She knows what her job is, and she does it well. But when a certain customer comes in, he seems to shake up her entire game.
CW: 8.6k | Stripper!AU, nightclub, angst, adult themes, rich man Steve, s3x work and many of the things that come with it
AN: Finally releasing the first chapter of my new baby <3 This IS a Steddie fic, it just starts with Stevie in this chapter. I’m so excited to take you all on this ride, I hope you like it as much as I do. Comments, reblogs etc are always appreciated. If you want to be tagged in chapters please comment or rb!
-Vi
- I have worked as an adult dancer before, and though I don’t work in the industry currently, I do pull from my own experiences in this writing. This is not true to everyone’s experience as an adult dancer, as it is still a work of fiction. I value SW and believe it’s a real job just like any other. Any negative comments toward SW will not be tolerated. -
| masterlist | ch 1. | ch 2 |
1: First Impressions
Them
Late summer always made her work harder at Satin in anticipation for the slow fall and winter months. But she’s been at this for almost two years now - she knows what she has to do.
It doesn’t take much to spot one in the crowd of people under the flashing lights and booming bass. Look around, keep her eyes fluttering, walk with her hips swaying, and approach her victim. They’re always so honored, as if she chose them for some reason other than to empty their pockets.
She knows how to play her cards. She’s the fresh faced one, the one they always wonder “what’s a girl like you doing in a place like this?” She’s too “clean”, too “pure” too “innocent” for the imagination to even comprehend.
“I just like to have fun,” she lies to them. Lying is easier than ever now. When she steps into this persona, she’s a different person completely.
“I’ll show you how to have fun,” the men will chide, their grabby hands reaching to touch her supple, exposed ass, their eyes unashamedly scanning her exposed body.
But she knows how to play this game. She smiles at them, a small giggle escaping her glossed lips. “If you wanna touch, we have to go somewhere else,” she’ll say, letting their imagination run wild. But she knows what she’ll offer, she knows what she’ll let them do, and what she won’t. Always leave them wanting more.
She’ll take their hand in hers, nails grazing their skin as she guides them to the back, heels hitting the floor in a cadence perfectly timed to the bass of whatever song is playing. She’ll look back at them with a glint in her eye, as if she’s asking “are you excited? are you ready?”
She takes their money and starts the timer, taking off her shoes and showing her white painted toes. They always love it, and it always wastes time as she slowly removes the high heels from her sore feet.
She steps closer to her victim, her own hands roaming her body before reaching out to touch his. “What’s your fantasy?” she’ll ask, her voice light and airy. A whisper of who she really is. “Do you like it slow? Deep? Fast? Hard?” She asks, moving her hands to squeeze her breasts.
The man is practically drooling. She has to hide her disgust as she sits on his lap, grinding down some on his obviously hard bulge. So easy, she thinks. So easy.
“I don’t even know what I’d do with a girl like you,” the victim says, his sweaty hands finally getting enough courage to grab her hips.
“I just want to throw you around,” he chuckles, his fingers digging into her hips. She throws her head back, letting her hands slowly slip the straps off her sad excuse of a top as she peeks at the timer. Stall, stall.
“You could throw me around all you want Daddy,” she plays, making the name roll off her tongue, as if that isn’t the name she calls every man that stares at her in this way. She lets the straps drop, unhooking the back, letting the thin material fall to the floor as her breasts hang free. Her hands fly to her chest, squeezing and rubbing just enough to harden her nipples, to continue to illusion of lust.
“Fuck,” the man groans, his hips undulating. She creates some distance, raising herself up to let her breasts sit in front of his sweaty face. His hands hesitantly move to grab her tits, squeezing lightly, scared. Good, she thinks, I want him scared.
He fondles and stares, she lets her mind drift elsewhere, anywhere else.
“Can I, Can I suck them?” The victim asks. She has to withhold a laugh.
“No, just touch,” She smiles. At least he asked, sometimes they don’t and she has to take matters into her own hands. He nods, respecting the boundary.
She switches positions, turning around so her ass is more fully on his ever present, jean clad, boner. Small, she thinks to herself.
She leans forward some as she grinds, making her small waist look even smaller. His hands find her hips. She continues to grin, bouncing some, but her legs are tired, sore from the long night of work.
“God,” the man groans, gripping her ass hard, making her flinch slightly. She breathes, lifting herself off the man and bending forward completely, creating enough distance, but the show to continue.
She gets on her hands and knees in front of him, ass to his face, her own eyes staring at the timer. She rocks her hips forward and back, letting a small, high pitched, fake whine fall from her red tinted lips. The man groans from behind her. “Fuck baby,” A hand slaps her ass, just a little too hard. She doesn’t want any marks on her.
She looks back over her shoulder, a look of warning and seduction. His hands rest back on his bulge, palming it as her own hand slides between her legs, fake nails glowing under the luminescent lights. She lets her finger wrap around the two pieces of tiny fabric covering her from the victim’s eyes.
She slides the materials to the right, giving him just the smallest glimpse of her waxed holes.
And the timer goes off.
She slowly stands, putting her top back on as she turns to face the man yet again. “Aw,” she fakes. “Our time is already up.” A fake pout draws itself on her lips.
He sighs, pulling out his wallet as she stops the timer. Her steps are light, shoes still off as she perches herself on his lap to accept the cash. He hands it to her, folded up, with a sigh, shaking his head as he stares at her more.
“You gonna miss me already?” She teases, eyelashes fluttering.
He chuckles. “Yeah sweetheart, fuck. Wish I could take you home with me.” He’s wishing but also suggesting. She knows it, they tend to suggest it often.
“Come in and play with me more often and then maybe we can figure something out,” she lies. It’s how she gets her regulars. Tell them they’ll only get more from her if they come see her at work more, spend more money on her, buy her more gifts, prove to her they’re serious.
She’s never left the club with a man other than the Benjamin’s in her money bag.
He smiles as she starts to stand up, now much shorter than him with her heels off. It tends to humanize her, when they realize how small she is when she’s not towering in the shoes. He stands and looks down at her big eyes.
“You here again Thursday?”
Cha-ching.
“Mmmhmm,” she smiles, her teeth taken between her lips.
“I’ll see you then sweetheart. Don’t forget,” he says, placing a $10 bill in the strap of her bra, just for fun, as he walks away from her and back to the main floor.
She waits for him to get out of sight before she sits herself on the booth and shoves the money in her sparkly red bag. She’s made a rule for herself about counting money - only once throughout the night (halfway, just to see if she’s met her goal), only in the dressing room, and then only again once she gets home.
Shoes back on, and she struts past the bar.
“Hey, where you going?” A man calls as she walks past. She’s seen him in here before. The other girls know him too. He never tips well.
“Gotta freshen up, I’ll be back though,” she winks, but as soon as she turns away from him her eyes roll.
She steps into the hallway leading to the back, it’s long and lit only by red LED lights. She’s had her fair share of anxiety attacks in this very hall. Sometimes as she walks down the dark hall is when it hits her that she’s really doing this - really using her body to make money. Then she feels the money bag on her side and shakes her head out of it.
Fuck it.
“Oh shit-“
“Fuck, so sorry honey,” the man says, his drink spilled between the two of them. “Oh no, did I spill on you?” He asks, a question of genuine concern as he looks her over.
She looks at him then. He doesn’t look familiar. She would remember someone like him coming in here. His hair is full and messy on his head as his hand runs through it. She sees the glint of a watch, an expensive looking one (she knows how to tell the difference now), adorning his wrist. He’s tall, but maybe only an inch taller than her with her heels on. What stops her though, other than the spilt drink between them, is his charmingly crooked smile.
“Uh- no, no just the shoes I think,” she says, shaking herself out of her haze as she takes him in.
He tuts his tongue, his lips pursing together as he reaches into the back of his black pants (slacks? She can’t tell). She notices then the muscles pressing against his white shirt, barely hidden by the fancy black jacket that’s rolled up to his forearms.
“Here,” he hands her a rolled up wad of cash. “Buy yourself a new pair, on me.”
She stutters, almost finding herself denying the offer. Almost. Until she remembers who she is, what she’s doing, what part she’s playing. She stands up straighter as she takes the cash.
“Well thank you…” she starts, leading for a name.
“Steve,” he smirks, as if he too suddenly remembers where he is, eyes raking up and down her exposed body.
“Thank you Mr. Steve,” she plays, letting her voice lilt upwards slightly as she leans in and kisses him lightly on the cheek, light enough to not exchange any of her lip gloss to his face.
She smiles at him again before turning to head to the dressing room.
His hand grabs her wrist lightly, stopping her.
“What’s your name?” His eyes are watching her face, something that’s rare for her in this building .
She finds herself swallowing hard again, his presence faltering her image. She lets herself check him out again, deciding if he deserves to know.
She smiles her most innocent, small smile. “Tommy.”
“Tommy,” he repeats, dropping her wrist.
“Steve,” she says as a goodbye, turning on her toes to finish her journey to the dressing room.
-
“Did creepy Nolan try and stop you for a dance?” Lucy asks, tits fully out as she changes into her third outfit of the night. Lucy was one of the first girls who ever took Tommy in at then club, and though they still don’t know each other’s real names, they watch out for each other - always.
Lucy works more regularly than Tommy, and does additional sex work on the side - phone operator, being a cam girl, and she has two or three regulars she talks about taking her out to dinner, and then maybe to a hotel afterwards.
She gets her bag. And the best part? She’s gay as can be.
Lucy’s the one who showed Tommy where to get the best deals on outfits, even bought her a new vibrator for her birthday. “Please send me a video of you using it for the love of God,” she begged. Tommy didn’t, but she did call her right after she finished using it for the first time, panting and elated.
Tommy takes off her own top as she opens her locker and searches through her bag for her second outfit for the rest of the night. “Yeah,” she replies. “Avoided him easily though, cheap ass.”
Lucy laughs as she throws back a shot that had been sitting next to her makeup bag. “Where’s your drink?”
Tommy sighs, they’ve had this conversation many times. “How many times have I told you that I don’t like to drink on the job? I’m way too much of a lightweight,” Tommy explains. She’s half telling the truth - she doesn’t like to drink on the job and she is a lightweight, but she also doesn’t like to drink ever. But explaining that part of her life story to the crowd in the club ( who is almost always drunk) is definitely not worth it.
“Yeah yeah yeah,” Lucy waves her off. “I dunno how you do this shit sober.”
“Me either,” Tommy sighs, tying the front of her tiny schoolgirl top across her chest. It barely covers her, with her boobs sticking out of the bottom and nipples poking through the sheer white fabric.
“Do you know that guy that was in the hall?” Tommy asks, his image flashing in her mind.
Lucy looks up at her through the mirror, adding yet another layer of purple eyeshadow to her eyelid (she swears it’s her best color). “Guy in the hall? Right now?”
“Yeah just as I came in, dressed really nice, said his name was Steve.” Tommy moves to fix her own makeup, patting her face down slightly as she freshens up her small black eyeliner, her shiny lip gloss, and the sparkles on the inner corner of her eyes.
“Steve…” Lucy thinks, spraying way too much perfume on her chest, neck and ankles. “Did he have like, nice hair?”
Tommy nods, watching Lucy through the mirror as she tries to ignore the little butterflies in her stomach as she recalls the short encounter with the man. “Dressed nice too.”
Lucy huffs a laugh before turning to stare at Tommy, makeup fully done now. Tommy stares back at her, confused. “What?” She laughs nervously.
Lucy’s mouth upturns into a perfectly practiced smirk, one usually only reserved for customers. “Steve Harrington?”
“I don’t know, didn’t get his last name-“
Lucy comes up to Tommy quickly, grabbing her by the shoulder as she looks at her intensely. “THE Steve Harrington? Millionaire Steve Harrington? Steve-can buy you your entire fucking life- Harrington? Doesn’t ring a bell?” Tommy shakes her head, having no idea who this man actually is.
“You need to do your research girly,” Lucy laughs, sitting back on her chair to put her black leather heeled boots on. “First of all, super fucking rich, like Daddy’s money that he inherited and invested and turned into his own money rich, objectively handsome.” Tommy tries to hide her chuckle. Yes, her entire job was to get money from men, but she hated being one of the girls that always flocks to the obviously rich men and ends up wasting her own time. “He used to come here a lot,” Lucy continues. “A generous tipper if he likes you on stage, but never really stuck to one girl, or even bought a private dance unless he was with friends or something.”
“Interesting…” Tommy says, contemplating this new information. So what if the guy was a millionaire? She gets rich clients in all the time. They’re usually just a lot less charming… attractive.
Lucy stands up, grabbing her money bag as a signal she’s heading out to the floor. “If anyone can get money from that man, it’s gonna be you. Get him,” she says, before landing a smack on Tommy’s ass.
“We’ll see, there’s a lot of people out there, maybe I’ll make my way to him, maybe not.” She changes her silver hoops for smaller gold ones, then pulls the teeny tiny plaid skirt up to her hips, letting her white lace peak out from under. The finishing touches being the cute white garter on her left thigh, and her signature, small but obvious, white and gold O-ring choker.
“K hottie, see ya out there,” Lucy says, smiling at her in the mirror as she walks out of the dressing room.
Tommy gives her a smile back before sitting in her own chair, catching her breath and spraying her own perfume all over herself. She feels the weight of her money bag and can guess that she’s about 3/4 of the way to her goal for the night, with a few hours to go. Maybe she can get rich boy Harrington to give her the time of day, make the rest of her shift easy. But she also doesn’t want to get caught wasting time around him, talking and talking, but no dancing or money giving to be had.
“Next on the stage, our very own, Tommy..” the DJ calls from the booth, both a signal to the patrons and Tommy that she needed to be ready to go dance.
She applies one more layer of lip gloss for good luck, then grabs her bag and heads back out to do what she does best - fantasize .
-
Tommy
It’s a rare day if you don’t want to get on stage and perform. There are some times, where the club is dead or the people watching haven’t tipped anyone, and don’t seem to be planning on tipping any time soon. But tonight was absolutely not one of those nights.
The club is decently packed, an average night with some familiar faces, and some new. As you prep your hands and legs with grip, you scan the crowd, and it takes all of two seconds before you spot him again - Steve Harrington. He’s sitting alone, except for the dancer who’s obviously trying to talk him up (and failing). You note where he’s sitting in your head before eyeing the rest of the crowd, spotting the man who you had just given a dance to before on the opposite side of the stage. Perfect.
“Now welcome to the stage, our very own, Tommy,” The DJ booms over the crowd. You take a small breath as you let the bass invade your veins and motivate you to walk forward, up the steps and onto the stage. You start slow, walking around the pole a few times, showing off your outfit, your hair, your fuck me eyes.
A random man comes to sit closer to the stage, along with the man you danced for earlier. You give them a small smile, an acknowledgement as they throw some ones on the stage to give you a start. You do another walk around the pole. This time letting your hips swing more, bending over just slightly enough to accentuate your ass.
And that’s when you make direct eye contact with him. Steve. Staring straight at you, at your face, not your body, unwavering as you move in front of him. Your breathing hitches a little at the sight, not used to feeling intimidated by any of these men. But something about the way he watches you is different. It’s intense, and you want nothing more than to put on a little show just for him.
But you have two men waiting at the other side of the stage.
You walk over to them slowly, running a hand through your hair as you decide to get in front of them at an angle that would be great for them and Steve behind you. You slowly move to get onto your knees, hands fondling your still clothed breasts as you smile at the men in front of you. “You’re beautiful,” one calls to you.
“Thank you,” you giggle, your character fully coming out as you let your hands find the floor of the stage and slide forward, putting you on your elbows and knees, ass up in the air and exposed as your tiny skirt does nothing to cover you up. You start to rock your hips back and forth to the music, biting your lip in a smile as you watch the men in front of you throw more cash on the stage. One stands up, the one from the dance before, and slips money between the waistband of where your skirt meets your hips.
You let it slide - you only let them touch you on stage like that if they’re sticking money in your clothes. “Thank you,” you smile at the familiar man.
“No- thank you baby,”He says, eyes blown out wide as he takes a sip from the tiny straw of his drink.
You peak over your shoulder to see Steve still watching you, now absolutely outright ignoring the girl sitting next to him, who seems to have also given up on the conversation. Despite his intimidating gaze, you hold eye contact as you rock your hips back then forward and slide down fully onto your tummy. His eyes only flicker to your body for a split second, a small moment of weakness, which makes you smile bigger at him. He notices.
To the slow rhythm of your first song, you flip to your back and plant your feet, letting yourself raise your hips in a wave up and down in sort of a bridge position as you fondle your breasts again. The men closest to you throw more money.
The song fades into the next one slowly, making you slowly stand back up and walk to the pole. This time you walk around it faster before gripping and pulling yourself upwards to climb, shins and forearms pressing against the pole, but your face reads nothing but beauty and grace. You climb up halfway before crossing your legs, tilting your hips and letting the insides of your thighs burn as you hold yourself up in a seated position on the spinning pole with no hands. You let your hands roam your body again as you spin high in the air - your favorite place to be. You slowly reach your hands to your front and untie the small bow on your white top, letting it come undone and letting your tits free as you lean backwards into an upside down leg hang.
This earns a few small cheers and more money thrown on stage. You come down slowly and land in a split at the bottom of the pole. You let your gaze flicker behind you -Steve is still watching, but hasn’t moved from his seat. No money thrown.
Asshole , you think as you decide to go back to the two men, now three as one joined, who are actually paying you for your entertainment. You crawl toward them on hands and knees before kneeling in front of them, then slowly leaning to the left on your elbow, kicking one leg up high and clacking it against your other heel as you bring it up at down, legs jiggling as you shake them. You roll over so they can see the same view but from the backside.
But now your view is directly on Steve, and he is watching you and your body, and licking his lips. You see the way his hand grips his cup as you clack your heels hard, making sure to get his attention. He chuckles at the action.
You turn your backside to the men in front of you, getting in a low doggy position, letting your tits and ass stick in their face, your mound of a cunt barely covered by white lace.
One man reaches up and puts more money in your little garter belt.
You barely acknowledge him as you watch Steve rise from his seat. Your heart quickens, his eyes never leaving yours as you continue to obscenely move your hips.
Fuck it. You reach a hand around your middle, pretending to let one finger glide over your clothed cunt, between your legs, making the men behind your groan and throw more money. You look over your shoulder at them, giving them a wink as you scoot a little closer, letting them give your ass a small slap with a wad of cash.
But when your gaze returns forward, Steve is sitting with his wallet on the raised counter of the stage, watching you with his hands crossed in front of his chest.
You hold in your scoff at the cockiness he presents. You stand again and make your way to the pole, but this time you let yourself perform for him.
The cold of the pole hits your back as you lean against it then slowly slide down until you’re in a squatted position, in your heels, your legs open wide. You grab your tits and let your head roll as you bounce up and down slowly to the beat. Steve takes his lip between his teeth as he watches you bounce, creating an image far too perfect for him to ignore.
But his wallet still remains unopened.
The song doesn’t have much longer - so you decide to play closer. You crawl toward him, giving your wide-eyed, innocent look as best as you can despite your naked appearance. You crawl up to the rail and kneel, letting your hands rest in front of you, pushing your tits together as you lean forward, drinking in the sight of the man in front of you. The look in his eyes is dark, so dark it makes you a little nervous,but you have to keep up the act.
“Hi again,” You smile at him batting your eyelashes.
“Hi honey,” he responds back to you, but his tone isn’t as playful as yours, and it sends a shiver down your spine.
“Do you like the show, mister Steve?” You ask, voice lilted as you play into your schoolgirl innocent act. Though, while you say it, you do lean sideways, sticking your ass out in front of him.
He watches you, but his eyes stay focused and trained, as if he’s holding back something. “You’re gorgeous,”he acknowledges, but still doesn’t answer the question. You hum at him, before leaning sideways more, giving him a side view of you in doggy.
Finally he opens his wallet.
“Go make your money with those men,” he mumbles, fishing around in the black leather wallet. “Then come talk to me,” he finishes, before tossing a small wad of cash in front of you. Before you can respond he stands up and walks back to the table he was sitting at previously.
You try not to gawk at the bills that were tossed in front of you, a mix of 100s and 20s folded neatly and now spread across your stage.
You look back up at him with a shaky breath, but he’s on his phone now, not watching you any longer.
That annoys you.
You stand up and head back to the pole to do a final few tricks, climbing, spinning, turning, dropping, going upside down and spreading yourself every which way. The small routine earns a few more men coming up to throw some money on the stage, but they’re all ones, and you know Steve just threw more than all of the money on stage from those men combined with one pull from his wallet.
Your last song fades and a bouncer comes up to help sweep the money into a pile on the side of the stage for you to collect while you put your clothes (if you can even call them that) back on. You look over at the men who had sat down first and blow them a kiss as you collect your cash, trying not to make the amount you just made feel too obvious- there’s always room for more.
Before you walk over to thank them, you peak at Steve, who’s watching you intently. He must have read your face, the question as to whether you should go to the other men or him first at the forefront of your brain, because he gestures for you to go to the other men with a small movement of his hand.
And that irritates you. And turns you on. Did he just give you silent permission to go talk to other men? You try to conceal your attitude, but it’s to no avail, Steve sees the way your face twists at his action, and it makes his eyebrows quirk up in challenge. But you ignore it, ignore him, ignore the way your pussy clenches at the sight, and walk to the other men. They are obviously excited to see you walking up to them again. Feeling ever so special that the beautiful woman they just doted on would come and thank them. You walk up to them with a smile. You plant yourself between the two of them on the leather couch around their small table and the one you’ve danced with before instantly lands his hand on your thigh, squeezing as if he’s allowed to do so.
You put your hand over his and smile at him with a little bit more fire behind it. “Thank you for the lovely tips,” you compliment them both, squeezing the hand under you and moving it from your thigh down to your knee.
But he moves his hand right back up to your thigh, blatantly ignoring your replacement and leaning in to whisper in your ear. “How much to let me take you home?”
You immediately move his hand off of you, onto the couch between you both this time and create some distance, trying not to be too harsh but definitely not allowing this to go any further. You can smell the alcohol on his breath, definitely stronger than wh it was when you gave him the dance less than an hour ago.
“My work stays in the club,” You say firmly. “But you can always get another private dance,” you suggest, a finger coming to trace a line on his shoulder.
He chuckles at you, obviously adjusting himself in his pants. You avoid the urge to roll your eyes. “How much for some extras in the dance?”
You can’t help it this time, you stand up immediately, shoving the other guy beside you slightly as you scoff at the man. “Get fucked,” you laugh in his face, throwing the two dollars he slipped into your garter belt back in his face.
You walk away before he can respond, not wanting to escalate the situation any further, but your blood was definitely starting to boil. “Fucking bitch!” You hear him call behind you, but your eyes just roll, it’s nothing new.
Unfortunately, it’s part of the territory- there’s always some asshole trying to get more, trying to touch you more, invade your space despite the boundaries you set, hell you’ve even seen men pull out their dicks while you were turned around. Though you wish it wasn’t true,you know the idea that they can get “Extras” like handjobs or blowjobs are because some girls do provide them with that despite club rules and all the regulations and cameras. It happens, but it doesn’t happen with you. Period.
You walk up to the bar, needing a moment of reprieve. “Hey JJ!” You call to the bartender, a beautiful girl with nice fake titties, and possibly fake lips (you could never tell, and would never ask). “‘Sup sweetie? Sprite?” You nod your head and peak over your shoulder at the two men who have now moved on to talking to another girl, hands roaming all over her body.
“Jaylyn, am I too stuck up to be a stripper?” You ask, sipping the sprite through the tiny straws (it’s always a good ploy to make it look like an alcoholic drink, that way men don’t try to pressure you more and more to get drunk with them).
Jaylyn laughs, her long braids falling down her back as she turns around. “Sweetie, no. You’re one of the few strippers I know that might actually make the most of her time here without losing herself,” she smiles, shaking a tin cup and ice. You purse your lips and sip from the sprite again, hoping the sugar and caffeine will wake you up a little more and shake off your bad mood.
“I sure hope so,” you sigh.
“Don’t waste precious time moping, T, go get money,” Jaylyn urges. Despite not dancing, JJ knows how to get men to throw money at her even from behind the bar. She’s beautiful and knows how to make the most of her time, that’s for sure. “He keeps looking at you,” she says, nodding her head to your left.
You already know who she’s talking about before letting your eyes wander to see him sitting on the leather couch, leaned back with his legs slightly spread, all alone on the big black couch.
It’s almost rude how attractive he looks. Your normal clientele isn’t necessarily unattractive, but it’s rare you ever get someone in who you actually find yourself looking at twice. It’s never the goal or priority of your job, hell more than half the girls at the club are in a relationship, it’s pretty understood that the point of the job is to make money - period. And how do you do it? Flirt and ooze sex, regardless of how smart, funny, ugly, stupid, gross, fat, skinny, or annoying the victim may be. The only thing that matters is the slippery little wallet in his pocket.
“Go,” Jaylyn says again, giving you a slight push on the shoulder to get you to move out of your thought-filled state.
You take a deep breath before turning around and putting your character back on, putting on the woman who is overly confident, cocky even, sexy, maybe a little innocent-looking and cheeky, flirty, and absolutely dripping with sex appeal.
You walk to him slowly, as if you have all the time in the world, watching him as he watches you.
He looks up at you from his seated position, only shifting slightly by the time you approach his table. “Can I sit here?” You ask, an innocent question, though you both seem to know it’s unnecessary.
He huffs a chuckle through his nose before sitting up a little straighter. “Yeah, you can sit,” He says, his voice low but playful.
The way he says it honestly makes your skin tingle, like he can see right through you. It’s as if he’s saying ‘Okay, I’ll play your little game’. When you sit next to him, you feel less exposed than usual, like he’s looking at you, but not just looking at your body or picturing what you look like with your mouth full.
He looks at you as if you’re a real person.
“Tommy,” he starts, swirling the straw in his half drank cup.
“Steve,” you reply, turning so your legs are crossed, your chest leaned slightly more forward toward him, leaving distance but not a whole lot.
“Dropped the ‘Mr’?” He asks, a glint in his eyes.
“Oh,” you’re surprised. “Is that what you like?” You ask, leaning more into whatever game he’s unfolding in front of you.
He lets his eyes turn to yours now, meeting your flirty expression with his own, dark brown eyes reflecting the purple and red hues of the club. His face is painted with small freckles, each placed perfectly, as if he himself was painted by a master. And his cologne? Divine. Manly, expensive, but not overbearing.
His eyes drop quickly to your chest before coming back up to find yours. You bite back a smile. “I like a lot of things honey,” he says, bringing his cup to his lips.
You hum a response, letting your hand start to dance closer to his leg, not yet touching, but getting there. “Indulge me,” You say, your volume dropping, making the conversation private despite being in the loud, full room. “Maybe I can make some of those things happen,” you tease.
Steve puts his drink down and turns his body to face yours more, chest toward you, arms crossed, making his biceps pop under his shirt. “You’re good at this,” he comments.
You’re taken aback slightly. He’s not playing. “Good at what Mister?” You ask, still letting your flirty tone control your side of the situation. Innocent and dumb, innocent and dumb.
“This job. You’re good at it.”
You don’t particularly know how to respond right away, slightly caught off guard.
“The schoolgirl outfit is a great touch too,” he comments. You blush. You actually blush at his compliment.
“Most men like it,” you say before thinking. If you could clap your hand over your mouth you would, or maybe press a rewind button.
He smiles at you then, seeing that you fumbled, seeing that you let the act drop for just a second, even if by accident. “I can understand why,” he says, his hand coming to touch the small frilly sleeve that hangs off of your shoulder. His fingers lightly graze the material, and you find yourself holding your breath at his touch.
It’s soft, gentle, barely there. If you weren’t sitting so close, and so horribly aware of every move he was making, you may not have even noticed he did it.
“Why the name ‘Tommy’?”
No one’s ever asked you. It breaks the illusion, the fantasy, to act like Tommy isn’t your real name, that you aren’t just a fantasy person. Your eyes widen as his hand goes back to being around the back of the couch. You debate telling him.
“You don’t have to tell me your real name, it’s okay honey,” he says, sensing your fear. “I was just curious why you chose that name, I’ve never heard it before.”
The way he talks makes it seem like he’s in strip clubs every night of his life. Maybe he is. Maybe that’s why he’s so confident, the fantasy has died for him. Or maybe he’s killed it for himself.
“Tommy,” you say, your voice leaning more toward your regular octave, a little lower, a little raspier.
“Tommy, because I like to play with the boys,” you say, chuckling softly at your own words. You’ve never said it out loud, and it sounds a little ridiculous. “And I had never heard it at a club before either.”
You’re cheeks are red and you find yourself wanting to hide away some at your admission. It feels a little too vulnerable for the setting, which is a place you rarely find yourself in while working.
“You like to play with the boys,” Steve repeats, smiling at you. You avoid his gaze, though you can feel it on you. You don’t know what it is about him that makes you so nervous. Maybe it’s his looks, or the fact that you know he has a lot of money. But you’ve encountered both of those things before in customers and regular men alike, and they’ve rarely ever made you feel so flustered, so vulnerable so quickly.
“Hey,” Steve whispers, interrupting your thoughts. He places a finger under your chin, guiding your head up to look at him instead of at your hands on the couch. You freeze under his touch, despite the fire it ignites in you. You never let customers touch you on the floor like that.
“It’s okay honey,” he smiles at you, that crooked charming grin. The way he calls you ‘honey’ makes you feel small, like he’s much older than he is and is talking down to you. “You can play with the boys all you want,” he releases his finger from your chin.
“Okay?” He checks in, his eyes scanning yours.
You inhale a shaky breath. “Okay,” you repeat. But then it hits you again, why is he seeming to give you permission to do your job?
And why are you sitting here, talking to him, making no money?
Back to work. “Are you going to let me play with you?” You ask, a brave finger coming up to trace his arm on the couch. He watches your hand, and bites his lip. You think you may have gotten him
But his chest falls and he moves his arm from the couch into his lap. “Maybe later,” he says.
Rejection.
Abort.
“Well then I’ll check in on you later,” you smile, moving to get up from your seat. This happens often, some guy says he doesn’t want a dance, isn’t offering money, etc. Don’t waste your time. Take the rejection and move on to the next, try and come back later.
You ignore the attraction in your core that makes you want to sit and stay with him, try and convince him to buy a private with you, but it would go against how this job works, how you have to work to pay your bills.
He doesn’t argue with you when you stand up, and it does hurt your ego a little bit. But as you scan the club, you know there are plenty of other customers willing to go fix that for you.
“Tommy,” Steve says as you’re about to walk away. You stop and turn to him, trying to hold back your frustration by giving him a cute tilt of the head in question.
“Be safe,” he says, holding his drink up to you in cheers.
“Of course, Mr. Steve,” you say, your tone mocking, but you see the way his eyes light up, and it makes your insides twist. You sip on your Sprite as you turn away from him and look for someone who’s sitting without a girl already.
Back to normal.
-
You get two dances, nothing too crazy. The tips are decent, the guys aren’t too gross, and they left you alone once you said bye to them, which is really all you could ask for. One even left the club. Beautiful.
By this time, the club closes soon and most of the patrons have either been there for a while and you’ve already danced with or talked to, or are talking to other girls. You find yourself at the bar again, getting a water this time from JJ to hydrate after dancing, and scanning the crowd.
In the duller moments of the job, the in between moments, the adrenaline does fade some and it makes it hard to want to keep going. You could easily call it a night at this point, clock out, count your money and go home. But you like to stay until closing unless something crazy happens because you never know who could be in there to make you more money
And as you look into the club again, you see that maybe the last opportunity you’ll get for the night is still sitting by himself, lazily watching the girl on stage (Paris) and letting his eyes wander the club.
You find yourself walking over to Steve again, but this time you’re much more tired. Your feet are starting to hurt and your tolerance for irritating men is coming closer and closer to zero. Your facade is fading, letting your real self show through the cracks.
You drop next to him on the couch much less prettily than you had before, letting your head rest back on the seat behind you, and letting your eyes close for a quick second. Steve watches you closely. “Are you back because it’s ‘later’ now?” Steve asks, a playful tone to his voice.
You laugh. “Caught me,” you say, not wanting to play hardball with him anymore. You may or may not make any more money tonight and you’ve resigned to that, might as well have fun.
“Saw you go for a few dances,” he says. So he’s been watching.
“Make any money?”
You nod slowly. “Made some money,” you say. ”But could always make more,” you smirk at him, raising your eyebrows a little. He laughs.
“Always,” he agrees. He understands the hustle, maybe more than you even know.
“Gonna make my dreams come true and let me dance with you Mister?” You tease, batting your eyelashes up at him. You’re only half kidding, half truly asking if he’s going to be wasting the rest of your time or not. You don’t have it in you to sit and talk for another 45 minutes to make no money. Might as well just rip the band-aid off now.
“Already dreaming of me?” He jokes, leaning in to touch your sleeve again. You barely feel it again, but you know it’s there. You don’t know why he does it, but it feels like a power play that you’re not sure how to interpret.
“Oh of course,” you tease again. You sit up and lean forward, resuming your position from before, letting your chest be easier to see as you lean toward him on the couch, letting your gaze look up from slightly below where he’s seated. “Dreaming of being whatever you want me to be,” you play, biting your lip and letting your hands inch closer to where his legs sit against the seat.
He tuts his tongue at your response. He turns closer to you, making your faces become close, very close. Not close enough for lips to touch, or to smell his breath, but close enough to feel the pressure rise between you two, for the possibility to linger in the space between.
“I want you to be exactly who you are,” he admits.
Your heart pounds in your chest as he looks at you, his brown eyes scanning your face from your wide eyes, your blushed cheeks, your painted lips, down to the choker around your throat.
You’re lost for words, the response getting lodged in your throat. He changes the air between you two so fast it’s hard to keep up, to understand what he’s trying to get out of you.
“You always wear the choker?” He asks, nodding his head toward the white around your neck.
You nod, biting your lip as you do so, unsure of why he would ask that question as a follow-up to his previous one.
“Can i..” he asks, his hand coming to inch toward the fabric around your neck. You know he’s asking to touch it but you’re not sure to what extent. You don’t respond right away, never letting anyone touch your neck while at work.
“Yes or no honey? Be a big girl, use your words,” he patronizes you. Your eyebrows knit together at his words, and despite your confusion, the way he talks to you goes straight to your core.
“Yes,” you answer, a slight attitude to it as you glare your eyes at him for his comment.
He lets his finger lightly trace the fabric around your neck. It’s not extremely expensive, but it’s not cheap either. You’ve had the choker ever since you started working as a dancer, and you wear it nearly every shift. It’s like a comfort item for you at this point, something you can tug on and play with when you’re nervous.
You find yourself moving to give him more access to your neck as his eyes flicker from your face to the fabric, Gauging your reaction to his touch. Your heart is pounding both from a slight fear and adrenaline at having the stranger touch your neck in such a way. You know he wouldn’t be able to truly do anything to you, with bouncers and security all around, but it’s still a little crazy to be allowing him to do it at all.
And, honestly, you hate how much it’s turning you on. The mix of fear, adrenaline, the smell of his cologne and his own scent, the way his fingers drift to the side of your neck slightly off of the fabric…it all makes your sober brain go a little hazy.
Steve can tell. He smiles.
He lets his finger trace to the front of the choker, where the O ring sits prettily on your throat. He wraps his finger around it and gives it the softest tug, pulling you closer to him only by an inch.
He chuckles when you move without resistance to the pull. Your own eyes widen.
“I love the choker,” he says, releasing you from his grip and leaning back. “I think you’d look even better in a collar.”
Before you can respond he pulls out his wallet, leaving you speechless as he puts what looks to be $1000 on the table in front of you.
You look at him amazed, unsure and quite honestly shocked at what just happened.
“Take this and go home,” he says,pushing the money toward you. You stutter out a few sounds, but no full words as you pick up the cash in front of you, staring at it and not putting it away, feeling like it’s some joke he’s pulling.
“But-“ you start.
“Take the money and go home,” he repeats, motioning his head for you to put the money away before other people see it. You do so slowly, folding the money and stuffing it into your bag.
“Th-thank you,” you stutter, feeling completely unworthy of that much money after not giving him a dance or anything at all other than short conversations.
“When do you work next?” He asks, starting to collect his things and stand up himself. He waits for you to follow his actions, having you stand up next to him.
“Uh, Thursday,” you say, still in shock. He moves his hand to your lower back, walking with you toward the hallway you first met in, leading to the dressing room. Everywhere he touches feels like it’s on fire and it’s absolutely infuriating and enticing all at once. You feel like your head is spinning from what happened in the last few moments, from the conversation, the choker, the money…
Steve stops once you reach the front of the hallway and you turn to face him, eyes wide as you wait for him to say something. “I’ll see you Thursday,” he smiles before turning you back around and giving you a slight nudge to head toward the dressing room in the back, his signal for you to get changed and go home.
You look back over your shoulder at him as he watches you walk down the hall. His hands sit in his pockets as his head dips slightly, looking at his shoes. You think it might be one of the only times his head has been dipped the whole night, except for when he spilled on your shoes.
He looks back up and gives you a quick nod before turning around, running a hand through his hair and heading toward the door. You make it into the locker room in a complete daze, your money bag feeling heavier than it has in a long time, and you know it’s not all just single dollar bills.
As you walk through the door, you’re met with a wide-eyed Lucy.
“I saw that,” she says her mouth open as her eyes flick from your face, to your choker, to your bag, and back up.
You don’t say anything, having no idea what to say at all as you make your way to your chair and start taking off your shoes. Lucy comes up behind you and looks at you through the mirror, already in her sweats and jacket for the night.
“Babe,” she says, her hands shaking your shoulder in excitement. Her face was flushed out both from the drinking and from the buzz of watching you earn a fuck ton of money from just sitting with someone. Someone very, very wealthy. “What the fuck just happened?” She asks, laughing as she takes in your stunned expression
You look up at her through the mirror, shaking your head slightly as you recount what had happened just in the last few hours since you had been in the dressing room before.
You barely even knew his name, didn’t even give him a dance, and he’s coming back Thursday.
Thursday.
“I have no idea.”
-
If you want to be tagged please say so in the comments or reblogs! I love the feedback and can’t wait to share more of this story
summary: based on a request for secret admirer steve with a shy reader. you’ve had a crush on steve for a while, little did you know he felt the same. he was your secret admirer as well as your science partner, though you only knew one of those things.
word count: 10.5k
warnings: fluff, smut, like a tiny bit of angst if you squint. a world where steve and nancy never dated.
a/n: hi! idk why this ended up being so long but i hope you guys like it!! sorry it took forever to get done but i got like super carried away with this request, but here she is in all her glory!!!
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You never expected anyone to notice you. Certainly not at school. You were the kind of person that remained in the background, an extra in a life full of main and supporting characters. You were constantly reading books, getting lost in other worlds and people with lives far more exciting than yours.
You stuck close to your tiny group of friends, but even then, you stayed on the quiet side. Though you loved them, you felt the most at peace when you were in your room. Alone and worry free. When you were alone, you didn’t have to focus on what you were saying or what others thought, it was just you and your thoughts. Just how you liked it.
There was one person, however, who did notice you. The only thing is, you didn’t know who that was. You never expected secret admirers to be a real thing, seeing them in movies and reading about such things. But, you had one of your own. You couldn’t wrap your head around the idea of someone liking you, but staying anonymous about it.
A new school day usually means a new note in your locker. New words to think about the rest of the day. They were always sweet, leaving you standing in the hall with heated cheeks and butterflies in your stomach.
It was almost pathetic, the way you had a crush on whoever this was. Because nobody had ever said things like this to you. Complimenting you on small things like what necklace you were wearing or how you did your hair. Using words like ‘pretty’ and ‘beautiful’ to describe you. How could you not fall for that?
You had only told one of your friends, your best friend, about the notes, not wanting to make a big deal out of it around people. She was walking up to your locker like she always did in the mornings, raising her eyebrows up and down suggestively at you.
“Hey! Any notes yet?”
You laughed at her eagerness, “Robin, you know I always get them after Johnson’s class.”
Robin had been your best friend since you started high school. You met in your first period freshman year and had become inseparable ever since. Her band-geek nature complimented your bookworm self perfectly.
“Ohhh right. I forgot this secret admirer of yours has a schedule.”
“I think they’re in that class.”
“You have theories now? Oh my gosh! We are totally gonna find out who this is soon!”
“Robin, stop it! I'm going to class.”
“You know I'm right!” She called as she walked away from you. You actually didn’t know it then, but she really was right about finding out who exactly was leaving you these notes.
You walked into your class and sat in your spot, in the back row. It’s where you sat in every class. The first half of your day went by as normal, taking notes, keeping your head down, and getting as much work done as possible.
Before you knew it, it was lunchtime and you made your way to the cafeteria, spotting Robin at your usual table. Your other two friends weren’t having lunch with you today as they both had clubs to attend, leaving you and your best friend to yourselves.
“How were your morning classes, Robs?” You spoke as you sat down across from her, placing your tray on the table.
“You know, same old, same old. Harrington came into Click’s class late this morning, like always.”
“Bagel and everything?”
“Yes! God, he’s infuriating.”
“I don’t know, I think he seems nice.”
“Nice? Have you seen who he hangs around?”
“Well yeah but when they try to say stuff to me he always stops them. He’s not the same as Tommy H. or Carol.”
She gasped, “no way! You like him!”
“What are you talking about? I’ve barely ever spoken to him. He’s just in some of my classes, is all.”
“Sure it is…”
“Robs, stop! Can we just talk about something else?”
She changed the subject right away. You loved that about Robin. How she knew when to stop teasing or prodding and to drop something. She was your best friend for a reason, after all.
Time went by quickly as you chatted away, and as you finished up your food, the bell rang signaling the end of lunch.
“You better tell me what the note says today!” Robin said as you put your trays away.
“Yeah, yeah. Bye, Robin.”
Your next class was with Mrs. Johnson. Science. It wasn’t your favorite class, but it wasn’t your least favorite either. But, you always looked forward to it being over and finding a note in your locker. They always made your day better, no matter what.
You didn’t know what you were doing in class today, but Mrs. Johnson had mentioned something about a project. As you sat down in your usual seat, you glanced at the board. Written in big letters, it said, ‘partner projects’ and you wanted to hide under your desk then and there. You wished Robin was in this class, that way you wouldn’t even have to worry.
Right when the bell rang to announce the beginning of the class, Steve Harrington came in looking a little out of breath, like he was trying to beat the bell. As he took his seat, and you watched, Mrs. Johnson started talking about the project.
“This time you guys will not be choosing your partners, I will be doing that for you. I want to mix things up and force you to interact with each other, and no, I won’t change my mind about it.”
You weren’t opposed to her choosing. If she didn’t find a partner for you, you’d just end up working by yourself like usual. Maybe this way you could get out of your shell, just a little.
Mrs. Johnson was calling out names in pairs, and you watched your classmates looking around at their partners with small smiles, some fake, some shy, some happy with the outcome of their group. Then, she was calling your name.
“Y/n, you’ll be with Steve…”
She kept reading names but you weren’t focusing on that. Partnered with Steve Harrington? You were done for. He was always kind to you, defending you when his friends were being jerks—which they always were. You couldn’t help but feel nervous around him, he was sweet and so pretty. So what if you had a (not so) small crush on him? Nothing would ever happen anyways.
When Steve heard your names called together, he was beaming. He knew you were shy by nature, that you didn’t really talk to people you didn’t know, but he was hoping to become someone you’d talk to. Someone who could get you to open up and be around without worrying. Ever since he noticed you reading by yourself during free period, he knew he wanted to know you. To be known, really known, by you.
He smiled at you and gathered his things, moving over to the now empty desk next to yours and pushing it so the two tables were together. You gave him a shy smile in return, tucking your hair behind your ears just for something to do with your hands.
“Hi Steve.” You spoke quietly, so quiet he almost didn’t hear you, but he was so glad he did. He thought you were so cute, and he could tell you were trying. This was going to be the best project ever.
“Hi back!”
You smiled at him, glad he was talking to you in this soft way that made you feel welcome. Like he really wanted to talk to you.
“So, listen y/n, I’m not the best at science, but I swear I’ll try my best. You might have to help me along the way, though.”
“That’s okay. What are partners for, right?”
“This is gonna be great, I know it! You and me, we’re gonna make a great team. Unstoppable even.”
Before you could reply, Mrs. Johnson was beginning to give instructions for the project, and you started taking notes so you wouldn’t forget anything. Steve was listening, but his eyes were on you and the way you leaned closer to your paper when you wrote. The way your tongue poked out between your lips the tiniest bit in focus.
When the instructions were over with, the class got to work. Mostly, though, people would just talk amongst each other, leaving the work for later.
“I was thinking maybe you could come over today after school? Get a head start on this project?”
You wanted to say yes right away. Of course you wanted to. But you were nervous. Alone with none other than Steve Harrington, what a trip that would be.
“Are you sure? Your parents wouldn’t mind?”
“Don’t really have to worry about them, um, they aren’t around much so. It’s basically my house. But hey, if you’d rather meet up at the library that works too.”
He knew you were a nervous person, shy by nature, and he didn’t want to scare you off. No, that was the last thing he wanted to do. So, he offered a middle ground. One you appreciated so much.
“That’d be great, Steve. I don’t have a car, though.”
“That’s alright! I can drive you. We can meet up in the parking lot. Is that okay?”
More than okay. He was so sweet to you, you didn’t understand why on earth he was friends with people like Tommy and Carol. They didn’t deserve a friend like him.
“That’s really nice of you.”
“It’s no problem at all, I swear.”
“Okay. Yeah, I’ll meet you then.”
“Perfect! It’s gonna be great, I’m telling you.”
Then, the bell was ringing. You always took a bit more time than everyone else to get out of class; you had to put your things away the same way every time. You also liked waiting a bit before walking to your locker and then your next class, waiting until the halls were a bit emptier.
As you made your way to your locker, your stomach was fluttering. Excited to see what your special note would say today. Excited about seeing that special handwriting and that special sign off with a small heart. Every single time.
You unlocked your locker and spotted the paper right away. It was always the same kind of paper, lined and slightly crumpled from being shoved into your locker. You smiled softly at the sight of it, looking around before reaching in and reading it.
‘You look pretty today. You do every day, but I think today is extra special! -S <3’
You always assumed the ‘S’ stood for ‘secret admirer,’ because that just made sense. As you read the note and saw the heart drawn the same way it always was, you felt your cheeks heating up, your head ducking down bashfully. You felt silly for liking these notes so much, for keeping them all in a small pile at the back of your locker. Like they were items that you’d always need.
You didn’t notice Steve looking at you, but he was. He liked to see your reactions to the small notes he left you. He had a crush on you for ages, but could see you were someone who had to warm up to others. In an attempt not to scare you away, he decided that starting with notes was a great way to go. It was convenient that his first initial was also what was at the front of the term ‘secret admirer.’ He really lucked out on that one.
He loved seeing you read his notes, seeing the way you’d blush at his words. Even if you didn’t know they were his, you would at some point. He felt so special every time you tucked away the notes into your locker rather than tossing it in the trash. Now that you were partners and were meeting up after school, he had a real chance to tell you the truth. But he couldn’t lie, he was nervous too.
Would you think he was creepy for writing to you? For being anonymous and acting as if he was innocent in the matter? Well, it was too late now. He was already in too deep. Caught up in you and who you were. A sweet person with a gentle soul who deserved to know how pretty and beautiful she was.
Once the next bell rang, you closed your locker and made your way to your next class. Steve did the same.
Your next class was with Robin, so you had the chance to freak out and force her to listen to you. You sat down in your seat next to hers, and she wasted no time.
“So what did it say today?”
“Shhh! Robin! Um just that I looked pretty, like more than usual.”
“Awww that’s cute! I can see you trying not to smile thinking about it!”
“Anyways. I’m meeting Steve after school because we’re science partners and I’m kinda freaking out and I need you to tell me it’ll be fine.”
“No way! Steve Harrington? Oh this is something straight out of a rom com. Shy girl partnered with super popular guy.”
“Robs! Not helping!”
“Sorry, okay. Listen it’ll be fine, you’re gonna talk to him and like you said, he’s nice to you! Nothing to freak out about.”
“Yeah, you’re right.” You weren’t actually convinced, but class was starting and you were forced to stop chatting and pay attention.
The rest of the day, you and Steve were both looking forward to meeting at the library, even if it was for science class. The nerves and jitters as well as excitement and giddy feelings were all mutual. But, neither of you knew that.
The end of the day came and you quickly made your way to the parking lot, not wanting to make Steve wait for you too long. When you got outside, you saw him leaning against his car door, talking to none other than Tommy and Carol. Great.
You walked up to Steve’s car, keeping your head down and trying your best to avoid the gazes of Steve’s friends. Unfortunately, that didn’t work.
“Look who it is! Are you lost?” Tommy faked concern, making you feel so out of place you wanted to shrink back into the ground.
“She must be, she can’t even speak!” Carol added on.
“Guys, seriously? Why do you always have to be such assholes?” Steve was quick to defend you, like he always did, but his words were harsher this time. More firm in his will to get them to stop.
“Geez, you’ve gotten boring, Harrington.”
With that, they walked away, leaving you and Steve alone standing by his car. He unlocked it and walked over to the passenger side, opening the door for you and ushering you in. A gentleman, really. He jogged around to the driver’s side and got in. Starting the car and driving away. It was silent for a bit, but Steve eventually spoke up.
“I’m really sorry about them. I don’t even know why I hang out with them, honestly. But don’t listen to them, okay? I'm glad we’re partners.”
“It’s okay. Um, thanks for defending me.”
“It’s not okay! I guess I only really hang around them ‘cause I don’t have other friends. I don’t even like them, really. They’re so mean.”
“You could hang out with me. I mean, only if you want to.”
You regretted the words as soon as they left your mouth. Why would he want to hang out with you of all people? You really just embarrassed yourself not even five minutes into the drive.
“I might take you up on that, actually.”
Oh. Wow. Maybe that was a good thing to say after all. You couldn’t really believe that he’d actually want to be around you without being obligated. But he sounded genuine, and glad. Like the offer really meant a lot to him. It did, but you didn’t know that for sure.
“Okay, cool.” You didn’t have a better reply, too shocked and excited by his acceptance of you offer.
“Yeah, cool.”
The rest of the car ride went by quietly, your leg bouncing up and down anxiously, gazing out the window to try and calm your mind. You didn’t know how to talk to him. Scared you’d say something weird or dumb and he’d stop being so nice to you. It was irrational, you knew that, but you couldn’t help your thoughts.
Steve was focusing on the road, his hands gripping the steering wheel tighter than usual because of his nerves. He wanted you to like him so badly. He was trying his best to be calm and collected around you, when in reality, he couldn’t think straight. Your perfume was filling his senses, sweet just like you.
Next thing you knew you were at the library, Steve pulling in and parking the car. You were excited to go inside, to start the project. Mostly because it gave you something to talk about, a subject you didn’t have to overthink. You were still nervous though. Because this was Steve Harrington, local heartthrob and the prettiest boy you’d ever seen. No matter how sweet he was to you, you couldn’t help but feel flustered around him.
He shut the car off and got out, jogging around to your side so he could open the door for you once again. You smiled at his action, his eagerness to be a classic gentleman around you. It was really, really cute.
As you got out of the car, he grabbed your bags from the backseat. You tried to grab yours from him but he pulled it away from you, shaking his head with a cheeky grin on his face.
“Nope, I got the bags. Keep walking!”
You giggled at him, and he wanted to make you do it again. To hear the sound over and over because it was so light, so airy. Like the best kind of cotton candy, sweet and pink and amazing every time.
Just like he did with the car, he opened the door to the library for you, even while holding both bags. “After you, m’lady.”
“Why thank you!” You walked into the library with a smile on your face. Why’d he have to be so nice? This crush you had on him was not going to end well and you knew it. But, you couldn’t help it.
“Y/n! Hi sweetie! And who’s this?” The librarian greeted you, excited to see one of her favorite customers.
“Hi. Um, this is Steve.”
“Hi! Nice to meet you. We’re doing a science project.” Steve spoke brightly, like he had known her for longer than thirty seconds. It was impressive, the way he could be so bright around a total stranger. You think maybe he could help you be that way, too.
“I see. You kids have fun with that! Won’t even know I’m here.”
Steve was walking ahead of you, and the librarian gave you a thumbs up when he wasn’t looking, like she knew something you didn’t. You rolled your eyes playfully and caught up to Steve. The two of you sat at a table close to the window, light seeping in and casting shadows across your faces.
“So what do you wanna do first?”
He was letting you take the lead, knowing that you liked to do things a certain way and not wanting to disrupt that for you. The last thing he wanted to do was mess up your routine. He was attentive like that. All of his observing you fondly has taught him plenty.
“Um, we could look at the outline, maybe?”
“Sure thing, boss!”
“Boss?”
“Oh yeah. You’re definitely in charge here.”
“Me?” You don’t know why that surprised you so much. You suppose it could be because you’re used to being talked over in group settings. But he somehow knew that you liked to take the lead with schoolwork, even if it was in your own subdued and quiet way.
“C’mon let’s get started! Get our science on!”
“You sound really excited about doing science, Steve.”
“Correction, I’m excited to do science with you. I told you, we’re gonna make a great team.”
He had a way of saying things that made them feel real, genuine. A way of talking that left you with heated cheeks constantly and words imprinted in your head. You thought about your secret admirer and their words. You felt similar about them and Steve. Both of them gave you the same feeling, and you didn’t know what to make of that. There was absolutely no way it was Steve. Right?
Robin was going to have a field day with this.
The project carried on smoothly, conversation flowing along with it. You and Steve ended up getting a lot done, and you were happy that he was able to focus on the work and keep up his playful demeanor at the same time.
Hours sped by as you worked, never even glancing at the clock because you didn’t feel the need to. You didn’t even want to go home, you wanted to stay there in the secluded library with Steve forever. It was peaceful, and it was calm. It was a blooming friendship and an ever-growing crush. Small smiles and shared laughs, a brush of hands and clammy palms.
Before you knew it, it was time for you to get home, finally checking your watch and gasping at the time.
“Shit, I gotta get home.”
“She cusses!” He felt like you were letting go around him, like you were becoming more comfortable in his company. It was all he ever wanted, and he hoped that one day he’d get you to be completely yourself with him. For the first time, he really felt like it was possible.
“My mom’s gonna kill me if I’m late.” You were packing your things as quickly as possible, trying to do the math in your head of how long your walk would take. Figuring out what excuse you’d give your mom.
“Hey, it’s okay. I’ll drive you home, no problem. Breathe.” He could see the wheels turning in your head, the panic growing in your chest at the thought of being late. He wanted nothing more than to bring you peace.
“You sure?”
“Of course I am. Like I said, my parents aren’t even home so.. I can be as late as I want. C’mon.”
You didn’t have time to reply before he was walking out of the library, waving goodbye at the librarian and holding the door open for you once again. You rushed over to his car and got in, hands shaking slightly in your lap. You hated being late, and you hated it when your mom was mad.
Steve started to drive, following your quiet directions to your house. He noticed your hands shaking in your lap, and reached over with one of his to hold them. He didn’t know what brought him to do that, to hold your hands in his. But he was glad he did it, because you grasped his hand in one of yours tightly.
You were holding Steve’s hand. What the hell was happening? This was something you were going to think about later. But, right now you were too focused on getting home before your curfew to concentrate on how his hand felt in yours. On the way he wordlessly let you grip his hand because he knew it would help. Why was he so kind to you? Of all people, he decided to be at his softest when you were with him, like his ‘King Steve’ persona—that really wasn’t him at all—melted away.
He pulled over on the street next to your house, telling you softly you’d arrived.
“Thank you so much, Steve. Sorry for, um, freaking out.”
“No worries. Happens to us all. I’ll see you tomorrow, yeah?”
“Yeah. Bye, Steve.”
Then, you got out of the car, running up to your door and going inside. Luckily, you had a minute to spare before your curfew was up, and you let out a breath of relief before going up to your room and collapsing on the bed.
Steve waited by the curb to make sure you got in okay, waiting until your bedroom light turned on before pulling away and heading back home to a lonely, empty house. He found himself wishing you were still with him.
When he got home he couldn’t stop his mind from drifting to you. To your eyes and how they crinkled just slightly in the corners when you smiled. To your laugh and how it felt like a reward every time he got one out of you. To all things you.
For once he wasn’t thinking about how empty his house was or the constant lack of his parents being around. He wasn’t concerned about his asshole friends or what people at school thought of him.
He was only thinking about you.
The next day at school, Steve was completely unfocused—more so than usual. He was too busy looking forward to Johnson’s class because he would get to see you. How pathetic is that? He couldn’t even listen in any class because of how he felt about you.
You weren’t much different than him. You still took your notes, but you found yourself zoning out writing mid-sentence, ending up with messy letters and crooked lines. You barely spoke a word during lunch, mind wandering to how your next class was going to go. Robin took notice, but she decided she’d interrogate you during your shared class.
You ate your food slowly, hoping the time would move quicker if you kept yourself occupied. You were waiting impatiently for the bell to ring, to go to your stupid science crush and see the boy you had a stupid crush on.
Your hopes were answered, as if the bell could read your thoughts. The loud ring cut through the cafeteria and you shot out of your seat and headed to class. There was an added pep in your step, your pace faster than usual. It was crazy, how you wanted to get to class for the sole purpose of seeing Steve.
As you walked in, you noticed that he was already sitting at the desk next to yours. Steve perked up when you came in, smiling brightly at you and waving. You have a small wave back, making your way to the back of the class and sitting down.
“Hi! I hope it’s not weird I’m sitting here. Figured it’d be easier since we’re partners and all.” He sounded nervous, which was surprising to you. You never imagined Steve Harrington as one to get nervous. Certainly not around you.
“It’s not weird at all, Steve.”
“Okay, great.”
Then it was quiet between you two. You had felt comfort in silence many times, but this was different. It was full of nerves and overthinking. For once, you wanted to speak up first.
“Thanks again for driving me last night.”
“No sweat. Did I get you home on time?”
“Had a minute to spare.”
“See! Perfect team.”
You gave him one of your small laughs at that, and he couldn’t stop looking at you. Not when the class bell rang and you turned away to get your stuff. Not when your teacher started talking to the class. He never thought he would feel this way about another person; like he couldn’t even take his eyes off of her or else she’d disappear. But he felt that way, in that moment, with you.
He was snapped out of it when you brought up the project now that Mrs. Johnson was done talking.
“So, do you wanna work after school again today?”
“What? Oh! Yeah, sure.”
“Um. I was thinking maybe you could just come to my house, that way we don’t have to worry about me being late again. It’s okay if you don’t want to, though.”
“Sounds great, y/n. I’ll drive us, okay?”
“Okay,” you’d never had anyone over to your house except Robin, and you have no idea why you decided to invite Steve. But, you didn’t regret it. Even though having him in your room would be new, personal even, you felt like it would be okay. He’d never done anything to make you think otherwise.
Steve was excited at the idea of getting to go to your house, to see you in your environment where you’re comfortable. He felt like he’d been invited to tea with the queen or something, with how special it was to him.
Steve moved his desk right next to yours again, and you guys got to work after that, trying to stay focused even when your foot would brush his ankle. Even when he would nudge you playfully like friends do. Even when you both just wanted the school day to be over so you could be in his car together again.
Time slipped away yet again, like when you were with Steve the concept didn’t even exist. No minutes, no seconds, no hours. Just you and him. Class ended, and Steve got up, leaving you with a quick ‘see you later!’ before quickly walking out. You took your time to pack up as usual, then went to your locker.
You had forgotten all about the notes you’d been receiving until you opened your locker and found another one. Your mind had been so full of Steve that you didn’t even think of your secret admirer. You still couldn’t help the smile that overcame your features at the sight of the familiar paper and handwriting, though.
‘I think I’m running out of words to describe you. There aren’t enough in the world for that. -S <3’
You don’t know exactly why, but this one felt more personal than the other notes. It felt like maybe you knew this person more than you thought you did. You quickly put the note in the stack with the others and made your way to your next class. You needed to spill to Robin.
You took your seat next to her and sighed, loud enough that she took notice.
“What’s up with you?”
“I kinda sorta invited Steve to my house and I think I kinda sorta have a really huge crush on him.” You spoke fast, partly so it would be harder for Robin to understand you and partly because you just had to get it out.
“You did what? And, duh. I know that.”
“He’s driving us both to my place after school.”
“Oh you have it so bad! What about your secret admirer?”
“Well today I didn’t even think of them until I saw the note, which was super cute, but still. I don’t know. What if they remain a secret forever?”
“I guess that’s a good point. Moving on is good, but Steve? Seriously?” She started faux gagging, expressing her dislike for the boy.
“Stop it! You don’t know him. He’s not the same as his friends.”
“I’ll believe it when I see it.”
“Robs, have you ever seen him being the one to be an ass? I know he doesn’t always stop them, but he does now. He’s different.” You meant it. He was different from what everyone made him out to be. He was more than just some womanizer—he wasn’t even going on dates anymore—and he wasn’t a bully. He was a good person, and you wanted people to know that.
“Okay, okay. So your house, huh? That’s a big step for you.”
“I know it is. I trust him.”
“This is crazy.”
You left it at that, not wanting to get your hopes up for anything and certainly not wanting Robin to make you feel some kind of way about the whole situation.
Class started and ended in a blur. Your head kept down, pencil held tightly in your grasp. Leg bouncing and eyes flickering over to the clock every few minutes. The rest of the day went the same way, and you were impatiently waiting for it to be over.
When the end of the day came, however, you started to feel nervous. Steve was going to be in your house, in your room. You never thought a simple science project would bring so much confusion into your life, but it did. You were stuck sorting your feelings for Steve, for your secret admirer. Facing many of your usual fears—though they didn’t feel so scary where Steve was involved.
You made your way to the parking lot like you had the day before. Luckily, this time, there was no Tommy or Carol in sight. Just Steve leaning against the car kicking pebbles with his feet while waiting for you. When he saw you, he quickly walked to the passenger door, opening it for you like he had been doing every time. He then got in his seat, starting the car and driving towards your house.
“I think I remember the way, but you might need to remind me of some things.”
“That’s okay. Thanks for always opening the door for me. A true gentleman.”
“That’s how you treat a sweet lady like you.”
“You have a way with words, Steve.”
“Tell me about it.” He thought of the notes he wrote to you, and if you thought those words were good, too. If you would still act the same around him if you knew he was the one leaving them in your locker every day. He really hoped you would.
“It’s this street here.” You reminded him of where to turn to make it to your house, and he nodded along, turning on his signal and following your directions.
He pulled into your driveway, which happened to be empty, and turned off the car.
“I’ll get your door.” He then got out and walked around to your side of the car, opening the door and letting you out once again. The routine was perfected at this point, and you were happy to let him do it. Happy to oblige. You don’t think you could deny him anyways.
He followed you up the driveway and watched as you got your spare key and unlocked the door, putting the key back before guiding him inside.
“My mom’s working late today, so it’s just us.”
“No problem.” He noticed you fail to mention your dad on many occasions, but he didn’t want to pry, so he left that subject alone.
“We can go up to my room?”
He nodded, “lead the way.”
You did. Walking up the stairs with Steve on your heels. You turned into the hallway, then the doorway of your room. You set your backpack on the ground by the foot of your bed and turned around to face Steve.
“Here it is.”
“It’s really nice.” He was being honest. It felt very you. The cream floral sheets on your bed, the window seat that had a pile of pillows in it, your bookshelf that was full to the brim, even the way your desk was organized.
“Thanks… so, do you wanna do the project?”
“Oh. Yeah, yes. We should do that.”
You sat down on the floor by your bag, and Steve did the same. Backs resting against the end of your bed, legs stretched out and ankles crossed. Bringing up the project was a way to keep things safe, to avoid slipping up and spilling out your feelings. How you had the biggest crush on him, how you could see yourself loving him. Hell, you were almost there already.
Steve hated this damn science project. He just wanted to be around you without homework haunting him. But, he guesses he should also be grateful for it. You wouldn’t have even been in this room together had you not been partners. He just wanted to get it done so he could tell you the truth. That the notes in your locker were all from him, and that he felt more for you than just admiration. So much more.
You were unpacking your things, getting ready to start working. Steve grabbed his stuff too, even though his attention was elsewhere. He really was trying to focus, but you being right next to him didn’t help. Still, he pretended to be unaffected, to just be your partner for science when he wanted to be your partner in life.
“How much do we have left?” He checked in with you, trying to keep his head in the game.
“Not too much. We could probably finish today, actually.” You didn’t sound excited about being done with your project so soon. You just wanted to keep hanging out with Steve, but you were too scared to ask him to. The project was your safety net, and it was disappearing.
“That’s great! I keep on telling you, we’re a great team!”
“Guess you were right about that.”
“Oh, for sure. So, should we get to it?”
“Yeah, we should.”
So you did, reading over what you had done so far and making some notes as you went along. He really was right about the two of you working well together, and you couldn’t help but wonder if that would translate into a romantic relationship, too. It was silly, but that’s where your mind wandered before you snapped out of it and kept working.
Steve found it impressive, the way you were so dedicated to getting your work done. He was thankful for it as well, because there was no way he could be the one to keep the project going. You were silent as you worked, and he supposed that helped him. He couldn’t be distracted by your voice or the way your lips moved when you spoke.
Time swept by yet again, and you and Steve had both finished your parts of the project.
He pushed his papers towards you, “do you wanna read over it? Make sure it’s all there?”
You grabbed his pages and gave him yours in exchange, “sure, you do the same.”
“I’m sure yours is perfect, you genius.”
“I’m no genius, Steve. Just read it.”
“Sure thing.. genius.”
You huffed out a laugh, you didn’t know how he managed to make you laugh, to raise your spirits with just a few words. Something about him just made you smile, his aura was bright that way, and you thought if you could see it, it would be yellow.
Beaming sunshine, vibrant flowers, the taste of lemonade on a hot summer day. Yellow.
You both finished reading, smiling at each other in success and relief because it was done.
“It’s great, Steve. I’m kind of surprised.”
“You underestimate me, babe.”
“Babe?”
He didn’t even realize he said it, it sort of just slipped out. He wasn’t even mad about it, though. Because it made you all shy and flustered and it was so fucking cute. It made you react the same way you did to his notes, but this time you knew it was him. He loved it.
“You don’t like it?”
“No, I do, actually. Um, anyways. How was mine?”
“Perfect. You’re really great.”
“Thank you, Steve. I think you’re great too.”
“Yeah?”
Your faces were inches apart now, and neither of you had any idea how that happened. You had simply gravitated towards each other during your conversation. Eyes flicking down to lips, bodies turning towards each other, legs brushing ever so slightly.
You felt the air around you change, grow thicker, “yeah.”
He reached his hand out, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear gently before softly pressing his palm against your cheek. His thumb brushing back and forth on your skin, his head leaning even closer, his eyes moving all over your face.
“Can I kiss you, y/n?” He was looking at your lips as he spoke, but looked back into your eyes to search for a response.
You couldn’t believe this was happening, that he actually wanted to kiss you. That his attention was fully on you and his hand was on your face. Holding you like you were the most precious thing in the world.
“Yes, please.” It came out quietly, but you know he heard it because he was leaning in.
Then, he was kissing you. He was almost shy at first, but when you pushed yourself into him further, when you grabbed his shoulder to keep him close to you, he went in.
He kissed you with emotion, something you’d never felt before. It was like he was trying to say something with this kiss, only, you didn’t know what. He was using the hand on your face to tilt your head the way he wanted, moving his other hand to your waist. Holding you felt unreal, it felt right. He’d never had that with another person before.
His hand on your waist left your head spinning, and you wanted, needed, to get closer to him. You straddled him on the floor of your bedroom, never breaking the kiss. His back was against your bed, and his lips were on yours and it all felt like a dream. You grabbed the back of his head with your other hand, tangling your fingers in his hair.
When you situated yourself on his lap, he was in heaven. Steve was so in awe of you and the way you moved and he was so thankful that he was the one kissing you in this moment. He now had both of his hands on your waist, placing them under your sweater to feel your skin on his. This was insane.
He licked the seam of your lips, getting permission to slip his tongue into your mouth. You opened up for him right away, allowing your tongues to tangle together and it was incredible. You couldn’t help it when you started to move your hips over him. He made you needy in a way you’d never experienced.
His hips bucked up into yours and you gasped into his mouth at the feeling of him. Hard and turned on and it was because of you. You pulled back to breathe and rested your forehead on his. He thought he’d scared you off with his actions, and he squeezed his eyes shut at the thought.
“I’m sorry. Fuck, I’m sorry, babe.”
You grabbed his face in your hands, tilting his head so he was forced to look at you, but he kept his eyes shut, “look at me, Steve.”
He obeyed you. He would do anything you asked him to. His shining brown eyes meeting yours. You got lost in them, swirls of honey and chocolate. Perfect, and sweet, and melting just for you.
“I want this. And I want you. It’s okay.”
“You’re sure?” He was breathing so heavily, he never imagined that this is where a science project would get him, and he decided he’d thank Mrs. Johnson later for putting you together.
You nodded and he could feel the movement as your heads were still together, and then you were kissing again. It was like you hadn’t even stopped, finding the rhythm right away, two magnets with opposite attractions. Stuck together.
Your hips were moving faster over him, chasing the friction leaving your panties a mess. He bucked into you again, using his hands on your waist to keep you sliding over him. Before you could go any further, though, he was pulling away.
“Get on the bed, angel.”
Yet another term of endearment that had slipped past his lips. He didn’t overthink it this time, though. You really were an angel and he wanted you all to himself. He knew it was a bad idea to do this when he hadn’t been fully honest with you yet, but he couldn’t help himself. He really couldn’t.
You listened to him, to his commanding yet soft tone of order. Lifting yourself off of him and climbing onto the bed, leaning back on your elbows to watch him get up. He stood and peeled his shirt off, and your eyes drifted over him. Over the soft ridges and muscles that moved as he did. He crawled onto the bed, hovering over you before placing his lips back on yours.
You moaned into his mouth, needing more from him. He could tell, and he moved his kisses down to your jaw, then your neck. He decided not to leave any marks this time, he wanted you to be fully his when he did that. His hands slid up your thighs, underneath your skirt and he pulled away to look at you writhing underneath him.
“Think we need to make this even. Y’know cause you still have your shirt on and mine’s off.”
“Okay.” You nodded along, fully immersed in what he was saying and his voice and the soft dominance he provided. The comfort you felt with him. You sat up and took off your sweater, revealing the lacy bra you had underneath.
“Fuck. You always hiding stuff like this under your clothes, angel?”
“Only when we hang out.”
“It’s for me?”
“Uh huh.”
That was probably the best thing he’d ever heard. That you thought about him this way, and even wore underwear that was for him. Though, he thinks he’d think you were the most beautiful girl he’d ever seen no matter what you were in. So there’s that.
He continued to kiss his way down your neck, and even further without your sweater in the way. He placed pecks along your chest, over the swell of your breasts and down your stomach. His hands were running up and down your body, never settling in one place for too long. He looked up at you when his mouth was just above the waistband of your skirt.
“Can I take this off?”
“Please.” Your hips were swaying slightly, searching for any kind of relief.
He undid the zipper of your skirt and pushed himself up, giving himself room to pull it down and throw it to the floor. He spotted the wet spot on your underwear and groaned at the sight.
“You’re really wet. Can see it through your clothes, angel. Who’s that for, huh?” His hand was pressed over you now, fingers pushing against the wetness that had gathered on your underwear.
You whimpered at the slightest touch, “Steve, take them off, please.”
“Tell me what you want me to do.”
“Shit. Want your mouth.”
“I’ll give it to you, babe. Lay back and feel it.”
He slid your parties down slowly, almost painfully. He tossed them on the floor where the rest of your clothes were, then he took his time to admire you. You pushed your thighs together, feeling shy and exposed under his intense gaze. But, he pushed them back apart, tutting softly.
“You’re beautiful, y/n. Let me see you.”
You hid your face behind your hands, not used to getting compliments during moments like this. Once again, he used his hands to stop you from hiding, grabbing your wrists and pressing them into the bed next to your head. He was fully leaned over you, forcing you to look right at him.
“Stop hiding from me. I want you, too.” His voice was firm, convincing, but still kind with his words. He wanted to reassure you, to show you that he wasn’t what everyone thought he was. That he was good and he would be even better for you.
He stood up and took his jeans off, opting to let you see the hard outline of him through his boxers. He got back on the bed, kneeling with his legs on either side of yours. He grabbed one of your hands and pressed it against his underwear.
“You feel how hard I am? That’s because of you.”
You palmed him, moving your hand back and forth over his clothed cock and feeling the size, the hard weight of him.
“You’re so big, Steve.”
“Guess I should get you ready for me, huh?”
He slid down your body, until he was laying between your legs, face level with your cunt. He was so turned on right now, seeing how wet you were, how you were ready for him and how you put your trust in him. He’d never take this for granted.
“You’re soaked, angel.”
Then he dove in, licking you fully before focusing on your clit. You moaned as soon as his mouth made contact, hands flying into his hair and pulling on the strands. The action made him moan into you, and you felt it.
“Steve. Holy shit.”
You were grinding yourself against his face now, and he knew you needed more. So, he slid a finger down to your entrance, sliding it in easily and curling it to find the spot that felt best for you.
He pulled away from you to see your face, scrunched in pleasure, mouth parted to let out the most beautiful sounds he’d ever heard.
“Tell me what feels good, angel.”
Then he pushed in a second finger, curling it along with the first and when you gasped, he knew he’d found the spot. He worked hard to continue to hit that spot.
“Right there, Steve. Oh my god.”
“Gonna come for me?”
“Yes, yes. Please don’t stop.”
He didn’t, instead, he moved his face back down to suck at your clit, drawing your orgasm out of you. He knew you were there when you arched your back, body tensing and cunt fluttering around his fingers. He moved his face away again, but kept moving his fingers to help you come down.
“That’s it, angel. Good girl. I got you.”
You were a mess, moaning his name over and over and pulling his hair until you came down. You were breathing heavily, eyes lulling open to look down at Steve.
“Wow.”
“Good?”
“Amazing. Come here.”
You pulled him back to your mouth by his hair, kissing him and whimpering when you tasted yourself on his mouth, on his tongue. You moved your hands down to his boxers, pushing at the waistband to get them off, whining when he wouldn’t help you.
“Someone’s needy. Don’t worry, we’ll get there.”
“Steve. Take ‘em off.”
“Only if you take off your bra. It’s only fair.”
Instead of replying, you moved your hands to the clasp of your bra, undoing it and sliding it off all while looking into his eyes. When you threw your bra aside, his eyes wandered down to your tits.
“Absolutely gorgeous. Perfect.”
He started to cup your boobs in his hands, but you pulled them away, motioning towards his boxers.
“No touching until you take those off, Steve.”
“Bossy. You’re hot.”
Then he took off his underwear, cock bouncing out hard and red at the tip. You reached your hand down to jerk him off, swiping your thumb across the tip to gather the pre-cum there and bringing it to your mouth, humming at the taste of him.
“Can I fuck you, angel?”
“Yeah, please. I need it.”
He moved off of you to find his jeans on the floor, grabbing his wallet out of the pocket and finding the condom he kept there. Just in case. He watched you watching him as he slipped it on, eyes hungry and dark.
“Keeping a condom in your wallet, Steve? That’s presumptuous of you.”
“Yeah well, I was right, so you should be thanking me, really.”
“Idiot. Get over here.”
Once again, he was on the bed hovering over you, elbows holding him up on either side of your head, dipping down to kiss you. Languid and slow. You reached down and guided his cock along your folds, coating it in your wetness before pushing his tip into you. He took the hint and did the rest, grabbing your hands and pressing them into the bed with his.
He pushed in slowly, gently, giving you time to adjust and feel him. When he was almost fully in, when your brows pinched together at the burn of the stretch, he kissed you. Distracting you from the slight pain, pushing himself the rest of the way in. He stilled, giving you some time to adjust until you were squirming.
“Move, Steve. Please.”
He did as you asked, starting off slowly, building up his rhythm to let you get used to it. He was so attentive with his actions, so invested in making sure that you were okay and you didn’t know that sex could be like this. Could feel this good and this emotional.
“You feel so good, angel. So so good. Made for me.”
“All for you, baby.”
“Fuck.”
Then he sped up, moving so one of his arms was cradling your head, the other sliding down to press against your stomach, wanting to feel himself deep in you.
“Oh my fucking god. That’s so good.”
“Yeah? Can you feel me in your tummy, babe?”
“Yes, fuck.”
Your arms were wrapped around his neck now, a hand in his hair again and the other scratching against his back. He moaned at the spike of pain of your nails against his skin, knowing he’d have angry red marks from it but he didn’t care. In fact, he welcomed the reminder.
His head was buried in your neck, breaths and moans melting against your skin. “Fuck. You’re incredible.”
“I’m so close, Steve. Please.”
“Gonna give me another? I’ve got you.”
He moved the hand that was on your stomach down to your clit, rubbing circles to get you there. It worked, because you were squeezing him tight, like a fist. He came at the same time as you, pushing himself as deep as he could and moaning. Hips stilled and pushed tight against your pelvis. You whimpered, mouth agape as you finished.
Steve collapsed on top of you as you both came down. You were petting his hair, running your fingers through it softly, caressing. One of his hands was still holding your head, cradling it close to him, the other running up and down your side soothingly.
He rolled off of you and pulled out after a couple minutes, not wanting to fall asleep on top of you.
“I should go clean up,” your voice was quiet, raw from all the noises you’d made. You were so grateful your mom wasn’t home.
“Let me help you.”
“Okay.”
He got up first, then picked you up and carried you into your bathroom which was attached to your room, setting you on the toilet so you could pee. While you did, he grabbed a washcloth and ran it under the sink, disposing of the condom and cleaning himself off. When you were done and were washing your hands, he ran the washcloth between your legs, pressing a kiss on your bare shoulder when you whimpered because of how sensitive you were.
“I know, It’s okay. You did good, babe.”
“Thank you, Steve.”
Once your hands were dry, he picked you up again and placed you on your bed. Under the covers this time, and you cuddled up quickly, eyes falling shut. He Grabbed his boxers off the floor and slid them on. He walked back over to you and kissed your forehead.
“I should go before your mom gets home, but I’ll see you tomorrow, okay?”
“Mhm. Bye, Steve.”
“Bye, angel.”
He put on the rest of his clothes and when he turned to you to say bye again, you were fast asleep in the bed. He smiled softly at the sight and then left a small note on your table. Walking over to the door and closing it softly behind him.
The whole drive home all he thought about was you and what he was going to do. He decided he’d tell you everything tomorrow. He wouldn’t let it go too far. He didn’t let it go too far already, did he?
You woke up in the middle of the night, peeking at your alarm clock and groaning at what time it was. You got up to put your discarded clothes in your hamper, put on pyjamas, and brush your teeth. Once that was done, you peeked out your window to see if your mom was home. She wasn’t. You guessed it really was a late shift.
You saw the small note Steve left you then, sitting pretty on your bedside table.
‘I want to see you again, here’s my number! Call me whenever, and see you tomorrow -Steve <3’
The heart looked familiar, so did the handwriting, and the paper. No way.
No way.
You knew why you felt like you’d seen it all before. It was him, your secret admirer. He never told you and you just had sex with him. Holy shit.
You went back to your bed and stared at the ceiling, deciding that first thing tomorrow you’d confront him about it. You’d learn the truth and you’d see how he felt about you. If this was real or if it was just some stupid fantasy to him.
You fell asleep hours later, after overthinking yourself to exhaustion.
The next morning, once you got to school, you went straight to your locker, grabbing the stack of notes before walking back outside. You sat yourself on the bench by the parking lot, deciding you’d sit there and wait for Steve to arrive, even if it meant missing first period. You needed to talk to him, or you’d lose your mind.
Robin spotted you sitting there on her way in, walking over to you with a confused look on her face.
“What are you doing?”
“Waiting for Steve. I need to talk to him.”
She eyed the notes in your hands, connecting the dots, “oh my god. It’s him?”
“I’m pretty sure. We also had sex last night, so.”
“What? You’re joking.”
“Dead serious.”
“Okay. Good luck. I love you, tell me what happens.”
“Love you too, Robs.”
Then, she walked away, leaving you by yourself with your thoughts. You were so confused. Why would Steve decide to leave you anonymous notes? And why wouldn’t he tell you once you were partnered together? Most of all, did he actually like you?
It didn’t feel like long before you saw the BMW pull into its usual spot. Your leg was bouncing up and down, anxious and impatient to learn the full story.
Steve got out of his car and spotted you on the bench, furrowing his brows because he knew first period had already started. Did you skip just for him? He felt like he was missing something, but he was glad to have the opportunity to talk to you, so he walked over. He waved at you with a smile, happy to see you even if it was odd.
“Hi, babe! What are you doing out here?” He took a seat next to you, noticing your avoidance of his gaze and the seriousness of your face.
You held out the notes to him, “did you write these, Steve?”
Shit. He really didn’t want you finding out on your own, he wanted to tell you. “Um, yes. I wanted to tell you today, I swear!”
“Oh my god! Why wouldn’t you tell me before? We had sex, Steve, and you didn’t say anything.”
“I know! I’m sorry. I wasn’t thinking about the notes then, I was thinking about you. I know this looks really bad but will you please let me explain?”
“I just want to know the truth, Steve. Was this some kind of game to you?” Your voice was small, and shaky, and when you looked up at Steve he watched a tear slip down your cheek. You wiped it away quickly, but he still saw it. It felt like a punch to his gut, he never wanted to make you upset.
“No! I promise. I really really like you, y/n. Like a huge amount. I have for a long time. I could tell you were shy and I thought you’d hate me if I talked to you without knowing you, especially because of how my stupid fucking friends treated you.”
You were really listening to what he was saying, trying your best to give him the benefit of the doubt because you really, really liked him too. You didn’t want it to be a game, but you were so scared that he wasn’t genuine.
“I haven’t hung out with them since we became partners, okay? I don’t want to ever again. I just want to be around you. I wrote those notes because I wanted you to know how I felt about you but I was too fucking scared to tell you it was me. I want to be with you. I want you to be my girlfriend and I don’t want to hide that anymore.”
He was saying all of the right things, everything you wanted to hear. The best part was, you could tell me meant it all, that he really did like you. You thought back to how the notes made you feel, to how much you enjoyed them and the butterflies they gave you.
You realized you weren’t even mad at him. No, you were just insecure and scared. But, you understood. You understood being nervous and scared. How could you fault him for that?
Steve was freaking out, he thought he was about to lose you and he only just got you. He wasn’t going to allow that. Not when you were the best thing that ever walked into his life, when you made him feel safe and secure and wanted.
“Please, please forgive me. Let me make it up to you, I’ll do anything. I really do like you.I’m falling in love with you, okay? I’ve never felt this way before and I don’t want to lose you so please-”
You kissed him, cutting off his nervous rambling so that he would just calm down. So he would know that he wasn’t going to lose you. Not now, not ever.
You pulled away, “Steve. It’s okay. I understand. I just wanted to know. I’m sorry I made you so scared. I’m falling in love with you, too. You know, I’ve had a crush on you for like, ever.”
His whole face lit up at your words, his relief evident in the atmosphere. “Really? So you forgive me?”
You grabbed his hand and held it tightly, giving him some comfort with your touch, “I wasn’t really angry, Steve. I was just scared. I forgive you, I did as soon as you opened your mouth.”
“So you’ll be my girlfriend? You wanna be with me?”
“Yeah, I want to be with you. That okay?”
“Perfect. You’re perfect.”
“We kinda owe Mrs. Johnson for putting us together, don’t we?”
“Like I said, we make a great team.”
You really did, and you felt it now more than ever. Even though people would talk and you’d inevitably fight, you knew you’d get through it with Steve by your side. Everything came together on that bench, like your entire lives lead up to that exact point in time. Because you didn’t know how it could get any better.
summary: you’re convinced you hate steve, and that he hates you right back. during your camping trip with friends, you find out just how wrong you’ve been.
word count: 13.9k
warnings: smut, mentions of a bad home life/family relationships, one bed (tent) trope, enemies to lovers (ish), and a sprained ankle
a/n: okay this one took forever so thank u for your patience and i hope it was at least partially worth the wait! please let me know what you think and reblog if you enjoyed, it helps a bunch!!!!
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Steve Harrington is a menace. And not in a good way.
For some reason, he insists on making your life more difficult. It couldn’t be for nothing, but you didn’t know exactly why. Maybe it’s because you tend to do the same to him, maybe you liked to get under his skin just as much.
He hung out with assholes in high school, and by proxy, he was also an asshole. Plus, you were really close with Nancy throughout school, and when she and Steve broke up, it didn’t really help his case. You didn’t know the full story, though.
You had no idea that Nancy cheated on Steve with Jonathan, only that she had feelings for him. You didn’t know about his parents and how it all affects him. You didn’t know that he dumped his friends so quickly after upsetting Nancy, that he worked hard to make it better. You didn’t know how much he cared.
You barely knew him. All you knew is that he got on your nerves. You couldn’t stand him.
It went both ways, though. Steve found you irritating and he hated that you had the same group of friends now. Because it meant he had to be around you almost all the time.
He wasn’t aware, however, that you struggled in school to have friends that weren’t Nancy, and when they dated, he sort of took her away from you, cut your time with her and you were alone a lot. Logically, it’s not his fault, but it’s how you felt. He didn’t know that you had a hard time at home like he did.
Maybe, for both of you, the feud was an escape, a way to channel your negative energy towards each other and not anyone or anything else.
After graduating, you applied for a job at Family Video, only for it to be taken by none other than Steve Harrington. You knew Robin worked there, too, but she was actually your friend.
That left you with a job at the grocery store that you hated but had to keep. It sucked.
Again, maybe it’s not his fault, but you were usually mad at him anyways. Why not add another layer to it?
On your days off, you spent your time at Family Video, though. You didn’t like being at home, and Nancy was still busy with high school for another year, so you hung out with Robin. Unfortunately, hanging out with Robin often meant hanging out with Steve, too.
That’s where you found yourself now, walking through the glass doors into the video store.
“Hi Robin,” you said as you walked up to the counter.
“Hey!” She noticed the takeout bag in your hand, “oh my gosh, you’re the best.”
“No hi for me, babe?”
“Fuck off, Steve.”
He scoffed. “This is my workplace, actually. I can't leave.”
“Yeah, I’m painfully aware of that.”
“Why don’t you ever just go home? You don’t need to be here.”
You tense up at that one, because he’s right. You don’t need to be there, but the last place you want to go is home these days. You roll your shoulders and try to shake it off.
“Anyway. Robin’s taking her break now. Bye.”
Robin just shrugs as you pull her away into the back room.
Steve is left thinking about why you reacted that way to what he said. It wasn’t the worst thing he’s said to you by far, and he knows it, so why was it enough to make you wince a little? And why the fuck does he care?
Once you were alone Robin glanced at you. Noting your off behaviour due to the home comment. She hates that two of her closest friends don’t get along, and she thinks she has a plan to change that.
“He doesn’t know,” she says. “About…you know.”
“Yeah, I know.” And you did, but that didn’t stop it from stinging. You just wanted to stop thinking about it. “So, how’s work going?”
“Ugh, it’s so boring. This food helps.”
“Not even my presence? Just the food?”
“Oh. You’re okay too, I guess.”
The both of you laugh, and you’re reminded of just how great Robin’s company can be. She takes your mind off of things and you wish you could show her how much you appreciate it.
So, when she asks you if you want to go catch a movie that night, you say yes.
-
You show up a little early, making sure you meet Robin outside before the movie starts.
However, she wasn’t showing up. And Robin wasn’t the type to be late, or blow you off without an excuse. So, you just went inside without her. You wandered around for a bit, giving her another chance to show up but she never did.
A call of your name grabbed your attention, but the voice made you roll your eyes. Why was Steve here?
“What are you doing here, babe?”
People would think the nickname was an endearment, something sweet. When it was coming from Steve, directed at you, though, it was almost like an insult. Spat out and accompanied by a frown of an angry pinch of his brows.
“Supposed to meet Robin, not that it’s any of your business.”
He chuckles, like he knows something you don’t. “Actually, it is my business. ‘Cause I was supposed to meet Robin, too.”
“She’s gonna be the death of me.”
“That’s something we can agree on.”
She must’ve thought putting you two together unknowingly would solve the issues. It certainly wasn’t that simple, but bless her for trying.
“Well. I’m not gonna give up some popcorn and a movie, Steve.”
“Neither am I. I’m already here, so…”
He wasn’t going to leave? Why? You really didn’t think seeing the latest rom-com would interest him, but then again, Robin got him here somehow. She thought she was so slick, you’re sure of it.
“Fine.”
“Fine,” he parrots back.
You get your snacks and go to the screening room, all without talking to Steve. You’re actually trying to ignore his presence as a whole. He’s trailing behind you the entire time, though, so it’s not that easy. When you sit down, he sits beside you, and you glare.
“Why are you beside me?”
“It’s the seat on my ticket, babe. Where else would I go?”
“Seriously? Do you see the amount of empty seats?” You gestured around the theatre to prove your point.
In return, he just leaned back in his seat and let out a dramatic sigh, like it was the most comfortable he’d been all day when you know the seats are lumpy and stiff. You turn your face to the screen and go back to ignoring him.
He was a dork at the movies, you found. And it hadn’t even started.
Steve giggled at the stupidest commercials, would nudge you anytime he found a joke funny just to annoy you more. He ate his popcorn in giant handfuls where most of it would just land in his lap anyway. You even moved seats, leaving two between you and him, and he just moved over with you.
Fucking Steve.
“Would you move back over?”
“But the view’s so much better here.”
“Insufferable,” you mutter as you move back to your original seat. He tries to follow again but you push him back down with a hand on his chest, you ignore how it feels under your palm. “Stay here like a good boy.”
His heart rate picks up and he prays you can’t feel it. He kinda thought that was hot, but he shakes it out of his head before he thinks about it too much, what it might mean. He looks at you from under his lashes, taunting. “What if I wanna be bad, babe?”
You stand up fully and take your hand off of him. You don’t know if the comment was meant to sound so dirty, but you don’t even want to think about it. The idea of Steve in any way that’s more than a pain in your ass makes you shudder. The opening credits of the film grab your attention.
“You stay here. I’m gonna go there.” You don’t give him enough time to respond.
He watches you walk away, and he decides he’ll let you have at least some peace until he goes over and bothers you again. He’s itching to go and sit next to you, and he convinces himself it’s because of his pent up frustration from the work day, nothing else. You’re the only one he can argue with that will give it right back to him. He hates it, but he craves it all the same.
It’s about halfway through the movie when Steve sits next to you again. You shake your head, though you're surprised he waited this long.
“Thought I told you to stay,” you whisper rather aggressively at him.
“Yeah, well I don’t think you really hold any authority over me, babe.”
“Nobody trained you as a kid to listen?”
“You’re talking like I’m a dog.”
“Might as well be.”
He scoffed, maybe a little loudly, but he didn’t care. You tested him constantly, and he wasn’t sure what it was about you that made him so frustrated all of the time. Maybe it was the fact that you never even gave him a chance to be civil with you, staring him down and rolling your eyes the first time you even met. Maybe it was the way he knew you were a good friend to others, he saw it with Robin and Nancy and everyone else, just not him.
Either way, you made his blood boil, so much so that he often thought about you when you weren’t around. The things you’d say and the looks you’d give him. You never left his mind and it infuriated him.
“You’re a real pain, you know that?”
“That's all you got for me, Steve?” You blinked at him with an innocent smile.
“You know-” he’s cut off by multiple people in the theatre shushing him.
“I tried to tell him, guys. So sorry.”
Despite people telling you to be quiet, you and Steve only last about two minutes next to each other before whisper-fighting again. It gets bad enough that you’re asked to leave.
As much as you know you’re both at fault, you feel fine blaming him.
“Seriously, Steve?” You spoke harshly at him once you’re outside. “You couldn’t just stay two seats away and let me watch the damn movie?”
“I didn’t want to watch it, so I talked to you instead. What’s so bad about that?”
“Oh don’t play innocent with me.”
“Fine. No, I couldn’t. You piss me off and I just wanted to hangout with Robin, not deal with you yet again today.”
“You’re not dealing with me. I can deal with myself, and I wanted to be with Robin too, asshole. Don’t get that twisted.”
“Trust me. You never let me fucking forget how little you want to be around me.”
“Because this is what happens!” You’re tired, and you don’t feel like arguing with him anymore. “Fuck this, I’m going home. Thanks for ruining my night, Harrington.”
He almost offers you a ride home. He knows you took the bus, you usually do. And he also knows that you hate the bus, he hears you say it to Robin enough. Then, he thinks about sitting next to you for longer and decides against it.
“Ditto,” he spits your name back at you. Not ‘babe,’ not any other nickname.
-
Once you're home and safely in your room, after the usual shit from your parents, you dial Robin’s number. She picks up on the third ring.
“Heyyy,” she sounds guilty, and she should.
“I’m gonna end you, Robs. What the hell?”
“I’m sorry! I just wanted you and Steve to get along and I thought maybe forcing you two to spend time together would help.”
She says it in a rush, her rambly way of speaking and you feel bad for being angry with her when you know she had good intentions, but she lied and you hated being lied to. Even if it was a small one.
“Robin, he got us kicked out of the fucking theatre.”
“You mean you both got kicked out?”
You sputter. You know she’s right but you hate to admit it.
“Fine, whatever. Still. That was torture, Robin. Torture!”
“I just want you guys to be civil, at least.”
“Maybe you should talk to Steve, then,” you hate that even when he’s not around, you can’t avoid him. “He’s just as guilty as I am.”
“I know that, and I will. I have another thing to bring up, actually.”
You’re eager to change the subject, to not talk about Steve Harrington for five fucking minutes so you hum, tell her to go on.
“The camping trip?”
You groan into the phone, “I know we do it every year but I hate camping.” Hate is an exaggeration.
“Nance wanted me to remind you, so that you book off work and don’t make any excuses.”
Fuck. She knows you too well.
“Yeah, okay. I’ll go.”
“Yay! And I really am sorry about the movie, I thought it would work.”
“I wouldn’t be so hopeful if I were you, Robs. Thanks for trying, I think? Bye.”
You hang up and flop backwards onto your bed. Staring at the ceiling, you can’t help but reflect on your day. The way Steve seemed to infiltrate everything you did, how his chest felt under your hand, the way he made you lose your mind like nobody else. You roll over and bury your face in your pillow.
Even when he’s not around, Steve’s able to drive you insane.
He wasn’t feeling much different. Steve had a very similar phone call with Robin where he complained about what she did, asked her what the hell she was thinking, and agreed to the camping trip reluctantly just as you had.
Robin couldn’t believe how similar you two were, and you had no idea.
Steve fell asleep with his face squished in his pillow and your perfume lingering in his senses. It was a fitful sleep.
-
The days pass by and you manage to avoid Steve as much as possible. When you visit Family Video, you make sure it’s during Robin’s breaks or on a day Steve isn’t meant to be working. When you do see him, you try to stay quiet and simply glare. You don’t feel like wasting energy arguing with him anymore.
Before you know it, it’s time for the camping trip. Nancy writes packing lists for everyone, Jonathan and Argyle are in charge of equipment, Robin plans everything, Steve and Eddie get the tents, and you plan the meals. It really is a whole system, and it’s been working so far and you can only hope it stays that way.
The morning you’re set to leave, you’re extra tired. You barely slept the night before and when you think about it you haven’t been sleeping well for a while. Since the movies with Steve, actually. You’re half asleep sitting on your porch steps next to your luggage when Eddie’s van finally arrives.
The sharp honk of the horn startles you, and you groggily grab your things and make your way over to the car. Of course, you’re not ecstatic to be spending an extended amount of time trapped in a van with Steve, but you’re too sleepy to worry about it too much.
Jonathan and Argyle are taking a car packed full with most of the stuff, while Eddie drives the rest of you along with whatever couldn’t fit in Jonathan’s car.
As you climb in, you don’t really take note of who’s sitting where, only that there’s enough room in the back for you to take a nap, so that’s what you do. You say hi, then, you’re curling up and closing your eyes. Your friends decide not to bother you and let you sleep.
Steve, sitting in the passenger seat next to Eddie, couldn’t stop turning his head to check if you were still asleep. He’d cover it up by saying something to Robin or Nancy, but they could see where his eyes were looking. On one hand, he was glad you were asleep; you seemed tired—more so than usual—and it kept him from having to argue with you. On the other, he sort of wished you’d wake up and say something to him, even if it was an insult. He missed the banter, the way he could let himself go around you.
He’d never say it, he barely even lets himself think it, but he misses the sound of your voice, too.
He didn't even want to wake you up when the van finally got to the campsite, even though the others left him to do just that. You looked so peaceful, the usual scowl you wore around him wiped off your face. He reached a hand out carefully, slowly, like he was almost afraid to wake you. He ran it up your arm first, ignoring the buzz in his fingertips, and shook your shoulder gently.
“Babe, wake up.”
You blinked your eyes open lazily, “oh god. Please don’t make fun of me right now, Steve. I’m too tired.”
He tries not to think of the pinch he feels at the fact that you think he woke you simply to say something to tease you. He doesn’t blame you, but it still bothers him. He pulls his hand away.
“Just telling you we’re here, sleepyhead. Would’ve let you keep sleeping, you know, enjoy the quiet. Everyone else wanted me to wake you up.”
“‘Kay, well your job is done.”
“Yep. Bye.”
He walks away after that, and you think that might’ve been the most awkward interaction you’ve ever had with Steve. He was distracted, maybe. Something on his mind you think. You stretch with a groan and move on.
You finally make your way over to where everyone else is setting up the tents, and Robin greets you with a dramatic hug. “Don’t be mad.”
You pull back and squint at her. “What did you do?”
“So,” she rocks back on her heels. “While you were asleep during the drive, the tent arrangements were sort of made and you and Steve happen to be sharing.”
“What? Why?”
“Well…me and Nancy want to share,” she looks at you shyly, even though you know she’s harboured feelings for a while. “And so the big tent went to three of the guys and Steve volunteered to share the last one with you.”
“He volunteered? You’re joking, right?”
Steve? Voluntarily share a tent with you? There was absolutely no way. The last time you checked, he hated you and vice versa, so what the hell was he trying to do here?
“No, I’m not.”
“Fuck’s sake,” you take a deep breath. You don’t want to ruin Robin and Nancy’s time and to be honest, when you think about it, you know Steve the most out of all of the guys. “Okay. Fine.”
“Thank you!” She then runs off to set up the tent with Nancy.
You look around for Steve and find him by himself, trying to put up the tent that would be yours, too. You make your way over there to help, and maybe to figure out what he was up to with this sharing thing.
“Hey, Harrington?”
He looks up from where he was fiddling with the tent, his forehead slightly damp and his jacket forgotten on the ground. You look at his arms, the way they move, but catch yourself before he notices. What the hell?
“Uh oh. The last name…”
“You agreed to share a tent with me?”
He honestly has no clue how he’ll talk his way out of this one. The truth is, he volunteered to share with you not only because he thinks Robin and Nancy deserve to share, but because he hated the idea of any of the other guys being the ones to sleep next to you. He doesn’t even want to begin to unpack what that might mean.
“Is that gonna be a problem?”
You crossed your arms, “you tell me, Steve. What are you playing at?”
“Wha- nothing. You should be thanking me, actually. ‘Cause Eddie and Argyle smell like weed all the time and Jonathan Sleep talks. I know from last year.”
“Thank you? Oh, Steve my saviour, for saving me from having to sleep next to a sleep talker.. the horror!”
He rolls his eyes, “are you gonna help me with this tent or stand there like a princess, huh?”
You stomp over to help him, sort of petulant and grumpy. You just want to know why he seemed so okay with this. None of it made sense and ever since he woke you up from your sleep in the van, things feel weird with Steve. You aren’t having full on arguments so far, and you don’t even remember the last time you’d gone this long without yelling at least once.
Miraculously, you and Steve actually finish setting up your tent first.
He smiled at you when it was done, and you shook off the feeling in your chest at having that boyish grin of his directed at you. You don’t think he’s ever genuinely smiled at you before.
After the site was set up, you all spent the rest of the day moving your stuff to the right places. It occupied enough of your time that when you were all finished, it was beginning to get dark out, the sun and its beams replaced by the night sky.
That night, nobody was up for cooking a big meal, so you all settled for cooking hot dogs over the fire that Steve built. It was a good night, in the end. Steve sat across the fire from you and the whole group split off into smaller conversations meaning you didn’t really have to interact with him. You still looked at him, though.
Every couple of minutes your gaze would flick over to him, his face lit up by the orange glow of the campfire. He’s always been pretty, you knew that, but you could see it now more than ever. The way he looked when he laughed, his hair a little messy but he didn’t care about it around his friends. It was hard to look away.
He found himself doing the same, stealing glances when you were too preoccupied telling a story or giggling at something someone said. You always grabbed his attention in a way he didn’t understand. He wanted to look at you, to talk to you (even when talking was more like fighting).
As it got later, and the majority of the group had already gone to bed, the rest of you decided to turn in, too. You had sort of been dreading going to bed because you were worried about how having Steve there would be. If you two could get along long enough to sleep.
He let you get changed first, hanging back to put out the fire and make sure everything was cleaned up. He waited a bit before going to bed, lingering by the dying fire and hoping you’d be asleep by the time he joined you in the tent.
You weren’t asleep, but you laid facing away from his sleeping bag and stayed that way while he laid down next to you. It was weird, feeling Steve’s body so close to yours. You could feel the body heat, the slight shift everytime he moved.
Steve had trouble getting comfortable. Something about you being so close to him in this way had his mind running miles a minute. He could smell your shampoo, could see details he never really lingered on before.
When Steve shifted once more you turned onto your back, “will you stop moving? Can’t sleep ‘cause you’re noisy.”
He smiles at the sleep in your voice, he hopes you don’t see it.
“Sorry, babe. Trying to get comfy.”
You expected him to say something along the lines of ‘you can sleep outside if it bothers you so much,’ not to apologize. He’s sweet when he’s tired, it seems, because after that he really does try to stay still.
“Um. ‘S okay,” you turn back onto your side, shutting your eyes and adding, “night, Steve.”
“Goodnight.”
He moves one more time before falling asleep, as slowly and quietly as he can and he winces when the noise of his sleeping bag against the fabric of the tent still rings through the small space. Luckily, you’re already sleeping this time.
-
At one point during the night, Steve wakes up extra warm. He opens his eyes and the space is dark, but he can see enough to know that the two of you have moved much closer in your sleep.
Your sleeping bags were against each other, Steve’s arm sticking out of his and slung over your waist, his nose almost touching your hair.
It’s an intimate position, especially for the pair of you, and he really doesn’t want to move but he also doesn’t want you to wake up and yell at him for being so close.
He takes another inhale, smelling your hair again before pulling himself away from you and turning to face the opposite direction.
He misses the feeling of you tucked close to him but chooses not to dwell on that.
-
The first full day was mostly uneventful.
You spent the time hanging out around the campsite reading, or playing cards, or just talking. It was nice to be able to spend so much time with the people you keep close, the friends you know you’ll always have.
As for Steve, things with him are odd. You don’t find yourself arguing with him, more so just teasing and letting things go that you wouldn’t have before. It seems like you both have realized something. What exactly that is, you’re not sure.
For now, you blame the atmosphere. Something in the air is making things shift around, feel different.
At one point you and Robin take a walk, finding the communal bathrooms and some trails that you can take later. She really just wanted to have someone to spill to about how things went with Nancy, and you were more than happy to listen. To get your mind off of a certain boy who wouldn’t seem to leave your thoughts.
The time ticked by lazily, the day filled with laughs and a lightness that you don’t feel when you’re in Hawkins. There are so many horrible people in the town, and while you know there are good ones, too, it’s nice to escape the bad for a couple of days.
Nothing super eventful happened until that night.
You all decided to open up the lunchbox Eddie brought containing joints, some provided by Argyle, which you wouldn’t touch given your tolerance, and smoke by the fire that burned as brightly as the night before.
A couple of joints were lit, passed around the circle until they were finished. Some people would hog them for longer, causing some false anger and light slaps and playful whines to ‘share,’ and ‘be nice!’
Somehow, you and Steve ended up next to each other this time. And somehow, there wasn’t any comment made about it, you both accepted it, welcomed it, even. He was warm, his skin like a space heater that you actually wanted to keep close. You blamed it on the fact that you got chilly easily.
Once, when you tried to reach for the joint from Steve’s grasp, he gave you a teasing grin and held it out of your reach.
“Hand it over, Harrington,” you huffed.
“If you want it, you gotta come get it, babe.”
Usually, the nickname would come out harsh, but not this time. No, this time it lost its edge, leaving his mouth like a true endearment. It made your heart stutter.
“‘Kay,” you were already feeling it, so you didn’t hesitate to practically climb into his lap to get it.
He was frozen at the feeling of you against him, on him. It made him blush and he hoped that the glow of the fire hid it well. You grabbed the joint easily, humming in success and moving back to your spot next to him.
He avoided Robin’s gaze, knowing it would say ‘seriously?’ and raise even more questions in his head about what he actually feels for you. He wasn’t ready to dive into that just yet.
As the sky got darker and the hours shifted to the earliest of the morning, the group began to head to bed. First, it was Nancy and Robin, stumbling off giggling with their elbows linked. Then, it was Jonathan and Argyle, who left with a ‘goodnight dudes.’ When Eddie saw that it was just him, you, and Steve left, he sent you both a wink and strutted off with that mischievous grin on his face.
You didn’t really want to know what he was implying with that look.
“You tired?” Steve asked you.
“Not really,” you shook your head. “Would love to lay down in my sleeping bag, though.”
“Forgot weed makes you snuggly, babe.”
He’s right, it does, and you're resisting the urge to lean your head on his shoulder as he speaks. He stands before you can, grabbing a bucket to put out the fire and then leading you both to your tent with his flashlight.
It’s not long before you’re both in bed, facing each other and laying closer than you ever thought you would. The weed was mingling with your thoughts about the boy, the new feeling you got when he looked at you. You’re sure it was nothing. At least, you think you are.
“Hey Steve?” You speak softly.
“Yeah?” He’s laying on your side, facing you and you’re doing the same. He isn’t sure when your face got so close to his but he doesn’t mind. Not one bit. What is happening?
“Why’re you being nicer to me? Thought you hated me,” you’re being more honest than you would usually allow yourself to be, especially with him. “It’s confusing.”
His eyes roam your face, the color of your eyes and the way your hair fell over your forehead messily due to your position. He brushed it back, contemplating what he might say.
“I never hated you,” and he means it.
“Oh,” you don’t know what else to say. You’re surprised by his admission.
“Do you hate me?”
“I don’t think so,” you shake your head, correct yourself. “No. I don't.”
He realizes his hand is still pushing the hair from your forehead, and when he goes to pull it away you make some sort of sound in protest. He keeps going.
“I’m sorry that I judged you ‘cause of high school.”
Your eyes are closed, but he knows they’re probably looking sad, misty. He can tell you feel guilty, though he appreciates the apology, he doesn’t want you to be upset.
“I’m sorry, too.” He knows the dislike went both ways. He’s not so sure about that anymore, though.
You shuffle closer to him, letting your cuddling tendencies while high get the best of you and pushing yourself into Steve’s warmth. You tuck your head under his chin, the sleeping bag preventing you from using your arms. Instead, he frees one of his and wraps it around you.
You fall asleep with the smell of Steve surrounding you, bergamot, something woodsy, something sweet buried under the scent of weed that still lingers.
Your clouded mind doesn’t let you think about what this might mean, what might’ve changed in the short time you’ve spent at the campsite. Same goes for him. Steve’s content holding you for now, and worrying about it in the morning.
-
When you wake up, Steve still has an arm wrapped around you, though you’ve spun to face away from him. He’s close, his chest against your back and legs bracketing yours. You can tell even through the layers of your sleeping bags.
It makes your head spin.
You think maybe everything you’ve ever thought about Steve has been wrong—except for the fact that he’s pretty, you’re right about that—and it’s making you panic.
You lift his arm off of you as carefully as possible, just enough to slip out from under it. You wince when he makes some sort of sound of protest, his arm seemingly searching for you. You don’t want him to wake up now, you’re not ready to face him, really. You need to think.
Lucky for you, he finds your pillow and decides to cuddle that instead, remaining asleep.
You’re up before anyone else, catching the last bit of the sunrise and seeing the yellows and oranges give way to the blue skies of the day. You sit on the ground with your back against one of the logs used as a bench during campfires, your legs bent and your chin propped up on your knees.
The quiet is nice, nothing but the birds chirping and the wind rustling tree leaves. It allows you to try to figure out whatever the hell this camping trip has done to your relationship with Steve, if you could even call it that.
It seems that at some point during the short time you’ve been here, the hatred you thought you had for him had dimmed, changed into something more friendly, maybe. Though, you wouldn’t describe some of the thoughts you had about him recently as friendly.
You huff and drop your face so your forehead rests on your knees now. You haven’t figured one thing out. If anything, forcing yourself to think, to unscramble your thoughts, has only made things worse. Blurred the lines more.
It could’ve been minutes, or it could’ve been hours before someone else got up. That someone was Nancy, who simply walked over to where you sat, and took a seat next to you. She knew when not to ask, when to just be there. You’d known each other long enough for things to be easy like that.
When you turn your face to look at her she gives you that classic Nancy smile, close-mouthed and soft, and it tells you that she’s there, that it’ll be okay in the end.
In that moment, you believe it, and you rest your head on her shoulder.
-
Other than your inner crisis of the morning, the day is uneventful like the one before. You all head down to the nearby lake and laze around. You keep reading the book you brought, munch on the snacks Nancy packed up in a picnic basket, and even have a nap on the blanket that was lying beneath you.
You had an early morning, after all.
Steve couldn’t keep himself from sneaking glances at you all day. Though, maybe it doesn’t count as sneaking if both Robin and Eddie call him out on it. He doesn’t say anything to them, he doesn’t think he could even if he wanted to. He himself has no idea what’s going on.
All he knows is that you look really pretty when you sleep. Well, you look pretty all of the time, but there’s something about the complete serenity on your face, the way your cheek is squished against your hand and your hair falls around you messily.
When the breeze picks up, he uses the blanket he was sitting on to cover you. He doesn’t let himself overthink it in the moment, even if he knows he will later. He just wants you to be warm and comfortable.
Robin pulls him aside under the guise of wanting to grab something from her tent and fully believing in the buddy system. In reality, she wanted to try and knock some sense into him, because she knows she’ll be able to crack him sooner than she could you.
“Steve, you like her,” she tells him. Not a question, a statement.
“I don’t, Robin.”
“Oh come on! You won’t stop looking at her, you tucked her in for fucks sake!”
He only stares at her, unsure of what to say.
“How can you be so clueless about your own feelings? We can all see it. Me and Nance talked about it earlier, and she said she saw your lady really early this morning looking all troubled.”
“She’s not my lady. Jesus, Robin.”
“Of course that’s the part you choose to focus on, dingus. Means she’s confused, and so are you. I knew you guys didn’t hate each other.”
“Just ‘cause we don’t hate each other anymore, or whatever, doesn’t mean we like each other, either.”
“Can't wait to tell you I told you so later.”
With that, she heads back to the group, leaving Steve even more frazzled than he already was.
That morning, when he woke up holding your pillow, his face buried in it, he couldn’t ignore the disappointment he felt because of your absence. Hated that he inhaled deeply to catch a whisper of your perfume or shampoo on the pillow.
He also can't stop thinking about the conversation from the night before.
‘Do you hate me?’
‘I don’t think so…No. I don’t.’
He wonders if you really meant it. He hopes you did.
-
The two of you don’t talk again until you’re going to bed, back in the solitude of your shared tent. You’d been orbiting each other all day, round and round and never colliding.
You’re forced to talk to him when you climb into the tent, Steve already in his sleeping bag with a book propped open and a pair of glasses perched on his nose.
“Didn’t know you could read, Harrington.”
He peeks at you through his glasses, your face clearer than usual thanks to them. “I’m full of surprises, babe.”
You’re realizing that now, you think.
“And the glasses?” You gesture towards him with your hand, moving to sit down atop your sleeping bag when he replies.
“Got beat up one too many times, I think. Ended up with shit vision.”
“At least you look good in them,” you blurt out.
It’s true, he does look good in them. You think he’d look good in anything, really. The frames suit him, make him look softer in a way. Even though you mean it, you didn’t want to say it out loud. You hope he’ll ignore it for your sake and move on. He doesn’t.
“You think so?”
He sounds like he truly means that question, like what you think actually matters to him. It does matter to him. In fact, you’re the only person besides Robin who’s seen him with them on and he can’t help but feel nervous, insecure.
“Um,” you look at him. “Yeah, I do.”
You’re pretty, you almost add, but you stop yourself. You haven’t figured things out enough to say things like that to him right now. You don’t know if he’ll tease you for it, hold it against you, or if maybe he’ll keep looking at you the way he is right now. You hope it’s the last option.
His gaze is tender, but it leaves your skin burning. His eyes trail your entire body, down and back up until they’re locked on yours once again. He’s taking his time to see you in a way he hasn’t let himself until now. The color of your skin and the dips and curves of your body, the way your hair frames your face and the shine of lip balm on your lips. He closes his book, tosses it aside.
“They’d look good on you too,” it takes you a second to realize he’s talking about the glasses. He shuffles closer to you, takes them off and pushes them onto your face. “There.”
His fingertips brush the skin of your face when he pulls his hands away.
“Jesus, Steve, you got punched badly enough for this prescription?” You squint at him through his lenses.
He huffs out a laugh, small, but there. You want to make him laugh again and again. The thought scares you because you know that something is changing in how you look at Steve, that maybe it changed a long time ago and you were too busy mouthing off at him to notice.
“I think it has more to do with the number of punches, not their force,” he says. Then, “they look nice. The glasses, I mean.”
“Oh. Thank you.”
You take them off and give them back to him, he tosses them aside to where his book lays forgotten. He’s not so interested in reading anymore, anyways. Not when you’re here, not when you seem to be getting along well enough that he keeps looking at your lips.
Everything’s fucked. It’s all so different, like a tectonic plate has shifted in his mind and stirred it up, changed how he sees you. If only he knew the exact same thing was happening to you, too.
It’s quiet for a bit, sort of awkward. There’s something you know you have to talk about, but neither of you want to bring it up.
Steve seems to be the braver one in the moment as he starts, “listen. About last night-”
“It’s okay, Steve,” you cut him off. “If you didn’t mean what you said. I understand.”
“No! No, it’s not-” he cuts himself off this time, trying to find the right words to say. “I did mean it.”
“What parts, exactly?” You hate that you have to ask for clarity, but you need to know in order to feel less afraid about what you feel. If he was in the same boat, you’re sure it’d make you feel safer.
“All of it. The part where I don’t hate you, that I never did. The part where I’m sorry for how things have been between us until now.”
“I meant it, too,” you say after a beat, voice almost shy. “All of it.”
“Can we be friends?” He asks, though the way his sight keeps flicking from your mouth to your eyes to the way your pyjama top falls off your shoulder doesn’t feel friendly. No, it feels heavier than that.
You nod, “I would like that, Steve.”
You can smell his shampoo, his scent, and feel his body heat that’s become more familiar in the last couple of days than ever. When did you move so close?
He’s right next to you, your legs touching and facing each other and you can feel his breath tickling your lips, taunting you.
“Do you think maybe we can start being friends tomorrow?” He says.
“Why’s that?” You ask, though by the way his hand comes up to cradle your jaw, his thumb brushing your lower lip, you think you know exactly why.
“‘Cause I want to do some very unfriendly things to you right now if you’ll let me.”
“Okay.”
It’s the only confirmation he needs before he leans in, pushing his lips onto yours sweetly at first, just a peck. Like he’s testing the waters and making sure you won’t pull away. When he pulls back and you try to chase his mouth, that’s when he really kisses you.
This time, it’s messier, quicker. It’s heated in a way that has your stomach swirling and your thighs squeezing together. He licks into your mouth, fully tasting you and opening you up for him. It’s dirty, the way he slows it down so it’s languid.
It has you climbing into his lap to straddle him and pushing your hands into his hair to keep him close. It has you grinding yourself against him and letting a small whimper escape when he pulls your bottom lip between his teeth before diving back in.
You’re absolutely done for when he pulls back long enough to peel off his shirt and then kisses you dumb all over again, his hands on your waist urging you to move over him. He eventually takes your shirt off, too, but he doesn’t lean back in.
No, he’s completely taken by the sight of you and your lack of bra. Transfixed.
“Can I touch you, baby?”
That one’s new.
“Please.”
The word sparks him into action, and he can’t believe it just came out of your mouth and was directed at him. He thinks he must be dreaming, it’s all too good to be true. The feel of you against him, on him, all over him. The way your tits feel in his hands when he cups them and brushes his thumbs over your nipples, the hitch in your breath when he does.
“Fuck. You’re so pretty. So, so pretty.” He can’t stop himself from saying it.
”You’re pretty, too.” Your hands interlock at the back of his neck and pull him in to kiss you again.
It’s not much longer before he flips you over, grabbing a pillow to place beneath your head and letting his hips weigh yours down, pinning you beneath him with one hand propping him up and the other still busy at your chest.
Your hands trail down his back, feeling the muscles ripple and shift under his heated skin. He’s pushing himself into you, hard, giving you both a taste of the friction you’ve been needing. It’s not enough, though, and he knows it. He needs more, too, but he holds off to tease you, to hear you say please again.
He can feel your chest heaving beneath him, and he pulls away from your mouth to give you room to breathe. He moves his kisses to your jaw, down your neck, instead. He’s careful not to leave marks, but he’s greedy with you nonetheless, covering as much skin as he can until he finds that spot that makes you whimper.
His ear is right by your mouth when you do and he thinks he’s found his new favorite sound.
His kisses stray further south, and your hands push into his hair when he pauses at your chest, pecking across the swell of your tits before taking a nipple in his mouth. As much as he wants to, he doesn’t stay there for long. The way you’re squirming a little under him, pulling his hair tighter, tells him you need more and he decides he’s teased you enough.
“Can I?” He asks, sitting up enough to hook his fingers in the waistband of your pyjama bottoms and panties.
“Only if you take yours off, too.”
It sounds like a good deal to him, he’s straining against his boxers, and he really wants to see you. Taste you.
He pulls your bottoms off first, leaving you naked and waiting as he stands to take his pants off.
“Hurry up, Steve. It’s cold.”
He lowers himself to hover over you once again, “don’t worry, baby. I’ll warm you right up.”
Then, he’s making his way back down, a kissed path down your stomach until he’s laying between your legs. His hands run soothingly along the outsides of your thighs, hold them apart when you try to force them shut.
You feel shy under his stare, focused on where you’re wet and wanting. You seriously can't believe this is happening.
“You’re beautiful, okay? Don’t need to hide from me,” he punctuates his sentence with a sweet kiss to your inner thigh.
You don’t have time to say anything back because his mouth is on you, licking a stripe from the top up to your clit that has your eyes fluttering shut. One of your hands is back in his hair, the other searching for one of his and holding tight when you find it.
It’s not long until he has you moaning, your thighs now thrown over his shoulders. He’s groaning into you everything you buck up towards his mouth, encouraging you. He acts as if he’s enjoying it just as much as you are even though nobody’s mouth is on him. It makes it that much hotter.
You don’t think you’ll ever be able to look at him without thinking of what he’s capable of making you feel after this.
“Steve,” you whine.
He pulls back to look at your face, the pinch between your brows telling him you need more. “What is it, baby?”
“Please.”
“Gotta tell me, pretty girl. Use your words.” He knows he’s teasing you but the reaction it’s getting him is too good to stop. The way you whimper when he licks at your clit only to pull back before you can even process it.
“Your fingers, please,” you say it quietly, but he lets it slide.
He uses the hand that isn’t still holding yours and brings two fingers to your entrance, circling it and getting them wet before he pushes them in slowly.
Steve doesn't think he’s ever felt this way with another person. He's so invested in making sure you’re comfortable, so taken by how you look and how you sound. He’s so completely lost in you and this and he doesn’t want it to end.
His fingers are moving steadily, finding that spot inside you that has your toes curling. He keeps going until he feels you squeeze around his fingers, his mouth back on you, though his eyes stay on your face. He knows you’re close when your head falls back, when you moan louder than before, when your thighs tighten around him.
“Is that good, baby?” It’s a rhetorical question, but he wants to hear it from you.
“Yeah, Steve,” you breathe out. “Really close.”
“Go on. Come for me.”
You don’t know how, but his words draw your orgasm out of you. It’s intense and has you laying back down, your head digging into the pillow and your hand squeezing his tight.
He doesn’t pull away until you push his head lightly, needing a minute to regain your bearings because of him. You don’t know how he can be so good, make you come in a way you didn’t think was possible. And he still looks as pretty as ever while doing it, his mouth and fingers wet with you.
You think your eyes almost roll back into your head when he sucks his fingers clean.
Steve Harrington really is a menace, just maybe not in the way you thought.
Your legs fall from his shoulders when he moves back up to your lips, kissing you slow and steady. It’s grounding, in a way. Brings you back to him and clears whatever remaining haze was there from your orgasm.
You can feel him hard against your lower stomach as you kiss, and you reach down to grasp him in your hand, stroking him slowly. He moans into the kiss when you do. You utter his name against his lips, he pulls away and rests his forehead on yours in response.
“Yeah?” He’s breathing heavy, his voice coming out breathy and rough.
“Fuck me.”
His hips buck into your hand when he hears the words come out of your mouth.
The hand holding him guided him down to your entrance, and he takes over from there. He holds a hand by your mouth, “spit.”
You do, and he uses it to lube himself up, and pushes in with his elbows on either side of your head, blocking out anything that isn’t him. Once he’s buried all the way, your legs wrap around his waist, urging him to stay close.
The first thrust is slow, almost painfully so because you can feel every single inch as he moves. He’s big and the stretch is just enough to make your eyes water, just enough to have you moaning again.
“Holy shit, Steve.”
“I know, sweet girl. You’re doing so good.”
“Faster, please.”
He complies, his rhythm picking up and his mouth finding the spot on your neck he discovered earlier. It’s all-consuming, the way he touches you, the way he fucks you. It’s as if the rest of the world has melted away and all you can sense is him. His smell, his skin against yours, the way he moves inside you.
You tug him by the hair back to your mouth, letting him swallow your moans. He savours every single one, adjusts his hips every time one is louder than the rest.
Somehow, he can tell when you need more from him, like he’s learned your body completely even in the short time he’s had it. When he knows it this time, he sits up so he’s on his knees, takes one of your legs and sets it on his shoulder so he can move deeper, better.
“You feel so good, babe. Fuck, can’t believe you’ve been right in front of me for so long.”
It’s like he can’t control what comes out of his mouth anymore, all he knows is that you feel incredible, that you’re beautiful and he wants to break down every single wall that’s been put between the two of you. He wants to know you.
It doesn’t take much longer for your second orgasm to build up, your hands bunching up the fabric of the sleeping bag for something to hold onto. When Steve takes a hand and pushes it against your lower stomach, asking, “can you feel me, pretty. Right there,” that’s when you hit your peak again.
You’re a mess, moaning his name over and over as he fucks you through it all. When you’ve come down, Steve isn’t far behind you, his thrusts sloppier and small moans escaping him.
“Can I come on you, baby?”
“Fuck, Steve. Yeah.”
He pulls out, jerking himself off until he comes over your stomach, all but collapsing next to you when he’s done. Your heads on the same pillow and pants leaving your mouths. Steve searches the tent for his boxers from before, using them to clean the both of you up the best he can.
You’re still sticky and sweaty when he covers you both with his sleeping bag as if it’s a blanket, but you don’t mind. You want him to stay close, you think.
“You’re really pretty,” he says quietly. “I definitely do not hate you.”
You giggle, push yourself closer to him, your face at his chest. “I feel a lot of things for you, I think. Hate isn’t one of them.”
His heart swells at your words. He doesn’t think you’ve ever been so candid with him and he treasures it.
“Where have you been hiding this sweet girl, huh? ‘Cause I really like her.”
“Shut up,” you deflect.
“Just being honest. Let’s sleep?”
“Yeah, let’s sleep.”
You find that Steve’s embrace feels familiar now, letting his arms come around you and pull you close. You think that his lips on your forehead in a goodnight kiss is something you might need every night.
You also think you’ll have a slight panic about all of this tomorrow. But, for now, you let yourself fall asleep, safe and satisfied.
-
When you wake up, Steve’s already outside, and you can hear the chatter of your other friends, too. You figure it’s later in the morning, that Steve let you sleep in.
You can't believe what happened the night before, half convinced it was a dream until you notice that you’re still naked. You don’t regret it, you only wish it didn’t cause so much confusion in your head.
You really do want to be friends with him, though, now you’re not sure if that’ll be enough. If you might want more than that.
Once you get up and ready, and the day begins, you keep your distance from him. He seems to be doing the same. It’s not that you’re upset with him, it’s just that you’re scared of how much has changed in so little time and you need to process it, to let yourself solve the puzzle in your mind.
The only thing Steve had said to you that morning was while passing you a plate of breakfast he seemed to have saved for you. “We’ll talk later?”
You nodded and that was it.
It’s the afternoon when the group of you head towards one of the hiking trails, water bottles and granola bars packed in your bags. You all smell like sunscreen, thanks to Nancy going mom mode on you all.
The sun beats down on your shoulders as you walk, only quick moments of shade provided by the trees that you pass. You know that by the end of it you’ll all be sweaty and sticky, but it’s a nice trail, with a view of the lake peeking through the trees.
Argyle stops to look at every plant he deems ‘peculiar’ including mushrooms, he forces Jonathan to look at them, too. Eddie is humming a guitar solo the entire way, he says it’s the soundtrack to your adventure. Robin picks flowers along the way, putting one in everyone’s hair—two in Nancy’s.
As for you and Steve, you hang back a couple of steps behind the group, walking alongside each other. You don’t talk, settling for a comfortable silence. A mutual understanding that there is something to discuss, just not right now.
Every so often, your hands will brush, and you’ll glance at each other shyly before looking away again.
You’re about halfway through the trail when a tree root gets in your way. You happened to be looking away at the moment, Steve laughing at Robin’s joke caught your attention. You trip over it, your ankle rolling painfully as you fall with a small yelp.
Steve notices first, and he crouches down next to you. “Shit. Hey, you okay?”
“Yeah, fine,” you try to brush it off, even with tears gathering in your eyes.
Everyone else comes to see if you’re alright, too, and you hate all of the attention. You know they mean well, but it’s embarrassing.
“Can you stand?” Robin asks.
Steve holds out his hands to help you up, and he catches you when the pressure on your ankle is too much and you almost fall again.
“Guess that’s a no,” Argyle says. Jonathan gives him a light slap for it.
“I’m fine, guys,” you urge, though you’re clinging to Steve to help you stay up. “Just give me a minute and we can keep going.”
“Absolutely not,” Steve says firmly. “We gotta take care of that ankle, babe.”
Just as you’re about to protest, Nancy cuts in, “he’s right, it’s kinda swollen.”
“There’s a first aid kit in the van,” Eddie adds.
You’re frustrated that you’ve ruined the walk for everyone, and you cover your eyes with the hand that isn’t holding onto Steve to hide the fact that you are now crying. You’re in pain and humiliated and there are too many eyes on you.
Steve can tell, so he says, “you guys keep going, I’ll go back with her.”
They agree, and Robin gives Steve a look that tells him she knows exactly how he feels even though he’s not one hundred percent certain. When he hears you sniffle, his attention doesn’t stray anymore.
“I’m sorry,” you say between your crying.
“None of that. Was getting bored anyway.”
You try your best to gather yourself, wiping at your cheeks and eyes roughly. Steve pulls your hand away and does it for you, he’s much more gentle. The two of you stay put until you’ve stopped crying, and Steve doesn’t let go of you through any of it.
“I’m gonna carry you, okay?”
“No, I can walk, Steve. I swear.”
“Shut up and get on my back,” he leans down enough so you can hop on, in position for a piggy back. Your arms hold onto his shoulders, trying not to choke him, and your legs are around his waist. He holds you by the thighs and begins the descent very carefully.
His hands on you feel all too familiar now. You know what they do in intimacy, how they move and squeeze at your skin, your thighs. Almost like he’s doing now, though the situation and intent is much different.
Again, the walk is spent in silence apart from the sounds of your breathing and Steve’s footsteps.
Once you’ve made it back, he sets you down so you can sit on one of the log benches by the fire pit, and he goes off to Eddie’s van with a promise to be back soon.
You discover that he’s good at keeping promises, as he’s back before you really noticed his absence. You think he might have ran there and back and that thought has your heart skipping a beat in your chest. He’s good at taking care of people, you think. The way he knew how to calm you down, how he offered to carry you, and how he takes your injured leg in his hands so carefully you almost melt. He tugs your shoe and sock off, apologizing when you say a small ‘ouch.’
“There should be a tensor bandage in here somewhere. I’ll wrap you up real good, I swear.”
“I trust you, Steve.”
He thinks those words hold a lot more weight and meaning than just wrapping your ankle, and he files it away in his mind to think about in the future. He can tell you don’t trust a whole lot of people, and he feels special that you do him. His lips curve into a soft smile.
He kneels on the ground in front of you, first aid kit open at his side and your foot propped on his knee. He wraps it slowly, fully focused on making sure he does it right because he doesn’t like the thought of you hurting. He hates it, actually.
He knows things have changed drastically since you’ve been here, and he knows they won’t ever be the same. He only hopes that the outcome is good.
You watch as he works, eyes focused on the way his hands move and hold you so softly. With nobody else around, you allow yourself to relax around him, to let your eyes linger.
When he finishes, he presses a small kiss to your ankle over the bandage. If kisses had healing powers, you think you’d be all better after that.
You don’t know how or why your feelings for him seem to have shifted so much, all you know is that any trace of hatred you had towards him has disappeared, wiped away to make room for something else. Something fonder that could be described using four letters and might have been around much longer than you thought.
“Thank you,” you say as he sets your leg down and moves to sit next to you.
“No problem, babe,” he pauses before continuing. “Do you want me to take you home today? I bet Eddie would let me take the van.”
“No!” It comes out more panicked than you wanted it to, but you really didn’t want to go home. You’d be happy staying at that campsite forever, because you hadn’t thought of your parents since you left until now. “I mean. No, I'd rather stay. Thanks though.”
Steve knows something’s wrong, that your relationship with your family may not be the best. He’s suspected it ever since your reaction to his comment about you always hanging around Family Video. He wants you to know he can relate.
“Do you wanna talk about it?”
You shrug, “not much to say, really. Just don’t like being home.”
“You can stay with me, you know… If you ever need to. My parents aren’t really around anyways.”
You lean your head on his shoulder, giving him some silent support. “Thank you. You’re kind of a great guy, Steve.”
“Only kind of?”
He turns his head towards yours, and you do the same. You’re close enough that you could lean forward ever so slightly and you’d be kissing. You think about it, he does too.
Steve breaks the moment first, though. He wants to kiss you, he really does, but he doesn’t want it to be in this grey area the two of you are stuck in. He wants it to be real, and to know exactly what it’ll mean.
“Why don’t I find you some ice for that ankle, huh?”
He squeezes your knee and stands, not waiting for a reply.
-
The rest of the day passed quickly, the group coming back from their hike and showing you polaroids they took of the view for you, Steve fussing over you every time you went to walk on your own.
Before you knew it, it was time to head to bed. Steve helped you walk over to your tent despite your insistence that you could do it yourself, “I’m going there anyways,” he said.
You simply huffed and let him curl an arm around your waist to give you some support. Maybe to have an excuse to touch you, too.
Steve left while you got ready for bed, even though he’d seen it all before. He still didn’t know where you stood and wanted to be mindful of that. As he walked back to the tent after a few minutes, he geared himself up to start some sort of conversation with you. The intent melted away when he saw you, though.
You weren’t usually a crier, but as you tried to get comfortable, you bumped your ankle against something and pain shot up your leg, sharp and sudden. You were sitting up when he came in, knees bent and your face buried in them, and your hands clutching above the bandage.
The tears fell before you could stop them, the frustration you felt and the flare up in your injury bubbling and spilling over. You heard the zipper of the tent’s entrance slip open, and you knew it was Steve, but you didn’t really want to look at him.
You hated crying, it made you feel embarrassed, and the softness in his brown eyes would only make you cry harder because you never had anyone care that much about you being upset.
“Hey,” he starts, sitting next to you. “What’s wrong, baby?”
“Hurts,” is all you manage to get out.
One of his hands rubs up and down your back soothingly, the warmth seeping through your shirt. His other hand reaches to where yours are holding your leg, prying them away gently and grasping it himself.
You lift your head to look at him, shy under all of his attention.
“You tired?” He asks.
You nod, and he urges you to lay down, so you do. He wipes away your tears for you yet again once you’re settled on your pillow. He reaches for his pillow, lifting your leg and placing it under your ankle to keep it elevated.
“Steve, you need that. What’re you gonna sleep on?”
“Got some sweats I’ll bunch up, don’t you worry. You need that more than I do, ‘kay?”
“You’re really sweet.” You say quietly, already much more comfortable than before. You don’t know if it’s the pillow he’s placed under your foot or if it’s simply Steve’s presence that makes you feel that way.
He does as he said, digging for his sweats and balling them up to use as a pillow but you stop him by saying, “you can just share mine.”
You scooch over until half of your pillow is empty, leaving room for Steve to lay down next to you. He’s careful as he does, watching where he puts his legs so that he won’t bump your ankle. He lays on his side facing you, wondering whether it would be okay to reach out and hold you.
He does it anyways, figuring you’d tell him to get off if you didn’t want him to. His arm slips out of his sleeping bag to hold your waist. You turn yourself towards him as much as you can while keeping your foot in a good position.
You find yourself getting sleepy a lot faster with him near, and it’s odd. Less than a week ago you were convinced you hated the boy and now… Well now you felt something far from hatred.
You never thought you’d even become friends with Steve, let alone whatever the relationship between you is now.
“Thanks for taking care of me today, Steve.”
His hand pulls you a little closer, “no worries. You’re a great patient.”
You breathe out, a hint of a laugh that would be there if your eyes weren’t so heavy.
“Do you think this is weird?” You ask. You’re not specific but he knows you’re referring to you and him and the lack of arguments.
“It’s different, but I’m happy. That we can actually talk now, that you don’t hate me.”
“Me too. Cuddling is also nice.”
Neither of you bring up the kissing, or the sex, but the thought of it lingers. It hovers over the two of you constantly, waiting to be brought up.
You fall asleep soon after, barely noticing the pain in your ankle anymore.
-
The next day was your last full one of the camping trip. So, naturally, everyone was together for it all. There wasn’t room for a conversation with Steve about the serious stuff which you didn’t mind all that much.
You were nervous to know what he thought. Did he even want you, or was it just a heat of the moment thing? Does he only want to be friends, or did he feel more than that?
You’d rather float in the unknown rather than hear that he didn’t like you the same way. Because this was new to you. You never had a boyfriend, never wanted one, either. And then Steve Harrington just had to make you feel so much for him. Things you didn’t know how to deal with for so long that your instinct was to act like you hated him. To convince yourself you did.
You weren’t ready to go home, to go back to reality. You were scared that you and Steve would revert back to how it was before, the dirty looks and the comments and the mask of dislike. You didn’t even want to think about going back to your house or your lousy job.
Though you didn’t have time for any serious chats, Steve would find ways to check in on you, to ask if your ankle was bothering you at all. He even rewrapped it for you when he noticed you struggling with it.
As day turned to night, the sun swallowed by the horizon, you all spent time packing up the site so it would be quicker to leave in the morning. Everything apart from the tents and what you needed to sleep was cleaned up and packed into Jonathan’s car.
Once more, the most talking you and Steve did was before bed, in the bubble of your tent.
He shared your pillow like the night before, held you the same way, too. He couldn’t stay away from you no matter how hard he tried. Steve found himself making excuses to come up to you during the day, asking if you needed help even though he knew you didn’t, checking on your ankle even if he had already done it ten minutes ago.
“What do you think is gonna happen when we go home?” You ask.
“You mean with us?” He checks, and when you nod, he takes a moment to think before continuing. “I want to be your friend, I meant that. I also think that there might be more? Maybe. I just don’t want to rush things with you,” he says the last part quieter than the rest.
“I do, too. Think there could be more. I’m scared, though.”
He reaches a hand to hold your cheek, his thumb brushing back and forth.
“I know that a lot has happened in the last couple of days, but I think we could be something. Don’t you want to give it a try?” He asks you, his face close enough to yours that you can feel his breath on your lips.
“Yeah, I do.”
You know that you’ve barely scratched the surface of what you really feel. You’re ninety nine percent sure that you love him and you know he deserves to know that. You’re just not ready to say it, and you want to give yourself time to see what things will be like back in Hawkins before you do.
He nudges his nose against yours in response, waiting to see if you’ll pull away before leaning in to kiss you. It’s slow, languid and you know it won’t lead to anything more but you cherish it all the same.
You try to pour what you can't say into it.
Steve couldn’t hold himself back anymore. He’d been wanting to kiss you ever since the last time and it was as if the rubber band of his reserve snapped when you said you wanted to try with him. Deep down, he’s a romantic and he wants to show you that side of him.
He figures kissing you the way a lover would is a good start.
-
The next morning was a whirlwind of packing what was left, making sure nothing was forgotten, and taking the tents down. It was a lot of yells back and forth and stuffing cars as full as you could.
The energy was down, everyone slightly bummed to be heading back to reality. You were especially bummed about going home. You never realize how much you hate it until you’re gone. You also worried about what would happen with Steve, how things would play out.
On the drive home, everyone sat in the same spots. Though, this time, Nancy and Robin stayed a lot closer, hands intertwined and smiles a bit brighter. It seems you and Steve aren’t the only ones who felt a shift while you were away. Maybe there really was something in the air, something that wasn’t as heavy as things felt in Hawkins.
You ended up falling asleep again during the drive, the crack of the music through the van’s speakers making your eyes heavy. You’re lucky nobody let Eddie play his music or else you surely wouldn’t get a nap in.
You’re the first one to get dropped off and Steve can’t help but worry. From the very small amount of information he’s gathered about you and your family, he knows you don’t like being around them. He wishes he could shield you from it all, how odd is that?
He’s pretty damn sure he loves you, actually.
That’s why when Eddie pulls into your driveway he offers to wake you up and help you grab your things. It’s why he’s gentle when he does so, getting out of the car and opening your door.
“Hey, babe,” he shakes your shoulders gently. “Wake up.”
You do; you’re a light sleeper. You rub your eyes tiredly and when you blink them open the first thing you see is Steve. It’s a nice sight to wake up to.
“Mmm, hi.” You say, stretching your arms.
“Hey, we’re at your place,” he tells you.
“Okay.”
You climb out of the car, thanking Eddie for driving and saying bye to Robin and Nancy. Steve grabs your bags for you and walks you to the porch. He goes to help you inside but you stop him.
“It’s alright, Steve. I’ve got it,” you take your bags from him. “Thank you.”
“Don’t mention it,” he’s quiet for a moment, glancing at your door before adding, “you’ll be okay? I meant it when I said you could stay with me, you know?”
“I’ll be fine. Promise.”
You smile at him shyly, not quite sure whether you should hug him or just go inside. You wait to see what he does, but he has his hands in his pockets, rocking on his feet.
“Okay, I’ll head inside. Bye, Steve.”
“Bye, babe,” his hand brushes your arm as you go inside.
Back in the van, everyone looks at Steve like he’s an idiot. And, well, maybe he is only this time he doesn’t understand why. He looks out the window for the rest of the drive.
He knows your parting was awkward, but he didn’t want to scare you off by kissing you or doing something in front of the others when you had only become friendly a few days ago. He wasn’t used to having things move so fast, or to having them feel so strong, so vivid.
When he gets home, the house is empty. He can’t help but feel like it’d be much brighter with you in it.
-
You’d been back for a week and nothing major really happened between you and Steve. You weren’t sure if the conversation was forgotten, if it didn’t actually mean anything. All you knew was that you definitely loved him and it was scary.
You didn’t let yourself feel things like it so often, and it was hard for you to admit it, but you were in love with Steve. It’s why it made it almost harder to be around him than it was when you thought you hated him. You didn’t know how to act, what to say.
When you weren’t working, you still visited Family Video, though now when you and Steve would tease each other it would end in smiles and laughs, not someone storming off.
Things were sort of awkward, too. Neither of you knew if you should touch, or kiss. Neither of you wanted to be the one to ask, either. You were constantly tip-toeing around each other, never fully diving in even though you wanted to.
He called you somethings, too. Late at night when your parents would be asleep. You’d always pick up right away, ‘cause you waited for his calls, sitting in your bed with a hand next to the phone just in case. He’d always ask you how you were doing, remind you that you were welcome at his place. He once said he missed sharing a tent with you, that he wanted to see if sharing a bed would be the same.
It’s the boldest statement either of you had made since your return.
Despite the actions not being there, the feelings never left. Steve would stare at you when you visited him and Robin at work, distracted from tasks and practically hypnotized. Where he used to watch you with red hot anger, it’s turned into a rose coloured haze. A pair of heart sunglasses.
It’s not until you finally take up his offer that you’re alone with him.
Your parents were being their usual selves, only somehow it was worse, more amplified. You couldn’t stay in that house anymore, so you packed a backpack, snuck out your window, and walked all the way to Steve’s house. It wasn’t too bad of a walk. It gave you time to clear your head.
Steve was actually about to call you when he heard a knock on his door. He wasn’t expecting anyone, and he couldn’t stop himself from hoping it was you. Then, he opened the door and there you were, looking pretty as ever with a backpack on your shoulders and an apology in your eyes.
Before you could even say anything, he ushered you inside.
“Hi, babe,” he grabbed your backpack. “You okay?”
There was a softness in those brown eyes that warmed you from the inside out, that made you feel like everything would be okay as long as he was around. God, love makes you so gooey inside it was gross.
“Yeah, well, not really. Can I stay here?”
“‘Course you can. Anytime.” He holds a hand out for you to take, and when you do, he squeezes your fingers.
He holds it all the way up the stairs to his room, setting your bag down at the foot of his bed and sitting on the edge of his mattress. He pats the space next to him for you to join.
“Thanks, Stevie.”
Stevie. He’s only ever had people call him that teasingly. Mostly in high school and he didn’t like it then. He much prefers it coming out of your mouth.
“Don’t need to thank me,” he says, reaching to tuck a stray strand of hair behind your ear. “I’m happy to have you here. I, um, I’ve missed you.”
He’s had a hard time opening up to people romantically since what happened between him and Nancy. He’s not sure how, but you make it easier. You make him feel like it’s okay to be more open, to let the walls around his heart crumble.
“I missed you, too,” you say.
“C’mere,” he moves up to sit with his back against his headboard, and pulls you into his lap, your legs on either side of his. It’s not in a dirty way, not at all. Rather, it’s for the comfort that can only be provided when having someone you love is that close to you.
He winds his arms around your waist and pulls you in for a hug, yours going around his shoulders, face turned into his neck. You indulge yourself in his smell and his arms and his warmth. You push a small peck into the skin just below his ear before pulling back enough to see his face.
“I needed that, I think,” you say.
“I really fucking like you,” he says, his head tilting back to rest against the headboard with a thump.
It’s like he couldn’t stop the words from coming out anymore. He’s been thinking it for too long without being able to say anything, and he’s done waiting, he thinks. He knows he loves you and as terrified as he is, he won’t let that feeling go ever again.
“Really?” You ask.
“Yeah, really,” he smiles at you, shutting his eyes for a second before looking at you again. “Listen, I know things have changed crazy fast, and I know that we’ve really only just started to get along but, I love you. I have for a long time, I think.”
The butterflies in your stomach are set free, a smile breaking out on your face because this is what you’ve been waiting for since the trip that changed everything.
“I love you too, Stevie,” you say, pushing the hair off his forehead as if it’s a reflex; without thought. “I think I just convinced myself I hated you ‘cause I was scared.”
“Gave is an interesting story, don’t you think?”
“Mhm,” you hum.
He leans in to kiss you then, tender and smooth the way that only couples do. Full of love and emotion, your bottom lip between his. It’s the fluff and sweetness of the best kind of pink cotton candy. It melts on your tongue.
Steve pulls back when your smiles break the kiss, leaning his forehead against yours.
“I think this could really last. You and me,” he tells you. He says it quietly, like it’s a secret for your ears only. A confession; he’s thought about this, the future.
“You do?”
“I mean we already had our first fight like forever ago. And our second, and our third, and our fourth, and-”
You cut him off putting your hand over his mouth, “okay! I get it,”
You can feel him smiling against your palm.
༄
if you enjoyed please reblog, it would mean a lot!
summary: steve harrington is down horrendous for you, his best friend. his love is not as unrequited as he thinks.
contains: best friends to lovers, mutual pining (but mostly steve pining), steve’s pov, fluff galore, idiots in love, reader is good with the kids, reader is a skater like max, reader hurts her wrist and steve is a worried lovesick idiot. cw! descriptions of wounds/blood, mentions of hospital, reader wears steve’s clothes. she/her pronouns used.
a/n: first long fic yay!! I am extremely proud of this so pls love it 🤍
fem!reader 5.3k words
gif by @barneswayne
Steve Harrington is totally, most definitely, not in love with you. Just friends, he thinks, best friends. Best friends who hold hands and sit far too close together.
Speaking of, you push further into Steve’s side, your scent washing over him. Your hand squeezes Steve’s, and he thinks, never mind. Maybe he is in love with you. So in love with you it fucking hurts.
A chorus of shouts erupts around him. You and Steve are watching Eddie, Robin and the kids play beer bong, only without the beer. It’s soda. Dustin starts doing a stupid victory dance while half of his peers laugh and the others cringe. Steve cringes. You laugh. All high and lilting and adorable. Steve has to remind himself to breathe.
He brings your joint hands to rest on his knee. Your rings push into his skin, almost like harsh reminders that he can’t hold you like he wants to. He frowns.
“Steve?” Your voice brings Steve out of his thoughts like it always does. You give his hand a shake. “You okay?”
Steve looks up and prays you can’t see the hopeless devotion in his eyes. You’re the prettiest girl he’s ever seen, with your messy hair and your eyes lined with glitter. Rosy cheeks, glossy pink lips that he stares a beat too long at. He’s known you for years, and yet he’s never gonna get used to how gorgeous you are. He swallows, forces his eyes up to yours.
“I’m okay,” he says, though he’s really not. He never is, because you never won’t look like that. “Are you?”
There’s another explosion of noise from the soda-pong players, but you don’t seem to notice. You frown like you don’t believe him. He’s being too obvious, he knows.
“Yeah, I’m good. Are you sure, Steve?” You stretch your free hand across your torso to touch his face. Steve heats like an oven under your hand as you press your palm to his forehead. “You’re not feeling sick, are you? You feel sort of hot.”
Steve grabs your wrist, harder than he means to. He loosens his grip guiltily when you give him an alarmed look.
“Sorry,” he says quickly, lowering your hand gently. He can feel your pulse, only just, underneath his fingers. It’s damn sure slower than his. “I— uh, no. I’m not feeling unwell. It is pretty hot in here though.”
A total lie. The only reason he’s burning up is you.
Your frown deepens, a push of your bottom lip that makes Steve want to kiss you. It’s such an overwhelming feeling that he has to blink multiple times to make it go away.
“Oh,” you say. You look around the room and then back at Steve. “Do you want to go outside?”
Steve has a bit of a dilemma. If he says yes, he’ll be alone with you. He can’t tell if that’s a good or bad thing. If he says no, he’ll have to stay in this stuffy room with yelling teenagers and ping pong balls flying at him every five seconds. He decides on the first option.
“Sure,” he says as nonchalantly as he can. Then, to make you laugh, “Smells like boy in here anyway.”
You giggle. Steve feels like copying Dustin’s lame victory dance.
“You’re a boy, Stevie,” you say teasingly.
He wrinkles his nose at you. “No, I know, but it’s like … adolescent boy.”
You laugh loud, your mouth pulled up in a staggering smile. “Oh, okay,” you say, as if anything he just said made any sense.
Steve is starstruck for a second before you’re pulling him up from his seat, your hand in his a familiar, heart-aching weight.
Steve finds himself sitting side by side with you on the hood of his car. He can’t exactly remember how he got here — on the way, all he could think about was your hand in his and the fact that your thumb kept brushing over his knuckles in very distinct lines. Whether you’d meant to or not, he doesn’t know. He hopes you did.
“Any better?” You ask quietly, stretching your pinky across the small gap between your hands to tap his.
Steve feels something like an electric shock where your skin touches his. It baffles him, how such a tiny touch can cause such a big reaction throughout his body. He stares at your hand when he answers.
“Much,” he says honestly. He looks up at you. “You didn’t have to come with me, you know. You can go back in if you want.”
Secretly he hopes you’ll stay here with him forever. But that would be selfish, and if Steve is anything when he’s with you, it’s not selfish.
“Eurgh, no.” You pull a disgusted sort of face that makes Steve grin. “I could barely stand it when you were there. Without you, I think I’d die from the smell alone.”
Steve laughs. Really laughs. The words without you, I think I’d die, float around his brain like fish in a fish tank. When he’s done laughing he catches your smile, all pretty and wide, and his heart does one of those funny backflips that he’s never gonna get used to.
Steve watches as you brace your hands on the edge of the car and push yourself up the hood, pulling your shoes up to rest on the metal. Your skirt is short enough that Steve can see half of your thighs, more when you shift yourself like that. He stares for two seconds too long and then feels so guilty he almost apologises.
Instead, he says, “Aren’t you cold?” He points at your skirt but doesn’t look.
You shrug. “No, not really.”
With a sigh you let yourself fall back against the hood of the car. Your skirt rises even more and a half inch more of your skin is exposed — Steve feels like the universe is out to get him. His only escape is to fall back next to you, his right shoulder brushing your left one. You smile when he does, head rolling to the side to look at him. Face to face now, Steve can feel every small breath coming from your parted lips.
“See any stars?” He blurts, because your face is much too close and he’s scared if you look at him like that any longer, he’ll kiss you stupid.
You look up at the dark, empty sky and wrinkle your nose. “No.”
“Wait, look, there’s one.” Steve lifts his arm to point at what he thinks is a star.
You squint in its direction. “That’s a plane.”
“What? No it’s— oh.” He trails off when he realises the ‘star’ is moving. It disappears behind a cloud a second later.
You laugh, breathless and pretty, and drop your head onto Steve’s shoulder. Your perfume fills the air around Steve and he has to stop himself from leaning closer. You bring a hand up to fiddle with your necklace, a cheap, plastic ‘S’ charm that sits directly on your sternum. The fake diamonds are falling off, half of them gone already, but you’ve refused to take it off after all these years. Steve has one of your initial, too. You got them from a dollar store when you were twelve and pinky promised to be best friends forever.
You slip your necklace safely beneath your top and then stifle a yawn behind your hand.
Steve gives your elbow a nudge. “Tired?”
You shrug one shoulder and then droop further into Steve’s side. Every point of contact between you burns.
“You’re tired,” Steve says matter-of-factly.
You make a noise that’s probably meant to be a sound of protest but comes out more like a tired moan. Steve chuckles lightly, reaches over and rubs your arm.
“Alright, sweet girl. Let’s go home.”
‘Home’ really means Steve’s house, because you’ve left your car there and because you’re over so much it’s become your second home. By the time Steve is pulling up the driveway, you’re so dead beat he doesn’t even consider letting you drive yourself home. You practically hang off his waist as he walks you both inside.
“M’tired,” you mumble as you pass the living room.
Steve has to bite back a laugh. “Uh-huh, I can tell.”
You look up at him and squint like you know he’s laughing at you. Then you say, “Can I sleep in your bed?”
Steve’s heart skips. Sure, you’ve slept in his bed before, but every time you have Steve lay awake for at least half the night. He’s not above admitting that he’s watched you sleep more than once. He’s seconds away from telling you to take the guest bedroom when you pout dramatically.
“Please? You’re so warm.” You push into his side, your arm tightening around his waist like you don’t ever want to let go.
Steve hates himself for nodding, but he can’t help it. “Yeah, okay.”
He drags you up the stairs and into his room. Your makeup and stray jewellery is strewn across his dresser — you’d gotten ready at Steve’s before the party. If you could even call it that, Steve thinks. He plants you on his bed and you fall back immediately, eyes shut tight as your hair splays across the sheets.
“You’re like a zombie,” Steve says amusedly, his gaze all fond and mushy as he looks down at you. “From like, Day of the Dead or something.”
You pull a face, faux offended but your big grin gives you away. “Ew. I’m not that ugly, am I?”
Steve hums long and high like he’s thinking about it. This makes you gasp and throw a hand to your chest like he’s wounded you. Before Steve can get half a laugh out a pillow is hitting him straight across the face.
“Hey!” He exclaims, glaring at you. You’re still lying down, eyes screwed tight like you’re pretending you didn’t just brutally attack Steve. He laughs because you’re fucking adorable. “Zombies don’t throw pillows, Y/N.”
Your words are plagued by a yawn as you say, “This one does.”
Steve sighs at your antics, picks up your murder weapon (his pillow) and replaces it on the bed.
“Oh no,” you groan suddenly, like you’ve remembered something awful, hands flying to your face in despair. “My makeup, Stevie. M’too tired to take it off.”
Your words stick to each other like taffy in your tired state. Steve remembers the last time he let you sleep in your makeup. He didn’t hear the end of it for days. He’d rather avoid your wrath this time round.
Steve sighs, knowing full well he’s about to put his foot in it. “Well, will you let me do it?”
You open one eye blearily and look at him. “Would you?”
Steve shrugs, though the thought of being that close to you makes him feel nauseous. Luckily, you’ve closed both eyes again so he can blush all he wants. Plus, he’d do anything for you. Even endure the overwhelming urge to kiss you breathless.
“Sure thing, babe. I’ll get the stuff.”
Steve ends up sitting on his bed with you across from him, crossed legs pressing up against his. You’re sitting so close you’re almost in his lap. He ignores this for the sake of his dignity.
You’ve got your eyes shut and your hair up in a clip. A lock of hair has tumbled out of its knot and Steve pushes it away from your face, fingers hooking behind your ear and lingering. He keeps his hand on your jaw as he raises his other hand, a wet cloth ready to clean your sparkly makeup off.
“You sure about this?” He asks hesitantly. He’s dead terrified he’ll do something wrong, like get glitter in your eye.
You smile softly, your eyes staying firmly shut. “Yes, Steve, it’s fine.” Your tone is half reassuring and half exasperated.
Steve bites the bullet and goes right in, pressing the wet cloth to your cheekbones first. You’ve got blush and glitter there, sprinkled on your cheeks like fairy dust. He smooths the cloth along your skin and it comes away sparkly and pink.
“Okay?” He asks, pausing worriedly.
You nod slowly, your head starting to droop in his hand. “Yeah, Steve.”
Steve grins fondly at your face, screwed up in exhaustion. He tightens his grip on your jaw to keep your head steady, thumb hooked under your chin. Carefully, he begins to dab at your eyelids, also painted with silvery glittery eyeshadow.
Your face dewy and makeup-free, Steve thinks you’ve never looked prettier. So pretty it drives him mad. He stares, really stares, for far too long but he’s worried if he opens his mouth, breaks the silence, he’ll never get to see you like this again. Your hair all messy pretty, your eyes shut and eyelashes kissing, your pink lips turned in a half smile.
He’s not surprised when your soft voice drifts into his thoughts.
“You done?” You open your eyes, eyelids heavy and head heavier.
Steve snaps out of it. He lets go of your face quickly, slides off the bed even quicker.
“All done,” he says, almost tripping over his own feet.
You smile, seemingly oblivious to his clumsiness. Or maybe, it’s just happened so often that you’re not surprised. Either way, your smile is sickeningly sweet. Steve is torn between the desire to kiss you or run as far away as possible from you.
Your voice matches your honey-smile when you say, “Thank you, Stevie.”
You reach out to touch his forearm, your hand a heavy weight on his skin as you wrap your fingers around his arm and squeeze.
He grins lopsidedly, and he’s sure he looks like a lovesick idiot but he can’t find it in himself to care. “You’re welcome.”
You drop your hand and Steve’s arm suddenly feels cold as ice. He wants to touch you again but knows he shouldn’t. He strides to his bedroom door and pauses to turn and look at you.
“I’m gonna get you a glass of water,” he says. Your eyelids are drooping again. He laughs fondly. “Get in bed while I’m gone, zombie-girl.”
Your giggle follows him all the way to the kitchen.
When Steve gets back, a glass of water in each hand, you’re still as a statue on your self-appointed side of the bed. You’ve swapped your outfit for a grey t-shirt that you totally stole from him but deny every time he asks about it, and the shortest shorts known to mankind.
He switches off the light and shuts the door with his heel. Pointedly avoiding looking at your bare legs, he rounds the bed and sets the water down, then bends over you.
“Y/N?” He whispers.
You hum softly, though Steve can’t tell if it’s a hum of acknowledgement or just a sound you’ve made in your sleep. He leans closer, listening to your breathing. You’re awake, only just.
He brushes his hand over your upper arm, touch as light as a feather. He thinks he feels goosebumps on your skin but doesn’t have time to wonder why. You’re lifting your chin slightly, lips parted.
“Goodnight, Stevie,” you whisper, so quiet he barely hears you. Steve’s heart swells. “Thanks for … everything.”
A few moments later you fall silent and your breathing grows steady, and Steve wonders how the hell you always fall asleep so fast.
He rubs your arm, kisses your forehead because he knows you won’t remember this part. His lips buzz as he pulls away. “Goodnight, sweet thing.”
-
You’re outside Family Video. Steve emerges from the back room and spots you so fast it’s like he’s got a third eye. He’s both shocked and pleased — he hadn’t expected to see you until after his shift.
You’ve got the kids with you. You and Max are zooming around the carpark on your skateboards while Dustin and Lucas are poised on the hood of your car, poring over comics.
He watches you skate with Max. Like some lame rom-com cliche, your hair is blowing in the wind and Steve swears you’ve moving in slow motion. You’re laughing and joking with Max and Steve stares and stares. Stares until Robin sidles up next to him.
“What’re you— oh.” Steve can hear the smirk in her voice even though he refuses to look at her. “What’re they doing here?”
Steve shrugs and makes an ‘I don’t know’ sound, moving to the counter to put down the box of videos he’s carrying. Robin follows.
“You’re not gonna go say hi to Y/N?” Robin asks slyly. Steve can hear in her voice what’s coming. “You’ve been staring long enough.”
Steve blushes furiously despite himself. “I wasn’t staring.”
“Oh, sure.” Robin hoists herself onto the counter, peers into the box of videos and picks one out at random. “Just like you weren’t holding her hand on Tuesday night?”
Steve can’t exactly get himself out of that one. He snatches the video from Robin with an annoyed tsk, slotting it back into the box. Her laugh is devilish.
“You are hopeless, Steven,” she says, whacking Steve over the head as she hops off the counter.
Steve rubs his head and glares at Robin. If looks could kill she’d be dead meat. “That’s not my name.”
Robin gets this look on her face that Steve knows all too well. He wants to pummel her before she’s even said anything.
“Oh, sorry,” she says, all sarcasm. “What is it, then? Stevie?”
Steve’s blood boils. Only you’re allowed to call him that.
“Y’know what, Robin?” He says loudly. He turns on his coworker, seething. She’s totally nonchalant, a stupid smirk on her lips. “Why don’t you just leave me—?”
“Steve!”
A shout of his name from the door. He turns and finds Lucas standing there, looking panicked.
Steve’s brow furrows. Then he notices you and Max are no longer whizzing around the carpark. “What—“
“Y/N fell,” Lucas says, out of breath. “We think she hurt her wrist.”
Steve’s heart drops. “Shit.”
He goes flying out the door and into the parking lot. You’re sitting on the concrete, one knee pulled up to your chest, your skateboard dormant next to you. Max is kneeling over you, and Dustin has graciously abandoned his comics for your sake.
“Y/N!” He damn near shouts. He runs over to you and Max and gets on his knees. He’s probably just ruined his jeans on the concrete — he doesn’t give a single fuck.
“Y/N,” he says frantically, a tentative hand landing on your shoulder. Both your knees are scraped something awful and a nasty gash blooms on the outside of your wrist. Steve’s worry is loud and his heartbeat twice as much. “Y/N, are you okay? What happened? What’s—“
You look up. Your eyes are shining but you’ve got a dopey smile on your lips.
“Steve,” you say breathlessly. You blink and a tear falls from your eye and over the bump of your cheek. “Hi. Good to see you.”
Steve stares at you in horror. How can you be making jokes at a time like this? You laugh wetly and Steve looks at Max, totally alarmed.
“What happened?” He demands.
Max is much calmer than he is. “She went over a bump or something,” she says. She’s rubbing your back and Steve feels a rush of gratitude for the younger girl. “Fell on her left arm. Her wrist might be sprained or broken, but—“
“Broken?” Steve repeats. He’s pretty sure his soul just left his body.
“I said might,” Max says through her teeth.
“Y/N?” Steve slides his arm around your shoulder, carefully avoiding your left wrist, which you're cradling in your uninjured hand. “Y/N, baby, can you get up?”
You make a noise like a scoff but it’s muffled by your sniffly nose. “‘Course I can.”
Steve helps you anyway, Max on your other side keeping a firm hold on your jacket. You hiss as you straighten your legs, knee-wounds sprouting fresh blood. Steve bites down on his lip so hard he almost bleeds himself.
“Are you gonna take her to the hospital?” Max asks. There’s genuine worry in her eyes that Steve barely sees. Dustin, Lucas and Robin appear, looking equally worried.
Steve puts on a brave face. “Think so. What do you think?” He asks Max. “You’re the skateboard expert.”
She grins so quick Steve almost misses it. It disappears when she looks at you in your bloody and bruised state. “Yeah. Just in case.”
Steve walks you over to your car, half dragging you. Not that you need him to, he just can’t bear for you to hurt any more than you already are. He deposits you in the passenger seat, ducks his head in to pull your seatbelt across your torso. He’s seconds from ducking back out when you stop him, your uninjured hand on his chest, right over his racing heart.
“It hurts,” you say, quiet enough that only Steve can hear. Your eyes are welling up again. Steve feels like crying himself.
“I know,” he says, nodding vigorously like it will make a difference. “I know, sweet girl. It’s gonna be fine. You’re gonna be okay.”
At this point he’s talking to himself as well as you. You nod in an exhausted sort of way and Steve presses a kiss to your cheek. Slow and soft and as close to your lips as he’s ever kissed. He has to take a few seconds to compose himself before straightening up and turning to the others.
“I gotta take her,” he says, sending an apologetic grimace in Robin’s direction.
Robin nods once and surprisingly, doesn’t say a word. She looks about as sympathetic as Steve has ever seen her. He turns to the kids.
“Help Robin,” he says. He’s trying desperately to make his voice sound normal but falling short of the mark. Everyone notices but nobody comments. “Don’t mess up the store.”
He gives a grateful smile to Max and then rounds the car, hopping in and starting the engine.
-
You’re half asleep on Steve’s couch, your head in his lap. You’re wearing his yellow sweater — the one he bought only because you’d said he’d look good in yellow. You’ve just woken up from a post-hospital nap and Steve’s hand is in your hair, brushing slow strokes over the side of your head.
He’s feeling a lot of things. Relieved, for starters. The doctor had said it was only a sprain, they’d bandaged up your wrist and you’d left the hospital in far better conditions. Steve was in far better conditions, too.
Steve looks down at you, at your bandaged wrist and the huge bandaids on your knees and thinks, fuck. He thinks his heart is about to claw its way out of his chest. He doesn’t think he can take this love thing any longer.
You stir and take a long breath, turning your head in Steve’s lap to look up at him. Your eyes are tired but you’re smiling.
“You okay?” Steve asks softly. He doesn’t want to break the silence. It feels good, to sit in silence and comfort with you. He runs his fingers through your hair again.
You nod. “Mhm. I’m good.”
“Hurting?”
You shift in his lap. “No, not right now.”
You fall silent and Steve doesn’t know what to say. He wants to tell you how worried he was about you, but you could probably tell. Anyone with a pair of eyes could tell he was nauseous-level worried. Then he thinks about telling you he loves you. It’s a stupid reason, really, but it was all because a nurse had asked if he was your boyfriend. He’d wished he could say yes.
“Steve?”
Steve hums and meets your eyes. You move to sit up and Steve helps you, knowing you won’t let him stop you. A firm hand between your shoulder blades, his palm sliding down your back as you straighten yourself. You shift so you’re facing him, your legs crossed beneath you and your injured wrist resting in your lap. Steve is careful to avoid your wounded knees.
“What is it, babe?” Steve asks quietly. He brings his hand up to caress your cheek, dragging his thumb over a spot where your tears had smudged your mascara earlier.
You melt into his hand, eyes falling shut as a long, deep sigh falls from your lips. You raise your good hand to cover his, holding it to your face. Your hand burns stars onto the back of his.
“Is it your wrist?” Steve asks. You’re acting strange. He puts it down to your injured state. “Your knees? Do you want more ice? New band-aids?”
He’s being a total worrywart, he knows, but who can blame him?
You shake your head, eyes open but cast down. “No.”
“Just feeling bad?” He asks through a frown. In a strange parallel to a couple of days ago, he lifts his free hand to press his palm to your forehead. You feel warm but not hot.
“It’s …” you start, then trail off. Both yours and Steve’s hands fall to your lap.
Steve’s concern spikes. You’ve never been one to hide anything from him. “Yeah?”
“Um, it’s … it’s silly but—“ You take a deep breath and let your eyes raise to Steve’s. You get a look on your face Steve doesn’t quite understand, but it makes his heart leap to his throat anyway. “You know today, when that nurse asked us if you were my boyfriend?”
Steve laughs embarrassedly, too loud and too sudden. So you’d been thinking about that, too. He pulls his hand away from your lap and rubs the back of his neck.
“Yeah, that was kinda weird, wasn’t it?” He says, though it wasn’t really. Almost every new person he meets thinks you’re dating him. “I was—”
“I wanted to say yes, Stevie.”
Steve stops talking abruptly, his mouth slamming shut. He hadn’t really known what he was about to say, anyway. He searches for words but all he comes up with is a garbled, “What?”
You laugh, all soft and slow and distorted by fatigue. You raise your hand to rub your neck, a mirror of Steve only a moment ago.
“I wanted to say yes,” you repeat, like it’s obvious. Even the second time, Steve doesn’t believe what he’s hearing. His chest feels like it’s on fire, worse when you say, “I want you to be my boyfriend.”
For once in his life, Steve has nothing to say. He gazes at you like you’re some sort of angel on earth. Maybe he’s dreaming. Maybe he’s in some cruel dream and he’s about to wake up with his chest aching.
“I …” Steve‘s voice catches on the words. His throat burns so he mustn’t be dreaming. He tries again. “Y-You … you do?”
He’s not even embarrassed by the stuttering. Just when he didn’t think he could be any more in love with you, you giggle. He was dead wrong. His heart grows about three sizes too big for his chest.
“Yeah, Steve,” you say, fondness smothering your fake exasperation. “Do you … do you want me to be your girlfriend?”
What Steve wants is to kiss you. He wants to kiss you til you can’t breathe and then some more after that. Silently, he takes your injured wrist in his hand and gently shifts it so it’s out of the way, resting on the couch cushions. Then he grabs your face, fingers splayed over your jaw and neck. He can feel your pulse. It’s almost as quick as his. He leans so close he can hear every breath you’re taking.
“I’m going to kiss you now,” he whispers, his lips ghosting over yours. “That okay?”
You laugh a giddy, breathless laugh, surprised at his suddenness. “Please do.”
He slams his eyes shut, darts forward to kiss you and fucking misses. Your noses bump. A surprised giggle bubbles from you and Steve goes red.
“Wait, I’m sorry—“ He tries again, tilting your head to one side and angling his head to the other. This time it works perfectly, and your giggling is swallowed up by Steve’s mouth, lips fitting together like they were made for each other.
You sigh and go all melty and Steve’s heart skyrockets. It feels like everything in the world is falling into place. It’s years of longing, eternities of lingering touches and offhand compliments and longing glances all rolled into one life changing kiss. Your good hand has jumped to Steve’s chest, first bunched in the material of his t-shirt and then spreading over it, palm atop his wild heart. He thinks he might die on the spot. Or like, catch on fire or something.
Steve is losing breath but he won’t stop just yet. He drops his hands to your shoulders and pulls away a hair’s breadth. Then he dives back in for one, two, three kisses that you respond to with all the eagerness in the world. Your kisses are so lovely they make him light-headed.
When Steve pulls away (for oxygen, nothing less) you chase his lips with yours. He laughs, all fondness. He’s dizzy with love.
“Woah, hold your horses, cowboy,” he says through a woozy laugh. He’s finding it hard to speak. He barely hears himself. For all he knows, he’s talking in an alien language.
“Sorry,” you whisper, not sounding very sorry at all. “So … was that a yes?”
Steve has to laugh. He can’t help it. “Are you kidding? Yes, Y/N. That was a yes. I—“
He’s rudely interrupted by someone banging on the door. He thinks he knows who it is. Only one person he knows knocks that hard.
He sighs morosely but he can’t keep the grin off his face for very long. “I’ll get it.”
He heaves himself off the couch and makes for the front door. You stop him before he gets very far, a hand in his bicep.
“Wait, Steve.”
Steve turns, puzzled. “Yeah?”
You’re lifting your chin up, lips parted. Steve knows exactly what you want.
His grin grows impossibly wider as he bends at the waist to kiss you once, chaste and slow and just as perfect as the kisses shared moments ago. When he pulls away you’re smiling so big he’s worried you’ll get stuck like that forever. He wouldn’t mind.
Another round of banging from the door. Steve sighs, squeezes your good shoulder once and then marches to the front door, just about ready to kick the intruder off his front porch. He opens the door and finds his suspicions were correct. It’s Dustin.
He’s holding a handful of flowers that look suspiciously similar to the ones that grow in Steve’s mom’s garden.
“Those for me?” Steve asks. He shoots his arm out to stop Dustin from barging in, hand gripping the door frame.
Dustin pulls a face. “Ew. No, they’re for Y/N.” He steps aside and more kids appear, plus Robin and Eddie. Eddie’s van has been parked haphazardly in Steve’s driveway. “Can we come in or are you gonna stand there and guard the door like that all night?”
“She’s tired.”
“But we bought chocolates.”
“Well—“
“Dustin?” You call from the living room. Oh, great. Now Steve’s gonna have to let them in. “S’that you?”
Dustin beams and gives Steve an expectant look. Steve drops his arm with a defeated sigh and Dustin goes marching in like he owns the place. Max, Lucas and even Mike follow. Mike, who never shows up to anything. Though Steve shouldn’t be surprised. You’re Mike’s favourite, out of the older ones.
Eddie comes next, then Robin, who stops to give Steve a grimace.
“Sorry,” she says wryly. “They really wanted to see her.”
Steve shrugs good-naturedly. He’s on cloud nine and much too happy to care all that much. He follows Robin into the living room and finds everyone crowded around you, Max on your side and Dustin getting down on one knee to present you the probably-stolen flowers like you’re the Queen of England. You look the same as Steve feels — kiss bitten and with your head in another world. But you’re pleased by the company, he can tell.
Dustin moves to give you one of his bone-crushing hugs and Steve goes all panic mode.
“Please be careful with her!” He says urgently, his panic obvious under the usual demanding tone he takes with the kids.
But you’re laughing under Dustin’s hug, and Steve can’t stay mad when you look like that. You meet his eyes over a mop of curly hair and your gaze goes all mushy and sweet. Steve’s legs feel like jelly. If he keeled over dead right now, he wouldn’t be surprised.
He’s sure someone will see but he doesn’t really care. Grinning from ear to ear, he mouths, “Love you.”
He’s said it before, of course he has, you’re his best friend in the whole entire world. This time though, it’s all the more different. It’s better. You flush, oblivious to the noisy chatter around you.
“Love you too,” you mouth back.
Steve can’t stop smiling for the rest of the night.
thank you for reading! feedback is appreciated!! reblog this and I’ll kiss you on the mouth mwah
Idk if you're still doing that prompt list but "sick" or scenario 13 with Steve would be 🥹🥹
i wasn't going to do it anymore, but...reading those prompts gave me an idea so i decided to try ♥ i kinda mixed them together
[SICK; Trying not to look but helping them out of their clothes when they’re physically unable to, both of them so close together. ]
"Steve," you had called, worry eating at you. Halfway to the front door, he'd turned and looked at you over his shoulder. And so, even though you knew the answer, even though you hated the answer he would inevitably give you, you'd asked, "Do you have someone to take care of you?"
And that's how, you remind yourself, you ended up where you are now — moments away from helping him out of his clothes.
The thought seems alarming, but there's nothing romantic or sexual about it.
Or at least there shouldn't be.
"Here," you say, touching the hem of his sweater with shaky hands, hoping he doesn't notice your inexplicable uneasiness. "Let me help you."
Steve lets you. He's a much better patient than you are a nurse, you think. But the reason you're here, helping him out of his uncomfortable clothes so he can hopefully catch some sleep is pretty valid: he's broken his right arm, and as if it wasn't bad enough there is also a cut on the left side of his abdomen, just below the ribs, big enough he'd needed 8 stitches to close it.
In his defense, the car crash hadn't been his fault.
The sweater is gone after what seems like an eternity of careful movements and apologies at every slightest hint that Steve was in pain (although he'd assured you the whole time that it's okay, it's okay, I'm fine), but in the end, you're successful. How the people at the hospital had managed to get those clothes on him so quickly is an absolute mystery to you.
You breathe a sigh of relief, a small burden lifted from your shoulders. You don't even have to look to know that Steve is beaming. The fact that he is so calm through it all is even more maddening to you.
Next up is his t-shirt.
The cycle of nervousness starts all over again when your fingers find the hem of his shirt and you start to lift it up, exposing a small sliver of skin, then a bit more...
Steve says your name and it's the first thing he says after many minutes of being silent, so you lift your head to look at him without a second thought.
"Breathe," he says, certainly not without kindness but with an unmistakable amount of amusement in his tone as well.
He's too close. Almost nose to nose, a hairsbreadth of distance between your face and his.
And yes, as much as it bothers you to admit it, Steve is right — you were holding your breath without realizing it.
He bites his lip to hide a smile. "That's not funny," you chide, though you're trying to contain your own smile.
"You're nervous."
"You had eight stitches and broke an arm."
"Sorry."
"It wasn't your fault," you say, because it wasn't, although he probably isn't apologizing for that specifically.
Steve always drives carefully and responsibly, most likely because there's almost always one of the kids in the backseat of his car. The problem that caused the accident was some malfunction in the car, something you hadn't quite understood because all you could really think about since you found out that Steve had crashed the car was him; if he would be okay, if you'd be able to see him, if he'd be in pain. Most of the explanations got lost on the way from your ears to your brain.
"I meant I'm sorry for calling you," says Steve, and for the first time he sounds serious, almost embarrassed. "From the hospital. They tried my parents first, but they-"
"-are idiots," you say, with more contempt than you probably should let on. Then you realize how rude that probably sounded like. "Sorry, I-I shouldn't have said that. They're still your parents and-"
To your surprise, Steve laughs — a low, small chuckle that barely lasts a second, and even so it's enough to make him wince, probably feeling pain. Fortunately, it passes quickly. "No, no, you're right. I was going to say they're out of town as always, but you're right. They are idiots."
You smile.
The feeling that took over you the moment you'd arrived at the hospital to see Steve and realized that he was there, alone, was indescribable. He was alone in there as if he had no family. As if nobody cared about him.
Maybe it was for the better that his parents didn't show up until now, you think. You're not quite sure what you would have said or done if they had appeared in front of you.
Great. Now there's a lump in your throat.
"I'm sorry."
"It's okay," Steve would have shrugged if he wasn't injured, you're sure. "I'm used to taking care of myself, it's no big deal."
"Well, you can forget about that," you say firmly. Because I'm going to take care of you from now on, you hope he understands.
He doesn't say anything. It doesn't seem like he's able to, you realize. But, in his silence, Steve understands; he understands so well that he cannot express his gratitude in words, his affection. He hopes that you will be able to read it in his eyes.
Back to your task, you take a deep breath, looking away from his face to where your hands are gripping the fabric tightly. You help him pull his shirt over his head very slowly, very carefully.
If Steve feels any pain, he doesn't let it show. It wouldn't be the first time, but you hope it's not the case, hope he's not in pain anymore, that he feels he can be vulnerable in front of you. Everyone needs to be at some point.
There's not much else to look at than Steve's now exposed chest, although you do your best not to stare. The flush creeping up your cheeks betrays you, though, and now there's only one piece of clothing remaining.
Steve is wearing jeans. You can't sleep in jeans, can you?
"You don't sleep with a shirt on, do you?" you ask, wondering if he'd like something else to wear.
"No," he says. "No pants either."
Your mind freezes for a brief second. Probably not your brightest moment. "Do you want me to- I mean-"
You're far from a doctor, but it doesn't seem like a good idea for him to bend over to take off his own pants when he's had that many stitches.
"Are you asking me if I want you to take my pants off?" Steve is making a huge effort not to smirk, you can tell.
How can he be so relaxed?
Somehow what comes out of your mouth is, "I promise I won't look."
"I don't mind if you do."
A shiver runs down your spine and you feel what can only be described as butterflies in your stomach, something wonderful and unnerving at the same time. Your gaze meets his and you try to sound convincing as you say, with your chin held up, "Stop messing with me, Harrington."
"But I like messing with you."
"Oh my God-" you let out something between a sigh and a small laugh. "I hate you."
"You love me."
And then, it's like your mouth works on its own.
"I do," you find yourself saying.
And, as expected, silence follows. Steve looks shocked. This silence seems to last a lifetime, to stretch out impossibly longer — it's an everlasting torture. You didn't mean to drop the l-bomb on him like this, didn't mean to say the words even though you knew them to be true. He probably did too, but hearing it out loud is a different thing entirely.
Steve's mind is a mess.
Did you mean it as a friend? he wonders.
Did you mean it as something else?
Did you mean it at all?
Then…
Does it change how I feel?
No.
"I love you too."
Unlike you, Steve sounds firm, certain. Like it's a decision. Like he is ready for it to change everything between you two or nothing at all if that's what you want.
"I would do all of this for you too, if you were in my place," he continues…and then he frowns, as if something unpleasant just occurred to him. "Actually, please never be in my place- I don't even want to think about you in pain. Okay?"
thinking about steve flirting with you in the hallway, he’s got you pressed gently against his locker, arm perched just above your head so that you’re boxed in, and he’s smiling, because he’s always smiling when he looks at you. he’ll stoop his head to whisper something in your ear, and when you giggle — because of the ridiculous nature of it all— he’ll pull back just enough to look at how you sparkle.
not before pressing a kiss to your cheek; brushing his nose against yours, though.
“steve! stop! please, i surrender!” you squealed as he sprayed you directly with the hose, soaking entirely.
“oh yeah? you surrender?” he teases, aiming at your face.
you nod, screaming and giggling, hunching over and panting when he relents. he opens his arms for a hug, pulling you in and kissing your head in apology, still laughing to himself.
you just shake your head, ducking out from under his arms to get freezing cold payback.
“oh you’re so gonna regret that!” he screams as he chases you once more.
to fireplace ashes
christmas was always hard for steve, but luckily he had you to spend it with. sitting infront of his parents huge fireplace. a present behind both of your backs and smiles on your faces.
the fire crackled as you fought for who got to open first, him winning and your present forced into your lap.
a sweater you’d stole from him countless times and some records to add to your collection. you kissed him silly before sitting back on your heels and gently placing the wrapped box in-front him.
he smiled softly, nervous, before carefully taking off the wrapping.
a canon camera.
“it’s so when we go off to college, you can take pictures so i can see my boy.”
his eyes glossed over and he pulled you into him, laying on floor.
christmas station on the radio and ashes beside your heads.
i waited ages to see you there
red cup in hand, corner holding you away from the party.
he promised he’d come find you.
2 hours ago.
you’d began to give up searching for him when you spotted him in the kitchen, surrounded by his friends.
you squeezed through, pushing past couples and rowdy friends. you screamed his name, trying to get his attention over the loud music. instead he and his friends turned away, heading outside, seemingly not hearing you.
you huffed, trying to get past but being pushed back into a corner.
god you hated these parties.
i searched the party of better bodies
finally getting through the house and out the front you sighed, patting you pockets for keys when you remembered steve had them.
one loud sigh and you were searching for him in the backyard.
you saw him just outside the pool, cigarette between his lips and drink in hand.
“steve, can we go home?” you had his hand in yours, lips by his ear so he would understand you.
but he shook you off, laughing loudly.
“god, why are you so clingy? go get a drink or something and chill out for once in your life.” it felt harsh, kick in the gut as his friends laughed.
“just give me the keys.” he dropped them in your hands, his friends ‘whispering’ when you walked away.
“why are you even dating her?”
“nancy is so much hotter.”
“so uptight, you should totally dump her.”
and to hear him not say a thing, watching as you pulled away.
PLEASE STOP TAGGING STEDDIE/BYLER POSTS W RONANCE AND LUMAX TAGS BC IT IS ANNOYING AND SOMETIMES I JUST WANT TO READ JUST RONANCE HEADCANNONS OR JUST LUMAX HEADCANNONS!!!!! LIKE IDC AB THE PARALLELS BETWEEN BYLER AND LUMAX, I JUST WANT CUTE LUMAX CONTENT!
summary: after dinner with steve's parents goes terribly, you let him know everything will be okay; based on a kiss prompt: an "everything will be okay" kiss
wc: 2.5k
warnings: shitty parents, sad steve, but fluff to fix it!
a/n: lol so this was supposed to be a blurb, and it got out of control! i hope you like it!!
Masterlist
Steve was silent as he unlocked the door, tossing his keys with a bit too much force onto the table just inside your entryway. He kicked his shoes off, the toes of them thudding into the wall, one of them leaving a small scuff mark on the paint that you’d have to remove later. You’d gone to dinner with his parents, and to no one’s surprise, it had not gone well. His dad had started in on him immediately, berating him for the millionth time about not going to college, for having a shitty job and a shitty apartment, for refusing to work with him at his company — the list went on and on. Steve’s hand on your knee was the only thing stopping you from blowing up at his dad; you knew it’d only make the situation worse, and didn’t want to do that to Steve.
You’d never liked his parents, his dad more specifically. They turned your sweet, affectionate, and bubbly Steve into a shell of himself — quiet and reserved, eyebrows pinched together, shoulders stiff. He’d tried to keep any semblance of emotion — namely, the pain — off of his face, but you knew him better than that now. And as much as he tried to shrug off his dad’s comments, you knew they got to him.
Following suit, you stepped into your small apartment with Steve and closed the door behind you, making sure to lock it. Your own shoes came off, much more carefully than his had, and you shrugged off your jacket, hanging it up before turning to Steve. You called his name softly, catching his forearm in your warm palm, tugging at the cuff of his jacket, “Let me hang this up for you, bub.” He let you help him out of his jacket, placing a soft kiss to your cheek as a thank you, though no thank you of any kind was necessary.
There had been tentative plans for a movie night for the two of you, but now you weren’t sure if Steve would be feeling up to it. The question was on your lips as he turned to you with a half-hearted smile, “Still want to watch a movie?”
“Sure,” you nodded quickly, wanting to do whatever would help him relax and get his mind off of the awful dinner, “I’ll start the popcorn if you wanna go change into something comfortable.” You’d met his parents at a fancy restaurant, calling for your nice, but uncomfortable, clothes. Steve nodded and placed a soft peck to your lips in parting, and then made his way to your bedroom.
The popcorn was barely halfway done when Steve padded into the kitchen to find you. He’d done a quick change, swapping his nice pants and shirt with a pair of sweatpants and his favorite hoodie. It was obvious he’d also taken a few seconds to brush out the gel that had been in his hair; it looked softer now, and a few pieces hung loosely in his face. Your favorite part, though, had to be that his glasses were now perched on his nose. Steve didn’t wear them often, even though he needed them, but you loved how he looked in them, and told him so every time. You couldn’t help but grin when you saw him, “Hey, handsome. You look comfy.”
“Definitely better than that stiff shirt and tie,” he grumbled, crossing the kitchen and stopping just behind you, a warm hand settling against your hip. “I’ll finish this, you go change, too, baby.”
When you re-emerged from your room, in your comfiest clothes stolen from Steve, you found him on the couch. The popcorn was piled impressively high in a bowl, and there was an open bottle of beer sitting next to it, however it looked like it hadn’t been touched. Steve looked frustrated as he banged the remote against the palm of his hand, trying to get it to work as he muttered a soft, “God dammit.”
Not wanting to startle him, you murmured a soft “hey” and then dropped onto the couch next to him. “Want me to try?” you asked, holding your hand out for the remote.
He placed it in your hand after a moment and then slumped back into the couch, arms crossing over his chest. He was still abnormally quiet, and it made your heart ache, but you didn’t want to pry and force him to talk if he didn’t want to.
When you couldn’t get the remote to work either, you went off in search of some new batteries, and after rummaging through some drawers to find the right size, you returned to the living room, the remote and new batteries in hand. “Hey, I think I found the right size, but—“ you stopped mid-sentence as you turned the corner to find Steve in a new position. He was leaning forward again, his elbows resting on his knees, and the heels of his hands pressed into his eyes. “Steve?”
Steve’s head shot up, sniffling once as he shook his head, as if trying to clear his thoughts. His hand pushed through his hair to get it out of the way, as he attempted to plaster a smile onto his face. When he spoke, his voice was rough like he was shoving any emotion back down, “Did you find some?”
You ignored Steve’s question as you set the objects you were holding onto the table, and then settled onto the couch next to him carefully. Your hand slid across his back, hand curving around his shoulder to pull him into you, voice delicate, “C’mere, baby.”
It was enough for Steve to finally crack. He let out a ragged breath, shoulders shuddering as he slumped into your embrace. Your hand quickly came up to cup the back of his head gently, twisting your torso so Steve could press his face into the crook of your neck. He let out a strangled gasping noise that broke your heart into pieces, and you could feel a few tears soak into your skin.
Smoothing a hand over Steve’s hair, you used your other hand to rub gentle circles over his back. You stayed quiet, aside from an occasional “I’ve got you,” wanting to let him get it all out. You’d only seen him cry a few times, and while you appreciated that you were the one of the only people he let himself be vulnerable like this with, it broke your heart. Especially when it was something like family issues. Something he shouldn’t have to deal with.
After a few moments, Steve let out another uneven breath, his breath hot and wet against your neck as his hands twisted into the fabric of your shirt at the sides. The tears had seemingly stopped for the moment, an angry huff escaping his lips. Your hand continued rubbing along the length of his spine, up and down, again and again, and you sat quietly with him, knowing he’d talk when he was ready. He sighed again, releasing his grip on your shirt, bringing his hand up to wipe a thumb over your wet skin, “‘M sorry, I—“
“You have nothing to apologize for,” you quickly cut him off, shaking your head vehemently. You kept your hand placed on the back of his head, fingers sifting through the soft strands slowly. Pressing a kiss to the top of his head, you murmured, “It’s okay.”
“I just…” he lifted his head from where he’d pressed into your neck, eyes squeezing shut, jaw clenched tightly as he shook his head with a pained laugh, “I hate how they make me feel. Every single time. Like I’m not good enough, and I never will be.”
Your heart dropped to your stomach, and you couldn’t help the frown that tugged at the corners of your lips. You hated knowing that he ever thought of himself in that way, even just for a second, because of his parents of all people. His name slipped out of your mouth, pain marring the tone of your voice, “Steve. Baby, you know that’s not true, right?”
It took a second, but Steve gave you a short nod, though he kept his gaze low, not wanting to make eye contact with you. His teeth were practically tearing his bottom lip up, “Mhm.”
His answer wasn’t convincing enough, far from convincing, really, and you shifted so that you could take his face into your hands. Cupping his jaw lightly, you pulled his chin up, being as gentle as possible, so you could look him in the eye, “Hey. Look at me, baby.” After a moment, you cracked a small smile as you added, “Feels weird to be the one saying that.”
This caused Steve to smile, the tiniest bit of a genuine smile, as his eyes met yours finally. He let out a soft snort, shaking his head as a light blush crept up his neck, “Shut up.”
You grinned, feeling pleased with yourself for at least making him smile, if only for a moment. Your thumb brushed out over his cheek gently as you refocused the conversation, “Seriously, though. I need you to know that what your parents think… it doesn’t mean shit. They don’t know anything about you, baby.”
Just as quickly as it had appeared, the smile dropped from Steve’s face, shoulders sagging. His voice was quiet, barely above a whisper as his eyes met yours, “I’ve never been good enough for them. ‘M always a disappointment.”
“Oh, baby,” you murmured softly, eyebrows creasing together as you pushed your fingers into Steve’s hair and out of his face. “Just because your life doesn’t look like what they planned for you doesn’t mean you’re a failure. Joke’s on them for trying to plan anything in the fucked up world we live in. And, quite frankly, if they really care that much, they should’ve been around more to show it.”
Steve’s long lashes kissed his cheeks as his eyes fluttered closed, leaning into the touch of your hands on his face with an almost imperceptible nod. He was really considering what you were saying, and you hoped it was sinking in, if only a little. When he opened his eyes again, a new anger was lit in them, “And the shit he said about you a-and us—“
At one point, his dad had implied that yet another one of the reasons Steve was a disappointment was because he couldn’t fully support you. To his dad, it was embarrassing that you lived in a tiny, somewhat rundown, apartment, and even more embarrassing that you paid for half of it. If only Steve would come work for him, well, then everything would be better. You could get a nicer place, and you wouldn’t have to work.
You’d been unable to stop yourself from audibly scoffing then, and you did the same now, “I hope you know I don’t care about that shit. Anywhere with you is home. And all of that was incredibly sexist, honestly. As if I need you to take care of me, like I couldn’t survive on my own.”
“I know,” Steve cracked another smile at that; he’d thought he was going to have to hold you back at dinner. You’d looked like you were honest to god about to jump over the table, and as much as he would’ve liked to see that, it wasn’t the time or place. His eyes met yours again before he tilted his head forward, pushing his forehead into yours lightly, “Thank you.”
“What for?” Your nose nudged into his as you placed a soft peck to the corner of his mouth.
Steve lifted his shoulders into a shrug, “Just… for being here. And supporting me. Helping me see that my maybe my parents are wrong.”
“No,” you shook your head quickly, wanting to set the record straight, “they are wrong. They just are. You’re amazing, Steve. And if they can’t see that, that’s on them.” One side of Steve’s mouth quirked up as he hummed quietly in response before he returned a soft kiss to your cheek.
With a hand still tangled in the hair at the back of his head, you shifted your position until your back was against the arm of the couch, and you slid down a bit to be laying a bit more. Your free arm slung around his shoulders, pulling Steve’s top half down until he was laying on top of you, cheek pressed to your sternum. He seemed to be feeling at least a little better and figured he wouldn’t argue with some cuddles for the rest of the night.
When he didn’t complain, you bent your knees slightly to hug Steve’s torso, fingers stroking through his hair repeatedly in the way you knew he liked. His eyes were closed again, but he looked more at peace this time. “You, Steve Harrington, are more than enough. You’re kind and funny and caring and smart and brave. You do more than enough for the people you love, and you do it without a second thought. Don’t ever think for a second that you’re not enough.”
Steve had thought he’d been done crying, but couldn’t help the tears welling up in his eyes again. Sniffling a little, he cleared his throat and swiped a hand underneath his eyes, “Stop making me cry, you jerk.” He wedged his arm underneath you, between your back and the couch cushions, as he tried to get more comfortable, pressing his face into the soft fabric of your shirt.
You giggled and shook your head adamantly as you twisted a strand of his hair around your index finger, “No, I’m serious! I mean all of it. And you deserve to hear it.”
“I love you,” Steve replied, feeling like it was enough to sum up everything he was feeling, pressing his chin into your sternum to look up at you.
“I love you, too.” You reached out, hand sweeping his hair off of his forehead for what felt like the millionth time to see him more clearly, “Whatever you do, Steve, you’ll be great. And I’ll always support you. Everything will be okay.”
The hand that wasn’t pinned underneath you moved to press into the couch next to your head as Steve shuffled a bit so his face was level with yours again. His hand pressed into your back, underneath your shirt to pull your body into his, head dipping down to press his lips to yours in a short but sweet kiss. He dropped his forehead back onto your temple, nose pressing into your cheek.
Your arms crossed over the back of his neck as you angled your own neck back, pressing a kiss to his forehead, “Baby, I…” a kiss to his nose, “love you…” a kiss to his jaw, “so much. You’ll be okay. And I’ve got you.”
When Steve’s eyes met yours this time, he was giving you a familiar smile as some of the darkness had begun to melt away. He didn’t know what to say, feeling like his heart could burst in his chest from the fondness, and settled for laying back against you, face pressed into the crook of your neck.
-
steve friends ily
@cagethemunson @summertimestyles @sparklingsin @seolaseoul @toms-gf @captaindanvxrs and thank u to @familyvideostevie for reading this before i posted it!!!
taking the subway home after a long day with tasm!peter parker as we share earphones and doze off on each other’s shoulders would absolutely solve 99.99% of my problems
this hurt me so much.. harley finally found someone she cared about and loved and thought they cared about her too and he fucking sold her out.. he gave her up and caused her house and safe place to get blown up
summary: It was just a stupid bet. A way to prove Jason and his asshole friends wrong, to finally get under the blonde's skin. It was never supposed to end with Eddie falling in love, nor with him laying on your doorstep with bruised knees, begging for your forgiveness.
tags: Eddie x fem!reader, slow burn, enemies to friends to lovers, ice queen/social outcast reader, Hopper!reader (goddaughter), reader is 18+ (impli. twenties), fluff, humor, angst, happy ending tho ofc
Eddie's fingers - dry skin cracking by his knuckles, pink lines marred by green veins poking out of his skin - shakily held up the lit joint to his chapped lips, allowing him to inhale deeply and let out a slow drag of smoke. Much like his muted breaths, the white whisps of air curled upwards in lazy swirls before dissipating into the night air, providing a momentary release from the cold.
The freezing temperatures embraced Eddie just as quickly afterwards, making him grumble in discomfort, swearing under his breath for how long Jason and his group of friends were taking to finish the damn basketball game. The heat provided from his van was rather weak - the heater having blown a fuse a week ago which he had yet to fix - and his jean jacket did little to provide any additional warmth as he grasped the lapels of the jacket and pulled it closer towards his body.
God, where were those assholes?
As if fate had been listening to his internal monologue, Eddie soon heard the crunching of snow beneath several pairs of feet accompanied by the recognizable rowdy chatter between the basketball players. Leading the group as usual was Jason Carver - the blonde's signature smug expression replaced by one of annoyance - followed by his two best friends, a brunette and a redhead who were practical carbon copies of each other (muscular airheads with big egos and loud voices). Not that Eddie could really distinguish between the basketball players at Hawkins High. They all tended to come from the same pool of people.
Tall, fit, conventionally attractive, white males from cushy upper class backgrounds.
Unfortunately, that also meant jocks were one of his most profitable clients. Hence why Eddie had dragged his van and stash of goods half-way across town during winter break in the freezing cold. Having waited a staggering twenty minutes with nothing more than a jean jacket to keep him company, he was simply looking forward to finalizing the deal and to be able to drive back home to fall underneath the covers.
"You got the goods, freak?" Nate, the tall brunette, yelled out in advance, clapping his meaty hands together. Eddie had to actively suppress an eyeroll - no matter how many times he regularly dealt with them, they'd never even gone so far as to call him by his real name. Wordlessly kicking open the back of his van, he pulled off the green tarp overlaying the interior to reveal a hefty amount of weed, neatly packaged in plastic containers and paper bags.
"What'd you want?" the metalhead asked, voice monotone and face straight - completely immune to their presence at this point. The transaction was, after all, a regular routine at this point so as to make Eddie's reactions automatic and reflexive. He just wanted to get this over with as quickly as he could.
The basketball player standing next to Nate, a slim redhead named Oliver, cut into the conversation whilst brushing falling snowflakes off of his varsity jacket with a frown.
"Give us everything, son of satan."
"Everything?" Eddie raised his eyebrows, unable to hide his surprise. Jason only clicked his tongue at that, left hand coming up to swiftly comb through his hair - the blonde was on edge, that was as clear as daylight to see.
"Yeah, jackass, just give us what you got. I'm throwing a massive party and my parents are in California for another two weeks so I need all you got."
"That'll be $1,500." Eddie slowly said, eyeing the blonde up and down, expecting the man to pull out of the deal at any moment. Instead, the jock only let out an exasperated sigh, dropping his duffel bag to the floor before digging out a wad of cash.
"That's a shit ton of money you're blowing on weed, Carver." Oliver commented, slapping his friend's shoulder.
"Not enough money to impress (Y/n) though, apparently." Nate added from the side, causing both him and Oliver to crack up at the expense of a fuming Jason, the blonde's fists clenching tightly by his sides.
"Fuck off, would you?" the blonde shrugged his friend's arm off of his shoulders quickly, eyes burning with annoyance and betrayal. Eddie knew he wasn't supposed to be listening in on their conversation, his brown eyes still focused on the stack of notes in his hands as his fingers combed through each bill one by one. But his ears perked up at the mention of your name and he couldn't help but listen in closer as Jason's teammates laughed even harder at their leader's expression of fury.
"I'm telling you. Your daddy's money and status may get you everything you want, but not even you can win over the ice queen of Hawkins High." Nate drawled, with Oliver nodding eagerly behind him.
Jason only rolled his shoulders forward at that, unclenching his jaw with a frustrated sigh.
"Well how the fuck was I supposed to know that she was going to throw her drink on me and call me a 'blonde bimbo in ugly basketball shorts' just cause I asked her out?"
The chuckle that escaped from Eddie's lips was dangerous, but he couldn't help but let out a short laugh at the recollection of your comment, subjecting himself immediately to the harsh gazes of the three jocks. Jason in particular looked offended at that, cracking his knuckles and flashing the metalhead a stinging glare.
"You think that's funny, Munson?"
Counting up to the last thousand - damn, Jason really had handed him $1,500 on the dot - Eddie looked up at Jason with a sly smile, shaking his head lightly side to side.
"Meh, just a little. Doesn't matter though. You got the cash, I got the weed." he replied before stepping to the side, signaling for Nate and Oliver to begin shoving the packets of weed into their duffel bags. Whilst they did so, Jason slowly walked forward towards Eddie, an egotistical swagger to his steps.
"What? You think you can do better, freak?
"Asking girls out? Eh, maybe." Eddie decided to goad the blonde further, enjoying the delicious cruelty of being able to toy with the fragile ego of the star basketball player. Watching how Jason's neck strained at that comment, adam's apple bopping up and down.
Suddenly, the angry expression on Jason's face melted away into a wide grin, a new delightful idea seemingly having popped into his mind.
"Tell you what, freak. Let's wager a bet." Jason's tongue dragged across his lower lips slowly, his eyes were glinting with a certain kind of danger Eddie couldn't quite place. "You think you're such tough shit, that you're so much better than me - why don't you go after (Y/n)? If you can somehow get the infamous ice queen to say yes to a date, you win."
"And what exactly would I win?"
"I'll pay double the usual for all our dealings. Heard through the grapevine your shitty trailer home's overdue for a fix, no?"
Oliver and Nate cackled behind Jason at that comment, igniting fiery hatred in the metalhead's veins. Jaw feeling stiff, he forced himself to sit up straight, staring right back at the jocks.
"... That, and you leave me and my friends alone for the rest of the year."
"For that price, you'll have to have her say yes to prom too!" Oliver yelled out from the side, to which Jason nodded.
"Get her to say yes to dates and then prom, and then we'll say you win. I pay double, you can fix your shitty dump you call a house, and we'll stop bothering you and your band of freaks. Deal?"
It was no different to staring the devil in the face, devious and cruel smirk matched with voice dripping with venom as the blonde extended one hand forward. Eddie stared at it for a few seconds, contemplating his decisions: his uncle had tried to be sly about money problems but winter was only getting colder, and now that he had Dustin, Lucas and Mike in the group, he did want the bullying to stop against his group.
Swallowing his doubts, Eddie quickly shook Jason's hand, never once breaking eye contact.
"Deal."
-------------------------------------
First week back from winter break.
Eddie has been agonizing over how to even approach you. He's only spoken to you once before.
Actually, that may be an overstatement, he thinks, now looking back.
Eddie was being blocked from accessing his locker as a group of cheerleaders gossiped in the hallways, each of them blatantly ignoring Eddie's quiet pleas for them to move. When he coughed loudly and tried to wiggle through the crowd, the two head cheerleaders by the front shot him a nasty glare, the blonde one even going so far as to look him up and down and smirk.
"Thought I smelled trailer trash. Piss off, freak."
"I'm just trying to get to my locker, Joanne." he'd deadpanned - normally, he would've just walked away by now but he really needed to get to his fucking locker for that damn history textbook.
"Well we're too busy catching up about the rager Dianne went to last week in Idaho, so you can wait, okay?" the other head cheerleader, a petite raven haired girl named Sandra, snapped. That elicited a crowd of giggles to erupt amongst the group, and Eddie sighed again, running a hand down his face in exasperation.
"Look-"
"Didn't know this was the hangout spot for superficial barbies skipping their geometry classes." you sneered, coy smirk dancing on your glossy lips. The group of girls instantly froze at the sound of your voice, causing even the two head cheerleaders by Eddie to straighten up in fear.
"What'd you want, (L/n)?" Joanne stuttered out, the low pink flush in her cheeks clearly marking her embarrassment and fear. Eddie watched in awe as you simply stared the cheerleader down, dissecting the girl's layers with one glare and a low chuckle under your breath.
"For you and your fake friends to leave, obviously. What, too dumb to even figure that out?"
"Y-you can't make us leave! You have no authority to command so." Sandra blurted out, eyes darting away to the floor when you redirected your fiery gaze at her. Eddie had to admit, you were kind of terrifying - sharp eyes drawn forward, head held high, fingers gripping tightly onto the straps of your backpack.
"Is that so?" you questioned, stepping one step closer to the crowd of cheerleaders, all of whom instinctively backed up against the wall. Pink tongue tracing your lower lips, you cocked your head to the side in feigned interest. "I guess you only ever listen to the authority of Joanne's boyfriend, huh, Sandra? When he's leaving hickies on your neck and blowing off dinners with Joanne for you?"
"You did what?!" Joanne screamed out in anger at her best friend, causing Sandra to begin running in the opposite direction. Sensing a battle brewing between their two leaders, the rest of the cheerleaders deserted the hallway, leaving you and Eddie alone in the aftermath. You rolled your eyes, shoving away the last cheerleader evacuating the scene before Eddie's left hand reached out to grab your wrist.
"W-wait." he stuttered out, hesitant. You looked down at his hand with a cold glare, before staring back up at him in annoyance.
"What."
"Thank you for standing up for me. I mean, no one's ever talked back to the popular kids for me before. It's really cool of you." he rambled, hands fidgeting by his neck, not being able to quite meet your gaze upon feeling chills run down his spine at your icy demeanor. Your only response to his comment was to aggressively shake off his hand, recoiling from his touch as if you'd been burnt.
"I wasn't doing any of that for you, Munson. They were in the way to my Chemistry class."
Turning on your heel, you disappeared into the foreground before Eddie could muster up a response.
The rumors were true, he realized. You were exceptionally beautiful - it was no wonder that you were rumored to be scouted by the cheerleaders by third period on your first day (had you not literally dumped an iced coffee over their leader when she'd approached you during lunch). Even when you were snarling at him, arms crossed in a defensive posture and chilling orbs glaring daggers into his eyes, he couldn't help but feel warmth rise to his cheeks from being able to gaze at your face up close.
But Eddie wasn't able to focus on your features much - the dip of your neck leading down to the valley of your breasts, your glossy lips and bright eyes, jaw and cheeks carved by the harsh sunlight - when you'd snapped at him and turned the other way.
Staring down at his now empty hands, he shrugged. You were indeed, an ice queen.
Cut to the present, Eddie's hiding behind the door of his own locker, peeking out at the hallway every few seconds to watch you shuffle through your own belongings. Headphones around your ears, Walkman tape bouncing alongside your side as you pull down a stack of books from the top shelf, your skirt rides up ever so slightly to bunch at your waist.
To any passing stranger, you may even look sweet at the moment - soft body hugged by the green fabric, knee high socks, lipstick cautiously being applied by the small mirror taped to your locker door.
But Eddie knows better. The whole school knows better, with the way everyone makes a point to avoid you. Cheerleaders stop walking and turn the other way, the jocks avoid your gaze and keep as long of a distance from you, and even the nerds and band geeks make sure to walk with their head down and mind their steps to not bump into you.
"What are you looking at?" Dustin suddenly jumps in, face few inches from Eddie, causing the older boy to straighten up in surprise and hit his head against the wall. Clutching his head where it's beginning to bruise, he makes it a point to glare at the curly haired freshman, who only flashes him an innocent smile.
"Ouch, what the hell, Henderson?" Eddie grumbles.
"You got that 'I'm lost in my thoughts' look on your face. And I was just curious as to what could be so interesting to have you staring off into space."
"It's nothing." Eddie quickly blurts out, practically slamming his locker shut and leaning against it with a faux grin, cool relaxed posture with his arms crossed. Dustin doesn't buy that, only frowning in disbelief, before leaning to the side to peek towards where Eddie was staring.
The only person really visible is you, thumbing through your notebooks, eyebrows furrowed in concentration.
"Holy shit, were you... staring at (Y/n) (L/n)?" Dustin semi-shouts out of shock, forcing Eddie to practically grab the younger boy by the front of his t-shirt and yank him backwards, narrowly avoiding the curious look you throw behind your back upon hearing your name be shouted out.
"Keep your damn voice down, geez." Eddie swears, heart thrumming with anxiety. Dustin's face only quirks up in semi-annoyance, his left hand coming up to slap across the senior's chest.
"Why were you staring at her?"
"I was not staring at her." Eddie weakly responds. It's a total lie and they both know it, with Eddie unable to even look Dustin straight in the face.
"Listen, I know you're crazy and your whole thing is going against the grain - which I think is awesome, don't get me wrong. But getting involved with her? That's a death wish, man. She's fucking scary." Dustin shudders, shaking off faux chills as you slam your locker shut and shove past a group of cowering teens, not even sparing them a second glance.
Cursing internally, the metalhead swallows his comments and forces out a grin.
"Relax, man. I'm not getting involved with anyone."
----------------------------------
Eddie finally gets the courage to talk to you on a rainy Friday afternoon. The parking lot's deserted and the sky's a murky gray, harsh showers slapping against dulled windows fogged up from the cold.
Tucking his roleplaying notebook underneath his left arm, carefree smile on his face from the fantastic D&D session he's just had, he almost walks past where you're leaning against the wall without acknowledging that you're alone.
You're so good at that, Eddie realizes: blending into the background, simultaneously being so eye-catching and beautiful to catch his attention, whilst also exuding an uninviting aura that makes his brain immediately divert his gaze elsewhere.
Tapping your converse shoes against the cement floor, your head is drawn downwards with your eyes narrowly focused in on a hardcover book Eddie can't read the name of. The entire hallway's deserted and Eddie realizes that now's the best time - more than ever - to make his first move.
"Hey. (Y/n), right?" he starts out, waving for your attention and flashing you his most charming smile. It doesn't even leave a dent on your face: lips still in a straight line, your head not even picking up to stare at him.
"What do you want?" you drawl out, flipping a page with your thumb. He fumbles on what to say next, not used to having to speak to someone who won't even look at him - at the very least, he thinks, when jocks are jeering at him or cheerleaders are insulting him, they flash him a dirty glance.
"Tutoring." is the first thing that leaves his lips and that does the job of causing you to still and look up at him with your eyebrows raised, mocking grin on your face.
"Tutoring? You do know that I'm barely passing all my classes, right?" you spit out, unimpressed. Stranded, Eddie's hands fly up in mock surrender, voice edged with nerves as he forces out a laugh.
"Yeah uh, no, I meant like... I could tutor you."
You chuckle at that - a dry, bitter sound that makes him cringe - perfectly manicured fingers curling to point accusingly at his figure.
Licking his lips, Eddie takes in a deep breath, ready to try and persuade you again when the loud honking of a car cuts in. Looking over your shoulder, he can see the faint outline of a truck and a man sitting by the front of the driver's seat, shouting your name. He can't make out much about the man's features - the glass windows fogged up and obscured by the pouring rain - and you brush past Eddie with ease, shoulders colliding with his.
"Well that went well." Eddie sarcastically comments under his breath.
Maybe this bet isn't going to work out, he bitterly thinks, kicking a small pebble in his way.
Then it's Monday. And thank god for Ms. Rogers of his American History class - because she announces a new group project, and the pairings just so work out to pair you and him together. Eddie has to conceal the rush of joy and relief when he sees his name hastily scrawled next to yours on the whiteboard, keeping his face straight and outwardly disinterested when he sits down next to you.
"Hey there, partner." he jokes, sliding his chair closer to the table. Your gaze remains fixated on your nails, your only acknowledgment of his presence being the rolling of your eyes. "How's life?"
"Life is life, Munson." you spit, harsh gaze shifting a fraction to cast him a dirty glance. It makes him feel small, goosebumps rising across his skin from the way your lip snarls and your voice tightens.
"Right, well, now that we're project partners we'll probably be seeing a lot of each other. Do you wanna meet up after school to discuss the basics?" Eddie trails off slowly, cautiously trying to survey your reactions.
He's silently bracing for another cruel remark - or maybe a disinterested eyeroll, coupled with a middle finger to his face - but to his surprise, you huff out a quick sigh and unclench your jaw.
"Fine. The library at 3.30."
"Oh actually, I was wondering if we could do later because technically we're supposed to have a Hellfire campaign tonight-"
You hold one hand up to his face, forcing him to shut up, before throwing him an annoyed glance.
"Do I look like I care? Reschedule."
All other arguments die in his mouth when the teacher begins to talk, signaling for everyone in the class to fall silent and redirect their attention to the front of the classroom. Eddie shifts to look forward, but he can't help but quickly glance at you from the corner of his eyes.
You look agitated, teeth biting down on the end of a yellow pencil, grinding down onto hard wood. Shoulder tensed, body braced forward as you lean onto your propped up arms. Eddie realizes then that he's never seen you relaxed. Or seen you smile, or hell, be anything other than aggressive and tense.
The thoughts of the bet with Jason re-enter his mind, which he's quick to scrub away in an attempt to pay attention. Above all, he supposes, he'd like to at least pass this fucking class so he's not a fourth time repeat senior.
The end of the school day arrives in a flash, it seems, with him anxiously jumping up and down on the balls of his feet outside the library whilst waiting for you to appear. He nearly jumps out of his skin when he then feels a warm hand on his back, twisting around clumsily to see your non-amused expression staring back at him.
"Come on, Munson. I don't have all day."
The first half an hour is painfully awkward. Eddie keeps on throwing jokes - "if I have to read another passage about a dead white man, I think I'm going to die myself" - and thoughtful compliments - "that's a really good idea, (Y/n), thank god we were paired together or else I would've failed" - but you don't seem the least bit deterred. Sitting at least five inches away from him, shoulders hunched over as your gaze remains fixated on the stack of papers strewn over the table surface. There's a permanent frown on your face, pulling down and wrinkling your features, coupled with an unwavering silence.
Eddie wonders what it'd be like if you smiled instead.
"So what do you think? I reckon pretty much everyone's going to do the easy topics - the ratification of the constitution or the fight for independence. So maybe it'd be better if we did something different, like maybe how the two party system emerged?" Eddie suggests lightly, leaning back on his seat, flashing you a hopeful smile.
You don't even look up at him, shrugging your shoulders.
"Sure, whatever."
"If you think there's something else we could do, I'd love to hear it." He's practically begging you to speak at this point, considering he's been the one filling the silence in the room for the past half hour.
"Don't have any ideas."
"You sure?"
"YES! Jesus christ, Munson, are you deaf?" you snap, looking up at him angrily.
"Alright, god, I'm sorry that I'm trying to include you in OUR project." he retorts, feeling his patience run dry. "You know-" He lets out a dry laugh, running a hand through his hair. "I've been nothing but nice to you the past few weeks-"
"Why is that?" you press, voice suddenly quiet.
"W-what?"
His breath catches in his throat when you make full eye contact with him, yellow embers reflecting in your orbs from the light bulbs hanging overhead.
"I'm confused as to why you've been so nice to me lately, Munson. What's your end game?" you question, slamming your book shut. Eddie blinks at you silently like a fish out of water - what the hell is he supposed to say to that? It must look awfully odd from your point of view, he realizes, for you two to go from strangers to him trying to talk to you all the time.
But what's he supposed to say? "Jason Carver and I fought and we got into a bet that I could seduce you and bring you to prom because you're this notorious ice queen."
Yeah right.
Exhaling quickly, he just cocks his head to the side and feigns calmness.
"Maybe I just wanted to get to know you better."
"Me, seriously?" you scoff, clearly not believing him.
"Yeah! Look, I... I know what it's like for people at this shitty high school to not take you seriously or to make you feel like a complete outcast. I figured you could use a friend! Because no offense, I have the Hellfire Club, but I've never seen you with anyone but yourself."
He's being pretty sincere with that statement, and it seems to come through as you raise your eyebrows slowly in response, unreadable expression on your face.
"You've been... watching me?"
"Not in a creepy way! Just consider it, like, one outcast looking out for another."
It's the slightest change, a reflex that lasts for less than a second, but he catches the end of your lips twitch ever so slightly to indicate a grin. It disappears just as quickly it appears, but he catches it nonetheless, and it makes hope blossom in his lower abdomen.
"... Alright." you surrender, gaze slightly softer, voice no longer aggressive and defensive. It's impossible for him to conceal his joy at that.
"Really?"
"Yeah, Munson. I suppose I could be a bit nicer to you. But-" you poke him on the side with a spare pencil. "No promises. No pushing me into anything. We're hardly acquaintances, let alone friends. But I suppose if we need to work together on this stupid project together, we might as well get along. Okay?"
Eddie nearly pulls a muscle with how fast he nods in affirmation.
"Okay."
---------------------------------------
Tuesdays and Thursday evenings are from then on reserved for after school meet ups to work on the project. You're still characteristically you - full of mean comments, sassy eyerolls, judgmental gazes and all. But he does notice that as time goes on, you're snarling at him less and loosening up ever so slightly.
He's yet to seen you smile, however, though he's gotten close a couple of times. Like when he slipped on a banana peel whilst walking out the library with you last week or when yesterday, he made a dumb joke about a horrendous illustration of Thomas Jefferson in the textbook.
On a windy February afternoon, you two end up staying a bit later than expected. Eddie leaning against the wall, sitting on the carpeted floor with his legs crossed as he pours through five heavy leather bound books, you're hunched over a shitty desk lamp and a cup of coffee as you highlight passages from a textbook. Neither of you have cared to check the clock or have registered the fact that it's been a full two hours since the librarians notified you two that they're heading out.
"I think my brain's melting." he complains, slipping down the wall slowly in a dramatic fashion. You shoot him an amused glance, tongue clicking against the roof of your mouth.
"Tough luck, devil boy. We've still got a lot more to read."
Eddie groans, rubbing his eyes with his metal ring clad fingers.
"I know, but it feels like we've been reading boring books in this stuffy room FOREVER now!"
The two of you pause at that, it suddenly dawning on both of you that the rest of the library seems oddly... dark. And quiet.
"Shit. What time is it?" you ask aloud, standing up so quickly that you topple your chair over. The nearest clock - hanging behind a row of oak bookshelves - indicates that it's nearly six thirty pm.
Far, far, later than anyone would be at school.
It's a scramble to dog-ear pages, organize the books in their relevant places and to shove all your belongings in to your respective bags before racing down the hallway to the front doors, which of course, are locked.
"Well, I guess we're gonna die here." Eddie remarks, dropping his hands from the front doors with a sigh. You slap him across the shoulder at that, though this time the action's more playful, more tongue in cheek.
"Relax, Munson. All we need is a phone, do you think the front office's phones still work?"
"Yeah. I would know, because they made a call to my uncle this morning to complain that I came in an hour late to first period."
"Classic Eddie." you comment, to which he visibly stiffens and stares down at you with awe. "What?" you press, confused at why he's suddenly looking at you like that.
"You said my name. Not Munson, not devil boy, not an insult."
To his quiet surprise, you seem to get embarrassed at that, eyes dropping to the floor as you shift nervously on your feet.
"I mean, that's your name, right? But if you prefer I call you like Munson instead I ca-"
"No, no." he lets out a gentle laugh, and a thought passes by your head like a bullet train that you really like it. It's soft, it's melodic, it's sweet: taste of sweet potatoes coated in cloud sugar on your tongue. "I really like hearing you say my name. Say it more."
Your lips quirk up again, signaling a potential smile, but it's not fully realized. But your shoulders do drop in a more relaxed manner, and you flash him an ambivalent glance.
"Sure."
After using a spare hairpin in Eddie's pocket to pick the lock to the front office, you jump over the counter to slide over the surface and reach the phone behind the desk. Eddie makes a joke about how you'd make an excellent spy - to which you throw him a dirty glare and signal for him to shut up - before you make a phone call. To whom, he doesn't know. But it's clear that you care for this person, as your voice becomes lower and less agitated.
"Hey. Yeah, sorry for worrying you. I was staying late with my project partner for American History and then... we lost track of the time and now we're locked in. Do you think you could come over and get us?" you pause, Eddie supposes it's to allow the person on the other line to respond. "Alright. Sounds good. See you soon."
"Who'd you call?" he quizzes, curious as he helps you slide off the desk, allowing you to grasp at his shoulders to jump off securely. He chooses to ignore the way his skin tingles with electricity when your soft hands grip at his skin, heat wrapping around his upper body.
"My godfather. But it'll probably take another half an hour for him to arrive so we should probably camp out by the front doors till then."
There's a good five minutes of uninhibited silence after that as you two sit by the front entrance. You're sitting across from him leaning against the lockers: one leg straight, the other propped up by your chest as you rest your arms on your knee and twist your body to look out the window. Eddie's sitting a few inches away from you, legs crossed, toying with the rings on his fingers.
It's not a tense silence, but it is boring.
"I didn't know you had a godfather." Eddie decides to say, looking up at you cautiously. "That's cool."
"Cool, huh?" you quip, tearing your gaze away from the window. "Not many people think that. Most people think it's fucking weird that I live with my godfather instead of my biological parents."
"Well most people are assholes and idiots. Don't listen to them." he argues, lacing his fingers together.
"That's true." you agree, nodding ambivalently. "What about you? You and your uncle? You two live by the trailer park, right?"
Neither of you delve into too much personal information - the conversation's restrained to surface level things, before somehow melting into a heated discussion over music. It turns out that you're a huge music fan, front pocket of your bag overflowing with cassettes, notebooks crumpled by the weight of your walkman and headphones.
"Listen, I can appreciate a good Billy Joel song and all, but Black Sabbath is god." Eddie insists, uncrossing his legs and gesturing frantically with his hands.
"Oh, please, Eddie! You're just saying that because your exposure to Billy Joel has primarily been Uptown Girl. He has some serious deep cuts, like you can't tell me that you're able to listen to Vienna without getting emotional."
"Hey, you can get PLENTY emotional to Black Sabbath."
"Really?" you quip, poking him in the shoulder, forcing him to fall back down on his heels. You're fully smiling at this point, eyes light and wide, lips outstretched into an actual grin. He really likes this sight, he thinks. The light even seems to hit you differently when you smile - carving shadows down your jaw, glittering light kissing your hairline, halo around your hair.
"Really. Pinky promise." Eddie argues, poking his pinkie finger out at you. You stare down at him, fully amused, shaking your head sideways at his antics.
"I'm not gonna pinky promise you shit." you mock, crossing your arm.
"Aw, come on." he leans in teasingly, backing you up against the lockers. He doesn't realize it, but your breath hitches in your throat at the action, as it hits you that he's so close that you can count the individual freckles adorning his cheeks and smell the mixed scents of pine, fresh rain and weed emanating from his jacket.
You both break away from your respective positions at the sound of the front doors unlocking, with a very unimpressed look on Hopper's face as he links back the keys to his belt and raises his eyebrows at you.
"Are you sure it was the project that made you late and not being with your boyfriend?" he drawls, forefinger outstretched to gesture between the two of you. You stand up so quickly you practically stumble forward, stuttering your words - you're so mortified, you can't even look at Eddie.
"Jesus, dad, NO! He's just a friend."
"Friend, huh?" Eddie teases, elbowing you on the side, to which you elbow him back harder (making him groan out in slight pain). He watches as the police chief's blue eyes narrow in on his figure, dissecting him with a single glance, before returning to stare at you. It registers in his mind that Hopper's eyes soften when they land on you, a small grin appearing on his aged face.
"Alright then. Good to see you've made friends, (Y/n)." he comments. You roll your eyes, slinging your bag over your shoulder.
"Speaking of which, Eddie needs to get going. Right?" you rush out, practically shoving Eddie forward. Eddie nods awkwardly, shooting the older man a (what he hopes is) charming smile before winking at you.
"Right. Thank you, sir, for saving us. (Y/n), I'll see you next Tuesday for the final bits of the project?"
"Yeah, see you."
The moment you hop into the front seat of Hopper's truck, you can practically feel the intensity of the the rush of thoughts in your godfather's mind, his heavy gaze alternating between the road and your anxious figure shifting against the leather seats.
"So... this Eddie. Your friend, huh?" he starts out, quiet.
"Just drive, Hop, jesus." you say out loud, leaning your head against the window, rubbing your temples in a soothing manner as if to cure a headache.
"Not commenting on it, sweetheart. Just saying it's nice to see you open up and make friends."
"A friend, dad. One. Singular." you correct, to which he just waves off your comment with a blow through his lips.
"Still. Maybe this'll help you adjust a bit better. You have been adjusting alright, right?"
He pulls over into the driveway of his house, hands lingering over the steering wheel as he glances over at you worryingly. Hopper's always been a protective godfather, never intrusive but often keeping a close watch on you from the background. You don't blame him for worrying, considering the whiplash of a turn your life's taken in the past few months.
Leaving your parents in New York, packing two bags of clothes before hitchhiking across the country to come all the way down to Hawkins to live with your godfather. Your 'real' parents are practically dead to you, hence why you've chosen to call Hopper 'dad', and you consider El to be your real life little sister.
You figure you're already asking so much of him: to take you in as his non-biological daughter, to provide you a place to sleep and eat, to pay for your schooling as you catch up on two years of high school you took off in New York. All of this, combined, has led you to be less than transparent about how you've been adjusting at your new school.
In fact, Hopper wouldn't even know anything about how you don't really have friends if it hadn't been for Mike and his big mouth, and El's sweet concerns being expressed to Hopper.
"I'm doing okay, dad. Seriously." you assure him, patting down on his hand, squeezing it comfortingly.
When your bedroom door finally closes behind you that night, it dawns on you as you're staring up at the ceiling - you've made a friend.
For the first time in a while, you fall asleep filled with joy and giddiness.
------------------------------------------
"Do you wanna come see my band play tonight?"
Eddie asks you on the final day of your project, closing your locker door for you, peering up at you with his doe like eyes. Your mind's been swimming with anxious thoughts all day - you're afraid that the only thing keeping your friendship afloat with Eddie is the project, which is due to be turned in today, and you're not sure what's going to happen once it's done.
So it's actually kind of a relief to have him beg you to see his band perform tonight, relief that you can't help but spill out into a small grin reflected on your lips.
"Corroded Coffin's playing tonight?"
"Yeah! And it's gonna be radical. Some of my other friends are gonna be attending too, so you won't have to show up alone."
"Aren't minors not allowed in seedy bars?" you tease. "Your friends are like, all freshman boys."
"Hey, I have friends that aren't Henderson or the other kids! Seriously, Steve and Robin are cool adults in their twenties and they will be there too."
"I don't think imaginary friends count." you continuously tease, walking away from him, as he follows right behind you.
"They're NOT imaginary! I swear, they're real people with real jobs and hobbies." Eddie pouts, looking like a kicked puppy. It's adorable, really, and you can't help but chuckle at his sad expression.
"Alright, alright, I'm joking! Sure, sounds good. When and where is it?"
"The downtown bar by the bookstore off the 45. Door's open at 7, but realistically we won't be playing till like 8.30 so feel free to come by then. I'll tell Steve and Robin to wait for you outside. They're cool, I promise."
You can't help but bite your bottom lip at that, anxiety gnawing at your chest.
"Are you sure? I just... I don't know if I'll get along with your friends, that's all. I mean, it took us like forever to be friends ourselves." you comment dryly.
"Pfft, you'll get along with them super well, don't worry! You're cool, they're cool, that's all you need."
All protests die in your mouth when he smiles at you like that, so you sigh and surrender to his demands.
"Alright, fine."
The bar's packed and loud, you think, flashes of yellow and red light emitting from the dingy entrance as you cross the road towards the establishment. There's already a line of people outside but there's two people in particular who stick out like a sore thumb amongst the crowd of black and edgy looks - a girl and a boy around your age, mid-playful argument.
The guy meets your gaze and then waves you over, soft smile on his lips. He's quite cute, you think - not your type, but there's an undeniable charm to him, wavy chestnut brown hair, soft features and slight muscle definition to his thighs and arms. The girl's grinning at you and she's also pretty, short brunette bob framing her lively face quite nicely.
They're also dressed more for the park than a metal concert, but you suppose you haven't done much better (throwing on just a t-shirt and jeans over a pair of sneakers).
"Hey! (Y/n), right?" Steve asks, as you nod in response, slightly intimidated at the presence of these new people.
You do vaguely remember Hopper mentioning a guy named Steve once over a phone call with Joyce, but other than that you don't know too much about him. But Steve seems really nice, welcoming you into the group instantly, gently pulling you towards the two of them and away from the rest of the hectic crowds.
"I'm Steve. Nice to meet you. And this is Robin, my best friend and eternal pain in the ass."
"Cap your ego, Harrington. Don't listen to him, besides, us girls have to stick together, right?" Robin quips, pulling you against her and winking at you. You can't help but giggle at that, what with the way Steve's face then scrunches up into a haughty frown.
It turns out that they're a delightful pair to be around. Robin's sarcastic, witty and funny, and her no-bullshit attitude and dry sense of humor pairs nicely with Steve's slightly egotistical, flirty and outgoing nature. And with a bit of alcohol dancing on the tip of your tongue, you find yourself loosening and completely comfortable by the time the band comes out to play.
The music is loud - so loud that it reverberates through your body, so loud that it feels like the whole building shakes with the booming of the speakers - but it's also delirious and addicting, jumping up and down in a sea of people to the ear-splitting music.
The three of you stay long past after the show's wrapped up, leaning against the counter of the open bar with dopey smiles on each of your faces.
"Holy shit, my dad's gonna be so mad that I'm this tipsy." you comment, leaning onto Robin's shoulders for support.
"Really?" she teases, amused.
"Seriously. And the fact that he's the police chief probably isn't going to do me much favours."
"Hopper's your father?" Steve asks, surprised. He remembers in the back of his mind Hopper mentioning that he's taken in another kid a while ago, but he hadn't pressed the older man for details.
"Godfather, actually, but he might as well be my dad. Considering I left my shitty biological parents in New York."
"To shitty parents." Robin announces, raising her glass of whiskey into the air. Steve and you clink your glasses with hers in agreement.
"To shitty parents."
"Looks like someone's had a lot of fun." Eddie comments from behind you the moment you down the shot, your head slow to catch up with his presence before it hits you all at once.
"Eddie!" you squeal out, dropping the glass onto the counter and spinning around to envelope him in a fierce hug. He's wholly unprepared to catch your embrace with the speed and force with which you wrap your arms around his waist, causing him to stumble backwards.
"You were amazing! Like seriously, your guitar solo was the best part of the whole night." you gush and Eddie's glad that the harsh lighting of the bar is able to mask the slight blush creeping up his cheeks.
"Aw, thanks. Did Steve and Robin treat you alright?" he asks, looking up at his friends.
"More than alright, we nearly stole your girl." Steve teases, to which Eddie only scowls, waving away his friend's suggestive teasing.
"Alright, Harrington, keep it in your pants."
Robin and Steve continue to smirk at Eddie, making exaggerated lovesick expressions and throwing kisses at the two of you, none of which you're catching because your head is still buried against Eddie's chest. Eddie has to subtly - but fiercely - tell his friends to cut it out, gesturing with his hands and throwing nasty glares their way.
"Fuck, I really need to sober up though." you mumble, straightening up, stumbling ever so slightly on your feet.
"Yeah, and I'm beat. Wanna split a cab, Buckley?"
"Sure do, Steve. See you two kids around." Robin slyly adds, quickly exiting right after Steve to leave you alone with Eddie. It's clear what they're trying to do, but Eddie can't really bring it to himself to care when you tug at his sleeves, still tipsy and tired.
"Can we drive out somewhere cold and empty? If I go home now, Hopper's gonna be real mad about my alcohol consumption. Even if I'm over 18, that man is... protective."
Eddie chuckles, nodding, brushing away a stray strand of hair from your eyes.
"Alright then. Guess we're driving to the park."
On the way out to his car, his left hand resting on your back as he guides you into the front seat, Eddie meets Jason's eyes from across the road. The jock is leaning against his car, nursing a beer bottle in his right hand, whilst his group of friends rustle and joke around with each other by the gas tanks.
An unshakable feeling of disgust rises up in Eddie's throat, heart clenching at the way the blonde's eyes shift down at you, then on to Eddie's hand on your back, and how then a semi-impressed grin spreads on Jason's lips. The blonde ever so slightly nods at Eddie, as if confirming their bet, before returning to his conversation with his friends.
"Eddie?" you call out his name, breaking him out of his trance. "Everything alright?"
He's being paranoid, he tells himself. He hasn't even done anything yet, if anything, he's nowhere near "winning" the bet - you're just friends, that's all this is, leading you back to the car and helping you sober up by a park.
"Yeah. All good." Eddie forces out, faux grin and all. There's an odd bitter taste filling his lungs, but he breathes out slowly, reminding himself that he's not doing anything bad.
He's just a friend, taking another friend, to the park.
Sitting on the swing set, his fingers trail down the linked metal chains, small smile on his face as you childishly swing back at forth with your legs kicking out in front of you. It's your way of sobering up, you insist, and he can't complain - it's clearly making you very happy, the smile on your face permanent. It's a nice sight, a rare sight, one that he's keeping tucked in to the crevices of his mind for later.
"Be careful." Eddie chastises, watching you soar higher and higher towards the night sky. "I don't want you to break a bone or something. Think Hopper would be even more if you break a bone than if you show up a bit drunk."
Slowing down your movements, you scoff, but there's still a lazy smile on your face indicating that you're not really mad.
"I hate it when you're right." you mumble, drawing a loud laugh from Eddie's lips, head thrown back and all.
"I'm always right, (L/n)." he challenges, knocking his swing into yours.
"Sure, Munson. Except the times you're not. Which is almost every time."
"Almost."
Silence settles over the two of you again, the creaking of metal as you both lazily swing back and forth being the only sounds in the night, pale moon marking the shift into midnight. Eddie's fiddling with his rings absentmindedly, not really sure what to say or why he suddenly feels nervous sitting next to you, until you pick your head back up and speak.
"Thanks."
"For what?" he's confused and surprised.
"For inviting me. For letting me meet Steve and Robin, you're right, they're really cool. And like, I don't know. Thanks for being my friend, I guess." you look down immediately after finishing your sentence, hot embarrassment coursing through your veins, Eddie's soft stare too much to bare all at once on top of your heartfelt confession. The confession that tugs at Eddie's heartstrings, guilt pouring over him in waves.
"Yeah, so-"
"It's just crazy to me, you know?" you interrupt. "That you'd want to be friends with me. That anyone would want to be friends with me. I know I was a bitch when we first spoke. And uh, maybe I still kind of am. But you just... you're different, Eddie."
You pause for a tender moment, legs spreading as you shift your swing closer towards his, so that your knees are brushing against his and you can place a warm hand down onto his lap.
"I feel like you really see me. Not this whole 'ice queen' bullshit or whatever people are saying at school. The real me, the person behind all the walls and defences raised up. You kept on trying to get to know me even when I was pushing you away and being cruel to you. And it was thanks to that that we ended up becoming friends. So... yeah. Thank you, Eddie. Sincerely."
It's hard to shake off the shame now coating his lips, his skin burning and feeling sticky underneath your pure, innocent gaze and soft touch. He forces a smile, fingers uncurling from the metal chains of the swing to pat down on your warm hand, trying his best to maintain the neutrality of his voice.
"Y-yeah. No problem, I guess."
-------------------------------------------
Things shift after that night by the swing set.
Despite the history project having ended, he ends up seeing you even more regularly than before. It's because you end up taking a part-time job at Family Video after befriending Steve and Robin, and also because you start intermittently dropping by to watch his band pratcitce after school or swing by randomly to Hellfire Club sessions, at the insistence of El wanting to see Mike.
At this point, all of Eddie's friends know who you are. It was comedic at first, to see how Gareth nearly choked on his tongue and refused to make eye contact with you in your presence, and how all the freshman boys - Dustin, Mike and Lucas - pretended to be interested in a bunch of random sheet music thrown around the room to avoid having to look at you.
"Relax, kids, you can stare at her." Eddie had to say, laughing as he placed an arm around your shoulder. "Stop scaring them, (L/n)."
You just scowled at that, shrugging off his arm and sighing dramatically.
"I'm not trying to do that! It's just my reputation preceding me. I'm not as mean as I seem, I promise." you emphasized, turning to address the boys face to face. "I'm just here because Eddie promised to let me play for a 'taster' session of sorts."
"You're... joining Hellfire?" Dustin meekly asked, being the first out of the three to gain enough courage to look up at you. To his surprise, you didn't scowl or flip him off, if anything, you looked quite approachable and friendly standing next to Eddie, who was smiling at you with so much pride.
"Not sure if I'm necessarily joining, but... this meathead won't stop talking about this damn game so I wanted to see what all the hype was about."
The other boys loosened up after seeing how relaxed Eddie seemed to be around you, mock hurt on his face as he dramatically clutched his chest, stumbling backwards as if he'd been shot.
"You wound me with such harsh words! Now I can't promise that I'll go easy on you when we start playing."
"Why would that matter?"
"Duh, I'm the dungeon master, so everything you can do in the game is basically up to me. Or what you roll on the dice, but mainly up to me."
"That hardly seems fair." you commented, flashing the young boys a look of disbelief. "Is that really how this works?"
"Yeah, which is why we basically always have to gang up against him." Lucas replied, drawing a genuine laugh from your lips. It was the final straw to break the tension in the room, everyone loosening up and welcoming your new presence in the group.
"Sounds good, freshies. Us against Eddie, we can definitely take him." you winked at Eddie, rolling your shoulders forward. "Watch out, Eds."
It's late spring now, verging on summer. Eddie's lost count of the amount of time you two have spent together, be that in between periods at school (skipping classes together by the bleachers) or sneaking into the cinemas without paying on a tipsy game of truth or dare.
Eddie catches himself fully lost in your presence - watching your hair flip in the wind behind you whilst he drives with his window down, surveying how your delicate fingers toy with the fabric of your jacket when you're deep in concentration, counting your slow breaths as you lean against him in a darkened parking lot out of exhaustion - until the illusion is shattered for him by way of remembrance.
It's a bet.
But it doesn't matter, not really, he'd always tell himself. You two are still friends. And Eddie's not forcing it, being friends with you is natural, spending time with you is something he genuinely wants.
It's a hollow way of consoling himself, but it's the only way he's able to justify continuning to hang out with you and to slyly avoid Jason or his stupid best friends' constant pestering about how the bet is going.
"We're still just friends, Carver." Eddie gritted through his teeth, skillfully stepping past the blonde to get to his van. Jason didn't seem to like that response, one hand reaching out to grab at his wrist and yank him backwards.
"Listen, freak. I'm impressed, not gonna lie, that you even managed to become friends with her. But the bet was over dating her and getting her to go to prom. It's now, what, end of April?" the jock chuckled, tapping his two front fingers against the expensive watch around his wrist. "Time's running out. That said, I lose absolutely nothing if you lose the bet so actually-"
The blonde pulled away, victorious grin on his pink lips. He looked like a coy predator playing with his prey, smug cruelty rolling off of him in waves.
"Yeah, don't make a move. I'd love to win this bet."
Looking down at where Jason's filthy hand was wrapped around his wrist, Eddie roughly shook off the basketball player's grasp, glare fuelled by the heat of a thousand suns.
"I'm going to win the bet, Carver. Don't get too cocky."
"Did you see what Nate did yesterday?" you question him in the present. Eddie's lying down on the carpeted floor of your bedroom next to you, legs bent in a 45 degree angle, hands supporting the back of his head. You're lying down with your feet propped up on your bed, your eyes meeting his in a sly manner.
"Not really, why? What'd he do this time?"
"He tried doing a backflip during the lunch period and broke his left wrist. Cried like a little bitch about it, too."
The image of the tall, overconfident jock wailing like a child makes Eddie snort.
"That's hilarious."
"It's what he deserves too. He's a total creep." you shudder, remembering how he tried to hit on you on your first day of school. "Though, he did cry a bit more when I sprained his fingers because he tried to grab my ass on my first day."
"He did what?"
"Yeah, I know. Real fucking creep. Don't know why he bothered, either, the jeans I was wearing that day were super ugly."
"I highly doubt that." the comment slips out of Eddie's mouth unconsciously, piquing your curiosity enough for you to shift your body to the side to stare at him with confusion.
"What'd you mean?"
"Oh! Just like..." Eddie scratches his neck, avoiding your gaze. "I highly doubt that the jeans you were wearing were ugly. Just like, I don't think anything you could wear could be ugly."
You sit up at that, legs crossing underneath.
"You calling me pretty?"
"Well, uh-" he stumbles over his words, cheeks flushing vibrant pink as he begins to rattle off in an incoherent manner. "Yeah, I mean I always thought that but yeah you are. Objectively speaking. But also like I think you're pretty, is it hot in here suddenly or-" his hands fly up to the collar of his hellfire club shirt, pulling at the sides as if to let in cool air.
"Are you serious?" you sound shocked, in disbelief, which only confuses Eddie in return.
"Of course I am. Why... would I lie about that?"
You shrug, bringing a juice box to your lips.
"Figured if you thought I was pretty we wouldn't still be friends. That's a compliment you give to someone who's attracted to you, not someone who's just your friend."
"Oh." Eddie then comments, pausing ever so slightly. "Who says I'm not attracted to you?"
His daring question lingers in the air for a few baited breaths, the atmosphere in the room shifting in the microseconds it takes for that sentence to leave his lips and for him to suddenly shift closer to you.
"... I'm attracted to you too." you choke on your words, it barely being a whisper, but Eddie catches it nonetheless. His left hand comes to rest on your cheek, eyes staring right into yours that you think he must be able to see through your soul.
"Can I kiss you?"
You don't think you can speak. You're left to nod quietly, hoping that it's enough. And it is. The force with which he kisses you - he blames it on the months and months of pent up adoration - backs you up against your bed, your legs falling backwards as your back meets the soft mattress. He practically crawls on top of your lap, kiss messy and deep, strands of curly hair clouding your hazy vision.
When it's done, fresh air filling your lungs instead of the intoxicating scent of Eddie, muted taste of beer and mint chapstick dancing on your lips, you two stare at each other with wide eyes before bursting into a fit of nervous laughter.
"So... what now?" you question lightly, hands still gripping his forearms.
"Let's go on a date? Arcade after school on Friday?" he suggests.
"We already do that every week, doofus."
"I know, but this time it'll be different. I'll hold your hand and buy you dinner afterwards."
You pretend to think about it, humming quietly before nodding with a wide smile.
"Deal."
You fall asleep in his embrace that night, face squished against his upper chest, body rising and falling alongside your slow breaths. But Eddie can't sleep. The euphoria he's feeling is underlined with sickening guilt, a gnawing clawing sensation in his stomach, a harsh whisper in the back of his mind that none of this is real.
He's lying to you.
But what he feels for you isn't a lie, he reasons, so it's fine. He's driving himself insane with these internal arguments, subconsciously pulling your sleeping figure closer towards himself as his fingers clutch onto your waist tighter.
Burying his head into your hair, inhaling deeply, he attempts to quiet his thoughts. It'll all be over soon. Graduation is looming. He's just got one more part of the bargain to hold up - asking you to prom. It'll be over soon, it won't get worse....
Right?
------------------------------------------
"I'm really glad she's dating you."
Hopper comments two months later, looking over from the driver seat of his truck as Eddie jumps up straight upon being addressed by your godfather. The two men have spent countless times together - whether it be Eddie lounging on the couch in the living room whilst waiting for you or Hopper knocking on Eddie's trailer door to ask why you still haven't come home - but it never stops Eddie from getting a bit nervous around him.
He wants to make a good impression on the police chief for numerous reasons, but above all, because he's your father. Your only parent at this point. So even if it's something as casual as hitching a ride from Hopper the day Gareth had to borrow his van, Eddie's still a bit on edge when he's sitting in the passenger seat next to Hopper.
Upon seeing the younger man's eyes widen in surprise, Hopper chuckles, the sound a low rich baritone.
"Have to admit, the day I picked her up from school that day you two kids got yourselves locked inside and she called you her new friend... I felt that there was something more to that word. Friend. And despite your, um, questionable activities-"
Eddie flushes with embarrassment at that.
"You've always been good to her. And it's doing her wonders, I can tell. She went from this isolated, broken shell of a person to... Someone with friends her age. A job. Someone who smiles and laughs and says yes to spontaneous plans. I know it's not all you but you've been a big part of that so thank you." Hopper grumbles out, coughing awkwardly, not used to such heartfelt confessions. It makes Eddie feel even worse, almost making him want to sink into his seat.
"It's no big deal." Eddie forces out, voice strained and almost breaking because he's choking on recurrent waves of shame, guilt twisting like sharp veins around his chest and squeezing his heart. His mind is still foggy and reeling from the guilt when the truck finally pulls up by his trailer, and you come barreling from the inside of his trailer to hug Eddie.
"Didn't know you'd be here." Hopper comments, crossing his arms. You roll your eyes.
"I think I'm allowed to come over to visit my boyfriend, dad."
"Mmhmm, just make sure you're home by eleven."
"Midnight."
"Ten thirty."
"Eleven thirty."
Hopper pretends to be annoyed, sighing deeply, but he still smiles and ruffles your hair before leaving.
"Fine. See you then, kiddo."
Your legs thrown over his lap half-hazardously, Eddie can't really focus on the VHS tape you've generously 'rented' from your workplace - "Please, as if I'll get in trouble. The only employees are me, Robin and Steve and our boss basically never comes by." - as another character gets gruesomely killed on the screen.
"You're not watching the movie." you complain half-way through the movie, putting down the popcorn bowl to stare incredulously at your boyfriend. He only smiles in response, shaking his head sideways, symmetrical face framed by his long curls.
"Can't focus. You're too pretty." he offers, and you chuckle at that, his whining tone and pleading eyes melting your heart. You clamber on top of him, legs caging his body in between your thighs, as your hands come up to cup his cheeks.
"Aw.... Thanks, babe. But you really don't have to tell me that every day."
"I'd tell you that you're pretty every day just to see you smile like that." he admits softly, boyish grin on his lips and mischievous glint in his eyes. You open your mouth to respond with a sassy comment when someone knocks on the door loudly, accompanied by a furious set of even louder knocks.
It's your sister, El, jumping up and down anxiously before her eyes fall upon your familiar figure.
"El, what's wrong?" you question immediately, climbing off of the couch and rushing to cradle your younger sister's face in your hands. She doesn't look physically harmed nor does she look particularly upset, just anxious to see you.
"I'm bored and Mike canceled on me last minute." she complains, stretching her arms out over her head. "I heard from dad that you were here and I wondered if we could like... hang out. We don't have to, if I'm intruding I can-"
You look at Eddie with a pleading gaze, but you honestly don't even need to convince him, as he's already fluffing up the pillows and shaking off the popcorn crumbs from the blanket strewn over the sofa.
"Nonsense, nonsense! You're totally welcome to join us. Just be careful with your sister - sometimes she screams really loudly at the jump scares." your boyfriend teases, winking at you. El giggles at that and you send the metalhead a harsh glare.
"I do not."
"You totally do, babe. But it's okay, I still find you hot."
"Is there popcorn left?" your younger sister then questions, wiggling out of your grasp to stare at the television with eyes full of wonder.
"I'll make more, why don't you two get comfortable." you quickly suggest, knowing Eddie's kitchen like the back of your hand. You take the quiet moments which follow to admire how Eddie interacts with El, your vision only slightly obscured from behind the counter.
El's rattling off about something you don't really understand but Eddie seems totally entraced by her, delighted smile and eager nodding, gently encouraging your younger sister to continue her story whenever she gets nervous that she's talking too much. Your sister looks wholly relaxed in his presence, shoulders lax and fingers thrumming gently against a cushion she's holding against her stomach.
When he makes a dumb joke and El laughs, the warmth blossoming in your chest worsens. You feel lightheaded, stomach filled with love, eyes glazed over in pink hue. You almost drop the popcorn packets on the floor when you realize what this is.
Love.
You love Eddie.
You're not surprised, concealing the smile on your face as you turn away and pop the paper packet into the microwave. Eddie's your first real boyfriend. First friend turned lover, first friend in Hawkins, the person who introduced you to your new group of friends - Steve, Robin, and now Nancy and Jonathan as they swing by Family Video ever so often.
It was inevitable then that you'd fall in love with Eddie.
It's all you can think about for the rest of the night, in between stupid jokes thrown in by Eddie and comments of awe and shock muttered by El in between mouthfuls of popcorn, until she's practically falling asleep on your lap. Checking your watch, you realize that it's nearly 11:30 anyways, so you'd better get home.
"Do you think you could drive us back?" you question quietly, whispering as you gesture to El's sleeping figure. Eddie nods, turning off the television and gently pocketing his car keys as you lightly shake your sister awake and strap her into the backseat. She mumbles incoherently, asking sleepily where you two are going, to which you only shush her and assure her that Eddie's just driving you two home.
The conversation in the car is light and spare - it's late at night, El's still sleeping in the backseat, and unbeknownst to each other, you both have a lot on your minds.
Eddie's fixated on how much he likes you, how much he's scared of losing you and how it's almost been two months of dating you. You're transfixed on the realization that you love Eddie, the tall metalhead who loves his guitar and D&D, the boy with copious jean jackets and an oddly obnoxious charm that broke down your walls brick by brick. The constant wondering if he feels the same, the worries that you're overthinking it, layered with the euphoric rush of adoration and infatuation makes you almost sick with joy.
When the familiar outline of your house comes into view, Eddie piggybacks El into your house as you open up the front door for him, allowing him to gently tuck your sister into bed before you close the door. You accompany Eddie back out to the driveway, fingers anxiously twitching by your sides as the confession sits on the tip of your tongue. It's burning your mouth to keep it in, heart beating at a million miles per minute.
"What's on your mind, princess?" he gently asks you, the sour expression on your face giving you away in a moment's notice that you're clearly deep in thought. But nothing could've prepared him for what you said next.
"I love you." you blurt out. "I actually, wholly, undoubtedly love you."
Eddie freezes at that, grin falling ever so slightly, eyes wide and unblinking. You take it as a bad sign, fumbling over your words desperately as you try to salvage the situation.
"I-I know that might be kind of quick because we've only been dating for two months, but if you think about it we've been friends for almost like three quarters of a year, so it's not-"
"No, no." your boyfriend quickly reassures you, hand cupping your chin to stop your talking and to focus your attention on him. You realize that up close, you can better make out his features in the dark: he's smiling brightly, eyes fawning and voice gentle. "It's not quick. I realized I loved you many weeks ago. Was just waiting for you to catch up." Eddie adds, winking at you.
You laugh at that, nodding eagerly, tension dissipating from the night air in an instant. The boy then kisses you gently under the pale moonlight, his tongue slipping in to trace your bottom lip when you moan out in surprise, the strength and passion with which he presses into your mouth catching you off guard.
Eddie's kissed you a million times at this point, but this time it feels different to you. It feels like a million unsaid "i love you"s wrapped into one, delicate touch burning golden tattoos alongside your skin as his hand dances up your waist, pleasant melodies ringing in your ears even when you pull away to catch your breath.
"So... you love me and I love you, I guess." you breathe out into the cold air, affirming reality for yourself by speaking out loud.
"Yeah." Eddie replies, licking his lips to chase the aftertaste of your cherry lipgloss.
"Two people in love. How romantic." you joke, smiling.
Eddie doesn't respond to that, only pressing another shaky kiss to your lips before bidding you goodnight, his knuckles turning white with the strength with which he grips the steering wheel on his drive back. His anxiety has snowballed past its tipping point, his head a toxic warzone of jumbled thoughts, nauseous feeling causing bile to rise up to his throat that Eddie needs to pull over to the side mid-drive.
His heart feels like it's being crushed.
He can't stand it anymore - the lying, the secrets, the way you look at him like he's the only thing that matters in this cruel world. And now, it's undeniable. The truth is staring him right in the face.
You said you loved him.
And fuck, he loves you.
It's gone too far. He's fallen too deep. He's sinking into a bottomless pit and he's dragging you down with him.
And for what? Eddie bitterly ponders, smashing his hands down onto the steering wheel with anger. A stupid bet with a jock?
He needs to call it off.
He makes a beeline to the locker room the next morning, frantically tearing through the school hallways in search of Jason. Unfortunately, the best he can do is to run into Oliver and Nate post-shower, flicking each other with wet towels before Eddie coughs and demands their attention.
"Where's Jason?"
"Pissed off the coach so he's doing another lap. Why, backing out of your bet like a pussy?" Nate teases, drawing a howling laugh from Oliver. Not that Eddie cares. It just frustrates him because first period starts in a few minutes and if he's late one more time for chemistry, he knows it's another detention slip being put into his hands.
"Just tell Carver to meet me by the bleachers during lunch. It's important. And yes, it's about the bet."
Eddie thanks god that you don't share any classes with him today. He doesn't think he could stomach it, looking into your innocent eyes and letting you kiss and hold him softly when he doesn't deserve your love.
He feels as if he's in a trance the whole day, going through the motions of life, eyes empty and mind buzzing with static as he nods along to one lecture after another.
The only thing to jolt him awake is when, in between his second and third period, he hears a familiar set of voices whispering from inside the janitor's closet. It's Dustin, Mike and Lucas, with Dustin clearly pained and tired whilst the other two boys whisper frantically amongst themselves.
Privacy be damned, Eddie opens the door and flicks on the light, jaw clenching with anger the moment the small space is enveloped in bright light and he sees the shiny black bruise blossoming on Dustin's forehead.
"What the hell happened?" Eddie quickly questions, closing the door quietly behind him. He's far too tall for the enclosed space, head awkwardly brushing up against the ceiling, his limbs stretching into mops and cleaning supplies, but he can't give a shit. His veins are coursing with anger, worry tightening his chest as he surveys the extent of Dustin's injuries - the curly haired boy only sighing and refusing to meet the senior's gaze.
"Jason Carver happened to him." Lucas cuts in, voice also tense and angry.
"We were hanging out by the entrance and Dustin decided to stand up to Jason and his teammates for bullying us and, well.. he didn't like Dustin's smart mouth." Mike comments quietly.
"So what, that bastard punched you?!" Eddie exclaims, hysterical.
"He didn't punch me, relax. He just knocked me up against the wall and I happened to slam my head against a brick out of place."
"A BRICK?" Eddie screams, causing all of them to cringe at the sudden loud noise. "Shit, Henderson, I'm so sorry."
"It's fine, seriously! I mean, just another Monday, right?" Dustin tries to joke, flashing the older boy a reassuring grin. But it does little to quiet Eddie's fury and guilt, not being able to protect his fellow Hellfire Club members in their time of need.
Lunch time rolls around achingly slow, Eddie munching on his homemade sandwich quickly whilst waiting for Jason to show up by the bleachers. The blonde makes his appearance a full ten minutes into lunch, striding across the green fields in large steps with a scowl on his face.
"What's so important you had to cut into my lunch time, huh?" he growls, clearly annoyed.
"I'm calling the bet off."
"Huh?"
"The bet. I'm fucking over it. I don't care about the money. You win, okay? Now let me out."
Eddie attempts to shove past the blonde but it's like walking into a brick wall, Jason's left hand flying up to Eddie's chest to stop him from walking away before shoving him backwards.
"You're backing out now? When prom's just around the corner and you've already got that bitch riding your dick? I'm surprised, freak." he cruelly comments, cocking his head to the side in fake interest.
"Yeah, I'm out. Now let me go."
"I'm just surprised, that's all. Thought you'd stick by the bet, especially with what happened to that twerp this morning. What's his name, Justin?"
"It's Dustin." Eddie grits, fists clenching by his sides.
"Yeah, whatever. You want to give up the money we bet on, cool, whatever. But a part of our deal was that I'd - along with my friends - lay off of your band of freaks. If you want to call off the bet, that offer is also taken off the table."
Jason's words hang in the air, metaphorical black smoke filling Eddie's lungs and restricting his airways. He feels like he can't breathe, hands clawing at his skin, heart beating at a million miles per minute whilst he mulls over the blonde's words.
All he can focus on is the panicked and scared looks on Lucas and Mike's faces, and the shiny bruise on Dustin's forehead. And Eddie's being given the choice for them to not be bullied for the rest of the whole year, to finally not be terrorized every time they walk into school.
"Still want to call off the bet?" Jason mocks, extending a hand forward. "Shake my hand and it's over."
Eddie stares at the blonde's outstretched hand in silence.
He doesn't shake it.
-----------------------------------------
You can barely sit still, the low humming of Billy Joel flowing from your record player barely settling your nerves as you shift back and forth between your bed and the full length mirror in your room, criticizing every stray hem of your dress. There's a quiet set of knocks against your door and you yell out that you're not ready yet, expecting it to be Hopper.
"It's me!" El announces. "I can help you get dressed, if that's okay?"
Dropping your dress onto your bed, you open the door with a large smile, the excited and eager expression on your younger sister's face too sweet to reject. She sits on your bed with her legs dangling off, watching as you hold up different fabrics up to your chest and ask for her approval. After a several tries and pleas for you to "spin around", you two settle on a nice baby blue doll dress with a sweetheart neckline.
"Can I try doing your mascara?" El then asks quietly, pointing to the mess of makeup littered on your vanity. You laugh, nodding, closing your eyes quietly as her shaky hands attempt to carefully brush through your lashes with the wand. To your delighted surprise, she's a master at it, even going so far as to blend out your eyeshadow perfectly when you hand over your brushes to her.
"What shoes are you wearing?" she asks immediately after that, practically bouncing with excitement.
"I'm starting to think you're more excited about me going to prom than I am, El." you tease, opening your closet and pulling out a pair of sparkly white heels.
"Oh, I can't help it!" she gushes. "It's like all the romantic movies I watched, they always end with the girl and the boy going to prom. It's so romantic." she dreamily sighs, landing on your bed with her back on the mattress.
"Does that make me the protagonist?" you joke, strapping on your heels as you lean down towards your feet.
"Duh. And it makes Eddie your love interest."
"Very handsome, very charming, love interest, I'd like to add." Eddie suddenly cuts in, standing behind your door with a smug smile on his face. It fades into a soft, adoring grin when he sees you in your dress, dolled up and pretty yet still so naturally you. He hopes you can't tell that he loses his cool at the sight, voice slightly strained and tips of his ears flushing pink. "You look absolutely gorgeous, princess."
"Thanks. You don't look so bad yourself." you comment, throwing him a flirtatious wink. It's no lie, he cleans up well - the suit is a little awkward on him in some places, but the clean cut look makes his jaw stand out more, lean muscle straining the fabric perfectly.
"Shall we get going, my dear love interest?" you joke, offering one arm forward. El scrambles off your bed to hold open the door for you as Eddie wraps one of his arms around yours, nodding.
"We shall." he puts on a horrible posh accent, making you laugh at his antics. Hopper asks - no, practically demands - to sneak in a couple polaroids of you two together before you're burning with embarrassment and desperately shoving Eddie out the door, calling out to your father that you'd be back by midnight.
By the time the two of you pull up to the gymnasium, the party's already started. You're buzzing with anticipation and nerves when Eddie gently helps you hop off of his van, eyes burning with so much adoration that you can't even meet his gaze without melting.
"Bet you that the punch is gonna suck." he whispers into your ear, the flashing lights overhead blinding your eyes ever so slightly.
"Meh, that's why I did this."
You hike up the skirt of your dress to reveal a bottle of vodka strapped to your thigh, Eddie watching in awe as you twist off the red metal cap and pour him a shot into a red solo cup.
"God, I fucking love you." he moans, practically whining it against your lips. You smirk.
"I know."
Eddie's not thinking of anything but how beautiful you look - so carefree, hands thrown up in the air, bubbly laughter erupting from your throat when he dips you or tugs you towards the food stand - that he doesn't even register Jason and his boys' persistent gazes throughout the night. It's only when you declare that you need some fresh air that he's broken out of his lovesick trance, his jacket finding home on your shoulders as you two lean against the wall of the school building.
"Having too much fun?" Eddie teases, knocking his shoulders against yours.
"Definitely. That, and the three shots of vodka and all the pizza grease is melting my brain."
"Ditto."
Eddie's shoulders tense when he hears sets of footsteps approach, accompanied by the drunken yellings of Jason and his friends. Hands flying to your waist, he pulls you upwards, unreadable expression on his face.
"Let's go back inside." Eddie suddenly hurries out, clearly panicked. You frown, confused.
"We literally just came outside."
"I-I know, but uh, let's go-"
"MUNSON!!!!! There's the man of the hour." Oliver screams, cupping his hands together to amplify his voice across the parking lot. Eddie freezes in place, trapped, as you scowl and cross your arms over your chest.
"Piss off, asshole." you bark back, stepping in front of Eddie protectively.
"Oh, got your little bitch fighting your fights now, impressive. You trained her well, freak." Nate drawls, practically tripping over his words with how drunk he is. Eddie can hear his heartbeat ringing in his ears, panic settling in.
"Don't talk about her like that." he manages to choke out, standing up on shaky legs. But he falters under Jason's gaze, green with envy and red hot with anger, as the blonde steps forward in front of his friends.
"Come on, freak, you can drop the act now. You've won the bet, fair and square."
"What bet?" you stumble backwards in shock, frantic eyes flying to Eddie, who is now suddenly refusing to meet your gaze. "Eddie, what's going on?"
"Ah right, of course little miss ice queen would be confused! Let me break it down for you, sweetheart." Jason practically shouts, clapping his hands together with a gleeful smile. "Back in December, your little boyfriend and I waged a bet. This loser thought he could do a better job asking out girls than me, so I said that if he could get your prissy ass to say yes to a date and to prom, he'd win."
"What?"
Eddie doesn't have the courage to look at you. He's sparing himself the trouble of having to see the crestfallen look on your face, of having to actually see for himself the way your hopes come crashing down into a pile of rubble, to be standing in the aftermath of his destruction.
"We're all impressed that he managed to succeed." the blonde jokes, his two friends eagerly nodding from the back. "Guess we underestimated your abilities, freak." Jason reaches forward and punches Eddie in the shoulder, knocking him back against the wall.
"(Y/n), I can explain-" Eddie starts out lowly, but you're not willing to hear any of it. He can see it in your eyes: in a moment's notice, you've pulled back up all your defences, warmth and kindness disappearing behind your walls as your voice drips with venom.
"Fuck off, Munson."
The laughter of the basketball players continuously rings in Eddie's ears as he chases after you, desperately trying to catch up to you as you run across the parking lot.
"Please, just hear me out-"
"NO." you announce firmly, spinning on your heels and staring up at him with burning hatred. You've never stared at him with anything other than fondness and warmth the past few months. It's then gut wrenching that the fury with which you're glaring at him now - the lack of any kind of kindness or playfulness in your eyes - is unprecedented.
"You know, I knew this was too good to be true." you start, voice shaky. "God, you have no idea how many fucking times I found myself thinking throughout the course of our relationship - no, even when we were just fucking friends - that I didn't deserve this. That there was a reason no one wanted to be my friend. But I was a fucking idiot, because-"
You choke on your words, a sob hanging by the edge of your lips, but you bitterly swallow it down. You'd be damned if Eddie gets your tears on top of everything else.
"Because I thought this was my reward. I was thinking, finally, after all these years of suffering, I could get something nice. New friends, new family, a boy who liked me for who I was... But I realize now that I was nothing more than a joke to you. A sleazy bet with the sleaziest douchebags in school."
"(Y/n)-" Eddie tries again, he can feel you slipping through his fingers and it's breaking him, heart aching to just have you in his arms again. But all you do is shake your head sideways, gritting your teeth as you shrug off his jacket and throw the fabric against his chest.
"Don't fucking talk to me again. If you even so much as look at me, I'll ask Hopper to step in."
"At least let me drive you home." he quietly mutters. "You don't even have a car."
"Save it. I'll take the bus."
Eddie stands there staring at his jacket in his hands, your perfume still lingering in the fabric as he watches hopelessly you walk away into the dark woods.
"Fuck." he breathes out, tears stinging his eyes.
He's fucked up. Really, really badly.
------------------------------------
Steve and Robin both glare daggers into Eddie's back as he shuffles through the aisles of Family Video, both of them pretending to be busy when he'd first entered the store and muttered a quiet "hello." They're pissed at him, for good reason, of course, but it's awkward to know that his friends (who are also your friends) have all turned on him.
It's even more awkward having to make excuses as to why you're no longer showing up to band practice or to D&D sessions to the oblivious freshman and his other friends like Jeff and Gareth, who always looked forward to your sarcastic comments and humorous quips to pass the time.
"Just this, please." Eddie says, throwing a VHS tape of Evil Dead onto the counter. Both Steve and Robin stare down at the tape, then at Eddie, before resuming their conversation behind the counter as if they've never seen him. Eddie rolls his eyes, suppressing a deep sigh.
"Come on guys, this is childish. This isn't even for me, this is for Gareth."
"Then why didn't he come here and rent it himself?" Robin interrogates, tone harsh and dry.
"Got held up doing house chores by his mom. Just scan this damn thing, I'll pay, and I'll be right out of your eyesight, okay?" Eddie's practically pleading at this point and Robin sends Steve a knowing look, forcing the other boy to jump off of his seat and begin to mindlessly scan the tape.
"That'll be $2.50."
In between the painfully awkward and silent transaction, Eddie's looking at everywhere but his friends' faces. Their silent frustration, disapproval and disappointment is too heavy to bear, alongside the heavy guilt and crushing depression he's been experiencing the past two weeks since prom.
"Why'd you do it?" Steve blurts out mid-handing off the tape to Eddie, causing Robin to slap her best friend across the shoulder for his outburst.
"What?"
"I just, I don't get it. It doesn't make sense. I saw - we both saw -" Steve gestures to Robin, sending her a warning glare. "How you looked at (Y/n). How you spoke about her. How much you loved her. What'd you even bet for?"
Pocketing the tape into his back pocket, Eddie sighs slowly, contemplating whether or not to tell them the truth. But hell, he's got nothing to lose at this point, he figures.
"Happened over a weed dealing. I was just talking shit, really, because Jason's ego was bruised after being rejected by (Y/n). We bet over me being able to successfully ask her out to a date and then to prom. If I won, the conditions were that Jason would buy for double - and I knew that Wayne was tight on money, and the trailer's been long overdue for a fix. And he also, uh... said if I won the bet, he'd stop bothering me and my friends."
Eddie doesn't notice it, because he's staring down at his hands whilst rambling, but Steve and Robin exchange a sympathetic glance as Eddie continues to pour his heart out.
"I tried pulling out a million times. But for one reason or another, I could never do it. I was a coward, don't get me wrong, but... when she told me she loved me, I knew it'd gone too far. I was so intently committed to breaking the bet off, consequences and money be damned, but then I saw Henderson had a bruise on his face from Jason roughing him up." Eddie swallows nervously, throat feeling prickly and dry. "I couldn't back out of it then. I didn't want any of the kids to get more hurt when I could prevent it."
"Oh, Eddie..." Robin says quietly, placing a warm hand on his arm. He only shakes her off though, forced grin pulling his lips apart.
"It's whatever. Point is, regardless of good intentions or bad circumstances, I was a fucking coward. And a liar. And an asshole. I broke her heart and I deserve all the bad things in the world for that."
"Does she know any of this?" Steve presses, eyebrows furrowed in confusion.
"No. I haven't spoken to her since prom. Never even so much as drove past her home. Pretty sure Hopper would shoot my tires flat if I tried, anyways." Eddie weakly jokes.
"You should tell her. If not for you, than for her. She deserves to know the truth."
The metalhead only sighs at that, shaking his head lightly in denial.
"She already knows the truth, Steve."
"Not the bet, but the reasons behind the bet. Your feelings through out the whole thing. How you tried to pull out but you couldn't. I mean the whole truth, Eddie." Steve insists, unwavering.
"I can't believe I'm saying this, but I agree with this loser." Robin dryly comments, flicking Steve's forehead. Steve scowls at that, sending the brunette girl a playful glare before turning around to stare at Eddie.
"Seriously. Let her know the truth. It'll both do you good."
"If I were you though, I'd bring chocolates as a peace offering or something, because I did hear that Hopper got a new rifle last week." Robin adds, swinging her legs off the counter as Eddie rolls his eyes.
"Gee, thanks, Buckley."
"Don't sweat it, Munson."
"....Thanks." Eddie quietly whispers, genuinely touched by his friends' advice. Their words continue to replay in his mind like a broken record on his drive back home and out of the corner of his eyes, Eddie continues to see a phantom outline of you. Sitting next to him, singing from the driver's seat, hair being ruffled from the open window.
You're still haunting him, he still can't stop thinking about you. Mulling it over, he realizes that the least he can do is to try. Try and talk to you, to iron things out.
He just hopes you're willing to listen.
---------------------------------------
Eddie doesn't think he's ever felt this nervous before.
Standing by your front porch, throwing small pebbles at your bedroom window late at night, hoping that you notice the odd sounds and look outside. It's weird - a part of him is screaming at him to run away, that this was a mistake and that he should run into his van and drive home right now. But there's another part of him, one which is stronger and louder, reminding him that he has to explain himself to you.
He sees you lean out your window with a confused expression on your face, eyes scanning the night sky and trees before landing on his figure. You roll your eyes and slam your window shut, forcing him to escalate his plan.
The next time Eddie's knocking on your window he's precariously balancing on the slippery roof tiles, gripping onto your windowsill for dear life and hoping you have enough mercy in your heart to let him in. You're still scowling when you open your window back up, but this time there's a hint of care and worry in your eyes.
"What the fuck are you doing? You got a death wish, Munson?" you hiss, careful to not wake anyone else in the house.
"Well you weren't going to let me in the normal way, so I had to do the next best thing." he weakly offers, fingers turning white. "Are you going to let me in so I don't die, then?"
You click your tongue, swearing under your breath.
"Just because I don't want to attend your fucking funeral." you warn, stepping back and letting him climb in through your window. He practically falls onto the floor face first, limbs awkwardly tumbling forward, his left arm catching his fall ever so slightly in an effort to save the bouquet of flowers and chocolate from getting crushed.
"H-here." he shakily offers them by thrusting the items into your hands, which you cautiously take before throwing it behind you on the bed.
"Thanks. You can leave now."
"Wait, wait, wait-" he rushes to block off your access to the door before you can push him out the bedroom, making you stomp your feet in frustration.
"What, Eddie? I'm fucking tired, it's a Wednesday night, for fuck's sake."
"I know you don't want to talk to me. But it's fucking killing me that you don't even know the whole story. Please, hear me, out. Just five minutes, and if you still want me to leave, I... I will."
You should be laughing at his face. You should be your usual coldhearted self, uncaring smirk lacing your lips as you shove him out the front door and throw the flowers and chocolate back onto his chest. But you can't find it in yourself to do so.
Damn Eddie Munson and his handsome face, you think. You also can't deny the lingering affection you hold for him, and fuck... you have missed him. Greatly. The amount of times you've cried in the past two weeks is a testament to that.
The worst harm's already been done, you think. Might as well hear him out.
"Fine. You've got five minutes." you say, and you can see his face light up visibly with joy and relief.
"Thank you. The bet, listen, it... it happened during a drug deal. Jason was pissed that you'd rejected him and I was just trying to push his bottoms and toy with his fragile ego by boasting that I could probably be better with girls than him. He knew that I was having money issues and the trailer needed to be fixed, so he cut me a deal. If I got you to say yes to a date, then he'd start paying double for our weed dealings." Eddie rushes out, speaking so fast that he has to catch a deep breath in between.
"Then I added I wanted him to stop bothering me and my friends at school. Especially now that I got the freshman kids to look out for, I just wanted his word that he'd stop bothering them all. In return for that, however, it was additionally agreed that I'd also have to get you to say yes to prom."
"That's... oddly sweet of you. Kind of." you mutter, thoughts running a million miles per hour at the revelation. You figured that the bet was just a joke to exploit you. Not something Eddie agreed to in an effort to protect his uncle and his friends.
"It's really not, because I hurt you. I knew from the beginning that this was wrong. I had this persistent, sick, stabbing sensation in my stomach all throughout our friendship that this was wrong. I tried to lie to myself that I hadn't done anything bad yet, because we hadn't even started dating, but I knew it was only a matter of time before we became real. And once that happened, I..." he chuckles sadly, gaze lowering to the floor.
"I liked the illusion of us together too much to pull back. The bet was always lingering in the back of my mind, sure. But I liked you too much. I love you too much. So I ignored it. Even if it was fake, it felt real whenever I got to hold you and kiss you."
He runs a quick hand through his hair before resuming.
"And then the night that you told me you loved me, I panicked. It was like I was finally awake, like icy cold water had been dumped over my head and I saw what a fucked up mess I'd gotten us into. I told Jason the next day that the bet was off, but... he held the end deal of our bargain over my head. The part about no longer bullying my friends. And Dustin had gotten a black eye that morning from a rough altercation with Jason and I... I didn't end up backing out of the deal because of that. But I tried to get out. God, I tried many, many times. Maybe not as strongly as I should've, but there were numerous times where I tried to get out of the deal." Eddie affirms, pleading.
"So... all of that. All the lying, all the secrets, all the play pretend... was it worth it?" you whisper out loud, hands clutching at your sides as you hug yourself and look up at him.
"Yes." Eddie responds automatically, confident. "Because it meant I got to have you. And I never faked my feelings for you. Not even once. That was all, always, genuine."
You're left to stare at him in silence, teeth tugging at your bottom lip as you reflect over his words, Eddie taking in shallow breaths as he carefully surveys your reaction. He can't read your mind right now, he so badly wishes he could see what you're thinking because your expression is kept tight and neutral through it all.
"Do you... still want me to leave?" he whispers quietly. You don't speak, you don't nod nor deny him, you just continue to stare at him with a blank expression.
It's enough of an answer for him.
"You do, huh?" he chuckles, the sound as hollow as his heart. "It's fine, I uh, knew you wouldn't want me again after this. But you... you deserved to know the truth. Again, I'm so sorry for hurting you. I love you though. And I never lied about that."
He's hoping that you're going to stop him from leaving. That this is going to be the breakthrough moment in those romantic films, where you cut him off from speaking with a fierce kiss and whisper forgiveness against his lips, pinning him against the door.
But you don't even twitch. You just silently nod, unreadable expression on your face, and let him brush past you and walk down the stairs silently.
Eddie's heart stills feels heavy, grieving the loss of you and your love. But his shoulders feel ever so lighter, knowing that he's done the right thing by apologizing and explaining himself. He still feels like shit, he still thoroughly plans on smoking at least two packs when he gets back to his trailer, but he feels like he can breathe a tiny bit easier now.
"Wait."
Your voice suddenly rings out from behind him, your front door hanging open behind you as you've clearly ran through the house in a rush. Eddie jumps up in surprise, bewildered that you've chased him down the stairs.
"Y-yeah?" he stumbles out, pulling away from his van door.
"I forgive you. Sort of, I mean, it'll take a while for me to get over it and to fully trust you again but I... I still love you. Do you still love me too?" you whisper, doubtful.
Eddie almost wants to laugh at that question: that you'd even think for a second that he's spent any moment of the past two weeks being anything but in love with you.
"Of course I do, princess. Never stopped."
"Then that's all that matters."
This kiss tastes and feels totally new. Salty tears, mint toothpaste, your shaky fingers grabbing his as Eddie pulls you in impossibly close.
He's trying to memorize every aspect of you, having been starved of your presence for too long, committing every single aspect of you to memory. How you taste against his lips. How your body fits right against his when he places an arm around your waist. How your hair tickles his neck from this angle, moonlight shining a halo around the crown of your head.
You try to pull away a few times to catch your breath, but he doesn't let you, your giggles being swallowed by another needy kiss.
Eddie doesn't ever want to lose you again. Not even for a second.
a/n: if anybody actually read to the end of this story... thank you, truly, from the bottom of my heart. This story has been a true labor of love, sweat and tears and countless hours of work. Whilst I was re-editing this I realized I kind of don't like how it turned out but I worked so hard on it and I already announced I was gonna post it so here it goes, I guess.
I've had this concept of a social outcast x Eddie reader with a enemies to lovers trope thrown in for a while so I'm just glad that I got it out my system. Totally nervous and completely unsure of how this will be received (my longest fic to date) but it's out now. Thank you for reading ❣️
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