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allthingsfangirl101 · 6 days

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Extreme Proof – Steve Harrington

Tumblr Request by theamunsonsworld

My heart sank into my stomach when I looked up and saw Nancy Wheeler walking up to the ice cream counter. My stomach turned when I realized that it was Steve's turn at the cash register. I couldn't help but watch their interaction. They seemed. . . Perfect.

Steve and Nancy always seemed perfect. His smile was different. His laugh was different. His whole demeanor and attitude were different when he was around his ex-girlfriend. And I couldn't help but wonder why he settled for me.

I knew Steve and Nancy when they were dating. Well, I didn't know them know them. I grew up with them. I was in the same grade as Nancy and lived next to Steve and his parents. After they broke up, I could instantly tell that it had a bigger effect on Steve than it did on Nancy. She quickly moved on. He didn't.

Later that year, I started working at the ice cream shop within the new mall. I ended up being trained with Robin. Two months later, I trained Steve. It took him almost a week to recognize me as his neighbor. Once he made that connection, he put more of an effort into being nice to me. It wasn't until one night when the three of us got high while pretending to complete inventory that things finally escalated between us.

~ • ~

"Are you sure we should be doing this?" Robin giggled. Her laughter made Steve and I laugh.

"Probably not," he shrugged.

"Definitely not," I corrected. "But who cares?!"

All three of us started laughing harder. All of a sudden, Robin jumped up and ran into the other room complaining about being hungry. I looked over at Steve, both of our laughter stopping. I cleared my throat and turned away from him, taking a puff. Without looking at him, I handed the blunt to him. He took it but didn't let go of my hand.

"I'm really sorry, Y/N," he whispered.

"For what?" I asked, forgetting why I wasn't looking at him.

"For forgetting you," he explained, his voice still soft.

"Steve," I sighed, finally pulling my hand out of his.

"Y/N," he quickly said, stopping me from walking away. "We spent our entire childhoods living right next to each other. I constantly looked over."

"You did?" I said, even though I had told myself not to respond.

"Every time I looked over at you, you guys always looked so happy," he said, maintaining perfect eye contact. "You ate dinner together. You watched movies together. Your dad helped you with your homework. You spent every weekend helping your dad with yard work and helping your mom with housework. I was so jealous."

"Why?"

"You guys did everything as a family," he said. "And all I wanted was to be a part of it."

"A part of it?" I repeated. "Why would you want to be a part of my. . ."

Steve leaned over and cut me off by pressing his lips to mine. My mind was too cloudy for me to make any sense of this. So, instead of making sense of it, I gave in. I started kissing him back and things slowly escalated. We probably would've gone the whole way if Robin hadn't literally fallen into the room.

~ • ~

After that night, I didn't work the weekend. Another teenager asked for extra hours and I gave up mine. Monday, when I finally went back to work, I walked in and instantly made eye contact with Steve. Before either one of us was forced to fill the awkward silence, I went to the back room and found my name tag. I turned around and was about to walk back out when I suddenly wasn't alone.

~ • ~

"Steve," I gasped. "I was just. . ."

He cut me off by grabbing my hands and pulling me closer. "I think we need to talk."

"We really. . ."

He cut me off again by pressing his lips to mine. I was clear-headed and still didn't hesitate to kiss him back. As our lips moved in sync, I let out a small chuckle. My laugh made Steve slowly break the kiss.

"What?" He asked with a small smirk on his face.

"I seem to see a pattern developing," I teased.

"And what pattern is that?" He asked as he wrapped his arms around my waist.

"From what I can remember from last Thursday," I smiled, "you seem to only kiss me when you want me to shut up."

"First of all," he started to list off, "there are worse ways to tell someone to shut up. And second, that's not the only reason I kissed you."

"Really?" I couldn't help but ask.

"Of course it's not," he whispered. "The truth is Y/N, I have feelings for you."

My heart jumped into my throat as Steve stared at me with soft eyes. "You do?" I whispered, not sure what else to say to him. "Since when?"

"Since we were kids," he said simply.

"All that time?" I stuttered. Steve smiled as he reached up and tucked a piece of hair behind my ear.

"All that time."

~ • ~

Things changed after that. Steve took me on lunch dates, rearranged his work schedule so we were on the same shift, and even came by the days he didn't work and I did. As good as everything was for us, I couldn't shake this feeling that something was hovering over us. It didn't take long for me to figure out what was hovering over us.

When it got too painful to watch Steve take Nancy's ice cream order, I turned around and instantly grabbed the broom from the storage closet. I kept my back to the counter as I swept the floor. When I was done, I instantly started cleaning tables.

"I thought I was on cleanup duty," Robin said. I didn't dare turn around. I didn't want to watch Steve make Nancy's ice cream sundae. I heard Robin sigh before she grabbed my hand. She took the rag and tossed it onto an empty booth before dragging me to the small lounge we had back behind the counter.

"Talk," she demanded.

"About what?"

"Don't play dumb," she sighed. She lowered her voice as she continued, "I know what you're thinking, Y/N. Steve is not in love with Nancy."

"It's just. . ."

"He's not," she cut me off. "Steve and Nancy happened a long time ago. He's so much happier now, Y/N. Now that he has you."

"I can't help but. . ."

"What?" She pushed me when I didn't continue.

"I can't let go of the feeling that Steve still has feelings for her," I confessed. I looked up and saw Steve and Nancy still talking at the counter. "See?"

Robin turned around and sighed when she saw my boyfriend talking to his ex-girlfriend. "I'm sure you're reading into it," she stuttered. "I mean. . ."

I didn't hear whatever excuse she was struggling to come up with. Instead, I went to the back freezer and started unloading random things. I jumped when two arms wrapped around me.

"You know I love you, Robin," I said, trying to tease, "but not like that."

"Ha ha," Steve laughed sarcastically as he spun me around. His smile faltered when he saw the look on my face. "Everything okay?"

"Yeah," I cleared my throat. "Why wouldn't it be?"

I walked away and reached down, picking up a tub of our new flavor that's been selling fast. Steve walked over, gently grabbed it out of my hands, and placed it back on the shelf.

"What's going on, baby?" He asked, his voice lowering to a whisper.

"It's nothing," I stuttered, matching his tone.

"Robin told me."

My stomach dropped. I pulled my hands out of his and instantly wrapped my arms around myself.

"Baby," he sighed, gently grabbing my arms and pulling me closer. "We've talked about this. There is nothing between me and Nancy anymore."

He started to lean in to kiss me, but I gently stopped him. "We should get back to work," I said softly. I started walking out of the freezer, but he grabbed my wrist.

"No," he said firmly. "Y/N, we need to talk about this. We have talked about this. I know you think you aren't good enough for me, but, baby, you need to get passed those insecurities."

"Get passed them," I scoffed, stepping away from him. "Like it's so easy. Tell me, Steve, how easy was it for you to get past your insecurities with high school and being known as Steve "the Hair" Harrington? Not so easy, huh?"

"That's not fair," he sighed.

"You don't get it," I said, my voice breaking. "Nancy. . . She's. . . Nancy Wheeler is everything that I'm not."

"Except for one thing," Steve quickly interjected. "She isn't the girl I want to be with. She's not you, Y/N. And I want to be with you."

"You have to try to understand, Steve. This isn't easy for me. I mean. . . I've never had a serious boyfriend before and. . . Seeing you with her. . . It's not easy on me, okay? It just. . ."

"What?" He asked a little too harshly. "Try and explain it to me, Y/N."

"I can't," I whispered. "And if you can't understand it then. . ."

"Then what?" He sighed, clearly losing his patience with me.

"Then maybe we shouldn't be together."

Before he could agree with me or fight for me, I turned on my heels and ran. I ran out of the ice cream shop, out of the mall. When I got outside, I stopped for a brief second and let out a small scoff.

It was raining.

"Of course," I mumbled. I looked around, my eyes landing on the payphone. I ran through the rain toward the payphone. I grabbed some coins out of my pocket and called my brother.

"Speak!" He answered.

"Eddie," I said, my voice breaking.

"What happened?" His whole demeanor changed. "Y/N, what's wrong?"

"I think. . . I think Steve and I just broke up."

"What?!" I covered my mouth to muffle my sob as Eddie continued to angrily mumble. "I swear I am going to. . . It'll be the last thing. . . I'm gonna kill. . . Wait, what happened?"

"Nancy came into the shop today," I said, my voice shaky.

"Y/N," Eddie sighed. "Steve is not still in love with Nancy. It's all in your head."

"But you didn't see them together, Ed," I instantly defended myself.

"Look," he said gently, "I know you've had your issues with your self-confidence and with constantly comparing yourself to Nancy Wheeler, but, you gotta stop. It doesn't matter that Steve and Nancy used to have a thing. He's not with her anymore."

"He's with me," I cut him off. "I know. I know. But it's not like it was his choice."

"What are you talking about?"

"She broke up with him, Eddie," I said, my voice dropping.

"So?"

"That doesn't mean he stopped loving her."

"Y/N," he sighed. "I believe Steve when he says he doesn't love Nancy anymore. Why don't you?"

"Because why would he want me?" I yelled, finally letting out all my insecurities and frustrations. "I'm boring, Eddie. I don't have any friends. All I do is go to school, come home, do my homework, and go to bed a 9. Why would Steve "the Hair" Harrington fall for someone as boring as me? I'm not smart. I'm not funny. I'm not beautiful. I'm not enough for him, Eddie. Why does no one else understand this?!"

I slammed the phone back onto its receiver and turned around. Usually, Steve takes me home from work, but I had to get out of here. I saw the bus at the bus stop and instantly started running towards it in hopes of catching it.

One minute I was running through the rain. The next, I was falling. As I landed, I hit my head hard. I tried to think. I tried to sit up. I tried to move, but it was like I was frozen. Soon, the world started to spin. It wasn't long before the darkness took over. But right before it did, I thought I heard someone yell my name.

"Y/N?!"

* * * * *

I woke up a little while later being warmer than I was when I first fell asleep.

"I told you, Eddie," I heard my Uncle Wayne sigh, "she hit her head pretty hard. She may be out for a couple of more hours."

"She's awake," I heard Steve say with a small chuckle.

"How do you. . ." Eddie didn't finish his question when he turned around and saw me watching them. I was back in my room and the three of them were standing in the doorway.

I smiled when Eddie ran to my side. He was already sitting next to me and holding my hand by the time Uncle Wayne walked into my room.

"How are you feeling, kiddo?" He asked me.

"Okay," I shrugged. "I think. I mean. . . I'm a little confused."

"You slipped," Steve said, his voice softer than normal.

"What?" I stuttered.

"You were running toward the bus," Steve explained as he slowly walked into my room. "With the rain and the puddles, you slipped. I walked out of the mall right as you fell. I ran over to you, but you were barely conscious."

"Oh," I said under my breath. Suddenly, a thick tension fell between the two of us. If it wasn't for that tension, I would've laughed when Uncle Wayne hit Eddie's arm.

"We'll give you two some privacy," he said as he practically dragged Eddie out of my room. As soon as it was just us two, Steve sat on the edge of my bed.

"We need to talk about this," he said softly. "I can't stand the idea of you thinking you're not good enough for me."

"I just. . ."

"Please," he gently cut me off. "I need to say some things and I need you to hear them, okay? You are enough for me, Y/N. You are the perfect girl for me. I know you struggle with my and Nancy's friendship. If I could make it better for you, I would. The only way I can start to make it better is to tell you that I am completely, one hundred percent over Nancy Wheeler. I am also completely, one hundred percent into you. I don't know why you think you're not enough for me, but you are. You are enough, baby. No one is better for me. You make me extremely happy. You make it so I don't have to be fake. If I'm not happy, you know it. If I'm struggling, you know what to do to help me. I promise, Y/N, there is nothing between me and Nancy. Not anymore. Not ever again. I haven't had feelings for her for a long time. You make me happy. There is no one in this world I would rather be with than you."

With tears streaming down my cheeks, I grabbed his face and pressed my lips to his. He instantly wrapped his arms around me and kissed me back. Every insecurity, every worry, disappeared as we kissed. Steve broke the kiss, both of us breathing heavily.

"I don't just want you," he whispered. "I love you."

"I love you too," I said, my voice breaking. My smile fell as I continued, "I'm really sorry, Steve. I never should've. . . I shouldn't. . . I was wrong. I should've believed you when you kept telling me you were over her."

"It's okay," he soothed. "But next time, promise me that you'll talk to me if you ever feel something like that again. Please, baby. Promise me."

"I promise."

Steve smiled as I pulled him toward me and laid down. That night, I fell asleep with Steve's arms wrapped tightly around me.

#steve harrington imagines #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington #stranger things #requested imagine #joe keery #joe keery request #steve harrington request

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thyme-in-a-bubble · 9 months

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Congrats on 5k!! Can I get kisses of fire: Steve Harrington with "Get back down here, we're not done yet"?

a/n: thank you, darling!!! ♡ ♡

∼ gentle reminder that feedback, but especially reblogs are the way you support writers on here ∽

masterlist | join my taglist | join my 5k celebration!

As he yanked you back down against him, you let out a strangled yelp, the protest of your departure and the consequential end of your heated make-out session coming as a bit of a surprise to you.

“O-oh, we’re not?” you couldn’t help but chuckle as his grip dug into you like you were his most prized possession.

In between breathless pecks, he uttered, “you made me hard…” rocking your hips down against his for you to notice, the sparks of his excitement nudging against your own blossoming enthusiasm made you shiver, “a problem that you made and one that you need to fix.”

“Well, doesn’t that even occasionally happen when I just smile at you?”

Disappearing into your eyes, he corrected, “you only find out occasionally,” before inching in again to capture your lips, “you fucking siren…”

#5k celebration #lea’s writing #steve harrington smut #stranger things smut #steve harrington x reader #stranger things imagine #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington drabble #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x y/n smut #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington hc #steve harrington x fem!reader #steve harrington x reader smut #steve harrington x female reader smut #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington blurb #steve harrington request

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crappymixtape · 23 years

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steve harrington • requests // asks

( ANY REQUESTS AND ASKS FOR ALL CELEBRATIONS, SEASONAL THEMES, AND ONE-OFF INBOXES I GET, STEVE x YOU // mature content marked appropriately )

🔥 BECAUSE OF YOU, SERIES ( 500 FOLLOWER REQUEST )

PART 1 • PART 2 • PART 3 • PART 4 • PART 5 // ( 18+ ) ❝ an enemies to lovers fic with Steve? 💙 maybe they have to put aside their differences to fight upside down stuff and realize they actually have a lot in common 👀 • 18+ | ( 3.1k – little bit of king!steve, mostly angst with a dash of fluff, enemies to idiots in love, steve x reader )

👯 1000 FOLLOWERS CELEBRATION

"play it cool" – 1000 CELEBRATION REQUEST, requesting the cd because i think i need to explore more music and this seems like a good way to do that! | ( song x blurb with steve harrington x reader – this one is a lil fluffy, a lil flirty, a lil fun – recommended to listen to your song while reading! )

"don't go dark again" – 1000 CELEBRATION REQUEST, oh baby, you know I gotta ask for a song for my beloved, steve | ( song x blurb with steve harrington x reader – this just leaned real angsty, hurt / comfort for a monday morning – recommended to listen to your song while reading! )

"honey, i've got it bad for you" – 1000 CELEBRATION REQUEST, can i pls request a love note from steve <3 as for mood anything a little lovelorn and fluffy will do | ( love note steve harrington x reader, little fluffy, little lovesick, lots of sweet )

🎄 A VERY MERRY MIXTAPE – WINTER THEMED ASKS

"very merry mixtape" winter!theme REQUESTS are nested under the series / multi-part master list post *18+

👯 500 FOLLOWERS CELEBRATION

"don't make me say it" – 500 CELEBRATION REQUEST, you make me want things I can’t have prompt | ( 2k – mostly angst, dumb boi steve, and a little fluff right at the end to take you home, steve x reader )

"i hate you ( not )" – 500 CELEBRATION REQUEST, love a good enemies to lovers smutty fic – anything works, just lots of sarcasm and name calling to build up the tension • *18+ | ( 3.6k – a nice lil mountain of angst that rolls down into a big ol’ valley of smut, steve x reader )

"good love makes you hesitate" – 500 CELEBRATION REQUEST, don’t do this here prompt | ( 2.2k – all of the angst, tiny bit of fluff, best friends to lovers, steve x bff!reader )

💌 CRAPPYMIXTAPE INBOX ASKS

"you gotta help me, baby" – REQUEST -> fluffy one about you having a summer job babysitting and Steve always coming over to keep you company...idc just Steve being a massive simp as always | ( 2.3k, modern!day au, fluff, established relationship, steve x you, steve x reader )

"shut up and kiss me" – REQUEST -> fluff prompt #25 "shut up and kiss me” • you get laid off and go back to hawkins for the weekend to wallow with your friends and the gang seizes the opportunity to try and get you two dummies to figure it out | ( 5.7k – fluff, a little angst, mostly fluff, friends to lovers, steve x you, steve x reader )

"smoke and glitter" – REQUEST -> robin's been begging you to throw a party down yb the lake on your uncle's farm, like on another level, so you finally give in and who does she drag along? some co-worker from the mall and he's a total dork...right? | ( 2k, fluff, friends to lovers, steve x you, steve x reader )

💌 MOOD BOARD x SONGS ASKS

"idiots -> lovers" steve harrington x you, idiots / enemies to lovers

"valentine's day" steve harrington x you, soft / intimate *18+

"best friends -> lovers" steve harrington x you, bffs to lovers

"enemies -> lovers" steve harrington x you, enemies to lovers at work *18+

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reputationmunson · 1 year

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Hii I was wondering if you could write a Steve Harrington x Henderson!reader where she’s like 2 or 3 years younger than him and she’s in love with him and he knows about it but he pushes her away because of the age gap but when they’re in the upside down she gets hurt and he freaks out and they have an argument and he realizes his feelings for her. Sorry if it’s confusing :) she/her pronouns please

I am so sorry this took me so long! I’m already a perfectionist and then i’m even worse when it comes to requests because i’m scared of disappointing people that request things. I hope you enjoy and thank you for the request and being patient!

Bloodshed, Crimson Clover | s.h x fem!reader

content: angsty, mentions of unrequited feelings, reader is 20 and steve is 22, blood/injuries, the upside down, mentions of death, happy ending!, henderson!reader(i made reader adopted so that way there’s no indication that she has to resemble dustin)

Word count: 2.3k

What is it that causes such an incessant need for someone’s validation? Especially when that person has never even given you an inkling of recognition.

Is it low self-esteem? Is it to fill a void? Or is it because your “adorable”, “genius” younger brother overshadowed you for the majority of your life?

If you would get a B+ on a test, Dustin would come home and say he got the highest grade in his class. When you got your driver's license, Dustin had just invented one of his gadgets. Those were just two examples out of many instances.

You know it was never intentional or malicious. You considered him to be your best friend and your mom always talks about how excited you were about having a baby brother. You were adopted as a baby, but biology never mattered much to you. Your mom was your mom and your brother was your brother. No ands, ifs, or buts about it.

Your issue with approval didn’t start until your freshman year of high school. When you met him.

Steve Harrington, to be specific.

It’s cliche, right? The quiet girl who’s a bit of a loner having a huge, almost embarrassing, crush on the popular guy who practically runs the school.

Much like the rest of the girls, you fell victim to the fascination of Steve.

As expected, he never paid much attention to you. There was a time period during sophomore year that he would occasionally copy off your tests in science class. He tried to be subtle about it, but that only made it more obvious. It never bothered you, though. It made you feel special, however silly that sounds.

Then, the unthinkable happened. your little brother, who was still in middle school at the time, befriended Steve.

To say it was mind boggling would be an understatement.

Here you were, spending your first two years of high school trying to get his attention, and out of the blue Steve drives Dustin to a school dance. Ever since then, he became a glorified babysitter and mentor to Dustin. Even now, after all these years since Dustin has grown up, their relationship remained the same.

“I’m always gonna look out for you, buddy” you once overheard Steve say to your brother, making your heart swell.

You thought for sure this was going to be your chance to get closer to Steve, maybe you’d be lucky enough for him to fall for you the way you fell for him. A silly school girl crush had turned into a pining, unrequited mess. You felt like a fool the way you would try and put yourself out there, only for him to drift further and further from you.

“Hey, Steve, wanna watch a movie after you drop Dustin off at the arcade?” you’d ask and he’d reply “Sorry, I can’t. Gotta do laundry tonight” or some other half-assed excuse and pity smile to try and let you down easily.

The way you acted was cumbersome. Laughing at his jokes too loudly when they weren’t even really that funny, putting on your best outfit when you knew he was coming over, and baking him cookies as a ‘thank you’ for taking care of Dustin. You weren’t subtle about your crush, making it even worse that the feelings weren’t reciprocated.

At first, you chalked it up to being a sophomore while he was a senior, then being a junior once he graduated. After that, you blamed nothing but yourself. Were you not pretty enough? Not funny enough? Not good enough? Too upfront with how you felt? Too desperate?

The same questions run around your mind almost every night before you fall asleep, hoping that one day maybe it’ll hit him that he wants you just as much or maybe you’ll wake up one day and be over him, which is the more likely option.

At least it was, until tonight.

“Jesus christ, y/n, you could’ve gotten yourself killed!” Steve reprimands for what feels like the thousandth time. His arm supports your waist as your arm is wrapped around his shoulders as you walk into his house.

“So you’ve said” you grunt, barely audible due to the fact you feel like you won’t make it if you use up all your energy to speak.

A gate had opened to the upside down, which you only learned about two years ago. You all thought the gate was closed for good, but alternate dimensions seem to be a bit unpredictable.

You refused to let Dustin go with you and Steve agreed. Both of you had one thing in common; you’d do anything to protect him. It was only you and Steve that had gone and it wasn’t exactly how you pictured having alone time with him.

After what felt like hours of going in circles, you strayed from him in an attempt to find your way out and then planned to go back to him then lead the way back home. Steve ran after you, but ended up losing you.

All of the sudden, the weirdest looking creature you’d ever seen came out of nowhere, scratching and biting at you. You fought hard, finally grabbing hold of your weapon and killing whatever the hell was trying to kill you.

You laid there for what felt like an eternity, covered in blood with blurry vision and the feeling of slipping away from your body.

“Oh my god, y/n!” you had heard him shout and he sounded like he was a million miles away. “Nonono, what happened?” he kneeled on the ground, hands flew to try your wounds to try and stop the bleeding

“I tripped” you attempted to joke, hissing in pain when you let out a small chuckle. He didn’t laugh, though. Didn’t even crack a smile. He just looked at you with wide, concerned eyes. “I’m gonna help you stand, okay?”

“I-I c-can’t” you began to sob. “It hurts so bad, Steve”

“I know, I know, but we gotta get you out of here. I’m gonna clean you up and make you feel better, but you gotta stand up” He tries to help you up, but you can’t do it. “Just leave me. You need to get out of here. Please don’t make me move, please” you beg.

“I can’t lose you, y/n. We can’t lose you. Think about Dustin and your mom and your friends a-and me” you swear it sounds like he’s choking on a sob. What does he mean he can’t lose you? You barely mutter out an ‘okay’ and muster up all of your energy to move.

Somehow, you escape the hellhole and you don’t remember how you make it back to his house, but you do. You’re battered and bruised, but you're safe with Steve’s arm around you, nonetheless. You’re gonna have to find a way to send the weirdest thank you note to that demonic creature.

Steve runs around the bathroom frantically, gathering every possible first-aid item as you sit on the sink counter.

“We gotta get you cleaned up first, alright?’’ you give a small nod and he turns the shower on before rushing out of the bathroom, going as quickly as he can so you aren’t left alone too long.

“Here take these pain pills” he says when he returns, handing you the pills and water. “And I’m gonna put this stool in the shower so you can sit down, okay? Oh, and here are some clean clothes and towels” he’s talking so fast, still in a panic. “M’gonna be fine, Steve. Don’t freak out”

“Can you, um, get undressed by yourself?” he asks, avoiding eye contact. “mhmm” you respond and he helps you down from the counter. “I’m gonna be right outside that door. Let me know when you’re dressed”

Steve shuts the door behind him and sits on the floor right outside, just like he said he’d do.

The hot water bites at your wounds, blood and dirt flow down the drain and you can’t stop the tears that start to burst. You almost died tonight, but Steve saved you. He’s still saving you.

His words echo throughout your mind. “I can’t lose you’’ he had said. Did you hallucinate or something? Did he actually say that?

On the other side of the door, Steve sits with his head in his hands and trying to quiet his sobs. He’s seen and experienced things unimaginable, but the image of you lying on the ground almost lifeless makes him sick. He thought you were already dead. The feeling of his heart dropping to his stomach hasn’t gone away.

Steve has never thought of a world without you in it and now that he has, regrets swirl in his head.

He remembers you in high school. The introverted girl with an obvious crush on him that he never thought twice about because let's be honest, he was no stranger to girls being attracted to him. At the time, Steve only thought of you as the girl two years younger than him who would get flustered everytime he sat next to her in science class.

As time went on, he knew your feelings never went away, but it took him almost losing you to realize how he feels about you. A world without you in it would be a world not worth being a part of.

Steve hears the shower turn off and your groan as you get dressed. He quickly wipes his tears and tries to compose himself.

“Steve” you mutter, voice meek. “Are you dressed?” he asks. “yeah. Can you help me now, please?” he’s never opened a door faster in his life.

Despite the look of defeat on your face, you still look beautiful. Especially in his clothes.

“Can you sit on the counter?” he asks and you hoist yourself up with a grunt. “I’m gonna lift up your shirt then clean the wounds with rubbing alcohol. Might sting a little” he informs you.

When the alcohol hits your wounds, you grab Steve’s shoulder and squeeze. “sorry” you mutter. “s’fine. I know this hurts. I don’t mind” he assures you. “If you wanna talk as a distraction, that’s fine. It’s helped me in the past” he suggests.

“What did you mean when you said you couldn’t lose me?” you ask, getting straight to the point.

“I don’t think i said that” he lies. “you did” you counter. “I said everyone else couldn’t lose you” he responds. He’s too scared to tell you how he really feels, even after all this. “Are you really going to argue with a dying person?” “You aren’t dying. You’re fine”

“Then why were you crying?” you argue. “I wasn’t. I’m tired” he lies again. “You’re impossible” you scoff. “I’m impossible? You’re the idiot who ran away and almost got killed!” he exclaims. “I was trying to find a way home!” you defend yourself and he rolls his eyes.

He stops cleaning your wounds to look at you. “And how did that go? You do understand that you almost died, don’t you? It was so fucking stupid”

“Then why didn’t you just leave me like I asked you to?’

“Dustin would never forgive me” he states. “Is that all?” he hesitates for a second

“Yes”

“Tell me the truth” you demand. “That is the truth,” he insists. “I don’t believe you”

“Fuck, y/n! What do you want me to say? That if I lost you I would never fucking recover? That if I had to go the rest of my life without hearing the way you laugh, I’d never smile again? Or do you wanna know that the thought of you being gone would kill me and I would never forgive myself. Ever”

“Don’t say that if you don’t mean it or ‘cause you know that’s just wanna hear” you look down at your lap and a tear falls down your cheek. “I’m not and I hate that this is what it took for me to realize that I lo-” he stops himself and you look up at him with wide eyes. “Do you really feel that way?” you whisper and he nods, huffing out a sigh.

“Can you kiss me?”

“I will once I put the bandages on. I promise” he swears “They can wait. I’ve been waiting for five years”

He rests his hand on your cheek and you try to lean in, but whimper in pain when you move. “Sit still, baby. Let me take care you”

Steve Harrington just called you ‘baby’. If you found out you died and went to heaven, you wouldn’t be surprised.

Steve leans in slowly, pressing kisses to the corners of your lips before fully placing his lips on yours. You sigh into the kiss, feeling the weight of a thousand pounds being lifted off of you. His lips are as soft as you imagined they would be and his hand that cradles your face makes you feel safer than you’ve ever been.

“I love you” he whispers against your lips “I love you, too. I always have”

“Way to one up me” he teases. “You better get used to it ‘cause you loooovvvee me”

“Yeah, I do, so you don’t have to write sad love poems in your diary anymore”

“You read those?!” you gasp and he laughs. “Dustin told me about them. They sounded like shakespeare, you should write a damn book or something”

“Shut up and kiss me again”

He kisses you again and again, only stopping to finish tending to your wounds. When you start to cry over the scars you’re gonna have, he promises that he’s going to kiss and adore them for the rest of your lives. You don’t doubt him for a second

Tonight was equally the worst and best night of your life, but you’d do it all over again for him in a heartbeat.

thank you for reading!

#steve harrington x fem!reader #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x henderson!reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington angst #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington blurb #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington fic #steve harrington #request #steve harrington request

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harrywavycurly · 11 months

Note

Now i wanna know how you’d do Steve getting told he’s gonna be a dad after a one night stand because he’d handle it so different than Eddie🥹🥹😍

Hiii babes!! So I don’t know why in this one I went more like you and Steve are friends with benefits kinda sorta and you’re besties with Eddie. Don’t ask why it’s just where my mind went 😂🙈 so enjoy💖

-masterlist here

*You have something you need to talk to Steve about and he just wants to see if this sweatshirt is yours*

#steve harrington request #steve harrington au #steve harrington fluff #dad!steve harrington #steve harrington friends to lovers #steve harrington x best friend reader #steve harrington x pregnant!reader #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington social media au #steve harrington x y/n fluff #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x fem!reader #dad steve harrington #steve harrington series #Steve Harrington #my little fluffy haired baby #stranger things social media au #stranger things au

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inkluvs · 7 months

Note

also!! for ribs!! what abt tug w stevie 🥺🥺🥺

call in sick

a/n: i’m so sorry this took so long ily <3 (0.4k)

It’s cold, was your first thought, the air in your bedroom falling over the bare skin of your arms until you finally cracked open your eyes. Steve was next to you, the blanket covering his feet as sweat beaded along his forehead. It was a miracle really, how he always managed to run hot despite the temperature. It was convenient for you of course, your nose tucked into his chest as you shivered, but you always found it endearing.

Sunlight filtered in from the blinds, causing a little crinkle in Steve’s brow as it fell into his closed eyes. His soft snores gave way for grunts as he pressed his face into his pillow. He looks pretty like this, you thought. His eyes screwed shut and the hair on his freckles chest peeking over his t-shirt. Your thumb smooths over his jaw, connecting the marks.

You groaned in frustration after a few minutes, pressing yourself into the boy's arms before accepting it—you had to get up. Goosebumps rose on your skin as you slid out of the covers, a tremor running through your body.

“Shit,” You cursed, standing up quickly.

Steve’s thumb and index wrapped around the small point of your wrist, tugging you gently.

“Where are you goin’?” His voice was rough, remnants of sleep scattered throughout.

“‘ve gotta get up,” His lips grazed over the back of your hand, “work and such.”

“Call in sick?” His eyes were big and brown, tempting you as you think. He mouthed up your arm, pulling you onto the bed as he does. “I’ll take you out. How ‘bout that?”

“Steve,” You chastised him.

“What?”

“S’too much.” The crinkle in his brow returned and you smooth it over with your thumb, “You took me out last night.”

“We could stay in then, stay in bed all day?”

“S’nice,” you smiled.

#ivy’s inbox 💌#emma <3 #steve harrington (ivy’s version)#stluvs #steve thoughts #steve harrington #steve harrington request #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington blurb #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington x you #stranger things

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spoodrm4n · 2 years

Note

If you’re not sick of writing Steve with Henderson!reader, how about a fluff request where Dustin ends up in one of Steve’s sweatshirt/shirt because his sister stole it from boyfriend!Steve and Dustin’s mom thought it was Dustin’s and Dustin thought his mom bought it and the reader and Steve find it hilarious, especially when Dustin flips out?

Sweatshirt Thief

Pairings: Steve Harrington x Henderson!Reader

Warnings: None! Fluff, fluff, fluff!

Word Count: 1.3K

A/N: Note that you and Steve are out of high school and Dustin and the kids are sophomores!

“Mom! Have you seen a green sweatshirt anywhere?” You called from your room, searching through your dresser trying to find the sweatshirt Steve had loaned you a couple of weeks ago after a chilly night.

“Not that I know of, sorry honey.” She joined you in your room. “I have to go to work. You’re picking up Dusty from school, right?” You stopped rummaging through the dresser drawers, giving up on finding Steve’s sweatshirt. You turned to face her.

“Yes ma’am. And Steve is still good to come over for a movie tonight?” You smiled at her, giving her your best puppy dog eyes.

“That’s fine, dear,” She gave you a quick hug before she was out the door with a quick ‘love you!’. You went back to pulling out articles of clothing, hoping to find the missing sweatshirt. You sighed as you finished going through the last drawer, having no luck. You tucked all of your clothes back into their drawers as you heard your front door open.

“Y/N? You here sweetheart?” You smiled at your boyfriend's voice and popped your head out in the hall from your doorway.

“Hi Stevie.” You grinned at him. You watched his face light up as his eyes found you. He was bounding down the hall to you and pulling you into him, lips crashing together.

“Missed you.” He mumbled against your lips, hands grabbing at your waist. You slipped out of his grasp, hands flat against his chest.

“Missed you too, honey. I gotta go pick up Dusty in a few minutes, you coming with?” You trailed back over to the clothes strewn across your bed, Steve following behind you.

“Yeah that’s fine. Why’d you tear your dresser apart?” He picked up a pair of jeans of yours, folding them neatly.

“You remember that sweatshirt you gave me? The green one? I can’t find it anywhere.” You huffed, taking the pair of jeans from his hands and putting them away.

“I can lend you another one, pretty. I don’t mind,” he sat down on your bed, watching you put away your clothes. He looked you up and down, admiring the slight sway of your hips to an imaginary beat.

“I know, it’s just– that’s the first one you’ve given to me. And it was super comfy. I’m not sure it can be topped.” You shrugged, finishing up your clothes. You could feel his gaze on you. “I can feel you staring, Steve.” You turned around, hands on your hips.

“Can’t help it, you’re just too beautiful.” He grinned at you. You rolled your eyes, cheeks heating up. Steve was so good to you. He always made sure you never forgot how much he loved you. He beckoned you over, hands running up and down your thighs. He looked up at you and you cupped his face in your hands, planting a kiss on the crown of his head. One of his hands found its way behind you, grabbing your ass. You sucked in a breath.

“Come on, we gotta go pick up Dustin.” You swatted his hand away playfully, moving from in between his legs and out of your room. You heard Steve groan from your room and get up, footsteps trailing behind you. You picked his keys up from where he put them on the kitchen counter, tossing them to him. He caught them easily, winking at you in the process. You shook your head at his antics and opened your front door, stepping outside.

It was early November and it was cold outside. You could feel the chill of the air underneath your jacket and the sweater you had on. Your breath fogged out in front of you and you shoved your hands in the pockets of your jacket. You made your way to Steve’s car going to open the passenger side door, but he was stepping in front of you, opening it for you.

“Why thank you, sir.” You gave him a quick kiss on the cheek before ducking into the car. He closed the door for you and jogged to the drivers side, opening the door and sitting down. He started the car and backed out of your driveway, headed towards Hawkin’s high school to pick up your little brother. The two of you sat in comfortable silence; his hand resting on your leg, moving occasionally to shift gear, and the radio playing softly.

He pulled into the student parking lot and you got out, catching sight of your brother along with Mike, Lucas, Max, El, and Will all walking towards you. You smiled at the kids and waved, shouting at them to get their attention. The kids made their way over to you as Steve got out of the car.

“Are we taking all of you home?” Steve crossed his arms over his chest as they stopped in front of you both.

“We figured we’d be good friends to Dustin and walk him to his sister and her boyfriend.” Max smirked, nudging Dustin when she said ‘boyfriend’. He gave her a dirty look accompanied by a middle finger. You were about to lecture Dustin when your eyes caught sight of what he was wearing. Your eyes narrowed and your mouth fell open.

“Dustin! You’re wearing my sweatshirt!” You shoved a finger in his chest, catching him off guard.

“I thought mom brought this home the other day? It was in my closet!” Dustin pushed you away, looking at the sweatshirt that was most definitely the one Steve had given you.

“No, dipshit, it’s mine! I’ve been looking for it everywhere!” You punched him in the shoulder, earning some laughter from the kids.

“Actually, if I may intervene,” Steve stepped between the both of you, an amused look on his face. “That’s my sweatshirt, Henderson. I gave it to your sister a couple of weeks ago.” Steve gave him a goofy smile. Everyone was silent for a moment before Lucas started laughing so hard he was bending over, hands on his knees and almost out of breath. Mike and Max joined in with Lucas, El and Will were trying to fight back their giggles, and Dustin’s jaw had dropped.

“I’ve been wearing your sweatshirt all day?” Dustin yelled, dropping his backpack on the ground and shucking the sweatshirt off, throwing it into Steve’s face. You were laughing now, Dustin’s exasperation comical. Steve pulled the sweatshirt off his face as Dustin continued to freak out. Steve turned to you, handing it over, desperately trying to bite back his own laughter.

“Mystery solved.” He shrugged, turning back to face Dustin. “Get in the car, sweatshirt thief.” Steve pushed Dustin– who was now very red in the face– to the back door of his car.

“Maybe tomorrow you can steal his hair routine!” Lucas jabbed as Dustin got in Steve’s car. You smiled at the kids, giving them a small wave goodbye.

“Steve uses Farrah Fawc–” Steve slammed Dustin’s car door shut before he could finish his sentence. You got in the car, sweatshirt in hand and still laughing at your brother and your boyfriend. Steve got in and once his car door was shut, he whipped his head around to face Dustin in the backseat.

“You little shit. I told you not to tell anyone!” Steve swatted at Dustin, the latter moving to the seat behind you to get away from Steve.

“Boys! Come on, let's get a move on! The kids are watching you fight,” you pointed to Dustin’s friends who were pointing and dying of laughter at the two. Steve turned back around, starting the car and muttering a string of profanities aimed at Dustin. The car ride had gone silent and you smirked to yourself as you remembered a small detail about your brother. The both of them had already rocked the boat, but you were about to send all of you overboard.

“Dustin uses Farrah Fawcett spray.”

#steve harrington x henderson!reader #steve harrington request #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington #henderson!reader #dustin henderson

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elioslover · 10 months

Text

Employee of the Month -2-

EMPLOYEE OF THE MONTH -2- [Inside] - Steve Harrington x reader

PREMISE: Steve and Robin find themselves the newest employees of Family Video- a place you are well acquainted with. With a strange history and a chance to win employee of the month at stake, your Summer is turning out to be more than you bargained for. [enemies to lovers.]

WARNINGS: n/a. (use of Y/n).

WORD COUNT: 3.3k

Pt 1 [inside] Other Writing (harry styles)

🎞️🎞️🎞️

Glaring down at the time-stamped to the bottom corner of the computer screen, you sighed at the conclusion that Steve was going to continue aimlessly stacking video boxes every which way, completely out of alphabetical order, some covers evidently upside down.

A tiny part of you tried desperately to ignore such obnoxious behaviour, assured that it was not your problem to resolve.

But a greater part of you- one that was itching with such irritation- had you sliding out of your seat, converse strutting across the room straight to where Steve, clearly zoned out, was currently placing yet another video in the wrong section.

He heard you coming, prepared for when you came to a halt, video still in his hand as his head tilted to see you better.

A darling frown settling between your brows, arms folded across your chest, you gestured to the dwindling pile of boxes he had tucked neatly between his forearm and ribcage.

Steve looked at you sweetly, studying the soft shadows of your lashes dancing across the apples of your cheeks.

“Start over.” You chided.

He glanced between you and the shelf before him, finally acknowledging that his laziness had not gone unnoticed.

And whilst Robin was sure to let him get away with doing a half-assed job, scolding him at most, it was becoming rather evident that his newest co-worker was unlikely to do the same.

Steve just couldn’t understand how anyone could take this job so seriously. It was perplexing that someone his age could be so stern and lacking such leniency. It annoyed him as much as it seemed to annoy you.

“Only if you ask me nicely.” He mused, revelling in the dangerous discontent that swallowed your features, eyes squinting with incredulity. Steve thought you looked rather cute like this.

“Seriously?” you were still awed by his audacity.

Steve reached out and arbitrarily dropped a video box on the nearest shelf, loving the look of astonishment swallowing you whole- threatening to send steam spewing from your nostrils. Why did the sight of you so hot and bothered to fascinate him so?

“It’s important to be polite, darling.”

You inched closer, palms itching, skin tingling at his tormenting tone, and you didn’t stop until you slotted yourself into the space between the shelf and Steve.

Your chest was nearing his own, and Steve swears he feels a current of electricity sparking between the crevasses of your bodies.

You have to crane your neck to show him your whole face, putting on your doey-est eyes, bottom lip jutting out in innocence,

“Please screw your head on straight and re-stack these boxes.”

He can’t defy gravity as his head dips down toward your own, leaning closer- desperate to deepen this electrocution, to char and re-charge his nervous system.

“C’mon Bossy, I think we both know you can do better than that.”

You can smell all of him now; warm musk, clinical hairspray, and something so sweet and alluring you can only assume it's Steve himself.

Pressing up onto your tippy toes, fingers gradually grazing up his torso until your palm flattens gently across his chest, you ensure your lips are aimed directly at the bottom of his earlobe, and Steve’s body involuntarily leans further into your trap, breath hitching behind his tongue,

“Sweet, sweet, Steve. Shut up, and start stacking.”

Your hand, still firmly on his chest, gently pushes, and he stumbles back, leaving just enough space for you to slip out from your spot between the shelf, assuring he would grow to loathe the distance between you.

With a look of newfound intrigue, Steve's eyes widened, and you hoped that he would get a taste of his own medicine- perhaps his blood would boil like your own, even a quarter of the amount would do. But, to your dismay, his face morphed back into one of amusement- perhaps a tad enticed as he bounced back, taking a step forward to remove the space you had attempted to create.

His lids lowered, eyes flickering under the fluorescent lighting, a cheeky grin sweeping across his cheeks, doubling with delight.

He looks you over once more, lingering on your mouth- your bottom lip a hostage to your front teeth- before raising his free hand up to his forehead,

“Yes ma’am.” he salutes, and you scoff- mostly at the way your stomach warped at his words.

Looking up at him now, you can see his freckles with ease, how effortlessly they scattered across his nose, and his cheeks. He was beautiful, you thought- perhaps that word didn’t begin to describe him.

Before you lost your mind completely, threatening to get lost in the entirety of Steve Harrington, you slipped out from between his chest and the shelves, turning swiftly on your heels, not stopping for even a moment- not to confirm his gaze trailing after you, nor to return to your wooden stool- as you huff your way to the back room, face pressing into your palms, groaning so loud it wouldn’t be a surprise if he heard you.

🎞️🎞️🎞️

Steve was back at it, stacking like he had all the time in the world. Though, it seemed he was now putting them right side up. Leaning against the counter, you didn’t notice Robin as she crept up, joining and mimicking your stance.

You stayed that way for a moment, brows furrowed as you patiently waited for Steve to screw up again.

Robin watched you watching Steve, amused at the discomfort he caused without so much as opening his mouth,

“You’re gonna burn a hole through his head.” She warned.

“I’m trying.”

“Let me help then.” Robin put on her sternest face, hoping to be of assistance.

You broke out into a small smile, enjoyed the way it felt, and you leaned over and playfully shoved her balanced elbow.

But gratefulness for Robin’s presence aside, having Steve here day in and day out was an increasing concern, so you sighed out and practically whined,

“He’s gonna be the death of me Robs.” As an afterthought, you turned your attention to her, discarding the disappointment you had for Steve,

“You know you’re losing ‘soulmate’ points by being friends with him.”

“I’ll ditch him!” Robin jumped at the thought, though you were both well aware that she could be friends with Satan and you would still want to be around her.

With that in mind, it was time to find out more about the supposed ‘allure’ of Steve Harrington.

“So, he’s really different than in high school?”

“I didn’t know him then. But for what it's worth, he has a big heart.” she admits earnestly,

“Big head, more like.” you scoffed.

“That too… but for some bizarre reason, I’ve grown rather fond of him.” Robin is comforted by the numerous times Steve had proved his love and loyalty. Too many to count now.

“Hmph.”

“Trust me, he’s not so bad.” she bumps her shoulder into your own.

You think it over a tad longer, the desire to believe Robin is somehow stronger than your weariness of Steve.

“Well, Buckley, I suppose I have no reason to doubt you.”

“Soulmate points?” Robin’s eyes widened with hope.

“Two- three if it weren’t for Harrington.” you tease.

“I can make up for that.”

“Yeah?”

“Do you know this local band, Corroded Coffin? I got an extra ticket and I thought by now I would have managed to find someone to go with.” Robin asks hopefully, suddenly regretting going so full throttle after less than a week on the job.

“I love them! I’m actually friends with the guitarist!”

“No way! I’m so relieved. I was hoping at least you had heard of them, but this just gets better and better.” Robin feels the small hole in her heart promising to be filled,

“I have this t-shirt I made when I was fourteen and even angstier than I am now-”

“-Can't imagine.” you winked with a nudge,

“Shush. I cut the shirt up and painted the whole back with this like dragon dripping blood, and I feel it would be a real ‘screw you' to past-Robin if I didn’t wear it.”

She was hardly finished speaking when both of you were both gifted the pleasure of witnessing Steve- attempting to be sneaky- slipping past the shelves and walking straight out the front door, his head held high as the little bell sealed his exit.

“You see!” you turned to Robin, who looked as awestruck as you felt,

“Well, I can't defend that one...” defeat apparent as Steve rounded a corner and headed off to only god knows where.

“I’ll stop by the Gap on my way home and buy a plain tee. You can come over earlier and we can decorate it together… if you’d like?”

You would deal with him in a moment, far too caught up in your sudden weekend plans.

Heart gushing with an unfamiliar giddiness, already counting the seconds 'till Friday. So, you pressed on,

“I’d love that! Write your address down.” Robin gathered a stray pen and pink sticky note for your convenience,

“You’re the only good thing about this Summer.” you sighed, scrawling out the last letters of your street name before handing it back to Robin and beginning the process of packing your things for home time.

Trying your best to meander, collecting your sweater, a copy of The Birds you had put aside earlier, and even after fiddling with your keychain for a good moment, Steve had yet to return- but your frustration certainly had.

Saying your final goodbyes to Robin, you wished it was easier to put aside all of this nonsense and get on with life, but you knew where you were headed, and Robin did too, calling out,

“Say hi to Steve for me!” over your shoulder, to which you merely grunted and tossed a middle finger her direction.

Your plan was simple enough: head to the Gap, get the shirt, get out of here… maybe bump into Steve and give him a good scolding. As luck would have it, he was easy to spot, leaning against a bannister- not alone.

The girl talking to Steve was pretty- something that surprisingly stung- and she seemed keen on hearing whatever it was he was so enigmatically explaining.

The audacity of this man is seemingly ever-growing. Blatantly disrespecting you and your time- wasting it just like he had in high school.

You weren't standing for it any longer, not when Steve seemed to think blowing off his shift for a girl was worth the fury you were ready to unleash.

Head starting to ache, desperately seeking release as you stopped behind Steve, his thin blue sweater clinging to the muscles of his back...air! You need air!

Your legs were moving fast- your thoughts were faster. Entangled wires of displeasure, green cords carrying currents of anger and... jealousy? tangling and wrapping itself around your sanity, squeezes tightening at the thought of caring for Steve Harrington, suffocating you.

Simultaneously clearing your throat and tapping his shoulder, Steve snapped right around as if spat at by a cobra, eyes wider than ever, enticed by the impatience that had settled across your features.

Neither of you took immediate notice of the girl accompanying him.

"Excuse me," you finally addressed her, granting her a sickly grin,

"my boyfriend here seems to have forgotten we have plans. I hate to interrupt but..."

"Wha-"

"Come along sweetheart, we're gonna be late for the movie."

You linked your arm with Steve’s, sending a pitiful frown to the girl who was perhaps the most confused, but you reasoned that you were actually saving her a lot of trouble. If anything, you deserved a little praise.

So, with that justification, you tugged him along with you, forcing him to follow along like an owner with an unruly dog on a leash.

Steve knew he was in trouble the moment he had ‘snuck out’, but in his defence, his boredom had reached a tipping point.

He was sure you would chew him out when he returned- a big part of him looked forward to it- and even though he had been less than discreet, he still hadn't expected you to actually track him down.

Once you had practically dragged him back to the entrance of Family Video, you dropped Steve’s arm, your own resting on your hip with sass.

He looked you head-to-toe, amused at your sternly tapping foot, confused by the newfound look in your eyes.

Unreadable, you sighed and began walking in the direction of the whole reason you were still here; The Gap, but Steve wasn’t letting you go that easy, quickly falling into step, frustrated when instead of slowing down, you only sped up. He followed you all the way inside of the store, only resting when you began scanning the nearest clothing rack.

"What the hell was that?" he tried for your attention, a little flustered when you finally turned, glaring harshly,

"Oh, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to ruin your little... whatever that was," You gestured madly,

"but I wasn’t aware that flirting on the job was encouraged. I could've been swapping spit with Adam this entire time!” you pointed to an unknowingly, and uninteresting guy currently manning the checkout counter.

"I-"

"My shift ended fifteen minutes ago, Steve." you continued sifting through the clothing options,

"Yours isn't even half over." moving over to another rack,

"You left for twenty minutes."

"Counting the minutes ‘till you see me again, huh?" he schmoozed.

You found what you were looking for, grabbing the shirt before turning back to Steve, ignoring the obvious attraction you felt for his mischievous gaze,

"You're supposed to be manning the desk until closing time. Or did you suddenly forget that the second a girl showed you the slightest bit of attention?”

“I’m sorry!” his palms raised in surrender, he added as an afterthought,

"Sheesh, you're a little time bandit, aren't you?" and you only scoffed, heading for Adam, ready to pay.

You handed over your purchase, and Steve made himself comfortable between you and the counter, watching intently as you fished around in your tote for your trusty purse.

You had hardly started searching when Steve’s impatience took over and he reached into his back pocket for a loose dollar and handed it over to pay.

Your brows furrowed at the gesture, unsure of what to do next,

“Have a nice day, Adam.” You smiled fondly, eyelashes batting, testing the water for Steve’s reaction, and when his smirk slipped into that of a frown, you couldn’t stop the satisfaction simmering in your stomach.

With your new shirt- and Steve- in tow, you exited the Gap and started your trip to the parking lot, seeking the sanctuary of your car.

But, with audacity you had never had the displeasure of experiencing in a single person before, Steve decided to counter you, taking the meaning of test to a whole new level, by suggesting,

“Y’know, for a second there I thought you might be jealous.” as the words left his mouth, you stopped dead in your tracks, and Steve had to catch himself, almost bumping right into you.

Like lightning, you had turned to face him, painted with a look of pure horror,

"You're kidding, right?"

"Nope.”

He looked more certain now that he had seen your reaction, dripping satisfaction, and you felt so mortified it was time to consider running away and starting a new life,

"In what world would I possibly be jealous?" you brushed off, and Steve shrugged,

"I'm just sayin'. You seemed awfully worked up back there."

"Because my shift is over." you protected,

"Oh, please. You've hung around after shifts plenty."

"Yeah, because Robin was there."

Still at a standstill, paying no mind to the many shoppers weaving their way around the two of you, Steve felt hot under the collar- the slowly blooming need to be on your good side was struggling to stay at bay.

And whilst the way the permanent glare you reserved for him was more than endearing, Steve still really wanted your approval,

"Is my company that bad?"

"Nowhere near as good." you shrugged earnestly.

"That's not fair." he hardly withheld a whine.

"Oh?"

Your hand on your hip, Steve’s own reached up and rubbed the back of his neck, soothing the fact that you were seemingly adamant about favouring Robin without fair consideration. He was sure he was better company than you thought, you guys could easily have a fun time… and it would really make work easier,

"You guys just met!"

"And we've met before?" You tort, more annoyed when Steve’s face scrunches in befuddlement,

"Of course."

"Be real, Steve."

"We literally went to the same school." he really is puzzled,

"Come on. We did not experience the same high school.” You couldn’t believe you were even having this conversation right now, your car waiting so welcomingly in the distance, begging you to hop in and drive, but you wonder if Steve would just follow after, especially when starts to double down,

“Doesn’t mean we don’t know each other.”

“We don’t. You didn’t even know my name until the other day.”

Steve proceeds to recite your full name- birth certificate, even- before adding,

“I know you think we should've read better books in English, and I know you hated Chemistry- even more than I did. I don’t recall you doing any sports, I’m pretty sure you took an extra subject, and that’s just off the tip of my tongue.”

“Fine. We went to school together.” you conceded, shunning both the look of satisfaction he oozed and the way it sort of warmed you that he had in fact known of your existence. Not that it changed the way you felt about him… right?

“Do I get a point?” he teased the glee of a good-behaved toddler, soft brown eyes crinkling in a way that just begged you to keep looking at them.

If you stayed any longer, Steve would gain the chance to try and convince you he was a good guy, and even though he had been rather kind today, you weren’t buying it for even a second,

“You get a point for paying for the shirt.”

“I’ll take it.” He nodded far too proudly.

“Thank you.” You softly gestured to the shirt, needing to let him know that you were grateful, because even if he was an ass, he was a polite one.

His cheeky smile turns softer- a genuine acknowledgement of his willingness to help, and you find your own lips creasing up to join him.

Steve quickly determines that your constantly apparent anguish was appealing, but your sudden slip of softness seemed enough to have him on his knees.

Before he has the chance to tease you for giving in, you nod sternly and make it clear it’s time for you to go home,

“Lock up properly when you leave, Harrington.”

Hating to see you leave, but loving to watch you go, your hips sway with the breeze, and Steve can’t help but indulge in what it might be like to spend more time with you- to get close to you in a way that wouldn’t result in a punch to the nose. He might risk it if this is all you’re willing to give.

So, when you’re almost out of earshot, he cups his hands around his mouth, letting his words echo on endlessly in your head until you saw each other again,

“Anything for you my jealous little time-bandit!”

🎞️🎞️🎞️

[I'm back my lovelies! Hope you enjoy this second part- I think the next one will most likely take place out and about in Hawkins. Let me know what you think! - Emmy xo.]

Taglist: @aheadfullofsteverogers ; @bakugouswh0r3 (message/comment if you'd like to be added 💞)

#steve harrington prompt #steve harrington stranger things #steve harrington request #steve harrington x you #steve harrington #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington imagines #steve harrington thoughts #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington fic #steve harrington oneshot #steve harrington #steve harrington one shot

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curiositydooropened · 2 years

Note

Heyy amanda i looove your writing, your stories are so well thought-out and interesting. Could you maybe if you like the idea write about steve in s2, nancy is breaking up w him but he can't seem to stop thinking about reader. Hope you like the idea and get some inspiration❤️❤️🫡🥺

Hello, sweets! First of all, this message was sooo lovely! Thank you so much! As I reached the end of this little drabble, I worried I didn’t exactly fulfill your prompt, but I hope you still enjoy it! Thanks again for requesting!!!

Under the Sea

Steve is dreading prom season until he spots you, the one who’s always been there.

Wordcount: 1794

Pairing: Steve Harrington x reader

Warnings: tooth rotting fluff

---

Prom Season, that fortuitous time of year where normally orange and green concrete halls were painted in pastels and streamers. Christmas baubles dangling from the ceiling in strings with PTSD triggering Christmas lights that had Steve wishing his bat were in his backpack and not just the trunk of his car. A large Under the Sea banner denoted dates and locations - tickets could be purchased in the cafeteria during lunch for $5 a piece. Ballots for royalty could be found at the ticket tables.

Royalty. Steve blanched, tightening the strap of his backpack over one shoulder. Funny how the title of King could be swiped from a kid in a few short months. Prom King was all Steve ever wanted, all he ever strived to be. Now, he didn’t even have the title of championship winning point guard. Now, he didn’t even have the title of boyfriend. Now, the only regal title Steve Harrington could answer to was “World’s Best Babysitter”, and although he enjoyed ruffling the hair of those little shits, he wished more people than Mrs. Henderson would give a shit.

Maybe he’d have lunch on the field today, or in the woods. The cafeteria would be crawling with giddy girls and their dates, and the parking lot still stung of Nancy and Tommy and Carol always cat-called from nearby.

The bell rang indicating the start of fourth period, and Steve dipped sideways down a long hallway toward staff offices and the shining sun of midday in Spring.

Sneakers squeaking against linoleum, he grit his teeth past the coos and giggles of Martha Rhinestad and Emily Henberry, both of whom had turned him down for a date last weekend thanks to Dustin’s Pearl-filled grin-and-growl combo. Steve offered a friendly wave in passing, and both girls giggled once more, louder, brushing past him in a waft of bubblegum and hairspray. He turned to watch them walk away, lamenting the curves of their Levi’s and the fall of his reign.

When he turned back to the door outside, he ran smack into a figure who let out a remarkable yelp. Steve jumped, nearly smacking the intruder with his backpack until he saw you with hands held in surrender, hair tossed and a look of surprise etched across your features.

“Oh my God, Steve. Hi. Sorry, I wasn’t paying attention.”

“Oh, hi. No, I’m sorry.” Steve scratched the back of his throat and made room for you to pass.

You. You who taught him how to tie his shoes in kindergarten, you who put a band-aid on his chin in the fourth grade when he cut it on the playground, you who took an attack-kiss with grace at Carol’s 14th birthday party even though it was practically assault.

“Where are you headed?” You smiled, glancing over your shoulder at the windowed door, which somehow felt less beckoning in your presence.

“Lunch,” he explained. “You?”

You tapped the tin box in your hand, which he hadn’t noticed until now. “Also lunch. I’m selling prom tickets.”

“Ah,” he nodded, that familiar ache filling his chest.

“Yeah, we better sell out this year, this Under the Sea theme is way more expensive than A Night to Remember, but student council insisted prom be different than last year’s, which I guess they’re right, but it’d be way less work for the planning committee. As if we aren’t getting ready for college.” You we’re rambling, face ducked into the tin box now clamped to your chest, and Steve felt a smile etch itself on his own face, a weak feeling he was getting to used to having again. “You’re going, right?”

He blinked back at you, the sweet and innocent look in your eye matched with the guilt of him not planning to go. He swallowed, remembered he had a couple bucks in his wallet. He could spare it for a prom ticket he wouldn’t use. “Oh yeah, of course. Thanks for reminding me.” It was worth it to see you smile.

“Walk with me?” You offered, and he spun for a third time to head beside you back down the hallway to the hell of pastel that was the cafeteria.

You and Steve fell into step, sneakers squeaking and change jingling against the tin in your arms, and he risked a glance at your face. You’d really grown up, pretty young thing turned into a young woman overnight. You’d mentioned college, talked like you were all grown up. You felt different from the kid that encouraged him to switch from a trike to a bicycle, and suddenly he realized you’d spent your lives together.

“So, how’ve you been? How’re classes this year?” You asked, catching his stare.

Steve sighed, dug his thumb between his bag strap and his shoulder. “Barely scraping by. Did you know chemistry sucks?”

You laughed, a sound he’d kill to pull from you again, and nodded. “Chemistry does suck. I took it last year.”

“Overachiever,” he mumbled under his breath, and he swelled when you caught the playful tone, elbowing his ribs.

“I was going to offer to help,” you continued. The joke of a past tense was not lost on him.

“Yeah?”

You shrugged. “You know I’m always here for you, Steve.”

There was something in your tone that had his stomach flipping, had him remembering the band-aid and the tiny moment in the dark of Tina’s yard during her Halloween party, after Nancy called him “bullshit” where you asked if he needed to talk. He thought of the moment during Thanksgiving break, where he tossed cranberry sauce into his grocery basket, and you asked about his double black eyes. You’d been the first person to approach him then, the first to talk to him for two whole weeks since he showed back up to school.

Before he had a chance to respond, the cafeteria door swung open to a cacophony of screaming teenagers and tossed paper airplanes. Lines formed with orange trays and slopped, well, slop. The nerds sat with the nerds, and Steve narrowly avoided the polo-wearing table of whispers as you approached the long line growing up to a double card table. Sissy Patterson sat behind it, shooting you a wave of relief upon your approach.

“See you up there,” you smiled and shimmied your way to pass out change and stack the growing wad of bills into your tin box. Your hair was shiny, and your smile bright.

“Steve?” The voice sent chills up his spine, and with a warm face, he turned to sweet, beautiful Nancy Wheeler.

“Hey, Nance,” he sighed, shoulders slumped in defeat. As though he thought he could hide in a room full of potential snipers.

“Hey,” she was awkward behind him, soft corners of her lips pinched in a signature Nancy polite smile. Far different from yours.

“You getting prom tickets?” He asked, though he’d prefer to not know the answer.

“Oh yeah. I mean, I’m serving punch and Jonathan’s taking photos so we don’t really need them, but Mom insisted. You know, for her scrapbook.”

Steve nodded. The famous Wheeler scrapbook, perpetually forgotten for gossipy phone lines and romance novels and Chardonnay. There were a fair few Polaroids of him taken for that scrapbook, including a handful from junior prom the year before.

“What about you? Are you getting prom tickets?” Steve didn’t think she meant it as surprised as it sounded, but it hurt nonetheless.

“Yup.” He popped the ‘p’ and took a step up to the wobbly table.

“Steve,” Sissy popped her bubblegum, shot him a glare. He’d stood her up for a date freshman year. He’d never be forgiven.

“Sissy,” he smiled. He fished into his pocket for cash and found ten dollars. And with Nancy looming behind him and you grinning up at him with those sparkly eyes, he blurted out. “Two tickets please.” More confident than he thought.

He noticed something in you then, the slightest slump of your shoulders, a lick of your lips as your smile softened. You took his cash and placed it neatly into the tin, and Sissy shoved two tickets into his hand.

“Here’s the royalty ballot,” you passed over a clipboard, avoiding his gaze, and his throat tightened in terrified anticipation.

“Oh that’s okay,” he shrugged it off as Nancy stepped up beside him to order her own tickets. When he glanced over, she was glancing between the two of you, eyebrows pinched.

“Steve,” you pressed. “Take the ballot. Trust me.” Your smile was soft, shy, but that sparkle went back into your eyes and sent something through him.

He took the clipboard and pen from your dainty fingers and glanced over the pastel artwork until he saw the neatly printed columns for King, Queen, Princes, and Princesses. Under the King category, he found Steve Harrington. It was the first name on the list. Right where he always wanted it to belong. He glanced over the clipboard where you were watching with an eager gaze, and he couldn’t help but smile, wide.

He checked his name and a few others, and before he even tried to look at Nancy’s votes over her shoulder, he took another step of bravery and said your name, actually yelled it a little. People at a nearby table stopped talking.

“Steve,” you chuckled, flashing a polite smile at those around.

“Do you have a date to prom?”

Again, that beautiful smile of yours faded, dwindled, diminished. You shook your head and avoided his gaze, taking change from the person elbowing past Nancy who seemed to be having an impossible time with her ballot.

“Great,” Steve grinned. “Would you go to prom with me?”

The lid to the tin box slammed closed. Nancy dropped her pen, it rolled between them. “What?”

“I’m asking you to be my prom date. I’ll get a cummerbund to match your dress, and I’ll buy you a corsage, and I’ll take you to dinner beforehand. Do you like Enzo’s?”

“Yes,” you were fighting off that smile now.

“Is that a yes to Enzo or to being my date?”

“Both, I guess.” You laughed, that pretty sound. He’d managed to pull it from you again.

“Perfect. Can we talk about it more after school?”

You shrugged, nodded, but he could tell you were pleased. You, who kissed his chin better, you who maybe enjoyed that kiss at Carol’s birthday, you who hooked your hand into his elbow after his breakup and told him everything was going to be alright.

He winked and turned around before he could catch the look of shock on Nancy’s face because honestly, he couldn’t even focus on Nancy when that smile played on his mind. He floated out of the cafeteria like a jellyfish, soft and light and hopeful.

#steve harrington fic #stranger things #steve harrington #stranger things fic #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington request #fic request #steve harrington x you #steve harrington fanfiction #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington drabble

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headkiss · 1 year

Text

not just on christmas

pairing: steve harrington x fem!reader

summary: steve’s parents are coming home for the holidays and he’s in need of a fake date. who better than you, his best friend?

word count: 8.2k

warnings: steve’s parents (derogatory), negative comments about his job, fake dating, friends to lovers, christmas themes, fluff, first kiss!

a/n: i had lots of fun with this one and i hope u guys like it!!! merry christmas and happy holidays i hope they treat u all well <33 consider this my gift to you :D

༄

The phone ringing forces Steve out of bed. Floors cool on his feet, the air a chill on his bare chest, he rubs his eyes lazily and picks it up.

“Hello?” He clears his throat to get rid of the sleep in his voice.

“Steve, why do you sound tired, it’s nearly noon!”

It’s no surprise that the first words aren’t asking him how he is. He’s shocked she cared enough to pick up on the tone of his voice at all. “Hi, mom.”

He doesn’t even know where she’s calling from, doesn’t know what business trip they're on. He can’t remember the last time he got a phone call that wasn’t you, or Robin, or Dustin, or anyone else other than his parents.

Steve’s not even excited to be hearing from them, because it’s a reminder that they’re not around, that they haven’t forgotten about him, they just don’t care.

He wishes you were the one that called.

“Listen, sweetie, your dad and I are coming home for Christmas this year, isn’t that great?”

He deflates, “yeah. Super.”

“There’s a business event he wants to take you to. And we’ll find you a date,” there’s the catch. There’s always a catch. “You can make some connections, maybe get out of your job at that video store soon.”

The thing is, he actually likes working at Family Video, but he knows that doesn’t matter. Then there’s the topic of the girlfriend, or lack thereof. His parents are always nagging him about when he’ll settle down, grow roots, or something.

Maybe that’s why he says, “I can get my own date. I have a girlfriend.”

“Oh! That’s fantastic! She’ll have dinner with us, won’t she? What’s her name?”

Like an idiot, he says your name. The first one that came to his mind.

You’re his best friend, and it’s easy to let his thoughts drift to you. The problem is, he has no idea how he’s going to explain this to you, how he can ask you to fake date him just to satisfy his parents for once.

If he wasn’t still on the phone, Steve would be groaning into a pillow right now.

“Okay, sweetie, your dad has a brunch we have to get to. We’ll see you soon!”

“Bye, mom. See you.”

He hangs up and sighs in relief. That feeling is quick to fade when he remembers that he had just named you his girlfriend in the midst of his phone call. He drops his face into his hands, runs them through his hair, and tries to figure out how the hell to bring up the subject with you.

To go along with that, he has to worry about his parents coming home. Though, can they really call it ‘home’ when they’ve been gone for so long? When they’ll leave again after a few days, a week at most?

Most people would be happy, excited, about their parents being around for the holidays. Steve’s not. He’d rather spend it how he has since the two of you became friends. Breakfast at your house with your family—who have become family for Steve, too—presents opened with scented candles burning and Christmas albums spun on the record player.

You went out of your way to include him, and he’s never felt so welcome in his life as he does when he’s with you.

At least, if you agree, you’ll be with him this year, too.

It’s the next day when Steve decides to bring it up. You’re at his house for movie night, which has become a weekly ritual for the two of you. He’s been trying to figure out what exactly to say since he hung up the damn phone. He’s given up and instead hopes it’ll come to him in the moment.

Today, Steve’s quiet, which is unlike him. You know something’s on his mind and you try to avoid asking him about it, trying to let him talk about it on his own time. It’s about halfway through the movie that you change your mind.

He didn’t complain when you showed up with your cheesy Christmas movie choice, he didn’t light-heartedly tease you about your outfit of choice (some festive patterned pajama pants and a sweater that’s so worn there are holes in the neckline), and the most unusual, he didn’t make a single joke or comment as the movie played.

He’s really, really quiet.

You pick up the remote and pause it, “what’s going on with you, Steve?”

He looks at you, catches your eye and sees nothing but genuine concern. Sometimes he hates the way you know him so well. He can never hide anything from you.

“What? Nothing.”

You blink at him, “come on.”

“Fine, okay. Just, don’t say anything until I’m done, please.”

“Okay,” you pretend to zip your mouth shut, ready to listen.

“My mom called yesterday and told me they’re coming home for Christmas, and that there’s this business thing they want me to go to, and that I need a date for it,” he scrubs a hand down his face, trying to hide his embarrassment. “And you know how they’re always on my ass about me being single and stuff so I kind of told her I already had a girlfriend, and maybe I told her that girlfriend is you.”

What?

There’s a lot to process there. Mostly the fact that out of all of the names he could have chosen, he said yours. You wait for him to explain some more, but he’s looking at you like he’s waiting for a reply, so, your mouth is now unzipped.

“So, what exactly does that mean?”

He mutters a curse under his breath. “Um, so, I need you to pretend to be my actual girlfriend while they’re here.”

His use of the word ‘need’ is telling. Steve’s not one to ask for help, not even when he needs it the most but here he is, nervous and a little pink-cheeked, asking for your help.

You let the thought sit in your head for a bit. It’s not hard for you to want to agree. Steve’s your best friend, and you’d do pretty much anything for him. Though, that might also have to do with the fact that you’ve been in love with him for years.

You know more about his relationship with his parents then most do, so if you can make their visit more bearable for him in any way, why wouldn’t you?

“Okay,” you say.

“Okay? Like, you’ll do it?”

“Yeah, sure. I’m happy to help.”

That was a lot easier than Steve thought it’d be. You barely even questioned him before agreeing, and that’s not lost on him.

“Thank you so much, seriously,” he throws his arm over your shoulders, squeezes you to him in a side hug. “It’s only a few days, then we can go back to normal.”

“Easy peasy,” you say, reaching for the remote and hitting play.

Aside from your wanting to help him, to be there for him like you know he would for you, you’re also curious to see what it’s like to be with Steve that way, even if it’s fake. It’s hopeless, the way you love him, like the moon orbiting the earth around and around. Constant.

Sure, those feelings will probably only swell because of the fake relationship, but you’ve been housing them for long enough anyway.

What could go wrong?

“Are you sure this is a good idea?” Robin says from the other side of a clothing rack, sifting through the pieces.

She’s the first, and only, person you told about the fake dating thing. Naturally, she decided she’d help you shop for a dress to wear to this business thing and talk about it at the same time.

The mall is decorated, garlands and lights strung, a big Christmas tree lit up in the middle of it all.

“It’s only a couple of days. It’ll be fine.”

“I’m talking about you being in love with him,” she deadpans.

“Robin, not so loud.”

“I just don’t want you to get hurt.”

You know she’s being honest, and though the thought has been at the back of your mind, a whisper, you’d like to believe that you can handle a fake relationship without ruining things because of your big, big feelings.

“I spend time with him alone a bunch. It’s not that much different, okay?”

“Besides the fact that you’ll be calling him boyfriend and acting like it, too, you mean.”

Actually, you’ve been trying not to think about what exactly pretending to be his girlfriend entails. You don’t know if he’ll hold your hand, if he’ll hold you closer than he has before, if he’ll kiss you. You think it might be better to wait and see, to not let the possibilities eat at you.

“I know it sounds bad, but it’s Steve. Nothing major will happen. We’re friends and I’m helping him out.”

Robin’s in a tricky spot. She knows how you feel about Steve, obviously, and though he doesn’t see it yet himself, she knows that Steve feels the same, too. It’s taken a lot to hold herself back from speeding things along, and as much as she wishes this fake relationship plan might be a good push, things usually aren’t so easy.

She can also tell that there’s a lot you’re thinking but not saying, but instead of pushing it, she returns to looking at the dresses. It’s not long before she gasps, pulling one of the rack to show you.

“This one,” she says.

“I don’t know. That won’t look good on me.”

It’s pretty, though. You’ll give her that.

“Shut up, everything looks good on you. Will you at least try it on?” She wiggles the hanger in her hand, “for me?”

“Fine.”

You take it from her, walking back towards the fitting rooms with a grinning Robin in tow. She waits outside the door while you change into the dress.

Once it’s on, looking in the mirror, you don’t even know what to think. You’re not one to feel all that confident in what you wear, or in how you look, but this dress makes you feel pretty. Maybe you should make Robin pick out all of your clothes.

“Let me see!” Robin calls.

You step out of the changeroom, doing a shy little spin when she asks. She’s smiling proudly, like she knows she chose well (which she did). She can’t help but think of how Steve will react, because she knows he feels something for you, she can see it on his face everytime he talks about you. He’s just a dork and he doesn’t realize it. Not yet, at least.

“What do you think?” You ask.

“If Steve’s not already in love with you…”

“Don’t finish that sentence.”

If she does, your brain will conjure up way too many ideas of what could possibly happen. If Steve could really feel the same. If maybe he’ll feel those same butterflies in his stomach that you do, if his heart feels bigger when you’re around. In your dreams, he does.

“I’m trying to tell you you look hot!”

December twenty-third is the day that Steve’s parents come home as well as the night of the business event. You and Steve have tried to figure out how to act like a couple, quizzing each other on things you already know, setting loose boundaries, but you figure after knowing each other for so long, being so close, it won’t feel much different than now. Besides the extra touching, the possibility of kissing.

You’re already at his house when his parents get home, your makeup and outfit for tonight sitting in Steve’s room. The two of you linger near the front door waiting for their arrival, a nervous and jittery welcoming committee.

The sound of a car pulling into the driveway grabs your attention. It’s a clapperboard snapping shut, marking the scene. Action.

“You ready, babe?” He holds out his arm for you to grab, and you do.

“Time to be the best couple ever,” you reply.

Steve grins at you. He has no idea how to thank you for agreeing to do this, how to even explain to you the relief you’re sure to bring. It’s one less thing for his parents to pick and pry at.

The door opens, and you can already feel a change in Steve’s demeanor. He’s standing straighter, stiffer. You squeeze his arm, a reminder that you’re there.

“Steve, sweetie!” His mother barely greets him before moving onto you, “and this is your girlfriend?”

“Hi, Mrs. Harrington.”

If it were someone else’s mother, you’d be hit with the usual ‘oh please, call me (insert name here).’ However, where the Harringtons are concerned, formality is a must. Besides Steve, of course. From what you know, the apple had fallen very, very far from the tree and you mean that as a compliment.

Even after being friends for so many years, this is the first time you’re actually meeting Steve’s parents. It’s clear that he’s never jumped at the opportunity to have his friends around when they’re home. He’s told you about them, and that’s enough for you.

“Steve! Come help me with the bags, would you?” His dad calls from outside, though he says it as a demand rather than a question.

“Yep, coming,” he replies. He kisses the side of your head before going outside, quick and sure, like he’s done it hundreds of times.

“How was your trip, Mrs. Harrington?” You fill the silence.

“Oh, just lovely, thank you,” she moves to the kitchen, expecting you to follow. “The house looks clean. Do you have something to do with that?”

Despite her trying to sound like she’s joking, you know that she truly doesn’t believe that Steve could be the one keeping the place going. As if he hasn’t been doing just that for ages.

“No, no. It’s really Steve.”

Her eyebrows raise, surprised.

Steve and his father walk in before anything else is said—thank God. You shake hands with Mr. Harrington, saying hello and wearing a tight smile. Steve’s quick to come to your side, an arm over your shoulders like a shield. Your hand moves to hold the one resting on your shoulder.

He’s even more tense when his father’s in the room, you’ve noticed. You hold his hand a bit tighter. You wish you could do something to make him feel better, and you hope that this fake relationship will do that at least a little bit.

Meanwhile Steve’s wondering how your presence could make him feel much better than he usually does with his parents around. You’re a comfort beside him, and when he gets the chance, he kisses your head again, whispering a ‘thank you’ into your hair.

The first few hours with Steve’s parents go by dreadfully slow, even with his touch on you most of the time. You’re quickly learning that as a boyfriend—even fake—Steve’s love language is easily physical touch. He has an arm around you, a hand in yours, on your leg, anything.

You’re also learning just how strained his relationship with his parents is. He’d trusted you enough to tell you most of it, but seeing them interact in front of you was different. The backhanded comments, the faces whenever he mentions his job, it makes your heart ache for him.

It’s bad enough that his parents are hardly ever around, but having them act like this when they are? You’re amazed at how good Steve has remained through it all.

When it’s time to get ready for the business party, you’re thankful for the reprieve.

“Think we’re doing a good job?” You ask Steve as he shuts the door to his room.

“They seem to be buying it. Thanks again for doing this.”

“You’ve thanked me like a hundred times, Steve. It’s okay, really.”

You want to tell him that you’re sorry these are the people he has to call family. That he shouldn’t listen to any of the shit they give him about his job or his lack of post-secondary education. That he’s the best boy you’ve ever known.

The problem is, you don’t know how to say all of that without making your feelings for him painfully obvious.

“Just gotta keep it up ‘til Christmas. That’s when they leave.”

“They’re only here for two days?” You knew the trip was going to be short, but forty-eight hours?

“Yeah, something about getting a deal on a cruise. I don’t know.”

He says it so casually, like it’s normal. You guess that for him, it is, but it doesn’t make it any less upsetting.

“Does that mean you’ll come to mine for Christmas day? Like usual?” You ask, hopefully lightening the mood.

“If you’ll have me.”

“Shut up, you’re always welcome. Think my mom likes you more than me anyway,” you nudge his shoulder with yours, then move to bring your stuff into his bathroom to start getting ready.

He leans on the doorframe, watching you set your makeup out on the counter, “she does not.”

“Steve, you have your own stocking hanging on our fireplace. And it’s bigger than mine.”

He smiles genuinely then, the first one since his parents have arrived.

He leaves you to get ready, shutting the bathroom door for when you change. You can still hear him through the door. The opening and closing of his drawers, a curse when he stubs his toe.

So far, pretending to be with Steve has been easy. You’ve acted the same save for the touches or small pecks he’s decided to keep placing on your head or your cheeks. The story you settled on was simple: you met him picking up a movie at Family Video, he asked if you needed company to watch it, the rest is history, blah blah blah.

Steve knocks on the bathroom door when you’re pretty much ready, you glance at yourself one more time in the mirror before opening it.

He stands with his tie in hand, wearing a button up and dress pants. You assume there’s a suit jacket to go along with it, and you think it might kill you. He’s so pretty, and he looks it all of the time but seeing him dressed up is really something.

“You look good, Steve,” you say. Good doesn’t even begin to cover it.

“Thanks. You look- you too.”

Steve’s stunned. He realizes he’s never seen you in anything formal and it’s making him feel all fluttery in his stomach and he doesn’t know what to think of it. He’s always known you’re gorgeous, in an obvious way like how the sky is blue. Now, though, it’s like he can feel it.

He clears his throat quietly and remembers the reason he knocked in the first place, “you don’t happen to know how to tie a tie, do you?”

You’re thankful for the time you decided to learn how when you were bored one day. You take the fabric from his hands, “it’s your lucky day, Steve.”

“Thank you. Didn’t wanna have to go ask my dad.”

He’s almost shy about wanting your help over something so small, his cheeks a little pink, his head bent. You give him a reassuring smile—or what you hope is one—and place the tie around his neck.

His eyes are on you as your hands fiddle with the fabric, doing it up for him. Your eyebrows are slightly scrunched, and he wants to reach out and smooth it out with his thumb. He’s not used to having that urge.

You finish up successfully after having fumbled a little bit, adjusting the tie so it isn’t crooked.

“There you go,” you pat his chest and he hopes you can’t feel his heartbeat, the way it’s quicker than normal.

He has no idea what that’s about.

“Thanks.”

“‘Course.”

He’s still standing close to you, enough that he has to keep his head tilted downwards just a little to be able to look at your face. Your eyes lock onto his, and time seems to slow. You’re so gone for him and you know it, but it almost seems like maybe he’s feeling something too. Just for a moment.

His father calling out that it’s time to go snaps you out of it.

Steve grabs his jacket, shrugging it on then offering you his hand to hold, “let’s do this, girlfriend.”

The hall is oozing Christmas when you walk in, Steve’s hand in yours. Ornaments hang down from the ceiling, warm white string lights line the top of the walls, Christmas music hums through the speakers, and an extravagant Christmas tree sits in the middle of the room.

You’ve never been to an event like it, and you have a hard time keeping your nerves at bay.

Pretending in front of Steve’s parents alone was one thing. Now, the stakes are higher. You have to be convincing and though it’s not difficult for you to pretend to be in love with Steve (you don’t have to fake that at all), you worry that you’ll slip up somehow and give yourself away. Both in the sense that the relationship is fake, and that your feelings are anything but.

It’s not long before Steve’s father gets pulled into a conversation, and his mother goes along with him. You’re left standing near the doorway with Steve, biting at the inside of your cheek.

“Relax,” he leans his head close to yours and whispers.

“Sorry. I’m just nervous.”

“We’re fine. You’re fine,” he squeezes your hand, something that’s quickly become a wordless reassurance between you. “We’ve done good so far, right?”

“I guess so.”

“Okay, so there’s nothing to worry about.”

Except for the fact that I love you and that you being a really good fake boyfriend isn’t helping.

“Okay.”

He smiles and leads you further into the room. The smile he gives you is different from the one he gives the people that say hi to him, the people that stop him for a chat. For you, it’s honest. For them, it doesn’t reach his eyes, it doesn’t mean anything.

“About time you tied someone down, Steve,” a man says to him. A coworker of his father’s, just like most men in the room.

“Think she’s the one who got me, but yeah.”

“That’s sweet. Next step is to get you a stable job, huh?”

It seems like all anyone here is concerned about is what people do, who they know. It’s no fun for you and they aren’t even speaking to you directly most of the time.

“Sure. Good to see you,” Steve excuses the both of you from the conversation.

“These people suck,” you say to him, leading him to the bar set up in a corner.

“Tell me about it.”

You order water for the both of you, something to get rid of the dryness in your throat and occupy you for a bit. You drink quietly before Steve speaks up.

“You look beautiful, by the way.”

He doesn’t know why it slips out now, but it does. The thought has been on his mind since he saw you standing there in his bathroom, and it’s getting harder and harder to ignore.

“You don’t have to say that, Steve. Nobody’s listening.”

“I mean it, seriously.”

“Oh,” you look down at your glass, at the condensation running down the side. The corners of your mouth lift, “thank you.”

“I know this isn’t the most fun, but I’m glad you’re here with me,” he admits. He’s always been sweet to you, but this feels different. You don’t know how or why, but it does.

“I am too.”

Steve’s dad interrupts your moment, pulling Steve off to meet some people. Already, there’s a guard being put up by him, a shield he saves for his father.

For those few minutes, where it was just you and Steve, you realized that he’s probably the best date you’ve ever had. He pays attention to you, he’s comforting without even trying, and he compliments you with so much honesty you could melt.

He’s the best date you’ve ever had and it’s fake. It’s becoming a mantra repeated in your head; it’s not real, it’s not real.

Lost in thought, you don’t notice the boy who’s sat next to you now.

“I’ve never seen you before,” he says.

“I’m not usually at these things. I came with my boyfriend,” you tell him, unsettled by his stare.

“And where is this boyfriend now?”

“He’s out there. I just needed some water but he’ll come back soon.”

You’re trying to get him to go away, to take the hint. He won’t.

“Why don’t I keep you company in the meantime?”

You’re about to reply when someone else does it for you, “not necessary. She’s my girl.”

My girl. Steve. He stands behind you, wraps his arms around your waist. It’s like he knew you needed him then, showing up as soon as you felt like you wanted to search for him. He runs his hands over your sides, a possessive touch that has your skin tingling.

“My bad, man. Thought she was lying about the boyfriend,” the guy says.

“She wasn’t. Even if she was, maybe you should learn to tell when someone isn’t interested, yeah?”

The stranger nods and walks off.

You spin in Steve’s hold, facing him. “My hero.”

“You know me,” he shrugs.

What he doesn’t say is that seeing another guy talk to you made his gut churn, bringing something that he didn’t want to admit was jealousy. He also saw the look on your face, the discomfort, and felt his feet carry him over before his mind could think it first.

His hands are still on your waist, even with the stranger gone.

It’s not until Steve’s parents are ready that you leave. They’ve taken advantage of the champagne that sat on trays, free for the taking, as well as the opportunity to talk up their son to many, many people. It seems they’re only proud of him when there’s other people around, and even then, the praise doesn’t hold much weight.

He’s trying his best. At least he’s working. He’s got a girlfriend now. No, he doesn’t host backyard parties while we’re gone anymore.

You wish you could speak up, but you know, with this many people around, it’d cause more harm than good. It’s hard to listen to the people that raised Steve talk about him the way they do. You want so badly to shout in their faces how brilliant he is, no thanks to them. How he has the kindest soul and a sort of midas touch that makes everything shine.

At least, you think he does. You promise yourself to love him better than they ever did, even if it’s in secret.

One memory from the night overpowers the rest, luckily. ‘Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas’ played, a slower rendition, and a slow dance ensued. You watched couples split off, and when you looked at Steve, he was already looking at you, a question on his face and a hand outstretched.

You fell into step with him quickly. It wasn’t awkward for a second. One of your hands in his, the other on his shoulder, his on your waist. You swayed together, unknowingly moving closer until you were close enough to rest your head on his chest. And you did.

He rested his head atop of yours and hummed the song softly. You’ll dream about that dance, probably.

Now, you sit in the car with Steve, who’s become the driver. He drops his parents off at his house first, leaving the two of you alone for the drive to yours. He sneaks glances at you at stop signs and red lights, turning back to the road when he thinks he’s been caught.

His mind is full because he’s looking at you in a way he hasn’t before. He sees parts of you that he was blind to before. The shape of your lips, for example. The dip of your spine and the way it feels to hold you. It’s dizzying and warm, confusing and sparkling all at once.

Once he’s pulled up to your house, he offers to walk you to the door. Ever the gentleman. A romantic no matter how much he denies it, you think. He gets misty-eyed when you watch rom-coms, opens doors for you, has bought flowers for nearly all of his dates, as far as you know.

What must it be like to receive flowers from Steve Harrington?

He faces you on your front porch, hands in his pockets, “thank you again for doing this.”

“How many times do I have to tell you it’s okay. I’m happy to help you, Steve. You’re my best friend.” Who I love more than anyone.

“You’re mine, too, honey.”

It’s not the first time he’s called you that. Turns out, it was his default to use in your fake relationship. It is, however, the first time he’s said it when it’s just the two of you. It sounds sweet coming from his lips, sticky. Just like honey itself.

“What time should I be over for dinner tomorrow?” You ask. It’s the last hurdle of the fake dating.

“How ‘bout I come pick you up after I finish work?”

“Yeah, okay, that’d be great, thanks.”

You wrap your arms around yourself, the cold of December biting your skin.

“Here,” Steve notices, of course he does, and he reaches out with his hands, rubbing them up and down your arms to warm you.

“How’re your hands still warm?” You ask.

“I'm magic.”

You smile at that. He has no idea.

He reaches up with one hand to cup your cool cheek, and you nudge your face into his touch. For the warmth, you tell yourself. That’s it. His thumb runs over your skin, once, twice.

“Did I ever tell you that you have a pretty smile?” He says it so quietly you almost miss it. You don’t, though, and there’s a swarm of butterflies in your gut because of it.

“Shut up,” you try to mask your bashfulness.

Then, just like that, his face is close to yours. So close that it looks like he might kiss you. His eyes flick from your mouth up to yours, like he’s unsure of what’s happening while he’s doing it.

You can feel his breath tickling your lips, the ghost of his mouth on yours. Before that can happen, he’s swerving away quickly, planting a kiss on your cheek instead. The one he isn’t holding. His mouth lingers for a second.

“Goodnight,” he whispers against your skin.

“Night,” you say, dazed. And he’s walking away.

Steve’s not at all sure what’s come over him. He wanted to kiss you just then, to tangle his fingers in your hair and kiss you stupid. What the fuck was happening to him?

When you let your eyes flutter shut, your mouth parted slightly, like you’d let him kiss you, like you wanted it, too, he panicked. Couldn't do it.

No, he doesn’t know what just happened, why it did, or why he’s resisting the urge to go back and knock on your door and actually kiss you when you open it. What he does know is that his heart seems to be doing something funny when you’re around, and that your fake relationship has been better than any of his real ones.

He knows he needs to talk to Robin about this.

Steve had to work the next morning—Christmas Eve—which he was actually thankful for. Thankful to get away from his parents, though the comments about his job followed him out the door this morning. Especially thankful because he needs to talk to Robin and sort out the mess of his feelings that has occurred in the last twenty four hours.

He couldn’t stop thinking about how much he wanted to kiss you. About how his stomach was all twisty when you slow danced with him. There are so many moments playing over in his memory. Not just from yesterday, either.

He remembers the way his stomach would sink when you’d tell him about a date you had or how he’d often reach out a hand to tuck your hair behind your ear, or to wipe something away from the corner of your mouth.

So many things over your friendship that he never thought about are coming back to him and he’s realized he doesn’t act that way with any of his other friends. Only you.

He also realizes that he hasn’t really been pretending with you at all.

“I think I love her,” Steve blurts out while he and Robin are organizing returns, the store luckily empty.

Robin reaches into her pocket, barely fazed, and tosses a handful of confetti at Steve. Some pieces stick to his hair, some to his clothes, most of it at his feet.

“What the hell?” He shakes the flecks out of his hair, “we have to clean that now.”

“I’ve been carrying around confetti for like a year waiting for this to happen!”

“Wait, what?”

“Steve, you’ve been loving her for a long time, hate to break it to you.”

“And you didn’t tell me?” He’s no longer preoccupied with the confetti.

“I was letting you do it on your own time. You’re welcome.”

Steve had only just deduced that he’s in love with you and yet, when he thinks about you, he feels the same way he has for years. He finds it hard to believe that he’s been blind to it for that long, but he has been called an idiot enough in his lifetime for it to make sense.

Then, there’s the fact that you’re not done fake dating yet, that there’s still dinner today to get through and he doesn’t know if he’ll be able to keep himself together.

“What am I gonna do, Robin?”

“You’re gonna tell her how you feel and I will finally know peace.”

“What if she doesn’t feel the same? What if I freak her out?”

“Steve, she looks at you like sun shines from your pores,” she places a hand on his shoulder. “You’ll be fine.”

He picks you up after work as promised, his hands holding the wheel a little tighter, his greeting a little louder than normal. You figure he’s just nervous about dinner.

Nobody brings up the almost kiss, and you don’t plan to. Maybe you read things wrong. Maybe he was aiming for your cheek all along. Maybe he’s been thinking about it as much as you have.

It seems that your feelings for Steve are present now more than ever. Impossible to ignore. It might have something to do with the Christmas spirit floating around, the lightness of the holidays. It definitely has something to do with you being Steve’s fake girlfriend.

Because it turns out, he’s an excellent boyfriend, real or not.

He opens doors for you, even if he has to jog ahead of you to do it. He’s always got at least one hand on you, warm and sure. He looks at you with so much care, his brown eyes stuck on you.

It’s all adding up and you feel like your love for him is overflowing, pouring out of you before you can reel it in. You just hope he doesn’t notice that you’re not acting, that you never were.

Walking into Steve’s kitchen, you pause in the doorway, him behind you, “this smells great, Mrs. Harrington.”

Though Steve knows she probably bought most of the stuff and then put it in pots and pans to make it look like she cooked, he agrees, “so great, mom.”

She turns to look at you both from her spot by the stove, “thank you. Oh!” She cuts herself off with a gasp, her gaze drifting above your heads.

Oh no.

“Mistletoe,” she says, pointing.

“Look at that,” you laugh, short and awkward.

“Steve, sweetie, kiss your girlfriend for tradition's sake, won’t you.”

He kisses you on the cheek.

“A real one, son,” his father pipes up from his seat at the table.

Steve finds your gaze, his eyes wide and questioning. Are you okay with this? He’s asking without saying it. You nod, barely there, but you nod and he sees it.

He cups your cheek in his hand, flashes of last night on your porch come to you. He leans in slowly, like he’s waiting for you to stop him. Instead of doing that, you hold his wrist in your hand, squeeze it. Your silent communication.

In a blink, his lips are on yours. Pillowy and almost shy, but he’s kissing you and you feel like you’re floating, your feet off the ground and everything. He pulls away before you can even register the fact that it happened.

Your heartbeat is loud in your ears, your lips still burning with the memory of his.

Steve can't believe he hasn’t kissed you before. You’re soft and you fit together so well, like the final piece of a jigsaw puzzle clicking into place. He’s kicking himself for not doing it last night, when you were alone, when it was real. Next time he kisses you, he thinks, it will be real.

He clears his throat, tearing his eyes away from you, “so, let’s eat.”

Just like that, he’s moving to the table, pulling out a chair for you and kissing the top of your head once you’ve sat down. Already, the extra affection he’s been giving you has been dizzying. Now, it’s dialed way up.

He helps his mom serve the food before he sits down, though all he gets as a thank you is a pat on the cheek. Next to you, you can see Steve’s leg bouncing up and down. You reach out and place a hand above his knee, stilling him and drawing his gaze to yours.

You smile, and you hope it’s enough to say it’s okay, it’s all gonna be fine. He rests his hand on top of yours, fingers laced together.

“So, Steve, have you been looking for jobs?” His father speaks up. The never-ending topic.

“No, dad. I have a job,” Steve doesn’t look up from his plate, pushing mashed potatoes around with his fork.

“Well, a real job, I mean.”

At Steve’s silence, his mom adds, “we just think, especially now that you have a girlfriend to support, you should look for something… better.”

You look up when she says it, eyes wide and hand tensing on Steve’s leg. You don’t understand how they care so much about what he does and so little about how he feels. He likes his job, you know that, and he’s tried to tell them multiple times over the past couple of days.

And still.

It’s impossible for you to sit by and listen to them talk to him the way they do, like he isn’t good enough. Like the only defining thing is his job, which isn’t even a bad one. What defines him is who he is as a person and he’s the best one in your life.

“Why does it matter so much?” You ask.

His parents look at you, surprised to be questioned, it seems. Steve looks at you, too, with something more like astonishment, appreciation.

“I’m sorry,” you continue, “it’s just, you haven’t seen your son in how long? And all you guys keep bringing up is his job, which he’s told you he actually enjoys. Shouldn’t that be enough for you?”

Steve’s world is tinting pink, heart-shaped lenses over his eyes hearing you defend him. Nobody’s ever tried to go against his parents for him, and here you are. Fuck, he loves you.

They’re quiet, and you’re not finished. “Steve is the greatest person I’ve ever met, and that’s no thanks to you. I’ve known him for a long time and not once have I seen you guys around. How can you judge him so much when you don’t even take the time to know him anymore?”

The room is dead quiet. Nothing but the clinking of forks against plates for the rest of the meal. You feel lighter, after saying what you did. Though you’re also terrified that you’ve overstepped, that Steve will be upset with you for causing a scene.

As if sensing your worry, he holds your hand just a bit tighter.

It’s not until after dinner, hidden away in his room, that you talk about what happened. Not the kiss; your outburst.

He shuts his door and you’re already apologizing, “listen, Steve. I'm so sorry if I made things worse, but I couldn’t just let them shit on your job anymore. I couldn’t. You’re my best friend, you know that, and-”

His arms are around you in a blink.

“Thank you,” he breathes into your hair. “Nobody’s ever done anything like that for me. Thank you, honey.”

“Oh,” you blink away your surprise and wrap your arms around his shoulders. “Anytime.”

“You’re really special.”

Your smile spreads, spilling before you can do anything about it. You hide your face in his neck and stay that way until he lets go, a flush in his cheeks and stars in his eyes.

Steve wanted to tell you he loves you right then, but the words seem stuck in his throat. They won’t come up. He wants to be with you for real, and though it happened in a rush, it also didn’t. His brain just needed to catch up to his heart.

He doesn’t say it, but he will. As soon as he can.

“Wanna go watch a movie?” You ask.

“Yeah, okay.”

Movie night. You and him. That’s real.

Steve’s parents seem to have gone out somewhere, the car missing from the driveway. They haven’t left, though. You and Steve checked for the suitcases (they’re sitting, already packed, in their room).

Playing the movie, yet another Christmas pick that Steve couldn’t say no to, you share a blanket. There’s plenty of room on the couch, you’re the only people there, and yet, Steve still tosses an arm over your shoulders and pulls you to lean against his side.

Maybe he’s just doing it in case his parents come home while you’re downstairs. That’s gotta be it.

“Is it bad that I’m sort of relieved they aren’t here right now?” Steve says to you, quiet.

“Not at all. You deserve better than what they give you, Steve.”

“You think so?”

“Are you kidding? I know so.”

He lets his head lean atop of yours, and that’s that.

You want to bring up the kiss, but then again, why would you? It’s not real. It’s not real no matter how much you wish it was, no matter how much it feels that way. You knew going into this that you might end up kissing Steve, you just didn’t know it’d fuck you up so much.

Part of you hopes that mistletoe will appear above your heads yet again, just to be able to feel the way you did when he kissed you. Heart fluttering, stomach twisting, warm all over.

Though Steve’s head feels relaxed, resting on yours, it’s overflowing with thoughts. You, his parents, the way you defended him, how it felt to kiss you, how much he wants to do it again. You. The entire length of the movie, he’s trying to think of a way to tell you he loves you. The best he comes up with is to wing it.

When the screen fades, and the film ends, you remember the gift you’d left in Steve’s room, buried at the bottom of your overnight bag (you decided to sleep over, something you’ve done too many times to count, and head to your place in the morning with Steve). You sit up, only to face him.

“I have something for you. C’mon,” you tug on his hand, leading him all the way to his own bedroom.

“What?”

“Just,” you make him sit down on his bed when you’re in the room, digging through your bag and finding the present you’d wrapped last night. “Here.”

He takes it from your hand slowly, like it’s the most precious thing in the world. He doesn’t open it right away, staring at the red and green patterned wrapping paper and the gold stick-on bow sitting in the middle of it.

“Open it,” you urge, shuffling nervously on your feet.

He shoots you a shy smile before tearing at the paper, revealing a scrapbook of sorts. Flipping through the pages, he finds memories upon memories. Pictures of you and him, of him and Robin, all three of you. Some with the kids or with Eddie. Most of them he doesn’t even remember taking.

And it’s more than just pictures. There’s movie tickets and receipts from random fast food dinners, confetti from a surprise party for Dustin and a piece of a plate Steve broke once.

It’s the most thoughtful thing anyone’s ever given him. It reminds him that he does have a family, no blood relation needed.

“Honey,” he says it quietly, his eyes watering ever so slightly. “This is- I don’t even know what to say.”

“I know it’s not much, but I thought you’d like it.”

“No. I love it. It’s perfect, seriously,” he runs his finger over a picture of the two of you, your faces squished together and your smiles absolutely ridiculous. “Best gift ever.”

He means it.

“I had some help with the pictures. Everyone in that book loves you, Steve.”

Everyone in that book. That means you love him, too. He knows that you could mean it platonically, but something about the way you look at him when you say it makes him think that he has to tell you. He has to try.

He’s suddenly very glad he bought you a locket for Christmas, and that he left it unwrapped because of his lack of skills in that department.

“Close your eyes,” he says.

“Steve-”

“Please,” he trades spots with you, sitting you on the edge of his bed, “close your eyes for a minute, ‘kay?”

“Okay,” you shut them tight, placing a hand over them as well, “double closed.”

He rushes to grab the locket from the bottom of one of his drawers, then grabs the tiniest bit of paper and manages to write as small as he can on it, placing the message in the necklace and closing it with a small click.

Steve reaches for the hand that isn’t covering your eyes, opening it up and placing the delicate piece of jewelry in it. “Okay, open.”

You do, glancing down to what rests in your palm. It’s gorgeous, dainty, and the corners of your mouth lift at the sight of it.

“It’s beautiful, Steve. You didn’t have to.”

“It’s a locket,” he says. His head is bent, shy and visibly nervous. “Open it, too.”

Your heartbeat picks up, like you know, subconsciously, that something big is hiding inside despite the small size of the necklace itself. You wedge your fingernail into the gap, pushing the locket open. The note inside makes your stomach drop.

In his messy, rushed writing, the words ‘I love you.’

You look at him, mouth agape and hopes way up. “Steve?”

“I mean it.”

“How-”

“I mean I’m in love with you, and I think I have been for a really, really long time. I guess it took you being my fake girlfriend for me to realize it.”

“You’re not pranking me, are you?”

You’ve spent so long loving him, and convincing yourself that he could never love you the same, that it feels unreal. Hazy, like a dream.

He sits beside you, cupping your face in his hands softly to make you look at him, “I’m not pranking you. I love you.”

“Holy shit. I love you, too. For so long. I never thought I had a chance with you.”

“I think you’re the only person who’s had a real chance with me since I met you, honey.”

Right there, discarded wrapping paper on the floor, the glow of Christmas lights shining through the window, you doubt you’ll ever take that locket off once it’s on.

You can’t stop yourself from rushing forward and kissing him. A small press of your mouth against his at first, then, it’s more. It’s slow and every single thing you’ve ever wanted. His lips move with yours like they’re the only ones that know you.

This time, when you kiss, there’s no question. It’s real and it’s thawing every single worry you ever had about this. This is real, you get to think now.

Steve pulls away only when your breathing gets heavier, only when he absolutely has to. His thumb trails over your cheek, a lover’s touch. He takes the necklace from your hand, puts it on for you and kisses you again when he’s done.

“Do you think this was a Christmas miracle?” You say, teasing.

“I think this was just me being too stupid to notice how I feel about you. I know now, though.”

“Because you needed a fake girlfriend.”

“Because I needed a fake girlfriend,” he confirms. “But, I’d like a real one now.”

“I think I can manage that,” you nod, a lovesick smile on your face.

For once, Steve’s glad his parents came home. He never would have asked you to fake date him if they hadn’t, and he wouldn’t have realized his very real feelings for you, either. So, maybe it is a Christmas miracle, after all.

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elcondorpasas · 2 years

Note

Can you use romantic prompt 28. “I’m very lucky that you put up with me.” For Steve Harrington where the reader is Dustin’s older sister and like her brother, she has known it all moments but Steve finds hers endearing and cute?

Wonderful Tonight | henderson!reader x steve harrington

Romantic, 28. "I'm very lucky that you put up with me."

summary you, being a henderson, were typically right. you just needed your boyfriend, steve, to admit it.

warnings no real warnings, maybe a touch of insecurity? some fluff at the end <3, not proof read though

a/n I haven't been much on a steve kick lately, so it was hard to find inspiration to write this. sorry if it's really short :( I hope this is okay and is what you were looking for!

cross listed on ao3 - HERE

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“I’m telling you, I’m right. You’re wrong.”

Steve couldn’t believe his ears. It’d been 20 minutes and you were still at it, trying endlessly to prove your point.

“Baby,” Steve huffed, his patience wearing thin this time, “I promise you. I may be an idiot, but I think I remember the day we met.” Normally, Steve kind of got off to you being a know it all. He thought it was insanely cute how worked up you’d get yourself just trying to prove him wrong. However, after the first ten minutes, he was finding this conversation turned argument to be a little draining.

Now, you could believe your ears. Of course, Steve was wrong. He often was. You were certain you know this for a fact. To be honest, it was kind of irritating you that Steven had forgotten. It made you feel a little shitty and like you weren’t as important as you thought you were to him. You knew in your head that that wasn’t the case at all, but sometimes your overactive imagination and constant need to be right got the better of you.

“Steven,” you deadpanned, “you’re totally incorrect.”

A shuffle from the back of the Family Video store alerted you both to another person’s presence. Your mutual friend, Robin, was sleepily trudging through the office door after having slept through the duration of her half hour break. It’d been two months since you all had been to hell and back. Taking out Vecna had been no small feat. It took its toll, mentally and physically, on you and your group of friends. Things had started to finally feel normal once again, or as normal as they can be in Hawkins, Indiana. However, sleep was still something you all had struggled with. The nightmares, cold sweats, not-there-shadows in the corners of your rooms. It helped to have someone with you, for which you were extremely grateful to Steven for. Whenever one of you would relive an awful memory or your darkest fears of losing one another would plague your dreams, you had each other to cling to – to ground yourselves. Other members of the group, the single ones, the kids, they found sleep when they could. Luckily, it was now summer and most of the group could never had to justify their frequent naps or mid-day sleeps. It was always easier to sleep while it was daylight.

“Robin, you gotta back me up here,” Steve pleaded as the young girl came around the corner of the register and rubbed the sleep from her eyes. “I don’t know what you two are arguing about this time, but I’m on her side,” Robin yawned while pointing towards you. A small, triumphant smile overcame your face.

“See,” you laughed, “I told you!”

Steve rolled his eyes, his didn’t want to partake in this conversation anymore. He had about twenty tapes left to rewind and return to the shelves and only ten minutes left of his shift. He hoped he’d get them all done, even weighing the option of staying later to get it done. He did not want to come in tomorrow morning and have the unfinished task waiting for him. He loved opening on Mondays, they were the most peace he got all week between the kids, Robin, and you. He loved you and all of his friends dearly, but sometimes Steve just needed a couple hours to himself, and he’d prefer to not spend those hours rewinding stupid movies.

“Well,” you pushed, “I’m waiting.”

Steve sighed, “Babe, let me finish these and my shift will be over. I’ll drive you home then, okay?”

You just stared at him. Steve popped a tape that had finished rewinding back into its case and restarted the process with another video. He briefly looked up to you to see the annoyed look on your face, “What?” His eyebrows drew together.

“I’m waiting for you to say I was right.” Now your annoyance was growing. He really wasn’t going to fess up?

The look Steve gave you was pure shock. He was surprised you were taking this that far that you were getting upset about it. He hated when your conversations got this way. It wasn’t a regular occurrence, because you were usually right and Steve had no trouble confirming when you were, even if it means admitting he was wrong. But you were wrong this time. For once, Steve Harrington was not in the wrong.

“I always admit when I’m wrong, babe, but not this time. I’m telling you, our first kiss was not to Careless Whisper. That is so cliché on so many levels.”

“Oh, so now our first kiss is cliché?”

Steve winced, “No, I didn’t say that. I said having your first kiss to Carless Whisper is cliché. We’re safe though because we did not have our first kiss to that song.”

Robin’s sleep deprived head popped up at the subject of your fight being revealed.

“Steve Harrington, I have a 4.0 GPA and I’m on track to graduate as my class’s valedictorian. I can do advanced trig in my sleep. I think I can remember what song we locked lips to for the first time,” you countered. Your hands had found their way to your hips and one eyebrow cocked upwards.

“I’m not insulting your intelligence, baby. You are way smart, just maybe this time you’re being a little forgetful. Our first kiss was to Every Breath You Take.” Steve smiled, fondly remembering the way his hands shook the first time he leaned in to kiss your cute lips.

Your nose scrunched up, “Ugh, as if, Harrington! That song is way creepy. I would not have been in any romantic mood enough to kiss you with that shit playing.”

“Hey!” Steve gasped, “You take that back, Henderson. Sting is the voice of our generation!”

Steve crossed his arms over his chest, long forgetting the tapes that needed to be rewound. Robin had to stifle her laughs as she watched you too bicker. She was thoroughly enjoying this. Normally, you were right and you and Steve would argue for a couple minutes before you proved him wrong and he’d apologize and kiss you lightly on the side of your head. But now (oh yes, Robin was enjoying this) you both were wrong.

“You’re wrong, Steve. You need to face the facts. We kissed on your back porch during Dustin’s welcome back party. It was right after Max pushed Lucas into the pool, remember?”

“Of course I remember,” Steve rolled his eyes, “and the song that was playing was Every Breath You Take.”

“No, it was Careless Whisper!”

“Every Breath You Take!”

“Careless Whisper!”

“Every Br-“

“Christ! Can you two shut up already?”

You two turned mid argument to look at Robin who had begun to rub her temples and had her eyes crewed shut. “You two are insufferable. It was fun at first, but Jesus! You bot are wrong, okay?”

Robin had never butted in on your arguments before. She typically let them play out or would egg you guys on with Dustin or another one of the kids if they were present. What started this time as fun watching you two fight, had turned into a major headache.

“Oh yeah, Buckley? And what do you know?” Steve grilled the girl.

“Yeah, go ahead, Rob. Tell us.” You smiled.

Robin sighed and laid her head down for a moment before lazily picking it back up to roll her head towards you two. She looked both of you in the eyes and pursed her lips.

“You’re both wrong because I made the mix for that party.”

Both you and Steve shared a look, “Ok. And?” You pushed.

“And,” Robin turned away towards her small backpack laying against the stool she sat ontop, “I still have the tape. One second.” Robin turned her attention to her bag. You and Steve shared another look.

“Look, Robin, this has nothing to do with our discussion, ok? Now, if you’ll excuse us. I was just about to prove, Steve wrong.”

“Oh, really?” Steve asked sarcastically. He turned his attention back to you and got a bit closer, “Well maybe I was just about to prove you wrong!”

“Both of you shut the hell up!” Robin cut in again. “God, if you two would just listen for a second. I made the mix for that party. That means I oversaw every song that played. I know for a fact that neither of those damn songs are on this tape,” she finally found what she had been digging for and held it out to the two of you.

You took the tape from Robin and turned it over to read the names of the songs scribbled on the listing paper. Steve had moved even closer to peer over your shoulder. The both of you read the list of songs multiple times. Robin was right. Neither Carless Whisper nor Every Breath You Take was on this tape.

“However,” Robin said pulling the tape back from your grasp, “a little romantic Clapton number is on this tape.”

You didn’t need to look at Steve to know he was turning just as red as you.

“And if you both remembered correctly, then you’d know that Wonderful Tonight was playing when Lucas tried to kiss Max in front of everyone and that’s why he was pushed into the pool.” Robin sat up with a knowing look on her face. She knew she had gotten both of you.

“I’m waiting,” she said, a smirk on her lips.

Both you and Steve mumbled your own versions of, “You’re right.” “Sorry, Robin.”

“Good, now…both of you leave. Steve, I’ll finish the tapes for you and lock up,” Robin turned away again and hoped off her stool to head to the employee restroom. Without another word from either of you, Steve and you grabbed your belongings and left the store.

The ride back to your house was painfully awkward and quiet except for the rock radio station playing on a low volume. Shame ran hot through the both of you. The tension in the car was awfully thick. It was up in the air who would say ‘Sorry’ first. Sure, you’d both apologized to Robin for your very public lover’s quarrel, but you’d yet to apologize to each other. Steve threw his car into park at the end of your driveway. Your mom was home, meaning Steve wouldn’t be coming up to hang out for a bit. Your mother was overprotective and hovered a lot, leaving you and Steve no time to enjoy each other’s company.

“Look,” Steve stared but you didn’t let him finish because you were blurting out an apology before he could even form his mouth around his own. You both turned to look at one another.

“No, I’m sorry,” Steve leaned in towards you and brought his hand down onto your thigh.

“Steve, really, it’s okay. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have let it get that far.”

“Well, I should’ve remembered,” Steven shook his head. You chuckled, “Well, I forgot too, silly.”

You both let the quiet take over for a moment. Just the two of you staring at each other.

“I hate fighting with you, y’know?” Steve’s hand had come up to your face and his thumb brushed against your cheek. “Even when it’s over something stupid.”

“I’m sorry my mind thinks I have to be right constantly,” You admitted. “I’m very lucky that you put up with me, Harrington.” You look up and smile sheepishly at him. His eyes soften and before you can react, he’s pulling you in for a kiss. It’s long and sweet, not hurried, or hungry for anything else. Steve loves kissing you like this, just savoring being with you and knowing you’re safe in his arms.

“Normally,” Steve said, pulling back from the kiss, “I wouldn’t put up with that from anyone else, not even your brother. But I love when you prove me wrong, Henderson. It’s kinda hot.” You giggled at his confession and pulled him back for another kiss. “And now, we’re taking back to 77 with this Clapton Classic,” the disc jockey announced over the radio. Neither you nor Steve cared or even noticed as the opening riff to Wonderful Tonight played softly through the car’s speakers.

#steve harrington #stranger things #Steve Harrington x reader #Steve Harrington x henderson!reader #robin buckley #netflix #stranger things fanfics #Steve Harrington fanfics #Steve Harrington fic #Steve Harrington request #Joe keery #cedar writes

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thyme-in-a-bubble · 1 year

Note

you made me blush in my inbox 😡😡 so here it is:

♡ friends to lovers where steve overhears his shy! inexperienced! giggly! s/o calling him “dreamy” or “a dreamboat” to robin because she firmly believes he is her dream come true

i have a draft saved with just a list of concepts to send so lmk if you’re curious olhem

A/N: okay, so I've had a bit of writers block the past few weeks... lots of ideas, but the words just aren't flowing. so, I'm sorry darling that this is super short... still cute though! ALSO! HAPPY BIRTHDAY HARMONIA! (it's in two days, but still. happy birthday baby 😘)

∼ gentle reminder that feedback, but especially reblogs are the way you support writers on here ∽

masterlist | join my taglist

“What?” you shifted, demanding an explanation for Steve’s indestructible gaze.

“Oh no, nothing,” he smiled adoringly, not shifting those big brown eyes off you even a millimetre.

“Seriously, why are you staring at me?”

Leaning in close, you thought for a moment that he was gonna kiss you, but then when his nose bumped against yours, he breathed out, “you think I’m dreamy…”

“Oh my god,” you bowed your head, trying to hide the rapidly growing blush upon your cheeks.

Determinedly following your head down, he sang into your hair, “you think I’m a dreamboat. You think I’m your prince charming. You are so in love with me…”

“Stop it,” you pleaded through your smile, bringing your hands up to cover your face.

#lea’s writing #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington x fem!reader #steve harrington requests #steve harrington request #steve harrington one shot #steve harrington drabble #steve harrington fic #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington fanfiction #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington x you #steve harrington oneshot #steve harrington blurb #harmonia🌺

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crappymixtape · 1 year

Text

you're never far behind • part one

when your dad calls and needs your help at home in hawkins you can't say no, but when you arrive back in town you uncover a friendship you thought you'd lost a long time ago | ( 6.2k, angst, tiny fluffies, best friends to strangers to friends to lovers, steve x reader, steve x you )

Y O U ‘ R E N E V E R F A R B E H I N D 🎶 long time, wild rivers

“Was so good of you to come, hon. It’s a lot for your dad to do on his own, especially on delivery days. Can’t lie, sure is nice to see your face around again too! Need a warm up?”

“Please? Thanks, Georgie.”

“Sure thing, sweets.”

Steam lifted from the mug on the counter in front of you as Georgie filled it with more hot coffee. The diner still looked the same as it had when you’d left four years ago. Black and white checkered tiles, worn red plastic seat tops sparkling dully in the florescent lighting from above, the smell of french fries and Georgie’s perfume mingling in the air.

You’d arrived home, home in Hawkins, the night before and had only been to the diner and the post office, but people were already talking about it. Word got around fast. Your dad had been stubborn about it at first, but after he knocked over a couple of shelves in the shop he knew he was in over his head.

He owned the only bookstore in town, Turn A Page, for the last twenty years and took pride in the fact that he didn’t need any help doing it. But then he broke his leg falling off a ladder in the front yard trying to clean out the gutters and it took him a full week to call you.

“Hello?”

“Hey, scout. It’s me, doin’ okay?”

“Dad, yeah I’m good. Just finishing up a few things for a deadline. Everything okay down there?”

Silence.

Your dad was never quiet, so you knew it wasn’t good.

“Dad,” your tone was flat, firm, uninterested in bullshit and he hummed for a second longer, buying himself a bit more time, but gave in when he heard you suck in an anticipatory breath.

“It’s fine! It was just a little tumble. Cleaning out the damn gutters is a mess, but the x-rays came back showing a clean break, which is great news by the way! And I’ll only need crutches for a couple of months–”

“A clean break? X-Rays? Dad! C’mon, what the hell?”

“I didn’t want to worry you, I’m really fine down here. It’s just that, you know crutches, they’re kind of clumsy and hard to get the hang of and–and I bumped into one of the shelves at the shop and well…”

“And well?” you pushed, heart dropping from your throat after realizing it wasn’t as bad as you’d thought.

“Well, I hate to ask you. To be a burden, your old dad…”

“Dad,” you softened a bit, holding the receiver to your ear as you twisted the cord around your finger, waiting for him to just spit it out.

“Think you could come down for a month? Just to help me around the shop, get things set up for my stupid crutches? Maybe help me interview someone to putter around and do the stuff I can’t do just yet?”

“Yes. Of course I can. Dad, I really wish you’d ask someone else to come do the gutters. It’s not like you’re gonna all of a sudden need hearing aids or a walker just because you’re asking for some help.”

“Hey now, I manage just fine on my own. I raised you by myself, gutters ought to be a damn cake walk.”

You huffed a small laugh and shook your head, leaning against the wall in your kitchen, “Yeah, yeah. I know. You’re lucky I never take vacations.”

“And what a trip, huh? Come stay down here in Hawkins for a month and maybe you’ll wanna stay this time,” you could hear his smile on the other end as you let out a small groan.

“I doubt it, but I’ll hear your pitch when I get down there.”

“Perfect. It’ll be good enough you won’t even have any questions at the end.”

“Mmhm.”

Silence again, but this time it was warm. Like you were sitting next to your dad on the old brown couch in the living room back home watching Family Ties and eating microwave whatevers while you laughed so hard you cried. Maybe you did miss it a little.

“Okay, dad. I gotta go, I’ll catch the bus down after I let work know.”

“Thanks, bub. I really do appreciate it.”

“It’s okay, I want to.”

“Alright. You know I love you.”

“Yeah, love you too.”

“You headed over to the shop? Can I send you with a coffee and cinnamon roll for the boss?” Georgie asked with a sweet smile, her long earrings dangling just below her jawline as she turned toward the pastry case.

“He doesn’t need anymore sugar, Georgie,” you chided, but your tone didn’t hold any heat as the older woman turned back around, cinnamon roll boxed up tidy in one hand and a to-go cup of black coffee in the other.

You leveled her with a look, but the smile tugging at the corners of your lips gave you away. “Fine. But maybe make some croissants or something with less–” you waved your hand toward the sticky-sweet-frosting-coated rolls in the case, “–well, just less.” Both of you started laughing and Georgie gave you a wink.

“Okay, sure. I’ll see what I can whip up.”

“His heart thanks you,” you sighed, shaking your head and getting up from the counter. “I’ll be back tomorrow I’m sure,” leaving some cash on the counter you shouldered open the door, bell jingling brightly above you, and stepped out onto main street.

The sun was out, warming everything in the bright early morning light. You could already feel how it wanted to heat up, wanted to make your skin feel too hot and bright. Pink and red like ripe strawberries, wanted to kiss it and dot new freckles along your nose and cheeks. The ones you’d hated when you were younger, but liked now for whatever reason and even though it was September, summer was clinging on a bit longer refusing to let go, and down town was buzzing with activity. People were bustling around getting ready for the day, shops opening and setting out their signs on the sidewalk, pulling people in to browse and seek refuge in the late afternoon heat.

After the old antiques place closed up next to Family Video your dad was quick to jump on it and lease the space, seeing the potential it had and wanting to put action to his passion for books.

He and your mom divorced when you were young, too young to understand or ask questions or get lost in the whys and the only memory you had of her was a glowing, glittering thing. Dark, tight curls and lavender, eyes warm like burnt caramel, hugs pulled close and while you don’t remember you were at least thankful that it was a happy one.

Growing up you swore that love was real, swore you’d find someone to sweep you off your feet like they did in all those Disney movies, but as time spun on you realized that maybe love was a story people told themselves as a distraction. Like looking through magazines full of pictures of places far, far away and telling yourself someday you’d visit when you knew you really wouldn’t. Your dad, despite his own history, felt differently.

He thought love was a wonderful, all-consuming thing that wrapped itself around you like hot cocoa after being out in the snow. A beautiful give and take. Terrifying honesty and openness that would set you free once you surrendered and even though he had remained single after your mom he still believed it.

“Morning, bub! Oh coffee, thank god. And a cinnamon roll? Remind me to stop by the diner on the way home, Georgie’s a sweetheart.”

“Yeah well, I told her you don’t need anymore of this,” you said, shoving the box at him from across the front counter, “Or broken bones won’t be your only worry.”

“Hey, now. Let me have this,” he grumbled back, taking a drink of his coffee, but then his expression softened as realization came over him. “Ah, I forgot to tell you. It’s game night, so we’ll close up shop and just head over to the high school after,” he said casually, opening up the register.

“Game night?” you started, worried there was some weekly canasta game he’d failed to tell you about, but he laughed and waved you off.

“Game night. Basketball. You know, round orange ball? Throw it into a hoop?”

You firmed your lips into a line and rolled your eyes. “Yes. Okay. I get it. Are we cheering on anyone specific?” you asked expectantly, tossing your bag behind the counter, taking your name tag from the drawer and pinning it on your shirt.

“No, but if we didn’t go we’d be a disgrace to the whole community,” he stated very matter-of-factly and you shook your head.

“Okay, okay. Game night. Great, can’t wait.”

“Listen, I’ll buy us popcorn and soda and do the whole thing. Just like you’re back in high school,” he bribed and you looked at him skeptically over your shoulder.

“I don’t want to be back in high school.”

“C’mon, it wasn’t that bad was it? Besides, we’ll see a couple of your old friends I’m sure.”

“Friends?” you felt your stomach flip over at the sudden rush of memories that flooded your mind right there on the spot.

Red licorice, filling the van with hazy smoke, juice too sweet and mixed with bad vodka, late nights floating weightless in pools while the moon hung overhead.

“Yeah,” your dad’s face scrunched up in thought, digging for names, and when it finally hit him he jabbed a finger at you. “Eddie Munson for one! He’s around here. And that Buckley girl, she manages Family Video now and…” his eyes lifted to the ceiling, thinking, and then, “Oh! God, I need more coffee. Steve, Steve Harrington. He took the coaching job last year. Best one we’ve had in a long time.”

Steve.

Steve Harrington.

Your brain felt like it had disconnected from reality. Like it was scrambling to try and figure out what exactly your dad had just told you and the look on your face was apparently making that all too obvious.

“Oh, I’m sorry, I just thought you’d like to–”

“No! No that’s great,” you cut him off, trying to give him a big smile and thankfully he took it as you turned around to face the bookshelf again, “Can’t wait to catch up.”

Everything was a mixture of cheers and boos and the clock buzzing and the slap of the ball on the court and you tried to ground yourself in it all, but it felt like you were drowning. It was so familiar, but so foreign and as you watched the kids on the other side of the court you tried to remember what it was like. Laughing with each other or sneaking booze into paper soda cups or not caring at all being attached at the face in the stands.

You might have been able to get a grip on shit, might have waded through the night just fine, but there was something else that held you tight like a vice.

Messy brown hair, moles and freckles like tiny constellations scattered across his skin, the same old dirty pair of Blazers on his feet, the curve of his mouth, the way he propped his hand on his hip.

Steve.

Your best friend.

Was your best friend.

You knew you should’ve been watching the game, should’ve been paying attention so that you could hold at least a semi-decent conversation the next morning in the shop, but you couldn’t pull your eyes away.

Coach Harrington.

Was he the same as he’d been before you’d left? Smug and cocky, but all warm and soft underneath. Shotgunning a beer one minute and holding your hand tight and close in his the next. Singing loud enough in the car his voice cracked and broke until he fell apart into laughter and looked over at you with those eyes. Burnt caramel, warm honey, flecks of gold and green and deep and–

“Hell of a game! My god, paper’ll have a heck of an article tomorrow,” your dad’s voice shook you back to reality and when you looked back up at the scoreboard the time read 00:00.

“Yeah, yeah damn. Great game,” you laughed weakly and tried to smile at your dad, eyes flicking back over to the sidelines to see Steve and the rest of the team were gone. Because of course they were. The game was over.

“Well. Don’t feel like you gotta come straight home,” your dad said, giving your arm a squeeze, “I know you probably wanna catch up with your friends.”

“Dad–” you started, brows furrowing together as you pinched the bridge of your nose between your fingers, “I really don’t feel like we’re friends, it’s been years since–”

“Oh don’t be silly, time doesn’t matter,” he waved a hand dismissively at you and stood from the bench, a crutch under each arm, “Just go say hi already. Scaredy cat.”

“Excuse me–” you protested, offense all over your face as you got ready to dig into him, but it stalled on your lips as you heard the metal slam of a door across the gym. It was a knee jerk reaction to look up and as you did you wished you hadn’t.

Your eyes met Steve’s, his faded navy baseball hat working overtime to contain all that hair, and while it was only for a split second it felt like a lifetime. You’d been thinking all night about what you were going to do, what you’d say, and maybe you secretly hoped he’d give you a smile but you were met with something worse.

Indifference.

Not so much as a smile or a nod or half-hearted wave, his lips in a firm line, or was it a grimace? It couldn’t be, but then he was looking away and shoving open the gym door into the parking lot.

“Excuse you–” your dad retorted, but when you didn’t sass him back he waved a hand across your eye line. “Hey, you in there?”

“What?” fell out lamely and your head whipped back around.

“You were about to take me to school on something, but…” he drifted off, eyes flicking up to the door Steve had just left through.

“Oh, I just mean–it’s just–it’s been so long. You know? They’re probably busy and–”

“Bub, you don’t know until you try. You’re gonna want someone your own age to talk to while you’re in town. Look, I’m already driving you nuts,” he laughed and reached over to give your shoulder a little poke.

Rolling your eyes you jammed your hands into your pockets and jerked your head toward the door, “C’mon old man. You can drive me nuts at home.”

“Alright,” he chuckled and clumsily followed after, still getting the hang of his crutches. “But promise me you’ll get out every now and again while you’re here? Please?”

Looking down at the old gym floor covered in scuffs and dents and dings you sighed. Was this the wrong decision? Should you have stayed home? Just sent someone else to help out? “Okay. Sure. I promise,” you murmured opening the door for your dad and walking out into the night.

The next morning you were up again early, throwing on a pair of jeans and a band tee, Chucks beat up and snug on your feet. The exact opposite of what you were supposed to wear to work back in the city, but it was a surprisingly welcome change. No presentations to creative leadership, no manuscripts to screen, no deadlines and no phone on your desk ringing off the hook. Just the smell of books, the lilt of the bell on the door and too much time to think.

Think about last night. About how you still had nearly a month left in Hawkins. Had no idea how you were going to spend it and no idea why god’s name you were still thinking about him.

About Steve.

About the look, or non-look, he’d given you.

And while you couldn’t blame him, it didn’t make it sting any less.

Hand on your closet door you moved to shut it, but your eyes caught a flash of red. A box on the top shelf. You’d taken most everything with you when you moved to Indianapolis for college, but had apparently missed that.

Pulling it down you blew the dust off the top of it and lifted the lid slowly to find a pile of forgotten memories looking up at you. Throat tightening, a flood of unexpected emotions poured over you, wrapping themselves snug and warm around your heart.

Polaroids of a younger version of yourself grinning up through the frame, joint dangling from your lips, a pair of sunglasses perched on your nose. One of Steve and Eddie mid-jump into the quarry on the hottest day in July. Robin laughing, cheeks stuffed too-full with grapes on a dare to see how many she could fit in her mouth. Nancy’s tiny frame enveloped by Jonathan’s big arms, his hand outstretched to block the lens, both of them grinning like mad.

You felt a small laugh fall from your lips as you gently set the box on your bed, gathering the polaroids up and setting them aside to find more things at the bottom. An old half-smoked joint stub, a lighter, a button with “Nancy for President!” on it, movie tickets and a couple pieces of popcorn, an old Family Video name tag, and something bright hiding under a pair of 3D glasses. Reaching in, your fingers softly lifted it from the box.

Tiny little strings of thread twisted together in a messy braid. Your three favorite colors, purple, green and pink tangled together in a promise you’d made Steve all those summers ago and you felt your chest squeeze. Guilt. Regret.

“God, I’m terrible at this, it looks like shit,” Steve grumbled, tongue poking out between his lips in concentration as he tried to braid his strings together.

Both of you were sat on the floor of your room, knee to knee with your back against your bed, radio playing Pet Shop Boys in the background. The last rays of sunlight fell through your window and danced across the bare skin of your legs, fan on the ceiling pushing too-warm air around the room.

“It doesn’t look like shit, it’s fine–” you tried for reassurance, but the small smile playing on your lips gave you away.

“Fine. That’s not ‘good’ or ‘great’. It makes it sound like–” Steve started to protest, but then he glanced over to see your fingers deftly twisting together his favorite colors – yellow, blue and orange. “Christ, yes it does look like shit! Look at yours, are you kidding me?” he flung a hand out for emphasis and you let out a laugh.

“Shut up! I’ve been doing this since second grade or something stupid, cut yourself a break,” you reached across your lap to shove him, expression softening as he shook his head.

“No, no way. You can’t wear this. People will ask what idiot tried to make you a dumb friendship bracelet in the dark with two left hands,” and he started to ball it up, but your hands covered his, head dipping down to look at him properly.

“Steve, it’s not about what it looks like,” you chided gently and he huffed a sigh, but you gave him a little smile, “Best friends forever, right?”

“Best friends forever,” he mumbled back, your little motto, but when he looked up at you his frown softened.

Silence lingered then for a moment between the two of you, his eyes still looking into yours as you floated in the soft light that filled your room, your hands pressing into each other. The last bits of sun and summer holding you tight in its warmth.

Steve’s lips parted as he stared at you, the look in his eyes making you feel like all the air had been pulled from your lungs, like your room had fallen away and all that existed in that moment was you and Steve.

“D’you have to go?” he murmured.

“I–” you stuttered, suddenly unsure of your answer, waffling on what had been such a sure decision just a few of months ago. To get out of Hawkins. To find something new. Something away from Steve and leave all of this behind.

“Just stay.”

“Steve…” your voice was barely above a whisper, eyes looking and searching his as he untangled a hand from yours and settled it gently on your cheek.

“Stay,” he whispered and as he leaned in slow and steady you swore time stood still, his lips pressing into yours, warm and soft like they held summer and promises of forever.

“Didja fall in up there? Cos if you did, I can’t climb the stairs to help you, bub,” you sucked in a gasp, your dad’s voice pulling you out of the spiral you’d fallen into, tears welling up at the corners of your eyes. Hastily wiping your arms across your face you tossed the bracelet back into the box and shut the lid, shoving it back up on the shelf you’d found it on.

“Yeah! Sorry, just trying to find my other shoe,” you lied, voice wobbling a little as you hurried over to your dresser mirror to make sure you didn’t look like you’d been crying.

“Alright, meet you at the car!” he called up the stairs and you took in a breath, trying to steady yourself.

“It’s fine. You’re fine,” you whispered to your reflection.

And somehow you’d managed to gather yourself together before hopping into your rental car, driving you and your dad down the road to the diner for coffee before work. The sun was out again, but it didn’t hold as much heat as it had the day before and you opted to open the windows instead of cranking the AC.

“You sure you want it hot?” you asked your dad, shifting into park at the curb.

“Yes, I’m sure. Coffee is brewed hot, why would you cool it down?” he shot back indignantly and you huffed a laugh.

“Alright, no one’s judging, I just–” shutting your door you poked your head in through the window, “–it’s gonna be warm again today. Cold is nice sometimes!”

“Hot, please!” your dad yelled after you as you pulled the diner door open, waving him off with a dismissive hand.

“Mornin’, hon! The usual?” Georgie greeted you warmly, earrings dangling past her jawline and bright in the light from the windows.

“Yes, please, but make mine cold if you can?”

Saddling up at the counter, your fingers idly flipped the plastic pages of one of the menus while you waited, the sound of bacon sizzling in the kitchen. It was odd, the comfort this place offered you, but it was needed this morning and you settled into it easily like a warm hug. Like seeing an old friend and you were so content you didn’t hear the bell on the door ring behind you, but the voice that followed was louder than your heart pounding against your ribcage.

“Gigi! Need a coffee and bacon, egg on toast to-go this morning.”

You nearly fell off your stool to hide under the bar, but opted instead to be an adult and hide your face behind your arm, propping an elbow on the counter and tossing your gaze off in the opposite direction.

“Stevie! Lord have mercy, that game gave me a couple of new gray hairs,” the older woman teased playfully and the laugh he gave back made your stomach flip over.

“Sorry, we’ll do better next time, promise.”

“Good, you better. S’on me this morning.”

“G, you don’t have to do that–”

“Yes, I do! Don’t you fight me on that, I’ve got a mean south paw.”

Steve laughed again and you wanted to die as he sat on the stool one over from you, drumming his fingers on the counter and shaking his head, “Okay, okay. You win.”

“That’s right. I do,” and Georgie busied herself with getting his coffee, barking back his order to the cooks just as yours came through the bus window.

Shit. No way to leave undetected now.

“Alright, sweets. Here’s your dad’s coffee and I had Hal whip up a little whole wheat toast with scrambled eggs. Better than a cinnamon roll?” Georgie gave you a very pleased look and you felt like you were going to collapse in on yourself as you moved your hand away from your face to take the two coffees and box of food.

“Thanks, Georgie,” you mumbled sheepishly, keeping your eyes straight ahead, but you could feel him looking at you.

Clearing your throat you left a wad of cash on the counter before turning to leave, looking everywhere except that damn stool. You made it halfway to the door before his voice stopped you in your tracks.

“Thought that was you.”

Your breath caught in your throat and you wished running out of the diner had been an acceptable response to both the panic rising in your chest and Steve’s clipped tone, but you didn’t and instead turned around to finally face him.

“In the flesh,” you joked lamely and immediately wanted to kick yourself.

He was studying you as though he were looking for something. Eyes still warm like honey, mouth firmed in the same line they’d been pursed into the night before, brows unamused and pulled in at the middle. He didn’t laugh.

“Had enough of the ‘big city’?” he mocked, tongue jamming into his cheek as he watched you uncomfortably shift your feet on the checkered tile floor.

“Yeah, smells worse than cow shit if you can believe it,” you were shocked at how quickly you were thinking on your feet and almost grinned at him, but his reply knocked you down a peg or two.

“I could’ve told you that,” he grumbled, turning in his stool to look back at Georgie, the older woman flicking her eyes back and forth between the two of you like she was watching a tennis match. In fact most everyone else in the diner was watching now and you felt heat rise in your cheeks.

“Well, I’ll be here all month, so knock yourself out,” and before he could throw anything back at you, you hurried out the door to the car and didn’t look back.

The conversation with Steve, if you could even call it that, was all you could think about for the rest of the day and your dad knew something was up, but he didn’t push you on it. You had to go back and fix the books you’d put in the wrong place in your mess of distraction after lunch and when you finally came around the back of the counter to get a drink of what was mostly melted ice now than iced coffee, your dad gently prodded.

“Georgie say anything this morning?”

“Yeah. Said she’s only feeding you whole wheat toast from now on, so get used to it,” you grumbled and he smiled, gently grabbing your hand before you could stalk away to hide in the rows of books.

“Did anything else come up?�� he fixed you with an expectant look and you frowned.

“No.”

“No?”

Closing your eyes you loosed a sigh and put your face in your hands. “Everyone here hates me,” came out muffled through your fingers and your dad let out a belly laugh.

“Hates you? Says who?”

“Everyone.”

“Bub, no one hates you,” he reached over to yank your hands away from your face and gave you one of his I’m dad, listen to me looks.

“Easy for you to say, you’re not the one running away from shit,” you argued back, folding your arms tight across your chest and his expression softened.

“Least you came back? I’d say that takes some courage,” he countered, lifting his brows for emphasis and poking you gently with the end of one of his crutches.

You frowned and he laughed again, reaching over to pull you into hug. “Listen. Don’t be so hard on yourself. Most of the time these things are cleared up with a simple conversation,” he said, holding you out at arm’s length.

“Simple conversation? Yeah I don’t think so–”

“You haven’t even tried,” he cut you off and gave you a stern look, “Y’know, I’m not as dumb as I look.”

“I didn’t say that–”

“Promise me you’ll talk to him. Even if it sucks at first, just try it.”

You sharply exhaled a short puff of air through your nose, looking down at the floor not wanting to give in, but you could feel your dad staring holes into you.

“Fine. Fine. I’ll try,” you conceded, kicking a toe into the base of the counter and your dad shoved your shoulder playfully.

“That’s the ticket, and you know I’m always here for advice,” he wiggled his eyebrows at you and you rolled your eyes, a small smile playing on your lips.

“No offense, but no thanks,” you teased, walking back to keep stocking the shelves and he called after you.

“I’m like, twenty-two years older than you are! I know a lot!”

“Sure you do, dad! I’m sure you do.”

Cleared up with a simple conversation.

Sure. Right. Of course. But where were you supposed to even have said conversation? How were you supposed to ask Steve if he wanted to talk? Just waltz up to him on the street and casually see if he wanted to have a sit down with you? There was no way you were going to be able to muster up the courage to approach him at the diner and after that fated morning you made sure to arrive before or after he grabbed his usual 7:30am pick-up.

It wasn’t until you were closing up shop again on Friday that your dad reminded you of the plans you’d made. Well, that Hawkins had made for you.

“Better giddy up, gonna miss tip off,” your dad was digging around in the counter drawer for the keys as you finished sweeping the entryway.

“Tip off?”

“Yeah,” he stopped his search long enough to give you a look and then went back to digging, “Game night.”

Oh, fuck. Right. Game night. Because all of Hawkins shut down at five on Fridays for basketball and god forbid you miss it.

“Think I’ll stay home,” you mumbled, eyes on the floor, but you could feel the judgement your dad was throwing across the shop at you.

“And miss out on quality time with your old man? Before I’m all wrinkly and need an actual wheel chair?”

“That’s not fair,” you flicked your eyes up to frown at him, pointing a finger for emphasis and he grinned.

“You drive, I’m a little–” he shook a crutch at you and it was like you could physically feel yourself giving in.

“As soon as you get rid of those? I’m gone,” you grumbled and he laughed, an Aha! coming from behind the counter as he finally yanked the keys from the drawer.

“Lock up, I’ll start hobbling,” tossing the keys at you, you barely caught them and as soon as his back was turned you stuck out your tongue. What? Maturity is overrated.

The gym was packed. Your dad had failed to mention Hawkins was playing their rival team from the next town over and you tried to get a grip on shit. It took everything in you to not look at Steve as the starting line up was introduced, and you managed somehow, but once the game started you couldn’t help yourself.

Stealing a glance, you felt your pulse flutter against your neck. God he looked good. Same faded navy baseball cap snug over his mess of brown hair, hand propped on his hip as he yelled plays from the sidelines, jaw clenched on the wad of gum in his mouth and you grumbled under your breath, but your heart told a different story as it hammered against your ribs.

You sat with your arms folded across your chest, determined to be unhappy and miserable for the entirety of the game, but somehow every time Hawkins made a three-pointer or nailed all of their free throws after a foul you felt yourself softening until there were only two minutes left. The game was all tied up and you were a screaming mess.

“C’mon!” you yelled, hands cupped around your mouth as you stood up with the rest of the fans, “I can play better than these guys!”

Your dad had to bite back a laugh as he did his best to ignore you, trying not to bring attention to how invested you’d become. The rival team hit another bucket from the three-point line and you groaned along with everyone else, Hawkins down by two with 0:30 on the clock.

The point guard on the other team called a timeout and usually everyone would sit down, but the entire gym was still on their feet, anxious and watching as time ran out quickly.

Steve huddled his team up, gathering them around his clipboard and you craned your neck to try and see what was jotted down, but it was covered up by all the heads in the way. Watching as he talked to the boys you noticed how he was firm, but still soft. Decided, but encouraging, and when the buzzer went off you could just make out what he yelled at the team.

“Remember, it’s not about what it looks like! Long as you’re trying!”

Your breath caught in your throat.

It’s not about what it looks like.

Your words.

And you were so caught up in it all you didn’t hear the crowd when Hawkins hit the last three-pointer to end the game with a win. Didn’t hear your dad cheering next to you so loudly his voice cracked. Didn’t feel the bleachers shaking with all the jumping and bustling about. All you could see was Steve and as the team rushed him after the win he looked up and met your gaze, a flicker of a smile twitching at the corners of his lips.

“A photo finish, scout!” your dad grabbed your shoulder, other hand throwing a fist into the air, “Good game, boys!”

“Oh,” fell out, the sound of everything rushing back in against your eardrums, and you quickly put your fingers to your mouth to whistle, “Good game, Tigers!”

“Still don’t have to come home right away,” your dad was looking back over at you with a knowing smile on his face, “Georgie’ll give me a ride.”

You bit in your bottom lip, wishing you were unsure of what you wanted, but your eyes looked over at Steve and you knew what your answer was going to be.

Simple conversation.

“Yeah. Alright. I’ll stay, but don’t get too excited,” you grumbled, cramming your hands into the pockets of your jeans as the gym started to clear out.

“Great! I mean–cool,” your dad tried to recover, tried to not sound too excited, but his outburst gave him away. The next look you fixed him with was enough of a cue and he hobbled away after Georgie, making his way out with the rest of the crowd and leaving you there awkwardly in the stands.

Your eyes scanned the gym and couldn’t find Steve, but it was the same as it’d happened last time. He was gone soon as the game finished and then reappeared after a little while. Probably giving the boys a post-game run down or something, so you tried to make yourself look busy.

Reading the plaques on the walls, looking at the Hawkins hall-of-fame jerseys hung up in the rafters, the signed championship balls in cases along the walls, including the one signed by Lucas Sinclair.

A smile pulled at your lips and you put a hand on the glass, reading all the names one at at time, pausing just a little longer at Lucas’ signature. He was always so sweet.

“Taking a stroll down memory lane?” someone spoke up behind you, startling you a bit as you sucked in a gasp, and when you turned around to see who it was you wished you hadn’t.

Steve’s voice was a little less harsh than it’d been earlier in the week, but he still wasn’t smiling as he stood there in the empty gym looking at you like he was trying to dissect things and you felt your chest squeeze.

“High school, the best days of your life,” you mock swooned and he cracked just a tiny bit, the smallest little smirk, and you held onto it. Tucked it into your back pocket and saved it for later.

“Yeah. Bunch of bullshit if you ask me,” he retorted, feeding off your sarcasm and then turned abruptly and walked out the side door.

You stood there for a minute, confused. Didn’t he just agree with you? But then he was poking his head back in through the doorway, looking expectantly at you with those warm, brown eyes.

“Are you coming or…?”

Shit, you muttered and half-jogged to catch up as he disappeared out of view of the door frame.

crappymixtape™ • steve harrington masterlist // stranger things masterlist

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spaceyaceface · 2 years

Text

He Fell In Love (Steve Harrington x Reader)

Pairing: Steve Harrington x fem!Reader

Warnings/Cliches: Friends to lovers, idiots in love, (mutual?) pining, def a fix-it fic, everyone is fine what are you talking about, very minor spoilers for vol 1

Request: how about best friend!steve and the moment he realizes that he's in love with the reader? - Anon

A/N: This was going to be different but then it just happened the way it happened, please enjoy. I’ll probably definitely absolutely make a part two if yall want it. EDIT: Part 2 is here!

WC: 1.8k

TAGLIST OPEN

REQUESTS OPEN

Steve always looked forward to Saturday nights nowadays. After all the hell he’d been through, something as mundane as a movie night was like therapy. Not quite as good, but close.

He figured there would be a good turn out that night. He’d brought home a new release, Ferris Bueller’s Day Off. Most of the younger kids had seen it in theaters already, but insisted the rest of them had to see it, too.

He was hosting at his place tonight, as he usually did. For as long as he lived in his parents’ house, he was content on abusing his right to use their property when they were out of town. He was getting the popcorn bowls ready when the pounding on the door started.

“I’m coming, I’m coming!” he called out, making his way to the door. “Keep your pants on!”

He opened the door and the kids all came tumbling in. “You know, I really don’t need you all banging like that every time you come over. When it finally comes off its hinges, you’re paying for the new one.”

“Relax, Steve,” Dustin said, taking off his shoes on the ground by the door.

Steve rolled his eyes, picking up all the coats they had discarded and putting them into a somewhat organized pile. “It’s always ‘Relax, Steve,’ and never ‘Sorry Steve, you’re right, how inconsiderate of me.’”

“Because you’re never right,” Dustin fired back. He stood up. “Hey, wait up!” He called, racing after all the other kids as they’d made their way to the living room, chattering excitedly.

Steve’s frown disappeared when he head a chuckle from the doorway. Y/N came in the rest of the way, shutting the door behind her. “That’s what you get when you invite teenagers over.”

He smiled at her, folding his arms as he leaned against the wall. “Please tell me we weren’t that bad.”

“Probably worse.”

“Probably,” he replied. “Robin and Eddie coming?”

“Nah. Robin flaked on us because Vickie asked her to do something tonight, and Eddie is at band practice. They managed to score a gig.”

Most people in their group came and went each week. None of them minded if another made other plans or did something else; they had something much stronger keeping them together. After the experiences over the years--and especially a few months ago--a weekly movie night was a constant that they all relied on from time to time. Of all of them, Steve and Y/N were the most consistant with the tradition. For Steve, it was because he didn’t have many other friends. He could have been asking girls on dates, (which he still did occasionally), but there was something about movie night that kept him content most of the time.

Y/N and Steve walked into the living room. Max and Lucas were sitting next to each other on the ground. Will was sandwiched between Dustin and Mike, the two of them arguing about something on each side of him--his eyes went between them like a game of pong. Mike had his arm around El, who was braiding Max’s hair at her feet. Robin had just taught her how to braid recently, so she was taking every chance to practice as her own hair grew back out.

No was sitting on the smaller sofa, so Steve and Y/N claimed it as their own. As soon as they said, Steve threw his arm onto the back of the couch, just behind Y/N’s shoulders.

“Hey Mike,” he called, interrupting the debate. “Is Nancy coming, or are we good to get started?”

“She’s ditching tonight, her and Johnathan went to dinner or something.”

Steve nodded. A while back, that would have caused a sharp pain in his chest. But at some point, it had changed to a dull ache. And one day, it disappeared all together.

He wasn’t sure what had changed, but it felt better.

Dustin got the movie started and Y/N went to the kitchen to fetch the popcorn. She distributed a couple of bowls to the kids, keeping the largest one and plopped back down next to Steve. He chuckled.

She gave him a glare. “What?”

“Oh, nothing, you’re just greedy as always,” he mumbled as the first scene began.

“I brought it to share with you since you usually complain there’s not enough, but now that you said that, yes, yes I am greedy.” She moved herself to the furthest part of the couch, taking the bowl with her.

“Hey! You know you can’t eat it all by yourself!”

She shot him a playful glare. “Watch me,” she said, shoveling a buttery handful into her mouth.

He scoot over, pressing himself to her side and tried to snatch a handful, but she held the bowl away from him. He groaned. “Fine, I take it back, you’re not greedy. Can I have some now?”

There was a loud shushing noise, and Steve looked over to find Max glaring at the two of them. Y/N rolled her eyes and set the bowl into his lap.

He grinned. “Thanks.”

They stayed side by side, and at some point, his arm found his way from the back of the couch to over her shoulders. This wasn’t unusual. It was something he loved about his friendship with Y/N. It was all just so easy around her. Since taking down Vecna, they’d spent a lot of time together. She had been Eddie’s friend and had joined the hunt to find him, managing to get herself caught up in the whole mess. But like the rest of them, she seemed grateful for the little family she had found on the other side of disaster.

For a while, Steve had considered Robin his best friend, but it seemed like she’d gotten some competition lately. They hadn’t grown apart by any means, Y/N and Steve had just gotten so incredibly close.

Because, despite what he had expected, Y/N was... well, she was Y/N. She’d talked him down when things with his dad got heated, and he’d stayed up with her on the nights she couldn’t close her eyes, afraid of what she would see. There was something between them that wasn’t between him and Robin. He couldn’t quite tell what it was, but it meant more to him than the world.

The movie came to an end, and Steve turned his face toward Y/N’s, who was resting her head on his shoulder. “You awake enough to drive the gremlins home, or do you want me to?”

She sat up. “I’m awake, but I wouldn’t mind the company if you want to come.”

“Sure, I’ll be generous enough to grace you with my presence for an extra half hour,” he said as he stood.

She rolled her eyes. “On second thought...”

He laughed. Something flickered in her eyes when he did, but it was so fast he figured he was seeing things. “Nope, you’re stuck with me, L/N. Just like you’re stuck with the rest of these twerps.” He held out his hand to help her up.

As she took it to stand, she smiled. “Honestly, I wouldn’t trade it for anything else.” Her eyes looked surveyed the kids, all in various stages of waking up. Her gaze was soft, full of affection. Steve couldn’t help but think he looked at them the same way, too.

The drive home was uneventful. Once the kids woke up enough to get into the car, Y/N took them each home, waiting in their driveways to make sure they were safely inside before heading to the next house. Soon it was just her and Steve in the car, driving back to his place. Her hands tapped on the steering wheel in time with the music on the radio.

Steve yawned. “I’m glad you’re driving. I’m about to pass out.”

“Yeah?” Y/N said, glancing over at him. “You been sleeping ok?”

“Past couple of nights were rough. I’ll be out like a light tonight.”

She put the car in park once she pulled into his driveway. “You can call me anytime, you know. That offer still stands.”

He gave her a soft smile. “I know. It’s not as bad as it used to be. What about you, you doing ok?”

She gave a gentle nod. “Most of the time.”

“I think most of the time is all we can ask for.”

He was truly grateful for Y/N, how quick she was to check up on him. She spent a lot of time caring for others, and putting herself on the back burner. He’d learned that in the last few months of watching her play babysitter with all the kids, making sure they were feeling all right, that they were sleeping, eating well, coping. She’d done the same thing to him, and as soon as he realized she was letting herself deal with things alone, he jumped to be there for her.

But that was just the way Y/N was. Kind, caring, loyal. She’d fight tooth and nail when it came down to it, but when the smoke cleared, she was there to put things back together, even if she was broken herself.

That’s what he loved about her.

Steve froze. His heart started to hammer in his chest. He did, didn’t he? He loved Y/N. He loved the way she made him laugh, even at the worst of times. He loved the way she looked at the kids, eyes full of warmth he had seen no where else. He loved the way she felt in his arms, the way he felt complete when he held her.

He loved her, completely, utterly and irrevocably.

And damn if he wasn’t still falling.

“Steve?” Her voice brought him out of his trance, and his eyes shot up to meet hers. He almost regretted it--now that he’d made sense of it all, he felt like he could never look away. “You okay?”

“Y-yeah. Sorry, I was, um.” Words tumbled clumsily out of his mouth. But how was he supposed to function when she looked at him like that? “Thinking. I was just thinking.”

“Thinking what?” she asked slowly, confusion written across her face.

“Nothing.” It came out much too quickly. He cleared his throat and tore his eyes away from her, glancing out the door. “Nothing, I should... should go?” It came out like a question. He hadn’t meant to do that.

“Yeah,” she said softly, brows furrowed. “Yeah, you should get to bed. Are you sure you’re alright?”

He let out a small sigh, regaining a bit of his composure. “I’m sure. I’ll... I’ll tell you about it later, ok? Just not right now. Promise.”

She hesitated before nodded. “Ok. I’m making you stick to that promise, Harrington.” Her hand rested on his shoulder. “Go get some rest for me.”

Anything for you. The thought came naturally. And he meant it.

“Thanks, Y/N.”

He got out of the car, trying not to look back before going inside. The feeling of her stare on his back followed in to the front door. Once he walked in, He let out a sigh, trying to empty the butterflies that invaded his stomach.

He was doomed.

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