathing in and half crying, but she took one of his wrists with her trembling hand and nodded.

“I’m okay, I’m okay.” She rushed out, and the latter half of her sentence was muffled by Steve’s jacket when he leaned down to hug her.

His palm worked its way against her upper back between her shoulder blades and anchored her to his chest, cradling her like she was a baby, and in the midst of her tears and aching everything it was exactly what she needed.

“Don’t ever do that again,” he mumbled into her hair, where he left a countless amount of kisses. “Okay? Shit, you scared the life out of me.”

“I’m okay,” she assured again, and sighed into his collar as she shut his eyes. “Promise.”

She knew that they still needed to finish what they came to do, but she allowed herself that one moment in his arms to feel better. She took in another deep breath and sighed, safe all the while she was encased in his arms.

#steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington x fem!reader #steve harrington x reader fanfic #steve harrington x reader blurb #steve harrington fic #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington imagines #steve harrington imagine #stranger things #stranger things imagines #stranger things imagine

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dearharriet · 3 months

Text

American Honey; Steve Harrington ⛱️

summary: it’s summer, and you’re in love with your boyfriend, steve.

word count: 2K

warnings: implied fem!r, drinking, lots of pet names (honey, baby, pretty, beautiful), lord of the rings references (+ fellowship spoilers!!), tickling, suggestive language

authors note: rly missing summer after writing this one 😭 also I made a mental yarn map between st and lotr while writing this that i can’t unmake I fear

Steve Harrington is an American Treasure.

Fresh out of the pool, he strides toward you, a limber hand reaching out for the beer he entrusted you with. It made you feel special, and Steve certainly entertained the notion. He’s always calling you sweet things—baby, pretty, beautiful, or your favorite—

“Honey.” His shining body is enveloped in shade as he steps under the umbrella you’re using.

He’s an American treasure. Patriotic the way that Colonel Sanders or Bruce Springsteen are. Spangled with freckles and moles like stars, stripes of hot skin on display. Red-shouldered from the sun, blue-lipped from a rocket ice pop, but his teeth remain pearly white.

“Thank you,” he murmurs, his warm fingers dampening yours as you hand the can off to him.

“‘Course,” you reply, breathless.

“You sure you won’t swim with me?”

You liked that. He never pretended he had the interest of the whole group in mind. Steve wanted you all for himself, and he wasn’t shy about it.

Smiling up at him, you shake your head.

“I don’t wanna get burnt,” you say. “And anyways, who’s gonna look after your drink if I get in?”

Steve steps closer to pet your hair. It’s a little awkward with his hands still being wet, but you accept it nonetheless.

“Lucky for you, I don’t really care about the drink. I only asked you to hold it ‘cause you’re the prettiest thing I’ve ever seen.”

A smile creeps onto your face, which has turned red—sunblock be damned.

That’s another thing you like about Steve. He’s not really coaxing you into the pool. He knows you burn easy, and further, he’s trying his hardest not to touch your face. He’d watched you meticulously rub sunscreen over it just thirty minutes ago, and he’s sweet enough to remember now.

Worst of all, he knows your anxiety about burning stretches beyond just you, so he ordered the kids to sunscreen up just to put you at ease. It has you thinking undeniably fond, hungry, and binding things about him.

Steve is none the wiser, setting his beer down and rubbing a pruny palm down his chest.

“Could you get my shoulders again, babe? Think the chlorine washed it all off.”

You both know damn well it didn’t, but neither complains as Steve perches himself on the edge of your lounger and you rub sunblock into his broad shoulders.

It’s hard not to love everything about him. Not that you’re trying to stop, but you haven’t admitted to it yet, so maybe you are. Everything is terribly simple and domestic with Steve, easily imaginable as a forever kind of thing, and you’re desperately trying not to jump the gun.

What’s stuck with you time and again—like now—is your contentment in committing unselfish acts, as long as Steve is happy. Everything you do for him is sublimely fulfilling, and you can’t help but imagine that he thinks the same about you. Why else would he happily swim alone and bake away in layers of sunblock, if not because you’re happy first?

Feeling intimidated by all of the commotion around, you amalgamate all of these big feelings into a subdued kiss on Steve’s sticky shoulder. Your lips come away tangy with sunblock, but it’s worth it.

Taking it as a sign that you’re done, Steve turns around and gives you exactly what you want, leaning over your bare legs to kiss your waiting mouth. You think it’s a thank-you kiss, but then he’s leaning in for another, and another, his hand holding steady to your ankle.

When he pulls away he’s like a concentrated UV beam. His shoulder is hot where you draw shapes into it.

“Y’still having fun? We could go inside.”

Your legs press together.

“I know why you want to go inside,” you tease, poking his cheek, “and it’s going to have to wait.”

“Who says,” he challenges, pouting, “s’my house.”

Your eyes leave his face to watch the action in the pool. The kids are reenacting a Tolkien-related battle very loudly and dramatically, with Eddie as Aragorn.

“Everyone is here,” you remind him, nodding at the pool just as Will flays an imaginary Orc. Steve doesn’t even glance behind himself.

“So?” He mumbles, kissing your bottom lip. “I’ll tell them to leave.”

He’s so hard to resist like this, all gushy and lovesick. You push your fingers into the hair at his neck to pull him away and he hums happily.

“You’re terrible,” you chide, but you’re smiling, anyhow.

“Is it a crime to love your girlfriend?” A shock zips through you, but Steve doesn’t seem to notice what he's admitted.

“Steve!” Lucas—who is using his recent growth spurt to play Legolas—calls over, saving you from responding.

“Stop sucking face and get over here! It’s time for you to die.”

“Uh-oh,” you laugh, patting Steve on the back. “Sounds serious.”

“How come they always make me play Boring-mir,” he complains, turning back to you. He doesn’t seem very motivated to get up at all, practically lazing beside your legs despite the gang of nerds waiting on him.

“He’s not so bad, from what I’ve read,” you argue, glancing at the closed book by your side. “Though I think they should let you take a crack at Aragorn.”

Grinning, Steve stretches up to kiss you.

“Honey, I think you’re the only one who believes in me,” he whispers sarcastically, and then presses in again.

“Steve!”The kids all throw their hands up. Eddie continues to swing a pool noodle like a sword.

“Coming!” Steve gives you the kiss they interrupted, though it's missing the sensuality it began with. “Jesus, you guys, you see what I’m leaving behind?” Steve gestures to you, and you swat at his arm.

“Steve, stop.”

“No! It’s an impossible task,” he declares, arms out, loud enough so the kids can still hear him. Then, quieter, “you’re too damn gorgeous, gorgeous.”

“Resist temptation, brother,” Eddie calls. “The power of the ring cannot be wielded!”

Steve waves him off as he gives you one final, lingering kiss. Then he's up, trekking back into the sun.

“Don’t think you’ll kill me so easily this time, brats. I’m fighting for Mordor!”

“You’re fighting for Gondor, thick head,” Dustin snips, but screeches when Steve tackles him.

Smiling from your shady oasis, you leave your book forgotten at your side. Steve puts on a good show, taking imaginary hits for Merry-Erica and Pip-Dustin, cutting off forgotten lines with groans and tears.

You shake your head ruefully as the kids cheer and applaud his passing, not sure they understand the sacrifice made. Steve just smiles and bows, and you think maybe he doesn’t, either.

When he finally slumps down next to you again—dripping and warm and happy to be discharged—you curl into him and throw your legs between his.

“Tired?” You lean your head against the springy elastic slats and look at him softly. He nods and pulls you closer, his free hand and his thigh working together to open a new can of beer. He takes a swig and hands it to you.

“I don’t know how they can keep going. I feel like I need an IV.”

You laugh around the rim of the can.

“Maybe I can get you a glass of water, then, and keep this to myself.” You swirl the heavy can in front of him. Steve shakes his head.

“You wouldn’t dare. Beer is, like, basically water, I’m pretty sure.” You raise a skeptical brow, but hand it back to him. “It is! It’s sterile, baby.”

“I love it when you talk sexy.”

Steve throws his head back laughing, nearly dumping the can into both of your laps. You never take your eyes off of him, chest light with the high of encouraging a sound so sweet.

“Where did you even hear that?” You trace his collarbone as you ask, and then his adams apple. Steve’s eyes are still squeezed shut as he attempts to talk through his giggling.

“E—hedd—d-iehee.”

Surely it wasn’t that funny, you think, watching him go red in the face. He’s working himself up more than anything, now. You don’t care. You add fuel to the fire, pinching under his ribs to watch him squirm and howl.

Steve practically throws the can onto the ground, writhing away from your menacing fingers.

“Baby—stop!” You’re laughing with him now, infected by his hiccuping voice. “Honey—honey, please——time-out, time-out!”

You stop, and he snags your hand to hold it away from him. Panting, Steve twists around to pin you on the chair, his free hand creeping towards your bare side.

“Payback…,” he whispers threateningly.

“No…Steve—“It’s too late, Steve’s hands are already working into your sides cruelly, and his mouth is blowing raspberries into your neck. You kick your feet wildly, pushing at his shoulder with your connected hands.

At your shrieking, everyone looks over, faces forming into a hash of reactions. Surprisingly—or unsurprisingly—no one intervenes. The boys boo at you, but it’s only as long-lived as the tickling itself.

“Sto-ho-ho-hoppp—“ you plead, and Steve yields, a satisfied smile on his face.

When you finally relax back into the chair again, chest rising and falling rapidly, Steve takes your hand into his and holds it over his torso.

“Hate you,” he puffs out, and then picks up the beer that started it all.

“Hmph,” you complain, and hold your hand out until he passes it over.

“I love you.”

You’re aiming for casual, but you miss the mark obscenely. It sticks in your throat and you end up saying every letter.

Steve is eerily silent, watching as you take a nervous gulp of PBR. When you try to pass it back, his receiving hand floats up to your face to wipe over your bottom lip instead.

“What was that?” It’s not a question so much as an encouragement, a request. You can’t even look him in the eyes, curling into his shoulder shamefully.

“Please don’t laugh,” you whine, mortified. How had he made it look so easy?

Steve snakes an arm behind you and rubs your back comfortingly.

“‘M’not, honey. Just wanna make sure I heard you right.”

“You heard me,” you confirm grumpily.

He hums a warm laugh.

Smushing your face into his bicep, you laugh, too. Like magic, the ease flows through your body again, as if it never left. Like the water in the pool, your conversations always slip and slide from childish to heart-pounding and back again. So far, the scariest parts of being with Steve have been the anxieties you invented along the way, and he’s never been unprepared for them.

Propping your chin on his peck, you cuddle closer to him, the warm day slipping into evening chill. Steve waits, patient as a Saint, fiddling with your hair and your top and your mind.

“You knew, didn’t you,” you whisper, rubbing the back of his hand with your thumb. The near-empty can is still wedged between your bodies, cool against your ribs.

“Sure,” Steve admits. “But thinking it and saying it are different things.”

“True.” You swallow. “Were you waiting on me?”

“Mm, I guess.” He shrugs. “I know it doesn’t change anything if you don’t, but I think I wanted to hear you say it back. Yknow, when I told you.”

Nodding, you kiss the closest patch of skin you can find. Steve continues.

“And then I realized I’d never know if you’d say it back, so I thought I’d wait for you to say it first, which is dumb—“

“S’not dumb,” you assure him, “that’s what I was doing, too.”

Locking eyes, you both peel into laughter at the same time.

“That’s why it’s dumb,” Steve emphasizes. You crawl closer still, giving him the can to put down so you can close the last gap between your bodies. Steve sighs as your nose presses into his neck. “What am I gonna do with you, honey?”

“Terrible, awful, horrible things, I hope.”

You can feel him smiling, sense it.

“Nuh-uh, we’re in love now. Only love-making from here on out.”

You look out towards the pool, at the kids drying off and getting hungry.

You could hardly wait.

thank you for reading! 🦢

masterlist

#steve harrington #stranger things #steve harrington blurb #steve harrington fic #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington x fem #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x reader fanfic #steve harrington x you #steve harrington fluff

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worth-the-chaos · 4 months

Text

Adventures in Babysitting - Steve Harrington x female!reader - Chapter 4

Chapter Summary: Looking for Dart isn’t easy, but it gives you and Steve a lot of time to have a heart to heart, as you slowly start to realize your feelings for one another.

Content Warning: fluff, mutual pining, slow burn, upside down scary shit, boys being stupid

Word Count: 6.5k

Author’s Note: This part sticks closely to the original series, but there will be a lot more originality in the next part! I know it probably isn’t super fun to read what you’ve watched on the show, but for me this has been the ultimate rewatch fic writing experience, which I have greatly enjoyed, so if you’re looking to reminisce about stranger things, boy is this the fic for you ;)

Series Masterlist | Part 3 | Next Part

***

Steve woke up first, and nearly panicked when he realized that you were curled up in his arms, pressed flush against his chest. At some point in the night, you both must have rolled over to face each other, and now his arms were wrapped around your waist, one hand dangerously close to your ass and one of his legs rested in between yours. He wasn’t sure what to do and his mind was screaming at him to move before you could wake up and see the compromising position the two of you were in, but his heart was screaming at him to stay.

He pulled away slightly to look at you, his heart beating wildly in his chest. The worry lines that were usually etched into your features were gone, and it was the first time he could think of that you truly looked at peace. You were stunning, there was no question about it. I could get used to this, Steve thought, but then quickly pushed it aside. He felt guilty; he wasn’t even sure if Nancy and him were actually officially broken up and he was already starting to feel things for someone else. Though if he was really being honest with himself, he’d been feeling this way about you for a while.

He carefully untangled himself from you, cursing himself for not holding onto you for just a little bit longer, but he knew that it was the right thing to do. The last thing he wanted to do was make you uncomfortable, so he slipped out of bed and quietly exited the room, making his way down to the kitchen.

You groaned when you finally woke up, light filtering in through the window. The bed was empty, and you tried to push aside your disappointment as you checked the clock on Steve’s beside table. It was 8:00 which meant you had a couple of hours before Steve and you had to leave to pick up Dustin. You wanted to roll over and go back to sleep, unready to face the tribulations that inevitably lied ahead. Knowing that wasn’t an option, you got out of bed.

Upon turning the corner into the massive kitchen, you were met with the sight of a pajama clad Steve Harrington, standing over the kitchen stove while he cooked pancakes. He turned once he heard your footsteps and saw you, your eyes still sleepy as you drowned in his clothes that were way too big for you. He felt his face heat up at the sight of you, but if you asked, he would blame it on the hot stove.

“Pancake?” He asked, the one on the pan finally done cooking. You simply nodded and he plated it and walked towards the kitchen table, setting it down at a seat before pulling your chair out for you.

“I’m honestly surprised that you know how to cook anything,” you teased. It was pretty baffling to see the boy who had previously been a complete ass standing in a kitchen making pancakes with the most wild case of bedhead you’d ever seen. “Or that you’re cooking at all considering the day we have ahead of us,” you added, mind beginning to focus on the more important things.

“Well, my parents are gone most of the time so I have to fend for myself a lot. Which, you know, sucks, but it also means I kinda can do whatever the hell I want, so I guess it balances itself out, doesn’t it?” Steve took the seat across from you, sitting down with his own pancake.

“I guess,” you agreed. You both ate your breakfast quietly, trying not to think about how domestic all of this was. I’m supposed to be thinking about the damn demogorgon, not playing house with Steve, you thought, annoyed with yourself for enjoying this all a little too much. “I don’t know what I’m supposed to wear today,” you spoke up, interrupting the blissful quiet of the meal you were sharing.

“What do you mean?”

“Well, if I wear my clothes from yesterday, Dustin’s going to make…assumptions. And I certainly can’t wear these,” you added, giggling and flailing your arms to demonstrate how long the sleeves were, “but I also can’t go home to change because my parents aren’t going to let me leave so easy when they find out I didn’t come home last night and now some boy they don’t know is dropping me off for a pit stop.”

Steve was quiet for a bit as he contemplated all of this. “Well, for starters,” he said through a mouthful of pancakes, “I think you look fabulous, but I can see how in a defensive situation, the miles of extra fabric would not be the best. You can raid my mom’s closet? She might have some stuff that fits you better? She also has a shit ton of stuff she definitely doesn’t wear anymore,” He offered. You felt weird about it, but given it was basically your only option, you nodded in agreement.

Steve brought you into his parents’ room, pointing out the clothes he knew his mom wouldn’t miss. You settled on a pair of jeans, a white turtleneck, and a beige windbreaker. Simple enough. You swiftly changed in the bathroom and took a look at yourself in the mirror. These clothes were definitely nicer and more expensive than the ones you normally wore. You felt good in them, and they fit your body nicely, much more well tailored than your thrifted outfits. You put your hair into a low ponytail and shook out your arms, bouncing from foot to foot trying to psych yourself up for this. At least if I die today, I’ll die wearing nicer clothes.

You and Steve loaded his trunk with things you might need: the nail bat, a few knives, a golf club, a can of gasoline, as well as a few buckets full of raw meat. If you were going to catch this thing, you were going to have to bait it.

***

“So, what are the odds you think we’re really going to find this thing?” Steve asked as the two of you drove towards Dustin’s house. To be completely honest, he thought that this attempt was most likely futile. Hawkins was small, but not that small. Hell, by now it might not even be in Hawkins anymore.

“I’d say slim to none. But we still have to try. I can’t in good conscience not find it. I don’t think I’d ever be able to sleep again if I knew it was just out there, roaming Hawkins,” you shuddered, squeezing your eyes shut.

“Yeah, I don’t sleep too well anymore. Not after last year,” Steve admitted. He hated being vulnerable, but it didn’t feel so bad when he was being that way around you.

“I know what you mean. The amount of nightmares I’ve had about that…that thing is just truly astounding” you sighed, giving Steve an empathetic look.

Steve didn’t have the heart to tell you that his nightmares weren’t scary because he was face to face with the demogorgon. They were terrifying because they always ended with you getting hurt. Every single one of them was just the two of you in that damn living room, but this time he didn’t have the bat. It was just you, pinned to the floor helpless, and him unable to move. Unable to save you.

“Yep,” he replied instead, “I didn’t have any last night though.” It wasn’t a lie, and he felt his heart race as he said it. Admitting that seemed risky, but at this point he didn’t care. With the amount of shit you both always seemed to be in, holding things back seemed riskier.

“Me neither,” you added, voice quiet but sincere.

It wasn’t long before you pulled up to the Henderson household, Dustin hurrying towards the car. He quickly got in the backseat, clearly eager to get this all over with. You couldn’t really blame him, as you felt the exact same way.

“We have shit in the back of the car so we don’t need to stop for supplies. Where are we going first?” You cut right to the chase.

“I was thinking we could walk the train tracks. It’ll be easier to cover more ground that way, and it’s secluded enough that we won’t look batshit crazy,” Dustin replied. Honestly, you had to give the boy credit, he was pretty damn smart. Steve began to pull away, headed towards the park. He knew one of the hiking trails ran parallel to the train tracks and you’d only have to deviate from it slightly in order to reach them.

“Why didn’t you pick me up first?” Dustin suddenly asked.

“What?” Steve replied.

“I said, why didn’t you pick me up first? My house is between yours and y/n’s. It doesn’t make sense.”

“Does it matter?” Steve returned his question with a question, gripping the steering wheel tighter as his shoulders tensed. You cleared your throat and looked out the window, avoiding eye contact at all costs. Your body language gave you both away, and Steve could see Dustin’s eyes light up in the rearview mirror as he connected the dots.

“Woah! Wait a minute. You didn’t have to pick her up because she stayed at your house!” Dustin exclaimed, letting out a laugh and feeling like a genius.

“You don’t know what the hell you’re talking about,” Steve shot back, clearly angry. You buried your face in the palm of your hand. If Steve just wouldn’t react so huge, then Dustin might second guess himself, but no, that was too complex a reaction for the boy to ever consider.

“You’re lying! Haha! I knew it!” Dustin yelled out, pointing at your look of defeat. Maybe I could have reacted a bit differently too, you thought sheepishly, flashing Steve a look that said “I’m sorry.”

“Dustin, would you just kindly shut the fuck up,” Steve fumed, trying to pay attention to the road.

“Wait a minute, did you guys have sex?”

“NO!” You both shouted in unison, and Steve slammed on the breaks, the inertia causing your seatbelt to lock as you all jolted forward. Steve very aggressively put the car in park and whipped around, putting his left hand on the back of your seat to fully twist his body towards the boy in the backseat.

“Listen here, dipshit. It wasn’t fucking like that, she slept in the guest bedroom because I didn’t feel good about leaving her home alone while your little science experiment is running all over this goddamn town. Ask one more question about it, and I swear you’ll have bigger concerns than this Upside Down bullshit,” Steve threatened. Dustin put his hands up, signaling that he would back off, and Steve nodded as he turned back around, taking a deep breath, and putting the car back in drive.

You were a little shocked by his outburst. The old Steve would have bragged about the fact that you had shared a bed with him, so you were a bit surprised that he lied, placing you in the guest room in his explanation to Dustin. Maybe he was embarrassed about it, you thought as your heart sank a little in your chest.

You finally made it to the park, Steve parking haphazardly by a trailhead as you all exited the BMW. You handed each boy a pair of rubber gloves from your backpack, slipping a pair on yourself before passing the boys each a bucket of raw meat. Steve threw on his backpack, nail bat sticking out of it. Your backpack looked similar, but packed with a golf club instead. You also had found a hunting knife that belonged to Mr. Harrington as you both had scoured the house for anything that was or could be turned into a weapon, and it sat sheathed on your right hip underneath your windbreaker.

Suddenly, Lucas’ voice was ringing out from Dustin’s walkie talkie, “Dustin! This is Lucas, do you copy? Dustin!”

“Well, well, well, look who it is?”

“Sorry, man, my sister turned it off.”

“Well, when you were having sister problems, Dart grew again, he escaped, and I’m pretty sure he’s a baby demogorgon,” Dustin fumed.

“Wait, what?”

“I’ll explain later, just meet me, Steve, and y/n at the old junkyard,” Dustin informed him.

“Steve?!”

“And bring your binoculars and wrist rocket.”

“Steve Harrington?!” Lucas emphasized his question again, still clearly in disbelief that Dustin was hanging out with that asshole. You couldn’t help but laugh. Steve rolled his eyes.

“Alright, let’s go,” he chimed in, ready for Dustin to end his dumb conversation with his friend. Why can’t Lucas be confused as to why y/n’s here too? Why does it always have to be me?

“Just be there, stat! Over and out,” Dustin ended the discussion, putting the walkie talkie back in his pocket.

It took a second for you to finally find the train tracks, having to hike about a mile and a half before you actually were able to see them. You were glad it was still early on a Sunday, so no one was out hiking to see the three kids who definitely looked like they did not hang out together on a regular basis with bright yellow gloves and bait buckets. There were some questions you just couldn’t answer.

So there the three of you were, walking the train tracks and dropping small chucks of raw meat behind you like sailors chumming the water for sharks. You tried not to think about it as the three of you made conversation to pass the time, beginning with you forcing Dustin to explain himself.

“Alright, so let me get this straight,” Steve spoke up after his explanation, “you kept something that you knew was probably dangerous in order to impress a girl…who you just met?”

“Okay, that is grossly oversimplifying things,” Dustin replied. You were walking in a line, Dustin leading, Steve in the middle, and you taking up the rear. You were glad that this arrangement allowed you to emote freely, the boys unable to see you.

“Why would a girl like some nasty slug anyway?” You chimed in, speaking on behalf of females across the globe who weren’t looking for boys to sweep them off their feet by showing them some trashcan residing tadpole that likes nougat.

“An inter dimensional slug? Because it’s awesome, duh. And I’m a little disappointed that you wouldn’t be excited about that y/n, considering you’re like a complete nerd.”

You scoffed in disbelief. “I’m not a complete nerd.”

“Uh yeah. You are. You’ve babysat me for a whole year now and all you do is homework. Even over the summer. I’m not even that nerdy!” Dustin exclaimed.

“I mean, the kid’s got a point y/n. I don’t think I’ve ever seen you have fun…like ever,” Steve added. You gaped at him, unable to believe that he would take Henderson’s side. These motherfuckers were ganging up on you, and you wouldn’t have that.

“That is so not true! I went to that dumbass party you invited me to,” you reminded him. Dustin’s ears perked up at this, as he slowly turned, looking past Steve and narrowing his eyes at you. So Steve had been the one that invited you to the Halloween party. You realized your slip up and gave Dustin a look that you hoped was threatening enough for him to keep his mouth shut.

“Anyway, regardless of whether or not she thought it was cool—which she didn’t—I just…I don’t know, I just think you’re trying way too hard,” Steve refocused the conversation, not digging the obvious but silent argument the two of you were having that he was not privy to.

“Well, not everyone can have your perfect hair, Steve,” Dustin grumbled.

“It’s not about the hair man. The key with girls is just…just acting like you don’t care.”

“Even if you do?”

“Yeah, exactly, it drives them nuts,” Steve replied as if it was the simplest thing in the world. You slowed down your strides. Steve continued to make it abundantly clear to you that he cared…like a whole hell of a lot. In some ways, you were starting to confuse all of this for interest, but maybe you were wrong; maybe he did truly just want to be friends. You bent down and retied your shoes trying to put some distance between you and the boys, not wanting them to see how let down you felt. The boys noticed, and started to slow their steps, but you shooed them ahead, letting them know you’d be fine. Steve hesitantly obliged, following Dustin who had already started back down the tracks.

“Then what?” Dustin asked.

“Then you just wait until—“ Steve turned making sure you were out of earshot, not quite wanting you to hear him talk about how he used to pick up women. “Uh, until you feel it,” Steve finished.

“Feel what?” Geez, did this kid ever stop asking fucking questions.

“It’s like before it’s gonna storm, you know? You can’t see it but you can feel it, like this uh…electricity, you know?” Steve searched for the right words to explain it to Dustin. He figured a metaphor would be better, just in case you came within earshot again.

“Oh, like in the electromagnetic field when the clouds in the atmosphere—“

“No, no, no, no, no, like a…like a sexual electricity,” Steve connected the dots for him, “you feel that, and then you make your move.”

“So that’s when you kiss her?” Dustin asked innocently.

“No, woah, woah whoa! Slow down, Romeo…sure, okay, some girls want you to be aggressive right away, strong, hot and heavy, I don’t know, like…like a lion,” he continued to speak in metaphors, “but others you gotta be slow, stealth, like a…like a ninja.”

“What type is y/n,” Dustin asked.

Steve was thrown off by the question, but answered it anyway, “y/n’s different. She’s different than the other girls,” Steve said quietly as he looked over his shoulder, you were still trailing several paces behind, and for once he was glad. He didn’t usually like it when you were out of his sight…it was too dangerous, but right now it was nice to speak freely.

“Yeah, she is pretty special I guess,” Dustin agreed. Not many girls would have fought like hell for some random kid they babysat. You were probably one of the coolest people he knew…even if you did do a lot of homework.

“Yeah. Yeah, she is,” Steve sighed, still unsure of what the hell he was supposed to do about that. His love life was a complete shit show, but he was hoping that maybe by the end of all of this it wouldn’t be.

“But that’s the thing…this girl is special too, you know? It’s just like...something about her.”

“Woah, woah, woah. You’re not falling in love with this girl are you?” Steve asked, judgment and concern painted across his features.

“You’re not falling in love with y/n, are you?” Dustin shot back.

“Touché,” Steve replied. He looked back at you again. You had bent down to clear a branch out of the tracks, tossing it aside. Standing up and brushing your hair out of your face with your forearm, avoiding touching your skin with the rubber glove. “Well, don’t. She’ll just go breaking your heart and you’re way too young for that shit,” he added, turning away from you. Dustin hung his head down, and Steve remembered what it was like to be that age. He was never unpopular like Dustin was, but he remembered how awkward it was to be in middle school.

He sighed. “Fabergé organics,” he said pointing to his hair, “use the shampoo and the conditioner and when its damp—not wet, okay, damp—you do four puffs of the Farrah Fawcett spray.”

“Farrah Fawcett spray?” Dustin asked, trying and failing to hold back his laughter.

“Yeah, Farrah Fawcett. You tell anyone that I told you that and your ass is grass, you’re dead Henderson. You understand that?” Steve stopped, pointing a gloved finger in Dustin’s face.

“Are you threatening my kid?” The boys turned as you shouted, watching you jog towards them to catch up.

“Yes, yes I was,” Steve owned it, selling the threat, while Dustin stared a little wide eyed at him, gulping before nodding in agreement. You continued on, but you slowed a bit as you noticed a yellow flag sticking out on the side of the trail, marking a tree that’s trunk was black with rot. You felt a sinking feeling in your stomach, as you’d never seen anything quite like it…and someone was keeping tabs on it too, which was equally, if not more unsettling.

“Y/n? Are you coming?” Dustin asked, the impatience of his age showing.

“Uh, yeah. Sorry,” you muttered, shaking away the thought as you caught up with the boys.

***

You made it to the junkyard, each of you pouring the remaining chunks of raw meat in a pile in a clearing.

“I said medium-well!” You heard Lucas yell, turning to see him and a red headed girl headed your direction. You recognized her, and you kept trying to wrack your brain for how but you kept coming up empty. Dustin pulled Lucas aside to talk, so you decided to introduce yourself.

“Well, I’m y/n. It’s nice to meet you. I wish it were under better circumstances,” you told her, extending your hand towards her. She took it and smiled.

“I’m Max.”

“So, how much do you know about all of this shit?” Steve asked and you rolled your eyes.

“This is Steve,” you added, not wanting to be entirely rude to the poor girl. Realization flashed across his face as he lifted his hand in a half wave, not really in the mood for introductions. The world was basically ending, did it really matter if you all knew each other?

Max waved back, pressing her lips into a thin line, clearly also unimpressed by Steve. You couldn’t imagine how she was putting up with Dustin and his friends all this time, but then again, you had spent the last twenty-four hours with Steve Harrington, so you really couldn’t judge. “I know pretty much everything,” Max answered your previous question, though you could tell she didn’t really buy it. You weren’t going to try to convince her. Hell, you wished you didn’t believe it either.

“Well, we should probably start prepping for some serious shit,” you spoke up, starting to lift up a piece sheet metal and turning to carry it towards a broken down old bus. Steve knew that had to be heavy as hell, and if he was being honest, watching you carry it was kind of hot. He shook the thought from his head as you returned to help Max carry another piece. He turned to make his way towards the boys who were doing nothing to help whatsoever.

While you and Max carried the sheet metal, you finally realized where you knew her from, “hey, you’re Billy’s sister, right?” You remembered her from the car. She had to walk all the way down to the middle school because Billy was a lazy piece of shit.

“Step sister, but to answer your question, yeah, unfortunately,” she rolled her eyes.

“Well, I wouldn’t tell Steve that because he definitely is not a fan of your brother,” you chuckled.

“Join the club,” she sighed as you set the scrap down. You heard a loud bang as you turned to see Steve banging a metal chair against a car to get the younger boys’ attention.

“Hey! Dickheads! How come the only ones helping me out are y/n and this random girl?”

You and Max looked at each other and you burst out laughing. You apologized that Steve had referred to you as “this random girl,” as you moved to grab more and more materials to set up your impromptu shelter. Steve and the boys continued to grab sheet metal and you began pouring gasoline all over the clearing. Fire had worked pretty damn good the last time, so you were banking on it working again, hoping that it was enough.

You had fortified the entire bus with sheet metal, wiping the sweat beading on your forehead after you and Steve placed the last piece. The kids were all piling onto the dilapidated vehicle and you were about ready to join them when Steve grabbed your elbow for you to wait.

“What?” You asked, not quite sure why he had stopped you.

“Are you sure you’re going to be okay if this thing shows up?” He asked, scanning your face trying to read your expression as if it would reveal some sort of fundamental truths about the universe to him.

“Yeah, I’ll be fine,” you shook free of his grasp, somewhat annoyed with him. If him showing he cared meant that he wasn’t interested, you weren’t interested in hearing it.

“What’s the matter? What did I do?” Steve was confused and a bit hurt too. Through all of this you had gotten along so well, and now was not the time for your friendship to be on the fritz.

You sighed, not quite sure how to explain yourself. You knew you were being unreasonable, but you just didn’t have the energy to care right now. “It’s just…I don’t know, I just wish you didn’t care so much about me sometimes. I didn’t matter to you at all a year ago, so it’s just a lot sometimes to have you worried about me all the damn time, whether it’s some guy hitting on me or this shit. I can take care of myself, I’m not fucking weak, okay?” You grumbled.

“That’s not fair, y/n, and I think you know it. And I wish I wouldn’t have been so stuck up and that we could’ve been friends sooner. And yeah, believe me, I fucking know you can handle yourself, but now that we are friends, I kind of am partial to having you around and if that means yelling at sketchy douchebags like Billy and knocking some inter dimensional fucker into next week, I’ll be damned if I let you stop me,” Steve emphasized. You could hear the annoyance in his voice, but you could also hear the desperation. Steve didn’t say it, but his heart just wanted him to scream let me take care of you…in every damn way there was.

“I know, but Steve the reality of the situation is that we’re in deep fucking shit, and either of us could get ripped to shreds or incapacitated by that thing at any moment, so I need to know that I can be okay without you.”

It was hard to admit it and your voice wavered a bit, but it was true. Something in Steve clicked when you said it and he finally understood why you were so hellbent on fending for yourself. Suddenly, Steve stepped forward and put his arms around you, pulling you into a hug. He buried his head in the crook of your neck, needing to just hold onto you for a second.

You weren’t expecting the hug, but it was more than welcome nonetheless. You didn’t really know how you were supposed to react, but you felt your hands instinctively go up to run your fingers through his hair. You spent a minute like that before pulling away, Steve taking a step back again and clearing his throat.

“Sorry, it’s just I think I push the idea that we might not come back from this out of my head sometimes. I don’t want to have any regrets if this all goes to shit,” he said. What he wanted to say was I want the chance to hold you, just in case.

You nodded and the two of you entered the bus. If the kids heard your conversation, they didn’t say anything, as you and Steve joined them on the floor.

Now it was just a waiting game. Your hand went to the blade at your hip, your fingers running over the leather of the holster. You were ready.

***

Lucas had vacated the bus, instead choosing to sit on the roof to operate as look out. You wished you would have volunteered because sitting and waiting inside this damn thing had become near excruciating. Steve kept flicking his lighter on and off, and you glared at him in the dark, hoping that it would have enough fluid left for when you really needed it.

“So…you really fought one of these things before?” Max spoke up and asked. Steve nodded, continuing to mess with the lighter.

“…and you’re, like, totally 100% sure it wasn’t a bear?”

“Shit. Don’t be an idiot. Okay? It wasn’t a bear. Why are you even here if you don’t believe us? Just go home.” Dustin fumed.

“Geez, someone’s cranky. Past your bedtime?” Max shot back, crossing her arms.

“Dustin!” You scolded. He rolled his eyes and turned away from you, and you decided to give up on trying to get him to play nice. “I’m definitely sure it wasn’t a bear. I’ve even got the scars to prove it,” you tried to go back to Max’s original question, believing that she deserved a kindly worded answer.

“Yeah, she almost died. Still think it was a fucking bear?” Dustin grumbled from his seat, still refusing to face the rest of you. You rolled your eyes and shook your head, trying to make it clear to Max that you thought he was being ridiculous.

“Here, I’ll show you.” You took off the windbreaker, and slipped your arm out of your turtleneck sleeve. Steve went to avert his eyes as a large part of your chest and torso was now on display, but he stopped in his tracks when his eyes caught your upper arm. He had never actually seen the wounds, just your blood-soaked sleeve and then the bandage, and since, you had avoided wearing anything that showed your upper arm. It was littered with scars and his breath hitched in his throat. He left that fight without a scratch on him. Well, other than the ones he already had from his scuffle with Jonathan. He couldn’t imagine what it was like to have that permanent of a reminder.

Dustin cleared his throat loudly and kicked Steve in the leg, signaling at him that he should probably look away before you noticed him staring. Steve quickly obliged, becoming very fascinated with a spot on the floor while you covered back up.

“That’s fucking crazy,” Max breathed out, “why the hell are you guys here if you almost died last time you had to deal with this thing?”

“Because who else would?” You replied as if it was simple. This was now your burden to bear, and you felt a pang in your chest as you realized that it was now Max’s as well.

With that, she nodded, moving to the ladder to join Lucas on the roof. Dustin scoffed and muttered another insult as she disappeared from the body of the bus.

“That’s good. Just show her you don’t care,” Steve spoke up.

“I don’t,” Dustin grumbled. Steve winked at him, and you rolled your eyes.

“Why are you winking, Steve? Stop.” You interjected, kicking at his leg, much like Dustin had done earlier. “Besides, just so you know,” you added, directing your focus back at Dustin, but saying it just as much for Steve’s benefit, “that’s terrible advice. Girls like it when you show them that they mean something to you. If you just keep them guessing they’re going to lose interest.”

Suddenly, you heard a growl settle across the junkyard and the familiar chattering that haunted you in your sleep. You, Steve, and Dustin moved quickly to look out the caged in window. The fog making it difficult to make anything out.

“You see him?” You asked.

“No,” Steve replied, his eyes rapidly darting around the clearing hoping to catch a glimpse of something, anything that would be helpful in giving you even the slightest advantage in this fight.

“I’ve got eyes! Ten o’clock! Ten o’clock!” You suddenly heard Lucas yell from the roof. Surely enough, there it was. You felt anxiety start to creep up in your chest, but then you reminded yourself that you were caged in. The demogorgon couldn’t get you in there…right?

“He’s not taking the bait. Why is he not taking the bait?” Steve asked.

“Maybe he’s not hungry,” Dustin proposed. Surely that couldn’t be it, and you wracked your brain trying to come up with a plan. You finally settled on one, granted it wasn’t great, but it was about your best option at the moment. It’s now or never.

“Or maybe it’s sick of cow,” you added, swiftly getting up before anyone could stop you and grabbing the golf club.

“Y/n? Y/n, what are you doing?” Dustin asked, fear seeping into his voice. Steve shot up grabbing the nail bat, understanding where you were going. He decided he wasn’t going to argue, but he wasn’t going to let you go by yourself either.

“Y/n, Steve!” Dustin called out again. Steve tossed him the lighter, the boy fumbling it before he caught it.

“Just be ready,” Steve warned as the two of you quickly swung open the door and exited the safety of the bus. Steve started whistling and calling out to the demogorgon, attempting to lure it towards the bus so you could enact your plan. You both cautiously stepped farther and farther out into the clearing, weapons in hand, looking like you were about to play the most fucked up game of basegolf ever.

“Come on! Dinner time,” you shouted out feeling fear rise in your throat. You couldn’t believe you were walking back into this again, but you had three kids with you and you weren’t going to let this creature put a scratch on them. No one else needed to come out of this with scars. You finally saw the demogorgon, or well, adolescent demogorgon. It was on all fours, stepping out from the fog into the clearing. It looked fucking menacing and you the longer you were out here, the more determined than ever you were to kill the fucking thing.

Lucas’ voice suddenly rang out “Steve! Y/n! Watch out! Three o’clock! Three o’clock!” You looked to your left and realized it wasn’t alone as two more began to climb over one of the other rundown vehicles. It had brought company.

“A little busy,” Steve called back, eyes still focused on the demogorgon in front of him.

“Steve,” you warned, and the fear in your tone caused him to turn, finally realizing that you were outnumbered. Suddenly, the face of the one across from Steve opened up as it started bounding towards the two of you, it’s buddies swiftly closing in as well, Steve dodged the first one, rolling over the hood of a car to get out of the way. You whacked at one to your left with the golf club, barely dodging another as it charged at you. So much was happening at once, and you were struggling to process it all. You barely jumped out of the way of another attack, as Steve roughly grabbed your wrist swinging you in front of him and shoving you as you both sprinted towards the bus. You heard the kids’ screams for you to hurry as the creatures closed in behind you. the two of you barely hopped back into the bus and shut the door, landing in a heap as you shoved more sheet metal to block the door. One of the demogorgons lunged at the bus, its sharp claws clamoring against the metal as you and Steve tried desperately to hold the door shut with your legs.

The kids all sprung into action, Dustin calling out on his walkie talkie for help, as the demogorgon finally broke through the door. Steve started beating it with the nail bat, swinging again and again, as it still didn’t die with each blow. It finally stopped moving, but that was when you all heard the sounds of footsteps on the roof, realizing too late that you hadn’t blocked the emergency exit. Max stood at the bottom of the ladder as the demogorgon approached, you shoved her out of the way as it opened its mouth to shriek at you. You were back in relatively the same position you had been in a year ago, you unsheathed your knife from your hip about ready to slit its throat, when all of the sudden it stopped screeching, growling off into the distance before swiftly vacating the bus.

You all cautiously exited the bus, realizing that the rest of them had left as well, all of you confused by the fact that they had just left. These things didn’t leave, not without killing something first.

“What happened?” Lucas asked.

“Y/n and Steve scared them off?” Dustin replied.

“No way,” Steve disagreed, “they’re going somewhere.”

***

The five of you made your way back down the train tracks, trying to get back to Steve’s car so you could get the hell out of there. Lucas and Max had began asking Dustin questions, similar to the ones you and Steve had asked him when he first told you guys.

“When’s he gonna molt again?” Max asked.

“It’s gonna be soon. When he does, he’ll be fully grown, or close to it,” Dustin replied confidently. The thing had already grown significantly in just a few days, there’s no telling how long you had to find him until he was the nine-foot beast you were a little too familiar with.

“Yeah, and he’s gonna eat a lot more than just cats,” Steve added, unaware of the argument that it was going to start.

“Wait, Dart ate a cat?!” Lucas yelled the question, clearly angry.

“No, no he didn’t,” Dustin answered way too quickly.

“What are you talking about? He ate Mews,” Steve interjected clearly confused. You elbowed him in the ribs to get him to stop talking. You were already annoyed with these children 90% of the time; you didn’t need to listen to another one of their dumb arguments. You tuned out their yelling back and forth before you and Steve started to walk ahead, but then you heard a growl in the distance. You all ran at the sound, coming up to an overlook where you saw Hawkins Lab in the distance.

“It’s the lab,” Lucas finally said, “they were going back home.”

You started taking off towards the lab. You were going to finish this thing once and for all. Steve ran after you, putting a hand on your shoulder to slow you down. You whirled around already thinking of your argument when he told you that this was a bad idea. Before you could even get the words out, he was speaking.

“Hey, just promise me, whatever we do, we do together, okay?” There it was again, his pinky extended towards yours. You grabbed it tightly, looking him in the eyes with the most sincerity that you could muster.

“Promise.”

***

a/n: I hope y’all liked this part. Honestly I’m just excited for when I get to write Billy showing up and Max being a total badass, so if you’re interested in that stay tuned. I’ve been trying to crank these out as quickly as possible, and your engagement makes it all the more exciting to write them, so comment and reblog if you liked it!

#stranger things #joe keery #steve harrington #netflix #friends to lovers #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington friends to lovers #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington stranger things #steve harrington x reader blurb #steve harrington x you #stranger things x reader #steve harrington x reader #stranger things fanfiction #steve harrington angst #steve harrington the babysitter #steve harrington x reader fanfic #steve harrington fluff

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luveline · 2 years

Text

losers and the supernatural | steve harrington x reader

summary Steve has a theory about Hawkins being divided into two subsets. You try to work out where you fit within that. [4.5k]

warnings fluff, getting together, confessions, first kiss, mutual pining, pre-s4, no major s4 plot spoilers, gn!reader, shy!reader

Steve isn't how you remember.

In school you'd thought he was a bit of a jerk. A hot jerk with stupid nice hair, but a jerk. It's a surprise to see him uninjured for once, remembering the bruise that had covered his face during your last year of school, a bouquet of yellows and purples, and another surprise to see him at all behind the desk at Family Video.

"Hey," he says, at first sounding hesitant and then with a little more of his familiar bravado, "Y/N, how's it going?"

He leans over the desk on his elbows. You flounder – you hadn't expected to see him.

"Hi." You pull your strappy bag closer to your chest.

"What are you looking for?"

You can feel the heat rising in your cheek, distracted by him. He's more attractive than you remember, his big hand scrubbing over the bottom of his face as he waits patiently for your answer. You've never been good with people, with anyone housing a drop of popularity. You'd depended on weird Keith being here to get through a human interaction without sweating.

"Do you guys have Dressed to Kill?" you ask quietly.

"Sure thing. You want me to get it?"

You nod, chancing a glance at him. He's watching your hands where they abuse the hem of your shirt. You let them fall to your sides.

Steve rounds the desk and starts to where the tape must be hiding, stopping a foot away and making a small motion with his hand for you to follow so you do, the distance between you closing fast.

He smells of a musky cologne, bergamot and citrus hiding under a heavier smell, like sage or lavender, maybe both. It's distracting. You're still breathing him in when he pulls the movie down from its shelf and offers it to you.

The box has a pair of long legs and red heels. It looks pretty provocative. Your hands tremble as you take it from him, your embarrassment rising.

"That the one?"

"I- yeah. Thank you."

"You're welcome." A small silence. "You didn't start college in the fall?"

"No. S'expensive. I'm not, uh, scholarship smart."

He snorts. "Me neither. I haven't seen you around, I thought for sure you would've ditched Hawkins 'soon as school let up."

You tilt your head to the side and smile at him in reflex, confused. "Really?"

"Hundred percent. Are you kidding? Hawkins is full of losers." He shifts and you try desperately to maintain friendly eye contact, only he's crossed his arms and you can see the line of his forearm, the curve of muscle. "Losers and, like, the supernatural." He seems to have said something he didn't want to say, a nervous, lopsided small stretching over his lips. He scratches his cheek. "I'm pretty sure I saw a vampire last week but Robin won't hear it, she says it's just Keith lingering after his shift."

A laugh bubbles out of you, startled at his sense of humour. Keith does look like a vampire. Steve laughs too and smiles at you, something you don't know in the way his eyes darken and his lashes kiss in the corners.

"And Robin, is that your girlfriend?" you ask. Purely conversational, of course.

"No," he says quickly, taking a small step away from you as he shakes his head. "She's my best friend. She works here, when she's not sick."

"Oh. Sorry."

"C'mon, don't be. Do you have a boyfriend?" And, at your giggling, "What, is that funny?" His voice is warm with a light amusement.

"No, I’m not dating anyone."

"Thank god," he says.

You flush from head to toe.

He's smiling and suddenly not, hands flinching towards you. "Not like that- I mean, not not like that- what I meant was, uh, what I said. Losers and the supernatural, you know?"

You don't have a clue what he means and don't know if he's flirting or socially inept as you are, but you know what it's like to bumble around awkwardly and hope the other person will save you.

"Losers and the supernatural," you agree. "Which one are you?"

"A loser," he says, with a huge smile. "Definitely."

You'd paid for the movie and Steve had chatted with you a little bit more, kind and awkward but still undeniably Steve Harrington. He'd spoken offhandedly, said, "You'll have to tell me how the movie is," as you'd been leaving.

It followed you all week. You'd gone home and watched Dressed to Kill that night, then spent days agonising over how to summarise it in a way he would find cool. You knew it was stupid, it was literally his job to be friendly, but you really wanted to impress him.

That in itself felt weird to you. You never expected to feel like this but you knew the feelings you were experiencing marked the beginning of a crush. You couldn't help thinking about the sound of his voice, the earnestness of it. Worse, you were plagued with memories of his shirt sleeves, how they stretched over his bicep as he filled your details into the computer at the front desk, shifting muscle under tan skin.

You hesitated outside of Family Video to check your hair in the window. Through it, you could see that the desk was empty.

You edged open the door slowly and slipped inside making your way to the desk and peering around. Nobody was there, though you heard voices a second later.

Steve, undeniably. "If you could have, like, a modicum of compassion for me, that would be-"

"Modicum. What, have you been reading the fucking dictionary?"

"Says you! You realise normal people don't use the word capricious in everyday chitchat, right? Tell me you know that, Robs."

"And what use is compassion? You're a sinking ship. Crying about it doesn't unsink the Titanic."

"One, that was a tragedy, so get some class. Two, it's not sunk. I fumbled the ball a bit, but it's hardly time to call it quits." A crashing sound and a groan that sets you alight. "Oh, fuck."

Robin laughs very loudly. You could imagine her pointing at him as she does, the sound condescending. "Idiot."

"You're a bad friend."

"Steve," Robin sighs, "maybe the Titanic wasn't the best analogy. And I do feel sorry for you, you're pathetic-"

"Thanks so much."

"-but that doesn't mean it's over. They live in Hawkins. Their options are pretty limited."

"Thank you for your vote of confidence," he says, monotone.

You think maybe it's too late to pretend you aren't here and definitely too late to announce yourself so you don't do either. You pull your headphones from your bag and click play on your cassette and when the Family Video employees finally emerge you take them off like you've been listening to music the whole time.

"Y/N," Steve says, sounding antsy. "How long have you been waiting?"

"Not long," you say. You're being too quiet.

Steve doesn't seem to care. Robin smiles at you, looking almost as deer-in-the-headlights as her colleague but hiding it better.

"I'm gonna go… finish… that thing we were doing. Yep," she says, fleeing to the back room.

Your headphones around your neck, the metallic sounds of Tears for Fears' Songs from the Big Chair, you give the King of Hawkins High a cautious but honest smile. You worry you might pass out when he returns it.

"So? Did you like the movie?" he asks.

You turn to your bag and pull the tape out where it had fit rather snugly. "It was okay. I don't know, I-" you wince. "I wanted to say something cool but, I'm not very good with movies." Your voice rises in pitch as you go.

You hold the tape out. Steve takes it but doesn't take it, both of you with one hand on the box. You almost feel like you've been shocked, staring down at his fingers, his knuckles and his class ring.

"I'm not great with movies, either," he confides. "I know what you're thinking – this jagoff works at Family Video but doesn't know what makes a movie good? What are they paying him for?" he acts out dramatically, a smirk playing on his handsome features as he accepts your tape.

You laugh and he fails to hide a smile as he logs your return.

"What do they pay you for, then?" you ask.

"What do you think? My good looks and charm, duh."

"Here I thought it was for the hair."

His eyes light up. "They should be! You know how much hairspray it takes to style this thing?"

"I can't imagine," you joke with him.

"You don't want to. I'm gonna have to remortgage the house if this carries on."

You hum under your breath and lean across the desk just as the tape switches. Head over Heels plays loudly, your hands inching towards his unthinkingly.

"What are you listening to?" he asks, nodding his head to your headphones.

They're a cheap set with orange foam pads. You pull them over your head and offer them to him bashfully. He's much more confident as he accepts them, pushing them over his hair. You delight in his enthusiasm, at odds with Steve from three years ago, who would've died rather than ruin his immaculate updo, who might not have even looked your way.

He bobs his head along to the song, looking to you as the chorus builds. His lips form a satisfied 'o' and he leans backwards. "Hey," he says, too loud, "this is awesome. What's this song called?"

"Head over Heels," you say, hoping he can read your lips if he can't hear you.

He peels the headset from his ears and gives them back to you, fingertips brushing yours. Pinpricks of heat crawl over your skin.

"Head over Heels?" You nod. "You might not know movies but your music taste is pretty stellar."

"Thanks," you murmur, shy at his praise.

"You ever been upto Indianapolis? They have a lot of live music there."

You rush to answer. "Yes, yeah! Freshman year, AC/DC played the Market Square arena, it was amazing. I've never seen so many people in one place. It felt like all of Hawkins could've fit in there."

"AC/DC? You like rock music?"

If he'd asked a different way you might've lied. He didn't sound judgemental or surprised, only interested.

Your shoulders hike anyway as you answer. "Yeah, I do. More when I was in High School."

"You're cool, Y/N L/N," he says, palms braced on the desk.

You squeeze the headphones in your hands and try not to show how affected you are. "I'm not."

"You are. Too cool for Hawkins."

"Losers and the supernatural," you recall.

His grin is dizzying. "Exactly."

You can't take the intensity of it, of how bright his smile is and how it makes you nervous. You look away from him, eyes scanning the shelves, some half-stocked.

"You caught us on a Monday. Quietest day, so we're rearranging. Or, we should be."

"I'm sorry! Am I keeping you?" You turn back to him quickly.

Steve crosses his arms. "No way. Like I said, quietest day. You're the best part of my week."

He probably doesn't mean it the way you think he does, or if he does he's only joking, you argue with yourself.

He's watching you. "You want help finding another movie?"

He's around the desk and at your side before you can say yes, smelling strongly of that bergamot musk. You sink a little bit further, reckoning that Robin's Titanic analogy was spot on.

Six visits to Family Video later, you're thinking about returning a movie Steve has picked out for you – Sixteen Candles, which you've already seen but lied about so you can listen to him sell it – when you run into him at Bradley's Big Buy.

A cart full of groceries, you feel shocked and then silly. Of course he buys groceries. Everybody buys groceries, and it's imperative that you hide from him in your own grocery outfit - jeans and a paint speckled t-shirt from your Hawkins High days, a gym shirt with your name written across the front in teenage handwriting.

You're so busy hiding you don't hear him approach.

"Hey, Y/N," he says.

You bring your basket to your chest in hopes of hiding your shirt. It doesn't work.

"Nice shirt."

You grimace, about to explain how it's wash day and you don't always dress like an idiot, you swear, but he starts to pull up his hoodie.

You go a bit blind at first, eyes searching the expanse of midriff he exposes greedily moments before he finds the hem of his shirt and pulls it down for you to see. A Hawkins High gym shirt.

"Oh my god," you say.

"Funny coincidence," he says, dropping his hoodie back down. "It looks better on you."

You can't look at him, shy again from his flirting remarks. Your eyes are drawn to his groceries. It's funny how stereotypical it is, TV dinners and chips, ice cream, moon cakes. You raise your brows at him and laugh. His eyes go wide as saucers.

"We're having a movie night. Me and Robin. I swear, I eat like a normal dude. Mostly. Some of the time."

"No, I, I'm not judging. I'm not much better," you say, brandishing your basket at him. Slightly healthier but with a similar abundance of chips.

You go to talk at the same time, eager.

"What movie are you watching?"

"We're renting Alien."

He chuckles and you scratch at your collar.

"You ever seen it?" he asks.

"No, I can't watch scary movies by myself."

"It's… do you maybe wanna come?"

You end up in the passenger seat of Steve's 733i, abashed because you're badly dressed and because he invited you. Heart racing, you take the opportunity to admire his face when he can't see you, his eyes on the road as he drives from Bradley's. It's getting dark, the asphalt slowly blending with the sky as kilometres disappear under the BMW's tyres

"You're sure Robin won't mind?" you ask.

Steve glances at you. "Sure. She gets, like, acute verbal diarrhea around new people but she's the nicest girl I've ever met."

"She wasn't in our classes, was she?"

"No. Robin's still a senior. We met working at Starcourt."

Starcourt is a hard topic to navigate. People died. You decide to manoeuvre around it. "It's lucky you can work together again."

"It's not luck. She made me take a movie crash course before we applied, and when Keith didn't seem so taken with me she convinced him."

"She must really like you, Harrington."

He looks very thoughtful, inclining his head towards you though he doesn't turn, eyes on the road diligently. "She's a really good friend. I liked her…" he grasps for words, "as more than a friend. But she didn't like me back."

"I'm sorry," you say.

You can't mistake the look he gives you when he does turn, quick but undeniable. "Don't be," he says seriously, his eyes searching as they take in your face. "It never would've worked between us."

You smile at your knees. "No?"

"Nope," he confirms.

You infer something ridiculous; that it couldn't have worked because he seems to like you.

You pull up outside his house and find Robin waiting on the stoop.

"Where have you been? It's about two degrees from the ninth circle out here! I'm at risk of pneumonia."

"The ninth circle?" you ask Steve quietly, trudging down the driveway besides him.

"It's from that book, Dante's Inferno?" he tells you gently. "Slow your roll, Buckley! I was getting the goods."

Robin sees you, looks between you and Steve with wide eyes, and gifts you an uneasy smile, enigmatic in its awkwardness.

"Hi."

"Hi," you say back, wishing you'd worn a jacket.

"When you say goods, I trust you mean candy, right? Not just your- L/N," she finishes, cringing.

You don't know what she meant to say. Steve reaches between you in what you know is the first time he's ever touched you to squeeze your arm lightly before he pulls his keys from his pocket to unlock the door.

"Yeah, I got your candy. You're eating me out of house and home," he scolds.

Your ears are roaring so loud you almost miss her reply. "I'd need to eat more than a bowl of chips to do that, Steve. You live in a mansion, in case you forgot."

He scoffs. "Shut up."

The door opens. Steve dumps the bag of groceries swinging from the crook of his arm at the threshold to toe out of his shoes and jacket and you follow suit, embarrassed further by your mismatched ankle socks.

Robin gives you a look that says, get a load of this guy. "We're not all living it large. Some of us have, like, a wardrobe for a bedroom."

"Buckley."

She holds her hands up in surrender. "Just saying. I don't think your enabling of my sweet tooth is gonna put you out."

Steve gives you a look of his own as you follow Robin into the Harrington living room. He rolls his eyes good naturedly at her and you press your lips together to stop from laughing as he flicks on the lights and puts the tape in the TV. You stand awkwardly in the doorway as Robin throws herself down onto the sofa, a pint of melting ice cream in her hand.

"Steve, get the spoons?" she asks hopefully.

Steve sighs, a noise only the long-suffering can make.

"Hey," he says as he walks past, shoulder almost touching yours, the gap filled with a white hot electricity you're sure he must feel too. "Go sit down, make yourself comfortable."

You sit at the opposite end from Robin. She's already wriggling down onto her back, kicking her feet up onto the coffee table in a practised routine.

She turns her head slowly, like she can feel your gaze, and scrambles to fill the silence.

"Steve really likes you, you know?" she says, then something goes dead behind her eyes. She mumbles to herself, then grimaces at you with two rows of perfect teeth. "He thinks you're cool. I think you're cool too, obviously, too cool for Steve."

"Steve is cool," you deny without any real heat.

"Are you kidding? Steve is the opposite of cool. He cries at the end of every movie, he keeps his Scoops uniform at the bottom of his closet. He wears a shower cap."

You shake your head at her. Those are the kind of things that make him cool.

She rolls her head forward and shrugs, slinking down even further with the ice cream balanced on her chest. The movie previews can't be far from over as Steve returns with two spoons, passing one to Robin and one to you.

"It's your loss," Robin says as Steve sits in the middle of the couch and passes you the second pint of ice cream. She says it softly, like she knows it's not a loss at all.

"Steve, what about-" you, you try to say.

"You have it. I don't like rocky road," he interrupts encouragingly.

You peek at Robin and she's shaking her head vehemently, as if to say, that's not true. When Steve turns to her she acts as if nothing happened.

The movie plays. Robin makes quick work of her ice cream, an entire bag of chips and upwards of three moon cakes. You're in awe, your attention captured by her rather than the film. Steve has slowly deflated next to you, his arm brushing yours, the fabric of his hoodie soft against your bare skin.

You flinch as the alien baby bursts from Kane's chest on screen, edging closer to Steve without meaning to. He pushes his shoulder into yours, chin dipping back. "Oh, gross," he says excitedly.

"How do they make the corn syrup blood look so real?" you ask quietly.

"They must dye it with something. The chunks of his chest, that's disgusting."

Robin agrees, evidently, because she throws a hand over her mouth and leaps to her feet. You and Steve hear the firm click of the bathroom door and the awful echo of her retching as she loses her snack feast.

"Fuck, I'll go check on her. Pause the movie?" he asks. You nod. He clasps your shoulder thankfully and leaves the room.

Steve returns a little while later. You're ramrod straight on the edge of his couch, hand on your shoulder trying to feel where he'd just touched you, though you quickly stop. He throws himself down next to you roughly, his thigh to your thigh and sinking down. You lean over him.

"What happened?"

"She ate too much and Kane's explosion messed her up. Gonna sleep it off upstairs."

"But she's okay?" you ask, concerned.

He raises a hand like he's going to touch your face but thinks better of it. It falls to his chest. "She's fine. Don't worry, I set her up with a bucket and Rocky Horror."

"You have a TV in your room?"

Steve chuckles. "That's what you got from all that?"

"Robin's right. You're loaded."

"I'm not loaded. My dad's pretty comfortable." He pouts just slightly. "You wanna finish the movie?"

"Yeah."

You pass him the remote and he dutifully unpauses. It plays for only a few minutes before you want to talk to him again.

"Would you kill the baby alien?" you ask.

"Definitely."

"It's a baby." .

He looks at you skeptically. "A baby that's gonna grow up. Trust me, it might look cute when it's not eating through your diaphragm, but that's what it wants you to think. Soon enough it'll be the size of a city rat and murdering your house pets."

"You sound like you have experience with this."

You think it's cute, how passionate he sounds, his enthused hypothetical. Steve ruffles his hair, scratching at his scalp lightly, his watch strap tugging at soft strands. He hisses and you reach forward to untangle a piece of hair from the clasp, holding very still as you do, your fingers methodical. You flatten his hair, combing the mess back into place.

"Thanks," he says slowly, his eyes on your lips.

You lower your trembling hand. "Don't mention it."

The two of you turn resolutely to the TV. Your face burns, your chest burns worse, and you demean yourself for thinking that Steve might kiss you.

"Robin said-" you start.

"I was wondering-" Steve tries simultaneously.

"You go," you tell him.

He narrows his eyes.

"What did Robin tell you?" Steve asks. You bite your lips until he sighs, faux forlorn. "I was only wondering… I mean. This might be a bad time to ask, but I wanted to ask you out on a date."

"A date?" you repeat, looking for a response and coming up empty.

"Right, like. Dinner? Enzo's." Your eyes blow wide and he scrambles, "Or not! We can go anywhere. Fucking McDonald's, if you wanted."

"Robin said you liked me," you say, breathless.

"Yeah, well she's a snake," he says snarkily.

"You like me?" you ask. Maybe it's not tasteful to beg for a confession, but you need to know.

"I did just ask you on a date."

You sit back and Steve gets up from his slouching.

"You're, like, the coolest person I've ever met. You're adorable, and you have a killer taste in music."

You've forgotten how to speak. Steve takes this the wrong way, brown hair falling into his eyes, the light from the TV painting his skin a pale green, then blown white like a photograph with the exposure too high.

"I get it, if you don't want to. I work at Family Video, I flunked school. I couldn't get into community college, so I-" he presses his lips together, his tone light, "I'm a total loser," he says, "oh my god. And I'm still talking."

"Steve," you say, pressing your palm into his thigh to gather his attention. "You're not a loser."

"I'm not the supernatural," he says.

"I don't know. You could be a vampire," you tease. "And anyways, this mould you've built for Hawkins is insane. Loser, supernatural. Which one would I be?" you ask curiously, fingers flexing over his thigh.

He covers your hand with his. You both look down to watch as he rubs his thumb over your knuckles, then wraps his fingers around yours.

"Supernatural," he says, too smug, you know he's about to say something corny. "There's something supernatural about those eyes, baby."

You laugh so hard it catches you off guard, choking on them. "What! Steve, how long have you been holding onto that one?"

"I just thought of it," he says.

"I can tell! That was awful, you really-"

"Can I kiss you?"

Your giggles fade. Your heart rockets in your chest. Steve's free hand finds your arm, teasing the hem of your sleeve, his eyes watching you carefully. They're so brown his pupils melt into the irises.

"Please?" he asks.

You nod without saying anything.

His long fingers push under your sleeve, spread out across your skin. He warms where he touches, squeezing the dough of your arm gently as he pulls you closer. His now familiar cologne hits you all at once and you're filled with a want to be closer, ducking in as he closes the gap between you and kisses you sweetly.

You steal your hand from under his to reach for him, hands smoothing over the hill and curve of his shoulders to meet behind his neck, brushing through his downy soft hair.

Steve covets your face, lips lifting away to realign and reignite a wave of firecrackers under your skin, firm as his lips part ever so slightly. He tastes like soda. It makes you giggle, a huff against his smiling lips.

He pulls away, the bottom of his palm touching your jaw but his fingers hovering over your skin, stroking the skin under your eye with the tip of his index finger so lightly it tickles.

Your eyes drift closed as he brushes against your eyelashes.

"You're really pretty," he murmurs.

He takes your face in both hands and kisses the well under your eye. You hold your breath, tummy churning with butterflies at the feeling of his warm lips on your delicate skin.

When he pulls away you're quick to take back your hands. He's less so, one big palm cupping your neck and the other rubbing a line down your arm until he finds your fingers, twining them together with his as he gives you what must be a cheek-aching smile.

"I think I'd like to go to Enzo's," you say shyly.

"Yeah?" he asks, leaning back in.

"Yeah," you say, your response quickly smothered by his lips.

You can feel his smile.

You were right about Steve being a vampire – you find out soon enough that he likes to bite. Your lips, gently, and your neck, less so.

thanks for reading! | my masterlist | my requests are open

#steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington x you #stranger things #stranger things 4 #stranger things x reader #steve harrington x reader fluff #steve harrington x gn!reader #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington blurb #steve harrington x reader fanfic #steve and robin best duo

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jamdoughnutmagician · 1 year

Text

Between The Sheets

Steve Harrington x Female Reader

Summary:A lazy Sunday morning in bed with Steve leads to something more...

Warnings:Smut, 18+, Unprotected Sex (obviously), Spooning, Cock Warming, Cuddle-fucking, Breeding Kink, Daddy/Mommy kink (kind of??)

Word Count:990

Authour’s Note: OH WE MAKING BABIES I’ve written a few filthy fics before, but this one is truly honest-to-god filthy..so I’m sorry.. also sorry if there’s any mistakes!

It was no secret to you about how Steve wanted a family of his own. A family of his own with you. The memory of him sharing his fantasy of having ‘six little nuggets’ running around always lived in the back of your mind.

It was also no secret to you that Steve loved being snuggled up to you. Spooning close to you, his chest pressed to your back whilst he peppered small kisses to your shoulders, neck and behind your ear.

His arm would always sling its way around your body, his large hands finding their place holding your breasts, fingers toying with your nipples, rolling them under his fingertips.

It was one of those lazy Sunday mornings where neither of you needed to be anywhere, and the warmth of your bed was more appealing than the cold outside world. Your naked bodies huddled together, his morning wood eagerly pressing against your bare pussy.

“Keep me warm for a bit, Honey?” He rasped out, his voice husky with sleep.

“As you wish” you smiled as you hoisted your leg up closer to your chest giving him access to your pussy.

Steve swipes himself through your folds a few times, coating himself in the wetness of your arousal, before guiding his increasingly hard and thick cock towards your core. He slowly sinks inside you inch by inch until he’s as close to you as he can be.

Steve's size is always a stretch to you. He's just so thick that the press of him inside you is never anything short of a tight squeeze, and yet, you welcome the delicious burn that comes with him being inside you.

Everytime Steve pushes himself into your bare cunt, with nothing separating you from him, his mind betrays him and all he can think about is breeding your pretty pussy. Filling you up until you’re so absolutely full with him.

You knew what Steve was thinking about, he was thinking about making a start on getting those six little nuggets that he so badly wanted. You knew he was thinking about it, because it’s what you were thinking about too.

“Want you so bad, honey” he purred against your ear “wanna give you my kids”

“Well what are you waiting for big boy, let’s do it” you say suggestively over your shoulder.

Steve swears that his brain stops functioning for a moment, images of you all big and swollen with his child flooding his mind. It didn’t take very long before his hips snapped into action, sliding almost all of the way out of your warm wet pussy, before his hips thrust back up to meet yours, filling you with his thick cock.

He keeps fucking up into you whilst his large hands are holding the weight of your boobs, squeezing the soft flesh of them under his fingers. He’s always been obsessed with your boobs, and in this position he was able to take full advantage of the feel of the soft weight of your tits in his large hands.

“Think about how big your tits’ll be when they’re full of milk…fuck” he groans out continuing to toy with your peaked nipples.

His hand snakes down to splay over your stomach as he holds you close, whilst thrusting up into you with his thick cock.

“Can you feel me right here, Honey?” He says pressing his hand down on your stomach. “I’m practically in your guts” his voice groans out.

Steve always managed to leave you breathless every time. The stretch of his cock filling you so completely.

It wasn’t enough for Steve to be this close to you, he wanted to look at your face as he filled you. He pulled out of you briefly with a grunt before gently man-handling you until you were laying flat on your back. He moved himself so that he was hovering over you, caging you safe between strong arms.

“Wanted to see your pretty face, Princess. Wanted to look at you whilst I breed this pretty little cunt.” He says as he presses the red leaky head of his cock at your entrance, before rocking his hips to slide himself deep inside you once more.

You reached your hand up to gently cup his face in your hand, stroking your thumb over his cheek. There was something about being under him like this that would send your heart racing. No matter what, he was always your Stevie.

“Making me feel so good, Stevie…Feel so full…” you whined out.

“Yeah…you’re so tight, honey…gonna fill you up so good.” he moaned out between grunts.

“Gonna make me a Mommy, Stevie?”

“Fuck…” he drawled out. “Yeah Honey..Daddy’s gonna fill you up and make you a Mommy” His hips continued thrusting into you, whilst his hand dropped down to rub over your sensitive clit.

It didn’t take very much more than a few more rolls of Steve’s hips and his fingers rubbing tight circles over your clit before you were coming. Squeezing his thick cock as your orgasm rushed over you.

The squeeze of your tight wet walls, hugging his length so deliciously was what sent Steve over the edge. Burying himself so deep inside, whilst he stilled above you, filling you with the hot spurts of his release.

He looks down at you through the mess of his hair that’s fallen over his eyes as he leans down to capture your lips in a deep kiss.

Pulling away from his lips, you reach your hand up once more to rake your fingers through his hair, moving it out of his eyes.

“So…Daddy, huh?” you lightly tease.

“You started it, Mommy”

“Do you think it worked?” you smile.

“Well I suppose there’s no harm in doing that again..you know just to make sure...I know I certainly would be up for round two if you are.” he chuckles.

“I’m ready when you are, Harrington.” You smirked.

#steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x female reader #steve harrington x reader smut #steve harrington smut #steve harrington x female reader smut #stranger things s4 #stranger things fanfic #steve harrington x reader fanfic #steve harrington #steve 'the hair' harrington

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ladymercury8 · 2 years

Text

Any Way the Wind Blows | Steve Harrington x Reader

Summary: You get cursed by Vecna, and find yourself floating in midair while Steve suffers a mild breakdown. [2.5k]

Warnings: S4 SPOILERS! Angst.

❃❃❃❃❃

“Woah woah woah, hey, you feeling OK?” Steve asked, gripping your shoulder tightly, his dark brown eyes emptily searching your fleeting ones.

He had just witnessed you entering some form of… trance? He wasn’t entirely sure what it was. And, to be frank, neither were you. It was an out-of-body experience. One moment you were leaning across the counter at Family Video, talking to Steve; the next you heard a deep, rumbling voice echoing behind you.

“Y/N.”

You followed it, past the dark particles floating in the air, to a stiff wooden clock lodged into the wall. The ticking made you wince, the repeated gongs made you shiver.

And then it was over. And you were back, next to Steve.

You blinked rapidly, looking down, lightly shaking your head to clear the confusion.

“Y/N? Talk to me, I’m not a brick wall.”

You glanced up, finally registering Steve’s presence, the concerned look in his eyes, the furrow of his brow.

“What? Sorry, yes, I’m fine, just… just got a bit dizzy there.”

Steve knew you were lying. He could read you like the back of his hand. Better than the back of his hand. He could read you like every perfectly placed hair on his goddamn perfect head. But he didn’t want to press you.

And you. You had recognized the darkness, the ominous atmosphere, the biting tension in the air. You remembered the Upside Down. Yet you didn’t want to believe it was real.

❃❃❃❃❃

It started with the headaches. You’d had occasional tension-induced pain before, but this was more frequent, and much more potent.

Steve immediately noticed them. The way you walked away from him, clasping your fingers to your temples, eyes forcefully shutting.

But only after breaking into Hawkins High, ransacking the counsellor’s office, and Max reading out the symptoms that the dead teenagers had experienced did you know that you were in trouble.

In fact, right after she read them out, as the kids continued to rummage through the counsellor’s drawers, you were blinded with pain, pulling away from the arm Steve had wrapped around your shoulders as he leafed through some document.

His brows came together, furrowed. He watched you walk into a darker corner of the room before he quietly approached you.

“You want some aspirin or something?” he whispered, refraining from touching you.

“You got some on you?” You turned around, one eyebrow raised, your other eye slightly closed, blocking out the light.

“No… but I could go get some. I swear, counsellors should be able to give kids medicine. It’s high school, for Christ’s sake. Hormones. Stress…” he paused in his rambling, looking at you with wide eyes, “Can a kiss make it better?”

You chuckled, “I wish, gorgeous.”

Steve slowly approached you, reading your every movement, seeing no signs of discomfort at his invading your space, and thus proceeding. He slung his arms around your waist, bringing his lips to your forehead. It was burning hot.

“Max! Max! Is she OK?! Wake up!” You heard Lucas’ voice gradually increase in panic.

Steve turned as fast as lightning, running over instinctively to see what was happening before his mind even registered his surroundings.

He recognized it. The trance. He looked back at you, over his shoulder, lips parted.

You approached her as well, pressing your palm to her forehead, lightly justling her frame.

You and the boys kept shaking her until she finally emerged, resurfaced. She grabbed your hand, pulling you into the hallway, talking about some clock.

She had factually confirmed your sight of the old grandfather clock.

Both of you were in trouble.

❃❃❃❃❃

Everyone knew that Max was in danger, though nobody believed she would die. But only Steve knew you were going through the same thing.

He tried talking to you about it, shouting obscenities and repetitions of "you're insane!"

But you pushed him away with a small, “I’ll be fine.”

I mean, what could you do to prevent Vecna killing you?

❃❃❃❃❃

Max wanted a moment with Billy, at his grave, to read him a letter.

You, Steve and the kids stayed in the car. Lucas and Dustin sat on the hood, watching, like lookouts. You and Steve were inside, at the front.

The tension was so thick in the air that you could cut it with a knife.

Steve’s hand was sprawled along the window, fingers pulsing, dancing.

You were combing your hair through your fingers, your knee jumping around in anxiety.

Too much time had passed. The waiting became unbearable. You grabbed Steve’s wrist, twisting it to see his watch.

“All right, it’s been long enough.” You stormed out of the car, ignoring the admonitions of Dustin and Lucas. Steve was hot on your heels.

“Max, kiddo, you alright?” You jogged up to her.

She turned her head to the side, softly nodding, smiling.

And then you were back in hell.

❃❃❃❃❃

“Y/NNNNNN,” the deep voice growled.

You turned sharply, face to face with… quite frankly, you didn’t know what it was. Vecna? Yes. Human? Human form, once, maybe.

“Stop this!” you yelled, “let me out!”

“It’s time, Y/N. Time for you to join me.”

❃❃❃❃❃

Dustin and Lucas noticed Max and Steve’s agitation, sprinting up instantly.

“Y/N?! Y/N?! Baby, you gotta wake up, now,” Steve pleaded, hands gripping your shoulders tightly. But this had happened before. He knew you would emerge from your stupor.

Until your eyes twirled around to the back of your socket.

“Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit, shit, shit,” Dustin repeated, increasingly agitated, increasingly quick.

Lucas only stood back, eyes wide, terrified.

“Shit, fuck, Y/N, honey, come back to me. I’m right here, LISTEN to me,” Steve begged now, hand cupping your jaw, shaking you harder. His hands were trembling. He turned to Dustin, grasping him by his jacket. “Call Nancy and Robin! Go get ‘em! Call Nancy and Robin! GO!”

Dustin had never seen Steve so desperate, so raw. His eyes rimmed with red, his body barely breathing. Henderson sprinted down the hill, tripping over his own two feet. “Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit, shit!”

“Y/N you can’t do this to me, this wasn’t how things were gonna work out,” Steve was crying now, pushing your hair away from your face. “I can’t lose you, I-I-I just can’t- WAKE UP FOR GOD’S SAKE.”

Dustin darted back up, throwing a dozen cassette tapes and a Walkman on the grass, flinging his own body along as well.

“What is this?” Lucas and Max pleaded at the same time.

“Her song – what’s her favorite song?!” Dustin was staring at Steve, eyes frantic.

“What?! W-why?!” Confusion laced Steve’s features.

“Robin said if she listens– it’s too much to explain right now. STEVE.” Dustin grabbed him by the shoulders, yelling in desperation, “WHAT’S. HER FAVORITE. SONG?!”

Steve didn’t hesitate, remembering the endless car rides where he let you blast your tunes, bare feet tapping along on the dashboard; the midnight dancing at his house, just the two of you, shameless; the sole moments where, in a haze of silence, you would start humming with your sweet voice.

“Queen. Get Queen. Bohemian Rhapsody!”

The three boys fidgeted amongst the tapes, until Lucas, scrambling, found the correct one. He placed the cassette in the Walkman Max was holding as Steve gently clasped the headphones around your ears, smoothing your hair, placing a kiss on your crown, holding the back of your head in his hand. His other hand grasped your own.

The boys heard the muffled opening. Is this the real life? Is this just fantasy?

❃❃❃❃❃

You had escaped from the darkness, and emerged in some red universe, debris floating everywhere.

“What are you doing in here, Y/N?”

The ground was covered with spiders, the clock’s chimes haunting, echoing in the background.

“Come back to me.”

You spun around and around, examining your surroundings, searching for somewhere to run. Only then did you notice the corpses strewn on the pillars, dark tentacles wrapped around their necks.

“Would you like to join them?”

Vecna emerged from behind a staircase, menacingly approaching you.

You turned around, intending to run, but something wrapped around your ankle, pulling you away.

“FUCK! NO!” You were screaming, desperately trying to grab something.

You were thrown against a pillar, a tentacle wrapping around your throat.

You couldn’t breathe. You were choking.

And then.

Is this the real life? Is this just fantasy?

Music breaking the void.

Looking behind Vecna who had leeringly approached you, you saw a hole in the red. An opening to another world. Your world. There were the kids. And there was Steve.

“Y/N?! Wake up! Please! We’re right here.” Steve was pleading. You saw he was holding you, shaking you.

“Please! Come on!” Dustin, Lucas and Max shouted in tandem.

“They can’t help you, Y/N,” Vecna seethed. “You belong here, with me.”

“Motherfucker,” you wheezed out.

Vecna’s claws started spreading over your face, obscuring your vision. You tried to escape his grasp, but only hit your head against the pillar behind you.

❃❃❃❃❃

And then your body started lifting up.

Steve knew what was happening. If Eddie’s story was true, this sole levitation signaled your impending death.

He grabbed onto your hand, holding it, forcing you back down. But the gravitational force pulling you, whatever it was, was stronger.

Your hand slipped from Steve’s, your fingers grazing against his palm. He tried reaching your foot, but it was too late. Your ankle missed his grasp.

❃❃❃❃❃

You saw your body float up; saw Steve grab at his hair, pulling it raw; saw the kids yell in fear and frustration.

You started to accept your end.

But not your mind. Your brain embraced the music. Your soul saw the desperation of those kids – your friends, and the love of your life.

“Mama, oooo. Didn't mean to make you cry”

Like often advertised, your life started to flash before your eyes. The good bits, at least.

“If I'm not back again this time tomorrow”

You, Max and Eleven at Starcourt Mall, snapping silly photos in the photobooth, scrunchies and rainbow outfits, peace signs and crinkled eyes. “Carry on, carry on as if nothing really matters”

Playing Dungeons and Dragons with the boys, their younger faces radiant, so absorbed in the game, shouting with every turn of events, throwing the pieces around the basement.

“Too late, my time has come”

And Steve. Every single fucking moment with Steve. Cause there was no grey cloud. It had been bliss.

Cheering him on at his basketball game, louder than any cheerleader. Jumping over all the bleachers, running up and kissing him when he lost, his hands wrapping around your waist limply, defeated, as you whispered comforting words in his ear.

“Sends shivers down my spine, body's aching all the time”

Hiding together in the storeroom of Scoops Ahoy, playfully flirting, cuddling, Steve’s hair barely contained under his ridiculous hat – which he promptly removed, muttering something about company policy. Robin would bring you both free ice cream, always your favorite flavors, and Steve would insist on having to lick off what was staining the side of your lip.

“Goodbye, everybody, I've got to go”

Visiting Steve at Family Video, sitting behind the counter with him. He never left your side, his arm was always across your shoulder, his lips peppering your face with kisses: your nose, your eyes, your forehead, your jaw, your neck, your collarbones, your lips.

“Gotta leave you all behind and face the truth”

The morning after your first time with Steve, your bodies intertwined, your hands clasping each other’s and laid together against Steve’s chest. You just relaxed, caressing Steve’s face, pushing back his hair. His eyes fluttered open, sleepy, a dazed smile spreading across his face. A look of utter adoration.

“Mama, oooo. I don't want to die, I sometimes wish I'd never been born at all!”

I don’t want to die. I don’t.

With all your strength, you grasped one of Vecna’s tentacles, pulling it off. A rather warrior-like roar left your lips as he dropped you to the ground. You scrambled to your feet and began running.

Running towards Steve.

“I see a little silhouetto of a man, scaramouch, scaramouch, will you do the fandango?”

Vecna didn’t move. He sent boulders and debris flying your way. He tried to stop you.

“Thunderbolts and lightning, very, very frightening me!”

But, let’s face it, however cheesy it may sound, nothing can stop the force of true love.

“Beelzebub has a devil put aside for me, for me, for me!”

You ran. Your lungs burned. Your feet were numb. Yet you ran.

“So you think you can stop me and spit in my eye”

You dodged every obstacle, you jumped over every ravine.

“So you think you can love me and leave me to die. Oh, baby, can't do this to me, baby,”

Your eyes focused on Steve. That was the finishing line.

“Just gotta get out, just gotta get right outta here”

❃❃❃❃❃

You gasped, eyes flying open, your body racing down to the ground.

“Y/N!!!” Steve was there instantly, catching you, taking the brunt of the impact.

You were gasping, crying, hyperventilating. Steve was, too. He wrapped himself around your torso forcefully, repeating, “it’s OK, it’s OK, you’re OK, I’ve got you now, beautiful, you’re safe.”

You dug your nails into his shoulder, but he didn’t mind. He had you back.

“I thought you- you were-“ Steve couldn’t bring himself to say it. The notion that he had lost you, that you died while in his hands, in his care…

“I’m still here,” you wheezed out, “can’t get rid of me that easily, Harrington.”

He pressed his lips to your temple, rubbing your arm, hair bouncing as he shook his head at your intact humor. You were back.

The kids had grabbed at you as well, wanting to make sure you were real, that you were alright. With your other hand you caressed each of their cheeks.

Steve held you while you calmed down. He wasn’t letting go ever again.

As the sun continued to set, you were still attempting to regain control over your breath, to accept what had happened.

Dustin, Lucas and Max had made their way to the car, informing Nancy and Robin of what occurred.

Steve just kept his eyes closed, rocking you, breathing your sent in.

“Come here,” you mumbled, pushing away from him, catching his gaze.

He brought his forehead to yours, eyes locked.

“Don’t you ever fucking do that again. You hear me?” he whispered.

You slowly nodded, glancing down at his lips. Your nose bumped his, and then your lips met.

It started as a soft kiss. But gradually became forceful, desperate. Steve’s hand cupped your jaw, your palms were pressed against his chest.

You could have stayed like that if it wasn’t for Dustin’s shouts of “Get a room!”

You chuckled. Steve muttered something about Henderson needing to get his ego in check. He stood up, reaching a hand out to help you.

“Not taking these goddamn headphones off ever again,” he muttered, placing the headphones back on your ears, pressing ‘play’ on the Walkman.

You smiled at him, grabbing his rough hand, clasping it in your own, your small fingers enveloped in his.

“Any way the wind blows...”

❃❃❃❃❃

Thank you for reading! x

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