#steve harrington requests

[headkiss]

fall right into me

pairing: steve harrington x fem!reader

summary: when something happens to your apartment and you need a place to stay, steve, your best friend, is quick to provide it for you. your prolonged proximity forces you both to realize some things.

word count: 13.6k

warnings: childhood bffs to lovers, absolute idiots in love, mentions of a negative relationship with parents, probably inaccurate descriptions of some things but it’s (say it with me) for the plot!!!

a/n: i know it’s been a LONG time since i’ve posted a long fic so thank u guys for ur patience <3 i had so much fun getting back to it and writing these two, and i hope it’s at least a little bit worth the wait!!! ily :,)

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Your shoes are still wet as you dial the first number that comes to mind: Steve’s.

He picks up on the third ring. “Hello?”

“Hey, Steve.”

“Hi,” you can imagine him on the other side of the phone, leaning casually against the wall, an easy smile on his face, “what’s going on?”

You’re not quite sure where to start.

Coming home from work earlier, you’d been excited to shower and change and lay around for the rest of the evening, your book hanging open in your lap and some mindless TV filling the silence.

The day seemed to have other plans for you, though, because as you walked down the stairs to your apartment—one in the basement of a sweet, older couple’s house who just never used the space and converted it—the carpet had made an ugly squelch as soon as you stepped on it.

You looked down at your shoe against the carpet, at the way its color was darker than usual from whatever water had gotten into it. Looking up, you found a complete mess. A piece of the ceiling hanging open right above your bed, water still dripping in steady drops from the gap, your bedding ruined among many other things.

You don’t know how long you stood there, hand over your mouth, eyes flickering over the damage like you were hoping it would vanish, like it was only something you imagined.

Unfortunately, it wasn’t.

The couple who owns the house came down when they heard you shout for them, unsure of what else to do. They’d both gasped when they came down, and began apologizing for something that really wasn’t their fault before one ran up to call whoever it was they needed to call to fix this and the other comforted you with a gentle “we’ll take care of it, sweetie.”

You nodded, eyes still roaming your space that was now uninhabitable.

It’s an old house, something was bound to happen at some point, you only wished it wasn’t so inconvenient for you. A small leak, you could have handled, but the ceiling practically caving in?

Yeah, it was a complete fucking mess.

Hours later, with the damage assessed and set to take a few weeks to fix up, you’re on the phone with the one person you’d known would pick up.

You fill Steve in on what happened, and his first response is a sigh of, “Shit.”

“Yeah, shit,” you agree. “And now I’m gonna have to live with my parents for a while and I don’t know how I’m gonna go back into that house, Steve.”

If you’re being honest, the couple you live with now was kinder to you than your parents were. You suppose that’s one of the many things that you and Steve have bonded over.

“Just come live with me, instead,” he offers without hesitation.

Steve says it like it’s obvious, a no-brainer, and you guess it should be, since you’ve slept over at the Harrington’s house countless times before. Only, this is different because you’d be staying for a while, because you’d be needing his help, which makes you feel all awkward and guilty.

He’s been your absolute best friend for as long as you can remember, and you’re one hundred percent sure you’d offer the same thing if the roles were reversed, but that doesn’t make it any easier for you to accept, not when you’re already frazzled from the events of the day.

“No, Steve, I’m sorry I’m just being dramatic,” you say, twisting the phone’s cord around your finger. “I’ll be fine, really. It’s just a month, or so, and I don’t wanna be in your way or-”

“When have you ever cared about being in my way, angel?” The pet name he’s called you ever since your ninth grade Halloween party slips out naturally, the way it always does. “Besides, this house is too fucking big for me as it is, and you know my parents won’t be around to care, either.”

“I can’t ask you to let me move in, Steve.”

“Well then, it’s a good thing you’re not asking. I’m offering. It’ll be like that one week when we were twelve and you stayed over for spring break, only longer. It’s perfect!”

There’s a small smile ghosting across your face as you recall the memory he’s talking about. A blanket fort in their spacious living room, sleeping bags and pillows piled inside it along with two flashlights.

You can picture the way he looks on the other end of the phone, his hair a bit messy from running his hands through it during the day, one strand rogue against his forehead, his shoulder leaned carelessly against the wall the way it usually is when he stands. Like he can’t be bothered to hold himself up, like there’s constantly a weight on him.

“Are you sure about this, Steve? It’s really okay if you’re not. I swear I’ll be fine.”

“As if I’m letting you spend multiple weeks back in your parent’s house. You’re staying with me, alright?” His voice is insistent, yet kind, letting you know that he’s being honest, that he means it. “We’ll order pizzas and watch shitty romcoms, ‘kay?”

“You can call romcoms shitty all you want, but we both know you get teary at every single one.”

“Don't change the subject, angel. Also, fuck off,” he says, though you can hear the smile in his voice. “So, you’re living with me, yeah?”

You don’t think you could say no to him even if you wanted to.

“Yeah, alright, Steve. Thank you so much.”

“None of that. I know you’d do the same.”

There’s something beautiful about the kind of trust and ease that comes with a friendship as long as yours. One where you’ve watched each other grow up, awkward phases and all, and stuck together the entire way. There’s no questioning whether or not you’d be there for each other if you were in need.

It’s known, felt. Like a fact.

“Now,” he continues, “I’ll pick you up, okay? Ten minutes, tops.”

“Okay.”

“You need me to bring boxes for your stuff?”

“I’m not sure how much is worth keeping. It’s pretty ugly in there.”

Your voice goes small at the end, because the gravity of it all is really sinking in. You’ll have to replace a lot of stuff. Stuff you don’t have money for right now.

But, you haven’t let yourself cry just yet, so you swallow it down.

“I’ll bring some anyway, then. We’ll figure it out, angel, don’t worry.”

“Thanks again, Steve. See you soon.”

“Ten minutes,” he assures you, then the line clicks.

-

True to his word, Steve arrives in under ten minutes, which isn’t surprising considering the size of Hawkins, but feels reassuring all the same.

You’re sitting on the curb in front of the house when Steve’s BMW pulls over on the other side of the road, and you stand just as he climbs out and shuts his door, rounding the car and jogging over to you.

His keys jingle as he tucks them into the pocket of his faded jeans, his opposite hand coming up to squeeze your shoulder, “You okay?”

The warmth of his palm seeps through your work shirt that you’ve yet to change out of, and you let your eyes fall shut just for a second before looking at his face, “Guess so,” you nod. “Maybe ask me again after all of this?”

Steve’s arm winds itself over your shoulders, tugging you into his side and dropping a kiss to the top of your head, simple as an instinct. “I’ve got you. We’ll get through this, angel.”

We’ll, he says. A team.

You reach up and squeeze his hand and nod, guiding him to the side-entrance leading to your basement apartment.

“I hope you didn’t wear your good shoes for this,” you say.

Steve looks down at his feet and shrugs, “Shoes can be replaced.”

He lets you lead the way down the stairs, his footsteps close behind yours. You wince when you look at the damage again, even though you’d seen it minutes ago. You can't bring yourself to look at Steve, to see the reaction on his face, because you think it’ll just make it all more real.

He mouths the word ‘fuck’ while you aren’t looking, then claps his hands once. “Okay, let’s figure out what we can save, yeah? Where do you want me?”

You’re grateful for his gentle guidance at what to do. “Maybe the bathroom? Everything in there should be fine, so it just needs to be packed.”

“‘Kay. I’ll just go grab some boxes from my car,” Steve says. He squeezes your hand once before heading up the stairs. “I’ll be right back.”

You decide to tackle the worst spot first. Though the place is more like a studio, the side that houses your bed and your closet is the most affected, so you head over there and try to tune out the squish of the carpet beneath your feet.

You’re opening the sliding doors to your closet when Steve comes back, dropping a stack of boxes by your feet and running his hand down your arm softly before heading over to the bathroom to pack for you.

Even his presence seems to be making things a little bit easier for you, and each time he finds a small way to touch you or speak to you, to remind you that he’s there, you’re glad for it.

Half of your closet is a gross, wet mess, but some things are salvageable, which you take as a win. Things might be damp, but at least it’s only water, you suppose. A cycle in the dryer and most things will be wearable again.

Your dresses that are hung get the worst of it, soaked and smelly, and you decide that it’d be easier to get a couple new ones than to try and save what’s there.

Steve checks in every now and then, poking his head out of the bathroom’s doorway to look at you and make sure you’re doing alright, giving you a thumbs up when you look over to him.

You’re not sure how you’d be managing this if you were alone, and you’re thankful that you don’t have to.

The next time he checks on you, you’re by your nightstand.

Sitting atop of it is a framed picture of you and Steve from summer camp when you were around ten years old, maybe younger. Only now, the picture’s stained with water and the frame you’d decorated all those years ago at camp is a splotchy mess.

Where yours and Steve’s handwriting used to be, is now a blur from the water seeping into the wooden frame, the marker’s colors muddy. You frown, picking it up and running your thumb over the edge.

Before you can stop yourself, you’re tearing up, frustrated and sad and tired. Memories like this one are the most special to you, the ones that have kept you going for so long, and just like that, the picture that’s sat on your nightstand since being taken is gone, and it fucking sucks.

“Hey, angel?” Steve calls.

When all you do is sniffle and mumble an “mhm?” in response, he sets the box he’d been packing on the bathroom counter and walks over to you.

He comes up behind you, resting his hands on your upper-arms and peering over your shoulder at the ruined picture.

“It was my favorite one,” you say, voice breaking a little. You wipe your tear away as it trails down your cheek, your own fingertips too harsh against your skin.

Although it’s soaked and splotchy now, Steve knows which picture it is. The one where you’ve both got your neon summer camp t-shirts on, the one where his cheeks and nose are completely sunburnt and you’re both grinning up at the camera from your seats on the ground.

Steve’s clutching a stick in his hand for some reason, and you’ve got your fist tangled in the sleeve of his shirt.

It feels like no time and forever has passed since then.

Steve grabs the picture and pries it gently from your hands, setting it back onto the table and turning you around in his grip to face him.

“We can fix it,” he tells you, his brown eyes all soft as his hands come up to cup your face, thumbs swiping your tears away.

“But the frame-”

“We’ll fix it, angel. I’ll find a way, okay? We can pack it in one of the boxes and figure it out.”

“Steve-”

“Look at me,” he urges you when your gaze flickers to the ground. You listen. “This fucking sucks, I know it does, but you’re strong and I’m here, and we can handle this.”

His voice is quiet, but sure. You search his face for any trace of a lie and find none. He really believes what he’s saying, and he really believes in you.

“Thank you for being here.” You take a deep breath and drop your forehead against the collar of his shirt. “I’m sorry for crying. I know it’s kinda stupid. Most of this is replaceable, it’s just-”

“It’s not stupid,” he says, letting his chin rest atop your head. “You’re allowed to cry. Hell, I’d probably be kicking and screaming on the floor like I'm back in the terrible twos.”

You laugh wetly into his shirt.

“Now,” he says, pulling back and putting his hands on his hips, “the quicker we pack, the quicker we go home. I’ll even let you wear a pair of my good fuzzy socks.”

A smile tugs at your mouth. “Deal.”

-

Steve wouldn’t let you do much of the work after that.

Instead, he simply held up items for you to assess from where you’d been leaning against the wall and packed it into a box if it was a ‘yes,’ or tossing it aside dramatically just to try and get you to laugh if it was a ‘no.’

Once things were sorted through and packed, you loaded everything into Steve’s car—which wasn’t a whole bunch, considering how much you had to leave behind.

You’d refused to let Steve carry the boxes all on his own, though he tried, but he still managed to open the doors for you whenever you made it to his car, even when his own hands were full, too.

By the time you were finished, you were drained. It felt like you’d lived multiple days in the one. An eight hour shift opening at the store, then coming home to a wrecked apartment. All you wanted to do was shower and lay down and not get back up.

Steve knows you well enough to be able to tell when it’s time to fill the silence and when it isn’t, and on the drive back to his place, while your head was leaned against his window, he knew to stay quiet and give you a bit of space.

He turned the radio on, but not too loud, letting the songs hum through the speakers. At every stop sign, he reached over and gave your thigh a light squeeze. Reassuring, kind, somehow exactly what you needed at the moment. Nothing more, nothing less.

You were no stranger to the Harrington’s house, having been there countless times since you were little, but it feels more intimidating now, knowing you’ll be staying. You feel silly for being worried, but you are. Asking for help makes you feel like a burden.

Steve, however, doesn’t let you entertain that thought for long, parking in his driveway and jogging around to open the passenger door for you. “Honey, we’re home!”

“Dork,” you say, though you accept his hand and let him tug you up out of the car.

Grabbing the first couple of boxes, Steve leads you inside and upstairs, right to the guest room across the hall from his own bedroom. The closest one to him.

The house has at least two guest rooms, though you suppose with how little Steve's parents are around, you could consider there to be three. Three spare rooms and Steve puts you up in the nearest one possible. It makes your heart squish in your chest, how caring he is. He doesn’t even have to try, really, the goodness in him shows even when he tries to keep it hidden.

It only takes a few trips down to his car and back before all of your boxes are stacked against the wall. You decide you’ll deal with them later.

Steve runs over to his room and grabs a set of pajamas that you’d left there, and hands them to you. “I figured you’d wanna wash up.”

“You calling me smelly, Harrington?”

“Shut up, I think you smell nice. Usually.”

“Hey!”

“I’m teasing, angel.” He ruffles your hair. You swat his hand away. “You know where the bathroom is, and there should be soap and stuff in the shower already. Just yell if you need something, okay?”

You do know where the bathroom is. You have your own toothbrush in a cup by the sink, a set of travel-sized skin care products in the cupboard behind the mirror for whenever you end up staying over.

It’s funny, you’ve always felt more at home here than at your own parents house, and though he hasn’t said it to you, Steve much prefers this house when you’re in it. There’s a warmth that comes with your presence that makes him ache when it’s not around.

You nod, “Thank you again for letting me stay, Steve. I won’t be in the way, promise.”

“I want you in the way. You know you’re always welcome. This is no different.” He shrugs, “Plus, it’ll be nice having you around. Place always feels so empty when it’s just me.”

“Maybe I’ll just stay forever, then,” you say, tone light and joking.

Steve, completely serious, says, “I’d let you.”

There’s a zip that goes through you when he says it, quick as lightning, something you’ve never felt—or noticed, rather—around him. It throws you off just a little.

“Anyways,” Steve cuts your thoughts short, “I’ll let you get settled. Pizza will be waiting for you when you’re done.”

He leaves the room before you can thank him again, his footsteps retreating and heading downstairs.

You’ve been to his house a million times, so you don’t really feel the need to ‘get settled’ but you desperately need a shower so that’s where you go.

You stay in for longer than you need to, letting the too-hot water run down your neck and back.

When you finally do step out of the bathroom, now clad in your pajamas, and head downstairs, Steve’s sitting on the couch in the living room, the romcoms he owns sitting out in front of the TV for you to choose from, your favorite blanket resting on your side of the couch, and pizza boxes on the coffee table just as promised.

It’s the best thing in the world, you think, to have a friend like Steve.

-

You’ve been staying at Steve’s for a couple of days already, and time seems to fly by a little quicker when you’re there, especially when you’re around him.

He’s taken it upon himself to have coffee ready in the pot for you every morning, one of your favorite mugs already next to it on the counter. You’ve cooked breakfasts together (pancakes one day, where you’d done most of the work, or something simple as toast when you both have to get to work), ordered dinners, and Steve comes home from his shifts with a new movie to watch almost every day.

It’s been so nice. Almost perfect, actually.

This morning, the first day where your shifts happen to be at the exact same time, he’d even insisted on driving you to work. It was an easy yes, considering it wasn’t out of his way at all.

After a short stint of working together at the grocery store in ninth grade, and your subsequent firing from the job after a month of constantly distracting each other on the clock, Tim, the grocery manager, took it upon himself to warn Hawkins not to hire the both of you together.

Eventually, you’d taken the closest you could get which resulted in you working at the arcade and Steve next door at Family Video.

You share a parking lot. Steve already drives you to work most days. You like to put up a bit of a fight just to annoy him.

Though you haven’t worked together in years, and he isn’t far away by any means, you miss having Steve around on days like this. Where the arcade is quiet save for the sounds of the games in the background, where you’re simply babysitting the desk and cleaning things multiple times to try and make the hours pass by.

If Steve were with you, he’d make stupid jokes that you don’t wanna laugh at but do, or coerce you into playing the games while on the clock with the change you find whenever you’re cleaning.

He’d probably trash talk you, and bump your hip with his while playing pinball, and be a sore loser, and for some reason you want him around so bad.

You chalk it up to getting used to spending hours and hours with him, every single day, these past couple of days. Staying with him has made you miss him more, you think.

That’s it.

Meanwhile, over at Family Video, Steve isn’t feeling too different from you.

He’s spent the morning stocking shelves, memories popping into his head whenever he’d come across a movie you loved or watched together, while Robin’s been manning the desk.

Then, when his cart was empty and put back into the back room, he sat on the chair behind the front desk, spinning around until Robin stopped him with her foot and asked what he was thinking so hard about.

Steve caught her up on what had happened with your apartment (you’d told him he could tell her, because she’s your friend too and would find out sooner or later) and how you’d ended up staying with him in his house.

She raised her eyebrows and hummed in a way that was automatically suspicious, because Robin isn’t very good at hiding things.

“What?” Steve asks.

“Nothing.” When Steve only gives her a pointed look, Robin continues, “Well… are you sure that’s a good idea?”

Now, Robin is one of Steve’s closest friends, and him one of hers, and she supports him in pretty much everything that he does even when she teases him relentlessly along the way, but she cares about both of you and doesn’t want to see anyone hurt.

She can read Steve better than he can read himself, probably, because to Robin, it’s clear that he feels more than friendly towards you. And he doesn’t even know it.

When they became closer, it was clear to Robin, even before meeting you, just from the way Steve spoke of you, that there was a spot reserved for you in his life that couldn’t be filled by anyone else.

He would say it’s that of ‘best friend’ but Robin would call it something even bigger than that. Still, even though she thinks he’s an absolute dingus, she’s trying to let Steve figure it out for himself.

Clearly, it’s taking fucking forever.

He looks confused at her question, “Why wouldn’t it be a good idea?”

Robin sighs and resists the urge to drop her forehead against the desk and decides on, “You know what they say: become friends with your roommates, don’t become roommates with your friends.”

“Whoever they are, they’re dumb as shit,” Steve says. “She’s been over, slept over, hundreds of times. It’s not any different, just longer.”

“I guess so,” she settles on. “The rules of the world never really seem to apply to you two.”

“That’s because the rules of the world are also dumb as shit.”

“How would you know? It’s not like you’ve ever tried following them.”

“‘Cause I’m a rule breaker, Robs.”

Steve wiggles his eyebrows. Robin shoves the rolling chair he’s sitting on with her foot, sending it into the other side of the desk with a thud.

“Don’t think that smoking weed in your backyard is enough to call yourself a rule breaker, dingus.”

-

That night, your routine was pretty much the same.

Steve was already waiting for you in his car when you left the arcade, a smile spreading onto his face when he saw you making your way across the parking lot to him, your skirt swishing a little with the breeze.

Rather than go straight home, you made a stop at your apartment to talk things over with the couple who owned the home. They’d met with a builder and plumber about getting everything fixed and wanted to walk you through it all.

Steve came with you and held your hand, and both of them cooed at him and pinched his cheeks and called him a cutie before getting to the important stuff.

After going over what had to be done (rip out the carpet, replace it, fix the pipes and make sure no others were at risk, replace the ceiling, and more you couldn’t even remember already), they’d assured you that they would be taking care of it all. Covering the entire cost.

You probably would’ve argued if not for how little money was in your bank account, and how stubborn you knew these people to be. Instead, you’d squeezed them both and thanked them while your eyes grew misty with tears.

Steve’s hand stayed in yours and squeezed when you sniffled.

He knew, because he knew pretty much everything about you, that these people were kinder to you than even your own parents. That, if this had happened at their house, they would’ve found a way to blame you for it.

You feel lucky to have found that kind of parental love elsewhere, sad that you didn’t know exactly what it felt like beforehand.

After giving the couple Steve’s phone number to call in case they needed you and giving them both another hug, you and Steve headed back home.

Home, you call it. Like it’s yours.

Sometimes it feels like it is.

Later, after you and Steve have both showered and had dinner and gotten comfy in your sweats, you’re back in the living room, Steve shows you the movie he’s brought back this time.

“Gremlins?” You ask, smiling and shaking your head.

“Hell yeah, angel. It’s a classic.”

Steve sets everything up, joining you on the couch after pressing ‘play’ on the movie and adjusting the volume with your guidance.

“So, how was work?” Steve asks during the opening credits. The two of you have a hard time being next to each other and not talking. It’s why you get dirty looks whenever you go to the movies.

“Weekdays are so boring, Steve,” you say, letting your head fall against the back of the couch. “You’re so lucky you have Robin to entertain you during the day. I think I dusted like, ten times at least.”

“Robin is a pain in my ass.” He says. He doesn’t really mean it, because even when she is, he’s glad to have her around. A different kind of gladness than he feels with you. “She kept pushing me every time I sat in the rolling chair. There’s probably a dent in the desk.”

“That’s because you were probably hogging the chair, Steve.”

“What the fuck!” Steve’s smiling when he says it, lacking any sort of anger. “You’re supposed to be on my side.”

Your smile mirrors his, the way it always does. It’s contagious, you think, the way his eyes crinkle at the corner.

Shrugging, you say, “I don’t know, I’d wanna push you around on that chair too, I think.”

“You’d spin me too much. I’d get sick all over you and then nobody’s happy.”

“Don’t talk about barf while I’m eating, Harrington.”

You throw a piece of popcorn at him. It bounces off his cheek and lands on his lap, and he doesn’t even flinch. Steve just picks it up and pops it into his mouth.

When the bowl’s empty, you lean forward and set it on the coffee table before sinking back into the couch, Steve's shoulder brushing yours. You let the warmth seep through your clothes and shut your eyes.

It’s a little more than halfway through the movie when Steve realizes you’re asleep. You’d been quiet, sure, but Steve only thought that meant you were paying attention to the movie.

That was, until your head slipped and rested against his shoulder.

He looked down at you, at the hair falling across your forehead (he smoothed it away gently, so it wouldn’t be in your eyes or your mouth), your eyebrows relaxed and free of any worry, your chest rising and falling with steady breaths.

He thinks of how tired you must be, after everything. Your apartment and dealing with the aftermath both emotionally and physically, working long shifts most days to keep your bank account full.

Steve, though he doesn’t let himself look too deep into it, also thinks of how beautiful you are. Now and always.

Not wanting you to get a kink in your neck from the position, Steve decides to rouse you from sleep as gently as possible. He slips a hand under your head to keep it steady and maneuvers himself to kneel in front of you.

“Hey, angel,” he almost whispers, thumb dragging across your cheek. “C’mon, let’s get you to bed.”

Your nose scrunches and you grumble, but after some coaxing, you blink your eyes open and squint at Steve. You blame your half-asleep mind on the way you nuzzle into his palm. “Hmm?”

“You fell asleep.”

“Oh, sorry,” you mumble.

Steve laughs softly. “Don’t be sorry, I just didn’t want you to be uncomfortable.”

The warmth of his hand leaves your cheek as he stands and holds his hands out for you to grab. He pulls you up off the couch and starts leading you towards the stairs.

You knuckle at your eyes on the way, a tiny smile gracing your face at how sweet Steve’s being. As if you haven’t fallen asleep on his couch plenty of times before.

Still sleepy, you stumble a little on the stairs, but Steve catches you easily with an arm around your waist and a small “Careful.”

He leaves his arm there the rest of the way to what’s become your bedroom, guiding you over to the bed and lifting the covers for you.

Tomorrow, you’ll regret not brushing your teeth or washing your face before climbing in bed. But today, you don’t feel like risking not being able to sleep again if you wake yourself up further.

You’re practically asleep again by the time you’re settled with your head on the pillow as Steve tugs the blankets over you.

You’re just awake enough to feel the light press of his lips on your forehead and a soft “Goodnight, angel” against your skin before he leaves the room and shuts the door behind him.

-

On a random Thursday that you and Steve both have off, he convinces you to let him take you to the mall.

“We should go shopping,” he says when you walk into the kitchen. It’s a little later in the morning, having slept in since it’s a day off, the sun slipping through the window in warm beams.

You raise your eyebrows at him. “Like, groceries?”

“No, like shopping shopping. You know, the mall?”

You lean against the kitchen island, the countertop cool on your back where it touches the sliver of skin between your tank top and sleep shorts. Steve has his shoulder against the fridge, his arms crossed over his chest, the sleeves of his t-shirt tight against his muscles. Not that you’re looking.

You squint at him, trying to find his motive on his face. “You literally buy whatever the mannequins are wearing to avoid shopping.”

“That’s what they’re there for!” The sass in his voice has you biting back a smile. “You need new clothes,” he continues, “and I need to get out of this house.”

“We can do something else, Steve,” you say. “I thought you hated shopping.”

“Well, I don’t hate you.” There’s a pause, Steve’s eyes lowering to that sliver of skin above your shorts. He flicks them back to your face quickly, hoping you didn’t notice, because even he’s not sure what compelled his eyes to wander. “Plus, Eddie called me a hermit the other day and I really can’t stand for that, can I?”

“Ohhh,” you ignore the way your skin suddenly feels warm beneath his gaze, “so you need to make a public appearance to prove Eddie wrong?”

“Exactly. We’ll replace some of the things you lost and restore my reputation. Two birds, one stone, right angel?”

So that’s how you’d ended up at the mall. After Starcourt burnt down, the closest place was a couple towns over, and Steve (as always) offered to drive.

He lets you pick the music the entire way, sings along when you hold your water bottle by his mouth like a microphone, even attempts to harmonize with you which just ends in laughter because neither of you sounded that great.

You’re a couple of stores in, and Steve’s been complaint-free so far—which makes sense, since this was his idea, but you’ve caught him side-eyeing some things, so you know he’s got some remarks in his head he just hasn’t said out loud—and follows you around as you browse. You try not to take too long, because you can’t imagine that this is any fun for him.

“How about that one?” Steve asks, pointing at one of the dresses hanging along the store’s wall.

He’d seen your apartment, though that was a bit ago, and he remembered what you’d lost the most of, along with the type of stuff you like. He pays attention like that, in small, quiet ways that you think mean the most.

He knows you. He cares enough to know you.

“Yeah, that’s really pretty, actually,” you admit.

At your approval, Steve grabs one in your size (which he also just happens to know) and adds it to the couple of things he’d already been holding for you. Every time you picked something up, he was quick to snatch it from you, telling you it was ‘too hard to browse with your hands full.’

After making your way through the rest of the store, you decided to head back to try things on, holding out a hand for the stuff Steve’s holding. “You can wait out here, I’ll be quick.”

“Hold on,” he says, holding the hangers out of your reach. “Why do you think I’m here, angel? I wanna help you pick.”

“Seriously?”

“Yes, seriously. Give me a fashion show, yeah?”

“Oh my God,” you mumble, letting him follow you to the fitting rooms.

They’re hidden behind the back wall of the store, a hallway painted bright blue with pink changeroom doors on one side, and white benches along the other.

“Hi there,” an employee with auburn hair greets you both, her smile wide and kind, though you know it’s a practiced one. Customer service smile. “How many you got there, darling?”

“Oh, um,” you turn back towards Steve, who’s counting the hangers in his hand. “Five.”

“Perfect!” The girl takes the key hanging around her neck and unlocks one of the rooms for you. She takes the clothes from Steve and hangs them up inside for you, then turns to the two of you and says, “Your man can have a seat right here. We call them the ‘boyfriend benches.’”

“He’s not my-”

“Thanks,” Steve says, cutting off your correction because for some reason he didn’t want you to correct her.

Did he… like the idea of being your boyfriend?

Fuck. No. He just didn’t want you to have to explain the whole situation in your rambly way. That’s all.

The redhead smiles again, “Holler if you need anything,” she says before walking off.

You stand there for a second, something like confusion on your face. Did it look like you were boyfriend and girlfriend?

“Come on,” Steve says, snapping the both of you out of whatever that was. “Show me what you’ve got.”

“I can't believe you’re making me do this,” you say, walking into the fitting room and shutting the door.

You try on a couple of sweaters first, and Steve feels the fabric both times, making sure that it’s not scratchy on your skin. Then, there’s just some basic t-shirts that aren’t all that exciting, but Steve says they look nice anyway.

Finally, you get to the dress he picked out.

It really was pretty. A midi-length with a ruffled hem and straps that tie into little bows on your shoulders. You don’t always feel good in your clothes. Sometimes you wish you could crawl out of your skin when you look into the mirror, but right now, you don’t hate what you see.

You actually like it.

“Well?” Steve calls softly from the bench.

In response, you open the door and step out so he can see you.

Steve’s seen you in plenty of dresses—hell, you went to prom together—but for some reason this one makes his heart beat just a little bit quicker. Maybe it’s simply the fact that it looks great on you, or the way you’re smiling shyly as he looks you over.

Or, maybe it’s because he’s the one who picked it.

He stands up, spinning his finger in the air in a gesture for you to twirl. You roll your eyes but do it anyway, and he can’t take his eyes off of you. The hallway of fitting rooms isn’t very big, so with both of you in it, you’re standing toe to toe, the gold flecks in the middle of Steve’s eyes and the faint freckles that dot his nose are visible from where you stand.

As if he can’t help it, Steve lifts a finger and dips it beneath the strap on your shoulder. Not moving it or undoing it, just gliding along your skin where it sits.

“You look beautiful,” he says. His voice goes all quiet and soft when he says it, and his eyes widen a tiny bit, like he hadn’t meant it to slip out that way. It sounded… more than friendly. He clears his throat and steps back as much as he can in the small space, his finger leaving your skin. “I have great taste. Clearly.”

You blink at him, then shake yourself out of it as much as you can. “Yeah. Don’t let it get to your head.” You lift the tag where it hangs by your armpit and look at the price. You gasp and swat Steve’s arm. “Steve! Why would you let me walk into a place so expensive?”

You probably should’ve looked at the tag beforehand, but here you are. Steve, shrugging exaggeratedly, says, “I didn’t know!”

“Okay, I’m gonna change before she comes back. We can make a run for it.”

“We’re not stealing.”

“I know, but they look at you all judgemental when you try stuff on and don’t buy something. Trust me.”

You turn and go back into the fitting room to put on your own clothes, taking a look at the dress in the mirror one last time before shaking your head at yourself.

Steve, however, takes the opportunity to leave you and head back out into the store. He finds the dress easily and grabs another one in your size from the rack and heads to the cashier.

He’s just finishing up, bag in hand, when you walk out and meet him at the front of the store.

“For you,” he says, holding out the bag for you to take.

“Steve…” You grab it and look inside. Your chest aches when you see the dress, your heart suddenly too full and your stomach fluttering stupidly. “You didn’t have to do that. I would’ve been fine with something from the Gap.”

“I know that,” he says, a hand lifting to scratch at the back of his neck. It’s a nervous tick of his, and the thought of him being nervous right now makes you melt even more. “I wanted to get it for you. You looked too pretty in it not to have it.”

Your eyes catch his, and again, something passes between you that you don’t think you’ve ever felt before. A fizzle, a spark.

You rock back on your feet, looking down at the ground before meeting his eyes again. They’re so fucking soft it makes you wonder how lucky you have to be to have him in your life. Being your best friend, driving you to work even when he doesn’t have a shift, offering you a place to stay, buying you a dress.

He’s the sweetest boy you’ve ever known.

“Well,” you twist the straps of the bag around your fingers just to keep them busy. “Thank you, Steve. This is really nice.”

His knuckle traces down your arm just once, featherlight. “You’re welcome, angel.”

You don’t buy anything else after that, instead stopping at the food court for fries, stealing from each other’s baskets, smiling and slapping hands away.

It’s the best day you’ve had in a while.

-

You don’t think anything you do will convey just how grateful you are that Steve has been so kind to you. Always, but especially now. Letting you stay with him and refusing to let you pay rent. (“I don’t even pay rent, and I live here all the time.”)

But, this morning, you’ve decided you’re gonna try.

Steve’s favorite meal of the day happens to be breakfast, which is funny, considering he usually eats something as simple as cereal. He’d told you once that it was because, as a kid, breakfast was the most peaceful of meals, his parents too busy getting ready for work or wherever they were going that he’d have the kitchen table to himself.

Lunch was usually spent at school, and Steve was never a fan of school to begin with. Then there was dinner, which his parents (when they were home) still wanted to have all together. They’d ask him questions and make backhanded comments about every single answer he gave. He never won at dinner.

So, breakfast was, and has remained, his favorite.

You made sure to get up early enough to give yourself time to get everything ready before he wakes up. Steve’s usually the one making the coffee in the morning, and you figured the least you could do was give him a break.

Yesterday, while Steve had been at work, you went over to the Wheeler’s and asked Nancy if you could borrow their waffle maker. She’d directed the question to her mother, who went and grabbed it for you and handed it over with a smile. You promised to take good care of it and have it back in a couple of days.

By the time Steve walks into the kitchen, you’ve already made the batter and set out the toppings—berries, maple syrup, whipped cream—like a buffet. However, he just so happens to come in as you’re swearing at the waffle maker.

“Stupid fucking thing,” you mutter, trying to open it.

Steve smiles to himself before saying, “Morning, angel.”

You jump at his voice, not having heard him walk in. When you turn around, your heart beats for a different reason.

Steve’s still only in his pajama pants, plaid and soft, hanging low on his hips. And he’s shirtless, his chest smattered with hair and his skin a little tanned from the sun. He’s got beauty marks all over, like a constellation you could chart, and his abs are just visible beneath the soft of his stomach. A trail of hair leading to the waistband of his pants and disappearing beneath them.

You’ve seen Steve shirtless plenty of times. Swimming and sleeping over in the summer, in high school when you used to go to his practices, but it hits you harder for some reason this time.

The way his hair is still a mess from sleep, his eyes a bit heavy. The way it feels to be greeting him in the kitchen, cooking breakfast. Intimate. Domestic.

You clear your throat and turn back around to pry the waffle maker open, revealing a slightly burnt but otherwise good-looking waffle. “I’m making breakfast. Coffee’s already in the pot, too.”

He walks over, his chest close to your back as he grabs a mug from the cabinet above you before heading over to pour himself a cup. He looks at the spread you’ve prepared, “Waffles, huh? What did I do to deserve all this?”

“Just wanted to do something nice for you,” you say as Steve walks over to lean against the counter next to you, his hip barely touching yours. “To thank you, in a way. For letting me stay and the dress and-”

“How many times do I have to tell you to stop thanking me?” He says, though his voice is soft and still a bit rough from sleep. “I like having you around.”

“So you don’t want the waffles then?”

“Oh, I want the waffles. I just don’t want you to feel like you have to do anything for me. It’s not some debt you’ll owe me, angel.”

“Want you to know I appreciate you is all,” you say, pouring a new scoop of batter into the waffle maker.

Steve, unsure of what exactly possesses him to do so, dips in and presses a kiss to the apple of your cheek, his lips a whisper away from your skin when he says, “I appreciate you, too.”

Then he pulls away and moves to set the table. Like it was natural.

And it was, in a way. How you moved around each other in the kitchen. You leaning out of the way when he needed to reach something you were blocking, him putting a hand on your lower back when he walked behind you so you knew he was there.

Your cheek still tingles from where he’d kissed it when you bring the plate of waffles to the table, your skin somehow even warmer under his gaze, like he’s still remembering exactly how it felt, too.

You sit in the chair beside Steve, not noticing the way he tugs it a bit closer to him with his foot before you sit down. Soon enough, both of you are digging in. Steve’s got more whipped cream on his plate than waffle (you tell him as much) and you’ve got your berries on the side the way you always do.

Neither of you work until later in the day, and it’s nice knowing that you can take your time. Steve tells you about the advice he gave Dustin about how to be ‘cooler’ in school (he’d told him that being cool is completely overrated, he knew from experience, and that being himself is the most important). You’d told him he was going soft with age.

You talk about anything at all. How Keith somehow manages both of your places of work, how he also somehow does both terribly. The way he says ‘if you have time to lean, you have time to clean’ while literally having Cheeto dust on his fingers. Laughing at each other’s impressions of him.

What the new highscores were at the arcade, what people were renting from Family Video.

You wonder what it’ll be like when you have to leave. When you’re living alone again.

Logically, you know you’ll still see Steve frequently, because he’s your favorite person and you can’t remember the last time you went longer than a few days without hanging out. Still, it’ll be different than right now, waking up in the same space and sharing breakfast and brushing your teeth side by side in the mirror.

You’ll miss it, you think.

Trying not to dwell on something that’s still a few weeks away, you take another bite of your waffle. Steve catches your chin and wipes off a bit of whipped cream from the corner of your mouth, then pulling away and sucking it off his thumb.

He goes back to his own plate without a thought. Like touching you just now was an instinct.

Then, he teases you, “These are a little crispy, angel. Maybe you should stick to letting me make breakfast in this household.”

You kick his leg under the table. “That’s a funny way of saying ‘thank you,’ Harrington.”

He kicks you back, much gentler than you’d been. “Thank you.”

“That’s what I thought.”

When you look at him, there’s an easy, boyish smile on his face.

A similar one stretches across your own lips.

-

Steve has had the thought pop up into his head a couple of times, that maybe he should’ve just asked you to live with him before you ever bought that apartment. Because having you around feels the most right things have ever felt in his house.

And though the circumstances of your moving in with him (temporarily, he has to remind himself), were far from ideal, he can’t lie and say that he isn’t glad that you’ve ended up sharing his space.

The room across the hall will always be yours, even when you move back to your place.

He knows that you feel indebted to him for all of it, but if anyone owes the other something, he feels like it’s him. For everything you’ve ever done for him. Sticking around even when he was an asshole in highschool, defending him to his parents whenever you’d cross paths, simply being the kind of friend he needed.

Even when you’re not around, he can picture your face, the way your smile spreads slowly until you’re fucking beaming. Worse, the way you cried into his chest that day at your apartment.

He remembers the crack in your voice when you spoke about that picture frame from summer camp. Though he hasn’t seen you cry since, or even bring it up, he’s decided he wants to fix it. He’d told you he would.

Dustin wound up roped into his plan: find a similar frame, decorate it the exact same way, and scour the photo albums in Steve’s room for his copy of that same picture.

When he was younger, the photo albums pissed him off, because they were purely for show. Pictures of his family that were all fake smiles. Now, he’s glad for them, because at least he has some good memories to look back on. To know it wasn’t always all bad.

Steve probably should’ve thought that one through, because when they looked through his albums, he was on the receiving end of relentless teasing from Dustin. (“Dude, you have an insane boogie in this picture.” “I was four!”)

He hopes it’ll be worth it.

Dustin was the one who found the picture they’d been looking for, and he cheered and waved it in Steve’s face as if they’d been racing.

Now, after driving Dustin back home, decorating the frame the way the two of you did as kids, trying to make his handwriting look like it did back then (which wasn’t too difficult, ‘cause Steve’s writing still isn’t that neat), he’s waiting for you to come downstairs before giving it to you.

He’d picked you up after your shift at the arcade not too long ago, but he knows you like to shower and change as soon as you get home from work, so he’d taken the opportunity to wrap the frame and have it ready for you.

Steve can hear you singing in the shower, and he knows you’re done when it goes quiet. A few minutes later you’re walking down the stairs in a baggy t-shirt and silky sleep shorts.

His eyes, for some reason, linger on your legs for a second.

He stands up, frame in his hand, when you walk over. “I have something for you.”

“Steve! Stop buying me things. Seriously.”

“This thing was free, so you can’t even be mad,” he says, smiling almost sheepishly.

Your eyes search his face, flickering between his own and dipping down to his lips and his nose and back to his eyes. He looks… nervous.

Steve’s never nervous around you.

“Okay,” you say, shuffling on your feet. “What is it?”

“Here,” he hands you the poorly-wrapped frame. “Open it.”

You scrunch your brows at him once, because you have no idea what it could be. It isn’t your birthday, or any sort of holiday at all. With zero guesses, you look down at the light yellow wrapping paper in your hands and slowly tear it open.

What you find makes your eyes grow misty, tears pooling at your lash line but not quite falling.

It’s your favorite picture, the one of you and Steve in those stupid neon shirts with messy hair and dirt on your hands. Only now, it’s not water damaged, and the frame is new, but decorated just like the old one. You run your thumbs over the glass lightly, smiling down at little you and little Steve.

When you look back up at him, he’s already looking at you, his brown eyes all warm, his smile kind but also worried, waiting for your reaction.

Seeing his face springs you into motion, jumping forward and wrapping your arms around his neck tightly with the frame still in your hand. “Thank you,” you say into his skin.

Steve’s arms move to hold you around your waist without a thought. A reflex. They squeeze you close to him, his nose pressed into your damp hair, smelling your shampoo.

“It’s not perfect,” he says. “But I know how much you love that picture, and I wanted to fix it.”

“Steve. Shut up. It is perfect.”

“I’m glad you think so,” he says, his thumbs running back and forth against your back.

You hug for what could’ve been minutes, but neither of you moves to pull away first. You’re not sure if it’s still considered friendly to stand in each other's arms, breathing each other in, for so long, but you don’t care at the moment.

This is probably the nicest thing anyone’s done for you in a long, long time.

When you finally do pull away, you don’t go far. Your arms stay slung over his shoulders, Steve’s hands framing your hips. His thumbs still dragging those sweet patterns against you.

“I’m keeping it forever,” you tell him.

“You sure?” he asks.

“Certain. You’ll always be my best friend, Steve.”

“You’ll always be mine too, angel.”

Then, your eyes both move to each other’s lips, yours flick back up in a second, startled at their wandering.

Steve, however, is a bit transfixed. He looks at the slope of your cupid’s bow, the way your lips are shiny from your lip balm. He thinks it quickly, like a gust of wind that can’t be stopped: I really wanna kiss her right now.

Fuck. He wants to kiss his best friend.

He blinks a few times, clearing his throat and pulling back, letting his hands fall from your waist as yours slide off his shoulders. He misses the feel of your touch immediately, but he’s too freaked out and confused to do anything about it.

“What are you in the mood for tonight?” he asks, cutting off his own thoughts. “I brought back a horror and a comedy. Take your pick.”

“Mmm,” he picks up two tapes from the coffee table and holds them up for you to choose from. “Horror. Unless you’re too scared?”

“You’ll just have to hold my hand, then, won’t you?”

“I guess I will.”

You look back at the picture while Steve puts the movie into the player. You smile at it every time you see it, because you can still see parts of Steve in him now that were in him then.

His eyes, always kind, the way he smiles when he laughs, and about a half hour into the movie, the way he holds your hand and squeezes it when he’s scared.

-

You’re having one of those nights. The kind where sleep seems to be fighting you.

You worked a closing shift at the arcade, which usually lasts until late considering how long you’re open plus all of the cleaning you have to do afterwards. Today was no different, and despite how much later you finish than him at Family Video, Steve waited and drove you home. He hung out in the arcade with you until close, actually.

You’d think that after such a long day, the second your head hit the pillow you’d be out and breathing steadily. Today, that is not the case. You fell asleep for maybe an hour before a nightmare woke you up. You can’t quite remember what happened, only that you’d been yelling for Steve and he wasn’t there.

Groaning quietly, you rub your eyes and toss the blankets away. You stand up and head down to the kitchen in the dark, hand trailing along the walls to make sure you don’t bump into anything.

Just as you’re pouring yourself a glass of water, you hear the shuffle of sleepy footsteps coming into the kitchen.

“Holy shit,” he says, walking over to grab a glass, one hand on his bare chest. “I thought you were a ghost or something just now.”

You shift out of the way to let him get some water just like you did, taking the second that he’s distracted to look at him. His hair a mess, wearing nothing but his boxers. You take a big sip from your glass.

“I feel like I should be offended right now,” you say, “if you think I look like a ghost.”

“Shut up,” he says, dragging out the second word. His voice being rough from sleep makes his words sound much warmer than they are. “My eyes aren’t awake yet. Nothing to do with you, angel.”

You shake your head, though there’s a soft smile on your face the way there always seems to be when you try to be annoyed with Steve. You tilt your head at him, asking, “Couldn’t sleep?”

He shakes his head. “Been tossing and turning. Just can’t get comfortable, then I got pissed ‘cause I couldn’t get comfortable and only made it worse.”

“You would get pissed at that. Probably slapped your pillow like it was at fault.”

He folds his lips inwards and blinks at you. Because he did smack his pillow and call it a dipshit. “Why do you know everything? Spying on me?”

“Hate to say it, but you’re getting predictable, Harrington.” You shrug, then move to put your now empty glass in the dishwasher. “I know you too well.”

He looks at you, your hair falling across your shoulders, your pajama shorts riding up a little as you bend down. The moonlight slipping through the window seems to hit you perfectly. Like a halo.

Fitting, he thinks. You’re his angel, after all.

“Yeah, you do,” he agrees. Then, “What about you? Why’re you up?”

“Nightmare. Been forever since I had one.”

“You okay?” he asks, trailing a knuckle over your shoulder, pushing your hair behind it.

“Yeah,” you say, skin tingling where he’d touched you. “I can't even remember most of it, but now my brain won’t let me sleep.”

Steve wishes he could’ve protected you from whatever haunted you in your sleep. It’s silly, he knows, to think he might be able to ward away anything that hurts you, but he wants to, nonetheless.

He thinks about how comfortable he is whenever you cuddle during movie night. Your head on his shoulder or his chest, his hand on your back or waist.

So, he blurts, “Why don’t you sleep over?”

You furrow your brows at him, “Um, I’ve been sleeping over. A couple of weeks now, actually.”

“No, I mean, like in my room with me,” he says, suddenly shy at the idea. He’s grateful for the darkness, because he can feel his cheeks warming up. “A proper sleepover.”

You’ve done it before. Shared a bed a bunch of times, but for some reason your heart jumps when he says it. Your stomach swirls as you say, maybe a little too quickly, “Okay.”

Steve’s eyes widen like he’s surprised, just for a split second, before a soft smile takes over his face. He holds out a hand for you to take, “C’mon.”

Soon enough, Steve’s lifting his navy bedspread for you, letting you slip into bed next to him. He stays further away at first, letting you settle and lay on your side the way he knows you always do.

You blame sleepiness—or, maybe, the lack thereof—for the way you reach behind you for his arm and tug him closer, draping it over your own waist.

He obliges, of course, his arm securing itself across your stomach, palm spread out and warm against your sleep shirt. His chest is only a breath away from your back, though he keeps his lower half a little more distanced.

His thumb runs circles over your shirt, once, twice, three times before stilling, his forehead pressing to the back of your neck.

“Goodnight, angel,” he says into your hair.

Your hand splays itself on top of his. “Night, Steve.”

And suddenly your eyes grow heavier, and sleep doesn’t feel like much of a battle anymore.

-

You wake up the most rested you’ve felt in a while. There’s warmth surrounding you, but not the uncomfortable kind. The kind that feels safe.

Somehow, you and Steve are even closer than you’d been when you fell asleep. His arm is still around your waist, his other outstretched and tucked beneath your head like a pillow. His chest is flush to your back, and you can feel it expand with every breath he takes.

Most differently of all, however, is the way his hips are snug against the curve of your butt. And you can feel him hard against you.

Your skin feels even warmer than before when you notice.

Steve hasn’t woken up yet, you don’t think, because the faintest snores are getting puffed out against your shoulder where his face is tucked. His hand on your stomach has worked its way beneath your shirt, though, and his fingertips press against your skin, like he’s fighting to keep you close.

As if you’d go anywhere even in your sleep.

His knee is tucked between your legs, and you’re quickly realizing that it’d be pretty impossible to get out of bed without him noticing. You’re completely tangled together, a knot of limbs somehow fitting together just right. Like two puzzle pieces.

In his sleep, Steve’s mouth presses against the back of your shoulder, and only when you involuntarily shiver at the contact, does he stir.

It takes Steve a bit to really wake up, mumbling words that don’t make sense, scrunching his eyes shut even further before blinking them open. He’s met with the sight of you right in front of him. Body curved perfectly against his.

“Steve? You awake?” you ask, checking.

“Mhm,” he hums.

Then, something that has his cheeks flushing pink, he registers the feeling of his boner pressed against your ass. He shuffles them back enough so there’s space between you. “Fuck. Sorry.”

“It’s okay,” you say. Because he can’t control the way his body reacts while he’s asleep.

“I didn’t think-” he cuts himself off, because he’s not quite sure how to say I didn’t think about the whole morning wood factor or that I’d fucking plaster myself to you when I suggested a sleepover without sounding stupid. Instead, he just repeats, “I’m sorry.”

You twist yourself around to face him, sheets crumpling and twisting as you move. When you settle back onto the pillow and look at his face, at the redness on his cheeks and the tips of his ears, you squeeze his hand that’s now laying between you.

“It’s okay, really,” you say. “It’s, like, anatomy. You’re human, Steve.”

“I don’t want you to think I invited you to sleep in here for some pervy reason,” he says, scrunching his nose when he says it.

“I don’t think that at all,” you tell him. You squeeze his hand again. “We’ve shared a bed like, a hundred times by now. If anything I’m surprised this hasn’t happened already.”

“Oh my God,” he groans, shutting his eyes and pushing his face into the pillow.

“Steve,” you drag out his name, fighting a giggle at the way he’s acting. He’s got a reputation, after all, and how shy and embarrassed he seems to be doesn’t reflect the things you heard about him in high school. He’s changed a lot since then. “It’s seriously fine. We can pretend it never happened. Promise.”

Steve pulls his face from the pillow, eyes catching yours as his fingers squeeze yours back in appreciation. He lets his eyes wander a bit, at the messy bits of your hair around your face from sleeping, the marks in your cheek from the pillowcase, the way your sleep shirt has fallen off your shoulder.

He feels lucky to get to see you this way, right after you’ve woken up. Vulnerable, unguarded, beautiful.

It’s during this small stretch of silence that you realize how close your faces are now. You’re sharing a pillow, his nose not even an inch from yours. Shift forward the slightest bit, and they’d be touching. Your eyes trail down to his mouth, to the visible patch of chest hair and the freckles that dot his skin. He’s already looking right at you when your eyes flick back upwards.

You know Steve, could tell what he’s feeling just from the look on his face, but this is one you’ve never seen before. At least, not directed at you.

Steve moves first, his eyes a little darker than usual, shifting forward slightly, then looking at you. Daring you to make the next move.

“What if we didn’t forget about it?” he says. Quiet and scratchy.

You don’t have time to think before you move forward a bit, too. Your noses brush. “What would that mean?”

Steve doesn’t answer with words. Rather, he moves forward the final bit and brushes his lips against yours in a question mark of a kiss, giving you time to pull away.

You don’t.

Instead, the hand of yours that isn’t still holding his comes up to the back of his neck, gently encouraging him to do it again. His free hand tightens at your waist as he dips in a second time.

It isn’t as tentative now that you’ve urged him on. His lips meet yours more sure, more firm, but still soft against you. Neither of you cares one bit about morning breath, or about what this might change. As if the morning’s haze slows time, minds still a little sleepy.

You’re simply acting on instinct. And this feels too right to stop.

Soon enough it grows more heated, Steve shifting to hover over you, his elbows pushing into the mattress to hold himself up, his tongue sneaking out to lick against the seam of your lips for permission.

Just as you open up for him, the blaring sound of Steve's alarm cuts you off, pulling back with a gasp. He simply leans up on one arm and slams the snooze button—and you laugh, you laugh, at how hard he hits it—before diving back into you.

You feel hot all over, where one of Steve’s hands has moved to cup your jaw, his thumb running delicately against your face as his mouth moves against yours, practically devouring you. Where the blankets are still over your lower halves, trapping in heat. When he pulls back, looks into your eyes, fucking smiles all dopey and pretty, and then kisses you again.

It’s so good, you’re almost angry at yourself for not kissing him sooner.

You kiss until his alarm goes off again and Steve's forced to pry himself away from you, groaning about being on his ‘last tardy warning’ from Keith.

Still, he takes the time to kiss your forehead on his way out, Family Video vest slung over his shoulder, calling a sweet, “bye, angel,” on his way out. His hair’s still a mess from your fingers, and he doesn’t even seem to mind.

You stay in his bed longer than you probably should, blinking up at the ceiling, fingers pressed against your lips like you’re searching for physical proof that everything was real.

What the fuck just happened?

-

It’s been a couple of weeks, and Steve can’t stop thinking about that kiss. He doesn’t know it, but you can’t stop thinking about it either.

Neither of you have brought it up, and things have faded back to normal as if it had never happened. But you and Steve are both thinking the same things without knowing it. How good and natural and easy it felt, how, every now and then, you think about doing it again.

You talk and joke and watch movies and eat meals together the same way you always have, and it’d be so easy to stay that way, to never kiss again. But then, what if you could stay that way and kiss? Wouldn’t that be something close to perfect?

You lay awake thinking about it every few nights. Because, when you really reflect on your life and how intertwined it is with Steve’s, you realize that you’ve sort of always acted like a couple, minus the kissing and sex aspect. You go on what could easily be classified as dates—the movies, lunch or dinner—you cuddle on the couch almost nightly, and you’ve never shied away from physical touch with one another. Held hands, a palm on your back.

You haven’t brought it up with Steve because you haven’t even come to terms with it yourself. Feelings are so fucking confusing and messy and you’d like to have a better idea of what’s going on in your own head before asking him about his.

Meanwhile, Steve has allowed himself to come to terms with it. He’s in love with you.

He’s pretty sure he has been for a while. Months, maybe even years.

It hadn’t come easily, though. It was nights spent similarly to yours, running through interactions you’ve had and the way he felt that one time in senior year when you went on a date with some guy from your math class. Even then, a part of him felt wrong about it, that pit in his gut.

Then there were his shifts with Robin at Family Video where he’d practically spilled everything just to get her opinion. She looked up and sighed “thank you” before saying that it was nice of him to finally catch on.

Had he really been that obvious? All this time? And had he really been that oblivious to his own feelings?

Steve can’t answer those questions. He can’t say when his love for you changed from platonic to romantic, he just knows that it has and he doesn’t think he’ll ever come back from it.

You’re his best friend in the entire world, the prettiest girl he’s ever seen, and he can’t picture himself loving anyone but you so wholly.

He’s fucking terrified of losing you, but he’s also terrified of never telling you how he feels and testing that what if.

So, like a desperate idiot, he knocks on the door to Eddie’s trailer.

Eddie opens it after a minute and what sounded like him stubbing his toe, “oh, hey Harrington. More weed?”

“No, shut up. I need your help.”

“You,” Eddie points at Steve, then at himself, “need my help for something? Are you ill?”

“Okay,” Steve, dramatic and bitchy as usual, sighs and mutters something about this being a stupid idea and turns to leave.

“Come on,” Eddie laughs, “I’m just joking. What’s up?”

Soon enough, Steve’s sitting on Eddie’s couch, Eddie pacing in front of the coffee table like this is a very serious matter, and telling him pretty much everything. Your kiss, the train of thought it sparked.

“Basically I’m in love with her and I have no clue what to do,” Steve finishes, sinking back into the couch cushions. It squeaks as he shifts.

Eddie pauses, tugging at his bottom lip between his fingers, then looks at Steve and says, “You know I’ve never dated anyone in my life, right?”

Steve groans into his hands, “Why do all of my friends have to be losers with no dating lives.”

Eddie ignores that, because he can tell how affected Steve actually is by all of this. How much he cares. He walks over and sits down on the opposite end of the couch. “Have you ever thought of, I don’t know, telling her how you feel?”

Steve rests his elbows on his knees, leaning forward and letting his head hang for a moment before picking it up. “Of course I have, but I’m fuckin’ scared.”

“What’s the worst that could happen?”

“Um, she could reject me and not feel the same way and everything would be awkward because I ruined it and I’d lose my best friend in the entire world.”

“What if she does feel the same?” Eddie asks.

He’s both yours and Steve’s friend, he’s been around the both of you together. He’s seen the way you look at each other. Eddie might not be an expert, but it’s always looked a lot like love to him. He’s pretty sure the chances of you feeling the same are quite high.

“What do you mean?”

“What if she does feel the same and you never figure it out because you’re too afraid?” Eddie says. “Man, don’t you think that risk is worth taking?”

Steve thinks about it, and as much as he hates to admit it, Eddie’s right. He’d hate to always wonder, to lose out on the chance to really be with you when he knows it could be so good.

You are worth the risk to him.

“When the fuck did you become so wise, Munson?”

“Dunno,” Eddie shrugs. “Wanna smoke?”

Steve laughs, “Yes I do.”

-

With Steve gone at work and you off for the day, there’s been too much room for your thoughts to creep in. Too much silence.

You’ve already been thinking about things so much. Thinking about him so much, that in his absence, your mind seemed to work overtime to fill in the gaps.

You thought about the day he picked you up from your apartment, how quick he was to drop whatever he’d been doing and come over and help you and take you home with him. The day he took you shopping and bought you a dress because he thought you looked pretty in it, the way his fingers fiddled with the strap on your shoulder when you tried it on for him.

The day he gifted you a remade version of your favorite picture from summer camp because he knew how much it meant to you, the way you held on to each other afterwards.

How you’d been waiting for him to get home that night he went to Eddie’s, just to make sure he was okay. How when he came in, he smiled at the sight of you curled on the couch, and he kissed your cheek when he walked by like it was the easiest thing in the world.

Your brain knew he was high, you could smell the weed mingling with his cologne on his clothes when he leaned in close, but your heart didn’t care about that. It thumped in your chest the second he leaned in closer, even worse when his lips touched your cheek.

The realization hits you now like a shock, a quick zip of electricity running through your system. You fucking love him.

Sure, you’ve loved Steve practically your whole life, but this was different. You love him, love him. Like, you want to kiss him when he comes home from work and in the morning. You want him to introduce you as his girlfriend and to be able to call him your boyfriend.

You feel stupid for not realizing it sooner, because looking back on things now, knowing how you feel, you can see it written throughout your entire friendship. Holding hands and kissing foreheads and hands pushing hair away from faces.

For a second, you’re purely happy, because you get to be in love with your best friend and it feels as warm and sweet as sunlight. Then, the fear creeps in, and you’re scared. Scared of losing him, of making things weird, of change and doing the wrong thing.

So scared that you start to panic and pack up some of your things in your bag like you’re running away.

Truthfully, you’re not sure what else to do. You’ve never been in love before, you’ve never known it this way—so kind and unconditional. And your parents sure as hell didn’t set a good example for you. They’d fight, and someone would leave with the slam of a door, and then they’d be back and the cycle would continue.

You’re scared and confused and your instincts are telling you to run away even though the only place you really wanna be is with Steve. In his arms.

You’re stuffing clothes into your bag just to keep your hands busy, breathing hard and fast, when you hear the front door open and close. Steve’s quick to find you, his eyes scanning your room and then looking at you. “What are you doing?”

You feel like you might cry just looking at him. His brown eyes worried but warm as always, his hands stuffed into his pockets like he’s nervous.

“I thought you weren’t supposed to be home until later,” you say, hoping he can’t hear the shake in your voice.

“It was dead, so Keith let me off early. I-” Steve furrows his brows, “are you leaving?”

You nod. “I’ve been in your way long enough.”

“I told you, you’re never in my way.” Steve knows you, and he loves you, and he can tell that there’s something going on. That you’re panicked and trying to get away from whatever it is. He cares too much to let that happen. “I want you to stay.”

You want to stay, too. You just don’t know what comes next, and that unknown, the lack of control, of familiarity, it makes your hands shake.

Your mind doesn’t work the same when you’re afraid.

“Give me one good reason why I should stay, Steve. I’ve been taking up your space for weeks and-”

“Because I love you.” Steve cuts you off. He hadn’t planned on telling you this way, he wanted it to be romantic and perfect but he can’t wait any longer. Especially not when you’re trying to run away. “I’m in love with you. And I want you here.”

You immediately stop in your tracks, blinking up at him like you’re not sure you’d heard him correctly. “You- what?”

“I love you. Romantically. And I think I have for a really long time.”

“You’re not high again, are you?” You ask, your eyes a little misty.

Steve walks over to you and grabs both of your hands in his, making sure you’re looking at him, at the sincerity written all over his face, when he says, “Completely sober. I fucking love you and I want you to keep living with me, because this house doesn’t really feel like home unless you’re in it.”

“What about when my apartment is ready?”

He squeezes your hands. “Stay then, too. Stay forever.”

You look up at him, his hair falling over his forehead, his eyes so honest, a tentative smile on his mouth. The only boy you’ve ever loved.

You feel silly for trying to escape this when this is how it’s turning out. Steve had been brave just now, telling you he loves you and he wants you to stay, so you decide to be brave, too.

It’s easier than you thought it would be to say: “I love you, too, Steve. I feel the same. I only just realized it and freaked out. I’m so scared of losing you, is all.”

“You won’t. Not ever.”

You tip your chin up to kiss him after he says it, because you can. You pour your feelings into it, and Steve returns your kiss as if it’s one he’s known for years. It’s slow, and deep, and sweet, and so full of love you’re practically overflowing with it.

The two of you only pull away when you need a breather. Steve doesn’t go far, resting his forehead against yours.

“So what happens now?” You ask.

“Well, we’ve been acting like a couple for a while, I think, so we stay the same. Mostly. Except now I get to call you my girlfriend-”

“Um, I’m pretty sure you’re supposed to ask me first.”

He lets go of one of your hands and pushes a loose strand of hair behind your ear, his knuckle running lovingly across your cheek. “My angel girl, will you be my girlfriend?”

Your grin is wide and lovesick and cheesy and you don’t care one bit. “Yeah, yes I will. Boyfriend.”

“And, being your boyfriend means I get to do this.”

He kisses you once more. And you don’t ever want to not be kissing him again.

𝜗𝜚

thank you guys so much for reading!!! it would mean a whole bunch if you would consider leaving a comment or a reblog and letting me know what you think!! it helps more than you know <3

[singmyaubade]

Good Graces

exes!steddie x female!reader

summary: coming back from chicago, the last people you expected to see were you exes but for them, the only thing they wondered when they saw you was, what's it gonna take to get back in your good graces?

warnings: eventual smut! 18+ angst, cursing, reader wants to kill steve, , swearing, unprotected sex, praise, oral (male receiving), jealousy..

a/n: i feel like this is going to be a two-parter most likely but i wanted to write this so bad because i love the song off of short n' sweet. i don't usually write for steddie but i was craving this concept. anyways, i hope you and enjoy and as always, i apologize if you hate this.

You dragged your luggage with a grunt as you passed through baggage claim over to the exit. A part of you was thoroughly regretting bringing two big suitcases but if you were spending two months of your summer in Hawkins, Indiana.

You certainly needed it.

Your eyes wandered all over the place to spot your childhood friend and cousin, Robin. She excitedly waved her hand side to side, an ecstatic grin that reached both of her dimples.

You could spot the balloons and welcome home sign from a mile away and that was enough to confirm that was Robin.

She excitedly waved her hand side to side, an ecstatic grin that reached both of her dimples. She started racing towards you before she almost tripped over the decorations in her hand.

You giggled as you raced over to her to prevent her from causing actual damage to herself, "Jeez Robin, still clumsy?" You asked, snorting.

She rolled her eyes, "This is hard to carry all by yourself!" She exasperated, causing her to pout.

"Aww poor baby," You mocked, pinching her cheek as she swatted your hand away.

Instead of saying anything else, she hugged you. You smiled sweetly, embracing her back, glad to see her and talk to her instead of the same static on the telephone.

"I missed you," You whispered, smile still on your face.

"Uh, I missed you more!" Robin almost yelled, pulling away from you, "You have to tell me everything about Chicago," She said, grabbing on of your suitcases for you.

You started telling Robin about everything and she kept replying with her gasps and 'oohs' when you told her all about acting school.

Even you had to admit that going to Chicago straight out of high school was not exactly a sentence jotted down on your bucket list.

But when you get accepted to one of the top acting schools in Chicago, you can't exactly decline. Of course, you were sad to leave everything behind.

Your friends, your family, even the shitty diner on 15th street but you knew that you would come back to visit, it was guaranteed.

You usually would've stayed with your parents but they decided to go on a three month trip to the Caribbean but they did make it clearly that they would miss your presence.

And you were also glad to be able to spend time with Robin since you hadn't been able to see her in so long.

But you couldn't say you didn't miss her nosy questions or constant rambling,

"You have to tell me about all your latest conquests!" She said, driving but peeking her head at you to encourage you to answer.

You rolled your eyes, "I'm still perplexed that you can even drive, is it even legal for you to drive?" You snickered, changing the subject.

She scoffed, "Okay first of all, I am an amazing driver and second, you aren't changing the subject from the tragic discussion of your love life,"

You gasped offended, "My love life is not tragic!" You folded your arms, "And I just don't feel the need for something like that right now,"

Robin exasperated, "All you have told me about your love life is two exes who you literally call 'fuckface' and 'dickhead' which is not a confirmation of a successful love life," Robin ranted, "And you still have yet to tell me who these mystery men are!"

"They aren't important," You mumbled, nuzzling into the cold window.

Robin sighed, "You shouldn't let whoever those assholes were determine your love life, Y/N."

Robin wasn't usually serious with you but you knew that it did make her sad to see you never truly opening your heart because of two men that had screwed you over.

You shrugged as Robin looked at you, "But I'll still get you Benny's,"

You sat up in excitement, "Are you serious?" You asked, grinning ear to ear.

"Ugh yes, we can even eat the greasy burger in the car like old times," Robin said with a smile as you cheered.

By the time you and Robin had gotten your burgers, you were asking her about her life and what she had been up to as you bit into your greasy cheeseburger.

Robin shoved a few fries in her mouth before talking, "What do you wanna know?" She asked, mouthful.

You swallowed before answering, "Hmm... what are they like? But no names!"

Robin snorted, "Are you really still serious about the 'no name policy'?"

The 'no name policy' came from your acting school where you don't let someone introduce you to someone privately until you actually see them and you only learn their name when you see them.

And Robin also couldn't tell her friends who you were because that would be missing the entire point.

Robin thought it was stupid but you thought it was productive.

"Um yes!" You said loudly, "It's actually incredibly helpful when you think about it."

Robin chuckled, "What if you already know them?"

"Then I'll be reintroduced," You said, smugly.

"Alright," Robin said, "Well one of them is an absolute dingus to the maximum," You giggled as she went on, "But he is pretty funny and kind but clumsy when you meet him, I think you would like him,"

"He seems fun," You replied before Robin moved on.

"Then there's the other one, he's an absolute pothead and extremely eccentric but when you look past that, he's a pretty nice guy and actually really fun to be around, I think you would like him too." Robin said, eating the last bite of her burger.

"That's cool," You smiled.

Robin continued to go on about the different kids there and how the three adults including her were their babysitters which you thought was hilarious.

As you finished up your burger and fries, you threw the trash out before you and Robin were driving towards her house.

"Oh and also, we are going to one of their houses tonight," She said as she checked her watch, "Or as soon as you put your bags down because we are late!" She yelped, urgently parking.

You laughed as you both grabbed your luggage from the trunk, making your way inside the house and to her room. You barely had time to situate yourself before Robin was rushing you because of her own late actions.

By the time you could blink, you were both already inside the car, making it towards her friends house.

"Also," She cleared her throat, "He's kind of loaded so don't make a big deal out of it,"

"How rich are we talking?" You joked with a sly smile.

"Again, he's a dingus with no charm," Robin said, "You will forget he's rich extremely fast,"

You laughed, looking outside despite it being dark. A part of you really missed Hawkins considering you grew up there and you heavily missed the late night car drives that you took.

Another part of you though was scared that you might run into two individuals during your time back home but you were pretty sure Robin wouldn't ever even be in their social circle, let alone her area.

Robin pulled into a house and you couldn't really make out it's features but you could swear that you recognized the street.

Robin unbuckled her seatbelt as she spoke, "We've arrived," She said hauntingly as you giggled.

You both exited the car as you heard laughing and yelling on the inside which cause Robin to bang on the door with a heavy knock, almost as if she was the police.

You hissed at the knock as she shrugged before the door opened and the last person you had expected to see opened the door,

"Robin, I literally said the time to be here was seven, not eight!" He sighed, looking at her before locking eyes with you.

Steve fucking Harrington.

He still looked the exact same, brown curly strands still standing on his head, looking effortlessly perfect. His muscles flexing as he held open the door and same brown doe-eyed eyes that looked at you with a certain glint.

Not even his outfits had changed, same jeans and striped polo shirt, you wanted to choke him.

Or fuck him, it was hard to decide.

"Okay well, I had to pick my cousin up from the airport and I got sidetracked!" She whined, speaking to Steve but his eyes were locked onto yours, "And speaking of my cousin, this is Y/N." Robin introduced.

Silence sat there for a few more seconds that felt like minutes as you and Steve looked each other. He looked uneasy but you knew your face was showing a disgruntled look as Robin looked at the both of you.

He coughed, snapping out of it, "Uh hi,"

You stood there with the same look on her face as Robin looked like a lightbulb popped on top of her head.

Her mouth made an 'o' shape, "Do you guys know each other?"

"This is one of the exes," You said as you clicked your teeth and Robin looked as if she found out something outrageous.

"Wait which one? The one who broke up with you after taking your virginity and started dating another girl or the one you caught sleeping with another girl after his concert," Robin asked.

"Robin!" You squealed, looking at her as if you wanted to choke her.

"I'm curious!" She replied as Steve continued looking at the both of you with the same wide-eyed expression.

You waved her off before you looked back at Steve, "Whatever, I don't give a shit anymore," You said, shoving his shoulder as you entered the house you had seen a multitude of times before.

You and Steve Harrington's relationship was not something to call home about. You had dated him before he was Steve 'The King' Harrington. He was so sweet for the first part of your relationship, when it was the beginning of school and clique's weren't sorted.

This was until Carol and Tommy had recruited him and their first proclamation was that he dumped you if he ever wanted to be anything in Hawkins High.

So you met up with Steve that night and you both said that you had things to talk about. After some back and forth, he let you go first and you told him you were finally ready to give up your virginity.

And let's just say, instead of breaking up with you there and then, he decided to do the most absolute dickhead thing and take it anyway. After, you were happy and it was a great first time, Steve was kind and compassionate.

He drove you home and then your life hit a certain darkness when you went to school the next day. Instead of seeing your boyfriend immediately, Carol and Tommy approached you in the parking and they told you that Steve had broken up with you and found something better.

And then in between periods, you saw him and a girl named Susie Blickens extremely close to each other as she twirled her hair and he rested his hand above her head on the locker.

Not only did you wanna puke but you were fucking furious. Of course, you were sad, there wasn't counting how many times you had cried over him but eventually, all of it turned to anger.

He would walk past you as if nothing happened and that was when you swore that you would always hate his guts till the day you die.

Hence, why he looks like a dear in headlights seeing you.

As you entered the living room, you were greeted by all of the teenagers on the couch, causing absolute chaos.

A kid named Dustin introduced himself to you first, offering a handshake which made you laugh before he continued arguing with his friend.

The rest of them just smiled at you but you figured you would learn their names throughout the night.

You sat in the empty arm chair facing away from the front door and Steve in general. You could hear Robin and Steve whisper arguing but it did not intrigue you.

"So you go to school in Chicago?" A girl named Max asked you as you politely smiled.

"Yeah," You responded.

"And how is it?" A girl named El followed up.

"It's pretty fun, the windy city is exactly what you think it would be." You answered.

"Did you meet any cute boys?" Max asked as a boy you presumed was her boyfriend yelped a 'hey!'

You both giggled, "They are pretty okay but they aren't as interesting as you would think."

The two girls you were talking to giggled as they began whispering as you clapped your hands in your lap, looking around Steve's house.

Nothing had changed much but you were happy to see more pictures added to the walls. You knew Steve didn't have the best relationship with his parents but in a way, his house looked more homely.

Maybe he did that himself.

You watched the kids bicker a few minutes more as you watched the dynamics between them all. You were actually having a semi good time for the most part and were pretty sure the night couldn't get worse.

You felt a hand cup the top of the arm rest before speaking, "Wow, you let the pretty girl steal my seat," The voice you recognized all too well spoke.

Oh fuck no.

You looked behind you to see Eddie Munson who had the same expression that Steve did, trying his best to find the words to say to you.

"Are you fucking kidding me?" You asked as the kids snapped their neck at your foul language.

Eddie gulped, "Y/N,"

You were pretty sure a vein was popping from your forehead and by the way Eddie was looking at you, it was almost as if your hair was on fire.

"Is Robin friends with every asshole in Hawkins?" You meant to ask in your head but said it instead out loud.

"Maybe," Eddie sent an awkward laugh which only made you angrier, "Listen, I know we didn't end on the best of-" He started.

You stopped him immediately, "Are you seriously about to say the best of terms? You fucking cheated on me!" You yelled as Eddie hissed in pain, as if you were touching him with a hot iron.

The kids gasped, full attention on you and Eddie but there was not a bone in your body that cared.

"Y/N, I swear I've changed and I tried apologizing many times," He tried his best to mediate but it was to no avail.

"I meant what I said the day you did it, you can go fuck yourself and I will hate you till the I die," You spat, pushing past him, moving towards Robin.

With Eddie, you didn't need that many words to explain the situation. He was different from Steve and the second boy that you genuinely liked. He made you laugh and gave you free pot which was both a great deal.

And you had to admit that he gave the best head to ever exist.

But when you went to one of his concerts for his band, Corroded Coffin, you went backstage to surprise him and caught a blonde giving him head.

He almost had the same look he had when he just saw you.

But let's just say it didn't end the best when you grabbed the blonde haired girl by her hair and started hitting Eddie with the fan you were using to cool yourself down.

It took a while for Gareth to get you off of Eddie but you eventually just walked away and never spoke to Eddie again despite his desperate tries over the phone and at your house.

And that was that.

Steve was next to Robin but she swatted him away as she sees you approaching, "How did you manage to become friends with the two most heinous men in Hawkins?" You asked, genuinely pissed.

Robin looked lost for words, "I mean okay, I get that maybe you would've dated one but I didn't expect for you to date both Steve Harrington and Eddie Munson!" She rambled, "I can't believe those are the faces behind fuckface and dickhead,"

"It's not your fault," You groaned, "I'm just shocked and choosing whether to kill them or just heavily injure them." Your jaw moved to the side as you glanced behind them as they were both peering at you, looking away once you saw them, trying to play it off.

"Listen, I know they are absolute buttheads but I swear they've changed and I won't try to convince you but I'm begging you to give them a chance," Robin implored.

You sighed, not wanting to cause a rift between Robin and her friends even if you hated them more than anything in the world.

"Okay," Is all you said as Robin let out a breath.

"Okay," She repeated.

She led you both to the couch as you sat down next to her on the big couch with Eddie peering at you in his armchair and Steve running his hand through his hair aggressively as he sat next to Robin.

Even the kids could feel the tension in the room. Robin broke the silence with a laugh before speaking, "Okay! How about we play Monopoly?" She asked as everyone agreed in little 'yeahs' and 'sures.'

You were surprised Eddie didn't argue for D & D.

Mike grabbed the game, laying it in on the coffee table. The kids yelled for which little figurines they wanted but Steve quickly snatched the dog before looking at you.

He reached over Robin to hand it to you as you looked at him with a hateful expression, "Uh, I just remember it being your favorite to play with." He muttered.

A part of you wanted to scoff and grab another figurine but he had been right, it was your favorite.

Sadly, it only brought you back the the memories of when you and Steve dated.

"I still don't understand why you like playing this game considering I always school you," You cockily said as Steve mockingly laughed.

His face went close to yours, "We always know I win," He said, giving you a light peck before you could respond.

You smiled, "Alright Harrington, let's test your bluff,"

He set the game down on the table as he began setting up the board and the money.

You reached to grab your dog figurine before he snatched it from you within seconds, causing you to frown.

"But if I take your good luck charm, maybe I could win," He snickered as you rolled your eyes.

"In your dreams," You said, acting like you didn't care.

Steve watched you with a grin for a few seconds before approaching you, slipping the dog into your grip.

You smiled sweetly as Harrington grabbed your waist, "I'll always let you have the dog if it means I get to see you happy,"

You scrunched your nose, "You are the corniest person I know,"

"You know you love it," He whispered, kissing you again,

You hesitated, taking the miniature sized dog, not daring to say anything to him. Steve watched to see if you would smile but your facial reaction didn't change.

He frowned as Eddie began speaking, "Okay, let's do this!"

The kids immediately started to somehow play Monopoly aggressive which only earned a laugh from you. What made you laugh even harder was seeing how passionate Eddie, Steve, and Robin were about the game.

A little part of you had missed being around all of them in their own separate way.

Chicago was fun but it didn't have the same home feeling that you got when you were back at Hawkins.

After a couple rounds and your money only slipping, you excused yourself to get a soda.

"Do you need help finding anything?" Steve asked, already ready to get up from his seat.

"I'm sure I'll be fine," You said quickly, moving towards the kitchen.

Steve sunk into his seat as you began reaching to grab a cup from the cupboard above you. Before you could go on your tippy toes, a taller hand grabbed it for you as you sighed.

You turned around to see Eddie only inches away from you as he placed the glass down next to you.

You only glared at him as he smirked, eyeing you up and down which only earned a scoff from you.

Not that you would ever say this out loud, Eddie still never hesitated to make you nervous. From his tattoos to leather jacket and the way he would eye you, it made you feel like a teen girl again.

He was still the bad boy and as much as you wanted to act unbothered, it still turned you on.

Silence passed between the both of you for several seconds, trying to see who would break first.

"Can you not?" You asked, crossing your arms.

"She speaks!" He over-dramatically yells!

"You are a joke," You said, trying to move past him as he only caged you in.

He leaned down to whisper in your ear, "You used to like it,"

A shiver crept down your spine as you tried to keep your composure.

"You are not gonna flirt your way into getting me to forget that you cheated on me!" You argued as Eddie swirled his tongue in his mouth, looking up with a hand still leaning on the cupboard.

"How many times do I have to apologize?" He asked, looking at you.

"Instead of apologizing, I can suggest you trying to go fuck yourself," You spat, shoving him but he still kept his body in the same place.

"I just don't do it like you," He pouted which only caused red, hot anger to fill you.

You slapped him which only caused a smile from Eddie as he moved closer to your face, a hand moving to your waist.

"There she is," He grinned against your ear as you looked at Eddie, a part of you wanting to close the gap.

Suddenly, you heard a cough from behind Eddie as you looked over to see Steve. He looked flustered, watching the sight of you and Eddie.

You finally pushed Eddie hard out of the way, moving past Steve before exiting as you rushed over to Robin, "Can we leave now?" You asked, a begging look in your eyes.

"Yeah, why?" She asked, looking at you but you only pleaded with your eyes,

"Okay, let me just tell Steve." She said, handing you her keys.

You quickly said your goodbye's to the teens as you exited outside of the door before Eddie or Steve could catch up to you. You went inside the passenger side of the car as you wanted to scream.

The hatred you felt for Steve and Eddie was consuming but a heavier force was the effect they still had on you.

Steve was kind and compassionate, showing you the golden side of love which you always showered in.

And then there's Eddie who's rough and taunting, showing you the toxic side which never failed to make you falter within seconds.

Instead of only having one to resist, both only made you more turned on.

And if you were feeling this now,

Who knows how the rest of the summer will go?

[ashwhowrites]

Alright! So, Steve and Reader was in that stage when they're about to become a couple but then Nancy showed that on/off interest again and Steve pushed reader away. Nancy turned out to just feel lonely due to Jonathan being in California and didn't mean anything.

Steve now nurses hopes that Reader will give him another chance. Until he finds out through the grapewine (walkies) that Reader got dosed at a party but she called Eddie for help and he took her to the hospital.

And when Steve arrives, all hurt because she called Eddie and not him, she and Eddie is hugging and them finally telling each other they are in love. Leaving Steve standing there, contemplating what he's lost

I hope this is what you wanted and you enjoy it! Thank you for requesting 🫶🏻

Runaway girl

Y/N and Steve were the hot new gossip around the town. People were shocked to hear that Steve was finally moving on from his past with Nancy. Many people didn't think it was possible, but Steve had his head turned and stuck on Y/N.

Y/N was happier than ever. She always had a soft spot for Steve, and with his pretty looks, it didn't take long to fall at his feet. She had been patient and waiting for the day they could be official. But she knew Steve needed time.

She wasn't sure how much time was too much time. After four months of dating, kissing, and being together, she thought he would ask by now. Doubt filled her the longer Steve didn't ask.

While Steve took his time, he was unaware of someone who didn't need time to figure out his feelings.

Eddie had his eyes set on Y/N for the last few months. Of course, to his luck, she was hooked on Steve's arm. Eddie knew there was no way he could beat out the pretty boy of Hawkins. So he settled for a friendship and kept his feelings to himself.

But he couldn't help but wonder what Steve's problem was, and why he dragged his feet. If Y/N was anywhere near into Eddie, he would have made the move before anyone else could. But it was Steve, and he probably knew no one would step on his toes.

~~~

Steve sat in his backyard, sharing a cigarette with Nancy. She popped over and Steve was never one to turn her down. He liked when she wanted to talk to him when she wanted to be in his presence. Truthfully, a part of him refused to give up on her, on them. He had this glimmer of hope that they were still tied together and that would help them find each other again.

"You and Y/N have been dating a while, gonna capitalize on that?" Nancy asked, exhaling the smoke as she passed the stick over.

Steve shrugged and inhaled the cigarette, wishing it would answer for him.

"Uh, I'm not sure."

Nancy nodded, a knowing look in her eyes

"How are you and Jonathan?" Steve asked, passing the stick back to her. He watched as her lips formed around the cigarette and her body intake the smoke.

She shrugged, "I don't know. I think we might break up."

Steve saw his glimmer of hope expanding right before his eyes

"How come?"

"The distance is so hard. I just think of when you and I were together. How easy it was to be in the same state and town." She sighed, her eyes looking into Steve's wanting ones.

Steve got lost in the familiar look in her eyes

"Too bad someone else has your attention now," she whispered before she looked away.

~~~

Y/N sighed as she dialed the familiar number

It rang once before he picked up

"Munson"

"Hey it's me, could you pick me up?" Y/N asked as she looked around the diner

"Deadbeat not show again?" Eddie said, he sounded annoyed and he deserved to be. He always had to pick her up when Steve decided to bail. "Where are you?" He asked, already grabbing his keys.

~

Eddie pulled up to see her sitting on the curb. She wore a simple shirt with jeans, but she was breathtaking.

She stood up once he parked. But he was already walking towards her. He opened his arms and she wrapped her arms around him. She held back her tears as she felt comfort in his warmth.

"Hungry?" He asked, his voice muffled in her hair

He felt her nod against his chest

"Well I know this great place and it's not too far away. Wanna join me?" He asked

She pulled back and smiled. Her heart skipped as he smiled back at her. Throughout all the pain Steve caused, Eddie was the one who healed her. She felt something towards him, something she wished she and Steve could have.

She accepted his hand and laughed when he walked them through the diner doors.

~

"Thanks for always helping me out," Y/N said, shyly looking up from her burger

"When are you going to push him to the curb? He's been toying with you for the past few weeks." Eddie sighed. It hurt him as much as it hurt her. But Steve would always be pulled in Nancy's direction.

"It's hard, Eddie. I put in so much work for him and me to work out, I struggle to just give up on it." Y/N sighed

"Listen, I'm saying this as a friend. I really care about you, and he doesn't. He doesn't love you and he's not going to. It'll forever be Nancy. And you deserve to be treasured for being you. You beat Nancy in my book any day." Eddie said as he reached forward and held her free hand.

"I'll never be her," Y/N said sadly

"And you don't need to be her to be loved."

Y/N looked up at Eddie and gave him a small smile. He was right, she could find someone who loved her for her

And he was sitting across from her

~~~

Y/N wasn't sure why she attended the party. She wasn't one to get trashed on the weekends but Eddie was busy and she didn't want to be alone.

Her life had picked up ever since she gave up on Steve. He wanted to push her away so she made it easier. Eddie was what she needed and boy did she want him. He was gorgeous, inside and out.

His humor always made her laugh, she never felt sad around him. His smile froze her in the spot but made her stomach flutter when he pressed it against her lips. It's been months and months of feeling wanted and loved. But she found herself in that same spot, wondering when they'd speak about their feelings and make it official.

With all that on her mind, she needed a way to let loose. She planned one drink or two. But somehow the first drink had her thrown off. She could feel her skin melting in sweat, her head pounded and she felt the need to throw up everything she ever ate.

She found the closest phone and dialed someone she knew would show up.

~~

Steve sat on his couch as he ate a slice of pizza. The gang was eating a quick dinner before the boys would leave for hellfire, Dustin was already with Eddie. Which bugged Steve, but whatever. Nancy wasn't around, she went to California to save her relationship. Leaving Steve an idiot once more.

"HELLFIRE CANCELED. Y/N IS IN THE HOSPITAL"

Steve's ears rang as the walkie traveled through the living room. Panic in everyone's eyes are they flew off the couch.

Steve felt like he was transported to the hospital, he barely remembered leaving his house. He knew he just had to get to her. He felt anxiety taking over as he raced through the halls. He never worried about losing her, but now it was all he feared.

He found her room but froze as Eddie sat on the chair next to her. He zoned in on their hands intertwined and how close his face was to hers.

When the fuck did that happen?

"I'm so glad you called me. Happy you are safe and with me." Eddie said, Steve felt the blow to his chest. She called Eddie? Since when did she have Eddie's number.

"I was so scared and all I wanted was for you to be there." Y/N cried, the events still creating tears in her eyes. Eddie pulled her into a hug. Squeezing her tight to remind her he was there now

"I love you so much, and I don't know what I'd do if you weren't here." She sobbed

Steve felt his heart tug

He was so lost in making sure Nancy wouldn't leave, he forgot that Y/N could too. He figured he'd win her back like he always did. A sorry smile and puppy eyes, saying he won't do it again. But they both knew he would.

"I love you too,"

Steve swallowed the lump in his throat as they shared a tearful kiss

"Oh good you're here!" Dustin said relieved as he ran into Steve, standing outside her door.

"I'm just leaving" Steve snapped as he walked out.

Tags!

@bmunson86 @mxcheese @ladymunson @michaelfuckinglangdon @z0mbie-blah @biittersweet @mirrorsstuff @somethingvicked @micheledawn1975 @ago-godance @magnificantmermaid @tlclick73 @hargrovesswifee @cityofidek @silky-luxe @lokiofasgard616 @loving-and-dreaming @eddiemunsonsbitch69 @thegemaqua @ashlynnkennedy @strangerthingsstories5255 @harringt8ns @pleasinghellfire @whoscamila @stusdollface93 @gretavankleep37 @bellaisswagger @arlxt @ineedmentalhelp123

[whoahoney]

i’ll always be here…

Steve Harrington x Reader Request

Summary: Reader is late for her period and Steve comforts her

Content Warnings: pregnancy scare, mentions of sex, mature themes and language, pining, love confession, fluff, comfort, slight angst, ✨gets a lil spicy at times✨pervy thoughts

A/N: requested by one of my lovelies, please enjoy this sweet fluffy fluff just for you! I’m so glad everything worked out! you know who you are 💖

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

‘How late is late enough???’

She’d wondered yet again, staring at her closet where the pregnancy test stayed hidden at the back, wrapped in a plastic sack, stuck in a brown bag, stuffed inside an old shoebox of rocks she’s kept her whole life. Granted it was a great hiding place for weed, she really didn’t need to hide it from anyone.

She just didn’t want it staring at her.

And now she was left wondering, over and over again if she could take the test yet. And then into the rabbit hole of ‘If I could, would I? Could I?’

Approximately five weeks ago, Y/n partook in a drunken fling, a cute boy from her psych class who happened to be at a party her friend dragged her to. She’d been especially mopey since she hadn’t heard much from her good friend Steve— otherwise known as the love of her life.

The beginning of the school year was always busy for both of them, Steve going to trade school closer to home and her going to a state university in the city. They’d kept up with their weekly phone calls, sometimes skipping one in between every once in a while, but around Halloween things kinda fell off on Steve’s end.

She’d spoken to his answering machine too many times to try again, beginning to feel like a desperate ex.

“C’mon, he’s not your boyfriend, why don’t you come to the party and get one?? It won’t be hard for you! Maybe then Harrington will wake the fuck up!” Her roommate Brandi cried from the front door, her blue shimmery dress matching her eyeshadow perfectly. She sauntered into the living room and looked over her friend's state.

“If you come with, I’ll get us cookies after.” She proposed, her arms crossed and eyes narrowed. Y/n weighed the offer and sighed exasperatedly, “You know I can’t turn down drunk cookies.”

Brandi celebrated as Y/n trudged back to her room to make herself presentable.

When they were at the party, Brandi spotted Cole Walker and waved him over, his stunning smile set on Y/n. “Look who’s coming over.” Brandi murmured in her ear. When Y/n saw Cole she blanched, catching the sight of his quaffed hair and square chin, believing him to be Steve for a moment as he took off his dark sunglasses. When she realized it was Cole, she felt a different feeling; first disappointment but then… opportunity?

Cole nodded at the both of them cordially, “It’s good to see you! I didn’t know you came to these.” He’d said to her. Y/n chuckled and shook her head, “I don’t!”

And three hours later, she was sneaking out of his dorm. He’d passed out seconds after he came, and neither of them had even stopped to think about protection.

So today, she sat here and waited; welcoming any and all incoming cramps or maybe an unexpected gush when she stood.

Anything. Please, God, anything.

And suddenly, her phone rang. She jumped and took a deep breath before she picked it up carefully, placing it up to her ear. “Hello?”

“There you are! God, have I missed you.” Steve breathed in relief.

Y/n stifled her gasp, tears welling up in her eyes at his voice alone. “Steve! Hi! Oh my god!” She smiled before her heart dropped back into her stomach. “Where have you been?!” She asked urgently.

“I know, I know, I’m really sorry.. I know I’ve been kinda MIA—“

“—Kinda?!”

“Okay, really MIA,” He edited. “This shits a lot harder than I thought it would be, Y’know? The workload is double, I still haven’t made any friends—my charm is not working, like at all,” she could practically see him counting off the reasons his life was going out of control on his fingers, “I have signed up for every study group I possibly can and by the end of this I am determined I will be the greatest pharmacist you’ve ever dreamed of.” He promised, slumping back in his swivel chair at his desk in his bare apartment. “It’s just gonna take all of my sanity, time, and money.” He chuckled.

For a moment while he rambled she forgot all about her troubles from the last month and some, just listening to his voice over the line was comfort enough. “So, what have you been up to?” Is all that brought her back to earth.

“Oh, you know…” she fiddled with the cord as she searched for an answer. She wasn’t the best with lies, let alone lying to Steve. “This and.. and that.” She cringed.

“This and that, eh? You been staying out of trouble?” He joked, though he waited for her response to gauge her answer.

“Oh, you know me.” She chuckled half heartedly.

And that’s how Steve knew. “Cut the crap, L/n, talk to me—what’s wrong?” He asked quieter.

“Nothing, Steve, don’t worry—“

“So there IS something!” He accused.

Her mouth ran dry and Brandi’s boyfriend knocked on her door to tell her they were home with dinner. “Hey, Steve, I gotta go, but, uh, I’ll call you later!” She said and hung up without a goodbye before she could catch herself.

Steve sat dumbfounded and had no other choice than to wonder why she shut down so quickly.

There had been a man’s voice in the background, was there someone else? Is that why she had to go so fast without saying goodbye? The anxiety began to eat him from the inside out, standing him to his feet and pacing the room for a bit. After another long and grueling internal struggle, Steve hopped in his car and drove the three hours to see the girl that lived in his head rent free from the moment he met her.

By the time Steve was knocking on her door, Y/n and Brandi were in their pj’s and watching the X Files on tv, the thumping making them jump and cry out in fear. “Fuck! This alien shit has me too wound up.” Brandi shuffled quietly to the hallway, waiting to grab her baseball bat until after Y/n looked through the peephole.

“It’s Steve!” She whispered and turned to her equally surprised friend. Brandi motioned for her to get the door as she scurried away to her room to give them privacy.

Y/n looked down at her large shirt and slippers, pushing her hair behind her ears and straightening her glasses before she opened the door. Of course he had to look like that. All perfect and smiley and happy to see her with that special glitter to his eye that seemed to only be present when she was around. “Steve.” She said easily as if she hadn’t checked.

“Hey, I’m sorry, is this a bad time?” He asked, scanning the apartment behind her for any trace of a visitor. She shook her head, “No! No, Brandi just went to bed.”

Steve nodded as she stepped to the side and allowed him into the house. He lingered in the small kitchen as he waited for her to lock the door back.

“I’m really happy to see you, but what are you, uh, doing here?” She asked.

Steve chuckled and cleared his throat uneasily before asking for some water, to which she obliged immediately. “Can we, uh, go to your room?” He asked after a sip. Y/n’s eyebrows raised, though it wasn’t a strange request, only strange circumstances.

“Yeah! Sure, right this way.” She attempted an easy joke as she led him through the dim house. Her heart pounded in her chest, wandering—spiraling into fear. Was this impromptu visit coming with news? Is that why he wants to be even more alone??

She shut the door behind him, smiling lightly when she saw him flop onto the end of her bed, his hair bouncing with him as he snatched a pillow from the head of the mattress and held it to him in a snuggle. “Okay, will you tell me what’s going on now?” She asked, joining him on the opposite side as she normally would.

Steve shot up, “I was gonna ask you the same question.” Y/n began to chew on her thumbnail as she pondered the possibilities.

It’s just a scare, he’s your best friend, the last person to judge you or hate you.

He wouldn’t hate her, right?

As she lost herself to her thoughts, she didn’t notice Steve right himself and scoot closer, their thighs touching. “C’mon, honey, talk to me. Are you okay?” He held her hand tenderly, sparks shooting up her arm at the contact. She took a soft gasp between her lips before exhaling with a tremble.

“I-I don’t know how to tell you, Steve.” She shrugged, waiting for the right words to formulate in her head on their own. Steve took a worried lip between his teeth as he waited.

This was it. She found a boyfriend and couldn’t be his friend anymore.

He prepared himself for counter-arguments, thinking of examples to show his honor and integrity. He thought about the many years spent together doing homework, getting food, late night phone calls when they couldn’t sleep. Did he know she whenever there was Steve, there was Y/n. And he couldn’t bear to let that fall apart over some guy.

“You don’t have to, Y/n/n, I-I shouldn’t have come until you asked.” He shook his head at himself.

“No!” She blurted. Steve looked at her with wide eyes and a gaping mouth, his ears tuned in to hear everything she had to say. “—No, I want you here. I’m so glad you’re here, Steve—“ she choked on an unexpected sob.

Steve looked at her strangely and scooted closer, placing a hand on her bare knee. “Then what is it? You can tell me anything, you know that right?” He stared at the side of her head, his brown eyes desperate and shiny.

She turned to him, her eyes already tinged with pink, and sighed, chewing on the inside of her bottom lip until it was bloody. “I’m late for my period.” She uttered.

Steve nodded, though nothing seemed to register in his mind— as long as he’d known Y/n she hadn’t mentioned any guys, let alone sex. He’d known she wasn’t a virgin, but through their friendship she hadn’t shown any interest in hookups. She placed her hand on his and sighed to keep herself from throwing up.

“It was some holiday party Brandi invited me to,” she explained slowly, Steve’s eyes snapping back up to meet hers. Where was this headed? “This guy from my psych class was there, and we talked and like…hit it off…” she shrugged, absolutely loathing herself for having to tell this story. This is the moment she should’ve been thinking about when she was walking back to Cole’s dorm at the end of the night. Steve’s face was full of confusion and disappointment, in her or for himself, she didn’t know.

He’d tried desperately to get over her, no amount of one night stands or bottle blondes could dissolve the hold she had on him. And she didn’t even notice it. Not even once. Steve eventually accepted she wasn’t interested in him farther than being a good friend. He quickly decided if he was stuck in the friend zone, he’d be the best friend she ever had.

“Oh!” He managed, quiet surprise lacing his voice though his eyes turned away from her, the simple action driving a stake into her chest, “So… does your… your boyfriend know this is—”

“He’s not my boyfriend—I haven’t even looked in his direction since— it was a mistake I was just—“ she cut herself off before she could further spill more embarrassing information to the boy she craved so desperately. Lovers or not, she needed his support. She had no idea how she managed before him.

Steve met her eyes again at her revelation, his shoulders and head looking lighter than before. “Just what?”

She breathed regretfully, knowing things couldn’t possibly get worse from here. “I was just—lonely?” She shrugged, her eyes on the floor.

There was a thick silence between them, the tv was audible from the living room on the other side of the wall. Steve took a deep breath and listened to the ache in his chest; thinking about the guy that got to have her in ways he’d only allowed himself to imagine.

“I’m sorry.” He whispered right as she did. He looked at her with the most confusion he’d worn all evening. “Why are you sorry?” He asked.

She shook her head, “Uh, I-I dunno, Steve. I just—I dunno, I felt like I was lying to you, I don’t wanna do that.” Tears pricked her eyes as she fought them with teeth sinking into her lip. Steve noticed the white knuckles on top of her balled up fists and scooted closer until they touched. He took her hand and uncurled her fingers, running his thumb over her palm to soothe the indentions she’d left.

“You haven’t done anything wrong, honey.” He urged in a whisper, his other hand coming up to her face to stroke the red and worried lip she’d just set free. “H-How… late are you?” He asked tentatively, still looking down at their intertwined hands.

“Three days.” She said quietly.

Steve cracked a small smile, “Hey, that’s okay! That’s only three days—and y’know, I read in a magazine one time that ‘stress can deter a woman’s cycle’, is that real??” He asked with a pointed finger.

A weight had been lifted off her as she thought about it. “I mean, yeah, that would make sense…” she nodded.

“See! Maybe take some time and next week if you’re still late, take a test. But I want you to know,” he said, his manner shifting as he looked her intently in the eyes again, “No matter what happens—with this or anything else— I will be right behind you.”

She sighed, tears welling up in her eyes at the affirmation. “Y-You promise?” She could only ask in a rasp, her eyes glittering with tears and her face crumpling. Steve’s brows wrinkled and he pulled her in for a tight hug.

“I got you.” He whispered to her. “Even if you didn’t want me.” He mentioned, though he wasn’t sure why he did.

His mind still floated back to the guy she’d shared the night with; What had he looked like? What was his major? Was he funny? Charming like him? Did he know she made funny face pancakes when she was sad and took walks on pretty days when she was happy? Did he know there’s a spot at the crook of her elbow that is unbelievably ticklish and that he wished so badly to plant relentless kisses there until she was choking on her own laughter.

“I’ll always want you, Steve.” She said without thinking, burying her nose in his shirt and breathing in the hints of coconut from his soap and contently sighing her exhale.

His eyes perked at the sound of that. “Really? Y’promise?” He asked before releasing her so he could see her face.

“Always.” She nodded sincerely.

Steve spent the night, happily taking the open spot in her bed. They laid facing each other, leaving a generous distance between them. Things were quiet but comfortable since their big conversation. The air was thick with silence in her dark bedroom, the blue hue of night streaming in through the open blinds and exposing the moon.

“Y’know…” Steve began carefully, still mapping his words, “If worst comes to worst… the kid could be a Harrington.” He shrugged.

Y/n crinkled her brow, studying his almost hopeful eyes. She shook her head, “Steve, no, that’s not—that’s so not fair to you. You don’t have to save me from my mistakes. Whatever happens I’ll figure—“

“—We. We will figure something out, like we always do. Y’know how many pickles you’ve gotten me out of?!” He asked incredulously, as if he were offering to put her name on a project or gift she had no part of. Not offering to raise her theoretical bastard child with her and sacrifice his own love life and happiness to protect and support his friend.

“Steve this is more than just a pickle— this isn’t distracting your grandma so you can sneak back into your room, okay? This is- this is your dream! If you do that for me, you won’t get your-your brood of Harringtons or a barbie doll housewife, and you deserve to have those things! I don’t want you to waste your life on someone you don’t love that way.”

Steve shot up in bed and looked down at her with bulging eyes. “Are you kidding me?! Is it really not obvious?” His brows were skewed with his fluster.

She shook her head and sat up on her elbows. “What?”

Steve scoffed a laugh of disbelief and covered his face with his hands and groaned while flopping back onto his back. He sighed and covered up. “Nothing, it was dumb—you should sleep.” He sighed and rolled over, her heart plummeting into her stomach.

“No!” She sat up again and tapped on his back gently, even just feeling the warmth of him under her fingers had her heart stuttering. “No, it’s not dumb, I-I’d love nothing more than to have you with me through this. I couldn’t do it without you, believe me. But it’s not fair to let you c-commit to me that way.” She explained.

Steve looked over his shoulder with hurt in his eyes. “Y/n/n… being with you is my dream. Whatever we’re doing.” He shrugged simply.

Y/n gaped, her eyes blinking as she processed his words. “What do you—but why would—“

“Oh, Christ.” He said as he sat up, bringing his hands up to her face and pulling her to him to envelope her lips in a warm and firm kiss that had her insides thundering and melting beneath his touch.

Cole hadn’t felt like this. Not one bit.

Steve released her lips with a sharp click, keeping her close and looking in her wide and now realizing pupils. “Honey, c’mon.” He urged quietly, waiting for her to say something—anything that could tell him he didn’t just fuck up years of friendship.

He released her cheeks slowly as he watched her heavy breath heaving her chest. Her cheeks were pink where he’d held her, and her eyes looked glassy and her mouth gaped, like she’d never seen anything so beautiful. “Steve?” She barely whispered, the sound of his name slipping between her teeth and lips with hardly any breath behind it.

His eyes met hers again, the usually warm brown was cold and dark in the room, moonlight shining through her windows illuminated his frame in silver. The open blinds cast shadows over her, their careful, gliding descent down her face was the only indication she was moving closer to him, to press her lips against his. He caught a gasp in his throat right as their lips connected, her warm, soft hands caressed his face like he had hers and he relished how gentle every one of her touches were against his skin.

“Oh, god.” He mumbled against her, the sounds of their breath struggling against one another and the feeling of her tongue brushing against his lips was easily pushing him farther and farther over the edge of logic. He wanted her. He’d been wanting her. He’d waited for so long for this moment, and all he could think of was what would be next.

But then he remembered himself and why he was here. His hands gently slid up into her hair, around the back of her neck, the warmth making her moan into him before he disconnected her lips from his.

“Y/n/n… I’ve always—I love you.” He nodded. She held onto his hands that held her as she nodded in agreement. “I love you too, Steve. I always have.” She leaned in again, and who was he to deny her another kiss from his lips?

After managing to keep their hands to themselves despite the lost time, the two agreed they would stop here for the night. Until they knew what was waiting for them in the next weeks.

The next morning the two found themselves intertwined in the middle of her bed, legs tangled and arms encircling each other's bodies. The slivers of exposed skin on skin stuck to each other, a feeling she would sit in until he moved first. The orange morning light streamed in on them, his deep morning sigh and stretch was evident of his waking, a small smile stretching on her face at the sound.

When he relaxed again, his arms wrapped her back up gently, stroking her shoulder under his hand. He peered down at her to see if her eyes were moving and he was delighted to see his Y/n was awake. She turned her head to him, her puffy morning eyes still squinting a bit as she smiled at him.

“Hi.” She greeted quietly, laying her cheek on his chest and letting her hair splay down his stomach. She would see the chest hair peeking out from the neckline of his shirt and couldn’t wait to find out how it felt if she ran her hand up the plain of his torso.

“Hey.” He smiled, the fingers on his other hand finding her scalp for a soothing head scratch. She sighed and smiled at his touch, her content face was one he wanted to kiss. And kiss. And kiss.

“You okay?” He asked after a moment. Her eyes fluttered open and she nodded, “Never better.”

It was decided Steve would stay through the weekend, neither of them explicitly mentioning their night as they went about their regular business, sweet and soft touches mixed in more often. When Y/n made them lunch, he’d stand behind her with his hands on her waist, his mouth planting soft kisses on her shoulder as she worked and tried not to turn into a puddle of warm mush on the floor.

When Steve offered to help her with some frames she’d been wanting hung up, she watched him from her bed as he hammered the nails into the wall, happily listening to him grumble about landlords and their policies, about how he would fill a thousand nail holes for her if it meant the pictures made her happy, and of course admiring the way his ass looked in his jeans.

She didn’t discount the way her heart fluttered more fiercely when he’d say words like ‘we’ or ‘us’, the way he’d reach over and hold her hand in the car or on the couch, or how she kept catching him staring at her with a faraway smile on his lips before looking away with a blush and chuckle.

They sat together the next night, eating take out and watching some re-run. Brandi was spending the rest of the weekend at her boyfriends house, leaving them completely alone.

The normalcy was warm, the way they leaned against one another as they ate, sometimes asking for a bite of the other's food, the way they chuckled quietly at the same things. Steve would sneak a peek at her, her full chewing mouth quirking up in a small smile before chuckling through her nose at the skit that played on TV.

The night turned darker but the two remained on the couch, her legs over his lap and his arm around her, keeping her in place. Her favorite blanket covered them as they stared at the screen, still not bringing up the true matters at hand. “I’ve—ahem,” he cleared his throat of the rasp in his voice, “I’ve had a great time this weekend, Y/n/n.” He smiled softly, his fingers now playing with the soft ends of her hair.

She smiled brightly at him, “Me too. I-I couldn’t tell you what I’d be doing if you weren’t here, Y’know?” She said quietly. Steve placed his hand back on her cheek and tried not to grin too big when she leaned into his touch like a cat.

“I’ll always be here.” He said, her eyes snapping to him as he did.

She knew he was telling the truth just by the way he looked at her. Simple words that carried a thousand pounds each. Just the one word alone, ‘always’ sent a shiver through her.

The breath left her as his eyes turned darker and hungrier. She couldn’t tell if she pulled him closer by his hand or if he pulled her to him, but it didn’t matter. Either way resulted in their mouths clashing together and her straddling his lap.

She kissed him like she was starving, licking into his mouth and tenderly sinking her teeth into his bottom lip being the only way to satiate the hunger burning in her core. Steve groaned openly as she released his lip and dove down to his freckled neck to resume her affection there. His fingers dug into her back and upper thigh, and she hoped he’d leave small dime sized bruises for her to cherish after he went back to school.

Until she got to see him again. The idea burned unpleasantly inside of her, provoking her to suck the spot just above his collarbone into her mouth, running her tongue over it soothingly before biting.

“Ah! Oh, shit—“ he exclaimed, making her jump back in alarm.

“Was that-was it too much?” She asked behind her flushed cheeks. Steve shook his head adamantly, “No! No, come back.” He breathed, pulling her back to his lips, “I love you—I’m yours, do whatever you want to me, baby.” He whispered against her mouth before taking her lips in his again. Her eyes burned with tears at the sound, along with her throbbing core he grinded her down onto his lap.

Suddenly, a gush appeared between her thighs. Nothing carnal, nothing crazy, but it made her eyes shoot open, and before his eyes could adjust from their closure, she was off his lap and in the bathroom. Steve cocked his head as he heard the door slam. He froze. What just happened?

“Uh, Y/n?” He called, abandoning his place on the couch to approach the bathroom door. Did she change her mind? Was that too much?

“I DID IT!” She cried happily.

“What?” He asked in momentary confusion. The door in front of him flew open, and she wore a bright smile and her eyes were wide. “I got my period!”

“You got it?!” His eyes popped wide open, his arms slightly raised and open in front of him for her to walk into as she nodded eagerly.

“I’ve never been so happy to bleed!” She cried and threw her arms around him. He held her tightly to him, a smile of relief flooding his face. “Oh thank god.” He whispered in relief.

Her heart sank in her chest at his words. “So, what-what does this mean?” She asked as she pulled back to look at him. He shot her a curious look. “What, your period? Means you’re not pregnant, right?” He asked with slight panic.

She shook her head, “No, no, I meant what does this mean for.. us?” She shrugged one shoulder.

“No-Nothing, honey,” his hand found her face. “Always here, remember?” He leaned closer, placing a peck on her lips. “I love you, maybe even more now that I know you aren’t gonna have someone else’s baby.” He joked.

She rolled her teary eyes out of habit at his antics. He swiped his thumb under her eye to catch the falling tear. “I must say I may have been a little excited at the thought of watching you get all.. big.. and… round..” he trailed off dreamily, his hands sliding down her shoulders and to her waist, his gaze landing on her chest and stomach as he sighed.

“Someday, though.” He nodded, speaking to himself more than her. He looked back up to her eyes and smiled at her blushing cheeks.

“Someday?” She asked, stepping forward and into his kiss as he nodded.

The next weekend, Y/n made the trip to surprise Steve, hoping to stay the weekend at his apartment close to Hawkins. She’d been vibrating with excitement as she stood in the hall, hearing footsteps pad up to the door where she had her thumb over the peephole.

“Who is it?” He asked.

“Why don’t you open the door and find out?” She said, unable to keep the smile from her voice. The locks immediately slid and clicked, one right after another. The knob jiggled before the door flew open and Steve stood shirtless with a gaping mouth and a smile that lit up his whole face.

“Y/n/n!” He said as she threw her arms around him, he buried his fingers in her hair and kept her close with his other arm wrapped around her back.

“Surprise!” She said quietly, taking in the scent of the left over cologne on his bare skin. He chuckled against the side of her head and pulled her inside, shutting the door with his foot. His hands found her cheeks and pulled her in for a thousand small kisses with words scattered in between.

“What are you—doing here?” He asked across her cheeks and nose. She held onto his wrists and giggled, “I thought it was my turn to surprise you, you know?” She cut herself off by pulling his cheeks down for a sprinkling of her own kisses. “—Missed you.” She mumbled against his lips before releasing him, her eyes wide with anxiety as a thought clicked, “I-If that’s okay?” Her lips ghosted over the skin of his collarbone, driving him wild as he felt her breath tickling him.

“Oh, honey, of course it is!” He implored before kissing her forehead, “—I missed you too.” He said with a flirty lilt to his tone as he stroked her back and found her lips back on his neck.

“And—“ she deepened her kisses at the crook of it, her tongue getting involved before she pulled back, “—wanted to tell you—“ she moved to the other side and backed him to the couch in the center of the room, “I’m off my period.” She grinned as she pulled back.

His eyes widened before he spoke, “So—so we can—“ she pushed him down to sit on the couch and nodded as she straddled him. His hands found her ass immediately and finally noticed she wore the plaid skirt he’d always dreamed of. Her tits were perfect and rounded in the black sweater and he palmed them through the cashmere.

He’d waited so long—so long— for this moment. Spending night after night imagining the way her tits looked: if they hung lower, if her nipples looked different ways or straight on, how big they would be and if there’d be any freckles for him to befriend if he ever had the pleasure and blessing of seeing them. Steve held no preference, as long as he could put his hands and mouth on them, he didn’t care one bit.

But tonight would be the night those thoughts and questions would be put to rest. Tonight the veil would be lifted and he would see her in all her glory. “Oh my god...” is all he could mutter as she picked up the hem at her waist and peeled the sweater off.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

A couple months later, Steve walked the short distance from his girlfriend’s apartment to the building of her last lecture of the day. It was another Friday where Steve was to come to her, except this time he wanted to surprise her again.

He’d been coming to her apartment every other Friday at 7 pm for their weekends to begin, so this week he thought he’d start things earlier by picking her up from class and walking her home. He looked at his watch, the class due to be dismissed any moment now.

He made the leisurely trip to a large tree in the middle of the campus yard, not fifty yards from the entrance. He leaned against the tree and tried not to smile at the thought of her face when she would spot him. Then he thought back to how he’d found the cafe she was always praising, and hoped to buy her a cup on the way home.

Y/n was approaching the dark doors at the front of the school when she heard her name called from behind her. “Wait up!” Cole said loudly from the end of the hall as he jogged to her. She reached the doors and shoved them open, leaning on the door for him to catch up.

“What’s up?” She asked blandly as he approached, his hand holding the door open for her as she continued her walk. The yard was full of students at this point, making Steve’s presence against the tree unknown.

“I was uh, just wondering why I haven’t seen you around the dorms lately.” He shrugged, “And was hoping I could borrow your notes on last week's lecture—I was sick.”

She nodded as they reached the last steps and opened her binder to carefully remove the three pages he requested. “I went to Trisha’s party a couple weeks ago hoping to see you there.” He mentioned.

She didn’t bother to look up, didn’t notice Steve approaching from behind his great-value-wannabe. But he couldn’t help but slow down once he was in hearing distance to see how the rest unfolded.

“Yeah, well, I’ve been busy.“

“—thought we had fun…” Cole shrugged discouraged, looking at the ground between them.

“I did have fun…” She said with an unsure lilt in her voice. “It’s just, well, I’ve been spending time with my boyf—Steve!” She dropped the conversation and a smile broke out on her face at the sight of her boyfriend against the returning green of the courtyard. He grinned as he approached, noting how she stepped around Cole and ran into his arms, binder, bag, and all.

She looked up at Steve and pressed a quick kiss to his mouth, “I missed you! What are you doing here?” She gushed.

“Well, I was getting too predictable! And the weather was too nice to let my girl walk home by herself.” He smiled down at her, stroking her cheek delicately as he answered.

She blushed and chuckled in response, “You are the sweetest, I’m so glad you’re here!”

Steve blushed and looked back up at the poor guy getting let down by his sweet girlfriend when he noticed the striking resemblance between them. The boy was handsome, but his square features didn’t quite fit together like Steve’s did. Though, the hair—the hair was on point. They both carded a hand through their perfectly tousled locks as they eyed each other.

“Oh! Cole, this is my boyfriend, Steve.” She smiled as Steve took the binder from her arms and slung her bag over his shoulder. He sent the boy a friendly nod though his eyes were hard and trained on him. Cole sent a nervous nod back, “Nice to meet you man. Anyway, thanks for the notes.” Cole held them up in gratitude before walking away briskly.

“I need them back before the quiz next week!” She called after him, Cole turning and throwing a thumbs up.

“Or else I’m gonna have to kick your—“

“He’s kidding! He’s kidding.” She said with a hand clasped over his giggling mouth as he fought against her, “No I’m not!” He called once he freed himself from her hand, laughing harder the faster the boy ran.

Once Cole was out of sight, the two studied each other. “What was that?” She asked with a chuckle as they began to walk.

Steve shrugged. “I may not have gotten into university but it doesn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out that was the guy you slept with.” He snorted and threw an arm around her as she blanched and gaped. He laughed again at her fluster and pulled her closer to plant a kiss on her head. “C’mon I thought it was cute!”

She rolled her eyes and unwrapped his arm from around her shoulders to pull him along with a groan.

“So tell me… do you have a type or is your type just me?” He asked smugly, his heart melting as she covered her face in embarrassment—her blush stroking his ego much more than it should’ve, and then offered to buy her a cup of hot chocolate.

-

-

Taglist babies 🤍

@loving-and-dreaming @newshade @marvel-sw-lover

[iveseenstrangerthings]

must be love - a Steve Harrington imagine

summary: just a shorter imagine about a reader who works at a diner and Steve comes in with the rest of the friendship group (which you’re also part of). There’s a mutual pining between Steve and reader and eventually Steve decides to do something about it, just a lil fluffy imagine which got me going

warnings: brief descriptions of food and eating

word count: 2.5k

notes: shout out to one of my fave SNL skits of Debbie Downer thx for playing a small part in this imagine. if anyone has any ideas for an imagine plsss request i’d be happy to do some requests !! have a great day :) master list here

                                                   ✦ ✦ ✦ ✦

“Have a great night, guys!” You call as the most miserable family you’ve ever served in your entire time of being at the diner slumps out the door. A small laugh escapes your lips, almost in disbelief at what you’ve just put up with, as you start to clear their plates. Clinks of metal cutlery scraping fired ceramic plates fill your ears as you gather everything in an impressive stack. Guiltily, you take the gracious tip they’ve left you and you suddenly feel awful for whining to yourself about how unpleasant they’d been. 

Behind the till, you place their cash tip into the tip jar and then take the plates to the back to be washed. The heat of the kitchen still overwhelms you as you place the stack of dirty dishes into the hot sink full of water. “Busy out there, yet?” Deborah, the main pot washer calls out from the break room, her evening drawing out slowly in front of her at the slow stream of customers. 

“Not quite yet, still early though, Debs!” You call back cheerily, behind her back you all call her Debbie Downer, no matter what you say Deborah will reply with something depressing that ultimately kills the mood of the conversation.

Last month, when you told her you’d got a new cat, she had replied, “Feline AIDS is the biggest killer of domestic cats. Hope you got it checked!” 

Pushing back through the swing doors, you see a few more groups had been shown to tables and you were ready to go over to welcome them in. One group you see, is your friends. 

An unsettled feeling stews inside you, you love that they come here to see you, but you hate how it makes you feel pressured. Dustin loves the shakes, Mike and El the burgers, and Steve loves to come just to see you. Not that you know that. You’re partial to a spill of a drink, or a burger to the floor as it slips off the plates as you try to juggle too many, and you do not want Steve to see anything like that. You’ll just have to try not to show off your plate stacking skills this evening. 

Whipping your pad out from the front of your grease-stained apron, you walk to their table and paint a smile on your face, beaming from ear to ear. “Fancy seeing you here.” You approach the table and stand next to Steve, who looks up at you with a small smile painted across his rose-tinted lips. 

“Do you even need your little pad, surely you know my order by now.” Dustin is quick to comment on his food, he must be starving. He didn’t mean it in an asshole way, you’re close enough with each other that you rarely take offence to anything now.  

You guffaw at his request and scribble down his order. Peeking over the top of your pad to see Steve slightly shaking his head and raising his eyebrows at him. “Max?” Your attention goes to Max now, awaiting her order.

“Just a chocolate shake, please.” She offers, sheepishly pushing the menu back towards you. You don’t push her on an order for food, as you know any of the other waitresses would, you just nod and jot down the code for a shake. She’s still recovering from Vecna, and you understand her lack of appetite, which she is grateful for. 

After finally scribbling down the group’s order in your illegible scrawl, which is only decipherable by the chefs, you turn to Steve who’s perched on the end of the booth. “And for you, Steve?” Your pen is ready in between your fingers, and you give him a patient smile. 

He quickly skims the menu, even though he knew what he wanted the minute he walked in. He relays his order to you before gathering up all the menus, making your job easier and quicker. “Thanks.” You take them from his hands and his cheeks flush with colour. He’s aware of the intense rush of heat to his face, as is everyone else at the table. Your heart skips and beats intensely in your chest as you relish in the sight of his flushed cheeks. You know you caused his blush, and it gives you a slight spring in your step as you return to the host stand with their menus, knowing you have the power to make Steve Harrington tint with crimson. 

Whilst his ears are trained into the conversation happening around him, he lets his eyes divert to your whereabouts. He watches intently as you balance the plates with skill before setting them all down on a nearby table, talking to your customers with expressive hands and giving them an effervescent smile before turning and going to attend to another table. He sees how your tongue slips out of your mouth, ever so slightly, in concentration as you place glacier cherries onto the top of a sundae before carrying it to an over-excited child who claps with your arrival. Your smile at the young boy’s happiness and delightful manners stays on your face as you make your way back over to the serving hatch, the bell ringing out continuously with the Friday night rush of families, friends and couples. 

“Dude.” Dustin starts, leaning in closer to Steve as he breaks away from the rest of the conversation. Steve leans in too. “Why don’t you just ask her out already?” The prospect of doing such a thing is enough to bring sweat to the palms of his hands. Noticeably so that he has to rub his palms over his jeans to get the wetness off. His mouth feels dry, so he runs his tongue over the roof of his mouth and swallows what little saliva he has down his throat. “It’s so painfully obvious.” 

“What is?” He quickly retorts, turning his face too fast so it’s left lingering extremely close to Dustin’s. He pulls back slightly and let’s Dustin observe how you make him feel. The slight tinge of pink has returned to his cheeks, and he hasn’t stopped rubbing his palms over his jeans. Dustin just laughs slightly and gives his head a shake before giving Steve an insignificant nod, indicating your return with an armful of their food. 

“Alrighty.” You say as you settle their food down on the table, sliding the plates in the direction of whoever ordered what. The table digs into your stomach slightly as you stretch across to push El’s plate to her in the far corner of the booth, meaning you slightly lean across Steve. “‘Scuse me.” You gently breathe as you pull back, the smell of your perfume lingering after you push back from the table. He quickly inhales, wipes the corner of his mouth with his thumb and then grabs the cutlery. “Max just let me grab your milkshake, I’ll be right back.” You dust your hands off on your apron as you make your way back to the hatch, collecting Max’s milkshake before ambling back over to their table. “There you go, sweetie.” You turn her shake towards her and her eyes light up, looking at Lucas with wide eyes in admiration at her humongous milkshake. You smile at the pair; glad Max has someone as sweet and caring as Lucas. “Okay, think that’s everything.” Your eyes skim everyone’s plates to ensure you haven’t missed anything. “Can I get you guys anything else? Anymore sauces?” 

Everyone replies with a cacophony of “No” and “Thank you” and you nod at them all, the boys already starting to shovel their food into their mouths as if they haven’t eaten for days. Max seems settled and Steve thanks you again before turning to his plate to eat. 

The next half an hour passes in a blur of sundaes, hamburgers, spilt milkshakes, and grumbles from Deborah as you take in another stack of greased up, ketchup smeared plates. As you stand at the host station placing clean cutlery neatly into white napkins, Steve wanders over to you as he opens his wallet in front of him. You place your hands down on the counter, keeping the napkin well wrapped up in your hands. “Hey!” You beam at him as he approaches. “Was everything okay with the meal?” You finally place the neatened cutlery and napkins into their box and return your full attention to Steve. 

“Was great. Five-star service, too.” The corner of his mouth hooks up into a smile and you reciprocate it broadly. “But I was wondering if I could pay now?”

You nod, taking their order from the small pile of tabs that you keep by the cash register. “Sure, you just wanna pay for yours?” You start keying in the price for Steve’s meal, but he cuts you off.

“No no, I’ll get everyone’s.” His offer is laced with the kindness he exudes, like warmth coming from a mug of coffee on a chilly day. 

Your head tilts to one side and your eyebrows lift slightly, “Steve, that’s awful kind of you but are you sure?” 

He nods, pulling out some cash he’s sure will cover it as he patiently lets you tot up the total for the meals on the register. “I’m totally sure.” He seems nervous, you notice from the corner of your eye his weight keeps shifting from one foot to the other. A small smirk forms on your lips, then quickly dissipates as you get ready to read the total out. 

He hands the cash over without question and tells you to keep the change for the tip jar. “Thank you so much.” You hold the cash in your hands gratefully as you look back at him. He’s still stood behind the host stand, his eyes travelling nervously around you. As you drop the cash into the jar, he leans onto the station with his elbows.

“I was wondering if you wanted to catch a movie? After you finish up?” The words tumble out of him quickly, but his question is laced with reluctance, like he’s already prepared himself for you to say no.

You study his features, the soft-hearted nature of him shines through. Him paying for all the kids’ meals and still asking you out afterwards, you feel on top of the world that he’s asked you. You think of how sublime it would be, spending the evening with Steve after work, but you don’t finish up until close tonight and you fear that would be too late for him, making him waste the night waiting for you. Although it would feel anything but a waste to Steve. A feeling of defeat washes over you as you worry this could be the only time Steve asks you to do something, and you fear he will think that you’re making an excuse. “I’m here till close tonight.” The words fall regretfully from your mouth, and you see his features soften with disappointment.

He nods quickly, pursing his lips as he pushes back from the counter, giving it a tap as he readjusts his posture, standing tall. “Oh, yeah. Totally. No that’s fine.” 

“But I could come over, when I’m done? I know it would be late, but I could bring us something to eat, and we could just, I dunno, chill?” 

Inside his chest, his heart soars around like someone has ignited him and soon the sweaty palms return. He came over here expecting you to say no, but he figured it was worth a shot. He did not expect, however, for you to then suggest another idea. His worries and anxieties about asking you now seem so farcical when all along you had wanted the same. 

He’s almost taken aback and has to bring himself back to the reality of being here in the diner, with you. “No, no it wouldn’t be too late. That’d be great.” He taps the counter again, the pair of you just looking over at one another, waiting for someone to speak. The pair of you never run out of things to say, never find it awkward to make conversation, never shut up really. But now, you both stand enthralled at the idea of spending some time together, just the two of you. 

“I’ll pick you up?” He poses the question to you in a gesture of what seems like good will, but it’s really just a way to get to spend more time with you. 

A torrent of emotion as intense as a winding river of rapids course through your veins and rise the temperature of your body, causing your skin to prickle intensely like tiny bolts of electricity hitting your skin. The flow of your emotional river ebbs, the source of the river stemmed as an anxious thought enters your stream of consciousness. You want Steve to see you at your best, not sweaty and smelling of cooking after a five-hour shift. “I will stink of grease.” You admit to him awkwardly. The perfume bottle you keep in your bag is a God send and you hope it will help to mask at least some of the smell.

He puffs air out between his lips and a smile softens across his face. “I really couldn’t care less.” He pushes his hands back from the counter where they’d been resting lazily, his muscles contracting underneath the sleeves of his t-shirt and you eye it quickly. The way the shape contorts and flexes under his skin as he pushes himself up from the counter again makes your eyes widen and your stomach throb. “Pick you up around ten, is that when you finish?” 

“Yes! That sounds great, thank you!” You radiate, your words landing like a verbal high five. 

He turns away, wordlessly, and gathers the kids up to leave. You click a few buttons on the register before finalising the receipt. They all wave and shout goodbyes as they make their way out of the diner, leaving as you turn to see your favourite group of regulars sat waiting for you to go over and take their order.

Outside, the wind turns to a chill and the clouds blow clear, leaving the sky black and bright above them. “So...” Dustin starts, elbowing Steve as they make their way to the car. The rest of the kids making their way to their buses home. “Did it work?”

Steve lifts his chin and laughs, “Quit making it sound like I’ve been doing some sort of experiment.” 

Dustin just rolls his eyes and waits, expectantly. 

“Yeah, it did ‘work’.” His fingers go up into air quotations before twisting the key to start the car with a low growl. “I’m seeing her after work.”

“TONIGHT?!” Dustin jeers in a high-pitched voice that makes his voice box squeal in delight. “Dude, how many times have I told you. She feels the same.”

“You think?” Steve quizzes, passing the conversation back to Dustin. 

“Hell yeah.” Dustin smirks, showing Steve all his ‘pearls’ as Dustin likes to say. “Offering to see you after a shift at the diner?” He tilts his head and brings his eyes down playfully. “Must be love.” His voice exudes sickly sweet confidence and Steve backs out the car park, turning up his radio and rolling the windows down, despite the chill. He drives back happily and hasn’t once tried to deny Dustin’s final remark. 

[harrywavycurly]

May we see Eddie text Steve when he finds out Steve got his bestie pregnant 😂

Hiii babes!! I hope you enjoy this because idk why it just made me laugh 💖

-this is like part 2 to this post right here✨

*Eddie needs Steve to take Dustin to the arcade but Steve has plans*

[nivisdreaming]

Unsupervised Aftercare

Summary: After a rough night, your Stevie always gives you the best aftercare, consisting of all the pampering your little princess heart could ever want. Or he usual does, except for that one time he falls asleep, and your attempts to care for yourself don’t quite go according to plan.

WC: ~600

Tags: Tooth-rotting Fluff, hurt/comfort, suggestive, heavily implied k!nk/DDLG/subspace, the excessive use of petnames, fem!reader (body not described, feminine petnames used)

Steve jolted awake, eyes flying open as he tries to locate the cause of the loud thump. His hands fly to your side of the bed only to find empty space, blankets still warm and ruffled. He pouted, “Honey? Was that you?” When all he received in response was a pitiful whine, he was quick to jump up from the bed, nearly tripping over your splayed out figure just a few feet from the bed.

“Baby? What are you doing down there? Are you hurt?” He kneeled down by your side, pulling your naked form into his arms. “Wait. Where are your pajamas, baby? You must be freezing!” He reaches up to caress your cheek, giving you a puzzled and pitying look.

You shook your head lightly and nuzzled forward to burrow your face in his bare chest. “You fell ‘sleep Stevie, forgot give’m bath n cuddles.” You lifted your shaky arms to wrap around his torso, clinging to him as if you are afraid he will disappear. “Tried go find m’ juice and stuffie but all shaky still, was no one t’ carry me ‘round like a princess,” you mumbled.

Steve felt the tension in his shoulder drop at the revelation you were not hurt, but his heart clench as guilt wracked through him. He could recognize your tone anywhere, even if the memories of your rough ‘play’ just before he knocked out next to you hadn’t come filtering back to him. You were obviously still very subby, and he couldn’t believe he had made the mistake of leaving you alone like this, even if accidental.

“Oh baby, my poor baby, I’m so sorry.” He tugs you closer to him and fully into his arms so he can haul you both off of the floor and back into the bed. “I didn’t mean to fall asleep love, you should’ve woken me, especially before you went trying to walk around.” He lays you back against the pillows and covers you with the comforter to quell the chills that wrack your naked form. “Let me make it up to you, hm? Do you still want a bath, or should we skip it and go straight to story-time?”

You are wrapped up snug under the blankets. The thought of being removed from your cocoon is quite distressing, even if it means vanilla bubbles and water just as warm as the bed you lay in. You opt to burrow deeper into your comfort. “‘M sleepy now, can you hold me please Stevie?” You attempt to shuffle closer to him from where you are bundled.

Steve chuckles as he pats your head. He lays down next to you and slides under the comforter as well. You feel one arm snake around you to keep you snuggly attached to him at the waist, while the other sneaks up to proudly display a small plush bunny in front of your eyes. “Found your stuffie, princess. Do you want him to cuddle with us too?” Steve leans the toy down to nuzzle your nose, which you happily return before nodding that you want the soft creature with you as well. Steve settles it in between you two so it’s easily within reach, and then uses his now free hand to tilt your face towards his until he can give you a soft peck on the lips. With a content sound you melt into him, tension and discomfort long overshadowed by the warmth and love filling your body from head to toe. It’s not long before your heartbeats match up to one another, and you’re drifting off to sleep, together this time.

[thyme-in-a-bubble]

broken rib stitch - send me a sfw request (if you need some inspo, here are some prompts)

luna lovegood!reader x steve harrington friends to lovers

A/N: harmonia, do you wanna go get ice cream after this? tick off the yes or no box, please and thank you, mwah, mwah

∼ gentle reminder that feedback, but especially reblogs are the way you support writers on here ∽

masterlist | join my taglist | join my 3k celebration!

“Aw,” you pursed out your bottom lip, “I love you too.”

Steve’s eyebrows shot up, “really?” 

“Stevie, you’re my best friend,” you rolled your eyes, breathing out a light chuckle, “of course I love you.”

“Oh, I-, um…” he winced, screwing his face up as if he had just sucked on a sour lemon, “I didn’t really mean it like that…”

“Okay, you can’t just take it back,” you huffed, suddenly furrowing your brows at him.

“I’m not taking it back, I’m clarifying,” Steve spoke, desperate for you to understand, “I care about you as more than just my friend-”

“Best friend,” you couldn’t help but correct him.

“Yes, my best friend,” he puffed out a light chuckle at your insistent amendment, then placed his hand atop of yours and spoke, “sweetheart, I love you, I’m in love with you.”

“You-…” blinking back at him, unsure if this was just a joke, “I’m sorry, what?”

“I love you,” he repeated, sucking in a tense breath. 

“Wait, is this like when you’re 6 years old and get married on the playground? Is that what this is?” 

Flashing you a warm smile, Steve assured you, “I promise you it’s very much not.”

“Oh…” you breathed out slowly, your gaze faltering a moment as you realized, “okay.”

“Okay?” he desperately tilted his head to catch your eye, unable to gauge your answer through your neutral tone.

“Okay,” you offered a casual shrug as you nodded lightly. 

“O-oh,” a relieved chuckle bubbled out of his growing grin, “okay.”

Glancing down as his fingers weaved through yours, you asked softly, “…so what now?”

“Now I would really like to kiss you.”

“You wanna kiss me?” you blinked up at him with wide eyes, genuinely surprised by his wish. 

“Well, yeah,” his free hand fluttered up towards your hair, tugging a few strands behind your ear, “why else would you think I’d tell you all of that?”

“Well, I don’t know!”

Keeping his fingers tangled in your soft hair, he cocked his brow, “did you really think I wouldn’t wanna kiss you?”

“I never knew you wanted to kiss me before.”

“Y/n, I’ve wanted to kiss you pretty much since the moment I met you.”

“And you didn’t tell me?” you shrieked, completely appalled.

“Well, I told you now!”

© 2023 thyme-in-a-bubble 

[mara-and-its-the-same]

There is nothing like staying at home, for real comfort 🌷- pick a character or a few and come up with a prompt and I’ll write a fluff blurb <3

omg giving steve a massage when he has knots in his back from work :((

I think we've discovered I don't know how to write a blurb; also that i’m living vicariously through R with how much they kiss and hold each other….i’m touch starved, gn!reader Cw: One mention of the stomach bug, suggestive language, allusions to spice cus I wrote this in a starbucks with my mom sitting across from me and YOLO, like, the fuck do you expect with a request like this (and also because he's a who're....Accidental prude!reader because that's how I felt while writing it. And like half of it deleted two separate times so you guys better like it. Not proofread <3

Today was rough, it was real rough. Robin was out sick and with no one else to cover, Steve worked both shifts and with the extra hours he'd been picking up recently, it's been a tough week. Even Keith took it easy on him and let him go home early. "And you're getting time and a half for tonight. Just– uh take it easy, yeah?" The pleasantries obviously didn't come easy, but Steve appreciated the slack he was cutting him, and the extra pay, especially the extra pay.

"Yeah. You take care, Keith."

On top of all that, they were reflooring the store, the last few nights were spent moving shelves full of tapes across the store. Why they couldn't take them out, move the shelves, then put them back, he had no clue. But who was he to argue.

And on top of that, his back was acting up from that time he landed flat on it one ruthless basketball game.

All he wanted was to get home, to you. And maybe a bath, if he could stay awake that long.

He never felt the same relief he did when he saw your car in the parking lot, somehow getting the irrational idea that for whatever reason, you wouldn't be there when he got back.

The flight up the stairs to your shared apartment was a feat. He was dragging his feet by the time he got to the door. You didn't even give him the chance to open the door since you flipped the stopper in the second you saw his car pull in. Just to give him one less thing to do. He kicked it open and found you finishing up putting the leftovers away.

You looked up with a smile that calmed his heart as soon as his keys jingled in the bowl, that you most certainly did not steal from his mother, next to the door. You said hello but forgot to make the sound come out, like you often did when you got too used to the quiet. "I missed you today. You were gone before I even woke up."

"Blame Robin, she's the one that called out." He hung his coat up then came to hold you. His arms around your shoulders while your hands slid under his shirt and up his back.

"So rude of her. Had to spend all day without you."

"I mean, she was throwing up her guts, but yeah, so rude of her."

"How was it?" you asked and he held you a little tighter, rubbing your shoulder and pressing a kiss to your crown. Though he did lead with his nose. The smell of your conditioner bringing him back to himself a little more.

"How was what?"

You pulled your head from his chest at the strange sensation of his voice on the top of your head. Only enough so you could look at him fully. "Work? Your day?"

"Hmm. It was work. It was alright."

You hummed like a question.

"It was hard. It was horrible. Apparently all the assholes who like to use cashiers as emotional punching bags come out on Fridays, which is the same day we just reset all the shelves.”

“Your back still hurts?” A kiss to his chest and the heel of your palm up and down his spine.

“Mhm, any more questions?” Not in an irritated way, just wanting to know what he’s in for.

You nodded and continued with your cheek pressed to his chest, “Did you eat? And are you still hungry?”

“I got something on my break, thank you though.” He kissed the top of your head again.

“Mhm, you want a bath?”

“With you?”

You snorted and pressed your forehead into his sternum, “No, with the bubbles and the salts you like. The ones that help your back.”

He drew you out of hiding with a finger hooked under your chin, a kiss to your nose. “I’d love one.”

"Go lay down, I'll get it ready."

"I'll fall asleep."

"Then don't." You didn't see the what? face he made since you were already halfway to the surprisingly nice full-bath. He swears that one room alone is half the rent, you swear it's worth it. He'll never say it out loud but after the week he's had, you know he agrees. "And stop staring," he forgets the eyes in the back of your head, or maybe he just forgets how well you know him by now.

"Hate to see you leave, love to watch you go." You said at the same time he did. "Ah, so you've heard that one before?" He asked as you came back out for the lighter, he caught you by the waist before you could reach the aptly named 'everything drawer'.

"Mm, I'm quite familiar."

"Really?"

"Mhm. Now, can you go get yourself out of this stupid vest and into the bath? It's gonna overflow by the time I finish getting everything together."

"You can't do it for me?" You rolled your eyes and pushed him towards the bedroom and yourself to the drawers.

"Insatiable."

"What do you expect when you're looking like that?"

You looked down at your sweatpants and old P.E shirt on your way back to the bathroom. Yeah, ok, maybe you'd grown a little since freshman year but nothing that tight. "I rephrase, delusional."

"Then I have one hell of an imagination." You looked up from the candle you were lighting to give him another tease but the sight of his back through the mirror was enough to shut you up. All you could manage was something close to a very pathetic whine, close! But not quite, an important distinction. Either way, you're grateful he couldn't hear over the running water. Once the bubbles were practically overflowing you shut off the faucet and swirled the salts around again for good measure.

"Is it ready?" Steve poked his head in, his voice betraying his exhaustion, but he was careful to keep it from annoyance.

"Mhm." You'd like to think the heat of your face was from the hot water, but you both knew that was a lie. You cleared your throat anyway. "Perfect temperature."

And of course he had to smirk at the way you tried so very hard at keeping your eyes on his face. "Perfect, thank you baby." He tried to catch you by the waist for a kiss of gratitude but you slipped past him and his devastatingly gorgeous and despicably tempting um heh collar bones, yeah, collar bones.

"Just leaving me here?" You scurried back into the kitchen and you could hear he left the door open by the sound of the water sloshing against him as he sank down into it.

"Yell when it gets cold!"

And not even 10 seconds later, "Sweetheart?!"

"Yeah?"

"It's a little chilly. You should come in and warm me up." You looked inside and found him with his head tossed back and his eyes closed. One knee sticking out from the foam and his arms steaming from where they rested on the sides of the tub. His shoulders relaxed already, but still too tense for your taste. He looked up at you once he heard the door squeak. "Honey, I'm freezin in here."

"You're neck is read with how hot it is, but I commend your efforts, love."

He groaned dramatically, "Don't pretend with me."

"What?" You said through a laugh.

"If you really loved me, you'd get in this bath."

"Compromise?" You didn't wait for him to nod, though he did anyway. "I'll stay in here with you, and then when you get out I'll give you a massage. Hmm?"

"God, you love me too much."

"Impossible." You were about to leave to grab your book but he called you back.

"Wait! Hold my hand?"

"Of course."

You spent the rest of his bath with your head on his arm while you read and he rested. "Is it not freezing by now?"

"S'alright," he hardly mumbled.

You slid your hand into the now almost chill water. "Frigid, honey. Here," you stood and held up the biggest, fluffiest towel you owned. He let you throw it over his shoulders and wrap him up tight like a baby; then push him off towards the bed where he face planted into the comforter. "You gotta work with me here, baby. Lemme see your back."

He grunted and grumbled but still managed to pull it down to his waist. "Thank you, my love."

"Thank you for this, mmmmph," your thumbs worked into that tight spot that'd been slowly getting worse the longer he let it go, "and the bath, oooohhh."

He stopped being self conscious about his noises after the third massage you gave him, the heavenly sensation building with every pass of your thumbs over that one spot, eventually he let out the loudest, longest, most pent up moan. He was mortified. So while he was pacing your old apartment's bathroom, you were on the phone fielding calls from nosey neighbors with "Thank you for your concern, yes, yes Thank you mrs. Harris, mhm, yep. Just a stubbed toe. Yes oh absolutely, I’ll keep it in mind. So great to know I have such caring neighbors, yep buh-bye now”

You worked your way down from his shoulders where the most tension was, to his hips where you knew it hurt the most. A whole week and a half of hearing the cracking and groans every time he stood. Also all the horror stories of high school sports injuries, Russian guard injuries, inter-dimensional monster injuries….lots of injuries. Some worse than others (some just from being dumb with the kids and Eddie…Max can be very persuasive, even if it’s just by a triple dog dare).

By the time you worked your way down to kneading the muscles about his waist he. was. out. “Hmmmmff, god, you’re perfect.” “Fuck, I love you.”

“Ok, so you’re never allowed to get a massage.”

“Hmm?” He couldn’t even pretend, that was the most pathetic sound he’d made all day.

“You’re gonna start babbling to the massage therapist telling them to just marry you already or something, you’ll scare them away.”

“Mph, don’t care. Only want yours. You’re too good, oohhh, too good to me, you angel.” Everything he said was some sort of groan, lost in the feelings of being so tired and so relaxed and so so taken care of.

You got to the base of his spine and he was making the softest, sweetest little sounds. After gracing every inch of his skin, you leaned forward and kissed his shoulder. His eyes still closed and your hand in his hair, you moved up his neck to the spot just under his ear. "Stevie?"......"Honey?"......"Are you awake?"

He hummed something close to No in response.

"You wanna sleep?"

“Hmm”

Tomorrow then

“I love you.”

“‘uv you.”

Tags:@new-romqntics @sw34terw34ther @beezywriting @haydipoof @avipoof @steveharringtonlovesme @manyfandomsfanvergent @loving-and-dreaming@esperisdrunkinwonderlandwonderland @puppy-coded @babyrunsforfanfic @sp1rit-realm @nyxxxxxxxx @innerloverpainter @munsonsreputation@twl1ghtdollz@honeymunson@steveharringtonsleftshoe

(because I love you, and since I can't pull my usual schtick of giving you butter, my fics will have to suffice)

[lovelyatomicpeace]

I would like to remind those interested that applications are open so... on with the proposals!😂

[honeysuckleharringtons]

send me Sports Player!Steve requests, i wanna write some blurbs :')

you can find sports-related prompts both here and here if you want!!!!

gonna tag some of my steve readers if anyone wants to join!!

@dungeons-are-too-cold @ducky-died-inside @awkotaco24 @liberhoe @princesseddie @aftermidnightwriting @manuosorioh @esoltis280 @hereiamhereigo @mcueveryday

[headkiss]

not just on christmas

pairing: steve harrington x fem!reader

summary: steve’s parents are coming home for the holidays and he’s in need of a fake date. who better than you, his best friend?

word count: 8.2k

warnings: steve’s parents (derogatory), negative comments about his job, fake dating, friends to lovers, christmas themes, fluff, first kiss!

a/n: i had lots of fun with this one and i hope u guys like it!!! merry christmas and happy holidays i hope they treat u all well <33 consider this my gift to you :D

༄

The phone ringing forces Steve out of bed. Floors cool on his feet, the air a chill on his bare chest, he rubs his eyes lazily and picks it up.

“Hello?” He clears his throat to get rid of the sleep in his voice.

“Steve, why do you sound tired, it’s nearly noon!”

It’s no surprise that the first words aren’t asking him how he is. He’s shocked she cared enough to pick up on the tone of his voice at all. “Hi, mom.”

He doesn’t even know where she’s calling from, doesn’t know what business trip they're on. He can’t remember the last time he got a phone call that wasn’t you, or Robin, or Dustin, or anyone else other than his parents.

Steve’s not even excited to be hearing from them, because it’s a reminder that they’re not around, that they haven’t forgotten about him, they just don’t care.

He wishes you were the one that called.

“Listen, sweetie, your dad and I are coming home for Christmas this year, isn’t that great?”

He deflates, “yeah. Super.”

“There’s a business event he wants to take you to. And we’ll find you a date,” there’s the catch. There’s always a catch. “You can make some connections, maybe get out of your job at that video store soon.”

The thing is, he actually likes working at Family Video, but he knows that doesn’t matter. Then there’s the topic of the girlfriend, or lack thereof. His parents are always nagging him about when he’ll settle down, grow roots, or something.

Maybe that’s why he says, “I can get my own date. I have a girlfriend.”

“Oh! That’s fantastic! She’ll have dinner with us, won’t she? What’s her name?”

Like an idiot, he says your name. The first one that came to his mind.

You’re his best friend, and it’s easy to let his thoughts drift to you. The problem is, he has no idea how he’s going to explain this to you, how he can ask you to fake date him just to satisfy his parents for once.

If he wasn’t still on the phone, Steve would be groaning into a pillow right now.

“Okay, sweetie, your dad has a brunch we have to get to. We’ll see you soon!”

“Bye, mom. See you.”

He hangs up and sighs in relief. That feeling is quick to fade when he remembers that he had just named you his girlfriend in the midst of his phone call. He drops his face into his hands, runs them through his hair, and tries to figure out how the hell to bring up the subject with you.

To go along with that, he has to worry about his parents coming home. Though, can they really call it ‘home’ when they’ve been gone for so long? When they’ll leave again after a few days, a week at most?

Most people would be happy, excited, about their parents being around for the holidays. Steve’s not. He’d rather spend it how he has since the two of you became friends. Breakfast at your house with your family—who have become family for Steve, too—presents opened with scented candles burning and Christmas albums spun on the record player.

You went out of your way to include him, and he’s never felt so welcome in his life as he does when he’s with you.

At least, if you agree, you’ll be with him this year, too.

-

It’s the next day when Steve decides to bring it up. You’re at his house for movie night, which has become a weekly ritual for the two of you. He’s been trying to figure out what exactly to say since he hung up the damn phone. He’s given up and instead hopes it’ll come to him in the moment.

Today, Steve’s quiet, which is unlike him. You know something’s on his mind and you try to avoid asking him about it, trying to let him talk about it on his own time. It’s about halfway through the movie that you change your mind.

He didn’t complain when you showed up with your cheesy Christmas movie choice, he didn’t light-heartedly tease you about your outfit of choice (some festive patterned pajama pants and a sweater that’s so worn there are holes in the neckline), and the most unusual, he didn’t make a single joke or comment as the movie played.

He’s really, really quiet.

You pick up the remote and pause it, “what’s going on with you, Steve?”

He looks at you, catches your eye and sees nothing but genuine concern. Sometimes he hates the way you know him so well. He can never hide anything from you.

“What? Nothing.”

You blink at him, “come on.”

“Fine, okay. Just, don’t say anything until I’m done, please.”

“Okay,” you pretend to zip your mouth shut, ready to listen.

“My mom called yesterday and told me they’re coming home for Christmas, and that there’s this business thing they want me to go to, and that I need a date for it,” he scrubs a hand down his face, trying to hide his embarrassment. “And you know how they’re always on my ass about me being single and stuff so I kind of told her I already had a girlfriend, and maybe I told her that girlfriend is you.”

What?

There’s a lot to process there. Mostly the fact that out of all of the names he could have chosen, he said yours. You wait for him to explain some more, but he’s looking at you like he’s waiting for a reply, so, your mouth is now unzipped.

“So, what exactly does that mean?”

He mutters a curse under his breath. “Um, so, I need you to pretend to be my actual girlfriend while they’re here.”

His use of the word ‘need’ is telling. Steve’s not one to ask for help, not even when he needs it the most but here he is, nervous and a little pink-cheeked, asking for your help.

You let the thought sit in your head for a bit. It’s not hard for you to want to agree. Steve’s your best friend, and you’d do pretty much anything for him. Though, that might also have to do with the fact that you’ve been in love with him for years.

You know more about his relationship with his parents then most do, so if you can make their visit more bearable for him in any way, why wouldn’t you?

“Okay,” you say.

“Okay? Like, you’ll do it?”

“Yeah, sure. I’m happy to help.”

That was a lot easier than Steve thought it’d be. You barely even questioned him before agreeing, and that’s not lost on him.

“Thank you so much, seriously,” he throws his arm over your shoulders, squeezes you to him in a side hug. “It’s only a few days, then we can go back to normal.”

“Easy peasy,” you say, reaching for the remote and hitting play.

Aside from your wanting to help him, to be there for him like you know he would for you, you’re also curious to see what it’s like to be with Steve that way, even if it’s fake. It’s hopeless, the way you love him, like the moon orbiting the earth around and around. Constant.

Sure, those feelings will probably only swell because of the fake relationship, but you’ve been housing them for long enough anyway.

What could go wrong?

-

“Are you sure this is a good idea?” Robin says from the other side of a clothing rack, sifting through the pieces.

She’s the first, and only, person you told about the fake dating thing. Naturally, she decided she’d help you shop for a dress to wear to this business thing and talk about it at the same time.

The mall is decorated, garlands and lights strung, a big Christmas tree lit up in the middle of it all.

“It’s only a couple of days. It’ll be fine.”

“I’m talking about you being in love with him,” she deadpans.

“Robin, not so loud.”

“I just don’t want you to get hurt.”

You know she’s being honest, and though the thought has been at the back of your mind, a whisper, you’d like to believe that you can handle a fake relationship without ruining things because of your big, big feelings.

“I spend time with him alone a bunch. It’s not that much different, okay?”

“Besides the fact that you’ll be calling him boyfriend and acting like it, too, you mean.”

Actually, you’ve been trying not to think about what exactly pretending to be his girlfriend entails. You don’t know if he’ll hold your hand, if he’ll hold you closer than he has before, if he’ll kiss you. You think it might be better to wait and see, to not let the possibilities eat at you.

“I know it sounds bad, but it’s Steve. Nothing major will happen. We’re friends and I’m helping him out.”

Robin’s in a tricky spot. She knows how you feel about Steve, obviously, and though he doesn’t see it yet himself, she knows that Steve feels the same, too. It’s taken a lot to hold herself back from speeding things along, and as much as she wishes this fake relationship plan might be a good push, things usually aren’t so easy.

She can also tell that there’s a lot you’re thinking but not saying, but instead of pushing it, she returns to looking at the dresses. It’s not long before she gasps, pulling one of the rack to show you.

“This one,” she says.

“I don’t know. That won’t look good on me.”

It’s pretty, though. You’ll give her that.

“Shut up, everything looks good on you. Will you at least try it on?” She wiggles the hanger in her hand, “for me?”

“Fine.”

You take it from her, walking back towards the fitting rooms with a grinning Robin in tow. She waits outside the door while you change into the dress.

Once it’s on, looking in the mirror, you don’t even know what to think. You’re not one to feel all that confident in what you wear, or in how you look, but this dress makes you feel pretty. Maybe you should make Robin pick out all of your clothes.

“Let me see!” Robin calls.

You step out of the changeroom, doing a shy little spin when she asks. She’s smiling proudly, like she knows she chose well (which she did). She can’t help but think of how Steve will react, because she knows he feels something for you, she can see it on his face everytime he talks about you. He’s just a dork and he doesn’t realize it. Not yet, at least.

“What do you think?” You ask.

“If Steve’s not already in love with you…”

“Don’t finish that sentence.”

If she does, your brain will conjure up way too many ideas of what could possibly happen. If Steve could really feel the same. If maybe he’ll feel those same butterflies in his stomach that you do, if his heart feels bigger when you’re around. In your dreams, he does.

“I’m trying to tell you you look hot!”

-

December twenty-third is the day that Steve’s parents come home as well as the night of the business event. You and Steve have tried to figure out how to act like a couple, quizzing each other on things you already know, setting loose boundaries, but you figure after knowing each other for so long, being so close, it won’t feel much different than now. Besides the extra touching, the possibility of kissing.

You’re already at his house when his parents get home, your makeup and outfit for tonight sitting in Steve’s room. The two of you linger near the front door waiting for their arrival, a nervous and jittery welcoming committee.

The sound of a car pulling into the driveway grabs your attention. It’s a clapperboard snapping shut, marking the scene. Action.

“You ready, babe?” He holds out his arm for you to grab, and you do.

“Time to be the best couple ever,” you reply.

Steve grins at you. He has no idea how to thank you for agreeing to do this, how to even explain to you the relief you’re sure to bring. It’s one less thing for his parents to pick and pry at.

The door opens, and you can already feel a change in Steve’s demeanor. He’s standing straighter, stiffer. You squeeze his arm, a reminder that you’re there.

“Steve, sweetie!” His mother barely greets him before moving onto you, “and this is your girlfriend?”

“Hi, Mrs. Harrington.”

If it were someone else’s mother, you’d be hit with the usual ‘oh please, call me (insert name here).’ However, where the Harringtons are concerned, formality is a must. Besides Steve, of course. From what you know, the apple had fallen very, very far from the tree and you mean that as a compliment.

Even after being friends for so many years, this is the first time you’re actually meeting Steve’s parents. It’s clear that he’s never jumped at the opportunity to have his friends around when they’re home. He’s told you about them, and that’s enough for you.

“Steve! Come help me with the bags, would you?” His dad calls from outside, though he says it as a demand rather than a question.

“Yep, coming,” he replies. He kisses the side of your head before going outside, quick and sure, like he’s done it hundreds of times.

“How was your trip, Mrs. Harrington?” You fill the silence.

“Oh, just lovely, thank you,” she moves to the kitchen, expecting you to follow. “The house looks clean. Do you have something to do with that?”

Despite her trying to sound like she’s joking, you know that she truly doesn’t believe that Steve could be the one keeping the place going. As if he hasn’t been doing just that for ages.

“No, no. It’s really Steve.”

Her eyebrows raise, surprised.

Steve and his father walk in before anything else is said—thank God. You shake hands with Mr. Harrington, saying hello and wearing a tight smile. Steve’s quick to come to your side, an arm over your shoulders like a shield. Your hand moves to hold the one resting on your shoulder.

He’s even more tense when his father’s in the room, you’ve noticed. You hold his hand a bit tighter. You wish you could do something to make him feel better, and you hope that this fake relationship will do that at least a little bit.

Meanwhile Steve’s wondering how your presence could make him feel much better than he usually does with his parents around. You’re a comfort beside him, and when he gets the chance, he kisses your head again, whispering a ‘thank you’ into your hair.

-

The first few hours with Steve’s parents go by dreadfully slow, even with his touch on you most of the time. You’re quickly learning that as a boyfriend—even fake—Steve’s love language is easily physical touch. He has an arm around you, a hand in yours, on your leg, anything.

You’re also learning just how strained his relationship with his parents is. He’d trusted you enough to tell you most of it, but seeing them interact in front of you was different. The backhanded comments, the faces whenever he mentions his job, it makes your heart ache for him.

It’s bad enough that his parents are hardly ever around, but having them act like this when they are? You’re amazed at how good Steve has remained through it all.

When it’s time to get ready for the business party, you’re thankful for the reprieve.

“Think we’re doing a good job?” You ask Steve as he shuts the door to his room.

“They seem to be buying it. Thanks again for doing this.”

“You’ve thanked me like a hundred times, Steve. It’s okay, really.”

You want to tell him that you’re sorry these are the people he has to call family. That he shouldn’t listen to any of the shit they give him about his job or his lack of post-secondary education. That he’s the best boy you’ve ever known.

The problem is, you don’t know how to say all of that without making your feelings for him painfully obvious.

“Just gotta keep it up ‘til Christmas. That’s when they leave.”

“They’re only here for two days?” You knew the trip was going to be short, but forty-eight hours?

“Yeah, something about getting a deal on a cruise. I don’t know.”

He says it so casually, like it’s normal. You guess that for him, it is, but it doesn’t make it any less upsetting.

“Does that mean you’ll come to mine for Christmas day? Like usual?” You ask, hopefully lightening the mood.

“If you’ll have me.”

“Shut up, you’re always welcome. Think my mom likes you more than me anyway,” you nudge his shoulder with yours, then move to bring your stuff into his bathroom to start getting ready.

He leans on the doorframe, watching you set your makeup out on the counter, “she does not.”

“Steve, you have your own stocking hanging on our fireplace. And it’s bigger than mine.”

He smiles genuinely then, the first one since his parents have arrived.

He leaves you to get ready, shutting the bathroom door for when you change. You can still hear him through the door. The opening and closing of his drawers, a curse when he stubs his toe.

So far, pretending to be with Steve has been easy. You’ve acted the same save for the touches or small pecks he’s decided to keep placing on your head or your cheeks. The story you settled on was simple: you met him picking up a movie at Family Video, he asked if you needed company to watch it, the rest is history, blah blah blah.

Steve knocks on the bathroom door when you’re pretty much ready, you glance at yourself one more time in the mirror before opening it.

He stands with his tie in hand, wearing a button up and dress pants. You assume there’s a suit jacket to go along with it, and you think it might kill you. He’s so pretty, and he looks it all of the time but seeing him dressed up is really something.

“You look good, Steve,” you say. Good doesn’t even begin to cover it.

“Thanks. You look- you too.”

Steve’s stunned. He realizes he’s never seen you in anything formal and it’s making him feel all fluttery in his stomach and he doesn’t know what to think of it. He’s always known you’re gorgeous, in an obvious way like how the sky is blue. Now, though, it’s like he can feel it.

He clears his throat quietly and remembers the reason he knocked in the first place, “you don’t happen to know how to tie a tie, do you?”

You’re thankful for the time you decided to learn how when you were bored one day. You take the fabric from his hands, “it’s your lucky day, Steve.”

“Thank you. Didn’t wanna have to go ask my dad.”

He’s almost shy about wanting your help over something so small, his cheeks a little pink, his head bent. You give him a reassuring smile—or what you hope is one—and place the tie around his neck.

His eyes are on you as your hands fiddle with the fabric, doing it up for him. Your eyebrows are slightly scrunched, and he wants to reach out and smooth it out with his thumb. He’s not used to having that urge.

You finish up successfully after having fumbled a little bit, adjusting the tie so it isn’t crooked.

“There you go,” you pat his chest and he hopes you can’t feel his heartbeat, the way it’s quicker than normal.

He has no idea what that’s about.

“Thanks.”

“‘Course.”

He’s still standing close to you, enough that he has to keep his head tilted downwards just a little to be able to look at your face. Your eyes lock onto his, and time seems to slow. You’re so gone for him and you know it, but it almost seems like maybe he’s feeling something too. Just for a moment.

His father calling out that it’s time to go snaps you out of it.

Steve grabs his jacket, shrugging it on then offering you his hand to hold, “let’s do this, girlfriend.”

-

The hall is oozing Christmas when you walk in, Steve’s hand in yours. Ornaments hang down from the ceiling, warm white string lights line the top of the walls, Christmas music hums through the speakers, and an extravagant Christmas tree sits in the middle of the room.

You’ve never been to an event like it, and you have a hard time keeping your nerves at bay.

Pretending in front of Steve’s parents alone was one thing. Now, the stakes are higher. You have to be convincing and though it’s not difficult for you to pretend to be in love with Steve (you don’t have to fake that at all), you worry that you’ll slip up somehow and give yourself away. Both in the sense that the relationship is fake, and that your feelings are anything but.

It’s not long before Steve’s father gets pulled into a conversation, and his mother goes along with him. You’re left standing near the doorway with Steve, biting at the inside of your cheek.

“Relax,” he leans his head close to yours and whispers.

“Sorry. I’m just nervous.”

“We’re fine. You’re fine,” he squeezes your hand, something that’s quickly become a wordless reassurance between you. “We’ve done good so far, right?”

“I guess so.”

“Okay, so there’s nothing to worry about.”

Except for the fact that I love you and that you being a really good fake boyfriend isn’t helping.

“Okay.”

He smiles and leads you further into the room. The smile he gives you is different from the one he gives the people that say hi to him, the people that stop him for a chat. For you, it’s honest. For them, it doesn’t reach his eyes, it doesn’t mean anything.

“About time you tied someone down, Steve,” a man says to him. A coworker of his father’s, just like most men in the room.

“Think she’s the one who got me, but yeah.”

“That’s sweet. Next step is to get you a stable job, huh?”

It seems like all anyone here is concerned about is what people do, who they know. It’s no fun for you and they aren’t even speaking to you directly most of the time.

“Sure. Good to see you,” Steve excuses the both of you from the conversation.

“These people suck,” you say to him, leading him to the bar set up in a corner.

“Tell me about it.”

You order water for the both of you, something to get rid of the dryness in your throat and occupy you for a bit. You drink quietly before Steve speaks up.

“You look beautiful, by the way.”

He doesn’t know why it slips out now, but it does. The thought has been on his mind since he saw you standing there in his bathroom, and it’s getting harder and harder to ignore.

“You don’t have to say that, Steve. Nobody’s listening.”

“I mean it, seriously.”

“Oh,” you look down at your glass, at the condensation running down the side. The corners of your mouth lift, “thank you.”

“I know this isn’t the most fun, but I’m glad you’re here with me,” he admits. He’s always been sweet to you, but this feels different. You don’t know how or why, but it does.

“I am too.”

Steve’s dad interrupts your moment, pulling Steve off to meet some people. Already, there’s a guard being put up by him, a shield he saves for his father.

For those few minutes, where it was just you and Steve, you realized that he’s probably the best date you’ve ever had. He pays attention to you, he’s comforting without even trying, and he compliments you with so much honesty you could melt.

He’s the best date you’ve ever had and it’s fake. It’s becoming a mantra repeated in your head; it’s not real, it’s not real.

Lost in thought, you don’t notice the boy who’s sat next to you now.

“I’ve never seen you before,” he says.

“I’m not usually at these things. I came with my boyfriend,” you tell him, unsettled by his stare.

“And where is this boyfriend now?”

“He’s out there. I just needed some water but he’ll come back soon.”

You’re trying to get him to go away, to take the hint. He won’t.

“Why don’t I keep you company in the meantime?”

You’re about to reply when someone else does it for you, “not necessary. She’s my girl.”

My girl. Steve. He stands behind you, wraps his arms around your waist. It’s like he knew you needed him then, showing up as soon as you felt like you wanted to search for him. He runs his hands over your sides, a possessive touch that has your skin tingling.

“My bad, man. Thought she was lying about the boyfriend,” the guy says.

“She wasn’t. Even if she was, maybe you should learn to tell when someone isn’t interested, yeah?”

The stranger nods and walks off.

You spin in Steve’s hold, facing him. “My hero.”

“You know me,” he shrugs.

What he doesn’t say is that seeing another guy talk to you made his gut churn, bringing something that he didn’t want to admit was jealousy. He also saw the look on your face, the discomfort, and felt his feet carry him over before his mind could think it first.

His hands are still on your waist, even with the stranger gone.

-

It’s not until Steve’s parents are ready that you leave. They’ve taken advantage of the champagne that sat on trays, free for the taking, as well as the opportunity to talk up their son to many, many people. It seems they’re only proud of him when there’s other people around, and even then, the praise doesn’t hold much weight.

He’s trying his best. At least he’s working. He’s got a girlfriend now. No, he doesn’t host backyard parties while we’re gone anymore.

You wish you could speak up, but you know, with this many people around, it’d cause more harm than good. It’s hard to listen to the people that raised Steve talk about him the way they do. You want so badly to shout in their faces how brilliant he is, no thanks to them. How he has the kindest soul and a sort of midas touch that makes everything shine.

At least, you think he does. You promise yourself to love him better than they ever did, even if it’s in secret.

One memory from the night overpowers the rest, luckily. ‘Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas’ played, a slower rendition, and a slow dance ensued. You watched couples split off, and when you looked at Steve, he was already looking at you, a question on his face and a hand outstretched.

You fell into step with him quickly. It wasn’t awkward for a second. One of your hands in his, the other on his shoulder, his on your waist. You swayed together, unknowingly moving closer until you were close enough to rest your head on his chest. And you did.

He rested his head atop of yours and hummed the song softly. You’ll dream about that dance, probably.

Now, you sit in the car with Steve, who’s become the driver. He drops his parents off at his house first, leaving the two of you alone for the drive to yours. He sneaks glances at you at stop signs and red lights, turning back to the road when he thinks he’s been caught.

His mind is full because he’s looking at you in a way he hasn’t before. He sees parts of you that he was blind to before. The shape of your lips, for example. The dip of your spine and the way it feels to hold you. It’s dizzying and warm, confusing and sparkling all at once.

Once he’s pulled up to your house, he offers to walk you to the door. Ever the gentleman. A romantic no matter how much he denies it, you think. He gets misty-eyed when you watch rom-coms, opens doors for you, has bought flowers for nearly all of his dates, as far as you know.

What must it be like to receive flowers from Steve Harrington?

He faces you on your front porch, hands in his pockets, “thank you again for doing this.”

“How many times do I have to tell you it’s okay. I’m happy to help you, Steve. You’re my best friend.” Who I love more than anyone.

“You’re mine, too, honey.”

It’s not the first time he’s called you that. Turns out, it was his default to use in your fake relationship. It is, however, the first time he’s said it when it’s just the two of you. It sounds sweet coming from his lips, sticky. Just like honey itself.

“What time should I be over for dinner tomorrow?” You ask. It’s the last hurdle of the fake dating.

“How ‘bout I come pick you up after I finish work?”

“Yeah, okay, that’d be great, thanks.”

You wrap your arms around yourself, the cold of December biting your skin.

“Here,” Steve notices, of course he does, and he reaches out with his hands, rubbing them up and down your arms to warm you.

“How’re your hands still warm?” You ask.

“I'm magic.”

You smile at that. He has no idea.

He reaches up with one hand to cup your cool cheek, and you nudge your face into his touch. For the warmth, you tell yourself. That’s it. His thumb runs over your skin, once, twice.

“Did I ever tell you that you have a pretty smile?” He says it so quietly you almost miss it. You don’t, though, and there’s a swarm of butterflies in your gut because of it.

“Shut up,” you try to mask your bashfulness.

Then, just like that, his face is close to yours. So close that it looks like he might kiss you. His eyes flick from your mouth up to yours, like he’s unsure of what’s happening while he’s doing it.

You can feel his breath tickling your lips, the ghost of his mouth on yours. Before that can happen, he’s swerving away quickly, planting a kiss on your cheek instead. The one he isn’t holding. His mouth lingers for a second.

“Goodnight,” he whispers against your skin.

“Night,” you say, dazed. And he’s walking away.

Steve’s not at all sure what’s come over him. He wanted to kiss you just then, to tangle his fingers in your hair and kiss you stupid. What the fuck was happening to him?

When you let your eyes flutter shut, your mouth parted slightly, like you’d let him kiss you, like you wanted it, too, he panicked. Couldn't do it.

No, he doesn’t know what just happened, why it did, or why he’s resisting the urge to go back and knock on your door and actually kiss you when you open it. What he does know is that his heart seems to be doing something funny when you’re around, and that your fake relationship has been better than any of his real ones.

He knows he needs to talk to Robin about this.

-

Steve had to work the next morning—Christmas Eve—which he was actually thankful for. Thankful to get away from his parents, though the comments about his job followed him out the door this morning. Especially thankful because he needs to talk to Robin and sort out the mess of his feelings that has occurred in the last twenty four hours.

He couldn’t stop thinking about how much he wanted to kiss you. About how his stomach was all twisty when you slow danced with him. There are so many moments playing over in his memory. Not just from yesterday, either.

He remembers the way his stomach would sink when you’d tell him about a date you had or how he’d often reach out a hand to tuck your hair behind your ear, or to wipe something away from the corner of your mouth.

So many things over your friendship that he never thought about are coming back to him and he’s realized he doesn’t act that way with any of his other friends. Only you.

He also realizes that he hasn’t really been pretending with you at all.

“I think I love her,” Steve blurts out while he and Robin are organizing returns, the store luckily empty.

Robin reaches into her pocket, barely fazed, and tosses a handful of confetti at Steve. Some pieces stick to his hair, some to his clothes, most of it at his feet.

“What the hell?” He shakes the flecks out of his hair, “we have to clean that now.”

“I’ve been carrying around confetti for like a year waiting for this to happen!”

“Wait, what?”

“Steve, you’ve been loving her for a long time, hate to break it to you.”

“And you didn’t tell me?” He’s no longer preoccupied with the confetti.

“I was letting you do it on your own time. You’re welcome.”

Steve had only just deduced that he’s in love with you and yet, when he thinks about you, he feels the same way he has for years. He finds it hard to believe that he’s been blind to it for that long, but he has been called an idiot enough in his lifetime for it to make sense.

Then, there’s the fact that you’re not done fake dating yet, that there’s still dinner today to get through and he doesn’t know if he’ll be able to keep himself together.

“What am I gonna do, Robin?”

“You’re gonna tell her how you feel and I will finally know peace.”

“What if she doesn’t feel the same? What if I freak her out?”

“Steve, she looks at you like sun shines from your pores,” she places a hand on his shoulder. “You’ll be fine.”

-

He picks you up after work as promised, his hands holding the wheel a little tighter, his greeting a little louder than normal. You figure he’s just nervous about dinner.

Nobody brings up the almost kiss, and you don’t plan to. Maybe you read things wrong. Maybe he was aiming for your cheek all along. Maybe he’s been thinking about it as much as you have.

It seems that your feelings for Steve are present now more than ever. Impossible to ignore. It might have something to do with the Christmas spirit floating around, the lightness of the holidays. It definitely has something to do with you being Steve’s fake girlfriend.

Because it turns out, he’s an excellent boyfriend, real or not.

He opens doors for you, even if he has to jog ahead of you to do it. He’s always got at least one hand on you, warm and sure. He looks at you with so much care, his brown eyes stuck on you.

It’s all adding up and you feel like your love for him is overflowing, pouring out of you before you can reel it in. You just hope he doesn’t notice that you’re not acting, that you never were.

Walking into Steve’s kitchen, you pause in the doorway, him behind you, “this smells great, Mrs. Harrington.”

Though Steve knows she probably bought most of the stuff and then put it in pots and pans to make it look like she cooked, he agrees, “so great, mom.”

She turns to look at you both from her spot by the stove, “thank you. Oh!” She cuts herself off with a gasp, her gaze drifting above your heads.

Oh no.

“Mistletoe,” she says, pointing.

“Look at that,” you laugh, short and awkward.

“Steve, sweetie, kiss your girlfriend for tradition's sake, won’t you.”

He kisses you on the cheek.

“A real one, son,” his father pipes up from his seat at the table.

Steve finds your gaze, his eyes wide and questioning. Are you okay with this? He’s asking without saying it. You nod, barely there, but you nod and he sees it.

He cups your cheek in his hand, flashes of last night on your porch come to you. He leans in slowly, like he’s waiting for you to stop him. Instead of doing that, you hold his wrist in your hand, squeeze it. Your silent communication.

In a blink, his lips are on yours. Pillowy and almost shy, but he’s kissing you and you feel like you’re floating, your feet off the ground and everything. He pulls away before you can even register the fact that it happened.

Your heartbeat is loud in your ears, your lips still burning with the memory of his.

Steve can't believe he hasn’t kissed you before. You’re soft and you fit together so well, like the final piece of a jigsaw puzzle clicking into place. He’s kicking himself for not doing it last night, when you were alone, when it was real. Next time he kisses you, he thinks, it will be real.

He clears his throat, tearing his eyes away from you, “so, let’s eat.”

Just like that, he’s moving to the table, pulling out a chair for you and kissing the top of your head once you’ve sat down. Already, the extra affection he’s been giving you has been dizzying. Now, it’s dialed way up.

He helps his mom serve the food before he sits down, though all he gets as a thank you is a pat on the cheek. Next to you, you can see Steve’s leg bouncing up and down. You reach out and place a hand above his knee, stilling him and drawing his gaze to yours.

You smile, and you hope it’s enough to say it’s okay, it’s all gonna be fine. He rests his hand on top of yours, fingers laced together.

“So, Steve, have you been looking for jobs?” His father speaks up. The never-ending topic.

“No, dad. I have a job,” Steve doesn’t look up from his plate, pushing mashed potatoes around with his fork.

“Well, a real job, I mean.”

At Steve’s silence, his mom adds, “we just think, especially now that you have a girlfriend to support, you should look for something… better.”

You look up when she says it, eyes wide and hand tensing on Steve’s leg. You don’t understand how they care so much about what he does and so little about how he feels. He likes his job, you know that, and he’s tried to tell them multiple times over the past couple of days.

And still.

It’s impossible for you to sit by and listen to them talk to him the way they do, like he isn’t good enough. Like the only defining thing is his job, which isn’t even a bad one. What defines him is who he is as a person and he’s the best one in your life.

“Why does it matter so much?” You ask.

His parents look at you, surprised to be questioned, it seems. Steve looks at you, too, with something more like astonishment, appreciation.

“I’m sorry,” you continue, “it’s just, you haven’t seen your son in how long? And all you guys keep bringing up is his job, which he’s told you he actually enjoys. Shouldn’t that be enough for you?”

Steve’s world is tinting pink, heart-shaped lenses over his eyes hearing you defend him. Nobody’s ever tried to go against his parents for him, and here you are. Fuck, he loves you.

They’re quiet, and you’re not finished. “Steve is the greatest person I’ve ever met, and that’s no thanks to you. I’ve known him for a long time and not once have I seen you guys around. How can you judge him so much when you don’t even take the time to know him anymore?”

The room is dead quiet. Nothing but the clinking of forks against plates for the rest of the meal. You feel lighter, after saying what you did. Though you’re also terrified that you’ve overstepped, that Steve will be upset with you for causing a scene.

As if sensing your worry, he holds your hand just a bit tighter.

It’s not until after dinner, hidden away in his room, that you talk about what happened. Not the kiss; your outburst.

He shuts his door and you’re already apologizing, “listen, Steve. I'm so sorry if I made things worse, but I couldn’t just let them shit on your job anymore. I couldn’t. You’re my best friend, you know that, and-”

His arms are around you in a blink.

“Thank you,” he breathes into your hair. “Nobody’s ever done anything like that for me. Thank you, honey.”

“Oh,” you blink away your surprise and wrap your arms around his shoulders. “Anytime.”

“You’re really special.”

Your smile spreads, spilling before you can do anything about it. You hide your face in his neck and stay that way until he lets go, a flush in his cheeks and stars in his eyes.

Steve wanted to tell you he loves you right then, but the words seem stuck in his throat. They won’t come up. He wants to be with you for real, and though it happened in a rush, it also didn’t. His brain just needed to catch up to his heart.

He doesn’t say it, but he will. As soon as he can.

“Wanna go watch a movie?” You ask.

“Yeah, okay.”

Movie night. You and him. That’s real.

-

Steve’s parents seem to have gone out somewhere, the car missing from the driveway. They haven’t left, though. You and Steve checked for the suitcases (they’re sitting, already packed, in their room).

Playing the movie, yet another Christmas pick that Steve couldn’t say no to, you share a blanket. There’s plenty of room on the couch, you’re the only people there, and yet, Steve still tosses an arm over your shoulders and pulls you to lean against his side.

Maybe he’s just doing it in case his parents come home while you’re downstairs. That’s gotta be it.

“Is it bad that I’m sort of relieved they aren’t here right now?” Steve says to you, quiet.

“Not at all. You deserve better than what they give you, Steve.”

“You think so?”

“Are you kidding? I know so.”

He lets his head lean atop of yours, and that’s that.

You want to bring up the kiss, but then again, why would you? It’s not real. It’s not real no matter how much you wish it was, no matter how much it feels that way. You knew going into this that you might end up kissing Steve, you just didn’t know it’d fuck you up so much.

Part of you hopes that mistletoe will appear above your heads yet again, just to be able to feel the way you did when he kissed you. Heart fluttering, stomach twisting, warm all over.

Though Steve’s head feels relaxed, resting on yours, it’s overflowing with thoughts. You, his parents, the way you defended him, how it felt to kiss you, how much he wants to do it again. You. The entire length of the movie, he’s trying to think of a way to tell you he loves you. The best he comes up with is to wing it.

When the screen fades, and the film ends, you remember the gift you’d left in Steve’s room, buried at the bottom of your overnight bag (you decided to sleep over, something you’ve done too many times to count, and head to your place in the morning with Steve). You sit up, only to face him.

“I have something for you. C’mon,” you tug on his hand, leading him all the way to his own bedroom.

“What?”

“Just,” you make him sit down on his bed when you’re in the room, digging through your bag and finding the present you’d wrapped last night. “Here.”

He takes it from your hand slowly, like it’s the most precious thing in the world. He doesn’t open it right away, staring at the red and green patterned wrapping paper and the gold stick-on bow sitting in the middle of it.

“Open it,” you urge, shuffling nervously on your feet.

He shoots you a shy smile before tearing at the paper, revealing a scrapbook of sorts. Flipping through the pages, he finds memories upon memories. Pictures of you and him, of him and Robin, all three of you. Some with the kids or with Eddie. Most of them he doesn’t even remember taking.

And it’s more than just pictures. There’s movie tickets and receipts from random fast food dinners, confetti from a surprise party for Dustin and a piece of a plate Steve broke once.

It’s the most thoughtful thing anyone’s ever given him. It reminds him that he does have a family, no blood relation needed.

“Honey,” he says it quietly, his eyes watering ever so slightly. “This is- I don’t even know what to say.”

“I know it’s not much, but I thought you’d like it.”

“No. I love it. It’s perfect, seriously,” he runs his finger over a picture of the two of you, your faces squished together and your smiles absolutely ridiculous. “Best gift ever.”

He means it.

“I had some help with the pictures. Everyone in that book loves you, Steve.”

Everyone in that book. That means you love him, too. He knows that you could mean it platonically, but something about the way you look at him when you say it makes him think that he has to tell you. He has to try.

He’s suddenly very glad he bought you a locket for Christmas, and that he left it unwrapped because of his lack of skills in that department.

“Close your eyes,” he says.

“Steve-”

“Please,” he trades spots with you, sitting you on the edge of his bed, “close your eyes for a minute, ‘kay?”

“Okay,” you shut them tight, placing a hand over them as well, “double closed.”

He rushes to grab the locket from the bottom of one of his drawers, then grabs the tiniest bit of paper and manages to write as small as he can on it, placing the message in the necklace and closing it with a small click.

Steve reaches for the hand that isn’t covering your eyes, opening it up and placing the delicate piece of jewelry in it. “Okay, open.”

You do, glancing down to what rests in your palm. It’s gorgeous, dainty, and the corners of your mouth lift at the sight of it.

“It’s beautiful, Steve. You didn’t have to.”

“It’s a locket,” he says. His head is bent, shy and visibly nervous. “Open it, too.”

Your heartbeat picks up, like you know, subconsciously, that something big is hiding inside despite the small size of the necklace itself. You wedge your fingernail into the gap, pushing the locket open. The note inside makes your stomach drop.

In his messy, rushed writing, the words ‘I love you.’

You look at him, mouth agape and hopes way up. “Steve?”

“I mean it.”

“How-”

“I mean I’m in love with you, and I think I have been for a really, really long time. I guess it took you being my fake girlfriend for me to realize it.”

“You’re not pranking me, are you?”

You’ve spent so long loving him, and convincing yourself that he could never love you the same, that it feels unreal. Hazy, like a dream.

He sits beside you, cupping your face in his hands softly to make you look at him, “I’m not pranking you. I love you.”

“Holy shit. I love you, too. For so long. I never thought I had a chance with you.”

“I think you’re the only person who’s had a real chance with me since I met you, honey.”

Right there, discarded wrapping paper on the floor, the glow of Christmas lights shining through the window, you doubt you’ll ever take that locket off once it’s on.

You can’t stop yourself from rushing forward and kissing him. A small press of your mouth against his at first, then, it’s more. It’s slow and every single thing you’ve ever wanted. His lips move with yours like they’re the only ones that know you.

This time, when you kiss, there’s no question. It’s real and it’s thawing every single worry you ever had about this. This is real, you get to think now.

Steve pulls away only when your breathing gets heavier, only when he absolutely has to. His thumb trails over your cheek, a lover’s touch. He takes the necklace from your hand, puts it on for you and kisses you again when he’s done.

“Do you think this was a Christmas miracle?” You say, teasing.

“I think this was just me being too stupid to notice how I feel about you. I know now, though.”

“Because you needed a fake girlfriend.”

“Because I needed a fake girlfriend,” he confirms. “But, I’d like a real one now.”

“I think I can manage that,” you nod, a lovesick smile on your face.

For once, Steve’s glad his parents came home. He never would have asked you to fake date him if they hadn’t, and he wouldn’t have realized his very real feelings for you, either. So, maybe it is a Christmas miracle, after all.

༄

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[werewolfnat]

Make Me Choose | @softasawhisper asked Steve's bitchy hands on hips pose or Steve pinching the bridge of his nose in frustration

[ashwhowrites]

Hiiii, Can you do a Steve Harrington x reader? About how they used to be best friends since they were kids then high school came around so did king Steve. Anyways, the reader confesses her feelings for him but before he can reply, his friends laugh and make fun of her. The reader stops being friends with him because he never defended her. But now, Steve has changed and wants to make things right and finally be with the girls he has always loved.

I hope this is what you wanted and you enjoy it. Thank you for requesting 🫶🏻

High school mistake

Y/N never thought she would see the day her best friend Steve outgrew her. He was always shy and quiet, and they never left each other's side. They grew up together and now they were in high school and Y/N was struggling with the change.

Steve became popular once he joined the basketball team. Y/N remembered how excited she was when he made it, but now she wished he never tried out. It was selfish of her, but she missed her best friend.

The other issue was she was in love with Steve, pathetically and helplessly in love. She was always too scared to say anything but she didn't have to worry about much since no one looked their way. But now that he was popular, girls began looking his way.

Y/N was jealous and didn't know how to handle it. She figured she might as well try to go for it because it wouldn't be long until a girl beat her to it. So on a random day at school, she walked up to Steve.

She was terrified but losing him scared her even more.

She wished she could say it went well and they have been together since, but that would be a lie. She could never forget the look on his face as the words left her lips. He looked shocked, his eyes wide and mouth open. She confessed she was in love with him and he stood frozen. Before he could reject or confess, his friends around the halls laughed. They laughed as hard as they could as they ran up to them.

Steve never stood up for her, in the moment and after the moment.

It's been two years and she hasn't talked to him since. She was hurt and felt betrayed. The least he could have done was apologize after the fact and tell his friends to quit being assholes. But he never did.

Now, of course, people say he has changed. He now wasn't friends with anyone from high school. Apparently, he hung out with one girl, and the rest were younger children. It was a bit odd but it wasn't her place to care anymore. She hadn't seen him in months but figured she'd have to face him one day.

That day arrived faster than she wished. She was out at the mall when she saw his hair over the racks. She felt herself stop breathing and ducked down. She looked around the store, wondering if she could sneak by before he sa-

"Y/N?"

She squeezed her eyes shut as she heard his voice. She slowly stood up and opened her eyes.

"Steve," she greeted him with a small smile.

"I haven't seen you in forever, how are you?" He asked, a big smile on his face like everything was cool. She froze when he wrapped his arms around her. He pulled back when she didn't move.

"I'm good. How are you?" She asked, trying her best to be polite.

"Good! Not much to complain about. I'm taking Dustin suit shopping so I better get back. But maybe we could get coffee or something? Catch up?" He asked, his hands in his pockets as he turned his head.

She forgot how pretty his brown eyes were. Years later he still made her heart race.

"We really don't have to do that, Steve." She sighed and he frowned at her response

"I want to" he fought

"I don't," she snapped, she took a deep breath to calm herself. "See you, Harrington."

Steve watched hurt as she turned around and left. Dustin was yelling his name but he couldn't move until her body vanished from his vision.

~~~

The run-in happened a week ago and Steve was still thinking about it. He hoped there wouldn't be hard feelings after all these years, but he was clearly wrong. He did want to talk to her, get the chance to apologize, and maybe fix things again.

He never forgot about her and missed her. He missed having his best friend and he knew it was his fault she left. He could have fixed it many times and he never did. But this time he was going to.

He showed up at her house or hoped she still lived there. He was right when she opened the door.

It took a lot of convincing but he made it inside, sitting on the familiar couch he slept on during sleepovers. He remembered how he wanted to sneak into her room and wrap his arms around her body. The countless times he fell asleep thinking about kissing her.

"What do you want?" She asked, already tired from the mess. Ever since she saw him it was like she started all over.

"I want to apologize for the shit I did in high school," he said but she just scoffed.

"Many years late for it to matter, or fix anything. Is that all?"

"Can you give me some mercy please?" He pleaded, his stupid eyes begging

"Why? You never gave me any" she shrugged, looking down at her hands as she played with the pillow on her lap.

"I know and I do mean it when I say I'm sorry," Steve said, softly touching her hand to make her look up. She froze but looked into his eyes.

"You gave me many chances to fix it and fix us. I was stupid and never did. I know I don't deserve to be here right now, and it's fair for you to hate my guts. But I miss you."

"I miss you too but I don't know. I lost my only friend and I suffered. You have to be popular and live life. Now you come back because it's all done? That makes me feel like shit." She explained

Steve listened to every word, moving closer as he moved the pillow off her lap. Now he held both her hands as his body leaned closer.

"Hit me, scream at me. Do whatever you need to do, I don't care. But after can we please start over? I never forgot what you said."

"Please don't bring that up," she mumbled embarrassed as she yanked her hands away. She stood up to give herself space from him.

"No, I will because we never talked about it," he fought as he stood up

"And who's fault was that?" She scoffed as she crossed her arms. "I get over it, so let's move on."

"I didn't though," he whispered

"What are you saying? It's been years, Steve. Do you think I still am completely in love with you after you rejected me?" She rolled her eyes, praying the front she put up was enough to fool him.

"Kiss me," he said, now standing right in front of her

"What?"

"Kiss me and if you don't feel anything, and you know there's no love in your heart anymore. Tell me that while you look in my eyes and I'll leave you alone." He explained, his voice getting lower and deeper as he moved closer. His face was inches away from hers as she tried to control her breathing.

She wasn't sure if she could lie to his face but what did she have to lose?

"Fine," she said, leaning in and pressing her lips against his. She planned to do a soft peck but then his hand landed on the back of her head. He made the kiss way more passionate and she fell into the trap. She clung to his shoulders as she kissed him harder.

It was as perfect as she always thought it would be. His lips were soft, warm, and in control. It took her breath away and made her head fuzzy. It was like everything melted and she was a puddle in his hands.

She gasped as his tongue slipped inside her mouth. And then he pulled away. She fought with everything in her not to chase his lips.

She blinked a few times as she looked into his eyes, trying to regain her thoughts.

She had the words on her tongue, ready to tell him he lost his chance and she could live with that. But he was finally doing what she dreamed about. He was fighting for her, and he planned to leave if she said the word. If she said it, he'd move on and fall in love with another girl. What would she win? Pride? But at the cost of a broken heart and never loving him for the sake of herself.

Maybe it wasn't what he deserved but what she deserved. And fuck it, she deserved to have her heart fixed.

"I love you," she whispered

She could see his eyes light up and the shy smile on his face.

"God, I love you too," he whispered, closing the space between them.

[whoahoney]

The Big Bad Day

Steve Harrington x teacher!Reader

Summary: You’re a new teacher and your year has been hard, this day in particular, and your boyfriend Steve knows just what to say.

Content Warnings: children are dicks, hurt/comfort, mature language

A/N: for all of us that need to cry in Steve’s arms just for a little bit 🤍 requested by my dear @loving-and-dreaming

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

You had had enough.

You were no stranger to difficulty or bad days, but this one would go down in the books.

Ever since you got the teaching position at Hawkins Elementary, you’d been optimistic about your days spent with the future of the world, teaching them their order of operations and proper sentence structure, eagerly imagining the books you’d read with the class and what crafts to make to decorate the door for each season and occasion.

But when it came down to it, it felt most days like they saw you as another child. Lessons were filled with thrown pencils, students getting up out of their seats to move around and bother their friends, as if you weren’t there, homework going without being filled out, literal 8 year old boys heckling you during your lectures,

And as if that wasn’t enough, your colleagues seemed no different. You were easily the youngest teacher there and staff meetings and lunch breaks were spent feeling invisible behind your coffee mug, no matter how many thoughts you tried to contribute. They always seemed to silence your words before they could manage their way out of your mouth.

Today, things amped up.

Richie Timmons incited a riot.

A full on riot.

The assignment was making paper snowflakes. You’d given a wonderful tutorial on how to fold and cut the snowflakes, you’d shown them the special glitter glue you’d bought with your own money, and passing out supplies seemed to go well and then they just… ruined it.

Richie decided today he’d crumple up the center pieces for their desk clumps you’d worked so hard on and start a snowball fight, leading everyone to use any and all paper to their disposal.

You’d tried to stop it, everyone throwing them at the quietest kid in the class first, but then their attention turned to you, and not in the way you wanted. Suddenly all the paper wads were smacking you in the face, with impressive aim and power, you noted.

Not to mention the pencils, crayons, and eventually scissors that flew about the room, causing you to lose your cool.

And to top it off, the wicked witch of the west hall shows up to the staff meeting talking about hearing it all from the other side of the school.

This earned you so many dirty looks from your peers, not to mention the principal. Your cheeks heated as you stared into the bread of your sandwich so lovingly prepared by your boyfriend, wanting nothing more than to melt into the floor and disappear.

You wanted to quit.

But what about Sarah H and her cursive? She’s almost got it!

Or Corey B and his separation anxiety from his mom? He’s shown some real courage lately, and another change in his routine could just mess it all up.

You laid in bed that night waiting for your boyfriend to come home to your newly shared place, trying to get the tears out before he showed up.

But they wouldn’t come.

Your body wouldn’t allow it. You felt it, so strongly, the urge and pressure to burst into tears, but the cries were buried deep in your chest, not allowed to erupt for whatever reason. Instead, you curled up on your side of the bed with a massive tension headache.

Right as you thought you might fade into restless sleep, the front door clicked open and your heart leapt.

Steve’s home.

He worked late a couple evenings a week, tonight being one of them. As you heard him drop his keys onto the counter and shrug off his jacket, you weighed the options of talking to him about it all or pretending to be asleep to not bother him.

But then the bedroom door creaked quietly, clicking closed behind him. Steve had mastered the art of walking silently, practically floating across the floor as he whispered hopefully, “Are you awake?” He reached out to touch your shoulder, his fingertips grazing it before you turned over to face him.

Of course he looked this beautiful, he always did. But why did he have to look at you like that? Like you were special, like he longed for you though he already had you.

The sight alone made the dam you spent your whole day building crumble. With your brows knit together and a pout on your lips, his face melted into concern as he scrambled into bed, pulling your pliant body to him and wrapping you up in an embrace.

“Sweet girl, what’s wrong? What happened?” He whispered just above your ear. You felt your hands against his bare chest, the contact soothing you some. His hand found its way into your hair, his fingertips stroking your scalp as you heaved and sobbed. “I got you, it’s okay, I’m here.” He said intermittently.

When you found yourself blurry eyed and stuffy, and your sobs had ceased, you found yourself laying with your head on Steve’s chest. His hand stroked up and down your back while the other kept your hair from falling in your face.

After giving you a few regular breaths of quiet, he wrapped his arms back around you, “Do you wanna talk about it, baby?”

“My dream job sucks.” You sniffled against his warm skin. “And I suck at it.” You whispered.

“What??” Steve craned his neck to look her in the eye.

“No one respects me. Ever! Not even the other teachers. It’s embarrassing, everyone else has great classes and cute artwork they’ve gotten their kids to collaborate on, but when it comes to 8 year olds?” You shook her head, “I’m hopeless. I chose the wrong career path.” You shrugged.

“That’s so not true, are you kidding? You’re kidding, right?” He asked, searching for the light ‘just kidding’ after your usual self deprecating jokes. But it didn’t come.

“Maybe I’m just not cut out for it.” You shrug, sliding off his chest and situating yourself on your side, his hand reaching out to hold yours.

“Babe, I’m sorry, but I don’t think you could be more wrong.” He sighed, his finger coming up to trace your cheekbone.

You closed your eyes in avoidance, you’d already made up your mind. “There’s a little boy being bullied in my class. He’s shy, smart as a whip, though. But today we were making snowflakes—” Steve smiled, remembering you sitting at the dining table, meticulously folding and cutting paper while he cooked your dinner, “—and Richie,” Steve rolled his eyes at the mention of the kids name, “just got all these kids to gang up on him! And me! Can you believe that? And it took forever it felt like, to get everyone to stop throwing shit, and yelling. Thankfully, he came out unscathed, but—“ your breath caught, “he’s gonna remember that forever. He may not want to come to school tomorrow. And it’s my fault. I’m the freaking teacher and I can’t get them to— I’m a freaking joke, Steve.”

“—You are not a joke!” He said without hesitance, his tone laced with offense taken from your words. You froze. “Do you.. do you not see how much time to spend putting lessons together? Or hear how much you talk about your kids? How much you care? You love your job. Your job is just hard and overwhelming, and you’re new at it! It’s gonna be really hard for a few years, don’t you think? But once you settle, things are gonna get so much better.” He nodded as he spoke softly, just above a whisper in the quiet apartment.

“The year’s halfway over,” he continued, “If you hate it by the end of the year, then quit! Find somewhere else, and we’ll go, but don’t quit now.” He pleaded.

The tears pouring from your eyes were steady and quiet, his message received as he ran his thumb over your cheek. You nodded. “You’d come with me?” You asked.

He nodded, “Of course I would. I’ll go wherever you are. And wherever we end up, I’m gonna come visit you in your classroom. And I’m gonna bring you lunch and flowers, and someday your kids are gonna have to start calling you Mrs. Harrington, instead.”

You sniffle and chuckle airily at the thought. “It’s all gonna be okay. And if you decide you don’t wanna teach and do something else, I’m more than happy to cheer you on in your next venture. No matter what.” He implored.

You nodded as he leaned forward to kiss your forehead. “I want you to sleep. Okay? And tomorrow you’re gonna go to school, and try again. Because that’s what you do. And I’ll be here when you get home waiting to hear all about it, yeah?”

You nodded, tears filling your eyes once more.

“And if you need to, call me at lunch. Okay? My whole day’s open, I’ll be home.” He nodded, “You aren’t alone. And you aren’t the worst. If anything, I think you’re the best. The greatest! Y’know if you were my teacher in fourth grade I would’ve been so happy to listen to you.” He traced around your brow and down to your cheekbone, ending at the tip of your nose as you chuckled. He wiped your tears away.

“S’gonna be okay, baby.” He whispered.

You nodded. “Thank you, Stevie. I love you, so so much.” You leaned forward and pressed a kiss to his lips.

“I love you more. Tomorrow’s gonna be better.” He assured you, pulling you close again and holding you until you fell asleep in his arms.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

As you wait for the call to go through on your lunch break, you hear a knock at your classroom door, making you jump and hang up the phone. You smooth your hair and open the door, only to find Steve standing there with his brightest smile, a vase of daisies in one hand and lunch in the other.

“There’s my girl! How’s your day?” He asked before kissing your cheek and stepping inside.

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Taglist darlings 💖

@loving-and-dreaming @newshade

[upsidedownmvnson]

if yall wanna request something for eddie munson or steve harrington, i plan on writing all day tomorrow and i gotta flex those muscles 👀

soooo <3

requests open for smut/fluff/angst/prompts :)