#Steve Harrington series | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

stevesgother · 2 months ago

Text

Chalkboard Hearts Pt III - S.H

Pairing - Teacher!Steve Harrington x Single!Mom!Reader

WC - 4.3k

Summary - A winter dance recital prompts you and Steve to spend a little more time together outside of the school.

AN - here they are again! the crowd favs it seems. thank you all so much again for the love on previous parts, i’m so excited for everyone to see where the story is headed and what these two losers get up to next. ~ emma <3

Outside the door labeled with a plaque that reads ‘Mr. Harrington’ in neat font, you can just barely make out the faint hum of a distantly familiar song. The door is slightly ajar but you still give a soft knock before entering to announce your arrival.

“Mommy!” Abbey shouts as she barrels towards you; whatever activity she was previously occupied with long forgotten.

“Hi, bug!” You greet through a quiet grunt as you hoist her up. “How was your day?”

Steve had taken to tutoring Abbey after class most days. He had originally offered under the guise that she was falling behind some of the other kids, and while that may be true, you suspect that he really offered because he noticed how guilty you’d been recently for being late picking Abbey up from school. Your job has been keeping you past three, despite having told them repeatedly that you have to clock out by two. You can’t afford to lose said job– rendering you both effectively homeless– and embarrassingly enough, Steve knows this.

“Good!” she wriggles out of your arms, not too partial for physical affection these days, “I was showing Mr. H my dance for the recital!”

“Is that so?” You ask, amused.

“Yes, but Mr. H is not very good at dancing–” she makes a pitiful face that she unsuccessfully hides from Steve.

“--Hey!” Steve laughs, “I think I’m pretty good!” Trying to sound confident but faltering, it elicits a boisterous laugh from you.

“Show us your moves then, Harrington,”

“Fine,” he huffs defiantly and hilariously contorts himself into what he thinks is a correct position for a pirouette. He balances on one foot– the other one tucked clumsily into his knee– and brings his arms up and over his head like one of those spinning jewelry box ballerinas.

“No, that’s really good. You should keep going,” you try to trap your giggling between your teeth, but Abbey doesn’t spare him such mercy, as she is literally doubled over in a fit of laughter watching him.

“Jerks!” He stops his sorry excuse for a twirl long enough to take in the sight of Abbey, who’s still cackling so much she doesn’t even notice he’s done with this antics. A knowing, affectionate glance is shared between you two at the sight of her.

“Whaddya think, Ab? Am I ready for the big stage?” He motions towards himself flamboyantly– striking a pose with his hands on his hips. Not sensing his sarcasm, she exclaims, “No!” incredulously through her gasping, trying to catch her breath. You imagine this isn’t the first instance of this happening today.

“I guess I’ll leave the dancing up to you then, huh?”

Suddenly, her expression erupts with a look of joy that only comes from a great epiphany,

“Can you come to my recital?!”

–

“Mommy that hurts!” Abbey whines from where she’s seated on the bathroom counter.

“Just a few more minutes and then we’ll be done, I promise.”

Trying to tame her unruly curls into a slicked and gelled ballerina bun was proving to be more challenging than you originally thought. Her dance teacher's instructions were very clear, however– the hair must be in a bun, accompanied by the most ridiculous amount of blush you’ve ever seen on a child, so that she doesn’t look pale under the stage lights.

One entire bottle of hair gel and several broken hair ties later, the updo is as neat as you can possibly manage, “Alright, girl, you’re all set. Let’s go get your costume on, yeah?”

She nods as you assist her off the counter and onto the tiled bathroom floor. She books it to her room and you follow suit, but when you look in her closet where you could’ve sworn you left her costume– it's nowhere to be seen.

“Abbey… where’s your costume?” You ask through a tight lipped smile, suspecting you know exactly what happened to it.

“I don’t know…” she answers mousily.

“Were you using it to play dress-up?”

She breaks instantly– her guilty conscience making it impossible for her to lie to you for very long, “Yes but!--”

“--Abbey!”

“I put it right back where I found it!”

You take a deep, grounding breath before you truly start to overreact, “Well obviously not, Ab. Just help me look for it, okay?”

Twenty excruciating minutes later, you’re sweating and on your hands and knees tearing through your daughter’s closet; the mess you’re making is a problem for your future self. Every item of clothing starts to look exactly the same– just an amalgamation of pink and glitter and blinding sequins.

“I found it, mommy!” Abbey yells triumphantly from the hallway as she sprints into her room– beaming and holding the tutu like it's a gold medal.

“Yes!” You gasp with relief and haphazardly crawl in her direction, suddenly thankful that no one else can witness you in such a state, “Hurry, let’s put it on.”

You slip the sparkly red and green costume on her as quickly as possible without damaging the bun you just spent at least an hour on. She does a little twirl, grinning ear to ear, “I feel like a princess!” She exclaims.

In the car, you struggle to buckle her seatbelt over her frilly tutu. After a little finessing, you figure it’ll be fine for the drive up the road to the local high school where the recital is being hosted in their auditorium.

–

In the lobby, you’re looking as disheveled as you feel. Abbey held one of your arms, and in the other you carried a small duffle bag full of extra hair products and a spare set of tights. She’s bouncing with nerves beside you, and asking you for at least the fifth time in ten minutes, ‘Where’s Mr. H?’

“I’m sure he’s here, Ab, we just have to find him,” you reassure her again, anxiously chewing the inside of your cheek as you scan the room for a perfectly manicured head of chestnut colored hair.

And as if he’s got some powerful sixth sense for knowing when he’s needed, you spot him timidly entering the double doors, dodging stray children and looking a little out of place. He holds a small bouquet of red roses that match the shade of his cheeks and nose– tinted red from the biting chill of early December winds.

“Steve!” You call from where you and Abbey stand near the makeshift dressing rooms– waving frantically to get his attention for your daughter's sake just as much as your own, “Over here!”

A look of recognition and then relief passes over his features when he identifies where his name is being called from, and slowly but surely starts to make his way over to you both. If he was just smiling before, he was positively beaming when he caught the sight of Abbey for the first time. His strides increase in length to catch up to you faster.

“Abbey! Look at you!” He compliments, and suddenly she’s all bashful. The man she looks up to almost as much as her own mother is here to see her perform for the first time, with a bouquet of flowers and an unrelenting grin plastered on his face. The sight does nothing to extinguish the steadily growing fire that’s made a home in the pit of your chest the past four months.

She shyly eyes the flowers in his hands– the bouquet almost the length of her own torso, “I brought these for you,” he extends them out for her and she accepts them timidly, swaying on her feet like she can’t stand to be still, “Thank you,” she all but whispers.

“Of course,” he squeezes her little hand as he straightens back to his full height. He directs his attention to you, “How are you? Did everything go alright?” Now you’re sure you look as frazzled as you feel.

“We had a mishap or two, but nothing we can’t handle. Right, Ab?” She’s not paying the slightest bit of attention– too busy observing the older kids as they mingle in front of the auditorium with their friends, “I’ll tell you about it later,” you give him a lopsided grin.

“Yeah, okay,” he nods, “when does the show start?”

Checking your watch, you reply, “Just a few minutes. I’m going to drop her off backstage, stay here.” He gives a two finger salute and you recapture Abbey’s focus enough to guide her down the hall where dozens of other dancers in identical costumes were congregating.

You kneel down to her eye level, “I’m so proud of you, you’re going to be amazing,” gently pinching her blushing cheek for emphasis, “Mr. H and I will be right up front, okay?”

She nods once, “Okay, momma,”

“I love you, Ab,” you give her one last squeeze before sending her off, albeit begrudgingly. You know she’s in good hands with the instructors, but lately it seems like the universe keeps finding new ways to shove in your face just how quickly she’s growing up.

When you relocate Steve, he’s standing exactly where you left him.

“You ready?” He asks as you approach.

“Mhm,” you nod and smile in response, suddenly too nervous to meet his gaze. Being around him with Abbey is one thing, but without her as a buffer, you find yourself getting increasingly jittery.

An usher hands Steve a program for the recital, which he promptly passes to you before thanking the woman. You can feel his right hand just barely hovering over your lower back with a featherlight pressure to guide you through the swarms of families attempting to enter the auditorium. You don’t think it’s even a conscious act, but the touch makes your heart– for lack of a better phrase– drop into your ass. You come to the stark realization that to the untrained eye, you must resemble two doting parents here to watch their child perform.

“Alright, where are we sitting?” He asks, breaking you out of your stupor.

“Oh–uhm,” trying and failing to speak around the dry muscle that sits in your mouth like lead, “Row C, I think,”

When you reach your assigned seats, he waits for you to go ahead of him, holding his arm out as if to say ‘ladies first’, just like he did that day on the bus. It makes you swoon just as much now as it did then. The auditorium feels sweltering.

“Hey,” he places a clammy hand on your knee when he notices you zoning again, “You okay?” Oh my God get it together, you think.

“Oh, yeah, it’s just,” you pull at the neckline of your wool sweater, “It’s a little warm in here, isn’t it?”

“A little bit, yeah. Long morning?” He asks with an empathetic wince.

“You could say that,” you chuckle breathlessly, “With her? Every morning is a long morning,”

“You can say that again,” he shares in your laughter, “keeps me on my toes, alright.”

“I don’t know where she gets it from,” you sigh introspectively, “some days I feel like she couldn’t be less like me even if she tried.”

“I beg to differ,” The way he smiles at you sets you on fire from the inside out, but the lights dim– signifying the beginning of the show– before you get the chance to ask him what he meant. It’s only then that he removes his palm from your leg, and you immediately miss the weight of it resting there.

The Nutcracker theme plays over the loudspeaker as a group of ten or so little girls perform a haphazardly put together ballet number. Almost all of them are doing something different, but with huge, toothy smiles on their faces nonetheless. Originally, putting Abbey in dance served as a way to tire her out before bedtime and give yourself a measly hour of alone time, but seeing how much effort she’s put into practicing and how much joy she takes in performing cements your decision to keep her in class.

She performs wonderfully, just as you suspected she would. Always your little perfectionist. You may be biased, but you thought she was the most elegant and beautiful little girl on that stage.

When the company takes their bows, you and Steve both shoot up at the same time to give a standing ovation. Everyone else stays seated, which would have been embarrassing if you weren’t so filled to the brim with pride for your daughter. There was simply no room in your body for any other emotion.

“Yay, Ab!”

“Let’s go, Abbey!”

You both shout simultaneously, clapping your hands ecstatically.

–

Back in the lobby, your arms are overflowing with Abbey’s things from the dressing room along with the flowers Steve brought her.

“Did you see me?!” She asks expectantly, as if you could’ve seen anyone else up there except for her.

“Of course we did!” Steve assures her quickly, “For a second I thought I was watching the real Nutcracker,”

She blushes wildly, “Really?” If you didn’t know better, you thought you could’ve seen stars reflecting in her pupils.

“Totally! You were the best one up there,” he takes his forefinger and mimics drawing an ‘X’ shape over the left side of his chest, “Cross my heart.”

Abbey tugs on the hem of your sweater you were starting to become too warm in again, “Can we still go get milkshakes?” she asks. You had forgotten all about her stage fright induced breakdown two days ago, during which you promised to get her a treat if she went through with performing.

Checking the time, you saw it was already well past eight o’clock– but what would one late bedtime hurt?

“Sure, that sounds yummy. Say goodbye to Mr. H, then we’ll go,” she barrels into his legs at full speed– her signature– and wraps her arms tightly around his knees.

“Bye, Abbey, I’ll see you on Monday, ‘kay?”

She reluctantly loosened her grip on his legs and made her way back to her designated spot next to you.

“Goodbye, Steve, thanks for coming.” You give a small wave accompanied by a tender smile.

“Thanks for having me.” He said, returning the gesture.

Feeling a little reluctant yourself, just as Steve was crossing the threshold of the double doors, you called,

“Hey, Steve?”

He turned back at the sound of your voice, looking at you over his shoulder just enough for you to admire the straight slope of his nose and the twin moles on his cheek. He was giving you that warm, anticipative smile you were beginning to grow particularly fond of.

“Yeah?”

“Would you–uhm,” Don’t get nervous now, “Would you want to join us?”

–

At Benny’s, Abbey insists on sharing a booth with Steve while you sit opposite of them on an uncomfortable, sticky vinyl chair. Steve orders a basket of fries to share and shakes for the table. Strawberry for Abbey, and chocolate for the adults.

At one point, Abbey lifts the straw from the old fashioned shake glass and attempts to spoon the whipped cream into her mouth, consequently dripping the frozen treat all over the front of her sweatshirt. You try not to fuss, even though you’re plagued with the fear that you won't be able to get the stain out of her brand new hoodie. Such is having a five-year-old, you suppose.

Steve was quick to grab the napkins at the far end of the table, surprising you with his reflexes– like he knew the mishap would occur before it actually did.

As he’s dabbing Abbey’s shirt dry, she studies his hand and asks, “Why don’t you have a wife Mr. H?”

“Abbey!--” You scold through a poorly concealed laugh. Steve barks out a shocked huff of laughter himself.

“How do you know I don’t have a wife?” He asks, looking a little dumbfounded at the suddenly intrusive line of questioning, but amused nonetheless.

“Well, mommy used to wear a ring for daddy, but you don’t wear a ring.” She observes, “Aren’t grownups supposed to be married?”

“Ab–” You grow quickly embarrassed by your child’s lack of a filter and social cues. Again, such is having a five-year-old.

“No, that’s okay,” Steve chuckles, only slightly reassuring you, “I guess I–” he contemplates, choosing his words carefully, “I just haven’t met anyone I want to marry yet,” the only thing giving you solace is the knowledge that he probably deals with children asking him much, much more embarrassing questions, all day long.

“Oh,” Abbey says, doing some of her own contemplation, “that’s okay, Mr. H,” she comforts, like a little therapist, patting his back twice before refocusing her attention back on her milkshake.

You send Steve a look across the table, trying your hardest to convey ‘I’m so sorry my child says the shit she says, forgive me?’ with just your expression. He seems to understand what you’re attempting to get across, because he simply shakes his head and smiles like he’s trying to tell you ‘I spend everyday with her, I get it. Don’t worry about it.’

You spend the next half hour or so swapping your funniest workplace stories with each other.

“So then, we’re in the middle of a quiz right? This kid, he just–” he motions with his hands near his mouth, “projectile vomits all over the desk and the kid sitting in front of him,”

“Oh…” you wince with second-hand disgust, “that’s brutal,”

“I know!” he laughs, “I literally had to evacuate the entire classroom,”

“I feel like I remember Abbey telling me about that, actually,”

At the mention of her, he glances to his side, “Speaking of,” he chuckles.

You follow his eyes to find Abbey slumped over into Steve’s side– completely dead to the world. You can tell she’s asleep by the rhythmic rise and fall of her breathing.

Steve carefully fishes a twenty dollar bill out of his jeans pocket– careful not to disturb her– and places it on the table underneath a sweaty glass that at one point contained a diet coke.

“Oh, no you don’t have to–” you say, reaching for the bill when he delicately grabs your wrist to stop you from trying to shove it back towards him. His palms are much softer than you anticipated, and the sudden movement of his arm sends a wave of his scent straight up your nose– nearly suffocating you. What a lovely way to go, you think.

“Hey, it’s okay. I want to,” he reassures you as he pushes your hand he’s still holding back in your direction. You oblige him, only because you don’t have the energy for a chivalry competition. You make a promise to yourself that if you’re ever fortunate enough to do this with him again, that you’ll foot the bill.

When you try to gently shake Abbey awake, he stops you again, “I got it,” he says, as he hoists Abbey up and carries her bridal style out of the diner and to your little sedan; you wish the waitress a good night as you exit. It’s a dark night outside, no moon or stars to be observed. The navy velvet of the sky is completely blanketed by heavy clouds. It’ll probably snow soon.

You open the rear passenger side door for Steve as he sets Abbey in her seat and fumbles a little bit with the seat belt mechanism. As he’s ducking back out, he rises just a second too early and rams his head on the top of the car with a harsh ‘THWACK!’ You try to stifle a surprised laugh behind the back of your hand as he groans and shuts the door as softly as he can.

“Oh my God, are you okay?!” You take a step closer to him as he scratches at the back of his usually perfectly coiffed locks, having lost its usual volume.

“Don’t laugh!” He playfully scolds.

“You’re laughing!” you quickly retort.

“Because you’re laughing!”

Once you’ve calmed a bit– reduced to just quiet giggling– you ask, “Can I look?” With that, he turns to give you a better look at the back of his head.

From this angle, you can unabashedly blush and grin at him and not have to worry about him seeing you. You relish in it for as long as possible, as well as the excuse to touch him, even for a moment.

“How do I look, doc? Am I gonna make it?” He says with a faux grim tone to his voice.

“Well, I’m just the receptionist– but you’re not bleeding, no cracks or contusions, either. I think you’ll be alright,”

You grin when he turns back around to face you again, this time with less space separating you, accounting for how closely you were inspecting his head. You stay like that for a moment too long, giving you just enough time to count the freckles spattered across the bridge of his nose like constellations lacking in the sky above you, and how his lashes kiss at the corner of his eyes.

He harshly clears his throat– a nervous habit, you’ve noticed– and looks down at the pavement where you stand, inches from each other.

“I’d better let you get her home, it’s getting late,”

“No yeah– definitely uhm…” you struggle to find your words again, “I’ll see you Monday?”

“Yeah,” he smiles fondly, “Oh, I uh– I wanted to give you this,” from out of his coat pocket, he pulls a crumpled piece of paper and hands it to you. It must’ve been in his pocket for at least a few hours, maybe even a few days– the ink smudged like he’d been nervously fidgeting with it before he gave it to you.

It was his phone number.

“You know, in case you ever–” he clears his throat again, “in case you ever need anything, or there’s an emergency, or something…” he trails off at the end of his thought like he’s completely regretting the gesture and already trying to figure out a way to back track, but before he can get the chance, you embrace him in a grateful hug.

“Thanks, Steve,” you say, slightly muffled by the hood of his coat, “I really appreciate everything you do for Abbey,”

He doesn’t mention how he gave the number of his landline to you in case you ever needed anything, he just takes the win for what it is. You have his phone number, and you’re hugging him. The perfect floral scent of your shampoo and whatever perfume you’re wearing flood his senses, and he immediately misses your touch when you pull away.

“Mommy?” Abbey croaks tiredly from the backseat, “Are we going home?”

“Yes, baby, one second,” you smile apologetically at Steve for what feels like the hundredth time tonight, “I’m gonna get her to bed.”

“Of course, go,” he says as he ushers you around to the driver's side door. As much as he craves to, he doesn’t open it for you. Maybe another time, he thinks.

“Goodnight, Steve.” You say before you pull the door closed.

“Goodnight, drive safe,” he aims his sights for the backseat, “Goodnight, Ab. You did awesome today,”

“Bye, Mr. H,” she waves, eyelids heavy with the exhaustion of being everyone’s favorite five-year-old all day.

Steve waits until you’ve pulled out of the parking lot, hands shoved tightly into his jeans pockets, before walking to his own car across the parking lot.

–

About halfway home and in between bouts of nodding off, Abbey asks quietly from the backseat, “Can Mr. H be like daddy?”

Startled and slightly confused by the nature of her question, you lock eyes with her through the rearview mirror, “What?”

Even though you fully heard her the first time, she reiterates, “I mean like, because we don’t have a daddy anymore,” she pauses– thinking, “maybe he could come live with us?”

“Oh, I don’t know, baby. It doesn’t always work like that, you know?” It breaks your heart to break hers.

“But–” she pouts in that adorable way that she does when she’s trying to lure you into giving her something she wants. Though this time, you can’t tell if it’s genuine or not. “He said he doesn’t have a wife!”

You can tell she’s too tired to have a productive discussion about this, and frankly– you have not a single idea of how to approach this subject, “Tell you what– how about we talk about it tomorrow when you wake up, yeah?” You try to reason, but secretly hoping she��s too drowsy to remember this conversation in the morning.

Mid-yawn she responds, “Okay…” clearly losing her battle with the hypnotic hum of the engine lulling her softly back to sleep.

–

At well past eleven o’clock, you find yourself sinking into the cushions of your thrifted sofa, staring at the faded piece of paper with Steve’s phone number scrawled on it so hard you thought it might burst into flames and disintegrate.

The drone of black and white reruns playing on the television was your only reprieve from the rushing spiral of your rumination, as you fought the urge to call Steve and ask what counted as ‘an emergency or…something.’

You wondered, against your better judgement, what you’d be interrupting if you gave into your temptation. You wonder if he, too, is lying restless somewhere in his house just like you were– if he has someone there to keep him company, and maybe you’d gotten this all wrong. You wonder if his walls are filled to the brim with photos of his life before Maine, and what brought him here in the first place. You wonder if he sleeps with the fan on or off.

You wonder if you should even be feeling this way at all.

But somewhere, in a mostly empty house on Ashburton street, Steve is staring at the white expanse of his popcorn ceiling of his bedroom pondering identical thoughts about you.

divider by @/saradika-graphics @borhapparker @alexa4040 @chiliwhore @weonlysaidgoodbyewithwordss @paddockspookie42 @foxes-n-frogs @tv-girllover07 @micheledawn1975 @cherryc1nnam0n @paleidiot @adaydreamaway30 @twinkling-moonlillie @royalestrellas @jamdoughnutmagician @cali-888 @kolsmikaelson @soulxiez @sadieshairbrush @the-witty-pen-name @ilovetaquitosmmmm @mrsnarnian

512 notes · View notes

supernovafics · 2 months ago

Text

𝐅𝐎𝐑 𝐁𝐄𝐓𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐎𝐑 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐒𝐄

"i'll be there for you" universe masterlist

pairing: bestfriend!roommate!steve harrington x fem!reader

word count: 4.9k words

warnings: explicit language, a bit of angst (bc of some family drama), lots of fluff, smut (18+), unprotected piv sex, tiny hint of praise kink

summary: in which a family wedding makes you think about the future

author's note: i love when i randomly get hit with inspiration for this universe<33

general note: everything in this universe/series can be read as standalone oneshots but to understand the full “lore” it would prob be best to read the other stuff too<333

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

Summer 1986

You had been trying to stay on your parents’ good side. They hadn’t been pestering you a lot about your future— specifically college and transferring to the University of Chicago, where they had wanted you to go since you were a kid— and you wanted to keep it that way. And if that meant going to a family wedding in Illinois, then so be it.

The only bearable part about it was that Steve was coming too, and it had taken absolutely no bribing to get him to say yes.

“Is this my girlfriend privilege coming into play?” You asked him as you two sat on the couch in your apartment’s living room. “Because I swear if we were still just friends you would at least force me to do all of the driving or something.”

Steve gave you an amused smile. “Do you want me to make you do all of the driving?”

“Nope, not at all,” You shook your head. “So, actually, I’m gonna stop talking now.”

Steve laughed a little and you focused your attention back on the random sitcom playing on the TV, a small smile on your face.

“Do you think Dustin will wanna babysit Harold again?” Steve asked as he mindlessly reached out to grab your hand that was buried under the blanket draped over your laps and intertwined it with his.

“Oh, yeah, definitely,” You answered with a nod, taking a look over at the brown and white hamster’s cage that was sitting on the low shelf you two had next to the TV. “Honestly, I think he’s starting to like Harold more than us.”

“I’m pretty sure that happened right when we got him.”

“Shit, you’re right,” You said as you shifted a bit and wrapped Steve’s arm around you so that you were nuzzled more comfortably in his side and then intertwined your hands once again. “I actually feel kinda offended about that. Just so you know, I love you and Harold equally.”

“Equally?” Steve said, sounding playfully shocked. “I’ve known you for basically ten years.”

“Yeah, but Harold’s our son, so…” You shrugged, trying to contain your growing smile.

“Okay, I guess I’ll share the number one spot, then,” He responded as he pressed a kiss to the side of your head.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

The four-hour drive to the town just out of Chicago where the majority of your family lived wasn’t terrible. You and Steve evenly split the driving time and spent most of it playing silly games; mainly the license plate game because it was a car ride staple, and also a game where you two had to try and think of the same word and say it at the same time, and you two were eerily good at it.

By the time you made it to the hotel that all of the out-of-town family members were staying at because of how close it was to the wedding venue, it was the middle of the night. Even though Steve didn’t have to work today— he took off the entire weekend, actually— you two still decided to leave later in the day because you wanted to avoid as much unnecessary time with your parents as possible.

Unsurprisingly, you and Steve were the only people checking in at ten o’clock at night.

“So, it looks like there are two rooms in the reservation,” The lady at the front desk told you; her name tag said Joan. “One under your name, and one under Steve Harrington.”

“Oh,” You said and then nodded after a second. “Um, okay.”

Joan seemed to take note of your slightly confused tone. “Did you not book two rooms?”

“My parents handled all of this, so I guess they did the two rooms.”

She nodded at your words. “I’m gonna go grab the room keys and I’ll be right back.”

She headed off to what you assumed was the back room and you turned to look at Steve who was standing right next to you.

He let out a quiet laugh as his arm slipped around your waist. “Did your parents forget that we live together and that we've been dating for the last five months?”

“They probably think we still sleep in our own bedrooms,” You said, leaning into his touch and realizing just how tired you were.

You truly couldn’t remember the last time you slept alone in the past few months since you and Steve got together, and even before that, you both had spent a lot of time in each other’s beds. It probably would’ve made sense for you two to downsize to a one-bedroom place, but you both loved the apartment so much that you couldn’t imagine living anywhere else.

“Should I pretend that I’m actually staying in the other room?” Steve asked and you quickly nodded.

“Yeah, just in case.”

“Bad idea that we decided to share a suitcase then, huh?”

When you came up with it, it seemed like the perfect idea for the quick weekend trip. Why bring two separate suitcases that would probably be half empty, instead of just sharing one?

You sighed now as you took a look at the black suitcase that Steve was holding the handle of. “Very bad idea.”

Joan returned a moment later. “So, good news, the rooms are right next to each other, and they’re actually connecting, so you two won’t have to be too far from each other.”

“That’s great,” You said, grabbing one of the keys from her outstretched hand, and Steve grabbed the other. “Thank you so much.”

She smiled at you both. “I hope you two enjoy your stay.”

You and Steve said another quick “Thanks” before heading toward the elevators.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

“Your room is so much nicer than mine,” You said as you slumped back onto Steve’s bed, head quickly finding the pillow that was actually so soft.

“Do you wanna switch?” He asked from where he stood by the suitcase, pulling on a fresh t-shirt for the night.

The door that connected your rooms was wide open and it would probably stay that way for the entire night.

“No, it’s fine, I’ll deal with my shitty shower pressure and lumpy bed.”

“You can stay in here with me tonight, y’know,” He told you, moving closer and maneuvering so that he was settled on top of you. It was a comfortable position, even though it probably shouldn’t have been. The way your bodies molded so easily for each other always felt like two pieces of a puzzle coming together.

You smiled under his gaze. “Thank you for the formal invitation.”

He nodded thoughtfully. “Of course, no problem. I wanna be a gentleman.”

You couldn’t help but laugh a little at his words that were said very seriously, but you knew they were anything but.

You could’ve easily fallen asleep just like that if you wanted to, with his warm body pressed so comfortably against yours, pretty much equivalent to a weighted blanket. And it would’ve made sense to fall asleep after the long drive you two had to endure, but you really didn’t want to.

His head dipped down and yours tilted upward, allowing you two to meet halfway in the softest kiss.

There was something about kissing Steve that always felt so nostalgic, and also the complete opposite. Even five months into everything, there was still a newness to being with Steve in this way that you’d probably never get fully used to. Every time felt like the first one, but there was also so much comfort that had been there from the beginning and it only continued to grow.

After a moment that you considered way too short, he pulled away from your lips and his mouth started immediately trailing along the underside of your jaw and then down to your neck.

You let out the softest hum as you shifted underneath him, searching for any sort of extra friction. Steve’s low groan was the first thing you heard when you brushed against his hardness and you wished that you could pull off the few layers that separated the two of you in one quick movement.

“You still tired?” He mumbled against your neck.

“Yes, but I also really want you right now,” You whispered back as you threaded your fingers through his hair, which was slightly damp from the shower he just took. The only pro about not sharing a room was that you both got your own bathroom, even if the water pressure in yours sucked.

“Yeah?” He asked as he pulled back a bit to look at you. His voice was teasing, playful, but you also knew how much he loved the reassurance too.

“Yeah,” You nodded immediately. “Please.”

There was the sweetest smile on his face as his fingers found the bottom of your t-shirt and proceeded to pull the fabric up and off of you.

You had opted against putting on a bra after your shower, so your chest was left bare for him once your t-shirt was off and he was groaning at the sight.

“You’re so fucking pretty,” He whispered as the pad of his thumb brushed against your already hard nipple.

For the briefest moment, your eyes slipped shut and you bit your lip to hold back your moan, and then you were meeting his gaze again.

“You’re really pretty too, Stevie,” You said, smiling up at him as you reached up to softly poke his cheek.

He laughed a little and turned his head a little so that he was kissing your poking finger. “Thank you. You’re so nice.”

Your shoulders upturned in the most nonchalant shrug, but the same smile was on your face; you were always the one to bring a bit of silliness into moments like these. “I try.”

Steve was smiling back at you as he gave your nipple a quick squeeze and then his hands moved down your sides and settled at the waistband of your pajama bottoms. He pulled your shorts and underwear off in one motion and tossed them to the floor somewhere along with your shirt.

He kissed from your collarbone down to your belly button, stopping and teasing different spots along the way which made you squirm beneath him and you could feel yourself dripping onto the blanket below you with every teasing press of his mouth. He moved lower and lower, and then deliberately skipped past where you needed him to be. Instead, he started kissing your inner thighs.

Your fingers carded through his hair as you looked down at him. “You’re being very evil right now.”

“I’m sorry,” He told you, but you knew that he really wasn’t. He spread your legs further and pressed the most featherlight kiss against your clit before looking up at you again. “What do you want?”

There were a lot of things you could’ve said in answer— in that moment, you were craving his fingers and his mouth too— but after the exhaustingly long drive, you simply just wanted to be as close to him as possible as quickly as possible.

“Honestly, I really need you inside me,” You told him softly, hand moving from his hair to his cheek. “I need your cock. Please. Is that okay?”

He let out a contented groan at your honesty, head falling against the side of your thigh. “Fuck, yeah, of course that’s okay.”

Steve moved away from you then, his warmth leaving your body as he pulled back to look at you. The juxtaposition of you being naked right then and him still being completely clothed, made you pout at him.

“Well, this is very unfair,” You said, reaching out to grab at his shirt.

Steve was smiling as he leaned in to press a quick kiss against your lips. “I knew you were going to say that.”

Before you could playfully complain any further, he pulled his shirt off and your fingers quickly moved to the waistband of his sweatpants. He let you pull them down along with his boxers, revealing his hard cock that you bit your lip at the sight of, and then Steve did the rest of the work of pulling them off his legs and tossing them somewhere to the side.

When his body was once again on top of yours, his warmth enveloping you completely, he didn’t hesitate to push inside of you, your wetness making it easy for him to fill you to the hilt.

Steve’s thrusts were languid and slow, both of you simply craved the feeling of each other rather than anything else. His lips found yours in the most searing kiss that was so different from his unhurried movements above you. It was a messy clash of tongues and teeth and one of your hands came up to tangle itself in his hair.

You broke the kiss when a particularly rough stir of his hips made him push deeper inside of you and you gasped. “Shit, yes, Steve, right there.”

He hit that specific spot again and again and you were moaning louder each time, not worried about how thin the walls maybe were in this hotel. “You sound so pretty screaming for me, honey. You’re so fucking good.”

You nodded profusely, trying to keep your eyes on his, but it was too hard not to let them slip shut with every perfect snap of his hips. “Only for you.”

It didn’t take long for both of you to reach your ends— it was his thumb on your clit that triggered your orgasm, and it was the feeling of your walls clenching around him as you came that sent Steve over the edge too, pressing his face into your neck.

A quiet stillness took over as your racing hearts returned to normal and a deeper tiredness took over and made your eyelids feel heavy.

After you weren’t sure how long, Steve started to shift so that he could move off of you, but you stopped him with a hand on his back before his softening cock could slip out of you and told him that you wanted to stay like this for a bit longer. He didn’t protest your words and instead buried his face back in your neck, pressing the sweetest kiss against your pulse point. You two slowly fell asleep just like that for the time being, too spent and exhausted to make any other movements.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

If it weren’t for the incessant sound of someone knocking on the door, you were certain that you would’ve slept for a few more hours.

The sound woke you up slowly and then all at once. Your eyes opened and you got the urge to pull the blanket over your head. You weren’t even sure when exactly that had happened, but at some point, you and Steve finally made it under the covers and you had also grabbed his t-shirt and slipped it on too.

You ultimately didn’t pull the blanket over your head to muffle the noise. Instead, you pulled it off of you when you realized that the knocking was coming from your room.

“Shit.”

The door that connected your and Steve’s rooms was still open and you were suddenly so certain that the knocks you were hearing were being rapped against your room door.

“What’s wrong?” Steve asked when he felt you get out of bed. He tiredly rubbed his eyes; you, on the other hand, were suddenly the complete opposite of tired.

“I’m pretty sure my mom’s right outside my door. Or my dad. Or both,” You answered him as you quickly searched for your underwear and pajama shorts and found them in different random spots on the floor. “It’s probably both of them, actually, and I’ve had no time to mentally prepare for whatever this conversation is about to be.”

“I can go answer it, if you want,” You heard Steve suggest as you hastily pulled on your bottoms.

“I think it would be better if we kept the illusion up that we don’t sleep together,” You told him. “I’m gonna go see what they want and I’ll be back in a sec.”

You rushed over to where he was now sitting up in the bed and pressed the quickest kiss against his lips before heading over to your room and pulling the door that connected your room to Steve’s shut.

You ruffled up the untouched bed so it looked like you actually slept in it last night and then went to open the door before another series of knocks were rapped against it.

“Hi, good morning, sorry,” You rushed out. It was only your mom standing in front of you, and right then it was hard to tell if that was a good thing or a bad thing. “The bed’s so comfortable, it was hard to wake up.”

She nodded at your words. “The bed in your dad and I’s room is terrible, we’re gonna try to switch to a different room tonight. Anyway, what time did you and Steve make it here last night?”

“It was a little after ten.”

“And how was the drive?”

“Good,” You answered simply. “Me and Steve split the time so that made it easier.”

“That’s good,” She smiled. “Do you know if he’s still sleeping?”

“Um, yeah, he probably is,” You shrugged through your lie. “He’s right next door, but I haven’t seen him since last night.”

“Okay, well, your dad and I are going to have breakfast downstairs in an hour with your Aunt Tracy and Uncle Sean, you and Steve should come too.”

Her words sounded like a suggestion, but you knew that they were actually the opposite.

You forced a smile. “Oh, okay, we’ll definitely meet you guys down there. I’ll go wake him up now.”

“Okay, great,” Your mom smiled back at you. “See you two then.”

You closed the door when she started walking away and headed back to Steve’s room.

“So, what happened?” He asked as you climbed back into bed.

You settled next to him and rested your head against his bare shoulder. “We’re having breakfast downstairs with my parents, and my aunt and uncle in an hour.”

Steve nodded at your statement. “Honestly, that sounds good. The last time we ate was right before we got here last night and it was shitty McDonald’s.”

“Yeah, those were the saddest burgers ever,” You said with a sigh.

“Wait, which aunt is gonna be there?” Steve abruptly asked. “The nice one or the one that hates me?”

You laughed a little. “The nice one. But, I feel like I should remind you again that Cheryl does not hate you.”

“You don’t remember that party the way I do,” He said and you couldn’t help but roll your eyes at his seriousness.

It had been a birthday party for your mom a few years back. Of course, Steve and his parents were there, and you and him spent most of the night camping out in your room, away from your mom’s friends and your overbearing family members. It had been your idea to sneak a bottle of wine from the kitchen and bring it to your room, but Steve was the one who actually went and did it. Or at least attempted to before he got caught by your aunt and, according to him, was harshly scolded by her.

“I’ve seen her a bunch of times since that party and I promise you she doesn’t think you’re a bad influence on me or whatever,” You told Steve, lifting your head from his shoulder to press a kiss against his cheek. “And she definitely doesn’t hate you.”

“We’ll see what happens at the wedding later.”

You leaned in to whisper into his ear. “Don’t worry, if she does hate you, I’ll defend you from any and all shitty comments.”

He gave you an amused smile when you pulled back to look at him. “Thank you, that’s all I ask. You’re the best girlfriend ever.”

You smiled at him as you leaned your head back on his shoulder and closed your eyes, attempting to get a little more sleep before you’d have to force yourself out of bed again.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

Steve was right and he didn’t hesitate to whisper an “I told you” in your ear seconds after your Aunt Cheryl gave a warm greeting to you and the coldest hello to him.

You didn’t have time to respond to Steve’s whispered words because you two were being told by one of the ushers to find seats since the wedding was minutes away from starting. The weather was pretty much perfect; warm but not so much so that it made sitting outside entirely unbearable, which was a little surprising for the middle of August but you weren’t complaining.

Steve was on one side of you and your parents were on the other, and you smiled in thanks when your mom complimented the dress you were wearing; the long pale pink floral dress that you bought only because you knew she would like it, and you had wanted to avoid her saying anything bad about your clothing choices like she usually did.

About halfway through the ceremony, Steve’s hand found yours, and the simple action made you suddenly feel warm all over. You shouldn’t have felt so fazed by it— that was something that had happened practically a million times before— but the current circumstances made it feel a little different.

Samantha was one of your cousins that you weren’t that close with— you remembered going to the sleepover for her fifth birthday party and that was one of the last times you two hung out before you and your family moved to Indiana, and then you only saw her during random family occasions— but she looked beautiful and seemed so genuinely happy that it was hard not to feel a little emotional; it was what weddings did to people.

You tried to listen to the vows and everything else being said right then, but it was hard to fully focus when all you could think about was a future that would someday involve this with Steve, and how nice that sounded.

Maybe Steve could suddenly read your mind or the subtle smile on your face, but either way, he was giving your hand a light squeeze, as if telling you that he agreed with everything you were thinking about.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

To probably no one’s surprise, you and Steve stayed attached at the hip throughout the majority of the night. Your hand was always laced in his or his was placed at the small of your back.

You were grateful for that closeness and you were especially grateful for him because he made it a thousand times easier to deal with family members that you hadn’t seen in forever and the forced small talk that came along with that estrangement.

It quickly became a revolving door of the same topics and questions— how was graduating last year, how is college going now, what are your future plans, etc, etc— and you thought you’d be able to put up with it for the entire night. However, there were only so many times you could say, “Fine,” “Good,” and “I’m still figuring it out” before it became too annoying.

Therefore, the second the brief conversation with one of your uncles came to an end, your hand found Steve’s and you led him out of the big ballroom where the reception was happening. He didn’t question your current antics and you two ended up outside moments later— it was much cooler out now, but still comfortable— and you headed toward a little garden area with a bench that you had noticed earlier.

“Let’s just sit here for a bit,” You said to Steve, not explaining the why behind you wanting to do this right now, but you didn’t have to.

He nodded, understanding just how exhausting this entire day had been for you, and sat down with you. Things fell into a comfortable quiet, the first silence all night, and you reveled in it. You shifted around after a few moments so your head was in his lap and your legs dangled off the side of the bench.

“Do you wanna leave? I think we’ve been here for a reasonable amount of time,” Steve said, breaking the quiet after a few minutes of you simply holding his hand and looking at all of the flowers in the garden. “We can go to that Dairy Queen we saw when we were driving here last night, if you want. I think it’s only like ten minutes away.”

You knew what he was trying to do— make things light in any way that he could, and in this case, it meant offering up ice cream— and once again you were reminded of just how fucking grateful you were to have him here with you in this moment.

“I love you,” You said instead of answering his question. “Like, a lot, a lot, a lot.”

You immediately noticed the smile spread across his face as he looked down at you. “Hm, you’re not drunk right now, so where is this sappiness coming from?”

“Shh, don’t question it. Just let me get disgustingly cheesy with you right now, Harrington.”

“Okay, sorry, continue,” He told you, but then he abruptly kept going before you could start talking. “And I love you too, by the way.”

You smiled up at him. “Aside from all of the family stuff I had to deal with today, this wedding was actually really nice and it made me think about you and us a lot.”

“In a good way or a bad way?” He was so obviously teasing you because you were certain that he knew the answer to his own question.

You shook your head at him. “I don’t even want to dignify that insane question with a response.”

He laughed a bit as he pulled your intertwined hands up and pressed a soft kiss to the back of yours, and it was hard not to smile at the action.

“This entire day made me realize that when we eventually, one day down the road, do this, I don’t want it to be anything like this,” You told him.

“What do you mean?”

“I don’t want all of this huge fanfare and I don’t want a bunch of people that I don’t ever talk to, to be there either. If we just have the kids, and Robin and Eddie, and Nancy and Jonathan too. Oh, and Harold, of course. That’s more than enough for me. Is that okay? Does that even make sense?” You looked up at him to see if he understood what you meant, and of course he did. He always did.

Steve nodded immediately. “That sounds perfect, honestly.”

“I know that probably won’t be able to happen because of how involved our moms are gonna want to be with everything, but I just think the thought is nice,” You said with a halfhearted shrug.

“We can do a small thing with just everyone that we want to be there and then let our moms take the reins on the huge fancy thing that they’ll force us to do.”

“God, you’re so smart,” You said and you wanted to sit up so that you could kiss him— you’d been craving it all night, actually— but you felt too comfortable to move right then. “So, is this a proposal, Steven?”

You were the one doing the teasing now, a smile playing on your lips as you looked up at him and he looked down and met your eyes again.

He shook his head as he smiled at you. “Give me some time to plan the most elaborate one ever.”

“Take all the time you need,” You told him, and you genuinely meant that. In your eyes, there wasn’t any rush to get to that place. Even though you loved talking about the future with him, you didn't feel the need to make it happen before it was meant to. You two were already happy and in love and you felt so certain that that would never change, so you felt content being in this place with him. “Thank you again for coming with me to this, by the way.”

He lightly poked your side, making you let out the quietest breath of a laugh, before speaking. “You know I’d never say no to you.”

“Aw, I love it when you also get sappy with me,” You sat up then and finally leaned in to slot your lips against his. You hummed in contentment the second he eagerly reciprocated the kiss and your hand instinctually moved to the nape of his neck as you pushed yourself closer to him.

You savored the moment for as long as you could before you had to pull away to take a breath. “Okay, now let’s get out of here and get ice cream.”

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

let me know ur thoughts<333

(requests are open for stuff you wanna see in the universe/series!🫶🏾)

#steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x fem!reader #steve harrington smut #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington fic #steve harrington x you #steve harrington series #stranger things imagine

419 notes · View notes

loveshotzz · 1 year ago

Text

I guess it’s never really over

mechanic!steve harrington x fem!reader exes to lovers

summary: Convinced by your best friend to return to Hawkins for the summer, nothing is like how you left it five years ago, including the boy you’ve done nothing but try and forget.

warnings: 18+ for smut, each chapter will have their own warnings, exes to lovers, drinking, smoking, angst/hurt, comfort, late/80’s early 90’s, no upside down, Robin is your best friend and Steve’s too 🙄, also featuring mechanic!eddie.

📻 series playlist

Late arrivals and big asks

I might kill my ex, not the best idea

This has got to be the longest crush ever

Honey, on your knees when you look at me

Kissin’ and I hope they caught us - coming soon 🌻

You could do damage

Slow dance these summer nights

Just because it’s over doesn’t mean it’s really over

#steve harrington #steve harrington smut #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington fanfiction #steve harrington series #steve harrington angst #steve harrington x reader smut

2K notes · View notes

superblysubpar · 11 months ago

Text

Baby, I Can't Fight This Feeling

co-worker steve harrington x fem reader | enemies to lovers

A childhood (or maybe just downright childish) rivalry that began for reasons neither of you knew still rages between your co-worker, Steve Harrington, and yourself as adults.

You’ve watched the rise and fall and weird somewhat rise again of King Steve, and now, you find yourselves having to share friends, work space, and god dammit if he touches your red vines one more fucking time –

A cocky attitude leads to an immature bet between your best friend, Eddie Munson, and Steve.

One week to woo, to get her to swoon. One week to prove that Steve Harrington is back, and that his charm could work on anyone.

Even you.

key things to note - the warnings

Come Crashing Through Your Door

Can't Hold Out Forever

Getting Closer Than I Ever Thought

Cold, Dark Winter's Night

Forgotten What I Started Fighting For

I'm Following You, Girl

Afraid To Let It Show

Crawl Upon The Floor

Can't Fight This Feeling Anymore

Epilogue: You Take Me To The Places, That Alone I'd Never Find

📼 Return To Main Menu

#steve harrington #steve harrington series #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington fic #enemies to lovers #stranger things fanfiction #BICFTF #superbly subpar's writing #Spotify

1K notes · View notes

pretentious-blonde · 3 days ago

Text

spark

pairing: steve harrington x reader

summary: you accepted steve’s offer, and he smiles like it’s easy, but beneath the facade, he’s praying you don’t notice how terrifying it is to open up again

warnings: ptsd, anxiety, scars, mention of death

a/n: ANGST. steve is still a huge sweetheart as per!!

series masterlist

Steve was awake long before his alarm, as usual. Though he liked to pretend he was simply a “morning person,” he knew the real reason.

He always woke up in a cold sweat, heart racing from a nightmare he could never fully recall. It was the same vague sense of running—always running—being chased by something he never let himself name.

He reminded himself that those days were gone.

He didn’t have to run anymore.

He eased out of bed, pushing the sheets away, and moved to the small bathroom. Flicking on the light, he squinted at his reflection in the mirror. The circles beneath his eyes weren’t as dark as they used to be—a tiny victory he attributed to the combination of time, therapy, and intermittent determination.

The government had footed the bill for his sessions as well as securing him a psychiatrist, reasoning that what he’d experienced wasn’t exactly covered by regular services, nor did they want the exposure. His therapist was kind enough and understood that the horrors he experienced were a lifelong journey to recovery.

Slowly but surely, he was finding his footing again.

He’d spent years feeling dislocated from normal life. All that time battling with the fallout from the Upside Down had stolen the carefree spark of his youth, and the constant suspicion that something else might lurk around the corner left him raw.

But recently, thanks to the subtle coaxing of his therapist—and the unwavering support of friends—he’d started picturing a future that wasn’t overshadowed by the past.

He got a stable job teaching, an apartment all his own (no more living under his parents’ roof), and moments of genuine contentment. The kids in his class offered him something pure and untarnished. Something untainted. They had no idea about his history, or the scars he hid beneath his shirt, and that innocence soothed him in ways nothing else could.

He opened the cabinet, pulled out the bottle of medication his doctor had prescribed, and popped a pill into his mouth before taking a gulp of water straight from the tap. A shaky exhale followed.

Today was Sunday. Which meant he was going to see you—something that thrilled him and sent a jolt of nerves zipping along his spine. He dried his mouth on the back of his hand, thinking about how the mere idea of a date used to make him panic.

Now, he actually looked forward to it. Progress.

He called Robin the second he’d gotten home from school, practically buzzing as he told her he’d finally asked someone out. She’d laughed and teased him that “it took you long enough,” but the care in her voice said she was proud of him.

He was proud of himself too.

He had found himself gushing about you—about how you went the extra mile, how you’d insisted on giving him a discount for the kids’ sake, and how your eyes had sparkled with genuine kindness when you raised your hand in his classroom.

He’d felt his cheeks burn just remembering that moment, how you played into the lighthearted fun. There was a tenderness about you that he found himself needing, now more than ever. If anyone deserved a gentle presence in this life, it was him.

He toweled off his face and ruffled his hair, trying to decide if it was a lost cause to style it so early. The nerves fluttered in his stomach, a far cry from the petrifying dread he was used to.

This was a nervousness he welcomed—one that signalled something good might be about to happen rather then the more common alternative.

Making his way to the small wardrobe in his bedroom, he flicked through hangers, considering each shirt, each pair of jeans. He wanted to look casual, approachable… anything but intimidating. It wasn’t as if he’d strolled into your shop wearing a suit of armor, but something in him wanted you to see him as safe.

Maybe it was the teacher in him, or maybe it was the scared kid he used to be, desperate not to give anyone a reason to back away.

His fingers skimmed over a few options before he settled on a soft sweater and a pair of jeans without paint smears or frayed hems. He tugged them on, studying himself in the full-length mirror propped against the wall. The faint scars on his arms peeked out if he rolled the arms too high, and for a moment, he considered covering them.

But he thought about how you’d looked at him—like he was someone worth smiling at—and decided it was okay.

Or, maybe he'd just keep his sleeves down...

He smoothed the jumper, eradicating the wrinkles, and exhaled. As he patted his pockets—keys, wallet—he felt the steady beat of his heart. He wasn’t used to feeling this light about a date or meeting someone new. The last time he’d tried to let someone in, he’d still been carrying too much baggage. Plus, meeting someone new was normally an appointment with doctor or scientist.

But the promise of meeting you felt hopeful.

Like something he deserved.

He arrived early, stomach twisting as he slipped into the small café. The sun was bright but soft, illuminating the polished tables and the row of pastries under their glass display. He chose a seat by the large window—not for the view, not to watch the world pass by, but because he just needed to see the outside.

The habit was bone-deep, second nature after years of too many surprises, too many nights where danger came from behind, from the dark, from the unseen.

If he lied, he would say it was just preference, that he liked the open space, the way the light stretched across the table, but the truth was simpler, heavier—he still hated feeling boxed in.

He needed the open sightlines, needed the reassurance that if something—anything—happened, he’d see it coming. He wasn’t scared. Not exactly. But the fear had settled into him like muscle memory, impossible to unlearn.

Taking some calming breaths, he stirred the coffee he’d already ordered in lazy circles. There was something comforting about the swirl of cream in the dark liquid, a momentary distraction from the knot of nerves in his gut.

He glanced at his watch—still early, but not by too much. On an impulse, he waved the barista over and requested a hot chocolate “to have ready” when you arrived. He hoped you’d like it, but if not, he could claim it for himself and get you something else.

Every so often, he looked up from his mug to peer out the window. Eventually, he caught sight of you, weaving through the passers-by and pausing at the crossing. His pulse spiked.

Suddenly, he didn’t know what to do with his hands. Should he wave through the glass? That might be odd. Instead, he ducked his head, pretending to fiddle with the sugar packets on the table, as though he hadn’t just watched your every step across the street.

When the door opened, he glanced up. The sight of you, cheeks faintly flushed, made his heart do a little flip. You looked around, scanning the tables—your hair bouncing—until your eyes locked on him. As your face broke into a radiant smile, he stood so abruptly that he nearly toppled his coffee, earning a wary glance from the couple seated nearby.

“Hi,” you greeted, stepping forward as he awkwardly leaned in for a brief hug.

You seemed comfortable with him. That was a good sign.

“Hey,” he replied, breath catching in his throat.

“I hope you weren’t waiting too long?”

His face heated. If only you knew how early he’d arrived.

“Oh no,” he lied with a small shrug, “I’ve only been here a couple of minutes.”

“Well, that’s good,” you said. Your gaze drifted to the steamy mug sitting across from his coffee.

“I, uh, got you a hot chocolate,” he said, scratching at the back of his neck. He tried to sound casual, but his nerves betrayed him, and there was a boyish quality to his voice.

“Presumptuous,” you teased, lifting an eyebrow, and he immediately blushed.

“What? Everyone likes hot chocolate.” He sank into his chair.

“Careful,” you teased further. “You might be spending too much time around second graders.”

He would agree with you there.

“Well, kids are usually right about these things.” He let out a short laugh, tension easing in his shoulders. “Especially chocolate.”

With a grin, you held the mug up to your lips, taking a slow sip. The appreciative hum you made was enough to send a spark of pride through him, and he mentally checked off a little “win” in his mind.

This was already off to a good start.

You settled in your seat, and he took a moment to appreciate how easily you seemed to fit into this café’s atmosphere—warm and welcoming like the morning light.

“So,” you asked, “are the kids enjoying their new books?”

“Yeah,” he replied, eyes lighting up. “Love ‘em—kind of surprised at how careful they’re being, too. Usually, I’m taping up ripped pages by now.”

“Seems like they listen to you,” you observed, a gentle smile tugging at your lips.

“Sometimes they do.” He shrugged modestly. “Sometimes, they’ve got a mind of their own. But it’s good—keeps me on my toes.”

Your next question was casual, but he liked the genuine interest behind it.

“How long have you been teaching?”

“Few years now,” he said, gently pushing away the memories that threatened to surface. The path that had led him here hadn’t exactly been simple. “Didn’t go to college right away, and I was kind of drifting. Then I stumbled into a teacher training program, and… here I am.”

It was a more concise version of the truth—just enough to say without letting too many memories surface. Not a lie, but not the whole truth either; he wasn’t about to burden you with that.

“That’s really sweet,” you said softly, a note of sincerity in your tone.

He felt the back of his neck grow warm.

“I enjoy it,” he confessed. “I always remembered the shy kids—how people used to pick on them. Thought if I can give them a good start, maybe they won’t have to worry as much… maybe they’ll carry that with them.”

He meant every word.

He had a soft spot for the quiet kids, the ones who lacked confidence—the ones he used to overlook. Maybe lifting them up was his way of making amends, a silent apology for the way he once treated his own peers. If they could find their footing a little sooner, maybe they’d never have to deal with a kid like he used to be.

It was one of his biggest regrets, and he could only hope he was making up for it now.

Your eyes shone, and he watched the way your features softened at his explanation. The honesty in your expression made his chest tighten in the best way. He swallowed, nerves skittering again. He had to keep reminding himself not to monopolise the conversation with talk of the children, no matter how proud he was of them.

“So,” he ventured, quickly shifting gears, “are you new in Hawkins? Haven’t seen you around before.” Then his stomach lurched as your expression grew thoughtful, more pensive.

“Yeah, I inherited the bookstore,” you said, your tone gentle rather than pained. “My grandmother left it to me in her will.”

Mentally he kicked himself.

Way to go, Harrington.

“I’m—I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean—”

“It’s all right, really.” You waved away his concern with a small laugh. “I miss her, but being in that space she loved keeps me close to her, you know? It’s like she never really left.”

Relief washed over him, followed by a deeper admiration. You really were lovely, in that rare way some people are, managing to find the bright side even in the things that hurt. He wasn’t sure how you did it, brushed off something as big as death and still had room for warmth.

He yearned for that—desperately.

He felt more sure than ever that this date had been a good idea. You asked about the day-to-day with his class, and he found himself relaxed enough to share a few funny stories. There were paint smears and paper-mache disasters, random outbursts during quiet reading time, and the occasional meltdown when a pencil sharpened too short.

You giggled freely at his over-the-top reenactments, caught up in the way he threw himself into the story with his whole body. He wasn’t just telling it—he was living it, every exaggerated gesture and animated expression pulling you in.

You could picture his students, enraptured, hanging onto every word as he transformed the classroom into whatever world he wanted. He even did the voices. There was no hesitation, no self-consciousness, just him completely lost in the moment, unguarded and uninhibited, letting it take him somewhere else entirely.

He found himself almost giddy that you were humouring him, that you weren’t just listening but enjoying his retellings. Each chuckle warmed his chest, unfolding something fragile and long-dormant, finally given sunlight. It was a reassurance he hadn’t realised he needed.

He could still make someone laugh. He could still be light, still be fun, still be someone worth listening to.

Eventually, the conversation began to wind down. You glanced at your watch with a regretful sigh.

“I’d love to stay longer, but I have to get back and do some admin stuff at the shop.”

“Oh, yeah,” he murmured, unable to completely hide his disappointment. He toyed with the corner of his napkin, eyes flicking from your face to the door. “Of course, don’t wanna eat up your Sunday.”

“But,” you added softly, your own reluctance clear in your voice, “I’d really like to see you again, if you’re up for it?”

His stomach did a joyous flip.

He had done it.

“Yeah,” he breathed, trying not to sound too eager. “Absolutely—uh—I usually have weekends off, and anytime after five, really—school hours and all.”

“Do you have a pen?” you asked, casting a quick look around for one.

These days he was never without one—always needing something signed or scribbled. He rummaged in his jacket pocket, producing a slightly battered ballpoint.

“Here.”

You leaned over and wrote your number on a clean napkin, sliding it across the table.

“That’s the shop phone. I live right upstairs, so it'll reach me.”

He clutched the napkin as if it were precious—and to him it really was—heart thudding like it did the first time he’d asked you out.

“I’ll call you,” he promised, nodding a few more times than necessary.

You stood, gathering your things, and he quickly rose to his feet as well. With a self-conscious smile, he reached for your jacket, holding it open for you.

“Here—um, sorry… Force of habit.”

You slipped your arms through the sleeves, cheeks flushing.

“Oh?”

“Y’know, recess duty—same motion.” He scratched his cheek. “Sorry that’s weird.”

“Not weird at all.” You giggled, giving him a soft, rosy-cheeked grin that made his heart lurch. “...It’s sweet.”

He walked with you to the door and pushed it open. You paused for a moment on the threshold, peering over your shoulder with one last smile.

“See you later, Mr. Harrington,” you teased gently, and he rolled his eyes with a playful groan.

“See you,” he managed, still reveling in the inexplicable joy that you wanted to see him again.

And then you were off, leaving him in the light of the morning that felt warmer. He slipped back into the café, dropping into his seat with a breathless feeling in his chest. Not wanting to go home just yet, he ordered another coffee. His therapist told him it was good for him to be out of the house.

For the first time in what felt like forever, he realised he’d gone an entire hour without the memories of his past creeping in. No anxiety, no frantic heart pounding from a past he couldn’t escape.

He smiled to himself as he fiddled with the napkin where your phone number was scrawled. Things were looking up for him, and he was already planning what he was going to say when he called you that evening.

taglist: @daisy-is-a-writer

#steve harrington x reader #steve harrington #stranger things #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington fluff #stranger things x reader #steve harrington fanfic #stranger things imagine #steve harrington angst #stranger things fic #steve harrington series #stranger things series #teacher!steve harrington x reader #teacher!steve harrington #stranger things angst #steve harrington x you #stranger things x you

211 notes · View notes

keeryhours · 2 months ago

Text

wildflower chapter six

Eddie Munson x Henderson! female reader, Steve Harrington x reader

Main Masterlist

Series Masterlist

Eddie Munson Masterlist

Steve Harrington Masterlist

Summary:

When Eddie lets you down, you find comfort elsewhere.

Warnings:

Smut (18+), unprotected sex, p in v, oral (m and f receiving), accidental creampie, angst

Word Count: 5.5k

A/N:

Happy New Year and happy Wildflower update day! 🥳 I hope you enjoy!

—

Your days at the diner were never interesting. The most action you ever saw was the occasional rude customer you got to throw out. But it wasn’t often (anymore, at least) that Corroded Coffin came in to eat.

Thankfully the restaurant was pretty dead when they came in, but the customers that were there jumped up, asking for autographs the second the four boys walked in the door. The guys were polite, quickly signing some napkins and menus before excusing themselves.

“Hey, pretty lady,” Eddie greeted as he slid into a booth in your section, Gareth, Jeff, and Doug following.

“Hey mama, long time no see,” Gareth said, a knowing look on his face. Eddie kicked him under the table, Gareth hissing a quiet Ow!

You blushed deeply as you handed them each a menu. “You told them?”

“Uh, yeah,” Eddie said, giving the other boys a look that said please don’t say anything stupid. “Is that okay?”

“Yeah, of course,” you assured him quickly. “He’s…your son, too.”

The words struck Eddie unexpectedly deep, filling him with a sense of warmth and love. He smiled, the confirmation bringing him a sense of pride. “Hey, I was thinking I could come by tonight after you get off? Hang out with you both for a little while?”

“Yeah, that would be great,” you said, smiling at Eddie like he was the only person in the room. “He’d like that. He’s been asking about Ebbie since you left.”

Eddie chuckled. It was definitely cute, and he loved that Asher had been thinking about him, but he couldn’t help but wonder when the title of Dad would be earned. He wanted to be Dad. He wanted Asher to be a Munson. “I’ve missed him too.”

You were happy to hear that. You wanted Eddie and Asher to have a relationship. You never thought the day would come, but now that it had, you realized this was what you had been longing for all along.

“What can I get you guys today?” You asked, pulling out your notepad and pen with your usual customer service smile.

Eddie held his hand up, indicating he wanted to speak first. “Well, are you on the menu?”

The guys at the table all groaned as you rolled your eyes, a blush on your cheeks as you raised a hand to cover the embarrassed smile on your lips. “Oh my god. You did not just say that.”

Eddie didn’t falter. “I mean, all this food looks delicious, but you look better.”

You smacked his arm lightly with the pad of paper. “Eddie Munson!”

The guys all busted out laughing, causing you to join in. Eddie blushed, but never took his eyes off of you.

Eventually, you got orders from all the boys. They ordered practically the whole menu between them, burgers and fries and chicken tenders and just about everything else, including the desserts.

“Okay guys, let me just put this in and I’ll be right back with your drinks.”

As you turned and walked away, Eddie watched you. He watched the sway of your hips as you walked, the way your hair hung just right on your shoulders. He watched the way your little uniform dress hugged your curves and showed off your legs. He didn’t think he had a thing for housewives, but the apron was certainly doing something for him.

Gareth snapped him out of his thoughts by literally snapping in his face. “Uh, hello. Earth to Eddie.”

Eddie turned to look at the guys, who were all staring at him. “What?”

Gareth sat back in his seat. “So, what made you not call her for two years? Because you look like you’re about to pounce on her at any second.”

Eddie’s jaw clenched. He didn’t want to talk about this right now, or ever again, really. He knew how badly he fucked up. He had heard it from everyone endlessly, especially himself. “Gar-“

“Yeah, man, did you need to see her again to remember how hot she is?” Jeff asked with a laugh. “I mean, she always was-“

Eddie smacked a hand down on the table, startling the other guys. “Enough. Don’t talk about her like that.”

It was quiet for a second, then his three bandmates all started laughing.

“Oh, Eddie, man,” Doug said through his laughter. “You’ve got it bad.”

As you turned around with the four drinks on your tray, you saw the boys laughing. You couldn’t help the old high school fear that they were laughing at you.

But Eddie also seemed perfectly happy in his new life without you. You wondered if he missed you at all. If he ever thought about you on the road. If he slept with other women.

You reached the table and placed the drinks down, remembering perfectly who had ordered what. “Can I help you guys with anything else right now?” You asked, waitress persona back in place.

“I think we’re good for now,” Gareth answered. You looked at Eddie, but his cheerful expression from earlier was now gone.

“Alright, just let me know if you need anything. I’ll be back with your food shortly.”

Once the lunch rush hit, the diner was packed. Your section was full and you were kept much too busy to worry much about the Corroded Coffin boys, although you did feel bad that their meal kept getting interrupted by over eager fans.

Eventually, you noticed the guys had left. You moved over to their table to clear it off, gathering plates and dishes.

You gasped when you saw the $200 tip that was left for you.

—

“Ebbie coming?” Asher asked for about the millionth time that evening.

“He’s supposed to, buddy,” you told him, fingers tracing through his curls as you eyed the clock again. It was almost bedtime for Asher, and Eddie still hadn’t showed. He was supposed to be here hours ago.

“When?” He asked again.

“I don’t know, Ash,” you admitted, looking down at his big sad brown eyes that reminded you so much of his father’s. “It’s almost bedtime, though. Maybe Eddie will come visit tomorrow?”

“No!” The toddler stamped his foot down, tears welling in his eyes as he looked up at you with all his nearly 2-year-old anger. “No bed! Ebbie.”

Your heart broke for him. You wished you had let it be a surprise, because giving him this hope and then having to take it away was too much. His dad had just come into his life and he was already being unreliable. It made you question the whole thing all over again.

“I’m sorry buddy,” you told him again. “We’ll do something fun tomorrow. Let’s go take a bath and get in your pajamas, huh?”

Reluctantly, the little boy went with you. You ran his bath, playing with him in the water which had him giggling again. You were happy to see him happy, but the ache in your chest over Eddie’s no-show wouldn’t be forgotten.

By the time his bath was over and Asher was dried off and dressed in his Thomas pajamas, he was rubbing his eyes. You tucked him into bed, read him some of his favorite books, and he was already drifting off as you left the room, closing the door softly behind you.

You covered your face with your hands as the tears began to fall. You felt like you had let Asher down yourself, and that’s something you never wanted to do. Something you swore you wouldn’t do. And letting his father do it was something you swore against when Eddie came back into your lives.

You walked into the living room, eyeing the picture frames decorating the hallway as you walked past. The memories had you smiling to yourself. One of them stopped you short - it was you and Steve at Asher’s first birthday, Asher smiling between you. There was so much joy in that photo.

Steve. Steve, who had always been there. Steve, who had never let Asher down a day in his life and would never even dream of it. Steve, who would do anything for both of you.

You had made up your mind by the time you got to the living room. You lifted the phone from the receiver, dialed the familiar number and listened to it ring.

“Hello?” Steve answered after only a few seconds.

“It’s me,” you said through sniffles, wiping away the tears that had managed to fall without you noticing.

“What’s wrong?” Steve asked, suddenly very serious. “Are you okay? Is Asher okay? Did something happen?”

You huffed a small laugh - it was just such a Steve reaction. “We’re okay. Just…Eddie was supposed to come over tonight, and he never showed up.”

“That asshole,” Steve hissed on the other end of the line. “Why not?”

“I don’t know…I haven’t heard from him.”

Steve sighed. “I’m sorry, sweetheart. How did Asher take it?”

“Not well,” you admitted. “He was really upset.”

“That pisses me off,” Steve said, sighing again. “Do you want me to come over?”

“…Would you?” You asked finally, realizing that’s exactly what you wanted right now.

“Of course. I was watching some movies with Robin, but I’ll gladly kick her out.” You heard something thrown at him, then a “Hey!” and some laughter.

“I don’t want to ruin your night-“

“You’re not ruining anything. I’ll be there in 10, okay?”

“Okay,” you smiled softly to yourself, then hung up the phone.

You wondered if you should make something for you both to eat. It was already 10pm, too late for anything substantial and he probably wasn’t hungry anyway. You settled for taking the cookie dough out of the fridge, lining up the balls of dough on the baking sheet. You were just putting the tray in the oven when the front door opened.

“Hey,” you greeted, wiping your hands on a dish towel. “I’m really happy you came over. I put some cookies in the oven.”

Steve crossed the kitchen quickly, wrapping you in a tight hug within his strong arms. You let yourself melt into the embrace, the feeling of guilt in your chest turning to one of warmth instead. He placed a kiss on the top of your head.

“Of course, you know I’m here any time you need me.” Steve cracked the oven door open, peeking inside. “Nice! Chocolate chip, a classic.”

You giggled as he closed the door, then turned to look at you, leaning against the counter. “Now tell me what happened.”

You recounted the story, starting with Eddie and the guys showing up at the diner. By the time you were done talking, the oven timer was going off. You slipped the oven mitts onto your hands and opened the door, pulling the tray of hot cookies out.

“I can’t believe he would just say he was coming and not show up or call or anything.” Steve shook his head. “These look delicious, by the way.”

Once the cookies were cool, you piled some onto a plate and went to sit on the couch. Steve brought one of the movies he and Robin hadn’t gotten to - Hellraiser - and you started it, although you weren’t paying the most attention as you kept chatting.

The air began to chill the exposed skin of your legs, sending shivers through your body. You pulled a blanket from the back of the couch to spread over your laps. Steve wrapped an arm around your shoulders and you cuddled into his side.

“You know you deserve better than this, right?” Steve whispered.

You looked up at him. “What do you mean?”

“I mean you and Ash deserve better than someone unreliable. You deserve more than getting stood up.”

You let out a long sigh. “I don’t know. I feel like there has to be some reason. Eddie wouldn’t…I don’t know, the Eddie I knew wouldn’t have done this.”

Steve was quiet for a minute. “You haven’t talked to him for years, sweetheart. Things change.”

He was right, but the words made your stomach ache. You didn’t like thinking about the old Eddie, your Eddie, being gone now. But he had a point. You weren’t the same girl he left behind, either.

You pushed a stray piece of hair behind your ear. You were lost in thought, the movie long forgotten.

“You’re so beautiful,” Steve said quietly, his fingers gently brushing over your cheek. “You deserve the world.”

“That’s not true-“

“It is,” Steve said firmly. “You’re a beautiful, incredible woman. An amazing mom. Did I mention hot?”

You started laughing then, covering your blushing face with your hands. “Oh my god, stop.”

“I’m serious, though,” Steve said, chuckling lightly. “You are all of those things. I wish you could see your worth. I wish you could see yourself the way I see you.”

He gently grabbed your wrists, pulling your hands away from your face. Your eyes met his, seeing something behind them you’d never quite seen before. “Steve?”

His gaze flicked down to your lips. His tongue darted out to lick his own, like he was thinking about something. Then he leaned in, pressing his lips to yours. Your eyes widened, completely shocked by his move, but you didn’t push him away. You found you didn’t entirely mind it.

Steve pulled away quickly. “Fuck, I’m so sorry. I don’t know why I did that.”

It was completely unexpected. Completely out of nowhere. Steve was your best friend in the world, and it had never been more than that. You had always been off limits, always been Eddie’s girl. But…you weren’t upset at him. It was honestly…nice.

“It’s okay, Stevie…” You trailed a fingertip over his jaw. “I kind of liked it.”

He grinned sheepishly. “You…liked it?”

“Yeah,” you admitted softly. “Maybe we could…do it again?”

Steve smiled at that. He placed his hands on your waist, pulling you closer to him on the couch. Your hands rested on his biceps, and you both leaned in until your lips were locked together once again.

It was strange, to think it was Steve’s lips on your own. You honestly hadn’t had many experiences outside of Eddie. He was your first boyfriend, and your last. It almost felt wrong, even though you and Eddie hadn’t been together for years, but it also felt right, as cheesy as that sounds.

His hands tightened on your waist as his tongue slipped into your mouth, exploring your own with an eagerness. He tasted so nice, like peppermint and the cookies you had eaten together. You moaned into the kiss, which made him moan back.

He placed a kiss to the corner of your lips before working over your jawline. When he reached your neck, he began sucking softly at the skin, wanting desperately to mark you up and claim you as his finally, but he knew he couldn’t leave hickies when you’d have to cover them for work and potentially have questions from Asher. So, he restrained himself, moving to a different spot whenever he worried it would start to bruise.

Your head was tilted to the side, eyes closed and soft moans leaving your lips as he devoured you, pulling you as close as you could get to each other. You took it a step further, swinging a leg over his lap and straddling him.

You could immediately feel how hard he was beneath you. He knew it, too.

“Sorry,” he said with a blush. “You’re just-“

You cut him off by grinding down onto the hardened bulge, making him groan loudly in surprise. You quickly covered his mouth with your hand, laughing quietly. “Shh!” Steve nodded, and you removed your hand.

“Just feels so good,” he mumbled, moving back to kissing your neck. His hands slid around to grab at your ass. He had longed to do that for as long as he could remember, and now that he had his hands on you, it was even better than he pictured in his head all those nights alone. The way your ass fit perfectly in his large hands, the plush of it when he squeezed, it made him impossibly hard.

He moved back up to your lips, kissing you feverishly. You bit down on his bottom lip, and he groaned quietly, his tongue darting out to lick at yours. The kiss had become sloppy, messy, and desperate, all tangled tongues and quiet moans and hands everywhere.

“Steve,” you moaned, his name feeling strange on your tongue in this context. Strange, but nice.

He moaned your name in return, guiding your hips to keep grinding on him. “Fuck, baby. You’re gonna make me cum in my pants like a fucking teenager if you keep doing this.”

You giggled, giving him one last movement along his aching cock before you climbed off of him. He watched you curiously, wondering if you’d changed your mind, and desperately hoping that wasn’t the case.

He realized all his fears were unfounded as you sunk to your knees in front of him, holding eye contact. His eyes widened and his lips parted, hands clenching into fists on the couch cushions.

“Sweetheart,” he said, voice raspy as he looked down at you on your knees for him. “You don’t have to do this if you don’t want to.”

You smirked at him as you hooked your fingers into the waistband of his sweatpants and began to pull them down. His erection was obvious in his boxers, straining against the thin material like it was begging for you. “I want to,” you said simply. His cock twitched at your answer.

You pulled his boxers down, exposing his hard cock to your hungry eyes. You practically drooled at the sight. He was big. Like, really big.

You wrapped your hand around it, struggling to close your fingers around his girth. He moaned at the contact, his cock twitching again in your hand. You stroked him a couple times, but he was already rock hard. You leaned forward and licked the precum from his tip.

“Sh- shit!” Steve hissed. “You really don’t have to-“ His head fell back as you engulfed his cock in your mouth, his protests turning to groans of pleasure. “Oh fuck.”

You took him deeper, as deep as you could fit him. You were a bit out of practice admittedly, so you kept gagging on him, but he seemed to love that. He fought to keep his eyes open as he watched you suck his cock, not wanting to miss a single second, but the feeling kept making his eyelids flutter closed.

“Jesus fucking Christ,” he moaned, one hand moving to rest on the back of your head. He didn’t force you, everything you were doing to him was like heaven already. “You’re so good at this, oh my god.”

You almost laughed, but managed to keep up your motions instead. You paid extra attention to the underside of his cock with your tongue as you sucked him, sucking hard at the tip every now and then, which made his hips buck up into your mouth with a whiney moan. You gently massaged his balls in your hand as you worshipped his cock. You absolutely loved the way your best friend was falling apart for you, because of you.

His grip on your hair tightened, and you could feel his thighs tensing beneath your hands. You could tell he was getting close, even before he said “Baby, I’m gonna cum if you don’t stop-“

You pulled off of him, a string of saliva connecting your plush lips to his dick. He looked at you with an expression of love and adoration and even pain. Like he loved you so much it hurt.

He pulled you to him, kissing you deeply again. He pulled his sweatpants back up. “Fuck. That was amazing,” he said, breathless. “Let’s go to your room?”

You nodded, and then nearly screamed as Steve picked you up bridal style. He carried you quietly to your bedroom and laid you gently on the bed. He pulled his shirt over his head, pushing his sweats and boxers back down. He was completely naked before you now, and your eyes roamed over him, enjoying the view maybe a little too much.

He moved for you then, pushing your shirt up as he placed kisses against your stomach, trailing up higher and higher until he reached your breasts. He pushed the shirt up and over your head then wrapped his lips around one of your nipples. Your head fell back against the pillows and you moaned quietly at the feeling of his hot mouth against your sensitive nipples. He gave both equal attention, before kissing back down your body.

“You are so beautiful,” he said. “The most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen in my life.”

Your heart swelled in your chest at his words, but you were quickly distracted when he began pulling your shorts and panties down your legs. Once you were naked, he spread your legs, eyes raking over your body, and especially your pussy, like a man starved.

He laid on his stomach between your legs, hands holding your shaking thighs apart. You were nervous - it had been a long time, and you hadn’t exactly been expecting this to happen.

He flattened his tongue and licked a stripe along your folds. You moaned, a hand covering your mouth to keep yourself quiet, because you weren’t sure if you’d have the self control for this.

“You taste so sweet,” he said, burying his face in your pussy and breathing it in like his favorite cologne. “Your pussy is perfect. Even better than I imagined.”

You didn’t focus too hard on that last part, quickly distracted by his tongue flicking over your clit before he wrapped his lips around it. You gasped, back arching as he began to devour you fully.

You had to grab a pillow and hold it over your face, because you couldn’t control the noises Steve was pulling from your body. You were powerless against the pleasure he was giving you, able to do nothing but ride it like a wave, fingers gripping white knuckled into the pillow case.

Steve was much better than your fingers or any toys. He had your orgasm building quickly, stronger than you’d felt in years. You held the pillow tightly against your face as you cried out when your orgasm hit, hips grinding up against Steve’s greedy mouth. He lapped up every bit of slick hungrily, moaning against your pussy.

When you had come down completely, Steve kissed along your thighs, biting gently on the skin there - he could mark you here, at least, where only he could see. He left light bruises on the inside of your thighs. When he was satisfied he moved up your body again slowly. He kissed you again, letting you taste yourself on his tongue.

You could feel his cock hard and insistent against you. You wanted him badly, so badly you couldn’t believe how desperate you felt for him. You were soaking wet, hips grinding against him as you were desperate for him to fill you.

“I- I don’t have a condom,” Steve said like it pained him, looking down at you. “We can stop-“

“No,” you said quickly. You had come this far after not having sex for two years (at least sober, the night with Eddie after the show had also happened), and you really did not want to stop now. “We can keep going. Just pull out.”

He nodded quickly. “Yeah. Okay.” He reached down, lining himself up at your entrance. You jumped at the feeling at first, so unfamiliar now. And Steve was big. Not that Eddie wasn’t, but…two years. You barely even remembered the hookup.

“I’ll go slow,” Steve said, sensing your apprehension. “Tell me if you want me to stop, okay?”

“Okay,” you said quietly, your heart beating hard in your chest. Steve being so sweet was making this easier, but you knew you wouldn’t want him to stop. “I’m ready.”

Steve slowly pushed inside. He only had his tip in when you clenched your eyes shut, fingernails digging into the skin of his biceps.

“Is this okay?” Steve asked quietly, placing gentle kisses along your cheek. He was carefully thrusting in deeper, moving at as slow of a pace as possible. It took every bit of restraint in his body not to pound you into the mattress.

“Yes,” you said, voice quiet. You were slowly adjusting around him, wanting him deeper and deeper. “Please, more.”

Steve groaned against your ear, pressing in deeper until he finally bottomed out. His hips were pressed flush against yours, his cock completely buried in your tight, perfect heat. It was the most incredible thing he’d ever felt.

“Fuck, baby, you feel so good,” he moaned. He intertwined his fingers with yours, holding your hand above your head as his other arm held him up. “Wanna make you feel so good. Wanna make you cum again, feel you cum around my cock.”

You whimpered at his words, wanting them all to come true. “Please,” you whispered instead.

Steve hummed, pulling his hips back before slowly rolling them into you again. You both moaned at the perfect friction created between you, the way his cock filled you up. Like a piece of you that had been missing.

He set a slow pace to start, rolling his hips against yours in a perfect rhythm. The only sounds in the room were the gentle creaking of the bed and the soft breathy moans from both of you. Steve held your hand tightly over your head, your left gripping onto his right arm for leverage.

When he could tell you weren’t in any pain, he sped up his movements, watching your face carefully for any sign you weren’t enjoying yourself. Instead he saw your beautiful features twist in pleasure, pleasure that he was giving you. Only him. Only Steve.

“You’re incredible,” he said, looking down at you with total adoration. “Absolutely incredible.”

You pulled him down into a heated kiss, your left hand moving up to tangle in his hair. He started fucking you faster, skin slapping against yours as he began really pounding into you.

Steve pulled away to watch you again, finding himself addicted to the way you looked when getting fucked. He looked down at where you were joined, watching his cock disappear inside your perfect cunt. He had to look away before he came immediately.

Little “ah-ah-ah!”s were spilling from your lips, making Steve feel like he’d never been so turned on in his entire life. Everything about you was perfect to him. Everything about this was more than he ever dreamed of, alone with his cock in his hand.

“I’m so close, Stevie,” you whined, pulling him close to you. He was fucking you at the perfect angle, cock hitting just the right spot deep inside. Somewhere you could never reach on your own.

“Cum for me, baby, please,” he said, letting go of your hand to reach between you and rub circles on your clit. “Need to feel you cum all around my dick.”

The extra stimulation on your clit combined with the sensation of his cock filling you completely, pressing against your g-spot with every thrust, sent you over the edge a second time. You came hard, burying your face in his neck as you cried out in pleasure.

It was too much for Steve. Your pussy clenched around him over and over as you rode out your orgasm, and it was so good, and you were just so wet and tight, it sent him over the edge himself before he even knew what was happening.

He moaned your name over and over as he came inside you, ropes of his cum coating your walls. You rode each other through your orgasms, bodies intertwined.

It wasn’t until you came down that you both realized what happened. Steve pulled out of you, a look of pure fear on his face. “Jesus, fuck, I’m so sorry. I’m so fucking sorry. I’m such an idiot. I-I don’t know what happened, I just…”

“Steve,” you said, placing a hand on his arm to calm his panic. “It’s okay. I…I can go to the doctor, get the pill.”

He visibly calmed once you said that. He placed a hand on your thigh, looking at you seriously. “I’ll take you. I’ll pay for it.”

“Okay,” you agreed softly. “Now come cuddle with me. Unless you’re planning to leave?”

“No!” He said quickly. “No, of course not. You’re not…you’re not just some hookup.” He crawled back into the bed with you, leaning against the pillows. He held an arm out and you cuddled against his side.

Your fingertips idly traced along his chest, feeling the softness of his chest hair. Steve played with your hair gently, twirling your curls around his finger. You were close to drifting off.

Your moments of quiet bliss were interrupted by a knock at the door. You both froze, wondering who could possibly be here at this hour. You had an idea, but you didn’t like the thought of it.

The knock sounded at the door again, and you jumped up. “I’ve got to get that before they wake up Asher.” You pulled your panties back on and grabbed the first shirt you saw.

“Wait, I’m coming with you,” Steve said, fumbling for his own pants, but you were already out of the bedroom.

You opened the door, and your fears were confirmed.

“Eddie,” you said, more like a statement. “What are you doing here?”

“I’m so sorry,” he said in a rush. He was out of breath, like he’d ran here. “We were working in the studio today, and I- I got caught up, and I didn’t realize the time, I was just so caught up in the music and the band that I didn’t think-“

Eddie stopped cold as he looked at something over your shoulder. You turned and saw Steve standing there like a deer in headlights. He was shirtless, only wearing his sweatpants hung low on his hips. It felt like deja vu, only reversed this time.

You turned back to Eddie, who was now looking down at what you were wearing. Steve’s shirt. You hadn’t even noticed what you’d thrown on.

Eddie looked at you with a look of pure horror on his face. You’d think you were still together, like you’d cheated on him with Steve right in front of him. That’s how it felt to Eddie, at least.

“Jesus, what- what did you do?” Eddie asked. His eyes were filled with pain, and even though you weren’t together and you owed him nothing, you felt like the absolute worst person on the planet.

“Ed…”

“Listen man, it’s-“

Eddie held up his hand, silencing the other man. “I…do not want to hear from you right now.”

“Eddie, you’re being unfair,” you said.

“Unfair! How am I being unfair?” Eddie scoffed. He couldn’t even look at the two of you. “I just walked in on you having sex with Steve Harrington-“

“Okay, first of all, you did not walk in on us having sex,” you pointed out. “And second of all, did you forget we’re not together?”

Your words hit him like a punch to the gut. Sure, he knew that, but - you’d slept together since he’d been home. It may have been a drunken hookup, but still. You were still kind of his girl, weren’t you? You’d always been. You always would be. Right?

“That doesn’t matter, it’s still-“

“It’s still what?” You asked. “Tell me, Eddie, were you celibate those two years on tour? Or did you fuck groupies after shows while you left me and your son behind?”

Eddie’s face tensed. “That’s not fair. I didn’t know about my son.”

“True,” you said, “but you didn’t answer the other question.”

Eddie stayed silent. It was answer enough. The whole apartment was awkwardly silent, the tension in the air palpable, like a weight over you all.

“You know, you really let Asher down today,” you said. “He was excited to see you. He asked about you all night until he went to bed.”

Eddie’s heart broke. “I’m so sorry. I never meant for that to happen. I never meant to hurt him, or you.” He swallowed. “But does that mean you had to run into the arms of Steve Harrington?”

“Eddie…” you sighed. “I think you should leave. It’s late. We can talk about this later.”

Eddie just looked at you, then to Steve. He shook his head. “Yeah. We’ll talk later.”

And with that, he turned and left the apartment, wanting to slam the door but at least having the forethought not to since Asher was asleep. He walked down the hall, down the stairs, to the parking lot. His trusty van was there. He had driven himself this time.

There were so many memories in that van, memories with you. Hell, Asher was probably conceived in the back of the damn thing. Eddie climbed into the front seat and lay his head on the steering wheel.

And he cried.

tag list

@awkward00noodle @american-idiot-jpg @georgeweasleyslostearhq @fandom-princess-forevermore @emxxblog @hopesicle @hellv1ra @whimsiwitchy @avalon-wolf @kellsck @toomuchbucky @sashaphantomhive @losingmygrasponreality @the-disaster-in-waiting @eddiesgirl1944 @ashcal99 @richardsamboramylove55 @ilovetaquitosmmmm @allhailtheslothoverlord @micheledawn1975 @browneyes528 @costellation-hunter @taccobelle @hellmastereddie @siriuslysmoking @princessadriana4-blog @littlemissholy @punkrockmlchael

319 notes · View notes

crappymixtape · 1 year ago

Text

because of you • part one

PART II • PART III • PART IV • PART V • EPILOGUE // REQ -> @sattlersquarry ❝ an enemies to lovers fic with Steve? 💙 maybe they have to put aside their differences to fight upside down stuff and realize they actually have a lot in common 👀 • 18+ | ( 2.1k – little bit of king!steve, mostly angst with a dash of fluff, enemies to idiots in love, steve x reader )

B E C A U S E O F Y O U • P A R T O N E 🎶 good girls ( john carpenter remix ), chvrches

“Why is she even here?”

“Steve!”

A loud smack cut the air in two as Robin slapped a hand against Steve’s shoulder, rendering the rest of group there in Max’s trailer silent.

Your arms were crossed tightly over your chest, cheeks burning under his gaze, lips twisted into a scowl and trying hard to hold back the daggers you wanted so badly to throw at him.

“She doesn’t know what the hell we’re up against! How’s she supposed to–“

“Steve, none of us knew either, cut her a break.”

“Cut her a break and then what? We all get eaten by a fucking melted people monster?”

“That’s not fair–“

“It’s fine! It’s fine, Nancy,” you cut the girl off, standing quickly from your spot on the couch.

They’d been talking like this since you showed up. Like you weren’t right there in the room with them and honestly you kind of wished you weren’t anymore.

“I need some air,” you grumbled before giving Steve a pointed glare and shouldering open the front door.

The air outside was crisp as you sat down on the front stoop. Not a cloud in the sky and sunlight washing everything in soft golden light, but it all still felt so dark. Like it was harboring thick shadows. Long, spindly, and pitch black. Waiting to wrap their twisted fingers around you.

Waiting to dig into you and squeeze tight.

Waiting to lift you twenty feet into the air and snap your bones like twigs.

Waiting to leave you for dead.

And here was Steve fucking Harrington asking what right you had to be there. Asking what purpose were you gonna serve amongst this “holier than thou” joke of an army. Steve, Robin, Nancy and Eddie had already gotten their asses handed to them by what they’d called demobats, Steve arguably needing serious medical attention, and they wanted to go back? It took everything you had to not leave right there on the spot.

Hell, maybe you should, you thought for a minute. You didn’t owe them anything, especially Steve, but you did owe it to your best friend. The one who basically had a hit out on him. The one who wouldn’t hurt a goddamn fly, but all of Hawkins had already decided he was guilty and you weren't about to leave him.

Eddie.

❝ SO SAVE YOUR BREATH, GIVE A LITTLE OF WHAT YOU HAVE LEFT – DO THEY KNOW SOMETHING I DON’T? ❞

You met him two years ago under the bleachers at the Homecoming football game. It seemed like the perfect place to smoke the joint you’d messily rolled in the car right before you’d come into the stadium and apparently you’d been right, but someone else had already laid claim to it...

“Hate to break it to you sweetheart, but this is kind of my spot.”

He’d been all black leather and denim. Dark curls and clove. Silver rings and chains and heavy boots and maybe you should’ve been more intimidated, but the smile lines at the corners of his mouth gave him away.

“Don’t see a sign anywhere,” you’d shot back, no hesitation. Looked over at him all skeptics and attitude and took a long drag from your joint. Blew the smoke off in his direction and it made him grin like an idiot.

“Been sellin’ weed down here for like…the last three years so–actually, yeah. What the fuck, man. Someone owes me a sign.”

...And that was it, you were a goner. Laughing mid-toke and coughing so hard you cried and it made him feel so bad he gave you a baggy for free. Eddie "the freak" Munson and you – best friends.

Skipped all the stupid dances and football games with you. Paraded around the lunch room like an idiot with you. Threw fries back at the jocks for you when they called you a loser and sat on the floor in the bathroom with you when you cried.

So fuck “King Steve” Harrington.

You had every right to be there, probably even more than he did and you were gonna tell him to his face, but—

“Can I sit?”

The sudden sound of someone else made you jump.

“Jesus, Eddie.”

“Sorry,” he chuckled and sat down next to you. Gave you a sidelong glance and a small lopsided smile. “He’s really not so bad–”

“You’re joking. Right? Tell me you’re joking.”

The boy hummed, dropped his gaze down to the rings wrapped around his fingers and twisted the one on his thumb.

“He doesn’t want me here. None of them do,” you grumbled, frustration fed further by his non-answer and it pulled his eyes back up to you.

“Hey now, that’s not true–”

“Yes it is! Even Nancy looks at me like a kicked puppy.”

That pulled a laugh from him. Made him scoot closer to you and bump his shoulder into yours. “Listen, sweetheart,” the nickname made you soften, but you tried to keep your scowl in place, “We’re all in over our fuckin’ heads, hm? And Stevie boy…he’s seen some shit. He’s just trying to–”

“Just trying to what? Be a complete dickhead about it? Mission accomplished.”

Eddie sighed and roughed a hand over his face. Rested his elbows on his knees and laced his fingers together. He knew what you felt because he’d felt it too. Knew what it was like to get laughed at and mocked in the lunch room. Knew how it was supposed to be between him and the other boy. Hell, he nearly cut Harrington’s face off with a broken bottle a few days ago, but one thing was clear.

Change was possible and Steve Harrington was proof, he just wasn’t great at showing it.

“Alright. He could be less of a dick,” he conceded, propping his chin in his hand and looking at you with his big brown eyes. How could you be mad at that?

You mumbled under your breath about that not being the only thing, but fine, okay, only for you, Eds.

Reaching over he flicked at your fingers and looked at you from under his curls with a stern pinch between his brows. “He’s helping me, sweetheart. They all are. Shit, without them I’d probably be in jail already. Or in Carver’s trunk,” he tried a laugh, but it fell short at the end with the weight of his words and it made you grab at his hand and squeeze it.

“Shut up,” you chided softly, no heat behind it. The anger that had been swelling in your chest all but extinguished.

Silence settled between the two of you then, heavy and tinged at the edges with worry. With everything that was at risk and it started to gnaw at the pit of your stomach. What if you couldn’t fix it? And even if you could, this Vecna asshole was about to end the world anyway so what the hell did it matter?

How were a bunch of kids going to do anything about it?

“Ahem,” the door knocked into your back and jolted you back to earth. Pulled a gasp from you and when you looked up over your shoulder you felt your anger return ten fold. “We’re leaving, geniuses,” Steve announced, pushing at you with the door.

“Least you know you’re an idiot,” you mumbled under your breath, standing up from your spot to glare at him at eye level.

“Real cute,” Steve shouldered past you on the stoop, took the last two steps in one go and turned to face you both as he landed on the grass. “For you, Munson,” he said, throwing a mask at Eddie, “Courtesy of Mayfield.”

“What’s that for?” you couldn’t help asking as Max appeared at your side and pointed so casually – too casually – at the mask.

“Gonna steal a Winnebago. Get that on, dingus. Let’s go.”

“Nice,” Eddie grinned up at the red-headed girl and yanked the mask on over his head, “Thanks, Red.”

“Let’s go,” Steve urged, waving his hands at everyone to get out of the house and you felt your heart racing.

“Steal a Winnebago? Eddie. Fuck that–”

“Honey, I’m already a wanted man–” Eddie cut you off and readjusted the ridiculous looking mask a bit. “–c’mon,” he said, tugging at your belt loop to get with it.

“I–that doesn’t mean you can just steal–”

“We’re way past that,” Dustin chimed in, shoving past you just like everyone else, “Besides, if the world’s gonna end anyway, what’s it matter?”

Shit. The kid had a point. It was probably fine. It was just a trailer. Maybe you could give it back afterward? You needed it more than they did. Right?

“Dammit,” you grumbled under your breath, now the only one still standing around. “Wait for me!”

❝ THEY TELL ME I’M HELL-BENT ON REVENGE, I CUT MY TEETH ON WEAKER MEN, I WON’T APOLOGIZE AGAIN ❞

The first time you ran into Steve Harrington was sophomore year. In the hallway before Click’s class. You were cramming everything into your bag, but struggling with your history book when you heard it coming.

Tommy Hagan’s stupid laugh.

Your stomach sank, eyes glued on your things and trying to ignore it. He was in your science class the year before along with his ditzy girlfriend Carol and they always made sure to get a spot in the back just to make out.

“Need some help?”

When you finally looked up at him he’d stopped right in front of you, the grin on his lips sharklike as Carol smirked out from under his arm. Another boy you didn’t know was standing just behind them wearing a stupid member’s only jacket, half unzipped, and had hair that sat perfectly in place. Too perfect.

“That looks heavy, hm?” Tommy said grabbing your book, voice all saccharine sweet and sharp around the edges. Flipping through the pages he pulled a face, clicked his tongue and weighed it in his hand, then made a show of dumping it on the floor. “Whoops. Sorry!” he half-laughed and your cheeks burned.

“Bite me, Hagan,” you snapped back, bending down to grab your book, and it only made his grin grow wider.

“Ooo. She’s fiesty today, Stevie. I like it.”

And then he chimed in. Stevie. The had-to-be-douchebag that everyone called 'King Steve.'

“Probably on her period,” he said scoffing a laugh, all confidence and bravado and the look on his face was so smug. Thought he was so clever and funny and when you finally turned around it was to take the two steps up to him in one.

“Really? My period? So original.”

It made him swallow hard. Adam’s apple bobbing in his throat as he blinked back the flicker of surprise glinting in his eyes. He took a quick glance at Tommy like he didn’t want to disappoint him and then hardened his expression. Crowded down over you and nodded.

“Explains you being such a bitch.”

And it took the air from your lungs. Stuck in your sides sharp like a knife and you felt your throat tighten as Tommy and Carol snickered, but you wouldn’t let him have the satisfaction. Not here.

“Yeah. Bet you wish you had an excuse for being such an asshole,” you cut at him and it pulled an Oh shit! out of Tommy as he doubled over laughing, Steve’s mouth dropped open in shock.

Your feet couldn’t carry you away fast enough as you shoved your book in your bag and turned to leave, but you refused to run. Refused to let them see weakness, and as Tommy yelled down the hallway after you about tampons you raised a middle finger high in the air to punctuate just how much you hated them all.

Eddie met you in the bathroom after that, the one nobody used on the other side of school, and you told him everything. He let you have the joint he had tucked behind his ear for emergencies, listened to you and told you they weren’t worth it. Especially not Steve. Because even though Tommy started it, Steve was the one who dug in. Could have left it alone but didn’t and that was what really got you.

How obvious it was he knew how shitty they were being, but went along with it anyway because he had to maintain his status. Had to uphold how ‘cool’ he was and keep the line in the sand drawn between him and ‘the freaks’ like you.

So he wouldn’t get a second chance.

And he wasn’t worth your time.

Not then and sure as hell not now.

[ NOTE: THIS IS PART ONE OF A THREE PART SERIES, PART TWO AND THREE TO COME SOON ]

crappymixtape™ • steve harrington masterlist // stranger things masterlist ♥️ reblogs and comments keep me going, friends! ily! ♥️

1K notes · View notes

thelostmagicians · 3 months ago

Text

Say my name | Steve Harrington

Summary: Steve hated his name, until he heard you say it [2.5k]

Fluff, comfort, slight angst, kind of smut

♡

Steve Harrington was never fond of his name. It felt plain and boring, blending into the background of everyday life. Yet, it carried an immense significance. Named after his great grandfather - a man everyone revered - Steve bore the weight of the Harrington legacy. Perhaps that’s why his posture was never perfect; the invisible load of expectations and history bore down on him, a constant reminder of the greatness he was expected to live up to.

Maybe that’s why Steve always tried to be recognized as something other than himself, his father’s son, Nancy’s (ex) boyfriend, or the highschool King turned loser. But no one really knew Steve. Beneath the labels and legacy, there was a person who felt unseen, lost in the shadows of who he was supposed to be.

Every time his name left someone’s mouth, he would wince, almost forgetting it belonged to him, hating the way their lips formed around the rough noise of the “v” and how they would draw out the “e,” as if speaking his name was a chore.

–

The first time you said his name, it was like unlocking something buried deep inside him. You didn’t even notice how your voice softened, how the word Steve seemed to linger in the air, hanging between you. It wasn’t just a name—it was a recognition, a moment of something real, raw, and quietly powerful. He had been called “Steve” a thousand times before, but this was different. The way you said it felt like the beginning of something, and it made him feel seen in a way he never had before. Steve didn’t sound plain or burdensome—it felt like a truth you were just discovering together.

It started so simply. He’d introduced himself with an easy smile, his hand extended toward you. “Hi, I’m Steve,” he’d said, his voice steady but laced with a hint of something you couldn’t quite place—nervousness, maybe? Hope?

You smiled back, slipping your hand into his, and without thinking, you said, “Hi, Steve.” The sound of his name on your lips was unassuming, almost casual, but it did something to him. The way you said it felt warm, like the sun breaking through a cloudy sky. Your voice carried a quiet sincerity that lingered in the space between you, and for the first time, Steve didn’t feel like just a name. It felt like it belonged to him in a way it never had before—personal, meaningful, significant.

He held onto that moment longer than he meant to, replaying the way your voice pitch changed and the way you dragged out the e a perfect amount to keep him longing. It wasn’t just the first time you’d said his name—it was the first time it had ever truly meant something.

The moment leading up to your first kiss was a quiet symphony of stolen glances and charged silence, where every movement seemed deliberate and every breath felt heavier. You were standing close—closer than you ever had before—your shoulders almost brushing as the night wrapped around you like a cocoon. The air was cool, tinged with the scent of leaves and distant rain, but all Steve could focus on was you. The way your eyes flickered to his lips for the briefest second before darting back to his, the way your breath quickened ever so slightly, and how your fingers fidgeted nervously at your sides as if they were itching to reach for him.

Steve felt like the world had narrowed down to just this moment, this heartbeat where he could lean in or step back, caught between the fear of messing it up and the overwhelming pull of you. His heart thundered in his chest, loud and unruly, as if it were urging him forward. He searched your face for a sign, a hint, anything that might tell him this wasn’t just him, that you felt it too—that invisible string tugging the two of you together.

Then, you tilted your head ever so slightly, your lips parting just enough to breathe his name softly, “Steve…” It was barely above a whisper, but it was all the permission he needed. He leaned in slowly, his hand brushing against yours as he moved, tentative yet desperate to close the gap. The world seemed to hold its breath, the seconds stretching out as his lips finally met yours.

The kiss was soft at first, tentative, like a question being asked. But then, as if some dam had broken, it deepened, filled with all the unspoken feelings that had been building between you. It was everything and more—sweet, electric, and full of possibility. And when you pulled back, breathless and glowing, your eyes met his, and you whispered his name again.

“Steve…” you breathed, and it was like the world held its breath for a moment. You spoke his name with the same sweetness and stickiness found in honey, each syllable melting into the quiet night air, tasting like something sweet and familiar. It was a sound that wrapped itself around him, settling deep inside his chest, and he couldn’t help but shiver at the weight of it. He realized, for the first time, how his name could sound when it was spoken with love, with tenderness, with a kind of intimacy that had been absent all his life. His name had never sounded so soft, so intimate, as if your lips were tasting the very essence of him, drawing out everything unspoken.

The lead-up to that night unfolded naturally, like the quiet turning of pages in a story you had both been writing for months. Every shared glance, every lingering touch, seemed to hold a question neither of you had dared to voice yet. The air between you was charged but unhurried, a quiet intensity building with every stolen moment.

It started as it always did—a night spent together, lost in conversation, the kind that made time slip away unnoticed. You were sitting close, your legs brushing against his, the soft glow of the lamp casting a warm halo around you both. There was nothing particularly unusual about the moment, and yet, something had shifted. You could feel it in the way he looked at you, his gaze lingering a second longer than usual, his thumb absently tracing circles against the back of your hand.

His touch felt different that night—more intentional, though he still hesitated, as if waiting for you to meet him halfway. He laughed at something you said, but his voice wavered just enough to give him away. You could sense the nervousness behind his easy smile, the way he was holding back, testing the waters.

You weren’t immune to the nerves either. Your heart raced every time his fingers brushed against your skin, every time his gaze lingered on your lips just a little too long. You could feel the questions hanging in the air, unspoken but loud enough to drown out the quiet hum of the night. Would this change things? Would it be everything you’d both dreamed it could be?

When his fingers finally laced with yours, it wasn’t a grand gesture, just a simple, quiet moment that felt heavier than it should have. Your heart raced as his eyes met yours, his expression soft, almost reverent, as if he was memorizing every detail of your face. Then, as if by some silent agreement, you leaned into him, and he met you halfway. His lips found yours, soft and searching, as if he was trying to pour all of his feelings into that one kiss. It started slow, hesitant, but quickly deepened, the nervousness giving way to something more sure, more consuming. His hands found your waist, tentative at first, like he was afraid you might pull away. But you didn’t—you stayed, leaning into him, your hands sliding up to rest on his chest.

It wasn’t planned; it didn’t feel rehearsed. It felt real, like the natural culmination of everything that had been building between you. The world seemed to shrink down to just the two of you, and when his lips finally met yours, it was tentative at first—soft, searching, full of questions neither of you needed to ask aloud.

And yet, even then, there was a quiet hesitancy, a moment of pause where the weight of what was about to happen settled between you. “Are you sure?” he whispered, his voice low and steady despite the vulnerability in his eyes.

“Yes,” you said, the word carrying more certainty than you thought you could muster. In that moment, the space between you disappeared, and the unspoken tension finally gave way to something deeper, something that felt like it had been written into the very fabric of who you both were. The nervousness was still there, but it was joined by a sense of trust, of connection, that made everything feel right.

When the two of you finally gave in to the pull that had been building between you, tangled in a haze of desire, your voice broke the quiet with his name, and everything seemed to fade except the feeling of him, the sensation of your bodies moving in unison. “Steve,” you moaned, and it was like a spark, a rawness that ignited in him.

His name, slick with need and desire, slipped from your lips and hit him like a wave. It was as if every syllable of his name was drawn out by the rhythm of your breath, hanging in the air like a fire that kept burning, fueled by the need between you. Each time it left your mouth, he felt it in his chest, in his bones, the way it shifted from something ordinary to something undeniably his.

The sound of his name now was everything—urgent, desperate, and filled with so much connection. It wasn’t just a name—it was a thread that tied you together in that moment, every syllable carrying the weight of the desire that you both shared. And in that moment, all of the nerves, all of the fears, melted away, leaving only the two of you, completely and irrevocably intertwined.

Steve was barely conscious when he heard the sound of your voice, soft yet filled with a tremor he couldn’t ignore. The pain was sharp, every breath a struggle, but your voice cut through it, like a lifeline pulling him from the edges of everything dark and dizzying.

“I love you, Steve,” you choked out, the words trembling with raw emotion. It wasn’t a confession made in some grand, orchestrated moment—it was born out of desperation, of the fear of losing him. Those three words carried everything you couldn’t say, every ounce of love and fear and hope tangled together.

His eyes widened, softening as they met yours, and for a moment, he forgot about the pain, focused only on the sound of your voice. He wished he could gather the strength to hold you, to pull you close and reassure you, but all he could do was listen, feeling the weight of your words in the marrow of his bones. You spoke his name with the same quiet reverence as someone would speak of a cherished memory, tender and unhurried, yet desperate enough to feel like a plea. The way you said it made him feel like he was more than the hurt, more than the moment—like he was yours, and that was all that mattered.

He never expected it to be so simple, so pure, but the way you said his name made him feel like he belonged in your world. You spoke his name with the same quiet reverence as someone would speak of a cherished memory, tender and unhurried, with an understanding that transcended words.

“I’m okay,” he whispered, his voice weak but filled with something unshakable, as if the weight of your love was enough to hold him steady. But you only shook your head, tears spilling over as you said it again, quieter this time, softer, “I love you, Steve,” as if repeating it would make him believe it more, make him understand the depth of what you felt. And in that moment, he did. Every word, every breath of yours seemed to fill the cracks in him, stitching him together with something stronger than anything he’d ever known.

Years passed, each moment with you stitching together a life he never imagined he could have. There were quiet evenings, shared laughter, and moments of tenderness that wove themselves into the fabric of his world. The milestones came in small, beautiful bursts—there were birthdays, each one a marker of how far you had come, from the first one where you celebrated together as a couple. Then came the day you packed up your past in boxes, willingly unpacking it in the new solace, with Steve by your side—the simple act of combining your lives into one space, where every corner felt like home because it was with you. And then, the wedding day—a small, intimate moment at the courthouse, just the two of you standing together, hand in hand. In that quiet, unassuming space, he saw his future stretched out in front of him, brighter than he'd ever dared to dream. The anticipation was palpable, the air thick with the weight of the moment. There was a quiet nervousness, but also a profound sense of peace, as if everything that had brought you both here—every laugh, every tear, every shared glance—had been leading to this single, perfect instant. It wasn’t a grand ceremony or extravagant celebration—just a simple vow, a promise made in the presence of each other, where the world outside seemed to fade, leaving only the two of you and the love that had quietly woven itself into your lives. When you spoke your vows, it wasn’t just words—it was a reflection of every moment you’d shared and all the moments yet to come. And when you sealed it with a kiss, it felt like the universe paused, holding its breath for a brief moment, before gently exhaling with the realization that this was just the beginning.

This moment, in the quiet of the delivery room, marked the culmination of everything that had come before. It was there, amid the exhaustion and the flurry of new beginnings, that he realized just how much had been building between the two of you all along.

The air was thick with anticipation. You were both exhausted, caught in a haze of nervous energy as you prepared to meet your son for the first time. The weight of the moment pressed in on him, but when your eyes locked, time seemed to stop. In that moment, the world outside faded away, leaving only the two of you, waiting together to give your child a name—a name that would carry the love and the journey you’d shared, and the life yet to be written.

You looked up at him then, a soft smile playing on your lips. With a tenderness that made his heart ache, you whispered, “Steve.”

The name hung in the air like a promise, a future unfolding in the space between you. It was more than just a word—it was everything.

He stared at you, his heart swelling, feeling the weight of your words, of the moment. “Steve?” he asked, his voice filled with disbelief and awe, as if trying to understand why you would want to name your son after him.

You met his gaze, a soft laugh escaping your lips. You shrugged slightly, the smile never leaving your face. “It’s simple,” you said. “Steve is my favorite thing to say.”

And in that moment, it hit him all over again—this name, his name, wasn’t just his anymore. It had become something more, something that felt right in a way he had never imagined. It was the name of a legacy, a symbol of your love. His smile softened as he shook his head, overwhelmed by the significance. “I’ve never loved my name until I heard you say it.”

You spoke his name with a reverence that made it feel timeless, making it something bigger than just the two of you. It wasn’t just a name anymore—it was the thread that would forever connect you, a bond that would last for all time. And it was his.

278 notes · View notes

thaliagracesgf · 7 months ago

Text

PSA PSA PSA PSA

#hey so this is actually insane #joe keery #steve harrington #steve harrington series #steveharrington x reader #djo #steve harrington drabble #stranger things 5 #stranger things

328 notes · View notes

andvys · 1 month ago

Text

The edges of your soul (I haven't seen yet) ⭐︎ chapter one

⭐︎ Welcome and Goodbye

Warnings: hurt/no comfort, angst, mentions of death, gore, post apocalypse, mentions of being drugged, mentions of SA (not actually happening here), allusions to sex trafficking, dark themes, mean!Steve, grumpy!Steve, grumpy x sunshine

Pairing: Steve Harrington x fem!reader

Summary: Steve can't stand your presence, won't accept his friends' pleading to let you stay with them, nothing will change his mind, he wants you gone... he really does.

Word count: 7.5k

Author's note: first chapter ya'll, I know there isn't much action yet but trust me when I say it's gonna get wild in here. @hellfire--cult is my assistant as always, so don't forget about her, she proofreads AND she writes with me (don't listen to her)

⭐︎ series masterlist

⭐︎ prologue

☀︎

It’s not the nightmares that wake you from your sleep this morning, it’s not the lingering fear and the anxiety this world has brought upon you, it’s the silence, the ray of sunlight peeking through the curtains that Nancy had closed last night. The mattress is soft beneath you, the covers are warm, your hair is sprawled over the pillow under your head, smelling of shampoo, floral and sweet, a luxury in this world, to smell nice, to be clean, to wake up in safety, fully rested, you can’t remember the last time you woke up like this, you can’t remember ever waking up like this since the world has ended, and every day you find yourself missing your small apartment you left abandoned in New York. You wonder what happened to it, if it was one of the buildings that burned down after the big cities were bombed, when the government, the military still thought that the end of the world could be stopped, that the monsters could be stopped.

You don’t look back a lot, there is no point to it, to grieve something that will never come back again but a part of you feels sad for the girl you were before the evil had spread, before you had to adapt to the ugliness this world has brought, before you had to accept that the real monsters weren’t the creatures.

A sinking feeling takes over when you register the voices downstairs, loud and angry, filled with rage and hatred – hatred for you, for no reason at all.

The lump in your throat grows, bigger and bigger each passing second.

He doesn’t want you here, and it didn’t change overnight.

You swallow harshly, and throw the covers off yourself, your feet hit the cold ground when you stand up. You look around the room, Nancy’s room, that she kindly let you stay in. You find the clothes she picked out for you, probably in one of the abandoned houses. You reach for the pants, a pair of denim jeans, you grab your belt and your thigh holster, surprised that it’s still on the desk where you had left it last night, a part of you expected Steve to take it from you and only give it back when you are by the gates and ready to leave this place, like he wants you to.

It felt nice to be around people again, people your age, ones who didn’t turn you away or had ill intentions for you. Eddie and Nancy were sweet and welcoming, they provided food and a place to stay, they made conversation, the way people used to do before all this.

It makes you sick, knowing you have to leave today, by yourself, to know that you won’t get a good night’s sleep again, to know that you won’t wake up so peacefully tomorrow morning – if there will be one for you.

You throw the black shirt on, before you lean down towards the different pairs and sizes of shoes she had left here for you. They are different from your converse, which have too many holes in them already, the sole is wearing off. They used to be your favorite pair but it’s time to abandon them now too, you pick a pair of combat boots this time and tie the laces tightly.

You stop by the bathroom first, to wash your face and brush your teeth, you drown out the angry voices that belong to Steve and Nancy, you know they are fighting because of you. She wants you to stay, he wants you to leave, he doesn’t care to hide his distaste.

You stare at your reflection in the mirror, taking in the sight of yourself. You haven’t changed much, you think. Your hair got longer, you lost weight but that isn’t a surprise to you, you have gone days without food or even water, too many nights you struggled to fall asleep because of the hunger and the emptiness in your stomach.

A sigh escapes you, a sad one, you know what is waiting for you downstairs.

“Steve, she is all alone, we can’t just let her go like that!” You hear Nancy say when you slowly make your way towards the staircase.

“You know we have a supply limit. We rationed water and food for three people only, and now we would have to do it for one more?” Steve scoffs, and from what you have seen of him yesterday, you can imagine the look on his face and how he is crossing his arms over his chest, stubbornly.

“No one else would take her in! Everyone left in Hawkins are old people who can’t even fend for themselves properly–”

“She didn’t ask to stay,” Steve interrupts, not allowing her to finish her sentence. “Besides, I give two shits about her, Nance.”

His words shouldn’t sting the way they do, he is nothing but a stranger, his harsh words shouldn’t even touch you… and yet they do.

“What is wrong with you? You weren’t like this at all!” Nancy’s voice seems shocked, taken aback by the words that just left his mouth.

You hear his scoff, his humorless chuckle, “oh really? I thought you weren’t like this either! Before you would have threatened a stranger with a gun to their head, and now you let some random girl just use our things and let her stay!?”

“She seems nice, Steve!”

A part of you wants to run down the stairs and break apart the fight, you never planned on staying, you never wanted this to happen, all you wanted was shelter for the night and a new map, you never meant for this to happen.

You stand frozen in place, holding onto the railing of the stairs.

“She ain’t going to replace Barb if that’s what you think.”

Silence follows after, no words are spoken, nothing, just silence, for a minute or two.

You know he’s hit a nerve, you know he aimed for the kill with that. It fills you with guilt, knowing that this is only about you, that your presence prompted him to throw something at her that he knew would hurt her.

“You’re bringing Barb into this!? Are you seriously bringing back what happened to Barb?!” Nancy’s voice of disbelief rings in your ears.

“I am not bringing anything back, all I’m saying is she is not a pet, or a doll to keep you both fucking company!”

“She is a person!”

“She is a nuisance!”

You suck in a sharp breath, that one stung. You know you aren’t welcome here, you aren’t – weren’t welcome anywhere, it never really hurt to be turned away, so you won’t let it hurt now either.

You start making your way down the stairs, slowly and quietly. You ignore the beating of your heart as you step into the hallway and make your way into the dining room to get to the kitchen where the silence is suddenly deafening. You step where they can’t see you and you take in the sight of both of them as they stand across from one another, he is leaning against the kitchen island, glaring at the girl that welcomed you with nothing but kindness. Her arms are crossed, her eyes are burning with anger and disbelief, but mostly with disappointment.

“Wow Steve, you sure sound like your dad there.”

You watch and wait for his reaction, you see the way he tenses up, the way he furrows his eyebrows and frowns at her, he huffs loudly and drops his arms to his sides, shaking his head at her.

“See? She comes along and we fight, when we never fucking did this whole year!”

“How could there be any time to fight when we spent it grieving–”

Before she can say anymore, and reveal something that they might not want you to know about, you clear your throat and step into the kitchen, making them both snap their heads towards you.

“You guys don’t have to fight because of me, I’m not staying here, that was never my intention. I was passing through, like I told you yesterday,” you tell him, looking at him only for a second, not wanting to look any longer and see the false pity. “I appreciate what you have done for me, Nancy. You and Eddie, you have done more for me than I could have asked for, but I’ll be on my way now, and out of your hair,” you mumble the last part to the man before you, who is avoiding your eyes now, choosing to look at the hardwood floor instead.

“Good, got your map?” Steve asks, not caring about saying anything else to you.

Nancy scoffs at him, clenching her fists, she shakes her head. She can’t believe what she is hearing, what he is saying, the hatred in his eyes he holds for someone he doesn’t even know, how he is ready to turn someone away and send them to their death, because this is what is waiting for you behind these walls.

You nod your head and eye him slowly, his jaw is clenched, his eyes filled with something you can’t fully read, you see the disbelief in her whole expression – he hasn’t always been like this, the shock in her voice proved it, you wonder what happened to him, you wonder what made him so… cruel.

“Yeah, I’m gonna go now–”

“What’s happening here?” Eddie’s voice interrupts you, he stops beside you, wiping motor oil off his hands with a dark blue bandana, he scans your faces, notices the tension in the room, right away. One look at Nancy and the deep frown and he knows what is happening.

You can’t even open your mouth to answer his question before Steve beats you to it.

“She was just leaving,” he glares at his friend, warning him with his eyes not to try anything, but Eddie isn’t like Nancy, he won’t fight, he won’t argue, he simply won’t listen to him. “Got the map, right?” He asks again.

“You know what,” Eddie starts, already grinning at his friend. “I lost my last copy. And requesting one in the community takes a long while, which I already took care of. Callaway is preparing one but you know… gotta scavenge to find a good updated one and that ass is a fucking sloth.”

Steve pushes himself off the counter, furrowing his brows, he purses his lips as he shakes his head in confusion, “what– are you lying?”

“Absolutely not,” Eddie shakes his head, already stepping closer to you and wrapping his arm around your shoulder, not letting you go anywhere. “So, no. Sweetheart here can’t leave without a map. The only copy is the one for when we leave–”

Steve sighs again, probably for the tenth time this morning.

“We’re not leaving.”

“--And we’re not giving our personal map away so… until there is a spare one, she has to stay.”

Your cheeks heat up when Steve glances at you, the hazel in his eyes darkens, the frown on his face deepens. You feel weird beneath his gaze, you don’t like this, you don’t like staying somewhere you’re not wanted but Eddie is persistent, Nancy is too, and you don’t want to be by yourself again, not yet. You can’t look into his eyes any longer though, or at his face, so you look down instead.

Steve knows not to argue with Eddie, it’s no use, not with him, the look on his face tells him that Eddie is ready to bite his face off if he even dares to utter another word about you leaving. He still doesn’t hide his distaste for you, and he scoffs at his friends, looking between Nancy and Eddie, he shakes his head in disappointment, “you know, this is exactly what will get you both killed,” he grumbles before he storms past you and out of the house.

Eddie murmurs words under his breath as he shakes his head, before he turns to you, noticing the frown on your face, the uncertainty.

“Come on, you are helping me with something today.”

You finally look up again, glancing at him first, at the kind smile directed at you, the warmth in his eyes so different from the coldness in Steve’s. Nancy offers you a small smile too but the tears in her eyes aren’t hard to miss, the sadness in her features, the disappointment – maybe you should have left when he told you to.

“I– um, I can find a map somewhere else, I’ll go–”

“No.” Nancy shakes her head, “you’re staying, that’s final.”

“He doesn’t want me here,” you speak, your voice barely above a whisper.

“I want you here,” she argues, shrugging her shoulders.

“So do I.” Eddie nudges your shoulder, still smiling just as softly as before. “You’re staying until he– we’re ready to leave, we’ll go together when the time is right.”

You don’t understand why they want you here so badly, why they even care as much as they do, you understand him more, better.

You welcome their company with open arms though, appreciating it more than anything. You have been on your own for too long, you hated every minute of it, no matter how normal it became to you, you hated it, you don’t want it anymore.

Eddie doesn’t wait for you to say yes – he won’t let you leave anyways, even if you insisted.

“So… have you ever gone fishing?” Eddie asks you, beginning to lead you away when he hears Nancy’s soft sniffle, knowing she won’t want comfort or sympathy from him or you. There is only one she would want it from, but that one is long gone, so the only thing he or anyone can do is give her the space that she needs in moments like these.

He shuts the door behind him.

The wind is soft against your skin, warm and pleasant, the sun shines down on you, bright and golden rays hitting the lake and the grass surrounding you, it doesn't feel like fall yet. There is a boat by the shore, slightly moving every time the waves slosh against it.

Eddie is humming beside you, enjoying the warm day, the silence. It’s easy to forget what’s out there when you take in your peaceful surroundings and breathe in the fresh air. You remember the rotten smell in the first few months before winter came, you remember the dead birds on the ground, the apples that fell from the trees, infested by maggots, it was disgusting and you constantly had to wear a mask as to not gag after every breath you took of this rotten world.

You feel sad every time you think of how you will never smell flowers again or grass after the rain, how you will never see a field of sunflowers again, even when a part of you always hoped that the one behind your house was somehow spared by this world – it would have to be a miracle and miracles are something rare nowadays.

You wonder what this place looked like before, if any flowers grew surrounding the field in front of the lake, if it was filled with people in the summer, if any teenagers have snuck down here to throw bonfire parties, to jump into the water in the middle of the night, to share a first kiss, to come here to be alone, to cry, to enjoy the silence, to enjoy the view.

Places that were once filled with people, are now abandoned, haunted with the sound of what once was, of something that will never be again. It’s not only the world that has changed, people have too.

“Do you wanna try?” Eddie asks, pulling you out of your thoughts.

“Hm?” You tilt your head to the side, furrowing your brows at the curly haired man before you.

He chuckles, noticing the confused frown on your face, the lost look in your eyes. You were distracted, far away from here.

“I know I’m handsome, didn’t think you’d be so distracted by my beauty,” he smirks and rolls his shoulders.

You can’t hold back the giggle that falls from your lips, the playfully arrogant look on his face, the plastered smirk. You have only known him for a couple of hours, yet you can already tell that this man loves to tease people.

“I was actually distracted by my surroundings, I was wondering what this place looked like before… you know.”

Eddie nods, his smiling fading a bit, he looks down at the rod in his hand, “it was nice, I mean it still is, considering everything,” he pauses, pointing at the big willow tree that was somehow left untouched by this new world. “Flowers used to grow right here though, lots of ‘em. Bet you would’ve loved that.”

A smile grazes your face, you nod at him, “I know I would, there used to be this big field of sunflowers behind my parents’ house, it was beautiful. I got lost in it as a child though… once or twice.”

Eddie chuckles at that, “or thrice?”

You squint your eyes and smile sheepishly at him, making him chuckle again, “that’s cute.”

You nudge his shoulder with your own, “you think me getting lost is cute?”

“Hey, you’ve come a long way since then, look at you, traveling through the country without getting lost,” he teases, nudging you back.

“Who says I didn’t get lost a few times? I might’ve taken one too many wrong routes and got off the path.”

“Oh no, sweets,” Eddie shakes his head at you, “I think you’ve taken the right ones, they lead you right here and now you’re with us, you’re on the right path.”

Eddie can see the bit of confusion in your eyes, like you don’t understand him, just like you don’t understand Nancy, he knows there must be reasons for that, he can’t even imagine them though.

You look away from his warm eyes, to his arms, to the tattoos and the scars that linger on his skin, his hand is holding the rod tightly, his fingers are adorned with rings, you can tell that they are a part of him, just like the tattoos, every single one of them has a meaning. You look back into his eyes – Eddie is still a stranger to you but there is a certain energy around him, you can’t help but feel safe with him.

“You are really kind, Eddie. You and Nancy, I appreciate that a lot.”

The tone in your voice is sad, he can tell that much, he can see it too when you cast your eyes on the ground.

“Hey, I think we could use some kindness in this world, don’t you think?” He smiles softly.

Your lips curl upwards, you nod slowly, though you stay quiet for another second or two.

“Steve doesn’t seem to share that opinion with you…” You murmur quietly, a little scared to touch that topic but still curious. You heard what Nancy had said to him, it left you wondering all day. “He is not very kind, and he doesn’t want me here.”

“He’ll come around,” Eddie says, shrugging. “Besides, we’re not staying either, as soon as the RV is done, we’re leaving, together.”

Nancy had told you about it, about the community, a safe haven, somewhere far away, on the shores of California. Her family is there, her mother and her siblings, Mike and Holly, and other survivors who were led away from here by a man named Hopper. For months they hadn’t heard from them, didn’t know if they had made it there or not. Steve was positive that they had died just like everyone else did – but then, a few weeks ago, the radio station in their living room had finally given a signal, after months and months of waiting, it finally came to life, and through came the voice of Dustin Henderson, Mike’s friend.

Eddie had started fixing the RV right after. He didn’t want to waste more time staying in Hawkins, in the small gated residential that is now only filled with a few old people who refuse to leave their homes behind, they will die here and they’re okay with that. Eddie and Nancy aren’t.

“Nancy told me Nevada is your destination?” Eddie asks, continuing after you nod. “It’s on our way, we’ll go there together.”

You like the sound of that, you like the thought of not having to continue your travels by yourself, because it gets quite lonely, sometimes unsettling.

You want to go home, to your family, to your parents and your brother. You know that there is a great chance that they have left, that they have found some place else to stay but the last time you have spoken to them, when you were still able to call, when you were still in your apartment in New York, they were set on staying at the house. Your dad said that it was safe to stay, that gates and fences were built around the town, around the neighbourhood, nothing could come through.

“I’d like that.” You wish you could smile, you wish you could believe it, but you know that Steve doesn’t want to leave and you can’t imagine Eddie and Nancy leaving without him. “Steve doesn’t want to leave though… why is that?”

At that, Eddie falls quiet for a moment, his back hunches, his lips curl into a frown, sadness flashes in his features.

“He uh,” he pauses to take a deep breath, “he doesn’t want to leave his best friend, Robin.”

When he looks up at you, he notices how you get lost in your thoughts for a moment, millions of questions flash before you, questions you want to ask but won’t, out of respect. You open your mouth a few times, though no words come out.

There is this feeling inside of you, that heavy yet hollow feeling that takes home in your chest that tells you everything you need to know, it’s a feeling you have mistaken for anxiety before, when you didn’t know yet what it actually was.

“...Why isn’t Robin going too?”

Eddie hesitates, turning to look at the lake, he takes a few deep breaths, blinks as he stares ahead.

“She uh, she wants to stay here.”

“Oh.”

Eddie tries to smile, though it seems forced.

“But you don’t want to, and neither does Nancy,” you point out, knowing that she can’t wait to get out of here.

Eddie shakes his head, pressing his lips together as he breathes in, “no, I wanna be with my friends and my uncle.”

“He’s in the community too?”

Now he smiles genuinely, “yeah, he is there. Bet he is on a boat all day, catching fish for everyone. That’s something he always dreamed of actually, living by the ocean, going on boat tours, he never got the chance to before, when he wasn’t struggling with money, he was taking care of me… I can’t believe the world had to end for him to live a better life.”

You smile sadly, you can see that his uncle means a lot to him, you can tell that he misses him strongly.

“Yeah, well… life is weird, most people don’t fit into this world, most people are guided by fear and hatred now but… some have it the other way around, I suppose, as crazy as that sounds.”

Eddie nods at that, a soft chuckle falls from his lips as he looks back at the water, “honestly, this still feels like a fever dream.”

It did to you too, it felt like a dream you desperately wanted to wake up from, a nightmare like none you have ever experienced before. You don’t even remember what it was that made you realize that your old life was over, that nothing would go back to the way it was, that this was your life now and for always – perhaps it was the evilness that had awoken in most people you have encountered, or maybe it was the gruesome ways you watched people getting killed, or maybe it was the loneliness and the lack of life on the streets.

You doubt that Eddie had changed much, you feel like he had always been this way, kind and openhearted.

You wonder about Steve though, you have heard what Nancy said to him.

“What uh, what about Steve? Was he always like this?”

“You mean was he always an asshole?” Eddie asks, chuckling.

Your face flushes at that, and you quickly shake your head.

“No, I-I mean–”

“Come on, sweetheart,” Eddie tilts his head, eyes flashing with amusement, “he is kind of an asshole but to answer your question, no, he wasn’t always like this, he was always protective but now it’s more than that, he’s… everything is a threat to him now, everything he doesn’t know is danger.”

“So… I’m a threat to him?”

Eddie chuckles again, he shakes his head.

“I don’t think you could look like one even if you tried. He is just wary, he’ll come around though.”

You huff at his words, frowning a little, you’re well aware that people think you’re an easy target. Your experiences from the past, ones that happened not too long ago even, are proof of that.

“Well, even if he saw me as a threat or anyone else for that matter, I wouldn’t blame him.”

Eddie furrows his brows, “this world, the monsters are the real enemy.”

You once thought so too, back when you were still naive, still untouched by this world.

“There are worse things than monsters out there, Eddie.”

There’s no smile on your face now, no softness in your eyes, the tone in your voice is serious. A chill runs down his spine, something about the way you said it, worries him. He wants to ask, he wants to know what you are talking about, though a part of him already knows the answer to that.

“I–” Before he can utter another word, he watches the way your eyes widen as you touch his shoulder without forcing your eyes away from the lake.

“You got one! I think you got one!” You point at the line that keeps jerking forward.

“Oh!” Eddie jumps up, lifting the rod back up in the air, he starts pulling the fish up. His tongue pokes out between his teeth, a look of concentration taking over his face now.

“You got it, you got it!” You clap your hands excitedly, making him chuckle beside you as you jump on the grass.

“Alright,” Eddie murmurs, not even struggling against the strength that keeps pulling at the rod, “get the net for me, please.”

You bend down and reach for the net that he threw down earlier. You pick it up, and follow him to the shore.

“You’re next, sweetheart,” Eddie grins at you, “gonna let you catch the second fish.”

“That’s one big fucking fish! Good job, Eds!” Nancy exclaims with joy as she serves the big plate in the middle of the table.

Steve looks up at Eddie to see if he is smiling proudly, instead he sees him scowling.

“It… wasn’t me.”

Steve and Nancy slowly turn their heads to you, to see you wiggling in your seat, excitedly.

“I caught the mackerels,” Eddie grumbles as he reaches for the freshly baked bread, “she caught that one.”

Steve hides his surprise well, though he still looks at you as he sips on his whiskey before he reaches for the bowl of cooked potatoes.

“Wait, you fish?” Nancy asks as she sits down beside you.

You shake your head, smiling at your new friend, “nope! But I’m strong and I learn fast!”

You ignore Steve’s sighs and his incoherent words that he grumbles under his breath. You look at him from the side though, catching him glaring at you.

“I can tell!” Nancy chuckles as she turns to Eddie, “you’ve got some competition.”

“I fucking know, Nance,” Eddie mumbles, pretending to be mad, like he didn’t cheer when you caught that fish. He turns to Steve, who not only fills his own plate but also Eddie’s and then Nancy’s.

It’s a sweet gesture, one that shows you that he isn’t as heartless as he pretends to be.

“Thanks man,” Eddie grins, to which Steve doesn’t even smile or look at him, he turns to you though, looking into your eyes intensely – no smile, no kindness, nothing. It’s hard to look past his cold behaviour, to take him in fully, he is so robotic and rude, even when he isn’t speaking to you, he is mean, you can’t see anything else but that. You don’t expect him to put dinner on your plate like he does for his friends, you are not welcome here in his eyes but you also don’t expect him to hand you the bowl.

You reach for it, taking it from his hands, he immediately withdraws when your fingers touch his, like you are venom.

“I can take you to the greenhouse tomorrow!” Nancy smiles as she picks up her fork, stabbing it into the steamed carrots. “I’ll show you our crops, we’ve got a lot of carrots growing, right now!”

Steve glares at her, he wants you gone by the morning, he’s made it loud and clear when he came back earlier while you were out fishing with Eddie.

Nancy ignores him, Eddie does too, he is too busy taking apart the fish on his plate. But you, you can’t unsee the disapproving look on his face, it makes you squirm in your seat, it takes away your appetite too.

“I’m still surprised by how much food you have–”

“It isn’t much,” Steve interrupts you as he takes a bite of his food, his eyes practically pierce through your soul, making you cower. He acts like you will take away everything.

Nancy’s angry eyes do little, she even kicks him under the table but he ignores her.

“It’s much for someone who had nothing for months. Besides, I didn’t think that vegetables and fruit could still grow, there’s a lot of rotten land out there.”

There is no regret or guilt in his eyes, he can tell that you hadn’t had much to eat, that yesterday’s dinner and all the food on the table tonight, is a real feast for you.

“I’m sure there are other places out there that have more food, you’ll find your way there.”

Eddie sighs loudly beside him, shaking his head, though to keep the peace at this table, he bites his tongue.

Nancy leans back in her chair, she clenches her jaw, not hiding the anger she has got directed at him.

“Yeah… I’m sure I will,” You murmur quietly before you pick up your fork and start eating, forcing the food down that you were excited for.

He looks down at you, not blinking, not moving. You chew your food slowly unlike the night before. You tuck your hair behind your ear and pull the sleeve of your sweater over your free hand. There are dark circles under your eyes, like you haven’t slept in days – and you probably haven’t until last night, even that wasn’t enough to catch up on all that you have lost. You probably haven’t had a warm meal in weeks, maybe months. You probably haven’t felt safe since the day the world has ended. But he can’t care, he shouldn’t, it will only make things complicated, it will only do damage.

“We will,” Nancy exclaims.

“What?” Steve asks, forcing his gaze away from you.

“I said, we will find a place like that out there, in fact we will find our way to California together, she is coming with us as soon as the RV is ready.” Nancy says with a loud and determined tone, not caring to go soft on him anymore.

Steve slams his fork down, making you flinch. He stands up, nearly causing his chair to fall over. He grabs his gear that he threw on the coffee table earlier.

“Where are you going?” Nancy frowns, also getting up.

“To Robin. I can’t believe you two are still going on about this,” he scoffs, taking one last look at you before he storms out of the house, slamming the door behind him.

You sit quietly, looking down at your plate, no longer feeling the hunger in your stomach.

Nancy sighs loudly, she looks up at the ceiling, her jaw still clenched. She sits down again, and picks her fork back up.

You lift your head and glance at Eddie, “is Robin…”

“The best friend who doesn’t want to leave the community, yeah.” He glances at Nancy, for only a split second, before he looks down again and continues eating.

Nancy clears her throat before she looks at you, she knows you’re curious about her, about why she isn’t here, why she isn’t coming too.

“Her parents are really strict, they don’t allow her to leave Hawkins,” she explains, hesitating for a moment, “and… Steve doesn’t want to leave without her, so…”

“Oh,” you nod in understanding, squinting your eyes as you look at his empty space. He is so angry, so hateful towards everything and everyone. “Is he… are they like in love or something?”

Eddie laughs at that, shaking his head, “mmm… no… trust me, birdie’s type is more… people like you.”

Nancy looks down with a smile and flushed cheeks.

You tilt your head to the side, “oh… you mean non grumpy?”

They both chuckle in amusement, the questioning and innocent look in your eyes is funny to them both.

It takes you a moment to realize why they are so amused by your question, and you grow flustered once you understand.

“...Oh!”

That still doesn’t answer your question about him.

“Now eat up, sweets,” Eddie says, gesturing to your nearly untouched plate, “forget that grumpy asshole.”

Nancy looks down with wide eyes, taking a deep breath as she starts eating again too, “kinda hard to when he acts like this.”

Yeah, it is hard to forget that man and his glaring eyes, the cold shoulder and the mean comments that are meant to drive you away as fast as possible. You know he is probably counting down the hours until you’re gone and he doesn’t have to see you anymore.

Tomorrow you will be alone again, all by yourself, with no one to talk to, with no one to laugh with. You will be back on the road and you will turn around after nearly every step that you will take, you won’t have a warm dinner and a hot shower, you won’t have that feeling of safety, you won’t sleep again, you will spend another winter fighting for your life -- if you even make it that far.

So, you try, you try to forget him, you try to enjoy this moment with Eddie and Nancy, you try for as long as you can, even when it gets late and Nancy excuses herself to take a shower while you and Eddie clean the kitchen together.

A comfortable silence settles between you both, you wipe down the counter while he washes the dishes. You can tell that he is thinking hard about something, you noticed that he always frowns really strongly when he gets lost in his own head.

You grab a fresh towel and lean against the counter beside him, reaching for one of the washed plates, and you start drying it.

“Can I ask you something?” He finally breaks the silence, and you know you’re about to find out what went on in his head.

“Sure.”

“Earlier you said that there are worse things than monsters out there,” he pauses and puts the sponge down, putting the washed cutlery on the counter for you to dry, he wipes his hands with the towel that was thrown over his shoulder and he crosses his arms over his chest when he turns his whole body to face you. “What’d you mean by that?”

A quiet ‘oh’ falls from your lips. You don’t answer his question right away, taking your time to finish drying the plates. Eddie doesn’t push you, waiting for you to be ready, and when you are, you turn to face him, as well.

“I meant people.”

He only raises his eyebrows at you.

“People are bad, Eddie. You can’t even imagine what it’s like out there,” you sigh, not hiding the fear in your eyes. “People will do anything to survive, they will take anything they want, anyone they want…”

His brown eyes that were previously filled with confusion and curiosity are blank for a moment, his eyebrows stay furrowed until your words fully dawn on him and his features pull into a look of shock, understanding.

“Oh,” he whispers softly as his arms fall to his sides.

“There are no rules out there, anyone can get away with anything. I’ve seen people kill others for cans of food, for ammo or water. I’ve come across people who didn’t take me in so kindly, all I got was stale bread and a cell to sleep in for the night and those weren’t even the worst ones.”

Eddie frowns, he doesn’t open his mouth to speak, not knowing what to say yet.

“I’ve heard rumors… of young girls and boys being sold, traded for weapons and other things. I didn’t want to believe it.”

His face pales at your words, he shakes his head slowly, disbelief is written all over his face.

You swallow the growing lump in your throat, take a deep breath, you try to ignore the chills that run down your spine still from that night.

“A few days ago, maybe a week… I was looking for food at a gas station when a sick person snuck up on me, nearly ripped a hole into my head when it grabbed at my hair. I fell onto broken glass,” you pause to show him the wound on your shoulder, “that fucker nearly got me, I couldn’t reach my gun fast enough, I thought I was done for… Someone saved me, a man.”

Eddie swallows, bracing himself for what he is about to hear.

“Scared me more than that sick person, honestly. I didn’t trust him, but he helped me, got me alcohol and bandages for my wound, and offered me water and food. He told me that he lived in a nearby community, that his wife and his kids were there too. I was naive. I was tired and desperate for shelter, I fell for it and I almost paid for my stupidity.” You pause, feeling your heart race from just telling the story. “I had a bad feeling but I still got into his car, and it only took two minutes for him to pull out a syringe. I knew right then and there what I had gotten myself into.”

“Jesus,” Eddie whispers, eyeing you worriedly.

“I fought, I-I don’t know how I got myself out of that one but I did.”

You try not to think of the way you had almost lost that fight, how his hands grabbed at you, how scared you felt, how you thought that your heart was gonna jump out of your throat, how he nearly stabbed that needle into your neck if you hadn’t managed to kick your heel into his groin, buying you that time that you needed to get out of there and jump out of the moving car.

“I ran into the woods, I didn’t want to get back into that town and risk him coming back for me… with more men. I was lost for days, at one point I thought that I wouldn’t find my way back out of those woods but I did, I made it out and I got here. Steve was the first person, the first man I stumbled into after that. I-I was a little scared… but he looked harmless compared to the one before, and even if he wasn’t, I would’ve taken him over anyone else.” You admit, looking down at your hands.

Eddie is stunned, he doesn’t know what to say after all of this. He is shocked and horrified. He knew that people were cruel, even before all of this, but he never thought that they would turn into this. He looks down at you, sadly, he is glad that worse didn’t happen but what you went through was bad enough.

“People are like that…?”

You nod, “yeah… it’s rough out there… when you’re alone.”

Eddie didn’t want you to leave before but now? He would fight Steve to make you stay.

He places his hand on your shoulder, squeezing softly, he looks into your eyes, giving you a promising look, “you’re not alone anymore, alright? You’ve got us–”

“But Steve–”

“It doesn’t matter what he said, he wouldn’t let you out there either if he knew about this. He is not that cruel, I promise. You’re with us now and you ain’t leaving without us.”

Eddie makes a promise, and you can tell by the look in his eyes that he won’t break it.

“Okay,” you whisper, smiling softly at him before you turn away and pick up your task again.

Eddie keeps looking at you though, with a smile that slowly fades and eyes that flash with sadness. He has only known you for one day but he couldn’t help but grow protective of you already, just the way he felt when he was still in high school and he took in all the lost sheep who were looking for shelter from all those hungry wolves.

He won’t let you out there on your own, he won’t let Steve throw you out to the wolves who have gotten even hungrier.

Eddie had dealt with so much guilt when he was dragged into this world two years ago. He had no chance of saving her, but he can save you. He knows you will die if you go out there alone, with or without a map. You can’t depend on your luck alone. It got you this far, but how much more is there for you to use?

And as he chats away with you again, to distract you and himself from the sudden fear of what else they might encounter once they leave the community, you two don’t hear the creak of the stairs as someone goes to their room after spending the last minutes perched on the kitchen’s doorway.

Someone whose eyebrows were furrowed in the middle with worry, with guilt. He didn’t know it was that bad out there. He didn’t know the monsters weren’t the only ones killing, and from what you told Eddie, the bite of a demobat seemed a far better outcome than being taken away by some random people for them to do, god knows what with you.

Steve’s heart was torn as he went into his room, sighing as he dropped his bag to the floor. He felt his stomach twisting with emotions, with nerves, with feelings that he couldn’t quite figure out at the moment. It was all too dangerous, everything was. But maybe now that Eddie knew how dangerous moving around was, the idea of leaving was no longer brought up to him.

And you… He wants to strangle you.

Your feet drag you down the stairs, rubbing your eye lazily as you try to wipe the sleep away from you. You kept thinking of the conversation with Eddie, and you wondered how in the world were you going to be in the same place as someone who just didn’t want you breathing their same oxygen. There was no way you could possibly stay a long time with someone like that.

The smell of coffee filled your nostrils, something you just couldn’t believe you were smelling yet. Something you never thought you would smell ever again. Nancy must be awake, and you couldn’t wait to ask her what you could help with today, but the moment you crossed the kitchen’s doorway, you were surprised to see brown brushed hair, a broad back facing you, wearing a plain white t-shirt and some black sweatpants.

Steve turned around, his eyes clashing with yours for just one second before placing a cup on the counter, filled with coffee.

“We have milk, but we save it. I can only offer black coffee and some sugar.” You were not expecting him to hand you coffee. You were not expecting a good morning from him at all, and for you, this gesture was his way of saying it.

“I– It’s okay…” Your hands grabbed onto the cup and then poured six spoonfuls of sugar, making Steve wince at the sight.

“God, just like Munson–” You heard him scoff as he turned away from you and your eyes looked at his broad back as you watched him pour coffee into his own cup. You immediately brought the cup to your lips as he turned to face you again.

“T–Thank you.” His jaw clenched for a second, taking a sip of his coffee at the same time you did. Silence filled the room and you could feel just how awkward everything was. What were you supposed to say now? Should you be the one to tell him you might be staying? That Eddie is not letting you leave? Your mouth opened only for his voice to interrupt you.

“If you are planning on staying here, you’ll have to do chores and tasks like we all do.”

“Huh?” Your eyes widened as you looked at him. He was looking at his coffee as if it were the most interesting thing in the world before his sharp gaze turned to you.

“We shift our tasks daily. We don’t do the same thing everyday. Patrolling is a two men job–”

“You were alone that day–”

“Eddie had an emergency and it was time I had to go home anyways. There’s fishing, cooking, cleaning, gardening, patroling.” You were blinking absentmindedly at him as he kept talking and you couldn’t believe he was letting you stay. With conditions, but he was letting you fucking stay.

“Wait, are you serious?” Your voice was small as you asked the questions, “I can stay?”

“Who’s staying?” Nancy walked in, her hair a matter mess on her head, which made Steve scoff in disapproval, only for her to shrug at him as she went to get a cup from the cupboard.

“She is staying.” Nancy almost dropped the cup as she heard Steve’s words, her eyes widening as she looked at him and then back at you. “And you better not make me fucking regret this.”

His eyes were locked with yours and for some reason he felt a shiver running down his spine. Something that was telling him ‘you did the right thing’. He better have. Whatever just told him he made the right decision, better not fuck him over. Nancy turned to jump in excitement your way, smiling as she started to tell you what tasks you could take on, while you stared between her and him, not understanding what was going on yet.

Maybe he can convince you to stay, and maybe that is the key to making Eddie and Nancy stay. To forget the idea of leaving Hawkins. He can’t leave Robin. He doesn’t understand how Eddie and Nancy can easily leave her behind. He just hopes you don’t do the exact opposite.

God, he really does hope he did the right thing.

☀︎

taglist: @prettyboyeddiemunson @thesickestqrmydcll @tvserie-s-world @crispystarfishhottub @sophal22 @definitionwanderlust @talkativecarnation @mysticalwoolenfroglegs @ariesandwolves @mortqlprojections

#steve harrington series #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington angst #steve harrington blurb #steve harrington drabble #stranger things angst #grumpy x sunshine #apocalypse au

578 notes · View notes

stevesgother · 1 month ago

Text

Chalkboard Hearts - Pt IV

Pairing - KindergartenTeacher!Steve Harrington x SingleMom!Reader

WC - 5.6k

Summary - A snow day prompts Steve and Abbey to spend a little one on one time together.

AN - sorry this one took a little longer! being creative is hard when the U.S keeps sucking me of all my joy. thanks for the patience, love y’all! ~ emma

Three weeks ago, your daughter’s kindergarten teacher gave you his phone number in a chilly, deserted diner parking lot, and every weekday since that night, Abbey has had to all but drag you from his classroom when you go to pick her up in the afternoons. One topic leads to another and another, and before you realize it, you and Steve have been chatting in his mostly empty classroom for over an hour. But this morning, you’re dialing those digits he gave you on your landlines keypad for the first time with shaky fingers. You’d spent the past hour exhausting all your other options. Your mother? Working. Your sister? Out of town. Your usual babysitter? sick.

Steve was the only person you knew for a fact wouldn’t be working today.

It wasn’t for a lack of wanting to that you hadn’t called yet. Every waking hour since that night, you had been wrestling with yourself about what an appropriate reason would be. Was he flirting with you? Did he genuinely just want you to have access to him in case of an emergency? Both? Your inner dialogue was deafening– like a squawking bird in the back of your brain.

The intrusive volume of your thoughts seemed to quiet now as your leg bounced impatiently– anxiety over the prospect of having to call into work outweighing your trepidation– waiting for him to pick up the call on the other line.

He finally answered halfway through the fourth ring, “Hello?” Despite the early hour, Steve sounded wide awake. Probably rousing at the same time you did, not expecting to be temporarily blinded by three feet of bright, white snow piled on top of his car. On the kitchen radio, you can hear the newscaster announcing a closure of the local schools.

“Steve, it’s Y/N,” your voice cuts through the static.

He pauses briefly, yours probably being the last voice he expected to hear when he picked up his phone, “Hey, morning–” he clears his throat, “everything alright?”

“Yes– well– I don’t know.” You rub the tips of your fingers restlessly over your closed eyelids, “I don’t have anyone to watch Abbey with the school being closed, I've tried everyone and I really hate to ask but–”

“Of course, I can be there in thirty. Can you give me your address?”

“Are you sure, Steve? I can just call out if–”

“Don’t be ridiculous, just give me your address,” his incredulity and lack of hesitation sends the wings fluttering about in your stomach again, while cementing the reassurance of his words. You gain the courage to repeat your home address for him to write down.

You can hear the sound of pen hastily scratching paper, then after a few beats of silence he speaks again, “It’ll take me a little bit to clear off my car, but I’ll be there as soon as I can,”

“Thank you so much, you have no idea.”

“Don’t mention it,” you can hear the grin in his voice, can picture the flash of perfect white squares, “see you soon,” you breathe a heavy sigh of relief at the click of the receiver being placed back in its cradle. Abbey is bundled up on the couch watching Rugrats, a bowl of cereal in her lap. Normally, you wouldn’t let her eat in the living room, but you needed respite from her usual game of 20 Questions to make some phone calls.

“Hey, Ab,” you say as you approach her, thoroughly engrossed in her cartoons, “Is it okay if Mr. H comes over and watches you today while mommy goes to work?”

The question is more than enough to pull her focus from the television screen. Her face lights up like the Fourth of July as she nearly spills her cereal with the force of her straightening on the sofa, “Really?” She asks hopefully.

“Yes, grandma is working and Julia is sick. Is that okay?” As excited as you know she is, you want her verbal confirmation. Mostly because you’d never put your child in a situation she’s uncomfortable in; but a smaller, more selfish part of you wants to be absolved of the guilt you feel for having to leave her all day.

Your wish is granted almost instantly as she squeals and hops off the couch where she’d been lounging, placing her bowl on the coffee table. Halfway to her room, she calls, “Mommy! Where are my coloring books?”

“They’re on top of your bookshelf,” you call, “don’t make a huge mess, please!”

“I won’t!” She replies, muffled through the drywall separating you.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

You hadn’t had time to tidy the house or make yourself look even remotely presentable before Steve arrived. If it weren’t for the relief that floods your body upon seeing his car pull in the driveway, you might even be a little embarrassed. Booted footsteps shuffle up the porch as you’re shoveling things into your bag at the last minute, followed by three light knocks on the door.

“Coming!” You shout from where you stand in the dining room.

Before you even have the chance to reach the foyer, Abbey is darting from her bedroom in plastic play shoes and throwing the door open with immeasurable enthusiasm.

“Hey–” Steve starts, expecting it to be you before he realizes who’s greeting him, “Oh, hi Ab,” he waves to the little face staring up at him, “Where’s your mom?”

“Mommy!” Abbey calls, “Mr. H is here!”

Steve spots you holding two pieces of notebook paper clad with chicken scratch scribblings. You look frazzled– hair thrown up hastily and scrubs wrinkly. He scours the place where he would normally find an emotion akin to pity for your distressed state, but in its absence, he only feels endearment laced with a little concern.

He doesn’t get a word in before you’re shoving the papers in his hands and spouting off information that he’s praying is already on the sheets you’ve given him.

“I should be home by five, if anything happens, this–” you point to a barely legible number, “--is my work phone. This is her doctor’s phone number and she’s allergic to peanuts. There aren’t any peanuts in the house but–” you sigh, exasperated with yourself, “just in case.”

The rest of the pages are filled with ramblings about which channels Abbey likes to watch and how to work the television. How, in case she needs a bath, you have to pull and then twist the knob for the hot water to run. That she is not, under any circumstances, allowed to put nail polish on by herself and where you keep her Epi Pens.

Steve’s surprised at how many of these sentiments he already has catalogued. He’s required to know Abbey’s emergency contacts and that she has a nut allergy for his job, but he knows that channel thirty-seven has the best cartoons because Abbey once told him that Power Puff Girls was her favorite– and you’d already relayed to him the hilariously tragic tale of what happened the last time Abbey attempted to paint her own nails.

Despite this revelation, he doesn’t dare interrupt you. He indulges your ranting, a grin creeping involuntarily along his face.

“-- sorry, I’m rambling– I’ve just never left her with someone who wasn’t my mom or her sitter before,” you’re a little breathless after two straight minutes of talking.

“Hey, hey– you’re okay,” he wastes no time reassuring you, “you know I’d never let anything happen to her.” You nod your understanding, “Besides,” now he’s speaking to Abbey, “we’re gonna have a super fun time right?”

She shouts, “Yes!”

He looks at you with his brows raised, amused, “See?”

“Okay, alright,” you kneel down, chuckling, “do I get a hug? Or am I chopped liver?”

Giggling, Abbey wraps you in a suffocating embrace, like always. Her excitement for Steve has never quelled her affection for you, and you can tell that she’s still hesitant to see you go. You smack a kiss on her cheek, grabbing your bag from the floor as you rise again.

“Swear you’ll call me if anything happens?” You ask him one more time, already knowing the answer.

“Cross my heart.” He smiles fondly, stoking the flames burning bright around the cage that your heart inhabits.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

Your home is cozy, much cozier than anything Steve had growing up. He’s warmed at the idea that Abbey has the privilege of growing up in a house that feels so lived in– stains on the carpet, soft edges and yellow lighting. There’s clutter on the kitchen counter by the microwave and colorful alphabet magnets securing several bright pieces of artwork to the fridge.

“Are these the pictures you drew in art class last week?” He asks Abbey, who has been trailing behind him all through the house, pointing things out to him as they go.

“Uh-huh, Mrs. Morse helped me with that one,” she points to what Steve thinks is probably supposed to be a zebra.

“Well, you’re very talented, I love them,”

“Can we go play outside?” She asks, drawing out the last syllable and completely ignoring Steve’s compliment.

“Sure we can,” he chuckles, “where do you keep your snowsuit?”.

Abbey takes Steve by the wrist and leads him to the coat closet by the front door. Similar to the rest of your house, it’s stuffed to the brim– full of puffy nylon and heavy winter boots. He catches a glimpse of a familiar brown and green jacket– his jacket. You’d promised to wash it and return it to him, but it must’ve slipped your mind. He grins to himself at the reminiscence as he fetches Abbey’s snow gear and shuts the door.

Steve hadn’t dressed appropriately for a morning rolling around in the cold. He had slipped on a pair of your mittens, probably meant more for fashion than practicality, because his fingers were already completely numb. But he can’t seem to deny her when Abbey pleads with him to make snow angels. They’d just spent the past half an hour building two snowmen– one short like Abbey and one tall like Steve, she insisted, as she wrapped her scarf around the snowman that resembled her.

“Please, Mr. H?” She begs when she notices his hesitancy.

“Alright, alright,” he chuckles, “but then we’re gonna go inside and have lunch. Deal?”

That appears to be a good enough covenant for her, “Okay!” Abbey exclaims, falling fairly harshly to the cushioned ground. Steve braces himself for tears, but Abbey only keeps laughing in that contagious way as she begins spreading her arms and legs out beside her in a repetitive motion.

“Are you gonna make one?” She questions from her place on the ground.

He grunts as he reluctantly lowers himself down next to her, anticipating the icy wetness waiting underneath him. The snow seeps uncomfortably through his jeans, but the sound of Abbey’s unbridled joy nearly makes up for his soiled clothing.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

What’d you want to eat, Ab?” Steve calls from the pantry while Abbey changes out of her wet clothes in her bedroom.

“Not hungry!” She calls back.

He sighs, expecting her stubbornness– she was nearly as mulish as you.

“Remember the deal we made earlier?” He asks, “That if I made a snow angel with you, that you’d have to eat something for lunch, right?”

She emerges from her room, pout prominent on her strikingly adorable features, “But I wanna keep playing,” she whines, giving her foot a little stomp on the linoleum for emphasis.

“We can keep playing after, I promise,” he knows he’s not winning this battle without a compromise, “does your mom let you eat in the living room?” He asks with a lilt to his voice that makes him sound conspiratorial.

“Sometimes…”

“How about…” he pauses as if thinking, “I make us some food and we watch a movie while we eat?”

He can tell he’s got her after that– hook, line and sinker. She still pretends to mull over his proposition for a moment before agreeing, “Hmm…I think that sounds good,” she settles, trying and failing to mask her elation.

That’s how Steve ended up, plates of grilled cheese sandwiches in hand, dodging barbies and miscellaneous stuffed animals on his way to the living room a few minutes later.

“Have you found a movie yet?” He asks Abbey as he sets the plates down atop the coffee table.

“Yes but–” she jumps on her tiptoes, “I can’t reach it,”

Steve walks over to the towering shelf of VHS tapes in front of her, “Which one are you trying to reach?”

Abbey points at the tape in question, “Home Alone,”

“Alrighty,” Steve says as he grabs it with ease, “Your foods on the table, go sit while I put it in,”

Abbey, for once, does as he asks– bounding over to the coffee table with the excitement typical of a five-year-old who has an adult's permission to break a house rule.

While Steve eyes your VCR, he catches a glimpse of a photo out of the corner of his eye, causing him to pause. It’s you, no older than twenty, holding a swaddled baby in a sterile hospital room. He doesn’t recognize the picture as one he’s seen before.

Of course you’ve never seen it before, he thinks, you barely know her. Get a grip.

You’re filled with such youthful brilliance in the shot, despite the underlying weariness of having just given birth; your hair tied messily into a bun at the nape of your neck, sweat beading on your brow bone. It’s just you and Abbey, Steve thinks her father must’ve been the photographer.

He can’t help but think of himself at that age and all the stupid shit he was doing. How, if you had handed him a baby then, he wouldn’t have known the first thing about what to do with it– but here you had raised such a bright, healthy daughter and largely alone. He was struck by such a sudden and overwhelming admiration for you that he nearly forgot what he was supposed to be doing.

“Mr. H?” Abbey asked, mouth full, “When are we gonna start the movie?”

Her question sends him hurling back to reality. A reality where he’s your daughter’s kindergarten teacher, and the two of you are friendly with each other at best.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

At some point during the movie, once their lunch was reduced to crumbs on empty plates, Abbey had hauled out her box of coloring books and crayons that she had been looking for this morning.

Steve, the less creative of the two, was coloring in a cartoon illustration of a fairy while Abbey was making her own drawing on a piece of white construction paper. The lack of constant chatter is a welcome reprieve, but he knows that Abbey only becomes quiet when she’s particularly concentrated, so he chances a peek to his right at what she’s working on.

She got a death grip on a brown crayon– shaved almost down to the tip– with her tongue sticking ever so slightly between her lips as she focuses intently on her art.

The picture is of three stick figures– two tall and one significantly smaller in between them. It’s set at what looks to be a playground, a bright yellow sun in the sky and blue scribblings around white clouds. Swings, slides and even a little blue dog adorn the rest of the background.

Pleasantly surprised at her artistry, Steve says, “That looks amazing, Ab!”

She’s snapped out of her stupor, her face split with a wide toothless grin. She doesn’t thank him, only lets out a few bashful giggles at his praise and says, “I like yours too,”

“Is that you?” He points at the littlest figure.

“Mhm, see? I made her hair curly like mine!”

“It looks just like you,” he agrees, then draws her attention to the other figures, “Is this your mom and your dad next to you?”

“This is mommy,” she points, “I put her in the blue clothes she wears at work,” he knows she’s referring to your scrubs, but the phrasing makes him chuckle.

“And this is you!” She circles the figure she’s drawn with the tip of her finger. She’s included his voluminous chestnut hair and his silver wire-framed glasses, even one of the stupid striped polos he wears at school. Looking at it now, it’s obvious who it was supposed to be– but it’s so unexpected that he feels his face heat up at the realization.

“Oh, wow, Ab– That’s–” he grapples to find the words to express the juxtaposition he’s found himself in. He’s honored, truly, to be included in this portrait Abbey’s made of herself and her mother– her family– but there’s a gnawing guilt he can’t seem to shake. The fear that, in some way, he’s replacing her father.

“I love it, Ab, thank you,” he smiles fondly at her work, the proud grin she wears slowly melting the flash freeze of trepidation that encased his conscience.

“Can we hang it on the fridge for mommy to see when she gets home?” She asks after a moment.

“That sounds like a great idea.”

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

Around four o’clock, Abbey begins asking what they’re having for dinner. Steve wonders briefly if you always have to deal with her being so ravenous.

“How about we start cooking now? That way it’ll be ready for your mom when she gets home,”

“Okay,” Abbey concurs. Steve wouldn’t consider himself a Michelin star chef by any means, but he can make a mean chicken parmesan.

A trip to the grocery store was needed to grab some ingredients. After scribbling down the required items on a crumpled receipt, and struggling for ten minutes to get Abbey’s carseat in the back of his BMW, they’re on their way.

He meets her eyes in the rearview mirror, “Do you want me to put on some music?”

“Christmas music?” She asks hopefully.

Steve isn’t the biggest fan of Christmas music– Christmas in general, really– but he obliges her request and turns the dial to their local channel, soft bells and a choir of voices begin to flood through the interior of the car. She really is so harmlessly manipulative with her saucer eyes and round button nose, he can’t seem to refuse her anything.

Steve drives more cautiously than he thinks he ever has, even more so than when he was sixteen and learning how to drive with his family’s Pontiac as his father stared harshly at him from the passenger seat. He comes to a full halt at every stop sign, and he never takes his eyes off the road.

After fighting some early rush hour traffic, they make it. Without a second thought, Abbey grasps Steve’s hand while walking through the parking lot. He tries not to look startled at the sudden contact, recalling how she always seems to have a firm grip on your hand in public spaces too. Steve’s just glad she feels comfortable with him.

“Can I help?” Abbey asks as Steve grabs a cart from the corral.

“Course’,” he smiles, “do you wanna grab the ingredients and put them in the cart for me?”

She bounces excitedly, “Sure!”

Wandering through the aisles, Abbey never strayed from Steve’s side. Every time he read off an item, she would dutifully fetch it and throw it into the cart with a little more force than necessary, but Steve didn’t mind.

“Do you live by yourself?” She asks out of the blue as they peruse the store.

“I do,”

“Then how come you know how to cook?”

He laughs at her inquisitive nature, “Well I have to eat don’t I?”

“Yeah…” she ponders, “I guess so,”

“Alright, the last thing we need is breadcrumbs,” he informs her, scanning the shelves.

Like earlier, Abbey attempts to stand on her tiptoes to try and reach the can in question, “I’m getting it,” she mumbles in determination, very much not getting it.

“Here,” Steve says as he lifts her up by her waist like it was second nature to him.

“Got it!” She exclaims, tossing it in with the rest of the groceries. “Can I ride in the cart now?” She yawns with a polite hand over her mouth. He supposes grocery shopping takes a lot out of you when all the shelves are at least five feet taller than your head.

“Sure,” Steve chuckles as he slots her little legs through the designated holes.

Despite the ride home only being about ten minutes long, Abbey manages to doze off– lulled to sleep by the subtle hum of the car's engine. Steve veered as gently as possible into the driveway, careful not to disturb her even though he was about to wake her up anyway.

“Abbey,” he shakes her softly, “we’re home,”

Abbey rouses, but only slightly. She yawns again and stretches with her arms over her head before extending them out, silently motioning with her eyes still closed for Steve to carry her inside.

“Okay, c’mon lazy bones,” he grunts at the angle but lifts her from her car seat nonetheless. After unlocking the door one-handed, he sets her carefully on the couch and covers her with a plush throw blanket before heading back outside for the rest of the groceries.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

The first thing you notice when you approach your front door is the savory smell of something cooking. Inside, the TV is off and your daughter is sleeping soundly on the couch. Quiet clattering noises flood from the kitchen.

The sleeves of Steve’s burgundy sweater are rolled up to his elbows and the kitchen smells of roasting chicken and mahogany as he stirs a simmering pot of homemade pasta sauce. He’s humming some tune softly under his breath– Bob Segar, you think.

“Hey,” you greet with a grin as you set your bag down on the dining table. Steve turns around to meet you as you ask, “What’re you doing?”

“Cooking?” He replies.

“No, really?” You deadpan back, eliciting an amused chuckle from the man standing at your stove.

“Abbey was asking about dinner,” he pauses, “we were gonna do this whole thing– we were gonna make it for you together, have it ready by the time you got home, but,” he gestures with his arm to the living room where Abbey is napping. Steve Harrington is nothing if not expressive– talking with his hands, eyebrows always either furrowed in concentration or raised in amusement. It’s one of the most charming things about him, you think.

“Well, thank you,” you say, “you didn’t have to do that,” you feel a blush heat your cheeks at how domestic this feels– like you come home to Steve cooking dinner for you and your daughter every night. You can picture it as easily as if it were your actual reality and it leaves you feeling briefly vertiginous. You’re not sure Jeremy ever cooked even one meal for you in the entirety of your relationship.

“The chickens almost done and then I'll get out of your hair,” he assumes a teasing lilt to his voice to disguise the fact that he feels like he’s overstepping– overstaying his welcome or crossing some invisible line.

“Are you kidding?” You scoff, “You’ve gotta at least stick around long enough to see how it came out,”

“You don’t mind?” He asks hesitantly.

“Steve, of course I don’t mind,” honestly, you think you’d start a fire and burn your house to the ground if it meant getting him to stay just a little longer to help you put it out, “plus, I’m sure Abbey’ll be stoked.”

“Alright, well,” he smiles warmly, “it’s ready if you wanna go wake the gremlin up,”

At the table, Abbey insists on sitting next to Steve in the chair across from you.

“This is delicious, Steve,” you compliment.

“Best you ever had?” He teases, but his phrasing makes you choke a little on your pasta.

Abbey makes a twisted face, “The sauce tastes funny.” Saved by the bell.

“Abbey!” you scold playfully, poorly concealing a laugh behind the back of your hand, “Sorry– I think she’s just used to eating Prego,”

“That’s okay– I think she’s right, actually,” he assures you, twisting his expression into something sour and causing Abbey to giggle. His eyes are the color of rich soil as he sends you an oh, so familiar look across the table, communicating another silent thought to you. One that says, I don’t mind how blunt she is, I think it’s endearing.

When dinner is finished, Steve insists on doing the dishes for you too. “You cooked, Steve, let me–” you try to barter.

“--You do enough as it is,” he counters simultaneously.

“You watched my child all day!” You laugh at his stubbornness.

“I do that everyday anyway!” He argues, beginning to fill up the porcelain farmhouse sink with hot, sudsy water.

“At least let me help,” you give him that wide eyed look you always seem to be giving him lately. God, you’re no better than Abbey. “You wash, I’ll dry?”

“Fine,” he tries to frown but his smirk betrays him in his act of faux annoyance.

After a few minutes of stuffy silence, you ask, “She wasn’t too much of a pain in the ass today, was she?”

“Not any more than usual,” he jokes and a plate slips through his fingers, causing a small splash of water to coat your face in dishwater. You gasp at the sensation.

“Oh– Sorry!--” he tries to apologize, but you take your dishwater soaked fingers and flick them in the direction of his own face– small soapy bubbles clinging to his lashes and eyebrows.

“I cannot believe you right now,” he says, wiping his eyes with his sleeve.

“There, now we’re even,” you smirk.

“I’ll let it slide. This time.”

“Mommy!” Abbey rushes into the kitchen, “Can Mr. H stay to watch a cartoon before bed?”

“I don’t know, baby, it’s getting late,” you can just barely see the flash of heartbreak in her gaze before Steve interjects, “It’s okay, I don’t mind staying for a little longer,”

You send him a skeptical glance over your shoulder, but he just nods and asks Abbey what she’d like to watch.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

The end credits for an episode of The Rugrats flashes across the screen, illuminating Abbey’s sleeping face in muted shades of blue and orange. She snores, slumped against Steve’s chest with her arms wrapped around his torso. You sit propped against the other arm of the couch watching them intently– trying to memorize the sight before you. You’ve never seen Abbey cradled like this before by anyone else except you. It wasn’t something you felt you craved until recently.

Steve turns, catching you staring but not calling attention to it. He can count on several hands the amount of times he’s done the same to you– Steve Harrington is many things, but he is not a hypocrite.

“Did you know the guy from Devo wrote the theme song for this?” He gestures towards the television.

“Really?”

“Mhm,” he replies, “I can’t remember who told me that,”

After a few beats of hushed silence, you say, “Should probably put that one to bed– unless you wanna be here all night,” you try to joke but your voice shakes.

He would if you were sincerely asking. He’d stay right here on this uncomfortably worn sofa, with your daughter whom he has such an affinity for, sleeping against his chest for the next millenia. He’d fossilize here if he could– your presence beside him calm and grounding like an anchor in a storm.

He voices none of this. Instead he says, “Do you want to take her?”

“It’s okay,” you wave him off, “I’ll just come with you.” The three of you slowly make your way to Abbey’s bedroom, Steve carrying her bridal style against his torso and the door creaks on its hinges when Steve pushes it open with his hip. She stirs only a little when he sets her down, but is soothed quickly with a firm palm stroking her back a few times.

The door clicks behind you as Steve leads you both back to the living room.

“I should probably–”

“Do you want–”

You begin to speak at the same time, awkward chuckles leaving both of your nervous lips.

“You first,” he offers, scratching the back of his neck.

“I was– just gonna ask if you wanted some wine, but I know it’s late–”

“Wine sounds great.” His lips form a line across his face as he grins.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

Half a bottle of wine split between the two of you, and your hands were tingling from the effort it was taking not to reach out and card your fingers through the hair of the man sitting across from you.

“How come you never called?” He asks suddenly, but not unkindly.

“Hm?”

“You never called– well, not til’ this morning at least,”

“Didn’t know what counted as an emergency, I guess,” you shrug, the alcohol shaking your nerves loose.

He must’ve been feeling in a similar way to you– speaking freely in a way he wouldn’t have before, “Just wanted to talk to you,” he smiles fondly.

“Oh,” you whisper, and when you don’t say anything else, Steve changes the subject.

“I like that photo of you on top of the entertainment center,” he says contemplatively, “you looked really…peaceful,”

“Well, raising a miniature version of yourself tends to age you a bit, I suppose,”

“Can I ask you something?” He asks, testing the waters.

“Always”

“Where was Jeremy in the picture?”

“We always talk about me,” you roll your eyes spiritedly and release a contented sigh, “Tell me why you really came to Maine,”

“Don’t deflect,” he teases.

“C’monnnn,” you draw out the last syllable, “answer,”

“I asked you first,” Steve chuckles.

“Jeremy wasn’t at Abbey’s birth,” you admit, it's immediately like an aching weight removed from the length of your spine– one that's been there consistently for years. “He didn’t even want me to have her,” you scoff humorlessly.

You had told almost no one this before. For the sake of keeping appearances, even after he passed, only your mother and sister knew that Jeremy had pushed for you to terminate your pregnancy when he’d found out; and that only once your daughter was actually born did he want to be involved in her life. The burden felt shockingly easy to lay at Steve’s feet, like someone might confess to a priest. This tender man sitting across from you– whether it was the wine or simply his presence, you aren’t sure– but it felt so effortless to be vulnerable right now. Your soft, white underbelly on display for him to do as he pleases, trusting him to have a gentle touch.

“That fucking sucks,” he knows you well enough by now to understand you’ve never cared for empty platitudes, so he doesn’t bother schooling his bitter, empathetic expression, “M’ sorry,”

Not wanting to dwell on it any longer, you say, “Your turn,”

“My old man was an abusive, drunk asshole,” he says frankly, “I don’t know if I ever saw him sober,” he huffs a laugh but there’s no humor behind it. “I needed to get out– to see what else there was, you know?” He asks, and you nod, “He died in my sophomore year of college. Didn’t even go to the wake.”

“Well, I’m really glad you ended up in this shithole,” he laughs at that, “I think you’re pretty neat, Harrington,”

“Thanks,” he deadpans, “Juries still out on you,” he pokes your side and you giggle like you’re a damn teenager again.

You swat him lightly on his bicep in retaliation, and before you know it, you’ve both succumbed to a fit of contagious laughter. When it begins to die down, you’re closer to him than you’d been before. It steals the breath from your lungs and your heart thrashes inside your ribcage like a wild animal.

You’re gazing at each other now, heads light from the alcohol and dizzy with proximity. His heavy lidded gaze lands on your lips for a second too long, and then he’s pulling your face flush to his own by the sharp edge of your jaw.

It’s a soft kiss, but it’s maddening nonetheless. His lips are plush and smooth– malleable against yours. You huff a surprised breath of air, but don’t pull away. One of his calloused hands is resting firmly on your waist while the other one snakes up tenderly to hold the back of your head. You feel that familiar itch to bury your fingers in his brown tresses, so finally, you do. What realistically only lasts a moment, feels like hours before he’s pulling away, nearly frightened.

When he looks at you, his doe eyes are wide with fear, glassy with the impending fallout of what he’d just done. He stammers, “I’m sorry–that was–” he runs his hands down the length of his guilt twisted face.

“No– Steve, It’s okay, I–”

“I should go–” he says quickly as he slips his shoes and coat on, not even bothering to tie the laces, he grabs his keys, “I’m sorry I’ll– I’ll see you on Monday,”

He’s closing the door behind him before your mind gets the chance to catch up with your mouth. You wished to tell him that it was okay, that you liked it– that you wanted him to stay and never leave again.

But it’s too late. You’re left alone in the stifling air of your living room, half a bottle of wine on the coffee table and your heart on the floor.

taglist - @soulxiez @sadieshairbrush @the-witty-pen-name @ilovetaquitosmmmm @mrsnarnian @negomi123 @micheledawn1975 @cherryc1nnam0n @paleidiot @adaydreamaway30 @twinkling-moonlillie @royalestrellas @jamdoughnutmagician @cali-888 @kolsmikaelson @1deverland @borhapparker @alexa4040 @chiliwhore @weonlysaidgoodbyewithwordss @paddockspookie42 @foxes-n-frogs @j-mlover383

divider cred - @cafekitsune

467 notes · View notes

supernovafics · 4 months ago

Text

𝐎𝐔𝐓 𝐅𝐎𝐑 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐍𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓

"i'll be there for you" universe masterlist

pairing: bestfriend!roommate!steve harrington x fem!reader

word count: 2.7k words

warnings: explicit language, alcohol consumption, jealous!reader, a bit of angst, fluff

summary: in which you don’t expect to feel so bothered seeing steve talk to another girl, but you do

author's note: this was unfinished for months and i finally felt inspired to actually finish it thank god. i'm trying to slowly get back into writing stuff for this series so enjoy this for now<333

general note: everything in this universe/series can be read as standalone oneshots but to understand the full “lore” it would prob be best to read the other stuff too<333

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

Summer 1986

When you first heard about the party, you didn’t think too much about it because your Friday night plans were already settled. A simple movie night in your living room with Steve featuring some of the new arrivals that had just gotten to Family Video. However, you still nodded and said a quick, “Maybe I’ll check it out” to your college friend when she told you about her party and you got the address from her too out of niceness.

It wasn’t until you half-mentioned the party to Robin as you picked through the new arrivals cart during the final hour of her and Steve’s shift that going actually became a possibility.

“Wait, what? A party at a lake house sounds perfect. We have to go.”

Steve was quick to look up from the computer and shake his head at her words. “No way. We already have plans for the night, Robs.”

The eye roll he received in response was immediate. “You two can waste away on the couch any night you want. Tonight we should go to a party.”

You considered her words and nodded after a second. “Yeah, I guess you’re right.”

“Thank you,” She smiled at you before looking back at Steve. “And you need to remember that I’m only gonna be here for a few more weeks, so we need to do as much stupid shit as we can while I am still here.”

You playfully rolled your eyes at her words. “Okay, you can’t keep using the college card like it’s an ‘I only have two weeks left to live’ card.”

“I second that,” Steve agreed. “Also, you keep making it seem like you’re going thousands of miles away. You’re only gonna be an hour away from here.”

“Yeah, well, still, things are changing,” She told you both. “And I wanna have fun before I leave.”

Fun ended up being an understatement.

Barely an hour into the party she was drunk due to one too many cupfuls of whatever punch concoction had been thrown together and put in a big bowl in the kitchen. You and Steve shared one cup of the weirdly sweet drink and then decided to simply settle into the role of babysitting Robin.

You both were currently lingering by a wall and watching as Robin danced with all of the other people crowded in the living room; you vaguely recognized the ABBA song playing. You made a mental note to tell her no if she came running over to you and Steve and proposed the idea of getting another drink.

“This is your fault, you know,” Steve told you, leaning into your ear to be heard over the music. “If you didn’t mention the party to her earlier, you and I would be on the couch watching a movie and eating takeout from Third Street.”

You gave him a sad look coupled with a pouty lip and he immediately felt bad, taking your look to heart. He quickly leaned in to apologetically kiss you.

“Sorry,” He mumbled against your lips.

You were smiling as he pulled away. “You’re too easy.”

He immediately rolled his eyes at you and playfully poked your side, which made you laugh. “And you’re very evil.”

“Sorry, I had to,” You said and initiated the quick kiss that time around. “Anyway, yes, I know this is my fault and I’d kill to have Third Street right now, but look how happy she is.” You gestured in the direction of where Robin was in the packed living room, dancing with all of the other people who you were convinced were at least half-drunk, but you now couldn’t see her. “Wait, shit, where did she go?”

Steve looked around for a second too and then let out a sigh when he also couldn’t spot her. Maybe you two weren’t the best babysitters after all.

“Okay, I’ll check upstairs and you look around down here,” You said to him. “Oh, and maybe grab some water too. She’ll probably need it sooner rather than later.”

Steve gave you a quick nod. “Okay.”

You checked every room upstairs and instead of finding Robin you accidentally interrupted one too many couples making out. After quickly peeking into the last room and mumbling out another “Oops, sorry,” you headed back down the stairs, hoping Steve had better luck than you. You noticed him in the kitchen, two water bottles in hand, and talking to someone who wasn’t Robin but you immediately recognized.

Vanessa. A girl who was in one of your classes last semester and had gone on a handful of dates with Steve at the end of last year.

It was hard to decipher what they were talking about right then, but Steve had a small smile on his face and so did she.

You couldn’t recognize why— or maybe you just refused to admit it right then— but you felt the sudden urge to insert yourself into the conversation; sidle up next to Steve, grab his hand and wrap his arm around you, kiss his cheek or simply plant one on his mouth. Essentially mark your territory for everyone, especially Vanessa, to see. But, you were way too sober to actually consider doing any of that, so you instead looked away from him and went back to searching for Robin.

You found her moments later, sitting on the chair swing on the front porch of the house.

“Hey, Robs, what are you doing out here?” You asked softly as you sat down next to her, trying not to move the swing too much but that proved to be a lot harder than you thought.

Robin didn’t seem to mind, though. Her eyes were closed as she shrugged at your question. “Just wanted some fresh air.”

“Makes sense,” You nodded. “How are you feeling?”

“Good,” Her eyes stayed shut as she answered you. “Sleepy, but at the same time I kinda wanna get another drink and dance some more.”

“I’ll allow the dancing, but I need to be a good babysitter right now and say no more drinking.”

She gave you a quick nod. “The logical side of me knows you’re right.”

Things got quiet for a second and in that moment of quiet you thought about Steve and Vanessa in the kitchen. It seemed as if all your brain wanted to do right then was play that moment on repeat. You could inwardly admit that the conversation had looked completely innocent and probably quite literally meant nothing, but for some reason, it still bothered you.

“A part of me wishes I got drunk with you,” You said to Robin with a sigh and leaned back into the chair.

She smiled at that and looked at you. “You definitely still can.”

Before you could answer, you heard the front door open and subsequently close, and then Steve’s voice filled the brief quiet. “Good. You found her.”

He handed one of the water bottles he was holding over to you. “I grabbed one for you too.”

He the. placed the other bottle in Robin’s lap and she gave him a small smile. “Thanks, dingus.”

If the circumstances were different and your thoughts weren’t confused and scattered, you would’ve shifted over a bit and made room for Steve on the small chair swing, and a random conversation would’ve played out for the next few minutes before you or he suggested leaving. But things weren’t different, so you didn’t.

Steve didn’t think too much of it, though. Instead, he simply asked, “Should we head out?”

You nodded, finally meeting his eyes. “Yeah.”

He looked at Robin. “We’re taking you to our place, right?”

“Yes, please,” She answered, smiling. “You guys are great babysitters.”

She shut her eyes again and Steve looked at you, giving you a smile and you were quick to force one back. It was then that you could tell that he knew something was up with you because of the look he gave you in response to your forced smile, but he didn’t get to ask you what was going on because Robin was abruptly standing up and asking which way the car was.

It wasn’t until you all were finally in Steve’s car and driving away from the party— Robin fell asleep in the backseat almost immediately— that he finally asked.

“What’s wrong?”

You let the question linger in the air for a bit— keeping your eyes focused out the window and letting your fingers mindlessly fiddle with the zipper of your jacket— before you answered him.

“I don’t know…” You mumbled with a shrug and then you sighed and shook your head. “Actually, I do know, but it’s dumb. It’s stupid.”

His right hand moved off of the steering wheel and found one of yours. “You can tell me.”

You knew he was right, but that didn’t make being a thousand percent honest feel any easier in this moment.

“Vanessa was at the party,” You ultimately said, figuring that would be the easiest way to start the conversation.

Steve nodded. “Yeah, we talked for a second.”

“Yeah, I saw,” You said and wanted to end the conversation there, but you knew that you couldn’t. “It kinda annoyed me a bit.”

“What do you mean?” Steve asked, taking a quick look at you.

“I don’t know…” You sighed again. “Just seeing you guys talking was a little annoying, I guess.”

Things got quiet for a second, and that managed to make you get even more inside your head. Maybe Steve thought you were insane or he was even mad at you for feeling this way. This was entirely unchartered territory between you two, so you weren’t entirely sure what his reaction would be.

“Oh,” Steve said as if he was realizing something and then smiled a bit. “You were jealous.”

You immediately rolled your eyes. “Don’t say it like that.”

“Like what?”

You used your free hand to gesture to his face. “With that smile on your face.”

“I think it’s cute that you were jealous,” He told you, pulling your intertwined hands up to his lips so that he could kiss the back of yours.

You shook your head. “No, it’s not.”

“It really is,” Steve said and you decided not to protest him that time around, looking out the window again.

“I love you, by the way,” He continued. “Just in case you forgot.”

That managed to finally get a smile out of you.

“I did forget, actually. Thank you for the reminder,” You joked and then turned to look at him. “I love you too.”

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

Guiding a half-awake Robin from the car to your and Steve’s apartment was a feat in itself, but it somehow worked out. You two helped Robin into your bed instead of letting her take the couch and then you set a glass of water and ibuprofen on the nightstand because you had a feeling she’d need it in the morning.

You changed into your pajamas in Steve’s room, which simply consisted of a t-shirt that you had long ago stolen from Steve and a pair of shorts, and then both you and him settled into his bed.

He had fallen asleep pretty quickly and you thought, or more so hoped, that you would find sleep easily too, but instead, you tossed and turned in bed because you couldn’t seem to shut off your mind. You weren’t entirely sure why you were still feeling a little sulky and weird about everything— Steve didn’t care and he wasn’t upset with you for feeling jealous— but there was something still nagging at the back of your head about the whole thing.

“I know what you’re thinking right now,” You heard Steve sleepily mumble after what felt like an hour of you trying but failing to force yourself to sleep but it was probably only twenty minutes. His arm circled around your waist and he pulled you back against him. “And you should stop it.”

The fact that he could easily read your mind wasn’t surprising and it was probably the only thing that made you feel a little bit okay and made you want to at least attempt to verbalize the thoughts that had been running through your head.

“I just hate being like this. It feels so— I don’t know…” You were then squeezing your eyes shut and pressing your face into the pillow as you admitted, “When I saw you and her talking I really wanted to just go up and kiss you in front of her, so that she knew that we’re together and you’re mine.”

“Mm, you should’ve done that,” He mumbled into your neck. “That would’ve been really hot.”

You finally turned on your side to face him. “Shut up. I don’t know why I just admitted that, honestly. I told you this was stupid.”

“Don't feel embarrassed about it,” He said, somehow managing to sum it all up perfectly; you were feeling embarrassed. “This happens to me all the time.”

You laughed a little. “You don’t have to lie to try and make me feel better about how dumb I'm being.”

“I’m serious,” He told you. “Remember last Thursday when you came to Family Video during the last hour of mine and Robin’s shift?”

When you gave him a quick nod in response, he continued. “I was so annoyed watching you talk to that one guy.”

At first, you weren’t sure what guy he was talking about, but then it hit you. It had been the all too familiar situation where someone thought that you also worked at the store because you were the only one standing behind the counter since both Robin and Steve were stocking shelves. But even after you told this guy that you actually didn’t work there, he kept the conversation going and you laughed and smiled along for a bit to be nice before making up some excuse and retreating to the break room for the rest of Steve and Robin’s shift.

Your eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “You didn’t seem annoyed at all, and we didn’t even talk about it.”

“Yeah, because for like two minutes I felt jealous, but then I remembered that I’m the one you’re with and nothing could change that— especially not some random blonde guy— so…” Steve trailed off with a shrug and smile.

As if flicking a light switch, his words changed everything for you. Once again, he was right; there was nothing that could change what you two had.

“And just so you know,” He continued, voice soft and quiet. “I always feel embarrassed and stupid about it after it happens too.”

You were smiling as you kissed him then, closing the small bit of distance between you two and finding his lips in the darkness that consumed his room.

“I can’t believe you’re turning out to be the rational one out of the two of us,” You joked when you pulled back from the kiss and proceeded to bury your face into his neck and completely entangle your body with his. “I love you.”

“I love you too,” He whispered back and pressed the softest kiss to your shoulder before he started to pull away from you. You immediately pouted at him in protest but he continued, pulling the blanket off of both of you and getting out of bed. “It’s only midnight. Let’s do what we were actually supposed to do tonight.”

Hearing him say that made you follow suit and get out of bed too, a small smile tugging at your lips. “Movies and Third Street?”

Steve was nodding as he walked over to you, arms slipping around your waist and pulling you close to him. “Yup.”

“That’s a great idea,” You whispered, looking up at him. “But, no funny business on the couch, though. The walls are way too thin and we’ll never hear the end of it from Robin if she hears anything.”

“Okay,” Steve said, and then proceeded to kiss your forehead and then both of your cheeks and then your neck; all of which made you softly laugh. “Sorry, just needed to get those out of the way first.”

You gave him an understanding nod that you hoped looked as serious as you wanted it to be, but there was a wide smile on your face as you spoke. “Okay, yeah, makes sense.”

He gave you one final kiss, that time against your lips, and then he was pulling away from you and heading toward his shut door. Your arms circled around him from behind as you followed him out into the living room.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

let me know ur thoughts<333

(requests are open for stuff you wanna see in the universe/series!🫶🏾)

#steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x fem!reader #steve harrington smut #steve harrington fic #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington x you #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington angst #steve harrington series #stranger things imagine #stranger things fluff

446 notes · View notes

moonpascaltoo · 10 months ago

Text

steve harrington

MASTERLIST • STRANGER THINGS • 06/24/24

˚‧⁺ ･ ˖ · ୨ৎ recs

ao3 I two I three

𑣲 give me a night, i'll make you I @upsidedownwithsteve

Steve teaching reader how to really kiss? Like she’s only ever had bad ones before?

𑣲 my name is whatever you decide part 2 I @/upsidedownwithsteve

old money steve, an infatuated waitress, no labels, a disaster waiting to happen. some smut, some jealousy and too many mentions of monaco.

𑣲 she drives me crazy part 2 I @/upsidedownwithsteve

summer camp, broken kayaks, too much tension and that boy you hate. an enemies to lovers camp counsellor story.

𑣲 meet me in the afterglow part 2 I @/upsidedownwithsteve

another year at summer camp, more broken kayaks, a change of plans, a lot of wondering. meet us in the afterglow.

𑣲 grumpy x sunshine I @/upsidedownwithsteve

𑣲 because of you part 2 I @crappymixtape

enemies to lovers

𑣲 I knew you'd linger like a tattoo kiss I @andvys

Steve was slipping through your fingers and you desperately held onto him not realizing that his heart wasn’t yours anymore. Dealing with the aftermath of your breakup turns out to be harder than you thought. Steve’s presence still lingers and while he keeps a hold of your heart, someone else sneaks their way into it too.

𑣲 second chance I @astermath

steve decides to ask out the girl who he keeps seeing around hawkins with her nose in a book. he’s a little surprised when he gets brutally rejected, only to find out his “king steve” era is haunting him more than he expected. he attempts to make it up to you and show you he’s changed, even if it takes him a couple of tries.

𑣲 hurt feelings part 2 I @munsonson

Eddie breaks up with the reader for being boring, giving her the impression they just weren’t right for each other. Unfortunately for him, he realizes too late how big of a mistake this was.

𑣲 king!steve & shy!reader I @lovebugism

the one where king steve keeps his best girl a secret

𑣲 shy!reader I @/lovebugism

steve finds out the cute girl at the record store likes him and decides to bring her ice cream as a proclamation of love.

𑣲 comfort request I @/lovebugism

𑣲 king!steve & shy!reader I @/lovebugism

steve comforts you when he accidentally makes you flinch

𑣲 shy!reader I @/lovebugism

steve helps his shy gf celebrate her very first valentine's day

𑣲 shy!reader I @/lovebugism

𑣲 jealously, jealously I @/lovebugism

steve doesn't realize he's in love with you until he gets a glimpse of you with someone else

𑣲 more than just friends I @scoopsahoy

you and your best friend have gotten into the habit of making out, as long as there's no touching. but that's easier said than done

𑣲 tell me you love me part 2 I @upsidedownmvnson

𑣲 absolutely smitten I @starryeyedstories

There’s a new crew member at Scoops Ahoy and Steve might have a crush.

𑣲 the aftermath I @starcourtsteves

After the Battle of Starcourt, Steve and the Henderson siblings go back to the Henderson house for a sleepover so Steve and the reader are catching up/finally relaxing in bed (she was with the Kids and Steve in the Russian base). Dustin eventually crashes in his sister’s room for mutual comfort.

𑣲 angsty request I @ashwhowrites

𑣲 illicit affairs I @nervoushottee

You wish you were enough for Steve, but he will always want Nancy.

𑣲 go for it I @/nervoushottee

Steve has been your “movie guy” at Family Video for a while now. Little does he know that the main reason you’ve been buying these movies is to flirt with him and just maybe ask him out…

𑣲 stories tucked away I @harringtown

AU in which the reader is pulled into the Stranger Things world. With the knowledge of how the story ends, they try to change the script and save the characters they’ve come to love. But this isn’t just a show, anymore, and destiny isn’t easily affected, even if that destiny was written by a pair of grown-up film kids (aka a self-aware reader, the same old gang, the same old monsters, eventual steve/reader, and a few surprises)

𑣲 right person wrong time I @fleurrreads

𑣲 golden hour I @plainemmanem

𑣲 comparing hand sizes I @loveshotzz

𑣲 i guess its never really over I @/loveshotzz

Convinced by your best friend to return to Hawkins for the summer, nothing is like how you left it five years ago, including the boy you’ve done nothing but try and forget.

𑣲 (its not like) hes my boyfriend I @luveline

Steve hears you wrong, thinks he’s your boyfriend, and begins to act accordingly. You try your best to go along with it until you can’t anymore

𑣲 a stranger valentine I @fictionalthrill

Steve puts himself out there on Valentine's Day

𑣲 alt!reader I @princekeerys

𑣲 do you want to be my valentine I @certifiedlovergirlsstuff

𑣲 oh, you didn't know I @stevie-petey

steve is pathetically in love with you and for some reason the universe hates him and continues to pray on his downfall. typical.

𑣲 jealous!steve I @/stevie-petey

𑣲 steve blurb I @/stevie-petey

𑣲 wrong address I @ash5monster01

Three dozen roses have just been delivered to your door on accident, in attempts to find the sender and correct the mistake, you discover you might have just found your match.

𑣲 think i need someone older I @lesservillain

𑣲 borrowing I @/lesservillain

𑣲 hot for teacher part 2 I @handful0fteeth

you’re going on your first date with steve harrington, and hours before he’s due to pick you up your best friend gives you some rather unsavory information.

𑣲 breaking the silence I @keerysfreckles

𑣲 time after time I @/keerysfreckles

steve's longing glance to y/n makes him decide to stay at the hawkin's middle school snow ball.

𑣲 reunions I @/keerysfreckles

during spring break of 86, y/n hopper flies back to hawkins indiana (dustin's request) and isn't surprised when dustin tells her the world might end again.

𑣲 where i lay down I @captainmarvels

Steve has one year left to get you to talk to him, and he doesn’t realize how much he loves the game until you let him win.

𑣲 a case of you I @/captainmarvels

When you catch Steve’s eye from across the mall, all he can think about is you. Will he garner up the courage to say hi, or will your flirtatious banter remain an unspoken thing?

𑣲 home away from home I @/captainsmarvels

When you and Dustin leave Steve alone for half the summer, he realizes just how much he loves his two favorite people.

𑣲 the keg stand I @jurassicbarnes-archives

In which you take a stand to protect your best friend’s reputation.

𑣲 eventually I @/jurassicbarnes-archives

In which you break up with Steve but a series of unfathomable events eventually lead up to you wanting him back.

𑣲 coy I @/jurassicbarnes-archives

In which you make the first move (and Robin wins a bet)

𑣲 next best thing to an angel I @slashersteve

Reader has been cursed by Vecna, and the group has to work fast in order to find a way to rid her of it. There's too many close calls, and just when they thought they had it figured out...it just might be too late.

𑣲 stuck with me I @/slashersteve

you and Steve have been through some tough shit, but it was always together. This time, it really seems like you’re going to die and Steve doesn’t want to die without telling you something first.

𑣲 some kind of disaster I @/slashersteve

Reader and Steve have been together for a few weeks now, and she runs into a person she had a fling with once. That person was Billy Hargrove, and it’s the first Steve’s hearing of this.

𑣲 ahoy there I @/slashersteve

Steve keeps striking out with girls, and Robin is having a time about it. The score for the day is 0-5, and then you approach the counter and suddenly it becomes 1-5.

𑣲 lets kiss I @/slashersteve

It might be the end of the world, and you're for some reason worried about having never been kissed. Steve decides to change that.

𑣲 five tickets I @/slashersteve

Steve couldn’t pass up a chance to be able to kiss you, even if there is a price.

𑣲 how to fake it part 2 part 3 I @munsonluhvr

In an attempt to cover up a lie and make his ex-gf jealous, Steve enlists you, his best friend, to fake date him.

𑣲 whats wrong with being confident I @/munsonluhvr

king!steve harrington x confident!reader. after setting his eyes on you in the cafeteria, steve, and all of his ego, pursues you; though you don't fall to your knees quite as easy as the other hawkins high girls.

𑣲 angsty steve blurb I @str4ngergirlw0rld

𑣲 grumpy x sunshine I @steveharringtonat3am

𑣲 alone with....him I @buckylattes

You get locked in a store with Steve(thanks to him being an idiot) and you’re not sure how long it’ll take to get out…but something else gets out before you guys do. Thankfully it stops your arguing and hate for each other.

#steve harrington #stranger things #steve harrington series #steve harrington angst #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington smut #steve harrington masterlist #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington imagine #stranger things x reader #steve harrington oneshot #steve harrington drabble

715 notes · View notes

superblysubpar · 9 months ago

Text

series masterlist | part two ->

chapter summary: A bet is proposed.

the song: honey by halsey

2,563 words | please see the masterlist for general warnings | my blog is 18+

Hawkins, Indiana - the past

Your fingers tightened around the handlebars, palms damp and grip too loose for your liking. A deep furrow seems permanent between your brows, resting under the cherry red plastic that brought you into this mess. Their words ringing in your ears like a jingle of a commercial - annoying and unable to ignore if you tried.

“What a girl - she needs a helmet to ride a bike?”

And if that comment alone wasn’t bad enough, Steve Harrington had to chime in. Leaning over his own handlebars, smirking, daring you to challenge him.

“What you need it for anyways? Not like you were planning to go down the destroyer. Bet you were just going to Benny’s for ice cream.”

The other boys had snickered, Steve’s smirk grew into a full wattage, cocky, grin. That is until you lifted your chin, kicked up dust directly at him as you turned your bike and said:

“Cute you still call it the destroyer. I’ve been biking down that hill for years. How about I show you and buy you an ice cream cone afterwards Harrington?”

Boys ‘oo’ed’, Steve’s jaw clenched, and your chest filled with some sort of powerful and addicting feeling as you biked towards your lie.

Which now sits in front of you. The legend so aptly named by the Hawkins population of thirteen and under due to it’s sheer height and the gravel that sat below it. A hill way out near the Quarry, it took half the day to bike there and back - if you still had your bike after that is. It was the tallest point in Hawkins aside from a grassy hill teens would sneak away to.

From the top of the destroyer, you could see the whole town, all the way down to the bottom of the Quarry, the road, and where it turned to gravel to lead to the sort of landing at the base of the pit.

It was the point the hill turned to gravel that truly gave the bike killer its name. If one somehow got the courage, or in your case straight up stupidity and false confidence for brains, to decide to go down the hill, your speed by the time you reached the bottom would be too much and the gravel was a relentless enemy.

You’d heard stories of bikes skidding, of scratched up, bruised limbs. There was even a tale of one boy who toppled over his handlebars and popped his shoulder out of place.

And you’d told Steve Harrington you’d been going down it for years.

“Hey.”

His voice was far quieter than you were used to hearing, like he wanted you to have to lean in and listen to what he was about to tell you.

When you turned to tell him you didn’t care for what he had to say, you were shocked to find his cheek pulled between his teeth, wavy hair pushed up at odd angles like he’d run his hands through it a few too many times. Steve wrapped his fingers around his own handlebars tighter, like if his grip was strong enough, yours would be too, straddling his bike next to yours and gulping as he looked down the hill.

“What?” You finally asked, fingers toying with the straps of your helmet.

“I don’t think you should do this…”

As the boys whispered behind you, you frowned and didn’t dare think about how Steve’s voice wobbled a little, like there was some real emotion behind the warning.

Like he cared.

“I’m truly touched you were able to scrounge up enough brain cells to force a thought, but I have never and will never care what you think Steve Harrington.”

That same swelling feeling of triumph filled your chest when the other boys laughed and Steve’s ears started to turn as red as your helmet.

Steve ignored the laughing, voice a twinge stronger than before as he said, “You’re gonna get hurt.”

“I’ve done this hundreds of-“

Steve said your last name, grabbed your handlebars. His golden eyes burning with something as he practically begged you to listen to what he was trying to say.

“You’re being stupid.”

From this close, you could see more freckles along the bridge of his nose, see that his eyes weren’t brown but had a little green in them. You could smell lemonade and sunblock and something about it all made you panic. Made you push him off and add extra bite to your tone, hoping your words stung him.

“Yeah? Well, you’d know all about stupid, Harrington.”

And then you pushed off, the call of your name drowned out by the wind rushing past your ears.

Hawkins, Indiana - the present

Your eyes roll almost in time with Harrison Ford’s. A man who’s currently on the suspended screens because he has some weird thing about a movie with him being on while he’s flirting. Like Harrison’s energy is in the store with him, a guiding wingman.

What a tool.

Eddie’s lips quirk up in a lopsided smirk across from you when your shoulders tense at the shrill giggle to your left. You roll them back, then your head from side to side. Your fingers meet to form the goal post again, elbows sticking to laminated sheets screaming about summer deals and most definitely some sort of residual soda spill.

“So,” a deeper voice than what you know it to typically sound like catches the tail end of the giggle, “If I were to call this number right now-“

“I’m not home, silly,” another forced giggle interrupts.

Eddie sighs when you straighten up again, your teeth snapping at a red vine as you watch the hand reach forward and tuck a perfect blonde ringlet behind an ear, then linger.

“Well,” he leans in, voice stickier than the honey of his eyes, “If you were home…I’d call you.” He taps the tip of her nose with the pad of a finger, then flashes a smile brighter than the overhead fluorescents. “And ask you if you’d be free for a movie tonight?”

Robin snorts next to your ankle behind the counter. Green vest covered shoulders rising as they shake with somewhat silent laughter and her head hides between her knees, tapes scattered on the floor around her.

Your head shakes back and forth in baffled amazement. It’s like an accident - you can’t help but watch the wreck that’s about to-

“And if I were home to answer, I’d tell you to pick me up at 7.”

The red vine falls from your mouth onto the counter, as you watch a little piece of paper leave manicured fingers and slip into the front pocket of his gray polo.

A paper football smacks your nose as Eddie sighs out of his. As her hips sway under tight denim, haloed by the bright sunshine when the trill of the door chimes on her exit, the overpowering scent of vanilla and peaches continues to suffocate.

Steve Harrington turns to you all with a cocky grin. He pulls the digits scrawled in loopy font out of his pocket and nestles it between brown leather and green bills before returning the wallet to his back pocket with a pleased sigh.

“Oh yeah, I’m back.”

And then he high fives the TV.

Not just a tool - a whole box of them.

Steve turns when you snort, eyebrows raised at you as he takes his place behind the counter again.

“Something funny?” He asks, reaching toward your box of red vines.

“Real funny,” you admit, snatching them closer, “That you think anything about that interaction means you’re back.”

Your waist hits the counter as you step out of his reach when he takes another forward with a tilted head. His fingers just miss the red candy when he huffs.

“Enlighten me, babe.”

“Don’t,” you hiss, “Call me babe.”

The counter digs into your back, Steve leans in closer, mint and cedar beginning to overpower the peaches, and you hate that you don’t mind the difference.

Steve’s lips smirk, a freckle just above his top one lifting as he tsks, “Wow. Not gonna even acknowledge my big brain word?”

“Would you like a round of applause, Harrington, for correctly using the word enlighten?”

He grins, he nods, his fingers snatch a piece of the licorice up, “Yeah. Yeah I would.”

You catch the end of the candy, shaking your head with a scoff. “She called you big boy.”

Robin, whom you don’t want to admit you’d forgotten was even behind the counter with you, sighs, loudly.

“Wow. Thanks. I had just forgotten.”

Steve tugs on the candy between the two of you with raised eyebrows and a look of annoyance. “And?”

You tug harder, and Steve dares to take another step closer with it, knuckles brushing yours that lay limply next to thighs almost touching.

“And, that means you didn’t do a thing except let rumors of what’s underneath your too tight Levi’s spread like the rash you’ve probably given to half this town.”

Another tug of the candy, though gentler this time, pulls you closer, plastic crinkling against your abdomen as he proudly whispers, “Not rumors, babe.”

“Call me babe,” you practically growl, “One more time. See what happens.”

“Okay,” Steve tilts his chin in a challenge, fingers twitching on the candy, “Ba-“

The red licorice disappears with a flash of silver metal, snapped between white teeth before it’s waved around dramatically.

“While this is super fun to watch. She’s not wrong Stevie.” Eddie shrugs.

Steve takes a step back, red Nike swoosh flashing as he kicks at thread bare carpet. “Sure. She’s never wrong.”

You have to physically stop yourself from sticking your tongue out at him.

Eddie hoists himself up onto the counter, chain tapping and clanking against things as he gets down just as quickly he sits when you snap your fingers and point to the ground.

He raises his hands in surrender at you, then waves at Steve with a squint of big, brown eyes.

“You’re not back. You barely had to put in any work with that cutie. She was making heart eyes at you from the parking lot, man.”

Steve holds his arms out at his sides, like he’s innocent. “Just because girl’s know I have a sizeable-“

“Ew,” you snap another bite of candy.

“Appendage-” Steve continues, ignoring you.

“You’re sick,” Robin delivers in a monotone from her stack sorting.

“And they know I know what I’m doing with it,” Steve talks over Robin in their well-oiled banter, “Doesn’t mean I don’t have to work hard.” Steve dares to place his fingers over his chest and continue with pride dripping from each word, like he truly believes and is proud to say, “I still have to put in the work to look good, to flirt and think on my feet. I have to pull out the Harrington charm. It’s not my fault I have more than other guys to work with.”

Eddie ponders what Steve is saying thoughtfully, he places his hands behind his back and paces, nodding his head carefully.

“Maybe so,” Eddie sighs dramatically, gesturing with a bow to Steve, “We cannot all be gifted with such well-endowment.”

“I truly hate it here,” Robin says to the ceiling while Steve beams.

You tilt your head at Eddie, trying to figure out where he’s going before he gets there.

He slaps his hands on the counter, metal clanking against glass displaying candy as he proclaims, “I propose a challenge.”

Steve snorts, crossing his arms and leaning against the counter next to you, his elbow nudging yours. “What, like a duel?”

Your eyes roll as you dig your elbow into his, pushing him away.

“Intriguing, but maybe another time. I’m fresh out of jousting materials I’m afraid,” Eddie grins. “No, I think, to really know if you’re back, to prove this,” he waves his hands at the entirety of Steve, “All takes real work and you’re not just coasting on what the good lord gave you, you’d need to use it on someone who’s unsuspecting. Someone,” Eddie purses his lips, “Who isn’t already swooning over the mere thought of you.”

Robin spins, blue eyes alight with intrigue. “Hold on. I’m listening.”

Steve tilts his head, “You want me to get the number of a girl who hates me?”

Robin grins like it’s the best things she’s ever heard, but Eddie shakes his head, tugging on a curl. “No. Too easy. I think you need to sleep with her.”

Your mouth drops open in disbelief and Robin whistles low and slow.

Eddie pretends to hold up a scroll, reading from air in a theatric voice, “I, Eddie Munson, declare that Steve Harrington cannot get the next girl to walk through this door of thy Family Video to have sex with him. The rules shall be that Harrington may only pursue said girl after careful consideration of her un-swoonability by yours truly, and will have one week to prove his charming capabilities. The stakes? One hundred dollars. Does Steve Harrington accept such a bet?”

You scoff, “You’re both not actually making a bet on-“

Steve’s hand slaps into Eddie’s, both boys smirking as they shake on it. Steve waves his other hand in the air, all nonchalant while confidence oozes out of him. “Next girl that walks through that door, I’m going to fuck. Easy.”

“Unbelievable, You’re both unbelievable.” Your words are lost on deaf, egotistical ears.

Eddie nods, he grins with shoulders raised at Steve. “Right. Since you’re back, easy peasy.”

“Her ass and tits will be squeez-ied.”

Robin boos, cupping a hand around her mouth.

You gesture to her, “That? That’s what you finally have a problem with?”

Robin shrugs, grinning, “I’m off the clock in one minute. Then he’s your problem.” She looks at Eddie, “Still able to give me a ride home?”

Eddie nods, “I am but only the ladies driver,” he turns to you with a snap, “Speaking of, think you left your vest in my van, doll.”

“Oh shit, thanks,” you bounce around the counter as Robin heads into the back. The door chimes as you squint into the late afternoon summer sun, sneakers kicking pebbles on the way to Eddie’s van, when it hits you. Suddenly. Wonderfully. Beautifully.

Your vest is sitting on the counter next to your red vines.

You spin, gravel crunching beneath your heels as you look at the front of the store.

Heavy steps thud against the ground as you race towards it, meeting a frantic Steve at the set of glass double doors.

He grips the handles, wild eyes and shaking his head no, as he holds them closed and you tug to open them, grinning.

Eddie bows behind Steve as Robin cackles.

“What’s the matter Harrington,” you call through the doors, enjoying the way his jaw pulses, “Why can’t I come inside? Enlighten me.”

Steve’s gaze traces your face, it lingers on your smile before it meets your eyes.

A challenge in both sets of glares, neither of you willing to back down.

He let’s his hands fall from the handles and rest on his hips as the chime trills overhead with your step inside.

You bat your eyelashes, you press the back of your hand to your forehead and pretend to faint against the glass.

“Good luck, big boy.”

Tag List - thanks for your endless patience and excitement for this, but please let me know if you'd no longer like to be tagged:

@ash5monster01 @madaboutjoe @foreverinwanderlust @the-fairy-anon @scarletwitchgf

@curlsincriminology @siriuslysmoking @redbarn1995 @starry--sarah @starksbabie

@taccobelle @angst-lasagna @blckburd @crownofdecit

#superbly subpar's writing #BICFTF #steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington series #steve harrington fic

431 notes · View notes

pretentious-blonde · 4 days ago

Text

first chapter

pairing: steve harrington x reader

summary: steve stops by the bookshop for his students and leaves an impression—one that lingers when the reader sees just how much he cares about them

warnings: literally none, steve is a softie!!

a/n: here we go again! short and sweet intro chapter before we get to the good stuff. also i was grinning at my screen writing steve interacting with the kids <3

series masterlist

The morning bird song filtered through the lace curtains draped across the front windows of your grandmother’s old bookshop—now your bookshop.

The wooden floors, worn by decades of footsteps, creaked quietly beneath your shoes. You had just flipped the sign to declare that, yes, you were open for business, though not a single soul was out on the pavement yet. The serenity of a small town in the early hours felt soothing, and you allowed yourself to breathe in the stillness of the morning.

Upstairs in the modest flat you now called home, the kettle had whistled only moments before, providing you with a simple comfort—a warm cup of coffee. Steam rose from the mug like a contented sigh, warming your fingers and your chest.

As you descended the short flight of stairs to the shop, you couldn’t help but marvel at how seamlessly your new life in Hawkins had begun to take shape. Yes, there were boxes you still hadn’t fully unpacked and occasional bursts of Midwest weather that threatened your peace, but on mornings like this, you felt sure you had made the right choice.

This shop, bequeathed to you in your grandmother’s will, carried a deep history and charm. You had wrestled with the idea of selling it—a practical move, some might say—but the thought of parting with such a beloved space felt entirely wrong. So here you were, two months into a life of dusting ancient shelves, cataloguing novels by authors known and unknown, and greeting the locals who had begun to trickle in as regulars.

It wasn’t always smooth sailing. The old filing system your grandmother had used was more a labyrinth than a library, with handwritten ledgers that offered few clues. But slowly, day by day, you’d learned to navigate her quirks, an exercise that felt like stepping into her shoes and forging a path of your own.

You settled in behind the counter, a cosy nook framed by shelves of bestsellers and classics alike. The lighting was soft, mostly amber-hued floor lamps with tasseled shades that cast an inviting glow. Mismatched cushions had found their way onto plush armchairs and vintage sofas arranged in corners throughout the space. It felt less like a store and more like a living room that just happened to sell books.

To you, that was precisely the point—somewhere quiet, welcoming, and full of potential.

Taking a careful sip from your coffee, you let yourself sink into a well-worn seat behind the register. There was a quaint luxury in these early moments, before the day’s customers arrived, and you cherished the silence. A part of you wondered if you should tackle the stack of new releases that needed shelving, but the comfort of your chair—and the lingering caffeine aroma—kept you rooted in place.

You reached under the counter and pulled out a paperback you’d been meaning to read. The cover teased an enchanting story, and you were eager to get lost in it.

It never occurred to you that someone might stroll in so soon after opening. Eight o’clock in Hawkins seemed far too early for anything but coffee. Still, the unexpected had become more common these days, and the jingle of the bell over the door startled you from your first page. It rang out, clear and bright in the morning quiet, signaling the arrival of your first customer of the day.

He didn’t exactly look like the typical morning browser, appearing slightly out of breath from the chill outside. His cheeks were tinged pink, the tip of his nose a little red, and his hair—once styled impeccably—looked tousled by the wind. A muted green jumper peeked out from beneath a casual jacket, and he wore well-fitted jeans that bore faint traces of scuff at the knees. He hovered for a moment near the threshold, glancing around as though making sure he was in the right place.

The glow of your shop seemed to settle around him, beckoning him inside. You could see the tension in his shoulders lessen when he realised he wasn’t intruding on some hidden enclave but rather stepping into a homey space. He offered a tentative half-smile when he caught sight of you behind the counter.

“Uh, hi,” he began, clearing his throat as if to ground himself.

“Hello,” you returned, offering a welcoming smile.

His eyes flickered across your face, taking in your kind expression, before he schooled himself into polite cordiality—reminding himself he had come here for a reason, not just to gawk at the cute new bookseller.

“Yeah, I… I was wondering if you could help me,” he said, voice soft.

You closed the book you’d been reading and placed it to the side, standing from your chair to greet him more fully.

“What can I do for you?”

He cleared his throat once more—nervous habit, perhaps—and gestured loosely at the shelves behind you.

“You’re not… the usual lady who runs this place.”

“No, I’m not. I, uh, took it over recently,” you chuckle, trying to keep the note of sorrow out of your voice as you thought of your late grandmother. “Just reopened it a couple of months ago.”

“Huh,” he said, nodding, clearly absorbing that bit of information. “Good to know.” He paused, seeming to gather his thoughts. “I’m looking for some kids’ books.”

The corners of your mouth lifted in a gentle smile. “Kids’ books?”

“Yeah,” he confirmed, stuffing his hands into his jacket pockets. It was a little awkward, the way he rocked on his heels, as though not entirely sure how to stand.

You offered to show him the children’s section, stepping out from behind the counter and leading him through a short row of middle-grade novels. The far corner of the shop was dedicated in bright colors, whimsical cover art, and lower shelves that invited small hands to grab at storybooks.

“This is where we keep the children’s section,” you said, sweeping your hand over the shelves. “How old are yours?”

He blinked in surprise, eyes widening.

“Oh—oh, I don’t… I’m not— I don’t have any.” A flush of pink returned to his cheeks, and he quickly added, “I need them for work.”

“Work?” Your brows arched in curiosity.

“Yeah, I’m a teacher. Second grade,” he explained. “My kids—they’re around seven or eight.”

“Ah,” you breathed, nodding. “That makes sense.”

Turning back to the shelves, you placed a hand on the upper row of picture-heavy chapter books.

“These are aimed at eight-to-ten-year-olds,” you said, tapping a few titles you recognised as popular, “and these down here,” you crouched to point out another set, “are a bit younger, around five to seven.”

He followed your gestures intently, glancing between you and the books. You didn’t miss the slight dart of his eyes, noticing the way he took you in with a curiosity and—appreciation? Though he seemed quick to hide it.

“Honestly, I’m not super well-versed on the new stuff,” he admitted, the confession made all the more sweet by his earnest tone. “What would you recommend?”

You straightened up and began scanning the spines.

“Well, we have a few encyclopedias that are really engaging for that age group—lots of pictures, fun facts. The classics, too—Roald Dahl, E.B. White. They never go out of style.”

“Perfect, yeah,” he said, nodding along, already imagining reading the stories aloud. Then, almost unprompted, his eyes lit up in a flash of recognition. “Oh—there’s this one book I read as a kid, about a boy who, uh… posted himself through the mailbox or something?”

The excitement in his voice was contagious, and you couldn’t help but giggle, your own smile widening. In that moment, you saw how approachable he was—a man who loved sharing a piece of his childhood with his students. His face reddened at your soft laughter, but he seemed more embarrassed by his enthusiastic outburst than upset.

“Flat Stanley,” you offered, the name rolling easily off your tongue.

“That’s the one!” He looked almost triumphant. “Man, my mom used to read that to me all the time, can’t believe I forgot the name.”

“I don’t think we have a physical copy right now.” You scanned the rows but shook your head. “But I can get it delivered if you’d like?”

Relief washed over his features as he released a breath he probably hadn’t realised he was holding.

“Oh, thank God,” he said, smiling. “That’s great. Didn’t want them to be disappointed.” His gaze flickered over you for a moment.

“Why don’t you just borrow from the library?” You tilted your head.

He rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly.

“Well… we tried, but the books kind of got destroyed. Kids that age can be… a lot,” he explained with a dry chuckle, eyes crinkling at the memory. “The librarians and I have come to a mutual agreement that I should probably source my own copies.”

“I see.” You couldn’t help but grin, picturing a bunch of rambunctious kids flipping through pages with sticky fingers, leaving chaos in their wake. “That can happen.”

Standing next to him as he peered intently at the spines, you felt a fondness bloom for this stranger who cared enough about his class to restock his own library.

He wasn’t exactly bad to look at either. You almost envied his students, getting to see him like this every day—but you quickly redirected your thoughts before they could wander too far. You were supposed to be helping him out, not gawking while he tried to do something sweet.

A quiet fell between you, his profile illuminated as he studied each title.

“Hey,” you offered gently, feeling brave, “if you want, I could pick out a selection for you and order them in? Might be easier than you spending your whole Saturday leafing through everything.”

“Really? That would be… amazing, actually.” His face lit up at the suggestion, and the gratitude in his eyes made something flutter pleasantly in your chest.

“Of course,” you said, gesturing for him to follow you back to the counter. You made your way around to your usual spot, grabbing a pen and a patterned notepad.

“Alright,” you began, poised to write. “Do you have a budget for these?”

“Not really,” he answered, shrugging one shoulder. “I figure about ten books, give or take. Whatever you recommend. I want to cover all the bases.”

You jotted down a note, nodding in approval.

“No problem.” You glanced up at him. “Any particular genres you had in mind?”

“No, just a little bit of everything. Some nonfiction to keep ‘em curious, few adventure stories… Maybe some silly stuff too.” His eyes narrowed thoughtfully. “Kids love silly.”

“Silly, got it.” You chuckled, writing that down. “And where should I send them? Or—what school was it?”

“Hawkins Elementary.” He smiled, almost proudly, and you wondered for a moment if he had grown up around here.

“Makes sense,” you murmured, scribbling another note. Then you paused, pen poised above the page. “And can I have a name?”

“Oh! Right, sorry. It’s uh, Steve. Steve Harrington.”

Repeating his name softly as you wrote it, you offered him a warm, reassuring look. Steve Harrington. It had a certain ring to it. The corners of your lips curved up as you thought about how well ‘Harrington’ would look on the small slip you’d attach to his order.

He swallowed, finding your attention unexpectedly disarming.

“Alright then, Steve. When do you need these by?”

“As soon as possible,” he admitted, looking a bit helpless. “If that’s alright, I’d love to have them by Monday—though I know that’s short notice.”

You checked the small calendar pinned to the side of the counter and tapped the date lightly.

“We’re closed Mondays, so I can have them delivered then—no problem at all.”

“You can?” His relief was so palpable it made you laugh. “You’re a lifesaver.”

“I’ll do my best.” The warmth in your voice matched the gratitude in his eyes.

He lingered a moment, as though he wanted to say something else—perhaps ask more questions or keep chatting, but he caught himself, clearing his throat again.

“Thank you,” he repeated, more quietly this time. “For all your help.”

You waved off the formality. “That’s what I’m here for.”

He gave a small nod, a smile tugging at his lips. Before he turned to leave, he lifted a hand in a goodbye wave. You echoed the motion, finding the gesture unexpectedly sweet. As the door swung open, letting in a brief gust of cold air, you could see how his cheeks coloured once again in the bracing wind.

The bell jingled to mark his exit, and you simply watched the door close behind him. He trudged back onto the pavement, jacket pulled snug. He allowed himself a quick glance through the front window, catching one last glimpse of you looking after him with that gentle smile. A slight flutter caught him off-guard—relief at having found exactly what he needed for his students and a barely-there thump at meeting someone he hadn’t before.

It’s not everyday someone new moves to town, especially one around his age and with such a soft demeanour. He walked away, the faintest grin played on his lips, leaving him feeling lighter than when he’d first stepped inside.

You sank back into your seat behind the counter, already thinking of the perfect selection of books to gather for the following week. But also wondering if you’d see that soft-spoken teacher again soon.

Monday morning brought a crispness to the air that you felt through your coat. You sat parked in front of Hawkins Elementary School, drumming your fingers on the steering wheel, trying to summon enough courage to make your delivery.

The box of books you’d so carefully selected for Steve Harrington and his second graders was tucked in the backseat—carefully wedged between a pile of tote bags and a folded-up umbrella. It wasn’t heavy enough to break your back, but it still felt significant, because of what it contained and who it was going to.

You hadn’t expected to feel nervous. This was, after all, part of your job—providing customers with the books they needed. Yet a twinge of excitement emerged in your stomach whenever you remembered his soft brown eyes and that quietly dorky grin.

He’d seemed so genuinely pleased when you mentioned Flat Stanley; you’d practically sprinted to the phone after he left, calling your supplier to confirm you could get a copy in time. Part of you told yourself you were just being a good shopkeeper—wanting a repeat customer, ensuring satisfaction, all that. But in truth, you knew there was a deeper motive at play.

You wanted to see him smile again.

Drawing a steadying breath, you stepped out of your car and walked around to open the trunk. The box was bulky, and a small grunt escaped your lips as you lifted it out. Clutching it carefully in both arms, you made your way across the short walkway to the main entrance. The school doors gleamed in the late morning light, and you nudged them open with your shoulder, the scent of floor polish and crayons that seemed to greet you as soon as you stepped inside.

A lone receptionist—an older gentleman in a sweater vest—looked up from behind his computer screen as you approached. You offered your brightest smile, placing the box gently on the desk before explaining,

“Good morning.” You greet him. “I have a delivery for Steve Harrington?”

“Yes, he’s here.” His eyebrows perked with polite curiosity. “What would it be for?”

“Just books.” You slid the lid off the box, revealing a tidy row of colorful spines. “I work at the bookshop on Oak Street.”

Recognition dawned in his eyes as he nodded.

“Ah, yes. Been in there a few times—nice place,” he noted, then glanced over his shoulder at a clock on the wall. “He’s probably with his class right now. Break’s in about ten minutes, though, so you might catch him.”

He rose to his feet and gave you clear directions.

“Down the hall, first room on your left once you reach the end.”

“Thank you so much.” You slid the box’s lid back into place, gathering it carefully in your arms again.

The corridor stretched ahead, brightly lit by overhead fixtures. Child-sized artwork taped to the walls shifted in a faint draft—handprints in rainbow paint, construction paper collages, and scrawling pencil drawings of families and pets.

Everything felt warm, friendly. Despite being new to Hawkins, you already felt the community’s kindness wrapping around you.

You found the door labeled “2B” easily enough. The window set into the top allowed a small glimpse inside, and what you saw made your breath catch in delight.

Steve was crouched next to a student’s chair, his posture open and attentive as he listened to a young girl excitedly explain something, her little hands gesturing in all directions. His own hands were braced on his knees, and you could see his eyes crinkle when he smiled. He nodded along as though whatever she was saying was the most important information in the world.

It was absolute, wonderful chaos—kids milling around in their seats, pages turning, pencils scribbling, a few quiet squeals of excitement from a group in the corner that filtered through the door. But Steve seemed perfectly at home there in the midst of it all, soothing any anxious energy with gentle instruction.

A light rap of your knuckles on the door went unheard—Steve was so focused on the small child in front of him, nodding along to the excited chatter that spilled from the little one’s mouth that the sound didn’t register. You lingered for a moment, balancing the heavy box in your arms.

When his attention didn’t shift on the second attempt, you carefully pushed the door open with your hip. That slight movement must have caught his eye because he glanced over, registered your presence, and offered you a bright smile. He held his finger up apologetically and mouthed a: “One sec.” You responded with a quick nod, glancing around the room and taking it all in.

The classroom was pure, bursting with the wonder only associated with childhood. The walls were lined with drawings, some wobbly stick figures with unmistakable swoopy hair, others detailed crayon masterpieces that clearly took serious effort. They stretched across the length of the room like an ever-growing mural of creativity, pinned up with care rather than neat precision.

His desk was a happy kind of cluttered—pens in every colour were scattered in cups and across papers, alongside little stacks of homemade cards with messy, heartfelt messages scrawled in different handwriting. A few framed photos sat amongst the chaos—one of Steve surrounded by his students, another of him and you assume his friends, grinning mid-laugh.

The reading corner was cosy, though the shelves looked slightly bare, with a rug that was a little too soft and bean bags that were well-loved and possibly past their prime. A small chalkboard at the front had doodles in different colours, little inside jokes between him and the class. In one corner, a calendar was decorated with goofy stickers marking birthdays and "important events," a few glittery stars suggested the kids fully endorsed it.

Everything about the space screamed safe, fun, and loved. You could feel it in the way the room was lived-in, the way nothing felt stiff or too polished. He had poured himself into this place, making it somewhere his kids actually wanted to be. And it was impossible not to smile looking at it.

Glancing back at him, you took a moment to appreciate the sight of him in his element. He wore a rust-colored jumper, tucked into jeans with a bold smear of what looked like red paint on one thigh—an inevitable hazard of teaching little ones, apparently.

He had a calm, attentive expression as he finished listening to the girl, who was still gesturing animatedly. When he finally stood up, his sweater rode up just slightly, revealing the curve of his waist before he pulled it quickly back into place. You caught yourself thinking he looked genuinely beautiful, even amid a swirl of classroom hysterics. He crossed the room with an apologetic smile.

“Hello, again,” he greeted you in a voice that held gratitude. Your heart did a small flip at the way his gaze flickered from the box in your arms to your eyes. You couldn’t resist a playful quip.

“Delivery for Mr. Harrington?”

A faint flush coloured his cheeks, and he chuckled under his breath.

“Yep, uh, that’s me.” He reached out and gently lifted the box from your arms, setting it on his desk at the front as children laughed and played in the background. “Sorry you had to carry it all the way here.”

You wave a hand in front as if to tell him not to worry, he glanced at the clock mounted above the door and turned back to you.

“Could you give me five minutes? I wanna show them what we got.” The eager gleam in his eyes was entirely too charming.

“Sure,” you agreed softly, catching the brief glimpse of excitement on his face as he lifted the lid and took in the neat stack of titles you’d chosen. His smile widened when he spotted the beloved Flat Stanley perched near the top, and you could almost feel the tension melt from his shoulders as he realised you’d pulled through.

Yeah, maybe you wanted it to be the first book he saw. So what?

Steve turned to the class, a gentle command in his voice as he clapped his hands twice. Almost instantly, the children quieted. You half expected them to carry on shrieking, but they gazed up at him with unwavering attention, surprising you with their composure. In that moment, you understood that these kids trusted him completely.

“Alright, everyone, eyes up here. We have something very exciting that’s just arrived.” His tone was soft yet enthusiastic. “Someone was kind enough to make a trip to bring us something special. Any guesses what’s in this box? Hands up.”

Little hands shot up in the air—or, in some cases, little voices called out answers without waiting to be chosen. Steve grinned, an indulgent, affectionate smile that lit up his entire face. After a chorus of guesses—“Chocolate!” “Dinosaurs!”—he chuckled and reached inside the box, retrieving Flat Stanley to hold up for emphasis.

“If anyone said books, you were correct.” He pointed the cover toward the sea of wide-eyed students, then gave you a grateful glance that made your stomach flutter. Turning back to the group, he continued. “We have some brand-new books, and these are just for us. That means we have to look after them, okay?”

A short silence followed. Then, with a gentle prompt.

“Can anyone tell me what we are not going to do with them?”

Every hand in the room shot up.

“Rip them!” A small boy yelled out.

“That’s right,” Steve agreed, beaming at the child. “The pages tear easily. What else?”

“We don’t throw them!” Another student chimed in.

Steve’s expression flickered with amused severity, no doubt recalling some past mishap.

“Exactly. No throwing—especially not at each other.”

Unable to resist joining in, you raised your hand along with the children. Steve’s gaze shifted to you, a hint of delight in his eyes that you’d play along. You offered your own rule.

“We don’t draw on them.”

“Absolutely,” he said, nodding sagely and turning back to his class. “Some of them already have pictures, and they don’t need you adding more, okay? If you want to draw, we have plenty of paper at the back.”

They all nodded, and you felt a rush of affection for his patient approach. He wasn’t stern in the way some teachers might be; instead, he treated the kids like partners, inviting them to share in the responsibility. You couldn’t help but feel a little flustered at how effortlessly he seemed to balance control and kindness.

Steve turns to you with a grateful expression before addressing the class again.

"Okay, now what do we all say?" he prompts, his voice warm and expectant.

A disjointed chorus of "Thank you!" erupts from the kids, some louder than others, a few delayed, and at least one who just echoes the words a beat too late like an afterthought. The sincerity in their little voices makes your cheeks warm, and you can’t help but laugh.

He was clearly proud as he glances around at his students, then flicks his eyes up at the clock, telling him it was nearly break time.

“Alright, we are gonna take a short break. Grab your snacks from your cubbies, and then come back to your desks, alright?”

A joyful scramble ensued—chairs scraped against the floor, and the children dashed off in unison, giggling as they rifled through bright backpacks and lunchboxes.

Steve turned to you with a lightness in his eyes, the excited buzz of his students drifting behind him. His lips curved into that grateful smile you remembered from the bookshop.

“Honestly, thank you so much for doing this,” he said, quietly enough that only you could hear.

“It’s no problem, really—it’s kind of my job.” You felt a warm flush rise to your cheeks, and you tried to deflect any praise.

Still, he couldn’t help the appreciation that washed over him. You looked so earnest, standing there in the middle of his classroom, and he found himself thinking that you were sweeter than he’d initially realised.

“Good contribution on the ‘no drawing’ rule, by the way,” he teased softly, chuckling. “We have had issues with that before…”

“Thought so,” you replied as you looked around once more. “Kind of jealous I have to leave your class after this—it seems fun here.” You gestured to the room, taking in the brightly colours and kids rifling through their little lunchboxes.

His eyes flicked around the room, landing on the paint smudge on his own jeans as if to prove a point.

“It can be,” he said, wry amusement in his tone, “but it’s definitely a handful.” There was a slight pause as he glanced back at the box on his desk. “So, how much do I owe you for all this?”

“Seventy dollars,” you answered, feeling a bit uncomfortable about naming the price.

Without missing a beat, he opened a drawer and fished out his wallet, sliding out a few bills.

“Went to the ATM this morning,” he explained with a small shrug. “Was expecting you.”

Your hand closed around the money, but you lifted your gaze to him in concern.

“Aren’t the school’s funds supposed to cover this?”

He huffed a short laugh. “Not a chance with the budget we’ve got—and especially after the last round got destroyed.”

A pang of sympathy flashed through you. You didn’t like the idea of him footing the bill just so his students could have decent reading material.

“Then let’s make it fifty,” you offered, handing him back a portion of the money.

“No, no way.” His eyes went wide, and he shook his head firmly. “Take it.”

“If you give me all that,” you said, adopting a light, playful tone, “I’m just going to leave the difference at the front desk for you at the end of the day.”

“Come on,” he frowned, looking torn. “That’s not fair.”

“It’s books for children,” you shrugged. “It’s the least I can do.”

He exhaled a resigned sigh, finally conceding and pocketing some of the cash.

“Fine,” he muttered, embarrassed.

An instant later, you saw a flicker of something cross his face—resolve, or maybe nerves. He glanced at the class, making sure they were occupied, then gestured toward the door. With a silent tilt of his head, he indicated you should both step into the hall.

Out in the corridor, the sudden quiet felt almost jarring compared to the cheerful chaos inside. The overhead lights were softer here, and you looked up at him with what Steve could only describe as the biggest, most open doe eyes he’d ever seen. His heart thumped a little faster.

Spending all day with second graders had left him woefully out of practice when it came to talking to someone his own age—especially if he might be asking them out.

“If you, uh, won’t take the money…” he began, clearing his throat. “Maybe you’d like to let me buy you a coffee sometime? My treat. As—as a thank-you, for everything.”

The invitation caught you off guard, and a gentle blush warmed your cheeks. He picked up on it immediately, and worry flashed across his expression.

“Is that too forward?” he backpedaled quickly. “Sorry—I’m sorry, forget I said anything—”

“No, wait,” you interrupted, mustering a quiet laugh at how flustered he seemed. “I’d love to meet you for coffee.”

His shoulders visibly relaxed, relief flooding his features.

“Yeah?” he asked, a small, triumphant smile quirking his lips. “That’s…That’s good.”

“We’re closed on Sundays, I’m assuming you’d be free then?” You offered as you smiled back, feeling an unexpected rush of excitement of your own.

“Sunday is perfect,” he said, nodding a bit too eagerly. “Do you know the coffee place on Maple?”

A soft sparkle lit your eyes. “I love their pastries,” you admitted, grin widening.

“Me too,” he said, scrubbing a hand through his hair. “How about eleven?”

Eleven, you repeated in your head, trying not to beam too obviously.

“That works for me.”

“Great—eleven.” He tried to hang onto an air of casualness, but there was no denying the spark in his expression.

You turned to go, warmth spreading from your chest all the way to your toes, when he suddenly called out.

“Wait—I, uh, didn’t catch your name.”

A slight laugh escaped you at his flustered state, and you told him softly. He repeated it under his breath, letting it roll off his tongue as though to memorise the sound.

“Right. Sunday at eleven.” He echoed the words again, as if reassuring himself that this was really happening, before heading back into the classroom.

You took a small moment, hugging that sense of anticipation. As you walked away, you caught the echo of his voice as the door began to shut.

“Alright, guys,” he announced brightly, “who’s gonna help me put these away?”

A gentle laugh escaped you as the door closed behind, picturing the eager hands shooting up in response to his question. In that instant, the hallway felt a little less quiet, and your footsteps sounded more like a happy skip than anything else.

taglist: @daisy-is-a-writer

#steve harrington x reader #steve harrington #stranger things #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington fluff #stranger things x reader #steve harrington fanfic #stranger things imagine #steve harrington angst #steve harrington series #steve harrington x you #stranger things fic #teacher steve harrington

166 notes · View notes