iwritefandomimagines

[iwritefandomimagines]

links are finally working again so here is a new matty fic & the last one finally linked !!!

ST. DENIS MEDICAL MASTERLIST

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

matt pearson

↳ do not touch

↳ obvious

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

MAIN MASTERLIST PINNED

[iwritefandomimagines]

OBVIOUS — MATT PEARSON

masterlist

pairing: nurse matt pearson x nurse!reader

description: matt’s eavesdropping suddenly feels like a mistake when he hears serena asking you about a date. little does he know, it was disastrous, and for one reason — he’s the one you really want.

tags/warnings: jealous!matt, cursing, all just sweet cute fluffiness, matty being awkward and reader being the one to confess first <3 it’s pretty short as usual of late but i’m on my period and feeling like a big ol’ softie rn

author’s note: keeping the self indulgent matty fics coming because they’re fun to write and i love him and i don’t feel so much pressure writing fics where i know approx 3 people will read them hehe <3 please enjoy & let me know what you think

———

“Soooo…”

You roll your eyes at the smirk on Serena’s face, knowing exactly what it is she’s come padding straight over to you about at the exact second you start your shift.

Matt’s ears automatically prick up, his eyes trained on the way your cheeks blush crimson and your jaw clenches.

You nudge Serena’s side gently, your voice barely a whisper, “Shut up!”

She shakes her head at you with a laugh, “C’mon, you can’t keep gossip like this from me.”

Gossip. Right. Matt knows he should tune out now but it’s gossip and it’s about you so he can’t.

“I can,” you singsong, eyes narrowed in warning as she continues to laugh, “And I will.”

“It’s your first date in, like, forever!”

Your eyes widen as you scold her with a string of curse words under your breath, “I’m so not talking to you about this right now.”

You’re suddenly aware that Matt was nearby when you got here and Serena had interrupted your usual routine of going straight to him to say hi.

You really hope he can’t hear you right now.

Serena just tuts, circling you like a shark for a moment with her pen between her teeth.

She smirks, catching Matt’s eye for a second and then leaning in to whisper in your ear, “Why? Scared Matty’s gonna hear the dirty details?”

Your eyes flicker back to where Matt is stood meters away, curiosity clear in his pretty brown eyes. You also detect more than an ounce of something you can’t quite recognise, but that appears a little like disappointment.

Your stomach does flips, and you find yourself sending him a reassuring smile as if to desperately plead for his forgiveness for something you’d somehow done wrong.

Serena snaps you back into reality with a cough, a teasing smile on her face as she makes it known she’s acknowledged that you were utterly, if only briefly, distracted.

“So come on, how was it?” she isn’t giving in, and now you don’t want to even look at Matt for fear of seeing how he’d react to details of your date.

The crush you’d harboured for him had been ongoing for as long as you’d been working together, and sometimes you think he must be blind not to know.

Granted, you were yet to make him aware by actually telling him… but there was no way you were going to do that — and you figured the cliche of him somehow not realising was his fault and not yours.

“If you must know, it was shitty,” you sighed, recounting the disaster of a date in your head and cringing profusely, “He was fine, nice. But I basically indirectly told him I was only going on a date to get over someone and surprisingly that didn’t go down well.”

Serena’s laugh echoes, and you notice a few people turn to stare, but Matt is no longer anywhere in sight when you swivel your head to check, “Oh, babe.”

You pinch the bridge of your nose with your thumb and forefinger, “He was hot, as well. Jesus christ he was so hot but all I could think about was you know who.”

You look down at your feet with a frown.

When you look back up, Serena’s expression is no longer teasing you and instead a little more serious — but a small smirk still plays at her lips.

“If you’d seen his face when I said the word date,” the smug tone of her voice made you shake your head as she continued, “He looked like a kicked puppy. Even more so than on, like, an average day. He was so jealous.”

You scoff, “No, he just didn’t want to listen to us gossip and probably had better stuff to do.”

“When does Matt ever have anything better to do when he could be lingering around you like a bad smell?” she jokes, and your stomach flutters a little at the notion of people noticing how much he seems to like being around you.

Still, you don’t really believe her.

“When, like us, he has patients to see,” your brow is quirked as she pouts in disappointment at your lack of enthusiasm to carry on the conversation, “I’ll catch up with you in a bit, yeah?”

“Look, I don’t get why you’re so into him,” she shrugs, “But he’s so obviously into you too and you need to just do something about it.”

You bite your lip, sighing as she turns away.

If Matt was jealous, you wondered how he’d act around you today.

Would he be his usual shy self? He always tended to toe the line between being incredibly nervous around you and being the most comfortable he was around any of his colleagues.

You’ve turned on your heel and you’re barrelling towards the room your first patient is currently waiting in, your mind entirely elsewhere, when you collide with the very person who has got you so distracted.

“Oh—oh, I’m so—,” Matt pauses for a second as he realises it’s you, “Y/N! I’m sorry, I wasn’t looking and I— oh I should’ve been looking! You’re probably busy and—,”

You place a hand on his shoulder to steady him and you’re sure you feel him tense at the contact.

You smile across at him, “Matty, it’s my fault.”

He relaxes at the sight of your warm smile, his pretty eyes all puppy-dog like again and you have to swallow thickly to pull yourself out of the trance they’ve put you in.

“No—no, not at all.”

“Matty, I wasn’t looking where I was going.”

“Neither was I and—,”

“Matty… Seriously.”

He sighs, blinking at you for a moment as he ponders his next move and tries not to focus on the fact you’re still touching him.

“How was, uh, your date?” You idiot, he curses himself, why did you ask so abruptly? Or even at all?

But he can’t help himself, it’s the very reason he was so distracted in the first place.

“Oh you, uh, you heard that?”

He nods.

“Serena said she’s sick of me moping about—um, about— she just thought I should—,” you’re getting flustered and you can’t decide what lie to spin about why you went on that stupid damn date, “She thought I should go on a date and I caved. It—It was terrible.”

He looks concerned for a second, and you realise that the distress on your face has suggested it was worse than it really was.

“Not, like, terrible, just not good,” you shrug, smiling shyly at him, “I just didn’t like him like that.”

He breathes out, lips pursed as he waits to see if you have any more to say, and when you don’t, he smiles, “That’s a shame. Plenty more fish in the hospital! The sea, I meant the sea.”

You laugh at his mistake, but can’t help yourself from thinking about Serena’s words and wondering if maybe she really was right.

All the times Alex had aww’d at you getting close to Matt, all the times Ron would roll his eyes as Matt tried to make you laugh, all the times you’d catch Bruce winking at him as he approached you.

Here goes nothing, you figure.

“In the hospital, huh?”

“I meant sea,” he gulps, avoiding eye contact and fiddling with his fingers, “It’s just because we’re—because we’re in a hospital. I wasn’t suggesting the right fish—guy— is here.”

The hand that still remains on his shoulder falls to your side now, but not without a gentle rub of the pad of your thumb across his sleeve.

“He might be,” you shrug, eyes narrowed as if challenging him to look directly at you now.

He’s squirming under your gaze, more anxious than you’ve ever seen him, and somehow it emboldens you more.

“If you must know, I was on a date because I thought I should get over someone else,” you’re hoping the leading tone of your voice gives him the hint, but he still seems oblivious.

If anything, he just looks more disappointed.

You draw in a sharp breath, “Matty— I—,”

“Is it Bruce? Serena was saying lots of women like strong older guys,” he’s lost in thought now, racking his brain for who it could possibly be, “Or someone in a different department? Oh, uh, you don’t have to tell me. Or you can… I won’t—I won’t mind.”

Something tells you he would.

“Seriously, Matty?” you giggle, and the way his face drops like you’re making fun of him makes your hand fly up to his arm yet again, “Are you seriously that oblivious?”

He looks somewhere between shellshock and utter confusion, head tilted like a perplexed puppy as you let out another shy chuckle.

He frowns, “What do you mean? Is it Serena? Oh, I totally don’t-don’t care if you’re into girls! Or—uh—I don’t know?”

You shake your head, “Matty, it’s you. C’mon, that’s so obvious.”

“Me?”

He drinks in your words but still struggles to swallow them, like he can’t possibly believe that you mean them.

“Yes, you,” you chuckle, “We spend, like, all of our time together and I’d have thought it was obvious.”

He gulps, “Right, yeah, sure. Obvious. Totally obvious. Like—obvious how?”

“Obvious like I try to spend all of my time with you, maybe,” you smile, suddenly shy again as you lay things bare, “Or like I—well I don’t know, it seems to be obvious to everyone else.”

Matt ponders this for a second, “Well I thought it was obvious that I like you.”

“Oh it is, apparently,” you shrug, chuckling, “Just not to me. Guess it’s harder to tell when you’re too worried about yourself being all googly eyed at work.”

You see his chest puff out a little, the smile on his face resembling what you think would be a smirk on anyone else, “Googly eyed?”

You roll your eyes and his face settles more into just a genuine smile, “No I-I like that. You being googly eyed over me. It’s nice.”

You’re acutely aware that you really need to get to work, but you don’t want to tear yourself from your conversation right now.

Still, though, you must.

“I really need to go,” you watch his face drop momentarily and send him a soft smile, “But we can talk about this at lunch, maybe? I’m sure if I told Alex why then she’d be fine with us sneaking off for our break today. She’s like our #1 cheerleader— maybe tied with Serena.”

He shakes his head, “Our, first date— well technically our first date— can’t be on our lunch break, Y/N!”

You can see the cogs whirring in his head, trying to concoct some kind of plan.

“I was thinking we just go for a walk so we can talk away from everyone’s ears,” you giggle, “Doesn’t have to be a date if we don’t call it one. I’d like to not be in scrubs for our first date, for starters.”

Now Matt nods, “Right, yeah, of course. Well I need to go speak to—uh—gonna go speak to Bruce. I’ll see you at lunch, hopefully sooner?”

Your eyes widen, “Please god don’t ask for advice from Bruce, Matty. We’ll talk at lunch and we’ll figure this all out our way, yeah? Just me and you.”

He thinks over your words for a second and nods again nervously, “Yeah, okay. Me and you. Just me and you.”

“I’ll see you later, Matty, yeah?”

“You-you will!”

“Can’t wait.”

As you approach the door to the room you were supposed to have been in five minutes ago, Serena appears seemingly out of nowhere in the corner of your eye.

“You finally fucking did it!”

“Oh go away, I have work to do!”

“Sure,” she smirks as you roll your eyes at her for the millionth time today, “Try not to think about Matt too much while you’re in there, yeah?”

She flutters her lashes teasingly as you send her a discreet middle finger.

But she’s right, keeping Matt off your mind until your lunch break would be an impossible task.

———

i had no idea how to end this LOL but i love matt so much i’m rewatching SDM already as i write this and still struggling to write him well but plsssss let me know what you thought !!!!!

(big thank u to the person who let me know they liked the last fic & sent a request — working on that one too rn!!!)

[iwritefandomimagines]

WELCOME DISTRACTION — STEVE HARRINGTON

masterlist

part one | part two | part three (soon)

[can be read as a standalone]

pairing: scoops!steve harrington x bookstore worker!reader

description: since that first time steve came into your store, he’s become something of a permanent fixture. and you wouldn’t have it any other way… even if you were still not quite sure what this thing between you was.

tags/warnings: teasy flirty friends to lovers, dustin being a ynsteve truther, bit of hot n heavy kissing but that’s the furthest it goes

author’s note: already obsessed with writing bookstore!reader and steve so bad lol i hope you all enjoy this part two!!! it’s a lil short but pretty please let me know what you think <3

you don’t need to have read part one to read this, but it will be a kinda series so u may want to!!!

———

“Well if it isn’t my favourite customer!”

The smile that lit up your face brought an even bigger one to Steve’s, even though it wasn’t directed at him.

“Oh, Steve’s here too,” you giggled as Dustin turned to poke his tongue out at his friend, “Hey Harrington. Dustin.”

Steve feigned upset as his hand left his pockets, “And here I thought we’d progressed past last names.”

He’s not in his Scoops uniform today, and you chuckle at the effort he makes not to wear it when he visits you — at least whenever he can avoid it.

“Whoops, sorry Stevie,” you quickly put down the book you’d been reading before their arrival — quiet shift, as usual — and propped your elbows up on the counter as they approached, “But to be fair, it’s Dustin who spends his money in here and you just spend my patience…”

Steve’s hands fly to his mouth, “Ouch, sweetheart. I thought we had something special.”

Dustin waves his hand in the air frantically, “Please can you save the flirting for when I’m not here or just, like, stop?”

You tut, “C’mon, me flirting with Steve? I’d never.”

Dustin scoffs.

The way you smirk and bite your lip reassures Steve that you’re only joking and this relieves him.

With all the progress your relationship had made to teeter on the precipice of something more than friendship, he couldn’t bear the thought of you not actually seeing him as anything but friends.

“You two are painful to be around, you know?”

“You wound me, Henderson,” Steve pouts, his arm lingering dangerously close to yours as he leans on the counter with his back to you to face the teen, “You’d never tell since you spend all your time hanging around us.”

Dustin scoffs, “Not true.”

“Need I remind you of the old woman who somehow thought we were your parents the other day,” you quirk your brow at him, “Given you were practically hanging off my arm asking me to rent you movies you’re too young for.”

“Fine, I hang around. But you only care because you want alone time to fawn over Y/N privately,” Dustin points at Steve as he raises the pitch of his voice, “Oooh Y/N you’re so pretty. Oooh Y/N I might even have to learn to read to impress you because I obviously can’t. Ooh Y/N please stop being just my friend and gimme a big fat smoochie smooch.”

While Dustin begins making kissy noises and pulling out a rented comic from his bag to return, you watch Steve’s face turn crimson.

It takes everything in you not to burst out laughing, “Wow, Dustin, your Steve impression is spot on. It’s like he’s in the room with us.”

“Uh, thanks, he is,” Steve huffs, nudging your arm and standing back up straight again, “I can obviously read. And I do not talk like that or fawn over Y/N. She fawns over me, actually.”

You scoff, raising a hand to your chest, “You got me. You must allow me to tell you how ardently I admire and love you.”

Your reference is met with blank stares, and so you roll your eyes, “Pride and Prejudice? You uncultured dinguses!”

Steve makes a mental note to do some kind of research on the book to understand your references going forward.

“Anyway,” Dustin coughs, “I’m heading next door to the arcade and you two can pretend you’re not totally in love whilst also being sickeningly clearly in love in like 30 seconds, I just wanted to return this.”

He plops the comic down on the counter and you make quick work of filing it in the returns box and filling in the returns sheet in front of you.

“Gonna ignore your comment and be professional,” you hum, “Can I interest you in borrowing anything else while you’re here?”

He shrugs, “Not today. I’m already late since someone was too busy making sure he looked good to come to the bookstore soooo.”

Immediately he’s turned on his heel and out the door, leaving you to laugh at a cherry red Steve.

“Aw, you get yourself all dolled up and pretty for me do you Stevie?” you flutter your lashes as he shakes his head at you.

He turns fully to face you now, eyes twinkling as you soak in the prolonged silence between you.

“I do not, I’m always pretty and you know that,” he flips his hair and leans in closer to you, “Like you don’t top up your lipgloss when you know I’m swinging by, huh?”

You roll your eyes, fighting back the blush because he is so right and you didn’t think Steve Harrington would ever notice that.

You subconsciously rub your lips together for a second, “Not true. Besides, why would I? Not like you’re gonna do Dustin a favour and finally beg me for a smoochie smooch.”

“Do you a favour, more like.”

“Ding, ding, ding, bang on the money.”

He pokes his tongue out at the sarcasm in your tone and your grin widens, “You’re a welcome distraction in this bore of a place, but don’t get too big for your boots now Romeo. People might really think I’m in love with you or something.”

“Duh, you totally are,” he beams.

“So sure of yourself, huh?”

“Hey, you love it,” he shrugs, “Hard to believe you don’t do stuff to tease me, by the way. Y’get all close and smell like cherries and pout your lips and make it, like, so hard not to kiss you.”

You still, no longer laughing but instead feeling your face burn red and your heartbeat increase.

He isn’t stopping now he’s started, and you’re now aware of just how close he is to you, “And you flirt with me so openly and then get flustered when it crosses the line of teasing into something real.”

Your lips are parted, ‘o’ shaped, your eyes never leaving his once as he steps towards you.

He cups your face with his hand, voice barely above a whisper, “But I think you’d go on like this forever, toeing the line, if I don’t do something about it. God knows I’ve wanted to forever. Can barely hear myself think when it’s not about you.”

“A bit obsessed, hm?” your voice betrays your real feelings as you try to mask them with yet more teasing.

He laughs, “If you ask the kids, yeah. But I can see by the look on your face it’s totally reciprocated and you’re happy I’m finally making a move.”

You quirk your brow at him, a challenging gaze in your eyes.

“I’d hardly call stating our blatant feelings making a move, Steve,” you swipe your tongue over your lip and watch his eyes follow it.

He tuts, “Right, so what do you consider making a move?”

His hands were still on your face and his head had dipped even closer now, wetting his own lips with his tongue as he waited for your reply.

“You could start by begging for that kiss.”

“Like I’d have to beg,” he scoffs, “Besides, you saying that is basically you begging me.”

You roll your eyes, pulling back from his grip, but the smile never leaves your face, “You’re impossible.”

Steve is quick to pull you straight back in again, “Oh no you don’t.”

His lips are on yours then, hot and feverish and desperate and you lean into his touch without a single second thought.

For just a second he pulls back, reaching to grab you by the waist and hoist you over the counter. You let out a little yelp, but the giggle that follows is music to his ears.

Once you’re settled on the counter, your legs now curled around his waist, he wastes no time reattaching your lips.

“I’ve waited so long for this,” he mumbles, and his earnest tone swells your heart, “It’s even better than I could’ve imagined.”

You draw your head back to look at him, your cherry lip balm on his swollen lips and his eyes twinkling back at you.

You can tell that he’s serious.

He’s watching you carefully, as though waiting for you to confirm that you really do feel the same as he does.

You grin, “Me too.”

His smile widens more than you think you’ve ever seen it widen, and you can’t help but place a small peck on the corner of his lips at the sight of it.

“As nice as it is to, uh, finally have you like this,” Steve smirks slightly as he references the way you’re practically straddling him and your arms are latched onto him, “Maybe the counter of your workplace isn’t the best place for it.”

You laugh, “Such a gentleman.”

You hop down from the counter, the friction of your body against his only brief before you gently nudge him backwards.

“Y’gonna take me on a date then, pretty boy?”

For a second his face had faltered, his focus on the way you’d practically been pressed up against him just seconds ago.

He drew in a breath and recomposed himself, “If you insist, pretty girl.”

Rolling your eyes yet again, you place your palms on his chest and tiptoe to kiss his cheek, “Well you go figure out where you’re going to take me and gimme a call when I get home tonight, yeah? I’ve got a delivery to sort out this afternoon but I’m all yours then.”

“All mine, I like the sound of that.”

“Course you do, Romeo.”

———

thanks so much for reading !!! i hope you liked this. i lost my way a bit and once again am not super happy with it but pls let me know what you thought!!! <3

also i love writing bookstore!reader and steve so PLEASE send more ideas u have for them (i already have lots lol) bc i’d love to keep writing them now it’s established

[iwritefandomimagines]

GIRL I just read ur Matt Pearson imagine it was so CUTEE 💗 if u could write more pls that'd b awesome

ahhh i’m so glad you enjoyed, it was so self indulgent i wasn’t sure if people would like it — thank you soooo much! definitely got more in the works 🫶🫶🫶

[iwritefandomimagines]

SOULMATES — STEVE HARRINGTON

masterlist

pairing: steve harrington x reader, platonic!eddie x reader

descriptions: for someone who so totally isn’t crushing on his best friend, steve harrington is not a fan of her close friendship with eddie fucking munson.

tags/warnings: jealous!steve, swearing, eddie is flirty but ur friendship is platonic, reader uses she/her pronouns, steve is pathetic and silly and overreacts because he’s so down bad

author’s note: ok so i may or may not have essentially dreamt this scenario & woken up half remembering it but determined to put it down for u all … please enjoy and pleaaaaase let me know what you think!!!

———

Steve isn’t sure you’ve ever bounded into Family Video quite so enthusiastically. Nor has he ever seen you move quite so quickly.

Your hair is frazzled, your eyes blown wide, and your whole body lit up with energy as you skip to the counter and lean your elbows on it.

“Hey Stevie,” you hum, “Figured I’d come say hi on my break to tell you this crazy story about last night.”

You worked just down the road from Family Video, in a small diner that required you to wear a traditional (and yet crazily short) waitress’ uniform that showed off your legs frustratingly well.

Not that he was ever looking.

You often found yourself spending lunch breaks loitering around Steve when you were on shift at similar times, and he’d return the favour shortly after when he took his break.

It was a routine that you both loved, but one that had fallen away a little recently as you’d been moving around your shifts more and taking on fewer of them while you studied part-time.

It wasn’t like you didn’t still spend a ridiculous amount of time together, though — Steve’s was like a second home to you, and yours to him, and any day you didn’t see eachother would at least end with an hour long phone call full of gossip and mindless chattering.

Not last night, though. He’d called, but with no answer.

He’d even considered driving by your place just to see if you were home — but he decided against it. That would be way too intense.

Steve nods, his brow quirking up curiously as he waits for you to elaborate.

You’re obviously free to do whatever you like, whenever you like, and with whoever you like… But he’ll be damned if he’s not intrigued to know where you were last night.

“So I’m at Eddie’s, right?” you begin, and you watch as his eyes widen and his jaw clenches.

He scoffs, “You were at Eddie’s?”

You nod, furrowing your brows at his reaction, “Yeah, we all went back after the gig?”

“After the gig?”

“Yeah, dummy, after the Corroded Coffin gig,” your chin is resting on one palm, and the other waves at him as if his cluelessness is ridiculous, “I told you I was going to their show last night. Remember?”

He doesn’t remember, but he’s sure he recalls you telling him off for falling asleep intermittently on the phone a few nights ago and giving you mumbled answers.

“No, I don’t remember,” he shakes his head, expression still tense, “And I think I’d remember you telling me you’d be with Eddie.”

Your hands are on your hips now, irritation evident on your face, “Okay, what the hell is your problem and why do you keep saying Eddie’s name like that? I totally did tell you, you just obviously weren’t listening.”

Steve takes in a sharp breath, watching the frustration in your features as he conjures up his excuse.

“I didn’t know you were close enough to be hanging round at his trailer,” he huffs.

He shouldn’t be annoyed by that fact, and he hates that the feeling in his stomach at the thought of you in the confined space of Eddie’s trailer can definitely be read loud and clear as jealousy even by himself.

He knew you were friends with Eddie and that you had plenty in common — he’d noticed as much every time the curly-haired boy loitered around you when the whole gang hung out — but not that you were that close.

You roll your eyes, unimpressed, “What, like I wasn’t hanging out in your room like a week after we met? Alone, for that matter!”

He remembers that time well.

When you’d first met, he was enamoured with you, and he loved that you’d clicked so quickly and dragged him straight out of the hole of wallowing he’d found himself in post-Nancy.

He’d told himself the crush he harboured when you first got close was just situational and that it had long gone, but he knew that wasn’t the case really.

He was just grateful to have such a good friend and so he’d shoved those feelings where they couldn’t resurface — until today, apparently.

“Well he’s obviously got a thing for you, inviting you back to his trailer after his gig, acting like the big rockstar after a show to, like, six people,” he pouts, and as he says the words he feels increasingly pathetic for how he’s acting, but he can’t help it, “Did you stay the night?”

It’s your turn to scoff now, and you fold your arms over your chest as you see his eyes grow shy while he awaits your answer.

You shake your head, “You’re ridiculous. I didn’t go to his trailer alone, he does not have a thing for me, and he dropped me home right when everyone else left, smartass.”

“So you’re not screwing Munson?”

“You know what, I’ll tell you my story when you’ve got your head out of your ass,” you huff, turning on your heel to leave the store, “My break’s basically over, anyway.”

He’s an idiot. And he knows he’s an idiot.

But the niggling fear that something’s going on between you and Eddie has unsettled his stomach and he does not like that one bit.

—

The hour that follows before Steve has his own lunch break passes agonisingly slowly.

He’s tapping his fingers on the counter, a pen between his teeth as he pretends to read today’s returns list with at least some semblance of interest.

His mind, though, is on you and on the fact he knows you’re pissed off with him for overreacting about your friendship with Eddie and he doesn’t know how he’ll explain it when he grovels for your forgiveness.

As the door dings open and Robin walks in to start her shift, he finally lets out an apprehensive sigh of relief.

“Hey dingus. Why do you look like you’re gonna crap your pants right now?” she asks, eyes glinting with humour as she furrows her brow.

Steve shakes his head, “I need to speak to Y/N about something. It’s important.”

At that, the humour in her eyes meets her smile and she lets out a small laugh, “Uh oh, lovers quarrel?”

“Something like that,” Steve mumbles, “Not that we’re lovers she’s just— She’s spending a lot of time with Eddie. It’s weird. We clashed a bit about it.”

Robin saunters round to join him on his side of the counter, dramatically removing her coat as she nudges his side.

Steve is eternally grateful for Robin’s friendship and the fact that, despite her teasing, she’s always a listening ear when he needs her.

She’s more than aware of how he feels—felt, he’d usually insist— about you, and she’s been trying to get you to admit that you feel the same too, just with little success.

“Dude, there’s nothing going on between her and Eddie Munson,” she scoffs as though it’s the most obvious fact in the world, “She worships the ground you walk on. You’re literally, like, soulmates.”

Steve pouts, “Platonic soulmates, maybe.”

He’d heard you say those words to the kids once when Dustin had called you soulmates and you’d gotten flustered.

“Platonic soulmates, sure. He’s my favourite person and I love him. But as a friend, Dusty.”

Yes, it was just an awkward reaction to the teens prying, but it was like a bullet to the chest to hear for him.

“Not even gonna ask where you learned that term,” Robin dismisses, waving her hands wildly in gesticulation as she speaks, “But you’re totally wrong. Look, buzz off for your lunch and go see her. And apologise for whatever you’ve said to her that’s got you moping around like a kicked puppy.”

Steve draws in a deep breath and bites his lip, nodding as he leaps over the counter and shakes off his nerves.

It’s a humid day, and he can’t tell if the sweat beading on his forehead on his short walk to your workplace is because of that or the sheer panic induced by his amalgam of current fears.

Was he going to have to come clean that he was jealous? Would you see right through him if he didn’t?

The ding of the bell to the diner doesn’t spark your immediate attention as it usually does, and at this Steve finds himself frowning.

The frown only deepens when he sees exactly why.

You’re leaning over the table into a booth on the far side of the diner, face lit up with a beaming smile and the sound of your laughter echoing in Steve’s ears.

But it’s the mop of curly brown hair opposite you that twists the knife that feels like it’s lodged in Steve’s chest.

So much for there being nothing going on.

He catches himself thinking this, trying to rationalise Eddie’s presence with the fact he’s not alone in the booth, but he can’t help the unease that has overcome him.

“Oh hey Steve!” your manager Mary grins, “She’s been in a right grump since she came back from her lunch break, hopefully you can cheer her up. I’ll get your usual ready for you now.”

Mary adores Steve, and you’ve always teased him about it — the way she dotes on him is so adorable and if you were totally honest you mostly just enjoyed how the mention of this made him blush.

“Oh it’s okay, thanks Mary,” he sends her a small smile to reassure her as her face drops, “Just a quick visit this lunch, mom’s leftovers for lunch for me today!”

That was an obvious lie that his rumbling stomach cursed him for.

His parents were never home, let alone the kind of parents to cook big family meals and send him away with leftovers.

She nods, “Okay sweetheart, you go say hi. That Eddie boy seems to be helping with whatever got her so down, but I know you put the biggest smile on her face.”

“Thanks, Mary. I’ll try.”

He can’t ignore the pang in his chest at the fact it was him that was the cause of your bad mood, nor the fact that Eddie of all people was the one here cheering you up.

Almost on cue, you turn around just as he starts making his way towards you, and he frowns as your expression sours.

“Can we talk?”

“I’m a bit busy right now,” you shrug, “Serving customers.”

You soften a little at the sadness in his eyes and as much as you’d like to stay strong and stoic to wait for him to grovel, you heave in a deep sigh, “Go grab a table and I’ll come over once I’ve cleared up Ed’s table.”

Ed.

He makes eye contact with Eddie now, who flings him a smirk and a wave and leans towards you, “What’ve I told’ya about calling me Ed, sweetheart?”

You roll your eyes, and when you turn back to Steve he’s already stalking over to another booth with his arms crossed and his feet practically stomping.

Sweetheart put a bad taste in his mouth and he didn’t want to stick around for more flirting.

You shoot Eddie a glare and watch the smirk on his face grow, “Told’ya he was jealous. God, he looked about ready to hit me.”

You shake your head, blushing crimson, “He is not jealous he just doesn’t like you very much.”

“Yeah, ‘cause he’s jealous,” he shrugs smugly, “You need to just tell him you like him before either his head explodes from that jealousy or I’m found dead as a result of it.”

Gareth pipes up beside him now, “He’s right. I don’t even know him and I can tell he’s literally head over heels for you. And apparently he has been forever.”

You ponder their words hopefully — maybe they’re at least partially right.

It would certainly explain why he was so concerned by you spending so much time with Eddie and in particular with the potential of that time being spent alone.

“You pair are a pain in my ass,” you huff, hands on hips.

Eddie pokes out his tongue, “Say that again when you’ve told him how you feel and he confirms that we’re right.”

With another roll of your eyes, you’ve turned on your heel and are headed straight over to your best friend’s table.

He doesn’t look up.

“Does Ed over there mind you ditching him to talk to me?” Steve is pouting and you’d find it adorable if it wasn’t so frustrating.

You laugh, “Eddie doesn’t care, in fact he encouraged it. Did you mind me being over there?”

He sighs, eyes flickering over to where Eddie and Gareth were watching the conversation intently.

He doesn’t answer and you find yourself slipping into the booth opposite him and reaching out to place your hand atop his — which is currently fiddling with a napkin.

“They’re certain you’re jealous,” you hum, your gaze challenging him as he finally meets it, “That you’ve convinced yourself I’m into Eddie because you’re into me and scared I like him better.”

Again at first he’s silent, unsure of where this conversation is going and how honest to be.

“And… Uh…are you? Do you like him better?”

“Are you seriously asking that question?”

“Well I don’t know, he called you sweetheart and you didn’t look happy to see me and—,”

You scoff, “I was upset at you for being so weird earlier. You’re my favourite person in the world, Stevie. I’m always happy to see you. Of course I don’t like him better.”

He can’t decide whether to take this as a signifier that hope for reciprocation of his feelings isn’t misplaced, but he takes the plunge and flips his hand over to intertwine his fingers with yours.

“You’re my favourite person too. Fine… Maybe I was jealous,” he runs his free hand through his hair as he gazes into your eyes and tries to read your response, “Maybe I’ve been trying to pretend I haven’t been crushing on you since, like, literally the day I met you because I didn’t want to screw up our friendship. And everyone’s into you—look at you! I just—,”

The smile that lights up your face is so bright and so beautiful that he wishes he had a camera on hand to snap it and retain the image forever.

“You never thought that maybe I’ve been feeling the same way and it might be worth the risk?” you raise your brows, “We’ve just been total fuckin’ idiots this whole time, huh?”

Steve laughs now too, all of his nerves washing away as you grip his hand even tighter.

Melodious laughter radiates from the two of you as you drink in the moment, and you know Eddie will be teasing you about the cliche moment later, but you never want to let go of Steve’s hand.

“I can’t believe it’s taken you being jealous of Eddie Munson for this. He’s known how I feel about you for ages, by the way, he just likes getting a rise out of you,” you shake your head, stifling laughter with the back of your other hand, “Plus he is so not my type!”

“He’s not, huh,” cocky, jokey Steve is back now as he pulls your intertwined hands up under his chin, “What is, then?”

You pretend to be deep in thought for a moment, “Hm. Massive dorks with disturbingly good hair, pretty brown eyes, a jealous streak and a concerningly bad sense of humour.”

His mouth forms an ‘O’ as he feigns offence for a moment, before he presses a kiss to the back of your hand and leans forward a little.

The kiss leaves a tingle on your hand when his lips pull away and you’re sure you’re going to ascend to heaven at any given moment.

He’s watching you so tenderly, his soft hand still tight in yours, and you just want to bottle up this time forever.

“Checks out,” he smirks, “But I do not have a bad sense of humour. Unless you count me pretending that your jokes are ever funny.”

“Thin ice, Mr Romantic,” you pout, “You’re supposed to be sweeping me off my feet right now, remember?”

He leans up so that your noses are touching, “Yeah, yeah. Well I’ve been waiting all the time I’ve known you to kiss you, so how about we start there?”

“Perfect.”

The kiss is every bit as tender as his lingering touch, lips plush and minty and ever so eager despite the gentle kiss.

You don’t dare intensify it, however much you want to, knowing that all eyes are on you.

You pull back, both of your eyes wide and your breathing ragged, and he licks his lips, “Oh I could get used to that.”

You’re interrupted by a cough.

“As pleased as I am to see you lovebirds finally getting some sense,” Mary tuts, a smirk on her lips as she taps her toes, “Perhaps save that for when Y/N isn’t supposed to be serving customers, hm?”

“Sorry ma’am,” Steve looks down sheepishly, and you want to kiss the adorable expression off his face immediately.

You place your palms on the table and scoot yourself up and out of the booth, but not before pressing one last quick kiss to his lips.

“I’ll come to Family Video when I finish at 4,” you sing-song, “We can pick up where we left off, yeah? Talk a little, kiss some more… Whatever you want.”

“Sounds perfect. You can finally tell me your story later too, yeah?”

Your eyes twinkle and you let out a belly laugh at the reminder of the stupid tale that had set all this in motion, “Yeah, maybe. I’m sure I’ll be distracted though.”

That sets his whole body alight even though he knows you’re not insinuating anything like that, and he briefly ducks his head to hide his flushed cheeks.

“Mhm, yeah, maybe.”

You twirl away with a spring in your step and a knowing smirk on your painted lips, your heart hammering against your ribcage.

After a slice of pie (on Mary’s insistence), Steve goes back to Family Video a very happy man.

And now he can’t wait for 4PM to roll round to make up for all of the time he’s spent pining.

———

eeee i hope you enjoyed this !!! it’s not perfect but please let me know what you think because it was so fun to write anyway. i love jealous silly steve ! feel free to request some steve/eddie/jonathan fics btw <3

[iwritefandomimagines]

DO NOT TOUCH— NURSE MATT PEARSON

masterlist pinned to profile! (link broken rn)

pairing: matt pearson x nurse!reader

description: when matt contracts the plague, of all things, you’re quick to offer to care for him. and maybe end up making your feelings for him obvious.

tags/warnings: soft fluffiness and awkward cuteness ! friends to lovers, plague mention obviously, nothing else I can think of

author’s note: listen if i have to be the first to write a matt pearson x reader, then i absolutely will and i absolutely have !!! i hope you enjoy, sorry if it’s a lil ooc and not amazing i just had the idea and ran with it. PLEASE let me know what you think (and if you haven’t watched st denis medical yet … DOOOO IT)

———

“Just the plague, no biggie.”

You round the corner at the sound of these words, eyes blowing wide at the sight of Matt Pearson — fellow nurse and object of your affection for as long as you can remember — all patched up.

You’d just come over specifically to check on him after Serena had texted you what happened.

You’d been working on another wing for the day, helping out in an understaffed department that you’d previously worked in and had plenty of experience in.

You were reluctant to be away from your favourite team of nurses, but duty called — and of course you missed an eventful day.

What you hadn’t expected was to find that Matt had contracted the bubonic plague from a loose cat in the hospital and that you’d end up rushing to find him at the end of your shift.

“I’m away for one day shift and you manage to get the plague, Matty,” you tut, your gaze soft as you take a small step towards him, “Are you okay? How’re you feeling? You should be lying down!”

His heart warms at your concern, but he fiddles with the chain around his neck and sends a reassuring smile your way, “Oh I’m fine. Like I said, it’s just the plague. I’ll be—I’ll be alright. It’s totally treatable these days, y’know.”

You shake your head at his stubbornness, reaching out to touch him until his hands fly up to warn you away, “I’m kinda labelled ‘Plague patient, do not touch’ right now. Not that I wouldn’t really like you to touch me— oh not like that. Uh—,”

You can’t help but chuckle at his awkward rambling, no stranger to his tendency to get flustered by you.

You couldn’t really mock, given that you too often got flushed when he made little jokes or got closer to you than usual.

“I know, it’s okay,” you cooed, “But I’ll ignore that if you’re not going to take care of yourself. Plus, I’ve got gloves. Never mind that though, are you feeling okay? What symptoms have you got?”

He sighs softly, shaking his head, “I am taking care of myself— I might not even have the plague, it’s just—well, likely. And I’m fine! I feel fine! Good, now, actually.”

Behind you, Serena scoffs and folds her arms over her chest, “I wonder why.”

You turn to give her a pointed look and she raises her hands in surrender, as Ron just shrugs in agreement with her and Matt’s face turns cherry red.

“What, I’m happy to see my frieeend,” the way he overemphasises and elongates the word friend makes Ron and Serena unable to contain their laughter, and he huffs, falling silent again.

You shoo the other two away, mumbling that you should give him a check over — naturally receiving chuckled out responses of “oh I bet he’d like that” and other similar jokes.

Rolling your eyes, you snap your gloves on and smooth down your apron, “I was so worried when I got here and they told me what happened. You did a good job, even if you have ended up a plague patient.”

The praise makes him feel all gooey inside, and the look on his face as he receives it makes you feel all gooey inside too.

He shrugs, “Yeah, things don’t run so smoothly round here without you.”

The sweet comment makes your heart swell, and you notice he’s toying with his necklace again — and despite having never seen him wear one before, you take it as a tell of his nervousness.

You reach down to touch it, barely thinking about the action, and you feel his body tense at your touch as his hand falls away.

“I like this,” you hum, “It looks hot. Y’know, amongst all of your battle scars.”

Okay, you’d heard the others teasing him about it while you were walking over and wanted to make him feel better, but it still wasn’t a lie.

You did think it looked hot. Not that you ever thought he didn’t.

It’s a little harmless flirtation, but somehow his blush deepens even further and his hand flies back up to cover yours now in instant reaction.

“Oh, uh, thanks, it’s new,” he gulps, pretty brown eyes fluttering up at you as you bite your lip.

You let out a small giggle, “I figured, Matty. Think I’d have noticed it before. But yeah, I like it. It suits you.”

He’s quiet for a moment, mumbling a thank you and then leaning back in his chair a bit, “I promise I’m fine, you don’t need to worry about me. I’ll be going home with some antibiotics in like, 15 minutes.”

“Well I’ll come with you,” you say, as though that’s the most normal and logical thing to do, “I can take you home and I’ll make you some dinner or something. Just to make sure you rest up properly.”

He’s taken aback by the suggestion and you can tell, but his grin becomes wider than you think you’ve ever seen it, “You’d do that, for me?”

“Matty, I’d do anything for you,” it’s supposed to come out a little jokey, but you realise you sound deadly serious — because you really are, “No—I’ve just finished my shift so I may as well make sure you get home okay.”

He nods, the corner of his mouth quirked up because he can tell that you mean it and he’s trying insanely hard to quell his excitement.

“That’s so nice of you. I know you’d do it for anyone but I really appreciate it.”

You scoff, “You think I’d give up my evening of binging old New Girl episodes for just anyone?”

His face lights up, his hand still lingering on yours atop his collarbone until you both pull back and you stand back up straight.

His chest almost puffs out in pride at the notion you care enough about him — specifically him — that you want to take care of him when you don’t have any obligation to.

“You can—well we can watch New Girl together if you like?” he offers, “I’ve never, uh, seen it. But I might like it. Or it doesn’t matter as long as you do.”

You place a hand on your hip, about to scold him for having never watched New Girl, until you remember that this is Matt Pearson you’re talking to and he knows and has seen approximately two shows in time you’ve known him.

“Oh Matty, you’re about to have your life changed and your plague cured by the greatest sitcom of all time.”

When Matt is finally given clearance to leave, you’re immediately ushering him to your car, eyeing him through the rear view mirror as he silently gazes out the window like he can’t believe this is happening.

Well, probably because he can’t.

You stop off at the store for sick-day essentials, insisting that he neither comes with you nor gives you cash to pay for the groceries, and you return with a bag full of goodies and a warmth in your chest as Matt looks unsure what to do with himself in the wake of your kindness.

With his directions, you make it to his flat in little time and are quick to fuss about him getting in and comfortable and out of his scrubs.

“You really didn’t have to do this,” he sighs softly as he returns to the lounge in sweatpants and a plain black tee, “I could’ve managed but I’m really grateful you’re here.”

He hands you a bundle of clothes that you identify as another pair of sweatpants and a graphic tee with a cow on it, and you accept graciously as he suddenly looks stressed by his decision to give you them.

“Sorry I just thought that if, uh, you’re staying for a bit you might want something comfy.”

You beam reassuringly at him, “Matty it’s okay, I get it. Thank you, I’ll just go and changed and then I’ll get the soup on, yeah?”

He nods, and so you return a short while later in his sweats and carrying two bowls of freshly made soup and bread.

“You’re the best, Y/N,” his voice wavers a little bit, overwhelmed by you being here in his home and his clothes and, really, if he was totally honest, in his life, “I’m just—Just really grateful to have you. Lucky, even.”

You shake your head, “Matty, even if I’d not worked at all today I’d have come over to do this. I care about you… A lot.”

His brows raise inquisitively, hope glimmering in his features.

“I care about you too, and I’d have done the same for you… Though you’d never be stupid enough to get the plague at work,” he looks down, embarrassed.

You shake your head again, “You’re not stupid, accidents happen. Let’s get cosy, eat our food and watch some TV, shall we?”

He notes the way his sweatpants hang on your hips as you sway to his side and hand him a tray, and he finds himself gulping and nodding profusely.

You notice, and you think he notices that you notice, because at the sight of the subtle smirk on your face he looks down at his food and bites his lip.

You’re silent for the duration of the consumption of your food, save for a few mumbles of how delicious it was, and then New Girl is fired up on your Netflix account after ten minutes fumbling to log in and you’re both tucked up under blankets and locked in on Season 1 Episode 1 as you insist he needs to see it from the start.

Matt is inquisitive the entire time, and you get immense joy from introducing him to the characters and the plot and answer every question earnestly.

You lose track of time watching together, the comfortable ease of being curled up on his couch making you never want this evening to end.

But alas, it’s dark now and as another episode finishes you figure you should probably get out of his hair.

“You look tired, do you want me to turn this off and head off to let you get some sleep?” you ask reluctantly, watching his pretty eyes blink away sleep, “I can come check on you tomorrow, since I’m off.”

He shakes his head too rapidly at first, taking in a sharp breath as he tries not to look so upset at the notion.

He too doesn’t want this time and this closeness to end, and the thought of the absence of your warmth at his side makes him feel more ill than any stupid plague.

“No, no, one more episode please?” he pleads, and you’re not unaware of the way he tugs you a little closer to him with the blanket as he speaks.

You grin, “I’ve made a New Girl fan of you, huh?”

He doesn’t reply immediately, his features twisting into an expression you read as him being anxious. You saw it often enough at work.

“Can I, uh, be honest?”

“Always, Matty.”

“I just—I just like you being here. In my house and on my sofa and,” —gulp—, “In my clothes and, I don’t know… I just like spending time with you.”

Oh my god, you are certain that your heart might explode out of your ribcage at those words.

“You—uh—I,” you’re the one stuttering now, so you clear your throat before continuing, “I love spending time with you too… In your house, and clothes, and— Matty why do you think I ran from my station to see you?”

His eyes are twinkling and his hands are fumbling again with the chain dangling around his neck.

He’s silent as he takes everything that you have just said in, gazing so intently into your eyes that you wish you could bottle up this moment forever.

“Stay?”

“Tonight?”

“In an ideal world, forever,” Matt’s eyes blow wide at his own words, panicking at the intensity of what he’s just said, “No—uh—that’s a joke—yeah, tonight. If you want. I have a spare room.”

You’re smiling so sweetly at him that all panic dissipates immediately though.

You nod, “I’d like that. I can take better care of my plague patient if I’m just next door. As long as I’m not imposing.”

Matt shakes his head vigorously, “Never. If anything I feel like I’m holding you hostage.”

You laugh, rolling your eyes as he leans a little further forward.

You can’t help but watch the way his teeth pull his bottom lip between them, or his eyes twinkle across at you, and you can’t help but want to kiss him.

That thought is no surprise, given that you have it often.

“Never,” your voice is soft, and as his eyes flutter to your lips you wonder if the same thought crosses his mind, and you’re sure it does.

And then you’re reminded that he’s managed to contract the bubonic plague and you probably should keep a little more distance from him.

You stay still for a moment just watching each other, entirely unsure of what next move to make.

It’s you that breaks the silence when he yawns, “We should probably head to bed.”

He nods, disappointed but knowing you’re probably right.

He just doesn’t want his time with you this evening to end, because he fears it might all be a dream, “Yeah, sure. Sure. Bed.”

You both shuffle out from underneath the blanket, and so begins the quiet retreat towards the kitchen to get ready for bed.

It’s as though you’re both scared to speak, knowing the tension in the room had grown exponentially in the last ten minutes.

The two bedrooms in the flat sat directly opposite each other, and as you both reached to open your respective doors, you seemed to pause at the exact same moment.

“Y/N?”

His voice is quiet, as though he’s not at all sure of the words he plans to say.

“Matty?”

You hear him gulp, and debate turning around to face him as you wait to hear what he has to ask you.

“Did you—did you want to kiss me as much as I wanted to kiss you? Like—just now? Like if I wasn’t all plaguey and gross?”

There it is — the confirmation you needed to set your stomach aflutter with butterflies and your heart racing so fast you fear it can’t be contained in your ribcage.

You exhale, relief washing over you, “I did. Really badly.”

You both do turn around now, smiling cautiously at the weight of what this meant.

“Yay—I mean, good—I mean, uh, that’s good to know,” he looks down for a split second, shy under your gaze, before looking back up to hold it, “And you promise this isn’t the plague getting to my sanity? I’m not going to wake up and realise I imagined this and you actually think I’m insane?”

You chuckle.

“Matty, you’re not imagining anything. And I’ll be here in the morning to remind you that, okay?”

“Okay,” his smile is soft and his voice so shy that your heart swells, “Thank you. Goodnight, Y/N.”

“Good night, Matty. Sweet dreams.”

And knowing you were in such close proximity and with feelings that reciprocated his? Sweet dreams he had, indeed.

———

ok i think i hate this but you know what… it’s my first time writing matt and also i’ve not written much lately so feel a little rusty !!! let me know what you think <3

[iwritefandomimagines]

ST. DENIS MEDICAL MASTERLIST

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

matt pearson

↳ do not touch

↳ obvious

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

MAIN MASTERLIST PINNED

[iwritefandomimagines]

i do not need to write nurse matt fics i do not need to write nurse matt fics i do not need to write nurse matt fics i do not need to write nurse matt fics i do not need to write nurse matt fics i do not need to write nurse matt fics (i want to write a nurse matt fic)

there is no heartbreak quite like there being not a single fic in existence (and very little content generally) about a character you’ve just discovered and want to consume endless content about

[iwritefandomimagines]

there is no heartbreak quite like there being not a single fic in existence (and very little content generally) about a character you’ve just discovered and want to consume endless content about

[iwritefandomimagines]

A GOOD PLACE TO START — STEVE HARRINGTON

masterlist

part one | part two | part three (soon)

[can be read as a standalone]

pairing: scoops!steve harrington x bookstore worker!reader

description: you’d not known steve that well in school, but his reputation preceded him. the sight of him in your book store surprises you, but the conversation that follows you surprises you even more.

tags/warnings: angst if you squint, teasy cute flirtiness and then some real talk, tiny bit of hurt steve, mention of nancy, swearing (ofc it’s me), gender not specified, pg because it only goes as far as a cheek kiss for now lol

author’s note: eeeee i love steve harrington wholeheartedly and i can’t wait to make this a series. i hope you enjoy, im a lil rusty because it’s been a while. fluffy domestic (maybe established relationship, maybe initiation of it?) part two & more ideas in the pipeline… PLEASE let me know what you think and what you wanna see <3

———

The first time Steve set foot in your store was not of his own volition.

As with most things of late, it seemed, it was in fact at the behest of a very anxious Dustin who wanted a copy of some comic or other that had just been released in limited run and happened to be sold exclusively there.

Your eyes had found Steve Harrington the second he entered the store, and had rolled practically to the back of your head a second later as his found you.

That was something that hadn’t changed since high school.

He’d always been loud, always been confident. Always spoken to people without any real implication that he cared who he was speaking to beyond his core friendship group.

He looked momentarily bewildered and you couldn’t help but chuckle at what a sight to behold he was as he ambled in still wearing his Scoops Ahoy uniform.

The store was relatively small — you could never decide whether to blame the lack of enthusiasm for reading in Hawkins or the one rival book store in town and its very attractive owner — and the dim glow of its orange lighting lit him so well you might briefly be able to not perceive him as the devil incarnate.

Right, he might have been a perpetual pain in your ass in high school, but he’d never not been pretty.

And that was still the case even in his stupid work uniform.

“You’re telling me King Steve can read?”

Your lips curled up in a smirk, your arms folding across your chest as his hand fell to his hip with a shake of his head.

“Wow, Y/N,” his eyes widened in feigned surprise, tongue swiping across his lip for a moment, “That’s no way to treat a paying customer.”

Scoffing, your eyes trailed him as he took a final step and leaned forward onto the front counter, “That’s not a yes. What do you want, Harrington?”

His eyes flitted briefly around the store as if looking for something, “The kids want some lousy comic. S’posed to be out this week.”

You chuckled, choosing to ignore the small spread of warmth in your chest at the reminder of how much he cared for that group of kids.

He slid you a piece of paper containing its title, and for a moment you were relieved by the fact that you did in fact have one copy left and this wouldn’t have to turn into an argument.

“Ah, right,” you nodded, “You can’t look for it yourself on account of you not being able to read?”

“Still as funny as you were in school, huh,” his fake chuckle still lit his face up with a pretty smile and you cursed yourself for thinking so, “I can, in fact read. Tell you what, if you gave me your number I could even prove it.”

You weren’t as surprised by his request as you might have been before starting work in this shop — you’d heard many a whisper of Steve’s incessant flirtation with anyone and anything since he’d joined Scoops Ahoy.

You smirked, shaking your head with a laugh as he watched you carefully for your reaction.

“I think even you could manage reading a phone number,” you watched him huff, “And then what, I gotta listen to you yap on about your romantic exploits or something?”

Okay, maybe that was a little harsh.

“Why, would you get jealous, sweetheart?”

It took absolutely everything in you not to react with a squeal — but you were absolutely sure he’d noticed the prickle of a blush on your cheeks as his smirk only broadened.

You couldn’t believe that Steve Harrington was having this kind of effect on you, and you didn’t like that it was clear that he knew it.

You cleared your throat, hands resting on your hips now as you tried desperately to regain your composure.

“It’s no wonder you’re not having much luck with the ladies if you’re using lines like that, Stevie.”

For a moment you think you might have offended him, but he hides this quickly behind his usual lopsided grin, “No denial. But hey, what makes you think I’m so unsuccessful?”

“Have you forgotten that Robin is, like, one of my best friends?” you reminded him matter-of-factly, “Or was I really that much of a fleeting acquaintance to you in school that you don’t remember?”

He detects genuine insult in your tone, and for a second he almost reaches out to touch you when he knits his brows together and shakes his head, “You weren’t a fleeting acquaintance to me, are you kidding?”

For now, he doesn’t care that Robin is spilling gossip about his pitiful love life — he cares that you think he was totally unaware of you in high school.

Sure, you didn’t hang out. You didn’t talk much… Okay, maybe he got why you thought he was oblivious to your existence. But he wasn’t.

He savoured the brief moments he’d hear your laugh, or work on a project with you. He watched from afar as you spent time with your real friends, seemingly so close but so far away.

Tommy had teased him once or twice about his longing stares, but that had just reminded him that you didn’t deserve to be brought into that group — that you deserved better.

So he’d continued to drink in your laughter from afar. Watched you kiss boys at parties from the other side of the room. Heard boys in the locker room gossip about how perfect you were, how pretty, how soft.

When you didn’t reply for a moment, he shook his head again, “You were unattainable, not invisible.”

At that, you snort.

A loud snort that you would almost be embarrassed by if you weren’t too busy trying to piece together what the hell he meant by that.

“Unattainable? Like King Steve was pining over little old me,” you licked your lips as your laughter continued, the intensity of his gaze not convincing you, “If you’d wanted to even be friends with me, you’d have tried. You always did get what you wanted.”

He doesn’t like that — you can see it in the way his eyes fall to his feet and his hands pull away from the counter.

You’ve hurt him, or brought up memories, or both, and he doesn’t know what to do with them for a brief moment.

“Did I? Look at me,” he swallows thickly as the teasing smile drains from your face, “I thought things were good. Then the one thing—person— I thought I got, I thought I really needed, just upped and left me for someone else and I can’t—I dunno... Just—King Steve got sweet nothing, really.”

Your eyes are sad now, and he can feel the pitying words threatening to spill from your pouty pink lips. He doesn’t want your pity and suddenly he regrets opening his mouth.

You sigh, “I’m sorry for saying that when we didn’t really know each other. Everyone’s got their own shit—I just find it hard to believe you ever noticed me more than you’re obligated to as a classmate, y’know?”

He nods, as if choosing his next words carefully, “I know, but I did. It’s just—I was scared and then Nancy happened and then even after that, things got complicated for me,” he looks like he wants to explain, but a frustrated sigh signals his internal debate has stopped him.

“And then I didn’t want to drag you into things so I just stayed away. And then you started here and I saw and Robin said I should either shit or get off the pot but I didn’t want to be weird,” he’s running hands through his hair as he speaks, frantic, “Man, I don’t know. I’m not King Steve anymore. I don’t know how to do these things with people that matter to me.”

You shrug, confused and overwhelmed and unsure if you really want to hear more of his explanation, “Right. Uh—I’m sorry. I—.”

You were utterly blindsided by the notion that he’d spoken to Robin about you, that he’d maybe kind of sort of had some semblance of an interest in you somewhere along the lines of your acquaintance, and for a second the silence between you is tense.

You stare at each other, mouths agape and expressions barely readable to the other for just a pause.

Then Steve looks defeated again, his eyes narrowed and the frown on his face more than evident.

You regret making any stupid comment about his luck with the ladies or your bitterness towards him in high school and now you too feel small and insecure and pathetic.

“Well, I’ll go and grab you that comic, if you’d like?” you offer, your voice almost a whisper as your softened gaze met his, “We’ve got one copy left that’s in the back. Perfect timing.”

He stuffs his hands in his pockets, taken aback by the swiftness of the return to the original subject and he nods, “Oh, sure. Thanks.”

You’re gone longer than you need to be, and for a beat he thinks you might not be coming back — instead leaving him to fester in his own confession until he’s too overwhelmed to wait any longer.

In truth, you spend five minutes staring blankly at the wall of boxed comics. Your head is a whirlwind and you briefly can’t even remember your name, let alone which issue you’re looking for.

But then you snap back to reality, snag the comic and saunter back to the counter where Steve has now taken off his Scoops hat and laid it on the counter, fiddling incessantly with its details.

“Got it,” you hum, trying your hardest to sweeten the mood and lighten the tension ever so slightly with a beaming smile.

He looks up, a smile finding his face now too, “Amazing, that’ll get Dustin off my ass for at least a week then, thank god.”

You chuckle, and warmth spreads through him again at the sight as he takes the comic from your hand and pulls cash out of his pockets to pay for it.

“I’m glad,” you hum, taking the cash and working with the dodgy old cash register to put it away before pulling a notepad from below the counter and clicking open a pen, “Two seconds.”

He’s got that bewildered expression on his face again as you briefly glance up at him, and your heart swells as he pulls his lip between his teeth.

That one strand of hair has fallen in front of his face again, and now you’re swooning and flustered and you once again can’t believe that you’re feeling this intensely towards Steve Harrington when you’d barely known him in school, barely seen him since, and now— here you were.

“My number,” you tear out the sheet you’ve just written on and slide it towards him, “You know, ‘cause if you’re going to need to come back in here again— for, for Dustin— you might want to practice your reading. My number is a good place to start.”

You’re pretty sure your heart stops at the sizeable grin that overtakes his face at these words, tongue swiping over his lips and his hands snatching the paper up immediately.

“Right, I’ll definitely be back. For Dustin. Makes sense,” you can hear the pride in his voice at the unexpected acquisition of your number. You, of all people, gave him your number(!), “Thanks, Y/N.”

You grin, tiptoeing up to kiss his cheek before your brain has a chance to determine whether this is a good idea.

It’s Steve that blushes crimson now, accidentally leaning in to the brief moment of your lips on his cheek so that you linger momentarily.

You can feel the warmth of the blush that has reached his cheeks, and it takes everything in you not to emit a delighted hum and ask him when you’ll see him next.

You’re already getting in over your head despite this one interaction with him, and you remind yourself you should probably slow down.

He clears his throat, trying to pretend he wasn’t wholly affected by the kiss too, “You give all your customers a kiss on the cheek when they leave?”

You scoff, rolling your eyes at him and nudging his arm.

You debate telling him to fuck off, but figure that the dynamic between you has changed enough and you’ve just given him your number, for god’s sake, so you can flirt a little.

God knows you’ve waited long enough now that you think about it, and apparently so has he.

“Only the pretty ones,” you sing-song, holding eye contact as he gulps and watches you carefully.

“Noted,” he beams, leaning up to tuck a hair behind your ear and kiss your temple.

You chuckle, “And do you always kiss retail workers when you’re leaving their store too, then?”

“Only the pretty ones.”

God, you’re sure your palms are sweating and your knees are weak and your heart will burst out of your chest at any damn second.

How’re you managing to flirt with him so seamlessly now when you feel so crazily overwhelmed by whatever the fuck is going on?

“Noted. I’ll see you soon, yeah?” you offer him a sugary sweet smile as you grab a stack of books to start sorting, “You’re welcome in whenever. Even if it’s, uh, not for Dustin.”

“Good to know I’m welcome in public places after all,” he chuckles, the teasing grin he’d started this encounter with back to its full glory, “But better to know you want me here. Catch you later, Y/N.”

And with that, he’s turned on his heel and leaving the store — leaving your heart racing wildly and your mind wondering desperately when later might be.

His heart is beating rapidly too, the comic between his fingers gripped so tightly his knuckles are turning white.

He takes one last glance back at you and the way his stomach seems to swarm with butterflies at the small wave you send his way, he is certain of one thing.

He’ll be back very soon.

———

saw djo twice. rewatched stranger things. now here i am pining over steve again — this is a part one, probably to become an ongoing series ! pt 2 coming soon of domestic fluffiness, maybe a jealous!steve part soon too because y’all know i love writing jealousy fics …

ANYWAY please let me know what you think or request more stranger things fics or let me know what other things you’d like to see from scoops!steve x bookstore!reader <3

[iwritefandomimagines]

“Writers shouldn’t write for interaction”, “Likes are good enough”, “you should write for yourself not others, engagement shouldn’t be necessary.”

HAVE YOU THOUGHT THAT MAYBE I NEED ENCOURAGEMENT?!?

THAT MAYBE I NEED POSITIVE ENGAGEMENT/FEEDBACK TO STAY MOTIVATED TO STAY ON TOP OF WRITING?! BECAUSE OTHERWISE I CONVINCE MYSELF THAT MY WRITING IS ASS.

Anyways, this is your sign to comment/reblog a fic or blurb of your favourite writers on this app and just show their work a little bit of love.

It goes a longgggg way, I promise <3333

[iwritefandomimagines]

sooooo i finally did something about it https://www.tumblr.com/iwritefandomimagines/784367222483222528/silver-hair-and-melodrama-spike-btvs

all i can think about rn is the idea of spike and reader in a modern au where you’re playing BG3 and obsessed with astarion and spike is all pissy and jealous watching you fawn over this platinum blonde vampire with an english accent and he’s like “i don’t even know what you see in him…” and you’re just like … babe are u fr?????? while he’s all huffy and pouty and pretending he’s not intently watching you play despite constantly chiming in to whine and criticise astarion !!!!!!!!

[iwritefandomimagines]

SILVER HAIR AND MELODRAMA — SPIKE (BTVS)

masterlist

pairing: spike (btvs) x reader [modern au]

description: spike begins to regret buying the games console currently residing in your room when you develop a slight obsession with baldur’s gate 3 and one character in particular. now, he’s finding himself jealous of a pixelated blonde british vampire.

warnings: this is a bit silly but i couldn’t get the idea out of my head lol, bit of swearing, bg3 spoilers maybe for astarion, suggestive themes at the end, it’s also pretty short n sweet

author’s note: I’M BACK BABY! was plagued with this idea so had to write it. please let me know what you think and if you want more spike fics (or some astarion hehe). not sure how i feel about this bc it’s been unfinished for so long but hopefully you like it!!!

———

“Oh bloody hell, again?”

You turned to peer at your boyfriend who had just climbed into your window, watching him lean against the sill with a pout on his face.

You paused briefly to shoot him a smile, before turning back to pause the game and engage in full conversation with him.

“Listen babe, you bought me the Xbox,” you hummed teasingly, “You basically encouraged this. And you got back just in time for the next Astarion romance scene!”

He scoffed, “Oh gee golly, lucky me.”

You laughed, shaking your head with a roll of your eyes, “C’mon sourpuss, come sit down.”

Reluctantly, he made his way over the couch and sat himself down beside you, momentarily softening as you leaned into him before huffing again when you resumed play.

“Can barely remember the time when I used to climb in through your bedroom window and be met with kisses ‘n’ love,” he tutted, “Now I’m competing for your attention with a bloody cluster of pixels on a screen.”

“Hey, no competition,” you shook your head, pressing a kiss to his temple before sticking out your tongue teasingly, “Not much, anyway.”

He scoffed, “What d’you even see in the bloke? He’s all silver hair and melodrama.”

It was your turn to scoff now, looking across at him with eyes that practically screamed ‘are you kidding?’ as he rolled his.

“My hair is blonde,” he folded his arms over with a grunt, “And I am so not melodramatic.”

You reached out to rub his forearm, “And yet here you are in a strop because I fancy a cluster of pixels on a screen.”

In that moment, your screen showed a small exclamation mark atop Astarion’s head at camp.

You giggled as you folded your legs so they were crossed and sat up straight to start the dialogue with your favourite character.

“Bloody shameless,” Spike narrowed his eyes, “Gettin’ all hot for him when I’m right here!”

Nudging him slightly, you let out a small laugh, “I am not getting hot for him! I’m just enjoying my game and happen to have a type.”

“Oi!”

Throughout the game conversation, and the romantic cutscene that followed, Spike spent the whole time continuing to grumble and making fun of things Astarion would say.

“Who’s this evil fella he’s whining about,” he gestured towards the screen after Astarion mentioned his desire to defeat his master Cazador, “and why don’t you fancy him instead if he’s so big and bad?”

“I’m assuming you’re saying that because you still consider yourself a big bad, babe,” you chuckled, “So can I remind you that pre-soul evil you… I was so not interested in.”

He gasped, “Hey! I could still be a big bad if I wanted to. And you so were interested in me. I saw you always giving me googly eyes and all that.”

“Googly eyes?”

“Lookin’ at me all like you wanted to either marry me or rip my clothes off,” he smirked, running his tongue over his teeth, “Not that I’d have minded either way, love.”

You’d paused your game now, eyes fixated on your boyfriend, who was matching your gaze intently.

“Well I’m not blind,” you discarded your controller and crawled into his lap, the game music quietly ongoing in the background as his arms curled around you and he pressed a kiss to your forehead.

“Well you fancy this silly video game bloke so your taste ain’t all that good, love.”

You peered up at him, “He’s a blonde — fine, silver haired—British vampire, with a satisfying redemption arc, a good heart deep down and a pretty face to top all that off.”

Spike seemed thoughtful for a moment, his eyes narrowed as he pulled you tighter to his chest, “He’s not even a proper vampire!”

“For someone who hates him so much, you’ve paid a lot of attention to his storyline, baby,” you teased.

He grunted, “Gotta size up the competition, duh.”

You giggled as you leaned up to nip at his jawline with soft kisses, showering him with the affection his silly jealousy seemed to have left him craving, “Like I said, he’s not real and not competition.”

Spike hummed in appreciation, hand curling tighter around your waist as he tilted his head down to capture your lips with his.

You matched the feverish passion immediately, hands curling around his neck as you shifted to straddle him now.

He pulled back for just a second, pouring like a petulant child, “See, I’m the one you should be gettin’ all flustered for. It’s only me who gets to actually make you feel like this.”

Your cheeks stained crimson at his words, lashes fluttering up at him as his warm breath fanned over your face and his hands moved down to cup your thighs close to him.

“You are, you idiot,” you whispered, kissing the corner of his lips, “It is.”

“Mhm, you can forget about Asterix or whatever his bloody name is,” the skirt you were wearing was completely ridden up now, his hand underneath it and palming the soft flesh of your thigh, “Wastin’ your time playing that game when you’ve got me here to take care of you.”

You laughed, “Need I remind you that I was playing it ‘cause you weren’t here. And it’s Astarion.”

“Ah so you’re replacing me with the pixel bloke, huh,” the teasing in his tone was still tinged with with a little tint of jealousy, “Go do good for five minutes and you need to get your rocks off watching animated you getting it on with an animated vampire.”

You shook your head, “Stop making this weird you jealous idiot,” another chuckle escaped your parted lips as you leaned over to turn the Xbox off.

“Jealous? Pfft.”

“It’s a game,” you hummed against his jawline, now pressing kisses along it again and down the length of his throat, “But this isn’t.”

Your hands brushed down the expanse of Spike’s back, gripping his t-shirt and removing it in one swift motion as he raised his arms and smirked at you.

Returning his hands to your thighs, it was his turn to laugh, “Oh I know that, sweet thing.”

Your lips met again, eyes fluttering shut as he kissed you like he really did need to show you he was better and more important than the silly crush you had on your favourite character.

He scooped you up, carrying you over to your bed quickly and gently placing you down on the bed beneath him, climbing over you immediately.

Your hands flew up to his bare chest, hooking round his neck to pull him back in for a kiss.

He smirked into the kiss, withdrawing his head for just one second as he began to unbutton your blouse, “That’s my girl.”

You loved how possessive Spike could be. How obsessed he was with showing you how he felt about you and just how much he’d do to make it known you were his.

“I love you, Spike,” you smiled, breathlessly mumbling the words as his hands kept you close to him.

“I love you too, sweetheart,” he replied between kisses, pausing for a moment to shake his head as he remembered the previous conversation that had led you here.

“And I still don’t know what you see in him!”

“Would you just shut up and kiss me?”

———

this has been in my drafts unfinished for SOOO long and i’m still not happy with it. but i hope you enjoyed — PLEASE request some more spike fics, i love writing spike so much !!! in the meantime, here is my masterlist <3

[iwritefandomimagines]

sticker design for pride this year! 💞🏳️‍⚧️

[iwritefandomimagines]

we need u to write colin fanfics i BEG of you omg, so little of them but i have so much love for him

eeee my thoughts exactly !!! ur wish is my command — i’ve got a couple of ideas floating around already so will get started <3

[iwritefandomimagines]

brief glimpse of colin ritman in plaything made me expect to come on here to at least a small revival of fics about him but the last was last christmas eve……… maybe my return to writing is on its way

[iwritefandomimagines]