I’m Mango 🥭 Welcome to my blog! Here, I’ll be writing, sharing thoughts, and mainly (and most importantly) connecting. This blog is all about connection. Feel free to stay, have a cup of tea, or take a peek and be on your merry way, stay as long as you’d like! ⭐️🧸💌🐆🍒
A little about me: I’m a fan of a lot of different medias such as Gilmore Girls (team Logan), Stranger Things, OuterBanks, and many more! (always open to suggestions on stuff to watch!); My favorite color’s pink ; My favorite fruit is actually not a mango, it’s a strawberry (but I’m allergic lol); I enjoy doing escape rooms, trivia, shopping, hanging out with my friends, and living life!
Requests: open! 📬 (preferably something to do with stuff I know, but I’ll try my best to accommodate!)
STEVE HARRINGTON:
🏠= Neighbor!steve
This way! 🏠 - In which Steve Harrington's neighbor is going on a date and he has to do everything to stop it, even if he's drunk out of his mind. (Steve x reader)
The apple doesn’t fall far from the tree - you’re a teacher trying to hang up some artwork, who can’t really seem to use a stapler. Thanks to some apples, you learn more about why Steve Harrington became a teacher. A good teacher.
No Do-Overs 🏠 - Steve Harrington and his friends ruin your Romeo & Juliet callback, you vow to never speak to him ever again, and Steve vows to make it up to you.
Lean on me - Being Steve Harrington and Spider-Man is hard to balance. Love life is an absolute no, but when Steve gets hurt while fighting crime, he knows exactly which window to crawl through.
Take a Hint - Steve Harrington keeps trying to ask you out with the help of Dustin, much to your obliviousness and insecurity.
JOHN LOGAN:
Therapy. - John Logan goes to therapy for the first time (he needs it!) he feels uncomfortable until he meets you.
hi there!! would you maybe write a logan x reader insert where she's part of the drama club but in the costume department and allie begs her to step in when one of the actors can't perform because she has learnt every line whilst working in the background! and logan sees her in a completely new light, and he can be in the audience or somehow on stage too with her, whichever you feel is best 🥰 thank you, i really love your work!
Stage Lights - John Logan
ᴍᴀꜱᴛᴇʀʟɪꜱᴛ
Blurb: When an actress loses her voice on opening night, you’re dragged out of the costume department and into the spotlight. You expect to survive the show. You don’t expect Logan to be watching you like he’s seeing you for the first time.
That felt important to remember when Allie burst into the costume room with her hair half-pinned, one earring missing, and the expression of someone who had just seen the gates of hell open under a community theater stage.
“No,” you said immediately.
She stopped in the doorway, one hand braced against the frame, the other clutching a script she absolutely did not need. Allie never carried scripts this close to opening night unless she was using them as emotional support. “You don’t even know what I’m about to say.”
“I know your face.”
“My face is beautiful and expressive.”
“Your face is asking me to do something illegal.”
“It’s theater,” she said, stepping fully into the room. “Everything is either illegal, emotionally manipulative, or held together with spirit gum.”
You looked back down at the jacket in your lap, because the safest thing to do when Allie Hayes looked desperate was pretend thread had suddenly become the most fascinating object in the world. The costume room was already chaos in a way only drama club could manage. Dresses hung from every available rack, garment bags were unzipped on the floor, a row of character shoes sat abandoned beneath the makeup table, and someone had left a half-empty iced coffee beside a crown that absolutely should not have been sticky.
You had been here since three, sewing a button back onto Nick’s Act Two vest because Nick treated costumes like they were suggestions rather than pieces of clothing. You liked this part. The fixing, the adjusting, the last-minute saves nobody noticed unless you failed at them. There was comfort in being backstage. The lights never found you there.
Allie, unfortunately, had never respected comfort when a crisis was available.
“Marissa can’t go on,” she said.
You froze with the needle halfway through the fabric.
Allie took that as an opening and rushed forward, talking fast enough to outpace your panic. “She has no voice. None. She opened her mouth and sounded like a haunted kettle. The director is one missed cue away from lying facedown in the lobby. We tried calling her understudy, but her understudy is apparently in Boston for her cousin’s engagement dinner, which feels fake, but I don’t have time to prosecute that right now.”
You stared at her. “Allie.”
“You know the part.”
“I know the part because I’ve heard it eight hundred times while hemming skirts.”
“You know the part because you whisper everyone’s lines under your breath when you think nobody can hear you.”
“I do not.”
“You recited half of Act Two yesterday with three pins in your mouth.”
Allie crossed the room and dropped into the chair beside you, which was dramatic considering she was in a satin gown and had no business sitting anywhere near the lint roller pile. “Please. I know you hate this. I know you like being back here, and I know you’re going to tell me you’re not an actor, but you know every cue, every scene change, every line Marissa has. You know where she stands. You know when she crosses. You even know when she’s supposed to cry, which is more than Marissa knew until yesterday.”
That made you want to laugh, which was unfair. Allie weaponized humor when begging. It was one of her strongest and most irritating gifts.
“I can’t just walk on stage because I’ve been in the room a lot,” you said, though your voice had lost some of its certainty.
“You won’t be walking on because you’ve been in the room. You’ll be walking on because you’re the only person who can save us from performing a romantic drama where one of the main women is represented by a lamp.”
“A lamp?”
“It was Dean’s suggestion.”
“Dean is here?”
Allie’s mouth twitched. “The hockey boys are here. Dean came because he heard the phrase ‘costume department’ and misunderstood the tone of the evening. Garrett came because Dean promised there would be snacks. Logan came because…”
She stopped herself, which was your first warning.
You pressed your hands over your face. “That is not helping.”
“I know,” she said, sounding a little too pleased with herself, “which is why I’m only going to mention the relevant part. Logan asked if you were around.”
Your hands dropped.
Allie watched the information land with an almost unbearable amount of satisfaction. She was one of your favorite people on campus and also, at times, a woman who deserved to be locked in a prop closet for everyone’s safety.
“He asked if I was around?”
“He said, ‘Is your costume girl here?’ which I found reductive, but he meant you.”
“That could mean literally anyone in this room.”
“There’s only one girl he looks for when he comes backstage.”
You hated that your stomach did something stupid at that. Logan had been around a handful of times, usually when post-rehearsal plans somehow migrated to the green room or when one of the guys got dragged into carrying set pieces because the drama club had no budget and too much faith in hockey-player upper body strength. You knew him in pieces. His laugh in the hallway, his habit of picking up whatever someone dropped before they realized they had dropped it, the way he acted like every conversation was casual even when his attention made your skin warm.
He was easy to talk to, which made him dangerous. Guys like Logan could make you feel like you were standing under a spotlight even when they were only asking if you wanted the last slice of pizza.
“That still does not mean I can perform in front of him,” you said.
Allie’s face softened, and that was worse than the begging. “You won’t be performing for him. You’ll be performing because you can. And because if you don’t, I’m going to have to watch Dean’s lamp idea come to life and I may never recover.”
You let out a breath that felt like it had been living in your chest for the past five minutes. Outside the costume room, someone shouted for tape, someone else shouted that the tape was not where it was supposed to be, and the director’s voice rose above both of them with the brittle calm of a man preparing to lose his mind artistically.
You looked at the dress hanging on the rack. Marissa’s dress. Your dress, technically, since you had taken it in at the waist, shortened the sleeves, replaced the buttons, and stitched the inside seam after she stepped on it during tech week. You knew how it moved because you had made it move properly. You knew the character because you had dressed her.
Allie followed your gaze and wisely said nothing.
“I’m not kissing Nick,” you said finally.
Allie sprang up so fast the satin of her skirt snapped around her ankles. “The stage kiss was cut yesterday because Nick has the romantic presence of a damp sock. You’ll be emotionally yearning from three feet away, which is basically theater’s entire brand.”
“I need the script.”
“You don’t need the script.”
“I need it so I can panic with structure.”
Allie shoved it into your hands, then grabbed your shoulders with both of hers. “I owe you my life.”
“You owe me coffee for a month.”
“Done.”
“And you’re telling the director this was your idea when it goes badly.”
“It won’t.”
“Allie.”
She squeezed your shoulders. “It won’t!”
You wanted to believe her. The problem was, believing Allie Hayes had gotten many people into many situations, most of them loud, glittery, and poorly planned. Still, twenty minutes later, you were standing in the wings wearing Marissa’s dress, your own clothes folded over a chair in the costume room, your hair pinned up by Allie’s frantic hands. The director had looked at you like you were both his salvation and his next cardiac event. Nick had tried to give you an encouraging thumbs-up and immediately hit his knuckles on a fake bookcase.
Everything smelled like hairspray, dust, and hot stage lights.
You heard the audience settling on the other side of the curtain. Low voices, shifting seats, someone laughing too loudly near the front. Your pulse seemed to have relocated to your throat.
Allie appeared at your side, radiant in her costume and only slightly terrifying. “Remember, you enter after my line about the letter. Cross to the table, pick up the envelope, stare at it like it ruined your life, then Nick enters.”
“I know.”
“I know you know. I’m telling you because I need to be doing something with my mouth or I’m going to scream.”
That almost loosened the knot in your chest. “You’re very calming.”
“I’ve been told I have the energy of a beautiful emergency.”
Before you could answer, a familiar voice came from the side hallway. “That explains a lot, actually.”
You turned.
Logan stood just beyond the curtain line in dark jeans and a Briar Hockey hoodie, a folded program in one hand. He looked like he had wandered backstage by accident, except Logan never really looked lost. He looked curious. Curious and a little caught off guard as his eyes moved over you, not in the obvious way that would have made you want to disappear, but with a quiet pause that made everything feel suddenly too warm.
Allie pointed at him. “No. Absolutely not. You cannot be back here being distracting. She is saving the entire production.”
Logan’s gaze flicked to Allie, then back to you. “You’re going on?”
“Apparently,” you said, trying not to sound like your bones had turned to paper.
His expression shifted. The teasing eased out of it, leaving something softer behind. “That’s kind of badass.”
You laughed before you could stop yourself. It came out nervous, but real. “I’m replacing a girl with laryngitis in a student play, Logan. I’m not storming a castle.”
“Feels castle-adjacent.”
Allie made a strangled noise. “John Logan, if you make her laugh so hard she forgets her blocking, I’ll make you sit through every musical I’ve ever loved and test you afterward.”
Logan held up both hands, the program still caught between his fingers. “Leaving. I only came to tell you Garrett spilled soda on Dean and they’re arguing about whether that’s a bad omen.”
“It is not,” Allie said.
“Dean says sticky thighs are never neutral.”
You pressed your lips together, trying not to smile, and Logan caught it. There was a tiny beat where the backstage madness blurred around the edges, where he looked at you like he was going to say something else and decided against making it a joke.
“You’ve got this,” he said.
It was simple. That was what got you.
Not loud confidence, not a big speech, not some teasing line about being impressed before you had done anything. Just his voice, steady and certain, like he had no trouble imagining you walking out there and surviving it.
Then Allie shooed him away with both hands, and the stage manager hissed for places, and the curtain went up before your body had a chance to catch up with your choices.
For the first few minutes, you waited in the wings and listened.
You had heard the opening scene so many times you could practically see it without looking. Allie’s entrance, the laugh from the audience when she delivered her second line, Nick’s first missed pause, recovered quickly enough that only the people backstage winced. Your fingers curled into the skirt of your dress, smoothing fabric you had already smoothed six times.
Then Allie said the line about the letter.
Your cue.
For half a second, your feet did nothing. All the confidence you had borrowed from Allie, from Logan, from the fact that you knew the play better than some of the people performing it, slipped out of reach. Beyond the wing, the stage stretched wide and bright. The audience was a dark shape past the lights, hundreds of eyes hidden in shadow.
Then Allie turned slightly, just enough that only you could see her face, and widened her eyes like she was trying to physically drag you into the scene.
You stepped out.
The lights hit first. Heat across your cheeks, down your neck, over the front of the dress. The room was both enormous and impossible to see. Your hand found the table because you knew exactly where it was. Your fingers closed around the envelope because you had placed it there yourself before curtain.
You stared at it like it ruined your life.
The first line came out quieter than Marissa’s usually did, but it came out. Then the next. By the third, your voice had stopped shaking. By the fourth, you were no longer thinking about the audience.
You were thinking about the letter, the room, Allie’s character watching you with pity she was trying to hide. You were thinking about the argument you had heard rehearsed for weeks, and how, somehow, standing inside it felt different than listening from a stool in the corner with a seam ripper in your hand.
In the audience, Logan forgot about Dean’s ongoing whisper campaign against the sticky soda on his jeans.
At first, he had been watching because you were you, and because seeing you walk onto a stage in a dress he knew you had probably altered yourself was enough to make his brain stall for a second. You were always in motion when he saw you backstage. Carrying hangers, pinning hems, ducking past actors with a headset around your neck, smiling when someone thanked you and then vanishing before they could say anything else.
He had thought you were shy. Not in a bad way. Just quieter than Allie, which was not hard, and less interested in being the center of the room than pretty much everyone in the drama club.
Then you started speaking.
It was not the kind of performance that announced itself. You did not walk out and demand attention. You earned it line by line, until the audience stopped rustling, until someone in the row ahead of him leaned forward, until Dean whispered, “Wait, she’s actually good,” and Logan elbowed him without looking away from the stage.
Because you were good.
Not cute-good. Not impressive-for-someone-who-got-dragged-into-this good. You were good in a way that made Logan feel like he had been missing something obvious for weeks. You knew when to pause. You knew how to let a line sit. When Nick came in too early, you shifted half a step, lifted the envelope, and made his mistake look like impatience written into the scene.
The audience laughed in the right place. Allie looked like she might cry from relief.
Logan watched your face change under the lights and had the unsettling thought that maybe you had been this interesting the whole time, and he had only been catching glimpses from the hallway.
By the final scene, you were flushed and a little breathless, but you were still there. Still holding your own. Still making the room follow you.
When the lights went down, the applause came fast. You blinked into the darkness as if waking up. Allie grabbed your hand for the curtain call and squeezed so hard your fingers hurt, but she was beaming, and the sound of the audience rose as you stepped forward with the rest of the cast.
You found Logan by accident.
He was standing with Garrett and Dean near the middle aisle, clapping with a look on his face you did not know what to do with. He was not laughing, not teasing, not performing his own ease back at you. He looked proud, which felt impossible and strangely intimate for someone who had only learned you were acting twenty minutes ago.
You looked away first.
Backstage after the show was worse than going on.
At least on stage, you had lines. Backstage, you had people touching your arm and telling you how amazing you were, the director saying something about instincts, Nick apologizing for the missed cue while also trying to pretend it had not happened, and Allie announcing to anyone within hearing distance that she had discovered you, like you were a small Victorian orphan she had pulled from the fog.
You escaped to the costume room under the very legitimate excuse of changing before someone made you talk about your feelings.
The second the door closed, you leaned back against it and exhaled. Your body felt floaty and exhausted, like all your nerves had burned through their fuel at once. The dress itched under one arm. Your hair was falling out of its pins. Your cheeks hurt from smiling.
You had just started unfastening the top button when someone knocked.
“If that’s Allie, I’m not doing interviews,” you called.
“It’s not Allie,” Logan said through the door. “And I don’t know enough about theater to conduct a good interview.”
Your fingers stopped on the button.
You opened the door partway, mostly because leaving Logan in the hallway felt more embarrassing than facing him. He stood there holding a small bouquet wrapped in green paper, looking faintly uncertain in a way you had never seen on him before.
“Hi,” he said.
“Hi.”
He glanced down at the flowers like he had only just remembered they existed. “The woman in the lobby said these were for performers. I believed her because she had a cash box and seemed powerful.”
You took them before your hands could decide to shake. They were simple, a few bright flowers tucked together with baby’s breath, the kind of bouquet probably meant for parents to buy at the last second. Somehow that made it sweeter.
“You didn’t have to get me flowers.”
“Yeah, I’m getting that vibe from you.”
“What vibe?”
“The one where compliments make you look like you’re searching for the nearest exit.”
You huffed a laugh and stepped back into the room, letting him follow because standing in the doorway suddenly felt too exposed. “I’m not good at this part.”
“The acting part?”
“No, weirdly that part was fine after the initial terror.” You set the flowers gently on the makeup table, away from the sticky crown. “The after part. People saying things.”
Logan nodded like that made sense, and instead of filling the room with easy jokes, he looked around. At the racks of costumes, the spools of thread, the labeled bins, the dress forms with half-finished pieces pinned to them. His attention moved over the room the same way it had moved over you earlier, taking things in rather than skimming past them.
“You made all this?”
“Not all of it. Some pieces were pulled from storage. Some were altered. Some were built by the department.”
His mouth curved, but his eyes came back to you with that same open steadiness from before. “You were incredible.”
Warmth rushed up your neck. You busied yourself with removing a pin from your sleeve that did not need removing. “I knew the lines.”
“Knowing the lines explains the words. It doesn’t explain the part where the whole room went quiet because they were waiting to see what you’d do next.”
That silenced you for a moment.
Logan did not look pleased with himself for saying it. He looked almost surprised, like he had meant to keep it lighter and failed. That made it harder to brush off.
“I almost didn’t go out there,” you admitted.
“I saw.”
Your eyes lifted.
He leaned back against the edge of the table, making sure not to disturb the makeup brushes or the crown. “You had this half-second where you looked like you were going to run straight out the back door. Then Allie did something with her face.”
“Allie’s face has ruined many lives.”
“Probably saved a few too.”
You smiled down at the pin in your hand. “She knew I could do it before I did.”
“She was right.”
The room seemed quieter than it had a minute ago, even with the muffled noise of people celebrating in the hallway. You could hear the cast laughing, Allie’s voice rising above the rest, Dean complaining about something with full commitment. In here, with Logan standing close enough that you could see the place where his hoodie sleeve had been pushed up his forearm, everything felt softer around the edges.
“I’m not auditioning for the next one,” you said, because you needed something between you that was not the way he was looking at you.
“I didn’t ask.”
“You were about to.”
“I was thinking about it,” he admitted. “But I’m learning you respond badly to pressure.”
“Smart.”
You laughed, and his smile deepened, not triumphant, just pleased that he had gotten you there. It made you remember every other time he had found you backstage or in Allie’s room or at a party where you were never quite part of the loudest group. How he always seemed to notice when you went quiet, but never made a show of it. How he asked questions that sounded casual until later, when you realized he remembered the answers.
Maybe he had been seeing you more than you thought.
Logan’s gaze dropped briefly to the dress. “Do you need help getting out of that?”
Your eyebrows shot up.
He immediately closed his eyes for half a second, like he was replaying his own sentence and suffering through it. “I meant in a respectful, theater-costume, probably-a-row-of-buttons-you-can’t-reach way.”
“You’re very smooth.”
“I was before I watched you emotionally destroy an audience. Apparently that had consequences.”
The laugh that came out of you was softer this time. You turned, gathering your hair over one shoulder, and presented him with the back of the dress before you could overthink it. “Three buttons. Then you are leaving so I can change.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
His fingers brushed the fabric at your back, and the quiet shifted again. He was gentle with the buttons, slower than he needed to be, or maybe you were just aware of every second because it was Logan standing behind you in the costume room, undoing the dress you had spent a week fixing for someone else.
He finished the last button and stepped back immediately, giving you space.
“All set,” he said, voice lower than before.
You turned around, holding the dress in place with one hand. “Thank you.”
He nodded, but he did not move toward the door yet. “For the record, I liked you backstage too.”
Your chest tightened.
Logan looked a little nervous after saying it, which was absurd because Logan had once flirted with a waitress while Dean loudly knocked over an entire basket of fries beside him and had not lost focus for even a second.
“You liked me backstage?” you asked.
“I mean, yeah. You’re kind of hard not to like.” He rubbed the back of his neck, then let his hand fall. “But tonight was different. Not because you were suddenly someone else. More because you were already you, and then everyone else got to notice.”
You had no idea what to say to that. It was too much and exactly enough, and it landed somewhere deeper than a compliment about the play.
The hallway door flew open before you could answer, and Allie appeared, stopping short when she saw you and Logan facing each other in the tiny, overstuffed room.
Her eyes flicked to the flowers, then to Logan, then to the undone buttons at the back of your dress that you were still holding closed.
“Oh,” she said, delighted in a way that promised future problems.
“Allie,” you said.
“No, no, I’m not here. I’m a hallucination brought on by applause and emotional vulnerability.”
“Go away,” Logan said, but he was smiling.
“I am going away. I’m leaving so naturally that nobody will even remember I entered.” She backed out slowly, still pointing between the two of you with the kind of silent excitement that made you want to throw a spool of thread at her. Somewhere in the hall, Dean called her name and asked if theater people kept snacks backstage, which finally dragged her attention away.
The door closed again.
You and Logan stared at it for a beat before you both started laughing. It broke whatever had been hovering between you, but not completely. It only made it easier to breathe around it.
“I should change,” you said.
“Right. I’ll wait outside?”
“You don’t have to.”
“I know.” He picked up the program from where he had set it on the table and tapped it lightly against his palm. “But I want to walk you out after. If that’s okay.”
It was more than okay, which was why you had to look down at the flowers instead of directly at him. “Yeah. That’s okay.”
Logan smiled like he knew exactly how much effort it took you to sound normal. “Good.”
He left, and you changed into your own clothes with shaky fingers, the dress going back on its hanger with more tenderness than it probably deserved. When you stepped into the hallway a few minutes later, Logan was waiting by the wall of old production posters, talking to Dean and Garrett. Dean was mid-sentence, gesturing dramatically with a pretzel he had found, but Logan’s attention shifted to you immediately.
It should have been embarrassing, being noticed that quickly.
Allie hugged you so hard you nearly dropped the flowers, then got swept away by three cast members and a director who wanted to discuss tomorrow’s performance. Garrett gave you a warm congratulations. Dean told you he had always believed in you, despite absolutely not knowing you were in the show until intermission, and then wandered off when someone mentioned pizza.
Logan stayed.
The two of you left through the side exit, away from the lobby and the last of the audience. Outside, Briar’s campus was cool and dark, the theater lights spilling gold across the pavement. You clutched the flowers against your chest as you walked, your shoulder occasionally brushing his.
For once, Logan did not rush to fill every silence. He let this one sit until it felt less like awkwardness and more like a place to rest.
“So,” Logan said eventually, “when you become famous, I’m going to need everyone to know I brought you your first bouquet.”
You glanced over at him. “That was my first bouquet?”
“For theater, probably.”
“You’re making a big assumption.”
“Am I wrong?”
You tried to hold back a smile and failed, which was apparently answer enough because his grin softened in that quiet, pleased way that made your chest feel too small for your ribs.
You walked a few more steps before you said, “I’m really not auditioning.”
“Okay.”
“I mean it.”
“I believe you.”
“You sound like you don’t.”
“I sound like a guy who would sit through another play if you were backstage,” he said. “Or onstage. Or running the whole thing from a headset.”
The warmth in your chest returned, slower this time, spreading all the way down to your fingers around the bouquet.
“You’d come just because I was backstage?”
Logan looked at you under the theater’s side lights, the teasing still there but softer now, almost secondary. “Yeah. I would.”
The answer was too easy for him. Not thrown out for effect, not polished into something it wasn’t. Easy because it was true.
You stopped near the edge of the steps. He stopped too, close enough that the night air between you felt thinner than it should have.
“I don’t really know what to do when people look at me,” you admitted.
Logan’s gaze moved over your face with enough restraint to make your stomach flip. “I can look away.”
You shook your head before he finished saying it. “I didn’t say I wanted you to.”
His smile faded into something quieter.
From somewhere behind you, the side door opened and Allie’s voice carried into the night. “I’m not interrupting. I’m just witnessing something, hopefully magical.”
“Allie,” you called back, mortified.
“I’m gone,” she said, immediately not sounding gone. “I’m disappearing. Like a supportive ghost.”
The door shut again before either of you could answer, and for a second, you and Logan just stared at each other. Then he laughed under his breath, warm and disbelieving, and the sound loosened the last of your nerves.
“We’re never hearing the end of this,” he said.
“Probably not.”
“Worth it?”
You looked at the flowers in your hand, then at him. For the first time all night, being seen did not make you want to hide. “Maybe.”
Logan’s eyes dipped to your mouth, then came back to yours like he was giving you every chance to change your mind. You didn’t. His hand lifted to your jaw, his thumb brushing lightly beneath your cheek, and the bouquet crinkled softly between you as he leaned in.
The kiss was gentle at first, almost a question, but it did not stay uncertain for long. You tipped closer, one hand curling into the front of his hoodie, and Logan made a quiet sound against your mouth that you felt more than heard. He kissed you like he had been waiting through the entire play for the chance, like every line you had spoken under the lights had somehow led him here, to the side steps of the theater with your first bouquet pressed between you.
When you pulled back, he stayed close, his forehead nearly touching yours.
“I’m still not auditioning,” you whispered.
Logan smiled against your mouth. “That’s fine.”
Then he kissed you again, and this time, you stopped thinking about the lights altogether.
all that matters - when borrowing steve’s car ends in an accident that leaves it completely wrecked, you’re left shaken and terrified of how he’ll react. except when he finds you, it’s painfully clear he couldn’t give a fuck about the damage.
Breaking In - after a rough fight and days of being ghosted, steve decides he can’t wait any longer to apologize. sneaking into your house at 2 a.m. sounds romantic in his head. in reality, it goes horribly wrong when you mistake him for an intruder.
By: @thebestandworstdayofjune
You can call me honey if you want - To you, he's always been Stevie. Until one day he's just Steve. He isn't handling the change well.
We can play house, we can bed down - Steve crashes girl's night, but now you're wondering why this wasn't the plan all along
By: @jetblack4real
momish - as the party’s designated babysitters, you really try to make good friends with their mothers.
top drawer - a perfect saturday goes a little bit wrong when the party witnesses a loud misunderstanding between you and steve
By: @underoospeterparker
to be so gently loved - Steve finds you after work at home, aching and exhausted from the mix of a long day and your period. He knows exactly how to make it better.
Favourite Discovery
scared me to death
I Wanna Know What Love Is (I Want You to Show Me) - The last time Steve's (now ex) girlfriend got drunk with him, she called their entire relationship bullshit and told him she didn't love him. Steve's current girlfriend now suffers the consequences because the man won't stop avoiding her when she get's drunk. By: @cielasolana
SOFT LIPS & FRECKLES - you wake up next to Steve and decide to wake him up by kissing each of his freckles. By: @melwnst
back off - You want a moment of Steve Harrington being the protective boyfriend? Here you go. By: @firelilyfox
No Do-Overs - Steve Harrington and his friends ruin your Romeo & Juliet callback, you vow to never speak to him ever again, and Steve vows to make it up to you. By: @wesmilethesameway
Summary: John Logan goes to therapy for the first time (he needs it!) he feels uncomfortable until he meets you.
word count: 1.2K
Warnings: mental health/therapy conversations!
Mango talks 🥭: Happy 4th of July! 🇺🇸 Guess who's back Divas! Sorry for the 6 month hiatus. (yikes! that's a long time. oops) I have been so busy with life I hadn’t had time to write, I’m so excited to be back :) Anyways, this is my first Off Campus fic! (I am still writing for Steve Harrington! Don’t worry, i will get to my requests soon) I am currently obsessed with Off Campus and John Logan so you will be seeing a lot more of this universe. As always, happy reading and love you guys!
————————————————————————
He just couldn’t get it right.
He tried to be still and comfortable in his seat but the more he tried the more annoyed he became. The waiting room was just too quiet. Way too peaceful Logan thought to himself. He really just didn’t fit into the image. John Logan was an ice hockey player. Not that being a hockey player meant he was some kind of barbaric caveman, but he was used to being in the center of an Ice rink with hundreds of people shouting his name for glory, he was used to the pressure and strain of the game, he was built for the chaos. Not therapy.
He didn’t want to talk about his feelings, but that’s where all the problems began, with the end of a shit match and a locker room intervention. He remembered how everyone looked at him, not with anger nor disappointment in how he played that day, just sadness like they wanted to reach out to him and give him a hug, which somehow was almost worse.
Suddenly, unlacing his shoes was the most intriguing thing in the room “Look, I know I messed up, my head’s just not in it, I’ll work on that.” He couldn’t bear to look anyone in the face.
He remembered what they all said, all the we’re here for yous, and we think you should open up more, but most importantly, coach stating that if he didn’t attempt at speaking to a professional, he’d be benched for the rest of the season.
So here he was, sitting uncomfortably in a waiting room that smelt of lavender essential oils, had framed pictures of the ocean, and posters that say corny ass shit like “you rock!” And “live, laugh, love.”
————————————————————————
The first thing you noticed when you walked into the waiting room was that the big sunset painting hanging in the upper left corner was now replaced by a smaller ocean painting, the second thing you noticed was the guy sitting under it. John Logan, one of Briar U’s top star athletes, and one of your “friend of a friend”. You didn’t know him very well, so you’re not sure what possessed you to say the next thing that came out of your mouth.
“I didn’t know hockey players had feelings.” God, you hoped he at least sort of found your joke amusing or else the room’s about to feel ten times smaller than it actually was. Sometimes your mouth runs faster than your mind and you ended up laying in your bed at 2AM remembering and regretting every word that has come out of your mouth that day.
He gave a small smirk and countered, “We don’t. It’s all an illusion.” That made you laugh. Good, guy has a sense of humor. It was a relief for him to see a friendly face, even if you guys have spoken a maximum of 10 words to each other, and mostly in the company of your friends Allie and Hannah. It’s not that he hasn’t noticed you or weren’t aware of your existence anything, in fact, it was the opposite, he really thought you lightened up every room you walked into, like you had a presence that was hard to ignore, and how nobody else noticed it but him? He had no clue. Sometimes he would inadvertently search for you in large crowds, something just draws himself to you, but of course he could never tell you, he never talked to you, but god he wanted to.
“First time?” you ask him. You remember your first therapy session, same uncomfortable scowl and the feeling like you just didn’t belong.
“Yeah, you?”
“Nope, uh, two years” it felt a little awkward to say. You weren’t embarrassed that you went to therapy, it was normal. People go to therapy for various reasons, sometimes just to chit chat and rant about their days. But sometimes people have negative reactions, sometimes people think you’re crazy or they suddenly have a weird look on your face that insinuates okay, definitely shouldn’t talk to this person. You cared what Logan thought of you and you’re not sure why.
“Oh, hm. Cool.” That’s it. Cool. He gave a little shrug and he smiles in a way that’s genuine. You sit there and can only think about how funny it is how you two have barely spoken but now know some of the most vulnerable things about each other. Beautiful in a silly fun way to say the least.
“This is weird for me” he speaks again, this time leaning in a little, purposeful? You’re not sure. “I’m not exactly talk-about-their-emotions guy”
“I see.” You understood that, for a while you weren’t either. You didn’t push, instead you say “In that case, what’s your outlet?”
Logan bites back a smile as he reminisces, “Going to one of Beau and Dean’s obnoxiously loud parties normally helps.”
“Sounds fun. I’m not a really big party person though.”
Logan’s smile drops and he quickly chimes in with a scoff “pfft- yeah no” he coughs, “parties are kind of lame anyways” he really wants to impress you. It’s embarassing to say the least. If any of the guys were here right now, they’d never let him live it down. In response you laugh, was that a good laugh or a bad laugh.
“They can’t be so bad if you’re there” You say it so off handedly, but now you realize how it sounds as it comes out, having one of those “mouth running faster than the brain” moments. You open your eyes so wide that it feels like they’re about to bulge out of your skull. Stupid stupid stupid. “Sorry- that didn’t come out the way it was supposed to.” Retracting the statement definitely made it worse. Logan just chuckled lightly in response. He had a cute laugh. So light, so mellow, so cool.
Logan couldn’t believe it, he was blushing. He could actively feel the heat crawling on his cheeks. Right now, he probably had three girls snapping him, five texting him to say “the bed’s not the same without you” and twenty different girls trying to follow him on instagram. Yet, what really got him and made his heart slightly flutter was you making a totally un-flirtatious offhanded comment. He’s screwed.
Logan feeling a little bold, finds the courage to flirt back (to your non-flirting): “well, then I guess you have to come to one and I guess then I’ll have to save you a dance.”
Your brain feels like it’s rebooting, you wish you could have some witty response back, but you just stare and melt under his gaze. He’s staring back at you, and for whatever reason, the whole situation feels much more intimate than it should be. You open your mouth to respond, but someone beats you to it.
“John Logan?” A voice calls “I’m ready for you.” The therapist. Right. The obvious real reason you two were both sitting in the waiting room, not to see who could break who first.
you smile and give him a polite little wave “give em hell”
As John Logan got up from his seat, catching one last glance at you, he had a thought.
Oh yeah, Tuesdays at 2:15 at therapy was totally going to be his new favorite part of his week.
————————————————————————
Mango talks 🥭: thank you so much for reading! As always, check out my other fics on my page xx
Summary: John Logan goes to therapy for the first time (he needs it!) he feels uncomfortable until he meets you.
word count: 1.2K
Warnings: mental health/therapy conversations!
Mango talks 🥭: Happy 4th of July! 🇺🇸 Guess who's back Divas! Sorry for the 6 month hiatus. (yikes! that's a long time. oops) I have been so busy with life I hadn’t had time to write, I’m so excited to be back :) Anyways, this is my first Off Campus fic! (I am still writing for Steve Harrington! Don’t worry, i will get to my requests soon) I am currently obsessed with Off Campus and John Logan so you will be seeing a lot more of this universe. As always, happy reading and love you guys!
————————————————————————
He just couldn’t get it right.
He tried to be still and comfortable in his seat but the more he tried the more annoyed he became. The waiting room was just too quiet. Way too peaceful Logan thought to himself. He really just didn’t fit into the image. John Logan was an ice hockey player. Not that being a hockey player meant he was some kind of barbaric caveman, but he was used to being in the center of an Ice rink with hundreds of people shouting his name for glory, he was used to the pressure and strain of the game, he was built for the chaos. Not therapy.
He didn’t want to talk about his feelings, but that’s where all the problems began, with the end of a shit match and a locker room intervention. He remembered how everyone looked at him, not with anger nor disappointment in how he played that day, just sadness like they wanted to reach out to him and give him a hug, which somehow was almost worse.
Suddenly, unlacing his shoes was the most intriguing thing in the room “Look, I know I messed up, my head’s just not in it, I’ll work on that.” He couldn’t bear to look anyone in the face.
He remembered what they all said, all the we’re here for yous, and we think you should open up more, but most importantly, coach stating that if he didn’t attempt at speaking to a professional, he’d be benched for the rest of the season.
So here he was, sitting uncomfortably in a waiting room that smelt of lavender essential oils, had framed pictures of the ocean, and posters that say corny ass shit like “you rock!” And “live, laugh, love.”
————————————————————————
The first thing you noticed when you walked into the waiting room was that the big sunset painting hanging in the upper left corner was now replaced by a smaller ocean painting, the second thing you noticed was the guy sitting under it. John Logan, one of Briar U’s top star athletes, and one of your “friend of a friend”. You didn’t know him very well, so you’re not sure what possessed you to say the next thing that came out of your mouth.
“I didn’t know hockey players had feelings.” God, you hoped he at least sort of found your joke amusing or else the room’s about to feel ten times smaller than it actually was. Sometimes your mouth runs faster than your mind and you ended up laying in your bed at 2AM remembering and regretting every word that has come out of your mouth that day.
He gave a small smirk and countered, “We don’t. It’s all an illusion.” That made you laugh. Good, guy has a sense of humor. It was a relief for him to see a friendly face, even if you guys have spoken a maximum of 10 words to each other, and mostly in the company of your friends Allie and Hannah. It’s not that he hasn’t noticed you or weren’t aware of your existence anything, in fact, it was the opposite, he really thought you lightened up every room you walked into, like you had a presence that was hard to ignore, and how nobody else noticed it but him? He had no clue. Sometimes he would inadvertently search for you in large crowds, something just draws himself to you, but of course he could never tell you, he never talked to you, but god he wanted to.
“First time?” you ask him. You remember your first therapy session, same uncomfortable scowl and the feeling like you just didn’t belong.
“Yeah, you?”
“Nope, uh, two years” it felt a little awkward to say. You weren’t embarrassed that you went to therapy, it was normal. People go to therapy for various reasons, sometimes just to chit chat and rant about their days. But sometimes people have negative reactions, sometimes people think you’re crazy or they suddenly have a weird look on your face that insinuates okay, definitely shouldn’t talk to this person. You cared what Logan thought of you and you’re not sure why.
“Oh, hm. Cool.” That’s it. Cool. He gave a little shrug and he smiles in a way that’s genuine. You sit there and can only think about how funny it is how you two have barely spoken but now know some of the most vulnerable things about each other. Beautiful in a silly fun way to say the least.
“This is weird for me” he speaks again, this time leaning in a little, purposeful? You’re not sure. “I’m not exactly talk-about-their-emotions guy”
“I see.” You understood that, for a while you weren’t either. You didn’t push, instead you say “In that case, what’s your outlet?”
Logan bites back a smile as he reminisces, “Going to one of Beau and Dean’s obnoxiously loud parties normally helps.”
“Sounds fun. I’m not a really big party person though.”
Logan’s smile drops and he quickly chimes in with a scoff “pfft- yeah no” he coughs, “parties are kind of lame anyways” he really wants to impress you. It’s embarassing to say the least. If any of the guys were here right now, they’d never let him live it down. In response you laugh, was that a good laugh or a bad laugh.
“They can’t be so bad if you’re there” You say it so off handedly, but now you realize how it sounds as it comes out, having one of those “mouth running faster than the brain” moments. You open your eyes so wide that it feels like they’re about to bulge out of your skull. Stupid stupid stupid. “Sorry- that didn’t come out the way it was supposed to.” Retracting the statement definitely made it worse. Logan just chuckled lightly in response. He had a cute laugh. So light, so mellow, so cool.
Logan couldn’t believe it, he was blushing. He could actively feel the heat crawling on his cheeks. Right now, he probably had three girls snapping him, five texting him to say “the bed’s not the same without you” and twenty different girls trying to follow him on instagram. Yet, what really got him and made his heart slightly flutter was you making a totally un-flirtatious offhanded comment. He’s screwed.
Logan feeling a little bold, finds the courage to flirt back (to your non-flirting): “well, then I guess you have to come to one and I guess then I’ll have to save you a dance.”
Your brain feels like it’s rebooting, you wish you could have some witty response back, but you just stare and melt under his gaze. He’s staring back at you, and for whatever reason, the whole situation feels much more intimate than it should be. You open your mouth to respond, but someone beats you to it.
“John Logan?” A voice calls “I’m ready for you.” The therapist. Right. The obvious real reason you two were both sitting in the waiting room, not to see who could break who first.
you smile and give him a polite little wave “give em hell”
As John Logan got up from his seat, catching one last glance at you, he had a thought.
Oh yeah, Tuesdays at 2:15 at therapy was totally going to be his new favorite part of his week.
————————————————————————
Mango talks 🥭: thank you so much for reading! As always, check out my other fics on my page xx
Woa such a wonderful writing you have ! It’s so cute and solder with just the angst it needs !
If you are okay with it, it would be nice to see a Steve Harrington x reader where he slowly fell for Dustin sister (who would be the reader) when she comes to family video. And she don’t think he can be interested in her because she is a little insecure when it comes to romance and also reserved at first.
I just can totally imagine Steve trying to ask her out all the time but she doesn’t get it or think it’s not fully serious and the others are just there waiting for this to FINALLY happening.
Oh it’s long sorry ahaha. But yeah your writing is just soooo nice ! 💕
Take a hint 💝
(Steve Harrington x Henderson!reader)
Summary: Steve Harrington keeps trying to ask you out with the help of Dustin, much to your obliviousness and insecurity.
Word count: 3.6K
🗒️: Insecurity, fem!reader, no use of y/n, angst, self doubt, etc.
Request: yes! (Requests are open!)
Mango talks 🥭: First off, Thanks to the lovely person who sent this request, I hope you enjoy. Secondly, hello lovely people! It’s been a while. Thought I’d drop this fic as a special gift in time for Valentine’s Day! Happy Valentine’s Day to all and sending virtual hugs, happy reading xx 💕💗
————————————————————————
Some people say falling in love feels quick, like being struck by lightning, but to Steve Harrington, it was slow, controlled, and came in the form of a curly haired girl who smiles at him just right.
Steve remembers his first real interaction with the older Henderson. It was sophomore year, there was a quiz in his biology class, (one he didn’t study for again) and while Steve thought he was doomed to repeat the class due to his D+ the usually silent girl next to him simply, and subtly, scooted her seat over a little closer to his desk and let him copy her answers. She didn’t smile at him or anything, she simply wrote down and bubbled her answers, and then waited for Steve to quickly copy it down before moving to the next page. By the end of it, she just grabbed her stuff, gave Steve a quick nod, and went on her merry way. Steve wishes he could give her a thank you or anything in return for this enormous gesture, but she was always just quiet, aloof, and nonchalant even, she didn’t seem like she ever wanted anything in return, she was just helping her desk neighbor out as a good deed.
Though Steve often passed her in the hallway, the two never interacted and their social lives never seemed to have the need to intertwine, they co-existed and that was fine. That was until the incident of ‘84, where the Hendersons’ cat got viciously mauled to death by a giant inter dimensional being, and the world almost ended.
It wasn’t until Steve jumped in the way of a Demo-Dog coming right at you and smacked it in the face with a bat full of nails that the two of you spoke. He remembered how you were taking exasperated breaths and gaining your footing again, grateful to be alive when you said to him: “You’re not half bad, Harrington,” and patted him on the arm before Dustin embraced you in the biggest bear hug ever, stating how he thought you were going to be a goner before Steve stepped up to save you. Even though that was the only words you’ve ever spoken to Steve up to that moment, he feels the words etched into his brain forever and the spot on his bicep imprinted with the ghost of your hand, and he’s not sure why.
When Dustin went away to camp, you hung out more with Steve and his co-worker Robin. Dustin used to say that you needed to make more friends, and that “your little brother being your best friend is devastating.” While you knew, yes, he was right. It didn’t matter. It’s not like you didn’t talk to other people, you were just not that interested in other people, and they weren’t interested in you either. However, Steve and you slowly became friends. You didn’t say much at first, but that’s okay with Steve, if you’re an observer, he’s okay with the one being observed. He will gladly fill the air and make jokes to see you chuckle even when you’re trying your best to seem withdrawn and indifferent. He found himself waiting for you during his shifts instead of waiting for girls to come in to try and win them over with pick up lines that ultimately get him a ‘You suck’ on Robin’s whiteboard. He had your ice cream pre-scooped, sprinkles and gummy bears on top, and at the ready for you even though Robin rolls her eyes at him and scoffs, “take it easy, Romeo.” To which Steve replies back saying he was just being a good friend, that’s what a good friend does. Right?
After all the Russians, the drugs, the world almost ending (again), you have been by his side, and he couldn’t ask for anything better. Through it all though, slowly but surely, he felt like he started seeing you a little differently. He started to notice little things. How he really liked when you put your curly hair into a ponytail and the way it looked like a little cloud swooshing side to side, how he loved the way you talk to Dustin, as your best friend and your equal, not just your little brother. How when you smile at him just right, his heart flutters and he feels like the most important boy in the whole world. Yeah, he liked you. After all these years. It hits him. But what can he do about it?
——————————————————————
The car has been dead silent. Dustin has been preoccupied with fixing his ham radio in the passenger seat, screws and little pieces all over the dashboard, and Steve has been eyeing him every so often, trying not to break a sweat while focusing on the road.
“Dustin” Steve coughs, no answer, Dustin’s too preoccupied with himself as always. Steve coughs again, which takes a lot of courage. “Dustin, hey. Henderson- can you..stop that for a second. I need to talk to you about something.”
“One second.” Steve’s never sweat this much in his life, his palms are so wet he’s not sure if he can continue to control the wheel. “Alright, what’s up?” Suddenly, now that Steve has Dustin’s full attention, his throat has gone dry and he can’t figure out how to say what he wants to.
“Your sister.” That’s a start. “She’s cool.” Steve mentally slaps himself in the face. Jesus Christ.
“Yeah.. she sure is.” Dustin’s eyes narrow, Steve’s up to something, he knows it. He can see the beads of sweat forming on Steve’s forehead and how Steve’s knuckles are turning white from grabbing the steering wheel. “Alright, what is this? What’s going on?”
“Nothing dude! I’m just saying! I’ve- I don’t know” Steve hesitates “I think I’m starting to notice that your sister’s” Dustin eyes him as if to say choose your words very carefully. “Your sister’s pretty, and nice, and smart, and like she’s just- cool. You know what I’m getting at?”
Ah.
“Oh, yeah I already knew you liked her” Dustin shrugged like it was old news, making Steve stare at him wide eyed like he had two heads. “I mean, it was pretty obvious, the way you stare, the way you’re always saving a seat for her during movie nights and shoving me off the couch. Everyone knows. I’m pretty sure Robin and Nancy made a bet to see how long it would take for you two to get together.” How could everyone have known? Steve didn’t even know until last week!
“So..” Steve mumbled, “how does that make you feel?” Listen, as much as Steve adored you, he was loyal to mini Henderson. Dustin was his best friend, and he had to give Steve his blessing to go and ask you out or Steve wouldn’t dare. Again, loyalty.
“I foresaw this happening, and at first, sure, I was a little apprehensive, but it’s not like you can body block a tsunami.” Dustin stares Steve down, just to wear him down a bit and make him nervous, he liked having this power. “ Alright, you have my blessing. But if you hurt her. I know where you live, and I’ll get El to hijack your dreams in the middle of the night and make you wish you were dead.”
Noted.
——————————————————————
Steve thought the hard part was over, but actually, the hard part was getting you to take him seriously.
“You know, I heard Enzo’s is pretty good” Steve blurted out randomly. You were helping him rewind VHS tapes at family video, you were in a rhythm until the sudden noise.
“Really? I’ve never thought about it” you replied quietly, there was no positive or negative indication in your tone, so Steve wasn’t really sure where to continue with that.
“Yeah, I mean, I haven’t been but I heard it’s great.” he eyed you carefully “we should go together sometime” he hoped that came out smoothly and cool as he imagined.
“Yeah okay” you smile. Victory! Steve can feel a wave of relief washing over him, when all of a sudden you perk up “we can take the gang with us, I remember Hop saying something about the breadsticks, the kids love breadsticks.” Fuck. Steve didn’t want to clarify, he felt too shy all of a sudden and wanted to crawl into his own skin.
The second time Steve tried to make a move was at movie night, this time in the Henderson house. The kids sat together on the floor, fighting over candy and arguing on stupid nerd shit Steve didn’t understand, Jonathan and Nancy were curled up on the love seat, leaving you, Steve, and Robin on the couch. As ‘The Thing’ played on the TV, Steve found himself trying to slowly inch and grab your hand. That was romantic, right? Every time he got close, he would inch back, he was being a chicken, but he felt like the closer he got, his hand felt like it was going to get burned. Robin is a witness to it all, she just wants to yell “Just do it already Dingus!” But to spare her friend, she just watches in agony. When you turn away from the TV, you notice Steve’s hand, and Steve feels caught, but he’s sort of relieved, he can stop pretending.
“Steve?” You whisper. He looks at you, god, you were so beautiful. “Are you scared?”
What. He shakes his head and stops daydreaming, “what! No. I’m not scared.” Robin snorts, god this is hilarious.
“It’s okay if you are” you give him a sweet smile, “we can hold hands- Robin, you too.” And there it was, Steve held your hand, you held Robin's hand. He felt snubbed and annoyed. This was humiliating.
Steve even tried to get mini Henderson to talk him up, try to pry into your love life, and maybe, though he’s hoping not, to figure out if there was another guy (or girl) you had your eyes on. He specifically told Dustin not to mention Steve’s crush on you, that was his moment and he didn’t need his thunder stolen.
Dustin knocks on your open door, watching you read your book so intently on your bed. “Sister.” Okay, he doesn’t know why he started it like that.
You look up from your book, confused “Uh, brother?”
“You know Steve.”
“Big hair? I believe I do, yes.” You tease, Steve’s hair was quite noticeable, and attractive.
“Yeah, Steve’s cool.. and you’re cool. You guys could be cool…together.” Dustin scratches his head and cringes to himself, this was dumb as hell, but it was Steve’s mistake for asking a fifteen year old teenage boy to hype him up.
“Dusty, what are you saying?”
“I think you and Steve would make a great” he looks down to the floor, afraid to meet your eyes “couple.” You completely put down your book now, you look perplexed, maybe uncomfortable even. Dustin’s scared he’s crossed a line, maybe you didn’t like Steve that way after all. Perhaps you were about to yell at him to get out and slam the door in his face.
You ran your fingers through Dustin’s hair and toddled his curls, “Dustin, I appreciate what you’re trying to do.” Is this the rejection? “But Steve, He doesn’t like me like that. At all.” Boy, you could not be so far off the mark. Steve lived and breathed you. “And that’s okay, I’ve come to terms with it, I’m just not the girl guys go for.” This stunned Dustin for a moment, it made his heart drop, because how could you, his older sister, the best person in the world, not be a girl anyone would go for? To him, you were a hero, a mover of worlds even. Any guy would be lucky to even be in your presence. “I’m not anything special, Dusty, sometimes I even forget I exist.” You laugh. Oh how that pained Dustin, he wished you knew how much you were loved, and how much you were capable of being somebody’s person. He marched to Steve with his intel, and now Steve was determined to make you understand how wanted you truly were.
———————
“Friday night. Go out with me.” There. Point blank, it was said, signed, and sealed. Steve cornered you inside of Family Video, during the same routine of helping him stack tapes back on the shelf, this time he needed you to know. Robin perks her head up, it’s finally happening and she gets to bear witness to it, she’s imagining who to call first about the news, maybe start with Nancy? That way she could tell Jonathan and Jonathan could tell Will, and the news gets passed from there.
The tape you were halfway putting back was now hanging off the edge of the shelf, you look at him, and he’s looking at you with pleading eyes. “Right, Friday night, uh huh” you reply back, sarcasm drapes over your tone in a teasing manner.
“I’m serious.” It wasn’t that Steve was getting annoyed with you per say, but he hated how you viewed yourself, that you could just be so entirely unloveable. He hated that. Because to him? Oh my god, to him you were everything.
“No- That’s the thing.” you drop everything you’re doing and turn to him, as much as you wanted this to be true, and to think that this wonderful, beautiful, gorgeous, kind boy standing in front of you could actually like you, there’s a smaller voice in the back of your head that tells you it just can’t be, that the laws of the universe wouldn’t allow this to happen to you. “You’re not serious.” It comes out harsher than you expect it to, “you’re not. Maybe you want to be, but you’re not. How could you be?” Your throat felt like it was swelling.
“Don’t mock me.” It came out in a harsh whisper.
“I’m not mocking you”
“You are. I mean why else would you be asking?” There goes the small voice in your head “I mean look at you and then look at me. It just doesn’t compute Steve.” You shrug, it just doesn’t compute.
“Is it so crazy that someone thinks that you’re wonderful?” It rolled off his tongue faster than his mind could catch up.
You stop your smile from lifting, butterflies swarm your stomach. He thinks you’re wonderful? You place your final tape on the shelf before looking at him, as you’re about to reply, the doorbell goes off, in comes the prettiest girl you’ve ever seen, the type of girl you’d imagine Steve with. He looks over at her for a second and then back at you. “Yeah. It is.” You grab him by the shoulder and turn him towards the girl who looked exactly like Brooke Shields, she was perfect. Just by the way she was playing with her hair and looking at Steve, you could tell she was interested in him. You point, “That’s your girl for Friday night.” You simply state before walking out of Family Video. You’re doing him a favor.
Robin coughs loudly, “I can help you over here” she smiles at the girl.
And while the Brooke Shields wannabe was looking at Steve, he wasn’t interested at all. He could only watch you leave Family Video. He didn’t want just any girl on Friday night, he wanted his girl on Friday night.
—————————————————
Friday night rolled over, and while you were in bed reading and blasting Blondie, you couldn’t help but think of what Steve was doing right now. He was probably with the girl you suggested he take out, and to be honest, you’re cursing yourself for that. She was probably all dolled up and beautiful, and he was probably walking up to her door with a bouquet of flowers he especially picked for her. God you hated that. You let yourself self sabotage again, you just don’t know when to quit. Suddenly the words on the page weren’t legible and you continued making scenarios of Steve on his date, what if they kiss? Rage fills within you, but you couldn’t complain. You caused this.
Clank clank clank little taps come from your window in a repeated fashion. You grab a bat on the way over to investigate the noise, you’ve been chased, beaten up, and almost killed by monsters, you know the drill. You carefully peer by the window and look down, it was no monster.
“Hey” Steve looked back up at you, a soft smile on his face like a little shy boy.
“You lost?” you ask, looking down at him while leaning against your window, Steve swears you look like an angel up there.
“Nah, I’m right where I want to be. Wait there.” Steve went out of view for a second, grabbing something heavy, you hear his little grunts before he lifts it above his head, a boombox. Soon, a melody fills the air. Your favorite song. He swayed his hips to the beat, making you crack a smile and tried your best not to laugh.
“You’ll wake the neighbors.” As sweet as this whole sight is, Mrs. Kaminsky shooting Steve in the head with a shotgun on your front lawn would not be. She’s very particular about her sleep. “I’m coming down” you throw on a jacket before racing down the stairs and opening your front door, Steve stood with his hands in his pockets, biting his tongue from spilling out everything he needed to say.
“That was quite the grand gesture.” You and Steve stood awkwardly on the front lawn, you were waiting for Steve to explain what he was doing at your house with a boombox, and Steve was finding the courage to tell you how he felt. Steve paced a little bit, holding his hand to his mouth while you eyed him confusingly.
“Look” he started, taking a deep breath in like he was about to ramble, “the thing you said about us not computing or whatever- I don’t care.” A shrug falls on his shoulders and he looks at you with pleading eyes, “I don’t care at all. You need someone to show you how easy to love you are, and I’m just volunteering.” He puts his hand up, "I love everything about you. Not just because you’re pretty, and not just because you’re smart. I love the way you treat the kids. I love the way you act annoyed when Dustin asks you to take him to the arcade but then you don’t just drop him off, you spend time with him and then take him to get sundaes afterwards. I love the way you force everyone to go to Lucas’s basketball games to cheer him and Robin on and you bring the biggest sign known to man kind.”
“Steve”
“Hold on, I’m not done. I love the way you help rewind and shelf tapes at Family Video and you don’t even work there!” That’s true. You’re basically just doing free manual labour, but it was fun to spend time with Robin and Steve, especially Steve. “I love the way you eat gummy bears head first because you think they’d feel less pain that way and I love the way you put your stuffed animals in pairs to make sure they don’t get lonely and none of them are left out.”
“You notice that?” It was such a simple thing, being noticed and known, but it made your heart soar, maybe he was serious about you after all, and maybe you were easier to love than you believed.
“Of course I do,” he said absent mindedly, like it was first nature for him. “Listen, Henderson, you’re it for me, okay?”
“Steve-“
“Being around you isn’t a chore, it’s my favorite thing because you’re my favorite person. You’re the first person I think of when I wake up in the morning and the last person I think about before I go to bed.”
“Steve-”
“Because I want you, and I’m going to keep trying, because you are special and I’m going to keep reminding you of that until you believe it” Steve continued rambling on and on, you didn’t realize a person could have so much to say about you, especially when you didn’t have much to say about yourself.
“Does tomorrow work for you? 7PM?”
It’s like Steve hit the brakes in his head, processing what you just asked, he forgets to breathe and his voice a little stuttery as he repeats what you said back to you, not for you, but just so he can retain the question by hearing it out loud so he could give a solid answer, especially since he couldn’t believe his ears. “Tomorrow. 7pm, yes- okay.” He really wasn’t sure what to do now, when planning with Dustin, they both really thought you would never say yes and Steve might just have to be a lonely bachelor for life. “That’s uh, that’s perfect, I’ll pick you up.”
“I’ll be the girl waiting in the nice dress” you lean forward to give him a little kiss on the cheek before walking back inside, leaving Steve completely enamored by you, he couldn’t wait until tomorrow, he’s going to be thinking about this moment all night. “Goodnight Steve.” Steve waved goodbye before getting into his beamer, smiling like he just got a 2 for 1 deal on Farrah Fawcett spray. Something must’ve been in the air because you could only smile the same way when you closed the front door, biting back a larger grin, you were going to sleep well tonight.
Woa such a wonderful writing you have ! It’s so cute and solder with just the angst it needs !
If you are okay with it, it would be nice to see a Steve Harrington x reader where he slowly fell for Dustin sister (who would be the reader) when she comes to family video. And she don’t think he can be interested in her because she is a little insecure when it comes to romance and also reserved at first.
I just can totally imagine Steve trying to ask her out all the time but she doesn’t get it or think it’s not fully serious and the others are just there waiting for this to FINALLY happening.
Oh it’s long sorry ahaha. But yeah your writing is just soooo nice ! 💕
Take a hint 💝
(Steve Harrington x Henderson!reader)
Summary: Steve Harrington keeps trying to ask you out with the help of Dustin, much to your obliviousness and insecurity.
Word count: 3.6K
🗒️: Insecurity, fem!reader, no use of y/n, angst, self doubt, etc.
Request: yes! (Requests are open!)
Mango talks 🥭: First off, Thanks to the lovely person who sent this request, I hope you enjoy. Secondly, hello lovely people! It’s been a while. Thought I’d drop this fic as a special gift in time for Valentine’s Day! Happy Valentine’s Day to all and sending virtual hugs, happy reading xx 💕💗
————————————————————————
Some people say falling in love feels quick, like being struck by lightning, but to Steve Harrington, it was slow, controlled, and came in the form of a curly haired girl who smiles at him just right.
Steve remembers his first real interaction with the older Henderson. It was sophomore year, there was a quiz in his biology class, (one he didn’t study for again) and while Steve thought he was doomed to repeat the class due to his D+ the usually silent girl next to him simply, and subtly, scooted her seat over a little closer to his desk and let him copy her answers. She didn’t smile at him or anything, she simply wrote down and bubbled her answers, and then waited for Steve to quickly copy it down before moving to the next page. By the end of it, she just grabbed her stuff, gave Steve a quick nod, and went on her merry way. Steve wishes he could give her a thank you or anything in return for this enormous gesture, but she was always just quiet, aloof, and nonchalant even, she didn’t seem like she ever wanted anything in return, she was just helping her desk neighbor out as a good deed.
Though Steve often passed her in the hallway, the two never interacted and their social lives never seemed to have the need to intertwine, they co-existed and that was fine. That was until the incident of ‘84, where the Hendersons’ cat got viciously mauled to death by a giant inter dimensional being, and the world almost ended.
It wasn’t until Steve jumped in the way of a Demo-Dog coming right at you and smacked it in the face with a bat full of nails that the two of you spoke. He remembered how you were taking exasperated breaths and gaining your footing again, grateful to be alive when you said to him: “You’re not half bad, Harrington,” and patted him on the arm before Dustin embraced you in the biggest bear hug ever, stating how he thought you were going to be a goner before Steve stepped up to save you. Even though that was the only words you’ve ever spoken to Steve up to that moment, he feels the words etched into his brain forever and the spot on his bicep imprinted with the ghost of your hand, and he’s not sure why.
When Dustin went away to camp, you hung out more with Steve and his co-worker Robin. Dustin used to say that you needed to make more friends, and that “your little brother being your best friend is devastating.” While you knew, yes, he was right. It didn’t matter. It’s not like you didn’t talk to other people, you were just not that interested in other people, and they weren’t interested in you either. However, Steve and you slowly became friends. You didn’t say much at first, but that’s okay with Steve, if you’re an observer, he’s okay with the one being observed. He will gladly fill the air and make jokes to see you chuckle even when you’re trying your best to seem withdrawn and indifferent. He found himself waiting for you during his shifts instead of waiting for girls to come in to try and win them over with pick up lines that ultimately get him a ‘You suck’ on Robin’s whiteboard. He had your ice cream pre-scooped, sprinkles and gummy bears on top, and at the ready for you even though Robin rolls her eyes at him and scoffs, “take it easy, Romeo.” To which Steve replies back saying he was just being a good friend, that’s what a good friend does. Right?
After all the Russians, the drugs, the world almost ending (again), you have been by his side, and he couldn’t ask for anything better. Through it all though, slowly but surely, he felt like he started seeing you a little differently. He started to notice little things. How he really liked when you put your curly hair into a ponytail and the way it looked like a little cloud swooshing side to side, how he loved the way you talk to Dustin, as your best friend and your equal, not just your little brother. How when you smile at him just right, his heart flutters and he feels like the most important boy in the whole world. Yeah, he liked you. After all these years. It hits him. But what can he do about it?
——————————————————————
The car has been dead silent. Dustin has been preoccupied with fixing his ham radio in the passenger seat, screws and little pieces all over the dashboard, and Steve has been eyeing him every so often, trying not to break a sweat while focusing on the road.
“Dustin” Steve coughs, no answer, Dustin’s too preoccupied with himself as always. Steve coughs again, which takes a lot of courage. “Dustin, hey. Henderson- can you..stop that for a second. I need to talk to you about something.”
“One second.” Steve’s never sweat this much in his life, his palms are so wet he’s not sure if he can continue to control the wheel. “Alright, what’s up?” Suddenly, now that Steve has Dustin’s full attention, his throat has gone dry and he can’t figure out how to say what he wants to.
“Your sister.” That’s a start. “She’s cool.” Steve mentally slaps himself in the face. Jesus Christ.
“Yeah.. she sure is.” Dustin’s eyes narrow, Steve’s up to something, he knows it. He can see the beads of sweat forming on Steve’s forehead and how Steve’s knuckles are turning white from grabbing the steering wheel. “Alright, what is this? What’s going on?”
“Nothing dude! I’m just saying! I’ve- I don’t know” Steve hesitates “I think I’m starting to notice that your sister’s” Dustin eyes him as if to say choose your words very carefully. “Your sister’s pretty, and nice, and smart, and like she’s just- cool. You know what I’m getting at?”
Ah.
“Oh, yeah I already knew you liked her” Dustin shrugged like it was old news, making Steve stare at him wide eyed like he had two heads. “I mean, it was pretty obvious, the way you stare, the way you’re always saving a seat for her during movie nights and shoving me off the couch. Everyone knows. I’m pretty sure Robin and Nancy made a bet to see how long it would take for you two to get together.” How could everyone have known? Steve didn’t even know until last week!
“So..” Steve mumbled, “how does that make you feel?” Listen, as much as Steve adored you, he was loyal to mini Henderson. Dustin was his best friend, and he had to give Steve his blessing to go and ask you out or Steve wouldn’t dare. Again, loyalty.
“I foresaw this happening, and at first, sure, I was a little apprehensive, but it’s not like you can body block a tsunami.” Dustin stares Steve down, just to wear him down a bit and make him nervous, he liked having this power. “ Alright, you have my blessing. But if you hurt her. I know where you live, and I’ll get El to hijack your dreams in the middle of the night and make you wish you were dead.”
Noted.
——————————————————————
Steve thought the hard part was over, but actually, the hard part was getting you to take him seriously.
“You know, I heard Enzo’s is pretty good” Steve blurted out randomly. You were helping him rewind VHS tapes at family video, you were in a rhythm until the sudden noise.
“Really? I’ve never thought about it” you replied quietly, there was no positive or negative indication in your tone, so Steve wasn’t really sure where to continue with that.
“Yeah, I mean, I haven’t been but I heard it’s great.” he eyed you carefully “we should go together sometime” he hoped that came out smoothly and cool as he imagined.
“Yeah okay” you smile. Victory! Steve can feel a wave of relief washing over him, when all of a sudden you perk up “we can take the gang with us, I remember Hop saying something about the breadsticks, the kids love breadsticks.” Fuck. Steve didn’t want to clarify, he felt too shy all of a sudden and wanted to crawl into his own skin.
The second time Steve tried to make a move was at movie night, this time in the Henderson house. The kids sat together on the floor, fighting over candy and arguing on stupid nerd shit Steve didn’t understand, Jonathan and Nancy were curled up on the love seat, leaving you, Steve, and Robin on the couch. As ‘The Thing’ played on the TV, Steve found himself trying to slowly inch and grab your hand. That was romantic, right? Every time he got close, he would inch back, he was being a chicken, but he felt like the closer he got, his hand felt like it was going to get burned. Robin is a witness to it all, she just wants to yell “Just do it already Dingus!” But to spare her friend, she just watches in agony. When you turn away from the TV, you notice Steve’s hand, and Steve feels caught, but he’s sort of relieved, he can stop pretending.
“Steve?” You whisper. He looks at you, god, you were so beautiful. “Are you scared?”
What. He shakes his head and stops daydreaming, “what! No. I’m not scared.” Robin snorts, god this is hilarious.
“It’s okay if you are” you give him a sweet smile, “we can hold hands- Robin, you too.” And there it was, Steve held your hand, you held Robin's hand. He felt snubbed and annoyed. This was humiliating.
Steve even tried to get mini Henderson to talk him up, try to pry into your love life, and maybe, though he’s hoping not, to figure out if there was another guy (or girl) you had your eyes on. He specifically told Dustin not to mention Steve’s crush on you, that was his moment and he didn’t need his thunder stolen.
Dustin knocks on your open door, watching you read your book so intently on your bed. “Sister.” Okay, he doesn’t know why he started it like that.
You look up from your book, confused “Uh, brother?”
“You know Steve.”
“Big hair? I believe I do, yes.” You tease, Steve’s hair was quite noticeable, and attractive.
“Yeah, Steve’s cool.. and you’re cool. You guys could be cool…together.” Dustin scratches his head and cringes to himself, this was dumb as hell, but it was Steve’s mistake for asking a fifteen year old teenage boy to hype him up.
“Dusty, what are you saying?”
“I think you and Steve would make a great” he looks down to the floor, afraid to meet your eyes “couple.” You completely put down your book now, you look perplexed, maybe uncomfortable even. Dustin’s scared he’s crossed a line, maybe you didn’t like Steve that way after all. Perhaps you were about to yell at him to get out and slam the door in his face.
You ran your fingers through Dustin’s hair and toddled his curls, “Dustin, I appreciate what you’re trying to do.” Is this the rejection? “But Steve, He doesn’t like me like that. At all.” Boy, you could not be so far off the mark. Steve lived and breathed you. “And that’s okay, I’ve come to terms with it, I’m just not the girl guys go for.” This stunned Dustin for a moment, it made his heart drop, because how could you, his older sister, the best person in the world, not be a girl anyone would go for? To him, you were a hero, a mover of worlds even. Any guy would be lucky to even be in your presence. “I’m not anything special, Dusty, sometimes I even forget I exist.” You laugh. Oh how that pained Dustin, he wished you knew how much you were loved, and how much you were capable of being somebody’s person. He marched to Steve with his intel, and now Steve was determined to make you understand how wanted you truly were.
———————
“Friday night. Go out with me.” There. Point blank, it was said, signed, and sealed. Steve cornered you inside of Family Video, during the same routine of helping him stack tapes back on the shelf, this time he needed you to know. Robin perks her head up, it’s finally happening and she gets to bear witness to it, she’s imagining who to call first about the news, maybe start with Nancy? That way she could tell Jonathan and Jonathan could tell Will, and the news gets passed from there.
The tape you were halfway putting back was now hanging off the edge of the shelf, you look at him, and he’s looking at you with pleading eyes. “Right, Friday night, uh huh” you reply back, sarcasm drapes over your tone in a teasing manner.
“I’m serious.” It wasn’t that Steve was getting annoyed with you per say, but he hated how you viewed yourself, that you could just be so entirely unloveable. He hated that. Because to him? Oh my god, to him you were everything.
“No- That’s the thing.” you drop everything you’re doing and turn to him, as much as you wanted this to be true, and to think that this wonderful, beautiful, gorgeous, kind boy standing in front of you could actually like you, there’s a smaller voice in the back of your head that tells you it just can’t be, that the laws of the universe wouldn’t allow this to happen to you. “You’re not serious.” It comes out harsher than you expect it to, “you’re not. Maybe you want to be, but you’re not. How could you be?” Your throat felt like it was swelling.
“Don’t mock me.” It came out in a harsh whisper.
“I’m not mocking you”
“You are. I mean why else would you be asking?” There goes the small voice in your head “I mean look at you and then look at me. It just doesn’t compute Steve.” You shrug, it just doesn’t compute.
“Is it so crazy that someone thinks that you’re wonderful?” It rolled off his tongue faster than his mind could catch up.
You stop your smile from lifting, butterflies swarm your stomach. He thinks you’re wonderful? You place your final tape on the shelf before looking at him, as you’re about to reply, the doorbell goes off, in comes the prettiest girl you’ve ever seen, the type of girl you’d imagine Steve with. He looks over at her for a second and then back at you. “Yeah. It is.” You grab him by the shoulder and turn him towards the girl who looked exactly like Brooke Shields, she was perfect. Just by the way she was playing with her hair and looking at Steve, you could tell she was interested in him. You point, “That’s your girl for Friday night.” You simply state before walking out of Family Video. You’re doing him a favor.
Robin coughs loudly, “I can help you over here” she smiles at the girl.
And while the Brooke Shields wannabe was looking at Steve, he wasn’t interested at all. He could only watch you leave Family Video. He didn’t want just any girl on Friday night, he wanted his girl on Friday night.
—————————————————
Friday night rolled over, and while you were in bed reading and blasting Blondie, you couldn’t help but think of what Steve was doing right now. He was probably with the girl you suggested he take out, and to be honest, you’re cursing yourself for that. She was probably all dolled up and beautiful, and he was probably walking up to her door with a bouquet of flowers he especially picked for her. God you hated that. You let yourself self sabotage again, you just don’t know when to quit. Suddenly the words on the page weren’t legible and you continued making scenarios of Steve on his date, what if they kiss? Rage fills within you, but you couldn’t complain. You caused this.
Clank clank clank little taps come from your window in a repeated fashion. You grab a bat on the way over to investigate the noise, you’ve been chased, beaten up, and almost killed by monsters, you know the drill. You carefully peer by the window and look down, it was no monster.
“Hey” Steve looked back up at you, a soft smile on his face like a little shy boy.
“You lost?” you ask, looking down at him while leaning against your window, Steve swears you look like an angel up there.
“Nah, I’m right where I want to be. Wait there.” Steve went out of view for a second, grabbing something heavy, you hear his little grunts before he lifts it above his head, a boombox. Soon, a melody fills the air. Your favorite song. He swayed his hips to the beat, making you crack a smile and tried your best not to laugh.
“You’ll wake the neighbors.” As sweet as this whole sight is, Mrs. Kaminsky shooting Steve in the head with a shotgun on your front lawn would not be. She’s very particular about her sleep. “I’m coming down” you throw on a jacket before racing down the stairs and opening your front door, Steve stood with his hands in his pockets, biting his tongue from spilling out everything he needed to say.
“That was quite the grand gesture.” You and Steve stood awkwardly on the front lawn, you were waiting for Steve to explain what he was doing at your house with a boombox, and Steve was finding the courage to tell you how he felt. Steve paced a little bit, holding his hand to his mouth while you eyed him confusingly.
“Look” he started, taking a deep breath in like he was about to ramble, “the thing you said about us not computing or whatever- I don’t care.” A shrug falls on his shoulders and he looks at you with pleading eyes, “I don’t care at all. You need someone to show you how easy to love you are, and I’m just volunteering.” He puts his hand up, "I love everything about you. Not just because you’re pretty, and not just because you’re smart. I love the way you treat the kids. I love the way you act annoyed when Dustin asks you to take him to the arcade but then you don’t just drop him off, you spend time with him and then take him to get sundaes afterwards. I love the way you force everyone to go to Lucas’s basketball games to cheer him and Robin on and you bring the biggest sign known to man kind.”
“Steve”
“Hold on, I’m not done. I love the way you help rewind and shelf tapes at Family Video and you don’t even work there!” That’s true. You’re basically just doing free manual labour, but it was fun to spend time with Robin and Steve, especially Steve. “I love the way you eat gummy bears head first because you think they’d feel less pain that way and I love the way you put your stuffed animals in pairs to make sure they don’t get lonely and none of them are left out.”
“You notice that?” It was such a simple thing, being noticed and known, but it made your heart soar, maybe he was serious about you after all, and maybe you were easier to love than you believed.
“Of course I do,” he said absent mindedly, like it was first nature for him. “Listen, Henderson, you’re it for me, okay?”
“Steve-“
“Being around you isn’t a chore, it’s my favorite thing because you’re my favorite person. You’re the first person I think of when I wake up in the morning and the last person I think about before I go to bed.”
“Steve-”
“Because I want you, and I’m going to keep trying, because you are special and I’m going to keep reminding you of that until you believe it” Steve continued rambling on and on, you didn’t realize a person could have so much to say about you, especially when you didn’t have much to say about yourself.
“Does tomorrow work for you? 7PM?”
It’s like Steve hit the brakes in his head, processing what you just asked, he forgets to breathe and his voice a little stuttery as he repeats what you said back to you, not for you, but just so he can retain the question by hearing it out loud so he could give a solid answer, especially since he couldn’t believe his ears. “Tomorrow. 7pm, yes- okay.” He really wasn’t sure what to do now, when planning with Dustin, they both really thought you would never say yes and Steve might just have to be a lonely bachelor for life. “That’s uh, that’s perfect, I’ll pick you up.”
“I’ll be the girl waiting in the nice dress” you lean forward to give him a little kiss on the cheek before walking back inside, leaving Steve completely enamored by you, he couldn’t wait until tomorrow, he’s going to be thinking about this moment all night. “Goodnight Steve.” Steve waved goodbye before getting into his beamer, smiling like he just got a 2 for 1 deal on Farrah Fawcett spray. Something must’ve been in the air because you could only smile the same way when you closed the front door, biting back a larger grin, you were going to sleep well tonight.
Summary: Being Steve Harrington and Spider-Man is hard to balance. Love life is an absolute no, but when Steve gets hurt while fighting crime, he knows exactly which window to crawl through.
Word count: 5.6K (sorry, it’s a long one!)
🗒️: modern!Au, Steve is emotionally and physically neglected! Sorry! Angst! Cause yk me! Steve gets hurt, mentions of blood, etc. x reader, no use of y/n, probably not very good writing
Request: Yes!
Mango talks 🥭 : hello! It’s been a while, I’m so sorry for the delay on this fic. Life’s been crazy! I rushed a sorority so I’ve been focusing on that. Not really sure how I feel but, hey! We all gotta try new things! I hope you enjoy reading spider-man Steve, I really love this concept. Once again, requests are open, if you sent me a request I have seen it and will get to it soon! Thanks again, happy reading xx 💕
Oh, side note, I tried to make the reader in this fic more gender neutral! Wanted to try it out and be more inclusive :)
————————————————————-
It had been exactly 409 days since Steve found out he:
Could now crawl on and stick to walls.
Has precognitive senses that alerts him about danger, which he coined the “Steve-sensation.” He chuckled to himself at his own cleverness when he thought of this.
Has superhuman strength and durability, and was strong as shit. He was strong before, sure, but now he was basically like the Hulk. He could now also pull bets and pranks on his friends.
“Lucas, Watch me bench press this”
“No way dude- that shit’s too heavy” Lucas sneered.
“I’ll bet you five bucks”
“You’re on.”
Steve was now five bucks richer.
He also had fast healing. All his basketball injuries from getting shoved and thrown around (purposefully) by Billy Hargrove on the court were all gone in the next day or two. He enjoyed watching Billy’s face turn into a big fat tomato full of anger and confusion due to the fact that pretty boy Steve Harrington was unbreakable somehow.
Safe to say, Steve’s powers were pretty cool. They helped him realize he now had a purpose, which he never thought he had before. To protect the little guy. That was always his thing, he was the protector and the babysitter, he put himself in front of danger to spare the lives of the people he loved. If he could make New York City a little safer for his friends, no, they were his family, he would gladly get beat to a pulp every night.
It was really lonely though, not being able to tell anyone about his newfound superpowers. Steve figured the more people knew, the more danger everyone would be in. So every night, he would go on patrol around the city, beat up muggers and bad guys, get beat up himself, get home at three in the morning, do a really shit job at patching himself up, go to bed, and then wake up the next morning for school and repeat the routine the following night.
He didn’t have to do much sneaking around with his parents being emotionally and physically negligent, but somehow it made him feel worse. He hated knowing he was coming home in the middle of the night and nobody cared. No light left on, no parents standing on the front porch pacing, and no one to scold him with “Steven Harrington! Do you have any idea how late it is?” Or “we were worried sick about you!” Because nobody knew. And nobody cared.
That was until day 233. Steve was sure he was alone one night in his giant empty house. Cuts on his face for display, bruises around his eyes, and surely a broken nose. All he wanted was to take off his suit and crash on to his bed, maybe even hang upside down for a bit to decompress, but when he took his mask off in his bedroom and sighed the sound of relief, he heard a giant thud outside of his bedroom door.
Robin’s mouth was agape, her soda slightly hanging from her lips, and Dustin had dropped his bucket of popcorn on the hallway floor before slowly pointing at Steve.
“WHAT THE FUCK-“
————————————————————-
Dustin and Robin had way too many questions. A lot of who’s, when’s, why’s, and where’s. Though they were both loud, obnoxious,and absolutely terrible at keeping their mouths shut, they swore themselves to secrecy. They knew the gravity of the situation they were in and the importance of keeping Steve’s identity a secret. It just kind of blew their minds that their best friend, Steve the Hair Harrington, co-captain of the basketball team, and king of their high school, was Spider-Man. Seriously. It started to make Dustin question whether he could have any secret superpowers he had no idea about.
Dustin and Robin proved themselves to be very helpful in Steve’s endeavors. They were now Steve's “guys in the chair” whatever the hell that means. Dustin, being the super nerdy genius that he is, was able to create web fluid for Steve so he could easily get from place to place by swinging.
“I introduce to you” Dustin pulls his arms out and gives some enthusiastic jazz hands “web fluid!” ta da! he mouthed.
“Why don’t we call it uh” Steve puts his hands on his hips, he looked perplexed, “I don’t know..Steve’s spider string?”
“It’s web fluid, Steve!” Dustin scolded, “that I created! With my genius! not some silly string you picked up from a Five-below!”
“Jeez okay- I’m just saying, I’m pretty good at naming things, you ever heard of my Steve-sensation?” Dustin face-palmed. This guy was saving New York City? He was actually quite pleased though, Steve was his role model in his everyday life (not that Steve needed to know and inflate his ego) and Spider-Man was his cool-vigilante role model, now he could just mix and morph them together as the same person.
Robin really had no clue that Steve was the guy dressed in a red and blue skin tight suit parading around the city fighting crime. Whenever he came into class looking like a zombie with a few cuts on his face, she just kind of assumed he was with a girl the previous night, and they got a little, well, freaky. Now that she knew what was really going on it made her heart ache to think that he was doing this all alone, she blamed herself for not noticing something was wrong with him, it was her job as his friend. She could’ve helped in little ways, like maybe doing his homework for him while he was on patrol, or taking notes so he wouldn’t have fallen behind. For Christ sake, he was literally bringing crime rates down all over New York City, and he doesn’t get anything from it except an F in history, hate from the New York Police Department, and getting scolded by his basketball coach for not having his head in the game anymore. Robin was glad she could help, even if it was something as small as being navigation and listening in with Dustin on the police scanner.
———————————————————————
“Okay, on your left” Robin spoke into her walkie, she liked being the guy in the chair, it was like she was in a spy movie.
“Okay” Steve was panting as he was swinging, “ damn it- it’s just a wall in an alley. Are you sure it was left?”
“Oh! Sorry, shit-um, my left, your right.”
“Robin?”
“Yeah?”
“I think we have the same left right now.”
“Oh.” She grimaces, “go right.”
Steve sighed, making his way out of the alley. As he was swinging out, he caught a glimpse of an angel. You.
Suddenly Steve forgot where he was and what he was doing, he forgot he was in his bright tight suit, all he could focus on was you and how you looked with earbuds in your ears, walking the sidewalk, looking gorgeous as ever. People rushed by you, scattered around like ants, but he couldn’t take his eyes off you for a second. Did you always wear your hair like that? Was that jacket you were wearing new? There were so many things he wanted to say, just not enough time.
You two were lab partners last year and you saved his ass multiple times. Steve and chemistry just don’t mix (well, not unless it came to you.) You never made him feel stupid or rolled your eyes when you found out you were partnered with him, if he didn’t know something you’d simply explain to the best of your ability. Eventually the flirting but totally not flirting began, the glancing at each other from across the hallway, the need to lightly graze each other's hands during lab but the feeling like you’re going to get burned. It all felt real, that was until Steve became Spider-Man. His entire world flipped upside down and everything he knew suddenly wasn’t legible anymore. He remembered asking you on a date and when you said yes, he remembered jumping up and down in the hallway when nobody was there because he couldn’t hold in his excitement any longer, but he also remembers having to cancel on you at the last minute when there were thugs doing a major car robbery downtown. He rescheduled, once again excited, only to have to cancel due to a big heist going down at the bank. Then again. And again. And again.
Every single time, he could see the hurt in your eyes, and your voice low, like a whisper, saying, “we don’t have to do this.” No. No. He swears on everything, he wants this, he wants it so bad. He wants you so bad. When he tells you, you just don’t believe him anymore. And he can’t blame you. You tell him you’re starting to feel like an inside joke he probably has with his friends. A joke about how desperate you can get and how far along you’ll let him drag you. You tell him you’re not a plaything like the girls he hooks up with. Girls he purposely stopped meeting up with because he wanted something real and permanent with you, but you don’t know that. You finally tell him that if he wants to make this real, if he wants to put effort into you and treat you right, you’ll be waiting for his call.
But the call never comes. Because he knew.
He knew he could never treat you right while balancing this other part of himself that he couldn’t tell you about. He couldn’t even plan one date with you without something getting in the way. How did he plan on trying to start a relationship with you that was either built on lies or empty promises? It was dangerous, and the more people he let in, the more people he could lose, and he couldn’t bear to lose you. He needed to put his own desires and his selfishness aside, he had a duty and a responsibility to protect the citizens of New York City, but especially you. He could beat himself up ten times over, but it helped him sleep a little easier knowing he made the streets safer for you to walk down. His absence confirmed to you that you were a joke, and as much as it broke his heart, it was a price he was willing to pay to keep you safe.
He watched you from afar, all the time. In class when he should’ve been catching up on either his lack of sleep or paying attention to a class he was failing. He watched you smile in the hallways and how your smile falters when you see him and try to ignore his presence. It’s a little creepy, he knows, but he watches you when you roam the streets at night, on the notion that he wanted to make sure you got home safely, because he’s Spider-Man and that’s what the hero does, (definitely not also because he wants to see you.) All he wants to do now is run up to you and come clean. Something on the lines of “yes, I’m Spider-Man. I've been hiding it for a year. I’m sorry about that. Do you want to kiss now?” But he can’t do that. So he just watches.
“Steve!” Dustin shouts in his ear, the crackling making Steve screech a little in pain. With all his focus on the beautiful creature in front of him, he forgot Dustin and Robin were watching as well.
“Jesus- Henderson, I’m here. What?” Steve responds back in his ear piece. Still having his eyes on you.
“Would you stop staring at your one that got away and instead focus on the fact that the truck you were supposed to stop is about to crash into town hall! Like right now!”
“You’re right- You’re right, I’m on my way” and just like that, Steve takes one last glance at you before swinging to save the day. As he leaves, you turn your head to look at the rooftop adjacent from you. You felt like a presence was watching, but not in a creepy or scary way, like a guardian angel was watching over you.
———————————————————————
If you’re in a fight, with multiple people, and you turn around, and some douchebag hits you in the head with a brick, you’re probably going to lose. And lose bad. Doesn’t matter if you have superhuman abilities, a brick to the head is a brick to the head.
Laying painfully on the building’s rooftop, Steve could barely feel his limbs. At first he was not actually sure if his left leg was attached to his body, but he looked down, phew, still there. His vision was hazy, his ears were ringing, and the large quantities of blood exiting his body was starting to get unbearable.
“Steve!” Dustin screams into his walkie, “Steve are you dead?” Steve could imagine Robin pacing frantically behind Dustin when he heard her yell at Dustin.
“Oh my god! He’s dead! He’s so dead- how do we even explain this to a morgue- yeah, sorry our friend was beaten to death, don’t mind the outfit he’s wearing, he’s Spider-Man, well! Not anymore, because you know, he’s dead!”
Steve spit out blood on the concrete before pressing his ear piece and responding back, “not dead”
“Oh thank God!” Robin gasped in relief “are you okay?”
“Never better” Steve grabbed his bruised ribs and hobbled. He knows he’ll wake up the next morning and he’ll be good as new, but right now, all he can think about is how much this hurts, and how much he wants to take a nice steamy shower and finish watching the latest episode of The Secret Lives Of Mormon Wives.
“Get back here and we’ll fix you up, okay buddy?” Dustin says reassuringly, that would be nice, but Steve has other ideas.
“I got it figured out, you guys should go home. Get some rest”
“What?” Dustin and Robin speak at the same time.
“What do you mean you got it?” Robin asked, he was beaten to a pulp.
“I mean I got it. Trust me. I’ll see you guys tomorrow”
“Steve!-” Steve shut off his earpiece. He walked to the edge of the rooftop and just stared down at the dark streets, people looked like ants from up here. When he looked up at the New York city skyline, he took in how serene it was. He remembered what it was like to sit on a rooftop and just collect his thoughts, back when he was just a normal person, something he’ll never get again. As he took one last breath, he mapped the way to your house.
———————————————————————
Steve knew how to deal with injuries like this, before Dustin and Robin, it was just Steve home alone, a bottle of rubbing alcohol, and a prayer. This wasn’t the point though, he wanted you specifically to comfort him and clean his wounds, he wanted your hands specifically. Even though you two hadn’t talked in a while, Steve’s overdramatic thought when getting beaten up, was ‘shit. I never got to tell them the truth.’ So now here he is, at your window on the verge of death waiting for an angel to let him in.
You didn’t hear the knocks at first, as it blended in with the rain and you had ear buds in, listening to a study jazz playlist. You were focused on finishing your assignments, granted they were due a week from now, but getting an early jump on things never hurt anybody. That’s the person you were: proactive and ahead of the game. The knocks repeated, getting increasingly louder. Steve was losing his patience a little, this was supposed to be kind of romantic at first, but now he’s basically bleeding out all over your fire escape, and it probably won’t be very adorable finding his unconscious body laying face down on the ground in the morning. Jesus, how locked in are you that you can’t hear him banging on the window?
When you quickly take out your earbuds, there you see him. Steve Harrington. Or at least the bloody carcass that remains of him. You quickly scramble to your feet and push up your window. He’s bleeding. A lot. In a red and blue spandex nonetheless.
“Surprise?” Steve smiles softly. The horrified look on your face doesn’t wipe away with the joke, you’re still standing there in shock.
“What the hell happened to you?” You manage to shout in terror. Forget the costume he’s in, his gashes and bruises make you nauseous. Steve tumbles slightly, you quickly duck yourself under his arm and lead him over to your futon, laying him down as gently as you can, making sure not to injure anymore of his body.
Steve smirks, “You should see the other guy.”
“Steve. I think you are the other guy.” That’s fair. He was banged up pretty bad. He didn’t want to worry you or anything, he knows how it looks, and he’ll explain that he’ll heal up in a couple days, but for now, he just wanted you to take care of him. Perhaps be a little domestic for a little while before reality hits the fan again and he realizes Spider-Man doesn’t have time for a love life.
“I don’t-“ you gulp and gag at the same time “I don’t know what to do- should I- call the ambulance or?”
“Yeah, that’s a no,” Steve replied quickly. He should’ve realized how much he was asking of you before barging in here unwanted. You’re a regular person who didn’t expect to see Spider-Man at their window asking for help.
“Aid!” You blurt out, your hands expressive and sudden.
“What?” Steve laughed, a little amused.
“Sorry- First aid. I have- I uh have a first aid kit in the bathroom.” Your mouth was racing faster than your mind, “don’t move.” Steve wasn’t planning on it, he physically couldn’t.
As you shuffled around in your bathroom, finding the kit, Steve admired your room and took in every detail of it like there was going to be a quiz. From your posters on your wall it was clear you enjoyed shows like Doctor Who and The Twilight Zone. On your desk you had little trinkets of different crystals and rocks, along with a vase of sunflowers. Seeing from your decor, you really liked cats. These were all things he learned about you by being in your room. It made him smile yet feel heavy at the same time, so many things he could have seen sooner if life didn’t lend him such an unfortunate hand. Things he could’ve learned about you through interactions and your dates, instead of the current situation. Instead of coming through your window to be patched up, he would’ve rang the doorbell, flowers in hand, and greeted you at the door. He would’ve shaken hands with your father, Chief Jim Hopper and have been cordial and polite, just as Steve Harrington.
The irony doesn’t slip over Steve’s head. He’s the masked vigilante and your father is the chief of the NYPD who wants Spider-man behind bars or his head on a spike. This would’ve made for an interesting Thanksgiving conversation.
“Got it!” You call from the bathroom, Steve would be lying if he said the thought of your hands wiping away his cuts and feeling his skin didn’t make his heart thump at least a little bit. You open the kit carefully, you’ve never done anything like this before. Your only true experience was wiping out while doing a gnarly skateboard trick and falling flat on your face and having to clean yourself up, afterwards you got a scar right under your bottom lip (Steve notices.)
“This is going to hurt” you whisper, gently taking a wet clean rag and gently dabbing it on Steve’s cuts, he winces slightly but takes the pain quite well. You look at him apologetically before mouthing a small sorry. “Well, you got a lot of explaining bug boy.” Pointing to his torn up outfit. Steve doesn’t think the dry cleaners are going to be able to clean this one.
“What? This old thing?” He feigns ignorance, you respond back, by rubbing the cloth a little harder against his skin. He lets out a scream so loud, you think it could be heard all the way in Timbuktu. You very quickly put your hand over his mouth, giving him an unimpressed look. It was too late, however, the shot round the world was already fired, and your father knocked on your bedroom door, calling your name. You both stare at each other with wide eyes before Steve jumps on to the ground behind your Futon and you race to answer the door.
Once you reach for the doorknob, you turn to Steve and point at him sharply, putting a finger to your lips and signaling to shut up and don’t move, in fact, don’t even breathe. Steve thought it was cute how concerned and untrusting you were, he mimes locking his lips and throwing away the key.
“Yes?” You answer the door timidly, opening the door a sliver so only your body is in view.
“Thought I heard something in here, like” your dad furrows his eyebrows. Hopper combs his mustache with one hand before gesturing with the other, “like wailing? Or a girly scream?” Steve frowns to himself, he doesn’t sound like that!
“Wasn’t me” you shrug.
“You sure? You sure you’re not doing some kind of ritualistic sacrifice in here?”
“Not that I’m aware of” you smile, you tried to make it seem as charming and innocent as possible to ward off suspicion. Hopper only gave you a look, one eyebrow up and a squinted eye, a classic look of I feel like something’s up, I just can’t prove it.
“Alright well I’m heading off, that Spider-Man guy was out and about again, and now it’s my problem.” Hopper huffs, “that little bastard. He’s like a rock in my shoe and a pain in my ass.”
Steve scoffs at this, he stopped a truck going at 90 miles an hour from crashing into town hall, with his bare hands, and then he got beat up afterwards. What do the police do lately other than stuff their face holes with donuts and criticize Spider-Man from doing the job they’re supposed to be doing? If anything, Steve thinks he’s being more than helpful. He’s not asking for the NYPD to bow down at his feet or give him a nice fruit basket, just maybe getting off his back would be nice and perhaps a small thank you.
You try to play devil’s advocate “well, I mean,” you start, a little nervous at your father’s reaction, “isn’t he just trying to keep people safe, just like you?”
Your dad studies you, “He’s a masked vigilante who’s getting in the way of my work, that’s what he’s doing. He’s reckless” Putting his hat on his head, he continues “Whoever this guy is, he needs to leave it to the NYPD. He can’t just parade around in a clown suit doing whatever the hell he wants.”
“I know. I just, I just think you don’t understand him dad.” not like I do. Your dad wasn’t a bad guy, he could be what some people might say: a hardass. He was stubborn and set in his ways, something you take after him. While you had a great relationship with your father, this was a topic you two could never agree on. Your dinners consisted of mashed potatoes, meatballs, and friendly lively debates on the web-slinger:
“He’s a hero dad, he’s keeping citizens safe!” you would argue, waving you cutlery around
Hopper shoves his mouth full of food before talking, “No.” he chews,“ he’s a masked vigilante who operates illegally, emphasis on illegally, outside of the law!”
“Hop! Stop speaking with your mouth full” Joyce, your father’s girlfriend would scold. She was really the only one who could keep him grounded, you loved it. It was always just you and your dad before she came along, she became the mother figure you never had. She taught you how to put on make-up, took you shopping, and had nights out with you on the pretense that Hopper is a grumpy old man, let’s just go out, the two of us. Above all else, she was super cool.
While your debates at the dinner table were unserious and friendly, it felt different here standing in front of your father knowing you were technically aiding and housing a fugitive inside your bedroom, and the fact that this masked menace your dad hated wasn’t some crazy guy at all, he was just a kid. A teenage boy who goes to your school, who hates chemistry class, who likes to play basketball, and loved bringing you a clementine whenever you two had lab because he knew you forgot to eat. Steve might’ve hurt you, but he wasn’t a monster.
“Maybe I don’t, I don’t know his intentions. But I can’t just sit on my ass and find out, especially if that puts you in danger.” Steve understands Hopper’s need to keep you safe but that’s all Steve wants too, he would never hurt you. Not in a million years. Hopper kisses you on the forehead before rubbing your hair, “I’ll be back late, don’t wait up.”
You were about to shut the door when you heard him shout something down the hall, “And by the way- just because you have a t-shirt with his face on it and have a big crush on the guy, doesn’t mean I have to like him.” Your face goes bright red, you feel the heat bouncing off your cheeks and can only imagine the smug look on Steve Harrington’s face. You cringe, still facing the door before turning around and looking at Steve who was already watching you, a devious smirk creeping on his lips.
“Shut up.” Your voice full of snark and embarrassment, continuing to bandage him.
Steve puts his hands up biting back his laugh “I didn’t say anything!” The look on his face really made it seem like he wanted to, but he just continued watching as you disinfected and wrapped his wounds, his eyes were like daggers digging into you and all you could try to do was avoid his eye contact while you two sat so closely. Hey, it’s not like you knew your old situationship was Spider-Man, and you’re hoping he doesn’t think you knew because that would make you appear to be a superfan-stalker.
“So” Steve coughed, “T-shirt with Spiderman’s face on it, huh?” he smiles, still trying not to laugh, he loved watching you flustered, it was adorable and he couldn’t get enough. You rebuffed him by tightening one of the bandages a little tighter than necessary, which made him groan in pain.
“My dad doesn’t know what he’s talking about” you lied, “he started new medication and now he’s imagining this.” Steve is still watching you, like he’s trying to memorize all of you before you disappear again. “Either way! Even If I did, I just admired him- you. I guess.” It’s weird to think your celebrity crush was the same guy that made your heart flutter in chemistry class. “I mean he was cool, before I knew it was you, now? I'm not so sure.” Your tone got serious and your once positive demeanor dropped below zero.
The tension in the room rose, it was silent for a bit. “I’m sorry.” Steve sighed, he gazed at you, and you were trying hard to avoid his eyes. Because maybe, just maybe if you did, you’d break.
“For what?” You sigh, was it for coming through your window unannounced? Was it for breaking your heart last year? something you’re still trying to put together, or was it for lying to you? Your hands were gentle on his skin, he wanted you to just keep you there, against him, forever and always.
“For everything. For this- I just, I’m sorry.” Your gaze still on his body, trying to keep yourself occupied, he brings his index finger and thumb to your chin “please, look at me.” You do. Now he was to say everything he wanted to. The pressure was on, and his heart was aching for you. “I’m sorry for everything last year, I promise you, on everything, you were never a joke to me. I just- how could I tell you about this without putting you in danger, and I mean- your dad? Come on, I couldn’t put that strain between you two.”
“I would’ve kept your secret. If you told me.” Your throat was tightening. “ I would’ve waited for you by the window and I would’ve learned how to sew stitches and clean deep cuts. I would’ve done that for you.” Your eyes were glassy and you were trying your best to keep your composure. You couldn't let him see how much he affected you over the past year. “I waited for you, to tell me what was going on, why you kept canceling. You never came. I waited a year, Steve. Sometimes I feel like I’m still waiting.” To you, Steve was like a fleeting dream, a fantasy like Peter Pan, waiting by your window or your phone for a call, but that’s all it was, a fantasy that was unobtainable.
That broke Steve’s heart even more. He gently placed his hands on the side of your face, and sat up, he ignored the pain on the sides of his ribs that told him to lay back down, “Hey, hey, look at me. I want you.” He started, “I always wanted you.” Please believe me. You can feel yourself melting into his hands like putty. “I thought about you every minute for the past 409 days. I even-“ he looked down embarrassed and rubbed the back of his neck. “Well I, kind of I guess, watched you. From far away.” It suddenly clicked, the guardian angel wasn’t just any guardian angel at all, it was specifically a teenage boy with amazing hair, and a smile that could light up the world.
“What? Like a stalker?” You joke through the tears forming in your eyes.
“No!” he laughs, “okay, no. I just wanted to make sure you got home safe and nobody was ever hassling you.” He shrugged nonchalantly. Steve fails to mention that the day after you both stopped talking, he watched a guy follow you home during his patrol, you were unaware with your headphones on. Steve swooped in faster than lightning, webbing the guy up on a side of a convenience store building, taping a sign next to him saying “I like to make people uncomfortable and I’m a leach to society…And I'm stinky.”
“I wanted to tell you. For so long, but then- I kept thinking, the more I involved you in this, this Spider-man life, the more danger I'd put you in.” Steve holds your hands like he’s scared you’ll disappear, or worse, run away from him. “I just needed to stop being a selfish idiot and put how much I needed you aside to protect you. I don’t know why I came tonight- maybe that’s stupid, but I really just needed to see you, up close. But maybe that was dumb, and I’m just being a selfish idiot again-”
“-You need to stop doing that” you whisper, Steve tenses, he’s unsure what you’re talking about or what your next reaction will be. “Stop thinking that you need to protect everyone by yourself, that you got to do everything alone. Stop thinking you don’t deserve happiness because you do, Steve.” You grip on to his hands a little tighter. His eyes softened, he always believed that his purpose was to protect the people around him, that he had to put all his blood, sweat, and tears into it. That was his role and he played it well, but what about him, at the end of the day, who protects Steve Harrington?
“I’ll make you a deal. You look after me, and watch me from those rooftops all you want or whatever” this makes Steve chuckle “and in return, I’ll have your back. No more secrets between us. You can come through the window whenever you want, I'll stitch you up.”
“And then what?” Steve asks eagerly, his voice cautious, like he wants to cross a line, but he just has to be invited in.
“What do you mean?”
“I mean- now that we have no more secrets. I don't want to just come through your window as Spider-Man when I'm bleeding out. I want to come here, knock on your door with a bouquet of flowers, shake your dad’s hand, and take you on a proper date, for real this time. Just me, Steve Harrington, the same guy I’ve always been. I’m just scared we can’t make it work. Maybe this shit’s just too complicated and maybe Spider-Man doesn’t get a happy ending.” Steve laughs, you’ve always noticed how his humor was a little self deprecating to hide his true vulnerability.
“We’ll make it work. We’ll figure it out together, as a team.” You reassure him, before planting a quick kiss on his cheek.
Steve felt like he was melting. He leaned in slightly, ready to capture your lips on his, but you leaned back. “Easy, bug boy. You need to rest up, we can do all that tomorrow.”
Steve only smiled and laid back, he waited an entire year for you. Steve Harrington can wait one more day if it means having you forever.
————————————————————————
Mango talks 🥭: thanks for reading! Make sure to check out my other fics on my page xx
Summary: Being Steve Harrington and Spider-Man is hard to balance. Love life is an absolute no, but when Steve gets hurt while fighting crime, he knows exactly which window to crawl through.
Word count: 5.6K (sorry, it’s a long one!)
🗒️: modern!Au, Steve is emotionally and physically neglected! Sorry! Angst! Cause yk me! Steve gets hurt, mentions of blood, etc. x reader, no use of y/n, probably not very good writing
Request: Yes!
Mango talks 🥭 : hello! It’s been a while, I’m so sorry for the delay on this fic. Life’s been crazy! I rushed a sorority so I’ve been focusing on that. Not really sure how I feel but, hey! We all gotta try new things! I hope you enjoy reading spider-man Steve, I really love this concept. Once again, requests are open, if you sent me a request I have seen it and will get to it soon! Thanks again, happy reading xx 💕
Oh, side note, I tried to make the reader in this fic more gender neutral! Wanted to try it out and be more inclusive :)
————————————————————-
It had been exactly 409 days since Steve found out he:
Could now crawl on and stick to walls.
Has precognitive senses that alerts him about danger, which he coined the “Steve-sensation.” He chuckled to himself at his own cleverness when he thought of this.
Has superhuman strength and durability, and was strong as shit. He was strong before, sure, but now he was basically like the Hulk. He could now also pull bets and pranks on his friends.
“Lucas, Watch me bench press this”
“No way dude- that shit’s too heavy” Lucas sneered.
“I’ll bet you five bucks”
“You’re on.”
Steve was now five bucks richer.
He also had fast healing. All his basketball injuries from getting shoved and thrown around (purposefully) by Billy Hargrove on the court were all gone in the next day or two. He enjoyed watching Billy’s face turn into a big fat tomato full of anger and confusion due to the fact that pretty boy Steve Harrington was unbreakable somehow.
Safe to say, Steve’s powers were pretty cool. They helped him realize he now had a purpose, which he never thought he had before. To protect the little guy. That was always his thing, he was the protector and the babysitter, he put himself in front of danger to spare the lives of the people he loved. If he could make New York City a little safer for his friends, no, they were his family, he would gladly get beat to a pulp every night.
It was really lonely though, not being able to tell anyone about his newfound superpowers. Steve figured the more people knew, the more danger everyone would be in. So every night, he would go on patrol around the city, beat up muggers and bad guys, get beat up himself, get home at three in the morning, do a really shit job at patching himself up, go to bed, and then wake up the next morning for school and repeat the routine the following night.
He didn’t have to do much sneaking around with his parents being emotionally and physically negligent, but somehow it made him feel worse. He hated knowing he was coming home in the middle of the night and nobody cared. No light left on, no parents standing on the front porch pacing, and no one to scold him with “Steven Harrington! Do you have any idea how late it is?” Or “we were worried sick about you!” Because nobody knew. And nobody cared.
That was until day 233. Steve was sure he was alone one night in his giant empty house. Cuts on his face for display, bruises around his eyes, and surely a broken nose. All he wanted was to take off his suit and crash on to his bed, maybe even hang upside down for a bit to decompress, but when he took his mask off in his bedroom and sighed the sound of relief, he heard a giant thud outside of his bedroom door.
Robin’s mouth was agape, her soda slightly hanging from her lips, and Dustin had dropped his bucket of popcorn on the hallway floor before slowly pointing at Steve.
“WHAT THE FUCK-“
————————————————————-
Dustin and Robin had way too many questions. A lot of who’s, when’s, why’s, and where’s. Though they were both loud, obnoxious,and absolutely terrible at keeping their mouths shut, they swore themselves to secrecy. They knew the gravity of the situation they were in and the importance of keeping Steve’s identity a secret. It just kind of blew their minds that their best friend, Steve the Hair Harrington, co-captain of the basketball team, and king of their high school, was Spider-Man. Seriously. It started to make Dustin question whether he could have any secret superpowers he had no idea about.
Dustin and Robin proved themselves to be very helpful in Steve’s endeavors. They were now Steve's “guys in the chair” whatever the hell that means. Dustin, being the super nerdy genius that he is, was able to create web fluid for Steve so he could easily get from place to place by swinging.
“I introduce to you” Dustin pulls his arms out and gives some enthusiastic jazz hands “web fluid!” ta da! he mouthed.
“Why don’t we call it uh” Steve puts his hands on his hips, he looked perplexed, “I don’t know..Steve’s spider string?”
“It’s web fluid, Steve!” Dustin scolded, “that I created! With my genius! not some silly string you picked up from a Five-below!”
“Jeez okay- I’m just saying, I’m pretty good at naming things, you ever heard of my Steve-sensation?” Dustin face-palmed. This guy was saving New York City? He was actually quite pleased though, Steve was his role model in his everyday life (not that Steve needed to know and inflate his ego) and Spider-Man was his cool-vigilante role model, now he could just mix and morph them together as the same person.
Robin really had no clue that Steve was the guy dressed in a red and blue skin tight suit parading around the city fighting crime. Whenever he came into class looking like a zombie with a few cuts on his face, she just kind of assumed he was with a girl the previous night, and they got a little, well, freaky. Now that she knew what was really going on it made her heart ache to think that he was doing this all alone, she blamed herself for not noticing something was wrong with him, it was her job as his friend. She could’ve helped in little ways, like maybe doing his homework for him while he was on patrol, or taking notes so he wouldn’t have fallen behind. For Christ sake, he was literally bringing crime rates down all over New York City, and he doesn’t get anything from it except an F in history, hate from the New York Police Department, and getting scolded by his basketball coach for not having his head in the game anymore. Robin was glad she could help, even if it was something as small as being navigation and listening in with Dustin on the police scanner.
———————————————————————
“Okay, on your left” Robin spoke into her walkie, she liked being the guy in the chair, it was like she was in a spy movie.
“Okay” Steve was panting as he was swinging, “ damn it- it’s just a wall in an alley. Are you sure it was left?”
“Oh! Sorry, shit-um, my left, your right.”
“Robin?”
“Yeah?”
“I think we have the same left right now.”
“Oh.” She grimaces, “go right.”
Steve sighed, making his way out of the alley. As he was swinging out, he caught a glimpse of an angel. You.
Suddenly Steve forgot where he was and what he was doing, he forgot he was in his bright tight suit, all he could focus on was you and how you looked with earbuds in your ears, walking the sidewalk, looking gorgeous as ever. People rushed by you, scattered around like ants, but he couldn’t take his eyes off you for a second. Did you always wear your hair like that? Was that jacket you were wearing new? There were so many things he wanted to say, just not enough time.
You two were lab partners last year and you saved his ass multiple times. Steve and chemistry just don’t mix (well, not unless it came to you.) You never made him feel stupid or rolled your eyes when you found out you were partnered with him, if he didn’t know something you’d simply explain to the best of your ability. Eventually the flirting but totally not flirting began, the glancing at each other from across the hallway, the need to lightly graze each other's hands during lab but the feeling like you’re going to get burned. It all felt real, that was until Steve became Spider-Man. His entire world flipped upside down and everything he knew suddenly wasn’t legible anymore. He remembered asking you on a date and when you said yes, he remembered jumping up and down in the hallway when nobody was there because he couldn’t hold in his excitement any longer, but he also remembers having to cancel on you at the last minute when there were thugs doing a major car robbery downtown. He rescheduled, once again excited, only to have to cancel due to a big heist going down at the bank. Then again. And again. And again.
Every single time, he could see the hurt in your eyes, and your voice low, like a whisper, saying, “we don’t have to do this.” No. No. He swears on everything, he wants this, he wants it so bad. He wants you so bad. When he tells you, you just don’t believe him anymore. And he can’t blame you. You tell him you’re starting to feel like an inside joke he probably has with his friends. A joke about how desperate you can get and how far along you’ll let him drag you. You tell him you’re not a plaything like the girls he hooks up with. Girls he purposely stopped meeting up with because he wanted something real and permanent with you, but you don’t know that. You finally tell him that if he wants to make this real, if he wants to put effort into you and treat you right, you’ll be waiting for his call.
But the call never comes. Because he knew.
He knew he could never treat you right while balancing this other part of himself that he couldn’t tell you about. He couldn’t even plan one date with you without something getting in the way. How did he plan on trying to start a relationship with you that was either built on lies or empty promises? It was dangerous, and the more people he let in, the more people he could lose, and he couldn’t bear to lose you. He needed to put his own desires and his selfishness aside, he had a duty and a responsibility to protect the citizens of New York City, but especially you. He could beat himself up ten times over, but it helped him sleep a little easier knowing he made the streets safer for you to walk down. His absence confirmed to you that you were a joke, and as much as it broke his heart, it was a price he was willing to pay to keep you safe.
He watched you from afar, all the time. In class when he should’ve been catching up on either his lack of sleep or paying attention to a class he was failing. He watched you smile in the hallways and how your smile falters when you see him and try to ignore his presence. It’s a little creepy, he knows, but he watches you when you roam the streets at night, on the notion that he wanted to make sure you got home safely, because he’s Spider-Man and that’s what the hero does, (definitely not also because he wants to see you.) All he wants to do now is run up to you and come clean. Something on the lines of “yes, I’m Spider-Man. I've been hiding it for a year. I’m sorry about that. Do you want to kiss now?” But he can’t do that. So he just watches.
“Steve!” Dustin shouts in his ear, the crackling making Steve screech a little in pain. With all his focus on the beautiful creature in front of him, he forgot Dustin and Robin were watching as well.
“Jesus- Henderson, I’m here. What?” Steve responds back in his ear piece. Still having his eyes on you.
“Would you stop staring at your one that got away and instead focus on the fact that the truck you were supposed to stop is about to crash into town hall! Like right now!”
“You’re right- You’re right, I’m on my way” and just like that, Steve takes one last glance at you before swinging to save the day. As he leaves, you turn your head to look at the rooftop adjacent from you. You felt like a presence was watching, but not in a creepy or scary way, like a guardian angel was watching over you.
———————————————————————
If you’re in a fight, with multiple people, and you turn around, and some douchebag hits you in the head with a brick, you’re probably going to lose. And lose bad. Doesn’t matter if you have superhuman abilities, a brick to the head is a brick to the head.
Laying painfully on the building’s rooftop, Steve could barely feel his limbs. At first he was not actually sure if his left leg was attached to his body, but he looked down, phew, still there. His vision was hazy, his ears were ringing, and the large quantities of blood exiting his body was starting to get unbearable.
“Steve!” Dustin screams into his walkie, “Steve are you dead?” Steve could imagine Robin pacing frantically behind Dustin when he heard her yell at Dustin.
“Oh my god! He’s dead! He’s so dead- how do we even explain this to a morgue- yeah, sorry our friend was beaten to death, don’t mind the outfit he’s wearing, he’s Spider-Man, well! Not anymore, because you know, he’s dead!”
Steve spit out blood on the concrete before pressing his ear piece and responding back, “not dead”
“Oh thank God!” Robin gasped in relief “are you okay?”
“Never better” Steve grabbed his bruised ribs and hobbled. He knows he’ll wake up the next morning and he’ll be good as new, but right now, all he can think about is how much this hurts, and how much he wants to take a nice steamy shower and finish watching the latest episode of The Secret Lives Of Mormon Wives.
“Get back here and we’ll fix you up, okay buddy?” Dustin says reassuringly, that would be nice, but Steve has other ideas.
“I got it figured out, you guys should go home. Get some rest”
“What?” Dustin and Robin speak at the same time.
“What do you mean you got it?” Robin asked, he was beaten to a pulp.
“I mean I got it. Trust me. I’ll see you guys tomorrow”
“Steve!-” Steve shut off his earpiece. He walked to the edge of the rooftop and just stared down at the dark streets, people looked like ants from up here. When he looked up at the New York city skyline, he took in how serene it was. He remembered what it was like to sit on a rooftop and just collect his thoughts, back when he was just a normal person, something he’ll never get again. As he took one last breath, he mapped the way to your house.
———————————————————————
Steve knew how to deal with injuries like this, before Dustin and Robin, it was just Steve home alone, a bottle of rubbing alcohol, and a prayer. This wasn’t the point though, he wanted you specifically to comfort him and clean his wounds, he wanted your hands specifically. Even though you two hadn’t talked in a while, Steve’s overdramatic thought when getting beaten up, was ‘shit. I never got to tell them the truth.’ So now here he is, at your window on the verge of death waiting for an angel to let him in.
You didn’t hear the knocks at first, as it blended in with the rain and you had ear buds in, listening to a study jazz playlist. You were focused on finishing your assignments, granted they were due a week from now, but getting an early jump on things never hurt anybody. That’s the person you were: proactive and ahead of the game. The knocks repeated, getting increasingly louder. Steve was losing his patience a little, this was supposed to be kind of romantic at first, but now he’s basically bleeding out all over your fire escape, and it probably won’t be very adorable finding his unconscious body laying face down on the ground in the morning. Jesus, how locked in are you that you can’t hear him banging on the window?
When you quickly take out your earbuds, there you see him. Steve Harrington. Or at least the bloody carcass that remains of him. You quickly scramble to your feet and push up your window. He’s bleeding. A lot. In a red and blue spandex nonetheless.
“Surprise?” Steve smiles softly. The horrified look on your face doesn’t wipe away with the joke, you’re still standing there in shock.
“What the hell happened to you?” You manage to shout in terror. Forget the costume he’s in, his gashes and bruises make you nauseous. Steve tumbles slightly, you quickly duck yourself under his arm and lead him over to your futon, laying him down as gently as you can, making sure not to injure anymore of his body.
Steve smirks, “You should see the other guy.”
“Steve. I think you are the other guy.” That’s fair. He was banged up pretty bad. He didn’t want to worry you or anything, he knows how it looks, and he’ll explain that he’ll heal up in a couple days, but for now, he just wanted you to take care of him. Perhaps be a little domestic for a little while before reality hits the fan again and he realizes Spider-Man doesn’t have time for a love life.
“I don’t-“ you gulp and gag at the same time “I don’t know what to do- should I- call the ambulance or?”
“Yeah, that’s a no,” Steve replied quickly. He should’ve realized how much he was asking of you before barging in here unwanted. You’re a regular person who didn’t expect to see Spider-Man at their window asking for help.
“Aid!” You blurt out, your hands expressive and sudden.
“What?” Steve laughed, a little amused.
“Sorry- First aid. I have- I uh have a first aid kit in the bathroom.” Your mouth was racing faster than your mind, “don’t move.” Steve wasn’t planning on it, he physically couldn’t.
As you shuffled around in your bathroom, finding the kit, Steve admired your room and took in every detail of it like there was going to be a quiz. From your posters on your wall it was clear you enjoyed shows like Doctor Who and The Twilight Zone. On your desk you had little trinkets of different crystals and rocks, along with a vase of sunflowers. Seeing from your decor, you really liked cats. These were all things he learned about you by being in your room. It made him smile yet feel heavy at the same time, so many things he could have seen sooner if life didn’t lend him such an unfortunate hand. Things he could’ve learned about you through interactions and your dates, instead of the current situation. Instead of coming through your window to be patched up, he would’ve rang the doorbell, flowers in hand, and greeted you at the door. He would’ve shaken hands with your father, Chief Jim Hopper and have been cordial and polite, just as Steve Harrington.
The irony doesn’t slip over Steve’s head. He’s the masked vigilante and your father is the chief of the NYPD who wants Spider-man behind bars or his head on a spike. This would’ve made for an interesting Thanksgiving conversation.
“Got it!” You call from the bathroom, Steve would be lying if he said the thought of your hands wiping away his cuts and feeling his skin didn’t make his heart thump at least a little bit. You open the kit carefully, you’ve never done anything like this before. Your only true experience was wiping out while doing a gnarly skateboard trick and falling flat on your face and having to clean yourself up, afterwards you got a scar right under your bottom lip (Steve notices.)
“This is going to hurt” you whisper, gently taking a wet clean rag and gently dabbing it on Steve’s cuts, he winces slightly but takes the pain quite well. You look at him apologetically before mouthing a small sorry. “Well, you got a lot of explaining bug boy.” Pointing to his torn up outfit. Steve doesn’t think the dry cleaners are going to be able to clean this one.
“What? This old thing?” He feigns ignorance, you respond back, by rubbing the cloth a little harder against his skin. He lets out a scream so loud, you think it could be heard all the way in Timbuktu. You very quickly put your hand over his mouth, giving him an unimpressed look. It was too late, however, the shot round the world was already fired, and your father knocked on your bedroom door, calling your name. You both stare at each other with wide eyes before Steve jumps on to the ground behind your Futon and you race to answer the door.
Once you reach for the doorknob, you turn to Steve and point at him sharply, putting a finger to your lips and signaling to shut up and don’t move, in fact, don’t even breathe. Steve thought it was cute how concerned and untrusting you were, he mimes locking his lips and throwing away the key.
“Yes?” You answer the door timidly, opening the door a sliver so only your body is in view.
“Thought I heard something in here, like” your dad furrows his eyebrows. Hopper combs his mustache with one hand before gesturing with the other, “like wailing? Or a girly scream?” Steve frowns to himself, he doesn’t sound like that!
“Wasn’t me” you shrug.
“You sure? You sure you’re not doing some kind of ritualistic sacrifice in here?”
“Not that I’m aware of” you smile, you tried to make it seem as charming and innocent as possible to ward off suspicion. Hopper only gave you a look, one eyebrow up and a squinted eye, a classic look of I feel like something’s up, I just can’t prove it.
“Alright well I’m heading off, that Spider-Man guy was out and about again, and now it’s my problem.” Hopper huffs, “that little bastard. He’s like a rock in my shoe and a pain in my ass.”
Steve scoffs at this, he stopped a truck going at 90 miles an hour from crashing into town hall, with his bare hands, and then he got beat up afterwards. What do the police do lately other than stuff their face holes with donuts and criticize Spider-Man from doing the job they’re supposed to be doing? If anything, Steve thinks he’s being more than helpful. He’s not asking for the NYPD to bow down at his feet or give him a nice fruit basket, just maybe getting off his back would be nice and perhaps a small thank you.
You try to play devil’s advocate “well, I mean,” you start, a little nervous at your father’s reaction, “isn’t he just trying to keep people safe, just like you?”
Your dad studies you, “He’s a masked vigilante who’s getting in the way of my work, that’s what he’s doing. He’s reckless” Putting his hat on his head, he continues “Whoever this guy is, he needs to leave it to the NYPD. He can’t just parade around in a clown suit doing whatever the hell he wants.”
“I know. I just, I just think you don’t understand him dad.” not like I do. Your dad wasn’t a bad guy, he could be what some people might say: a hardass. He was stubborn and set in his ways, something you take after him. While you had a great relationship with your father, this was a topic you two could never agree on. Your dinners consisted of mashed potatoes, meatballs, and friendly lively debates on the web-slinger:
“He’s a hero dad, he’s keeping citizens safe!” you would argue, waving you cutlery around
Hopper shoves his mouth full of food before talking, “No.” he chews,“ he’s a masked vigilante who operates illegally, emphasis on illegally, outside of the law!”
“Hop! Stop speaking with your mouth full” Joyce, your father’s girlfriend would scold. She was really the only one who could keep him grounded, you loved it. It was always just you and your dad before she came along, she became the mother figure you never had. She taught you how to put on make-up, took you shopping, and had nights out with you on the pretense that Hopper is a grumpy old man, let’s just go out, the two of us. Above all else, she was super cool.
While your debates at the dinner table were unserious and friendly, it felt different here standing in front of your father knowing you were technically aiding and housing a fugitive inside your bedroom, and the fact that this masked menace your dad hated wasn’t some crazy guy at all, he was just a kid. A teenage boy who goes to your school, who hates chemistry class, who likes to play basketball, and loved bringing you a clementine whenever you two had lab because he knew you forgot to eat. Steve might’ve hurt you, but he wasn’t a monster.
“Maybe I don’t, I don’t know his intentions. But I can’t just sit on my ass and find out, especially if that puts you in danger.” Steve understands Hopper’s need to keep you safe but that’s all Steve wants too, he would never hurt you. Not in a million years. Hopper kisses you on the forehead before rubbing your hair, “I’ll be back late, don’t wait up.”
You were about to shut the door when you heard him shout something down the hall, “And by the way- just because you have a t-shirt with his face on it and have a big crush on the guy, doesn’t mean I have to like him.” Your face goes bright red, you feel the heat bouncing off your cheeks and can only imagine the smug look on Steve Harrington’s face. You cringe, still facing the door before turning around and looking at Steve who was already watching you, a devious smirk creeping on his lips.
“Shut up.” Your voice full of snark and embarrassment, continuing to bandage him.
Steve puts his hands up biting back his laugh “I didn’t say anything!” The look on his face really made it seem like he wanted to, but he just continued watching as you disinfected and wrapped his wounds, his eyes were like daggers digging into you and all you could try to do was avoid his eye contact while you two sat so closely. Hey, it’s not like you knew your old situationship was Spider-Man, and you’re hoping he doesn’t think you knew because that would make you appear to be a superfan-stalker.
“So” Steve coughed, “T-shirt with Spiderman’s face on it, huh?” he smiles, still trying not to laugh, he loved watching you flustered, it was adorable and he couldn’t get enough. You rebuffed him by tightening one of the bandages a little tighter than necessary, which made him groan in pain.
“My dad doesn’t know what he’s talking about” you lied, “he started new medication and now he’s imagining this.” Steve is still watching you, like he’s trying to memorize all of you before you disappear again. “Either way! Even If I did, I just admired him- you. I guess.” It’s weird to think your celebrity crush was the same guy that made your heart flutter in chemistry class. “I mean he was cool, before I knew it was you, now? I'm not so sure.” Your tone got serious and your once positive demeanor dropped below zero.
The tension in the room rose, it was silent for a bit. “I’m sorry.” Steve sighed, he gazed at you, and you were trying hard to avoid his eyes. Because maybe, just maybe if you did, you’d break.
“For what?” You sigh, was it for coming through your window unannounced? Was it for breaking your heart last year? something you’re still trying to put together, or was it for lying to you? Your hands were gentle on his skin, he wanted you to just keep you there, against him, forever and always.
“For everything. For this- I just, I’m sorry.” Your gaze still on his body, trying to keep yourself occupied, he brings his index finger and thumb to your chin “please, look at me.” You do. Now he was to say everything he wanted to. The pressure was on, and his heart was aching for you. “I’m sorry for everything last year, I promise you, on everything, you were never a joke to me. I just- how could I tell you about this without putting you in danger, and I mean- your dad? Come on, I couldn’t put that strain between you two.”
“I would’ve kept your secret. If you told me.” Your throat was tightening. “ I would’ve waited for you by the window and I would’ve learned how to sew stitches and clean deep cuts. I would’ve done that for you.” Your eyes were glassy and you were trying your best to keep your composure. You couldn't let him see how much he affected you over the past year. “I waited for you, to tell me what was going on, why you kept canceling. You never came. I waited a year, Steve. Sometimes I feel like I’m still waiting.” To you, Steve was like a fleeting dream, a fantasy like Peter Pan, waiting by your window or your phone for a call, but that’s all it was, a fantasy that was unobtainable.
That broke Steve’s heart even more. He gently placed his hands on the side of your face, and sat up, he ignored the pain on the sides of his ribs that told him to lay back down, “Hey, hey, look at me. I want you.” He started, “I always wanted you.” Please believe me. You can feel yourself melting into his hands like putty. “I thought about you every minute for the past 409 days. I even-“ he looked down embarrassed and rubbed the back of his neck. “Well I, kind of I guess, watched you. From far away.” It suddenly clicked, the guardian angel wasn’t just any guardian angel at all, it was specifically a teenage boy with amazing hair, and a smile that could light up the world.
“What? Like a stalker?” You joke through the tears forming in your eyes.
“No!” he laughs, “okay, no. I just wanted to make sure you got home safe and nobody was ever hassling you.” He shrugged nonchalantly. Steve fails to mention that the day after you both stopped talking, he watched a guy follow you home during his patrol, you were unaware with your headphones on. Steve swooped in faster than lightning, webbing the guy up on a side of a convenience store building, taping a sign next to him saying “I like to make people uncomfortable and I’m a leach to society…And I'm stinky.”
“I wanted to tell you. For so long, but then- I kept thinking, the more I involved you in this, this Spider-man life, the more danger I'd put you in.” Steve holds your hands like he’s scared you’ll disappear, or worse, run away from him. “I just needed to stop being a selfish idiot and put how much I needed you aside to protect you. I don’t know why I came tonight- maybe that’s stupid, but I really just needed to see you, up close. But maybe that was dumb, and I’m just being a selfish idiot again-”
“-You need to stop doing that” you whisper, Steve tenses, he’s unsure what you’re talking about or what your next reaction will be. “Stop thinking that you need to protect everyone by yourself, that you got to do everything alone. Stop thinking you don’t deserve happiness because you do, Steve.” You grip on to his hands a little tighter. His eyes softened, he always believed that his purpose was to protect the people around him, that he had to put all his blood, sweat, and tears into it. That was his role and he played it well, but what about him, at the end of the day, who protects Steve Harrington?
“I’ll make you a deal. You look after me, and watch me from those rooftops all you want or whatever” this makes Steve chuckle “and in return, I’ll have your back. No more secrets between us. You can come through the window whenever you want, I'll stitch you up.”
“And then what?” Steve asks eagerly, his voice cautious, like he wants to cross a line, but he just has to be invited in.
“What do you mean?”
“I mean- now that we have no more secrets. I don't want to just come through your window as Spider-Man when I'm bleeding out. I want to come here, knock on your door with a bouquet of flowers, shake your dad’s hand, and take you on a proper date, for real this time. Just me, Steve Harrington, the same guy I’ve always been. I’m just scared we can’t make it work. Maybe this shit’s just too complicated and maybe Spider-Man doesn’t get a happy ending.” Steve laughs, you’ve always noticed how his humor was a little self deprecating to hide his true vulnerability.
“We’ll make it work. We’ll figure it out together, as a team.” You reassure him, before planting a quick kiss on his cheek.
Steve felt like he was melting. He leaned in slightly, ready to capture your lips on his, but you leaned back. “Easy, bug boy. You need to rest up, we can do all that tomorrow.”
Steve only smiled and laid back, he waited an entire year for you. Steve Harrington can wait one more day if it means having you forever.
————————————————————————
Mango talks 🥭: thanks for reading! Make sure to check out my other fics on my page xx
“Okay, on your left” Robin spoke into her walkie, she liked being the guy in the chair, it was like she was in a spy movie.
“Okay” Steve was panting as he was swinging, “ damn it- it’s just a wall in an alley. Are you sure it was left?”
“Oh! Sorry, shit-um, my left, your right.”
“Robin?”
“Yeah?”
“I think we have the same left right now.”
“Oh.” She grimaces, “go right.”
Steve sighed, making his way out of the alley. As he was swinging out, he caught a glimpse of an angel. You.
————————————————————————
Excited to share this. Also, yes, Dustin is also in this.
And yes, Steve boutta climb through the window all beat up and bruised and in need of assistance (Amazing Spider-Man ref? Yes again!)
Excited to share, still writing but it will be out soon!! While you’re waiting, don’t forget to read my other fics to pass the time!
With great power, comes great responsibility.
-Mango 🥭
P.S - I should mention this was a request. You could also make requests as well! Requests are open! (Please send me requests, I’m running out of ideas)
Hey guys I’m so sorry this is taking SO long, I swear I’m almost done with it. I’ve been doing sorority recruitment! Just got my bid.
(andddddd possibly dropping because I’m realizing it’s not for me! Um!! Anyway!)
and that’s been taking up so much time. I swear I never forgot about yall and I think about this fic like every day. IT WILL COME OUT SOON I SWEAR!!! SPIDER-MAN STEVE HARRINGTON WILL SEE THE LIGHT OF DAY TRUST!! 💗
“Okay, on your left” Robin spoke into her walkie, she liked being the guy in the chair, it was like she was in a spy movie.
“Okay” Steve was panting as he was swinging, “ damn it- it’s just a wall in an alley. Are you sure it was left?”
“Oh! Sorry, shit-um, my left, your right.”
“Robin?”
“Yeah?”
“I think we have the same left right now.”
“Oh.” She grimaces, “go right.”
Steve sighed, making his way out of the alley. As he was swinging out, he caught a glimpse of an angel. You.
————————————————————————
Excited to share this. Also, yes, Dustin is also in this.
And yes, Steve boutta climb through the window all beat up and bruised and in need of assistance (Amazing Spider-Man ref? Yes again!)
Excited to share, still writing but it will be out soon!! While you’re waiting, don’t forget to read my other fics to pass the time!
With great power, comes great responsibility.
-Mango 🥭
UPDATE: ITS POSTED!! :)
P.S - I should mention this was a request. You could also make requests as well! Requests are open! (Please send me requests, I’m running out of ideas)
He watches as notebook, notebook, coloring book, sketch pad, notebook are methodically and pointedly stacked on the table in front of him. The stack is topped off with a ziplock bag of colored pencils.
Hopper raises an eyebrow.
He asks the five year old in front of him, “Homework?”
“No,” Steve says. “I’m an artist now. I’m gonna be an artist when I grow up.”
“I thought you were going to be a lawyer.”
“No,” Steve makes a face. “Being a lawyer is boring. I’m gonna work with my dad when I’m big but I’m gonna be an artist. And a ninja.”
Hopper nods.
He takes a bite out of a stick of celery, “Sounds like you got it all planned out.”
“Uh-huh,” Steve agrees, opening the notebook on top. He flips through the colorful pages as he says, “In art class, Mr Healy told us to draw ourselves as animals. I’m a monkey. Duh.”
Steve shows Hopper a kid drawing of a monkey-like figure with a squiggle of brown hair and an S on its chest, “I’m wearing a shirt like Alvin.”
“What’s that?” Hopper asks, pointing to a blue scribble in the corner.
“That’s Tommy. He’s a shark,” Steve says. “You can’t see him ‘cause he’s under water so he doesn’t die.”
He points to another monkey and says, “This is Carol. She’s a cat, I’m really good at drawing cats.”
“Right,” Hopper nods. “That’s a good picture, kid.”
Steve beams at the compliment.
He flips wildly through the next few pages in his notebook before holding it up to show Hopper a seal in a wide-brimmed hat, “This is you.”
“I’m a seal?”
“That’s a sea lion ‘cause you’re like a sea lion,” Steve says like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “You’re not a seal ‘cause you got ears and big hands. Seals don’t got ears. They got holes for ears and little fins so they just wiggle around. You don’t wiggle.”
“Oh, okay.”
“I sawed you walkin’ the other day when it was real slippery,” Steve adds. “You waddle. Like a sea lion.”
Before Hopper can respond Steve rips the page out of his notebook, “You can have it.”
“Thanks.”
Hopper is contemplating folding the drawing so he can put it in his pocket when Callahan walks over. He doesn’t get a word out before Steve is ripping another page out of his notebook and holding it out, “I drawed a picture of you.”
Callahan takes the drawing, looks at it and frowns, “You drew me as a snowman?”
“Yeah,” Steve nods. “He has macaroni in his head like your hair. I’m a really good artist.”
“What’s this?” Callahan asks, pointing to a big circle in the corner.
“That’s the sun,” Steve says. “So you melt and no one ever has to see you again.”
Based on this fic by @morganbritton132 , a sketch for a comic that I will probably never finish.
✨️You can find more panels of this comic in my Ko-fi (it doesn't change the story at all but somehow I drew almost twice as many panels as there are here)✨️
The police station was very gray so I added a little yellow to make it not so boring, but now from my cell phone it looks too yellow. I swear it didn't look like that on the screen I drew it on.
THANK YOU THANK YOU FOR ALL THE LOVE ON NO DO-OVERS!
I’m tempted to write a sequel/part 2!
Would people be interested in reading something that follows this plot:
Your rehearsals for Romeo and Juliet begin and you and Steve are taking your relationship slow (situationship more like). Things get complicated when Steve has some kind of dislike for the guy who’s playing Romeo and your status of your relationship start to blur, especially due to not knowing where you two stand, Steve’s still your neighbor, and you want to focus on the show.
So there’s gonna be more angst, more fluff, more fights, and more cutesy moments!
Summary: Steve Harrington and his friends ruin your Romeo & Juliet callback, you vow to never speak to him ever again, and Steve vows to make it up to you.
Word count: 4.6K
Warnings: x reader, it’s angsty, they fight, drama or whateva, but you know! They make it up again in the end! Steve absolutely pining for ya, mentions of Carol bullying Robin. I’m sick right now, so my writing might be dogshit. We’ll see.
Mango talks 🥭: hello awesome sauce human beings! I’m so glad people were excited for this one! I hope it doesn’t disappoint. I’ve been wanting to write Theatre Reader for a while, since I, mango, do theatre. So this is a love letter to all my theatre kiddos! Hope you enjoy 💗
————————————————————————
Line after line, your eyes racing on the page, and yet, it still didn’t feel right. You had been practicing this monologue for hours each passing day, but still you felt like there was something missing in your performance.
Juliet. When you saw your name on the callback sheet next to the role of Juliet you squealed. Hand in hand with Robin, you both looked absolutely mad jumping up and down in circles in the middle of the school hallway. After years of being in the Hawkins High drama department, you’ve never gotten a lead. You were ensemble every now and then, supporting roles here and there, even understudy, but never a lead. Especially not in shows as classic and timeless as Romeo and Juliet. You could really shine this time.
——————————————————————
Hours on hours every day you made Robin practice with you, which got a bit silly.
“O Romeo! Romeo, wherefore art though romeo?” You deliver the line with so much passion and control, missing the part where Robin actively yawns, you two have been going at this for the 76th time today. “Rob! it’s your line.”
“Shit- right, sorry.” Robin scrambles to find her page before sighing and giving the most monotone and uninteresting delivery, “Shall I hear more, or shall I uh- shall I speak at this- or whatever.” Robin gives little unenthusiastic jazz hands.
“At least pretend to be interested, I need an active scene partner!”
“Cut me some slack! Please! We’ve been rehearsing this for hours!” Robin flopped on to her back on your bed. “You got this. You’ve got it down, trust me. You’re going to get the role of Juliet, and I’m going to be the best Mercutio you’ve ever seen.”
“I don’t know Robin, Kristy Claybell is pretty good.” You feel yourself going into a cold sweat thinking about facing your competition for this role, somehow for everything it was always between you and her. You didn’t have anything against Kristy at all, in fact, you always tried to be overly nice to her because you could feel the tension, but it always seemed like she gave you the cold shoulder or was ready to stab you right in the face with a machete.
Robin rolls her eyes, “Kristy Claybell can suck a fat one.”
———————————————————————
You have exactly two hours and twenty minutes before your callback at the end of the school day, you take every chance you get during passing periods to glance down at your lines, evidently not making you pay attention to what’s in front of you. Before you know it, you feel a hand ruffling your hair.
“Where’s the fire?” Steve asks with a sly smirk “you’re going to kill someone walking with your head down at 80 miles per hour.” He shrugged, “had to pull you over for speeding.” Your stupid neighbor. He enjoyed messing with you and getting under your skin, playful sure, but it didn’t make it any less annoying.
“I’m practicing lines for my callback Steve” you mumble, swatting his hand and fixing your hair, which you tried to make especially perfect today for your big day and now it’s a mess. Stupid Harrington strikes again.
Dickhead.
Steve chuckles before running his hands through your hair to fix the mess he created, even pushing strands of hair behind your ear, causing slight small butterflies to form in your stomach. But that’s totally just because of the audition…
“Ah” he grabs your lines and holds it up so it was just out of reach for you. “Is this what I’ve been hearing every night? I could’ve sworn it was a cat dying or a moose getting murdered in the middle of the night, my mistake.”
“Stalker” you fired back. Your windows were across from each other, so he must’ve heard a lot, especially your fights with Robin when she tries giving directorial notes that didn’t make any sense, “be cooler.” Those were particularly loud. “What? You sit by your window and just watch me you perv?”
You tried grabbing your pages back, but Steve put his arm against you, pushing you down before he started to dramatically read “O Romeo! Romeo!” He made sure to make his voice sound impressively high pitch, he thought he was quite funny.
“Shut up Steven” you hit his arm and grab the papers, swiping them away from him before rolling your eyes. Steve has always gotten on your nerves even as children. He’d cheat in hide and seek and always been too fast to catch in tag. Annoying little bastard.
“Oh.” You mumble, “my grandparents want to know if you and your parents are coming over for dinner on Sunday.”
“We’ll be there” Steve smiles with that classic Steve the hair Harrington smile. That made you want to punch him, but also, you didn’t hate it.
“Bummer. I was actually looking forward to a peaceful dinner.” You deadpan. “Now go away, don’t you have some girl to suck face with? Or another class to sleep through?”
Steve pouts in fake annoyance before he starts walking off, when he takes a couple steps he turns around again, “oh- break a hand” giving a thumbs up.
“A leg you mean?” Steve’s face immediately goes bright red before he scratches the back of his neck.
“Yeah, yeah that.” There goes the butterflies in your stomach again damn it.
———————————————————————
Your palms were sweating, your face was sweating, could legs sweat? You’re not entirely sure, but they felt like they were sweating the most. When you heard it was your turn to go on stage, you swore you were about to run out of the room, change your name, and not look back.
The stage lights were blinding and you swear your body just didn’t work anymore. Mrs. Robinson gave you a smile before pushing up her glasses, “whenever you’re ready dear.” You always liked Mrs. Robinson, she was a great drama teacher. Very sweet, you always imagined her as a cat lady with exactly three cats: snuffles, tangerine, and pickle. However, right now, she was the most intimidating thing you’ve ever seen. you take a deep breath in before beginning. You could feel your body getting into a rhythm, a sense of calm washes over you as you begin delivering your lines. Mrs Robinson smiling and jotting some notes down. You always felt so at peace on the stage. There was something so special about turning yourself off and hopping into another character, it made you feel whole. You couldn’t image yourself anywhere else. It was meant for you, it was always meant for you.
Everything appeared to be going well, until the middle of your monologue you hear some snickering and claps that echoed across the auditorium. You did your best to block out the noise.
“What’s in a name? That which we call- um.” The noises got louder in the back of the auditorium, it sounded like whispers and cheers, and your mind began to go blank. Shit shit shit you’re forgetting the words. You try your best to avoid your eyes steering where the sound was coming from, but it was no use, your eyes auto directed towards the noise, Steve Harrington and his two simpleton henchmen.
“A rose, by any other word-“ before you know it, Carol and Tommy H. Started hollering and screaming through their hands in the most obnoxious and mocking way ever, Steve only sits and smiles watching you, but doing nothing to stop them. You begin to stutter, Mrs. Robinson, taking in your discomfort, turns around, takes off her glasses and begins yelling.
“You three! Out! Now!” Heat climbs all over your face as you stand on the stage, feeling vulnerable and awkward. “Harrington, Perkins, Hagen. I’ll see you three in detention!” Mrs. Robinson threatened. It didn’t have any effect though, Tommy and Carol only rolled their eyes and laughed as they hopped over the auditorium seats to exit, Steve strolling behind.
“Blow me” Carol blew Mrs. Robinson an air kiss.
“Break a leg!” Tommy shouted at you laughing deviously like the idiot he was, before blowing a whistle like noise through his fingers.
You were doing so well before being interrupted, now you’re going to have to start over and find that rhythm again, you stand back in the center of the stage ready to restart. Okay, you’ve got this, again.
“I’ve seen enough” Mrs Robinson looks down at her notes, “you can go sweetheart, thank you.”
“what?” you mutter out “oh I- I didn’t finish” you smile awkwardly, you could feel the tears swelling up in your eyes and your throat closing in.
“That’s alright dear, I’ve seen what I needed.”
“Right! Absolutely. But- if I could just take a few more minutes of your time to redo my scene-“
“That won’t be necessary” your heart fell to your stomach. You could only stare forward, scared that making any sudden reactions would result in you bawling in front of your theatre director, which would 100% be very unprofessional. There was no way your fate was being determined by three assholes who barged in to embarrass you, you worked too hard for your mistakes to not even be from you but instead outside forces who can’t even write a full sentence. When you turned your head, Kristy Claybell picked at her nails and smiled, waiting for you to get off the stage so she could blow Mrs. Robinson's mind with her talent and take Juliet right from under your nose.
You bit your lip to stop yourself from tearing up, you smiled at Mrs. Robinson and thanked her for her time before grabbing your bag and quickly pushed through the auditorium doors. You needed to go home, you needed to call Robin and tell her what a douchebag Steve Harrington was, maybe even egg his house! I mean, he was literally next door over, so it wouldn’t require much travel.
———————————————————————
As you swiftly ran out the auditorium, you conveniently ran into Steve and his two goons. Perfect.
“Hey” Steve smiled at you, perching himself up with one arm on a locker, you would be thinking he looked really good right now, but you were mixed with so much rage, despair, and the complete need to down some Ben and Jerry’s chocolate ice cream and cry into your dad’s arms, that you couldn’t think anything positive of him right now. You had to go home.
“How’d the rest of the audition go princess?” Tommy smiled while trying not to laugh, Carol snorted into her sleeve.
Your mind told you to walk away from them, that they weren’t worth it, don’t give them the satisfaction, but you instead turned back to look at them, trying your best not to let your throat close in and cry. “Yeah, uh-” you lick your teeth “I wouldn’t know, because after the bullshit you three pulled, I got sent home. So.”
“Woah- what?” Steve’s eyebrows furrowed.
“You ruined my audition, Steve. That’s what.” You looked up at him waiting for him to somehow justify himself, but he wasn’t looking at you. He felt guilty, it was supposed to be harmless, he didn’t think you would be the one to bear the consequences.
“It was just a joke, relax.” Carol spat at you, quite literally, with all the gum she’s smacking like her life depended on it, probably going through withdrawal from all the packs she needed to smoke.
“Okay, so I actually wasn’t talking to you, bitch.” Your voice was sprayed with venom, you’re normally a very nice and delightful human being, but you’ve been meaning to spite Carol, especially since the nasty shit she pulled on Robin. Carol accused Robin of checking her out in the girl’s locker room, while all the girls sneered and giggled, Robin couldn’t do anything to defend herself. It made her feel helpless. While you were furious for your best friend, prepared to key Carol’s car, she told you to let it go, that it wasn’t worth it. Well Robin! That was for you!
Carol scoffed, ready to have some kind of catfight with you, but Steve blocked you with his body, holding you tightly, and telling Hagen to get his girl and walk off. When Carol and Tommy finally left, you shoved Steve off of you. God, you had so much pent up rage and momentum.
“You’re such an asshole.” You shook your head and felt the tears about to fall. “Of all the things you’ve done, Harrington, this is the lowest blow.” Harrington. It made his face grimace when you said it, he’s never been Harrington to you. Steve normally, Steven whenever you were annoyed with him (playfully annoyed he would think.) He really liked Steven, the only other people to call him Steven were his parents, but it was a lot cuter coming from you. Never Harrington though, he could add this to his mental notes of you, if you called him Harrington you were really really pissed. It was like you were trying to act like you didn’t know him, like there was a social disconnect between you two.
he said your name in the quietest comforting voice “I’m sorry, okay?” He was trying to find all the right words, “look. I didn’t know that was going to happen. I swear- Tommy and Carol, I mean, they’re just idiots, you know them.” He awkwardly laughed, like that’s an excuse.
“The three of you, were just conveniently being idiots while I was on stage, that’s great, just great. Thanks for that.” you spew sarcastically, “you actually couldn’t have picked a better time!” You shrug, walking away. Steve was right behind you, swooping in to be right in front of you once more.
“Hey, hey” Steve lightly grabbed the sides of your shoulders, “I swear to you. I just came to” he pauses before looking down “watch you.. you know, and support you.” Steve feels so shy suddenly, he knows how it sounds, especially with your perv comment from earlier. Because yes, Steve did enjoy being in your presence and watching you perform, he admired it.
“Why would you ever want to do that?” To you it was some kind of joke, but to Steve it was like a rhetorical question. Why wouldn’t he? He loves everything you do, scratch that, he loves everything about you. When you were up on that stage, Steve Harrington looked at you like you hung the moon and created the stars, just for him.
“Tommy and Carol just wanted to tag along when they heard where I was going, I didn’t know they were going to do that. I didn’t, I swear.”
“And you didn’t stop it. You just let them sit there and humiliate me.” Steve stares at you now, mouth gone dry. You’re right. He should’ve stopped it. “Thanks to you, I have blown the biggest callback of my life, for the one thing I really wanted, something I worked-” the tears were working up again, damn it. “So hard for. I mean you knew that, right?” Steve looked at you like a lost puppy, maybe in a different context you would feel even a sliver of compassion, but not now. No way. “You sat by the window and listened to me and Robin rehearsing every day for hours. And now? It was all for nothing, and Mrs. Robinson probably thinks I’m not taking it seriously, so yes, please thank Tommy H and Carol for me, ok?” You give him one last sarcastic lip tight smile.
“I’m sorry- cmon, please, let me make it up to you, let me take you home, okay?” he pleaded, he’ll get on his knees if that’s really what you want “and I’ll- I’ll talk to Mrs Robinson, tell her it’s all just a big misunderstanding- “
“-What’s that going to do? You think she’ll listen to you? Steve, you failed drama twice.” It was three times. But who’s counting. “Besides, even if she did listen, what? I’m going to get a role I didn’t deserve, all because the hero Steve the Hair Harrington somehow talked me up? yeah, no thanks.” You scoffed.
Steve was determined to fix this for you, you’re more deserving of this than anyone he knew. “You know, I could turn on my charm and-“
“Jesus Harrington! Stop talking!” You put your arms out like you were about to strangle him, “You caused this. The least you could do is shut your damn mouth and leave me alone. I never want to talk to you again.” If you knew any better, you would say there were little specs of tears in Steve Harrington’s eyes. You walked out, leaving Steve standing in the hallway feeling his heart was chipping away one piece at a time.
——————————————————————-
Over the past couple days, you have been doing nothing but bed-rotting with Robin, you refused to get up, and as your best friend, she also now refused to get up and has now more of a reason to hate Steve Harrington than she already did before. All you could think about was that on Monday when you got back to school, the cast list would be up, and you’d be nowhere on it.
Steve had also been trying to reach out:
Calling your house, you told your dad to tell him you weren’t home. Ever.
Slipping notes through your lockers, a lot of “I’m sorry” “please don’t stay mad” and “I’ll drive you home after school, yeah?” Crumbled, crumbled, and crumbled.
Shining a flashlight through your window. You and Steve used to do this as kids, it was a funny gag to annoy the other person. But now he was doing it to get your attention, which led to Robin screaming at him because the light flickering on and off over and over again was nearly going to give her a migraine.
“Jesus Christ Harrington!” Robin grabbed on to your curtains at the window before shouting, “get a clue dingus! She doesn’t want to talk to you!” Robin slammed your window shut before dragging the curtains along with it.
It was Sunday. You forgot the Harringtons were invited over for dinner, and it was petty to get the entire family involved in your drama. So, at dinner, you barely said anything at all. Not unless provoked, such as being asked a question, then you just got really obnoxious.
“Are you feeling alright?” Your dad asked you, Steve looks at you, waiting for an answer.
“Yeah, yeah, just down. You know, just some drama at school.” Now you were piercing your eyes right into Steve Harrington’s soul. Steve scoffs, he feels bad but you were doing way too much. He can’t complain though, he deserves it.
The rest of the dinner went smoothly, you were polite and cordial, made a couple jokes here and there, and was completely successful in avoiding Steve. He wishes you took at least one glance at him, because he was watching you the whole night, not even just in guilt, he always just liked looking at you, and it killed him that you weren’t looking back and possibly blushing like you used to.
By the end of the night, Mrs. Harrington was saying her goodbyes to your grandparents, making plans to have dinner again next week, and Mr. Harrington and your father were chatting about the upcoming football game and fixing the fence dividing your houses that you accidentally ran into with your car (whoops, sorry..) That just left you with Steve, who you couldn’t look in the eye. You say a blanket goodnight to everyone before exiting the front entrance and walking up the stairs to your room to get away from him.
“Hey” Steve’s breath was shaky, he followed you to the bottom of the steps, you rolled your eyes and kept walking. “I know! Okay I messed up! ” he calls out to you, he’s pleading again. “I know you don’t want to talk to me, but just, give me three minutes of your time and you’ll never have to talk to me again if that’s not what you want.”
“Two.” You deadpan.
“I’ll make it one” Steve chuckles, and you almost chuckle too, almost. “I just want to say- I’m sorry. I’m sorry about Thursday. I should’ve shut them up, maybe punched Tommy H in the face, and I shouldn’t have ruined your callback thing.”
“You’re telling me things I already know, Harrington.”
“But- but. I just want to say, before Tommy and Carol opened their mouths, you were really good. I mean! You’re always good. It’s just, seeing you on that stage reading your old English or whatever, I knew, you were the perfect Juliet. Granted, I never finished reading Romeo and Juliet for English class and uh shit fuck, I swear I rehearsed this.”
“You got 30 seconds” it was more like 15, but if he continued to flatter you, you’ll give him an extra 15 seconds just to compliment you.
“Okay okay I- I know I messed up, but I swear to you, god, no one, I mean no one is built for that role more than you. So I just came here to say, don’t sweat about that stupid nerdy cast list. If you’re not on it, it won’t be because of me, or Carol, or Tommy H, but because Mrs. Robinson is an idiot who can’t see what I see.” Your eyes narrowed. “You won’t have to worry about that list though, cause I know you’ll be Juliet, and I’m sorry I’m a dumb knucklehead that pushed you a little off course of that.” Steve finally let go of his breath, he could have the chops to be an actor too if he really tried, great breath control. “That’s all.”
You stare at him trying not to smile even a little, you wanted him to grovel a little more, but you appreciated everything you heard.
“Goodnight Harrington.”
“Goodnight.” Steve watched you walk up the steps to your room before closing your door, he caught a little glimpse of your yellow and pink wallpaper. He’s seen your room through his window, memorizing the posters on your walls and the knick knacks on your nightstand, but never has gotten the privilege to actually be physically in there.
One day though.
———————————————————————
The following Monday, you avoided the theatre blackbox as much as possible, knowing the list will be up and your fate will be sealed. You feel heavy, like your feet are just dragging on the ground and a rain cloud you can’t seem to shake resides above you.
“Hey!” You can hear Robin scream from behind you, she’s panting, “I have been running all over this damn school looking for you.” Robin was your other half, but right now, her sunny disposition and your melancholy existence do not mix well. She grabs your shoulders tightly before turning you around, making you squeal “have you checked the cast list?” Her tone sharp, and actually kind of scary.
“No, Rob. And I don’t plan to, there’s no point.”
“But! Did you hear who got Juliet?” She practically screams in your ear.
“Tell Kristy I said congratulations and I know she’ll do amazing as always.” You try to open your locker to grab your notebooks, but Robin had other plans.
“Oh my god, Kristy Claybell can suck a fat one.” Robin grabs you by the collar and basically drags you to the cast list, you refused to look at first, but Robin wouldn’t stop hitting you on the arm.
“Okay! Okay!” You slapped her back, your eyes traced over the sheet, starting at the bottom, assuming you’d be placed in the ensemble. When you can't find your name you keep going up and up.
“Congratulations on Mercutio.” You gave Robin a fist bump, still keeping your eyes on the sheet. “I don’t see my name anywhere.” You feel deflated, you could’ve at least made ensemble rather than nothing at all.
Robin’s eyes roll to the back of her head “You’re such a dingus.” She places your finger at the very top of the page.
Your name. Next to Juliet.
You’re Juliet.
“Holy shit!” You’re Juliet! You want to scream and jump up and down with Robin, but you feel too excited, like the happiness radiating from your body was somehow pushing you down. Plus, it was best not to gloat, Kristy and the other candidates were standing right there, but you swore someone whispered “She was definitely the best choice.”
After you calmed down, for some reason, the first thing that popped into your head was to tell your charmingly annoying neighbor. You wanted to go up to Steve and tell him your big news, but why would he care? He thought theatre was for nerds anyway, and like he said, he never finished Romeo and Juliet for his English class. Walking to grab your notebooks, you had a little extra pep in your step, you couldn’t help but do a little dance when opening your locker. When you swung it open, a note dropped into your hands.
You picked it up, and opened it with so much care, “Congratulations :) I knew you could do it.” it read. You knew exactly who this was from.
You hear someone clearing their throat right behind you, Steve Harrington, the one and only.
“When’d you slip this in my locker, stalker?” You give a sly smile.
Steve scratched the back of his neck, keeping the other hand tightly behind his back. “Right when I found out. I paced back and forth all morning for Mrs. Robinson to come out and stick the list on the board, she shook her head and rolled her eyes when she saw me.” He whispered, “I wanted to be the first person to congratulate you when I knew you’d get it.” He shrugged, he wanted to appear nonchalant.
You two look at one another, there’s something there that you can’t quite place, but you like it, you really like it. It’s like you two were magnets, pulling closer and closer to one another.
You both cough at the same time and Steve laughs awkwardly before he remembered “oh uh- I got you these.” Steve pulls his hand from his back revealing a bouquet of flowers. “I got this for you before the cast list even came out you know- like if you somehow didn’t get Juliet, I guess these would be like “I’m sorry for being an asshole” flowers, but like I thought you would get it- so actually these are more like congratulation flowers-“
“I thought theatre was dorky.” you smiled, grabbing the flowers from his hands. He was rambling and his cheeks were turning bright pink.
“No! No. It’s cool, well it’s cool when you do it.” Steve Harrington could never keep composure around you for more than a minute. The usual charm and flirtatious manner he seemed to wow the girls with never seemed to work when it came to you, he melted for you. You turned his legs to jello and you brought out the little boy in him who used to try to scare you just so you’d yell “Steven!” He loved hearing you say his name.
“I know the tradition is to bring flowers on a show’s opening night, but i already bought these and obviously these would die by the time-“ Steve was cut off when you perched yourself up to quickly plant a peck on his lips, it was quick and soft, he wish he had the power to slow down time to take it all in. He blinked rapidly, unable to process what had just happened. He definitely wasn’t mad though, quite the opposite actually.
“Thanks, Steven.” You close your locker, after grabbing your notebooks and the bouquet before walking off. You quickly turn around and walk backwards “drive me home okay?” You smile before spinning and going off to class.
Steven. You couldn’t see it but Steve pumps his fist in the air. Oh yeah, Steve Harrington was so out of the dog house.
————————————————————————
Mango talks! Again!: thank you so much for reading. If you want to check out more neighbor Steve, you can read:
This way!
Hope you enjoyed and thanks for reading! Check out my other works on my page <3 I am also taking requests xx
Summary: Steve Harrington and his friends ruin your Romeo & Juliet callback, you vow to never speak to him ever again, and Steve vows to make it up to you.
Word count: 4.6K
Warnings: x reader, it’s angsty, they fight, drama or whateva, but you know! They make it up again in the end! Steve absolutely pining for ya, mentions of Carol bullying Robin. I’m sick right now, so my writing might be dogshit. We’ll see.
Mango talks 🥭: hello awesome sauce human beings! I’m so glad people were excited for this one! I hope it doesn’t disappoint. I’ve been wanting to write Theatre Reader for a while, since I, mango, do theatre. So this is a love letter to all my theatre kiddos! Hope you enjoy 💗
————————————————————————
Line after line, your eyes racing on the page, and yet, it still didn’t feel right. You had been practicing this monologue for hours each passing day, but still you felt like there was something missing in your performance.
Juliet. When you saw your name on the callback sheet next to the role of Juliet you squealed. Hand in hand with Robin, you both looked absolutely mad jumping up and down in circles in the middle of the school hallway. After years of being in the Hawkins High drama department, you’ve never gotten a lead. You were ensemble every now and then, supporting roles here and there, even understudy, but never a lead. Especially not in shows as classic and timeless as Romeo and Juliet. You could really shine this time.
——————————————————————
Hours on hours every day you made Robin practice with you, which got a bit silly.
“O Romeo! Romeo, wherefore art though romeo?” You deliver the line with so much passion and control, missing the part where Robin actively yawns, you two have been going at this for the 76th time today. “Rob! it’s your line.”
“Shit- right, sorry.” Robin scrambles to find her page before sighing and giving the most monotone and uninteresting delivery, “Shall I hear more, or shall I uh- shall I speak at this- or whatever.” Robin gives little unenthusiastic jazz hands.
“At least pretend to be interested, I need an active scene partner!”
“Cut me some slack! Please! We’ve been rehearsing this for hours!” Robin flopped on to her back on your bed. “You got this. You’ve got it down, trust me. You’re going to get the role of Juliet, and I’m going to be the best Mercutio you’ve ever seen.”
“I don’t know Robin, Kristy Claybell is pretty good.” You feel yourself going into a cold sweat thinking about facing your competition for this role, somehow for everything it was always between you and her. You didn’t have anything against Kristy at all, in fact, you always tried to be overly nice to her because you could feel the tension, but it always seemed like she gave you the cold shoulder or was ready to stab you right in the face with a machete.
Robin rolls her eyes, “Kristy Claybell can suck a fat one.”
———————————————————————
You have exactly two hours and twenty minutes before your callback at the end of the school day, you take every chance you get during passing periods to glance down at your lines, evidently not making you pay attention to what’s in front of you. Before you know it, you feel a hand ruffling your hair.
“Where’s the fire?” Steve asks with a sly smirk “you’re going to kill someone walking with your head down at 80 miles per hour.” He shrugged, “had to pull you over for speeding.” Your stupid neighbor. He enjoyed messing with you and getting under your skin, playful sure, but it didn’t make it any less annoying.
“I’m practicing lines for my callback Steve” you mumble, swatting his hand and fixing your hair, which you tried to make especially perfect today for your big day and now it’s a mess. Stupid Harrington strikes again.
Dickhead.
Steve chuckles before running his hands through your hair to fix the mess he created, even pushing strands of hair behind your ear, causing slight small butterflies to form in your stomach. But that’s totally just because of the audition…
“Ah” he grabs your lines and holds it up so it was just out of reach for you. “Is this what I’ve been hearing every night? I could’ve sworn it was a cat dying or a moose getting murdered in the middle of the night, my mistake.”
“Stalker” you fired back. Your windows were across from each other, so he must’ve heard a lot, especially your fights with Robin when she tries giving directorial notes that didn’t make any sense, “be cooler.” Those were particularly loud. “What? You sit by your window and just watch me you perv?”
You tried grabbing your pages back, but Steve put his arm against you, pushing you down before he started to dramatically read “O Romeo! Romeo!” He made sure to make his voice sound impressively high pitch, he thought he was quite funny.
“Shut up Steven” you hit his arm and grab the papers, swiping them away from him before rolling your eyes. Steve has always gotten on your nerves even as children. He’d cheat in hide and seek and always been too fast to catch in tag. Annoying little bastard.
“Oh.” You mumble, “my grandparents want to know if you and your parents are coming over for dinner on Sunday.”
“We’ll be there” Steve smiles with that classic Steve the hair Harrington smile. That made you want to punch him, but also, you didn’t hate it.
“Bummer. I was actually looking forward to a peaceful dinner.” You deadpan. “Now go away, don’t you have some girl to suck face with? Or another class to sleep through?”
Steve pouts in fake annoyance before he starts walking off, when he takes a couple steps he turns around again, “oh- break a hand” giving a thumbs up.
“A leg you mean?” Steve’s face immediately goes bright red before he scratches the back of his neck.
“Yeah, yeah that.” There goes the butterflies in your stomach again damn it.
———————————————————————
Your palms were sweating, your face was sweating, could legs sweat? You’re not entirely sure, but they felt like they were sweating the most. When you heard it was your turn to go on stage, you swore you were about to run out of the room, change your name, and not look back.
The stage lights were blinding and you swear your body just didn’t work anymore. Mrs. Robinson gave you a smile before pushing up her glasses, “whenever you’re ready dear.” You always liked Mrs. Robinson, she was a great drama teacher. Very sweet, you always imagined her as a cat lady with exactly three cats: snuffles, tangerine, and pickle. However, right now, she was the most intimidating thing you’ve ever seen. you take a deep breath in before beginning. You could feel your body getting into a rhythm, a sense of calm washes over you as you begin delivering your lines. Mrs Robinson smiling and jotting some notes down. You always felt so at peace on the stage. There was something so special about turning yourself off and hopping into another character, it made you feel whole. You couldn’t image yourself anywhere else. It was meant for you, it was always meant for you.
Everything appeared to be going well, until the middle of your monologue you hear some snickering and claps that echoed across the auditorium. You did your best to block out the noise.
“What’s in a name? That which we call- um.” The noises got louder in the back of the auditorium, it sounded like whispers and cheers, and your mind began to go blank. Shit shit shit you’re forgetting the words. You try your best to avoid your eyes steering where the sound was coming from, but it was no use, your eyes auto directed towards the noise, Steve Harrington and his two simpleton henchmen.
“A rose, by any other word-“ before you know it, Carol and Tommy H. Started hollering and screaming through their hands in the most obnoxious and mocking way ever, Steve only sits and smiles watching you, but doing nothing to stop them. You begin to stutter, Mrs. Robinson, taking in your discomfort, turns around, takes off her glasses and begins yelling.
“You three! Out! Now!” Heat climbs all over your face as you stand on the stage, feeling vulnerable and awkward. “Harrington, Perkins, Hagen. I’ll see you three in detention!” Mrs. Robinson threatened. It didn’t have any effect though, Tommy and Carol only rolled their eyes and laughed as they hopped over the auditorium seats to exit, Steve strolling behind.
“Blow me” Carol blew Mrs. Robinson an air kiss.
“Break a leg!” Tommy shouted at you laughing deviously like the idiot he was, before blowing a whistle like noise through his fingers.
You were doing so well before being interrupted, now you’re going to have to start over and find that rhythm again, you stand back in the center of the stage ready to restart. Okay, you’ve got this, again.
“I’ve seen enough” Mrs Robinson looks down at her notes, “you can go sweetheart, thank you.”
“what?” you mutter out “oh I- I didn’t finish” you smile awkwardly, you could feel the tears swelling up in your eyes and your throat closing in.
“That’s alright dear, I’ve seen what I needed.”
“Right! Absolutely. But- if I could just take a few more minutes of your time to redo my scene-“
“That won’t be necessary” your heart fell to your stomach. You could only stare forward, scared that making any sudden reactions would result in you bawling in front of your theatre director, which would 100% be very unprofessional. There was no way your fate was being determined by three assholes who barged in to embarrass you, you worked too hard for your mistakes to not even be from you but instead outside forces who can’t even write a full sentence. When you turned your head, Kristy Claybell picked at her nails and smiled, waiting for you to get off the stage so she could blow Mrs. Robinson's mind with her talent and take Juliet right from under your nose.
You bit your lip to stop yourself from tearing up, you smiled at Mrs. Robinson and thanked her for her time before grabbing your bag and quickly pushed through the auditorium doors. You needed to go home, you needed to call Robin and tell her what a douchebag Steve Harrington was, maybe even egg his house! I mean, he was literally next door over, so it wouldn’t require much travel.
———————————————————————
As you swiftly ran out the auditorium, you conveniently ran into Steve and his two goons. Perfect.
“Hey” Steve smiled at you, perching himself up with one arm on a locker, you would be thinking he looked really good right now, but you were mixed with so much rage, despair, and the complete need to down some Ben and Jerry’s chocolate ice cream and cry into your dad’s arms, that you couldn’t think anything positive of him right now. You had to go home.
“How’d the rest of the audition go princess?” Tommy smiled while trying not to laugh, Carol snorted into her sleeve.
Your mind told you to walk away from them, that they weren’t worth it, don’t give them the satisfaction, but you instead turned back to look at them, trying your best not to let your throat close in and cry. “Yeah, uh-” you lick your teeth “I wouldn’t know, because after the bullshit you three pulled, I got sent home. So.”
“Woah- what?” Steve’s eyebrows furrowed.
“You ruined my audition, Steve. That’s what.” You looked up at him waiting for him to somehow justify himself, but he wasn’t looking at you. He felt guilty, it was supposed to be harmless, he didn’t think you would be the one to bear the consequences.
“It was just a joke, relax.” Carol spat at you, quite literally, with all the gum she’s smacking like her life depended on it, probably going through withdrawal from all the packs she needed to smoke.
“Okay, so I actually wasn’t talking to you, bitch.” Your voice was sprayed with venom, you’re normally a very nice and delightful human being, but you’ve been meaning to spite Carol, especially since the nasty shit she pulled on Robin. Carol accused Robin of checking her out in the girl’s locker room, while all the girls sneered and giggled, Robin couldn’t do anything to defend herself. It made her feel helpless. While you were furious for your best friend, prepared to key Carol’s car, she told you to let it go, that it wasn’t worth it. Well Robin! That was for you!
Carol scoffed, ready to have some kind of catfight with you, but Steve blocked you with his body, holding you tightly, and telling Hagen to get his girl and walk off. When Carol and Tommy finally left, you shoved Steve off of you. God, you had so much pent up rage and momentum.
“You’re such an asshole.” You shook your head and felt the tears about to fall. “Of all the things you’ve done, Harrington, this is the lowest blow.” Harrington. It made his face grimace when you said it, he’s never been Harrington to you. Steve normally, Steven whenever you were annoyed with him (playfully annoyed he would think.) He really liked Steven, the only other people to call him Steven were his parents, but it was a lot cuter coming from you. Never Harrington though, he could add this to his mental notes of you, if you called him Harrington you were really really pissed. It was like you were trying to act like you didn’t know him, like there was a social disconnect between you two.
he said your name in the quietest comforting voice “I’m sorry, okay?” He was trying to find all the right words, “look. I didn’t know that was going to happen. I swear- Tommy and Carol, I mean, they’re just idiots, you know them.” He awkwardly laughed, like that’s an excuse.
“The three of you, were just conveniently being idiots while I was on stage, that’s great, just great. Thanks for that.” you spew sarcastically, “you actually couldn’t have picked a better time!” You shrug, walking away. Steve was right behind you, swooping in to be right in front of you once more.
“Hey, hey” Steve lightly grabbed the sides of your shoulders, “I swear to you. I just came to” he pauses before looking down “watch you.. you know, and support you.” Steve feels so shy suddenly, he knows how it sounds, especially with your perv comment from earlier. Because yes, Steve did enjoy being in your presence and watching you perform, he admired it.
“Why would you ever want to do that?” To you it was some kind of joke, but to Steve it was like a rhetorical question. Why wouldn’t he? He loves everything you do, scratch that, he loves everything about you. When you were up on that stage, Steve Harrington looked at you like you hung the moon and created the stars, just for him.
“Tommy and Carol just wanted to tag along when they heard where I was going, I didn’t know they were going to do that. I didn’t, I swear.”
“And you didn’t stop it. You just let them sit there and humiliate me.” Steve stares at you now, mouth gone dry. You’re right. He should’ve stopped it. “Thanks to you, I have blown the biggest callback of my life, for the one thing I really wanted, something I worked-” the tears were working up again, damn it. “So hard for. I mean you knew that, right?” Steve looked at you like a lost puppy, maybe in a different context you would feel even a sliver of compassion, but not now. No way. “You sat by the window and listened to me and Robin rehearsing every day for hours. And now? It was all for nothing, and Mrs. Robinson probably thinks I’m not taking it seriously, so yes, please thank Tommy H and Carol for me, ok?” You give him one last sarcastic lip tight smile.
“I’m sorry- cmon, please, let me make it up to you, let me take you home, okay?” he pleaded, he’ll get on his knees if that’s really what you want “and I’ll- I’ll talk to Mrs Robinson, tell her it’s all just a big misunderstanding- “
“-What’s that going to do? You think she’ll listen to you? Steve, you failed drama twice.” It was three times. But who’s counting. “Besides, even if she did listen, what? I’m going to get a role I didn’t deserve, all because the hero Steve the Hair Harrington somehow talked me up? yeah, no thanks.” You scoffed.
Steve was determined to fix this for you, you’re more deserving of this than anyone he knew. “You know, I could turn on my charm and-“
“Jesus Harrington! Stop talking!” You put your arms out like you were about to strangle him, “You caused this. The least you could do is shut your damn mouth and leave me alone. I never want to talk to you again.” If you knew any better, you would say there were little specs of tears in Steve Harrington’s eyes. You walked out, leaving Steve standing in the hallway feeling his heart was chipping away one piece at a time.
——————————————————————-
Over the past couple days, you have been doing nothing but bed-rotting with Robin, you refused to get up, and as your best friend, she also now refused to get up and has now more of a reason to hate Steve Harrington than she already did before. All you could think about was that on Monday when you got back to school, the cast list would be up, and you’d be nowhere on it.
Steve had also been trying to reach out:
Calling your house, you told your dad to tell him you weren’t home. Ever.
Slipping notes through your lockers, a lot of “I’m sorry” “please don’t stay mad” and “I’ll drive you home after school, yeah?” Crumbled, crumbled, and crumbled.
Shining a flashlight through your window. You and Steve used to do this as kids, it was a funny gag to annoy the other person. But now he was doing it to get your attention, which led to Robin screaming at him because the light flickering on and off over and over again was nearly going to give her a migraine.
“Jesus Christ Harrington!” Robin grabbed on to your curtains at the window before shouting, “get a clue dingus! She doesn’t want to talk to you!” Robin slammed your window shut before dragging the curtains along with it.
It was Sunday. You forgot the Harringtons were invited over for dinner, and it was petty to get the entire family involved in your drama. So, at dinner, you barely said anything at all. Not unless provoked, such as being asked a question, then you just got really obnoxious.
“Are you feeling alright?” Your dad asked you, Steve looks at you, waiting for an answer.
“Yeah, yeah, just down. You know, just some drama at school.” Now you were piercing your eyes right into Steve Harrington’s soul. Steve scoffs, he feels bad but you were doing way too much. He can’t complain though, he deserves it.
The rest of the dinner went smoothly, you were polite and cordial, made a couple jokes here and there, and was completely successful in avoiding Steve. He wishes you took at least one glance at him, because he was watching you the whole night, not even just in guilt, he always just liked looking at you, and it killed him that you weren’t looking back and possibly blushing like you used to.
By the end of the night, Mrs. Harrington was saying her goodbyes to your grandparents, making plans to have dinner again next week, and Mr. Harrington and your father were chatting about the upcoming football game and fixing the fence dividing your houses that you accidentally ran into with your car (whoops, sorry..) That just left you with Steve, who you couldn’t look in the eye. You say a blanket goodnight to everyone before exiting the front entrance and walking up the stairs to your room to get away from him.
“Hey” Steve’s breath was shaky, he followed you to the bottom of the steps, you rolled your eyes and kept walking. “I know! Okay I messed up! ” he calls out to you, he’s pleading again. “I know you don’t want to talk to me, but just, give me three minutes of your time and you’ll never have to talk to me again if that’s not what you want.”
“Two.” You deadpan.
“I’ll make it one” Steve chuckles, and you almost chuckle too, almost. “I just want to say- I’m sorry. I’m sorry about Thursday. I should’ve shut them up, maybe punched Tommy H in the face, and I shouldn’t have ruined your callback thing.”
“You’re telling me things I already know, Harrington.”
“But- but. I just want to say, before Tommy and Carol opened their mouths, you were really good. I mean! You’re always good. It’s just, seeing you on that stage reading your old English or whatever, I knew, you were the perfect Juliet. Granted, I never finished reading Romeo and Juliet for English class and uh shit fuck, I swear I rehearsed this.”
“You got 30 seconds” it was more like 15, but if he continued to flatter you, you’ll give him an extra 15 seconds just to compliment you.
“Okay okay I- I know I messed up, but I swear to you, god, no one, I mean no one is built for that role more than you. So I just came here to say, don’t sweat about that stupid nerdy cast list. If you’re not on it, it won’t be because of me, or Carol, or Tommy H, but because Mrs. Robinson is an idiot who can’t see what I see.” Your eyes narrowed. “You won’t have to worry about that list though, cause I know you’ll be Juliet, and I’m sorry I’m a dumb knucklehead that pushed you a little off course of that.” Steve finally let go of his breath, he could have the chops to be an actor too if he really tried, great breath control. “That’s all.”
You stare at him trying not to smile even a little, you wanted him to grovel a little more, but you appreciated everything you heard.
“Goodnight Harrington.”
“Goodnight.” Steve watched you walk up the steps to your room before closing your door, he caught a little glimpse of your yellow and pink wallpaper. He’s seen your room through his window, memorizing the posters on your walls and the knick knacks on your nightstand, but never has gotten the privilege to actually be physically in there.
One day though.
———————————————————————
The following Monday, you avoided the theatre blackbox as much as possible, knowing the list will be up and your fate will be sealed. You feel heavy, like your feet are just dragging on the ground and a rain cloud you can’t seem to shake resides above you.
“Hey!” You can hear Robin scream from behind you, she’s panting, “I have been running all over this damn school looking for you.” Robin was your other half, but right now, her sunny disposition and your melancholy existence do not mix well. She grabs your shoulders tightly before turning you around, making you squeal “have you checked the cast list?” Her tone sharp, and actually kind of scary.
“No, Rob. And I don’t plan to, there’s no point.”
“But! Did you hear who got Juliet?” She practically screams in your ear.
“Tell Kristy I said congratulations and I know she’ll do amazing as always.” You try to open your locker to grab your notebooks, but Robin had other plans.
“Oh my god, Kristy Claybell can suck a fat one.” Robin grabs you by the collar and basically drags you to the cast list, you refused to look at first, but Robin wouldn’t stop hitting you on the arm.
“Okay! Okay!” You slapped her back, your eyes traced over the sheet, starting at the bottom, assuming you’d be placed in the ensemble. When you can't find your name you keep going up and up.
“Congratulations on Mercutio.” You gave Robin a fist bump, still keeping your eyes on the sheet. “I don’t see my name anywhere.” You feel deflated, you could’ve at least made ensemble rather than nothing at all.
Robin’s eyes roll to the back of her head “You’re such a dingus.” She places your finger at the very top of the page.
Your name. Next to Juliet.
You’re Juliet.
“Holy shit!” You’re Juliet! You want to scream and jump up and down with Robin, but you feel too excited, like the happiness radiating from your body was somehow pushing you down. Plus, it was best not to gloat, Kristy and the other candidates were standing right there, but you swore someone whispered “She was definitely the best choice.”
After you calmed down, for some reason, the first thing that popped into your head was to tell your charmingly annoying neighbor. You wanted to go up to Steve and tell him your big news, but why would he care? He thought theatre was for nerds anyway, and like he said, he never finished Romeo and Juliet for his English class. Walking to grab your notebooks, you had a little extra pep in your step, you couldn’t help but do a little dance when opening your locker. When you swung it open, a note dropped into your hands.
You picked it up, and opened it with so much care, “Congratulations :) I knew you could do it.” it read. You knew exactly who this was from.
You hear someone clearing their throat right behind you, Steve Harrington, the one and only.
“When’d you slip this in my locker, stalker?” You give a sly smile.
Steve scratched the back of his neck, keeping the other hand tightly behind his back. “Right when I found out. I paced back and forth all morning for Mrs. Robinson to come out and stick the list on the board, she shook her head and rolled her eyes when she saw me.” He whispered, “I wanted to be the first person to congratulate you when I knew you’d get it.” He shrugged, he wanted to appear nonchalant.
You two look at one another, there’s something there that you can’t quite place, but you like it, you really like it. It’s like you two were magnets, pulling closer and closer to one another.
You both cough at the same time and Steve laughs awkwardly before he remembered “oh uh- I got you these.” Steve pulls his hand from his back revealing a bouquet of flowers. “I got this for you before the cast list even came out you know- like if you somehow didn’t get Juliet, I guess these would be like “I’m sorry for being an asshole” flowers, but like I thought you would get it- so actually these are more like congratulation flowers-“
“I thought theatre was dorky.” you smiled, grabbing the flowers from his hands. He was rambling and his cheeks were turning bright pink.
“No! No. It’s cool, well it’s cool when you do it.” Steve Harrington could never keep composure around you for more than a minute. The usual charm and flirtatious manner he seemed to wow the girls with never seemed to work when it came to you, he melted for you. You turned his legs to jello and you brought out the little boy in him who used to try to scare you just so you’d yell “Steven!” He loved hearing you say his name.
“I know the tradition is to bring flowers on a show’s opening night, but i already bought these and obviously these would die by the time-“ Steve was cut off when you perched yourself up to quickly plant a peck on his lips, it was quick and soft, he wish he had the power to slow down time to take it all in. He blinked rapidly, unable to process what had just happened. He definitely wasn’t mad though, quite the opposite actually.
“Thanks, Steven.” You close your locker, after grabbing your notebooks and the bouquet before walking off. You quickly turn around and walk backwards “drive me home okay?” You smile before spinning and going off to class.
Steven. You couldn’t see it but Steve pumps his fist in the air. Oh yeah, Steve Harrington was so out of the dog house.
————————————————————————
Mango talks! Again!: thank you so much for reading. If you want to check out more neighbor Steve, you can read:
This way!
Hope you enjoyed and thanks for reading! Check out my other works on my page <3 I am also taking requests xx
