Steve Harrington Imagine - Tumblr Posts

always be my baby

PAIRING steve harrington/fem!reader

SUMMARY watching your best friend constantly flirting with every girl he meets is very upsetting to you, and you can't figure out why

WARNINGS spoiler free! (the only slight spoiler is that steve is going on a lot of dates), slight mentions of trauma from starcourt, mild language, perceived unrequited love (it's not) - the beginning is a flashback, it's relevant later

REQUESTED yes/no

WORD COUNT 5.3k words

i watched the first four episodes of st4 today and i can't withhold my need to write for steve any longer. be gentle with me, i haven't written for stranger things in two years - also, if you're going to comment please do not comment spoilers! i have not seen past dear billy yet.

The adrenaline pumping through your veins was the only thing keeping you going as you sat in an ambulance outside of Starcourt Mall, some sort of thick blanket wrapped around you as an EMT cleaned the wounds littering your face. You’d made it out with everyone else, though some people hadn’t. Hopper, Billy, neither of them made it. Billy was the only one you’d seen, the one who you knew the best out of the two. 

It had been true that you didn’t love Billy, he had never been very nice to Steve and by default wasn’t the nicest to you. But you didn’t hate him, how could you hate someone you hardly knew? You’d met him a couple times, but he had transferred to Hawkins during your last year at the school, and you never had any time to get to know anything about him other than him being rather rude to Steve. But seeing him die… you never wanted to witness that, how could you? 

Your thoughts were pushed aside as you heard the woman cleaning your wounds finally say something, perhaps she had been speaking the entire time and you had yet to notice. However, you hoped that wasn’t the case. 

“This one is going to need stitches, sweetie.” She said, looking at you with sympathy before watching Steve slide in next to you. His wounds had already been treated, since they were a bit more severe. “Do you want me to do them here, or would you feel more comfortable in the hospital?”

“Whichever gets me home quicker, I guess.” You answered, leaning into Steve slightly as he wrapped an arm around your shoulder. The process of getting stitches on your cheek was just as painful as you figured it would be when she said it, but you assumed that an infection on your face would have hurt a whole lot more. It was easier with Steve beside you, letting you grab onto his hand when you felt like the pain was a little too much.

“These are going to naturally dissolve in a couple of weeks, so you won’t need to worry about having them taken out or anything. Make sure to keep the wound clean, and if you have any infections, go straight to the hospital.” The EMT said to you, turning to look at Steve for a moment, almost like she was trying to silently convey to him that he should make sure you followed her instructions. “Do you have any other questions?”

“None that I can think of.”

“At least you can go through this with your boyfriend.” She said with a smile, once she had finished, before walking away to treat someone else. Your head nearly shot over to look at Steve immediately, who was looking at you with an equally nervous expression. You and Steve were close friends, best friends, but you weren’t dating. 

After a moment, a tiny smile graced his lips. It was nothing like what you were used to seeing from him, but you had both been through so much, that happy attitude was sort of lost on you both. The same tiny smile covered your own face as you stood up alongside him, keeping a light grasp on his hand while his arm remained on your shoulder. 

“Let’s go home.” He said, guiding you over to the car and letting you get into it. You would spend the night with him, just not wanting to be alone. Soon after, Robin would have no trouble getting you a job with her and Steve at Family Video - at least you could still work with your best friend.

Working with Steve at Family Video was somehow far different from working with him at Scoops Ahoy, more similar to going to school with you. You just couldn’t seem to shake the feeling that he couldn’t see you anymore, even though you spent so much time together. Even though you often laid in his bed and told each other joke after joke. Even with the trauma shared between you with the Upside Down, it felt like he couldn’t see you, and you just couldn’t place why.

It was late January as you walked out of your car and into the video store. Steve was meant to be off for the day, but he almost always needed to come in to cover for someone on his days off. It was like only three of you were running the store at this point, but you didn’t really complain too much about it. The snow on your coat was easily shaken off as you brought it to the office, hanging it on the coat rack before jumping as you felt a tap on your shoulder.

“Maybe you should do some paperwork.” Robin said, trying to stave off a laugh as you looked at her with, seemingly genuine, fear in your eyes. 

“Why?” You asked, less worried about her sneaking up on you and more worried about why she wanted you in the office. “Is there someone out there that I don’t like?” 

When you walked in, you had really been paying more attention to getting out of the snow than you had been to who or what was in the store. If she wanted you doing paperwork, there had to be something out there that you didn’t want to see. This was confirmed when she shut the office door, sitting down in one of the chairs as you reluctantly sat down as well.

“Can’t it be enough that paperwork needs to be done, and we apparently run this stupid store now?” She asked, though she could tell that there was no way that you were buying what she was selling. “Look, Steve is out there with some girl right now. And I don’t think you want to see it.”

“Why would I care? Steve’s my best friend.” But you couldn’t deny the strange feeling in your heart, what felt almost like someone had hit you in the chest with some sort of… knife or something. Like you’d been stabbed. 

“Don’t think I can’t see the way you look at him.” She said, nearly rolling her eyes. “I mean, just because you love him like a best friend doesn’t mean you can’t also love him… like that, you know? And I see how you look angry at those girls, you didn’t even look that annoyed when we were fighting a big monster in the mall.” 

“Robin, I absolutely do not want to date Steve.” You responded, brushing off her accusations without much of a thought to them. There was no possible way that you wanted to date Steve Harrington - it was bad enough that you’d become best friends with him after you spoke all of three times in high school. 

“Alright… well… the paperwork does need to be done and me and Steve did flip a coin and decided you should do it, but he said he’ll do half for you.” She said, standing up and quickly walking to the door. “And, besides, it’s cleaning day, so we’re doing you a favor.” 

Robin left promptly, leaving you nearly thanking her for leaving you to write down some numbers for a couple hours, less since Steve was offering to take over. Cleaning day was a nightmare. Every day, the store needed to be cleaned. but once a week, on the least busy day, the store needed to be deep cleaned. Every movie needed to be taken off the shelf, the glass needed to be crystal clear, and whatever weird drink or food residue was left over in the carpets needed to be scrubbed away. It was a nightmare, just so utterly boring anyone working would rather stand around at an empty register than do it. 

But as you sat there writing out numbers, copying down titles of movies, you should feel calm. Maybe you should feel irritated, or just wish that you were doing something more eventful and interesting. But you felt none of those things, the only feeling you had was confusion. You weren’t confused because of the paperwork, or even anything involving it. You were confused because you were becoming less confused.

Your feelings toward your best friend had been strange since he had been having more luck with women, since he had been going on more and more dates and getting to know more people. Since he had been inviting you over less, on account of spending more time with these girls.

He was your best friend, you should want him to be happy and find the person that he wants to spend his life with. But you couldn’t be happy for him, you could only feel relieved when he said that it wasn’t really working out with one of them, or that he didn’t think he was going to go out on another date with another. You only felt satisfied when you realized that they weren’t actually going to be a serious part of his life. Something that you ‘had to worry about’. But why should you be worried about someone you were friends with being in a relationship?

At first, you told yourself you were only nervous because you were used to having so much of his attention. Because you wouldn’t be able to talk to him as much as normal if he was in a serious relationship, but it was becoming clear that there was something more to it that you just couldn’t seem to put your fingers on. Something that had been deeply confusing you since you had started working at this place. 

But when Robin spoke to you, when she spoke to you about your feelings toward Steve and how transparent they had been, things got a lot less confusing.

Steve was always attractive, you knew that, everyone knew it. There was a reason he was so popular in high school. But you also didn’t really know him back then, you knew close to nothing about him. When you got close to him, as close as you were now, you sort of forgot about that attraction. Sure, there was some part of you that kept wondering what it would feel  like to kiss him, or another part of you that liked it when he held you that night at the mall after everything went down, but you had brushed that off as just you being curious. 

But it was making a lot more sense now, it made a lot more sense to you that you may have had actual feelings for him, rather than you just hating everyone who walked into your job. The clarity was refreshing, but the reality of it was even more crushing than the confusion. If Steve even felt remotely the same way, he wouldn’t be looking for all of these girls to date. There had never even been a moment where it seemed to you like he thought anything more of you than just a best friend. And the reality of the unrequited feelings you had for Steve was a lot more crushing than just not knowing what was going on inside of your head. 

The paperwork became your only refuge from your feelings as you continued to work through it, as you all but stuffed your nose onto the desk as you worked like a hound dog to get it done. You’d lost track of the time before you heard the knob jiggling, your hand tightening around your pen as you automatically went into fight mode. When you saw it was Steve on the other side of the door, you dropped the pen to the desk and let out a sigh of relief. 

“Sucks that we always have to be paranoid now.” Steve said, walking into the office and wrapping an arm around your shoulder in something of a hug. “I’m here to finish your work.”

“Our work.”

“Yeah, yeah. I’m here to relieve you, you should look happier.” He said, sitting beside you and grabbing the pen. “Why don’t you look happier?”

“Oh, I am, I’m just… I don’t want to clean. Maybe we can work together?” Of course, not wanting to clean wasn’t what was bothering you. Why you thought it would be a good idea to suggest that you spend more time with Steve, even though you had just realized that you had feelings for him, was nothing short of deeply confusing to you. 

“Sounds good, less work for me.” He said, clearly not seeing that there was something more bothering you. As you worked with him, though, he noticed something was wrong. You were both usually very talkative when you were together, there was a reason why you were best friends, after all, but you were completely and utterly silent. To the point that he would have forgotten that you were beside him had he not opted to keep his arm around your shoulder.

There was clearly something off with you, something that you had elected not to share with him. It was odd, there was never really anything you didn’t share with each other. You enjoyed sharing with each other, telling each other anything and everything that you could. But you were keeping something from him, something that he was going to need to get to the bottom of quickly. Whatever it was, he didn’t want you to suffer alone in silence. He would never want that for you. 

“Do you want to catch a movie later?” Steve asked, drawing you from your paperwork. “I got stood up, again.” Steve had both been having the best luck and the worst luck when it came to dating. The best luck, in the sense that it had been going incredibly poorly when he asked anyone out working at Scoops. But it was also rather bad, considering that nobody he was with was someone he could see himself dating seriously, and half of the girls he was talking to seemed to conveniently come up with plans that they had sprung on them the day they were supposed to go on a date.

He saw something strange on your face, some expression he had never seen before. Steve made a personal note in that moment that he needed to speak to Robin - maybe she knew what was going on with you. “I’m assuming you’re just offering because you already paid for tickets?”

“Yeah, it’s a premiere so I paid in advance. Just in case.” When there was two movie theaters in town, he never really had to worry about paying in advance. But then one of them got moved to Starcourt, and Starcourt got destroyed. But even as he had this casual talk with you, he could tell there was something afoot. 

“I mean, we work around movies every day so we should probably see them all, right?” 

“That’s the spirit.” 

You couldn’t help the smile that covered your face. Of course you wanted to spend time with Steve, you wished there were days you could just make plans together without worrying about him going on a date. But those days were more few and far inbetween than they had been your entire friendship. You wanted nothing more than for things to be the way they were, but you were realizing now that you wanted more than that.

The dates, you didn’t mind Steve going on dates. You just wished he was going on them with you, something you hadn’t realized until now. You missed him, you wished you were getting to spend as much time with him as all of the different girls he was talking to. But it seemed impossible, it seemed like something that was never going to happen again. Perhaps you shouldn’t have taken his clinginess for granted when you were working together at the mall. 

Once you were finished with your paperwork, you headed off to clean, and Steve headed off because he needed to ‘share the work with Robin’, whatever that meant. He was gone for a while, you couldn’t help but hope he was giving her advice with Vicki, who she found it impossible to shut up about half the time. It was a good twenty minutes before he came back, and when he did, there was something different in his eyes. Something renewed, something… completely unusual for Steve Harrington. He wasn’t looking at a single girl in the store, insane considering how many college girls were in town and visiting, looking through the horror section at this very moment. 

His eyes were on you, completely transfixed on you. But he said nothing, only joined you at the counter and started cleaning the candy shelves. “So, when we get out of here I was thinking we carpool and get dinner before the movie? I know you have stuff to change into at my place, since it’s in my dresser.” He said, completely disregarding his complete shift in attitude.

“We’re getting dinner and a movie?” You commented, raising your eyebrows as you turned back to look at him. “Is this a reservation you already made?”

“Hm? No. No. I was just… I just um… I figured you would get hungry and… I would get hungry and… maybe eating popcorn on an empty stomach would be bad for us.” He said, suddenly more nervous than you had ever expected him to be around you. You couldn’t help but wonder what he had said when he was in that room with Robin. 

But your thoughts were cut short as the four girls finally came up to you. “Is this one really scary? Ashley here is kinda wimpy.” The ginger girl in the front held out a copy of the Evil Dead, the other girls having picked out three different movies themselves. 

“I’d say… scary but not like… really scary.” Definitely not the scariest movie in your collection, but it wasn’t exactly the easiest watch for someone who’s ‘kinda wimpy’. 

As you continued to talk to them about the movies they picked out, helping them decide what to get next time they came in, you kept feeling as though Steve was going to pop up behind you at any second claiming that he needed to take over. As they all eventually left the store, you turned back to face Steve fully, expecting his eyes to be following them, only to find him continuing to clean the dusty candy bars. You could tell he’d been at it the entire time you were working, since he was almost finished. 

“You feeling okay, Steve? Four girls our age just asked for help with horror movies and you didn’t say anything.” You said, watching him. 

“Guess I don’t feel like flirting today.”

“But when I got here, Robin made it sound like you were flirting with every girl in the store.”

“Yeah, well… I don’t want to now.” 

You could only squint your eyes and look at Steve, wondering what he could possibly be hiding from you. A part of you wondering if Robin had told him to stop flirting in front of you, that it was upsetting you and making you not want to be at work or something. Perhaps he was just being polite, now that he knew about your feelings, and his dinner and a movie date were just going to be his way of breaking it to you gently. 

Either way, the day couldn’t have dragged on any longer before the night crew came in to relieve the three of your duties. The night crew being one singular guy named Jack, who somehow managed to get more done in an hour than you did in three. You could never understand him, or the way he worked, but you respected it. You let your car sit in the parking lot, knowing you would have Steve come and get it with you later, so you could go home. Your own, respective, home, after Steve inevitably breaks the news that he isn’t into you, to your face. 

“This movie is supposed to be pretty scary, so don’t be afraid to hide behind me.”

“I’ve seen more horror movies than you ever will, Harrington.” You teased, “I do wish I had popcorn to flick at you right now, though.” 

“You can’t flick popcorn at me, you’ll get us kicked out.” He answered, trying to sound all serious while only coming across as goofy. 

“You just don’t want popcorn in your hair.” You answered back, leaning back into the seat as you watched a smile spread across his face.

“You wouldn’t either if you spent as much time on it as I do.” 

“Nobody has ever spent as much time on their hair as you do.” You responded, glancing out of the window as a smile covered your lips as well. It didn’t take long for the two of you to arrive at his house, and even less time for you both to change into something appropriate for whatever restaurant it was that he had picked. 

As you walked into the place, you understood why he had pointed out the dress you had left at his place after going to dinner with Robin’s family. It wasn’t so formal that you looked like you were trying too hard, but it was just formal enough that you brought pajamas to change into the moment the dinner ended. The dress just ended up being forgotten at Steve’s since you knew you would be back for it eventually. 

But the restaurant was not what you were expecting. It was rather formal, not too much, but something that you definitely needed to dress up for to feel in place. Steve was dressed up a bit too, something you noticed rather quickly. It all seemed way too formal to be bringing your friend here, especially since you were both making minimum wage at a video store. 

“After you.” He said, looping around to your side of the car and opening the door for you, walking into the restaurant where the hostess greeted you and guided you to a table near the window. The restaurant was nearly full, but you noticed that he didn’t have a reservation once she asked, confirming that he had been telling you the truth about not making a reservation with some other girl before coming here with you. 

The entire dinner was everything you would expect from a date. You sat across from Steve and laughed and talked with him, the candle in the middle of the table being the only thing keeping you from reaching across it and ruffling that perfect hair of his. It was clear to anyone around you that you were on a date, but it wasn’t clear to you, and it was only partially clear to Steve. Anyone around you would just see a happy young couple, enjoying their dinner and not having a care in the world about anything else. But to you, you were just sitting out with your friend and pretending that he wouldn’t be going on some other date with some girl tomorrow. 

By the time your check came, you had almost completely forgotten about the movie before Steven glanced at his watch and his eyes nearly bugged out of his head.

“Shit! Shit, I forgot we were going to the movies.” You glanced at his watch as well and quickly collected your things before dashing out of the restaurant, trying your best to not trip on your heels.

“Come on! We have to hurry or we’re gonna miss it!”

“It starts in five minutes-”

“Yeah, so we better hurry and we’ll get there during previews.” You were both practically sprinting out of the car, ignoring the confused glances of the people around you as they waited to be seated. You were in the car before you even had time to think about how odd you both must have looked, and he was screeching out as he drove to the theater as quickly as the law would allow him to drive. 

Once you got there, Steve wrapped his arm around your waist so you wouldn’t trip in your shoes as you both speed walked into the theater. Steve held out his tickets for the teller, who seemed less than thrilled to be there as they quickly rang out your tickets and sent you to your theater. Just as you had predicted, the previews were still playing as you squeezed into the theater, picking a seat closer to the top, but not too high, since those seats were all taken at this point. 

“Remind me to check my watch more.” He said, once he finally sat down. Steve was a little out of breath, as were you, but that only added to the experience of it. 

“Where’s the fun in that?” You asked him, leaning back in your seat as the movie started, less than a minute after you sat down. It took a moment for you both to catch your breaths, for the tiny bit of sweat accumulating on your skin to go away. By the time you were completely calm, Steve had wrapped an arm around your neck. 

It was like an instinct, as your head rested against his shoulder. He held you a little tighter, and though you were physically affectionate before, something about this just felt a little different. You couldn’t place what it could possibly be that would feel different, though you imagined it was all in your head - different because you knew you had feelings for him, not different because anything had actually changed. 

The movie was a little scarier than you had anticipated it being, but it wasn’t so bad that you felt the need to hide behind Steve. Even though he tried to hide it every time you glanced over at him, it was incredibly clear that he was probably more scared of it than you were. He’d brush it off with a fake laugh, but you could see right through him. It was difficult to stifle the laughter every time he tried to play his fear off as boredom, but you did it to maintain his dignity anyway. 

Even though it was funny to you, just seeing try to play it off, you couldn’t help but let yourself grow at ease in his arms as they tightened around you every time he got a little nervous. You let your head rest underneath his chin, rather than on his shoulder, and Steve only responded by pulling you a little closer. No words were spoken, since it’s not nice to speak in movie theaters, but none really needed to be spoken. This wasn’t the first time you were physically affectionate with your best friend, far from it, you just hoped that it wasn’t going to be the last. 

The movie was going too quickly for your liking. It was easy to tell it was coming to an end, but you wanted it to continue on for as long as possible so you could remain this close to Steve. The idea of parting from him wasn’t one that you liked, you couldn’t even say you were particularly comfortable with it. But once the credits rolled, and you detangled from each other, you reluctantly knew that it was over. 

You kept a happy face on, though, as you both walked out. Your attention was only caught from your slightly negative thoughts as you felt Steve’s hand in your own, as you looked over at him and noticed nerves behind his face.

“It wasn’t that scary, Stevie.” You said, trying to stifle a laugh, even though you felt yourself growing nervous as well, only because he was holding your hand. 

“It’s not…” He seemed to be at a loss for words, trying to come up with something but not being able to speak. “This is so much harder than flirting with those other girls.” 

“What… what are you talking about?” You couldn’t help but feeling of pain that covered your body. Was he saying it was hard to talk to you? As you tried to pull your hand away, you only heard him groan in a way that could only be described as defeat. You felt him tug you by the hand, before you were chest to chest. 

There was very little time to question what was going on as Steve leaned down. His lips brushed your own very timidly, but the brush was enough to get you to push your face against his in return. The kiss was slow, incredibly experimental. His plush lips were everything you had ever dreamed about when you let your mind wander, in fact, you would dare say it was better. Steve was incredibly slow and gentle, as though he believed he could break the moment, break you, if he kissed you too hard. Like he was just trying to test the waters, before he went all in. 

Once he finally pulled away, his forehead remained against your own. “I talked to Robin earlier, she said that she could tell you… she said you seemed jealous around other girls.” He was still rather awkward when he spoke, like he was nervous to be saying any of this. “The reason I never asked you out was because if you said no… if they said no, it would sting a little, if you said no, I would…” 

“I get it, it’s okay.” It was clear he wasn’t fully ready to admit everything, to put it completely on the table. He was nervous speaking his true emotions, something you had no issue picking up on. “Truthfully, I didn’t realize why I got so jealous until I talked to Robin this morning.” 

Steve smiled, pressing a gentle kiss to your cheek before pulling back. “I guess this is her doing, then?” 

“Yeah, she’ll only have herself to blame when we sneak off to the mop shed.” 

“And she has to run the store on a Saturday night?” 

“Mhm. Poor Robin, but she was asking for this.” 

Steve guided you back to the car, sitting with you for a moment before turning to look at you. “Do you wanna come back with me?” 

You nodded, letting your hand find his once again. The drive was always short back to Steve’s house, it seemed shorter every time you went there. Nobody seemed to be home, you remembered his parents were on vacation for the week, leaving him there by himself. 

“Be honest, did you only want me to come back with you because you’re nervous after the movie?” You asked, watching him fidget in his seat for a minute before he shallowly nodded.

“Yeah, yeah, that was part of it, okay. But, I did also want to ask you if…if I didn’t have to keep flirting with girls at work?” Steve seemed to be having trouble spitting out the question he really meant, that he wanted you to be the person he was looking for. But you understood what he was trying to say, how could you not? 

“I’d really like it if you didn’t flirt with any girls at work.” You responded, watching a smile cross over his face again. Steve leaned over to kiss you for a moment. It was short, sweet, like he was just trying to show you that he was grateful that you understood what he was trying to say. You were both in the house in a heartbeat, collapsing beside each other in the bed. Though, this time as Steve held you close in his bed, it was much different from the last time.

The last time he held you like this, with his bodies tangled together, you had both fought like hell to not die. Just friends, no idea you had any feelings for him. But now you knew, now things were different and you were in an actual relationship - new territory, but territory you couldn’t say you were afraid of. You’d been through hell and back with Steve, how much harder could a new relationship be?

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

<3

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, quick, 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 Munson’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.

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steve harrington with a golden retriever girlfriend headcanons??

hellloooooo so. so i am not good at headcanons but i did write a little scenario because the idea is so cute love u <3 golden retriever gf x completely in love steve 0.8k

"Steve!" you exclaim, bursting into the shop with a huge smile on your face. 

You stride fast between shop patrons to where he's sorting through returned tapes. He stands up knowing what you're wanting and feels only mildly winded when you leap up into his arms, hands steadfast around his neck as he bends under your weight. 

He gives you a good squeeze, always happy to see you. 

"You're never gonna guess what I got," you say into his neck before pulling back and dropping onto your own two feet again. 

"What'd you get, doll?" 

You dig into your purse and pull out a box of Swedish fish, brandishing them like they're made from gold. "For you," you say, passing him the box offhandedly. You skirt around him to where Robin is sitting behind the counter on a stool. "And for you, my favourite Family Video employee."

You pass her a pack of twizzlers. She grins. "Thanks, Y/N." 

"You're welcome. You know, I saw, like, a huge ant hill outside, they were climbing up my socks by the time I remembered they could climb. And- Steve, what are you doing?" 

Steve rolls his eyes and guides you back, hands on your hips and lifting. You get the picture and kick off the ground, sitting on the counter with your legs swinging. 

He catches your foot in his hand and sure enough finds you've still got at least a hand's count of ants on your shoe and sock. He wrinkles his nose. "Baby." 

"I thought my socks were itchy." 

He starts pulling ants off of your sock, enamoured and exhausted with you. You quickly forget what he's doing, leaning backwards to talk to Robin with your head upside down. 

"How's it going?" 

"Slow day, slow Steve. Same as usual," she says. 

You lean a little too far and would've likely tipped off or almost when Steve grabs your thigh and holds you down. 

"Slow Steve," you giggle. 

He shakes an ant gently off of his hand and onto the floor. "Nice, babe." 

"Steve, don't, they're gonna get crushed," you say, having sat up to watch his process. 

"They're gonna bite you. Doesn't it freak you out, bugs all over you?" 

"Not really." 

Steve huffs. "Typical," he says under his breath, continuing to steal ants off of your sock. You get distracted by the radio, humming along and then quietly singing to the cheerful pop tune. 

Steve looks up at you from the ground, your carefree smile, so pretty and so charming, bubbly and beautiful. He gets distracted, watching as you karaoke the rest of the song like a lovesick fool.

When he looks down most of the ants, maybe five or six, have crawled into his arm hair. He shakes his arm hard and shivers as they fall away, jumping up onto his feet and brushing himself down, phantom ants crawling all over him. 

You beckon him forward worriedly. "You have one-" you gesture to his face. He rushes to push between your thighs, eyes closed and face inclined to yours. 

"Get it for me," he demands. 

Your hand cradles his face. You brush your thumb over his cheek. "Huh, must've been a trick of the light," you say after a moment. You squeeze his cheek. 

He opens his eyes to glare at you, finds it softening fast at your loving smile. "You're pretty," you say. 

He throws his head back, hand waving at you. "Get outta here, Y/N." 

You beam at him and jump off of the counter. Steve winces for your poor ankles though you don't flinch, straightening up your bright outfit with a flourish of the hands. 

"How do I look? Good enough to go play a game of Dig-Dug?" you ask. 

He's genuine when he says, "You look adorable." 

Robin groans and gags and Steve doesn't care, smirking to himself as he wraps his arms around you for a goodbye hug. Always strange to find himself missing your hugs so quickly. 

You rub the side of your head against his chest and he can't help the boyish rush of heat to his cheeks when you kiss his throat. 

"You smell so good. Like lavender. Are you wearing lavender? Did you switch colognes?" 

"I did," he says. "Obsession. You picked it, babe." 

"It's good." 

You sniff him loudly. He blushes worse, looking away from you for something to save his heart from giving out. He's punished by some higher power when he meets Robin's patronising gaze, though he knows she really likes you. It's his happiness she can't abhor. 

"Okay, bye Steve," you say succinctly, giving him one last squeeze and then making quick time out of the store, leaving behind only your smell and the lingering heat of your grip. 

Oh, and the Swedish fish. And a few ants. 

1986: A Love Odyssey | Steve Harrington x Reader

Summary: You work at the local cinema in Hawkins, and Steve is starstruck when he first sees you. [1.8k]

Warnings: 16+ for light steaminess, cursing, no spoilers, fluff.

❃❃❃❃❃

The first time Steve Harrington saw you, he had come to watch Top Gun with Robin.

He entered the cinema as per usual, striding across the red velvet carpet towards the snack stand with Robin in tow. They were bickering about who was more attractive, Meg Ryan or Rebecca De Mornay, and how unfair it was that Tom Cruise got to kiss both of them.

But as soon as Steve looked up to place his order, his hand already reaching for the wallet in his back pocket mechanically, he was dumbfounded. He blanked at the conversation he was having, jaw slightly gaping open, staring at your face across the counter. Your rosy cheeks. Your soft hair, despite the tangles. Your necklace, resting against your collarbones. Your endless eyes.

He was so in awe that he didn’t register the confused furrow of your brows, the small smile on your lips, the light giggle as you repeated, “Hello? Are you OK? Can I get you anything?”

It took Robin’s sharp elbow hitting him in the ribcage for him to fall back down to Earth. He grabbed his side, muttering, “what was that for?”

Robin simply nudged her head towards you, then behind her at the developing queue.

Yet, once again, Steve was like a fish out of water when he looked at you.

“He’s trying to think of a pick-up line, so while he’s contemplating, which, I can assure you, is certainly a strain for him, could I get a bucket of popcorn and a Coke?” Robin said.

While Steve grumbled a “shut up,” under his breath, you just smiled at Robin, nodding, your face bright. You then looked expectantly at Steve, slightly shy.

“Ditto.”

You pushed your hair behind your ear, reading out the price, rushing to grab their orders as Steve placed the money on the counter.

“Enjoy the movie,” you beamed, and Steve would have swore his heart stopped. As you reached to give them back their change, Steve grabbed your wrist across the counter.

“No need. Keep it, doll face.”

As the pair headed towards their screening, Robin stared at Steve, bemused. “What was that?”

“What was what?” he feigned.

“Mr. Steve Harrington, flirter supreme, wooer of all women, was just left speechless,” Robin guffawed.

“She’s different,” was all he replied, suddenly slapping himself on the forehead, “shit, I forgot to ask her name.”

“Y/N,” Robin smirked. When Steve turned, confused, she added, “it said so on her name tag. You're not the only one who thinks she's cute.”

❃❃❃❃❃

The second time Steve saw you, he was with Dustin, Lucas and Mike. They were watching Stand by Me, rated R for some reason, which thus required a guardian. Dustin had effortlessly persuaded Steve to join them.

Steve had gone to the movie house several times since your first encounter, hoping to spot you again. But you were never seen, either because you were working 'behind the scenes,' or because it was your day off.

This time, he was ready. The three boys stood behind him as he approached you, hand combing his hair back, signature smile plastered on his lips. His confidence was only boosted when he saw the knowing look in your eyes: recognition. You had remembered him.

“Hi there,” you said, “how can I help you?”

“Look, about last time, I-”, Steve was stuttering, he had to look down, “I came prepared, today, I-I made this whole speech weeks ago, even practiced in front of my goddamn mirror, I just, whenever I look at you I-”

Glancing up, he saw your eyes searching his.

“'Is that canon fire, or is it my heart pounding?'” You whispered. Steve looked incredulous. “Ingrid Bergman. Casablanca. Here,” you ripped a piece of paper from a discarded receipt beside you, scribbling your house phone number. “Give me a call sometime.”

“Can you pinch me? You’re just so damn cute, I swear I’m dreaming,” he leaned his elbow against the counter, your eyes locking together as you giggled.

“What’s your name, dream-boy?”

“Steve. Steve Harrington.”

“Nice to meet you, Steve.”

“Y/N, right?” he gestured towards you name tag. You nodded. “Beautiful name for a beautiful lady.”

The two of you could have stayed like that for eternity, had it not been for the boys nagging, “Steve, hurry up, the movie’s gonna start!”

As you took their orders, grabbing their snacks, you wished them a pleasant film, smiling at Steve.

Walking away, Steve was starstruck. The boys were teasing him, but he was simply starstruck.

❃❃❃❃❃

The third, fourth, fifth and sixth times Steve saw you, he didn’t care what film he was going to see.

For weeks, the pair of you had been talking on the phone into the early hours of the morning. Steve felt like he could listen to your rambling forever. You mostly prattled on about films, and even though Steve often had no clue what you were talking about, he just nodded along, “yeah, definitely, I totally agree.”

He cherished every word you spoke, the way you pronounced each letter, your cadences and rhythms.

He particularly adored making you laugh. “I look a little like Tom Cruise, don’t I? It’s the hair. Listen, listen. ‘Just take those old records off the shelf. I sit and listen to them by myself.’”

The bubbling joy slipping out of your lips, a smile audible in your voice. Sheer happiness.

And you were new to Hawkins. You had no prejudices or preconceived notions. You listened to Steve attentively, about his absent parents, about his failures in romance. You formed your own image of this amazing young man, uninfluenced by any rumours about what he was like in high school. “Steve, who even cares what you were like then, when this is who you are now!”

Every time Steve came to the cinema, you both exchanged a few flirtatious remarks across the counter. He watched your every movement, your every gesture. The nervous tapping of your foot. The timid way you pushed your hair back. The way you hid your hands behind your face when you grew embarrassed.

He didn’t care about what he was watching. After entering the auditorium, the only thing he looked forward to was strolling out of it, towards the exit, and waving you a small goodbye. For at those moments, no matter what rude customer you were serving, you smiled at him, practically bouncing with joy.

❃❃❃❃❃

The seventh time Steve saw you, it was upon your invitation.

During his previous visit, halfway through the trailers, while munching on his popcorn Steve nearly choked on a piece of paper. Removing it with his fingers and straining to see what it was, he saw a note: “Meet me here. Tonight. 10PM. Don’t be late.”

He knew it was you, recognised your handwriting even. He was so anxious, willing the time to pass quicker.

At 10PM, he arrived. There was a late-night horror film screening that had just started. Entering through the glass doors, hair meticulously arranged and prepared (it had taken hours, but god bless Farah Fawcett), he saw you on the other end of the hall.

“Hey, beautiful,” he waved, walking towards you slowly.

But you weren’t in the mood for slow. You ran up to him, enveloping him in a warm hug as he swayed you back and forth.

“You smell good,” you laughed, pulling away.

“You look good. Great, actually, you’re gonna slay us all dead,” he remarked, as a crimson blush adorned your cheeks.

“Shut up and follow me,” you turned, about to walk off, but then extended your palm backwards, “and could you hold this for me?”

He chuckled, intertwining your fingers with his as you gently pulled him along.

“Where are we going? A hidden cave?” Steve questioned, examining his surroundings, the endless, dark hallways of the cinema.

“It’s a secret,” you whispered, “and shut up, nobody’s supposed to know you’re here.”

“Don’t worry. I’m stealthy, like a ninja,” Steve joked quietly.

You promptly opened a barely noticeable door, moving out of the way so Steve could see. “Ta da! Fuck, no, wait, now!”

Whatever Steve was expecting, this wasn’t it. It was a screening room - the size of a broom closet. You were providing the single light source through the flashlight in your hand. The room could only fit a film projector on a flimsy table, a chair alongside the projector, and a cabinet. Strewn all around the room were rolls of film, and movie posters: Singin’ in the Rain, On the Waterfront, Halloween, Double Indemnity, Citizen Kane, Psycho… there was not a single empty space on the wall.

“We screen our films here,” you explained, “tonight is Poltergeist. I already set it up, it’s running, but I thought you might want to see.”

You had wrung your hands together, your gaze falling to the ground, and Steve noticed a minor timidness.

“Can I go in?” his eyes were scanning the room. You handed him the flashlight.

“Of course, of course, sit down. Sorry, it’s not luxurious… or big. But this is the projector. You can see the film through the little hole in the wall, or the eyehole on the camera.”

Steve glanced at the darkened auditorium, the audience underneath him, the film playing on the screen. He heard the collective screams and gasps at each scare.

As Steve sat down, you shut the door behind you, awkwardly standing next to him.

That is, before he turned off the flashlight. Before he gently placed his hands on your hips. You held his shoulder for balance as he pushed down, signaling for you to sit on his lap, straddling him, facing each other.

“Have you seen Poltergeist?” you asked, feeling blindly for his face. You traced and followed his features with your fingers: his defined jaw, rubbing the light stubble; his hairline, as you scratched the nape of his neck; the outline of his lips, slightly open.

Steve never replied. As you caressed his face, he wrapped his arms around your waist. Instinctively, you both leaned in, searching for each other’s lips. His found yours first, placing a kiss on the side corner of your mouth, then melting into your lips.

Your chest was flush with his, your eyes closed, your eyelashes tickling his face. You cupped his jaw, pulling him even closer.

Lips already swollen, gasping, you reluctantly pulled away from him. Steve held you, his lips traveling ravishingly down your neck, to your collarbone, nibbling lightly, leaving a mark.

“You know what Clark Gable said?” You gasped out, chest heaving as Steve’s hands played with the hemline of your shirt.

Steve merely groaned against your skin, his teeth refusing to leave the silkiness.

“He told Vivien Leigh,” you could barely speak steadily, “’You need kissing badly. That’s what’s wrong with you. You should be kissed often, and by someone who knows how.’”

“Smart man,” Steve quickly pulled away to pull his own shirt off his head, the heat of the room due to its confinement, the operating projector and both of your arousal, leaving him sweaty. “Smarter than that Sherlock Homes dude.”

You rubbed your palms up the hairs on his warm chest, resting a hand against his heart, the other reaching his face. “That’s you, Steve Harrington. And I’m gonna kiss the hell out of you. I’m the Clark to your Vivien.”

“I’m not complaining.”

❃❃❃❃❃

Thank you for reading! x

talking in your sleep - steve harrington

pairing: steve harrington x best friend!reader

synopsis: you accidentally confess your feelings to steve during movie night—while being asleep.

word count: 1.4k

warnings: swearing, making out, slightly suggestive

“Steve, I really don’t get why you brought a scary movie if you know you can’t take them.”

“Wrong, I can take them,” he scoffed. “Plus, you like them. There has to be a balance in this friendship.”

You snorted as you looked down to where his fingers curled around your duvet. “You’re gonna make a hole in my fuckin’ blanket from how tight you’re holding onto it.”

Steve’s grip loosened as he huffed quietly, dipping his hand into the bowl of chips and shoving some into his mouth. “Not true at all.”

Movie nights at your house had become tradition ever since he started working at Family Video; he’d bring a movie or two over every Friday, but rarely ever was it a horror film—mostly because he knew you’d tease the hell out of him every time he jumped or let out a little yelp, but sometimes he caved in for your viewing pleasure.

“It’s okay to admit it, Harrington,” you teased. “I’ll always protect you.”

“You’re annoying, you know that? And last time I checked, I was the one who saved your ass from a Demodog.”

“Demodog this, Demodog that, it doesn’t matter. I’m the only one who can protect you from—wait, what’s his name again?”

“Leatherface,” he replied dryly.

“Yeah, him. See, that's why you couldn’t pay me to go to Texas.”

He grumbled something under his breath but you just laughed in response, popping a Dorito into your mouth as a blood-curdling scream came from the TV and rang throughout the dark room. It barely got a reaction out of you, but Steve had jumped and let out a string of curses directed at the blonde behind the screen.

“Y’know Stevie, sometimes you sound like that,” you mumbled through a mouthful of cheesy chips. “I think you’d do well with the horror chicks.”

“Yeah, well sometimes I think you like making me mad on purpose,” he began, wrapping an arm around your neck until his bicep and forearm squeezed it softly.

You began clawing at his arm dramatically, taking in exaggerated breaths. “Harrington, you’re gonna kill me!” you exclaimed.

His arm loosened but he let it hang, still holding you close as his hand came down to rest near your chest. “Good, I’ll never have to watch another scary movie again,” he grumbled.

You couldn’t think of a comeback as you peered down at his hand, the contact making you go quiet. The ticking of his watch was much more audible when up close, and his usually kempt hair was slightly mussed from moving around in the bed, but he still looked so good. Being this close to Steve had never been a problem either, but nowadays you could feel your heartbeat quicken with every small detail on him that you were able to notice.

You went back to watching the movie instead of him, clearing your throat softly as he started to move the loose material of your t-shirt—or maybe it was Steve’s, you couldn’t remember—between his thumb and pointer finger. After a few more minutes your eyes began to feel heavy, drowsiness washing over you as your cheek slowly pressed into his side.

“Finish without me,” you murmured, bringing the blanket up to your shoulders.

Steve didn’t have any time to protest, a quiet ‘shit’ leaving his mouth when he saw your eyes shut and face relax as sleep overtook your body. He reached for the remote on the bedside table and lowered the volume, anticipating more ungodly screams that would likely wake you up.

A funny feeling ran through his body at the sight of you pressed against him, your lips parted and an arm curled against his stomach beneath the blanket. The glow of the TV illuminated your face, eyelashes casting shadows on the tops of your cheeks. These moments of silence (as silent as it could get with a scary movie playing) were rare, incessant bickering and laughing all he could hear when he thought about you.

The moment was cut short when the unmistakable mumble of his name came tumbling out of your lips. He stared down at you, eyebrows furrowed together as he called your name to try and get a response out of you. Steve was used to you talking in your sleep during sleepovers, but it was usually incoherent nonsense about whatever movie you had watched earlier in the night. He moved to fully lay you on the bed, resting his weight on his palm while he waited with bated breath for you to say something again.

A few seconds passed and you nestled yourself deeper into the bed, voice muffled as you spoke into the pillow. “Really like you.”

“You’re kidding.” His voice came out a whisper, eyes widened as he shook your shoulder softly.

After no reaction from you, he reached over to turn the lamp on, a warm glow flooding the bed. The sudden light made you squint, body stirring beneath the blankets and burrowing yourself further into them.

“You never stop talking but now you do? You’re unbelievable,” he mumbled.

You swatted at his body, eyes squeezed shut. “I’m trying to sleep, Steve. Please shut up.”

“No c’mon, sit up.”

You complied reluctantly, eyes low as you sat against the headboard, tucking your legs beneath you. He tried to hide the smile that crept onto his lips at the sight of you; disheveled hair, a yawn pulling your mouth open, and a wrinkled t-shirt that was—yeah, his.

“Stop staring and tell me what’s so important that you had to wake me up, Harrington.”

Steve scooted closer, his thigh brushing against yours as he cleared his throat. “You were uh, talking in your sleep again.”

“Seriously? I do that every movie night.” You crossed your arms, scowling at his reason for waking you up.

“No I know,” he said defensively, “but you said my name this time.”

He watched as your eyes widened, the glower you had fading away into an expression of surprise.

“What did I, uh, say?”

“I mean, it was kinda… this is gonna sound dumb, okay—”

“Spit it out!”

“You said you really like me?” Steve hadn't meant for it to sound like a question, as if you’d really know what you were saying while unconscious.

“Does it… sound dumb?” you asked softly. “The idea, I mean.”

“Well you’re my… my best friend. I don’t think it’s that far off, right?”

“Yeah it’s not, I think.” You let out a nervous laugh, picking at the hem of the sleeping shorts you wore. After a short pause, you spoke. “I actually do like you, Harrington.”

He nodded and rolled his lips, trying to conceal a smile. “Just for the record, I like you too. I think.”

“Oh, you think.”

“No, no, I’m sure. But can I… double check?” he asked cheekily.

You rolled your eyes but nodded nonetheless, heartbeat pounding against your chest as he brought his hand up to cup your cheek.

His lips felt soft when he pressed them against yours, the smell of his shampoo and cedarwood cologne flooding the air around you as he pulled you closer. Raising yourself onto your knees, you pushed him back with your body, his hands coming down to steady your hips.

Steve let himself fall back, a soft groan disappearing against your lips as he hit the sheets. His hands tugged you closer, gripping your t-shirt the same way he gripped your duvet earlier in the night. He pulled away and trailed kisses down the side of your mouth to your neck, his rosy lips soft and wet against your burning skin.

You let out a soft laugh when you felt his eyelashes bat against your skin as he blinked, the ticklish feeling a funny contrast to the fire that swirled in your stomach.

When Steve finally separated his lips from your skin he stared up at you with an impish grin, but his eyes held an enamored look that caused a wave of heat to crawl up your neck. His hands ran up and down your body, fingers softly pulling at the waistband of your shorts.

“Excited to announce I’m very convinced, and I’d love to do that again.”

“Oh, again? Have you no self control?”

“Mhm, none at all. I also couldn’t help but notice you’re wearing my shirt,” he noted, “mind if I take it off?”

“You’re sick, Harrington!”

© 2022 KIWICIDER - all rights reserved. do not copy, translate, modify, repost, or claim as yours.

𝐍𝐎𝐓 𝐅𝐀𝐑 𝐎𝐅𝐅.

—pairings: steve harrington x female!reader

—summary: when steve struggles to confess his feelings to y/n, the children help.

—warnings: a soft, very soft and stuttery steve! bickering and humour.

—word count: 3.6k

—additional notes: i hope whoever reads enjoys <33 feedback always appreciated :))

Steve was growing more and more frustrated, hands stilling as they hold the money he’s been trying to count for over five times. However, he is constantly being interrupted while doing so. Not by customers… well, not the usual ones anyway.

Keep reading

I’m cryinggggg

𝐫𝐢𝐝𝐞 𝐚 𝐰𝐚𝐯𝐞 | 𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐯𝐞 𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐭𝐨𝐧 𝐱 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

summary jealousy makes people do crazy things. when steve finds out you’re going on a date with eddie munson, he devises a plan involving one pair of binoculars, one robin, four adopted children and an important question. [7k]

warnings gn!reader, ditzy reader, protective steve, childhood friends to lovers, pining steve, mutual pining, fluff, love confessions, slight hurt/comfort, soft steve, steves pov, eddie fucking munson ♡ tw for toaster bathtub joke

𓆩❤︎𓆪

Steve knows you're outside not because you told him you'd be visiting him at work today, but because you're talking to yourself. You quieten as you pull open the door, a smile on your face that hasn't changed since he first met you in the third grade. Some kid had pushed you down and when he'd asked if you were okay you'd smiled just like that, like you hadn't been pushed at all. 

"What are you talking about?" he asks lightly. 

You stop in the middle of the store and blink. "What?" 

He skirts around the front desk and wraps you up in a hug. You're still at first like you usually are, though you slowly relax under his touch and hug back. 

"What were you saying? Before you came in?" he asks, rubbing your back with both arms. 

"Um… I don't really remember." 

Steve holds you at arm's length to assess your face. You're lying to him. He can tell from the way your top lip twitches towards your nose, almost pouting. 

You drop your arms from his waist and take a step back. Steve has years of knowledge on your whims and whiles and is reluctant to let you move away from him just yet, his hand clasped loosely around your wrist. 

You smile and your hands float at your sides like lily pads bobbing in the air. He decides not to pry, returning to his station behind the Family Video desk. You hop up onto the counter and watch him from over your shoulder. 

"Where's Robin?" you ask. 

"I'm starting to think you like her more than me." 

You smile at him softly and he doesn't know what it means. It's alarming. Robin appears from the backroom before he can work himself up over it, a crate of tapes in her arms. 

She groans as she puts them down on the counter. "I miss Scoops Ahoy." 

"Cute uniforms," you mumble.

"It's not the uniforms I miss," Robin says, letting her forehead fall to the counter. "My arms hurt. I'm not cut out for manual labour. If Steve were a better man he'd do all the heavy lifting for me." 

"Where's the equality in that?" Steve asks, looking to you to see if he's made you laugh. 

He has. Your lips quirk up into a startled smile as a rush of breath escapes you, a lilting miracle of sound. 

He realises then that he's doing something he's not allowed to do and decides to be a better man. "I'll do the rest, Robs." 

Robin looks up, surprised at his charity. "You will?" she asks, not trusting his genuineness. 

"Sure. Keep Y/N entertained while I'm gone." 

Once he's securely in the backroom he starts to freak out. He's been harbouring a mess of feelings for you ever since he hit puberty but has discarded them time and time again. Your friendship is longstanding and special to him, even when closeness with you has been hard to obtain. Not because you're purposefully distant, but because you're a total dreamer. 

Head in the clouds your entire life, Steve has wrangled through hoops to try and protect you from bullies, from bad friends, from your own distraction; you forget to eat, you're lucky you graduated because your attention span for anything that doesn't interest you is non-existent, and you hate parties so your circle is a closed loop consisting of just Steve. 

Now you've both graduated there's a lot of time to be spent together. 

Steve is suffering through it. His life feels like a constant game of look but don't touch. 

That might be unfair. He's definitely very touchy. 

You're giggling to yourself as he carries the second box of tapes in and heaves it down by the first. Robin's laughter is much more evil. 

"What's funny?" he asks suspiciously. 

"I'm giving Y/N tips." 

"Tips?" he asks, so used to Robin's absurdity that he starts to unpack his second box, elbows brushing Robin's as she hums. 

"Mm-hm." She taps her nails over a plastic case and leans towards him. "Boy tips." 

"And what would you know about boys?" he asks her. 

"I'm not stupid. Boys are like… frogs." 

"Frogs," Steve repeats dryly. 

"Slimey. Predictable. Easily disected." 

"Green," you say seriously. 

Steve chokes on a laugh and drops the tape in his hand back into the box of new arrivals to cover his mouth with a fist. 

"Babe, what?" he asks. 

You look at him and shake your head lightly. He knows he's not gonna get any answers from you, trying for nonchalance as he asks, "Boy tips? For who?" 

"They have a date." 

"You do?" Steve asks you. He almost snaps his neck. Robin coughs to cover a laugh.

A knife in his chest. Twisting. Steve's definitely been stabbed. He looks down to his sternum and doesn't find a wound.  

"Why didn't you tell me?" he asks, pretending that's why his lungs have exploded. He's gonna suffocate to death any second now. 

"I didn't think you'd have any boy tips," you say, clearly surprised at his surprise. 

Whatever. Steve takes a huge breath in through his nose and becomes your friend again, rather than a jealous idiot. 

"Y/N," he says, "I don't know if you've noticed, but I am a boy." 

"I've noticed." 

"So I know what boys like." 

"No, you know what you like," Robin says. "You don't know what Eddie Munson likes. You're different genres." 

"You're going on a date with Eddie Munson?" he asks you, almost shouting. Not his smoothest moment.

"Friday," you say, in the sometimes infuriating way that you do, like you have no indication that he's shocked. And he's shocked. 

"When did he ask you out?" Steve asks. 

Robin smirks behind her hand. Steve would love it if she had, like, a miniscule amount of compassion. An atom's worth, for his struggle.  

"I asked him," you say. 

Steve needs to flee. He can't because he would look insanely obvious so he cracks on his customer service smile and tries to stop asking questions. 

He fails. "You like Eddie Munson?"

"I don't know. That's why I'm going on a date." 

An insane wave of jealousy sloshes around inside him. Or maybe the slurpee he'd had a half hour ago. Whatever it is, he's nauseous. 

He's also confused (a common theme when it comes to you.) He'd had no clue you were dating, or looking to date, no clue this was a lane that was open. And you're so pretty, so magnetic, so disgustingly special and this Munson kid is gonna snap you right up if he has any sense at all. 

Steve isn't proud of anything that he does next. 

"I heard he's a drug dealer," he says. 

Your eyes are wide. Not in horror, as he'd hoped, but puzzlement. "Is he?" 

"For sure. The devil's lettuce, Mary Jane, marijuana, everything." 

"I thought they were all the same," you say, perplexed, your voice like an ebbing wave. 

They are all the same. He was hoping you didn't know that. "Right. What if he gets you hooked on something?" 

Robin frowns at him. "Since when are you so judgemental? We've been high together. Like, fifty times." 

He steps on her foot. Robin, unused to him fighting back so quickly, gasps in outrage and steps on his foot right back. What ensues is an undignified battle of shoes that has him throwing his arm out and hitting her in the stomach. 

"What's your problem?" she asks, eyebrows pinched. 

He holds his hands up in surrender. "Sorry! I think you broke my foot." 

He flinches when he remembers you're there and watching, only you're not there and you're definitely not watching, having made your way to the two boxes of new movies on the counter. You're sorting through them slowly and singing something to yourself under your breath so quietly he can barely decipher the words. The loudest part is your inhales, familiar, small intakes of air. 

"I told her boys like it when you slip them the tongue," Robin whispers smugly.

Steve steps on her foot again and gets promptly slapped in the arm, hard enough to ache. 

Later, when Robin's left and the store's finally closing and you're waiting at the door for Steve to drive you home, he tries to slander Eddie again. He almost feels bad. 

"You know he's still in high school, right? Isn't that a little young for you?" he asks. 

He flicks up the collar of his jacket and switches off the neon lights. You hold the door open, leaning against it with your back arched, like a doll that's fallen down. He pokes the naked skin you've accidentally exposed, a taunting sliver of hip, as he walks past you. 

"He's twenty." 

Again, Steve knew that. He was just hoping you didn't. 

"The whole still being in high-school thing doesn't bug you?" he asks as he locks the door. 

You shift from foot to foot beside him, cold now that the sun has disappeared for the night. You shove your hands deep into your pockets and kick the floor. 

"I don't know," you say. 

He feels bad for trying to dissuade you when you sound like that, insecure. 

Despite his selfish wants, he says, "No, I mean. It's totally fine. You're the same age." 

"Right," you agree quickly. 

"Right," he echoes. 

The two of you climb into the BMW and the silence feels unnatural. Conversation between the two of you has always been easy. Now it's stilted. 

He sighs, scrubbing a hand through his hair furiously and starting the car. 

"You know… I've heard he's really nice," he says. 

You perk up. "Yeah?" 

"He's in a band, too. A rock band. You like that stuff. You'd be good together," he says, unconvincing even to himself.

Each word could be demonstrated as a plier held to his teeth, slowly pulling. It's agony to stick up for his competitor. No, he corrects himself, not a competitor, because you don't like him. Steve's alone in his pining. 

"I don't know about all that," you whisper. 

"You don't have to be nervous, okay? I'm sure he's a nice guy and that you'll have fun." 

You don't seem very cheered up. 

He unclenches his jaw and sneaks a look at you. You're picking the hemming of your long sleeve with a thoughtful look in place. Steve thinks, Fuck, they must really like him. 

"Seriously, babe." 

You drop your head against your shoulder. "Can I sleep at your place?" 

He should say no. "Yeah, of course you can." 

"I think there's a racoon living in my attic." 

"I'll come take a look tomorrow." 

"Thank you." 

You tumble out of the car and up the gravel to Steve's house, unlocking the door with a practised ease before running up the stairs. Steve follows with little urgency behind you. 

"Babe?" he asks, closing the door behind him.

"I need the bathroom," you call. 

Steve nods and beelines for the kitchen, looking for something to make that you'll enjoy and that won't take a year off of your life expectancies. If Steve were by himself he'd skip dinner or order something greasy, but he thinks you should have a proper meal.  

He's got a can of soup warming over the burner when you come back down, having switched your outfit for something comfy, clothes you keep in the bottom of his wardrobe for such occasions. 

"Pee your pants?" he asks, grinning. 

You hit your hip into his on purpose and hoist yourself onto the counter to watch him stir. 

"Watch it! Can't you see I'm performing a culinary miracle?" 

"It smells nice." Your face floods with happiness.

"It's your favourite one." 

"They don't sell my favourite in Bradley's anymore." 

"It was at the back of the cabinet. Might get food poisoning," he says. 

He's lying through his teeth – he'd gone up to some fancy Indianapolis grocery store and bought a fuck load. He prays that your attention stays on him and not the cabinet behind your head where evidence of his affection hides in wait. 

"Yum," you say.

"There's ciabatta in the bread bin. Do you want, like, the works?" 

"Balsamic vinegar," you nod your head sagely. "Yes." 

He feels a tendril of fondness curl around his heart. 

-

Fed and watered you crawl into Steve's bed like you always do, smack dab in the middle, sheets pulled up to your nose. Your moaning nonsense to yourself about being greedy and evil demons that cause bloating. 

"I told you to slow down," he murmurs as he climbs in beside you, the two of you smelling like spearmint toothpaste. 

Your hands smell like soap as you bat at him uselessly. "Shut up, Steve." 

He moves onto his back and sighs. "You have such an attitude problem."

"I do not."

He throws his hand out fast and squeezes your sensitive waist. You gasp and pull away, giggling as his hand chases you. He digs his fingers into your ribs until you're panting for air, your legs kicking him away from you. 

"Stop, Steve. Steve, Steve, Stevie, please stop." Your words are garbled with laughter. 

"I can't hear you." 

"Stop!" you cry out. "Please." 

He pulls his hand away and feels smug at how little effort it took to get you that badly. "I didn't know you could shout that loudly, babe." 

"Only for you," you say, catching your breath. 

Steve feels his cheeks go red. Physically feels the blood blossom under his skin. He clears his throat and turns away from you, flicking off the light fast so you can't see his embarrassment clear as day. 

You calm your breathing and Steve calms his heart. After a few minutes there's a dead silence. Not even the sound of a passing car. 

"It's so quiet," you say. 

"It was." 

Your hand at his back. He suppresses chills as your knuckles move over the dip of his spine and then over, your palm smoothing down his arm until you find his hand. Another one of your quirks when you're tired and dizzy with content, you search for his fingers and twine them with your own as you talk. 

"Thanks for dinner. You're a better cook than you'd think, Steve. S'like being at Enzo's but with none of the tables and chairs. Or the music." 

He rubs his thumb gently over the back of your hand where it rests on his thighs and chuckles. "I'll give the chef your compliments." 

"Thank you." 

Another stretch of silence, broken up only by the sound of your breathing. Steve's more familiar with your breathing than his own. He thinks of nights where he'd feigned sleep and watched the rise and fall of your chest through barely parted lashes. 

With his back to you it's easy to pretend you're more than friends. He pulls your joined hands to his chest and worries your skin with the pad of his thumb, a thousand thoughts rattling around his brain. 

"Y/N," Steve says suddenly, unsure if you're still awake. 

"What?" you ask quietly.

"Don't listen to Robin, okay? Don't… don't try and tongue kiss Munson the first time." 

You inhale weirdly. "I won't." 

"Good." He moves your hand back to your chest and drops it gently. "Goodnight," he says.

You don't say anything back. 

-

Dustin sits under the Family Video desk with his radio contraption that Steve doesn't understand, him and Robin having entered a surprisingly easy conversation. Less surprising upon discovering the topic: Steve's ineptitude, Steve's idiocy, Steve's hopelessness. 

"I feel sorry for him," Dustin says conversationally. 

"Really sorry for him." 

"Because it's his third snub in as many years-" 

"And that's not counting each Scoops Ahoy disaster-" 

"Exactly. And, it's like, going on how many years of being friends?" Dustin asks. 

"Twelve," Steve says, resigned to his fate and feeling very pathetic where he manually ticks through returns on the computer. He doesn't even look up. 

"Twelve years to make a move and now he's too late," Dustin says. 

"Well, never say never," Robin says, her voice high. 

Steve frowns and looks through the screen for a moment before turning his gaze over his shoulder to where Robin lounges on the floor, legs crossed and a book between her thighs.

"What?" he asks. 

"What?" she repeats. 

They stare at each other. Steve's expression changes from depressed to incensed.

"Oh my god, you know something." 

"I don't know anything." 

They stare at each other more. Steve doesn't believe her even slightly. He knows Robin. They've been friends for an entire year by this point. Steve would even say that they're best friends. He knows when she's lying. 

"'Never say never?'" he quotes. 

Dustin has stopped messing with his technology to watch. His head moves one way and then the other like he's following a tennis ball, his brown curls bouncing around his ears. 

"It's a common saying-" Robin defends. 

"But why did you say it?"

Tense silence.

"You do know something," Dustin says. Excitement gives his face a boyish charm.

Robin closes the book between her thighs and smiles awkwardly. Steve feels his heart leap into his throat when she tilts her head to the side guiltily and sighs. 

"Shit," she mutters. 

-

Operation Stakeout is redundant, according to Mike. 

"An operation and a stakeout are basically the same thing," he mutters.

"That's not true," Dustin says, know-it-all tone in play. "A stakeout is always an operation but operations aren't always stakeouts." 

Lucas eats a handful of chips noisily. Max groans. 

"It feels redundant," Robin says. 

"It's about to feel jeopardised," Steve says scathingly, forcing her head back down where the six of them hide behind a trimmed hedge outside Enzo's. 

"When's it my turn with the binoculars?" Robin asks. 

"Never," Dustin says. There isn't a trace of sympathy in his voice. 

"Sexism?" she wonders to herself. 

Max snatches the binoculars from Dustin’s hand and brings them to her eyes, looking through the painted window of Hawkins best Italian restaurant for any sign of you and your date. 

They must look like a group of idiots. Half the gang are in dark clothing where Mike, Robin and Max had all refused to bother. Dustin had brought a camouflage net and strewn it over their heads, though most of them had shrugged it off, holding it to their shoulders like a terrible blanket. 

Steve waits impatiently for Max's report. 

"There they are," Max says. 

He can't himself as he springs up and searches for you. They'd all watched secretly as you'd arrived and met Munson outside. He scrubbed up well. It boiled Steve's blood. In a totally fun, carefree way because he's being very normal about this whole thing. You know, if you ignore Operation Stakeout. 

"Where?" 

He holds his hand out for the binoculars and Max drops them heavily into his palm. Steve almost blinds himself as he brings them to his eyes, squinting for a glance at you.

"Toward the left." 

"They're ordering," he says. 

"They're on a date," Mike says. 

Lucas makes a sad sound and eats more chips. Steve feels a sharp wave of pity for him though he quickly forgets it in favour of the look on your face. You're smiling wide but insincerely. 

"Y/N is not having a good time," he says happily. "Is it evil to feel relieved?" 

"Yes," a few voices say. 

Dustin shrugs. "Let's hope Eddie makes them cry. Or the other way around."  

"Dude." There's a silent conversation that Steve isn't privy to then that ends with Lucas and Dustin shoving each other. 

"Why are we expecting this to end badly?" Max asks. "Because I'm still not convinced." 

Steve watches you reach for your drink and tries not to recant his explanation with any bias. Tries. "Y/N doesn't like Munson." 

"We already knew that, to be fair," Robin says, still trying to defend you now that she'd possibly exposed your secret. Guilt is a new look on her. 

"Right, but not liking Eddie and liking Steve are two different things," Max says. 

"Well, why wouldn't you like Eddie?" Dustin says. 

"If you like him so much why don't you marry him?" Steve asks, deadpan. 

"Shut up." 

"I know who I'd choose," Max says. 

Steve waits for a follow up because he has no clue who Max would choose. When she doesn't answer he peels his gaze from your upturned mouth and finds that the rest of the group are giving Max the same curious look. 

"What?" she asks furiously. "One is clearly more attractive." 

"Which one, Maxine?" Steve asks. 

"Eddie," Mike and Dustin say. 

"Steve," Robin and Lucas say. 

Max is saved from having to answer by the ensuing argument. They can both drive. Steve is wealthy - "Generationally!" - where Eddie's less so. Steve graduated - "Barely!" - and Eddie's in his third senior year. 

"He's in a band," Robin says unhappily, like she's sad that Steve isn't measuring up. 

"Have you heard them play? Steve's definitely winning," Lucas says. 

"Steve doesn't know who Gollum is," Dustin points out. "He's, like, socially misplaced." 

"Does Y/N?" Max asks. 

The group ponders. Robin takes the binoculars from Steve's hands and aims them at you again. "Wait, did Eddie get the carbonara? That's a point for Steve." 

"It's an Italian staple!" Dustin defends.

"You'd think a cult leader would order something a little more adventurous." 

"Hellfire isn't a cult, Steve, don't be fucking offensive." 

"Okay, watch your mouth, Henderson," Steve says testily. 

His knees ache from hiding and his hands are frigid. It's dark enough for Lucas to switch on a torch as he offers Max his pringles. She wrinkles her nose in disgust and the poor guy looks dejected beyond words. 

A disgruntled old lady complains behind them at having to walk around them. Mike complains louder. "This is pointless." 

"It's not pointless," Steve says. 

"Yes, it is." 

"No, it isn't." He glares at Mike. 

"It totally is! You're wasting our night to perv on someone who couldn't be less interested in you." 

"I didn't ask you to come!" Steve shouts.

"I wanted to see you be wrong in person," he says. 

Steve sighs because maybe he is wrong. He doesn't know what he believes anymore. He's working on the tiniest evidence that you like him, a slip of the tongue. 

When you'd walked into Family Video a few days ago and asked Robin for 'boy tips', you'd said something suspicious. Steve doesn't think you know what you said. Robin thinks you're both idiots, though she thinks you're pathetic in the loveable way and Steve the pathetic way. 

"Why Eddie?" Robin had asked you while he was hidden away in the backroom. "I didn't know you liked the rock and roll type. I was thinking, like, Steve's calibre. Homegrown boy next door who's a little misguided." 

"Well, Steve's never gonna ask me out," you'd said. 

"Thank god for that," Robin had joked awkwardly. Steve doesn't hold it against her. 

When she'd relayed the conversation to him he'd been happy at first, because in most situations this would imply that you're waiting for it. That you want him to ask you out. 

But you're not like most people, and you might've meant Steve in place of someone like Steve. 

"I don't think he's wrong," Dustin says now. 

"You're the same IQ," Mike says. 

"You might be right, Wheeler," Steve huffs, holding his hands out for a turn. Robin passes them obligingly. "Y/N's so literal. They might've just been stating the obvious." 

"Or maybe they thought Robin was implying they liked Steve and got defensive," Max adds. 

"Or maybe it's exactly like it sounds and they have a crush on Steve," Lucas says. He wilts under Max's fierce scowl. "Or maybe they were being defensive." 

"Defensive isn't really their style," Steve says, not sure what side he's on, sick with hope.

"What is their style?" Mike asks. "Delusion?" 

"Shut the fuck up, man," Steve says. 

"You're such an asshole sometimes," Max says. 

They dissolve into bickering and Steve spies on you, watching through the binoculars with one eye pinched closed as you set down your cutlery. You're laughing. 

Steve pulls the binoculars from his face and feels maybe every stage of grief as he hands them off to Dustin. "Mike's right, we're wasting the night here. If Y/N liked me, we wouldn't be camped outside Enzo's right now under the world's most threadbare throw blanket." 

Mike clears his throat, and Steve knows he must have sounded pathetic when he, at odds with the cold indifference he usually sports, says, "I mean… People are complicated. El broke up with me last summer because my grandma died." 

"That is not why," Max says. She sounds like she wants to be mad but can't manage it. She sounds about as happy as she has all year, so Steve decides maybe the night isn't totally wasted. 

"Your grandma died?" Lucas asks.

"No." 

"He just grabbed Y/N's hand," Dustin announces, one eye pressed to the binoculars. 

His head is smushed against Lucas', who peers into the binoculars with his opposite eye and hums thoughtfully. "More of a caress than a grab." 

Steve snatches the binoculars. "Give me that," he demands. 

"You still haven't explained the spying," Max says. 

Steve finds you in the restaurant. Your hand is extended across the table. You're twisting the rings around Eddie's fingers, saying something he doesn't have the talent to lip read. 

"I thought that," he starts, morose, heart stomped on with every second you spend fawning over Munson's rock star hands, "if Y/N likes me, the date would be a total failure." 

"Right, like halfway through the date Y/N was gonna have this amazing epiphany and come crashing through the doors, like a rom-com," Robin continues. 

"That's stupid," Mike says. 

Steve agrees with him. It's stupid to expect you to throw away a good chance at happiness and keep a candle burning for him instead when he's never showed any interest in you before. But, in his defense, he didn't know he was allowed. 

"Whatever," he sighs. "I'm sick of thinking about it. Let's just go home." 

There's an awkward silence then where everyone feels sorry for him and nobody knows what to say. 

"Plenty of fi-" Lucas starts, voice lilted up in question until he's socked hard in the arm. He clears his throat. "Plenty of time left. On the clock. We can go get food?" 

"Steve needs ice cream," Robin says cheerily. He scrubs his face until his eyes hurt as she continues. "He needs to eat through the heartbreak. Ice cream, pizza, moon cakes, cheese balls." She turns to him fully. "I'm really sorry your love life is so sad, but look on the bright side! You now have an excuse to watch Splash on repeat." 

"Oh, goodie," he says. 

He gets a round of sympathetic shoulder pats and then everyone starts to pack Dustin's spy equipment and the snacks away. There's a pounding headache between Steve's eyes and his back pops in three places as he stands. He's getting too old for shit like this. I need to go home and sleep for twelve hours, he decides. And have a self flagellating bubble bath. With a toaster.

"Shit, they're coming out." 

They dive back behind the bush. Steve locks eyes with Robin. She holds her hand over her mouth as the door to Enzo's creaks open. 

"What size are you?" Eddie's asking. 

"I don't know. Do I have to wear the shirt?" 

A handsome laugh. "No, you don't have to. It's just for club morale. Plus, it's pretty sick." 

"It's not sick, it's cute." 

"No, no." He's being so nice it makes Steve feel terrible for wishing bad things upon him. "Not bad sick. Good sick, like awesome." 

"Right," you laugh. 

Robin starts to lift her head. Steve shakes his vehemently, begging her not to. She does anyways, her eyes shifting up over the green hedge line. He tugs her shoulder urgently. 

Robin starts to push against his face with her hands. It's increasingly difficult to fight her silently, especially when she smacks him straight in the soft part of his nose. 

He winces and covers his face with both hands. God, are you there? He thinks urgently. It's me, Steve. 

Robin gasps. 

Five sets of eyes whip to her and Steve yanks her hard to the ground, covering her mouth with his hand. She licks his palm and Steve throws himself back, sprawled on the ground with his elbows stinging, his heart hammering because there's no way you didn't hear all that. He waits to be caught. 

"I'll get it printed for you. Everyone has one. Like a uniform."

"Thanks for dinner," you say. 

"You're welcome. I'll see you on Friday, yeah?" 

"Yes. Thank you, Eddie."

Your voices stop. Steve lets himself collapse onto the sidewalk beneath, hair crushed under his neck. Your date must've gone pretty fucking well if you're going on another. 

Robin's face above him. Her hair hangs down, blocking slices of her face from view. 

"Don't sulk, Steve." 

He glares at her. "You heard that, right? They're going on another date. Leave me here to die." 

Robin's beaming. "Steve." 

"It's too late. I should've- I don't know why I thought this was a good idea. I'm a loser." 

"Could you stop feeling sorry for yourself for a second?" she asks. 

"What's the point?" 

"Steve," Robin laughs. "They didn't kiss." He swallows around the dryness in his mouth. "They didn't kiss," she repeats. "Eddie tried it, but…"

"Total head turn," Dustin says, the top of his head touching Robin's as he comes to stand over Steve, his shoes at Steve's shoulder.

"Doesn't mean anything. They're still going on another date," Steve says. 

"Dummy," Max says, joining the two hovering above him. 

Mike and Lucas join soon after. "You're definitely a loser-" Mike says. 

"Dude." 

"If you don't try," Mike finishes. 

Steve looks up into the circle of their faces. They look super weird from this angle. Too happy. It's never a good thing when they're all smiling the way that they are. Hope in this family turns into stupid decisions. 

"The head turn was on purpose?" he asks. 

He's crushed by their hesitation. 

"Well, it's Y/N," Robin sighs. She rolls her eyes at his expression. "Nah, I'm messing with you. It was definitely on purpose." 

He covers his face with his hands and stares at his friend's through parted fingers. "Shit." 

A ruckus of laughter and smiles as Robin offers a hand to pull him up off of the ground. "Alright, come on, dingus, we have work to do." 

"Work?" he asks. 

"T-minus six days and… twenty two hours until their second date," Dustin says, checking his watch. "Six days to make a move, Harrington. Can you do it?" 

-

It only takes him three. 

Saturday and Sunday are spent feeling sorry for himself and sick with worry that he can't make a move or that his move won't be reciprocated. 

But then he sees you on Monday and can't really stand it anymore. You'd turned your head. You hadn't let Eddie kiss you. 

Steve needs to know if you'll let him. 

You're all in blue today with your eyebrows pinched up, looking sad. He knows from experience that you aren't sad at all, only thinking, sitting on the hood of his car with your legs pulled up. You're demure. You're probably an angel. 

"How long have you been out here?" he asks, coming to a stop in front of you. 

"I'm too afraid to come see you," you say. It's more honest than Steve had been expecting. Certainly more straightforward than you tend to be. 

"You're seeing me now." 

You look up into his face. The sun behind you, your face in shadow and your hair kissed by golden light, you open your hands over your thighs. Steve thinks of Lovers Lake, the Victoria flowers bobbing on the surface. Green, soft cups over dark water. 

"I'm seeing you," you say. 

You twist your fingers together and the lily pad turns to a water lily, your fingertips a tight bud. 

You're nervous.

Steve crosses his arms over his chest and leans back slightly to take you in. 

He lifts his chin at you. "How did your date go?" he asks. 

"It was okay. Eddie's a nice guy. He's… interesting." 

"Yeah?" 

You hum. "Why are you asking me?" 

"We're friends. I want to know if you had fun." 

You shrug your shoulders and turn your haze to the hood of the BMW, scratching your nail over an imperfection he can't see. 

Steve's unnerved to see you so still. He waits for your legs to kick or for your hands to fidget, to wear holes into the hem of your shirt. 

"I don't think we're friends, Stevie," you say finally. 

He actually feels mad. It shocks him, but he does, and he won't shy away from it. "Why did you ask Munson on a date?" 

"He can drive. He's nice to girls. He's good looking." You stop scratching but don't look at him. Your ankle swings towards his car, stops before it hits the front bumper. 

Your answers hurt his feelings, little pinpricks of annoyance? Jealousy? He doesn't know what he feels. He was hoping you'd say something reassuring. 

He kicks himself quickly. You're not going to reassure him because you don't know he needs to be reassured. You don't know anything because he hasn't told you. 

You mumble something too low for him to hear. 

"What?" he asks gently. "I can't hear you." 

"I asked him because I thought if-" You stop. Steve watches your hesitation turn to distress and steps forward to take your wringing hands into his. 

"Don't do that," he says quietly. 

You stop rubbing your wrists. "I'm trying to tell you." 

"I know you are. Don't wind yourself up over it. Tell me slowly." He doesn't like this expression you're wearing. So unlike you. He wants to see your quiet face again, your features settled, your eyes bright. He bends at the waist to talk to you. "What did you think?" 

"I thought if anybody in the world could make you jealous, it would be Eddie." 

He works your clenched fingers open, rubbing his thumbs over the small creases in your skin. His heart thrums in his chest.

He smiles at you. "Now why do you wanna make me jealous?" he asks fondly, a hint of smugness creeping in. 

You raise your eyes to his and squeeze his hands. "Steve," you say pleadingly. "Don't be cruel." 

"About what?" he asks, his eyebrows pinched together in confusion.

"I know that I'm- I'm stupid, and distracted and-and I miss things, and-" 

"Hey. That's not true." 

You overflow.

"No, it is, it's true." You pull your hands out of his grip and cross them over your torso. Your eyes squint in efforts to stop the tears he can see gathering from spilling over, and your mouth twists up into a bitter smile. "Everyone says so. I- I don't know why I thought you would like me back." 

"You like me?" he asks weakly. 

You stop. "I thought you knew." 

Steve's eyes flit in disbelief from your eyes to your lips, wondering if you've truly just said what you said. 

Fine, whatever, he can be brave too. "If I tried to kiss you, would you let me?" he asks. 

The upset wanes from your face and is replaced by a lighter kind of lovely. You pout. "Why would you ask me that?" 

"Do you want me to kiss you?" he tries again. 

"I don't know what the right answer is." 

"I could…" Steve taps under your chin with his knuckle and lifts your face to his, eyes skipping between yours, the circle of your pupils dilated and shining. "I could never be cruel with you." 

You wrap your hand around the crook of his elbow. 

Understanding moves between you. He can pinpoint two realisations on your face as they happen. The first, that he isn't toying with you. That Steve had no idea how you felt, and that he hadn't known you were trying to make him jealous. The second, that you're about to be kissed. 

"You were right," he says, his thumb sliding over the apple of your cheek. 

"About what?" you ask, your eyes restless, clicking over each of his features in turn and getting caught on his lips.

He leans in, your mouths an inch apart. "Your date with Munson – I was jealous. But it's not about him. It's about you. You could've," he stops to laugh, bringing his second hand to the curve of your neck, "could've gone on a date with Keith and I would've been sick with it." 

"Really?" you ask. 

"Mm-hm," he hums lightly. 

Your eyes close. Steve hesitates still, can't believe that he hasn't moved in, but he needs to say it.

"If I tried to kiss you, would you let me?" he asks again, voice barely louder than a whisper. 

"Yeah, I'd let you."

His hands tremble with anticipation, a long time spent longing. He moves in, his ears pricked at the sound of your sweet inhale. A hitch, the same sound you make when you sleep beside him. The same sound you make when you're dreaming. 

He spreads his hand over your thigh and kisses you. 

Your lips are soft as a downy feather beneath his. You're shy, moving back as he moves forward, pliant under his guiding. He pets the juncture of your neck soothingly and pulls back fast, a short, chaste kiss. His lips burn. 

"Again?" you ask. 

He wades in carefully, worried to overwhelm you. You're like a wave cresting sand, falling back to push forward quickly. He's so elated to have his kiss returned that he sighs into you, palm spread wide over the dough of your thigh and squeezing carefully. He can feel your smile grow, your lips parting with it, the kiss inadvertently deepening. 

You pull back. "I'm sorry." 

His eyebrows furrow and he shakes his head. "For what?" he asks, rubbing your thigh. 

"Boys don't like it when you slip them the tongue on the first kiss." 

He blinks owlishly and has to step away from you to stop from laughing in your face, never at you, but laugh all the same. He smothers it with a cough and then doesn't bother, chuckling as he stands between your legs and throws his arms around you in a steel-armed hug. 

You giggle and bring your forearms to the back of his head. Your wrist craned, you sift your fingertips through his hair, nails running over his scalp fleetingly. 

"Right," he says. "Duh." 

"I remembered," you say, sounding infinitely pleased with yourself. 

He feels the heat of your body sink into his and wants to scream. The indescribable heat of your kiss plays over his chest, snaking tendrils. He feels weightless. 

"The second kiss though," he says. Strictly informative. "They don't mind it, the second time."

He moves his head away from yours to meet your eyes. They're lit with mirth. 

"Don't mind it, huh?" you ask knowingly. 

His cheeks ache with a grin as he pulls you back in. 

-

"You know, I saw you spying outside Enzo's," you say much later, your head tucked into Steve's chest.

He didn't know but he's not surprised. "Gonna cancel your date?" he asks.

"What date?"

"On Friday?" 

"That isn't a date. I joined Hellfire Club." 

Oh my god, he thinks. Eddie fucking Munson. "You're gonna have to kiss me again," he says morosely. He cheers up considerably quickly as you lift your chin, beaming.

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who’s the swim pro now?

pairings. steve harrington x fem!reader

about. will lovers lake rekindle yours and steve’s past friendship?

warnings. foul language, uh, STRANGER THINGS S4 SPOILERS OMG I FORGOT SORRY

ricky rocks. stranger things rebirth ☝️

five people in one canoe—this was not a smart idea. you realized this now as you were practically tipping into the waters of lovers lake, watching dustin, lucas, and max grow smaller and smaller from the shore line as eddie and robin paddle you all further and further into the blue.

how you ended up in this position—you weren’t exactly sure but it all started with chasing down a news story for the hawkins high school paper, something you honestly should have stayed out of.

you sat in the middle of the boat, watching the waves slowly splash against the side, implementing cold weather to consume you. this wasn’t the way you imagined to spend your spring break, but you also never imagined to come in contact with steve harrington ever again.

“woah, woah, slow down guys,” nancy reached out causing both eddie and robin to stop paddling the boat, all of you now looking to her where she held the compass and it’s now derange state; shaking in the palm of her hand.

you watched the needle spin so fast it looked as if it would break off, making you narrow your brows. you watched until you looked to meet nancy’s eyes; she was smiling.

“what’s going on guys, why’d you stop?” your ears perked up to the sound of dustin’s voice through the forgotten walkie that sat in the back.

robin quickly grabbed it, “uh, dustin your compass has gone wonky to wonky with a capitol ‘ahh’.”

you all looked back to it before watching steve begin to unlace his shoes.

“wait, steve, what’re you doing?”

“somebody’s gotta go down there and check this out,” he explained. “unless one of you four can top being a hawkins high swim co-captain and a certified lifeguard for three years, then… it’s gotta be me. no complaints, all right?”

you watched him, your expression still tight with practically confused thoughts. steve now stood, beginning to take off his shirt.

“co-captain of the swim team, my ass. sit down harrington, and watch a pro go to work.”

he stared down to you hesitantly, eyeing you up and down, taken aback at this sudden proposition. he almost didn’t believe the challenging stare you had, but he shrugged, deciding why not and knowing you wouldn’t take no for an answer, “okay, y/l/n, show us what you got.”

you took his place in stance, now unzipping your jacket to reveal a plain tank top that barely laid over your stomach before running your thumbs around the waistband of your jeans.

“woah, don’t tell me you’re just gonna-”

“relax,” you gave eddie a pointed look before pulling down your pants, revealing the pair of boxers you wore for shorts. “ever heard of layering?”

he seemed to shy away at this after a clear exhale of relief came from the group, glad to know you weren’t about to reveal your bare ass.

“see you on the other side,” you looked between all four of them before tipping your head and turning, diving precisely into the cold waters of lovers lake.

it knocked the breath out of you almost immediately and you began to regret wanting to show up steve with volunteering yourself. it had been quite a long time since you had put your swimming skills to test due to quitting the swim team after freshman year.

but it was now or never to freshen up.

you kicked, praying your lungs wouldn’t collapse once you began to see the bottom of the lake floor and came to realization you’d now have to search with the factor that you couldn’t see a foot in front of you… and without a flash light.

stupid.

you mentally punched yourself but continued surfing the sandy floor, your skin now beginning to become accustomed to the cold water with each kick.

and it wasn’t long until you saw it.

it was almost beautiful if you weren’t scared. the glowing mash of colors of red and yellow and orange erupted into the dark blue, lighting up your vision.

you felt consumed.

**

“can’t believe you let her show you up like that,” eddie pulled a cigarette from his pocket, beginning to light it. “not typical of you steve harrington.”

“gross,” robin pulled it from his grasp before tossing it into the water. “bad habit, better stop now.”

he sighed, not even trying to stop it.

“yeah, well, it’s y/n.”

“you’ve known her?” nancy quirked a brow, the sound of his sentence sounding like your nature was nothing new to him and he was very familiar with it. she found this strange, she thought you and steve had only met that day, but it begun to make sense why the atmosphere always seemed so tense and awkward between you two.

“yeah, for awhile,” steve shrugged, like there was nothing to it, like there wasn’t as much history as there actually was. “used to be neighbors before she moved. she was my best friend for the longest time, always came over.”

the sound of waves slapping against the boat was the only thing that filled the air now.

steve thought about how close the two of you were. you were both inseparable and could never take a moment apart. you were the reason he learned poker and knew how to play it so well.

you taught him a lot of things—something he was slightly shameful about. every time he looked back on those memories, he couldn’t help but feel guilty for never reviving the relationship.

and then he thought about the day you moved out due to your parents divorce and how you both thought nothing of it, that it wouldn’t effect your relationship at all, until it did.

you hadn’t seen steve for a long time after that and when you finally did—not a word was said between the two of you and he barely even waved ‘hi’.

it didn’t get any better after that.

“hey uh, it’s been awhile, should we-“

you surfaced through the water fast, practically knocking eddie into the water with you due to him already being leaned over the side. you were gasping for air, your chest heaving up and down as you grabbed onto the side of the boat, looking for some version of stability.

“jesus, since when can you hold your breath that long.”

“you’re not the only life guard here, steve-o,” he chokes out a breathy laugh, almost in relief, his hand grabbing onto your forearm to keep ahold of you.

“what’d you see?”

“are you alright?”

“yeah, i’m fine, pull me up,” you attempted to haul yourself up as they all pulled you onto the boat. “it’s there and it’s a portal right through.”

“did you go through?”

“no,” you shook your head, “but-“

you’re suddenly pulled into the water, your body once again consumed by the cold water and you’re blind. you can’t see and you can barely catch your breath as a strong force pulls you back to the bottom, and finally right through the gate.

and you don’t remember any of it, not one bit, you don’t think you were even conscious; until steve’s hands are clasping your face and lightly shaking you back to consciousness. he’s cold and he’s wet, but in your splitting vision, you can see him slightly smile in relief that you were alive.

“thank god,” he sighed, leaning back a little before leaning back down, pressing his forehead into your shoulder. “y/n, you scared the shit out of me,” he pulls back away, shaking his head, almost as if saying you were unbelievable. “no more trying to prove your pro-swimming skills.”

you laughed, painfully, suddenly becoming aware of the aching sensation that resonated from your throat, “god, harrington,” you begun to sit up, your hand clasping the cut that was etched into your skin. “when are you going to just accept that i’m better a swimmer than you.”

he laughs tentatively, now helping you to your feet, “maybe when this monster-alien bull crap is over,” his hand is wrapped around your waist, steadying you on your feet, while his other one held your hand, “god, i thought i lost you.”

“i’m fine, steve,” you looked at him with sympathy, your head slightly leaning closer to him. “i’m good, i’m alive.”

“yeah, i’d find that a lot more reassuring if your throat didn’t look like it was slit.”

“what even happened?”

“story for another time,” robin clapped the both of your shoulders suddenly, “and if we want to live long enough to tell it, we gotta get going. kiss later.”

the two of you now looked to each other, both burning up in slight embarrassment and now becoming very aware of how close the two of you were.

you awkwardly cough, slightly shifting back and slowly following robin with a backward step, “guess this calls for a rain check, what do you say harrington?”

“i say you’re fucking crazy.”

navigation.

perfect match.

pairings. steve harrington x fem!reader

about. steve has a little crush.

warnings. gif not mine, foul language maybe

ricky rocks. send me an inbox message 🫶🫶

steve always felt like he was trapped in his own body after his world got flipped upside down when unexplainable things invaded hawkins as well as his own life and getting into college was no longer his biggest problem.

—and of course, when nancy broke up with him. and what was once home, was now just a shell that carried him around from one place to another.

everything he found fun before didn’t strike him with the same excitement. he suddenly became hyper aware of everything and where his life seemed to be heading toward; which wasn’t bad, just something nobody really wants—a cookie cutter life that resembled exactly his parents.

until he met you.

you were a lot different compared to a lot of girls he had met and put himself into social situations with. you were smart, sarcastic, witty, and actually had things going for you; hobbies, a job, things that mattered in the long run.

you were exactly what steve needed—according to dustin. and he wasn’t wrong; steve just wished he had realized that a lot sooner.

“harrington, i didn’t realize you still came to parties,” the first time he really saw you was when you were leaned on your forearms as you came to fill your red solo cup with the red punch placed on the island as an offering to all. steve stood on the other side, staring off into space while thinking he should have never came until your slight sweet smile came into sight.

“yeah, me too,” he sighed, sounding sorrowful as he took a drink from his own solo cup, trying to pay attention to who was speaking to him—he almost thought it was his own conscious reminding him there were better things to be doing.

“you’re too cool for all this now?”

“something like that.”

you hummed, finishing up the pouring of the punch. you had honestly hoped to get more out of him, but his mouth was practically a steel trap and he didn’t seem exactly present, so you walked off with a nod.

it took him awhile to recognize you, and your name didn’t hit him until it was too late and you had already crossed the room.

**

a month later steve was parked outside of dustin’s house, tapping his fingers lightly against his car, humming to the song on the radio patiently waiting for dustin to come outside when you were walking to get your mail and your eyes caught onto the familiar burgundy BMW parked across the street. you slightly grinned from where you stood.

maybe you could get him this time.

“hey, stranger,” you slightly tipped your head as you bent down to see him properly through his rolled down window, smiling once he turned his head, almost shocked to see your face. “didn’t know you hung around here.”

“oh-i don’t-i-i’m just picking up a friend.”

oh he was already starting off so rough.

“right,” you leaned back to your normal posture, looking to the henderson house for recognition. “didn’t know you ran with the middle schoolers now.”

he nervously laughed, already knowing this would eventually happen; someone would find out that he was practically best friends with an eighth grader—really his only friend at the moment.

“don’t worry i won’t tell,” you winked just as dustin came stumbling down his front lawn to steve’s passenger seat, already taking note of you.

you were already beginning to walk away with your hands shoved into your jackets pockets and steve suddenly felt a rush of embarrassment almost, “it’s not what it looks like.”

“i’m sure it isn’t,” you called back to him.

“really, there’s more to it.”

“maybe you can tell me all about it sometime.”

steve sighed seeing you were already on your own front lawn—therefore too far to continue to explain himself without seeming like a douche.

“who’s that?”

“huh?” steve almost forgot about dustin as he turned to face him.

“that girl, who is that?”

“oh, just some… girl who’s in my physics class,” he was already having a hard time trying to explain it. he felt caught.

“just some girl?” he quirked a brow, not believing the shallowness of the statement.

“what?”

“dude,” dustin already had that blunt look on his face that steve hated so much—something that made him feel dumb as he stared back, waiting for the explanation to his dumbfounded voice. “that’s not just some girl, that’s like.. some girl you want to take home.”

“what?” okay, now he was really lost.

“what’s her name?”

“i don’t know, y/n?”

“you don’t know?”

“yes, i do know, it’s y/n.”

“good,” dustin shook his head, “because you gotta get on that, man.”

“what, no,” steve’s face screwed up, slightly caught off guard with the suggestion. “no way.”

“what do you mean, steve. did you not see that, she was flirting with you.”

“you’re on something henderson,” steve shook his head. “she was not flirting with me.”

“‘maybe you can tell me about it sometime?’” dustin repeated your words, hoping to lay it out better for him, “dude, steve, if that doesn’t mean ‘let’s have a candle lit dinner’ then i don’t know what does.”

he has to think about it for a minute, his head slightly turning as he leans on his wheel, thinking over the conversation the both of you just had ten seconds ago, “oh, she was definitely flirting.”

“see!”

“there is no way you’re giving me advice on girls right now,” steve shook his head, now moving the car into drive. “there’s no way.”

“hey, someone’s gotta give it to you,” dustin shrugs, “you’re losing your touch, harrington.”

“shut up.”

**

it seemed now everywhere he went you appeared. and you were no longer initiating the encounters, it was more of steve’s eyes wandering and they happened to stumble upon you walking down the hall. he cursed himself for noticing you first and your eyes not being there to meet his.

he didn’t understand the feeling eating at his chest as time passed and he thought about you more and more and with barely knowing you. he really wasn’t even sure if the name he had for you was correct.

“thinking about her?”

“jesus, henderson,” steve slightly flinched as dustin fell into the seat next to him on the couch without warning.

“thinking about who?” robin’s ears perked as she suddenly took interest to the conversation just starting.

the three of them currently sat in steve’s basement for a movie night that had been constantly requested by both dustin and robin until steve finally caved—and was now deeply regretting.

“y/n y/l/n.”

good, he was right.

“really?” robins eyebrows raised in surprised. “not the typical bimbo you go for, this is new for you steve.”

“what do you mean.. y/n’s not a bimbo--i don’t go for bimbos.”

“my point exactly, it’s a little concerning,” robin slightly shrugs, “but i’m sorry my friend, you do in fact usually go for bimbos.”

“i do not-“ steve raises his hands before looking over to dustin for help but the boy only nods, having to agree with robin. “okay, whatever, i don’t even like her.”

dustin rolls his eyes, “who were you just thinking about then, huh?”

steve’s cheeks turn red and he can’t help but roll his eyes, “shove off, henderson.”

he begins to giggle, shoving an accusing finger into steve’s face, “you like someone.”

“yeah, yeah, don’t get too excited,” he slaps dustin’s finger out of his face but it doesn’t stop dustin from continuing to sing in mock.

“that’s a first,” robin huffs, “you sure this isn’t just another kelly situation where you think you’re in love but it’s actually just her butt?”

“who said anything about love, or like for that matter? you guys are just jumping ahead of yourselves.”

dustin continues to sing in the background as he hops foot to foot, making robin give him a pointed look, “match maker here seems to think it’s serious.”

“he’s delusional.”

“well,” robin slightly tips her head, “you have seem really distant recently, steve. and y/n y/l/n, whoo, i’d say she’s definitely an improvement from any past love interests.”

“you’re both delusional.”

**

“we gotta stop meeting like this.”

steve almost jumps, looking up through his car window to see your face. once again, you had caught him in the midst of your neighborhood and outside of dustin’s house.

“jesus,” he looks up to you, a lopsided smile twitching onto his lips, “you a stalker now, y/n?”

“you’d like that, wouldn’t you, harrington,” you smiled, shaking your head, standing up to your real posture. “i think you’re the one stalking since you are the one parked right across from my house.”

he scoffed, “you live right across-“

“from your eighth grade best friend?” you raised a brow, making him roll his eyes. “a little weird.”

“do you have anything else better to do than to be making fun of me?”

“no, not really,” you pressed your lips together in a thin line, shaking your head.

he sighs, slightly shaking his own in thought, not knowing if he was about to regret what he was going to do next. he thinks, biting his lip before tilting his head, “get in.”

“excuse me?“

“hop in…my car?” he nods his head toward the passenger seat once more and it takes a minute for you, with your own thoughts, to decide whether or not this was a good idea. you think not, but you still round the car and get into the seat.

“this how you treat all your girlfriends?”

“maybe.”

“funny,” you shook your head, slightly smiling.

“what?”

“just never thought i’d be sitting in steve harrington’s car outside of little dusty henderson’s house.”

“now, why not?”

“oh, you’re too cool for me,” you say sarcastically, looking over to him.

“really, me?” he quirks a brow, smiling, but you could see confusion tainting his expression—he didn’t know if you were serious or not, or even what to make of your statement.

“really, you,” you nodded, “everyone worshipped you, steve… but then you just like disappeared, and even then people still worship you.” you frowned, not understanding the reverence of high school.

you liked steve, you didn’t mind him and had no problem with him, but the obsession some people had with him, you didn’t understand and you almost found quite annoying.

his disappearance and lack of attendance at parties and functions that “popular” kids attended to was something strange and unlike him. he was missed; you didn’t really care, but a lot of people did.

“yeah… right,” he sighed, looking down to his lap for a moment, thinking of all that had happened in the past year before looking back up to you. it seemed his mood was suddenly struck down at your sentence, but you didn’t understand why.

“why?”

“i don’t know,” he shrugged, “there just seemed no point in them anymore.”

“right.”

“what, you don’t believe me?”

“not really.”

“wow,” he says, “and i suppose you find them so much fun, don’t you?”

“well, yeah.”

he narrowed his brows, “girl like you? there’s no way you do.”

“what do you mean by that?” you scowled at him, taking offense.

“i don’t mean it in a bad way,” he’s quick to defend, throwing up his arms, “all i’m saying is that… you seem better than that, y’know? i’ve noticed you before, and you’re not like… a lot of those girls.”

“thanks?” you don’t know if you should take it as a compliment, but you love the way he seems flustered, trying to explain, almost embarrassed.

“yeah,” his voice is low, barely above a whisper, almost not wanting to unsettle the awkward silence. he know turns to look at you, “you don’t-“

he’s interrupted once you lean forward, pressing your lips against his.

he’s surprised, almost not processing what was happening until it hit him like a rock all at once and he finally kissed you back. you couldn’t believe yourself. never had you ever been this bold, but it was now or never, and you had been waiting to do this for awhile.

his hand clasped the side of your face, his other placing on your waist, pulling you further and closer to him till some part of you that isn’t your lips, was touching him.

he smelled of soap and laundry detergent and whatever product was in his hair. he smelled good and you didn’t want to pull away, especially since he was a good kisser, a real good one.

the rumors weren’t wrong.

he moved slow, like he wasn’t worried about time, and his lips were perfectly in sync to yours. but steve was almost overwhelmed, worried that he’d mess up even as this was one of the things he was good at.

you now pulled away, breathing shallowly but smiling as you look to him with a sparkle in your eye. he smiled back, but was finding it hard to keep consistent eye contact.

“are you blushing?” you smiled, slowly pulling away from his body. “is the steve harrington blushing?”

“shut up,” he smiled, his tongue poking into the side of his cheek as he glanced to his lap. “you’re not looking so hot either.”

“shut up, harrington,” you rolled your eyes, lightly shoving him. “i’m getting out of the car now.”

“wait, why?” he’s eager now, watching you shift in your seat.

“because i’m pretty sure your boyfriend just got a show,” you jerk your thumb to dustin who’s standing on his porch with a wide smile. you look back to steve who curses under his breath. “don’t worry,” you get out of the car now, “we’ll see each other again… maybe.”

“oh, c’mon now,” he calls out to you as you round his car, making your way back to your own home, “don’t be like that… call me!”

“so,” dustin is suddenly in his front seat, grinning from ear to ear, “are you two a perfect match, or are you two a perfect match?”

navigation.

promise me nothing.

pairings. steve harrington x fem!reader

about. steve and you cross paths, only for him to find out some bad news about you.

warnings. foul language, s4 spoilers sorta

ricky rocks. anotha one 😼🙌 also part two or nah?

“long time, no see, harrington,” you nod as you pass him before looking up and unintentionally connecting eyes with five other people at once. “and children…”

you nod again in acknowledgement, getting a good look at them all before making a move to walk away from the car they were all huddled around, but steve grabs your arm, “hey, what’s going on?”

“i don’t know what you mean.”

he rolls his eyes, still holding your bicep firmly. he tips his head toward the swarm of law enforcement in the front of a house before raising a brow, “you’re telling me this is nothing?”

“just about.”

“y/n.”

“what?”

“i think we need to talk.”

you and steve go back; way back since pre-school days, and although neither of you were ever truly close, there was a mutual understanding that you both had each other’s backs.

you both came from similar backgrounds; life set up since day one, given nice cars, lived in nice houses, and grew up in the hawkins country club aspect for loser adults trying to relive high school popularity by flaunting money.

and you were only tied more together by the strange and abnormal encounters and fights for life against the sci-fi creatures that had no faces and were covered from head to toe in slime—that eventually turned into something way bigger than the mind could fathom.

ever since the mall fire during the summer after senior year, you hadn’t seen steve or any of his nerd posse—till now.

you almost thought you were seeing things, but then again, you should have guessed that when anything remotely strange or out of the normal happened in hawkins, they’d always turn up, immediately on the case.

just never this fast.

“i think i’m dying.”

“what?”

you stood in front of steve, nancy, robin, and three of his freshman friends. their presence made you suddenly anxious and you couldn’t help but begin to talk out of your ass as you slightly paced back and forth in your parents living room.

how steve coaxed you into talking to them—you weren’t sure—but it didn’t take long and it seemed you were almost more than willing to allow them into your home by the way you so easily opened your front door and offered snacks and refreshments.

yep, you were definitely dying.

they watched you with sudden concerned and confused looks, not knowing what to say and not expecting you to throw them this type of curve ball.

“brandon,” you mumbled, your hands shaking out in front of you. “jesus, i can’t even think straight…” you place your hand on your forehead, thinking over whether or not you should ever be speaking right then. “he’s dead.”

“who’s brandon?” dustin glances around to everyone but you, afraid to make eye contact almost.

“her boyfriend,” steve whispers, speaking as if you can’t hear them. and you almost couldn’t.

“i can’t even-i don’t even know-“

“hey, hey,” steve stops you in your tracks of speaking, sitting up from the chair he previously sat in. “you don’t have to say anything right now, just breathe. sit down.”

steve liked you, a lot. like, since day one, even as kids, he couldn’t get you out of his mind.

there was just something about you. you had a good head on your shoulders, you knew what you wanted, you didn’t let anything or anyone knock you off your feet, and you didn’t need anyone to save you. he hated that fact—the fact that you didn’t need him and he hated that sometimes it seemed you weren’t anything more than acquaintance.

“sit down,” he pulled you by the arm till you were close enough for him to place a hand on your waist, carefully guiding you to the chair he was previously in, giving you a soft look. “just breathe for a moment, alright?”

everyone glanced to each other at the gesture, almost not believing it. they looked to steve now where he stood in your place, his hand stroking his chin in thought, “i think it’s time we call in your pal eddie.”

**

it seemed you were in and out of sensibility as you thought over the past 24 hours, not believing it was real. you felt crazy, not being able to keep a stable thought in your head for more than a minute before turning into an emotional mess.

steve knew you weren’t in your right mind, especially after you let eddie into your home without a second thought. he didn’t think you even processed that moment or even realized what you were doing until—

“who are you?”

something you asked twenty minutes after he had been in your home.

“i’m eddie.”

“i think i know you.”

“well i hope so since we’ve been in school together since middle school before you graduated.”

“right,” you narrowed your brows, but didn’t say anything else, not knowing what to even make of him.

you knew eddie, but he was never someone you had ever talked to or had any interactions with. you didn’t care for him; you found him obnoxious and practically repulsing when you were still in school together—but right now, by the way he was looking at you—you didn’t mind him at all.

his expression was soft and full of sympathy, like he understood what was going through your mind and why you seemed so…bipolar in emotions.

“y/n, eddie’s here to talk.”

“why?”

“because what happened to you, is exactly what happened to him.”

you still had narrowed brows as you stared at him, not knowing what to say. there was a small proportion of recognition that struck you when you stared at eddie, not nearly enough for you to trust him, nor enough for you to spill your guts out to him about how your boyfriend was practically castrated right in front of your eyes.

“you’re afraid?”

you slowly nodded your head, eyes wide, not understanding the willingness that has suddenly taken over you, “yes.”

he nods and you feel the need to continue to explain yourself.

“i can’t get that image out of my head. god, i don’t even know if it was…”

“real?”

“yeah.”

he nods again.

“you said you think you’re dying, why?” he sat right across from you on your carpeted floor, now eyeing you carefully with the same cautiousness you had in your own pupils.

“because… the things that were happening to brandon before he was fucking possessed… are happening to me.”

“what do you mean,” he starred at you strangely now, his head slightly tipping, watching you carefully just as the rest of them did.

“the bloodied noses, the nightmares, the headaches, that noise…” you cringed as you spoke, almost shying away from saying more.

“what noise?” robin was leaned forward on her knees, her eyes wide with curiosity.

“a clock.”

it seemed right as you said it, the sound echoed through the room and the lights begun to flicker till there was no light at all and the only breathing body was you.

“you’re fucking kidding me,” your head lifted toward the hallway that opened up to your living room; exactly where the noise was coming from.

this had only happened once before; the first day you had come back from college while you were throwing up in your childhood bathroom. you couldn’t figure it out, you had never been sick before—not like that, but then suddenly your world turned dark and the sound of that damned clock was one of the only things you could hear.

you got to your feet slowly, continuing to stare into the dark as the sound echoed throughout your now empty home. the sound was jarring and something about it made you want to follow it like the last time. you were losing your mind, you had to get out of there.

you turned, only for your body to match right up against an unintelligible one. one much larger than your own.

your eyes went wide immediately, feeling a scream rip through your throat as fear set in fast and your head tipped to see such a haunting face you had never seen before.

“hello, y/n,” it looked like it smiled, examining your frightened state, taking pleasure in it, as you stared back in a paralyzed state. “your time is running thin,” it took a step forward, closer and closer. “you will soon be mine.”

you back peddle, fast, not thinking, not processing, but soon landing on your ass and back into the light where you sat in the same place before but with a pair of hands on your face, with voices yelling and screaming you back to conscious.

you were in shock, your limbs were numb and you could barely keep yourself up in a sitting position. you were breathing hard like you had been holding your breath for the past minute, practically dry heaving, feeling your stomach fold up into itself in terror.

“what happened?” steve’s face was the only thing your could see as his hands clasped your face hard, his nose practically touching yours as he stared at you wide-eyed, dipped in fear.

you stared back, feeling every nerve slowly come back to life within your body—drawing out into a painful process. your body begun to shake, tears flooding into the corners of your eyes as you couldn’t even begin to process the switch between realities.

“steve, get out of her face, she’s going to throw up!” robin was yanking at his shoulder despite his constant persistence, clinging to your body.

“are you okay?”

everyone stood around you, wide eyes, wide with fear, wide with concern.

“are you okay?”

“what happened?”

**

“i was here, and then i wasn’t, but it’s like nothing changed other than you all being gone,” you stood now, guiding them all through the process of your episode, now that you could finally process what had just happened. “it was that sound, that fucking clock sound, and i turned and it was something, like something you’d see out of a fucking movie, like the weird alien-monster things we’ve seen before. i don’t know—”

“vecna.”

“what?”

“she saw vecna,” dustin looks between everyone who all have seemed to agree with this consolation.

“will someone please translate what he just said?”

“vecna,” steve repeated, glancing up to you from the sudden heavy gloom laid upon him. “he’s the reason everyone’s been dying lately, you see him, you’re in an automatic death sentence… but you already knew that…”

you starred at him in disbelief, your eyes switching between each teen that sat on your couch, as if asking whether that was true or not, but they all avoided eye contact--which spoke louder than words.

“you’re fucking with me,” you scoffed, turning on your heal and beginning to pace. “of fucking course.”

“you don’t seemed so… terrified about this anymore,” max is quick to elbow lucas in the ribs who winces.

you ignore it, suddenly annoyed at the swift depressive mood change, “how do we kill this motherfucker?”

**

“you’re not giving up on me, are you steve?”

“of course not.”

the two of you stood on your back porch after steve had lightly pulled you by the elbow, recommending catching some fresh air.

you don’t believe his words. he seemed tired with almost the look of sadness in his eyes. this observation causes you to frown as you tip your head, slightly coming closer to steve to look at him better, “then why does it look like you’re the one dying and not me?”

he scoffs, “y/n.” he gets taller, straightening his posture from where he was previously leaned on your railing. he turns even more serious and it makes you frown. “why didn’t you tell me?”

“what difference would it have made?”

“we could have caught it earlier.”

“and be in the same position as we are in now?”

he doesn’t say anything, but still stares at you with a look that makes your chest tighten and your skin begin to flare up in heat.

and then, “i’m sorry about brandon.”

he wasn’t. he never liked him.

“i’m sorry you had to go through that,” he takes a step closer to you, his hand now clasping your arm. “we’re going to figure this out, i promise.”

“don’t promise me anything, stevie,” your hand softly caressed his cheek, giving him a thinned lip smile before walking inside, leaving him to himself outside.

navigation.

do something.

pairings. eddie munson x fem!reader

about. eddie tells you his impression on you.

warnings. foul language, set in s4 but not really any spoilers

ricky rocks. tbh i’m very suspicious of eddie, but here’s a short ass fic about him 😁

“so, you and harrington…dating?”

you had to hold back a laugh as you look over at eddie, not being able to tell whether or not he was pulling your leg. and it seemed he wasn’t by the way he looked back to you, waiting for you to answer.

the question was preposterous, mainly because for the longest time steve didn’t like you, and you didn’t like steve—not until he ended up saving your ass multiple times. and from there on, he was nothing but a friend.

“no,” you shook your head, biting down your grin. “no, not at all.”

eddie couldn’t help but nervously smile back, almost regretting asking in the first place, “really?”

you nodded.

“i don’t know if i believe that.”

“why not?”

“c’mon, you and steve?” he talks like you should know this, like everybody knows this. “he was like king of hawkins high, still is, and you’re fucking… you…”

you still smile, watching him try to explain himself. you don’t know what to say and he can tell by the way you open your mouth but don’t say a word.

“now i feel stupid…”

“why?”

“because i just made myself look like a total dumbass in front of you…”

you laugh, “eddie, i honestly don’t think you need to worry about that type of thing right now when you watched me eat shit trying to fight killer bats not even twenty minutes ago.” he laughs now, looking at you, really looking at you like he hadn’t ever seen you before, “what?”

“nothing,” he mumbles, smiling softly now, “you’re just kinda cool.”

“wow, thanks.”

“no, i mean—it’s like i always saw you as someone who lived in their own world, stuck up, y’know? didn’t give a fuck about anyone, which nothing wrong with that, just highly obnoxious if i might say—but, you’re a lot cooler than i thought, i mean the way you dove in for steve like that, without a thought, shows you’re a better person than me.”

you thought about his words, thinking it was strange to receive some outside review about yourself in a whole different dimension with someone you had never thought you’d interact with—but it was refreshing.

you don’t think you had ever had someone be so straight up to you like this—and even as he was somewhat being nice about it, you appreciated it. all your life people were suckers, willing to do anything for you.

he was being honest.

“you know, since you and harrington aren’t dating. who do you go out with?”

“no one.”

“really?”

“yeah,” you laugh, “what, is that so hard to believe?”

“well, yeah. pretty girl like you, you’re all everyone talks about. surprise no one’s done anything about that…”

“yeah, well,” you turn on your heel, now walking backwards, still facing him, “maybe when we get out of this hell hole—if we ever do, how about you do something about it.”

navigation.

your sister is hot!

pairings. steve harrington x fem!henderson!reader

about. steve makes his first encounter with dustin's hot sister.

warnings. foul language

ricky rocks. short fic to introduce this. i think all future fics i do with henderson!reader will be short and not following the plot of st, just fun :)

"why the fuck is my baseball bat covered in nails?"

dustin cringed at the sound of your voice echoing out past the front door where he just almost got away. steve turned to look at him, his eyebrow arching to the implication of yelling and the look on dustin's face—who had his eyes scrunched closed and his white teeth showing as the were clenched down, wincing.

"dustin!"

"who's that?" steve whispered, demanding the answer as the sound of your footfalls were also echoing through the house and closer to them.

"my sister," he sounded miserable, but defeated as he turned back around and back toward the front door where you were there to meet him, looking absolutely fuming.

steve's eyes widened, slightly taking a step back at the sight of you. you were not what he expected--i mean he didn't expect anyone because he didn't know dustin had a sister in the first place, but he also didn't expect you to be so pretty.

"dustin."

"yes?" his voice was distraught as he looked at his feet, already ready for your scolding.

"why is my baseball bat covered in nails?" you repeated the question, only this time more calm, but the anger was practically soaking your voice.

"uh, funny you should ask, actually," he giggled nervously, his pointer finger coming up as if to make a point, but he ran out of words immediately.

"project," steve finished for him fast, already being able to tell if the boy kept speaking, he'd probably be hung.

you now looked up from dustin and toward steve. you were looking at him as if you hadn't even noticed him until he started speaking. you frowned, looking at him strangely, very strangely.

"dustin," your voice was low as you were now leaned down to his ear, "why is steve harrington on our front lawn?"

"also funny that you ask."

"charity," steve says fast, once again interrupting dustin from furthering this situation into somewhere it didn't need to be. "good for the college application, you know? i'm spending the day with your brother, doing whatever he wants."

you look between the two and steve can tell by how confused you are, you won't push it further. this was very strange for you.

"yeah, whatever," your voice is still low, "just.. buy me a new fucking bat, make that apart of your charity, alright?" you turn around and walk back into the house before he can even answer.

steve is just beyond shock as dustin slowly turns around to face him, already preparing himself for the heat of questions.

"henderson, you didn't tell me you had a sister."

"yeah, for a very good reason."

“your sister’s hot.”

“hey, man, let’s not get so vulgar," dustin's hands raise as he joins steve's side and they begin to walk back toward his car. "that's my sister."

"and she plays baseball?" he exclaims, "how could you keep this from me, it's a fucking crime!”

"steve, you're a whore, i don’t know if you know that—thought i should be the first one to tell you—but that's why i didn't tell you about my sister."

"still man..!"

navigation.

key to my heart.

pairings. steve harrington x fem!henderson!reader

about. reader is tired of steve always being on her doorstep, ringing the doorbell in the late hours of the night.

warnings. foul language, gif not mine

ricky rocks. if you have to complain about something, just scroll 😒 don’t waste energy ruining someone else’s mood

“do i have to give you a key or something?”

steve laughs lowly and almost dryly, staring back at you and immediately his hand goes to clasp the back of his neck nervously like a tick.

“yeah that probably would be… easier.. i guess,” his voice dies out in the back of his throat as he replies; he was really nervous.

“stop showing up after 10 pm, harrington,” you shift backwards on the heals of your feet, “some people have things to do in the morning.”

you slam the door shut.

it had been a month after steve had first met you and from then on, it had been short meetings just like this one; him on your front door step in the late hours of the night, in query of your brother.

this was unusual; before, steve used to always wait in his car for dustin, but now he found the short walk to your door enjoyable and almost exhilarating in hopes to see you.

even if seeing you meant being publicly embarrassed or knocking off a few years of his life by how loud you yelled and how much stress he underwent when seeing your face.

“hey, sorry about that,” dustin appeared, shutting the door quietly behind him with a look of distraught on his face. “she gets really moody when she hasn’t had her sleep.”

“no, it’s all good,” steve waves the excuse off as they now begin to walk down to his car. “i find every encounter with your sister… very delightful.”

“somehow, i don’t believe you’re joking,” dustin looks up at steve in skepticism, almost stopping to fully analyze him.

“oh, c’mon man,” he huffs, “you know i’m not serious.”

but there’s a pause in steve’s voice that makes dustin think otherwise, “you know… i don’t think she likes you.”

“really?” steve sounded surprised… genuinely surprised.

“yeah, man,” dustin nodded slowly, slightly confused on how he hadn’t realized this, “i’m pretty sure you stress her out, because lately, she’s a bit more bitchy. you ruin her schedule.”

“i do?”

“yes, she has to take thirty minutes out of her usual routine just for you. she anticipates your visits, you throw her off.”

“she makes time for me?”

the awe in steve’s voice makes dustin slightly cringe, now looking over to him with narrowed vision, “that’s not what i mean…”

**

“alright, i’ll be right back. you can just go and chill in the car.”

dustin waved steve off as he stepped foot into his house, ditching steve on the front porch for a pack of batteries—or whatever the nerd needed, making him frown.

it was currently noon; steve was helping dustin with another one of his dead end projects to keep them busy for the week.

“yeah, tell me when i can chill in my own car,” steve rolled his eyes, turning toward his car in slight annoyance.

“harrington,” the sound of your voice made him pause, turning right around on the heal of his foot to see you marching toward him.

oh boy.

he anticipated what you would do the closer you got, almost wincing, until;

“open your hand.”

“huh?”

you grabbed his arm, jerking his hand into your own, “here,” you slapped a small object into the palm of his hand, “don’t abuse this. i don’t want to see you just randomly lounging around here or by the pool with my mom… this isn’t an invitation for.. whatever, got it?”

you gave him a pointed look the whole time, closing his hand around the small cold item. steve felt like a puddle of melted ice cream for some reason, completely compliant to your words and small hold on his hand—helpless.

“you got it, steve?”

his chest puffed as he inhaled sharply, suddenly drawn away from the fixation of your face and touch, and back to the reality of your stern words, “yes, don’t worry, y/n. no mother—sitting—lounging—just…”

his words draw out before he fully stops himself, catching onto the strange look you gave him and the loosening of your hand around his.

“yeah… okay,” you turned on your heal slowly before disappearing back into your home.

he exhaled, relieved before looking down to his still clenched hand. steve couldn’t help smile to himself as he slowly opened his palm to reveal the metal key to your residents—oh shit.

“you lucky bastard,” dustin shook his head, appearing around the corner, “i don’t even have a key, lost mine so many times, she stopped replacing it. now i gotta use the porch key.”

that made steve grin harder, “henderson, your sister has the key to my goddamn heart.”

“dear lord, steve, let’s not get corny this early in the afternoon.”

navigation.

Cock Blocking

Steve Harrington x reader

~★~❤︎~✦~

You and Steve started dating four months ago. Both of you decided to keep it a secret mainly due to your little brother, Dustin Henderson. The two of you knew that Dustin would throw a huge fit if he found out one of his closest friends was dating his sister. So you’ve been keeping it a secret lately though it's becoming increasingly harder. Every time the two of you are about to be intimate Dustin interrupts either by banging on the door or calling him over the walkie-talkie. It was driving the two of you crazy. 

Tonight Dustin was having a sleepover over at Mike’s leaving you hope you may actually get laid. You snuck out of the house and over to Steve’s. As soon as you walked through his front door his lips were on yours. Bumping into the walls as you made your way to his bedroom. He picks you up once you were up the stairs carrying you to his bed. His lips were all over body , little sounds of pleasure leaving your lips. “God I missed you it’s been ages since I’ve felt you” Steve groaned against your chest. You nodded your head in agreement. 

Meanwhile outside in the bushes at Steve's house stood Dustin, Max, and Lucas. They shared a single pair of binoculars between the three of them. The bush scraped against Max’s legs making her cuss under her breath. “Remind me again why we are snooping around Steve's backyard.

Dustin rolled his eyes grabbing the binoculars from Lucas so he could peer through Steve's bedroom window. “He's been acting weird and I want to know why” Dustin looked through the binoculars watching Steve come into view. Steve only had his boxers on his hair tousled slightly. “Jesus Steve’s harry he needs to shave” Lucas grabbed the binoculars peering through them to see Steve’s harry chest

“Some girls like that,” Lucas muttered. It looked like Steve was talking to someone but he couldn’t tell from here. 

“Let me see '' Max pushed her way to Lucas pushing him out of the way and grabbing the binoculars to take a look for herself. She didn’t say anything making both boys blush. As Max is watching she sees a hand pop up grabbing Steve and pulling him back to the bed. Max's eyes widened in horror even more when she saw you pop grabbing a box off his desk before moving out of sight. You and Steve are having sex and sees watching. With that realization she turns away pulling the binoculars down.

“What's the matter?” Dustin asks, the girl can’t help but blush not looking at him. She already knew how he was going to react. “Let me see” he went to grab the binoculars but she quickly moved away not wanting him to risk seeing anything.

“I found out what's up with Steve” Dustin nodded, eager to find out what's the matter. “He’s seeing someone” both boys told her to continue. She hesitantly did “Its Y/n” both boys' mouths fell agape.

“No, are you sure let me see” she moved once more. 

“You don’t want to see” Dustin gave her a confused look until he saw her face. He finally understood what she meant and he was fuming as he made his way out of the bushes heading straight for the front door. Max and Lucas tried to stop him but he was determined banging on the front door till Steve opened the door. 

~~

You hand Steve the box of condoms waiting for him to put one on. He makes quick work of it tossing the box to the side before slipping the condom on. His tip was grazing your entrance. You were so ready for him. Right as he was pushing into you banging sounded at the front door. Steve and you both let out a cry, the two of you both frustrated. The banging didn’t stop, so Steve reluctantly got out of bed heading for the front door. He gathered his clothes till he was fully dressed. He was pulling the door open while putting on his shirt. His movement stopped when his eyes locked on Dustin and his friends. 

Of course it was Dustin who else it would be. He was about to ask what was up when Dustin pushed past him heading right up his stairs. Steve tried to get him to stop but it was pointless he wasn’t listening. Dustin was seeing red when he slammed open Steve's bed and found you laying in it with Steve's shirt on. Your eyes widened in horror at the sight of Dustin and his friends. “What the hell are you doing here you're supposed to be at a sleepover” you spoke first. 

“What are you doing here?” Dustin counters. His eyes are taking in the scene and when he sees the box of condoms he blows. He turns to Steve “You're sleeping with my sister!” Steve couldn’t help the blush on his cheeks, he had no idea what to say. You and Steve were trying to keep it from Dustin and now that he knew he had no idea what to say. “Is no one going to answer me”

“Yes me and Steve are dating” you finally answer

The shock was evident on his face “How long have you been dating” 

“Four months”

“Four months you’ve been dating Steve for four months and you haven't told me.” You just nodded your head. This was not going as planned as you had thought how to tell Dustin for a while and this was never one of the ways. “Why didn’t you tell me” hurt laced his voice. 

“We were going to” Steve interjected. 

“What were you even doing here?” you changed the subject confused how he even found out. 

“Maybe you should close the window before having” he made a hand gesture between you and Steve. Unable to say the word. 

“Oh my god, you were peeping through the window, what's the matter with you” you could not believe your brother is a peeping tom. 

“It's not like that we just wanted to see what's wrong with Steve now we know he sleeping with my Sister”

“It's not like that” Steve was trying to diffuse the situation but Dustin was having none of it. 

“I can’t believe this,” Dustin muttered under his breath. 

“Dustin this doesn’t concern you, okay I get your shock but me and Steve's relationship doesn’t have anything to do with yours guys” Dustin didn’t say anything he just stood there staring you down. 

“This is not happening, we're leaving” He grabbed your arm trying to pull you out of the room. You resisted him keeping yourself planted on the bed. 

“Dustin I love you but I’m not going, you and your friends need to leave”

“I’m not leaving you here”

“I’m not dying I’m just getting laid” Dustin covers his ears along with the other two kids. Steve's face was red at the statement. 

“Don’t say that you're my sister” 

“And you Dustin are the biggest Cock block in the whole world” You can hear Max giggle in the background. 

“What are you talking about” 

“Every time me and Steve are about to.. You interrupt” Dustin smiled at the knowledge, happy to have stopped you two. 

“Its time to go now“ Dustin reiterated, You got off the bed making Dustin think you were leaving with him. Instead you grab Steve's hand and lead him over to the bed sitting him down on it before climbing into his lap. All three kids' eyes widened at the action. Placing a small kiss on Steve's lips you turn to look at the three of them. “Me and Steve are about to go back to what we were doing so unless you want to see that I suggest you leave” Dustin doesn’t move staring you down daring you to make a move. You accept his challenge, grabbing the hem of his shirt you start pulling it off him. Steve made a move to stop you when his stomach was on show for everyone. You didn’t stop, you weren't going to be the person to give up and you weren't  Dustin turned around and headed right out the door Lucas and Max following behind him. “Lock the door on your way out”

You turn back to Steve kissing his lips once more. Your hands trailing down his front removing your shirt. In a few seconds the two of you are back in sync, Steve and you are both naked. He reaches for the box pulling out another condom before slipping it on. He froze before entering you waiting for the knock at his door or the static sound of the walkie-talkie. When he was greeted with silence he smiled before thrusted into making both of you let out a needy moan. 

Designated Driver

Steve Harrington x Reader

~★~❤︎~✦~

The party was winding down when Steve started making his way through the house searching for the three of you.

Eddie was the easiest to find, his laughter sounding loudly throughout the living room. As he walked closer the smell of weed filled the air, making him grimace. “Come on Eddie we're going home” Steve called, Eddie just nodded giggling as Steve dragged him to the car. He sat him in the backseat telling him he would be back in a minute. Eddie just nodded sprawling out, his eyes already closing. 

He finds Robin next sitting on the kitchen counter snaking on a large bag of chips. It doesn't take much to get her to the car, all he did was grab her chips. Eddie barely reacted to the girl sliding into the backseat. Just like Eddie, she slumps against the seat, still munching on her chips. 

You are harder to find, he searched the entire house for you. He began to worry when he couldn’t find you. Before he went into a full-blown panic attack he found you sitting by the pool. Gently splash the water with your feet. You smiled when Steve walked up to you, “Hi Stevie” a little wave accompanied your words.

He can’t help but smile back at you, “Hey, you feeling alright?” you nod your head very enthusiastically. 

“Of course, I feel amazing, I’m having so much fun the water feels amazing you should join me.” 

“Maybe another time, right now I need to get you guys back to the house.” you pouted a little before sighing. Pulling yourself out of the water, you grab your shoes before making your way back to Steve. 

“Carry me?” you make the cutest grabbing hands at him, how on earth could he refuse you? He picks you up smiling as you tightly wrap your arms around him, pushing your face against his neck. 

“Hey, that’s not fair” Eddie whines when Steve sets you into the front seat. 

“Yeah you made us walk” Robin adds. You just chuckle a little, turning yourself so you're facing them.

“It’s because I’m Steve's favorite” You look at Steve locking eyes with him as he buckles you into your seat. “I’m your favorite right?” Steve just chuckles, nodding his head just barely making your smile grow. 

The car ride is silent, the three of you passing out almost instantly. Robins' is the only one that wakes up when he pulls into the driveway. He takes her in the house first followed by Eddie who he had to basically carry into the house.

You're much less of a hassle to carry. As he picks you up you groggily lift your head and look around. Steve's voice draws your attention, whispering a soft “Go back to sleep”. At his words you let your head fall back to his shoulder, tightening your grip around his neck. You're almost back to sleep when he sets you on the bed. You can’t help but whine when he pulls away from you, missing his warmth. 

“I’ll be back, I'm just grabbing some clothes for you” he helped you into more comfortable clothes. He followed suit, dressing in pajamas before climbing into bed next to you. “Goodnight” Steve closes his eyes ready for sleep to take him. Only to open his eyes again when he feels you shift beside him. 

You place a soft kiss against his lips, “Thank you for taking care of me tonight Steve”

“I’ll always take care of you”

You smile letting your head rest against his chest. “I love you Steve, goodnight” He places a small kiss on the top of your head, a soft ‘I love you too’ leaving his lips before he falls asleep. 

this is so good and cute!!

44 and Steve because you KNOW Steve would be the mom to kiss his girl in front of the gang because he knows they hate it

You’re so right bestie

44. public kisses

Warnings: F!reader

The summer of 1986 was shaping up to be a good one. Hawkins was in the middle of a heatwave that had everyone flocking to the outdoors to enjoy the sunshine, and Steve was no exception. He had his favourite sunglasses perched in his hair, the cut-off denim shorts that you had helped him make when his favourite jeans got ripped on his legs, and the new Queen album playing quietly through the car stereo.

And a car full of sugar-rushed teenagers.

“-listen to something else now? This song sucks,” Mike was complaining.

Steve glared at him in the rear view mirror and opened his mouth to reply, but Max beat him to it.

“Shut the fuck up, Wheeler. You’ve got no taste.”

“Says the one who listens to Kate Bush on repeat.”

“Anyone slanders Kate Bush and they’re walking to the lake,” Steve warned without taking his eyes off of the road as he turned into your street.

A chorus of mocking “oooh”s came from the kids, and he barely resisted rolling his eyes. He still wasn’t quite sure how his life had turned out this way, spending his summer chauffeuring for a bunch of nerds, but the sight of you coming out of your front door was the perfect distraction.

Your face lit up at the sight of him and he felt his stomach flip pleasantly at the delighted wave you sent him as you came down the path. Your eyes were obscured by your sunglasses, an oversized T-shirt almost slipping off of your shoulder under your dungarees and giving him a tantalising glimpse of the strap of your bikini.

He wasn’t sure how he had gotten lucky enough to spend his summer as your boyfriend either, but he certainly wasn’t complaining.

His smile only widened as you ducked your head bashfully as you came down the path, feeling the warmth of his adoring eyes on you. It never ceased to amaze him how surprised you always seemed by how much he loved you, how beautiful you were to him, how-

Dustin’s face appearing from his periphery and blocking his view of you pulled him harshly from his reverie.

“You disgust me,” the boy announced.

“Like you don’t stare at Suzy,” Steve shot back.

“I don’t actually, because my love is too far away for my eyes to reach,” Dustin replied loftily.

“Cry me a fucking river, Shakespeare.”

You had reached the car by that point and, spotting Dustin in the passenger seat, went to open the back door. Steve’s eyes widened.

“Nope, absolutely not. Henderson, move.”

Dustin stared at him incredulously.

“What the hell, Steve? I was first to get picked up, ergo I get to ride shotgun.”

“But now we’re picking up my girlfriend, ergo you need to move.”

“Do you even know what ergo means?”

“I know you can ergo sit in the back or you can ergo home, dipshit.”

You were watching in amusement from outside the car. You wouldn’t have minded sitting in the back but your boyfriend’s antics were so cute.

As Dustin got out of the passenger seat and slipped under your arm to get to the back door, grumbling, you gave him an apologetic look before climbing into the front seat.

“Hi, baby,” Steve greeted you sweetly as you fastened your seatbelt.

As soon as you were secure, he leaned over to give you a soft kiss that warmed you from the inside out. The moment was only slightly ruined by the kids’ disgusted groans from the backseat.

“Gross, you guys.”

“There are kids here!”

“In public? Seriously?”

Steve broke the kiss with an annoyed sigh and you bit your lip to stop yourself giggling at him.

“The next person who tells me what to do in my own car is getting kicked out. Clear?”

He was met with polite silence, and he grinned at you.

“That’s what I thought.”

summers at the country club with old money!steve <3 him refusing to go to his summer house without you, because he can’t bare going three months without seeing his best girl, come on I need you there, I'm not going otherwise, and he does everything to convince you, things that would be very hard to resist and he knows that, that's why he's so smug when you agree, a pretty grin on his lips as he's telling you to pack instantly

and it’s so beautiful there, because of course it is, everything's so old money, and steve fits right in, he’s got his hair pushed back and his best clothes on, a shiny watch on his wrist, and he’s taking your hand as he shows you around, taking you down hallways just to pull you into the some tiny strorage closet, you’re acting like teenagers but its cute, it’s more than cute when steve’s lips are dragging down your neck as he pulls your leg up to his waist, and he swears you won’t get caught

and you’re obsessed with watching him while he’s here too, he sleeps in later, twisted in bright white bedsheets with messy hair on his pillow, he pours you sparkling drinks into tall glasses then sips his own, leaving his lips slightly sticky and sweet tasting, and his skin’s a little tanned, his freckles have come out more, he's even a little burnt across the bridge of his nose, (but it's okay because you're there to kiss it better), and he’s running around a tennis court all sweaty, flashing smiles at you, he’s just even more dreamy here 🤍

oh my god. steve harrington with a dreamy/luna lovegood like girlfriend would be so sweet! i feel like he would love how she’s always so kind and her head’s always in the clouds. he’d find her adorable, especially when she out of nowhere says something a little odd.

“What was that?” Steve asks. 

You aren’t talking to him, but he pretends you were. 

“I said, the sun doesn’t look very happy today.” 

Steve finds the sun, a white ache in his eyes behind a buffet of clouds. “I can’t tell.”

“Exactly.” 

Steve gets his arms under your armpits to drag you into his chest. You’re always content to be moved around, especially if it’s Steve doing the lifting. You slot yourself into his embrace unthinking. 

“I think you’d be much happier if you had a couch on the porch,” you say, “though maybe you’d suddenly like rock metal too. What do you think they have it for?” 

“Not sure. Afternoon people watching, maybe.” 

“Well, this is fun.” 

Eddie and Robin attempt to set up the sprinkler and water slide in the grass. Neither seems to have noticed that it’s too cold for this sort of play, both dedicated to the last day of summer. Usually you entertain either of them, partial to nonsense, but today you’ve stuck by Steve’s side. Probably because you’re cold. 

“I might get one, if you want one,” he says. 

“You know you can get a couch from the Salvation Army for ten bucks.” 

“And the bedbugs for free.” 

You laugh loudly, suddenly, before it chokes into a fizzy sort of giggle. “Most bugs are cute, but they give me the heebies.” 

“I don’t need any more strange creatures in bed with me, either way.” 

“You mean me.” You turn in his arms. He loves to feel it, your skin under his hands, the total ease you feel being smushed against him like two pieces of bread in the same pack. You jam yourself against him, your fingers working behind his neck. Cold. Rings tickling him, your fingernails scratching gently. “But I’m not a creature,” you murmur, “and I won’t be in your bed again, if that’s how you feel.” 

“Then who will help you fall asleep?” he asks. 

“I volunteer!” Eddie calls. 

“He looks like he gives a good back rub,” you say. 

Steve tips you away from him. “Idiot.” 

“Steve, doesn’t he?” you ask. “Eddie, come over here and rub our backs.” 

“Stay where you are,” Steve says to Eddie firmly. He pushes you away from him, trying his best not to laugh as you giggle and whine at being pushed. “Get lost.” 

“I’m going to take my shirt off now.” 

“For the back rub?” Steve asks, whiplashed. 

“No, doofus, for the water slide! Why would I take my shirt off for a back rub?” 

“I’ll show you why.” 

“I already know you’re good at them,” you say. 

“I’ll show you again.” 

You pause. A smile stretches over your lips. “Mm, okay.” 

yup, i'm back in this rabbit hole. author's just cooking masterpieces every time.

Steve Harrington x fem!reader [18.7k] prompt: "Can I kiss you?" Childhood friends to lovers, growing up together, that damn garden gate, a slow burn like summer.

1979. Fever dream high in the quiet of the night. 

When you were twelve years old, you moved to Hawkins, Indiana: population twelve thousand. 

It had cedar lined streets, an old town hall, an outdoor pool behind a chain link fence, one supermarket and a boy next door called Steve Harrington. 

You saw him from your bedroom window, his across from yours, the house your parents bought only a stone's throw away from his. He waved at you through the glass, smile wide, hair messy and wild. He had a scrape on his cheek from falling off his bike, a poster above his bed for a band you’d never heard of. 

The next morning, he knocked on your front door and asked you if you wanted to go to the arcade with him. You rode on the back of his bike, hands clutching his shoulders, eyes bright and wide and Steve shared a slushie with you, tongues raspberry blue, cheeks sticky and sun kissed. 

He taught you how to play pac man, hands already so much bigger than yours when he slid them over your own, joystick between your fingers, laughter bubbling in your chest when you won. 

Steve came back the next morning, and the next, the days bleeding into one long summer in a new town that was all wheat fields and quarries, dust roads and white picket fences. 

Then a year later, a week after your thirteenth birthday, you came home from your grandparents in the new dress your parents bought you, a pretty, sunflower yellow thing that fell to your knees and fluttered when you spun. 

You ran straight to the Harrington’s house, one hand knocking impatiently on the door, the other holding the box of sugar cookies you had insisted on saving and taking home to Steve. 

You weren’t sure when it had happened, not really. But at some point over the course of twelve months, Steve Harrington had become your best friend. It happened the way summer did, a slow roll into warmth and blue skies, the familiarity of seeing him every day, the same way the sun slipped through the cracks in your bedroom window shutters. 

He was bike rides, fresh banana muffins from the bakery on Main Street, water balloon fights when you were supposed to be in bed, running in the back yard as your parents shared wine and barbecue dinners. He got taller, his hair got wilder and you both got closer. 

Steve opened the door, smile wide, eyes bright, just for you. He took a cookie and your hand, leading you to his bedroom as his parents yelled out their greetings from the kitchen and you tumbled into his room, chest bursting with how happy you were ‘cause the entire car ride home, you had been so excited to see Steve. 

Steve had too many pillows on his too big bed, a guitar in the corner, a basketball shirt in a frame above his desk. There were books lining shelves, a stereo on his dresser and towers of cassette tapes. His room always smelled like fresh air and boy, something minty, the summer sneaking in from his always open window, the chlorine from the pool below. 

He’d turned to you then, eyes wide and cheeks blushing, taking in your bare shins with their new bruises, one from falling in your skates, the other from tripping outside the library. Steve was yet to turn fourteen but he decided then that yellow was his favourite colour, buttercup bright, that deep rich shade that was painted on your dress. 

“You look like a princess,” he said earnestly, voice soft with embarrassment ‘cause Kyle from school said it wasn’t cool to be best friends with a girl. 

Steve had told him to shut up, brows knitted together, cheeks blushing and he’d spent that rest of recess so confused, ‘cause the boy thought you were the coolest person he knew. 

You flushed at his words, nose scrunched and you picked at the hem of your dress, dipping into a clumsy curtsy, the way all the Disney princess did on the tapes your mom let you watch. 

“Thanks,” you beamed, all teeth and sore cheeks ‘cause Steve always made you smile real hard. 

You felt nervous then, wondering where you and your yellow sundress fit into Steve’s room, but the moment broke, that unfamiliar jitter in your stomach disappeared Steve tugged you down onto his navy blue carpet, NES console beeping as it came to life and he handed you the extra controller, smile bright. 

The day turned to night too quickly, the way it always did when you were with Steve, and soon enough the Harrington’s phone was ringing and Steve’s mom was yelling up the stairs, telling you it was time to go home for dinner. 

Steve walked you out like he always did, shoulders touching as you both hurried down the stairs, eyes tired from the TV screen, fingers sticky from sugar cookies. The sun was just starting to set, the world outside was hazy and peach coloured, lavender clouds low in the sky and everything smelled like cut grass and your mom’s lemon trees. 

Steve walked you to where his lawn met yours, the streets tired and empty ‘cause the summer heat was still lingering, making the air heavy and sweet. You watched as the boy chewed his lip, uncharacteristically nervous, backs of hands brushing as you walked across the grass, damp blades brushing your bare ankles and you wondered why your best friend's cheeks were so pink. 

“Paul Matthews kissed Gemma Kennedy under the bleachers,” he suddenly blurted out, and you frowned, lips twisting. 

“He did?” You asked, unsure of why this news was being shared. You didn’t like Paul Matthews, he was annoying and never gave anyone else a shot of the swings at recess. “What’d he say?”

Steve shrugged, all boyish and innocent. “He said it was kinda gross.”

“Gross,” you repeated, features scrunched. “Why’d Gemma wanna kiss him anyways? Paul smells like gym socks.”

Steve snorted, a shoulder bumping into yours. You could smell your dad’s pasta from the open kitchen window, the pop of a bottle being opened, soft music from one of your mom’s favourite bands. 

“Do I smell like gym socks?” The boy asked, suddenly self conscious and you poked at his ribs, head shaking. 

“No,” you told him earnestly, voice all quiet and sweet ‘cause it was like you were both the only two in Hawkins at that moment. “You smell nice. Like cookies and bubblegum.”

He grinned, too pleased with your assessment and before you hopped over the flowerbed that split your home with Steve’s, he caught your hand, palm a little clammy. 

He murmured your name, voice shy and it made your tummy tumble in a way that you still didn’t understand, not properly, not yet. 

You turned, eyes wide ‘cause you were both reaching an age where boys and girls didn’t really hold hands playing in the street anymore, and if they did, it meant something else. It made kids whisper in the playground, pass notes in the classroom and suddenly watching the older students kiss each other at their lockers didn’t seem as icky. 

“Have you kissed anyone?” Steve asked you, voice laced with curiosity. 

You flushed, heart raging, pulse picking up ‘cause you hadn’t and suddenly it felt like the most embarrassing thing in the world. But Steve still had his hand over yours and he squeezed your fingers a little tighter, and something about it felt so reassuring, like he’d keep every secret you gifted him. 

“No.” A pause, a worry, a flutter of nerves. “Have you?”

Were you supposed to? Was a boy meant to like you now? Has Steve kissed a girl? Have you missed something monumental? 

“No.”

Oh. A beat of silence that seemed to stretch an age. 

“Can I kiss you?”

Oh. 

“You wanna kiss me?” You asked, lashes blinking slow, mouth parted. You could taste the sugar cookies you’d shared with Steve still melting on your tongue. “Me?”

Steve stumbled over his words, cheeks flushed rose and he licked at his lips, unsure of what to say ‘cause Jesus Christ he was thirteen years old and had no idea what he was doing. But he remembered something that Paul had said to him, legs kicking as they sat on the swings together, sun beating down on their backs.

“Wish I had kissed Kimmy Cheng instead,” the boy had said, somewhat thoughtful, brows scrunched. “I really like Kimmy, maybe that would’ve made it better.”

It had made Steve think then, chewing at his cheek ‘cause the only girl he really liked was you, his best friend. You didn’t make him nervous, and when the movies you watched with him got too scary, you held his hand, face behind a pillow and he didn’t hate that. Not at all. 

“I mean, I guess?” Steve mumbled and god, he didn’t understand why his stomach was flipping over, that same feeling he got when he decided he was gonna climb that old oak tree over by Fifth, the one that was too high, that had thick branches that swallowed the world below your feet. “Would be easier if our first kiss was with each other. Might be less embarrassin’, y’know?”

That made sense, you thought, ‘cause you really didn’t want another boy telling everyone your kisses were gross and Steve wouldn’t make fun of you if you were bad at it, would he?

“Okay.” You said decisively, and you took a deep breath, wondering why your heart was beating so fast, the same way it did when Steve went too fast on his bike, your fingers digging crescent moons into his shoulders, eyes tearing up at the whipping find, hair covering your face and his. “Now?”

“Now?” He repeated eyes wide and then he swore, quiet, ‘cause he wasn’t supposed to and his hand readjusted his grip on yours, palms clammy and fingers linking. 

You hadn’t held hands like that before. It felt different, a little funny, closer.

But before you could comment on it, the boy was leading you between the two houses, the air warm and trapped between bricks and he opened his garden gate, feet clumsy as you both half ran down the skinny strip of yard at the side of his home. 

It was overgrown there, the little hidden patch of long grass and wildflowers that grew underneath Steve’s bedroom window and it smelled like honeysuckle and lavender. You could hear the trickle of the pool, your mom’s music and the setting sun cut through the slats in the fences in stripes, lighting you both up with gold and bronze. 

It smelled like summer, you decided, the perfect July day and when Steve spun to face you, you let out a noise of surprise. You were happy to notice that he seemed nervous too, teeth pulling at his bottom lip, hand tugging through his already wild hair.

But you were both hidden there, in the edges of the garden, stolen away from the rest of the town and out of sight of your parents. It felt like the biggest secret of all, one to lock away in the depths of your journal and this felt so much more than giving away the last cookie, more than backseat bike rides and a handmade friendship bracelet, more than sleepovers on Steve’s living room floor, heads touching when you fell asleep.

“What do we do?” you asked, nothing more than a soft whisper. 

Steve shrugged, heart rattling against his ribcage and he licked his bottom lip and stumbled a little closer. The toes of his trainers touched your sandals and he was already a little taller than you but he blinked, gaze settling on you from underneath thick, dark lashes and you gulped.

“I don’t really know,” Steve murmured, hands flexing by his sides ‘cause he wasn’t sure if he was supposed to hold yours, or place them on your sides, your shoulders. 

He shoved them in his pockets instead, hiding the way they shook a little with nerves and he gasped when you moved closer still, knees bumping clumsy against his own and he could count the freckles on your nose, and he wondered if they matched the ones on his skin, a present from long summer days outside.

“Will I just-?” Steve’s voice cracked and he flushed but you didn’t mention it, you didn’t laugh, you never did. “Should I?”

You weren’t sure what possessed you, maybe all the sugar you’d consumed, maybe it was the heat of sun on your shoulders, maybe it was the way your tummy was rolling with nerves and worry but you grasped at Steve’s shoulders, pushing yourself up onto your toes and pressed your lips to the boy’s without any sort of announcement. 

Another gasp, warm skin, nails digging into arms, two pairs of eyes wide, noses bumping. 

It lasted a few seconds, maybe less. But your lips were tingling when you pulled away, cheeks a new kind of hot and Steve looked a little shellshocked. You both rocked on your heels into the grass, too tall lavender brushing against your shins and then the boy smiled, a burst of sunshine in the shadows, and he looked delighted.

You were sure your ears were burning, the tips feeling hot and when you looked at Steves, you found his were pink too. You beamed, a nervous giggle, a laugh that got caught in your chest and when you heard your mom’s voice call from the back door - so close to where you were both still standing - you jumped, two kids trying not to be caught doing something they shouldn't.

The garden gate squeaked when you ran back through it, the hinges calling after you and you smelled like a bouquet of flowers as you ran across both lawns, feet tripping over your front porch as you ran inside. 

Something pretty bloomed in between the spaces of your bones that day, when Steve Harrington decided that you were both going to be each other's first kiss. It stayed there, for so much longer than you thought it would. You’d always remember it as brown sugar and vanilla, lavender and honeysuckle, feeling brave, honey coloured eyes and complete and utter innocence. 

1981. Devils roll their dice, angels roll their eyes, what doesn’t kill me makes me want you more.

You didn’t even want to go to the party, you didn’t even like Karen Vincent and you were damn sure she didn’t like you. You knew you were only invited because of Steve, a slip of pink paper passed to you after Karen and her friend Shauna slid between you and the boy at his locker, hands on his chest, on his arm.

You’d wrinkled your nose at it all, fingertips gripping the invite like a ticking time bomb but the girls had learnt the hard way that Steve wouldn’t show if you weren’t welcomed too. 

It’s how you found yourself crammed into the Vincent’s basement with too many other fifteen year olds, the music making the walls vibrate, the punch bowl spiked with something that shouldn’t have been mixed with fruit juice and god, it was too warm. 

It was just past ten o’clock and your parents wanted you home for eleven, which meant that, by default, that was Steve’s curfew too. You’d both been allowed to walk home on the condition that you stuck together and kept to the main roads, the summer months making the nights light enough that you could see both the sun and the moon in the sky, the clouds a hazy orange as they sunk into the horizon. 

You’d spoke to a few kids you shared some classes with, avoided the snack table and its fizzing punch bowl, the concoction no longer the same colour it was when Karen’s mom poured it. And then there was a pop of a bottle cork, splashes of spilled liquid on the already sticky floors, some cheers and a circle was made. 

Fuck. 

“Seven minutes in heaven!” Yelled a boy you didn’t really know, some kid from the same basketball team as Steve, “let’s go losers!”

There was a symphony of wolf whistles and giggles as kids piled into the middle of the room, coffee tables and armchairs pushed out of the way in favour of a seat on the floor, knee to knee and shoulder to shoulder with their classmates, eyes wide and searching for their next possible date to the arcade. 

“Harrington!” the same boy called out, “get in here!” 

Steve appeared beside you, hand brushing gently on your elbow and you frowned without meaning to, wondering why it’d taken him so long to return from the bathroom. But then you saw Karen by his other side, lips glossy and smacking blue bubblegum, eyes sharp on you as she grinned.

“Are you playing Steve?” she asked, lashes blinking, voice coy. 

You grimaced, already taking a step back from the ever growing circle. Someone was placing the now empty bottle in the middle and you eyed the closet door across the room like an old nemesis. Your stomach was twirling, and it wasn’t from all the pizza rolls but the smell of chocolate pretzels and red vines wasn’t helping. 

But Steve’s hand curled around your arm, still gentle, but he could read you like a book. He tsked, his smile playful but eyes gentle, as if he could feel the nerves radiate off of you. Maybe he could, maybe he could hear the way your heart rattled inside your chest, louder than the music, deeper than the bass.

“Ah, ah, ah,” he admonished, crowding into you a little so he could find your ear with his mouth. He was so much taller than you now, the top of your head barely reaching his chin and you scowled, knowing what was coming. “Where you goin’ princess?”

“Home,” you told him stubbornly and you suddenly hated the way your denim skirt was sticking to your thighs, too constricting, too warm. 

You heard him sigh, making a noise that only a best friend could, the sound of someone being done with your shit but loving you nonetheless. You moved backwards, hips bumping into the table that was piled high with empty red cups and the boy followed, a puppy at your feet, the same way it had been for three years now. 

“Aw c’mon,” Steve groaned, “if you go home, I gotta leave too and you promised me you’d stay until curfew.”

You huffed, arms crossed protectively over your chest, ‘cause you hated the way people were starting to stare. They always did with you and Steve, especially when he touched you like, so casually, so gently. 

“I can leave on my own, Steve, I’m a big girl.”

No you weren’t. You were fifteen and still scared of the dark after Steve made you watch Day Of The Dead when both of your parents were out late at the new Italian restaurant just outside of town. 

But then, a poke to your arm, your cheek, the end of your nose. You swatted at him, hiding your smile between a press of your lips.

“You know my mom would kill me if I let you walk home alone,” he grumbled but it was soft, still gentle. “Fuck, your mom would kill me after.”

“You can’t be killed twice, stupid,” you said but it lacked heat, an excuse to say something other than agreeing to a game you didn’t wanna play. 

He still knew you too well, scoffing at your evasion, hand curling warm around your wrist and pulling you back to the party, back to him, bodies bumping in a too close proximity that became more tense with every year that you got older. 

It was becoming harder to ignore that your best friend was pretty. You were sure he’d wrinkle his nose at your choice of adjective but Steve grew up and missed the awkward stage, shoulders broad at the same time he grew a foot, wild hair becoming only a little tamer, more product in it and eyes still warm and brown, a new dimple in his cheek you loved to press your finger into. 

You’d heard the other girls in your year call him hot, a total babe, whispered through giggles in the locker room. But your best friend still looked at you all soft, the same way he did before he gave you his first kiss and he took yours, pressed against the honeysuckle in his backyard. He teased gently, took your hand when the streets got too dark and you were both late for curfew, pressed a foot over yours under the dinner table when your mom started talking about test results and extra curriculars. 

Steve was still your best friend. But he was really, really pretty. 

“There he is! Harrington!” Another boy -  Jake someone, from your English class - had forced his way through the crowd to clap a hand on each of your shoulders, pushing you both into the circle. “And you brought your princess, how ‘bout that, huh?”

You flushed, with both annoyance and embarrassment, ‘cause one day when you were all still twelve, Steve spotted you across the park, hands twisting around a basketball as he took in another new dress you wore and called you a princess again. It just so happened that his friends had heard it too. 

His nickname for you never left, but neither did your classmate's memory of the incident. 

And then Steve’s hand was ripped from your arm, bodies separating you both and he was manhandled to the one side of the circle, you to the other, shoulders squished between a boy and a girl you vaguely recognised from gym class, maybe biology too. It was warmer on the floor, heat and teenage hormones gathering sticky between too close bodies, the smell of cheap aftershave and someone’s mom’s perfume mixing with Kool-Aid and sprite. 

“Okay so! You guys know the rules!” Karen was standing from her spot in the circle, suspiciously opposite to Steve, eyes wide and hands animated as she gestured to the closet door on the other side of the room. “Spin the bottle and whoever it lands on is all yours for a whole seven minutes.”

The group giggled, excitement rippling through the circle, bodies shuffling, overflowing cups spilling. 

You panicked, scanning the line of faces until you found Steve’s, his eyes already on yours, knowing and soft. He was mouthing something to you, silent underneath the music and chatter. 

“It’s okay.”

But then Jake was shoving a hand to Steve’s shoulder, urging him into the middle of the circle with a raucous cheer that only teenage boys could make, the rest of the basketball team joining in and Steve bowed his head, lips twisting into an almost smile that he couldn’t really hide. 

You watched as every girl perked up like a meerkat, backs straight, hair twisted around fingers, elbows digging into competitors that tried to make their space in the circle more known. 

Your stomach rolled again and it only got worse when Steve spun the bottle and the glass flashed green in the centre, bodies bowing forward to see where it would land. 

It sounded like you were underwater, excited voices and yells sounding far away, dulled with the thump of the music. The bottle had spun and  spun and spun, landing on you with such precise finality that Karen audibly groaned. 

You looked up, Steve’s eyes wide on yours, lips parted and cheeks pink. Before either of you could speak, before you could shake your head or grab your jacket from the sofa and run up the basement stairs, your hand was grabbed by Jake, lips stretched wide and voice booming. 

“King Steve and the princess!” He cheered and his excitement was echoed by your classmates, hollers and whoops following you as the boy grabbed Steve with his other hand and the three of you were tripping over stretched legs and forgotten bottles, heading for that fucking closet door. 

“Wait!” You said, voice sharp and god, you could hear the panic there. 

You couldn’t kiss Steve. You didn’t want to kiss Steve. You shouldn’t kiss Steve. 

But Jake ignored you and the music was turned up a little louder again as the rest of the party lounged on their spaces on the floor, heads turned and tilted to watch you both with interest, and your arms only found Steve’s chest when the door was yanked open and a few sets of strange hands shoved you both in. 

The door closed, a gust of air, a click, the muffled sounds of the party locked away behind wood. It was dark, musty and your foot hit a shoe rack, your back against a bundle of winter coats that had been retired for the summer. 

“M’sorry,” Steve whispered and you knew he was referring to making you stay. You could’ve been half way home by now, trainers scuffing the edges of the sidewalk, fresh air kissing your cheeks. “Didn’t think it would land on you.”

You grunted an unladylike response as your eyes adjusted to the low light, a sliver of warm white coming in from the cracks on the door hinges, letting you see the way the boy was looking at you guiltily. 

“Whatever,” you grumbled ‘cause you really didn’t want to kiss your best friend but you hated the way Steve sounded disappointed at the idea. 

You weren’t sure how long you could keep lying to yourself, but you were certain you had another few years in you. 

“We don’t have to do anything,” he said, voice still soft, as if anyone outside of the closet could possibly hear the music and yelling. “S’not like we have to kiss.”

You snorted, chest sore in a way that felt like rejection and you hated how it stung. You looked at Steve, his eyes still on you as he shoved a hand into his jeans pocket, another raking through his hair in a way you knew all too well. He was nervous, agitated. 

“Sorry I’m not Karen Vincent,” you snarked and god, you hated the way you sounded jealous, you hated the way the words burned your tongue but Steve didn’t pick up on it. There was nothing to pick up. “Promise this wasn’t some sort of elaborate cockblocking plan.”

It was Steve’s turn to laugh, a huff of air that hit your cheek ‘cause he was so close and he was all cheap beer, gummy worms and hair gel. 

“Wouldn’t be the first time,” the boy mumbled but there was a teasing to his voice, a not so serious lilt. 

You pressed your fist into his arm anyway, a hardly there punch that packed no heat and he poked his finger into your side in retaliation. You swatted at him, glaring ‘cause he knew you were ticklish and all the movement sent an empty shoe box hurtling down from a shelf above you both. 

“I do not cockblock you,” you pouted, almost offended. 

“Not on purpose.” Steve snorted, “Took me all of freshman year to get everyone to believe you weren’t my girlfriend.”

You scrunched your nose at the memory of it, boy’s catcalling you from afar, whispers when you and Steve walked to school together every morning, the unappreciative glares from the girls who wanted him instead. 

“Whatever,” you mumbled again. “How long left?”

“It’s only been like, a minute, jeez, that bad being stuck with me princess?” Steve’s voice was teasing and his hand snuck out to grab at your waist again, touch familiar, but his fingers were tickling, poking gently at the spaces between your ribs and you wriggled against him, knees bumping off of skis and old bikes. 

“Yes,” you lied and the boy knew, ‘cause you could see the way the light through the crack lit up the curve of his grin. 

“Besides, we’ve kissed before,” Steve suddenly said, cautious and soft. His hand was still on you, cupping your elbow to hold you near and it slid down to grasp your wrist. He shrugged, eyes on the floor. “Remember?”

You warmed at the memory, wondering why on earth Steve had to bring it up now when you had both never mentioned it since.

“Of course I do,” you huffed, hating the way you sounded bothered. “It wasn’t that long ago. And it hardly even counted.”

Steve scowled, his hurt puppy expression painted across his features. Big, brown eyes set you in place with a stare. “It did so count,” he grumbled, “you were my first kiss.”

“And you were mine,” you fired back, as if this was suddenly an argument that you had to win. Steve always let you win.

“Have you kissed anyone else?” His voice was full of curiosity, void of any embarrassment, not like the way you felt when he asked you such questions. 

It made you flush, eyes wide and lips parting, as if you weren’t supposed to say, as if you weren’t supposed to let him know. Steve had told you about his kiss with Lucy Greeves, behind the bike shed, a few months back. 

He’d told you it was wet and she tasted like the chocolate milk she’d had at lunch. You remembered how he’d thrown himself into your pile of teddies and pillows at the foot of your bed, expression thoughtful as he told you he didn’t really like chocolate milk all that much. 

Then there was Samantha Duncan the year before, a game of truth or dare at the skatepark when the sun started to set and your curfews got a little later. You didn’t watch when Steve leaned into the middle of the circle, friends giggling as he pressed his lips quick to the other girls. 

“Just Miles Campbell,” you muttered, gaze lowered and set on the floor because you could feel the mischief bristle off of the boy as you spoke.

“Miles Campbell?!” He crowed, voice boisterous and no longer quiet. “He’s a giant, what did you do, climb a step ladder- ow!”

You pushed at Steve’s shoulder, face aflame. “Shut up! If you have to know, Harrington, we were sitting down.” You sounded haughty, but you didn’t care, ‘cause the boy was still laughing. 

Steve settled down, a dopey smile just on his lips and despite his teasing, his eyes were fond. Your sides bumped as he shifted, too close and not enough space in the small closet and you were so, so aware that your gaze was level with the bottom half of his face. 

His lips looked really soft. 

“Was he a good kisser?”

“Why d’you wanna know?”

He shrugged. 

“Thinking about asking him out?” You smirked. “Don’t think you're his type, Stevie.”

“Shut up.” 

There was a knock on the door, a sudden sharp sound that had you both jumping apart and you weren’t even sure when you had wandered that close. 

“Five minutes left, lovebirds!” Jake, voice muffled by the door and the music, called out, sounding way too pleased. 

Steve stared at the door, bottom lip tucked between his teeth and you knew he was thinking about something. He only hesitated a little before he knocked a foot into yours, catching your gaze and he spoke as if he wanted to get the words out fast, before he could stop himself. 

“Was he, though?” Steve asked again, voice quieter this time, almost unsure. He looked nervous, “Miles?”

You stared at him, maybe for a beat too long ‘cause the tips of his ears were turning red and he coughed, a little awkward. You made the same strangled noise, shoulders shrugging.

“I mean, sure,” you whispered, “I guess? He was… it was fine.”

You weren’t overly sure if the darkness was playing tricks on you or not, but you could’ve sworn you saw the boy smile.

“He tried to stick his tongue in my mouth,” you continued, face warm from embarrassment, ‘cause you suddenly felt like you were sharing too much, even with Steve. “It felt weird, like a dead fish. I didn’t really know what to do.”

“You’ve never made out with someone?” Steve asked and god, you were almost positive he was the only person who could’ve asked you that question without sounding like he was making fun of you. His voice was soft, all fond affection for you that he’d collected over the years and he moved closer, toes touching yours like he knew exactly how to handle you. “Kissed someone like that before?”

“That was the first time,” you squirmed under his gaze, feeling much younger than you were. Were you supposed to have that much experience in making out with someone at fifteen? Did Steve? “I don’t really know if I did it right.”

“Oh,” he breathed and he didn’t sound like he was judging you at all. There was another slow silence, warm and not at all uncomfortable because it was still Steve, and it wrapped around you both like a question. “I could show you. If you wanted.”

The music bled underneath the gap in the door, vibrated against your skin and the drums made your heart drop and stop, thundering to the beat quickly after. You were sure it was the music. You were positive it was the music.

But then Steve mistook your silence for hesitation, a silent ‘no’ and he was already opening his mouth to cover his tracks, to take back the statement, to tell you he was stupid, that he was only kidding.

“I didn’t mean-, we don’t have to… shit, I-”

Four minutes left. 

“Okay.”

You could hear the rush of your blood in your ears, skin warm, cheeks hot, tongue sneaking out to peek between your lips and you wondered if he’d still be able to taste the lipgloss you put on before you left the house. 

“What?”

“Show me.”

He took a step towards you and you watched as the boy tried to keep cool but his ever expressive face gave him away, brown eyes all wide, jaw a little slack and his hand found your waist, a sliver of skin between your shirt and skirt, a place he’d not really touched before.

“Is this alright?” His voice cracked, and he blushed but you didn’t laugh. You never laughed, but you did nod. “Just do what I do, ‘kay? Can I kiss you?”

Was it really that simple, you wondered? But you didn’t get a lot of time to think it over, because as soon as you nodded, Steve was crowding into you more, pressing you into the coats and you still had to press up on your toes to let his mouth meet yours.

It was so different from last time and it was almost the same.

Steve Harrington still tasted like sugar and vanilla, hidden under cheap beer and you gasped when his lips touched yours, the same way you did when you were thirteen. But your hands grasped at his neck, steadying yourself, and he clutched at your waist to help, as if you had both gotten a little older and suddenly knew where to touch.

His mouth was soft over yours, a little hesitant at first, but then coaxing. Your lips slid over his once, twice, three times and then you felt the soft lick of his tongue at the seam of your lips and you remembered the way he’d told you to copy him.

So you did.

Your tongue touched his and your breath hitched with how nice it felt and the kiss moved soft and slow. You grabbed Steve a little harder, body swaying into his in the dark ‘cause your stomach was swooping and your heart was hammering and it felt like you were on the front seat of a rollercoaster, hanging off the edge. 

Maybe Steve felt the same way, despite having more experience, because he gripped you the same way, fingernails leaving little half moon marks on your hips. 

It felt strange, it felt good, it felt warm and it made everything tingle, breath stuck in your throat and a sigh leaving your chest and you felt like you should’ve been embarrassed. But you weren’t, because it was Steve. 

But then voices outside were counting down from ten and they got louder and louder, hands hammering on the door and you both ripped apart before the door swung open, harsh strip lights and the smell of artificial strawberry and natty light swimming back into the closet with you. 

The walk home wasn’t as awkward as it should’ve been considering you and your best friend had had your tongues in each other's mouths. Maybe it’s ‘cause you were still too young, maybe it was because you didn’t realise it yet, but there wasn’t much about yours and Steve’s friendship that would ever be awkward. 

So you followed the yellow lines on the edge of the road home, footsteps a little behind Steve’s and every now and then, the boy would look back over his shoulder to make sure you were still there. It smelled like nighttime and summer and everything you associated with the boy, damp grass and leftover smoke from someone's barbecue, chlorine from the pools and you could hear sprinklers in backyards, hissing in the still warm air. 

You were a little late, just over curfew and the television was making your living room glow, the flicker of light coming out from the window. So Steve took your hand and led you through the back garden gate, pool lights leading you both to your patio doors, the rest of the house dark and you could smell lavender and honeysuckle from Steve’s yard.

He helped you find the key to the door, the spare hidden in a plant pot filled with pebbles and moss, one lone rose sprouting from the dirt. Both of your hands fumbled together as your fingers touched, all sudden pink cheeks and lowered gazes and Steve whispered a ‘good night, princess,’ before sneaking back down the lane, hopping over the lower part of the fence and into his own yard.

By the time you had tiptoed upstairs, past your dad who was dozing in the living room arm chair, Steve was in his room, bedroom window across from yours and the lights were still on as he lounged on his bed, shirt off and a baseball clutched in his fist. 

He was throwing it from his hand, watching it fall up and down in the air before catching it again, one arm thrown underneath his head and you couldn’t help but gaze at the muscles there, all new and never really seen before. 

You swallowed, suddenly too warm, the heat from the day trapped in your bedroom and sticking to your skin but you didn’t want to open the window, you didn’t want to alert the boy to your staring. You and Steve had spent nights, weeks, months and years hanging out from the sills, talking over the trailing ivy and flowers and growing below. 

But this felt like something you shouldn't have been doing, especially since you could still taste him on your lips, feel where his hands had burned against your sides, so you pulled your curtains and trapped all these brand new thoughts inside your room with you.

You took them to bed, slipped between the sheets with them and everything smelled like brown sugar and honey, gummy bears and Steve Harrington. 

1984. Killing me slow, out the window, I’ll always be waiting for you to be waiting below.

“Princess, c’mon, every time.”

Steve’s voice was exasperated, laced with something softer and it made swinging your leg over your bedroom window sill a little easier.

You peered down at him, long grass brushing his shins ‘cause no one but you two used that little path that took you out of the back garden gate. He was gazing back up, setting sun brushing his face with gold and caramel, peachy pink clouds in the sky and Steve held his arms out, beckoning.

“You’ll catch me?” You murmured, still unsure, despite this being a well practised escape. 

“Don’t I always?” the boy scoffed, almost offended, but the small edge below your window didn’t offer a lot of footing and you swore the drainpipe was becoming more loose than it used to be. 

“Harrington, I swear,” the threat was empty and it fell idle on your lips when you pushed yourself over the edge, hands gripping at the window frame and feet finding their footing. 

“Don’t second name me,” Steve grumbled and you sensed him moving closer, buttercups and daisy crushed under his sneakers as he kept his arms outstretched towards you. “You good?”

You mumbled some noise of confirmation, knees bent and ready to drop. You hated this part, and weirdly, it got harder as you got older, limbs stretched, body heavier, no longer small and quick to scramble up tree branches and out of windows.

“Steve?” You couldn’t really see behind you, the soft summer breeze picking at your hair and blocking your view of the ground below but you lowered yourself as much as you could, fingers too warm and slipping against the window frame.

“Yeah, I’ve got you.”

So you let go, the short drop softened by the boy’s hand catching at your waist and pulling you against him, your back to his front and he held you there, ankles swishing in the damp grass. 

Steve was all hard muscle and cologne, arms stronger than they had ever been, tanned from the summer and wrapped tight around you, hands pressed into the skin underneath your breasts. He let you go when you found your feet, white chucks soaked by the evening dew and you blew out a breath and set the boy with a stare. 

“We have front doors, you know,” you watched him grin at you, wide and bright and so familiar. “Why do we have to do this?”

“S’more fun,” the boy answered and he landed a firm smack to your ass when you bent over, fingers tugging at your laces. “Nice shorts princess.”

“Fuck you,” you squeaked, cheeks warm and you reached out to do the same, plan connecting with the denim of his jeans and Steve laughed before groaning a little dirty and exaggerated. “You’re such a dick.”

He spun you both, feet leading you backwards towards the garden gate, clumsy between the flowers and he grinned, wolfishly. 

“You know I love it when you talk dirty.”

“Steve,” you tried to sound huffy, as if you weren’t impressed by his jokes but you sounded flustered instead and you hated how the boy knew it.

But he never said anything, never commented on the flush across your chest or the way your tongue snuck out to wet at your lips, he never poked fun. He just always watched with knowing eyes and a soft smile you could never discern, and kept on teasing you. 

“Y’know it’s better if my dad doesn’t see me leave,” he finally answered, fingers bullying the lock, almost rusted shut from years of only being used by both of you. “I get asked too many questions and I give answers he doesn’t like and suddenly I’m back in my room filling out fuckin’ college applications for the eighteenth day in a row.“

A pang of sympathy hit your chest and before you could tell your friend that you understood, you sympathised, he was placing a warm hand on the space between your shorts and your shirt, guiding you out the gate. 

“Doesn’t mean I have to do the same,” you grumbled good naturedly, “I could meet you out front like a normal person.”

“Fuck off, we both know you love jumping into my arms as much as I love catching you.”

You couldn’t remember when you started flirting with your best friend, or when he started flirting with you. You couldn’t pick a place or time when it began, or who did it first. But you were both eighteen and more appreciative of all the strong lines and muscles, the soft curves and different ways you looked at each other. 

It would be a comment, a sly remark, a hand touching too close to areas yet to be discovered, a wink, a hug that went on for a beat too long. 

Nothing had happened, not really, not since the closet at Karen Vincent’s party, but everyone at school called you Steve Harrington’s girl and the boys you hooked up with in the backs of cars always pulled away mid kiss to ask if you were definitely single. 

It was all fun and teasing, familiar touches with a familiar boy, sprawled together in the same bed you’d shared with him since you were twelve years old. Except now there wasn’t as much space between you both, limbs longer, bodies taller, leftover alcohol soaking into your heads in the mornings that you woke up wrapped around each other. 

You would pretend you didn’t feel how hard he was, morning wood pressed into the small of your back, the curve of your ass and Steve wouldn’t comment when your shirt had rucked itself up your ribs in the middle of the night, too much showing to be decent. 

It was enough to keep you both on your toes, the close friendship teetering over the question of what if? Could we? Should we? Will we?

Steve didn’t hide the way he looked at you, affection always strong in his brown eyes, hands soft and face fond when he picked a wildflower off the garden wall, tucking it behind your ear but there was always a linger over your bare legs, the way the hem of your shorts cut high on your thighs, the way they pinched in at your waist and made your shirt ride up your ribs. 

The roller rink was busy as expected, ten o’clock on a Saturday night and filled with teenagers looking for something and someone to do. The kids of the day had long left and the lights were dimmer, the whole hall darker with flashes of red and aquamarine, bubble gum pink and candied lilac that flashed across the floor and faces. 

The disco ball twisted in the middle and it sent rainbows and reflections across the walls, painted Steve’s face in technicolour and you gave his cheek a little pat as you took off, wheels spinning you backwards, music thumping in your chest. 

He smiled at you, knowing, brows raised as he took a seat on the tables that lined the roller rink, crowded by the friends you’d found from school, flasks pulled from pockets, clear liquid dumped into red and blue slurpees.  

“Where you goin’ princess?”

You did a little spin, already warm from the sticky air, summer leaking in and slipping between the people skating and dancing, bodies too close. Your foot found the rink, hands leaning on the barrier wall as you sent Steve a wink, your cherry glossed lips widening in a smile that was borderline salacious. 

“To find someone to play with.”

The boys surrounding Steve whooped and hollered, cat calls ringing out underneath the music and you could hear the comments directed to Steve, playful intones about how his girl was nothin’ but trouble, and wasn’t he gonna get a pretty thing like you locked down?

But Steve just shook his head at you, playful and exasperated, while he leant back on the bench, waving away his friends remarks with quiet whatever’s and it’s not like that. 

He had nothing to say when you dropped yourself into his lap half an hour later, body warm from skating, face flushed and eyes a little too wide and bright. 

He ignored the whistles from his friends, the knowing glances, the nudges to ribs. ‘Cause you were wrapping your hands around his neck, fingers playing with his hair and your lips were at his ear. 

“There’s some creep followin’ me around,” you whispered, body tense and Steve’s hands, where they’d dropped to on instinct when you sat on him, tightened on the space above your knee. 

“Who?” Steve asked immediately, voice low and it rumbled through you, you could feel it in his chest and his eyes were scanning the crowds, brows pinched together. 

You didn’t look, didn’t turn away from where you’d pressed your nose to his temple, breathing in his cologne, his shampoo, something minty and like the forest. You caught Candance Peterson’s eye from over Steve’s head and you ignored the way she smirked at you. 

“By the lockers,” you murmured and your breath hitched just a little when Steve wrapped one arm around you, holding you closer to the other hand sliding it’s way between your bare legs, fingers curled around your thigh possessively. “Red shirt, bad hair.”

Steve snickered ‘cause he found him, a guy with an overgrown mullet and beady eyes, hanging by the lockers and benches. He was staring at you, watching the way you draped yourself over your best friend and Steve raised a hand, wiggling his fingers to show that he’d seen him. 

“He didn’t try anythin’, did he?”

You shook your head, tip of your nose brushing against Steve’s cheek ‘cause you refused to move any further away and you knew the boy didn’t mind. His hand was back on your leg, thumb stoking circles on the inside of your thigh and it took everything you had not to squirm in his lap. 

“Nah, just asked too many questions, told me he was wondering why a ‘pretty little girl’ like me wasn’t with her boyfriend,” you scrunched your face as you spoke, lips twisted. “Told him that my boyfriend was right over here.”

It wasn’t the first time you or Steve had used each other to slip away from some unwanted attention. Steve was just tall enough, just broad enough to warrant a second glance, too drunk boys weighing up their options when you snuck under your best friend's arm, wondering if they could take him. 

They usually gave up, watching with a sneer as your pressed your body into Steve’s, his hands taking advantage of your little role play game and he’d let his palm take a slow wander over the curve of your ass, a tight squeeze, a light tap and you’d dig your fingers into the spaces between his ribs for it, his laugh huffing guilty onto your neck. 

You found that you could be just as intimidating, Steve seeking you out at parties when girls from out of town got a little too much, a little too eager and kept trying to touch the hair that he spent too much fucking time styling. The boy would sneak up behind you, arms around your waist as he pulled you back against him and used you as the cutest human shield he’d ever seen. 

The sight of you in Steve’s arms usually stopped his admirers in their tracks, his lips pressed to the top of your head, smile hidden in your hair as you set them with a look that Steve said could make grown men cry. . 

“Oh you did, did you?” Steve drawled, “did you tell him I was the prettiest one out of the bunch?”

You snorted, a sound that always made Steve grin and you loved the way his arms tightened around you. Your position on his knees gave you an inch or two of height on him, a little taller, just for a change. You pulled back enough so you could gaze down at him, lashes lowered and face overly thoughtful. 

“I don’t know, Stevie,” you pondered, all faux heavy sighs, teasing and fluttering lashes. “Danny’s starting to look real cute since joining the team-”

“You shut your damn mouth,” Steve interrupted, voice huffy but he was still smiling despite himself. He took a second to watch the way a refraction of light from the disco ball travelled over your cheek, lighting up the new summer freckles there before it dipped into your Cupid’s bow. He cleared his throat, suddenly shy. “We both know you think I’m the hottest guy he- oh, shit. Your friend is coming over.”

“What?” You barked out and your voice sounded strangled. You turned to see that Steve was right, the guy in the red shirt was making his way through the gathering crowds, weaving through the busy tables towards you both, his gaze set on you and another question posed on his lips. “Oh, Jesus Christ.”

Steve was already shifting underneath you, arms hooking under the backs of your knees and you knew he was ready to deposit you on the chair next to him, eyes searching for a fight. 

“Can I kiss you?” You asked instead. 

“Shit, what?” The boy’s response was garbled, words tumbling over each other as he stopped his movements and looked at you wide eyed. “Princess-”

You sighed, impatient, a hand clutching at Steve’s chin, tilting his face up to you so you could catch his gaze, the question asked again with just your eyes. A silent exchange, a secret language only you two knew. You watched his tongue swipe over his bottom lip, eyes heavy, dropping to your mouth and you waited, a second, maybe two and then fuck, he nodded, barely perceptible. 

You crushed your lips to his, swallowed the moan that Steve immediately gifted you, fingers pushing into his jaw and sighing at the way his  hand on your back dropped to the waistband of your shorts, fingertips desperately seeking the warmth of your bare skin. 

It was different to the kisses you had shared before, ‘cause fuck, now you both knew what you were doing and you had almost as much experience under your belt as Steve had. You knew boys liked it when you got a little bossy, hands on their jaw and thumb on their bottom lip, telling them to part their lips for you. You knew they liked it when you sighed all sweet and pretty, hips squirming in their hands, fingers pulling at their hair. They told you that you tasted like cherries, something sweet and tart and like dirty secrets. 

Steve seemed to like it too, ‘cause his tongue was sweeping past your lips, kissing you dirtier than he should’ve for such a public setting and you could hear your friends rippling in excitement around you. 

You pushed your thumb to the corner of Steve’s mouth and he obeyed like you thought he would, parting his lips between yours and groaning into you. It was all teeth and tongue, hot hands on bare skin, hair between fingers, threading and pulling and you wondered how you could still taste vanilla, hidden in his lips underneath blue raspberry slush. 

You liked the way he held you to him, a little too tight, a little more possessive than he’d ever been with you before. Because growing up with Steve Harrington was all protective hands, glares sent to boys who deemed not good enough, rides home from work and gentle hands taking that one drink too many from you at parties that went on too late. 

This was different, this was personal, this was a touch that screamed mine mine mine and it kinda hated the way you knew you’d think about it later, back flat in your bed, sheets kicked to your ankles and your hand pushed down the front of your shorts. 

Maybe Steve would do the same you thought, maybe he already had, you wondered. And images of Steve with his hand flat to the shower tiles flashed through your head, body wet, hair soaked, lips parted and his other palm fisting himself to the thought of you. 

It was suddenly too much and you needed air more than you needed Steve. Your lips left his and the sounds of the rink came rushing back, like you’d pushed your head out from underwater. There was suddenly music, the score of wheels on wood, the siren of a pinball machine, ice clattering into cups from behind the bar. 

Someone amongst the group let out one, long whistle and people tittered and god, it should’ve made you blush. 

It should’ve. 

It didn’t. 

You simply stood from Steve’s lap, his hands still on your waist and guiding you to your feet until you could push your hair back from your warm cheeks, feeling only slightly scandalised when your friends all started but you kept your eyes on the boy. 

You licked the taste of him from your lips, raspberry and sugar and something that you were now beginning to learn was just Steve. His cheeks were tinted pink, lips glossy from yours and his brown eyes were considerably darker, his finger trailing away from yours in a way that made you think he didn’t wanna let go. 

But you cleared your throat the same time he did, only a little wobbly on the eight wheels that held you up and he grinned when you coughed out a laugh. 

“That worked,” you told him, watching as the guy with the bad hair swung the door open, leaving without looking back. 

“Huh,” Steve murmured, “how ‘bout that.”

—————

He didn’t say anything when the lights started turning back on, when the disco ball stopped spinning and people handed back their skates. Steve just found you on the benches, pressed shoulder to shoulder with your friends and he caught your eye from the door, another secret conversation that started with a quirk of a brow and ended with a tilt of a chin. 

You said your goodbyes and followed the boy out the building, watching as Steve placed his hand behind his back, encouraging you to catch up and grab it. You held hands across the empty parking lot, fingers twisting and playing together until you hit the main road and it was normal, it was familiar, it was Steve. 

He decided he was staying with you that night, mumbling an excuse about not facing his dad in the morning, how your bed was comfier and your mom made the best waffles but you didn’t need any convincing. 

So you snuck into your house, unnecessarily quiet ‘cause your dad was still up watching TV and your mom was in the kitchen with a glass of wine and a book and they barely looked at the boy who was following you up to your bedroom, nothing more than a “night, kids,” called out into the hallway. 

You lay side by side with the boy, half dressed and with too much bare skin on show, Steve’s shirt on the floor, your shorts almost indecent around your thighs. 

It was the first time you thought that something else might happen, legs brushing against legs and hips bumping together as you tried to get comfortable, the burn of the others lips still on your own. 

But nothing did and you were starting to wonder if anything ever would. 

1985. And it’s new, the shape of your body.

It didn’t matter that it had been a Wednesday, it was the first day in weeks that you and Steve had managed to get the day off together and you were both planning on making the most of it. 

It’s why the boy woke you up early, a rucksack already in his hand as he walked through your patio door, left open for that very reason, the rest of the house empty as your parents went to work. 

You’d been surprised at how softly he’d woken you up, fingers prodding gently at the cheek that wasn’t smushed against your pillow, eyes hidden with sleep mussed hair and one leg bare and kicked out from beneath the sheets. He grinned when you grumbled and he took your sleep warmed spot when you finally dragged yourself out of bed and into a shower. 

Steve barely looked away when you reappeared in just a towel, almost too short to be decent and when you turned to your dresser to pull out a swimsuit and clothes, his eyes dipped to the backs of your legs, thighs on show, tanned from the August sun, a small freckle there he’d never seen before. 

“You said you were gonna set an alarm, princess,” Steve teased, head pushed back into your favourite pillow and if he realised it smelled like your shampoo and peach scented body wash, he didn’t say. “Clock’s ticking.”

“Jesus, give me peace, Harrington,” you grumbled, voice still thick with sleep and the summer air was slipping through your open window and it made you move slower than you wanted to. “Turn around.”

Steve did as he was told, face crushed into your sheets and a grin on his lips ‘cause he heard the soft thump of your towel hitting the floor, the shuffle of clothes sliding across your skin. He knew you were winding him up, taking that little game you both blamed to a new level, another limit, because there was no fucking way a girl that looked the way you did, didn’t know what she was doing.

Steve heard the snap of a bikini strap, the rasp of denim shorts over long legs and when you told him he could look once more, he turned around in time to see a flash of cherry red, a swimsuit that hid little, covered by the way you pulled a white shirt over your head. 

You pushed a pair of Ray Bans onto your nose, a little too big and stolen from Steve a few summers before. You grinned, knowing, and held out a hand. 

“C’mon pretty boy, let’s go.”

Steve took the car, drove it to the outskirts of town with the windows cracked, the summer air blowing in sticky and sweet. You had your feet on the dash, a new bracelet around your ankle, woven with blue and orange thread, a matching one around Steve’s wrist that he tried to protest at but his words were weak and his smile was bright. 

He let you pick the song, cassettes spilling out of the glove compartment as you tried to find the perfect mix for a day like this. There wasn’t a cloud above Hawkins and when you drove past the Burick’s farm, the sunflowers were in full bloom, making the world that flashed past your window bright yellow and the strawberry paddocks made everything smell sweet. 

The roads were quiet and the air still, and you couldn’t see another soul as Steve parked up on the roadside, a dirt corner off of the road leading out of town. You both walked into the wheat fields, long grass towering to your waists as you headed for the tree line. The crops brushed your bare legs, scratched softly against your skin and you could feel Steve behind you the whole time, eyes on you, anticipation growing, warming you like the sun. 

When he ran, you did too, feet a little clumsy and neither of you could see where you were stepping but the peels of laughter made it worth it, the rush of the summer air on your face made it better.  You chased after the boy, bag slamming on his back, eyes glancing back at you, looking like the twelve year old with the wild hair you once knew.

Steve didn’t stop running until he hit the patch of trees, legs slowing as the branches became thicker and you slammed into his back with a soft ‘oof,’ cheeks sore from grinning and neither of you thought much of it when the boy took your hand and led you through the thickets.

The trees cleared just before the cliff dropped off, the quarry vast and a pretty green-blue underneath you. The spot was secluded, familiar to you both and a well guarded secret that was kept over the years. You came every summer, secret visits that were just for you and Steve.

You’d been waiting for a day like this for what felt like months. The height of summer, blue skies, the distant buzz of cicadas and your best friend, all to yourself. 

Something told you that Steve felt the same, ‘cause when you chanced a sideways look at him, he was already gazing back, soft smile on his face.c eyes all fond and it made the day seem even warmer. 

It didn’t take long for you both to be stripped to your swimsuits, Steve’s eyes blatantly staring as you slipped the denim shorts down your hips and pulled them down your legs. He didn’t say anything when you stretched yourself out on the blanket beside him, pebbles and grass underneath, the sun beating down from above. 

You liked the way he didn’t shy from you, not like the other boys, like he knew he was yours and you were his, like there wasn’t anyone else to worry about. So neither of you flinched when you pressed yourself to his side, warm bare skin on more warm bare skin, shoulder to shoulder and your feet just reaching where his shins were. 

You tapped a toe to them, snuck a peek at the boy beside you, grinning when you saw him smile despite his closed eyes. His lashes fluttered from behind his sunglasses, waiting for the inevitable. 

“Hey, Stevie?” 

Something in his tummy clenched at the old nickname, usually said with mirth and drag of sarcasm, but your lips were at the shell of his ear and you sounded so soft. 

“Princess.” His voice didn’t hitch at the end like a question, it stayed low, a little hoarse, like a warning. 

‘Cause you were propped onto a elbow now, body leaning into him, your hardly concealed chest pressed into his bicep and he could feel the tickle of your hair on his arm, against his cheek and you were still so close that he could feel the way you smirked against his ear. 

You pushed the button on your nose to his temple, a head butt that was more affectionate than anything else and you moved suddenly, leaning over him to grab the rucksack.  

When Steve opened his eyes he saw red, that almost orange colour that reminded him of summers and pool days, the freckle below your collarbone that not many people got to see. 

He couldn’t not look at your chest, pushed out towards his face as you stretched an arm, grasping for the strap of the bag, making a little grunting noise as you reached for it. 

Red and tiny straps, sun warmed skin that was a little darker than last month, the summer making you glow. A stretch of stomach, taught as you leaned, close enough to his own that he could feel the warmth radiate from you. Long legs pushed up onto your knees, holding you over him like a treat, like a taunt. 

But then you were pushing yourself backwards to sit, gleeful with the bag in your hands and you were already unzipping it , hand delving into its contents as you muttered to him. 

“Perv.”

It was soft and fond, no heat, no accusation but it still made the boy flush ‘cause that meant you caught him looking but Christ, you were both nineteen and full of hormones - what else was new?

“Don’t flatter yourself too much, princess,” he coughed out, trying to sound cooler than he felt. His eyes stayed hooded behind his glasses, wishing the tint of them made him harder for you to read but you knew him better than yourself. Steve knew that too. “You’ll go up a cup size one day.” 

His words hurt no more than your comment had, all light, no sharpness but you smacked at his shoulder all the same, making him grin wide at you. Steve wondered if you knew he thought of you as nothing short of perfect, he wondered if he’d ever get a chance to tell you.

But you’d found what you’d been looking for, a little plastic bag filled with a few buds and some papers, a new grinder ‘cause Steve had lost the last one at a party. You wiggled it at him, Eddie’s special weed making the air grow a little more heady, a little more sweet. 

“Wanna get high with me, Harrington?“

And god, wasn’t that a question?

Steve knew you, knew you inside out and back to front, better than anyone else did. He knew how you got after a few hits, a little needy, all touchy and full of affection. The boy had been to enough parties with you to know. You’d find him, a few hours in, coming out of seemingly nowhere, face flushed and eyes glassy. 

It didn’t matter who he was talking to, who he was with, what he was doing, you’d me on him in seconds, a ball of heat that smelled like his favourite perfume and the inside of Eddie Munson’s trailer, arms around his neck and face pressed to his chest. 

You’d drop yourself into his lap, press messy kisses to his cheeks and giggle all soft when he tried to question you on your whereabouts, if you felt okay, if you’d drank enough water. 

By now, it wasn’t really a surprise to know the entire town still thought you were dating. But he stopped refuting it as much, almost preferring the way that boys kept their distance from you when he was around. He didn’t mind the way you curled into him, lips glossy and sticky and whispering into his ear. 

He liked the way you hummed happy and whispered a ‘yes’ when you’d had enough - and Steve could always tell - and he told you it was time to go home. It didn’t matter who’s house he took you to, his or yours, both were home. 

So god, wasn’t that a question?

“I’m driving princess,” Steve murmured instead of everything he wanted to say. 

‘Will you hold onto me, if I do? Will you crawl into my lap and look at me in that way that you do? Will you put your hands in my hair and tell me I smell good? Will you touch me like I’m yours? Will you touch me like you’re mine?’

But he didn’t. 

“Not until later, Steve, we’ve got all day,” you told him, all smiles and bright eyes.

And you were right ‘cause the morning was still early, the afternoon barely beginning and there were snacks in the bag, water for when it got too hot, a walkman and some mixtapes for when the day got too quiet. 

Steve just smiled and you shook the baggie at him still, a pour on your lips that he could never really learn how to say no to. 

“Roll for me anyway?” You asked because you hated it and you weren't very good, and maybe there was something about the way Steve’s nimble fingers made quick work of it, maybe it was the way you liked to watch the tip of his tongue slide slick along the edges of the papers. 

Maybe. 

So Steve because he couldn’t say fucking no to you and that’s how you found yourself back on the blanket, legs stretched out under the heat of the sun, smoke in the air and everything a little more hazy than it was before. 

It could’ve been the weed that made you do it, maybe you could’ve even blamed it on the sun, messing with your head and your heart but Steve would never have believed your excuses, ‘cause when you suddenly sat up and swung a leg over his lap, he didn’t look surprised at all. 

His hands fell to your thighs instinctively, more than ready to press his palms onto your bare thighs, the high cut of that damn bikini showing more skin than was necessary and Steve swallowed hard from where he lay under you, Adam’s apple bobbing in his throat. 

“Princess.”

There it was again, that tone, the low way he said your name, rough like a warning, soft like he was asking for something. 

It almost sounded like please, you realised. 

You placed the joint between your lips instead of answering, the end of it burning amber and you inhaled softly, hating the way the smoke burned your lungs but loving the way it made you feel. But that could’ve been Steve’s hands on your hips, holding you steady as you tilted your head back, neck exposed, blowing smoke to the sky that was still cloudless. 

When you gazed back down at your best friend, his jaw was slack, eyes glassy behind his Ray Bans and you smiled, way too shyly for the stunt you’d just pulled. You took the glasses off his face, wanting to see him, all of him and you held the joint between you, brows raised. 

“Want a hit?” 

The boy nodded. 

He expected you to hold the roll up to his lips, let him take a drag from between your fingers as you sat happily on his lap. 

Steve didn’t expect you to take another draw from it, smoke held between your lips, eyes hooded as you leaned down and into him. Your hands found purchase on the blanket on either side of his head but you were still chest to chest. You didn’t talk, couldn’t talk, didn’t need to talk. You just nudged your nose on Steve’s and he tilted his chin towards you, hands tight on your sides like he was holding on for dear life - and oh my god, he felt like he was - before he parted his lips for you and you let go. 

Smoke blew gently from your lips to his, top lips just grazing, the movement accidental but neither of you apologised, neither complained. And when Steve held the hit there, in his chest, seconds ticked by like a countdown to something dangerous, to something explosive and on his wrecked sounding exhale, he pushed both of you up, a little frantic as your hips settled into the dip of his more. 

“Can I kiss you?” 

You asked it softly, like you were telling a secret, like you didn’t wanna admit it, like you were scared Steve was gonna say no, but the boy didn’t answer you at all, not with words anyway.

His mouth was on yours before you could finish talking and you both groaned at the contact. Blindly, you stubbed out the roach on the ground beside you, ashes rubbing into gravel and sand before your hands found purchase on Steve’s face. 

It was a kiss you hadn’t shared before, a kiss that was messier than the others, a kiss that lacked the control the others had. 

It was a kiss that usually led to something more, hands wandering in someone’s back seat, mouths on necks, voices whispering dirty things in the last row of the cinema. 

It was something you hadn’t felt with your best friend before. 

It was hot and dirty and fast, his hands on your neck, your jaw, fingers splayed into your hair and his thumb tugging greedy at the corner of your bottom lip, desperate for you to open for him, so he could lick into you. 

It didn’t help that you were both lacking so much clothing, too much bare skin pressed against each other, chest to chest and your legs wrapped around his waist. 

It was too easy to roll your hips, to whine into Steve’s mouth at the way he let out the dirtiest, prettiest noise for you. It made you want to do it again, it made you wanna thread your fingers into his hair and tug. 

“Steve.”

He thinks that’s what broke him, the way you said his name like that, soft and whimpered, like you fucking wanted him, like you needed him. The boy was sure he’d never been that hard in his life, your ass pressed into his lap, his hands wandering over the slope of your lower back, sliding over your bikini pants, fingers toying with the tiny sides of them. 

Steve thought about all the things he wished he was brave enough to say to you. ‘Are you mine? Do you know I’m yours? Do you know I always have been?’

But he couldn’t, couldn’t find the courage, couldn’t find the willpower 

 to drag his lips from yours, not unless it was to press his mouth to your neck instead, to suck and bite a little bruise there that said what he couldn’t with words. 

Mine. 

You don’t know how it ended, you barely remembered how it had started but as the night leaked in and made the quarry glitter, Steve was smoothing a hand over your hair, messy from his tugging, as you pulled your shorts back on. 

He’d packed up the bag, shrugged his T-shirt back over his chest, lips as kiss bitten as yours, skin warm from the sun and you. It felt like there was so much to be said, it felt like nothing at all. A natural occurrence, an almost yearly event, something cosmic, something magic, like a meteor strike, like a new planet being discovered. 

You got to kiss your best friend and Steve got to kiss his and it simply felt like you were both one step closer to where you were both going to end up. You were so sure it was with him, but maybe that was just the whispers of your moms, voices hardly quiet as they gushed by the Harrington’s pool summers ago, talking about how their kids were something special together, how sometimes soulmates did exist. 

So it didn’t feel awkward when Steve swiped a stand of hair from your cheek, took your hand in his and pressed one more kiss to the top of it before letting go, stepping back for another summer, until one of you - or both of you - were finally ready to say what needed to be said. 

It wasn’t going to happen that day, but it felt closer than ever. 

And when he drove you both home, Steve didn’t tut at you for putting your feet on the dash, in fact, he smiled all soft the whole drive back into Hawkins, past the same wheat fields, the water tower, the sunflowers and fruit fields that made the night smell sweet. 

It was dark when you both snuck in through the back garden gate, Steve’s patio light still on and there was smoke coming from the little fire pit by the pool, gentle chatter and laughter from where both of your parents sat with glasses of wine. Leftover dinner dishes and empty plates sat on the wooden table and neither couple were surprised to see you both. 

You didn’t know that your parents watched the way Steve stood tall behind you, always in reach, an open hand just hovering by your side as if he was always ready to catch you. You didn’t know that his mom would smile at you, watching the way you watched her son, cheeks sore with a grin she’d never tire of seeing. 

Even Steve’s dad would shake his head, fond, making everyone titter and the pair of you blush as he asked accusingly, “and what have you two been up to all day?”

You wondered if they could see the way you flushed in the dark, if they saw the swell to Steve’s bottom lip from the way you’d been greedy with it, if they noticed the pretty lilac bruise that should’ve hopefully been hidden by your shirt. 

But it was okay. ‘Cause you felt Steve warm and solid at your back, his chest pressed against you and the leftover taste of him and smoke on your lips. The air smelled like honeysuckle and chlorine, fresh lavender and basil from a dinner you’d missed and the back garden gate was still swinging on its hinges. 

1986. And I scream, “For whatever it’s worth, I love you, ain’t that the worst thing you’ve ever heard?”

Steve fucking hated Chris Maxwell. He’d disliked the guy in high school, always running his mouth and exaggerating his lacrosse wins, the girls he got with, the drugs he managed to score. He had the same car as Steve, the same BMW in a shitty puke green colour and he drove it like an idiot.

He hated him even more when you started dating him.

 You’d dated guys before, shit, Steve had had his fair share of girls over the years too. Nothing ever serious, nothing that meant all that much ‘cause the girls he brought to parties and basement hang outs took one look at you and tried to make him choose. 

Steve always chose you.

You’d dated less, Steve had always noticed, shying away from unfamiliar attention, choosing to kiss and run after the party was over, no numbers exchanged, no dates to be had. You’d always scrunched your nose at him and evaded the question when Steve asked, murmuring something about how it wasn’t worth the hassle.

It’s why Steve had been so surprised when you were dropped off one day by Maxwell, in his snot green car with his stupid smarmy smirk. Once became twice, twice became three times and before you both knew it, you were lounging at the bottom of Steve’s bed one day as he sat at his desk and you were shrugging.

“Uh, yeah, I guess? Maybe he is my boyfriend?”

Steve remembered coughing out a laugh, because, how could you not know?

But you were being picked up and dropped off by the boy on numerous occasions and Steve quickly grew tired of watching him try and eat your face in his front seat. But only two months had passed before things seemingly grew tired and sour, your face twisting in a veil of annoyance when you heard his car horn blast from the street.

He never got out of the car to knock on your door, Steve had noted, never walking you up the path at night to see you safely inside. Steve was sure the last straw came on the day he was already in your living room, hands clutching the casserole dish that his mom had sent him to borrow. You’d rolled up, the stupid vomit coloured car catching the curb as it squealed to a stop, music blasting from the inside and your dad mirrored Steve’s expression as the two men stood at the window.

Noses scrunched, lips downturned, eyes narrowed.

“I don’t like that little punk,” your dad had grumbled.

“Same,” Steve had answered and the two of them were oblivious to the way your mother grinned behind their backs. 

But Steve had watched you storm out, car door slamming as Chris leaned over to the open window, yelling something about coming back and let’s talk about this honey!

You’d ignored him and Steve had walked home feeling a little lighter than he had in weeks.

He still didn’t expect Chris to come sneaking into his back yard one evening, when the town was quietening down, when the fireflies came out and the sun made the sky streaky with pink and peach and lilac.

Steve had been propped against the wall of his house, just beside the back garden gate, hidden in that little lane that no one seemed to use. The space that smelled like honeysuckle and lavender, the place that grew a little wild and reminded him of you. There was more ivy on the wall that year, growing more untamed than it ever had and it made Steve smile to see that it was crawling up the side of your house too, almost to your bedroom window. 

A cigarette hung from his lips, a bad habit he hadn’t picked up since he was seventeen and easily persuaded but work was shit, his dad was nagging at him about reapplying for colleges and he hated that he’d hardly seen you in a week. 

And the reason why was creeping through the gate, shoulders hunched and eyes alert. Chris had stopped dead in his tracks at the sight of Steve, a scowl on his face as he snarled at him accusingly. 

“What the fuck are you doing here?”

Steve rolled his eyes, cigarette still wet between his lips and it moved as he replied, his words an annoyed mumble. 

“This is my fuckin’ garden, dickwad. You went through the wrong gate.”

It took the boy a moment to realise his mistake and instead of apologising, or admitting to it, he turned and continued to glare at Steve. 

“S’your goddamn fault I’m sneaking around anyway, Harrington,” Chris hissed, his eyes already seeking out your bedroom window across from them. 

It was ever so slightly cracked, curtains shut and blowing in the breeze but Steve knew you kept it open so you could smell the honeysuckle you loved so much, so that you could hear Steve if he opened his window across from you, to whisper into the night. 

It had been a long time since you shared secrets and stories across the garden gates, but old habits die hard and Steve kept his open for the very same reason. 

“My fault?” Steve snorted, an offended and somewhat dramatic hand pressed to his chest. He kicked off of the wall, cigarette throwing smoke into the air and he exhaled, smirking when some of it blew into Chris’ face. “And what the fuck did I do, Maxwell?”

“Everything’s always about you!” The other boy burst out, without much preamble, “whole fuckin’ relationship revolved around you, you’re all she talked about and then she tell has the nerve to tell me that she’s breaking up with me.”

Steve looked at Chris with raised brows, cigarette held lightly between a finger and his thumb, the top of it still burning in the dim light. 

“Is that so?” Steve took a drag, tried to keep his heartbeat steady, tried not to smile. “Had nothin’ to do with the way you spoke to her like shit and was always demanding stuff, no?”

The boy levelled Steve with a stare, nostrils flared and hands shoved in his pockets. “Of course she tells you fucking everything.”

“Of course she tells me fucking everything,” Steve repeated, emphasis on every word as he glowered at your ex, brows furrowed and fist clenched by his side. “And what’s it to you if she does-”

“What the fuck is going on?”

The two boys looked up, one grinning, the other desperate at the sight of you, hanging out your open window. 

Steve held up a hand in a way, features perfectly amicable as he beamed.

“What are you doing here, Chris? There’s a reason I’ve not taken your calls,” you sounded bored, tired and the boy had barely begun to answer before you’d already moved onto Steve. 

“Honey, please, I’m begging you can we just ta-”

“Steve, are you smoking? Again? Really?” You tutted, elbow on the window frame as you looked down at him with a soft pout. 

“My bad, princess,” but the boy was grinning, not looking very sorry at all ‘cause Chris was silently fuming beside him. “Stressful times, y’know?”

He took another long drag, blew the smoke out above the other boy's head and continued smiling that bright grin. Steve looked up at you again, head tilted as he gestured to your ex and squinted against the sun that was starting to set behind your roof. 

“Want me to take out the trash for you?”

His words earned him a shove, a bark of laughter leaving his lips as he barely stumbled against the other boy's hands. But before Steve could retaliate, you were calling down in a voice Steve knew you reserved for telling him off when he got too drunk, when he pushed your buttons a little too much. 

“Hey! Chris! Jesus, quit it!” You were leaning out of the window more, sleep shirt hanging off of one shoulder and a pucker between your brows. “Just go, okay? We’ve already spoken about this, I’m not interested.”

“See, this is what I was fuckin’ talking about,” Chris hissed, low enough so only Steve could hear and Steve didn’t know how to reply. 

Quiet wrapped around all three of you, the distant trickle of the pool, the muted buzz of Steve’s television from his living room and eventually, a strangled curse from your ex boyfriend's lips as he shouldered past Steve and swung the garden gate open, the wood hitting the brick. 

Steve tried not to grin as he looked back up at you, tongue pressed to the side of his cheek and his brown eyes glittering. The sunset made you both rosy, a sunbeam stretching across the side of your house, lighting up the bricks and you. 

“He seems touchy.”

“Shut up, Harrington,” you knew Steve heard the smile in your voice, the affection in the roll of your eyes. “You coming up?”

And then you disappeared, ducking back into your room and sliding the window closed with a click. 

Steve didn’t realise your parents were out until he walked over the empty driveway, the sun lowering itself into the line of trees across the street, the sky turning lavender, the moon making an appearance. He didn’t knock, just walked in through your front door, shoes toed off by the porch before he jogged up the stairs. 

Your door was already open and he found you lazing on your bed, sheets ruffled and the lights off, just the leftover sun trickling in through the open curtains and the crystals you hung at the windows sent rainbows scattering across your walls. 

Some of them fell across your bare thighs where you lay, stomach down, legs in the air in a pair of shorts that were hardly seen from underneath the huge shirt that you wore. Another streak of colour landed on your face, fluttering as the crystal spun on their chains, dancing in the last of the light. 

Steve wanted to kiss it, to see if the pretty shades on your cheek made you taste any sweeter than he already knew.

“You didn’t tell me you broke up,” Steve said and there was nothing accusatory in his voice, just genuine curiosity, soft and gentle. 

He fell onto the bed beside you, made the mattress dip as he shelled into your pile of pillows at the opposite end from where you lay. He pushed a socked foot into your side, digging in at the spaces between your ribs and making you squirm. Steve caught a smile, spread on your lips just for him and you twisted to bat him away, not surprised when his hands found yours and tugged. 

You let him pull you beside him, into the mess of sheets and too many cushions, lying so you were facing him, noses a breadth apart, eyes lowered as you spoke, suddenly nervous. 

You shrugged, fingers playing with the edges of a pillow, “just sort of happened, wasn’t a big deal.”

A beat of silence, the boy wondering if that was the truth, if there was something more behind your words, if you were hiding something in the way you refused to meet his gaze. Steve wondered if you could feel his heart pounding against the mattress, if it was echoing loud through your pillow the way he was sure it was his. 

It felt like something was building, like something was coming. Something big, something new, something wild. Like a tropical storm, a bolt of lightning across the town, a flash flood, a hurricane, something to announce that summer was over. 

That time was up. 

“You don’t seem too heartbroken ‘bout it,” Steve hedged, his gaze trained on your hands, the way your fingers picked and played with the cotton between you both. He wanted to take your hand in his, run a thumb across your palm and soothe you. 

“Cant get my heart broken by a guy that never had it.”

“He didn’t?”

“Don’t play dumb, Stevie,” you chided gently, teasing, “it doesn’t suit you.”

“Always thought he wasn’t good enough for you,” the boy responded, keeping what he really wanted to say hidden behind his tongue. 

“You said that about all the guys I got with.”

A gentle nudge, your hand on his chest, a shuffle closer, breathing the same air, the rainbow on your cheekbone flitting to Steve’s lips as the sun moved down. He watched you chase it with your eyes, gaze soft, looking a little longingly, or maybe he was just hopeful. 

“It’s true.”

A soft hum, a pleased noise, a smile that finally reached your eyes and a hand that fell to Steve’s arm, running down the length of it until your fingers found the cuff of his sweater and played with that instead. 

It was the closet Steve had been to holding your hand for a while and it felt like the beginning of summer again, back to bike rides to the arcade, sticky fingers tips and slurpees that were almost too big to hold. 

“Why’d you break up with him?”

You stopped, fingertips brushing over Steve’s wrist, a pause on his pulse point that told you that maybe he was as nervous as you felt. Your knees bumped his, rough denim on soft skin, the day leaking out of your room as the sun fell behind the treetops and suddenly everything was blue. 

Navy tinted shadows, inky skin, indigo lines of barely there light that turned Steve’s skin lilac and you breathed in, held it, let the burn in your chest for a second or two before letting it back out. 

Summer was leaking away, slipping behind the moon and the night, and you suddenly felt too tired to lie anymore, to pretend. 

“He wasn’t all that happy that I was in love with someone else.”

God, you felt brave. 

Bold. 

Blue. 

Steve didn’t look all that surprised, a flicker of soft realisation over his eyes, no shock, just a gentle breath of ‘it’s time?’

“I can’t say I blame the guy,” Steve murmured, chin ducking to meet yours, foreheads pressed together on the same pillow and his hand found yours, fingers twisted together. “Don’t think I’d be very pleased either.”

“I know,” you told him, gaze trained on the way his lips moved when he spoke. “I didn’t mean to, I don’t even know when it happened.”

“No?”

You shook your head, feeling heavier than you had, like you were pulled into the boy and something magic was keeping you there. You could smell lavender and cedar and smoke and Steve. 

“Might’ve been at this party, in someone’s basement. Might’ve been the time I was pushed into a closet and my best friend kissed me.”

“That sounds awful,” Steve mused and the beginnings of a grin were pulling at his lips, “a whole five years, huh?”

“Right? Isn’t that just the worst thing you’ve ever heard?”

He liked the way you said those words, like it was the opposite, your voice all sunshine and warmth and leftover summer. You were blue skies and honeysuckle, wildflowers and long drives, sleepovers on your bedroom carpet and sneaking out through the back gate. 

“Y’know, I think I’ve got you beat,” said the boy, all faux seriousness as he brought his hand to your waist, palm wide and warm as he pushed at your shirt, bunching it up over your ribs until he could touch bare skin.

“You do?” You felt a little breathless at his touch, a feeling you’d craved since last summer at the quarry, a feeling you’d missed despite knowing you’d get it again soon, eventually. Now. 

“Oh yeah,” Steve scoffed, voice teasing, gaze staring at you from between dark lashes. “I once knocked on this girl’s front door, asked her if she wanted to go to the arcade with me and I didn’t even mind when she hogged all the slurpee. I was a goner.”

“I did not!” You laughed, the sound pressed to Steve’s neck ‘cause he was pulling you into him, beaming bright and more carefree than you’d seen him in a while. “Liar.”

“Fell in love with the first girl I ever kissed,” he whispered, cheek pressed against yours as he whispered into your hair, like a secret he was sure you already knew. “How sad is that?”

You shook your head, hands clutched the material of Steve’s shirt, fists to his chest as if he was going to leave. 

“S’not sad at all,” you told him and god your voice was a hush, your lips against the shell of his ear and you felt the breath that he sucked in and held. “Long time to wait though, huh?”

Steve nodded, his tongue swiping across his bottom lip as he pulled back, seeking you out in the dark of your room, noses bumping. 

“Feels worth it, don’t you think?” 

And god, it did. 

It happened the way summer did. Slow and inevitable, like the gradual pick up of warmth through the year, the way you expected the sun in the morning, blue skies through your window, ice cream for lunch. 

It happened like it was supposed to, like it was meant to, like you’d waited all that time just to greet it with a warm shyness, a coy, “oh, I’ve been expecting you.”

It rolled in like a present, like a gift, like a reward. Like something that the world wanted you both to have, like the universe knew you were supposed to be together. So you shared first kisses between the wildflowers, let the seeds of something more bloom between your ribs, the spaces between your chests and your hearts. You let it simmer in the warm afternoons, burn a little stronger on cliff tops over quarry’s, picnic blankets rough under bare knees and hands in hair. 

“It does,” you breathed, closer to the boy than you had been, noses pressed into cheeks and for the last time, your best friend asked you your favourite question, one that tasted like fresh lemonade and smoke, cherry slurpees and fresh flowers in the air. 

“Hey princess?”

You hummed a response, eyes already closed, lashes brushing at the corners, a small smile playing on the curve of your lips. 

“Can I kiss you?”

You were on Steve before he could finish asking, hands on his jaw, tugging him into you, the hand that he had on your waist tightening its grip as your lips met. 

It felt different than last summer. Slower, deeper, lazier, like you both knew that this wasn’t the last kiss, like you both knew you didn’t have to wait until next year, or the year after. 

Like you both knew that this time was it. 

You moved in the dark of your room together, Steve pushing you back into the plush of your bed, moving over you to hold himself there, chest just brushing yours as one hand found purchase in your sheets, careful not to crush you. 

He caught the leg that you brought up to his side on instinct, desperate to feel more of him, wanting to press into him. Steve’s finger curled under the space behind your knee, hooked there so he could hold your thigh against his hip, so he could move into the space you created for him, body rolling into yours. 

He swallowed the gasp you gave him, kissed away the sigh and the blue of the room seemed a little brighter with his lips on yours. You whined against him until the boy caught on, moving back onto his knees only for you to follow, chest pressed against his and only breaking the kiss for him to lift his arms for you. His shirt hit the floor, yours following suit, all bare skin underneath with some new freckles to find, a trail of summer; water fights, sneaking out and greeting the morning together on the hood of Steve’s car. 

Steve ducked down to meet you, to let you kiss him a little deeper, a little dirtier, tongue licking at the seam of your lips, groaning when you opened for him, hand spanning the width of your back, hips pressed together with intent. 

“I’m fucking desperate for you, y’know that right?” Steve groaned, words sinking into your mouth with every push of his lips against yours and you swore you’d never heard anything prettier. “Always have been, totally gone on you, princess.”

“Steve,” you felt hot with the prick of emotion, tears brimming at your lashes ‘cause it was all too much and not enough, want and longing and need building up, years of looking, of touching and just tasting, searching kisses, useless excuses, never talking about it after. 

And then his hands were back on your legs, palms hooked around the backs of your knees and you were falling together, bouncing off of the mattress, pillows falling to the floor and god, you were crashing into each other. 

It was mixtapes on birthdays, fresh strawberries after swimming, a hand held in the dark after a scary movie, sitting in the yard after dark when the night was still warm and you don’t know how to tell your best friend that you thought they were perfect. 

Your shorts slid off too easily, hips raised from the bed and Steve’s fingers curled into the waistband. He kicked off his jeans with the help of your feet, toes pushed into the denim as he shucked them to the floor. 

Suddenly, there was more skin to touch, to taste, to look at, and Steve took note of every curve he hadn’t seen, every little mole and scar, tan lines in places he always tried not to stare at. 

But he kissed them instead, lips trailing hot over your chest, kisses pressed to the dip of your clavicle, the patch of sunburn on your shoulder and you felt like you had caught the entire months of summer in your chest. 

It all felt a little golden.

But night had crawled in and the shadows were darker, making every touch more intense, every kiss feeling like a confession. Your underwear joined his, piled at the foot of your bed with spilled sheets and pushed pillows and the world fell into silence for you both. 

No buzz or insects, no sprinklers in the yard, no screech of brakes from the street, no yelling from a tv. 

Everything was hushed as Steve spread his fingers over you, a choked gasp at the way he made you feel, a kiss to soothe. He kissed you through it, fingers feeling thick as he slid one and then two inside of you, curling up and searching, face pulled back from your own so he could watch you fall apart beneath him. 

“So fuckin’ pretty, so pretty,” Steve told you and you felt it, you believed him, forehead pressed to his as you gasped out his name, hands wrapped around his biceps as he coaxed you over the edge. “Can you come for me princess? Please?”

You did as he asked, as if you had any say in the matter, crashing and tumbling and falling into him, body tight, eyes clenched shut and lips falling apart in the prettiest moan Steve had ever heard. 

“Oh shit, babe, that’s it, ‘atta girl, princess.”

He pulled your hands from his length when you made an eager grasp for him, not cruel, just desperate. Steve shook his head, Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallowed thickly, jaw slack and eyes heavy. 

“Babe, if you touch me s’all gonna be over in a second,” he admitted hoarsely and his voice held no shame. 

So you covered him in kisses, flipped your positions from where you lay on the bed and pushed the boy into the pillows instead. You caught his lips on yours, messier now that you’d had a taste of what was to come, mouth leaving gloss over his jaw, down his throat and you felt the vibrations over your tongue when Steve moaned. 

You moved over him, slick and warm, hips pushing into his as you straddled him, making a mess of his boxers and short circuiting his brain as Steve gripped your thighs, touch almost cruel as he held on for dear life. 

You pressed your palms to his chest, dropped yourself down a little so your lips could graze his own, a new kind of kiss, teasing, a whisper that was barely there. 

It promised more to come, it kept him waiting and wanting, made Steve groan out at the realisation that he was entirely yours and god, maybe, just maybe, you were his too. 

“Fucking hell,” he whispered, and his voice was shot, “princess, please, s’not nice to tease a man like that.”

You grinned, filled with a confidence you only ever gained from being near Steve, bolstered by the way he looked at you - all heavy lidded and slack jade, chest and cheeks flushed underneath you. 

“You’ve never complained before,” you murmured back, mouth parted over his, Cupid’s bows touching but never really pressing your lips to his. 

It made you both think back to all the looks, the gazes, the stares filled with longing and wanting and yearning. That same question, asked with uncertainty, with a tumble of nerves, a burst of wonder, over the years until you knew what each other would taste like, until you knew how their lips felt between your own. 

“Vixen,” Steve mumbled and it should’ve been said like an insult, like a curse but his voice was molten honey, sweet caramel and the start of a summer morning. 

“Can I kiss you, Harrington?” The question wasn’t needed, and you were starting to think it never had been, but you loved the way his lips lifted into a soft smile under yours, noses brushing as he nodded, waiting patiently with his hands smoothing over the backs of your thighs. 

Steve made a pretty noise at the back of his throat, a gasp and a moan, a wrecked, “please,” falling onto your lips. 

You kissed him without any worries, without any thoughts of what does this mean for tomorrow? You kissed him like you were greeting summer, like he was the month of June and blue skies, like you could taste peaches and fresh lemonade on his lips, like he held all your secrets behind his teeth. 

He did.

Your harsh pants and soft moans mixed as you moved together, the boy shuffling underneath you as he rid himself of his underwear, boxers kicked to the end of your bed where they’d eventually be lost. 

He took himself in his hand, hard and long, his breath shaky as you slid down, gasping into his mouth as you got yourself seated, tightening around him for the first time. 

Steve whispered your name, soft, sinful, like a prayer, like a praise. 

“I’m not gonna last long,” he grunted, eyes squeezed shut as he clasped your face in his hands, fingers splayed across the line of your jaw, over the apples of your cheeks. “M’sorry, it’s just- you’re too much, princess-”

You cut him off with a kiss - a silent ‘it’s okay’ -  hips shifting, rolling over him as you moved, whimpering into his mouth. Steve swallowed your noises, gave you back his own and it wasn’t long before he was rolling you both over. 

His hands found the insides of your thighs first, spreading them so he could fit between, length still inside of you, pressing into all the right places. Palms smoothed up your sides, over the ripples of your ribs, calluses catching soft skin and the feel of it all made you sigh, head tilted back. 

Your hands found his, fingers intertwined as he pressed them back into the pillow below you, chest brushing up against your own as he moved, your legs curled around his waist and it was bliss, it was bright white behind your eyes, it was glitter in the dark, it was a electricity in your bones. 

“Steve,” your voice was a whimper, an almost cry, your hands grappling at his shoulders for purchase as he pushed you into the mattress with thrust after thrust. 

It all felt a little wild, gasping into open mouths, lips barely managing to find the other for a kiss, sliding messy over each other as hands pulled hair and fingers squeezed at arms, at thighs, at waists. 

“I know,” the boy said, sounding just as wrecked as you did, his face buried in the crook of your neck, his hands under the small of your back, fingers splayed wide so he could lift your hips into his own. “I know, fuck, you close? Please tell me you’re close.”

You answered with a moan, a pitched keen, your fingers tugging the lengths of hair at the nape of the boys neck and he groaned, a deep dirty sound in response and then you were falling apart, a vice around him, eyes clenched shut and teeth biting down on the muscle in his shoulder. 

Your name tumbled from his lips, a holy sound and Steve moved a little messier, his hips stuttering before he pulled out, both of you sighing at the loss, before he spilled onto your stomach with the help of your hand. 

The air smelled like summer and sex and Steve. 

Your pants filled the air, mixing with the boys and the trickle of the pool in the backyard. You lay together, breathless and skin slick, flyaway hairs sticking to your forehead, eyes a little glassy and lips rosy from greedy kisses. 

Steve pressed another to you then, and you were almost dizzy with it. He didn’t ask, neither did you. You didn’t have to. Not anymore. So he kissed you a little harder, tempting pretty sounds from your chest that he chased with his mouth, body still pressed against yours in a way you were sure you’d never grow tired of. 

No one spoke until you were both cleaned and half dressed, bodies lazy across your sheets, the night still too warm to wear anything more than your underwear, chests bare in the dark and pressed greedily to each other. A slow hand brushed across the small of your back as you lay on your stomach, head on the boy’s chest and your fingers carding through his hair. 

Every now and then you’d press a kiss to wherever you could reach: his palm when it smoothed over your cheek, his sternum where you lay, the sharp line of his jaw when you found the energy to tilt your head up. 

Steve responded in kind, his lips on your forehead, the top of your crown, the end of your nose. 

The silence was filled with the wonder of each touch, both of you bursting at the seams as you pressed your mouths to each other without worrying, without asking. 

But then Steve shifted against the pillows, moved until you were over him, chest to chest and your legs in the space between his. You propped your chin on his chest, eyes sleepy as you looked up at him and you hummed in delight when he smoothed hand over your hair, tucking it behind your ear. 

“You know I’m in love with you, don’t you?”

Heavy words were said so simply, so easily, and you did. You knew. But it still sucked the breath from you, it still made you ache to hear it out loud. 

“Yeah, I do,” you answered, because you did. You knew it from the way Steve looked at you, the way he liked to be near you, to sit a fraction too close. You knew it from the way he shared his slurpees, his car, his bed, his thoughts, his secrets. You felt it in his gaze, his touch, in the way he’d grown with you. “I’m in love with you too.”

“Yeah, princess, I know.”

And it was as easy as that. Simple like summer, inevitable, like the way the month of June rolls in after May. It was expected, like the warmth and the heat, like the sun in the morning and the clear starry skies at night. 

It was an eventuality, a slow burn, a want, a need, a necessity. 

It was Steve and it was summer and they belonged in their entirety to you.

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Ko-Fi ♡

Take the call

Pairings: Steve Harringtons x female reader

Word count: 670

Warnings:P in v, unprotected, mutual masterbaition,

Summary: While Steve is buried inside of you he gets an important call from his boss, he takes it but the show must go on.

Master list:

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It’s 7:15, the sun has just set, your back is to your boyfriend Steve’s mattress and he’s hovering over you, deep breaths and groan’s escaping his mouth as he pumps his cock deep into you, his hips moving at the perfect pace, your hips rocking with his, the bed frame slightly and quietly creaking to your rhythm. Everything’s perfect till the agonizing, blaring ring bursts it’s way through Steve’s landline. He doesn’t pause for even a second he just continues his pace, his lips finding your neck.

“don’t worry about it baby” he mumbles, placing kisses at the sweet spot of your neck,

“focus on me yeah?” he says, his fingers finding your clit to rub soft circles. After a few seconds the ringing stops… till only a few more seconds later the same ring blares through Steve’s room again. Once again he’s not phased, his mind is on you, he could care less about what’s beyond the other end of the phone. But you can’t help your thoughts, “what if it’s important?” you ask out to him, knowing he had missed important phone calls before because he was too busy pounding into you, and although your sweet Stevie assures you he rather be doing this than answering calls, you still feel at fault just a bit.

Eventually the ringing stops, of course only to pick back up again, blaring that familiar ring.

“You should answer it Stevie, could be for work” you give in, your soft eyes meeting his, a slight pout on your face. With a sigh he pulls out of you slowly, placing a kiss a top your forehead before quickly heading to his desk, picking up the phone and bringing it to his ear.

Steve mumbles nonsense across the other end, just by his tone you can tell it’s his boss calling about work. With a dramatic roll of his eyes Steve mouths “work”, exaggerating the words in annoyance, you can’t help but let out a giggle, eyes moving down his chest and waist where his hard cock sits, aching, begging to be back in you. It doesn’t help with the sight he has of you lying there spread across his mattress, legs open and waiting for him.

After a few minutes you can’t wait any longer and decide to take matters into your own hands, slowly inching your hand down till your fingers reach your clit to rub circles, causing you to moan which then causes you to place your palm over your mouth so his boss doesn’t hear. Steve’s eyes go wide once you reach your clit, eyes following your fingers before moving over to scan your whole body, he mumbles out careless answers and responses back to his boss not taking his eyes off of you for a second.

You sink two fingers in and pump them in and out, more moans escape your lips but you try your best to suppress them. He watches as you arch your back, his cock hurting, needing to be touched, instinctively he wraps his hand around his cock and moves it to glide over his tip, mouthed curse words fall out of him, his fingers grip the phone tighter and it presses even harder against his ear.

You’re feeling your climax build up, your pumping getting faster and faster, Steve’s grip on his cock tightens and he’s almost going the same pace as you.

His responses to the phone become almost incoherent, being said between groans as he tries to keep his composure.

“25th uhh… got it, yeah uh i’m writing it down” he speaks into the phone his head rolling back his hand still on his cock, he tries to keep his eyes on you the best he can but it’s just too much.

You’re so close, and you can tell Steve is too by the way his tummy is clenching and the pre cum leaking out of his tip. Finally the call comes to a end and Steve’s able to utter out a “Good Bye” to his boss , slamming the phone back down and at the same time you two reach your orgasm, letting it over take you completely, hot cum shooting out of Steve. Now able to make as much noise as you please you let out cries of Steve’s name, and in an instance Steve is crawling up the bed to hover over you, hands instantly finding your skin, his lips instantly finding yours as he plops his weight down on you, allowing your legs and arms to wrap around him, as he takes you in.

Master list: