starry-eyed-steve-library

[starry-eyed-steve-library]

This was so sweet and soft, I absolutely loved it. 💗

Everything was perfect. Dottie and Cliff were such cute characters, I would die for them both. 💗

I loved the relationship between Steve and the reader. They were so adorable together. You captured Steve's vibe perfectly. 💗

bad for business

summary: steve’s good for your heart but he’s really bad for business word count: 4.5k a/n: me every time i post after being mia for months: who’s missed me! this was technically supposed to be inspired by bad for business by sabrina carpenter and then suddenly it wasn’t. not even sure there’s much of a plot but alas! also feel a little rusty at this right now, it’s been a while since i’ve really written anything but i’ve missed steve a crazy insane amount. love you, miss you, hope you all enjoy this <3

You’re late. You’re never late. 

The bell above the door to Dottie’s jingles as you hurry inside. Your fingers work on muscle memory to tie your apron around your waist as you slide through the mismatched seating arrangements inside the diner to get to the back office. 

You’re not sure if the way your stomach flips is from it being full of a single gulp of coffee or because it’s more than an hour past when you should’ve been here. The time punch on your card reads 9:07 am and your stomach lurches. Definitely not the coffee. 

It’s a Sunday, arguably your busiest day in the diner and arguably the worst day for you to show up like this. No doubt Dottie has noticed but you’re hoping against hope that she didn’t. God, what are you going to tell her?

Sorry Dottie! My super hot, super charming boyfriend wouldn’t let me out of bed this morning! Won’t happen again! 

Your face feels warm, like you’ve just spent an extensive amount of time in the sun in the middle of July. You knew you shouldn’t have stayed over last night, but you were so tired and Steve’s couch is way more comfier than yours. It really doesn’t help that his bed isn’t any different. 

“Lots of traffic this morning?” you jump, notepad falling out of your hand. Susan starts to snicker as you drop down to pick it up. There’s a smirk on her face when you rise to full height. Her blonde hair is pulled back into a ponytail and her name tag is crooked on her apron. You’re not sure you’d consider Susan one of your closest friends but you find yourselves pulled together considering she’s the only other young person working here. 

“Oh you know…,” your voice rises in pitch and you clear your throat, hitching one shoulder up to your ear in a shrug. “Sometimes you just hit every red.”

Susan’s eyes narrow. There’s only one working light on your usual route to work. Coming from Steve’s adds only two. Not to mention, you didn’t drive yourself today. Steve dropped you off, promising to pick you up at 4 on the dot when your shift ended. Susan pops her gum in her mouth, not convinced with your fib.

“Right.”

“Yeah. Now if you’ll excuse me, Cliff is waiting for me in his usual booth,” you hurry past before she can ask you anything incriminatory. You hear Dottie before you see her, on your way to grab the coffee pot. 

“You feeling okay, sweetie? You’re normally here right on the dot. An hour isn’t like you.”

Dottie’s older than most and she’s been running the diner outside Hawkins for a whopping 30 years now. She hangs out behind the counter and loves to chat with the regulars and get to know those just passing through. With rosy cheeks and gray streaked hair almost always pulled out of her face in a bun, she’s almost like another mom with how long you’ve been working here. 

You snag the excuse she basically throws you out of the air. 

“Had a bit of a rough night, but I’m feeling a lot better now, Dot. Didn’t realize I had overslept until I heard the birds chirping outside. It won’t happen again,” you say. 

You didn’t oversleep actually. Whatever natural circadian clock inside of you wakes you up at almost the same time every workday but Steve can be quite convincing when he wants to be. Your heart does a little sigh of his name. Steve. You swallow and try to blink away the image of him.

Dottie gives you a sympathetic smile with a concerned tilt of the head, taking your flustered mannerisms and the way you wipe your palms against the sides of your jeans as lingering symptoms of whatever she thinks ailed you last night. She squeezes your bicep, the press of her mixed metal rings cool against your skin.

“Take it easy today, okay? You let me know if you need anything.”

“Course, Dottie. Thank you,” you give her a smile and grab the coffee pot. 

Cliff sits at the same spot every morning. A little booth along the window wall, three down from the door to the diner. He looks a bit rough around the edges, his coat well loved and worn and his hands weathered from years of hard work. He’s worn the same baseball cap every time you’ve seen him and he’s always got a copy of the morning paper open and propped in front of his face. 

He spots you out of the corner of his eye and scoots his empty mug closer to the table’s edge. You smile and pour the coffee, leaving enough room for his two packets of Sweet ‘n’ Low to be stirred in. 

“Anything new this morning, Cliff?” 

You’ve only known Cliff on his own, but you know he used to come with his late wife Winnie for coffee every morning before she passed. He’d summarize the big news and events and she’d do the crosswords on the back. Now, you let him summarize to you and he leaves the paper on the table for you. You do the crosswords on your break. 

“Same old, same old. They’re thinking about rebuilding the mall that burned down in Hawkins a few summers ago. You hear anything about that?” He sets the paper down to the right of his coffee mug and grabs two pink packets of sweetener. You watch him tear the paper and pour them in. When he looks at you, you shake your head. 

“First time I’m hearing of it. My boyfriend used to work there before it…you know,” you mention, unable to stop the morsel of information from slipping out. A twinkle sparks in Cliff’s eye, a small smile on his face as he diverts his attention back to his mug. The spoon he’s stirring with clinks against the coffee stained ceramic walls. 

“Are you ever gonna bring this boyfriend of yours around here so I can actually see that he’s real?” He’s teasing, tapping the handle of the spoon against the rim of the mug and setting it in the gap between the coffee and the newspaper. You roll your eyes but a smile lifts your cheeks. 

“I don’t know if that’d be too good for business around here,” you joke. 

“And was he the reason you were late giving me my coffee this morning?” He's quick to cover his smirk with the coffee mug as he takes a sip. Your mouth falls agape and you fluster, shaking your head and laughing shakily. 

“Ha ha, very funny, Cliff. No, he was not. There was traffic!” Cliff makes a face at this and you don’t blame him. Has the traffic excuse ever worked for living in a small town, you wonder. “And I had a rough night and accidentally overslept, is all.”

He grabs his morning paper again and opens it up. “Whatever you say, sweetheart.”

The rest of the morning starts to fly by in a blur. You recite your favorites off the menu to a couple passing through from Chicago. Refill Cliff’s coffee twice, each time dodging whatever he tries to insinuate about your tardiness this morning. Sneak an extra pancake onto little Sofie’s plate with a wink. The early morning breakfast rush blows through and things start to quiet down. 

You’re wiping down the table adjacent to Cliff’s booth. His mug is empty and he’s left the paper for you like usual. The bell rings as he opens the door to leave. 

“See you tomorrow, Cliff!” you call after him and he raises a hand in a wave as he walks through the door, thanking the young man that holds it for him. 

You have to do a double take as you swipe the paper off the table. It’s not just any young man in passing holding the door, no it’s Steve coming inside Dottie’s. It’s Steve standing at the entrance in his usual Levi’s and a white tee with sleeves that seem to strain around his biceps with windswept hair and a bright smile when he sees you. 

There goes your heart again with the sigh of his name. Steve. Though maybe this time you think it was your voice instead, airy and soft. You can’t believe he’s here. It’s nowhere near 4’o’clock. You’re aware of Dottie’s eyes on you behind the counter and Susan’s from across the diner and nearly every regular scattered about as well. 

Your knees wobble at the sight of him, the disbelief fading away and giddy smile falling into place as he meets you next to Cliff’s booth. Cliff, who’s standing outside the diner and staring and you worry he might come back inside to hound you and insist you introduce him, but he doesn’t. 

Steve wraps an arm around your waist, fingers hot against the side of your stomach through the layers of your apron and shirt, and dips to press a kiss to your cheek in greeting. There’s a rush of a swoon that goes down to your toes, the bulk of it getting stuck in your abdomen and swirling like crazy.

You’re in the middle of a greasy old diner but Steve’s somehow tucked you away from prying eyes and into your own little safety bubble. He’ll be the death of you one day. Your heart’ll just keep expanding until it can’t fit inside your ribcage anymore and has no choice but to explode from adoration and kill you. 

“What are you doing here?” you wonder aloud, eyes scanning all around his face, taking in every freckle and crinkle and mole. You pause for a minute on his lips and then you blink and find his eyes. He’s smiling at you, in a way that tells you he caught that and you feel struck by that feeling of being caught in the July sun again. He looks around the diner and everyone’s attention goes back to what they were doing before.

“Thought I’d surprise you! Also, it’s supposed to rain later and you didn’t take a jacket so I brought you one.”

Only then do you notice the gray fabric in his other hand and your heart twists and flips and oh god, you think this might be the moment it explodes. He presses it into your hands, the newspaper crinkling against it. 

“What’s that?” he asks as you go to thank him. Your brow cinches for a minute before it smooths in comprehension.

“Oh! Cliff,” you point towards the door he’d just walked through, “one of the regulars, leaves the paper behind for me every morning so I can do the crosswords. A little tradition we’ve got going on.”

“A tradition? Should I be concerned?” He jokes and you laugh. 

“Oh, definitely. Cliff’s your biggest competition,” you throw back and now it’s his turn to laugh. A glittering light fills your chest. You glance over to where Dottie is engaged in conversation with a middle aged woman just passing through. She can’t hear you from this far but you drop your voice nonetheless. “No but, he did give me a bit of a hard time about his coffee being almost an hour late this morning.”

At your pointed look and sly smile, Steve winces, fingers pressing a quick squeeze against your side. An embarrassed blush blooms on his cheeks, bridging across his nose. “Right. Sorry.”

“Forgiven,” you lean up to press the quickest flash of a kiss to his cheek. You wrap your arms around the newspaper and jacket, holding them to your chest. “Do you wanna sit for a minute? I can get you some coffee? Although be warned, Dottie might come up and talk to you.”

His arm drops from around your waist and he nods. “Yeah. Yeah, coffee sounds great.”

You smile and motion him into Cliff’s booth. When he sits, he insists on holding onto the jacket and newspaper for you and you let him. He watches you take Cliff’s mug away and walk to Dottie behind the counter to get him a fresh one.

Dottie bumps her hip with yours as you pass and you give her a look. The pot’s nearly empty and you wait the few minutes it takes for it to fill, eyes catching on Steve while you wait. He’s stopped staring and has instead taken interest in the comics in the paper. 

“He’s handsome,” Dottie’s voice snaps you back into your senses. You glance at her and she’s got a special look in her eyes to match the smile on her face. You check the coffee pot that’s filling up quicker than normal. But your focus drifts back over to Steve, who senses your gaze and looks over to you and flashes a big grin. 

“Yeah,” you sigh, “he is.”

Dottie looks between the two of you and then takes a look around the diner. It’s not the usual Sunday hustle and bustle, post early breakfast rush and the impending rain could be the indicator for that. She's got Susan and Judy’ll be coming in any minute now and Pam right after at 12. When she looks back at you, you’re watching the last few drops of coffee fall into the pot. 

“Take the rest of the day,” Dottie says. Your eyes snap up to meet hers over the coffee pot between you.

“What?”

“Go sit and have coffee with that boy of yours and then go home,” it doesn’t sound like a suggestion, more like an order but you look around the diner and hesitate. 

“Dottie, it's Sunday. I can’t just leave this early on our busiest day of the week.”

“There’ll be other Sundays busier than this one. And you need your rest after the night you had. We’ll be okay, now go,” she pushes. You bite back a smile as you relent, kissing Dottie on the cheek as you pass with the full coffee pot and two mugs gripped tightly in your other hand. She shakes her head watching you cross back to the third booth from the door. 

Steve lights up when you enter his line of sight but his brow furrows at the two mugs held in your left hand. You set them on the table and fill them both with the fresh coffee before setting the pot down on the table. He watches you slide into the empty spot in front of him. The same place you assume Winnie occupied when she’d come here with Cliff. 

“Dottie’s letting me off early,” you say, grabbing an almost obscene amount of Sweet ‘n’ Low packets and dumping them into your mug. “Can you hand me a creamer?”

Steve finds himself staring at you, doctoring your diner coffee to how you like it, hearts for eyes and a wistful smile taking permanent residency on his face. When he doesn’t hand you the creamer right away, you look up, only a little confused but mostly amused at the blatant and overwhelming display of admiration across his features. 

“Steve?”

He blinks in quick succession and clumsily reaches for a creamer while you giggle and god, it’s killing him that he hasn’t kissed you right yet since he’s been here. You hold out your hand and he sets the mini pod on your palm, your fingers brushing his as they enclose around it with a thank you. 

He watches you finish stirring in the creamer, the coffee in your cup now a light shade of brown. You take a sip, both palms wrapped around the mug and your eyes on his when you set it down on the table. 

“You look nice,” you say, eyes dropping down to the simple white tee he’s wearing. When you look back up at his face, his smile is cheeky and his cheeks are flushed. It takes an incredible amount of self restraint not to kiss him across the table.

“Yeah? The plain white tee is really doing it for you?” he leans closer over the table, voice dropped just the slightest bit. You mirror his movement almost like there’s a magnet pulling the two of you together. Steve pulls one of your hands into his, weaving your fingers together across the table. 

“Wouldn’t you like to know,” there’s a flirtatious thrum in your voice that makes Steve grin. His mouth opens to respond, another silly flirty quip back when Dottie appears at the side of the table. 

“You kids want anything to eat?” 

The sound of her voice sends Steve jumping back against his seat, like he’s 15 and getting caught doing something he shouldn’t be. You lean back slowly, amusement clear on your face and a question in your eyes. Do you?

Steve looks from you and up to Dottie who watches with a knowing gleam in her eye. He starts to shake his head but then his eyes fall back to you and he’s repeating the question to you with his eyes. You consider it for a second and then shake your head slightly which Steve repeats to Dottie.

“No, we’re alright, thanks,” he says and Dottie nods. She grabs the coffee pot but doesn’t move. 

“Heard a lot about you…” she trails off and Steve’s eyes widen just a tad. 

“Oh! Steve. Harrington. Steve Harrington,” he fills in the blank for her, even reaching out his hand for her to shake. 

“Dottie. She talks a lot about you, Steve. Sometimes I don’t even think she realizes she’s doing it.”

You try to cover your face with your one free hand and groan, “Dottie.”

Steve lets out a small laugh and squeezes your hand, always finding it endearing to see you flustered. You slowly move your hand away, to which Steve gives you a quick wink which only makes you want to hide away again like you’re 16 with a crush. 

Dottie pulls him into an easy conversation. How is Hawkins? Where’d you both meet? And: Do you have a job? I expect only the best for my girl here, you know. And: you’ll have to come back and have something more than just coffee next time. 

By the time she’s finished and gone off to engage with the newest patron in the diner, your coffee’s finished and Steve’s has gone cold. You watch Dottie walk off and when you look back, Steve’s staring at you, soft and kind. His gaze makes you squirm. 

“I like her,” he says. 

“Uh oh, do I have to worry about having competition now?” you joke and Steve shakes his head with a laugh. 

“You don’t have to worry about anyone else, you’re the only one for me,” he confesses, rubbing his thumb against your hand. There’s that feeling like your heart might explode again with a sigh of his name, Steve. Though this time, you’re positive you’ve said it outloud.

“Steve,” you tilt your head, voice soft. He lifts your hand to kiss your knuckles and if you don’t kiss him in the next minute, you’re going to have a problem. As if he can sense it, Steve sticks a five on the table and grabs the jacket he’d brought for you as well as Cliff’s leftover newspaper.

He holds his hand out to you to help you out of your side of the booth and you take it, his palm soft against yours. You make it to the door and then pause. 

“Oh! Gotta grab my bag from the back,” you lean up to press a kiss against his cheek. “Meet you at the car?”

Steve nods, squeezing your hip briefly. He watches until you’ve disappeared into the back office before he walks out to his car. You come out not even a minute later, apron off and over your arm and bag hanging off your shoulder. There’s a slight skip in your step. 

The air smells like rain, an earthy petrichor that makes things somehow feel lighter. Steve’s leaning against the passenger side, the door already open and waiting for you. When you’re close enough, he hooks a finger through your bag strap to pull it off your shoulder. It gets caught on the crook of your elbow when you reach up to cup his cheeks with your hands. 

He’s confused for the briefest of seconds and then your lips are on his and he forgets about the bag on your shoulder. His hands fall to your hips, one of his arms wrapping tight around your waist. Something inside both of you is cheering, finally. 

You don’t think you’ll ever tire of kissing Steve. Both of you fit perfectly into the empty spots of each other, as if you were carved from the same stone upon creation. It’s a kiss almost far too explicit for outside Dottie’s diner midmorning on a Sunday but you can’t bring yourself to care. That is, until you need to come up for air. 

You pull back, Steve chasing your lips and winning. You’re almost smiling too much now for it to work, your hands sliding from his cheeks to the sides of his neck. This time, he pulls away and your chests rise and fall in sync. 

“Been needing to do that since you first walked inside,” you breathe out and Steve lets out a laugh that you can feel reverberate through you. He kisses you again, quick and soft and his hand moves to take your bag off your shoulder again. 

“And why didn’t you?” he jests, stepping back enough for you to get into his car. One of your hands rests on the top of it, the other hanging loose at your side. Steve wishes he had a camera on him just to capture you in that moment with the sun hitting you in just the right way, playful adoration in your eyes. 

“Because,” you shrug, stooping to get inside the car, holding a hand out for your bag when you’re situated. Steve passes it over and closes your door, jogging around the front of the car to get in the driver’s seat. 

“Because…?” he pries, sticking the key in the ignition but not yet turning it. You’re pulling your seatbelt across your chest, turning your head to smile at him as you click the buckle into place. 

“Because Dottie might’ve gotten suspicious as to why I was so late this morning,” another pointed look his way and Steve shakes his head, turning the engine over and quickly buckling in his seatbelt. He shifts into reverse, checking his rearview mirror and then slinging his arm across the back of your seat. 

It’s like a feast for your eyes. The stretch of his arm, a long expanse of muscle right by your head that carries a strong whiff of his cologne. The swift, smooth, one handed feel on the wheel. You’re staring unabashed, only getting knocked out of your reverie when he responds. 

“I’m never living this down.”

He glances at you, his arm dropping from your seat to shift into drive. You lean your head against the headrest and shake it with a smile. 

“So what was your excuse then? For being late?” 

He pulls onto the street to take you back towards Hawkins, his right hand leaving the wheel and dropping to find your hand. You take the liberty of slotting your fingers into the spaces between his. 

“Oh you know. Rough night being sick. Oversleeping. Like something out of Steve Harrington’s playbook for getting out of work,” you tease. He scoffs, sparing you a quick amused glance. You lift your hands to your lips in response, your smile hiding behind the kiss you press to his knuckles. 

“And did it work? Did she buy it?” 

“Oh, of course. Why do you think she let me off so early?” 

Steve looks over at you again and sees the slight smirk on your face. He shakes his head with a slight laugh. 

“Wow, you’ve been hanging around me too long. I’m rubbing off on you.”

“Like that’s such a bad thing,” you roll your eyes, turning your head so your cheek rests against the leather of the headrest. A gooey softness melts into your gaze. “You’re one of the best people I know.”

Steve smiles, his cheeks blooming with a slight twinge of pink. He doesn’t say anything, just takes his turn lifting your joined hands to his lips to litter kisses along your knuckles. Your heart goes mushy, such has been the case since you started dating Steve. The mush liquefies, seeping through your body with a shiver when you notice the picture he’s got propped on his dash. 

He’s had to have just added it recently. A grainy film capture of the two of you, you think Max must’ve taken it if you remember correctly but you haven’t seen it before. You’re both leaning against the hood of his car, Steve’s arm around your shoulders and your hand lifted to hold his hand that hangs there. A big toothy grin is spread across your face, your head tilted slightly against Steve’s shoulder. Steve’s not looking at the camera though, he’s looking at you with a lopsided smile, adoration spilling out of him clear as day. 

“When did you add that?” you ask, pointing at the picture with your free hand. Steve glances down at it and immediately breaks into a smile.

“Just the other day. Surprised it’s taken you so long to notice it,” he replies, looking over at you and then back at the road. You’re about to ask if you can somehow get a copy of your own when he says, “I have a copy for you at home, don’t worry. I’ll make sure you get it before you go back to your place.”

You smile at him, one that’s soft around the edges, a perfect mirror of how you feel. It feels so wonderful to be known and seen by somebody the way Steve knows and sees you. Making sure to get two prints of that picture of you. Bringing a jacket to work for you for the rain that doesn’t arrive until that afternoon as you’re about to leave his house to go back to yours. 

He uses it as an excuse to keep you with him for another night, something you weakly protest against because the roads aren’t completely slick yet and you can get home just fine. But he insists, his eyes round and pleading and really you can’t deny that you’d rather stay with him anyway. 

Even if it means you’re tired again in the morning and rushing to work. You think being with Steve is a worthy price to pay, you never thought you’d be so glad to be so tired. 

And, at least you’re not late this time.

[starry-eyed-steve-library]

I'm honored my comment sparked the idea for this part. It made me really happy that I could help out 💗

I absolutely love your writing, it just feels so in character. The way Steve talks and how he interacts with others is just like in canon. 💗

Lmao I feel kinda bad being the reason that Dustin felt the consequences of his actions in part 1 briefly. But also again Steve is such a pushover he couldn't enforce boundaries when it comes to the kids, so him allowing Dustin to eat 5 min later was a typical Steve move. 💗

Robin and Dustin being the captain of the ship, along with Eddie because they have eyes is incredible. I wouldn't have minded them meddling, maybe in the future. 💗

I also loved getting the perspective of the reader there at the end, how they felt after the party. It's kinda hilarious that her bf's name didn't even start with J, like Steve really wasn't bothered to know his name lmao. 💗😭

Can't wait to find out what happened. Maybe the bf found out that they kissed. 😭 I'm such a sucker for the "you came? you called" trope, esp if the people are not on speaking terms. Hopefully they will realize in the next chapter that they both have feelings for each other 😭💗

You know in the end, I'll always be there (steve harrington x reader)

Based on the song ‘the promise’ by when in Rome

Part 3 of the Head over Heels mini series

I had to type Dustin so many times that now i'm not sure its a real word

Pls pls pls note that steve not getting Henry's name right is completely intentional and not me accidentally mixing the names up 😭

Will there be a part four soon or will I drop off the face of the earth again ? who knows. I literally have no clue how to end this (completely unintentional) series.

Angst, pining, idiots in love, no use of y/n, 

4k words <3

Dred was eating away at Steve. It has been a week since that god-forsaken party. A week since he’d kissed you. A week since you had left him sitting alone on Tina’s porch. It has been the longest that the two of you have gone without talking since he met you. Steve had hoped that maybe you'd woken up the day after the party and developed a special type of amnesia that only made you forget about the kiss (and Joseph, but that was just wishful thinking) but as time went on the more his hope dwindled. It was clear you were avoiding him, there were no more late night phone calls where the two of you would talk nonsense till passing out, no more dropping by family video and no more afternoons spent driving around Hawkins with no specific destination in mind. Even after you had started seeing Jonah, you and Steve still talked on a daily basis but then he went and fucked it all up. Typical. 

As Steve lay in bed staring at his ceiling, he thought about that day at the lake and how Eddie had so easily picked up on his feelings for you, he then remembered the vow he made himself about how his feelings should not interfere with your friendship. He grabbed the pillow next to him and covered his face before letting out a long groan and then tossed said pillow across his bedroom.

He’s. Fucked. It. Up. 

The one thing he swore to himself he wouldn't do, he went and did anyway.

His heart hurt at the thought that his actions may have pained you in some way but relished as he remembered the feeling of your lips against his.

He truly didn't know what came over him that night at Tina's party. But before he could ponder on that for too long the phone on his bedside table began to ring. 

He answered it in a heartbeat, silently begging for it to be you on the other side. 

Unfortunately for Steve he was met with Dustin's screeching and not your soft voice. 

Dustin was all but begging him for a ride to the arcade which Steve reluctantly agreed to. His shift was due to start in just under an hour anyway so he said he'd pick up Dustin on his way.

After hanging up the phone Steve was plunged back into a vicious silence due to his house being devoid of any life other than himself. For the first time in a week, instead of giving into it and wallowing in self pity, he got up to shower.

Steve pulled up to Dustin's house half an hour later.

“You're late” the younger boy declared as he yanked the door open and clambered into the passenger seat. 

“I don't think we actually agreed on a time” 

Dustin rolled his eyes as he fastened his seatbelt and reached into his pocket for his packet of m&ms. 

“No, no, no” Steve said before snatching the packet out of Dustin's hands. “No eating in my car”

Dustin's look of bewilderment would've made Steve laugh had he not been in such a bitter mood.

“What the hell are you talking about, you let me eat in here all the time” Dustin argued as he attempted to grab the candy back from Steve.

“No, I used to let you eat in here until you went and spilled nerds everywhere, it's been three months and I'm still finding them.”

Dustin rolled his eyes and slumped back in his seat as Steve shoved the packet of m&ms into the glove box and went to start the car.

“Your just mad because you and your girlfriend had a fight”

Steve's eyes nearly popped out of their sockets at Dustin’s accusation.

“You- my-... what?”

“Yeah, haven't seen you two together in a while.” Dustin said as he waggled his finger in Steve's face.

Steve whacked his hand away from him with a look of disgust on his face. Partly because of what Dustin was saying but mostly because his hand was covered in Cheeto dust.

“First off, she isn’t my girlfriend,” Dustin gave him a sceptical look before starting to argue back.

“And second,” Steve interjected before Dustin could start picking holes in his words “we aren't fighting were both just, y’know… busy”

“Busy.” Dustin repeated, looking doubtful.

“Yeah she's got her stuff going on and I've got mine” 

Steve kept his eyes on the road in front of him as he spoke knowing his face would betray him which would only give the other boy more reason not to believe his words. He hated lying to Dustin but knew that the boy was prone to meddling in others lives and if he knew how Steve really felt about you he couldn't be sure Dustin wouldn't insert himself where he was not wanted. Plus he wasn't really lying, you two hadn’t fought, you were just avoiding Steve like the plague. …There's a difference. 

“I never said her name” Dustin's voice pulled Steve back into reality.

“Huh?”

“You knew exactly who I was talking about and I never even said her name”

Steve sat in silence as Dustin gave him a smug smile 

“Whatever man that doesn't prove anything”

“Or maybe it proves everything”

They pull up at a stop light as Dustin finishes. Steve takes the opportunity to open his glovebox and grab the packet of m&ms and throw them at Dustin. They hit him in the face before falling onto his lap.

“Shut up and eat your m&ms”

Dustin looked like the cat who got the damn cream as he ripped open the packet and shoved a handful into his mouth.

“You should go for it though, if you do like her, she’s cool” 

Steve valued Dustin's sentiment, however he would have valued it more if Dustin had finished chewing his m&ms before saying it. He didn't reply though, knowing whatever he said Dustin would have something annoyingly Dustin-ish to retort with.

He continued stewing over Dustin's words in his head until they arrived at family video. Steve had barely finished parking the car before Dustin was opening the door and jumping out, shouting Steve a goodbye over his shoulder as he hurried into the arcade. Steve rolled his eyes affectionately at the younger boy's actions before sighing and reaching to the backseat to grab his family video vest, shrugging it on and adjusting his name tag as he climbed out of his car. 

He’d been standing behind the front counter in a state of monotony for a few minutes (though it felt like hours) before Robin burst through the door.

“You look like a kicked puppy” 

Steve looked up from where he had been staring at the floor and methodically scuffing the carpet with the toe of his shoe. 

“Good morning to you too, Robin”

Robin waved her hand at him dismissively as she walked into the backroom to clock in.

“You need to grow a pair and talk to her Harrington” her voice echoed across the empty store.

“I have no idea what your talking about”

“You know exactly what I'm talking about. You've been sat here all week staring longingly at the door waiting for her to walk through it”

“I have not”

“Yes Steve, you have. You're waiting for all your problems to solve themselves, which is what you always do.”

“Oh yeah, your one to talk” steve mumbled 

Robin rolled her eyes as she walked back over to where he sat.

“Even if I did talk to her, what would I even say?”

“Just tell her how you feel, dingus” Robin said it like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

“Oh yeah that's a great idea, so what, you want me to go up to her and tell her that I can’t stop thinking about her, that I haven't been able to get her out of my head for like months, that I’m so head over heels in love with her that it hurts and then what will happen Robin? I will loose her forever because incase you haven’t noticed she’s with someone else and so obviously dosn’t feel the same way, so I will live the rest of my life in misery while they go off and get married and have children and I’ll be sat at home with my four cats wishing that I’d just fucking told her when I had the chance.” Steve dropped on the stool by the computer with a huff as he finished his monologue.

Robin stood in silence with an amused look on her face.

“You have always had a flair for the dramatics Harrington” 

Steve buried his head in his hands.

“Look they've been dating for like a month, I highly doubt they’re getting married anytime soon” 

“That's no the point, I-,” Steve stood up from where he sat, avoiding eye contact with Robin as best he could as he walked to grab the trolly full of tapes to be restocked “Look the bottom line is I want her to be happy, and if shes happy with Josh then I should just forget about it”

“Steve”

“No, i'm just going to apologise and say it was a stupid drunken mistake and leave her be”

“Fine, if that's what you want the-”

“It is.” Steve said with such firmness that Robin couldn't argue no matter how much she wanted to. The look in his eyes was one of such finality and sadness that it broke her heart to see. 

She had stood by and watched for months as Steve pined desperately for a totally oblivious you. She had watched as Steve went on date after date trying to get over you but his tactic had failed due to every girl he dated saying that he'd spent a great deal of time talking about you and was clearly harbouring an attachment. The notion made Robin cringe but also feel a great deal of sympathy for her clearly longing friend.

Robin couldn't shake the awful feeling that things were not going to end well for the two of you. She cared for you both greatly and couldn't bear to witness the aftermath of what would surely be an explosive end to your and Steve's friendship.

She was so sure that one of you would have come to your senses and confessed by now, it was completely, glaringly, painfully obvious to anyone outside the two of you that there were feelings involved. The longing stares, the inside jokes that date back years, the constant need to be close to each other and the uncanny ability to know what the other is thinking made Robin a tad envious if she was being completely honest. The two of you had been friends for as long as she could remember and somehow you weren't sick of each other. 

She could tell that probing Steve any longer wouldn't amount to anything so she left him alone to restock the tapes as she manned the front desk, alone. 

The rest of Steve's shift passed mind-numbingly slowly, and without a word from Robin, until the clock on the back wall struck 10 pm and Steve could be released from the hellscape that is family video. Robin had waved him goodbye with a sad smile as she left before he could offer her a ride home. He watched as she fastened her helmet and did up her jacket to try to somewhat protect herself from the downpour that had started 10 minutes ago. He felt like shit watching her go, realising that his misery was contagious and had just forced his best friend to cycle home in the rain rather than have to talk to him. Just as he was about to go into the back to clock out, the phone rang.

He huffed out a breath of air before picking up the receiver and mentally prepared his customer service voice.

“Welcome to family video, what can I help you with ?”

He was expecting a frazzled customer to beg him to stay open late so they could return their tape to avoid a late fee, or maybe a request to reserve the new Top Gun VHS they'd just got in. But that is not what he heard.

“Steve ?”

If he hadn't been listening so intently he would have missed it. It was your voice and hearing it had done a number on his brain. He opened and closed his mouth like a goldfish trying to get some semblance of a word to come out

“Steve? Are you there?”

“Uhh yeah, yes I'm here. What- uhh -what's up?” 

“I didn't know who else to call.” You paused to try and work out what to say. He'd never in his life heard your voice sound so small. Through the static Steve swore he heard a muffled sob, without thinking Steve asked, “Are you crying?” 

Steve talks without thinking far too often and when he says brainless things such as what he just asked you, it makes him want to bang his head on the counter in front of him. Repeatedly. 

“I- Can you come pick me up?” you ask quietly, like you haven't quite decided if you want him to hear you or not, then you start talking very quickly as you add “i'm so sorry, I know its late, it’s just no one else is picking up and my parents would go mad if they knew where I was, plus-”

“Where are you ?” he asked gently, trying to calm you down.

“The Hideout”

That took Steve by surprise. The only time you would go to the Hideout was to see Eddie play with Corroded Coffin and even then you would only stay for his set. The sticky tables, seedy patrons and deafening music not really being to your taste. 

“I’m sorry steve, I know its a trek but-”

“I'll be there in ten minutes”

Didn’t you know that Steve would go to the ends of the earth to make sure you were alright? A ten minute drive was hardly an ultimatum.

“Thank you Steve” your words were quiet but sincere. 

“It's no problem”

There was a few seconds of silence before the line went dead, Steve hoped that you had run out of change and not just hung up on him. 

Steve rushed into the backroom to clock out then back through the store to the front door. He made sure to lock it before covering his head with his jacket and running to his car.

He's not ashamed to say he broke a few traffic laws on his way to the hideout but he was running on pure adrenaline so really he can't be blamed. Your words were swirling around his thoughts. How you had said ‘none of your other friends’, Steve hoped that meant that you still viewed him as a friend and not that you were just trying to spare his feelings. Other is just a five letter word, was he really going to place all his hope in your friendship having a future on a five letter word? He thought that doing so may be setting himself up for disappointment when he realised that you had called him. He knew that you’d tried to call other people first but he was still considered as an option and that made him push his foot on the accelerator a little bit harder. 

Questions clouded his thoughts. Why hasn't your boyfriend picked you up? Why were you at the Hideout? More importantly, why were you crying? Has Jeremiah made you cry? 

He thought about what Robin and Dustin had said to him as he sped further through the sleepy town, how they thought he should tell you how he felt. Perhaps they were right or perhaps they have never cared about someone as much as Steve cares about you so could never understand what was at stake. 

The rain was coming down even heavier now and making the road ahead harder to see, but he pushed on. 

He still hasn't decided whether he would reveal his feelings to you as he arrived at the Hideout. The rain paired with the light coming from the dingy bar made looking through his car windows difficult but he still desperately searched the surrounding area for you. He soon realised that he would have to get out to find you so reached around to the backseats to search for his umbrella. He stuck his hand under the passenger seat and felt the cylindrical object and pulled it out. It was, like everything else in his car, covered in nerds. He got out of the car as he brushed them off whilst cursing Dustin and vowing to never ever let him eat in the car again (he broke that vow within the week)(he's starting to realise that he's awful at keeping promises that he makes to himself). 

The rain showed no signs of easing up as he walked closer to the bar entrance, still scanning the surrounding area, until he finally spotted you. You were sitting hunched over under the awning near the entrance of the bar. Thankfully safe and dry but far from okay. Your knees were pulled up to your chest with your arms wrapped around them and your forehead resting on top facing the floor. Your hair was wet and windswept and your shoes covered in mud. As he walked closed he could see your foot tapping rapidly up and down as you so often did when you're feeling anxious. He stopped next to you and knelt town to softly touch your shoulder. Your head shot up at his touch and for the first time in an agonising week, his eyes met yours. 

Your eyes were red and puffy and your cheeks had streaks of mascara flowing down them confirming what he'd asked you on the phone, your hands shook due to the cold and your voice quivered as you said “you came”.

Steve hated that there was a note of disbelief in your voice.  

“Of course I came, idiot” he attempted to make it sound light and jokey akin to the way you would normally talk to try and make you and himself feel better.

You giggle slightly whilst looking down to wipe the tears from your face. 

Steve didn't know what he was supposed to do next. He didn't know if he was meant to take you home, or back to his house, or sit out here or what. His knees made the decision for him as they began to ache due to his crouched position, so he moved to sit down next to you. Your legs brush up against each other and shoulders bump together in an all too familiar way as he settles.

Your presence was comforting but there was a sense of detachment between you that made Steve feel sick to his stomach. For a while the only noise was the howling wind and sound of chatter from inside the bar. Steve couldn't bear it, silence was not something the two of you heard much of when together.  

“What happened ?” He can't bring himself to look you in the eyes again yet so he settles for looking at the trees swaying in the distance. 

Steve doesn't quite know what he's asking. Whether he's asking what happened tonight for you to end up crying alone outside the Hideout or what happened between the two of you after Tina's party is unknown to him, but both answers pique his interest. 

After a beat of silence you shuffle to sit with your legs outstretched like his and sigh “It's a long story”.

“I’ve got time” as he says it he reaches for your hand which is now resting on your lap and squeezes it whilst giving you a reassuring smile. He has no idea where the surge of confidence came from but he's glad he did it as you hold his hand tightly in return. You both angle yourselves toward each other as you let out a deep breath and try to work out how to tell Steve how you ended up here. 

Your night had been a shitshow, to put it lightly. 

Not just your night, your entire week has been one thing after another. 

It started the minute your boyfriend came stumbling through the door at Tina's party and plunged you back into reality. 

The second you had realised what you'd done, that you'd just kissed Steve, your best friend, the boy you've had a crush on for years and had finally just started to get over, your mind hasn't stopped racing. Because Steve had kissed you. Steve had kissed you. Steve had kissed you and you had no idea what it meant. And it fucking terrifed you. 

Did he do it because he was drunk and horny? or because he liked you? or because he needed the ego boost after all his failed attempts at dating recently? 

The only thing you knew was you needed to get yourself and your very inebriated boyfriend out of Tina's house. So you grabbed Henry by the arm and physically dragged him through the still raging party, out of the front door and away from Steve Harrington. 

You walked home that night, slowly, as Henry stopped every block to throw up into bushes. You took him back to his house and pushed him through his front door, not even bothering to tell him goodbye as you set off back to your house. Despite knowing the dangers that lurked in the shadows of Hawkins you kept walking, trying to make sense of the night's events. Your mind was a conflicted mess and you had no idea how to go about sorting through the jumble. 

On one hand you had Henry, who you'd started dating just over a month ago and who two weeks ago asked you to be his girlfriend. When you introduced Henry to the group you’d been so sure that he and Steve would get along, both being into sports and such but there was animosity between them that you couldn't quite make sense of. Eddie had said not to worry about it, that it was just Steve being protective, and you accepted that for your own peace of mind but now you're wondering if his dislike for Henry stemmed from somewhere else. The thought made your tummy fill with butterflies, that maybe Steve likes you. You smiled to yourself before remembering that you have a boyfriend. Henry was … nice, attractive, on the football team at Indianapolis community college and was decent in bed  but- . You stopped in your tracks, you hadn't realised when listing things about your boyfriend that there would be a but, yet here you were realising that you could be dating Tom fucking Cruise, but he would never be Steve Harrington. 

Steve, your Steve who for so many years had been the one person you can tell everything to, someone who you felt safe around, someone who you have envisioned having around for the rest of your life, someone who you had just kissed and left sitting alone on a porch at Tina's party. Tonight, when your lips met his, a flood of emotions washed over you, and it became clear, what you have felt for Steve wasn't some childish crush, it was love. Shit, You love Steve. The realisation should have scared you shitless but it didn't. Instead you felt a sense of clarity and calm before a storm of overwhelming guilt hit you. 

You did a full three-sixty and began walking back to Tina’s. With each step you took your heart pounded with the realisation that you might be too late, that he’d left and you missed your chance to-, wait.. What were you going to do? 

[starry-eyed-steve-library]

The Killing Moon (steve harrington x reader)

based off the song The Killing Moon by Echo and the Bunnymen

can be read as a part two to this fic or on its own

warnings: Unrequited (????) love, hurt no comfort, angst, kissing, alcohol, parties, swearing and a guy that smells like cabbage (lmk if i missed any) no use of Y/N, reader is described to be wearing a dress but no other description other then that

1.1K words <3

Steve Harrington is a stupid, stupid man. He knew that, really, he did. It was being proven to him time and time again, his own stupidity and poor decisions were being thrown back in his face. His poorest decision to date was not confessing his perennial love for you before you found someone else. It's not like he didn't have a chance to tell you, you're his best friend, you see each other everyday without fail. He'd had an infinite amount of chances but ultimately was too much of a wuss to do anything. 

Steve sighed as he grabbed another drink from the makeshift bar that had been set up on Tina's kitchen table and started shoving through the crowds of people to find somewhere quiet to wallow in self pity. The banging music and general cheerful mood of the party was getting too much for him. Unfortunately fate was not on his side, it rarely was. Karma for being such a dick in highschool he supposed as he heard a laugh. A laugh he has heard a thousand times before. A laugh that haunts him. Your laugh. 

You were here. With him. 

You hadn't seen Steve, not when He was distracting your every sense. You looked….. Ethereal. Too good for this world, far too good for Steve and definitely too good for that guy. Steve didn't even know what you saw in him, you had told Steve about him, raving about how great he was and how you were sure that they'd get along. His name was�� James or Jake, maybe josh? Steve couldn't remember, it's Jeremy’s own fault really, he should get a better name. Steve watched as Jack-Josh-Jake’s half smirk bewitched you and his hands wandered to the hem of your dress. Steve stood staring, never occurring to him that he probably looked rather creepy, as he cursed whatever higher power there was for letting that smug bastard be born. He just couldn't understand, this guy was barely 6’, had god awful hair and vaguely smelt like cabbage. What was the attraction? 

After around two minutes of Steve trying to explode Jason (?) with his mind he spotted the door to the back garden and started to make his way over there whilst vowing to brush up on his telekinesis skills so he could throw that guy through a wall or something. 

He sat on a lonely bench on the porch facing the garden, watching the moon as it cast dancing shadows, holding his drink with white knuckles and trying not to let his thoughts linger where they shouldn't. 

“Hey stranger”

The sound of your voice made him jump which made you giggle slightly. He would make a fool of himself again and again if it meant that he could hear that noise every time. 

“What you doin’ sitting out here all by yourself hmm ?” 

you said as you sat down next to him, close enough that he could smell the liquor on your breath and the heat radiating off you. 

“Oh nothin’ just .. chillin’” 

Steve grimaced at his response 

“Well can I just chill with you? ” 

You chuckle while nudging his shoulder slightly.

Steve looked you in the eyes for the first time that night and gave a small nod. He didn't trust himself not to say something absolutely insane like how he was so in love with you that the smell of your perfume was more intoxicating than the beer he had been half heartedly sipping on or that the feeling of your arm against him was occupying so many of his thoughts that he probably couldn't even tell you where he was right now or how-

“Stevie, can I ask you something ?” 

Stevie, oh god you could ask him for his arm and he would saw it off and present it to you without hesitation. 

“Yeah whats- whats up ?” 

“I don't know, it's probably stupid, I'm just worried about you, y’know? you've been acting… different?”

“You're worried about me?”

“Steve, I’m always worried about you” 

Steve couldn't fight off the grin that erupted on his face. His entire body felt hot at your confession. He was pathetic. 

“Why are you smiling Steve, I'm serious, is something going on?”

It was his chance, probably his last one. He was going to do it, tell you he loved you and wanted to date you and have children and get married, well probably not all that, he might come off a bit intense. You sat looking at him expectantly as he turned to face you. The words died on his tongue as he realised how close together the two of you were. 

“I-” Steve started “ I just wanted to tell you-” he couldn't finish the sentence.

“Tell me what, steve ple-” 

He cut you off as he cupped your cheek and kissed you.

A surprised sound left your mouth before you slowly close your eyes and sunk into his lips.

Your kiss was cruel, cruel as he knew he would spend the rest of his life trying to find some semblance of it and would fail to. Cruel in the way your lips fit so perfectly with his, flawlessly moulding together and cruel in the way that he knew that there was no coming back from this. He was absolutely fucked. He was kissing his best friend, his best friend who was the one person he could not lose, his best friend who belonged to someone else. 

Maybe it was fate ,he thought, maybe he was meant to be sat out here and you were meant to find him and this was meant to happen, or maybe it was the sheer might of human will and his lack of self control or maybe it was cheap beer and hormones. Whatever it was he was glad of it. 

Slowly, you pull away, your forehead resting against his, eyes closed and expression unreadable. 

Steve had never felt so content, he was in such a state of bliss that it was a rather rude awakening then the patio door banged open shattering the delicate bubble that surrounded you both. 

You jumped up at the noise, whipping around toward the door. 

“babe, i've been lookin’ for you” 

His speech was slurred as he sauntered towards you. Steve thought Jackson’s face had never looked so punchable.

You walked towards the unwelcome intruder and grabbed his arm, giving him a small smile as you dragged him back inside, not sparing Steve a glance. 

Steve felt his heart crack and dread fill his stomach. This was it, you would never speak to him again, he would become a drunken mistake, a mere annotation in your story. His own thoughts devastated him as he looked back up at the sky, the blue moon looking back down at him. The only thing that comforted him now was the knowledge that he was yours, unabashedly and perpetually, his heart lay with you and it was yours to keep. Steve just hoped you would be a little more careful with it from now on.

[starry-eyed-steve-library]

Driving For Dummies

Steve Harrington x Reader

Steve wasn’t sure how you managed to rope him into this.

He didn’t let anyone drive his car.

Yet here you were in the driving seat for a change and he was sat next to you, slightly scared for his life and definitely scared for his car.

“Steve you’re meant to be teaching me!” You hissed, eyes unmoving and both hands clasped to the steering wheel. “How do you make this look so easy!” You yelped out as you narrowly dodged someone cycling.

“Jesus Christ sweetheart can you just, just concentrate.” He responded looking nervously over the dash and at the road ahead.

“Well tell me how I’m doing, what am I doing wrong?” You asked frustrated, it was around 8pm the sun only just setting across Hawkins and the breeze through the car was helping you relax.

A little.

“You’re doing great just, ease up a little. You get any closer to the steering wheel you could make out with it.” He told you in a sarcastic tone.

You did relax, your knuckles no longer white from clutching the wheel, knees not so locked up.

Rolling your shoulders back you took a deep breath.

“Think I’m ready for my test?” You asked jokingly and Steve’s scoff made you glare at the empty road ahead of you.

“You are a useless teacher.” You grumbled making him laugh out loud.

“And you are a lousy driver.” His tone was teasing but made you want to hit him nonetheless. “How have you made it to twenty four without a license anyway?” He quizzed as he fiddled with the radio station.

“I’ve always had you to drive me.” Your tone was sickly sweet, and it warmed him to hear you speak of him like that whether it was a joke or not.

He loved that it was true, you did have him, in any way you wanted him truth be told.

He did take you to school, and drop you off, he then took you to work and dropped you back home. He even drove all the way to Chicago a few times to take you back to college or to pick you up when you were home sick.

“Great, I enabled this.” Was his reply instead with a playful eye roll.

Less pathetic.

“You did, and that’s why you have to teach me how to drive. I want my own car without nagging you every five minutes for a ride.” You whined as he finally settled on a station, Foreigner playing one of their soppy love songs he refused to admit he loved.

“What if I love you calling every five minutes for a ride?” Steve asked looking over to you.

“I know you don’t.” You mumbled pulling over to the side of the road. “Can you drive us back please?” You’d asked making him grin.

“If I do am I enabling this habit further?” He asked making you giggle.

“What if I love you enabling my habit?” You joked right back, using his own words against him.

“You look prettier sitting passenger anyway.” He stated and reached over to run his thumb over the crease lines between your eyebrows to soothe them. “You frown when you concentrate.” He added in a softer more gentle tone.

Nothing else was said but you both got out and crossed each other walking round the car to swap sides, his fingers brushed your arm as you did and you drove back through Hawkins in silence.

“How many more lessons do you think I need?” You asked rolling your head onto your shoulder and taking him in.

Sun kissed skin and a slightly red tint on his cheeks suggesting he definitely didn’t put on SPF like he told you he did this morning.

He sent you back an easy smile and wink.

“One hundred, and I’m going to start charging.” Smiling fondly at his words you reached over to poke his cheek.

“It sounds like you want to drive me around forever Harrington.” Your teasing words once again warmed him.

“Let’s test that theory sweetheart.” He finalised pulling up outside the small place he’d bought a year back, the other side of Hawkins to his parents but it suited Steve.

It was small and cozy but it was his and he loved it. He loved it more when you were there, which in all honesty was most of the time, he’d told you a hundred times just to move in but you never officially did.

“Same time again tomorrow?” You asked pushing the door open as his arms wrapped around your waist from his place behind you.

“Hmm maybe.” He offered dropping a soft kiss on the side of your neck.

“Maybe?!” You screeched outraged turning in his arms and wrapping your own around his neck.

“I said I was going to start charging.” He reminded before pouting for another kiss that you reached up to plant on his lips.

“What’s the cost Harrington?” Playing along as he walked you backwards to the sofa.

He pretended to think before kissing you again.

“I can think of a few things.” He purred once more before you were both laying on the couch, Steve hovering over you. “Besides, I think I’m pretty happy driving you around forever.” He informed making you smile up at him.

“Well if that’s the case you don’t need all the kisses in lieu of payment.” You mocked making him shake his head.

“Oh no, no you definitely have to keep kissing me. I might die if you ever stop.” You both laughed at the dramatic turn of his words.

“Well I can’t let that happen can I.”

“Absolutely not.” He scolded kissing you one final time.

Okay, you thought happily.

He can drive you everywhere forever.

[starry-eyed-steve-library]

Fluff for Steve Harrington 😊😊

hi lovely! i’m sorry this took forever! but i hope you still enjoy and thank you for sending a request! i’m sorry this is short! & i hope you don’t mind s3 stevie <3

“go talk to him.” robin mutters to you.

you quickly look at her, eyes widened as if that is the most craziest thing she’s every told you. “you’re insane.”

“yes, but,” she shakes her head. “he’d be elated to talk to you. trust me. he won’t shut up about you, asking if you’ve said anything to me about him. it’s annoying.”

your head turns and watch as he sweeps up sprinkles some kid had ordered in a cup and dumped extra on his ice cream. “are you sure?”

“oh, my god. yes. now go.” she turns you around and pushes you towards him.

standing behind him, you become very self aware that this is the closest that you’ve gotten to him, most of the time he’s behind the counter.

“hey, sailor.” wincing at the nickname, you internally scold yourself.

his brows lift and turn towards you. there’s a dopey grin that spreads over his face. “oh, hey.”

“i, uh,” you stutter over your words because you didn’t have enough time to think before you spoke. now you know why they say ‘think before you speak’. “your hair looks nice today.”

there’s a pretty pink that spreads over his cheeks. “you think?”

you nod with a small hum and smile.

“thanks,” he nods. “i like your dress. it’s pretty. you look pretty.”

your heart is suddenly in your throat. it’s a strange feeling because no boy has ever really made you feel that way - besides michael j. fox. you’ve never met michael j. fox.

“thanks. well, this was—”

“would you like to catch a movie? i’m off at 3, there’s a new movie that i’ve been wanting to watch.”

“back to the future?”

his eyes light up. “yeah! yeah, i’ve been wanting to watch that. i was going to wait til it came out, but…”

you smile and tilt your head as you nod. “i’d like that. yeah.”

he smiles and nods. “okay! i’ll meet you by the fountain at, let’s say, 3:30?”

“3:30.” you confirm. he clears his throat and nods.

“3:30.” he says again. you giggle before walking past him. you glance back at robin who gives you a thumb up before walking into the back.

one mark under you rule.

[starry-eyed-steve-library]

This was literally everything I hoped for. Your writing is so stunning, it always leaves me in awe. 💗

First of all, I hope your surgery went well and you're recovering from it as quickly as possible. 💗

I loved the beginning scene with Frankie teaching Robin how to make flower crowns. Their friendship is also very important to me. 💗

It breaks my heart to see Frankie struggle so much, but I understand why she's so stubborn about accepting help. Tho she wouldn't hesitate helping Steve, it's different putting yourself in a vulnerable position and let others take care of you. 😭

I love how they are both communicating with each other. Especially Steve has gotten so mature. Him asking what Frankie needed instead of assuming was incredibly grown up. We love to see growth. 💗

It's amazing how well he can read her, not only can he communicate in a proper way but he knows how to read her mannerisms and respond accordingly. Like the haircut scene was so incredibly intimate because Steve just knew how to react. He promised to keep her save in the previous chapter, and he absolutely delivers. He is so attentive and sweet, he makes her feel safe. I mean idk if I would ever trust someone with my hair like that lol. 😭💗

Speaking of the haircut scene, I'm so jealous of people who can say fuck it I'm gonna shave it off. I bought clippers one time when I wasn't able to wash my hair for months. It got all tangled up, but still, I couldn't shave it off despite feeling so shitty about it. People underestimating how stressful it is to take care of hair specifically. I did cut my hair almost two years ago, where I chopped of like 35cm (14 inches). I never go past bob length, and now it's growing out again. Sorry, this was kinda unnecessary to add here lol. I'm just saying Frankie was quite brave to buzz it all off. I really felt her when she was doubting herself. Steve was very sweet and patient with her there. 💗

The mixtape is amazing, I immediately saved it to my library. Thank you for making this for us, I can't wait to listen to it. I don't know those songs either so I'll experience this like Steve lmao 😅💗

The little voice message before the songs was really sweet, especially Frankie saying that Steve will get it because he notices the small things. I'm absolutely always gonna be elated about praise for Steve's intelligence. He pieces things together in the show that seem not important, especially because the other characters always dunk on his intelligence. But he was the one discovering the Russians, he was able to see that Max was in trouble. Even if his questions are framed as stupid, it shows how attentive he truly is and thus makes him also smart. 💗 I know it was a little thing for Frankie to say but it made me so happy because soo many fics just don't appreciate Steve's attention to detail, they mostly focus on him being a "dumb himbo".😭

Their kiss was everything I hoped for, you're soo talented writing intimate scenes. Their banter is what really makes this special as well. You can feel their love because you see how comfortable they are with each other. I think my favorite part was Frankie telling Steve she loves him and he just answered with "Atta girl". It made me laugh out loud because that was so Steve. 😭💗

I just really love this series and this relationship. I absolutely ship them and wish it was canon. 😭💗

accident prone

part five - a stormy kind of love

Paring: Steve Harrington x Francesca “Frankie” Amato (fem!OC)

Summary: Amidst Frankie’s ruthless flare up, the truth finally spills over and out, just not in a way Steve has ever expected or experienced before.

WC: 11k+ (oops lol)

Includes: a little angst, a lot of fluff, language, mentions/discussions/symptoms of disability (specifically surrounding fibromyalgia and lupus), internalized ableism, hurt/comfort, a fuck ton of emotions and (good) feelings — keeping it vague, don’t wanna spoil anything for y’all ☺️

series playlist ⋮ masterlist

sweetest thing - U2

↻ ◁ || ▷ ↺

“baby’s got blue skies up ahead / and in this I’m a rain cloud

you know we got a stormy kind of love / oh, oh, oh, the sweetest thing”

A/N: hi! the majority of part 5 was one of the very first parts I wrote for this fic, and I’m so excited to share this one with y’all, especially the lil surprise hidden within ☺️ thank you for the support and encouraging words on the last one!! I really hope y’all enjoy this part, bc we’re finally at the good stuff 🥹 (well. some of it. yeah, there’s a part 6 coming I’m sorry LMAO)

ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ

Humans are naturally stubborn; it’s funny how the help and assistance a person might need could be right in front of them, but they shove it away, wanting to be independent and keep their pride intact. Steve’s discovering over time that Frankie is this exact type of stubborn, through and through.

Time has passed since Frankie opened up about her past, and her flare up waxes and wanes; just when it feels like her routine medications are helping, another symptom pops back up. Despite her father, and Steve, constantly suggesting to try intensive treatment, she’s stubborn and continues to refuse the help. And in a way, Steve gets it; the side effects as your body adjusts to a new medication or treatment isn’t exactly a walk in the park, but he hates seeing Frankie suffer. He hates that he can’t do much more than provide emotional comfort.

Steve persists, slipping the suggestion of treatment into conversation when possible, but it never goes anywhere. He promised her, he promised her father, though, that he’d do anything to keep her safe, so he plans on being a total pest about it until she at the very least considers.

Something finally breaks in mid-spring, when he expects her same, stubborn denial instead.

 The sun’s warmth feels good, despite the way the abnormally hot day is causing his joints to heat up with inflammation. He pushes the ache and stiffness out of his mind, just happy to spend time with his friends on a good day, especially now that Dustin and Eddie moved to the city. The park is quiet, too, a perk of visiting in the late morning on a weekday.

“What’re you making?”

Frankie, wearing large sunglasses, grins up at Steve from her spot on an old quilt, holding out a chain of wildflowers she linked together. He can’t see the way her smile crinkles at the corners of her eyes as they usually do, but he knows her facial expressions well enough to envision them anyway.

“Flower crown! Want one?”

“Oh, I, uh—“

“If he doesn’t, I sure do.” Robin nudges Steve aside to sit on the edge of the blanket, sharing with Frankie. He scoffs, joining them on the quilt. 

Steve glances around, then asks, “Where did the other knuckleheads go?”

Robin waves her hand with an eye roll, disinterested. 

“Who knows, who cares.”

Frankie frowns dramatically, “I care.” Steve narrows his eyes playfully at her. “What? I wanna make everyone flower crowns. Didn’t know that was such a crime, Steven.”

Shaking his head, he chuckles, before glancing around to try spotting his friends.

“How the hell do you even make these?” Robin’s curiosity has her fixated on Frankie’s handiwork in real time. She pushes her sunglasses up onto her head before demonstrating.

“So you just…” She takes a hepatica with pastel pink petals, holding the stem gingerly in one hand, while the other holds a tiny pocket knife. She cautiously slices down the middle of the stem, just enough to create a tiny slit. “You could use your fingernails, too, but sometimes it’s easier to use a knife. Paper clips or safety pins work too!” Picking up a spring beauty, she slides its stem into the fresh opening on the hepatica’s stem. Holding it up, she grins at Robin. “Y’just repeat that ‘til it’s the length you want.”

A familiar warmth blooms within Steve while watching his two friends find joy in something so simple. Frankie just… fell into place with Steve’s friends easily. Like she belongs here among them, because she does belong with them.

Giving Robin the flower chain to finish on her own, Frankie grabs some dandelions she gathered earlier, and begins to start a new chain.

“‘Key, those are weeds.”

Though focused on her project, with her tongue sticking out of the side of her mouth, squinting one eye closed— Everything she does is cute. What the fuck— she replies, “They’re wildflowers, Steve.” She slides one stem into another, then resumes slicing down another stem. “They’re important for the bees, and we kinda need bees to exist to live, y’know.”

He snorts, “So why are you taking their flowers, then?”

Frankie’s face drops, “Oh.” Steve thinks she’s playing along at first, even as her bottom lip wobbles comically. Once her eyes become glassy, and she sets her flower chain down, he’s backpedaling his teasing comment, hands shaking ‘no’ along with his head.

“No, no, I was kidding! I— you’re not— they’re fine, the bees are fine.”

Robin can’t hold back her laughter, and Steve glares at her. “I was laughing at you, dingus. Frankie’s got a point, bees are important.” 

“Guys, it’s— I’m okay,” Frankie shrugs it off, wiping her eyes with the sleeve of her sweater; black eyeliner smudges along the knit, grey, sleeve. “Oh. Jesus I’m a mess.” She laughs, but the tears break anyway, and she can only imagine her face is smudged up, too. “M’sorry, this is all so stupid. I’m getting upset over everything lately.”

“It’s not stupid if you’re upset,” Robin points out with sincerity.

She only shakes her head, sliding her glasses back over her makeup stained eyes, “It’s all good, I know you— you were just kidding. Sorry ‘bout that.” She picks her project back up, hands trembling a little. “This whole flare up has me ridiculously emotional, but gimme five minutes and I’ll be fine.”

While Frankie keeps her focus to the flower chain she’s working on, Robin glances over at Steve, worried. They’ve been best friends for so long now, they can read each other’s faces with ease. He just nods subtly at her, and she pushes up off of the blanket.

“Is anyone else hungry? I’m gonna find those two goofballs, and maybe we can grab food somewhere?” Robin wanders off, not waiting for a response.

When she’s out of earshot, Frankie grumbles, “If she left so you can ask what’s wrong, I’m fine.” A flower’s stem is crushed between her fingers as they twitch involuntarily. “I know you mean well, but I really don’t want you to waste all your energy worrying about me.”

“‘Key… it’s not a waste.” Nothing’s ever a waste with you. “Please don’t shut me out.”

“What is there to talk about? I’m not shutting you out, Steve. It’s just the same shit, you don’t need to hear me cry about it all the time.” Her tone is frantic as her fingers won’t stop shaking, yet she won’t pause from connecting the flowers.

Steve doesn’t miss the way she bites her lip before it can pout, or how she’s staving off tears, features scrunching in frustration. “If it helps to talk about it more than once, I’m listening, and maybe if you started treatment again—“

“Drop it, stop trying to get me to go. I’m fine, just— everything hurts. A lot. Okay? See? Nothing different from what’s been happening since this all start— shit!”

Frankie drops her pocket knife, grabbing her own hand as a bead of crimson bubbles up along the pad of her thumb. She stares as a trickle of blood winds down her thumb, onto her palm. Steve quickly inches closer, about to reach for her hand, but she reels back.

Grabbing the edge of her black skirt, she blots the laceration, pressure included. “Why am I so fucking…”

Steve’s not tired of Frankie, nor is he tired of anything related to her health and this current flare up, but he is tired of this stubborn mindset she refuses to release. It’s difficult to be open with her about his bad health days when she won’t do the same in return, like they promised one another.

Rummaging through his bag, Steve pulls out a small pencil case, one he’s converted into a mini first-aid kit. He can’t remember when he made it, or if he’s ever gone without it since, but it’s useful for moments like this. Frankie notices, brows furrowing.

“Steve, m’fine—“

He ignores her weakened protest, one that sounds like a broken record at this point, grabbing her hand. It’s a firm grip, but nothing threatening, still tender somehow with its intentions. Cleaning her wound with a disinfectant wipe, she hisses at the sting.

“You don’t have to baby me.”

Again, Steve ignores her, trying to stay composed against her forced pride. He bandages the laceration, but doesn’t let go of Frankie.

“I don’t get why you’re pushing me away suddenly. Did…” Steve’s struggling to keep his emotions to himself, but they’ve been building for quite some time now. He can’t stand how his voice cracks as he asks, “Did I do something wrong?” 

This isn’t about me. Stop. Stop it. Grow up.

Frankie wildly shakes her head, “No, absolutely not. I- I promise you’re fine.”

“What’s going on then? Look, if you need space, I can give you th—“

Her fingers, still trembling, tighten around his own. “Please don’t,” Her bottom lip quivers into a pout. “Can we talk later? When you come over? Just you and me.” She scrambles to elaborate, voice cracking, “I’m not ready to to talk about it with anyone else.” 

“Okay, yeah,” He nods, squeezing her hand as his anxiety sinks like a stone in his stomach. “Whenever you’re comfortable.”

Reaching for the unfinished chain of flowers, Steve stops Frankie, moving the knife away before closing it.

“I was gonna finish it for you,” She’s desperate for a distraction, desperate to keep herself busy so her thoughts don’t eat her alive.

“Not after practically stabbing yourself, honey.”

Stop calling her that. You’re just friends.

With a huff and an eye roll, she wipes any remaining tears away before commanding, “Fine. Lay down.”

“Wh- what?”

She points to her thigh, unused flowers in her other hand. “You won’t let me finish your crown, and I need to keep busy.”

Steve immediately understands what she’s saying; he knows how fidgety she becomes when anxious and overthinks. Hesitantly, he lays back, head resting on her leg while glancing up at her, squinting from the sky’s bright reflection behind her.

One by one, Frankie takes each wildflower, sticking them in his hair. Her touch is soft, fingers carding through his hair between each flower; Steve can feel her relax, and he does the same.

A comfortable silence blankets them, one that neither dares to break.

ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ

As Frankie and Steve’s lives intertwined, they both ended up with a copy of a key for one another’s apartments. They were originally only for medical emergencies if necessary after Steve’s big medical scare, and Frankie’s worst flare up yet; now those copies are used often to let themselves in for routine plans.

It’s Friday night, Dustin and Eddie started up Hellfire again at a local board game shop, and Robin works at a gay bar down the street on Fridays and Saturdays; Steve got tired of moping inside, alone on the weekends. What started as last minute plans for Frankie and Steve on a quiet Friday night turned into a weekly routine. They fell into a pattern of alternating between their places each time, and tonight’s plans were at Frankie’s apartment.

When Steve lets himself in with a couple movie tapes and a pizza, he’s met with Frankie running down the hall, groaning in frustration, pair of scissors in hand. Steve sets everything onto the coffee table in her living room, eyes locked on her frantic behavior.

“Whoa— didn’t anyone tell you running with scissors is dangerous?” He tries cracking a joke, but Frankie’s spiraling, consumed by her thoughts. 

“Steve, I- I can’t fucking take it anymore.”

His eyes widen before he follows her down the hall and into the bathroom. She throws the pair of scissors into the sink, diving into the cabinet below before haphazardly throwing its contents onto the floor, in search of something.

“Talk to me, what’s going on?” He crouches down, resting a comforting hand on her back as her shoulders slink down. She pulls out a pair of clippers before letting herself relax under his touch.

“I feel so stupid getting upset over this,” She mutters, ducking her head into her knees as she folds forward on the floor. “Why does everything have to be so hard?”

Frankie shudders, suppressing the wave of tears that want to crash. Steve gently pulls her upward and into a hug, allowing her to collapse in his arms.

“Is it anything I can help with?”

She shakes her head, then pauses. “I mean, you have before, but I- I’m so— I can’t keep relying on others to help me all the time. I miss being independent.”

Steve knows how that feels, he knows what it’s like to feel as if you’re a burden to everyone around you, just because your health is out of your control. Realistically, it’s far from the truth, but when the world isn’t built to include disabled and chronically ill people, too, it’s hard to believe otherwise.

“Do you want advice, or comfort? Do you need space?” He’s learned asking this is better for the other person, rather than assuming and diving into unsolicited advice. Frankie trusts him, though, and would gladly listen to him anyway. 

She’s quiet for a moment, pulling back to look Steve in the eye. His heart aches at the exhaustion in her eyes, the bags under them, carrying deep, dark circles; she hadn’t been sleeping well this week, and it was really catching up to her.

“I really needed to wash my hair, but it’s so much work,” Out of habit, she begins to fidget with the end of her braid, loosely wound and hanging over her shoulder; her fingers freeze after a second, glancing down at it nervously before pulling her hands away. “I kept dropping everything in the shower, and got dizzy from the heat and everything just— just—- it was overwhelming. I didn’t get to finish washing it, and I feel so gross.”

“Well, hey, I don’t mind washing it over the tub for you—“

“Steve, you’re a sweetheart, and I’m always grateful for your help, but you’re struggling, too. It’s not fair to expect you to help always.”

He remembers the scissors she threw into the sink, then glances to the clippers. “Were you gonna cut your hair?”

She looks down at her braid, pouting with a soft nod. 

“But I kept chickening out,” She whispers, unable to look Steve in the eye again. “What if I look awful?”

Perplexed is Steve as he remembers the photos Frankie showed him from her high school days, just as cute in a pixie cut as she is with long hair now. “You’d have to really try your hardest to look awful.”

She scoffs out a laugh, “Kiss-ass.”

“I mean it, ‘Key,” Steve’s thumb and forefinger reach out to hold her chin, bringing her gaze back to him. “You could pull off anything.”

“You won’t think I’m ugly?” Steve’s face drops as the words hit his ears. “It’s just— I—“ She rolls her eyes at herself, “It’s only hair, why am I so upset?”

“I’d never think that, first of all. And second, my opinion on your looks is irrelevant. Fuck anyone’s opinion, honestly. You do what you want, Frankie. I’ll support whatever you decide.” Steve wishes she could see the natural beauty she radiates, from the inside out. Self esteem issues are different when you’re in constant pain. Everything can be attached to how you feel, and it’s easy to tumble down the slippery slope of self loathing when your body works against you, from the inside out.

Steve continues, “And it’s a big change, it’s understandable to be upset while you decide. Maybe it’s good to sleep on it, think it over. If you still want to tomorrow, then go for it.”

Frankie’s eyes gloss over, pout trembling. “I still gotta wash it, though… and if I cut it, it seems silly to wash it all, then let that effort to go to waste.”

Steve shrugs, like the answer is obvious. “Told you, I’ll help.”

Minutes later, after returning everything back where it belongs, Frankie’s leaning her head back over the tub, with plenty of towels under her neck to make it a tad comfier. Steve’s gently scrubbing shampoo along her roots when he notices a small bald spot. Then another… And another.

“‘Key… why didn’t you tell me you were losing hair?” It was hard for him to see before, with how thick her hair naturally is, but it’s enough to alarm him now that its visible. He remembers the clippers she pulled out of the cabinet. “Wait, you’re gonna shave your hair off? All of it?”

She only nods blankly. “I don’t know what else to do, Steve. This hasn’t happened in years.” As she speaks, stray strands come out in tiny clumps here and there. “Not since that awful flare up I told you about.” 

Steve doesn’t make a scene, just continues washing her hair with cautious, gentle hands.

“Well,” His glasses slide down his nose a little too far, but he can’t fix them with his hands all sudsy; he’s trying so hard to be better about wearing them more often. She notices, reaching up to gently push them back up the bridge of his nose. He chuckles softly. “Thanks.”

“You were saying?”

Steve’s silent for a moment, catching up to his thoughts again. “Oh, right. I was gonna say, just go for it. Sure, it suits you, a- and I like braiding it for you,” He blushes slightly. “But y’know how badass you’ll look? And how fun it’ll be rubbing your fuzzball head?”

“As long as your hands are still on me,” Frankie teases, but realizes a moment too late how it sounds. Steve can’t catch the snort leaving him in time, while Frankie’s eyes grow wide, mortified. “Oh— no, wait, not like— jesus— I don’t mean it like that. I’m sorry. That was gross.”

“Francesca, we’re having a moment, and you go and ruin it with your mind in the gutter,” Steve cracks back, earning an eye roll while a smile cracks across her face.

Settling into a comfortable silence, Frankie breaks it, “You think I should just… get it done and over with?”

Steve pretends to ponder as he rinses the suds from her hair; a few more tiny bundles of hair flow towards the drain, but he keeps his cool, for her sake. Deep down, he’s worried, but he doesn’t want to upset her any further.

“I think… you should do whatever feels right, but—“ He slowly lifts her head, gingerly scrunching the towel around her hair to sop up the water. “I also think you’ll feel a little better if you eat something first. Pizza break?”

Her eyes grow wide as she laughs, embarrassed, “Oh my god, I forgot, I’m so sorry! My dumb hair can wait.”

 Once the pizza is reheated and they’re settled on the couch, they play one of the movies for background noise. Frankie pipes up, “Hey, Steve?”

He’s mid bite, hitting a blob of cheese that’s way too hot, burning the roof of his mouth, wincing at the sting. “Ow, hothothot—-“ Rather than spiting it out, he swallows the scorching hot food, frowning comically as it burns down his throat.

“Oh— that’s,” Frankie’s trying her best to keep a straight face; she’s concerned, but he brought it on himself. She shoves his iced tea towards him, which he gratefully takes and gulps down. “Steve, you gotta have like, second degree burns in your throat at this point. You always do that.”

“And I’ll do it again next week, too,” He quips before shrugging. “What were you gonna say?”

“Hm? Oh. I- I just wanted to say thank you, for earlier. With everything.” She’s normally not shy like this, especially this far into the friendship with Steve, even with the flirting. But the vulnerability is more than she’s comfortable with, and he can tell. “And I’m sorry for putting you on the spot like that.”

“Like what?”

“Asking if I’d look bad. I swear I wasn’t fishing for a compliment—“

He sets his plate aside, intending to reach out for her face like earlier, but he remembers the pizza grease on his fingers still, and decides against it. 

“You didn’t put me on the spot, or anything like that. I’d be upset too if I was losing hair. Maybe not as much as my high school self but— that- okay, that doesn’t matter here. Point is, you’re allowed to be upset, ‘Key, but also I meant it when I said you’d look badass. Like, Tank Girl badass.”

“Surprised you even know who Tank Girl is,” She teases, but gifts him her signature, warm smile. “Thanks, Steve. I owe you for all of this, big time.”

“You owe me nothing,” Steve sincerely replies, then remembers, “Well, you do owe me that mixtape you’ve been hyping up for months.”

Her hand covers her mouth after taking a bite of her pizza, trying not to respond with her mouth full. She holds the other hand up in a ‘One minute!’ gesture, before leaving the couch. She’s only gone for a moment, returning with a cassette tape, handing it over to Steve.

The tape is wrapped in old newspaper, with holographic stickers slapped all over it, donning her shaky, but sweet handwriting on a tag that says “For Steve”.

He feels a warmth wash over his face, blushing and unable to hold back a smile.

“Can I play it now?”

“No!” Her own exclamation takes her by surprise, sheepishly adding. She laughs it off and waves her hand. “I- I mean, just… wait ‘til you’re on your way home, at least.”

Steve doesn’t push it, doesn’t want to make her uncomfortable; he gets it, sometimes there’s something awkward about gifting something to someone, and watching them open it in real time. He just makes a point to throw it in his messenger bag, tucked into a safe pocket inside.

“Thanks, Frankie.” He smiles warmly at her, earning a rise of rosiness to her cheeks. “I’m excited to listen to it.”

ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ

The pair of scissors are open wide, caging in Frankie’s messy braid. Her hand shakes, and Steve watches as she frowns, shaking her head before throwing the scissors into the sink.

“I can’t do it.” She looks at Steve behind her through the mirror. “I need to, but once it’s gone…”

“Yeah, but it can always—“

“Steve, don’t tell me it’ll grow back. If it even does grow back, it’ll be all patchy and uneven.” She pushes herself to ask, cheeks growing red, “Last thing I’ll ask help with, I promise, but can— would you do it for me?”

His features falter, unsure. “I don’t mind helping, really, I don’t—”

“But?”

He sighs, “This is so personal for you, I really think you should be the one to do it. At least cutting the length off.” As Frankie fidgets with the ends of her braid, ignoring the strands of hair coming loose between her fingertips, an idea hits Steve. “I can help, though.”

Before she can ask what he means, Steve comes up behind Frankie, gently turning her toward the mirror again before reaching for the scissors. He hands them over to her, and hesitantly, she takes them, fingers gripping through the handles. What she doesn’t expect is his hand to slide over hers, mirroring the position.

“This okay?” He can feel her hand shake underneath his, but he assumes it’s from her tremors.

It’s not.

“Um— uh-huh,” She manages to rasp out; why this has her so flustered when he helped her wash her hair earlier makes no sense to her.

Steve guides her hand holding the scissors to the braid, starting just above the hair tie at the end. 

“We can start slow, okay?”

“Okay,” She takes a deep breath, clamping her eyes shut. Steve chuckles softly.

“‘Key, it’s not safe to use scissors with your eyes shut.”

Her eyes snap open, narrowing into slits at him into the mirror, lips parting to shoot a smart-ass comment, but she forgets it immediately. With a scoff, she mutters, “Fucking brain fog.”

Steve can’t help laughing, burying his face into the top of head. “M’sorry, I was bracing myself for the worst, didn’t expect that.”

His laugh is contagious to her, and she giggles along with an eye roll. “Yeah, neither was I. Guess you’ve been spared.” He settles down, but she can’t.

“Francesca.” He tries being stern, but the corners of his lips curl upward. “Get it together.”

“Okay, okay!” She takes a few deep breaths. “You gotta stop using my full name like that.”

“Why? Is it bugging you? I can stop.” Steve’s face falls a little, but she looks away from his gaze in the reflection.

“No, I’m gonna end up liking it with the way you say it,” She grumbles, not mad, but embarrassed. She misses the way Steve’s cheeks turn a rosy pink. “Let’s get this over with.”

“Okay.” He’s so close, she’s trying to ignore how his chest feels so warm against her back, focusing on moving her hand with his to close the blades together slowly. It’s a slow snip through her hair; despite losing it, it’s still thick enough to take a bit to get through.

Frankie’s eyes follow the chunk of hair as it tumbles to the floor. 

“Okay… alright, that wasn’t so bad. B- but don’t let go yet.” She breathes, finally locking eyes with Steve in the mirror. “Please.”

“It’s okay, I got you.” 

Moving the scissors up her braid, she stops his hand where her shoulder begins. 

“Ready?” He asks, and she nods. Again, they cut through her hair together. More falls to the floor, leaving Frankie with shoulder length hair.

“God… I can’t remember the last time my hair was this short.”

“You wanna stop here?”

“One more time?” She lifts her hand, palm facing down, using the side as she taps the side of her head above her ear. With a nod, he’s about to move their hands together when he hesitates, brows scrunching together as he thinks. “Steve, you okay?”

“Might be easier like— here, hold these—“ Frankie takes the scissors from Steve before he grabs a spare hair tie from the counter, pulling what’s left of her hair back. “Maybe even’s the right word, not easier. My bad… Can you reach back here?” He splits the ponytail, gently tugging the ends to tighten the hair tie.

She shrugs, arms still aching from her attempt at washing her hair earlier. Steve is about to take the scissors back, but her grip tightens. Again, she shakes her head.

“Gonna push through it,” She mutters, stepping away from Steve to keep the scissors at a safe distance. She lifts her arms back, one to hold the ponytail out, the other with the scissors. 

Her hands shake, and this time, it’s the tremors; they won’t quit, and Steve being Steve, he immediately wants to help, but hesitates. Just like the day he met her. He knows how frustrating it can be when someone jumps in to help, assuming just because you’re not able-bodied, you can’t do anything on your own. 

She waits, holding her hands back for a few seconds, then pulling them back in front of her. “I can’t. I’m gonna end up bald and missing fingers,” She tries to laugh it off, but she’s visibly upset. The need to ask for assistance is barricaded off by her pride.

Steve knows Frankie well enough by now to tell what she’s thinking; he reaches around her for the scissors, gingerly pulling them from her grip. He does his best to pay no mind to the close proximity, but he does notice the way Frankie gets goosebumps when his breath hits her neck.

That means nothing, quit overthinking it.

“Ready?”

She nods, “Mhm—“

“‘Key, keep your damn head still,” He uses his free hand to grasp the back of her head, laughing as he splays his palm open, fingers wide as he easily steadies her. “Little miss bobble-head.”

She stifles a laugh, nodding with a deep breath. “Okay. Go for it.”

Steve moves swiftly, before either of them fall into a fit of giggles once more; with a quick snip, Frankie’s small ponytail is gone. She’s left with an uneven, disheveled haircut, shaking her head to get the loose hairs out. 

“I dunno, Steve, I think we’re done. Looks totally presentable.” Her eyes lock with his in the mirror for what feels like the millionth time that night; the two of them splitting into a fit of laughter all over again.

“Yeah, Frankie, you’re— …” He loses his teasing remark in an instant; even with her hair unkempt among the patchy bald spots, even with fatigue weighing heavy on her features, her smile and personality peek through with ease. She’s beautiful, always, from the inside out, and he’s positively fucked.

“I’m… ?”

“Nothin’.” Steve nods over to the clippers on the sink. He clears his throat, hoping the warmth blooming across his face isn’t noticeable; it’s not just noticeable, it’s hard to miss. “You need help with that part?”

Frankie gives him a skeptical look before grabbing the clippers, plugging them in to the nearby outlet. “Might need your help with the back, if that’s okay. Otherwise… can’t really fuck this part up, right?”

Steve breathily laughs with a nod, leaning back against the wall with his arms crossed. “Right.”

Shaking out her nerves— literally, looking like a wacky inflatable arm man— she laughs off the doubts, flipping the switch. She holds the clippers in front of her face, nearly going cross eyed— Jesus, she’s cute, Steve thinks with a faint smile; holding it up to her hairline, she stares at herself in the mirror while pushing the clippers right down the middle of her head.

“Can’t go back if I make myself look like a fool, can I?” She laughs, muttering to herself, but Steve still catches it.

 He watches as she stays focused, running the clippers through more hair; with each glide of the device along her scalp, her breath grows shallow, short. Steve anticipates the panic to start, but it never comes; a tear slips, then another, trailing through the little loose hairs scattered across her face, but she’s not upset. It’s a huge change, and Steve expected this to be emotional, but he doesn’t expect her lips to curl upward, ever so slightly.

A good chunk of Frankie’s hair is buzzed down on the left side, and she continues on, releasing a shaky, breathy laugh. “Holy shit.”

“How do you feel?” He asks over the monotone buzzing, filling the room. 

“Like a damn mess, but… good.”

He’s not thinking when a soft, “Atta girl” slips out; the simple praise turns Frankie’s face a cherry red.

“Can’t say shit like that to me,” She murmurs, working on shaving another stripe down her head. Steve’s left with scrambling thoughts, wondering if she means what he thinks she means.

Boldly, he’s about to ask why, but her hand begins to shake. Steve steps in, about to grab the clippers, but pauses. He doesn’t want to overstep boundaries, or make her feel helpless, because she’s not. 

As if she can read his mind, she tells him, “It’s okay, Stevie. I trust you.” 

Steve takes over, gliding the clippers along the spots Frankie couldn’t reach earlier. Though he’s a little faster than she was, he still takes his time, checking in with her every so often to make sure she’s doing alright. First time she tries to nod, but Steve gives a playful glare through the mirror, and she laughs, until his fingers grip the back of her head, this time closer to her neck. The smile on her face drops, and the blush returns.

Under his fingers, Steve feels her shiver, but doesn’t visibly react, just continues to run over her prickly scalp, making sure the buzzed down hair is completely even. When he flicks the power off, and the buzzing halts, Frankie reaches up to her head, rubbing along the freshly buzzed skin. It’s prickly and textured, and some spots where patches once lay are still a little noticeable, but it’s not bothersome anymore. She can finally gain some peace now that she won’t have to try hiding hair loss anymore.

“See? Told ya’,” Steve smiles warmly at her, gently brushing off the stray baby hairs from her shoulders. He leans closer to her ear, causing her breath to hitch. “You definitely look like a badass.” She playfully pushes her shoulder back into him with an eye roll.

Finally, she turns around, leaning against the sink, glancing up at Steve, face to face. 

“Thank you, Steve.” She presses up on the balls of her feet to swing her arms around his shoulders, hugging him tightly. Steve blushes— because that’s all they seem to be able to do over one another tonight. His arm curls around her waist, hand pressed against the small of her back, while the other reaches to cradle the back of her head.

“Don’t thank me, you did the hardest part.”

“What, crying?” She makes fun of herself with a giggle.

“No, you were brave to take care of yourself, even if it was hard and the last thing you wanted to do.”

“Steve, don’t you dare start with the sappy shit,” She warns, but he can hear the smile in her voice. She doesn’t let go, and he doesn’t want to. Despite constantly joking how cold she gets, Steve notices how warm her embrace is. 

“How do you have a perfectly shaped head?” Steve murmurs, running his large hand over Frankie’s now freshly shaved scalp. She giggles as the sensation of his fingers so close to her skin, it feels so foreign. 

“What?” She pulls back, smiling, and he has to suppress the reaction to frown over the loss of her arms around him. 

“Yeah, like, c’mere,” He gently pulls her hand, resting it at the back of his head, slowly guiding it along his own scalp. The pads of her fingers ghost over some uneven dips and bumps on the back of his head. “Feel that?”

Frankie giggles some more, “Steve, were you dropped as a kid or something?” He’s fine with the teasing, the two of them do this often to one another. But when she reaches further up out of curiosity, her fingers graze a scar, thick and rugged along his scalp. “Shit, I’m sorry.” Startled, she goes to pull away, but her fingers get tangled in his hair, accidentally pulling a little too hard.

Steve whimpers, eyes darting away, and Frankie freezes while her gaze grows wide, glued to him.

The tension settling in the air around them is suffocating; one of those “you could hear a pin drop” kind of moments. It’s only a few seconds, but it feels like an eternity to Steve.

“I- uh—“ He clears his throat, eyes darting away, then back to her, instantly turning bright red. “S- sorry.”

Rather than shrug it off, or politely accept the apology, Frankie says with a small glint in her eye, “Good to know.” She leaves Steve in the bathroom, all alone and flustered. He sighs, louder than he means to.

“Whose mind is in the gutter now?” She sing-songs from the end of the hall. She’s only gone for a moment before returning with a vacuum cleaner, biting her lip to hold back her laugh as she finds Steve rubbing his eyes with his fingers, hand sliding under his glasses. “M’gonna clean this up quick and shower… again.” She rolls her eyes at herself. 

Steve nods, exiting the bathroom as her voice follows, “Pick the next movie, I’ll be quick, I promise.”

“Do you want he—“ He cringes at himself, catching his words a bit too late as he realizes how they sound. 

“Do I want your help? In the shower?” Frankie smirks while she plugs the vacuum in; that look she gives is going to be the death of him. “Gonna have to find a more clever line than that if you wanna see me naked.”

“Wh— that’s not—“ Steve sputters, feeling his entire body burn up under her gaze. “I wasn’t saying it like that, I swear!”

Frankie flips the vacuum on, cupping her ear towards him comically, shrugging like she can’t hear him. She shouts over the noise, “What was that?”

Steve rolls his eyes with a dramatic sigh, flipping her off playfully before heading down the hallway. Right as he’s about to be out of earshot, he hears a muffled, “Maybe later, if you’re lucky!”

He thinks of everything, anything that isn’t Frankie; he presses the heels of his palms into his eyes, shoving his glasses onto his head. The sound of running water floats down the hall, and Steve takes the opportunity to sigh his frustration out. Flopping into the couch’s cushions, he’s trying to think of anything to stop the rush of blood and heat ready to run south.

Currently, there’s no room in Steve’s mind for anything else other than Frankie.

I’m so, so fucked.

ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ

Steve should’ve stayed.

He wanted to. He really, really wanted to stay at Frankie’s— it’s not uncommon for one to crash at the other’s place on movie nights— but, in Frankie’s terms, he “couldn’t get his mind out of the gutter”— There was just no way he could stay without embarrassing himself. Making up some excuse Frankie saw right through about needing to get home, reluctantly, he left.

Frankie is his friend, he can’t ruin what they have with his desires. But he’s torn, because it’s more than just fleeting lust, he likes her. Really, really likes her.

Sometimes, Steve wishes he could say he hates how easily their bodies meshed together, how casual it was to cuddle with one another, fall asleep in one another’s arms. That he hates how cute Frankie looks when she drools a little in her sleep. Or that he hates the sweet balance she carries between positivity and realism— always leaving room for the bright side and reality’s facts. He wants to hate both her gentle and sharp laughs, the off-key way she sings softly to herself while keeping busy; her self confidence, the warmth in her smile that always reaches her eyes, despite their cool grey tones—

He’s lying to himself. He could never find himself actually wanting to dislike Frankie in the slightest. There’s not a damn thing about her that bothers him.

Nothing, except for the fact that to Steve, she’s perfect in the way she embraces her imperfections, her quirks, her flaws, her strengths— it’s all only drawing him into her more and more as time carries on. Frankie is perfect as a friend alone, and that’s just something he can’t afford to put on the line for the sake of his feelings. Feelings that are most likely one sided.

Even after the comments about a date made months ago, on the precipice of slumber, Steve still can’t tell if Frankie was joking or not. Or if she called him “babe” after a nightmare just to be nice. Same with the innocent kiss left on the top of his head. He’s completely puzzled, left to wonder if he’s overthinking it all, or if the signs are really there.

Tonight didn’t make any of this easier to untangle and make sense of, either.

Feeling fine enough to walk home and enjoy the warm night, Steve skips jumping on public transit; maybe the fresh air would do him some good, clear his head. When he reaches in his bag for his Walkman, his hand brushes against a cassette case— the mixtape Frankie made for him.

Avidly, he tears the upcycled wrapping paper off, admiring the mixtape’s DIY cover art.

With a clumsy grip, he nearly drops the case, catching it in time to glance over the cover she made, resembling the punk show flyers tacked on her bedroom walls; the style’s true to her character. Eager to listen, he pops the tape into his player for his return trip.

What he doesn’t expect is to hear Frankie’s voice flood through his headphones.

“I know what you’re thinking, ‘this girl cannot shut the fuck up, huh?’” Her laugh instantly graces a smile across Steve’s face, shuffling his feet along the concrete as they carry him home. “I swear, there’s music on this tape, but I wanted to say something first.” Steve’s brows knit together, listening carefully. “I promised you months ago I’d make a mixtape of mostly songs and bands you haven’t heard yet, but some are gonna be familiar to you. That’s … intentional.”

There’s a soft hum of static, filling in a short gap of silence. 

“I kept putting this off, ‘cause I got this idea shortly after your hospital trip, but I was too much of a scaredy cat to go for it. Felt too soon.”

“What felt too soon?” Steve mutters to himself, as if she can hear him.

“You’ll pick up on it, I know you will. You always amaze me with the details you notice that no one else does.” Frankie sighs, does one of the countless things Steve finds cute about her; she blows air through her lips, making ‘pbbbbbtttt’ sounds, like when she’s stuck on her own thoughts. “It’s been hard trying to tell you this myself, so… m’gonna let the music do the talking for me. Just do two things for me, please?”

He braces himself, because what on earth would Frankie be so afraid to tell him in person? What would she need to hide behind a tape for?

“Listen the entire way through, and when you’re done,” She takes a deep breath, letting out a nervous giggle. “If we’re not on the same page, and I’m just some delusional freak, promise me we’ll still be friends?”

Steve stops dead in his tracks, breath caught in the back of his throat. Is she—

There’s a harsh click, abruptly rushing in an unfamiliar song after her intro. His eyes bounce around his surroundings in a hurry, landing on a bench a few feet away. Once Steve’s settled on it, he flips the case over, looking for a tracklist—

It’s not a complete tracklist. Just a list of the artists in chronological order.

“‘Key, are you kidding me?” Steve grumbles to himself, shaking his head while a smile’s curling along his lips. 

A lyric from a Dinosaur Jr. song catches his attention, stretching his smile into a grin. 

“The weirdness flows between us / Anyone can tell to see us”

Scribbled on the bottom of the list is her scratchy handwriting:

You’ll get the titles later! 

-Frankie ♡

Steve’s hopes begin to rise, but he forces himself to squash them immediately. There’s no way, there’s no fucking way this is what I think it is. I’m just thinking too far into it.

Three minutes into the next song, by my bloody valentine, Steve’s still on the bench. 

How long is this one? Jesus Christ.

It’s not bad, but he can’t make out the words, and god, it feels like this one’s going to last forever. Silently, he’s cursing Frankie for adding this to the mix. Maybe this song would be great to listen to while stoned out of his mind on the floor, but not right now, not when he’s antsy to figure out exactly what this tape’s all about. He’ll have to ask her for the lyrics later.

Track #3 by Fugazi is good, and the lyrics are a gut punch from the start.

“I am a patient boy / I wait, I wait, I wait, I wait / My time, water down a drain / Everybody’s moving / Everybody’s moving / Everybody’s moving, moving, moving, moving / Please don’t leave me to remain / In the waiting room—“

Steve loses track of the words from there; he’s never been the best at keeping up with the fast paces of some punk songs, but he gets the point.

Track #4— a Kate Bush song—  is one he’s heard before, courtesy of Max always playing Kate Bush’s discography, even after surviving Vecna’s torture. He can’t remember the name, but he remembers it’s off the album The Dreaming, and the lyric “We let the weirdness in” has him curious as to why Frankie chose this song, wondering why it’s another song leaning into the word ‘weird’.

All pondering halts when he immediately recognizes the Bruce Springsteen song— Crush on You. His breath hitches in his throat while the familiar song from The River plays on. The lyrics and title are self explanatory.

… Maybe I’m not overthinking it.

He’s unsure when he began walking again, but he’s already halfway home when he realizes it. The trip by foot on a good pain day is 10-15 minutes, but at the pace he’s speed walking, he can easily make it home in 5.

The next three songs by Jawbreaker, Green Day, and X are songs he’s never heard before, but recognizes the style of each band from the times Frankie plays her own mixtapes in the store. 

The repetition of “I want you” over and over in the Jawbreaker song begins to fizzle out his doubts. The entirety of the song by Green Day is even more obvious, but “I know that we’re only friends / I hope this feeling never ends / If I could only hold you / it’s the only thing I want to do” makes his heart jump.

“Holy shit,” He’s frozen on the stairway to his floor as the words float into his ears. “… She likes me.”

She feels the same. Frankie feels the same.

It’s the opening lyrics of the X song that cause the last of his doubts disappear, rushing down the hallway to his apartment. 

“Now if you love me, please don’t tease / If I can hold you then let me squeeze / My heart goes ‘round and ‘round / My love comes a-tumblin’ down.”

Steve promised he’d call Frankie once he made it home safe— they do this every time one leaves the other. Now all he can think about is of is calling her to confess his feelings instead. He’s fumbling with his keys, dropping them a couple times, and bangs his head on the door when he tries to pick them up; the door swings open, with Robin glancing down at him, a brow quirking over his frantic demeanor. 

“I thought someone was trying to politely break in,” She cracks while moving aside for him to come in. Steve begins pacing in circles as he tugs his headphones off, staring at Robin, stunned. “Whoa, dude, what happened? You good?”

It barely comes off as a whisper, rushed out like a dream that’ll disappear the more he focuses on it. “Shelikesmeback.”

“Who— what— I’m too tired to decipher what you just—“

From the position his headphones are around his neck, he faintly makes out opening notes of Sweetest Thing by U2. A bright smile appears among his features, despite the love song’s bittersweet, realistic meaning; it’s one Frankie always teases him for enjoying.

Holy. Shit.

“She likes me, Robin. Frankie likes me.” Saying it out loud, to someone other than himself, sounds far too good to be true. Despite how surreal it feels to figure this out, he can’t suppress his still-growing grin. 

“I told you!” She grins, already antsy for details. “So, what happened?”

“She gave me—“

 “How’d you find out?”

Steve huffs, still winded from the run home, but also annoyed, “Because, she gave me a mix—“

“And why are you here?”

“Jesus Christ, Robin, let me answer one of those at least.”

“Okay, okay, sorry!” She rolls her wrist, hand circling in a “let’s go” gesture, as if she’s not the reason for the hold up.

Scrambling for the tape’s case, he holds it up to her, hand shaking from a flurry of emotions. “The— she made me a mixtape, a- and she said she’s using the music to tell me how she feels, ‘cause she’s too scared to tell me herself.”

“That’s actually really sweet,” Not a hint of sarcasm can be found in Robin’s words, but her face crinkles in confusion. “But you never answered my last question— you were just with her. Why aren’t you doing something about this?” She gives him a “duh” look and gestures her hands out, exasperated as he stands there, lost. “Steve, I swear if you don’t finally tell her how you feel—“

Now it hits him. “Oh my god… why did I— I have to— I’m such an idiot.” Eyes wide and jaw slack, he takes a moment to breathe deeply and collects his thoughts. He pulls her into a bear hug, one that takes her by surprise, leaving her in confused laughter. “Robin, you’re the best wing-woman ever.”

 As Steve rushes out the door, she shouts, “I did the bare minimum, but I’ll still take the award!”

Eddie opens the door across the hall from theirs, poking his head out along with Dustin. Steve’s already out of sight when Dustin asks, “What the hell is going on?” Eddie’s head snaps down the hall, then back to Robin with a quirked brow, expecting an explanation.

“Hang on, I’m getting popcorn, ‘cause we’re gonna gossip like nosy grandmas,” Robin snickers.

Steve’s already rushing down the stairs, unaware of the conversation he’s left behind, yet still a part of.

The following song on the mixtape has a familiar style— it’s Strawberry Switchblade, he recognizes the poppy goth style, giving Steve a boost in his step and energy to retrace his steps. The instrumentals are so upbeat, and the lyrics are cute, sweet, like Frankie. She’s played them in the shop before, but he’s unsure if this song ever came on through the stereo’s speakers. 

“In a kiss lies so much more than touch / And my life has found a new temptation / And ecstasy has meaning once again”

Wait—

This is the song she was singing along to the day Steve found her dancing while sweeping around the shop. Before he startled the living daylights out of her, accidentally ruining her moment of solitude. It makes him chuckle to think of that memory; that entire day— aside from her pain, pushing it aside with her pride— was so good to them both.

Exerting himself to run back will cost him for the rest of the week; his reward will be multiple high pain days, but Steve doesn’t care. All that matters is getting back to Frankie, finally confessing feelings he always believed were one sided. 

“I find suddenly I'm closer to you / And I find all my wildest dreams / Have come true / While I spin round / My heart is beating for two / And I am wishing / It will always be you and I / You and I”

Winded already, Steve slows down, trying to pace himself and keep his heart from beating out of his chest.

Just a few more blocks. A few more, and I can tell her I feel the same, hold her, hopefully kiss her, finally.

That alone is enough to carry him the rest of the way, though he almost runs into the street without looking, until a car honks at him, yanking him away from his thoughts. He holds his hands up apologetically, cringing as the car speeds off.

Man, try not to die before you can tell Frankie how you feel.

Lovesong by The Cure is the next track, one Steve knows well. He doesn’t know many songs by The Cure, but he likes this one; warmth is blooming throughout his body over the clarity and certainty of Frankie’s feelings through the lyrics.

“Whenever I'm alone with you / You make me feel like I am home again / Whenever I'm alone with you / You make me feel like I am whole again”

If Steve was honest, he hasn’t felt completely at home since leaving Hawkins; the closest he’s felt to that has been with his friends, and now, with Frankie. She puts him at ease, reassures him that he’s safe and at home in his own skin.

Home and safety are two things he’s longed for, even while living in Hawkins. His home— his parents’ house— that never felt like a home. Not unless the party filled its empty shell. 

The rest of the way back blurs by, body on auto pilot as he finally catches her apartment up ahead.

He’s practically running down the hallway, tugging his headphones off his ears, while he’s too wrapped up in the moment to stop the tape; Dolly Parton’s voice faintly sings on as Frankie’s apartment door comes into view.

“Say goodnight while there's still a star to wish on / Say goodnight while the moon is still in your eyes / Let me touch your smile and hold you for awhile / Then say goodnight, but never say goodbye”

Steve pumps the brakes, hesitating as he reaches the door; they welcome themselves into one another’s apartments all the time now. But this feels different, this is different, and what if he intrudes at a bad time? What if she’s asleep already?

Ignoring his worries tumbling like an avalanche, his hand shoots out for the doorknob, spare key at the ready, but he hovers above it. He can’t bring himself to unlock it, can’t pinpoint a clear reason against the second nature behavior.

Oh, fuck it.

He knocks rapidly, then regrets it in an instant. Chest still heaving, he tries settling down, calming his breaths before she can open the door.

I should just go in, I have a key, and knocking this late might startle her, and that would fucking suck, totally ruin the moment when I’m trying to tell her I feel the same—

The door creaks open, with a sleepy Frankie poking her head out; her freshly shaved head is covered by Steve’s hoodie, one he left behind weeks ago that she refuses to return. 

“… Steve?” She smiles, a little confused seeing him again; she rubs one of her eyes, hand covered by the sleeve, opening the door some more with the other— Christ, she’s fucking cute just by existing— “What’d you forget this time?”

Steve’s heartbeat is in his throat, blanking out as he locks his gaze with hers.

“I…”

Don’t freeze up now, say something!

“You…” Her smile falters a little, noticing how winded he still is. Opening the door wider, she steps closer to him, hand reaching for his arm as she leans out of the doorway. “Hey, are you okay?” Gently, she pulls him inside, softly shutting the door behind them.

Dolly’s voice floats out of his headphones, breaking the daze he began to fall in.

“Oh, it's easy now to tell you how I'm dreaming about tomorrow / Because you'll be there to share that dream with me / But now it's time to close your eyes, put this night away / And keep it safe, a perfect memory”

 Where it was hiding all this time, Steve’s unsure, but a flicker of confidence sparks within him, ignites him to make a move.

“D—“ He has to clear his throat, still catching his breath from running. “Didn’t get to say goodnight the way I’ve always wanted to.” Frankie’s too tired to catch on, not until Steve carefully backs her against the door, leaving little room between them.

While the last song plays out of his headphones, slung around his neck, he’s grabbing her by the waist with one hand, and the other cradles the side of her face; gently making its way to mold along the side of her neck, thumb ghosting along her jawline. She gasps softly as the two gravitate toward one another, foreheads pressed together, noses nudging against one another—

The dim apartment, the sounds of the city, the entire world begins to melt away for Steve; it’s just the two of them, bodies and hearts meeting the way he’s dreamed of for months now.

Lips tenderly colliding, it’s soft and sweet, affectionate smiles causing the two to giggle into the kiss. Frankie loosely grips the front of his shirt between her fingers, tugging him closer as her hands eventually slide up his chest, arms slinking around his shoulders.

It’s a cinematic, magical moment, if the lead roles were two disabled friends to lovers, anything but what mainstream romance films depict. No, this is real. It’s real, because Steve can tell the difference between Frankie’s usual tremors, and the way she’s trembling right now with excitement. It’s real, and he’s able to let the ever-growing ache in his body fall away, while his focus fixates on Frankie only. 

This is the truest form of affection Steve has ever felt for and with anyone, ever— and it’s real.

He takes one step back abruptly, still holding onto her as an avalanche of overthinking begins to tumble. “I shouldn’t have left earlier. Did I wake you up? I was gonna just let myself in, but then I panicked, and then I felt bad for knocking, ‘cause you were totally asleep, and I know you’re gonna be too nice to tell me—“

“Steve,” She breathes that same reassuring, smile-ridden, acknowledgement, and like every time before, he’s at ease. “I’m glad you left earlier— wait, no, hold on, that sounds mean—“

Steve starts laughing as her face turns red. 

“If you didn’t leave, you wouldn’t have listened to the tape!” She backs up a bit, hands falling to her hips as she tries to elaborate.

“Hm, I dunno,” His hand reaches out for hers, pulling it out of the sassy pose to tug her closer; she stays put, stance locked to the floor. “I would’ve snuck a listen if you fell asleep.”

“Oh, for— You know what I mean, Harrington!” She tries to come off pissed, but bursts into giggles right along with him. Sticking her tongue out, she flips him off while he catches a glimpse of her tongue piercing, jaw slack as he’s blushing like he did the first time all over again. Frankie smirks, aware of what he’s really looking at. “You wanna know what it feels like, don’t you?”

Steve nods with a strained, groaning reply, almost in a trance “I- yeah, I gotta know.” Her smile scrunches up her features as he leans back in; a nervous laugh slips out of him while his lips brush against hers, but once they meld together, everything feels so natural, so right.

The last time anything felt right to Steve was… god only knows when. He’s lost in his thoughts until Frankie’s lips part, slotting against his with ease. She boldly runs her tongue along his bottom lip, smirking as Steve makes a soft, airy whimper into her mouth. His knees feel weak as her tongue brushes against his, the stainless steel piercing giving a new sensation he’s never experienced in any kiss before this. Who knew a little piece of metal could make a kiss so dizzying?

It ends as quickly as it begins, with Frankie pulling back in giggles against Steve’s lips while a groan slips from him. “Holy shit…”

“Would’ve kissed you way sooner if I knew this silly piercing would make you weak at the knees.”

Playfully, Steve rolls his eyes, with a scoff to match. “Oh, like you didn’t have to use a mixtape to tell me how you feel.”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever.” She scrunches her face. “So… you’re staying, right?” At first, Steve thinks it’s a question backed by desire, but she cracks, “‘Cause you look like you’re about to pass out.” She squeaks out a laugh as he pulls her off the door.

“Shut up, ‘Key,” His lips are back on hers, initiating a deeper kiss; Frankie hums, and the vibrations against his own lips drives him wild. 

“Can we, uh—“ He’s a breathy mess, gaze falling to her lips, then finding her eyes again. Fatigue is creeping up on him, and though he wants to stay up all night with her, he knows they both need the sleep. Coherent, full sentences are lost on him as he only asks, “Bed?”

Frankie’s brows shoot up, tugging a teasing smirk along her face. “Oh? Damn, didn’t know you moved that fast.”

“No, wait— not— that’s not what I meant!” He’s flustered, shaking his head wildly. Frankie’s amusement only grows. “I- I- I don’t— god, that made me sound like such a dick—“

“Steve.” That’ll never get old, the way they both stop one another’s ramblings with a breath of the other’s name, followed by a comforting, tiny smile. “I’m only kidding. You’ve gotta be exhausted from running back, huh?”

He exhales relief, nodding. Even drained, he smiles at her tiredly, “So worth it though.”

“Yeah, we’re not working tomorrow, are we?”

Grinning sheepishly, he shrugs. “I can get us a ton of coffee—“

“Nope, it’s decided, shop’s closed tomorrow.”

Steve shakes his head, grin still hanging around. He’s got a feeling it could last a long time.

“I’ll make it up to you.”

“Yeah? How?”

“I… didn’t think that far yet, shut up.”

“Okay, sleepyhead, c’mon,” Hand lacing in his, she leads him to her bedroom, where he lets himself flop onto her mattress to finally rest. He sinks back into the pillows, legs hanging over the side as his eyes slip shut with a dazed sigh.

Frankie carefully removes his glasses to set on the nightstand, giggling, “Steve, you’re still— we’re not cuddling if you wear your damn jeans in my bed.”

Eyes still shut, Steve’s the one smirking now. “If you wanted to see me naked you could just ask, ‘Key.”

“You’re such a little shit.”

A weak retort dies on Steve’s tongue as he feels the laces of his sneakers come loose, shoes sliding off his feet. Frankie stands up, hands on her hips as he pushes himself to sit up. The tiny act of affection makes his heart swell.

“M’not taking your pants off,” She giggles, eyes falling down his figure. “Though, it’s tempting.”

Steve grumbles under his breath, unbuttoning his jeans and kicking them off, falling back onto the bed as he’s left in his boxers. His eyes begin to close again, until his legs are pushed apart; Frankie stands between them, watching a blush creep across his face with a smirk. Her hands take their time as they slide up his thighs, crawling onto the bed, ending up directly over him.

“Oh— wait, hey, what—“

Steve’s sure as hell wide awake now.

“H- hey,” He shudders nervously, hand wandering up to her face. Through her smile, she bites her lip, leaning down towards him.

“Hi,” She stifles a bout of giggles, noses barely touching, lips hovering over his. His breath hitches, eyelids growing hooded. “Steve, can I tell you something?”

He’s way too eager to respond, nodding quickly, bumping his nose against hers. The two groan from the gentle collision, dissolving into laughter while he murmurs a ‘sorry’.

“Y’can tell me anything,” He’s trying his hardest to keep his cool, but his wavering voice has to be a dead giveaway. “You know that, ‘Key.”

Frankie’s lips brush against his, and Steve’s too slow to catch her before she leans in closer to his ear, breath tickling along his lobe. 

“You’re in my spot, babe.”

She sits up, sleepy giggles escaping her as she rolls off of him. Steve exhales with an annoyed look, narrowing his stare at her as he slides over.

“Just when I thought you were trouble already,” He scoffs, slipping under the covers; his arms wind around her waist, pulling her into his embrace. 

“M’your favorite troublemaker though, huh?” Frankie nuzzles her head into the crook of his neck, limbs intertwining with his own. 

“I don’t know… you got three other knuckleheads to compete with.”

She scoffs, “You’re tough to please.”

“Oh, far from it, embarrassingly enough.”

Steve kisses the top of her head, hand slipping under the sweatshirt’s hood to softly graze his fingers along her buzzed head. She shivers under his touch.

“Sorry—“

She grabs his hand, holding it in place. “Don’t, it feels nice.” A ghost of a kiss lingers on his neck, coaxing a whimper out of him. She leaves another imprint of her lips behind, and another, taking her time as she works her way up his neck. She pauses at his jawline, murmuring against his skin, “This okay?”

“Mhm,” One hand slides to the back of her head, cradling it gently as the other wanders to the small of her back, tracing mindless patterns along her spine. Her trail of feather-light kisses continue along his jaw, to his chin, up to his lips. Eyes locking with his, she nudges her nose against his, lips barely touching again as he parts them with bated breath. 

“I like you, Steve.”

A lopsided grin pulls along his worn features. 

“I like you too, Frankie.”

She shakes her head, “No, I- I really like you. Like… a lot.”

Steve steals a quick kiss, admiring the way her cheeks heat up, blush running strong under her butterfly rash. Somehow, their connection feels the same, and yet completely new all at once. Uncharted territory with the one he trusts his heart with the most.

“And I like you a—“

“No.” 

“No?” 

Frankie sighs shakily, “M’so bad with words.” She kisses him, lips lingering a little longer than he did prior. “And I’m—“ Another kiss. “I’m so… I’m really scared to say it.” She doesn’t elaborate, doesn’t give him the chance to ask what she means when she kisses him again; she moves with grace at first, Steve following her lead. They move together so fluidly, but a renewed desire takes over, slipping her tongue into his mouth as her hands grip his shirt, balling the fabric into her fists. 

Steve can feel her piercing against his tongue, immediately growing dizzy from the heightened sensation that damned little piece of metal brings. The strong hand on her back circles to her hip, fingers kneading the plush curve along her body. This time, Frankie’s the one to make a needy noise, whining into the kiss. He pulls away, despite his body screaming at him to mold into hers again.

“You can say it,” Steve murmurs against her lips, half in a whisper. Her arms slink around his shoulders, fingers toying with the soft tendrils of hair at the nape of his neck. “S’okay, I’m scared too.” 

She winds a lock of hair around her fingers, then another, tugging ever so slightly, enough to make him shiver.

“Y’feel the same?” 

Steve nods slowly, lips melding into Frankie’s, with a hum of a “mhm” vibrating into her. Reluctantly, he moves back again, gravelly offering, “Fuck yeah I do.” It earns a giggle from her, but it’s short lived.

“Steve, m’not kidding, I- I’m scared to say it, but I wanna.” She trembles against him, but keeps some kind of composure. “W- what if you leave and—“

Desperately, he shakes his head, antsy to hear what she wants to tell him. “‘Key, just say it, pl—“

It’s a raspy, rushed mess, but Steve still hears it, loud and clear: 

“I love you.”

A silence falls between the two, where the only sounds are their shallow breaths and wildly beating hearts.

“‘Atta girl,” Steve’s teasing response brings a grin along Frankie’s face as she blushes deeply, before kissing her again, taking his time to memorize every line and curve of her lips. But he abruptly stops, “Shit, wait, I- I love you too, sorry, I’m— it’s just— you’re distracting me, Francesca.”

Between kisses, she laughs, then murmurs, “Can’t say that shit t’me, told you that.” He trails away from her mouth, kissing softly along her face, making his way to her neck. Gasping, she pulls at his hair, pausing him as he groans lowly. “Quit using my full name too, I like how it sounds coming from you.” He laughs as she forces a frown. “We should be sleeping, Steve.”

“What, you don’t wanna make out all night?” He’s teasing, but checks in, “We can stop. I don’t want you to feel uncomfortable.”

“I’m more than comfortable, trust me. But don’t— uh— only this, okay? For now?”

Steve kisses back up her neck, taking in the view of her kiss-swollen lips, the dark circles under her eyes, and the lazy grin across her face. Now that they stopped, fatigue is catching up to her quickly, and it’s written all over her features.

Her “I love you” echoes in his head over and over.

Nodding, Steve gently cradles his hand against her face— a signature move the two now share, one that wouldn’t feel right with anyone else. 

“For as long as you want or need,” He’s exhausted, can feel his eyelids growing heavier by the second as the two calm down; sleep’s within his reach, and judging by the tired look she wears, she’ll doze off with ease soon, too. “I meant it when I said I wasn’t going anywhere. I love you, ‘Key.”

Before Steve can drift off, he remembers the last time the two were in her bed, and what a difference there was between the emotions then, and now, but Frankie’s voice yanks him out of the thoughtful daze.

“Hey, babe? You free tomorrow?” She mumbles, smirking with eyes closed, lazily wiggling her eyebrows in his direction. “Y’wanna make out?”

He bursts into laughter, embrace tugging her close as she gives a giggle that settles with ease as she falls asleep.

“Fuck yeah I do.” 

[starry-eyed-steve-library]

Hi! Saw that your requests were open and wondered if you’d do something with Steve Harrington and reader where it’s based on season 4 and reader is catching the looks Steve and Nancy give each other so she confronts him and he reassures her there’s nothing going on?

only you

pairing: steve harrington x f! reader

a/n: I LOVE STEVE!! this was rlly fun to write :33 this request is so cute i love him eek!! also this is kind of inspired by the song ‘only you’ by yazoo bc i love that song heheh

it had been a rough few days. the kind of rough that made steve wish he could crawl under his bedcovers and stay there until the world decided to stop falling apart. but hiding wasn't an option when the upside down was causing havoc in hawkins again, and certainly not when nancy was back in his life, running headfirst into danger just like old times.

you had been a solid presence throughout the ordeal, offering reason when everyone else seemed ready to unravel. steve always appreciated you more than he could ever put into words. you were his rock, his anchor in the storm, and he knew he was the luckiest guy in the world to have you by his side.

tonight, the group had gathered in the wheeler basement, trying to piece together the story of the latest victim that vecna had left for them. nancy was flipping through her notebook, scribbling notes furiously, while steve tried to keep up with the conversation. he glanced over at her a few times, mostly out of habit. they had been through so much together that it was hard not to look back on those memories with a tinge of nostalgia.

but he didn’t realize how it must have looked to you.

you were sitting on the other side of the room, comforting el, whilst trying to focus on max’s recount of her latest vision, but your eyes kept drifting to steve and nancy. every stolen glance, every shared look between them, sent a pang of insecurity through your heart. you knew they had history - everyone did. but seeing them together again, working so closely, it made you wonder if maybe that history wasn't as buried as you hoped.

later, after the meeting had dispersed and everyone was heading home, you and steve walked to his car in silence. the quiet stretched uncomfortably between you, filled with words unsaid.

"hey," steve finally broke the silence as he unlocked the car. "y’okay?"

you nodded, but your expression betrayed you. steve could see the worry etched across your face. he gently touched your arm, stopping you before you could climb into the passenger seat.

"what's wrong?" he asked, his voice soft and full of concern.

you took a deep breath, looking up at him with eyes that threatened to spill over with tears. "i saw the way you were looking at nancy tonight," you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. "and... and the way she was looking at you."

steve's eyes widened in surprise, and then softened with understanding. he stepped closer, cupping your face in his hands. "hey, no," he said gently. "there’s nothing going on between me and nancy. we’re just trying to figure all this out, just like everyone else."

"but you have a history with her," you whispered, looking away. "and i can't help but feel like, like maybe you still have feelings for her."

steve's heart ached at the sight of your distress. he tilted your chin up so you would look at him, his gaze steady and sincere. "listen to me," he said firmly. "nancy and i... we had our time, but it’s over. i care about her as a friend, and that's it. you’re the one i’m with now. you’re the one i want to be with."

he pressed his forehead against yours, closing his eyes. "you’re my present and my future," he whispered. "i love you. only you."

you closed your eyes too, feeling the warmth of his words seep into your heart. "promise?" you asked, your voice small and vulnerable.

steve pulled back just enough to look into your eyes, his expression full of love and determination. "i promise," he said. "i’m all in, with you. and I’m not going anywhere."

you let out a shaky breath, a smile breaking through the lingering doubt. "okay," you whispered.

steve leaned in and kissed you, slow and sweet, pouring all his reassurance and love into that kiss. when he pulled back, he rested his forehead against yours again, a small smile playing on his lips. "no more doubts, okay?"

you nodded, feeling the weight of your worries lift. "okay."

with a final kiss on your forehead, steve opened the car door for you. as you both settled into your seats and drove away, the tension from earlier dissolved, replaced by a comforting sense of certainty. no matter what anything or anyone threw at you, you knew you had steve by your side. and that was enough.

[starry-eyed-steve-library]

Summer Reading

↝a/n: cute little Steve drabble (?)(I'm not even sure if I know what a drabble is...)

↝pairing: Steve Harrington x fem!reader

↝warning: fluff, not proofread

|| Disclaimer: I do not own Steve Harrington, or any character from Stranger Things. I only own y/n and any characters I create with my own brain. ||

↝⎙ 6.15.24

The Summer sun radiated down upon the meadow, soaking into your skin. The tree offered no shade as the sun began to set, its golden rays shining directly onto you. But you didn't mind. You were comfortable lying there. The blanket underneath you was soft, a pleasant contrast to the prickly grass below.

Steve sighed, snuggling closer to your body. His hand moved up your thigh, his thumb gently stroking your soft skin. He didn't dare move further, simply appreciating the warmth and softness.

His eyes moved up, watching as your eyes scanned the page, before moving your fingers to gently turn the page. He noted how your top lip twitched and your eyes slightly squinted, surely because you were intrigued with the words on the paper.

He couldn't help himself from slightly lifting his head, kissing at your shoulder before talking, "What are you reading?" His voice was as soft as his lips were against your shoulder.

You continued to look at the pages.

"A book." You replied, a playful smile etched on your face.

Steve rolled his eyes, pinching at your thigh in faux annoyance. "Yeah, but what is it about?" He whispered, lips ghosting over your collarbone.

You licked your lips, eyes finally fall off of the pages, to his face. The sun shine right into his eyes, making them glow a pretty gold. "Want me to read some of it to you?"

Steve wasted no time to nod, before he settled back on your chest, putting more of his body weight onto you. His ear on your chest, listening to your heart as you read. When he did move his head to look at you, he watched as your lips move, your sweet words falling on his deaf ears. The only thing he could register was your lips and your warmth, the warmth that wasn't only from the sun, but of your bodies being so close together. He wouldn't have it any other way.

•2021-2024 by xoxo-sarah on Tumblr•

•My work is not to be translated, copied, modified, and/or reposted on any other site without my permission. [I don't give permission!]

[starry-eyed-steve-library]

chase the endless summer

steve harrington x reader; summer fluff because we all know steve shines in the summer sun

word count: 1.4k

a/n: it’s finally feeling like summer to me and i can’t stop thinking about steve so here’s a silly little summer blurb because i miss him and im happy summer is finally here. barely proofread and unedited so sorry about that, i just wanted to post this <3

The sun is excruciatingly hot against your skin as you lay out on your towel, and the humidity makes you feel as if you’ll never escape the thin sheen of sweat on your body. You lay and contemplate your options: get up and get a drink, hoping it will quench the heat of your body or join your friends in the lake. Neither option sounds especially appealing to you and you harrumph as you roll over onto your back, in just the perfect spot to see your boyfriend ogling you from the shallows of the lake.

You giggle as you catch him staring. He’s too distracted by you to realize that Robin and Nancy are sneaking up on him and you can’t bring yourself to warn him and ruin the girls’ fun. Your hand lifts in a wave and you wiggle your fingers at the boy as your best friends jump on him and dunk him into the water.

Raucous laughter fills the air as Steve resurfaces, shouting incoherent threats at the girls through his laughter as he splashes them and escapes the water. Watching as he approaches you on the beach, you feel your heart thump in your chest. Despite being together for years and seeing Steve through countless summers, the sight of his sun kissed skin and freckles always makes you a little dizzy.

He drops himself over you on your towel, making you shriek, “No, get off me! You’re so cold!” Laughter is laced in your voice as you shiver at the contact of the lake water on your overheated skin. He pushes himself up onto his forearms and looks at you with a mischievous smile on his face.

“Come on, baby. You’re gonna shrivel up if you stay out here any longer,” his voice is soft and low, stirring the butterflies in your stomach. He pushes his face into your neck as he tries to coax you into the water with him, “Don’t you wanna cool off?” He’s dotting soft and chaste kisses into the skin of your neck.

“What, and risk attack from our beloved friends? No thank you.” You laugh as you squirm against him and try to push your face to your shoulder to stop the ticklish administrations. “I’m perfectly fine up here, where I’m safe from surprise ambushes.”

His arms slip down to your sides and his lips follow, kissing a path down your shoulder and to your chest where he pauses and looks up at you. His hands tickle your sides as he soothes over them absentmindedly, “Baby, love of my life, apple of my eye,” you giggle at how thick he lays the affection on. “Please come into the water with me,” he begs, dragging out the please and popping his lower lip out into a pout after a particularly soft kiss to your sternum.

You roll your eyes and huff at his attempts, refusing to let it show how well his pleading is working on you. He knows anyway. Steve could read you better than anyone on the planet, you’re not fooling him. You remain in your spot and pretend to deliberate your next move as Steve resumes his kisses on your body. Slow enough that you don’t notice, his arms snake under your body and he tightens his grip on you before ripping you off the towel and throwing you over his shoulder.

He’s so fast that you don’t even react until he’s standing and turning towards the water. “Steve Harrington,” you squeal through your laughter as you hear your friends cheering from the water. “Put me down right now!”

“No can do, sweetheart. I’m under strict orders to get you in the water,” He says, hiding the amusement in his voice as you wiggle fruitlessly in his grip. He knows you aren’t really putting up a fight, he squeezes your thighs a little tighter anyway.

“It’s about time!” you hear Robin shout. “We thought maybe you had melted into the ground up there.” You can hear the smile in her voice as she watches the two of you wade into the water.

Steve carries you further in, until the ends of your hair are touching the water, you squeal at how close you are to the freezing water and kick your legs in the air.

“This isn’t funny, Steve! Put me down!” He can hear the smile in your voice as he changes his grip and prepares you for his next move.

“I can do that,” you freeze as you realize what his plan is.

“No, no, no, Ste-” your pleading turns to a scream as Steve launches you into the water and submerges you in the lake.

You pop up and out of the water to hear your friends cackling at your misfortune before you wipe your hair out of your face and set your sights on your pretty boyfriend. “Oh, Harrington,” you say lowly as you swim towards him. “That, my love, was a big mistake.”

Then you’re launching yourself at him and tackling him into the water. He’s calling your friends for help as you make contact and you feel Robin’s arm snake around you before you’re ripped from his body.

“Alright, lovebirds, let's not drown each other now,” She giggles as you cling to her and fake a pout.

“Nance,” you put on your most convincing puppy eyes and pout your lip as you snuggle into Robin’s arms. “Be a doll.”

You don’t even have to verbalize your wish, and you smile as Nancy reaches towards your boyfriend’s head and shoves him into the water again. Laughter shakes you and Robin as Steve huffs indignantly.

“Never would have invited them if I knew you’d all team up against me.” The smile on his face betrays his sentiment. You release Robin and swim to Nancy and Steve, kissing Nancy’s cheek before swimming right into Steve’s arms.

“Sorry, handsome. Had to get you back for your betrayal.” You smile up at him before pressing a soft kiss to his collarbone. You hear Nancy and Robin fake gag at the sticky sweetness of your voice and the affection you focus on your boyfriend.

You’re glad he dragged you out here and they all know it. You love your best friends and wasting the hot, summer day in the lake with them is always your favorite way to spend a day. You push a few more quick kisses into his chest before you pull yourself out of Steve’s arms.

“Hey, Rob, wanna float with me?” You ask as you pop onto your back and begin your summer tradition. You reach your hand out as you float towards her and she grabs it excitedly.

“I thought you’d never ask, beautiful,” she says happily before joining you on your back. “I’ve been waiting for you all morning. Let’s see how far we can float before Steve goes all Mother Hen and forces us to come back to shore.”

Steve squawks indignantly as you and Robin giggle and lose yourselves to the relaxing bobbing of the water. You don’t know how long the two of you float together. Nancy and Steve hang out and talk on the beach, watching the two of you float through the water. The day is a beautiful one, and you have never felt more love for your friends as you all soak up the summer sun.

You wish you could pause the moment and live in it forever.

Your peace is interrupted by Steve’s shout, “Hey! You guys are too far out. Don’t make me come get you both!” Giggles float in the air between you and Robin as you move to swim back towards the beach and join them.

“Gotta give it to him,” Robin mutters under her breath as the two of you get closer to your best friends. “Loverboy lasted longer than usual.”

Your laughter floats through the air as you approach your boyfriend. Curling into him on your towel as the four of you settle in to chat and watch the sunset before you all head back to Steve’s house.

The perfect summer day, not at all out of the ordinary, but something you treasure nonetheless. You’ll do it all again in a few days but still, you sit in between Steve’s legs with your back to his front, and listen to your friends as you watch the sun go down.

You wouldn’t trade this for the world.

my masterlist

[starry-eyed-steve-library]

Summer is Steve's season fr 💗

Loved the banter between the reader and him. They were really adorable. 💗

i have a summer themed request for steve!! helping him out with his sunburns from a whole day spent outside, just stupid affectionate, doting fluff <33

i loved this idea so so much thank u sm for requesting!!! i hope u like it <3 | 1.1k of pure fluff

Summers in Indiana are hot and humid, your hair a constant mess of frizz, the light sheen of sweat seemingly permanent on your skin until you cave and shower it off only for it to start all over again.

It’s windows open all night and fans plugged in all day in yours and Steve’s shared apartment, the hum of crickets sneaking through the screens, a constant soundtrack to your nights.

And—your favorite part—it’s beach days with your friends whenever your conflicting work schedules allow. Half in Eddie’s van, the other in Steve’s BMW driving out to the closest beach where the wind coming off the great lake is a little cooler, where you can walk around in your swimsuits without any complaints from town grandparents.

It’s how you’d spent today, packing up coolers and towels in the morning, sitting in Steve’s passenger seat with Robin in the middle at the back, leaning forward the entire drive to ‘keep herself in the loop’ even though she’d been the one keeping the conversation going.

Then it was spreading out on the sand, towels in a row and sunglasses over your eyes as the sun beamed bright in the sky. Everyone taking turns going for a swim, Eddie’s curls an absolute mess upon his return, Steve shaking out his wet hair the way a dog would. You leaning into his chest in lieu of a chair once he sat down in his spot behind you.

Finally, it was coming home happily exhausted from a day in the sun and taking turns showering (because shared showers aren’t fun when sand’s involved).

You’re already cleaned up, your pajama shorts and tank top thrown on, hair still wet and dripping down your back. When Steve comes out of your bathroom in nothing but his boxers, you can’t stifle the giggle that escapes your mouth.

“What are you laughing at, honey?” he asks, raising his eyebrows at you.

“Looking a little crispy there, Harrington.”

“Don’t make fun of me! I’m in pain!” Steve dramatically collapses onto your bed next to you, then winces at the scrape of the sheets against his sunburn. “Save me.”

“Poor baby,” you say, failing to hide your smile. His back and shoulders are reddened from the sun, along with his cheeks and nose, but nothing too horrible. You run a hand up his arm gently, “I did tell you to put some sunscreen on.”

“Not the time for ‘I told you so,’ babe, really,” Steve huffs, an arm thrown across his eyes—though it doesn’t hide the teasing smile that twitches across his mouth. “I’m dying here.”

“Oh, stop.” You squeeze his arm once before standing, “I’ll be right back.”

You walk over to your bathroom and find your bottle of aloe you keep under the sink (because Steve is prone to sunburns) and grab it before heading back into the bedroom, where he’s still sprawled across the bed.

“Turn over,” you say, “I’ll do your back first, okay?”

He obeys, shifting so that he’s laying on his stomach, his head resting on his folded arms. Despite his sunburn, you can’t help but admire the way his muscles ripple beneath his skin, the constellation of freckles that scatter across his back.

You feel warm and fuzzy whenever you get moments like this, quiet and full of trust, intimate and sweet, because you don’t think you’ll ever stop feeling lucky that you get to call him yours.

With the aloe in hand, you get onto the bed and straddle his lower back, and he sighs as your weight sinks him into the mattress a little bit further. Neither of you say anything—save for the appreciative hums escaping Steve’s mouth—as you massage the lotion into his upper back and shoulders.

Soon enough, you’re shifting off of him and patting his arm softly, “‘Kay, flip over, Stevie.”

He does, and pushes himself up to sit so that he’s facing you, that private smile of his that he seems to save for you on his face. He dips in to kiss you once, and then twice, because he can never seem to help himself. “Hi.”

“Hi,” you say back. “Almost done.”

You spread a bit more aloe across his nose and cheeks, on top of the freckles that you can only see when you’re this close, and press a peck to the tip of his nose before pulling back.

“Mmm, I feel so much better,” he says. “Maybe you should kiss me again, just in case.”

“You’re a dork.”

“You’ll still kiss me though, right?”

You roll your eyes but don’t protest a bit when he leans in and catches your lips again. Twice, because once is never enough.

“Let me do you now,” he says, holding his hand out for the bottle that’s now laying by your knee.

“I’m not burnt,” you laugh, “unlike some people, I remember to use protection.”

He gives you a look that he always gives you before he turns something into a joke, “that’s what she-”

You cover his mouth with your hand before he can finish that one, “okay, okay,” you hand him the bottle of aloe. “Here you go.”

He grabs it from you and nudges your shoulder to get you to lay back against the pillows, your damp hair fanning out. Steve copies your position from earlier, swinging a leg over so he has one on each side of your thighs.

Lifting the edge of your tank top gently, he shifts it up to rest just above your belly button, his hands coming up to hold your waist before he catches himself and remembers what he’s meant to be doing.

Admittedly, you’d let him do this for you, sunburnt or not, ‘cause he looks at you and touches you as if you’re the most precious thing in the entire world.

His hands are soft as they spread the aloe across your stomach, careful not to get any on the band of your shorts or the hem of your top, and his brown eyes are warm as they wash over your skin, from where his hands work up to your chest and neck and then your face.

When he’s done, he tugs your shirt back into place for you and leans down to press a kiss to your forehead, then your cheek, and finally your mouth. Twice, of course.

“There you go,” he says, “pretty as ever.”

“Yeah, because I’m not sunburnt, Stevie.”

“Stop it and let me compliment you,” he says, moving to lay down beside you.

And when you’re tucked safely to his chest, as close as you can get no matter the temperature, you think that summer just might be your favorite season, humidity and all.

[starry-eyed-steve-library]

"Hello? Who Is This?"

Summary: Steve and your little brother bond via play phone.

Pairing: Steve Harrington x Reader

Warnings: nothing but fluff

A/N: I haven't proof-read this yet, so I'll do that when I wake up. I was just excited to FINALLY post something after like, 2 years. I hope you guys like it!

“I hate this,” Steve says as he closes his math book. “I don’t even like math.”

You playfully roll your eyes at your boyfriend before turning them back to your own math book. “Nobody likes math,” you say, “but it’s mandatory so…”

Steve groans and throws himself on your couch, burying his face in the soft cushion. “Can’t we take a little break?”

His words are muffled but you can understand what he’s saying.

“Steve…”

“Pleaseee,” he sits upright and gives you puppy eyes, “We’ve been going at this since school let out.”

You didn’t get the chance to respond when the front door opened and in came your mom with your two year old brother on her hip. Though, if you could respond, you would have said yes to the break.

“Steeb!” your baby brother yelled out as his eyes set on your boyfriend beside you.

He wiggled around in your mom's arms until she set him down and he came running into the living room, completely disregarding you and going over to Steve.

“Hey buddy!” Steve exclaimed happily, lifting him up and giving him a big hug.

Your mom chuckled at your brother’s excitement for the older male as she set down the groceries that were still in her hand. “Hi Steve.”

Steve looks over at your mom and smiles. “Hello Mrs. Y/L/N!”

“I hope you guys had enough time to yourselves because I don’t think Kyle is going to leave you alone.” she chuckles as she watches your brother cuddle up to Steve.

“Y/N’s gonna have to deal with it, I gotta spend time with my best friend now that he’s home, right Ky?” He looks down at your brother and he nods.

“Right!”

You playfully roll your eyes and make your way to the kitchen to help your mother put the groceries away while Steve and Kyle busied themselves playing with the building blocks that were nearby.

About an hour later, your mother took your brother upstairs for a nap so you and Steve could continue to study but this time it was a different subject. However, thirty minutes into Steve quizzing you with flashcards, Kyle comes running down the hall with his play phone in hand and your mom following behind him.

“He only slept for a little bit.” she tells you. “Guess I’ll get started on dinner.”

Your mom disappears into the kitchen and you turn back to Steve.

“Ready for another one?” he asks and you give him a firm nod. “Okay, how does dynamics differ from kinematics?”

You open your mouth to answer but before you could, your brother appears in front of the two of you. Kyle grunts and extends his arm toward Steve, offering him the play phone and Steve doesn’t miss a beat.

“Sorry, I have to take this,” your boyfriend apologizes to you as he takes the play phone from the tiny human in front of him, pressing it up to his ear. “Hello? Who is this?”

Steve stands up and starts pacing the living room with one hand on his hip while your brother stares up at him.

“No I’m sorry I can’t be your best friend, I already have one and he’s standing right next to me.” Steve pauses like someone else is talking on the phone then with a shake of his head, he sinks down to his knees in front of Kyle and passes him the play phone. “Here, talk some sense into him because he’s clearly not understanding what I’m saying.”

Kyle puts the phone to his ear and looks at Steve. “What do I say?”

“Tell him I can’t be his best friend because I’m already your best friend.” he whispers to the two year old.

“Otay.” Kyle whispers before turning his attention to the play phone. “He not your best friend, he mine!” your brother shouts then smiles at Steve. “That good?”

Steve gives your brother a thumbs up. “That’s great buddy.”

Suddenly, Kyle gasps and quickly hands the play phone over to Steve. “He said he want to talk to Steeb!”

He nods and takes the phone with a stern look on his face. “Listen mister, I don’t want to be best friends with you because Kyle is already my best friend, okay? Tell him.”

Steve brings the play phone to your brother where he shouts a “yeah!”

“So don’t call me again, alright? Bye.” He pretends to hang up the phone before handing it back to Kyle. “If he calls back, let me know, okay?”

“Otay!” your brother nods before running off to the kitchen, probably to have your mother speak into the play phone as well.

“Sorry,” Steve says as he grabs the flashcards again. “Some weirdo called wanting to replace Kyle as my best friend. Can you believe that?”

You look at your boyfriend in amusement as you shake your head. “How dare they.”

“Right?” he agrees before shuffling the cards three times.

You giggle at your boyfriend who, only mere seconds ago, was taking role playing on a play phone seriously with your two year old brother. This catches his attention and he looks over at you.

“What?”

“Nothing,” you say, “you’re just really good with kids is all.”

Steve shrugged. “I was lonely as a kid. Playing with Kyle is like playing with the sibling I never had.”

You smile and run your fingers through Steve’s hair. “You’ll make a great dad, Stevie.”

“Yeah?” The apples of his cheeks tint pink, “you think so?”

“I know so.”

The two of you look at each other fondly and Steve reaches over to grab your hand, rubbing small circles over it with his thumb.

However, the moment is interrupted by your mother hollering from the kitchen; “As much as I love you, hopefully we won’t find that out any time soon, right Steven?”

He pulls his hand away from yours and sits up straight, clearing his throat. “Right Mrs. Y/L/N! No kids until I graduate and get a well paying job!”

“Good!” your mother calls out, “I’m not trying to be a grandma right now.”

You choke on air when she says this and Steve starts to blush again.

“Moooooommm…”

“What? I’m just saying!”

You shake your head and Steve clears his throat again, rubbing the back of his neck. “Anyway, ready for the next question?”

You nod. “I was born ready.”

Steve smiled at you as he pulled a card from the deck and began reading it. “Is condensed matter theory different from information theory? If so, ex-”

“Steeb!” your brother interrupts his question.

“Yeah little dude?” Steve’s attention is fully on the two year old now, flashcards completely forgotten once again.

“Call!” Kyle shouts, thrusting the play phone toward Steve.

“Did he call back?” he asks and your brother nods. “Gimme that,” Steve takes the phone and stands again, this time waving his hand around while he spoke. “I told you not to call me again! What do you not understand about me not wanting to be your best friend? I already have one! You know what-” he takes the play phone away from his ear and passes it to Kyle. “Here, he’s not listening to me. You talk to him.”

Kyle takes it out of Steve’s hand with a scowl and starts going on about how Steve is his best friend and to leave them alone or else while Steve threw in an occasional “yeah!” to support Kyle.

You giggle at the two of them as they continue to argue with the fake person over the play phone. You start to put your notes and flashcards away just as Kyle comes up to you with the play phone.

“For me?” you point to yourself. Kyle nods and you put the phone to your ear. “Hello?” You suddenly gasp and hand the phone back to your brother. “He said he’s gonna take me from you! That I’m gonna be his sister now!”

“No!” Kyle shouts, putting the play phone to his ear. “My sissy! Not yours!” He turns to Steve. “Steeb!”

“I got it,” he takes the phone. “Oh, so not only are you trying to steal me away from my best friend, now you’re trying to steal my girlfriend? I think not! Let me tell you something-”

Your mom watches the three of you play with the two-year-old and she can’t help but smile. Not only does Kyle have an amazing older sister, but he also has an amazing friend who would no doubt do anything for him. Your mother loves that Steve makes you and Kyle happy and hopes that he will stick around for years to come.

Little does she know, he does.

[starry-eyed-steve-library]

Hey if you're still taking requests could I get any sort if angst to comfort for zombie au steve? Been feeling down lately and I've always loved that series!

ty for requesting! zombie au. fem, 1.5k

The new pencils are oil-cored, as opposed to his last ones, which had been wax. They were just fine, but these oil pencils allow him to blend colours and shades with more finesse than ever. He can pour twenty different colours into the tone of your skin and have them blend into a real, phototechnical you. 

He’s pretty proud of this one. 

He wakes up first every morning, allowing for time where you’re unaware and he’s got nothing to do. He’s sketched you so many times it comes naturally. Steve probably wouldn’t need to look, but watching you sleep is half the joy of drawing you. 

You're drooling a little. 

Steve puts the handful of pencils he’d been using to colour your neck back into his pen case. He puts the case and his sketchbook on top of his main bag, shoving it into a corner of your tent with the rest of the bags to climb back onto the bed. It’s a portable cushioning made for camping, and it’s nothing like a mattress, but it is much kinder to your backs than sleeping on the ground. Warmer, too. 

He pushes your head back, knowing it will wake you, his thumb to the little drool line to wipe it away, his palm on your cheek to hold it. 

“Hello.” He kisses your other cheek as your lashes twitch. Doesn’t even think about not doing it. “Good morning.” 

“Morning,” you mumble strangely. 

“What’s that?” he says, soft to match your quiet. His breath kisses your lips. “What’s wrong? You sound sad.” 

You force your eyes apart, and you feel along the mattress with your hand. Steve watches in real time as your eyes fill with tears, huge, heavy tears that well in the corner of your left and spill from the right to wet the pillow under your head. 

“What’s wrong?” he asks, the effort expended to stay calm so gutting he has to squeeze the pillow just shy of your head. 

You grab for him, blankets and your half-open sleeping bag crinkling but not too thick to feel the force of your fingers gripping his sides. 

You must’ve had a bad dream, that’s what he thinks. He’s had enough of them, and he’s unfortunately cried after almost all of them. Sometimes you’ve seen it, sometimes you haven’t, but you look at him with love no matter what —he can forget dreams of losing you when you’re murmuring niceness in his ear, and he can give it back to you. 

“It’s okay,” he says, letting you squeeze him hard. “Don’t cry.” And that’s a little awkward of him, that sneaking panic, but he’s never claimed to be a professional. 

You cry in a weird breath that borders a gag. “I’m so-sorry.” 

“It’s okay, it’s fine. I have bad dreams too. You know that.” 

Steve attempts to get both arms behind your shoulders, pulling you into him, sitting you up. He can’t cope with how quickly you’ve fallen apart. To wake up crying, how scary the dream must’ve been, he hates it. 

“It’s okay,” he says. 

“It was a good dream,” you say. 

Steve frowns. “Okay, so what’s the problem?” 

“We had a house. We had a dog. I don’t– don’t even know if you like cats, but you had a dog, and we,” —you sob between words, not too loudly as to travel far, but aching— “were planning a trip. It felt so real, Steve. You were so happy.” 

Steve tries to process it as fast as he can. “Oh,” he says softly, hand lax where it had been rubbing your shoulder. 

“You were so happy,” you say again, burying the tip of your nose into his neck. You’re practically crawling atop him, but he’s strong enough to stop you from laying him down. 

“It’s okay, honey. Jesus,” he says, patting your back again. “It’s alright. It’s okay.” 

“We’ll never have those things.” 

“Baby, who says so?” he asks in a murmur. 

“We’ll never get to go anywhere together–”

“It feels like we’ve seen pretty much all of America,” he says. He’s joking, but travelling with you from place to place has felt expansive. You’ve seen forests and lakes, a thousand different houses, hundreds of neighbourhoods, and street art and installations and billboards for movies that were never screened. Steve’s seen about as much of the world as he wants to see. “I’d just stay in this tent with you forever if they let us, we don’t need to go anywhere else.” 

“You wanted to see palm trees,” you say, sniffling and pained as your tears warm the curve of his trap. 

“I’ve seen them,” Steve says. “Don’t worry. I’ve already seen palm trees. A whole bunch of them. Don’t worry about what I wanted in the dream, it was just a dream.” 

He gives you a quick kiss, his lips to the very edge of your temple. 

“I feel like I’m gonna be sick.” 

Steve nods. He draws from you reluctantly and opens the tent, ushering you on knees to sit out in the cool air. He sits next to you, dewdrops from the grass wetting his jeans, the sky a humming of early morning colours; the sun rises in bands of orange and raspberry pink, darkness above, sun rays kissing the sides of tents and the portables in the distance. 

You take deep breaths. Steve holds your hand, the two of you looking up at the strange sky. 

“We’ll never be that happy,” you say. 

Steve can hear your agony, and he knows what you mean. He thinks of that life with you and never lets himself think far. You would've gone to college, maybe, and Steve would’ve drove to visit you —he would’ve moved. Maybe in your second year you’d live together in a suburb just between college and his job, whatever it is he’d ended up doing, in a house you chose, with a ring on your finger. Steve wants kids but if you don’t then perhaps you’d have had none, but he still likes to picture you with your babies, a big family, years later. And maybe he’d have a dog. A silly looking one with bark worse than its bite. 

And you’d be together. You would be happy. Nothing to hurt you. Nothing to lose you to. You’d never worry where your next meal was coming from, you’d never feel cold. 

Steve breathes out. Sniffs biting air. “We’ll never be that happy. That kind of happy. We’re never gonna go on trips, maybe we won’t ever have a house, but–“ He pulls your hand toward him, your eyes latching on to his. “But maybe we will. We might not get to watch cable, but we can have a tv, in a living room. We can live together, and maybe we will take trips. I don’t know. I don’t know what we’ll have, but I’m already happy. You don’t have to cry about me being happy.” He shakes his head. “Shit, you shouldn’t. I want that life with you so much I dream about it too, but I have this one.” 

“You think we’ll have a house?” you ask hopefully. 

“We can’t live like this forever.” He’s promising it. “Something has to give.” 

“I want us to have more,” you say. 

A weak confession, your cheeks wet with tears but eyes thankfully drying, your eyelids puffy already from sleep and crying alike. Steve wants you to have everything, even if everything is a stupid thing to think you’ll have. 

“We will.” Steve closes one eye, a sort of prolonged wink of pain as his nose wrinkles. “But this is enough for now, right?” 

“No.” 

You’re kidding, to Steve’s relief. 

He laughs and elbows you, glad to see your smile as you evade poorly. “Say it’s enough!” 

“No way.” 

You don’t wait for him to pull you in or ask if it’s alright, flopping without ceremony into his lap, and then turning toward him to hug his stomach. He looks down at you fondly, hand rubbing up your warm back. You’re still clammy from sleeping, but you’re not crying anymore. 

“It’s really cold out here.” 

“I know.” He blows a warm breath in your ear. “Do you still feel sick? Don’t barf in my lap.” 

“I’m sorry, Steve. It just felt so real.” 

His voice turns to a silky whisper he’s only ever used in love. “I know. I’m sorry.” 

“It’s fine. We never would’ve… I’d never get to be here,” —you squeeze him around the waist— “if we were in a world where we also get the house and the dog and… the family…” 

“But it would’ve been nice,” Steve finishes, looking up from your back to watch as the raspberry bands of pink turn to blue. 

“It would’ve been perfect.” 

[starry-eyed-steve-library]

here comes your man

s. harrington x f!reader, 2.1k

summary: you go to pick up your very drunk boyfriend from the bar after a well deserved night out warnings: alcohol consumption, swearing, reader uses she/her pronouns

a/n: i was half asleep when i wrote this so all i can say is my bad, and i hope my three am deleirum brings you some joy

Hey… you might wanna come pick up your Stevie-Boy. He’s a bit wrecked...

It was a phone call you had half expected, though you didn’t mind admitting that you wished it had not come at 3am on your Saturday night. Steve had been so excited for a night out with the boys – work seemed to be piling onto him more than usual, and more often than not you’d find him half asleep on the couch by 8pm, arm propped uncomfortably beneath his head and back twisting awkwardly. This night came along with the extra TLC you prescribed him this week, taking on a little extra responsibility around the house so he might relax even just for a moment. Steve was a caretaker by trade, and doing things for himself seemed to hark back to a time where he only did things for himself. It took a lot for him to rewire that belief in his brain – self care did not mean selfish, he was a good person. 

You thought that the time out with his friends would remind him of that; how wonderful he was, how loved he was. He could be without responsibility for a night and simply enjoy himself. And enjoy himself he was… you hadn’t heard such an amused lilt to Eddie’s tone for a long time. You spent the drive over pondering just what kind of state your boyfriend might be in, your eyes heavy, body cooling with the iced air that blew through windows opened in an attempt to keep yourself awake. Eddie at least had sounded coherent, so you figured you would not be alone in the battle to try and haul your boyfriend into your beat up car. 

Dressed for the comfort of your own home, it took one disgruntled look towards a stubborn bouncer to let you past without paying an entry fee. You wondered how often this happened – half asleep partners turning up moments before closing to take their inebriated darling home. The thought made you chuckle softly to yourself, body weaving through the stragglers of the night still dancing to a wrapping up DJ. 

Eddie had told you they’d meet you by the lounges when you arrived, though Steve was nowhere to be seen as you approached your tired looking friend, his face pleased, if not a little weary. 

“Where is he?” You questioned, letting Eddie lean down to wrap his arms around you tightly, his weight pressing heavier on you that you had expected under the influence of what you assumed had been many, many shots. 

“At the bar. I thought he’d crashed half an hour ago, but he’s had a second wave.” 

You felt the short burst of laughter bubble up, an unsurprised uh-huh leaving your lips at the notion, eyes drifting towards the thinning crowd collected for the last call. Eddie let you go with a shrug, stepping back to let you go. 

“Alright, I’ll go get him. I’ll wave if I need you, ‘kay?” The nod you received was answer enough, and you set off leisurely towards your unsuspecting boyfriend. 

Steve was half hunched over the bar, palm rolling an empty shot glass flatly across the sticky surface as he waited for an already busy bartender. You couldn’t see his face, but you could picture the expression with such clarity – eyes heavy, blinking slowly as they tracked blearily across the back of the bar, that sweet, contented smile plastered on his lips for no reason at all. 

Following suit, you leaned yourself up against the bar beside him, elbows propping you up to rest your head in your palms. 

“You getting another drink, handsome?” 

Steve made a soft sort of mumbling sound, his head lulling to the side as he leaned away ever so slightly. “Mm, yeah… think so.” 

You nodded, smiling at the way he swayed on his feet. “Oh, I see. You wanna have some water with me?” 

Steve rubbed harshly at his face, eyes screwing shut tightly before blinking hazily at you. “No, thanks.” 

His gaze turned away, his grip on the shot glass faltering for a moment, reflexes only just catching it before rolling over the edge. You reached slowly to pluck it from his hand, though he recoiled sluggishly at the contact, forcing your brow up into a curious arch. 

“How about I take you home, then? Seems like they’re wrapping up.” 

Steve sighed, hands running through his hair in that same familiar flustered motion you were so acquainted with. Ordinarily, Steve would have been bouncing out of his skin to see you, but right now, he seemed like he wanted to be anywhere else. 

“Look, it’s nice of you to ask, but ’m taken. My girlfriend’s comin’ to get me.” 

Oh, how sweet. You’d never seen Steve so far gone that he hadn’t recognised you, but now that you focused your own tired eyes, you could see that his own were barely open to begin with. Your smile widened, amusement settling over you at the sweetness of him. 

“Really? You’re not even gonna look at me? Maybe I’m worth breaking the rules for.” 

He scoffed at that, body straightening up as much as his addled state could allow, his feet stumbling beneath him to put another feet of distance between the two of you. 

“I’m sure you are f’someone else, but ‘m not interested.” His tone was more clipped now, friendliness falling away in the hopes of deterring you. “Not another girl in the world for me but her.” 

God, he was sweet, and more in love with you than you could have ever hoped for a person to be. Your heart ached, entirely overwhelmed with adoration for this man who was waiting for you. 

“Well that’s very lovely.” You cooed, turning sideways to look at him, one arm dropping to your side while the other hand continued to prop your chin up, helping to hide that rosy blush that seemed to stain your cheeks. “I really think you should look at me, though, Stevie.”

You watched as the thought crossed his mind, a slow understanding that something about this interaction seemed out of place. It seemed to take another moment for reality to set in, his body turning and eyes widening comically as they came into focus. 

“Honey!” 

It had you in hysterics, the way his arm gave out from under him, narrowly avoiding his torso from smacking down against the bar top as he lurched towards you. Your arms extended out to catch him, meeting him halfway until his body was pressed tenderly against yours, eager hands creeping up to cup your cheeks, holding your face towards his so he might really look at you. 

“You’re here!” 

Your laughter rang out happily, eyes crinkled at the delight mirrored in his own. 

“Yeah, baby, of course I am. Wanted to make sure you got home safe.” 

If an iris could change shape, then you were certain you saw Steve’s melt into delicate hearts just at the thought of you coming out to take care of him. His thumbs ran adoring lines across your cheekbones, trembling slightly with restraint. 

“S’good to me.” He mumbled, words drowning out within the still deafening music that surrounded you. “Missed you.” 

You felt him slump against you ever so slightly, still conscious of weighing too heavily against you even in his inebriated state, though how he was holding himself up anymore was anyone’s guess. It was your sign to wave Eddie over, though, who without fuss looped a supporting arm around Steve’s back. 

“You gonna let your girl take us home, then? I’m gonna pass out, man, I’m so wrecked.” 

Steve’s brow furrowed, alarmed to have been so suddenly pulled back from you to lean on Eddie, and he reached out a hand in a needy sort of motion towards you. “I wanna dance with her before we go.” 

Too sweet for his own wellbeing, you offered him a sympathetic look, slipping yourself under his other arm to help prop him up. 

“We can dance at home just you and me, okay? In our pjs too — won’t that be nice. We just don’t wanna keep Eddie waiting too long; he’s all danced out.” 

You watched the contemplative look cross his features, leaving him distracted enough for Eddie to start guiding the three of you towards the door without much fuss from Steve. 

“Did you have fun though Ed? Really?” Steve asked, genuine concern threading through his tone as he addressed his friend who managed an affirming nod in response. 

“Loads. We’ll all go out again soon, but I’ve gotta give you back to your sweetheart before she gets too jealous.” 

Steve’s nod was so serious as he processed the words, entirely missing the small look of amusement shared between you and Eddie as you pulled yourselves from the establishment. 

“Yeah.” He agreed, his head lulling sideways to rest on the crown of your own. “She needs me.” 

It had sounded like a joke when he said it, but even you could sense the small severity behind the words, almost reassuring himself of the truth behind them. Of course you needed him. 

“Yeah, she does.” You confirmed, kissing at his shoulder clumsily as you tried to focus on your steps, narrowly avoiding toppling the three of you right over uneven pavements underfoot. “I always need you, honey.” 

You did not need to look at Steve to know that he was smiling — you felt it as you held him, felt it in his touch and the heat of his body carefully wrapped around yours. At least this night felt like a success in your eyes. Steve was happy, and you had done your part to make him so. He’d be awfully hungover tomorrow morning, but he’d be happy, and that was all that seemed to matter to you in the moment. 

Eddie managed to hold Steve upright while you fiddled with the lock of your car door, the boy now contently distracted with regaling tales of the night to the man who had witnessed them first hand. Getting him into the car was easy enough, tucking him cautiously into the front seat, your body leaning over him to click his seatbelt into place, his hand lifting to rub at your lower back in thanks. 

“You’re the best, y’know, baby? The real best. The best best.” 

You paused to smile at him, head shaking in amusement before brushing your lips against his cheek, relishing in the way his hand gripped excitedly at you for the briefest of moments. “I could say the same about you, y’know.” 

“Nuh uh.” 

A groan sounded from outside the car, drawn out and exasperated beyond compare. “Jesus H Christ, I’m begging for someone to take me home. It’s so fucking late, guys.” 

You pulled back with a laugh to witness Eddie’s petulance, your hand coming out to gesture to the back seat. “Then get in the car, dingus, and I’ll take you home.”

“Yeah, what she said!” Steve slurred from the front seat, the battle against his weariness now long lost, eyes closed and head resting heavily against its back, unable to hold itself up any longer. 

Eddie clambered into the back with a half assed eye roll, splaying out across the work back seat until he, too, was one with the upholstery. “You guys aren’t gonna be gross and sayin’ i love you’s all the way home, are you?” 

Steve’s eyes widened in horror. “Oh shit, I haven’t said I love you yet!” 

The charming little frown that spread across his face was enough to melt you in your entirety, your hand reaching out to brush his check with affection, his nose nuzzling sweetly into the cup of your palm. “I’m not worried about it; I know you do.” 

“Yeah, but I do love you. I was thinkin’ it the whole time, thinkin’ you’re so pretty n’ all. So pretty that I couldn't remember to say it.” 

Eddie just huffed again in the back seat, his complaints overtly ignored despite the growing expletives.

“I love you too, Stevie. How about we get Eds home and get you some water, then we can be as sweet as we wanna be.” 

Steve’s lips pressed into your palm, his kiss unhurried and uncoordinated as the alcohol hindered his usual grace, a mumbled m’kay tickling your skin as he spoke. 

You looked up into the rearview mirror, dropping your hand to Steve’s knee for the boy to hold, keeping his neediness satiated for the time being as he grasped it between his own eagerly. “You hear that, Eds? You’re in the clear. Let’s get you boys home.” 

A grumbled thank god and the creaks of the backseat window being clumsily wound down was enough incentive to start your travels, a pleased smile gracing your lips to know that Steve had been given exactly the night he deserved after all. 

[starry-eyed-steve-library]

The end really got me here. 😭💔

First of all, I can only emphasize that this is rn my favorite Steve series. It's so well written and different (in a good way), I'm so in love with this. 💗

First of all, shout out to Louise, what a gem. One of the many Steve/Frankie shippers (what's their shipname?). My girl knows what's up, and I loved her snarky comments so much. The way she looked out for Frankie was really sweet. 💗

Sidenote: Thanks again for touching on Steve's insecurity around his scars. It's refreshing to see that it's not brushed off so easily, and realistically, he would feel some type of way. (We already got proof that his neck scar won't be there in s5, which is disappointing, but I'm not surprised. Thanks for including it in this fic 💗)

I really feel for Frankie's dad. Losing his wife and then having to watch his daughter struggle, it's gotta be tough. I loved his interaction with Steve and Steve promising to keep his daughter safe. Also loved her dad as Steve's doctor, it's super hard finding someone who takes you seriously. I'm happy to read about a positive experience. 💗

I always get a smile on my face as soon as the gang shows up. Their banter is just super hilarious (and in character). Absolutely obsessed with the idea that they are now neighbors soon. 💗

I really loved that you touched on Steve's feelings towards his friends, meaning his guilt of potentially holding Robin back and that's now eased by his other friends being there. I think it's realistic he would think that way, especially bc he doesn't want to see himself as an inconvenience. I love that he can talk to Eddie about some aspects, but it's still limited, which is understandable. I absolutely love that he found someone like Frankie who showes him it's okay to be who he is. Steve deserves that. 💗

Loved the sightseeing scene, they are so cute together and idiots for not seeing what everyone else is seeing lmao. 💗

I love that Frankie is now officially part of the gang. She fits in so well. 💗 I got kinda sad that she even had to ask Steve, just showes how lonely she feels. 💔😭

Again everyone noticing that they love each other besides them. They are idiots lmao 😅😭💗

Sidenote: every time I see the mention of Ferris Bueller, the Joe Keery Dominos commercial comes to my mind lmao. 😭💗 Also I'm like Frankie, haven't seen the movie yet 😭

Before I go into the last part, I just need to say I support the theory of Frankie being the inventor of wired earbuds. Like this is canon to me, sorry to the OG inventor lmao. 😭💗

The last part was really heavy. I can emphasize with Frankie a lot. It really hurt to see her in such a vulnerable state. 😭💔 I really felt that part with her friends. Lost a few myself for similar reasons. So I get it, especially feeling so lonely but also scared to let someone new in. 😭

I'm so happy she found Steve. They are so good to each other. They can be vulnerable with each other, they can relate, and they protect each other. It's just nice to see that they are less alone together. 💗

Steve having the worst timing with his realization, is also just peak character for him. I'm glad he kept it to himself in that moment. 😭💗

I can't wait for the next part, especially now that we have a Steve realization. Honestly, they are such a great match. If Frankie was canon, I would totally ship her with Steve. 💗

Also can't wait to see the shenanigans the gang gets into when Eddie and Dustin move in. There will be a lot of bickering and banter, I already love it. 💗

Thank you again for writing this series for us and creating such a great character in Frankie. I absolutely adore her. She's my new best friend lol. 💗

accident prone

part four - hold me in the dark

Paring: Steve Harrington x Francesca “Frankie” Amato (fem!OC)

Summary: The bond between Steve and Frankie continues to grow, alongside a poorly hidden secret. Despite it all, the two continue to find the sunshine breaking through clouds they force apart.

WC: 10k+

Includes: a whole lot of hurt/comfort, angst, fluff, language, disability, fibromyalgia, lupus, discussion of medical trauma, treatments, flare ups, caretaking, bad flirting and more friends to lovers nonsense, more blooming friendships!! (apologies if i miss anything, I’ll add if necessary!) basically, this one’s heavy, take caution before reading.

series playlist ⋮ masterlist

the end - halsey

↻ ◁ || ▷ ↺

“if you knew it was the end of the world / could you love me like a child? / could you hold me in the dark? if you knew it was the end of the world / would you like to stay a while? / would you leave when it gets hard?”

A/N: thank you to anyone who has stuck with this series. I cannot express how much that means to me, even if it’s only a handful of y’all still here. originally, this part was 11k, then I split it to balance some scenes out, but it still ended up at 10k anyway. I wanted to explore with Frankie’s past, how her and Steve grow closer, and how she fits in with everyone. apologies to anyone I told this would be the happy, fluffy part 😭 it’ll be part 5, promise. it’s been cathartic to write this. I hope you still enjoy this if you read <3

ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ

It’s been one month—give or take— since Steve opened up to Frankie about everything regarding his past. The more they trust one another, the harder it gets for Steve to push his feelings aside. 

Steve’s never done aqua therapy before, but the mere thought of not having to feel pressure on his joints for a few hours a week had him elated.

The running theme of water aerobics, and any sort of therapeutic aqua activity, is that the popularity lies among elderly folks. So what a pleasant surprise it was for him to walk into the physical therapy center’s pool, eyes landing on Frankie among a bunch of older folks.

What a fucking relief.

Steve, who once had no concern showing off his body while swimming, covers himself in an old t-shirt with his swim trunks, hiding the worst of his scars. He notices the one piece Frankie wears, with the shorts nearly reaching her knees, t-shirt draped over her figure; the cotton weighed down with water exposes her shoulder a bit. He catches a glimpse of a blotchy, mottled pattern; his lingering stare is one second too long, hinting to her to cover the exposed spot, and she does.

“Steve!” She waves excitedly from the pool at him, losing grip of the foam weight in her other hand; it bounces out of the water, splashing her face. She frowns comically as she giggles, while a chuckle rises out of Steve, too.

“Hey, Frankie,” Making his way to the bench near her end of the pool, he’s rubbing the back of his neck, another one of his nervous habits; he shoots a half-smile her way. “Didn’t realize we were scheduled at the same time.”

About to respond, Frankie’s cut off by one of the elderly women swimming up beside her. “Francesca, I didn’t know your boyfriend would be here!”

Her face flushes red, eyes wide as saucers, “Wh— Louise! He’s not—“

“She—“ Steve shakes his head and hands in front of him, “We’re just friends.” He has to refrain from wincing at his and Frankie’s words.

That stings to say out loud.

Louise hums, amused. “Mhm, and Percy’s just my friend, too.” She smiles with kind, knowing eyes at Frankie, cheeks round as she chuckles. Then she looks over to Steve and winks as she swims away. “You kids have fun!”

“Louise, it’s physical therapy,” Frankie quips, hands on her hips as she narrows her eyes at the older woman. “You need to get out more if you think this is fun.”

“Can’t! The polka club’s closed for renovations!” She cackles before joining her group on the far side of the pool. Frankie turns back to Steve with a cherry red blush sweeping across her face, matching his own embarrassment, visible in his bright red cheeks.

“I can’t even be mad,” She rolls her eyes with a growing grin. “She’s literally me if I reach that age.”

Almost laughing, Steve catches her peculiar wording. “If?”

Frankie’s face drops, mouth opening to explain, but Steve’s physical therapist comes over, introducing himself before leading Steve to the other end of the pool, where the water treadmill is. He glances back at Frankie, trying to convey through his stare that this isn’t something he’s letting slide.

“Francesca! Jets are open if you want to use ‘em,” Louise breaks her thoughts, and as thrilled as she would be to use the massage jets after a round of PT, they just had to place them right next to the water treadmill.

Reluctantly, she swims over to the wall with the jets, avoiding eye contact with Steve, only feet away. He, on the other hand, won’t take his eyes off her.

There’s a murmur between Frankie and Louise, leaving Frankie cherry red under her freckles all over again as she swims off once more. Rolling her eyes, Frankie turns the jets on, but the pressure comes out heavy and rapid; Louise being the powerhouse of an elderly woman she is, forgot to turn down the settings for the younger woman. 

“Jesus Christ, Louise,” Gripping the wall, she winces as the force of water nearly pushes her over, giggling through the pain. She turns the settings down, playfully glaring at the older woman as she gets out. “Always has to have the jets on full blast.”

To someone healthy and fit, the pressure of the massage jets wouldn’t be an issue, but Steve knows how it feels to ache on a bad day, just from wearing certain clothes. Clearly, the pressure’s enough to bother her.

“Sorry, kiddo!” Louise grimaces as she apologizes, wrapping herself in a towel twice her size, perching on a bench nearby.

“It’s fi—“ Frankie sucks in a sharp breath as she tries using the jets again, eyes scrunching shut as her body tenses up. Even on the lowest setting, the pressure is almost unbearable. Steve’s never seen her react like this to anything uncomfortable.

“‘Key, you alright?” Screw the water treadmill, he can’t take seeing her in pain; he swims off and makes his way over to her. “Hey, look at me,” Steve tries leading Frankie away from the rush of water, hands slipping into hers as gently as possible. 

“Yeah, m’fine,” She croaks out with her eyes still shut, throat tight as she fights back tears. “Just need to get out.”

“Here, let me h—“

“N- no, it’s good, you should finish your session,” She slips out of his grasp, wading through the water to the steps. “I overdid it today, s’all.”

Steve’s left in the water alone, while Frankie cautiously navigates her way to the bench holding her towel; Louise shuffles over to help the younger woman, leading her to the locker room. Glancing back at Steve, she nods with a reassuring look that Frankie’s in good hands. He figures as much from the little interaction he witnessed between the two, but it’s not much easier jumping back into physical therapy with worry clouding his mind.

Still, he tries his best to continue his session without letting new anxieties eat away at his mind. He tries his best to stay focused, make it through the next hour. He tries his best to believe if something was wrong, Frankie wouldn’t hide it from him.

 That’s all Steve can do— try, try, try.

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Since PT, Steve hasn’t heard from Frankie. It had only been a day, and today, he had off because of a follow-up appointment he had scheduled. He tried calling the night before, but never got an answer. It’s hard not to panic, not to assume the worst, especially after the comment she let slip without explanation.

“She’s literally me if I reach that age.”

If. If. If.

The word bounced around in his brain since the passing comment was made; what did she mean by ‘if’?

“Steve?”

Snapping back to reality, he jerks his head up to find Dr. Amato glancing at him with concern.

“So- sorry. What was your question?”

“How did physical therapy go?”

Does he know what happened to Frankie? Should I say something? No. That’s not what he asked. Don’t get distracted.

“It was… alright.” His stare falls to the floor, rolling his ankles in circles as his legs hang off the exam table he sits on.

Dr. Amato crosses his arms, leaning back in his chair. “Just alright?”

“No— I mean— it was good, just not…” He trails off, conflicted on what to say. He wants to tell the doctor he liked the concept of aqua therapy, that he wants to continue it, and from the little bit he could focus on, he thinks it could help. But there’s no way of mentioning that without mentioning Frankie. He settles on, “It was good.”

“Well, that’s good to hear. Would you want to continue sessions?”

Steve nods, trying to push his concern for Frankie to the back of his mind. “Yeah. S’kinda nice not having to worry about pressure on my joints for an hour a week,” He laughs weakly. It’s not a lie, he really does like that part of PT.

“How comfortable are you with multiple sessions a week? Or do you want to keep it at one per week?”

As great as the water felt on his joints, the exercises kicked his ass; he’d be worn out more often than not if he did PT more than once a week. “Maybe one, until I get used to it? Is that… can we do that?”

“Kid, you know your body better than anyone else would,” The doctor doesn’t sound condescending, it’s something he stands by firmly. “We can start with sessions once a week, but if and when you decide you’re ready, we can add more as necessary. That sound good?”

Heavy concerns on his mind aside, it’s still so refreshing to have a doctor that not only cares, but believes him, too.

“Absolutely,” He gives the doctor a weak smile, but it’s genuine, at least. 

Dr. Amato finishes writing in Steve’s chart. “Is there anything else you’d like to discuss?”

Steve shakes his head, “No, I think we covered everything”. Even though it’s his second time here, he feels so at ease to open up about his health ailments without fear of judgement.

The doctor clears his throat, closing Steve’s file, chair creaking as he leans back. “Steve, off the record, can I ask something? You don’t have to talk about this either if you’re uncomfortable.”

“Uh, n- no— I mean yeah! Yes.”

Dr. Amato sighs, crossing his arms again. “I’m asking this as Frankie’s father, not as a medical professional: how has she been doing, really?”

Eyes widening, Steve’s mind spins. What does he mean by that?

“Is— is this about the physical therapy thing?” 

“The wh— oh, boy. I wasn’t even aware of anything happening there,” He runs a hand down his face, reminding Steve of Hopper. “Look, you don’t have to tell me anything, you’re both adults. But I figured I’d ask you noticed anything… different lately, since you’re friends, and co-workers.”

Steve’s brows furrow, fidgeting with the edges of his sweatshirt’s sleeves. “I- I’m not sure what that means.”

“To put it bluntly, I believe she’s experiencing a pretty intense flare-up, but she refuses to tell me. I know asking you is strange, and again, no pressure to confide in me about anything, but you’re the closest person to Francesca these days.”

Me? What about her other friends?

Then it dawns on Steve; she never talks about other friends. Does Frankie have anyone in her life outside of Steve, or her father? What about Rhi and Cade?

From what Frankie has told Steve, he knows she trusts her dad. She has a good relationship with him, but also worries about him. Maybe that’s why he’s left in the dark on something occurring, but Steve is, too. If it’s for her well being, he’ll discuss the little he knows, or witnessed. 

“Only thing I’ve noticed was what happened yesterday. She was in a lot of pain… more than usual. The— those massage jets in the pool, they hurt her, and—“ He can feel empathy weighing heavy on his heart for her as he recalls the moment. “I… if I’m being honest, I’ve never seen her in that much pain. At least she’s never shown it that visibly before.”

Dr. Amato sighs heavily as he nods, and Steve hopes he hasn’t said too much.

“I hate asking this of you, Steve, because you’ve got your own chronic illness to worry about, but would you mind checking in with her when you can? Not asking you to snitch, or anything,” He gives his own uneasy, nervous laugh. “But if anything of… concern comes up, I—“ He shakes his head, gathering his files, giving Steve a somber look. “It’s her story to tell, not mine. Just don’t be afraid to push her to get help, if she needs. Please. I feel you’ll have an easier time convincing her than I would.”

This isn’t a parent pushing their responsibilities to care for their child, even as a full grown adult, off onto someone else; this is a single parent, probably neck deep in work, running out of options to get his only child to be honest about just how severe things have become. He lost his wife, Frankie’s mother, to a sickness not even treatment could save her from. He must be terrified of even the possibility to watch that replay with his own daughter.

Steve also cares about Frankie, really, really cares deeply about her, so it’s a no-brainer response.

“Absolutely, Dr. Amato. I- I’d do—“ Steve, don’t say it. Don’t get emotional. “I’d do anything if it meant keeping Frankie safe.”

Goddammit, why can’t you shut your mouth for once?

Dr. Amato stands, towering over Steve, concern still written all over his face, but a flicker of hope and some kind of ease, too. “I know, Steve. She probably won’t tell you, but the friendship you two have is one of the best things to happen to her in a long while.” He shakes Steve’s hand, which Steve finds out of place in a conversation like this, but assumes the doctor is just taking the professional route. “Thanks, kid. I’ll see you in a month for a follow up, but don’t hesitate to call if you need.”

ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ

The following day, Steve was surprised to find Frankie so upbeat when he entered the record shop. She’s sweeping along the tiled floor, singing along to the music pumping through the speakers, a little off key, but it brings a smile to Steve’s face to see her doing better today.

At least, that’s how it seems.

She’s bopping her head along, dancing lazily, sometimes humming along to the words she doesn’t know; she’s lost in whatever song fills the shop, with a distracted smile on her face.

“In my darkest dreams I see, you’re much closer now to me. I have got you in my hair, I can feel you ‘round me everywhere.”

Steve’s mesmerized by the pure joy she’s radiating, completely enveloped in her own little world, unaware the door’s bell chimed out, or that he’s just standing there, unable to tear his eyes away. In fact, when she spins around, she’s immediately startled at the sight of Steve, dropping the broom as she yelps.

“Christ, Steve, you can’t sneak up on me like that!” She clutches her chest, heart about to beat out of her chest, only to dissolve into a fit of giggles. He smiles apologetically with a shrug. “Hope you didn’t hear too much of my bad singing.”

“Who cares— you should hear me singing along to whatever’s on the radio on road trips,” He hands Frankie her coffee; it’s his day to grab their orders. He loves this small routine they’ve fallen into, but today was one of the many lately where Cade and Rhi tease the hell out of him for not telling Frankie how he feels. Seriously? Does everyone know except her? He shakes the thoughts from his mind, focusing back on her. “Usually Robin’s ready to kick me out of the moving car, and I’m the one always driving.”

Frankie pauses mid-sip of her peculiar yet regular iced coffee order, snorting over Steve’s words.

“Just wait ‘til we drive somewhere for awhile, I think you’ll get sick of me real quick. If I’m not singing obnoxiously, I’ll talk your ear off.”

I’d never get sick of that, or you. 

She’s just joking along, but Steve finds himself shaking his head, softly replying, “No way. I- I’d like it.” A gentle smile floats across his face, followed by a deep blush, stammering to explain, “Y’know, I- like— if we took a trip somewhere— together— I mean, duh, together, you said that, it’s—“ Jesus, Steve. Shut. Up.

Frankie’s smirking at him. “I’d like that too.” She sets her coffee down on the nearest surface, bending down to pick the broom back up. Any happiness visible vanishes in an instant as she tries to get back up, not making it very far; the broom slips from her grasp as her legs give out, sending her crashing to the floor. Thankfully, it was a short fall, but she curses under her breath, face twisting up in the same discomfort Steve witnessed days ago.

He sets his stuff aside, dropping to the floor. “Shit. You okay? Here,” He holds his hands out, but she swats them away; he wasn’t expecting that, leaving him stunned.

“I can do it. M’fine,” She huffs, looking away, embarrassed. 

“‘Key, I’m not saying you can’t—“ 

“It’s okay, really. I- I’m fine.” She takes her time getting back on her feet, grabbing onto a nearby sturdy shelf of CDs to lift herself back up. “See? I’m okay.”

He can’t just drop this, though. “Why won’t you let me help you, the way you help me?”

Frankie’s mouth opens to respond, but not a word comes out. There’s not much of a chance for any response anyway, not when the door’s chime sets off again. The pair turn to find Robin, Eddie and Dustin entering with big smiles on their faces. 

“Okay, surprising you here might be way better than a hospital,” Dustin snorts. 

Eddie, has no greeting, eyes going wide at the new surroundings, whispering, “Holy shit.”

“They insisted on coming here to see you two,” Robin shrugs, smirking. “I was practically held up at gunpoint. By Dustin.”

“Whoa, not cool, I’ve never once owned anything dangerous like that.”

“No, but you did wield that long electric prod that you practically stabbed that evil doctor with—“

“To save your lives!”

Steve sighs, rolling his eyes, before turning to Frankie with a hint of a smile, “Here we fuckin’ go again.” It earns a giggle out of her. If there’s anything she’ll allow him to do to make her feel better, at the very least, he’s happy he can make her laugh. Still, low enough for only her to hear, he murmurs, “I- I wanna talk about all of this later. Just you and me. Okay?”

Frankie huffs out of her nose, but her body relaxes, relenting on the defensive front she wants to hide behind. “Okay. M’sorry.”

Steve grabs her hand quick, squeezing it, “Hey, don’t be sorry. You’ve got a lot going on. S’all gonna be okay, I promise.”

“So… can I live here?” Eddie asks in a dreamy state, drinking in every little detail of the indie record shop. “This place is so fucking cool.”

Steve releases Frankie’s hand, noticing the way Robin eyes the two of them curiously. He narrows his eyes at her, and she whistles, wandering away. 

“Eddie, there’s a record store across the street from our place,” Dustin laughs, but Eddie shakes his head animatedly.

“Yeah, but it went all corporate, and shit. The world needs more hidden gems like this,” He throws his arms out, spinning around in a circle. “Not another fuckin’ Sam Goody.”

“Hey, they have good deals sometimes!” Robin argues, but Eddie flips her off, wandering to a section with guitar strings and picks. 

“You guys should just move to the city at this point, with all the trips you’re taking,” Steve’s mostly teasing, but Dustin can’t hide the shit-eating grin growing on his face.

“Funny you mention that…”

“Wait— wait, really? Henderson, I swear to god if you’re fucking with me—“

This catches Eddie’s attention, and he zips back over to the group, hands animatedly flowing as he explains, “So, okay, funny story, somehow my uncle, and his mom managed to get into some weird, long distance relationship—“

“It’s really just yearning like they’re in some gothic romance novel, writing letters to one another and shit,” Robin cuts in, snickering.

“Which would build to something, like all relationships do eventually, Buckley!” Eddie quips, rolling his eyes with a scoff. “Anyway, long story short, he wants to head to Florida, move in with her. Our lease ends in a month, and, I shit you not, Steven—“

“Don’t call me that, man.”

“… Big boy?”

“Not that either!”

Frankie, all the while, is back in a fit of giggles behind Steve; it brings a small smile to his face, one only the other three can see. 

“The apartment across the hall from yours? Available. Well, it was.”

“Basically, surprise! We’re neighbors now. Well. We’re gonna be neighbors,” Dustin’s grin grows even wider, as if that was even possible. “

Steve’s heart swells with joy; he can’t believe his other best friends are moving here. Here, in the city, but also right next door. After being apart for years, aside from trips here and there to visit on another, he can’t believe they’ll all be together again. It feels right. Familiar. 

The family he found, the one that’s given him more than his family by blood ever had, ever will, will be together again. At least, partially. He misses everyone that’s moved to California. Hell, he even misses, Jonathan and Nancy, still out in New York City. But this news, his two best friends moving here, makes coping with the major changes and trauma left behind a little easier.

And he loves Robin, she’s his number one, as he is her’s, but he’s been worried he holds her back sometimes. For a while, Robin was the only friend he had out here. She gave up a lot of nights out with new friends, dates with women she’d never meet back in a small town like Hawkins, to be there for her best friend. She doesn’t regret it, and he’s thankful for any moments she’s been there for him, but the guilt has always lied underneath it all. Robin never once said or sought out to make him feel like a burden, but it was still on Steve’s mind.

Then, Frankie came along, not only a new friend, but a friend who understood him on a level no one else has or could currently. Not firsthand, at least. And sure, Eddie had his health issues, had to use mobility aids when he was recovering, and he and Steve bonded over that for a bit, but aside from the PTSD they all have— still crippling in its own ways— he’s surprisingly healed enough to not have chronic pain. Not like Steve still has. 

Frankie opened Steve’s eyes to a world where he can exist, sick but unapologetic. Trying his best, but not punching himself down for what’s out of his control. He could be disabled and happy; the two absolutely can co-exist.

It all feels like things are finally falling into place for Steve; it feels like he’s finally sighing a breath he’s held for five years. Maybe, just maybe, he can enjoy life again without dreading what’s yet to come, or feeling guilty for simply existing. Whatever’s bound to happen in the future, good or bad, he’s surrounded by his closest friends, his family.

Whatever the future brings for Steve, he can handle it now.

“You can play D&D with us again!” Dustin exclaims, fist pumping into the air.

Okay, except that.

Steve’s face reddens, eyes shifting between his friends and Frankie, laughing it off sheepishly. “Whoa, wait, I played like, three times at most—“

“Hey, man, don’t try saving face just ‘cause Frankie’s here.” Eddie smirks, eyes darting over to Frankie who looks confused. “You’re still a nerd like the rest of us.”

“I— shut up—“

“You guys play?” Everyone turns to Frankie, dead silent, and she stammers, feeling like she’s on the spot now. “I- I- used to, in school— well, when I wasn’t missing school and seeing friends ‘cause I was sick a lot, but…” She trails off with a shrug.

“See, even Frankie’s a nerd!” Dustin throws his hand out towards her, making her laugh, but he still elaborates, “That’s a compliment, I promise.”

“So why are you—“ She pokes Steve’s arm, “So offended by being called a nerd?”

“I— I’m not—“

All three of his friends respond at once:

Dustin with a deadpan, “Oh, he absolutely is offended by that, still.”

“It’s the ‘King Steve’ complex that’s still stuck like old bubblegum, probably,” Eddie jokes slyly.

“He’s in denial, more than I was when I was in the closet.” Robin taunts, laughing at her own remark.

“Wait, hang on, that’s fucked up, Rob.” Steve can’t help but laugh despite his words.

“I’m just being honest!”

“Hold on, back up, what’s this ‘King Steve’ shit?” Frankie’s so amused as the shade of embarrassment across Steve’s face spreads to his neck, only growing deeper. 

“Oh, it’s— let’s not—“ He tries shrugging it off with a ‘pffffttt’ noise and a nervous laugh. “I told you before, I- I was… not the greatest person in high school.”

“He was a dick,” Dustin bluntly points out, and Steve shoots him a glare.

“Never expected to ever become best friends with him before everything happened at Starcourt,” Robin’s honesty makes Steve shake his head. “That’s not a bad thing, dingus. Just a wild plot twist!”

“Big boy over here hated me,” Steve’s ready to fight Eddie as he speaks the truth. “If it weren’t for Dustin, he’d probably still hate me.”

“Or, you probably would’ve stabbed my neck with that fucking broken beer bottle first.”

“Whoa, man. Thought that water was under the bridge.”

“I’m just saying!”

Dustin turns to Frankie, paying no mind his two older brother figures. “Ignore those children,” She giggles while they both glare at her, then Dustin. “I wanna know what touristy things we should do before we move here.”

“We are not children! You’re the infant, Dusty Bun,” Eddie snaps back with a grin.

“Only Suzie can call me that, and you know it!”

“Well, I—“ Frankie holds her hand up to Eddie, and his jaw drops. “Are you telling me to talk to the hand?” He pulls out the dramatics, clutching his chest. “Frankie... How could you?”

“Anyway, I got lots of fun suggestions!” She turns from Dustin, eyes darting between Eddie and Steve. “No children allowed, though.”

Robin, meanwhile, is cracking up during all of this.

“What if we kiss and make up?” Eddie cracks while he waggles his brows at Steve, who rolls his eyes and reels back.

“Eddie, man, get the hell away from me.”

He simply shrugs, “Your loss.”

Dustin throws his hands up, blocking the two of them out of his sight. “Can we ditch them? I wanna ditch them.”

Steve scoffs, “You little shit—“

His one hand balls up, poking his middle finger at the two of them, attention still on Frankie.

“Actually… there is something I still haven’t tried yet,” Frankie mentions, shyness pouring out suddenly, almost worried of rejection. “If you guys are up for it, that is.”

ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨

Everything’s surreal up this high from the Sears Tower, and Steve? Oddly enough, for how cautious and anxious of a person he has become, he loves this. There’s something that puts him at ease being above the city’s grid and all the chaos and routine running through it.

But Frankie? The idea in theory sounded exciting, but now that they’re all up here…

 “Oh… no, it’s— “ She eyes the window behind Steve, freezing in her tracks feet away. Tensing up, she’s nervously babbling, “I’m— you enjoy it, I’m good right here— safe— I- I’m safe here.”

Frankie keeps her distance from the window, leaning onto her cane and fidgeting with the wrist strap. She’s afraid to peer over the edge of the railing, despite the thick glass, terrified of the height they’re at.

Steve turns back around, holding his hand out to her. “C’mon, I got you.”

“Yeah but what if there’s, like, a freak accident and the glass breaks and I fall? And you’d fall, too. If we died ‘cause of me, I’d never forgive myself.”

It sounds absolutely absurd, and Frankie expects Steve to poke fun at her, but he only continues holding out his hand toward her.

“Frankie.” He gives a reassuring smile, only to crack, “You wouldn’t be able to forgive yourself if you’re dead.”

“Steve, that’s not helping!” She laughs a little, but she’s frozen in place. Steve steps closer, hand still extended toward her.

“You’re safe, I promise.” Steve doesn’t want to push Frankie if she’s truly uncomfortable, but she’s been excitedly talking about the observation deck all day, and would hate to see her miss out on the view. “Like you told me, you won’t let anything hurt me, so I won’t let anything hurt you. I swear.”

With a trembling hand, she grasps onto his, letting Steve guide her over to the railing. She takes a deep breath as he stands behind her, glancing down toward the city’s aerial view for just a second. Eyes widening, she spins around to walk off, but bumps directly into him instead with an “oof!”.

“Nope, not so fast,” He grabs her shoulders, slowly turning her back around to stay at the window. Steve stands behind her, hands lazily gripping the railing as his arms cage her in. He leans down to her ear, murmuring, “You’re always safe with me.”

Frankie sets her cane against the railing, hands slowly sliding over his, fear-fueled trembling beginning to slow. She mutters more to herself, in reassurance, but Steve still hears it, “Safe with you.” 

Off in the distance, boats sail along the green-blue hue of the lake, while the sunshine’s reflection glitters along the surface. Standing alongside the buildings feels strange, and the view of the cars and people and trains from up here just make them look like toys. There’s not a cloud in the sky today, but Frankie’s sure if there were any, they’d be close enough to reach out and touch.

A few feet away, they hear Dustin say the timeless, “I can see my house from here!” joke. They both burst into snorts and giggles, with Steve glancing over to the kid— Dustin’s always going to be a kid to him— he’s considered a younger brother for so long now, watching the way he enthusiastically smushes his face against the glass. 

“What house? He’s literally looking out at the lake,” Steve stifles a laugh, shaking his head, as Frankie takes a quick glance over, snorting. Eddie and Robin are pressed against the glass now, searching for whatever the hell Dustin’s pointing at. They’re standing on the railing, squishing only their faces against the windows.

Her brows crinkle, head tilting with curiosity. “Why are they pressed against the glass like that?”

Steve follows her stare, then returns to her with a knowing smile, “You know that scene in Ferris Bueller’s Day Off?”

Frankie shifts to face Steve, totally lost as her eyes meet his. “…. No.”

“Wh— are you kidding me?”

“I’ve never seen it…”

“First you tell me you’ve lived here your whole life, and never came up here until today, and now you’re telling me you’ve never seen that movie?!” She just shakes her head, smiling with a cringe. “Wanna watch it later? But only if you’re up for it, though. If you’re not feeling well, you should rest— are you feeling okay now? Shit, I should’ve asked before we got here—“

“Steve.” Frankie’s hands slip entirely away from his as she turns completely, leaning against the railing to look up at him. She’s so close, so close to him, it’d be practically effortless to lean in and kiss her.

Christ, stop thinking about that. We’re friends. Just that. Only that. Nothing else. Friends.

“I’m good aside from the fatigue, but I’m really glad we’re here, even if it’s a little scary.” She gives a nervous, soft chuckle, eyes landing on his lips, lingering for a second too long. Her eyes screw shut, nodding, “B- but I’d— yeah, I’d like that. I can’t promise I’d stay awake though.”

Now Steve’s mirroring Frankie, gaze falling to her lips, plush and pretty in the warm, soft smile she defaults to often. He sucks in a breath, forcing himself to bring his eyes back to meet her own.

“Yeah, that’s…” Steve, focus. “That’s fine. Maybe it’s better to hang at your place then, in case you need to rest. I- if that’s okay with you, of course.”

She hums in agreement, turning back to the window. Her hands slide back over his, “I’d like that a lot. All of us, right?”

While he was hoping for some alone time, it makes him happy to know she’s comfortable around his friends. Her friends, too. She glances back over to the other three, a smile pulling wider across her features as she watches them laugh and joke about god knows what.

“Your friends are fun to be around.” Frankie’s staring out to the skyscrapers nearby, gradually shrinking closer and closer to the ground the farther she looks out. Her thumbs sweep across the backs of Steve’s hands subconsciously; they still tremble a little, but the contact of her hands on his keeps her grounded. “Thank you for always including me.”

“They’re your friends too, y’know.”

“Oh I— I didn’t want to assume—“

Steve shakes his head, even though she can’t see. “You’re a part of this little, weird… whatever the hell kind of friend group we’ve got going on here.” He chuckles, “Unless it’s too weird for you, then I totally get it.”

Frankie tilts her head up and back, trying to look at Steve, grinning, “Yeah, ‘cause I’m the definition of normal.”

The way her eyes crinkle in her smile, nose scrunching as she teases, all Steve wants to do is lean down and kiss her, even if the angle is awkward. 

Quit thinking about kissing her, don’t make it weird.

 It’s such a strange, grey space to float in; they’re so comfortable around one another, with touches that aren’t fleeting anymore, they linger. They’ve been flirting, mostly teasing one another, displaying little acts of affection that stick with Steve for days— but nothing has come from it. Nothing more, at least.

Even if he and Frankie were stuck in this cycle of friends with a hint of more, he’d be happy. He longs for more, but he’s just grateful to know her, bonded together by unique circumstances. By now, Steve’s learned not to depend on one person for happiness, but is it such a crime to naturally feel elated by someone’s presence, and how well they flow with you?

“S’pretty from up here.”

“See? Not so scary, huh?”

She shakes her head and speaks faintly, it’s barely even a whisper, “Not with you.” Making the move first, she spreads his fingers apart with her own, lacing them together while still resting her palms against the backs of his hands.

There’s something. This has to be something.

Steve doesn’t think, doesn’t hesitate before he gently kisses the top of her head.

Frankie’s blushing wildly, though he can’t see, and feigning disgust through a scoff, “Gross, Steve.” She giggles as she squeezes his hands, while he scoffs a laugh.

“I’ll remember that, Amato.”

“Shh, Steve, shut up, I’m busy sightseeing” She’s shaking as she tries holding back more laughter, pointing to the lake. “Oh! I can see my house from here!”

“See!” Dustin shouts. “Frankie gets it!”

Yeah, ‘Key, you fit right in.

ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨

Frankie finally watches Ferris Bueller’s Day Off, and giggles throughout the entire movie, sharing a loveseat with Steve. The two inch closer to one another over time, and halfway through the second movie, Poltergeist, she’s hiding her eyes behind her fingers. Steve teasingly pulls her hands from her face, so she ducks her head into his chest.

“We can turn it off if you want,” He whispers to her, but she shakes her head.

“No, I love horror movies, m’just a big wimp,” She rolls her eyes at herself, despite Steve barely being able to see it. 

“Think you might’ve picked this one just to have an excuse to cuddle,” He bravely teases, hoping it’s not a touch too far. Relief floods through him as she snuggles into him even more.

She tilts her head up and glares back at him playfully. “Maybe… maybe not.”

“Jesus H. Christ,” Eddie hisses from the couch he’s sprawled out on. “Can you two lovebirds shut up?”

Both Frankie and Steve sit up with defenses, “We’re not like that—“ and “He’s— we’re friends!”

“Yeah, and I’m straight,” Robin mutters from the floor, earning a cackle from Dustin over in the recliner. 

Sighing in annoyance, Steve lays back down, pulling Frankie with him as her face turns red. Embarrassment and irritation flows between the two of them. Their friends mean well, really, they do; it’s just lighthearted teasing. Yet it still tugs at the reminder for Steve to not get caught up in feelings that won’t be reciprocated.

Yawning, Frankie wraps her arms around Steve’s waist, face resting and squishing up against his chest to watch the movie, but it’s not long before she’s fast asleep.

This isn’t new, not Frankie falling asleep on, or near Steve, at least. It hasn’t happened in front of his friends, though, and his interest in the movie is long gone, now focusing it all on the girl he’s been falling terribly hard for. 

As Steve plays with Frankie’s hair gently, sinking into the pillows so, so carefully, trying to get comfortable without waking her, attentive to any faint noises she makes in her sleep, worried she’s going to wake up in more pain— he has no clue his friends are watching him.

Robin notices first, catching in the corner of her eye the awkward way Steve shifts against the cushions, throwing his legs over the armrest, holding Frankie close to him. She snores once, so softly, but it makes Steve smile. His fingers run up and down her spine, slowly, gently, ghosting their touch along her back in patterned caresses. His own eyes begin to grow heavy, and he fights sleep a few times, only to drift off regardless; one hand is woven in her hair, his other arm wrapped snug around her waist, keeping her secure against his own body.

Turning back to the others, Robin finds Dustin and Eddie admiring the two of them together, too.

“We should probably head out,” Dustin whispers as the older two nod. 

They collect their things, let the tape play through, quietly slinking out of Frankie’s apartment. On the way out, Robin sticks a note on Steve’s forehead, holding back a snicker as he scrunches his face up in his sleep.

Eddie quietly closes the door behind them, glancing up at Robin and Dustin once the door clicks shut.

“I know you guys have been friends with him longer, but I don’t think I’ve ever seen him so… comfortable with someone else.”

They make their way out of the building, with Robin agreeing, “Yeah, neither have I. Haven’t seen him this content with anyone in years.”

“Not even with Nancy, honestly,” Dustin adds.

There’s a silence that falls over them as they head down the sidewalk. They’re all thinking the same thing, but Eddie still has to ask.

“Do you think he—“

“Yeah, he totally does,” Robin cuts Eddie off.

Dustin just smiles knowingly. He’s called it, they all have from the start. Steve’s the last to know, the last to figure it out, like always, but he’ll get there. He always does.

This time, though, when Steve falls, Frankie will be there to catch him. They just know it.

ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨

A few days later, Steve comes into the shop, enjoying the warmth of another beautiful spring morning; he makes his way through the quiet, dark store while sunlight’s beginning to peek through the windows, spilling across the rows of records.

I could’ve sworn Frankie said she’s opening today, he wonders if he read his calendar wrong. The faint sound of weeping that floats out of the dark break room shoves that thought aside.

True to his personality, Steve rushes in, panicked and ready to protect his friend from whatever has her upset.  Frankie’s on the worn, beat up couch, head in her hands as she folds forward to her knees. The lights are off in the room, and he wonders if that was intentional.

“Hey, hey, what’s going on?” He drops his stuff on the floor, sliding onto the couch next to her. He’s ready to throw a comforting arm around her, but pauses, just to double check, “Is it okay if I touch you?”

Frankie sits up, quick to wipe her tears away. “I- I’m fine. It’s all good.” Her voice wavers, betraying her words. She won’t look at him, but she looks exhausted from what Steve can observe. Her bottom lip trembles, so she curls it inward, but her eyes crinkle at the edges as tears taunt her, ready to fall all over again.

“You’re not good,” Steve holds out an arm, signaling her to sink into his embrace, if it helps. She does, because it does help. She leans into him, and the tears start all over again. “You told me I had to be honest about what hurts me, I need you to be honest about your pain, too.”

“S’just a flare up.”

“Flare ups can be a big deal, ‘Key.”

“Well, I don’t want it to be a big deal!” Steve can empathize with her stubbornness; it’s so disheartening to do well for some time, just to crash into a flare up once again. It’s a constant, cruel reminder you’ll never be healthy. You’ll never get better. “I wish you’d drop it, Steve. I- I know you care, but I’m fine.”

It must be bad enough if she’s in denial like this.

Steve’s been doing what he can to learn more about lupus, to help comfort Frankie where he can in times like this; life has been hell for him with fibromyalgia alone, he can’t begin to imagine the pain and suffering Frankie feels with lupus. She carries herself so well most days, carefree and spirited, always smiling and cracking corny jokes or shooting off her sarcasm, while carrying love for everyone and everything good in her life.

If it weren’t for the tell-tale signs of a flare up, or using a mobility aid, one would never guess she’s sick from a quick glance, or brief interaction.

“What if I take over today? You can go home and rest—“

“No,” Her voice is firm, bitter, and doesn’t match her current appearance at all. Her ruined makeup has dried in streaks running down her face. Steve frowns, realizing she’s not herself at all.

“No?”

She sits up, eyes heavy with fatigue, and Steve notices the faint butterfly rash spreading rosy red across her features. Tenderly, the back of his hand rests against her forehead, eyes widening at the sudden temperature change.

“Jesus Christ, ‘Key, you’re burning up.”

“I know m’hot, don’t gotta tell me,” She jokes with a weak smile, if even existent at all. The faint smile flips into a frown with ease. “Steve, I never got your coffee— fuck. Shit. I’m so sorry.”

While alternating days of ordering each other’s coffees became a pleasant routine for Steve, it’s the last of his concerns right now, though.

“It’s just coffee, that’s not a big…” Bloodshot, glassy orbs glance back at him, breaking his heart. Hands cupping her own, he gives a gentle squeeze. “Hey, it’s okay, ‘Key. Seriously. Please don’t beat yourself up over that.” The fever’s getting to her— hell, this entire flare up probably has her on edge. Steve knows even when he has a cold, everything feels distant mentally; he can only imagine how rough a fever is along with other flare up symptoms.

“But I… I forgot.” 

Outside of flare ups, Frankie’s memory is usually sharp as a tack. Now, though, she’s lost in a fog of pain and a hint of delirium. 

“Hey, honey, it’s okay,” Steve surprises himself when the endearing term comes out with ease. “Do you still want— shit, wait, you probably shouldn’t have coffee right now— “ He squeezes his eyes shut, stammering, “Fuck, uh— tea? Maybe that’ll help, might be soothing. Would that work?”

“I got some at home, but I’m okay, Steve. I just need a second. B- but I can open today,” She’s up, and only on her feet for a second, reaching out to steady herself on something. Like the very first day they met, Steve acts quickly, catching her as she stumbles. Unlike that day, though, this time is worrying him.

“You’re not okay, and you’re not working today.” Steve’s tone is firm as he helps Frankie sit down safely. He kneels on the floor before her, hand slipping under her chin to lift her gaze up to his. “You’re not riding this fever out on a damn break room couch, either.”

Much to his surprise, she doesn’t argue back. Maybe the fatigue and aching has worn her down to nearly a shell of her usual upbeat, independent self. Defeated, she asks with one word, “Home?”

If cradling one another’s faces with their hands was an Olympic sport, both Frankie and Steve would be tied for gold. Both of his hands hold her face gingerly as he nods.

“Yeah, I’ll take you home.”

“No,” Her head shakes. Wrapping her fingers around his wrists weakly, she asks with bleary eyes, “Come home with me?”

There’s a pang in his heart; the sweetly phrased question is laced in pain and fatigue, and in another timeline, where Frankie and Steve are healthy, it’d be one to send his heart racing with excitement. Instead, it’s broken, tangled in the grief that comes along with yet another flare up.

Yet another reminder one never fully gets better with illnesses like these.

He gives her a pensive smile, “F’course, ‘Key.”

ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ

“You ever wish you could share your headphones with someone?” Frankie’s peering out her open bedroom window from her bed. She looks so cozy in a loose sweatshirt and gym shorts, nursing a cup of tea Steve made for her. The Tylenol she took seems to be kicking in, which is a relief to Steve; her temperature earlier read 101 degrees, just above being a low grade fever.

There’s a comforting, gentle breeze coming from the window, giving her some relief from overheating.

Steve’s face crinkles with confusion as he laughs. “What?” He’s on the opposite end of her bed, wearing the same pair of sweats she let him use the first time he came over, tea mug sitting empty on the windowsill.

 “Yeah… like, when you wanna listen to the same tape with them, or something?”

“… Just use a stereo?”

“Not the same! There’s something intimate about sharing your favorite song with someone in real time, y’know?”

No, he wouldn’t. He’s never been into music enough— nor have his past partners and friends— to think about something sweet like that. Maybe Robin or Eddie would find it fun, but they all have vastly different tastes in music.

“I- I wouldn’t know.”

“Someone should make headphones, but they go inside your ears,” She turns to Steve, golden hour of the day’s sunset gleaming over her worn features. How the hell is she always so beautiful? “Like, little, tiny earplug-like headphones,” She pinches her thumb and index fingers together, holding them by her ear. “And they’d be connected by a wire on each, right? So it’d be so easy to share with someone else. Each person uses one of the earplug-headphone-thingies.”

He teases, “Oh, is that the patented name for it?”

“Yeah! M’gonna invent it. You just wait,” She sets her mug next to Steve’s, sinking under the covers a little further with a sigh, eyes heavy with fatigue. “Then we can share our favorite songs together.”

Shaking his head with a chuckle, Steve’s captivated by the sunlight gleaming along her figure; even covered in blankets and comfy layers, there’s something angelic about the scene of her before him.

“So, we gotta wait ‘til you invent those headphones?” He scoots to her side of the bed, sliding under the covers next to her. 

“Earplug-headphone-thingies, Steven,” She corrects him.

“Just because you’re in a flare up doesn’t mean you get to throw my full name around like that.”

“You’re right, it’s unfair if I don’t know your middle name.” She rolls towards him, poking his chest, “Spill it, Harrington.”

“Absolutely not, Francesca.”

“That’s another quarter.”

“Jesus, have some mercy, will ya’?”

“Hm… might spare you if you hold me.”

“You’re asking for a lot,” Despite his teasing, Steve winds his arms around Frankie, bringing her closer. She’s still too warm, but it’s not as intense as earlier, thankfully. He’s just above a whisper as he asks, “How’re you feeling?”

She sighs, tucking her face into his shoulder, “Honestly, I feel terrible.” She falls into silence, long enough that Steve wonders if she fell asleep.

“‘Key?”

“Y’know, the night you told me about everything… with Hawkins, and the Upside Down… when I found you outside, you told me you didn’t want me to see you like that.” Frankie’s on the edge of a mirthless chuckle, “I remember thinking that we’re both sick, we’re bound to see the worst of one another’s illnesses at some point… but now I can’t stop feeling the same as you did— I really never wanted you to see me like this.”

“You’re right, it’s kinda inevitable two sick friends would see each other at their lowest points, but that won’t drive me away.”

“That’s the thing, though. We’re both sick. What happens when our flare ups occur at the same time? Even if you’re not in a flare, you’re still in pain. I feel awful that you’re pushing yourself to take care of me.”

That doesn’t matter when you love someone.

Steve’s grateful Frankie can’t see his face right now, eyes wide as saucers as the truth finally collides with his thoughts he won’t dare to speak aloud. He prays she can’t feel the way his heartbeat practically stops, or how he’s holding his breath, afraid to exhale a confession.

… Oh.

He can’t tell her; even if he wanted to, this isn’t the time right now. So now he has to sit with this revelation in silence, shove it to the farthest corner of his mind. And really, is it even much of a revelation to begin with? He’s known about his feelings toward Frankie for months now, but to effortlessly think about caring for her as an act of love, that’s… that’s new.

How the hell do I tell her without actually telling her?

 “You’re always caring for me through your pain, let me do the same for you.” Steve’s fingers run through her hair, ever so gently, afraid he’ll hurt her somehow in such a vulnerable state. “I care about you, Frankie. A lot.”

“That’s what scares me.”

“Huh? What do you mean by that?”

Frankie rolls onto her stomach, crossing her arms in front of her on the pillow before resting her chin on them, eyes refusing to meet Steve’s.

“Five years ago you were leaving behind the worst shit you’ve ever experienced,” She doesn’t give into crying, despite the way her voice wavers and bottom lip wobbles, ever so slightly, in a pout. “Five years ago, I had the worst flare up of my life. I never went through one so intense before that.”

Steve turns to her, arm still draped over her torso lazily. He stays quiet, ready to listen, fingers tracing slow circles on her back.

“Usually, it was joint pain, some mild inflammation in spots, the rash I have on my face now, low grade fevers— common, mild lupus symptoms.” She sounds so worn down, but holds strong. “But the worst flare up went beyond all of that. It just got worse, and worse; I had rashes that turned into sores all over, fatigue made it literally impossible to stay awake, I was losing hair, and I couldn’t walk much without my legs giving out. That alone made me severely depressed, too. Just a constant cycle of bracing myself for the worst, and worrying if it’d ever get better or not.

“The usual meds I took weren’t enough. Nothing was getting better. I woke up one morning and couldn’t physically leave bed, like m- my legs would not move.” She tilts her face into her arms, trying to hide what she can of her face as tears threaten to break. “I was paralyzed, Steve. I’ve never been so fucking scared in my life.”

It’s as if the oxygen was sucked out of the room instantly; Steve feels his heart sink as his breathing hitches in place. He can’t wrap his head around how terrifying that must’ve been for her. How terrifying it’d be for anyone.

“And, y’know, like a stubborn idiot, I tried hiding it from my dad, but that just earned me an ambulance trip and upsetting him more than I was trying to avoid to begin with. I didn’t want him to worry, but that backfired. He still worries so much, and maybe that’s ‘cause he’s— I- I don’t know, it sounds stupid, but I think he’s afraid to lose me the way he lost my mom.”

That would explain why Dr. Amato felt panicked enough to ask Steve to step in and check on Frankie. It explains why she’s so quick to shrug off her own pain.

“It’s not stupid at all, Frankie. He worries because he cares, it’s what parents do.”

Except mine.

Steve shoves that thought away, too; again, not the time. “So… what happened? What caused it? How— sorry, this is gonna sound ignorant, but how are you able to walk now?” 

“Damn, Harrington, one question at a time.” She breaks into a faint smile, one that Steve is relieved to catch a glimpse of. “Myelitis. My spinal cord was inflamed, and that causes a whole fuck-ton of problems, like partial or full paralysis. My limbs would go numb sometimes, or tingle like when your foot falls asleep, but I couldn’t shake it off. Made my arms and legs weak, and the pain was a nightmare. I was lucky enough to get treated in time to make a decent recovery, but it’s why I still can’t control my hands sometimes,” She laughs with an eye roll, but it’s bitter and short, “Like when I dropped my damn coffee.”

Steve figures as much, but it comes full circle when he remembers a conversation he and Frankie had the first day they spent together.

“Do you just paint as a hobby?”

“I actually had plans to become a tattoo artist, did an apprenticeship and everything.” 

He can still hear the disappointment and grief in her admission of giving up on a dream.

“Can’t really tattoo when you’ve got unpredictable hand tremors, though. S’why the paintings are such a wreck.”

Frankie finally opening up only makes that memory even more gut wrenching to think about.

“Is that why you couldn’t become a tattooist?” 

She only nods, balling up the ends of her sleeves in her fists, squeezing the fabric in her palms roughly.

“Took months to recover, with a ton of physical therapy and IV treatments, since my meds weren’t working. I used a wheelchair for awhile, sometimes still do on my worst days… but things are— were going so well lately,” Frankie still won’t look at Steve, but even from what he can see, her stare grows distant as the memory tries to pull her out of the present. “My hair obviously grew back, and I can walk, most of the time with a cane, but it’s better than nothing. And I— there’s a lot of parts of me I don’t like showing, ‘cause I have scars from the sores. My skin’s all mottled and veiny. Looks aren’t everything, but it still sucks when you look bad on top of feeling bad. I was disgusted with myself every time I saw my reflection.”

That also breaks Steve’s heart; Frankie’s right, looks aren’t everything, but it certainly doesn’t help to watch your body drastically change out of your control while already chronically ill. 

“If m’being honest, sometimes I still am,” She admits with her words cracking. “It’s hard to look at the damage my own body inflicted on itself and be okay with all of… that.”

Steve so badly wants to counter her beliefs with the truth before his eyes; Frankie is truly the most beautiful person he’s ever known. Yet, he doesn’t want to come off as if he’s romanticizing the situation, nor does he want  to make it seem like he’s being nice, just to placate her self doubt.

“All of that was so hard to survive, even after the threat of paralysis, or death, were gone. I didn’t want to stay anymore, it was so hard to find joy in anything, or plan for a future I wasn’t sure was mine to begin with.” Finally, she turns on her side, gaze locking with Steve’s as she breaks; tears spill down her face as she curls into herself. “The few friends I had got sick of me being sick, eventually stopped talking to me. I was alone and afraid to try talking to anyone new.”

“What about Rhi and Cade?” This has been on his mind since Dr. Amato told Steve he’s the closest person to Frankie right now. “Aren’t they your friends?”

It’s a fractured smile, then a huff, “Kinda. Rhi’s busy with school, and Cade’s always with his boyfriend, so I never see either of them unless it’s getting coffee. At least there’s that, but growing apart because of life sucks. It’s just…everyone is busy, and I get it… but being alone for so long hurt. Hurt real bad. Probably why I came on so strong when I met you.”

“That wasn’t how I saw it. You have no clue how glad I am that you talked to me first.” Gingerly, he pushes stray hairs from her face, fingers trailing down to her cheek before resting his hand there. He sweeps his thumb along her cheekbone, really noticing the size difference between their hands as she wraps her hands around the one on his face. “I wanted to say something at the coffee shop, but it didn’t feel right with everything going on. You were also way too fucking cool for me to approach you first.”

Frankie giggles through her tears. “You’re just being a kiss-ass now.”

“Swear to god I’m not. You—“ He resists spilling the truth, watering it down to, “— you’re the best thing to happen to me in a long fuckin’ time, ‘Key.”

 Her laughter and tears shedding evolve into steady crying, eyes screwing shut as she shudders a breath. 

“I— god. I want you so much closer, Steve, but I’m so fucking scared.”

His heart skips a beat, and he’s dying to ask what that means, but she only cries harder. Steve winds his arms around her, gently, holding her once more. 

Is Frankie scared he’ll leave? She’ll get “too sick” for him and he’ll walk away? Or maybe she’s scared something will happen to her, hurting Steve emotionally.

“You’re not going through this alone. Whatever happens, I’m right here with you. Nothing will change that.” He means every word. “You’re so important to me, ‘Key.”

She hiccups, face buried in his neck. “But what if I—“

“Frankie.” He pulls back to grab her face softly, eyes never leaving her own, despite how hard it hits to see her so broken. He’s unsure where it comes from, but he responds with his own vague confession, “When you’re ready, you tell me. Until then, I’m by your side as much as you allow. M’not going anywhere, not without you.”

Steve hopes, prays, wishes on some shooting star in a night sky somewhere above the world that they’re on the same page, that she’s saying what he thinks she means. That he’s saying what she wants to hear.

There’s no verbal response, no way to tell for sure they’re seeing eye to eye, just Frankie holding him tight with weak arms. She ducks her head back into his shoulder, body heat is still high; Steve’s bracing himself for the worst, but right now, he hopes she knows just how cared for and loved she is.

When Steve promised Frankie’s dad at his appointment that he’d do anything to keep her safe, and swore to her high above the city that she’s safe with him, he meant every fucking word.

As if Frankie can read his thoughts, she murmurs into his shoulder, “Safe with you.”

[starry-eyed-steve-library]

You make me feel alive (steve harrington x fem!reader)

Based on the song Rio by Duran Duran

can be read as a part one to this fic or on its own

Idiots in love, mutual pining, light angst, background Jancy, reader is described to wear a bikini.

ps. a game & watch is like the 80s version of a nintendo DS

3.4k words <3

Steve didn't know when his all consuming infatuation with you began. Maybe it had alway been there, the throat tightening, cheek blushing , knee wobbling, soul crushing feeling that only your presence seemed to elicit. But it was getting rather annoying.

Don't get him wrong we wouldn't trade his friendship with you for the world but constantly having to hold himself back from confessing his undying love for you or some other irreversible truth that would surely ruin your friendship was exhausting.

The sun had been beating down on Hawkins unrelentingly for weeks, pushing the small town and its residents to the brink of melting and so to avoid such a fate, plans had been made amongst your group to drive up to lake Michigan.

Steve of course was ​​unwillingly nominated to drive as well as Nancy so the group was split between his BWM and Nancy's moms borrowed station wagon. A fight had ensued that morning when the group was choosing who to ride with with each option having its pros and cons. Steve's car had the better air-con which was a necessary luxury in the Indiana summer but Nancy lets other people pick the music unlike Steve who cites that he's driving so he gets to choose the radio station. Eventually (and after much debate) you, Robin, Eddie and Dustin rode with Steve and everyone else crammed into Nancy's car. 

The drive was only a few hours and the group had set off early to beat the traffic, or had attempted to, but apparently some people (Eddie) needed their beauty sleep. Despite the air-con remaining on full blast, the heat couldn't be ousted causing the road up ahead to become a mirage. However the heat wasn't on the forefront of Steve's mind, instead his focus was pulled toward the hushed conversation taking place between you and Eddie in the backseat. He couldn't make out what either of you were saying but he could hear your quiet giggles and see that due to the lack of space, thanks to Dustin calling shotgun, Eddie and you were sitting very close together. Eddie, ever the gentleman, had taken the middle seat with you and Robin on either side. Robin had zonked out within the first 20 minutes and had monopolised all of her and most of Eddie's seats meaning Eddie was currently crowding your space, not that you seemed to mind, which infuriated steve to no end, not that he could say anything about it because steve wasn't your boyfriend so had no right to comment on the situation however this realisation only infuriated him further.

Thankfully Dustin hadn't noticed Steve's indignation despite him practically having steam shooting from his ears, although Steve could’ve grown a second head and Dustin wouldn't have noticed as he was too busy playing mario bros on his game & watch, which he was surprisingly bad at. 

“Son of a bitch”

Steve turned to see Dustin shoving his game & watch back into his backpack after losing yet again.

“It's probably rigged anyway plus my jump buttons jammed so it’s not even my fault” Dustin sighed in defeat as he slumped back into the seat with his arms crossed.

“Maybe you're just shit” Eddie teased whilst shoving another handful of Doritos into his mouth.

Dustin turned his head to glare at Eddie as you slapped him on the arm.“And since when were you so good a mario munson?” you asked whilst poking him in the chest.

Eddie grabbed your finger as he retorted “since birth, obviously”.

Dustin rolled his eyes “Mario wasn't around in the prehistoric age dickhead”.

Yet another argument ensued. 

The snarky comments and constant touching between you and Eddie bothered Steve then it occurred to him, was Eddie flirting with you? The question bounced around in Steve's head until a much worse realisation overtook it. Were you flirting with Eddie ??? His knuckles turned white with how hard he gripped the steering wheel as jealousy washed over him, he knew he shouldn't have been jealous, you and Eddie were both single and neither of you knew that Steve was hopelessly in love with you … or something less intense to that effect. 

“-and if you think that i'm going to let you even touch my game & watch with your nasty ass Dorito fingers, you're insane” 

“Ugh say it don't spray it” Eddie mumbled as he wiped his cheek with his sleeve.

Steve was still trying to figure out a way to murder Eddie and make it look like an accident when you leaned forward to ask how much longer the trip was. Your gentle smile as you made eye contact with him through the mirror made him forget you even asked him a question until you said “stevie ?”.

He felt his face heat up at the use of the nickname that he claimed he hated. Because he did hate it, when it was used by anyone other than you.

“Uhh probably like another half hour” 

You nodded absentmindedly as you settled back into your seat and pulled a book from your bag.

The half hour passed fairly quickly with the only hiccup being when Eddie and Dustin started arguing yet again because Dustin wouldn't share his nerds which resulted in Eddie trying to snatch the whole pack and spilled them everywhere.

As they approached Porter beach the busier it became, Steve started to wonder if they would ever find somewhere to park. Eventually they found a spot next to a parking meter which wasn't too far from the beach, Steve got out to pay only to realise he had no change. “Oh shit” Steve mumbled while patting his shorts pockets.

“What?” you tilted your head at him as you asked. You were still sitting in the car with the door open rubbing suncream on your legs. Steve had to consciously hold himself back from asking if you wanted him to do it for you, partly because he liked helping you and partly for more selfish reasons. Instead he shook his head as if to physically expel the thought from his mind.

“Do you have any change?” he asked sheepishly. 

“Uhh, oh you know I think I do” you wiped any excess suncream on your top and grabbed your bag to start searching through it.

“How much do you need?” you looked up at him with a smile when you said it. It was subconscious, the way you always smile at Steve when you talk to him, he brings it out in you.

Steve looks down to check the price on the meter “A buck twenty-five” 

“Aha, here you go” you pull the dollar bill and coins out of your purse and hand it to steve. 

Your fingers brushing up against his made you both dizzy. Instead of either of you acknowledging the feeling Steve turned away to put the money in the meter and you finish putting on your suncream and decide it would definitely be safer to ask Robin to do your back because having Steve rub his hands all over your back could be something you never recover from.

As Steve looked around it became apparent that every family in Indiana had had the same idea to visit the lake, hell it looked like every family in the goddamn midwest was currently lying out on their beach towels taking advantage of the sunshine.   

“Looks like we have some competition” Eddie said as he sauntered up beside Steve and slung his arm around his shoulders.

Steve looked at Eddie alarmed, not having realised the boy was talking about space on the beach for them to sit and not competition for your attention. Steve wasn't sure why his mind had jumped straight to you, but it was becoming a common occurrence. 

He saw Nancy and the rest of the group walking toward them as him and Eddie finished pulling all the bags out the trunk. Steve set yours, Robins and his stuff aside from him to carry and called the other two over to get their stuff.

“Jesus we have a lot of shit” Eddie murmured to nobody in particular.

You and Robin were crouched down trying to get all the nerds out of Steve's car as Robin lectured Dustin about having food fights in an enclosed space. You noticed that Steve had slung your bag over his shoulder and so you walked up beside him to knock against his arm as a thank you, the two of you were good at that, communicating without words. Steve always knew what you were thinking, well most of the time he did, you hoped against hope that he had not clued in on your very obvious, very embarrassing crush on him.

“Okay, are we all ready ?” Nancy asked as she effortlessly took on the leader role which she claimed to hate doing but refused to relinquish as no one else met her standards. Steve would argue he could do it as he led a group of preteens through the demodog tunnels with no fatalities but she'd probably argue that letting them go into the tunnels in the first place was incredibly idiotic. 

It took them a good twenty minutes to find a patch of sand that wasn't covered by sun burnt middle aged women or children digging holes. 

You and robin walked arm in arm mostly to stop robin falling due to her perpetual clumsiness. Steve, Eddie and Jonathan were given the heavy stuff, normally you would argue how it was inherently sexist to give the men the heavy things but it was hot out and carrying like a bajillion bags would only make it worse so you decide to cut your losses. The teens all walk in a group behind you, all complaining about the long walk and the sand and how they want to go swimming now and how their bags are heavy. Nancy looks fed up with them already and you can't blame her.

Finally you spot somewhere to set up.

“How about over there?” you asked as you pointed at a relatively shady but most importantly empty space on the beach.

“Oh thank god. I think my arms are about to drop off” Eddie said as he made his way over carrying the cooler with him. 

You paid no attention to Eddie's dramatics as you were admiring a now shirtless Steve. The scattering of moles on his back paired with how his muscles were flexed due to him carrying about 5 peoples bags was mouthwatering. You would have stood there ogling all day had Jonathan not nudged you whilst giving you a knowing smirk. You gave him a shy smile and vowed to blame the heat if anyone asked why your face had gone red whilst running to catch up with the group. 

Once all the blankets were laid and Robin had coerced you into rubbing a thick layer of suncream on her back due to her aptitude for burning you could finally take your shirt off to cool down revealing your bikini underneath. Had you been paying attention you would've seen Steve watching you intently with a slight blush across his face which he, like you, would swear was sunburn. You then would have seen Eddie catch Steves staring and wiggle his eyebrows at him wittingly which caused Steve to have no choice but to throw a handful of sand at him. 

“my HAIR. What the fuck Steve” Eddie gasped as he tried to shake the sand out.

Max and El screamed as Eddie's head shaking covered them with sand.

“Stop, Eddie stop that's not doing anything” you giggled as you reached your hands into his hair to brush out any remaining sand.

“See Steven this is true friendship, right here” he said as he gestured to you.

Steve's jealousy had reached an all time high. He thought seeking his revenge against Eddie would make him feel better however it had backfired ridiculously and though he knew it wasn't Eddie's fault and he had no way of knowing Steve liked you that didn’t mean Steve wanted to strangle him any less. Okay maybe that's a bit dramatic, Eddie was still his friend and all he just wished you were running your fingers through his hair not Eddies. 

“Okay I think that's all of it” you say whilst smiling at Eddie.

“Thanks, I owe ya” he says with a wink.

“If you two are done flirting, can we go swim now ?” Mike mocks.

You blush even harder and Eddie squawks, “I feel sorry for El if you think that was flirting”.

Mike rolls his eyes as Max joins in with taunting him.

“Okay okay, I want all of you to be wearing suncream, to stay near where we are and not to go too deep. Got it?” Nancy gives them all a good long stare as they murmur their agreements. 

Nancy nods her head and they take it as a sign to go. All of them tripping over one another, desperate to swim. Nearly all of them made it to the water without face planting in the sand.

Once all the teens had gone into the water, without missing a beat, robin pulled the cooler in closer. 

“Okay, who wants what? '' she asks while digging around inside “there's beer, cherry ice cream, soda if you’re boring and more beer” she says with a hinting glint in her eye.

“Oh so this is what teachers mean when they talk about peer pressure” you taunt with a grin.

“No no, no pressure at alllll” she says with little to no sincerity.

“Well some of us have to drive you all back” Nancy adds whilst gesturing to herself and Steve.

“Go on Nance you have one. I can drive on the way back” Jonathan offers. 

“No, i-” She considers it for a moment before huffing out a breath. “no it's fine. Someone needs to watch those lot” she says as she nods toward the water where Lucas, Will , Mike and Dustin were trying (and failing) to make a human ladder whilst Max and El played mermaids.

“Nance believe it or not, most of us are somewhat competent” Steve says whilst side eyeing Eddie. 

Eddie looks thoroughly offended before smirking and replying “that's a terrible thing to say Steve I thought she was your best friend” whilst wrapping his arm around your shoulders and pretending to comfort you. 

Steve gives Eddie a sarcastic smile before replying “I meant you dickhead”

Eddie gasps loudly knowing full well Steve had meant him. 

Steve pushes Eddie away from you and drags you into his side whilst wrapping his arm around your back 

“She's the most competent out of all of us”

Now it was Nancy's turn to be offended. But before any eye poking and hair pulling started Jonathan placed a can in Nancy's hand and kissed her cheek. 

“Alright let's get this partay started !” Robin declared before downing half a can of beer then coughing when she inevitably choked. She looked back up at all your bemused faces and said “what? we’re on vacation, live a little you guys” 

“Yeah, yeah come on guys” Eddie agrees as he reaches for his can of beer, downs the whole can and scrunches the metal in his hand then throws the can back into the cooler and finishes with a loud whoop. You and Steve share an amused look and Nancy looks a little frightened.

“I think i'll just stick to sipping” she retorts 

Robin and Eddie start booing until Jonathan throws Eddie's crumpled up can at them. 

You're still glued to Steve's side and would be quite content to stay there for the rest of the afternoon, if not eternity. He reaches into the cooler and grabs a can of beer and a can of soda before opening the beer and handing it to you. You thank him with, in his opinion, a glowing smile which he would like to believe is reserved especially for him. 

The conversation moves on and with the more you drink the more your mind seems to wonder. The afternoon passes by as you're deep in thought, passively adding to the conversation when you feel like it. The teens appear and then disappear sporadically as the hours pass, even Eddie and Jonathan were persuaded to get into the water. As the sun begins to set your mind settles on how warm Steve feels next to you, how nice his hand feels on your waist and how despite the sweltering heat you have no desire to move away from him. He looks over to check on you, smiling as he meets your eye.

“You good?” he asks quietly, his face mere inches from yours.

Before you can reply you feel a hand wrap around your wrist and your body is ripped from steves as you're hauled to your feet by a now very tipsy Robin.

You mourn the comfort and warmth you just lost and look at Steve apologetically. Robin pays no mind and drags you into the open space next to where you’re all sat.

“Dance with meee” her words are slurred and you can't help but think about the killer headache to poor girl will wake up with tomorrow.

“Robs we have no music” you giggle as you place your hands on her arms, half to ‘dance’ with her and half to keep her upright. 

“That never stopped anyone”

You don't quite agree with her statement but go along with it anyway grabbing her hands and jumping in circles with her in the sand. You make sure not to push it as her being sick is the last thing anyone wants. You twist and turn, stumbling in the sand and catching robin numerous times due to her incoordination being heightened by the alcohol.  She spins you in a circle and you feel the effects on the beer you've been sipping, you feel a haze of contentment wash over you as you continue to sway in the setting sun with a look of bliss on your face and Robin goes to find her next victim. 

Steve watches the entire ordeal and thinks that you've never looked more beautiful. Even with a small glob of suncream on your shoulder that you missed when rubbing it in and a sheen of sweat covering your skin, you shine. If he could look at you like this forever he'd be more than content. He damns himself for not bringing a camera but he supposes it wouldn't be able to capture the dazzle in your eye or the sway of your hips. You break from your dancing for a second to turn to Steve and give him the widest most shining smile he'd ever seen, he waved back at you and you stuck your tongue out at him and turned back to dancing as Steve chuckled softly to himself.

“We’re just friends y’know” Eddie's voice pulled Steve from his thoughts as he turned to look at the boy next to him. “I just- look I know you like her and all and I don't want any” Eddie pauses to think of the right thing to say  “...hostility between us. She's great, really great but were just friends”

“What Eddie, I don't-” he laughs awkwardly while scratching the back of his neck “I have no idea what you're talking about.” 

“Steve” 

Eddie meets Steve's eyes with a sad look on his face.

“The way you look at her, the way you were just looking at her. You'd be blind not to notice it”

“Notice what ?” Steve asks in a small voice, already knowing the answer.

“Love”

Steve looks back to where Nancy, you and Robin were all dancing and laughing in the sunset and thinks that maybe the throat tightening, cheek blushing, knee wobbling, soul crushing feeling that only your presence seemed to elicit, was something he couldn't bear to live without. It's like you had reached into his chest and carved your name onto his heart to command it to beat only for you, and the pain it had caused him was glorious. He decided then and there that keeping you by his side was his number one priority, no matter if that meant keeping his feelings to himself as long as you were around he would be okay.

[starry-eyed-steve-library]

wondering what zombie!au Steve might try to do for a sappy romantic surprise.. I feel like he’d get really excited about planning something intimate/small but really meaningful and tooth-rotting sweet.. maybe it’s for a birthday? or just for a spot of cheer?

Before the apocalypse, Steve was desperate to be loved. None of his girlfriends ever seemed that interested in more than sex or popularity, and if they were, they’d realise they wanted more than Steve soon after. He spent years wishing somebody would look at him and find exactly what they wanted. 

And you do. 

You look at him like he’s your everything (when you aren’t complaining, that is). “I’m gonna have to shave you myself,” you say, climbing into his lap, your hand tipping his head back less gently than you mean to, he’s sure. “That’s a wound.” 

“It’s a scratch. It’ll be fine tomorrow.” 

He grabs your waist, surprised but certainly not unhappy with your sudden presence. You’re straddling him. “Does it hurt?” You rub the area surrounding his raw skin. “Does that hurt?” 

“Not really.” He runs his hands up and down your sides. “What’s up?” 

You shrug. He leans back against the headboard as you wrap your arms around his shoulders. “We finally have a bed again.” 

He pulls you in for a hug. “Yeah?” 

“It’s so nice. I missed this.” 

“I missed this too. Clean sheets, a door that locks…” 

You understand what he’s hinting at. He isn’t subtle, but he’s also in no rush, and you know that too. “Maybe you can give me a massage later,” you murmur. “We still have some of that nice lotion.” 

He loves that, the thought of you on your front as his hands push up your shoulders, your skin and his palms warmed by friction. “What about me?” he jokes, hands sliding up your back, tracing the path he’ll make later on. 

“You can have one too,” you say, your face dropping down to his neck, where you kiss him mildly, like you’re thinking of something else. 

Steve wants to give the gift to you before he forgets it. You can be a very distracting person, not just because he’d like to encourage your lips to his for a good kiss, or because you’re the perfect partner for hugging under the covers. Maybe it’s because he loves talking to you, about everything and anything at all.

“Hey, so.” He encourages your head back, his hand on the nape of your neck. “I have something for you.” 

“Do I have to get off of you?” you ask. 

“No, you can stay there.” He reaches into his pocket. 

“Wait, you’re smiling. Are you that excited to give it to me?” 

“Pretty excited.” 

You caress the inside of his elbow. 

It’s probably why you’re so easy to love. Not that you love him, but your propensity for sweetness, and the way you show your own affection. If he didn’t need both hands for this next part he’d twine your fingers together and hold yours all night long. 

He pulls a small plastic bag from his pocket to show you the contents, then changes his mind and opens the bag to take it out instead. “I know you were pretty happy that I found your necklace in my jacket, but I got it for you such a long time ago, I’m not saying you shouldn’t keep it. You should keep it.” 

“I don’t think I could get rid of it,” you say, honest and curious. “You gave it to me to make me feel better. Do you remember?” 

“Yeah, I remember. You had a frown like no one’s business for days.” He finds the charm and lays it over his hand. The chain is slightly tangled, but he can fix that. “There wasn’t a box, but. I don’t know, it reminded me of us, and you need an upgrade, I think I should ask you to get married–”

You smile in surprise, “What?” 

“But I can’t find a ring. So I have to promise to get you one, and you can have this for the interim.” It’s an incredible skinny chain joined by two hearts. Steve knows it’s cheesy, it’s insanely corny, whatever, he’s smiling like a loon. “I figure it’s me and you,” he says, putting it in your open palm. “Linked together.” 

Your gaze moves between him and the necklace slowly. “You want to marry me?” 

Steve curls your hand closed over the necklace. Gentle, he takes your face into both hands. “I get that I haven’t been the best boyfriend, but you can’t really think I don’t want that, right?” 

He’s really asking, but you don’t answer.

“I would’ve married you a long, long time ago, if things were different,” he says, pulling you in for a quick kiss. “I would’ve asked,” he corrects softly, before stealing another kiss. 

You press your screwed up fist to his chest as you kiss him back. 

“Who says we have to have rings?” you mumble. 

The idea of calling you his wife is insanity. It trips him up, flips his heart, but he thinks you deserve the real thing. As real as it can get, considering. 

“I’m gonna keep looking,” Steve says. 

The way your eyes soften as he rubs your cheek sets everything he’s saying to you in stone. Who else could he ever want to be looking at him like this beside you? How lucky he is that you’d bother. 

“Thank you,” you say. 

Your face tilts down and he drops one hand, moving the other to just under your jaw, his pinky and marriage finger sewn behind your ear, middle and index on your cheek. He watches you and you turn your gift in your palm, waiting for you to lift your head.

“Thank you,” you say again. “Will you put it on me?” 

Steve strings it around your neck and clasps it at your chest before twisting it to sit properly. The new necklace is a bit shorter than your simple diamond. You could wear both without issue. 

You look down at them but can’t quite see them. “Does it look good?” 

“Yeah. Looks beautiful.” 

He wraps his arms around you again and looks up in to your face, chests coming together as he straightens his back and the gap between you closes just enough. You look down at him, your smile a mirror of his. Steve thinks being as in love with you as he is makes for its own kind of gift. Much better than a necklace, but he’ll keep trying to bridge the gap. 

He forgets everything else when you’re together. Everything. 

His face falls into your chest and collar against your necklaces. You press your face to his hair and cuddle him nicely. 

“Love you,” you both whisper at the same time. 

Your laugh tickles his scalp, warm breath in his hair. 

[starry-eyed-steve-library]

This was really heavy, needed to pause a few times to process. 💗😭

This series is so great at going in Steve's trauma. The way you describe it is amazing. Again, you're such a talented writer, especially because you still made it easy to have natural banter between discussing the most horrible stuff. 💗

All the characters felt true to themselves. The snack squad (I really loved that for some reason, it's cute 💗) was on point. Dustin and Eddie being themselves and trying to meddle. Eddie being high and trying to put his hair up, yes absolutely. But them also kinda being not equipped enough to handle Steve's problems. Like I know they are his friends and they get it to an extent but Steve is stubborn enough to stay closed off and not letting them help, it's just really realistic that they don't know what to do. Must be hard for them to see him quietly suffer like this. 💔 It also shows how trusting they are with Frankie. They (including Robin, who probably knows the most of his problems) let her go after him, knowing she could help. I mean to them she's still a stranger and yet they tell her everything. I just can't wait to see them become friends. Frankie definitely fits in well with the overall group. 💗

I love how you described Steve's reactions to trauma and ptsd. Him not wanting any help, thinking he's alone or overly apologizing for things is in character. Frankie asked him, who made him feel like he couldn't open up or be apologetic about it. Well, I'm looking at you, Duffers, for giving us nothing, lol. In the show, he doesn't deal with shit. He's always the one going out of his way to be apologetic for his past while simultaneously not being allowed to react negatively to anything. (Physical trauma or being around people who hurt him) No, he has to be always optimistic and positive, which isn't inherently bad. I think it's great he still has so much hope. However, because he doesn't deal with anything, it can become such a toxic mindset to have, and then it's gonna come crashing down on him. I just wanna see how his mind works. He can't keep pretending everything is normal. I don't have hope s5 will explore it. 😭

It's also very upsetting to me that nobody in the show even asks him how he's doing because he's always just fine. It feels like nobody seems to care, which is why I always gonna be a fan of reader or oc inserts who care about him like that. Frankie reassuring him that's okay for him to open up to her, without judgment is really special. It's what he deserves. 💗

The bathroom scene was really good, thank you for including Steve's scars and that they make him feel something. Not only from a more vain perspective, because let's be real Steve cares about his appearance. But also what they mean emotionally, a reminder for what he had to sacrifice. 😭💔

Your idea of what's gonna happen to Hawkins in s5 is so similar to what I think (based on the leaks we know). I totally see Hawkins being wiped off the face of the earth after essentially becoming the Upside Down. The government trying everything in its power to cover everything up is also gonna be a huge plot point. Though I do think our party will encounter Vecna face to face before defeating him lol.

Also thank you for touching on Steve's paranoia about everything. I feel like the show did such a disservice by framing his fears as being on the wrong side in s2. Like it was totally rational to be scared of the government who killed people simply for encountering El. He was just trying to protect people by not causing any commotion, which is in character. But yeah ugh I hate how s2 handled that. 😭(Sorry gonna stop now)

The end was really cute. I love how Frankie stayed and promised to keep him safe. After being the group's protector, he deserves a person who has his back and makes him feel safe as well. I can't wait to see how their relationship progresses. Kinda love that it's not super rushed, I think their friendship is a great basis for everything that will follow. 💗

accident prone

part three - young and bold with a heart of gold

Paring: Steve Harrington x Francesca “Frankie” Amato (fem!oc)

Summary: Steve returns home from the hospital, and with the help of his friends, he finally tells Frankie the truth about Hawkins, going anything but smoothly.

WC: 10.8k

Includes: hurt/comfort, angst, PTSD (dissociation, nightmares/flashbacks, panic attacks, survivor’s guilt, etc.), internalized ableism, canon retelling of events (mostly) up until what happens to Hawkins, realization of feelings, flirting, fluff, language, weed mention

series playlist ⋮ masterlist 

living dead - have mercy

↻ ◁ || ▷ ↺

“so tell me where to go / you shouldn't leave alone you are young and bold / with a heart of gold”

A/N: Y’all remember when I said this would probably be 3 parts total? Yeah… about that… this was supposed to only be one scene, but my hands slipped and I ended up with an entire chapter. lol my bad. I truly don’t anticipate going over 5 parts, honestly hoping to end it at 4. Though I love writing these two together, I’m not trying to drag this out. I hope y’all still enjoy reading this one, though! Thank you so much for all the support on the first two chapters; it means more than I can say that anyone’s reading this at all. love y’all!! 🫶🏻

ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ

Steve was home from the hospital, and while Dustin and Eddie insisted to hang out, Robin and Frankie, on the other hand, knew Steve needed to rest. That’s where the compromise came in; they agreed on visiting at Steve and Robin’s apartment, in case Steve needed to take some time to himself, they’d at least be home already.

Eddie somehow managed to convince Steve, while both were stoned, to tell Frankie everything about Hawkins and the Upside Down, and so far, it was going as they all expected.

Which was… not great.

“So… what you’re saying is, Hawkins is just a really fucked up version of Centralia?”

Steve stares at Frankie with a scoff, Robin laughs in disbelief of Frankie’s answer, Dustin throws his hands up with a groan, and Eddie only shakes his head. They all reply at once:

“Whoa, wait, that’s not even close—“

“Oh, dude, you can’t even compare the two.”

“You just heard all of that and summed it up to be the same as a mine fire?!”

“I’m sorry, did you miss the entire part where the Upside Down exists?”

Frankie stares wordlessly, eyes darting between them all.

“You don’t believe us, do you?”

“Could’ve told me before I got high, ‘cause maybe I’d believe it—“ She catches the flash of disappointment across Steve’s face, causing her to backpedal. “Look, this just sounds… fucking insane. I- I remember the news kept trying to push the whole ‘Satanic Panic’ narrative, but I…”

“‘Key, there’s a reason why Hawkins was literally wiped off the map,” His stomach churns as the words roll off his tongue.

Though Steve has grown to appreciate the life he built in Chicago, he misses Hawkins, misses his old life, even after having his heart broken to splinters, even after falling into the town’s harrowing turmoil, he misses it. Even after the permanent damage Hawkins and the Upside Down left behind from every gut punch, blow to the head, DIY’d stitched up wound, he’s homesick.

Homesick for a sleepy, midwestern town that’s been obliterated from existence. 

There’s no containing the truth of what really happened to Hawkins, but it’s just a tall tale to anyone on the outside looking in. The world saw a completely different chain of events, details muted and manipulated by the government to control the narrative. Even the majority of those who lived in town fell victim to the lies.

Steve Harrington is homesick for a mere memory, now. One that’ll only continue to fade over time.

Frankie’s at a loss for words, lips parted but nothing comes out. She just shakes her head, befuddled.

“C’mon, there’s no way we’d all make this shit up.”

“I mean…”

Pushing his glasses up, Steve shoves his hands to his eyes, rubbing profusely; a habit he’s picked up over the years out of frustration, or nervousness. 

“This shit is why I’m sick, Frankie.” His voice cracks, and he’s embarrassed immediately, but can’t let this go. He can’t even blame the heightened emotions on the weed, he’s not even high anymore. “This shit ruined my life.”

Steve knows how outlandish everything sounds, but he didn’t expect Frankie to be so skeptical, not when this is the background of what lead to his illness.

“You’re right. I’m sorry. It’s just so…” Frankie feels terrible now; she knew this played a massive part in Steve’s trauma and health, but caught up in the bizarre details, she lost sight of that connection. “How did you all… survive?”

Eddie’s more than willing to step in to add to proof; he lifts his shirt, startling Frankie at first, until the scars come into view. Long healed now, they’re still hard to miss. “Those fuckin’ bats did this to me, and I was hanging on by a thread when Dustin found me.” He releases the fabric, letting it shield the scar tissue again.

Trying to back Steve up, Dustin, the only sober one of the group, nods, then points to his other older brother figure, “Steve’s got a ton of scars too—“

Steve doesn’t want to talk about this anymore, sighing, “Guys, don’t—“

“Totally not the same as that, but when I get too high, it reminds me of that fucked up drug they gave us under Starcourt,” Robin adds for comic relief, shrugging with a weak smile. “And I am not trying to puke like that ever again. Or eat popcorn Steve pulled out of the trash.”

Frankie covers her mouth, holding back a laugh, glancing back at Steve, “You did what?”

He gives a breathy laugh, shaking his head, and hopes she can’t tell he’s forcing it. “Look, I was fucked up on whatever they drugged us with, and had my skull bashed in a bunch. Eating garbage popcorn was and still is the least of my concerns from that night.”

“You two were the worst that night—“

Cutting Dustin off, Robin and Steve both yell, “We were drugged!” The two best friends look at each other, bursting into belly-aching laughter, real laughter for Steve, this time. 

The conversation surrounding Hawkins and the Upside Down, while unfinished, naturally flows away into lighter topics. Steve’s mind floats off elsewhere, too.

‘Key doesn’t believe me. She probably thinks I’m crazy. Maybe I am. It sounds fucking crazy. It sounds like an urban legend, like some kind of campfire story. She has every right to be skeptical.

Everyone’s voices sound so distant and muted to Steve, as if he’s deep underwater. Like he’s sinking to the bottom, watching everyone else stay afloat. It’s how he feels often since leaving home; he struggles to keep his head above water, while those around him are swimming with ease, or some even on their own boats, sailing away without a hitch.

Of course I sound crazy. Maybe I should quit working with her. Maybe I should distance myself completely. Frankie has so much going on, she doesn’t need me and my trauma around.

She doesn’t need me.

The air in the room feels thin and scarce; his breaths quicken, but he tries keeping calm while his thoughts spiral. A wave of nausea hits him.

No one needs me.

Whatever has Robin cry laughing, Dustin snorting, and Frankie and Eddie in a fit of stoned giggles— it’s all completely lost on Steve. He can’t get himself out of his own head, not without dissociating to avoid what’s conflicting him currently; he’s worked so hard on dissociation in therapy, though, and he hates the idea of reverting back to that. Running away. Escaping reality. 

All because someone doesn’t believe him. Frankie’s more than just “someone” though.

What if I never got involved to begin with? Maybe I’d be living a life with ignorance instead of stress, instead of PTSD; maybe it would’ve been worth coming out of all of this completely clueless. Shoved in the dark, away from the truth. Wouldn’t have these ugly scars. Wouldn’t have these fucked up flashbacks. Wouldn’t have to feel as if I’m pulling my own teeth just to get out of bed every day.

“Steve?”

Everyone’s moved on except me. Even with trauma, everyone’s learned to live their new lives, keep growing. Keep moving forward. Everyone but me.

“Hey, Steve,” He feels light, gentle pressure on his arm, but he can’t bring himself to focus on the present.

As unhealthy as it is to ignore his newly learned coping mechanisms for dissociation, he’s oddly cozy here. He may be drowning in his overflowing thoughts, but there’s something about letting his body go on auto pilot and let his snowballing, rapid-fire thoughts take over that’s comforting. It’s like a security blanket.

One that’s ablaze in flames, eager to swallow him whole.

Why am I still here? There were others that deserved to survive, but somehow I’m the one still here. And every second I’m wasting on self pity over my pain.

“What can we do to help?” Frankie’s hand slips into his, squeezing softly; her colder skin against his own warm touch breaks him away from the episode of panic he was falling into.

It’s quiet among the group of friends, with everyone’s stares on Steve; he feels so small, so bothersome to stop their fun for yet another panic attack. 

I ruin everything.

“I…”

“Hey, man, we can go back to the hotel if you need rest,” Eddie offers, with Dustin nodding. “We’re in town for the week anyway, so it’s all good.”

I drive everyone away. 

What is considered the happy medium between wanting to hide away in shame and wanting to reach out for help? Where’s the middle ground between the two? Steve’s been searching for years, and still has come out empty each time.

“I—“ Steve can feel himself cracking, can feel the dreadful sinking sensation in his stomach while his throat runs dry. He can feel his mind separating from body, as if he’s watching himself on the outside. It’s an attempt to escape the thoughts, gnawing away at any good left in his life, but that attempt is a failure every time. “Air. Need air.” He pushes off the floor without further explanation, and leaves the apartment in a flash.

The trip down the hall and through the front door of the building is a blur; the edge of his vision fuzzes out, triggering an effect to make every inanimate object move, ever so slightly. Like the walls of the hallway are breathing. Like the floor beneath him is melting away. The high wore off long before this began, so he can’t even blame the dissociation on getting stoned.

This never gets easier to endure, even with the progress he’s made in therapy, but as long as he’s not dragged into any flashbacks, he’ll be okay.

I have to be okay. I have no other choice.

Steve can run as much as he’d like, but the past will always catch up to him. Envelope him in a never ending nightmare. Consume his entire being, taking control of every inch of his body, inside and out. The past always wins. The past is merciless. The past should stay in the past, but it’s got its claws hooked deep, dragging him back while everyone moves on.

He finds himself asking the question that’s always on his mind:

Does this ever get better?

“Steve?” A gentle voice breaks through the walls he haphazardly threw up in a haste. “Is it okay if I touch you?”

Still on auto pilot, he nods; an arm slides around his shoulders, pulling him into a comforting embrace from the side. Slowly, another arm winds around him from the front. It’s a lifeline thrown out to him, easing his own rescue out of the endless sea of self destructive thinking.

It’s Frankie; her voice is soothing, guiding him away from the panic, but not without one last fighting chance from his anxiety.

I need everyone, but no one needs me.

“That isn’t true,”  He must’ve let that thought slip out, and usually, he’d be embarrassed, but he just continues to meld into her touch. Her hold on him feels just as consoling as the night prior, in the hospital. “Robin needs you. Dustin needs you. Eddie needs you. I need you, too.”

He shudders as the panic reluctantly dissolves away. It sticks to the walls of his mind like glue, difficult to remove quickly and with ease.

“Never wanted you to see me like this,” The statement falls from his lips with a strained tone as he turns towards her. Resting his head on her shoulder, he shakes, hands wrapping around her waist, fingers gripping onto her sweater; his knuckles cramp and ache from his tight hold. “You think m’crazy, don’t you?”

“No way,” There’s no hesitation, no doubt in her answer. “I think what you all went through is crazy, but it was real. It is real, and I’m so sorry I doubted that for even a second. It’s so hard to wrap my head around, but it’s no excuse for the way my reaction hurt you. I’m sorry, Steve.”

“S’not your fault, it- it’s okay, really—“

Frankie pulls back, hand finding its way to his face; she cards her fingers through his hair, pushing it out of his eyes, worn and weary. They’re slightly glassy, too, taking their time to fill with tears. He acts before thinking, leaning into her touch; she doesn’t pull away, just tenderly holds him, thumb wiping along his cheekbone to push stray tears aside. The compassionate gesture curls his bottom lip, ever so slightly, trembling; he’s trying so hard not to break in front of her. 

“I don’t know who or what ever made you feel like you need to water down your pain and downplay accepting apologies, but please don’t ever feel like you need to do that with me.” Her gaze stays on him, even as he looks away. “You shouldn’t have to do that with anyone, ever.”

“I don’t want to upset you—“

“Steve.” She halts his overthinking with the same, reassuring, breathy way he addresses her when she spirals. He brings his eyes back to hers. “Your feelings, the way you’re hurting right now, that’s all far more important than if I’m upset or not. You mean well, I know you do. You’re always looking out for everyone first, but you’re allowed to put yourself first. You need to put yourself first in moments like these.”

Searching for the right words, Steve’s startled by a car honking as it passes by. His eyes dart all over, taking in his surroundings.

“When did we…”

“Come outside? You said you needed air, this is where I found you.”

He glances to the old and worn brick wall he was resting against, the filthy sidewalk he’s sitting on, the street lamp overhead, illuminating the two of them. There’s an ache, a sting of some kind along his back. It grows as he comes back to reality. 

One arm reluctantly pulls away from Frankie to reach behind him, hand splaying out onto his lower back, exposed. His own touch causes him to hiss in pain. Bringing his hand back around, there’s traces of blood along his fingertips.

Frankie’s grabbing his hand, alarmed as she inspects it. “Steve, what happened?”

“I— I don’t know,” she leans close to him, and if this was happening under different circumstances, he’d have a racing heartbeat. Her breath is right in his ear as she peers over his shoulder, hold on him firm, keeping him steady.

“Oh… Steve, your back is scratched up.” She pulls his sweatshirt up a little further, and the cool air is sort of soothing to him. “Did you slide against the wall?”

“ … I don’t remember.”

She lets the soft fabric cover the raw, scratched up skin before leaning back. “C’mon, let’s go inside, I can help you clean up.”

Steve’s first instinct is to downplay his pain, tell Frankie he’s fine, he can take care of it, he doesn’t need to make a fuss about it all. But he knows better with her; she won’t take no for an answer here, she’ll remind him he’s allowed to accept help, accept care.

Instead, he only nods, taking her hand as she extends it to help him up. His surroundings have stopped melting, his vision isn’t fuzzy and blurred at the edges, and though he’s still a bit disoriented, he feels grounded with Frankie’s hand in his.

Steve pushes past his self doubt, self loathing, accepting the care Frankie insists he deserves.

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By the time the two reach the apartment, it’s empty, with a note in Robin’s handwriting tacked to the fridge.

Went out to grab snacks! We’re good at that, huh? Steve, we’re getting your faves, and Frankie, hopefully we get yours right from what Steve told us. Be back soon! — snack squad ♡

All three of their scribbled signatures line the bottom of the note; Steve smiles and Frankie giggles. 

“You told ‘em what I like?”

He blushes and stammers, “Uh— I— just from what I remembered, like in case—“

“That was sweet, Steve.” Her hand squeezes his, still clasped together from the walk back inside. “Where’s all your first aid stuff?”

They end up in his bathroom, and without much thought, he pulls out a first aid kit, held together in a beat up tin lunch box. Frankie flips it open, rummaging through the supplies, pulling things out to continue searching for what Steve needs. Gauze, butterfly bandages, medical tape, splints are among the typical first aid kit supplies she sifts through. Then, she freezes as she comes across a needle and strong thread.

“Is this all from…” Trailing off,  she holds it up for him to see; Steve’s brows knit together, puzzled.

Oh. Shit.

He clears his throat awkwardly while nodding. “Yeah, it is. Haven’t used it in a while, but it’s— there’s something that makes me nervous about tossing it out.”

“You think you’d need it someday?”

“Sure fucking hope not.”

“Well,” She grabs his hips, twisting him around for a better look at his back. He faces the mirror, grateful he can’t make eye contact with Frankie from where she stands. Steve can feel the goosebumps prickling along his skin just from her touch. “Good news is, you don’t need any DIY sutures tonight. Or real ones.”

A mirthless laugh and an eye roll help him cope. “Thanks, doc.”

Frankie ignores him. “Are you okay standing?” Steve nods, and she sits on the closed lid of the toilet, pulling him back towards her. The unexpected movement startles him as he stumbles a little.

“Whoa— okay, Jesus, I said I can stand, that doesn’t mean you can manhandle me, Francesca.”

“M’gonna make a new swear jar like Betty has, except it’ll be for every time you use my full name,” She grumbles, placing the first aid kit in her lap. She tugs at the edge of his sweatshirt, “Off.”

His face burns up, head snapping over his shoulder with a bewildered stare, “Huh?”

“Can’t help with your sweatshirt laying over the scrapes.”

“Oh… right,” Steve hesitates, taking a few deep breaths before asking, “Is it okay if I just… lift it up enough? I’m— I don’t— there’s scars I’d rather you didn’t see if you don’t have to.” He’s tensing up under her touch, so her hands retreat.

“Steve, I understand. I have scars that I don’t like others seeing, either.” Her reassurance seems to help as he relaxes again. “Not like yours, but… I get it. And wounds are hard as hell for folks like us to heal from, so either you can let me, or someone else, clean them for you, or you’ll have to try on your own.” The firm sentiment isn’t to guilt him, nor shame him; he can tell she genuinely cares. She wants to help him.

“Right. You’re right. I— m’gonna just…” He tugs the sweatshirt up enough, but the awkward position immediately stiffens the joints in his arms and shoulders with an ache. 

Frankie frowns, noticing his discomfort. “Would it be easier to do this laying down? Then it’d—“

“No!” Steve cringes at his quick reaction, but he refuses to allow the idea of Frankie having to straddle him just to treat the scrapes to become real. Just the mere thought of her on top of him in any circumstance makes him dizzy with a desire he refuses to feed into. He can’t ruin this friendship, it’s essential to him at this point. “No, I- I can do this instead. But, uh, Frankie?”

“Yeah?”

“Just don’t— please don’t look, okay? If you see anything else on my back, it’s fine, but the front is a wreck still—“

Frankie’s hands are back on his hips, chilled touch soothing his hot skin, and shutting him up.

“Promise, I won’t.”

A pause hangs over them, then Steve mutters, “fuck it,” pulling the sweatshirt over his head. Leaving the sleeves on his arms, he covers his torso with the rest of the fabric. “Does that work?”

“Yeah, just stay still for me,” Her murmur releases the faintest breath, hitting Steve’s lower back; he shivers. “Sorry, I know my hands are cold.”

“N- no, you’re okay.” He’s relieved she doesn’t catch on, and plays off her assumption, softly admitting, “I don’t mind. Feels kinda nice.”

“Kiss-ass,” She lightly teases, holding a cotton ball soaked with disinfectant. “Might sting, you ready?”

Despite Steve admitting he used to do his own stitches, he appreciates that Frankie doesn’t assume this would be easy for him. It is, but warmth still blooms in his chest over her consideration.

So he nods, and the medicated disinfectant stings on contact, but it’s a walk in the park compared to stabbing through his skin, dragging a needle and thread through over, and over, and over again. She takes her time, not to drag the process out, but to be certain the scrapes won’t get infected.

“One of these is a little deeper than I realized,” Her gingerly touch ghosts parallel to the cut. “Still not stitch-worthy, though.”

“Damn, was kinda hoping for that,” He quips, glancing back over his shoulder. Frankie rolls her eyes at him, but with a smile. It doesn’t last very long, though. “‘Key, you okay?”

There’s a certain somber regard reflecting in her eyes. “Will you tell me?”

Steve turns back a little more, and Frankie’s hold on his hip loosens, while the other with the cotton falls away. “About what?” 

“About what happened to Hawkins.” She’s so quiet, he almost misses it. “I- it doesn’t have to be today, just… will you tell me what really happened someday?”

Unintentionally, his answer comes off terse, expression instantly turning stoic. “It’s gone, Frankie. There’s not much more to it.” He faces forward again, eyes scrunching shut as he inwardly curses himself for the attitude.

“Right. Okay, yeah.” She takes the hint as she swipes a thin layer of topical antibiotic over the scrapes, touch still gentle, but distant emotionally now. She bandages the wounds, leaving a rectangle of gauze and tape along the scrapes on his back. “You should be good. It’s more of a brush burn than anything, except for that one cut. But you know what you’re doing, so I’ll save you the medical advice.”

Steve throws his sweatshirt back on as Frankie places the makeshift kit on the sink’s counter. She stands to shuffle past Steve, but he steps back to block the doorway.

“Wh— Frankie, wait—“

“I should head home, s’kinda late anyway,” Her voice wavers, but she shrugs it off. She won’t look at him. “I’m sorry for crossing a line, Steve.”

“No— no, wait, don’t leave. I can tell you,” He shakes his head frantically, eyes scrunching shut again. “I- I’ll tell you everything.”

Frankie finally glances at him with softened features. “Steve, I don’t want you to feel like you have to tell me anything. Because you don’t. You owe me nothing. You don’t owe anyone anything, especially when it comes to your trauma.”

“Then why are you leaving?” An ache of regret floods through him. I shouldn’t have been rude, I should just tell her everything, I need to be honest and—

“Look, this is clearly something you’re not ready to open up about. I should’ve waited for you to tell me on your own, when you’re ready. I’m not upset with you, Steve. If anything, you should be upset with me.”

“I’m not upset with you, ‘Key, it’s just… really, really difficult to talk about.”

“And that’s okay. Please don’t tell me until you’re ready, okay? I shouldn’t have asked. I’m only leaving because I figured maybe you need some space from me right now—“

Steve scoffs, “Well, I don’t—“

“Then what do you need?” Her eyes flick up to his, locking their gazes together. 

You. I need you.

“I- I—“ He’s still stuck in the fog left over from dissociating earlier; no words come to mind to properly convey his feelings without sounding desperate and pathetic. He considers settling for those three words, but the apartment door opens, throwing him off; all he can come up with is, “Stay… Please?”

“Hi! We’re back!” Robin’s voice floats down the hall as she softly calls out.

“Okay!” Steve tilts his head back while he shouts in response, eyes still glued on Frankie.

The tiniest glimmer of hope graces her features, “You sure?”

“Not to put pressure on you, ‘Key, but,” Inhale. Exhale. Admit it. “You’re the only thing keeping me sane right now.”

Frankie smiles, just as warmly as the day they met, and it puts Steve at ease.

“I hear I’m good at that,” The warm smile melts into a smirk, giggling as Steve rolls his eyes playfully. It breaks through any leftover tension completely, putting the two of them in a better headspace.

“Well, no one said you were good at it,” He teases back. Frankie’s jaw drops, though she can’t quit giggling. The sound of her laugh relaxes him further, hand reaching for hers, “C’mere, Amato.”

Frankie buries her face into his chest, cheek squished against the plush fabric of his sweatshirt. She faces away from the mirror while Steve happens to glance into it, admiring the way their bodies mesh together as they hold one another. Her arms are wound around his torso as he pulls her close, with his arms around her shoulders, and one hand on the back of her head, gently holding her steady against him.

He can’t look away. Can’t stop himself from imagining holding her like this all the time. Can’t believe how quickly the tension leaves his body in her grasp. It always does, he’s always relaxed in her arms in the few times it’s happened.

Except each time Frankie wrapped her arms around Steve, he finds the longing of his feelings only grow more, and more, and more. Steve knows he’s done for, knows he’s a goner, a sucker for Frankie only a little more than a month into knowing one another. 

“I can tell you later, if you’re up for it.” Steve murmurs, resting his chin on her head. “After everyone goes to bed, though, ‘cause god knows I can’t focus with those three around.”

Frankie snorts, shaking as she laughs; another small quirk of hers that continues pulling him in. Steve does not need another reason to fall for her even more. 

“Okay, but I gotta run home to grab some clothes,” The end of her sentence falls into a groan at the thought of walking home, just to walk right back.

“I got stuff you can wear,” His lips twitch as he holds back an over-explanation; Don’t start the “or if you want, but it’s cool if you don’t,” shit. She knows. Stop second guessing yourself.

The constant balance struggle between “You’re just a burden to her” and “Just tell her how you really feel” is starting to make Steve dizzy.

“I mean… if it fits, sure.”

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Eventually, the night rolls on, with everyone in better spirits than earlier. Dustin and Eddie invite themselves to stay over, naturally, so they’re thrilled when they discover Frankie’s staying the night, too.

Once Steve gives Frankie something to wear, she heads off to the bathroom to change; Dustin immediately hurls invasive questions Steve’s way.

“When are you gonna ask her out?”

Choking on the water he’s sipping from, he glares at Dustin. “What are you talking about?”

Murmuring an “unbelievable”, he sits up from the armchair, giving Steve an incredulous stare with his arms thrown out, “Frankie, when are you asking her—“

“Shhh! Shut up, dude.” Robin hisses at Dustin, only to turn to Steve and ask, “Yeah, so when’s that happening?”

Steve shrugs as he makes a scoffing, “pfffttt” kind of noise, “Guys, c’mon… it’s not like that.”

Eddie barks out a laugh over his obvious lie, so Steve takes the high road— throwing a pillow at him like an eighth grader. He shrieks, a little too high for sudden movements like a pillow being launched at his face.

“Steven!”

“Jesus, shut up, you sound like my mom,” Steve grumbles, flipping Eddie off. He snickers, laying back on the floor, waggling his brows at Steve. “Don’t— why are you making that face?”

“You liiiiiike her, don’t you?” Eddie’s blazed out of his mind at this point, and if he’ll end up getting Steve in trouble if he doesn’t shut his mouth. Dustin just giggles along with him; he’s not high, but he has no problem being a little shit while sober.

“Steve, she’s too cool for you, anyway,” Dustin offers his unwarranted opinion with a shrug.

“Nobody asked you, Henderson.” Steve glares at both him and Eddie, “You two are the fucking worst.” Robin bursts into giggles, so he points to her too, “And you, Buckley, are on thin fucking ice.”

“What’d y’all do now?”

Everyone looks up to find Frankie with a sweet smile, tugging at the messy bun her wild hair’s thrown into, trying to secure it in place. She’s in a pair of old sweats and a worn Hawkins High t-shirt; she loosely tied the shirt’s front into a knot, causing the fabric to show off the way the sweatpants sit snug on her hips, hugging spots Steve tries his hardest not to focus on.

Steve’s breath hitches in his throat, fixated on how cute Frankie looks in his clothes.

“We were just— ow!” Robin lunges across the floor to slap her palm against Eddie’s big blabber mouth. 

“They’re just being annoying boys, you know,” Robin laughs it off nervously while Dustin gasps, offended.

“Hey, you were just laughing with us—“ She takes the pillow Steve threw at Eddie and chucks it at Dustin. “—Quit it!” Steve has his face buried in his hands, sighing at all three of them.

“How’d you get your hair to stay like that?” Eddie asks Frankie, eyes bloodshot to hell and in awe of her messy bun. He scrambles off the floor and towards her to inspect her handiwork. “That’s insane.”

“Eddie, buddy, it’s just hair in a messy bun.” She claps his shoulder with her palm, stifling a snort. “Here,” she unwinds a hair tie from her wrist, handing it over to him. He stares at it, absolutely lost. 

Frankie lets her hair down, and Steve’s unable to snap out of the daze she unknowingly has him in.“S’easy, you just,” She pulls her hair up above her head, twisting it around in a messy knot, then stretches the elastic around one, two, three times, holding it in place. “And that’s it!”

Eddie scoffs with a silly expression, “I know what m’doin’.” He tries imitating Frankie, but half of the hair in his grasp tumbles away from his fingers. Everyone watches him confidently create the closest thing he can to a bun, winding the elastic around his curls twice before letting go.

“There’s so much air back here now,” He mutters, rubbing the back of his neck in awe. 

“It’d feel better if you actually did it right,” Dustin snarks, cackling. Eddie frowns.

“I did, Frankie showed me!”

Steve wants to change for the night, but he refuses to believe Eddie won’t run his mouth to Frankie while he’s gone. Eddie and Dustin continue bickering. He panics, getting up and nodding towards the hall, leaning in to her ear. 

“Can we— is it cool if we talk now?”

She sticks her tongue out, curling it over her top lip like she usually does while focused, or thinking, “Hmm…”

Steve’s eyes go wide at a faint, metallic glimmer on her tongue. “When’d you get your tongue pierced?” He’s already blushing, unable to tear his eyes away from her mouth while growing weak at the knees; new desires threaten to form in his mind, ones that he’s never even dreamed of before.

“Huh?” She sticks her tongue out wide, making a ‘blehhhh’ noise as her face scrunches up. “I’ve always had it done.”

Don’t think about it, don’t think about it, do not think about it—

Laughing nervously, he tries shrugging his reaction off, “Just n- never noticed, I guess. S’cool, though.”

“Gonna charge you a quarter every time you say something about me is cool,” She teases, giving him a once over before sticking her tongue out, intentionally pushing her piercing out for him to see. His face burns up, forcing himself to look away. 

“Okay, y- yeah, sure, can we talk now?”

Her features soften, catching on, “Yeah, f’course, Stevie.”

Steve goes from trying to suppress his lustful thoughts to his heart melting; Frankie doesn’t call him that often, but when she does, it brings a smile to his face.

They walk out of the room, when Robin yells, “Where are you going?”

Steve grabs her hand, pulls her faster, trying to come up with an excuse, “Uh…”

“Sick bitch meeting,” Frankie calls out, hoping the humor drops suspicions. “Healthy folks can’t participate, sorry!”

Stumbling into his room in a fit of giggles, Frankie leans back onto the door as Steve closes it. His hands are pressed against the door, unintentionally caging her in as the two catch their breath. Eyes locking together, their smiles begin to settle into lips parted in anticipation for something more. Her hand reaches out to adjust his glasses as they slide down his nose; her fingertips linger on his cheek like earlier. Steve fights the urge to lean into her touch, but his gaze continues to flit between her eyes and her lips, close enough to lean in and kiss her.

What are you waiting for? Just kiss her already!

A startling bang! comes from the other side of the door, causing Frankie to jump forward into Steve. Out of instinct, he wraps his arms around her, holding her protectively. 

“Hurry up, we wanna start the movie!” Dustin’s muffled voice comes through the door. Steve’s head falls forward onto the top of hers while he sighs, annoyed. Frankie laughs it off, despite her heart beating wildly.

I’m gonna kill that little shit.

“You okay?”

“Yeah, just scared ten years off my life, though,” Frankie quips.

“You and me both, ‘Key.” Steve laughs, catching his breath all over again. He tightens the hug for a moment before murmuring into the top of her head, “Give me one minute, okay?”

Steve marches back out to the living room, glaring at all three of them; his hands rest on his hips, naturally, before scolding them like children.

“Start the movie, just give us 30 minutes, okay? An hour, tops.”

“Why, you trying to get lucky?” Robin snorts, but her face falls quickly as she notices Steve’s serious.

“I want to tell her what happened before we left home,” He exhales roughly, shaking off his nerves. “So just… let me do this, please?”

Robin immediately picks up on his anxious demeanor. “Steve, you know it’s safe to tell her everything now, right? No one’s watching us anymore. She’ll be safe if you tell her the truth.”

Again, Steve exhales, relief filling him as he takes his next breath. She’s right. There aren’t any threats to keep them quiet anymore. There’s no shady paperwork to sign, no NDAs to follow, no one tracking their every waking moments.

“Yeah, you’re right.”

“Take your time, man, we’ll be here.” Eddie drawls out, sinking into the couch. Dustin shoots Steve an apologetic glance.

“Sorry for scaring you guys,” He winces. “Tell Frankie m’sorry, too.”

Steve leaves them all with a slight smile, one that’s ridden more with grief than positivity.

ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ

Steve returns to find Frankie admiring the photos tacked onto a corkboard above his dresser, arms crossed and leaning onto the surface while she takes a closer look.

“Your hair used to be so… big.”

“What, are you saying you didn’t have big hair in the 80s?”

She snorts, still fixated on the photos, “The way you say that makes it seem like the 80s were decades ago. It’s 1991, Steve, slow your horses.” She smiles at a photo of him and Robin in their Scoops Ahoy uniforms; Steve looks pissed with the sailor hat snug on his head. “Oh, so this is the infamous sailor outfit, huh?”

“God, don’t—“ He grabs her shoulders gently, trying to turn her away, but she refuses to budge. “Don’t look at that. Dustin was a pain in the ass about taking that picture.”

“Aw, c’mon, you still looked good in that uniform,” She murmurs, eyes glittering at the glimpse of Steve’s past. “If I worked at that mall, I’d get ice cream every day just to see you in that.”

“Wh— you would’ve?”

She throws a glance over her shoulder, smirking, “Just to poke fun at you.”

His head falls back with an annoyed, yet playful groan. “Would’ve charged you double for ice cream then.” 

“Worth it.” Frankie turns back to the photos, with one in particular catching her attention.

Frozen in time is a memory of all the kids standing near Eddie’s van, all in swimsuits, with Eddie laughing from the driver’s seat, Robin hanging out in the open sliding door with a cheesy grin, and Steve sitting next to her, smiling, genuinely happy. All of the kids are chattering away, or arguing, or laughing.

“When was this?”

Steve moves in closer, plucking the photo off the wall to study it. A smile instantly graces his face.

“Uh, a few months after the… the earthquake that wasn’t really an earthquake.” He snorts dryly. “This was right  after Eddie and Max were both released from the hospital, a day apart from each other.” She looks down at the photograph, noticing the bandaging around the majority of Eddie’s upper body, and the neck brace around Max, along with a cast on one arm, wrapped in plastic. “Poor kid still left with one cast left, but it was better than four total. 

“We took them up to Lake Michigan to camp, once the lockdown was finally lifted. We all needed to get away and just pretend things were… normal.” His tone is so soft, scared to speak too loudly, like someone was still listening.

Robin’s words echo in his head: “She’ll be safe if you tell her the truth.”

“They wouldn’t let anyone in or out after week or so after it started. The Upside Down and our world kinda… bled together. Surprised they didn’t do it sooner, but a lot of people left town. More than half, I’d say.” He gives the photo back to Frankie, opening some of the dresser’s drawers. Maybe this will be easier to talk about if I keep busy. While pulling out clothes to sleep in, he continues, “My parents left not even 24 hours after it happened. Didn’t tell me ‘til they were halfway across the country, didn’t come home for any of their stuff. Just… called me and said they weren’t coming home.”

Frankie’s expression contorts into bewilderment with a hint of anger. “They what?”

“Yeah… kind of the norm for them,” Steve is nearly numb to the way his parents neglected him at this point. He grabs an old shirt and sleep shorts before turning back to Frankie. “Didn’t ask me to come with them. Didn’t ask if I was okay. Just told me to stay home until they found a way to list it for sale… but it’s not like anyone would’ve wanted to move to Hawkins, even if it wasn’t—“ He stops, staring down at the floor, losing himself in the memory.

“Steve, if it’s easier to talk about it in smaller parts, we can do that. Or you don’t even have to tell me at all. I meant it when I said you didn’t owe me anything.” For the third time tonight, she holds the side of his face, but immediately pulls back. “Sorry, I shouldn’t be so touchy—“

“There’s nothing to be sorry for, ‘Key. It’s okay.” He reaches for the hand that departed, giving a reassuring, gentle squeeze. “I don’t mind.” He wants to say so much more than just that.

I like it.

I like you.

I like you, and I’m fucking terrified to let someone in again.

Steve exhales shakily, staring at their hands in one another’s. “Do you remember the first day we spent together? When we went to the diner?” She nods. “You opened up to me, and I- I can’t remember exactly what I said, but—“

“You told me “I don’t think you want to know my story”,” Steve’s eyes widen as she recalls with ease. “Sorry, probably weird I remember that.”

“Not weird. Trust me, it doesn’t even come close to what I find weird.” He huffs, looking away. “If I tell you the rest, there’s no going back.”

“What, like… something bad could happen if you tell me?” Her voice is small, nervous to even ask. Steve’s silence speaks volumes to Frankie. “Jesus christ….”

“Other than just knowing the weight of the truth, no.” He pauses, considering skimming over this part, but he wants to be honest. “There was a point where we were under watch. Constantly. They listened to our phone calls, watched our every moves, who we talked to, what we talked about— if any of us said anything to the wrong people, we— our lives were at risk. Shit, even talking about it with the others was a risk. They expected us to just forget and move on from what happened in ‘83.

“When we were all talking about this shit earlier, I had to remind myself it was safe to tell you everything. That nothing would happen to any of us, especially you.” When he turns back to Frankie, his stare is glassy.  “Hawkins is a total wasteland now, so really, there’s nothing to worry about. But dealing with that shit for several years has it burned into my mind to keep my mouth shut, and never tell a soul the truth.”

He slips away from Frankie, clothes in hand, crossing the room to stand behind the closet door. 

“Wait, what are you doing?”

Popping his head back out, he furrows his brows, “Changing? Look away, creep.”

“I’m not—“ She spins around, hands covering her eyes as they close. “I just thought it was weird timing!”

Steve snorts, “Just figured I should be comfy if I’m gonna tell ya’ the rest of this fucked up nightmare, Francesca.”

“I could just leave, y’know. You’re the one who made it weird,” She teases. 

“Uh… yeah, don’t— o- only ‘cause the second you leave the room, Eddie’s gonna run his mouth with some nonsense you do not need to hear right now.”

“What, like he’ll tell me your secrets, or something?” She giggles into her palms, fingers still shielding her closed eyes. 

“… Something like that.” Steve throws his old clothes into the basket, walking up behind Frankie. He carefully spins her back around, and a chuckle slips, “You were covering your eyes while they were closed… facing the wall?”

She moves her hands away and opens her eyes, “I was trying to be polite!”

“After I called you out for being a creep?”

She scoffs, then it melts into a smirk, pushing past Steve. “If we’re playing that game, I could go ask Eddie what secrets of yours he wants to tell me—“

Steve twists around to grab her hand, tugging her back, “Don’t you dare—“ He tugs a little too hard, sending Frankie stumbling directly into him. “Shit, sorry—“

She bursts into giggles, face buried in his chest, arms wrapping around him. “Steve, that was not smooth whatsoever.” 

“I wasn’t trying to be— smooth about what?!” He quickly descends into his own fit of laughter; Frankie’s smile, her laugh, they’re always contagious. 

He nearly forgets that minutes ago he was beginning to open up about the end of his old life and hometown.

“You know what, Harrington.” She wriggles out of his grasp, flopping back onto his bed. She adjusts herself to lay back against the pillows, arms opening lazily. “If you wanted to cuddle, you could’ve asked.”

Steve’s face burns up, and it certainly doesn’t help that Frankie looks so cute, so sweet, in his clothes and in his bed. Traces of eyeliner are smudged around her eyes, and her hair’s falling out of the already disheveled bun.

“You’re sassy when you’re tired.”

“M’not tired,” She flips him off while he rolls into bed next to her.

“You’re also the world’s worst liar, Amato.” 

“You can cuddle yourself, jerk— hey!”

Steve brings her into his embrace, snuggling into the pillows while she ducks her head into his chest. He hums, content, as she tangles herself around him. His eyes flutter shut, breaths falling into a steady rhythm; he could easily fall asleep like this.

“So…” Frankie breaks the silence, “We still shit talkin’ your parents?”

Face still half buried in the pillows, his exposed eye pops open to glare at her lightheartedly, “You just had to go ruin the moment, huh?” 

She shrugs, “Well, I’m not gonna be a dick and shit talk them without your permission.”

“Oh, yeah, you’re so polite,” Steve rolls his eyes with a half smile. “Thought you wanted to know what happened to Hawkins?”

“What’re you more comfortable with talking about right now?”

He rolls onto his back, taking off his glasses to set them on the nightstand. “Honestly? Anything but my parents and their bullshit.” That word used to sting terribly, left a rotten taste in his mouth for years. Now, it rolls off his tongue so easily, he wonders if something as trivial as that in the grand scheme of things could count as growth.

It’s the little things too, right?

Sighing, Steve turns back to her, keeping a bit of space between them this time, but his hand lays in hers loosely. Frankie gives her undivided attention as he continues.

“Y’know, watching the town rot into an extension of the Upside Down was fucked. Really, really fucked. But I think it was more fucked up watching everyone try to go on with their lives. It was surreal to see people go back to work, or go to school, like nothing went wrong.

“I think we all tried to pretend nothing was wrong. I know I did at one point. The cracks and splits in the ground got bigger, and the fires inside them just continued burning. Worse than Centralia.”

“I get that now,” She cringes at herself. “M’sorry.”

“You didn’t know. S’okay.” Reassuringly, Steve squeezes her hand. “It just became unsafe everywhere. Sinkholes were appearing all over, swallowing houses completely. People were disappearing all the fucking time. If they weren’t disappearing, or turning up dead, they were fleeing town. The government tried covering it up at first, but over time, I think they realized there was no point. Either people were terrified to talk about what they knew, or they kept themselves in the dark, afraid to learn the truth. The few of us that did try talking about it were seen as crazy.

“There was even a rumor going around that the fumes from the fires were poisoning whoever was left, causing them to go insane and make up stories.” Steve’s jaw clenches as he retells the past; Frankie holds his hand tighter.

“Didn’t anyone have photos? Or any sort of proof on film?”

“Oh, yeah, but film rolls began disappearing without a trace. Polaroid film came out blank all the time. If someone was able to get their film to a lab, they never developed right. Nancy and Jonathan took a ton of rolls with them when they moved to New York, and Jonathan’s been a photographer for years. The shots still came out blank. There’s no reason for that to have happened, unless someone sabotaged the film.

“It got to the point where the only media outlets that’d take the proof, if any survived, were those hokey tabloids. No one believes a word or photograph printed in those. It was useless. Reporters were banned from the town as shit got worse. Whatever you might’ve seen in the news doesn’t even come close to what Hawkins turned out to be in the end.”

Frankie’s almost afraid to ask, anticipating the worst. “So… what was the end?”

Steve’s gaze grows distant. “I think it was, like, three… maybe four months after everything happened that they decided to give up on Hawkins. It was already a wreck, mostly a ghost town— Robin, Eddie and I only stayed ‘til the end to make sure all the kids had somewhere safe to go.”

“Where’s everyone else now?”

“Joyce and Hopper moved to California, most of the kids went with them. I’ve got no idea where Mike and Nancy’s parents ended up, but from what I’ve heard, they’re still in touch, at least. Max went no contact with her mom, and Lucas still visits his family, they moved to Minneapolis. Erica plans on going to college in California to live with her brother and Max.”

“Why didn’t Dustin move out there, too?”

“He, uh… he didn’t want to leave Eddie or me behind. They moved to Indianapolis, far enough from Hawkins, close enough to keep in touch with and visit. Eddie’s uncle moved with them, and Dustin’s mom moved to Florida.” He chuckles, adding, “She has like, five cats now at least.”

Silence begins to follow, but right now, Frankie can’t handle that, can’t give her thoughts a chance to run wild.

“So… everyone’s safe, at least, right?”

“Out of our party, yeah, thankfully. During the last evacuation, some people refused to leave Hawkins. Refused to leave their houses and old lives behind. They stayed behind knowing what was going to happen.” His eyes screw shut, remembering one of his neighbors was adamant about dying in the comfort of his home, rather than starting over elsewhere. Somewhere safe, somewhere the Upside Down hadn’t ruined everything it had touched.

 “I took everything I could that mattered— wasn’t much, and Robin and I packed the car and moved out here days before Hawkins was…” Steve pauses with a shudder, “Jesus, there’s no way to say it without being blunt, they just… bombed the shit out of the town.“

Frankie’s face drops with horror. “Y- you weren’t kidding when you said it was wiped off the map then… ”

“Wish I was,” Steve rolls onto his back, staring up at the ceiling. “I don’t know how they did it, but it was controlled enough that it barely left the town’s edge. All of us,” He nods towards the door, meaning the three out in the living room, “We went back to Weathertop the day it happened… figured some of us should see first hand to tell the others.

“There’s nothing left of Hawkins. No houses, no families, no roads, all of the woods are gone— it’s just some kind of fucked up, barren wasteland you’d see in the movies. No one’s allowed to pass through, either. Still fucking guarded. As far as the rest of the world’s concerned, Hawkins doesn’t exist.”

Steve doesn’t realize he’s started crying until Frankie reaches out to gingerly wipe away a few stray tears. He’s so lost in thought, her touch startles him.

“Shit, I’m sorry,” She reels back, but he grabs her hand, lacing his fingers between hers; a rosy tint washes across her features.

“N- no, don’t— what did you say to me last night? “When you’re close with someone, assumptions are kind of a given. When someone gets you, it’s not offensive.” Right?” Frankie’s shocked he remembers, and Steve surprises even himself by recalling her words perfectly. “I just get startled easily after everything, but it wasn’t you.”

Frankie searches for the right words to give Steve, the perfect combination of comfort and understanding, but she comes up short. Steve can tell she’s struggling to figure out what to respond to all of this with, so he squeezes her hand again.

“Hey, s’okay—“

“Thank you,” She rushes out. “Thank you for telling me, Steve. I’m so sorry you had to live through any of this.”

With a soft tug, Steve brings Frankie closer; she rests her head on his chest while he plays with her hair, spilling out of her bun. Her eyes grow heavy, relaxed enough in this moment where she could fall asleep in his arms. 

“I should be thanking you for listening,” He murmurs, finally at ease now that the truth is out. She lazily winds herself around him again, limbs entangling with one another. “Still wanna be friends with a mess like me?”

“No, I don’t,” Flat toned, Frankie teases, “That’s why I’m still cuddling with you.”

“Gonna start a jar for you,” He quips, voice rasping from so much talking in one night; one of his hands caress along her back, fingertips ghosting her spine. She sighs, content; a smile curls on Steve’s face at the sound. “A quarter for every time you’re a smart-ass.”

“M’kay, you can just have my next paycheck then.”

“‘Key, if you give me your paycheck I’ll just take you out for milkshakes all the time.” His chuckle is gravelly, laced with sleep. “It’ll be bad for the both of us.”

“That’s not how dates work, Steve—“

“D- dates?” So much for being tired. “You think that’s what— wait— hold on—“

She yawns loudly, but with a knowing smirk, “Huh? I’m tired. What’d I say?”

“‘Key, c’mon, don’t— this isn’t funny—“

“Shhh, Steve, I’m sleeping.” She can’t stop giggling, and oh, no— Steve discovers another trait that pulls him deeper into this crush. Frankie’s one of those people who grow sillier the longer they fight sleep, something the former king of Hawkins High would act too cool for, but that version of himself is long gone. Steve, in this moment, finds it to be one of those quirks where he’s left asking himself: How the hell can she get any cuter?

“Oh, you sleep talk, now? Is that why you told me one of your biggest secrets in your sleep last night?”

Her head pops up, staring at him, horrified. “I what now?” Steve tries holding a straight face, but it barely lasts a second before he bursts into giggles. “Oh, you dick.”

“Payback for the gown joke last night.”

Wiggling her brows, she mutters, “Wish it wasn’t a joke.”

“Frankie!”

“S’what they call me,” She snorts while resting her head back on his chest, shooting finger guns lazily. 

“Are you even going to explain the date comment?” Steve laughs, but he feels so dizzy trying to figure this all out; the lingering touches, the flirting, holding one another in hugs and cuddling, and now this.

This has to be something more than just friends… right? 

“Yeah, jus’ not now,” She’s quick to settle right on the edge of sleep again. “Got a plan.”

Steve’s heart is racing as he fights sleep, hoping for an answer. “A plan?”

Is she serious? She can’t be serious. No way in hell she feels the same.

There’s silence, then soft, steady breaths, with some hums of comfort as she melts into him. He can’t even be mad, not with how sweet it is to see her fall asleep on him. He waits for a few minutes, until he’s sure she’s asleep.

Steve whispers with a half-smile, “You’re gonna be the death of me, Amato,” not thinking twice before kissing the top of her head. He’s fast asleep before he can overthink it.

ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ

Steve’s dissociating again. He has to be.

It’s 1983, and he’s watching himself steal Nancy’s attention away from her best friend, Barb. He’s watching as the two become lost in one another, but in his peripheral vision, out the window, he watches as Barb perches on the edge of the diving board, kicking her feet along the water. In the blink of an eye, she’s gone. She’s dragged off and gone from his sight.

Steve can hear Barb’s screams, but he watches himself and Nancy entangle themselves in one another, completely oblivious to the violence outside as it unfolds in the Upside Down, not here. Not right outside his house.

It’s 1983, and Steve’s wishing he could’ve done something more.

So, maybe he’s not dissociating. Not really. 

Steve’s reliving the past from the outside, but he’s aware. He’s aware how fucked this is. He finds himself outside the Byers’ home, begging Nancy to let him in. He blinks, and time skips ahead to him swinging the nail bat at the demogorgon. 

The bat is swung again, and he’s back at the junkyard with the kids in 1984, fighting off the demodogs. He watches himself fend some off, watches as Dustin calls him back to the bus, screaming “Abort! Abort!”

Then, it’s 1985 in a flash, and memories roll through like a flip book; the elevator, the bunker under the mall, the punches thrown at him, getting drugged with Robin. It goes too fast after that, but each blip of a memory from that dreadful Fourth of July is burned into his brain enough to recognize them all. He watches Billy die. Wonders from the outside why he keeps watching everyone die, and why he feels so much guilt for making it out alive all over again.

The Mind Flayer’s gone, but so is Hopper. He watches everyone reunite outside in slow motion. Witnesses himself wander around from each kid, each friend, making sure they’re all being properly treated despite being in the care of emergency officials. He sees the moment El locks eyes with Joyce as she hugs Will tight, notices the silent, heartbreaking exchange that says it all: Hopper didn’t make it.

1986 is just one giant blur of disasters; the murders, Eddie on the run after being falsely accused, Max barely escaping Vecna’s grasp at the gravesite, finding the water gate—

Steve can hear his own thoughts as he watches the bats attack him in the Upside Down. He fights. He fights hard. He gives it his all, but his thoughts grow louder, trying to coax him into giving up. Trying to convince him it’s not worth surviving anymore. That he didn’t deserve to survive any of this to begin with.

No more, please, no more—

The memories overlap, playing over one another in a shrill symphony of chaotic noises and visions; it’s like being stuck in a room with multiple TVs on different channels, volume cranked to an unbearable level. They blur together, the sounds are fighting one another for his attention. 

It all skips to him driving away from Hawkins, for good. He left mere days before it was destroyed, blown to smithereens, though he did return to witness the carnage from a safe distance. Yet in this moment, he watches from the rear view mirror the explosions set off. One by one, somehow controlled enough to keep the intended damages within city limits, he’s still able to feel the rush of wind, pushing through the open windows of his car. Then, the heat, and it doesn’t take long for it to grow unbearable. His eyes grow dry, his throat aches, his lungs burn, and his skin feels like it’s disintegrating from his body.

“Stop!”

Steve shakes as something winds around him, holding him in place. He thrashes, feeling his limbs lock up as his breaths fall shallow, panicked. 

“Let go!”

“Steve, hey, hold on—“

“I said let me—“ Steve gasps as he blindly shoves someone away, “Let me fucking go!”

“It’s me, it’s Frankie!” She grabs his face, cupping his jaw in her fingers. “You’re okay. You’re safe, Steve.” He opens his eyes, hands sliding over her own as they rest on his face. His eyes dart rapidly between each of hers, almost searching for a sign of reality as he fully wakes. 

“Shit…” Heart racing, he can feel the violent thumping in his throat. Patting the backs of her hands a few times, he reaches out for her face next. “… ‘Key?”

With a wavering voice, she replies, “S’me, you’re safe, I promise.” He tries to choke back a sob, but it breaks despite his efforts. Frankie softly pushes his hair from his eyes, matted with sweat. “Not gonna let anything bad happen to you, Stevie.”

Cautiously moving her hands, she brings one to the back of his head, gently guiding him into her embrace. Now that he’s awake, he begins to relax into her grasp, desperate for comfort.

“I’m- I— ‘Key, m’so sorry. I’m so, so, sorry.” He’s far too shaken up to be worried about his composure right now. There’s no playing this off or acting cool, but he doesn’t care about that. He’s on edge, and even more upset he might’ve hurt Frankie. “What did I— are you okay? I- I’m so sorry—“

Frankie’s fingers tangle through his hair, shuddering a breath while her other arm winds around his shoulders, settling back onto the pillows to let him relax and lean on her. She shushes him, and it’s soft, caring, not trying to suppress his cries for her benefit, but trying to comfort him as he comes down from the nightmare.

Steve’s arms snake around her waist, fingers digging into the fabric of her shirt— his shirt— terrified to loosen his grip and lose her. 

“S’just a nightmare, not real,” She’s unsure of what to say, wary of what might trigger him into further panic or help ease his PTSD. “You’re s- safe. I’ll never, ever let anything bad happen to you. Ever.”

“Did I hurt you? God, please tell me I didn’t—“

“Babe, you’re okay.” Steve misses the pet name; it’d make his stomach flip, make him blush wildly any other time. Right now, he’s too deep in his memories, rolling back from his dream, to care about any feelings. “You did nothing wrong. I’m okay, I promise. Are you okay?”

Steve’s silent for a moment, only his shudders and whimpers fill the space around them. Then, he shakes his head. It’s brief, light, but he does, and Frankie catches it immediately. 

“What can I do to help? Would space work?”

“No— no, no, don’t leave,” He’s frantic, grabbing onto the fabric she wears tighter. “Please don’t go.”

“I’m right here, I’ll stay,” She promises as he ducks her head into the crook of her neck. “Do you wanna talk about it?”

“N- no, just, I- I— I’m so sorry.”

“Steve, you need to tell me who made you feel like you constantly need to apologize for your trauma, ‘cause I got some words for ‘em.” A brief laugh woven in between hiccups and sniffling escapes him. Her voice, despite the weak threat, is soothing. “The last thing I want you to do is feel sorry for what you survived.”

That breaks Steve. Really, truly, breaks him. He cries steadily, the cries turn to sobs as he shakes in her hold. 

“I feel so… It feels wrong that I survived. There were others that deserved to survive, not m- me,” The survivor’s guilt drives him to to believe this so often. It’s a reoccurring discussion in therapy, but he can’t seem to shake it all these years later. His therapist has tried reminding and reassuring him time and time again that this won’t get better overnight, but hasn’t five years of suffering been enough?

“I can’t imagine what it’s like to carry the weight of surviving awful, awful tragedies that others did not, but I can say without a doubt you’re supposed to be here, Steve.” If there was a way to take Steve’s pain away, Frankie would act on it in a heartbeat. But she can only offer a safe space for him, with comforting touches and words. “You making it out of Hawkins, making it this far, that’s not wrong. Not one bit.”

Steve knows better than to argue with Frankie, knows she sticks by her beliefs, even if it means putting all her care and loyalty into a man broken by horrors beyond her comprehension. He can’t understand why she’s not sick of him yet, but until that day comes, he won’t turn her comfort away.

“Surprised you’re not tired of me yet,” He’s so quiet between his cries, Frankie almost misses him speak.

“Well, I’m not.”

“You should be—“

“Steve, it’s gonna take way more than all of this to drive me away,” Like Steve earlier, Frankie leaves a faint kiss on the top of his head without much thought. She’s too tired to overthink it, just as he would have. She misses the red tint blooming across his features, even through the tears.

It ends there; he’s unsure if he won’t argue back because he’s accepting her word as honesty, finally, or if its because’s he’s too damn drained to defend his self loathing.

In time, Steve falls back asleep, snoring softly with his face still buried in Frankie’s neck. She can’t fall back asleep as quickly, but until she does, she basks in the comfort of both of them tangled together. She takes the soft, steady breaths he makes as a sign that he’s in a calmer dream. She’d stay up until dawn, watching over him, if it meant ensuring him a good night’s sleep.

“You’re safe with me, Steve.” Frankie leans down to press her lips to his head with a lingering kiss. She pulls back, just enough, murmuring in his hair as she dozes off, “Always.”