#and which one is just Steve harrington locked in the emotional freezer

[pondermoniums]

A little post season 3 ficlet (2749 words) featuring some holiday fluff <3 See tags or read on ao3 here ~

• • • •

Billy still feels it. He wishes his muscle memory had died with him, but it just came back with him too.

The things he felt.

The things It felt.

Everything It made him do.

His psychiatrist tries to tell him that his scars are his body claiming his soul back. Billy couldn’t agree. He didn’t like touching the starbursts on his torso because the shiny scar flesh felt tissue-paper thin—not to his fingertips, but underneath. His heart trembled as if he could just push a little too hard, and enter his ribs—

“Hey, the new place opened up off Main Street. You know those new roads they’re building? There’s already a Greek place there. Let’s get a menu.”

Billy frowned at him. Steve Harrington. He’d been at the mall. Billy didn’t remember seeing him…during…but afterward. In the spotty shreds of memory that were all his own, he remembered Steve looking nearly as bad as he felt. The memories swirled together like a circus dream. Steve and…Robin. Her name is Robin…in striped costumes. Steve carried Max away from his body. Robin practically did the same for the girl with a number for a name. All of them glowed with Starcourt neon pink and purple and red.

Steve’s car hummed around them, and fell silent when he turned onto the fresh asphalt of Hawkins’ new road. Steve laughed a little. “Farmer Higgins is probably still fuming. Last thing the mayor did before he got booted out of here was steal land for these businesses.”

“What’s it matter?” Billy exhaled. There were less people in Hawkins to fuel the shady economy anyway.

“Well I can’t speak for your Camaro, but my car doesn’t last long, driving brodies with trees in the way.”

His little sapphire. A dark mixture of humor and apathy seeped into his blood at the memory of Steve Harrington, of all people, slamming into him. He didn’t do it hard enough.

Now he sat in the car Steve drove. Not because the Camaro couldn’t be fixed, but because Billy wasn’t fit to drive yet. Maybe there was something full-circle about it. Or a broken circle; an open-ended thing, like Billy.

“As if you could do a brody.”

Steve smirked. “Thankfully I’ve ruined enough fields for practice.”

And then he pulled right off the road, slipped through a tiny thicket of trees framing the road, and burst upon a dry, yellow field. He turned sharply, throwing Billy against him…until the car locked into a paradox of calm and chaos. The back wheels revolved around them to dig a doughnut in the earth. Steve let the wheel go, and they rocked as the car jerked with the front tires straightening.

Steve looked around them to find the road again and made a mock sound of getting sick. “Glad we didn’t eat first.”

He grinned at Billy, making him realize a smile had stuck on his face like a cramped muscle. He pushed a hand over his mouth, physically melting it off.

The food was good. The flavors shoved their way over his pallet. It was kind of hard to enjoy food now. He ate when his body needed it but he didn’t get the emotional reaction to it—

“I didn’t know we had Greeks in Hawkins,” Steve conversed openly. A small, lost part of Billy remembered Steve calling him out for being mouthy during basketball, but Steve could talk. He wiped his mouth and dug back into his rice plate. “Then again, Robin and Dustin always have something to say about authenticity. Like you spend a day outside of Indiana and you’re worldly.”

“Did you forget where I’m from?” Billy spoke before he meant to. California didn’t seem to matter much any—

“Did you?” Steve tossed back.

Silence fell over their booth while Steve waited. Then he went back to his food when Billy clearly didn’t care about responding.

Over and over again.

Steve picked Billy up.

Hospital.

Food.

Back to Cherry Lane.

Steve talked. Sometimes Billy replied.

Then things began to change. Steve took Billy to the grocery store after Billy’s therapy. Billy had emerged ruddy-eyed liked he smoked a pound of weed, and Steve had merely said, “I’m feeling tacos.”

Only instead of a restaurant, he took them to the store. And then the Harrington house. Billy talked more there.

“No, no, it’s queso fresco.”

“It’s just cheese, though?”

“Jesus, it’s like I’m the one who grew up with farmers. Different rain waters different grass. That makes different cows, which make different milk. Do you know anything about breweries?”

“Do you?” Steve challenged while they made a mess of his kitchen counter. Crumbles of white cheese, lettuce, and other tacos toppings littered the fancy granite.

“I know that breweries stay put. Because the water’s different. They have to have the right water to make the right beer. I haven’t had my favorite lager since I moved here.”

“What’s it taste like?”

Billy told him. Billy told him a lot of things. Steve just…got a rise out of him the way his therapist couldn’t. Then again, Steve never asked about all the things Billy wanted to burn out of his brain.

Then Cherry Lane fell off the list. Billy couldn’t say how exactly he moved into Harrington’s house. Maybe the food flowed into Billy falling asleep, and starting the next day from Steve’s house just happened too many times. Maybe Max used Steve’s pool too many times. Maybe it was when Billy realized Steve wasn’t just driving him to his physical and mental therapy sessions.

He walked out of the physical therapy gym at the back of the hospital to meet Steve in the same lobby they parted ways in. But Steve wasn’t there. Billy asked the nearby receptionist if “the guy with the hair” had gotten lost to the bathroom, but she only replied, “He’s running a little overtime, but he should be on his way.”

Billy’s appointments took hours. It made sense for Steve to leave and come back—

But the elevator dinged, and Steve was too busy reading something to not walk into a passing nurse. “Oh! Ow—sorry! Sorry,” he exclaimed, holding his arm…

He rolled the shoulder of that arm on the way through the parking lot, swinging the arm round and around like he was warming up for tennis. Inside the car, Billy cornered, “What were you doing in there?”

Steve glanced at him but shrugged as he turned the ignition. “Blood work. An IV drip. MRI’s. My usual stuff. The drip took longer this time.”

“Usual stuff? How come I’m just now hearing of this?”

“Remember, Robin used to meet us here? She got cleared faster.”

“Cleared out of what? How are you more broken than she was?”

Steve stared at him for an unnerving minute. “They…kind of beat the shit out of me. So… I mean, you pack a wallop, but Russians with an agenda put you to shame.”

Billy suddenly wondered if he’d overstepped a boundary. Steve just talked so much, and took whatever Billy gave him without flinching that he never considered…

“Getting concussed and doped up with unknown chemicals isn’t everyone’s normal Thursday.”

Billy had forgotten that Steve had been through shit like this before. Not with the same variables, but… “I forget that your normal got thrown out the window before I got here.”

“It’s not a competition,” Steve tried to say lightly. He waved a hand in front of the vents as if their lingering in the parking lot was just to wait for the heating to kick on.

“And if it is, who’d win?”

“Oh, I think Will Byers has us beat.”

That…hit differently than Billy expected. A laugh burst out of him, like it had just been waiting for a weight to lift off of him to break free. “Yeah. Maybe he does.”

Then they went to Steve’s house, where more and more of Billy’s clothes had accumulated. The kitchen had been stocked with food bought from Steve’s wage and Billy’s top-secret government allowance—which turns out, was rather high. Steve, for all his fancy furniture and basically bottomless bank account thanks to his parents, had to pick his jaw up off the floor when Billy finally revealed the monthly check to him.

“Holy shit. Don’t let the nerds see that; they’ll siphon quarters out of you for the arcade.”

“They’re old enough to want beer and condoms.”

Steve scoffed as he flipped their dinner pancakes. “I can’t believe I’m saying this, but I think they’ll sooner pop their cherries than go for beer.” Then he grimaced and waved his spatula. “New subject! Change the subject.”

Billy laughed from the breakfast bar, where he was arranging his medication into a days-of-the-week organizer. It was just a bar of little snap-closed boxes, but it helped him keep track of the pills he took—and the ones he ignored.

Steve had asked him once, “Why do you always leave the red ones?”

“They turn me into a vegetable.”

“Oh. You can’t, like…split it in half? Half vegetable?”

Billy couldn’t say why he felt comforted by Steve’s uniquely clueless way of thinking. Perhaps the guy actually made sense, or maybe he just over-simplified things in an over-complicated world.

Now, though, he set the spatula down with the announcement, “Oh! I got you something. Well, I hope I got the right stuff.”

Billy didn’t go with him to the garage, but he did follow Steve with his eyes. Blue irises locked onto the shockingly familiar box of lager when Steve returned. “Where in the hell did you find that?”

That dopey, thrilled grin made Steve glow like the Christmas lights they’d thrown all over the open floor plan. “Dude, there are professional shoppers! I mean, that makes each can like…a twenty-dollar beer, and this is the only box I got, but this is the stuff you were talking about, right? The lady on the phone said they released other flavors, but you only said ‘lager,’ so it’s what I got.”

The cans were practically frozen from being in the garage, but Billy tore open the box as well as he could to pry one out. “I don’t think I’ve been given the okay for alcohol.”

“We can water it down.”

“You don’t water down beer!”

“Then split one with me. I’ve chilled glasses somewhere…”

He went digging in the freezer drawer and pulled out plastic wine glasses. Billy snorted as he accepted one. “This is so cheap.”

“Yeah well, even mom’s fancy bimbo friends break wine stems around the pool. Gimme that.”

Billy appreciated that Steve made it sound greedy, instead of pitiful. Billy had trouble with his hands.

The can snapped open with a satisfying metallic crack. Billy teased as Steve poured, “Is this your first rodeo? Look at all that foam.”

“We’ve got time. The pancakes are almost done.”

Billy pushed his pill organizer aside to rest his chin on his arms, listening to carbonation sizzle while he watched Steve’s shoulder blades move under his sweatshirt.

“When do you get cleared for pot?”

Billy rolled his eyes. “I don’t think I’ll ever be officially cleared for that—hey, hey!”

Steve had turned around, leaning back against the counter with a pancake in his hand and a full cheek. “Whuh?”

“You’re eating my dinner! Dump the skillet over a plate and get over here!”

Steve came around to sit on the stool next to him with a pancake in his mouth and—

“Are those my slippers?”

“You mean my slippers that I hadn’t worn yet? Yeah, I took them back,” Steve retorted.

Billy successfully knocked one off his foot. “They still had the tags when I got to them. So dibs.”

Steve kicked the other slipper into the living room. “No dibs if you don’t have both.”

“You’re wearing my sweatpants. I get your slippers.”

“I get your beer and you get my pancakes.”

“Not if you eat all of them! Syrup, now,” Billy demanded with a grabby hand gesture.

Steve disintegrated into giggles that made him sound as much like a little kid as movie heartthrob. He finished pouring and passed the bottle.

So it went. Back and forth. Back and forth.

First Steve took Billy’s time. The minutes that built into hours driving to and from the hospital. Then Billy ate his food. Steve covered the restaurant tabs until they switched to cooking at his house. Steve washed his clothes and wore them like his own. Billy took Steve’s car keys and drove for the first time with Steve practically hostage all the way to the tree farm.

“I didn’t take you for a real tree kind of person.”

“You have the ceiling space for a nine-foot tree.”

“How the hell are we hauling a nine-foot tree?” Steve practically blanched. “And with what car?” He adjusted his earmuffs because he’d rather be caught dead than wear a proper hat. Billy, meanwhile, strolled through the greenery and the first snowflakes spitting from the sky with leisurely ease in his beanie.

He laughed, “I like how you’re not saying no.”

Steve didn’t do much to hide his mimicry as he trudged behind Billy, who chuckled to himself. “For once it actually smells nice. The trees really cover up the cow shit of—oh my god, there are actual cows.”

A line of tables displayed other living decorations like wreaths and garlands, but beyond them was a field of black and red cattle. Billy moved under a line of wreaths hanging over their heads to see how they actually had blankets on their backs. “Are the cow jackets norm—”

Steve caught his mouth in a quick, firm kiss. The sound of their lips parting echoed in Billy’s ears. Steve’s fingers lifted off his jaw to touch something noisy above their heads. Billy dumbly looked up to see the tiny bells interwoven with a mistletoe wreath. “Careful. We have real mistletoe here. Not whatever plastic California has.”

He left Billy stupefied, having the audacity to stroll away with a whistle on his lips before Billy snapped out of it and nearly tackled him. “OW! Agh, fu-shit, Jesus—”

“You’re better about planting your feet,” Billy breathed against Steve’s earmuff. He held Steve’s arms trapped against his body.

“Are you always this mean when someone kisses you?” he strained in Billy’s tight grip. The gravel under their boots grit and rattled as Billy dragged Steve deeper into the trees. “Alright! I should’ve asked! I’m sorry—”

Steve might’ve stolen the first kiss, but Billy shoved him into a tree and took it back. He took Steve’s cold shock against his lips, until hot breath warmed them up between nervous stares. Then Billy took his lips, his tongue, the taste of the mint brownies Steve ate on the way here. The cold tip of Steve’s nose pushed into his cheek, and Billy’s heart felt fragile against the softness of Steve’s mouth.

His breath trembled as he asked, “Why did you do that?”

Why do you give me rides? Give me food? Why do you cook every night? Why did you give me a bedroom? Will you let me into yours?

Steve’s arms around his waist moved, tightening a little but also moving up Billy’s spine as if to comfort him. To anchor them together. Steve swallowed, and the fragility in his eyes made Billy’s throat hurt. “I didn’t get to the first time.”

Billy couldn’t stand it. He pushed Steve’s earmuffs off in his effort to press his face against Steve’s neck. To absorb the delicious little sound that escaped him when Billy’s cold nose found the warm pocket inside his collar.

Billy didn’t think he’d be able to kiss anyone ever again.

Not after…

But all he wanted was to keep Steve’s lips on him. To steal him away like some fairytale winter troll and either keep him or devour him if he tried to leave.

“Billy?” His name was muffled against his own scarf, so tightly did Steve hold onto him.

But if Steve was taking…maybe Billy could let himself be stolen again.

“When we’re home…” he sniffled on his way back up to standing on his own. “Kiss me again.”

“Can I kiss you now?”

Billy laughed through his tears. “No, you’re buying me the biggest tree your car can carry. And I’ll steal that wreath while they’re distracted.”

“You have the money to buy it!”

“That’s no fun.”

#harringrove #pondermoniums #stolen #ficlet #one shot #holiday fluff #snowy kisses #post s3 #billy hargrove #steve harrington

[klaushargreevesofficial]

call my bluff, call you “babe”

steve harrington x robin’s best friend!reader

requests: heeey could you write steve harrington x fem! reader where she is robin’s best friend and she had a crush on steve during high school but he never notified her but one day she went visiting robin during her work and steve falls in love with at first sight (like she has a different personality from robin, she has like a bubbly personality) ijkohghjjkk thank you so much !!

Steve falling for robin’s best friend and her being skeptical bc she liked Steve in high school

title from taylor swift’s “it’s nice to have a friend”

word count: 4,381 (!!)

warning for cursing because i have the vocabulary of a 12 year old boy

“so you don’t care about me, is what I'm hearing.”

“god, you’re dramatic, y/n,” robin laughed, trying to pull on her shoes while navigating around her room. she was failing to maintain her balance, and every clumsy hop around her room served as punctuation of your premature loneliness. Robin was heading to work, an early morning after your late night sleepover. curled up to your ears in her sheets, your eyes followed her around the room. 

“I can't believe you’re leaving me to go hang out with steve harrington.” you punctuated your statement with a faux gag. Robin replied with a noncommittal hum and leveled her eyes with yours, serving to agitate you more. 

“I'm not hanging out with him. I'm trying to make money so I can afford all of the expensive candy you like for movie nights.” finally dressed and ready for work, robin sat on the edge of her bed. “and you,” she poked your head, “would like him, he’s not that bad anymore! annoying? yes! but an asshole? not at all.” 

listening to her lift steve up made you uneasy. all through high school, steve had been your dream boy. hadn’t he been everyone’s? with the hair, the eyes, the swagger in his step as he walked past you in the hallway...you just about died thinking about it. how embarrassing, you thought. having a crush on steve, the untouchable asshole of your formative years, was about as out of character and cringey as you could have gotten. he never spoke a word to you except to ask to copy off of your homework, and even then, he called you by the wrong name. but god, that boy was pretty. 

after graduation, you did your best to avoid steve at all costs. not that he would notice or care, but rather for your sake. it was embarrassing to recall the amount of times you had imagined him choosing staying at your house over a party, or fantasized about running your fingers through his hair. it was your character flaw that you decided to ignore and actively suppress. steve was an asshole, and you recognized that. thus, the active forgetting of steve harrington.

 the plan to gradually forget about your schoolgirl feelings for steve had been working, working really well. you’d stopped obsessing over that one time he had accidentally bumped your shoulder in the hallway (and walked away without apologizing, thank you very much), and you couldn’t even remember what color his eyes were. then robin sauntered into your house with her spare key and an unperturbed way about her, proclaiming she landed the mall job and “y/n, you’d never believe who my co-worker is.” and then the humiliation that came with liking steve came rushing back.

 did you resent steve? not at all. but at certain points, when you were at your lowest, you wished he could feel as lowly and unimportant as him and his adolescent goons had made you feel. sometimes, though you would never admit it, you wished steve harrington would pine after you, simply so you could brush him off and crush his pretty boy heart as he had crushed yours in high school. but thoughts like that made you feel bad, and were definitely not feasible. the only time nowadays that you had a vague hatred towards steve was when robin went to work. screw him for winning over your best friend too. 

“go to work, buckley. when you come home, i’ll be here, in this spot, borderline comatose. wake me up then.” you turned to your side and closed your eyes.

“maybe you could come see me at work, y/n! i’m sure my parents would much prefer that, rather than you lounging in my house all day.”

 “mmm, they love me,” you replied, already slipping back into a half-asleep state.

 ------------------------

“y/n!” robin exclaimed. “wait, is that my shirt?” you stalked into scoops ahoy, dark circles under your eyes. you had awoken after another 3 hours of sleep, and after 30 another minutes of being alone in robin’s house, you decided to finally bite the bullet and visit her at work. there was no motivation besides boredom, loneliness, and the hope that robin’s offers of free ice cream when trying to coax you to come still stood. 

“i’m exhausted. can i get a vanilla cone?”

 “i don’t see you opening your wallet to pay, y/n,” she said, her motions towards the freezer contradicting her words. she scooped a cone for you and one for herself, and you guys chuckled at how quick robin was to shell out ice cream that would probably come from her paycheck. leaning against the counter, you reveled in the silence that settled as you ate your ice cream. you cherished these moments with robin, where you guys could just enjoy each other’s presence, words unnecessary. for as much as the two of you talked, they didn’t occur often, but when they did, they were peaceful. 

robin and you both were enjoying the serenity of the moment, and then there was steve. loud, doors swinging, calling (or shouting, rather) for robin. instantly, you were on edge, and robin sensed it. she was aware of your past feelings towards steve, but unaware of how vast and intensely they spread. she was there when you’d comment quietly to her how nice he looked in his jeans, but absent for the doodling of “harrington” in hearts on the margins of your papers. 

seeing steve was a gust of wind in your hair and a suckerpunch to your gut, simultaneously. rigid, ice cream dripping down your hand, you turned to robin, who, despite being engaged in a conversation with steve about their break schedules, was subtly keeping an eye on you, making sure you were okay. “uh, robin?” both heads turned towards you, the first time steve had acknowledged you. the “ahoy” on their sailor hats was so aggressively there and ugly, it only served to make you more anxious. 

“is this…?” steve gave robin a look as if to communicate something to her, something secret, and you knew immediately what---or who, rather---he was referencing. stacey.  he thought you were stacey. stacey was robin’s beau, who you had listened robin talk about, cry about, gush about, for weeks. you felt blessed, as robin’s best friend, to be able to coach her through her first relationship, which you understood must be extra difficult as a closeted gay woman. robin never had any shortage of stacey related topics to talk about, and you were glad to serve as a sounding board. you’d always just assumed you were the only one robin could bounce her thoughts off of, especially because of her sexuality.

 steve thought you were stacey. which means...steve knew robin’s best kept secret. of course steve knew. robin had been preaching about how great and un-assholey he’d become since graduation, something that would only be tested and tried by robin’s candid confession of who she loved. you felt stupid for not having figured it out earlier. steve knew.

 “no, harrington,” you piped up, finally regaining your ability to speak for the first time since steve had kicked open the door to the Scoops backroom. “my name’s y/n, and we actually went to high school together. i’d say i’m surprised you don’t remember me, but you were an asshole back then, so….” you let your voice trail off, expecting a snarky remark back from the boy in front of you. steve knew. 

the only person behind the counter to pipe up was robin. “steve, this is y/n, my best friend, who is acting, surprisingly, much like one of those assholes she constantly proclaims to hate.” although she was addressing steve, her eyes were locked with yours. there was a jovial tone to her voice, she was clearly not upset with you, but you tilted your chin out in defiance, and tossed the remainder of the ice cream cone away. steve knew. he was quiet. “y/n,” robin began, her voice calm, “i’ll meet you at the Gap on my break. 2:45. go cool off, please?” you took a peek at your casio calculator watch. you had 45 minutes to kill. you gave her a curt nod, and completely disregarded silent steve as you walked out of the ice cream parlor. what had just happened? 

no, you didn’t mean to completely be a dick. it was hard to dissect your feelings. it certainly wasn’t fair for you to be upset that robin told steve her secret. you were proud she felt safe enough to share that important part of herself with him. if anything, you were more upset that of all the people in Hawkins, she chose your self-proclaimed, one-sided enemy.  but still, unfair. and...you sighed. steve hadn’t even said anything to you. could you blame him? he didn’t remember you, y/n, get over it, you thought. how long were you going to let your internal struggle with steve dictate your actions? especially now that there was a chance at a...mutual friendship of sorts, through robin. had you not fucked that up by the scene you’d just caused.

 seeing steve dredged up a lot of negative emotions, you realized. it was embarrassing, especially because everything you and steve “had” was fabricated in your brain. one sided, imaginary, call it what you want. and yet, here you were, harboring real, genuine hurt. at what point does an adult let go of these childish fantasies and quit playing the victim? had you only hurt steve’s feelings (which you weren’t entirely sure you did, seeing as he was just so quiet), maybe you wouldn’t have had the mindset shift, but you could tell robin was upset with your petulant behavior. and quite frankly, you were tired of holding on to high school. you turned on your heel, chuck taylors squeaking against the shiny mall floor, and walked back to scoops ahoy.

 the parlor was empty. no one lounging at the tables, cheerily eating a sundae. you assumed this was why steve and robin were huddled in the back room, having a hushed conversation that you could only hear remnants of. you chose to ignore steve yet again, but this time simply to give you the guts to ring the service bell repeatedly. if you pretended only robin could answer, it was easier to be annoying. she was used to you. so, with a heavy hand, you rang the bell. ding. ding. ding. ding. as you poised to ring it once more, steve opened the backroom door, scooper in hand.

 he let out a breath of what you marked as relief. maybe he’s just glad you wouldn’t actually be ordering ice cream, you thought, until he said, “i was hoping it was you.” 

“oh?” you spluttered, forgetting your whole purpose for returning to the ice cream shoppe. 

“yeah, y/n, i just,” he sighed as if to organize his thoughts. “you were right when you said that i didn’t remember you from high school because i was a pompous dick.” 

“i didn’t say those words!” you defended, then gestured for him to continue. 

“well, you might as well have. i just wanted to apologize, because i really sucked back then. i’m working on it.”

 were you ever expecting an apology from steve? no. maybe a few months ago you would have revelled in this, would have eaten it up and made him beg for forgiveness. but at this point, you had changed, and you felt that he didn’t even have to apologize. well, for much, at least.

 “you’re good, steve. i’m sorry for caring so much about social hierarchy. it probably isn’t even fair for you to apologize to me.” you shrugged.

steve leaned his elbows on the counter, next to the register, and thought for a moment. “fairness is subjective though, isn’t it? like, what’s fair to you might not be fair to me, or vice versa.” 

--------------

after you and steve had apologized to each other in the parlor of Scoops Ahoy, you, him, and robin had been inseparable. no outsiders would ever be able to tell that there was ever a time when you and steve weren’t on good terms...or on any terms for that matter.  as time progressed, you’d now easily call steve one of your best friends. you rarely were not at scoops ahoy, hanging out in the backroom and avoiding their managers. steve had an open invitation to your movie nights, now, although he wasn’t yet granted key privileges like robin was. (you were sure your parents would kill you if you ever gave steve harrington a key to your house.) you’d sat backseat in steve’s car as he and robin scream-sang songs you didn’t know the words to. steve and robin had a bond that you could never begin to understand, and you and robin had one steve could never understand.

 where did that leave you and steve? working on it, for sure. he was funny, intelligent, and quite personable. he was a great friend to robin, and a great friend to you. you felt bad for writing him off so soon. nothing was difficult with steve. you guys had split and shared plenty of burgers at the local diners, and often the two of you would go to the video store, where you educated steve about movies and their importance. steve was clingy, more so onto you than robin. he always wanted to come over, or wanted you to come hang out, or begged for you to tag along when him and robin went on an adventure. 

once, steve had sat you down with a very serious look in his eye, visibly nervous, and declared that you were his best friend. he didn’t know what a best friend felt like, he said, but since you were the person he liked to spend time with the most, it must be you. before you could reply with a similar sentiment, he had added “and robin. but she knew that.” 

so, yeah, things were good. and they remained good for months.

and then the switch flipped, and steve started skipping trio adventures, and calling off of work on days robin worked. calls were fielded, and whenever you caught him in the streets, he brushed you off with a “hey y/n” and a “gotta go.” you were worried, because he was isolating himself with no explanation. there was hardly a ghost of him in the spots the three of you frequented “what’s wrong with steve?” you had asked robin when you first noticed his prolonged absence. robin hadn’t brought steve up for a week, which was odd. normally conversations were peppered with his name, although you and robin had always tried your hardest to pass the in real life bechdel test. 

robin’s response of “i don’t want to talk about him,” confirmed your sneaking suspicion that something had occurred for steve to become so cold. robin and steve were two of the most easy going people you had ever met, so for them to have had an argument seemed far fetched. robin’s stoney features after you had mentioned his name, however, made it obvious to you that an altercation had happened. 

----------------

“what are you doing here?” steve stood behind his door, keeping it open only a hair so you couldn’t wedge yourself inside. 

“what is going on with you?” you asked coldly. the time for reaching out gently had passed.  “you’ve been absolutely ignoring robin & i, and for what, you asshole?”

 “oh shit, is she here?” his eyes scanned his front lawn frantically, in search for robin. “you shouldn’t be here, y/n.”

 “good thing you aren’t in charge of telling me what i should and shouldn’t do, dad. if you don’t talk to me...i’ll..i’ll scream!” 

“go away.” he motioned to shut the door. 

surprising him by how compliant you were, you turned on your heel and trotted down off of his front porch into the lawn. pleased with himself for getting you away so easily, he closed the door and turned the lock. as soon as you heard the lock click, and watched steve skate away through the window, you planted your feet and took a deep breath. 

and then you were screaming. god, you hoped his parents and neighbors weren’t home, because here you were, in steve harrington’s front yard, wailing. you were screaming bloody murder, pausing to catch your breath with all of the cadence of a baby’s cry. you started from a yell and transitioned into a scream. you screamed in every musical scale known to man. you screamed loudly, and you screamed even louder than loudly. your voice box was your portable “ring for service” bell. so, you exercised it.

it felt like years, although it was only 30 seconds of sound until steve came running out into his front yard. he was trying his best to be angry, asking you “what the actual fuck, y/n,” but he was stifling laughter. 

“i told you i would, steve.”“you’re so infuriating!” he let out a frustrated chuckle, and carded his hands through his hair, tugging. “and i’m,” he sighed, facing you with a hollow look in his eye. “i’m in love with you. god, i’m in love with you, and robin’s pissed. so i took a step away for her to cool off, and for me to,” he shrugged,”i don’t know, for me to get over it i guess.” 

for all of that screaming you had done earlier, you were now speechless. moments and moments, it felt like a million moments passed and there was nothing but silence. what were you to say? how do you respond to such a candid confession? finally, after what felt like three years of silence, steve cut his sad and unwavering eye contact and headed back into his house, leaving you there, feet planted, stunned into silence and stagnance.

 you waited a beat in his lawn, processing. then the only thing on your mind was robin. you made a mad dash to your car, shaking your key ring in an effort to start the engine faster. after speeding an ungodly amount, you reached robin’s house. you parked haphazardly in her driveway, shifting into park before you even braked to a stop.

 as you unlocked robin’s door, with your key labeled “robin’s” in big bold letters, she heard the lock jingling and came to the door. “y/n, i was just about to leave and come to your house! i want to go to a movie, is there anything good out?” 

“steve’s in love with me?” you spoke silently, feeling small, the gravity of the confession finally hitting you.

 “well, that’s not exactly a movie,” she tried to joke, but noticing the sullen look in your eyes, she sighed and took a seat on the couch. “yeah, he is.” 

“what the hell, robin?”  you took your usual seat to the left of her, sprawling your limbs out. “he told me you were pissed off.” 

“well, yeah! you broke your own heart in high school over him, and you were sick for years. imagine if he actually broke your heart? you’d be inconsolable.”

 “for him to break my heart, i’d have to feel the same way, dingus.” you poked her arm. 

“are you stupid?” she deadpanned, causing you to let out a shocked laugh and sit up straight.

 “robin!” you gaped. “i am not in love with steve!” 

“okay, you’re stupid,” robin said again, sending the two of you into a fit of giggles. you loved robin so much, that sitting there, laughing and talking about boys was enjoyable, and you almost forgot the two of you were talking about steve. your best friend steve. robin always knew you better than yourself, though, so her implications about your feelings for steve made you think. were you in love with steve? every memory the two of you had shared flashed through your brain like a movie montage. you and steve ordering two different entrees, and then splitting them. steve sneaking you into his house, past his parents, so you could lay in bed and read comics. steve letting you cling onto him during scary movie night, robin calling the both of you pansies in the background. that one time steve called himself daddy and your stomach did a little flip. 

“oh fuck, robin, i think i’m in love with steve,” you groaned, burying her head into her shoulder. everything was made complicated by this realization, you knew. robin and steve weren’t even on speaking terms because of this, and you hadn’t even been involved at that point. and you didn’t even respond to steve when he told you. he was probably so upset. further than that, what would robin think if you and steve were to like...try and get together? would she be mad? what would that mean for the three of you as a unit?

you relayed all of these feelings, thoughts, and questions to robin. although she was close to the situation and probably biased, you still trusted her the most to give you accurate and smart advice. her answers always were right, because she knew you better than you knew yourself. robin assured you that her and steve hadn’t explicitly fought, per se, but she had let him know how she felt about the situation and advised him to step away and sort himself out. but no argument had occurred, contrary to your imagined idea. there were no “bad terms” between the two of them, and robin said she felt like if she saw steve this weekend, they’d fall back into their normal relationship and banter. this soothed you. 

“but if...if steve doesn’t hate me, and something like, happens, how would you feel?” 

“first of all, y/n, you’re dramatic,” you nod in agreement. “as long as he’s not an idiot, and you’re not an idiot...i suppose i will be okay. as long as you’re not, like, gross or anything. but i trust both of you.” 

and that, honestly, was all you needed to hear. after pinky promising you would come back to robin’s house later and tell her everything, you left as quickly as you had come, whipping out of the driveway and going back to where your day’s adventure had first started: steve’s place.

 you felt like you were walking on eggshells around steve, and although you were so excited you wanted to scream (again) and bang on his door, you channeled all of your nervous energy into a doorbell ring and rocking back and forth on your heels. when steve came to the door, he looked sadder than you left him. his hair was wild, his eyes red.

“i love you,” you stated simply, but you felt like your words fell short. how do you put so much emotion into 3 words? there was no way that this could encompass what you felt for steve. you paused. “there’s no way that those words can encompass what i feel for you.”

 ------------

“you’re fucking annoying, steve,” robin stated, tossing a piece of popcorn at him as she stood up to leave. it was movie night at his house, and although he wasn’t really doing anything, him and robin were engaged in some playful banter. steve had made some comments about the poor cinematography of the movie robin had chosen, and she was displeased. you were situated snugly in steve’s lap, his arms wrapped around your waist. you vocally agreed with robin because, yeah, steve was annoying, and he gave your hip a pinch, making you jump.

 “asshole!” you yelped, peeling yourself off of him. 

“you love me,” he commented, not incorrect. 

“yeah, but you’re annoying.” you and robin were a united front, always, despite what you and steve’s relationship status was. you wrapped your arms around her tightly. “drive home safely, please.” she nodded and tipped an invisible hat. 

“i always do, y/n. you two lovebirds have fun, but not too much fun, because we have work tomorrow morning, steve!” she made a hand motion indicating that she was watching him, moving two fingers from her eyes to point at him. 

“aye aye, captain! get some rest, you’ve got a lot of ice cream slinging to do tomorrow. i’m thinking i’m going to hang in the backroom for a little bit.” he grinned as robin groaned, letting herself out of the front door with a sing-songy “goodbye.” 

“c’mere, love,” steve said, looking up at you from the couch. you gave him a big smile and returned to your seat in his lap, straddling him. 

this was the only thing that was different about movie nights now. you and steve would spend the night together afterwards. steve was your boyfriend now. could high school you believe it? you ran your fingers through his hair, giving him a soft kiss on his forehead. “i know you have work tomorrow, and i wanna spend as much time as possible with you, but i’m really tired,” you mumbled, laying your head on his shoulder.

 he nodded with a smile. “that’s okay, baby. let’s lay in bed, we’ll kiss a little, and i’ll let you sleep.” he pressed a kiss to the side of your head.

 as soon as the two of you were situated, face washed, pajamas on, covers pulled up to your chins, steve turned to you and pushed a piece of hair out of your face. “i can’t believe i have the coolest girlfriend ever.” “i can’t believe you’re this cheesy, harrington,” you replied, but his words made your chest warm. you were the farthest thing from cool, and all you had ever wanted was steve to think you were cool. although he was, at this point, not a very good judge of being “cool,” because he had evolved into less of a high school king and more of a loveable dork, you were still elated to hear this from him. steve thought you were cool. and you weren’t, clearly, but he wasn’t either. you pressed a kiss to his lips gently, a smile permanently etched onto your face. “i love you, dingus.” 

#didn't know how to end this but what's new #nothing like a hurricane to make me finish my wip! #requested #request #Steve harrington #steve #harrington #Steve Harrington imagine #Steve harrington imagines #Steve harrington headcanon #Steve harrington headcanons #Steve harrington fanfiction #Steve harrington fanfic #Steve harrington drabble #Steve harrington x reader #Steve harrington x y/n #Steve harrington reader insert #Steve harrington fluff #Steve harrington angst #st3 #stranger things #stranger things imagine #stranger things reader insert #stranger things headcanon

[thephantomofthe-internet]

Stupid Cupid

Steve Harrington x Reader

Author’s Note: So, two important things to note here: one, this is for @moonstruckhargrove‘s 1k Challenge, which ended two days ago I know. Two, in regards for this being late, I have a reason! I started some fucking angst with both Billy AND Steve and it...fine. And then I just hated it and it was over 6k and I just had to scrape it all. So now we have some fluff and longing, which I’ve probably written five times and is probably boring. BUT when I say I’ll do something, I do, so enjoy I guess

Tag List: @hargrovesgoldilocks @moonstruckhargrove @casaharrington @denimjacketkisses @lilmissperfectlyimperfect @thechickvic @alex--awesome--22 @so-not-hotmess

Word Count: 2,995

Warnings: cheating, maybe swearing?

Prompt: 11. I love you, you enormous pain in my ass 

You’d been dancing around the subject for a month and a half.

You really shouldn’t have been, but you were scared.

You’d started dating Billy the second he arrived in town and Steve thought you were actually nuts. At first, it might’ve been because he was in love with you, but then he got the shit kicked out of him by the fucker and all bets were off. He didn’t tell you about the scene, because he didn’t want you to worry or worse, bring it up with the asshole that’d done it to him, but he didn’t hold back his disdain about him with you anymore.

But you had a feeling something more was going on. Billy was not exactly subtle about his disdain for your friend, but you assumed it would fade eventually, a sort of jealousy on both their parts. But that didn’t fade and soon Steve was actively pissing on your guy. And Billy, well he’d always been an ass about Steve, so nothing much changed.

What changed was Billy’s attention. Kristen McMasters got a boob job over the Christmas break and all bets were off. Billy was…enticed to say the least.

Everyone seemed to know it was coming before you. Everyone except Steve. He would’ve told you, he swore that and you believed him, but he was distracted by his hatred and missed the signs. And you certainly didn’t see it coming. You knew enough about Billy’s family to guess that the holiday season was not going to be a merry season for him. You thought he was stressed out by upcoming exams and finding the cash to buy gifts for his stepmother and Max, which Neil was forcing him to buy. You thought it would fade when you got to Macy’s birthday bash.

And it did, sort of. Because he abandoned you and, after you went searching, you found him with Kristen McMasters riding him, her fake tits bouncing wildly. You guessed it was a good stress reliever for him.

You blamed Carol, for not telling you what was happening in the room she declaring your missing boyfriend was in. You blamed yourself, for not knocking first. You blamed Kristen, for going off with your boyfriend and screwing him. But mostly, you blamed Billy for being unable to ignore the lure of big, perky, fake boobs. You blamed him for being such an awful boyfriend.

You thanked Steve.

He found you, screaming at Billy and crying as he dismissed your emotions and smacked Kristen’s ass as she scurried out, red faced and head hung in shame. He led you away, letting you cry it out in the car, and letting you punch Carol in her bitchy face, wiping the snotty smirk off her face. Best of all, he let you hide at his place when your mother sent you angrily over to the Hargrove-Mayfield house with the big batch of cookies she’d made for them for Christmas. You gorged yourself on baking while watching movies in his big empty house; his parents weren’t home till Christmas Eve and you hid a batch your mother had made in the freezer for them to have, switching the notes she’s written out from ‘To Billy, Love Y/N’ to ‘To the Harrington’s, season greetings from the Y/L/N’s’ and insisting Steve pull them out to defrost before his parents returned. It was a nice that turned into several days as you just kept hiding their, studying for exams and listening to music and forcing him to decorate.

He helped you heal over Christmas. He helped you when you had to return to school. He held you back when you found Kristen and Billy were a couple and bragging about how Billy hadn’t been satisfied before he ditched you. He drove you to school and brought you coffee and kept Billy off your ass. He took a lot of grief from the guy in exchange for him ignoring you.  It was something he didn’t even think twice about; you didn’t need his bullshit and Steve didn’t really care, it just made Billy look like an asshole.

And it was making Billy look like an asshole. Even Tommy didn’t think it was that funny anymore.

The semester shifted wildly in Steve’s favour-suddenly, the world seemed to go back into place. But Steve didn’t want it anymore. He didn’t want to be King Steve; he wanted to be the world’s best babysitter to Dustin and his friends and your best friend. Internally, he wanted to be your boyfriend, but he didn’t think that was gonna happen and so he held out for the friendship you shared.

Of course, you were more than ready to be with him, if he’d ask. Steve, post Nancy, had gotten incredibly good at hiding his feelings. He didn’t want to get hurt again and you couldn’t stand the idea of ruining your friendship or his comfort with you by bringing in silly feelings. You’d just suffer in silence and watch him be happy.

But it was sort of weird. As Steve gained his status back among your peers, the girls who hadn’t been so vocal in their interest in him began crawling out of the woodwork and into his lap. Maybe they had always been there and you hadn’t noticed, or maybe they simply jumped ship from Billy onto him. But either way, Steve wasn’t as interested in them. And that threw you for a loop-Steve was always a ladies’ man, a womanizer and a flirt. Every girl seemed to have a Steve Harrington story-an encounter or a near miss that bound them in some sort of gossip circle. You didn’t have one of these moments, at least not one that you’d tell anyone about.

Steve was trashed, positively trashed. You knew that he was gonna go nuts, seeing as how it was March break and he had the house empty, again, meaning no one to catch him trashed upon his return. Katy Andrews, a naïve junior, had decided to throw the annual Spring Break Bash at her house, her parents seemingly equally naïve as to leave her alone while they went to Florida to visit her grandparents. The house was destroyed and poor Katy was crying in the bathroom, moaning that her parents were going to kill her, and you had to get Steve back home before he blacked out or did something even more regrettable. He had already smashed poor Katy’s pool table in the basement, although you weren’t sure she knew about that yet. You intended to get Steve out before he started blabbing about it.

Steve wasn’t easily dragged off by most, but you grabbed him tight and kept him moving, hooking an arm around his chest as he whined about wanting to “fucking party!”You were just glad Steve lived close so you wouldn’t have to drive him anywhere. Once you were out on the sidewalk, Steve went with you without a hitch, a goofy smile like pure sunshine on his face. When you arrived at him house, you pulled the spare key from under the mat and unlocked the door, not bothering to try to get Steve to remember where he put his.

“Finally, I got you alone…” he slurred stumbling into the dark house, his warm hands coming to your hips as he walked, well tripped, up the stairs.

“Oh god, Steve, be careful you’re gonna fall down the stairs and take me with you.” You laughed, pulling his hands off your waist and hoping he didn’t fall from the change. He whined loudly as you pushed him up and into his room.

“Alright lay down I-”

“Woah woah slow down, baby, I like it slow.” His hands came to your face and you froze, unsure if he was kidding or not. But his lips came to yours, quick and warm and gentle. And you let yourself kiss him back, a selfish decision you rationalized as the only one you’d ever make with him. He broke away first, rubbing his thumbs over your cheeks, smiling softly at you “You’re so beautiful, Nancy…”

Your blood ran cold, but you maintained an easy smile as your heart broke “And you’re so drunk, Steve. Let me go get you some water so you’re not hung over tomorrow.” You said, patting his cheek gently and pulling away. Steve didn’t follow and you took the opportunity to let a loud and sad sigh trying to keep from crying. You’d done it yourself, letting yourself get your hopes up that he could feel the same way about you. You filled a glass, bringing it back upstairs. Steve had passed out and you decided not to wake him, letting yourself feel a bit of vindictive anger and letting him suffer in the morning. You had told your parents you were crashing at a friend’s house and so made your way downstairs, crashing on Steve’s couch, feeling smaller than ever.

You never reminded Steve of this moment, you didn’t want to embarrass the poor guy, but you distanced yourself a bit after that. You had had hope before that moment but after it you put some space between the two of you. You didn’t want to get hurt and you really didn’t want to get hurt by Steve. So you did your best to break away-you went out with other people, including one terrible date with Keith from the arcade. You partied without him, you drank and danced, you even hung out with Tommy and Carol again and got high in Tommy’s basement, watching Kristen beg for Billy’s attention as he kept his locked on you. It wasn’t fun, not nearly as it would’ve been to just get high with Steve, hot boxing his bedroom with a bag of cheese puffs between you. But it was what you needed to do. You needed to be away.

But Steve kept dragging you back.

He couldn’t lose you, he wouldn’t. He didn’t know what he did but he was determined to get you back. He chased you single-mindedly, determined to keep you in your life. And he did, you were never going away, and he knew that.

He made his moves in small ways too. He took you to prom, under the guise of him needing a date for when he won prom king, which he did by a landslide. He tried to not marvel at you in stiff taffeta as you shuffled around, trying to blow stiff pieces of hair out of your eyes as you sipped spiked punch with a bored expression. Prom wasn’t exactly your scene, but you had some fun dancing with him. He looked so handsome in his dumb suit and, later, in his cheesy plastic crown, you couldn’t keep your eyes off him. Despite not wanting to go at all, you had a lot of fun. It would’ve been better if he was actually your boyfriend, so you could be jealous when Tina tried to hit on him and make a scene. Instead you watched in silence, barely listening to Nancy as she whined about Jonathan’s whining about the music playing at the event. You wanted Steve to be happy and if that meant Tina then you’d deal with Tina next to your broken heart.

As summer came and college approached, you began to hit your breaking point. You had two options for college, one within driving distance and one on the opposite side of the state. You had been honestly been considering staying in two, a cheaper choice that could mean renting an apartment in between the school and your home town. But staying in town could only lead to more pain from your longing, a pain that could be ended simply by leaving him behind. Steve was staying in town, he was going to the police academy, so leaving could be the right choice.

But there was only one way to find out.

Steve had been working at Scoops Ahoy! all summer, leaving him smelling like spoiled milk all the time, but flushed with cash and a new found disdain for his classmates and their parents. You hung out with him at work often enough, meeting his co-worker Robin, who you thought Steve obviously had a crush on, until you learned about her girlfriend Heather. You felt silly after that, but it just reminded you that you had to tell him how you felt.

And soon.

You waited until July, because you had to submit your acceptance by the end of the month for community college and the second week for your second choice. You needed to know before you chose.

Normally, you wouldn’t invite yourself over to Steve’s house, especially without a call first, but something in your gut told you that if you tried to call, you’d chicken out. So you got in your car and drove, grinding your teeth and locking your eyes on the horizon, fingers rapping on the steering wheel erratically. You knew Steve’s parents were gone to the summer house in Spain, a trip Steve wasn’t invited on, but you didn’t know if Steve was home.

His car certainly was. You parked behind him, scurrying up the steps and knocking loud and fast on the door. There was no answer, but you tried again, ringing the doorbell, pressing the button a few too many times.

You heard Steve’s voice through the door “I’m coming! Jesus Christ…” He pulled the door open with a scowl that fell away when he saw you. He had obviously just been in the pool. You started to wonder if someone else was here. Still, you held your ground.

“Hey, Y/N, I didn’t know it was you, what’s up?” he said awkwardly, smiling tersely.

“I need to talk to you.” You said, pushing your way past him and into the dark house, dropping your bag on the table by the door. Steve followed behind you awkwardly, wet feet squishing on the tile. He didn’t know what you were here for, but he wasn’t exactly going to kick you out now.

You stopped in the living room, unlit and quiet. You turned to look at Steve, trying to settle your heart and breathing. “Should I go away for school?” you asked breathlessly, the words falling out of your mouth in a tangled string.

Steve’s eyebrows flew into his hairline “Why are you asking me?”

“Cause you’re my friend and I want your opinion.” You snapped, crossing your arms over your chest, foot tapping fasting on the carpeted floor.

“Well I don’t know, do what you want.” Steve said, your tense energy starting to feed into his own and making him tense and snippy.

“Well I don’t know! That’s why I’m asking you!”

“What does my opinion matter anyway, Y/N?” Steve sighed, looking away. His body language changed and you noticed instantly.

Because of course Steve didn’t want you to move away. He wanted you to stay right there in his pocket, where he could hold onto the hope that you’d one day catch onto these signals he was so sure were obvious to everyone and you feel the same.

“You clearly have an opinion, so let me hear it, I wanna hear it!”

Steve groaned, dread settling into his stomach. He didn’t like this conversation, he knew it would only end in a fight.

“Go wherever you want, Y/N, what does it matter what I think?”

“Because I love you, you enormously stubborn pain in my ass and I’m not gonna move away if you feel the same!” you cried exasperatedly.

Well there it was. It’s out. And Steve was deadly silently, staring at you unblinkingly. That was answer enough for you, you pushed past him and rushed towards the front door. You knew you were about to cry or scream and you wouldn’t let either happen in front of him.

Steve grabbed your arm, pulling you back and crashing you into his chest, his other coming to your face, kissing you hard before you could interject or try to pull away.

He’d frozen when you said that you loved him. Because that had never happened before. He’d said it once and the results were disastrous for his self esteem and mindset. But you loved him. It rocked him to his core, he didn’t know what to do. And then you were walking away and he knew he’d waited a second too long. And now he was kissing you and you were kissing him back and oh my god the world could end and he’d be utterly content.

He broke away first, he needed to take a deep breath, but he kept his hands firmly on your face, looking down at you with the softest, most love struck expression you’d ever seen.

“Don’t go, okay? I want you to stay here with me.” He whispered softly.

You couldn’t help the grin that broke onto your face “I thought you didn’t have an opinion?”

“I thought you didn’t feel the same.”

“How could I know how you felt if you didn’t tell me?” you asked teasingly, poking a finger into his chest.

“I thought you’d catch on to…the obvious signals I was giving?”

“And what signals would those be?” you asked, watching Steve flounder for an answer, which he never found. “If it makes you feel better, I was looking for proof that you didn’t like me at all.”

“We’re idiots aren’t we?” Steve asked, pulling you closer to him.

“Nah, we’re just…selectively smart.” You grinned, and Steve pulled your chin up to meet his lips. You pressed a finger on his lips, keeping you apart for a second. “Wait, you…you like…you love me too right?” you asked awkwardly, watching as the error hit Steve again.

“Oh yeah! Shit, right, I do! I love you!” Steve blushed and you pulled him down to kiss you again, clinging onto him as if your world was ending.

In a way, it was.

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