#steve harrington x petite reader

[bethsvrse]

pov: I find a good smut fic but it includes a daddy kink

[sabrinadelreyy]

let's take a moment to appreciate joe with glasses

[biggestsimponhere]

STAND WITH PALESTINE. STAND AGAINST GENOCIDE. USE YOUR PLATFORM. YOU HAVE A VOICE THAT PALESTINIANS DO NOT. IT TAKES NOTHING TO SIGN A PETITION. PLEASE HELP PALESTINE. HOPE IS HOW TO HELP. BELIEVE THEY WILL BE FREE AND WORK TO HELP FREE THEM. ELEVATE PALESTINE. SIGN PETITIONS. CALL YOUR REPRESENTATIVES. TWEET. POST. REPOST. DO YOUR PART TO HELP THE INNOCENT LIVES BEING STOLEN AWAY. HELP CALL FOR A CEASE FIRE NOW.

[stevesgother]

Chalkboard Hearts - S.H

Pairing - KindergartenTeacher!Steve Harrington x Fem!Mom!Reader

WC - 4.3k

Contains - strangers to friends to lovers, slowburn, so much fluff, teacher!steve and mom!reader. No descriptions are given of reader or abbey, other than that abbey has curly hair, steve and reader are the same age (about 24-25), set early-mid 90's

AN - i don’t write for kids often so i hope this reads well and is realistic. i don’t have a clear end for this series in mind, so i’m gonna keep writing it for as long as y’all want it :) feel free to send requests for blurbs for this AU if you so wish and as always, thank you - emma

“Moooooom,”

You hear a tiny voice whisper in your ear. Most mornings started this way, if not all of them. Whoever said getting children out of bed in the morning was difficult had clearly never met Abbey. Every day you peeled your tired eyes open to see the miniature version of them staring back at you, the only difference being they were much wider, and lacking the distinct fog of leftover sleep.

Today her hair was sticking up in all different directions; frizzy curls here and tangled knots there. Your daughter takes after you in many ways, one being that she’s an active sleeper and it shows when she wakes up. Her bed was always disheveled; embroidered blankets strewn across her bedroom floor and little red lines indented in her cheeks where they had been smushed against her pillow.

“Mornin’ Ab,” you say, voice gravelly with disuse. “Have you made your bed yet?” you eye her suspiciously.

You know she hasn’t and she confirms as much when she spins on her heel and dashes for her room down the hall. Truthfully, you couldn’t care less if her bed was made or not, it was merely a guise to buy you a few extra minutes of peace and quiet each morning.

︵୨୧︵

When she doesn’t reappear, you assume she’s gotten distracted and decide to make your way downstairs to scrounge for something to eat. You never ate breakfast before you had Abbey; either for lack of time or because the smell of food so early in the morning made you nauseous. Eating three meals a day was just one bullet point on the long, running list of changes in your routine since becoming a mother.

Two bowls of Frosted Flakes were set out on the table after deciding there was no time for anything more nutritious.

“Abbey!” You call, “Breakfast!” 

You hear the sounds of sniffling and small feet padding on hardwood as she enters the kitchen– pouting. You try not to gape at the utter monstrosity of an outfit she's put on. She whines, “I don’t know what I want to wear!”

You sense a meltdown coming already, on today of all days. Pre-school was easy, as Abbey was a fairly agreeable kid. Or at least she used to be. Lately it felt like you had to battle her about anything and everything. 

“You look so beautiful, Ab!” you reassure her, attempting to deescalate the impending tantrum. She has on pink corduroy pants and a frilly forest green blouse. For accessories she’s sporting a chunky plastic necklace that definitely came with a dress-up kit, along with a tutu. You have no idea where the tutu came from.

Eventually she decides not to fight you, at least not on her outfit. However, as she climbs into the kitchen chair, she scowls down at the soggy cereal in front of her and asks in the most darling tone she can muster,

“Can I have Scooby fruit snacks instead?”

“How about I pack some in your lunchbox today and you can eat them at snack time?” you try to barter.

Sneaking a glance at the clock, it mocks you with its unforgiving hands– you’re going to be late and your daughter will have skipped supposedly the most important meal of the day. Some mother you are.

“But I want them right now!” Her petite fists bang against the wooden table and she’s a heap of dramatics wriggling in her chair.

“Hey, what did we talk about? Yelling is not nice, even when we’re frustrated. Right?” She acknowledges you with a teary nod along with more crying and petulant moaning that can be heard as you run to the bathroom and grab a hairbrush with two bows. When you return, she’s still moping over her breakfast, but taking bites nonetheless. A win is a win.

You begin detangling the mess of knots and snarls at the back of her head. “Ouch, Mommy!” she cries when you try to comb through a particularly tangled section.

You place one of your hands over the crown of her head like a claw in a poor attempt at keeping her from squirming, “The more you move the longer it takes, sweetheart,” 

“Hmph.” she pouts, folding her arms over her chest. When all is said and done, your daughter has her hair parted and tied into two high pigtails, secured with little pink bows, and you’re rushing her out of the front door with haste.

︵୨୧︵

In all the hubbub, you realize you’ve barely gotten yourself ready. Reaching over to buckle Abbey into her carseat, she asks,

“When can I sit up front with you?”

“When you’re this many,” You hold out both your hands to display all ten fingers.

She mimics you with her own smaller fingers, “Ten?”

“That’s right!” You smack a kiss on the crown of her head as you pull back, she smells like her strawberry scented shampoo.

“Watch your feetsies,” you warn and she tucks her legs unnecessarily far into her chest as you close the door. 

The ride is filled with the usual nonsensical ramblings of a five-year-old. She beams back at you through the rearview mirror, eyes sparkling and nodding fervently when you ask if she’s excited to make some new friends today. Your social butterfly, the complete antithesis of you. 

The elementary school is only a few miles from your home, and before you know it you’re circling a crowded parking lot and preparing to drop your only child off for her first day of kindergarten. The rush of emotions you feel are indecipherable, something like a mix of somberness, excitement, relief, and anxiety.

As you walk towards the front of the building, you’re surrounded by dozens of kids aged five through twelve greeting their teachers and saying ‘Hello’ to friends they haven’t seen all summer. The teachers are holding laminated signs that indicate their name and what grade they teach; thank God for that. Abbey’s little fist squeezes around your index finger and you can tell she’s becoming nervous, despite her previous unbridled anticipation.

“Hey, it’s okay,” You assure, “Look, I think that’s your teacher right there,” you point towards a tall, brunette man standing near the double doors.

A shy smile tugs at the corners of her lips when she sees the teacher in question. He’s dressed in a striped button-down shirt and khakis, with a lanyard dangling from his front pocket; the typical teacher attire.The sign he’s holding reads, ‘Mr. Harrington’ and just below that, ‘Kindergarten’ with a little cartoon apple printed next to his name. He looks young compared to the rest of the staff, closer to your own age. This must be his first year teaching.

As you approach him, Abbey treks in front, eager to meet him. Her backpack is adorned with sparkly butterflies and it covers nearly her entire torso; bumping the backs of her knees with every step she takes.

The man crouches down to her level and greets her, “Hey there,” he offers a warm smile, “what’s your name?”

“Abbey,” she says timidly, twiddling her fingers and flashing a toothy grin at him. She doesn’t bother with her last name, honestly you’re not positive that she even knows it.

“Well, it’s very nice to meet you, Abbey,” he holds a gentle hand out for her to shake and she does so hesitantly, “My name’s Mr. Harrington, and I’m going to be your teacher this year. How does that sound?” The way he’s so patient and attentive with her stirs something within you that you haven’t felt in years, but he’s a teacher, for goodness sake. He looks up then, locking eyes with you and rising back to his full height.

This time, it’s your turn to shake his hand. “I’m Steve.”  He flashes you a smile directly out of a Colgate ad and you hope you’re not blushing as much as you feel like you are.

You must look nervous because he immediately assures you that Abbey’s in good hands this year. “We’re having an open house tonight, I hope to see you both there,”

You glance at your daughter, “What’d you think, Ab? That sound fun?”

“Yes!” She squeals and almost falls over from the weight of her backpack.

“Okay then,” With that, you crouch down to give Abbey one final hug. It’s clear that she’s itching to go socialize with the other kids, so you try not to delay her with your sappiness.

“Be good today, okay?” you give her a tight squeeze and a smacking kiss on her little cheek, “I’ll be back to get you at two-forty-five.”

“What will the clock say?” She asks inquisitively. Her favorite question.

“It’ll say ‘two-four-five’,” She nods in understanding, “But I bet you’ll be having so much fun that you won’t even remember to look.”

She’s already on her way to the door when she calls, “Love you, mommy!” and blows you a kiss with her lips puckered. You blow her one back and fight the tears threatening to surface. When did she get so big?

A pang of insecurity settles in your chest when you chance a look around and see all the children accompanied by two parents. You begin the walk back to your sedan before the thought has a chance to fester.

︵୨୧︵

Six hours goes by alarmingly fast when it’s spent running around your house in a frenzy, trying to catch up on all the cleaning you aren’t able to do when there’s a rampant five-year-old on the loose, making a brand new mess where you just cleaned an old one.

Before you can even register the time has passed, it's two o’clock and you need to pick Abbey up in a mere forty five minutes. Looking around your house, you feel satisfied with the progress you were able to make on tidying and call it a day.

This time, you decide to try and appear more presentable before visiting the school, and firmly remind yourself that it has nothing to do with how flustered your daughter’s kindergarten teacher makes you. By the time you’re dressed and have pulled your hair up into a halfway decent top knot; it’s time to go.

︵୨୧︵

The line for pickup wraps around the front of the building, aided by crossing guards and supervised by a few teachers. Twenty minutes into waiting, you regret not having gotten here a little sooner. ‘Tomorrow’ you think. Soon, you catch sight of two little pigtails bobbing up and down as your Abbey skips over to you, grinning ear to ear while Steve watches from the doors she just exited.

“Mommy!” she shouts as she bounds towards you. You place the car in park and run around to greet her.

“Hi, Bug!” you exclaim as you bend at the waist to pick her up. She gives you a tight squeeze around the neck, and you catch a split second of Steve’s gaze over her shoulder before he’s disappearing back inside the school

Plopping her as gently as possible into her carseat and fastening the straps over her chest, her mouth is already moving a mile a minute– absolutely ecstatic to tell you all about the activities she got up to while you were gone.

“What is ‘open house’ ?” she asks, kicking her feet like she can’t possibly contain all the excitement inside her little body.

“It’s just a chance for all the mommies and daddies to meet your teachers,” you explain, “And you get to show me around your new school, fun right?”

Her face lights up like a christmas tree at the prospect, “Are we gonna go?!”

“Yes, but first we have to eat dinner. What sounds good?”

Without missing a beat, she yells a little too loudly, “McDonalds!”

You want to say yes, of course you do, but your shifts at the ER barely cover the minimum of your living expenses. Your resolve begins to crumble, however, when she looks at you with those saucer-round eyes, and her bottom lip juts out in the most precious pout. Who knew she could be so harmlessly manipulative?

“I don’t know, Ab. I think we have some chicken nuggets in the freezer at home, though,” you say, with an air of hopefulness that she might accept the compromise.

“Not the same,” she whines, “Please, Mommy! I’ll be extra extra good please–”

And with that, it’s over.

“Okay! Okay, fine,” you feign annoyance through a smile, “We’ll stop on the way home,”

You can still hear her squeals of excitement when you close the door and walk around to the driver's seat.

︵୨୧︵

Abbey dresses a little more cohesively for the open house than she did this morning. This time she’s clad in a thrifted pair of overalls overtop a little purple blouse. She leads you, hand in hand, inside the school like she knows exactly where she’s going– despite only having spent six hours here.

Steve’s classroom looks exactly how you’d expect. The walls are a light, mint green and it’s as if a character from Sesame Street threw up all over it. Abbey leads you to a reading nook in the corner of the room, surrounded by books and complete with several bean bag chairs, and proclaims this is her favorite spot. She shows you where her desk is– right in the very front of the classroom– and on it, a laminated sticker with her first and last name sits neatly near the top. The walls are lined with colorful letters in alphabetical order, accompanied with numbers just underneath them.

“Abbey!” you hear a familiar voice call, “I’m glad you and your mom could make it!” turning to you then, “I’m actually not sure I ever caught your name,” he chuckles awkwardly, clearly embarrassed by the fact that he doesn’t know it yet.

“Oh, it’s–” and before you get the chance to tell him, Abbey pipes up and tells him your first and last name with a confidence that she certainly didn’t have when it came to her own introduction this morning. You’re relieved that she feels so comfortable around him already.

He repeats your name back to you and holds out his hand for you to shake, “It’s nice to meet you,” You pay no mind to the way your heart beats a little faster in its cage at the sound of your name on his lips. His palm is surprisingly soft when you grasp it in your own.

“It’s nice to meet you too,” you grant him a polite smile, “Abbey could not stop talking about you on the way home,” you pinch her side, teasing, and she giggles in that contagious way that kids do.

“Is that so?” he feigns surprise when he looks at her.

“Nooo!” her giggles amplify as she becomes increasingly bashful.

He crouches down to meet her at eye-level, exactly like he did this morning, “Well, that’s a shame, because I think you might be one of my favorite students,”

Now, she’s a heap of laughter and has a blush spreading from the apple of her cheeks to the tips of her ears. You can’t help but feel enamored by how great he is with children, silently wondering if he comes from a big family, or if he has a child of his own.

“Did you introduce your mom to Nibbles?” he asks her when her laughing mostly subsides.

She gasps like she can’t believe she would’ve forgotten such a thing, then she hauls you by the arm over to a tiny cage on a table, presumably for an even tinier animal.

“Mommy, look! This is Nibbles,” She’s peering between the metal bars of the enclosure and encouraging you to do the same, when you lean in closer you see a small, tan gerbil sleeping in a little nest of bedding.

“He’s our friend and he helps us learn, so we have to be very careful with him,” she tells you with a sudden seriousness that's amusing to see displayed on such a young face. It’s obvious she’s parroting Steve.

You turn to see Steve observing from a few feet behind you, both hands shoved in his pockets, “I didn’t think teachers actually had class pets,” you breathe a huff of laughter.

“Oh, yeah,” he chuckles with you, “I brought him from home, actually. Figured he could use some socialization. With dozens of children.” he informs you sarcastically. God, he’s funny too.

“Wouldn’t have pegged you to be a hamster guy,” you tease.

“He’s a gerbil, first of all,”

“Right, sorry, my bad,” you smirk.

“No time for a dog, I guess,” he shrugs, “thought I could use the company,” he’s clearly still bantering, but there’s an underlying melancholy in his tone that you can’t quite place. Before you can think about it for longer than a second, an impatient five-year-old is tugging on your arm and begging to show you the library.

“Okay, alright,” you laugh, “better get to it, the library awaits,” you shoot him an apologetic look for having cut the conversation short. You feel less guilty, however, when you see more parents and children start to funnel into the classroom, busying him in yours and Abbey’s absence.

“See ya, “ he waves. 

“Bye, Mr. Harrington!” Abbey yells, already halfway down the hall. 

︵୨୧︵

In the library you have to shush Abbey several times, much to her dismay.

“We use our inside voices in the library, Ab,” you remind her for the fifth time. She frowns but it’s temporary when she spots her favorite section: the picture books. Abbey is ahead of a kindergarten reading level now, and it's one of her favorite hobbies, but you can still never go wrong with a good picture book.

You’re about to follow her when you hear someone call your name. 

You turn, “Stephanie?” you ask, puzzled.

“Oh my gosh! It’s been forever!” an old friend from your shared high school, Stephanie, pulls you into an unreciprocated bear hug. Squeezing and swaying back and forth for an awkward amount of time.

“Hey,” you draw out the last syllable and try to paint your voice with a nostalgic excitement, “How have you been?” you ask, even though you’re sure you’d rather be shot than continue this conversation.

You don’t know if you could really call Stephanie a ‘friend’, or if you ever could. The only reason she even knew your name being the shared, piranha-esq social circle you both ran in years ago. She reminded you of your past– who you used to be– someone who you’re not particularly proud of.

“Oh, I've been just fine!” She gestures wildly with manicured nails. Her lips are overlined and her hair is still damaged from bleaching and too many perms. Evidently, not a lot has changed. You ponder if she’s still the mean girl she always was underneath all that makeup, or if at some point in your adolescence she decided to mature.

“Todd and I just bought a house over on Maplewood, are you familiar?”

“Oh, no, not really– my daughter and I live across town,” You don’t like how ashamed you feel, “I’ve heard it’s beautiful over there, though,” you attempt to smile but it doesn’t reach your eyes.

“That was your daughter?” She’s trying not to sound taken aback and failing, “With–?”

“Yes,” Your teeth grit ever so slightly. You hate that she won’t say his name, as if speaking it into existence would somehow break you. Like you’re fragile.

“I was terribly sorry to hear about what happened, Hon,” Her sudden sympathetic tone irritates you, whether it’s genuine or not. You don’t need pity, especially not from Stephanie Nettles.

“It’s okay, Steph, really,” losing patience by the second, nothing about it was okay. “It was a long time ago, Abbey and I are doing fine,” you assure her.

“Oh,” she fawns as she presses her bony hands against her chest above her heart, “Can I meet her? Would you mind?" Her tone is saccharine sweet. You figure it can’t hurt, but when you turn around to retrieve Abbey, she’s not where you left her. The spot on the rug that she was previously occupying is empty and her book is abandoned on the floor.

“Abbey?!” Calling a little too loudly for the setting you’re in but you can’t bring yourself to care. You search row after row, it’s not a big library, and after every shelf you’re expecting her to be there– browsing novels and you’ll feel silly for overreacting.

But that doesn’t happen, and you realize with mild panic that she definitely left the library; somehow without you noticing. You suppose this is the safest place for her to go missing, but the thought doesn’t soothe you for long as you still have no idea where your daughter could be.

Stephanie is staring at you with concern, but still making no effort to help you locate Abbey. You don’t speak and neither does she as you rush out of the room and begin to pace the halls, still calling out for her. You check the bathrooms by the gym, a couple of empty classrooms that aren’t locked– she’s not there either.

When you’ve checked every available room and potential hiding spot in the near vicinity and still see no trace of her, that’s when the real dread sets in. What if she’d wandered outside and been taken? Or worse, there had been an accident and she’s hurt? She could be miles from here by now, she could be–

“I think this might belong to you,” a mellow voice rings out.

Steve and Abbey walk leisurely towards you, hand in hand. A complete contrast to the frazzled mess of anxiety you are right now. You hurl yourself in their direction and wrap Abbey up in a hug, lifting her off her feet.

“Oh my God, Abbey,” normally you’d be fuming at her for wandering off like that when you know that she knows better, but you can’t feel anything other than relief in the moment.

“Found her on the swings,” Steve continues, “Isn’t that right?”

Your relief does eventually morph to frustration, “You know better, Abbey Jane. Don’t stray off like that again. Do you understand?”

She succumbs to her guilt and you can tell her short-lived freedom has lost its novelty. “I’m sorry, mommy,” her little eyes well with tears. “The other kids were going to the swings, I wanted to go,” she pouts.

“We could’ve gone, baby, but you have to ask first, okay?”

Her meek response is muffled in the crook of your neck, “Okay,”

She’s still sniffling into your shoulder when you remember Steve is there, and your surroundings come back into focus.

“Thank you for finding her, Steve–”

“--His name is Mr. Harrington, mom,” she corrects like she can’t believe you’d embarrass her like that by calling her teacher the wrong name.

“--Mr. Harrington,” you stifle a laugh for your daughter's sake, sending him a knowing look.

He returns the expression, “Anytime,” he smiles, sweet . “Think that's enough scaring your mom for today, huh?”

Instead of acknowledging with words, she simply nods her head, eyes glued to the floor, ashamed.

“I think someones getting sleepy, might be time to head home,” you drag a gentle hand down her back soothingly.

“Will you carry me?” she asks too adorably to say no, despite her being ever-so-slightly too big for it. Grunting as you pick her up, you say, “Thanks, again,”

“No need,” he ruffles Abbey’s head lightly as you pass, “See you tomorrow, right?”

“See you,” her eyelids are heavy already. You make your way back to the car slowly but surely, arms growing more numb with every step.

︵୨୧︵

Abbey manages to bargain a bath out of you and four books before bedtime instead of the usual two. How you ever say no to her, you’re not sure. By the time you finally tuck her in, it's well past nine o’clock.

“Did you have a good day today?” You ask as you bend down to kiss her forehead.

“Yes, Mr. Harrington is my favorite teacher,” she proclaims drowsily.

“He’s your only teacher, Ab,” You snicker.

“But he’s still my favorite,” she replies in the same cadence one would say ‘Duh’.

“Well, I guess you’ll have to go to sleep super fast tonight so you can see him sooner, right?”

You can practically see the lightbulb turn on above her head like she’s just had a groundbreaking revelation and nods fervently. You tuck her in tight on both sides, and give her a kiss on each of her cheeks and once more to her forehead for good measure.

“Love you, Abbey girl,” you tell her on your way out, “Goodnight,”

“Goodnight, mommy,” she says wearily from underneath her princess bedsheets.

The door closes with a soft click and you make your way to the living room. You never had the chance to ask Stephanie what she was doing at the school– from what you knew, she didn’t have any children. Perhaps she was a teacher. It didn’t matter as long as you didn’t have to interact with her again.

As you lounged on your old sectional, you couldn't help your mind wandering back to thoughts of Steve. You wanted to know more about him. Where he came from, what made him want to work with kids, why he needed a gerbil to keep him company. Distantly, you imagined what he was like outside of an elementary school setting. You hoped one day you’d find out.

He was Abbey’s teacher, sure, but what was the harm in a little crush?

taglist - @soulxiez

divider credit to @/strangergraphics

[rustedhearts]

i want your things in my room (fratboy!steve harrington x fem!reader)

summary: steve harrington: resident frat boy heartbreaker. handsome, charming, good in bed—what's not to love? if only he loved you. based on this sexy thought of mine

uses she/her pronouns and female anatomy.

✶ rolly’s roller wheels blurbs commissions! ✶ blurbs! ✶ somebody told me (part two)

tags: frat boy!steve, situationship, asshole-ish!steve, pining, kind of feral reader because i was feral writing this, smut.

"i want your things in my room, i miss you all of the time. i stalk myself on the internet just to see what you'll find...you look so cool, I wanna die. is it too soon to say what's on my mind?"

— in my room, julia wolf

for the lovely 🫧

wc: 2,095 (oops)

delta phi. saturday april 12th, 2009

Cords of muscle suffocated under the tight sleeve of a red cutoff—ripped while weight-lifting on the porch, you imagined. Knowing Steve, it was intentionally and meticulously cut in the bathroom mirror for a blurry cellphone image sent to another fling.

You never received texts like that. The only texts you received were late in the evening or at the crest of midnight:

you up?

coming over. unlock the back door.

The one trip-up in this eight month routine came two weekends ago at nine p.m.

coming over, brought you a surprise. want you to wear it saturday.

It was a tight white t-shirt promoting Steve for Delta Phi Senior President. You wore it like he asked, lingering in the basement corner of another Saturday party with a lukewarm beer you wanted to throw up when you saw hordes of other girls wearing the exact same thing.

He didn't even look at you that night.

But he messaged, an hour after you skulked home with a hoodie zipped over his face printed on your left tit.

didn't see you leave. can i swing by later?

He did. And you let him crawl over your naked body under a pink duvet and place his mouth wherever he liked. He didn't apologize, and you swallowed down the sharp sting of tears every time he told you how pretty you were—knowing every girl wearing his face that night received the very same treatment at one point.

You weren't special. You knew that. But he had such a way of making you feel like you were. Catching your eye through passing bodies, lifting his mouth in a sideways grin, wiggling his fingers in a tiny wave when he knew no one was looking. Cupping the back of your head in the checkout line at the coffeeshop when he passed by, because somehow he always knew when you were there. He never said a thing, but he had your heart stuttering every single time.

So, here you were. Another Saturday night in a dark Delta Phi corner, sipping a Twisted Tea and struggling to swallow past the lump of hurt in your throat when Steve's head turned to follow the path of a pretty and petite blonde. Watching his biceps flex under his sleeve, his hips turn in a pair of Levis often rumpled on your floor. You washed them once, when he came and got sick in your bathroom after a particularly intense recruitment night.

Steve lifted a wide hand and swept it through the front of his hair. You could almost smell it, the Old Spice soaked in those chestnut tresses. You used his bathroom on the second floor one time, found the red shampoo bottle resting on the edge of the tub.

And maybe you popped the cap and smelled it, closed your eyes and imagined Steve was right in front of you, pressing his cheek on your chest the way he did post-coital: panting wordlessly, letting you feel the warmth of his flesh clinging to yours, running your fingers through his hair to bring him back down.

Steve's eyes cutting your way yanked you from your warm, gut-wrenching thoughts of him. Over the swell of his own bicep: a pair of hazels fixing on your figure across the room. Your heart lurched to your throat when you locked gazes, fingers twitching to wave. He wouldn't wave back. You knew without a doubt.

But those lips quirked up in acknowledgement, and that was enough. Enough to have heat lapping at your face and coiling in your stomach. Enough to know he'd message after the party, when most of the crowd dispersed and his buddies wandered off to bed. Enough to know you'd feel his breath on your face tonight, feel his mouth over your body.

That was more than enough.

✶ ✶

You waited.

Waited—fully dressed on your bed, lamp clicked on in the darkness of the night—with the skin of your thumb between your teeth. Gnawing between glances at your phone, waiting for it to buzz with his name. The deeper the night grew, the hungrier you became. Hungry for his tongue sliding around your mouth, his fingers digging into your ribs with every pull back against his body. His palm cupped around your throat the way it often did when he took you from behind, keeping you braced against his chest so he could feel you struggle to catch your breath.

You waited. You bid your roommate goodnight through a closed door and waited. You peeled your outfit off layer by layer, checked your messages for his name, and waited. You laid back on your bed holding your phone to your faded-t-shirt-clad chest, and waited.

The hunger nestled between your legs, aching and pulsing with soreness. It was terrible how conditioned you were for Steve's attention. How horribly you craved it.

Somehow, his air of coolness made you want it more. When he avoided your eye, when your texts went unanswered, when he brushed by at a party and looped your pinkies together—you wanted him something awful.

But you wanted him most when you had him. When he was running his nose through the sweat on your neck, big hands sweeping over your stomach under the t-shirt he guided over your head. His t-shirt, always asked for in a groggy, early morning exchange before he left. When he was whispering—unwilling to wake your roommates—and promising that you were the only one he'd ever felt this close to.

"Swear nobody's made me feel so fuckin' high before," he'd say. "Love your body, baby, you're so pretty."

Tears squeezed at your lash line, burning as they spilled over. You swiped at them irritatedly, setting your phone on the nightstand and turning away from it.

And then it buzzed.

You flung your hands toward the vibration, snatching the scratched device eagerly.

coming.

missed you.

Falling back against your pillows, you let out a long, blissful sigh. He missed you. That was new.

Your phone buzzed with the long-awaited "here" text, and you had to catch yourself on the stair railing to avoid running toward the door. But the way you swung the door open and tugged him in did little to hide your excitement, and it had Steve grinning wide as you hurried back toward your room.

"Wait," he chuckled, stumbling over his sneakered feet. "Christ, you're quick to the belt tonight."

You clamped your bedroom door shut carefully, spinning around to find Steve toeing his shoes off at the end of your bed. His tongue prodded at the inside of his cheek when he turned to face you again. The smirk on his mouth was delicious.

Suddenly, all that hunger coursing through you fizzled to coyness. But Steve liked when you were shy. He thought it was cute.

"C'mere."

The way he called to you—softly, a sweeter version of his usual tone—always had your nerves tingling.

You stepped in front of him, giggling when he plucked at the faded, stained material of your bed shirt near your chest.

"Sexy 'jamas," he chuckled, swooping down to press your mouths together.

"Thought...you weren't...coming," you mumbled between detachments and quiet, wet smacks.

He said nothing this time, letting his hands drop to your hips to steer you around. He guided you onto the bed, and the pair of you moved like a well-oiled carnival ride until you reached the pillows. Two heavy palms pressed into the feathers on either side of your head, and Steve's mouth continued lapping at yours vigorously.

One thing about Steve was that he was always pleased to incorporate foreplay. He loved the art of kissing, and he knew it well.

Steve pulled away far too early, moving his lips to your cheek. Down your jaw, under the junction where nerves tingled for his attention under your ear. You fisted the thin fabric of his shirt as he dragged his nose across your jaw.

"Did ya miss me, honey?" His voice took on a low gravel that brought your hairs to their ends.

Your eyes fluttered between opened and closed, hips shifting on the bed. Your breath already shallowed.

"Mhm."

"Mhm? Tell me," he cooed, nose rubbing a small circle into your cheek, breath hot on your skin. "Tell me you missed me, pretty girl."

You blinked your eyes open, glazing over the length of his lashes and flecks of honey and emerald in his gaze. You could barely feel your own body, could barely form a sentence on your own.

"I missed you," you whispered dazedly.

Steve moved his eyes down to your stomach as he dragged the t-shirt toward your collarbones. His hand glided over your navel and between your breasts.

"Missed you, too. Take your shirt off f' me, sweetheart."

He knelt at the end of the bed and watched you undress intently, eyes tracing the curves of your body as he pressed to his knees and fumbled with the buckle of his belt. When the pair of you were bare, he returned to his place hovering above you, and you took your chance to roam your hands over his chest. Firm, warm, smooth-skinned. Lifting your back off the bed, you buried your nose in his throat and inhaled deeply. Steve's chuckle rumbled through you, but you couldn't find it in yourself to feel ashamed.

"Smell good," you remarked quietly.

Steve tipped his head away from your face until you settled back into the pillows. He grinned down at you there, hair curling over his forehead and toward his brow.

"Yeah? That's new."

You shook your head, tongue fat and dumb in your mouth. Your fingers traced down his arms bracing your head. "No...always smell good."

A swallow bobbed in his throat. The back of his finger nudged your cheek from the pillow beside you. "Yeah?"

You nodded this time, meeting his eye with what he could only call a lovestruck stare—all rounded and doe-like. "Yeah."

He wished you'd shut your eyes. He wished you'd stop looking at him like he was some sort of saint. He wished you'd stop letting him get away with all the shit he put you through.

Steve was quick to switch gears, pecking a short, painful kiss to your mouth before flipping you by the hips onto your stomach. You gasped at the quick and irritated pull of your hips upward until your ass was arched in the air. He pressed on the dip in your back and you let your stomach drop toward the mattress.

"Good," he sniffed. "Look good like this."

Because he couldn't see your eyes.

And you let him fuck you like that, pummeling so deep that you were buried in the mattress by the time he was done. You didn't cum and he knew it, and the pair of you settled flat with quiet gasps. He didn't press his cheek to your chest this time, didn't tangle your fingers together between sticky bedsheets. He laid there only a few silent moments before reaching for his pants.

"Hey," you called softly, propped up on your elbows. "You're not gonna stay?"

The broad muscles of Steve's back flexed and rolled as he hoisted his jeans over his hips and secured his belt. He pulled his shirt on without turning around, feet shoved into his sneakers before you could even sit all the way up.

"Nah," he said, turning only as he headed for the door. "Gotta...um, study."

Brows furrowing, a small giggle slipped from your mouth. "Study? You don't study."

Another swallow, noisy and paired with two eyes fixed on the floor. His voice neared a whisper when he spoke again. "Trying something new."

You watched him open the door just enough for him to fit through. You hugged your soiled sheets around your bare body and felt the hunger dim to hurt again.

Steve stepped into the doorway and turned his head an inch, but not enough to see those pretty features again. "Later."

You wanted him to miss you again. You wanted to press your nose back into his neck and breathe him in. You wanted him to bring his words down low where they belonged when he spoke to you. You wanted to be his girl for a few moments more, to feel his affection through every drag of his mouth and hands.

But the door closed, and you were left to watch him jog across the street through a sliver in the drapes instead.

Just another t-shirt. Just another girl in love with Steve Harrington.

[fairyysoup]

i can see you

♫︎ i can see you - taylor swift ♫︎

pairing(s): steve harrington x fem!reader

summary: The secret history of your long and arduous relationship with Steve Harrington.

aka: the 5 times you pined over each other, and the time you actually did something about it

words: 17.6k (we're NOT gonna talk about it lol)

cw: explicit, smut, piv sex, flirting, making out, heavy petting, slight exhibitionism, oral (f receiving), fingering, marking, biting, steve harrington has a big dick, themes of infidelity/cheating (sort of), skipping out on dates, bad dates, steve steal-your-girl harrington, almost-kisses, jealous!steve, jealous!reader, possessive behavior, smoking, alcohol consumption, allusions to marriage but it's never actually mentioned, canon compliant, reader and steve are the same age, 5+1 things, songfic, angst, fluff, humor, hurt/comfort, pining, mutual crush, slow burn one shot, mild twist ending, begins in season two (1984) and ends in the 90s, high school, scoops ahoy era, family video era, waiter!steve, steve harrington (the eras tour), vignette, one instance of billy hargrove slander, original characters created for plot, inspired by i can see you by taylor swift, other taylor song inspo throughout bc i'm insane like miss swift

a/n: hi and welcome to ✨rose's mental breakdown✨ yes this song will be my number one on spotify wrapped bc i listened to it on a loop for five days straight while writing this. idk. anyways this is So Much and i'm tired of looking at it so if there are any mistakes i apologize. anyways whoever can point out the most taylor song references aside from the obvious titular one gets a doubloon

ALL OF MY WORKS ARE 18+ MINORS DNI

You brush past me in the hallway, and you don’t think I can see you, do you? I’ve been watchin’ you for ages, and I spend my time trying not to feel it…

Hawkins High, September 1984

He’s so pretty sometimes that it’s disgusting.

That’s really the only thing you think when you watch Steve Harrington sneak up on his girlfriend, Nancy Wheeler, and swoop her off the ground in front of her locker. From across the hall, your locker hangs open, your body turned halfway toward them so that you can pretend that you’re not staring.

You stare a lot.

It’s not exactly the hair, you think- everyone shits a brick about his hair, for some reason that you don’t understand. Yeah, it’s nice… but you like everything else about him, too. You like how sweet he looks when he laughs. You like the way that he holds himself and the way that he looks when he puts his hands on his hips and stands around like he’s directing the traffic around him. You like how much of a prince charming he is, really. It would surprise you if he doesn’t win prom king at the end of the year. They already call him King Steve, it’s not too far of a stretch.

You close your locker just as Steve kisses Nancy, in front of god and everybody in the C Corridor hallway. Steve’s arms wrap around Nancy’s petite frame and he dips her, like they’re in some sort of George Peck and Audrey Hepburn movie. Not that the place is much of a cinematic setting, though. Down the hall, the science rooms are doing their dissection units, so the whole place smells like formaldehyde and disinfectant, and you sort of feel like curling up into one of those dissection pans and dying, yourself. 

That should be me, your brain screams. Me!!

It’s always been like this. You’ve had a crush on Steve since freshman year- the fact that he’s dating Nancy, who’s a year younger than him, doesn’t escape your jealous mind. You’ve been in classes with him for four years, you’ve admired him quietly, you’ve hoped and prayed that he somehow noticed you noticing him.

You don’t think he knows you exist. Four years- and now you’re both seniors, about to graduate, and he still doesn’t notice you. You should really stop caring, or stop trying, or stop… pining. Or something. 

You hike your bag up onto your shoulder and juggle your books in your arms. The bell rings, and quite suddenly the entire hallway erupts into pandemonium (predictable, sure, considering everyone loiters around instead of actually getting to class on time). Kids fly around you in all directions to get to their next classroom. Nancy Wheeler ducks away from Steve Harrington, avoiding yet another kiss.

God, you wish you could kiss him.

Someone slams into your shoulder from behind, muscling past you to get to science lab 5, rat central. Your binder slips out of the stack of books in your arms and clatters loudly to the ground, just as someone walks past and kicks it across the floor.

“Fuck,” you spit, chasing after it. The back of your neck feels hot. For the first time in four years, you hope to god that Steve Harrington doesn’t notice you. 

You duck around people’s legs, trying to grab at your binder, while not trying to drop any more of the books in your arms. Loose papers are starting to fall out of the binder as it skitters across the floor, and this is becoming more and more of a comedy of errors by the minute.

Your fingers just brush the corner of it before someone kicks it again. 

“Do you mind?” you snap as they walk away, not even looking in your direction. Crouched close to the floor, you don’t matter. Maybe you could count that as a blessing, considering you don’t want to be perceived right now.

You finally just throw away all dignity and crawl across the tile floor- disgusting and dirty and covered in sandy grit, as though it hasn’t been cleaned all year- to get to your binder. 

And you come face to face with a pair of white Nike’s. Ones that you know way too well, because you’ve stared at them every time they’ve passed you in the hallway. 

Nonononono- You clench your jaw and then look up, way up, to find Steve Harrington towering over you. 

He looks like he was about to just step around you, but then he notices you gazing up at him from all fours, and his hazel eyes lock on yours. You blink at each other for a second before he flushes, a pink blush breaking out on his cheeks and crawling up his neck, and he looks away quickly, but crouches down to grab your binder before your hand can land on it. 

“Sorry,” Steve says quietly, gathering up the couple papers that had started to slide out of the folders inside. You sit back on your heels, your blood rushing in your ears, mortified. His big hands gently poke the papers back into the folder as they should be before he hands it to you. “Looks like you’re gonna be late to class.”

You scoff. “Look who’s talking.”

Steve’s eyes find yours again, and he’s finally so close to you that you can admire the little bit of green in them. You’ve never been close enough to notice before.

He cracks a lopsided smile, one that he uses to charm people, you know- you’ve seen him use it on teachers and cute girls alike. “I’m always late to the party. But I get there, eventually.”

“I hope so.” He cocks his head at you. He doesn’t know the real meaning to your words- or, at least, you don’t think he does. 

I hope you don’t stay oblivious forever, Steve Harrington. I hope you get there, eventually.

You take your binder from him, but you pull your eyes away from his a bit later than you properly should. “Thanks, Steve.”

You get up and take off toward your next class, walking quickly so that you don’t come off like you’re lingering too long. But, halfway down the hall, you look over your shoulder at him.

Steve hasn’t moved, still crouched down close to the floor, with his head bent like he’s deep in thought. With his back to you, you can still see the pink flush on the back of his neck, peeking out above his collared shirt.

‘Cause I can see you, waiting down the hall from me, and I can see you up against the wall with me. What would you do? Baby, if you only knew that I can see you…

Hawkins High, April 1985

Prom season sucks. Always has, and always will. 

Maybe it was your fault for hoping that Logan Sawyer, popular prick extraordinaire, was serious about wanting to take you to prom. He seemed serious enough, stopping by your locker during passing period and leaning over you as he asked you, his mega-watt smile making you blush. You’d counted yourself lucky- you didn’t think anyone was going to ask you, and people aren’t allowed to go to prom stag.

It took Logan two weeks to find a prettier girl to go with, though. You don’t know why it hurts so much. Maybe it’s because you wanted to believe that you were someone’s first choice, but it never quite seems to turn out that way.

You wipe your tears in the mirror, scowling at your puffy, bloodshot eyes. The bathroom next to the girls’ locker room in the sports wing is completely deserted at this time- the boys’ gym class is in session now, and you’re cutting into your lunch time, but you really don’t want to have to go and cry at a lunch table, in front of a bunch of your bitchy peers, who will inevitably make fun of you for it.

Sniffling, but slightly more composed, you head out of the bathroom. The sports wing is ridiculously bigger than any other wing of the school (typical of American public schools, to prioritize sports over every other department). The wing boasts weight training rooms, dance rooms, three separate gymnasiums, and a door directly to the football field, with the locker rooms on the farthest end to allow for easy access to the field. Connecting all of these rooms is the longest corridor in the building, which seems to run for half a fucking mile.

You’ll have to walk that half mile, because in order to get to the cafeteria, you’re gonna have to traverse the entire building. You might not get to eat much today, but it was a sacrifice you were willing to make. Maybe Mrs. Marshall will be kind enough to let you snack on a granola bar in your next class period.

Halfway down the long hallway, you feel the angry sting of tears behind your eyes again, and your face screws up in frustration. You stop, turning halfway back toward the girls’ bathroom, wondering if you should just go back in and allow yourself to cry some more.

Suck it up, you think to yourself, smacking at your tear stained cheeks. He’s not the guy you really want to ask you to prom, anyways.

You press your fingertips into your eyes to relieve the sting of tears, taking a deep breath. Being in high school is driving you crazy. At this point in the year, the teachers have given up teaching, the students have given up learning, and you’re basically just biding your time in a glorified babysitting service until you can inevitably grab your diploma and get out of here. You can’t wait for that time to arrive. 

A door opens further down the hallway, in the direction of the cafeteria. You wipe your nose once and keep moving in the direction you were going, not wanting to draw attention to yourself, standing in the middle of the hallway having a breakdown.

Moving forwards, you keep your eyes on the ground. Once you hear the door that had been opened slam shut again, you figure that whoever it was has moved on down the hallway, and you lift your eyes again. 

They have not, in fact, moved on. And you suddenly have the urge to turn and fucking run back into the girls’ bathroom, because Steve Harrington is bent over at the drinking fountain, directly outside the boys’ weight room.

What the fuck, what the fuck. You suck on your teeth, trying not to falter in your stride. Maybe he hasn’t seen you, and you can just pass him up. It’s fine, he hasn’t seen you crying. 

Your mind backtracks to the beginning of the year, you fumbling your binder all the way across the hallway and ending up right in front of him, crawling toward him. Looking up at him and probably, most definitely, making him really uncomfortable.

You have English class together, where you sit at the desk closest to the door. He comes in late almost every day, so he passes by you every time. Some days he looks at your desk. On good days, he meets your eye. But he hasn’t spoken to you since that day in September, and you really shouldn’t hold out hope that he will. 

You definitely don’t want him to notice you when you’ve been crying, your face is a mess, your hair is limp and you look bedraggled. You just want to fade into the background of your next class with whatever snack you can get from the cafeteria snuck into your bag, so you can stress eat it without any guff from a teacher (like you aren’t 18 and capable of deciding when you are and aren’t allowed to eat).

You keep your eyes down. If you don’t look at him, he doesn’t exist.

Except, Steve Harrington always exists, in the back of your mind, and in your periphery. He is impossible not to notice, as per usual. He really just draws the eye like a magnet. Try as you might, your eyes keep flicking up to take stock of him. 

He’s wearing a uniform gray P.E. shirt and gym shorts that don’t leave a lot to the imagination, and you fixate on his thighs more than you should. He has sweat dripping down his neck, wetting his hair on the sides of his face and the seam of his shirt. It shouldn’t be attractive. He shouldn’t be attractive. With his face a mess. And his hair limp, and looking bedraggled. Truly, you make a priceless pair, being the only two people in the hallway.

We’re perfect for each other, a voice says in your head. And you manage, for the first time in an hour, to crack a smile down at your shoes.

He finishes getting his drink at the fountain, and you figure that he’ll just go back into the weight room and not see you. But, of course, luck is not on your side.

Steve Harrington looks at you. And you look away, quickly, acting like you hadn’t been staring at him. And in your periphery, again, you see him stretch his arms over his head, and then turn and lean against the cinderblock wall beside the door to the weight room, with his hands on his knees as though he’s catching his breath.

You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.

He does it so casually, and with the way he’s sweating and his face is flushed, you’re sure that he probably does just want to take a break before going in and lifting more weights. But something in the back of your mind says that the maneuver was too purposeful, immediately after he laid eyes on you. 

It could just be wishful thinking on your part. You heard through the grapevine that Steve and Nancy Wheeler broke up in a nasty way just before winter break, and it doesn’t seem like he’s been interested in anyone since. He hasn’t dated anyone, hasn’t flirted with any girls or showed up at any parties. Nancy must have really broken his heart.

You know too well what that feels like, right now.

Nearing where he leans against the wall, you keep your head down and you plan on just passing by without any acknowledgement from him, same as it ever was. If he’s still carrying a torch for Nancy, you’re sure that he doesn’t want anything to do with you. You’ve nearly convinced yourself of it.

But then you hear your name called quietly, and it nearly makes you jump. You look over at him, thinking you’re just hearing things, but you look directly into a pair of hazel eyes again, and you feel yourself rocketing back in time to September.

You didn’t even think he knew your name.

You slow to a stop. It would be rude not to stop, right? “Uh… hi, Steve. You good?”

Steve Harrington looks you up and down, while he leans against the wall and breathes a bit heavily, like he’s out of breath. He peers at you through long eyelashes, looking impossibly inviting despite everything; the setting, your appearances, the way that you feel like dissolving into a puddle right in front of him. “Yeah, great. You?”

He’s scrutinizing your face now. You shrug, since he’s already seen you, and there’s no way to pretend you weren’t crying thirty seconds ago. “I’m fine. Just being dramatic, don’t worry about me.” 

“When people say not to worry about them, it usually means that you should,” Steve muses. He looks coy, like he’s speaking from experience. 

You sigh, stepping forward to get your own drink from the drinking fountain. “Logan Sawyer called off our date for prom.”

“Oh.” Steve pauses for a few seconds, watching as you bend down and take your drink, more silent than he usually is. “I mean… that really sucks. I’m sorry. But… Logan Sawyer?”  

“Yeah.” You wipe your mouth, and then wet the ends of your fingers and use the cool water to rub at your stinging eyes again. When you’re done, you lean up against the wall beside him, letting your back settle into the cinderblock.

“The guy’s a fucking douche.”

“Tell me about it.”

“No, I mean it, I think it’s a good thing you’re not going to prom with him. He’s really shitty to girls.” You look up at Steve, who’s watching you with his arms crossed, with the most serious expression you’ve ever seen him wear. “I mean, the only guy worse than Logan is probably… I dunno…”

“Billy Hargrove?” 

Steve laughs. Actually laughs. You’ve wanted to make him laugh like that for four years. His cheeks turn crimson and he grins down at his shoes, snickering like there’s way more to the joke he’s laughing at than you even know about. “Yeah. Yeah, he’s gotta be the worst.”

You chuckle, albeit with a sadder tone than he has. “Well, I’m not going to prom with either of them. So, I can count my blessings. I guess.”

Steve frowns, and he looks like he’s going to say something else, but you’re already turning away, not wanting to continue the depressing conversation about your lack of dates. Especially not from the one guy who you desperately want to go on a date with.

You get a few steps away before he takes a step after you, saying, “Wait. You, uh-”

You stop, and look back at him. He looks dumbfounded, his arm outstretched like he was going to try to grab you if you didn’t listen to him. When you frown, he steps back against the wall, bringing his hand up to run through his hair. 

Oh . That’s a nervous tick. You know it, because you’ve watched him do it more than once in English, in front of the class during a presentation.

Steve looks down at his shoes, his brow scrunched in thought. He looks like he’s really trying to find the right words to say. In your head, a hopeful part of you imagines what those words could be. ‘Will you go to prom with me?’

Finally, he looks up at you resolutely. “You’ll find someone to take you to prom. I’m sure of it.” He nods a little, like he’s reassuring himself that he said the right thing. 

You can’t help the smile that springs onto your face. It’s incredulous, of course, but he can’t know that. Keep trying, baby. You’ll get there, eventually.

“Thanks, Steve.” It’s the second time you thank him in the course of the year.

But what would you do if I went to touch you now? What would you do if they never found us out? What would you do if we never made a sound?

Prom Night, May 1985

The dress you’re wearing is sleek and a lot simpler than some of the more popular styles on the dance floor, but you like it more than you care to admit. You’d just grabbed it off the rack at Macy’s, and beyond that you didn’t want to go all-out for prom. It turns out that your lab partner, Gavin Connelly, needed a date, too. So, you’re here with him, because you knew that if you missed prom, you would probably regret it.

Except, well.

Gavin, stoned out of his fucking mind, is sitting at one of the tables, nursing a cup of punch, looking like he’s two seconds from falling asleep. You’ve taken to making the rounds and saying hi to anyone you can call a ‘friend,’ because you’re tired of just loitering next to him. Something tells you he didn’t want to even be here.

The speakers are playing ‘Total Eclipse of the Heart,’ and couples are swaying on the dance floor in a Bonnie Tyler-induced haze. At a loss for people to bother, you wander back over to your date to find his head plastered to the white table cloth. 

You glance to the guy sitting next to him, a kid with glasses who you don’t recognize but who seems to know your date, because he’s just patting Gavin’s back. “Is he okay?”

“Oh, no, he’s dying.” The kid shoots you a sarcastic smile. 

You nod, pressing your tongue hard to the roof of your mouth. “Well, if he wakes up, tell him I’m getting some air.”

Fuck this. Fuck prom. Fuck high school boys.

Your heels, which are killing your feet already, click loudly on the tile hallway floor as you exit the gym. The table where you can check your bag and coat are located at the other end of the hall, where everyone is supposed to enter through the door to the football field.

You can hear voices from the far end of the hall, and Bonnie Tyler’s voice fading out the further you get from the gym. You might never be able to hear that song again without thinking of your ruined slow dance opportunity.

As you pass by, someone coughs off to the left and you turn your head to see Steve Harrington, black tie and all, loitering in the shadows. You stop a few feet from him and squint into the dark.

You can’t believe it. He always seems to show up at the worst times. “What are you doing, skulking around?” 

“I’m not sulking.”

You snort, stepping into the shadows with him. “No, skulk- like, sneaking around?” 

“Well, I didn’t mean to sneak-” he looks over his shoulder at the gym entrance. “I’m just getting some air.”

“Funny,” you murmur. “I was just about to do the same thing.”

He eyes you, a lot like he did a few weeks ago in this same hallway, further up toward the other end of it. He takes in your hair, styled painstakingly to ‘perfection,’ or as close as you could approximate it, and your off-the-rack department store dress. You suddenly feel like you aren’t as pretty as you thought you were at the beginning of the night. 

But then he meets your eye, and all those insecurities fade into the back of your mind. He’s smiling at you, and that can only be a good thing.

“So, uh…” Steve leans back against the wall, his hands in his pockets, “You found someone to take you?”

You press your lips into a tight line. You don’t really want to think about your date right now, but- “Gavin Connelly.”

“Who?”

You laugh, kicking the heel of your shoe against the ground with a soft clack. “Yeah. God, I wish I didn’t know him right now.”

“Why, what’d he do?” Steve sounds perturbed. You look up to find him scowling already.

“Oh, he just ate a pot brownie before he picked me up and passed out at one of the tables.” You finish with a tired giggle, shrugging at Steve as he peers at you with an annoyed expression. “Who did you bring?”

“Kelly Palmer.” 

You know Kelly. She doesn’t say much, but she’s gotten a scholarship to a big art school. “Do you like her?”

“Yeah, she’s nice,” he says mildly. Unconvincingly.

You can understand the subtext. She’s not Nancy. When you look at his face, he seems tortured in the low light coming from down the hall.

“Guess I’m oh-for-two,” Steve adds after a pause. “Last year’s prom, Nance and I didn’t have such a good time, either.”

You nod. It seems like there’s more he wants to say, but he doesn’t. “I’m sorry,” you offer. You don’t know the ins-and-outs of Steve and Nancy’s relationship, aside from watching them suck face in the hallway five paces from you for a year and a half. “Prom sucks. High school sucks. These can’t be the best years of our lives, trust me.”

“Yeah, I hope not.” 

“I just can’t wait to get out of here, you know,” you grumble, allowing your sour mood to come out a little more than normal. It seems like Steve is just really good at getting you to let your guard down. “I’m planning to go to Chicago for college. This is all just… you know, it’s just the starting point. What about you, any big plans?”

“Dunno. I didn’t get accepted to any schools, so I’ll just be getting a job here in town until something better comes along.” Steve shifts, his heel hitting the wall behind him. He looks disappointed when he says, “I think I made too many mistakes.” 

You frown, chewing on your lip. “What do you mean?”

He gives you a heavy look, like he’s gearing up to say something important, something game changing- and then his gaze softens. 

“You’ve got an eyelash.” He gestures to his own eye, like it’ll make you understand exactly where the loose one is on your face.

“Oh.” You falter, lifting your manicured hands and wiping at your undereyes. “Did I get it?”

“No, uh- here, I can-” Steve tentatively reaches forward, and you step toward him to let him touch your face. 

Steve Harrington is touching your face.  

His fingertip brushes your cheekbone, so featherlight you would barely feel it if you weren’t hyper aware of everything that he said or did. His touch glides across your cheek and toward your temple, and then he seems to keep it there, his hand hovering just over your skin.

Reflexively, your hand comes up to rest on his shoulder. You’re inches from Steve’s face, your eyes falling to his lips.

You could kiss him. You could live your fantasy, right now.

Steve’s gaze lingers on your face for a moment, and then he says, “You’re so beautiful.”

Your heart lurches in your chest. He doesn’t say that you look beautiful. He doesn’t say it conditionally, like it’s just for tonight. You are beautiful. Even when you’re crawling on all fours after your binder. Even when you’re crying, and your hair is limp, and you look bedraggled.

“Steve…” you whisper, inching closer to him. 

“STEVE??!”

You jump away from him like he’s burned you, and peek around the hall corner to see Kelly Palmer standing outside the gym looking up and down the hall, searching for him. She looks lost, and sad, like he must have ditched.

She looks an awful lot like you just did, coming out of that gym.

You feel Steve’s hand where it had fallen to your wrist, dragging your attention gently back to him. You take his hand and squeeze it once, giving him a tight smile. 

“You brought her here for a good time,” you say with your bravest smile. “Just don’t pass out at one of the tables on her, okay?”

Don’t be a douche. Don’t be like Logan Sawyer. 

Steve swallows, and gives you a short nod. You think he finally got there.

You give a soft pat to the lapel of his suit jacket. “Go get ‘em, tiger.” 

He touches your arm one final time before he slips around the corner, just as Kelly turns to go back into the gym. You watch him walk away, and you think to yourself, That’s the last time I chase after Steve Harrington.

Wherever there is, it’s not with you.

Steve loops his arms around Kelly’s waist and lifts her, earning a thrilled squeal as the silver taffeta of her dress glints blue in the light from the gym. You wait until they’ve disappeared back into it before you turn and high-tail it toward the coat check table.

And we kept everything professional, but something’s changed, it’s something I like. They keep watchful eyes on us, so it’s best if we move fast and keep quiet…

Starcourt Mall, June 1985

“Come on, it’s ridiculously hot outside,” your best friend, Shelly, groans as she pulls you along by the wrist. “I can’t believe they only have one ice cream place here.”

“I’m sure they have slushies at the-”

“Ice. Cream.” You know better than to argue with her.

Scoops Ahoy has a novelty nautical theme that makes you want to both laugh and break down in tears when you see it. The PA is playing a cutesy rendition of Drunken Sailor on accordion, and you think that if you keep looking at the striped wallpaper behind the counter, you might get literally seasick. In the mall. In landlocked Indiana. 

Or… is it landlocked if it fronts Lake Michigan? It doesn’t matter. You’ll be in Chicago in two days, anyways.

You let Shelly drag you along until you look towards the front counter, and you see something that nearly makes you trip and face plant into Shelly’s fresh perm.

Even Shelly pauses. “Is that who I think it is?”

It’s something about the stupid little sailor’s cap and shorts, and that he’s so, so pretty in it, you think. It’s also something about how you have the perfect vantage point to watch him try and fail to flirt with the girl that approaches the counter to order. You’re enamored with him. There’s no other way to describe it. 

You have half a mind to run away, after what you promised yourself on prom night over a month ago. You’d done good, you didn’t search for him in the halls, you ignored him in your last couple of class periods with him. You’d even been in the bathroom when his name was called at graduation. 

But, here he is. Steve Harrington, absolutely obliterating his chances of getting a date with the girl ordering a sundae ahead of you. 

Honestly, you don’t know what you’re waiting for. Maybe an invitation? A sign from god that today’s the day that you’ll make a move? Or maybe this is just a test of will.

You stop resisting Shelly’s attempts to drag you along, and straighten your spine. You can do this. Four years’ worth of pining won’t make a difference in whether or not you order a strawberry ice cream cone.

He’s even prettier up close, his rosy cheeks framed by sunkissed, wavy hair. When he sees you he stalls, going a bit wide-eyed and then seeming to realize he’s supposed to do his job. He leans heavily against the counter. “Ahoy, ladies! Would you like to set sail on this ocean of flavor with me? I’ll be your captain, Steve Harrington.”

“Uh-huh.” You stare at each other for a long moment. “How much do they pay you to recite that script?”

“Absolutely nothing, I do this for pure enjoyment.” You’re almost sure that he doesn’t. He pauses, a hand poised on his hip. “Too much?”

“I’d dial it back just a smidge. Maybe keep the ahoy and the captain thing and toss the rest.” 

“Noted.” He nods slowly, his eyes fixed on you. “I thought you were going to Chicago?”

“I leave the day after tomorrow,” you shrug. “Still time for me to burn the place down, you know.”

“Well, I’m glad you stopped by,” Steve chuckles. “I could show you where the gas line is, then we’d all be in trouble.”

“Oookay.” Shelly gives you a curious side-eye, and then turns back to Steve. “Well, I’ll have a U.S.S. Butterscotch with a chocolate dipped waffle bowl, if you don’t mind.”

Steve tears his eyes away from you long enough to grin at Shelly. “Coming right up. And for you?”

You freeze, glancing up at the menu. It’s written in an infuriatingly cutesy code-language that you have to decipher. “Um. I’m still deciding.”

“All right, then. Just let me know, when you’re ready.” 

Steve slips away to make Shelly her sundae, a heaping pile of ice cream and butterscotch syrup that looks like the fast track to a heart attack. You alternate between trying to comprehend the menu and being distracted by Steve in that stupid sailor’s uniform.

The script on the menu may as well be written in a foreign language. Blackbeard’s Delight. Treasure Island Turtle. U.S.S. Sherbet. The sizes are even harder to understand. Fathom. League. Nautical Mile. You don’t have the capacity to decipher it- your eyes are seeing the words, but your mind is traveling back to prom night, and feeling Steve’s finger on your cheek as you gear up to kiss him.

“Are you ready?”

“Mhm…” It takes you a second to zone back into the present moment, where Steve is standing in front of you, on the other side of the counter, waiting to take your order. He waits, with a patient smile on his face, while you blink dumbly at him.

What did you say? What did he say?

“I… um.” You’re sure you look completely out of it. Your eyes flick nervously up at the menu, that you still can’t fucking read. Shelly’s already gone to sit down with her sundae, the traitor.

“It’s kind of hard to understand, isn’t it?” Steve says quietly after a moment, dropping the phony customer service charade. “I hate it. I think we should just be able to say what our favorite ice cream flavor is and be done with it.”

“Yeah,” you murmur, still squinting up at the menu. Blackbeard’s Delight: blackberry swirl with blueberry syrup and a gold doubloon. “The fuck is a doubloon?”

Steve snorts, and reaches under the counter before bringing back a handful of gold foil-covered chocolate coins, which he dumps into your outstretched hand. “You want more? We get them wholesale.”

“I’m good,” you giggle, juggling the chocolate coins before they go cascading to the floor. “I think… I don’t… I don’t understand a thing on that menu.”

“What’s your favorite flavor of ice cream?” He leans forward to ask you, like it's a secret. Just between the two of you. His head bent a little to peer at you closely, so close that you can count the freckles on his skin.

You glance over your shoulder. Shelly is seated by the far wall, under a painting of a kraken, giving you an indignant look. When she notices you looking, she mouths an emphatic, ‘LET’S GO!’

“Don’t tell anyone,” you whisper, and Steve affects his gravest expression as he nods. “Strawberry.” 

“A classic,” he grins. “Fan of sprinkles?” 

“I can dig a few sprinkles.”

“Perfect. I think we have something up your alley.” He grabs a scooper out of the bin and twirls it once, just to show off. “Sex on the Beach.” 

“What?” You don’t remember seeing anything about that on the menu.

He glances up to smirk at you before shrugging. “It’s strawberry ice cream with peach syrup. You’ll see.”

You keep an eye on his hands behind the glass partition, watching them put two scoops of strawberry into a medium sized carton. Completely unable to rein in your thoughts before they get away from you, you’re thinking about how good they would feel under your shirt. You follow a treasure map of freckles trailing up his arms, disappearing under the blue sailor’s shirt he wears. You want to kiss every single one of them.

You finally reply, “I guess I have to put my faith in your professional ice cream slinging abilities.” 

“Oh, haven’t you heard?” Steve mutters sardonically as he squirts peach syrup across the two scoops of ice cream, giving it a golden sheen. “I’m the king of cream.”

You purse your lips as it takes Steve a second to realize what he just said. When he does, he snaps his head up to meet your eye in horror. 

He opens his mouth to take it back, but you shake your head, holding back laughter. “Don’t ruin it.”

“I think it’s pretty much ruined already.” He turns crimson, blushing down at the half-made sundae as he rapidly shakes yellow sprinkles onto it. “I was doing so good, too.”

“Who says you aren’t still?” You give him a cute smile when he looks up through his lashes at you, still arranging toppings on the sundae. You’re not sure what happened between prom and now to change him so much, but it’s almost as if he’s… goofy. He’s less concerned with appearances, he’s more laid back and willing to make fun of himself. 

You like it a lot. 

You watch him plop two maraschinos onto one ice cream mound, and wedge a candied orange slice into the other, inverted, to look like a setting sun. As he passes it over the counter to you, he says, “Here you go, one Sex on the Beach. On the house.”

“What? No, I couldn’t-”

“I mean it. For overlooking my stupidity,” Steve insists. He gives you a meaningful look when he adds, “A million times over.”

“I’m not overlooking anything when it comes to you, Steve,” you tell him fondly, and drop one of the doubloons into the tip jar. It’s gaudy, gleaming artificially gold in the middle of the crumpled up dollar bills. “Hang onto that. You might be able to cash it in for a kiss someday.”

Steve blinks rapidly, leaning across the counter as you walk away. “After you come back from Chicago, right?”

You look over your shoulder, and you wink at him.

When you finally stop in front of Shelly, and you use your plastic spoon to dig into the adorable sundae that Steve crafted for you, you remember that you’d gone up to the counter with every intention of ignoring Steve and acting like you didn’t even know him.

You winked at Steve Harrington. You said you’d kiss him. You think back to the girl who was so afraid of Steve even noticing her, almost a year ago, and wonder where she went.

You look down at Shelly. She’d graduated a year before you, so she wasn’t there to witness every blunderous interaction you’d had with Steve in school. You never told her how in love you were with him.

Now, she looks up at you coyly. “So. Steve Harrington, huh?”

“Shut up,” you grunt, looking up and out at the food court outside of the Scoops Ahoy storefront. “As if you know everything.”

“Are you gonna try to make something out of that…” she gestures vaguely with her spoon toward the counter, “before school starts?” 

“I don’t think it’s a good idea,” you say honestly, still poking at your sundae. “Anyways, I leave too soon for anything to really happen. What- I screw him tomorrow and then fuck off forever? It’s just wishful thinking, probably.” You finally take a bite of the ice cream, just to punctuate your sentence.

“Hm. Probably. How is that?” Shelly nods at the ice cream in your hand. “Looks pretty.”

“It’s the best thing I’ve ever tasted.” You’re being honest. Something about the peach syrup with the strawberry base literally evokes the flavor of a sunset. “They should give him a raise.”

Humming, Shelly stands and takes her half-eaten sundae. She nudges you in the direction of the door. “C’mon. We’ve gotta eat these before the next showing of The Breakfast Club.”

Steve watches you and your friend leave, with the wistful gaze of someone who just watched their greatest opportunity walk away from them. He never knew that it was possible to hate an entire geographic location, but he really wishes Chicago would get blown off the map in the next 24 hours. 

The wooden partition doors slam open, and Robin’s head appears in the window to the kitchen. “The cream king? Do you want me to actually hurl?”

“I said, ‘the king of cream,’” he groans, digging his knuckles into his eye sockets. “Kill me, Robin. Load me into the freezer. Bury me at the fairground.”

“You think you’re valuable enough to displace that much ice cream?” Robin rolls her eyes, and with another loud thwack, her white board appears in the space behind her. “We don’t make anything called Sex on the Beach. This is a family establishment.”

“I made it up.” 

Robin coos, “Aww. Be still my heart. You love her to the point of invention.” 

Steve whirls around. “Love? Who said anything about love?” 

“I did.” Robin uncaps her dry-erase marker and draws a tally mark under the side that reads, you rule.

“Uh, Robin,” Steve snaps, pointing at the board condescendingly. “I think you put that on the wrong side. I fucked it up.”

“Dingus. Please. As much as it makes me gag- and you know I gain immense pleasure from counting how often you screw up- I could practically hear her heart eyes.” She sets the white board down, begrudgingly. “I think you found the only girl alive who’ll find all this-” she waves her hand at him, “endearing. Who was she? Some ex of yours?” 

“If only,” Steve sighs, shaking his head. When he turns back to the counter, his eyes land on the single chocolate coin glinting in the tip jar.

He scoops it up with two fingers and pockets it.

You won’t believe half the things I see inside my head. Wait ‘til you see half the things that haven’t happened yet…

Family Video, March 1986

The air conditioning nearly blasts you backwards into the parking lot. You don’t know why they need it blasting so hard at 7pm, in the middle of March. It’s not like it’s the height of summer- your spring break takes place earlier than the local school’s, but it just means that you get to beat the crowds when you come home to visit your family.

Of course, they love to send you to run errands. You end up picking up the groceries, and the housewares, and, on this occasion, the choices for family movie night. 

This Family Video’s selection isn’t necessarily as extensive as the ones in Chicago, but it’s good enough. You enter the store, and it dumps you directly in front of a cardboard cutout of Phoebe Cates about to flash you. Family friendly entertainment, and all.

The TV in the corner is running the final scene of The Good, the Bad, and the Ugly- Ennio Morricone’s score plays dramatically into the empty store. There’s no one behind the counter currently, so you pull the list of videos your extended family members had all requested. The Breakfast Club. Camelot. The Birds. Pretty general selections for your family, but it seems like you’ll have to hunt them up on your own. 

You’re wandering down the romance aisle, since The Breakfast Club was nowhere on the new releases or comedy shelves, when someone finally emerges from the back room. You see a flash of a head moving toward the front counter from over the top of a rack, and you take it as your chance to ask for help.

“Excuse me? Do you guys have any copies of The Breakfast Club, or-”

You stop short, choking on your words. Steve Harrington turns around to look at you, carrying a stack of VHS tapes perched under his chin, and holding a folded up piece of paper between his teeth.

You stare each other down for a second, before Steve gracefully spits the paper over his shoulder and onto the counter. “Hey, um… long time, no see?”

“I’d say.” You tilt your head. Funny how quickly your eyes will hone in on his lips, like searching for a target every time. “We always seem to run into each other like this. What happened to the ice cream gig?”

“Starcourt burned down,” Steve says, plopping the stack of VHS tapes down on the counter beside the paper he spit out. “Right around the Fourth of July, last summer.”

“So, right after I last saw you?”

Steve smirks to himself before he turns back to you. “Yeah. Like, a week or so after. Did you manage to burn the place down, after all?” 

“I wish.” 

You pause, taking the time to size him up. It’s amazing what the better part of a year will do to someone, inside and out. With a striped shirt and green vest, he looks much more relaxed and casual than he had at Scoops Ahoy. His hair’s a little longer, his eyes a little darker as they rake over you, in return. 

You’re a little bit desperate to see what’s going on in his head, if it’s anything like what’s happening in yours.

You wish you could say that you tried to seek him out when you got back to town- a year ago, maybe you would have. But you’d pretty much given up on the idea of him, moving up to dating college boys who don’t string you along, who don’t wait until the last minute to finally try their hand at flirting with you. If he ever passed through your mind, it was with the attached hope that he’d found greener pastures than Hawkins, Indiana. Foolishly, you hoped that as long as you told yourself that he’d moved on, it would be true. And then maybe what could have been wouldn’t matter anymore.

You’d stepped back into Hawkins after half a year of college, the graveyard of all hope in your happily ever after, and you hadn’t even thought of Steve Harrington. Except, seeing him now, everything comes flooding back. All the days spent pining over him. All the close brushes you’d had with finally getting the ending you wanted. 

You have to be honest. “You look good, Steve. You always do.”

Steve chuckles, tilting his chin down as he shoves his hands into the pockets of his light wash jeans. “Better without the sailor costume, right?”

“Aww, I liked the sailor costume.” You step closer so you can whisper, “I thought it was sexy.”

Steve peers down his nose at you, drawing himself up to tower above you at his full height. He tries to look unaffected, but you can see his ears glowing pink beneath wisps of golden highlights. “Watch it. You’re gonna give me an ego.”

“We don’t want that, do we?” You unfold the list of movies you’re here to collect, holding it up to him between two fingers. “Got any of these movies?” 

Steve reads the short list, and nods to himself. “I know we have Camelot, but I’m not sure about The Breakfast Club. Let me check in the back?” 

“I’ll be here.”

“All right- don’t get up to any trouble, though. I’ve got my eye on you.” He points at you coolly, feigning an authoritative expression. He tries to hide his smile, but the creases around his eyes give him away. 

“I hope you do.” You try to appear casual as you breeze past him, but you have to fiddle with your jacket collar to hide their shaking. Still, you feel the sweep of his gaze on you like rays of sun on your skin. It frightens you how easily you can fall back into the old back-and-forth routine you established in high school- how he gets you to say things you never meant to voice, but that live in your head effortlessly. 

Steve watches you disappear down the drama aisle before he takes in a huge breath of air and bolts toward the back room. Any and all coolness he was performing disappears like so much smoke. Slamming open the door, he nearly shouts, “Do you have a doubloon?!” 

Robin startles, swinging around in her seat, looking away from her computer screen. “A what? Why are you yelling?”

“A doubloon, a f-fucking-” Steve looks quickly over his shoulder, out the door, and starts hunching over as he whispers, “a chocolate coin. Like one of those ones we had at Scoops, remember?”

“Why do you want a chocolate coin?” Robin squints at him. “Stop crouching like that, you look like Nosferatu.”

Steve hisses through his teeth, and he’s got a frantic edge to his expression that Robin doesn’t like. “Okay- remember that girl, the one who showed up at Scoops that time, and you gave me my one and only ‘You Rule’ tally?” 

“No.”

“Great. Well, she’s here, and she told me if I gave her one of those chocolate coins she’d kiss me.” Steve shoves his hands through his hair, mussing up the already disheveled style. “Please, Rob, I can’t let her get away again. I’ve done it, like, a thousand times already.” 

“Okay, Romeo,” Robin humors him, turning around in her seat. “So you’re saying this babe, who I very much don’t remember because you always struck out while we worked at Scoops, told you that if you bribed her with chocolate she’d kiss you?”

“Yes.”

“And you don’t think she was maybe joking?” 

Steve opens and closes his mouth like a fish out of water. Truthfully, he hadn’t. He’d overlooked the idea that, after everything that had happened between you, you might just be joking about kissing him. 

“You know you could use your actual charm to get a girl to kiss you?” Robin dips her chin, shaking her head like it’s obvious.

Steve frowns. As if he hasn’t already tried that. “Do you have any chocolate coins or not?”

Robin sighs exasperatedly. “I don’t think I’ve seen one of those things since we worked at Scoops. Sorry, bud. You’re out of luck.” 

“FUCK!” Steve’s hand smacks the door as he heads out of the back room, making Robin scowl after him. She shakes her head as she turns back to her work.

Back out on the sales floor, the credits to The Good, the Bad, and the Ugly have finished, and white noise fills the empty space. Steve turns in a circle by the checkout counter, searching for you among the aisles.

Where did you disappear to, this time? A part of him dreads the answer. He was the one who fucked everything up- he shouldn’t have chickened out when he had the chance. He should have asked you to that fucking prom, but he was too scared to commit after what happened with Nancy. 

If this is his last chance, he needs to make it count. 

He coughs into the dead air, and says, “Looks like we’re all out of The Breakfast Club.” There’s a disconcerting amount of silence that leaves him cold, almost certain that you’ve left already, for the last time.

Then, you appear from behind the red curtain to the adult videos section.

Oh.  

“Everything okay?” you ask sweetly as you approach, holding a couple tapes that you must have picked up while you shopped around. “I heard some yelling back there.” 

“Oh, yeah. Just, uh… shelving issues.” Steve backs his way behind the counter. He repeats, “Sorry, I couldn’t find the movie for you.”

“I heard. I’m not worried about it.” You plop the tapes that you did find on the counter. “It was nice of you to look for me. Thanks, Steve.”

“Always.” Steve starts scanning your tapes; it looks like you managed to find the other films on your list, along with one for yourself. From the adult section. 

You watch in amusement as you can see the cogs visibly turning in Steve’s head, while he stares at the front of the porn video you picked. Spring Break Sex Party II. Not that you’d ever seen the first one, but the cover of this one was suggestive enough- a bunch of drunk people naked on a beach, lying in a great big pile. Looks like fun, in your opinion.

You always love seeing Steve blush. The prettiest shade of pink colors his cheeks before he glances up at you. “Should I ask…?”

“It’s the closest thing to getting a Sex on the Beach, here.” 

Steve chokes, and he scrambles for a response to that. “I- I was gonna ask for an I.D.”

“You know we’re the same age,” you deadpan.

“Y-yeah. I, uh- I know… I know that.” He hangs his head and pinches the bridge of his nose, his eyes tightly shut.

You wonder if this is what you looked like to him, that time in the hallway when he loitered by the fountain to talk to you. “Breathe, Steve.”

A blast of laughter leaves his mouth before he can swallow it. If only you knew how hard it actually is, to act like he’s not just fucking melting right in front of you. When he hangs on every word you say, and every other thought he has is about how badly he wants to tell Robin to get lost and take you in the back room. You don’t know how much he’s fixating on your curves and how they’d feel against him, how much he wants to taste every inch of your body. He���s practically vibrating in place with all his pent up frustration, and you’re here buying porn, like it’s the easiest thing in the world.

Steve clears his throat, shakes his head. Christ. “Okay, well. You know that this is a sale item, it’s not for rent. You can return it within 10 days as long as the packaging hasn’t been opened.”

“I know.”

“Okay.” He’s still nodding as he puts it into the bag with the rest of your rentals. 

“Are you always this affected by people buying from the adult section?” you ask mildly. 

“Nah, usually I don’t care,” he replies without thinking. 

“Good to know that you care about my taste in pornography,” you tell him with the most shit eating grin on your face, taking the bag from him. “I’m flattered.”

He makes a clumsy noise in the back of his throat, somewhere between a laugh and a grunt. He’s right back to working at Scoops Ahoy, fumbling every attempt at flirting, losing his cool at the sight of a pretty girl. It’s… humbling.

He’s sure Robin would say that he can always use more humility.

“It was good to see you again, Steve.” And just like that, you’re sand slipping through the cracks in his fingers. 

Desperately, he tries to block the flow, closing his fingers around you in an attempt to keep you in his grasp. “Do you- uh-” He lurches forward, white-knuckling the counter like his life depends on it. You turn back towards him, an eyebrow raised at his sudden outburst. 

You’re back in the school hallway, senior year. Crying over Logan Sawyer. Harrington is up against the wall by the drinking fountain. You want him to just say the words and ask you to prom.

“I mean… if you have the time, while you’re in town… do you want to go for a cup of coffee? With me?”

“Oh, Steve.” You sigh, and it’s the most heartbreaking noise he’s ever heard in his life. Soft sand, falling through his fingers, disappearing back the way you came. He already dreads your answer before it comes. “I wish… you know, if I had come in here and met you about a week ago, I would have said yes in a heartbeat. But I have to catch the train back to Chicago tomorrow. My break’s almost up.” You offer him a reassuring smile. “I’m just glad that you didn’t completely miss me, at least.”

“Right, of course.” Steve smiles back at you, feeling more like an idiot the longer this drags on. He’s like Sisyphus rolling that rock up the fucking hill. “I… I’m glad I got to see you, too. Maybe next time.” 

Oh, it hurts. It hurts way more than you thought it would, to have to turn Steve down- after all the years pining for him through high school, after the time you turned him away when he would have kissed you. You think about kissing him, now. He would let you do it- he’s asking you out, and he looks so sad that you’re saying no.

You could. But wouldn’t it make saying goodbye this time even harder than it already is?

“Yeah. Maybe next time,” you tell him. You don’t want this to hurt more than it does. You truly hope there’s a next time, another year down the line when you run into him over winter break. Maybe you’ll find him at the Radio Shack. 

Steve watches you leave, once again. Fumbling his chance, again. When the door swings shut behind you, Steve bends at the waist and drops his head against the countertop. 

Typical Harrington. Late to the party, miss the girl.

“Well. That was… really painful to listen to.” Robin emerges from behind one of the shelves, crossing her arms. Gently, she adds, “On the bright side, I don’t think the chocolate coin would have mattered.”

Steve picks his head up, and he thwacks his forehead back down onto the counter.

And again.

And again.

And I can see you being my addiction, you can see me as a secret mission. Hide away, and I will start behaving myself…

Sur La Table Restaurant, Chicago, April 1991

You shake your umbrella out as you step into the warm foyer of, quite possibly, the most upscale restaurant you’ve ever set foot in. The carpet is deep, blood red, the walls a dark chestnut wood. The white covered tables are each spotlit within the otherwise dark dining room, and the atmosphere is flavored by soft piano and the quiet din of hushed voices. 

You had been hesitant to accept Theo’s invitation to dinner- he seemed too stuck up for your taste, but when Shelly introduced you to him, you had to admit that the name of the restaurant piqued your interest. Sur La Table. Chicago’s premiere Michelin Star restaurant. 

As you hand your umbrella over to the coat check clerk, you’re greeted by a smiling hostess. “What’s the name for the reservation?”

“Um… Theo Bowman. I believe he’s already here?”

“Yes, ma’am. Right this way.” 

Theo stands as you’re shown to the table. Tall, with dark hair and a wide smile, he reminds you of someone you knew once, but you just can’t seem to place it. Then, when he towers over you to shake your hand, standing far closer than necessary, you’re able to pick it out from the recesses of your mind.

Logan Sawyer.  

“You look nice,” Theo says pleasantly, and you chalk up your initial comparison to nerves, on your part. You don’t often let friends set you up on dates, so you’re a little bit out of your element as it is.

As you go to sit down, you admit, “I was so glad when you picked this place, I’ve always wanted to eat here, since I moved to Chicago.” 

“It’s not the nicest place I’ve been,” Theo shrugs, taking the seat across from you.

Your smile falters, for a second. “Oh, no?” The water has already been brought to the table, you guess while he was waiting for you. You take a long drink.

“Nah, I’ve been to Le Bernardin, in New York. That’s fine dining.” Theo waves his hand at the upscale dining room. “This is… okay.”

“I see.” You lift your menu, hoping that he’ll do the same.

“Yeah, New York is so much nicer than Chicago, in my opinion,” Theo continues, fiddling with his napkin as he talks. “There’s a lot more to do. Have you ever been?”

You hope this is just his nerves talking. “No.” 

Theo keeps talking as you stare at the menu in front of you, at a loss. It’s an a la carte menu, clearly, but extensive and all in french. Salade de poires pochées. Coquilles Saint-Jacques Gratineés. Filet au poivre vert. You’re scrutinizing the fine print of what all the dishes include when your waiter steps up to the table. You know when it happens, because Theo finally stops blathering about New York. 

You break your eyes away from the menu to glance at the server’s waistline, at eye level with you. He wears a crisply pressed suit and tie, his hands clasped in front of his belt. 

“Good evening sir, ma’am,” the server says in a hushed tone, to keep the volume of the dining room down. “Welcome to Sur La Table. I’m Steven, I’ll be serving you this evening. Before we begin, are there any questions about the menu?”

You peer up into the darkness to try to see Steven’s face. He’s standing just outside of the spotlight over the table, only able to be dimly lit from the indirect light reflecting from the tablecloth. Once your eyes adjust, they lock onto a pair of familiar hazel ones.

Oh my fucking god.

It’s got to be fate, or kismet, or some force of nature that keeps bringing you together like this. Steve Harrington’s face hasn’t changed in five years. Maybe he looks just slightly older, a little more filled out in his suit and tie. His hair is a bit shorter at the back but still that same shade of golden brown, neatly groomed and tidy for the formal atmosphere- but you can see it being tousled on his off days, still flopping across his eyes in waves. And those are the same lips you dreamt about kissing, the same eyes you admired in the school hallway, the same nose that you always wanted to grind o-

“No, I think we’re ready to order,” Theo announces, louder than necessary. You throw your gaze at him, your eyebrows raising despite your best efforts to remain calm. 

Is he really going to order for you? Just like that?

“Well, I was going to ask-” you begin, wanting to get a little more specification on how the filet is made, when Theo cuts you off.

“It’s okay, I speak French,” he insists. Not that it makes a difference to what your question was.

You press your lips together in irritation and glance at Steve, who looks back at you stoically. You wonder if he recognizes you like you do him- it’s been long enough, and you’re sure that you look a bit different than you did the last time you saw him. And then you notice the creases around his eyes.

He’s playing it off well enough, sure. But Steve is doing that same look that he did there in the Family Video five years ago, trying to pretend that he’s not affected by you, swallowing back his smile. He sends you a knowing look that says, What a fucking douchebag, am I right?

Suddenly, this date just got way more entertaining. You give Steve a minute roll of your eyes, only enough for him to notice. Tell me about it.

“We’ll start with the Bordeaux,” Theo is already reciting to Steve as you settle back in your seat. Steve pulls a little notepad out of his jacket pocket and begins writing. “For an appetizer, the coquilles. Then for the main, I’ll have the canard montmorency, and she’ll have the mignons de veau.” 

You watch Steve’s hand pause as he’s writing, and he looks to you. He raises his eyebrow, saying everything he needs to with the one gesture. Is that what you really want? “The veal?”

“No,” you say, digging your thumbnail into your palm, where it rests on your lap. “Actually, I wanted to ask about the filet. What brandy is the sauce made with?” 

Steve smiles, leaning a little bit closer to you. “We use Courvoisier.”

“Great. I’ll have that, please.” 

Steve nods encouragingly at you. As he jots down the order, he says, “Wonderful. I’ll get this to the kitchen for you, but before I can bring you the wine, I’ll just need to see the lady’s I.D.”

“Are you serious?” Theo snaps. 

“It’s all right,” you murmur, hiding your face as you dip your head to fish your I.D. out of your clutch. “He’s just doing his job. Right, Steven?”

Steve meets your eye as he takes the card from your hand. “You can never be too careful.” You watch him smirk as he looks over your I.D., his eyes lingering on your name for a second before he hands it back to you. If there was any doubt in his mind that you are who he thought, it’s gone now. “Interesting. We’re the same age.”

You laugh. Probably a little louder than is respectable, but you can’t help it. Leave it to Steve Harrington to remind you of the time you bought porn from him, while you’re on a date. 

You watch Steve write something else on his notepad, and rip the page out before folding it up. He tucks his notepad into his pocket as he says, “I’ll get this started for you. I hope you enjoy your evening.”

“Thank you, Steven,” you offer just as he starts to walk away. 

Steve shoots you a sideways glance. “Always.”

Your heartbeat pounds in your chest as you turn back to your date. Theo looks disgruntled, but he just lifts his water to his lips.

“So,” you begin, “what do you do?”

“Marketing manager,” Theo says, with a click of his tongue. “For Bowman Wine & Spirits.”

“Oh,” you nod. “No relation, I suppose?”

“My father owns the company.”

“Right.” God, help me. 

Across the dining room, Steve watches you over his shoulder. His jaw sets as he sees you, the girl of his literal dreams, sitting across from some idiot who doesn’t even know that you don’t order for your date without asking her what she wants first, you fucking weasel. 

That’s all right. You seem to have the situation under control, for now. Steve watches you calmly sip your water, staring at your date but not listening to a thing he’s saying. 

Steve sighs. He’s never been much of a schemer, but he’ll just make sure that you won’t leave with this guy if you don’t want to.

His fingers brush the note in his pocket, and he pinches it just as he passes the front of house manager, Taryn. Without breaking stride, he slips the note into her hand, heading toward the back hallway and down to the wine cellar.

As Steve passes by, Taryn unfolds the note he slips her, and raises one eyebrow at the request he’s written.

I can see you in your suit and your necktie, pass me a note saying, “Meet me tonight.” Then we kissed and you know I won’t ever tell…

Overall, you enjoy Sur La Table immensely. The restaurant itself, anyways. The wine is wonderful. The atmosphere is great. The food is exquisite. 

You’re about to jump the waiter’s bones. 

Theo got his second wind sometime after the scallops arrived, and you think he hasn’t paused for breath since. You’ve been calmly eating your food, while Theo tells you literally everything about himself. It’s the best case scenario you can see happening on this date. You enjoy the food, mumble a non-committal acknowledgement now and then, and Theo entertains himself with his own voice the rest of the time. 

You’re gonna kill Shelly for setting you up with him, but that’s tomorrow’s problem. 

Right now, you’re focused on finishing your glass of wine while he talks about camping, of all things. 

“So we got up into the Rockies,” he’s telling you, gesturing with his hands like it’ll make you more engaged. “We ended up freezing our keisters off. No joke, I have frostbite scars.”

“That’s, um… that sounds like fun.”

“No, are you listening? I mean, it was terrible. We couldn’t move for, like, two days. And when the snow stopped we were so tired and cold, we almost died.”  

You knock back the rest of your wine with one gulp, and say with a sticky voice, “Wow. A near death experience must have been really scary, I’m sorry.”

Theo frowns. “No- I mean… It wasn’t… it wasn’t near death-”

“You just said-”

“It was more like a serious inconvenience, you know. But we pulled through. I wasn’t scared. A little snow isn’t gonna kill me,” he laughs incredulously. “It was just-”

Theo stops as Steve approaches the table. You catch him giving the back of Theo’s head the most murderous look imaginable before slowing to a stop and plastering an easy customer service smile in its place. “How did you find everything this evening?”

“It was fine.”

“The food was wonderful,” you tell Steve reassuringly. Your date, on the other hand…

“Yeeeah, could we get the check, please?” Theo asks, finally looking up at Steve. 

You watch Steve’s brow twitch, such a small movement you could have imagined it. “Certainly. But first-” from behind his back, he reveals two white gift boxes and places them on the table in front of you and your date, respectively. “We like to give each of our customers a signature chocolate truffle, as a token of our appreciation.”

Everything in you aches. “Oh, that’s nice. Thank you so much.” You look down at the box in adoration, thinking for a second that it might be the only time in your life that Steve Harrington gives you something similar to a ring box. 

“I’ll be sure to have our hostess come through with the check,” Steve adds delicately, making a gracious exit. His finger just slightly brushes your arm as he passes by- a dangerous move, but one that nearly electrifies your entire body at the single touch. You shiver as he says, “Have a lovely night.”

You watch Steve walk away from you, and your heart sinks into your stomach. You want to chase after him. The 18 year old you, who almost kissed him on prom night, is trying to claw its way out of your skin and bolt after him. 

When Steve disappears from view, you have nowhere to look but at your date. Theo opens the white box in front of him and pops a neapolitan colored truffle into his mouth. “Well, that was underwhelming.”

You don’t want to watch him chewing anymore, like a cow gnawing on grass. You sigh, running a frustrated hand across your forehead, and flip open the box in front of you. The top of it rears up like a clam shell, and you freeze, your fingertips suddenly sticking to the sweat beading on your brow.

You don’t have a neapolitan truffle- you have a single golden chocolate coin. You stare at it in shock for a second before you even notice the note pasted to the lid of the box. 

Meet me outside- the door past the bathrooms. 

“Aren’t you gonna eat yours?” Theo asks suddenly, as the hostess approaches holding the check. 

Your eyes snap up just as your heart shoots back up into your chest. “I think I’m gonna save it for later.” You flash him a smile as you close the box swiftly and shove it into your clutch. “Do you mind if I hit the bathroom real quick?”

“No, go ahead. I’ve got it.” Honestly, it’s the kindest thing he’s done for you all night. You might have to thank him some day. 

Once you’re out of your seat, you chase after Steve like a shot. Around a block of tables and into a tiled corridor, you walk past the kitchen doorway just as another server comes backing out, carrying a tray of dishes. 

There’s a door at the end of the hall, labeled exit. You never actually thought you’d be escaping a bad date through the back door; the notion was too clichéed, you thought that sort of thing only happened in movies. But you find yourself nearly running past the men’s and women’s bathrooms, until your hands slam down on the bar of the back door and thrust it open into the wind. 

The rain has picked up, more of a downpour than a light drizzle now. In your haste, you’d left your umbrella and coat with the coat check. Not that it would have been at all discrete if you’d gone to collect it before running towards the bathrooms. 

The door clicks shut behind you, and you gaze around in the dark. The alley behind the restaurant is only partially lit by a yellow street lamp, making it even more difficult to find him than it was in the dining room. “Steve?”  

You catch movement in the corner of your eye, and turn in the direction of the street lamp. Steve stands up from where he’d been sitting on an overturned crate- apparently the only accommodations the restaurant staff gets during a smoke break. The rain has already soaked into his hair, messing up the tidy style and turning it stringy, falling across his forehead, shining gold in the yellow light. He takes one last puff of the cigarette in his mouth before tossing it into the gutter, and he looks at you. 

He sees you. And it’s all you’ve wanted since the day he first walked into your geography class, freshman year of high school. There’s been some kind of a magnetic pull between you two for years. Something keeps bringing you together, it’s just never been the right time. Until now. 

Finally, you’re running towards him, and Steve’s arms finally come around you, pulling you against his body. Your hands find the back of his neck just in time for his lips to crash against yours. 

You had lost count of the amount of times you watched him kiss other girls in the hallway in high school- not just Nancy, but any and every girl he attached himself to (for a while, it seemed like he couldn’t make up his mind who he was dating at any given moment). All you knew was that it was never you, and you wanted it to be so desperately that it consumed your mind half the time. He looked like a good kisser, and you fantasized about going up to him and testing that theory for yourself.

But you never expected that his lips would slide over yours with an urgency that you could feel through to your very core, probably even more desperate for your kiss than you are for his. Steve’s fingertips press into your body through the thin fabric of your dress, holding you firmly to him like he’s afraid you might disappear on him again if he doesn’t absorb you completely. Your mouth opens with a soft gasp, and Steve’s tongue against yours tastes like tobacco. 

It happens so fast that you can’t even think- and you don’t really want to. You’re tired of thinking everything through, finding reasons upon reasons why it’s not a good time, why it’s a bad idea, why it won’t work. He moans into you, grabbing the side of your face as he stumbles with you to the wall, pressing you up against the side of the brick building. 

You meet his moan with a whimper of your own as his hand slides down over the curve of your ass, and he hikes up the skirt of your dress to grab at your skin with abandon. There’s a ferocity in Steve’s kiss that you don’t know what to do with, like he’s trying to stake a claim to you right there in the rain, with no one around to see it happen but the moths in the street light overhead. Not that he needs to- he’s already got you. You already chose him. 

Steve gives you room to breathe with a soft sigh, his forehead resting against yours. “Been wanting to do that since high school,” he admits, just loud enough for you to hear, before pressing a featherlight kiss just beside your mouth, and again to your cheek.

“Y-you fffucking-?” you gasp when he latches his lips around a sweet spot on your neck and sucks. “I had such a huge crush on you, Steve.”

“I know. I- I should have- I should…” Steve drops his head against your shoulder and groans when your nails rake against his scalp. “Fuck.”  

He grinds his hips up against yours, biting your lip as the hard length of his cock presses up against your core. “Gonna fuck me in this alleyway, Harrington?” 

“I’m seriously considering it,” he growls into your ear. His lips find yours again with a passion, his hand holding your jaw still. A hot breath escapes him, pouring over your skin and making you shiver. You’re lightheaded, so close to just letting him do it, too, when the back door of the restaurant swings open. 

Steve still takes a second to pull away, a little too absorbed in kissing you to really care who sees him do it. If he had his way, he’d have everyone see that you’re his- that you belong with him, and have for a long time. He finally glances over his shoulder to see one of the cooks, Liam, walking off in the direction of the employee parking lot.

“Where did you get the fucking doubloon?” you whisper into his ear, sounding so fucking adorable that Steve can’t help the lovesick look he gives you. 

He brushes his nose against yours. “I sent my manager on a treasure hunt.” You giggle, pressing your forehead up against his, and he can’t help but chuckle along with you. “I wanted to give you one at Family Video, that time.”

“I know,” you say, and he pulls back to look at your face. “I heard you yelling at your coworker in the back room.” 

Steve snickers and turns red with embarrassment, hiding his face in the crook of your neck. You run your fingers through his rain-soaked hair, a content smile on your face as you feel him grin against your skin and shake with laughter. “Take me home, Steve.”

You don’t have to ask him twice.

What would you do, baby, if you only knew? That I can see you throw your jacket on the floor, I can see you make me want you even more…

The drive to Steve’s apartment downtown is made with light conversation and the heavy, heavy weight of his hand on your thigh, creeping up further with each mile. But aside from the implication of sex hanging in the air, it’s as easy as breathing, chatting about the night with him. Shitting on Theo.

“Did you notice the way he said coquilles,” Steve murmurs to you at a red light. “I thought he was gagging on something. He was just trying to impress you, you know.”

You grunt. Could’ve tried a little harder. “He didn’t even like them. He said he didn’t like shellfish,” you laugh in return as you lace your fingers through Steve’s. “Why the fuck would you order scallops, then?”

“The price.”

“The price.”  

It’s sweet, talking to him all the way to his apartment building, just catching up like old friends. He tells you that he’s going to culinary school now, and he’s been working at the restaurant for a little over a year, just to pay the bills.

“Culinary school? Really?” you say, with a note of awe in your voice. 

“Turns out I’m really fucking good at cooking,” Steve chuckles. “Who’d have thought? Maybe someday I’ll stop waiting tables and work back there in the kitchen.”

“I can see it,” you tell him softly. “I can see you being the world’s best chef. Three stars and everything.”

He scoffs, but a pink blush creeps up the back of his neck. “You have too much faith in me.” 

“Those are fighting words, Harrington.” You wag your finger at him. “Throwing down the gauntlet?”

“You just want me to cook you something,” Steve tuts.

“Absolutely, I do.” You consider him for a moment, in the passing light of a streetlamp. “Am I that transparent?”

Steve tilts his head to eye you meaningfully, and he smirks. “Always have been, honey.” His thumb rubs a little circle on your thigh that has you squirming in your seat.

The first thing you see of Steve’s apartment is the kitchen, and beyond that the dormant living room, but you don’t get that far before you’re sidetracked. Steve throws his keys onto a drop station by the door, and pins you up against the refrigerator before you can even think to ask where to put your shoes.

Your clothes are still damp, your hair still pasted to your clammy skin. Steve’s lips are attacking yours and his hands are grabbing at everything he can touch, but it’s still not enough. He’s not able to feel all of you at once, and it’s driving him insane with every passing moment.

Steve roughly yanks his suit jacket off, throwing it onto the tile floor beside the kitchen island. “Lay down.” 

“What?” you whisper to him as he kisses your neck, guiding you away from the side of the fridge. “Here?” 

“Right here,” Steve states, not joking in the slightest. You wobble on your feet as you kick off your heels, but his hands on your hips keep you steady. “Been waiting too long for this- can’t wait anymore.”

“I- wwhuh-?” you gasp as Steve kneels in front of you, and your knees buckle involuntarily as he lays you down across his discarded jacket. Your hands grab his shoulders as you tumble backward, taking him with you. 

He face-plants into your stomach with a noisy, “Oof.” Cackling, you run your fingers through his damp hair, as he laughs and shoves his blushing face further against your torso. Steve litters your stomach with kisses, giggling against you with a note of nervous energy. He’s adorable.

You pet your fingers down the side of his face and he leans into the touch. “Can’t even wait long enough to take me to the bedroom?”

“Well, I would have fucked you in the alley,” Steve points out as his fingers breach the hem of your skirt and find your panties. He tugs as he says, “Be thankful I even got you home.” 

Your cheeks burn hot. You fidget, trying to press your thighs together to abate the throbbing ache between them. “Careful, baby. You’re starting to sound desperate.”

Steve pauses, his hazel eyes lighting up when they lock on yours. “Call me that again,” he requests, pressing a kiss to your ankle as he pulls your panties off your feet. He tosses them over his shoulder, but you don’t see where they land as he continues peppering kisses down your calf.

You hold his gaze. “Baby?” His eyes flutter, his lips parting as they drag up toward your knee. “You like when I call you that?”

“I like when you call me anything,” Steve admits. “But as long as you call me that, it means I’m yours.”

Your breath stutters in your chest. Steve Harrington is yours. It doesn’t matter if it’s just for tonight- what matters is that you have him now, and he wants you just as badly.

“You’re mine, aren’t you?” he murmurs quietly against your skin, his voice crackling with brimming need. He’s flushed, his cheeks pink and his hair drying in tousled waves over his forehead the longer he drags this out. 

Nodding your head, you reach down to lace your fingers through his, where they’re bunching your skirt up around your hips. “Yes, Steve.” Always have been.  

He turns his head and sucks a spot on your calf, just below your knee, resting your ankle over his shoulder. Still, despite your desperation, you nervously keep your thighs pinched together.

Steve tuts, “C’mon, baby, you’ve gotta spread your legs for me. You wanna let me see that pretty pussy, right?” 

Still clammy and cold with rain, the air on your exposed skin makes you shiver almost as much as his sweeping hands do when they gently part your thighs. You let go, let him take control as you still and keep your eyes focused on his face, because looking anywhere else would remind you that this is real, and not a dream.

Steve sighs, “There she is. Y’gonna let me taste you, sweetheart?” He bats his pretty eyes at you in a way that makes your heart stop dead in your chest. He can’t keep his mouth off of you, even for a moment, his lips and slight stubble dragging across your skin as he says, “Been wanting to forever, you won’t even believe-”

“Please, Steve,” you start to beg before he even finishes his sentence. “Please, my god, I- I just- I just want you so much-”

“Sh-sh-sh-shh.” His tongue licks wet and hot against your inner thigh before he whispers, “I’ve got you, baby. M’not going anywhere, I’m staying right here ‘til you cum.”

You’re instantly hot all over, your blood fucking boiling beneath your skin and your wet dinner dress. Steve’s fingers dig into the meat of your thighs as he yanks you toward his face, the fabric of his jacket beneath you audibly zipping along the kitchen floor. 

Steve dips his head, and his mouth closes over your cunt right at the same moment that yours falls open with a moan that won’t come out, because you’ve suddenly forgotten how to breathe. The noise stalls right at the beginning- your lungs stop working and you can’t seem to get them to start again, because Steve’s tongue is everywhere, dripping wet and gentle on skin that’s way too sensitive to handle it right now. Your hips try to jerk away from him in resistance, but he slams his hand down on them, holding you hard and still against the tile floor, his shoulders pushed up against the backs of your thighs to keep them open. 

Steve takes a break just long enough to grin evilly up at you, because he’s been waiting for five years to tell you to, “Breathe, sweetheart.”

“Fffffuck,” you manage to spit out finally, your voice cracking on the word like it didn’t even really want to put in the work to make it happen. Your breath comes back into your lungs all at once, rapid firing with a dozen moans for punctuation. Steve’s lips quirk against you, and he rumbles a noise of satisfaction against your pussy that makes you jolt in his hold again. “Steve…”

He pulls off of you with a slow, slow stroke of his tongue over your clit, making you whimper high and tight in your throat. “That’s it, baby,” Steve whispers, his breath fanning across your slick cunt, his left hand leaving your hip so that he can drag his knuckles teasingly through your swollen folds. “Feels good, doesn’t it? Feels so right.”

Two long fingers sink into you with ease, stirring the need in you to have him just simply destroy you. You moan loud, your hand shooting out and wrapping around the leg of a bar stool for the kitchen island beside you. 

“Poor thing’s just so sensitive, huh?” Your head arches backwards against the floor, your pussy clenching tight around his fingers as he curves them with practiced accuracy. Steve’s voice is a deep murmur, distant thunder rolling over your nerves, “Relax for me, honey. You’ve waited long enough, just let it happen. Let me give you what you want.”

His lips shine when you look down at him, your hand reaching to run through his hair. Stifling a whine that threatens to come out when he kisses your clit and bends his fingers within you, you stutter out, “J-just want… I- ha-ah! Just want you.”  

Steve purrs. “I know.” The crisp white fabric of his shirt scrapes against your thighs, almost rough in comparison to his tongue flat on your pussy. You can hear the wet, salacious sound of his fingers pumping into you, pulling you toward the edge of oblivion. He hisses through his teeth, shaking his head slightly. “God, I’m so fuckin’ lucky.”

“Y-you-?” you manage a laugh, scraping your nails along his scalp lightly. “You’re lucky? You have n-no… fffucking idea-” You cut off with a sob when Steve wraps his lips around your clit, sucking long and hard enough that your leg twitches, your heel dragging up the back of his pristine white blouse. Your breathing picks up just as all your muscles lock down tight. “Jesus Christ-”  

“There you go,” Steve praises as your orgasm shakes your body, your hand gripping his hair so hard that he groans softly into your damp skin. He doesn’t stop moving his fingers, lewd wet noises picking up and echoing through the quiet kitchen. “That’s a good girl. Mmm , felt so nice to let go, didn’t it?”

You don’t know if he really wants you to answer that- you’re still twitching, coming down from your high as he pulls his fingers from your spasming cunt and sucks them into his mouth. The pause gives you a gentle reprieve, sinking back onto his suit jacket beneath you. Then, his mouth finds your pussy again, his tongue delving deep into your entrance and laving up to your sensitive clit. 

You gasp, throwing your hands down into his hair. “Steve-?!”

He moans in response. “Just needed to taste you some more, honey. Taste so fuckin’ sweet, I can’t get enough.” Steve relents, crawling up your body to hover his face over yours. “Still wanna see the bedroom?”

You nod excitedly, your hands finding his smiling face and stroking the hair away from his eyes. With a gentle kiss of his wet lips to yours, Steve gathers your still-wrecked body into his arms and carries you into his bedroom. 

He’s struck by how blissful you are as he sets you down on his bed, so soft and inviting. He encourages your arms up, his hands finding the zipper of your wet dress and finally, finally, pulling it over your head so that he can see you. All your curves and edges on display for him, after all this time imagining what he couldn’t see with the naked eye. 

“You’re so beautiful.” Steve repeats what he told you all those years ago at prom- he meant it then, and he means it now. Maybe even more this time, now that he’s not a stupid teenager, now that he finally has his head on his shoulders. 

You shiver against him when he unclips your bra- black lace that matches the underwear sitting in his entryway. A possessive part of him rears up, knowing that you’d worn them to a date with some asshole who couldn’t treat you right, even for one hour of the guy’s miserable life. Steve dips his head and kisses your breast, so much softer now than he was before, feeling your heartbeat against his lips.

“Hey.” You gently tug him by his tie, loosening it and his collar. You look into his eyes, and his heart melts. “Where’d you go just now, sailor?”

Steve blushes, his eyes flicking down as you remove his tie and start unbuttoning his blouse. “Just thinking...” he trails off, eyeing you thoughtfully. “Just thinking I could have missed you again if I wasn’t careful.”

“Mmm,” you hum, your hands smoothing up his chest and over his shoulders to get his shirt off of him. It drops to the floor with a whisper. “I don’t think so. I think this was meant to happen, eventually.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.” You scrunch your nose cutely, in a way that makes Steve’s pants tighten even more uncomfortably across his hips. “We’ve run into each other too many fuckin’ times, baby. Karma’s on our side.”

He laughs. “Karma.” He shakes his head as he undoes his belt.

You quirk your brow at him as your hands fiddle with the fly of his suit pants. “Don’t believe me?” 

Steve grunts, shifting to lean over you. “I’ll believe anything you say when you’re taking my pants off, honey. I’m easy that way.”

Your nails rake through the hair on his chest- you can’t keep your hands off of him now that they’ve got him. You trace over two blotchy scars, one on either side of his torso that mirror each other. “What happened here?”

He blows a puff of air out of his mouth, rounding his cheeks as he shrugs. “Some… animals decided I looked really tasty, at one point. I know, they aren’t very pretty.”

Steve’s brushing over it like it’s nothing. You search his face, and you decide to do the same. “Actually, I think it’s kind of hot.” You drag your hand up to lay flat over his chest. You whisper conspiratorially, “Plus, I think you look really tasty, too.”

Steve quirks an eyebrow. “Y’gonna bite me about it?”

“Probably.” You wink. “Most likely.”

Your gaze falls indiscreetly to his cock, hard and flushed, glistening with precum and curving up toward his stomach. Girls talk, especially when they’re all trying to one-up each other; you knew that he was big. You’d heard the rumors. You’d seen him wearing those tight fucking jeans all the time, and you didn’t have to have much of an imagination to figure it out.

Still. It’s… a little overwhelming. You reach out a tentative hand, lightly wrapping your fingers around his base. They barely meet. Jesus Christ.

He groans, and kisses you until you can’t speak, resting his weight on top of you until you sink gleefully into the mattress. There’s a smile on your lips that transfers onto his, happiness and ease still flowing between you even as he grinds his hips up against yours. 

“Ready?” Steve murmurs softly into your mouth, stealing your breath when you feel his cock slide through your folds, hot and fat.  

“Dunno,” you tell him teasingly, but there’s an edge of reason to your words. Your hips squirm and you feel him even worse, slippery with your arousal. You whine. “I think you might kill me with that thing, Harrington.”

“I’ll go slow,” he whispers, hoarse in the back of his throat, his voice already shaking. “I’ll make sure you feel every bit of it, yeah?”

“Yeah,” you agree as you reach to line him up properly. “I’m all yours.”

Steve gives a relieved sigh as he slides into you, his head falling heavily to your shoulder. His cock aches, his torso shaking as he tries to steady himself. “Oh my god.”

“Baby,” you coo, choking on a moan when he bottoms out. He’s so thick- your nails dig into his shoulder blades as you try to remember how to breathe. It’s certainly a big stretch to try to fit him, but you can’t help wanting more just as soon as he comes to a stop. You can feel him trying to hold steady, holding himself back as though it’s the hardest thing in the world for him to do. 

Because it is. You can’t see it, the way that his brow is furrowed in concentration, his eyes screwed shut. He didn’t know it would be like this- that he’d be in danger of blowing it just as soon as he started. 

Your heel digs into his ass, and he doesn’t know if you do it purposefully, but he almost whimpers.  

You take a shuddering breath. “Please- please move, Steve, I can’t take it.”

Oh, you can’t take it? “You know what,” Steve says with a hint of strain in his voice, picking his head up to nuzzle his nose with yours, “I think you like me.”

You snort, and kiss him lightly. “What gave you that impression?”

“Y’so fucking cute.” Steve hums and sloooowly pulls his hips back, dragging his cock through your walls so deliciously that your toes curl. “Could be all those times you stared at me in class-” He watches your face as he pushes forward, until his hips are flush with yours and your head arches backwards against his sheets. “Could be when you nearly let me kiss you at prom-” Out. In. Steve runs his tongue up the length of your throat, and bites at your earlobe. He whispers, “Could be that you came on my tongue ten minutes ago.”

He picks up his pace, just a bit. Just enough to have the bed creaking under you with the rhythm, to have you moaning in tandem with him- needy and high pitched, leaping from your throat into the hot, sex-charged air.  

Steve’s lips latch onto your neck, and he sucks hard. He eases up after just a couple seconds, dragging his tongue over the sensitive spot, but you know what he’s just done- he’s marked you, right where you won’t be able to hide it in the morning. 

You want him to do it all over your body.

Your jaw goes slack and you’re losing all integrity. He’s even better than you imagined- sleepless nights wanting, hoping endlessly that you’d find yourself here, under him, couldn’t have prepared you for how perfect it feels. His hand finds yours and laces your fingers together, pinning it to the mattress beside your head, squeezing with every slow and purposeful thrust of his hips. 

Steve’s cock finds your g-spot like it’s nothing, like he’s known your body for ages. He barely even has to try before you’re whimpering, raking your nails up his back and leaving long red trails behind. 

Your teeth latch onto his shoulder and you bite, probably harder than you should, but you just can’t refuse the urge to mark him the way that he’s left his mark on you. He moans, a deep and boyish sound in your ear, as you drag your tongue along his shoulder, soothing the bite, tasting his sweat. The salt and the sweetness of his skin, mixed with the heady smell of sex in the room, have you losing yourself in him.

“Biter.” You hear him chuckle dangerously, rumbling along your skin while his nose skirts your jawline. 

“You’re so good, Stevie-” you whine, hot pleasure rearing up in you like a tidal wave. “Oh, you feel so fucking good, I love- love how you feel inside me.”

Steve groans loudly into your shoulder, his teeth grazing your collarbone. You think he has a mind to bite you back- maybe he’d do it harder. You can see Steve drawing blood, when the mood suits him. 

But his hand squeezes yours, his other sweeping broadly up your thigh and hitching your leg up further over his hip. “Yeah?” His voice is rough, bordering on a growl, “What’d’ya say we stay like this forever, huh? Just like this?” 

His pelvis grinds up against yours, his pubes crushing against your clit making you gasp. Everything’s wet- your skin, his skin, the sheets. Sweaty bodies sticking and sliding against each other, your hips meeting his in the middle.

“Like this?” you gasp, your head reeling. His forehead presses against yours, and it’s just about the only thing bringing you back into focus. Steve doesn’t falter, keeping the same pace and rhythm while he watches you try to form a coherent reply. “Mm- I- I, hhuh-”

“C’mon, babygirl,” he breathes against your damp skin, “you can do better than that. You love my cock so much, you wanna keep it warm all the time? Wanna stay in bed with me forever, is that it?”

You nod fervently, your hands grabbing at his neck, his hair, his shoulder- anywhere you can touch. “Yes, yes. God, Steve, I- you’re gonna make me cum, shit-”  

“I know it,” Steve murmurs, tugging your lip between his teeth and making you whine again. Your cunt pulses around him, and he hisses, his hand slipping on your thigh. “Love seein’ you all drunk on my cock- shit, you’re so gorgeous like this.” He pauses to kiss you, making you lightheaded, making you tug at his hair. “Y’look so pretty under me, baby. Pussy feels so good, I wanna stay here, too. I can see us doin’ this for the rest of our lives, huh? How’s that sound?” 

How does it sound? You and Steve Harrington, together forever? Intertwined, knotted up with no way to lose each other, no disappearing and then reappearing years down the line?

“S’that a challenge?” you whimper shakily at him. “Throwing down the gauntlet?” 

“I don’t think I could let you go, now,” Steve tells you firmly, his hand leaving your thigh so that he can grab your jaw possessively, his tongue darting out to trace gently across your bottom lip. “I’m never gonna let you go, baby.”

You wrap your legs around his waist. “I don’t want you to.”

“I hope so,” he whispers, his breath mingling with yours.

Steve kisses you long and slow when you cum. You swallow his moans when he does.

What would you? Baby, if you only knew that I can see you, oh, I can see you…

You almost think it’s a dream. When you rouse in the morning, you feel like you imagined it. But you’re surrounded by the scent of Steve, of musky cologne and sweat and sex, and maybe just a little bit of hair gel stuck to his pillows. 

You flop over and stare at the ceiling. You’re alone in a king size bed, fitted with gray sheets and a few too many pillows. The other side of the bed is still warm, but your paramour is nowhere to be found. His bedroom is fairly stark, with a few little things arranged on the dresser top and clothes thrown around the floor. It doesn’t feel like a room he spends much time in, aside from sleeping and dressing in the morning.

You immediately think about what this all means for you. Whether he really meant what he said in the heat of the moment, if he really wants this to be a long-term thing or if it was just pillow talk. It doesn’t take you long to determine which one you want it to be.

There’s commotion on the other side of the closed door. You lean over the side of the bed, searching for something to put on before you just waltz out there naked. Ultimately, you pull on his blouse from last night.

You emerge from the bedroom squinting against the light in the room. The blinds in the living room are open, casting bright sunlight across the room and into the kitchen. You find Steve in front of the stove.

“Hey, there she is!” he announces happily. “Just in time for breakfast.”

Steve looks so comfortable in the kitchen, moving around quickly and efficiently, whereas you tend to blunder about. When you wander over to the island, you notice he’s already picked up his suit jacket, and laid it across the bar stool next to the one you choose. 

Your underwear is nowhere to be seen.

You grin at his back, plopping down onto the bar stool. The metal is cold against your bare ass, nearly making you squeal and jump back up. “Is it a Sex on the Beach?”

He laughs gleefully. “Nah, if only. How was that, by the way?” 

“The ice cream, or the porn?”

He turns to grin at you over his shoulder. “Both.”

He’s wearing glasses. Round wire frames that complement his face perfectly, making him look distinguished in his gray sweats and black t-shirt. Just like that, you’re spiraling. Suddenly, you’re picturing yourself being here, with him cooking breakfast in his glasses and PJ’s every morning, on and on into the future. Doing domestic shit, grocery shopping, dancing around in the kitchen at 3 am, kissing in the rain- well, you’ve already done that one.  

But you can see it. That future, with him by your side, it’s right there. You just don’t know if it’s the one that he wants. You don’t really know how deep this runs for him.

Funny what just an accessory can do to your train of thought.

“Um.” You swallow. What was the question? “The ice cream was great. Still the best sundae I’ve ever had, by the way. The porn was bullshit, I didn’t get through twenty minutes. I just wanted to make you blush.”

“Brat.” He spins around, and plates an omelet right in front of you. You watch his face, tracing the easy smile he wears. “I hope you like it- but if you don’t, you better not say anything. I don’t think I could handle the pain of your rejection.” He looks up at you, hazel eyes shining gold in the sunlight. “You’re staring.”

“I-” you blink at him. You don’t fucking say. You open your mouth to ask- you want to ask what this is, what he feels, did he mean it. Do you want to do this again? Is this serious for you? Because it is for me, if you want it. You just don’t get that far.

“You’ve been staring since we were fourteen,” he chuckles, sliding you a fork. 

That startles you. “Well,” you click your tongue. “I didn’t realize you were looking so closely.”

“Oh,” Steve shrugs, turning to place the pan in the sink. “Just since freshman year. When you read Juliet’s monologue in English class. Remember?”

You tilt your head. Vaguely. It was just a class project, where each person had to choose a Shakespearean monologue to recite in front of the class. You thought he only even became aware of you senior year.

Romeo, doff thy name, And for that name which is no part of thee, Take all myself. 

“Are you telling me,” you say, palms flat on the counter as you peer at him incredulously, “you’ve liked me just as long as I’ve liked you?”

“Told you I’d get there, eventually.”

Your brain refuses to compute. You stare at his back, his tousled hair, and want to yank him toward you and squeeze him like one of those fucking squeaky toys that you get at the pet store. The ones the eyes pop out of.

Steve turns to you with a smirk, leaning across the counter to mirror you. He reaches forward to trace the mark he made on your neck, still tender, while mocking your pout back at you. His eyes crease at the corners, like they always do when he’s trying to be coy.

“Eat your breakfast, baby. We’ve got a lot to talk about.”

(I see you, I see you, baby.)

[robinsno1lesbian]

Hi I hope you're having a good day haha!! For the summer fics, could you please write a fic where reader and the older teens are hanging out at Steve's house by the pool and reader keeps on teasing Nancy (established relationship) and eventually Nancy gets annoyed and her and reader end up having spicy times in the guest room??

𝐜𝐥𝐨𝐬𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐲𝐨𝐮 ࿐ ࿔*:･ﾟ

-n.w. x reader

summary: a pool day with nancy turns into something more. (1.7k)

warnings: SMUT!! (mdni), established relationship, thigh riding, vaginal fingering (r receiving), pet names (love, baby, pretty girl), established relationship, a little bit of dirty talk & praise kink, not sure if this needs a warning but r & nancy get interrupted near the end.

a/n: thank you so much for your request anon! i hope this is what you had in mind! nancy isn’t really annoyed in this but matches reader’s enthusiasm to get fucked <3😭 (also, the ending was a little rushed lmao)

in the safety of steve’s backyard, where everyone knows about the two of you, you feel bolder than ever. bold enough to sit on her lap, enjoying the feeling of sweaty, sun bathed skin sliding against yours.

it’s a sunny, hot afternoon in hawkins. within just a couple of days, the heat had gone from a comfortable warmth to borderline unbearable. those without the privilege of their own pool filled the public pool for some refreshment. those who knew steve harrington got to hangout in his backyard.

you guys are all fortunate enough to have steve’s pool -his parents’, more specifically, who are hardly ever around.

the heat calls for frequent group hangouts at his place. it’s not like any of you mind. it’s fun, being with the whole group. it’s much better than any public pool, hidden from the view of his neighbors behind the large fence, in the comfort of a bunch of people that have become family over the years.

you and nancy are on one of steve’s deckchairs. she has sunglasses pushed out of her face, up in her brown, wild curls. one of her arms is wrapped around you from behind, calloused fingers tracing the soft flesh of your belly.

you hum, currently watching steve and robin from afar as they dunk each other under the surface playfully.

nancy’s lips press to the back of your shoulder once, her hand squeezing your side.

“do you wanna join them, love?” she asks, chin resting on your shoulder.

“no” you hum and lean back against her. “i’m happy right here”

“you’re sweaty” nancy points out with a playful scrunch of her nose that makes you huff out a laugh.

“so are you”

you shift your weight back a little so she’s leaning against the chair and you can curl up against her. nancy, regardless of her rather petite form, drapes an arm over your front and holds you protectively

like this, with you both in your favorite swim wear and little skin covered, you can really feel her against you: the swell of her breasts, the muscles hidden beneath her skin, from the hours carrying, holding and working her guns.

it makes you shift awkwardly once more, trying not to focus on the familiar pull between your thighs -and failing miserably.

nancy’s body moves as well, subconsciously pressing the top of her legs between yours.

you know she’s not aware of it yet, if she was she’d tease you about it. she’d whisper in your ear and squeeze whatever amount of skin she can reach.

yet you notice.

you notice and you decide, right then and there, that it’s not worth fighting your desires.

you reach your hands above your head, pretending to stretch so you can align your center with her thigh. your legs are covered with a wet towel from previously swimming in the pool. it’s fortunate for you now, hiding your actions from the view of the people around you.

nancy is calling out something to mike over your shoulder but it’s white noise when you finally feel the pressure of her muscle firmly against your clit. it takes everything in you not to audibly sigh in relief.

with a quick glance behind you, you conclude that she’s still caught up in a conversation with her brother. that safety being secured, you clear your throat once more before giving in and rocking your hips forward once.

the pressure immediately send a heat wave straight to your center, your clit dragging over the firmness of nancy’s thigh.

your hand tightens over the arm rest, knuckles turning white with how hard you’re holding onto it.

nancy doesn’t seem to have noticed, you figure after a second. so you go on.

nobody’s paying any attention to you, especially with the towel that’s still thrown over your legs. seemingly no one notices when you become more careless, dragging your center over her leg until you feel your bikini bottoms clinging to your cunt.

your lashes flutter close, when you feel a hot breath against the back of your neck and nancy’s low voice whispering in your ear.

“what do you think you’re doing love?”

you freeze. she caught you. her hands sneak over your waist from behind, manicured nails digging into your skin.

“hm? I asked you a question”

“I-“ you whisper, chin falling forward against your chest. your cheeks flush red. “I wasn’t-“

“are you needy baby girl?”

you’re too far gone, unable to do anything but nod.

“please” you manage.

“wanna go inside yeah?” nancy murmurs against your shoulder blade.

again, you nod, your front teeth digging into the skin of your lower lip.

nancy is quick to help you to your feet. she seems almost as eager to get you off as you are yourself, briefly calls some excuse over her shoulder as she drags you along.

you enter through the sliding door, the hardwood floor of steve’s living room soothingly cold against your feet. you let her drag you through the space, past the kitchen and into the guest bedroom.

the second the door is locked behind the two of you, nancy presses your back against it so that the length of her strong body is flush against your own. when you look at her, she holds your gaze. there’s little of the blue left in her eyes, her pupils blown wide, giving her eyes a dark look.

“wanted me that bad?” she whispers, her lips brushing yours.

“mhm” you whine, craning your neck to reach her mouth. nancy is quicker, draws back faster, and flashes you a smile.

“yeah…?” she asks with a grin, running her fingers through your hair.

you want to nod again, or manage any sort of agreement, when she suddenly forces her thighs between yours and all kind of verbal abilities leave you all at once, morphing into a strangled gasp.

nancy’s expression is a reflection of your own; lips parted, brows drawn together, eyes heavy lidded with want.

“yeah?” she mocks, pushing her legs further up. you whine, hips rocking against her as you throw your head back against the flat surface behind you.

after a moment of this, another chance for you to get off on nancy’s thigh, she sets her leg back down.

before you have the chance to complain, nancy shoves her fingers into your bikini bottoms and shuts you up for good.

“oh baby” she groans, sliding her digits through your arousal “you’re so goddamn wet”

your head drops back against the door with a thud, exposing your neck to her. in an instant, nancy’s mouth is there, all over you, sucking red marks upon the tanned skin of your collarbones.

“think you can just tease me like that?” nancy husks against you. “think you can rub yourself raw on my thigh without anyone noticing?”

you shake your head, your hips grinding against the heel of her hand.

“thought so” the brunette murmurs. she quickly pushes your bottoms to the side and pushes two fingers into your heat. your legs tremble and you wrap your arms around her for support.

“i got you” nancy pants. she’s already pumping her fingers in and out of you, reaching your g spot with her delicate fingers.

“baby” you cry, moving your body with her thrusts.

“that’s good love” she praises. “just like that”

instinctively, you raise one of your thighs, trying to give her an easier access to your center. when nancy’s thumb brushes against your clit, your eyes widen and you let out a quiet gasp of: “oh my god, right there”

“yeah?” she asks over the wet squelching noises of your pussy. you’re almost certain that the whole house will hear if she keeps this up; fucking two of her digits into you like that.

the depths she’s reaching is sending waves of pleasure down to your abdomen and the force of her thrust slams you back against the door: she’s fucking you hard and fast, like she’s got no time to waste at all.

if someone would walk by, they’d probably hear the way you’re moving back against the door, or the obscene noises that are falling from your lips because of nancy’s relentless movements.

“nance” you moan. “nance, baby, fuck-“

nancy’s fingers are dragging along your soft, velvet walls, pushing against your g spot in a come hither motion each time she pulls back out.

with that, and the extra stimulation of your clit, she coaxes the pleasure out of you easily. nancy feels your orgasm before you do, when you start to flutter and tighten around you.

“are you close love?”she murmurs against your lips, each word accompanied with another thrust. “are you gonna cum for me, yeah? gonna let me hear you?”

and nancy, bless her, knows your body better than anyone. she knows how to move and what to do to push you over the edge you’ve been toying ever since you started riding her thigh.

“so close” you whine. “i’m so close, i’m so close baby i-“

“it’s okay” nancy assures with a carefully timed press of her thumb against your swollen clit. “come on pretty girl, cum”

and you do. the knot in your stomach tightens and tightens, until it suddenly snaps.

you can still manage a cry of “i’m cumming” between desperate gasps and ragged moans of her name before you stumble over the edge. nancy works you through your orgasm, her fingers sliding through your slick so you can rut against them to ride out the waves of pleasure.

“that’s it baby” she praises. “that’s so good, you’re doing such a good job”

only when your limbs start trembling around her wrist, does she stop her movements and slowly removes her hand from between your thighs.

“better now?” she sweetly whispers under her breath, as if your release isn’t covering her index and middle finger.

you open your mouth to answer her, yet before you can speak, someone knocks against the door behind you.

“y/n?” steve’s voice calls out. “nance? are you in there? i mean- i know you are. you guys are loud. you’re lucky there’s no one but me in the house right now”

you can’t help but burst out laughing, regardless of your exhaustion.

“don’t laugh” he exclaims.

even nancy can’t hold herself together at this point.

“we’ll be out in a minute” she calls out with a smile, pulling your bikini bottoms back into place.

she grins up at you, pecking your lips once before whispering a soft “alright?” against your mouth.

“yeah” you assure her, even though your legs still feel shaky.

“good” nancy smiles with another kiss against your lips. “we can get out of here whenever your ready”

[bimrwolf]

Like a Random Tuesday in December

steve harrington x afab!reader words: 12,457 warnings: little bit of smut !! 18+ (minors dni) ; the smut is very brief so plsplspls do not expect a lot summary: Reader had always had a crush on Steve, but he is not interested. Yet, when he starts to get closer to her, he realizes he made a mistake because it might be too late. a/n: hiiiii. long time no see for a stevie fic... i apologize university is... you know. i started working on this since NOVEMBER of 22' i hope you can enjoy it, because i enjoyed writing it!

Y/n was five years old when she had her first kiss. She was part of the Dribbling Tots basketball team that her father had forced her to be part of. He had grown up as a sports guy, having met her mother at college while he played linebacker. 

Although his first child was a girl, that didn’t stop him from doing whatever he could to make sure she would be the first woman in the NFL. Sadly, she was too young to join the PeeWee football team, so he had to settle for the next best thing. 

But at five years old, Y/n didn’t understand the reason she was forced to play this game, and her fine motor skills were still below average, dribbling the really bouncy ball was hard. As an only child she wasn’t used to sharing her belongings either, so when a small chubby boy stole the ball from her, she crossed her arms across her chest and began to wail as loud as she could. Her father was one of the coaches and he tried to calm her down, but she wouldn’t budge. 

The small chubby boy had come back to her, ball in his hand and held it out for her. The coach for the other team started to yell at him, “Steve, that’s not how we play basketball, son!” But the boy ignored him. 

She sniffled, looking at the orange ball in his tiny hands. “That wasn’t nice.”

“I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings.” He let the ball drop out of his hands and walked up to her, his innocent brown eyes nearly made her tears dry. His arms wrapped around her and she could hear the echoed “aws” from mothers watching. He broke apart from her but not without leaning in and placing a small kiss on her lips like she had seen her father do to her mother anytime she was upset. 

One would think maybe that was when Y/n first had her crush on Steve Harrington. And maybe if she really thought about it, that’s when it began. Except, that stomach drop feeling and heart racing never occurred until the seventh grade on a random Tuesday in December. He had shown up to class late, rummaged through his backpack and sighed before looking behind him. She didn’t notice at first because she was etching her pencil into the desk. 

“Hey.” He tapped his finger on the wooden desk. 

She looked up at him, surprised, Steve Harrington hadn’t really talked to her since grade school. “Uh… hey?” 

He gave her a charming smile, running his fingers through his hair which had recently been cut. “Do you have an extra pencil I could borrow?” 

She had given him one of her favorite pencils, only a tiny scratch had been on it. Okay, it wasn’t her favorite, but when he had returned it at the end of class it became her most prized possession the rest of the school year. Well, until she lost it. But her crush never subdued throughout school. 

Even watching the goofy big tooth boy grow taller, stronger, and more attractive she couldn’t help but feel her cheeks heat up whenever he was near. Her friends would tease her at lunch when she would stop mid-sentence because Steve had just stood up and caught a chicken nugget in the air or she would giggle at a joke she listened to. 

But one thing was she never told him. Not once. Y/n saw the type of girls Steve Harrington went out with and she definitely was not the small and petite Nancy Wheeler. It seemed like her feelings towards Steve would be nothing more than a school girl crush. In fact, she had rarely thought about the dark haired boy since prom. Because although he looked sad, he looked pretty. And she swore he was about to ask her to dance until some redhead jumped in front of him. That was until he decided to start working at Family Video. 

Keith mentioned there would be two new employees and all the training was on her, per usual. Y/n was Keith’s underpaid assistant but she never argued because he would eventually leave and she’d be crowned the new manager. But she didn’t expect on a Saturday morning that she would walk in to see Steve Harrington and a short haired girl named Robin Buckley waiting outside for their first ever shift. 

She tried her best not to fumble her keys while unlocking the door or run into the cart of returned movies that the closers conveniently forgot to put away. She tried at least. The cart hit her hip so hard it fell down. She immediately cursed under her breath, bending down to pick up the spilled tapes on the ground. 

Both new employees jumped to help her as she sputtered apologies and they didn’t have to help. Her breath hitched. Steve’s shoulder brushed against hers as he reached for a copy of Breakfast at Tiffany’s and suddenly she was back in Mrs. Robinson’s pre-cal class, warm cheeks, and that flip in her stomach that told her maybe her school girl crush hadn’t gone away. Lucky for her, she was the one who had been given the weekly task to make the schedule. She had ensured to never have a shift with him– at least alone. 

She thought it wasn’t obvious she was actively avoiding him until one day he had come in with lunch for Robin. Except, Robin had already gone down the street to Dairy Queen with a friend. Steve’s face dropped when Y/n had broke the news to him. One would think him and Robin were together but it took three hours for her to come to the conclusion that they were nothing more than platonic. 

Steve set the bag on the counter. He ran a hand through his hair, a strand fell down to his forehead, and she pathetically had to turn around to make sure she wasn’t drooling. “Do you want to eat lunch together?” 

She froze. “W-what?” 

Steve had already started to unpack the brown bag, shoving a fry in his mouth. “I don’t know what you like on your burger. Robin is weird and hates everything except cheese and pickles.” It was difficult to understand him with his mouth full of more salty fries and the fact she was still stunned. Steve must have noticed how she didn’t budge, staring at him with wide eyes because he looked up, tilting his head. “You're not hungry? Wait, don’t tell me. Are you one of those vegetarians? If you are, that's totally okay… you can eat my fries! Fries are a vegetable, right?” 

She put her hand up. “No… I’m… thank you.” That was all she could manage to say before she grabbed the wrapped burger on the counter to take a bite. 

“You don’t talk a lot, do you?” Steve wiped a dot of mustard from the corner of his mouth. “You never did in school.” 

She giggled. “You never talked to me in school.”

“I didn’t?” 

She tapped her chin and looked up as she pretended to go through her memories. “I recall one conversation when you asked to borrow a pencil.” 

Steve made a sound and motioned his hands at her. “See!” His laugh was infectious, silky, and warm. 

She had rolled her eyes, cheeks heated and stomach fluttered. “It’s okay. I never expected Steve Harrington to talk to someone like me.” 

It wasn’t dramatic but his face dropped and eyes averted elsewhere. He took another bite of his burger, slow and deep in thought. She wanted to apologize. It was a harmless joke. Yet, she could tell his old self was a sore subject. “Sorry I was an idiot back then. So, don’t say that about yourself. You’re pretty cool.” 

She looked down at her burger, avoiding the toothy grin plastered on his face. “You think I’m cool?” 

Steve shoved the last bite of his burger in his mouth, shrugging. “Yeah of course you’re cool. You’re the one who convinced Keith to let us put a coffee machine in the break room.”

Her face fell briefly. “Yeah… um thank you again for the burger but I need to get back to work before the rush.” She was lying, and he knew that. There was never a rush until the evening. 

He coughed awkwardly, grabbing his trash off the counter so he could place it in the bin. “Right. Well, I guess I’ll see you later?”

She only gave him a small smile, sighing in relief when the door chimed as Robin walked in, eyes wide at the sight of Steve. “I didn’t know you were working today?” 

“I brought you lunch,” he answered with a bored tone, walking towards her. 

“Oh… I was on a…” She looked over at the girl rewinding tapes, pretending not to listen to their conversation. “I was hanging out with April.” 

Steve’s eyes widened. “April from the corner store? With the…?” He grabbed imaginary boobs. 

Robin rolled her eyes, hitting him in the chest. “Gross, Steve. Are there any fries left? I’m still starving.” She grabbed the empty sack out of his hand, frowning. “I thought you said you brought me lunch?” 

Steve made a sound, glancing at the girl behind the counter. “I had lunch with Y/n instead.” 

Robin’s face contorted into something Steve knew all too well– mischief and curiosity. Robin loved to jump to conclusions. 

“Stop,” he whispered so only she could hear. He started to mess with some tapes on a shelf so it looked less suspicious. 

Robin threw her hands up. “I didn’t say anything.”

He narrowed his eyes looking back at the girl who was oblivious to the conversation and then back at his best friend. “She’s not my type.”

“I wasn’t your type either.” She jabbed back.

He blew a sigh out of his nose, opening his mouth to say something, but decided against it. He looked back at the girl.

Robin leaned closer, also bringing her voice to a whisper. “She definitely has a crush on you.” She snorted when Steve fumbled with a tape in his hand before placing it back. However, Robin took it and put it in a different spot– the correct spot. 

“She does not. She doesn’t even talk to me!” He had said the last part a little too loud, but fortunately for him she had slipped into the storage room. Her ears were out of range of their conversation. 

Robin thumped him on the forehead. “You dingus. She doesn’t talk to you because she has a crush on you, duh.” 

Steve rubbed his hand over his face. “Even if she does have a crush on me. I’m not interested.” 

Robin shook her head in disbelief, handing him the empty sack back. “Right. Because she’s not your type.” She didn’t allow him to answer, ending the conversation by telling him she’d see him later. 

And of course, it took Robin exactly twenty-seven minutes to interrogate Y/n about Steve. Business was slower than usual, and her boredom turned into twenty questions. Robin had learned more about her co-worker in fifteen minutes than the few months she had been working there.

Her favorite food, color, and astrology chart. And now she was down to her last few questions. She needed to use them wisely. “So… what do you think about Steve?” Robin tried to be nonchalant. 

Y/n didn’t react, but she noticed the way her shoulders tensed up. “Not sure what you mean by that.” 

Robin shrugged, twirling a strand of hair around her finger mindlessly. “Oh… he just mentioned something to me. It’s probably nothing.” With her plan, she walked off, pushing the cart of returned tapes around, taking her sweet time to find their right places. 

“Oh.” Was all Y/n had said before a customer walked in. But as soon as they walked out, Y/n joined Robin by the Horror section. “I’m curious. What did he say?”

Robin motioned her hand in a circle. “You know, this and that. How he thinks you hate him because you ignore him all the time.” It was a stretched lie. But it was her bait, and by the expression on the girl’s face, she was hooked. 

“I… don’t hate Steve. Does he really think that?” Her face was full of concern. She even looked so worried her face was green as if she wanted to throw up. 

Robin had to hold in the laughter. “It’s okay. I know it’s because you have a crush on him.” 

She pushed the cart away, leaving Y/n behind. Her mouth had fallen open from shock. “W-what? No I don’t!” 

“Okay,” Robin hummed. 

“Even if I did like him. That’s not why I ignore him. It's a coincidence,” she continued. 

“Don’t you make the schedules?” Robin’s brow rose, putting the last tape away. She leaned on the cart. 

Y/n huffed, crossing her arms. “I do not have a crush on him.”

“You already said that.” 

“And I’m repeating it because I feel like you don’t believe me.” 

“Because I don’t believe you.” 

The two stared at one another, neither wanted to break first. Y/n had always gotten along with Robin, but she never considered her a close enough friend to be asked such personal questions. She never went around trying to dive deeper into Robin’s romantic affairs.

Not that she ever saw her flirt with anyone that came in or talk about the very few cute boys that rolled in and out of Family Video. 

It was Y/n who finally broke, the sound of the door chime turning her attention to an older woman hobbling in. The rest of the shift the two girls didn’t speak. But Y/n occasionally caught Robin looking over at her, a smirk plastered on her face. It was like Robin had figured everything out about her.

***

The inevitable occurred. It was Thursday, but not just any Thursday. It was Halloween. And Robin Buckley had caught the flu. Not only did Keith force her to cancel all of her late night plans, but Y/n had to work with Steve Harrington– alone.

She dreaded the shift as soon as she pulled up to her designated parking spot. Steve’s sleek BMW parked right next to it. Normally when she parked next to him, she always caught him doing his hair or checking to make sure his teeth were still white.

But today, there was no sign of him waiting in the car before their shift. Before she could question it, the door to Family Video opened, two girls came out giggling. Steve was the one holding the door. She couldn’t help it but to roll her eyes. 

When he saw her get out of the car, he tilted his head, smiled softly, and waved at her. It was more than odd to see him show up before her. Keith already had a file full of tardiness warnings. “Nice costume.” Steve kept the door held open for her as she walked up to the store.

She instinctively touched the cat ears on her head. Steve followed close behind her back into the store. There were only a few customers browsing the store when she walked in. “Yeah, well thanks to Robin my plans on staying home doing nothing turned into scrambling to find something quick.”

Steve reached out and poked the orange and black ears, sniggering. “It wasn’t a requirement to wear a costume.”

She swatted his hand away and put a hand on her hip. “I know that. But it makes the shift more fun.” 

“You could’ve made it more fun for me and dressed as one of the Pussycats.” He smirked, crossing his arms over his chest.

Her cheeks heated up. Y/n walked to the counter and picked up the folder for the closing shift check-list, scanning what needed to be done. 

She glanced at the brunette who had followed her. He leaned against the counter, watching her. “If you should know, I was Josie last year for Halloween. This is my work appropriate costume.” She looked him up and down. “It’s a shame you didn’t want to dress up. You would have made a good Alan.”

His brows furrowed. “Who’s Alan?” 

“The Pussycat’s roadie and Josie’s boyfriend.” Her eyes widened at what she had just said. She turned to face him, shaking her head violently. “I- I didn’t mean it like that.” 

Steve licked his lips and opened his mouth as if he wanted to say something important. “I’m going to go check on our customers.” 

She wanted to kick herself watching Steve give an awkward tightlipped smile, and walk away to the other side of the store. Instead, she had to put on a fake smile as she checked out customers. This was the exact reason she avoided being alone with him. Her awkward nature was always illuminated in her conversations. 

And it seemed like the night only dragged excruciatingly slow. Occasionally groups of teenagers would come in like a herd, Steve scolding them not to run around. And then there were periods of times that it was just the two of them. The only sound came from the ticking of the clock and the film that was playing on the TV above the counter. 

Then three familiar boys stormed into the store. There was a short curly-haired one, looking around as if he was on a mission. “Steve!” He had shouted towards her co-worker who was fixing a display. 

Steve turned around with a huge smile. “Henderson!” 

She couldn’t help but watch in bewilderment as the two greeted one another. “Where’s Robin?” The tall scrawny dark-haired boy of the group asked, coming up to the counter to get a piece of candy from a bowl that Keith had put out. 

“Sick,” Steve answered him. He looked over at Y/n, who stood awkwardly as the three boys all made a sound of disappointment. 

“Does this mean we can’t-” The curly haired boy’s words were cut off because Steve thumped him in the head, giving him a warning look. “What was that for?” He rubbed the spot, confused.

The other two boys kept quiet, as if they knew why Steve had tried to shut the boy up. “Let’s just go Dustin.” The dark skinned boy said. He motioned his eyes towards Y/n.

“Oh.” Dustin nodded, looking over at her. He gave her a toothy grin, his braces gleaming from the fluorescent lights. “Right… uh… well I guess we’ll see you later, Steve.” 

The three boys all gave a disappointed sigh, their shoulders slouched as they made their way towards the door. 

“Wait,” Y/n called out. The three boys stopped, turning around quickly. “You boys didn’t come in here to rent an R-rated movie… did you?” She raised a brow. 

They all looked at one another.

“Or did you? Because my co-worker here lets you?” She tilted her head, trying to hold back the laughter from interrogating them. They gave a panicked look towards Steve, who was pretending not to listen. She looked over at him, narrowing her eyes. “But Steve wouldn’t do that. Because he knows that’s a fireable offense, right?” 

Steve stuttered, trying to come up with the words. “Uh… yeah… right.” 

“And as one of the leader’s, it’s my duty to write you up if I see you let fourteen year-olds rent an R-rated movie.” Steve looked down at the ground, avoiding her glare from being caught red-handed. Y/n let out a sigh. “I’m going to the backroom to get something. Since I can’t see the store or anything that happens while I’m in there, will you make sure any customers are taken care of while I’m gone?” 

Steve looked up at her. He was unsure what to say. So, he just nodded. 

Y/n eyed the three boys, giving them a small smile before walking to the back. She could hear them quietly celebrate as she entered the backroom. Of course, there was nothing for her to get or do in there. She was waiting until she heard the boys say bye, and ring of the bell, letting her know they were gone. 

When she came back out, Steve’s back was leaned on the counter, arms crossed, watching the front door. The sunset streamed in, casting a glow on his tanned skin. She felt her cheeks heat up when she noticed the muscles in his arms poke out, his shirt sleeve hugging them. He noticed she had walked back into the room, standing straight, and brushing out his vest. 

“Your friends left?” She pretended to look for them even though she knew the answer, walking towards the cash register. Her back now faced him. 

Steve looked amused. “I wouldn’t really call them my friends.” 

“They come in a lot to see you. That curly-haired boy seems to be fascinated with you.” She smirked at the thought that The King of high school who was popular was now only friends with a bunch of outcasts. 

“Oh, yeah. I guess Dustin is like the little brother I never had.” He walked up next to her. 

She shuddered when his arm brushed against hers. “That’s adorable,” Y/n cooed. She looked up at him with a big smile.

Steve blushed, but smiled back nevertheless. In doing so, it filled the air around the two of them with something that Y/n couldn’t describe. But it was suffocating, pricking her skin into tiny goosebumps along her arms. 

He raked his fingers through his hair, sucking in his teeth. He was the first to break eye contact. “Listen, I um… wanted to talk to you about something Robin had said.” 

Her face fell, unsure what he was going to say. “Oh?” 

“Well, it’s kind of funny she would say such a thing. But a few weeks ago she mentioned something about you… having a crush on me.” He had thrown in some laughs as if it would ease the awkwardness. 

Suddenly, it felt like Y/n had forgotten what words were. She was frozen, blinking rapidly, trying to tell her brain how to open her mouth. It would be easy for her to lie. To tell him, no, that’s absolutely ridiculous. Nevertheless, she looked up at him, a pathetic look in her eyes, opening her mouth to say something, but choosing to give a weak smile instead. 

Realization hit him. Robin's intuition was correct. He couldn’t help but look at his feet, blushing. “Oh.”

The reply was all she needed to hear to know his thoughts on the matter. “It’s okay. You don’t have to say anything. I know you’re not interested. It’s just silly feelings that don’t mean anything, you know?” Her smile was small and sad. “I’d like to be your friend, though. I’ve just always been shy because you’re Steve Harrington and I wasn’t sure how to talk to you.” 

Steve hated to admit her response was overwhelming and confusing. It was sure, he had never thought of her more than just a coworker. He gave a quick nod. “Right. Friends is… good. I’d like to be your friend as well.” 

There was a beat. 

“Great.” Y/n threw her hands up. “Then friends we are!” She patted him on the shoulder. And although her chest was tight, and a lump in her throat threatened to come up, she still smiled. 

The bell ringing forced their attention towards the front door as another group of teenagers stormed in. The conversation was dropped for the rest of the night. And it probably would never come up again.

They were just friends.

***

Robin typed on the Family Video computer, occasionally leaning back, looking at the office door when she heard raised voices. Steve set some tapes on the counter next to her. She jumped, briefly looking at her friend before turning to look at the closed door again. “What do you think they’re talking about in there?” 

Steve tilted his head, shrugging. “‘Dunno. Y/n and Keith have been butting heads for the past two weeks.” 

“Yeah, but Mr. Morris never comes in. It must be something serious if the owner wanted to talk to them,” she whispered. 

Before Steve could reply, the office door opened wide. “This is bullshit!” Y/n stormed out. She turned back around, pointing her finger towards whoever was in the room. “When this store goes downhill, don’t call me for help.” She pulled her work vest off and threw it on the ground. “I’m tired of doing all of Keith’s work and have no credit around here.” 

There was no reply from inside the office, making her scoff in disbelief. “Fuck this place. And fuck you, Keith. Should I tell Mr. Morris now that you’ve been sneaking tapes from the adult section?” She turned back around and stomped past Robin and Steve, stopping for a moment to look at them, but it seemed like there was nothing else to say. She walked out of the store, leaving the pair dumbfounded. 

Steve gave Robin a look. “I’ll be right back.��� Before she could argue, Steve was running out of the store. He sighed in relief when he saw Y/n’s car still parked. He ran across the street, calling out her name, waving his hand in the air, barely missing a car coming his way. Whoever was driving was not happy because they held down their car horn as they passed by, flipping him off. 

He didn’t bother with apologies. Instead, he walked up to her car, panting. 

“Did your mother ever teach you how to look both ways, Harrington?” Although she was smirking, Steven took note of her puffy red-stained eyes. Dried tears clung to her soft cheeks. She must have noticed he was looking at her because she took the back of her hand to wipe her face. 

“Are you okay?” He placed the palm of his hand on the top of her car, leaning on it slightly, trying to catch his breath. He needed to get back in shape. 

Y/n, already frustrated, rolled her eyes. “I’m fine, Steve. I just want to go home.” 

“Are you sure? It looked pretty rough back there.” He pressed. 

Her jaw ticked. “Steve, I appreciate your concern. But I really don’t want to talk about it. Especially with you.”  

Taken aback, Steve allowed his hand to slip down. He looked off to think for a moment. “I’m sorry. I just thought now that we’re friends… you might want someone to talk to.” 

She bit her lip and pinched her nose. “No, I’m sorry. I’m pissed off and I took it out on you.” Her voice was soft, slightly cracking. Yet, she gave him an assuring smile. “Thank you for checking up on me.”

He smiled back. “Robin and I are having a movie night tomorrow. You should come. I have a heated pool.” He could sense she was unsure with the proposal. “And there will be booze. If you’re into that sort of thing of course.” 

She sniggered, “Okay.” 

That next night, Y/n showed up to Steve Harrington’s house just as she promised. She knocked on the large double doors. It took a moment before it opened. Her brows knitted together when the curly haired boy from Halloween answered the door. His name was Dustin, if she remembered correctly. “You’re not pizza.”

She dramatically patted herself. “Oh god. You’re right. I’m not. And you’re not Steve.”

Dustin rolled his eyes. “Very funny.” He left the door open just enough to let her in. “Steve! Your girlfriend is here.” 

Her eyes went wide. “Oh, we’re not-”

“Y/n! You came.” Steve interrupted her, walking into the foyer. 

She looked away quickly. He was only in a pair of swim trunks, a towel hung around the back of his neck. She had hoped he wasn’t serious about swimming. Even with a heated pool it was 53° outside. “Yeah, I had nothing better to do.” 

Steve laughed, then looked over at Dustin who was still standing there, watching the two of them, clearly amused. “Henderson, what are you doing?” 

“Waiting on the damn pizza you said you ordered an hour ago. I’m starving,” the younger boy complained. 

“Stop whining and go upstairs and tell Robin Y/n’s here.” He motioned Dustin to go up the staircase that was right next to them. And like a mother, when Dustin opened his mouth to argue, Steve held a finger up. “Go, now.” 

His shoulders dropped in defeat, doing as he was told. 

Y/n giggled. “He seems like a handful.” 

“No kidding.” Steve watched Dustin disappear at the top to go find Robin. “Just between you and me, I completely forgot to order the pizza.”

“I heard that!” Dustin yelled. 

Steve ignored him, but rather put his hand on Y/n’s back so he could lead her through the house. “This is the living room.” 

“I know.” Her eyes widened. “I didn’t mean that in a stalker way. I meant it as I’ve been to your parties in high school way.” 

He chuckled, removing his hand from her back. “Sorry about that. I don’t remember much about high school. Mostly because part of me was so self-absorbed.” 

There was a beat. 

“Would you like a beer?” 

“Uh… sure.” She followed him into the large kitchen. She had never seen it so empty, tracing her finger over the marble countertop. “I never thought you were self-absorbed.” 

Steve paused for a moment to process what she had just said, looking over at her as she jumped on top of the counter. She seemed fascinated with his kitchen. He wasn’t sure why, though. It was just a kitchen. “I’m okay with admitting to being selfish and arrogant back then.”

Y/n took a cold can of beer out of his hand. She smirked, opening the can, letting it hiss. “I never said I never thought you were arrogant.” She took a sip. 

Steve couldn’t help but titter. She had got him there he had to admit. 

“Steve, Dustin said you forgot to order the pizza.” Robin’s voice infiltrated the kitchen as she barged through the door, clutching her stomach dramatically. “I’ve been studying non-stop and I think I’m about to die from lack of food.” 

Y/n’s giggle made Robin look her up and down, examining from head to toe. She then turned back to Steve, a painful expression on her face. “Please order the pizza. My life is on your hands, Harrington.” 

Steve rolled his eyes, taking the towel around his neck and swatting her with it. “You order it. I’m showing my guest around.” 

“You never showed me around,” Robin mumbled. He tried to hit Robin again, but she caught the towel and pulled it away, frowning. “You do know me and Dustin will abuse this power of pizza ordering privileges.” 

Steve looked like he was second-guessing his choice. Yet, he just sighed. “Yeah. Do as you wish. We’ll meet you guys outside in a bit.” He motioned for Y/n to follow him. 

She slid off the counter, giving Robin a small smile. “See you in a bit.”

And before she turned to follow Steve out of the room, Robin’s mouth twisted into a sly smirk. She then crossed her arms and gave a suggestive wink at the girl. Y/n felt her face heat up and quickly put her head down, scurrying out of the room to catch up with Steve. 

Later that night, Steve had walked Y/n to her car. When he walked back inside his house, he joined Robin and Dustin back in the living room. The two sat on the couch, arms crossed, and had knowing looks plastered on their faces, like mom’s who knew too much.

Steve ignored them and instead started to clean up the area. He had changed into a shirt and sweats, but his hair was still damp and clung to his forehead. Him and Dustin had been the only ones who swam. Robin and Y/n sat at the edge, their feet dipped into the pool, talking about who knows what. 

Although Robin and Steve had a lot in common and were inseparable since the summer, he couldn’t help but feel happy she had another friend who was a girl. Truthfully, he struggled fully understanding her. 

“Are you sure you two aren’t dating?” Dustin had been the one to break the ice, asking the question that Robin was wondering as well. 

She sat silent, but by her expression, Steve could tell she had a lot to say on the matter. The Harrington boy sighed loudly, not looking over at them. “I’m sure.” 

Robin let out a scoff, everything she had been holding in spilling out. “Are you kidding me? I’ve had to endure you two blatantly flirting or eye… canoodling for three weeks straight. But get this, he told me he turned her down when she told him she liked him.”

Dustin jumped off the couch, walking up to Steve.“Wait… dude, she likes you? And you rejected her? I thought it was weird when you and Robin haven’t gotten together yet, but this is even weirder.”

Steve glanced over at Robin, sharing a knowing look at one another. “Uh… yeah,” he coughed awkwardly. “She’s just not my type, you know.” Steve shook his head. This was unbelievable. Why was he talking about his love life with a kid? “Go get your stuff. Your mom should be home by now. I can’t believe I let her convince me to look after you tonight.” 

Dustin mumbled profanities, walking off to go collect his things. Robin on the other hand had stood up, not wanting to drop the subject. “You’re a dingus, Harrington.”

“I’m done talking about it, Buckley. We’re just friends.” He took the handful of trash and walked into the kitchen to throw it away.

Robin followed. “Give me one good reason she isn’t your type. Then I’ll drop it.” Steve turned around, hands on hips, annoyed. Robin held out her pinkie. “I promise.” 

He looked to the side and his jaw ticked. “I dunno, she just isn’t. There isn’t anything else to say.”

“You’re not helping your case-” He cut her off by groaning loudly, putting his face in his hands. “Jesus Christ. I don’t like her because she doesn’t really like me. I can tell you’re confused. I meant that she doesn’t really like me because she likes this version of me she knew from high school.”

She still looked confused. “Okay?” 

“Robin, you’ve seen my many failed dates. It has all been girls that I went to school with who had a crush on Steve “The King” Harrington. Once they learned that I was just some guy who had no actual plan for the future…” He couldn’t seem to finish the last part. He leaned back on the counter, arms crossed. 

Robin started to laugh, receiving a dirty look from him. “But you always know that’s why those girls like you because of you were. Why is Y/n different? Is it because you like her too?” 

Steve didn’t answer at first. He scratched his neck, standing up straight again. “She’s just a friend.” 

Defeated in the argument, Robin sighed. “Right. Do you know why she quit yesterday?” 

“What does this have to with-”

“She quit because Keith reported her for renting R-rated movies out to kids.”

Steve’s mouth fell open, unsure what to say. 

But he didn’t have to say anything, because Robin continued, “She didn’t have to do that. She could have told the truth and saved her ass but she didn’t. Now sure, she might have a crush on you because of Steve “The King” Harrington. But something tells me she might be okay with Steve “The Lame and Dingus” Harrington.” 

Steve couldn’t sleep the rest of the night once Robin and Dustin arrived safely back at their homes. He hated when Robin had the last word in their squabbles. And it seemed like this time it took the words right out from under him. 

He was unsure how to feel. Grateful? Guilty? Indebted? None of those made up for what Y/n had done for him. And she didn’t even tell him. It was an unconditional favor that he wasn’t aware of until now. 

***

Y/n hated to admit it, but she missed Family Video. Her days at the store were always different, even with the odd small-town regulars that came in. She hated that she even missed the smell of Keith’s tuna sandwich he always brought for lunch. 

Now, she was stuck behind a desk taking calls for an attorney who rarely had clients. At first, she was ecstatic her first day had been sorting paperwork, but if she had known it would only take her a couple of hours, she would’ve dragged it out rather than trying to be a kiss-ass over achiever. 

Unlike Family Video, her day was always the same. It was Hawkins, she expected to see odd cases come in and out, but most of the time it was the town drunks who violated their probation by drinking under the influence.

However, one good thing happened was at exactly 11:30 AM, Steve Harrinton would walk in with lunch. The first few days he had came, Y/n had already packed a sandwich for herself and it had gone to waste. She soon learned there wasn’t a need to pack her lunch at all by the second week. 

Steve had managed to become the new lead, meaning he had full control of scheduling. Y/n was happy for him. He seemed to enjoy having more control and privileges. And she imagined he took advantage of his position whenever he was on a shift with Robin. 

So, by now it had come to no surprise when he waltzed into the office, two bags in his hands, plopping in the chair on the other side. He always set his feet on top of the desk, which Y/n always pushed off. Even if she was occupied with a word search or book, it was an instinct. 

“Working hard or hardly working?” He smiled, teeth and all, knowing she would cringe. 

She let out raspberry, reaching over the desk and hand held out to take the bag. “What fine cuisine did you bring for me today? Wendy’s?” 

Steve laughed, handing over the bag. “My mom’s meatloaf.”

She gave him a look. Nothing had to be said to know that it was strange coming from him having a home cooked meal from his mom. Especially since a few weeks ago he had mentioned his dad had received a promotion, meaning more time traveling. Steve had expressed many times that Mrs. Harrington didn’t trust his dad on his own. 

She watched as he took out the contents of his bag. She had put the blinds up earlier because the sun was out even though it was December. Sunlight bled through, highlighting his dark hair that it almost looked like honey was oozing down his head like streaks. 

However, the moment was ruined when he shoved a bologna sandwich in his mouth, crumbs falling everywhere. 

“You always eat like it’s your last meal.” She noticed a drop of mustard on his chin. Sighing, she opened a drawer full of miscellaneous items, taking out a napkin. She leaned over the desk and wiped the mustard off his chin carefully. There was a beat where the two locked eyes, but she pulled away quickly, handing him the napkin. 

“I eat like a working man who only has a 30-minute lunch break,” he complained. 

She giggled. “I’ve told you my boss is looking for an intern. You’d get an hour.”

“Pfft. I am not cut out for the world of law. Although, my dad would probably be more than happy.” Steve ate the last bite of his food, rubbing his hands against one another to get the crumbs off. 

She only smiled in response, finally taking a bite of the meatloaf, her eyes wide as it hit her tongue. “This is delicious!” 

A laugh bellowed out of him. “Woah, slow down there.” 

Y/n didn’t listen. In about five bites the meatloaf was all gone from the tupperware container. A loud burp escaped from her lips, she shockingly covered her mouth from embarrassment. But she quickly eased up when she saw the corner of his eyes crinkle. 

She had noticed something different recently whenever she was around Steve. His touches always seemed to linger, or the sound of his laughter somehow stained the air around her. She wasn’t sure how that was possible, but even after he left the room she could still hear the rich sound waiting around, ringing throughout her ears. As if it wanted to taunt her. And not to mention his apparent need to always see her. 

She had told herself weeks ago she was over him. He would never like her. They both verbally agreed that he only saw her as a friend and that was all they would be. 

Steve coughed, attempting to break the silence. His expression made it seem like he had been trying to find the right words to say something. “So, did you see that Girls Just Want to Have Fun is showing at the drive-in on Saturday?” 

She almost jumped in her seat. “Wait? Really? That’s my favorite movie!” 

Steve smiled. He knew it was her favorite. Once he looked at her account and saw she had rented it a month straight once the store started to carry it. “Oh! I had no clue. Well, um…” He scratched his neck. “If you’re not busy do you want to go with me?”

“Yeah! I mean I’m not busy. I’d love to!” She grabbed her bag on the ground and dug around until she found her pocket calendar. “What time?”

Steve took a moment to relish her excitement, taking note how it made her eyes brighter. “Uh… seven.”

She nodded, scribbling down the plan on the calendar for Saturday. “That’s a perfect excuse to return Robin a book I borrowed from her.”

His face fell. “Robin?”

She didn’t seem to notice the shift. “This is so exciting!” 

“Do you think I meant… Y/n I was kind of hoping… what I meant was that I wanted it to be just-” 

Steve’s words were cut off as the front door opened. Y/n’s demeanor changed. Steve watched her closely as she sat up straighter, wiped her blazer of any crumbs, and looked at herself in the reflection of the computer in front of her. 

He turned in his seat to see who had walked in that made her react in such a way. 

It was a tall, clean, short haired man. “Hello, Y/n.” He was soft-spoken but somehow carried an assertive energy. Steve had to do a double take to realize it was Mike Lewinski. He was an old basketball teammate from school. And apparently over the summer he had had a makeover.

“Mike?” Steve stood up, allowing the third party to recognize his presence. 

“Harrington? Wow, man. I thought it was only rumors that you stuck around.” He looked at the Family Video vest, before holding out his hand. “What brings you to my dad’s office?”

Steve was hesitant, but took it nonetheless, both their grips tight as if challenging one another silently. “Oh… I was just having lunch with Y/n.” 

Mike looked over the girl who had also stood up in the meantime, smiling bashfully at him. “Y/n, I wasn’t aware you were seeing someone.” 

She shook her head. “We’re not together!” 

Steve turned around quickly from her eagerness to turn down the accusation. He faced Mike again. “Yeah, we have lunch sometimes whenever I’m not busy.” 

“Ah.” Mike smiled. Almost like he was relieved. “Is my father in his office?” 

Y/n stuttered. “Oh… yeah! You’re good. He doesn’t have any meetings today.” 

He smiled and nodded. “Good to see you, Harrington. We should go out to the Hideaway sometime.”

“Yeah.” 

Mike walked past him and towards his father’s office, stopping when he reached next to Y/n. She smiled nervously as he looked at her closely. “Did you cut your hair?” 

Instinctively, she touched it, smiling. “Yes, I did.” She didn’t. 

“I like it. It suits you.” Mike gave another curt nod, before walking into his father’s office. 

Y/n giggled to herself, sitting back down in her chair. 

Steve, on the other hand, couldn’t believe the monstrosity he had just witnessed. His jaw ticked the longer he thought about Meathead Mike and Y/n, in the words of Robin, eye canoodling. “You haven’t done anything with your hair.” 

Y/n looked up, brows furrowed. “Huh?” 

“He asked if you cut your hair and you said yes. You haven’t cut it. You just have it in a different style.” He pointed. 

She scoffed. “So what? I was only being nice.”

“You were flirting,” he argued. 

Y/n had had enough. She looked at the door behind her before jumping to her feet. She stormed around the desk, grabbing his wrist, and pulled him outside. “What the hell is with you?”

Steve pulled his arm away so he could cross them against his chest. And almost like a child, he looked away from her. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” 

“You’re unbelievable.” She had to walk away for a moment to take a deep breath privately before returning. “You’ve been so strange lately. And now you’re upset because you think I was flirting with someone.” 

“I’m not upset.”

“Right… fine. I’m not going to argue with you about it. I’m just having a hard time understanding you, Steve. I mean you go from not talking to me at all to coming to my work every day with lunch. Why?” In that moment, she hoped that secretly all this time had been his way of telling her he liked her. 

It was promising because he had taken a step closer to her. His eyes drooped, vulnerable and harboring a secret he had been holding in. 

When he saw her flirt with Mike, he realized that he had taken too long to decipher his feelings and thoughts about her. She had moved on and followed through with their mutual promise to be friends. He swallowed the thickness stuck in his throat, dropping his arms to his sides. “You’re right. I have been acting strange.” 

Y/n’s heart skipped a beat.

“I have been feeling something for weeks and I wasn’t sure how to express it,” he continued. 

The corners of her mouth lifted, stepping closer to him, grabbing his hand. “Steve, it’s okay. You can tell me.” 

He looked down, ashamed. “I’ve felt guilty about you quitting because of me.” His voice was soft but almost ear-deafening at the same time. 

She closed her eyes to process what he had said. “You… you’ve been bringing me lunch every  day because you felt guilty about me quitting?” 

Steve nodded. “You took the fall for me and then I ended up with your job. I feel like an asshole.”

Y/n bit her lip, letting go of his hand. However, she smiled reassuringly. “I’m going to kill Robin for telling you.” 

“Please don’t. Her ghost will come back and kill me.” 

They shared a laugh. 

Steve looked through the window at the closed office door. “Mike’s a good guy.” 

“Yeah. I know.” She smiled sadly, looking at her watch. “Your break is over.” 

Steve took a deep breath. “Right. You know, about Saturday. I completely forgot that I have to pull a double so I don’t think I’ll be able to go.” He put his hand on top of his head, pretending as if it had just come to him. 

She tried not to look upset. “It’s okay. I forgot I have to babysit.” It was a lie. And maybe deep down he knew it, but he didn’t show any reaction. 

Instead, he left her with a half-hearted smile and dirty tupperware that he forgot to take with him. She had taken it home and washed it so it would be returned cleaned. But the rest of the week, Steve didn’t show up at his regular time. Anytime she called the store and asked for him, someone always gave the excuse that he was busy. By Friday, Y/n had packed her own lunch for the first time in weeks. 

***

Robin Buckley had never been a flashy person. She hated the attention on her. And she only said things to strangers if she absolutely had to. 

So when her, Steve and Y/n were at the diner and she brought up wanting to have an eighteenth birthday party, Steve was taken aback. Y/n on the other hand, squealed. “Oh my god! That will be so much fun. Don’t you agree, Steve?” They had only recently started to be okay again. But there were still moments when the energy between them was tense. 

He didn’t look at her. “Yeah, I guess.” 

Y/n hit his shoulder. “This is Robin’s only eighteenth birthday. Of course she’d want to have a huge party.”

“I never said anything about it being huge,” Robin interjected.

Y/n waved her hand as if she was waving off what her friend had just said. “Leave the planning to me. Steve can we have it at your-”

“Whatever.” He glanced at his watch, getting out of the booth. “I have to go pick up Dustin and his geek squad.” He finally looked at Y/n as he laid some cash to cover his bill on the table. “Robin can tell me more at work tomorrow.” 

Once he left, she let out a huff. “He has some nerve.” 

Robin waited a moment before replying. “He’s been pissy lately because Dustin has been hanging out with Eddie Munson more than him.”

“He’s so moody,” she complained. 

Robin only hummed. 

The party was more than what Robin had imagined. People she had never spoken to filled the empty spaces of the Harrington household. They had no clue who she was, but it didn’t matter because there was free alcohol and they were all too drunk to ask. 

Robin stood next to Y/n, shyly saying thanks to all the people who wished her a happy birthday. She took a sip from her cup, cringing at the taste. Y/n chuckled, leaning over to Robin, grabbing her arm for support. “No one’s forcing you to drink that.” 

Robin, as if proving a point, chugged the rest, wiping her mouth. “It’s my birthday. Once I get drunk enough, it will taste like water.” 

They shared a fit of drunken giggles. Y/n looked across the room to see Steve leaned against the wall, a red-solo cup in his hand, talking to a blonde. She felt her stomach twist and the only remedy was the rum punch in her hand. “I need to get laid.”

“W-what about that one guy…” Robin snapped her fingers trying to recall the name. “Meathead!” 

“Meathead?” She thought for a moment. “You mean Mike?” Mike Lewinski had asked her out for coffee a few weeks ago. Nothing had gone wrong, in fact he was nice, but their conversations fell flat and uninteresting. Both of them had agreed there would be no future dates.

“Ah, right. His name was Mike. I was thinking about what Steve had called him the other day.” She frowned when she looked inside her empty cup. Unsure where it all had gone. “I need more to drink.” 

The two girls walked through the crowd to get to the kitchen. “Why were you and Steve talking about me and Mike?” 

Robin’s shoulders tensed, glancing back to look at her. “Oh… uh… we weren’t.” 

Y/n could read through the blatant lie. She finished her drink rather than calling out Robin. She chose to drink a beer next, taking one out of the ice chest at the end of the island. She asked if Robin wanted one, but the girl didn’t reply. 

She looked up to see her staring across the room. Following her gaze, Y/n’s eyes landed on a tall thin girl. Her hair was fiery red and curly. Freckles scattered on her face as if a painter had flicked their brush. She noticed Robin was looking at her. She smiled sweetly and gave her a tiny wave before returning to her conversation. 

Robin had raised her hand, blushing profusely. The dots seemed to connect for Y/n. “You know, you should go talk to her.” 

Robin snapped around, eyes huge, like she had been caught red-handed. “I- wasn’t…” She let out an exasperated sigh. “Her name’s Vickie. She’s in band with me.” 

“She’s cute. I honestly didn’t expect that from you.” 

“Well, most people don’t expect me to be a lesbian.” 

Y/n giggled. “No, I meant I didn’t expect you to be into red-heads.” 

She wasn’t sure how many drinks she had had in her system by the time she needed to use the bathroom. The air had turned stale from the sweaty bodies that polluted the house. It didn’t help that people came back inside after smoking cigarettes or weed, the stench still clinging onto their clothes. 

The only bathroom that was open to guests was downstairs. The line wasn’t long, but it seemed to drag the longer she waited and the more she needed to use it. She leaned her body against the wall next to her, letting the chilled surface cool her hot cheeks. 

She stood straight when Steve stumbled through the hallway. At first he didn’t notice her until she slurred his name. He stopped, and chuckled at her state. “Why are you by yourself?” 

Y/n reached out and drunkenly grabbed his hand, pulling him closer. He didn’t fight it. In fact, he took his other hand and put it on top, his thumb rubbing hers. She went to her tip toes so she put her mouth close to his ear. “Robin is flirting with girls.” 

Steve’s expression seemed panicked. “How’d you…?” 

“Stevie, I’m a genius. I was bound to find out someday.” She giggled as if she had said the funniest thing in the world. “I let her flirt so I could wait in like to piss. I have to piss so bad.” 

Steve looked at the line in front of her, sighing. “Come on.” He wrapped his arm around her. Maybe to support her. Or maybe just an excuse to touch her. He led her away from the bathroom and towards the staircase. 

As they ascended, many people gave them strange looks. And some were jealous, thinking that Steve Harrington had found the girl he would spend the night with. 

Y/n had known Steve as a close friend for months, and even had come over more than she could count on two hands, but she had never been inside his room. It was neat and smelled like mahogany and his cologne. 

He let go of her, pointing towards another door. “Uh… there’s my bathroom.” 

She smiled, thanking him before going inside. It was fairly large. A long counter with products scattered on the top. He had one of those walk in showers with glass doors. 

She looked behind her just to be sure before sneaking over, picking up a nearly empty bottle of shampoo, opening and taking a sniff. Yep, it smelled exactly like him. Sweet but also like the outdoors during winter. 

When she finished and walked back outside, Steve was laying on his bed, legs dangled over the side, eyes closed. She let out a breath that resembled a laugh. She walked over to him, sitting on the side and looked down. 

A stray hair had fallen to his forehead. She couldn’t help but reach out and use her pointer finger to brush it back. She jumped when his eyes snapped open. “I didn’t mean to disturb you.”

He groaned, sitting up. He looked bad. Not because he had drunk a lot but also because he looked as if he hadn’t slept well lately. 

“We should get back to the party,” Y/n suggested. 

“No.” He had said it quickly, like a snap. It wasn’t meant to be harsh, but he realized how rash he sounded. “Sorry. I had meant I wanted to stay here for a bit. But you can go.” 

She bit her lip. Surely he didn’t think she was going to leave him by himself. Instead of words, she grabbed his hand. Silently saying she would stay. 

A few minutes passed by of the two of them sitting in the dark room, listening to voices from outside. The moon casted a milky light through his window, making shadows dance on the wall in front of them. Y/n nudged Steve, laughing. “Am I super drunk, or does that shadow on the wall look like a dick?”

Steve narrowed his eyes, trying to see what she was looking at. His shoulder brushed against hers as he joined in her laughter. “Yeah. It really does.” 

“It compliments the room well,” she joked. 

He pushed his body into her side softly. “I’ll think about it next time we redecorate the house. I think my mom will be ecstatic.” 

There was a beat where they laughed harder, looking at one another. She had taken her hand away from him to cover her mouth. He had taken his hands and covered his face. Y/n took note how they were large enough to hide all of his features. 

The laughter subdued gradually, both of them putting their hands back into their laps as they calmed down. Y/n sighed to fill in the silence. “I’m going to go find Robin. She’s probably looking for me. Do you want to come with me?” 

“I think I’m going to stay here for a few more minutes. You know, so no one gets the wrong idea.” He smirked. 

She scoffed. “I think they already had the wrong idea when you brought me up here.” She smiled. “Thank you, by the way. I probably would’ve pissed my pants if it weren’t for you.”

He rolled his eyes. “Don’t be dramatic.”

She pushed him slightly. “Asshole.” The pair locked eyes, making her stomach flip. “Seriously, thank you.” She slowly leaned in, hesitant, placing a tender kiss on his cheek. 

She pulled away to get up, but Steve’s hand flew to her wrist, forcing her to stay. She was shocked, a small gasp escaped her. Even though they were already looking at one another, he seemed to be searching for something in her eyes. His Adam’s apple bobbed as his thumb swiped her cheek. “You had an eyelash,” he mumbled. 

“Oh.” The back of her neck started to feel warm. “Was that all?” 

“You’re so pretty.” 

And it was like all the energy at the top of the rollercoaster that seemed to build over the months had finally reached the top, falling. Their lips connected. And it was more than Y/n had expected as they moved like static rubbing together, electrifying from her lips to her toes. 

When she moaned, Steve took the opportunity to kiss her open-mouthed, drinking in the sound that followed. His hand gripped her hip, pulling her closer. It had to be all a dream. She needed to tangle her fingers in his hair unless he would slip away.

This wasn’t the first time she had touched his hair. Sometimes she would ruffle it when he was irritating her, or when they hung out he would lay his head on lap as she brushed her fingers through. But this time was different. It felt dirty. 

He was the first to break away, his chest heaving, lips swollen, and eyes darkened. He shuddered when she went straight for his jaw, leaving a trail of kisses to his ear, slightly grazing her teeth on the lobe. 

“Babe, I’m going to cum if you do that again.” He moved his head so he could place another kiss on her lips, then on her neck.

“Say that again,” she whispered. 

“What?” He kissed and sucked on a spot that made her gasp his name. “Do you want me to call you babe? Was that it?”

“Yes, please.” She dug her nails into his shoulders, clenching her eyes when his hand slipped under her shirt.

“You have no idea how worked up you have me, babe.” 

She placed a hand on his thigh, feeling the bulge through the denim of his jeans. She gave him a smug expression. “I think I have an idea.” She swung her leg over his so she could straddle him. Thankful for the skirt she had chosen to wear when it rode up her thigh slightly. She bucked her hips so that she could feel him twitch through the thin fabric of her underwear. 

The kisses became sloppier and more heated as they continued to roam their hands all over one another. 

Both their shirts ended up on the floor eventually. Followed by Y/n’s bra. His belt had been unbuckled to relieve him of the pressure. 

With his mouth, he peppered kisses on her breasts, putting one in his mouth as he kneaded the other with his free hand. When he broke away, a string of saliva formed from her nipple to his lips. 

He looked up at her, and he looked destroyed. 

It had been everything she had dreamed. So why did she feel tears brim her eyes? She gave him a fierce kiss again, but it somehow felt… wrong. “I…” Her bottom lip quivered.

“Yes?” He tried to kiss her neck again, but she stopped him. 

“I forgot about the cake!” She jumped off his lap, grabbing her bra and shirt, turning away from him to put them back on. 

“Cake?” He seemed confused, pinching his nose. 

“Yeah. Robin’s birthday cake. I completely forgot.” She hit her forehead with the palm of her hand. “Silly me.” 

“Oh. Uh… yeah.” Steve’s disappointment was clear. 

“Good thing I remembered. Or else we would’ve made a huge mistake.” She laughed awkwardly. 

Steve stood up as well to put his shirt back on. “Mistake?”

Y/n turned back around once she was decent again. “Oh come on. We’re both very drunk. You know this wouldn’t have happened any other way.” 

Steve let out a huff, running his hands through his already messy hair. His jaw ticked, refraining from saying anything else. No longer aroused, he buckled his belt and stormed past her out of his room. 

It was three in the morning when Steve kicked out the last guest. Y/n and Robin were the only ones left, cleaning up all the trash around the house. Steve walked into the living room where they were giggling. And almost immediately, the energy shifted. They fell silent as he stood there, hands on his hips. 

“I’m going to take a shower and go to bed. I made sure the guest room is ready.” He didn’t allow a response before he turned on his heels and left the room. 

Robin waited until she heard his door shut from upstairs before opening her mouth. “Jeez. What’s his deal?” 

“Who knows?” Y/n shoved a handful of trash into a bag, a bit too aggressively. 

Robin eyed her for a moment, rolling her eyes. “Jesus, you two hooked up, didn’t you?” 

She almost dropped what she was holding. Nevertheless, she tried to pretend not to react. “Not sure what you mean by that.” 

“Oh come on. You both disappeared for an unnatural amount of time and both came back looking like a hot mess. Also your shirt has been on backwards.” Robin smirked. She was smug and had been waiting for the perfect chance to finally say her deductions out loud. 

Y/n looked down, and sure enough her shirt had been backwards the whole time. Robin probably had noticed right away. Cheeky. “We didn’t hook up. We only…” She couldn’t find the right words. 

“Canoodled?” Robin wiggled her brows. 

Y/n threw an empty cup at her, and although she was embarrassed, she felt a laugh come up. “You’re sick, you know that?” 

The brunette shrugged. “You’re sick for hooking up with our friend on my birthday.”

“Your birthday isn’t until Monday.” 

Robin pointed at her. “That’s a technicality.” 

She rolled her eyes, looking up at the ceiling, trying to imagine what Steve was doing. “I think I hurt his feelings.” 

Robin sighed, making Y/n wonder about their conversation earlier in the night when her and Steve had talked about Y/n and Mike. Had Robin been in-between the whole time? “He’ll get over it.” 

She frowned and shook her head. “No, this time it was different. I said it was a mistake.” 

Her friend looked up to the sky, mouthing the words “Just kill me now.” She let a beat go by. “You two are ridiculous. It’s like cat and mouse with feelings. First you think he doesn’t like you, then he doesn’t think you like him, and then you do whatever the hell you did tonight and you still think he doesn’t like you. Everyone in a two-mile radius can tell you like one another. Hell, people in Illinois can tell. Should we tattoo it on both your foreheads? ‘I have a big fat crush on Dingus one’ and ‘I have a big fat crush on Dingus two’?” 

“Thanks, Robin. You know how to cheer a girl up.” Y/n’s mouth drooled with sarcasm. 

“I’d die for the two of you, but I can only take so much.” She clutched her heart dramatically. 

Y/n didn’t answer, ashamed, a sheepish expression painted on her face. And it all felt obvious what she needed to do and say. She could go upstairs right now and make everything okay between her and Steve. But, she was too stubborn and instead planned on forgetting what had happened that night. 

***

Trying to forget what had happened only lasted a week before she waltzed into Family Video on her break the next Friday. Steve was behind the counter helping the same blonde from Robin’s birthday party. She had giggled at something Steve had said, reaching out and straightening his vest. 

He looked over at the door, his face fell at the sight of his new customer. He turned his attention back to the blonde, and Y/n could hear him say, “Have a good day.” The girl looked disappointed when she had turned around, leaving the store. It was only the two of them. But why did it feel like there was so much noise going on? 

Steve watched her stand there for a few seconds until he decided to act busy. LIke she was another customer. 

She sighed and came up to the counter. “H-hi.” 

Steve turned his back to her. “Hello, welcome to Family Video. How can I assist you?” 

“Steve.” She was exasperated and wanted to get straight to the point. 

He turned around, pretending to be shocked. “Oh! Y/n, didn’t realize it was you.” He looked at his watch. “Robin doesn’t work today. There’s a basketball game.” 

“I know. I came to see you.” She lifted a paper sack in her hand, placing it on the counter. He had moved his head slightly, allowing her to catch the fading bruise on his neck. Her cheeks burned when she realized what it was. “I- I brought you lunch.” 

Suddenly, she felt like she was back in that classroom when he had asked for a pencil. The months of getting comfortable around him had vanished, and all words were stuck on her tongue, unable to escape. “I already ate lunch.” 

He was lying and she knew he was. He turned back around, ignoring her again. She felt the anger rise, she violently grabbed the sack, throwing it loudly in the trash can by the door. Just as she was about to leave, her hand on the handle, she took a deep breath. “I know I hurt your feelings, but that gives you no right to be mean to me.” She turned around. 

He was no longer messing with anything but he still faced the opposite way. She chose to continue, “I came here to make things okay. To tell you I’m sorry.”

“Sorry for what you said or sorry for kissing me?” 

She groaned in frustration, putting her palms on her temples, rubbing them. She didn’t want to lose her cool, but he was making it painfully hard. “Of course I’m not sorry for kissing you-”

He snapped around. “But you still think it was a mistake, right?” 

She opened her mouth but quickly closed it, clenching her jaw. A tear betrayed her, rolling down her cheek. “Do you know why I first started to like you?” 

He folded his arms across his chest, motioning for her to continue. 

“I liked you because the first thing I learned was that you cared about others before yourself. It might sound silly, because it is, but when I was five years old, you kissed me after making me cry. This entire time I had just thought I liked you in school because you were Steve Harrington. You were cute and I couldn’t help but feel butterflies when you asked me for a pencil in seventh grade because there was a sparkle that shone in your stupid brown eyes. But I also thought that’s all it was, a school crush that I wouldn’t even remember in twenty years.

“But then you had to get a job here and make me realize how that guy in school wasn’t as selfish as everyone made him out to be. I saw it every time you made sure to be at the counter when Mrs. Higgins came in because you know she doesn’t like me. I saw it every time Dustin came around and you made sure he wasn’t in trouble. I saw it every time you came to my work and brought me lunch when I never asked you to.” She wiped the flood pouring down her face, trying to keep it together. 

Steve’s face had fallen but he continued to stand there frozen. 

She let out a sob, her lip quivered, looking at the ground so he couldn’t see her puffy eyes. “No, I don’t think kissing you was a mistake. I was only afraid because although the more I got close to you, and the more I liked you, the more I considered you a friend. And it felt like we were just hooking up. So it felt wrong.” She looked up at him, sniffling. “I’m sorry.��� She gave him a half-hearted smile and left the store.

She began her walk back to the office, which wasn’t that far from the store. She had only gotten a few feet away when she heard the bell hastily ring, and hurried footsteps pounded against the pavement behind her. “Wait! Y/n!” 

She wiped more tears on her sleeve, pushing back the lump in her throat when she turned around. His hair was disheveled and eyes red. “You didn’t give me a chance to talk.” His voice was softer than earlier. More careful, trying not to upset her. He brushed his thumb over her cheek. “I made you cry again.”

“I-it’s okay,” she mumbled.

“No, it’s not. I let my pride get in the way.” He licked his lips. “You were wrong.”

“What?” She was unsure what he meant. 

Hesitant, he took her hand in his, looking at it and then back up at her. “What happened wasn’t a hook-up to me. I had been trying to ask you out for weeks but I thought you might have moved on. And when we were in my room at the party I couldn’t help but notice the moon made you glow. You looked beautiful, and I couldn’t help but finally kiss you.” He let out an awkward chuckle. “I definitely got carried away.” 

She smiled shyly. “You tried to ask me out?” She gasped, eyes wide, and covered her face. “Oh my god. That’s why you asked to go to the drive-in. You wanted it to be a date.” 

He laughed at her reaction, nodding. “Don’t worry. I was a little rusty. You make me nervous.” 

She smirked, poking him in the chest. “What? I make Steve Harrington nervous?” 

He rolled his eyes, but grinned cheekily nonetheless. “Can you blame me? I did just admit how pretty I think you are.”

There was a beat as they locked eyes. He reached out and put his hand on the side of her face, stepping closer, parting his lips as his face neared hers. 

However, she stopped him. She raised her brows and let a smug smile appear. “You’re going to kiss me even though you haven’t asked me on a date yet?” 

Flabbergasted, Steve laughed in disbelief. “Seriously?”

She took a step back and crossed her arms. Mimicking what he did to her earlier. 

He sighed and stood up straight. He then cleared his throat dramatically. “Y/n, would you do me the honor of accompanying me to a nice dinner tomorrow night?” 

She gave him a toothy smile, giggling. “I’d be very delighted.”

“Pick you up at seven?” He asked. 

She nodded. “Perfect.”

“Okay, then I guess I’ll see you then.” Steve took her hand, placing a soft kiss. He gave her a sweet goodbye before he turned around to go back to the store which probably had been left unoccupied for too long. 

She looked at her watch, seeing that she still had fifteen minutes left of her break. Smiling to herself, she chased after Steve, tapping him on the shoulder before he reached the door. He turned around, brows furrowed, probably wondering if she had forgotten something. 

She grabbed him by the vest, pulling him towards her, their lips crashed against one another. He was shocked at first. However, he melted when her lips started to push and pull against his. His hand wrapped around to the small of her back, the other on the back of her neck, pulling her closer. 

And they both felt like they were floating in the air. To her, it was like that random Tuesday in December, where her stomach fluttered and her heart pounded against her chest. It felt surreal. It was more than she had imagined.

[stvharrngton]

a lesson in romantics; lesson one

summary: a multi-part series where reader is the new art teacher at hawkins high and the history teacher, mr. harrington, takes a shine to the new girl. mutual pining ensues on their road to love 🥀

a/n: so here's the first part to the series! i hope you all enjoy <3 it takes place in the early 90s where steve and reader are in their mid-late twenties. disclaimer: i have very limited knowledge on the american school systems or how they work lmao so i'm sorry if it comes across as british-y sometimes but i'll do my best to be as authentic as possible :^) also special shoutout to @inkluvs who originally gave me this idea 1635272 years ago and @onceuponaoneshot who inspired me to actually start writing it hehe

characters: steve harrington x fem!reader, robin buckley

word count: 1.3k

warnings: none, just some introductory stuff, steve being a flirt

taglist: @inkluvs @dukesmebby @sweetbabygirlsworld @kennedy-brooke

SERIES MASTERLIST

HAWKINS, FALL, 1992

September. Fall semester.

A new town. A new school.

Hawkins’ newest resident and Hawkins High newest teacher. You’d spent the last month settling into your new home - a small apartment, nothing extravagant but it was enough for you.

You looked forward to the new start, to get back into the classroom. You loved to teach but the prospect of a new bunch of kids always made you a little nervous.

Making your way into the teacher’s lounge, you quietly said your hello’s to the fellow teachers you had met at orientation a couple days earlier. You silently went about making your morning coffee when a bickering pair burst through the door, a petite girl with a dirty blonde bob who you vaguely recognised as the music teacher and a taller guy, with pretty brown hair and a patterned tie slung around his neck.

You caught his eye as you turned to see the source of the disturbance, a soft but cheeky smile donning his lips. He struggled to keep up whatever conversation he was having with the girl he strolled in with as he finally tore his eyes away from you. 

The blonde followed his eyeline to you, she smirked followed by a roll of her eyes. She swatted your mystery co-worker on the chest, followed by a hushed, “Steve! Are you even listening to me?”

He wasn’t. She knew he wasn’t. But at least your mystery co-worker had a name now. 

Steve. It suited him.

“You’re such a boy.” She groaned, waving him off before going off the mingle with some of the other teachers.

Steve responded with a laugh as he swanned his way over to the kitchenette where you were stood. “First day?” he asked calmly as he grabbed his regular mug from the cupboard above your head.

“Oh, uh, yeah—“ you stammered, caught a little off guard. 

“Shit,” he muttered under his breath, “I never even introduced myself. I’m Mr. Harrington. History.” He said with much more candor, holding his hand out for you to shake.

You accepted the hand shake, making a mental note at how much bigger his hand was than yours. “I teach art.” You said, after telling him your own name, “Am I supposed to call you Mr. Harrington, then?”

Any confidence and swagger he was sporting crumbled, his cheeks flushed with a pink tinge, “I’m such an idiot,” he confessed with a chuckle, fingers combing through that pretty brunette hair, “I’m Steve. You can call me Steve.”

“Nice to meet you, Steve.” You grinned, a toothy smile that made Steve’s heart thump in his chest. A smile he would be thinking about for days to come.

“Well, I better get going. Minds of the youth to shape and all that but I’ll see you around, yeah?” Steve said, grabbing his coffee cup as he gestured to the door that led to the school halls. 

“Sure,” you nodded, tucking a stray strand of hair behind your ear, grabbing your own warm flask. You couldn’t help but let your tummy go all fuzzy at Steve’s kindness, a smile creeping its way onto your lips.

“Have a good first day, newbie.” Steve joked with a wink before he called out to his friend as he walked out the door, “Buckley! Are you coming or what?”

~

“You’re crushing on the new art teacher, aren’t you?” Robin blurted out.

Steve cursed his best friend under his breath, thanking whatever God was up there that school was yet to start and the hallways were empty. 

“I’m in my late twenties Robin, I don’t get crushes.” Steve waved her off, “I mean, sure, she’s pretty cute but besides, we’ve only exchanged two sentences.”

“Oh, come on, Harrington!” Robin chortled, hand on her stomach as she bellowed in the hallway, “That has never stopped you before.”

“Now you’re just being ridiculous,” Steve hushed the girl with a roll of his eyes, “anyway, why didn’t you say hi to her? Not very nice of you, Buckley.” 

Steve desperately tried to get the attention off of himself, his free hand perched on his hip as he brought his mug of coffee to his lips. His eyes narrowed at Robin over the rim. Like always though, it never worked. His friend far too persistent for his liking.

“Because, dingus,” her tone exasperated now, “I met her at orientation. You know, the thing you didn’t bother showing up for?”

They arrived at the door to Steve’s classroom which was one block over from Robin’s. He groaned audibly at Robin’s comment, “Come on, Robs! I told you I had a migraine,” he muttered as he fished his keys from his pocket, “you know, years of head trauma takes a toll on the ol’ noggin.”

“Yeah, yeah,” she began to turn on her heel to make her way to her own classroom, “it was your loss anyway, Stevie,” Robin teased, a playful undertone to her voice, “‘cause she looked way cuter the other day.”

Steve scoffed at the younger girl, simply not giving her a response, before he closed his classroom door behind him. He slumped in his desk chair as he wondered to himself how he was going to get through the day without his thoughts trailing to you and your smile.

~

You’d never been so glad to hear the bell ring in your life. You enjoyed your first day, sure, but it was a little overwhelming to say the least. A lot of new faces and names to learn and remember, a thick new syllabus you had to preach to these kids.

A sigh of relief fell from your lips as you gathered your things and locked your classroom door behind you. As you made your way towards the teachers parking lot, you dug through your purse for your car keys as you fell face first into someone’s firm body.

It was like a scene out of a movie. The papers and books that were clutched in your arms went flying across the hallway, your purse and the contents of it spilled all over the floor. A total cliche. 

A string of curses tumbled from your lips as you apologised over and over to whoever it was you bumped into. You both knelt to the ground to gather your things when you finally looked into the eyes of who it was.

A pretty set of brown eyes were staring back at you with a coy smile on the lips of their owner. You could only laugh back at him.

Of course it was Steve. 

“I’m sorry,” you giggled, scooping up the stray papers, “I’m a total klutz.”

“Don’t sweat it,” he reassured you, handing you back what he had gathered of yours, “I wasn’t looking where I was going.”

“Right.” You nodded.

You stood back up, papers and car keys safely in hand now. Steve placed his hand on your shoulder, giving you a light squeeze, “You good?”

Plunging the butterflies in your stomach back down to their depths, you squeaked out a reply, “Yeah, yes. Thank you for not getting mad at me.” 

“You kidding?” Steve asked all shocked, tone light and playful, “Can’t get mad at the new girl on her first day. That wouldn’t be very ‘nice and welcoming co-worker’ of me, would it?”

You giggled as you nodded, eyes darting to the floor, unable to meet Steve’s inviting gaze. You gestured to the nearby door with your car keys in hand, “Well, I better get going.”

“Oh! Right, yeah, of course—“ Steve stuttered, waving you off as you made your way to the door, “Hey! A bunch of us get together at a bar downtown after the first Friday of the semester if you wanna join us?”

“Oh, um,” you pondered, “I guess that could be fun.”

“Great,” Steve spoke, “I’ll get you the address. See you tomorrow?”

You nodded as you felt a blush creep on your cheeks. It wasn’t a date. It was not a date, you knew that, but you couldn’t help but wonder what Mr. Harrington would look like in casual clothes.

“You betcha.”

[sheisjoeschateau]

"...at the Chateau, we'll be alright."

Steve Harrington x Jonathan Byers x fem!reader A crossover au inspired by Saltburn and Call Me by Your Name. Additional inpso from Joe's college theater performance as in Spring Awakening.

Song Inso: "Chateau" by Djo

Strangers to best friends to lovers. Slowburn. Angst, angst, angst. Fluff, fluff, fluff. Hurt/comfort. Romance, with polyamory themes and schemes. Smut with hella plot.

Summary: The reader lives with her parents at a fancy chateau, in France.  This year, her father offers their home as a housing sanctuary to a select student or graduate.  He decides to invite two graduate students to live with their family over the summer, coming from different working class backgrounds, and help with their academic paperwork as a professor of archaeology.

Steve Harrington: a rich kid from a swanky boarding school with a bad boy reputation and too much charm for his own good.  Surprisingly, his grades say otherwise.  A’s and B’s, his parents claim that is seeking one-on-one tutoring so that he can progress in his studies — but it sounds more like an excuse to ship him off for longer periods of time, giving them an out for having their son around during the summer.  The pretty boy’s all about ladies…but that’s only because he hasn’t met a boy who awakens his bisexuality.  Yet.

Jonathan Byers: a kid from the lower working class, excelling in his studies and AP programs at the same boarding school as Steve which he only got into because of community sponsorship and grants.  Quiet wallflower, little to no friends, a bit cynical.  A closeted gay, he’s more determined to stick with being perceived as “ace” than come out of the closet.  Until he goes to stay at a chateau with a handsome boy, and a beautiful girl who understands him.

Twists, turns and terrifying risks, you all put your hearts on the line that summer at the Chateau. Add the reader's cousin Eddie into the mix, along with her best friend Robin, Steve's ex-girlfriend Nancy, Jonathan's estranged mother and your progressive parents alongside Steve's absent parents -- it's a cruel summer.

But here, together at the chateau, you'll be alright.

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊ ⋆SNEAK PREVIEW⋆ ⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆ This will be another series of mine, dedicated to my boy. Coming soon.

[excerpt from the story]

There was something about the way you twirled in your sundress that reminded Steve of the bible.

He wasn't religious, nor did he think any god truly loved or believed in him. But here, watching you exist in your garden of eden at the Chateau, the good book almost seemed real.

You resembled something otherworldly.  Heavenly, sent straight from above.  Innocent, yet wise.  Kind, yet strong.  Powerful and delicate at the same time.  Your laugh was soft, feminine and pure.  Your spirit was whole.  Your smile blinded him with joy.  Your beauty was divine, angelic and overwhelming.  You were too much…and yet, you could never be enough.

But that wasn’t because you yourself weren’t enough.  No, rather it was because Steve would never be able to get enough of you.  He could never be close enough.  He could never be near you enough.  He could never tell you enough words that would accurately describe the way that you made him feel.  

The word ‘enough’ simply did not apply when it boiled down to you.  

And yet, as Steve swept you up into his arms — discarding his books and his education down onto the lawn, much more driven to study you — holding you felt like that was all that he would ever need for his life to be considered enough.  The feeling of your waist in his grasp, his strong arms circling your petite torso as your hair flew in the wind of the circle he spun you in, felt like a tornado.  A cyclone, sweeping you both off your feet so that it could take you far away from everything and everyone.  You were this fragile flower in his hands, yet unbreakable.  Real, but too good to be true.  A true story, but a fairytale of the mind.

Jonathan saw you this way — but from a more niche, almost platonic point of view.  It was just as codependent, yet approached with more independence and the ability to exist on his own two feet.  He’d do whatever it took to keep you, no matter what the hell that took.  And he knew that to some degree, a pretty scary degree, that he needed you too.  But he was content with the need.  Satisfied, at peace.  Completely grounded, secure.  Unlike Steve, who smiled out of fear and loved with his whole heart on the line.  Because Byers knew how to be alone.  He knew how to rely on himself, fill his own cup even when it was empty — which was all the time.  Byers was the epitome of “I walk alone.”  The human embodiment of solitude.  He preferred your company, your grace and your presence.  It made him better, and stronger — because he’d known prior how to operate without it.

Harrington didn’t.  Harrington needed someone, all the time.  As an only child, the loneliness had suffocated him in his big house with no parents.  He’d had no one to shush the nightmares away, no one to hold him whenever the monsters felt near.  No one to run to and trust with any secret that he had.  No true friend who would listen to his most intrusive thoughts without casting him away.  No girl that wanted him in the ways that he so desperately sought to be loved, not just lusted after.  Until you came along, sheltering him from all his deepest and darkest fears, childhood traumas and the ever-looming possibility of rejection.  He had been a threat to himself, and you put that threat to rest with just a soft brush of your lips against his knuckles and the touch of your tender hands.  

Whereas with Byers, you made him feel seen but not disturbed.  You allowed him to be present without needing to overcompensate.  You granted him refuge, earning his trust with your actions instead of your words.  He didn’t need your touch to calm him.  Rather, he felt steadied by just knowing that you were here.  You knew that touch was never a friend to Jonathan, which is why you never pushed yourself in.  Instead, he found himself drawn to you.  He didn’t recoil at the physical contact made between the two of you.  A hug, a warm embrace that lingered just an extra second or two.  A gentle squeeze of a hand as you shot him a wistful smile.  The most feather-like of kisses pressed to his cheek to say hello, good morning, good evening or goodnight.  It felt…nurturing.  Assuring, fostering.

Out on the outstretched lawn in front of the Chateau, acreage upon acreage, Jonathan watched your hair gleam underneath the golden glow of the setting sun.  He let the Marlboro in his mouth dangle between his teeth, the curriculum resting upon his lap as the scent of nicotine and fresh air filled his senses.  The mixture of it was perfect for the scene laid out before him: Steve spinning you around, his white collared shirt unbuttoned just enough to wear his tie swung in the breeze as he continued swirling you around like a princess.  And when he’d placed you back onto your feet, he peppered every single inch of your face with an obscene amount of stolen kisses as you giggled like the darling that you so effortlessly are.  Jonathan felt his lips tug upwards at the corner, unable to help himself when it came to the two of you.  His shoulder angel and shoulder devil.

He turned the page of his literature books, revealing his unfinished letter that he’d begun writing at lunch in response to his mother.  Joyce had written to him, asking him to tell her everything about the summer.  How was it in France?  What was it like?  Were the hosts kind, was he being polite towards them?  What about you?  Were the two of you getting along, as well as the other student?

Jonathan glanced up from his scribbled cursive, back at the two of you.  Steve was cupping your cheek, placing a flower in your hair with his free hand before moving to cup your other cheek so that he was cradling your face.  His perfect, sharp nose nuzzled to the tip of yours sweetly.  Jonathan felt his heart swell as the two of you turned to look at him with pure love.  Your arms stretched out towards him, along with Steve’s, beckoning him.  Come play with us.  He grinned at you both wholeheartedly, holding up a hand — which you both knew meant he would, just a little longer.  You’d all learned each others’ love languages by now, along with how to communicate through gestures and expressions.  Body language was all of your specialty, in a multitude of ways that no one else could ever possibly understand.  Jonathan didn’t mind that.  It was only meant for the three of you.

Flicking his cigarette, he glanced back down at the incomplete letter he was ready to finish writing for his mother.  He took his pen, letting the ink spill onto the parchment. He'd already written down things earlier, telling her that your parents had taken them in as their own. He wrote about how much your father made him adore his studies in ways he never had before, and how he'd been inspired to help Steve study alongside him as an assistant tutor of sorts. He wrote to her about an Aperol spritz had somehow become the drink of the summer, using fresh citrus from the gardens of your estate, and how it made uncharacteristically sappy. How you and Steve made him that way too, even without the poison coursing through his veins.

Something about them makes me feel like I can, Mom.  I keep asking myself if this all just a dream.  Or maybe, it’s the past?  Not sure.  Either way, just thought I’d ask.  Not because I am seeking the answer, from you or the universe.  Rather, I’m simply existing and letting it all just happen.  C’est la vie.  I know…so very French. Perhaps I'm running a fever. A lovesick sort of fever.

Jonathan grinned down at his writing with wry amusement at himself.  At his life.

He turned over his shoulder, glancing back at the majestic chateau behind him.  Chateau Chalamet.  Your childhood home. His new home, as of that summer…which was dwindling away, day by day.  Every day that passed meant that he had less time.  All of you were losing time.  He sighed, resuming his writing.

I’ll turn back the time whenever this all ends.  In my mind, this will always be a home away from home.  Which is something I never thought I would say.  I’m not really sure what my future holds.  But it doesn’t really concern me at the moment. Now right now. Right now, I'm at the chateau and I feel alright. Love, Jonathan

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆

[certifiedlovergirlsstuff]

The Battle of Starcourt Mall

pairing: steve harrington x female byers!reader

WC: 6.8K

warnings: cursing, blood. think that’s it…

summary: the final boss level

A/N: ALL PARTS UNDER THE TAG -The Byers Harrington Story-

so what i’ve decided to do is stop this chapter after the fire and since the last like ten minute take place three months later i’ve decided to use that for my in betweens. kinda weird ik BUT THIS IS MY FIC I DO AS I PLEASE!!!!

@alecmores​ 🫶🏻 the best proofreader

series masterlist / steve harrington

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It was a scene from a horror movie.

Tears of blood dripped from El’s nose as she continued her wails of pain, her screams filling the empty mall. Beneath the skin of her injured leg, something squirmed restlessly. It pushed at her flesh, trying to break to the surface and it was only making her cry and squeeze Mike’s hand tighter.

“What is that?” Erica leaned in for an inspection. “There’s something in there.” Was Mike’s simple answer. 

El screamed higher, “No!” “Jesus Christ,” A mutter from Dustin’s lips.

Jonathan pushed off the floor and talked over El’s vocals, “Keep her talking. Keep her awake, okay?” And he ran off to the food court.

El’s chest was panting slower and her eyes blinked slowly a few times. Mike started to shake her shoulder, “Hey, hey, hey. Stay awake, stay awake.” He looked to Dustin for assistance, “Let’s get her on this side, on this side.”

Nancy and Steve rushed to aid their help, El now leaning her back on Mike’s chest. “You know, it’s not actually that bad,” Robin spoke for the first time after five minutes, a new record for her. “There was a… The goalie on my soccer team, Beth Wildfire, this other girl slid into her leg and the bone came out of her knee. Six inches or something, it was insane.” Everyone’s eyes were on her, wondering why she was telling this story.

“Robin,” Steve called her. “Yeah?” She breathly exhaled as she looked at him. “You’re not helping.” “I’m sorry.”

You looked up when Jonathan came rushing back, his sneakers squeaking on the polished tiles. He held a kitchen knife and a wooden spoon in his left hand. “Okay. Alright, El?” A courtesy question. “This is gonna hurt like hell, okay?”

Her sobs shook her petite frame, “Okay,” Wrapped in snot and tears.

“Need you to stay real still.” He used the calm adult voice that he pulled on you and Will if either of you got hurt. He slipped flimsy prep gloves on his dormant hand. “Here, you’re gonna want to bite down on this okay?” Passing the spoon into Mike’s outstretched hand and he placed it between her teeth as she bit hard.

Jonathan held the knife and lowered it slowly to the wound. “Holy shit. Holy shit.” Dustin repeated as Jonathan sank the sharp point into her infected wound. Her screams were still loud even with her mouth muffled. 

“I’m gonna be sick,” Talking to yourself with sweaty hands holding the queasiness inside. Steve’s larger stature blocked the gruesome sight from your tired eyes. A hand pushing your face into his chest. The noises, El’s screams, and sobs mixed with everyone’s gasps or whines echoed in your eardrums. You couldn’t see what was happening after the cut was made, but it wasn’t any better. Nancy screamed Jonathan’s name and he yelled back, “Stop talking! God damn it!”

Then El’s cracked and tired voice, “No! Stop it!” Grunts followed with a whimper, “I can do it.”

You moved your head when everything grew silent. You were still tucked into Steve as you watched El sit up and stretched out her right arm over the bleeding wound. Her arm shook from all the energy that was being spent from her, all eyes watching as she hurt herself. Her screams grew in volume as the unknown was wiggling away from her telepathic grasp. They grew loud in frustration that the lights flickered and the glass from Levi’s display shattered to pieces, Steve turned your body away from the specks.

With some more steam power, El was able to grip the unknown and tug it out of her body. It was a small thing, almost looking like charred flesh as she held it in front of her face. With a grunt she threw it a foot away, all of you just watching as it slowly crawled further away. No one made a move to finish the job as you were all stunned when Hopper stomped a giant black boot hard into the creature.

And there stood an odd trio. Joyce, Hopper, and some bushy-bearded balding man (who was dressed in some short shorts) you didn’t know.

Only took one minute max before your brain kicked into gear. You untangled yourself from Steve’s protective hold and took one, two, three hesitant steps as you croaked, “Mom?” She moved away from the taller men and you rushed forward into her open arms. You almost knocked her over with the force of missing her touch and gentle pets.

“Oh, my sweet girl.” She shushed you and held you tight. Salty tears webbed your lashes together and marked her flannel top. You almost worried she was a mirage, a figment of your tired and bruised brain to keep you calm in a stressful moment. But she was real, you could tell by the way she held you tighter and tucked her face into your neck.

“I’ve missed you.” A whispered confession. “I’ve missed you too, honey. I’ve missed you too.”

Her hands grabbed your upper arms and pulled you away, motherly touches pushed loose hair and flyaways. Her palms cupped your cheeks like you were fine china as she examined your Russian party gifts. “What happened to my beautiful girl?

Your bottom lip wobbled as you joked, “Russian bullies. It’s been a long day, Mom.” Her open brown eyes started to gloss over with wet tears and you couldn’t have that. So you jumped to ask, “Where- Where have you been? And-” You looked over her shoulder to look at the unknown man beside Hopper, “-Who is that man?”

Her tangled curls swung with the motion of her head while peeking at the men and then back to you, “Oh, uh… Also Russian stuff.” You couldn't help the high raise of your mouth as you sputtered, “Wh-What? More Russians?”

“Uh…Why don’t we all go sit down? All of us and just go over everything.”

-

“The Mind Flayer built this monster in Hawkins, to stop El, kill her, and pave a way into our world,” Mike spoke with his hands while giving the simple details of the events leading up to tonight for their group. Nancy also pitched in, “And it almost did. That was just one tiny piece of it.”

Everyone congregated by the turned-off fountain, standing in a circle. Hopper and El sat on the wooden bench beside the structure as he held a wet paper towel to her forehead and she sipped quietly on her straw. Joyce sat next to her as she rewrapped the wound closed. And even though you knew the time wasn’t right for couple displays, you couldn’t help but sink into Steve’s arms as he held you to his chest. His chin rested at the crown of your head as you held his hands in their infinity hold.

“How big is this thing?” Hopper asked. His eyes checked over El as Jonathan answered “It’s big. Thirty feet, at least.”

“Jesus,” You whispered just imagining something that huge. Probably takes up the whole space of the mall where you’re all talking. “It sorta destroyed your cabin,” Lucas tacked on. You heard the deep sigh from Hopper and Lucas’, “Sorry.”

“Okay, so, just to be clear,” Steve’s chest vibrated into your back with his talking, “This… This big fleshy spider thing that hurt El, it’s some kind of gigantic…weapon?” Your scalp tingles from the movement of his chin.

“Yes,” Nancy replied quickly. Her features turned a bit annoyed and you wanted to get defensive with her. But Steve continued to ask his question about this…fleshy monster. “But instead of, like, screws and metal, the Mind Flayer made its weapon… with melted people.”

“Yes, exactly.” Her permed hair hits her face. You felt Steve shrug his shoulders, “Yeah, okay. I- Yeah, I’m just making sure.” He tugged you even closer into his body. You gave his hands three squeezes.

“Are we sure this thing is still out there, still alive?” Joyce questioned. “El beat the shit out of it,” Max pointed out, “But, yeah, it’s still alive.” Disappointed evident in her tone.

“But if we close the gate again-” “We cut the brain off from the body.” “And kill it. Theoretically.” Will, Max, then Lucas finished the single train of thought.

Everyone went quiet again. They were probably thinking of the next plan of action, the attack plan to bring the demon to the ground. You were just hearing white noise and staring blankly at all the different shoes as you tried to blanket Steve over you. You were so close to the end, you had to keep reminding yourself about that, it’ll be all over tonight and everything can go back to its relative normal.

A loud shout of, “Yoo-hoo!” Bounced in the empty space followed by paper rustling. Steve turned the both of you at an angle to see that the mystery man, Murray, was waving yellow papers in the air. He bypassed the group and stopped in front of the dining table as he slammed the papers down. He looked over his shoulder and frantically waved his arms while yelling, “Class! Over here! Over here!” And everyone internally groaned as you took the short trip.

You stuck near the back, Steve leaning over your shoulder as the both of you looked down at the lined paper to try and make sense of the drawing before your eyes.

“Okay, this is what Alexei called “the hub”.” You wanted to ask who this Alexei was but stayed quiet. “Now, the hub takes us to the vault room.” Murray slid his finger down the drawn path.

“Okay, where’s the gate?” Hopper inquired. Murray took a moment before, “Right here.” Pointing at a different section on the paper map. “I don’t know the scale on this, but I think it’s fairly close to the vault room, maybe fifty feet or so.” Dragging his pointer finger from end to end.

“More like five hundred.” Erica’s snarky voice stopped the adults as she walked toward them. “What, you’re just gonna waltz in there like it’s commie Disneyland or something?”

You noted the raise of Hopper’s brows at Erica’s tone and Murray vocally asked, “I’m sorry, who are you?” “Erica Sinclair. Who are you?” Sassying the bald man back. His expression was plain and simple as he said his first and last name.

“Listen, Mr. Bunman,” Purposely mispronounces his last name, “I’m not trying to tell you how to do things, but I’ve been down that shithole for twenty-four hours.” Turning away from Murray and directly looking into Hopper’s eyes, “And with all due respect, you do what this man tells you, you’re all gonna die.” Hopper’s brows scrunched in the middle.

You would say she’s exaggerating, but knowing what was down there, they didn’t know what they could be walking into. Their schematics were just based on one person’s view, not knowing the actual distance from room to room. So yeah, they would be in danger.

“I’m sorry, why is this four-year-old speaking to me?” “Um, I’m ten, you bald bastard!”

“Erica!” Both you and Lucas called for her to stop. Shocked by all this language she most likely learned from the boys. “Just the facts!” Defending herself to her brother.

“She’s right.” Dustin stepped beside her, taking her side. “You’re all gonna die, but you don’t have to. Excuse me. Sorry, may I?�� Pointing at Murray’s paper. The man flashed a sarcastic smile and shook his head with a, “Please,” Tacked on.

Dustin and Erica took a seat at the table, Dustin grabbing a pen from his pocket and pointing at a square box. “Okay, see this room here? This is a storage facility.” He circled it. “There’s a hatch in here that feeds into their underground ventilation system.” He then took the pen and drew a line to the over end of the paper, “That will lead you to the base of the weapon.”

“Wait, sorry.” Suddenly speaking up, eyes on you. “Was this where the two of you went when we got taken?” Just needed clarification. “Duh,” Was Erica’s only answer. “Okay. Continue.” Stepping into Steve’s chest, his arms thrown over your stomach.

“It’s a bit of a maze down there, but between me and Erica, we can show you the way.” Full seriousness in Dustin’s words as the two nodded together.

“You can show us the way?” The tone of voice he used was a mix of confusion and amusement. Two kids acting all high and mighty with more information than the adults. Dustin held a hand towards Hop, “Don’t worry, you can do all the fighting and the dangerous hero shit, and we’ll just be your… navigators.”

One nod of his head before a simple, “No,” fell from his lips. And this was exactly the reason you wanted Hopper to know about this from the beginning. “Nope.” A second confirmation at the two before he walked away. You were so happy you didn’t have to be the adult in the situation anymore.

Everyone split up into their different groups until it was time to fully split up. You, Robin, and Steve walked to Hut Sam. All of you hopped onto the counter, Robin with her legs crossed as she held her ankles and leaned her head to the wall. You and Steve sat near the end with your legs mindlessly kicking the air, Steve’s left hand in your grasp as you played with his fingers, specifically his marriage finger.

“Hey,” The single word ghosted your ear. At normal speed, you moved your attention away from his rough hand and moved your eyes onto his damaged face. Your right hand moved to touch the side of the swollen eye, the pads of your fingers touching him as if he was fine china. One wrong move and he’ll break into millions of tiny pieces. “Oh, my Stevie.”

He moved his head quickly so he could plant a lingering kiss on the heel of your hand before fully leaning into your touch. “I’m sorry. Again. For this.” He slipped two fingers under the hem of your shorts, his thumb sat on the scratchy material. 

“I forgive you.” At this point you truly do. It seemed no matter what you could have done, the horrors of Hawkins will always find a way to pull your group of family back into its pull. “I just… I just want you to listen to me. How I’m feeling when it comes to getting involved. Don’t disregard my feelings, you and I, along with everyone, have some sort of trauma they’ve taken from this. And you might hide it or joke about it, but you know I suffer because of it every day or night.”

Steve made sure he was looking directly into your eyes, his hand holding your thigh. “I know, I will. I got swept up in- in- I don’t even know. But if you need to, slap me, hit me, yell at me. Anything to make sure it gets through my thick skull, I don’t want to be the cause of your pain and sadness.”

Both of you sat in silence, hands touching any space of skin. You moved your hand from his cheek and used your thumb and index finger to hold Steve’s chin and pull him to you. It was a press of chapped lips before it moved to a slow dance that ended too short for comfort. Steve gave a quick peck before fully leaning away, a pleasant smile as he was bathed in the neon of pink and purple.

“Lovebirds!” Your heads snapped in the direction of the shout. Dustin waved a hand frantically and you both knew it meant there was a mission to be conducted. Steve moved first and grabbed your hand to pull you behind him. Dustin threw a set of keys that Steve was able to catch mid-air, “What’s this for?”

“Car out front,” Hopper stated. Dustin, Erica, and Robin were already heading in the direction of the front doors before the two of you caught up. You yelled, “See you later!” To everyone you were leaving behind.

Steve pushed the door open and then whistled, “Oh, man, now this… this is what I’m talkin’ about!” Excited about the open cruiser.

“Toddfather?” Robin questioned as the both of you spotted the license plate. You grimaced while walking to the passenger side. “Oh, screw Todd! Steve’s her daddy now.” He jumped into the driver's seat while you processed his words.

“Did you just talk about yourself in the third person?” “Did he just call himself daddy?” Robin and Erica are questioning your boy. You still needed to process the way Steve called himself daddy.

“Ew, gross. (Y/n), you better not be into that.” Robin whacked your shoulder from behind. You could only shake your head.

“All right, where are we going?” Steve turned the engine on. “Weathertop,” Dustin said over his shoulder. Steve turned in his seat, “Weather-what?”

“Just drive!” “Okay. Jesus!”

Steve threw his arm behind your seat and reversed the car before changing to drive and speeding out of the empty parking lot.

-

You weren’t sure how long the drives had been so far, but you know you’re far away from Starcourt now. The wind was wiping your sweaty hair into knots, smacking your eyes, and getting stuck in your mouth. Steve had a radio station turned to twenty, loud enough over the howling wind.

“Jesus, how far is this place, man?” Steve’s hands squeezed and loosened the leather steering wheel.

“Relax. We’re almost there.” Was Dustin’s only answer to Steve’s question. The older boy sighed and you noted the quick eye roll before he stepped hard down on the gas. Car going ninety in a sixty-five.

“Suzie must be pretty special, huh?” Robin shouted over the different sounds to talk to Dustin. “I mean, if you built this thing and lugged it all the way to the middle of nowhere just to talk to her?”

You turned in your seat, left side pressed to the leather so you could see everyone in the backseat. Robin is in the middle with the two kids on either side.

Dustin grinned at the mention of his Suzie. “I mean, nobody’s scientifically perfect, but Suzie’s about as close to being perfect as any human could possibly be.” And the sweet answer made you coo at the young ‘love’.

“She sounds made up to me,” Erica added her two cents. “Does she sound made up to you?” The words pointed at Steve then you.

“No, of course not!” Quickly saying your answer, even if you still weren’t one hundred percent. Steve stayed quiet as he looked your way and into the rearview mirror. As discreetly as you can, you backhanded his outer thigh.

“Why are you hesitating, Steve?” Dustin leaned forward. “I’m- I’m- I’m not! I’m not!” Shifting his hands, one on the wheel and the other in the air flinging about. “I think she sounds real. You know, totally, absolutely real.”

He looked your way and you widened your eyes to silently communicate, “Really?” Your scrutinizing of Steve’s words was shut off when Dustin shouted, “Left. Turn left.”

“There’s not a road here.” Nothing but fields of grass. But Dustin was insisting, “Turn left now!”

“Jesus! Hang on!” Steve’s right hand held your thigh as he turned the wheel sharply on his left. Everyone was thrown from the quick force and then jolted from the bumpy road and the wired fence the car drove through.

“Whoa! Henderson, where are we going?!” “Up!”

The radio song was fitting with the lyrics syncing to the situation. The car was going up a steep hill and it was slow as it got higher.

“Oh, Jesus!” “We’re not gonna make it!” Robin yelled in your ear. Steve pressed the gas to the floor. “Yes, we are. Come on, baby. Come on, baby!” And if you weren’t stressed your mind would have gone to places from the last few days.

When the car reached the peak the engine strained under the gravity and dirt. Steve stomped the gas pedal multiple times, “Come on! Come on!” Grunted under his breath. The tires just screeched from the revving. “Guess the Toddfather had its limitations.” A mindless comment as you looked toward Steve. And sighed then shut the car off.

Everyone hopped out of the car and trucked up the last couple of feet. Your thighs burned and chested huffed, never one for the exercise of any sort…well only the fun kind.

“I hate this. I hate this. I hate this.” Wasting your breath just to grumble your vendetta.

Two hands are pushed into your back to keep your feet moving forward. You already knew it was Steve but his comment, “Come on, baby. So close.” Cause shameless flutters in your lower stomach and you swore your knees almost collapsed.

“Sounds like you’re talking to the car…daddy.” A teasing grin painted your sweaty and flushed cheeks. You heard the scuff but knew Steve enjoyed it from the squeeze to your back.

“You guys are gross. There are children present. Me included.” Robin chided as she passed the both of you.

As you reached the tip top there stood the radio tower, Ceribro. Dustin sprites forward to grab the walkie. He held the side button down and called, “Bald Eagle, this is Scoops Troop, do you copy?” He released the button and there was nothing, he repeated the call. “Bald Eagle, I repeat, this is Scoops Troop, do you copy?” Steve quietly paced back and forth.

Just as Dustin was getting ready to repeat the code it crackled with “Yes, I copy.” You all chuckle with relief, everyone moving into a tight circle.

“Call sign?” Dustin asked. “Dude, you’re gonna annoy him.” Having noticed the tone of voice through the radio. But Dustin didn’t care and Murray called back with, “Bald Eagle.”

“Please repeat.” “Bald Eagle. This is Bald Eagle!” Murray shouted.

With a winning smile, “Copy that. Good to hear your voice, Bald Eagle. What’s your twenty?”

“We reached the vent. I’ll contact you when I need you. Until then, silence.” He must have been so happy about that.

“Roger that, Bald Eagle. This is Scoops Troop, going radio silent. Ten-Ten, over.” Steve patted Dustin’s shoulder as he stood up.

You walked to the side, separating just by a foot, lowering yourself to the ground. Pulling your knees up you wrapped your arms to hold them close as you plopped your forehead to your knees. You were so tired, mentally and physically. If you had the money you would look into people that you could talk to, vaguely, about everything. Maybe you could barge one from the government?

The sound of footsteps caught your attention, but you didn’t turn your head. You had a feeling it was Steve and he would know to give you a few minutes of quiet even if you wanted his presence.

You dropped your left hand into the grass, a silent gesture if he was paying attention. And he always was. A second later he slipped his hand under yours, palm to palm, and curled his fingers in. Neither of you said anything, not wanting to or needing to at this moment. Just enjoying each other, that was all you needed.

“We should do star gazing as a date night. What’d ya’ say?” Steve pulled your linked hands up and pressed three kisses to the back of your hand, two on your knuckles.

You turned your head, ear, and cheek pressed into the scraped skin of your knees. Steve leaned his head forward, hair flopping over his forehead and into his eyes. He didn’t bother pushing it away, he kept his loving gaze zeroed in on you. Wanting your opinion, a reaction, you weren’t sure, but you gave him both.

“Would you make it super romantic, lover boy?” Teasing smirk to your scratched and bloody features.

He rolled his eyes, “Duh. What kind of boyfriend do you take me as?” And it unintentionally felt like a loaded question. And you knew it was the aftermath of Nancy, he needed constant reassurance. Whether he made it obvious or not, you will always give it to him.

In an awkward shuffle, moving your knees and twisting your body, you now sat in front of Steve. You held your empty hand out and did a ‘give me’ motion and he happily dropped his other hand to you. Like he did earlier you kissed his knuckles, multiple times until you heard that sweet-deep chuckle. You love when you make him flustered.

“Steve Harrington,” A kiss to his index finger to punctuate his name, “You are the best boyfriend I’ve ever gotten. And! And I know what you’re gonna say, “You’ve never had a boyfriend”, first of all, that means nothing.” A kiss to his middle, “Second, and this might sound horrible if I can’t word this right, but… I’m happy Nancy got time with you first.”

His brows scrunched in the middle while he wore a small pout and he tilted his head like a lost puppy. “Uh… Yeah. Yeah, that doesn’t- It’s not bad! Just doesn’t make the most sense?” He ducked his chin to his chest.

“Stevie…” You added a squeeze to his hands so he would look at you again. “You know how you were in high school. A total douchebag with only a sliver of gold in his heart.” And he didn’t disagree. He just bit into his bottom lip as you continued. “When you were with Nancy after the whole thing happened. It’s like… you bumped your head. Nudge in the right direction for your emotional growth.”

“There’s a joke in there that I want to make, but I won’t for your sake.” Lips curling to stop a stupid boyish smile at an inappropriate joke. You just sighed, “No. Go on, oh funny one. Say it aloud.” Also excited to hear it.

“You’re my nudge for emotional growth.” “Oh! That’s- That’s so horrible! Just bad.”

Your giggles mixed as you leaned toward each other. When they died off and you both went quiet you couldn’t help as you whispered, “All the girls you’ve been with have made you the one I love. I get to see the real Steve Harrington. Every crack and jewel.”

His eyes softened while the ends of his lips turned up, “Another joke. But…That was…I love you.” A declaration as he moved his lips onto yours.

A pretty good star gazing date as you thought to yourself while smiling into Steve’s pink lips.

“Mr. and Mrs. Byers, we have a problem!” Robin shouted into the night. You dove in for one more lightning kiss before Steve pulled the both of you up and back to your group and the tower.

“What’s the problem?” Seeing how Dustin and Erica were listening intensely to the quiet radio and Robin had her arms crossed while biting at her thumb.

“There’s an emergency.” Erica relaid, in a nervous tone. That didn’t bode well for you. “Who's in trouble?”

Loud cracking from the walkie stopped any answer from them and heard the shout of “Scoops Troop, do you copy? We require evacuation! We’re trapped! Help!” And the line went dead. Loud roaring was the last thing heard over the transmission.

The shouting of Mike’s voice over the crackling comm sent chills down your spine and blood rushing through your veins from the animalist yell. When you looked back to the horizon with your eyes set on Starcourt, the lights were flickering. Just like that November day back in nineteen eighty-three, when you faced the Demogorgan.

“We gotta help them. We gotta go!” Shouting to everyone and mostly to yourself to kick you into gear. Beat-up converse carried you down the steep hill, almost tripping over yourself. Forgetting you didn’t hold the keys to the car, you yelled for Steve as you threw yourself into the driver's seat.

“Woah, hey I can-“ “Steve, just give me the damn keys!”

He stood for a second before sitting in the passenger, Robin tagging along in the back. The engine roared to life as you hightailed it back towards Starcourt.

-

“Is that-” “Billy’s Camaro.”

The Toddfather was waiting on the far side of the parking lot. The Wheeler’s hatchback was stationed in front of the mall and Billy’s car wasn’t too far away, the headlights beaming into the night. He was revving the engine, smoke billowing from the exhaust. Nancy stood like a waiting soldier, her arms held high as she held a gun, her aim steady.

“I need you guys to hold tight,” A quick command before you stepped down on the gas just as Billy launched forward, straight to Nancy and everyone. 

“(Y/n), I don’t think this is a good idea!” Robin’s shaky plea passed your ears. Knuckles turning white from your death grip, mentally preparing for the impact. Steve’s hand fell on your thigh and squeezed the flesh, his blunt nails digging into your skin. “Baby, this is a stupid plan! But I love you no matter what!”

“I love you too, Steve! No matter what!”

The nose of the cruiser crashed into the passenger side of the blue Camaro, the two spun out until you turned it to a stop with the wheel and brake. It was like a shot went off beside your ear, a loud ringing that drowned everything out. Your heart was beating out your chest, quick and swallow pants puffing from your lips.

“Is everyone okay?” Shakiness to each letter. From the whiplash, your neck ached as you slowly turned to face Steve. He too was panting from adrenaline with his eyes set forward, then he looked your way. He loosened the grip on your thigh, you didn’t even notice. “Please don’t ever drive again.” Joking to take away the severity of the moment, you just nodded in compliance.

“Robin? Alive?” “Ask me tomorrow?” A weak thumbs up to her question.

The moment of catching breaths was interrupted by the horrific roaring coming from the mall. All three of you pulled yourselves up and leaned forward for a better view. “Oh, shit!” Robin exclaimed at the giant fleshy monster that climbed on the roof of Starcourt. You wanted to vomit from all the different emotions running through you.

Honking from a car turned heads. Nancy leaned through the window and shouted, “Get in!” All of you hurried to the trunk, legs, and arms knocking into each other while being crammed into the small space. Steve, being the last one beside you, shouted for Jonathan to start driving.

With tires screeching on asphalt, you peeled out and back to the road. The monster followed, it was quick and slow in its steps, keeping you within sight but only a few steps behind even with the car going one hundred.

Your heart was beating in your ears as you kept your eyes locked on the flesh monster that was tailing the Wheeler wagon.

A loud static filled the car and then two voices followed. “Dusty-bun, do you copy?” “I copy, Suzie-poo. It sounds much better now, thanks.”

“Dusty-bun?” Steve couldn’t help but repeat the nickname that the very much real Suzie called him. And you couldn’t help but follow with, “Suzie-poo?”

“Okay, so, listen, do you Planck’s constant?” “Do you know the Earth orbits the sun?” And you heard Dustin snicker over the comm. It was cute, but not the right time.

“Okay, so I know it starts with two sixes, and then a… w-what is it?” “Okay, let me just be clear on this. I haven’t heard from you in a week, and now you want a mathematical equation that you should know so you can…save the world?” “Suzie-poo, I promise, I will make it up to you as soon as possible.”

There was a short lull and then she replied, “You can make it up to me now.” “What?” Dustin’s voice went serious. “I want to hear it.” And you weren’t sure if you wanted to hear it.

You could hear the slight panic in Dustin’s voice as he spoke back, “Not right now.” “Yes, now, Dusty-bun.”

“Suzie-poo, this is urgent.” You were getting sick of the nicknames. You looked at Steve and Robin, “What do you think she’s asking him to do?”

Steve shrugged, “Probably something nerdy and gross mixed.” Robin didn’t as Suzie radioed back, “Yes, yes, you’re saving the world, I heard you the first time, but Ged is also saving Earthsea and he’s about to confront the shadow. So this is Suzie, signing off.” Very stubborn in getting her way.

Dustin hurried in, “Wait, wait, wait! Okay. Okay.” His end went silent for about thirty seconds and then- “Turn around. Look at what you see. In her face, the mirror of your dreams.”

“Am I concussed?” The abrupt question fell from your dry mouth. “Are they singing?” Needing to know you weren’t the only one hearing this.

Robin and Steve shared a look before dumbly nodding their heads. You looked to the front of the car and everyone was quiet. You couldn’t see their faces, only Will’ since he was turned at an angle and you saw the clear look of confusion painted over his features. You wonder if Hopper and Murray were hearing this musical number.

And the monster was still chasing the station wagon.

Suzie and Dustin sang in sync until the final note, Dustin ending off with a giggle. “Planck’s constant is 6.62607004.”

“You just saved the world.” “Gosh, I miss you, Dusty-bun.” “And I miss you more Suzie-poo.”

“Ugh, gross. They sound just like you two. You’ve rubbed off on him, Harrington.” Robin groaned as her head hit the window.

Steve scuffed, “Me? Why just me? There are two of us in this relationship.” “Well, he is your best friend.” Teasing him with a smirk.

Steve shook his head and didn’t follow up with a comment, his eyes out the window then yelling to the group, “It’s turning around.”

“What?” Nancy and Jonathan look over their shoulders. “It’s turning around!” Steve repeated.

“Maybe we wore it out,” Lucas suggested. “I don't think so. Hold on.” And Jonathan wiped the wheel hard and headed back to the mall.

-

The car jolted to a stop. Every one climbed out and grabbed the boxes of fireworks from the roof, you led them to the back entrance and typed in the door code. A beeping noise prompted you to pull the handle and usher them inside.

“Okay, so the plan is to get to the second level, spread out, and start setting them off. Don’t stop for a second, just go.” Lucas huffed his idea to everyone.

By the time your group spread out, you with Robin and Steve to the far left, the mind flayer was in the middle of the mall. It’s looming figure looking down at Billy and El. The lights were flickering and flashing as it growled and groaned. There was a high-pitched hissed and a tentacle limb stretched forward.

Before it could reach El a firework was thrown and hit the monster in the back. You heard Lucas’ voice as he yelled, “Flay this, you ugly piece of shit!” It prompted everyone to start setting them off and throwing bombs.

“Hey, asshole! Over here!” Steve yelled before throwing his lit cannon. It fell into the creature's mouth and exploded. You and Robin threw your fireworks one after the other.

If it wasn’t such a scary situation, the private display was beautiful. The different colors and shapes brighten the already colorful mall. The roars are mixed in with the high-pitched singing of explosive powders.

Your throwing arm started to wear out quickly but you had to push yourself through the soreness setting in. You couldn’t see what was happening down below and didn’t know if El was safe or still in danger and out of reach for help. But you had to push that away, you were helping her in this moment, distracting the monster from attacking her.

It felt like hours but must have only been thirty minutes or so before you were out of fireworks. You started to panic when less light and noise filled the space. “Last two!” You yelled as you flung your lit stick forward.

Steve grabbed the walkie and radioed to Dustin, “Dustin! We’re out of time!”

A few more fireworks went off and then they stopped. The only sound was your heavy panting in your ears filled with the monstrous roaring of the flayer.

“What do we do? What’d we do!” You yelled at Robin and Steve. They both pant with open mouths and just stared at you and then at the floor below.

As you looked down you could barely make out Billy standing in front of El, keeping her blocked from view. The monster screeched and roared then shot its mouth limb towards El, but Billy stood in the way and took the talons. Two more attached to his sides before several more limbs dug themselves into his body. You could hear his screams.

And the screams of Max as she watched her shitty step-brother die before her eyes.

Little flames flickered from tiny fires on the bottom level. Everything was static and quiet until the flesh monster started to roar even louder if possible. It started to thrash, its body slamming into your side of the railing making Steve pull you into him as the both of you with Robin fell to the floor.

With one final roar, it collapsed to the floor before the lights stabilized and the fire engulfed its skin. It was over. The battle was over and won.

“Hey, hey. It’s okay, just breathe.” Steve whispered into your ear. You didn’t notice that you were shaking and breathing in shallow intervals, almost making you pass out. You clung to him tighter as you closed your eyes and inhaled his scent which was mixed with sweat and gunpowder.

With the quiet lull of silence followed multi and fast footsteps that carried voices shouting over each other. Steve pulled the both of you from the floor and looked over the bent railing with Robin at your side. Dozens of soldiers with guns raised caused your heart to spike, was it more Russians?

But when they started shouting commands in English you knew you were safe. Everyone was evacuated from the building and led to the ambulances waiting outside for all of you to get checked. You and Steve for sure needed it the most.

You waited beside Steve as the nurse was looking over his face and gave him some meds for pain. They walked away to check on the others leaving the two of you alone. Steve threw one side of his blanket over your shoulder and pulled you close.

“I love you. So fucking much.” He muttered into your hair. You wrapped your arms around his stomach and held him gently. “I love you too. Out of this world much.” You felt his body move with a laugh, “Not a competition…but I would win.” And you laughed but didn’t retort back.

Your eyes flitted to the chaos of moving bodies. Three different groups of workers dressed in uniforms mixed. In a small opening you saw Will running towards someone and when you saw who he ran into tears started to sting your eyes.

Again that night, you pulled away from Steve and took off running to your mom and younger brother. “Mom!” You screamed into the night air.

Her head looked up and a teary smile spread across her face. They both opened their arms and you slithered into their warm embrace. “You’re alive. You’re alive.” A quiet mantra to yourself, she just squeezed tighter.

With your eyes open and over Joyce’s shoulder you could see El walking around. By herself and looking everywhere with confusion and worry screaming out in her body language, you pulled away from Joyce so you could look into her eyes and ask, “Where’s Hopper?” And she could only close her eyes and tiny whimpers fell from her lips.

He didn’t make it. El was alone once again.

Reluctantly you released your mom and walked to El. She was twisting her hands together anxiously, head swiveling in different directions. And you knew the person she was looking for wasn’t coming back for her.

“El…” Just saying her name and trailing off. She sniffled while turning your way, her eyes watery and bloodshot. She bit into her bottom lip and you could tell she was trying not to cry.

“Oh, sweetheart.” And she launched herself into your chest. Your arms take a second before holding her tight in your embrace. Her petite frame shook with rough cries and your skin tickled with the dropping tear drops falling from her eyes. You didn’t know what to say, you could only repeat, “Oh, sweetheart.”

-

taglist: @heartyhope / @preciousbabypeter​ / @dessxoxsworld​ / @piper3113 / @animiacorn​ / @burn1ngw00d​ / @drxwstxrkxy​ / @m-rae23​ / @noisyeggsmoneystatesman​ / @yournan69 / @thats-s0-ravenn​ / @ameliabs-world​ / @mayonesavegana​ / @gracella0709​ / @gengen64​ / @alecmores​ / @choclate32 / @stvrdustalexx​ / @redheadedfangirl​ / @agustdeeyaa​ / @yappydoo​ / @liberhoe​ / @hehehehannahthings​ / @ladybug0095​ / @sweeter-innocence-fics​ / @j-6o / @voteforevilthoughts​ / @harrysflowercrownrry / @ilovereadingfanfics / @sorrow-has-a-place-here​ / @80strashbag​ / @sunsumonner​ / @sweet1peach / @cierrajhill​ / @we-out- here-simping / @nix-rose-a / @x-theolivia​ / @stylesyourmine / @starkeylover /

*striked out means tumblr cant find you*

[the-queen-of-hell-666]

2023 Kinktober Masterlist

I'm so sorry for not posting like at all this year but it's been a very long and rough year and I will do my best to continue this month but if I miss a day it's because of writer's block or work but anyway here is my Kinktober masterlist and what I have planned for you all, my wonderful amazing readers! I hope you like the thigh clenching, panty soaking, jean tightening thrill of smut! I hope you enjoy!

Banners by: @vase-of-lilies​

Key: Fluff; 🌙 // Angst;  👿 // Smut; 🔥 // Dark; 🕸️

Day 1: Semi-Public (Rockstar!Eddie Munson x Drummer!Steve Harrington x Groupie!Fem!Reader) 🔥 Day 2: Stepcest (Stepbrother!Ransom Drysdale x Stepsister!Fem!Reader)🔥🌙👿 Day 3: Size Difference (Beefy!Bucky Barnes x Petite!Fem!Reader) 🌙🔥 Day 4: S&M (Masochist!Eddie Munson x Sadist!Fem!Reader) 🌙🔥 Day 5: Fucking Machine (Mr. Freezy(Robert Pronge) x Fem!Reader) 🔥🕸️ Day 6: Body Worship (Robin Buckley x Fem!Reader) 🔥🌙 Day 7: Stripping (Shy!Jake Jensen x Stripper!Fem!Reader) Day 8: Hate Sex (Steve Rogers x Fem!Reader) Day 9: DP in One Hole (Married!Steddie x Babysitter!Fem!Reader) Day 10: Fisting (Lee Bodecker x Fem!Reader) Day 11: Pregnancy (Steve Harrington x Pregnant!Fem!Reader) Day 12: Deepthroating or Facesitting (Sub!Jake Jensen x Dom!Fem!Reader) Day 13: Orgasm Denial (Dean Winchester x Fem!Reader) Day 14: Rimming (Wanda Maximoff x Fem!Reader) Day 15: Glory Hole (Post TFAWS!Bucky Barnes x Fem!Reader) Day 16: Breeding (Dad!Thor Odinson x Mom!Fem!Reader) Day 17: Masturbation (Jim Hopper x Secretary!Fem!Reader) Day 18: Spanking (Sam Winchester x Fem!Reader) Day 19: Humiliation (Mob!Bucky Barnes x Fem!Reader) Day 20: Tentacles (Part-Kraken!Lee Bodecker x Pirate!Fem!Reader) Day 21: Sex Toys (Natasha Romanoff x Fem!Reader) Day 22: Pegging (Human!Castiel x Fem!Reader) Day 23: Costumes (Robin Buckley x Fem!Reader) Day 24: Shotgunning (Eddie Munson x Fem!Reader) Day 25: Daddy Kink (Ari Levinson x Fem!Reader) Day 26: Virginity (Virgin!40s!Stucky x Experienced!Fem!Reader) Day 27: Titfucking (Wade Wilson x Plus-sized!Fem!Reader) Day 28: Body Worship (Geralt of Rivia x Fem!Reader) Day 29: Breathplay (Eddie Munson x Fem!Reader) Day 30: Squirting (Ari Levinson x Fem!Reader) Day 31: Bondage (Ransom Drysdale x Fem!Reader)

[biggestsimponhere]

DO YOUR PART. USE THE PLATFORM YOU ARE STANDING ON. BE AGAINST GENOCIDE. BECAUSE THATS WHAT THIS IS. PALESTINE HAS NO ARMY. THEY HAVE NO NAVY. THEY HAVE NO AIR FORCES. THIS ISNT WAR. THIS IS GENOCIDE. SIGN THE PETITION. PRAY FOR PALESTINE. DO YOUR PART. THESE PEOPLE ARE TERRIFIED. THEY HAVE BEEN CUT OFF FROM THE INTERNET. FROM WATER. FROM ELECTRICITY. THEY DONT HAVE A VOICE. BE THEIR VOICE. SPREAD AWARENESS.

[honeyoru]

resonance (steve harrington x superpower! reader) chapter seven

masterlist | previous chapter | next chapter

content warning for blood n gore!

“I said Dr. Sam Owens,” Hopper’s irritated tone floated through the Byers' house once you popped back into the living room, damp boots and hunting knife in hand. You startled Nancy, who was hovering nervously in the hallway, giving Jonathan space while he sat with his unconscious brother. 

Giving her an apologetic smile for the fright, you headed to the kitchen and nodded at Steve, who was leaning against the counter. “Did I miss much?” you muttered and began braiding your damp hair.

“What, was I supposed to count the bodies?” the older man growled into the receiver, shaking his head angrily. “I don’t know how many people are left alive in there!”

“Not really,” Steve replied. “Chief’s been on the phone since you left,” he gave your blood-free outfit a glance and coughed. “Could be going better, though.”

“I am the goddamn police!” The man in question yelled. “I’m fuckin' Chief Jim Hopper!”

“They didn't believe you, did they?” Mike asked Hopper when he eventually slammed the phone, fuming.

“We’ll see,” he hedged before nodding at your clean state. “That was a quick shower. You get any blood on my floor?”

“We’ll see?” the boy cried before you could reply. “We can’t just sit here while those things are loose!”

Raising your eyebrows at his attitude, you remained silent and finished your elaborate braid, flicking it over your shoulder. You looked knowingly at the man. “I teleported into the bathtub, so no." You swallowed, thinking of how much red had went down the drain. "Clean as a whistle.”

Choosing to ignore Mike as well, Hopper asked as nonchalantly as he could. “Is the cat inside?” 

Plopping onto the hard tile floor, you set to work drying off the boots with a dish towel, sending a nod to Max when she shuffled over to sit next to you. “Nope.” El appeared to be sleeping on a bus, for reasons unbeknownst to you, heading back to Hawkins from God knows where. She appeared safe in the void, but seemed to have gotten a makeover since she’d been gone. 

“It’s still weird that you two live together,” Dustin shook his head. 

Hopper’s condensed version of how you met when you arrived at the Byers’ earlier left something to be desired, simply telling the group that he had rescued you in the forest. No one asked questions. 

You all had other things to worry about, after all.

“Can we please focus on the problem?” Mike burst out. “Why aren’t we going to do anything?”

Hopper visibly resisted snapping at him, sending a tired glance your way. “We’re going to stay here and wait for help.”

You cleared your throat at the deflated look the boy wore and tipped your head towards the hallway, looking back at Hopper. “Have you checked on her?”

The man shook his head. Sighing, he trudged down to the room where Joyce had remained inside since your group arrived, lightly knocking before entering. 

“Did you guys know that Bob was the original founder of Hawkins AV?” The younger Wheeler asked the group (mostly Dustin and Lucas) after a few moments of silence. He was fiddling with a box in his hands.

You felt your throat tighten, flashes of the man's body flickered in your mind against your will. Your eye twitched and you continued to wipe at the shoes. 

Dustin hummed. “Really?”

“Yeah,” Mike said, looking sadly at a stack of puzzles on the table. “He petitioned the school to start it and everything,” he smiled wistfully. “Pretty awesome, right?” 

The other two boys agreed. 

“We can't let him die in vain." Mike stood up suddenly, wearing a stern expression. "We can’t.”

“Well, what do you want us to do, Mike?” Dustin said, throwing his arms up. “The Chief's right on this. We can't stop those demodogs on our own.”

You couldn’t help but laugh at the dumbfounded look on Wheeler's face. He scrunched his eyebrows. “Demodogs?”

“Demogorgon,” Dustin sighed, clearly irritated at explaining the word for the nth time that night. “Dogs. Demo dogs. It's like a compound!” he rolled his eyes at Mike’s blank stare. “You know, a play on words?” 

“I know what a compound is Dustin!” he hissed before rolling his eyes back at him. “There has to be something we can do.”

“Maybe when it was just Dart we could fight them off," Lucas said. "But there’s a whole army of them now.”

“Precisely.” 

“You couldn’t even fight Dart,” Steve snorted. “You shitbirds let us do that for you, remember?” 

“His army!” Mike exclaimed, ignoring him. “The demodogs are his army! Maybe if we stop him, we can stop them, too.”

That got your attention.

“Whoa, whoa whoa, no!” Steve was already shaking his head when you stood back up, mostly-dry boots tugged back on your feet. “No way!”

“No way what?” Hopper walked back in.

“You said his army,” you cut in aggressively, jumping closer to the kids and startling them a little with your sudden participation. “Who’s he?” 

“Um.” Mike blinked at your close proximity and went to pick up a paper from the counter that had a drawing of a monster on it. “The shadow monster,” he said, handing you the paper. You frowned, it looked like a big ass spider. “It got Will that day on the field,” Mike explained. “The doctor told us it was like a virus. It infected him.” 

“Like in The Evil Dead.” Steve mused. “It’s possessing him?”

You bit your lip. The shadow monster.

A bout of dread churned through you at the thought of just who he could be. 

“And so this virus, this monster,” Max said, glancing between you and the paper. “It’s connecting Will to the tunnels?”

“Tunnels?” your eyes widened. “Ho-hold on,” you stammered, abruptly turning towards the many papers haphazardly taped on the walls. “Is that what these are?” you all but sprinted to the wall nearest you, where what was now clear to you as tunnels trailed out into the living room. 

You hadn’t had time to ask about Joyce’s choice of interior design when you’d first arrived.

“To the tunnels, monsters, the Upside Down,” Mike confirmed. “It’s connecting Will to everything.”

A small whimper escaped you. Fucking hell. Your heartbeat skyrocketed looking at the series of papers creeping along the walls, turning to glance fearfully at the boys and then back around to the wall you were closest to. 

“Slow down, Jesus,” Steve ran a hand through his hair, shooting a concerned look in your direction.

Not here. You squeezed your eyes shut. Not now. 

“Okay, so, the shadow monster is inside everything,” Mike mused, ignoring your outburst. “And if the vines feel something like pain, then so does Will.”

“And so do the demodogs,” you heard Lucas say. “Like Dart.”

They were speaking back and forth incredibly fast, clearly all thinking the same thing. Not that it really mattered to you; they might as well have been underwater. Putting a hand against the wall, you stared blankly at the paper in front of you and breathed heavily, trying to tune back into the conversation. 

“It’s like what Mr. Clarke taught us,” Lucas said excitedly. “The hive mind.”

“Hive mind?” Steve asked.

 “A collective consciousness. It's a super-organism. And this is the thing that controls everything. It's basically the brain—”

“—like the Mind Flayer!”

“The what?” Max and Steve asked in unison, causing someone, you weren’t sure who, as you couldn’t look away from the papers, to run down the hallway. 

Get it together, you scolded yourself, blinking rapidly at the hues of blue that weaved along the wall. You’ve got a monster to worry about, which is probably the one that sent you here in the first place. Why Henry would want to be a freaky spider monster, you weren’t too sure. 

It’s okay. You shuddered, taking a deep breath. It’s not like they want to go frolicking in the tunnels. Turning around, you rejoined the group that now included Jonathan and Nancy. Bury the fear, you told yourself. Refocus on the problem at hand.

It was Mike who ran back into the kitchen, slamming a large book on the table as everyone crowded around it. The boys explained over each other, describing the monster that they thought was terrorizing poor Will. 

“It's a monster from an unknown dimension—”

“—so ancient that it doesn't even know its true home—”

“—enslaves races of other dimensions by taking over their brains using its highly-developed psionic powers—”

“—Oh, my God, none of this is real!” Hopper finally lamented, wiping a hand down his face. “This book is just from that kids game you play!” He called out your name. “Help me out here!” 

You couldn’t help but shrug. “To be fair, it’s not like I ever thought monsters like the demodogs existed before I came here,” you peered down at the spider-like creature in the book, missing the look of delight Dustin briefly wore at you using his name for the monster. “Why couldn’t this one be real as well?” And I’m from the future, you thought. Someone could tell you pigs were flying and you wouldn’t be surprised. 

“Thank you!” Dustin exclaimed. “And this isn’t a game, Chief, it’s a manual,” he argued, his tone full of sass. “And unless you know something that we don't, this is the best metaphor—”

“—Analogy,” Lucas cleared his throat, correcting him.

You snorted at the look on the curly-haired boy’s face. “Really Lucas?” he asked snarkily. “Analogy? That's what you're worried about?” He rolled his eyes. “Fine. An analogy for understanding whatever the hell this monster is.”

Nancy sighed. “Okay, so this mind flamer thing—”

“— Flayer . Mind Flayer.”

Her eye twitched. “What does it want?”

“To conquer us, basically,” Dustin explained. “It believes it's the master race.”

“Right.” Steve nodded along. “Like the Germans!” 

Eight pairs of eyes blinked at him. “Um,” Dustin squinted at him. “Do you mean the Nazis?”

“Yes!” He snapped his fingers and despite the situation, you couldn’t help the tug of your lips at how proud he looked. “The Nazis!” 

“I mean, sure?” Dustin paused. Hopper rubbed his face in exasperation and looked at you before tilting his head at Steve, clearly questioning your claim that he would eventually one day become Chief.

Dustin continued. “If the Nazis were from another dimension, then yeah…totally.  Uh, it views other races, like us, as inferior to itself.”

Mike pointed at a paragraph in the book. “It wants to spread, take over other dimensions.”

“If this is the same monster we’re dealing with,” Lucas finished somberly. “Then we are talking about the destruction of our world as we know it.”

Nancy ignored Steve’s panicked outburst at the cheerful statement, leaning in closer to look at the book. “Okay, so if this thing is like a brain that's controlling everything, then if we kill it…”

“We kill everything it controls,” Mike finished. 

“We win.” Dustin said.

“Theoretically,” Lucas added. 

“Fantastic,” Hopper stated dryly. “So how do you kill this thing? Shoot it with Fireballs or something?” 

Dustin chuckled. “No. No fireballs. Um, you summon an undead army, uh, because,” he stammered, looking to his other friends for help. “You know, because zombies… they don't have brains, and the Mind Flayer, it… it... It likes brains? This is a game,” he broke off, shaking his head. “It’s just a game.”

Your eyes shot skyward as Hopper groaned and slapped the table. “What the hell are we doing here?”

“I thought we were waiting for your military backup!” Dustin sneered. 

“We are!”

Mike pointed to the book. “How could they stop this anyway? You can't just shoot this with guns.”

“You don't know that!”

Lucas put his head in his hands. “We don't know anything!”

Mike shook his head, straightening his spine to continue arguing with Hopper. You looked on with mild respect. The kid didn’t know how to give up. “We know it's already killed everybody in that lab. We know the monsters are gonna molt again. We know that it's only a matter of time before those tunnels reach this town.” You felt your heart stutter again. “So we need to do something. ”

“He’s right.” An angry, tear-stricken Joyce stood in the entryway, making your heart clench a little. “We have to kill it. I want to kill it.” 

“Me, too,” Jonathan agreed, putting an arm around his mother. 

"Me, too, Joyce, okay?" Hopper looked pained, his expression softening at the woman. “Believe me, I want it dead too. But how do we do that? We don't exactly know what we're dealing with here.”

“From what they said,” you spoke up faintly, eyes flickering worriedly to the illustrations on the wall again. “It sounds like Will does.”

“She’s right,” Mike nodded. “If anyone knows how to destroy this thing, it's Will. He's connected to it. He'll know its weakness.”

“I thought we couldn't trust him anymore,” Max furrowed her eyebrows. “Isn’t he a spy for the Mind Flayer now?” 

Nancy breathed, excitedly meeting her brother’s eyes. “He can't spy if he doesn't know where he is.”

…

“You okay, kid?” You jerked, almost slamming the piece of plywood you were holding into Hopper’s face. “Sorry. How's your cut?”

“Just stings a little,” you relaxed, walking towards the backyard with him. It was decided that Will would be placed in a blacked-out shed to confuse the Mind Flayer. “Nothing I can't handle. Hop. But it’s just,” you said, adjusting the wood in your hands and frowning. “The monster controlling Will, what if it’s… him ?” 

“Henry?” he asked, sighing when you nodded. The two of you passed Steve and Nancy, who seemed to be having a serious talk while gathering more materials to cover the shed with. “Could be,” he shrugged. “Course, that would mean that Henry was who got Will last year, too,” a frown graced his face. “Which would make a lot of sense, actually. Why the hell didn’t I think of that sooner?” He muttered, scratching his chin with the hammer he was holding thoughtfully. “Do you think it’s him?”

“Probably.” You adjusted the wood in your arms and grimaced. “It’s too much of a coincidence for it to be a different evildoer, right?”

He groaned. “I fucking hope not. Chief of Police doesn’t pay nearly enough for handling more than one. Best if we just have the one instead.”

You shuddered, thinking of the group that was now faced with defending Hawkins from evil for a second time. “How are you all so… calm about this?” you shook your head. “I thought another dimension and monsters would make people more…”

“Scared?” he offered. “Freaked out?”

“It's these kids,” Hopper sighed when you nodded. “They grew up playing that damn game and reading comic books, I think they’re the only people in the world who would see actual monsters and be excited about it.” You chuckled, setting the wood down inside of the shed. “They’ve met real-life superheroes, kid,” he nudged you playfully. “More than one now. They’re scared, no doubt, but this is still an adventure to them.”

“They’re reckless,” you whispered. 

“Someone else has always been around to save them,” he shrugged, and suddenly you were back in the living room of your old house, listening to your mother weave a not-so-happy bedtime story of just what could happen to kids who acted reckless. “Hey, don’t worry,” he said gently, misinterpreting your shift in demeanor. “Everything’s gonna be okay. We did this once before and managed to keep everyone safe.”

Swallowing, you looked up at him, feeling just as young as you really were. “And the tunnels?”

“What about them?” He squinted. “Wait, is that why you were staring at the wall earlier?” A sigh was released when his question was met with silence. “The tunnels,” he said. “That’s how those dogs are getting around town, they go all the way to the lab.” 

You shuddered. “And we have no reason to go in them, right?”

“Hell no.” He looked at you strangely. “I got stuck down there yesterday, really don’t recommend it. Relax,” he laughed at your panicked expression. “Those kids might be reckless, but they’re smart. They won’t go charging into danger, let alone those tunnels. Don’t worry about it.”

You remained silent the rest of the time you worked, praying he was right.

…

Once the shed was covered and deemed unrecognizable, you went inside to wait with Steve, Nancy, and the kids, save for Mike, while Hopper carried an unconscious Will out back. 

“How can you even be hungry?” Lucas shuddered, watching you rummage through the fridge after a few minutes of silence. The group had panned out, loitering nervously throughout the house. “You know, with all the shit you saw in the hospital.” 

“Lucas!” Max shot him a nasty glare, causing him to wilt a little. 

You smiled. I knew I liked her.

“What?” he argued. “It was a lot of blood! I’m just saying, I’d be too grossed out to eat right now if I had to kill those things and watch someone die.”

Your smile faltered. “Well it's a good thing you didn't have to.” You leaned against the fridge door, knowing he wasn't trying to be rude. “I spent most of today fighting those damn dogs so I’m pretty wiped out. If it’s alright with you, I’m gonna eat something not necessarily because I want to,” you said, raising an eyebrow at him. “But because if we get attacked again, it won’t do us any good if I pass out. Using my power takes up energy,” you said, spinning back around to dig through the fridge and grab a jar of jelly before blanching at the sight of the bright red color. “Unless, of course, you and your wrist rocket are gonna take on that army by yourself?” 

“If he finds out where we are,” Dustin said hesitantly, watching you make a face and put the jar back, choosing instead to make a plain peanut butter sandwich. “Do you think he’ll send those dogs after us?”

“He won't find out,” Lucas insisted. 

“Yeah, but, if he does…”

“Then we're fucked,” Max deadpanned, just as the lights in the house started to flicker.

“And on that note,” you hummed cheerfully, gesturing towards the kitchen light. “I’m gonna go sit while I still can.” You grabbed your finished sandwich and a glass of water before strolling out into the hallway, avoiding the tunnels that crept along the wall with you. 

Choosing to sit on the couch beside Nancy, you nibbled delicately at your sandwich in a way you knew wouldn’t cause any crumbs to fall, watching Steve swing his bat aimlessly in the corner of the room as the ticking clock above him alerted you that it was nearing 9 p.m.

“So,” Nancy hesitated, watching you eat with curious eyes. “You have powers.”

You licked peanut butter off of your finger. “Yup.”

“Like Eleven.”

Shrugging, you took another bite. “So they tell me.”

“But," she paused again. "You’re not from the lab.”

“Nope.”

She frowned. 

You almost wanted to smile. Gotta try harder than that, Wheeler.

“How long do you plan on staying in Hawkins?” Steve asked suddenly, leaning on his studded bat.

“Not sure.” You swallowed the rest of your sandwich, making sure no residue remained on your lips. 

“Why?” Nancy’s tone was pressing. “Don't wanna go back home?” 

You raised your eyebrows, taking a sip of water so you wouldn’t laugh at her determination. “No home to go back to,” you said evenly. 

“Oh,” Steve, the actual angel, replied, looking genuinely sad for you. “I’m sorry.” 

“Could be worse,” you shrugged, placing the glass back down on the coffee table. You started a little at Nancy’s wide, unblinking eyes.

“You’re lying.” Nancy’s accusation made you finally bark out a laugh. 

“Nancy!” Steve scolded. “She’s not on trial here.” 

She blinked at him incredulously. “You’ve only known her for one night, Steve, and you’re defending her?”

The against me went unspoken. “Yikes,” you couldn’t help but let out. “Can we not drag me into whatever this is?”

They ignored you.

“Uh yeah, I am!” Steve nodded furiously. “She saved all of us, Nance! Multiple times!” He cried, swinging his bat to rest on his shoulder. “And you’re interrogating her like you think she’s a monster!” 

“She’s a stranger, sue me for being cautious,�� she scoffed. “She obviously lied to us in the store, she’s probably lying about how she ended up here too.” 

“The store?” you repeated, eyes curiously bouncing between the two. 

Nancy’s face tightened, almost like she was angry you dared to join the conversation. “You said you were trying to cheer up someone, a girl who couldn’t go outside on Halloween.” 

Movement out of the corner of your eye alerted you to an audience currently peeking from the kitchen at the noise. Little eavesdroppers.  

“And from what Hopper just told us,” she said. “That can’t be true,” she tilted her head tauntingly. 

“Oh, so you do remember Halloween night?” Steve laughed harshly, causing the girl’s face to drop guiltily. 

“Steve…”

“No, Nancy!” he held a hand up. “You know what? Who cares if she’s lying? She fought those things with me, a total stranger,” you winced internally. “and then she ran into the lab without thinking twice for Will and your brother! She saved us all practically by herself and is still helping us now even when she doesn’t have to! I think she’s entitled to a few secrets.” 

“She didn’t save everyone,” Nancy snapped defensively, freezing once she realized what she had said.

You swore the temperature dropped twenty degrees as you looked up at her expressionless, grateful the sharp pain that splintered across your chest didn’t reflect on your face. Nancy couldn’t hide the panicked glance she sent towards your hands, which were thrumming with energy. 

You would’ve snorted if you weren’t so upset. Not with Nancy, of course, but with yourself. 

She wasn’t wrong, after all. 

The door to the kitchen suddenly slammed open before you could say anything to the girl, sending you into fight mode. You quickly teleported into the room, everyone else following closely behind. Hopper was furiously scribbling on a notepad at the table. “What happened?”

“Will,” he rushed out. “He’s tapping on his chair.” Finally, he leaned back, allowing you to look. “I think he's talking, just not with words. We just have to keep Will, or the thing inside him, anyways, distracted while he tells us.”

“What is that?” Steve asked, and all of you hovered around the dots and dashes that littered the paper.

“Morse code,” you replied along with multiple people, nodding your head in approval.  “He’s smart.”

“H-E-R-E,” Nancy read.

“Here,” the group said in unison. 

“Will's still in there,” Hopper explained. “He’s saying something to us.”

“Looks like we got a plan after all,” Dustin grinned.

…........

The harsh words Nancy said were tabled for later, you supposed, as you all hastily repeated the corresponding letters to Will’s morse code that Hopper sent via walkie-talkie. The celebration of the resulting phrase “CLOSE GATE” was short-lived, however, as the Byers’ phone began to shrilly ring, sending you all into a frenzy.

“Who the hell is even calling this late?” Lucas yelled. The panic that filled you was swift and sudden, and rather than waste any more time you threw a hand in the direction of the phone, swiftly ripping it from the wall and sending it hurtling down the hall. 

You made a mental note to apologize to Joyce later.

“Do we, uh, think Will heard that?” Dustin asked, glancing around the house. 

“It’s just a phone,” Steve frowned. “Couldn’t it be from anywhere?”

A horrible shrieking, familiar to most of you, filled the air.

Wryly, you stretched your arms out and flicked your braid over your shoulder while the kids flew to the windows, looking for any sign of the dogs on the horizon. “Guess that answers that question.”

“Shit!” The kitchen door bounced off the wall once more, revealing the rest of the group and an unconscious Will. “Get away from the windows!” Hopper yelled to the kids, lugging two guns inside. “Can you use this?” he asked you, holding a shotgun out. 

The look on your face was priceless as you scoffed, waving your hands out dramatically. "Right." Nodding sheepishly, he asked the group the question again at large, ultimately handing it to, surprisingly, Nancy. 

“Alright,” You pushed over the kids heads to look outside, nodding a little. “I’ll be right back.”

“What?” The vein on Hopper’s forehead pulsed angrily. “You’re not going out there.”

“I’m the first line of defense, Hop,” you rolled your eyes, pointing at yourself. “I ate a sandwich, I’ll be fine!” 

He sputtered in response and without much of a farewell, you made sure to grab the hunting knife and teleported outside, hearing a faint “ ...away from the goddamn windows!” when you gracefully stepped down the front porch. 

You shook out your shoulders, clocking the creatures that were already creeping in from the tree line, the single street light at the edge of the driveway casting a particularly horrifying glow on their shadows. 

“Shit,” you shuddered, unable to remain as confident as you appeared in the house. No matter how much it thrilled you to fight, you couldn’t help but be nervous. You had no idea how many dogs were watching you.

It didn’t matter, you resolved. No matter what, you wouldn’t let them kill someone else. You spared a glance back to the house, letting out a chuckle at the faces that were smashed against the window again. 

Swallowing harshly, you allowed your mind to go blank. “Well, come on, already, Henry!” you taunted, beckoning whatever was out there closer. 

Adrenaline pumped through your body as the creatures begin barreling towards you in response. It was like a choppy ocean wave, the dogs tripping over each other just as they did in the lab in an attempt to get to you first. You cleared your thoughts, tuning into the environment around you, and began to fight as the first few screeched and lunged. 

It was likely that only minutes had passed by as you spared a glance down to the dogs that lay dead at your feet, the rush from fluttering around the yard leaving you a little dizzy. You had just taken a deep breath when you had to suddenly duck, the flailing body of a limp demodog was soaring over you, straight through the window of the house. What the hell?

Straightening, you were flooded with relief at the sight of the figure that stood a few feet away, commenting dryly. “Well, that was dramatic.” 

At the very end of the driveway stood El, still donned in all black. With a quick pop you appeared next to her, fluttering around as she began to attack the remaining creatures with determination you hadn’t seen before. 

“You’re a little shit, you know that?” you called out, yanking your knife out of a demodog and spraying the mailbox with blood. “I would’ve gone with you.” 

She smiled, gesturing to the many bodies littered across Joyce’s lawn. “I needed to do it alone,” El responded. “Looks like they would’ve been in trouble if you weren’t here.”

You couldn’t help but agree. 

“What happened?” she asked. 

Sharp pain suddenly flooded you as one of the creatures managed to claw at your leg when you were turned the opposite way, knocking you to the ground with a yelp. 

You heard someone yell from inside the house. 

“We need to close the gate,” you huffed, furious at the dog for pulling you into a puddle of blood. "I just cleaned those shoes!"

Her breath hitched. "Again?”

“Yep,” you grunted, kicking the monster in the head and closing your fist, squishing its petals with your mind. El helped you up, taking notice of the last remaining dogs that were left. 

Together, you both raised your hands, flattening the creatures and filling the night with silence once more. 

You looked at her, tucking a stray piece of hair back. “Where’d you go anyways?” 

“Chicago.” You pulled her in for a hug with a chuckle. 

Hopper was gonna have a heart attack.

Tightly, you squeezed her, feeling the smaller girl squeeze just as hard back. “Was it windy there?”

“Yes,” she nodded seriously when you broke apart. “Very windy.”

You snorted, sighing tiredly. “Did you find whatever it was you went there for?” 

“Yes,” El smiled, grabbing your hand and tugging you towards the house. “I did.”

[harringtons-cupid]

RichMarried!Steve Harrington x Fem!Mistress Reader

w.c: 3.2k

warnings -18+: Thigh-touching, suggestive looks, introductory relationship. Cheek kissing, flirting, alcohol use

Tagged: @bisexual-byers @luna-munson83 @queerpumpkinnn @littlepotatobeansworld @hazzaismyreligion  @littlepotatobeansworld @mikefaistwasinnewsies @urlbitchin @stevestummy @eddiemunsons-missingnipple @munsonsbaby @moonchildquinn @beesoo13 @nojerama1996 @sw34terw34ther

There is French within this chapter, the translations for them are here:

oh, Tu parle Française - oh, do you speak french? Ah oui, je venir du France et toi? - oh, i come from France, and you? Je venir du France et Etas-Uni - I come from France and America. Ah tres gentile, voulez-vous un tea - oh very nice, do you want tea? vous avez une petit ferme dans votre jardin, ma femme n’aime pas les animaux - You have a small farm in your garden, my wife doesn't like animals. oh non, je suis désolé. Eh bien vous pouvez avoir certains de mes oeufs de poulets quand - oh no, i'm sorry. Well you can have some of my chickens eggs whenever. ahah, merci beaucoup - thank you very much -J'aimerais mieux to connaitre - I want to get to know you better, tu es la bienvenue jolie fille - you're welcome pretty girl

Masterlist | KOFI

Money was not something you needed from a man, you were independent and successful in your own right.

Living comfortably on your own in the house between the city and the country, your previous relationships had fallen apart because you didn’t want kids or to get married.

You were fine with that, your small little holding with chickens, dogs and cats was the perfect life for you.

In your solitude on Sunday afternoons was something that you cherished.

Today you were walking through the little village that you lived in, walking your beige and white beagle Petal when a big black BMW slowed down next to you.

Expecting some 60 year old man to peer his head out and ask for direction but you were taken back to see such a pretty young face raise his sunglasses to see you properly.

“Uh, Hi Miss. Could you tell me where number 5 Rosehill house is please?” His voice was calm and patient, as he waited for you to answer.

“Yeah of course” you flushed red, as his stayed on you. Leaning closer to the car as you directed him visually, he winked at with a nod before thanking you.

Stunned at the encounter, you brushed down your dress and cleared your throat. Still watching the road that his car drove down, leading Petal to continue walking.

Rosehill house was 2 doors up for your house, you had heard rumours in the town that a wealthy family had just bought it. Not wanting to assume things you shrugged of those tingly feelings for the stranger and walked home.

Later that evening there was a soft knock on your front door, as you left the rest of your dried cutlery and plates on the side. Too distracted to even look through the peephole, you opened the door.

To your surprise, the handsome stranger from earlier was stood in front of you with some flowers and a smile.

“Oh, hi again. My name is Steve, I live at Rosehill house and I wanted to give you these flowers, me and my wife have been handing them out to our neighbors as a welcoming gift” he stumbled slightly in shock as he looked you up and down.

He wasn’t wearing his sunglasses now, his hair was messy and had fallen across his face. He looked softer and kind as he stood there with the flowers that were slowly dying in his hand.

"Thank you, this is so kind of you" you smiled, taking the flowers off him. Indicating for him to come inside with you.

He admired his new surroundings as he looked around your house, you were loudly filling up the clear vase before placing them on the table. Your radio played quietly in the background, your favourite French show as the evening sun illuminated the room.

"oh, Tu parle Française? his voice was hot and seductive as slipped so naturally into French with a curious smile.

"Ah oui, je venir du France et toi?" you leant against the counter, closer to him as you scanned his face.

"Je venir du France et Etas-Uni" he smiled at you, the light was bouncing off his eyes as his smile spread across his face.

"Ah tres gentile, voulez-vous un tea" you waved the kettle in front of him, raising your eyebrows slightly as he nodded.

Staring at him as you waited for it to boil, it took you off guard that this stranger was speaking French back to you. Pouring the tea into the cups, you slid it in front of him. Watching him gaze between you, the tea and your garden.

''vous avez une mini ferme dans votre jardin, ma femme n’aime pas les animaux'' his voice seemed sadder as he dipped his head to stare at the contents of the mug with a sigh.

''oh non, je suis désolé. Eh bien vous pouvez avoir certains de mes oeufs de poulets quand'' you laughed with him as he raised his head from his mug.

"ahah, merci beaucoup" still laughing into his cup as your eyes locked with his.

You continued talking until he noticed your wall clock behind you that struck 6PM, he threw his coat on quickly and made his way towards the door. Turning to face you in the hallway,

"J'aimerais mieux to connaitre'' his voice was breathless and quick as he dashed out the door into the evening.

Leaving you stunned from your second brief encounter with this handsome stranger called 'Steve'.

You thought about him all night, tossing and turning to the thought of him. Waking up in cold sweat as you imagined what his lips would feel on yours, the way his body would cling to yours from behind.

The next morning you followed your usual routine for work, humming to yourself in the garden when you heard his familiar voice.

“ Morning miss, how are you today?” His voice was cheery as he shouted over the fence towards you.

Your chest fluttered as you found your legs in a pool of dampness, struggling to say anything coherent. Your cheeks flushing red as you clutched onto your egg basket, lifting it up above the fence.

“Uh, yes. Just collecting my eggs, do you want any?” Cursing yourself as you suddenly thought what you just asked.

“Only if you’re offering” he winked at you before making his way inside.

Once alone in your garden, you cursed under your breath at your own annoyance. Bringing the eggs inside, you quickly tidied yourself up but the sound of the bell ring through the house.

Swinging the door open with a smile, his sunglasses were perched on the top of his head as it shone behind him. Dazzling his pretty smile at you as you invited him in, the eggs were sat neatly on your kitchen counter.

He examined them as you waved towards the kettle, nodding with a laugh.

“You drink a lot of tea don’t you?” He seemed amused as he picked up the eggs and weighed them in his hands.

“I guess I do” you shrugged not thinking anything of it as you placed his tea down in front of you.

Your hands met as you exchanged the mugs between you, gasping as sparks flew up your arms. Giggling as you tried to distract yourself to avoid any embarrassment but to your surprise, he pulled your hand back on his.

Unable to fight the urge to pull your hand away, in those moments it felt oddly good to have his fingers play with yours.

Forgetting in that moment that he had a life beyond sitting at your kitchen counter.

You spent an hour talking to him with your hands and playing with each other until your work alarm sounded across the house from your bedroom. Gasping in shock, you rushed into the bedroom and slammed it off. Composing yourself slightly before you reentered the kitchen with an embarrassing smile, your cheeks flushed red.

"Sorry! I have to be getting to work now" you sheepishly spoke as you clipped on your bike helmet. Feeling ridiculous as he stood there and watched you.

"Where do you have to go? I can drive you" he asked, without even worrying.

You blinked at him a few time before slowly taking off the helmet and placing it down,

"Are you sure?" you felt bad, making him drive you. But it felt natural as he nodded and led the way outside.

Instructing you to wait on your drive for a moment, the sunlight shining in your eyes as you did as you were told. You heard faint voices over the high hedge rows that separated each house before the loud rumble of his black BMW rolled past your drive.

You took a deep breath in and looked around at your surroundings before climbing inside. His car was clean and smelt good, the seats were cream leather as you sat next to him.

"Thank you again for this, I really appreciate it" you blushed after thanking him profusely.

"tu es la bienvenue jolie fille'' he spoke smoothly, his hand slipping down from the steering wheel and stroking yours for a second.

His eyes drawing you, unable to do anything but stutter. The compliment alone made you flush, but the touch of his hand was stained on yours.

Your eyes followed the curves and features of his body in the sun, the flicks of brown hair that were clearly over-gelled. His faint tan lines reached just up to his short sleeve t-shirt, and his almost non-existent freckles that had just begun appearing on his face.

He was beautiful.

Wanting to continue following his features down his body, you were disappointed when he came to a stop. Turning to face you with a smirk, bringing you out of your trance.

"I think we are here" that smooth calm voice filled your ears once again.  Grinning at you as his hands touched yours again.

"Well thank you again, Mr. Harrington?" you questioned whether you had his surname right as you gathered your belongings in your arms.

"Call me Steve" he smiled at you, catching you off guard as he reached over your body to open the door. His face inches away from yours, his breath tickling your neck, you dared to turn your head.

Mixed feelings of wanting to feel his lips on yours but not wanting to embarrass yourself. Chuckling as the door swung open and you jumped out, hearing him curse under his breath.

You felt silly as you stood and waved him away from the entrance, the rush of adrenaline of being so close to him was flying through your veins. Your legs hot and sticky as you coated your underwear from such a rush.

The morning flew by, after completing the necessary tasks that you were requested to do. You decided to have your break, walking towards the front desk the receptionist Bethany called you over.

"There is a gentleman here for you, he said his name was Steve and he wanted to take you out for lunch'' she giggled, as she subtly pointed to the man sitting on the Karak green chairs.

That rush of feelings built up inside you once again as you straightened out your outfit, checked your makeup in your small compact mirror, and walked toward him. Clearing your throat to get his attention, watching as he jumped at once with that dazzling smile.

Motioning for you to lead first, you noticed that in the glass reflection, he was checking you out. Smirking to yourself as you continued to walk ahead until you reached his car. He once again leaned over you and opened your door, his lips practically grazing your cheek as he smiled.

He extended his free hand out for you and taking it you breathlessly climbed up, his eyes dropped onto your tights just below your skirt before meeting your eyes with a wink and shutting the door behind you.

The drive was silent as he stole glances your way, the radio played quickly in the background as he drove further away from your work. Your curiosity grew and grew until he stopped outside a quaint but fancy looking restaurant.

Helping you down out of his car, you clumsily tripped on the last step and fell into his arms. Breathing in his scent as your face brushed against his chest, his laugh vibrated against yours as you looked up at him.

Staring at each other for a moment, your eyes scanning between your lips and cheeks. After regaining more control, you pulled yourself from under him with embarrassment and stood next to him.

Not wanting to push the boundaries even more, he brushed past your hand as he strode ahead.

The restaurant was dimly lit and cosy, minimal daylight streamed through the small windows. A fireplace roared between two rooms, there was a mixture of comfy chairs, bar stools, and wooden chairs. After debating how far away from the fire to sit, he chose the seating area in the corner.

Pulling out your chair, his breath tickled your hair as he pushed you back underneath the table. His hands slid down the wooden beams reaching the tiny bit of skin that you had exposed, listening to a small gasp fall from your lips.

Smirking as he walked back round the table to face you, his brown eyes stared at back you. Clearing your throat, you grasped onto the menu and hid your face with a smile.

He was polite and kind as you sat at the table making fun of the fake French that was scattered across the menu.

When the waiter arrived, Steve attempted to communicate with the waiter in French much to his avail he was unsuccessful. Rolling his eyes at you before repeating the order in English, just to hear you giggle.

Once the food was eaten and you were significantly late back to work, he paid the bill much to your protests.

The car drive back to your office building was lively and talkative, you enjoyed getting to know your new neighbour. As he pulled over outside the entrance, your hand on the lever as he slipped a white card inside your spare hand with a smile.

Jumping out of the car, you turned to face him through the glass. He motioned the call sign with the words “call me”, making you laugh lightly before turning away.

Your cheeks flushed red as you walked through the office, Bethany the receptionist pulled a teasing face as she pointed at the time. Rolling your eyes with a smile, you continued walking. Not wanting to entertain her anymore than you already have.

The rest of the day went by quickly, glancing endlessly at his pristine business card in your hand. The print of his hands touching your body still tingled as you typed away at your computer.

Not realising until it was too late, that he was your only way home. The office was empty and eerily dark as you punched in the number off his business card, gulping as you anxiously waited for his voice.

It came after a painfully long wait, your hands were slightly shaking as more of the lights had been turned off inside. His reassuring words of “I’m sorry, I forgot that you don’t have a ride home. I will be there as soon as I can”.

He was kind, mysterious, and sexy.

You thought about him as you waited outside in the cold, it was dark on the pavement. The orange glow of a few broken streetlights flickered around you, the hum of his car finally arriving closer and closer.

Leaning forward as the car still ran and shouted “get in”, hurrying to be somewhere warm. You clambered up the steps of his car, shivering on his front seat until he blasted the heating.

Glancing over at you every now and then as he flew down the roads, getting further away from the city and closer to home.

“You called me just at the right time, I was in my office. Would you like to get something to eat?” He turned to look at you, your jacket had fallen down onto the seat.

“What now? You want to eat with me again?” You questioned, trying to hide the slight excitement and exhaustion in your voice.

“I do, of course, I do” He smiled, mumbling the last part. You didn’t hear it as your eyes watched the streetlights fly past.

“Okay then, you’re clearly not bored by me yet” you giggled and blushed meeting his eyes in the reflection.

He drove past the junction to the village, driving you both away from any known civilization. Anxiety and excitement filled your veins, rubbing your legs together in the chair. He sensed your mixed feelings, twitching at the touch of his cool hand on your thigh. 

“We’re nearly there now” his calm and soft voice soothing you, as his thumb rubbed in circular motions on your skin with a smile. 

Your legs were still bouncing as he continued to drive, accidentally causing his hand to slip down to your inner thigh. Your mouth made an ‘’op’’ noise as his hand grazed your underwear, laughing sheepishly as he slowly moved his hand back up to the steering wheel. 

Neither of you spoke after the close incident, your thighs still tingling from the touch of him. Clenching them tight together, you focused your attention on the faint lighting ahead. It began to rain heavily against the front window of the car, resting your head against the passenger window you watched as the building got closer and closer. 

He helped you out of the car, lifting up his heavy brown coat above both of your heads. Forcing you to be close to him, the strong smell of his faint cologne sent you into a trance. Gazing you up at him as the coat began to get drenched from the rain, you giggled as he picked the quick pace into the lobby of the restaurant. 

Sighing with relief at the warm air from inside, hanging up his wet coat on the coat rack that was standing behind you. Wondering if it was an excuse to lean over you again, maybe he had the same feeling as he smelt your faint perfume.  You hoped so. 

The glass double doors were opened to be greeted by the host waiter with a smile. 

“Ah, hello again. Mr. Harrington, would you like your usual table?’’ the host smiled, collecting two menus in his hand. Steve nodded, subtly slipping a note with a wink at you. 

You felt somewhat special as you were led to the table almost instantly, it was secluded similar to the table from lunchtime. His watch flashed in the candlelight that separated you both, as you looked at your surroundings you noticed that this table was the only one with a candle. Maybe there was a reason. 

It got cosy as his legs kicked yours, your famous giggle echoed across to him as he made a joke. His hands reached across the table as he picked up his wine glass, looking at you seductively. 

“So? Where does your wife think you are?” your fingers played with the rim of the glass, swirling 

Saving your questions for later, you began to tuck into your food. His eyes drifted towards you as your sucked in pieces of pasta between your lips, at that same moment his leg slid up your thigh. Slightly ripping a line in your black shein tights, gasping as he kicked your legs apart under the table. 

You ducked your head as your cheeks grew hot. 

“Look at me” his voice was hot and demanding, prying your legs open in the middle of the restaurant. Your eyes met his with a smirk and a red fast. 

You found it hot that you barely knew him but somehow he could make you feel so intense. 

He waved over the waiter, insisting on the bill as you finished up the last of your pasta. His feet were still keeping your legs open underneath the table, waiting patiently until you were able to get some air. 

After he paid once again for the meal, he helped you into your jacket. The rain had stopped as he opened the door for you, watching you elegantly pass by him. 

You drunkenly climbed into the passenger seat, kicking your legs against the fabric playfully. He started the car, his hand automatically slid back to its rightful place on your thigh. Stroking your skin with his thigh, his wrist watch was cool as he squeezed it making you squeal under your breath.

As he drove over the speed bumps of the carpark, his hand slipped closer to your underwear causing your breath to hitch. Suddenly, he removed his hand from your skin making you miss the way his finger felt stroking your underwear. 

You waited for him to place his back on your thigh but it never came, making you pout sadly out the window as he sped through the back lanes. As he pulled up to your house, you began to get nervous not wanting the day to end. 

He turned to you with a smirk, his wrist watch twinkled in the light of your house. Maybe it was the wine but you wanted to take him inside and have him manhandle you. 

“I had a wonderful night with you, I’m sad that has come to an end” his voice was lower as he leaned closer to you, his hands took a piece of your hair and twirled it between his fingers. 

“Me too, maybe we should do it again” you stuttered as his lips touched your cheek, kissing your skin for as long as he could before hovering over your face. 

You wanted to stay with him for longer but you decided to get out of the car, your cheek was still tingling from where his lips had been. The cool air hit your face as you wandered around the car, pausing at the drivers side. His window was down waiting for you, his hand was dangling against the metal with his pinky finger extended. You searched around before latching your fingers together, he pulled you closer so your faces were almost touching again. 

“I’ll be outside tomorrow to take you to work” he whispered in your ear watching your face flushed, meeting his eyes as he nodded. 

Letting you go, he winked at you before you bounced off inside. He stayed outside until you paused at the front door and waved with a smile. The sound of his car humming next door was heard as you wandered upstairs, your dogs were asleep at the edge of the bed peacefully. You sighed and collapsed onto your bed, he never left your mind. 

[usedtobecooler]

been in a writing slump for the last lil bit, i currently have seven (yes, SEVEN) almost completed WIPs in my google docs, all varying characters and scenarios, a few that are requests and others that aren't. i'm gonna pop little descriptions and excerpts from each WIP below, if you guys want to please reply and cast your vote for which one you wanna see first i'll finish the one with the most votes and post it on friday! <3

untitled - kurt kunkle x fem!reader

decription: there basically isn't one, kurt is readers spree driver and she wants to fuck him real bad lmao

“W-want you, Kurt,” You stutter, unable to hold back your tears when he tugs your hair harder. The song changes, though your ears hardly register it. From this angle you can see the streetlights out the windows, painfully aware now of how open and public this is, how if the cops came you’d both be fucked. It doesn’t help how much you’re enjoying this.

Kurt groans when you finally give him what he wants, the reply he needed, all the anger on his face changing to bliss, “Tell my fans how good my cock is,” He’s smirking at you, grinning wider when your eyes pop open in realization. You tilt your head further back, finally aware that he’s been filming this on Live the entire time, just muting the noise of his notifications so you knew no better.

me, myself and why - modern day!eddie munson x fem!reader

description: eddie and reader are in a situationship that continues on no matter how much reader claims to want out. based on me, myself and why by alana springsteen.

You sit up in the bed that you’d wound up in at least three times a week for the last four months, and you curse yourself for being so stupid. You try not to let the pain overtake your features, try not to let him see that it’s bothering you — the rejection, and how your ‘relationship’ will be over just like that, because you were stupid with your own emotions.

“I don’t know what I was thinking,” You stutter, leaning over to the side to retrieve your clothes, a quiet little chuckle escaping your lips, and you know you look crazy, all wide eyed and trying to hold back the tears that are threatening to escape, “I probably wasn’t thinking at all, post orgasm haze and whatever.”

but i do - steve harrington x plus size fem!reader

description: our fave lil steve takes an interest in a plus size girl who's typically confident, though her confidence falters when they finally have sex.

So, when he approached you and asked you out, you really had to stop yourself from laughing directly in his face. Had he really gone through every single conventionally attractive woman in Hawkins? This had to have been some kind of joke. You knew his type — tiny, petite, usually brunette but nowadays he didn’t seem picky about hair colour. You were the furthest thing from what he went for.

You weren’t ugly, and you didn’t see yourself as ugly, either. But, you carried weight in your hips, your belly, your arms, your thighs. To most, that would make you ugly by default. You were told so, too, by a lot of people. Years of relentless nasty remarks had you struggling to come to terms with your body, but once adulthood took over you found yourself caring less and less, in turn surrounding yourself with people who loved you for you.

untitled - steddie x fem!reader

description: reader and eddie are fwb's, steve has a crush on reader. cue car shenanigans.

“Don’t turn around, but—“ You don’t even get the sentence out before Eddie’s whipping his head around like an idiot, facing exactly where Steve is standing, frozen like a deer caught in the headlights, a dark flush spreading on his cheeks before he’s turning away. He couldn’t have disappeared through the door to the break room any faster if he’d tried.

“What the hell was that, Munson? I fucking said not to turn around,” You hiss through gritted teeth, leaning forward to smack Eddie’s bare arm with your sundae spoon. Eddie feigns a little hurt noise in the back of his throat, rubbing at the red patch of skin where you’d spanked him with the silverware.

untitled - eddie x fem!reader x oc fem!character

description: an established lesbian couple live in the trailer next to eddie's. they catch him watching them, and decide to play into his fantasies.

Eddie Munson is a lot of things, but he’s not a creep. Or, at least, that’s what he tells himself as he fists tightly at his cock with his ringed fingers, mouth hung open in a silent moan as he watches you throw your head back, back arching deliciously and giving him a perfect view of your pouty lips, the curve of your tits, the hand wound tightly in Michelle’s permed hair.

He’d watched the whole scene unfold as Michelle backed you up against the sink with a hand wrapped around the back of your neck, tapping your thigh to signal you to jump up onto the counter. Her head disappeared under your short skirt not long after, and the moans followed quickly.

untitled - steddie x fem!reader

description: bootriding and blowjobs. that's it. that's the fic.

“If you’re so desperate to get off, get on the floor and do it your fucking self,” Eddie snips, shoving you off of his lap until you’re dropping to the floor on your knees in shock. This seems to rouse Steve out of his own little bubble, and he looks down at you with large, bloodshot eyes. From this angle, you know your tits are spilling out from the neck of your little tank top, in Steve’s eyeline for him to gawk at — he takes the bait, eyeing up the supple flesh, shuffling in his seat uncomfortably.

“Go on then,” Eddie’s voice is dark, a tone he only ever uses when he’s annoyed at you — it’s pathetic how your pussy quivers when his words ring through your ears, because you’re in for it, he’s not going to make this easy on you, “Show Steve what a little slut you are.”

untitled - steddie x fem!reader

description: established couple eddie and reader decide they want to have fun with their new neighbour, older!steve.

“It’s okay, Steve — can I call you Steve?” Eddie asks, this shit eating grin on his face as he perches on his knees behind you, and Steve nods in return, “She’s just eager, she wants to please you. I’ll help guide her, from the straining in your pants I’d say she’s gonna need it.”

Steve whimpers, eyes going wide as they fly to watch you moving your fingers deftly to pop the button on his jeans. Eddie’s hands roam up your shirt, groping at the soft pudge of your belly, making you shiver - his own erection is as clear as day, as it digs into the small of your back.