crappymixtape

[crappymixtape]

tart like cherries, sweet like pie

you’re in the thick of summer and everything’s hot, sticky, sweet. after a long swim session in steve’s pool with the gang, you go to the diner, but when everyone starts to say their goodbyes, steve can’t stop thinking about you and the way you looked when you ate the cherry on top of your strawberry milkshake | (  1.7k, fluff, kinda smut, friends to lovers, steve x you, steve x reader )

T A R T L I K E C H E R R I E S, S W E E T L I K E P I E 🎵 gap tooth smile, djo

“Touch my fries again, Munson, and you’re gonna owe me more than a dime bag!”

Robin slapped Eddie’s hand away from the red checkered basket sitting between them on the table.

“Aw, c’mon, Robs. Just one more? Promise,” the curly-haired boy smirked, holding out a pinky, only to be greeted with a skeptically flat look.

“Eventually someone needs to give us a ride back,” Mike snarked, mouth twisted around a frown, “Idiots.”

Max, Will, El, and Lucas all grumbled in agreement. You were all crammed into the half-moon bench seat at the back of the diner, tabletop covered in crumpled up burger wrappers and empty soda cups full of melting ice. After spending the too-hot August afternoon floating in the Harrington’s pool, you’d all begrudgingly crawled out, shoulders red and cheeks pink, to wander downtown in search of air conditioning.

“Hm,” Steve mused, “If only we knew someone with a van…” He grinned across from you, nudging your shin under the table with the toe of his shoe.

“Hey, now–” Eddie started, pointing a finger at the other boy.

“No, no. He has a point,” you cut in with a tut and a shrug, struggling to maintain a straight face.

“Not our fault you drive a mommy missile,” Robin snorted.

Eddie glared at all three of you, then added pointedly to Steve, “I thought you were the god dammed babysitter.”

“I was,” Steve replied agreeably, lacing his hands behind his head and giving him a saccharine sweet smile, “Until you so graciously joined this shit show.” Picking a fry from Robin’s basket, Steve held it between his teeth, “Besides, I gave rides back from the arcade last night, s’your turn.”

Roughing his hands over his face, Eddie groaned against his palms and stood from the table. IN classic Munson theatrics, the boy waved an arm in a big circle before shoving at Mike, “Alright douchebags, let’s go.”

“Wait–” Robin snatched another handful of fries and crammed a few in her mouth, “–I’m on the way, take me too.”

“Seriously?” Eddie gave Steve a desperate look.

“I’ve got a load of donation stuff in the backseat, only room for one with me.”

Steve gave you another grin, but this time it was a little softer, a little curious, and it made your stomach flip over, your brain lapsing for a half second before kickstarting again.

“Yeah–yeah, I can’t go yet. I haven’t even touched my shake,” you clumsily added, cheeks flush as you leaned down and took a long sip of blended strawberry ice cream.

“Jesus Christ,” Eddie muttered under his breath, “Fine. Fine. I’ll be the responsible one–and don’t ever say I never did anything for you shitheads!”

“Oh my god–Saint Munson,” Max snarked, mouth tipped up in a half-grin when you and Steve choked on fries and milkshake, “Guardian of children and stupid, nerdy shit.”

Eddie frowned, hands on his hips, “Watch it, Red.”

Then, one by one, the kids all mumbled their goodbyes to you and Steve, giving one-armed hugs as they piled out of the rounded bench seat after Eddie who had already gotten halfway to the door.

“Praised be to Saint Munson!” Steve called after them and Eddie thanked him with an emphatically lifted middle finger without even looking back.

The bell at the front jingled happily as Lucas held the door open for the gang, and then, giving you both a little finger waggle goodbye, the diner fell quiet.

“Saint Munson,” Steve laughed under his breath, “Wish I’d thought of that.”

“You’ll get him next time,” you reassured, kicking at his foot under the table and it pulled his eyes up to meet yours. Warm, brown sugar and honey, framed with thick lashes, crinkled at the edges with a smile.

“Thanks, Bug.”

Your birthday’s in June? Oh, well then I’m gonna call you Bug. Is that okay? You know, like a June bug?

Bug.

Sweet Bug.

His Bug.

Heat crackled in your chest as you returned his smile and leaned down to take another sip of milkshake. Steve’s eyes were still on you, and when you wrapped your lips around your straw, the black of his irises bloomed outward, amber and caramel flashing dark. When he swallowed, Adam’s apple bobbing against the moles dotting down the column of his throat, you paused.

Friends since second grade, scraped knees and broken arms, summer’s spent floating in the pool and jumping into the quarry. Melted popsicles and dirt roads, coconut sunscreen and freckles, citrus and cedar and fresh laundry and

Steve. Steve. Steve.

Dipping your fingers into your glass, you picked up the cherry at the bottom and lifted it to your lips. Hesitating at the idea of what you were about to do, you watched as Steve blinked at you from across the table, lashes sweeping across the tops of his cheeks while his hands pressed heavy into the red, vinyl seat.

Putting the cherry to your glossy lips, you slipped your tongue under it, pulled it between your teeth and held it there for just a second, watching as Steve unraveled before your eyes. He bit down hard, jaw ticking, muscles strained and eyes glued to your mouth and the way your teeth pressed against the soft fruit, a dot of whipped cream clinging to the corner of your lips.

Finally, slowly, you sunk your teeth into it, a tiny trickle of juice dripping down your chin as you sucked the cherry in, and Steve looked like he might pass out. His too-cool demeanor blown out and boiling over, mouth parted in awe as he tracked the movement of your tongue running along your bottom lip, gathering up the juice and whipped cream.

“I gotta get this table bussed, hon,” a voice shattered the tension between you like a glass and both of you locking onto the waitress, caught.

“Oh–oh right. Course. S–sorry. We’re done. Right? We’re all done. Here–uh–lemme just grab–” Words were spilling out of Steve’s mouth like an open tap, clumsy and fumbling as he dug a wad of bills from his pocket, “Can keep the change. Great food! Great food. Thanks a bunch.”

“Mmhm,” she mumbled with an eye roll, as both of you clambered out of the booth.

Steve hit the door first, car keys clanking against his fingers as his feet hit the sidewalk, body like a furnace not from the summer heatwave, not the last rays of sun stretching up the side of the building, but from you.

You and the way that cherry looked between your teeth, the sharp angles of your cheeks when you sucked in and they hollowed out, the glitter in your eyes as you held his gaze and dared him to keep watching.

“Steve! Wait up–”

Reaching out your hand, your fingers brushed against his, straining for purchase until you finally grabbed hold and tugged, stopping him just as he reached the BMW. He turned around, mouth working around a smile when he finally looked down at you, expression unsure, struggling against shame and want and adoration.

“I’m sorry if I–if I made you uncomfortable or–or–” your words wouldn’t come out, caught in your throat, the feeling at the pit of your stomach teetering between embarrassed and wanting more. “Stupid,” you muttered under your breath, gaze dropping to your feet, but then Steve chuckled and you glanced back up.

His eyes crinkled at the corners as he smiled down at you, cheeks flushed and pink, no longer King Steve, but someone softer. Someone who wanted to try and put words to feelings.

“Honestly?” he said, brows quirking up, “So hot. Like…I don’t think you realize what you were doing to me in there, Bug.” Lifting a hand to your cheek, he ghosted his fingers down the line of your jaw, holding your chin between his thumb and pointer. “Wrecked me,” he admitted, voice lower, warmer, “Is that what you wanted?”

Heat pooled between your legs at his words, his touch, the way he held you in his hand, firm, but careful. Swallowing your nerves, you took a step into him and held his gaze, “What if I said yes?”

“Gonna kill me,” he whispered, pressing his other hand to your hip and sliding two fingers into the belt loop on your jeans to tug you into him.

You could feel the sun radiating from him, warm through the thin, white fabric of his shirt, and you wondered for split second what it would feel like to put your hands on him. Bare skin, golden, sun kissed, fingers chasing freckles across his belly, bumping up his ribs and over his chest.

“Can’t,” you whispered back, “Cos I then I wouldn’t be able to do this.”

Taking a deep breath you pushed up onto your toes and wrapped an arm behind his head, pulled him down into you and pressed your lips to his, swallowing the gasp he’d sucked in.

It tasted like strawberry milkshake, tart cherry and whipped cream. Like every June, July, and August you spent together. All the restraint and tension melting away like ice cream in the sun only to be replaced by this heat, making room for something more.

He ran his tongue against the seam of your lips and you opened to him, let him into your mouth and licked at the way he searched you. He loosed a pained sound that you greedily swallowed, sucking his bottom lip as you pulled away and when you finally looked back up at him, he was completely wrecked. Hair sticking out at the nape of his neck where you’d tangled your fingers, running your nails against the skin there, leaving a trail of goosebumps in your wake.

“Take me home?” you asked quietly, a secret code only he could decipher.

Want you. Need you. More. More. More.

And Steve didn’t make you ask twice, stealing one more kiss before driving you back to his where you’d get lost between the sheets. Tracing each other like a pattern, a maze of sleepless bliss, bodies fitted together like two sides of a locket as you moved in the dark and pulled soft sounds from your lips – asking each other again and again for another

and another

and another.

crappymixtape™ • steve harrington masterlist // stranger things masterlist♥️ reblogs and comments keep me going, friends! ily! ♥️

[crappymixtape]

it’s my birthdayyyy and i found an old vintage sweater at this lil shop that has “indiana” across the front — coincidence? i think not.

faaaace under the cut 🙇🏻‍♀️

hawkins baybeeeeee

[crappymixtape]

i just got my SECOND developmental edit letter back on this and omg, I'M IN MY FEELS.

two years ago i wrote this while working a 60/hr a week job and it was the most proud i'd ever been about a piece of my writing.

nine months later i'd get laid off from that 60/hr a week job and panicked about not having steady work after eleven years of corporate bullshit, BUT

i decided fuck a job. in march of last year, i went full send into this story and told myself i was going to turn it into a whole ass novel.

now, over a year later, three drafts and 80K words in, this story is almost complete. just one draft away from querying for an agent and something i am so deeply proud of.

i just can't believe i'm here. i can't believe i really wrote a book and am THIS close to realizing my dream of getting published and sharing these characters and their love with you. what started out as a short story woven from the threads of my own scars has now turned into something so much more and–

i guess what i want to say is don't give up. don't write yourself off. you are absolutely capable of wonderful, incredible, beautiful things and the world needs them. so please...

don't give up.

you're worth it.

you can do it.

i believe in you ♥️

laugh like lovers, kiss like friends

you're getting married – steve’s in town for the ceremony and it dredges up old memories, ones you thought you'd forgotten, but you have to decide, will you say ‘i do’ or will your heart realize what you really want has been there all along?  | (  9.1k, angst, fluff, friends to lovers, steve x you, steve x reader )

L A U G H L I K E L O V E R S, K I S S L I K E F R I E N D S 🎶 cold water swimming, quiet houses

“How about these, dear? Eucalyptus pairs lovely with peonies. Besides, wildflowers for a wedding? In all my years as a planner I’ve never seen it. No one does it. It's just tacky, hon.”

Twirling the stem of a daisy between your fingers you bit the inside of your cheek, only half hearing the woman standing next to you among all the buckets and vases of flowers in the greenhouse.

Wildflowers for a wedding? No one does it.

Pulling your eyes off the daisy you forced a smile, “Of course, I’m sorry. Peonies sound great.”

“Wonderful, I’ll add it to the day-of agenda and make sure the florist knows you’ve made up your mind. It’s an excellent choice, one your fiance will be happy with I’m sure.”

Your fiance.

Sam proposed less than a month ago in the kitchen of your little downtown Indianapolis apartment with his grandmother’s ring. A huge, gaudy diamond that made your hands look even smaller than they already were and after you’d called your mom the news had spread like wildfire.

Sam didn’t want to wait, he probably would’ve dragged you down to the courthouse if it hadn’t been for his parents and your mom, but it meant things were moving at the speed of light and you were running to catch up.

When he’d looked up at you, ring box outstretched, you knew what your first thought should’ve been. Tears and overwhelming joy and a resounding Yes! but none of it came. Instead your first thought had been long stalks of grass. The glittering turquoise water of the quarry. Skunky weed and wildflowers and hot, sticky Indiana summers.

Steve.

“Babe, you gotta call the bakery back, the lady doesn’t get it. Idiot,” Sam’s voice cut through into your thoughts and you blinked them away.

“What?”

“The cake? She’s not getting it. I told her we wanted vanilla, like actual vanilla not that imitation shit.”

“Julie’s not an idiot,” your tone grew clipped, short, brow furrowing as you folded your arms across your chest. Julie had lived in Hawkins since before your family moved in across the street from her. The only, and best, bakery in town with the sweetest baker known to man. Julie was a saint.

“Okay, well then you try and explain it to her. I’m done,” Sam huffed, pinching his nose between his fingers and shaking his head. “I’m gonna go get food with my mom. Can’t wait until this is all over,” he grumbled under his breath. “I’ll see you back at the house," and with that he hastily pressed a kiss to your forehead before stalking out of the greenhouse.

“Not really a man’s arena is it,” the planner said giving you an overly sweet smile, “Better to let us take care of it, hm?”

“I guess,” you couldn’t bear to force another smile, “Thanks for your help, but I need to go get ready for tonight. Call me if anything else comes up.”

“On it and don’t you worry, only a few more days. Just think! The happiest day of your life!”

The happiest day of your life.

It sure as hell didn’t didn’t it feel like it.

The high vaulted ceilings in your parents’ living room looked the same as they had when you lived there. Same ugly, bumpy texture and yellowed color, now with a few too-high cobwebs just out of reach hanging in the corners.

The buzz of conversation filling the air around you was incessant, blending and blurring together and making you feel like you were far away. Like you were a spectator and not the bride-to-be and your chest squeezed with nerves. There were so many people packed into the house and as guests hurled their questions at you, your anxiety only grew.

“Oh, sweetie you look amazing! You’ll be a beautiful bride!” “Tell me again, where are you going for your honeymoon?” “Sam is such a catch, does he have any available friends? Just kidding! But seriously?” “Oh my god, look at that ring! He must really love you.”

One of Sam’s cousins had been hammering you with question after question, barely giving you any room to reply and you felt like you were drowning in it. The walls of the living room suddenly felt like they were closing in on you, making you feel claustrophobic and you needed air. Outside. Anything other than this. “Is-is it warm in here?” you stuttered, pulling at the collar of your dress.

“No? What d’you mean–”

“I’m sorry, excuse me,” you didn’t wait for her to finish and instead moved as quickly as you could through the crowd, trying not to project your panic with a fake smile plastered on your lips until you reached the slider door.

“Honey!” your stomach sank. Your mom. “Your aunt and uncle just got here, you need to say hello!”

Looking over your shoulder she was standing with her hands on her hips, brow furrowed in frustration, watching as your fingers gripped the handle of the patio door.

“I know,” your voice was edged with irritation and you bit your tongue. “Please? I just need some air for a minute. I’ll be right back,” and you could tell she didn’t like your answer, but she didn’t fight you on it as you slipped outside, all the noise and voices and music blunted and sliced in half as you shut the door behind you.

Leaning back against the glass, eyes closed, you pulled in a breath of air and let it out slowly. Trying, telling, yourself you had to keep it together. Just a minute out here and you’d feel right as rain. Ready to dive back in.

The happiest day of your life.

“Shouldn’t you be inside?”

Your eyes flew open, an all-too-familiar voice making your heart leap into your throat.

He was sitting on the edge of one of the pool loungers like it was nothing, a few locks of stray hair falling into his eyes, all warm honey and burnt caramel and the boyish grin he was giving you made you feel dizzy. Like it always did.

“I’ve been inside for like two hours,” you shot back, but you couldn’t ever bring yourself to really sound mad at him.

At Steve.

“Well don't sound like you’re having too much fun. Not like you’re getting married in three days or anything,” he teased, scooting over on the lounger, a silent invitation for you to sit next to him and you took it.

“Don’t remind me–” fell out, “–what I mean is–it's just–just planning everything has been...a lot.”

Steve caught your slip up, but didn’t call it out, only humming in reply as he threaded a hand through his hair, watching as you settled down next to him. “I’m about a month late, but congrats,” he offered with a small smile before taking a drink from his beer.

“Oh, yeah. Thanks,” you replied lamely, cheeks flushing when he looked over at you. You were entirely too sober for this. “Here, gimme that,” reaching over you took the beer from his hand, chugging half of it in one go and pulling a laugh out of Steve.

“Jesus,” Steve laughed, amused at you, a sound you’d missed so very much. “Take it easy,” he chided gently, but it was all warm and sticky sweet like popsicles on a hot day and when you gave it back he shook his head.

Silence lingered between you for a moment, the static sound of the pool filter trickling in the background, and your thoughts drifted back to a moment a few years ago. Up in your room while summer spun by outside. The last time he'd been over here. Steve.

Bobbing along to the music coming from your stereo, you crammed the last of your photos into one of the empty supply boxes Steve had brought over from Family Video.

“I wanted to be with you alone and talk about the weather, but traditions I can trace against the child in your face won't escape my attention,” you sang a little off key, giving your shoulders a little shimmy as you turned to grab the pile of books on your bed.

“You keep your distance via the system of touch and gentle persuasion. I'm lost in admiration, could I need you this much?” Steve sang back, browed knitted together in dedication to the bit, hips swaying as he wiped down your dresser. Turning with the roll of paper towels in his hand he held it out to you as the chorus neared, both of you singing horribly.

“Oh, you're wasting my time, you're just, just, just wasting time!”

“God, who’s gonna sing shitty with me when you’re not around?” Steve tossed the roll onto your bed, leaning back against the drawers behind him.

“Robin sucks more than I do,” you shot back, and Steve mumbled in agreement.

“Yeah, but she hates Tears for Fears,” there was a slight whine in his voice that made you look up at him over your box and grin.

“Well then save it for me when I’m back on Christmas break.”

Steve gave you a pout and folded his arms over his chest, “That’s like, a fucking eon from now.”

“It’s not that long,” you moved around the other side of your bed to sit in front of him, a small pause swallowing you both into silence.

Clearing your throat you dropped your gaze down your shoes, kicking them in time with the song still playing in the background. You glanced over at Steve’s dirty, beat up Blazers and smiled. “I guess I’ll miss you,” you teased, looking back up at him and he gave you a smile, but it softened the longer he looked at you.

“I know I’ll miss you,” he said, and you knew he meant it, and your heart fluttered in your chest like a bird caught in a cage as the air around you grew thick with words unsaid, but implied. Steve took a step away from the dresser, standing in the V of your legs, hand moving to lift your chin up with his thumb and forefinger.

You bit your bottom lip between your teeth, meeting his gaze, and everything felt hazy. “Miss you too, Stevie,” you murmured and he leaned down slowly. Tilting your chin ever so gently he hesitated for just a second before pressing his lips against yours. Your room and half-packed boxes and everything fell away in the warm, glittering feeling of Steve and summer and the last of the light falling through your window washed you both in gold like it wanted to hold you in that moment forever.

“How long are you in town for?” your voice broke the silence between you and Steve took another drink of his beer.

“Just til the day after the wedding, need to get back to things,” he said softly, stealing a look at you out of the corner of his eye, smiling at the way your nose scrunched up when you were thinking, “You look really pretty by the way.”

Your cheeks warmed and you stole a look at him too, “You have to say that.”

“No I don’t. I do on your wedding day, but this is a freebie,” he teased, trying to make it seem lighter than it was, but you both knew the weight it carried.

“Babe, c’mon. You gotta get back inside. It’s rude. People are looking for you,” the sudden sound of Sam’s voice sliced your moment in two and Steve sat up straight, leaning away from you as he rubbed the back of his neck.

“Alright, I just needed some air,” your voice sounded tired and Steve caught the look in your eyes as you roughed your hands over your face, “I’m coming.”

“Harrington,” Sam sniped, and Steve gave him a big smile, knowing just how much the other man hated finding the two of you sitting together.

“Sammy,” Steve teased and you had to bite back a laugh, hiding it in a cough, but Sam knew.

“I fuckin’ hate that,” Sam gave Steve a look and he just smiled.

“I think it’s cute,” you chimed in, but knew you should’ve kept it to yourself when Sam glared daggers at you.

“Inside,” he said, patience short, and you felt your own run out as you glared right back, but moved toward the slider door anyway.

“I’ll see you,” you told Steve and just before you slipped back into the chaos, he gave you a look. The same one you remembered from that hot summer evening in your room as you packed your life into boxes. A look that put fire to the embers lying dormant in your chest and something you thought had been extinguished flickered back to life.

“Sam, hurry up, we’re going to be late!”

“I’m trying. You know how much I hate being outside. These stupid boots are too tight and–” Sam grunted, leaning over to tug at his socks, “–these are itchy as hell.”

“You don’t have to wear them, but your legs are gonna get bit up and scratched on the trail,” you shook your head, yanking your own worn-in boots onto your feet.

“Bit? Are you kidding me?”

“What? It’s summer, there are a ton of bugs out right now.”

Sam sucked in a breath and put his face in his hands, standing on the other side of the bed from you. He’d agreed to it at first, thought maybe it might be a quaint little jaunt through a park, but when he realized it was an actual hike up the bluff just outside Hawkins – in nature – he’d thrown a fit.

It was one of your favorite places, a special piece of home, and you were going to go with or without him.

“Just stay home, Sam. It’s fine,” you huffed, kicking your suitcase shut, tugging your ponytail through the back of your baseball cap.

“You know what? Maybe I will. This whole place is too much. Jason’ll get beers with me,” he growled under his breath, yanking his boots off to get to his socks, “Enjoy your hike.”

“Great, thanks, will do,” you almost left the room without saying goodbye, but something made you hesitate and you paused for a second at the door, eyes squeezed shut. Why was everything so damn hard? This was supposed to be easy.

The happiest day of your life.

Resigned, you turned around and retraced the few steps over to Sam. “I’ll see you when we’re back,” you muttered, bending down and brushing a hasty kiss to his cheek.

“See you,” he didn’t meet your gaze, instead scowling at the ground and it was the push you needed to leave, the weight on your shoulders lifting as you hurried down the stairs and out the door.

The sun was just coming up, painting the sky cotton candy pinks and blurred warm tangerines. You could feel the heat already and as you got out of your car at the bluff the feeling of the sun on your bare legs pulled a heavy sigh from your lungs. Breathing out the stress and pressure of the last few days and you closed your eyes for a minute, leaning against the warmth of your car.

It would be okay. Today was for you. This was for you.

Opening them again you heard another car rumbling up the dirt road behind you and when you turned around you grinned so big your cheeks started to hurt.

“OH MY GOD,” Robin squealed. She practically leapt out of the backseat of Steve’s BMW and ran over to you, gathering you up in her arms and squeezing tight. “What the hell! You look amazing! Shit. Is this like, pre-wedding glow or did you stop eating meat or something? I hear it’s like, totally bad for your skin.”

“Robin,” Steve shook his head as he shut his car door before walking around to get Robin’s too.

“What? All legitimate questions! Right, Eds?” she shot back.

“I mean, not the first thing I’d ask,” Eddie replied with a grin, but you could hear the softness of him behind it.

“Alright, well I wouldn’t expect you to know anyway. Weddings are like a foreign language to you plebs,” Robin said simply, clicking her fanny pack around her waist.

“Hey, that’s not fair, I know enough,” Steve chimed in, propping a hand on his hip and giving Robin a look.

“Children, not about us today!” Eddie chided, following after Robin and gathering you up into one of his bear hugs. “Hi, sweetheart,” he held you out at arm’s length and gave you a warm Eddie smile.

“Hi,” you grinned back, the happiest you’d been in days just listening to the comforting sound of your friends bickering, “Missed you.”

“Mmm, you too,” Eddie hummed, shooting a quick glance over at Steve. “Some of us more than others,” he said a bit quieter, bringing his eyes back to you and you felt your cheeks flush.

“Okay, hike?” you deflected, then accusingly looked back at Eddie, “You’re not still smoking are you?”

“Only on Wednesdays,” he flipped back casually, but you knew he was full of shit.

“Munson, you’re a horrible liar,” Steve drawled, rolling his eyes, starting the walk to the edge of the bluff. “Nance and Jonathan are already at the top,” he said over his shoulder, “Jonathan wanted to get a time lapse of the sunrise.”

“Oh, sick,” Eddie clapped his hands, “I gotta see it. C’mon, Buckley get with it.” He waved an arm forward, pulling Robin into a jog and you shook your head with a soft laugh as you caught up with Steve. Starting up the bluff two by two.

The sounds of everything coming to life swirled around the four of you as you walked. The buzz of the insects, birds chirping their morning songs and tractors rumbling to life in the fields alongside the bluff.

Home.

“God, the last time we were up here was so Dustin could talk to Suzie,” Steve half-laughed, Eddie and Robin walking just ahead of you. You grinned at the memory.

“Oh no,” you shook your head, “They might be worse than we are at singing.”

“Didn’t think it was possible to be honest,” he teased gently, smiling over at you, looking for a long moment before dropping his gaze back down to his feet.

You could feel his eyes on you and the warmth of it filled you up and spilled over at the edges, making you happier than you’d been in a long time and a tiny pinch of guilt squeezed in your chest.

“Thanks for getting up so early,” you exhaled, breaths getting heavier as the incline of the bluff steepened, Steve pulling in a breath next to you.

“Oh, I don’t think I’ve slept in since high school,” he waved you off, “Managing a store’s got me up ass early every day. Besides, wouldn’t miss it.” Arms swinging at your sides, his fingers brushed against yours as you walked and the embers in your chest glowed bright.

“Yeah,” you sighed, wishing that for once Sam had come along. That he’d put even a little bit of effort into your interests. That he’d care even a fraction of what Steve cared and the embers flickered again with your frustration.

“You two are slow as hell!” Eddie teased and when you looked up you saw he and Robin had been moving much faster than you and Steve. “I’m smoking a victory cigarette at the top!” he yelled and Robin smacked him, both of them dissolving into laughter.

“C’mon, that asshole doesn’t need another cigarette,” Steve’s brow furrowed in frustration and he picked up the pace, pulling you along with him as he lengthened his stride.

Jonathan and Nancy were waiting for the four of you at the top and, much to Eddie’s dismay, Robin beat him by a couple of feet, stealing his cigarettes and jamming them into her fanny pack as punishment.

Jonathan had asked Nancy to marry him two years ago now, Christmas eve under the tree at the farm and they’d eloped that spring there on top of the bluff. It had been a small, but sweet ceremony, with only family and close friends. Perfectly Nance and Jonathan and as you thought back on it your stomach twisted with a longing feeling.

As you sat scattered among the long grass in pairs – Eddie and Robin, Nancy and Jonathan, you and Steve – a breeze picked up and blew through the wildflowers around you, taking then with it and you watched as the buttercups danced in the wind.

You wanted wildflowers. Not peonies and eucalyptus.

“Hey, where’d you go?” Steve’s voice pulled you out of your thoughts and you looked over at him, sat close enough to you in the grass that you could see all the little moles and freckles that dotted down the line of his jaw, his neck, the exposed skin along the top of his shirt.

“Flowers,” fell out and you didn’t shy away from him, meeting his gaze.

“Flowers?” he asked, brow knitting together in confusion.

“Stupid flowers. And cake. And nature and socks and–”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa. Slow down. What are you talking about?” Steve scooted closer to you, your legs pressing together as you sat facing each other and he put a hand on your knee.

Your throat tightened and you felt tears pricking at the corners of your eyes, but you willed them away. Not here. You didn’t mean it.

“Hey,” he said softer, hand lifting from your knee to press into yours and you blinked hastily, pulling in a breath to steady yourself.

“I don’t know,” you started, closing your eyes for a minute, trying to ground yourself. “I just–I thought this would be easier. We’re supposed to be in love and planning this should be fun, but it sucks and he–” catching yourself you looked back up at Steve and felt him squeeze your hand. “I’m sorry, it’s just stress. I shouldn’t–”

“You don’t have to apologize,” Steve said, thumb brushing over the bump of your knuckles, soft and warm and reassuring.

He was looking at you again like he had at the welcome party, like you were the only thing that existed in that moment and you felt yourself moving closer, your legs hovering over his with the lack of space.

“I wish Sam would look at me like that,” you whispered and Steve’s lips parted in surprise, anticipation grabbing hold of both of you as the wind picked up again.

“He’s an idiot if he doesn’t,” Steve whispered back, leaning closer still and you could feel his breath as it warmed over your cheek. The scent of his shampoo and spearmint gum and cedar and wildflowers flooding your brain and making everything feel hazy. His eyes all bright amber and flecks of gold in the sun. Closer and closer and closer and–

“Harrington! You left the food in the car!”

Leaning back from each other you felt the tension shatter with the bark of Eddie’s voice and you leapt to your feet.

“God, what a dingus,” Robin grumbled, “Now we gotta go back down.”

“Hey,” Steve scrambled to his feet ignoring them, grabbing your hand in his, “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, yeah I’m fine. I just–I forgot I have to meet with the baker today about the cake this morning.”

“Oh,” Steve’s expression was edged with concern and he let your hand drop as the others started moving to the top of the trail.

“Rehearsal dinner is tonight right?” Robin asked offhandedly, grabbing a piece of licorice from her fanny pack.

“You have licorice in there and didn’t offer me any?” Eddie accused.

“Yeah, tonight at seven at Hop and Joyce’s farm,” you said, trying to sound casual, but the warm feeling of Steve was still holding you tightly.

“Open bar?” Eddie grinned.

“Oh my god, Munson. Shut up,” Robin chided, shoving him as they all wandered down the path in a line, you and Steve bringing up the rear.

“Course it’s open bar,” you tried to laugh, but it fell short, everything feeling like it was crumbling now.

The breeze picked up, swirling around your feet, carrying spearmint and Steve’s shampoo and boy with it and as you watched the bachelor buttons sway with the wind you felt a thought gnawing at the back of your mind.

What if.

There was still time.

Nothing’s permanent.

People change their minds all the time and…

Come over here. All you've got is this moment, twenty-first century's yesterday. You can care all you want, everybody does, yeah, that's okay.

“Chug, chug, chug!” “Don’t be a pussy, Jason!” “No way, he’s too old!”

It felt like you were back in high school throwing a rager over at Tina Rochester’s house not having drinks after your rehearsal dinner, but after most of the ‘adults’ had all gone home things got carried away.

Hop and Joyce’s farm was far enough outside of town that the noise wouldn’t bother anyone and thank god because it was loud. Maybe open bar hadn’t been the best idea, but Sam was having a great time, smiling and laughing for once and you didn’t fight it. You were having fun too.

“Ohhh! He did it!!” “Get that man a medal!”

Jason Carver, Sam’s best man, crushed his empty beer can under his foot to whoops and hollers. You weren’t sure who started it, but someone had told someone else they could shotgun a beer faster and it spiraled from there. Sam was in his element, partying alongside the other ex-basketball players, and for a minute you felt like maybe things would be okay.

Gathering you up in his arms, Sam spun you in a circle, pressing his lips messy and drunk against your cheek. “God, babe. Should be illegal to look that good,” he slurred into your ear, arms still holding you tight as he lowered you slowly back to the ground.

A grin tugged at the corners of your lips. “Gonna write me a ticket?” you teased and he reached a hand around to grab at your ass.

“Maybe I will,” he breathed and you felt a shiver run down your spine, but then a voice pulled him away.

“Sam? Oh my god!”

Carol and Tommy. Great.

“Carol?? I didn’t think y’all were getting here til tomorrow! Tommy, you look like shit,” Sam barked a laugh and lunged at his old friend, grabbing him around the waist and pushing him across the patio.

“Fuck off, you’re one to talk,” Tommy growled back, digging his hands into Sam’s ribs and both of them fell back into their old selves. Talking about a couple of friends that had gone pro, work, what married life was like for Tommy and Carol.

“Babe, go get me another beer, huh?” Sam said over his shoulder and you rolled your eyes, but giving Carol a quick hug you made your way over to the keg.

Priming the tap you started to pour beer into a cup, but it sputtered and choked before spilling foam and you frowned. “Piece of shit,” kicking the keg you shook the garbage can it was sitting in and tried again, but this time nothing came out.

“Need a hand?”

Eyes still on the keg you sighed, a smile pulling at the corners of your lips as you dumped the foam in your cup onto the ground. “Tapped already,” you grumbled, turning around to see Steve grinning at you, hands jammed in his pockets, tie loose and hanging around his neck and you swore he was the most handsome human being you’d ever laid eyes on.

“Hmm, I don’t think so,” he took the last few steps toward you and primed the tap again, giving the keg one firm shake, and grabbed the cup from you. Foam started coming out and you jammed your tongue into your cheek.

“Ha! Told you–”

But then the foam turned into cold, amber beer, and you clamped your mouth shut.

“You were saying?” Steve teased and you shoved him, spilling some of the beer that he’d just poured into your cup on the ground. “Hey! You’re a menace,” he chided softly, shouldering you back, but grabbing the spout again he filled the cup once more and handed it back to you.

“Thanks,” you muttered, glancing over at him as you took a sip.

“Sam seems to be having a good time,” he commented, finding a cup of his own and filling it.

“Yeah, right back to high school.” You watched as your fiance, Tommy, and Jason all snickered and laughed at each other, talking about ‘the good old’ days, and your smile fell.

You couldn’t remember the last time he laughed like that with you. When he was drinking he got more handsy, liked to keep you close to his side and brag about how you were about to get married, but nothing about how hard you worked or the fact that you were saving up to buy a place.

“I dunno,” Steve sighed, taking a drink of his beer, “I don’t miss it.”

“Me either,” you agreed, glancing up at him, and your heart stopped.

God he was pretty. The string of lights that wound around the property washed him in a warm glow. Hair falling out of place as the night spun on, the line of his jaw cast in half light, dark and strong, the long sweep of his lashes as he blinked and looked down at you, the way his lips pulled up into that smile.

“What?” Steve asked, tone amused and playful and your eyes grew wide.

“What?” you echoed stupidly.

Steve laughed and gave you a lopsided smile. “You tell me, you’re the one zoning out,” he teased and your cheeks flushed.

“Oh, n-nothing,” you stumbled over your words and quickly filled the silence with another gulp of beer.

“Okay, well when it comes back to you lemme know.” His eyes lingered on yours for just a moment longer and then a look came over him. Like he remembered something. “Oh, hey. C’mere a minute,” and then he was grabbing your hand and pulling you around the side of the barn.

As he pulled you into motion you felt just how buzzed you were and a giggle pushed itself through your lips. “What the hell are we doing?” you asked, Steve loosing a laugh of his own as he yanked you both to a stop a few yards away from the party out in the long grass of Hop’s field.

“There,” he said pointing up and you followed the line of his arm into the sky until your eyes landed on it.

“Oh,” you breathed, pulling your gaze back to Steve as he looked up into the inky black expanse of the Indiana night. He was just how you remembered him. Hair messed, all boyish and eyes full of wonder and curiosity, just like he’d been those years ago that night in his backyard while you floated in his pool.

“Yeah, that one. Right there,” Steve swam closer to you, grabbing your arm, fingers folding yours in to make a point and tugging it up over your head.

Your breath hitched in your throat as his legs brushed against yours under the water and it took everything you had in you to pull your eyes from him to look up.

“See it?”

“That one?” you asked, pointing on your own, and he nodded as your eyes trailed up the line of your arm to land on an especially bright star.

“Mmhm,” Steve murmured and all you wanted was to look at him again, so you did. “While you’re gone you can just look up at that at night and think of me,” he said matter-of-fact, giving you one of his lopsided grins.

“What if we’re not looking at the same time?”

“I’ll always be looking,” Steve’s voice was barely above a whisper and the way he looked at you made you feel like you might melt. Blinking water from your lashes you lifted a hand to his cheek and at your touch his hands slipped along the bare skin of your waist, sliding down to your hips as he slowly pulled you into him.

The pool filter was humming heavy between the all crickets and frogs and lightning bugs, but you knew the thudding of your heartbeat was louder than all of it.

Wrapping your legs around Steve’s torso, you laced your fingers at the back of his neck, wanting him closer and tighter. Hair messed and flat against his forehead, his lips were parted as he breathed you in, water dripping off the end of his nose and eyes glittering in the pool lights, burnt caramel and honey and if he hadn’t been holding onto you, you would’ve floated away.

His fingers pressed into the soft skin at your hips and you sucked in a small gasp.

“Sorry,” he whispered, and you shook your head in reply. It’s okay. And then he gently pressed his thumb to the corner of your lips, swallowing against his nerves, and asked, “Can I kiss you?”

Heart racing, fingers still tangled at the back of his neck you whispered, “Yes.”

“Remember when we found it?”

Steve’s question brought you hurtling back to the present and you shook your head, heart racing in your chest like it had that night in his pool. “Of course I remember,” you murmured, and you knew you were crossing a line, knew you shouldn’t have done it, knew Sam was just around the other side of the barn, but something in you snapped. Shifted. Decided it didn’t care and you took Steve’s hand in yours.

His eyes flicked down to where they were joined and then back up to you, “But–”

“We’re friends,” you reasoned softly, “Friends hold hands.”

“Are we?” he asked and you swore you felt your heart crack as your fingers scrambled to tangle up with his.

“Yeah. Yes. We are,” your words came spilling out, the beer spidering warm and hazy through your body as you tried to justify your action and Steve’s brows furrowed as he dropped his gaze.

“I should go,” he said and regret gripped you like a vice.

“Don’t, please don’t,” your tone was almost pleading, watching as Steve’s eyes fluttered shut for a moment, working through his own decision and you thought for a minute he would cave like he always did for you, but then his hand was untangling from yours and the ache in your chest was almost enough to pull tears from your eyes.

“You’re getting married tomorrow,” he said, voice thick and low, and when he opened his eyes finally to look at you, you saw a thousand I’m sorrys, all the regret and lingering kisses on hot summer nights and promises whispered in the dark and you shook your head.

“But it’s not–we can’t–please stay,” nothing you said made sense and Steve ran a hand through his hair, pulling his lip between his teeth.

“Get some sleep. I’ll see you at the church.”

And as you watched his figure walk away, silhouetted and dark against the indigo sky, your star blinking bright above you, you felt tears finally well up and spill down your cheeks.

Sucking in a breath you turned back to the the wide open expanse of field behind you and buried your face in your hands, trying to calm down, willing the tears to stop, telling yourself that you loved Sam. You were getting married. The ring on your finger a constant reminder of what was supposed to happen tomorrow and when you finally lifted your head from your hands your eyes fell on a bright patch there in the field at your feet.

Wildflowers.

Walking back to the party felt like a blur, Steve’s words playing over and over in your mind, and when you came back into the glow of the strung up lights your eyes searched frantically for Sam. If you could just hold his hand, pull him in close you’d know you loved him. Would know you wanted to marry him, but he wasn’t there and everything felt like it was unraveling.

“Hey, are you okay?” Robin’s hand was at your elbow and when you looked up at her, her brow furrowed with worry. “Whoa, what happened?”

“I just need to find Sam, have you seen him?”

“Yeah, yeah I think he was just over here, c’mon. Are you sure you’re okay?”

“I just need Sam,” you choked out, Robin’s hand grabbing yours and pulling you along.

“Okay, we’ll find him, it’ll be okay.”

And as you rounded the corner into the quiet of the barn you heard hushed voices. Robin flicked on the overhead lighting to reveal Carol and Sam talking, huddled close to one another and your heart stopped in your chest.

“Wha–Sam? Carol?”

Carol’s eyes went wide and she took a couple steps back, giving you one of her smiles, all flimsy and saccharine sweet. “Oh my god, we thought you left!” she exclaimed, trying a laugh and you heard Robin mumble something under her breath next to you.

“Well, I didn’t. It’s my rehearsal dinner.”

“Babe, we were just trying to plan a surprise for you. For tomorrow, that’s all,” Sam said, taking the few steps toward you, taking your hand in his, but you felt sick to your stomach. You knew that look in his eye, his tone of voice overcompensating for something, lying.

“Yeah! Totally,” Carol said a little too enthusiastically and Robin had had enough.

“Oh my god, totally great!” she mocked, throwing one of Carol’s empty smiles back at her before taking your hand. “It’s super late, Carol. Time to go,” this time Robin’s voice was void of all joking and the look she gave the other girl was enough to push her to leave.

“Absolutely, sure thing. See you tomorrow! Can’t wait,” she purred, but her smile faltered as she met your gaze, walking quickly back out into the night.

“Babe, we really were planning a surprise, I–I just want tomorrow to be perfect,” Sam took your hand from Robin, shouldering her out of the way and she scoffed, still lingering in case you needed her.

“In here? In the dark?” your voice wobbled a bit as you realized what you were implying and Sam squeezed your hand, but it felt suffocating not warm or safe like Steve and you pulled it away. “I’m gonna go home, get some sleep.”

“Of course, baby. Whatever you need,” Sam crowded around you, rubbing your shoulders and pressing a kiss to the nape of your neck, but you didn’t want any of it and shrugged him off.

“Can you give me a ride, Robs?” you asked, pulling away from Sam, your feet not moving you fast enough.

“Yeah, yeah I can give you a ride,” Robin took your hand again, Sam finding himself alone in the wide expanse of the barn on the eve of your wedding.

The happiest day of your life.

“Listen, can I tell you something?” Robin said shifting into park as she turned down the radio and idled in your parents’ driveway.

“Sure,” your voice was small, timid, not you as your thoughts still lingered on what Steve had said. What Sam and Carol had looked like huddled close together in Hop’s barn. Asking yourself why. Asking yourself what you really wanted.

“I don’t think you should get married.”

Your head whipped up from your lap, brows knitted together. “What?”

“I don’t think you should get married,” Robin said again voice softer this time, knowing the weight it carried as she let it settle in the car between you.

“It’s literally happening tomorrow. What d’you mean don’t get married,” you were scrambling now, afraid of what would happen if you let her woods take root, the doubt that had been hovering deep down now pushing itself front and center.

“People do it all the time–”

“No, they don’t!” tears were welling up against your lashes, your face growing hot, willing yourself not to fall apart.

“Okay! Okay, I’m sorry. Of course I’m gonna support you no matter what you decide,” Robin quickly recovered, grabbing your hands in hers as her expression softened. “Just–” a small sigh escaped her and she squeezed your hand, “–I want you to be happy. That’s all. Are you happy?”

Are you happy?

Robin looked at you, eyes wide, hands still holding onto yours and you felt yourself wrestling with the three simple words she’d thrown at you. Swallowing thickly, you couldn’t meet her gaze and pulled your hands away, grabbing at the door handle.

“I’m happy, I am,” and even you knew how flimsy it sounded, but your friend didn’t push you on it.

“Okay, okay. See you in the morning,” Robin said softly and all you could do was nod in reply before shutting the door and hurrying up the walk and into your parents’ house.

You didn’t bother showering as you moved quickly up the stairs to your room, not wanting to face your parents, not like this. Quietly shutting your door you felt the sob in your chest clawing its way up your throat and you tried to swallow it down as you threw back your covers and hid in the deep pile of blankets. You thought for a split second to call Sam over at Jason’s, ask him if he really loved you, if he still wanted to go through with this, but you buried your face into your pillow and tried to push your thoughts away.

Doubt had started blooming in the pit of your stomach from the moment you’d said yes, but it had just felt like the next right thing. Felt like you were supposed to. Date your boyfriend for a couple of years, move in together, get married. Right? But the things you tried hard to ignore kept bubbling up.

Your hesitation when Sam first asked you out. Your trips home on breaks and seeing Steve. The feelings you wrestled with when you saw him. When he talked to you and listened, really listened and looked at you. How it felt like a giant weight being lifted from your shoulders without Sam there.

Your first fight with Sam over money. How he spent so much of it going out with his friends. How you knew they stayed out late and talked to other girls. The high he got from it too much to stop him from doing it. The smell of the other girls on his clothes.

The first time he cheated on you and begged you to take him back. How the first person you wanted to call was Steve, but you called Robin instead.

And now the planning. All the disagreements and arguing and fighting and you were exhausted and he couldn’t even keep away from other women, from Carol, still after all that time.

Are you happy?

Robin’s question looped in your head and you knew the real answer.

No. But then…

Tap. Tap, tap tap.

Peeking your head out from under your covers your ears strained, trying to decide what it was you’d heard. Then it happened again.

Tap, tap. Tap.

There was only one thing that could make that sound, an all too familiar one that pulled forth a flood of precious, happy memories.

Rocks on your window.

Steve.

Crawling out of your bed you hurried to your window and yarded it open, sticking your head out and looking down like you’d done hundreds of times before. “Steve?” you hissed into the dark, and as the wind blew the clouds away from the moon, it shone down on the lawn below you washing Steve in soft light.

“Can I come up?”

You bit your bottom lip between your teeth, but knew there was no debate. “Yeah, hurry up,” and you moved out of the way as he started climbing the gutter before you’d even said yes.

Stumbling in through the open window Steve straightened up and dusted off his old, faded Hawkins High Athletics shirt, a pair of grey sweatpants hanging on his hips, the same pair of dirty, beat up Blazers on his feet.

“Hi,” he said awkwardly, tongue jammed into his cheek as he rubbed the back of his neck.

“Hi?” it came out expectantly, a question, but you couldn’t hide the relief in your voice at the sight of him standing there in your room.

“Listen, I just wanted to say sorry. For earlier,” he said, walking to your bed and plopping down on the messed up covers.

“Oh, that’s okay, I shouldn’t have–”

“Just let me apologize,” he said shaking his head with a half laugh, expression mismatched as it twisted with something between regret and care.

So you listened and kept your mouth shut, instead deciding to settle down next to him on your bed, thighs pressed together on the small twin sized mattress. Silence lingered for a minute, but the air was heavy, loaded, like how it felt right before a thunderstorm. The sky holding its breath before opening up and pouring rain, cracking the sky in half with bright streaks of light.

You both stole a look at the same time and it pulled a smile from each of you, tiny breathy laughs falling from your lips, but when it quieted again the tension flooded back in.

“Do you love him?” Steve broke the quiet and you felt your chest tighten. When you hesitated he grabbed your hand in his. “Do you?”

Your pulse fluttered against your neck, your mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water and stumbling and choking on your words, but you knew the answer. You both did. You’d just admitted it to yourself before Steve had fallen through your window and the familiar feeling of panic started to creep in around you, flinging you back to right before you’d left home again. Before you met Sam.

“Steve! Wait!”

You were practically running after him as he stalked back to his car, the sky on fire with the sunset and streaked in cherry reds, sunflower yellows, and bright tangerine.

He fumbled with his keys and dropped them into the grass at his feet, “Shit.”

“Please, just wait,” you were out of breath as you finally reached him and you saw his frame crumple as he loosed a sigh.

“Jesus, what?” his tone was short, clipped as he stared through his car window, your reflection playing against the glass.

“It’s only for another year, it’s not like I’m gonna be gone for–”

“Yeah! Another year!” Steve spun around to face you, cheeks red and lips pulled down into a frown, a muddied mixture of sadness and anger swimming in his eyes. “Just admit it, you don’t wanna come back here, and that’s fine! But don’t make me wait. Please don’t make me wait anymore. It–” Steve choked on his words and dropped his eyes to his feet, biting on the inside of his cheek to blunt the feelings swelling his chest. “It hurts. To sit and wait here for you. Please,” his voice edged on pleading and you felt tears prick at the corners of your eyes.

“It’ll work! It’s just a little longer–”

Steve took a step into you, crowding over you, and you felt your heart stutter in your chest at the closeness of him. He lifted a hand to your cheek, his brows pulling together as he looked down at you, eyes searching yours. “Then be with me. If it’s not that long then be with me. Long distance for a little while until you’re done with school,” he said, voice barely above a whisper.

“Steve. I can’t–” your throat tightened around what you were about to say, scared of what that commitment looked like, scared to fuck it up between you, scared to lose your best friend, but your hesitation broke it anyway.

He dropped his hand away from your cheek, tongue flicking out to run along his lips as he held back his anger. His sadness. Frustration. Snatching his keys from the grass he unlocked the driver side door and flung it open rough.

“No! Wait! I just mean–”

“No!” he shouted into his car and then lowered his voice, tears streaming silently down his cheeks, “No. No more. Good luck with…everything.” And he piled into his car, slamming the door shut and ignoring your cries as you crowded against his window, asking him to stay. To talk about it. To figure things out, but he shifted it in drive and took off down your driveway and into the night.

You weren’t going to fuck it up. Not again.

“No,” and as your admission left your lips the heavy weight that had settled on your shoulders over the last two years started to melt away. “No. I don’t love him.”

Steve’s hold on you tightened, pressing your fingers into his palm and he lifted his free hand to your cheek, eyes searching yours, “Don’t marry him.”

Don’t marry him.

Your breath quickened and you pulled your bottom lip between your teeth, trying to reason out what you’d just decided and you felt anxious, but Steve was there. And your room was warm and safe. Just like it was when you were younger. When you both laughed and traded secrets and made promises to each other in the dark.

“But. The wedding. The flowers, the cake, the guests–”

“Fuck ‘em,” Steve said, still holding onto your hand, and his words swirled around in your head. “It’s only a wedding. This is your life,” brushing the rough pad of his thumb across your cheek you closed your eyes and leaned into his touch, “You’re not happy.”

And you weren’t. You’d had moments with Sam, moments in time where things felt right and like maybe it could be forever, but they were just that. Moments. It shouldn’t be this hard. You’d sacrificed, compromised, bent and twisted yourself to be what Sam wanted, what he needed, not what you wanted and when you finally looked up at Steve you felt tears welling up against your lashes.

“What will my mom say,” your voice wobbled as you tangled your fingers with Steve’s and he gave you a small, reassuring smile.

“She wants you to be happy too. She’ll be okay.”

You were dizzy, hazy with thoughts of not being engaged anymore, buzzing with the anticipation of what this decision meant. Of what it held. What the future could be and you looked back up at Steve, tears started to quietly spill down your cheeks and his hand was quick to gently wipe them away. You shook your head, holding your breath, and when you let it go everything came tumbling out.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry for making you wait. For hurting you. For everything–”

“Shh, it’s okay,” Steve softly chided, but you pressed on.

“No, no it’s my turn,” you said, voice thick through your tears, and then you turned to cup Steve’s face in your hands. A small smile pulled up at the corners of your mouth even through your crying and you pulled in a breath, “I love you, Stevie. I always have.”

The look on his face then was one of pure adoration, of relief, and he gave you a smile back, “I know. I love you too.”

I love you too.

Pulling him into you, you felt the soft warmth of his breath across your cheek, the smell of his shampoo and fresh laundry flooding your senses. Hesitating, waiting for him to tell you it was okay and he silently answered you by leaning in and closing the gap between your lips, pressing his softly into yours.

It was slow and languid, a thousand I love yous. Years of want and aching set free into the dark of your room as you breathed each other in like air. The feeling of Steve scattering you out into the stars to live with the one you’d deemed as yours, falling between all the glittering constellations and floating in each other.

I love you too.

Reluctantly Steve pulled away from you, eyes fluttering open to look into yours and he took hold of your waist. “Run away with me,” he whispered.

Your brows pulled together, “Run away?”

“Yeah. Right now. Throw your suitcase in my car and we’ll just drive. Get away from everything, just for a little while until you’re ready.”

Mind racing, working through the logistics of what he was suggesting, you almost protested, but something in you fought back. Told you to listen to your heart, not your head. What did you want? What would make you happy?

“Okay.”

“Really?” Steve’s face lit up at your response, like he hadn’t expected it, and you felt your lips pull up into a smile, tears drying on your cheeks as you let the feeling swallow you up in its warmth. The embers in your chest crackling and flickering with life, with a fire that burned only for him.

“Yeah, yeah I don’t care. I just want to be with you,” you felt yourself grow more and more confident, more decided and Steve pulled you in again to press another kiss to your lips. This time it was hotter, bolder, a confession of passion and you grinned into him.

“C’mon, if we go now we can get coffee at that shitty diner just off the highway outside of town,” he was grinning now too.

“They make the best pancakes,” you laughed softly and Steve’s smile melted as he looked at you.

Finally.

He helped you gather your things, carrying your suitcase out to his car, and you felt like you could fly. Lighter than you’d been in years and the thought of just driving down the road with him filled you with warmth. Like watching the sun set at the end of a hot summer day. Like dipping your feet in the pool after sitting in the heat. Sweet like the taste that followed after a tart drink of lemonade.

You left your engagement ring on your dresser, a small folded note under it for Sam telling him sorry. Telling him you hoped he would find what he wanted. That you knew he’d be okay. And as you closed the door to your parents’ house you felt like you were closing that chapter. Ready to start new. To free fall into this open-ended story with Steve and as you settled into his car your eyes caught a small patch of lawn on the side of your house. Bright and soft in the moonlight and full of color.

Wildflowers.

crappymixtape™ • steve harrington masterlist // stranger things masterlist

[crappymixtape]

You rang?

I'm having some serious regrets that I didn't make Professor!Steve a music prof. Like HeLLoOooOoo it's RIGHT THERE ON A PLATTER PALMTREES. 🤦🏼‍♀️

Guess that's up to someone else to take a bite outta .... 👀 (I'm talking to you....one of you out there)

[crappymixtape]

Hi. Yeah, I need Professor Harrington rotating on a spit over over an open flame so I can gobble him up, please and thank youuuuuuuu 🙏🏻

oh, sweet nonny, don''t you worry. he's being prepped right now 🔥 if you need an appetizer first, go check out @palmtreesx3 professor!steve fic she just posted cos holyyyyy shiiiiit 🥵🥵🥵

[crappymixtape]

BETWEEN THE PAGES • ( professor!steve x reader )

“I expect you all to read through page 119 by Monday. There’ll be a quiz on the materials covered so far this term and—”

“Dude.”

“Awh, c’mon, man.”

“I have a game on Saturday!”

“—and it should be an easy 20 points toward your final grade,” he finished. “Three days is plenty of time, you can drink between chapters,” your professor teased your classmates wryly as he stacked the pile of papers on his desk neatly, fingers deftly tucking them into his worn, leather briefcase.

“What if we only get through part of it?” Someone asked from the back of the room.

“Then you’d better brush up on your bullshitting,” the older man quipped, a flash of a grin tugging at the corners of his lips. “Class dismissed, see you next week.”

He tucked his briefcase under his arm and plucked the cold cup of coffee from his desk as the room slowly emptied.

Professor Harrington’s classes were always the first to fill at the beginning of each term, and when you’d shown up on the first day you were reminded of Indiana Jones. Desks mostly filled with young girls gawking over him, staring and not paying any attention to the lesson, the guys all just struggling to keep up, but with English 104 required to graduate, everyone had to take it.

Your professor’s gaze dipped down to the fountain pen he’d used to scribble notes with at the start of class and a few locks of hair fell over his forehead, its usual chestnut color turned gold in the sunlight pouring through the windows. The tie around his neck had loosened throughout the morning, the thick, thatch of hair on his chest peeking out past the top button. He’d opted to leave his usual jacket behind, weather warming with late spring, and the sleeves of his button down were rolled up to his elbows, showing off muscles that pulled and flexed down his arms as he twisted the cap back onto his pen.

Was he one of the most attractive men you’d ever laid eyes on? Yes. Was he older than you? Also yes, but you were a late bloomer and everyone else in class was at least five years your junior. Besides, looking and doing were two different things.

You took your time putting your things into your bag, watching as he raked a hand through his hair, pushing it out of his eyes. When his glasses slipped down his nose, he lifted a finger to hold them in place and his gaze flicked up to meet yours, eyes alight in the sun, liquid, deep pools of amber.

“Oh-uhm—” you stuttered, caught. “Sorry, professor. I just had a question about the reading,” you lied.

Something warm flickered in his gaze as he gave you a genuine smile. “Don’t be sorry! I’m always happy to discuss. I’d rather you ask questions than struggle or have to guess,” he said, stepping out from behind his desk. “My office hours run from now until 2 if you have a minute?”

Your cheeks warmed at the thought of being in his office. Sitting close together at his desk as the cirtusy spice of his cologne overwhelmed your senses. Leaning over the text and listening to the low timbre of his voice as he explained the symbolism in Wuthering Heights and the brutality and wildness of human nature.

“Yeah, I have a gap between classes,” you choked out, trying to recover. He smiled and held the door for you, “Thank you, Professor.”

“Please,” he insisted, the wide warm expanse of his palm ghosting over the small of your back, “Call me, Steve.”

HNGGGGGGG— yes, professor, harrington 😵 *adds to WIP list*

[crappymixtape]

fun lil throwback, i miss this series 🥲 think imma try and finish it this summer 🫶🏼

something infinite • part nine

SOMETHING INFINITE • PART NINE Y O U C O U L D H A V E M I N E

part nine of something infinite – you were unafraid to face steve head on when he fucked up, but now it's your turn to face the music and it scares you | ( 2k, tiny angst, lil fluff, enemies to lovers, steve x you, steve x reader – find the rest of the series and more here and find the series playlist on spotify here)

J U L Y 1 9 8 7 🎶  j’s lullaby ( darlin’ i’d wait for you ), delaney bailey

The sun fell softly through Steve’s window. Fingers of light stretching over the shapes of you, his chest rising and falling with each breath, the fan above pushing cool morning air around the room before it grew too hot, sticky and warm in the Indiana heat. Slowly opening your eyes you blinked away sleep, Steve lazily swimming into focus next to you.

A mess of brown hair, the stretch of his shoulders, tiny little moled and freckled constellations chasing along his back, decorating the soft slope of his jaw, lips parted, long sweep of lashes kissing his cheeks.

The most obnoxious boy who’d stolen your heart. Had scattered it into a million tiny pieces. Helped you to pick them all up and put it back together. Had shaped it into something new you’d never expected and now.

What were you now?

Your eyes roamed the walls of his room, mostly bare, covered in checkered wallpaper with one lonely photo of a sports car framed over his desk. A lamp, a few books, a pair of 3D glasses, and a bowling pin? Your lips pulled up into a smile and you wondered at the story behind it. The chair at the desk had a pair of grey sweats hung over the back and a couple of his dresser drawers were half open with socks or shirt sleeves peeking out.

Steve’s room.

Sounds of morning trickled in through the curtains, the low hum of the pool filter, birds in the maple tree outside his window, the rumble of the tractors in the fields and your thoughts drifted back to the night before.

To Steve.

The way he felt.

Fingers pressing into your hips, mouth brushing warm against your neck, his pretty parted lips and the way he said your name. The inky black of his room swallowing you into its secrets, promising to keep the things you said to each other in the dark.

Turning onto your side you moved to face him, tentatively lifting a hand aching to trace your fingers over his shoulder, to search and feel and discover him in the daylight, but he pulled in a breath. Long and sleepy and languid and you drew your hand back, lip bit between your teeth. Hesitation holding you tight, winding you back, afraid to wobble things again. To undo all the repair.

Afraid of what the end of August would mean if you wondered too hard at it.

You wanted to stay, wanted to curl into Steve, fit against him like roots curled around the bottom of pot, but something in you told you to go. Go before he woke up.

So you slipped your legs over the edge of the bed, one of his too-long shirts dancing atop your thighs, and you quietly gathered your things. Curling your fingers around the door you pulled it open slowly, but you stopped short. A quick glance over your shoulder.

He was still sleeping and a smile tugged at the corner of your lips. Even tangled up in the mess of sheets he was so damn pretty, but one last look and you were down the stairs and out the door. Sandals clutched in your hands, bare feet gathering the morning dew as you snuck across the lawn back over to your aunt’s, you found everyone still sleeping there as well. No one none the wiser and your secrets safe with Steve.

It was early, but you could already feel the sun kissing your skin, hot and sticky on your shoulders and neck as you pushed your skateboard down the bumps of the pavement. You were never late for your shift at the library, but your alarm hadn’t gone off and Will had been the one to poke his head in on you.

It had all been a hurried mess as you threw on whatever you could find quickly, hesitating ever so slightly at the shirt of Steve’s sitting atop your dresser before grabbing a Pop Tart and rushing out the door.

Waves of heat lifted from the parking lot, making the library look like it was wobbling as you kicked up over the curb and jogged to the door. Joyce’s car was already in it’s spot and you felt your stomach sink at the thought of what she was going to say, but it immediately flipped over when you saw Steve’s car sitting next to it.

Of course he was here.

But now you were more worried about what he was going to say because he was the one you’d left without so much as goodbye the morning before. A poor attempt at avoiding an inevitable conversation. One you didn’t want to have. The one where you were leaving at the end of the August.

“Hey, sleepyhead!” your aunt caught sight of you as soon as you were in the door.

Shhh!

“Sorry!” Joyce tried again, an apologetic look given to the old woman reading at the table near the front desk. “Hey, sleepyhead,” she said quieter, giving you a little wave, “Doing okay? You seemed like you needed a few extra Z’s this morning.”

Your cheeks flushed as she pointed out you being tired, but you gave her a smile anyway, “Yeah! Yeah, doing okay. Sorry I’m late.”

“You’re fine, sweetie. Return’s cart is there at the end of the A–L aisle when you’re settled.”

Glancing up you saw the roller full of books, but no sight of Steve and your stomach flipped over again. He couldn’t at least have given you the advantage of knowing where he was in the library?

A sigh escaped you as you walked over to the cart and thumbed through the titles, seeing A through C had already been put back, and your eyes flicked up again to look down the row, but still no sight of him. Biting your lip between your teeth you knew you couldn’t just hang around waiting and instead grabbed the stack of D titles and got to it.

One minute ticked by painfully slow.

Then five.

Then ten. Eleven. Twelve.

Was he lost in the library? You almost asked Joyce, but didn’t want to draw anymore attention to it than was necessary and just kept at the task at hand, trying your hardest not to let your mind wander too far.

Leaning up on tip toe you wobbled, trying to slide the book you were holding into place, but a hand reached over yours to grab it before you could put it away.

“You’re in E, that one goes in F.”

It felt like you’d just been shocked, a tiny jolt of electricity up your arm as the hand brushed against yours, and when you looked over your breath hitched in your throat.

“I’m pretty good at reading,” Steve teased, a little grin tugging up at the corner of his mouth and you couldn’t help smiling yourself, swatting at his hand.

“Thanks, Einstein,” you half-whispered back, but his grin fell the longer he looked at you and your chest squeezed with nerves. “Get lost?” you tried to tease again, but the air had shifted and it came out weak.

“Could ask you the same thing.”

You shied away from him then, turning back to the shelf and finding F to put the book back correctly. “I overslept,” you answered, knowing that wasn’t what he was talking about. He hummed, still standing behind you, but you kept your eyes on the shelf hoping he’d leave it even though you knew better.

“Wasn’t a problem yesterday,” his tone was gently teasing, but softer. Wondering. Not angry, but wanting to know, “Why’d you leave?” You could feel his hesitation then and it finally made you turn around so that you saw the pinch between his brows as he worked through things. Looking at you eyes all brown sugar and honey, lashes sweeping his cheeks as they crinkled at the corners. A tiny sliver of regret, “Are you still mad at me?”

“No—“ you started, then huffed a sigh, “Shit.” Tossing the book you were holding back onto the cart you took his hand and led him further down the aisle, back to the corner he’d pulled you into all those weeks ago when you first met, away from eyes and ears and he followed.

It was quieter back there, away from the long bank of windows and air conditioning vents, away from the rows of computers and the beep of the book scanner, and when you turned around it was just you and Steve.

“I’m not mad at you,” you started, fingers picking at the frayed hem of your jean shorts, eyes on the carpet at your feet. This wasn’t you, wasn’t the confident you that took him head on. Called him on his shit. Walked to his door at midnight. Kissed him without a second thought.

Sensing something was off Steve reached a hand out, tangling his fingers with yours, and squeezed. A silent, Its okay. “What is it?” he brought his other hand to your chin and lifted it gently between his thumb and forefinger, meeting your eyes in the middle.

And everything was dizzy. Your thoughts hazy and muddled with the closeness of him. The scent of him all cedar and boy and fresh laundry. Scattered moles and dotted freckles. Skin warm like it held summer beneath it and you had to blink it all away before you spoke.

“Its just–” you sucked in a breath, trying to steady your words, but if you said it aloud it would make it real. Make this time you had here finite. It had an end. And so did you and Steve.

“Shit. I–I'm sorry if I hurt you or–or if it wasn’t good for you. I just, I thought that you know, you sounded like you were into it and so I kept going and–”

Your eyes went wide as you lifted your fingers to press to his mouth, the fastest way to stop his run away train of thought, and you had to bite back a laugh. “Oh my god, Steve. No. That part was…” heat turned your cheeks rosy. The way he said your name, the curve of his shoulders, teeth on skin and, “Not that. Promise.”

Relief washed over him and he huffed a nervous laugh, “Christ. Okay, yeah. Good. Great. That’s great.” He took a step closer to you then, fingers still wrapped around yours, brows pulling together again as his eyes searched yours, “Listen. If this is about you leaving…”

The laugh that had been ready to leap forth died with his words and you dropped your eyes back to the floor. He was wearing his stupid dirty Blazers again, white streaked in green from running in the grass. Dirt and tiny rocks wedged in the grooves. Your red Vans didn’t fare any better and he didn’t let you look long as he leaned down to catch your gaze.

“Hey," he pulled you out of your head and the way he looked at you made you feel like it was going to be okay. "We don’t have to talk about it. Not right now. That’s like…a month away or something. I didn’t even get you a strawberry shake from the diner yet." You smiled at the thought of that and he smiled back. "Still have to hit the drive-in and go to the bluff and the arcade and–” his hand cupped the soft curve of your cheek and lifted it, “–don’t worry about it, Princess.”

You leveled him with a look, “Ass." But there was no heat behind it as your lips twisted. Fighting against a smile despite that stupid nickname, and it pulled a grin out of him.

“Best one in town,” he joked, wiggling his eyebrows at you and you scoffed reaching out to swat at him, but he caught your hand and pulled you into him, arms wrapping snug and warm around your waist.

“After mine,” you teased softly and his grin melted as he leaned into you.

“Of course, ladies first,” and then he pressed his lips to yours, sweet like cherries and warm like sunshine, filling you up and spilling over at the edges as your hands tangled around the back of his neck.

Kissing Steve felt like forever. Like time stood still. Felt

infinite.

SOMETHING INFINITE SYNOPSIS: hawkins, indiana, 1987 – your mom is out of town for the summer on business and she sends you to live with your aunt joyce and her husband jim in hawkins while she’s gone. joyce works at the library and jim is the town sheriff – the kids, will, jonathan and el slowly warm up to you and it’s after you get in with them that you really start to feel at home, but there’s one person who just annoys you to no end. one person you’d love to just boot off a cliff – steve fucking harrington. ♥️ find the rest of the series and more here and find the series playlist on spotify here.

[crappymixtape]

among the stars • part three

PART I • PART II • PART III • PART IV • PART V • PART VI ❝ summer ended and everyone went back to school or to indianapolis for ‘real’ jobs – steve’s friends practically begged him to come to the city with them at the end of the summer, couch surf in their apartment until he finds work, but he decides to stay until one rainy night in october something happens – someone happens – and it changes the course of his life forever • 18+ | ( 3k, strangers to lovers, angst, fluff, smut, extraterrestrials, steve x reader )

H O P E L E S S F U L 🎶 earthing, vanbur

“I don’t know? Something about light years or–no, dumbass. Does it look like I watch Star Trek? Okay, okay. Sorry.”

Steve Harrington leaned against the wall of the room he’d deemed ‘the kitchen’, talking into a long, corded, communication device. There was a friend of his that might be able to help, one Dustin Henderson, but the way he was talking to him now didn’t sound very friendly at all.

The sun had risen and set twice since you’d crashed, the days here much shorter than home, and a sinking feeling had grown in the pit of your stomach.

At first you’d been encouraged by Steve’s blinding optimism, hopeful that maybe he’d be able to help you repair your comm link or at least sort through the crash to find something useful, but all your things had turned to ash and he barely knew how to adjust the settings on his own rudimentary time piece. Over the course of two short days your hope had dwindled.

Maybe you would never go home.

Glancing up at Steve, you caught him looking at the same time, and his cheeks flushed as he dropped his gaze, his voice lowering. Quiet.

“No, no. It’s fine. We’ll meet you over at Robin’s. Alright.” Hanging the corded device on its base, he gave you a flicker of a smile, his hand rubbing at the back of his neck, “Dustin says he might be able to help.”

You watched with wide, expectant eyes and his cheeks grew pink again.

“So–uh–we’re gonna meet up with him. See what we can figure out.”

“And who is Robin?” you asked, legs neatly tucked under you, sat with perfect posture in an old armchair.

“Oh, well–Robin’s my best friend.”

“Best friend?” your brow furrowed as you considered his words. “Is this like a life partner? One you procreate with?”

If Steve’s cheeks had looked red before, they were positively scarlet now.

“No–oh, Christ. No, I don’t have a–a life partner. Or kids–er–at least not my own kids,” he stumbled over his words, eyes glued to the floor as he walked toward the front entry. “C’mon, we should go.”

You stood from the chair, watching as he grew increasingly uncomfortable, your head tilted, considering him. “Have I offended you, Steve Harrington?”

He paused, hand on the door knob, and looked over his shoulder at you, a rough chuckle falling from his lips, “No, you haven’t offended me.” The expression on his face softened, warm amber eyes meeting yours, “You don’t have to use my full name. Just call me, Steve.”

“But isn’t that your name? Steve Harrington?”

Another laugh rumbled in his chest and your skin warmed at the sound.

“Well, yeah, but–“ his words melted into a hum of thought, and his hand fell away from the door as he turned to face you. “Here, why don’t you tell me your name?”

“I am Aerus-4,” pulling at the neck of your flight suit, you tugged it down to show the markings tattooed along your collarbone. Steve’s lips parted, but nothing came out. “Our titles are given at birth,” you explained, watching as slowly Steve closed his mouth, “The first is our planet and the second is our sector.”

“What do your friends call you?” he wondered and it was your turn to give him a look of confusion.

“Aerus-4,” you repeated.

Steve chuckled again and warmth bloomed in your chest, “We give each other nicknames here. Like shorter, better versions of the stupid names our parents give us.”

“Nicknames?”

“Yeah. Like, my full name is Steven Michael Harrington, but my friends call me Steve.”

“Just Steve,” you echoed, and he beamed, but it hit you quickly that you didn’t have a nickname because this place wasn’t home and you didn’t fit here. You didn’t want to be here.

The brilliant turquoise of your hair faded to a washed out grey.

“Oh,” Steve breathed, hand outstretched as he took a step forward.

“I am Aerus-4 and you are Steve. Just Steve,” you said, stepping around him toward the door, “And it would be disrespectful to keep your ‘best friend’ waiting.”

OH MY LIGHT TRIPS IS IT ON FIRE, IS IT COLD?

The method of transportation on Earth was archaic, you thought, as Steve navigated the way to Robin Buckley’s. There were no teleport stations and everything moved on wheels and required constant refueling. Basic public hovertram systems weren’t even available and it took forever to get from one side of Hawkins to the other.

Steve messed with a set of dials on his control panel the entire drive, making the sound coming from the comm system scratch and change between different people’s voices. You didn’t like any of it at first, but then he started singing along to the one he finally settled on, and it grew on you, soft and slow like a seed planted between your ribs.

“All my instincts, they return, and the grand facade, so soon will burn. Without a noise, without my pride, I reach out from the insiiide,” Steve sang softly under his breath along with the man on the other end. The sound was low and warm, settled in your ears and sent a zip of electricity through your limbs.

Clearing your throat, you shook your head as if to shake his voice from where it’d curled up at the back of your mind.

“Is this some kind of simultaneous comms transmission?” you asked, and it pulled Steve’s eyes from the road, brows pinched together in confusion.

“What, the radio?” he asked.

“Yes, the man on the other end is saying exactly what you’re saying.”

The corner of Steve’s mouth tugged up in a lopsided grin, “No, this is music. One of my favorites, actually. His name is Peter Gabriel.”

“This is music?” you asked incredulously, “This is nothing like music on Aesa.”

That made Steve laugh and you couldn’t help but smile, the sight squeezing dimples into Steve’s cheeks, and your skin grew warm again.

“To each their own,” Steve parried, then softened, “Smiling looks nice on you, should do it more.”

You dropped your gaze to your lap at the sudden attention, hair flushing a soft pink color as Steve bumped off the road and into the driveway of a small residence.

It was made of brick, moss clinging to the north side of the roof, and surrounded by a waist high, white, wooden fence. You weren’t sure what the point of it was, as it certainly wouldn’t do anything for protection, but a beep from the control panel pulled your attention back to the present.

“We’re here,” Steve nodded toward the small building and the door opened to reveal not only Best Friend Robin, but four others as well.

Your pulse quickened in your neck, your flight suit pinging a warning and sending red currents pulsing through the fabric.

“Are you–is something wrong?” Steve leaned in toward you, hand hovering at your forearm, expression curved in worry, and you shook your head.

“No. My suit needs to be serviced,” you lied, but he bought it and murmured a small sound of acknowledgement before climbing out and leaving you to panic.

“Oh my, god,” a taller girl with short, blonde hair gushed, hands clasped over her mouth. A shorter boy with twists of brown curls shoved her aside to get a better look and revealed another girl with brilliant orange hair, arms wrapped around a tall boy with rich, deep brown skin.

They were all talking over each other in an instant.

“…hair so pretty…”

“…they’re purple?”

“…not from here.”

Their words sent your hair racing through a shimmering rainbow of colors, unable to pinpoint what emotion squeezed tightly around you and freezing you to your seat until Steve appeared at your window.

“Hey,” he tapped at the glass and opened your door slowly, “It’s okay. They’re my friends. They’re here to help.”

You swallowed the uncertainty crawling up your throat, thoughts drifting to darker stories you’d heard back home. Stories of people from Tyr-9 being abducted and imprisoned on other planets. Subjected to experiments, research, torture…or worse.

A hand pressed into yours and you gasped at the sudden physical contact, eyes flicking down to find Steve’s thumb smoothing gently over the bump of your knuckles.

“Hey,” he said again, softer, and it pulled your eyes up to look into his. Bright, brilliant pools of amber, warm and gold like sunsets back home and the color of your hair melted into a deep gold. Calm. Ease.

Trust.

“I promise I won’t let anyone hurt you,” he said, and in that moment you didn’t know why, you had absolutely no reason to, but you believed him. Despite his lack of weapons and poorly made clothing, you knew he meant what he’d said.

“Okay,” you whispered, and let him lead you from the car and into the house.

OH MY HEART SLIPS DO I NEED YOU, LOVE?

Robin Buckley’s home was furnished much the same as Steve’s, she even had what looked like was a matching arm chair, just as old as his. It was modest, cozy and simple, and not threatening, but your instincts had your hand ready at your side, one quick reach away from your dagger.

Steve led to you a larger sofa and sat down next to you, recounting the storm and the crash to everyone while they lingered in front of you both, sitting or standing, andstaring. There was, of course, Robin Buckley, Dustin Henderson, the one who would help, Max Mayfield and her boyfriend Lucas Sinclair.

“–shoulder was injured. It looked really bad yesterday, but it seems to be healing fast. Like really fast.”

You turned to see Steve gesturing at the exposed swatch of skin at your shoulder where your suit had ripped, the gash nearly closed, and you quickly pulled your hair over it.

“Er-sorry,” Steve stuttered, and you let your gaze drop to your lap.

“Is there something wrong?” you asked quietly, and Steve quickly shook his head.

“No! No, you just…that cut on your shoulder looks like a scratch now and it’s only been a couple of days. It should’ve needed stitches.”

You looked up at the four sets of eyes studying you, your thigh pressed to Steve’s.

“We just mean you’re healing very fast. Faster than we do here on Earth,” Dustin added gently and you glanced over at Steve who gave you a small reassuring smile.

“And you don’t need to sit around in those old clothes,” Robin chimed in, the smile on her face warm and kind, “You can totally borrow a hoodie and some jeans or whatever you need. We look like we’re close to the same size.”

“Why didn’t I think of that?” Steve muttered and Dustin snorted.

“Because you have a one-track mind.”

“Watch it, Henderson.”

“What? You do.”

“He’s not wrong,” Max agreed with a shrug.

Steve folded his arms over his chest with a grumble, “Can we please just tell us what the hell we’re gonna do?”

“Right,” Dustin clapped his hands, and you jumped at the sudden sound, but Steve took your hand again.

It’s okay.

“Let’s start with what we know,” the boy pulled a large pad of paper into the room on an easel. “The ship isn’t functional anymore, so getting in and flying back isn’t an option,” he scratched a black mark over a line of writing and it made your stomach twist. “We also can’t repair it, I don’t even know where we’d get parts,” he added, scratching over the next line and it made your hair flicker between dark purple and navy blue. “But!” he added, pointing at the third line of writing, “Comms are definitely an option.”

“Comms?” Robin asked skeptically, hands planted on her hips.

“Yes. I’m sure your technology is more advanced than ours,” Dustin said looking at you, and the nod and eye roll you gave him back earned you a laugh. “Okay, much more advanced than ours,” he amended, and you couldn’t help a small smile, “But the basics still apply.”

Turning to the pad of paper he flipped to the next page to reveal a poorly drawn spire with discs and antenna's and a small control panel.

“I’m almost positive Cerebro II can get a signal out past the thermosphere, if not right into the exosphere.”

“In English, dickhead,” Steve grumbled and Dustin kept going, completely unbothered.

“It can send radio waves into space, which is the best chance we have of someone picking up our signal. It’d have to be rudimentary. You know, like, single words or phrases? But it’d be enough to get anyone within range’s attention.”

Your heart hammered against your ribcage at the thought of reaching the others from your party. Even if it was just coordinates they would be close enough to pinpoint your location and–

Bring you home.

“Can we go now?” you cut in, startling everyone and pulling their eyes to you, and your hair flushed pink again.

Dustin gave you a big, toothy smile, “If the sky’s are clear, we’ll go tonight.”

Steve’s fingers squeezed at yours before quickly letting go, tucking his hands into his lap and scooting away from you, taking his warmth with him.

“That’s perfect. Great–really great–we’ll be ready,” he said with a flicker of a smile, but you detected dishonesty from him. Why would he lie? But before you could give it another thought, the couch sunk down next to you when Robin filled his spot.

“C’mon, let’s get this gross thing off you,” she said, nose crinkling up at how dirty your flight suit was, covered in ash and burns and tears.

You immediately looked to Steve, help, and it pulled him out of his thoughts.

“Oh–yeah,” he added, standing with Robin, “I’ll be right outside the door, hm?”

Robin held a hand out to you and you gave Steve one more look, Is it safe? And he nodded gently, encouraging, and you took her hand as she eagerly pulled you down the hallway to her room, Steve hurrying to catch up.

YOU WERE BORN EARTHING, EARTHING.

She’d been right. You and Robin were almost the exact same size, just a touch shorter than she was. She and Steve had waited out in the hallway, giving your privacy to change, and as you stood looking at yourself in the mirror, you wondered how anyone did anything here with clothes like this.

Robin had given you a dark green hoodie and it fit well, as did her black pants and shoes, but you felt weird, uncomfortable, vulnerable to the elements. Your locks of hair had faded back to their usual turquoise, your purple skin in stark contrast with the green fabric running down your arms. When your eyes trailed down your legs, you shook your head – pants full of holes? What was the point?

Knock, knock, knock.

“Hey, you okay in there?” Steve’s voice came through the door and you opened it with a scowl on your lips, startling them both.

“Robin Buckley, your pants are full of holes,” you stated very seriously and she gave you a just as serious look back.

“That’s how they’re supposed to be.”

You both stared at each other for a long second, neither breaking face, and Steve’s eyes flicked back and forth between you.

“Oookay. Looks great! Thanks, Robs,” he said, slicing the awkward silence in half. Then, taking your hand, he tugged you back out to the front room only for you to find it empty.

“Has Dustin Henderson left already?” you asked, panic crawling up your throat. What if you missed it?

“No, no,” Steve assured you, “He took Max and Lucas up to Weathertop so they can run a few tests.”

“What is a Weathertop?”

“Oh, it’s the hill where he keeps Cerebro II.”

Your brain swirled, fuzzy, hazy.

Cerebro II. Weathertop. Robin Buckley. Earth. Dustin Henderson. Flying isn’t an option. Healed too fast. Purple skin and turquoise hair and not from here and–

“Whoa, hey, it’s okay–”

“No! It’s not, Steve Harrington!” you cut his words in two and he recoiled as your hair bled into a deep, bruising violet, “It’s not okay!” Your chest constricted, too tight as you struggled to pull air into your lungs. “I’m not okay, this is not okay. I’m never going to get home and I’m stuck on this planet where–where nothing makes sense and–”

“But–”

“–and I don’t have a–a nickname! And I’m not like you! Or your friends! It’s hopeless,” your voice cracked, tears stinging at the corners of your eyes.

“It’s not hopeless,” Steve said quietly, gently taking your chin between his fingers and tilting it up so that your eyes met his. “At least not yet,” he added earnestly.

Your tears welled against the line of your lashes and despite your efforts, you blinked and they spilled over, tracing slow tracks through the freckles chasing across your cheeks. You were determined, stoic, silent, unwavering and still and he was…everything you weren’t. Soft, but strong, brave, but vulnerable, steady, but willing to shift.

Sweeping your tears away with the pad of his thumb, Steve wiped them on his sleeve. “Can I give you a nickname?” he asked, and it pulled your gaze up again. Amber eyes. Pools of gold. Warm. Safe.

“But we’re not friends, Steve Harrington.”

“Sure we are,” he countered, then added softly, “How about Ru? Is it okay if I call you that?”

“Ru?” you echoed and he smiled.

“Yeah. Ru, short for Aerus.”

The corner of your mouth flickered and tugged up, the vice squeezing at your chest slowly spinning loose.

“Ru,” you said again, smiling, and Steve grinned.

“Nice to meet you, Ru. Friends?” he stuck his hand out to you and you took it.

“Friends.”

[ NOTE: THIS IS PART TWO OF A ??? PART SERIES – MORE TO COME SOON ]

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[crappymixtape]

among the stars ( pt. III ) • teaser

EDIT: FULL FIC HERE • PART I • PART II • ❝ SUMMER JUST ENDED and everyone’s gone back to school or to Indianapolis for ‘real’ jobs – steve’s friends practically begged him to come to the city with them, couch surf in their apartment until he finds work, but one rainy night in october something happens – someone happens – and it changes the course of his life forever • a strangers to lovers series // ( stranger things au without the upside down • ft. extraterrestrials )

“Oh my, god,” a taller girl with short, blonde hair gushed, hands clasped over her mouth. A shorter boy with twists of brown curls shoved her aside to get a better look and revealed another girl with brilliant orange hair, arms wrapped around a tall boy with rich, deep brown skin.

They were all talking over each other in an instant.

“…hair so pretty…”

“…they’re purple?”

“…not from here.”

The words sent your hair racing through a shimmering rainbow of colors, unable to pinpoint what emotion squeezed tightly around you and freezing you to your seat until Steve appeared at your window.

“Hey,” he opened your door slowly, “It’s okay. They’re my friends. They’re here to help.”

You swallowed the uncertainty crawling up your throat, thoughts drifting to darker stories you’d heard back home. Stories of people from Tyr-9 being abducted and imprisoned on other planets. Subjected to experiments, research, torture…or worse.

A hand pressed into yours and you gasped at the sudden physical contact, eyes flicking down to find Steve’s thumb smoothing gently over the bump of your knuckles.

“I promise,” he said, and in that moment you don’t know why, you had absolutely no reason to, but you believed him.

“Okay,” you whispered, and let him lead you from the car and into the house.

crappymixtape™ • steve harrington masterlist // stranger things masterlist ♥️ reblogs and comments keep me going, friends! ily! ♥️

[crappymixtape]

seriously, how tf am i supposed to recover after this??? how can i continue on??? 😩😩😩

VIDEO CREDIT: JENNIFER DENHAM ON IG

[crappymixtape]

MY 📸 FROM DJO’S ‘BACK ON YOU’ TOUR // PORTLAND, NIGHT 2

PLEASE DON’T REPOST WITHOUT CREDIT

DJO ‘BACK ON YOU’ TOUR — NIGHT 2 • PORTLAND, OR — 📸 PHOTO COLLECTION

[crappymixtape]

i fear i may ( will ) never recover 😩🫠 this show changed me on a cellular level — also got to meet and party with @superblysubpar and @curiositydooropened and it was ✨everythingggg✨

edit: see the rest of my videos at my b-sides journal @crappymixtape-bsides 🫶🏼

[crappymixtape]

Babe we’re are all struggling right now 😭😭😢

UGHHHH, i'm so sorry 😩 sending you big, big hugs sweet nonny <3333 things will get better!! xoxo

[crappymixtape]

I’M SEEING HIM FRIDAY OMFG 😩😩😩

[crappymixtape]

okay, but this one was actually so, so cute 😩

just listen

you’re so sick of seeing them, seeing her put her hands all over him at parties and can’t they just find a goddamn room? but then something happens and you have no idea how it's you who wound up in a room with him | ( 1.8k – all the angst with a sprinkle of fluff, friends to something? steve x you, steve x reader )

J U S T L I S T E N 🎶 there she goes, valley

The music at the party was so loud you couldn’t hear anything. Not even your own thoughts. Especially with the way Tommy was yelling about his third keg stand, but fuck if you could read her lips from across the room. The way she was looking up at him. All doe-eyed and shining and smiling and touching.

C’mon, please? she whined.

And then she pushed up onto her toes to put her mouth to the shell of his ear. Whispered. Her fingers spidering up his chest and moving to tangle in the curls at the nape of his neck. The ones you knew were so soft. The ones you wished you could run your hands through.

Steve.

And when he laughed you knew it was pulled from his lungs by whatever she’d said.

You think you’re cute, huh? you saw his lips form around the words and she giggled a little before fisting his shirt in her hand and pulling him down to press her lips to his.

Hers.

Not yours.

Hers all soft and pink and glossy.

Hers all over him at this party.

Hers all pressed against his car every time he gets off work and as they walk out of the diner and flickering in the light from the bonfires down at the quarry.

Hers as she lay draped next to his pool on a lounger in the summer heat, all lilacs and baby blues and blonde hair spun like gold. Like the sun. Like an actual fucking goddess and the way she held his attention – impossible to shatter.

You felt your chest squeeze. Felt your heart sink into your stomach. Wilting and aching, but you couldn’t pull your eyes from them. Couldn’t look away from how his hands slipped around her waist, the way her body fitted up against his perfectly and when they finally parted his eyes flicked up to meet yours.

Yours still there.

Still wanting.

Still looking.

Caught.

Bumping into everyone as you turned and shoved your way through the sea of people, you scrambled to find an out. Slipped on the bottom step of the staircase and climbed up and away from the party, music fading as you reached the landing. Your heart thudded heavy against your ribcage so loudly you swore you could hear it.

Swallowing thick, you tried the first door on your left only to find Jason Carver attached at the mouth to whatever flavor of the week he was on.

“Ugh, gross,” you huffed and slammed the door shut, Jason’s stupid laugh blunted behind it.

The next room you tried was smaller, but empty and quiet and just what you needed, so you fell inside and quietly shut the door behind you. Leaned your back against it and slid down to the floor. Sat in silence for a moment and wondered at what it would be like to know someone would come looking for you if you disappeared at a party.

Wondered what it would be like to have Steve Harrington stop mid-sentence because he couldn’t see you anymore. Because he cared. Wanted to check on you. Wanted to ask, Hey what’s wrong, baby? What can I do to help, baby?

Baby.

But the longer you sat the more the disappointment settled at the pit of your stomach. The more you realized it would never happen. The more you realized it would just be you alone in the black of the room and you felt tears burn at the corners of your eyes.

You should’ve left.

Pressing the palms of your hands to your eyes you sucked in a breath and held it, tried so hard to wrap up every stupid little feeling and shove it back down, but a knock at the door made you freeze.

A gasp stuck in your throat, you scrambled to your feet and stepped away from the door as though it were scalding hot.

Knock, knock, knock.

“Uh–” whoever it was cleared their throat and shuffled on their feet, their shadow playing at the bottom of the door, “–anybody in here?”

Oh, god. They probably wanted the bed.

“Yea–b–busy!” you blurted and then turned bright red at how it sounded, hands clasped over your mouth. A muffled chuckle sounded on the other side and slowly the doorknob turned.

“Can I come in?” asked so gently, carefully, words warm and soft like melted butter and your heart skipped a beat.

Steve.

Oh god, oh fuck, oh shit. What was he doing?

The door creaked on its hinges as he peered into the room, his silhouette all deep indigos and lush violets against the dim light of the hallway. Even there in the dark he was pretty.

“Can I come in?” he asked again and you shook yourself, blinked away the daze you were swimming in and nodded your head.

“Y-yeah, sure,” you stumbled over your words and felt your cheeks grow warm again, thankful he wouldn’t see.

Making his way into the room he left the door open just a crack, but closed enough that it still provided some privacy. Sat with a little sigh on the edge of the bed and ran his hands through his hair. Looked at you like you were a puzzle, small smile playing on his lips.

“How come you ran away?”

Your stomach dropped.

“Ran away?”

“Yeah. After I kissed Stacey.”

Because I wanted to kiss you. Because Stacey doesn’t deserve you. Because I hate it here.

“Hey, you work at Community Plate, right? And I’m pretty sure I’ve seen you in my Intro to Econ class…”

Wait, what? How did he–

“Yeah, but…you’ve literally never talked to me,” fell out and you knew you should’ve been embarrassed, but for some reason it didn’t matter anymore.

He laughed, a deep warm thing and your stomach flipped over.

“Sorry, I’m not good with words,” he poked fun at himself and scooted over on the bed, a silent invitation for you to sit next to him and you took it.

“Makes two of us,” you grumbled and he chuckled again, rested his hands on the tops of his thighs and took a sidelong glance at you.

“What if I told you I wanted to talk to you,” he said, a statement not a question, and your eyes flicked up to look at him.

“Bullshit.”

Another laugh, louder this time, kind of clumsy and goofy and it pulled a smile out of you.

“Not bullshit,” he reassured you, the word burning a bit around the edges as he was reminded of what Nancy had told him back in high school. “Stacey’s…” he started, but drifted off, thinking, “I dunno. Easy?”

“Wow.”

“Shit–not like that,” he scrambled quickly to correct himself, shifting on the bed uncomfortably. “I just mean easy like–” he waved a hand haphazardly in the air as though it would help him to gather up his words, “–fuck. She’s Stacey. She likes to go to shopping and get her nails done and watch soaps.” He loosed a sigh and roughed his hands over his face, deflated. Defeated. Not very Steve Harrington.

“Don’t you like that? It’s like…your type.”

“My type, yeah. Well. No one ever asks me.”

Quiet settled between you on the bed at his admission and you felt a tiny pinch of guilt between your ribs. Picked at the chipped nail polish on your fingers and bit at the inside of your cheek.

“Okay. What is your type?” you broke the silence, a little shy, a little bold, a little you and it made his brows lift in surprise.

“Shit–I dunno. Uh, eats pizza? And junk food. And doesn’t care if my friends are all a bunch of fuckin’ weirdos,” he laughed at his last requirement and you did too, but then he grew a bit more serious. Hummed in thought as if considering whether or not he wanted to set free the words sitting on his tongue. “Likes to go on drives with me. Doesn’t think swimming in the quarry is gross. Isn’t afraid to call me on my bullshit,” he looked over at you as soon as he stopped talking and waited. Watched to see your reaction. Wondered what you were thinking and you held his gaze, didn’t shy away.

“Don’t know if you know, but I just did that last thing,” you snarked and his nerves cracked, pushed a laugh from his lungs and he leaned back on his elbows.

“Thanks for that," he was only a little sarcastic, but then his smile softened as he looked at you. Really looked and you looked back.

Took each other in as you sat in the deep indigo shadows that fell across the room. Wondered how it was that Steve Harrington actually came looking for you. That he wasn't a gigantic douchebag. That he was just as pretty this close as he was from across the room.

Hair swept messy across his forehead, shirt with one button undone at the top, eyes dark in the low light, but still warm like amber and honey. Your chucks bumping against his Blazers, tight curls protesting against the hair tie you'd tangled them into, lips twisting as you tried to keep a straight face–

“This party sucks.”

Steve fell on his back and laughed, groaning into his hands as he covered his face with his hands.

“God, it sucks so hard.”

Then it was your turn to hum in thought, trying to work out what had just transpired between you and Steve Harrington. Trying to decide if it was worth one more little risk. Trying to decide if maybe just maybe–

“Wanna go for a drive?” your voice was steadier than before, but wavered a little as he pushed back up onto his hands.

“A drive?”

“Yeah. Pizza or something,” you joked, poking at him from earlier and he gave you a tentative smile.

“Pizza. Or something.”

“Or whatever? I dunno, forget it,” you felt yourself fold quicker than you'd wanted and stood from the bed, cheeks flushed and hot and embarrassed and ready to leave, but he caught your hand and pulled you back.

“Wait–where are you going?”

You didn’t know.

“Don’t run away again,” he was soft. Warm and genuine and it made you turn around, "Please?"

He was standing with you now, your hand still held tight in his, the callouses on the pads of his fingers rough on your skin. You could hear your heart in your ears again and you thought maybe you could hear his too.

“I do. Wanna go for a drive.”

“What about Stacey?”

“She’s not my type.”

You felt something swell in your chest, bright and blooming like wildflowers in a field and it made you smile. Made you feel stupid. Made you feel hopeful and as he looked down Steve gave you the same stupid smile right back.

“I don’t have a car,” you admitted and he scoffed.

“Oh. I got you covered,” and he pulled his keys from his pocket, tried to twirl them around his finger and dropped them almost immediately. You stifled a laugh and snorted instead and he let out a strangled sound as he bent over to grab them, “Alright, I’m not smooth. Spoiler alert.”

“I’m learning so much,” you teased and he crammed his keys back into his pocket, giving you a lopsided grin.

“I don’t like pineapple on my pizza either,” he joked lamely and you tried to laugh, but it stuck in your throat as he took your hand again, a little tentative, a little confident.

“You know, on second though, can we get it to go?” you asked and his mouth dropped into a little ‘o’.

“Uh–ye-yeah. Totally. Definitely.”

“Cool, there’s a bluff just outside of town where you can see–”

“–I know exactly where that is. My buddy Dustin has a–uh, never mind,” his cheeks flushed a little as he pulled you both back into the sliver of light from the hallway. “I’ll explain on the way,” and with that he led you back down the stairs. Wove you expertly through the sea of people and out the door without a backward glance.

As you climbed into his BMW you wondered what else you'd learn about Steve Harrington tonight. But mostly you wondered if maybe, you might just be his type.

crappymixtape™ • steve harrington masterlist // stranger things masterlist ♥️ reblogs and comments keep me going, friends! ily! ♥️

[crappymixtape]

third draft 😵‍💫 this shit hits different when you print it ✨ sitting at 60,000 words with like 5 chapters and some edits to go. almost, almost, almost 🙏🏼

[crappymixtape]

among the stars • part two

PART I • PART II • PART III • PART IV • PART V • PART VI ❝ summer ended and everyone went back to school or to indianapolis for ‘real’ jobs – steve’s friends practically begged him to come to the city with them at the end of the summer, couch surf in their apartment until he finds work, but he decides to stay until one rainy night in october something happens – someone happens – and it changes the course of his life forever • 18+ | ( 1.6k, strangers to lovers, angst, fluff, smut, extraterrestrials, steve x reader )

L O S T 🎶 my tears are becoming a sea, M83

“Give us your coordinates!”

“I–I can’t read them! The nav got destroyed by the asteroid impact–”

“Can you warp back?”

“No, it–I can’t do anything, there are high levels of damage to the hull, what if I crash–”

“Focus! Is your landing gear functional?”

“Y-yes, no reported damage.”

“Then identify an area with enough clearance to put down and we’ll send out a search party.”

“But, what if you can’t find me? The satellite–”

“All you need to do is land, pilot!”

“Visibility extremely low, landing gear stuck on activation, left thruster not functional–I’m going to crash! Mayday–”

“Mayday!”

Your eyes shot open, heart hammering against your ribcage as you gasped for breath, hands balling up in the fabric pooled around you and bracing for impact, but when the world finally came into focus the interior of your ship was gone. Replaced instead by a strange looking room. Who’s, you didn’t know, but it was nothing close to home.

Odd looking trinkets sat upon a small table next to you and tons of flat, static photos of the same group of people covered the walls. There was a rudimentary desk and chair with a large, severely outdated monitor of some kind sitting atop it with a wooden chest of drawers just to its right. The bed you were in was highly uncomfortable and had no sign of climate adjustment or cleaning settings.

Looking down you saw you were still in your flight suit, the health monitors all steadily pulsing green and reporting stable vitals, though a small series of beeps alerted you that your heart rate was high. Bright light shone in from the window at your left and your eyes narrowed in sensitivity, where were your flight goggles?

“What’s wrong? What happened??”

The door flew open and your hand immediately went to the holster on your thigh, but it was empty, your phaser gone. Checking the other leg you realized your flash pods were missing too. Defenseless.

“Are you okay? Can I get you anything?”

Your eyes darted back up to the intruder, his expression concerned, and for a split second you considered him, fight or flight? And better judgement told you to fight. Sliding off the opposite side of the bed, you slipped a hand down into the pocket on your calf and produced a small dagger, holding it between you and the stranger.

“Whoa–okay, okay,” he put his hands up in a very submissive nature and you lowered the dagger slightly. “I’m Steve, remember? Last night, right?” he pointed a finger toward the window. “There was a huge storm and you crashed. I’m sorry I had to move you, I couldn’t leave you out there.”

A slow realization washed over you and you risked a glance out the window: your ship, charred and in pieces, in a crater in the dirt, still smoldering and smoking in the early light.

It wasn’t salvageable.

“Is there anyone I can call for you?” Steve asked and your throat squeezed.

Is there anyone I can call for you?

No.

This wasn’t home.

You didn’t know anyone.

A completely foreign planet.

Swallowing thickly you turned back to him and held the dagger up with renewed vigor.

“No, no one,” you snapped, “Where am I? Who are you?” You emphasized your questions with the small weapon in your hand and Steve took a step back toward the door.

“It’s okay! You’re in Hawkins, I’m Steve. Steve Harrington.”

“What is Hawkins? Who is your leader? Where’s the nearest Star Base?”

Steve’s mouth dropped open into a little ‘o’, his brows pinching together as he shook his head slowly. “There’s no Star Base here…is that like a–a Trekkie reference or something? We could ask Dustin I guess…”

“Dustin?”

“Nothing–uhm–our leader is President Bush, but are you from Canada? Can’t really hear an accent.”

President Bush? Canada? Your head was spinning. No Star Base, that he knew of, and his clothing was hardly protective. It was becoming more and more obvious that perhaps maybe he wasn’t the best person to be asking these things.

Determining he wasn’t a threat, you sheathed your dagger and moved around the bed toward the door, Steve jumping out your way to let you into the hallway.

“Wait–you’re leaving? We should really get your shoulder looked at, it was pretty bad last night.”

“My shoulder is fine.”

“There was a lot of blood, I cleaned you up the best I could, but I think you might need stitches.”

“I can do that myself,” you said, thinking of the med kit on your ship before realizing it must be ashes now.

“Yourself? Listen–I know you don’t think I’m helpful or–or whatever, but if you can just tell me where you’re from, maybe I can at least get you to a phone.”

Steve had jogged after you into what looked to be a food preparation area. There was a mountain of dishes in the sink and a large empty cardboard box with grease stains on the table. Turning to look at him, you stifled a gasp at how much closer he was. Not on the other side of the room or paces behind you in the hallway, but just a couple steps away.

In this light you could see all of his little details. Tiny freckles across his cheeks, not dissimilar to yours, and dark moles dotting down his jawline and neck. His eyes were striking, a rich, warm, honeyed color, nothing like anyone at home, and he was so much taller up close. Your eyes caught on a rather nasty looking cut across his cheek and your fingers twitched, wanting to touch. To help. To heal.

No, you can’t trust him.

“I promise I’m not going to hurt you…” he said, his voice low and soft, a sound that made your brain go hazy.

“I–” you started, hesitant, “I left Oso 36…on Stardate 41153.7. My nav broke, but the last reading said four light-years away from my home base.”

Steve’s expression went blank, merely blinking his eyes at you, the long sweep of his lashes brushing the tops of his cheeks.

“I’m sorry,” he chuckled, “What’s an Oso 36? Light-years? Are you part of some…acting troupe? Or a promo for that movie with the little bears? Star Wars?”

“Acting?” you scoffed, shaking your head at your stupidity. He didn’t know anything. Pushing past him toward the door, you tapped at the comm link on your wrist – broken. “Take me to this Bush man, I need to ask him to find me passage home."

“What–I can’t just take you to see the president,” Steve said, right behind you again.

Wheeling around, anger swelled within you, frustration lighting you up and turning your hair a bright, burning red as it spun up to float around your head in long, reaching strands. “Then take me to someone who can!” you shouted, chest heaving with the exertion.

“Jesus!” Steve stumbled backward into the wall, tripping and falling back onto his elbows. “I’m sorry! I’m sorry,” he stuttered, fear flickering in his hazel eyes and the red in your hair faded back to muddled blues and greens, floating back down to settle at your shoulders.

“I–” you started, taking a step back from him, unsettled at the way he’d look at you like you were a monster, “I have to go.”

“Wait!”

You heard Steve call after you as you ran down the stairs and into the field behind the building, but as soon as you reached the tree line, panic began to spider through your veins. A cold, striking reality that you were so, so far away from home without any way to escape on an absolutely bleak planet you knew nothing about.

“Please–if you just–” Steve huffed as he jogged up behind you, “Christ–you’re fast.”

Frozen in place you watched as tiny plumes of smoke lifted from what was left of your ship, your chair in the cockpit a glowing pile of embers.

“If you just let me, I want to help,” Steve said again, out of breath. “At least let me try?” he asked.

Tears welled up against your lashes, spilling over and down your shimmering lilac cheeks. What if you could never leave?

“Please,” Steve asked softly, as his fingers gently brushed against yours, “I want to help.”

Looking over your shoulder at him, you didn’t hide your devastation, your hair deepening into a dark, bruising indigo.

“You can’t,” you said simply and he gave you the smallest of smiles in return, his thumb brushing over the bumps of your knuckles.

“I’m used to people underestimating me. The worst that can happen is I fail, but I’d say those odds are worth a try.”

Swiping at the tears on your cheeks you studied him for a long moment. This Steve Harrington. A stubbornly optimistic, self-depreciating, amber-eyed stranger who’d managed to start melting your skepticism with the unlikeliest of weapons: a smile.

“I still don’t trust you, Steve Harrington,” you muttered and it pulled a laugh from him.

“I don’t blame you,” he said, smile stretching into a lopsided grin. “But thanks for giving me a chance.”

Biting back the smile threatening to tug up at the corners of your lips you looked back off at the horizon. "Is that your sun?" you asked as it rose higher and higher into the sky.

"My sun? Uh–yeah. Yeah, that's the sun."

"We have three back home."

"Wha–three?" he half-scoffed, half-gaped.

"I'm not from this planet, Steve Harrington," you said softly, turning to look at him, his smile lost to utter confusion, "I'm lost. Help me find my way home."

[ NOTE: THIS IS PART TWO OF A ??? PART SERIES – MORE TO COME SOON ]

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