ali

hit it, wes

[scoopsahoydjo]

ali’s headquarters

about me:

• 27 ✨

• full time socials strategist in the music industry 🎧

• part time barista ☕️

• would die for justin bieber & joe keery ❤️‍🩹

masterlist:

steve harrington:

off the record - ongoing

steve is a college basketball captain & you’re a sports journalism major

you can’t love me - ongoing

best friends with steve but he can’t understand that you love him

[scoopsahoydjo]

me being flown out to a potentially life-changing interview in atlanta and still somehow making it about stranger things:

[scoopsahoydjo]

no genuinely he is not the same person like these are all very different actors to me !!!

[scoopsahoydjo]

hey so like i have no one in my real life to talk to about this so here i am but um … are we sure this man is real? like genuinely he cannot be an actual person i’m-

[scoopsahoydjo]

where are my noah kahan x steve harrington girlies pls i know you’re out there

[scoopsahoydjo]

having the concept of djo be mansplained to me on a dating app rn i’m-

[scoopsahoydjo]

this is me begging for y’all to drop the angstiest, gut wrenching fics (series, one shots idc !!) you’ve read on here for any of joe’s roles pls i have no motivation to update my own fics rn so i wanna read others ((:

[scoopsahoydjo]

you can’t love me | steve harrington

childhood friends, angst, oblivious(?) steve, one-sided love

part one • part two • part three • part four • part five

—

The quarry was freezing at night. So much so that the sharp wind curling off the dark water was able to penetrate Steve’s jacket. Hawkins stretched out far in the distance beyond the cliffs; scattered porch lights, empty roads, places that used to feel familiar before tonight carved something out of him.

Steve sat on the hood of his car with his elbows resting against his knees, staring blankly at the black water below.

He couldn’t stop hearing your voice. It wasn’t just what you said, but the way you’d said it. Your words were laced with exhaustion and honestly? You sounded destroyed. He’d never seen you affected like that in the entire 10 years of having you in his life.

I don’t know how to save myself from you anymore.

The sentence looped through his head so relentlessly it almost stopped sounding real. Steve had spent years convincing himself your love existed in some safer category. His mind categorized it as something softer than romantic love; something permanent and untouchable and impossible to lose.

A shaky breath left him as he leaned forward, pressing his hands hard against his mouth. Every memory he had of you was rearranging itself into something unbearable.

The flashbacks started coming one after another. They were cruel and vivid and impossible to shut out.

He was 17 again. Drunk and humiliated after a fight with Nancy.

The party downstairs had blurred into noise hours ago, music vibrating faintly through the bathroom walls while Steve sat slumped beside the bathtub trying very hard not to cry where anyone could see him. He remembered the cold tile against the back of his head. The taste of alcohol and shame sitting heavy in his throat.

And then you pushed open the bathroom door quietly. “There you are,” you’d said.

Steve laughed bitterly without looking at you. “You should go back downstairs.”

You ignored him completely and sat beside him on the floor anyway, knees brushing his.

For a while neither of you spoke. You just sat there while he spiraled quietly beside you, giving him space to be miserable without trying to fix it.

Eventually he looked over and found you already watching him.

“Why are you still here?” he’d muttered finally. “I’m literally ruining your night.”

You smiled sadly then. “Steve,” you said softly, “you could never ruin my night.”

At the time, he’d rolled his eyes, thinking you just felt obligated because you’d known each other forever. Now, sitting at the quarry, he realized nobody had ever looked at him the way you had that night. The way you had most nights.

Another memory hit before he could stop it.

It was the night the group had fought The Mind Flayer at Starcourt.

Steve sat shirtless on the edge of your bathroom counter while you cleaned dried blood from where he’d been kicked and punched across his stomach. The bathroom smelled like rubbing alcohol and antiseptic while your hands trembled badly enough that you kept fumbling the bandages.

“You need stitches,” you whispered again.

Steve hissed as you pressed gauze against his side. “I’m fine.”

“You are not fine.”

“I lived.”

Your eyes snapped up at him then.

Steve remembered the exact expression on your face now with horrifying clarity. It wasn’t sadness for your friend, or frustration that he tried acting fine.

It was pure, genuine fear.

“You almost died,” you’d whispered.

At the time, Steve thought you were emotional because the entire group was traumatized and exhausted and scared after everything. But thinking back now, at how your fingers had lingered against his skin. How your eyes watered as you plastered bandages over every cut and bruise on his body.

You treated him like he was something sacred to you. And maybe he was.

“You can’t keep scaring me like this,” you’d said shakily.

Steve smiled faintly then, brushing it off with some stupid joke about demodogs and you looked away quickly.

The longer he sat there, flipping through memories, the more he finally understood. You had never hidden your love from him. He’d just been burying it.

Steve dragged both hands through his hair hard enough to sting.

“Oh my god,” he whispered into the empty night.

The sound broke apart halfway through. Somewhere deep down, beneath all the denial and obliviousness and fear, Steve thought maybe he’d always known. At least enough to keep running back to you every time his life fell apart.

He’d spent years desperately searching for proof that someone could love him unconditionally while actively refusing to believe the one person who already did.

Steve climbed off the hood of the car abruptly and shoved shaking hands into his pockets before getting behind the wheel, driving aimlessly towards the town’s shittiest bar.

He knew drinking wouldn’t fix anything, but he just needed the inside of his head to quiet down for five minutes.

-

Robin found him nearly two hours later after his slurred payphone call.

The bar smelled like beer and smoke and wet pavement tracked in from outside. Steve sat hunched over the counter with red eyes and shaking hands wrapped around a half empty glass.

For a moment Robin just stood there looking at him, expression softening as she took in the state of her best friend.

“Oh, Steve.”

Something in her voice undid him completely. “I think I fucked everything up,” he said quietly.

Robin sighed before sliding her arm around him. “Yeah,” she admitted softly. “I think maybe you did.”

Steve laughed once, the sound wet and broken.

“I didn’t mean to.”

“I know. Let’s get you out of here, yeah?” Robin helped him out of the stool, letting him lean on her until they got to his car. She slipped his keys out of his pocket before settling him into the passenger seat and making her way to the other side of the car.

Rain streaked across the windshield while Hawkins passed in blurry lights outside the passenger window.

“She loved me,” Steve whispered suddenly.

Robin tightened her grip on the steering wheel slightly.

“Yeah.”

“No, like—” His voice cracked hard. “Really loved me.”

Robin’s chest tightened painfully, but she remained silent. Knowing he just needed to get out the thoughts pounding in his brain.

“When people love me,” Steve continued shakily, “they always leave eventually.”

His voice sounded younger suddenly.

“My parents only liked me when I was doing everything right.” He laughed bitterly. “Good grades, basketball, the right friends, the right girlfriend. Everything was always conditional.”

Steve stared blankly ahead, eyes glassy now.

“If I screwed up, they pulled away. If I needed too much, they disappeared.” His throat worked hard around the words. “And she never did.”

Tears slid quietly down his face now.

“She loved me when I was pathetic, or drunk, or terrified. She loved me after every awful thing I said about myself.” His voice broke completely. “And I think some part of me knew if I let myself really believe it… if I believed she loved me enough to stay forever—“

He couldn’t finish the sentence and Robin’s own eyes burned suddenly.

“I think I made her smaller in my head,” he whispered finally. “Because if her love was real, then losing it could be real, too.”

The honesty of it sat brutally between them.

Steve laughed shakily through tears, staring down at his hands. “And now I lost her anyway.”

Robin closed her eyes briefly. There was nothing she could say to fix this. Nothing she could say to make him feel better.

All she could do was watch as Steve Harrington came to terms with the fact that the person who loved him most had been bleeding quietly beside him for years while he kept asking everyone else to prove he was worth staying for.

And now she was gone, and he was a wreck.

—

guys this was so much better 2 hours ago but it all deleted so i had to rewrite it and now i just don’t think it hits the same. anyways! thoughts? do i just end it here? do we want more? what are the vibes idk

taglist: @itmekelpy @ophirei @pumpkinleavess @harringtonsb1tch @mrtonystark @starryymeg @apocalypse-v @turtlamour @83927xoxo @keerygirlie98 @dramallama9 @hello-nah817 @bakugouswh0r3 @solynoche @daddyavesxx @loriepov @beezusvreeland @eleanor-harrington @swirledyouintoallmypoems @benakenalove @kurtsw7rld96 @ahead-fullofdreams @lacywithdrawal @skkeletonns @aquariusmermaid2626 @hisparentsgallerryy @crescentwillow @miahslt91 @purpleeyeswithgoldensparkles @ilovest3veh4rr1ngt0n @chiquita-a-a @marvelgirlie-4 @harringtons-bnbg @lavenderblue525 @scaramou @cycloneperson @nightfirecomit @daggersandbuttercups

[scoopsahoydjo]

you can’t love me | steve harrington

childhood friends, angst, oblivious(?) steve, one-sided love

part one • part two • part three • part four • part five

—

It had been almost two months since the last time you’d been seemingly normal around Steve. Two months since the diner; two months of you slipping away out of his hands without him understanding why.

You still spoke to him sometimes. You smiled when the group was together, asked how work was going — very bare minimum interactions. But each one felt filtered somehow. Almost like there was a barrier wrapped around you that Steve couldn’t push through anymore.

He hated it. The feeling constantly sat beneath his ribs and made everything feel significantly worse. Which is why suddenly seeing you with your guard down around someone that wasn’t him made him want to throw up.

He wasn’t even looking for you that afternoon. He’d gotten off work early and decided to follow Robin to a coffee shop downtown that she had been raving about.

The bell above the door jingled softly as he stepped inside, warm air and the smell of coffee grounds immediately hitting him. As Steve stood near the entrance, waiting for Robin to order for them, he heard a laugh that was all too familiar.

You sat near the window with sunlight spilling across your face, one leg tucked beneath you in your chair while you laughed at something the guy across from you had said.

It wasn’t the polite laugh you’d been giving him for the last few months. It was your real laugh. The one that used to be reserved for him.

The sight hit him so hard it almost felt physical. For a second, Steve caught himself just standing there, staring.

The guy sitting across from you looked around your age. He had dark hair with a sweater pushed up to his elbows. One of your notebooks sat open between the two of you while he pointed at something on the page, smiling as you shook your head laughing again.

Something ugly twisted violently in Steve’s chest as a thought hit him before he could stop it.

But that’s my person.

The thought was instinctive and possessive enough to horrify him. He didn’t mean it in an ownership way, or even romantically, but… she was his.

The person he looked for first. The one who knew him best. The one who was supposed to laugh like that with him.

Steve couldn’t breathe properly as he continued studying the situation. You looked lighter and that’s what hurt him most. You’d been so stiff and polite with him lately that seeing you like this was a blow to his ego.

Jealousy wasn’t the right word to describe what he was feeling — in a way, it was closer to panic.

“Wow.” Robin popped up next to him, two coffees in hand. “You’re staring.”

Steve flinched and forced his eyes away from you. “I’m not staring.”

“You kinda look like someone just shot your dog in front of you.”

Steve shoved his hands into his jacket pockets roughly, jerking his head towards the two of you. “Who’s that?”

Robin went quiet for a second before scoffing, “Oh, you do not get to do this.”

Steve frowned immediately. “Do what?”

“That.” She gestured vaguely towards him. “Whatever this is.”

Steve looked back before he could stop himself. The guy reached across the table then, brushing a crumb off your sleeve casually. His chest tightened so violently it made him nauseous.

Robin saw it happen in real time.

“Oh my god,” she muttered.

“What?”

“You’re freaking out.”

“I am not freaking out.”

“Steve.”

“I’m just asking who he is.”

“You haven’t asked about her life in almost two months.”

“That’s not—”

“She stopped answering your calls and you barely fought for her, Steve.”

The words hit harder than they should have.

Steve blinked at Robin, caught off guard by the sharpness in her voice. “I was supposed to fight for her?”

Robin had still been adamant about giving Steve any hints as to why you were suddenly so distant, but that felt like the closest he’d gotten so far.

“I didn’t know if she just wanted space or something,” he said defensively.

Robin laughed once, disbelief lacing the sound. “She practically disappeared.”

“She still hangs out with us.”

“Yes, but she stopped hanging out with you.”

The distinction landed like a punch and Steve felt his throat tighten.

Across the shop, you smiled at something the guy said again and reached for your drink.

Robin watched him quietly for a long moment before speaking again.

“You know you don’t get to freak out over this, right?”

Steve tore his gaze away from you again. “I’m not freaking out.”

“Then why do you look sick?”

And he genuinely did. He pressed a hand hard against the back of his neck, suddenly too warm beneath his jacket. “I just…” He swallowed roughly. “I don’t know.”

And that was the terrifying part. He didn’t know why this felt so horrible. Why seeing someone else sit across from you made something frantic start clawing around inside his chest. Why the idea of you slowly building a life that didn’t revolve around him anymore suddenly felt unbearable.

Robin’s expression softened once she noticed how truly affected her best friend looked. “Steve,” she said quietly, “you can’t spend years taking someone for granted and then panic because somebody else finally noticed them.”

The words hollowed him out instantly and for the first time, Steve realized this wasn’t temporary.

You weren’t having a bad week. You weren’t tired.

You were leaving him.

Standing there in the middle of that coffee shop, watching another person make you laugh while you looked lighter than you ever had around him lately, Steve felt something cold settle deep in his stomach.

Suddenly, losing you no longer felt impossible.

//////////

You’d almost convinced yourself you were getting better. Definitely not healed. But better enough that the ache wasn’t constant anymore. Better enough that entire hours sometimes passed without you thinking about Steve Harrington.

The house sat quiet around you while rain tapped softly against the windows, the rest of Hawkins asleep beneath another stormy night. Your bedroom lamp cast a dull golden glow across the floor while music played quietly from your cassette player near the bed.

You sat cross-legged beneath a blanket with an open book in your lap, though you hadn’t actually turned the page in almost twenty minutes.

Everything around you was still, quiet. Then came the knock at your window. It was soft and way too familiar and for one terrible second, your heart reacted before your brain did.

Steve.

Because no matter how many weeks passed without him calling, no matter how carefully you’d started untangling yourself from him, some part of you would probably always recognize the sound of Steve at your window.

You stared at the glass while your pulse thudded painfully against your ribs.

Don’t do this.

You already knew you shouldn’t but you made the mistake of looking up fully and that’s when you saw him.

Everything inside you cracked open immediately.

Steve stood outside your window soaked through from the rain, shoulders hunched against the cold. His hair clung damply to his forehead and even through the dark you could see how red his eyes were.

He looked devastated. He wasn’t drunk or just sad. He was absolutely wrecked.

Your breath caught painfully as the years of knowing him reminded you that Steve almost never cried. At least not where people could see him.

And suddenly every boundary you’d spent nearly two months building collapsed all at once beneath one horrible, hopeful thought: he came here for me.

The realization hit so hard it made your hands shake as you crossed the room.

Maybe Robin talked to him. Maybe he finally understood.

You shoved the window open before your brain could stop you and the cold air rushed inside immediately.

“Steve—”

His name barely left your mouth before he climbed halfway through the window, voice cracking softly.

“Can I come in?”

The sound of it destroyed you.

And despite the distance and the heartbreak and the humiliation of loving him for so long, your chest still tightened instinctively at the sight of him hurting.

You stepped back immediately to let him inside.

Steve climbed through the window clumsily before standing awkwardly in the middle of your room dripping rainwater onto the carpet.

For a moment neither of you spoke. Your heart pounded so hard it almost made you nauseous.

He came to you. After all these weeks.

And the way he looked at you now? You couldn’t breathe around the hope building inside your chest.

Steve scrubbed a hand over his face roughly before letting out a shaky breath. “I didn’t know where else to go.”

Your stomach flipped painfully. That sounded like the beginning of something. A confession, maybe? An explanation or maybe an apology.

You waited patiently for him to continue as Steve sat on the edge of your bed, elbows braced against his knees while he stared down at the floor.

Rainwater dripped from the sleeves of his jacket.

“You ever have one of those nights,” he said quietly, “where it feels like everything’s just… wrong?”

The hope inside you flickered slightly, but still, you sat beside him carefully. “What happened?”

Steve laughed once under his breath.

It sounded exhausted.

“My dad,” he muttered. “And this girl I’ve been talking to, I guess.”

Something cold slid slowly into your chest.

Steve kept talking before you could respond.

“She stopped answering my calls this week, which—whatever, fine, I get it.” He rubbed both hands over his face roughly. “But then tonight I ran into her at Tina’s with some other guy and she acted like I was insane for even being upset about it.”

Your pulse slowed and the room suddenly felt very far away.

“Oh,” you said quietly.

Steve nodded without looking at you.

“And then I got home and my dad started in on me again about wasting my life working at Family Video and not having a plan and I just…” His voice cracked slightly. “I don’t know. I think I just hit a point tonight where I couldn’t be alone.”

Every word felt like a knife sliding deeper between your ribs. He came here devastated and instinctively reached for you the same way he always had. Using your love as a resource he could survive on without ever acknowledging what it cost you to give it.

Beside you, Steve let out another tired laugh.

“I know things have been weird lately,” he said softly. “But you always know what to say.”

Something inside you began caving in slowly. You were mad at yourself, mad at Steve. Because for one humiliating moment when you opened that window and saw tears in his eyes, you genuinely thought he finally saw you.

Your throat tightened violently and Steve finally looked over then, brows furrowing slightly at your silence.

“You okay?”

The question almost made you laugh and you took the time to stare at him for a moment. You saw the exhaustion on his face, the complete trust in his eyes. You noticed the way he sat in your room like this was the safest place in the world for him to fall apart.

And suddenly all you could think was, I am going to love this boy until it kills me.

Steve’s expression shifted slowly as he finally noticed yours. “Wait,” he said softly. “Why are you crying?”

The words shattered something in you completely. He still didn’t understand.

You looked away quickly, wiping at your face before he could fully see how hard your hands were shaking.

“I can’t do this anymore, Steve.”

When you looked back at him, genuine confusion had already spread across his face.

“What?”

Your chest hurt so badly it felt difficult to breathe.

“You keep coming here,” you whispered. “You keep coming to me every time somebody else makes you feel unwanted and asking me to put you back together again like it doesn’t destroy me every single time.”

Steve stared at you blankly. “I don’t understand.”

Tears blurred your vision now no matter how hard you fought them.

“For years,” you said shakily, “I have sat here and listened to you talk about girls and dates and heartbreak and feeling unlovable while acting like my feelings were some joke you didn’t have to take seriously.”

Steve’s face drained slowly of color. “I never—”

“I know,” you interrupted immediately. Your voice cracked hard enough to make him flinch. “I know you never meant to hurt me, Steve. That’s the problem.” Rain battered softly against the windows around you as you forced yourself to finally say what you’d been holding back for years.

“You come here because you know I love you,” you whispered. “You come here because somewhere deep down you know I’ll always make you feel wanted.”

Steve looked physically ill now.

“But every single time you do it while pretending my love doesn’t really count…” Your voice broke completely. “It feels like you’re ripping pieces out of me.”

The silence afterward felt unbearable.

Steve stared at you like he was seeing you clearly for the first time in his life. The cruelest part was that you could see the exact moment he realized this pain had been real all along.

“I didn’t know,” Steve said suddenly. The words came out sharper than before, almost defensive. “You can’t sit here and act like I knew all of this.”

You stared at him in disbelief through blurred vision. “Steve—”

“No, because seriously, what was I supposed to do?” he demanded, standing abruptly from the bed. “You never actually told me!”

Something in you snapped. A broken, exhausted sound tore out of your throat before you could stop it. “Are you kidding me?”

Steve looked wrecked too now, hands shaking as he dragged them through his hair. “I thought you were joking half the time!”

“Oh my god.” You stood so fast the room tilted. “I told you I loved you.”

“I thought you meant as friends!”

“How?” you cried. “How could you possibly think that?”

“Because you always stayed!” Steve shot back immediately, voice cracking. “No matter what happened, no matter how many times I screwed up or called or showed up here, you were always here!”

The words hit like a slap. Because there it was. The truth neither of you wanted to say out loud.

Steve had treated your love like something permanent and immovable.

“You don’t get to use that against me,” you whispered shakily.

“I’m not trying to—”

“Yes, you are!” Tears spilled harder down your face now. “You’re acting like this is my fault because I loved you enough to stay? How is that fair?”

Steve’s expression crumpled instantly.

“I tried to tell you. God, Steve, I tried so many times and you literally told me I didn’t count,” you said brokenly.

Steve froze as the words landed visibly.

“You looked me in the face and told me I didn’t count because you thought there was no way I could actually love you like that.” Your voice shattered completely. “Do you have any idea what that did to me?”

“I didn’t mean it like that,” he whispered.

“But you did.” You wiped angrily at your face, breathing unevenly now. “Maybe not on purpose, but you did. Every time you brushed me off or laughed or came crying to me about another girl, you were telling me over and over that my love wasn’t real enough for you to believe in.”

“Stop,” Steve said suddenly. “Please, just stop.”

“You know what the worst part is?” you whispered. “I let you.”

Steve’s eyes squeezed shut as you ignored his plea.

“Because I loved you so much that I kept letting you come here and take pieces of me every time somebody else hurt you.”

The room fell silent except for both of your uneven breathing.

After a long horrible moment, you looked at him with tears still sliding helplessly down your face and said the one thing that finally broke whatever was left between you.

“I don’t know how to save myself from you anymore.”

You watched as Steve shook his head in disbelief, looking at you like he couldn’t believe the last 15 minutes were real. Finally, he forced himself over to your window, preparing to climb back out, before looking at you one last time.

“I never meant to ruin you.”

—

so how are we feeling? (:

taglist: @itmekelpy @ophirei @pumpkinleavess @harringtonsb1tch @mrtonystark @starryymeg @apocalypse-v @turtlamour @83927xoxo @keerygirlie98 @dramallama9 @hello-nah817 @bakugouswh0r3 @solynoche @daddyavesxx @loriepov @beezusvreeland @eleanor-harrington @swirledyouintoallmypoems @benakenalove @kurtsw7rld96 @ahead-fullofdreams @lacywithdrawal @skkeletonns @aquariusmermaid2626 @hisparentsgallerryy @crescentwillow @miahslt91 @purpleeyeswithgoldensparkles @ilovest3veh4rr1ngt0n @chiquita-a-a @marvelgirlie-4 @harringtons-bnbg @lavenderblue525 @scaramou @cycloneperson

[scoopsahoydjo]

you can’t love me | steve harrington

childhood friends, angst, oblivious(?) steve, one-sided love

part one • part two • part three • part four • part five

—

Letting go of Steve Harrington was easier said than done. The pact you had made with yourself at movie night would lose its grip on you the second he smiled in your general direction.

But, still, it had to be done. You just needed a little push off that cliff. And thankfully, Steve’s oblivion had no problem shoving you right off.

The rain on the windows of the diner blurred the neon streaks of the open sign across the glass. Your group had basically taken over the entire back corner of the restaurant, shoving tables and booths together so you could all fit.

Robin was doodling on a napkin while Dustin and Mike argued over something ridiculous. Lucas and Max were in their own little world, and Nancy and Jonathan were showing El how to work the mini jukebox on the table, Will helping her decide on a song.

Steve sat beside you, the way he always did. His thigh bumped yours beneath the table anytime he shifted. His arm rested across the back of the shared booth seat, not quite around you but close enough to feel the warmth radiating off of him.

While everyone had their own side conversations, the two of you had been going back and forth, stealing fries from each other’s plates. It was a 10 year tradition in your friendship now. One of you would reach over to grab one and the other would slap their hand away, ultimately letting them have it anyway.

You were happy in this little booth with the people you loved. The person you loved.

The bell above the diner door jingled suddenly, announcing the arrival of a group of girls around your age. They shuffled into the building in a rush of perfume and laughter, shaking rainwater from their jackets while the hostess grabbed some menus.

One of them glanced towards your booth and eventually made eye contact with Steve. She smiled instantly and whispered something to the brunette next to her, followed by both of them giggling.

Beside you, Steve straightened immediately and the whole table groaned in unison.

“Don’t,” Robin said, pointing a fry at him accusingly.

Steve looked personally offended. “I’m just sitting here!”

“Yeah, but you have that face.”

“What face?”

“The ‘a pretty girl looked at me and now I’m about to become unbearable’ face,” Dustin said, rolling his eyes.

Steve laughed loudly, shoving Dustin’s shoulder from across the table. “You guys are assholes.”

Still, his attention drifted back toward the girls again almost instantly and you felt something in your chest sink. This wasn’t unusual in the slightest. Steve would flirt. Girls would flirt back. You’d be watching it all go down, pretending it didn’t hollow you out from the inside.

The cycle repeated endlessly.

Across the table, Robin’s expression flicked toward yours briefly and you could see the way it softened immediately upon spotting yours.

You looked away first, becoming suddenly very interested in the ketchup on your plate.

One of the girls glanced over again and whispered something to her friend that made all of them laugh.

Steve leaned closer toward you automatically. “Okay, but objectively speaking—”

“No,” Robin interrupted immediately.

“She’s cute.”

“You say that about every blonde with a pulse.”

“That is wildly inaccurate.”

“You once flirted with a cashier because she handed you a receipt and smiled.”

“She was into me!”

“She worked in customer service.”

The table burst into laughter while Steve groaned dramatically. You smiled faintly because you knew you were supposed to, but the noise around you felt distant. The space in the booth seemed way too small and the diner suddenly felt overwhelmingly warm.

Steve was still talking beside you, oblivious and warm and alive in the way only Steve could be, while all you could think was: I don’t know how much longer I can survive this.

As that thought bounced around your mind, Steve stood up.

Robin closed her eyes like she physically couldn’t watch.

“Oh my god,” she muttered.

“What?” Steve defended, already smoothing a hand through his hair reflexively. “I’m just saying hi.”

“You’re impossible.”

Steve pointed finger guns at nobody in particular. “Wish me luck!”

Before anyone could answer, Steve headed across the diner toward the girls’ booth with that effortless confidence he wore like armor.

The entire table got quieter after he left. You stared down at your drink while heat crawled painfully up your throat.

Across from you, Robin nudged a napkin towards you to grab your attention. “You okay?”

“Fine,” you answered too quickly.

Nobody called you out on the lie but it wasn’t a secret. You were hurting.

Through the reflection in the diner window, you could see Steve laughing at something one of the girls said now. Leaning casually against the edge of their booth. Bright-eyed and charming and easy. The version of himself he gave everyone else first.

You hated that you knew exactly how this would go. He’d flirt, get her number, take her out a few times and eventually end up in your room at 2am asking what was wrong with him when it fell apart again.

And then you’d comfort him. Because that’s what you always did. That’s what he expected.

Beside you, Robin kept talking softly about something Dustin had done earlier, very obviously trying to distract you while Max shot Lucas a look that said don’t say anything stupid right now.

Then, through the window reflection, you watched him pull a pen from his jacket pocket. The blonde laughed again while Steve scribbled something quickly onto a napkin before sliding it across the table toward her.

Something inside you cracked — the push you had been needing finally sending you over the edge.

A few minutes later, Steve returned to the booth grinning to himself as he slid back into the seat beside you.

For the first time, maybe since you’d known him, you leaned away slightly before you could stop yourself.

Steve noticed immediately, his grin faltering for half a second. “What?” He asked with a laugh. “You disowning me now?”

You looked at him and finally realized Steve Harrington would just keep taking pieces of you forever if you let him.

“Just tired,” you finally replied.

He accepted your answer without any hesitation and reached over to grab a fry from your plate. You let him take one before moving it further to your other side — out of his reach.

/////////////

At first, Steve told himself you were just busy. To him, that was the easiest explanation.

People got tired, had bad weeks, didn’t answer the phone immediately. It was completely normal that he hadn’t heard from you in days. Totally and completely normal.

“You’ve looked out that window 6 times in the last 10 minutes,” Robin’s voice came from the back room of Family Video.

Steve glanced away from the storefront way too quickly before muttering a response. “I’m literally working.”

Outside, the parking lot sat mostly empty beneath the late afternoon heat. Usually around this time you’d stop by with a soda or some random snack you’d grabbed while running errands. You always came and leaned against the counter talking for a while before inevitably distracting him from work.

It had become a bit of a routine. One of those things Steve never consciously thought about because it always happened. Until suddenly it didn’t.

“She mentioned something about helping her mom this week,” Robin said casually, still sorting tapes.

Steve frowned slightly. “Yeah, but not for like… 3 straight days.”

Robin snorted softly. “I don’t know anything.”

Steve narrowed his eyes at her, not believing her in the slightest, before the store phone rang, interrupting whatever argument he’d been about to start.

By the time his shift ended, he’d almost convinced himself he was being dramatic. He got home and instinctively reached for the phone to call you before remembering halfway through dialing that you still hadn’t called him back from yesterday or the day before that.

A strange tightness settled low in his chest. It wasn’t hurt exactly. Something just felt off.

You always called him back. Even when you were busy, when you were annoyed with him, when you’d had a stupid argument.

But you hadn’t called back yet.

Steve frowned at the phone for a long second before finally hanging it up.

A week later, Steve realized he’d started noticing your absence everywhere. It wasn’t just in the obvious places, but in minuscule moments. He’d hear something funny and automatically think about wanting to tell you or he’d hear a song play at Family Video and remember you badly singing it to him in his car once.

Even movie nights were different now. You still came sometimes, but you left earlier and sat on the opposite side of the room. He noticed you talking to everyone else first instead of gravitating towards him like you always did.

The first few times, Steve tried brushing it off. But one night he walked into the living room carrying boxes of pizza and found you sitting on the floor, your usual spot occupied by Max.

“Rude, you abandoned me,” he said as he plopped down onto the couch, looking directly at you.

Normally you would’ve had some sarcastic retort or rolled your eyes, but you just shrugged and dove back into your conversation with Robin.

The rest of the night, he found himself glancing at you constantly. You were always preoccupied talking to someone else. He’d even thrown popcorn at you to get your attention.

You looked at him in surprise before smiling faintly and putting your focus back on the movie. That bugged him. You were being careful. Like there was suddenly a space between you where none had existed before.

Two weeks after the diner, Steve finally cornered Robin during a slow shift. She was kneeling beside the new releases section reorganizing tapes while Steve hovered nearby pretending to restock candy.

“You guys are being weird.”

Robin didn’t look up. “Who’s ‘you guys?’”

“You. Her. Everybody.”

“Maybe we formed a secret club.”

Steve sighed heavily. “Robin.”

“What?”

He shoved a box of Milk Duds onto the shelf harder than necessary. “Okay, seriously, did I do something?”

That finally got her attention.

Robin looked up slowly, her expression unreadable and Steve felt a flicker of panic immediately because clearly there was an explanation here that everyone knew except him.

Robin sighed softly before standing up. “Steve…”

“What?”

For a second she looked like she might actually answer him but then her face closed off again.

“I really think you should figure this one out yourself.”

Steve stared at her blankly.

“That’s not cryptic at all.”

Robin grabbed the stack of tapes beside him and shoved them into his arms. “Good talk.”

“Robin.”

But she was already walking away toward the back room. Steve stood there for a long moment holding a stack of VHS tapes against his chest while frustration curled hotter and hotter beneath his confusion.

He genuinely did not understand what was happening.

Just weeks ago, everything was fine, and now every interaction felt slightly off-balance. Almost like he kept reaching for something that wasn’t there anymore.

—

yeah this wasn’t angsty enough, i should probably make the next part brutal and depressing, huh?

taglist: @itmekelpy @ophirei @pumpkinleavess @harringtonsb1tch @mrtonystark @starryymeg @apocalypse-v @turtlamour @83927xoxo @keerygirlie98 @dramallama9 @hello-nah817 @bakugouswh0r3 @solynoche @daddyavesxx @loriepov @beezusvreeland @eleanor-harrington @swirledyouintoallmypoems @benakenalove @kurtsw7rld96 @ahead-fullofdreams @lacywithdrawal @skkeletonns @aquariusmermaid2626 @hisparentsgallerryy

[scoopsahoydjo]

yes i’m reacting totally and completely normally to these pics i swear !!

[scoopsahoydjo]

you can’t love me | steve harrington

childhood friends, angst, oblivious(?) steve, one-sided love

part one • part two • part three • part four • part five

—

Movie nights with your group of friends had become sacred. There was something about the normalcy of it that you all latched on to; having to save the world multiple times didn’t typically leave a lot of room for normal.

When Friday nights would roll around, you’d always find yourself right here. On a couch you shared with Steve, in his living room, surrounded by all of the people you loved.

Steve’s house now held a warmth that you wouldn’t have been able to find years ago, and you noticed better than anyone. You’d spent a lot of your life in it.

When his parents would go out of town for weeks on end and 10 year old Steve would call your house, making up some excuse for you to come over. It didn’t take you long to realize he just didn’t want to be alone. But you never brought it up and you’d always be at his front door within 10 minutes.

That went on for the next decade, and it’s how it has always been with the two of you: if he called, you showed up. If he needed you, you were there.

For you, that kind of loyalty stemmed from the love you’d held for him.

For Steve, you were just a constant. Someone he knew he could depend on. A friend.

You sat curled up in the corner of the couch while Steve occupied most of the cushion next to you, his knee brushing yours without thought. Despite the movie, he’d been talking non-stop since everyone arrived, his words coming out fast and restless.

“You know what I don’t get?” He threw his hands up dramatically from where they were originally resting on his thighs. “Why even agree to go on a date if you’re just gonna stare at me in silence the whole time?”

Robin snorted. “Maybe because you spent the entire date interrogating her about her 5 year plan?”

Steve looked offended immediately, pointing an accusatory finger at Robin. “I was making conversation.”

“You asked her what kind of mother she’d be!” Dustin exclaimed, wanting to join in the imminent teasing.

“That was one question!”

“It was the second question, Dingus.” Robin said flatly.

Max barked out a laugh from the floor while Mike and Lucas nearly choked on their popcorn.

Steve tried to defend himself amongst the group, but the situation had clearly gotten away from him. “Okay, first of all, she is the one who brought up kids.”

“You asked how many she wanted and by when, Steve!”

“I was curious!”

“You are 20 years old and took a girl to get coffee and ask about her parenting styles. That’s not flirting; it’s a census interview.”

The room dissolved into quiet laughter as Steve groaned, dragging both of his hands down his face. “I’m serious, though. I thought it was going well.”

You had been listening quietly to the banter, chuckling in the right spots. But you couldn’t ignore the deep ache in your chest you always got when he was talking about another girl.

Another night spent listening to him wonder aloud why nobody ever stayed while your feelings for him wedged itself between the two of you — invisible and humiliating.

Deciding it was time to interject so your thoughts wouldn’t go to deep, you finally spoke. “Maybe you scared her a little.”

Steve dropped his hands immediately at the sound of your voice. “How is asking about someone’s future scary?”

“Because normal people ask about favorite colors first.” Lucas said.

The group laughed again as Robin exclaimed a thanks to Lucas for validating her point. Steve slumped farther into the couch cushions with an exasperated sigh.

“I don’t know, man. I just feel like every time I try to be serious about someone, they look at me like I’m insane.”

“You are kind of intense.” Mike interjected.

“I hate all of you,” Steve muttered, before continuing quietly. “I’m just saying it’d be nice if somebody actually picked me for once.”

The room shifted immediately with his words. It was tiny, and almost imperceptible, but you felt it immediately. Looking around the room, you could tell the others felt it, too.

Lucas stopped smiling first. Max’s expression flickered uncomfortably before she looked at the ground and Robin stiffened in the armchair she was in. Even Dustin, who typically could not read a room took a sudden interest in the fuzz on the rug.

Because everyone knew. Not in the dramatic way a coming-of-age movie would portray it. There had never been a dramatic confession or some declaration of your love for Steve. But it existed in smaller ways that stacked up over time and made it clear to those around you.

It was in habits, instincts. The way your eyes searched for him first in every room you entered. Every time he’d call and you’d answer before the first ring could finish. Everyone knew because they watched you love him constantly.

And now, the way he said those words, looking directly at you, made your chest tighten. Knowing he was blissfully unaware of their affect on you. But he didn’t stop there.

“I don’t know,” he said with a humorless laugh, hand rubbing the back of his neck like he did when he’d start overthinking. “Maybe I’m just hard to stick with.”

You opened your mouth, before snapping it shut immediately. What could you possibly say anymore that you hadn’t already spent years trying to convince him of?

You’d told him he was lovable before. That he was good and easy to choose. But none of it mattered. He’d smile at the reassurance but you could tell he put your feelings in a completely separate category from everyone else’s. In the category of someone who loved him because they had to and not because it was real.

The room suddenly felt too warm and too loud, the walls seemingly drawing closer to you. You stood carefully, quietly declaring you were grabbing another drink as your untouched one still sat on the coffee table.

You’d made it about 3 steps before you heard rustling behind you and Robin’s voice muttering a quick, “move, dingus” as she shoved past Dustin.

A second later she appeared in the doorway, arms crossed as she leant against the frame. She watched as you opened the refrigerator without looking inside it and for a moment, neither of you spoke.

You could hear the muffled sound of the movie from the other room, someone’s laughter combining with it. Steve’s.

Robin walked closer and rested her back against the counter next to you. “You okay?”

You let out a quiet breath through your nose before answering. “Yup.”

“Cool. Very believable. I’m completely convinced.”

Despite your mood, your mouth twitched into the start of a smile. Robin’s expression softened immediately at the sight of it, which somehow made everything worse.

Robin knew way too much. You were convinced she knew before everyone else — even before you did, maybe.

“You know he doesn’t mean it like that,” she said gently after a second.

And there it was. The same sentence everyone always gave you in this reoccurring situation.

You stared down at the condensation gathering on the soda can you’d grabbed from the fridge, swallowing hard. “I know. That’s what makes it worse.” You laughed softly, but there wasn’t any humor in it. “I mean if he was rejecting me on purpose, at least I could be angry at him for it.”

“You’re still allowed to be angry about it.”

“No, I’m not.” Your voice cracked around the words. “Because he just genuinely doesn’t see it.”

Robin’s face tightened, and that hurt, too. It confirmed what you already knew. That everyone understood except the one person you needed to.

You leaned back against the counter with a tired sigh, eyes fixed somewhere past the kitchen window into the dark backyard beyond it.

“I just…” You shook your head once. “I don’t know how many more conversations I can sit through about him wanting somebody to love him while he looks right through me.”

That made Robin close her eyes briefly. It wasn’t because she disagreed — she definitely didn’t. But Steve was her best friend and so were you. Watching the invisible string between you both start to tangle and not being able to do anything about it was hard.

From the living room, Steve’s voice suddenly carried down the hall. It was casual, warm and completely unaware of the mental turmoil he was causing in his own kitchen.

“You guys coming back or what?”

Robin looked at you immediately and your whole face dropped. That was the whole problem.

Steve already had you. He had you so completely that the possibility of ever losing you had never even crossed his mind. And he didn’t notice.

After a moment, you forced your expression back into place and grabbed the soda from the counter. As you walked back down the hall, towards the living room, you made a silent pact with yourself.

You couldn’t keep feeling like this. You couldn’t keep letting Steve have this affect on you.

So you had to let him go.

—

wrote this during a zoom meeting w record label associates wearing my steve harrington shirt and playing my djo vinyl in the background. this is peak.

taglist: @itmekelpy @ophirei @pumpkinleavess @harringtonsb1tch @mrtonystark @starryymeg @apocalypse-v @turtlamour @83927xoxo @keerygirlie98 @dramallama9 @hello-nah817 @bakugouswh0r3 @solynoche @daddyavesxx @loriepov @beezusvreeland @eleanor-harrington @swirledyouintoallmypoems

[scoopsahoydjo]

you can’t love me | steve harrington

childhood friends, angst, oblivious(?) steve, one-sided love

part one • part two • part three • part four • part five

—

“You know what Robin said to me today?” Steve asked, sprawled across the foot of your bed like he owned it. You were flipping through a magazine, only half listening to him, so you gave a weak hum that he took as his cue to continue. “She said, and I quote, ‘You go through girls faster than Eddie goes through guitar strings.’ And she was so serious, too!”

Steve seemed genuinely offended by her words, so it probably didn’t help that you nodded and scoffed in agreement. “I mean, is she wrong?”

“Of course she’s wrong!” He sat up abruptly and threw himself closer to you on the bed, plucking the magazine out of your hands. “He buys, like, 2 packs of strings a week.”

“How many dates did you go on last week?” You gave up on trying to get your magazine back and leaned against your headboard, arms crossed as you looked at Steve.

“Like 2?”

“And … the week prior?”

Steve glared at you, seeing where this was going.

“Another 2, but that’s not the point.”

“That’s exactly the point, Steve. The first step to getting help is admitting you have a problem.” The teasing in your voice was clear but your best friend had a knack for dramatics, so he rolled his eyes and crossed his arms like a little kid.

It was always like this.

Steve showing up at your window or front door at impossible hours with another story about another almost-relationship that collapsed before it started. Another night spent trying too hard to be charming because if he stopped talking for long enough, people tended to leave.

Right now he was staring at the ceiling with that familiar restless look in his eyes.

“You ever think,” he started carefully, “there’s maybe just something wrong with me?”

Your chest tightened instantly as the two of you finally got to the real reason he came over tonight.

“Steve—”

“No, seriously.” He sat up straighter now, elbows on his knees. “Like, what if people meet me and after a while they realize I’m actually kind of a disaster?”

“You are a disaster,” you said lightly.

He pointed at you. “See? Exactly.”

“But not in the way you mean.”

Steve laughed once, quiet and humorless, gaze dropping to the floor. “I don’t know. Nancy left. Half the girls I take out look bored halfway through dinner. The other half just want…” He cut himself off, the implications settling in the air.

“You know what the worst part is?” he asked after a second. “I keep thinking if I can just get somebody to stay long enough, maybe they’ll finally tell me what’s wrong with me so I can fix it.”

Your heart ached so violently it almost made you angry.

The way he said things like that so casually now, like he genuinely believed love was something people earned by becoming easier to tolerate. It affected you more than it should.

“There’s nothing wrong with you.”

Steve immediately rolled his eyes.

“There she is.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You always say stuff like that.”

“Because it’s true.”

“Because you’re biased.”

Your jaw tightened slightly. “I’m not biased.”

Steve looked over at you then, giving you that familiar smile that somehow made everything worse.

“You’ve known me since we were six,” he said. “You kinda have to love me.”

The words hit like a slap because you’d heard them before. You know he didn’t mean them cruelly, but they still sat heavy in your chest. He said it so easily. With so much certainty. Like your love for him wasn’t a choice you made every single day despite how badly it hurt sometimes.

You tried to laugh it off anyway.

“That’s not how that works.”

“It kinda is,” he teased, bumping your socked foot with his. “You’re like genetically programmed to be on my side.”

You stared at him for a second too long. Steve didn’t notice, and honestly, he never did.

Instead he stood, wandering toward your bedroom window restlessly before pushing it open. Summer air drifted in warm and thick.

“You know what I think?” he said. “I think maybe I missed my chance.”

“With what?”

“With all of it.” He shrugged one shoulder. “The whole love thing.”

You let out a soft incredulous laugh. “Steve, you’re twenty.”

“Yeah, I’m ancient.”

“I’m serious.”

“So am I.” He leaned against the window frame now, face softer in the moonlight. “I mean, maybe some people are just the temporary person, y’know?”

You hated when he talked like this. The worst part was that everyone else only saw the version of Steve that performed confidence so well it almost looked real.

They didn’t see this side of him. The boy who stayed awake until three in the morning wondering why nobody chose him. The boy who looked genuinely startled anytime someone was kind to him. The boy who wanted love so badly it was practically bleeding out of him.

The boy you’d fallen in love with 10 years ago, before you really even knew what love was.

And maybe that was why it hurt so much to sit here and love him while he searched for it everywhere except the one place it had always been.

“You’re not temporary,” you said quietly.

Steve smiled again, dismissively.

“See?” he said gently. “That’s what I mean. You don’t count.”

Something inside you cracked so quietly you weren’t even sure he heard it.

Steve kept talking after that.

You answered where you could, but the words kept echoing anyway.

You don’t count.

In his head, your love wasn’t real because it had always existed. To him, you were just another part of Hawkins he took for granted that would still be there tomorrow.

Eventually Steve glanced toward the clock on your nightstand and sighed.

“I should probably go before your mom starts thinking I live here.”

You forced a smile. “Pretty sure she already does.”

“Fair.”

He grabbed his jacket from your desk chair before pausing in front of you.

For a second, his expression softened and you thought maybe he was finally going to see you.

Instead he reached down and squeezed your shoulder affectionately.

“Thanks for listening to me spiral again.”

Anytime, you almost said automatically. But suddenly the thought exhausted you.

So instead, you just nodded.

Steve frowned slightly at your wordless reply.

“You okay?”

The terrifying thing was that he sounded genuinely concerned.

You swallowed hard and looked away first.

“Yeah,” you lied softly. “Just tired.”

And because Steve Harrington had never once believed he could be the reason someone was hurting, he accepted the answer immediately.

—

this is just gonna be a short lil fic, maybe 3-5 parts, that i’ll update in between Off the Record updates (:

i miss my 80s boyfriend, steve harrington, and will do all i can to keep his presence alive🙂‍↕️

taglist is OPEN, lmk if you wanna get added <3

[scoopsahoydjo]

Off The Record | Steve Harrington

Chapter Twelve - Rigged

words: 7.1k

series masterlist

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

The next morning felt dangerously normal.

That was the first thing you noticed as you followed Steve through the automatic doors of the grocery store with a cart rattling softly beneath his hands. Nothing about the last few weeks should have allowed normalcy to exist between the two of you anymore. Not after the months of damage sitting unresolved between you like broken glass neither of you knew how to stop stepping on.

And yet somehow, standing beside him in the produce section while he argued with you about avocados, it almost felt easy.

“You’re squeezing them too hard,” you said, watching him manhandle an avocado with absolutely no technique whatsoever.

Steve looked up innocently. “How else am I supposed to know if they’re ripe?”

“You press gently.”

“I am pressing gently.”

“That thing is fighting for its life.”

A laugh escaped him before he could stop it, low and warm and real enough to make something tighten painfully in your chest. God, you had missed that sound. You hated how much you had missed it.

He held the avocado out toward you. “Okay then, teach me, Paparazzi.”

The nickname still did something awful to you every time he said it now. Softer than before. Like he understood it meant something now instead of just being a joke between you.

You took the avocado from his hand, trying not to think about how your fingers brushed his in the process.

“See?” you said quietly, pressing your thumb lightly into the skin. “Not too hard.”

Steve watched your face more than the avocado.

“Right,” he murmured. “Got it.”

Your stomach flipped unpleasantly when you realized he wasn’t listening to a single word you were saying.

You quickly looked away, placing the avocado into the cart before he could notice the effect he was having on you. That had become a recurring problem over the last twelve hours. Every time you let yourself relax around him for even a second, he’d say something gentle or look at you too softly or do something stupidly thoughtful, and suddenly you’d remember exactly why you fell in love with him in the first place.

In the moment it felt nice, but then the logical side of you knew it was dangerous.

Because no matter how easy this felt right now, your heart still remembered the image of Courtney tangled up in his sheets.

Your chest tightened instantly at the thought.

Almost subconsciously, you folded your arms tighter over yourself.

Steve noticed immediately, his smile fading slightly. “What?”

“Nothing.”

“That wasn’t nothing.”

You shook your head quickly, turning toward another display before he could study your face too hard. “I’m just thinking.”

“About?”

You grabbed a random tomato you didn’t even want just to have something to do with your hands. “You don’t have to analyze every mood change I have.”

“Yeah, I kinda do.”

You glanced at him.

Steve’s expression had softened now, concern replacing the teasing look from earlier.

“Because half the time lately,” he said carefully, “I can practically see the second you remember I hurt you.”

The honesty of it knocked the air from your lungs a little.

You looked down at the tomato in your hands.

“That obvious?”

“To me? Yeah.”

Part of you wanted him to stop noticing things about you so easily. It would’ve made this so much less complicated.

Instead, he reached over quietly and took the tomato from your hands before placing it back in the display. “You hate tomatoes,” he said.

You blinked.

And somehow that hurt too.

Because he remembered things. He noticed things. He cared. Which made it infinitely harder to reconcile with the version of him that had looked you in the eyes and tried to destroy you at that party.

You swallowed and turned away before he could see your expression shift again.

For the next few minutes, the two of you moved quietly through the aisles together. But it wasn’t awkward silence. It was the kind that came from familiarity. Your bodies naturally adjusted around each other without thinking. Steve pushed the cart while you reached for ingredients. He handed you things before you even asked for them. At one point he grabbed your favorite cereal off the shelf without a word and dropped it into the cart like it belonged there.

Every little thing he did felt intentional now. Not a single moment felt performative or manipulative, and a cynical part of you wished it did.

Because if he’d been cruel all the time, this would’ve been easy.

Instead, Steve Harrington was standing in the frozen foods aisle remembering your favorite snacks and walking slightly slower whenever you fell behind him and looking at you like he was still a little stunned you came back at all.

It made your resolve feel thinner than it should’ve.

You were halfway through deciding between pasta brands when a voice suddenly cut through the aisle behind you.

“Steve Harrington?”

Both of you turned at the same time.

A girl about your age stood a few feet away staring at him with obvious recognition. Pretty. Blonde. The kind of girl who looked like she’d spent high school sitting on the sidelines of a basketball game in a cheer uniform, knowing exactly how attractive she was.

Steve blinked in surprise before recognition crossed his face.

“Oh my god,” he said. “Megan?”

She laughed immediately. “Wow. I can’t believe you actually remembered me.”

Your stomach dropped a little.

Of course he remembered her.

Steve had probably kissed half this town.

The thought came bitter and immediate before you could stop it.

Megan stepped closer, smiling warmly at him. “It’s been forever.”

“Yeah,” Steve said. “Since what? Junior year?”

“Something like that.”

Your chest tightened quietly. You tried not to let it show.

Megan’s eyes finally slid toward you curiously. “And who’s this?”

Your body entered fight or flight mode immediately, preparing to be brushed aside like your first time meeting Courtney. But before you could even open your mouth, Steve answered easily.

“My girl.”

The words hit you so hard you almost physically reacted.

Your head snapped toward him immediately.

Steve didn’t even seem to realize what he’d said at first. Or maybe he did? Because when his eyes flicked toward yours a second later, there was no panic there. No hint of backtracking or regret.

Just something warm and certain.

It made your pulse stutter traitorously in your chest.

Megan smiled instantly. “Oh my god. That’s actually so cute.”

You opened your mouth, fully prepared to correct him, but Steve’s hand landed lightly against the small of your back before you could.

“Yeah, this is…” Steve glanced at you carefully for a second before saying your name softly.

The way he introduced you felt different than it would’ve months ago. Less like a flirtation and more like something he genuinely cared about.

Megan smiled at you warmly. “Nice to meet you. I knew Steve way back when.”

“Unfortunately,” Steve muttered.

She laughed. “Please. You were such an asshole in high school.”

You snorted before you could stop yourself.

Steve looked offended. “Wow. Okay.”

“She’s probably right,” you said.

“Oh, so this is how it’s gonna be?”

Megan grinned. “Honestly, good for you, Steve.”

He blinked. “For what?”

She shrugged lightly. “You seem different.”

Something shifted subtly in his expression at that.

“Yeah?” he asked carefully.

“Yeah,” she said simply. “Happier.”

Your chest tightened again.

Megan looked between the two of you one more time before smiling knowingly. “Anyway, I won’t interrupt your domestic little grocery trip any longer.”

Steve rolled his eyes. “Thanks.”

“It was good seeing you.”

“You too.”

She waved once before disappearing down the aisle.

The second she was gone, silence settled between you again.

You stared very hard at the pasta shelf.

Steve cleared his throat softly beside you.

“You okay?”

You let out a quiet breath. “Your girl?”

His ears immediately turned pink.

“Oh.”

You finally looked at him.

Steve rubbed the back of his neck nervously. “That just kinda came out.”

“Mhm.”

“But,” he added quickly, stepping closer to the cart, “I also didn’t hate saying it.”

Your stomach flipped violently.

“Steve—”

“I know,” he interrupted softly. “I know we’re not there yet.”

The gentleness in his voice almost hurt.

“But I meant it,” he admitted. “Maybe not officially. Not in a way I deserve yet.” His eyes held yours carefully. “But in my head? It’s you. It’s been you for a long time.”

You had to look away again.

Because the worst part was you believed him.

And believing him was becoming terrifying.

•

The drive back to his house felt quieter after that. Like both of you were thinking too hard about the same thing but neither wanted to say it out loud first.

When you got inside, Steve carried the grocery bags into the kitchen while you started unpacking ingredients.

“You cook,” you said. “I’ll supervise.”

He scoffed immediately. “That sounds fake.”

“You need supervision.”

“You wound me.”

You laughed quietly despite yourself, and Steve’s expression softened instantly at the sound like it was still the best thing he’d heard all day.

You needed to stop reacting to him like this.

But then he’d lean against the counter looking unfairly pretty in a plain gray sweatshirt while talking about whether garlic bread counted as a full food group, and suddenly your heart would start acting stupid all over again.

At one point while he cooked, music started playing softly from the little speaker near the sink. Some old song you vaguely recognized.

Steve glanced toward it before looking back at you.

“You wanna dance with me?”

You stared at him. “In your kitchen?”

“Yeah.”

“You’re holding pasta sauce.”

“So?”

You shook your head immediately, laughing under your breath. “Absolutely not.”

But Steve was already setting the spoon down.

“C’mon.”

“No.”

“Paparazzi.”

“That nickname isn’t gonna work on me right now.”

“It literally always works on you.”

You rolled your eyes as he walked around the counter toward you, holding his hand out dramatically.

“You’re ridiculous.”

“And yet here you are.”

Your chest tightened slightly at the words.

Here you are.

You stared at his outstretched hand for a long moment before finally placing yours in it.

•

Sleep became impossible somewhere around midnight. You’d laid in Steve’s guest room staring at the ceiling for nearly two hours, listening to the old house settle around you in soft creaks and distant hums while your brain refused to shut off for even a second. Every time you closed your eyes, another moment from the day replayed itself immediately afterward. Steve smiling at you over grocery store shelves. Steve introducing you as his girl without hesitation. Steve swaying with you in the middle of his kitchen like he’d forgotten there was a world outside of the two of you entirely.

It was cruel, honestly.

Because the more time you spent with him away from campus, away from the whispers and articles and basketball games and everything else, the easier it became to remember why this had hurt so badly in the first place.

You loved him.

You loved him enough that forgiveness was starting to feel dangerously possible.

With a frustrated sigh, you finally shoved the blankets off yourself and sat up. The digital clock on the nightstand glowed 2:17 AM in dull red numbers.

Maybe sugar would fix the situation. Or at least distract you from it.

You quietly opened the bedroom door and slipped into the hallway, the floor cool beneath your feet as you made your way downstairs. The house was dark except for the faint glow of moonlight spilling through the living room windows. For a second you thought you might actually be alone.

Then you heard the freezer door open.

You blinked in surprise as Steve straightened from the kitchen, an ice cream tub in one hand and a spoon in the other. He looked equally startled to see you standing there.

There was a beat of silence before he lifted the spoon slightly.

“Can’t sleep either?”

A laugh escaped you softly despite yourself. “Guess not.”

Steve glanced down at the ice cream in his hands before holding it up sheepishly. “I was hoping this would emotionally fix me.”

“What flavor?”

“Chocolate chip cookie dough.”

You nodded approvingly. “Acceptable.”

“Thank you. I try.”

His voice was still rough with sleep, softer than usual in the quiet house. It did dangerous things to your nervous system.

You stepped further into the kitchen while he grabbed another spoon from the drawer without even asking if you wanted one. The gesture was so natural it made your chest ache a little.

You took the spoon from him quietly, your fingers brushing for half a second.

Steve climbed onto the counter instead of sitting normally, one leg dangling slightly while he peeled the lid off the ice cream. You leaned beside him a moment later, shoulder almost brushing his.

For a while, neither of you spoke.

The silence wasn’t awkward anymore. That was the thing that kept sneaking up on you during this trip. Silence with Steve used to feel charged in all the wrong ways. Full of tension and avoidance and all the things you weren’t saying.

But now it felt safe. It felt like both of you were finally too exhausted to keep pretending you didn’t understand each other.

The refrigerator hummed quietly behind you while Steve absently scraped his spoon against the carton.

Then, without looking at you, he said softly, “I’ve been thinking about coming clean.”

You frowned slightly. “About what?”

He finally looked up.

“My dad.”

Your stomach tightened instantly.

Steve stared down at the melting ice cream for a second before continuing. “Everything with the donations. The pressure. Him trying to control the program through me.” He swallowed. “All of it.”

You blinked at him.

“Steve…”

“I’m serious.”

The tone of his voice made your chest tighten.

There wasn’t any anger in it, or dramatics. His voice was just heavy with pure exhaustion

“I keep thinking about what would’ve happened if someone else had found out first,” he admitted quietly. “If someone had published it before I had the chance to say anything.”

Your throat tightened immediately because you knew exactly what he was talking about.

Steve rubbed the back of his neck, eyes fixed somewhere on the kitchen floor now. “I think maybe I deserve it.”

Your eyebrows pulled together immediately. “Deserve what?”

“To lose everything.”

The words hit so hard your chest physically hurt.

“Steve.”

“No, seriously.” His voice cracked slightly around the edges now. “Because maybe if I’d just been honest from the beginning none of this would’ve happened.”

You stared at him in disbelief.

“You think destroying your career is gonna fix this?”

He let out a humorless laugh. “I don’t know what’s gonna fix this.”

The honesty of it hurt.

Steve looked up finally, and the expression on his face almost wrecked you completely. There was no ego left in him right now. No cocky basketball captain act. Just a tired boy sitting in the middle of a dark kitchen looking like the weight of the world had finally become too heavy to carry.

“My entire life,” he said quietly, “people have looked at me and assumed things came easy for me.”

You stayed silent.

“They think because my dad has money or because I’m good at basketball that none of it actually means anything.” His jaw tightened slightly. “And now every time I think about the championship or the captain thing or any of it, all I hear is him.”

Your chest ached.

“He made you feel like none of it belongs to you,” you said softly.

Steve looked at you like he hadn’t expected you to understand that so quickly.

“Yeah,” he admitted after a second.

Silence settled again.

Then he laughed quietly to himself, bitter around the edges. “The fucked up part is I almost handed him exactly what he wanted.”

You frowned slightly. “What do you mean?”

“When I saw your notebook.” His voice dropped lower now. “I thought you saw me the same way he does.”

Your stomach twisted painfully.

“Like I was just some spoiled kid who got handed everything.” He swallowed thickly. “And I got so angry that I stopped seeing you clearly.”

The tears hit your eyes before you even realized they were there.

That was the tragedy of all this, wasn’t it?

Two people loving each other so much they accidentally destroyed everything trying to protect themselves first.

You quickly looked away, blinking hard before the tears could fully fall.

Steve noticed immediately.

“Hey,” he said softly.

You shook your head once, pressing your lips together.

“No, because you don’t get to sit here and act like you didn’t earn everything you have.”

Steve blinked slightly at the sudden sharpness in your voice.

“You are so talented,” you continued, your throat tightening painfully around the words. “Like genuinely, ridiculously talented.”

“Paparazzi—”

“No.” You looked back at him now, tears finally slipping free despite yourself. “Do you know how hard it was writing about you all season?”

His expression softened immediately.

“Because every single game I had to pretend I was objectively observing some athlete when really I was watching someone who loves the sport so much it practically bleeds out of him.” Your voice shook harder now. “You think I would’ve fallen in love with you if you weren’t good enough to deserve it?”

Steve went completely still.

You laughed weakly through the tears. “You worked for that team, Steve. I watched you work for it.”

His eyes glistened immediately.

“You stayed after practices to help freshmen. You played through injuries. You carried pressure nobody else even knew about.” Your chest ached harder with every word. “Your dad donating money doesn’t magically erase your talent.”

Steve looked away quickly then, jaw tightening.

“You can’t let him win by giving all of this up,” you whispered. “Because that’s exactly what he wants. He wants you to believe none of it belongs to you unless it came from him.”

Steve’s breathing had gone uneven now.

You could practically see him trying to hold himself together.

“He doesn’t get to take credit for who you became,” you said softly.

For a second neither of you moved.

Then Steve suddenly laughed once under his breath, though it sounded suspiciously emotional.

“You know what your problem is?” he asked quietly.

You sniffed slightly. “What?”

“You see the best in me even when I don’t deserve it.”

Your chest tightened painfully.

“You do deserve it,” you whispered.

Steve looked at you then and suddenly the air shifted.

His eyes dropped briefly to your mouth before flicking back up again, hesitant this time.

Your heart started pounding immediately.

Slowly, Steve set the ice cream carton aside before leaning in slightly.

And then he stopped, giving you every opportunity to pull away.

The fact that he stopped nearly broke your heart all over again.

Because old Steve wouldn’t have.

Old Steve would’ve acted first and thought later.

This version of him looked at you like your comfort mattered more than what he wanted.

Your breath caught softly in your chest. Then, before you could think too hard about it, you closed the distance yourself.

The kiss was devastatingly gentle.

Steve made the quietest sound against your mouth, something halfway between relief and heartbreak, and suddenly his hand was against your jaw like he couldn’t quite believe this was real.

You kissed him again before he could overthink it.

It felt nothing like the rushed almost-moments you’d shared before.

When you finally pulled apart, both of you stayed close enough that your foreheads brushed lightly together.

Steve’s eyes stayed closed for a second longer before he whispered. “I missed you so much.”

Your throat tightened painfully.

“I know.”

•

Neither of you made it back upstairs after that.

At some point you ended up curled together on the couch beneath an old blanket, Steve half sprawled against the cushions while you rested against his chest. His arm stayed wrapped tightly around you even in sleep like he was scared you’d disappear if he loosened his grip too much.

For the first time in weeks, you slept peacefully.

Which was probably why the sound of the front door slamming open a few hours later startled both of you awake instantly.

Heavy footsteps echoed through the house and you could feel Steve stiffen beneath you immediately.

Before you could register what was happening, a cold voice rang through the entryway.

“Steven?”

The second Steve heard his father’s voice, every part of him changed.

His body went rigid. His breathing practically stopped. Even the warmth that had settled into him while you slept against his chest seemed to vanish all at once, replaced by something cold.

You recognized it as fear.

Steve carefully untangled himself from you and sat up too quickly, running a hand through his messy hair while trying to shake the sleep from his expression. Beside him, your own heart had started pounding nervously in your chest.

The front door slammed shut as the heavy footsteps got closer.

You looked toward him uncertainly. “Should I…” you trailed off, eyes darting between Steve and the stairs.

“No.”

The answer came too fast.

Steve stood immediately, already looking panicked at the idea of you disappearing upstairs before his father saw you.

Steve swallowed hard before holding a hand out toward you. “Just stay with me, okay? Please.”

Your chest tightened painfully at the look on his face.

You nodded once and took his hand.

The two of you barely made it into the kitchen before a figure appeared in the doorway and suddenly you understood Steve in a way you never fully had before.

Standing there in a sharply pressed coat with exhaustion and irritation etched permanently into his face was a man who looked at his son like disappointment had become second nature to him.

Richard Harrington’s eyes landed on Steve first.

Then slid to you before immediately hardening.

Steve spoke first.

“What are you doing here?”

His father ignored the question entirely.

“I had to hear from someone else that you skipped the donor dinner last night.”

Steve’s jaw tightened slightly. “I wasn’t exactly in the mood for public appearances.”

“You don’t get to decide when you’re in the mood,” his father snapped immediately. “Not after the embarrassment you caused this family last week.”

Steve looked exhausted already, but now you could practically see him retreating into himself in real time.

“I said I was sorry.”

Richard laughed humorlessly. “Sorry doesn’t erase the fact that you blew the biggest game of your career.”

The words hit like a slap.

You glanced toward Steve instinctively.

His face stayed carefully blank.

Your chest ached.

Richard finally looked toward you again. You caught a slight hint of recognition in his eyes before he spoke again.

“And you are?”

Before you could answer, Steve spoke sharply.

“She’s with me.”

The immediate defensiveness in his voice made something flicker across his father’s face.

Richard sighed heavily, pinching the bridge of his nose like this was all just deeply exhausting for him. “Of course she is.”

Steve’s posture straightened immediately.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means,” his father said coolly, “you’ve always had a habit of letting girls distract you whenever something important is happening.”

Your stomach dropped.

Beside you, Steve’s expression darkened instantly.

“Don’t.”

“What?” Richard continued casually. “Am I wrong?”

“Yes.”

The word came hard enough to cut glass.

But his father just looked unimpressed.

“You had one job this season, Steven. One. Keep your head straight long enough to secure your future.” His eyes flicked toward you dismissively. “Instead, you’re here playing house.”

The humiliation hit you instantly even though you knew the comment wasn’t really about you.

Your arms folded instinctively tighter over yourself.

And unfortunately, Richard noticed that too.

“Nothing personal,” he said toward you, though there was absolutely nothing apologetic in his tone. “But girls like you come and go. Basketball doesn’t.”

Something in Steve snapped.

“No,” he said sharply.

His father blinked once.

Steve stepped slightly in front of you before continuing, voice suddenly shaking with anger.

“You do not get to talk about her like that.”

The kitchen went still.

Richard stared at his son for a long moment like he genuinely couldn’t believe he was being challenged right now.

Then he scoffed quietly.

“Jesus Christ.”

Steve’s breathing had gone uneven now.

“You don’t know anything about her.”

“I know enough. More than you might think.”

“No,” Steve repeated, louder this time. “You don’t.”

Your heart was hammering now because this wasn’t normal arguing anymore.

This felt deeper. Years of swallowed resentment finally starting to rupture open.

Richard crossed his arms. “You’re proving my point right now.”

“Your point?” Steve laughed sharply. “What, that I care about someone?”

“That you’re weak.”

The word landed like a gunshot.

You physically saw the impact it had on Steve.

His entire face just fell.

Tiny. Brief. Barely noticeable unless you were paying attention. And suddenly every piece of him made sense.

Every moment he’d overperformed. All the times he’d tried to seem unaffected. Every reckless decision or desperate attempt to be enough for everybody around him all the time.

Somewhere along the way, this man had convinced Steve that love was conditional. That worth was conditional. He was made to believe that failure made him disposable.

Your chest hurt so badly you almost couldn’t breathe through it.

Steve looked away briefly, jaw flexing hard.

“I played through an injured ankle.”

Richard shrugged coldly. “And?”

“And I still showed up.”

“You still lost.”

The silence afterward was devastating.

Steve blinked slowly.

In that moment you suddenly understood why he’d looked at you with that awful smirk in the hotel room. Why hurting you had felt easier than risking vulnerability.

This was what he’d grown up with.

Love that turned cruel the second he disappointed someone.

Your eyes burned immediately.

Richard sighed impatiently. “You’re lucky I’ve spent years building relationships with this athletic department, because another performance like that and they would’ve buried you.”

Steve laughed softly then.

But it sounded wrong.

“You really believe that, huh?”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

Steve finally looked back at him fully.

And for the first time since Richard walked into the house, you saw something in Steve’s expression other than fear.

“You think everything good in my life exists because of you.”

Richard’s eyes narrowed slightly. “Careful.”

“No,” Steve continued, voice trembling now. “Because I’m starting to realize how insane this actually is.”

“Steven—”

“You donated money to a program and spent years making me feel like that somehow means I didn’t earn my place there.”

“You benefited from my connections.”

“I benefited from basketball.”

His father scoffed. “You think talent alone gets people opportunities?”

“No,” Steve snapped. “I think I spent years killing myself to prove I deserved the opportunities you kept holding over my head.”

The room went completely silent.

Your chest was tight enough to hurt.

Steve looked furious now. Devastated too, somehow.

“You wanna know the worst part?” he continued. “For a while, I actually believed you.”

Richard stared at him coldly. “You’re being dramatic.”

Steve laughed in disbelief.

“Dramatic?”

“You lost one game and suddenly you’re spiraling.”

“It’s not about the game!”

The shout echoed through the kitchen.

You flinched slightly.

Steve immediately looked guilty for it before dragging a hand through his hair again, breathing hard.

“It’s about the fact that nothing is ever enough for you,” he said more quietly now. “Not one thing.”

His father looked entirely unmoved.

“You’re emotional because you’re embarrassed.”

“No,” Steve said. “I’m emotional because I’m tired.”

Richard scoffed again, eyes sliding toward you dismissively. “And I’m sure she’s helping with that.”

That did it.

Steve stepped forward instantly.

“Don’t talk about her again.”

“Or what?”

The challenge in his father’s voice made the entire room feel dangerous.

Steve’s hands curled into fists at his sides.

“Or I swear to God I’ll tell the university everything.”

Silence.

Even you stopped breathing.

Richard’s face darkened immediately.

“What did you just say?”

“You heard me.”

“You ungrateful little—”

“No.” Steve’s voice cracked sharply now. “I am done letting you act like you own me.”

Your heart was pounding violently.

Because suddenly this wasn’t just emotional anymore.

This was nuclear.

Richard stepped closer slowly. “You think exposing me hurts only me?”

Steve swallowed hard.

“It hurts you too.”

“I know.”

“You lose basketball. Your scholarships disappear. Your future disappears.”

Steve’s jaw tightened painfully.

He glanced toward you and something in his expression shifted completely.

“I almost lost her because of this,” he said quietly.

Your breath caught.

Richard looked unimpressed. “And?”

Steve laughed bitterly.

“And you still don’t get it.”

The silence that followed felt suffocating.

Then Richard straightened his coat calmly like the conversation bored him now.

“You’re making a mistake.”

“No,” Steve said softly. “I think I’ve been making the same mistake my whole life.”

For a second, something almost human flickered across his father’s face.

Then it vanished faster than it arrived.

Richard looked toward you one final time.

“You should be careful,” he said coolly. “Steve gets attached to things that make him feel better about himself.”

Your stomach twisted immediately, but before you could even react, Steve stepped fully between you.

“Get out.”

The words came low and shaking.

Richard stared at him.

“Excuse me?”

“You heard me.”

“You’re seriously defending this girl to your own father? In my home?”

Steve didn’t even hesitate.

“Your home? You haven’t spent an actual night here in years.”

The answer hit the room like lightning.

Your heart physically stuttered in your chest.

Even Richard looked slightly thrown by how immediate it was.

Steve’s breathing had gone uneven again now, emotion bleeding through every word despite how hard he was trying to hold himself together.

“She’s the only thing that’s felt real in my life in months,” he said quietly. “So yeah. I’m choosing her.”

Your eyes burned instantly.

Richard looked between the two of you for a long moment before letting out a cold laugh and walking out the door. It slammed behind him hard enough to shake the walls.

For several seconds, neither of you moved.

Steve still stood between you and the doorway like his body hadn’t realized the threat was over yet. His chest rose and fell unevenly beneath the thin gray t-shirt he’d thrown on, shoulders tensed so tightly it looked painful. You could see the imprint his father’s presence had left on him in real time. The rigid set of his jaw, the way his fingers flexed at his sides, the slight tremor in his breathing he was clearly trying to suppress before you noticed it.

But you had noticed it.

You noticed everything about him now.

Steve finally turned around.

And the second his eyes landed on you, the anger left his face entirely.

What replaced it was somehow worse. It was a thin line between shame and embarrassment.

It looked like he hated that you had witnessed that part of his life.

His throat bobbed slightly before he looked away first.

“I’m sorry.”

The words came out rough.

You frowned immediately. “Steve—”

“No.” He shook his head once, quick and frustrated, dragging a hand back through his hair. “Don’t do that thing where you try to make this okay. You shouldn’t have had to see that.”

His voice cracked slightly around the last word, and your chest tightened painfully.

For the first time since meeting Steve Harrington, you realized something terrifyingly simple: no one had probably ever been there to comfort him after his father verbally attacked him.

The realization settled heavily inside your chest as Steve leaned both hands against the kitchen counter, head dropping forward for a moment like he was trying to physically hold himself together.

“I just…” He exhaled shakily. “Jesus Christ.”

You stayed quiet.

Steve laughed softly then, but there was nothing humorous in the sound.

“That was probably insane for you to watch.”

You realized with disbelief that the thing that seemed to upset him most wasn’t what had been said to him.

It was that you’d had to hear it.

Slowly, carefully, you stepped closer.

“Steve.”

He still wouldn’t look at you.

“You don’t have to apologize for him.”

“Yeah,” he muttered bitterly, “well apparently he’s still my father, so.”

The self-loathing woven into the sentence made your stomach twist.

Without really thinking about it, you reached for his wrist gently.

Steve went still beneath your touch.

“You know what the worst part is?” he asked quietly after a moment.

Your fingers tightened slightly around his arm. “What?”

“When he talks to me like that…” His eyes shut briefly. “Part of me still feels like I’m 16 again trying to convince him I’m worth being proud of.”

The words hit you so hard you physically felt it.

Suddenly everything about Steve made sense in a way it never fully had before. The need to perform. The constant pressure he put on himself. The parties, his image, the desperate need to be liked by everyone around him.

It was never a confidence thing for him. It was purely survival.

“Steve,” you whispered softly, “look at me.”

For a second you didn’t think he would.

Then finally his eyes lifted to yours.

He looked emotionally exhausted in the way people look when they’ve spent years carrying something heavy by themselves.

“You are not your father.”

His jaw tightened instantly.

“You don’t know that.”

“Yes,” you said firmly, “I do.”

Silence settled heavily between you.

Steve swallowed hard before shaking his head faintly. “You really shouldn’t be this nice to me after everything I put you through.”

The honesty of it nearly destroyed you. Knowing that the same crushing guilt he carried around constantly now was still lingering in his mind, haunting him.

You stepped closer until barely any distance remained between you.

“You hurt me,” you admitted quietly.

Steve physically flinched.

“Yet you also spent weeks hating yourself for it.”

He stared at you silently.

“And after seeing him?” you glanced toward the front door. “I think I understand why.”

Steve’s entire expression shifted at that.

For a long moment, neither of you said anything.

Then finally Steve looked away and muttered quietly, “I don’t want you thinking I’m some tragic charity case now.”

You let out the smallest breath of laughter.

“That’s what you took from this conversation?”

“I’m serious.”

“You know,” you said softly, “you’re allowed to let people take care of you sometimes.”

Steve’s eyes flicked back to yours immediately.

The vulnerability there nearly took your breath away.

It was terrifying, realizing how much softer he’d become with you.

How much less guarded.

The Steve from campus would’ve laughed this conversation off three different times by now. He would’ve hidden behind sarcasm or charm or flirtation.

This Steve just looked at you like he was trying to figure out whether he deserved kindness at all.

And somehow that version of him was the one you loved most.

“We should probably head back today,” you said quietly.

Reality settled back over the room immediately.

Real life.

Steve nodded slowly. “Yeah.”

•

The drive back to campus that afternoon felt completely different than the drive to Hawkins had.

The sky outside remained overcast the entire drive, soft gray clouds stretching endlessly above the highway while Steve sat beside you with one arm resting against the open window. The wind pushed through his hair carelessly, occasionally lifting strands across his forehead before he shoved them back absentmindedly.

You caught yourself looking at him more than once. It wasn’t intentional. Your brain just kept drifting toward him now that things felt different.

Steve noticed eventually.

“You keep staring at me.”

“I literally don’t.”

“You literally do.”

You rolled your eyes slightly, focusing back on the road. “You’re being dramatic.”

“I’m observant.”

“You’re annoying.”

Steve smiled faintly to himself before turning slightly in his seat. “You still came all the way to Hawkins for me.”

“I was worried,” you admitted quietly.

“I know.”

The sincerity in his response made your chest ache.

For a while after that, the car settled into comfortable silence. Steve eventually took over music despite your complaints about his objectively terrible taste, and somewhere outside Indianapolis you found yourself laughing quietly when he started aggressively defending some old rock song like his life depended on it.

“Did you just sigh during the guitar solo like some middle aged divorced dad?” The words barely came out, swallowed by the laughter you couldn’t seem to stop.

Steve looked deeply offended. “This is why opening up emotionally around you is dangerous.”

You laughed again.

And the sound seemed to affect him instantly.

Steve looked over at you so fast it almost startled you.

“There you are,” he murmured softly.

Your heartbeat stumbled embarrassingly hard.

Even the way he said things now felt different too.

The realization followed you the rest of the drive back to campus.

By the time the university buildings finally came into view again hours later, something resembling hope had settled in the center of your chest.

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

a/n: i actually hate this chapter but i just need them to be fixed so i can rip them apart again wait what who said that ??

taglist: @veeweepeeknee @blackgurlieee @sincerellie @mhayes777 @daddyavesxx @napofaprincess @mj202323 @swirledyouintoallmypoems @solynoche @hstlut @1iliaanxz @turtlamour @superfreaksteve @beezusvreeland @bookmarkedmen @lacywithdrawal @ultimate--daydreamer @jeokeery @biologicallyyours @skelkitty @skkeletonns @exooojongdaeee @djolover4ever @softstaticclub @eller41 @ilovest3veh4rr1ngt0n @kurtsw7rld96 @jorkingtodjo @mortalselfprojected @dude-where-s-my-tardis @p-nkj @beelzebzb @dramallama9 @ttttt127

[scoopsahoydjo]

HOLD ON WHEN ARE Y COMING BACK.?

posted this before i saw this ask but MAY 11 !!

[scoopsahoydjo]

if anyone still cares:

OFF THE RECORD returns may 11 (:

working in the music industry is all fun and games until you’re too busy to update your steve harrington fanfic🫩

but i promise, i’ll make it worth the wait bc there’s still SO much story left to tell <3

[scoopsahoydjo]

Off the Record | Steve Harrington

masterlist

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

A modern AU about your experience documenting the team captain of university’s basketball team, Steve Harrington

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

•. Intro

I. Tip Off

II. Full Coverage

III. Safe House

IV. Damage Control

V. Half Time

VI. Conflict of Interest

VII. Out of Bounds

VIII. Technical Foul

IX. Offense vs Defense

X. Time Out

XI. Overtime

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

COMMENT BELOW TO BE ADDED TO THE TAGLIST FOR THIS STORY <3

[scoopsahoydjo]

pushing this back out now that the busiest month of my life is over (shoutout bieberchella) and i can get back to writing angsty steve !!