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crying-caro · 2 years

Text

AAAH SO SO GOOD

Invisible String

steve harrington x fem!reader

summary: steve has known you nearly all his life—you’ve been attached at the hip from day one. although falling in love may not have seemed inevitable to the two of you, it definitely was to everyone else.

prompt: can you write a request where steve and his girlfriend are childhood friends to lovers so they reminisce about what cute things the other did when they were kids that fueled their crush?

word count: 4.2k

trope: childhood friends to lovers, memories made in the rain

warnings: swearing, mentions of underage drinking, mutual pining, mild angst but mostly pure fluff, kind of a fix it fic, reader has cherry lip gloss, steve being an adorable child

a/n: @gloryofroses19 sorry this request took me so long to finish! i just moved back to college this week so i’ve been writing here and there where i can, but i hope you enjoy it! hopefully i did it justice.

It was a rainy day the first time you met Steve Harrington.

You were just eight years old, the walls of the new house towering and wallpapered, unfamiliar and daunting. Your family had moved to Hawkins a couple short months ago, and you hadn’t been too happy about it. Leaving all your friends behind had been hard, and with school out for a couple more months, you were feeling more than a little lonely.

A summer rainstorm had picked up this particular afternoon, drops drumming rhythmically as you gazed out the window at the rows and rows of carefully manicured lawns and white picket fences. It was shaping up to be another perfectly boring day.

That is, until you saw him.

You squinted out of the window, breath fogging up the glass as you peered out into the street. You almost couldn’t believe what you were seeing. There in the downpour was a pair of blue overalls, yellow rain boots, and a head of the messiest hair you’d ever seen.

A… boy?

To this day, you still don’t know what possessed you to fling open your front door, leaning over the safety of your porch railing to gawk at him.

“Hey! What are you doing out in the rain?!”

“Finding worms!” The boy looked up at you with a triumphant gap-toothed grin, something pink and wriggling in his fist. “You should try it, s’a lot of fun!”

“Aren’t you cold?!”

“No!” He sounded indignant, like your question was the least likely outcome to ever exist. “I’ve never seen you before! What’s your name?!”

You shouted your name across the lawn, and suddenly the gap-toothed smile was back. “That’s a pretty name! Do you wanna come out and play with me?!”

“But you haven’t told me your name!”

“It’s Steve! Steve Harrington!”

“Well I think you’re an idiot, Steve Harrington!” Maybe it wasn’t very nice, but you couldn’t fathom why he’d want to be soaked to the bone, out in the rain by himself.

He didn’t seem to take it to heart. “Don’t knock it til you try it! Pleeeease?“

“Why should I?”

“Because… because if you don’t, you’re a prissy little princess!”

You opened your mouth in shock, too indignant to speak for a moment. “I am not!”

“Then why don’t you prove it, Princess?”

The taunt was there, but you could tell the name wasn’t meant to be mean-spirited. You sigh, take a deep breath, half-punctuated by a nervous laugh. “Okay, okay, fine! Here goes.”

Holding your breath, you step off the safety of the front porch, instantly feeling your clothes get drenched.

You found you didn’t care, at least not really.

It’s incredibly vivid, the way you remember playing outside with Steve for hours that day—jumping in puddles, chasing after frogs, getting muddier than either of your mothers would approve of—long after the afternoon thunderstorm had ceased to a harmless evening drizzle. The sunset had broken through the clouds as you chased each other around his dewy yard, painting a rainbow across the once-gloomy sky.

After a long while, you both sat on Steve’s porch, giggling and out of breath. You remember being so excited to learn you would both be in Mrs. Thompson’s class at Hawkins Elementary. You remember the way his eyes shone as you swapped stories, dreams, and favorite slushy flavors (“Nuh-uh, blue raspberry is way better!”)

Most of all, though, you remember his blue overalls, his yellow rain boots, and his slightly cheeky gap-toothed smile as he asked, “So… still think I’m an idiot, Princess?”

You let out a very undignified snort, elbowing him good-naturedly in the side. “Just a little bit, Harrington. Our parents might actually kill us, but… I had a lot of fun.”

Somehow, his smile got even wider. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“Me too.”

At that moment, Steve’s mother swung the screen door open, lips pursed, arms crossed, the perfect picture of displeasure at the sight of how messy you both were. “Steven Harrington. Get inside. Now.”

Steve looked like he wanted to protest, but thought better of it, instead offering you the tiniest smile. “I’ll call you tomorrow?”

You knew this meant he’d probably be grounded. You mirrored his apologetic expression, stepping forward for a quick hug. “Okay. G’night, Stevie.”

It might have been the light. It might have been the embarrassment from his mother’s sudden reprimanding. It could have been a lot of things, but for a moment as you pulled back, you could have sworn you saw him blush.

“G’night, Princess,” you heard him mumble, and with that you were left alone on the front porch.

You had made a friend. Warmth bloomed quietly in your chest as your mother ushered you hurriedly inside, scolding you with a voice laced with exasperation and concern. Maybe Steve had been right, though. Despite how soaked you were, you didn’t feel cold at all.

Of course, you’d both developed nasty colds the next day. Even that didn’t stop him from wanting to talk to you as promised—your mother overheard you giggling into the receiver for most of the day, listening as he complained and cracked jokes through sniffles and sneezes.

After all this time, you still gave him crap for making you go out in the rain with him, even though he insists he “didn’t make you do anything”.

Looking back at it, though, you wouldn’t change a thing.

Steve’s favorite memory of you was a bit different.

It was May, and he’d just turned sixteen. You were getting ready to go to Tammy Thompson’s birthday party. He was up in your room with you, like most evenings, blasting Blondie’s newest hit from your record player.

It was your way of rebelling against your mother, Steve noticed, who had very loudly told you there were to be no shut doors in her house when a boy was over. You had just rolled your eyes at her. “It’s just Steve, mom!”

Over the past several years, Steve had become a part of your family. He knew your mom adored him. It was evident in the way she spoke with him, invited him over for dinner or gave him soft, lingering hugs she knew he needed.

But it was May, he’d just turned sixteen, and she knew better than anyone that you’d both grown up since your first meeting.

Steve, in particular, had shot up like a weed, his arms and shoulders filling out ever so slightly. His voice dropped a good octave or so, and you still managed to give him plenty of shit whenever it squeaked or cracked. Gone were his days of missing baby teeth and wild, messy hair (and he made sure you were the only one who knew about the magic behind Farrah Fawcett spray).

And you—well, you’d become something else. Steve couldn’t remember when exactly you’d gotten so—

“How do I look?”

He turned toward the sound of your voice, about to tease you about taking so long, but whatever he had been about to say died in his throat.

—beautiful.

The dress you were wearing brought out your eyes and emphasized the curve of your waist. The sleeves were ever so slightly puffy, and as he took in the swoop of your hair and the gentle curl of your eyelashes, he found himself at an utter loss for words.

“Hello? Earth to Steve?” You waved your hand in front of his face. “Ugh, is there something in my teeth? Does the dress look that bad? I knew this wasn’t a good color on me—”

“Hey, that’s not it at all,” Steve cut in, trying not to appear as flustered as he felt. “Quit putting words in my mouth, dummy. You look… like a princess, Princess.”

“You could have just lead with that, idiot,” you mumbled, but you were smiling, the gloss on your lips catching Steve’s attention. He found himself wondering what it would be like to—

No. No no no. You were his childhood best friend, for Christ’s sake, and friends didn’t imagine what other friends’ lipgloss might taste like.

“Can’t let your head inflate too much,” he teased. “You might get a boyfriend and forget I exist.”

“Oh, please,” you scoffed, spritzing on perfume, “even if that did happen, you can’t hog all my attention, Harrington.”

I wish I could.

“Are you ready to go yet? I swear, girls take five million years to get ready—”

“Shut it or I’ll tell everyone at the party your hair secrets.”

“You wouldn’t!”

“Oh, I would.” You grab his hand to help him up. “Let’s go!”

…

You'd only shown up half an hour ago, and Steve could tell you already hated this party.

To be fair, as parties went, he wasn’t having the best time either.

Everyone was clustered in Tammy’s dark basement, a flask of something was being passed around, and to top it all off, every girl in the immediate vicinity had their eyes on him. Whispers and giggles were traded behind carefully manicured hands, and Steve couldn’t help but smile as he observed a hint of a scowl come over your face.

Unfortunately, things took a turn for the worse when Tammy decided on a game. “Let’s play spin the bottle!”

Steve would find out later that both of you wanted to go home right then and there. Stomach in knots as he shot a glance at you, he cautiously went to sit by your side.

Tammy grabbed his arm. “Stevie! You have to go sit with the boys, silly. You gotta give some of the other girls a chance, you know,” she simpered, batting her eyelashes.

Steve had never had a particular problem with Tammy Thompson, but right now she was working his last nerve. He settled for shooting her a tight-lipped smile and pulling his arm from her grasp. “Yep, got it. Thanks.”

The moment her back was turned he met your eyes, making an exaggerated gagging motion. His stomach twisted further as you erupted in silent laughter. Fuck, it was unfair how pretty you were.

Two circles were slowly formed, and the game commenced.

Years later, Steve still remembered how wildly his heart was thumping in his chest. You periodically exchanged glances with him, but as he surveyed the group of girls, he found his eyes returning to you again and again.

The empty coke bottle Tammy had chosen suddenly spun to a stop—pointed at him. He looked at you, wider-eyed than a deer caught in the headlights. He felt his hands began to sweat, and he had to wipe them against his jeans. The girls’ side was suddenly a wild flutter of activity.

Yep, he was definitely fucked.

Tammy reached out and spun the bottle again, time seeming to slow as he saw your eyes dart from the bottle to him. He had no idea what you were thinking. For the first time he wondered how he could kiss a girl that wasn’t—

“Oh, shit! It’s King Steve and the princess!”

—You.

The room erupted into chaos, and for a moment Steve just sat there dumbly. For what seemed like the first time in his life, he couldn’t read your expression as the other partygoers circled around you, cheering you on.

“Kiss! Kiss! Kiss!”

He watched as you hesitantly scooted in his direction, forcing yourself to look up at him.

“We don’t have to do this,” he blurted out before he could stop himself. “Say the word and we can go back to your house instead. Or literally anywhere else.”

Why, then, did something in him hope you wouldn’t listen?

He was surprised to look in your eyes and find a light, a spark that burned so brightly they practically glowed in the dark. “I…” you hesitated for a second, biting your lip in a way that made Steve want to come even closer.

Turns out, he didn’t have to.

After a second or two more, you took his face in your hands, closing the gap and urgently pressing your lips to his.

Steve practically melted into a puddle, and it was all he could do to keep himself upright. Obviously, he wasn’t completely inexperienced when it came to kissing—after all, he’d told you about the few awkward fumblings under the bleachers or in the school locker rooms—but he was absolutely sure that he’d never felt anything like this.

Your lips were soft, warm against his, and—cherries. He didn't have to wonder about that anymore. Your lipgloss tasted of cherries. He could smell the perfume you’d put on earlier, and something sweet, something entirely unique to you. Something about this—kissing you—felt so natural, so right to him, like he should have been all this time.

He was left in a daze as you pulled back, but his reverie was short-lived as he watched you turn and push past the other partygoers, running out of the basement.

“Princess—wait!”

He was up on his feet in an instant, taking off after you. He was up the stairs out onto the porch in a matter of seconds, Tammy’s screen door slamming shut behind him.

…

At some point during the party, the heavens had opened up above Hawkins. The torrential downpour was at once mesmerizing and terrifying, water running in rivulets down the street. Steve figured you couldn’t have gone far in a party dress while soaked to the bone.

Turns out, after eight years he knew you pretty well.

He found you in the treehouse you’d built in your backyard together one summer, all scattered nails, wooden planks, and blue raspberry slushies. You were both getting a bit too tall for it now, but it still held his weight as he climbed up.

The first thing he caught sight of was your dress, absolutely drenched. Your hair was wet and tangled, and you were curled up in a ball, face hidden, shoulders shaking. Steve couldn’t tell if you were shivering or crying, but either way the sight of this side of you was a painful squeeze to his heart. “Hey… you okay? You ran off there pretty suddenly—”

“Go away, Steve,” you’d managed to hiccup. You’d definitely been crying, then. Steve resisted the urge to reach out for you, instead settling for a position on your other side, knees bunched up in a way that normally would have looked hilarious.

“I’m not going anywhere. Tell me what’s wrong.”

You’d dared to tilt your head up enough to meet his eyes. “What’s wrong is I ruined everything, Steve. You’re supposed to be my best friend, and I kissed you. You probably hate me, and you never want to speak to me again and—”

“Hey, hey. None of that,” Steve murmured, reaching out to wipe your cheek despite himself. “You didn’t ruin anything. I’m still your best friend, and it’s going to take a hell of a lot more than a kiss to get rid of me. Pinky promises to be friends forever are binding contracts, I’ll have you know,” he added, relief washing over him as the smallest twitch of a smile appeared at your lips.

“You could never do anything to make me hate you. I mean—I know you better than anyone. I’ll never forget that day you came out on the front porch and yelled at me for being an idiot. That was all you had to do for me to know I needed you in my life. I knew I’d end up caring about you more than anyone or anything. And I still do now.”

He’d swallowed carefully, raking a hand through his damp hair. “And hey, if it helps… you never have to kiss me again. Since, you know, apparently it sucked so bad that you decided to run away.”

“Hey, shut up. You weren’t bad,” you’d chuckled, elbowing him gently, but your worryingly dull eyes had grown a little brighter. There’s my girl, Steve couldn’t help but think.

“That was sort of the problem, actually." you continued, thinking out loud. "I kind of got lost in the moment, but I snapped out of it and freaked out because I remembered it was you I was kissing and I just... didn’t wanna fuck things up, because you mean a lot to me. You were the first person who ever made me feel like I belonged in Hawkins, and I don’t think I could stand it if I lost you over something as stupid as spin the bottle.”

You glanced away from Steve, looking like you were building up the courage to say something more. “And, for what it’s worth, I… enjoyed kissing you. A lot.”

It was all Steve could do to look at you, hope and disbelief clashing in his mind. “You… you did?”

“Yeah.”

You smiled, a real smile this time, and Steve thought it might have been the most radiant thing he’d ever seen. “And I think I want to do it again.”

That was all Steve needed to hear before he closed the space between you once more, his lips soft and gentle on yours but always, always wanting. He kissed you like he’d never get to kiss you again, like he was starving for you, burning your taste, your touch into his memory. His hands came to rest behind your back as the rain fell harder outside, but at this moment he knew nothing but bliss, your treehouse a quiet sanctuary from the storm.

It was with reluctance that you finally came up for air, foreheads touching and giddy smiles on both of your faces.

"If I'd known that this was how your first high school party was gonna go, I would have dragged you to one a lot sooner," Steve remarked, and your beautiful, slightly wild laugh was music to his ears.

"I'd've let you drag me to one sooner, I think. So..." you trailed off, looking a little embarrassed. "What does this... mean?"

"What does—oh. Oh." He hadn't really thought about that yet. He was on the threshold of something with you, he realized, something new and exciting and utterly terrifying. But for you, he would take any risk.

"I'd love for us to be more than friends. Obviously, I'll still be your friend, but..." he took your hand in his, impossibly warm despite the chill from outside. "The thing is, I like this. I like you. Just promise me we'll still be friends no matter what happens."

"I promise." There was no hesitation from you now. "No matter what happens, I'm not going anywhere. Not now, not ever. To be honest, this kind of scares the shit outta me, but... I'd love for us to give this a shot."

Steve felt as if his heart might burst, and he pulled you close to his chest, planting a gentle kiss on your head. "As long as it's with you, there's nothing I'd want more, Princess."

Despite the warmth emanating from him, he still felt it when you shivered against him. "Except getting you somewhere warm. C'mon, let's get inside before you freeze to death."

You merely chuckled, rolling your eyes at him. "M'not cold, Stevie. But fine, if you insist." He regretted saying anything when you pushed yourself up off of him, but he knew it was probably for the best.

"Well, I can't exactly risk my new girlfriend getting hypothermia on me," he quipped, heading down the ladder and extending a hand up to help you.

"I didn't realize my new boyfriend was such a mom," you teased as you took his hand, but despite everything feeling somewhat normal again, Steve's face flushed at that word. Boyfriend. He was going to have to get used to that.

"Yeah, yeah, that's Mama Steve to you. If we go inside now, I'll let you pick the movie tonight."

"Deal."

Steve's arm was slung over your shoulder as you headed into the comforting warmth house, the rain finally subsiding to a soft mist.

As many wonderful memories as you and Steve have made together since then, this one might be your new favorite.

It’s a warm, cloudy June night. Hopper and Joyce finally decided on a small backyard wedding a few months ago, and it’s a much-needed celebration after everything your little town of Hawkins has been through.

As you gaze at the colorful string lights lining the party, watching Hopper twirl a laughing Joyce during their first dance, you can’t help but think about lucky you are. Vecna was finally dead. Eddie’s name, after a lot of convincing, had finally been cleared, thanks to Hopper being reinstated as chief of police. Max, although she wasn’t able to be here, had finally woken up a few days ago and was recovering in the hospital.

It’s an utter miracle you all survived, after the sheer number of near-death experiences you'd all had over the last few years. At this point, you’d bandaged Steve’s wounds more times than you could count. But you're so, so grateful everyone you love is alive and well.

You know Steve’s still healing from the bat attack in the upside down, but tonight he’s practically shining in a groomsmen’s tux, hair coiffed to perfection in usual Steve fashion.

For formality’s sake, you’re on the bridal party’s side with the other bridesmaids until the first dance is over, but somehow your boyfriend senses your staring and grins, shooting you a wink that’s borderline indecent.

You have to stifle a giggle when you notice Dustin elbow him in the side and mouth “gross”, although there’s no real venom behind it. You know how much the kids look up to both of you.

There’s a smattering of cheers and applause as the first dance concludes and Hopper spontaneously dips Joyce for a kiss. You make sure to give Eleven a little side hug when she wrinkles her nose at the sight. “Don’t worry, kid. You’ll get used to it.”

“It feels like revenge for me and Mike,” she grumbles, but you know she’s just as happy to see her two adoptive parents together as the rest of you are.

Eventually, more people start to trickle onto the green to dance, and Eleven squeezes your hand before running off to dance with Mike, who looks a little disgruntled to be pulled out of his conversation with Will.

You slowly saunter over to Steve, a little smile on your face. “Hey there, handsome. Want to dance with me?”

You always relish in the way Steve blushes at your compliments. “You’re killing me over here. Who said you could get all dolled up and flirt with me? You look so damn good; I might have a heart attack before I can get you on the floor.”

“I said I could, babe,” you chuckle, rolling your eyes. “Such a dramatic. Now, are you coming or are you just gonna stand there and gawk at me?”

He laughs, taking your hand and pressing a kiss to the back of it. “Of course, pretty girl. I’d love to dance with you.”

You make sure to stick your tongue out at Lucas and Dustin over Steve’s shoulder, the former miming kissing the air and the latter making an unflattering gagging noise.

Steve leads you out into the grass with the other dancers, one hand in yours and the other on your waist, gently swaying to the beat. It’s a slow song, tranquil and romantic, and you can’t help but think there’s nowhere else you’d rather be.

“Whatcha thinking about, Princess?” Steve whispers in your ear.

“Just… how happy I am that I’m here. That I've got the kids, and Robin, and Eddie, and you. I kind of owe that to you,” you murmur back. Maybe it’s a bit schmaltzy, a bit hopeless romantic of you, but with Steve it’s all too easy to be that way, even after nearly four years together.

“What do you mean? You're the one who barged into my life if I remember correctly, little miss I-think-you’re-an-idiot-Steve-Harrington.”

“That’s a mouthful,” you giggle, “and still true, by the way. But you’re my idiot.”

Steve’s trying to find a clever retort when thunder rolls across the sky, impossibly loud and far too close. That’s all the warning the wedding party gets before the clouds open up, first a shower, then a drizzle.

Everyone else scrambles for cover, hiding under the white tents that have been hastily set up, or making a beeline for the Byers-Hopper house.

You and Steve, however, stand there incredulously, his perfect hair and suit now soaked. Your dress and shoes aren’t faring much better, and you know if you stay out here, you’ll be ankle-deep in mud.

All that it takes is for the two of you to make eye contact before you’re both laughing hysterically, clutching each other for support so you don’t slip and fall in the wet grass. You’re sure that, to the rest of the wedding party, you must look insane right now, but you don’t think you could care any less.

“Always the rain,” Steve gasps, out of breath, grinning so much it looks like his cheeks must hurt. “Always the goddamn rain.”

“I don’t know about you, but right now I’ve got some serious deja vu,” you agree, your arms around his neck as you catch your breath. “So... should we cut to the chase this time? Any more pressing secrets that need to come out?”

Steve's mind immediately jumps to the dresser in his room, in which there is currently a small black box—the perfect size and place for a ring. “Can I tell you later? I promise it’s just one more secret.”

“Aw, you’re no fun,” you groan, but you press a kiss to his lips anyway because there’s something about him in the rain that’s just so goddamn pretty. “Tell me tomorrow?”

“We’ll see,” Steve chuckles, hands on your waist as he presses a kiss to your forehead. “For now… keep dancing with me?”

“You’re lucky I love you,” you reply as he spins you around, your soaked skirt flinging droplets in all directions. “I wouldn’t come out in the rain for anyone else.”

“I know.” Steve brings you back towards him and dips you, and for the millionth time you thank your lucky stars you found your best friend and your soulmate in one person. “There’s no one else I’d rather coerce out into the rain with me.”

“Just say it back, dingus.”

“I love you too.”

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