Temporary Fix | Steve Harrington
pairing: steve harrington x fem!reader
warnings: fwb mention, no feelings, heated make out, tension, mild language, playful arguments.
summary: you and steve were friends first, and that was the part that mattered. everything else, the late nights, the quiet routine, the way he kept showing up, didn’t mean anything. it was easy. something the two of you fell into without really thinking about it. something that didn’t need to be explained. because as long as it stayed like this, nothing had to change. right?
an: hey!! i’m so excited for you guys to read this story. thank you for taking the time out of your day for this :) if you have any ideas on where you’d like to see the story go, i’m all for them! this chapter is a little all over the place, but it’s what i envisioned.
reblogs and notes are appreciated <3
. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ ⟡ ݁ . ⊹ ₊ ݁. . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ ⟡ ݁ . ⊹ ₊ ݁. . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ ⟡ ݁ . ⊹ ₊ ݁. . ݁₊
The thing about secrets is that they’re a lot easier to keep when no one thinks to look for them.
Which, luckily for you, no one in your friend group ever did.
Mostly because everyone was too busy arguing.
“Okay, I’m telling you right now,” Eddie Munson said from the armchair, gesturing wildly with a half-eaten bag of chips. “That movie was objectively terrible.”
Across the room, Robin Buckley scoffed. “You have terrible taste.”
“I have great taste,” Eddie said, pointing a chip at her like it was evidence.
“You picked the movie where the killer is literally just a guy in a rubber mask.”
From the couch beside you, Steve Harrington leaned forward slightly. “Pretty sure the budget was like… twelve dollars.”
You snorted, tossing a pretzel at him. “Don’t act like you didn’t scream when the guy popped out of the closet.”
Steve caught the pretzel easily. “I didn’t scream.”
“Woah look at that reaction, so tactical.”
He tossed the pretzel back at you, hitting your shoulder.
Across the room, Eddie groaned loudly. “Will you two stop?”
“You started it,” you said, pointing at him.
“I started a movie night,” Eddie shot back. “Not whatever this is.”
You stuck your tongue out at him from across the room.
“Oh wow,” Eddie said flatly. “Very mature.”
You grabbed another pretzel from the bowl and tossed it at him. It bounced off his chest.
“You can’t ban people from movie night,” Robin said from the couch.
Steve leaned back against the couch beside you.
“Oh please,” you shot back. “He deserved it.”
Steve scoffed. “You threw food at him.”
Across the room, Eddie threw his hands up. “This is exactly what I’m talking about!”
Robin pointed between the two of you. “You guys argue like you’ve been married for ten years.”
You felt Steve go still next to you for half a second.
Then he scoffed. “Yeah, that’s not happening.”
You rolled your eyes, reaching for another pretzel. “Relax, Buckley. Harrington’s not my type.”
Robin’s eyebrows shot up immediately. “Oh really?” she said, leaning forward. “Okay, now I’m curious.”
Across the room, Eddie pointed at you dramatically.“Yeah, what is your type?”
You pretended to think about it for a second. “Hm… someone quiet,” you said.
Robin snorted. “Already the opposite of Steve.”
“And maybe someone a little mysterious.”
Eddie nodded seriously. “Still not Steve.”
That made Robin laugh. “Definitely not Steve.”
You popped the pretzel into your mouth with a small shrug. “See? Totally different.”
Across the room, Nancy Wheeler smiled faintly while Johnathan Byers glanced up from his camera, looking mildly confused about how the conversation had turned to him. No one noticed the way Steve had gone quiet beside you.
You reached for another pretzel from the bowl on the coffee table, but before your fingers could grab one, Steve’s hand slid in first, brushing lightly against yours. The contact wasn’t accidental, and he didn’t pull away right away—just long enough for it to feel deliberate. Then he grabbed a pretzel and leaned back against the couch like nothing had happened. No one else in the room noticed, but when you glanced over at him, Steve was already looking at you. Only for a second before he looked away again.
Eddie suddenly clapped his hands together like he’d just solved something important. A collective groan moved through the room immediately—everyone knew that tone meant he had come up with a new rule. Robin didn’t even bother looking up from where she sat, already shaking her head before he could explain whatever idea had formed in his brain. It didn’t stop him. He announced it anyway, declaring that anyone who complained about the movie should be responsible for picking the next one. The suggestion immediately sparked another argument—Robin shutting it down just as quickly as Eddie tried to defend it.
Jonathan made a quiet observation from the side about how everyone seemed to spend more time arguing about movies than actually watching them. Which only made things worse. Within seconds the room dissolved into overlapping complaints about Eddie’s movie choices, Robin’s criticism of literally everything, and Eddie loudly insisting his picks were “cult classics.”
That was roughly the moment Eddie grabbed a handful of popcorn and tossed it across the room.
And then the entire living room descended into chaos.
Someone ducked behind the armchair.
Eddie nearly knocked over a lamp trying to defend himself.
You leaned back against the couch cushions, laughing as the argument completely collapsed into a full popcorn fight. Moments like this were exactly why these people meant so much to you. Somewhere along the way—without any real plan or reason—you had all just sort of found each other. At a time when you probably needed it most.
And now they were just… there.
Ridiculous half the time.
And for a moment, sitting there in the middle of all the noise and flying popcorn, it felt exactly the way it was supposed to.
Across the room, Nancy checked the time on her watch. “We should probably go,” she said, nudging Jonathan lightly.
Jonathan nodded, slinging his camera strap over his shoulder. “Yeah, I promised my mom I wouldn’t stay out too late.”
“Since when do you keep promises?” Eddie asked.
“And since when do you listen to your mom?” You added.
Jonathan shrugged. “Since my mom started enforcing them.”
Chairs scraped the floor as everyone started standing up, stretching, gathering jackets.
Robin grabbed her bag. “Steve, we open tomorrow at nine. Don’t forget.”
“Yeah, yeah,” Steve muttered.
“I’m serious. If you’re late again I’m telling Keith it was your fault.”
“You tell Keith everything is my fault.”
The group slowly filtered toward the door, saying quick goodbyes and arguing about what movie to watch next time. You lingered near the couch, finishing the last pretzel from the bowl. By the time you looked up again, most of the room had emptied out.
Eddie was digging through a cabinet.
Robin was halfway out the door.
Nancy and Jonathan had already left.
Steve was standing a few feet away, grabbing his keys from the table when he noticed you were still there. He glanced over.
“You heading out?” he asked.
Steve twirled the keys around his finger for a second before tilting his head toward the door. “I can give you a ride.”
It sounded casual, like the offer didn’t mean anything. But you both knew it did.
You grabbed your jacket from the back of the chair.
The night air was cooler outside.
Steve’s car sat under the dim streetlight, the metal reflecting faint orange from the lamp above. He unlocked the doors with a quick click, walking around to the driver’s side while you slid into the passenger seat. The inside of the car smelled faintly like leather and whatever cologne Steve had started wearing recently.
For a moment, neither of you said anything.
Steve started the engine, the radio crackling softly to life as he pulled out onto the road.
“You were brutal back there,” he said after a minute.
You glanced over at him. “About what?”
“My personality apparently.”
You shrugged. “They asked.”
Steve huffed a quiet laugh, shaking his head slightly.
“Quiet, mysterious, humble,” he repeated. “That’s your type?”
You smirked a little, looking out the window. “Don’t sound so offended.”
Steve glanced over at you for half a second before looking back at the road.
The car went quiet again.
The kind that settles when you’ve known someone long enough that you don’t feel the need to fill it. Streetlights slid past the windows in slow intervals as Steve drove. The glow from each one cut across his face for a second before disappearing again, shadows settling back in across the car.
You watched him for a moment.
One hand rested loosely at the top of the steering wheel, fingers tapping lightly in time with the quiet music coming from the radio. His other arm was draped casually along the door, sleeve pushed up just enough to show the faint line of his watch.
Steve always looked strangely relaxed when he drove. Like it was the one time he actually stopped talking long enough to think.
You leaned your elbow against the door, watching the dark houses pass outside. “You’re being quiet,” you said.
Steve glanced over briefly. “So are you.”
You shrugged. “I’m mysterious.” you joked.
That earned a short laugh from him. “Right. That was on your list, wasn’t it?”
You turned your head slightly to look at him. “What’s on your list?”
Steve glanced over at you for a second before looking back at the road, one corner of his mouth lifting. “Wouldn’t you like to know.”
You rolled your eyes. “Please. I’m sure it’s something incredibly profound.”
“Yeah, actually,” he said. “It is.”
You leaned back in your seat. “Go on then.”
Steve tapped his fingers lightly against the steering wheel. “Well,” he said casually, “first requirement is someone who doesn’t throw pretzels at people.”
You snorted. “Guess I’m out already.”
“Immediately,” Steve said.
You just huffed a quiet breath, leaning back against the seat.
For a second the car filled with the soft hum of the engine and the quiet music from the radio.
You glanced over at him again. “Seriously though, what’s on your list?”
Steve took a second before answering, eyes still on the road.
“I don’t know,” he said slowly. “Just… a nice girl, I guess.”
He shrugged slightly. “Someone who’s easy to be around.”
The streetlight passed over his face again, casting brief shadows across his expression.
“Someone who actually likes the same stuff I do,” he continued. “Doesn’t think everything I say is stupid.”
You watched him quietly as he spoke.
“A girl who’s… I don’t know,” he said, searching for the word. “Sweet, I guess.”
He glanced over at you briefly before looking back at the road. “Normal.”
The car went quiet again after that.
Not awkward, just thoughtful.
Outside, the neighborhood grew quieter as Steve turned down your street, the tires rolling slowly over the uneven pavement while the headlights swept across the familiar row of houses. Neither of you spoke for a minute. When your house came into view, he eased the car toward the curb and parked, leaving the engine running as the quiet settled back over the street.
You glanced toward the porch light, then back at him. For a moment he didn’t move, just leaning back slightly in his seat with his fingers still resting loosely against the steering wheel.
Then he finally looked over. “You gonna invite me in,” he asked casually, “or am I just your personal chauffeur tonight?”
You raised an eyebrow. “Wow. You willingly offer me a ride home and suddenly you’re fishing for an invitation?”
Steve huffed a quiet laugh, looking back out through the windshield. “Relax. I’m kidding.”
You studied him for a second, then glanced back toward the house. The porch light had switched on automatically, casting a soft glow over the steps and the small patch of lawn. “C’mon,” you said, reaching for the car door handle.
Steve shut off the engine and stepped out a second after you did, the car door closing with a soft thud behind him. The night was quiet—the kind of stillness that settles over a neighborhood once most of the lights are off and everyone’s gone to bed
You walked up the short walkway toward your front porch, gravel crunching softly under your shoes as Steve followed a step behind. When you reached the steps, you turned slightly and pulled your keys from your pocket. Steve stopped just a little closer than necessary—close enough that you caught the faint trace of his cologne in the cool night air.
“Thanks for the ride,” you said, glancing up at him.
For a second, neither of you moved, the porch light humming softly above you in the quiet. You turned back toward the door and slid your key into the lock, but before you could twist it, Steve spoke again, his voice quieter this time.
You paused, glancing over your shoulder. “Meant what?”
Steve shrugged slightly, like it wasn’t important.“Nothing.”
You narrowed your eyes at him for a second. “…Okay.”
For a moment neither of you moved, the porch light humming softly above you in the quiet. Then you turned back toward the door and slid your key into the lock.
You were just about to turn the key in the lock when Steve spoke, looking toward the driveway. “Your parents aren’t home again?”
Your hand paused on the knob for half a second. Then you cleared your throat lightly. “Uh… yeah.”You twisted the lock and pushed the door open before the conversation could go any further. You stepped inside first, the door creaking softly as it swung open. After a second you turned back and pushed it wider, stepping aside to give him room.“C’mon,” you said, gesturing inside. “After you.”
Steve didn’t argue. He stepped past you into the house, glancing around out of habit even though he’d been there plenty of times before, the door closing quietly behind him.
You kicked your shoes off near the door, tossing your keys onto the small table by the wall. “Make yourself at home,” you said casually, walking farther into the living room.
Steve snorted quietly behind you. “Don’t mind if I do.”
You glanced back in time to see him shrug his jacket off and toss it over the back of the couch like he belonged there.
Which, at this point, he kind of did.
You dropped onto the couch first, leaning back against the cushions.
Steve lingered for a second before sitting down beside you, leaving just enough space between you that it could still look casual.
The TV across the room flickered faintly when you reached for the remote, filling the quiet house with low background noise. Neither of you actually watched it.
Steve’s knee bumped yours after a moment—not an accident. You glanced sideways at him and saw he was already looking at you. He had a way of doing that sometimes. Not often enough for anyone else to notice, but enough that you’d caught it more than once. It wasn’t the kind of look people gave someone they were in love with—there was none of that softness, none of that quiet devotion people talked about in songs and movies.
But it wasn’t the look friends gave each other either. It sat somewhere in between—something harder to read, like he was trying to figure you out.
At first, it had thrown you off. You’d catch him looking at you like that and wonder if there was something you were missing—some unspoken meaning everyone else seemed to understand except you. So you asked him about it. More than once. Each time, Steve would just shrug it off and say it was nothing—that whatever this was between the two of you was just helping each other out, like he’d said from the beginning.
When the two of you first started hooking up, it had been a little strange. Not awkward exactly—just unfamiliar. Like both of you were still figuring out where the lines were supposed to be now that things had shifted from just friends to… whatever this was. Late nights turning into making out, making out turning into sex, the kind of thing that happened easily enough but still took a little getting used to at first. Steve had almost stopped the whole thing early on—not because something was wrong, but because he’d been very clear about one rule.
He’d said it like it mattered—like it was the most important part of the whole arrangement. That had been the rule from the start. You never told him you were catching them. Not that you were. But the rule stayed in place anyway, hanging quietly in the background of whatever this thing between you had become
Over time, things settled into something easier—less uncertain. What had started as something a little messy slowly turned into something predictable. A routine. A steady one. And behind all the late nights, tangled sheets, and conversations that drifted into arguments before either of you even knew what you were arguing about, there was something else that had always been there first.
It was a real friendship. The kind where you knew the other person would show up if you needed them to. The kind where you could argue for twenty minutes straight and still end up laughing about it five minutes later. The kind where neither of you had to pretend to be anything other than exactly who you were.
You and Steve had always had each other’s backs—long before any of this started, and long after it became routine. That part had never changed. No one else knew about it—about the late nights, the quiet routine the two of you had fallen into. But that had never really mattered. Steve Harrington was your friend first, before anything else, and that had always been the part that counted. Maybe that was why it worked—because neither of you had ever asked it to be more than what it was.
Steve’s knee shifted slightly beside yours, the movement pulling you back into the present.
The TV flickered quietly across the room, casting soft light over the living room while the rest of the house stayed dim and still. For a moment neither of you said anything.
Then you spoke. “Nancy was really quiet today.”
Steve glanced over. “At Eddie’s?”
You nodded, eyes still on the TV even though you weren’t really watching it. “Yeah.”
Steve leaned back into the couch, his expression shifting just a little. “She’s probably just… thinking about stuff.”
You turned slightly toward him. “About Jonathan?”
Steve shrugged, but it was the kind of shrug that didn’t actually mean much. “I don’t know.”
You watched him for a second. “You noticed it too though.”
Steve huffed quietly through his nose. “Hard not to.”
Then he added, a little softer,
“She does that sometimes.”
You tilted your head slightly.“What?”
“Gets quiet when something’s on her mind.”
You studied him for a second longer before looking back toward the TV. “Sounds like you’ve been paying attention.”
Steve glanced away quickly, rubbing the back of his neck like he’d been caught doing something he didn’t mean to. “Yeah, well,” he muttered, “I know her.”
“Still care about her?” you asked after a moment.
It wasn’t teasing. Just a question.
Steve didn’t answer right away. He leaned back into the couch cushions, eyes drifting toward the TV even though he clearly wasn’t watching it. “I don’t know,” he said finally.
You nodded slightly, like that answer made sense.
Nancy Wheeler had a way of sticking with people. She had been Steve’s first love. Not just a high school girlfriend or someone he’d dated for a few months—his first real one. The kind that changes you a little. The kind that lingers even after things end. Their history wasn’t the kind that didn’t just disappear because time had passed or because they’d both tried to move on. Nancy had always been different from the girls Steve used to go out with—smarter, sharper, the kind of person who saw right through him when he was trying to act like someone he wasn’t. And even now, long after they’d broken up, there were still moments where you could tell that whatever had been there between them hadn’t completely faded.
Steve shifted beside you, running a hand through his hair before glancing over. “You’re not gonna say anything smart about that?”
You shrugged lightly. “Why would I?”
Steve studied your face for a second. “I don’t know. You usually do.”
“Not everything needs commentary.” That earned a quiet laugh from him.
You leaned your head back against the couch.“Since right now.”
Another small pause settled between you, the kind that wasn’t uncomfortable—just quiet. Steve shifted beside you after a moment, his knee bumping yours again. Still not an accident.
Steve leaned forward and grabbed the remote from the coffee table, flipping through a couple of channels before settling on something random.“You ever actually watch anything when this thing’s on?” he asked.
You huffed softly but didn’t argue.
Steve leaned back into the couch again, one arm stretching along the backrest behind you like he always did. The movement was casual, familiar.
The kind of thing neither of you thought twice about anymore.
For a minute the only sound in the room was the quiet murmur of the TV.
Then Steve nudged your knee lightly with his.“You’re thinking again,” he said.
You glanced at him. “So are you.”
Steve didn’t answer right away.
He was already looking at you again.
You held his gaze for a second before rolling your eyes lightly. “What?”
You shook your head. “Yeah, okay.”
You reached for the remote again and muted the TV. The room fell quiet.
Steve’s mouth twitched a little. “Your house is too quiet,” he said.
“You’re the one who came inside.”
You shifted slightly on the couch, turning toward him without really thinking about it. Steve moved closer at the same time, the couch cushion dipping under the shift in weight.
Steve’s hand slid from the back of the couch to the side of your neck, thumb brushing lightly along your jaw like it had done a hundred times before.
You grabbed the front of his shirt and pulled him in. The kiss wasn’t hesitant—it never was. It was easy, familiar, like picking up a conversation the two of you had already had a hundred times before.
Steve leaned into it immediately, like he’d been expecting it the whole time. One of his hands slid to your waist, steady and confident, pulling you a little closer against him. The couch cushions dipped under the shift, the space between you disappearing without either of you thinking about it.
It was never awkward with him.
Your fingers curled into the fabric of his shirt as the kiss deepened, the kind that felt more like muscle memory than anything new. Steve let out a quiet breath against your mouth, the corner of his hand moving up along your side before settling at your back.
For a second he pulled back just enough to look at you, his forehead almost brushing yours. “Still gonna pretend you don’t like me?,” he murmured.
You barely had time to roll your eyes before he leaned in and kissed you again, slower this time. Not hesitant—just deliberate, like he had all the time in the world.
Your hand slid into his hair as he leaned further into you, the easy familiarity of it all settling in the room the same way it always did. No big moment. No conversation about what it meant. Just the two of you falling into the same routine you always did whenever he showed up at your house, like it had been planned that way all along.
Your knee slid against his as he leaned over you a little more, the couch creaking softly under the shift. His thumb brushed absentmindedly along your side through your shirt while the kiss slowed for a second, just long enough for both of you to breathe. “You start this every time,” he murmured quietly against your mouth.
You smirked faintly, “You’re the one who drags it on.”
Steve huffed a soft laugh under his breath before kissing you again, one hand coming up briefly to steady himself against the back of the couch beside your head.The TV still flickered silently across the room, casting soft light over the living room walls while the rest of the house stayed quiet around you.
Eventually he pulled back just enough to look at you again, his hair already more messed up than when he walked in.“You’re impossible,” he said.
“Yet you keep showing up,” you replied.
Steve’s mouth curved slightly at that. “Yeah,” he said quietly.
Then he leaned in again, like the conversation had already ended. The kiss came back easy and familiar, Steve shifting closer as his hand slid from your waist to your side. His fingers traced lightly along your ribs through your shirt before settling again at your hip, pulling you a little further into him.
You shifted with him without thinking, your hand still tangled in his hair while the couch dipped under the movement.
Steve’s other hand came up briefly to your jaw, tilting your face toward his before he kissed you again, slower this time. The kind of kiss that lingered, dragging out a second longer than it needed to.
His thumb brushed along your side again.
A little lower this time.
You let out a quiet breath against his mouth.
Steve huffed a small laugh at that, his forehead resting briefly against yours. “See,” he murmured, his voice low, “this is exactly what I was talking about.”
You didn’t bother answering. Instead you pulled him back down into another kiss, your fingers curling tighter into the front of his shirt as he leaned over you slightly.
The TV continued to glow quietly across the room while the rest of the house sat in silence. Outside, the neighborhood had gone completely still. Somewhere in the back of your mind, you had the passing thought that Steve Harrington really should go home, but neither of you moved to make that happen. Not yet.
Because whatever this was had become routine—Steve Harrington showing up at your house, the two of you pretending it didn’t mean anything, kissing like it was the most normal thing in the world. Him climbing through your window on a weekly basis. The late nights in his car, the windows turned foggy. And maybe that was the strangest part.
Because Steve Harrington was just your friend.
And friends did this all the time.
ellievsbear
vaporwave
germansingergirl
annaxmalina
stormborns
tangentwithtanner
dededos
prguitarman
