Chapter Summary: eighteen months after the start of quarantine, things change, for better or worse.
Fic Summary: You and Steve can't stand to be around one another... but you have to learn to coexist and raise your goddaughter together in the face of the apocalypse.
You would never admit it to Steve, but you had begun to wonder if the crawls had ever been worth it. It had been nearly eighteen months, and there hadn't been a peep. No demogorgons, no demodogs, no demobats, and, most importantly, no Vecna.
Quarantine was beginning to feel like a tightening noose. People pretended things were normal so that they could stomach it, like holding your nose to eat something repulsive. But there were cracks, just as deep as the fissures in Hawkins.
Luxury goods were few and far between. It had been months since you'd gotten your hands on a sleeve of Oreos, and even if they were delivered, someone always managed to get there first. Potato chips, candy, cosmetics, condoms⌠catching a restock was like winning the lottery.
Lately, it felt like your luck had run out in more ways than one.
"Steve," you whined, looking up at him with sheer exasperation as you placed an antenna headband into Samantha's hair. She grappled with your hands, smacking yours away and tugging at the springs that made the felt balls on the end wobble around. "It's Halloween, can't you tell Jonathan to drive the van?"
Steve sighed and knelt beside Sammie so he could push the headband back while her attention was split. He clipped it down with barrettes and kissed her forehead.
"I really wish I could, but Jonathan and Nancy are working on maps, or something."
You huffed, annoyed, because that was a bullshit reason and everyone else would know that too. "Well, Lucas and Mike both have their drivers licenses," you pressed. "And Dustin should technically have his, but he keeps skipping his stupid drivers ed classes. They're all very capable teenagers."
Steve made a face as he looked up at you, brows drawn together. "Okay, one, Mike and Lucas are on lookout as usual. And two, what if I don't go, something goes wrong, and they're out there alone?" He pushes, an argument you'd heard a million times over, each time a crawl interfered with your plans.
Date night, dinner with your parents, holidays. All of it could so easily get foiled by Nancy Wheeler ringing the house to say the military was doing a burn.
What did the burns do? What did the crawls accomplish? Lately, it seemed like absolutely nothing except stealing Steve away when you needed him.
"What if it's totally fine, nothing happens, and it's another huge waste of time?" You argued, lifting Sam onto your hip so you could carry her into the living room. Steve trudged behind, following you downstairs and into the living room.
You'd had this argument before, and you both knew that it pissed you off to no end. Because you knew that Steve wanted to stay with you and Sam, and you knew that he could ask, but he wouldn't. You had told him before that he was surprisingly selfless, but this was just needless.
Steve stood behind you with his arms crossed, watching you pose Sammie in front of the Halloween decorations on the fireplace for pictures. In between making silly noises so she'd look at the camera, he would huff and watch you through narrowed eyes. "This sucks for me too, baby," he insisted, and when you didn't respond, his jaw ticked and he pressed on. "You're acting like I want to miss tonight. It's totally unfair. I helped you make her outfit, I helped make our matching costumes, and you actually think I'm bailing because I don't care, or something?"
He ran a hand through his hair as you picked up Sam, who was getting uncomfortably heavy in your arms as she neared her second birthday. With a tiny whine, she snuggled against your shoulder, clearly feeling the tension between the two of you.
"I'm not fighting you about this," you said finally, which was your best way of communicating that you were pissed, but didn't want to drag it out in front of Sam. "Go on the crawl, and when you all come up dry again, don't tell me that you wished that you had stayed with us."
Steve left at five, with a quick peck on Sam's cheek and your forehead. He tried to rub his thumb between your brows and smooth out the crinkles there, but you narrowed your eyes at him and pulled back. "Don't be cute," you warned, and then his expression fell and you felt your heart thawing out. "Just be safe tonight, okay? It's a holiday, so the MPs are probably out in droves."
He nodded and slipped out to the driveway. Already, kids were beginning to roam the streets, seeking out the bigger houses with hopes that they might have managed to get their hands on some candy.
Your parents' porch light was off, so you figured that they hadn't had any luck either. Whatever candy there was, if any at all, had been snatched up before you'd even caught wind of it hitting the shelves. The likelihood of Sam getting any candy was abysmal, and, frankly, even if she did get any, it wouldn't even be for her, it would be for you.
Claudia joined you for the neighborhood walk, but the number of dark houses was a total mood killer. Most kids were ambling around like the living dead, trying to find a house that still had stock of whatever treat they'd prepared. You would wait in line at those rare doors with Claudia, only to be told they were saving their treats for bigger kids this year who could actually eat it.
"Well, this is no fun," Claudia said as you looked into Sam's bucket at the end of your fourth street. She had accumulated two oatmeal raisin cookies (from Claudia), a pair of crayons tied with a ribbon, a bookmark, a bag of trail mix, and a popcorn ball. "If Halloween is this bad, I can't even imagine Thanksgiving in these conditions."
You grimaced, not even wanting to think about it. Last year had already been rough, but with restocks at the store getting worse and worse, you couldn't even be sure you'd be able to throw together a decent meal at all. How long did you have until Hawkins was on rations?
"Maybe it'll all be over by then," you said, giving a half-smile. You wished you believed what you were saying, but you were just kidding yourself. You figured the military was in the same grim situation as your friendsâ searching futilely for something that wasn't there.
You gave up on Halloween after walking down a block of dark houses. Sam was asleep in her stroller anyway. The felt spots that Steve had glued on her little red crewneck were peeling off, fluttering in the breeze.
By the time Steve got home, you were dozing on the couch, lit by the broadcast of The Birds on a local station. You stirred a bit when you felt the blanket being pulled up around your shoulders, squinting up at the blurry shape of your boyfriend.
"What time is it?" You murmured, blinking until the sight of him became clear.
"I didn't mean to wake you up," he said, then glanced down at his watch. "10:15. Not too late."
You sat up, pulling the blanket up around your shoulders. It was already so cold in Hawkins, and you were longing for the heat of summer that you'd spent months complaining about. "Trick or treating was a total bust," you admitted with a sigh. "How was the crawl?"
Steve sat down beside you on the couch, picking at a loose thread on the blanket. "Well⌠Vecna is definitely not in sector H2," he said with a sidelong glance at you. "But⌠Murray smuggled something in for us."
You sat up, eyes wide as he pulled out a plastic pumpkin bucket filled with candy. You exhaled slowly at the sight and swallowed. "Is that all he brought?"
Steve's brows furrowed and he nodded. "Uh, yeah," he said with a teasing grin. "This is a ton of candy, baby. Don't be ungrateful."
You brought a smile to your lips and took a Krackel from the bag. "I'm not ungrateful," you insisted, trying to play off your disappointment. "I just asked him for a bag of Doritos two weeks ago and I'm still waiting."
Steve shrugged and grabbed a Mr. Goodbar. "Yeah, well, you know how he is," he said. "He likes to make you wait so you forget what you asked for and he can play hero. Here, put your feet in my lap."
You obliged, leaning back against the throw pillows as Steve moved your socked feet into his lap and began to rub them carefully. You sighed, peering over at him as you melted into the cushions. You couldn't even stay mad at him for going on the crawl, because your own plans had proved equally futile. Besides, he was so eager to get back on your good side.
It made you feel a little worse about lying. Well, not lying, exactly. Withholding the truth⌠actually, withholding a few truths. But that was fine, really. No one is ever totally, completely honest in a relationship.
"How's that feel?" He asked, and you hummed softly as his thumbs pressed into the arch of your foot. They were kind of sore from walking all the way to Dustin's street, then all the way around that branch of the suburbs.
"Really good," you sighed, melting into the cushions. "Next year, you're taking Sam and I'm handing out candy." He laughed and shook his head, but didn't argue. You just hoped that everything would be wrapped up by then.
"Next year," Steve mused, the corner of his mouth twitching down for a moment as he stared at the screen. You wanted to pull at that threadâ just unravel his brain before you so you could know everything that he was thinking. His breath caught like he might have wanted to say something, but he held back.
It didn't matter what either of you wantedâ your reality was completely out of your hands. A freaky monster could burst through your wall and rip you to pieces at any time, and you couldn't even stop it. No amount of crawls seemed to be able to stop it, but the party was convinced that if they stopped pushing that rock up the hill, it'd roll back and crush them all.
"I'm really sorry I missed tonight," he said, and you shivered as his hands moved up your calves, thumbs gliding along the muscle. You sighed softly, visibly deflating. "I don't like when you're mad at me. Things have just felt off for the past few weeks."
"I'm not mad, baby," you murmured, guilt itching under your skin. "I'm just tired, and stir crazy, and I hate my job, and I'm really fucking jealous that you get to, like, fuck around at the station all day."
Steve made a face. "I told you that if you wanted, I could get a job." Which was technically true, but practically out of the question. The party would blow a fuse if Steve ditched his responsibilities at the Squawk, even though Jonathan was plenty capable of running sound effects.
And it was the way he worded it too. If you wanted, like he had to pin it all on you. Of course you wanted him to get a job, so there wasn't so much pressure on your back to schmooze for tips so you could buy food and clothes for Sam. And you were lucky. Steve still got an allowance, and you lived in a fancy house rent free.
You'd just been feeling so angry lately. At the circumstances, at your finances, at the constant stream of people pulling Steve away and away and away. And maybe that was putting a strain on the two of you, a coldness.
Steve stood behind you in the mirror, watching as you brushed your teeth and got ready for bed. You could feel his gaze as much as you could see it, like a shock of electricity every time your gaze met his in the glass.
"Steve," you said firmly, but with the toothbrush in your mouth it came out more like shteef.
When you leaned down to spit the foam out, he leaned over you, kissing between your shoulder blades. You sighed softly, eyes fluttering shut as he pressed his forehead to the top of your spine.
"My beautiful girl," he murmured. His hands came down on either side of you on the counter, caging you in beneath him. He was so warm where he pressed against you, a living furnace. "Let me make it up to you."
"Not tonight, baby," you said softly, turning to kiss the side of his face. "I'm exhausted."
And, to Steve's credit, he never pushed, never demanded. He kissed your shoulder tenderly, then kissed your temple as he stood. "I love you," he said, and you shivered as he combed his fingers through your hair. "I promise this'll all be over soon."
A sad smile twitched on your lips. You'd been wanting the quarantine to end for over a year, so why did the idea of things changing soon feel like a dagger in your gut? This was you and Steve in a fancy house that you knew you'd never have been able to afford on your own. You and Steve and your little peanut, who was only ever going to get bigger and bigger. It was the strange circumstances that made you feel like you were living your life in a snow globeâ this little family disturbed by an invisible creature shaking things up.
You wanted things to change, you wanted them to stay the same. And, above all, you felt uncomfortably confused about how you felt about anything at all.
On Tuesday, you stared at the ceiling for a while before you had to finally get up and grab Sam. You watched the ceiling fan whirling lazily, always on even in the winter since Steve ran so hot. When he left, he had jostled the bed a bit and woken you up, and you hadn't managed to fall back asleep, which was a total bummer.
Your thoughts weren't very Vecna-safe lately, which you were trying to find ways to remedy. You'd grabbed some sort of grief-counseling, depression cure book from the secondhand store a month back, but there wasn't anything of use inside. Until you found one that covered losing your best friends in a tragic, inter-dimensional disaster, getting custody of their baby, and being trapped inside of your town while holding the secret of said inter-dimensional disaster, you'd be on your own.
It was just something about the distance. The night before their date, with all the crazy shit going on in town, you'd hunkered down in their living room and spent the night on their couch. You watched stupid slashers that Tommy had picked and ate some weird casserole that Carol had made.
You couldn't even remember what it was anymore, even though you'd made fun of her failed attempt at being Julia Child for that entire night. You couldn't remember the story Tommy was telling you about work, or why he'd been mad at his Dad that weekend.
The picture of Carol in your mind was getting fuzzy. Sometimes she was your Carolâ the one who'd grinned at you in the doorway and told you not to wait up as she climbed into the passenger's seat. And sometimes she was different. She was Carol from Sophomore year, or summer camp. Blurred around the edges, overexposed like she was shot on bad film.
Steve had found you crying in the closet in March, flipping through your photo albums like memorizing her face again was an act of penance. He sat next to you on the floor and pointed to his favorite pictures, asking you about certain days until you were laughing more than you were crying.
He was good about that, but there were some things he just couldn't fix. Not for you, not for Dustin, not for anyone. Not yet, at least.
Sam stirred over the monitorâ you could hear the creak of her standing up and leaning on the crib bars over the shitty speakers, and you were paranoid that she'd fall through one day and hurt herself. With a sigh, you stood and trudged upstairs.
She was waiting for you when you opened the door, her hair messy from sleep and sticking to her chubby face. The gloominess of the morning melted away as you took her into your arms and planted a kiss on her forehead.
"Can you say, good morning?" You encouraged as you carried her over to the changing table. "Good morning, mama." She babbled something close enough, which you took as a win.
Mornings were always good. You made breakfast and watched Sesame Street together. Even though it was a bit chilly outside, you both went for a walk and pet Ms. Phillips' golden retriever when it poked its head through the fence.
As the afternoon rolled around, you got her fed, changed, and loaded into the car so that you could drive her to the station and drop her off with Steve.
Work continued to be a sore spot. It was far from glamorousâ a waitressing gig at a little diner just outside of the military containment zone. But it was free lunch, a meager wage, and tips. You'd gotten good at guilting people into leaving you a few bills on the tabletop.
Nancy and Robin were already standing outside of the station when you arrivedâ arms crossed, gaze fixed skyward. You unloaded Sam and joined them, trying to follow their gaze. "What's going on, why's the station dead?" You asked. Sam reached over for Nancy, tugging on her hair for attention until she finally relented and moved her into her arms.
"Something with the remote radio head," Robin said, shielding the sun with her hand as she looked up at the tower. Before you could ask, hey, what's a remote radio head, you craned your neck and saw Steve and Jonathan racing up the ladders to the top.
Jesus Christ. "I'm gonna be late for my shift, and Mr. Matthews already hates me," you groaned, crossing your arms as you watched Steve rush up the ladder.
The height alone made you feel queasy, and you had to turn away from the sight before you sympathetically puked. In the distance, a large truck kicked up dust on the road. You shielded your eyes and squinted, brows furrowing.
"He's back early," you noted with a quick glance back at Nancy.
A shadow crossed her face as her expression went steely. Her throat bobbed as she swallowed. "Yeah, he is."
While Nancy and Robin hurried over to greet Murray, you took Sam back into your arms and watched anxiously as Steve pressed a button, or something, then raced Jonathan back down. He smiled at the sight of you waiting and jogged over even though he was already out of breath.
"Murray's back," you said as he took Sam into his arms. He greeted you with a quick peck on the lips, and only then seemed to process what you said.
"That's really soon," he said with a small frown. With Sam on his hip, he hurried over, and you could do little more than follow along to where Murray was already handing out his presents.
Boppers for Steve, Telemetry tags for the next crawl, a cassette for Jonathan andâ "Doritos for the lady." You accepted the bag, already opened and chip-clipped back together, with a tight lipped smile. "I hope you'll forgive me, they really tested my self control."
A frown turned at your lips at his crushing lack of subtlety. With an exaggerated wink in your direction, he moved onto Nancy, with smuggled in details of the military's premature venture into the Upside Down. Steve, if puzzled by the fact that Murray had seemingly eaten your gift, said nothing. The group's focus was now on a surprise military burn, which meant you had the chance to slip away unquestioned.
Hastily, you kissed Steve's cheek and nodded towards the car. "Steve, I've gotta go," you said, your grip death-tight on the bag of chips. "I can't be late again, and I'm alreadyâŚ" you glanced at your watch and swore colorfully. With an exasperated sigh, Steve covered Sam's ears. "Fuck, I'm really late. You'll call the diner if something comes up, yeah?"
Before he could even respond, you had kissed Samantha's forehead and jogged to the car. "Great, perfect, I'll see you tonight!"
The only reason you'd been able to get a job at the diner was because Tina's family owned the place and her mom had always had a soft spot for you. It didn't, however, protect you from ire whenever you darted in fifteen minutes after your shift was supposed to start.
"This is the third time you've been late this month," Mr. Matthews lectured as you darted in the back door and grabbed your server book as you clocked in. "We have people waiting, get out there."
"I'm sorry, I'm sorry," you murmured, giving your best pleading look as you hit the floor. "Samantha had a rough morning, I promise I got here as quickly as I could."
Working was a great way to turn your brain off and slip back into the easy charm you'd carried yourself with in high school. The charisma and saccharine sweetness you'd used to get out of any trouble that Carol got you in⌠most of the time.
At least you weren't being fake to the sweet old people at the tables. They gushed over the (strategically placed) Polaroid of Sam you kept clipped to your book, right in their sight line as you took their order. Everyone was a regular, especially in quarantine where options were limited, so you milked their familiarity and empathy over your plight for your monetary benefit.
By the time the lunch rush ended, your feet hurt and your body ached as you sat at the corner booth and picked at a turkey club. The tinny speakers of your Walkman played a new mix that Steve had made. Songs for you, Fall '87.
None of the songs were actually from Fall of '87, lots of them weren't even from the eighties at all. So you listened to Mrs. Robinson and wondering if lying by omission was just as bad as bold faced lying.
The restaurant was pretty dead, which meant you could run out to the car, grab the test, and lock yourself in the employees bathroom for the next thirty minutes. If you wanted to, that was. Which you absolutely didn't.
That left taking it at home and finding thirty minutes alone that Steve wouldn't question you about, or burst in for. You loved Steve a lot, but he could be clingy when he wanted to be, which was often.
"Hey, your loverboy is on the phone, says it's a babysitting emergency?"
You sighed and stood, offering a quick apology to Mr. Matthews as you shut yourself into the back office and put the receiver to your ear. "Babysitting emergency, huh?" You asked. "A bad one?"
Babysitting emergency was the easiest cover for Steve to call with any upside down related news, because he'd never call watching Sam babysitting, and he was competent enough to figure things out without having to ask.
Steve sighed, and you could just picture him leaning against the grimy fridge in the station's kitchen and running his hands through his hair. "Mhmm, seems like it," he said. "I mean, I didn't think so, 'cause it's just the sector that has the Circuit City and Bradley's, but Nancy and the kids think it's pretty important. Y'know, they think every crawl is the one."
You chewed your lip and exhaled slowly. "Alright, just radio me tonight if you need me. I'll come and get Sam after my shift, and I can bring you over something to eat while you're driving around if you want."
"My usual?" When you hummed in affirmation he gave a dramatic sigh. "I wish you could come with me tonight. We can have Claudia watch Sam, get some alone time. I could make up for bailing on Halloween."
You snorted and rolled your eyes. "I'm not allowed to go on crawls with you anymore, remember?" You said. "I mean, god forbid we try to pass the time."
Steve laughed, and you felt an easy smile splitting your features. There was something about just hearing his voice that made your life feel a little more pleasant, despite every single complication that seemed to stack up against you.
"Ugh, I should get back," you sighed, even though you made no move to end the call. "I love you, baby."
"Yeah, I love you too. I'll see you after your shift."
Working as a waitress had never been your dream. Carol had done a stint of food service at Benny's before he'd died, and you always relished in the discounts and freebies she'd given while you loitered at the counter during her shifts, but you didn't respect it very much.
Summer between Sophomore and Junior year, she pulled strings with Benny to get you a job, but you'd resisted with a wrinkled nose and an insistence that you didn't want to smell like deep fryers all day. It went over about as well as it deserved to.
Both of you fought constantly over stupid, petty bullshit. When she spilled beer on your favorite suede jacket, or when you knocked over a bottle of red nail polish on her carpet. Anything could blow up between you two, but it didn't usually have the staying power.
But that fight hadn't been stupid. You sat on her bed and ate the food she brought back from her job and talked down on it like it was beneath you. She thought you were a spoiled brat who didn't know anything about what it was like to have to work for a living⌠and you got defensive because she was right.
You weren't like Steve, whose parents gave love in tithes. A couple of hundred dollar bills on the counter when they left town, an automatic deposit in the bank account. But you had been raised to see yourself as better than being a waitress or a shopgirl.
Why would you have to work when they could provide anything you needed? Actually, didn't it make them look bad if their little girl was waiting tables or folding clothes? Unbecoming.
You walked to your car after your shift with mustard staining your crewneck and the stench of deep fryer clinging to your hair. You reached into the Doritos bag and felt your stomach drop as you felt the cardboard of the box against your fingers. With a hard swallow, you skirted it and grabbed a chip instead.
It was late, so you figured you'd get a couple of hours with Sam awake, then a couple of hours of privacy while Steve was on the crawl. That was good. That gave you time, and it gave you a delay.
The squawk was buzzing with activity when you pulled up. Your nose wrinkled at the boxes of ammunition on the floor, the schematics on tables and drawn out on white boards. Sam was partitioned off away from it, closed into the manager's office with Steve, playing with My Little Ponies across the desk.
You knocked on the window and he looked up with a smile, giving an easy wave before he scooped up Sam, her toys, and joined you in the fray.
"This is crazy," you said with a nervous laugh. "Has it been like this all day?"
"Yeah, and Henderson's a no-show," he said with an eye roll. "Y'know, that kid is really on my last nerve. The attitude, the snark. And now he's bailing on a crawl?"
You eased Sam into your arms and shook your head. "Well, that's not really like him," you said with a frown. "Is he okay? Did you call Clâ"
"Claudia thinks that he's with Mike. You drove by the cemetery on the way here, did you�" You shook your head and he sighed. "Well, he'd better show up. I don't want to be stuck in the car with Byers. You sure you can't find a sitter and ride around with me?"
You laughed and shook your head. "Keep it in your pants," you teased. "And can you not be a dickhead to Jonathan, please?"
He had the audacity to look abashed. "Hey, he's the one who has the problem with me," he said, his pitch raising with defensiveness. "I'd like to see you drive around with Mr. doom and gloom all night. 'Steve, change the tape, this song sucks. Steve, I don't want to listen to The Bulls. Steve stop chewing so loud.'"
A scoff escaped your lips. "Oh, boohoo, poor baby." He rolled his eyes and kissed your forehead. "Your dinner's on the couch, hot and greasy."
"Love you, keep the walkie on in case I get bored." He slapped your ass about as subtly as he could in a room full of people. You pecked his lips once, twice, and grabbed Sam's diaper bag by the door on your way out.
One thing that you hated about winter was the darkness. As you unloaded Sam from the car in the driveway, you felt hyper-aware of the night around youâ encroaching, suffocating. The strangest feeling that something was out there watching you.
You didn't know why, but your heart thrummed in your chest, the strangest tugging feeling behind your ribs. Instinct, pure and primal, that made you hurry inside and lock the door.
It's just because of the crawl, you told yourself. Because Steve is occupied, and everyone seemed so serious, and it's so soon after the last, and you're all going stir crazy and hoping that it's the one.
But you didn't hope that it was the last, because that would mean they found Vecna, which would put them all in danger. But at the same time, you wanted it all to be over. It was a dizzying contradiction that made your brain lock up. Steve had walked out of each brush with the Upside Down with new scars, you didn't want to see what would happen this time.
Crawl 36, fifteen months since the first. Eleven months of dating Steve, officially. Eighteen months of Sam.
It was crazy how much older she felt than this time last year. There she was, walking freely, talking semi-coherently, able to play pretend with a toy kitchen and keep herself occupied. Last year, she'd been mostly-wordless, ate mush, and could hardly stand without wobbling.
She liked to play by herself, sometimes. She'd be pretending with spare pots and pans and wooden foods, and when you'd try to join you she'd give you this incredulous look, like you were in the way. But other times she'd be so clingy and affectionateâ curling at your side on the couch, pleading for another story⌠and another one⌠and another one⌠and just one more.
She was as spoiled as a little girl growing up in Quarantine could be. You and Steve wouldn't have it any other way.
By nine, she was dozing at your side on the couch, long eyelashes fluttering as she fought sleep. Her face was awash in pastels as you both watched the Care Bears movie for what had to have been the hundredth time. She had her favorites, even if you and Steve had tried to get her to love the Muppet Movie as much as you did.
"Ready to go to bed, Peanut?" You asked, rubbing her back gently. She shook her head, but couldn't fight the yawn that escaped at the mention of sleep. "Yeah, I think you are. Should we go get our jammies?"
After a moment's hesitation, she nodded and looped her arms around your neck so that you could carry her upstairs. Steve hated the staircase, and had considered moving Sam's room into his dad's old room multiple times to keep from hauling her up and down.
Those stairs were the reason that Steve had installed a permanent baby gate in her doorway, so in case she did get out of her crib, she wouldn't get far enough to hurt herself. As soon as you put her down, she ran to her dresser and pulled out a pair of pajamas.
"These," she said, her words coming out more like deese on lips that were still learning how to say what she wanted. As a second thought, she hurried to her bookshelf to get her favorite bedtime story⌠then another. "These."
Bossy. You smiled and knelt down to help get her ready for bed. She was a fun age, where she was starting to have a big personality and the words to express it. All of her expressions were purely Steve, and she'd started copying his hands-on-hips stance when she was feeling particularly grumpy.
When she was all settled, you pulled her into your lap and opened the first book. With each glance down at her, you watched her eyes grow heavier and heavier, until she was fighting the heavy lids closing over her eyes.
Halfway through Baby Fozzie is Afraid of the Dark, Sam was dozing against your chest. Over the past few months, you'd become an expert at getting her into the crib without waking her up. With a soft shush as she stirred in your arms, you laid her down and pulled her quilt over her to keep her warm. Around her, muppet babies and care bears stood sentry.
The crawl was going to go well, no one would get hurt, and you and Sam were perfectly safe. But⌠maybe you'd sleep in her room tonight.
Steve called you on the walkie while you made a late-night cup of tea. As his voice rang over the speakers, you jumped onto the counter and sat cross-legged. "Mhmm?"
"Dustin was a no-show," he said in lieu of greeting. "I mean, what a little asshole."
You shrugged, nails tapping on the plastic casing of the radio. "He probably has a good reason, Steve. Like, what if he's dead in a ditch somewhere? You'd feel awful."
Steve scoffed. "Well, he'd better be, otherwise I'll make sure he is before the night's over." You rolled your eyes at his dramatics and swirled your spoon around the hot tea, watching the sugar granules inside dance around. "How'd Sam do?"
"Good," you replied. "She's always good, you know that. She just went down for the night, and I'm about to break out the Atari and beat your score on Ms. Pac-Man. How's Jonathan?"
"Jonathan can hear you," Steve replied. "And he's fine. We're parked and waiting for the go-ahead."
You nodded. You knew he was bored just sitting there waiting. Usually Dustin provided a bit of entertainment, or at least a verbal spar that passed the time. With Jonathan in the back, it must've felt like a cold war in there.
So you drank your tea and spilled about your day at the dinerâ the weird flirty old man that had given you a fifteen dollar tip, the nice little grandma who needed someone to mow her lawn for extra money, which you volunteered him for. Stacey Cooper came in to get lunch for the disgraced former-mayor Kline, and Danny came in for dinner and avoided eye contact.
He knew you didn't love your job, and that making yourself leave the house every day to go clean tables and take orders was like torture. And he also knew that you tried to pretend like it wasn't mind numbingly awful so he didn't feel too guilty.
But what other choice did you have? Beg your parents for money? Beg his for more?
"Ugh, this tea went right through me, I'm gonna go," you said. "Call me if you need me." You both said your goodbyes and you steadied yourself with a deep breath.
Empty house, hours of freedom, a Doritos bag staring at you from across the kitchen. With a huff, you stood and wrenched it open so you could grab the seasoning-dusted box from within. It felt so heavy in your hands despite weighing next to nothing at all.
Your stomach roiled with implacable emotion as you locked yourself in the bathroom and laid out the contents of the box on the counter. In your heart, you knew that you should have told Steve by thenâ when your period was late, when you asked Murray to smuggle you in the test, when you snuck it away from him in a fucking Doritos bag.
You thought maybe you should have called him then, but Jonathan was in the van, and a crawl was going on, and there were a million things you didn't want to interrupt.
Maybe it was because you respected the sanctity of what they were doing. Or maybe it was because you were scared that no matter the result, you'd both be disappointed. You'd prefer to save him from that, if you could. What good would knowing do?
You opened the instructions and felt the pit of anxiety in your stomach threaten to swallow you entirely. It was easy enough. Carol told you that one time Debbie thought she was pregnant and got this insane glass tube laboratory setup she had to mail off for results because she was scared their family doctor would narc to their parents.
At least it wasn't that hard anymore. Small blessings.
It would take thirty minutes total. Pee on the sampler, put it in the first well, then wait. Move it to the second, wait. And finally the third. Wait. And that's where you wereâ waiting.
You sat on the edge of the bathtub and twisted your ring around your finger, just watching the kitchen timer on the counter ticking closer and closer to zero. Any other day, you might have craved a cigarette.
Well, you did, but given the circumstances it felt a little inappropriate to sneak one, even if you were eyeing the pack that you'd hidden behind a collection of decorative candles on the countertop.
You weren't sure if you were pregnant, or if stress had finally taken its toll on your body and made you all irregular and off. What you did know was that you were never particularly strict about safe sex with Steve, you weren't on the pill, and you were scared that trying meant an easy opportunity for a new doctor to narc to your parents for brownie points.
And, really, you knew it was a stupid excuse. You'd been pushing your luck for months out of sheer irresponsibility. Every missed restock at the store of condoms, or time when you told Steve he should pull out, but wrapped your legs around him even tighter as you got both close. It felt like it was finally time to pay the piper.
As you sat there picking at your nails, the lights began to flicker, then flash. The radio on the countertop powered on, flipped through stations in a staticky screech, then it all went dead entirely.
You went to the wall and flicked the light switch, until suddenly the lights turned back on as normal. Across the house, you could hear Sam starting to cry. If the power had gone wonky downstairs, it had likely gone haywire in her room too.
The egg timer ticked down five minutes, but you couldn't even bear to look at the sampler where it precariously balanced in the well in case it had already shifted colors. On instinct, you grabbed the walkie as you crossed the house to the stairs, hurrying up to comfort the crying baby.
Upon entry, the air smelled singed. It didn't take long to notice the black char on the inside of her ceramic nightlight where the bulb had blown out. The speakers on the shelf played soft classical music from the naptime cassette Steve had made during a slow day at the station, apparently having remained on after the power surge.
As you swept Sam into your arms, you shushed her gently and swayed. Sam was easy most of the time, but when her sleep was interrupted she could be an absolute terror. The next few minutes were crucial if either of you were going to sleep at all.
The radio crackled to life in your grasp. "You there?" Steve's voice rang through, more fraught than it was with the usual crawl hiccup.
"Yeah, I'm here," you said. "There was a weird power surge here, did youâ"
"Yeah, it fried the van's battery so we're sitting ducks out here. Can you give us a boost?" There was something else beneath his request, an urgency that made a chill run down your spine. "Please?"
Something in your gut told you that Nancy was right, that this was the big crawl. The lights had never done that before, and Steve had never seemed so scared, not even when Sam got a bug a few months back and you had to take her to the hospital for a high fever.
"Yeah, just give me time to bundle Sam up and get her in the car. Where are you?"
The line went quiet as he presumably looked for some sort of landmark. "We're on Cornwallis about⌠five minutes down the road from the old Shell station where we used to buy beer."
Sam was grumpy and squirmy as you changed her into something a little cozier, but what choice did you really have? With her in one arm, you grabbed a care bear absently as you hurried out the door and down the stairs.
Just as you were about to grab your keys, you heard the shrill sound of the kitchen timer going off across the house and dropped them back onto the table with a dull thump. "Sorry, baby, I'll get you in the seat in a second, I promise," you apologized to your fussy daughter as you crossed the house towards the bedroom and bath.
After Carol got pregnant, in the brief stretch of Summer before you ran out of Hawkins without looking back, you'd asked her what it was like to have a baby growing inside of her. Just the thought of it had deeply disturbed youâ a little parasite draining your nutrients to grow itself.
"Well, when you say it like that, it's really weird," she said, her expression wrinkling with distaste. "Actually, don't talk about that medical shit anymore, you'll give me nightmares."
You turned onto your stomach,relishing in the heat of the summer sun on your back while she hid her fair skin beneath an umbrella. "I can't help it," you said. "It's just⌠medically freaky. Like, there's something living inside of you right now, suspended in amniotic fluid, and it looks like a little alien."
She rolled her eyes. "Okay, now it sounds like you're watching too many scary movies," she said with a dismissive scoff. She pulled her sunglasses down her nose and leveled you with her gaze. "I don't even feel it inside of me yet, so I don't think about it like that. It's just⌠something that's happening to me. And I'm not upset that it is."
It didn't make sense to you. Your mother complained about her pregnancy with you every year on your birthday. The long labor, the sickness, the bed rest, the aching feet and headaches. You couldn't imagine giving up so much of yourself thanklessly to a little creature that might grow up to wish you never had.
But Carol was happy, and you didn't have to understand.
When you came back from fall break, her skin was radiant, her hair was full, and she looked perfectly blissful. She showed you everything they ordered for the nursery, and you didn't critique the color choices once even though you really wanted to. She left to pee when she was in the middle of pointing out everything she'd gotten from the shower, and you were left standing in this baby's room with indescribable feelings of sadness.
It felt like, once again, you had been left behind. Your best friends were moving on without you, into this new phase of life that you weren't sure you belonged in. Staring at the crib, decorated with an ugly peach and teal quilted liner, you wanted to just go back to that tiny bed in her parents house and read Teen Beat until you fell asleep.
On the couch, while you curled up beside her and watched a rented tape of A Chorus Line, she moved your hand to her stomach and you grimaced at the feel of a kick. "Oh, that's so weird," you said with a shake of your head.
"Yeah, you were right all along. It is pretty freaky. This baby is fucking killing me."
You didn't look at it as you turned off the timer with unsteady hands. Your nail polish was chippingâ that was something to fixate on. Red cracking off in messy flakes to reveal bare nail beneath.
You took the sampler out of the well and dropped it onto the counter without fixing your gaze downward. You didn't have to look yet. You could have a minute more. Maybe a few.
But Sam was squirming and irritable and Steve and Jonathan needed a jump start and maybe the crawl was going wrong and every second you wasted because you were scared was another opportunity for something bad to happen.
You glanced down at the test stick and exhaled shakily, feeling a strange pang of grief and relief all at once. You wanted a moment to sit with it, to really process it, but you didn't have the luxury. So you shifted Sammie higher on your hip and left to rescue your boyfriend.
She cried in the backseat as you drove through the night. No radio to listen to, no sound of Steve's voice to fill the car. It was just you and the thoughts racing through your mind as you drove across the city.
You were going to tell Steve about the test. You had to tell Steveâ it wasn't something that could just wait for better circumstances. Lying by omission was still lying, and you knew that.
Your thumbs drummed against the steering wheel as you drove, enveloped on all sides by bumpy road and stretches of forest. Before long, your headlights caught the blue paint of the van, so you pulled over in front of it.
As soon as you got out of the car, Steve squeezed you tight in his arms, crushing you in his grip. You gave a weak laugh, brows furrowed as you wrapped your arms around him and hugged back. It lasted longer than usual, until you wanted to wriggle out, but decided that maybe he needed it more than you needed to breathe fresh air.
When he pulled back, you gave a weak frown. "Things are going bad, huh?" He swallowed and nodded. "Jump the car, you can catch me up."
You rocked Sam back and forth in your arms, hugging her tight to ward off the cold, while Steve and Jonathan worked on getting the van jump started. And while Jon hooked up the jumper cables to your clunker, Steve told you everything.
Hopper was missing in the Upside Down, a Demogorgon had attacked the military convoy, then the Wheeler's. And they knew that because Will had seen it, which was weird enough. And it took Holly after all of that. It looked bad for the Wheeler's. Things were bad.
"It's not safe at home anymore," he said, his lips twitching into a frown. "I don't know why it wanted to take Holly, or who it might take next, but I want you and Sam with me."
"Is that safe?" You asked feebly, swallowing hard. "I mean⌠the track record for people who get close with all this stuff isn't reassuring." Barbara, Bob, Billy, Eddie, Max.
Then again, the track record for people who stayed away wasn't the best either. Benny, Heather, Chrissy, Carol and Tommy. People stayed clueless and detached and bad shit happened regardless.
You stay home and you're monster food, you get too close and you're collateral damage. There was no safe path, there was only a coin flip and a desperate hope that you'd chosen correctly.
"You're safer with me, I promise," he insisted. "I wouldn't let anything happen to either of you, you know that."
And you did know that. You knew Steve, and you knew he'd do whatever it took to make sure you and Sam made it out without a single scratch, even if he killed himself in the process. That's how much he loved you both, and you hated that you were so cowardly in comparison that you couldn't start a scary conversation.
Steve could be brave. You could be brave. You wanted to be brave.
"Steve, there's something we should probably talk about, but I don't know if this is a really good time or a really bad time, soâŚ" But his gaze was behind you, staring at the side street feeding into Cornwallis.
Because there was Dustin Henderson, bloodied and battered, wheeling his bike towards the van. Steve sighed, shoulders slumping as Dustin lifted his hand in a lazy wave. "Put a pin in that?" You nodded feebly and brought a strained smile to your lips. "And do you have yourâ"
"The first aid kit? Yeah, it's in the trunk. It's always in the trunk." Sidebarâ you were playing nurse again because Dustin Henderson ran his mouth and got his ass beaten. You didn't need to hear the lie he'd tell this time, you just knew.
Dustin didn't want to talk about it, and you tried not to needle him about it. You ran into the Shell up the street to fill up a styrofoam cup full of fresh water⌠then grabbed a cold can of soda from the fridge for good measure. Dustin held the icy can to his cheekbone while you gingerly cleaned the cuts on his face.
"I told Steve not to be mad that you didn't show," you told him, sitting in the back of the van while Steve and Jonathan fussed with the battery and passed Sam between themselves. Dustin winced as you wiped at the bridge of his nose, and you frowned sympathetically. "Bike crash?"
Dustin shrugged. "I wasn't watching where I was going." You hummed softly and held your tongue. Bike crashes didn't do this. It went quiet between the two of you as you worked, but Dustin spoke up finally. "What were you like in high school? I know what Steve used to be like, butâŚ"
A tiny smile played on your lips. "I was just another popular asshole," you said with an eye roll. "And look where it got me. I'm not exactly going to, like, end world hunger or cure cancer because I was Miss Hawkins '85."
His eyes widened, and you could tell that the expression of surprise physically pained him to make, as involuntary as it was. "You were Miss Hawkins? How did I not know this? Do you still have the crown?"
You rolled your eyes. Of course you still had the crown, but you'd never let him know that. "I was a very gracious leader. People loved me, which was weird because no one really thought much about me until Junior year." You cleared your throat and tried to ignore that soft spot that refused to fortify itself. "I also knew your friend Eddie."
Your gaze flicked down to his torn Hellfire Club shirt and you knew exactly how he wound up sitting in the van and being patched back up. "Well⌠I guess I didn't know him that well. First we had Homeroom my Junior year. And then in '85 I had two months of lunch detention and Eddie couldn't find a scene partner, so Mr. Hirsch told me if I did the scene and performed it for Senior Showcase with gusto he'd call it even."
Eddie wanted to do The Taming of the Shrew, which you were ideologically opposed to. But he promised it would be fun and subversive, whatever the hell that meant, and you thought you looked pretty in the musty old costumes you'd pulled from the full racks in the theater's basement. So, whatever.
He was over the top and loud, and you got the feeling he didn't think very highly of you. He'd make these little digs about you being a princess, or about how rich you were, which irked you. But Mr. Hirsch wanted gusto, so you performed with gusto.
You didn't ever talk to him again, even when you passed him at school, but he didn't make an effort to say hi either. You were never meant to be friends, and neither of you were inclined to change that. It made you a little sad, considering how great everyone who actually knew him said he was.
"How'd it go?" Dustin asked as you put the bloodied cloth down and surveyed your work. Battered, bruised, and definitely scar-worthy⌠but he wasn't going to get an infection.
A coy smile played on your lips. "Eddie got an A, I got out of detention, and Mr. Hirsch told me it was a real shame that I hadn't considered theatre before." Dustin laughed, just a bit, and you tossed him a bottle of Advil. "Did you at least get a good punch in?"
Dustin swallowed and nodded, and you could read the, don't tell Steve, look in his eyes as plain as day. You tossed him the WSQK crewneck and gave him a small smile. "Attaboy."
By the time Steve finally got the car cranked, you had done your best to fill Dustin in on the events of the night. It probably wasn't the most effective summary, given you'd heard it all secondhand from Steve, but he seemed to understand well enough.
"We're going to go try to find Hopper's signal," Steve said, giving you a peck on the cheek. "Why don't you and Sam head up to the station?"
You frowned, crossing your arms. "It's not exactly the best place for a toddler to sleep," you said. "How long are we going to be away from home?"
Steve sighed and ran a hand through his hair. "I dunno⌠we'll figure it out as we go. All I know is that there was a rift in the forest, a tunnel under the backyard, and a rift at the bottom of the pool. I don't like thinking that a demo can crawl back through while you're home alone."
Spending the night at the Squawk wasn't your ideal night, especially with Sam in tow, but what choice did you have? Maybe home was unsafe, and maybe being at the station was the best place for Sam.
So you kissed him, told him to please drive safe, and made your way to the radio station, with the strangest feeling that it might have been the beginning of the end.
In the morning, you heard the van pull up to the Squawk and rubbed at your eyes. Sam had slept peacefully on the couch for most of the night, only waking a few times because her blanket had fallen off of she was missing one of her stuffed animals, but she was adaptable.
You, on the other hand, were notably not adaptable. You couldn't sleep on the springy, smoky couch, and you really couldn't let yourself sleep while worrying about Sam rolling off the couch and onto the tile floor. And worrying about Steve circling Hawkins all night in the unreliable Squawk van. And thinking that every tiny bump and squeak was a demogorgon just waiting to carve you up.
But at least Sam got good sleep. That was something.
"You're both good?" Steve asked when he made it inside, leaving the kids and Nancy outside. "Sleep okay?"
"She did," you told him, and leaned into his chest lazily. He wrapped you up in a hug and rested his chin on the crown of your head. "Watch her so I can grab something to eat? And coffee?"
He nodded and you trudged into the makeshift kitchen, a space which had been overtaken by stacks of studio junk you didn't understand. You rooted through the messily stocked cabinets and fridge until you found a half-empty, very stale box of Golden Grahams. The milk was nearly empty in the fridge, and the coffee machine gurgled in protest as you set a pot on to brew.
You grabbed one of the Boppers that Steve had gotten yesterday and took a bite, grateful to have something filling your empty stomach. With an exhausted huff, you leaned against the ancient refrigerator and watched Steve brushing Sam's hair from her face as she slowly woke up.
"Hey, morning Peanut," he greeted, and his voice was so soft that it made your heart ache. She sat up and looped her arms around his neck in a hug, and he didn't even wince at her terrible morning breath when she pulled back to say good morning.
Steve was a really, really good dad. He lifted her into his arms and carried her into the kitchen. "Anything we can get to tide her over?" He asked, peering at the cabinets. "I usually hide a container of oatmeal somewhere, I can make some in the microwave. And there should be a passable banana somewhere to mix in."
You kissed his cheek and shook your head. "Why don't you go take a quick power nap and let me handle it?" You asked with a tiny smile. "What good are you to anyone if you're a total zombie?"
He kissed your forehead, eased Sam into the booster seat at the janky dinette, and left you to make breakfast out of the random assortment of stuff from the cabinets. Oatmeal was hidden behind a stale box of Cheez-Its and a can of field peas. The passable banana was beneath a grapefruit that you would claim for yourself.
Steve had crashed by the time the rest of the party walked into the station. Samantha lit up at the sight of Dustin, and reached for him across the room, squirming in her seat. "Dusty! Dusty!" He came over and knelt by her chair, wincing as she poked at his bruised cheek. "Ouch."
He gave a wry laugh. "Yeah, ouch. Don't touch."
"Sit with her for a second?" You asked. When he nodded, you crossed the room to wrap Nancy in a tight hug. She stiffened for a second, then relaxed in your arms. You could smell the metallic, coppery smell of blood, maybe in her hair, even if there was no visible trace on her hands and her clothes. "How are you doing, Nance?"
She pulled back and gave an attempt at a smile. "About as well as I can be, I guess," she said. She shifted herself out of your hug and put a little bit of distance between you, and looked like she was going to turn and leave before adding, "Um, do you know Dr. Richards? He's the doctor in charge of the ICU, I guess. I guess I'm just wondering if he's good."
Your expression softened and you shrugged. "Yeah. I mean, he's a total chauvinist dickhead, but he's a pretty good doctor," you replied. "Hawkins Memorial is, like, the best place for your parents to be. And if it got really bad, they'd bring in the super good military doctors to patch them up. "
Nancy nodded and headed for the dinette, pausing just before she could cross the threshold. "How are you doing?" She asked, narrowing her brows.
You glanced at a sleeping Steve and back at her, narrowing your eyes right back. "Fine."
She cocked her head. "Yeah? No update about what we talked about last week?"
You brought an easy smile to your lips and shook your head. "I'm fine, Nance," you insisted. "I've got this handled."
Maybe Nancy Wheeler wasn't the best choice of a person to go to when you were in a crisis. Nancy wanted answers. Nancy needed solutions. So when you called her, panicked, two and a half weeks prior about a very late period and never followed up, she couldn't let it lie.
In all fairness, could anyone? But no one else had Nancy's perception and uncanny ability to read people, like she could see the truth in your eyes. And in that moment, you were about as challenging to read as a picture book.
Steve got a thirty minute nap before the rest of the group shook him awake. You stayed in the managers office and entertained Sam with copy paper and toddler-sized crayons. While the rest of the group planned⌠whatever beyond the doors, Sam drew what looked like a multicolored sea urchin⌠and you drew a remarkably uncanny cartoon of Steve holding the rubber chicken.
You finally crashed on the couch, cuddled up with a napping Sam. You felt drowsiness like a wave, pulling you under until it washed over you entirely. A couch that smelled like smoke, the scratchy cushions, the soft cadence of your daughter's breathing. It didn't matter that the sun was out, you slept better than you had in days.
You dreamed of Carol and Tommy, of hanging out in Tommy's bedroom and smoking cigarettes out of the window. It slipped away when Steve gently nudged you awake, but there was an impression of them behind your eyes. Equal parts comfort and longing.
With a few slow blinks, you brought yourself back to life, groaning at the sunshine. You glanced down and frowned at the sight of Sam missing beside you, but Steve didn't seem worried. "How long was I out? Where's Sam?"
"Robin's letting her play with the control deck in the studio," he said, with a casual glance through the glass over your head. "You looked like you could use some sleep while we got everything ready for tonight. Murray's bringing supplies, and shit. I didn't want to wake you up to ask, so I just told him to grab you a candy bar from a gas station if he stops."
You yawned and scrunched your face as you sat up. It was getting closer to midday, which meant you had been asleep for longer than you liked. It felt a little embarrassing to think about you totally passed out asleep on the couch while everyone did official business. "What's there to get ready?" You asked.
Steve shrugged and reached over to play with your fingers, twisting your ring around and around. "Well, we think Vecna's coming for this kid, Derek, I guess," his mouth twitched a little, anxiously. "So, long story short, we're drugging and kidnapping him and his family so we can set a trap for the demogorgon, tag it, and track it."
The last part of the plan came out in a sudden rush, and you could do little more than just scoff in surprise. "Steve, what the fuck."
"I know, but I can explain everything in the car," he insisted. "It's totally foolproof."
It was, remarkably, not foolproof. Robin was stealing drugs from the hospital your parents worked at, Nancy was going to have to shoot a stupid, scary monster, Lucas was in harms way throwing water balloons at the thing, and Erica had to drug an entire family.
Your fingers drummed on your thigh as Steve drove back to the house. Outside the windows, it was just another nice day out. Chilly, but sunny. Kids played at the park, old men walked their fluffy little dogs.
You wondered where you'd go when things were over. Carol and Tommy's place had been foreclosed on after sitting on the market for so long without payments, and you weren't really sure if that affected your credit or not, since it was technically two dead people's house.
Maybe Daniel and Sylvia would let you stay in the house. Maybe you could find a nice rental by your school and Steve could get a job nearby and Sam could stay at the campus daycare. You did want to go back to school, for sure, but the question of finances made your stomach turn.
Or maybe you were just hungry again. Steve pulled into the driveway and leaned over to kiss your cheek. You closed your eyes and exhaled slowly, relishing in the proximity. If things were perfect, you could just stay there. Lean over, wrap yourself up in him, and let the rest of the world melt away.
"What are you thinking about, huh?" He asked, mumbling against your skin. "Don't worry about anything, honey. Things are going to turn out just fine."
You rushed ahead of him in the house with the excuse that you really had to pee and take a shower, definitely before he did. He didn't question it. You tossed all of the evidence of the test you took, and turned the shower to the hottest it could go.
The guilt gnawed at you, making your stomach turn, but what choice did you have? Holly was missing, El was lost with Hopper somewhere in the Upside down⌠it wasn't the time for distractions. Maybe if you told him he'd get in his head about it and he'd get distracted and then things would go wrong and the plan would fail or they'd all get arrested. It'd all be your fault. You'd ruin everything. They'd hate you.
So you wouldn't say anything. You could wait a few more days, easy.
The wind whipped around you as you walked up the steps to the Perkins' house. Sam's cheeks were pink from the cold, even just from the short walk. The weather had turned as the sun got low, and you tugged your trench coat around yourself as you knocked on the door and waited.
Mrs. Perkins smiled as soon as she caught sight of her grandbaby, and you gave an extremely grateful smile. "Thanks so much, Mrs. Perkins, you're a lifesaver," you insisted. "It's just that Steve's come down with the flu, and you know she just had that stomach bug two months ago and it was so hard on her."
Mrs. Perkins eased her into her arms and gave you a smile. "Don't mention it. We always love having our sweet Samantha over," she insisted. You followed her into the house, lugging her diaper bag and overnight bag with you.
Their house was just as you remembered it. You followed Mrs. Perkins as she walked you deeper into the house and pushed open the door where Carol's bedroom used to be. Your heart ached, twinging as you looked up at the glow-in-the-dark stars on the ceiling and the crochet quilt at the foot of the bed that Mimi Perkins had made. Where Carol's vanity used to be, there was a clearly secondhand crib with a green quilt that clashed terribly with the yellow paint on the walls.
You swallowed down a lump in your throat and blinked away the persistent sting in your eyes. "Um⌠I packed her favorite stuffed animals. She always sleeps with her Bedtime Bear and the gorilla. She calls it scary dog, I don't know why. And I packed her favorite books, she loves the Muppet Babies. And I have a cassette Steve made her for bedtime that always knocks her right out."
Mrs. Perkins put two hands on your shoulders and gave you a reassuring smile. "It's just a couple of days, honey," she said gently. "She'll be alright."
You nodded and sniffled a little as you leaned forward to kiss Sam's forehead. "Mama loves you so much, okay?" You said gently. She nodded and knocked her forehead to yours. "Be an angel for Nana Perkins."
You knew she would, and you knew she'd be fine, but leaving her behind felt like a betrayal. She'd already lost two parents, and there you were, following Steve into danger. But you wanted to see things through with your own eyesâ you wanted no question that your girl was going to grow up safe.
You drove to McCorkle farm and wiped your eyes before you got out of the car. Being emotional wouldn't serve anyone, least of all yourself. You sniffled and leaned your forehead against the steering wheel as you tried to collect yourself. This was right, you were doing the right thing.
When you finally gathered your wits enough to join everyone else, you found Steve leaning against the Beamer, arms crossed, with a frown etching his features.
"Still pouting about your car?" You asked, flicking the metal satellite. Steve scoffed, scuffing his feet on the ground. He was well and truly pouting, and it struck you how young both of you still were, even if you felt like you'd aged decades in the past eighteen months. "Hey, it's fun, maybe we can start a ghost hunting task force after all of this."
Steve glared over at Dustin, but broke his stare to look at you. His gaze softened almost imperceptibly, and you felt his gaze tracking over your watery, red eyes. "You've been crying," he noted, and his words were soft where his tone was still sharp. "Did she not want to go?"
You sighed and shook your head. "No, it's not that. It's just always hard to leave her alone, especially with all of thisâ" You gave a vague wave of your hand where the kids loaded up in the Squawk van and stocked up with axes and tools. "I just want to make sure both of us come home to her."
Steve swallowed and closed his eyes for a second. His chest rose and fell with a deep, slow breath. Maybe he felt dumb for being so upset about his car when there was a lot more at stake. You knew the feeling.
"Hey, we're just driving around," he insisted. "Worst that'll happen is we get a ticket."
That wasn't the worst. In your brain, you traced the millions of ways that this could go wrong and wind up with the two of you rotting in a military prison, dead, or worse. And you tried to stay optimistic anywayâ so far, Steve had survived a fight with a demogorgon, being swarmed by demodogs, Russian torture, a giant gooey flesh monster, being swarmed by bats, and attacking Vecna in person⌠that was a pretty good track record.
Maybe a drive around Hawkins wouldn't be too terrible.
Steve nudged your shoulder with his arm and you reluctantly cracked a smile. "I really love you," He said, tucking your hair behind your ear. "Things have just been so off between us lately, y'know? And I know it's because of the job, and money, and a million other things, and I should be there for you more, but I promise it'll get better."
Your lips twitched into a frown. "Steve, you're just fine," you insisted. "I swear, it's not any of that, it'sâŚ" The words died on your tongue as Steve looked at you expectantly. You could taste the words on your tongue, so close to just spilling out, but you just couldn't. "It's not as important as this. Like⌠Property damage, breaking and entering, drugging, kidnapping⌠That's a lot for a rap sheet."
Steve chuckled under his breath. Across the farm, Lucas whistled and slapped the side of the van. Dustin, Nancy, and Jonathan headed for the Beamer. "We'll be fine. Take shotgun? I'm still mad at Henderson."
When you finally parked across the street, you watched in awe and terror as Erica cried fake tears and lied her way into the house with the drugged pie. She was a thoroughly terrifying little girl, and equally impressive.
"Y'knowâŚ" you said in the quiet of the car. "I should feel bad about being a part of all of this, but when I was going door to door for Mondale, they were such assholes. Major fucking republicans, by the way. Like⌠mouths surgically attached to Reagan's assâ"
"Okay, ew," Steve groaned. "We get the picture, and it's disgusting."
You sighed and knocked your head against the door. "Do you think the old lady that Robin took the meds from is going to be okay?" You asked again, to be met with silence. "'Cause, like, imagine she's in serious pain and that's the only way she can sleep, and the nurse on duty just thinks that she's a junkie and took it all and can't have anymore."
Dustin put a hand on your arm. "Yeah, we don't usually talk this much." You gave a sheepish smile and held your tongue as you watched the silhouettes of the Turbow's and Erica eating the pie through the drawn curtains. Your nails drummed on the window, and when that felt too loud, you drummed them on your knee.
Finally, the garage opened and the group jumped into action. You scrambled to follow behind, tossing your purse into the car so you could hurry across the street. The Squawk van was in the drive⌠it wasn't exactly subtle. You looked at your surroundings, praying that no neighbors chose that time to look out their windows, and frowned as you slipped into the garage.
They had their marching orders, and you did your best not to get in the way. Moving furniture, helping set traps. When Dustin handed you an axe, you looked at him incredulously.
"I can't use this," you said with a weak laugh, nudging it back towards him..
Dustin pushed it back into your grip. "Figure it out, Miss Hawkins."
You huffed and looked at Steve, who shrugged. Figure it out. You swallowed and carried the axe into the living room, feeling like a bunny in a lions den.
You were spoiled, and coddled, and babied. You were so out of your depth that you felt embarrassed just standing there among them. You raised the axe and slammed it down onto the white chalk mark on the ground. The wood splintered around the impact point, and you wrenched the blade free with shocking ease.
Turns out, lifting and carrying a toddler around for hours every day did wonders for your upper body strength. There was something cathartic about it tooâ seeing this perfect, beautiful wood floor that the asshole boot-licking losers paid thousands for destroyed at your hand. To see anything destroyed, like a manifestation of everything you'd been holding in for months.
You lost yourself in that catharsis until everyone else stopped and you looked up. Steve Harrington. Your boyfriend, the total show off. He was a showman, revving the chainsaw like he was in a horror movie before he took the tool to the hardwoods that you'd all barely put a dent in.
Afterward, when the floor caved in, you watched him panting across the room. He dropped the chainsaw, pulled back the goggles, and tugged at his sweater. He was annoyingly handsome, and you knew from the smile he sent you across the room that he knew it. The total asshole.
You two got to the car first, while Dustin did a quick pass at the traps to ensure everything was in order. "That shit with the chainsaw was super phallic," you said with a grin, nudging him across the center console. "You totally ruined my flow with the axe too. I was actually good with it."
He rolled his eyes. "If it looked like a dick it's because you wanted it to, perv." You shook your head and fought a grin. Maybe he was a little right. Whatever. "How did Dustin find out about you being Miss Hawkins?"
You felt your cheeks going a little warm with sudden humility. "I⌠was trying to bond with the kid," you said. "He asked what I was like in high school."
Steve nodded, lips twitching. "And you started bragging?"
You rolled your eyes. "I was not bragging. I was actually being kind of self-deprecating, soâŚ"
You reached into the glove box and grabbed a Bopper. You hadn't eaten since you'd stopped at home, and your stomach was starting to growl. Steve leaned over and took a bite from your hand. It was weird, being includedâ the rush and the fear and the excitement.
"You said you wanted to talk to me about something last night," he said, wiping crumbs from his mouth. "I didn't forget, y'know. Things have just been so⌠but yeah, did you want to talk about it now, or�"
You thought about it, really. But one glance over his shoulder, and you saw Dustin jogging back to the car. "It's not bad," you said quickly. "Just maybe not a conversation to have around Henderson, y'know?"
He nodded and gave your hand a squeeze. "Yeah. Duh."
Dustin slid into the backseat, eyes immediately narrowing at the sight of you two making eyes at each other. "Can you detach, please?"
With a grin, you glanced back at him. "Dustin, we're literally just sitting together."
"Doesn't matter, I'm nauseated, and we need to focus." He glanced out the window, watching the streetlights disappearing up the hill in the distance. You swallowed your defensiveness and turned your gaze out the window too.
The three of you sat in silence, watching lights that didn't flicker, didn't pulse. You leaned your head onto Steve's shoulder, almost lulled by the sound of Robin rambling on the other end of the radio. Something about the hospital and stealing the meds, and fingerprints, and sentencing, and Steve's uncle.
You watched a streetlamp flicker and held your breath. And they were moving, tracing a sparkling path to the Turnbow house. You sat up in your street, watching the lights in the house dance as the demogorgon made its way through the upside down.
Through the window, you saw something. An imposing height, gray, muscular flesh. Michael Jordan tall. Face like a flower with teeth. Sure, Will had drawn you a picture, but seeing it made it real. It wasn't pencil on paper or exaggerated words. It was alive, and it was in the house with people you cared about.
"Buckle up, honey," Steve said, but your gaze was glued to the window, where you watched the figure stalking towards Lucas. You flinched when he reached over you to buckle you in himself. "Hey, can you do this?"
Do what? Ride in a car near danger? If you couldn't say yes you'd be totally humiliated⌠and left on the side of the road in Loch Nora next to an active B&E case. So, even though you were unsure, you nodded quickly.
You screamed when Nancy and Jonathan banged on the car windows to get in, which definitely didn't help your, totally handling it, case. While Steve drove through backyards to chase down a creature that didn't care about traffic laws, you white knuckled the door handle and kept your eyes squeezed shut.
If the monster didn't kill you, the Beamer careening off the road and into a tree would. Then who would raise Sam? Debbie? Your parents? Worse⌠his parents? He hit a bump and you jostled, eyes peeking open to see woods passing by so fast that it looked like you were at hyperspeed.
You were going to puke. You were going to puke and probably die in this stupid fucking car.
McCorkle farm came into view and your stomach turned. The demogorgon had found Derek. It was going to capture him, which meant the plan had failed. You watched the demogorgon flipâ tearing out of an oak tree on the side of the road and leaving glowing red sinew in its wake.
Steve shifted gears, trying to catch up to the impossibly fast monster. He turned fast and your head knocked into the glass of the window with a dull thud, making your head go a little fuzzy.
The demogorgon clawed at the barn doors, and you could sense Steve hesitating. Idling as he watched.
"Steve, floor it!"
"Drive, Steve!"
"C'mon, man, that's my family in there, hit it!"
It was all distant in your ears. You weren't built for this. You had wanted in because you didn't want to be left out, but you were so far out of your depth that you were choking on your fear.
Steve hit the gas, the monster slammed into the front of the car and you flinched as you heard it rolling over the roof. They were all alive with adrenaline, laughing and cheering, but your veins were ice as it stood to its full height in front of the carâ bloody and visceral. Its face opened as it shrieked, and you squeezed Steve's arm so hard that you thought you might leave a bruise.
It was fast, so fast it could have easily reached through the window and killed you all for sport. But it just went still, and that was the scariest part of all, like it was thinking. You made a soft, wounded sound akin to a whimper and turned away from it, just as it turned and ran towards the silo and ripped a rift into the sheet metal like it was tissue paper.
Steve's hesitation was like a sixth presence in the car, fingers twitching on the gear shift, heart thrummingâ you could feel it just like you could feel your own terror. His eyes flicked between the gravel path to the glowing silo. As he turned to Dustin, his eyes met yours, wide like a prey animal.
And you just knew that Steve, this man that you loved so much that it felt like an ache, was going to get you killed. Get all of you killed. Their conversation was muffled behind the pounding of your heart, because Steve wanted to go through that, to follow it on its turf.
"We can't," you muttered, at the same time that Jonathan argued against the suicide mission. "Steve, we can't. We can't, we'll die."
"It's fine," he insisted. "We've done it before, we'll be fine. Nothing's going to happen to us." The signal was getting weaker, and Nancy just wanted to get to her sister. Maybe you couldn't blame her for giving Steve the permission he was waiting for, you just wished you would have gotten out of the car first.
While Dustin and Jonathan panicked and begged Steve to stop the car, you squeezed your eyes shut and held onto the door handle, unable to watch the rift drawing closer and closer. The tires ground against the gravel road, spitting it out as it sped forward.
It wasn't until you heard Steve sigh in relief that you opened your eyes to see Hawkins leached of all color and light. Your brows furrowed as you peered out, watching that same weird snow that fell after the quake floating by as you drove through.
You looked in the side mirror, brows furrowing as you watched the gate closing entirely. A claustrophobic feeling settled over you, like the time you'd been shut into your trunk as a prank at camp.
The "door" had closed firmly behind you, and the only other one you knew of was in the middle of the Mac-Z. The five of you were stuck in the Upside Down with no way out that didn't lead to immediate detainment and jail time.
Your forehead thumped against the window as you looked outside, watching red lightning flash and illuminate the sky, listening to the roar of thunder that sounded like it was coming from everywhere at once.
The demo had a head start, so that was a relief, at least. You didn't have to watch its gray skin stretching and moving around corded muscles as it ran. Steve's nightmares made sense to you nowâ how could you close your eyes when you might dream that you're here, in this place, with those things?
"You're quiet," Steve said, glancing over at you. "I thought you'd have more to say about all of this. Are you catatonic over there?"
You scoffed and rolled your eyes, still staring out the window outside as you passed the Hagan's. Tommy's stupid dirt bike was outside, parked crooked in the driveway, covered in the same freaky, slimy vines that everything else was. Just as fast as you saw it, it disappeared into the shadowy darkness behind the car.
He squeezed your hand. "Hey." It snapped you from your thoughts and into a very upsetting present. "Are you with me?"
You pulled your hand from his and stared out the window. He didn't push, for the moment, which was a relief. His hand moved back across the center console, and twitched against the gear shift.
"Going left, towards Lancaster." Dustin's voice became background noise as he navigated Steve through the upside down after the demo.
All the while, you watched the bad version of Hawkins outside, frozen in 1983, and wondered what you'd find if you went back to your room on that day. One of Steve's Queen casettes thrown at the wall, still in plastic chunks on the carpet and surrounded by flecks of chipped paint. Your diary and every shameful, hurt thing you'd scrawled in pen.
Carol had stayed over the same night that Will went missingâ you'd driven her and Tommy to school in the morning. Would her pendant be on the nightstand? The same one that she'd been wearing the night that she died?
Were they in here? Your jaw worked as you finally let yourself think about what had happened to them last March. Did the rift burn through them like Lucas saw happen to that Jason guy? Did they die from the fall through? Could that even kill a person? Did they starve? Did they get hunted by something like the monster you were chasing? Were they alone and rotting somewhere while you were living their lives?
Had Steve ever looked for their bodies so he could bring them home? Didn't they deserve a resting place better than this?
You hadn't realized you were picking your cuticles until Steve pulled at your hands again. It was a bad habit, one of Steve's that you had unconsciously mirrored. When you glanced down at your hands, your thumbnail was outlined in blood.
"Talk to me," Steve said again. "This is serious stuff, I can't have you freaking out on us."
"You drove through a fucking gate into this place," you accused, finally whirling around to face him. "We're stuck in here because you're impulsive and selfish."
"I'm selfish?" He scoffed, glancing between the road ahead and your fiery expression. "I'm doing this because Holly's alone in here."
"Yes, you are selfish, Steve," you argued, your voice raising more than what was comfortable in the cramped car. "We had a plan, and you disregarded it and threw yourselfâ noâ all of us into danger because you think you're a Hawkins loser who has to prove himself by being a hero. But you're not a hero, Steve, you're just an idiot."
Steve's grip went white on the steering wheel, and you knew you'd said a terrible thing just to sink your claws in. The car went quiet, interrupted only by Dustin throwing out directions for Steve to follow with a noticeably feeble tone.
"You know what?" He finally said, when he decided he couldn't just bite his tongue and let you wound him anymore. "I asked you if you could handle this. You could've gone home and stayed with Sam, but you didn't. You begged to know everything, because you're so goddamn scared of being left out all of the time. And maybe, just maybe, you were always left out because you can be a really miserable person."
You felt your eyes go watery, and your lip start to wobble, but you couldn't just take it lying down. "I'm miserable? For being the one to point out that you didn't think this through and now we're stuck with no way out?" He huffed, gripping the wheel tighter. "If I'm so miserable and off base, I want to know your plan. How are we going to get back to Sam? Our daughter, in case you forgot."
Steve scoffed and looked over at you. The muscles in his jaw went tight, and his gaze went hard. "You don't trust me to handle it? You don't think I would do whatever it takes to get us home? Do you think I'd just let you die in here? Is that it?"
"Turn right!" Dustin piped up from the back, and Steve turned sharply onto the side street with barely a glance at the road. The sign for the Roane Cemetery whipped past the window, not that either of you were paying attention.
"I think you can't admit when you're wrong. Which you are."
"I think you need to be right all of the time. But what do I know? I'm just a Hawkins loser."
A laugh escaped you and you exhaled sharply through your nose. Nancy and Jonathan were mumbling something to each other, or maybe your blood was pounding so hard in your ears that it was muffling them. You couldn't tell, and you really didn't want to hear their input on your relationship anyway. Glass houses and stones and what not. "Okay, fine."
"Fine?"
"Yeah, fine. I'm a miserable bitch and you're a Hawkins loser and none of it is going to matter when we die in here."
"Stop the car, Steve!" Nancy yelled from the backseat.
The two of you turned towards the windshield at once, and you froze at the sight of a giant hulking wall taking up your entire field of vision. Steve reacted fast, shifting gears, slamming on the breaks, but you continued to careen towards it, fishtailing as the car struggled to stop.
You felt the initial impact like a rattle in your bonesâ the sudden pressure of a speeding car flying towards an immoveable object dispelling through you. The windshield shattered into jagged crystals that spilled across the dashboard and your lap.
When car slammed to a stop, your head smashed into the dash with a dull, stinging thud. You felt something slick and hot, going from your forehead to your hair, but mostly you just felt exhausted, like you'd run a marathon. You thought you heard the horn going off, distant and far away, but then there was nothing at all.
A/N: Yayyyy so as you can tell, tcogb6 was getting WAY too long to post in one part, so I decided to split it up into two! Part 7 is underway now :) Please message me any thoughts, feelings, or theories that you have... i'm very very curious to know your thoughts after this one >:)
warnings: time travel au, fluff, strangers to lovers, season three adjacent, slow burn
Back to â85 | Part 1
While the scoops troop works on decoding the secret transmission, you get whisked away by a certain duo for a complete eighties makeoverâmaking someoneâs head spin
Morning sunlight filtered through the curtain in soft golden streaks, warming your face just enough to pull you from sleep. For one blissful second, everything felt normal. The mattress beneath you was comfortable, the faint smell of breakfast drifted down the hallway, then your eyes opened.Â
An unfamiliar ceiling stared back, your heart sank, right, it was 1985. The events of yesterday came rushing back to you all at onceâthe crack in the woods, Scoops Ahoy, sailor boy, Robin, time travel.Â
With a sigh, you pushed yourself upright, wincing slightly as the bruise on the back of your head reminded you it was very, very real. The oversized sweatshirt Steve had lent you had ridden up sometime during the night. Tugging it back into place, you padded quietly into the hallway.Â
The smell grew stronger as you frowned, burnt toast. You rounded the corner into the kitchen to find Steve standing in front of the stove with his back turned to you, one hand clutching a spatula while the other waved a dish towel at the toaster.
âI donât think toast is supposed to be that color.â You leaned against the doorway.
Steve jumped, the spatula clattering onto the floor with a loud bang. âIââ he whipped around, cheeks already pinkening. âI wasnât expecting you to be awake.âÂ
You huffed out a laugh, shaking your head. âI can see that.âÂ
He looked down at the smoking toast, lips pinching together. âOkay, maybe breakfast isnât my thing.â He tossed it into the trash before opening the fridge. âCereal?â
You accepted it graciously. âI can do cereal.â You agreed, sitting opposite him at the kitchen counter.Â
For a while, neither of you spoke, Steve stealing the occasional glance between bites of cereal. The silence wasnât awkward, it was strangely comforting. âHey, you look better today.â His expression softened, you blinked up at him.
âOh, IâI guess I slept good is all.â You shrugged, stopping the spoon halfway to your mouth. âI just kept thinkingâŚwhat if I never get home?â You whispered, staring down into your bowl.
Steve felt the itch to reach out, to hold your hand, anything to ease your worries slightly. âWeâre gonna figure it out.â He said firmly.
âYou donât know that.â You wanted to be optimistic, but every second you werenât home, you felt trapped.
âNo.â He admitted so honestly it hurt. âBut Dustinâs usually right about this weird stuff. And besides, youâve got me.â Steve paused, realizing what he just said. âI mean, youâve got us, the whole group.â He rushed out.
You smiled gently. âI know what you mean.âÂ
He quickly straightened up, clearing his throat. âWe should probably head to Scoops.âÂ
âBack to work?â You asked, only remembering now that even though it is summer, people are still employed.
âRobin will complain if Iâm late.â Steve explained, sighing. âBetter get there now.â
âThen you should go put on that uniform, sailor boy.â You mocked, unable to keep the grin off your face.
Steve narrowed his eyes at you, realizing he was never going to escape the horrendous name. âWhatever you say, future girl.â
Looks like you werenât the only one who could come up with nicknames.Â
The loud hum of Starcourt mall buzzed through Scoops Ahoy as another steady stream of customers wandered in and out. Steve and Dustin had completely taken over the back room, a notebook lay open between them, whiteboard littered with symbols and letters.
âIâm telling you, Henderson, I definitely heard the word banana in there.â Steve yelled, replaying the audio.
Dustin groaned, slapping his forehead. âSure Steve, why would top secret spy agents be transmitting a code about bananas?â He returned.
You walked out of the door, joining Robin upfront while she kept slinging ice cream cones. As much as you wanted to help them, it was extremely clear they werenât getting anywhere and you needed to clear your head.Â
âIâve learned to tune them out.â The short-haired girl said, shooting you a glance.
You nodded, giving her the same tired expression. âI think Iâm getting there.â
The door swung open once more, two girls walked inside, laughing about something youâd missed. One had fiery red hair with matching freckles littered across her face, radiating confidence with every step she took.Â
The other wore a vibrant mismatched outfit, she smiled at everything around her with wide brown eyes as if she was seeing it for the very first time. Robin sent them a smile, she recognized the redhead from when she came in with a bigger group. âHey, are you looking for Steve?â She asked.
âNope,â the redhead exclaimed with a grin. âNo boys today, just ice cream.âÂ
After another minute of indecisive sampling, they finally settled on their cones. As Robin handed over their ice creams, they turned towards you, noticing you standing off to the side.Â
âI donât think Iâve seen you before.â The redhead pointed out.Â
âIâmâŚâ you hesitated. âNew.â
âSheâs definitely new.â Robin said with a laugh, as they raised their brows.Â
âIâm Max.â The redhead introduced herself, then pointed to the short haired girl beside her. âAnd this is El.â
El smiled warmly, connecting with your gaze. âHi,â she muttered, somewhat shyly.
âSo,â Max got straight to the point. âWhatâs your story?â She asked patiently.Â
Before you could open your mouth, Robin beat you to it. âSheâs from the future.â You werenât sure if Robin should be revealing your secret to the young teens, the more people that knew the more dangerous, but you got this weird feeling that this wasnât the strangest thing theyâve heard.
âExcuse me?â Max blinked, you nodded awkwardly.
âThe future.â El repeated, though instead of laughing, she looked amazed. âWhatâs it like?â She asked.
Max leaned forward immediately. âWait, seriously?â She lowered her voice to El. âYou actually believe her?â
The other girl simply shrugged, she came from a lab where kids had powers. âMaybe sheâs like me.â She responded, you didnât know what she meant.
âAre peopleâŚhappier?â She continued. The question caught you off guard, you looked down at your hands.Â
âI donât know,â you confessed. âI think life gets faster. Everyoneâs always rushing, sometimes it feels like nobody notices whatâs right in front of them anymore.â
The conversation faded into quiet, you realized the people around you didnât know how much things are going to change. Maybe itâs better they didnât know, maybe you should keep it all to yourself.Â
Max suddenly clapped her hands together. âAlright, enough of the depressing future talk.â Then she pointed at you. âWhen was the last time you bought new clothes?â
You looked down at the oversized sweatshirt from Steve, grimacing slightly at the fact you still hadnât found anything thatâs fit you. âTechnically, this isnât mine.â
Max looked towards Robin. âCan we borrow her?â She asked.
A smile spread across her face. âOh, absolutely.â She replied, before turning towards you. âI thinkâŚâ she nudged your shoulder. âItâs time you looked a little more like you belonged in 1985.â
You hadnât even had the chance to protest, Max grabbed one wrist, while El gently took the other. âCâmon!â They started dragging you away from the ice cream parlor.
âW-waitââ
âYouâll survive.â Max rolled her eyes, scouting all the stores you could venture into.Â
âHave fun!â Robin called after you with a grin. You looked helplessly over your shoulder, but Max and El disappeared with you into a sea of neon lights and music echoing throughout the huge mall.
The second the pair dragged you through the first clothing shop, you knew you were in trouble. âI can already tell,â you sighed. âIâm not getting a say in any of this, am I?â
But deep down, you loved that they were doing this for you. In your time, youâd only dressed for the decade during spirit week in school, but witnessing it all in real life, was a completely surreal feeling.Â
âUh-uh,â she shook her head, browsing between the racks as El wandered after her, fingertips brushing over brightly colored shirts with quiet fascination.Â
âSo many colors.â You muttered breathlessly. Max had already popped back out with an armful of clothes, dumping everything into your arms.
A denim skirt, a bright pink graphic tee tied at the waist, white high-top sneakers, and a pair of scrunchies. You stared at the various fabrics like they came from a museum, they didnât belong on your body.Â
âListen,â Maxâs blue eyes pierced into yours. âYouâre gonna try all this on, and youâll be transformed into a whole new person.â She giggled.
And fifteen minutes later, the dressing room curtain slowly slid open as you stepped out. The denim skirt sat comfortably above your knees, paired with the pink tee that hugged your waist, socks pulled above your ankles.Â
You tugged self-consciously at the hem. âI feel straight out of a movie.â
Elâs face instantly lit up, gazing at you with adoration. âYou look pretty.â She commented.Â
Heat rushed to your cheeks. âI do?â You asked, staring into the mirror.
Max laughed loudly. âYou donât even know.â She stood up again, joining you in the reflection. âWeâre not done yet.â
Youâd somehow accumulated a whole stack of vintage jewelry, hoop earrings, more bracelets than you could count, and sunglasses that Max had insisted were made for you.Â
The final stop was a cosmetics counter, you froze in place. âIâm terrible at makeup,â you shook your head.Â
Max relented, pulling you forwards. âSo am I, but we'll learn together, right?â She shrugged.
You looked at her skeptically. âIâm scared.â You said as she pushed down to sit in front of a vanity.Â
âWe never finished talking.â Max pointed out as she picked up a pallet.
âAbout?â You asked, looking up at her.
âThe future.â She said obviously. âBoys,â she sent you a smirk, dabbing a makeup brush onto your face.
You laughed, trying to keep still. âWhat about them?â You asked.
âYou got a boyfriend?â She chirped, pulling back to scan your face.
âNo.â You answered truthfully.
âReally?â She paused. âLike youâve never had one?â
You squirmed in your seat, nodding easily. âYup, I guess Iâve always just been waiting for the right person.â You explained.
âI had a boyfriend.â El spoke up, you looked at her curiously. âBut I dumped him today.â She finished with a mischievous smile, laughing at her own words. âMax said itâs âgirl powerâ.â
You laughed, eyes crinkling at her. âIt is, thatâs why you should be with someone who treats you right.âÂ
âI told her boys can be idiots sometimes.â Max added. âItâs basically in their DNA.â She laughed.
âOh trust me, theyâre all like that where Iâm from.â You said.Â
âWellâŚmaybe the 80âs got better options.â Max gave you a sly wink.Â
Heat crept up your neck, brows furrowing. âIâve been here less than a day.â You mentioned.
âMhm.â Max hummed, uncapping a lipstick to bring to your mouth.
âIâm serious.â You pushed.
âWeâll see.â She smirked. You rolled your eyes, unable to stop smiling.
She finally stepped back after what felt like an eternity later. âThere.â She smirked, happy with her work. You took a peak, blinded by your new face. Your makeup was surprisingly soft, a sweep of rosy blush, a hint of lipstick that made your lips look kissable, mascara that lifted your lashes enough without looking overdone. Nothing dramatic, but it made you feel more confident than you ever had in your whole life.
El reached for your hair behind you. âCan I?â She asked softly.
You nodded, watching as she carefully brushed it before gathering the front sections into a high half-up ponytail, secured with one of the scrunchies they had gotten you earlier. A few loose strange framed your face angelically, the girl in the mirror still looked like you, just, more fit for the time.Â
âI love it.â You slowly smiled, each of them placing a hand on your shoulders.
âI know.â Max said smugly, tucking a hair behind your hair.
âWell, well, wellâŚâ Robin drawled amusingly as she caught you returning to Scoops Ahoy. âLooks like someone got a makeover.â She crossed her arms over her chest.
She raised her voice loud enough to catch Steveâs attention where he was still huddled in the back. âDingus.â
âWhat?â Steve sighed.
âCould you bring that whiteboard up front, we should probably show her what we uncovered.â She said.Â
Steve stood up, carrying the whiteboard to the counter, but fully froze once he had glanced towards the entrance, the whiteboard dropping from his hands.
You stood awkwardly just a couple feet away. âToo much?â You asked, tugging on the hem of your skirt.
Steve opened his mouth, closed it, then opened it againâhis brain had completely short-circuited. Robin bit the inside of your cheek to stop herself from laughing.Â
Dustin followed after him, looking up from his notebook to watch Steveâs blank expression. âDudeâŚâ no response. âSteve.â Still nothing. âSteve!âÂ
He flinched, blinking rapidly. âWhat?â Though his eyes lingered on you for a few more moments.
âYouâve been staring for like,â Dustin checked his watch. âThirty seconds.â
Steveâs cheeks immediately flushed the same shade as your shirt. âI wasnât staring.â He scoffed.
Robin raised an eyebrow. âYou definitely were, Harrington.âÂ
He looked at you again, sounds faltering out of his mouth. âYouâŚâ he started, swallowing thickly. âYou lookâŚâ they all watched him expectantly. âReally pretty.â He forced the words out.
Your eyes widened, eyes flickering around the parlor. âThanks.â You exhaled.
Steve rubbed the back of his neck, smiling sheepishly. âMhm.â For a split second, the rest of the mall vanished, only the two of you remained, until Robin cleared her throat loudly.
âAlright, so while you were getting all dolled up.â She raised the board where they had written the decoded message. âI put my linguistic skills to use and translated the message.â
Your eyes almost popped out of your skull, as you hurried over to get a closer look. âReally, you actually did it?âÂ
âThese idiots would be stuck without me.â She gloated. âIt was in Russian, but not nearly as complicated as Dustin thought.âÂ
The Henderson boy shot her an offended look. âI never said that it was complicated.â He corrected.
âYou literally called it an encrypted Soviet communication.â She mentioned.
âWhich makes more sense.â He shrugged.
Robin rolled her eyes before tapping the first line with the end of a marker. âThe week is long.â She moved to the next. âThe silver cat feeds when blue meets yellow in the west.â Then the final line. âA trip to China sounds nice, if you tread lightly.â
âIâm still not seeing what any of that has to do with well, her showing up here.â Steve gestured.
âMaybe it doesnât.â Robin admitted. âMaybe theyâre connected by luck.â
Dustin shook his head. âI donât think so, she falls through some weird crack in reality the same day this Russian transmission shows up? Weâre missing something.â
Steve sighed, leaning against the counter. âGreat, we cracked the code just to end up with even more questions.âÂ
You stayed silent, your gaze lingering on the words scrawled across the whiteboard. Somewhere in those cryptic messages had to be an explanation, for why you were here, and whether you would ever make it back.Â
None of you knew it, but decoding the Russian message was only the first piece of a puzzle far bigger than any of you couldâve imagined.
ŕż Summary: Steve Harrington is a sucker for lip balm, constantly buying new flavors simply as an excuse to get your beautiful lips on his. And this time, he's found his favorite by far.
ŕż CW: established relationship, no mention of y/n, fluff, mdni, making out, dry humping, suggestive, hickeys and love bites, Steve is feral, brief mention of oral (f!receiving)
ŕż A/N: This is my first Steve fic!!! Hope you lovelies enjoy it! And if you have any requests don't be scared to send them my way!
ŕż WC: 3k
ŕż Song Inspo: âť â | Taste My Tongue by MAY-A | ⡠âş
If there was one thing in life that Steve was addicted to, it was your lips. Specifically: your lips on his. He had ditched the alcohol and the cigarettes right after you had agreed to go on a date with him. That first kiss had sealed the deal for him. Who needed to drown in beer when you could drown in soft sweet kisses? It was beginning to become a problem, not for you or Steve of course, but for the rest of your friends. They could all see the way Steve's eyes found their way back to your lips in the middle of a conversation. He was not subtle, he was outright loud about it and had zero shame. He would stare and stare and stare at your lips, licking his own as his mind conjured past memories.
It had gotten to a point where Keith had practically banned you from stepping foot into Family Video for more than 5 minutes. More than once had Steve knocked over a new display or recently organized stack of movies because he couldn't stop looking at your lips as you conversed with Robin. So now, you could only come into the store if you actually needed to get a movie or if you were BRIEFLY dropping something off for Steve.
While your friends found the whole obsession ridiculous and downright annoying at times, you thought it was just the sweetest thing. You adored the way he would steal kisses from you when he thought no one was looking. But mostly, you loved the fun little game the two of you had going on.
It had started completely innocently, all by accident, totally and completely random, definitely something you had not given thought to at all, it's not like you had planned the whole thing... No no, you had totally not purposefully put on a cherry flavored lip balm JUST to see how your sweet, loving, lip obsessed, boyfriend would react.
Except you had. And his reaction was 1000 times better than you had expected. You were sitting on his couch, plotting, waiting for the perfect moment to strike. When he retreated into the kitchen to refill your drink, you quickly whipped out the lip smackers, lathering it on your lips like a mad woman. When he returned with your drink, you waited patiently, knowing soon enough he would be the one to cave in and kiss you. And the poor boy fell right into your trap. Not even 5 minutes after settling into the couch beside you, he simply couldn't help himself. Steve leaned over, gently turning your chin towards him with two fingers. His head dipped low. The second his lips found yours, the effect was in place. He startled slightly at the new taste, letting out a sound that was a mix of confusion and delight. His large hand cupped your cheek carefully, pulling you closer as his tongue swiped across your bottom lip. He reeled back a few inches, licking his lips which now held hints of cherry.
"Did you? Is that cherry?" He blinked at you, stunned.
You nodded, nose brushing his lightly. "Mhm, thought it would be a nice surprise." Your arms found their way around his neck, lips grazing the side of his mouth.
A strangled noise caught in his throat, his hands finding your waist as you shifted yourself over his lap. "You did this for me, baby?" He looked up at you.
You hummed a yes, kissing along his jaw carefully. "You like the flavor?"
A slow smirk spread across his lips, hands tightening on your waist. "Hm, not sure. I think I might need another taste."
You let out an airy laugh before your lips met his again.
Since that night, Steve had turned the moment into a little game. He made it his life's mission to find more and more flavors of chapstick. He browsed all of the convenience stores within a 20 mile radius of Hawkins, always returning with at least one new colorful tube of Lip Smackers.
Each time he found a new one, he would conveniently point out how chapped your lips looked and offer you up his newest find. You played into his little game, always taking the offered up balm and immediately applying it before giving him a 'thank you' kiss.
You knew exactly how to tell if he enjoyed a particular flavor or not. If he liked it he would nod to himself as he licked his bottom lip to get a second taste. If he found it to be average he would simply nod. If he wasn't a fan he would let out a narrow hum before holding out his hand for you to return the small tube back to him.
Steve had absolutely no shame in telling you exactly which ones he liked the most, in fact he had a running list:
Cherry (duh it was the first one)
Strawberry Kiwi (cuz it reminds him of Capri Suns)
Vanilla (a classic of course)
Coca-Cola (tastes like an ice)
And the list goes on and on and on, but the bottom two that he simply threw away after the first taste test were from a specialty pack he had found in October. Steve didn't know what he was thinking when he bought the candy flavored pack, but he immediately regretted handing you the licorice flavor and the candy corn flavor. Thinking about them made him sick and had paused his game for approximately 3 days.
Despite the failed halloween flavors, he pushed onward, finding more and more lip balms for you to try. But there was one particular flavor that somehow kept evading him, one flavor that he had been on the hunt for ever since the game had begun.
No matter where he went, where he ventured, how far he traveled, he couldn't seem to track down a singular cotton candy flavored lip balm. It was like the universe was playing some cruel trick on him, because each store he went into had the same empty spot where the elusive flavor was supposed to sit. He didn't know why he was so hell bent on finding that particular flavor, but ever since he noticed it was never in stock he was determined to find it.
Steve had complained to you about how the flavor was specifically evading him, because he had seen plenty of girls whip it out almost tauntingly at Family Video. You listened to his wild ranting, knowing damn well that you had the exact thing he was looking for tucked up in the vanity in your room. But that wasn't for him to know, at least not yet. You were saving that for a special occasion.
And said special occasion had arrived faster than you anticipated.
One year. One full year with your beautiful boyfriend, Steve. A year of Steve being the best boyfriend you could have asked for. A year full of thoughtful dates, gestures, gifts, conversations, long nights. And while the whole chapstick game had only been going on a few months, you figured this was the perfect time to put an end to his suffering journey.
The day had been absolutely perfect. Steve had managed to convince Keith to give him the full day off weeks in advance, had double checked a week before, and triple checked the day before.
He had arrived at your house at exactly 9:45 AM, knocking gently on your front door with a hand picked bouquet of wildflowers. You opened the door, eyes already sparkling at the mere sight of him and that sweet smile.
He drove you to a breakfast joint, hand not leaving yours unless there was a door to be held open. After breakfast, the two of you shopped around the local stores in Hawkins. You bought Steve a vinyl he had been eyeing for weeks, and he bought you the next book in the series you were currently reading.
The day was full of sickeningly sweet smiles, cute conversations, loving looks, and tender touches. It was perfect.
After dinner at Enzo's, you went back to Steve's house. His parents were of course on some ridiculously long vacations, not that Steve minded anymore. At least not the way he used to mind it. Because now, he had you to fill the house. Where before, the only sounds that Steve was used to hearing in the house was his own breathing and the tv, there was now your laughter, your voice, the very essence of you that filled the home.
You and Stever were sprawled out on the carpet of his bedroom floor, his new vinyl playing softly in the back, paper supplies covering the space. You were busy decorating the wooden frame with small gems and sparkles, while Steve kept checking the positioning of the picture in his frame. A picture of the two of you smiling like idiots at each other, captured by Jonathan, sat nestled perfectly between the frame and the glass. Steve had carefully decorated the frame with paper hearts in your favorite color.
"Mkay, I think I'm done!" You smiled, holding the frame up and admiring your work.
"Lemme see." Steve looked up from his own creation, smiling as you turned yours around. And while the frame was beautifully decorated, Steve couldn't manage to take his eyes off the photo. "Stunning."
"Steve, you're not even looking at the frame." You laughed.
"Can't help it, you just look so beautiful in that picture, baby."
You turned it around, looking at the photo again. You smiled at the image, "Mhm, and you look rather handsome, I suppose."
"You suppose?" He feigned a hurt expresion.
"Can't bolster your ego too much or it'll go straight to your hair."
"You mean head?"
"No. I mean hair. Whenever you're feeling suuuuper confident your hair gets like 10 times bigger." You teased.
His jaw dropped, a hand coming up and patting his hair gently. "It does not!"
"Totally does." You bit back a laugh as he sat up, glaring at you with no real malice.
"Well I don't hear you ever complaining about it." He crossed his arms.
You rolled your eyes, sitting up and carefully placing the frame up on his desk, "Yeah cause I keep you humble and therefore keep your hair at a reasonable height."
Steve laughed, eyes following your movements. "You're so mean to me."
You crossed your legs, humming as you finished off the drink beside you. "You're right where you want to be."
Steve nodded, "Sure am." He placed his frame next to yours, then took the empty glass from your hand without a second thought. "Refill?"
You nodded, gathering up all the supplies that littered the floor. Steve kissed your head before disappearing out of the room. You hustled, finishing cleaning up the mess before you rustled through your purse looking for your lip balm. You heard the stairs creak lightly as you pulled out the pink and blue tube. You hastily applied the chapstick to your lips, really lathering it against your lips before tucking the tube into your back pocket.
You flopped onto the bed inconspicuously right as Steve walked back into the room with your drink. You took it, placing it on the nightstand before patting the spot next to you on the bed. Steve sat beside you, an arm wrapping around your shoulders like it was second nature. He wordlessly reached over you for the remote, halting mid reach. He sniffed the air briefly, brows furrowing.
"Something wrong?" You held back the amusement in your voice.
He shook his head, grabbing the remote and settling back into place beside you, switching on the tv. "Whatcha wanna watch?"
You shrugged, snuggling into his side. "You pick."
"Alright, but don't complain about what I pick because you totally could've picked something."
You laughed, knowing damn well the movie would be forgotten within the next 2 minutes, "Whatever you say, baby."
Steve turned on some horror movie, secretly using it as a way to get you closer to him. Little did he know, you would be on him regardless of whatever movie he picked out.
Not even five minutes into the movie you shifted beside him, head in the crook of his neck, planting small kisses against his skin.
Steve blinked, caught off guard. You were almost never this bold. His arm around your shoulder tightened, the feeling of your lips on his skin sending jolts down his spine. He let out a happy sigh as your mouth slowly trailed up. That's when he caught it again.
That very faint smell. The smell he had been chasing down, so close. He pulled back slightly, grabbing your chin, eyes on your lips. He spotted the familiar shine of lip balm on your mouth, and his breath caught. He breathed in the scent, confirming his suspisions.
You smiled up at him sweetly, innocently, "What is it, baby?"
"You found it?" He questioned, ignoring the facade you were putting up.
"Why don't you find out?" Your arms snaked around his neck, fingers threading into the hair at the back of his head. You shifted closer, your lips brushing his playfully. The scent of cotton candy hit him like a freight train.
That small brush was all it took for Steve to break. His lips were on yours before you could blink. The kiss was unlike anything you had witnessed from him before, it was heavy and needy. Steve wasted no time swiping his tongue against your bottom lip, the sweet flavor flooding his senses. He pressed closer, his own lips smashed against yours so hard that it knocked the air out of your lungs. Steve's tongue traveled from the fat of your bottom lip to your own tongue, chasing down the sugary taste. He could taste it everywhere, your lips, your tongue mixed with his, it was all consuming. Steve breathed in through his nose, and even then the scent flooded him. He pulled and sucked on your bottom lip, as his hands dug into your hips. He hauled you over his lap, still on a mission to claim the sweet flavor on your lips.
Your head spun as he kissed you, your hands gripping his shoulders tightly as he continued his conquest on your mouth. A gentle moan slipped through as he pulled at your bottom lip with his teeth before smoothing it over with his tongue. You pressed yourself against him, eyes squeezed shut.
When the flavor had run out, Steve pulled back, breathing heavily. "Where did you find it?" He looked up at you with hazy eyes, his hands rubbing your hips. He guided your hips against his own, watching the way your breath caught at the friction as you tried to catch your own breath.
"Didn't find it. I've always had it, baby." You confessed.
He stared up at you, immediately understanding your little scheme. "You're a little minx, holding out on me for so long. You got it with you, baby?" He pressed you down harder, admiring how your eye lashes fluttered.
You bit your lip, nodding. "Mhm, back pocket."
Steve's hand briefly left your hips, squeezing your ass before pulling the Lip Smackers from the pocket in your jeans. You dragged your hips against his roughly, head falling onto his shoulder at the contact. Despite the layers separating you from him, you should feel him beneath you, and you needed more.
Steve uncapped the small tube, gripping your chin firmly and reapplying the lip balm to your lips and then to his own. You watched him with glossy eyes as he pressed long kisses to your neck, transfering the balm onto your skin. After covering your neck, he pulled your lips against his again.
Now you could taste the sugary flavor on him. You could taste the way it conjoined with the balm already on your own lips, the scent washing over you hard. Steve groaned, letting the taste take control of him. His hands slipped under your shirt, his skin hot against yours. You pulled at his hair, a slight whimper falling from his lips. He had never felt so addicted to something in his life. All his senses told him that kissing you, tasting you, was like oxygen, it was a need.
Steve kissed you until your lips were red, swollen, and tingly. He moved on from your mouth back down to your neck where he had previously left purposeful traces of the lip balm on your skin. Steve worked your neck like it was water in the middle of a drought. He kissed, teethed, pulled, sucked, and smoothed over the skin, leaving bruises in his wake.
You smiled, already in absolute bliss as you rolled against him while he latched onto your neck. Neither of you were quite sure when your jeans had come off or when he had followed suit. But you could feel him fully, and it was almost painful the way you needed him.
You pulled his face away from the top of your chest. He looked up at you with heavy eyes, breathing heavy. "God, you're addicting."
You smiled, thumb brushing his swollen lip. "I think you just really like cotton candy."
He shook his head, "No, I like cotton candy on you. You make it taste even better than it is, you make it compelling. Like I need to taste all of you, every square inch, or I'll die without it, die without you."
You cupped his face, "I need you too, baby. So bad. Please, take what you need, take me, all of me."
Steve stared up at you, eyes deep in yours. He laid you down on the covers, hovering over you briefly as you reapplied the lip balm to his lips. You bit down on your lip, hand in his hair as he kissed lower and lower and lower.
If you had learned anything from that night it was that; 1- you needed way better concealer, 2- Steve was a MUNCH, and 3- you were going to need a lot more cotton candy flavored lip balm.
And luckily for Steve, it seemed the universe had lifted whatever curse had been keeping him away from the elusive chapstick. Because now, it seemed as though every time he went into a store, he came out with at least one more small tube of the sugary sweet flavor.
Summary: older!Steve talks you through it cuz heâs just so big
Cw: smut, piv, fingering, finger sucking, softdom!steve, age gap, babying
Wc: 1k
"princess im home" steve called out from down the hall as he began to take off his shoes.
in an instant you jumped up from where you were on the sofa, discarding your half drunk second glass of wine and scuttling down to find steve.
"there's my girl- woah"
he grunted as you threw yourself into his arms, dropping his bag and wrapping his arms tight around you.
"well hello babygirl" he chuckled into your hair, hands travelling to your ass cheeks to haul you up off the floor.
"missed you so much stevie" you whispered into his neck, just below his ear.
"oh yeah?"
"yeah- been waiting for you all afternoon"
you pulled back from his neck, hands running through his hair as you leant forward to hastily kiss him.
wasting no time, he blindly walked down the halls, finding and kicking open the door to your bedroom.
breaking the kiss, you latched onto steve's neck, sucking and biting desperately as you began to roll your hips in his hold.
"someone's needy"
gently laying you down on the bed, steve climbed over you, peppering kisses up your chest and neck until he reached your face.
"stevieeee" you whined
"shh bunny, i'm gonna take care of you"
he carefully removed your matching pyjama set, mumbling about how much he loved it before straightening up and allowing your grabby hands to pull at his own tshirt.
caressing your boobs and toying at your hard nipples with one hand, the other pulled at his belt, removing it and undoing his jeans whilst your shaky hands made a pathetic attempt to help.
âprincess, just lay backâ steve said with amusement, taking your hands in one of his big ones and holding them above your head.
âpleaseâ
âi amâ he cooed, letting go of your hands to cup your jaw.
with your hands out of his way, steve made quick work in freeing himself, his large cock springing out, hard and flushed.
lips parting on instinct, your mouth watered as you stared at steveâs dick with wide eyes.
âdonât worry bunny, itâll be all yours in a minuteâ
âi-â
you began to talk, mouth open just enough for steve to push his thumb into it and cut you off from whatever whiny comment you were going say.
his other hand came between your legs, parting your thighs easily before dipping his fingers between your folds.
the light touch made you dizzy, so desperate and wet for steve, moaning around his thumb.
his fingertips dragged through your slick, smearing it over your lips before finding your achy, puffy clit.
âsteveeeâ
two fingers plunged into you, burring deep into your warm core, curling up and instantly finding the spot that made you squirm.
steve kept his thumb in your mouth, muffling your cries and whimpers whilst his other thumb rubbed over your clit in soft circles.
the coil in your lower stomach tightened uncontrollably quickly, making your thighs tremble and back arch as you came undone on his fingers.
as he eased his fingers from your cunt, he removed his thumb from your mouth, rubbing it over your cheek leaving a shiny strip under your eye.
moaning around his own fingers, he cleaned them off, tasting your orgasm on them, making a show of it for you.
âtaste so good- could never get enoughâ
âstop teasing- i need your cockâ
letting go of his fingers with a wet pop, he leaned down to your face, lips brushing over yours.
âwhat do we say?â
âpleaseâ
âgood girlâ
he crashed his lips into yours, settling between your legs as his hand gripped himself, rubbing his tip up your slit, coating it in your juices.
âpleaseâ you whined again against steveâs mouth, so impatient for him.
your breath caught as you felt his head at your entrance, pushing shallowly against the wet opening.
âyou know what to doâ he groaned and you nodded. âdeep breath, baby- yeah there you goâ
you inhaled heavily then held as steve pushed in all the way, slowly but smoothly until he was fully buried inside you.
âatta girl, cmon breath for meâ
you made a few shaky breaths before it evened out, breathing through the sharp stretch of steveâs cock splitting you open until it faded into agonising pleasure.
âgood?â
âso good- feel so fullâ you slurred out, eyes rolling back.
âso full arenât you princessâ he pushed on your lower stomach making you cry out and your eyes water. âfeel that?â
âI- so- ughâ
âso deep you canât even speak? oh my babyâ steve cooed right against your cheek, pressing his lips to the soft skin.
so slowly you almost didnât notice, steve started to roll his hips in a shallow circle, just grazing your walls with each thrust.
âthat okay bunny?â
âmhmmmâ
he got more confident, his hips gradually speeding up and hitting deeper and deeper as your whines and mewls got louder and louder.
your hands were in his hair, then around his neck, then gripping his shoulders before your nails scratched down his back. under your fingers, you felt his muscles flex with each thrust of his hips.
he settled into a brutal pace eventually, forcing his cock into you so deep you felt him in your lungs, hot sparks of pleasure shooting through your veins
âyou feel so good baby, so fucking wet. you been thinking about this all day?â
you nodded frantically, messily attempting to kiss his lips in which your missed and just ended up licking over his jaw.
âmissed me so much you needed me to come home and fuck you stupidâ
âyeaaaah- donât stopâ
âwouldnât fucking dream of itâ his hands cradled your face, dropping his forehead to yours.
âstevie- m so closeâ
âfuck- cum for me baby girl, wanna feel you squeezing meâ
the band snapped and you cried out, throwing your head backwards and arching your back, your chest pressing against steveâs.
âoh yeaaah- gonna- fuck- cum. take it princess, be a good girl and take my cumâ
steve groaned into your neck as he frantically attempted a few more thrusts before stilling deep inside you and pumping your fluttering cunt full of his hot cum until it was pouring out from around his length.
warnings: time travel au, head injury, fainting, slow burn, season three adjacent, fluff, strangers to lovers
You wake up in the backrooms of Scoops Ahoy with a pounding headache, no idea how you got there, and a sailor boy insisting youâre not dead. The only problem? Itâs 1985 and youâve time travelled forty years into the past
âHeyâŚhey, are you okay?â The voice was distant, muffled, like it had to fight through water just to reach you. Your eyelids fluttered open, everything was blurry. A pounding ache bloomed at the back of your head, forcing a pained groan from your lips.
You reached up instinctively, your fingertips brushing against what was already beginning to swell. You mustâve hit it hardâbut on what?
The last thing you remembered was hiking through the woods at summer camp. The afternoon had been unbearably warm, youâd wandered off trail after spotting what looked like a strange creek shimmering between the trees.
It was a crack that looked like it shouldnât have been there. Youâd taken one step closer, and suddenly, the ground beneath you disappeared. Your vision slowly sharpened, revealing a pair of worried brown eyes staring back at you.
They belonged to a boy crouched beside you, his thick chestnut hair perfectly styled despite the obvious panic written across his face. He wore a white sailor uniform trimmed with navy blue, a bright red neckerchief tied beneath the collar, and a little sailor hat perched crookedly on his head.
It was, without question, the most ridiculous outfit youâve ever seen. ââŚAm I dead?â You mumbled.
The boy blinked bewilderingly. âWhat?â
Beside him, a girl in the exact same uniform snorted. âI mean,â she shrugged. âIf heaven makes people wear these uniforms, Iâd rather not find out.â
The boy shot her a heavy glare. âRobin.â
She shrugged her shoulders. âWhat? You know Iâm right.â
He sighed before turning his attention back to you. âI promise youâre not dead.â He reassured.
At least that was good, but then a beat passed. âWhere am I?â You asked again, the white walls surrounding you were certainly not helping.
The two exchanged a glance. âUh,â the girl said slowly. âThe storage room.â
âThe storage room?â You repeated, how the hell did you get from the middle of the woods into a storage room?
âBehind Scoops ahoy.â She completed, thinking it would clear things up.
You stared at her blankly. âIâmâŚsorry, behind what?â
Now they looked just as confused as you felt. Before she could answer, the sailor boy carefully offered you his hand. âCan you stand?â
After a second's hesitation, you carefully slipped your hand into his. His grip was warm, strong as he tightened his fingers around yours. He slowly pulled you upright, steadying you when the room tilted beneath your feet. âEasy,â he murmured.
The girl folded her arms, you couldnât help but feel slightly intimidated by her stare. âSo, wanna explain how you appeared out of literally nowhere?â
âIâŚâ you frowned. âI donât know.â
âYou donât know?â She repeated with a raised brow.
âI was at summer camp, and then I fell.â But as you were repeating your memories, they felt far away, like you had been dreaming.
âInto our storage room?â She asked slowly.
âApparently.â You sighed, the wound on the back of your head wasnât getting any better, your limbs feeling sore from the fall.
âWhatâs your name?â The girl asked, and you answered automatically.
âIâm Robin.â Then she pointed beside her. âAnd the sailor boyâs Steve.â
Steve looked mildly offended, the costume had already done enough damage to his confidence, the last thing he needed was Robin embarrassing him in front of a girl. âJust Steve, Steve Harrington.â
âI thought sailor boy covered it.â Robin defended herself.
âIt doesnât.â You couldnât help the small laugh that escaped you, the sound seemed to relax all three of you.
âDo either of you have a phone?â You cut in. âI really need to call camp.â
âA phone?â Steve repeated.
Robin frowned. âThereâs a pay phone outside.â She pointed.
You shook your head. âNo, I mean your cell phone.â You mimicked holding one.
There were only blank stares around the room, complete silence. ââŚPortable?â
You laughed nervously. âSeriously?â You looked between them.
Steve rubbed the back of his neck. âI think she hit her head harder than we thought.â
âWho doesnât have a phone in 2026?â You muttered to yourself.
Robins eyebrows shot up, catching your words. âTwenty-twenty six?â
You frowned, not sure why she sounded so surprised. âYeah?â
Steve chuckled, cross his arms across his chest. âOkay, yeah, good one.â
You looked between them. âIâm not joking.â
Robin smiled uncertainly. âYou do know itâs 1985, right? Thatâd be likeâŚforty years away.â
You choked out an incoherent sound. âWhat?â Neither of them laughed, the smile slowly slipped from your face. âStop messing with me.â You shook your head.
âWeâre notââ you pushed past them.
âNo.â The bell above the shop door jingled as you stumbled outside. Your feet froze in place, neon signs glowed from every corner, teenagers walked past in brightly colored windbreakers and high-waisted jeans.
The Starcourt mall stretched before you excatly like something ripped from an old movie. Your breathing quickened. âNoâŚâ
Steve and Robin hurried out behind you. âHey!â
You spun in a slow circle. âThis isnâtâŚâ your eyes landed on a newspaper someone had dropped near a bench. Hands shaking, you picked it up slowly.
June 28, 1985
The words blurred before your eyes, heartbeat thundering in your ears. You had only fellâthere was no wayâ
âNo, no, no,â the world tipped sideways, strong arms caught you before you could hit the ground, then everything went black.
The cool cloth pressed against the back of your head was the first thing you felt, then the dull ache. ââŚStill think we shouldâve called the ambulance.â
âAnd tell them what? âHey, this girl materialized in our storage room and claims sheâs from the future?ââ
Steve sighed, but he had no retort. Your eyes flew open, you shot upright so fast the cold compress slid into your lap. âNo!â
Steve nearly spilled the glass of water he was holding. âWhoaââ
Your chest rose and fell in frantic breaths as your eyes darted around the ice cream parlor. Taking in the striped walls, pastel booths, the same sailor uniforms. You werenât back at camp, you werenât in your room, you were still here.
âNo,â you whispered, shaking your head. âNo, no, no.â
Steve cautiously held out the glass. âYou passed outâagain.â
You stared at it for a second before accepting it with trembling hands. âI was hoping,â your voice cracked. âI was hoping Iâd wake up back home.â
Neither Steve nor Robin spoke, and the silence was somehow worse. âSo, so this is actually happening?â You laughed weakly.
Robin slowly nodded. âIâm afraid so.â
You buried your face into your hands, Steve leaned against the counter opposite you. âOkay.â His voice was calm. âYou really believe youâre from the future?â
You lowered your hands. âI know how insane it sounds.â
â2026?â She repeated your words from earlier, from when she thought you were fooling around with them. âAnd what exactly is 2026 like?â
You blinked, searching for words. âItâsâŚdifferent.â
âDifferent how?â She tilted her head at you.
âWell, we have tiny computers that fit in our pockets.â You answered.
Robin scoffed while Steve frowned. âYou mean a calculator?â He cut in.
âNo, like, actual computers. You can call people, take pictures, watch movies, listen to music, send textââ
âHold on.â Robin held up a hand. âAll on something that fits in your pocket?â
âPretty much.â You shrugged.
Before either of them could ask another question, the front doors of Scoops Ahoy flew open. âSteve!â A curly-haired boy wearing a bright Camp Knowhere T-shirt hurried towards the older boy, grinning ear to ear.
âDustin,â Steve responded with a smile. He wouldâve been more enthusiastic if there already wasnât a problem on their hands.
Just as Dustin looked over towards the bench, he froze, eyes landing on you. âWhoâs she?â He suddenly asked.
Steve rubbed his temples. âItâs complicated.â
Robin snorted in response. âSheâs from the future.â
Dustin blinked once, then twice, then burst out laughing. âGood one.â He wiped tears from his eyes.
âWeâre serious.â Steve said with a straight face, making his smile falter.
Dustin examined you more closely, pointing a finger at you. âYou?â
You offered an awkward little wave. âThats me, hi.â You could physically see the thoughts racing through his head, confusion, comprehension, and finally, curiosity.
âAre there flying cars in the future?â He immediately went into an interrogation.
You stuttered out a sound, before answering. âNope.â
He looked slightly let down before moving onto the next question. âDid we make contact with extraterrestrial life?â
âNot that I know of.â Your brows pinched together.
âCure for cancer? Do robots take over? Whoâs president? Did we stop climate change?â Questions flew faster than you could answer them, making your head spin all over again.
âDude.â Steve interrupted. âQuit it, youâve asked like twenty questions!â
âI have a lot of questions!â Dustin replied, as a science nerd, he needed to know everything.
You couldnât help letting out a small laugh. âItâs okay.â
Dustin instantly leaned closer. âSo,â he started. âHowâd you get here?â
You huffed. âI donât know, I was walking through the woods at summer camp.â He nodded along. âThen I sawââ you hesitated. âA crack.â
âA crack?â Dustin repeated.
âIn the ground. It wasnât supposed to be there.â You shook your head. âI got closer, and then I fell.â
Dustinâs expression suddenly changed, his playful smile disappearing. His eyes slowly widened. âYou mean, like, a crack in reality?â
âI guess? Itâs a bit fuzzy.â Robin looked between the two of you, but Dustin was thinking, really thinking.
âWhat if?â He lowered his voice, looking up at Steve. âWhat if itâs connected to the gate?â
The words hung in the air, Steveâs posture stiffened, but Robin still had no clue what they were talking about. âYou really thinkââ
âI donât know.â Dustin confessed. âBut weird portals showing up out of nowhere isnât exactly new around here.â
Before Steve could respond, crrrrkkttt. The radio beside Dustin erupted in a burst of harsh static, all four of you jumping.
Then came the sound of distorted voices speaking through the interference. Steve and Robin exchanged a look. âThats new.â
The radio sat between the four of you, emitting nothing but soft static. Steve sighed for what mustâve been the hundredth time that afternoon. âIâm telling you, Henderson, weâve listened to this thing for hours.â
Dustin ignored him, scribbling another page of various types of symbols into his notebook. âThere has to be a pattern.â
âThere is a pattern.â Steve muttered. âItâs called not English.â
Robin smirked. âI didnât know you were so perceptive, Harrington.â She perked up.
Steve gave her a sarcastic smile. âYeah, yeah.â
You sat quietly at the end of the end, your melted ice cream had begun dripping down the side of the cup. You hadnât taken a single bite. The excitement from earlier had faded, reality finally settled in, you werenât dreaming, you werenât hallucinating, you were stranded.
âHey.â Steveâs lowered voice pulled you from your thoughts. âYou okay?â
You forced a smile. âYeah.â He knew you were lying, right as he opened his mouth, the radio crackled and everyoneâs attention snapped towards it.
A familiar melody drifted through the static, Robinâs eyes widened. âWait, play that again.â She instructed, looking around.
Steve frowned. âWhat do you mean?â
âThe musicâthe one in the background!â She stood so suddenly her chair scarped against the floor. âIâve heard that before, itâs the same music that stupid horse plays outside.â
âCâmon!â She exclaimed, already rushing out of the shop. Minutes later, the four of you stood in front of the small mechanical horse in the center of Starcourt.
Steve reluctantly dropped another coin into the slot. âThis is ridiculous.â He sighed.
âJust ride the horse.â Robin urged him.
âIâm not riding the horse!â Steve denied, shaking his head.
âSteven.â With another sigh, Steve climbed ashamingly onto the plastic horse. The cheerful carousel music began to play, and Robin's eyes lit up. âThats it! Itâs the same song.â
Dustinâs face broke out into a grin. âWhich meansâŚâ
âItâs broadcasting from somewhere inside Hawkins.â She finished.
Dustin looked thoughtful for a moment, before his eyes landed on you. âAnd it started the same day she showed up.â Everyone turned towards you.
Your stomach tightened. âYou think theyâre connected?â You asked slowly.
âI donât know.â He admitted. âBut I donât believe in coincidences. If something strange brought you in here, maybe whateverâs behind that signal knows something.â For the first time all day, hope flickered inside you.
The sun had long dipped below the horizon by the time Scoops Ahoy closed. Steve locked the front doors while Robin stretched her arms above her head.
âSo,â everyone looked at you once again. âWhere are you sleeping tonight?â
Your expression fell. âIâŚâ You hadnât even thought about it, and now the thought felt daunting. âI donât exactly have anywhere.â
âI canât bring her home.â Robin said. âMy mom would know the second I try to sneak another person in.â
Dustin raised both hands. âMe too, I donât have any space.â
Silence fell over the group, and slowly, they both turned towards Steve. He stared back, clueless. âWhat?â
Robin smiled innocently. âYou said your parents are gone all the time.â She pointed out.
His brown eyes narrowed. âButââ
âShe could stay with you, just until we figure this whole thing out.â She said. You suddenly found the floor incredibly interesting.
After a long pause, âokay.â Your head lifted. âI mean,â he rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly. âJust for tonight.â
Relief flooded your face. âThank you.â You sighed gratefully.
His cheeks warmed, eyes flickering everywhere but you. âYeahâno problem.â
Steveâs house was enormous, and the silence inside somehow made it even bigger. In your time, people barely could afford rent, so him having this all to himself blew you away.
He disappeared upstairs before returning a minute later carrying an armful of clothes. âTheyâre probably gonna be huge.â He offered them forwards.
You accepted them with a smile. âTheyâre perfect.â
You left to change in the bathroom, and he was right. The sweatshirt hung halfway down your thighs, the sleeves swallowed your hands completely, it smelled faintly of laundry detergent, and something elseâSteve cologne, oddly comforting.
When you stepped back into the bedroom, Steve looked up from where heâd been gathering pillows. Heâd changed himself, into more casual wear, grey sweatpants and an old shirt.
He looked more relaxed, more like the boy beneath the costume. âThey fit?â He asked when he noticed your return.
You nodded. âYou know,â you said, folding your arms. âI think I liked the sailor outfit better.â
Steve let out an incredulous laugh. âSeriously?â
âItâll always be my first impression of you.â You laughed. He rolled his eyes, a grin tugging at the corners of his lips.
âIâll pretend that was a compliment.â He stated. Even if he wasnât wearing the uniform anymore, heâd always be sailor boy in your eyes.
âYou can take the bed.â Steve spoke once he straightened up. âIâll sleep on the couch.â
You fiddled with the edge of the fabric of his clothing. âYou donât have toââ
âI donât mind.â He brushed off, flicking off the bedside lamp as darkness settled over the room.
You slowly settled onto the sheets, but when he reached the doorway, your voice called out softly. âSteve?â
His hand paused on the frame, still keeping his back facing you. âY-yeah?â
Your fingers tightened around the blanket. âCould you stay?â Your voice was barely above a whisper.
He finally turned around, swallowing thickly. The moonlight spilling through the window illuminated your features just enough for him to see your face. At that moment, you sounded terrified. Youâd lost your home, your family, you were sent to a time that may as well be a completely different world.
Something inside Steveâs chest clenched, heâd spent the whole day trying to figure out how to send you back, though he hadnât stopped to think about how frightening this must be for you.
âYeah, alright.â He agreed softly, giving you a reassuring smile. A few minutes later, he spread a blanket and pillow on the floor beside the bed.
The room fell silent again, looking down you could see him curled up in your direction. âGoodnight,â you murmured.
ââNight.â Steve whispered. For the first time since waking up in 1985, you didnât feel quite so alone.
summary: You only meant to write an article about the fall of King Steve Harrington. Somewhere between the interviews, the experiments, and the late-night drives, you forgot he was supposed to be your story â not the boy you fell for. ⥠LOOSELY INSPIRED BY "HOW TO LOSE A GUY IN TEN DAYS (2003)"
pairing: steve harrington x reader
w/c: 13k (I lost the plot)
a/n: i literally fever dreamed this so im hoping it comes across good because i totally blanked out writing this haha đ this is all brain and vibes. thank u for reading, and reblogs are appreciated!! enjoy <3
content warnings: angst, slow burn-ish tension, emotional hurt/comfort, bittersweet longing, (one bed trope kind of), observant/highly sensitive reader, mentions of nancy wheeler, miscommunication, interrupted kisses, public confessions, steve harrington being sad and soft (yay!), reader being a stubborn high school journalist, hopeful ending, etc
âŞď¸ my masterlist
By the time the final bell rang, the newsroom already smelled of hot dust, old paper, and somebodyâs disgusting coffee of choice.
It was not really a newsroom, not in the way you truly wanted it to be. It was a converted classroom at the end of the English hall with two long tables shoved together, a crooked bulletin board covered in deadlines, and a mimeograph machine that coughed ink onto everyoneâs fingers. The overhead lights hummed with a flat, yellow patience.
Outside the narrow windows, Hawkins High School settled into its usual afternoon disorder; lockers slamming, sneakers squeaking, and boys yelling too loudly because silence made them feel small. Typical behaviors.
You had spent three nights on your article.
Three nights with your notes spread across your desk, your pencil worn down to a nub, and your mother calling from downstairs that dinner was getting cold. Three nights reading through library clippings about school funding, college acceptance rates, and the way girls in Hawkins were politely encouraged toward âpracticalâ futures while boys with half of your grades were told they had potential. You had interviewed four seniors, two teachers, one guidance counselor who had smiled at you with the concerned tenderness adults reserved for girls they planned to ignore.Â
It was practically perfect.
You had written it carefully. Not angrily, though you had to admit that anger had lived under every line you wrote, warming the words from dpwn below. You had made it clean, sharp, and correctly sourced. You had imagined your byline on the front page. You had victoriously imagined holding the paper in your hands and seeing proof that all the hours you spent noticing things nobody asked you to notice had finally become something real.
The reaction to it, unfortunately, had left much to be desired.
Mr. Walsh held the pages in one hand and adjusted his glasses with the other. His voice was polite enough, but it held that familiar detachment.
âItâs very thorough,â he noted with a faint nod of his head towards the article.
You knew you were absolutely dead, or rather, any hopes of seeing a cover page was.
Across the table, Mark Ellison leaned back in his chair, tapping his pencil against his front teeth. His article was a soft little thing about âschool spirit making a comeback,â built around three quotes from basketball players and one sweeping paragraph about how Hawkins High had âsurvived difficult years by pulling togetherâ. He had written it during study hall. You had watched him do it while eating chips from a vending machine. You had also watched him pay more attention to his stupid Walkman than his article.
Mr. Walsh then gave Markâs pages a fond pat from beside you. You had to physically stop yourself from letting the steam errupt from your expression, and curled your fingers into your palm. You didn't, however, hide the scoff when the teacher told the boy his next words.
âI think this is what we need above the fold this week. Something upbeat. The townâs had enough heaviness, donât you think?â
The room moved on. You couldn't even get another word in before everything decided it was time to start up again. That only served further in building up your irritation.Â
Someone asked about the sports column, someone else complained that the typewriter ribbon was fading again, and most annoyingly, Mark grinned without trying to look too pleased, which made him only look worse. You sat very still with your hands folded over your notebook, your nails continuing to press little moons into your palms.
âMaybe we can run yours inside,â Mr. Walsh added, almost kindly. You hated how he made it seem like it was somehow charitable of him to do so. After all, his excuses were always relatively the same. âItâs strong work. Just a bit⌠intense for the front page.â
Intense.
You looked down at your notes until the letters blurred into a block of black.
That was what they always called girls who didn't make unfairness easier to swallow for others. Intense. Difficult. Ambitious in a tone that meant unattractive. Boys were driven. Boys were promising. Boys were leaders, even when they had to borrow a pencil to write a paragraph about pep rallies. Even when half of them couldn't even write clean enough for legitimacy on papers of loose leaf.
You smiled promptly then because you knew how to make adults comfortable. You weren't so sure your face was able to hide your growing annoyance, though. It was practically humiliating in its steady routine, but you'd learned over the years Mr. Walsh was as stubborn as the donkey he was named after.
âSure,â you gave a small exhale alongside your smile, your tone was too light to be breezy and far too sweet to be real. âInside is fine.â
Inside was not fine.
At lunch, you stabbed your fork into a pile of cafeteria mashed potatoes until they lost their shape entirely. With a cheek resting in hand, the sight of the sullen plate reflected your own inner turmoil. Conversational chatter flattered about around you.
âHe said it was intense?â One friend asked, sitting across from you with a carton of milk she had not opened. âEverything's intense to that guy. Mr. Walsh wears the same brown sweater every day and once called Pat Benatar âtoo confrontational.ââ
âHe didnât say Markâs article was intense,â you muttered with poorly disguised disgust. Your brows twitched together and your eyes flicked up in a roll. The moment replayed in your head, Mark getting far too much praise for something he spent the better half of an hour listening to Olivia John-Newton, though he'd refuse the accusation vehemently if questioned.
âThatâs because Markâs article has the emotional range of a gym sock,â your friend Stacey said from beside you. She had bright blue eyeliner, a talent for gossip, and the terrifying confidence of someone who had never once doubted she deserved to take up space. You admired her for that. âYou need something undeniable.â
âI had something undeniable.â the response came almost petulant, and if you were still holding onto the leverage that you had a shoe-in for an article, you'd have refrained from saying it.
âNo,â Stacey clicked her tongue, pointing her plastic spoon at you. âYou had something true. Thatâs different. Truth makes people sleepy unless thereâs blood on it.â
Leah made a face, looking down at the strawberry jam on her cake slice, and promptly pushed it forward. âPlease never go into medicine.â
You tried not to laugh and failed halfway, the sound catching in your throat before it could become anything that felt good. For a moment, there was something besides that sense of annoyed displacement.Â
The cafeteria around you churned with noise. Trays clattered, and somebody at the far end started chanting for reasons that probably involved a dare and milk coming out of someoneâs nose. You let the spark of clear judgement light through your expression as you looked over to the basketball table occupied its usual territory near the windows.
They were loud enough to own the room without having to ask, a result of years of indulged arrogance, you could only assume. Tommy H. was telling a story with both hands, his laugh sharp and performative. A few juniors watched him the way freshmen used to watch Steve Harrington.
Steve did not sit with them anymore, that was something practically everyone noticed since last year.
He sat two tables away from the old crowd, alone with a slice of pizza gone stiff at the edges. His hair was still perfect in the way that seemed less accidental the longer you looked at it, all careful lift and feathered brown shine.
His shoulders filled out his yellow polo, but they were rounded inward today, one hand pressed against his temple while he stared at a textbook he did not seem to be reading. There was a bruise near his jaw, faded yellow at the edges. His eyes kept moving toward the basketball table and then away before anyone caught him looking.
King Steve, deposed but still dressed for court.
Stacey followed your gaze. Her mouth curved before you could shove it away off of her.
âIf you want the front page,â she brightened up with a revived vigor, âyou have to write about the biggest tragedy in Hawkins.â
Leah, unfortunately, looked too.
âOh Staceâ, I don't think that's a goodââ she was swiftly cut off by your mutual friends voice dipped in delight
âThe fall of King Steve,â Stacey finished and you gasped at her.
You snorted without ceremony promptly, her words did less to entice you and more to amuse you. If there was anything you couldn't find yourself caring less to write about, it would be about anything involving Steve Harrington. âThatâs not an article.â
âIt is absolutely an article! Itâs got everything. Popularity. Masculine fragility. Hair products.â
Leah leaned forward then, lowering her voice. She looked besides you two with a more hesitant approach, her eyes flicked to the table a few feet away from you. âAlso maybe just leave him alone? He looks one spilled pudding cup away from a complete collapse.â
âThatâs the point,â Stacey had taken to promptly ignoring the two of you. âWhat happens when a guy builds his whole identity on being wanted, and then people stop wanting him?â
The words landed before the joke did.
You looked at Steve again. He dragged a hand through his hair, then immediately seemed to regret it, patting the front back into place with a reflex so automatic it made your chest pinch in spite of yourself. If you were to compare it to anything, it would be akin to a kid being filmed for a birthday party. It held the familiar awareness of being all too stiff, even in the singular companionship of just himself.
A whole identity built on being wanted.
The cafeteria lights flashed across the windows as usual. Outside, October had pulled Hawkins into a cold, colorless stretch of afternoon. The trees beyond the parking lot shivered with half-bare branches, leaves gathered wetly along the curb. It was a domestic background that you've memorized in routine these past four years.Â
You pulled your notebook from your bag suddenly. Stacy's words had flicked on a small lightbulb in your brain.
Leah's brown eyes blinked wearily on you as the next few minutes were received in silence from your side, only the sound of pen to paper filling your ears. âOh, God. Stacey, you broke her.â
You rolled your eyes at that.
âI inspired her.â Stacey gave a self assured correction, her fingers going up as if it would further solidify her point.
There was no real attention paid to your friends for the next whirlwind of time, and you clicked your pen every so often in an attempt to soften the strokes of ink.
At the top of a previous blank page, you had written:
The Lifecycle of a High School God: why a crown crushes a king.
Stacey leaned over your shoulder and let out a delighted gasp.
âThat is disgusting,â Leah immediately. Her eyes widened and she threw you a look that your promptly avoided.Â
âItâs not, it's anonymous⌠and a work in progress,â you murmured in weak retaliation, already thinking faster than you could write. âStacy's right, it'd be a good article. How we make gods out of boys and then act shocked when they donât know how to be human.â
Leahâs expression softened in a way you did not want to look at too closely. Realistically, you realized this might be a bit too cruel. But you were already on your verge, and no matter how absurd the idea had seemed before â you could admit held strong potential.Â
âAnd Harrington?â
You watched him push his tray away untouched, and your gaze was less detached than you had been before.
âSteve is the case study.â
You told yourself that made it cleaner, and you also told yourself a lot of things that week. Things that in hindsight, mightâve been necessary to proceed with caution.
â
You approached him after basketball practice on a Wednesday, when the hallway outside the gym smelled most strongly of rubber, sweat, and floor wax. Most of the team members had already spilled toward the locker room, their voices echoing against the cinderblock walls. Steve came out last, a gym bag slung over one shoulder, and damp hair falling looser than usual around his forehead.
He looked tired enough that the sight of him made your plan wobble. It was one thing to think this out carefully and assume control, and it was another to actually act it out.Â
Then, finally, he glanced up and saw you waiting by his locker.
You pushed off the wall before you could think better of it. Any further delay would only serve in faltering you more.Â
âHarrington,â you called out firmly, letting your voice carry the boldness you had practiced in your mirror. Though, you weren't entirely sure you properly hid the wince that came with addressing him like that. âIâve been looking for you.â
His eyebrows lifted then, that was what you'd noticed first. His face seemed to twitch in a complicated way, his face didn't hold a smirk, not right away at least. Surprise was there first. Real surprise, open and unguarded enough to make you feel briefly cruel. Your tried not to ponder on him for too long.
âFor me?â his voice held a sincere curiosity that had you irritated at repeating yourself.
âNo, the other guy with gravity-defying hair and a tragic aura.â
That got him.
A breath left him, almost a laugh, you saw the movement happen in real time. He leaned his shoulder against the locker, trying to recover his balance by looking casual. His thumb hooked into his belt loop. His shining eyes flicked over your face, landed on your mouth for half a second too long, then jumped back up.
You really had to refrain from the scoff that wished to escape you.Â
âTragic aura,â he repeated, his eyes twisted in a regained stability. His voice was more awkward than you remembered it being, strangely that'd been your first true thought of him. âWow. Thatâs, uh⌠thatâs new.â
You gave a low hum in response. âIâm a journalist. We notice things.â
âIs that why youâre here? To notice me?â
The line should have been smooth. You could actively hear him reaching for an older version of himself, the one who would have tilted his head and let girls do the work of melting. But his voice caught on the last word. Not much, but it was just slightly enough that you felt something in you feel successful.
You smiled, the formation stretched across your face as you cleared your throat softly. âI need help.â
Now, he seemed a bit confused, his head tilted slightly in a way that reminded you of the neighborhood poodle. You let a smile turn slightly genuine at the semblance found between the two.Â
âWith?â
You stepped closer finally, and you stepped close enough to see the faint line where his tan had started to fade at his throat, and certainly close enough to catch the smell of clean soap beneath sweat and cologne.
âUnderstanding someone.â the words came out a bit hesitant, not at all like the suaveness you had practiced by standing in front of your bathroom mirror.
His gaze sharpened a little. Instinct took over him well. âSomeone?â
âA boy,â you said quickly. Whatever it was that appeared in your face seemed to have gotten to him.
You saw the ghost of King Steve ever so slightly stir in movement in him. His mouth curved, one corner first, then another. It was almost unfair how quickly he could change expressions, and even worse so, that each expression of his seemed to cause your nerves to fray.
âWell, lucky for you, I happen to be an expert.â
Your eyes flickered to his, though not before you let your gaze find the small details of his face that were only exposed up close. âYou do?â
âFormer expert,â he amended, and something dry entered his voice. âMy credentials are under review.â
You laughed before you meant to. You couldn't help it at the moment. It came out too genuine and his face changed with it. Not entirely dramatic, though. He just went still, the way people did when a sound touched some starved part of them. His own pools of hazel seemed to be too flittery for someone you were sure had done this plenty of time before. Still, against your better judgment, you kept staring into his eyeline.
You should have written that down later, a faint voice echoed through your head. Not the eyes part, you quickly denied and even got upset at yourself for supplying the image. You really should have been memorizing any small part he'd exposed, even more of the behavior you were out to conquer.
Instead, you remembered the exact angle of his shoulder against the locker, the wet curl slipping toward his eyebrow, the way he looked at you with confusion and cautious interest and a kind of bruised hope that had no place in your article.
You tilted your chin, chewing on the bottom of your lip by pure instinct. By now, you were close enough to have to tilt your head up to meet his gaze. You blinked, breaking whatever power he seemed to have had momentarily to have you swept up and cleared your throat.
Your voice was back to being confident again, since practice made perfect. âPick me up Friday?â
His mouth caught in a faint sputter, you could tell you had caught him completely off guard. Faintly, as if it were a bodily response, you softened your smile into something smaller, tilting up at him for the silent moment.
âFriday,â he said after a beat. Steveâs voice seemed to have taken a breathless edge now. It did something all weird and wonky to you. âYeah. I can do Friday.â
âSeven.â
âSeven,â he repeated, and appearing to remember he wasn't an apparition, Steve's body seemed to lean toward yours as he continued. âWhere are we going?â
You hadn't thought that far. Instead of deciding on the spot, you bit the inside flesh of your cheek as an amused exhale escaped your lips.
âYouâre the expert, Harrington. Impress me.â
You walked away before your nerve gave out. You could feel him watching you down the hall, could feel the whole plan beginning to take shape behind your ribs. You had even taken to looking through your sosters old magazines for inspiration. Hot and cold. Interest and withdrawal. Private sincerity, public disruption. All those where supposed to be tactics to reuse interest in relationships, but you figured that the same could also be said for an indirect character study.Â
Observe the subject under changing social conditions. Note responses. Analyze, that had been your plan split up into groups.
You were very good at making terrible ideas sound academic.
â
On Friday, his Beamer waited by the curb under a sky the color of sad, wet cement.
He got out when he saw you, which you hated because it was exactly the kind of performative gentleman routine you had expected, and also because he did it without checking if anyone was watching. That complicated your observations, causing a flutter to go through you. He wore a brown leather jacket over a striped shirt, jeans that fit him too well, and that expensive cologne that seemed built into the mythology of him.
Ralph Lauren, Stacey had said with the authority of a girl who knew these things and lived vicariously through others. It mixed with the leather and the faint sweet smell of cherry chapstick when he opened the passenger door.
"Aren't you going to get in,â Steve gave you a wounded look. His head was tilted down slightly towards you and it seemed like he was more offended you had even made an attempt to reach for the door.Â
You looked at the open door in his hand, feeling less like a mastermind and more like a nervous girl. âDo you do that for all your dates?â
Steve's hand went up to run the back of his neck as he let out a weak exhale, the ghost of a smile on his face. âOnly the intimidating ones.â
You slid into the car after that, tucking your notebook deep inside your bag where he would not see it. The seats were cold through your skirt. The dashboard glowed amber when he turned the key, washing his face in soft light as the engine rumbled awake.
He didn't take you to Enzoâs, where everyone went to be seen. He drove past the diner, past the arcade, past the bright places where Hawkins pretended it had a pulse. The town fell away into dark stretches of road bordered by skeletal trees and damp fields. Eventually he pulled into a small overlook above the park, where the swings moved gently in the wind below and the streetlamps made small gold circles on the path.
âThis is your idea of impressive?â you couldn't help the baffled tone that took over as you asked, but your voice had taken a softer lift.
He shrugged, fingers resting on the steering wheel. âYou said you wanted to understand someone. Hard to do that while watching someone like Tommy try to fit an entire breadstick in his mouth.â
âYouâre not friends with him anymore?â you didn't really need the answer, everyone practically knew the answer by now. But still, it's different to have someone tell you something by choice than admit knowledge by association.
His thumb moved along the stitching of the wheel. Back and forth. Back and forth.
âNot really.â
âWhy?â
He gave you a sideways look. âWow. Straight to it.â
âI told you. Inquisitive.â
âRight.â He exhaled through his nose, not quite laughing. The smile on his face was soft in its hesitancy. âI donât know. Stuff happened. I got tired. He got meaner. Or maybe he was like that, and I just stopped thinking it was funny.â
The words fell between the two of you in a hush.
You watched him in the dashboard light. Away from school, he seemed younger and older at once. Without the noise around him, without the audience, the space he occupied seemed to changed shape. He rubbed a hand over his face, then caught himself before he ruined his hair and dropped it to his lap. He did that a lot.
âYou okay?â he asked suddenly, breaking you out of your trance. You quickly gave a few hard blinks to refocus, you seriously had to stop doing that around him.
âWhat?â
âYouâre shivering.â
Were you? You hadn't noticed much besides him. âIâm fine.â
âYouâre obviously not fine.â
Before you could answer, he shrugged out of his leather jacket and draped it over your shoulders. The weight of it settled around you, warm from his body, lined with the smell of him so completely that your next breath came slower than the last.
âYouâll get cold,â you said, a frown finding its way on to your face. It was a cold evening in Hawkins, the chill more prominent than usual. Your worry was quickly shoved down by him.
Steve seemed to just fidget by habit now. The muscle in his forearms tensed and gained your attention as his arms crossed against his chest. He gave a slight shove and his smile was all teeth and unintentional charm.âIâm tough.â
Now, you didnât even bother to hide your scoff. A challenging twist of your brow appeared and you pointed out the faults in his words. âYou just complained about the heater not working.â
âIâm selectively tough,â his grin stayed and was backed up by a small chuckle.Â
You looked at him, and he looked back, and something quiet opened in the car.
The conversation shift quickly after that. You asked questions you had meant to use later. What did he want after graduation? He did not know. Where did he want to go? Away, maybe. Or nowhere. What was he afraid of? He made a joke at first, something about being left unsupervised with fireworks, and then he went quiet long enough for the windows to begin fogging at the edges.
âI donât think Iâm good at anything,â Steve told you after that. He said it plainly, almost casually, which made it worse. It was easier to dissect him clinically when he didn't wear that expression that caused you faltering to gain back control.Â
You shifted toward him, eyes dragging over him. They seemed darker with the setting say, but somehow they had something stored away that made you want to push back on his words. âThatâs not true.â
He gave you a look that unnerved you. âYou donât know that.â
You didn't let it get to you. You pushed through because for some reason, you felt like you couldn't stay silent. âI know you noticed I was cold before I did.â
The words had you faltering from the truth it held.
Steve gave a wry exhale, his head tilted back against his seat with his eyes on you. âThatâs not a skill.â
Your voice felt firmer now. âIt is, actually.â
He stared out through the windshield. Below, the park sat empty and silvered by frost. You couldn't really focus on that, not when Steve sat besides you looking less like the king you knew and more like a boy you wanted to know. You couldn't even process the words before Steve continued in. âNancy used to say I had good instincts when I got out of my own way.â
Nancy.
There it was. The bruise beneath the bruise. It wasn't one you were exactly shocked to hear, the whole sum of Hawkins new about the romance between the Wheeler daughter and him. Still, you weren't going deny the tinge of discomfort you felt at the mention.
What? Why were you uncomfortable? You immediately shut down the thought. A hard clearing of your throat helped stabilize yourself. You had to remind yourself that you weren't here for whatever reason that your body seemed to mistake. Instead, you focused on the task at hand, or at least tried to. You should have leaned in then when his head bowed slightly. You should have gathered the quote, traced the wound back to its social function, and built your thesis brick by brick.
You settled on something else, because strangely, anything else seemed harsh. âShe sounds smart.â
âShe is.â
The words carried no bitterness. That threw you off. You'd have known guys to turn completely hostile after break-ups, and you couldn't even remember a time where someone from Steveâs circle stayed genuine for the moment. You'd completely expected him to talk badly about her, about the situation, and frankly just about anything and everything that came up. To place blame in everything that never warranted it.Â
You'd have felt more comfortable if he reacted like that. He didn't notice your turmoil.
âSheâs also right,â he added, turning back to you. His hazel eyes mesmerizing in its softness. âI get in my own way a lot.â
You wanted to ask how. You wanted to ask why. What came out was a stupid joke about how his hair probably counted as a separate obstacle. âHow, by looking in the mirror and not finding your face under all that hair?â
His laugh wasnât loud, it certainly was not the cafeteria laugh you'd have known, not the old one that announced him from across the room. It was small and startled and breathless, given to you without polish. It didn't help you when he leaned back against the seat, smiling at the roof of the car, and your pulse betrayed you completely.
What happened next made you feel less like you were playing him and more like he was playing you. When he reached over to tuck a loose piece of hair behind your ear, he did it slowly enough that you could have stopped him.
You didn't. You didn't stop him.
You told yourself it was because you were playing an act.
His knuckles brushed your cheekbone, working in breaking you out of your mind. Steveâs hand lingered there, his thumb moving once over your skin, it barely had any pressure. He watched the place he touched instead of your eyes, and the careful uncertainty of it burned through you harder than confidence would have.
For one long second, you wanted him to kiss you so badly that you forgot why you were there.
Then a car passed on the road behind you, headlights cutting through the windows, and both of you shifted apart.
Steve cleared his throat, his head turning to look out the driver's side. He seemed to have looked aware of just how vulnerable the moment was, and didn't know how to navigate it. âSo. Did I help?â
You looked down at his jacket wrapped around you. It made feel warm in ways you almost wished it didn't.Â
âYes,â your voice came out all wrong, small and breathless. âYou did.â
You wrote three pages that night and hated all of them. It was as frustrating as it was complicated. The problem was not that Steve failed your test. You found that out quickly.Â
The true problem was that he kept passing in the wrong direction.
â
In public, you performed coldness with the sharp dread of a person setting a match to her own sleeve. Or at least, you truly hoped it looked like that.Â
Monday morning, Steve found you near your locker with a bright, almost boyish smile that made you glance away before it could hit directly.
âHey,â he leaned besides you near the locker. âI was thinking maybe after school we couldââ
You shut your locker too hard.
âCan we not do this right now?â
His hand, halfway extended toward yours, stopped in the air. He dropped it quickly, trying to make the movement look natural.
âDo what?â his voice had you wanting to falter. God, since when were you this weak?
âThis.â You gestured between you, impatient and vague. âThe whole thing.â
People moved around you in the hallway, a current of denim jackets and textbooks and perfume. Someone bumped your shoulder. Before you could stumble, Steve stepped closer, placing himself between you and the rush of bodies. It was an unconscious movement. Protective without announcement.
Your stomach turned. You bowed your head to ignore looking into his enrapturing eyes. A warmth came instinctive in your stomach standing in such close proximity with the boy in front of you. You tried to push it down. Â
Keyword, tried.
His voice dropped, his head leaning down to yours in an attempt to meet your gaze. âHey. What did I do?â
His voice had you feeling weak already. âNothing.â
âOkay, well, Iâm getting a pretty strong not-nothing feeling here.â
You looked past him toward Stacey at the end of the hall. She watched with wide eyes, silently mouthing something that might have been commitment or abort. Her hands moved in front of her in a weaving gesture. You weren't sure what she'd been trying to convey, so you only assume she wanted to to keep going.
You crossed your arms, forcing your tone to turn cold and far away. No words really landed cleanly in your head for inspiration, so you took the first ones that would stick. âMaybe you donât have to be so⌠much.â
Steve blinked.
His jaw tensed with movement, your eyes drew to the action by unfortunate reflex now. He glanced down, then back up, searching your face with a focus that made your skin feel too thin and your act feel too hesitant.Â
âIâll fix it,â the words came quietly. You were sure your expression was dumbfounded, sure you had been acting like this on purpose â but what did he gain from doing that? You were so rapidly expecting a textbook fit. Instead, you got patient murmurings. That was worse than any possible anger.
âI donât need you to fix it.â
âThen tell me what you need.â
His breath warmed your forehead. His hazel eyes showed no sign of any true hostility. They were worried and confused, and there was something heartbreakingly earnest in the way he tried to solve the version of the problem you had invented. You liked that. You liked that he seemed to act like that by instinct.
And so, because of that, you almost reached for him.
You willed yourself to iron quickly. Wetting your bottom lip, you finally looked up at him. eyes. The action had you remembering just why you were so hesitant to meet his gaze, having a look that could melt anything in them. Instead, you stepped around him and walked to class with your throat tight enough to hurt.
At lunch later, you made notes that took up new space in your writing notebook.
He responded to social rejection not with aggression but accommodation. Attempts repair. Shows confusion when expected script fails. Public status seems less motivating than personal connection.
You underlined personal connection so hard the paper tore.
Even detached on paper didn't feel right.
âÂ
The next test, as the girls had dubbed it, was supposed to be funny. You were sure it was meant to be, but it still held an underlying issue. It was Staceyâs idea, though you were the one foolish enough to do it.
The party was at some fellow seniorâs house on Maple Street, loud enough to rattle the windows from the street. Steve picked you up with his hair arranged into what could only be called architecture. He seemed nervous about the party in a way he tried to bury under commentary about the radio, the road, and the fact that you were late even though you had been ready for ten minutes and had simply stood in your room wondering when exactly you had become the villain in your own story.
It was a rough start to say the least.
When you got there, he came around to open your door.
You stood and tried not to let the deep inhale of breathe be heard. The last thing you needed was to look as nervous as you felt. And quickly after that, you took one look at his carefully styled hair, and before you could lose courage, reached up and ran both hands through it. A smile found its way on your face, practiced and teasing, mirroring the girl in the catalogue of your People magazine.
The brush through his hair wasn't gentle, although his hair certainly was. Seriously, you had to ask later on what his secret was.Â
The structure of its volume collapsed instantly, and Steve froze. His head still remained in its bowed position from where he leaned down from the passenger seat door of his car. His brows twitched together as your hands ran along his temple. You froze too, fingers still threaded into his hair.
For one second, you waited for the familiar snap. For the old King Steve to step forward with wounded pride and a cruel mouth. The porch light hummed above you. Inside, someone shrieked with laughter. His friends, or former friends, or whatever they were now, could see you from the living room window.
Steve looked at his reflection in the dark glass of the car. He let out a small sigh, and the familiar heart fluttering charming grin appeared on his face. Steve's eyes shut for a moment but his expression didn't falter, even as a series of laughter escaped him. The sound felt warm to you, and your body responded in turn.
âBetter?â Steve then fluttered his pretty eyes back open, his head tilting with curiosity. âIt was exhausting keeping that up anyway.â
Your hands fell quickly, your finger tips missing the way his hair felt against your skin instantly. The joke died so completely that you could almost hear it hit the pavement.
He glanced at you, the ruined hair falling soft around his face only enhancing him. âDoes it look terrible?â
âNo,â you denied, and it came out too quickly. You winced at that, a small noise escaped Steve.Â
His mouth twitched. âThat was very convincing.â
âI mean it.â you did.Â
He looked younger again. Not smaller, exactly. Just less fully arranged. Another strand fell over his forehead, and you had the sudden, awful urge to smooth it back with care instead of strategy.
The party behind you roared alive, and Steve heard. His shoulders tightened, but he didn't turn toward them like you thought. He looked at you instead, waiting for your reaction, which somehow made you responsible for the whole fragile moment.
You reached up and fixed one piece of hair near his temple. Something in you liked doing that.Â
âThere,â your voice was stronger now, and your smile had turned real moments ago. âBetter.â
The smile he gave you was crooked and private. It really was nothing in comparison to the rest of the party, but it lingered. You spent the next few hours trying to get him to smile like that again.
You didn't take notes that night, or any of the other future nights.
You just remembered things instead.
You remembered the blue flicker of a movie screen across his face two nights later, when he sat beside you in the theater and kept his arm over your shoulders for the first half hour because that was what Steve Harrington knew how to do. Smooth. Easy. Practiced. Then, sometime after the second reel started rolling, his fingers stopped drumming against your sleeve and settled there with a hesitant weight, not claiming, only asking.
You remembered the way he drove with one hand when he was showing off, then switched to both hands when he told you about the time he forgot about his gym clothes and his coach made him wear an extra one two sizes too small. You remembered that he kept cherry chapstick in his glove box beside a flashlight, two old cassette tapes, and a receipt from a gas station outside Indianapolis. You remembered him stealing fries from your plate at the nearby diner and pretending to be wounded when you kicked his shin under the booth.
And in the next important memory, you remembered rain.
It came hard one random Thursday night, turning Hawkins into a blur of headlights and slick black roads. Steveâs house was empty in the way large houses could be empty even before you stepped inside. It was too clean, and far too quiet. The kind of place where expensive furniture sat untouched, waiting for adults who came home late and left early.
You ended up in his bedroom because the living room felt too much like a showroom for you.
His room was warmer than you expected, messier in an unapologetically human way. A baseball glove rested comfortably on the nearby dresser. Records stacked crookedly near the stereo. A half-open drawer with socks spilling out. Hair products lined along the bathroom counter with an intensity that might have been funny if it did not now seem faintly sad. Still, you had gotten a few quips out in hopes of cracking a smile from him.
The storm rattled the windows deeper into that even when conversations died down. You sat on the floor with your backs against the thick wooden frame of his bed, sharing a blanket that smelled faintly of detergent and his cologne. It was a familiar scent to your mind now. His knee pressed against yours beneath the fabric.Â
Neither of you moved away.Â
âI used to think this place was cool,â Steve had mentioned offhandedly after a moment, looking around the space of his room.
You didn't quite follow why his tone seemed far away, to you, his words were still holding up. âIt is cool.â
âItâs big.â
Your head turned to face him, a hum on your lips. âThatâs usually part of cool.â
He shook his head, the slight shake of his hair reminded you of how you missed touching it. You shook your head and focused once more when he spoke again. âNo, I mean⌠itâs just big.â
You understood what he meant.
Near his large bedroom window, thunder rolled low over the town. The room flashed pale for a second, then settled back into the lamplight.
You rested your cheek against the edge of the mattress, warm eyes pouring into yours as he mimicked your actions. âAre your parents gone a lot?â
âYeah.â Steve then picked at a loose thread in the blanket. His next words came out short and detached, so unlike the guy you've known. âDad travels. Mom goes with him when sheâs tired of pretending she likes Hawkins.â
You didn't like how his eyes dimmed. âAnd you?â
âI stay.â
The word sat between you.
He laughed once, it was without humor, and rubbed at his eye with the heel of his hand. His voice held that rasped edge that sent tingles down your spine. âGod, that sounded pathetic.â
âIt didnât.â The reassurance came so quick it shocked you. You attempted to play it cool, repeating the words slower.Â
âIt did.â He looked down at his hands, the same ones you found yourself wanting to hold without the premise of a lie. âI just⌠I donât know what happens when this is over. School. All of it. Everybody keeps acting like weâre supposed to know.â You didn't know what to say, it was the first time you've seen him so visibly wrecked. âCollege, jobs, whatever. And Iâm sitting there thinkingâwhat if this was it? What if being King Steve was the only thing I was ever good at, and I wasnât even good enough to keep it?â
Your chest tightened, it seemed like the world was laughing at you. Her he was, sitting on his bedroom floor besides talking about his insecurities all while you were actively trying to back on them.Â
The article was in your bag downstairs. A draft. A title. A guillotine made of clever sentences.
âSteve,â the name came of gentle from your lips.Â
He would not look at you, he kept staring at a spot on the floor.Â
âNancy figured it out before I did,â he went on, his voice lower now. His shoulders carried his tension clear as day. âThat all the stuff people liked about me was just⌠noise. Parties, basketball, the car, the hair. The Harrington house. I thought that meant something. Then it didnât, and it wasââ
He stopped and didn't continue any further. You knew the signs before it came, and the room quieted down.Â
His throat moved, a small, forcefully restrained noise finding its way out. The rain that thudded against his window filled the silence for him. And for you.Â
You reached for his hand quickly.
He looked at your fingers covering his, then turned his palm upward and held on. You opened your mouth to speak, but not much came out. His grip was still foreign to you, but it was different right now. It wasn't smooth, and it didn't feel like it held any kind of plan. His grip tightened once, almost too much to be soft, but then he quickly loosened it.
You shifted closer.
That was all it took.
He pulled you into his lap with a suddenness that stole your breath, then seemed to realize what he had done a second after doing it. His hands hovered at your waist.
âSorry,â he whispered.
You settled there instead of moving away. Your own eyes were blown wide and mirroring his. You tried to speak but it came out all airy. âItâs okay.â
His breathing changed when yours did. Steve's eyes seemed to track your face, and the air seemed to turn into something deeper.Â
For a moment, neither of you spoke up again. He lowered his forehead to your shoulder,then to the curve of your neck, his breath warm against your skin. The response that you gave was instantaneous, a rapid rising and falling of your chest went through the warmth of your body. His hands gripped your waist through the blanket, not possessive necessarily, you thought it felt more like clinging. Tethering. The storm made the windows tremble. His hair brushed your jaw.
You lifted a hand and threaded your fingers into the back of his hair. The return of the welcome feeling was pleasant in your grasp.
He went still under your touch, and for a moment. Then he exhaled, deep and unsteady, and held you closer. Your faces were breaths away now, the bridge of his nose softly touched yours.
âHey,â your voice came out weak. It was too soft to be teasing like you'd hoped.Â
Steveâs eyes softened instantly. You saw it happen. You saw the moment the small, genuine grin stretched across his face. His voice came back whispered, as if scared to break the moment. âHi there.â
When he finally pulled back, his eyes searched your face with an openness that made lying feel entirely impossible. You knew he was about to kiss you. You knew that you really should stop him. You knew the truth should come out before his mouth touches yours, before this became another thing you had stolen under false pretenses.
But you'd been stupid, and so you didn't stop him.
The kiss began softly, almost carefully. His lips were brushing yours once before returning with more certainty. He tasted faintly sweet from the chapstick he pretended not to use. The kiss felt like it was bewitching your body whole. His hand rose to your hair, fingers sinking in with a restraint that kept breaking and returning. You gave a slight laugh against his lips before calming down. You felt him trying not to rush, trying not to take more than you gave, and the effort undid you more thoroughly than any practiced confidence could have. Because it was just so him.
You kissed him back.
Not for the article. Not for the headline. Not because Stacey would demand details or because Mr. Walsh would have to admit you knew how to find a story
You wanted to, you truly wanted to..
You kissed him because his hand was warm against your back and his breath caught when you touched his face. Because the room smelled of rain and leather and laundry soap. Because his mouth moved against yours with need and care tangled together, and your whole body answered before your conscience could organize a defense.
When you pulled away, his forehead rested against yours. The faint flush from his skin felt nice against yours
He smiled, small and dazed. You added that of the list of expressions you liked to see on him.
âDoes this mean Iâm helping with your boy problem?â
A laugh broke out of you, shaky and real. You pressed your face into his shoulder to hide it. With a lightness in you chest you lifted your head up as you rolled your eyes. Your hand moved on its own account now. It slid up to grasp the side of his face, your fingers sliding against the shape of his jaw.
âShut up, Steve.â
His arms tightened around you, and his lips found yours once again. His own lightness expressed through the laughter that filled the echoing bedroom. "Ouch, you wound me."
For a few minutes, the world narrowed to the storm, his heartbeat beneath your palm, and the terrible knowledge that you had done something you could not write your way out of.
â
The article sat unfinished for two days.
You told yourself you would kill it. You also told yourself that you had time. Then you told yourself you would revise it.
So you sat in the newsroom after school, staring at the draft title until the faniliar letters turned cruel.
The Lifecycle of a High School God: why a crown crushes a king.
It sounded brilliant in the cafeteria. You distinctly remember thinking that. But now? Now it sounded mean.Â
No, mean was too light of a word. It felt cruel.
You pulled the pages from the typewriter, folded them once, and shoved them into your folder. You would tell Mr. Walsh you had changed direction. You would write something else. Anything else. A review of the cafeteria pizza. A profile on the marching band. A blank page with sorry written in the center.
The front page spot didn't seem so enticing anymore when the cost came so harsh.
You were reaching for your bag when Mark appeared in the doorway, looking over at you. You didn't bother to hide the deep exhale you gave, you whole body tensing on on instinct.
âWorking late?â
You stiffened and corrected him. âLeaving, actually.â
His eyes dropped to the folder in your hand. You immediately shut the folder, not liking the look in his gaze. âIs that the mystery column everyoneâs whispering about?â
âNo.â
âSo yes.â
You tucked it against your chest. You had truly no paitence for the boy. You had been feeling horrible all last night yesterday, well, even more so last night than usual. âMove, Mark.â
He held up both hands, smiling. You didn't like his smile. It was nothing like the comforting presence of Steve's. The thought only made your mood worsened. âRelax. I just wanted to see what was so important that Walsh was considering bumping my school spirit piece.â
âHe wasnât.â You wished you sounded as steady as you needed to, but the flicker in your voice betrayed you.
Mark noticed. Boys like Mark always noticed weakness when it benefited them. And Mark himself no doubt would revel in any chance of taking an empty shot at you.
âCome on,â he clicked his tongue in a way that made your blood boil from its condescension. âWeâre all on the same staff.â
âNo, weâre not.â You pushed past him quickly.Â
You did not know, however, that then one folded carbon copy had slipped from your folder and landed beneath the table, half-hidden by the trash can. You did not know Mark found it ten minutes later. You did not know he read it standing under the buzzing lights with his mouth slowly opening into the delighted shape of opportunity.
If you knew, you certainly wouldn't have lived through the reoccurring nightmare you've been having for the past few weeks.
You found out the next morning when Hawkins High came alive with your words.
Not the final version of your words, for it surely would've had a different result. It wasn't even the whole draft.
It was the worst version, the sharpest version.
The version written before you knew the way Steve looked when he gave away his jacket and pretended not to be cold.
Copies appeared on lockers before first period. Someone had run them fast and dirty, the ink uneven, the margins crooked. The title screamed from the top in bold type.
By second period, everyone had read it. By lunch, they were reading it aloud. You pushed through the hallway with your heart hammering so hard your vision pulsed at the edges.
A boy near the trophy case laughed. âListen to this partââ
You snatched the page from his hand and you were sure the rhythm of your heart could be heard from miles away.
There it was.
Your article.
Your voice, sharpened into a blade that you couldn't even begin to imagine dulling.
The Lifecycle of a High School God: why a crown crushes a king
Every high school builds a throne, though no one admits to carrying the wood to make it. We vote with our eyes, our invitations, and our laughter at jokes that are not funny enough to deserve it. We create a boy and call him a king because it is easier than admitting we are the kingdom that is faulty.
The high school god is rarely born exceptional. He is assembled meticulously. A good car. A good face. The right jacket. The right table. Enough people saying his name in the right tone until even he begins to believe there is something sacred in being wanted. These continue to enforce how sincerity rarely makes the cut.
But worship is not love. Anyone will tell you that, and those who disagree would be dumb enough to face the consequences. Popularity feeds on performance, and performance rots whatever is underneath the layer given. A boy taught to survive by being admired will eventually mistake attention for affection, control for confidence, and loneliness for proof that everyone else has failed him
When a crown falls, what remains is often not a villain, but something more ordinary and more frightening: a boy with no language for himself beyond what other people once applauded and now isolate.
Hawkins High should ask why we keep making kings out of boys who do not know how to be human â and why we act surprised when the weight of a crown crushes them to dust.
You had written every word. It would have been easier to say that Mark embellished over your words, and exaggerated for journalist effect. But he didn't, you were the one to do that. It was the worst part of the draft he could have chosen, simply because of the fact that you had left out everything you saw after.
You had also left out every human thing that would have saved him.
You found Steve in the print room a few hours later. And before you could assume any sort of hope of a clean explanation, it was shot and dead in front of you. You almost wished he hadn't gone there.
But of course he would have gone there, and of course the place where your betrayal had been made public still smelled of ink and metal and hot paper. It was proof of the now posted article that you didn't even want out. Faintly, you could hear something loud with the clacking press that someone had forgotten to turn off. Steve stood near the long table, one of the copies in his hand, the page trembling slightly between his fingers.
He looked up when you entered and you almost wished he hadn't.Â
His eyes were red.
Not crying, not exactly. Worse. It made your heart drop and panic spike up into you. It seemed he intended to hold back so hard that the effort had hollowed out his face.
âSteveââ you didn't recognize your voice. It was so desperate and and pleading. You opened your mouth and tried to stammer out any explanation that came into your head, but there was nothing you found coming to mind.Â
âSteve, please! Just listen, Iââ He interrupted you and laughed, but it shook you. It wasn't like the laughter you had come to live, this one had no warmth in it. It was so unlike him and you hated it. You hated causing that.Â
âWas any of it real?â
You stopped short, any explanation does quickly in the tip of your tongue.Â
He held up the article for you to see. As if you needed to be reminded of what you'd have done, a small breath part of you mouthed off bitterly.Â
âWhen you looked at me like that. When you stayed with me. When youââ His voice caught, and he looked away, jaw tight. You immediately took to shaking your head, the implication of his words just. Because they were true. And because they weren't. âWas that just material for your front page?â
âNo!â
âNo?â
âIt startedââ You hated yourself before the words finished forming. âIt started as an article, butââ
His face changed and your heart seemed perpetually lodged into your ribcage. There were some truths that did not deserve the dignity of a full explanation. Steve just exhaled out sharply, his head finally facing you. The reaction wasn't what you wanted, you wantedâno, needed to explain yourself.
He nodded slowly, eyes dropping to the floor. Steve didn't give the you the chance to continue. âRight.â
âSteve, I was going to stop it. I didn't even turn it in! I swear, I wasn't going to hand it over. Mark found an old draft, and heââ
âDonât.â He looked at you then, and the quiet in his voice hurt more than shouting would have. The word held so much that you froze on instinct. Your eyes stung viciously as you opened your mouth but nothing came out. âDonât make this about him.â
Your mouth closed then. You felt utterly helpless, which might have been deserved. You desperately wanted to tell him everything, wanting him to understand that it was real â is real. But your eyes, wide and frantic, just froze. He stepped closer, the paper crumpling in his fist.
âEveryone else wanted to see me for my status,â Steve began with a sharp inhale. You felt the stinging turn more prominent in your eyes, you tried to take a step forward but that was rejected when he almost flinched back two steps himself.. âThe car, the parties, the game. Whatever. I got that. I was stupid, but I got it.â His breath shook. Steveâs voice cracked nearing the end, and that was the last thing you heard before your vision blurred into spots. âI thought you were the only one who didnât care about it.â
âI did! No, I meanâI do, you have to believe me, Steve.â Your voice was surely pathetically small. Everything else seemed to turn into static silence in the empty printing room and you desperately needed to fix it. You wanted to, but you felt so utterly unsure of your next steps. You reached for him on instinct.
Steve flinched back.
The movement was small. Instinctive. As if his body no longer registered you as a comfort, and that split something open in you. You felt the first few tears fall from your lashes, each blink dropping tiny little pearls. Steve made a noise you couldn't properly translate, his eyes were on yours but they held a thousand words and emotions in a single look. His own hand twitched open and shut before being brought up to bury itself in his hair, Steve then forced his eyes shut and his head turned to the side. He couldn't decide what hurt more, being hurt by you, or seeing you hurt.
He was the one that came back sharp and strained.
âTurns out,â Steveâs voice was so rough, it could have been unrecognizable. You opened your mouth immediately to shut down whatever he would say, but he beat you to it. âyou just used me for a headline.â
The press clattered behind him. A sheet slid loose and fluttered to the floor.
âIâm sorry,â you whispered, your voice cracking and stinging from feeling utterly defeated. Because he was right, you did. You did get to know him for a chance at a headline, so that was why you could only apologize. But you wanted nothing to do with that stupid article, and regret washed over you at the thought of him thinking none of it was real. Because yes, it was messy, but it was real for you. âButâfuck, Steve... please you have to understand thatââ you were cut off before you could even continue.Â
He stared at you for a long moment, and you could see the part of him that wanted to believe you fighting with the part that had learned too many times what wanting cost.
Then he turned and walked out.
The room didn't become empty when he left, there was no relief that came with him leaving. And the room didn't become calmer in his disappearance; instead, it filled with him.
The absence of his cologne. The missing warmth of his jacket. The ghost of his hand at your cheek, careful and uncertain, before you had earned any of it. All of the little things that were so present just a moment ago were gone and let the physical trail of what happened.
You were left alone with the faint clacking of the room's machinery. And for a moment, you were so ready to run out to try and plead. To explain, to tell him every complete thing he was missing in hopes of him understanding. But you couldn't do that, not when you were already reason enough that he was hurting all over again.
With a loud curse, you found yourself feeling completely lost in a room that you've only ever compared with a haven.Â
âÂ
For two days, Steve Harrington became visible to you in a way he had never been as king.
You saw him at his locker the next Friday morning, hollow-eyed and quiet, pretending not to hear the whispers. You saw him in the cafeteria, sitting with a younger boy you didn't know for exactly six minutes before the younger boy said something animated enough to make Steve almost smile. Then Steve caught sight of you across the room and the almost vanished.
That hurt like a stab to the heart.Â
Then came the other little things that made you feel significantly worse. He stopped coming to the parking lot after school until the buses had left. He stopped looking down your hallway. He stopped being available to your guilt.
You tried to corner Mark. He denied leaking it with the loose, oily confidence of someone who knew proof mattered more than truth. Mr. Walsh gave a speech to the staff about journalistic ethics while refusing to meet your eyes. Stacey apologized three times, then stopped because the apologies had nowhere to land when she held you while your sobs filled your bedroom. Leah sat beside you at lunch without talking much. That was the kindest thing anyone did.
By Friday afternoon, the newsroom felt smaller than it ever had for you. More suffocating.Â
The printing press sat under the window, still and waiting. Dust turned in the late sun. Your original ambition lay around you in stacks of paper and headline sketches and discarded layouts.
You looked at the front page proof with Markâs article on school spirit and felt nothing.
Not disappointment. Not anger.
Nothing.
That truly scared you more than pain did.
You had thought giving up the article would be enough. You had thought killing the story would count as a moral act. But the story was already alive, crawling through Hawkins High with your fingerprints around its throat. You didn't know what to do, the words were already there for everyone that listened.Â
You sat at the typewriter.
For a long moment, you did not move. Shortly after a fit of tense silence, you finally rolled in a clean sheet. The keys struck hard enough to ache in your fingers.
This time, you did not write anonymously because you were clever. Or because you were trying to be witty or cruel. You wrote anonymously because the confession was not meant to redeem your name. It was meant to give him back his.
By the final bell, the flyer was everywhere, curtesy of your desperate and frantic efforts.Â
It wasn't approved, it certainly also wasn't polished. Id didn't become formatted with Mr. Walshâs careful little rules. It was just a single page copied until the machine jammed twice and your hands were black with ink that you couldn't scrub off
Students grabbed them from the tables, from the lockers, from the floor where they skidded under shoes. After all, no one loved potential hidden stories more than Hawkins High
You didn't wait to watch them read. That had been the least of your priorities. There was more important things that you cared about than who read a piece of your work now, and he had been gone from your sight long enough.
So, you ran.
The hallways exploded around you with the annual end-of-week chaos of Hawkins High School. Lockers slammed open, someone yelled about a shared ride, and a freshman dropped an entire stack of books and cursed with such feeling that a teacher shouted his name from twenty feet away. The sun poured through the front doors in a white-gold sheet, way too bright after the fluorescent dimness of the hall.
Steve was not at his locker. He was not outside the gym. He wasn't by the trophy case or the pay phones or even the side entrance near the band room. Your lungs burned by the time you shoved through the heavy double doors and stumbled into the afternoon.
The parking lot sprawled ahead of you, shining under the cold sun. Cars backed out in crooked lines. Girls shouted through open windows. The air smelled of gasoline, damp leaves, and somebodyâs cigarette. It was all nothing that you cared about. The one thing you did seemed to be missing from the scene. Your eyes squinted in the light as it traveled across the parking spaces of the lot, failing to find what your heart desperately wanted to see.
At the far end, the BMWâs engine roared to life.
âNo,â you breathed with pure adrenaline rushing through your veins. Steve sat behind the wheel, one hand on the gearshift, his profile hard through the windshield.Â
Before you even knew it, you started running.Â
It was stupid, rushed, and entirely filled with desperation. Your shoes slapped the asphalt. You heard Leah faintly calling your name, but you didn't turn back. The wind tore at your hair. Your bag bounced painfully against your hip but you paid it no mind. You cut between two parked cars and nearly slipped on loose gravel.
âSteve!â
He did not hear you, or pretended not to. You gave a groan of loud annoyance, but it still did little to deter you.
You reached the car just as the reverse lights flashed.
Without thinking, without dignity, and definitely without any plan beyond the awful certainty that if he drove away now something inside you would never forgive you, you threw yourself in front of the driverâs side door.
The car jerked to a stop and Steve froze behind the wheel.
Through the glass, his beautifully bright eyes widened. Hurt, shock, and stubborn pride moved across his face so quickly you could barely separate them. Then his mouth tightened. You could tell he wasn't expecting your actions, and you couldn't exactly say you were the most sane person now.
The window rolled down slowly, the crank turning under his hand with mechanical, agonizing patience.
âWhat are you doing?â his words came loud and filled with unresolved frustration. Steveâs voice was rough. Thick in its tension. He wouldn't look straight at you. You refused to settle for that, the days spent with the familiar feeling practically left you numb and empty.Â
âGo back inside,â Steveâs eyes and words seemed to contradict each other. He shifted back into looking into his dashboard instead of you. âGo celebrate your front page.â
You shoved the crumpled paper through the open window. It landed in his lap.
âI donât care about the stupid article, â you said, breathless enough that the words broke apart. âI donât care about the front page. Justâread it. Please.â
His jaw flexed. For a second, you thought he would throw it back at you. Then Steve looked down at the copy of printed words.
You watched his eyes move over the page.
Correcting mistakes:
There was an article circulating this week about a king. It was clever in the cruel way people mistake for intelligence when they are too afraid to admit they have been wrong.
The girl who wrote it thought she was exposing a system. She thought it clever and brilliant. She told herself the boy at the center of it was an idea, a symbol, a lesson with good hair. She thought distance made her fair and judicial. She thought observation made her honest.
Then the boy gave her his jacket when she was cold.
Then he admitted he was afraid of being forgotten, and the girl realized she had been so busy studying the crown of his that she had ignored the weight of it on his own head.
The first article was right about one thing: Hawkins High School makes kings out of boys and then punishes them for not knowing how to be anything else. That wasn't the mistake here. But it was wrong to confuse a boyâs damage with his character. It was wrong to turn trust into evidence. And it was wrong to take the softest things he offered and sharpen them for public consumption.
This is not an apology meant to earn forgiveness. This is meant, instead to fix the record.
The boy was never a god.Â
He was kinder than any story allowed him to be, and he was kinder than she deserved.Â
Steve stared at the paper.
His chest rose and fell under his yellow polo. His rings glinted where his fingers gripped the page. Around you, students slowed. A few openly stared. You could feel the parking lot turning toward you with the appetite of a place that loved spectacle.
For once, you really, truly, couldn't care. Â
Steveâs eyes lifted to yours, and you could weep just from that alone. âWhy should I believe you?â he asked.
The question was quiet enough that no one else could hear. You stepped closer, hands gripping the edge of the open window. Your own voice want any better, it was loud and messy, and undeniably real. A breathless bount of laughter escaped you âBecause I was playing a game and I lost, Steve.â
âI lost.â
His throat moved but you hadn't seen it.
âAnd I lost you,â you sighed with your head hanging low in shame near the open window, voice shaking now, âand I regret it. I was supposed to push you away, but every time you held my hand, every time you looked at me like I actually mattered, Iââ
Your breath caught, and you forced it down in order to continue.
âI donât care about King Steve. I donât care about the crown or the table or the stupid front page. I want the guy who gets cold in his own car because he gave me his jacket. I want the guy who pretends he doesnât use cherry chapstick. I want the guy who worries too much and fixes his hair when heâs nervous and acts tough until somebody he cares about needs him to be gentle.â
The words were embarrassing in their vulnerability, and it didn't help that Steve just stared at you. But even small battle wins were tremendous to those who were cautious. The defensive hardness in his face trembled.
You leaned closer, not touching him. Though God knew you wanted too. But you wouldn't take what he had not offered.
âI just want you,â you said and the words hung there in the bright afternoon.
For a second, nothing happened. That scared you. Because if even though all of this, he didn't believe you, you were sure that would break you entirely. You didn't understand how looking at him now, with his beautifully enrupturing genuine gaze and constellations of freckles so faint kissing his skin with blessings, you could have been so stupid.
Your panicking monologue was cut off when Steve let out a breath that broke halfway into a laugh.
It made you falter momentarily. You wouldn't exactly describe it as fully happy or clean. Instead, it was more ragged. Disbelieving. Full of relief that came so sudden it seemed to knock the strength out of him. He looked down at the crumpled printed again, then back at you. You saw the exact moment when whatever he had been holding together for two days came apart in his hands.
âYouâre insane,â Steve held his head in his hands. The heels of his palms dragged to his eyes, and that when you noticed the concealed redness there. Your panic was a quick guest arrival as your hand hesitantly went over the threshold of the open window and found its spot tangling through his hair at his temple.
Your voice came out soft. âI know.â
âYou ran in front of my car.â Steve's was returned in a disbelieving laugh. The sound on instinct made you smile.
âI know.â
âI couldâve hit you.â
You weren't quite so sure you believed that. And it seemed like neither did he fully either. The both of you stared through the air between you âYou're not exactly driving donuts with your Beamer in a school parking lot, Harrington. You were going four miles an hour, max.â
His mouth twitched and your heart found its comfort. There he was. That was the boy you wanted to see, the one who was sincere and silly and all of the words in between.
The moment didn't truly feel fixed all the way, and it didn't feel so easily forgiven so neatly that the hurt could be vanished beneath a kiss. But there, beneath the bruised pride and the red eyes and the stubborn set of his jaw, was the boy from the park. The boy from the rainstorm. The boy who had laughed quietly when nobody asked him to perform.
He shoved the car door open.
You barely had time to step back before he was out, hands catching your waist. Steve lifted you clean off the pavement, and a startled sound escaped you as your hands grabbed his shoulders.
âSteveââ
âShut up,â he rasped, but his voice broke around the smile. Then kiss that came next didn't surprise you. But it certainly didn't prepare you for it either.
It was not exactly graceful, but it was completely and utterly impassioned.
Someone in the parking lot whooped. Someone else yelled something that sounded suspiciously like âHarrington!â A horn blared because a car was stuck behind his open door. The reminder of just how crazy this whole situation was roared in your ears.Â
Steve didn't seem to hear any of it. You had a feeling that he did, but just pretended he didn't. That made you smile on reflex against him.
His hands held your waist with desperate certainty, then slid up your back, pulling you close enough that the cold afternoon disappeared between you. Your fingers tangled in his hair, ruining it again, and he made a sound against your mouth that was half laugh, half relief. He tasted the same sweet cherry chapstick you started buying for yourself and breathless warmth. The kiss carried every unsaid thing neither of you knew how to organize yet. Anger. Want. Hurt. Forgiveness beginning somewhere far off and walking slowly toward you.
When your feet touched the ground again, you were dizzy. It was a good dizzy, and the pounding in your side was a welcome pleasure now.Â
Steve rested his forehead against yours, breathing hard. His hands stayed anchored at your hips, refusing to let you drift away. Up close, you could see the faint details scattered along his neck, the tiredness under his eyes, and the careful hope he was trying not to show too quickly.
âYou really printed that?â The question broke you out of your stupor. You were still so dazed from his touch that you distantly found yourself nodding. Your hands refused to leave their spot in reaching for him now that there wasn't a lie justifying it.
âOver Markâs stupid school spirit thing?â
Your words came mechanical, as if offended he'd even question it. âTechnically under it. Around it. On top of some of it.â
âI made a stupid amount of copies.â The confession came paired with you momentarily dropping your hands where they were wrapped around him to hold up the black ink stains on your fingers.
His smile spread, crooked and real enough to hurt. And you swore that it was the most beautiful sight in the world.
âGood.â
You laughed weakly, your hands finding their way back into sliding to the back of his nape. âThatâs what you took from the public confession?â
âIâm processing.â His thumb moved along your jaw, slow and familiar. âAlso, I liked the cherry chapstick line.â
âI hoped you would,â you felt like a cat relishing in caresses. The smile that mirrored his came quick and teasing on your mouth. His eyes stayed on yours, and his smile softened at the edges.
âYouâre a terrible writer.â
Your brows lifted in instinctive defensiveness of your craft. âExcuse me?â
He brushed his thumb beneath your chin, eyes bright with that old Harrington charm, gentler now, and clearly worn in rather than performed.
âYou didnât even come close to losing me.â
The ache in your chest loosened all at once.
It would not be so easy for you to say it was gone, you would still have to apologize without speeches. He would still have to decide what trust looked like after being turned into copy.Â
But Steve was standing in front of you with his hair wrecked by your hands and your confession folded against his car seat. He was looking at you, really looking, not the way a king looked over a crowd, but the way a boy looked at the girl he was still willing to let close enough to hurt him.
You rose onto your toes with a soft shake of your head and grin. âJust shut up and kiss me, Harrington.â
His grin flashed.
âYes, maâam.â
This time, when he kissed you, the whole parking lot blurred into sun and noise and the smell of gasoline warming on asphalt. His hands were still careful. Yours were not. You held onto him with ink-stained fingerspads and a heart that learned how to be true.
author's note: hey everyone! I literally haven't posted in years and have been really enjoying all of the Logan content on here so I thought I would write while I impatiently wait for Off Campus season 2! Hope you guys enjoy, part two is already in the works don't worry! If anyone wants to send in any Logan requests feel free!
word count: 3k
"I think I'm gonna throw up." You groaned as you finished slicking back your hair into the signature bun hairstyle you do for every game.
"Baby it's only the home opener nobody is expecting perfection. And after I promise we can watch any movie you want and I won't even complain if you put on one of those cheesy romcoms you love," Logan replied, coming up behind you to give you a hug as he rested his head on your shoulder.
"Yeah but why do we have to play Harvard for our home opener? I swear our coach hates us. I mean Coach Jensen would never have you all playing Harvard as your home opener." You continue to whine as you lean back into his hug.
"And that's why you should've played the superior version of hockey, like why do you all even play on grass when you could be skating?" he teased.
"John Logan I know you're not dissing on field hockey right now. Just because we don't slam each other into the glass every five seconds doesn't mean we're not as good as you guys, it just means we actually know how to regulate our emotions." You huffed out as you glared at him in the mirror.Â
"Oh come on princess, you know I just like to see you get all riled up. It's hot as fuck." He replied, spinning you around to pull you into a kiss.
You pulled back before he could get carried away. "I have to finish getting ready Logan, can you not keep it in your pants for a whole morning?" You giggled before adding another hair tie to secure your bun and walking to your room to get dressed in your uniform.
"Sorry for being obsessed with my stunning athlete girlfriend. Seriously, how did I get so lucky?" he said as he followed you like a puppy into your room.Â
"You're so clingy, you know that? But I do love you too Johnny." You gave him a quick peck on the cheek before pushing him towards the door of your apartment. "Now please leave so I'm not late to warm ups!"
"Fine I'll leave but only because I'm going to see you again after the game. You are going to crush it today baby!" he replied as he blew you a kiss from the doorway.
You smiled to yourself and continued to get ready for the game. While Logan was always so cool and collected before his hockey games you were always internally freaking out and he was there to calm you down. In the past year since youâve been dating he would sleep over the night before a game to make sure you actually slept and didn't overthink every little thing that could go wrong and then he would tease you all morning to help keep your worries at bay. It was your sophomore year and you were finally called up to be a starter. You had gotten decent playing time your freshmen year and was ecstatic when coach told you you would be the starting center midfielder. So a lot was riding on this game to say the least.Â
Warm ups went smooth as usual and you were feeling a lot better about the game after the locker room chat. Now it was game time and the nerves were starting to creep back. We lined up in front of our bench as the announcer started calling out the starting line up for each team. When your name and number was called your eyes darted in the direction of the cheering and locked eyes with Logan who was standing up and clapping alongside Garrett, Dean, Tucker, Hannah, and Allie. When you had started dating Logan you were already friends with Hannah and Allie from being in some of the same classes as them and the boys had welcomed you into the group with open arms. You were glad they came to the game to support you.
After the announcer finished calling each teamâs lineups we took the field and the first quarter started. Harvard scored with two minutes left in the first quarter after stealing the ball from one of Briarâs defenders leaving the team a little rattled. The second quarter started and things were getting rough out on the field. You kept getting frustrated at the shoving from Harvard not getting called. One of your teammates ended up getting a yellow card for pushing which left Briar feeling even more frustrated. With five minutes left in the second quarter you were dribbling down the field and dodged a defender while passing the 25 yard line. The defender you had dodged raced behind you and swiped her stick around your right knee. The scene unfolded in slow motion. As you tried to keep moving her stick stayed locked onto your knee and you heard a sickening pop as you crashed onto the ground. You let out a cry that silenced the stands. You immediately felt pain shooting up and down your right leg as you went to grab at your leg. One of your teammates immediately knelt down and cradled your head as you continued sobbing in pain.
âShh itâs ok, the trainer is coming.â She tried to comfort you. The trainer jogged over to you and started assessing your leg and asking you questions.
âWhere does it hurt? Did you feel a pop when it happened?â The trainer asked.
âFuck my knee!â you gritted out. âYes it popped, itâs my ACL isnât it.âÂ
âI canât say for sure right now but weâre calling an ambulance.â The trainer reassured, âIt sounds like an ACL tear but they have to do an MRI to confirm.â
You looked up at your teammate and sobbed knowing your season was over before it had even started. âI-fuck, can someone get Logan. Please.â Your voice wobbled between sobs of pain. All you wanted right now was for your boyfriend to hold your hand and tell you everything would be okay.Â
âWe canât let him on the field but Iâll let the paramedics know you want him with you.â The trainer replied regretfully. Your teammate continued to gently rub your head in an attempt to calm you down. You heard the ambulance approaching. It was all a blur of pain as they loaded you onto the stretcher and started wheeling you towards the ambulance.Â
Meanwhile Logan had been up on his feet as soon as he heard your bone chilling scream when you collapsed. He raced down the stairs of the bleachers and ran to the fence separating the bleachers from the field. One of the referees came over to him and told him he couldnât be on the field.
âThatâs my girlfriend out there.â Logan argued pacing along the fence.
âIâm sorry but itâs against the rules, no spectators on the field.â The referee answered stoically.Â
Logan heard the ambulance pull up before he saw it. He immediately rushed over to where they were wheeling the stretcher off the field towards the parking lot.Â
âSir Iâm going to need you to get out of the way.â One of the EMTs said to him.
âLogan.â You mumbled weakly from the stretcher. âThatâs my boyfriend, let him through.âÂ
âHey, hey.â he said calmly once he was next to you, âIâm right here baby, I got you.âÂ
His gentleness brought even more tears to your eyes and he held your hand as they loaded you into the ambulance.
The ride was brutal to say the least. Every bump in the road caused your leg to shift which brought a new wave of pain every time.Â
âJohnny, it really hurts.â you cried, both hands scrambling to grab his arm. You pulled his arm closer and leaned your head on his shoulder.
âI know, Iâm so sorry baby. Theyâre getting you to the hospital as fast as they can.â He leaned down to press a kiss to your temple.Â
âAs soon as we get you to the hospital weâll get you on some pain meds, but we have to keep you coherent enough to answer some questions once we get you admitted.â The EMT explained.Â
The ambulance finally pulled into the hospital and they unloaded the stretcher. Logan holding your hand every step of the way.Â
âTheyâre going to take you back now for your MRI Y/N. All visitors will have to wait in the waiting room.â The EMT said, then turning to Logan, âA nurse will come get you when she gets admitted into her room after the MRI.â
âOkay, thank you.â Logan replied before crouching down next to you and cupping your face, âItâs all going to be okay sweetheart. Iâm not going anywhere.â He wiped away the tear that escaped the corner of your eye and pressed a quick kiss to your cheek. âI love you.â
âLove you Logan.â You said as more tears ran down your face. You squeezed his hand and then you were then wheeled away from Logan and into the room for your MRI.
Logan sat in the waiting room trying his best to be patient. There was nothing worse than seeing his girl in pain. He wished he could trade places with you. He hated that he couldnât be with you right now.Â
The doors of the waiting room opened up and in walked Hannah, Allie, Garrett, Dean, and Tucker. They immediately sat down around Logan.
âWhat happened man?â Garrett asked.
âIs she okay?!â Allie exclaimed.
âThey took her back for an MRI. Itâs probably an ACL tear but they canât tell how bad yet. They said we can see her once they get her settled in a room.â Logan replied, voice wobbly.Â
âShit, sheâs going to be so upset. Poor Y/N.â Hannah said.Â
âThat Harvard girl that did this should be banned from field hockey.â Dean commented, âLike no way was that legal.âÂ
âI know she completely ruined Y/Nâs season.â Tucker said regretfully.Â
A nurse opened a door into the waiting room and announced your name saying you were settled in your room and could have visitors.
You were a little groggy from the pain medicine being pumped into you through your IV but perked up when you saw six familiar faces walking into your room. Allie and Hannah immediately rushed to either side of your bed and you pulled them into a hug as tears stung the corners of your eyes.Â
âY/N! Honey, how are you feeling?â Allie asked, pulling away from the hug.Â
âIâve been better.â You joked, trying to lighten the mood.Â
Everyone circled around your bed and Hannah moved to the side to let Logan come around and give you a hug. You melted into his arms as his hands rubbed your back and you buried your head in his neck breathing him in. His scent helping to ease your anxiety. He pulled back and gave you a peck on the lips.
âIâm glad youâre feeling good enough to joke, baby.â He said, giving you a gentle smile.
âLook I know sheâs hurt but can we please keep the PDA to a minimum people.â Dean teased.
âLogan, I give you full permission to punch him right now.â You said smiling back at Dean.
âOh Iâm not afraid of this guy, I could take him in my sleep.â Dean retorted.
âI wouldnât be too confident Dean, Logan was benching more than you last week.â Garrett said laughing.
âWoah, G, youâre supposed to be taking my side!â Dean exclaimed, âTucker back me up here, I could totally beat Logan in a fight.â
âI hate to say it Dean but Logan did beat you pretty bad when we had that fight night with the team.â Tucker argued.
âWait, is that why you came home with a black eye the other week??â Allie questioned Dean. âYou told me it was from practice.â
âTucker, fight night is supposed to be a top secret tradition!â Dean whined. âAnd Logan may or may not have gotten my eye but that doesnât automatically make him the winner!â
âAgree to disagree.â Logan replied, âI came out with a bruise to the ribs and that was it, you on the other handâŚâ
âI will not take this slander anymore!â Dean pouted.
âYeah I donât know if this arguing is helping Y/N rest.â Hannah chimed in.
âItâs okay guys, it makes me feel more at home.â You said, giving them a weak smile. âItâs getting late, why donât you all go home and get some rest. I can keep you all updated on what the doctor says.â
Everyone came to give you a hug and said their goodbyes while Logan hung back insisting to stay the night.Â
âIâm glad youâre staying with me.â You said looking into his big brown eyes as he settled down in the chair beside your bed.Â
âOf course, baby. I meant what I said before, Iâm not going anywhere. You need anything at all you tell me.âÂ
You reached out your arms to pull him into a hug and whispered into his neck, âIâm really scared Johnny.âÂ
He pulled back so he could look at you but you didnât meet his eyes. âHey look at me sweetheart.â You looked at him with tears filling your tired eyes. âYou are the strongest person I know and if anyone can get through this itâs you. I know this isnât what you wanted and I know recovery is going to be hard, but Iâm here to help you. You donât have to be strong around me, let me help you.â
His kind words only made you start to cry harder. âCan you come here?â You ask, voice barely above a whisper. To which he immediately climbed into the bed next to you and wrapped his arm around your shoulders, careful not to move your right leg. You rested your head on his chest and reached over to intertwine your fingers with his. He rubbed soothing circles with his thumb on your hand until you fell asleep.Â
You woke up to the sound of your heart monitor steadily beeping and reality came crashing back down. Logan felt you stirring and gave you a kiss on the forehead. âHowâs my girl doing? Did you sleep okay?â
âYeah I think the pain meds helped knock me out, I slept pretty good.â You replied, giving him a sleepy smile.
âGood baby, Iâm glad you got some rest.â
The doctor came in shortly after to update you on your knee. âFrom the MRI scan we saw that you tore your ACL and MCL. Weâre planning on going through with surgery this morning so we can send you home hopefully sometime this evening. Recovery is quite extensive, youâll have to be on crutches for about six weeks and wear a brace. Then youâll continue to wear the brace and start to walk and go to physical therapy for a few months before we can clear you for field hockey. Typical recovery time is 8-12 months.â
âOkay,â was all you were able to force out as you started to feel yourself go numb. What do you mean 8-12 months? How could this be happening? You were supposed to be enjoying your starting spot you had worked so hard for, not stuck barely being able to hobble around on crutches.
âTheyâre going to start prepping you for surgery if thatâs okay.â The doctor said, interrupting your thoughts.
You just nodded as the doctor left the room and stared blankly at the wall.
âHey, Y/N. What are you thinking right now baby?â Logan asked concerned.
âMy career is over Logan. Itâs all down the drain.â Your numbness had started to give way to the anger that had been simmering since the accident. âItâs all fucked. I wonât be able to play this season obviously and then I wonât even have time to get in shape for next season and then Iâm going to be so out of practice that they wonât even want me on the team for my senior year. So yeah itâs all fucked.â
Logan went to take your hands in his and tried to comfort you, âWe gotta have a positive outlook here. I know this isnât what you wanted but you are going to get past this, I promise.â
âEasy for you to say Logan! Youâre not the one sitting here in a shitty hospital bed about to be wheeled to surgery. You can still play hockey. Youâre going to be just fine going off to play in the NHL and Iâll just be at home rotting away in my stupid fucking knee brace. So no John I donât really want to have a positive attitude right now.âÂ
Your words cracked something in Loganâs chest. He understood you were hurt and he just wanted to comfort you. Before he had a chance to say anything a nurse came in and said they were ready to wheel you to surgery.Â
âY/N please, Iâm sorry. I was just trying to help.â Logan said motioning for the nurse to wait a second. âCan we please not fight right now, youâre about to go into surgery and I want us to be okay.â
You sighed and ran your fingers through your hair. You knew Logan truly wanted the best for you but you were really upset with your circumstances at the moment. âYeah youâre right Logan, Iâm sorry I snapped at you, but I still mean what I said. Itâs hard for you to understand what Iâm going through.â
Logan looked at you with tears in his eyes. He hadnât told you about his deal with his older brother Jeff about taking over the garage after college. You had no idea that he had been lying about being passed over in the draft and that he never actually entered the draft. He really did know what you were going through and he wished at this moment he had told you.Â
let me know if you all want more parts! hope you enjoyed <3
did you get your taste back? (a Taste Back by Harry Styles fic)
Three years after you last saw your on-again, off-again ex-boyfriend, you realise you still haven't grown out of your taste for him (ex!theo nott x reader)
Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3
a/n - I think this is the first fic where I genuinely have nothing to say LOL anyways kiss all the time and disco occasionally!!! <33
word count - 1.5k
tropes/warnings - estranged exes to lovers, mildly unhealthy r/ship, second chance
You nibbled at your chocolate sundae, your ears ringing with the tinny echo of the Latin pop music. You had long since lost interest in your boyfriendâs antics, such as starting a paltry Macarena chain at some random diner on a Thursday night. Of course, you were the only one who had seen it all before. Even your best friend, Ivy, was goggling at him from behind the counter, seconds away from dropping the glass in her slackening grip.
âWell, I never.â
You flinched, nearly upsetting your sundae. You knew who it is before you turned to look. Your eyes darted over to the counter, from which Ivy had mysteriously disappeared. Oh, that snitch.
âDo mine eyes deceive me?â
You reluctantly peered over your shoulder at your ex-boyfriend. You hadnât wanted him to know you were back in town, and you had liked your odds of not running into him this evening. But then again, it was a small town - there were only so many places to go to.
âHullo, Theodore.â
Theo slid into your booth, opposite you. His smile was as flippant as you remembered - the years had done nothing to mature it, or him, from the looks of it.
"Where did you go again? Portugal? Paraguay? Papua New Guinea?"
"Paris."
He screwed up his forehead. "Where's that, again?"
"Just south of go-fuck-yourself."
Theo placed a hand on his chest in mock indignation. You rolled your eyes. Please. As if you had forgotten how much filthier his mouth was, or could be.
"Oh, look at that. Three years on, and you still want to act like I don't got jokes. I'm touched, really."
You flashed him a sardonic smile. "Anything for you, baby."
Theo slid your sundae towards himself with a practiced ease.
âTwo sundaes? I donât remember you being this greedy."
He turned, craning his neck to survey the diner.
"So whereâs your newest boy toy?â
His eyes settled onto the dwindling macarena chain near the back entrance. He turned back to you with a knowing look. You scowled.
âIâm going to take a wild guess.â
âDonât.â
Theo grinned, keeping his mouth shut for once, but you felt embarrassed anyway. His eyes wandered over the table, the checkered floor, then you, as if searching for a change in subject. You could feel your face starting to burn under his gaze.
âI canât believe you didnât tell me you were back in town," he said, as if he had the uncanny ability to read your mind. Ugh, that you didn't miss.
You grimaced, pulling your sundae back towards yourself. Theo reached out towards what was left of the maraschino cherry that had been steadily wilting for the better part of the last hour. You slapped his hand away.
âQuit it. This oneâs mine.â
âBut you donât even like the cherries.â
âNeither do you.â
Theo shrugged. âFree food is free food.â
âBut this is my food.â
âLike I said, free food. Anyway, watch this.â
He plucked out the cherry anyway and dropped it into his mouth. For the next couple of minutes, you watched Theo's mouth work steadily, cautiously plying at the cherry. You watched, unimpressed. If nothing else, it was nice that it shut Theo up, even for just a short while.
"You're on your own if you start to choke. I still haven't learned the Heimlich."
Theo's eyes widened in a way that suggested he was playing up his surprise. Oh, you wanted to kick him for that.
Finally, he extracted the cherry stem, now expertly twisted into a knot. You gave him a bored look.
"Wonderful. The most useless skill I've ever witnessed. I've finally seen it all. I can die happy."
You went back to fiddling with your sundae. You were distantly aware that you were doing a poor job of disguising your horrid mood, but you didn't care enough to put any real heart into it, especially in front of Theo. Even when you were dating, you never bothered trying to hide your true feelings, not that it would have ever worked. The man could read you like a book.
Now, though...he probably didn't even realise anything was amiss.
Theo sucked at his teeth, breaking the awkward silence. The sundae that you had barely touched was now half empty. You looked up, and followed his gaze to where he was watching your boyfriend.
âHeâs very spirited, isnât he?" Theo murmured. "Look at those hips go.â
You rolled your eyes.
âSure,â you said, ignoring Theoâs barb. You swirled around what was left of your sundae in the bottom of your glass dejectedly. âHeâs got enough spirit for the whole bar. Everyone except me.â
Theo's eyes slid back to your face. Something in his eyes flickered, as if he was finally putting two and two together. Oh, you hated when he did that. Trust Theo to sour your one visit home within your first 24 hours back.
âC'mon," Theo said, his tone deliberately unsympathetic. You had always hated being pitied. "Chin up. We can make him jealous. Here,â Theo continued, covering your hand with his own. âFeed me some whipped cream.â
You had never held hands in public much when you were dating. You stared at where the joints of his fingers rested against your knuckles. It felt like a caricature of the time you spent together. Maybe that was what your relationship had needed - more hand-holding.
When you didn't respond, Theo wavered, closing his mouth uncertainly.
âIs he looking?â
âAre you?â
âLooking?â
âJealous.â
The corners of his mouth tightened.
âNo,â Theo said. He said it so easily, automatically. You should have known the answer just as automatically. He searched your face, his mouth pressed into a thin line, as if the question had made him uncomfortable. As if you had made him uncomfortable.
And who could blame him? He had probably long since moved on. You were the one harshing the vibe with your three-years-too-late thoughts that, really, were better kept to yourself.
You dragged a hand down your face. âI donât - Iâm sorry.â You fidgeted, tapping at the rings of condensation on the table. âForget I said anything.â
The embarrassment washed over you like a wave. Your face felt hot, too hot. What did you care about Theo being jealous? That was his problem, not yours. And you certainly didn't want him to be jealous, heaven forbid. That was the whole reason you had moved away in the first place.
You closed your eyes, your head in your hands. Were the diner lights always this bright? Blinding, really, the way they reflected off the tiles. Oh, and that god-awful jukebox - you were ready to take a bat to it if they didn't stop soon. Between the noise and the emotional rollercoaster, you were starting to get a bit of a headache.
"Could you - could you leave, actually?" you forced out, your voice unnaturally high-pitched. "I think Martin's finishing up, and we should really get back to our date."
Theo stared at you. For a second, it looked like he would refuse, that he was going to tell you off for trying to hide when things got tough. But then the moment passed, and he sat up straighter, glancing at his watch.
"Yeah. Sure. I need to get going, anyway."
Theo climbed out of the booth. Even with your eyes still fixed on the sticky table, you could feel him hover, as if he were not quite ready to leave yet.
âOi. Psst. Y/N.â
Grudgingly, you glanced up.
âYou owe me.â
You raised your eyebrows, appalled.
âYou all but devour my sundae, and Iâm the one who owes you? Merlin, you really haven't changed.â
âHey," Theo said, without any real outrage. "I didnât just do that. I also ate your yucky medicinal cherry. Have some gratitude.â
You spluttered indignantly. Theo gave you a lazy half-smile. As he turned to leave, he ruffled your hair, which you imagined was some half-baked attempt at a brotherly affection.
Only, it doesnât land right coming from Theo. All you can think about is the feeling of his fingers on your scalp, so gentle with their pressure, yet so persistent, as if the pads of his fingertips were aching to seek you out all these years later.
You were pulled out of your reverie as the diner's bell chimed. Theo stepped out and once again bled into some non-descript, unimportant detail in the void of your hometown.
You exhaled. Your thoughts wandered back to the conversation, to how Theo had subtly shifted towards you, as if his body were still attuned to your moods even if his mind no longer was. Perhaps it was something about the way you spoke that tipped him off on how lonely Paris was.
Maybe you just needed a little love. Or maybe you needed Theo.
What happens when you wake up in Hawkins summer of 1985, with no clue how you got there, or why thereâs a handsome boy in a sailors costume staring down at you? Between secret Russian bunkers, Starcourt mall, and inter-dimensional monsters, one question becomes increasingly difficult: do you take the chance to go home and leave everything behind, or stay with the boy who was never supposed to be part of your future?
Scout leader!Steve Harrington x Scout leader!fem!reader
SUMMARY: After you broke up with Steve, due to him distancing as he was apparently in a 'darker version of Hawkins', you signed yourself up to be a Scout leader. For your annual camp with the other Scout groups across the area, you never expected to see that Steve would be there too, working alongside you.
CONTENT: Ex's to lovers, scout leader!steve, scout leader!fem!reader, angst, mentions of upside down, reader being oblivious (makes sense), set after season 5, reader was aware of the upside down (but didn't believe steve at first), steve's not over reader, annoyed!reader, kinda mean!reader, fair bit of cursing, the obvious scouting activities, mention of steve's scars, smut towards the end (WAY more plot than smut), unprotected sex, sex in a cabin, praise, a LOT of kissing, happy ending (promise!!)
WORD COUNT: 11.7K
NIA'S NOTES: So incredibly proud of this honestly. Also, the spooky story was heavily inspired by a story that my grandad told me when I was little!! He was a scout leader and told the same story to his group. Had to add that in 𼚠Please lmk what you thought of this!! Please enjoy babies!!
After a pretty harsh breakup two years ago with your ex-boyfriend, Steve, that you had initiated, you took it upon yourself to sign up to become a scout leader. Youâd had years of experience being a scout, so you knew what to expect, and it was an easier way to take your mind away from the breakup and the awful shit that Steve used to come up with.
Your parents didnât agree with it when you first brought it up, they thought it was an unhealthy way to deal with a breakup. Not that you had told them thatâs why you wanted to sign up, but it had been 4 days since you ended the relationship, which was quick for you to be making decisions.
They told you that you should be talking to someone about how you feel or spending more time with family as you werenât seeing him anymore, but your immediate thought was to have an escape from everyone that knew you. It sounded easier than sitting down and awkwardly having to explain that Steve was disappearing due to him going into a âdarker version of Hawkins with alien-like creaturesâ which led you to breakup with him in the first place.
Youâd been curled up on the sofa in the living room with your parents on the sofa opposite you, and youâd been slowly trying to bring up that you wanted to sign up for an open space to become a scout leader without rushing into the conversation too quickly. You needed to make sure that they were in a good mood before you possibly ruined it or made it worse.
âMandy is waiting on me to tell her if Iâll be signing up for the scout leader position.â You finally managed out and shifted on the sofa, flashing them a small, awkward smile. âThereâs still space for me to join.â Â
Your mother sighed and folded the corner of the page in her book, placing it down on the arm of the chair. âYouâre putting yourself up to do something that you need to commit to. You canât pull out a few weeks in because itâs too tiring or itâs not what you were thinking it was going to be. I donât think this is a good way to get your mind off that boy either.â
âI want to do it, mom. I went to scouts for years and you know that I really enjoyed it. Itâs the same thing, but Iâll be leading activities instead.â You replied, glancing down at the floor. âAnd Iâm doing this because I want to, not for any other reason.â You mumbled.
She smiled at you, shaking her head. âI was young like you too once, you know.â
âAnd what? At least Iâm not going out to party and drink. I could be doing that instead if youâd like. I think you should be appreciating this more.â You huffed, stretching your legs out on the sofa.
âBe nice to your mother.â Your dad said sternly, glancing at you over his glasses that might as well have been completely off his nose.
You glanced at your dad, then back to your mother with a sigh. âIâm doing nothing else at the moment. I really want to.â
âWhat about being with family?â Your mother asked.
Your parents were always the type to want to have quality family time together. They were always the first to host Christmas meals at their house where everyone in your family would come over to eat and play board games. If you were to ever suggest eating dinner anywhere that wasnât the dining room with them, you were pretty sure that they would disown you.
âItâs not like Iâm going to disappear from this house, mom. Scout meetups are a few times a week for a few hours, and they go camping every few months. Iâll still be here.â You reassured her. âIâm twenty. Iâm not a kid anymore.â
âYet youâre still living under our roof.â Your dad shrugged, clearly only speaking when he has something snarky to say.
Your mother sat forward, resting her elbows on her knees and clasping her hands together. âIâm used to you being with us all the time. Youâre growing up.â Her voice wavers, and there was clearly more to it than wanting you to healthily manage your breakup.
For a second, your chest felt tight hearing the change in her voice, but you couldnât give in and hold back on something that had been on your mind for weeks. âMom...â You sighed, watching the sad look on her face. âI know that you donât want me to go anywhere, but I need to at some point, otherwise Iâll be stuck here bored out of my mind doing nothing with myself.â
She went silent for a few seconds, listening to your dad rustle the pages of his magazine, and you were bracing yourself for her to come up with another way for you to not go. âHow long is this for and are you sure that you would really like to do this? You canât stay in bed if youâre feeling lazy when youâre supposed to be out with the kids.â She asked.
âI can stay as a leader for as long as I want, I donât think thereâs a limit. Iâd at least like a few years. Iâd get some really nice experience. I donât know how else I can get you to agree with me. I really wanna sign up for this.â You nodded quickly, basically begging her at that point as your last resort. âPlease, mom.â
Her eyes darted to your dad who just shrugged, but it wasnât a no which was a good sign. She tilted her head to the side with a surprisingly gentle look on her face. âThis doesnât mean that youâre escaping our family time though.â
Your face lit up and you quickly pushed yourself up from the sofa, padding over to your mother, and leaning down to wrap your arms around her. It was the least that you could do so she didnât change her mind. âI could never miss it. Thank you, mom.â
You decided to stay downstairs with your parents for a little longer so that you didnât make it too obvious that you were only there to ask about signing up. As it started to get further into the night, you crept upstairs to your bedroom and pulled the application that Mandy gave to you âjust in caseâ out from your drawer, grabbing a pen and filling in all the details.
There were more forms that you needed to sign and some training you had to do before you became an official leader, but it seemed pretty sweet to you that youâd be reliving your childhood, but as a leader that you used to look up to instead. It would be something that you could proudly put on forms for future jobs.
Youâd be shaping kidâs lives, watching them try out new things and seeing how their faces light up, just like yours did when you were in their position years ago. Theyâd learn something valuable that they could wave around and show off to their friends which most kids wouldnât be learning if they were constantly in their homes.
Your finger traced under your writing on the application, checking that everything was correct before quickly scribbling your signature down at the bottom. Life sounded less dull knowing that youâd be lighting fires, securing helmets on childrenâs heads for rock climbing, pitching tents, kayaking through rivers and hopefully not tipping over instead of being in your home all day, rethinking your whole life.
It all came back to this being an escape to forget about Steve, because the awful thing about it was that he really was sweet until he came out with these childish responses, and thatâs what you couldnât wrap your head around. He was careful with you, and he had to fuck that up. You didnât want to ever find out the real reason for his distance. It was probably best to never find out.
Every year, towards the end of the summer, all the scout groups in your area come together to host a huge three-night camp to celebrate the childrenâs and leaderâs achievements. It was a way for the kids to show off the skills they have learned or a chance for new starters to learn something new and to earn badges they havenât had the chance to get.
The coach journey on the way to the campsite was always one of the best parts. All the kids were chanting words, singing songs they made up on the spot, counting how many silver-coloured cars they could see, asking the driver âhow long until weâre there?â and groaning when the driver replied with âsoonâ. One of the kids came to the front of the coach to sit beside you because his tummy felt uneasy which happened every time.
Once the coach started rocking and bumping over the pebbles and branches, your head turned to look out the window and the campsite came into view. There were already other coaches parked up further into the campsite with the other Scout groups stepping off to set up their tents for the next few days.
The coach started to slow down along the rocky path, and the cabins in the centre of the camp started to come into view. All the leaders get to stay in a cabin whilst the children stay in a tent. Itâs an unfair advantage that gets spoken about every year, but you always shrug and tell the kids that it wasnât a decision that you made. In the centre, thereâs a huge cabin with toilets, a seating area, self-catering area and a room for any emergencies or accidents.
As soon as the coach came to a stop in the parking area, you whip your head around and see all the children already unbuckling their belts and getting up to grab their bags from the overhead compartment which you had clearly told them not to do before you set off.
âOkay, okay! Everyone take a seat.â You rush to stand up and call out so that the children at the back can hear you. âNo pushing. When the row in front of you have grabbed their bags, then you can get up and get yours.â You say, shaking your head. âChristopher! What did I just say? Sit back down.â
Christopher grins at you from the aisle, slowly moving back to his seat. âIâm very sorry, your highness. I wonât do that again.â
The children start to giggle between each other at his comment, and you press the heel of your palms to your eyes with a sigh, then turning to the driver who looks horrified, pulling a laugh from you.
âIâll help you unload the bags in the luggage compartment, makes this easier and quicker for the both of us.â You say with a small smile.
He lets out a relieved sigh, opening the doors. âThank you.â
For the next twenty minutes, you spend your time taking out bags from the compartment at the side of the coach, waving them in the air for the children to come collect them. The children are already distracted, getting impatient because youâre spending too much time grabbing everyoneâs bags.
Once you passed the final bag over, the driver slams the compartment shut and thanks you a few times before sprinting back onto the coach. You walk over to your group that decided not to listen to you and wander off after they collected their bags. Their shoes are already covered in dirt, and you havenât done anything remotely messy yet.
You sigh, adjusting the bag on your shoulders. âI encourage you all to go to the toilet before you do anything. We had a long journey, and I donât want anyone to be complaining that they need to go when weâre halfway through an activity. Do I need to repeat myself?â You ask, looking around.
They collectively nod, earning quiet âyesâs from some of the children.
âGood. The toilets are in the main cabin in the centre. Place your bags in the seating area for the time being, then weâll get the tents set up.â You confirm with a smile, leading them over to the cabin.
The main cabin is already busy, and you suspect that all the groups havenât arrived yet. There are children already running laps around the outside of the cabin and leaders leaning against the railing with mugs in their hands. You step inside and hold the door open for your group, waiting for them to set their bags down and make their way to the toilets.
It heavily smells of pinewood mixed with coffee from the self-catering area. You glance around the room until your eyes land on Mandy, the main leader of your group, and walk up to her with a sweet smile, gently tapping her shoulder.
Mandy turns around and almost jumps back like sheâs surprised you made it here in one piece. âI was beginning to think you werenât going to make it. How was the journey?â She asks with a grin, placing her coffee down on the table and patting the side of your arm.
You suck in a breath. âThe kids talking each otherâs ears off as usual. My instructions went through one ear and straight out the other, apparently. How was setting up?â
She gives you a look that already tells you sheâs ready to be up and out of here. Her hand comes up to cover her mouth so nobody can see or hear what sheâs saying. âOh, it was awful. All these leaders have badges that Iâm surprised they have. Nobody was cooperating. So much for being a leader.â She mumbles.
âIâm glad I wasnât setting up this year then.â You laugh.
âTheyâve picked an awful spot for camping this year. Iâll be shocked if they even did a risk assessment on this place.â She rolls her eyes. âIâm so glad that we get to pick where camp is next year.â
You nod. âI trust that youâll pick somewhere nicer.â
A man calls out from behind Mandy. âHey, we need some help over here.â
She flashes a quick smile to the man and then shoots you a helpless look as she follows him. You settle down on a wooden chair nearby, crossing your leg over the other whilst you wait for your group to finish up. The main doors into the cabin open and a man steps inside with a heavy looking backpack that surely looks like itâs going to knock him over.
He shrugs his bag off his shoulders and places it down beside a chair with a grunt. When he turns around to brush the crease in his trousers, it almost knocks the air from your lungs. Your stomach twists and you turn your head to the side as if he wonât work out who you are that way, glancing at him from the corner of your eye.
The reason you were sat here in the first place is sat in front of you, and you have no idea if heâs up to something or if he innocently signed up for this. After a few seconds of trying to avoid his gaze, you can see his eyes land on you and how he freezes. You swallow, rolling your eyes before narrowing your eyes at him, trying to work out why heâs here.
âSteve.â You say coldly. âYouâre kidding, right?â
He presses his lips together, awkwardly glancing around the room, then his eyes drop to the floor.
You raise your eyebrows. âAre you back to convince me that you were attacked by aliens and you saved the day in your little fairytale?â You scoff. âYouâre such a child, Steve. Itâs honestly pathetic.â
His eyes dart to yours helplessly. âDonât mention that. Donât ruin this.â
âRuin this?â You laugh. âYouâre acting like you didnât ruin a whole lot of shit for me two years ago. Why are you even here? I didnât think this was your type of thing. Thought youâd be sticking to partying, not camping.â
âI volunteered myself.â He says quietly like itâs something he should be ashamed of.
A laugh slips from you again. âNo way. Iâve got to be in another world right now. Maybe itâs the one with all the monsters you warned me about.â You quip.
His shoulders slump and he brushes his hands against his trousers. âAre you going to be like this the whole time we are here?â He asks.
You shrug. âDepends.â
Before he can ask you anything else, your group comes rushing back into the seating area and he clears his throat, standing up and walking away. He turns his head around to look at you, only for you to still be looking at him, and he quickly whips his head back around to focus on the self-catering station.
You stand up from your chair, dropping your gaze to all the children in front of you with a small smile, trying to forget that your ex-boyfriend is in the same room as you. âHave we got everyone here? Whereâs Lizzie?â
âSheâs still in the toilet.â Sally says from beside you.
âCould you go and tell her to be a little faster? We need to stick together.â You ask.
Sally nods and stumbles her way through the crowd of people, disappearing into the toilets. She comes back out a few seconds later with Lizzie flapping her wet hands about, trying to dry her hands quicker. They stand in front of you and you do a head count, checking that youâve got everyone.
âPerfect. Grab your bags. Letâs set up.â You say, grabbing your bag and quickly glancing over at Steve before you head outside.
After a long trek down the site to find an open area, the children set their bags down and their gear to pitch their tents. You help the children clear out the sticks and rocks in the area so that itâs flat enough to keep the tents stable. One of the children comes up beside you, leaning down to grab the twigs scattered around.
âWho was that man you were talking to before?â Sally asks curiously.
You turn your head to face her with a small smile, even though the thought of him right now is making you feel uneasy. âHe was an old friend of mine. I havenât seen him in a long, long time.â You reply with a half-lie. You werenât looking to explain to a young teenager about a relationship you had when it shouldnât be something she should be thinking about yet.
âYou looked like you were angry at him.â She says, and you pause.
Your shoulders drop and you sigh. âDid I?â You ask, trying to sound like you didnât know you looked angry, when you were very much more than angry at Steve.
She nods, holding her stack of twigs and sticks close to her. âDid he do something wrong?â
âNothing that you should worry about.â You smile, gently rubbing her back. âWeâre going to be pitching the tents in a moment, so you can place the sticks somewhere away from our area. Preferably in a place where nobody will trip over them.â
She flashes you a quick smile and hurries back over to her friends with a quiet giggle. They probably saw something that you didnât catch, and you were mortified about whatever questions they were going to ask you over the next few days. You walk over to the camping gear and clap a few times to gain their attention.
âQuick re-run over the rules.â You call out and they shuffle along to you. âThere are four of you allowed in each tent. We have an odd number, so three is okay, but we canât have five. Thereâs not enough space for five in a tent.â
The children are looking at each other, waving at their friends as they silently work out who they want in their tents. Some of them silently start moving towards their friends, wrapping their arms around each other like youâre going to pull them away if they donât.
âAre we allowed to switch tents with our friends, so we all have a turn?â Robert asks.
You slowly nod. âIâll say yes, but youâre responsible for moving your own gear and items and if thereâs any drama over switching, then Iâll stop you from switching at all. Any more questions?â You ask, and they go silent. âOkay. Letâs pitch the tents. Help each other out, thatâs what youâre all here for.â
They grab their gear from beside your feet and rush to a space to claim it. Your group have a lot of practice with pitching tents, and if needed, they can help the newer children who arenât sure what to do. The point of this camp is to show skills, and teamwork is definitely up there.
As youâre walking around to check in on the groups setting their tents up, you can hear cheers and giggles coming from somewhere nearby. You turn around on your heel to see another Scout group coming to set up beside yours, and then you see Steve slowly trailing behind them with their gear in his hands, looking grumpier than ever.
âYou alright over there?â You laugh at Steve. âYou look like youâre struggling.â
He huffs, gripping the bags tighter. âIâm fine, thanks.â
âDo they not have their own hands to carry their things?â You ask as he walks past you.
âDoesnât look like it.â He grumbles, grunting as he placed the gear on the floor, stretching his arms out.
His group seem to be using him as their own personal assistant, holding their bags and now attempting to pitch their tents that they donât look that bothered trying to do. Youâve been standing watching him try to set up one of the childrenâs tents for the past five minutes, but he keeps sighing to himself and convincing the children that heâs âgot itâ.
You glance at your group who have already pitched their tents, and theyâre sitting inside them, sorting the sleeping bags. After a while of contemplating going to help Steve save himself from embarrassment and possibly ending up with the children sleeping on grass, you walk over to him.
Heâs trying to push the poles through the tent, but the poles keep popping out of the tent, collapsing it. You stand beside him, assessing whatâs in front of you. âHave you ever pitched a tent before?â You ask, looking him up and down.
He clears his throat, folding his arms over his chest. âNo, I havenât.â
âI can tell.â You murmur, glancing at the collapsed tent.
âWhyâd you ask me then?â He sighs, rubbing his hand against the side of his face.
You grin. âBecause youâve been making a right fool out of yourself in front of everyone for the past ten minutes. Itâs hilarious.â
âHelp me out then.â He groans.
âAw, thatâs sweet. Youâre asking me for help.â You tease, already leaning down to pick up the poles that popped out of place and securing them tightly. âItâs a tent, Steve. If you donât secure the poles tight enough, of course itâs going to collapse. This is supposed to be able to get through all types of weather. I thought that would be obvious.â
His ears go red at your comment as he watches you thread the poles through the tent. âI know that. The poles just⌠werenât tightening any further.â He replies. âFaulty.â
âSure.â You drag out, pushing the poles into the ground. âNeed the pegs.â
âWhat do they look like?â He asks, searching through the bag.
âOh Jesus, Steve.â You sigh, looking over your shoulder. âThey should be silver and look like a hook.â
He scrambles through the bag, metal clinking together, and he takes out a handful of pegs, placing them in the palm of your hand. You push a peg into the ground to secure the corner, then push yourself up to secure the other three. Once youâve checked that the tentâs secured, you step back beside him and take a look at it.
You tilt your head to the side with a grin. âThink you can do that for the other tents?â
âSure, I can. Seems easy.â He says confidently.
âIf it was easy, you wouldnât have been struggling to connect poles together, which isnât even the hardest part of pitching a tent, by the way.â You add, pressing your lips together to suppress a laugh.
His eyes narrow at you and he drags his hand down his face, looking completely hopeless. âYouâre making this sound worse than it is.â
âItâs pretty unfortunate that you canât set up a tent. Iâm looking forward to see you trying to do other things.â You flash a mocking smirk at him.
âThis is like a field day for you.â He sighs.
You shrug with a smile. âHave fun pitching the rest of your groupâs tents. I expect to be back here in five minutes, tops.â
You walked back over to your group, smiling way too much for someone whoâs only been here for two hours.
By the time the sun set behind the trees, all the Scout groups came together to sit around a fire that was much taller than you. Every group was tasked by the camp manager to grab as many logs and sticks as they could and bring them over. It became a competition between the children in your group that the person with the most sticks won, and it caused a lot of bickering whilst you were walking over.
Your group are sitting on the grass with blankets settled over their shoulders as they try to stay warm as the fire is doing nothing to keep anyone warm right now. The camp manager advised everyone to stay as far back from the fire to prevent anyone getting caught on fire, which was silly because the fire was mostly there for aesthetic more than for keeping everyone warm.
Steveâs group are beside you, which isnât surprising. Youâre convinced heâs going to be practically by your shoulder every day, and you donât know whether to be angry that heâs doing this or keep mocking him. Heâs been glancing at you all night, then looking away when you look over at him. Heâs not subtle at all, and that only makes it funnier.
His group move to sit around him, breaking the main circle that connected all the Scout groups together. You glance at him, then at your group, watching as they stop their conversations between each other to see what Steveâs group is up to.
He notices that your groupâs attention is on him, and his eyes dart to yours. Youâre about to say something to take offence of this betrayal, but his voice cuts through. âWould you like to listen to a spooky story?â He asks your group, and they nod quickly, already shuffling over to mix with Steveâs group.
You huff and roll your eyes, shuffling yourself over with your group because there was nothing better that you could come up with anyway. He only smiles at your reaction, his eyes staying on you for a moment.
âDoes it contain monsters in this story?â You ask, clearly referencing what he told you two years ago.
âYouâll have to see.â He shrugs, leaning against the log behind him. âThere was once a girl that was walking through the woods to get back home.â
You roll your eyes, mumbling. âCheesy.â
He shoots a look at you. âMy story is anything but cheesy, thank you.â He replies, turning back to the children. âAnyway. She stumbled across a house in the middle of the woods with all the lights on. It had vines growing on the walls and it was old looking. She decided to check out the house and saw that the front door was open.â
One of the children huddled up in the group calls out. âWhy would she go look?!â
Steve grins and continues. âShe walked up to the front door and knocked once, waiting for someone to respond, but nobody responded so she knocked again. Again, there was no answer. She pushed the door open and stepped inside. The house was nicely decorated with paintings hung on the walls.â
The children are all leaning forward, their attention set on Steve. This is probably the one time that theyâre going to be listening to something thatâs been said to them.
âShe decided to look around the house, so she walked through the living room. There was a coffee cup on the table, so it was clear someone was inside there recently. She continued to walk through the house, checking out the kitchen and looking through cupboards.â
His voice started to deepen, and though you swore to yourself that some childrenâs story wasnât going to scare you, you could feel goosebumps prickling at your skin. You wanted to blame it on him dragging out the story.
âThen she decided to walk upstairs, dragging her hand along the hand railing. She stopped at the top, looking left and right. To her left, there was a long hallway leading to a room at the end, and to her right, there was a bathroom. She stepped into the bathroom to look around. The bathtub was pristine and everything was neatly set out.â He continued, glancing around at the children.
âThis doesnât sound scary.â A child says confidently.
âShe stepped out the bathroom and wandered down the long hallway, slowly pushing the door open. It was a huge bedroom. Everything in there was white. The walls, wardrobe, dressing table and the bed. Then she noticed that there was a bump under the covers of the bed.â He said as a whisper.
The children gasped, gripping onto each other, holding them close.
âShe walked up to the bed, placing her hand on the corner of the covers and then⌠BOO!â He lurches forward with a loud scream that was surely going to capture the attention of the other groups, causing all the children to jump, pulling a laugh from him.
You flinch backwards, your heart hammering against your ribs, placing your hands beside you on the grass. His eyes land on you and he laughs, sliding his hand through his hair. âScared, huh?â He asks.
You clear your throat, shaking your head and rolling your eyes. âBe quiet, Steve. That wasnât scary. I wasnât scared.â
âSure, you werenât.â He grins, proud of himself.
âWhat happened next?â Christopher asks.
Steve turns to look at him. âThe rest is unknown.â
All the children gasp, leaning into each other to whisper. You awkwardly brush your hands on your legs, glancing at your group. âI think itâs time you all head back to your tents now. We have a long day tomorrow.â You say quietly, pushing yourself to stand up.
They all whine and groan at your comment, slowly getting up from the grass.
âYouâll be thanking me tomorrow, I promise.â You add, doing a quick head count.
Steve stands up, brushing the grass that was stuck to his trousers. âDid you like my story?â He grins.
âIâve heard better, Steve.â You murmur, leading your group to their tents, turning your flashlight on as it started to get dark.
Once you made sure that they were settled down in their tents, earning a few complaints because it was âtoo earlyâ, you head to your cabin. You stepped inside and closed the door behind you, walking straight over to your bed and flopping backwards. You werenât sure whether to hope for the days to go quickly or for them to drag for as long as they could.
The birds on the window ledge of your cabin woke you up early in the morning. Youâd barely sat up in bed, and you already heard the kayaks being dragged across the grass and water splashing as people jumped in. The best part about camp was that there was no strict timetable, but activities ran all day which meant you could stay in bed for an extra five minutes.
You eventually slipped out of bed and quickly pulled on baggy shorts and a T-shirt that slipped from your shoulder. The main cabin was packed with leaders sitting in the seating area, deep in conversation. You walked over to the self-catering area and picked up a mug, turning the kettle on and waiting for the water to boil.
Youâve barely had time to process that Steveâs here, and heâs always around, wherever you look. Heâs stood in a corner, leaning against the windowsill, sipping his drink. The kettle clicking pulls your gaze away from Steve and you pour the water into your cup, stirring the coffee.
Mandy walks over to you with a more cheerful smile than yesterday. âMorning.â
âMorning.â You grin, leaning against the wall.
âI know I said that this campsite was awful, but the beds are really comfy, so Iâll give them that.â She says, raising her cup in the air.
You nod, taking a sip of your coffee. âFelt like I was back at home, honestly. The cabins are really cozy. Iâm glad we get a pass and donât get to sleep in a tent.â
âIâm thankful for that every time we camp.â She replies, glancing around the room, then back at you. âThat guy has had his eyes on you for a long time, by the way.â
âWho?â You ask.
She nods her head backwards, gesturing to Steve. âHim.â
You glance at Steve whoâs looking at you, and he quickly turns his head around, pretending to look through his pockets. âRight, yeah. Him.â You murmur.
âNow youâve got to tell me.â She says curiously.
âAnother time, another time.â You laugh. âThis is not the place for me to be speaking about it.â
âRight, but I will keep pestering you.â She grins, sipping her coffee. âWeâre on kayaking today. Iâve made sure that our kayaks are safe, and theyâre waiting to be used.â
Your head drops dramatically. âI have to do the honors of bringing them there and trying to get them to be sensible with the kayaks, how fun.â
She nudges your side with her elbow. âYouâll do great. Iâll be taking over to do the nature trail later tonight, anyway.â
âMy savior.â You laugh.
When you finally reached the groupâs tents after a long, five-minute walk from the main cabin to their area, they were already out of their tents and dressed, playing noughts and crosses with sticks in the mud. You clap your hands together to gain their attention, and they drop their sticks.
âIâll be going through this once, so listen up because I wonât be repeating myself. This morning you will be kayaking with me. Then weâll be going to the cabin for lunch. Youâll have an hour of free time, as long as youâre staying on the grounds and behaving appropriately. Then Mandy will be taking you on a nature trail in the afternoon.â You say, clasping your hands together.
Then their questions started to flood in, and you could barely make out what anyone was saying to you.
âWhoa, whoa. One at a time.â You laugh and then point at Robert. âGo on.â
âAre we allowed to swim?â He asks.
You shake your head. âNot in the part of the river that weâre heading to, no.â Then you point to Sally.
âDid you like the spooky story last night?â She asks, earning giggles from the rest of the group.
âIt was okay.â You say, trying to hold in a laugh. âAre there any serious questions?â You ask, watching as their hands drop down and you nod. âLetâs get going.â
Once you arrived at the dock by the river, the kayaks were already in the water, the paddles settled on top. The life jackets were hung up on pegs beside the dock, so you get your group to line up whilst you pass them the jackets and secure them tightly. As youâre finishing tightening the last life jacket, Steve appears in front of you with an awkward smile on his face, his group behind him.
âOh, today is my lucky day.â You sigh, grabbing a life jacket for yourself and slipping it on.
He reaches behind you to grab the life jackets, passing them to his group. âIncredibly lucky.â
If you thought it was bad enough having to see Steve whilst you were in the cabin or gathering with your group at their tents, then kayaking was a whole lot worse. You got your group into their kayaks and had to pair one of your children with one of the children in Steveâs group as they were double kayaks, and you needed to fill space.
When all the children were in, you walked along the dock to get to your kayak with Steve trailing behind you, tightening his life jacket. You paused as you looked around the water, only seeing one kayak.
âReally? Are you kidding me?â You groan.
He peers over the fence. âOnly one left, huh?â
âIâm so glad that you have eyes too, Steve.â You huff, looking around again like one will appear in front of you if you look hard enough. âFront or back?â You ask, folding your arms as you turn to face him.
He blinks at you. âWhat?â
âSteve.â You whine. âFront or back of the kayak before I change my mind.â
âBack.â He replies. âI donât think Iâll be good at the front if I donât know what Iâm doing. Iâm not experienced with kayaking in the slightest.â
You grip onto the dock, slowly lowering yourself down into the front of the kayak. âOf course, youâre not. Iâm not shocked.â You mutter.
He lowers himself into the back of the kayak, holding onto his paddle. âIâm honestly quite shocked that youâre letting me in the same kayak as you.â
You gently push off the dock so that you have enough room to paddle. âDonât get yourself too excited. There was only one kayak left, and youâre not allowed to leave your group unsupervised. Iâm only doing this because we have no choice.â You mumble. âLegally.â
As your groups are already off down the river, paddling away, way ahead of you, youâve barely made it past the dock. Steveâs been trying to use the paddle, but heâs only been pushing you backwards into the rocks.
You look over your shoulder. âSteve, are you even watching what Iâm doing?â
âI am. Have some sympathy. This is my first time kayaking.â He huffs.
âWeâre not in sync at all. You need to be paddling in sync with me.â You sigh, facing forwards again. âJust keep your paddle still whilst I at least try get us closer to the kids, then you can try again. Watch what I do.â
He sets his paddle down and you start to paddle down the lake, eventually catching up with the children who turned their heads around to laugh at you. Steve laughs from behind you, seeing you get so frustrated.
âTheyâre laughing at you too, Steve.â You snapped, only making the children laugh more.
They continued to paddle down the river, pointing out otters that are laid on their backs, probably having more fun than you are. Eventually, Steve starts to paddle too, getting the hang of the movements and following what you do. Your paddle swoops under water, coming up and splashing Steve in the face.
âHey, you got me wet.â He grumbles, brushing his hand over his face.
You grin, turning your head around. âYou were bound to get wet at some point, Steve. Youâre on a river.â
He rolls his eyes and waits for you to continue paddling before he starts moving side to side, making the kayak rock. You stop paddling and brace your hands on either side of the kayak.
âSteve!â You squeal, water sloshing around you as he rocks the kayak.
âWhat? I thought we were supposed to get wet on a river?â He teases.
You whip your head around, shooting him a glare. âIf we end up in the water because of you, I swear to God.â
When you completed a lap around the river, being the last kayak to get back to the dock, you were quick to get out of the kayak, pushing yourself up and drying off. You didnât hear the end of it from the children. They were relentless about you and Steve failing to get around the river in shape. You were crowned as the losers for the rest of the day, which you could agree was deserved.
Some of the other Scout group leaders saw you and Steve trying to get around the river together too, and their comments were worse. You wanted to go into your cabin and stay there until the coaches arrived on the last day.
At least Steve got something fun out of it, because clearly, he was more bothered about getting a laugh out of everyone instead of taking it seriously and trying to kayak. He was still the same Steve he was years ago, and you hated that you enjoyed seeing him this way. It almost made you forget that you broke up, and you donât have this version of him anymore.
Everyone was up and out of their tents and cabins as soon as the sun rose the next morning. The heat from the sun was sweltering, and there was no air conditioning in the cabins. You had woken up in a hot sweat, immediately kicking the covers off, running to open a window.
When it was hot during camp, the only way to cool off was to jump into the water, which you were sure was going to be packed with people, and thatâd only make it feel hotter. You dress in a pair of blue shorts and a tank top before rushing out of your cabin, making your way down to the lake.
As you walked along the path by the side of the lake, you saw your group dipping into the water, some sat on the rocks with their feet dipped in, and the others splashing each other to cool down. You looked around to see many camp managers around with hi-vis on and whistles around their necks, so you took the opportunity to keep walking around and find somewhere quieter.
You pad down a dock further along the river, settling down on the edge and taking your shoes off, placing them to the side and dipping your feet in. Your body instantly relaxes, and you swish your feet around in the water. A familiar voice comes from behind you, and you donât need to turn around.
âI see weâre on the same boat.â He says with a laugh. âGet it, because weâre on a dock?â
You roll your eyes with a grin. âHa, ha. Very funny.â You say sarcastically.
He takes his shoes off, almost tripping over and losing his balance, and sits down beside you, dipping his feet into the water. His hand is too close to your hand. It might as well be on top of yours.
âItâs too crowded at the other end. Thereâs no way anyone is comfortable over there.â You say quietly.
âYeah, thatâs why I came over here. Figured it would be less busy.â He nods, glancing at you for a second. âAre you not going to get in?â He asks.
You tilt your head to the side. âI didnât bring a swimsuit with me, and Iâm not walking back to my cabin dripping in water. Iâll save myself.â
âEveryone will be doing the same.â He shrugs. âI will be doing the same.â
âWell, youâre not me, Steve.â You smile, focusing on kicking your feet in the water. âIâm more than happy sitting up here with my feet in the water.â
He exhales through his nose, standing up and lifting his shirt off his head so heâs just in his shorts. âSuit yourself.â
He jumps off the edges of the dock into the water, coming up to the surface with his hair stuck to his forehead, spitting the water out. You roll your eyes and brush the water away from your face. Your eyes flick down to the deep scarring on his neck below his moles that youâve never seen before, and you canât push down the worry thatâs growing inside you.
You clear your throat and look back at his face, trying not to focus on the scars. âWhen did you become a Scout leader, anyway?â You ask.
âAround seven months ago.â He replies, treading water.
Your eyebrows raise, surprised. âWow. That actually sounds like a long time for you. Iâm shocked youâve lasted this long as a leader.â
âThe kids are fun when theyâre not ignoring me.â He sighs. âTheyâre yet to take me seriously for once.â
âThey seemed to take you pretty seriously when you were telling that spooky story the other night.â You grin, resting your hands on the edges of the dock.
He smiles and shakes his head. âThat was a first and a last. They only listen if Colin is talking, the other leader.â
âIt was the same with my group for a while. Theyâll get used to you eventually.â You say, flashing him a small smile. âI mean, Iâm not shocked that they donât take you seriously though. Youâre Steve.â You laugh.
âWhatâs that meant to mean?â He asks.
How he doesnât know about the effect that he has on people is slightly shocking. He can effortlessly make everyone laugh, every room that he walks into. Heâs done that for years.
You shift on the dock, resting your hands on your lap. âDonât twist my words and think that Iâm being friendly with you, but youâre really funny without meaning to be. Youâre an idiot that can make anyone laugh. Itâs stupid, really. Nobody can take you seriously when youâre making them laugh.â You admit quietly, already regretting potentially boosting his ego.
âYouâre definitely being friendly with me.â He grins.
You kick your foot under the water, splashing his face with a laugh. âLike I said, donât twist my words.â
âRight, right, whatever.â He smiles, rubbing the water from his eyes. âI always knew youâd end up signing up to be a leader, but when did this happen?â
âTwo years ago.â You sigh, your shoulders dropping. âIt took a lot of convincing my parents to get here. They really wanted me to stay with them.â
He presses his lips together. âSounds like your parents, alright. Youâre old enough to be making your own decisions.â
âBelieve it or not but I said the exact same thing to them.â You laugh, your eyes flicking down to the scars on his neck again.
The conversation between you both went on for a while until the camp manager blew the whistle and you had to get up to meet up with your groups for the next activities, even through the heat. He pushed himself up onto the dock and threw his shirt over his shoulder, walking beside you to the main area.
Whilst you were doing the next activity with the children, your mind and eyes couldnât help but wander back over to Steve. It felt like nothing had changed whilst you were updating each other on your lives since being apart. You felt sick thinking about the scars on Steveâs neck, and you felt a strong urge to find out what happened.
Later in the night, you tried to get yourself settled down in bed, but you only sat against the headboard, staring at your door. The scars on Steveâs neck were practically burned into your eyes, and you felt uneasy going to sleep to never find out. You padded over to your window, looking outside to see a few people with their flashlights walking down the path, probably the last people to get into their cabins.
For a few moments, you paced around your cabin, not caring so much if your movements wake anyone up, trying to fight back the urge to have all your questions answered overnight. You cave in and slip your shoes on, grabbing your jacket from the hook and opening the door, quietly closing it behind you.
You remembered where Steveâs cabin was as youâve given the cabin annoyed glances every time youâve watched him walk in or out over the past few days. Once you reach his cabin, you quietly walk up the steps and knock on his door, hoping that heâs awake. The door opens seconds after, heâs standing in a T-shirt and shorts, his hair still messy from the lake. His mouth goes wide open, unable to form words.
âI know itâs late, donât tell me. Can I come inside?â You ask. âPlease?â
He nods quickly, stepping to the side. âYeah, yeah, of course.â
You walk inside, brushing your shoes against the mat beneath your feet, and he closes the door behind you. He stands closely in front of you, his hand hovering over your side, looking more confused than he ever has.
âThe scars on your neck, where are they from?â You swallow.
His eyes glass over and he shakes his head with a scoff. âWe are not going there, not tonight. Iâm not looking for having an argument over this again.â
âWhat do you mean again? This is the first time Iâve asked you about this.â You ask, squinting your eyes at him.
âBecause my answer is something that you think Iâm lying about, and I donât want to see you walk away from me because of it again.â He chokes out.
You freeze hearing the crack in his voice. There was no way that whatever he had to say was a lie if heâs being this vulnerable in front of you, and if he is lying, then youâll give it to him that heâs a pretty good actor.
âTell me.â You say, more quietly.
He shakes his head. âIâm not arguing with you over this again. Itâs not worth it.â
You look down at the ground for a moment, then back into his eyes. âIâll listen, Steve. No matter how insane youâre going to sound.â You say, gently taking his arm and already leading him over to his bed before he can say no, sitting down on the edge.
âPlease listen.â He whispers, gently placing his hand on top of yours when you nod. âWhen I was constantly disappearing and not letting you know where I was, it was for your safety. I didnât want you to come out and look for me only to get hurt. I wasnât going to sit there and let anything come for you.â He swallows, squeezing your hands tighter. âSo, when you asked me to be honest, I couldnât lie to you.â
You nod slowly, letting him continue.
âI know it sounds like some fantasy. I get it, it sounded like a fantasy to me too until I saw it all, but everything that I told you was real. Since then, I lost more friends in that place. My friends have lost their friends there too. Part of me was glad that you didnât believe me, because that way you were safe, but I lost you, which was one of the things I tried so hard to stop from happening.â His voice breaks.
Your thumb brushes over the back of his hand. âSo, the scars are from one of the⌠creatures there?â You ask, the word sounding weird on your tongue.
He nods. âIt was a bat. Not the kind of bats that you see here, though. I wouldnât say thatâs the worst scar I have.â He says, slightly lifting his shirt to show you the scars on his sides and over his stomach.
Your eyes widen. âJesus, fuck, Steve. I donât know how I never saw those.â
He shrugs, letting his shirt flop down. âTheyâre definitely not the most beautiful sight.â
You look into his eyes, your lip trembling. âI donât even⌠I feel sick. You were getting hurt and I left you on your own, during probably the most horrific time.â
His hand comes to your cheek, gently brushing away a tear that you didnât realize slipped. âNo, baby. I understood why you didnât believe me, because I know that I do sound insane when I say it. Iâm not blaming you for not believing something that doesnât sound real.â
The nickname coming so effortlessly from his lips snapped something inside you, and your arms carefully come around him, burying your face into his neck. âIâm still so sorry. You were hurt. I wasnât there to help you.â You sob.
His hand gently comes through your hair, holding you close to him after years of not being able to hold you. âThereâs nothing to be sorry for. Iâm safe now. We are all safe now.â
He gently brings you closer, sitting you down in his lap, his hands resting on your waist. You slowly lift your head from his neck, your eyes glassy. âNothing will hurt you again?â
âNothing. We made sure of it.â He whispers.
Your face comes to his neck again, gently pressing your lips over one of the scars on his neck. His hands tighten on your waist, a soft gasp escaping from his lips. You pull back from his neck, and he immediately presses his lips to yours. Your hands slip into his hair as he deepens the kiss. He shifts and slowly lays you on your back on the bed, keeping his lips on yours.
His hand slides up your side to rest on your cheek whilst his tongue slips across yours, pulling a gasp from you. He slowly started to rut against you, and you felt your cheeks heat up at the sight, almost forgetting to take a breath. Your hand comes up to gently tug the sleeve of his shirt, and he pulls away from your lips for a moment, catching at your hint.
âWanting this off?â He grins, and his cockiness is already back.
You nod quickly and he leans over you, slipping his shirt off, dipping down to kiss you again. Heâs taking his time with you, and you donât know if you want him to hurry up or keep at this pace as itâs been a while since youâve had a moment like this. His lips brush against your collarbone and he gently slides a strap down your shoulder.
âYes, off, please.â You gasp out.
He nods, pulling the other strap down and sitting you up for a moment to pull the tank top away. His lips come back down to your skin, trailing over your bra and down to your stomach, and then back to your lips again. Your fingers dig into his shoulders, a soft whine slipping from your lips.
His hand blindly comes down to your shorts, and he carefully tugs your shorts and panties down at the same time, throwing them behind him. One of your hands slips into his hair, pulling his head down and desperately pressing your lips to his again. You can feel him smiling against your lips and you feel the tears pricking at your eyes again.
Having him back under your touch again was something that you werenât ever expecting to have again. You convinced yourself that he was making some silly remarks only to never speak to you again, but you were so glad that you were wrong. Youâre always going to love him, even with how crazy his life got.
He pulls back again to pull his shorts down, his boxers going down with them too. A grunt falls from his lips as he presses himself against your skin. His forehead comes to your shoulder, his shoulders rising up and down with every heavy breath.
âI love you.â He manages out through the crack in his voice. âI never stopped. Even when I entered that⌠awful place, I thought of you. Not a day went by that I wasnât wishing that you were safe.â
Your hand gently brushes the side of his face, then sliding back through his hair, brushing his hair out of his face. âI love you, Steve. Iâm glad that youâre safe.â
A soft smile twitches at his lips and his lips press to yours before he murmurs against your lips. âTell me want you want, baby.â
You whine into his mouth. âWant you inside me. Please.â You beg, trailing your hands down his back, pressing him closer to you.
He groans, pressing his forehead to yours. âFuck, okay. Iâve got you. Iâve got you, baby.â He repeats, reaching down and stroking his cock, a strangled sound leaving his throat. âYâgotta be quiet, baby.â
You nod and he nudges his cock between your folds, quietly cursing to himself, and he slowly pushes in as the both of you gasp. His hand comes to hold your hand thatâs rested beside your head, and his other hand rests on your waist. He looks into your eyes desperately and you nod.
He took the opportunity to push further in with a desperate thrust, and his head drops to your shoulder again. Your hand gently squeezes his you get used to his little desperate thrusts. You needed a little time to adjust to him.
Once the pressure of your hand on his relaxes, he pressed his lips to yours as he began to roll his hips into yours, immediately hitting the most perfect spot. You hadnât realized that you were making sounds until his hand on your waist comes to rest over your lips and he only thrusts deeper, grinning at you.
âThere we go.â He coos, looking down between where your bodies meet for a moment before he looks back into your eyes, leaning down to press kisses along your jaw. âDoing so well for me, baby. So perfect.â He murmurs against your skin. âFuck.â
You whine against his hand, your words coming out muffled. âSo good, Steve.â
He removes his hand from your lips and quickly presses his lips to yours again to muffle both of your moans. His hands slip into both of your hands, tightly gripping them and pressing them down into the sheets. Your hands squeeze his as he shifts slightly and finds a different angle, his pace quickening.
Your hand tugs away to slip from his grip and you slide your hand between your bodies, adding pressure to your clit and rubbing messy circles with your fingertips. When he realized what you were doing, he groaned into your mouth, almost losing the pace that he set.
He murmurs against your lips. âFuck, thatâs hot.â
His hand comes to yours, removing your hand from between your bodies and replacing your hand with his, circling your clit at a brutally slow pace. You gently bite down on his plush lip. The slow pace he has on your clit mixed with his cock thrusting inside of you burns perfectly.
âSteve.â You whine.
He slightly pulls away from your lips, rubbing your clit a little quicker, watching the way your breathing hitches as you try hold back any sounds from slipping so that you donât get a lecture from any of the leaders tomorrow. âYâlook so pretty, baby. Always so, so pretty.â He whispers. âI love you⌠fuck. You feel so good. Squeezing me so tight.â He gasps, gently biting on your lip to muffle the noises coming from him.
Your hands grip onto his back, trying to hold him as close as you can even with how sticky and humid the cabin is. âI missed you, Steve.â You mumble with a gasp. âIâm sorry for doubting you and being so angry. Iâm not doing that again. Youâre not a liar.â You admit softly.
His tongue slides across your lip. âI know, baby. I donât blame you.â He murmurs, his thrusts getting deeper. âI wonât be disappearing like that again, any time soon. Unless disaster strikes again.â He grins.
Always trying to be funny, no matter where you are, and that includes in bed. You roll your eyes at his comment, gently swatting his bicep, though a little smile twitches at the corner of your lip. âIdiot.â You murmured breathlessly.
He laughs, pressing his lips to yours again, and he starts pounding into you rapidly, a muffled squeak coming from your throat. His body shudders on top of you as he feels you clench around him, and your hand slips up the back of his neck, gently rubbing slow circles below the hair at the nape of his neck, pulling the sweetest string of moans from him.
Steveâs always been vocal, and he would be a lot louder if it wasnât in the middle of the night with other leaders nearby to his cabin. You can tell heâs struggling to keep quiet, and you canât blame him. Itâs been over two years since youâve been able to do this, even months before you broke up.
You gasp into his mouth. âSteve. Fuck.â You squirm beneath him and his large hand settles on your stomach, gently pressing down. âIâm so close. You feel amazing. Fuck. Keep going. Keep going.â You repeat, rambling underneath him, your voice coming out as a whine.
He groans, pressing further inside of you. âWanna feel you squeezing me.â
You gasp, tugging the hair at the nape of his neck. âOh fuck⌠Steve.â You sob, your head dropping back on the pillows. âIâm coming. Oh, fuck! Iâm coming.â You whine and he presses his lips to yours as you squeeze around him.
He whimpers into your mouth, and he weakly thrusted a few more times before stilling inside you, filling you up perfectly, shaking above you. Youâre trembling beneath him, your breaths coming out uneven and shaky. He leans down, immediately pressing gentle kisses over your face, his hand sliding under your head to hold you close to himself.
For a moment, neither of you move, focusing on relaxing into each other. His hand on the back of your head strokes gentle circles, and he carefully pulls out, watching your face. He lays on his side, bringing you close to his chest, playing with your hair to soothe you.
âI love you.â He whispers, tucking your head into his chest. âStay in here with me. We can talk more in the morning.â
You nod, your eyes fluttering. âOkay.â You whisper. âI love you.â
âSleep, baby.â He murmurs.
For the rest of the night, he keeps you close in his arms whilst you both fall asleep. This wasnât what you thought youâd be getting out of camp when you first saw Steve arrive, but it ended the final day of camp perfectly. You got to see the part of Steve that he kept quiet, and you listened, even though it felt weird to hear.
In the early hours of the morning, Steve woke you up with a few kisses on your face, and you could feel him grinning without having to look at him. You shifted in his arms, slowly opening your eyes. He leans his head back a little to get a better look at you and he flashes you a wide grin that you could say you missed.
âI know itâs pretty early, but Iâd like for us to not deal with comments from the leaders whilst weâre in the main cabin.â He says sadly.
You raise your eyebrows. âKicking me out so soon, huh? Pretty rude of you to do after last night. Iâm taking full offence.â You joke.
He rolls his eyes, pressing a sweet kiss to your lips. âYâknow Iâd love to keep you in here. You need to get to your cabin and pack your things, though. The coaches come pretty early, and you need to make sure your kids are awake and their tents are stored.â
âLet me guess, youâll need help taking your groupâs tents down?â You ask.
He huffs. âPossibly.â
âIâm glad to be of help.â You grin, pushing yourself to sit up.
He sits beside you, the covers pooling around your waists. Your clothes are halfway off the bed and on the floor. He pulls you in for a quick kiss before he lets you slip out of bed and pick up your clothes. You slip your shorts on and pull your tank top over your head, then you slip your shoes on and your jacket.
âIâll see you if you make it to the tents in one piece.â You grin, walking over to his side of the bed and kissing his cheek.
âMissing you already.â He grins, watching you walk over to the door.
You turn your head over your shoulder to look at him before you walk out, quietly closing the door behind you. Itâs starting to get lighter outside, so you rush back over to your cabin before anyone can question you. You get inside and change your clothes before you start packing your clothes and items into your bag.
There are leaders already making their way over to the main cabin, so you swing your bag over your shoulders and walk out of your cabin, locking it behind you. You spent some time in the main cabin with the leaders, everyone having their morning coffee and talking about how the camp has been, already discussing the next one. Your eyes keep darting over to Steve whoâs grinning at you from the other side of the room, Colin beside him.
With a few complaints and groans as you had to go sort out your groups to get on the coaches, you walk down to the tents with Mandy beside you. The tents are still zipped up, and the children havenât got up yet. You sigh and clap your hands together, earning mumbles from inside the tents.
âAlright, time to get up!â You say, weaving around the tents. âThe coaches arrive in an hour, so you need to be up and dressed to take your tents down.â
They slowly shuffle out of their sleeping bags, tents zipping open as they crawl out, looking all groggy and grumpy. For the next few minutes, they lazily grab their gear bags and start to take the tents apart, which didnât take as long as you expected. You turn your head to see Steve standing by a tent, trying to take it apart.
You glance at Mandy and the group who are putting the tent gear away, and you walk over to Steve, standing in front of him. âStruggling again?â You ask with a grin.
âIâm never going to work this out.â He mumbles.
âI can teach you at some point when youâre not under pressure.â You laugh and lean down to pluck the pegs out the ground.
He grins. âMy house?â
âSure, Steve. Sure.â You nod, but youâre more than happy to do so if it meant that youâd be around him.
He helps you take the tents apart, which heâs much better at taking them apart than pitching them. It was clear that he wanted you to come over and help him for the sake of it. When youâre distracted and he sees no one is looking at you both, he presses a quick kiss to your cheek, earning a laugh and a âSteve!â from you.
Once all the tents are down, you make your way back to your group and walk down to the coach parking area, and you feel a strange tugging in your chest. You hated leaving camp anyway, but you werenât ready to be away from Steve after already having to be away from him for two years.
As youâre loading the childrenâs bags into the luggage compartment at the side of the bus, he calls your name from behind you and you whip your head around, your shoulders dropping by simply looking at him. He breathlessly pauses in front of you.
âMy bus is almost ready to go, but I needed to see you before I leave.â He gasps out, resting his hands on the sides of your face.
A smile twitches at your lips. âIâm glad youâve not disappeared again.â
âThat wonât be happening again, I swear.â He says, pulling you closer to him. âI wanted to ask if we could try us again? I understand if you donât want to after knowing what you know, but I wonât be running off anymore. Thereâs nothing crazy happening in my life.â
You tilt your head and press a sweet, gentle kiss to his lips. âYes, as long as we are safe and Iâm not going to get eaten by some weird creature.â
He grins. âTrust me, youâre safer than ever.â
âWell, you know where I live. I havenât moved anywhere, still with my parents.â You smile, dragging your hand down his chest. âFeel free to stop by.â
âOh, I will.â He says with a cocky smirk. âIâll need come camping lessons if Iâm really going to get into being a leader.â
âIâll give you some.â You laugh, resting your forehead against his shoulder. âNow, get back to your coach before they drive away and leave you here.â
He gently lifts your head from his shoulder and presses his lips to yours in a deep, slow kiss, a quiet sound slipping from him. âI love you.â He whispers.
âI love you, Steve. Iâll see you soon.â You whisper, brushing the back of your fingers over his cheek.
âDonât be surprised if I turn up tonight.â He grins, slowly stepping backwards.
You fold your arms over your chest. âOh, Iâm expecting you to.â
He waves at you before jogging over to his coach and you turn back to the luggage compartment, shaking your head with a smile. Once the bags are loaded up, you step onto the coach and take a seat next to Mandy at the front, and the driver slowly starts to drive down the path.
âI thought you were mad at your friend?â Sally asks from the seat behind you, and your cheeks heat up hearing the children laugh. They definitely saw you kissing Steve.
Camp didnât go the way you were expecting it to, but it got you right back to who you were missing, and you were glad your parents gave into you. Steve wasnât lying when he said heâd come to see you, you knew that. Youâre expecting him to be waiting at your door when you get home.
Thank you so much for reading!! Liking and reblogging is very much appreciated!! đ Also I'd LOVE to know what you think, so comments are also appreciated!!!! đđ I think I've worked on this for the past 6 days, and I'm really proud of myself hooooly shit
pairing: steve harrington x reader (w.c. 6.3k)
summary: after months of chemistry with steve, the whole group suspects there's more between you two. specially nancy, who keeps pushing the truth. you deny it, claming you're just close. until she walks in and catches you together doing more than ''just friends'' things.
warnings: porn with plot, +18 (minors do not interact), explicit nsfw, big dick steve, praise kink, fingering, unprotected sex, almost creampie, dirty talk, getting caught, secret situationship, mutual masturbation, p in v, oral sex (f & m receiving), dryhumping, jealousy behavior.
author's note: hii petition requested here :3 hope u like it n please be patient about the others one pls! love yall
you knew steve harrington for what felt like forever now.Â
it all started back when dustin first dragged him into your orbit after the chaotic demodog incident.Â
at first, steve was just your annoyingly popular friend; the former king of hawkins high who somehow ended up babysitting a bunch of kids and fighting monsters alongside them.Â
but over time, that reluctant acquaintance changed into something much deeper.
steve became one of the most important people in your life.Â
he was the person you called when you couldnât sleep.
the one who remembered your favorite snacks after a rough day.
the only one who could make you laugh even when the weight of the upside down felt crushing.Â
the two of you shared an effortless closeness that went far beyond normal friendship.Â
you spent countless nights talking in his car, shoulders brushing, exchanging quiet confessions under dim streetlights.Â
he knew your fears, your dreams, and the way you liked your drinks.Â
you knew his insecurities, his regrets, and the parts of him he hid from the rest of the world.
and yet⌠you werenât together.Â
not officially.
there were no labels, no dates and no promises.Â
just a deep, tender bond that everyone around you seemed to notice except the two of you.Â
or at least, thatâs what you told yourselves.
steve had been completely honest with you about nancy.Â
one quiet evening, months after their breakup, he told you everything; the good moments. the painful fights, the way he had failed her, and how much it hurt when things ended.Â
he spoke openly about his guilt and the lingering sadness, but he also made it clear that he had moved on.Â
the feelings were no longer romantic; they were just memories now.Â
still, he trusted you enough to lay it all bare, something he rarely did with anyone else.Â
you listened without judgment, and that night only pulled you two closer.
robin, of course, found the whole thing endlessly entertaining.Â
she never missed a chance to tease you both.Â
whenever she caught steve staring at you a little too long or noticed how his hand instinctively rested on your lower back when you walked together.
âyou two are so gone for each other itâs actually painful to watch.â sheâd smirk and say.
she loved poking at steve specifically, grinning.
âjust admit you like her. the way you look at her is embarrassing. even the kids have noticed.âÂ
steve would roll his eyes, cheeks slightly pink.
âshut up,â but he never actually denied it.
after that, you became close friends with nancy and Robin.Â
or thatâs what you thought.
one crisp afternoon, the three of you âyou, nancy, and robinâ were walking through the woods. you were supposed to be gathering information about some gates, but the conversation drifted into more personal territory.
steve was a little further ahead, scouting with eddie, but every so often he would glance back over his shoulder, his eyes finding you almost instinctively.
heâd give you that soft familiar half-smile before turning his attention back to the trail.
and nancy noticed it immediately. she let out a small bitter-sounding laugh as she pushed a branch out of her way.
ââgod, look at him. he canât even go five minutes without checking on you.ââ
you looked at her, thinking the words to talk.
ââitâs actually kind of impressive how attentive he is⌠when he wants to be.ââ nancy continued.
robin raised an eyebrow but stayed quiet, sensing the shit in tone. nancy continued again, her voice was sweet but laced with something sharper.
ââmust be nice having someone glued to you at these days.ââ
you felt heat rise your cheeks. laughing nervously, you shook your head and tried to brush it off.
ââoh, come on, nancy. itâs not like that,ââ you said quickly, forcing a smile. ââsteveâs just⌠protective of everyone. heâs not that attentive with me specially. weâre just close friends, thatâs all.ââ
nancy turned her head to look at you, her expression unreadable but her smile thin.
ââright,ââ she replied, the word dripping with disbelief. ââjust friends. of course.ââ
she looked forward again, eyes landing on steveâs distant figure as he once more glanced back toward your group.
towards you.
robin cleared her throat, trying to cut through the tension, but the damage was already done.Â
you swallowed hard, heart racing, and kept walking in silence, painfully aware of steveâs eyes still lingering on you from afar.
that same evening at the wheeler house, the group was crowded around the large dining table covered in maps, newspapers clipping, and half-empty mugs of coffee.Â
steve stood directly behind you, his tall frame leaning over your shoulder as he pointed at a particular route on the map.
his chest pressed warmly against your back, and one of his hands settled naturally on your waist, his fingers splaying possessively over the fabric oof your shirt.
the touch was innocent enough to anyone glancing over. but the way his thumb began to move âslow, deliberate circles against your sideâ was anything but.
you felt his breath ghost over the side of your neck when he spoke.
a low and intimate voice.
ââright here,ââ he murmured, his lips dangerously close to your ear. ââthis is where we need to be careful.ââ
your breath hitched. without meaning to, you leaned back into him, your hips pressing subtly against his front.
steveâs grip tightened instantly, pulling you closer for just a second.
the heat between your bodies was undeniable.
his fingers flexed against your waist, and you could feel the tension in his arm, like he was fighting the urge to do more.
the air around you felt thick, charged with something heavy and unspoken.
steveâs other hand brushed against yours on the table, lingering far longer than necessary, his pinky slowly tracing the side of your hand.
you bit your lip, trying to focus on the map while your heart hammered in your chest.
from across the table, robin smirked but stayed quiet.Â
nancy, however, watched the entire interaction with narrowed eyes, her pen frozen in her hand.
eddie, never one to hold back, groaned loudly and threw his head back in exaggerated disgust.
ââoh my god, seriously? can you two stop eye-fucking each other for five minutes? weâre trying to plan how not to die and youâre over here practically dry-humping each other in front of everyone!ââÂ
he waved his hands dramatically.
steve didnât move away immediately.Â
instead, he let out a low chuckle. his hand gave your waist one last possessive squeeze before he finally straightened up.
but the heated look he gave you over your shoulder made it very clever this moment was far from over.
you felt your cheeks burning as you avoided nancyâs sharp gaze.Â
but she said nothing.
after the group finally finished planning their strategy to confront vecna, everyone slowly dispersed.Â
leaving you and steve completely alone in the dining room.
the tension in the air was immediate and thick.
steve leaned back against the table, his arms crossed over his chest while he watched you with that cocky little smirk.
ââsoâŚââ he started, giving you a low voice full of sarcasm. ââyou gonna keep pretending in front of nancy that you arenât completely obsessed with me? or are we still playing the game?ââ
you turned to face him, trying to keep your expression neutral even though your heart was racing.
ââyouâre the one who canât keep his hands off me in front of everyone,ââ you shot back, raising an eyebrown. ââreal subtle, harrington.ââ
steve let a low chuckle and pushed off the table, slowly stalking toward you.
ââoh, iâm sorry. was i being too obvious when you were practically pushing your ass back against me earlier?ââ he stopped right in front of you, close enough that you could smell his cologne. âdonât act like you didnât love it.â
you rolled your eyes, even as heat crawled up your neck.Â
âyouâre so full of yourself.â
âand you,â he said, reaching out to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear. his fingers lingering on your jaw, âare a terrible liar.âÂ
his thumb brushed slowly over your cheek.Â
ââyouâve been looking at me the same way iâve been looking at you all day. donât think i didnât notice.â
the tension between you was electric.Â
steveâs eyes dropped to your lips.
then back up to your eyes.
he looked at you hungry.
ââyou drive me crazy, you know that?â he murmured. âacting all innocent in front of the others while you know exactly what you do to me.â
your breath hitched.Â
âmaybe you just need better self-control.â
steve smirked, stepping even closer until your bodies were nearly touching.Â
âor maybe you should stop pretending you donât want me to lose it.â
for a second, you both just stared at each other, the air heavy with unspoken desire.Â
then steve cupped your face with both hands and kissed you.
it was deep and urgent from the start.Â
you kissed him back just as fiercely, fingers sliding into his hair and tugging.Â
steve groaned softly against your mouth, one hand dropping to your waist to pull you flush against him.Â
the kiss grew hotter, tongues meeting, bodies pressed together against the table as weeks of hidden tension finally spilled over.
ââfuck⌠i hate hiding this,â steve whispered with husky voice.
before you could respond, the door swung open.
âoh, for the love of godââ robin stood there, holding two mugs of coffee, eyes wide. âagain?! i canât leave you two alone for five minutes without you attacking each other!â
the next day, you, robin, and nancy spent the afternoon at the hawkins public library.
you three were tucked away in a quiet corner surrounded by stacks of old newspapers, town history books, and anything that might give you new information about vecna.
for a while, the conversation stayed focused on research.Â
but eventually, nancy closed the book in front of her with a soft thud and looked directly at you.
âso⌠are you and steve actually together?â she asked, her voice calm but pointed.
you felt your stomach drop.Â
robin glanced up from her notes but said nothing, choosing to stay silent for now.
nancy leaned forward slightly, continuing before you could answer.Â
âbecause the tension between you two is impossible to ignore. it doesnât look like friendship. it looks like something more.â
you shook your head quickly, forcing a nervous smile.Â
âno, nancy. weâre not together. i promise. steve and i are just really close friends. thatâs all.â
nancy let out a small sigh, tilting her head as she studied you.Â
âlook, i know steve. i dated him for a long time, remember? i know exactly how he acts when heâs into someone. itâs kind of his thing when heâs flirting.â she paused for a moment, then added, âand honestly? itâs fine. it doesnât bother me. steve and i are friends now. iâve moved on.â
you felt your cheeks heat up. you shook your head again, more firmly this time.Â
âno, really. weâre not like that. we trust each other. thereâs nothing romantic going on.â
nancy gave you a small, knowing smile that didnât quite reach her eyes.Â
âof course,â she said softly, her voice sweet but edged with something sharper. âyou two are just⌠very close. i understand. itâs sweet, really.â
the comment hung in the air, light enough to seem innocent, but pointed enough to sting.
you couldnât hold back anymore.Â
ânancy⌠are you jealous?â
the question slipped out before you could stop it. robinâs head snapped up from her notes, eyes widening slightly.
nancy blinked, clearly caught off guard, but she recovered quickly with a soft laugh.Â
âjealous? no, iâm notââÂ
before she could finish, robin cleared her throat loudly and interrupted.
âokay, ladies, as fun as this is, we should probably get back to investigating,â she said, tapping the newspaper in front of her. âvecna isnât going to defeat himself, and weâre running out of daylight.â
nancy pressed her lips together for a second, then nodded.Â
âyouâre right,â she said, standing up and smoothing her sweater. âiâll go check the history section on the second floor. maybe thereâs something useful there.â
she gave you one last lingering look before walking away toward the stairs.
the moment nancy disappeared between the shelves, robin turned to you with a knowing smirk.
âalright. sheâs gone,â robin said, leaning closer. âi know thereâs something going on between you and steve. and before you try to deny it again â iâve literally walked in on you two making out. twice.â
she raised an eyebrow, waiting.
âso⌠how long has this been going on?â
you let out a long sigh, glancing around to make sure nancy was still out of earshot.Â
âa few weeks,â you admitted quietly. âit just⌠happened. weâre not officially together or anything. itâs kind of a mess, honestly.â
robin nodded slowly, a small smirk on her face.Â
âi figured. you two have been acting weird for a while. it was only a matter of time. just be careful, okay?â
you smiled weakly.Â
âyeah⌠i know.â
the rest of the afternoon passed in a blur of research.Â
when you finally got home that night, you were exhausted. you had just changed into your pajamas when the phone rang.Â
without thinking, you picked it up.
âhello?â a familiar low chuckle came through the line.
âhey, baby⌠itâs me.â you smiled, lying back on your bed.Â
âsteve. i didnât know it was you.â
âyeah, i figured,â he said, voice warm. âhow was the library? did you find anything useful, or was nancy giving you a hard time?â
you let out a soft laugh.Â
âa bit of both. we found some old records that might help with vecna, but nancy kept pushing about us again. sheâs convinced weâre together.â
steve hummed.Â
âlet her think what she wants.â hs tone shifted, becoming slower and deeper. then the quiet was made, until he talked again. âi miss you. been thinking about you nonstop since yesterday.â
âi miss you too,â you whispered.
steveâs voice dropped even lower.Â
âyeah? i keep thinking about that kiss⌠how you pulled me closer. fuck, i wanted to lift you onto that table and take my time with you right there.â
your breath caught. heat spread through your body as you squeezed your thighs together instinctively.Â
your free hand rested on your stomach, fingers twitching as you fought the urge to slide them lower.
âsteveâŚâ you breathed, voice shaky.
âiâve been all day remembering how you sound when youâre turned on,â he continued, husky and teasing. âi want you so bad, baby. i want to kiss down your neck, push your legs apart andââ
your fingers hovered just at the waistband of your pajama shorts, heart racing, breath coming faster.Â
you were so close to giving inâ
âhoney!â your big sisterâs voice suddenly echoed from downstairs. âdinnerâs ready! come down before it gets cold!â
you froze, letting out a frustrated sigh as you pulled your hand away.
âshit⌠i have to go,â you whispered, cheeks burning. âmy sisterâs calling me for dinner.â
steve groaned deeply on the other end.Â
âworst timing ever. alright⌠go eat.â he paused, then added with a smirk in his voice, âbut tomorrow iâm coming over early.â
the next afternoon, you had just stepped out of the shower, steam still filling your bathroom.Â
you wrapped a towel tightly around your body and walked into your bedroom, hair damp and skin still warm.Â
you were supposed to meet up with nancy, robin, eddie, and the rest of the group in less than an hour to go over the final details of the plan against vecna.
you were reaching for your clothes when you heard the familiar sound of your window sliding open.
you jumped, letting out a startled gasp as steve climbed through the window like he used to do back in the day.Â
he landed quietly on your floor, brushing off his jeans with a smug little smirk.
âjesus christ, steve!â you whisper-yelled, one hand clutching the towel tightly against your chest. âyou scared the hell out of me!â
he straightened up, eyes slowly dragging down your body, taking in the sight of you in nothing but a towel.Â
his smirk deepened.
âsorry, baby,â he said, not sounding sorry at all. âcouldnât wait until later.â he took a slow step closer, his eyes dark with heat. âand damn⌠this is a much better view than i imagined.â
you felt your face heat up as you took a small step back, still gripping the towel.Â
âsteve. i have to get ready. weâre meeting everyone soon and iâm not even dressed.â
he ignored your protest, closing the distance between you until he was right in front of you.Â
his fingers lightly traced the edge of the towel near your collarbone, not pulling it, just teasing.
âyou sure you donât have five minutes?â he murmured, voice low and flirty. âbecause you look way too good in just this towel.ââ
before you could answer, steveâs hands slid down to your waist, gripping you firmly as he pulled you flush against him.Â
you didnât resist.Â
the second his lips met yours, you melted into the kiss, arms wrapping around his neck.
the kiss was hungry from the start.Â
steve kissed you like heâd been waiting all day, tongue sliding against yours as one of his hands stayed firmly on your waist and the other cupped the back of your neck.Â
you kissed him back just as eagerly, fingers threading into his hair and tugging lightly, exactly how he liked it.
âfuck, i missed this,â steve breathed against your lips between kisses. âmissed tasting you⌠missed the way you sound when i kiss you like this.â
you let out a soft moan into his mouth as he deepened the kiss again, his tongue exploring yours with slow, heated strokes.Â
your body pressed tighter against his, the thin towel the only thing between you.
steve walked backwards until he reached your bed and sat down on the edge, never breaking the kiss.Â
with a gentle but firm tug, he pulled you onto his lap, straddling him.Â
the towel rode up your thighs as you settled over him, and his hands immediately gripped your hips, holding you in place.
âsteveâŚâ you whispered breathlessly, forehead resting against his as you both tried to catch your breath.
he smirked, eyes dark with want, and gave your hips a light squeeze.âWhat?â he teased, voice rough.Â
âyou said you had to get ready⌠but youâre not exactly pushing me away, baby.â
you laughed softly, still a little dizzy from the kiss, and leaned in to kiss him again, slower this time.Â
steve groaned quietly into your mouth, one hand sliding up your back under the edge of the towel while the other stayed firmly on your thigh.
âwe really donât have time,â you murmured against his lips, even as you kissed him once more.
âi know,â he replied, nipping at your bottom lip. âbut fuck⌠you make it really hard to care.â
you kept kissing him deeply, straddling his lap as the kiss grew hotter and messier.Â
your hips rocked slowly against him without thinking, and steveâs grip on your thigh tightened, pulling you closer.Â
his tongue moved against yours hungrily, one hand now fully under the towel, caressing the bare skin of your back and waist.
soon you felt him getting hard beneath you.Â
his cock pressed against your core through his jeans. you smiled against his lips and rolled your hips deliberately, grinding down on the growing bulge.
âmmm⌠already?â you teased, voice breathy and playful. âi thought you were supposed to behave.â
steve let out a low, strained groan, his hips buckling up slightly to meet your movement.Â
âyouâre the one sitting on my lap in nothing but a towel,â he muttered with a rough arousal voice. âwhat did you expect?â
you smirked and leaned in, pressing slow, open-mouthed kisses along his jaw and down his neck.Â
you sucked lightly on the sensitive spot just below his ear, then gently bit down, earning another deep groan from him.
âfuck, babyâŚâ steve hissed, tilting his head to give you better access.Â
his hands gripped your ass under the towel, squeezing as you continued grinding against his now fully hard cock.Â
âyouâre gonna kill me.â
you kissed and licked along his neck, enjoying the way his breathing got heavier every time you rolled your hips.Â
âmaybe i should stop thenâŚâ you whispered teasingly against his skin, even as you pressed down harder against his erection.
âdonât you fucking dare,â he growled, one hand sliding higher up your thigh, dangerously close to where you were both aching for contact.
steve pulled you even tighter against him and captured your mouth in a deep intense kiss.Â
his hand moved to the back of your neck, his fingers threaded into your damp hair as he held you in place, kissing you harder.Â
his tongue slid against yours with hunger, dominating the kiss completely.
you moaned softly into his mouth and started rocking your hips, grinding slowly but firmly against the hard bulge in his jeans. the friction made you both breathless.Â
steve groaned deeply, the sound vibrating against your lips as he pushed his hips up to meet every roll of yours.
he kissed you like he was starving, focusing especially on your upper lip â sucking it into his mouth, licking it, biting it gently before soothing it with his tongue.Â
he kept returning to it over and over, obsessed.Â
he was pressed so close his nose kept brushing against your cheek and almost poking the corner of your eye with every tilt of his head, but neither of you cared enough to pull away.
âfuck, babyâŚâ he panted between kisses with a rough voice. âyou feel so good grinding on me like that.â
you answered by rolling your hips harder, dragging your covered pussy along his clothed cock in slow deliberate movements.Â
steveâs grip on your neck tightened as he kissed you even deeper, sucking on your upper lip again while his other hand squeezed your ass under the towel, guiding your movements.
the dry humping became more urgent.Â
the towel had ridden up completely around your waist, and only his jeans separated you now.Â
every time you rocked forward, his hard length rubbed perfectly against your clit, making you whimper into his mouth.
steveâs nose pressed against the side of your eye again as he angled his head to kiss you even more desperately.
tongue sliding deep.
lips locked on your upper lip like he couldnât get enough of it.
without warning, steve gripped your hips and flipped you onto your back on the bed.Â
you gasped as he moved over you, settling his body between your spread legs. the towel had completely fallen open, barely covering anything anymore.
steve leaned down and kissed you hard again, then moved to your neck, sucking and biting the sensitive skin as he pressed his hard cock against your bare pussy through his jeans.
âfuck, you smell so good,â he groaned against your neck, inhaling deeply. âfresh out of the shower⌠all warm and soft. i could eat you up right now.â
you whimpered, arching your back and rolling your hips up against him.Â
âsteve⌠pleaseâŚâ
he lifted his head, eyes dark with lust as he looked down at you.Â
âplease what, baby? use your words. tell me what you want.â
âtouch me⌠please. i need you or your fingers.â your cheeks burned, but the ache between your legs won.Â
steve smirked, clearly pleased.Â
âthatâs my good girl.â he brought two fingers to your lips. âfirst, suck.â
you obediently opened your mouth and took his fingers in, sucking them slowly while looking up at him. you swirled your tongue around them, getting them nice and wet.
steve groaned at the sight, his cock twitching against you.
âfuck, look at youâŚâ he muttered, voice thick. âsucking my fingers like you would my cock. so fucking pretty.â
after a few seconds he pulled them out with a wet pop and immediately slid them down between your legs.Â
he rubbed your soaked pussy slowly, teasing your clit before pushing two thick fingers inside you.
you moaned loudly, back arching off the bed.
âshit, youâre so wet already,â steve breathed, pumping his fingers in and out of you at a steady pace. âthis pussy is dripping for me. youâve been thinking about this all day, havenât you?â
âyesâŚâ you gasped, hips moving to meet his fingers. âsteve⌠faster, please.â
he leaned down to kiss you again, sucking on your upper lip while his fingers curled inside you, hitting that perfect spot with every thrust.
âgreedy girl,â he whispered hotly against your mouth. âyou want more? want me to make you cum before i fuck you?â
you could only moan in response, nodding desperately as his fingers pumped faster, curling and rubbing against that sensitive spot inside you.Â
steve kept kissing you deeply, occasionally breaking away to suck and bite your upper lip while his thumb circled your swollen clit.
âthatâs it, baby,â he growled against your lips. âfuck my fingers like a good little slut. youâre so fucking wet⌠i can hear how much this pussy needs me.â
your hips bucked wildly against his hand.Â
the pleasure built fast and intense until it finally crashed over you.Â
you came hard around his fingers, back arching off the bed as you cried out his name.Â
steve didnât stop, working you through your orgasm with slow, deep strokes until you were trembling and breathless.
he finally pulled his fingers out and brought them to his mouth, licking them clean while staring down at you with dark eyes.
âdelicious,â he murmured.
steve then tugged the towel completely off your body, tossing it aside.Â
he started kissing down your neck, your collarbones, sucking on your tits and swirling his tongue around your nipples before continuing lower.Â
he kissed and licked down your stomach, taking his time, until he settled between your legs. he looked up at you, eyes locked with yours as he spread your thighs wider.Â
without warning, he leaned in and dragged his tongue slowly up your soaked pussy.
you arched sharply, a loud moan escaping your lips. steve groaned against you.Â
âfuck, you taste even better than i remembered.â he buried his face deeper, nose pressing against your clit as he licked and sucked eagerly.Â
his nose kept brushing and nudging against your sensitive bundle of nerves every time he moved, adding to the overwhelming sensation.
âlook at me,â he demanded, glancing up at you while his tongue flicked rapidly over your clit. âi want to see your face while i eat this pretty pussy.â
you could barely keep your eyes open, but you tried, one hand gripping his hair tightly as he devoured you.Â
steve sucked your clit into his mouth, humming in satisfaction, then pushed his tongue inside you, fucking you with it while his nose continued rubbing against your clit.
âyouâre so fucking wet for me,â he groaned between licks. âsuch a needy little thing⌠cum on my tongue, baby. i want to feel you falling apart again.â
the combination of his tongue inside you and his nose pressing rhythmically against your swollen clit quickly pushed you over the edge. your legs shook violently around his head as you came with a loud, broken moan, thighs clamping around him.Â
steve kept licking you through it, savoring every drop until you were a trembling, oversensitive mess.
when he finally pulled back, his lips and chin were shiny..Â
you were still catching your breath when you pushed yourself up, moving onto your knees in front of him on the bed.Â
your hands reached eagerly for his belt, fingers working quickly to undo it.
steve watched you with dark, hungry eyes, but just as you started to pull the belt open, he grabbed your wrists gently but firmly, stopping you.
ânot yet,â he murmured.
he cupped your face with both hands, tilting your head up.Â
then he leaned down and kissed you deeply, making sure you could taste yourself on his tongue. the kiss was slow, filthy, and possessive.Â
you moaned into his mouth as you tasted your own wetness on his lips and tongue.
when he finally pulled back, he rested his forehead against yours, breathing heavily.
âgo ahead, baby,â he whispered, voice rough. ânow you can take it out.â he released your wrists, letting you continue.Â
your hands immediately returned to his belt, unbuckling it with shaky fingers before working on the button and zipper of his jeans.
steve groaned deeply, hips twitching forward into your touch.Â
âfuck⌠baby, please,â he rasped. âdonât tease me. iâve been hard for you since i climbed through that window.â
you smiled up at him, continuing to stroke him slowly over the fabric, feeling him throb under your hand.Â
steve let out a low desperate sound, his head falling back slightly.
âshit⌠your hand feels so good. please, just touch it already.â
encouraged by his begging, you finally slipped your hand inside his boxers and wrapped your fingers around his hard cock.Â
he was hot, heavy, and hard.Â
you stroked him a few times, your thumb brushing over the leaking tip.
steve moaned, louder this time.Â
âthatâs it⌠just like that. fuck, your handââ
you didnât wait any longer.Â
you pulled his boxers down, freeing his cock. without hesitation, you leaned forward and took him into your mouth, sucking on the head before sliding down as far as you could.
âfuuuckââ steve groaned, his hand immediately going to the back of your head. âjust like that, baby. good girl⌠sucking my cock so well.â
he gathered your damp hair into a makeshift ponytail, wrapping it around his fist.
you bobbed your head, taking him deeper, your tongue swirling around him as you sucked.Â
steveâs grip on your hair tightened, guiding your movements as he gently fucked your mouth.
âlook at me,â he breathed, eyes half-lidded with pleasure. âi love watching you with my dick in your mouth.â
his other hand caressed your cheek as you worked him, occasionally pushing a little deeper, making you gag softly around him.Â
steveâs groans grew louder, his hips moving in shallow thrusts as he held your hair firmly in his fist.
you took him deeper, sucking harder, your tongue pressing against the underside of his cock while your hand stroked what you couldnât fit in your mouth.Â
steveâs breathing became ragged, his grip on your hair tightening.
âfuckâ baby, iâm close,â he warned, voice strained. âgonna cum in that pretty mouth if you keep going like thatâŚâ you didnât pull away.Â
instead, you moaned around him and sucked harder, looking up at him with watery eyes.Â
that was all it took. steve let out a deep, guttural groan as he came hard, thick ropes of cum spilling into your mouth.Â
âswallow it,â he growled, still holding your hair. âall of it, baby. good girlâŚâ
you swallowed every drop, looking up at him as you did.Â
steve watched you with pure lust in his eyes, breathing heavily. he pulled you up and kissed you deeply, tasting himself on your tongue, before gently pushing you onto your back.
he settled between your spread legs, his still-hard cock resting heavy against your soaked pussy.Â
he was very big âthick and longâ and he knew it.
steve looked down at you, his eyes dark.Â
âgonna go slow, okay baby? i donât want to hurt you.â
he laced his fingers with yours, pinning your hand beside your head, and squeezed gently. then he slowly started pushing inside you.
you gasped as the thick head stretched you open. steve groaned deeply, forehead pressed against yours.
âfuck⌠so tight,â he breathed, his rough with pleasure voice. âlook at you taking my cock so well. such a good girl for me.â
he pushed in another inch, slow and careful, watching your face the entire time.Â
âthatâs it⌠breathe for me, baby. youâre doing so fucking good. taking every inch like you were made for it.â
you whimpered as he kept sinking deeper, stretching you wide. steve kept whispering praises.
âso fucking pretty when youâre full of me⌠you feel that? feel how deep i am?â when he finally bottomed out, buried to the hilt inside you, he stayed still, letting you adjust.Â
he squeezed your hand tighter, fingers still perfectly interlaced with yours.
âyou okay, sweetheart?â he asked softly, kissing your lips. âyouâre so tight around me⌠gripping my cock so perfectly. i could stay like this forever.â
he started moving then â slow, deep thrusts, rolling his hips carefully as he kissed you again.
âsuch a good fucking girl,â he praised between thrusts. âtaking all of me so well⌠iâm so proud of you, baby.â
steve kept your fingers tightly interlaced, squeezing your hand as he fucked you.Â
at first his thrusts were slow and deep, letting you feel every thick inch stretching you open. the wet sound of him sliding in and out of your soaked pussy filled the room.
âfuck, SteveâŚâ you moaned, squeezing his hand back. âit feels so big⌠right thereâŚâ
âthatâs it, baby,â he groaned, pressing his forehead against yours. âright there? you like it when i fuck you deep like this?â
he gradually picked up the pace, thrusting harder and faster. the bed started creaking beneath you.Â
steveâs grip on your hand tightened as he drove into you with more intensity.
âfuck, youâre so tight,â he panted, voice rough. âthis pussy was made for my cock. look at you taking every inch like a good little slut.â
without warning, steve pulled out of you, making you whimper at the sudden emptiness.Â
he grabbed your thighs and easily lifted you up. you wrapped your legs around his waist as he carried you across the room and pressed you against the desk.
the wood creaked under the impact as he pinned you there. steve lined himself up and pushed back inside you in one slow, deep thrust, groaning loudly at how tight you felt.
âfuck⌠yes,â he growled against your neck.
he started fucking you against the dresser with slow, intense strokes.Â
every thrust was powerful and deliberate, his hips rolling deeply into you. the dresser shook with each thrust, the mirror rattling softly behind you.
he started fucking you against the dresser with slow, intense strokes.Â
every thrust was powerful and deliberate, his hips rolling deeply into you. the table shook with each thrust.
steve kept one hand under your thigh for support while the other gripped your hip hard enough to leave marks.Â
he buried his face in your neck, sucking and biting as he fucked you passionately.
âyou feel so fucking good like this,â he groaned, voice low and rough. âpressed against the desk⌠taking my cock so deep. such a perfect little fucktoy for me.â
you moaned loudly, nails digging into his shoulders.Â
âsteve⌠oh god, itâs so deepââ
he growled in response and picked up the rhythm slightly, still keeping each thrust slow and intense, making sure you felt every single inch.Â
the angle was perfect, his cock hitting that sensitive spot inside you with every roll of his hips.
âlook at me, baby,â he demanded, forehead pressed against yours. âi want to see your face while i fuck you like this.â
you kept your eyes on his, moaning with every deep, powerful thrust.Â
steve fucked you harder against the dresser, his hips snapping forward as he chased his pleasure.Â
his grip on your thigh was almost bruising, the other hand still holding yours tightly.
âfuck, iâm so close,â he groaned, voice strained. âyouâre gonna make me cum so hard, babyâŚâ
you were both right on the edge when the bedroom door suddenly swung open.
nancy stood there, eyes wide with shock.
for a second, everything froze.
steve was buried deep inside you, your legs wrapped around his waist, both of you completely naked and sweaty.Â
nancyâs mouth fell open.
âwhat theâ?!â she gasped, her face turning bright red. âoh my god!â she immediately turned around and slammed the door shut behind her, but not before muttering a stunned âwhat the fuckâŚâ
steve groaned in frustration, forehead dropping to your shoulder.Â
âshitâŚâ
you were both breathing hard, hearts racing.Â
he slowly pulled out of you, setting you down on shaky legs.Â
your knees nearly gave out, but he caught you, holding you against his chest for a moment.
âwe have to get dressed,â you whispered urgently, still flushed and trembling. âtheyâre probably all waiting for us.â
steve nodded, kissing you quickly on the forehead. âyeah⌠fuck. bad timing.ââ
you both rushed to get dressed â you throwing on whatever clothes you could find, steve pulling up his jeans and fixing his shirt.Â
the air was thick with frustration and leftover arousal.
once you were both decent, you took a deep breath and opened the door.Â
steve followed right behind you.
the moment you stepped into the hallway, the atmosphere shifted.Â
nancy was standing a few feet away, arms crossed tightly over her chest.
her face was still flushed with embarrassment, but now it was mixed with clear annoyance and discomfort.
she looked at both of you, her jaw tight.
âeveryoneâs waiting in the living room,â she said, her voice colder than usual. âweâve been ready for twenty minutes.â
her eyes flicked between you and steve, lingering a second longer on him.Â
steve cleared his throat, trying to sound casual.Â
âyeah, sorry about that. we⌠got distracted.â
nancy let out a sharp humorless laugh.Â
âdistracted. right.â she looked at you again, her expression unreadable. âyou might want to fix your hair before we go. itâs a mess.â
summary: you and steve promised a long time ago to never go to sleep angry. imagine your suprise when he breaks that promise.
warnings: angst, arguing, steve is stubborn and a little mean, reader is also stubborn as hell, cursing, he doesnât in fact break the promise, hurt/comfort, crying, kiss and makeup, happy ending! he still manages to be sweet
word count: 3.2k
Dating with Steve Harrington was bliss, it truly was. He was a kind man, always a loyal gentleman. He was protective and was always there for you â physically and emotionally. He was funny and so incredibly charming.
By definition, he was the perfect man.
But with all of his perfections, he had one singular flaw. His stubbornness.
Steve Harrington was as hard headed as a brick wall.
And you? Well, you could almost give him a run for his money.
Any normal day for you two was loving. Except for today.
Today, Steve seemed to have woken up on the wrong side of the bed. He claimed you hogged the blankets all night, even though it was his monster feet who kicked them to the floor.
At first it felt like tired bickering. Once the sleep washed away from him and he got a little bit of food in his tummy, all would be well.
Wrong.
At breakfast, you argued about whoâs turn it was to do the dishes. You told him everything in the sink was left by him the night before â he argued that your name was next on the chore list.
You argued about how he forgot to make the coffee for the morning. He argued that you couldâve done it too â even though heâs always done it.
You argued over his misplaced keys. Over what time Nancy said to meet at the station. Over who gets to drive â this one was entirely your fault considering you donât even like to drive, but he was really pissing you off.
The car ride there was spent with your arms crossed tight and your legs tucked into the passenger door â away from his touch â and his fingers gripping the wheel so tight, his knuckles whitened. By the time you two made it into the station, you both angrily agreed not to talk to each other.
Itâs pettiness and stress masked as arguments about nothing. The tension between you two was palpable and the group picks up on it quickly.
Youâre all standing around the common room, ready to disperse into your own jobs. You and Steve always go with Dustin to monitor Hopper â leaving everyone else back at the station to take care of things.
Youâre dreading the idea of sitting in the pre-existing tension between Steve and Dustin, and it doesnât help the fact that youâre now arguing with him too.
You move to grab your jacket when he speaks up.
âNot you.â Steve says, his voice firm but cold. You blink up at him. âByers is taking your spot tonight,â Â
You laugh incredulously. âWha â Jonathan?â
He nods down at you, zipping up his own jacket. âHe knows how to handle the navigation,â
Your face pinches at his answer. âSo do I,â
Steve avoids your eyes as he gathers the rest of his things. Itâs not because of shame or fear, but from annoyance. âDo you?â
Your eyes narrow and you can feel the fury bubbling in your chest. âDo I?â You repeat. âYou know what Steve, you really have to get over whatever bug crawled up your ass today, alright? Youâre acting like â.â
Steve cuts you off before you can finish.
âNo, do you know what?â He slams his walkie down on the cushion of the couch. When his eyes meet yours, theyâre dark and clouded. Thereâs not a trace of patience or love in them and for a moment, that scares you. âThis isnât about you. Who knows how many more chances weâre gonna get if this goes wrong and the last thing I need is you fucking up the navigation. So for once, I need you to listen to what Iâm saying and quit nagging me, alright?â
Everything around you seems to still.
All that you can focus on is the irritation covering your boyfriends face and for the first time, maybe ever, itâs all aimed at you. For whatever reason, he seems to think youâre the root cause of his sour mood today.
So what if you donât have the best track record with reading the map? Steveâs lived in his town his entire damn life, he should know the streets by now.
Itâs not just frustration you feel anymore. Now itâs shame and insecurity and embarrassment. Shame because apparently, you nag him enough for him to remember. Insecure because you couldnât even guess how long heâs been holding this in. And embarrassed because everyone around you has also stilled â now staring at the two of you like youâre a pair of animals in a cage.
That thought angers you even more.
Your jaw clenches so hard you can almost hear your teeth grinding against each other and you can feel the way your nails dig into the skin of your palms as a way to calm yourself down.
Steve stares back down at you and after a beat of silence, he seems to register exactly what he said. His eyes flutter shut and he sighs, raising his hand to gently grasp your hand.
Your face is steel as you take a step back before he can reach you. You wonât cause a scene and you also wonât give him the satisfaction of knowing how much he hurt you just now.
âYou should go then.â You tell him. He grimaces at your cold tone and makes no move to leave.
He says your name gently. âI didnât mean it like that. Just â just come with and we can â.â
You cut him off this time. âNo thanks, I wouldnât want to fuck up the navigation again.â
Steveâs shoulders deflate when you echo his earlier words.
It looks like heâs ready to say something else but before he can, youâre spinning on your heels and downstairs to the basement to meet with Joyce at the intercom. You can feel his eyes following you as you disappear but not once do you turn or falter.
It didnât matter what was causing his sudden attitude change. You were done trying to be empathetic and understanding. He wasnât about to use you as an emotional punching bag â if he didnât want to be around you then you would give him that.
Itâs hours later when Steve finally arrives back at the station. In that time, his voice cracked over the intercom a few times with updates about movements and any military activity. Each time you ignored the pang in your chest and let Robin respond.
The crawl ended up being just another tally mark under the dead end section and you all began to filter home, completely defeated.
Steve didnât offer any words as you climbed into the car together, but neither did you. It was still tense but not as tense as when he left. His foul mood is still obvious but itâs no longer white hot anger. It gives you a little bit of hope.
When you finally make it home, itâs after 10. He still hasnât spoken to you but he lets you shower first, and you take the opportunity to try and get rid of your own anger.
You werenât sure if he really cared it wasnât your voice he was hearing. It didnât seem like he cared about your absence in the van, but then again it wasnât the focus of the night. His earlier words rang in your head.
Itâs not about you.
Yet here you were, making it about you.
Youâre smart enough to realize his blow up had little to do with you. It was a culmination of stress of the crawls, stress from his newly strained relationship with Dustin, stress from everything. You were just the only constant in his life and it seemed like you were the best thing to take it out on.
It doesnât make it right, but at least you understand.
Still, youâre annoyed at the very least.
But you two have made a promise years ago â to never fall asleep mad and with the way exhaustion is clawing at you, youâre ready to climb into bed and apologize for arguing all day. Itâs nothing a few sweet words and a few more sweeter kisses canât fix and the more you think about it, the more you crave it.
Fighting with Steve was one of your least favorite things in the world.
You quickly clean your mess in the bathroom and change for bed but when you step out of the bathroom and into your shared room, you freeze.
Itâs not the darkness or the quietness that stops you. Itâs the fact that Steve is already on his side of the bed, his back turned towards your side and asleep.
That asshole actually fell asleep.
You stand there, five feet away from him, in complete disbelief. It was his stupid idea to promise that and heâs the one who broke it first.
Your newly dissolved anger reignites and this time, itâs scorching. You have to fight the urge to abuse him with your pillow as you look at his sleeping frame. Youâve spent the last few hours trying to think of ways to make up with him and heâs just sleeping.
Your body is tense as you finally climb into bed. You make it a point to leave as much distance between your bodies you can without falling off the bed.
Steve is unmoving as you settle on your side and it angers you even more.
Now itâs not just the arguments from today. Itâs everything.
Itâs the arguing, itâs his careless words from earlier, itâs the coldness youâve been getting from him all day, itâs the short temper heâs met you with.
You feel small and almost like you mean nothing to him. Itâs a stretch considering all he actually did was fall asleep but damnnit, itâs the principle of it all.
Before you know it, tears are slipping from your eyes and soaking the pillow beneath your cheek. You bite your lip to keep the sounds as muffled as possible because the last thing you want is for him to see you cry.
For the first night in your entire relationship, you donât want to be anywhere near him.
Youâre not sure how much time passes when you finally stop crying.
You feel pathetic for it but itâs not out of sadness â because he didnât hurt your feelings (he did) â itâs because youâre just frustrated about the whole thing.
Heâs laid beside you, peaceful and still as he lets his body loosen and forget all its troubles. All the while, youâve been lying here crying.
There hasnât been a second where your frustration has even slightly dwindled. Instead, it keeps building and your exhaustion isnât helping matters.
The sound of Steveâs slow and even breathing behind you is enough to make you break. You donât take a second to rethink things before youâre shoving the blankets off of you and snatching your pillow in one hand.
You trudge into the darkness downstairs and throw your pillow against the couch. You pull the blanket that rests over the back cushion and settle into the couch.
Itâs achingly lonely down here but somehow it feels better than trying to stay beside Steve. You know youâll wake up in an even worse mood because of how uncomfortable the couch is. The cushions are lumpy, itâs almost too short for your body, itâs colder down here without the warmth of Steve comforting you.
Still, you force yourself comfortable and take another chance at sleep.
Upstairs, Steveâs subconscious has him flipping over in his sleep and his arms instinctively reach out for you. His hand slides across your side of the bed, ready to grab your waist and pull you into his chest but he feels nothing.
His eyes flutter open at the feeling of emptiness beneath his palm. It takes him a few seconds to adjust to the darkness of the room but when he finally does, he sees your side of the bed is empty and cold.
He leans up on his elbow then, taking a quick glance at the bathroom but the light is off and the door is shut. He scans the rest of the room but is met with nothing. It doesnât really register for him until he realizes your pillow is also gone.
He feels his stomach twist with nerves before he pulls himself out of bed.
His feet pad against the hardwood floor of your shared home as he makes his way out of the bedroom. The rest of the house is quiet and dark â he almost worries you left entirely.
He makes his way down the steps, into the living room and thatâs when he finally sees you.
Steve feels guilt hit him like a truck when he sees your small frame squished uncomfortably on the couch. Youâre lying on your side, knees curled into your chest and a small throw blanket covering your body.
He hates seeing you like this and even more, he hates being the cause of it. He knows without a doubt itâs his fault. He knew what he said earlier was cruel and completely uncalled for â and he didnât blame you for a second when you chose not to talk to him over the radio.
When he got back and saw how angry you still were, he felt like the best thing to do was give you space. Heâd been blowing up over the tiniest things all day, the least he could do was give you time to yourself.
So when he climbed into bed, it wasnât to break his promise â it actually wasnât even on his mind. He just didnât want to overwhelm or upset you even more.
Obviously that was the wrong choice.
His feet pull him towards you and he bends down so he can lift you up. He carefully pulls the blanket from you and slides one arm beneath your neck. Heâs ready to slide the other under your knees when you begin to stir.
Your head turns, lashes fluttering against the skin of your cheeks as you try to focus on what woke you up. Thereâs a softness in your eyes, one personally reserved for your boyfriend and he feels his heart ache at the sight.
But just as fast as it appeared, itâs gone when you blink.
You pull away from his hold and Steve lets his arms fall to his sides.
âWhat?â Sleepiness laces your voice but he picks up on the anger beneath it.
He swallows and kneels beside the couch so heâs eye level with you. âCome back to bed,â He whispers.
âIâm comfortable here,â You lie easily. Your hands grab the blanket at your feet and pull it back up to cover yourself, just before you shift to turn away from him.
Steve stares at the back of your head for a moment, immediately missing the sight of your beautiful face.
âBaby..â He sighs. Heâs ready to argue more but you cut him off.
âI donât want to sleep next to you, Steve.â Your voice is detached and cold.
His heart cracks at your response.
His ego tells him to walk away. To leave you to deal with your temper tantrum and to enjoy the bed to himself.
Heâs never ignored a thought so quickly.
âThen let me sleep on the couch. You go to bed, babe,â He offers softly.
Your anger aimed at him and your exhaustion has you groaning into the air. You twist your head just enough to face him.
âJust forget it, Steve. I want to sleep.â
Steve feels his own stubbornness filter back. âIâm not letting you sleep on the couch.â He says your name firmly â like a parent scolding a child.
You glare at him, your eyes so dark, there may as well be daggers shooing out of them.
âWhy not? You were sleeping so peacefully a few minutes ago. Go back and do it again,â You huff before turning your head to face the cushion again.
Steveâs jaw clenches, not from anger but from more guilt. He never wanted to make you feel like this â like you didnât matter.
Carefully, he moves to sit on the couch with you. You grumble something like go away but he ignores it. He brings his hand up to cup your cheek, and you try to pull away but his hold is firm.
âIâm sorry, baby,â He whispers, his thumb stroking over the apple of your cheeks. Itâs a little damp and sticky from your earlier tears you didnât even bother to wipe away. He watches the way you avoid his gaze and the way your jaw ticks. âI shouldnât have spent all day arguing with you, and I definitely shouldnât have spoken to you like that. I was pissed off about these crawls and the way Hendersonâs been acting lately and I took it out on you,â His voice is so soft and gentle â itâs a dangerous contrast to how he spoke earlier. âYou didnât deserve that, baby and Iâm sorry.â
Your eyes gloss over again at his apology and you can slowly feel your resolve break. Youâre so tired and all you want is to wrap yourself in his arms again.
But youâre still pissed.
âIâm not your punching bag, Steve.â You say firmly. Thereâs a hint of a waver in your tone but he doesnât catch it. He nods, his eyes sad and regretful.
âI know youâre not,â
âAnd you donât get to take it out on me every time youâre pissed off.â
He nods again. âI wonât, I promise.â
Your eyes narrow, but itâs not as angry this time. âAnd youâre not allowed to go to bed without me again.â
Steve breaks a smile at your words but quickly tries to cover it, worried youâre not ready to joke with him again. It technically was meant to be lighthearted but the sentiment was serious.
âIâll stay awake forever if you asked me too, baby,â He responds, his hand gently stroking your skin.
You roll your eyes at his theatrics, but he doesnât miss the ghost of a smile on your lips.
He leans down, pressing his lips to yours in a tender kiss. He doesnât try to deepen it â just lets you both feel the other close and intimate. When he pulls away, he leans his forehead against yours. âI really am sorry, baby.â He whispers.
You nod gently. âI know,â You bring your own palm up to his cheek this time and he plants a kiss to your palm before letting himself lean onto your hold.
Itâs quiet for a few seconds as you hold each other before you speak up.
âCan you carry me to bed now?â You breathe out, a smile plastered across your face. Steve grins down at you and within seconds, youâre in his arms bridal style. You gasp in surprise from his swiftness and heâs easily carrying you up the stairs.
He plants kisses across the skin of your face the entire way back to bed and once youâre finally settled in, he doesnât let you go for a second.
love island! steve harrington x love island! female reader
warnings: 18+ smut: dry humping, some early morning sex, unprotected p in v, dirty talk, praise kink, cream pie. almost getting caught.
summary: after the bombshell chooses to couple up with steve, you both choose to sleep in soul ties together.
wc: 2.2k
A/N: HOPE U ENJOY !! AND THANK U FOR 400 FOLLOWERS!!! was actually inspired today to finally write this. also letâs pretend y/n is on birth control and canât get pregnant on the islandđ btw REQUESTS ARE OPEN!!! please send me anything you guys want and if i like it, i will write it. it can be for love island steve, or just any ideas you guys have. im currently writing someoneâs request and im having sm fun with it. anyways thank you guys for all the support!
to be added to my taglists click here
others parts here â
the bombshell
the hideaway
"Can we talk?" Steve asks you.
Your worst nightmare came true. Just a few minutes ago at the fire pit, Molly chose Steve to couple up with, leaving you no choice but to pick Jake to save.
You nod, and both walk over to the dock and sit for a few moments in silence.
You're not mad at him, you're just confused about why she chose him.
"I don't know why she chose me, Y/N. I really don't." He finally says.
"Did you actually set those boundaries, or did you just say that?" You didn't want to accuse him of lying, but you just wanted answers.
"I did, baby, I promise you. Countless times. I'm just as confused as you are." He feels helpless.
Silence overcomes you both once again. Then you remember they have to share a bed tonight.
"I can't be in a room with you sleeping with another girl, I just can't, Steve. I'm going to sleep in Soul Ties tonight." A tear runs down your face.
"You think I'm going to sleep with her?" He looks at you and wipes that tear right off your cheek. "I'll be right beside you, baby. You're not going to be alone." A small smile takes over your face.
Steve tells you to go get ready for bed and meet him in soul ties once you're done. He got done pretty quickly, so he made the bed all nice and comfy for both of you.
You explained to Jake that he'd be sleeping alone and that you would be outside with Steve. On the other hand, Steve didn't tell Molly a thing. He didn't think she deserved to know. For all he cares, she can sleep in a cold bed by herself.
You make your way up to soul ties and notice Steve has set it up perfectly. The comforter and pillows all around, and a small bouquet of flowers that he may or may not have taken from the fake plants around the villa.
"Steve, this is really sweet." You say before getting under the covers next to him. He wraps his arm around you, pulling you into his body. Your cheek is pressed against his naked chest.
âI hope itâs comfortable, cause I think this is where weâll be sleeping until thereâs a re-coupling, babe.â He laughs.
âAs long as Iâm with you, Iâm happy.â You tell him and kiss his bare skin before shutting your eyes.
You wake up from the bright Fiji sun and reach towards your phone to check the time.
7:08 a.m.
The villa doesnât wake up until 8 a.m., so you put your phone back down and take in the quiet throughout the villa.
Steve is spooning you from behind, both arms wrapped around your hips, holding you close to him.
Your back is against his chest, so you go to move to face him, but his arms hold you down in his sleep.
Thatâs when you feel it. Steveâs hard cock is right up against your ass.
Sure, in bed youâve messed around a bit, Steveâs hands sneaking into your panties before bed, but you guys have yet to actually have sex.
Thereâs just no privacy when youâre sleeping in a room with five other couples.
But right now? You guys basically had the whole villa to yourselves. No one would be up for another hour.
So you decide to tease him a bit, to see if it would lead to anything. Sleeping next to a sexy man for two weeks will make you horny.
You push your ass harder against his hips and slowly start to grind yourself up against him.
From his breathing and slight movements, you can tell he is slowly coming out of his sleep.
You feel his hips starting to match your rhythm, and his grip on your hips starts to get stronger, holding you down.
âMhmm.â He moans. âFuck, baby, good morning to me.â He whispers into your ear before placing a kiss on your neck. âWhat time is it?â
You giggle, âSeven, they wonât be up for another hour.â
âYou say that like youâre insinuating something.â He lies on his back before pulling you to straddle his hips.
âMaybe I am,â You say as you start to rock your hips back and forth on top of him. Just boxers, and your panties separating the two of you.
You thank yourself for choosing a slip dress as your choice of pajamas last night.
His hands sneak underneath the silk of your dress, spreading across your ass cheeks as you grind on him.
âFuck,â You breathe out, his tip hitting your sensitive clit every time. âFeels so good.â
Your eyes shut and you moan out into the silent villa at the pleasurable feeling shooting through your body.
âYeah, baby, rub your pussy on me. Keep going.â He encourages you.
Your orgasm starts to build, so you pick up your pace to reach your end.
His hands help guide you as you start to get tired.
âOh my god, Iâm gonna come.â You whine. With just a couple more seconds of grinding, your orgasm hits you hard, and you're coming in your panties. âShit!â Your body collapses on top of his.
âThatâs it, baby.â His hands come up and rub your back, as the aftershocks still have you out of breath.
You sit back up and realize Steve is still hard underneath you. Itâs quite perfect actually because you didnât want to stop.
âI want you, Steve.â He canât believe what you just said.
His eyes get wide. âAre you sure?â
He was a bit scared, knowing that the other couples could wake up at any point and come out here to the two of you fucking.
âYes, Steve. Do you want me?â You ask. Maybe he wasnât ready for this. Maybe he thought it was too fast. You start to get insecure and embarrassed for even asking about this on week two, but your overthinking is quickly shut down by Steve.
âOf course, I want you, fuck, I always want you, Y/N.â
Itâs like music to your ears, hearing Steve say that. Both of your lips collide, tongues in each otherâs mouths. Itâs hot and steamy. And it only makes you hornier.
âCan I take these off, baby?â He asks, playing with the band of your lace underwear. You nod, and his hands slide them down. You help him with getting them off, leaving you bare under your dress while straddling his hips.
He hikes your dress up, his eyes meeting your wet pussy hovering above his clothed cock. He wastes no time in lifting his hips to get rid of the last layer of clothing that separates the two of you.
Steve lies beneath you, completely naked. You both decide itâs better to keep your dress on, in case anyone were to come up here.
It pains Steve a bit because he is such a boob guy, but he knows one day heâll be able to really worship them.
Steve pulls your face to his and kisses you once more. Itâs only when Steve pulls your center against his that you realize you were still hovering over him.
âOh, my god.â You say, breaking apart from the kiss at the feeling of your bare pussy finally on top of his cock.
You both look down between each other.
âFuck,â Steve moans at the view below him. You start to grind yourself again over him, this time with nothing separating you. Your wetness coats his length. âHoly shit, Y/N. I need to be inside you.â
Heat rushes straight to your pussy at his words. You hover above him and take his leaking cock into your hand.
You spit down on his tip and pump him a few times. Steve throws his head back at the feeling of your fingers around him.
Your hand guides him to your entrance, but he stops you before heâs inside you. âSlap your clit a couple times.â You do as he says, slapping his tip on your clit, and you moan out. âOh, fuck, thatâs so hot.â
He canât wait any longer, so he takes his cock in his hand and lines himself up before pulling you down on his length.
âShit, Steve!â Heâs big, super big. You feel all of him, being sucked right into your pussy. It hurts at first, but turns into sweet pleasure.
âSuch a tight pussy.â He moans while you start to move up and down on his cock.
He meets your pace by thrusting up into you. Itâs not too fast, but not too slow.
âI love the way you feel inside of me, Steve,â You moan, and lean down to place kisses up his neck as he fucks into you.
All Steve can do is moan and whisper curses into your ear, your pussy having him in a complete chokehold.
His hips start to slam into you. Itâs a sign that heâs close. âFuck, baby, play with your pussy for me.â He tells you.
You sit up and scrunch your dress up, so Steve can see exactly what youâre doing.
His eyes watch your fingers as they go where heâs fucking up into you. Your ring and middle finger make contact with your clit, and start moving in a circular motion.
The feeling of his cock inside of you, and your clit getting stimulated, has you squeezing around his cock.
âIâm close, baby. Where do you want me?â Steve asks. His eyebrows are scrunched from the pleasure, and him nearing his long-awaited orgasm.
âInside, please.â You cry.
Youâre both about to come when you hear the sound of a door opening from downstairs.
You both freeze as you check the time on your phone, with Steve slowly pumping into you. 8:04 a.m. You show the time to Steve, but he picks up his thrusts again.
âQuiet.â He whispers as he positions you both on your sides, blanket covering you both, backs towards the stairs where people will eventually come up from.
He starts pounding into you, while his hand comes to your clit, determined to get you both to reach your ends.
You quietly whine at the pleasure coming back to you at full force.
âCome for me, baby.â He whispers into your ear, and itâs all it took.
Heâs right behind you, spilling straight into your pussy. You both moan as quietly as you can, knowing the others are right below you.
Steve bites down on your shoulder, in an attempt to stay quiet as your pussy milks his cock dry.
You both feel out of it as the aftershocks take over, when you hear sounds of footsteps coming from the stairs.
âY/N? Steve? You guys up?â You hear Jake call out as he makes his way up the stairs.
Steve and you both have the same idea to pretend to be asleep still. You didnât feel like having a conversation with someone when his cock and come was still inside of you.
âI think theyâre still asleep; letâs leave them be!â You hear Amber say. âThey had a long night.â Their footsteps go right back downstairs.
You want to laugh because you guys didnât have a long night. You both went to bed at lights out, woke up early, and had morning sex.
Once Steve knew they were gone, he pulled out of you.
âFuck, baby, that was a close one,â He says before looking for your panties and slipping them back up your legs. He does the same with his boxers.
You feel his come starting to leak out of you. âI think I need to run to the bathroom; we have nothing to clean up with.â You tell him.
He laughs, âAre you sure you donât want everyone to see what we did?â
You playfully roll your eyes before kissing him and getting up to head to the bathroom. You run past the kitchen, explaining you have to pee really badly to the boys making breakfast. They didnât ask any questions.
Once in the bathroom, you decide itâs best to shower the smell of sex off you. Youâre gathering your stuff in the bedroom when Molly walks in.
You and Steve had been in your own little world this morning, so much so that you forgot that she was the reason why you both were in soul ties in the first place.
Molly looks at you, and you continue to get your things just so you can get out of this room.
âHe shouldâve been in bed with me last night.â She says.
You look at her. Is she really this confident that Steve is going to want her after what she did to him last night?
âWell, he wasnât.â You normally are never confrontational, but something about Molly brings this part out of you.
âHe doesnât like you; I can tell. Itâs all fake.â
You get the last thing you needed and walk to stand right in front of her.
âHmm, thatâs weird. Thatâs not what he was telling me this morning while he was fucking me in soul ties.â You say and walk past her right into the shower room.
Molly stands in the middle of the room, speechless.
â summary: you and steve were tangled in each otherâs lives from birth, sharing scraped knees, midnight secrets, and every promise two kids could make without understanding the weight of them. as years passed, the two of you shifted with every change the years threw at you, and time kept moving the way it always does. fast and unrelenting. you could only push down the inevitable for so long before you realized all you've ever wanted has been right in front of you, all along.Â
â pairing: steve harrington x reader, slight omc x readerÂ
â warnings: 18+ mdni, smut, cursing, canon character death, slow burn, childhood friends to lovers, angst, emotional cheating, p in v, oral f recieving
â word count: 16.2kÂ
â notes: this is an au where nothing supernatural happens in hawkins btw!!! i've spent soo long on this that i kinda hate it but i really hope you all enjoy! i appreciate the feedback so much <3
You had never known a life without Steve Harrington in it. From the moment you were walking, he was standing there right beside you. Your mothers were friends, often leaving you two with the same sitters. With matching sticky hands and loud babbles of nothing, you found a friend in the messy-haired boy.
 Steve was there through all of lifeâs biggest moments. The first time you rode your bike without training wheels, losing your first baby tooth, and your first heartbreak in the fourth grade, when Adam Kelly put gum in your hair. Steve pushed him off the slide, splitting his lip open. He thought the punishment was worth it to see the smile on your face.Â
Similarly, you were there through his horrible prepubescent hormones, his growth spurt hitting later in life. You tripped Christy Morris after she called him short, embarrassing him in front of the class. Her accident overshadowed his embarrassment when she went crying to the office, chocolate milk staining the front of her white dress. Steveâs eyes met yours across the lunchroom, and you sent him a simple shrug. It was mindless, the urge to protect him. It went both ways. It was soon clear to everyone in Hawkins that the two of you would do anything for the other.
Steve held your hand when your dog died, letting you sob into his shoulders. He came to your house the next day, a bundle of picked dandelions in his hand. It was the first time a boy brought you flowers; he told you that you deserved them every day since it made you smile. And you believed him. When his parents got a new job, leaving him at your house or with strange relatives, heâd hide his face in your pillow, pretending tears werenât racking his body. Youâd run your tiny hands through his hair, and once he was done, youâd force him to watch movies with you. Making him laugh so hard that he no longer felt the absence of his parents. He would never be abandoned, because youâd never leave him.Â
The summer before high school, the two of you made a pact. Bound in the blood of scraped knees and years of friendship.Â
âWeâre gonna be friends forever, you know that, right?â Steve asked, both of your backs pressed against the hot fabric of the trampoline. His hair was getting longer, his voice already deeper.Â
You had changed, too, your body developing in ways that made boys in school look at you longer. You started caring more about your appearance, making Steve call you gross every time youâd put on lip gloss. In the same way, youâd smack him with the hairspray can he stole from you.Â
âOf course I know that,â You said, âWhy?âÂ
He huffed, throwing his arm over his forehead in an attempt to quell the Indiana heat. âHigh school is just scary. What if we make new friends?âÂ
You shrugged, not really thinking too much about it. âWe both have other friends already.âÂ
âBut none of them are like you.â He said the meaning of his words wouldnât come to him until much later.Â
âI know.â You smirked, kicking his shin with your foot. âEven when the world changes, our friends, school, and even when we change as people. It wonât matter because our friendship never will. Weâre unchangeable.âÂ
He laughed at your word choices, pushing your foot away from his playfully. âGrowing up is scary.â He admitted after a brief moment of silence.Â
You hummed in agreement, reaching your hand down to grab his. Lacing your fingers together as if youâve done it a thousand times, because you have.Â
âYou make it not so scary.â You smiled, the two of you staring at the clouds.Â
âPinky promise?â Steve asked, his voice betraying him. You just smiled, bringing up your other hand that wasnât in his, holding out your pinky. He did the same, lacing your two pinkies together in an unspoken vow.Â
Time is a fickle thing. Nothing ever happens as you plan it; itâs the only consistency in the world. When the two of you stepped foot into Hawkinâs High, it was inevitable that things would change. He made the basketball team, coming over to your house with his jersey in hand. Jumping up and down, swearing you needed to join the Cheerleading team. You smacked him upside the head for even entertaining the idea. He made fun of you for joining the library club, a realization coming over you two that your High School experiences were heading into different directions. You promised to go to each of his games, and he said he would read one book a year for you. A compromise of sorts.Â
At his first basketball game, Trina Robbins kissed him courtside, her pom poms shaking wildly at her sides. It was the first time you saw him as a man, not just the little boy whoâd help you catch fireflies in the backyard. You ran to him after the game, arms slinging around his shoulders in congratulations. He spun you around, his joyful laugh ringing in your ears.Â
âIâm so proud of you!â You gawked, his arms still wrapped around you. It wasnât until you heard a loud cough from behind you. Trina and her friends were standing behind you, evil smirks on their faces.Â
âY/n! This is my girlfriend Trina.â He smiled widely, his arm leaving your body quickly. He walked over to her, his arm slinging across her shoulders. âBabe, this is my friend I grew up with.âÂ
Her perfectly sculpted eyebrow arched, âOh? Steve didnât mention you.âÂ
You hoped the sound of the rowdy gymnasium covered the sound of your heart shattering. He didnât even tell you he had a crush, let alone a girlfriend. Then he didnât mention you at all. You knew Steve, your Stevie, would never do this. You brushed it off, a hopeless, dumb teenage boy in love. It was fine.Â
You braved it with a smile, ignoring their judgmental glares that Steve seemed oblivious to. âWell, nice to meet you, Trina. You did great.âÂ
âI know.â She smirked, pulling Steve away. âCome on, I want ice cream.â And he was dragging her out the door.Â
He turned back, waving at you. âIâll see you around!âÂ
You sent him a wave back, riding your bike home in pitiful silence. Absent was the sound of his bike pedaling next to yours, his incessant complaining about assignments and practice.Â
It was just a simple interaction, one you tried not to dwell on. But little did you know it would be the first crack in the glass. Your interaction with Steve at school was becoming little to none as the weeks passed. Trina was glued to his hip, and when she wasnât, his mean older teammates were. You still saw him some weekends, helping him study for his English tests. Inevitably, doing the assignments for him. He was still the same Steve you knew and loved, but something was different.Â
He no longer reached for your hand as much as he used to, and there were no more hugs goodbye. You knew this would happen when the two of you started dating, but soon the phone calls stopped. The weekend hangouts in his parents' basement were replaced with him going to parties. He no longer rode with you to school, biking halfway across town to let Trina ride on his pegs. You passed each other in the hallways, soft smiles and waves were all you got for the majority of the year.Â
It was the week before Summer break, and you were excited. You and your friends had planned a slumber party, painting nails, hair rollers in, and the stereo in your room blaring your newest cassettes. Preparing your future Summer plans. Celebrating the end of finals, gossiping about going into your sophomore year. You were flipping through a magazine, ready to point out a pair of shoes, when there was a loud tapping at your window.Â
The girls jumped, eyes wide at the sight of none other than Steve. His arms were clinging to the ledge, tapping on the glass. It feels like it has been ages since youâve spoken to him, let alone seeing him, ready to climb into your room.Â
âWhat the hell?â Imogen yelled, her hand cradling her chest.Â
You rolled your eyes, ripping open the window. âWhat are you doing?âÂ
âI just wanted to-oh oh, hi ladies.â He paused, looking past you to wave flirtatiously at your friends.Â
Your fingers flicked his forehead, âOut with it.âÂ
âMom wants you over Sunday night for dinner. Said itâs been too long. Still thinks she loves you more than me. Also, just wanted to see you.â He cheesed, to which you pretended it didnât make your heart pound.Â
âOkay. You could've called.âÂ
âCanât see your annoyed face through the phone.âÂ
You glared at him, making him cower. âOkay, okay. See you Sunday!â Then he was off, his feet hitting the ground with a thud. You lay back down on the floor, content to skim through he magazine once again. Trying to calm the thud of your heart. But your friends were not letting it go.Â
âYou have the Steve Harrington sneaking through your window?â Jessica gawked, running and watching where he ran back to his bike.Â
âHeâs my best friend.â You laughed nervously, watching her and Imogen stare at each other. An all-knowing look in their eyes. âHe couldâve used the front door; he probably just wanted to show off.âÂ
âDoes that happen often?â Jessica asked, her line of questioning not done.Â
âNot as much as it used it. Sometimes Iâll go to his, but Iâll use the front door like a normal person. â You shrugged mindlessly, âHis bed is comfier anyway.âÂ
What you thought was an innocent moment turned out to be anything but. When you walked into school the last day, you were met with too many eyes on you. From the moment you walked to your locker, the whispers were evident. Your palms were sweaty as you stumbled, unlocking the combination lock.Â
âY/n.â Imogen rushed towards you, out of breath from seemingly running to you. âIâm so sorry. I told Jessica not to say anything, but she really wants to be on the cheer squad next year-âÂ
âWhat?â You sputtered, âSay what?âÂ
Before Imogen could spit it out, the school doors slammed open. Everyoneâs eyes are on you. There stood Trina, complete with her group of friends. Her face was red, anger evident. You had zero idea what was happening, assuming Steve broke her heart and she was coming to take it out on you.Â
âHey, you whore.â Trina spat, getting in your face within seconds. Your back pressed against your lock, eyebrows raised. Imogen had run off, muttering something about being back. You were left alone, nothing but a pissed off squad of cheerleaders at your neck, with half the school watching. You felt like you were in a bad 70s movie, living out your worst nightmare.Â
âWhatâs your fucking problem?â You asked, fingers clutching your stack of books like your life depended on it.Â
âI knew from the moment Steve introduced us that youâd be a problem. With your pathetic âpoor meâ face. You just couldnât accept that he wanted me, huh?â She spoke, your mind still reeling.Â
âI literally have no clue what youâre talking about.â You tried to push past her, her friends pushing you back roughly into the lockers. Your books going flying from your hands.Â
âWeâre talking about you fucking my boyfriend.â She spoke slowly, âI heard that you guys crawl into each other's windows and you spread your legs for him.âÂ
Jessica. That fucking bitch Jessica. Your heart ached; you thought she was your friend. She knew nothing was happening between you two.Â
âI never fucked Steve.â A blush crept up your neck at your words, âHeâs just my best friend. Iâve known him since I was in diapers.âÂ
âBullshit. You can lie to me, but she saw him literally hanging from your window.âÂ
You didnât know where the bravery came from, clinging to your pride as much as you could. âYou know, Trina, I know no one ever wants to be around you unless youâre putting out, but thereâs this thing called friends-âÂ
Her hand backhanded your cheek before you could finish, the sting making your eyes water. On instinct, you raised your hand back, unable to get anything in before one of her friends kicked you in the shin. The otherâs joining in. Pain bloomed through your body as you fought back, getting outnumbered within seconds. It was a blur; in seconds, they were on you, only stopping when they heard a yell down the hallway.Â
Imogen was running back, Steve in tow. He was in his gym clothes, his eyes wild.Â
âGet the hell off her.â He barked, his arm coming up to pull Trinaâs shoulder back. âWhat the hell is your problem?âÂ
Her other friends scattered, leaving you slumped on your feet. Arm cradling your stomach, which was bound to be covered in bruises. You couldnât meet his eyes, but you felt his worried gaze on you.Â
âWhatâs my problem? My problem is you. Cheating on me with this loser?â She screamed, getting the attention of teachers who slowly poured into the hall.Â
âY/n? Nothing happened. God, sheâs like my sister.â It wasnât the first time the comparison had been made, but it was the first time Steve had said it. He didnât like the way the words shaped in his mouth, his throat going dry before he spoke back up again. âY/n is my best friend. I told you that.âÂ
He pushed her aside, dropping to his knees to look over you. He cupped your chin, forcing you to look up at him. Unshed tears were heavy in your eyes, blinking them away when he checked you over for injuries.Â
âAre you okay?â He whispered, helping you stand upright. You didnât answer, keeping your gaze on the floor. Willing yourself to wake up from this nightmare.Â
âSteve, Iâm sorry.â Trina whimpered, watching her social status flash before her eyes. Steve pushed you behind his back, his eyes wild with fury, while looking at her.Â
âYou know what, Trina. I donât think you have the right to call anyone a whore, considering you put out on our first date.â Steveâs words were cruel, an ice to them youâve never heard before. âYou can go to hell. If you ever come near her again, you or your bitchy friends. I will ruin your life. Understood?âÂ
He was met with silence, tears falling down her cheeks. Little did Hawkins know this was the start of the infamous King Steve.Â
âMatter of fact, if anyone has issues with her, they come to me.â He yelled, right before the teachers swarmed in, grabbing Trina by the arm.Â
Steve held your hand in silence to the nurseâs office, his eyes squeezing shut when you showed the nurse your reddened skin.Â
âItâll probably bruise, nothing bad enough to go to the hospital for.â She said, snapping her gloves off. âIâm gonna have the office call your parents up here.âÂ
All you could do was nod, picking at the skin around your nails harshly.Â
âY/nâŚâ Steve whispered, his hand finding yours. You let him lace your fingers together tightly. It had been so long since you held his hand, but it still fit perfectly in yours. âIâm so sorry.âÂ
You shook your head, âSâmy fault. I made a joke to Jessica about how your bed is comfier than mine. I didnât think sheâd take it wrong, definitely didnât think sheâd tell half the school about it.âÂ
âNo, no. Itâs not your fault. I havenât been the best of a friend lately.â He admitted, letting his thumb rub over the top of your hand. âCanât believe I let a stupid girl get in between us.âÂ
His pained laugh made you roll your eyes, âDonât care if you get a girlfriend, Stevie. Just want you to still talk to me.â
âI promise. God, I promise itâll never happen again.â He laughed shakily, pressing soft kisses to your hand.Â
Things had still changed, changed so much sometimes it seemed like you were lifetimes apart from the two kids that sat hand in hand on that trampoline. But youâd accept any change, as long as he was still in your life. Without him, there was a hole in the shape of him, lodged in the middle of your chest. You felt the hole close, each moment Steve grinned at you. Promising to take you out for ice cream as soon as your parents show up.Â
Sophomore year rolled by so quickly, you wished you could have grabbed time, and begged her to slow down. Steve had grown a new reputation in school. King Steve, they called him, claiming him the royalty of Hawkins High. Little did they know the king of Hawkins made you blow-dry and hairspray his hair every morning. His girlfriends, or trysts as you liked to call them, all knew you. Whispers of the Trina incident followed every relationship of his; he just smiled and told them youâd always be more important than them. They either accepted it or they didnât.Â
Dating for you didnât come nearly as easily; most of the boys at school were so scared of Steve they steered clear of you with a ten-foot pole. It only got worse when he began hanging out with Carol and Tommy G. You hated them, despised how they fed into Steveâs ever-growing ego. They were kind to you, most of the time. It was clear they tolerated you only.Â
Every time Steve would grab you by the shoulders, pulling you into a hug in the hall, theyâd groan.Â
âGotta hug my girl.â Heâd shrug, kissing your forehead goodbye before going off to class. Imogen would just roll her eyes, swearing up and down that the two of you just needed to start dating. Youâd cringe, shaking her off. He was just your best friend youâd tell her. When sheâd swear her and her best friend didnât act like that, all you could do was shrug. âThatâs just me and Steve.âÂ
You didnât have your first official boyfriend until the summer before Junior year, and Steve hated him. Hated him for reasons you were still unclear about. He was on the debate team, the most innocent, nerdiest of boys who had captured your heart. So when he broke your heart three weeks into the year, Steve had held you in his arms as you sobbed, brushing your hair down, swearing heâd kill him.Â
âI really will, I promise. Iâll use the beamer. Catch him on a foggy night and just boom,â Steve spoke, making your chest rattle with laughter. âBlood and guts everywhere.âÂ
âIt would ruin your nice and shiny car.â You pouted through your tears. For his 16th birthday, Steveâs dad had presented him with the infamous burgundy BMW. Heâd almost spun the tires out pulling into your driveway. That night, the two of you went through a whole tank of gas, driving everywhere around town. You couldnât imagine your ex-boyfriend's murder ruining that car.Â
âWould be worth it to see you smile.â He said, watching your puffy cheeks as you sat up.Â
âHe was such a dickhead.â You frowned, rubbing your tired eyes. âI really thought what we had over the summer was good. Then he sees Rebecca in chemistry and thinks sheâd be a better lay than me.âÂ
Steveâs brows furrowed, âDid he say that?âÂ
âIt was implied.â You grumbled, fumbling with a loose thread from his shirt. âCanât believe I lost my virginity to someone who asked if he was going to put it in the wrong hole.âÂ
A loud laugh tore from his chest, âWait, what?âÂ
âHe wanted to make sure, and I quote: âIs it in your vagina or your pee hole?â You burst out laughing, rubbing your face.Â
The two of you laughed until your chests hurt, Steve going on and on. âDude, poor fucking Rebecca,âÂ
âPoor Rebecca.â You wheezed, taking a deep breath in. It was good to laugh. It was good to be in Steveâs arms, the two of you lazily lounging in his bed.Â
âHey,â Steve spoke up, âDo you wanna order pizza and disgrace his yearbook picture?âÂ
You scoffed, âIâm offended youâd even ask Stevie.âÂ
The two of you did just that, you ended up falling asleep on his bed. The two of you waking up in a tangled mess of arms. His body pressed against yours. In an awkward shuffle, you pulled away, and he nearly flung off the bed. Stuttering that he had to go to the bathroom, the door slammed shut. All you could do was laugh.Â
He drove you to school that morning, and you walked alongside. When you passed by Nancy Wheeler and her friend, Barb, Steve paused, sending a flirty wave her way. Your eyes squinted, waiting to speak until you got to his locker.Â
âNancy Wheeler, huh?â You asked, ignoring the blush creeping up on his face.Â
âWeâve just been talking a little.â He admitted, rubbing the back of his neck. You hadnât seen him this flustered before. Not over a girl. You ignored the weird sinking feeling in your stomach, smiling teasingly at him.Â
âOh, so someone has a crush.â You sang, making him shush you. Looking around, like everyone would hear.Â
âJust because my love life failed this year doesn't mean yours has to; ask her out.â You encouraged him, closing his locker for him.Â
He gave you a sympathetic look, patting your cheek gently. âJust because that loser broke your heart doesn't mean you canât try again. Now I donât think any men in this town deserve you, but I do want you happy.âÂ
You nodded against his hand, mourning the loss of warmth when he pulled away.Â
âGo get him, tiger.â You smirked, watching him run down the hallway.Â
It was no surprise you were once again regretting your words a few weeks later, doing your best to avoid where Steve had his tongue shoved down Nancyâs throat in the middle of the hallway.Â
âTheyâre disgusting.â Barb had spoken; you didnât know the girl well, but as Nancy joined your orbit, she had followed.Â
âSometimes I wonder if she ever gets tired of him slobbering all over her face.â You said, causing Barb to giggle.Â
âHey, you and Sam arenât much better. Staring longingly at each other in homeroom.â She teased, making you roll your eyes. Sam was your friend, just a friend. There had been a few moments you thought something more could bloom between the two of you, but you shrugged it off. Unsure if you wanted to deal with another inescapable heartbreak.Â
âY/n! Barb.â Nancy stuttered, just now realising the two of you were standing next to her. Her face was flustered, and Steve stood there unbothered as usual. âWhat are you talking about?âÂ
âHow Y/n needs to woman up and ask Sam out,â Barb said.Â
âNo, donât ever ask a man out. Thatâs the man's job.â Steve shook his head, pulling Nancy to his chest.Â
âI think if she wants to ask him out, thatâs fine. Cute even. I have art with Sam, heâs really sweet.â Nancy smiled, staring nervously at you. You were friendly with Nancy, but the two of you didnât have much in common, it felt like sometimes. Steve went on and on about how Nancy thought you hated her.Â
âIâm not asking anyone out, but thank you, Nancy.â You sighed, your head hitting the locker. âIâm just gonna die alone.âÂ
âLittle Y/n not able to get laid?â Tommyâs shrill voice ruined the moment the four of you were having.Â
âThatâs not what your dad said last night.â You squinted your eyes at him, Carol responding with a sarcastic laugh.Â
âYou kiss Steveâs ass with that mouth?â He asked, making Nancy tense. You didnât miss it, Steve did.Â
âHe has this running joke that I feed Steveâs ego blindly, thatâs why weâre friends. Tommy finds friendship as this impossible-to-grasp concept. One could only wonder why.â You told her with a smile, âHe also thinks heâs much funnier than he actually is.âÂ
âHey, cut it out. God, you two fight like animals.â Steve sighed, âWhile weâre all here. My house. Tonight. Parents are gone.âÂ
âItâs Tuesday.â You deadpanned, not ready to get roped into another one of the Harringtons' infamous get-togethers.Â
âItâs Tuesday.â Tommy mocked, grunting when Steve elbowed him in the stomach.Â
âA party?â Nancy asked, her innocent face looking up at Steve.Â
âDing, ding!â Carol laughed, making you roll your eyes.Â
While they broke into conversation about the party, your eyes followed Nancyâs. Watching Jonathan Byers tacking up missing posters for his brother.Â
âOh, God, thatâs depressing.â Carol snickered, and Barb walked away before the conversation got worse. You didnât blame her; every time the couple spoke, it made your skin crawl.Â
âShould we say something?â Nancy asked, eyes full of empathy. You knew her little brother was friends with his.Â
âI donât think he speaks.â
âHow much you want to bet he killed him?â Tommy laughed, your head turning to meet Steve's.Â
You scoffed, âYour friends are fucking assholes. You know that?â And with that, you stormed off, determined to find Sam. You were going to ask him out; you deserved your own happiness. Your own life outside of Steveâs little bubble.Â
-
Your fingers twirled in the phone cord, âY/n, please. Tommy said heâs sorry. Please just come.â Steve begged through the phone. You could hear them snickering in the background. He wanted you at this stupid party; he cleaned his pool out and everything. Even got your favorite wine coolers.Â
âIâm with Sam.â You blurted out, The man you spoke of caught your eye. He was sitting on your bed cross-legged, shirt askew. Maybe you did decide to ask him out and sneak him in through your window.Â
âSo bring him,â Steve said after a brief pause. âBarb is here. If sheâs here, thereâs no reason you canât be. Please.â The begging in his voice made your resolve crumble. Sucking you right back in.Â
About an hour later, you were stalking into Steveâs backyard, hand in hand with Sam. Sam was beautiful. Taller with shaggy hair, you couldnât help but immediately notice how different he looked from Steve. Wondering why your brain forced you to compare the two. There was no time to dwell on that.Â
You introduced him to everyone, making sure to flip Tommy the bird while doing so.Â
âSteve. IÂ heard a lot about you, man.â Sam spoke, holding his hand out for Steve to shake. It took Steve a moment to shake his hand. Probably gripping harder than he needed to.Â
Once that was out of the way, you all found a good rhythm, chatting and drinking cheap beers. You're sipping on your strawberry wine coolers, Carol cringing with each sip of beer.Â
âNo fair, why did she get nice drinks?â She whined.Â
âBecause she doesnât drink beer. Theyâre her favorite.â Steve laughed, a billow of cigarette smoke falling out of his mouth.Â
You couldnât help the smirk that graced your lips, leaning back into Samâs chest. As much as they loved King Steve, none of them knew him the way you did. He knew you like it was the easiest thing in the world, while Tommy and Carol barely scratched the surface. They knew it too. Nancy was different; you knew she really cared for Steve. You just worried heâd break her heart; you warned him if he did, heâd never hear the end of it. She was different from the other girls.Â
âItâs different this time, Y/n.â He swore, flicking his pencil on the library table.Â
âWhat, like you love her?â You asked.Â
He paused, thinking for a moment. âI think so. Not as much as I love you, and not in the same way. â He hummed.Â
âAww, wait, so youâre really falling in love with her?â You cooed, âWhat happened to King Steve?âÂ
âOh shut up.â He grumbled, right before the two of you were shushed by library goers.Â
When your brain came back into focus, they were shotgunning beers, your eyes rolling at the dick measuring contest Steve and Tommy were perpetually in. You looked back at Barb, forcing her to join you and Samâs little group.Â
âWhen theyâre around women, they turn into animals. Everything is a contest.â You said, making the first smile appear on her face this night.Â
âSam, you donât wanna join?â She asked, making his chest rumble in laughter.Â
âI donât think I need to chug a beer to impress Y/n. Sheâd probably call me a meathead.âÂ
âYou know me so well.â You smiled, pressing a soft kiss to his lips.Â
A large splash made you gasp, watching Carol come up from the pool. Tommy was standing there with a smirk on his face.Â
âWhat the hell, Tommy?â She shrieked, him jumping in beside her. It was then Steveâs turn to copy him, throwing Nancy and himself in the deep end.Â
âI broke my arm in this pool when I was 6. Donât get any ideas.â You told Sam.Â
âSo youâve known Steve a while, huh?â He asked, watching the couples play about in the water.Â
âSince we were babies. We grew up together.âÂ
âYou guys couldnât be more different.â He said it was an innocent comment. But it made you feel weird, frowning slightly.Â
âI guess Iâm a little boring. A lot nicer to look at, though.âÂ
âDisagree with the first part, but agree to the last.â He said, nuzzling his head in your neck.Â
âHey, lovebirds,â Steve yelled, ruining the moment by splashing water at you two, âGet in.âÂ
You shook your head, âIâm not ruining my shirt.âÂ
âSo take it off.â Tommy whistled. Carol smacking him upside the head.Â
âDidnât know you wanted to see me shirtless that bad.â You teased back, Samâs arm draping across your chest.Â
âI think everyone would enjoy the show, some more than others.â He whistled, Steveâs eyes shooting daggers into his skull.Â
âAt least get in with us, Y/n,â Nancy spoke up, a smile on her face.Â
You turned to look at Sam, âIâll get undressed if you do.â He teased.Â
âFuck you all.â You grumbled, sitting up. You let Samâs hands travel to the hem of your shirt, pulling it up over your head.Â
âFold it, itâs cashmere.â You muttered to him, watching him place it gently in one of the chairs. Leaving out the part where it was a Christmas present from Steveâs parents.Â
Sam tugged his own shirt over his head, ignoring the hollers of the boys. You ignored the gazes, keeping your shorts on. Clad in those and a plain black bra. Thankful it at least wasnât white today.Â
âOkay on-â You started, readying yourself for a countdown before you saw Sam running at you full force.Â
âWait-no.â You squealed, being pushed into the pool. The cold water shocked your body, coming up with a shriek. âFuck thatâs cold.âÂ
Samâs hair was dripping all over his face, swimming over to hold you in his arms. You wrapped your legs around his waist, holding onto his shoulders for dear life.Â
âWe should play a game,â Carol spoke up, a devilish grin on her face.Â
The group of you didnât stay in the pool much longer after that, a few games of chicken before you were all shivering. There were only so many times you could push Carol into the water aggressively before someone got mad.Â
âIâm so cold.â Carolâs teeth were chattering while you wrapped the towel around yourself.Â
âI heard his momâs room has a fireplace.â Tommyâs eyebrows waved suggestively at her.Â
âGross, Steve, youâre gonna let them fuck in your parents' bed?â You groaned. Steve turned back, his eyes locking onto yours for what felt like the first time that night. This was while Nancy and Barb had a heated exchange, Barb storming off. You felt bad, making a mental note to bring her a muffin tomorrow morning in homeroom to apologize.Â
âUnless you and Sam want it first.â He said, making you cringe.Â
âWeâre probably gonna head out.â You sighed, bidding them a goodnight.Â
âHey man, thanks for inviting me,â Sam said to Steve, Steve responding with a tight-lipped smile. All you could do was squint at the man, watching him walk into the house.Â
âI guess we should head back.â You mumbled as soon as the two of you were alone, his hands resting on your hips.Â
âI guess,â He sighed playfully. âOr we could take advantage of his empty backyard.âÂ
You gasped, âIâm not fucking you in my friend's yard.âÂ
He shook his head, âI didnât say all that.â He pulled you to one of the beach chairs, laying you down against the cold plastic.Â
Your heart was beating out of your chest, his lips pressed against yours hungrily. You kissed him back with fever, letting his tongue enter your open mouth. You gasped against him, feeling his hands cup your chest. Squeezing them before his hand trailed south, popping open the buttons of your soaked shorts.Â
âThis okay?â He grumbled against your lips. You werenât sure if it was the wine coolers or the warmth of his body against yours, but you nodded.Â
His hand slipped into your underwear easily, fingers finding the spot that had your back arching against the chair. Your eyes fluttered open when he hit that sweet spot inside you.Â
Your gaze accidentally landed on Steveâs window, the curtains open and wide. The warmth in your stomach grew as, watched his bare back ripple on the bed. There was no doubt what he and Nancy were doing. You looked away quickly, pressing your lips to Samâs again. Pretending you didnât just come around his fingers, looking at your best friend. You prayed he didnât see it, the guilt radiating off of you. You shoved it down, focusing on his body against yours.Â
Little did any of you know that Johnathan Byers was in the woods just feet away, snapping photos of all of you.Â
-
Barb was absent from homeroom, and Sam swore to you that there was no reason to be worried. The roads were hard to navigate on Steveâs road, especially at night. It was more likely that she was too embarrassed or tired to come in. It still made a weird, nagging feeling bloom in your chest.Â
At lunch, you reluctantly joined the band of misfits again. Samâs arm was lying against the back of your chair, Steve sitting across from you. Tommy was convinced he got frostbite from the pool, putting his disgusting foot on the lunch table, making you gag.Â
âHey, Y/n.â You turned around, watching Nancy walk up to the table on a mission. âWhen you left, did you see Barb?âÂ
You shook your head, Tommy cutting you off. âWhat?âÂ
âBarbara. Sheâs not here today.â Nancy spoke, her patience running thin.Â
âI seriously have no idea who youâre talking about.â He shrugged.Â
âCome on, donât be an ass, man. Did you...Did you see her leave last night or not?âÂ
âNo, she was gone when we left,â Tommy answered, Carol leaning over the table.Â
âProbably couldnât stand listening to all that moaning.â She moaned, beginning to moan Steveâs name loudly. Tommy joined in mocking Nancy loudly.Â
Steve kicked him under the table, telling them to cut it out. You rolled your eyes, âI was worried this morning, but I think maybe sheâs just skipping. We were out late last night.âÂ
âYeah,â Sam perked up, âSheâs not usually a party goer, you know? Not used to running on a few hours of sleep.âÂ
âYeah, sure,â Nancy said with a tight lip.Â
After lunch, you were excited to finally go home, kissing Sam goodbye when he left for his art club. It was then that you saw Steve walking towards you in the hall, grabbing your arm harshly.Â
âSteve, what the fuck?â You asked, letting him angrily drag you into the parking lot with him. âWhatâs going on?â Carol, Tommy, and one of Carolâs friends, Nicole, followed along. Steveâs sights were on Jonathan Byers as he walked to his car.Â
âSteve, if youâre going to be an asshole to him, Iâm not-â You were cut off by Carol, looking at you for the first time with genuine sympathy in her eyes.Â
âY/n. Apparently, he was taking pictures of us last night.â She said, your eyes widening. Nicole simply nodded. You turned your head back to the disaster that was waiting to unfold.Â
âHey, man,â Steve shouted, his voice wavering in anger. You donât think he was this angry when Trina had you pinned against the lockers freshman year.Â
âWhatâs going on?â Jonathan stuttered, looking at all of you with wide eyes.Â
âNicole here was, uh, telling us about your work.â He said Carol and Tommy agreed. Swearing, it sounded like the coolest art in the world.Â
âAnd weâd just love to take a look. You know, as... connoisseurs of art.âÂ
âI donât know what youâre talking about.â He lied, Tommy snatching his backpack off of him, tossing it over to Steve.Â
âPlease, give me my bag.â He pleaded, Steve, ignoring him. Rifling through it to pull out a stack of photos. You leaned against his shoulder, watching him shuffle through the photos. Your heart fell into your stomach, seeing photos of you all getting out of the pool. Then Nancy upstairs, undressing in the window. Then his focus was on you, Samâs hands down your pants. Your head tilted back in pleasure. Tears stung in your eyes, ripping the photos out of his hand.Â
âLet me see,â Tommy said, snatching a few from Steveâs hand. He and Carol taking turns looking through them. âYeah, this isnât creepy at all.
âI was looking for my brother.â He tried to defend himself, unable to look any of you in the eyes.Â
âNo. No, this is called stalking.â Steve spoke, âNot only did you trespass, but you took perv photos of my best friend and my girlfriend. On my property. During private moments.âÂ
Nancy took the perfect moment to walk up, her face concerned, watching the tears in your eyes. âWhatâs going on?âÂ
âHereâs the starring lady.â Carol smirked, âOne of them, anyway. I have to say Y/n, looks like he was rocking your world.âÂ
You crushed the photos in your hand, shoving them frantically into your bag. Steve shot Carol a look that could kill, âShut the fuck up for once, Carol.âÂ
âThis creep was spying on us last night,â She said, ignoring Steveâs outburst, handing Nancy a photo. âHe was probably gonna save this one for later.âÂ
Her expression matched yours, one of embarrassment and disgust.Â
âSee, you can tell that he knows it was wrong, butâŚâ Steve reached out to wipe Jonathan's sleeve, the boy flinching. âMan, thatâs the thing about perverts... Itâs hardwired into âem. You know, they just canât help themselves.âÂ
You couldnât watch this; the whole situation made your stomach turn.Â
âSoâŚWeâll just have to take away his toy,â Steve said, grabbing the camera.Â
âSteveâŚâ Nancy warned.Â
âNo, please, not the camera,â he begged, watching Steve pretend to give it back. Your whole body cringed when Steve dropped the camera, the lenses shattering on the asphalt.Â
He stepped into Jonathanâs face again, pulling him by his collar. âIf I find out you have pictures of her anywhere on that thing, itâll be the last thing you see.â He spat, pushing him back roughly. Steve didnât have to specify who he was referring to by the way he looked at you, before storming away.Â
You and Nancy were frozen, watching the ripped-up photos crumple to the ground.Â
âHe shouldnât have done that,â Nancy spoke quietly, eyes on the broken camera.Â
âPlease donât make me verbally agree with Carol and Tommy.â You begged, âHe wasnât just creeping on you. There are pictures of me on there, too.âÂ
âYeah, almost seems like Steveâs more upset about those than mine.â She mumbled under her breath.Â
âWhat do you mean by that?â You stopped her, grabbing her arm.Â
She jerked it away, snatching up the rest of the pictures. âNothing. Just nothing, Y/n.âÂ
You were left standing there, dumbfounded. You looked back between Jonathan and the remains of his camera.Â
âI hope you find your brother.â You managed out, walking back towards the group. Steveâs arm wraps around your wrist, pulling you to him.Â
âYou still going to the game?â He asked, his skin still warm from frustration. You shook your head no, pulling away from his grasp.Â
âIâm just gonna head home.âÂ
He looked down at you, concern lacing his features. âCall you later?âÂ
All you could do was give him a weak smile. He paused, holding out his pinky. You stared at his finger; you hadnât done a pinky promise with him in years. You laced yours with his, âPromise.âÂ
You avoided Nancyâs stares when you walked away, holding your hand close to your chest.Â
-
They found Barbaraâs car in a ditch a mile from Steveâs house, 3 days later. In a ditch you passed on the way home that night, unknowing that her body was pinned inside the vehicle for days.Â
A week later, they found Will Byers alive in the woods, malnourished and traumatized, but alive. You were thankful there was at least one positive to the recent events in Hawkins. Nancy was in hysterics at Barbâs funeral, and Sam held you through the guilt. The two of you eventually made it official. Dating him was easier than it had been before, almost too easy. Sometimes it felt like you were putting on a show, living your life as you were taught you were supposed to.Â
Time passed, as it often did. Senior year was full of jobs and college applications, and getting swept up in talk of the future. Despite your insistence on Steve studying and you doing half of his English assignments, his grades werenât good. You held his hand, swore to him it would all be fine. But you knew his dad, and you knew the type of son his dad wanted him to be. Somehow, Halloween had crept up on you; flyers to Tinaâs party floated around the halls.Â
Despite Steveâs incessant begging to get you to join the pair, Sam was out of town visiting family, and you werenât interested in third wheeling. Nancy had already been distant with you ever since the Jonathan incident; the last thing you wanted to do was make it worse. Late that night, you stayed in bed, only being roused by your phone ringing. You tried to ignore it, but the caller was only calling again. You rolled over, angrily gripping the phone off the hook.
âHello?â You barked.
âY/n..â Steveâs faraway voice came in through the phone.Â
âSteve?â You questioned, confused as to what number he was calling you from.Â
âY/n. I need a ride. Nancy left me.â He mumbled.Â
Your eyes nearly bugged out of your head at his words, jumping up to slip on some clothes.Â
âYou at Tinaâs?â He responded with a mumbled yes.Â
âIâll be there in 15. Please do not go anywhere.â You made him promise, not holding drunk Steve to anything. You sped there, parting drunken bodies to find Steve. Sunglasses still perched on top of his head, his eyes hazy.Â
âGuys, itâs my best friend.â He laughed, flinging his body onto yours. You pushed him off with a grunt, grabbing him by the arm. Dragging him out into the yard. Using all your strength as he kept going, deadweight on his feet.
This wasnât the first time you had to pick a drunk Steve up from somewhere, but this was the worst.Â
âBullshit.â Steve slurred, his body slumping more in your hold.Â
âWhat?â You were exasperated at this point, just barely able to toss his body into your passenger seat.Â
âBullshit. Nancy said it was all Bullshit. Didnât love me.â He whined, his face pained with each word.Â
Your brows furrowed, âNancy loves you.â That was all you could manage to say, reaching over him to buckle him in.Â
âNo, no, she doesnât.â He whined by the time you started the car, driving him slowly to his house. You only had to pull over once for him to throw up, thankful he didnât ruin your floorboards.Â
Getting him up into his room was easy, seeing as he threw up a portion of the alcohol in his system.Â
âCome on, Joel Goodson, letâs get you to bed.â You sighed, taking the sunglasses off of him despite his protests. He took his own shirt off, not bothering with his pants, as he curled up in the bed. You watched his eyes flutter closed, his chest rising and falling. He looked peaceful, the frown lines he had earlier melting away. You moved the blanket over him, ready to leave before he stopped you.Â
âPlease donât leave me.â He whimpered, not even opening his eyes.Â
Your heart splintered open in your chest, crawling into bed with him. He nuzzled into your side, probably going to drool all over your sweater. That was fine, as long as he got some sleep.Â
âThank you,â He mumbled, âMâloving me. Wish it was you.âÂ
âWhat?â You asked, your heart falling into your stomach. The only response you got was his gentle snores. You didnât get any sleep that night, content to lie on your back. Brushing your hands through his hair, staring at the ceiling, wondering what he meant. Or if heâd even remember.Â
That wasnât something you had the time for, deciding to push it into the back of your mind.Â
Safe to say he didnât when you woke up to him throwing up in his side table trash can, making you cringe. You did what you did best, taking care of him. He told you the story of what happened between him and Nancy, not liking your response.Â
âI donât think she deserves you, Stevie.âÂ
âCome on-âÂ
âI mean it, I know sheâs going through a lot, but you didnât kill Barb. It was an accident.â
He was quiet for a moment, hesitant to say the rest of the story. âShe also thinks Iâm in love with you.âÂ
The mood in the room shifted, the tension thick. âW-what? Why would she think that?â You stuttered out.Â
He shrugged, not meeting your eyes. âI didnât defend her honor enough with Jonathan, which is funny considering she forgave him.â
âShe forgave him?â You scowled, trying to do your best to forget that night ever happened. The pictures were burnt in your fireplace, alongside photos of you and your ex.Â
âTold her she wasnât allowed to do that since he took pictures of you, too. She didnât like that.âÂ
âWhat a bitch.â You mumbled, grabbing his hand in yours.Â
âDating is hard.â He gave you a sad smile, to which you nodded. âHow are you and Sam?âÂ
You shrugged, âFine. I think it's a little too fine. Sometimes I feel bad that heâs too sweet, too forgiving, too- I donât know, is it mean to say boring?âÂ
âHe does seem a little lame,â He teased, you hitting his chest playfully. He winced, holding his head, âI might throw up, donât do that.âÂ
âHeâs not lame. I just think something is wrong with me. Sometimes it feels like I canât love him like Iâm supposed to. Like I'm broken.â You admitted, watching his eyes soften at your admission.Â
âI think you love me just right.â His words were quiet, heavier than before. âYouâre not broken, Y/n.âÂ
âYou donât make it easy.â You joked, unraveling your hands. Maybe one day youâd explain to him that loving him was the easiest thing in the world, because you never had to think twice. From the moment you were born, there was an invisible thread tying you to him. Instead, you pushed it down, slapping his chest playfully.Â
âEspecially when you smell like an expired liquor store.âÂ
âHey!â He whined.Â
It was all fine, everything was fine. He went to shower, and you went home. He was going to buy Nancy flowers, and you were going to wait by the phone, waiting for Sam to call. So why did it feel so wrong?Â
-
You got a call from Steve the next afternoon, asking if youâd come over. You obliged, only to be godsmacked by his bruised and bloodied face.Â
âOh my god? What the fuck?â You asked, rushing inside the door.Â
âAm I an asshole?â He asked, ignoring your concerns.Â
âWhat?â You muttered, dragging him into the bathroom. You immediately grabbed the first aid kit, ready to wipe his face with an alcohol pad. He stopped you, grabbing your wrist loosely.Â
âAm I an asshole?â He repeated, his dark brown eyes heavy with sadness.Â
âI mean, sure sometimes,â Youâd never lie to him, âBut you arenât an asshole, you can just act like one.âÂ
âI did something really stupid.â He admitted.Â
âOh, really? I canât tell.â You snarked, pressing the pad to his face. Making him wince in pain while you cleaned off the dried blood. âLet me guess, Nancy.â Her name tasted bitter on your tongue.Â
He cocked his head to the side, âYou donât like her?âÂ
âIâm starting not to Stevie.â You admitted, bandaging the cut under his eyes closed.Â
âWent to apologize to her with flowers for the other night, Jonathan Byers was in her bed. Tommy and Carol convinced me to spraypaint some bullshit at the theatre about her being a slut, he kicked my ass.â You took a moment to soak in his story, finishing with one last pink bandage.Â
âWell, I guess you deserved a small ass kicking, but not this bad.â You winced. âAm I allowed to beat her ass?âÂ
âY/n..âÂ
You threw your hands up, âSorry, sorry!âÂ
In the silence, you cleaned up the bloodied paper, washing your hands in the sink. He stayed still, his brows furrowed in thought. A frown line forming into the crease of his forehead, you wanted nothing more than to rub your thumb over it. Releasing all the tension from him.Â
âPenny for your thoughts?â You asked, placing your hand next to his on the counter. Propping yourself up next to him, your arms brushing.
âDo you ever think about it?âÂ
âBout what?â You asked, oblivious to what thoughts were rolling around in that head of his.Â
âHow much easier it would be if we were in love.âÂ
Who would have thought 11 words would tilt your world on its axis? You must have been silent for longer than you thought. Steve speaking up again, âI mean, imagine how easy it would be. Weâre already basically a couple anyway. Imagine if we were in love.â There was a subtle hopefulness in his voice; you told yourself you were reading into things.Â
âYeah. Imagine.â Your voice felt foreign to you.Â
The silence was thick again, Steveâs eyes heavy on you.Â
âPenny for your thoughts?â He copied you, his arm rubbing against yours, intentionally this time. Like he needed your touch to ground himself with each word he spoke. The sensation makes chills go up your spine.Â
âI think,â You cleared your throat, âThat you just got hit in the head a lot. You need ice.âÂ
If Steve was going to speak, you didnât hear, too busy gliding out of the bathroom into the kitchen. Your hands shaking with adrenaline as you get him an ice pack ready.Â
âY-yeah.â He laughed, âProbably have brain damage or something.âÂ
With your doctoring, you gave Steve a clean bill of health, leaving him with instructions to ice and call you if his head hurt any worse. The entire drive home, all you could think about was Sam.Â
Sam made you feel steady, like you were safe on the shore. Feet planted in the sand, a war, breeze flowing through the air. Why wasnât it enough? Why didnât it make you feel alive?Â
-
Adulthood snuck up on you, graduation coming and going. You were ashamed to admit you were relieved he and Nancy were finally done. He seemed sad, but lighter. You had Dustin to thank for that, the kid he semi-adopted, despite him claiming he didnât. The kid adored him. When he went off to summer camp, Steve nearly shed a tear, swearing you to secrecy that youâd never tell him that. Heâd never live it down.Â
When the mall opened up, it was the perfect opportunity for âreal world experienceâ as Steveâs father called it. Scoops Ahoy had hired him on the spot, complete with the cutest little outfit to go with it. You found a simpler, less embarrassing job at a bookstore at the end of the hall. The two of you were still able to spend too much time with each other.Â
His co-worker Robin became your best friend, much to Steveâs chagrin. If he thought you were picking on him, each time the two of you were together, it was Steveâs own personal level of hell.Â
Todayâs topic of discussion was his horrible flirting skills. Being back on the market had made him rusty, fumbling around every single girl that walked in. Robinâs âYou Suckâ board had made you cry out of laughter when she showed you.Â
âLadies, 3 oâclock,â Robin whispered, pulling your head down behind the window. The two of you are ready to spy on him.Â
âAhoy, ladies! Didn't see you there. Would you guys like to set sail on this ocean of flavor with me? I'll be your captain. I'm Steve Harrington.â He spoke, too high a volume for the quiet store. The girls cringed with each word.Â
âOh my god, heâs hopeless.â Robin sighed.Â
You couldnât help but agree, âItâs like a car crash. I canât stop watching.âÂ
He stumbled his way through offering ice cream samples, the girls taking their scoops awkwardly and leaving in a fit of giggles. Steve closed his eyes, âI donât wanna hear it.âÂ
âOh, youâre gonna hear it.âÂ
-
Steveâs freckled shoulders were underneath your hands, your fingers digging into his muscle.Â
âGod, you feel so good.â His voice was raspy, the moan coming deep from his chest. He was deep inside you, his hips rutting frantically against your own. The sound of skin slapping against skin echoed in the room. The headboard slapping the wall.Â
âSteve, Steve.â You moaned his name like a broken record, his lips nipping at your neck. His name fit perfectly on your tongue.Â
âThere you go, honey, you gonna cum around me?â He asked, looking down at you. Your eyes meet his as you..Â
You woke up in a hot sweat, fingers twisting in the sheets. There was a thin layer of sweat covering your body, chest rising and falling. Sam lay next to you, as still as a board. You let out a shaky breath, the throbbing between your legs reminding you of what you just experienced. Slipping out of bed silently was easy, grabbing a glass of water with shaky hands. The fantasies your mind conjured up played like a highlight reel as you stared into the dark room.Â
âWhat the fuck.â You breathed, laying your head down on the cool counter. Hoping the granite would quell the fire blooming through your body.Â
Steveâs words from last fall echoed in your mind.Â
âHave you ever thought about us?âÂ
You felt queasy, content to head back upstairs. Crawling into bed with Sam as if nothing had happened. It was fine; you canât control your dreams. Thereâs no such thing as bad thoughts, only actions. And nothing had happened, nothing will happen.Â
-
The dream was haunting your every move, every time Sam tried to initiate anything, his face blurred with Steveâs. Itâs like you were cursed. You began to see Steve in everything. Every place around Hawkins you frequented, memories lingered on all of your clothes. You couldnât escape him, and a sick, cruel part of you didnât want to.Â
âYou okay?â Sam asked, his hand still steady on your hips. Sam. He was kissing you; he wanted you. You blinked away the faraway look in your eyes, nodding weakly.Â
âJust got distracted.âÂ
You refused to be haunted by make-believe, bringing Sam down to your level. Kissing him hard. Fingers pressed into his shoulders. Your brain continued terrorizing you, flashing you images of your dream. Before you realised it, you were mirroring the exact position. You moaned and twisted your body every which way, fighting for that feeling. When he slipped inside, all you could think about was Steve. Would he touch you like this?Â
âIs that good?â Sam interrupted your thinking, noticing how quiet you had been. His hips slowing down. Catching onto your wood behavior.Â
âY-yeah.â You lied, smiling up at him. âMaybe just a little harder?âÂ
He obliged, the headboard creaking against the wall. Your eyes fluttered shut again, letting yourself indulge. Just for a moment. You told yourself it was to test your theory, but you knew what it was. It was the carnal urge to let yourself crave him. Just once, to let your mind wander into the feelings youâve pushed so far back in your mind.Â
You thought about his plump lips, the way his hair falls on his forehead after basketball practice, the swell of his biceps, and the happy trail you see when he stretches. Steve. All you could think about was Steve, every neuron in your body lighting up at the mere thought of him.Â
âYou like that?â Sam asked, watching your back arch.Â
All you could do was nod, watching a highlight reel behind your eyelids. You imagined what his body would feel like against yours, heavy and slick with sweat. How heâd feel pressed inside you. How attentive he would be. You couldnât take it, your legs shaking around his hips.Â
âStev-Sam.â You stuttered, covering it up with an obnoxious moan. Pushing it down, pushing down every single thought of him that made you feel alive. Your eyes stayed shut when he came, scared your eyes would tell him everything.Â
âGod baby, you really liked that, huh?â He yawned, pressing a kiss to your forehead.Â
That night, you cried in the shower, scrubbing every inch of your body raw. Doing everything you could to feel clean, the sin and disgust clinging to your skin like a bad perfume.Â
-
The next day at work, your hands were shaky. You were spacy, constantly zoning in and out. The mall patrons only occupied you when they had questions. Working at a bookstore was the ideal place for peace and quiet, but now it felt like your own personal hell. Trapped in these walls.Â
When the clock hit noon, you were running through the mall, nearly knocking down entire families in your path.Â
The familiar Scoops Ahoy sign made you sigh. Steve would be on break right now. At least you didnât have to face him. Your body collided with another, his cologne alerting you to his presence before he did.Â
âWhereâs the fire?â Steve laughed, his hands falling to your hips. That was normal, that was something that happened. But now it felt like the fire was inside of you, burning you from the inside out.Â
âUh, I just need to see Robin. Iâm out of girl things. Pads, tampons, you know.â You stuttered out a lie, trying not to watch the way his lips parted when he spoke.Â
âI have some in my car for you, you know.â He started, you cutting him off.Â
âYes! Thank you. Can you go get them?â Your eyes were wide, your voice too loud, and he just squinted at you.Â
âOkay..I donât remember your period making you this weird.â He grumbled, letting go of you. âIâll be back. I can get you some chocolate from Bon Bon?âÂ
âIâd love that.â Your face softened, feeling horrible for lying to him. As soon as his back disappeared amongst the crowd of people, you jumped over the counter, Robinâs scooper flying out of her hand.Â
âWhat the hell?â She asked, eyeing your disheveled appearance.Â
âHey Robin.âÂ
âHey, Y/n.â She mocked your cadence.
âCan I tell you something, if you swear on your life to never mention it to another living soul?â Her face got serious, noticing your expression. Â
âYes, of course.âÂ
You took a deep breath, saying the next sentence so quickly that only someone like Robin would have been able to understand it. âI had a sex dream about Steve last night, and thatâs never happened before, ever. Iâve never thought of him that way, maybe once or twice in passing as a curious teen, but never seriously, and now I canât stop thinking about it.âÂ
Her eyes were wide, your chest heaving from the speed at which you word vomited at her.Â
âA sex dream?â Her jaw was on the floor, âSteve? Your best friend since birth, Steve?âÂ
You shushed her, spinning around the empty Scoops Ahoy like a woman on a mission.Â
âYes.â
âI mean, Iâve had a sex dream about Smurfette once, so I wouldnât think too much about it.â She offered, watching your still panicked face.Â
âWait,â She paused, âWhat do you mean you canât stop thinking about it?âÂ
âI donât wanna talk about it.â You grumbled, knowing Robin wasnât going to let it go.Â
âNope, you canât drop a bombshell on me and not elaborate.âÂ
You grabbed her arm, pulling her into the backroom. Watching through the window anxiously as if he was going to materialize at any moment.Â
âI just keep thinking about it. Like earlier, he was speaking, and all I could think about was that my dream lips had touched his dream lips. Then I couldnât stop thinking about what it would be like to kiss him.â You rambled, âThen I look at him and feel guilty. Like Iâm dirty and sinful because I canât stop thinking about, dreaming about him naked. And inside of me-âÂ
âWhoa! Too much information-â Robin cut you off.Â
You ignored her, âAnd heâs my best friend. My Stevie. So what do I do? I canât even look him in the eyes anymore.âÂ
âDo you like him?â She spoke slowly, like she was poking a frightened bear.Â
You stopped your anxious pacing, tears welling up in your eyes. You were so overwhelmed you could barely think, and you shook your head. âN-no?âÂ
âBabes, you didnât sound too confident there.âÂ
âCan I tell you something else awful?â You whispered, there was never a filter between you and Robin. There probably never would be.Â
She nodded softly at you to speak.Â
âWhen Sam and I had sex the first time, I almost called him Steve. A-and I thought maybe I just you know? Two S names and all,â You laughed manically. âThen the dream, so Iâm wondering if itâs always been subconscious. So when Sam and I had sex last night, I closed my eyes and imagined Steve. And I did it again.âÂ
When it was off your chest, you felt lighter, albeit dizzy.Â
âAnd?â She added, her eyes wide.Â
âI was really sad to open my eyes and see Sam.â You cried, tears pouring down your cheeks now. âAnd Sam was like Wow, youâve never been so into it before and Iâm so awful. Iâm such a bad person.âÂ
Robin was the only person in the world you could trust to tell. You liked Sam, you really did. But you couldnât feel a fraction of what you felt just thinking about Steve with him. You felt broken, stringing the man along because you couldnât face the music.Â
âHoney.â Robin frowned, pulling your shaking frame into her arms. âI donât think youâre a bad person. I just think youâre in love with Steve.âÂ
You shook your head frantically, âI canât be. Canât. Itâll ruin everything.âÂ
Robinâs lips tightened in a straight line, choosing her words carefully. The entire Summer Robin has had to endure similar conversations with Steve. How they still didnât see it was beyond Robin. The entirety of Hawkins thought they had been dating for years.Â
âBut thereâs that chance he could feel the same way. You wonât know unless you try.âÂ
You were saved by the door busting open. Steveâs arms are full of various bags. Pads, tampons, and various snacks. âI wasnât sure what you wanted, just got one of everything. Robin, I got you some gummies-â He rambled, looking up to see the two of you embracing, tears pouring down your face.Â
He held out the bags to you nervously, âIâm sorry your vagina is bleeding.âÂ
The moment the words left his mouth, you and Robin fell into each other laughing, Steveâs face going red.
 âWomen.â He muttered, tossing the bags onto the table with a thud.Â
-
Robinâs words sat heavily on your mind, but instead of listening to her sound advice, you ignored it. Ignored the horrible feeling in your gut and prayed it would go away after some time. Now you were walking up to Steveâs front door, Samâs hand in yours.Â
The kids had conned him into hosting a movie night, complete with all the junk food you all could gather. You, Sam, Robin, and Steve were the designated chaperones. Although itâs not like they actually listened to anything any of you said. You were bombarded when you walked through the door, getting tugged in different directions by various kids. The girls wanted your advice on something, Dustin needed you to convince Steve to let them swim after dinner, and the rest of the boys were screeching about some game.Â
âGo ahead,â Sam had chuckled, âLove you.âÂ
That was another new development. Sam had told you he loved you multiple times now. Each time you sent him a tight-lipped smile, no words escaped your mouth. It broke your heart that you couldnât love him. You loved being loved by him, and you were selfish enough to drag him along.Â
âThat was awkward,â Max muttered. You ignored it. Letting them drag you into the house.Â
After the kids had run you ragged, you found Steve in the kitchen setting up the multiple boxes of pizza.Â
âRemind me again why I signed up for this?â Steve sighed, gesturing to the gaggle of children currently destroying his living room.Â
âBecause they were getting sick of the mall. Itâs summer break.â You laughed, âAnd you are the one who designated yourself as the babysitter.âÂ
He sighed, âStill..âÂ
âAnd you love me?â You giggled, grabbing a stack of plates from the cabinet.Â
âThat I do.â He said, his eyes meeting yours before they caught Samâs hovering behind you.Â
âI love you. Love you enough to tell you that Iâm not helping you clean this up tomorrow.âÂ
Sam cleared his throat, and you whipped around. Startled by his presence.Â
âHi-âÂ
âCan we talk?â He cut you off, shooting Steve daggers behind your back.Â
âOkay?â You stuttered, taken off guard. Steve excused himself, patting your arm gently before he slid past you two. Leaving you both alone in his kitchen, Samâs eyes dark on yours.Â
âWhatâs wrong?â You asked.Â
âWhy do you let him do that?âÂ
Your brows furrowed, âLet who do what?âÂ
âSteve. You let him give you those pathetic puppy dog eyes.â
âI donât know what youâre talking about.âÂ
âOh come on,â He laughed, the tension growing thick, âHe glares at me like Iâm going to attack him at any second, then he looks at you like a kicked dog. He touches you whenever he gets the chance. And you just let him.âÂ
âSam, itâs-â You stuttered, âItâs how weâve always been.âÂ
âYeah, well, itâs getting sort of ridiculous, Y/n.â He scoffed, spinning around to head for the door.Â
You followed, ripping the door open behind him. âWhat is?âÂ
âYou!â He yelled, his hands waving in front of you. With all the commotion, you gave it a few minutes before Steve and Robin followed you outside. No doubt the kids had their ears pressed to the door. What an embarrassing disaster this night has turned into
âSam-âÂ
âHave you just been playing in my face for over a year?â He asked, his voice thick with emotion.Â
You shook your head quickly, tears welling in your eyes. âNo, no Sam no. I would never.âÂ
âSo you love me?âÂ
You went silent, your bottom lip wobbling.Â
âYou canât even fucking say it.â He spat. âThatâs all I wanted from you, but you canât even give me that.âÂ
âIs this because I told Steve I love him?â You whimpered, willing the tears not to fall. âWeâve been telling each other we love each other since we could speak.âÂ
He shook his head, âNo. Something changed. Either youâre too blind to see it or-â He cut himself off, letting out a heartbroken laugh. The front door opens behind you. You knew who it was, without turning around. Steve would always come for you; he always has. What youâve truly wanted has been right in front of you, and you never realized it until now.Â
âThereâs your knight and shining armor.â Sam scoffed, rubbing his mouth with his hand.Â
âY/n, are you okay?â Steve ignored Samâs words, his soft voice speaking to you only. The voice he used before kissing your bandaids over scraped knees. The voice that got you through the darkest times. The same one that asked you that night, he asked if youâd ever thought about it.Â
âSheâs fine. Weâre talking, can we please have a moment?â Sam spoke when you didnât, tears falling freely down your cheeks now.Â
âI wasnât speaking to you,â Steve responded, his hands on his hips now.Â
Sam laughed, a cruel one. âI know you canât fight Harrington, so donât bother.âÂ
âStop.â You spoke weakly, turning around. âSteve, just give us a second.âÂ
His eyes met yours, the two of you having a silent conversation with your eyes. He was ready to turn inside, but this only angered Sam further.Â
âActually, no, Steve, you should stay.â Samâs voice chilled you to your bones, your eyes snapping to his. Despite your protests, he continued. âWe were just talking about how Y/n doesnât love me. Apparently, youâre all she can think about.âÂ
âBullshit-â
âYouâre dreaming about him, Y/n! You have repressed your feelings so far down that you donât even realize how pathetic it is. God, itâs so fucking embarrassing being with you, watching the two of you dance around each other.âÂ
âI donât know what youâre talking about.â You cried, confused as to how he would even know about your dreams, your feelings.Â
âYou say his name in your sleep. You say his name during sex.â He let out in a heartbreaking laugh, âYou think I didnât hear you? You think I donât see that faraway look in your eyes? When you look disappointed to see me there?âÂ
It was as if you could feel your world falling apart all around you; you wanted nothing more than the world to swallow you whole. Steveâs eyes were burning into the back of your head; you couldnât face him. Not when Sam was laying it all out in the open, flaying your heart open right here for Steve to see.Â
âThat doesnât mean I never cared for you.â You sniffled, âSam, I could love you, I could.âÂ
âI wish I could believe that. I really do.â He sighed, shuffling his feet.Â
Steve stayed quiet, unsure of what to do. He was stuck against the door, his heart aching for you. Even for Sam.Â
âYou know what the worst part of all of this was?â He laughed, tears filling his eyes, âI always knew this would be how it ended. You, running into his arms. Everyone warned me, but I loved you too much to listen.âÂ
âIâm so sorry.â You blubbered, your arms wrapped around yourself. This was it; you couldnât go back from this.Â
He shook his head, âNo. Not really, youâre not..â Were his last words as he turned around, speeding off down the road in his truckÂ
Everything you had ever known was dissipating in front of your eyes. All the plans you had made. That metaphorical box of feelings you had been cramming to the brim finally crumbled underneath its own weight. You were scared you were going to drown. The unknown picking up your body and dragging you to sea.Â
âY/n..â There was that voice again, your forever anchor. You shook your head, wiping away your tears. You couldnât face him, you couldn't do this.Â
âWe gotta talk about it.â His voice was thick, âWe gotta get it out.âÂ
âI canât.â You whimpered, hiding your face in your hands.Â
He stepped forward anyway, grabbing your wrists in his hands. Pulling them away to expose your tear-stained cheeks.Â
âItâs just me. Itâs just me.â He reassured you, holding your face in his hands. He held you as if his whole world was resting upon his palms, because it was.Â
âThatâs the problem.â You cried, eyes still squeezed shut. If you opened your eyes and saw him, it would all be real; the weight of this would crash on your shoulders. But you knew heâd be there to catch you.Â
He let you steady yourself, pressing his forehead to yours. Waiting for your frantic breaths to match his, your shaking hands gripped his jacket. Searching for a lifeline.Â
âAll this timeâŚ.â He cleared his throat. âWhy didnât you tell me?âÂ
Your eyes shot open at his words, his eyes glossy, full of a thousand unsaid words.Â
âI've spent so many years dancing around it. Pushing it down and just praying it would go away. If I thought about it too hard, if I let the idea cross my mind, it would never go away. So I couldnât. Couldnât lose you.â You cried.Â
âYouâd never lose me. Look at me, Y/n Y/l/n.â He promised, forcing you to keep your eyes on him. He wasn't going to let you look away, not now.Â
 âThe love I have for you,â his voice cracking, âThe love I have for you transcends every possible doubt you have in your mind. I look for you in every room, every time I need you, you are right there, youâve always been right there. Through it all. If I could go back, I'd kick myself for letting you get away from me for so long, but it doesnât matter. Because weâre right here. And I'm not going anywhere. However long it takes, whatever it takes. Youâve always been my girl.âÂ
You nodded, âPinky promise?â It came out as a pathetic whimper, tears slipping down Steveâs cheeks, matching your own.Â
âYes,â He gave you a teary laugh, âPinky promise.â His hand came up, his pinky finding yours. He leaned down, kissing your knuckles. Suddenly, you were both 13 again, the same Indiana sun beaming down on you two.Â
âI choose you and me, religiously. Through everything, everyone in my life. Not because I felt like I needed to, but because I wanted to. There was no one else, god, there was never anyone else Iâve loved as much as I love you.â He cried, his forehead pressing harshly into yours, âItâs always been us. You hear me?â
âSteve..âÂ
âI love you, Y/n, youâre my best friend, and I am helplessly, unequivocally in love with you.âÂ
âThatâs a real big word for you.â You laughed through the tears, making him beam.Â
âIt is a huge word for me, only I even know it because of you.â He sighed, âThere are no words to explain just how much I love you.Â
âI think Iâve loved you my whole life.â You whispered, your noses brushing. âItâs the only thing thatâs ever come easy to me.âÂ
Steveâs smile could rival that of a thousand suns, his lips brushing yours. âCan I?â His voice was meek, unsure.Â
You didnât even have a chance to nod, closing the gap between you. Your lips pressing softly to his. He kissed you like he was coming home, and you kissed him back as you needed him to survive. The two of you are drowning in the kiss, hands clenching each other tightly as if both of you would wake up from a dream.Â
When you pulled apart for air, his cheeks were flushed, his eyes dark. What a mess the two of you looked, tear-stained and blushing in the middle of his driveway.Â
âI love you.â You said, just to say it. Just because you could.Â
âAnd I love you.â He pressed a longing kiss to your forehead, pulling back to look at you.Â
âThis has been so embarrassing. Canât believe I ruined movie night.â You sniffled.
âThose kids are fine. Robins probably distracted them by now with some ridiculous scheme.â Steve said, kissing away the tears running down your face. You both had a lot to talk about, you needed time to think, and grieve. But the crushing weight of your feelings was finally off your shoulders, and Steve didnât run away. He ran towards you, holding your hand just like he always had.Â
You were thankful for the kids who acted oblivious, throwing popcorn at you the moment you walked back in the door. Making you pay for having to listen to Robin monologue about Gremlins, before even pressing play on the tape.Â
Steve simply shrugged, pulling you down against him on the couch. His arms are around your chest. It wasnât anything different from how heâd held you before, but it was also so different. New intentions, a new feeling sparking every time you two touched.Â
That night, neither of you was able to sleep, content to tiptoe over the sleeping children. Steve nearly slips on Mikeâs blanket, making you have to cover your mouth to stop the laugh from slipping out. The sliding glass door creaked as you two descended into the night. Steve practically pulling you into his backyard like a man on a mission.Â
âWhat are you doing?â You giggled, watching the old trampoline come into view. Your heart ached; it must have been in his garage collecting dust.Â
âMade the kids pull it out.â He answered you before you even asked, his hand coming up to rub the back of his neck. âRobin asked if we wanted candles and rose petals, but I told her this was perfect.âÂ
âIt is.â You whispered, your hands running over the rusted springs.Â
Steve helped hoist you up, the two of you plopping down on the worn-out plastic. Both of you bouncing into each other.Â
In a rushed fit of giggles, you pulled him down next to you, your head nuzzling into his chest. With his arm around your waist, he held you close. The stars were bright tonight, a rare, clear night this time of year.Â
âI never thought this would happen,â He admitted, âAlways thought you were too good for me. That Iâd never deserve you. I still donât think I do.âÂ
âI didnât think youâd ever choose me. I mean, out of all the girls in Hawkinâs youâve been with, and thereâs been a lot,â You teased, âI didnât think I had a shot in the dark.âÂ
âHoney, you are my girl. Everyone knew.â He smiled, thinking back to all the times everyone said you two were practically dating anyway. Looking back, it was painfully obvious; the only oblivious ones were you two.Â
âGuess I just thought you were fulfilling some pinky promise we made as kids. Like out of some weird obligation to the weird girl who started following you around one day and never stopped.â You admitted sheepishly.Â
âThatâs ridiculous, honey.â That was all he could say, humor lacing his words.Â
âI mean, looking back, it was kinda obvious,s huh?â You laughed, your mind giving you a highlight reel of the past few years. All the girlfriends of his you hated, the boyfriends of yours he wouldnât even give a chance. Everyoneâs whispers, both of your parents, calling it from a young age. It was always inevitably going to end here, no matter how bumpy the ride.Â
âDude, our moms are gonna flip.âÂ
âUgh, theyâve probably already planned the tackiest wedding imaginable.â You groaned.Â
âYou wanna marry me, honey?â He teased, poking your side.Â
âShut up.â You grumbled, your cheeks warming.Â
âI think,â He said, eyes going back up to the stars, âI think I'd marry you right now if you said yes.âÂ
âIâd say yes.â You admitted, âIâve never been so sure about something my whole life.âÂ
Suddenly, he was jolting up from the trampoline, leaving you bouncing in his absence.Â
âWhat are you doing?â You laughed, watching him stumble around in the dark, hands brushing through the grass. If you knew any better, youâd have thought he finally lost his mind. Â
âWait, wait. No! Yes, fuck yes okay.â He muttered, ripping something out of the ground, running back up the trampoline. He was illuminated by the moonlight, his eyes sparkling as he looked up at you. He was on one knee, holding up a dandelion heâd folded into a ring.Â
âAre you proposing?â You laughed, unable to keep a straight face.Â
âYes, not for real, but also kinda?â He chuckled nervously, âWill you, Y/n Y/l/n, take me, Steve Harringtonâs hand in marriage? In probably about a year or so from now??âÂ
âYou are ridiculous.âÂ
He tsked, âThatâs not an answer.âÂ
âWhat are my options?âÂ
âYes, and uh.. Oh yeah, yes.âÂ
âGod, lots of decisions to think over.âÂ
You smiled down at him, holding out your left hand. âSteve Harrington, yes, I will marry you.âÂ
âFuck yeah.â He cheered, slipping the weed onto your finger. With the yellow flower against your skin, all you could think about was his bouquet of dandelions he brought you when you were a kid.Â
âCome here.â You whispered, dragging him back up with you. Your lips meet his. This kiss was different than the first; this was hot and heavy. Your mouth opened, letting his tongue explore. You straddled his hips, pinning him down as best you could while the two of you bounced with every movement.Â
âBaby.â He groaned, your lips trailing down the side of his neck.Â
âHmm?â You hummed, your hand crawling under his shirt. Finally touching the rough patch of hair you dreamed about. His soft stomach underneath your palm.Â
âDonât think thereâs anyone in the woods with a camera, do you?â He asked, making you fall off of him in a fit of giggles.Â
âOh, thatâs fucked up.âÂ
âSorry, I had to.â He threw his hands up, âI mean, weirdly, heâs a cool guy. He and Nancy make a good couple.âÂ
âI think we make a better couple.â You cheesed, pressing another kiss to his lips. Then another, and another. Youâd never get sick of it.Â
âI agree.â He laughed in between kisses. âI also think we should take this upstairs.âÂ
You met his hungry eyes, taking his hand in yours, letting him lead the way. This was one of those times you were thankful for Steveâs rich parents. His room was upstairs on the other end of the house from everyone else.Â
You had been in Steveâs rooms countless times, even slept in his bed more times than your own. But suddenly it was real; none of this was some dream you found yourself lost in. He was right here in front of you, his hands leading you to his bed.Â
âWe donât have to do anything you donât want to.â He spoke calmly, nerves radiating off of you. You looked up at him, the hunger in his eyes matching your own.Â
âI want this,â You whispered, âI want you.â With every fiber of being, this was all you wanted.Â
The rest was a blur, messy kisses, hushed moans, and trembling hands as clothes floated to the floor. He hesitated against your bra strap, staring deep into your eyes when the clasp came undone. Pulling it off your body as he was unwrapping a delicate vase.Â
âYou,â His mouth went dry, his eyes still on yours. âAre the most beautiful women Iâve ever seen.âÂ
You were burning alive for him. His hands touched you gently, his thumbs rubbing over your peaked buds. With each gasp that left your lips, Steve watched, memorizing every single touch that left you reeling.Â
âThis okay?â He whispered, his face leaning down into your ribcage.Â
âYes, Please.âÂ
This was all he needed, his lips trailing wet kisses down your sternum. His tongue flicked over the sensitive bud, flattening before he took it into his mouth, Sucking ever so softly, while his other hand gripped your other tit, massaging the flesh.Â
âOh my god.âÂ
You could barely breathe, the pressure between your legs growing with each wet trail of his tongue. He pulled off with a lewd pop, his lips glossy. He didnât stop there, his kisses trailing down your stomach, until he was perfectly settled between your hips. Arms caging your body in.Â
âHow are you feeling?â Ever the worrier, Steve was going to stop every few seconds, asking if you were okay. Your body was trembling underneath his, in anticipation and nerves.Â
âGood. I love you.â You panted, his fingers curling in the sides of your underwear.Â
âGonna take these off now, that okay?âÂ
You frantically nodded, lifting your hips for him. When he threw them alongside the pile of your other clothes, your legs fell shut on impulse.Â
He looked up at you, a silent question in his eyes.Â
âC-can you take your shirt off?â You asked, feeling underdressed. He flung the shirt off quicker than youâve ever seen before, smiling wildly at you. His bare skin was warm against your legs as he settled himself back in position, hands gripping your thighs.Â
âOpen up for me, honey.âÂ
You let out an embarrassed squeal, âWait.âÂ
Steve paused, watching your face scrunch with nerves. âSâwhat wrong?âÂ
âIâve neverâŚâ You trailed off, choking on your embarrassment.Â
âWhat?â He asked, taking a minute to put two and two together. He looked down at your clamped legs, and back up to you like heâd seen a ghost.Â
âAre you serious?â His voice had lowered an octave, hands clenching. âNo oneâs ever gone down on you.âÂ
âThey all said it was g-gross. So I didnât bother you, know?â You flushed, âYou donât have to.âÂ
He stopped you, unclenching his jaw. âGross? Baby, I have every right mind to go track them down and beat their ass.âÂ
A squeak escaped your lips, âYouâre hot when youâre mad.âÂ
âI am mad, mad because thereâs no reason any of those men deserved you. Iâve been wanting to get my mouth on you for years, and they just-â He cut himself off, hand rubbing small circles on your calf. âBaby, do you want me to go down on you?âÂ
You nodded sheepishly, âJust nervous.âÂ
âDonât be. You just talk to me, okay? If thereâs anything you donât like, anything you want. Need you to promise youâll tell me.âÂ
âOkay, yeah. Promise.â You leaned back, bracing yourself on his pillows.Â
âGood.â He grabbed your tights gently, âOpen up for me, pretty girl.âÂ
You obliged, letting your legs fall open for him. A shock went through you at the sensation of your wet cunt hitting the cold air. Steveâs eyes were locked on you. Practically drooling at the sight of you.Â
âGorgeous.â He babbled, pressing kisses up and down your inner thighs. âYouâre so fucking gorgeous. Gonna put my mouth on you, okay?âÂ
You nodded, your body jerking the moment his wet mouth came down on your clit. He took it slow, letting his tongue draw circles over you. You were over the moon, letting out choked moans of his name. You didnât know it would feel this good.Â
His tongue flattened, teasing your entrance before suckling your clit into his mouth. He ate you out like a man starved, moaning against you. The sensations had your legs shaking, overwhelmed by new feelings that licked up your spine.Â
âSteve..âÂ
âHowâs it feel, baby?â He panted, your wetness covering the bottom half of his mouth when he came up for air. His hand curled around to your entrance. Â
âSâgood. Bab,y it feels so good.â You basically sobbed, your cunt welcoming in his thick fingers. Stretching you out with each curl of his fingertips. His mouth wrapped around you, and that was all it took; your back arched off the bed. Grinding into his mouth messily as you came. He held your hips still, stroking out each morsel of your orgasm. Sweat clung to your forehead, your chest rising and falling quickly.Â
âI donât think Iâve ever come that hard.â You sighed dreamily. Steve had a shit-eating grin on his face, wiping his face on his discarded shirt before crawling back up your body. His lips met yours, kissing you deeply. You could taste yourself on his tongue, moaning weakly when he pulled apart.Â
âI will do that all day, every single day.â He swore between kisses. His hips pressed against yours; the only thing separating you two was the thin fabric of his boxers. You could feel his hard length pressed against you.Â
âCan I return the favor?â Your teeth came down to bite your bottom lip, wanting nothing more than to run your tongue down his happy trail straight to his cock.Â
âAnother time?â He smiled, speaking before you frowned, âI need to feel you.âÂ
âJust for a second?â You pleased, giving him your best doe eyes. He knew he could never say no to you. His boxers were pulled off, his cock slapping against his stomach. He was huge; your mouth salivated at the idea of wrapping your mouth around his pulsating tip. He fumbled around in his drawer, holding up a condom in his hand like it was a winning lottery ticket. He lay next to you on the bed, letting you switch positions.Â
Your hand wrapped around him slowly, barely fitting. He gritted his teeth before you could fully pump him. The length twitching in your hand.Â
âO-okay, baby-â He winced, his head hitting the headboard when your lips wrapped around him. Licking the precum off of him, savoring the salty taste of him. His hips jerked up, his cock sliding into your mouth deeper.Â
âFuck, okay, nope. Nope.â He hissed, gently pulling you off of him. This time, it was your turn to have a shit-eating grin on your face.Â
âWhat? Canât handle it?â You teased, squealing when he gripped your hips. Flipping you back onto your back with a thump.Â
âNope, my girl has a perfect fucking mouth,â He smirked, âBut I wanna feel this pretty pussy more.âÂ
Your core throbbed at his words, hips rutting against the air for relief. He sat up between your legs, sliding the condom over his length.Â
âReady?â He asked, to which you nodded frantically.Â
âYeah, baby.âÂ
His tip circled your entrance a few times, spreading your wetness around for him. Before he braced himself, sliding himself in slowly. Your hands found his shoulders, fingers creating half-moon indentations as you welcomed the stretch.Â
âDoing so well.â He praised, pressing kisses up and down your neck and chest. âTaking me so well. So fucking tight for me.âÂ
When his hips bottomed out against yours, tears sprang in your eyes. You were so full, emotions overwhelming you.
He noticed your eyes fluttering shut, his hand moving to cradle your cheek. âEyes on me. Eyes on me.â He cooed.Â
You were scared, so scared youâd open them, and it was just another dream. âIâm real. Iâm here.â He reassured, pressing soft kisses to your cheeks. They fluttered open again, and you stared at your brown-eyed lover. Drinking him in, every freckle, every imperfection. You wanted to count his eyelashes and memorize the patterns in his irises.Â
âI love you.â Your voice was raw, the words spilling out heavier than ever before. Despite the countless times the two of you said those three words to each other over the years, this was the one that meant the most. That held the most weight. It carried every emotion youâve pushed down over the past decade. Now it poured out of you, oozing from your very being.Â
His smile was infectious: âI love you so much.â Another kiss on your lips. Something youâd never get sick of, his plump lips against yours. Moving with a passion that can only be built from years of secret glances and repressed feelings.Â
You both moved as if the other was going to slip through your hands like water. Hands frantic, but focused. Memorizing every bit of each otherâs bodies as your body welcomed him in.Â
âYou can move.â You sighed, the discomfort turning into pleasure. He did an experimental rock of his hips, hitting a spot deep inside you that had you mewling.Â
âOh, already, baby?â He cooed, using the hand that wasnât propped up to rub circles on your cheek with his thumb.Â
âSâdeep.â You slurred, with each expert movement, your body was on fire. The wet sounds of him dragging in and out of your cunt only fueled the burning. The bed creaked when he sped his movements up.Â
âI love you. I love you.â Steve grunted, his fair falling meassily on his forehead. His eyebrows scrunched up, staring down at you, watching you come apart underneath him. Committing every second to memory.Â
Your legs wrapped around his hips, pulling him even closer if that was possible. His thick patch of hair sits above his cock, rubbing deliciously against your clit, his tip hitting your cervix as he fucked into you.Â
âIâm gonna cum. Baby gonna cum.â You whined, feeling the tension coil deep in your gut. Steve nodded with a grunt, grabbing your legs and spreading them wide. The new angle had you screaming his name, his fingers rubbed your clit messily while you spasmed around him. Coming so hard your ears began to ring, legs shaking in his hold.Â
He fucked you through it, keeping you spread wide for him. âThatâs it. Take this cock, baby. Feels good? Feels so good.â He muttered, his hips stuttering.Â
âCome inside me,â You babbled mindlessly, paying no mind to the condom between you two.Â
âOh fuck.â Steve gasped, emptying his load into the condom with a gasp. Falling slack against your body with each twitch of his cock inside you.Â
Your hands curled in his hair, his panting breaths hitting your chest as the two of you came down. Relishing in the sounds of each otherâs breathing, and his skin on yours.Â
After a while, he pulled out of you with a hiss, disposing of the condom and cleaning the two of you up. He crawled back into bed, beckoning you to lie on his chest.Â
You didnât hesitate, curling yourself up against him. Letting his hands find your scalp, massaging your head. You cooed into him.
âPenny for your thoughts?â You sighed dreamily, Steveâs fingers expertly combing through your hair.Â
âMy thoughts are worth more than a penny.â He teased, making you roll your eyes at him.Â
âI have a kiss, take it or leave it.âÂ
âOh, Iâm taking it alright.â He leaned down, pecking your lips gently.Â
âOkay, pay up.â You ordered, letting his hands go back to caressing your scalp.Â
âJust thinking about you. Our future.â He hummed, like it was the simplest thing in the world.Â
You sat up a little, âOh yeah?â
âOh yeah, big house. Youâll have a garden out back. Weâll have a pool. So I can watch you lounge outside while I grill. A couple of dogs running around, maybe ten kids?âÂ
âYouâre out of your mind, Stevie.â You gasped.Â
âOkay, what about six?â He compromised, pulling his face down to yours once again.Â
âMaybe letâs slow down, become real adults first. Then⌠yeah, maybe Iâll give you a couple kids.âÂ
He smirked. âI knew it.âÂ
Your mind conjured up images of little versions of you and Steve running around. Growing up alongside the battalion of aunts and uncles downstairs.Â
âYouâre gonna have to buy a minivan if you want that many kids. Can you imagine us taking home a baby in the beamer?âÂ
âOur first two babies are definitely coming home in the beamer, babe. Itâs when we get to 3, then we need to start looking into minivan territory.âÂ
âIf youâre doing the heavy lifting...â You shrugged, imagining Steve in dad jeans. Pulling carseats out of his car. Your children running around the two of you. Family dinners, vacations, and the stable parents that neither of you were afforded growing up.Â
âOf course.â He scoffed, not believing youâd think otherwise.Â
âGuess we gotta find better jobs to support this million-dollar idea, huh?â You laughed, Steve pausing for a minute.Â
âGod, I guess youâre right.â He slumped, trying not to think too hard about the stress of that lingering on top of his shoulders.Â
âHey,â You whispered, âItâs all gonna work out, we have each other. Thatâs all that really matters.âÂ
âYeah.â He smiled wistfully, âYou havenât been able to get rid of me this long, donât even try now, babe.âÂ
Summary: How is Cedric meant to ask you out on a date when he keeps getting interrupted by your tornado of siblings?
A/N: This was way longer than I expected it to be
Growing up a Weasley meant you always had someone looking out for you.
It also meant you always had to look out for your family.
When you were very little, you didnât remember being spoiled the way your brothers claimed you had been. That must have happened when you were still a babyâwhen your mother finally held her long-awaited daughter in her arms after three boys.
But only a year later, she was blessed again with twins. And suddenly, there were two more mouths to feed, two more babies to soothe, two more crying voices in a house that already never seemed to quiet down.
It wasnât surprising that somewhere in all that chaos, you slipped through the cracks.
Not completely. Never completely.
Your parents loved youâof course they did. You never doubted that. But love, you would come to learn, didnât always mean attention. And attention was something that had to be divided carefully in a family as large as yours.
But you didnât grow up alone.
Not really.
Because where your parents were stretched thin, your brothers filled in the gaps.
Bill.
Charlie.
Percy.
But especially Charlie.
Charlie had been the one to carry you around the Burrow as if you weighed nothing, settling you on his hip while he did chores, letting you tug at his hair as he laughed and pretended to complain. He was the one who taught you how to climb trees, who patched up your scraped knees, who tied your shoelaces, who read to you when your mother was too tired to finish the story herself.
He liked to joke that you were more his child than your parentsâ, considering how much he had done to raise you.
So when Charlie first left for Hogwarts, leaving you home with Percy as the only older sibling, you cried.
And cried.
And cried.
For weeks.
Both Charlie and Bill had to send you letters almost every day just to soothe you, but even then you still missed them terribly.
And then the day came when you were old enough to join them.
The platform was loud in the way only Platform Nine and Three-Quarters could be, full of overlapping voices and rushing footsteps and the sharp whistle of the train cutting through it all. Trunks rattled over uneven stone, owls hooted impatiently from their cages, and somewhere behind you, your mother was still fussing over whether you had packed enough socks.
It was overwhelming, but not in a bad wayânot yet. Not when you were surrounded on all sides by your family, by the familiar press of bodies and voices that had always meant safety. You stayed close to your brothers, close enough that your sleeve brushed Charlieâs every few steps, just in case.
âAlright,â Bill said at last, sliding open the door to an empty compartment with an ease that made it seem like heâd done it a hundred times before, âIn you go.â
Before you could protest, Percy was already lifting your trunk onto the rack with careful precision, muttering something under his breath about proper placement and weight distribution, while Bill adjusted your smaller bags so they sat neatly in the corner.
Charlie nudged your shoulder gently, guiding you inside, but you lingered near the doorway for a moment instead of sitting, suddenly unsure of what to do with yourself now that everything had become real.
You watched as Bill brushed his hands together in satisfaction and Percy gave a small, approving nod, as though everything was exactly as it should be.
You hovered in the doorway instead.
ââŚCanât I just come with you?â You asked, quieter than you meant to, your fingers tightening slightly around the edge of the compartment door.
Bill glanced at Percy, then back at you, and something in his expression softened immediately. He reached out without hesitation, ruffling your hair in a way that was more fond than teasing, even if it left a few strands sticking up at odd angles.
âIf you stick with us like that,â He said gently, âyouâll never make your own friends.â
You frowned faintly, not quite convinced, your gaze dropping for a second before flicking back up.
âItâs only for the ride,â Percy added, adjusting his sleeves as he straightened, already half-turned toward the corridor, âWe'll meet you back at the castle.â
They lingered only a moment longer before stepping back into the corridor, already being pulled away by the movement of students and the rising noise as departure drew closer. You moved to follow them instinctively, your body shifting forward before you caught yourself at the doorway, fingers curling slightly against the frame as their voices faded into the general hum.
Charlie hadnât left.
He stood just outside the compartment, watching you in that quiet, knowing way of his, like he could see straight through the brave face you were trying to hold together. For a moment, neither of you spoke, and then something in his expression shiftedâsomething softer, more certainâas he stepped back inside and slid the door shut behind him, shutting out the corridor noise just enough to make the space feel smaller, steadier.
âIâll be right down the train,â He said, nodding toward the direction Bill and Percy had gone, âThird compartment on the left, I think.â
âIf you get lonely,â He continued, crouching slightly so he was closer to your eye level, his voice lowering just enough to feel like it was meant only for you, âor if anything happensâanything at allâyou come find me. Yeah?â
You nodded, the tight feeling in your chest easing just a little.
âAlright.â You murmured.
Charlie smiled then, softer than before, and leaned forward to press a quick kiss to the top of your head. It was such a familiar gesture that it grounded you instantly, made everything feel just a little less uncertain, a little less overwhelming.
âSee you in a bit.â He said.
And then he was gone too.
The door slid shut behind him with a soft click, and just like that, the noise of the corridor dulled into something distant, muffled by the glass and wood of the compartment. For a moment, you just stood there, staring at the empty seat across from you, listening to the low rumble of the train as it finally began to move.
It felt strange, suddenly.
Too quiet.
You sat down slowly, smoothing your hands over your skirt more out of habit than anything else, your gaze drifting toward the window as the platform began to slip away. Families waved from outside, figures blurring together as the train picked up speed, and for a brief second, you caught sight of your motherâs bright hair among the crowd before it disappeared entirely.
Students passed by in groups, laughing and talking, already settled into friendships you hadnât had the chance to form yet, their voices carrying faintly through the compartment door. Every now and then, someone would glance in, hesitate, and then move on.
For a moment, you considered getting up.
Going after Charlie.
He said you could.
But Billâs words lingered, stubborn and unshakable.
Youâll never make your own friends.
You were still turning that thought over in your mind when the compartment door slid open.
You looked up quickly, your attention snapping toward the sound as a boy about your age stood in the doorway, one hand still resting on the handle as he glanced around the compartment.
âIs this seat taken?â He asked.
You shook your head almost immediately. âNoâno, itâs not.â
âGood,â He said with a small, easy smile, stepping inside and sliding the door shut behind him before taking the seat across from you, âEvery other compartment seems to be full already.â
You nodded, your fingers curling slightly in your lap as you tried to think of something else to say, aware of that familiar flicker of uncertainty beginning to creep in at the edges. For a moment, the silence stretched just a little too longâ
Then he leaned forward slightly, resting his arms against his knees, closing the distance just enough to make it feel less awkward instead of more.
âIâm Cedric." He offered.
You gave your name in return, a little quieter at first, but steadier than you expected, and something in his expression brightened slightly, like he was pleased youâd said it.
âFirst year?â He asked.
You nodded, a small smile tugging at your lips, âYou too?â
âYeah.â He glanced out the window briefly before looking back at you, âDo you know what house you want to be in?â
You hesitated, then shrugged lightly. âMy brothers are all in Gryffindor,â You said, as if that explained anything at all, âSo⌠maybe that one.â
Cedric huffed a quiet laugh at that, not unkind, just amused. âMy dad was in Hufflepuff,â He said, âSo I think Iâll probably end up there. Thoughââ his mouth tilted slightly as he glanced at you again, ââGryffindor doesnât sound too bad now.â
Whether he meant anything by it or not didnât really matter.
You felt warmth creep up your face anyway.
The conversation came easier after that, settling into something simple and steady. You talked about classes you thought might be interestingâTransfiguration, maybe, or Charmsâand the ones you were a little nervous about.
He admitted he wasnât sure how he felt about Potions, and you told him you thought it sounded exciting, though your brothers had warned you about the professor being a troll. You werenât entirely sure if they meant that literally or not, and the way Cedric laughed at thatâgenuine and a little surprisedâmade something in your chest loosen.
At some point, he excused himself briefly, returning a few minutes later with snacks in hand, setting a Chocolate Frog carefully on the seat between you like it was the most natural thing in the world.
âFor you.â He said simply.
You blinked at it, a little startled, âYou donât have toââ
âI know,â He replied with a small shrug, âI wanted to.â
There wasnât anything grand about it, no expectation behind the gesture, and somehow that made it easier to accept.
âThank you.â You said, a small smile forming as you picked it up.
You opened the box carefully, peeling back the flap and catching the chocolate frog just before it could leap free, your attention shifting to the card tucked inside. Cedric leaned forward slightly, curiosity lighting his expression.
âWhoâd you get?â He asked.
You glanced down at it, then back up at him, âMerlin.â
You looked back at the card, then held it out toward him without much thought, âDo you want it?â
He blinked, clearly caught off guard, âWhat? Noâare you sure? You should keep it.â
You shrugged lightly, a small, easy motion, âYou seem way more interested in it than I am.â
For a moment, he just stared at you, like he wasnât quite sure what to make of that, before slowly reaching out and taking the card, something softer settling into his expression.
âThanks.â He said, quieter this time.
By the time the train finally slowed, the sky had already begun to darken, the last traces of daylight fading into something softer, quieter, as students poured out onto the platform in a rush of movement and chatter. You stayed close to Cedric as you stepped down, not quite thinking about it, just following the steady presence beside you as a large voice called out for first years to gather.
The boat ride felt like something out of a story.
Lantern light flickered against the dark surface of the lake, reflecting in ripples as the small boats carried you across the water, the castle rising ahead of you in a way that made your breath catch without meaning to. It was enormousâfar bigger than anything your brothers had ever managed to describe properlyâand for a moment, everything else fell away.
You barely noticed how close you and Cedric were sitting until your shoulder brushed his again, the same way it had with Charlie earlier, only this time it didnât feel like something you needed for reassurance.
Neither of you said much, but you didnât really need to.
By the time you reached the castle, the noise returned all at onceâfootsteps echoing through stone corridors, voices bouncing off high ceilings, the shuffle of robes and the occasional nervous laugh breaking through the tension. You followed the line of students into the Great Hall, your gaze lifting almost immediately to the enchanted ceiling above, stars scattered across it like something impossibly real.
It was beautiful.
And overwhelming.
You barely had time to take it all in before the sorting began.
Names were called one by one, each student stepping forward to sit on the stool as the hat decided their place, the hall erupting into cheers with every announcement.
You stood among them, hands clasped tightly together, your attention flickering between the sorting stool and the tables, searching instinctively for familiar faces. It didnât take long to find themâBill sitting tall and relaxed, Percy already watching with keen focus, and Charlie leaning forward slightly, his attention fixed on you, giving you a little wave and a thumbs up when you caught his gaze.
You found yourself watching more than listening, your attention drifting untilâ
"Cedric Diggory."
Cedric stepped forward, looking just a little more serious than he had on the train, though there was still something steady about him, something calm as he sat on the stool and the hat was placed on his head. For a brief second, the hall went quiet.
Thenâ
âHufflepuff!â
The table to your right erupted into applause, loud and warm, and you felt yourself smiling without thinking, clapping along as Cedric pulled the hat off and stood. He glanced toward the crowd as he stepped down, scanning faces quicklyâ
And then he found you.
He smiled, bright and easy, lifting his hand in a small wave in your direction, like it was the most natural thing in the world to look for you in a room full of people.
You smiled back, returning the gesture without hesitation, something light settling in your chest.
Then he turned, heading toward his table, swallowed up by the group that welcomed him in.
The ceremony continued.
Untilâ
Your name.
It rang out across the hall, louder than you expected, and for a second, everything inside you seemed to go very, very still.
The walk to the stool felt longer than it should have, your footsteps echoing faintly in your ears as you climbed up and sat down, your hands curling slightly into the fabric of your robes. The hat was placed over your head, slipping down just enough to shadow your vision, and for a second, there was nothing but darkness and the sound of your own heartbeat.
It didnât take long.
âGryffindor!â
The word echoed, followed immediately by a burst of cheers from the table to your left, loud and familiar and impossible to mistake.
Relief hit you first.
Then something warmer.
You barely had time to take the hat off before you were being pulled forward, laughter and voices overlapping as you reached the table.
âThere she is!â
âAbout time!â
âAnother one for Gryffindorâbrilliant!â
Percy clapped for you as you joined the table, patting your shoulder with pride, Bill ruffled your hair before pressing a quick peck to the top of your head and Charlie enveloped you into a tight hug. You laughed, a little breathless, the sound spilling out of you before you could stop it as they crowded around you, hands on your shoulders, your back, your hairâsolid, familiar, overwhelming in the best way.
You settled into your seat, still adjusting to the new rhythm of the hall. Plates of food appeared with little fanfare, but everything seemed bigger, brighter, and somehow both familiar and completely new at the same time.
You barely noticed when a familiar blond head turned toward the Gryffindor table againâCedric, scanning for a glimpse of you before diving into his own group. You caught his eye just long enough to exchange a quick, almost shy smile.
You were just leaving the Great Hall on your way to class when you heard your name.
You slowed slightly, glancing over your shoulder just as someone stepped out of the stream of students moving past you.
Cedric Diggory.
You recognized him immediately, of course. You always did. Not because you sought him out, but because he was noticeable. There was hardly a girl in Hogwarts that didn't know of the Golden Boy Cedric Diggory.
You knew him, in the way that came from shared moments rather than shared timeâtrain rides years ago, the occasional passing conversation, a familiarity that never quite developed into friendship but lingered comfortably in between.
He offered you a small, polite smile when you stopped.
âHi.â He said when he reached you, slowing his pace to match yours as the two of you fell into step almost without thinking.
âHi,â You returned, a small flicker of curiosity settling in as you glanced at him, âEverything alright?â
âYeahâyeah, I justâŚâ He huffed a quiet breath, one hand lifting briefly to the back of his neck in a gesture that almost looked like nerves, though it didnât quite fit him.
âI was wondering if youâdâwell, if you needed a partner for Herbology. Professor Sprout mentioned weâd be pairing up for the next assignment, and I thoughtâŚâ He trailed off slightly, then smiled, a little more certain this time, âI thought Iâd ask before it got chaotic.â
For a second, you just looked at him.
Not because the question was strangeâit wasnâtâbut because it caught you slightly off guard. You werenât usually the person people sought out first, not for things like that, and there was something about the way he askedâstraightforward, but carefulâthat made it difficult to respond immediately.
âIâum,â You started, the beginning of an answer formingâ
And then you heard it.
Your name.
Again.
This time, it was not calm or measured or easy to miss.
It was strained, uneven, pulled tight with something dangerously close to panic.
You turned instinctively, your attention snapping toward the sound just in time to see Ron pushing his way through the corridor toward you, his face red, eyes glassy, shoulders tense like he was barely holding himself together.
He didnât even slow down when he reached youâdidnât say anything at all, reallyâjust collided into you with enough force to make you take a half-step back as his arms wrapped around you, his face burying itself into your shoulder.
And then he broke.
Not quietly, not subtlyâfull, shaking sobs that made his grip tighten as if letting go wasnât an option.
Any trace of hesitation vanished instantly.
Your entire focus shifted without a second thought, your arms coming up around him automatically as you steadied him, one hand moving to the back of his head in a familiar, grounding gesture.
âHeyâhey, whatâs wrong?â You asked softly, your voice dropping into something calmer, gentler, the kind of tone youâd used a hundred times before without even realizing it.
He tried to answer.
âIâsheâshe sentââ He tried, his voice thick and uneven.
Your brow furrowed slightly, âSlow down, I canât understand you.â
âAâHowlerââ He finally managed, the word coming out in a miserable wail.
And then it clicked.
Of course.
Despite yourself, you glanced up briefly, meeting Cedricâs gaze for just a second, and there was something shared thereâunderstanding, a flicker of quiet amusement that neither of you voiced but both clearly felt.
You looked back down at Ron, your expression softening again as you reached up to wipe at his cheeks, brushing away tears that didnât seem to stop coming.
âWell,â You said gently, not unkindly, âyou did steal and then wreck our car. I donât think you couldâve expected to get off with only a warning.â
That did not help.
If anything, it made him cling tighter, his voice muffled as he groaned into your shoulder, mortified all over again.
âShe didnât have to do it in front of everyone,â He mumbled, the words thick and miserable, âIt was so humiliatingâeveryone was looking at meââ
âI know,â You murmured, softer this time, shifting slightly so you could look at him properly, your hands steady as you wiped the rest of his tears away with your thumbs. âI know. That part wasnât very nice.â
He sniffed, shoulders still trembling, but the worst of it seemed to be passing now, the sharp edge of it dulling into something more manageable under the familiarity of your voice, your presence.
You hesitated for half a second, then smiled just a little.
âCome on,â You said, tilting your head toward the corridor, âLetâs go to the kitchens. I think you deserve something after that.â
He pulled back just enough to look at you, still blotchy and miserable, but already softening at the suggestion.
âOkay.â He muttered, nodding slightly.
You gave his shoulder a small squeeze before straightening, your hand lingering briefly at the back of his arm. Then, as you turned to leave with him, you glanced back at Cedric, your expression apologetic as you mouthed a silent sorry.
He just shook his head, the corner of his mouth lifting in quiet amusement, like he had expected something along these lines from the moment your brother appeared.
âItâs fine,â He said lightly, though you were already half-turned away, âWeâll figure it out later.â
Professor Sprout, in the end, did assign partners.
Efficiently, without hesitation, and with absolutely no regard for any quiet arrangements that might have been attempted beforehand. By the time you arrived for the lesson, names were already being called, pairs already being formed, and whatever Cedric had been hoping for dissolved into something unspoken and irrelevant before either of you had the chance to bring it up again.
You ended up with someone from your houseâpleasant enough, focused, not particularly talkativeâand the lesson passed without incident.
Still, you noticed.
Not in any obvious way, not in a way that lingered too long, but just enough to register the brief glance Cedric gave you from across the greenhouse when the pairings were announced, the small, almost amused exhale that followed before he turned his attention back to his own partner.
It wasnât disappointment, exactly.
Just something that could have been something else.
And then it passed.
Or at least, it should have.
A few days later, you found yourself alone againâor as alone as one could be in a castle like Hogwartsâstanding just outside one of the quieter corridors near the courtyard, adjusting the strap of your bag as you mentally sorted through the next part of your day.
The air was cooler there, the noise of passing students softened by distance, and for a moment, it felt like a pause between everything else.
âHey.â
Cedric stood a few steps away, hands tucked loosely into his pockets, his expression easy but just slightly more deliberate than usual, like he had made the decision to be there rather than simply ending up there by chance.
âHi.â You said, a hint of recognition slipping into your tone now, something warmer than before.
He stepped a little closer, glancing briefly down the corridor before looking back at you. âI was going to askââ He started, then paused, as if reconsidering his wording, âDid you understand the last bit of the Transfiguration homework? The part about switching incantations mid-cast. I was looking over it earlier andââ
It was a better excuse this time.
Though you were questioning why Golden Boy was asking you instead of literally anyone else. It wasn't like he had a shortage of people who were willing to give an arm and a leg to help him.
You opened your mouth to answer, already shifting into the conversationâ
And thenâ
"(Y/N)!"
The voice was sharp, urgent, and far too familiar.
You turned immediately, your attention snapping toward the sound just as Ginny appeared at the end of the corridor, her steps quick and uneven, her expression caught somewhere between panic and embarrassment in a way that made your stomach drop before she even reached you.
With her bright red hair half-falling loose from its tie, her Gryffindor robes swaying around her, and the deep flush spreading across her face, she lookedârather unhelpfullyâlike a blur of red rushing straight toward you.
She didnât slow down.
âCan I talk to you?â She blurted the second she was close enough, her voice lowered but no less frantic for it, her hands hovering awkwardly at her sides like she didnât know what to do with them.
You didnât even think about it.
âOf course,â You said instantly, your tone shifting the same way it always did, steady and grounding as you stepped toward her, your focus narrowing completely, âWhatâs wrong?â
Ginny glanced briefly past youâjust enough to notice Cedric standing thereâbefore leaning in closer, her voice dropping to a whisper that still carried urgency, "In private."
Your eyes racked over her body before they landed on the jacket that she had tied around her waist.
âOh.â You said softly, not startled, not alarmedâjust calm. Understanding. Immediate.
Ginnyâs hands clenched slightly at the fabric of her sleeves. âI didnât knowâit justâI donât know what to do.â She rushed out, her words tumbling over each other now that sheâd started, the embarrassment catching up with her all at once.
âItâs okay,â You said quickly, reaching out to steady her, your voice lowering just enough to keep it between the two of you, âItâs alright, Gin. It happens.â
She shook her head, mortified, "A boy from Ravenclaw sawâI'm so embarrassed."
âIâve got you,â You interrupted gently, already guiding her to turn slightly, positioning yourself just enough to shield her from the open corridor without making it obvious, âDonât worry about it, okay? Weâll fix it.â
Behind you, Cedric hadnât moved.
Hadnât interrupted.
But you were aware of him in that distant way you became aware of anything you had to leave unfinished, the conversation that had barely begun already slipping out of reach.
You glanced back at him briefly, just enough to catch his eye, your expression apologetic in a way that felt almost familiar now.
He didnât even look surprised.
If anything, there was something faintly amused in the way he exhaled, the smallest shake of his head following like heâd already accepted how this was going to go.
âGo,â He said lightly, one corner of his mouth lifting, âI think this might be more important than Transfiguration.â
You let out a quiet breath that might have been a laugh under different circumstances, nodding once in thanks before turning your attention fully back to Ginny, your hand settling at her arm in a reassuring squeeze.
âCome on,â you murmured, already guiding her down the corridor, your voice soft but certain. âWeâll go to the dormitories first, alright? Iâll help you.â
She nodded quickly, still flustered but clearly relieved, her steps falling into place beside yours as you led her away.
You gave one last glance to Cedric, "I can ask Percy to share some of his notes with you?"
He nodded, a smile on his face.
He didn't really have the heart to tell you that the homework was already complete.
By the time the castle began to settle again, you didnât feel like celebrating.
Everyone else did.
The relief had come quickly, spreading through the corridors like wildfire the moment the truth was outâGinny was safe, Ron was safe, the attacks were over, and whatever had been lurking in the shadows of Hogwarts had finally been dealt with.
There was laughter again, louder than before, conversations filled with retellings and exaggerations and a kind of excitement that only came from surviving something no one had fully understood in the first place.
You couldnât quite bring yourself to join in.
Because every time someone said her nameâevery time someone mentioned what had happened, what she had gone through, what she had almostâ
All you could think was:
You hadnât known.
Not once.
Not when she was quieter than usual, not when she seemed distracted, not when something in her felt⌠off. You had been there. Right there. Watching, talking, helping with everything that didnât matterâ
And somehow you missed the one thing that did.
So instead of staying in the common room, instead of letting yourself be pulled into the relief of it all, you slipped away.
Down familiar corridors, past the places you knew wouldnât be crowded, until you reached the kitchens. It wasnât long before you found yourself sitting at the long wooden table with a mug of hot chocolate cradled between your hands, the warmth of it seeping into your skin in a way that should have been comforting.
It wasnât.
You stared down into it instead, watching the faint swirl of steam rise and disappear, your grip tightening slightly around the ceramic as everything youâd been holding back finally began to surface.
It was stupid, really.
Your siblings were safe.
That was all that should have mattered.
And it didâof course it didâbut it didnât erase the rest of it, didnât quiet the heavy, twisting feeling sitting in your chest, the one that kept circling back to the same thought over and over again.
You should've noticed. You should've known.
Your vision blurred before you realized you were crying, the first tear slipping down before you had the chance to stop it, followed by another, and then another until it became harder to pretend you were in control of it.
You ducked your head slightly, one hand coming up to press against your eyes as if that might be enough to hold it back.
You were her older sister.
That was supposed to mean something.
It was supposed to mean you noticed when things were wrong.
It was supposed to mean she came to you.
Like how you would go to your older brothers.
The sound of the door opening barely registered at first, slipping into the background of everything else, until the faint shift in the roomâthe subtle change in movement, in presenceâpulled your attention up just enough to break through your thoughts.
You didnât look up immediately.
Not until they stopped near your table.
âHey.â
The voice was familiar.
You blinked, the world coming back into focus in slow pieces as you lifted your head, your eyes landing on Cedric where he stood a few steps away, his expression softer than youâd ever seen it, something careful in the way he looked at you like he already knew heâd found you at a bad moment.
For a second, neither of you said anything.
Then you let out a quiet breath that didnât quite steady, your gaze dropping back down to your mug as your fingers tightened slightly around it.
âHi.â You managed, your voice quieter than usual, roughened at the edges in a way you didnât bother trying to hide.
He didnât ask to sit.
He just did, pulling out the chair across from you with a quiet scrape and lowering himself into it like he intended to stay this time, like he wasnât going to be interrupted or pulled away or left with half a conversation again.
âI didnât see you at dinner.â He said after a moment, not accusing, not even questioningâjust stating it gently, like an opening rather than a demand.
You huffed a soft, humorless breath at that, your lips pressing together briefly as you shook your head.
âI wasnât hungry.â You said, which wasnât entirely untrue.
Silence settled again, but it wasnât uncomfortable.
Cedric didnât rush to fill it, didnât push, didnât try to steer you anywhere you werenât ready to go. He just sat there, patient in a way that made it easier to exist in the quiet rather than feel like you had to escape it.
And somehow, that made it harder to hold everything in.
âI justââ you started, then stopped, your grip tightening slightly around the mug as your gaze fixed somewhere just past it. âI feel like such a bad older sister.â
The words came out quieter than you expected, but once they were there, they didnât stop.
âI had no idea,â You continued, your voice wavering just enough to give you away, âI didnât know she was struggling like that, I didnât know she wasnât talking to anyone, I didnâtââ
You swallowed, blinking quickly as the pressure behind your eyes built again, âShe had to turn to some stupid, sentient journal with the conscience of the bloody dark lord to talk about things. About feelings. About boys.â
"Your her sister. Not a mind reader. Ginny knows how much you love her. No one expects you to know what's going on with your siblings all the time."
You didnât respond right away.
Your gaze dropped again, your thoughts shifting, not goneânot fixedâbut nudged, just slightly, out of the spiral theyâd been stuck in.
After a moment, your shoulders sank just a fraction, some of the tension easing in a way you hadnât realized youâd been holding.
âI still shouldâve been better.â You murmured.
âSheâs okay now,â He added after a moment, "That's all that matters."
The hospital wing smelled faintly of disinfectant and something sweet, probably from Madam Pomfreyâs constant efforts to make it more welcoming. The low hum of worry and whispered conversation filled the air, punctuated by the occasional clatter of a tray or the soft footfalls of nurses.
Harry lay in bed, pale and bruised, one arm still in a sling and a bandage running along the back of his head. His eyes were closed when you entered with Ron and Hermione, though you could see the tightness around his jaw even from a distance, the way his body refused to fully relax.
Cedric was already there, standing near the foot of the bed, hands loosely clasped in front of him. His expression was a mixture of concern and that quiet, composed kindness that seemed to follow him everywhere. The rest of the Quidditch team lingered nearby, some leaning against walls, others sitting on chairs, their chatter subdued in the presence of the hospital wingâs calm authority.
You made your way forward, letting your eyes meet Cedricâs briefly. There was an unspoken acknowledgment there, a quiet thread of familiarity that had been building for yearsâthe kind that didnât need words. He smiled softly, and you returned it with one of your own, both of you sharing a moment of warmth amidst the tension.
âIâuhâhow are you feeling?â Cedric asked, stepping slightly closer to Harryâs bedside. His voice was gentle, careful, like he was trying to tread without adding any more worry.
Harry groaned softly, opening one eye, but his voice came out a little hoarse, âI fell off my broom. I think that says it all.â
Cedricâs expression tightened just a little, a flicker of guilt crossing his features, though he quickly masked it with his usual calm demeanor. He glanced at Oliver, who was hovering nearby, arms crossed, and then back at Harry.
"The dementors clearly interfered with the game, Hufflepuff has agreed to a rematch."
âNo,â Oliver said flatly, âHufflepuff won fair and square, we refuse.â
Cedricâs shoulders slumped fractionally, but he kept his gaze on Harry. When his eyes flicked toward you, though, there was a quiet softness there, a flicker of amusement and admiration all at once. You smiled at him, a small, fond curve of your lips. He looked so earnest, so sweet, offering a rematch even though heâd been the one to win.
âDonât worry about it.â You murmured under your breath, letting the warmth in your smile reach him.
Then, inevitably, the calm shattered.
Fred and George, never ones to miss an opportunity, had clearly been lingering nearby, and their grins were impossible to miss even from across the room. âOi, Harry,â George called softly, leaning against the wall, âyou saw the Grim in Divination, didnât you? Thatâs never goodâŚâ
âYeah!â George added, elbowing him lightly, âBetter start making friends in the afterlife! Any last words, mate?â
Hermione groaned, burying her face in her hands. Ronâs jaw tightened, though he didnât speak. Harryâs eyes were already narrowing, more in irritation than fear, though there was a small twitch in his shoulder that betrayed his nerves.
You didnât even pause. âForge!â You snapped, your voice cutting through the murmurs like a whip. Both twins froze mid-smirk, turning toward you, and for a moment, the entire room seemed to hold its breath.
Fred and George exchanged a glance, then slowly sank back, their amusement dampened under your gaze. They muttered under their breath but said nothing more, clearly smart enough to know the game was upâfor now.
Cedric blinked at you, clearly caught off guard, and then tilted his head slightly, one brow raised in curiosity.
âForge?â He asked quietly, amusement lacing his tone.
âWith the amount of trouble these two get into,â You sighed, âitâs easier just to call them by one name.â
The courtyard was quieter than usual.
Not emptyâHogwarts was never truly emptyâbut quieter in the way it always was toward the end of the year. Most students were either shut away in their common rooms or the library, scrambling to finish the assignments they had put off for far too long, or sprawled outside, taking advantage of the rare stretch of warm sunlight.
Students lingered in smaller groups, scattered across benches and steps, their voices softer, their conversations unhurried. The air had finally warmed, sunlight spilling over the stone and settling into something almost comfortable.
You sat on the low wall near the fountain, one leg tucked slightly beneath you, your bag resting at your side as you absently traced your finger along the edge of your sleeve.
Cedric stood nearby at first, lingering just long enough to make it seem unintentional beforeâafter a momentâs hesitationâhe sat beside you, close enough that your shoulders almost brushed.
âDone with everything?â He asked, glancing over at you.
âMostly,â You said, exhaling softly, âI think Iâve got one more essay left for Transfiguration, but Iâm pretending it doesnât exist for now.â
He huffed a quiet laugh at that, his head dipping slightly, âThatâs probably for the best.â
A small silence followed and you tilted your head slightly, glancing at him, âWhat about you?â
âFinished.â He said, though there was a faint hesitation behind it, like his attention wasnât fully on the answer. His fingers tapped lightly against his knee, once, twiceârestless in a way you didnât usually see from him.
ââŚEverything alright?â You asked, softer now, your gaze lingering on him just a second longer.
Cedric let out a breath, something shifting in his expressionâsomething more uncertain than you were used to. He glanced at you, then away again, like he was trying to find the right words.
âYeah, I justââ He started, then stopped, his hand lifting briefly to the back of his neck.
âI was wondering if youââ He tried again, his voice quieter now, more deliberate, âif you might want toââ
âMiss Weasley.â
The voice cut cleanly through the moment.
You both turned immediately.
Professor McGonagall stood a few steps away, her posture as straight as ever, her expression composedâbut there was something in her eyes, something that made your stomach drop before she even spoke again.
You were already on your feet before you realized it.
âYes, Professor?â
âOne of your brothers has been taken to the hospital wing.â
The words landed all at once.
Your breath caught. âWhatâ?â You took a step forward instinctively, your mind already racing ahead of you, âWhich one?â
âRonald.â
You stared at her for half a second.
Thenâdespite everything, despite the concern already tightening in your chestâyour shoulders dropped just slightly, disbelief slipping in around the edges.
ââŚAgain?â You said, the word coming out before you could stop it.
McGonagallâs lips pressed together, though whether she was suppressing a sigh or a comment, you couldnât quite tell.
You ran a hand over your face briefly, already turning on your heel.
âWhy is it always those three?â You muttered under your breath, more to yourself than anyone else, exasperation bleeding into the worry, âHonestly, I leave them alone for five minutes...â
Cedric immediately fell into step beside you, his usual composure giving way to concern, though his hands stayed in his pockets, tight against himself as if holding on to some semblance of control.
âYouâdo you need me to come with you?â He asked quietly, looking at you with that soft, careful gaze he always reserved for moments like this.
You shook your head. âNo⌠no, Iâve got this.â But your pace quickened, Cedric matching you effortlessly.
As you hurried down the familiar corridors, the casual moment that had been buildingâthe one where Cedric was clearly about to ask you to Hogsmeadeâslipped just out of reach. Instead, the urgency of the hospital wing, the thought of Ron writhing in pain, took over.
âYou were going to ask me something...â You said quietly, almost to yourself, stealing a glance at Cedric. His lips twitched, a small, embarrassed smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.
âYeahâŚâ He murmured, the words trailing off as his gaze flicked toward you, âWeâll have to⌠save that for another day.â
The doors to the Hospital Wing swung open with more force than strictly necessary, your steps quick and purposeful as your eyes immediately scanned the room.
It didnât take long to find him.
Ron was propped up in one of the beds, his leg elevated and wrapped, hair a mess, freckles standing out starkly against skin that was just a little too paleâbut he was awake. Talking. Complaining, probably.
Alive.
Your shoulders dropped slightly, relief hitting first, sharp and immediate.
And thenâ
âRonald Bilius Weasley!â
Ron startled so hard he nearly knocked his own pillow over. His eyes went wide the second he saw you, pure instinct kicking in before anything else.
âIt wasnât my fault!â He blurted immediately, sitting up straighter despite the clear pain it caused, âScabbers was Peter Pettigrew and he framed Sirius Black!â
You stopped mid-step.
ââŚwhat?â
The path had long since stopped resembling anything civilized.
What had started as something that could vaguely pass as a trail had quickly dissolved into uneven ground, overgrown roots, and branches that seemed determined to catch on your sleeves at every opportunity.
You stepped over yet another fallen log with a quiet huff, brushing leaves from your skirt as you glanced ahead.
âDad,â Ron called from somewhere behind you, already sounding tired, âwhere exactly are we going?â
âSomewhere in this direction.â Your father replied cheerfully, not slowing in the slightest.
âThatâs not very reassuring.â Hermione muttered.
Fred snorted, âHe hasnât the faintest clue, has he?â
âI heard that,â Your father said mildly, âAnd Iâd like to remind you that I am leading us to the Quidditch World Cup.â
âEventually.â George added.
You huffed a quiet laugh, adjusting the strap of your bag as you stepped over a particularly stubborn root, your shoulder brushing lightly against Ginnyâs.
âDo you actually know where the portkey is?â You asked, glancing at your father.
âHavenât the foggiest!â He admitted, cheerfully.
A chorus of groans followed immediately.
Fred and George exchanged a look, Ron muttered something under his breath about typical, and Ginny let out a dramatic sigh as she trudged forward.
Harry and Hermione, walking just behind you, shared a glance that was somewhere between amusement and mild concern.
The group pressed on, the forest thick around you, the sound of footsteps and rustling leaves filling the space between conversations. Just as you were beginning to think your earlier comment might actually be correctâ
âAh! There we are!â
Your fatherâs voice lit up with sudden triumph, and you looked up just in time to see him veering slightly off the path toward a large tree.
A man stood beneath it, broad and sturdy, holding onto several bags that looked far too heavy to be carried comfortably.
âAmos!â Your father greeted warmly, striding forward, âGood to see you!â
âArthur!â The manâAmosâreturned just as enthusiastically, shifting the bags in his grip as the two men shook hands.
The rest of you filtered in behind, and introductions began almost immediately.
âThis is my family!â
Names were exchanged, greetings offered, and you stepped forward when it was your turn, offering a polite smile.
You offered a polite smile, âItâs nice to meet you.â
âAnd you, my dear.â He said warmly.
Your gaze flicked briefly to the bags near his feet, and before you could think twice about it, you stepped forward slightly.
âCan I help you with any of those?â You asked.
Amos blinked at you, clearly charmed. âArenât you sweet, love? No, noâitâs quite alright.â He waved a hand dismissively before adding, with a touch of amused exasperation, âMy son should be carrying them anyway.â
There was a beat.
Thenâ
A sudden rustle overhead.
Before you could even react, something dropped from the tree above with a solid thud, landing just a few feet away.
You startled sharply, stepping back on instinct, your heart jumping into your throatâ
Only to be met with a very familiar face.
Cedric Diggory straightened from where heâd landed, brushing a bit of dirt from his sleeves like this was a completely normal entrance.
âSorry.â He said, not sounding sorry at all.
Your father lit up immediately, âAnd this strapping young lad must be Cedric!â
Cedric smiled, polite and composed as ever, âYes, sir.â
But then his eyes flicked to you. There was a glint of amusement there, a teasing curve to his mouth as he clearly clocked the way youâd jumped.
You told yourself the increase heartrate was because of the fright.
The world snapped back into place all at once.
Your feet hit solid ground, though not gracefully, and for a moment everything spunâwind in your ears, the taste of dust in your mouth, your grip still locked tight around the portkey like letting go might send you flying again.
And thenâ
Stillness.
Grass beneath your boots. Voices. The distant roar of something massive in the distance.
You let go.
Around you, everyone else was doing the sameâstumbling, coughing, untangling themselves from one another in various states of disarray.
âUghââ Ron groaned somewhere to your left.
âI hate portkeys.â Hermione muttered, pushing her hair out of her face.
Harry, however, was glaring at you.
âYou didnât have to push my face into the manky old boot.â He whined, wiping at his cheek.
You turned your head, already narrowing your eyes as he pushed himself up from the ground, brushing at his glasses in mild offense.
âI told you to grab the boot,â You shot back without missing a beat, âTwice.â
âI was going to grab it!â
âYou werenât.â You said flatly.
âI wasâ!â
âWould you rather weâd just left you there?â
He opened his mouth, then paused, ââŚokay, but you still didnât have to shove me.â
Behind you, Cedric chuckled, falling into step with you quite easily as your joint families began the trek towards the tents.
âNever a day off, huh?â He said lightly, amusement warm in his voice.
You blinked at him for a second, slightly puzzled by the comment, like you hadnât quite realized what youâd just done.
âWhat?â You asked.
He gestured vaguely between you and Harry, his smile widening just a fraction. âYou,â He said simply, âAnd your tornado of siblings.â
You huffed a quiet breath, glancing away for a second as your fatherâs voice called out ahead, already moving everyone along toward the tents, "They're a circus."
Cedric laughed softly under his breath, falling into step beside you as the group began moving forward, the field stretching out ahead, dotted with tents that grew more and more elaborate the further you walked.
For a moment, things settledâjust walking, the distant buzz of the World Cup crowd building in the background, the aftermath of the portkey fading into something almost normal.
Cedric glanced at you again. âSoââ He started, clearly picking up a conversation heâd been trying to have earlier, âaboutââ
ââCharlie! Bill!â
You didnât even realize youâd cut him off until it was too late.
The second you spotted themâtwo familiar figures standing just outside one of the tentsâyou were already moving.
Charlie barely had time to react before you collided into him, your arms wrapping tightly around him as he laughed, catching you easily and lifting you slightly off the ground.
âThere she is!â He said, his voice full of warmth.
âHi!â You breathed, grinning as you pulled back just enough to look at him properly before immediately leaning into Bill next, who didnât hesitate to wrap an arm around you, pressing a quick kiss to the top of your head.
âMissed us that much?â Bill teased.
âNot at all.â You shot back, though your smile gave you away.
âWell, well, well,â Fred began, spinning around to step in front of you, hands on his hips like the self-appointed announcer of the world, âlook at this! Some would think you donât like the rest of your siblings at all!â
âI donât.â You said, perfectly deadpan.
Behind you, the rest of your family caught up quickly, voices overlapping, greetings loud and chaotic as always.
Cedric slowed a few steps back, watching the scene unfold with a small smile on his face.
The tents were set, your parents occupied somewhere deeper in the campsite, and your siblings had already scatteredâsome exploring, some arguing, some undoubtedly causing problems.
You were just stepping out from your familyâs tent when you spotted him again.
Cedric.
He was making his way over, hands tucked loosely into his pockets, posture relaxed but purposefulâlike he knew exactly where he was going.
Your stomach did that annoying little flip it had started doing around him lately.
You ignored it.
âWell then,â Bill said, straightening slightly as Cedric came to a stop beside you. His tone was light, but there was something amused behind it, âWhoâs this?â
You opened your mouth to answerâ
But of course, he wasnât finished.
âWeâve got a lot of siblings,â Bill continued thoughtfully, glancing Cedric up and down as if assessing him, âbut I think Iâd remember if Mum had another one.â
You rolled your eyes immediately, âOh, shut up.â
Charlie snorted beside him, arms loosely crossed, watching the interaction with easy curiosity.
You gestured between them. âCedric, this is Bill,â You nodded toward your older brother, âAnd thatâs Charlie.â
Cedric straightened slightly, recognition settling in almost instantly.
âYou need no introduction,â He said, a small, genuine smile forming, âYouâre a legend. Best Seeker Gryffindorâs had in years.â
Charlie blinked onceâ
Then broke into a grin.
âOh, I like you,â He said immediately, stepping forward and clapping Cedric firmly on the shoulder, jostling him slightly, âDiggory, right?â
Cedric laughed under his breath, steadying himself, âYeah.â
âKnew I did,â Charlie nodded, as if this confirmed everything, âBloke with a good head on his shoulders.â
You sighed, already knowing where this was going, âFlattery will get you everywhere with him.â
Cedricâs laugh softened as he glanced at you briefly, something warm flickering there before he looked back at Charlie, âIâve heard a lot about you.â
âOnly the good things, I hope.â Charlie grinned.
âDebatable.â You cut in dryly.
Bill let out a low chuckle at that, clearly enjoying himself as the four of you fell into easy conversation. It wasnât anything particularly seriousâjust small talk, Quidditch, the World Cup. There was laughter and teasing, but nothing too seriousâjust the kind of light, easy back-and-forth that made Cedricâs presence feel completely natural, like heâd always belonged in these small moments with your family.
And every now and then, you caught him glancing at you.
Thenâ
â(Y/N)!â
Ginnyâs voice rang out across the campsite.
You closed your eyes briefly.
"Can you braid my hair?! I want Dutch braids!"
You let out a long, suffering sigh, already pushing yourself to your feet, âDuty calls.â
Charlie laughed immediately, loud and unhelpful.
âLaugh it up,â You said over your shoulder, glancing back at him, âItâll be you next.â
He scoffed, completely unbothered, âPlease. I already did my time with you.â
Cedric, who had been watching the exchange with quiet amusement, tilted his head slightly, âDid you?â
That was all it took.
âOh, yes,â Charlie said eagerly, clearly delighted to have the chance to embarrass you in front of someone else for once, âYou have no ideaâshe used to cling to me all the time when she was little. Every time I tried to go out with the lads, there sheâd be, bawling her eyes out on the doorstep because she didnât want me to go.â
You winced, covering your face for a moment, but Charlie wasnât done.
âAnd there was this rule,â He continued, voice full of mock seriousness, âif I wanted to play Quidditch, I had to put her down for a nap first. Otherwise she would cry the entire game, thinking Iâd get hurt on my broom. Every. Single. Time.â
Cedric laughed, genuinely this time, leaning slightly forward like he was savoring every embarrassing detail, âThatâs actually kind of adorable.â
You blinked, heat rushing to your cheeks. âWell excuse me,â You said sharply, âfor loving my older brother! I shall never do such an unsavory thing again.â
With that, you stormed off toward Ginny, leaving Charlie and Bill doubled over in laughter behind you.
The Great Hall was far more somber than usual. The tables had been cleared, and the usual magical sky that lit up the room with sparkling stars was gone, leaving the Goblet of Fire in the center of the hall as the sole source of light, bathing everything in a delicate, almost eerie blue glow.
You inwardly wished you had gotten to the hall before your brothers had downed the aging potionâif you had, you would have smacked them so hard they might think twice before attempting something so dimwitted.
Unfortunately, it seemed you had arrived just a few minutes too late. Fred and George had ignored Hermioneâs warnings entirely and were now rolling on the floor, bickering like childrenâor rather, old men, considering they looked every bit their great-grandfathers, complete with wrinkles, grey hair, and a beard to match.
You pinched the bridge of your nose and let out a long sigh, stepping forward, âForge! Seriously?!â
They barely noticed, bickering and rolling against each other as if you werenât even there. You crouched quickly, yanking their ears in opposite directions to separate them.
âOw! Hey!â Fred yelped, squirming.
âOi! Thatâs cheating!â George shouted, flailing.
âI donât care!â You snapped, straightening and glaring at them both, âStop it. Right now.â
They froze, glancing up at you with sheepish grins, like they might actually apologize. But, of course, it didnât last.
âYou could sign up,â Fred said casually, tilting his head with a mischievous glint in his eye, âsince youâre seventeen. You couldââ
âAbsolutely not.â You interrupted firmly. âI am not going to do something as moronic as sign up for a death wish.â
âHarsh.â Came the teasing voice beside you.
You turned, and there he was: Cedric Diggory, hands tucked casually into his pockets, looking absolutely soaked to the bone like he had just gotten caught in the rain.
âYou wound me, Weasley.â He said, voice light but carrying that teasing edge youâd learned to expect from him.
You frowned, concern quickly replacing your irritation, âYouâd better hope your name doesnât get pulled, Cedric. The tasks are dangerous. This whole thing is imbecilic.â
âIf Iâm not mistaken,â He said softly, voice dropping just enough to make your stomach flip, âIâd say you were worried about me.â
âWorried the Yule Ball is going to get canceled on account of a funeral, more like it.â You muttered, rolling your eyes.
âSuch little faith,â He said, voice lowering in a way that made your pulse skip, âButâuh, speaking of the Yule BallâI was wondering⌠maybe youâd like toââ
Before he could finish, the doors of the Great Hall burst open with a dramatic crash, drawing every eye in the room. The tallest, broadest figure youâd ever seen strode in: Viktor Krum.
All conversation ceased instantly. Every student froze, eyes widening, as the Bulgarian Quidditch star made his way confidently to the center of the hall, robes sweeping the floor with every step.
He passed the line, reached the Goblet of Fire, and placed his name inside, sparing only a brief glance at Hermione as he did. You tilted your head, watching the interaction between them with quiet curiosity.
He withdrew his hand, and the hall erupted into cheers, the excitement and tension washing over the room. Just like that, Cedricâs questionâand the small, promising moment between youâwas swept away.
The stands were packed.
The noise was overwhelmingâcheering, shouting, the low hum of anticipation vibrating through the airâbut it all felt distant to you, muffled behind the rapid thud of your own heartbeat.
Because down belowâ
Cedric was stepping into the arena.
You didnât realize your hands had clenched until your nails bit into your palms, your breath catching as the gates opened and the dragon came into view.
It was massive.
Far bigger than youâd imagined, scales glinting in the light, smoke curling from its nostrils as it shifted, wings twitching with barely-contained power. You brought your hands up almost immediately, fingers splaying just enough so you could barely see through them.
âIâm not watching,â You said, even as your eyes stayed fixed between the gaps, âIâm not watchingââ
The dragon roared.
You flinched.
ââIâm watching.â
Around you, people were shouting, gasping, reacting to every movementâbut you were locked in on him. Every dodge, every spell, every second he got just a little too closeâ
Your stomach dropped.
âCedricââ You whispered under your breath, like he could somehow hear you.
And thenâ
It was over.
The egg was in his hands.
The stands erupted.
You didnât even realize you were moving until you were already pushing through the crowd, down the steps, heart still racing as the adrenaline hadnât quite faded yet. By the time you reached him, he was being ushered toward the edge of the arena, healers already moving in.
You waited until he was back in the privacy of his tent to approach, lest that cow Skeeter see you and decide to write some longwinded lie about how Cedric was madly in love with you.
Cedric blinked, slightly breathless, a little flushed from the heat and effortâbut when he saw you, something in his expression softened instantly.
âWell, hello to you too.â He said, voice light despite the situation.
âYouâre burned,â You said panicked, ignoring him completely as your fingers brushed carefully along his jaw, already assessing the damage, the skin under your touch began to get remarkably redder and you felt your heart clench, "I told you this was a horrible idea, Cedric."
He huffed a quiet laugh but didnât stop you as you continued to check him over. The burn wasnât terribleâbut it was enough. Enough to make your chest tighten just looking at it.
âYou couldâve been seriously hurt.â You muttered, quieter now, more to yourself than him.
Cedricâs gaze flickered over your face, something softer settling there.
âBut I wasnât.â He said gently.
You didnât respond right away, finishing what you were doing before stepping back slightly, your shoulders relaxing just a fraction now that he wasârelativelyâfine.
ââŚYou did well." You said finally, meeting his eyes.
A small smile tugged at his lips, âYeah?â
âYeah,â You nodded, âI mean, it was still a completely idiotic thing to sign up forâbut you did well.â
He laughed softly, âIâll take that as high praise, coming from you.â
There was a beat.
The noise of the crowd carried on around you, distant again, like the two of you had been momentarily carved out of it.
Cedric shifted slightly, like he was working up to something again.
"Soâabout the ballâ" He started, a little more confident this time, a little more certain now that he had your full attention.
But before he actually got the words outâ
A roar of cheers erupted behind you.
Louder than before.
You turned instinctively, just in time to see Harry enter the arena.
âOhââ
Your attention snapped away immediately, your head turning fully now, your focus shifting as the crowd surged with excitement again.
âHarry!â You called, already stepping forward slightly, completely pulled into the moment.
Cedric blinked.
Then looked between you and the arena.
Then back at you.
And laughed.
âWell,â He said, shaking his head slightly, a grin pulling at his lips, âway to make a guy feel jealous.â
You glanced back at him, only half-processing what heâd said, still caught up in the adrenaline of it all, âWhat?â
But he just smiled, stepping back slightly, giving you space as your attention stayed fixed on Harry now.
âNothing,â He said easily, âGo on.â
The noise from the arena hadnât quite faded yet.
Students were still talking over each other, replaying every moment of the task like theyâd all personally been down there facing dragons instead of watching safely from the stands. The air felt charged, buzzing with adrenaline that hadnât settled, and even as you stepped away from it all, your heart still hadnât quite slowed.
You barely made it past the outer edge of the enclosure before a familiar voice cut through the chaosâ
âWell, that was something, wasnât it?â
You froze.
Your head snapped up so fast it almost hurt.
Noâ
There was no wayâ
But there he was.
Leaning casually against one of the wooden barriers, arms crossed, looking far too pleased with himself.
âCharlie?â
The word left you half in disbelief, half in something brighterâsomething immediate.
His grin widened.
And that was all it took.
You didnât thinkâyou just moved.
âCharlie!â
You practically launched yourself at him, arms wrapping tightly around his middle as he laughed, already bracing for the impact, catching you easily like he always did.
âYou didnât tell me you were coming!â You said, pulling back just enough to look at him properly, hands still gripping his sleeves like he might disappear if you let go, âI canât believe youâre here.â
"I couldn't tell you because I'm here for work, love. Someoneâs got to handle the dragons.â
You blinked.
ââŚYou brought them?â
Charlie grinned, clearly proud of that, âCourse I did.â
"Couldn't you have brought slightly friendlier ones?"
He laughed, "These are the friendlier ones."
The corridors between classes were always busy, but there was a different kind of chaos that came with a castle full of students anticipating something like the Yule Ball.
Voices echoed off the stone walls, laughter bouncing between groups, whispers slipping through in quick burstsâwho was going with who, who had already been asked, who was still waiting. Last you heard, Harry was going with Cho, Fred had somehow managed to land Angelina without even properly asking her, and Ron had spectacularly failed every attempt heâd made, growing more miserable by the hour.
You were halfway to your next class, books tucked under your arm, your mind only half on where you were going, when you felt itâthat familiar presence falling into step beside you.
You didnât need to look.
âYou really shouldnât be all alone in these halls,â Cedricâs voice came, light and easy, threaded with amusement, âWho knows what kind of danger could be lurking?â
You glanced over anyway, already fighting the small smile tugging at your lips. âYouâre right,â You said, nodding thoughtfully, âWho knows when Professor Moody will jump out and turn me into a ferret. I was hoping someone would come rescue me.â
âLucky day, then.â He said, matching your pace effortlessly, his shoulder brushing yours just slightly as the two of you navigated the crowd.
For a moment, it was easyâjust walking, just talking, the noise of the corridor fading into something distant.
Cedric cleared his throat quietly.
âSoâabout the Yule Ball.â He started, and there was something different this time. Something less certain, less practiced.
You raised a brow, glancing at him, âWhat about it?â
âWell, I was thinkingââ He began, and for once, Cedric Diggory actually sounded unsure of himself. His hand lifted slightly, like he meant to gesture, then dropped again, âI was wondering if maybe youâdââ
â(Y/N)!â
Ginnyâs voice cut through everything like a blade.
You barely had time to react before she came rushing toward you, slightly out of breath, clutching a bundle of fabric in her arms like it had personally offended her.
âLook at this,â She said urgently, shoving the material up between you and Cedric without warning, âLook at it!â
You blinked, instinctively taking a step back as she held up what could only be described as⌠a dress.
A very old dress.
âGinnyââ
âItâs ghastly!â She insisted, shaking it for emphasis, lace and sleeves flopping dramatically, âHow am I supposed to wear something that looks like it came from the 1700s and not die of embarrassment?â
Cedric, who had been mid-sentence only seconds ago, pausedâbut to his credit, he recovered quickly.
He leaned in slightly, examining the dress with surprising seriousness, like this was now his responsibility. âItâs⌠not too bad.â He offered carefully.
Ginny stared at him like heâd just committed a personal betrayal.
âTheyâre ghastly!â She repeated, louder this time, as if volume alone would prove her point.
You let out a soft laugh despite yourself, reaching out to steady the fabric before she accidentally smacked someone with it. âAlright, alright,â You said, amused, âWhat exactly do you want me to do about it?â
Ginny lowered the dress slightly, her expression changing from panic to pleading, âRon told me youâre altering his dress robes,â She said quickly, âCan you do mine too?â
You hesitated, glancing down at the dress, already mentally deconstructing itâtoo much fabric, outdated cut, sleeves that needed saving or removing entirely. âI mean⌠Iâm not a professional,â You admitted, âBut Iâve gotten pretty good over the years.â
Ginny perked up instantly, âReally?â
You nodded, shifting your books slightly under your arm. âMum used to buy me these ridiculously long skirts,â You said, rolling your eyes faintly, âThe kind that made me look like a complete prude. So I started hemming them myselfâjust a bit shorter, just enough to make them⌠wearable.â
As you spoke, you gestured to your own skirt, showing the subtle difference.
Cedric noticed.
Of course he did.
âThey are quite lovely.â He said, almost absentmindedlyâbut his gaze lingered on your legs just a fraction too long, something warmer slipping into his tone.
You blinked.
And then immediately felt the heat rise to your cheeks, your composure slipping just slightly as you let out a small, flustered laugh. âRightâwellâI can try.â You said, suddenly very aware of him standing so close, âIâm still altering my own dress to fit properly though.â
Ginny, blissfully oblivious to all of it, grabbed your sleeve and looked up at you with wide, hopeful eyes, âBut youâll do it?â
You exhaled, already giving in. âCome on, then,â You said, turning, âIâll need your measurements.â
Ginny beamed, instantly tugging you along with her.
Cedric opened his mouthâagain.
âWaitââ
But you were already moving, Ginny pulling you down the corridor, dress in hand, talking a mile a minute about sleeves, lace, colors, and everything she hated about it.
And just like that, you were gone againâdragged up the stairs toward your dorm, already mentally mapping out every alteration youâd need to make to salvage the disaster in her hands.
Behind you, Cedric slowed to a stop in the middle of the corridor.
His hand, which had lifted slightly to stop you, fell back to his side.
For a second, he just stood there, watching the space where youâd disappeared, the noise of the corridor rushing back in around him.
Then he let out a quiet breath, shaking his head, a soft laugh slipping out despite himself.
âUnbelievable.â He muttered under his breath, though there was no real frustration in itâjust something fond.
The Gryffindor common room had never looked like this before.
It wasnât its usual warm, slightly chaotic mess of scattered books and half-finished homeworkâtonight, it was alive in a completely different way. Gold and candlelight flickered against polished shoes and pressed robes, laughter spilling from every corner as people adjusted ties, smoothed hair, and whispered last-minute nerves about the night ahead.
And at the center of it allâ
You.
Because somehow, despite not even being ready yourself until ten minutes ago, you had managed to get everyone else sorted first.
Ginny had been first. Sheâd started knocking on your door in tears, having made a complete mess of the little makeup sheâd attempted and having no idea what to do with her hair. You sat her down, ignoring the dramatics, and got to work.
Now, she was practically glowingâher dress, which you had managed to salvage into something far more wearable than its original state, actually suited her. You styled her hair neatly and applied a modest amount of makeup, firmly refusing when she tried to convince you to add more.
Then came Hermione. Sheâd only meant to ask your opinion on her dress and hair, but the moment you noticed how uncomfortable she was with all the bobby pins, you sat her down without a second thought.
Swapping them out for sticking charmsâa solution she hadnât even consideredâyou adjusted everything with careful precision, touching up her makeup just enough to settle it perfectly into place.
âYou look beautiful.â You told her simply.
And you meant it.
Then came Ron.
Which, quite frankly, had been your last nerve.
You forcibly sat him down, ignoring his loud complaintsâreally, anyone would think you were attempting to torture him rather than make him look even remotely presentable. You fixed his hair, adjusted his robes as much as they could be saved, and sent him off with a firm warning to behave like a human being for once in his life.
Last was Harryâquiet, slightly overwhelmed, but cooperative enough as you smoothed his hair into something vaguely acceptable.
And only thenâfinallyâdid you get yourself ready.
By the time you were done, the common room was already beginning to empty, students drifting toward the Great Hall in clusters of excitement and nerves.
You barely spared yourself more than a glance before grabbing your things and heading for the door.
You were late.
Of course you were. At this rate, youâd be lucky to arrive in time to see the championsâ dance.
You pushed through the last cluster of students, adjusting your sleeve as you moved quickly toward the exit when you saw him.
Cedric.
He stood just off to the side, like heâd been waitingâhands flexing slightly at his sides, posture just a little too stiff to be casual. Like heâd been working himself up to something.
Your steps faltered.
Just slightly.
Your stomach flipped.
Again.
He looked up the second he noticed youâand for a moment, just a moment, he forgot whatever heâd been about to say.
Because he was staring.
And for once, Cedric Diggoryâconfident, composed, effortlessly charmingâlooked completely, utterly thrown.
You blinked, suddenly very aware of yourself under that look.
âYou look beautiful, (Y/N).â
Heat rushed to your face almost instantly. You lowered your gaze, half to hide it, reaching out instinctively to smooth the lapels of his dress robes, the fine material warm beneath your fingers.
âYou look quite beautiful yourself.â You murmured, the words slipping out before you could stop them.
A small smile tugged at his lips.
âIâuhââ
But before he could get another word outâ
Ron passed behind you, grumbling loudly, âI canât believe Hermione is going with the enemy.â
Your expression dropped immediately.
âOh, absolutely not.â
Cedric blinked, âWhatâ?â
âI need to fix that.â You muttered, already turning, fully prepared to march over and set your brother straight.
Because no oneâno oneâwas going to talk about Hermione like that. Not tonight. Not when she finally looked at herself and saw what everyone else already did. And certainly not your little brother.
You barely made it two stepsâ
Beforeâ
âOh, Helgaâ(Y/N) Weasley!â
The room went quiet.
Completely quiet.
You froze mid-step.
Slowlyâvery slowlyâyou turned back.
Cedric was standing where youâd left him.
Except now he looked⌠different.
Still nervous, still unsureâbut there was something steadier beneath it now. Like heâd finally decided he wasnât letting the moment slip away again.
Every eye in the room was on him.
On you.
And he didnât look away.
âWill you,â He said, voice carrying across the roomâfirm, but softened at the edges by something unmistakably earnest, âbe my date to the Yule Ball?â
For a secondâ
You didnât move.
Then your brain caught up.
Heat rushed to your face so quickly it was almost embarrassing, a smile breaking through before you could stop itâbright, relieved, a little breathless.
âOf course.â You said, like it had always been obvious.
Your head tilted slightly, eyes narrowing just a fraction in playful disbelief.
âI was wondering when you were going to ask me.â You added, a soft laugh slipping through.
âWhat took you so long?â
You really hated the hospital wing.
In the last four years, you had been there more times than you could count, and not once had it actually been for you. That was the unfortunate reality of having younger siblings who seemed determined to land themselves in trouble in increasingly creative ways, and you had grown used to itâthe scolding, the hovering, the quiet irritation that came with it all.
But this time felt different.
The worry sitting in your chest wasnât familiar. It didnât feel like the usual exasperated concern you carried for your brothersâit was heavier, sharper, lingering in a way that made it hard to breathe properly. It crawled up your throat and stayed there, refusing to settle, and no matter how many times you tried to reason with yourself, it didnât go away.
You didnât really understand it.
Or maybe you did.
There was a difference between platonic worry and something else. Something deeper. Something that made your hands feel restless and your chest feel too tight all at once.
And the stakes had never been this high before.
When Harry had reappeared from the maze, Cedricâs body unmoving beside him as he spoke of Lord Voldemort, something inside you had dropped so suddenly it left you standing there, unable to think, unable to move, unable to do anything but stare.
Like the ground had given out beneath your feet.
You and Cedric hadnât even been together that long.
After the Yule Ballâafter he had finally managed to ask youâyou had slipped into something easy, something familiar, something that hadnât quite had the time to settle into anything fully real yet. Which was exactly why you hadnât run to him on the grounds like youâd wanted to.
You had stayed back, forcing yourself to let the professors handle it, to let his father reach him first, telling yourself that it wasnât your placeâthat whatever this was between you, it wasnât enough to justify pushing through that kind of moment.
But then the hours had turned into days, and the waiting had become unbearable. Days of not knowing, days of hearing fragments and whispers but nothing certain, days of that quiet, suffocating fear settling deeper into your chest with nowhere to go.
So the moment you heard he was awakeâthat he had asked for youâyou didnât hesitate.
You ran.
The heavy doors of the hospital wing swung open under your hands, and you stepped inside quickly, your eyes scanning the room before immediately landing on him.
It was easy enough, considering he was the only one in here that began grinning like a fool at the sight of you.
Relief hit you so suddenly it almost made your knees give out.
You forced yourself forward, one step at a time, until you reached his bed, stopping just close enough to touch but not quite letting yourself yet.
âHi.â
The word came out softer than you intended.
Cedricâs smile shifted, something warmer settling into it, âWell, hello to you too.â
Your eyes moved over him instinctively, taking in the bandaged burns along his arm, the healing cut near his brow, the faint exhaustion he wasnât quite hiding as well as he thought he was.
âAre you alright?â
âRight as rain now that Iâve seen you.â
A quiet breath of laughter slipped from you, your head shaking faintly, âOnly you would say that after facing bloody Voldemort.â
He didnât argue.
Instead, he reached for you.
His hand found yours easily, fingers wrapping around it before gently tugging you closer, closing the distance you had been holding onto without even realizing it. You let yourself be pulled in, sitting carefully on the edge of the bed beside him, your heart already beginning to beat a little too fast.
Cedric was looking at youâproperly lookingâbut every time you tried to meet his gaze, yours betrayed you, flickering instead to the marks on his skin, the evidence of just how wrong everything could have gone.
Your frown deepened.
âIâm alright." He said gently.
You scoffed, though there was no real bite to it, âYouâre in the hospital wing.â
âWhich is better than the alternative.â
Your breath caught slightly at that, the words settling heavier than he seemed to intend.
âCedricââ
âIâm okay.â He repeated, more firmly this time, his gaze steady enough to pull yours back to his.
And then it softened.
His eyes dropped briefly to your hand, still held between both of his, his thumb brushing slowly along your knuckles as though grounding himself in the simple contact. The movement was absentminded, almost, but there was something careful in it tooâsomething that made your chest tighten unexpectedly.
Before you could think too much about it, he lifted your hand slightly and pressed his lips gently against your knuckles.
Your breath hitched.
Your heart stumbled, uneven and sudden, and when his eyes met yours again, something in them had changedâquieter now, a little uncertain, like he wasnât entirely sure how far he was allowed to go.
âCan Iââ He started, his voice catching just slightly.
Your eyes flicked to his lips before you could stop yourself, the movement quick but impossible to hide.
You didnât trust your voice.
So you nodded.
That was all he needed.
He leaned in slowly, carefully, like this moment might slip through his fingers if he moved too quickly. His hand tightened slightly around yours, the other hovering for a second before resting lightly against your arm, hesitant but certain enough to stay.
And then his lips brushed yours, capturing your upper lip between both of his.
Soft. Barely there.
It was so light it almost didnât feel real at first, the kind of touch that made your head spin simply because it was happening at all. He lingered there, gentle and tentative, like he was waitingâlike he was making sure you wanted this just as much as he did.
For a moment, you let it stay like that, suspended in something fragile and quiet.
Until it wasnât enough.
You leaned in slightly, closing the space between you properly, and that small shift was all it took.
The kiss deepenedânot rushed, not overwhelming, but certain. Your hand tightened in his, your other lifting instinctively to rest against the back of his neck, fingers brushing lightly against his hair as you held him there. He inhaled sharply, tilting his head as he deepened the kiss, devouring youâ
âWHAT THE BLOODY HELL IS GOING ON HERE?!â
You and Cedric sprang apart like youâd been hit with a Stunning Spell.
Your heart leapt into your throat as you whipped aroundâ
Charlie.
Standing in the doorway.
Arms crossed.
Oh Good Godric.
âCharlieââ
âNo,â He cut in immediately, pointing a finger at you like you were five again and had just been caught stealing biscuits from the kitchen, âNoâdonât you âCharlieâ me.â
You blinked at him, âWhat are you even doing here?â
âI came to check on you and golden boy,â He snapped, before gesturing wildly between you and Cedric, âAnd I find this?!â
Cedric, to his credit, had the decency to look at least slightly guilty. Only slightly.
You, however, frowned, âItâs just a kissââ
âJUST aâ?!â Charlie looked personally offended. Then, without missing a beat: âYouâre grounded.â
You stared at him.
âIâm what?â
âGrounded for,â He repeated firmly. Then, after a brief pause, as if deciding to make it worse: âUntil you graduate.â
Your jaw dropped.
âFor-Until I graduate?!â
âYes!â
âWhy?!â
He looked at you like it was the most obvious thing in the world, âFor kissing that git!â
You turned, incredulous, gesturing toward Cedric, âYouâre the one who said he was a nice boy! That he had a good head on his shoulders!â
âI take it back!â Charlie shot back immediately, âHeâs a bloody cradle-robber!â
Your eyes widened, âWeâre the same age!â
Charlie was already moving, grabbing your arm and hauling you off the bed before you could argue further.
âCharlieâCharlie, let goâ!â
âNope. Absolutely not. Youâre coming with me.â
âThis is ridiculousâ!â
Behind you, Cedric shifted slightly on the bed, looking far too amused for someone who had just been publicly accused of being a menace to society.
And thenâbecause he clearly had no sense of self-preservationâ
âBye, love.â
"I'm not your love." Charlie replied haughtily, tightening his grip on your arm as he started dragging you toward the door again, âYouâre never leaving the house again. Ever.â
âCharlie!â
And just like that, you were being dragged out of the hospital wing, your protests echoing down the corridor.
And Cedric was left sitting alone on the bed, an amused smile on his face, "We have such poor timing."
bonus:
The morning had been quiet.
Suspiciously quiet, really.
Sunlight filtered lazily through the curtains, casting soft gold across the bed, the room still wrapped in that slow, peaceful warmth that only came with days off and nowhere to be. No rushing, no responsibilities pressing inâjust stillness.
And Cedric.
You were half-curled into him, head resting against his chest, his arm draped loosely around you, fingers absentmindedly tracing slow patterns along your arm. It was the kind of quiet you didnât get often anymoreâthe kind you had learned to appreciate in small, fleeting moments.
For once, there were no interruptions.
No chaos.
Cedric let out a quiet breath above you, something content settling into it as his hand stilled briefly against your arm.
âIâm so glad,â He murmured, voice still rough with sleep, âto have you all to myself.â
You smiled faintly, tilting your head just enough to glance up at him, "Truly, we haven't had a quiet moment like this sinceââ
âMum!â
âDad!â
Cedric froze.
You didnât even try to hide your laugh.
There was a brief, heavy silence as the distant shouts echoed through the house, followed by the unmistakable sound of somethingâprobably several thingsâbeing knocked over.
Cedric exhaled slowly.
Then dropped his head back against the pillows with a long-suffering sigh.
âThese bloody Weasleys,â He muttered, dragging a hand down his face, âAnd their innate ability to know exactly when Iâm trying to have a moment alone with my wife.â
You laughed properly at that, shifting slightly so you could look at him more fully, your hand coming up to rest lightly against his chest.
âWell,â You said sweetly, âtheyâre half Diggory.â
âSo their complete lack of sense and tact probably comes from you.â
Cedric blinked.
Then let out a short, disbelieving laugh.
âExcuse me?â
Before you could respondâ
A loud crash echoed from somewhere down the hall.
Followed byâ
âThat wasnât me!â
âYes it was!â
Right outside the door this time.
You laughed, leaning up just enough to press a quick kiss to his lips before pulling back.
He sighed, finally getting up, "Alright! What have we said about messing about in the kitchen without mum or dad?!"
A beat of silence.
"That we're not supposed to."
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⢠pairing. cedric diggory x fem!reader ⢠summary. one night, you caught yourself in a mess you hadnât quite plannedâa forced blind date your friend had planned out. problem is, a certain prefect was out on duty and you sure werenât on your dormitory this late at night. ⢠he fell first, he fell harder. grumpy x sunshine. friends to lovers. cedric being jealous. ⢠wc. 1,7k ⢠masterlist!
you couldnât quite place how youâd gotten into this mess. it was half past 10 and instead of being snuggled up on your bed, snoring soundlessly, here you were out on the castle grounds with justin, sneaking your way in back to where you shouldâve been.
it was stupid, really. your supposed âfriendâ lavender has had the thought that what you really needed right now was a boyfriend. âyou seriously need to go on a date to take your mind off of things. iâm telling you, itâs such a stress reliever!â or whatever lavender said.
you tried. once, twice, hell you declined the offer tens and thousands of times, but did she ever back down? no. it was pretty clear to you that no matter how many times youâve turned the offer down, sheâd still pester you about it. and so, as much as you wanted to tape her mouth down and shout at her face, you reluctantly agreed, with her agreeing that if this date thing didnât work out, sheâd never bother you for another.
just one date. one night. one hour.
you drowned your own head with those thoughts. from the moment you got dressed, down to the moment where he attempted to peck youâwhich, obviously you dodged. and right after that awfully awkward moment, the two of you spoke less than before, though you never really spoke to begin with. all he ever managed to muster up with that mouth of his was bragging about how he survived being petrified.
âso.. saturday, same place, same time?â justin asked with a flush, keeping his voice low as possible as he stood near the foot of the stairs of the entrance hall. clearly he enjoyed tonight, unlike you. âyeah, sure.â as much as you didnât want to, you couldnât bare saying no to him, your guilt only pushed even further when all of a sudden, a bouquet of flowers, carried with a tiny note inside, appeared on his left arm.
âfor you,â he grinned shyly. âi hope you like them.â
you froze, blinked, then quickly quickly pasted on the most polite smile you could manage. âoh, wow! thank you, this means a lot to me.â chuckling awkwardly, you held the bouquet at arms length, gripping it tightly than you shouldâve. neither of you spoke for a few moments, letting the awkward atmosphere pass through.
âwell, i sâpose itâs getting late, isnât it? we should really head back to our dorms.â he finally spoke, breaking the silence, as he clasped his hand. âoh, yeah, right.â you didnât even know what time it was, but the way the hall stood deserted made it clear you shouldâve been back in your dorm ages ago. your heart sunk just by the mere thought of being caught by filch.
âwould you like me to walk you to your room? if thatâs what you would like, of course.â he asked, scratching the back of his hair out of nervousness.
oh, god. now you felt even more guilty. heâs genuinely such a nice person, you couldnât possibly turn him down.
âitâs alright, thanks.â you smiled softly, to which he gratefully returned, before he set off in a completely different direction, off to his own dormitory.
the walk to your dormitory felt like hours, you didnât remember your dormitory being this far off. occasionally, you heard murmured voices and faint footsteps echoing through the halls, each one making your heart skip as you pressed closer to the shadows.
and at last, you settled through a corridor in which you go through everyday. a great sense of relief washed over as you quickened your pace, knowing your room was edging nearer with each step you took.
your little moment of relief, however, was cut off shortly when all of a sudden, a voice you recognized echoed down the corridorâcalm, low, and far too amused for your liking. you neednât turn around to know who it was.
âout awfully late, arenât we?â cedricâs baritone carried easily through the quiet hall, and your stomach dropped. out of anyone, literally anyone, it just had to be him. of course he was on prefect duty tonight.
turning around with a scowl, you were met with cedric diggory himself, wearing that awfully, annoying, charming smirk, as he inched closer towards you. mumbling a word you shouldnât have out of frustration, you quickly hid the bouquet behind your back.
âwhy, hello, isnât it mr prefect,â you drawled. âi was just heading back to my dormitory, so if you donât mind..â you shifted, attempting to slip past him, when in a blink of an eye, he was now in front of you, again, blocking your path.
âoh, but just hold on a minute,â his voice carrying a hint of amusement. âcare to tell me what youâre doing this late at night?â he arched a brow, the corner of his lips twitching slightly as he eyed you up and down suspiciously.
âi was..â you traced off, scrambling for any possible excuse. âyou wereâŚ?â his tone equal parts patient and infuriating. the faint smirk tugging at his lips told you he already knew he had you cornered. âi was just off from the library. you know, for theâuhâexams tomorrow?â you blurted, portraying the most innocent looking face you could.
he let out a low and warm chuckle, âgoing to the library with a set of bouquet in your hands? thatâs a new one.â you rolled your eyes. so he did notice. âdid you really think hiding it behind your back was a clever idea?â he teased, his grin never faltering. now that you did think about it, it was ridiculous to hide this massive bouquet behind your back in attempt to hide them.
âwhatever,â you huffed, gripping the bouquet tightly as you swept past him. and to your dismay, he fell into step beside you with ease, his long strides effortlessly matching yours. âyou know,â he said, hands shoved casually into his pockets, âmost people would at least thank me for not docking points.â
you shot him a look. âright, and most people donât go sniffing around after curfew waiting for someone to slip up.â you spat. âwell, it is my job after all.â and again, he let out that same infuriating chuckle.
unbeknownst to you, however, his eyes had been lingering on a certain object for far too long. at last, he cleared his throat.
âso, uh.. those flowers,â he began, forcing a casual tone as his gaze flickered down to them once more. âsorry, i mean.. were you on a date, or..?â the question hung in the air, wrapped in false nonchalance. he mentally cursed himself for asking such a ridiculous question.
âiâm sorry, you donât need toââ
a grin cracked across your lips. âyeah, i was out on a date.â you replied casually, adjusting the bouquet in your arms. âwhy?â you so innocently asked, raising a brow at him.
for a moment, his easy smirk falteredâjust barely, before he recovered, shrugging like it didnât matter. âno reason,â he said smoothly, though the way his jaw clenched said otherwise.
after a brief moment of silence, he askedâagain.
âso, who was it, then? dean? harry?â the names rolled off his tongue casually, folding his arms in attempt of acting completely cool.
âoh, please,â you scoffed, the corners of your mouth tugging upward. âdonât you have any better guesses? itâs justin. you know him, right?â you delivered the words offhandedly, still not grasping the situation you were currently in.
âjustin? you mean the hufflepuff justin? him?â he breathed, disbelief slipping through as his jaw tightened; his tongue darted across his lips. you lifted your bouquet for him to see, âhe was really lovely, you know. he even bought me these.â
he then mumbled something under his breath, too low for you to catch. âthose arenât even your favorite, he shouldâve known better.â
âwhat was that? youâre speaking at a mouse-level noise.â you narrowed your eyes at him just as the two of you rounded a corner. âwhat? oh, nothing.â he replied, way too quickly. âlast question, so, likeâare you two dating, or..?â he scratched the nape of his neck awkwardly once heâs realized the ridiculous amount of questions heâs asked you.
you scoffed playfully. âdonât be stupid, of course not. he just took me out on a date once, thatâs all.â and at that, he felt the knot in his chest finally loosen. âthatâs great! he blurted, far too quicklyâthen faltered, clearing his throat. âwaitâsorry, i meant.. i see.â his ears flushed just slightly.
âand what is that supposed to mean?â you asked offendedly, furrowing your eyebrows. fortunately for him, he didnât get the chance to answer: the two of you had stopped before the doors to your common room.
âright then, thanks for not telling on me and walking me to my dormitory. very kind of you.â although your voice dripped with sarcasm, he smiled softly anyway.
and you hated it.
hated the way he would laugh.
hated the way he could be so infuriatingly perfect.
âwell, i suppose this is where we say goodbye, then?â he said quietly, voice steady but softer than usual. he stayed just a step back, hands loosely at his sides, eyes fixed on yours. âthank God, it is.â he could only laugh lightly at your response, and oddly, you caught a small smile tugging at the corner of your mouth.
after you had given the door your answer, you carefully stepped inside, still fully aware that of cedricâs gaze that never left yours. âgoodnight.â was the last thing you heard from him that night before you completely shut the door behind you.
heading up for the girlsâ dormitory, you felt a light warmth spreading through you, and you didnât know why. didnât want to know why. you just felt so. perhaps, it was the feeling people got right after a date? you couldnât quite place what the feeling was, but you didnât care.
