OMG, the requests I have been getting for Steve Harrington and Gator Tillman are so, so good!! Like truly, so creative! Best believe I’ll be working on them right away!!
Hi! Sorry to be a bother but do you have part three to hopes and fears? The links aren’t working for it on part five, and honestly I just started the school spirits fandom and I enjoy your work!
No worries at all my love! Hopefully this link to Part Three, should work but just give me a shout if it doesn’t. I’ll add part four and five as well! I’m so pleased you enjoy my work and can’t thank you enough for giving it a read.
All Your Fault (Steve Harrington x Henderson!Reader)
Word Count: 12.5K
Summary: In no world could Y/N like Steve Harrington, that's what she kept telling herself despite everybody's insistence that he was a good guy. They couldn't possibly be right, could they?
Warnings - Mature Language, Suicide, Mentions Of Sex, Death, Injuries, Bullying, Drug Use
A/N: This is my longest fic yet and of course it's for the one and only Steve Harrington! Just wanted to say that I know this doesn't follow the exact plot and I have changed some things so it fits in with the storyline. Also I am not condoning bullying in any way, shape or form!! Not proofread so forgive me.
“Hey, dingus, we need a ride!”
My bedroom door swings open, just about slamming against the wall before the irritating voice of my younger brother reverberates throughout my bedroom. Startled by the noise, my head snaps in Dustin’s direction. Not expecting to see his little group of friends in tow or for them to be in the company of Steve Harrington and Robin Buckley. Who I know them to spend a lot of time with nowadays despite my incessant complaints about Harrington being quite possibly the worst person on planet.
“Dude! Knock much?” I groan, swiftly closing the notebook that I had previously been writing in, in order to avoid any wandering eyes. “I was in the middle of something!”
“What? Making out with your stuffed toys?” Dustin jokes, resulting in a few snickers from his friends and a roll of their eyes from the older teens.
“I’d be happy to make out with you.” Mike comments, my brother throwing a small tap to the back of his head in disapproval.
“Ew gross. Get out of my bedroom you little perverts!”
“Listen dickhead, mom and dad have gone to the movies and if I’m remembering correctly they said you have to drive me places when they’re not here. So, we’ll be taking that ride now please.”
“Fuck’s sake.” I grumble, combing my fingers through my hair in annoyance. “Doesn’t your new best friend Steve drive?”
My voice is laced with malice, eyes fixated on the older boy with a glare, eyebrows raised as I await his response. Not that I needed any confirmation, everybody in Hawkins knows that Steve drives. God, he never shuts up about his deep red BMW, it’s one of his more insufferable qualities.
“Yeah, my car is kind of in the garage right now. It’s gonna be out of action for a while.” He admits, cheeks flushing a soft scarlet indicating his embarrassment.
“So that makes you our designated driver.” Dustin tells me, a smug look on his face as he knows that I have no option but to accept defeat. “Plus, your truck is a lot bigger than Steve’s car. You won’t even have to speak to us because we’ll sit in the bed!”
“Fine! But I am not giving you a ride home because I’ve got a shift at the roller rink tonight and I cannot afford to take another night off!” I state, reluctantly grabbing my keys and throwing my fur coat over my shoulders.
Making my way towards the group, they’re quick to make their way down the staircase, scurrying out the front door as though afraid I may change my mind at any given second. I take my time locking up the house, wanting to delay the inevitability of having Steve Harrington in my truck for as long as I physically can. Sure, it’s annoying having to cart my brother and his friends around the town of Hawkins at their will, but the kids, I can deal with. One of my childhood bullies, not so much.
Strolling over to the garage, it’s hard to miss the way Steve and Robin stand close to one another, giggling like school girl’s at whatever they were discussing. With furrowed brows, I can’t help but wonder when they became friends. Not only is Robin a year younger than Steve and I, but she’s also the complete opposite of Steve’s normal company. After all, he is friends with cheerleaders and jocks, Buckley is in the school band and spends most of her free time studying other languages. There is no world in which they could possibly be friends and yet here they are.
“Steve and Robin are gonna ride up front with you.” Dustin speaks, clambering into the bed of the truck with very little grace.
“What? No, you can all get in the back!” I argue, offering Max a hand as she struggles to pull herself up.
“Sorry but eight of us back here is too much of a squeeze, guess you’ll just have to make do.” Lucas remarks, arguing my brother’s case for him, forcing me to plaster on a fake smile as if I couldn’t be happier.
“Okay. Let’s just hope I don’t crash on the way, I’d hate to see a six body pile up on the side of the road.” My tone is ominous and I catch the slight gleam of fear in each and every one of the kid’s eyes. “Where am I taking you assholes?”
“Starcourt please Y/N.” Max hastily replies, hand clutching the side of the truck so tight her knuckles are turning white and I smirk to myself as I close the tailgate, pleased I have managed to instill a sense of panic in the usually overly confident group.
Hopping up into the driver’s seat, I’m about to turn on the ignition when out of the corner of my eye, I register that Steve has taken it upon himself to choose the middle seat. Situating himself comfortably between Robin and I.
“Uh no. Not happening. You two need to switch sides.”
“What why?” Steve questions and I could be wrong but I’m almost positive there is a twinge of hurt in his tone.
“Because I don’t mind Robin.” I smile sweetly at the girl, before replacing it with a scowl as my eyes lay on the chestnut haired doofus. “You, on the other hand, I’d rather take a knife to the eye, than sit besides you.”
As much as it feels like a punch to the gut when I spot the pained expression wash over Harrington’s face, it is completely overshadowed by the sense of pride that I feel at being able to make him feel small, the same way him and his posse of imbeciles did to me for years. I know, deep down, that I should be the bigger person, that just because he treated me poorly throughout our school years that I shouldn’t do the same to him. Yet, I’m resentful. I’m resentful and having accepted the cruelty of this world, I’m also bitter. No longer the sweet and optimistic young girl that I once was.
“Yeah, I actually can’t take the middle seat.” Robin confesses, an awkward smile resting on her face. “I get real bad claustrophobia.”
With an exasperated huff, I focus my eyes on the road as we begin the drive, doing my best to ignore the passenger sitting beside me. Even if I am trying to distract myself, I’m unable to hide my annoyance, hands gripping the steering wheel so hard, I’m afraid it may shatter beneath me.
Fortunately it’s only a short ten minute drive to the Starcourt Mall, as long as traffic is in my favor, I should even shave off a couple of minutes. Though the silence within the small space is deafening, frustrating me even more. Before I can stop myself, I’m reaching over to turn on the radio, hoping the joyful melodies of Joe Jackson’s Steppin’ Out will boost my mood before my shift.
Unluckily for me, as I reach to grab the steering wheel once again, my hand lightly brushes over Steve’s hand, causing me to flinch away with such force it feels as though I have been electrocuted.
“Sorry.” Steve mumbles, tucking his hands away into his pockets to avoid any more uncomfortable interactions.
“So, I’m sensing a teeny bit of tension here.” Robin comments, stating the obvious.
“Yeah, no shit Robin.” I snap, feeling my entire body go stiff at her teasing.
Glancing over at the two teens, I take note of the way Robin slumps down into the seat at my words. Folding her arms over her chest as if she’s a child that has just been scolded by their parents.
“Why are the kids so desperate to go to Starcourt anyway?” I ask, not directing the question at either of them in particular in an attempt to change the subject, feeling slightly guilty at my previous outburst.
“Oh um, we’re meeting Eddie, just thought it’d be nice to take that bunch of losers out for the day you know. Nancy and Jonathan might even be joining us later too!” Robin explains, smiling to herself as she peers out the back window to make sure the kids are doing fine.
“Besides, they deserves a break with everything that’s been-”
“What Steve means to say is that they’ve had a lot on at the moment, what with school. We think they’re getting a little stressed.” Robin interrupts, doing her best to subtly elbow Steve’s stomach, though I’m able to spot it, mostly because his body jerks into mine as she does so.
“Why do I feel like there’s something you’re not telling me?” I ask, slyly peering over at them from the corner of my mouth.
“Nope, we’re not hiding anything.” Robin asserts, turning away from me to gaze out of the window.
“Yeah, nothing to tell. Definitely nothing going on.” Steve agrees, the haste in which they both answered only raising my suspicions.
Before I can question them even further, I realize I’m pulling into the Starcourt parking lot. Quickly finding a space and turning off the ignition, I don’t give the duo any time to get out of the car before I’m turning the child lock on, forcing them to remain in the vehicle with me.
“I swear to God, if my baby brother is in any sort of trouble and you haven’t told me, I’ll kill the pair of you, okay?” I ask, both of them nodding their heads furiously at my threat and leaping out of the passenger door the moment that I unlock it.
Rolling down my window, I can hear the kids hopping over the side of the truck, eagerly chattering amongst themselves at the plans they have made for the day. Tiny smile forming on my face as I light a cigarette, watching Dustin jokingly fight with Steve. The interaction holds no maliciousness, I can see no sign of the older boy deliberately trying to hurt him and for a split second I find myself questioning whether it could be possible that the great King Steve has changed in his ways. However, I’m quick to shake that thought away.
“Do my eyes deceive me or is that Y/N Henderson?” Eddie Munson’s voice calls from a mere few feet away.
“Oh shit.” I whisper, taking a long drag of my cigarette before jumping out of the truck and resting my back against the door, waiting for him to approach.
It’s safe to say Eddie and I have a complicated relationship. What started out as him simply being nothing more than my dealer, blossomed into a somewhat beautiful friendship. Considering we’re an unlikely duo, we have a lot in common. Sharing similar taste in films, books and sense of humor.
I suppose it was inevitable that we’d end up sleeping together. Fuelled by our drug induced state, we shared a very hot and very exciting night of passion together. Following with me sneaking out of his trailer first thing the next morning after I had slowly come to my senses and discerned that our relationship should remain just friends. Not wanting to pursue anything at this moment in time.
“Hey Eddie, it’s been a while.” I comment, flicking the ash from my cigarette onto the ground as he places an arm beside my head, caging me between his body and the truck.
“I never heard from you.” He speaks quietly, doing his best to avoid the attention of the group standing not too far from us.
“I’m sorry. I’ve had a lot going on.” I mumble, looking anywhere but the boy in front of me.
As my gaze finds the group, my eyes instantly fall upon Steve Harrington. He’s speaking to Max, clearly in some sort of debate with her that looks like it may be about to explode into a full blown argument, yet his attention is solely focused on me. Observing the close proximity between me and the metalhead. His eyes falling to my lips as I allow the smoke to exhale from my mouth.
“You know, you could at least look at me when I’m talking to you.” Eddie chuckles, attempting to hide the hurt undertone in his voice, head rotating to follow the direction of my eyeline.
“Sorry, I just don’t get what Harrington’s problem is. He’s been staring over here this entire time.” I tell him, finally staring up at the tall boy.
“Isn’t it obvious?” He asks, teasing smile resting upon his lips. I shake my head slowly, dropping the cigarette to the ground. “He thinks you’re hot.”
My hands slap against his chest instinctively, the idea being completely and utterly absurd to me that I have to laugh.
“I’m serious! Look at you, you’re a fucking smoke show.” Eddie asserts, pushing his argument even more as he sneaks another glance over to the topic of our conversation. “Want me to prove it?”
The idea of Steve Harrington finding me even remotely attractive is so far off the table that I find myself entertained by the idea of proving Eddie wrong. I’m sure he’s simply intrigued by the idea of me and the freak being friends, nothing more.
With a small nod, Eddie’s hands drop to my waist, touch as light as a feather to not push any boundaries that I may not be comfortable with. Playing along with his antics, I take the lapels of his leather jacket in my hands, pulling his body impossibly closer to mine. The hard expression on Steve’s face is difficult to miss as Eddie’s head rests in the crook of my neck, peppering gentle kisses along the base.
“Ew Eddie, come on man! That’s my sister!” Dustin’s whines pull us back to reality and Eddie takes a dramatic step away from me to please the curly haired young boy.
Although we now stand with plenty of space between the two of us, Harrington’s face remains in the same cold expression as before. Jaw clenched tightly as his eyes flick between Eddie and I. Leaving me more confused than ever at what his problem is.
“Alright, see you later kids.” I shout, climbing back into my truck and leaving them in the capable hands of their babysitters. “Don’t be causing any trouble!”
***
Steve could think of nothing other than the mean girl that had reluctantly drove them to the mall. It didn’t matter how many stores they went in, or arcade games they played, he just couldn’t get her off his mind. Wondering why she had such a huge vendetta against him. What could he possibly have done to this girl, that he is almost certain he has never met before, to cause her to act in such an unpleasant way towards him.
He knew he hadn’t been the nicest of guys throughout high school, caring more about his popularity and how his friends perceived him than being a decent person. However, he was sure he’d remember if he had been rude to her. He was sure he wouldn’t have been rude to a girl like her. Hell, he was wondering why he hadn’t pursued her sooner. Her beauty indescribable and more radiant than any other girl he had seen before.
“Steve, what’s going on? I’m regretting picking you to be on my team!” Dustin exclaims, frustrated at the loss of yet another game due to Steve’s lack of focus.
“That was your sister?” He asks in disbelief, still completely overwhelmed by the limited interaction they had shared hours prior.
“Yeah, she’s a full on bitch right?” Dustin comments, unaware of his friend’s infatuation.
“Has she always been that unkind?” Steve asks, causing Dustin to look up at him with a questioning glint in his eye.
“Oh you got to face her wrath did you?” The younger boy laughs, amused at the thought of his normally cool and charming friend being bitched out by his older sister. “Yeah, she still hates you dude, never shuts up about you actually.”
“Wait, she talks about me?” His tone is hopeful, feeling pleased to know that he’s on her mind. I mean, that’s got to be a good sign, right?
“Calm down loverboy. It’s not a good thing.” Dustin smirks, though when he sees the downcast look on his friend's face, he can’t but sigh, patting him on the shoulder lightly. “Look, I think you’re cool, smart, charming, and some would say classically handsome but my sister usually refers to you as a no good, shit for brains, wank stain. Amongst other things, that’s usually her preferred term.”
Steve sighs at his words, combing his fingers through his hair awkwardly as he comes to terms with the fact that he quite possibly has a zero percent chance of becoming romantically involved with the intriguing girl. He knew that since leaving high school his luck with the ladies had severely dwindled, struggling to maintain a relationship that didn’t solely focus on sex, and yet, his heart sank a little lower knowing that the one girl that had truly piqued his interest was the one girl he would never stand a chance with.
Dustin, on the other hand, took pity on the boy he looked up to. Despite the countless tales of torture and misery that he knew Steve had put his sister through during their school years, he knew that the boy had changed. Sure, he’d felt sympathy towards Steve when he ended up working at Scoops Ahoy following his graduation, knowing how much it took a hit to his ego that he’d lost his King Steve title and was now serving children scoops of ice cream every passing day. However, he knew that the shitty job was a good thing for his friend, alongside his role as the unofficial group babysitter and assisting in their pursuit to save Hawkins, Dustin knew deep down that taking such a low blow was Steve’s saving grace. Reminding him that he wasn’t in fact above everybody else and truly changing him for the better. The young boy had seen it, but he also couldn’t blame his sister for being blind to it.
“Look Steve, I know that you’re a good person and I know that you’ve changed but you put Y/N through hell. She struggled a lot at the hands of you and your friends and I know she’d kill me for telling you this but she’s been in therapy since she was fourteen years old because of what you guys did to her. We were really worried about her actually.” Dustin admits, Steve’s breath catching in his throat as he hears the shakiness in the boy’s voice. “My parents still are. She didn’t even bother applying to college, and now she spends most of her time hiding herself away in her room or getting high with Eddie.”
“Dustin I’m so sorry, I don’t even remember her.” Steve states, struggling to get over the sinking feeling in his stomach that seems to be consuming him.
“Of course you don’t remember her, you only thought about yourself and your stupid friends back then.” Those words hit Steve like a ton of bricks, never had anybody truly called him out on his former behavior, not to this extent anyway. “Look, you just need to show her you’re a good guy, I’m not gonna say it’ll be easy because if I know Y/N, then I know she can be a cruel, heartless bitch, but I also know that she has a good heart and as long as you can prove to her that you’re sorry and that you’ve changed then she’ll come around. Maybe just wait until after we’ve destroyed the Mind Flayer.”
***
Monday nights at the roller rink are always notoriously quiet, only a couple of people passing through our doors for the majority of the night. I’ve argued with my manager on numerous occasions, pleading with him to change our closing time from eleven to nine, but to no avail, I fail every single time. As a punishment for doing so, I’m placed on almost every monday night shift alone, which wouldn’t be too bad, had I something to do. Instead I stand at the counter, lazily snacking on some popcorn that I most definitely didn’t pay for, awaiting any customers that may wander into the building.
Hearing the large doors squeak open, I immediately straighten my posture, my best winning smile slapped on my face as I prepare to serve the group that just strolled through the doors. That is until I see the group just so happens to be the same group that I dropped off at the mall earlier in the day. Smile dropping from my face almost instantly.
“What do you want?”
“Don’t you mean, welcome to Paradise Skate World, how can I be of assistance?” Eddie jokes, leaning against the countertop.
“No, I mean what do you want?”
Wasting no time, the group excitedly shout their shoe sizes at me, a flurry of words and numbers that I struggle to understand. After swapping a few pairs multiple times, I finally manage to line nine pairs of rollerskates along the countertop, the kids frantically grabbing at them and discarding their personal shoes all over the floor. Not caring to use the cubby holes provided.
“That’ll be twenty seven dollars please.” My voice is monotonous, not caring to be pleasant with them, not that they seem to care.
Steve doesn’t speak as he hands over thirty dollars, mumbling a quiet ‘thank you’ as I hand him his change. He sits beside Robin on one of the dirty old benches, helping her to lace up the boots before slowly escorting her over to the rink where she is left in the capable hands of the younger teens. Who, for whatever reason, all seem to be incredibly confident on eight wheels.
Having lost sight of Steve as my attention was fixed on the kids gleefully skating around the rink, I round the counter preparing to pick up all of their discarded shoes, only to see the boy already on the floor matching pairs of shoes together.
“Oh, you don’t have to do that.” I tell him, joining him on the carpet to gather together the rest of the shoes.
If I didn’t dislike him so much, I’d think his actions were sweet. Paying for the entire group and cleaning up after them, he’s a customer service worker's dream, yet I still can’t help but feel resentful. Why couldn’t he have been like this in high school?
“I know, but those guys make so much mess that it’s not fair to leave it all for you to clean up.” Steve comments, placing the last pair of shoes in one of the cubby holes. He rises to his feet slowly before offering his hand to help me up. However, I choose not to accept his help, rising to my feet without his assistance.
“Thank you, I appreciate it.”
He smiles softly at me, returning to the bench to remove his own shoes and placing the rollerskates on. When he rises from the bench, I can’t help but giggle at the shakiness in his legs, standing like a baby deer, he just about makes it to the countertop before needing to grab hold of it in order to keep himself upright. Resulting in a loud laugh from me, finding much amusement in the situation.
“Need some help Harrington?” I ask through my roars of laughter, having to cover my mouth to keep my volume down as he looks at me with sheer panic in his eyes.
“You sure you don’t wanna just stand there and laugh at me in my time of need?” He questions, flashing a cheesy smile my way to ensure I know that he is joking.
With a small sigh, I make my way over to him, taking his hands in mine, forcing him to let go of the countertop that he was clutching onto.
“I may not like you Steve Harrington, but I’m not gonna let you fall on your ass like an idiot, not with the kids watching.” I state, walking backwards at a snail’s pace to allow him to find his feet. “Besides, it’s company policy to offer a hand when needed.”
Steve laughs at my words, a deep chuckle that causes my mouth to quirk upwards. Am I actually smiling in the presence of Steve Harrington? Shaking my head, I rid myself of the contentment on my face.
“I’m going to embarrass myself aren’t I?” He asks, staring over my shoulder towards the rink with worry. “I don’t know why they thought this was a good idea, I’ve never skated in my life.”
“That’s probably exactly why they wanted to come here. They get to embarrass you and they also get to annoy the fuck out of me at the same time.”
“I’ll try my best to keep them from annoying you, it’s the least I can do after ruining your peaceful evening.” His voice is soft, and I find myself unable to look away from his face.
It comes as no shock that the boy is attractive, he had girls falling over their feet for him since the moment he hit puberty. I’d never understood the obsession with King Steve, though I suppose I’d never been this close to him before. Never able to see how boyishly handsome he was.
Chestnut brown hair that falls lazily over his forehead, coffee coloured eyes that hold a deep softness and a cheeky twinkle. His nose falls in a perfect slope, lips plump in a gorgeous salmon color with a sprinkling of light freckles scattered across his face. He truly is the epitome of beauty, it’s just such a shame that his personality is completely lacking.
I’m snapped out of my trance when I feel the hardwood of the rink beneath my feet, hesitantly letting go of Steve’s hands as he pushes himself forward ever so slowly. Testing the waters as to how far he can go without falling flat on his face.
“Well you did it. Now you just have to show that pack of dickheads that their ploy to embarrass you isn’t going to work.”
He smiles at my comment, opening his mouth to say something in return, however, I spin myself around and hastily walk back to my position at the counter before he can say anything. Muttering a small ‘have fun’ as I do so. Not wanting to be entranced by him further and not wanting to forget about all the shit he put me through just because we had a fairly nice interaction for all of ten minutes.
In an effort to distract myself, I busy myself with cleaning any and every surface behind the counter. Very unusual behavior for me, but at this point, I would do anything to get the thought of Steve possibly being a good person out of my mind. Even if I have to spend my time cleaning to do so. Though, I guess anything is better than gazing longingly over at the boy in the rink and trying to ignore the racing of my heart.
“You know, I used to think Steve was a bad guy too.”
Robin’s voice startles me as I don’t notice her standing by the counter, she’s smirking playfully at me.
“How the fuck are you and him friends? I mean, no offense but you’re exactly the type of person whose life he would’ve ruined in high school.” I don’t mean to come across as rude but my tone definitely says otherwise, Robin raising her eyebrows at my statement, clearly taking offense.
“Steve has a good heart, he’s doing his best. I know it’s not my place to say anything and I have no idea what went down between the two of you but what I do know is that if he can reconcile with Nancy, Jonathan and Eddie then perhaps that’s a sign you should give him a chance.” Robin remarks and against my best judgment, my eyes instantly find him out on the floor of the rink. Max and El hold his hands as they drag him around, all proudly displaying their delight.
“He did a lot of fucked up shit to me Robs.” I sigh, knowing that no matter how much I want to forgive him, I’ll most likely take my hatred to the grave. “They all did.”
The girl follows my lead and releases her own sigh, reaching across the countertop to take my hands in her’s. Thumbs gently stroking the backs of my palms.
“I know, I’m not going to excuse his behavior. He was a complete asshole, even when I first met him, I thought he was an asshole but he proved me wrong. Trust me, I never thought I’d be over here vouching for Steve Harrington of all people.” Robin’s gaze never leaves mine as she speaks, asserting just how much she truly means the words she’s saying. “Just maybe try to let go of that grudge you’re holding, I reckon you two would actually make pretty good friends.”
***
Regardless of how much I tossed and turned, Robin’s words kept me awake for hours. Unable to sleep and with no sign of tiring myself out anytime soon, I decided to do the next best thing. Hence why I am now sitting on one of the many docks stretching out into the depths of Lovers Lake. Joint in hand as I try to process all the emotions I had managed to bury deep within me for so long.
The joint does nothing to soothe my shaking body, though I’m unsure of whether it’s from the frosty fall air or the recent events that seem to have dredged up everything in my past that I had tried to forget, either way, I wrap my fur coat tighter around myself as a weak attempt to ease the shaking. God, if only Dustin hadn’t gone and befriended the one person that caused me so much pain.
“Oh sorry, I didn’t realize anybody would be here.” The voice from behind catches me by surprise, not expecting anybody else to be down here at two am. Glancing over my shoulder, I can’t help but laugh at the world’s cruel sense of humor as the person racing through my mind stands only mere feet away. “Wait, are you crying?”
Raising a trembling hand to my face, I feel the dampness of my cheeks, clearly too high to discern that I had in fact been crying. The fact causing me to laugh once more and Steve’s face floods with one of worry, hesitantly trudging towards me and taking a seat beside me, swinging his feet over the side of the dock in the same manner as mine.
“Are you okay?” Steve asks, genuinely seeming to care about the reason for my tears, tone soft with no evidence of an ulterior motive.
“No.” I admit, offering him a weak smile whilst quickly wiping the tears away that roll down my face. “No, I’m not okay and I haven’t been for such a long time and I don’t even know why I’m telling you this because it’s all your fault.”
Steve’s mouth opens to speak and yet no words come out. Guilt scrawled across his face as he attempts to come up with the words to comfort me. Once again, I can’t help but laugh at the humorous nature of the situation. I’ve never opened up to anybody about how I’m truly feeling, hell, even my therapist doesn’t know the half of it but who feels comfortable enough to voice their darkest thoughts to a complete stranger in a very clinical setting? I’m going to blame the joint for my willingness to open up to the one person who I’d rather never speak to again.
“It’s probably really shitty of me and you probably don’t want to hear it but I am so sorry Y/N. Truly, I can’t even begin to describe how sorry I am.” Steve tells me, voice shaking and almost catching in his throat, however, he never once looks away from me. Forcing himself to own up to what he did. “Do you want to talk about it?”
Taking a drag of the joint, we remain in silence for a few moments, the only sounds to be heard are that of my repeated sniffles. It’s almost comforting in a way that the boy doesn’t speak, not rushing me nor pressuring me to accept his apology.
“It’s funny you know, I thought I would’ve moved on from it by now. I thought that as soon as I graduated I would’ve been able to forget everything that you and your friends did to me and leave it all in the past.” I state, not even knowing where to start. I never expected to be in this position, never thought I’d get the chance to confront the monsters from my childhood but as he sits before me, he doesn’t seem to be much of a monster. “You and Carol and Tommy, you guys destroyed me. You hated me so much that I began to hate myself and I’ve never recovered from that.”
Steve lets out a sharp exhale, causing me to look over at him and what I see shocks me deeply. Although he’s trying his best to hide it, I don’t miss the tears that fall slowly down his cheeks. Guilt consuming him as he comes to terms with his actions and the direct consequences they had as a result.
“I almost killed myself, Steve.”
My words hit him like a knife to the chest and his head is snapping to face me so fast, I fear he may have given himself whiplash. Mouth slightly open in shock as he processes what I just confessed.
“You, you wh-”
“You’re not to blame for that. I could never blame you for that.” I whisper, feeling lighter as I open myself up more and more for the very first time.
“How, how did-” Steve stops himself before he speaks, this time it’s him that’s wiping away tears. “What happened?”
I know Steve is questioning whether it’s appropriate to ask. Unsure of whether I’m willing to talk about the most traumatic most of my life thus far, especially with him. With nerves coursing through my veins, I shakily offer him the joint, he accepts with a small smile, slowly taking a long drag, allowing the weed to flood through his body.
“Junior year. I think I’d been planning it for a while, or at least thinking about it. That day, I think you must’ve been at a basketball game or something, Carol and Tommy they-” I sob hysterically, feeling so much shame as I explain everything to him. “They cornered me in an alley as I was walking home. It was just the usual insults, but when I didn’t react they got angry. I don’t really remember it all, I think I’ve tried to black it out but I woke up unconscious in that alley, and I just remember feeling so at peace when I laid there.
So I went home, ran straight up to my room because I didn’t want anybody to see me. As soon as I looked in the mirror, I just felt disgusting. My eye was all swollen and my face was just covered in bruises and scratches. Not that I felt beautiful before, but I felt hideous.
I’d been hoarding my pills for weeks at that point and I just began to take them. Handfuls at a time, I think I got about halfway through my stockpile before my mom walked in. She was screaming and crying and I couldn’t do anything, I just passed out.”
“Fuck.” Steve whispers, trying to suppress his own sniffles.
“I was in the hospital for about a week, apparently they pumped my stomach and I only have very minor damage to my internal organs. I had to practically beg them not to take me to the psych ward though.” I chuckle at the memory, pleading with the doctors that I was fine and it was all just a mistake, even though that couldn’t have been further from the truth.
“I had no idea that Carol and Tommy did that to you.” Steve admits, dropping the joint into the lake as he clenches his fists tightly at the thought of what took place in that alleyway. “I don’t expect you to forgive me, I could spend my life apologizing to you and it still wouldn’t be enough.”
I’ve never seen Steve so emotional before, candidly breaking down in the most vulnerable way as he allows his sobs to be released. Face flushed scarlet and throat raw from how much he is wailing. I thought I would feel better if I made him feel the same as he made me feel. If I made him cry so hard that he thought he would never feel happiness again. However, seeing him in this state doesn’t even make me the tiniest bit happier. It doesn’t bring me an ounce of joy to see the boy this way no matter how much I thought I would.
In all honesty, it hurts more so knowing that my words are the cause of the pain and turmoil that Steve is in right now. As much as I had built up such a cold and callous exterior trying desperately to protect myself from the harshness of this world, I know deep down that internally, I’m nothing like I portray myself to be.
Once he gains his composure, Steve manages to speak through deep breaths, “Do you know what’s funny?”
His question throws me off guard, tilting my head and raising a brow, alerting him of my piqued interest.
“I’ve also tried to block out most of high school. I didn’t even recognise you today and couldn’t understand why you were acting the way you were. Which I now realize makes me sound like even more of a dickhead.” He laughs quietly, awkwardly scratching the back of his neck to relieve the tension within him. “As soon as I got home, I spent hours, staring at your pictures in the yearbook, remembering everything that we put you through. I’ve never felt more guilty about something in my life and I felt disgusted with myself that I would treat such a beautiful person as though they were anything but.”
“You’re just saying that.” I retort, not wanting to believe that he would spend so long staring at the photos of me that I hated so much. Not only that but not wanting to believe he could find such photos of me to be beautiful.
“I mean it! I was a stupid, pathetic little boy that just wanted to prove myself to the people that I thought were cool. I never thought about the effect my actions were having on people and now that high school’s over, none of that popularity shit matters.” He states, wishing that he could take back all of the cruel things he did to his peers. “None of it matters. I’m a fucking loser now. I work at an ice cream store in the mall where I have to wear a stupid sailor’s outfit, I have no college prospects, no girlfriend and I hang out with a bunch of sixteen year olds in my spare time. All that high school shit, it means nothing now.”
“You’re not a loser Steve Harrington.” I giggle, nudging his shoulder gently with my own. “You’ve just made some very poor decisions that are now biting you on the ass.”
“Hey, why aren’t you at college? If the yearbook is anything to go by you were one of the smartest people in our grade.”
I try not to feel upset by the boy’s question, knowing he means no harm. However, I also know that as much as Steve has made poor decisions, so have I. Decisions that directly affected my path to college and resulted in me working at the roller rink.
“Didn’t study those yearbooks well enough clearly.” I joke, believing that if I’m able to laugh about my situation then perhaps I won’t burst into tears yet again. “Last year I kind of gave up with school. After what happened junior year, I just didn’t see the point in trying anymore. Started skipping classes and when I was there I was too high to learn anything. My grades dropped and so did my chances at college.”
“I really fucked things up for you didn’t I?” Steve asks, tone suggesting it’s more of a statement rather than I question.
“The roller rink isn’t so bad, I mean I get to skate for free and the pay is pretty good.”
I can tell he doesn’t quite believe me, he knows I’m bothered about not going to college, despite this, he doesn’t push me. Doesn’t force me to admit the truth. For that, I’m thankful.
Casting my gaze over the lake, the first light of the sun shines bright through the treeline. A warm amber glow, illuminating the still water beneath my feet. Birds wake from their slumber and their faint chirps echo across the lake. There’s something so peaceful within this moment and for the first time in years I feel as though a weight has been lifted from my chest. One that I was unaware had been weighing me down.
“I should probably be getting home before my parents wake up. Really don’t need to be giving my parents another reason to worry about me.” I state, steadily rising to my feet, the warmth instantly escaping my body as the sharp breeze nips at the full length of my body.
“Yeah, I should get back too, I should at least try to get some sleep before work.” Steve comments, walking in step with me along the dock.
We walk in silence, the sound of the dark oak creaking beneath our feet. A solemn cloud follows us as we head back to reality, most likely never to speak of this night again. Neither one of us wanting to reflect on the distress we shared at Lovers Lake.
“I think maybe people are right about you.” I declare upon reaching my truck, much to the shock of the boy standing opposite.
“What?” He asks, in disbelief at the confession I had just made.
“I think that maybe you are a good guy.”
***
“Have you taken your pills today?” My mom checks, shaking the little orange pill bottle on my desk as though she can feel if it is lighter than yesterday.
“Of course I have.” I mumble, dragging my hands across my face, exhausted from the late night I had endured.
“I’m only checking sweetheart, you know I worry about you.” She wraps her arms around me from behind as she speaks, squeezing me tightly, more so for her own comfort rather than mine. “Now, your dad and I are leaving town for a few nights. He has a meeting up in Indianapolis, but if you don’t feel like you’re well enough to stay here alone with Dusty then I am more than happy to stay behind.”
“Mom, I’ll be fine, honestly.” I whine, feeling guilty that she dwells on my wellbeing so much. “I promise.”
I love my parents. I really and truly do, more than anything on this earth. Nevertheless our relationship has been somewhat strained since the events of sophomore year. My mom treats me like I’m made of glass, one wrong move and I’ll shatter into one million tiny pieces. My dad is arguably even worse, refusing to even acknowledge what took place nor speaking on the topic of my mental stability. Dustin tries his hardest to make things feel normal, but there’s only so much a sixteen year old can do to try and hold their family in place.
Not only do I feel guilty about the way I make my parents stress about me, but I also feel guilty for the way this has affected Dustin. Our parents are often so preoccupied with ensuring that I’m well and doing fine, that they often forget about their other child. Sometimes, it feels as if I’m the only person that notices Dustin’s presence. Or lack thereof, what with him spending more and more time with his friends and Steve. Frequently returning home stressed, anxious or just generally in a bad mood and in all honesty his behavior has started to concern me. Though it appears that I may have been the only one to notice.
“I need a ride to Starcourt.” As if on cue, Dustin’s head pops around my bedroom door, demanding yet another ride.
“Your manners really could use some work kid.” I tell him, to which he shrugs and I find myself grabbing my keys with less reluctance than I had the previous day.
The drive to the mall passes by a lot faster than it had on the uncomfortable journey the day before. Filled with Dustin singing at the top of his lungs to whatever cheesy pop song was playing on the radio and me secretly hoping deep down that I’ll catch a glimpse, or even better a chance to talk to Steve again.
My former bully had somehow managed to penetrate my thoughts ever since we departed ways in the early hours of the morning. Consumed by the thoughts of where we go from here, was our emotional conversation reserved for that one night only or would we develop a casual friendship? As much as I was pretending like nothing had happened, I was itching to know how Steve was feeling.
Before I know it, I’m turning off the ignition and the boy in question is directly in my eyeline. Lazily smoking a cigarette against the side of the entrance to the mall. Presumably waiting for my little brother in order to escort him into Scoops Ahoy, so he is unable to cause any mischief on his way to the store.
Steve spots my truck almost instantly and I could be mistaken, but it certainly looks as though his eyes lock on mine straight away. I hardly register Dustin jumping out of the truck as Steve flicks the cigarette butt to the ground, strolling towards the truck and before I can stop myself I’m climbing out of my seat. Much to the surprise of my brother.
“Hi.” Steve mumbles nervously, a soft rose tint settling upon his cheeks.
“Hi.” I reply just as awkwardly, my face no doubt the same shade as his.
“Okay, this is weird. I’m just gonna-” Dustin uncomfortably points towards the main doors before hurrying off in that direction, eager to get away from whatever is happening between Steve and I.
“So about last night-”
“I want to forgive you.”
We both speak at the same time, sharing anxious smiles as neither of us dares to make the first move. Though after taking a deep breath, I find myself being the one to break the tension.
“I want to forgive you. I meant what I said, that I think you’re a good guy.” I state, timidly picking at my fingers as I try to look anywhere other than the dark haired boy. “I don’t think I’m fully there yet, I think I’ve still got some shit that I need to work through but I’d like to. You don’t deserve to be hated for the stuff you did as a kid, especially when I can see how hard you’re trying to be a better person.”
I’ve barely finished speaking when Steve’s arms are wrapped firmly around my shoulders, pulling me into a firm hug and for whatever strange reason, I hug him back. Cautiously sliding my arms around his toned waist and allowing my head to rest against his chest. Inhaling his scent deeply, an intense sandalwood with a hint of cigarette smoke and despite all of my logic within me screaming to snap out of it, I can’t resist his musk, finding myself strongly intoxicated by it.
“I swear you won’t regret it, I’m going to spend every day making it up to you for as long as I live.” Steve mutters into my hair, gently pulling away from me once he stops speaking.
“How about we start with a free ice cream and go from there?” I ask cheekily, causing him to beam cheerfully at me with a swift nod.
“I’m sure I can manage that.” He laughs, before we make our way into the mall, joining the group of kids inside Scoops Ahoy, much to Dustin’s disapproval at my presence.
Sliding into the booth besides Max, I’m acutely aware of the way the group huddles closer together, voices lowering to no louder than a whisper. Even Eddie Munson, who’s voice can usually be heard for miles, speaks in a hushed voice.
Narrowing my eyes, I try to pick up any of the conversation, only able to hear certain words here and there. Their side of the table is scattered with papers and I’m able to make out what looks like a map of Starcourt. Although I am completely baffled, if not slightly annoyed at their secrecy, I can only assume that this has something to do with one of their Dungeons and Dragons campaigns.
“You and Harrington made up then?” Robin inquires when I join her at the counter, resting my elbows against the cool marble.
“Kind of. I don’t know, we talked for hours last night and as much as I want to hate him, I just can’t.”
Robin can sense how difficult it is for me to acknowledge my willingness to believe her friend has changed. She knows that it’ll be a long road going forward, and yet she’s unable to hide her pride. Not only at her friend for accepting the suffering he caused, but also at my openness to trust that somehow Steve isn’t such a bad guy.
“Yeah I’ve heard, he hasn’t been able to talk about anything else other than the heart to heart you two shared last night. I’m really proud of him, he’s come a long way.” Robin explains, busying herself with preparing a milkshake that she smoothly slides my way with a knowing wink. “Consider that on me, you deserve it, I’m not sure I would’ve been able to make my childhood bullies confront their own actions the same way you did. It took real guts.”
“As much as I would like to take credit, I think the weed was probably more to thank.” I disclose, taking a short sip of the strawberry treat in front of me. “I have a tendency to get real honest when I’m high.”
“Don’t I know it sweetheart.” Eddie chortles, dipping his finger into the cream atop my milkshake and licking it off dramatically.
“Ew get your own!” I groan, pulling the glass away from the metalhead as he tries to swipe some more cream.
“Where’s Harrington anyway? Those little dickheads are going over our game plan and apparently he is a pivotal part in their plan and is needed right away.” The boy asks Robin, eyes scanning the room as if Steve is hiding in one of the red leather booths.
“He’s in the back, apparently he wanted to make Y/N’s ice cream extra special.” Robin speaks, nodding her head towards the staff only door.
“What’s he gonna do? Jizz on it?” The moment the words leave his mouth, Robin and I are both groaning, disgusted by the question.
“Do you have to be so repulsive all of the time?” I ask, hearing the squeak of a door followed by rapid footsteps.
“I didn’t hear any complaints when my mouth was between your legs!”
“That’s because you can’t speak whilst you're down there!”
So caught up in our current argument, I fail to spot Steve uneasily standing at the other side of the counter. A large scoop of cherry ice cream sits in a tub before him, decorated elegantly with a large helping of sprinkles, pieces of chocolate and a singular maraschino cherry placed neatly on top.
“Is this a bad time?” He questions hesitantly, carefully observing Eddie and I, a twinge of what I can only perceive as jealousy flashes across his face. However, it disappears before I analyze it any further.
“No, no. Not a bad time at all.” The words tumble out of my mouth with haste, Robin struggling to hide the amused expression on her face as she witnesses the tension between us.
“One scoop of cherry swirl, with all the toppings. On me, as promised.” He announces gleefully, pushing it towards me with a small plastic spoon, which I am more than happy to accept.
“Thank you.”
I delicately place the cherry between my lips, pulling it from the stem which I then twist between my fingers absentmindedly. Though, I feel the warmth rising to my cheeks as I catch sight of the three of them staring at me, eyes trained on my mouth.
“I don’t think I’ve ever met someone that can make eating fruit look so hot.” Eddie comments, pupils blown out causing me to grimace.
“Hey Steve! We need to go over the plan!” Lucas’ yell, alleviates the awkwardness of the current situation.
“Always the goddamn babysitter.” He mutters under his breath, offering me an apologetic glance before meandering over to the group of youths, Eddie Munson in tow.
“Now I don’t want to alarm you, especially not with how fresh your reconciliation with Steve is but I think he may have a teeny tiny crush on you.” Robin whispers, moving her head closer to mine in an effort to remain inconspicuous.
“What? No, no, he’s just being nice is all.” I shut down her theory quickly, fixating my gaze on the melting ice cream so as not to reveal the bashfulness slapped across my face. “Anyway, what’s that all about? New campaign? I didn’t think D&D would be the sort of things you and Steve would be into.”
“I see what you’re doing and I’m just going to go along with it.” Robin says, referencing the fact that I am so obviously trying to change the subject. She turns away from, as she continues to speak, occupying herself with refilling the toppings station. “It’s just a stupid thing they’re planning, some big quest. Steve and I just kind of got roped into it I guess, but it’s not so bad.”
Her response is vague and leaves me with more questions than I previously had, not entirely believing that her and Steve could possibly be lame enough to enjoy the fictional realms of Dungeons and Dragons. I let it slide though, thankful that she didn’t push me to discuss the possibility of Steve Harrington liking me and so I return the favor. Accepting that there is a very probable, most likely embarrassing reason that they’re not telling me about their secret activities.
***
Most young people would kill for the opportunity to have an empty house. It’s the time to throw wild parties or hook up with a guy without having to sneak around or risk being caught by nose parents. Or even worse, younger siblings. Had I been a normal eighteen year old girl, there was no doubt in my mind that I would be doing exactly that.
Instead, I’m lounging on my bed, recapping the events of the past couple of days to my diary as I try to fill the deafening sound of silence with the beautiful vocals of Stevie Nicks. I’d never truly realized just how eerie and isolating our home could be without the usual noise of my family. No football game broadcast on the television, or the clattering of pots in the kitchen, not even the sound of Dustin screaming down his walkie talkie. It fills me with a sense of unease that I can’t seem to shake.
Just as I’m about to try and fill the void by running the bathtub to take a relaxing soak, I become distracted by the high pitched shrill of the phone on my bedside table. Curiosity engulfing me and I wonder who could be calling me at such a late hour. Better yet, who has got the phone number that is usually only reserved for Eddie or my parents.
“Y/N, I don’t have much time so you have to listen to me carefully!” Steve’s voice is full of panic as he hurriedly speaks down the line, my body instantly going stiff at the urgency of his tone. “I’m so sorry and I should’ve told you sooner but Dustin was adamant that he wanted to keep you out of it.”
“Out of what? What’s going on? Is Dustin okay?”
“I can’t explain other the phone, you’d never believe me anyway, but we really need your help. Just get to the Starcourt as soon as you can, please. I wouldn’t ask if it weren’t important.” Steve spits out, the uproar of what sounds like wind almost drowning him out. “And bring a weapon!”
With that, the line cuts off. I remain still, nostrils flared as my hands continue to hold on to the phone, knuckles white. My heart feels like it is about to burst violently out of my chest and I struggle to gain my composure with such short, rapid breaths.
“Okay, it’s gonna be okay. I’m sure it’s nothing, they probably just need a ride again.” I mumble to myself, grabbing my keys and racing down the stairs. “Yeah, that makes total sense, I mean a girl should always carry a weapon when alone at night.”
Hands trembling furiously, I stand opposite my dad’s rifle cabinet, staring at the gun through the sheer glass. Questioning whether I’m truly about to take his property. I’ve only shot a gun once, I was twelve and my dad took me hunting. It didn’t become a regular thing, my dad refusing to take me again after I burst into tears upon shooting a deer.
Despite the fear racing through my body, before I can even think about what I’m doing, I’m grabbing a vase off one of the shelves. Using all of my strength to smash it straight into the glass, thousands of miniscule shards flying everywhere. Flinching as it hits me with force, ripping open small wounds across the exposed skin of my face, neck and arms. Though I only really register the injuries on my hand, the flesh of my knuckles shredded brutally from where my hand made contact with the pane. Vase doing little to take the extent of the collision.
A shaky exhale escapes my throat, grabbing the rifle despite my second thoughts. Sticky, crimson liquid dripping against the heel of the gun, staining the burnt mahogany.
“Sorry dad.” I speak quietly, frowning slightly upon seeing the mess of broken glass across the lounge.
In my hurry to leave, I don’t even bother to lock the doors of our house. Focusing on nothing other than getting to Starcourt as quickly as I physically can. Throwing the gun carelessly on my passenger seat, I’m in autopilot as I start the engine. My driving being much more reckless than usual, ignoring speed limits and stop signs in my race to get to the mall.
The closer I get, the more I start to question what type of danger I am just about to get myself into. Sky above the large building an array of violet and sapphire amidst the dark black of the night. Wind whirling harshly around my truck, the closer I get. It feels reminiscent of a tornado, a ruthless storm that holds no mercy.
Arriving in the parking lot, I’m able to see a singular car parked by the entry doors. Nancy, Jonathan, Will and Lucas scurry around the vehicle, clearly in search of something and don’t seem to care at all about the volatile weather that Hawkins is experiencing.
“Hey, what’s going on? Where’s Dustin?” I shout, rifle in hand as I sprint towards the burgundy car. The group ignoring my arrival and instead climbing into the vehicle’s interior.
Squeezing myself in besides Will and Lucas, it’s only at that moment that they acknowledge me. Faces ranging from confusion, to shock, to anger. Not a single one of them displays any positive emotion at my being there.
“What are you doing here?” Jonathan asks, voice raised and tone harsh, wounding me more so than I thought possible.
“Where the fuck is Dustin?” I spit, solely caring about ensuring the safety of my baby brother. Knowing that if anything happened to him I would never forgive myself. “Where the fuck is my brother?”
‘I don’t know, okay Y/N. He’s with Erica!” Nancy yells, preoccupied with pulling open the glove compartment and rooting around urgently.
“Erica? Erica as in your ten year old sister?” I snap, attention diverted towards Lucas who stares at me with worry, afraid of how I am about to react. “What the actual fuck?”
“Look I don’t know if you’ve noticed but we’re kind of in the middle of something and you really shouldn’t be here.” Nancy tells me, finally turning herself to look at me from the passenger seat.
I’ve never seen her look so troubled, face free of makeup and stress lines prominent. She’s too young to look as agonized as she does, asserting to me that whatever is currently taking place is far beyond what I could have ever imagined. Far more threatening than anything I could dream up.
“I think I’ve got it.” Jonathan announces, a chorus of relieved sighs escaping the group.
“Get it started then.” Nancy pushes, watching anxiously as Jonathan begins to fiddle with the car wires, hands clammy from the stress of the current circumstances.
“Guys, we could have a problem.” Will mutters, eyes trained out of the window to the otherside of the parking lot.
A car sits ominously, headlights pointing directly towards us. Nancy and Jonathan both curse under their breath, and despite having no knowledge about what is taking place, even I can understand that this is clearly not a good sign. Even worse when the vehicle begins to drive slowly straight at us.
Unaware of my own actions and unable to stop myself, I’m rounding the car confidently. Standing right in the path of the oncoming vehicle, I raise the rifle, releasing the safety and pointing directly towards what I can assume is the driver’s seat. Struggling to see effectively against the bright beam of the headlights.
My move seems to threaten the driver, the car gaining speed and barrelling at us with no sign of stopping. Despite the fear that has overcome me since receiving Steve’s call, whilst standing in the path of immediate peril, I feel weirdly at ease. Unbothered by the potential risk of death that I am face to face with.
“What are you doing?” I hear Nancy scream, her voice sounds as though it is miles away when I know in reality she is almost right behind me, tucked away inside the automobile.
Steadying my breath, I squint my eyes in an attempt to better my aim, before releasing the trigger. Having no time to think about the consequences of my actions nor the moral implications of shooting at a living being that formerly plagued my mind, releasing bullet after bullet as the driver steps on the gas. Accelerating at such an extreme pace that I can only fire so much before having to accept my twisted fate.
With the car only mere feet away, I drop the gun, fearing that no matter how well I shoot, there is no winning this fight. Grabbing my head, in a weak attempt to protect myself, I drop to the ground, eyes closed tightly as I prepare to face the impact.
I’ve never been a religious person, but the only thoughts flying around my brain are prayers of protecting my family. Prayers of Dustin’s safety as he faces whatever is coming for him. Prayers that my passing is swift and painless. Prayers that this is all over quickly.
And yet, nothing comes.
Warily, I open my eyes, removing my hands from my cautiously, only to see none other than Steve Harrington, reeling from the impact of smashing his car straight into the one headed my way. His eyes find mine and my heart stops, the look of sheer relief on his face is indescribable.
Rising to my feet, Steve’s hurriedly climbing out of the vehicle and by my side in a second. Face bloodied and bruised, despite that, he’s solely focused on me, scanning over me intently, worriedly taking in all the minor wounds I obtained from shattering the rifle cabinet.
“What happened to your hand?” He’s asking breathlessly, my mind preoccupied with the knowledge that he just put himself in harm's way to save my life.
I can’t find the words to say anything as I take in the sight of his swollen eye and the stains of dried blood coating the lower half of his face. My mouth opens to speak and no words seem to slip out, mesmerized by Steve’s beauty in spite of his unsightly injuries.
Blaming the adrenaline, I find myself throwing my arms around the boy’s neck, pulling him into me and squeezing tightly. His hands settle on my hips, touch firm, fearing that if he were to let go that I would simply disappear. Absentmindedly, my fingers delicately thread through the strands of dark hair at the nape of his neck. Needing to be close to him.
“You just saved my life.”
My voice is no louder than a whisper, breath hot against his neck as I nuzzle myself closer to him. Feeling safe and secure in his embrace. Desperately needing the comfort right now, even if it is coming from the most unexpected of places.
“Uh guys! We should be getting out of here! Like now!” I hear Robin shout, releasing myself from Steve’s hold to see that not only has Jonathan managed to get their car started but also that Billy Hargrove is now stumbling out of his vehicle and has his sights set on us once again.
Neither of us need to say a word, abandoning my truck in the Starcourt parking lot and speeding away from the mall and ultimately the danger that lies in wait there.
***
The Battle of Starcourt resulted in the mall burning to the ground. Dustin and I reunited later that night at Steve’s house, the pair of them, alongside Robin, explained everything to me over a much needed pot of tea. El’s powers, demogorgons, Russian soldiers and the Mind Flayer. It was certainly a lot to take in and I could only apologize to my brother for not being there for him throughout all of this taking place. Wishing I could have helped him from the start.
It’s been a struggle adjusting to my daily life for the past couple of days. Dustin’s been staying at the Byers’ household, wanting the comfort of his friends and with a lack of parental presence in our home, the place feels cold. I can understand his decision completely, yet I can’t help but feel alone in such a big house.
I spend my nights awake, unable to sleep, and when I do manage to drift off, I’m plagued by nightmares of that car barreling towards me. My days aren’t any better. Alone with my thoughts at the roller rink, dreaming up all of the ways that the events of the night could have gone differently, most resulting in the deaths of either Dustin and I. And if I’m not at work, I lounge around my home, hopelessly trying to occupy my mind from the swirling images of Starcourt.
Steve and I haven't spoke since that night, more so my fault than his. I’d closed myself off again, become a recluse and struggled to leave the house with the exception of work. I believed that my mind had been playing tricks on me that night when I found myself enamored by his beauty. Or that it was simply the adrenaline and the intensity of the circumstances that I needed his embrace. However, the more I think about it, the more I believe that it was a decision of the heart rather than caused by the stress of the night.
Standing outside the Harrington household, I wonder if I am making a huge mistake. I hadn’t intended to come here, only leaving my house to take a brisk walk and yet here I find myself, fist raised in preparation to knock. Though making no effort to do so. In all honesty, I think I just need to talk to somebody about what transpired and Steve is the only person that I can willingly open up to.
“Y/N?” The boy’s voice startles me, he’s standing in the doorway dressed in plaid pajama pants and a loose black sweater. The wounds on his face are still prominent, though evidently more healed than the last time I had seen him.
“I’m sorry, I was going for a walk but I guess I just instinctively came here. My house is too quiet and I just really need to talk to somebody.” I confess, staring down at my bandaged hand so as to not make eye contact with Steve.
“You walked here?” He’s shocked by my admission, not that I’m surprised. Living on the other side of town, the walk to his house is easily an hour long, if not more.
“Well my truck kind of went down with the mall.” I laugh softly, though it sounds more forced than I intended.
“You should’ve called, I would’ve picked you up.” He tells me, voice gentle as he opens the door for me to enter his home, following me through to the lounge where we collapse onto the couch.
He has a small fire crackling away, the orange embers lighting up the room and subsequently offering a toastiness in comparison to the chilly night air.
“What’s going on? Are you?” There’s a tenderness to his voice, speaking to me the way you would speak to a timid animal so as not to frighten them. It’s sweet.
“Do you get nightmares from that night?” I ask shyly, not wanting him to view me as weak for struggling with the things that occurred.
Steve sighs, settling further into the couch as he takes his time figuring out how to say what he wants to get across. Part of him wanting to lie and pretend that everything is fine, the other part of him knowing that he should just be honest and recognize his feelings.
“Yeah.” Steve settles on the one word reply, deciding it may be the better option rather than confessing the truth as to what occurs in these nightmares.
“I haven’t been sleeping much, everytime I do, all I see is that car. Or Dustin’s lifeless body and it’s horrible. Waking up alone, hyperventilating, nobody there to tell me it’ll be okay. I don’t know how I can keep going like this.” I admit, daring to look at the boy and noticing the pained expression on his face.
“Can I be honest?” He whispers, words so quiet I almost don’t hear them. Nodding nervously, his eyes fall to his lap as he speaks. “Everytime I shut my eyes, I can only think about what would’ve happened had I not got to you in time.”
“But you did-”
“You would’ve died, you would’ve died and it would’ve been my fault because I was the one who asked you to come.” He’s crying as he talks, recounting that night and what could have been.
“Steve, you did save me. You’re the entire reason that I’m sitting here right here now. You’re a hero Steve Harrington.” I tell him, shuffling closer and taking his hands in mine. To which he brushes his fingers over my bandaged knuckles. “A very stupid, idiotic, reckless hero. But a hero nonetheless.”
“I would’ve never forgiven myself if I’d let you die. Fuck, I can’t even forgive myself for the way I treated you in school.” He states, gazing over my face and taking in the handful of miniscule cuts scattered across my cheeks from the shattering of the cabinet.
“Would it help if I told you that I forgive you?” I ask, soft smile settled upon my lips.
“Are you sure? I know I hurt you and I don’t want you to feel like you have to forgive me because of what happened and-”
“Steve, I forgive you.” I cut him off, squeezing his hands as I do so. “Not just because of what happened. I mean I’d probably be a shitty person if I didn’t forgive you when you deliberately put your own life at risk to save mine but, you’re a good person. I can see that now. You’re a really good person with a really good heart and in all honesty I think-”
My heart jumps to my throat as I realize what I’m about to confess. Questioning how I even got myself into this mess. If you told sixteen year old me that only two years later I would be sitting on the couch of my nemesis about to own up to the feelings that I may or may not have for him, she would’ve laughed in your face.
“Can I kiss you?” Steve asks softly, before I am able to finish what I’m saying, thankful that I no longer have to find the words.
“I’d really like that.”
The boy’s hand is gentle as he cups my cheek, apprehensively bringing his face to my own and brushing his lips lightly over mine. He’s cautious at first, testing out the waters to ensure that I am truly comfortable. Though, when I push myself closer, fisting his sweater in my hands, he exerts the passion that he had been holding black. Lips moving in sync with mine and bringing his free hand to caress my waist delicately. As the heat grows and any nerves wash away, he effortlessly slides his tongue into my mouth. Shy whimper escaping my mouth as he does so.
When he pulls away, I don’t miss the string of saliva that connects our lips to one another and can’t help but smile. Heart fluttering as Steve’s eyes focus on me adoringly.
“I guess all the rumors were right.” I tease as he tucks a loose strand of hair behind my ear, tilting his head slightly at my words. “You really are good at that, King Steve.”
“Oh ha ha.” He replies sarcastically, pulling me into his side and allowing me to rest my head on his chest. Listening intently to the steady beat of his heart.
“Can I stay here tonight? I can’t face another night alone.” I ask, tracing circles across his stomach, his hands stroking my hair lightly.
“I’d like that.”
Whilst I lay in the arms of Steve Harrington, I couldn’t help but feel as though things were starting to look up for me. Sure, it didn’t happen in the way that I was expecting or perhaps wanted. I certainly could have done without the monsters but right now, I finally felt at peace. Even if it was only for a little bit.
A Twisted Romantic Fairytale (Wally Clark x Reader
Word Count: 3K
A tragic tale of two star-crossed lovers.
Warnings: Death
The homecoming game of 1983 was a tragic tale of two star crossed lovers perishing beside one another. It’s a story for the history books and one Split River High would remember in the years going forward. One that students remember as a devastating if not twisted romantic fairytale. Two young lovers bound together for eternity.
Homecoming Game - 1983.
Excitement runs rampant through the air as everybody floods into the stadium, eager chattering of students combined with the cheerful melodies of the marching band fill me with joy. It’s not as if I haven’t been here before, I’m no stranger to the blinding lights of Split River football stadium. In fact I’ve been cheering on the sidelines at every football game for the past four years or so, but tonight is different. I’m unsure of whether the electricity I can feel within the air has always been there and I have simply never noticed, or if it has something to do with the fact that this is my last homecoming game of my high school career. It’s the one night that counts. After all, it’s hard to miss the countless recruiters already situated within the stands.
“There you are! God, I’ve been looking all over for you!”
Upon hearing the familiar voice, I can’t help but smile. Turning my attention away from the water fountain where I had previously been filling my water bottle, to see the dark haired jock that makes my heart race.
Wally Clark. Where do I even begin to describe this boy?
I first met Wally on the second day of senior year. My family had just moved to Split River from Amber, Nevada, following my father’s transfer within the police department. Having accepted a promotion, despite the fact it meant we had to uproot our entire lives and move almost two thousand miles away.
It’s fair to say that I had been a complete mess, struggling to find my feet in a town that was the complete opposite to everything I had been used to. Not to mention the constant arguing between my parents caused by the stress of the move. Feeling so overwhelmed by my entire life changing so quickly, I couldn’t bring myself to attend first period and instead found myself tucked away in the bleachers, smoking a cigarette with shaky hands.
It was at that moment that Wally had found me, with a warm smile on his face, he comforted me. Welcomed me to the strange new town of Split River. Offered to sit with me in the cafeteria at lunch despite being a total stranger. However, something about the way things took place felt incredibly natural. As though this was the way things were meant to be.
Wally and I became inseparable from that moment forward, he encouraged me to join the cheerleading team. Insisting that it was only because he knew it was a passion of mine and not because it meant I would be forced to go to the football games that he just so happened to play. And how could I say no to that charming grin?
Throughout the years, we both learnt a lot about one another. He listened and supported me as I discussed my turbulent homelife, detailing how my parents seemed to be getting closer and closer to divorce by the day and how in turn I became practically invisible to them. I was there for him following every argument he had with his mother, reminding him that his sole purpose in life was not just football. Ensuring he knew that he had other talents and qualities that were just as good if not better than his football skills.
We weren’t best friends, we were each other’s rock through thick and thin. So when he kissed me on the field, following yet another win for the team, I felt like I was floating on air. Unearthing all of the feelings I harbored for the jock, even if I had spent all that time trying to bury them.
Wally’s heart is so pure and full of love. Being on the receiving end of that love to the fullest extent is the greatest joy I will ever be able to experience. To have someone be such a bright light in your life is truly a blessing.
So if I had to describe Wally Clark? I’d say he was an angel brought down from heaven just for me.
“Excited for the big game my love?” Wally asks as he finally reaches me, wrapping an arm around my shoulder and placing a soft kiss on my temple.
“More nervous than excited. Kristine’s had us practicing a new move and with all the recruiters, I’m just scared I’m going to let the nerves get to me and mess up.” I admit, reaching my own hand up to hold his that remains over my shoulder as we begin to stroll through the crowds towards the locker rooms.
“You’re a superstar!” Wally exclaims, to which I’m unable to contain my laughter. “I mean it! You’re gonna smash it, honestly. I’ve never seen someone make cheerleading look as mesmerizing as you do. It’s borderline hypnotic, I’m telling you.”
“Sure, yeah, whatever you say.” I reply, tone sarcastic, yet his words of encouragement do make me feel ten times better. “Anyway, what about my favorite player? Are you feeling okay?”
I don’t miss the pained look that flashes briefly crosses his face before returning to his usual winning beam. I’m sure he’s just ready to get the game over with, wanting to return to some sense of normality and let loose at the dance. No longer having to deal with the overwhelming amount of pressure that his mom places on him to be the best.
“I guess I’m a little worried. My knee has been playing up for the past few days and coach said I needed to rest it, which is what I’ve been trying to do. I don’t know, I just don’t want to let anyone down, especially not my mom. Or you.”
As Wally finishes speaking we reach the doors of the locker room and I remove myself from his embrace to stand in front of him. Taking his hands gently in mine as I gaze up at the sweet boy. Noticing the slight gleam of worry and shame hidden deep within his coffee brown eyes.
“Whatever happens out there, you won’t be letting anyone down, I promise.” My voice is soft as I speak to him, wanting him to truly understand how little his performance matters. “Your mom may be disappointed but she’ll get over it. As long as you’re happy, healthy and alive, that’s the most important thing. Just don’t push yourself too hard, I know how important it is to you that you make your mom proud but she’ll be proud of you no matter what. I mean, how could she not be? You’re amazing Wally Clark.”
The footballer smiles, wrapping his arms around me before pulling me into his body tightly. Resting my head against his chest, I close my eyes for a moment, allowing myself to relax in his embrace and breathing in deeply to take in the deep oaky scent that is Wally. He rests his head atop of mine and I can feel him squeeze me gently, hands scrunching up the fabric of my t-shirt as he does so.
“Wally Clark, better get yourself in that locker room right now! It’s almost showtime!” I hear the coach yell and my boyfriend sighs, slowly releasing me from his tight hold.
“Now go show everybody just how amazing you are.” I whisper, lovingly gazing up at him.
He nods as though in confirmation with my previous statement, before taking my face in his hands and slowly leaning down to interlock his lips with mine. Delicately and with the remaining hint of nerves racing through his body, his lips move gently with mine. My cheeks feel burning hot compared to the brisk coldness of his hands, caused by the icy fall winds, though I don’t seem to mind. Embracing the sweetness of Wally’s mouth and the tenderness of every move he makes.
It’s with much reluctance that we pull away from one another, however, after catching a glimpse of the coach’s disapproving look, I know the moment is over. Sending the jock to get himself ready with a swift peck to the cheek, him offering me a cheeky wink in return as we both slink off to our respective locker rooms.
The next time I see Wally is when the team makes their grand entrance onto the field. A big cheesy grin rests on my face as I hear the crowds' screams of support, waving flags and homemade banners to cheer on the team. With a few cheers of my own, a couple of the girls and I begin to hype up the crowd even more, jumping wildly and encouraging their yells.
As I shoot a quick glance over to the field, I’m able to spot my boyfriend easily, even with his helmet on. Smiling brightly at me even as he runs towards his team to discuss their play. My heart flutters knowing that he still makes an effort to look for me even as the game is about to begin.
“Alright girls, you know what to do!” Kristina shouts, alerting us to take up our positions and prepare for the first routine of the night.
Noticing the game is about to commence, I feel myself worrying less about messing up the performance, focusing solely on Wally and his uplifting words from moments earlier. Sharing gleeful smiles with my fellow cheerleaders, I can’t help but feel a sense of excitement as the music roars through the stadium.
The next few minutes pass by in a blur, with the Split River football team taking an early victory and our routine flowing perfectly without a single fault or mistake. It’s almost too good to be true.
With our final move only seconds away, I feel the nerves return once more as I boost myself into the hands of the other girls. Their hands wrapped around my ankles and calves to ensure my safety and support whilst in the air. It’s only when I’m hoisted into the air that my stomach twists. Something doesn’t feel right but I’m unable to do anything. Everything happens in slow motion and as I catch sight of the ground looming towards me, I’m hit instantly by the fact that I’m not going to make my mark. I’m not going to land firmly in the hands of the girls beneath me.
I suppose the one good thing about all of this is that I only have a split second to panic before my body plummets to the hard asphalt below my feet. The thump my body makes as it slams against the ground is enough to make anybody squeal.
Wally’s the first to notice the chaos unfolding at the side of the field. Distracted by whatever seems to be taking place, he doesn’t notice the opposing team's player bolting towards him. He lands with a grunt, knee buckling and sending a sharp shooting pain through the length of his leg.
As he rises to his feet, he hears the whistle blowing repeatedly, noticing the chaos begin to grow larger. With furrowed brows he finds himself jogging towards the crowd, even if it does cause him a significant amount of pain that he tries desperately to hide.
Pushing through the screaming group of footballers and cheerleaders, it’s at that moment that he sees her. Lay unmoving against the concrete, his heart stops momentarily. Feeling sick to his stomach at the sight of his beautiful girl lifeless, body contorted in ways he didn’t know physically possible.
Wally drops to his knees, students stepping away from him as he does so. Not knowing how to comfort the poor boy in this time of need. The physical pain he is feeling in his leg is nothing compared to the emotional turmoil he is going through right now. Dragging her body on to his knees and cradling her delicately, in fear of breaking her anymore.
With clouded vision, he stares down at his love, body releasing wails and sobs he had never once made in his life. Blood stains his hands, his jersey, his trousers and yet he doesn’t care. Overwhelmed by his grief, watching the color drain from her skin. He doesn’t think anything could be more painful, nothing in his life could compare to the trauma of his girlfriend sprawled out in his arms.
Wally struggles with the ambulance crew as they begin to remove her body, his coach restraining him as they place her in the back of an ambulance. The jock barely acknowledges his coach telling him that he’s been benched as he watches with heartbreak as the ambulance drives away and in his distress all he can do is cry on the sidelines.
With his mom standing behind him, badgering him about winning a scholarship and needing him in the game, Wally feels nothing but rage. All his life, he’d done right by his mom, wanting her to be proud of him, wanting her to acknowledge his successes but right now, he wanted nothing more than to tell her to close her mouth.
Instead, he finds himself marching over to the coach, begging to be put back into the game, arguing that he needs something to take his mind off what he just witnessed and that he is in fact in the correct headspace to win. And somehow, his efforts pay off much to his surprise. Back in the game, Wally has more strength than ever. Fuelled by his rage and his grief.
Whilst he finds it distasteful and disrespectful that the game continues despite his sweet girl losing her life only moments before, he plays with the knowledge that she’d want him to win. She would want him to succeed and so he tries. He tries for her because if not for her, then he has no other reason to keep going. She was the one good thing in his life that kept him from going off the deep and without her, he doesn’t know how he will continue. So for now, he simply focuses on the game.
The sharp pain in his knee grows stronger and with every passing minute he struggles more and more. Trying desperately to ignore it, he claims the ball, running at full speed towards the touchline and yet as he runs directly towards an opposing player, he makes no effort to slow down. Not thinking about the potential consequences of his actions.
He hits the ground with a devastating blow. World shrouded in darkness almost immediately. However, he feels more at peace than he ever has.
I watch with bated breath as Wally tumbles aggressively to the floor, the crack ripples throughout the stadium and I can’t help but gasp. Throwing my hands across my mouth as I fixate on the footballers rushing to his aid. My mind races at one million thoughts per minute, why did he go back out onto the field? Why didn’t he move out of the way? How could he be so reckless?
I’m so wrapped up in my own thoughts that I almost miss the tall jock standing watching over his own body as people hopelessly attempt to resuscitate his cold body. Before I can even react, I’m slowly walking towards him, even with his back towards me I can tell he’s in pain. Hands in his hair, tugging slightly as he comes to the realization of what has happened.
My hands are shaking the closer I get, breath caught in my throat as I swallow the lump in my throat. I’m not entirely sure why I’m scared, perhaps simply afraid of what this means for us now?
“Wally.” My voice is small, timid. Hands clasped together over my chest as I anxiously await his reaction.
As though he doesn’t believe it, Wally’s body goes stiff. When he finally faces me, his mouth falls open in shock, eyes holding the same softness that they did in life and I smile hesitantly. He’s the first to break the tension, scooping me up in his arms and holding me tighter than he ever has before.
“I’m sorry Wally, I’m so sorry, I promise I didn’t mean for this to happen.” My voice breaks as I speak, tears staining my cheeks. “I should’ve tried harder and then this would never have happened. You’d still be alive. I’m so sorry.”
“Hey, hey, it’s okay. Darling it’s okay. We’re together now, yeah?” Wally states, placing his arms on my shoulders as he fully takes me in, holding me at arm’s length as if he’s checking I’m okay. Not that it really matters now.
“What were you thinking? Going back out was so stupid and irresponsible and reck-”
“I didn’t want to let you down.” Wally whispers, eyes falling to his feet in shame. “I wanted to make it all worth it, I wanted you to be proud of me because I knew you’d be looking down on me.”
“Wally, I-”
“I don’t think I could live without you sweetheart. I don’t think I’d want to.” He admits, bringing one hand to my face, thumb stroking my cheek softly. “Seeing you there, all limp and lifeless, I didn’t just lose you. I lost something within myself too.”
“I’m so sorry.” I sob, allowing myself to release all the emotions built up inside of me.
“I still thought you were the most beautiful girl in the world.” Wally confesses, smiling adoringly at me. “I still do.”
A quiet giggle escapes my mouth, pulling the tall boy towards me and pressing my lips roughly to his. Wanting, no, needing to feel him against me. To feel the way his mouth dances with mine and the way his hands tenderly caress my waist. I just need him.
“So where do we go from here?” The jock questions, our foreheads restings against one another as we catch our breath
“I don’t know, but as long as you’re with me, I don’t really care.”
Hopes And Fears - Part Five. (Wally Clark x Reader)
Wordcount: 2.9K
Y/N's death is traumatic. So traumatic in fact, she can't even look at Wally without reliving what happened to her.
Warning: Mature Language, Sexual Assault, Murder
A/N: Part five is finally here and guess what? Without spoiling anything, things are ramping up a notch. This part is pretty much just pure fluff so I hope you enjoy.
Previous Parts: One. Two. Three. Four.
“I was murdered.”
Nerves course through my body as I feel the stares of each ghost piercing into me. Daring to note their expressions, I notice that not one of them appears to be judging me. Mr Martin’s expression appears curious, Wally a combination of shock and sympathy, Charlie proud, even Rhonda offers me a comforting smile.
“I’m still not ready to talk about it but now you know.”
“Thank you for sharing that with the group Y/N. Do you feel better, like a weight has been lifted from you now that you’ve started the process to move on?” Mr Martin asks, leaning forward with his elbows resting on his knees, encouraging me to open up more to the group of ghosts.
“Not really.” I state, allowing myself to sigh and slump further back into the chair. “I feel the same. You bang on about how opening up will make me feel better and allow me to move on every single session but I don’t feel like I’m moving on.”
“Well it’s like Mr Martin says, moving on and processing our deaths take time. You’ve been dead what three weeks. We’ve all had years to process these things, trust us, you will feel lighter eventually.” Charlie adds, attempting to make me feel better.
“I mean yeah, you may feel upset or angry now and that’s valid but it’ll get easier. Hell, I was killed sixty odd years ago and I’m still pissed about it.” Rhonda states, pulling yet another lollipop from the pocket of her trousers.
“I’m not upset anymore.” I push back with a subtle roll of my eyes. “And I’m not angry. I’m fucking enraged. Three weeks and not a single arrest, how hard is it to obtain a shred of evidence and send the monsters that did this to me to jail?”
“So there were multiple perpetrators?” Mr Martin questions.
“I see what you’re doing but I’ve already told you that I’m not ready to tell the story yet.”
“It was worth a shot.” Mr Martin smiles, turning his attention to the rest of the group. “Does anybody have any supportive words for Y/N? Any advice they wanna give?”
“I know it’s probably not what you wanna hear right now but it’s nice to have another murder victim around. You get it.” Rhonda shares, a comforting gleam in her eyes. “And for what it’s worth, I’m really sorry for the way I treated you before cherry pop. It wasn’t cool of me.”
I can’t help but smile at her words. “Thanks Rhonda, I’m sorry for yelling at you, I’ve realized I need to learn how to control my emotions better.”
“Aww, are you two about to become best friends?” Charlie teases, a cheesy grin plastered across his face.
“Shut up Charlie.”
“Shut up Charlie.”
Rhonda and I both state at the same time, we share a knowing look, both attempting to suppress our smiles at the humor of the situation.
“You know we’re all here for you, take as much time as you need.” Wally finally speaks, catching my eye as the words slip out of his mouth. “And I’m sorry that happened to you.”
As Mr Martin wraps up the session, I find my eyes continuously wandering over to Wally. Who coincidentally happens to always be looking in my direction. The butterflies returning to my stomach once again which nowadays seems to be a regular occurrence, no matter how hard I try to quash it.
As everybody begins to filter out of the gym, Charlie and I find ourselves being the last to leave. Which results in us having to stack the chairs and put them away.
“So, how are things?” Charlie asks, an eager tone to his voice which suggests to me that he is looking for a specific answer to the question. Though I’m not entirely sure what that answer is.
“Other than the obvious troubles that I have weighing on my mind, things have been pretty good recently.” I tell the boy, smiling as I think back on all the time that Wally and I have spent together.
“Oh come on Y/N. I know something is going on between you and that loveable jock of ours, so spill.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” I spit out quickly, turning my back to Charlie as I add another chair to the stack in front of me, hoping he doesn’t see the blush rising on my cheeks.
“I’m not stupid, I see the way you two look at each other.” Charlie tells me, leaning himself against my stack of chairs so I have no option but to face him. “That boy is like a lovestruck little puppy every time you’re around, it’s adorable if not mildly sickening.”
“I-”
“All I’m saying is, coming from someone who lost their chance of love, don’t miss out because of whatever’s holding you back. Most of us don’t get a second chance like this.”
His words strike me right in the chest, realizing that he could in fact be right. “Wow Charlie, that’s actually incredibly wise.”
“Well I’m not just a pretty face.” He jokes to which I slap him lightly on the arm despite laughing along with him.
Charlie’s words stick with me for the rest of the day, jumping about in my mind with no indication of leaving anytime soon. Even as I hang out with Wally in one of the empty dance studios, I find myself distracted by the thoughts racing around my head.
“Are you sure you’re okay, you seem like something’s bothering you.” Wally shouts through to me, as I rummage around the locker room.
“Yeah, fine. Never been better, I just can’t seem to find-” My words trail off as I find exactly what I was looking for.
Pulling the black sports bag from the bottom of the pile, I smile triumphantly, tugging open the zipper to find all my dance clothes. It’s not exactly my dream to be wearing workout clothes for all of eternity but I’d rather that than the tiny cheerleader uniform that I have been stuck in up until now.
“You okay in there?”
I remain silent as I tug off my Split River uniform, pulling on a black sports playsuit with a little white cardigan and calf length white socks.
“Y/N, you okay?” Wally asks again as I tug my sneakers back on to my feet.
After quickly checking myself over in the mirror to double check that I look somewhat presentable, I dramatically pull open the curtain, posing in front of it as I show Wally my change of clothes. Doing my best to put on a mini fashion show despite the outfit not exactly being the most fashionable.
As I walk towards the dark haired boy, I notice the way he sits up straight as I get closer to him, no longer slumped against the wall. The corners of his mouth are tugged upwards as I jokingly strut towards him, to which he claps enthusiastically.
“God, I feel ten times better now that I’m out of that stupid cheer uniform.” I admit, dropping myself down in front of Wally, crossing my legs beneath me.
“You liked cheerleading though, didn't you?”
“Yeah of course, doesn’t mean I had to like the uniforms though.” I confess with a shrug. “Besides, I felt kind of icky wearing the clothes I died in.”
“Well, at least now you’re dressed for an impromptu workout at any time.” Wally chuckles.
Although I smile along with him, I still can’t help thinking about what Charlie said to me. Gazing at him now, I’ve never felt more sure that I liked the footballer sat across from me, and yet I still can’t find the bravery within me to make a move. Not daring to cross a line nor wanting to ruin the budding friendship that we have managed to cultivate.
“Hey, how do you express your emotions?” I ask, desperately wanting to distract myself from overthinking my feelings towards the jock.
“What do you mean?” Wally asks curiously, eyebrows furrowed as he tries to understand the question.
“Like, when you’re so pent up with emotions, whether it’s anger or sadness or grief, how do you release that?”
“I used to play football when I was alive, it was the only thing I really knew how to do, or that I was good at. It gets a lot of rage out though. We have field day now, it’s where we just smash and break stuff on the field but that’s a rare occurrence to be honest. When Mr Martin thinks we deserve it.” Wally explains, though when he notices the slight confusion on my face he continues. “I’d imagine those don’t really help you though right? Got a lot of feelings you wanna let out?”
“Whenever I felt too much before, I’d dance, it let me blow off some steam and tired me out enough to not feel as overwhelmed.” I tell him, reminiscing on my previous life. “I don’t know if that would help me now though, plus I always liked to have a partner or at least someone to join me so I wasn’t so alone.”
We remain in silence for a few moments, the two of us contemplating ways to allow me to blow off all the rage that I have residing within me. I place my head in my palm as I struggle to come to a satisfactory option.
“Rhonda swears by sex.” Wally blurts out, my head snapping up at his words and his expression swiftly changes to one of embarrassment as he realizes what he just said. “Not that I’m suggesting we have sex. I mean I wouldn’t be opposed to it but I’m sure that’s not the only option. I just thought, well if Rhonda swears by it then it must be a good option right but I don’t know, it was a stupid suggestion, I-”
“Wally, have you and Rhonda?” I daren’t bring myself to finish the question, partially because I’m afraid of the answer but partially because I don’t trust myself to not confess my feelings for him, especially after learning he wouldn’t be opposed to having sex with me. I mean sure, I know he was rambling and it wasn’t exactly an admission of his feelings towards me however it does have my insides feeling all gooey.
“No! No, god, no.” He exclaims, putting emphasis on the words to ensure that I’m understanding correctly. “I love her, don’t get me wrong but she’s like a sister to me. I’m maybe ninety percent sure that she sleeps with one of the goth kids that died in the 90s when there was that gas leak in the science lab.”
I nod my head slowly, unsure of how to carry on the conversation from here as it has taken a somewhat awkward turn. Avoiding eye contact with Wally, I focus instead on picking the skin around my fingernails, nervously biting the inside of my cheek at the same time.
“What if I danced with you?” Wally suggests, causing me to look at him with raised brows, surprised that he would offer. “I suppose it’d be more like you teaching me, but I promise to try my best.”
“Really?”
“Sure, how hard can it be?”
With a beaming smile on my face, I instantly jump to my feet, running over to the stereo to press play. Wally follows me to the center of the room, watching as I wildly jump around to the sound of the Now That’s What I Call Music cd. He lets out a boyish laugh at my antics and I begin to feel the stress falling off my shoulders almost immediately.
“So what do you wanna start with?” I ask, taking in his hands in mine and forcing him to twist his body side to side, which he does so awkwardly.
“I don’t know. You’re supposed to be the teacher.” Wally replies sarcastically, causing me to drop his hands in feigned annoyance.
“You know what, just for that little comment, we’ll start with a classic pirouette.”
Before Wally even has time to argue, I elegantly twist, spinning delicately in a string of turns, to the jock’s surprise. Coming to a stop, I can’t hide the grin on my face at the fact his jaw is practically on the floor.
“There’s no way I can do that.” He argues, attempting to worm his way out of the task.
“You’ll never know until you try.” I tease, watching as he rolls his eyes before offering me a very obviously fake smile.
I’m unable to contain my laughter as I watch his very pathetic attempt, to which he simply spins in a very ungraceful circle before stumbling awkwardly. Managing to catch himself before hitting the floor, much to my amusement.
“I’m too awkward for this. Football is more my thing.” Wally complains, unimpressed by the hilarity I find at him failing.
“You know, nowadays a lot of footballers actually take ballet to improve their game.” I tell him, though I can tell he doesn’t believe me. “Okay, I’ll go easy on you now.”
Despite being no good at dancing whatsoever, Wally tries his very best with every move. Stumbling around the room like a newborn deer, following along with every instruction I give and imitating every different move I show him.
I must admit, it is incredibly cute that he is doing this for me. Wally has zero skills needed to be a dancer. Ungraceful, heavy footed, awkward. Yet he keeps going in order to allow me to blow off the steam that I need to and I don’t think I’ve ever been more attracted to him.
“Okay, there is one thing I want to try before we finish.” The footballer admits, a cheeky smile settled upon his face. “We have to do the Dirty Dancing move.”
“Oh do we now?” I laugh, finding it highly entertaining that he wants to try a move from a cringey 80s film.
“What? Dirty Dancing is a classic, we watch it pretty much every film night and everybody that has seen that movie wants to try that move at least once.” He confesses, trying to explain his reasoning as a way to avoid any embarrassment.
“Sure okay, just promise not to drop me.”
“I’d be a fool to drop you.”
I shake my head at his words as I walk a short distance away from him. Nerves bubble in my stomach, fearing that this could be an epic disaster and I could go tumbling across the floor. Yet as I run and jump into his arms, I’ve never felt safer than when he holds me tightly above his head. Strong hands gripping my waist hard, ensuring that he won’t let me fall.
I giggle excitedly when he begins to lower me, holding me close to his body so that I am face to face with him though not quite placing me on the ground. The intensity of his stare makes me feel in a way that I’ve never felt with anyone else before and for the first time since death, I feel safe. I feel comfortable. I feel brave.
Once again, Charlie’s words ring through my head and before I can stop myself my hands are holding his cheeks softly. With every ounce of bravery within me and despite some part deep inside of me screaming no, fearing a repeat of previous situations, I hesitantly brush my lips over his. He’s so gentle, allowing me to lead so as to not push me too far.
Wally’s lips are soft against mine, interlocking slowly and delicately. My stomach feels crazy, the butterflies feel as though they’re trying to escape and I push myself further into the kiss. Allowing passion to take over and quashing the fear as much as physically possible. My arms slide from Wally’s cheeks to his hair, raking my fingers through the dark locks as my legs wrap around his torso in order to provide more stability.
I find myself desperately yearning for more, kissing the footballer with such intensity and heat, I didn’t know I was physically capable of. However, as his hands slowly move from holding my waist to situating themselves just beneath my ass, I struggle to fight the fear and worry residing within me.
As much as I don’t want to, I slowly pull myself away from the dark haired boy. Unwrapping my legs from him, signaling to be placed on the ground, which Wally does so gently. Even as I step away from him, he’s gazing at me with such awe that I feel like the luckiest girl on the planet.
“As amazing as that was, I think that’s as far as I want to go for now.” I admit, shame coursing through my veins making me unable to look at Wally afraid that he will judge me, or even worse, become angry. “Is that okay?”
My voice is meek and quiet, terrified of the response I am about to receive. Yet, when Wally’s hand ever so softly touches my chin, raising it to look at him, he has quite possibly the sweetest look on his face. Offering me a warm smile.
“Of course, we don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do.”
Heart racing, a sense of accomplishment washes over me. I’m one step closer to processing and I feel a renewed hope that perhaps I can have a normal afterlife. Or at the very least attempt to live peacefully in this eternity without suffering for the rest of time.
Steve's got a crush on the girl next door. Though not everything is as it seems.
Warning: Mature language, domestic violence, cheating (kind of, maybe?), smut, p in v sex
Steve knew he was in trouble the moment the moving van pulled to a halt at the house next door. He was never one to make an effort with people, at best he would reluctantly greet any new neighbors with his parents after his mother’s persistence. It’s not like he was being nosy, he just so happened to glance out of one of his bedroom windows as the family exited the van. They looked nice, friendly, nothing too out of the ordinary, just a very all-American couple. Or so he thought.
He continued to watch as they waved for a third person to climb out the vehicle and admire their new home. Steve wasn’t one to believe in love at first sight, however, upon seeing her, perhaps he felt differently. She was anything but ordinary, a ray of sunshine in the boring old town of Hawkins. Dressed in a short red dress with a thin white cardigan draped over top, he took note of the way she wrapped the thin material tighter around her body. As though she felt too exposed. Steve admired everything about the mysterious girl, from the dazzling smile on her face, to the way her hair was tied back in an adorable white bow. Heart pounding at an alarming rate, he knew deep down that this girl may very well be the death of him.
In the months that followed, despite Steve’s hope to get to know the girl next door, she seemed to pay no interest in him. They’d exchanged pleasantries, come to learn one another’s names and briefly made small talk if they passed each other outside of their homes. Steve couldn’t understand what he had done wrong, sure, he knew that following his graduation from Hawkins High, he had lost his King Steve ways. Yet, he thought he at least had the same charm, not to mention she hadn’t once seen him in his Scoops Ahoy uniform, so he couldn’t pretend that that’s what had turned her off.
He’d come to understand her routine by now, knowing that she often climbed out of her bedroom window, shimmying down the drainpipe in the dead of night when she thinks nobody will see her. Only to return a few hours later, creeping back into her house before the first crack of dawn, ensuring that her parents didn’t know of her nighttime activities. Sometimes, she gets dropped off by a mysterious white chevy camaro, and whilst Steve never caught sight of the driver, he assumed it was a boy. Heart sinking to his stomach everytime the car would pull into their driveway, knowing that it wasn’t him that she was spending the night with.
He swore he wasn’t obsessed, insisting to Robin that he was just ensuring that she returned home safely after she caught him gazing out of the window one too many times. It’s not like she had no idea who the fascinating girl was, Steve spoke about her often, disguising the very obvious crush as nothing more than an interest in her wellbeing. Robin wasn’t stupid. Knowing her best friend like the back of her hand and it was obvious that he was head over heels in love with this girl that he hardly knew.
Which leads us to present day, Steve was sitting in the alcove of his window, curtains open slightly, blowing gently with the light summer breeze. Fleetwood Mac played softly from the record player beside him, though he wasn’t focused on the music. Eyes drifting between the magazine in his hand to the house next door, awaiting his neighbor’s return. He watched the hands on his watch ominously creep forward and he couldn’t help but feel a pit of worry begin to form within his gut. 04:37AM. She’s normally back by now. Usually climbing back through her bedroom window at around 4AM.
Deep down, Steve knew that it had nothing to do with him, what she chose to do in her spare time. The pair weren’t even friends, if she wanted to stay out all night then he couldn’t stop her. However, he knew this wasn’t like her. Not wanting to feel like a creep for watching the girl so intently, he did his best to quash the nerves bubbling inside him. Forcing himself to stay awake, no matter how tired he felt or how much his eyelids were desperate for the sweet relief of sleep.
5:49AM. Sometime between now and him previously checking the time, Steve must have drifted into an uneasy slumber. The sound of a car door slamming before revving the engine and flying off down the street is what pulls him back to consciousness. Startling him as he eagerly pulls the curtain back gently so as not to draw attention to himself. Though, when he takes in the sight of the girl, all his excitement at the few seconds he is granted to observe her, vanishes instantly when he notices her appearance.
Even in the dim orange light, he is clearly able to make out the violent bruise beneath her left eye, swollen to the point she is almost unable to open it at all. Evidently recent, her skin is already beginning to turn a deep mauve. Her lips are no better, mahogany brown lipstick smeared across her face as though a child has scrawled it on. There’s a deep, gaping cut directly through her bottom lip, dried blood in a dirty shade of red cracks in the corner of her mouth. While fresh scarlet liquid continues to fall and drip from the wound, stained across her chin as she shakily brings a hand to her face, attempting to wipe it the best she can.
For the first time in his life, Steve doesn’t know what to do. He’s tempted to sprint down there, offer her any assistance she may need but he’s afraid that it may scare her away. So instead, he watches with a racing heart as she struggles to pull herself through her bedroom window. Clearly having lost any strength she may have had previously. His heart is broken for her and he wants nothing more than to hold her in his arms and tell her that everything will be okay.
Lost in his thoughts, he is completely unaware that the girl has seen him watching. Hastily snapping her curtains closed as she allows the tears to fall freely without prying eyes following her every move. She’s embarrassed that Steve saw her in such a state, oblivious to the fact that he still thought she was the most breathtaking being to ever walk the planet, in spite of her injuries.
It had been a week and a half since Steve had caught me returning home, bloody and bruised. Ever since, I’ve been avoiding the boy as much as physically possible. Checking that he isn’t in his window before I make my escape from the house. It’s not like we talk much, Luke made sure of that the second he laid eyes on my neighbor, however, I don’t want him to think any less of me. I was always cautious around Steve, putting on my best display of a pretty, confident girl, even if I felt anything but. That was how I wanted him to perceive me. I certainly didn’t want him to view me as weak, or judge me for what has happened.
Steve caught my eye the minute he entered my family’s house warming party, every lady in the vicinity flocking over to him. Vying for a slither of his attention, yet, I couldn’t help but notice how his eyes kept wandering to mine. Friendly smiles shared between the two of us before a proper introduction from our parents. It wasn’t hard to see why the ladies adored him. He was charming, polite and ever so funny, and despite only talking for a matter of minutes, I found myself entranced by him. Wanting to learn every little detail and explore every inch of his body.
I shouldn’t have thought about him this way, not when I have a boyfriend. However, I simply just couldn’t help myself. Luke has never been a good guy, I knew that when I began dating him, often finding himself in trouble with the police, unafraid to drag me down with him. Though, he was always good to me, at least until I met Steve. For whatever reason, Luke became overwhelmed with rage, something about knowing his reputation and what he was like at school. The night of the party was when Luke laid a hand on me for the first time, a swift smack to the cheek after I mentioned Steve’s name in conversation. Each time it happened, he would continue on as though nothing had taken place. Silently handing me flowers or another small gift the next day, an apology without actually saying the words ‘I’m sorry’. I tell myself that I will leave and never see him again but I continue to run back. Fearful that if I do leave, I won’t find love again.
After checking to find no sign of Steve, I carefully begin my descent down the drainpipe, hopping on to the grass below me when I’m only a few meters above the ground. Brushing my hands to rid myself of any dirt that may have come from the pipe, I turn to begin the walk to the end of the road where I meet Luke and his friends, only to find Steve standing mere feet away. Hands in the pockets of his Levi’s, leaning against the side of his house, having been waiting for me. How did I not see him when he was standing right there?
“I saw you the other night, and I needed to know that you’re okay.” He speaks softly, almost as if he’s scared that I’m going to take off running. His eyes are scanning my face, studying me, attempting to see how bad my wounds were. Unfortunately, my face is plastered in makeup, hiding the unsightly damage.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” I’m unable to look the boy in the eyes as I lie to his face. Focusing instead on the scuffed converse glued to my feet, trying to think of a thousand different ways to get myself out of this situation.
Steve sighs, pushing himself away from the wall and walking towards me slowly, and whilst doing my best to keep my distance, I find myself with my back pressed to my own house. Almost identical to his positioning only moments ago.
He’s closer now, standing directly in front of me and I can only pray that my makeup combined with the barely there moonlight, truly hides what Luke did to me. With shaking hands, he nervously takes my jaw between his fingers, my breath catching in my throat as he does so. Gently moving my head from side to side in order to truly examine my features. Judging by the look of concern that flashes across his face and the way he takes a deep breath as he lowers his hand, I know he knows the truth.
“You don’t have to lie to me.” He whispers, coffee brown eyes gazing directly into mine, asserting that his words are truthful. “What happened to you?”
Something about him has me hanging on to his every word, believing that I am truly safe with him. Assuring me that perhaps Steve could be my way out, the reason I don’t return. He has such a warm presence, it’s inviting and I just want to spill my guts to him.
Opening my mouth to speak, I’m forced to remain silent as the familiar sound of a car engine grinds to a halt on my driveway. Whether I was going to tell Steve everything or simply deny everything, I’m unsure, but the moment that car appears, my mouth remains shut. Glancing over to the driver’s seat, I can just about see Luke over the beams of his headlights. Fear begins to flood my body as I can see the deep scowl set upon his face.
“I have to go.”
Pushing past Steve, I force myself to muster up a smile, not wanting to give Luke another reason to be upset with me. I mean, I can’t blame him for being mad at me tonight, he warned me to stay away from Steve and yet, he’s caught me red handed clearly disobeying the one thing he asked of me. It definitely doesn’t help that Steve grabs hold of my wrist as I begin to walk away, causing me to snap my head back to look at him. Brows furrowed in annoyance, I know he is just trying to help, to be a good person but he is only going to make things worse for me.
“Please. Don’t go.” His voice breaks, and for a split second I allow my eyes to soften, shaking my arm out of his grasp. Attempting to reassure him with the tiniest of smiles before silently hurrying over to the car.
Luke doesn’t even acknowledge me as I slide in beside him, possessively grabbing my thigh, a display of dominance. He has an eerie smirk on his face, not once taking his eyes off Steve, who stands in the same spot defeated, claiming his ownership over me. As much as it pains me, I keep my head down, sinking further into the seat, wanting to disappear off the face of the earth entirely.
For the rest of the night, my mind is plagued with thoughts of Steve. The hurt in his eyes as I walked away. I can’t bring myself to engage in any conversation that takes place, not like Luke wants me to anyway. He’s icing me out. Clearly upset about the situation he found me in, his friends must also sense the tension as they make no effort to include me.
Beers continue to flow throughout the night, hands shaking every time I place another can into Luke’s hand. He’s driving us home, though shows no sign of stopping despite being on what must be his eighth carlsberg in the span of only a few hours. It doesn’t help that his pals encourage him, egging him on to drink as much as I can, laughing at the idea of recklessly driving through the streets of Hawkins. To them, it’s a game. Let’s see how much we can drink and still make it home, to me it’s a life or death situation. Afraid that in his intoxicated state, we actually won’t make it home in one piece.
“Listen Robin, she needs help.” Steve sighs into the receiver, eyes never leaving the window, not wanting to miss the girl’s return. Hoping that maybe, just maybe, she will allow him to help her.
“Steve, as nice as it is that you care, it’s none of our business. Besides, you don’t even know what happened, for all we know she could be in some elusive fight club and the good girl act she has going on is nothing more than that.” Robin twirls the cord of the phone around her finger, she’s never met the mystery girl that her best friend seems to be hypnotized by, worried that he is possibly getting in over his head, if what he is saying is true.
“He hits her Robin! I know it, she won’t admit it but I know he does.” His voice is strained, sounding as though he could burst into tears at any moment and Robin can’t help but feel sorry for him. She’s never seen him care this much about a girl, especially one that is practically a stranger. Sure, he loved Nancy, but this seemed different. In a way that she couldn’t quite put a finger on. “God, I’d love to know who the bastard is that’s doing this.”
“I’m gonna stop you right there Steve, let’s say for argument’s sake, you’re right. Her boyfriend is a piece of shit and is getting physical with her, in which case she does need help. Question one, what are you gonna do exactly to help her? Question two, what do you actually think you’re gonna do to the asshole boyfriend because last time I checked, you’ve lost every fight you’ve ever been in. And number three, why do you care so much about this mystery girl? I mean, from what I’ve gathered, you know nothing about her other than her name.”
Robin’s words, although intended to help him, hit Steve like a ton of bricks. What was he actually going to do to help her? He hadn’t thought that far ahead, possibly because somewhere deep down he believed that she would continue to refuse any support from him. Nor did he know why he cared so much. It was like there was some magnetic force tugging his heart towards her anytime she was nearby. A pull so strong that he was unable to deny it, not that he wanted to.
“Fuck, I don’t know Rob, I don’t have a plan okay. I just can’t let her get hurt anymore-” Before Steve can say anything else, he hears the very faint sound of footsteps dragging down the sidewalk outside. Immediately dropping the phone, he’s bolting towards the window, Robin’s voice calling for him distantly. Not even his worst nightmares could’ve prepared him for what he witnessed.
He thought he’d seen her at her worst, nothing surpassing the extent of her previous injuries, he couldn’t have been more wrong. Deep and gaping slash across her forehead, a bright crimson red that cuts off just below her eyebrow. The cut on her lip reopened, once again pouring with blood. All of the makeup that she had left the house in was nowhere to be seen, violet bruises litter her jaw, matching the black eye she is no longer able to hide.
Tears prick at the corner of Steve’s eyes, watching as she carefully limps towards their houses. Struggling to walk, no doubt from the physical pain she is enduring, one arm clutching her side the entire time. Informing him that the wounds on her face aren’t the only ones she has obtained.
Incapable of holding himself back, Steve is sprinting out of his bedroom and down the large oak staircase. Thanking the heavens that his parents are away on yet another work trip so he doesn’t have to explain everything to them. They wouldn’t understand his need to help, insisting that whatever she was going through was a personal matter and that he shouldn’t be meddling in other people’s private lives.
He yanks the door open with so much force that it thumps against the wall, he’s only two steps outside his house when he realizes that she is standing in front of him. Half expecting to find her attempting to climb the drainpipe, he can’t hide the shock on his face as she stands gripping one of the posts at the bottom of the stairs leading to his porch. She wheezes, breath rattling each time she takes a gasp for air and he knows that’s not a good sign.
Standing beneath him under the lights from his house, he is able to see more clearly just how bad her injuries truly were. Red marks wrap around her neck, an indication of strangulation and he has to stop himself from breaking down right then and there. Wanting nothing more than to wrap her in his arms and never let go.
“I couldn’t go home.” She chokes out, lifting the hand that clutches her side, hand stained red. Raising his eyes to her stomach, he spots the wet patch on her t-shirt and releases a shaky gasp. Before he can even think about his actions, he is striding over to her, strong arms embracing her smaller figure to aid her into his house.
It’s with great difficulty that they reach the porch, her knees ready to give out at any moment. Though she’d been fighting for this long, she finally loses the last of her energy after completing the stairs. Caught off guard by her sudden fall, Steve almost drops the girl, catching her at the last second and easing her to the wood beneath their feet. He couldn’t lie and say that he isn’t panicked because he is. Completely out of his depth in this situation, he has no idea what to do. Watching her face drain slowly of its color, he knows he’s losing time and yet his mind is blank. Lost on what he needs to do.
Eyelids flickering shut, he sees whatever light she had left in them fading away more and more each time her eyes close. Hands gripping her face gently, his thumbs push loose strands of hair out of her face as he gazes down at her, heart shattering at the thought of losing her entirely.
“Don’t close your eyes, please don’t close your eyes!” Steve sees the slight smile on her face as she listens to his voice, it’s the first time he’s seen her smile in a long time and he thinks to himself that she is still the most perfect girl he has ever laid eyes on. Even if his hands have left bloodied handprints all over her cheeks as he cradles her face.
“It’s gonna be okay, I’ve got you. You’re gonna be okay.”
Soft melodies flutter quietly from down the hallway, the sun beaming through the open windows makes it hard for my eyes to adjust as I prop myself up in bed. Stomach aching harshly as I do so, a tightness making it hard for me to move properly. Lifting the unfamiliar yellow sweater, I find the entirety of my torso wrapped up in a neat, white bandage. Pinned carefully so as not to poke my skin. I struggle to place the bedroom I’m in, it’s unknown to me and still I find myself comforted in this new environment.
My feet follow the sound of the new Queen album, Freddie Mercury’s powerful vocals leading me to the large, open plan kitchen. The distinct smell of grilled tomatoes drifts over to me, a homely scent. Eyes rising from the hardwood floor, it’s only then that I see him, a loose red sweater hanging from his broad shoulder, paired with loose black pajama bottoms that hang low on his hips. He hasn’t noticed me yet, too engrossed in whatever he is cooking up to sense my presence, lips mouthing the words to whichever song is playing. The corners of my lips quirk up in a shy smile, imagining a life in another reality where this was how I woke up everything morning.
“Good morning.”
My voice is quiet as I lean against the doorframe, careful not to rest any of my side against the wall. Steve jumps, mouth falling open slightly in surprise as his eyes find mine. My smile grows wider as he drops the wooden spoon he previously held, not caring as it hits the floor with a clatter. He pads over to me eagerly, throwing his arms around my shoulder and tugging me into his chest. I can tell by the way that he’s holding me, he’s scared of hurting me. His touch light, not daring to hold me too tight. However, I do catch the way his grip tightens on the sweater when my arms slide around his waist, allowing my head to rest against his chest. Hearing the steady beat of his heart releases all the tension and stress I had built up within me and I relax entirely.
Much to my dismay, Steve releases me from the embrace after a few short minutes, keeping his hands on my shoulders firmly, worry evident in the browns of his eyes as he makes a mental note of every little cut and bruise on my face. I feel him delicately brush the backs of his fingers down the side of my face, tracing over what I assume is another bandage of some sort as I no longer feel his touch on my skin when he reaches my forehead. He’s trying his best to hide the frown on his face, but I’m studying him so intently that I don’t miss it.
“I’m okay Steve, I promise.”
“Let me help you.” He whispers, pressing the lightest of kisses to the top of my head as he pulls me in for a second hug, resting his chin on the same part of me that he just kissed. “You’re breaking my heart Y/N, please, just tell me what’s going on.”
With a small sigh, I reluctantly pull myself away from the taller boy. Playing with the hem of the sweater that just about covers me, as I wander over to the kitchen island, taking a seat on one of the many stools. I sit opposite Steve, who stands with his elbows resting against the counter top. Tomatoes sizzling away, completely forgotten about by the both of us.
I have to swallow the lump in my throat, realizing that I am in fact about to confess possibly the most shameful and embarrassing secret of my life to the boy that I have fantasized about since the day we first met. It’s impossible to describe the effect he has on me, only Steve Harrington could be the one to coax my deep dark secrets out after keeping them hidden for months. Only Steve Harrington would be the one person to care enough.
“I don’t really know what to say, Luke was a nice boyfriend at first, he drank too much and got into trouble a lot but he was nice. When I moved next door to you though, he became crazily jealous, he’d lash out at me if I even so much as mentioned your name. Something about a bad past between the two of you. He never used to get physical, it only started a few months back, he would just get so unbelievably angry. It didn’t matter what I did, the littlest thing could set him off and he’d just see red.” Steve has his hands to his mouth as I speak, almost like he can’t believe what I’m saying. His expression is one of pain and I can’t hide the sadness I feel as I tell him the truth. “Last night was the worst. Luke, he drank far too much, a lot more than he should’ve since he was driving. I think he was just trying to scare me by going so fast but we got into an argument and he took his eyes off the road for literally like ten seconds. We almost went headfirst into a huge brick wall but I grabbed the wheel and instead we spun off the road, down into a ditch and hit a tree. I think that’s where I got all the cuts from, the windows shattered and glass was everywhere. I mean, the car is totaled completely.
Then Luke lost it. He was screaming at me, that it was my fault we crashed. I just remember him pulling me out of the car and wrapping his hands around my throat. Steve, I thought I was going to die.”
I’m staring over at him with such vulnerability that his own gaze softens. Reaching over the counter to wipe away the tears that slide down my cheeks. Movements cautious and tender.
“I think I must’ve kept blacking out because everything after that is a bit of a blur. I remember him being on top of me, punching me and how I struggled to breathe. The next thing I know, I’m on your doorstep, I didn’t know where else to go. My parents can’t know about this, they’d be devastated and well, I feel safe with you.”
Steve’s round the island the second I stop talking, nudging himself between my thighs and taking my hands in his. Thumbs lightly rubbing over the tops of my knuckles. I know in my heart that he is a good man, that he isn’t judging me for what I have been through. Yet, the longer he remains silent, the more I feel the worry gnawing at me. Terrified that he is going to shame me for what I confessed.
“Promise me, you’ll never go back.” Steve speaks firmly, piercing eyes focused solely on my own. Even if I was afraid to leave before, I don’t think I physically can say no to that handsome face of his.
“I promise.”
“Stay with me, for as long as you want. I’ll take care of you, I swear it. I won’t let anybody hurt you ever again.”
The determination on Steve’s face and in his voice has me smiling like a child on christmas. Things would’ve been so much simpler had I met him before Luke. I wouldn’t have endured all of the trauma of the past few months. Though, gazing up at him right now, with nothing but love and care in his eyes, I can’t help but wonder if this is how things were supposed to happen.
“Only if you want to stay here, if you want me that is?” His gaze falters for the first time since I entered the kitchen, fearful he may have overstepped. I know he’s not asking me to be his girlfriend, or for anything serious at all. The question, however, has me feeling slightly dizzy, understanding that he’s asking if I want him to be around. To be by my side and help me through all of this.
After taking a much needed shower, and pulling the yellow sweater back over my body, I feel content laid in Steve’s bed, aimlessly flipping through one of his magazines as I await his return. The boy was hesitant to tell me where he was going, insisting he just had to run a few errands and that he would be back shortly. He’s only been gone two hours at best and I still find myself missing his warm presence already.
When I hear the faint sound of the main door clicking, my head perks up, moving to sit upright so that I can greet him the second he walks through the threshold of his bedroom. Opening the bedroom door slowly, I notice he keeps his head down, not wanting to look at me. A sharp tinge of hurt flows through me as I watch him silently shrug off his coat, back turned so he’s still facing away from me.
“Steve?”
I hear the sigh escape from his mouth, he reluctantly turns to face me. Head still turned towards the floor but I don’t miss the bloody graze just above his eyebrow. Gasping softly, I scramble to the edge of the bed, raised on my knees in order to take his head in my hands. Accepting that it’s my turn to inspect his injury.
“What happened?”
His hands hold my wrists, finally meeting my gaze as I look at him with curiosity. What sort of errands leave you with a bloody face? I have my suspicions about where he truly was, however, I want him to admit the truth to me, rather than throwing out false accusations.
“I’m sorry Y/N. I just couldn’t let him get away with what he did to you.” His voice is tainted with humiliation, embarrassed by his actions. Though, I couldn’t be more attracted to him than I am right now.
Sliding my hands to the back of his neck, I’m pulling him down to my face before he can even react to what is happening. My lips are on his, kissing him firmly even if it does cause the cut on my lip to sting. His mouth moves against my own, hands settling comfortably on my waist, still careful not to apply any pressure to the bandaged area. I play with the hair at the nape of his neck and can’t contain the soft whine that leaves my mouth when his tongue flicks over mine with ease.
“Please tell me he looks worse than you.” I ask desperately, chest heaving as I regain some air following the kiss. He nods with a chuckle, a shiver running down his spine as I continue to twirl the hair between my fingers.
“Don’t worry, I took care of him.” He tells me, tentatively pushing my body against the bed, crawling on top of me as though he’s done it one thousand times before. “Now the question is, are you going to let me take care of you?”
Nodding my head eagerly, a bright smile settles on my face as he presses tender kisses to my neck, agonizingly slowly making his way down my chest. As best he can with the sweater still covering my body. One hand tightly holds my hip, the other traces my thigh ever so softly.
My own hands rest in his brown locks, gripping harder when he sucks or nips at my skin. The feeling arouses me even more so and I’m embarrassed to admit just how much I want Steve.
“Take it off.” I whisper as his hands hesitantly play with the hem of his yellow sweater. Before carefully pulling it over my body, displaying my bandaged and bruised body, though he pays no attention to this. Eyes wide, fixated on my chest and the lack of a bra to cover my breasts. If it wasn’t for the look of lust in his eyes, I’d be covering myself up, self conscious of my appearance.
Steve wastes no time, wrapping his lips around one of my nipples, licking delicately while using a hand to palm the other one softly. A breathy moan escapes my lips and in the brief moment we make eye contact, I feel as though I could cum right then and there.
As his mouth and one of his hands focus on my breasts, his spare hand reaches my panties. Dragging his fingers over the thin material, teasing, he rubs circles, touch barely there though I’m sure he can feel the growing wet patch. I can feel his hips grinding down onto the bed between my legs, attempting to provide himself with some sort of relief.
Cautiously I push on his shoulders, to which he instantly pulls himself away from me. Fearing he may have done something wrong or that I’ve changed my mind. However, when I push him back against the bed and rid him of his clothes, I don’t miss the boyish grin plastered on his face.
Straddling his hips, I begin to grind myself over his erection, lips catching his in a desperate kiss. It’s messy and wet, neither focused on anything more than the pleasure experienced from our movements. He pants and whines softly, hands toying with my nipples, making me breathless. I can feel my side aching at the movement, yet I don’t care to stop, accepting the pain as a result of my need for the boy beneath me.
“Do you have a condom?” I ask through a string of deep breaths, gazing down at Steve with nothing but passion.
He doesn’t even take his eyes off me as he pulls his bedside drawer open before reaching in and handing me a silver packet. I remove myself from his lap momentarily, yanking my panties down my legs faster than I ever have before. When his boxers are removed, I rip open the little packet, rolling the latex down his length. Before dragging my hand up and down it delicately, resulting in a shaky exhale from Steve.
As I position myself above him, tip grazing over my clit gently, he grabs my wrists, eyes locked on mine. “Are you sure this is okay?”
“It’s more than okay.” I reassure him, grabbing his member and ever so carefully lowering myself onto him.
Gasp slipping from my lips as I take all of him inside of me, never having felt so full in my life. Steve’s fingers are stroking my hips, staring at me with an encouraging smile as I work up the nerve to move slightly. A hesitant lift of my hips before pushing myself back down. As I take more and more, I find myself shocked by how easily he slides in and out of me. Bounces easy and indescribably pleasurable.
Pressing my hands to his chest, I find the perfect rhythm, a combination of bouncing on his length, whilst rocking forwards just a little in order to hit the spot deep inside of me that evokes the most toe curling feeling within me.
Steve’s eyes are closed, deep groans emitting from his throat as his hands knead my ass softly. Hair stuck to his forehead from the sweat and cheeks flushed a deep red, yet he’s still the most beautiful man I have ever seen.
Mere seconds later I find myself reaching the boiling point, gripping Steve’s shoulders tightly as I rock myself through quite possibly the most intense orgasm of my life. Collapsing onto his chest with heavy breaths, his weight shifts under me and he begins to thrust up into me. Chasing his own high. The sensitivity becomes too much and I find myself seeing stars as he releases into the condom with a string of obscenities.
Rolling off him reluctantly, I watch as he rids himself of the latex, launching it into the bin at the otherside of the room. Turning to me, he opens his arms, wrapping me in them gently.
“I will never let anybody hurt you, not again.” He mutters into my hair and I’m unsure whether he’s telling me or himself.
Intimate Treasures. (Steve Harrington x Adult Store Worker!Reader)
Word Count: 4.5K
Y/N works in an adult store and Steve can't seem to stay away.
Warning: Smut, p in v sex, cunnilingus (m and f receiving), dirty talk, knife kink, sex toys, mature language
Weekdays were always slow at Intimate Treasures, most people either working their regular 9-5’s or simply too embarrassed to be caught in an adult store mid week. Opting to discreetly shop on a Friday or Saturday night, hoping nobody will catch them. I often find myself amused by the actions of our customers, ninety percent of which seem to be ashamed of themselves for purchasing such ‘dirty’ products, as they like to call them.
Upon the opening of the store, many citizens of Hawkins were vocal of their displeasure at the presence of such a place. Believing that there was no place in the town for us. They argued that by opening within the Starcourt Mall, we would be indoctrinating their children into believing that sex is something that should be enjoyed and explored freely. Rather than an act of love that should only be taking place once married for the sole purpose of reproduction. There have been numerous occasions when I’ve argued with people about this, lecturing them on the importance of sexual liberation and safety rather than shaming people for their choices.
It was during one of these arguments that I met him for the first time. Wrapped up in a heated debate with none other than the local priest who was offering to save me from hell, I almost missed the mop of fluffy brown hair that hesitantly crossed the threshold of the store. He was trying to act casual, as though being here was no big deal, but I could tell he was nervous. Fumbled movements causing him to almost knock over a display of free condoms. To which he pocketed a few in the shorts of his little sailor outfit.
“What you are doing here in this store is sinful, I am only looking out for you young lady.” My eyes snap back to the priest who is glancing around the place in utter disgust, one hand gripping the cross around his neck, the other clutching a Bible.
“If you think this is sinful, you should see what I do in bed, old man.”
Despite losing sight of the sailor, I hear a muffled laugh coming from down one of the aisles and I can’t help but feel pleased that I’m not necessarily alone in this argument.
“You could be doing so much more with your life! You don’t need this filth, the Lord can set you on the right path if you would just let me cleanse you of your impurity.” The man pleads, his words failing to provide the impact he is hoping for.
Resting my elbows on the countertop, I lean towards the priest, hoping he pays attention to me. “Listen, I know for a fact that the Bible doesn’t specifically mention anything about sex toys or masturbation and not all of us are lucky enough to be in a relationship. Though I’m sure your wife isn’t exactly thrilled with her sex life.”
He gasps at my words, shuffling towards the door whilst muttering about ‘young dirty girls of today’.
“Be sure to send your wife in, her first vibrator is on me!”
As the door swings closed behind him, I let out a sigh of relief. Completely fed up of having the same arguments over and over again. My eyes fall back down to the stack of boxes by my feet, filled to the brim with new lingerie sets that need putting out on the shop floor.
Not wanting to waste any time, I quickly add the inventory to the system before hanging the black latex to the hangers. I won’t deny, it’s a gorgeous set. Shiny black bralette, so thin that the strap of fabric is only big enough to cover the nipple, with a matching thong, which also happens to be just as small. It leaves very little to the imagination, and I would be tempted to spend my paycheck on it, had I anybody to wear it for.
Finding a spot in one of the aisles, I begin to hang the various sizes on the wall. Careful to make sure that they’re all in size order so that they’re easy to find. A shuffle of feet towards the end of the aisle pulls me from my thoughts, the sailor intently staring at different wand vibrators. Every few seconds picking one up before putting it back with a shake of his head.
“Need some help?” I ask, hanging the last of the lingerie up and strolling towards him.
His eyes widen as I stand next to him, a deep red blush rising on his cheeks and I can’t help but smile softly at his awkwardness. I’m never one to assume, though I’m fairly certain this may be his first time in any adult stores. If his blush is anything to go by.
“Sorry, I just don’t really know what I’m supposed to be looking for.”
“Something for your girlfriend?” I push, the question slips off my tongue easily, one I generally ask all the male customers that look in need of assistance, yet something in me is praying that he answers with a no.
I won’t deny that he’s attractive, even with the unfortunate attire that he appears to be sporting. He has a boyish look about him due to the costume, it’s cute and soft. However, his chestnut brown eyes are dark and I can tell that he is very much a man.
“No, no girlfriend.” He admits, shoving his hands in his pockets, as he does so I’m able to catch a quick glimpse and notice the large size, backs of his palms displaying very prominent veins and I can’t help but squeeze my legs at the sight.
I’m not entirely sure what’s wrong with me. Never usually finding someone so attractive upon meeting for the first time, yet I’m practically drooling over the man in front of me. Even if I am putting on a very cool front.
“This is kind of awkward to admit but I wanted a vibrator you know for when I do have girls over. Just for something different I guess, in case my performance doesn’t cut it.”
I’m taken aback by his admission, most men refusing to believe they couldn’t be absolutely incredible in bed and insisting they’re only getting a toy because their wife wouldn’t stop pestering. To have a man so open about possibly not being perfect is refreshing and I realize I’m most definitely going to need some ice cold water then this customer leaves.
“Oh wow, that’s so thoughtful of you.” I tell him, moving slightly closer to the wall of products in order to assist him as best I can. Carefully, I grab a hot pink box, offering it to him. “So this is the newest wand vibrator we have, it has three different settings and a very long battery life. Trust me any girl would love it, it only took me about five minutes to cum when I used it for the first time.”
His eyes are focused on the box, teeth catching his bottom lip as he reads the information on the back. Eyebrows furrowed in concentration, truly reading everything about the product in his hands. Something about him intrigues me, whether it be the sailor outfit or the fact that he truly cares about his sexual partners, I’m not sure.
The second time that the interesting sailor entered the store was only two days later. A Thursday evening, most of the stores in the mall were closing for the day, not us however. Opting to stay open later for more of a sense of privacy.
I’m idly flipping through one of the latest editions of Playboy magazine, staring down at the women sprawled out on the pages. They ooze confidence and sex appeal, something I could only dream of. Whilst I wouldn’t say I necessarily lack confidence, I most certainly do not have a string of guys desperate for my attention like the women in the magazine.
Completely wrapped up in my own thoughts as I turn the page, it’s only when a handful of products are placed on the countertop that I glance up. Boredom evident on my face, I’m counting down the minutes until I can close the store and head home for the night. That is, until I realize who the customer is.
“I didn’t think girls were into Playboy.”
Running a hand through his perfectly styled brown mane, he smiles at me as he speaks and I struggle to hide my excitement at his return. Though there is still a hint of red on his cheeks, he seems calmer this time, clearly less embarrassed by his visit.
“I don’t know if you can tell, but we don’t exactly stock academic reading material.” I joke, beginning to ring the items through the till.
Bottle of lube, metal handcuffs and black bondage tape. Don’t get me wrong, I’m no stranger to the kinky items that I ring out on a daily basis. Yet, something about the handsome sailor buying them has me weak at the knees and I have to look anywhere other than his face as I bag everything for him.
“Hey, I just wanted to thank you by the way.” Finally making eye contact with the man, I can’t hide my confusion at his words. “For your help last time, the vibrator was a big hit.”
“Oh right yeah. No problem at all, I’m glad I could offer my assistance.”
My smile falters, why am I jealous? I shouldn’t be jealous, I should be pleased that I could help another customer. Pleased that I’m allowing others to enjoy their wants and desires. However, something about knowing the stranger has already used my suggestion on another woman hurts. I sound desperate, it’s not like me to get hung up on a man I have only briefly interacted with twice and yet here I am.
“No seriously, it was the most intense hook up I’ve ever had and it’s all thanks to you.” He rummages through his pockets as he speaks, before sliding a piece of paper across the countertop.
Free ice cream on me - Steve.
“I work at Scoops Ahoy, figured I owed you one.”
“Now the sailor outfit makes sense.” I laugh softly, carefully folding the piece of paper and slipping it into my pocket.
“I know. It sucks, does not help me woo the ladies at all.” He smiles bashfully, handing me the cash to pay for the products.
“I think it’s cute.” The words fall out of my mouth before I can stop myself and my head drops to the floor, shaking it lightly, humiliated by what I just said. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean, it’s just-”
“Good to know, I’ll see you later.” He looks at me expectantly, awaiting my name, as he makes his way towards the exit.”
“Y/N.”
“I’ll see you later Y/N.”
The moment the door closes behind him, I slide to the carpeted floor, head in my hands, afraid I may have just completely made a fool of myself in front of Steve. Doing my best to get over how mortified I feel, I quickly stride to the door and flip the sign to closed, not wanting to humiliate myself further in front of any more customers tonight, even if I am technically supposed to be open for another hour and a half.
“I swear to God John, if you take these home and add them to your wank bank, I am going to kill you with my bare hands.”
This week seems to be one embarrassing event after the next, standing in nothing but the new micro black latex lingerie, I pose awkwardly in front of the only blank wall in the building, allowing the store owner to take photos of me on the polaroid.
“Listen, we need to advertise what we have on offer, putting these pictures in the window is bound to gain more customers. Not to mention the added benefit of being served by the hot girl plastered in the window.” He states as though it's obvious, shoving a large kitchen knife into my hand which I take reluctantly. “Now spread those legs and lick the knife.”
Dropping to a squat, I spread my legs wide open, raising the knife to my mouth and seductively licking a stripe down the edge, careful not to cut myself. I may as well be completely naked with how little the lingerie covers, moving the knife to cover my vagina, I feign a gasp as he snaps another photo.
“You’re a natural, I’ll put these in the window and then I’m off for the night.”
I throw the knife on to the counter as I watch with folded arms how John sticks up the photos by the door. No doubt we’ll have complaints as each photo has me in increasingly compromised positions. It’s borderline pornographic.
Catching glimpses of the photos every couple of seconds, I can admit that I do look good. Incredibly good. They’re sexy and I feel empowered, it’s just a shame that they have to be on display for everybody to see. I’m all for being sexually liberated, I’m just not sure I believe everybody should be allowed to see me in such a vulnerable environment.
John leaves with a quick wave in my direction, flipping the sign on his way out so that I can finish my closing tasks in peace. Throwing myself down on the couch beside the window, I feel the shame start to flood my body. I begin to feel dirty and used, allowing my boss to take advantage of the fact that I have to follow his orders.
Is this how the women in Playboy feel? Never once have I questioned if selling dirty magazines is unethical, believing that the woman in them felt free and proud that they can be so open and sexual. Now I’m starting to think that perhaps that isn’t the case.
With my head resting against the back of the couch and my eyes fixated on the uneven tiles on the ceiling, I hear the door click open beside me. Internally sighing, I don’t avert my gaze as I speak.
“We’re closed!” Voice snappier than I intended it to be, however, I make no effort to apologize.
“I know, I’m sorry. I was just hoping you’d be here.”
Swinging my head to face the direction of the door, I match the voice to the speaker. Steve stands awkwardly in the entryway, eyes trailing over my body as I stand to greet him. His mouth drops open slightly, rubbing a hand over his plump cherry lips. Glancing down, I remember that I’m still only wearing the lingerie and heat floods my body.
“Shit, sorry. One second.”
I awkwardly jog to the back of the store as best I can in the heels strapped to my feet, I’m careful to wrap the long satin robe tightly around myself before making my way back over to Steve. Who stands in the same spot, unmoving. Eyes focused on me as I lean against the counter, arms crossed over my body in an effort to keep the robe covering me.
“So what can I help you with?” I ask, voice shaking every so slightly due to the interaction only moments ago.
“You look incredible in that.”
Although my eyes are firmly fixated on the ground, I smile nervously at his words. Hearing the shuffle of his feet, I look up only to see him standing just a couple of feet away from me. Clad in his sailor uniform once again, I allow myself to gaze over his physique. Thick legs that wear the shorts well, tight in all the right places. Arms defined showing off the muscles he has built. Pulling myself from my thoughts, I round the counter, hoping that the distance between us will ease the ache between my thighs.
“Steve I really should be closing, did you need help with something?”
I notice his eyes fall to his shorts, an impressive tent having formed and I have to hold my breath so as not to drop straight to my knees. Without a word, he slowly reaches across the counter, gently knocking the robe from my shoulders, exposing me to him once again.
“Just tell me to stop and I will.” He speaks quietly, so quiet I almost don’t catch it.
There’s a look of animalistic hunger on his face, one that is new to me. A stark contrast to the boyish smile he usually sports. Within seconds he’s leaning across the counter, capturing his lips with mine, one hand tightly grasping the back of my neck for support, whilst I grip at his shirt. His kiss is fuelled by passion and while it’s rough there’s a feeling of comfort that I can’t describe.
Without thinking, I’m striding back around the counter, pushing him backwards so that he flops down on the couch. Allowing me to take a seat on his lap, his erection firmly pressed in between my thighs, if I weren’t so focused on the moment, I’d most certainly be embarrassed by the wetness that begins to drip down my thighs.
Grinding myself slightly, I tug at his top, pulling it over his head quickly before throwing it behind me. His lips attach to my neck and I can feel him sucking gently, determined to leave a mark. A moan escapes my lips before I can stop myself, sparking a fire in his eyes as he grips my hips, guiding them to roll over his clothed length even harder.
His fingers move with haste as he works at the knot holding the flimsy bralette together, prying it off my body the moment the ties become loose. Grabbing his jaw, I pull his face back to mine, kissing him with burning desire as his hands move to palm my breasts. Our tongues entwine as his fingers brush over my nipple, releasing a soft gasp from me, to which he takes advantage. Dipping his head to suck and bite marks into my chest, I grab his hair tugging softly with every moan that he extracts from my body.
I can hear a groan escape his mouth, to which he covers it up quickly by dragging his tongue over my nipple. His hands playing with the other so as not to focus all his attention solely on one. Steve sucks gently, drawing unholy moan after moan from my body as I continue to feel the heat between our bodies.
Tipping my head back and pushing my breasts further into him, I find myself pushing a hand between our bodies. Slipping under his shorts and offering a short squeeze, causing the man to murmur a soft fuck as he continues to play with my nipples. From feeling his length in my hand, I can tell he’s big, bigger than I anticipated and much bigger than I’ve ever had. It scares me equally as much as it excites me.
It’s only when I begin to start delicately stroking up and down, that he pushes me to the side. Throwing me onto the couch gently so that I am laid on my back with him standing over me. As he smiles down at me, I can’t help but find the contrast between his soft smile and the dominance he has just been displaying amusing. A cheeky grin evident on my face.
“Where’s that knife?” He asks, fingers brushing over my throat as he stares down at me.
“Knife?”
“From the pictures.”
Nodding my head towards the countertop, I watch eagerly as he grabs it, clenching my thighs together as my mind drifts to what he is going to do with it. Much to my surprise, he gently pulls my body up so that I’m sat upright, before settling on his knees between my thighs. Pushing the thong to the side, he presses the blunt side of the knife to my heat, trailing it between my folds. When he removes it, it glimmers with the slick that is now definitely dripping onto the couch.
“Lick it.” He raises the knife to my mouth and I brush my tongue against it as directed, immensely turned on by the entire situation. “You’re such a good girl.”
If his words didn’t make me moan, I do when his tongue makes contact with my clit. Head falling back as I close my eyes, focused only on the pleasure he is giving me. Despite not having my eyes open, I am acutely aware of Steve reaching up to my throat and holding the sharp side of the knife directly on my neck. Pushing it gently, though not so much to draw blood.
“God, you’re such a good girl.”
He switches between sucking and licking my clit, his free hand moving to push two fingers into me ever so slowly. The sounds are inherently sinful, the way he’s lapping up everything I can offer him is downright filthy and yet I feel like I’m in heaven. He devours me as though I’m his last meal, moaning against me, vibrations adding to the already exhilarating pleasure I’m experiencing. God, if this is what he can do with his tongue, there was no reason for him to buy a vibrator.
As he continues to push his fingers into me at an unruly pace, his tongue swirls circles against my clit, pushing me further and further to the edge. My stomach feels tighter and I try to close my thighs, though he reacts by pushing the knife closer to my throat, reminding me of its presence.
“Holy fuck.” I whisper, coil within me snapping and my legs twitching as he continues to lick up anything I have left.
With a pleased grin, he pulls himself away from me, rising to his feet and even in my post orgasm daze, I drop to my knees. Hurriedly pulling his shorts down to his ankles, I grab his erection with both hands. Mouth falling open in shock as I wrap both my hands around him.
“Jesus Christ.” My voice is almost silent yet Steve still hears me, chuckling at my words.
“You gonna be able to handle it?” He asks and I waste no time in nodding, gazing up at him, eyes filled with lust. “Yeah you are.”
In an attempt to calm my nerves, I hesitantly lick from the tip to the base, mouth watering as I hear Steve’s breaths become shakier. Wrapping my lips around the tip, I slowly begin to bob my head up and down, unable to take the whole thing but trying my hardest. I allow myself to coat his member with my spit, using my hands to stroke whatever I can’t fit in my mouth. He bucks his hips involuntarily with a deep guttural moan and I can’t help but gag, eyes watering as he hits the back of my throat.
Pulling back with a gasp for air, I continue to stroke him with one hand, the other reaching for his balls. As I lean in to go for round two with my mouth, he grabs my hair softly, pulling me to look up at him. With mascara streaks running down my and saliva falling from one corner of my mouth, Steve smirks.
“I’d let you do that forever if I wasn’t so desperate to feel you.”
He helps me up, pushing my body over the countertop, before pulling the thong off me completely. I spread my legs for him, allowing him to see the effect he has on me, he circles my clit with one finger as his other hand grips his length. The tip smacking against me as he nervously rubs it over my hole.
“Steve please, I want you so bad.” I beg, feeling myself clenching around nothing as he teases me.
“Fuck you’re perfect.” He cautiously pushes the tip into me, my hands gripping the wood of the countertop at the stretch and I squeal slightly, from a mixture of pleasure and pain. “My perfect girl.”
He continues to push himself inside of me for what feels like an eternity, just when I think I’ve taken him all, he pushes further. I’ll admit it has been a while and with Steve’s size, the stretch burns and yet I want nothing more than to feel him inside of me forever.
The gentleman he is, he stills once completely sheathed within me, awaiting confirmation from me that he is able to move.
“Steve please fuck me now.”
He doesn’t need to be told twice and instantly pulls himself out, almost completely before slamming back into me. Balls slapping against my clit in a way that teases me as he practically rips me in half. One hand pushes on my back, firmly holding me down against the counter as he continues to pound into me. The other grips my hip, knife still in hand though neither of us seem to pay any attention to it.
“Fuck, I’ve wanted to do this since the moment I saw you.” He states between moans, slamming into me at an almost brutal pace.
I’m able to slip one of my hands between the wooden surface and my body, bringing it to the space between my legs and gently teasing my clit, resulting in a string of profanities falling from my lips. Steve notices this and bats my hand away, taking over himself. His fingers are like magic and combined with the way he is ramming himself into me, I can feel myself on the brink of cumming once again.
“Oh my god, Steve I’m so close.”
Upon hearing this, he pulls my body upright, peppering kisses along my shoulders and the nape of my neck as he continues to drill into me at the same rough pace. Within a matter of seconds, I find vision spotting as I fall over the edge. Thighs sticky and wet with the remnants of my second orgasm. Steve allows me to fall back onto the countertop, continuing his assault on my vagina and the overstimulation drives me crazy. I’m a complete moaning mess and by the time he stills with a soft grunt, I have even more tears in my eyes.
“You’re so fucking perfect.” He murmurs, pulling out of me gently and pressing yet another kiss to my neck.
Turning around to face him, he has a lazy fucked out grin on his face and I can’t help but feel proud that I’m the reason for that smile. I smile at the thought, and at the feeling of his cum beginning to spill out of me and down my legs. Steve takes my hands in his and flops back onto the couch, wrapping his arms around me as I rest my head on his chest.
“You know I actually came here hoping I would work up the courage to ask you on a date but this was so much better.” He admits, nuzzling his nose into my hair.
“Wow so I missed out on a date?” I tease, hugging into him even tighter.
“I mean, we can always break into Scoops and go have that date now.” He suggests, voice soft as though he’s afraid I will reject him.
summary: After he's been to yet another failed date with yet another random pretty girl, Steve Harrington, your best friend, stops by at the diner your family owns for a late-night chat, same as he'd done a thousand times before. Steve is totally unaware of how much he's hurting you with his endless parade of dates, because after all — the two of you are only friends and nothing more, right? It's not like you have any secret feelings for him… | 2.6k words
── ࣪˖ ࣪ ⊹ ࣪ ˖ ──
The moment Steve steps through the glass doors of the diner, you wonder, for about the millionth time that month alone, what is it that you've done so wrong to deserve this kind of punishment.
It's Friday night, and on Friday nights, Steve Harrington goes on dates. It's just like clockwork, really: he meets a pretty girl, thinks she's the one, takes her out on a date, realizes quickly enough that she isn't quite what he was looking for, then comes here after having dropped her back home to sulk with you, in the diner that your family runs, still clad in the outfit he'd chosen especially for his failed date.
To be honest, he never looks sad, per se — more like disappointed. Frustrated, maybe.
You watch as he weaves around tables occupied by laughing friends, past booths filled with couples sharing desserts, then slides into a seat in front of you at the bar. Steve sits down with an exhausted sigh, ruffling up his hair before shooting you a tired smile.
"Hi."
You don't look up from where you're polishing the counter. "Bad date again?"
"Not even close. She talked about horses non-stop."
A quiet laugh slips past your lips despite yourself, and finally, you tear your gaze off the dark wooden surface of the counter to look up at him; he's got this pleased little smile on his face, the corners of his eyes crinkled ever so slightly in the way they always do whenever he succeeds at making you laugh, even if just a little.
How are you supposed to keep acting like nothing's wrong when he looks at you like that?
You clear your throat awkwardly and make yourself busy stacking clean glasses next to the coffee machine.
"So...not the one, I take it?"
Steve leans forward against the counter and props his head up with his hand, sighing deeply.
"I'm starting to think she won't ever show up," he says quietly, running his other hand through his hair. You chance another glance at him and note how genuinely worried he looks. It breaks your heart almost as much as it annoys you. "What is it that's wrong with me, huh? I just don't get it."
"Nothing is wrong with you."
"You don't need to be nice to me. We've been friends since forever, remember?"
The word 'friends' makes you wince a little bit inside, but you hide the reaction behind a neutral frown. "Do you think there's something wrong with me? Because I haven't found the one yet either, you know."
Steve's expression softens as he looks at you, and once again you feel that horrible twinge in your stomach that you wish would just stop already.
"It's different. I mean—you're not actively trying to find someone." He reaches out to pull one of the half-melted mints out from the glass bowl on the counter and pops it into his mouth with a shrug. "I go out looking for her and she just doesn't come. If she even exists, that is."
"She does."
"Well, thanks for the vote of confidence, but I wouldn't hold my breath. God, why am I such an idiot, y'know?" Steve slumps over the counter with a groan, burying his face into his crossed arms. "My love life is a trainwreck."
"At least you have one."
He glances up at you curiously and lifts an eyebrow. "What does that mean?"
"Nothing. Forget it. Do you want some pie?"
You're not about to tell him what you've only admitted to yourself mere months ago — that you're actually hopelessly, madly, stupidly in love with him, and that you have been ever since the two of you were just dumb kids racing around your parents' diner.
What makes it even worse is that you had no idea your feelings went that deep until Steve started going on these dates of his again. Before then, everything was normal — you met up every weekend and binged on candy, watched bad movies on your couch, drove around town together blasting The Clash on his BMW's speakers...it was good.
Until it wasn't.
"Wait, c'mon, you can't just leave me hanging like that," Steve presses. He shifts a little on his stool to better face you, then gestures at you with his hands. "You've clearly got something you wanna say, so, like—hit me. Lay it on me."
"Nothing. I'm just saying...at least you're trying, you know," you say carefully, measuring each word before speaking them. "And at least you're the one doing the rejecting. Could be worse."
Steve's eyebrows rise high up on his forehead and he looks at you incredulously. "Whoa, wait—are you trying to tell me you've been rejected?"
You busy yourself by filling two tall glasses with soda, then slide one to his side of the counter and keep the other for yourself. "Uh...kind of, yeah. But it's fine."
"But who the hell would even do that?" he blurts out. There's anger in his voice all of a sudden, a defensive fire in his eyes that makes you feel as if someone has punched you in the gut. "To you? You're like, the nicest person on the planet, and super pretty to boot. That's just—that's crazy!"
Your heart gives a violent little jump in your chest. He thinks you're pretty. Steve Harrington thinks you're pretty.
Pretty as a friend, you correct yourself immediately, and sigh as you sip your drink. Of course, it's nothing more than that — just meaningless words spoken in a moment of unthinking kindness.
"Seriously, who?" he presses on. "Give me a name. I'll fight him."
"You mean like you fought Jonathan Byers?" you smile behind your glass, looking at him from over its rim.
Steve looks embarrassed at the memory and drops his gaze for a second or two before meeting your eyes again with a playful little smile of his own. "Different situation, okay, but that's not the point. So? Who's the guy?"
"You...don't know him," you hedge.
"It's Hawkins. I know the stray cats here by name."
"Fine, well, even if you did know him, it doesn't matter. He didn't reject me, exactly...not really."
Steve frowns a little. "Okay, you're gonna have to start making sense now. This is hurting my head."
The funny thing is, he actually looks confused, as if he can't possibly fathom the idea of someone rejecting you. It's sweet, really — way too sweet for your liking, especially when you know fully well he doesn't see you in the way you'd want him to.
You lower your gaze to avoid his and instead focus on drawing random shapes on the counter with your index finger, where tiny droplets of condensation from your glass have pooled up on the dark wood. "I mean, I never really told him how I felt. Not directly. It just…never happened."
"Oh. Well, then how do you even know if he feels the same way?" he asks you, looking rather doubtful.
You steal another glance at him and almost regret it instantly. His eyes are trained on your face, patient and attentive like you're the only thing worth watching in the world. It makes you feel horribly small and selfish and guilty, because after all, what right do you have to want him when he so clearly wants someone else?
You feel like you could cry. You might, if you don't distract yourself with something fast enough.
"I just know. Do you want some pie? I'll go get you some pie."
Without waiting for a response, you rush off to the kitchen even though there's plenty of pies sitting on the display counter at the bar, and you make a beeline straight for the back exit.
The alley behind the diner is blissfully empty as usual, just a lonely dumpster and a handful of sad-looking shrubs and weeds peeking out from under the concrete.
No, you aren't going to cry.
This is stupid.
You press your back against the rough brick wall of the diner and breathe in deep the warm night air, then exhale slowly as you count to ten in your head.
When the door opens behind you and the diner's familiar chatter and clatter of cutlery spill into the alley, you wince, mentally cursing yourself for being so goddamn weak. You should have known better.
You don't have to look up to know that it's him.
"Are you hiding from me?" Steve's voice comes, quiet and curious and maybe just a little bit hurt, even.
"I got...suddenly nauseous," you explain weakly, still refusing to look up and meet his eyes.
There's a long stretch of silence, and you feel Steve move closer to you until he's leaning against the wall by your side. You finally look up and find him smiling, this gentle, amused little thing that makes your traitorous heart skip a beat.
"You look just fine to me."
You stare up at the sky, head against the wall. "I thought I was gonna throw up."
He's still watching you, you can tell; you're keenly aware of his eyes on you, so much so that your skin prickles at the attention. "No, you didn't."
"No, I didn't," you admit with a sigh, and turn your head to finally look at him. He's got this little half-smile on his lips, the very same one you fell for years ago, and you curse yourself silently for never learning how to let him go. Really let him go.
"Hey. Listen. You don't have to tell me, okay?" Steve says gently, pushing himself off the wall to step closer to you. He brings his hand up to your face and tucks a loose lock of hair behind your ear, letting his fingertips linger on the edge of your jaw for the briefest of moments, just long enough for you to wonder whether he knows what he's doing to you.
You don't dare to move. You're afraid of breaking whatever spell has seemingly come over him.
"I should've never asked. That was selfish."
"Forget it," you say.
He's standing close now, close enough that you have to tilt your chin up to be able to look up at him properly. There's a strange kind of tension in his eyes, something dark and unsure and tentative, and his gaze darts down to your lips just the slightest bit.
You're fairly sure you're just seeing what you want to see, your foolish heart playing tricks on you. But you panic nonetheless, feeling a sudden, irrational fear that if he moves any closer, he'll realize the truth — that you're a liar and a coward, that you've been harboring these feelings of yours for him for years.
"I should—I should go. Back inside," you mutter, pointing vaguely at the door with your thumb. "In there."
"Sure, yeah. Okay. In there," he echoes, not making a single move to leave. "Not out here."
"Yup. Exactly. In there."
"So you said."
"Yep."
The wall of the diner is digging into your spine uncomfortably, and your mouth is dry, and your knees feel weak, and your stomach is doing somersaults, and the longer he stares at you with those eyes of his the more you feel like you're burning from the inside out and—
He's not moving. All he does is look at you, really look at you, as if it's the first time he's really looked, as if he's seeing something that wasn't there before.
"Okay, so—"
You try to push past him towards the door, but Steve grabs your arm, making you stop dead in your tracks. He lets go as soon as you look up at him, lifting his hand in front of him in an apologetic gesture.
"Sorry. I'm sorry," he says. He swallows hard and rubs his palm on the front of his jeans, a nervous little habit you think he's always had. He runs his hand through his hair, mussing up the carefully gelled strands, and it's probably the first time you've ever seen him look so flustered.
He laughs nervously and gestures at the ground with his hands as he speaks. "Look, this is just—this is just crazy, okay, but I think I, uh, maybe sort of realized something."
You blink at him, not quite certain you're hearing him correctly.
"Realized what?" you ask, the words barely more than a whisper.
Steve clears his throat and nods at you, seemingly pleased that you've finally spoken. "Yeah, well, this is stupid, but you know how you're always telling me to listen to my gut?"
"You're not making a whole lot of sense right now, Steve."
"Just bear with me for a sec, okay? This is like, totally new to me." He holds his palms up, and you notice his hands are shaking a little. "I just need a minute, alright?"
He breathes in deep and exhales slowly, then shoots you an apologetic look.
"Sorry, this is just...really weird," he confesses. "Weirdly real."
"You're freaking me out," you tell him, but Steve only smiles at you.
"Maybe I should just show you. Because, I mean, what if I'm wrong? That'd be terrible, obviously."
"Steve."
"Yeah, I know, but hear me out, okay?" he says quickly, and takes another step closer. You stand your ground this time, if only because you don't trust yourself to actually move without your legs giving out. "So, look. Here's the thing. You're, like—you're one of the most important people in my life. You've been there for me when nobody else was, and I...you mean a lot to me."
"Steve—"
"Shut up, you're ruining the moment."
He takes another step forward until he's crowding you against the wall, hand coming to rest next to your head on the brick. He's close, so close that you can smell the scent of his cologne and shampoo and laundry detergent, and if you were to lean in even the slightest bit, your faces would bump.
Steve is a little out of breath, his lips parted ever so slightly. And he's still looking at you with that strange, searching expression of his.
"Is this okay?" he whispers.
"I don't—what?"
Your voice catches in your throat. There's no room for doubt in his eyes now, not even the tiniest, slightest sliver of uncertainty left.
"This," Steve murmurs.
He tilts his head to the side a little and leans in until you're sure your noses are touching, and you feel your eyes slip closed in anticipation.
"Is this okay?" he repeats in a whisper. "Please tell me I'm not crazy."
"I think I am."
His lips brush yours. It feels like an accident, doesn't last long enough to be anything but a dream. You can still taste the faint, sweet trace of sugar and mint on your tongue when he pulls away, though.
"Just to be clear," Steve whispers, his fingers brushing lightly over the skin of your neck, tracing invisible lines that make you shiver, "am I the guy from earlier? The one you like?"
You don't have it in you to deny it anymore.
"Yes. It's you."
A wide grin breaks out across his face, and suddenly he's everywhere; he cups your face in his hands, pressing eager, fervent kisses along the line of your jaw, trailing hot and open-mouthed down the side of your neck.
You giggle helplessly, grabbing Steve by his collar to pull him away from you and up to your eye level. He's breathing just as heavily as you are, his hair messy and his eyes bright.
"How do you do this to me, huh?" he pants, kissing your forehead, the tip of your nose, the corner of your mouth. "You just—you just completely knock me out."
A pleasant little thrill rushes up your spine at that.
a/n: we are just pretending that they had the ability to remotely check their voicemail systems in 1985, okay lovelies? awesome!
tv show/movie: stranger things | pairing: steve harrington x fem!reader
requested by the lovely @echos-scomplink (ily lovely!)
synopsis: steve fears his chance with y/n is ruined leading to breathless proclamations in the rain. based on i was made for loving you by kiss.
taglist: @the-weeping-author | @lilypad-55449 | @popeheywardssecretgf | @smarie7547 | @eichenhouseproperty | @slytherinambitious | @k-k0129 | @ihatepeanutss | @moralina | @poppet05 | @rottenstyx | @boxofsilentwords | @badass-yn | @lexi-2004 |@i-always-come-back-xoxo | @rootbeerfaygo | @savagemickey03 *line through your user means i could not tag you lovelies!
warnings: depictions of being beat up | blood mentioned | fluff
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____
King Steve never believed in the whole soulmate idea. He found it certifiably insane for someone to think that someone was made specifically for one person, it was baffling to him. Not only did the idea of commitment send a shockwave akin to the eight-point-zero magnitude earthquake through his body, but the idea of committing to one person blew his feeble little mind. How could someone become so in love with one person? Was it just that it is actually just socially acceptable to have affairs and simply never talk about it? He didn’t understand it. He couldn’t comprehend the rhotic lacing romance novels and movies. How could someone be so obsessed with someone that they devote their whole life to this one person? How could someone be so obsessed with someone that can be happy spending their whole life around someone? Because, certainly, his parents are not happy spending their whole lives together.
It all fell into place like puzzle pieces in the Summer 1985 when he first laid eyes on Y/N L/N. She worked in the Ladies’ Speciality store on the same floor as Scoops Ahoy. He would see her going to the food court, passing by the Parlour on her way to her shift or leaving for the day. He hadn’t even talked to her and he was infatuated. Not a word was spoken to him from her lips and he was being driven mad by the thought. It wasn’t until Y/N came in to get some ice cream with Robin (the two forming a friendship from working so close together) on her day off before they headed to the community pool that he spoke his first words to her.
From there, he was entranced. It all made sense to him. Every poem ever written about the obsession of love. Every line of literature that oozed with the sense of pining. He knew that he was made solely for her. To love her. To hold her. To simply be with her. It was his higher purpose. His calling. He was simply there to be hers. Despite his fumbling attempts at talking to her, Y/N found his dorkiness endearing enough to take a chance on him by making the first move - asking him to call her.
Unfortunately, that’s as far as Steve got before getting trapped in a storage room and plummeting into a Russian Underground Base. Her phone number in his passenger seat and the suggestive words of a date hanging in the air of his car from where she uttered them two nights ago. If he hadn’t been trapped and, consequently, kidnapped by Russians, there would be no way in hell Y/N would be at the Fourth of July party with some jock who didn’t even know her favourite ice cream flavour.
“I’m sorry,” Steve blinked, a dumb look on his face as he looked at Robin. Robin cocked her head to the side with a roll of her eyes, waiting for Steve to speak as she still held the payphone receiver in the air. “I must have heard you wrong,” He continued, speaking with a chuckle, hoping she was wrong. “‘Cause it sounded like you said that Y/N left you a voicemail saying she was going out on a date tonight-”
“It’s ‘cause of the giant flesh spider running rampant through Hawkins, isn’t it?” Dustin nodded as if he understood why Steve was so pale after hearing this news. Baffled, Steve and Robin both looked at him as he stood there, sweat staining through his graphic shirt.
Opening and closing his mouth like a fish, Steve shot a panicked look between Dustin and Robin. The three of them were off to the side, away from the rest of the scheming groups as Robin checked her voicemail, hoping to hear anything from Y/N to make sure she was okay. “No,” Steve nearly yelled, his voice impossibly high. “Well, now I’m worried about that.”
Robin, finally hanging up the phone, sighed. “She said he was taking her to the carnival,” Dread filled Steve. Obviously, Robin noticed since she continued on. “According to Hopper and Joyce, the carnival was untouched by the giant flesh spider-” She gave Dustin a pointed look for wording it that way. “And if this flesh spider is looking for this El girl, Y/N should be safe.”
“Again, not what I’m worried about,” Steve stressed, a hand coming up to run through his matted and grimy hair. Blood, sweat, and product weighed his normally fluffy hair down. “I’m more concerned about the fact that she’s out on a date with another guy because I was just trapped in a Russian Base for like three days!”
Dustin scoffed, causing Steve’s eyes to point angrily at him. “Calm down, Drama Queen. It was like 48 hours,” Dustin looked between Steve and Robin, shrinking slightly as he took in the context of the situation. “Which clearly felt like three days and jeopardised Steve’s chances with Y/N. I can clearly see that now.”
Silence enclosed around the three as they stood there. Robin ran the voicemail over in her head, trying to decipher how her new friend felt about this date knowing her feelings for the floppy haired new graduate that currently stood across from her. Dustin, trying to gauge the situation, looked between Robin and Steve before slowly starting to back up in an attempt to remove himself.
Steve. Steve was a ball of anxiety. So much so that this made Robin realise that Steve had actually changed. King Steve wouldn’t have cared. King Steve would have just shrugged it off and went off to find his new conquest. She could actually see the doubts and insecurities bubbling to the surface of his mind. “Wow. Nancy Wheeler ruined you, didn’t she?” Robin whispered, but she wasn’t one-hundred percent sure that the words met Steve’s ears. His mind seemed to be screaming too loud for him to hear anything else.
“I should’ve just manned up and asked her out,” Steve was beating himself up. Literally. Robin watched, a look of pure shock and bafflement on her freckled face, as he beat a closed fist into an opened hand. Just enough for his already swollen, bruised, and cut face to wince but not enough for it to attract anyone’s attention. “Now, she’s probably having the time of her life with this quarterback who will get a full ride to the University of Alabama or something-” He muttered to himself, the punches continuing, concerning Robin slightly.
“Woah, woah, woah,” Robin’s voice cracked slightly as she lunged forward. Gently, her hands grasped Steve’s wrists, keeping him from hitting his hand again. Steve, eyes watering in sheer insecurity, looked at her. Her heart broke for both her new found friends. She knew Y/N wasn’t having the time of her life. A, she hated stereotypical jocks and, if memory serves Robin right, this guy was the quintessential quarterback. B, she wasn’t with Steve - her long-standing crush. Something she admitted to Robin drunkenly. “Go to her.”
“What?” Steve’s voice was wobbly. It was soft.
“Go to her, Steve. You remember where she lives, you dropped her off that one time when her car wouldn’t start,” She started to explain. “Go to her, tell her how you feel. Lay it all at her feet.”
“W-what about everyone else?” He stammered, wide eyes looking towards the cluster of people. Robin waved her hand dismissively, making him look back at her. Her blue eyes were so confident and sure. They were compelling him to listen to her. Confirming that everything will be okay if he just listened to her.
They stared at each other, locked in a kind of communication only people destined to be best friends could achieve. “We can survive. We will survive.” She urged him despite the fact that she didn’t believe those words one bit. Swallowing thickly, Steve slowly nodded. Brown eyes casting over the cluster of people. Some he fought side-by-side with for the past two years, some who just joined the battle. They were all probably more capable than Steve at everything. At least, that’s what he tells himself.
Squaring his shoulders, he stood to his full height. “I’m going,” He spoke with a firm nod. The kind of nod that sealed some of the best and worst plans in history. “I’m going to her.” Just as the rubber sole of his converse slapped the pristine tile as he started to move towards the exit, unsure of how he’s going to get to Y/N’s place with no car, Hopper’s sharp whistle of his lips stopped him.
Seeing a Walkie-Talkie flying through the air, landing right in the scrambling hands of a nervous Dustin, disappointment and dread filled him. He wasn’t going to be able to slip away that easily. He barely listened as Hopper, Dustin, and Erica bickered about how it was best for them to communicate, hoping that whatever the solution was could spare him. His body buzzed with the need to tell Y/N everything. The need to bare his soul to her. The need to be near her - nay. To be hers.
The jingle of keys brought him from his locked in zone, letting him catch the keys Hopper was throwing him in time. “Steve’s in charge.” Those words weighted Steve’s soul down to the depths of the bowls of Hell for he knew this night was far from over.
“Come on,” Steve gruffed, his drive zeroing in. His sole focus was simply on beating this shit for another time and getting to Y/N as fast as he could. “Let’s kill these bastards.”
____
By the time it all fell silent again, rain was pelting down. Once the paramedic’s gave Steve the okay to leave and the firefighters were able to retrieve one of his keys from the Scoops backroom (thank god for cold rooms), he didn’t waste any time speeding off. He knew he should probably change his clothes from something that bore his blood, sweat, and tears, but he simply couldn’t waste another moment. That’s how, after a bout of reckless driving and a few near-misses, Steve was parking on the street, peering into the darkened driveway of Y/N L/N’s house.
A moment of hesitation fluttered through him. One thought was about the possibility of her not being home. The other one being the very likely possibility of her being asleep given the late hour. Another thought was about her parents not appreciating a beaten and bloody person professing their love for their daughter. However, a warm glow emitting from an upstairs window and her car being the only one parked in the driveway reassured him enough for him to muster the courage back up to get out of the car.
“You just survived two days in a Russian base and an interdimensional creature made of human flesh. You can do this.” He breathed, pumping himself up. Shaking his limbs out, his eyes zeroed in on the front door of her house. Just like a magnet, his body started to be pulled towards her, almost as if it were sure that it was meant to be around her. With a determination greater than the determination he felt to get out of the Russian base, he started to move quicker up her driveway until he was practically running up the rather long driveway, rain pelting his shirt and hair.
Standing there, his chest heaved as his back tingled with a mix of excitement and nerves. Before his consciousness could catch up, his finger was jabbing the doorbell repeatedly - much to his own horror. Despite not wanting to continuously ring the doorbell, his finger couldn’t seem to leave it alone until she pulled the door open. It was like his eyes were desperate to see her and his body was doing everything in its power to do just that.
“I’m coming, I’m coming.” Even with the muffled voice barely making it through the wooden front door and the sound of socked feet rushing down the stairs, his finger never ceased to stop pushing the doorbell. Part of him hoped that if the Jock did accompany her back to her place, his incessant doorbell ringing was annoying him. The large majority of him, however, was mortified that he couldn’t seem to stop ringing the damn doorbell. Suddenly, the door was pulled open, the burst of air from the movement making her hair wisp back from her face perfectly and Steve was stunned into a stupor, finger pressing on the button.
“Steve,” A look of shock crossed her face before it deepened once she caught the sight of his face in the glow of the entryway light. “Oh, my god, Steve!” She breathed out, concern lacing her voice as her hand came up to delicately cover her mouth as she took in his nearly swollen shut eye.
He couldn’t muster up any words. Hell, he couldn’t even take his finger off the doorbell. Hesitantly, Y/N reached out. He wasn’t sure if she was scared of him or scared to hurt him, but once her slightly cold fingers met the wet skin of his wrist, he blinked out of the trace he had been lulled into. “I needed to come see you,” His voice was much more hoarse than what it had been earlier. His throat was dry from the lack of water, but his body was becoming more and more exhausted as the seconds ticked by, but he felt energy shooting through him now that he stood in her presence. “Robin told me about your date with the Jock tonight and I couldn’t lose you just because I was kidnapped by Russians for two days.”
“You were what,” Y/N blinked, expression dropping from shocked to horrified. “Steve! You need to go to the hospital or the police station! Not to my house! This is serious-” She started fretting, her hands coming up, looking like they were going to lay on his face. His skin tingled in anticipation of her touch on him and his chest heaved as he tried to control his breathing, his eyes darkening, but her hands stilled halfway there. “Does it hurt?” She breathed, hands slightly shaking as her own adrenaline coursed through her.
Steve, with another surge of confidence, reached his own hands out to grab her wrists gently. Suddenly, as his fingers wrapped around the softness of her skin, he was all too aware that he hadn’t had a shower in two days and probably smelled horrible. On top of it, he was very much aware of the level of grime on his skin. But Y/N didn’t seem to care as her wrists seemed to sink into his hands, relief washing over her at the feel of his touch. “I’m fine. I got checked over by the paramedics, the Feds were there. I am fine,” He reassured her, noting the worry that still swam within the depths of her eyes. “But I needed to come see you. I would have ran here the second I escaped, but I was stopped.”
“Probably the paramedics stopped you because you were kidnapped, Steve,” She blinked and in a split second, guilt consumed him for not being able to tell her more. He was sure he would eventually tell her everything, but he didn’t want to scare her off. “But why did you need to see me so badly, you must be exhausted.” She furrowed her eyebrows, eyes flicking over his face.
“I needed to tell you how I feel, Y/N. Hearing that you were out with the Jock tonight, I-” He cut himself off, his throat swelling with emotion. “I couldn’t lose you. I couldn’t lose the person I was made for,” His words were like drops of blood dripping from his bleeding heart. “I can’t get enough of you, Y/N. I need to be around you and I’ve never understood the concept of soulmates until I saw you,” Shock crashed against Y/N like a tidal wave. Staring at the beaten and bruised boy, she could only manage to blink her eyes slowly as his words bleed with passion. “Y/N, there is no doubt in my mind that I was made solely to love you.”
Those words hung in the air like an anvil ready to squash Steve as his eyes burned into her shell-shocked ones. Her mouth hung open slightly as he could see her brain processing the words her ears just heard. Suddenly, she snapped back to reality, her jaw softly closing as she stood up, eyes as soft as a plush bed - making Steve want to lay within them for the rest of his life. “Oh Steve,” She breathed out, seemingly overwhelmed with the proclamation. Steve’s heart lurched, the anvil dropping an inch. An equally as soft smile as her eyes graced her lips, but it did little to ease Steve’s anxiety. “I thought you were never going to make a move. I thought you didn’t like me like that-”
Her words were cut off as Steve grabbed her face in his blood stained and, truthfully, grimy hands. In one motion, his lips nearly jumped on hers, kicking off a feverish kiss. His lips moved against her stunned ones as if she were the water he was so deprived of for two days. As if she were the thing he was derived from for so long. As if she were the air he needed in order to live.
He could feel the gentle touch of her fingertips ever so lightly touching his forearms as her lips seemed to match his speed, her body coming to life after falling into the shock of the sudden kiss. Goosebumps marked the trail of her fingertips as they made their way up to his hands. Soon, the warmth of her hands rested over his, just sitting there. Almost as if she was using them to tell if this was real or just a dream. Steve was worried about the same thing but the coldness of the pouring rain hitting his back as the wind blew it under the cover of her porch told him it was all reality.
Their lungs ached, Steve’s bruised ribs pulsed from his lungs beating against them, begging for air, not realising the lips he was attached to were (in fact) his air. Their chests swelled with warmth, both from their hearts becoming electrified with love and from the burning of their chests screaming from the lack of air. Lips became feverish in desperation as they both realised that, soon, they would have to pull away. Steve hated himself as he reluctantly pulled his lips back ever so slightly, just enough for both of them to suck in air, chests heaving - panting as if they had just ran a marathon.
Neither of them opened their eyes, feeling the laboured puffs of breath against their swollen lips as shockwaves of tingles shot through their bodies as if they were still kissing. “Nope,” Steve shook his head. “Not enough yet.” Y/N’s eyes fluttered open out of an act of confusion just in time for Steve’s lips to pounce back onto hers, this time her feet stumbling back from the force, his body crashing flush against hers. A squeak left her lips as she felt like she was going to fall backwards but his hands immediately left her cheeks, flying to her waist to pull her against him even more.
“Steve-” She pulled her mouth back slightly, words muffled by his lips still, but the risk of biting either of their tongues lowered, but he shushed her, ready to let his lungs explode if that meant he could keep kissing her. “Steve-” She tried again with a giggle, hands coming up to his chest to hold him back slightly. Finally opening their eyes, Y/N was stunned for a moment as she saw Steve. His lip now swollen, the cut on his lip re-opened and bleeding slightly. His eyes (or the eye that wasn’t swollen shut) nearly blown out as if he were high. Regaining her thoughts, she cocked her head to the side, eyes softening from the heated pools they were seconds ago. “Do you need a place to stay tonight?” She asked, having only caught enough information about his home life to know his parents were barely around and when they were, they barely met the standards of parents, let alone supportive and kind parents.
Suddenly, and if Steve wasn’t already sure, he knew he had finally found the place in the world he was looking for. He found the purpose of his life. He found the thing he would live and breathe. He found the thing he would even die for. “Actually, yeah.” He said almost sheepishly, realising his house key was on the set of keys the Russians took from him and his parents were away (shockingly). He felt scared, worried that she would think he came here and professed false feelings just so that he could have a place to sleep for the night.
His worries were eased with that soft smile slipping upon her swollen lips as she stepped back, Steve’s hands reluctantly letting go of her waist. “Come on in. I’ll even let you shower and sleep in my bed.” She winked, a giggle gracing the dimly lit entryway as she backed up, Steve following immediately - almost like she was luring him into a trance like state just with her beauty. In that moment, he knew he would never get enough of her and he will live everyday trying to give his everything to her.
Eshay Baby. (Anthony Vaughn x Chook's Sister Reader)
Word Count: 5.8K
Y/N Cooper and Anthony Vaughn had a complicated relationship, which becomes even more complex following the reveal of the incest map.
WARNING: This work is not intended for those under the age of eighteen as it does have mature content. This story deals with alcohol, sexual content, drugs, explicit language, violence, death and triggering topics such as sexual assault and abuse.
A/N: I really hope you enjoy this fic as much as I do, I am a sucker for an ex's to lovers trope! This will be an ongoing series with each chapter correlating to a different episode! Love you! x
Fuck you Monday.
I am not a bad person. At least, I don’t believe I am. Research suggests that people become products of their environments, in fact, there’s an entire theory surrounding the self-fulfilling prophecy which suggests that if environmental factors such as the people and community surrounding you believe you will turn out a certain way, you will. It’s something to do with the phrase ‘if that’s what people think I am, then that’s what I will be.’ For as long as I’ve been alive, I have done my best to combat this. Not wanting to prove the countless social workers, mental health professionals, teachers and police correct. I am a good person.
My brother on the other hand, that’s slightly more complicated. He’s four years older than me, he understands and remembers more of our childhood than I do. It’s not something that we often talk about, him opting to avoid the subject entirely not wanting to reminisce on the past. His words not mine. I don’t blame him for this, nothing I can remember is positive. Being passed from one distant relative to the next, each being significantly worse than the last. Until one day we ended up at the home. I can only imagine what other horrors he may remember.
Hence why I stated it’s complicated, everything he does, he does for us. That’s the way it’s always been. Not once has he failed to protect me, agreeing to be my legal guardian the moment he turned eighteen in order to remove me from the clutches of any government mandated home. I’ll forever be grateful to him for that, and so I could never argue that he isn’t a selfless man. Not when it comes to family.
Others may disagree with me, believing he is cruel, callous and cold. Inherently evil is a term that has been used to describe him many times before. I’ll be the first to admit that there are times when I don’t agree with his actions. However, I don’t believe this defines him as a person. People are so complex and have many different layers that somebody cannot be defined by one small thing. So would I say he’s a good person? No, but I also wouldn’t say he’s a bad person. He’s just different.
“Your brother said to tell you he’s setting off in ten minutes so to make sure you’re ready.”
The soft voice at my doorway startles me, too focused on applying my lipgloss to notice the boy standing in the doorway. As I glance up at him through my mirror, I’m hit by the unmistakable stench of marijuana that seems to flood the room. My nose scrunches, slightly disgusted by the thought of my brother and his friends getting high in the living room at eight am on a monday morning. Continuing to apply multiple layers of the shimmery pink gloss, I notice the figure is still standing in my doorway, his back turned to me, stance appearing almost awkward as he scratches the back of his head nervously.
“Cash you can come in.”
He turns to face me, hesitantly stepping through the threshold into my bedroom with a small smile on his face. Closing the old wooden door behind him, only to almost be knocked out by the numerous bags I have hung up on the back of my door.
“That’s a lot of bags.” He comments, resulting in a small laugh from me due to him stating the obvious.
Beginning to gather my textbooks, notebooks and any other supplies I may need for school, I notice Cash standing silently simply observing my bedroom. It’s a stark contrast to the rest of the house. Walls painted a burnt amber with photos and posters plastered up anywhere I could reach. Crocheted blankets are thrown over every piece of furniture in the room and my window stays wide open, allowing the bright morning light to flood the room, the gentle breeze blowing just enough to allow a melodic hum to reverberate through my wind chime.
“Your bedroom is nice. It’s homely.” Cash tells me, waiting patiently as I continue to throw things into my bag.
“Not a chance in hell was I letting Chook decorate my bedroom with graffiti.” I laugh, throwing my chunky black cardigan over my shoulders before the eshay opens the door for me, being the gentleman that he is and allowing me to exit first. “There’s another spray paint to cover a skatepark in here as it is.”
My finger traces one of the many swirls of blue spray paint that lines the hallway as I speak, eliciting a chuckle from the boy that follows behind me. Entering the lounge, I find Jayden and Tilla sprawled out on the sofa, eyes glazed over and it’s clear that they’re both stoned out of their minds. Chook sits on the armchair that he’s claimed as his own, nobody else dares to sit there, knowing it’s his seat. He’s playing with the car keys in his hands, eyes fixed on the unconscious man laid out at his feet. Occasionally nudging him with his foot in an attempt to humor himself.
“Who’s that?” I question, capturing my brother’s attention for the first time since we set foot in the lounge.
“Fuck knows brah, couldn’t handle his drinks though clearly.”
With one last surprisingly gentle kick to the stomach, Chook rises from the chair. Ruffling my hair as he strolls past me and towards the front door, much to my annoyance. I sigh quietly, swiftly smoothing my hair down, to which Cash does his best to muffle his laugh as we follow my brother out the door. Stepping over yet another unconscious man as we leave the house.
Hartley High is only a twenty minute drive, most of which I spend in silence, trying my best to enjoy the drum and bass that erupts out of the speakers as we fly down the streets of Sydney. Chook was never one for following the speed limit, no matter how many times I lectured him on the importance of driving safely.
We pull into the car park outside of school with an ear piercing screech, slamming to a halt directly outside the gates, the unnecessary amount of noise causes many students to look in our direction. Many whispering to their friends as they gawk at us, I do my best to keep my head down as I clamber out of the vehicle. Embarrassed by the commotion Chook has caused.
“Don’t get expelled!” Chook yells out of the car window as Cash and I trudge reluctantly towards the quad. Not wanting to dignify him with a response, I simply throw my middle finger up behind me, hearing his raucous laughter followed by the screech of his tires on the asphalt once again.
“You reckon this year will be any better?” Cash inquires, knuckles white due to how tight he is clenching the strap of his fanny pack that is thrown over his shoulder. He’s nervous. Contrary to what people believe, Cash is a sweet boy. He’s so loving, caring, considerate and kind, he has a lot to offer the world we live in. Nobody seems to see this though. Believing Cash is a good for nothing eshay that will make nothing of himself upon leaving school, most likely following in the footsteps of his mother and ending up in prison. Even he himself believes this.
“I don’t know mate, maybe for you, I mean you technically don’t even need to be here. I don’t have a choice unfortunately.”
“Yeah but that just means you’re stuck with me for another year kiddo.”
“I am literally a year younger than you.” I sulk, giving him a gentle shove in order to express my annoyance. “Besides, you wouldn’t have screwed me if you saw me as a kid.”
Cash stops in his tracks completely, I smirk, pleased that I’ve rendered him completely speechless and offer him a quick wink from over my shoulder as he jogs to catch up to me. We agreed to never speak of it. A one night hook up when we were both heavily under the influence of certain illegal substances. My heart was in pieces following the breakdown of mine and a particular church going brunette’s secret relationship. If you could even call it a relationship, we never exactly labeled anything, nor made anything public. However, it felt as though my heart had shattered, I’d never experienced anything like that before. Not even the pain of my childhood compared to this.
One thing led to another and Cash and I were stumbling into bed together. Both of us knew it was wrong, Chook would kill Cash if he ever found out. Fortunately it only happened once and while I wouldn’t say that I regret it, it did definitely put a strain on our friendship for a while. Mostly due to him being terrified of me telling my brother.
Remembering the memory, I can’t help but smile to myself. Even if it was just for that one night, Cash made me feel whole again. Like I was worthy of finding love. The dopamine from the positive recollection seems to crash like a wave over my body, uplifting my mood drastically despite heading into what is ultimately prison for the next seven hours. That is until I catch a glimpse of the one person I was hoping to avoid completely for the next year.
Anthony Vaughn.
“Oi there’s a fully gacked sex map in the old stairwell.” Shouts from the redheaded girl catch my attention and I’m grateful to be provided a distraction. “It’s called the incest map!”
Students from all directions flock together in a sprint towards the old stairwell. The scene could be described as something out of a nature documentary when a pack of wild animals chase after their prey together. It’s wild and chaotic, completely undignified. So, with a quick glance at one another, Cash and I also follow the crowd, taking off in a run to identify what a ‘sex map’ truly is, and why it is so interesting that the entirety of our school is racing at full speed just to catch a glimpse.
I thank my lucky stars that I’m not claustrophobic when I eventually manage to squeeze my way through the horde of students. Names are scrawled in huge letters across the wall, each with different lines and symbols linking one to another. There’s a key chart to the left hand side and it’s safe to say nobody’s sexual endeavours were safe due to how graphic the key chart was.
The usual suspects are on the map, those who aren’t quiet about their partaking in hookup culture, such as Darren and Dusty. Those in relationships are also unsurprising, for example Missy and Sasha are of course linked, having only just recently broken up. Other names however do manage to shock me, for one I was not expecting to see Quinni’s name on the map, nor was I expecting Cash.
Following the three lines connected to his name, it’s only then that I realize in bright red letters accompanied by a pair of devil horns, is my name.
With each passing second it feels like my heart has stopped, secrets revealed to the world that were supposed to never see the light of day. How did anybody know about this? Sure, Spider may have blabbed about me giving him a blowjob, most likely bragging to his two best mates about it as though I’m his latest conquest. However, what happened between Cash and I, as well as Ant and I was meant to be kept quiet.
With trembling hands, I begin to anxiously scan the room, looking for any sign that somebody other than myself may have noticed my name. Catching the eye of the brunette, who stands timidly between Dusty and Spider, I discern that he is just as concerned as I am. Fearful of the consequences of this coming out.
“Yo Ant, you fucked the eshay’s sister? Nice one bro.” Dusty shouts, clapping his friend on the back which only leads to the red blush on his face to creep to an even deeper crimson.
“You got further with her than I ever did.” Spider comments, a mischievous smirk spread across his lips. “Why didn’t you tell us?”
Ant simply lowers his head, eyes focusing on his shoes which appear to be a lot more interesting than the map in front of him. I can’t lie and say it doesn’t hurt that he won’t speak about us, but at the same time, I understand. With mates like his, I would want to keep things hidden from them too, especially if this is how they react. Not to mention his overly religious family upbringing and the overwhelming amount of shame he is afraid of bringing on his family.
“Hey, you okay?” Cash whispers, hand faintly grazing mine in a subtle attempt to offer his support.
“I was just about to ask you the same thing.” Offering the mullet wearing boy a forced smile, trying to cover up the embarrassment of suddenly being the center of attention.
Continuing to stare at the map in disbelief, only the shouts of rowdy teenagers can be heard as they find more and more connections on the map that they hadn’t seen upon their first inspection. A few even run out in tears, the map ruining many people’s relationships, outing people and just causing pure humiliation for everybody that has their name scribbled across the wall.
“Hey, do you reckon if we ask real nice, Y/N will let us double dick her?” Spider asks Ant obnoxiously loud, nudging him as they both look over in my direction. Humorless expression evident on my face. “What, we’ve both already been there.”
Spider’s comment is directed to me, with him and Dusty both finding the utmost amusement in the entire situation. Ant, on the other hand, looks as though he wants the floor to swallow him whole, unable to make eye contact with me.
“Are you sure you’d be able to get it up? You and I both know how difficult it was for you last time and that was just for a blowie.”
Without giving Spider a chance to respond, I’m pushing through the sea of teenagers, who are now staring eagle eyed between the blonde boy and myself. Invested in the very minor argument between us, a chorus of laughter can be heard at Spider’s expense. Even Dusty seems to take amusement in the mortification of his friend.
As I brush past the trio, it’s hard to ignore the self-consciousness on their leader’s face. I can’t help but feel a small sense of pride, knowing that my comment really got under his skin. Eyes trailing over each of the guys, I notice that Ant is already looking at me, a regretful look on his face.
Unlike his two mates, Ant has always been the more caring of the three. Whilst still partaking, somewhat reluctantly, in the shenanigans that the other boys rope him into, he has always had more of a guilty consciousness. Often disclosing the amount of regret and guilt he felt due to some of their actions. Though, he made me swear that information to secrecy, not wanting the boys to view him as weaker. It’s one thing we regularly argued about, with him being unable to fathom the idea that having morals and a consciousness doesn’t make you any less of a man.
The deafening shrill of the school bell sounds whilst I stomp across the quad, alerting me of the fact that I should be headed towards the gym for the mandatory back to school assembly. Yet, I can’t bring myself to face it. Wanting to avoid Spider for a little while longer while I can in the hopes of steering clear of another confrontation. Half an hour into the new school year and I’m already wagging, what a great start.
Without turning to look back, I can hear the shuffle of feet as everybody begins to pile out of the old stairwell. Heading into the main school building, still, I tread on. Doing my best to sneak behind the science block and finding solace in the old dunnies that were closed off to students back in the nineties. Technically, nobody is supposed to be back here, I’m risking detention just by being here, though Cash and I continue to use it as a safe space to hide from the world whenever we need peace.
Rummaging through my bag, I’m quick to find the box of Marlboro Gold’s that I always keep stashed at the bottom, just on the odd occasion that I do feel the urge to smoke. It used to be a rare occurrence, these days, unfortunately it seems to be more of a recurring problem. I’ve hidden the habit from just about everyone in my life, not that Chook would care, he’s done far worse that I ever have. I just don't want people to perceive me as any less that they do now, I know smoking is a dirty horrible habit and yet I can’t seem to quit. So, as I spark my lighter, inhaling the toxic fumes, I begin to take comfort in the calm that fills my body from the lungs outward.
“Shit, sorry, I didn’t think anyone was gonna be in here.”
My eyes sweep up from the ground, and if the baggy jeans and tie dyed jumper weren’t enough of a give away as to who stood before me the cross chain hanging from his neck certainly did. It’s the first time he’s actually spoken to me directly since the night everything came crumbling down eight weeks ago. When my eyes lock with his, I can’t help but take in his beauty as if it’s the first time I’ve ever seen him and before I can react the cigarette is falling out of my fingers.
“I didn’t know you smoked.”
He points to the ciggie that is now beginning to burn out on the concrete floor. With an awkward laugh, I quickly pick it up, stubbing it out on the wall, humiliated that he caught me.
“I don’t really,” Playing with the ends of my hair as I desperately try to think of an excuse that doesn’t truly reveal the extent of my habit.
“Just needed to destress after this morning.”
“Yeah, crazy morning, right?” Ant asks, leaning against the doorframe as he attempts to make small talk with me. “Actually, do you have another one of those?”
With raised eyebrows I nod swiftly, pulling the pack out of my bag and offering them to him along with my lighter. He lights his and I do the same, after all I didn’t exactly get to finish the first one on account of dropping it on the ground.
“You wagging assembly too?”
My voice is quiet, unsure on whether he actually wants me to make conversation with him or he’d prefer to sit in silence. Despite my best attempts to not make it obvious, I watch as he takes a drag from the ciggie, allowing the smoke to delicately fall from his lips. It’s awkward not knowing where I stand with him, sure, what happened was a while ago now and I’d assumed we’d both moved on but that doesn’t make the entire situation any less awkward.
“Couldn’t face it, Spider and Dusty wouldn’t stop hounding me for all the details and I just needed some space.” Ant admits, picking at the skin around his fingers between drags.
“Oh right, I can leave if you want some space, I don’t mind.”
Grabbing my bag and hauling myself off the window ledge, I throw the end of my ciggie to the ground, ready to leave. That is until his hand grabs mine gently, his touch soft as I’m forced to stop and look at him.
“No, stay. You should stay.”
Ant offers me a small smile before letting go of my hand, the touch so fleeting and yet it still manages to make my heart flutter even just the tiniest bit. Sitting beside him on the cold, mucky floor, not minding the dirt if it means that Ant and I are one step closer to mending our friendship. Truthfully, I miss him. I miss him as a friend more so than anything. Our bond was one that you don’t find much in life, one that others struggle to comprehend.
“I owe you an apology.” His words catch me off guard, unaware that he felt the need to apologize to me, let alone, doing so on the first day back at school. Granted it hasn’t been any ordinary first day back. “I was a complete dickhead to you and you didn’t deserve it-”
“Ant you don’t need to explain yourself.”
“Nah, I do. I think I knew I couldn’t be the guy you deserved, and I got scared. It’s no excuse, I know that. Just believe me, I didn’t mean any of the stuff I said to you that night, I was so pissed, honestly, I hardly remember any of it. All I know is I woke up with the worst hangover of my life and you weren’t there.” He stops for a moment, collecting his thoughts with furrowed eyebrows, trying his best to put what he wants to say into words. “You weren’t there and then I saw the messages. Y/N, I’m so sorry. I didn’t ever want to hurt you.”
He’s staring at me intently, eyes trying to find any glimmer of emotion on my face in an attempt to determine what I’m thinking. Opening my mouth to respond, I find myself rendered completely speechless. As I focus on Ant, I can see the worry in his eyes. Uneasy as to what I may have to say.
“Shit, sorry, I’m no good with words, I-”
“Stop talking Ant.” I mumble, putting an end to his rant before he can even properly begin. “Cheers for the apology, it means a lot.”
“Do you hate me?” The question is blurted out before he can stop himself. Shocking even himself judging by the way his widened followed by his head falling to his hands.
“I could never hate you. You should know that.” I tell him, his whole body instantly less tense as the relief floods through him. “I’ve actually really missed my friend. We should’ve never complicated things.”
I almost miss it, but there’s a flash of pain in the browns of his eyes as I say those last words, though he nods in agreement. The silence that follows is no longer awkward, instead it’s tranquil. Plainly embracing the warmth of the early morning sun in one another’s presence feels relaxing compared to the events that unfolded prior. Blissfully enjoying the reblossoming of our once torn apart friendship.
“If it isn’t Anthony Vaughn and Y/N Y/LN. You’ve not even been back a day and you’re already wagging.” Ms Woods’ tone is extremely unimpressed as she addresses us, evidently not happy that we’re getting into trouble this quickly. Ant and I can’t help but hold in matching mischievous grins. “My office now!”
—----------------------------------------------------------------------------
“So what were you and Ant doing in the dunnies together?” Cash mumbles the minute my brother is out of earshot and inside Harry’s diner, no doubt trying to chat up all the girls who are trying to eat their chippies in peace.
Slapping him straight in the chest, my eyes flicker towards the door of the diner, wary that Chook will pop out at any second and overhear our conversation. He feigns annoyance, dramatically throwing his hand up to his chest, acting as if I’ve just shot him.
“Oh my god, nothing!”
“I saw your names on the map Y/N, can you blame me for thinking you were trying to cop a root?”
“Shut the fuck up! Nothing happened okay?” I whisper as aggressively as I can, playing with the hem of my pinstripe mini dress in the hopes that I can distract myself from this conversation.
“I dunno, Amerie seemed to think you two were destined.”
“Who’s destined?”
Chook’s voice alarms me, head snapping up to spot the slightly older, male version of myself walking only mere feet away from Cash and I. His casual demeanor suggests he hasn’t overheard the rest of our conversation for which I’m thankful. Locking eyes with Cash, I shake my head in the subtlest way possible so he knows not to say a word. If Chook found out about the map, not only would I be dead, but Cash as well, so it’s in the best interest of both of us not to open our mouths about yesterday’s events.
“Spider and his imaginary girlfriend. That boy is gonna be in a serious relationship with his hand for the foreseeable future.” The lie slips off my tongue so easily that it’s rather concerning. Chook doesn’t question me, though why would he? I learned from the best.
“Sure. You prepared for the cemetery tonight kid?” Chook asks Cash, not even bothering to look up at him as he stashes the boot of the car with countless amounts of junk food he had just collected from Harry’s. “Thank god you stayed at school for another year, since this little bitch didn’t wanna take over as our connect.”
“My bad that I didn’t wanna be running around, pushing drugs for you for the rest of my school life.” I argue, Chook pulling faces as I speak in response. Deciding that this is an argument not worth having today, after all, it’s one we’ve had many times before.
“Yeah, all good brah.” Cash chimes in, answering Chook’s question to put an end to our petty argument before we can take it even further. Before we can get physically violent, even if it is only in a playful manner.
“You two best get going hey, maximize profit and all that.”
Cash doesn’t need any further instruction, hopping on his motorbike after passing me his fanny pack to store in the bag on the back. Something he always does in order to ensure that all his supply is kept perfectly safe while he drives. I’d consider it smart if I didn’t know it was drugs he was keeping safe. Chook jumps in his car, nodding in our direction as he flies out of the car park with Jayden and Tilla shouting out of the window at us. I can’t help but smile at their antics.
Cash offers me a hand on to the back of his bike, hiking my tiny dress up even further so that I can throw my leg over the vehicle. Wrapping my arms around his waist tightly, he watches in his mirror for me to nod before taking off. A habit he picked up when he first began to drive me around on what I like to call his ‘death trap’.
Dance music is belting from the many speakers when we arrive at the cemetery, a fire pit glowing in the middle of the makeshift dance floor as people crowd around it. The sun is already setting as we arrive, illuminating the party in a way that looks angelic. Upon reaching one of the many piles of drinks, it’s hard to notice Amerie dancing crazily, along with Darren, Quinni and Malachai. I point it out to Cash, the pair of us surprised that she has any friends left considering her actions.
Parting ways with the eshay I find taking a swig from one of the numerous vodka bottles before grabbing a bottle of bus, watching as Cash immediately begins to get to work, Sasha instantly running over to him the moment she spots him alone. Rolling my eyes, I plant myself further away from the party, sat with my back against one of the decrepit headstones.
I’ve always been more of an introvert. Opting to be a wallflower and observe rather than be the center of attention, unlike my fellow classmates who all seem to thrive when the spotlight is on them. I hate Amerie for forcing me into that spotlight.
Between sips of the slightly warm lager, I begin to roll myself a joint, figuring I may as well attempt to have a good time at the party. Even if it isn’t my ideal Tuesday night. I couldn’t let Cash come on his own though, not when he’s working for my brother.
“You are a bad girl Y/N Y/L/N.” Ant’s voice shouts from a short distance away, strolling towards me with a cheeky grin slapped across his face. “What is this? The second time I’ve caught you smoking now?”
“Right well I was just about to offer to share this with you but I guess not now.” I joke, lighting it up as Ant flops down beside me. “And technically, I haven’t even smoked this yet so you’ve only caught me once.”
“It totally counts!” Ant argues, waiting patiently as I take a couple of puffs before handing him the joint. “How’d your brother take it when he found out about the map?”
“You’re safe if that’s what you’re asking. I haven’t told him and he’s not the type of bloke that answers the phone when Woodsy rings.” He hands the joint back to me, fingers brushing mine tenderly. “Your mum?
“Not great. Amerie really fucked things up for me, I have to go to church three more times a week now, all because of one wristy and well you know.”
“Did you tell her the truth about us?” I inquire, wondering if he did come clean completely about our situationship of sorts.
“Nah, I told her it was just the once.” He admits, glancing at me sheepishly, almost embarrassed to recount the memory. “Figured that was better than telling her the truth. I may have also turned her that you were my girlfriend at the time, you know, to kind of make it better. Not that she approves of premarital sex or anything and I know we didn’t label what we were but it sounded better in the moment. I hope that’s okay.”
“Lying to your mother Anthony, that’s not very christian of you!” I gasp, to which he snatches the joint back out of my hand in retaliation, laughing along with me.
“Fuck yourself.” Ant chuckles, blowing the smoke directly in my face without any warning, causing me to descend into a fit of coughs.
“What’s the deal with you and Cash anyway? You two a thing now?”
Ant’s not looking up at me when he speaks, all his attention fixated on the crowd of teenagers partying in the distance. Anxiously pulling blades of grass from the ground beneath me, I continue to gaze at him, a sigh falling from my lips as I had hoped he hadn’t noticed the line between Cash and my name. It was inevitable that it was going to come up, I had just hoped it would be something that people skirted around, not asking any direct questions.
“Nah.” The word is faint, shaking my head, my eyes fall on the boy in question, completely unaware that we are speaking about him as he stands in conversation with Darren. “We’re just mates.”
The boy nods besides me though I can tell he doesn’t truly believe me, still unable to look in my direction. Nudging him slightly, I give a small smile when he does hesitantly face me. “We hooked up once a few weeks ago, I was pretty much black out and he was just there. It was a fucking stupid decision.”
“Just mates though?” Ant asks, more of a rhetorical question, as if to reassure himself, much to my confusion as I can’t see why it would matter to him whether we were just mates or not. “Okay but who was better?”
Bloodshot eyes and a lazy smile indicate to me that the joint has hit him quicker than either of us expected. Warm blush present on his cheeks, his head tipped back against the headstone , gazing up at the stars that begin to light up the late summer skies.
“You’re so stoned.” I comment, completely dodging the question in the hopes that he’s too high to remember what he had even asked.
“Just like old times, yeah.”
Ant’s fingers brush over my hand just barely, the touch so slight that I wouldn’t have felt it had I not been looking in that direction. Thumb softly tracing circles across the back of my palm, skin feeling as though its been set alight with every small movement. Turning my head, I find Ant already staring at me, mouth curved upwards into a slight smile.
“I wish I never cooked it with you.”
Despite knowing that he is as high as a kite, his words still manage to catch me off guard. Forcing me to pull away, leaning back to take him in properly. From his somber expression to the deep intensity with which he looks at me, awaiting a reaction.
“Cops!” Before I can respond, shouts from the party grab my attention. Head spinning round to see the chaos unfolding, teenagers running in every direction, some scream, whilst others laugh. “Cops! The cops are coming!”
“Oh shit.”
Discarding the bottle I had been nursing, I hop to my feet within seconds, Ant, who now looks surprisingly sober, does the same. Without hesitation, he is grabbing my hand before we take off in a sprint, running in the opposite direction of the flashing lights and sirens that are rolling up to the gatho. As the crowds disperse, I find myself scanning through the seas of people, looking for a certain eshay that would get into a lot of trouble, should he be caught.
“Where’s Cash?” Voice breathy, I force Ant and I to a halt, searching my entire field of vision for any sign of him, head spinning so fast that I’m shocked I didn’t give myself vertigo. “Ant, I can’t see him. Where’s Cash?”
“Y/N we need to go.”
With his free hand, Ant easily slides it around my waist, using all his strength to pry my feet from the pavement. Regardless of my unwillingness, I allow the boy to lead us away from the party. Not wanting to run the risk of getting caught, so instead I recite prayers in my head that Cash also hasn’t been caught.
Upon reaching the locked gate, Ant wastes no time in easily pushing me up so that I can scramble over the metal. He does so with ease, a proud display of his strength and it makes me blush. Reminiscing on the ways he used that strength before.
Running hand in hand down the noiseless streets of Sydney, I find myself giggling at tonight’s events. The prospect of an exciting, if slightly chaotic year eleven rises upon the horizon and I can’t help but display my enthusiasm at seeing where the next few months take me.
(Hopefully, with Ant by my side, but nobody needs to know that.)
Summary: Y/N isn't good enough until it's too late.
Word Count: 1.2k
Gif Not Mine. Requests Are Open!
Warnings: Mature language, hint of suicide (maybe), allusions to cheating
A/N: Testing the waters with a short Spider fic, beware it's an angsty one. Would love to write some more for Heartbreak High so do send your requests!
“Y/N please, the building is on fire!” I hear Spider’s voice shouting at me from down the hallway, though I make no effort to stop. Marching as far away from him as I can, with no clear destination in mind. All I know is that I need to be away from him.
Throwing the classroom door open with more force than necessary, I flinch ever so slightly when it slams against the wall. Unaware of how much strength I had truly used until that moment. The footsteps behind me have fallen silent, though I’m acutely aware of the presence behind me. As much as I can pretend it isn’t there.
“Seriously Y/N, we need to leave! This isn’t safe!” Spider shouts once again, however his voice isn’t raised in anger, purely concern. I wish I couldn’t hear the worry in his voice but it’s something that just can’t be ignored.
Fixing my gaze out of the window, I focus on the row of classrooms on the other side of the quad. Staring at one of the doors so intensely, in the hopes that I can block everything out.
I can feel my heart pulsing at what feels like one million miles per hour, my breaths quick and shaky, hands trembling despite how tight I’m clenching my fists in a futile attempt to calm myself down. The pain inside of me feels like nothing I’ve ever experienced before. As though the bottle inside of me has finally burst, shattering into thousands of pieces and flooding my body with all the anguish and hurt I had so carefully tucked away.
“Y/N come on we need-”
“Why am I always your second option?”
Before I can stop myself, I’m interrupting the boy. Spinning around to face him so quickly that I almost trip over my own feet. My eyebrows are raised as I glare up at him, waiting anxiously for him to answer the question. Knowing that whatever he says next could make or break me. I can tell he wasn’t anticipating the question, face displaying his evident guilt and a hint of confusion. Eyes unable to reach mine.
“You’re not, that’s not-”
“Why am I not good enough?”
Despite my best efforts, the muscles around my mouth tug the corners of my lips down, forcing a frown. With that, the dam bursts, tears seep out of my eyes silently as I hurry to wipe them away with the back of my hand. Not wanting to show Spider just how much he’s hurting me.
Cautiously the boy takes a step towards me, as though testing the water as to how close he can get before I snap. His perfectly ironed suit is now slightly disheveled from all the sprinting through the hallways, and yet the worst part is that he still manages to make it look good. It’s infuriating.
“I told you not to get too close to me.” Spider sighs, his hand hesitantly reaching out to grab mine. As our fingers brush against one another, I shake my head. A new wave of rage washes over me.
“Nah, don’t do that.” I state, swiftly pulling my hand away from his. “Don’t play the bad guy card because that isn’t you. I know you, I know you’re better than that.”
“From the day we met, I knew I’d hurt you eventually.” Spider states running a hand through his blonde locks, tugging at them slightly out of frustration. “You’re so innocent and pure, Y/N you’re an angel. You’re too good for this world.”
Spider brushes his knuckles against my cheek. The cold of his rings a stark contrast to the flaming heat radiating from my cheeks. His thumb gently wipes away the tears that continue to fall and for a moment I forget everything that has happened.
“I wish I could be a better person.”
It’s those eight little words that break me from his trance. My eyes locking with his as a scowl sets on my face. Giving the boy no time to react, I use everything in me to shove him backwards, sending him sprawling to the floor. Yanking the material of my dress up I straddle his stomach, sending punch after punch to his chest and face.
“Fuck you. Fuck you. Fuck you.” Repeating the phrase over and over again, I find myself getting so caught up in my emotions that my actions become weaker, allowing Spider to catch my wrists in his hands. Holding them so tight, I wouldn’t be surprised if bruises formed.
My body collapses, falling into a heap beside the much taller boy. His hands still hold my wrists, as I let out pained wails. Unable to stop myself from breaking down. Gripping the pink fabric of his shirt, my fingers turn white at how hard I’m clutching on to him. I shouldn’t allow myself to be in his embrace. The person who caused me this pain, shouldn’t be the one comforting me and yet here he is. He’s not a bad person, no matter how much he pretends to be. I just know it.
“I wish that I never met you.” I bawled, feeling the headache beginning to radiate through my head due to how hard I am crying.
“You should have walked away when you had the chance.” Spider whispers, before pressing a delicate kiss to the top of my head, allowing me to sob into his shirt.
The overwhelming stench on smoke begins to grow stronger, accompanied by the sounds of sirens outside. Yet, I’m too tired to move. Worn out from the events of tonight and the emotional distress that I have endured.
“You mean everything to me, but I was only something to you.” I croak out, watching the smoke slowly creep underneath the door. There’s something so beautiful in the way it rises and I can’t take my eyes off it.
“I do care about you Y/N.”
“Just not enough.”
The images of her in his arms flash through my mind. How he kissed her so gently, how he held her the way he is holding me now. How she isn’t kept a secret. How she is the first choice. She’s always been the first choice.
I can feel myself struggling to breathe, eyes barely keeping themselves open. Flashing lights illuminate the room from outside, making Spider look angelic. His features are so soft under the bright lights.
“The fire brigade is here, Y/N, we have to get out.”
Spider’s words cause me to glance up at him, cupping his face with the palm of my hand. My breathing is shallow and my touch light. His arms hold me tighter and I notice his eyes are watering as I gaze up at him.
“Is it okay if I give up?”
“What? Give up what? Y/N?” Spider’s voice is panicked and all I can bring myself to do is press a gentle kiss to his lips as I allow myself to shut my eyes.
“Y/N, Y/N. No, come on, I’ll get you out of here I promise.”
As I begin to drift out of consciousness, I can feel Spider doing his best to haul me up and drag me out of the burning school. “Wake up! Y/N please, I’m begging you, wake up! I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry for everything, please, just wake up.”
Hopes And Fears - Part Four. (Wally Clark x Reader)
Summary: Y/N’s death was traumatic. So traumatic in fact she can’t even look at Wally without reliving her death.
Word Count: 2.8k
Gif Not Mine. Requests Are Open!
Warnings: Mature Language, Themes Of Rape/Sexual Assault
“That was kind of harsh Rhonda.”
Charlie’s voice breaks the uncomfortable silence that has fallen upon the group. Each face holding a different expression. Rhonda full of hatred, Charlie consumed by guilt for not stepping in, Wally a mixture of surprise and discomfort.
“Do you think maybe somebody should go after her?” Dawn questions, speaking for the first time since the group session began.
Rhonda huffs, slumping down into her chair as she realises that nobody is taking sides, and if they are, they’re not taking her’s.
“Off you go then Wally, run after your precious little angel.” The girl spits, lips set in a firm scowl, eyes shooting daggers towards him.
“Rhonda!” Mr Martin snaps, though the teens aren’t listening. After all, despite being a teacher, he holds no position of authority over them in death.
“What the fuck is wrong with you?” Wally asks quietly, shaking his head as he does so.
“Maybe I’ve just had enough. Sixty years I’ve been here Wally! Yet nobody seems to care about how that makes me feel, all of you are just pandering to the new girl.” She shouts, slamming her hands down on the edge of her chair as she does so. Taking everyone by surprise.
“Rhonda, of course we care but you’re being really mean.” Charlie speaks softly, gazing sympathetically at the brunette girl.
“Mean? I don’t think I’ve been mean enough. I mean seriously is nobody questioning why she’s being so secretive? What doesn’t she want us to know?” Rhonda continues to push her argument in an attempt to gain a rise out of the other students. Hoping to get them to question themselves and where they stand in regards to the situation. “If you ask me, I reckon the bitch killed herself and she’s too much of a wuss to tell us.”
“That’s bang out of order Rhonda and you know it!” Wally bellows, leaping out of his chair and stomping straight over to her, hands placed on either side of her legs, caging her between himself and the back of the chair. “Don’t you ever speak about her like that again. Don’t you dare so much as look at her. Or I will make the rest of your eternity a living hell, do you understand me?”
Rhonda has no time to respond, though the frightened look on her face tells Wally all he needs to know. Without a second glance, he’s barging out the room. Launching one of the empty chairs across the gym as he does so, resulting in a large clatter though nobody really notices. All eyes fixed on the loveable jock, dumbfounded at the rage he is exhibiting. This being entirely out of character, never once in the years they had no Wally had he exploded in such a way.
Whilst each of the ghosts sits silently, all contemplating their next move in order to avoid another argument, Charlie is the first to make a move. Giving Rhonda a nervous glance, he slowly exits the gym. Asserting that his decision as to who’s side he is on has been made.
Ducking under the police tape, I’m thankful that no officers are around. Granted, I know they can’t see me, I just find it awkward to be stumbling between the living. I’ve come to realise just how much people lack spacial and self awareness.
The room is exactly as it was left, blood stains splattered on the tiled walls and floors. A glistening red in contrast with the mucky white tiles. In fact, the only change within the room is the numbered notes, I can only assume for any evidence the officers may have gathered.
I find myself perched on the end of the splintered wooden bench, lost in thought as I fixate on the scene. I’m amazed at how much blood I truly lost, assuming it would have only been small flecks. When in reality, it is everywhere. Stains from how it pooled mark the floor as well as splashes coating the walls.
My mind flashes back to that moment. Their hands on my body. The beatings I endured as I tried my best to resist. Sharp pain as I tried my hardest to close my legs. Squeals of agony escaping my mouth only to be met with a calloused hand gripping my face tightly prevent anymore noise.
It’s only when I feel a tear drip from my chin to the back of my hand that I realise I’m crying. Nothing to be heard other than my soft sniffles. Despite the memories plaguing my mind, I can’t help but feel proud at myself for returning here. It’s such a small accomplishment and yet for me, it feels as though I’ve taken a huge step forwards into fully processing what I went through. It’s a step closer to healing.
“God, I can’t believe they haven’t cleaned this up yet. I’d have thought they would want to scrub it straight away.”
Charlie’s voice takes me aback and my head spins towards the door. Noticing him shyly stood just outside of the room, almost like he doesn’t actually want to enter. An overwhelming sense of deja vu hits me and I’m reminded of our first interaction right outside.
“I don’t think they’re legally allowed to clean up. Otherwise I’m sure they’d have torn the entire building down by now.”
Shuffling over on the bench slightly, Charlie takes this as an invitation and perches beside me. The two of us staring at the crime scene.
“So I take it you were murdered.” He questions apprehensively, knowing full well what the answer is.
“I’m sorry I haven’t spoke about it yet.” I speak softly, almost afraid of what his reaction could be. I don’t want him to lose his temper like Rhonda, though I get the feeling that he doesn’t have an angry bone in his body. “Charlie, I want to talk. I do. It’s so recent though, I haven’t even been dead a month. I get that it’s shitty but I’m not ready to go into the details of it all.”
“You would think out of all of us that Rhonda would be the most understanding. She’s always been very open about her murder though.” Charlie tells me, seemingly unfazed by my lack of wanting to talk. “I get it though Y/N, you don’t owe us anything. Don’t tell Rhonda this because she’ll think I’m a complete bitch but she was strangled to death, and no offence but judging by the state of this room, your murder was a lot more brutal.”
“Let’s not turn this into a competition of who had a worse death.” I joke, feeling more relaxed due to his words. “But seriously thank you. It means a lot that you’re being so nice.”
“Of course.” The boy smiles brightly, which seems to be contagious because I can’t hold back the beam on my face either. “On a completely separate note, you should probably go and find Wally. He completely lost his shit with Rhonda after you left. Like he went full psycho, I’ve never seen him lose it like that before.”
“Fuck.” I whisper, running a hand through my hair, a habit of mine when I’m under stress. “Thanks again Charlie, I really appreciate it.”
Charlie only nods gently, watching me scurry out the room. Clearly sensing that I’m in a rush to find the footballer. Wandering around the halls of Split River, it’s only then that I realise I have no idea where Wally could be. Worry begins to seep through my pores, knowing there is endless possibilities as to where he could be. If only the school could be ten times smaller. Perhaps this wouldn’t be so challenging.
Thinking back to our previous conversations, I try to remember any hangout spots that Wally may have mentioned. Though these rarely seem to come up in conversation. We spent most of the time sprawled out in the gardens and yet there was no sign of him when I searched back there.
Huffing out of annoyance, I’m fully prepared to give up my hunt for him. At least I was. Out of the corner of my eye I become aware of the sign directing students towards the pool. Wally’s words ring in my head from earlier this morning.
“So I was thinking we could have a pool day.”
With crossed fingers and countless prayers being whispered under my breath, I stride towards the pool. Confidence boosted as I hope that my intuition is right and that he went away with his pool day solo.
My suspicions are confirmed as my eyes lay upon the handsome boy. Lost in his own thoughts as he drifts about on a pool floaty, arms tucked beneath his head and sunglasses on to block out the rest of the world. Loitering at the edge of the pool, I remain silent. Just for a moment. In order to truly appreciate this man’s beauty. He’s the most exposed I’ve ever seen him. Granted he’s only shirtless, but still I can’t help the flutter I feel in my heart (and possibly between my legs). With defined abs and toned body, he reminds me of a Greek statue, carved out of stone.
“Y/N, I’m not really in the mood to talk right now.” Wally states, as my eyes drag up his body, I’m aware that his sunglasses are now placed on his forehead and he most likely just caught me gazing at his physique.
“I know, neither am I.” I admit, sitting down at the edge of the pool, pulling my shoes off and throwing them behind me so that I can dip my feel it in the lukewarm water. “But I do owe you an apology.”
This catches his attention and I see his eyebrows raise, eyes darting over to me. Wally looks sad. There’s no other way for me to describe it. I’ve seen him sulk and upset before. However, he looks worse than I’ve ever seen.
“Rhonda’s words really hit me. I never meant to make you feel like you’d done anything wrong. I’m so sorry for making you feel that way. You don’t need to try to make me feel less threatened. I know you don’t have a cruel heart.” I admit, voice shaky as I genuinely have no idea as to how he will react. “It’s no excuse, but I was struggling a lot those first couple of days and I guess I took it out of you and you didn’t deserve that. So I really hope you’ll forgive me. I also thought I should probably mention that you don’t have to stop wearing your football stuff because of me. You love it, I don’t want you to feel as though you can’t wear it because I’m going to have a breakdown.”
Swinging my feet in the water slowly, I keep myself focused on this rather than Wally who floats a few feet away. His silence scares me slightly and I know that if I even look at him, I may burst into tears. I never meant to hurt him. I really didn’t.
“Rhonda’s full of bullshit.”
I’m shocked when he speaks, purely because I thought he was mad at me. I’m even more shocked when I understand what he’s said. Never once hearing Wally say a bad thing about someone and here he is calling out one of the ghosts he’s known the longest.
“What?” I’m completely puzzled by what he just said, not knowing what he means by it and whether he means that what Rhonda said wasn’t true. My tone reflects this and when I go to look up at him, he’s already slipping off the floaty and swimming towards me.
“I said Rhonda’s full of bullshit.” He’s pretty much beside me now, arms crossed as they rest against the edge of the pool next to me. It’s the closest we’ve ever been to one another and I can’t deny the way my heart races right now. Not even one ounce of fear resides within me despite our close proximity. Maybe I am doing better now? “I like spending time with you Y/N. I wasn’t trying to make you feel less threatened. Yeah, I wanted you to feel welcome and to know I mean no harm but that was it. All the time I’ve spent with you is because I wanted to, I enjoy it.”
“So you’re not mad at me?”
He laughs faintly. “No, I’m not mad at you. Thank you for the apology but you really didn’t have to say anything.”
I cannot even begin to describe how relieved I am that the ghost isn’t mad at me. For a moment back there, I was prepared to spend eternity alone, thinking everybody had turned their backs on me. Fortunately, that wasn’t the case and I potentially let myself overthink without speaking to anybody under less tense circumstances.
Grateful to have resolved things with Charlie and Wally, the only person left is Rhonda. However, something tells me that she might need some time. I doubt seeking her out is the best course of action right now and she probably needs space to cool off. So, for now, I’m happy to sit here and bask in the peace once more.
“So, a pool day for one isn’t exactly the most exciting and fun time.” Wally mentions, splashing a small amount of water at me.
“No I can’t imagine it is.” I reply, he swims backwards, a silent request for me to join him in the water. Which I’m happy to oblige.
Stripping off my clothes, I dump them on one of the seats. Out of the way of the pool edge in the hopes that they remain dry. Left only in my underwear, a lacy red bralette with matching thong, I thank my lucky stars that the day I died was one of the days I wore a decent set.
A shaky breath leaves my mouth as I turn around to face Wally. It’s the most vulnerable I’ve felt since getting here and I am anxious. Afraid of any judgement from Wally and afraid of being so exposed. All of these thoughts vanish instantly when Wally’s eyes begin to trail my body. Flashing with desire. He doesn’t think I’ve noticed, though I don’t miss the barely there whistle that escapes under his breath.
“Are you gonna move out of the way or what?” I ask, hands on my hips as I wait for him to move to one side.
He does so with no complaint and I sprint forward, diving straight beneath the water and surfacing with a gasp for air. Pulling my hair out of my face, I find myself only a few inches away from Wally and take the opportunity to splash the water in his direction. After all, it’s only fair that I take my revenge.
“Oh this is war.” Wally yelps after being pelted in the face again by another large splash.
We’re both rocked against the waves that the battle has created. Huge splashes attacking each other alternatively, repeatedly in hopes of taking the other person down. I’m completely unaware that the force of the water is slowly bringing us closer together and before I know it we’re face to face. Noses practically touching one another.
“I think I win.” He whispers, sopping wet hair pushed back off his forehead, small curls beginning to form.
“Never.”
He’s focused on me, chestnut brown eyes piercing into my soul. I daren’t think too much, scared he can read my mind with the force of his gaze. A sudden surge of bravery must overcome him as he gently reaches out, tucking a strand of my hair behind my ear. His touch is soft, as light as a feather. Like he’s scared I’ll pull away. It’s the first time we’ve ever made physical contact and though the act is so sweet and innocent, my heart flutters at the intimacy of it.
His hand is delicate as it moves from my hair, gliding down my cheek to hold it lovingly. It’s then that I notice his eyes flickering down to my lips, silently asking for permission. As much as my heart desires his touch and his affection, something in my mind can’t let go. It won’t allow me to take that step further and so I reluctantly pull away. The move quick as I break out of his gentle hold.
“I’m gonna go dry off in the sun.” The words spill out of my mouth, faster than I intended. Wally tries his best to hide it but I spot the disappointment clear on his face. Obviously hoping that this could have gone further.
If only I was able to articulate to him just how much I wanted to take things further as well. For now though, we’ll stay friends.
hi! can you please add me to the hopes and fears wally clark fanfic taglist? i'm so invested in the story already and i'm in love with how you write 💙✨️
Thank you so much, of course you can be added!! <3
Hopes And Fears Part Three. (Wally Clark x Reader)
Summary: Y/N’s death is traumatic. So traumatic in fact, she can’t even look at Wally without reliving what happened to her.
Word Count: 2.4k
Gif Not Mine. Requests Are Open!
Warnings: Mature Language
I’ve grown fond of the early mornings whilst stuck at Split River. The first glimpse of the sun shining over the gardens, a warm hue welcoming the day. With no students roaming the halls, all I hear is the quiet sounds of nature. On the odd occasion, I’m even able to spot a rabbit or deer, grazing gently on the acres of freshly trimmed fields surrounding the school buildings.
It’s become a habit of mine, each morning I find myself lounging besides the flowerbeds. Allowing myself to feel each blade of grass that delicately brushes my skin. For a while, I forget that I’m no longer alive. I can simply exist.
It’s not uncommon for Wally to join me. Sprawled on his back, gazing up at the clouds. Pointing out different shapes and imagining different backstories for all of the cloud animals he sees. Besides that, neither of us speak much. Only enjoying one another’s company as we relax in the morning light.
Spending this time has given me the opportunity to process everything. Wally helps me to work through my emotions and thoughts. Nothing ever being too much for him to listen to, though I’m still afraid to divulge everything. I’m sure he can sense that I’m holding back, yet he doesn’t pry. Content to just listen. In all honestly, I truly believe that these moments with Wally have helped me more so than Mr Martin’s support group has. Despite attending every session since my memorial, I consistently leave the group feeling unfulfilled. Unsatisfied. In fact, it doesn’t seem as though the teacher wants us to discuss the past, our lives and our deaths. Only wanting us to focus on the present, the state we are confined to. I find myself struggling with this a lot.
“What do you think you would be doing if you hadn’t died?”
Pushing myself up on my elbows, I look over to Wally, who is resting on his stomach, absentmindedly plucking grass from the ground.
“I was supposed to go to college, play football. Hopefully make it pro, that’s what the plan was anyway.” He tells me, full of confidence yet his tone of voice suggests that’s not the pathway he would’ve chosen for himself.
“What about like outside of a job though?” I pry, the boy has my curiosity heightened. “Like, surely you have other things that you wanted to do?”
His eyes focus in on the pieces of grass that he’s now twisting together in a makeshift sort of chain. Deep in thought, I can see the cogs working in his brain as he tries to think of an answer for me. I’m sure it’s not something he’s necessarily thought of before, following the path that his mom set out for him upon birth.
“You’re gonna laugh, but I always wanted to get married and have a family. I know that times have changed and you lot don’t really believe in marriage and stuff that much anymore but I’m a family guy. Always have been.” He admits, finally looking at me and I see the honesty written across his face. “It just sucks that I’ll never actually get to experience it.”
My heart aches for him. One fatal accident and his entire future was stripped away. Never getting to experience the things he always dreamed of. It breaks heart, knowing what he could have had.
“Wally, I’m so sorry.”
“It’s no big deal, really, I’ve spent the last few decades accepting my fate and it’s not so bad here.” He tells me, a sadness shining in the brown of his eyes, trying his best to cover it up with a soft smile. “What about you? Other than taking over the world with your best friend, what was the plan?”
Giggling slightly as he references Abby’s speech, I start to wonder what my life would’ve looked like. Truthfully, I have no idea. My life revolved around dancing and cheer, other than that I have no clue as to who I am. Up until my death, I didn’t believe I was worthy of love, the one chance I took was with Spencer and look how that turned out.
“I suppose I wanted to leave Split River, Abby wanted to go to New York so I figured I would study there.” I reply, knowing New York was never my dream. I just couldn’t bare to part with her once high school ended. “It would be quite nice to live on a farm. Out in the middle of nowhere, surrounded by animals, I think that would’ve been my dream.”
“Now this makes sense.”
Crossing my legs underneath me to sit up properly, he’s unable to hide the bright smile on his face. Clearly finding some amusement in what I said.
“What makes sense?” I ask, to which he laughs quietly. Pulling a clump of grass out of the ground, I launch it in his direction. “Hey, you dickhead, I didn’t laugh at you, so you can’t laugh at me.”
“No, no. I’m not laughing at you.” Wally speaks through chuckles, rolling on to his back. “It just makes sense now why you like to sit out here.”
His arms are thrown across his face, shielding his eyes from the sun. I can’t help but stare as his muscles flex, admiring the sight in front of me. Following his body, I find myself biting the inside of my cheek as I notice his top has risen up his stomach ever so slightly. Highlighting the small trail of hair that dips below his shorts.
“Did you have a girlfriend?” I blurt out, before I even realise what I’m saying.
Slapping my hand across my mouth, embarrassment floods my body, eyes wide as Wally smiles. Eyebrows raised as he looks over to me. Sly smile making its way on to his face.
“No. No girlfriend. Why?”
“I was just wondering. I mean, star high school quarterback, you must have had girls queuing up for your attention.” I’m able to stop myself before I begin a long-winded rant. Helping to ease at least a tiny amount of my embarrassment.
Wally rolls his eyes at my comment. “Well in that case you must’ve had boys queuing up for your attention. What with being head cheerleader and all.”
“Ha ha. Okay, I know it was a stupid question.”
Fortunately for me, I’m saved from making a fool out of myself even more by the sounds of cars entering the parking lot. In unison, we both turn to face the sound. Observing the students that have started to filter into the building, chatting loudly amongst one another as they do so.
My vision locks in on Spencer and his gang of hooligans. They’re jumping all over one another without a care in the world as they make their way into the school. Trail of awestruck girls following behind in the hopes of garnering the smallest amount of attention from one of the jocks.
If only I was able to tell them what they’re really like. Perhaps they wouldn’t make the same mistake that I made. Perhaps I’d be able to save them from the same fate that I suffered.
“So I was thinking we could have a pool day. I think Charlie would be up for it, maybe not Rhonda, but it could be fun for us all just to chill out. You haven’t really spent much time with anyone else apart from in our sessions with Mr Martin.”
Wally’s words echo around my head though I’m not paying any attention. Despite, no longer being able to see the group that I was fixated on, I’m still closely watching the area that they had just previously been walking through.
Two weeks later and Spencer and his friends still evade justice. Police presence at the school has increased drastically with crime scene investigators cornering off the old toilet block. Maybe I’m impatient, but it feels like they’re getting away with it. Receiving no consequences for their heinous actions.
“Y/N, are you listening?”
Wally’s words finally drag me out of my thoughts and I meet his eyes. “Yeah, pool day, sounds good.”
“And we’re inviting Charlie and Rhonda.” He states, eyebrows raised as he knows I wasn’t truly paying attention to a word he said.
“Oh, no. They’re nice but can we just do it alone? I’m not sure I feel up to doing a whole group thing.”
Wally nods, though his eyes narrow. Sensing there’s something off with me. He’s good at noticing whenever my demeanour changes, or whenever something is bothering me. It’s part of his nature.
“Yeah of course. We should probably head to group first though.” The athlete pushes himself off the floor as he speaks, waiting for me to stand as well which I reluctantly do, not before releasing an annoyed groan. “You know, one of these days, you might actually enjoy the sessions.”
Rolling my eyes, I follow Wally towards the gym. He holds the doors open for me as we enter the building, his small act of chivalry makes me giddy. I make no effort to show this however, politely thanking the boy as I walk through.
“Ah here they are! Took you two long enough.” Charlie jokes as we enter the gym, taking our seats. I sit between Dawn and Rhonda with Wally seating himself between Charlie and Mr Martin.
“No guesses what they’ve been up to.” Rhonda comments, lollipop hanging out the side of her mouth as she does so.
“Thank you Rhonda.” Mr Martin chimes in, stopping the conversation from escalating any further. “So today, I figured we would get to know our newest member. Y/N you’ve been here for a couple of weeks now and we still don’t know too much about you.”
“I’m sure Wally could tell us all about her.” Rhonda remarks under her breath. So quiet, I almost don’t catch it.
“I’m sorry, is there something you want to say?” I snap, my tone harsh and confronting.
She laughs in response, the annoyance on my face evident as I glare at her. Her snarky and sarcastic nature hasn’t proven to be a problem for me, though I think that may be about to change.
“Y/N, tell us about your death. We’re all dying to know what happened. No pun intended.” The teacher interjects, attempting to diffuse the tense situation yet I still feel on edge.
“No thank you.”
“Oh come on Y/N, none of us are going to judge you. You know that.” Charlie tells me, offering me a reassuring smile.
“No, she’d rather just listen to all our trauma. Isn’t that right cherry pop?”
Rhonda’s words strike a chord within me. I’ll admit, the other ghosts have been very open about their deaths with me. All discussing in detail what happened to them to result in this fate. Sure, I haven’t divulged into the details of my death as of yet, but it’s for good reason. Not only am I still trying to process it myself but I don’t want them to look at me any differently nor do I want them to take pity on me when they learn the details.
“Do you have a problem with me or something Rhonda?” I ask, swinging around in my chair so that I can face her directly.
Upon doing so, I take note of how Charlie and Wally are quick to sit up straight. Feeling the anger radiating off me and awaiting any possible confrontation that may be about to occur.
“As a matter of fact, I do.” The girl retorts, crossing her arms over her chest before she continues speaking. “You waltz in here and make no effort with any of us besides Wally. Who, let’s not forget, you made to feel like a piece of shit on your first day after that unreasonable outburst. You listen to all of us recounting our deaths, the most traumatic things that could’ve happened to us and still none of us know what happened to you. It hardly seems fair.”
“Oh, I’m so sorry Rhonda. I’m sorry that i’m still processing what happened to me. I’m sorry that I’m not ready to discuss it with a group of strangers. I am so sorry that I’m not getting over everything as quick as you would like me to.”
My voice is raised as I speak, hurt that she would even think that my choice not to share what happened is a personal attack on the group. No matter how hurt I’m feeling, the anger completely outweighs it. Angry that she can’t see that I’m still struggling and angry that my murderers are still attending this school. Instead of being locked behind bars for the rest of their life, like they deserve to be. Nobody can understand what I am going through and that makes me so astonishingly angry.
“Boo hoo. You’re still processing, we’re all still processing. Not to mention the fact that we’ve barely seen Wally these past couple of weeks because he’s been trailing around after you, trying to make you feel less threatened by him. He’s even taken off that stupid football shirt that he loved so much! I hate to break it to you, but he was here first.” She argues, tears well in my eyes as she mentions Wally. I lock eyes with him and see his downcast expression. Was she right? Was he only spending this time with me to make me feel better and less scared? “You should do everybody a favour and fuck off back to the old toilet block where you came from.”
“Rhonda!” Charlie exclaims, clearly shocked by her words.
“Is that how you really feel Wally?” I ask hesitantly, the dejection evident in my voice.
He opens his mouth to speak, but no words come out. Nodding slightly, I understand completely. Pushing myself out of the chair, nobody speaks as I make my exit from the room.
“Lovely chat.” Rhonda shouts, one last attempt to get a reaction from me. Even as I shove open the doors with an obnoxious slam, I don’t look back.
The entirety of my body feels heavy as I drag myself down the hallways. Nobody comes after me, not even Wally. I feel truly alone, hurt and confused. Death was supposed to be peaceful and yet here I am. Suffering more than I ever did when alive.
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