#Harrington x Reader

[deylightsfictionalcompanion]

A while ago [see: when Stranger Things season 4 first came out] my friend and I were talking about “what would the gang think about Princess Bride? It came out around Halloween of ‘87, so they absolutely would have seen it.” And thus, the story was born.

I haven’t written a story in years [see: because college] until I just sat down one day and cranked out this 12k thing. I wrote this giant Steve Harrington x F! Reader fanfic like it sustained my whole life (it did, though, in a way).

I’m sharing it on tumblr first (it’ll go on AO3 after some minor grammatical edits) because why not.

More under cut

Fandom: Stranger Things

Genre: xReader (thought I hate Y/N so you’re Dustin’s older sister in this as “Ms. Henderson” mostly)

Word Count: 11.9k

Rating: I’m gonna go with Teen but think more CW Teen than normal Teen.

Synopsis: You’ve known Steve since high school. You’ve been apart of the craziness coming from Hawkins since the beginning. And worst of all: you’ve loved Steve ever since he first took your brother under his wing—but you’ve kept it a secret. Until now. All because of The Princess Bride.

Important info: I’m a lover of pop culture, and there’s so much of that in Stranger Things, I’ve tried to keep that feeling. This is why the bulk of the story revolves around The Princess Bride and Halloween. I’ve tried to keep it within a 1987 time frame too, just because.

Tags: #Steves A Dork #Everyone Lives #Eddie/Chrissy is there because I love them both your honor and they deserve nice things when Steve is too busy being in love with you, the reader #Listen I know there’s some small grammatical issues I’ll fix them later #Copious amounts of 80s product placement #Theres some heavy petting but like. Again, nothing worse than what you’d see on the CW #Also Eddie took Will under his wings and they DM together #Robin plays too cause they let her woo princesses #I tried my best and therefore anyone may constructively criticize me #Oh yeah Robin/Vicki are there too because I say so #this is my first time posting fanfic so like please be gentle at a time like this ;)

As You Wish

By Deylightsfictionalcompainion

Somehow the light always felt brighter after coming out of the movie theater. It wasn’t a surprise, given you went to see a matinee on a Thursday and the movie was less than two hours long, but still. That initial shock of stepping out from a darkened theater to the afternoon sun made it difficult for you to see for a while. You imagined it was the same for everyone in the group.

“Do you think when Peter Faulk said ‘As You Wish’ at the end, he was implying that maybe it was his book? Like, you can actually check it out from the library or something?” Robin asked, her rough-cut voice echoing in the parking lot. She held up a hand to her forehead to block the sun and looked back at the rest of the group.

“I very much doubt that, Robin.” Dustin let out a small chuckle. “I’ve skimmed every part of that library and I have never come across a copy of The Princess Bride by S. Morgenstern, let alone one written by Columbo.”

“Well, it still would be cool if it was an actual book to check out. But I guess I’ll just have to look into more movies directed by that guy that plays Michael Stivie from All In The Family. Personally, I think he’s a better director than actor, but that’s just me.” Robin shrugged her shoulders and grabbed the handle to the passenger door of Steve’s car, placing her weight on one foot as she waited for the rest of you to circle around the car and get in.

You caught up to her in no time and leaned in on the hood, watching as Dustin, Eddie, and Steve slowly made their way around.

You’d picked this Sunday to go because most of the group was off. Nancy and Jonathan insisted on watching it as part of their new attempt at foraging a date night together and Mike, El, Will, Max, and Lucas had already seen it last weekend—they actually convinced everyone else that they had to see it too.

“I’d love to make it into a D&D session,” Will had beamed up at Eddie during the last D&D session they’d had together. Eddie had, upon meeting Will, found it necessary to take the kid in under his wing since he was the only one of the boys that he deemed could carry on his title as DM of Hellfire. Will took an instant shining to him, and in return, started to really take his newfound apprenticeship seriously. “I think I could really work in the part about the Pit of Despair and Dread Pirate Roberts lore. You should see it so you can help me get it set up.”

“Very well,” Eddie responded to him, slouched in his chair that somehow survived Jason’s rampage through the club room. It looked a little out of place sitting in the basement of Steve’s perfectly primmed house—but Eddie had insisted if Hellfire (at least for the summer) was to continue, he’d need his chair. And since Steve was tired of being a taxi service from one end of Hawkins to the next, he’d given up and let the club just meet up in his [empty] house. “I will see The Princess Bride whenever the Henderson’s convince Harrington to take us. See for myself if I can accurately get a feel for how to home brew the storyline into Hellfire’s campaign trail.”

Dustin immediately started to bounce at the thought and turned to look at you. “You gotta convince him.” He said, his eyes shining in the way he knew you couldn’t resist. “I’m all out of favors to ask him this month, and I don’t wanna push my luck asking for another ride.”

You sighed, closing the book you were reading (well, half-reading. Sometimes the campaign they’d play was exciting enough to catch your interest, and you’d tune in to the boys—and Robin, who weirdly got into the game one night when she found out both Will and Eddie would let her seduce princesses—as they’d play). “I’ll ask him next shift. But you owe me chore duty for a week without mom knowing.”

Dustin bounced harder. “Absolutely. It’s a deal.”

Which is how you found yourself leaning over the counter, pleading with Steve the next day.

“Come on, Steve,” you’d said to him as you watched him restock the shelves of Family Video—something you honestly hadn’t expected to still be working at after the events of ’86, yet you, Robin, and Steve all got to come back. “It’s an action-adventure story. Mostly. Just a little bit of romance. And if you watch it now, you’ll be able to recommend it better once it comes to the store. Maybe woo a few hearts with it?

“It’s not the movie, Ms. Henderson,” Steve complained as he shook his head, his hair swaying. He finished putting back the last of his VHS tapes and looked up at you. “Why do I always have to be the one that drives?”

“Not that you don’t make a point,” your words fumbling out of your mouth, still trying to become used to him calling you ‘Ms. Henderson’ after you made a joke one day last week when Janet Jackson’s Nasty came on the radio. “But do you really want me to drive? I already convinced Robin to come along with Dustin and Eddie—so you know they’ll just end up dragging you along regardless—and it would be a shame to have me, the only other licensed driver of this particular bunch, drive. Especially because last time, you compared it to—”

“Max,” he sighed, placing a hand on his hip and closing his eyes. “Never again. You’re as bad as Max.”

“She’s gotten better, you know.”

“Don’t want to.”

“So you’ll drive?” You smiled at him—the one that seemed to always work, since more than once you caught him signing and closing his eyes when you’d break it out.

“Robin and I are off Thursday,” he sighed, closing his eyes.

You bounced—a Henderson trait, it seemed—and leaned farther over the counter to give him a quick hug. “Perfect. It’s a date then, Steve.” You turned around and walked over to the return bin, only half listening to Steve as he mumbled under his breath and walked towards the back of the store.

“So boys,” you said as they each got to the car, opening it and sliding in, your tone curious. “Thoughts?”

Steve started up the engine and turned down the radio. “Loved it.” He took one look in the review mirror at you and smiled before placing the car in reverse and exiting the parking spot.

“I can absolutely see how Will and I could work this into a session or two for Hellfire,” Eddie grinned, shifting in his seat so he faced you and Dustin. “Those ROUS’s would be fun to work with. And the kid was right about the Pit of Despair. God damn title for a campaign if I’ve ever heard of one. Plus I think even our little Robin would enjoy this campaign,” he turned his attention toward the passenger seat, reaching a hand to place on Robin’s shoulder. “Up for saving a princess, Buckley?”

Robin turned back to face Eddie and smirked. “Always down for saving a damsel in distress, Munson. Especially if she’s anything like that Buttercup. Ugh. Talk about Hot. I even enjoyed the romance aspect of the film, believe it or not. And that’s so totally not my thing.”

Eddie leaned back into the seat of the car. “The romance wasn’t so bad. I think I should take Chrissy when she comes home from State. She’d love it, and I’d get a chance to analyze it better.” He flashed a smile for a second before glancing quickly out of the window to hide it.

You smiled at his bashfulness, happy that Eddie and Chrissy had finally started dating after countless hours of flirting back and forth—including when he’d played Master of Puppets in dedication to her, and she, in turn, saved his life when he heroically tried to buy them time with the Demobats. He’d nearly been inconsolable when she’d finally left to attend Indiana State University in the fall, but he’d been so proud of her for getting in he’d put on a brave face until her visits back to Hawkins would come up. “I’m sure she’d appreciate the chance to see it with you,” you said, tapping Eddie’s leg and bringing him back to the present.

“Ah, yeah. Anyway,” Eddie coughed, clearing the air. “What about you? Thoughts?”

“It was sweet. Billy Crystal and Carol Kane were probably my favorite part, though. I’m also strangely craving peanuts now too.”

“Peanuts after Hellfire, please,” Dustin said, looking at you. “Will’s been waiting for us since I told him we were seeing the matinee.”

“God, Henderson, you’re going to make me drive out again to get your club snacks, aren’t you?” Steve glanced into his review mirror, his eyebrows slightly raised. “Why can’t you guys ever just eat what I’ve got at the house?”

“Because dingus,” Robin chimed in, “when you sit in on the game you try to justify every choice that we make, and I’m tired of having to explain how things work to you. It’s fantasy. You’re not supposed to sit there and question how spells work. We have to give you reasons not to bug us every five minutes.”

Steve opened his mouth for a moment before quickly closing it. He fiddled a bit with the driving wheel before quickly flicking his eyes up to the review mirror to look at you. “Fine. But since Ms. Henderson doesn’t play, she’s got to come on snack duty with me. Especially because she’s the one that wants the damn peanuts.”

You look back at him through the mirror. “I suppose that’s only fair. But it’s on your dime, Harrington.”

Steve clenched his eyes in defeat and turned the corner, mumbling under his breath again, his big, brown eyes glancing up at you every so often for the rest of the way back to his place.

…

“And that,” Will said, his voice echoing around the room, “is where we’ll have to leave off for tonight.”

The group around him made a collective of noises, disappointed that their session had ended, once again, on a cliff hanger.

“Lady Applejack could have had time to cast a spell, if you hadn’t stopped there, Byers,” Erica chided, closing her trapper keeper and shoving it under her arm. “She better get first turn next week, or you’re going to suffer for it.”

Will turned to look at Eddie, who was smiling with what looked like pride in his eyes. “You’re DMing next week, that’s on you, Eddie.”

Eddie simply nodded his head from his chair and looked at Erica. “Lady Applejack shall get the first roll next week, don’t you worry, Erica.”

Erica smiled. “Good. Come on, Lucas. Mom said we better not be late for dinner tonight, and I’m not going to be the one to have to deal with her and dad because you can’t say goodbye to your friends fast enough.”

Lucas turned to face the group. “See you all later,” he said, following Erica up the stairs. Mike followed them shortly after, muttering something about going to meet up with El early tomorrow, leaving you, Will, Eddie, Dustin, Robin, and Steve sitting around the basement.

“So,” Will began, turning his chair to face Eddie’s. “What do you think about my idea for a Princess Bride themed session?”

Eddie smiled. “I think we could make something work out.”

Will’s face lit up. “Great! What were your thoughts?”

You put down the book you’d been half-heartly reading and got up from your chair, walking over to the stairs to head up and get a drink while they talked. It wasn’t that you weren’t curious—you were—but you’d been waiting until the session ended to go up and get yourself a refill on the Coke Steve had in his fridge.

“Mind if I join you?” Steve said, following you up the stairs. “Robin refuses to leave this conversation to get herself some snacks. Said she needs to make sure the princess arc in it is challenging enough or something.”

You nodded your head as you continued up and turned to wait for him until you were both off the stairs and in the Harrington kitchen. “I only half listen into their sessions—more for the plot than game play. Plus it’s fun to watch Dustin have fun again. Thanks for letting Hellfire make base here.” You walked over to the fridge and opened it, pulling out a can of Coke for yourself. A quick open, the fizzing noise echoing in the room, and you take a swig before pulling back the bar stool from the kitchen’s island counter and sitting down. “I don’t know if I’ve ever really thanked you for being there for Dustin in a way I couldn’t, really.”

“Henderson’s a good kid. And I know you’re an amazing sister to him. But I get it,” Steve opened up a cupboard and pulled out a bag of microwave popcorn. He walked over to the microwave and popped it in, hitting some buttons until it turned on, and swung around to face you, his hips lightly resting on the edge of the counter. “Not that the little shit gave me much of a choice in the matter, but he really just needed some man-to-man conversations. Pain in my ass, still. But he’s grown on me. All those little shitheads have grown on me. They’re like—”

You take another sip of Coke and smile slightly up at Steve. “Your chicken nuggets?”

The microwave dinged and Steve blinked. “You talked to Nancy, didn’t you?”

You tactically looked around the room, taking yet another sip. “It…may have come up the day we helped Chrissy pack for State.”

Steve lowered his head, carefully turning around to open up the microwave and take out the popcorn, shaking it sadly to make sure all the pieces were covered in the fake butter from the packaging.

“Steve,” you said, your tone shifting into one of sympathetic laughter, “hey. Listen.” You got up from the stool and walked over to him, lightly placing a hand on his shoulder. “I think it’s really great that you want to have a big family. You’re good with them…even if you go around calling them shitheads all the time. You’ve kept them all safe, just like they were you own. You taught them important things, and helped them out when they asked, and most importantly?”

He turned to face you, popcorn bag in hand, his brown eyes wide and looking up at you through his lashes. It catches your breath for a second—enough for you to feel your heart skip a beat—and you have to close your own eyes to finish your sentence. “Y-you never fail to always keep on with that charming Harrington attitude. I know you hate always being the god damn babysitter, but Steve?”

His full attention is on you now, and you can feel yourself getting closer to him; his face inches from yours. “You are a genuine, caring person underneath all that hair.”

“HEY DINGUSES,” Robin’s voice shouted from the bottom of the basement stairs. “I can smell the popcorn! What is taking you so long?”

Steve backed away from you, and you turned around to grab your coke, your cheeks surely as red as they feel hot.

“Coming, your Highness,” Steve yelled out, “Or whatever it is you call yourself.”

“Dame Gaylord, for the record, Steve.” She called up. “Just hurry up with the popcorn, I’m starving down here!”

Steve looked over at you, shrugging his shoulders as he walked back down the stairs, popcorn bag in hand.

You gulp and sit down for a moment back on the stool, cradling your hands in your face.

What was that, you think, staring at the off-white counter. Did…am I going crazy? Or was that—you shake your head.

Your crush on Steve wasn’t new to you, but it had never seemed to be more than one sided. You had painfully made yourself make sure he never noticed it. So why now? Did he notice it now?

It started when you were both still in high school—he was the king of Hawkins high: all smiles, all suave charm, the way he carried himself…you couldn’t help it—but as you grew to know him, especially as he started to interact more with Dustin, taking him under his wing and helping him out; as you watched him time and time again put himself first to protect you and the rest of the gang, never failing to keep a smile on his face even in the most drastic, dangerous situations—your crush developed beyond a schoolgirl trope. You fell hard for Steve Harrington. It was hard at first to keep those feeling in check. Once or twice you had to hide your blush from him and shake it off cleverly, smiling and laughing, or changing the subject to something you know he could talk about for a ridiculous amount of time. You were pretty sure that he had no idea how much you liked him.

That is.

Until now.

The carbonated fizzle from the can of Coke beside you shook you from your thoughts, and you grabbed the can, chugging down half of it before walking back downstairs.

“But what I’m hearing,” Dustin’s voice rang through the basement, “is that you have tomorrow off.”

“I said I would think about calling off tomorrow—” Steve began, his hands planted firmly on his hips.

“Matty owes us time, Steve,” Robin said, tossing popcorn into her mouth. “We haven’t taken a day off since our shifts started back up this summer.”

You walked over to Eddie, who had his legs swung over the arm of his chair. “What exactly did I miss here, Munson?”

Eddie looked at you, a smile spreading across his face. “Midnight ride. Dustin’s trying to book us an overnight stay to finish plotting out Will’s Princess Bride session while the memory is still fresh in our heads. I know you’ve got the day off tomorrow, and I took afternoon shift at Motorwork’s. So, it’s all about convincing Harrington.”

You looked back over at Steve, who was slowly losing the battle against your brother and Robin. You couldn’t help but tilt your head a little bit and smile. He’d cave. He always caved for those two.

“Word has it, Henderson,” Eddie adjusted how he was sitting and leaned in closer to you, his hair brushing against the back of your head. “That all it would take to get him to cave right this minute is a smile from you.”

You snap your head to face Eddie, your brows knit. “On whose authority?” You questioned, your tone coming out angrier than you meant.

“I have eyes, Henderson. Unfortunately,” he leaned back into his chair, crossing his ankles and linking his hands together to support the back of his head. “I also know that sometimes our own eyes fail us at seeing the bigger picture when everyone else already can.”

You stared at him for a moment, your expression unchanging. Eddie was an assortment of flavors—you’d seen him go from being a chaotic punk to screaming child to love sick puppy in under 24 hours—but he never said anything that wasn’t true. And that would also mean that earlier…you weren’t imagining…

“How long,” your voice was quieter as you leaned back towards Eddie. “Have you noticed?”

“For you, darling?” He smirked. “First time I saw you two together. You were worse than I was with Chrissy.”

You bit your lip slightly. “And him?”

“Now, what would be the fun in telling you that?” He brought his arms back down off of his head and rubbed them on his thighs. “All I know is that if I had that kind of power over Harrington—and believe me, I’ve tried—I wouldn’t waste it.”

You blinked. A shiver ran down your spine and something inside your head—a usually very, very quiet voice—rang out. “If you won’t tell me,” you began, your eyes now focused on Steve, who was standing with both hands on his hips, slowly deflating under the weight of Dustin and Robin’s harassment. “Then at least help me figure out how to harness it.”

Eddie’s face lit up. He chuckled as he straightened out on his chair, his feet landing firmly on the floor. “Didn’t you say you wanted peanuts earlier?”

“Steve,” your voice came out louder than you anticipated, “call off tomorrow. It’s a Friday in October and the theater has better options. Matty can handle one night. Besides, you deserve a day off. Not to mention that I still want peanuts, and we’ve yet to go out and get some. We can pick up stuff to make for breakfast while we’re out.”

Steve looked at you, eyebrows raised. His stance softened a little and he tilted his head. “Why are you—”

“Are you seriously questioning my sister right now, Harrington? Go get her the damn peanuts. And pick up some Tang for the morning!” Dustin said, slapping Steve’s back.

You smiled—the one that seemed to always work; the one Eddie had noticed and said something about to you—and you watched. You watched as Steve sighed and closed his eyes.

“Anything else I can get for you assholes here at Harrington’s Bed and Breakfast?”

…

The drive out to the store felt awkward to you, but you did your best to ensure that it didn’t feel like that for Steve. It was hard, though, now that you’d had Eddie confirm Steve clearly had feelings for you to keep your usual calm, playful demeaner you’d worked so hard on the past several years. You’d tried simply keeping the volume up on the radio—you both loved to sing along to it, despite the fact that neither of you were exceptionally good at it—but that only worked until Tiffany’s I Think We’re Alone Now came on, and you couldn’t help but think that whoever was working the radio at the time was playing a cruel, cruel joke on you.

“I thought you loved this song,” Steve said, shifting his head quickly to look at you after you went to change the station. “Why change it?”

He reached over your hand and changed it back, turning it up.

“I think we’re alone now,” he sang at you, loudly. “There doesn’t seem to be anyone around.” He shook his shoulders and tapped the steering wheel in time to the song. “Come on, Ms. Henderson. Don’t even try to deny it. I’ve seen you sing this song into your hairbrush.”

“The beating of our hearts is the only sound.” You sang back at him, the smile returning to your face.

“There she is! That’s my girl,” he chuckled. He turned the volume up louder and you both sang along to the rest of the song until finally you pulled into the Kroger parking lot and he pulled into a spot, killed the engine, and turned to face you.

“Penny for your thoughts,” Steve said, looking at you, his brown eyes darker in the florescent glow of the parking lot lights.

“I am just focused on our task at hand,” you waved your hand at him and reached down to unbuckle your seatbelt. “That’s all.”

“Getting peanuts shouldn’t distract you enough that you change the radio station like that. I know you better, give me a little credit.”

You turned to face him, taking in how he was propped up in his chair; one arm over top the steering wheel, the other linked back around the seat. “I…I,” you had no idea how to bring out the question do you like me like I like you? in any manner that wouldn’t be embarrassing, so you just said the first thing that came out of your mouth instead. “I am just trying to think about how the boys and Robin are going to put The Princess Bride into their campaign.”

Steve blinked back at you. “S-sure.” He said, not quite believing you, you could tell, but also too polite to call you out on what clearly was a lie. “I mean, if they had asked me, I would have told them to focus mainly on the dread pirate Roberts stuff and go from there.”

The look you gave Steve was one you couldn’t stop yourself from making even if you tried. “Have you thought about this? I thought you didn’t understand D&D?”

“Yeah, well, I don’t get how you play that stupid game, but I know how to tell a story, thank you very much.” He said, taking his hand out from behind his seat and turning himself front facing. “I watched the same movie you guys did. In fact,” his tone in voice shifted, one that sounded like it had a bit of pride mixed in with shame. “I’ve seen the movie twice already.”

“When the fuck did you have time to see the movie?” You blurted out, unable to stop yourself.

“First time was on a date with…Stacey? Or maybe Sandy. Can’t remember. Second time was by myself, because Stacey-slash-Sandy was too busy trying to stick her tongue down my throat for me to pay attention to the movie. And I just. Really wanted to pay attention to it. It was a good movie.” He sighed and turned to face you. “That’s why when you asked me to drive you all to the theater, I wasn’t upset about the movie choice.”

You blinked. Fast at first, and then slowly a second time. “Steve Harrington likes a rom com.”

“You make it sound like I’m not allowed to enjoy movies with romance in them.” Steve said, offended.

“No, it’s not that. I just. Never pegged you for someone who would go see a movie like that on your own. The date thing I get. Me and the rest of the gang dragging you to a movie, yes. But on your own?”

“Yeah, well, a lot about me had changed in these last few years, if you hadn’t noticed. Though you should,” he said, his hand coming up to rest on your shoulder. You shivered. “You’ve been there alongside me. Hell, helped me change even. I’ve got a lot to thank you for, Ms. Henderson.”

You smiled at him, soft; warm. “Really?”

“Shit yeah, Henderson. You seem to genuinely care about me and call me out on my bullshit when I need it.” He looked down and smiled, his voice shifting in tone. “You’ve helped pick me back up and sewn me back together after all those times I’ve taken a beating; shown me how to grow and find ways to be part of the solution rather than the problem. I’m really lucky to have you in my life.”

The red in your face burned. But you didn’t care. “Steve, I—”

He cut you off with a single look up through his eyelashes. “There’s something I’ve been meaning to ask you for a while now. But I’ve never had the chance to. Until now.” He took a deep breath, letting it out slowly as he leaned in closer to you. “I’ve had a crush on you for a while now. I just didn’t know how to tell you in case you didn’t feel the same way I did. I didn’t want to ruin what we already have by putting my feelings into the mix. But I have to tell you now. Especially after what almost happened in the kitchen. I’d regret it if I didn’t.”

You stared at him. For several seconds, unsure of what to do. It was like being caught in headlights.

He stared back; tried to lean back to give you your space, his hopeful smile starting to faulter, but you grabbed his hand tightly in yours and squeezed. “Steve, I…” you start, your brain firing off thoughts in different directions and your mouth unable to release any of them.

“Hey,” he said, patting your hand. “It’s okay. I get it if you—”

You pulled him in and lightly placed a kiss to his lips, messy and simple, because it’s all you could think to do to let him know how you feel; that his feelings were reciprocated.

When you pull back, Steve’s eyes were closed, his mouth slightly opened. You stared at him like this, wondering if what you did was the right move when his eyes snapped open and his mouth spread into the biggest grin you’d ever seen.

“I am going to take that as a positive sign,” he said before leaning in closer to you. He grabbed both of your hands and looked down at them, his thumbs rubbing random patterns into your palm. “But I would really, really love it if you’d say something.”

You looked down at your hands, your brain still processing what you’d just done, unable to look at him in the eye yet.

“Hey,” Steve lifted up your chin and brushed your hair carefully behind your ear. “I’m kinda sticking myself out on a limb right now and I could use some good old Henderson comforting I’ve come to love.”

Your brain finally stopped. “I’ve had a crush on you for a while, too.”

“That was what I was hoping you’d say,” he said, bringing his face in closer to yours, inches from your mouth. “There’s just one more thing I’m hoping for, though.”

You looked up from his mouth and into his eyes, confusion swirling in your thoughts.

“There is?” You breathed, so close to him you could hear the beat of his heart and smell his shampoo.

“Tell me that I can finally kiss you.” He whispered. “A real one.”

You smiled—the same one you’ve used so many times before. “Absolutely.”

Steve smiled back. “Have I ever told you that that little smile of yours does things to me that I’m not particularly proud to admit in detail yet?”

“Steve,” you plead, your arm now reached up and carded through his hair.

“Tell me I can kiss you again?” He said, his lips brushing against yours and his nose nudging your cheek.

“For you, Harrington?” you said, bringing him in closer. “You can kiss me any time you want.”

You felt his smile as he kissed you; light and soft at first, quickly turning into something deeper as he slid his hand from the base of your jaw to your ear, slowly combing through your hair as he cupped the back of your head. It was breathless and loving, unlike any kiss you’d had before. You lost yourself within his embrace and it was only when he bit your bottom lip, pulling you closer and tilting your head that you were able to catch your breath. In doing so, you moved your hand to his shoulder and forced yourself to pull apart, deep breaths taking over you both and fogging up the windows surrounding you.

“That was—” you started, your focus still lingering on his mouth.

“Worth the wait,” he finished, resting his forehead on yours. He grinned and leaned back in again to steal two more kisses from your lips before you pushed yourself off of him again, giggling.

“Steve,” you protested as he turned his head and began gently placing kisses along your jawline and down to your neck. “Steve, we’ve still got to go in and get those peanuts or everyone’s going to get suspicious.”

“Who gives a shit about what they think,” Steve said in-between kisses. “We’re alone now. I’ve finally got you all to myself, and I don’t want to waste a second of that.”

You felt a jolt of electricity tingle in your head and it softened your eyes. You could just forget about everything for a while—enjoy they fact that Steve Harrington was here, kissing you after professing his crush. And wouldn’t that be enough?

You grabbed Steve’s head, pulling him up so you could look him soundly in the eyes. His hair was messy, his pupils blown, and his lips plump from kissing you. He looked almost feral—flushed and salacious—but still soft, comforting, gentle. “I promise,” you stroked his cheek with your thumb, doing your best to hold his attention. “I won’t let you waste any second you’re with me. But there will be so much more time for that if we get what we came for and go back to your place. Steve,” you gave him a quick kiss, reminding him you were still there with him, “the quicker we do this, the quicker I can show you just how long I’ve waited for you.”

Steve stared at you, his eyes trained on yours.

“Because there’s only so much I can show you in a car. It’s…a little cramped. I expect your bed will accommodate many more things.”

He pulled himself from your grasp at that, and you watched as your words ignited a fire in him. “Pancakes or French toast for breakfast?” He said, opening up the car door and swinging his leg out. “Come on, Ms. Henderson. Let’s go! Move your ass, we’ve got things to take care of. Mainly…me.”

“As you wish,” you chuckled as you opened the door and stepped out in the cold night air.

…

Halloween was Saturday. The Byers were throwing a party because the kids all complained they were too old for trick-or-treating, and you and Steve had decided to go in on a couples costume as The Princess Bride herself and The Dread Pirate Roberts.

Steve was more excited about it than you—he hadn’t stopped telling everyone about how much he loved the film (even though Robin, sick of hearing him quote the movie endlessly at her, threatened to push him down a hill if he didn’t stop it at work), and he was quick to ask you about doing couples costumes once he stopped prompting make-out sessions.

“I didn’t take Steve Harrington for one wanting to do couples costumes.” You said when he’d asked you.

“What can I say?” He responded, hand on his hip. “I like to surprise people. Plus I’ve been thinking about all the things I used to be—who I was in high school—really wasn’t who I wanted to be. It was all some deliberate attempt to be someone my father wanted me to be. Everything that people say you should care about, it’s all just bullshit. When I’m with you, I feel like I can drop the bullshit and just be myself. And myself is someone who wants to do a couples costume with you from a really good movie.”

You stepped closer to him and grabbed his hand, kissing his cheek and smiling. “That is why I started liking you in the first place. Because I watched you challenge yourself to be the best possible version of you that you could be.”

Steve blushed. “Turns out all I needed was a thump on the head to change my life. And I’m grateful for it every single damn day.”

You cupped his face and rubbed your thumb along his cheek before pulling him into a hug. “I am too.”

“I’ll see you and Dustin after my shift tonight.” He said, breaking away from the hug. “You’re going to have to tell me how you convinced Matty to give you the best shifts when I get there.”

You laughed. “I don’t get the best shifts. I just get lucky. I also don’t spend half of my shift trying to flirt with you, Steve.”

Steve shifted his stance. “You saying you want me to stop, Henderson?”

“No,” you chuckled. “I’m just saying Matty doesn’t do love-sick.” And love-sick was probably the best way to describe Steve ever since last Thursday. It was almost like he couldn’t get his fill of you—stolen glances as you two put movies back on shelves; winks and nods while on lunch; a stealthy grabbing of your hand as he walked you to his car at the end of a shift, a passionate kiss sometimes on the hood that left you both aching for something more.

Those days were the best, because as he drove you back home, anticipatory for intimacy, you’d talk. About your day, about your struggles and excitements and plans for the not-so-distant future dates you’d take. The make-out sessions you’d had in his car were amazing (Steve was an excellent kisser. More importantly, he was good with his hands. The way he’d cup your face, his thumb on your jawline, fingers behind your ear. How it slowly slid back until he held the base of your skull and moved your head so he could get the best angle. How his other hand carefully caressed your back and slid to your hips…or sometimes…sometimes, when the day had been particularly stressful, he’d reach around and lift up the side of your shirt to cup your breast, teasing your nipple in such a way that it would send a wave of pleasure through you and create a small hitch in your breath that always produced a toothy smirk from him. This was, of course, followed by a pull on your lips so forceful it dragged your entire head forward and allowed the kiss to become deeper—his mouth opening yours and his tongue finding its way inside. You’d get him back, though. After the kiss deepened, you’d push him backward and climb on top of him, running your fingers through his ridiculously perfect hair; starting at the base of his neck and grabbing and pulling it slightly once your whole hand had found its way into the feathered layers. Then you’d grind into him a little bit until you could feel the bulge in his pants, give him your own deepened kiss until you could hear him moan, and then…excuse yourself off of him, kiss him one last time—soundly on his cheek or forehead or a peck on the lips—and bid him goodnight, enjoying the dazed and confused look he gave as he watched you walk up to the front door and blow him a kiss before stepping inside) but those conversations before then were something even better. You’d always been close to Steve, but this was new territory. And it felt…right.

“Lucky, sure.” Steve picked up a bunch of VHS tapes and walked over to an aisle. “I’ll see you tonight, Ms. Henderson.”

…

“Hey,” Dustin called through your closed door, knocking once before letting himself in. “I just need a bit of help getting my hair just right.”

You looked him up and down, smiling at your brother’s costume. “Han Solo. I am guessing Suzie is Leia?”

“Yeah. We’re going to be calling each other later tonight to watch Empire Strikes Back together over the phone.” He sighed, sitting down on your vanity chair. “But for now, I’d like some help getting my hair to be less curls, more poof.”

You chuckled and moved towards him to help. “No problem.”

“Are you and Steve going as Princess Buttercup and Westley? Your costume looks spot-on.”

“We are. And thanks, Steve sewed it himself.”

Dustin broke away from your comb and turned to face you. “Steve knows how to sew?”

“He took Home Economics our sophomore year to impress some girls and wound up actually enjoying it. Says it was worth the entire class because now he knows how to hem his pants and cook basic meals—which he also thought doubled his chance at being able to woo women.” You turned Dustin back to face the mirror and started to brush out his curls again, taming them with whatever product you could find so they fanned out around his face.

“I have heard the ladies love a man who knows how to cook,” he said, watching you work in the mirror, a giant grin on his face.

“Ladies love a man that knows how to take care of themselves, Dustin. That’s like…bare minimum qualification. Know how to take care of yourself, which includes being able to ask for help when you need it. And, suffice to say little brother, you’ve got that down.” You applied some hair spray to the top of Dustin’s head and leaned down so your face was right next to his. “Suzie is one lucky lady to have a guy like you.”

“Thanks,” his face turned a light shade of red. “But I feel like I’m the lucky one.” He took one last look in the mirror before he got up and headed toward your door. “I’ll be downstairs with Steve, attempting to calm mom down about us leaving for the night. But don’t take too long. I’m starving, and Argyle is supposed to be bringing pizza. I want to get there before there’s nothing but pineapple left.”

You smiled. “Be down in a minute, then.”

It was time for the final check. You walked over to your mirror to look at your reflection. Buttercup’s head piece was neatly pinned into the cheap wig you’d picked up and her belt was securely wrapped around your waist. The bottom of the bright red dress was hemmed perfectly so that it fell down at your ankles and you smiled in spite of yourself, feeling like an actual princess. You only got to see Steve’s costume once while he was giving you yours, but it wasn’t on him—just casually draped over the back of a chair. In fact, the only part of the ‘costume’ you’d gotten to see at all was the thin little mustache Steve had been growing since you agreed to do the couples costume. It was a good look for him, actually.

A final brush of your dress and you opened your door.

“Dustin said you were almost ready, but to try and convince you to come down faster so he wouldn’t be stuck with pine—wow.” Steve took a step back from your door, glancing at you up and down. “That dress really. It really works for you.”

You grinned and looked down at the dress. “Thanks. You don’t look so bad yourself.”

Steve regained his composure and took a bow. “At your service. M’lady.”

You giggled and pushed past him, heading for the stairs. You could have stayed there, in your doorway, eyeing him up and down in that costume though. His pants were a little tighter than the ones Cary Elwes wore, and the thread that was supposed to lightly fasten the top of his shirt was loose, exposing the top of his chest hair. He’d yet to put on the mask and black cloth around his hair, but that was what made it better. But if you did that, you knew you’d never get to the party on time and Dustin would berate you for missing the non-pineapple pizza for the next three weeks.

“Let’s get going to the party, less Han over here gets stuck with pineapple pizza,” you called out as you descended the staircase. “We’ll be home late tonight, mom. If you desperately need us, call the Byers.”

“Finally!” Dustin threw his hands up and opened up the front door. “Let’s go, Harrington! Get your ass down here so we can leave.”

“Yeah, yeah, don’t get your panties in a twist, Henderson.” Steve said, trailing out the door and unlocking his car. “We still have to pick up Robin and Vicki.”

You followed them both out, blowing a kiss to your mom before shutting the door behind you and heading towards Steve’s car.

“Why are you always the chauffeur?” Dustin asked, opening up the backseat and sliding in.

“You know, Henderson? I ask myself that same god damn question every single time I get in my car.” The engine roared to life. “If you—either of you—want to tell me how I ended up with this job, I’d really like to know.”

…

Hopper opened up the door, his skin painted green and a brown suit swimming on his body. “Glad you kids could make it!” He said, moving to the side to let you all in. “Argyle’s late with the pizza, but we’ve broken out snacks until he gets here.”

“Thanks, Hopper.” Dustin said, pushing past him. “Good to know I won’t miss out on the good pizza.”

You smiled as you walked past Hopper, your hand holding Steve’s.

“Well, that’s new.” Hooper closed the door and turned back around to face you. “When did this happen?”

“A couple weeks ago,” Steve said, gripping your hand tighter. “But it’s been a long time coming.”

Hopper laughed. “I know the feeling. Joyce is around here somewhere, make sure you tell her the party’s going great. She’s been on edge since this morning about decorations and party games. Even though I told her you kids were probably just going to end up playing that game you guys always play. Or watching whatever monster flick is on the tube tonight.”

“Will do, Herman.” You nodded your head at Hop, letting a single chuckle escape your mouth.

“And here I thought you kids wouldn’t get The Munsters reference.” Hopper smoothed down his jacket, grabbing it by the lapels once done.

You smiled and pulled Steve forward into the living room, where you found everyone else sitting around, talking.

“I see Buttercup and Westley have made their grand entrance, finally.” Eddie said, standing up from his seat to walk over to you. “M’Lady,” he made a swift bow when he reached you, his hair falling down in front of his face and his arm raised behind him. “Glad to see that you could make it with Harrington, in matching costume, no less.”

Steve pushed Eddie back slightly on the shoulder and grinned. “Looks like we’re not the only one in matching costume.” He pointed towards Chrissy, who was busy talking to Nancy.

“Aragorn and Arwen, from Tolkien’s masterpiece, dude.” Eddie grinned, his face going soft when he looked at Chrissy. “I sent her with all the books to read while at State. She’s really gotten into them. She’s the one who suggested we go as Aragorn and Arwen, and I couldn’t pass up an opportunity to dress as the great Strider.”

Steve’s expression turned into one you recognized as confusion. “This is like, related to that Mordor thing, isn’t it?”

“Lord of The Rings, Harrington.” Eddie patted him on the back. “It’s a good thing you’re pretty.”

“Alright!” You clapped your hands, walking farther into the room. “Who’s ready to finally have some fun for once?”

“I know I am,” you turned to see Max approach you, dressed as Freddy Kruger—or, at least you thought that’s what she was going as from the looks of her sweater and hat.

“Bit too much on the nose, don’tcha think, Red?” Eddie sat down next to Chrissy, who beamed up at him, and wrapped his arm around her.

“Thought it was funny. Plus I wanted an excuse to wear a sweater and jeans,” Max said, plopping down on the couch across from where you stood. “Lucas wanted us to do a couples costume this year, but he and I couldn’t agree on one we both liked. So, I chose Freddie Kruger, and he—”

“Decided to go as The Terminator,” Lucas finished, walking into the room wearing a leather jacket and a pair of sunglasses. “I ran out of time at the last minute because someone didn’t want to do The Breakfast Club with me.”

“Sorry Lucas,” Max said. “But I’m no princess. No offense,” she added, looking at you and Chrissy.

“Oh, none taken, Max! Truth be told,” Chrissy said, adjusting her legs so they no longer crossed. “I always hated being shoved into that princess stereotype, so I understand. Before I met you guys, I didn’t think I’d ever be able to break it.”

“With that roundhouse you’ve got,” Eddie beamed, “I never doubted for a second you were anything but a terrifying badass.”

“Yeah Chrissy,” Dustin chimed in. “Who’d a thought you could take out so many demobats with backflips and cheer movies. Most metal thing I’ve ever seen.”

Chrissy blushed, tucking away a strand of strawberry blonde hair behind her ear. “Thanks guys. And also, just for the record, Arwen isn’t a princess. She’s the daughter of Elrond; Lady of Rivendell and later Queen of the Reunited Kingdom.”

Eddie placed a kiss to the side of Chrissy’s head. “That’s my girl.”

You chuckled and shook your head, turning to face Max. “Believe me, Max. I don’t think anyone here is princess material, despite their costumes.”

“I thought about being a princess,” El chimed in, her hair piled in curls on top of her head. “But then Mike and I went to see Alien and I thought I would make a much better Ellen Ripley.”

You turned to get a better look at El and realized she was in a near-perfect replica jumpsuit, complete with a stuffed cat and plastic gun slung around her.

“You make an excellent Ripley, El,” Lucas said, opening up a piece of candy from the table in the middle of the room. “You’d also give her a run for her money. Not that I think you two would fight. But….that might be a cool match to see.”

You leaned over to Steve to let him know you were going to go grab something to drink before walking out of the living room and towards the kitchen. The Byers’ house was a lot bigger now that Hopper and Joyce were living together and you could tell it was slowly becoming well-loved. Pictures hung up in the hallway on your way there: Will smiling as he was painting, Jonathan contemplating in the background; El and Will sitting on the couch reading together; Jonathan and El sitting on the floor of the living room, headphones on and listening to music; Joyce and Hopper smiling and looking at each other, snow on the ground with Christmas lights in the background; all five of the found family laughing around a table covered in pumpkin guts from last year’s Halloween. It was comforting to know that they were able to create a sense of normalcy again after all the trauma they’d endured the past couple of years.

“Princess Buttercup.” Will’s voice, now deeper than it had been just a summer ago, caught you off guard as you entered the kitchen.

“Luke Skywalker.” You took a step back, your head tilted to get a better look at his costume.

Will smiled before pulling down on the black sweater he was wearing. “I’m glad you know who I am.”

“I’m sorry sweetie,” Joyce bent down and put a glass pan that appeared to be full of cheese inside the oven. “I’m sure he’s a wonderful character from that film series you and Jonathan won’t stop talking about. I’m just a little preoccupied at the moment.”

“Mrs. Byers,” you said, as you took a step closer to her, “do you need any help with that?”

“Sweetheart,” she replied, adjusting her long, black wig that had fallen forward on her face. “I’ve told you—all of you kids, actually—Joyce is just fine. Thanks for the offer, but I’ve got it handled!”

“She’s just making some nachos to tide us over until Argyle gets here, whenever that may be.” Will said as he walked over to the kitchen table to put on a belt. “I could use your help with this, though. I couldn’t find a scabbard to wear, but I did manage to construct Luke’s lightsaber and belt just right. I even found a pair of boots at the thrift shop that work. But…I can’t seem to get it on without help.”

“No problem,” you stepped forward and turned Will around to help attach the belt.

“I’m guessing that Steve is dressed as Westley?” Will questioned, his head turning slightly to the side to see your face.

“Yeah. It was his idea too. He’s seen the movie something like three times now and convinced me we’d be the perfect Buttercup and Westley.”

Will let out a small laugh. “I’m glad you guys are going out. It was painfully obvious to everyone else that you two needed to end up together—”

“God, every single time we had Murray over for dinner he wouldn’t stop talking about putting you both in a room rother until you came out a couple.” Joyce called from the pantry, interrupting Mike mid-sentence and causing you to raise your eyebrows. “I knew eventually you two would work it out—like Hop and I did—because god knows Murray doesn’t need to control everyone’s love life around here.”

“I like Murray well enough, but she’s got a point.” Will said, holding his belt up as you gave it one last adjustment before turning him around to face you. “We all knew you’d wind up together one way or another. Except maybe Mike. He still thinks Robin and Vicki are just friends.”

You snorted a laugh. Robin had come out to the group a little after what happened last spring, right before Steve helped her get the courage to ask Vicki out. Everyone took it pretty well—especially Will and Eddie, who hugged her excessively when she was trembling her way through her speech—but Mike had just sort of stood there, unable to grasp what it was Robin was saying. “He’s very dense. Nice, but…”

“Yeah,” Will sighed, stepping back and smoothing out his pants. “Thanks for helping me. Though I’m sure that’s not what you came into the kitchen for in the first place.”

You blink, trying to remember what it was that you came in here for. “Coke.” You finally blurt out, your thoughts distracted by the tone in Will’s voice.

Will turned and headed over to the fridge to pull out a can for you, his arm stretched out as he comes back. You wavered a bit before you decided to reach out and pull him into a hug, your arms clasping around his back, his hand still outstretched, holding a Coke. Everyone had been through a lot over the years, but it was always Will that seemed to need a little more comforting than everyone ese. You knew Jonathan would always be there for him, and since Eddie had met him, he’d made sure Will knew he was accepted into the Hellfire club. But still. Maybe it was just the sister instinct that took over when you were around Will that made you want to comfort him. “Thanks Will.” You pulled back from him and smiled, grabbing the Coke out of his hand. “Make sure Dustin see’s your outfit. I have a feeling he’ll go bananas over it.”

Joyce walked out of the pantry, a bag of tortilla chips in her hand. “Happy again to hear about you and Steve, sweetheart. These nachos should be done in a couple minutes, make sure to let everyone know there’s something here in lieu of pizza.”

“Will do, Mrs. Munster.” You smiled.

“Lily.” Joyce corrected.

You laughed as you walked out of the kitchen and back towards the living room.

“Robin and Vicki did a couples costume! We could have had the whole Breakfast Club!” You heard Lucas shout as you entered the room. You saw in the corner that Robin and Vicki had finally made their way into the Byers house (they opted to stay in the car to get ready, as when you went to pick them up, neither one of them had costumes on), and you couldn’t help but wonder why they were dressed as Ally Sheedy and Molly Ringwald from The Breakfast Club of all things.

“Feel free not to answer,” you said, walking up to the two ladies. “But The Breakfast Club?”

Vicki smiled and placed her hand on Robin’s shoulder. “Your idea, so you explain it to her.”

Robin took a sip from the cup she was holding and closed her eyes. “So,” she began, her voice competing with the sound of the music someone had put on while you were gone, “you’ve seen the movie, right? There’s that scene, in the end, where Molly Ringwald’s character takes Ally Sheedy to the side and completely redoes her make up. Which, first of all, didn’t need to be done. Because she was just fine the way she was. But, more importantly, she did the make up the way she though would make her look better. It was soooo intense. And it just, clicked? You know? They totally could have been a couple. The princess and the oddball. It’s a huge literary trope, so, why couldn’t it be like that with the two of them? Honestly, that whole film could have been the gateway into making gay history. I mean, it’s clearly an undertone of the entire film. It’s subtext—”

“Robin, sweetheart,” Vicki chimed in, placing a hand on Robin’s shoulder. “The film did a pretty good job with the written material, regardless of the subtext. Not that your theory isn’t fascinating. But…I thought Claire’s make-over for Allison was nice. All she did was wash her face and pull her hair up so you could see her eyes. I liked how simple it was.”

“Vicki, Vicki, Vicki,” Robin said, turning to face her girlfriend. “You’re missing the point. We’ve talked over this! It’s—”

Vicki placed a finger on Robin’s lips. “Okay, smartypants. I secede. Why don’t we go and get something to eat? I’ve been smelling nachos for the past five minutes, and I want to grab some before the teenaged boys do and leave nothing left for us.”

Robin smiled. “Yes. I am famished.” She turned back to face you, her hand now captured in Vicki’s. “As for you, don’t think I didn’t notice how you’re dressed up as Buttercup when Steve is Westley. You and I will have a chat about that later! I know I can convince you to have him stop quoting that damn movie all the time!”

Vicki tugged at Robin’s arm and the two headed back to the kitchen.

You went to go and stand next to Steve, who was sitting on the arm of the chair next to Dustin, watching Michael Jackson’s Thriller video on the TV, when the front door opened.

“Happy Halloween, brochacos,” Argyle said, walking through the front door, bringing with him the scent of pizza and weed. “I’ve brought the pizza and Halloween because I think it’s absolutely the right way to go about today.” He set down five pizza boxes on the couch and held up a VHS. “And one of those pies has pineapple, my guys. May I remind you again, try before you deny.”

El smiled. “I enjoy pineapple on my pizza, Argyle. But I do not understand your costume.”

Argyle laughed. “I am Brand from The Goonies, my alien fighting friend.” He snapped at his red head band. “Please tell me someone here has shown her the greatest movie of our time.”

“I’ll make sure she sees it, Argyle.” Will said, walking over towards El. “It’s one of my favorites. It’s about a group of kids that go on a treasure hunt in order to save their home. Mikey’s optimism got me through the worst of the nightmares after last spring. He just. Reminds me of someone I know. I think you’ll really like it.”

“If Will says it’s a good movie,” El said, “then I will be sure to watch it, Argyle. But first…pizza.”

“Second on that,” Nancy said, moving out from her corner and towards the couch, adjusting her sweater and corduroy pants. “Thanks for bringing the pizza, Argyle.”

“Totally no problemo, Nance. Or should I say…?”

“Oh, I’m Carrie Fisher’s character in The Blues Brothers. Jake is around here somewhere.” Nancy said, picking up the gun she’d placed on the floor.

You looked closely at the gun, your eyebrows raising when you realized—

“Excellent prop gun, Nance!” Argyle smiled, his entire face beaming with joy for a moment before his eyebrows crossed. “Right?”

Eddie snickered from the corner. “Guess again, my friend.”

“Can’t be too lenient around here, even if things have quieted down. Had to work this thing into my costume somehow. It was easy enough to dress Jonathan up in a suit, too. Plus,” Nancy walked over to the pizza, opened the box, and took out a slice. “I just like Carrie Fisher.”

“Me too,” Argyle said, his smile returning to his face. “I don’t know if I would have gotten that one right away. Not like Westley and Buttercup over there from the second greatest movie of our time.”

“Thank you!” Steve said dramatically, raising his arms. “I am not the only one here with taste.”

“It’s not that you don’t have taste,” Robin walked over towards the pizza, a can of Coke in her hand from the kitchen. “It’s that you’re annoying about it.”

Steve just stared at her, his mouth slightly open, trying to think of something to say back to her.

“Aw man, just let it go. Best not to argue with Allison Reynolds.” Argyle slapped Steve on the back. “Which. Digging the costume, Robin. I take it Vicki is Claire, because of that whole make-up scene, right?”

“Argyle,” Robin said, opening up the pizza box with pineapple and grabbing a slice. “You have excellent taste.”

“Thanks, dude. Now,” Argyle slapped Steve on the back again, causing him to flinch slightly. “Why don’t you and your princess come grab a slice of pineapple before it’s all gone. My taste extends beyond that of film!”

You grabbed Steve’s hand and walked over to grab a slice of pizza together, enjoying the atmosphere of being surrounded by your friends.

…

“You seem a decent fellow,” Steve said, circling the table in the middle of the living room. “I hate to die.”

You watched as Steve and Dustin continued to circle each other, Steve holding up his plastic sword and Dustin his plastic blaster. Everyone was in various degrees of watching them—Eddie was enthralled by their performance while Robin and Vicki had left the room completely after Steve brought out the movie quotes.

“This is such a boring conversation,” Dustin stopped circling and held up his blaster. “Besides, ancient weapons are no match for a good blaster at your side.”

“There is something I ought to tell you,” Steve said, his sword now in front of his face—which had lost the mask and bandana long ago, giving his hair a wild look to it.

“Oh? As long as it’s not the odds. Never tell me the odds.” Dustin motioned his plastic blaster so it dropped a little.

“Get used to disappointment.” Steve lunged forward at the exact time Dustin began making blaster sounds and ran his sword under Dustin’s arm.

“Laugh,” Dustin choked, dramatically falling to his knees. “It,” he dropped his blaster and looked down at the floor before lying down, the sword still sticking out from his armpit. “Up,” he coughed. “Fuzzball.” Dustin closed his eyes and curled up, faking his death like the dramatic kid he was.

You clapped. “Alright, can we please head out now? Some of us have to work in the morning, you know.”

Steve turned to you, his expression of satisfaction still plastered on his face.

“You’re really not going to mourn the death of your own brother?” Dustin said, looking up at you from the floor.

“I shouldn’t need to mourn. Han Solo doesn’t miss. Maybe you should have dressed as a Stormtrooper,” you joked, watching Dustin’s brow furl. “Kidding. I’m very sad for you, Dustin. But I also really just want to take a shower and get to bed. It’s almost eleven. Half the party is gone, anyway.”

Besides Robin, Vicki, Eddie, and Chrissy, everyone had trickled out of the Byer’s house throughout the night.

“Your sister’s right, Henderson,” Steve said, walking over to you and wrapping his arm around your shoulder. “Besides, aren’t you supposed to call Suzie tonight or something?”

Dustin shot up. “She’s gonna kill me if I’m late! Movie’s on at midnight.” He rushed to the door. “Robin! Vicki! Let’s go! Thanks for the party, Mrs. Byers! See you at Hellfire, Will!”

You shook your head and waited for everyone to say their thank you’s and goodbyes before walking out and getting into Steve’s car. You dropped Robin and Vicki off first, then turned the radio on and enjoyed the ambiance of Halloween decorations to Michael Jackson’s Thriller. When you finally pulled into your driveway, Dustin shot out of the car, barely thanking Steve as he ran into the house to call Suzie.

“That kid has it bad,” Steve said, shutting off the engine.

“Suzie’s good for him, I think.” You said, shifting to look at Steve. “I’m glad he’s found someone.”

“I’m glad I found you,” Steve said, pulling you in for a kiss. “Thanks for being my Buttercup tonight and every night.”

You smiled. “I’m glad I found you too, Steve. Thanks for being my Westley, babysitter boy.”

Steve chuckled as you opened up your car door and got out. “I’ll see you later.” You blew him a kiss and headed for your front door, a faint mumble from Steve barely hitting your ears.

…

Turns out, a hot shower after a long night can also wake you up considerably. You were lucky enough to have a bathroom attached to your room; it made the transition of getting out and getting dressed easier.

Or so you thought.

“There’s a shortage of perfect breasts in this world,” Steve said, lying on top of your bed, his arms behind his head. “T’would be a pity to damage yours.”

You stood in the bathroom doorway, robe halfway on, your hair tied up. “Steve?”

“Guilty as charged.”

“What—how—why—HOW did you get into my room?”

“You keep your windows unlocked. I’ve been plotting a route up here for days, ever since you agreed to do Princess Bride costumes. I wanted to surprise you.”

You stared at him, open mouth, not paying attention to your robe as it slowly opened up more. He smiled at you wider, sitting up a little on your bed. “Too much? Too cheesy?”

You shook your head and grasped at your robe, pulling it tighter (causing Steve’s smile to fade a bit). “Steve, I watched as you and Dustin made pew-pew and clanking noises for five minutes. I don’t think it was too cheesy.”

He sat back, relieved.

“Besides,” you walked over to your bed and sat down on the other side. “What I like most about you is your cheesiness.”

Steve quickly turned his head towards you and scoffed. “I am not—”

“Steve. You’re cheesy. Charming. Gallant and almost stoic to a fault. Maybe not the most gracious with words or coordination…but that is why I love you.”

Steve looked at you, his mouth a straight line. “Ms. Henderson,” he began, sitting up once again. “I believe you’ve just said something there is no going back from.”

You blinked. “I did?”

He smirked and scootched closer to you. “You looooooove me.”

You felt your cheeks grow hot—not just because you were embarrassed, but because you hadn’t planned on telling him on accident. There were three options you could go with now. Option one: playfully hit him and deny it. Option two: kiss him to shut him up. Option three: disrobe and distract him completely.

You knew which option it had to be.

You faced him and gently reached up to cup his cheek, pulling him closer to you. “Steve Harrington, I have loved you since the first day you brought Dustin home with a smile on his face. I love your charm, and your determination, and how incredibly stupid you can be, risking your life for everyone in an attempt to always be a better version of yourself.” You kept eye contact with him, watching him as he watched you. “You may act like you don’t care, or that you’re too cool, or that you hate being the babysitter, but I know you Steve. And I love what I see.” You reached up to run your fingers to the back of his head, your eyes flicking between his and his lips. “I love you, Steve Harrington.”

This kiss was different than the ones you’ve had in the past. It was more passionate—more pure; it left all the others behind Steve would quote to you later on—and left you feeling light headed. Slowly, you found yourself crawling up on your knees. He grabbed at your waist and pulled you flush against him, one hand pawing at the small of your back and the other cradling the back of your head, reaching up to loosen your hair so it cascaded down and tickled your ears. You turned your head to deepen the kiss, your hands digging into his hair to keep a semblance of keeping upright. Ultimately this was useless as you found yourself melting into him, sighing unapologetically as he nipped at your bottom lip. He reached his hand up to cup your face and pulled apart for the briefest of seconds before he lightly kissed you once; twice; three times before resting his forehead on yours, his breathing faster in effort to catch his breath.

His eyes remain closed, but yours looked at him gently, your cheeks red and your mouth slightly agape.

“You know, Ms. Henderson,” he opened his eyes finally and flicked them up to match yours, a cheeky smile growing on his puffy lips. “I love you too.”

You leaned in to give him another kiss, soft and gentle, the smile on your face growing wider. “You know,” you said, breaking away from the kiss, much to Steve’s disappointment. “Since you went through all that trouble of recreating the scene where Westley comes to rescue Buttercup…”

Steve gently fixed your hair behind your ear, his eyes only leaving yours for a minute. You reached up to place your hand on top of his before placing it back down across his chest. You smirk. He had less than a second to register as you pushed him down on the bed, straddled him, and reached for the belt of your robe, loosening it. “Why not really give into the scene?”

Steve’s mouth closed shut as his eyes moved up and down on you, watching as you leaned forward and began to kiss him, starting with his forehead and working your way down to the two tiny little moles along his jawline.

“Gently,” he whispered, his hands on your hips.

“At a time like this, that’s all you can think of to say? Gently?” You tuck one hand behind his head and lift him up slightly, grabbing his mouth in yours.

“Gently,” he said again before you released him from your kiss, his head knocking against the headboard of your bed. “Ouch.”

You giggled. “That’s for Robin. Stop quoting the movie to her at work so much.”

Steve took a hand off of you and rubbed at the back of his head. “Fine,” he said, scooting himself down further so his head was at the bottom of the pillow. “I’d much rather hear you quote the movie to me anyway. It’s hot…”

You placed a finger over his mouth and smirked before leaning back down to kiss him again. “As you wish.”

[skyrigel]

me: feels unloved *searches x reader tag*

[flow33didontsmoke]

when y/n does something so bad/embarrassing you have to facepalm and close your eyes for a minute

[natti-ice]

18+ mdni

that reality check hitting after reading smut

[thatboisus]

reading a good ass fanfic up until it said something that just makes you want to stop reading

[l0velysmut]

family: “why are you just sitting in ur room smiling at ur phone?”

me who’s been reading smut about fictional characters for the past 6 hours:

[inknopewetrust]

[bethsvrse]

me staring at my ceiling after y/n does the most FLABBERGASTING thing ever

[shoot1ngst4r]

going out of your way to search up [insert character] ANGST and all you get is smut

[colmiillo]

me acting like I just didn't read the most filthy nasty hot smut fic of my life

[l0caltiredgirl]

when i want fluff/angst fics and all i’m getting is smut

the struggle is real

[itshelia]

Taking anti-depressant pills?? Seeing a therapist??? Journaling???? No need babe, my fav writer just dropped another x reader fic.

[moonxnite]

y’all ever fantasize about a fictional character a little too hard to the point you’re convinced you should be admitted to a mental hospital?

[actually-mentally-ill]

finding out making up whole detailed scenarios with fictional characters in your head is a “sign of mental illness”

[natti-ice]

every time i remember my favorite person isn’t real

[sleepyangelkami]

smut's fun. have you ever read soul crushing, heart aching, head throbbing comfort that makes your eyes burn out of your head to the point where you just have to crawl into a ball because your inner child feels so safe? haha... yeah smuts fun.