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nicolewritesthings · 3 months ago

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Lost Love

Summary: After moving to the same city, you and Steve quickly fall back into an easy friendship, but will it stay that way?

Can be read as a stand alone friends to lovers piece or as the final part of the Lost Love series. Either way, get ready for some serious situationship feels. 13k words (buckle up)

Steve Harrington x fem!reader, a lil smutty, a lil angsty, a lil fluffy

a/n: I had way too much fun writing this. Clearly this is one of my favorite tropes because I totally pull from some of my fave movies. I've had a great time writing this and an even greater time interacting with all of you!!! thank you all for reading my work. There will be more to come :)

June 1992 All the windows in Steve and Robin's apartment are wide open. Two metal fans worked overtime to flow in whatever cool breeze Chicago could offer this summer. You and Steve are glued to the television, watching the NBA Championship game - Chicago Bulls versus the Portland Trail Blazers.

You and Steve are very serious about the Bulls. It was something you bonded over in the early days of your friendship. Your dad was from Chicago, so you grew up a Bulls fan while Steve wanted to be a contrarian, and the Indiana Pacers sucked in the 80s, so he vowed his allegiance to the Bulls, and baby, being their fan was so sweet right now.

The jersey you gave Steve for his 19th birthday clung to his body, sticking to him due to the humidity in the air. You sat literally on the edge of the couch cushion, palms sweaty and pressing to your knees as the fourth quarter slowly came to a close with Bulls up. Steve stands beside you, hands on his hips and an empty beer bottle in the back pocket of his short shorts, tan thighs on display.

"They're going to three-peat," you say, eyes still glued to the screen.

Steve shushes you, "Don't jinx it."

You point to the screen as the time slips below a minute, "it's happening!"

With less than twenty seconds to go, the Bulls are only up by two points. You and Steve hold your breath as Michael Jordan steps up to the free-throw line. He sinks the first shot in. You bring a hand up to your mouth, the tension too much to handle. Steve puts his hands up to his head, stressed.

"He's doing it," you say, "it's happening-"

"Shhhh!" Steve waves you off, but you don't care. You're way too excited.

Jordan makes the second free throw and you jump up from your seat. Steve puts a nervous hand on your shoulder, eyes glued to the screen.

The Blazers take the ball down the court and they miss! The Bulls have the ball, they run out the clock, and they have it! They win the final game!

You and Steve jump up in excitement, cheering and hollering. He pulls you into a hug and you both jump around, holding onto each other tightly. You don't even notice as the front door opens and Robin walks in.

She slips off her shoes and looks over at the two of you freaking out over the win. Robin shakes her head, "you two are such freaks."

Steve breaks away from you and points at Robin, "We won!!!!!!"

You grab two beers, crack them open, and hand one to Steve who takes it happily. You toss one to Robin and she barely catches it. Steve crashes his bottle against yours and you both sip in celebration of this big win.

Safe to say that you're first week in Chicago is going great.

July 1992 The hot air is thick, making Steve’s dirty t-shirt stick to his body even more than it was during the pickup game. He says his goodbyes to the neighborhood guys as he exits the court, basketball tucked under his arm.

The sun sets as Steve makes his usual walk home. A small breeze blows past him, causing just the slightest bit of relief from the summer humidity.

He smiles, thinking about how great the summer has been so far. He's teaching summer classes in the morning to middle school kids and has the rest of the day to fill his time with whatever he wants. He mostly sees you or Robin, and Amanda.

Amanda, Amanda, Amanda. Things with her are going well, steady. She’s been back and forth between the city and her hometown now that she has the summer off. She hasn’t invited Steve home yet to meet her parents. She says it’s a big step in her family. Steve thought they were at that point, but she’s not as serious about him as he thinks. It should ring alarm bells in his head but he’s not completely bothered by it.

The relationship was still good, easy, nice. That’s what he should want, right? Easy like his parents. Not hard and sporadic like it was with you.

Steve enters his apartment building and jogs up the steps to his unit, feeling the air getter hotter as he rises. The phone starts to ring as he opens the front door. He rushes over to the kitchen and picks it up to hear your frantic voice on the other line.

"If you don't hear from me in three hours, it means I've gone missing and have most likely been murdered," you say. Steve quickly realizes you're being neurotic and not frantic at all.

He chuckles, "Okay, I don't even know where to start with this one."

"I'm going on a blind date," you explain. Steve pauses, unsure of what to think. Then he pauses some more, unsure of why he's pausing in the first place. You can date, that's normal, and he shouldn't feel some type of way about it. Does he feel some type of way? He clearly feels something toward the idea of you dating because he did pause and-

"Steve? You there?"

"Yeah, sorry," he crosses his arms, "what's his name? Just in case you do go missing."

You groan, "Brandon, that's all I know. We're meeting at Carmichael's, so come looking for me there."

Steve wants to laugh, imagining what you're doing on the other line right now. He pictures you all ready for your date, waiting by the door on your phone, nose scrunched up because you're nervous. He knows you're being serious because of all the crime books you read.

You were nervous for your first date in Chicago and truthfully, you just wanted to talk to Steve. He would make you feel better.

"Don't worry," he says smiling, "he won't be a total weirdo and murder you. He'll love you. Who wouldn't?"

You smile, nodding your head. You grab your bag from the hook, "thanks, really. Okay, I gotta go. I'll call you in like 3 or 4 hours."

"Woah, woah, woah," Steve jokes, "this Brendon guy is going to have you out past midnight? On the first date?"

You laugh, "First of all, it's Brandon and secondly, fuck off. Ok, byeeeeeeeeeeeee."

"Have fun, byyeeee-" he sings into the phone until it clicks. Steve sets down the phone, smiling a little too wide.

August 1992 "He said I was high maintenance, can you believe that?" You ask from the passenger seat. A bag of grapes sits on your lap. You pop one in your mouth, angrily chewing. Steve sits quietly in the driver's seat, biting his tongue and trying not to smirk. You notice, hitting him on the shoulder. He winces, "Ow!"

"Say I'm not high maintenance!"

"But you're a little high maintenance!"

Your jaw drops, dramatically showing your offense to his statement.

"There are two types of women," Steve explains, "low maintenance girls, and then there's you, high maintenance."

You look out the window at the flat Indiana fields. You two were driving home for the weekend before the kids went back to school.

"Like when it comes to food," he continues, "You don't like tomatoes or onions on your burger and want extra pickles. But, you want the tomatoes on the side, not the onions, because you like the option of tomatoes. You want whipped cream for your shake but on the side. You refuse to buy meat from any other place besides a local deli and even then you get it cut a specific way, you should really become a butcher at this point."

You shrug, "I like things a certain way."

Steve raises his eyebrows at you, "see. High maintenance. It's not a bad thing. I'm the same way about my hair."

He pops a grape into his mouth and you laugh, "Believe me, Farrah Fawcett, I know how particular you are about your hair."

September 1992 Lake Michigan is beautiful this time of year, you think as you and Steve walk along the lakefront. The great expanse of water on one side, the gorgeous city view on the other.

Steve tells you about his holiday plans or lack thereof. His girlfriend, who you swear you really like, is going home for Thanksgiving and didn't invite him. He wasn't so happy with that.

"It's not like she skipped over the conversation entirely," Steve huffs, "she outright told me I wasn't invited."

"Like in a rude way or just plain and simple," you ask, eyes trained on the horizon ahead of you.

"She said it was too soon. That, in her family, inviting a boyfriend to Thanksgiving doesn't happen without a ring on her finger."

You're careful with your words, not sure what to say. So you settle on, "That's intense."

Steve waves his hands in front of him as he speaks, "and I am so not ready for that. I mean, you don't think that was her way of telling me she wants me to propose?"

You want to jump into the frigid water at just the thought of Steve proposing to sweet, beautiful, smart Amanda. But you keep your cool, not letting him see that you feel physically nauseous at the idea of it. So you think about how a friend would answer because you two have become such good friends the last few months. But a question does gnaw at you, and it's honestly a question you'd ask any of your actual friends.

"Are you guys there yet? Like have you thought about getting engaged?"

And to your shameful pleasure, Steve doesn't even miss a beat when he says, "I haven't even thought about it."

You hide your smile, "then don't worry about it. She's just setting a boundary. Amanda doesn't seem like the type to play games like that."

He nods, slowly feeling better about the whole thing because of you.

"Guess I'll be spending Thanksgiving in Hawkins then," he says.

You nudge his side with yours, "there's always room for you at my place. I'm sure my parents would be more than happy to see you."

"You guys still make cornbread?"

"Oh, you know it."

Steve pumps his arm up in victory, "I'm so fucking there."

October 1992 The electronics store was lined with the newest television models, speakers, and VHS players. You gaze up at the wall of television sets, lost on which one you could possibly choose. The options were endless and all you wanted to do was watch your movies and All My Children.

Steve comes back with the store manager and points toward the TV they thought best. The manager picks up the box and moves it over to the checkout counter.

You turn to Steve, "Wait, I didn't even pick."

"Relax," he smiled his usual Harrington smile, "I got the very best for ya."

You narrow your eyes at him and he puts his hands up in surrender.

"Within your budget," he explains.

"Thank you," you mouth, brushing past him and toward the register to pay.

Steve settles in beside you as you write out a check. He picks up a tabloid magazine and holds it up to show you. "Okay, who'd you rather," Steve points to the front page of the magazine, "Keanu or Kevin Costner?"

You tilt your head, thinking long and hard about this. "Hmmm," you say,

"Keanu."

"No way you don't pick Costner. You made me watch Robin Hood like four times this summer," he exclaims.

The manager thanks you and pushes the TV toward you guys. Steve slides it off the counter not missing a beat.

"But I just rewatched Point Break, so I'm all about Keanu right now," you smirk, holding the door open for Steve. He repositions the heavy TV on his hip as you walk down the busy street.

He laughs, "I think you're missing the point of that movie."

"What? Like I'm not supposed to gawk over the hot men doing crazy stuff?"

"It's an action movie about sick stunts and cool dudes."

"A woman directed it, Steve. It's literally made for women to look at beautiful men."

"Even then, I'm more of a Swayze guy."

"I respect that. Okay, Demi Moore or Julia Roberts?"

"Easy. Demi Moore."

"That's just your nostalgia talking."

"I'm not saying Julia Roberts isn't gorgeous. But, yeah you're right, Demi is the forever crush."

"I feel like she'd go for you if you met in a bar or something."

"And have Bruce Willis beat my ass for looking at his wife? No, thank you. I've seen Die Hard and that guy's a beast."

"Ooooh, I change my answer to him."

Steve stops in his tracks, "Bruce Willis?! You're hot for Bruce Willis?!"

People glare at you two as they pass by on the sidewalk. You throw apologies their way while tugging Steve to keep moving.

"He looks great fighting all those bad guys!"

"But he's bald!"

"Not everyone can have beautiful luscious hair like you, Stevie."

"Well, no shit. But, really I don't get it. He looks so old too."

"Older guys know what they're doing."

"Okay, what the hell does that mean?"

"I just think Bruce Willis knows how to handle a woman, that's all."

"What? Like in bed?"

"Yes, in bed, Steve. Clearly, Demi Moore knows something we don't."

Steve follows as you climb the stairs up your apartment building. "You're saying you can look at a man and know if he's good at sex?" he asks.

"Well, I mean, not all the time. People can surprise you, but yes, you can get a vibe from a guy. You can tell if he's going to make you orgasm or not. Usually, it's a no."

That leaves Steve dumbstruck for a bit. He contemplates your sentiment as you let him into your apartment.

He sets the TV down and begins unwrapping it.

He huffs, "So how many guys have made you cum?"

You look up at him, pausing midway as you unzip your boot, "Steve."

"I'm asking as a concerned friend," he explains.

You slip off the boots and walk over to sit on the couch, "I don't know, like three maybe four."

"Maybe four? How can a guy maybe make that happen?" He's dead serious, like this is all science and totally not blurring the lines of friendship.

"Fine, a solid three guys have made me orgasm," you pause, looking up at him through your dark eyelashes. You shouldn't say the next part, but you do anyway, "including you."

Steve shouldn't like your response as much as he does, but the pride practically beams out of him. His ego physically grew as soon as you said that he's one of the few people to know you like that, to make you achieve something so intimate.

He smirks, turning back to the TV and moving some wires into place. You roll your eyes at him, "don't be gross."

"I'm not being gross," he turns, frowning, "actually I'm quite sad that these other men you've slept with haven't delivered in a way that you so deserve."

You shrug, "it's common for girls. I mean, most guys won't even go down on a girl."

"That's just crazy," Steve shakes his head, "that's half the fun."

You take a sip of your water as he continues talking about this totally inappropriate subject in the most clinical way.

"There are other ways to make your girl cum, like during the actual act of it. Guys are so dumb," he says.

"That's a total myth," you shake your head, "a female orgasm during penetration? Yeah right."

He turns to you in shock, "What? Are you serious?"

Heat creeps up your neck as a hint of embarrassment settles in. You nod shyly, "well it's never happened to me, so..."

Steve stands up, walking towards your seat on the couch. "No one's ever, you know," he lifts up two fingers, moving them together in small circles, "done the dirty DJ?"

He learned that one after you two were sleeping together because you have no clue what the fuck a dirty DJ is.

Steve sits beside you and grabs your glass, pouring out the water into his cup. He lifts the glass between you two, giving you a worried look as you stare back at him in utter confusion. "I'll show you," he says.

"So let's say you're with a guy and he's taking you from behind," he says casually. You laugh in disbelief, "romantic."

"This isn't romance, this is sex," he says in total seriousness, "and you're like back to chest, probably kneeling because that's easiest."

He moves the glass, sticking two fingers inside it, "That's his dick inside you if the description wasn't clear enough."

"Thank you for this visual," you deadpan, eyes locked on his movements.

Steve settles his two fingers on the glass now, toward the rim. He slowly moves them in circles, "now, there's a misconception to be gentle with the clitoris. But, you actually need to be rough with it." He picks his pace up, moving his fingers back in forth at an aggressive pace. Your breath hitches in your throat.

"Get a little rude with it. Really, get after it," he says, his movements coming to an end. He still holds the glass up, so you mimic his moves, circling the glass with your fingers like he did.

"Like that?"

"Yeah, like that," Steve smiles, "you're a natural."

"Hmmm," you keep circling your fingers, thinking about how on your next hook up you'll have to instruct the guy to do just this.

Steve watches as you move your fingers. "Perfect," he says, his mind slowing down as the moment settles over him.

You rhythmically move your fingers against the glass he's holding. A silence settles over the both of you as the tension builds up. You let your mind wander to Steve and his fingers, pumping into the glass. He starts to think of you and his fingers on you-

He sets the glass down abruptly, "I'm gonna go home."

You stand up, "Me too!"

Steve stands up, grabbing his coat, "No, no. You live here."

You sit back down and grab a pillow, "yes I do. Bye!"

He quickly leaves your apartment. You look over at the mostly set-up television and groan, sinking back into the couch.

November 1992 Steve sits beside Amanda on her couch. He stares ahead at the moving box tucked under the dining room table. How long has that been there for?

Amanda continues with her speech, "I'm sorry I didn't do this sooner, Steve."

He looks over at her. His tone comes out harsher than he intends, "Exactly how long have you been wanting to break up with me?"

"Steve," she says again, putting a hand on his knee. He stares back at her, urging her to answer his question.

"I swear I only found out about the position a couple of weeks ago, but," she sighs, "I guess I've been feeling distant from you for a little bit now."

"And you're just bringing this all up now?"

Amanda nods. Steve rubs his hands over his face, taking a moment to grasp the situation he's in.

"I don't understand," he says, "things were going fine."

"We've been dating for nearly a year and you haven't even told me you loved me yet," she says, hurt evident on her face.

"But we're not there yet, are we?" Steve asks, genuinely unsure.

She nods, "I was there. I've been there for a while now. Thought you would catch up."

Steve frowns, hating himself for being so oblivious to her feelings. How could he not know that she loved him? Is he that shallow to not even notice?

"Amanda, I'm so sorry," he starts but she cuts him off.

"It's okay, I honestly don't know if I would call it love, you know? I guess what I'm trying to say is that I don't want just a nice relationship. I want someone who knows I'm the one from the moment they meet me. I want a love that's not easy, but all-consuming, something that drives you crazy," she admits.

Amanda looks up at Steve, "does that even make sense?"

He nods, completely understanding the type of love she's talking about. He only knows that love because he's had it. He has it - with you.

Later that night After leaving Amanda, Steve slowly meanders back to his place, taking the time to digest what just happened. His stomach aches with the pain only felt after getting broken up with like that. Told that you're not the one. Did he even think that she was the one? What does that even mean?

Steve has always had the same vision for his future - to be a family man, have a wife and a few kids. He knew the attributes he wanted in the future mother of his children. Someone maternal, kind, patient, caring. It was all very logical, a future that any nice girl could slip into. Amanda was a great contender, but she didn't want to just slip into Steve's fantasy. She wants an all-consuming once-in-a-lifetime sort of love, and frankly, Steve doesn't blame her. He just never thought that kind of love was for him. Well, not after he lost you.

He shakes his head, crossing the street. He squints, realizing the street he was on, that without even thinking, his subconscious had led him to you.

Steve presses the buzzer to your apartment over and over again. He looks up at your window and the light is on, but you're not responding to him. He knocks on the front door again, to catch your attention, but instead, your downstairs neighbor, Mrs. Shirley, opens her window.

"What the hell are you making all this noise for?" she yells at Steve. He jumps back, "sorry. You know my friend, she lives above you."

"Clearly she doesn't want to see you if she's not letting you up, kid," Mrs. Shirley says.

Steve shakes his head, jogging down the stairs and reaching into the street to grab some rocks. Mrs. Shirley watches on.

He throws the rocks at your window until it's opening. Your head pops out and eyes land on him, "Steve?"

"I've been ringing you for the past ten minutes!"

"The buzzer's broken!" you explain.

"Will you let this damn boy in?" Mrs. Shirley interjects, grumpily.

You peer down at her and smile, "Sorry Mrs. Shirley!" You drop your keys down to Steve, "Come on up!"

Steve rushes up the stairs, waving at your nosey neighbor as he lets himself into your building.

You immediately notice how disheveled Steve looks as he enters your apartment. His hair is a mess, dark circles are evident under his eyes, and even his outfit isn't put together as usual.

Unbeknownst to you, Steve is not only upset from the breakup. But, he's mostly riddled with confusion. Does he act on his constant attraction to you? That ten-year-long inexplicable pull toward you? Those feelings that never seem to leave him?

He fiddles with your keys for a moment then looks up at you, "Amanda broke up with me."

You eye him, your mind procuring a logical reaction of sadness for your friend while your heart thumps hard against your chest, pumping with the familiar feeling of - what if?

You decide to lean into your logical feelings and say, "Oh Steve. I'm sorry." You expect him to walk toward you and sulk into your arms, but he doesn't. Instead, he remains a healthy distance away from you.

"What happened?" you ask.

Steve looks away, feeling his breath catch in his throat, "She, uh, says I'm not the one. That she's looking for someone who makes her crazy and that she can't live without."

Then you see his chest rise up and down, eyes growing watery as his next words come out shakily, "I guess she can live without me, huh?"

You frown, reaching out to close the gap between you two. You grab his hand and pull Steve in, wrapping your arms around him. He lets himself fall into you, resting his chin on the side of your head, tears falling down his cheeks onto your hair.

He's not sure why he's crying. He didn't think it would affect him this much, but seeing you immediately broke him down, allowed him to let himself feel all the emotions.

You and Steve stayed like that for a while, holding each other in your entryway, something major solidifying in your relationship. For the first time, neither of you wanted anything more from this emotional exchange.

In the past, whenever something bad happened and you needed each other, that's when the intimacy would start, two scared people finding comfort in each other's beds. But this, comforting Steve now, didn't lead to anything more. You two hadn't even thought about it. Instead, you were there for him like a good friend would be.

December 1992 Christmas in Florida was a first for you, the sun warm enough in the daytime for you to dip in the pool with all your nieces and nephews. After a long day, you found yourself sunken into your sister's couch watching old romance movies.

It was just past eleven when your family turned in for the night, but you stayed up to watch Brief Encounter, a 1945 film about two strangers falling in love over time - despite their current circumstances. Whether it was subconscious or not, you called Steve, urging him to tune into that channel and watch it with you.

So you sat on the couch, a throw pillow wrapped up around you and phone held lazily to your ear as Steve joined you from his bed in Chicago, duvet tucked up to his chin as he watched the small television set at the foot of his bed.

"This is sad, like totally sad," Steve sighed into the phone.

"I think it's romantic," you refute.

"They're practically cheating on their spouses."

"Talking isn't cheating."

"These two want to do more than just talk."

"Fine, they may be emotionally cheating, but that doesn't mean they can't be together!"

"Here's what's going to happen," he states, "they'll break up their marriages thinking that their love is stronger, then they'll finally hook up and realize it's terrible and they're actually not meant to be together and-"

"Oh, shut up," you laugh, "you're jaded because of the breakup."

"Love isn't real and I'll die alone," Steve breathes out dramatically.

You smirk, "that's not true. You'll have me bothering you for an eternity."

"A man could be so lucky," he smiles softly as the movie goes on. The two of you cozily watch on either side of the country.

New Year's Eve 1993 The top floor of the Sears Tower is packed with partygoers dancing, drinking, and ready to ring in the new year. You and Steve stand in front of the floor-to-ceiling windows, dressed in your very best holiday attire, gazing out at the incredibly lit-up skyline.

Steve looks over at you as you lift your champagne flute to point at Lake Michigan. Your hair is up high in a slick ponytail, and diamond-crusted earrings dangle down your neck, leading his eyes down to your exposed collarbones. He steals a glance at your figure in this dress, the black satin hugging you in all the right ways.

"It's so fucking dark!" you exclaim at Steve, "like a huge mass of nothingness!"

He can't help but laugh at your usual crudeness breaking his trance. He shouldn't be looking at you like this anyway, Steve thinks, not with you two being such good friends.

Friends don't let themselves linger on bare shoulders and long legs.

Steve looks back out the window with you, "it's pretty scary if you think about it. Miles and miles of water, we can't even see the other side."

You shake your head, flabbergasted by the vastness of Lake Michigan.

Steve steals another glance at you, noticing the shimmer on your cheeks. He smiles and says gently, "You look beautiful."

You look up at Steve, letting his compliment sink in. His eyes bore into yours, really looking at you. Looking at you like no one else has before. You feel a pull towards him, that same magnetic pull you’ve felt your entire life basically, but it drags you in with more force during moments like these. You’d be lying to yourself if you didn’t feel the pull toward Steve strengthen in the last few months. Before you can respond, Robin's voice hits your ears.

"This party is faaaaaaaaancy," she says with her mouth full of hors d'oeuvres.

You take a small step back, not realizing how close you and Steve had drifted together. Robin turns to you, holding up a full plate of snacks, "is your date like the prince of Chicago or something?"

You laugh, "No, well, not exactly."

Connor, the new guy you've been seeing comes from an aristocratic family that helped develop the city back in the day. They were part owners of the building you were standing in.

"Either way, thank him for me. This party is mint," Robin excitedly approves, downing her drink.

Steve successfully keeps his eye roll to himself. Sure, he knew you were dating someone, but did it have to be another rich prick with the ability to sweep you off on his private jet whenever he wanted to?

"It's almost midnight!" you exclaim, scanning the room, "I better go find Connor. I'll see you guys later!"

And you were off, floating through the crowd to find your billionaire boyfriend. Steve finally let that eye roll out. Robin noticed, shaking her head at his self-inflicted misery. He turns to her, "Please, I don't want to hear it tonight."

She shrugs, hiding her smile, "I didn't say anything."

Unlike other times, Robin drops the subject of Steve's feelings for you, knowing he's miserable enough tonight having to watch you with another guy.

And that's exactly how Steve spends his final hours of 1992. He stands off to the side as the crowd around him counts down to midnight. His eyes find you in the middle of the dance floor, a big smile on your lips as you count down too, wrapped up in Conor's arms. Cheers and confetti erupt around the room, but Steve can only watch you.

February 1993 You float around the large department store, sifting through business attire while Steve happily follows behind you like a puppy. You hold up a grey pencil skirt, "what about this one?"

Steve narrows his eyes, "is that a trick question?"

You shake your head, urging him to answer.

"It's the same one you picked out like five minutes ago," he says.

"This one has a slit. See," you point at the cut in the fabric. Steve feigns understanding, "Ah, yes! A slit! How could I miss that."

You groan, adding it to the selections already hanging from your arm. Steve grabs the clothes from you and holds them so you don't have to. You continue onto the next rack.

"When did we get to the point in our lives where we have more work clothes than fun clothes?" you huff out.

Steve chuckles, "Welcome to your mid-twenties, babe."

You suck in your bottom lip, trying to hide your small reaction to the new nickname. Steve's picked it up, recently calling you babe every so often. Babe, you've got something there, or see you soon babe. It was dizzying sometimes, but you loved it.

"I need more going-out clothes," you state, sifting through a rack of gorgeous dresses.

"Right, for your hot dates with Casanova Connor," Steve says, a definite bitterness in his tone, "I'm sure he'd buy you a whole new wardrobe if you'd ask."

"Actually," you give Steve a look, resting a hand on the rack. Steve stands beside you, head tilted. You sigh, "We broke up."

Steve opens his mouth to speak, but can't seem to find the words. You notice his temporary brain malfunction and try hard for it not to make you happy. But it does - just a little bit.

Finally, Steve finds his footing and asks, "What? When did this happen?" There's genuine concern behind his question. Although the happiness does some to be creeping in.

You shrug, "the other night."

"And you didn't call me? I could have gone over with snacks or-"

"It's okay. Really. I ended things with him," you pick up a dress and scan it over, "so I wasn't that torn up about it."

Now happiness has fully set in Steve and he does his best to hide it. "Oh," he says, a smug smile on his face, "well, good for you then."

"Thank you," you raise your eyebrows at him, wanting nothing more than to change this conversation. So you pick up another dress and ask for Steve's opinion, the two of you continuing to roam the store like two best friends.

But Steve couldn't be more excited to wade into a new territory with you. One where you're both single and closer than ever.

March 1993 The Spring recital at Steve's school is in full swing. He wanted you to hang out backstage to watch the show while he corralled the children, making sure everything ran smoothly.

You watch as Steve kneels in front of a little boy with glasses and a cello bigger than him, giving him a much-needed pep talk. Steve was great at this, you think, letting your mind wander to how good of a father he'd be.

Your eyes linger on Steve's arms fitted into his dress shirt, the sleeves cuffed up around his biceps. His reading glasses sit atop his perfectly fluffed hair. The dress pants tight around his cute little butt in this position.

Steve stands up, making his way toward you. He lets out a breath, "That kid is a ball of anxiety but honestly the best one in the show. The bastard's a little Mozart."

You reach out, your palm landing softly on his bicep, "you're doing great. The kids, the show, everything is amazing, Steve."

He smiles reveling in the compliment before another little voice calls out for him, "Mr. Harrington!!!" Steve gives you a look before dashing into the dressing room.

You smile to yourself, not noticing Tabitha, a nosy fifth grader, appear by your side. She looks up at you, "are you Mr. Harrington's girlfriend?"

You startle a bit, looking down to find Tabitha staring up at you. "Oh hi," you smile, "but no, I'm his friend."

"That's what they all say," the young girl says, rolling her eyes.

Your jaw drops a bit, "excuse me?"

She sighs like an older fed-up woman would, "My dad had a friend like you. Now I have to call her step-mommy."

And with that, Tabitha walks onto stage to start her piano piece, leaving you completely dumbfounded by the audacity of this little girl.

April 1993 For whatever hellish reason, a heatwave had hit Chicago in the middle of Spring. Luckily, the hottest day was a Saturday, meaning you and Steve were posted up on the sandy shore of Lake Michigan.

Steve wasn't being slick. You could feel his eyes on you a lot more these days, between stolen glances at your lips and a hot gaze from across the room. But today, you could sense him peeking over at you in your little red bikini all morning.

To be fair, you were leaving quite little to the imagination in an attempt to get as good of a tan as possible. Also, a part of you knew that wearing this tiny bikini would send Steve reeling. That, of course, was an even better reason to wear it.

You look up at Steve, catching his eye. He doesn't miss your cheeky smirk as you flip onto your stomach, landing just inches away from him. You scoot closer to let your legs lightly brush up against his, your hips bumping, all while you pretend to read from your book. Like your actions weren’t deliberately trying to evoke something out of Steve.

He couldn’t help but suck in a breath, your skin on his feeling hot and soft. Steve braced himself on his elbows, trying to look anywhere than your perfect ass, perky and on full view in that damn swimsuit.

“Steveeee,” you hummed, still not looking at him.

“Mhmm?”

“Can I have some of your soda?”

He nodded, reaching over to grab the corner store to-go cup. Steve held it toward you. But before he could set it down for you to take, you lifted your head and leaned in toward the cup, your pink lips enclosing around the straw. You looked up at him through dark eyelashes as you took a long sip, sucking on the plastic straw.

Steve held the eye contact, letting time and everything else melt away around you two. You could feel his breath on your face with how close he was.

With a small pop, you pulled your lips away from the straw and smiled at Steve, “Cherry cola.”

“Your favorite,” he says, not missing a beat.

The sun hits your skin perfectly, he thinks, the brightness softening your features. Without thinking, Steve reaches out and trails his knuckle down your arm. You don’t stop him. His touch feels like it has in the past - hot, addicting, it makes you hungry. But this time, and maybe it’s your own delusions, it doesn’t feel fleeting like it used to.

May 1993 Being the youngest of five came with its pros and cons. Getting to dress up in a pretty bridesmaid dress was definitely a pro. But now that your sister was tying the knot, you were the only unmarried one left, which meant a lot of speculation was hurled your way at said sister's wedding.

You knew it could be a bad idea to bring Steve as your date. But the thought of spending a whole weekend alone with your nosy family was downright agonizing, and, truthfully, you wanted him to be your date. Four days away in a quaint little Vermont town with good food, drinks, and your family. How could you not ask him to come with you?

Steve of course jumped at the idea, already making plans to find a tuxedo rental. Your friendship had shifted into that uncharted territory - both of you were single and completely enamored with each other. Constantly hanging out or on the phone, meeting each other after work or on campus to grab a drink, a coffee, lunch, dinner, to go see a movie, to sit on his couch and watch Seinfeld, to chat on your rooftop late into the night, to catch a ballgame, to meet your friends for dancing - the list goes on. You two were basically dating without any of the physical benefits.

And this wedding, well, it did something to both of you. Seeing Steve with your family, looking so good in that tux, basking in all his attention the entire weekend. Your heart practically leaped out of your chest whenever you'd look out into the church crowd and catch him already looking at you. He couldn't take his eyes off you the entire ceremony, letting his daydreams wander to the idea of you and him standing up there, exchanging vows.

He was the perfect date, to no surprise at all, and tonight was no different. The reception was in full swing. The wedding band plays another 80s hit while Steve spins back into his arms. You two have been dancing like fools the whole party, drunk off of champagne and the romance of the weekend.

The band begins to play a slow song and you immediately recognize the melody. Steve pulls you in close, one hand tucked into yours and the other easily clasped against your lower back.

"Of course, they're playing The Cure," he laughs lightly.

You think back to high school and all the times you snuck off to meet Steve in his car. The Cure's album playing as you two got cozy in the backseat.

You scoot in closer, your head falling against his shoulder, his chin grazing your forehead as you sway back and forth. Steve breathes you in, letting himself reveal his thoughts out loud.

"I couldn't listen to them for years," he admits. You stay quiet, a slight sadness creeps up.

He continues, "But then, a couple of years ago, a song from their old album came on the radio. You know, the one we loved, and I couldn't help but dance to it. Like it wasn't the sad thing anymore."

You nod, understanding him completely. For years your past relationship with Steve was clouded by the heartbreaking ending when it never should have been. You two shared a love so sweet, so rare - that's what should be remembered.

You look up at him and smirk, "Better to have love and lost, or however that saying goes."

Steve shakes his head, laughing with you. You settle back into him, head resting against his shoulder again. He leans down, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead as the song comes to a close.

Back at the hotel, which was rented out entirely for the wedding, most of the guests your age were excitedly running toward the pool, jumping in with their black-tie attire and champagne bottles.

Steve grabs your hand as you leap into the pool, only to come up for air and have his hand still in yours. The rest of the night consisted of drinking games, swimming races, and diving competitions - the general after-hours wedding debauchery. You were just happy to have Steve by your side the entire time.

As the night drew later and couples slowly peeled off, the pool calmed and the air grew quiet. You look around, realizing the pool is suddenly empty. Just you and Steve in your beautiful clothes floating in the water.

You kick your legs to keep you afloat, bringing a hand up to push your damp hair out of your eyes. Steve dips his head back into the water to wet his hair. He shakes it as he comes back up, running a hand through his wet locks. Your eyes linger on his movements a little longer than intended. He catches you, flashing a small smile - almost a smirk, but it's softer than that.

"I can't believe my sister's married," you bring up out of the blue, trying to shift the focus.

Steve subconsciously inches closer to you, pushing his hands in the water. He tilts his head, "how do you feel being the only single one left?"

Your head lowers. The water just comes to your chin as you speak, "I don't mind. I guess I want to be sure when I get married. Not like Vanessa." You mention your oldest sister now - she's already on her second marriage before 35.

Steve nods, again floating closer to you, "when did she get married? The first time."

"She was 21," you breathe out, blowing bubbles into the water, "married her high school sweetheart."

"Ah," Steve remembers now. He remembers how you threw your sister's failed marriage at him during one of your break-up fights. She was another reason why you insisted you two were doomed. High school relationships never work, you told him - look at my sister.

"At least she's happy now, ya know, with her new husband," Steve said, trying to reason with you.

You just shrug, "True, but she still had to go through that all so young. That's why I'm waiting. To really make sure."

"My parents met in their thirties," Steve starts, "and it's not like they're any more in love than they would have been if they met in high school."

You gaze at Steve as he speaks, taking in the vulnerability in his tone. He continues, "I don't even think they like each other. They just like the life they've built together. It's safe, comfortable, nice."

Steve pauses, looking at you, "A nice and easy life isn't always what's meant to be. So, maybe your sister had to go through some shit to find who she's actually meant to be with. And now she's happy."

You hold his gaze, really looking at him. His brown eyes peer into yours like they're searching for something. You look away, suddenly noticing how still and quiet the space is around you. The last of the partygoers have left, leaving just you and Steve in the pool. The cool water suddenly feels chilly.

Steve notices your shiver and brushes your arm, "let's get you warmed up."

You follow him out of the pool, happily taking his outstretched hand as you step onto the deck. He grabs a thick towel, placing it around you, rubbing it along your arms to create some warmth. You smile, pulling the towel around yourself. Steve grabs another towel and shakes his hair out like a wet dog, sending water droplets your way.

You shriek, "Steeeeeveeee!" You gently shove him away.

He nuzzles his wet head of hair into your towel-covered shoulder, pulling more giggles out of you. Steve pulls back and rubs the towel against his hair again, this time straightening up. You take in his damp state, his white dress shirt sticking to his skin, practically sheer. You of course notice the chest hair peaking out of the shirt.

Steve bumps your elbow with his, "C'mon. I need to get out of these clothes."

You nod - you couldn't agree more.

In your shared hotel room, you wait in the bathroom. Your robe tugged snuggly against your body. Steve was watching some reruns on TV, you could hear his tired laugh from the other side of the door.

Whether it was on purpose or not - you had left your pajamas in the main room and had to go out to retrieve them while wearing just your robe. Now, this would have been a normal interaction if you and Steve were ever only just friends. But for some reason, you were nervous to pass him with basically no clothes on. You weren't sure you could trust yourself.

So you opened the bathroom door, tugging the belt around your robe a little tighter. You spotted Steve sitting on the edge of the bed in front of the TV. His eyes drifted to you as he heard the door open. You smile, eyeing your suitcase on the other side of the room.

Steve shamelessly looked you up and down, gaze drifting up your bare legs, noting how short that robe was on you. He didn't take his eyes off you as you passed him to get to your suitcase, his mind racing. He took a deep breath, now was not the time to think.

Maybe it was the several drinks in his system or maybe it was being at a wedding with you. Whatever it was, Steve couldn't resist but reach out to you as you walked past him again. His fingers grazed your soft thighs, sinking into you.

You flushed, thankful for the dim light in the room, frozen as Steve latched onto your leg. You turn to stand in front of him, his face looking up at you with such a wild look in his eyes. Nerves flood your system, the good kind.

He carefully brushes his knuckles against your thigh before bringing a hand around it, tugging you toward him. Steve keeps his hand on the back of your leg as he says your name, the sweet sound filling your ears. You practically have him on his knees, he thought. You could do anything, say anything, and he was yours. You wondered if he knew that he had the same effect on you.

Steve lifts his other hand to tug on the hem of your robe, confirming your suspicions. You look down at him, taking in his too-small Hawkins gym shirt and boxers. God, he smells good too. Truthfully, nothing else went through your mind at this moment. Just the sight of him and the desire to feel him on you was all that drove your decision-making.

You lift your hands to the linen belt around your waist, tugging the knot undone, working painfully slow with your fingers. Steve hung onto every movement, his breath halting as you carefully let the belt hang to the side, letting your robe hang open just a bit. You grab Steve's hand, his eyes never leaving yours, as you guide his touch toward your stomach, urging him to push open the robe himself.

Steve slowly pushes the fabric away, opening up the robe to reveal your bare body. You wanted him so badly to pull you on top of him then, but he didn't. Instead, Steve wanted to take this moment in. Slowly, painfully.

The rough pads of his fingers graze over your soft skin. Were you always this soft?

He inches up your belly to your chest, lightly tracing over the curve of your breasts. His other hand leaves your thigh and gently reaches at your hip, taking in the new curve there too. He hates himself for missing these changes. Your body suddenly different than he remembered. But you were still so damn soft.

Your whole body was on fire as Steve drank you all in. His eyes gazing over all of you, bare and ready for him. No one's ever done this to you, not even Steve back in the day. Tonight, he wanted to take his time.

His fingers trail down your hip to touch your inner thigh. You suck in a breath as he leans forward, pressing a kiss just centimeters below your belly button. Steve's fingers dance along your leg, getting higher and higher. You grasp his shoulders, bracing yourself.

"So soft," he says between kisses, "you were always so fucking soft."

Oh fuck, you're a goner.

You step towards him, gripping his face in between your hands. You try to lower yourself onto his lap but he grips your thigh, keeping you in place before him.

He laughs softly, "What's the rush?"

"Steve," you breathe out, giving him a look.

"I've waited nearly a decade for this. Let me take my time," he says confidently. You can't help but give in, releasing your grip from his hair and letting him have his way with you.

Because Steve was right - it had been a long time since either of you had felt this way. Sex was sex, but this, whatever this was with Steve was always different. No matter how much you lied to yourselves, no one ever measured up. Not in life and definitely not in bed.

June 1993 "Fuck, oh my god," you breathe out against Steve's sheets, your cheek pressed into the mattress as he kneels behind you.

Steve's hands grip your hips firmly as he fucks you from behind, your ass slapping against him, skin crashing against skin. He groans, driving deeper into you.

This is what the last three weeks have been like for you and Steve. Dirty, filthy, adult sex that you logistically couldn't have in high school. Or, rather, didn't know how to have yet. Suddenly, you're both grateful for the time apart because now you're adults who actually know what they're doing. Not that King Steve wasn't great in bed, but this Steve - this was a 20-something man who has honed in his naturally intuitive craft of pleasing a woman. And you were loving every second of it.

Steve grabs your throat, pulling you up flush against him. The June air was hotter than usual in his bedroom. Your skin sticky against his as you press your back into his chest. He brings his fingers in between your legs, finding your clit. Definitely not afraid to be rough with his movements.

You let your head rest back on his shoulder, your body bubbling with pleasure, ready to pop at any second. Steve's pace grows faster, sloppier, as you whimper in his ear. Your breaths are soft, your lips perfect and plump, whimpering his name.

"Yes, fuck," you say, your voice loud, "Steve!"

Both of your movements are rough and sloppy as you finish, Steve not far behind you. He bites into your neck as his body shudders against yours, spilling inside you. You let yourself go limp against him, eyes closed and tired from the events of this Saturday morning in bed.

Steve grips your neck again, softer this time. Steadying himself to kiss along the column of your throat to your shoulder. You hum at his sweet touch, the feeling of his lips on your body never getting old.

You look at the alarm clock on the bedside table. It's nearly three in the afternoon. You laugh softly, "maybe we should get up."

"Give me a minute," he kisses the nape of your neck, "I'll be ready for another round."

You shake your head, "that would be like the fourth time today!" You pull apart from him, flipping over to sit on the mattress. Steve winces at the loss of contact. He sits back, grabbing absentmindedly at your ankle. He smirks, "I'm down to go all night too. If you are."

"Easy, Harrington. I need to eat."

"Fuel up. Good idea!"

You smile, laying back and pulling the sheets over you as Steve stands up, fumbling around the room for his clothes. He looks back at you and points, "Don't move, baby."

Steve quickly leaves the room, shutting the door behind him. He makes his way into the kitchen to find Robin sitting at the table with her headphones on. She looks up, glaring at Steve. His eyes widen, "have you been here the whole time?"

She slips off her large headphones and Steve can hear the music blasting loudly from them. "I walked in on, Stevie baby please!" Robin mimics you, overdramatizing your sultry voice. Steve cringes as she continues, "But I put music on when you started going off."

She drops her voice an octave to copy Steve now, "fuck, you're so good. This is so-"

"Nope!" Steve waves his hands, "Let's stop this, please!"

Robin bangs her head against the wall behind her, groaning, "While I'm happy you two have reconnected, please for the love of god fuck somewhere else. She lives alone!"

"I thought you were gone all morning!"

"It's literally three in the afternoon!"

You listen to Robin and Steve bicker, smiling to yourself from your comfy spot in Steve's bed.

July 1993 Light jazz plays from a record player in the perfectly decorated living room of your professor, Dr. Cano's, house. Over your first year of law school, she's taken quite an interest in you, and tonight you were her only current student to get an invite to one of her dinner parties - famous for solidifying her mentorship.

The nerves alone could have killed you, but luckily, she told you to bring a date. So, you brought Steve, your...best friend that you've been fucking incessantly for the past two months and have been in love with for maybe forever. You two were comfortable, confident in each other, letting yourselves actually date. You weren't afraid of where this could go with Steve, you were letting your feelings for him take the wheel and it felt great. Nothing was in the way of your love for once.

You watch from the other side of the room as Steve charmed two city big wigs. The older men laughed with Steve, clinking their scotch glasses against his.

Dr. Cano nudges your side with her elbow, "Thank you for coming tonight. Everyone loves you."

You raise your wine glass to meet hers and slip out a polite 'thank you' before taking a sip. You smile, "I was a bit nervous at first, but everyone is so welcoming, they made it easy."

"I try to surround myself with people who, don't get me wrong, are still very pretentious," she laughs, "but actually want to make a difference, and the only way to do that is to bring in new blood. Like you."

You nod, understanding her investment in you. It feels good, knowing that your life is moving in all the right directions.

Dr. Cano points her glass at Steve, "And your boy is such a hit. Talking to Daniel about the Cubs and then immediately diving into public school reform was really the cherry on top for me."

"He doesn't even realize he's talking to the next senator of Illinois," you laugh.

She shakes her head, "No, but that's what makes him so great. He's down to earth but smart. Honestly could have a good career in local politics."

"Don't put ideas into his brain, Professor. You'll have him dreaming of being the president," you smile wide, peering over at Steve. He looks up, meeting your eyes. He gives you a small wave before the other men reel him back into the conversation again.

You can't help but admire him tonight. Steve looks great wearing his dress pants and dark green sweater. His hair was styled back neatly, his face freshly shaved. He insisted on wearing his reading glasses to 'look smarter' but you told him he would probably be the smartest person in the room, teaching a new generation of lawyers and politicians.

Steve and you walk beside each other on the mostly empty sidewalk, his arm loosely wrapped around your shoulders. You tuck in close to his side, the light material of your long black dress lets in a cool breeze.

He presses a soft kiss to your head as you wait for the cars to pass before crossing the street. “Mmm you smell good,” Steve mumbles into your hair.

He breaks away for a moment, grabbing your hand to lead you across the street. Your heels click against the pavement as you scurry onto the sidewalk again, Steve’s hand strong in yours.

It’s all so normal. Like this is how it always should have been between you two. Sometimes you let yourself fall into that trap, into a pool of regret and guilt. If you had only pushed your fears aside and asked Steve to move to New York with you. But you can’t blame your 18-year-old self, and things happen for a reason.

And sometimes when you remember how much time you wasted not being with Steve, you hold him a little closer, kiss him a little harder, love him a little more.

August 1993 Something’s in the air. Maybe it’s the full moon or the humidity that had Steve feeling off all day. You two were going to his coworker’s birthday party on some chic rooftop downtown.

Adding to his already anxious state, you were late to meet him outside the hotel. He shouldn’t have been mad but he was. Unreasonably so.

“Hey,” you huff, jogging up to him, “sorry, my train was late.”

You lean up, giving him a quick peck. It’s a quick kiss - a hello, casual, like a couple would do.

Steve looks down at your empty hands, “where’s the gift?”

You pause before letting out a breathy groan, picturing the gift box you insisted on wrapping for Steve sitting atop your kitchen table.

It shouldn’t have been a big deal, but Steve was already feeling like shit after a particularly rough day of teaching summer school. He also recounts the shitty interaction he had with the barista this morning.

Instead of regulating his emotions, he decided to be a total grump and take it out on you.

Steve rolls his eyes and you let out a soft laugh at him, thinking he’s feigning dramatics. But he’s not, and your laugh just pissed him off more.

“You seriously forgot it?” he asks as you walk into the elevator, and you notice his irritated tone.

You shrug, “it’s fine. You can give it to her when school starts.”

“That’s in like two weeks,” he rebuttals.

“I’m sure she’ll need a new Dutch oven then too,” you say, the sarcasm hitting Steve’s ear sharply.

“You’re not even sorry?”

You scoff, “for what? Forgetting the gift? Really?”

“Yes forgetting the gift. It’s a birthday party and we’re showing up empty-handed and late,” he says quickly, “that’s so fucking rude.”

“Geez, Steve, what’s your deal?”

“I just didn’t think you were so inconsiderate,” he huffs as the elevator door opens. Music hits your ears as you step out onto the rooftop bar.

“Fine, I’m sorry for forgetting the gift and for being late,” you grumble, following Steve toward his group of friends. You tug his arm, holding him back just before you reach the group.

His eyes meet yours as you say, “Are you okay?”

Instead of shrugging it off and letting you in, explaining he’s had a shit day, Steve brushes you off with his casual sarcasm, “never been better.”

You scrunch your eyebrows together, but he’s walking up to his friends before you can speak. You push your anger to the side and greet the group, falling into easy step with them all.

You and Steve have practically avoided each other the whole night, the tension between you two at an all-time high, and for what? Because you forgot a birthday gift?

You look at your watch, realizing it’s almost midnight, and reach for Steve. You both had an early morning tomorrow and agreed to leave early. You grab onto his arm, leaning close in a low voice, “We should go. It’s late.”

He turns away from the conversation he’s having and barely looks over at you as he speaks, “Yeah, I’ll meet you down there in a sec.”

You hesitate, never in your life have you felt so dismissed. What the fuck has gotten into him?

So you purse your lips and give him a tight nod, turning to leave without saying goodbye to anyone. Steve of course notices your attitude, letting you walk away.

A whole fifteen minutes goes by before Steve finally meets you on the street. Your arms were crossed at your stomach as you rocked back and forth on your heels. You notice his mop of hair exit the revolving door and you try so hard not to snap at him then and there. Instead, you look away, chin high and jaw clenched.

He can practically see the steam fuming from you. He feels bad for his attitude. He wasn’t sure why he was so angry at you, he just was.

“I’ve been waiting a while,” you murmur, not looking at him.

“Yeah, well, I wasn’t ready to go yet,” Steve says, that insufferable arrogance popping out.

You whip your head at him, glaring now, “What the fuck is up with you tonight?”

He stares back at you, asking himself that question. Maybe it’s self-sabotage or maybe it’s what he truly thinks, but Steve can’t help but fixate on all the little things you’ve done “wrong” in your relationship. You were forgetful sometimes, crass and blunt, too ambitious, and narrow-minded at times. But what really got to Steve wasn’t these tiny things, and a part of him knew that, it was that familiar feeling of fear that crept up on him all of a sudden. Things were going too well for you two, and he was afraid to settle in.

You blink back at him, unable to read his tense expression. Your eyes soften, “if this is about the gift, I’m sorry. Okay, really-"

“It’s not about the stupid gift,” he finally says.

“Then what’s it about?”

Steve shrugs, avoiding your gaze, “Nothing. It’s fine.” He starts to turn to walk down the sidewalk but you step after him, swatting his arm with your purse. He winces.

“Stop and talk to me,” you state firmly.

Steve looks at you hesitatingly, “I don’t know. I guess I’ve been thinking about us. What we are.”

“We’re dating, Steve. It’s not that crazy.”

“But it’s not weird to you? That we’re now this normal couple?”

“No,” you cross your arms, “it feels pretty organic to me.”

He puts his hands on his hips, “even after everything we’ve been through?”

You look away dismissively, “is that what this is about? You’re still hung up on the past?”

“How could I not be?” Steve’s voice a higher pitch now, “You broke my fucking heart.”

“We were nineteen Steve!” You yell, exasperated, “We are different people now, and what we’ve had in the last year should show you that.”

“But how can you be so sure we’ve changed? That we won’t fuck it up again?”

You shake your head, “I’m not sure. But that’s okay. That’s what being in a relationship is. You have to rely on how you feel and I-“

You pause, a small smile creeps onto your face as you say, “And I love you. I know that I love you, so I don’t worry about anything else.”

Steve gazes down at you, pain evident on his face. The crease in his forehead deepens as he shakes his head, “I’m scared.”

Your eyes soften at his vulnerability finally peeking through. You want to reach out to him but you don’t. Instead, he continues, “I’m scared to get hurt again. I’m scared you’ll leave me and I’ll lose you. I can’t do that again. You’re my best friend.”

You suck in a breath, letting his words sink in. Hurt colors your face as you speak, “I can’t just be your friend, Steve.”

He stares back at you, the silence lingers as dread floods through your body, unsure of what the boy in front of you is thinking.

“I don’t know, I just can’t do this,” Steve finally says, the words hitting you like a dagger.

You step forward, “Don’t do this.” You grab his hands, “you’re scared, I get that. But we can do this together.”

He pulls away, avoiding your eyes. You feel a cold rush through you as you’ve lost total control of the situation.

“What can I do? Please just tell me,” you plead, not caring that you’re begging at this point. Something you swore you’d never do for a man. But this isn’t just any guy, this is Steve. Your Steve.

“Stop, please-“

“You love me right?”

“Of course I love you!” Steve shouts, his chest tightening.

“Isn’t that enough?”

Silence settles over you again, and this time you understand. There’s nothing you can say to change Steve’s mind. Maybe he made this decision way before you reconnected. Maybe he knew from the first time he kissed you that you were never the girl he would end up with.

You look away, eyes watering. A car alarm goes off a few streets over, chatter from down the block, an ambulance blares, the sounds of the city come back into your senses.

You look back up at Steve, his lips pouty and eyes red. “this isn’t me leaving,” you say, your voice small, defeated, “this is you pushing me away.”

Steve looks down at the ground unable to watch you walk away. So you turn, walking down the sidewalk with your hands tucked into your jacket pockets. You almost think he’s going to run after you, calling out your name, and admit how stupid he is and that he didn’t mean any of it. But Steve doesn’t move, he just lets you walk away again, the same way he did all those years before.

September 1993 Things were tough, to say the least, and Robin was caught right in the middle of it. For the past two weeks, she’s watched both of her friends quickly descend onto their own paths of madness.

You poured yourself into your second year of law school, arguably the hardest one of them all. You hardly ever left campus, holed up in the library until late into the night, unable to sleep.

Meanwhile, Steve was doing just as bad. He barely ate, his hair was unkempt, he was irritable, and not the same cool teacher the students remember him to be. He was drinking more too, a lot more. It helped him forget you because that’s what he thought was best. Like forgetting you would save him from any further pain.

It got particularly bad when one night, a Tuesday mind you, he got so drunk he picked a fight with some random guy. Luckily Robin was there, and sober, to stop it. The guy was some rich asshole from out of town - preppy, loud, and obnoxious. Then his buddies called out his name - Peter.

Now it wasn’t your ex-boyfriend Peter in the bar that night. But, Steve, being drunk and never having met the guy, thought that this douchebag was in fact your Peter. So he sauntered up to the guy and punched him square in the nose, which earned Steve a fist to the jaw, knocking him back into the bar so fast he didn’t know what hit him. Robin and the bartender jumped in before the guy and his friends could beat the shit out of Steve. Yet, he still woke up the next day with several bruises and a nasty hangover.

Robin held an intervention as soon as he came back from school the next afternoon.

“This has gone too far, dude,” she says seriously, sitting at the kitchen table across from him.

Steve leans back in his chair, a pack of frozen peas held to his purpling jaw. Robin leans forward, her hands folded together on the table.

"You need to talk to her," she says.

"I can't," he mutters.

"And why the fuck not?"

"Because this is the right thing. This way no one gets hurt."

Robin looks at him like he's the biggest dumbass in the world, and right now he may very well be. "How do you feel right now, huh? Are you not in both emotional distress, but also literally in physical pain over her?" she asks.

Steve looks over at Robin, knowing she's right. He's created this giant excuse, an unexplainable reason to break things off with you. But no matter how much he tries to justify his actions, he knows he's wrong. He knows he's just scared and that's not enough of a reason to push you away.

"If she and I really do this. If we become an actual committed couple, how do I know she won't just leave again?"

"You don't," Robin says, "none of us ever know if the person we love won't just magically get up one day and decide we're not the one."

Steve definitely doesn't want to hear this.

She continues, "But also a million other things could happen too. Like a piano falling from the sky and BOOM - she's dead."

"Robin-"

"Look," she says, "I may not know the future. But I do know that she loves you, Steve. She's been head over heels for you since we were kids. And yeah, you two grew apart, whatever. But I saw the way she looked at you that Christmas at the Wheelers. That poor girl was ready to sit back and wait for you to be single again. And didn't she?"

Robin leans back, eyes narrowing at Steve, "Don't keep her waiting any longer or you might just lose her for good."

Steve weighs Robin's advice and then your words come to mind, begging him to stay with you - telling him you loved him. This was what he wanted all those years ago and he was too blinded by fear to see it. Even when you were right in front of him.

He lowers the frozen peas onto the table and sighs, "I'm such an idiot. A goddamn fucking moron."

Robin smirks and Steve continues, "She hates me now."

"No she doesn't."

"But she thinks I do."

"Hmm. Can't have that."

Steve stands up quickly, knocking the chair back into the wall. Robin winces at the crash.

"I need to talk to her," he says, "like now."

Steve crosses the room to grab his shoes, slipping them on as he organizes his plan, "it's Wednesday. She has study group on Wednesday nights."

He locks eyes with Robin and smiles, "I'm really doing this."

She gives him a reassuring nod. Steve takes a deep breath, rips open the front door, and rushes into the hallway.

"Good luuuuck!" Robin yells out after him as he dashes down the stairs and onto the street.

Steve looks at his watch and groans, the trains run further apart on weekday nights. The next one won't be for another 45 minutes. A taxi pulls onto the street. Steve tries to hail it down, but it drives by. He throws his hands up, annoyed. He weighs his only option to get to your campus. Good thing he wore his sneakers.

The library should be mostly empty at a time like this, but some students linger at the tables, peering into their books and swapping notecards with friends.

You had stepped away from your study group a few minutes ago to grab a law deposition needed for the next class. You roamed the law stacks, your mind elsewhere. The last two weeks have been long, monotonous, and heavy. Your mind is in a constant battle between your pride and reaching out to Steve. Ultimately, pride won every time.

He rejected you outright. Sure, his reasoning was completely flawed, but he still let you walk away again. Maybe you two would never get it right. Timing, feelings, the past - maybe it was all too much to get over. Yet you were so hopeful this time. You really felt like this was it. If Steve would have asked you to be his forever, you would have said yes.

But he didn’t and now you were walking like a heartbroken zombie in the Northwestern library.

Steve runs down the street, weaving past people and cars. A taxi cab honks at him for dashing out in front of it. His hand slams on the hood as he runs by.

He runs onto campus, long legs stretching across the grassy quad to the library. He knows exactly where to go, remembering the nights he helped you study or the time he felt you up in between the bookshelves, hands sneaking under your skirt.

Steve skids around a corner, catching sight of you descending the library steps. You say your goodbyes to your classmates, your cute schoolbag hangs on your back. Steve's heart skips a beat as you turn toward his direction. He breaks into another run to you.

Then he's in front of you, standing a few feet away. His breath ragged and his forehead shiny.

"Hi," Steve says, panting.

"Hi," you let out, confused and slightly entertained by the way Steve braces his hands on his knees, hanging his head to catch his breath. You try not to smile, "did you run here?"

"Mhmm," he mumbles painfully, nodding his head and taking a deep breath.

"That's like 15 blocks," you say in disbelief.

He rises now, standing up straight, back to being taller than you. Steve nods, "it is."

You shake your head, feeling hurt more than anything, "why are you here Steve?"

"I fucked up," he says, plain and true, "I thought being friends would be easier, that neither of us would get hurt. But you were right. We can't just be friends. We never were."

You take a measured breath, trying to calm your rising heartbeat.

Steve continues, "I've been in love with you my entire life. I tried to push you out of my mind, believe me, I spent years trying. When things didn't work out with other girls, I blamed it on the usual things. But I always knew the real reason it never worked out. They weren't you."

Steve can't look away from you as he speaks, "I made the second biggest mistake of my life letting you walk away from me two weeks ago. My biggest was when we were teenagers and I let you walk away the first time. I don't plan on letting you do that ever again.”

He steps closer to you, "I plan on loving you forever. If you'll let me."

You stare back at him, mouth suddenly dry and pulse racing. You shake your head, tears filling your eyes, "of course you would do this."

His face falters as you take a step toward him. "Of course, you would run across the city to say something so, so - perfect."

Steve's eyes widen, hope flooding back into him. His breathing calms with every step you take towards him.

You're overwhelmed with emotion. Eyes watery, cheeks red. You want to be mad at him for breaking your heart and making you hate him oh so much the last two weeks. But, you can't. Not when he's standing in front of you pouring his heart out like he is. His lips pink and pouty, big brown eyes staring expectedly into yours.

Steve catches your eyes as they flicker down to his lips and back up to meet his gaze. A small smile creeps onto his face.

"You make it so hard not to love you," you say.

He steps forward, slowly ending the distance between you. Your pulse quickens.

You nod, "but I do love you, Steve. I really, really do."

He grabs your hip with one hand, the other gently cups the back of your head, pulling your body into his. Steve lowers down, your noses touch and his lips hover lightly above yours. He closes his eyes, pausing for just a moment, before closing the gap and pressing down to kiss you - hard and with purpose, like it's the last thing he'll ever do.

But you both know this won't be your last kiss. It's far from it. You'll have thousands of more kisses in your lifetime with Steve, and this one. This one feels like it's just the beginning.

--------------

a/n: I love the friends to lovers to exes to friends again to lovers trope so much. it's so messy and emotional, I hope that translated through with this!

tags: @httpazxnth@wwylmlive@xaimary@dogstarbytes@micheledawn1975@ortega29@djodirt@ahead-fullofdreams @andvys

#steve harrington #steve harrington angst #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington fanfiction #steve harrington x you #steve harrington fanfic #stranger things #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington one shot

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nicolewritesthings · 3 months ago

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I'm obsessed with your responses to this story literally thank you SOOOO much for reading and interacting with it!!! This story is heavily inspired by my life so maybe it'll mirror that or maybe they'll get a happy ending...stay tuned :))))))

Lost Love

Summary: You and Steve reconnect after years apart, not knowing where you stand after so much love was had and lost.

Steve Harrington x fem!reader, friends to lovers to exes to…?

Part One

Part Two

Part Three

Part Four

Part Five: finale

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nicolewritesthings · 3 months ago

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Lost Love

Summary: You and Steve reconnect after years apart, not knowing where you stand after so much love was had and lost.

Steve Harrington x fem!reader, friends to lovers to exes to…?

Part One

Part Two

Part Three

Part Four

Part Five: finale

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nicolewritesthings · 3 months ago

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Lost Love - blurb

Summary: You and Steve love each other but have too much life ahead of you to make it work

a/n: had the initial break up on my mind, so here’s this little angsty piece. Can be read as a stand alone or a little insert for the Lost Love series

Steve Harrington x fem!reader, short break up angst :(

Summer 1986

The summer air still warms the night, even as the days draw nearer to fall. A night like tonight shouldn’t be this beautiful, you think, looking up at the clear sky. The stars bright and all knowing, ready for the rest of your life to begin.

You and Steve sit on the curb in front of your house. Knees knocking against another just to remind yourselves that you’re there. That you’re really having this conversation. That you’re doing this.

“They have good schools in Chicago,” he says, a last ditch effort to change your mind without blatantly asking you to do that.

“Steve,” you whine, “I made my decision months ago.”

“I know,” was all he could muster, because he did know this was coming. He knew you got into your dream school and would move to New York. Steve was preparing himself for this moment - not enough, clearly, too wrapped up on the perfect summer he had with you. Borrowed time.

But now, hours before you and your parents would set out on a road trip to the east coast, you wish Steve would ask you to stay.

You had made up your mind months ago, when you finally committed to Columbia. You told Steve you were leaving and he was excited for you, really. This was your dream and it wasn’t like you two were really together. Just two young people in love. With the rest of their lives ahead of them. And oh, you were so ready for the next chapter to begin. You wanted to leave Hawkins and all the pain that came with it.

But you weren’t ready to leave him.

“Maybe we can keep this up, you know, I’ll be home for Christmas break,” you said, spitballing at this point.

Steve shook his head, “you’re spending it at your sister’s this year. You told me that.”

“Oh, right,” you hug your knees to your chest, “then I’ll come home for Spring break. That’s only-“

Then Steve’s saying your name, grasping your hands into his. He’s gentle as he holds you, looking into your eyes. You notice how red his eyes look as they begin to tear up.

Steve’s not sure what to say next. He wishes you’d ask him to come with you. He’d move across the world if you’d ask. But you don’t and you wouldn’t, he thinks. This is your dream life you’re about to embark on and you’ve made it clear that you want nothing to do with Hawkins anymore. Not after everything.

So he says what he thinks you want to hear, “You’ll go and I’ll stay.”

You look away from him, the tears forming in your eyes. You suck in your bottom lip as Steve squeezes your hands.

“I’ll always be here,” he continues with a shaky voice, “you know that.”

You suck in a cry, squeezing his hands as you pull him into a deep hug, your actions communicating more than you two ever could.

You’re not sure why you two didn’t make it work that day. Either of you could have said what you were really thinking, what you really wanted. But it would have been too soon. You and Steve have been good for each other, and maybe it’s because you’re too young or because you’ve already been through too much. But it’s not your time and maybe it never will be.

———————

Read the next part here.

a/n: I’m almost done with the final part for Lost Love, so stay tuned for that :)

tags: @httpazxnth @wwylmlive @xaimary @dogstarbytes @micheledawn1975 @ortega29 @djodirt @ahead-fullofdreams

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nicolewritesthings · 3 months ago

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Lost Love - Part Three

a/n: sorry this took a minute! I’ve been deep in Joel Miller fanfic after the recent episode of tlou (biiiiiig Pedro fan). Anyways, please enjoy this next bit of writing :)

Steve Harrington x fem!reader, more angst

Summary: tis the damn season for you and Steve as you try to avoid the past while figuring out the future

———————

December 1991 - Hawkins

The Wheeler house looks straight out of a holiday catalog with its large tree lighting up the front room. Christmas music plays throughout the decorated house and a fire warms up the young guests.

Mike decided to have the gang back together at their parent's place this year. Most of the kids were home for the holidays and desperately needed to see each other after being at school all semester. After running into Dustin outside of your homes, he insisted you come. Nancy ended up calling you that night to extend the invite, explaining that she didn't even know about the party until she arrived that morning.

So there you were, dressed in your festive velvet red dress, sipping mulled wine with Nancy. She tells you about her job at a local newspaper and how she's making more connections at the Boston Globe, her dream company. You fill her in on getting into law school and your decision to move to Chicago. She's excited for you and easily dances around the subject of Steve.

It had been a couple of months since your break up with Peter and when he revealed to you that he and Steve had spoken. You did pick up the phone that night with the full intention of calling Steve. But you never did go through with it. You weren't thinking straight, your emotions were too high, and frankly, you were too scared to face him. So you set the phone down and swore to call him the next day, and the next, and the next. But you never called Steve. Instead, you let the situation sit there and simmer. No questions answered. Just like your relationship had always been with him.

As if the universe was reading your mind, the front door swings open, letting the cold December air in for just a moment. Your back was to the door, so you didn't see who came in. But you quickly started to gather who it was when Dustin cheered and rushed over to greet the guest. You straightened up a bit, building up the confidence to turn around and face the very person who's been tormenting your thoughts for the last couple of months.

His laugh hits your ears as he greets the kids with hugs. Your heart weakens a bit, loving that they all still care about him so much. You turn, wanting to catch the sweet moment.

As you turn around, Steve looks up, catching sight of your familiar hair and pretty red dress. You see each other from across the room, the lights around you softening as you hold his gaze. You feel a familiar tug towards him - something unseen, intangible but still there. He must feel it too because he's quick to give you a small smile. Steve wasn't sure what he'd do if he saw you tonight, but instinct took over with that smile. So you smile back. Two small, knowing smiles in a home filled with too many memories.

Then a young woman appears in the doorway behind Steve. She smiles wide at the kids and slips comfortably under Steve's arm. He breaks his gaze from you and puts all his attention on her.

Steve introduces her to Mike and Dustin, and she's all smiles as she meets everyone. You look away - at your shoes, the Christmas tree. Anything but Steve and this girl.

Luckily, Nancy clutches your arm, spinning you back around to face her. She leans in to whisper, "I'm so sorry. I had no idea he'd be here."

You pull back, shrugging, “it’s all good. Really.” Lie, lie, lie.

Your body practically ached at the sight of Steve and his - what? Girlfriend?

You wanted to peek back at them. See Steve's rosy cheeks and big smile as he paraded her around to meet everyone. Oh god, you thought, you're going to have to meet her too.

Nancy smiled tightly, her voice quick and low, "don't freak. They're coming over here." She waved as you felt two people approach you.

Nancy knew your history with Steve, even the most recent encounter. Somewhat ironically, she was the first to clock that something was going on between you two. After Jonathan moved to California, she and you became closer. Sometimes eating lunch together at school or working on college applications together. She noticed when he’d pick you up after classes got out almost every day or when he’d be at your soccer games, cheering you on alongside your family. She especially noticed when you had like three hickeys on the back of your neck the morning after you told her you were catching a movie with Steve.

Nancy noticed how he changed too, both as a person and his behavior towards her. He was lighter with her, not mopey or awkward. The tension completely dissipated.

Naturally, you and Nancy grew closer when you two were the only ones who moved away from Hawkins. She was there for you during the fallout with Steve, which was why she was shocked that you wanted to say hello to him and his girlfriend, Amanda, who Nancy just met about thirty minutes ago.

Steve's pulse quickened as you turned around to greet them. Your expression was collected, cool, and unreadable. Suddenly feeling vulnerable, he quickly scans the room for your boyfriend but comes up short. Nancy speaks up before he can think too hard about it.

She gives him a quick hug before introducing herself to Amanda who only says her name, waiting for Steve to fill in the rest. The three girls, including yourself, stare back at him. He cracks a smile, recovering from his brief falter, and then says the words you were dreading.

"My girlfriend," he's almost bashful, you think, as he wraps an arm around her.

Girlfriend. A word now seared into your brain, likely to cause inexplicable heart pain every time you hear it now. Girlfriend.

Nothing could have ever prepared you for this moment. You never imagined meeting one of Steve’s girlfriends. It’s not like you didn’t expect him to never date anyone after you, but you never imagined that this situation would be occurring. That was one of the pros of going no contact for so many years - no girlfriends.

“It’s so nice to meet you,” you say, shaking Amanda’s hand with an obligatory smile on your face. You tell her your name and she gives you a knowing smile, "Steve’s told me so much about you guys. It’s great to finally put a face to the name.”

You blink, trying to keep your smile from faltering. God, what has this man said to her about you?

You deliver the perfect cliche, “oh, all good things I hope," and shoot Steve a look, lofting your eyebrows just slightly. He doesn’t miss a beat, sending you the slightest of head nods.

Old habits never die, you think as you quickly fall back into the knowing looks with Steve. The subtle communication only you two could understand of each other.

Amanda laughs, “of course! He was just saying that you’re a lawyer. That’s so impressive.”

You turn back to her, shaking your head, “well, not yet. I just go into law school.”

You can feel Steve’s eyes on you and wonder if he’s thinking about your decision to move to Chicago.

“Are you staying in the city? Or looking elsewhere?” Amanda asks, genuine and annoyingly nice.

Nancy perks up, "she actually just committed to Northwestern."

Steve shifts his gaze to you. But you avoid his eyes, not wanting to see his expression. "Chicago!" Amanda exclaims, "that's so exciting. We'll have to show you around."

He knew that this was a real possibility. Hell, you were the one who told him you wanted to move. But hearing the confirmation was a whole different thing. This was real. You were about to be back in his life whether he liked it or not.

“That would be great,” you say, keeping your attention on her, “what about you? What do you do?”

And then she tells you about teaching and how they met. They’ve been seeing each other for a little over two months. Interesting you think, doing the mental math in your head. You ask about her childhood, family, where she grew up. Steve chimes in here and there, but you can feel the tension radiating off his body as he stands in between you and Amanda.

The night goes on and more of your friends arrive, quickly swapping stories about high school and your collective near-death experiences. You do enjoy yourself, wrapped up in the warm nostalgia of it all. But every time your eyes shift back to Steve and Amanda, an unreasonable bitterness nips at the back of your mind.

You had no right to be jealous, sure, but you could be a little bothered by the whole thing. It doesn't help that she's charming and friendly. Boo.

You’re in the kitchen now, stress-eating the finger foods off a platter on the counter, alone in your thoughts. Tonight would not be a good time to bring up the past with Steve, would it? But when would be a good time? When you're finally living in the same city again? No, it should be sooner. But what would he say?

“That cheese is great-“

You jump, startled by the sudden voice in the kitchen. You turn around and find Steve frowning, worried about your reaction.

He steps forward, “shit sorry. Thought you heard me walk in.”

“I guess I was a little distracted,” you say without really thinking.

Steve notices a hint of bitterness in your tone. You look up, finally meeting his eyes. Both of you pause, lingering in the moment, unsure of what to say next.

For the first time all evening, you two are finally alone together. Everyone else is in the living room playing games, including Amanda who is partnered up with Robin in a very competitive game of charades.

Steve steps to where you’re standing. You suck in a breath as the distance between you two grows smaller. He stands beside you and picks through the cheese platter, completely ignoring the tension in the room.

You want to roll your eyes at him, annoyed at how cavalier he could be during situations like this. So you decide to poke the bear a bit and not ignore the obvious.

“Your girlfriend’s cool,” you say, turning to face the counter like him, your shoulders brushing.

Steve pops a piece of cheese in his mouth letting the silence linger. He wasn’t sure where you were going with this, so he let you lead the way.

You weren’t going to lie to him. You did think Amanda was great and you were not about to be the type of girl to hate her for being with your…whatever Steve was to you.

“So you two met at school?” you ask, genuinely curious and purposefully dancing around the real question you wanted to ask - when did they meet?

Steve smiles, “she’s the first-grade teacher." Of course, she is.

He pauses, not sure if he should say anything but this would be a perfect time to segue into that night. And for whatever reason, Steve couldn’t help himself around you.

“Actually,” he looks at you now, “she was at the bar when I ran into you in September.”

Your whole body tenses. So we’re doing this now, huh?

You catch the cheeky glimmer in his eyes, remembering just how much of a dick Steve could be sometimes.

“You should have introduced us,” you reach for a piece of cheese, “maybe the night would have turned out differently.”

“Yeah maybe if you told me about your boyfriend we wouldn’t have been out all night,” Steve lets out quickly, his emotions getting the best of him.

Now you’re speechless. You never did figure out what you would say to Steve about that phone call. You naively thought you’d never see him again so you wouldn’t have to discuss it.

You drop the cheese and turn your body to face him. He stares down at you, the hint of cheekiness replaced with anger now. He hates that you’re the only one who can rile him up like this.

“I should have told you about Peter that night,” you concede, “I’m sorry.”

Steve falters, not expecting an apology. Before he can think of something to say, you continue, “I guess I was caught up in the moment. I don’t know.”

He looks away, pushing off the counter, “seeing you again was already a shock. But then to find out you had a boyfriend really fucked with me.”

Your stomach aches as Steve admits this all to you. As you finally talk about that night. He doesn’t want to do this now, not with all your friends and Amanda in the other room. But, as usual around you, he can’t control his emotions. The words just flow out of him.

“And finding out about him that way was pretty shitty too,” Steve shook his head, “I mean, hell, do you two live together?”

“We broke up,” you blurt out. The words fly out of your mouth before you can stop yourself.

Steve shifts back, his hands brace the counter as you face him. He looks over your features as if trying to read your mind and you do the same.

You being single, Steve in a relationship - does it even matter? What would you do if you were both single? Steve practically answered that in Chicago when he didn’t know about your boyfriend and you asked him up to your room. And yet he still turned you down and you still had no idea what you wanted from him. So single, taken, it didn’t make a difference.

Before either of you can respond, Robin rushes into the kitchen. She notices the moment between you two but doesn’t think twice to acknowledge it. She loves Steve and wants what’s best for him, and what’s best is Amanda, his girlfriend who’s currently waiting for him in the other room.

Robin yanks Steve’s arm, “I’m tapping out and Amanda’s looking for a new partner.”

Steve holds your gaze for just a moment before shifting his attitude ever so slightly. He smiles at Robin then nods at you, before turning into the living room.

You turn back to the counter, pick up the discarded piece of cheese, and pop it into your mouth. A tense gaze hits you. You turn slightly to catch Robin eyeing you narrowly.

“What’s up, Buckley?” You say casually. Your relationship with Robin has always been this way. Close at times but a one-sided skepticism was always apparent. Then of course when everything ended between you and Steve, you hardly ever spoke to Robin.

She steps closer, “are you really moving to Chicago?” She clocks your surprised reaction.

“Nancy mentioned it,” she clarifies.

You nod, “not until summer.”

Robin sighs, “I’m not going to pretend like I know what the fuck is up with you and Steve, but I do know that he’s happy. Like really doing well and doesn’t need any bullshit in his life - happy.”

“I know,” you say honestly, “I don’t plan on screwing anything up for him.”

Robin wants to tell you that actually, you don’t know. You have no idea what kind of hold you have over Steve. She wants to tell you how messed up he was after seeing you and how you totally derailed his life and can definitely do it again. That’s what she’s worried about. But instead, she saves face.

“Good,” Robin crosses her arms.

You think about what it will look like to live near Steve again and you don’t know why you continue the conversation and say, “we probably won’t see each other much anyway.”

Robin practically scoffs as you say this. She shakes her head, “this is you and Steve we’re talking about. At the very least, he’ll want to be your friend.”

You don’t know what else to say so you nod, thinking about everything. You hoped you could be friends with Steve, but you never were ever just friends with him. There had always been that hint of what if? That possibility of something more.

Laughter and shouts break your thoughts. Dustin’s calling your name to join on the next round. So you push it all aside and follow Robin back into the room with all your friends, and you decide to enjoy being home for the holidays.

———————

A few days later

As the town gears up for the New Year, you help your dad clean up the garage. Your family loves to do a big cleanout before the new year. Help clear out the old and bring in the new.

The manual labor was a much-needed distraction from your mind swirling with thoughts about your future and Steve, and his really cool totally awesome girlfriend. Spending time with your family was also a reminder of other forms of love in your life. You were excited to be closer to them again.

You and your dad stand hunched over the engine of his 1964 silver Mustang. You were helping him fix up something under the hood when the sound of footsteps hit the pavement.

Your dad was the first to see who it was. He steps away from the car, “Steve! Been a long time, bud.”

You brace yourself on the side of the car, pushing off of it to face them.

Your dad and Steve break away from their friendly hug. What the hell is going on?

Steve nods, “I know, I’m sorry! With Dustin moving away for school, there’s not much left for me in Hawkins these days.”

“Did you hear our girl’s moving to Chicago?” Your dad says proudly.

Steve flashes you a smile, taking in your dirty jeans and worn-in sweatshirt. You smile back, raising your eyebrows a bit at him entertaining your dad.

“Yeah, it’ll be great to be in the same city again,” Steve says as you approach the two of them.

You nod, “don’t worry. I won’t bother you too much, Steve.”

He gazes at you, trying to search for another meaning in your sentence. Bother me all you want, Steve wants to say.

The garage door opens. Your mom has the phone in her hand, the cord extended all the way. She spots Steve and smiles, “oh, hi honey! How are you?”

Steve waves, greeting your mom. She calls over your dad, “your sister’s on the line.”

He bids Steve goodbye and rushes into the house after your mom.

You chuckle, wiping your greasy hands on the rag poking out of your jeans. You look up at Steve, “they always ask about you.”

“Oh yeah?” he beams.

You nod, “it’s sweet.”

You turn to the car, walking towards it. Steve watches as your hair sits high in a ponytail, swishing back and forth as you walk. He always liked when you put your hair up.

He follows you to your spot under the hood. Steve eyes the car, “how long have you been working on this?”

“Pretty much all day,” you say, “you know how my dad can get with his cars.”

He smiles, remembering when your dad got you your first car - a used Chevy truck that was cool in theory but broke down on you every other month. You resorted to catching a ride with Steve instead.

Steve helps as you slam the hood shut. You turn to him, “so, what’s up?”

He had almost forgotten why he was there in the first place. Steve puts his hands on his hips.

“When do you move?” He asks.

You nod, “in June. Thought I’d get a head start on apartment hunting near campus.”

Steve looks around, finally coming to peace with your response. He eyes the sun as it begins to set. The birds chirp around you. He nods over to the street, “let’s take a walk.”

You eye him, but ultimately agree, following him down your driveway and into your quiet neighborhood.

Walking these streets with Steve brought back some serious nostalgia. You used to do this all the time. His house only a few blocks away from yours. He’d walk you back to your house at night when it was too dark and you had school the next morning. Or on Saturday mornings, you’d walk to his place and eat breakfast because his parents were already out for the day.

Now the two of you walked side by side, leisurely taking in the old pine trees and suburban homes. Steve straightened his back, clapping his hands together as if prepping himself for what he was about to say.

“I think we should air everything out. You know, before we live in the same place again,” he states.

You shove your hands in your back pockets, what did you have in mind?”

He tilts his head, “well, I’m with Amanda now and everything’s going pretty good.”

You nod as he continues, “and I didn’t tell her about us. You know, our past.

“Oh,” you hesitate. That was a little surprising, but given how nice she was to you, it tracks.

“I didn’t think it was necessary,” Steve says slowly, “I mean, I didn’t really think we’d be in each other’s lives again.”

You look over at Steve, “it’s up to you. But I’m sure it won’t come up in conversation.”

He chuckles, “right. Well, how often do you want to see each other?”

You blink, all the time, preferably. If he’d have you.

“You could show me around? Then we’ll go from there?” You say sheepishly. He and Robin are the only people you really know there, and you don’t think Robin would be the most excited to hang out with you.

Steve smiles, “yeah, yes of course!” He runs a hand through his hair, “sorry. I’m not really sure how to handle all this with you.”

You decide to lighten the mood and bump his shoulder, “neither do I. But, I do know I want to be back in your life.”

He takes in your words and smiles, “me too. Someone you know again.”

You look down, hearing Steve say your words from that night back to you. It feels different this time. Like you’ve got the “what if?” out of the way and can maybe begin to move onto a new part of your relationship - just friendship.

You continue, “and if you’re worried about Amanda, I won’t mess anything up. I promise.”

“Don’t be weird,” Steve eyes you, playfulness in his voice.

You shake your head, “I swear. I’ll be on my best behavior. No weirdness here.”

He knocks his shoulder back against yours. You stumble a bit, taken off guard. Steve reaches out, grabbing your arm to steady you.

You laugh, “easy, Harrington. I get the message loud and clear. No need for intimidation tactics.”

“Funny, really hilarious,” he says, sarcasm dripping off his tone.

You proceed, feeling good, “honestly Amanda is really cool. Like way cooler than you.”

“Oh yeah? Hang out with her then,” he laughs.

“Maybe I will,” you smirk, “what’s her number?”

Steve reaches out and lightly tugs the end of your ponytail out of instinct. You groan, shoving his hands away from you. He puts his hands up in surrender, scurrying up the street a bit.

You laugh, jogging up the street to catch up to him. This shouldn’t be too hard, you think. You’ll be busy with school and he’s got his whole life to focus on. Maybe being friends with Steve Harrington will be easier than you think!

—————

a/n: ahhhhhhhhhhh just friends! What could go wrong! I’m not sure how long this little series will go. But if you’re still interested, I’m already working on the next part :)

tags: @httpazxnth @wwylmlive @xaimary @dogstarbytes @micheledawn1975 @ortega29 @djodirt @ahead-fullofdreams

#steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington angst #steve harrington fanfiction #steve harrington x you #steve harrington fanfic #stranger things #steve harrington one shot

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nicolewritesthings · 3 months ago

Text

Part two of Lost Love

Summary: the repercussions of your night in Chicago finally sink in for both you and Steve + a little flashback to a happier time

a/n: this one was a bit all over the place, but I wanted to give a taste of their relationship back in the day. Hope you like it :)

Steve Harrington x fem!reader, slightly spicy, angstyyyyyyyy for sure

Fall 1985 - Hawkins Steve's car sat by the quiet lake as the full moon hung high in the night sky. Steam clouded the car's windows, the Cure's new album played, lightly covering the noises coming from you and Steve in the backseat.

You sat on his lap, your tights catching on his rough denim jeans. He clawed at your short skirt, hiking it high up your thighs as you pushed down into him. Steve pressed wet kisses into the column of your neck, making your throat hot and red.

You giggled, actually fucking giggled as he did this. Steve of course had something to say about that.

"I've never heard you make that noise," he chuckled into your neck, "who knew you were such a school girl."

"Fuck off," you groaned, pulling back to catch his chin in your hands. He stared up at you, eyes dark and features soft.

You lean back down to kiss him, catching his bottom lip with a tug. Steve moans, grabbing the back of your head and pulling you closer, deepening the kiss.

You moved a hand into his hair, running your fingers through the thick strands. The smell of his shampoo always one of your favorites.

The two of you stayed in the back seat for a while that night, getting to know each other's bodies more and more. You found that your nights with Steve ended like this more often these days. Starting off innocently, chatting about school or the movie you just watched while drinking shakes in the front seat. Then he was driving to the lake or back to his place when his parents weren't home, and you weren't doing much talking anymore.

Steve showed you a whole new part of yourself. One that no other boy took the time to find before. He knew you were less experienced than him, you had told him about how your last boyfriend tried way too hard to have sex with you, it was annoying so you broke up with him. So, he pushed it away from his mind and took whatever you would give him. Honestly, he enjoyed hearing you tell him, "oh, i've never felt this way before" or "no boy has ever done that to me." He loved knowing he was the first and only boy to make you feel this good.

And tonight was no different.

As Steve grabbed at you, underneath your shirt, you pushed further down into him, grinding onto his lap, loving the friction. His thumb grazed over your nipple, pressing it between his fingers as he bit down onto your neck. You let your head hang back, letting out a breathy sigh. Music to Steve's ears.

Heat puddled deep in your gut. A feeling stronger than ever before and you knew what you wanted. Him, there and now.

So you sat up straighter, firmer on his lap and smiled down at him. Steve tilted his head, eyeing your playful smirk.

"I want to do it," you state, "tonight."

"Like sex?" Steve asks, smiling.

You roll your eyes playfully, "yes, like sex."

He looks at you and pauses, eyes softening. You catch something different in his look and can't decipher it, the anticipation in your belly clouding your mind.

But it should have been obvious why Steve was looking at you like that. With soft eyes filled with adoration and lust and mostly something else. Mostly love. Steve had been in love with you for a little while now, and truthfully he couldn't pin point the exact moment. Sometime at the end of summer, he thinks, or maybe it started earlier, when you were the only person he wanted to see at his graduation.

"Not like this," Steve breathed out, the smile still etched onto his face.

But you frowned, suddenly feeling rejected, "what? why not?"

Now he feels his cheeks burn up a bit. Steve gripped your hips, sighing, "your can't lose your virginity in the back of some guy's car."

"Some guy?" you laugh.

He rolls his eyes, "you know what I mean. Just, let me make it special."

"You're such a sap," you joke.

Steve looks back at you. His tone serious, "I'm not kidding. Let me show you what you deserve."

You eye him, taking in his sentiment. The words linger in your mind.

"What about tomorrow night? I'll plan something good," he promises, "trust me."

And he did plan something good. So good you haven't forgotten about it. So sweet that it lingers in your mind nearly five years later.

Present Day - Chicago It had been a whole week since Steve ran into you at the bar, and he couldn't get the night, or you, out of his head.

He thought about you in the morning when he poured his coffee with just a dash of cream, the way you taught him to like it. He thought about you on the train as he looked into the city and imagined you moving there. You were there when he was trying to grade papers or during his university classes or chatting with his coworkers.

Unfortunately, Steve couldn't even get you out of his mind while on a fourth date with Amanda, a cute teacher's aide he worked with.

Steve enjoyed seeing Amanda. She's pretty, kind, loves kids, and easy to talk to. Everything was heading in the right direction until now. Until you.

Instead of flirting or the usual date chat, Steve stares at his drink as Amanda silently eats her plate of pasta. They had made plans at an Italian restaurant because, before tonight, it was a string of more casual dates - coffee, a walk in the park, the movies. But he had hoped tonight their connection could grow deeper, something a little more fancy and then maybe something a little more intimate. Amanda was thinking the same thing and was quite excited about this date, until now. Until seeing Steve completely dejected from reality and staring off into his half-drunk glass of wine.

She eyed him, "is everything okay?"

Steve looked up, remembering where he was and nodded quickly. He sat up a bit, "yeah, yeah. How's your food?"

"Great. I'm glad I got the red sauce," Amanda responded politely.

Steve smiled, wanting to say something else. Something witty or sweet. Something, anything to get them back on track, back to the way they were before he saw you. But he couldn't, instead he just smiled and took a sip from his wine, his mind immediately thinking about you and "want to come up?"

Why would you say that? What possessed you to ask him that?

The rest of the night consisted of awkward silences and polite exchanges. Amanda did most of the talking, but she could sense something was wrong with Steve. So, after dinner, she left him at the restaurant, telling him to call her when he was feeling better. When he's sorted out whatever's been on his mind.

And that really sent Steve reeling, because not only had you been permeating all of his thoughts this week. But you've successfully derailed a potential relationship for him. You are hundreds of miles away and still manage to fuck up his life.

He had to deal with this and take charge of the situation. Naturally, the best option was to call you and get some closure.

So that's exactly what he did.

He stood in his apartment, nervously staring at the scribbled number on the piece of paper Robin gave him. She had given him your number when you moved, just in case he ever wanted to reach out. Now's as good a time as ever.

Then there he was, phone to his ear as the chimes monotonously rang through the speaker, eventually signaling your voicemail tone.

Steve groaned. Guess we're going to leave a message.

With a click, Steve breathed out, "Hi, it's Steve. I think we should talk about what happened the other night. A lot of shitty things were said, but I don't think it should end this way. We should end this way. Uh, yeah, just give me a call and-"

Another click - the phone picked up on the other line.

Steve pauses, thinking you've answered. He calls your name into the receiver, but it's not your voice he hears. It's deeper - a man's voice.

"Hey man, she's not home right now-" the voice says.

Steve scrunches his nose and throws out, "who the hell is this?"

A pause, then, "Peter. Her boyfriend."

A heat rushes through Steve's body, freezing him from head to toe. Boyfriend?

"Look," Peter continues on the other line, "I'm not sure what you think is going on between you two, but it's best you don't call here again."

Steve's shaking his head, still trying to process what the fuck is happening.

"Let me talk to her," Steve says tightly.

"Don't waste your time,” Peter finishes, “she doesn’t want to speak to you, understand?”

Before Steve can respond, the phone clicks and the line is dead.

Boyfriend?

About 700 miles away in your Greenwich studio apartment, Peter sets your phone down and leans on the counter, unsure of what possessed him to do such an invasive thing.

But, he's heard of Steve before. Last year when you were drunk and only seeing each other for about a month, you talked about your first heartbreaks. Peter told you about a college girlfriend who broke his heart while you shyly brought up Steve.

Steve, a boy who had been your best friend in the final years of high school. The boy who understood you deeply. The boy you lost your virginity to. The one you thought you had to let go in pursuit of a better future.

Peter hadn't forgotten Steve's name or what he meant to you, even after you told him that you two don't speak anymore and it was 'no big deal.'

But something in Peter knew to remember him, and he was right.

You came home an hour or so later, after getting drinks with the girls, and were so excited to see Peter on the couch waiting for you.

You didn't tell him about what happened with Steve in Chicago. Almost like that moment and that boy existed in a completely different universe, one where you are a different person too. It was easy for you to justify your decision to keep the interaction from your boyfriend. You hadn't actually slept with Steve and there was no reason to drum up some past drama.

Similarly, Peter decided not to tell you about Steve's message. He was fairly confident Steve wouldn't call you back, and if he did - well then he'd deal with it. But for now, Peter wanted to keep you his and away from the likes of Steve Harrington.

----------------------------------

Back in Chicago, Steve stared at the phone in disbelief. Boyfriend, boyfriend, boyfriend.

Why would you? How could you? Boyfriend?!

While his brain short-circuited, the front door opens and Robin steps into their shared apartment. She starts rambling on about her late night with this one girl that wasn't ending well, until she finally looks up and catches sight of a very distraught Steve.

"You good, dude?" Robin asks, hanging up her coat.

Steve looks up, shaking his head, "I called her."

Robin pauses, immediately knowing he's talking about you.

Steve continues, "but she didn't answer. Peter did."

"Peter?"

"Her boyfriend," he says pointedly.

Robin's eyes widen, the shock evident on her face. The morning after you saw Steve, he gave Robin the entire rundown. So, she knew how monumentally more fucked up this situation just got.

Steve nods, "he basically told me to fuck off."

Robin shakes her head, remembering back to the last time she spoke to you. It was a few months ago and she was careful not to question your dating life, partly because she knew you may not be truthful and partly because she didn't want to know - for the sake of not having to tell Steve.

"This doesn't make sense," Robin says. She sits at the counter with him, and speaks quickly now, "maybe it's not that serious. Maybe they're new."

"He answered the phone. Fuck, maybe they live together," Steve groans, rubbing his face.

A flush of heat rushes through Steve’s body as he processes the information. Boyfriend? You had a boyfriend? One that you failed to mention at any point of the night? Sure, he didn’t tell you about Amanda, but they weren’t exclusive and he definitely wasn’t someone’s boyfriend. The thought that you could be in a relationship didn’t even cross his mind.

He wasn’t sure what to do with this information or how it made him feel. Steve sort of felt like you were his again for the night. The flirty touches, the dancing, asking him to come up.

“She invited me up to her room, Robin,” he stated, like saying out loud made it real.

Robin looked at him sadly. Steve frowned, “why would she do that? If she has a boyfriend why would she…”

He trailed off, genuinely trying to understand your stream of thought.

“I’m sure she has her reasons,” Robin says.

Steve doesn’t respond, instead reeling over why you would act the way you did with him while having a boyfriend. He lets his mind wander to a selfish place, that you still loved him or at least wanted him more than your actual boyfriend.

Then he thinks about this person you've become. The one who would cheat on their partner. The type of person to use him as a pawn in all this.

A bitter taste crept up his throat, a bodily reluctance to thinking you could be so cruel. As his mind wandered deeper, he realized something that didn't make him mad or confused, but feel sad. He realized that he couldn't understand you anymore. That the days of knowing every facet of your mind were gone, and truthfully may have been gone for a while now.

Steve used to know everything about you. The way your eyebrows furrowed together when you didn't like someone. When your body literally buzzed after too much tequila. He knew your favorite places to eat and how you took your coffee. Steve knew what your morals were and your priorities. He knew the sound of your breath slowing as you fell asleep or when it picked up as he pressed into you, lips hot on your neck. He knew you prided yourself on loyalty and were ambitious to a fault.

Now Steve had no idea why you would threaten your relationship with a one-night stand.

Peter's warning went through Steve's mind again and he knew he should just let it rest. It wasn't his problem. You weren't his problem anymore.

But, when has Steve Harrington ever let something just slide by?

Steve picks up the phone again and begins to redial. Robin quickly pulls the phone away from him, "what are you doing?"

"Calling her back," Steve says matter-of-factly, "we have to get to the bottom of this."

"Nope, can't let you do that," Robin says, fully yanking the phone out of Steve's grasp. He reaches for it, but she holds still.

He gives Robin a pointed look, "that douchebag isn't going to tell her I called. Which is another fucked up layer to this whole mess."

"And what are you going to say to her?"

"I'm gonna ask why she didn't tell me about the boyfriend," Steve states firmly.

Robin nods, "oh yeah? While she's in the same room as him? That'll put her in a great situation."

"Fine. Then I'll say we should talk when he's not around," he pauses, really thinking this through, "or maybe-"

“Steve, come on,” Robin pulls the phone away again. She continues sternly, “why are you pressing this?”

He eyes her. She sighs, “you don’t talk to the girl in years and all of a sudden she’s derailed your whole life.”

“She hasn’t derailed anything,” he retorts, trying to convince himself more than Robin.

“Didn’t you have a date tonight?”

Steve eyes her, “yeah. It went great.”

“Oh really? Then why are you here and not at Amanda’s place? Thought you were gonna seal the deal,” she points out.

He stays silent, knowing Robin was right. He very much let you get inside his head.

“I’m just angry,” Steve admits, “that she could do something like this.”

Robin shakes her head, “life’s complicated. She’s clearly going through some shit, so let her be. That’s all you can do.”

He nods, knowing that again, Robin was right on the nose. You weren’t actively in Steve’s life anymore, so who was he to judge your actions when he knew nothing about your relationship.

RING, RING, RING.

Then the phone's ringing in Robin's hands. She shoves it towards Steve, his eyes wide. "Answer it!" she screams.

He pushes it back toward her, "no!"

"It could be her or worse," Robin whispers, "Peter!"

Steve frantically picks up the phone, but it's not your voice on the other line. It's Amanda, saying she wants to talk about their night - why it was off.

Steve’s first instinct is to tell her that it’s not a good time and that he’ll call her back. But a selfish thought nags at the back of his mind. You aren’t his problem anymore.

She won’t derail my life.

So he tells Amanda he’s coming over to explain everything. Then he’s turning to Robin, telling her that she’s right and that he needs to forget about you once and for all.

Steve shrugs on a jacket and is out the door, slowly descending to the lobby and onto the street, walking to Amanda’s apartment. The whole time he thinks about you, the years he had with you, Peter, and that damn night.

Then he's face to face with Amanda, who's telling him she likes him and that she thought he felt the same, but tonight was so weird.

The wind rustles around them, and Steve looks up past Amanda's sweet face at the trees. He takes a moment to think about it all. Why he's so obsessed with knowing your reasoning? Is it pride? Does he still have feelings for you? Why does he even care? You two haven't spoken in years before this.

You have a boyfriend and a life in New York. Seeing each other was purely coincidence, Steve thinks, and you only wanted to relive the past. Hook up with an old fling, he assured himself. Nothing more.

So, Steve decides to leave it in the past. Maybe this was the closure he needed. To see you for one more night and realize that leaving you in the past was for the best. He could start to move on now.

Steve looks back down at Amanda and sees a way to move on. He closes his eyes and kisses her, stepping into the future and away from you.

-------------------------------------

Two Weeks Later - Manhattan

It's been three weeks since you saw Steve in Chicago and finally, the pain in your gut has subsided just a bit. The headache still runs strong though.

You've replayed your argument over and over again in your mind. Meanwhile, your subconscious has been throwing you dreams of him almost every other night. You're used to Steve popping up in your dreams from time to time in the last few years. Your more eclectic friend says its unresolved tension between the two of you. Understatement of the century.

You were also incredibly rattled with guilt, feeling awful for almost cheating on Peter and for hurting Steve in the process.

But fuck Steve for acting so righteous that night. Like he wasn't dancing with you at the club until four in the morning or holding your hand on the street. Yes, you were angry, mostly at the fact that he could still make you feel this way. All riled up over Steve Harrington.

There were bigger issues to deal with here. Like the fact that you were thinking about Steve more than you were Peter.

After three weeks of contemplation and consideration, you thought it best to break things off with him. You assured yourself you weren't ending a perfectly good relationship because of Steve. Rather, it was because you shouldn't be in a relationship so easily threatened. It wasn't fair to you or Peter.

Deep down you knew this was always the way your relationship was going to end. You'd move away to law school and he'd stay in New York and marry an Upper West Side elite his mother set him up with. Not you, some girl from small-town Indiana.

So, you ended it with Peter. Keeping a level head and a calm tone, you broke it off while he stared back at you, a hint of understanding on his face. Like he had almost been expecting it.

"He called back, didn't he?" Peter asked.

You looked back at him, genuinely confused, "what?"

He sighed, "Steve." You shake your head, the splitting headache coming back instantly. Peter continues smugly, "you don't have to lie to me anymore. It's all out there now."

"Peter, I really don't know what you're talking about," you get out.

"Really? Because when he and I spoke on the phone a few weeks ago, he had a lot to say about when you saw him in Chicago," he explains bitterly.

Steve called? They spoke?

Peter starts to get up, but you grab his arm and look up at him, "nothing happened with him. I swear."

But you didn't know if you were saying it for Peter's sake or your own. Like you couldn't admit to yourself what you almost did that night. What you wanted to do.

He gently shrugs off your hand and frowns, "It's fine. Like you said, we never really had a future together."

Then Peter leaves your apartment, and while you should be wallowing over your breakup, all you can think about is Steve and how he called you.

So you stumble off your couch and into the kitchen, reaching inside your junk drawer for your phone book. You flip through the pages to find Robin’s number. The one you knew she shared with Steve. The number only she called you from because you both knew not to risk Steve picking up instead. But this time that was exactly what you wanted.

***************

Like all good situationships, you're never single at the same time...speaking from painfully annoying life experience.

Part Three coming soon! Let me know if you want to be tagged :)

#steve harrington #steve harrington angst #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington fanfiction #steve harrington x you #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington fluff #stranger things #steve Harrington one shot

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nicolewritesthings · 4 months ago

Text

Lost Love

Summary: You run into Steve after years of not seeing each other Steve Harrington x fem!reader, 4.3k, angsty, exes, one shot

Read part two here

Series Masterlist

okay, this is angsty, but I recently ran into an ex and for a fleeting moment saw what my life could have been and was inspired by that what if. Instead of acting on these rash feelings, I wrote about it! also, go listen to The Crux!!!!!!!!!!

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Chicago, Fall 1991

The city bustled around you. A slight chill nipped at your exposed neck as the wind picked up. You walked down the street, heeled boots clicking against the pavement as you made your way to the bar.

You were in town for the weekend on a work trip, accompanying one of the law partners to the Chicago office to oversee a merger. You were not even a year out of college and were already looking into law school, specifically one in Chicago.

While you loved living in New York, you had already spent four years of school there and were looking for a change. Moving closer to home would be nice too—only a short drive to Hawkins from the city. Yeah, you thought, being closer would be nice, which was such an odd sentiment given that just five years ago you couldn't get out of Hawkins fast enough.

Who could blame you though, after everything that happened to your little town and your friends? God, you haven't spoken to anyone in a long time. You saw Nancy up in Boston here and there. Occasionally spoke to Robin on the phone, but that was really it. Even when you came home for holidays, you rarely had time to see anyone besides your family who came out to visit you more than anything.

They knew you didn't love to be home, partly because of what happened and partly because of him. Because of Steve.

You two ended things before they really got started. Two kids way too afraid to really admit how much they felt for each other, too scared to commit to one another.

When you tell new friends about your past relationships, you usually keep it light when it comes to Steve. Chalking it up as a friends-with-benefits type of thing or it was never that serious. But that couldn't be farther from the truth. You two shared an immense amount of trauma that no one could begin to understand, and that ultimately led you two apart.

Steve was a constant reminder of a past you were so ready to let go of. So that's exactly what you did. You let him go. You left Hawkins after graduation, moved to Manhattan early, started school at Columbia, and never looked back.

You've come a long way, graduating with honors and clerking at a prestigious firm. Your boss tells you that getting into law school will be a breeze and that you'd have your pick. Chicago has great schools and is an even better place to practice business law, so it seemed like the obvious choice to explore your options there.

You walked into the dive bar, meeting the other clerks also dressed in business attire, quickly falling into a comfortable stride with them. This was who you were now and this could be your new life here. But something picked at you, like a soft scratch or gentle tug coming from just 200 miles south of here.

The night went on as you learned about the other young people at the firm, where they were attending school or applying. Northwestern sounds great or even the University of Chicago, all great choices really.

It was easy getting along with them. You talked about work, new artists they've listened to, movies they've seen, their love lives. One of them is newly engaged, the other just had a monumental breakup, and then they turn to you.

So you tell them about Peter, your boyfriend of just over a year. How kind and smart he is, how he's a finance guy but not the kind on Wall Street, he's a lot more relaxed than that. He's from Manhattan, his parents come from old money - whatever that means, you always thought. You think of his light blue eyes and his sweet smile, what you'd be giving up if you moved away. Even though he told you there was money to be made in Chicago.

You liked that you could see a future with Peter. That certainty was refreshing, something you never had before.

After everyone insists on another round of drinks, you follow to the bar, slipping onto an empty stool. You lean over to order your drink and turn back to your friends. That's when you see him. Like a ghost at the other end of the bar.

You freeze, it can't be him. It can't be Steve.

But that's his hair, tamer now but still big. Then comes his laugh as he smiles with some people you don't recognize.

The bartender places your drink in front of you, breaking your trance. You quickly look at your drink and pick it up, taking a long sip. What is he doing here? Does he live here now? Does he see you? Oh shit, oh shit.

You look up and he's gone from his place at the bar. Oh no.

You would be lying if you said you hadn’t thought about this moment before, seeing Steve after years of not speaking. You imagined it quite a bit actually. How you’d tell him about your new life and how happy you were. You thought you’d have more control in this situation, and feel more confident and less like a floundering fish.

Then you feel a warm hand on your shoulder and your body is turning toward Steve before your mind can catch up. You look up at him, his smile wide and eyes happy.

"No fucking way," Steve beams, reaching his arms around you.

You can't even compute what's going on, but again your body moves before you can think and you're hugging him back. His scent hits you like a train, the familiar smell of fresh linens and pine.

You play off his positive, light attitude, "Steve, wow, it's great to see you."

He smiles, "what are you doing here? Did you move?"

"No, no," you shake your head and gesture to the group of business casual people around you, "I'm here for a work thing."

"I thought I spotted a shit ton of lawyers," Steve jokes. He was so good at this, making light of everything. Making every situation comfortable and easy, even when it shouldn't be. You hated that about him and were jealous of that trait too.

"Lawyers to be," you smiled, taking a long sip of your drink. You never needed tequila more than at this moment. You look back up at him, “what about you? What are you in town for?”

“Oh, I live here now,” he smiles widely, “I’m studying to teach while working at a local middle school.”

Well, that hit you like a ton of bricks. Steve Harrington moved? Out of Hawkins? But then the rest of his words register, and you’re overcome with happiness for him.

You clap his shoulder proudly, “that’s amazing! Actually, that’s so perfect for you.”

“Took babysitting those kids to a whole new level,” he laughs.

You nod, “I totally see it though. Really, I’m so happy for you.”

Steve beamed, “look at the two of us. Grown ups now. Who woulda thought.”

You laughed, relaxing a bit. He was always good at that, making a conversation easy and light. Feeling bold, you nod over to the bartender.

“Let me buy you a drink,” you smiled at Steve, “you know, to celebrate.”

He happily obliged, sitting down at the bar next to you, kicking off the start of a long night of catch-up.

It’s funny, how time can feel so irrelevant with the right person. You hadn’t seen Steve in almost four years and yet it was like no time has passed.

But that’s what happens with old friends, former lovers. The connection will always be there if it’s right.

The conversation was polite at first, covering the basics. How were the kids? Your parents? Is Manhattan really that great? Hopper still the Chief? They rebuilt the mall? You two went on and on about your mutual connections. After all, there was a lot to cover in the last few years.

Then your friends started to trickle out and Steve’s too, but you two stayed, moving over to a booth - quieter, more intimate. The conversation became more familiar then. It was like you were back at the diner, gossiping over milkshakes and burgers. Just the two of you and your opinions about anything and everything.

The Terminator sequel was better than the first. You’re into baseball now? The Yankees, really? No way you saw the Stones at an underground show, no way.

Then you were inviting him to New York, telling him there’s so much going on there with its music and art and people. Steve gushed about Chicago and how you were right, that living in the city really was the best thing to do.

So you told him that you were looking at law schools in Chicago, considering moving back to the Midwest for good. And for the first time since he saw you that night, Steve felt those past feelings come up. The ones he tried to repress and put away for the night, for the sake of seeing an old friend. But now you could move here, to his home and that thought scared him.

But Steve didn’t falter, instead, he listened as you told him your plans and how everything was so up in the air. You were excited, he could tell, and it was contagious. So he suggested taking you to his favorite deep dish place a couple blocks away. If you were considering moving to Chicago, you had to try the best pizza the city has to offer.

So of course you went with him, not even considering checking the time. Although you knew it had to be past midnight by now.

The pizza place was packed with late-night eaters, which overwhelmed your senses. Steve grabs your hand as you push past the crowded doorway to the tiny shop, guiding you to the line.

That was the first familiar touch of the night. You two didn’t even realize you were still holding hands in line, distracted by the crowded room.

Then it was swapping pizzas, Steve insisting on you trying his spicy pepperoni slice. You looked up at him and he was already holding up the slice for you to take a bite out of it. The interaction seemed casual to you, but Steve couldn’t help but let his eyes flicker down to your pink lips for just a moment.

After a couple of more hours of catching up over pizza and beer, Steve was walking you back to your hotel. Both of you slightly tipsy, most of the buzz already soaked up by the greasy pizza.

You were freezing, not prepared for the wind chill, and Steve noticed your shivering. Without any hesitation, he wrapped an arm around your shoulder and pulled you in. His pine scent makes you woozy again.

But you didn’t move. Instead, you leaned further into his side, grateful for his warmth and the familiarity of it all. Another mindless touch, one that you’ve exchanged so many times before. This time, you couldn’t help but feel the pull towards him, the unspoken connection between you two that you had believed ceased to exist.

It’s funny how time doesn’t work like that. Because no matter how many years go by, feelings never really go away. Where would that love go? That lost love. The untested love that never really got a chance to go somewhere. It doesn’t just go away. It lingers and stews until a moment like tonight when two former lovers randomly reunite.

You two walked down the empty street, huddled closely together. From a passerby, you two look like a young couple that’s been together for a long time now. Then came the music blasting from a club a couple of doors down. The line to get in was short, but people were still heading in.

A New Order track hit your ears and you immediately turned to Steve who was already laughing, knowing you loved this song and this band and to dance. So he didn’t even scoff when you pleaded with him, “just one song! Please!” Steve feigned reluctance, as you grabbed his hand and pulled him into the packed dance club.

And there you two were, after five more songs, dancing your hearts out. Like it was prom again and you two were the most embarrassing (and high) students on the dance floor. This time you were two fully grown 20-somethings, mostly sober and having the time of your lives. An unexpected turn of events to say the least.

So you inched closer to Steve as the familiar 80s synth raged on. The disco lights flashed in and out, casting most of the floor in a dark fluorescent purple hue. Steve watched as you swayed your body, noticing your fuller hips and sweet smile. He couldn’t bring himself to look away as you turned around, your ass looking too good in the tight skirt you were wearing. Fuck, you looked good. With your knee-high boots and off-the-shoulder top. For the first time tonight, he realized that you looked older now too, or at least acted like it. You moved your body confidently, knowing exactly what you were doing with those new curves of yours.

Steve cursed himself for missing so much of you.

You caught him staring, of course, you did. You had always known when men looked at you or when a man wanted you. So when you caught a glimpse of Steve’s hooded eyes, you should have suggested calling it a night.

But you didn’t.

You grabbed his hand, pulling him in to close the gap between you, and really danced with him, your body pressed to his. Steve’s hands find your waist as you peer up into his eyes, and he recognizes that cheeky glimmer. Frankly, he missed seeing it. That little look you’d give him when you wanted something from him. But you didn’t even realize you were doing it. You never did. It was a tell only Steve recognized, and that was dangerous.

Steve should have wondered then if you were single and that’s when you should have finally brought up your boyfriend. But the possibility of significant others was so far from your mind the entire night, especially when you were pressed together in a dance club.

It was always like this with you and Steve. Monogamy was never brought up because it was always implied. There was no room for anyone else in your hearts when you were together and honestly, you didn’t want anyone else. Steve tried to date other girls just for the sake of it, but no one ever measured up to you. So he waited patiently for those quiet moments together in his bed or the back seat of his car when you let him in.

Was this one of those moments? Was this always how the night was going to turn out for you two? Under the disco lights, the possibility of reconnecting on a whole other level. Again, this logic was the furthest thing from your mind. All you and Steve wanted to do was be with each other in this moment, this rare moment an unexpected gift from the universe.

The bar flashed its house lights to indicate the night was coming to a close, but neither of you wanted it to end. So Steve enclosed your hand in his and you two stumbled out onto the street again, slowly trekking to your hotel.

Steve wrapped his arm around you again, tighter now, breathing in your scent. The same light floral perfume your mom gifts you. He smiled, remembering the bottle on your nightstand when it almost broke after he pushed you into the dresser during a little more rough and needy hook up. The bottle nearly fell, but he was quick to catch it and yet you didn’t even notice, too busy pulling him onto the bed.

Oh, how he missed you. Your smile, your humor, the way you said all the right things, how you two could talk about anything and everything.

“It’s funny,” Steve pulls you in closer, “how we bumped into each other tonight.”

You nod, “I know. Of all the bars in Chicago, we happened to be in the same one. At the same time.”

“I’d say it’s fate,” he bumps you lightly.

“I agree,” you smile, “it feels like the universe is trying to tell us something.”

Steve bites his lip, nervous to take this step but it just feels natural. He smiles, “maybe it thinks we should be in each other’s lives again. In some way or another.”

It’s music to Steve’s ears when you reply, “I’d like that. To be someone you know again.”

He pauses at this, suddenly saddened by your words. Steve stops walking, pulling you with him, and looks down at you. His eyes fill with sincerity as he shakes his head, “you know me. You know me better than anyone else.”

His words send you reeling. Taken aback, you look up at him, “we haven’t spoken in years. Shit, I didn’t even know you moved, Steve.”

But he doubles down, his hand gripping your arm gently, “sure, but I wouldn’t be who am today without you.”

How could he be so kind, after everything? Maybe he wasn’t angry or upset with you anymore, and maybe you shouldn’t be either. Maybe you two could move forward from this.

Then Steve’s looking at you, really looking. His eyes memorize every feature of your face, noticing how you’ve changed but only slightly. His fingers trail up to your cheek to move the strand of hair behind your ear and you have to steady yourself from this touch. Another familiar and way more intimate touch.

You look over his face too, how there’s a shadow of stubble on his chin that wasn’t there before. How his face is thinner, more mature now. How his eyes are still the same shade of honey brown you loved. Time was a wicked thing, and you’d be damned if you wasted any more of it.

So you pull back, looking over at the doors of your hotel, and taking a step up the stairs toward the lobby. You hold Steve’s hand, enticing him to follow. He stands there, looking up at you, lips turned up into a slight smile.

Then the words spill out of your mouth before logic can stop you, “want to come up?”

Your hand lingers in his as he gazes up at you. Steve’s expression is breathless, eyes soft as he contemplates your question. The insinuation hits a nerve, deep in his chest. He’s not in shock that you’d ask such a thing, honestly, he was expecting the night to end this way. The two of you wrapped up in each other just like old times.

But, instead of accepting your invitation, his first instinct is to pause. His second is anger.

It bubbles up out of nowhere, emotions he’s repressed over the years of not seeing you. How dare you pop back into his life and think it’s this easy to get him in bed again. He has a life now without you in it and here you are steamrolling through like you own the place. Like you’re entitled to him.

Steve recoils, breaking his hand away from yours. His gaze now hardens as he shakes his head, “are you serious right now?”

You shift back, bringing your hand down to your side, it still tingles from his touch. “Steve, I thought-”

He cuts you off, piling on, “you don’t just get to show up here and act like everything’s normal. Like I’m some old fling you screw on vacation.”

You flinch at his version of events. Is that what he thinks he is to you? An old fling?

Now you start to get angry, frustrated at his sudden aggression. You shake your head, “that’s not what’s happening here. I haven’t seen you in years and-”

“Yeah, well whose fault is that,” Steve mutters, bitterness not looking good on him.

You swallow harshly, “it certainly wasn’t just mine. Don’t act like you didn’t have a hand in it.”

He throws his hands up in the air. “You left!” Steve yells, “you made your decision and ran away to New York!”

“It’s not like you tried to stop me!” You’re yelling now too, on the steps of the upscale hotel your company is paying for, but you don’t care. The conversation you’ve envisioned dozens of times is finally coming to fruition and you are losing control.

Steve steps up to your level, the height difference more evident as he looks down at you.

“You said you couldn’t do it anymore, that you needed to move on and that meant from me too,” his eyes narrowed at you.

Your cheeks were hot now and probably red, but you continued on, “I was always going to leave Hawkins, you knew that and still did nothing. I felt like you gave up! Like you were fine just letting me go!”

“What was I supposed to do? Stop you?”

“You could have come with me!”

Steve pauses, hurt flashing across his face. “Now that’s not fair,” he breathes out, “how was I supposed to know you wanted that? You said you wanted a clean break!”

He was right. You hadn’t voiced that desire for him to follow you because you hadn’t known that was what you wanted. But now you knew, you knew that you should have asked him to come with you and start your life together. Frankly, he can’t put this all on you. If he cared so much, he would have tried harder to be with you. Told you to stop being stupid and let him love you.

“I was wrong! I was dumb and angry, but you didn’t even put up a fight!” Your voice still raised.

It’s all out there now and Steve knows it. He shouts, “you expected me to drop everything? After what we just went through?”

“Yes!” You breathe out, exhausted from the vulnerability. But you had to tell him how you felt.

Steve looks at you, his chest rising and falling as he steadies his breathing.

“I was scared,” he states quietly.

You sigh, “yeah, well so was I.”

Now at a stalemate, you look at each other. Not sure what to say or do from here. All that time wasted and for what? If only you had communicated things better, maybe you’d have an entirely different life. One with Steve still in it.

“Look,” he took a step down toward the sidewalk, “maybe you were right. Maybe we shouldn’t see each other.”

Your chest tightens, your stomach dropping at his words. The same way you felt a few years ago when you first broke it off.

So you let your pride get the better of you and nod at his words. Maybe you had been right, maybe you didn’t need each other after all.

“Yeah, maybe,” was all you could say without your emotions overwhelming you. You could feel your throat tightening, your eyes glassy.

Steve of course notices as your eyes redden and your arms cross against your chest, hugging yourself tightly. He hated making you feel this way, but he had to protect himself. Following you up those steps into your hotel room would send him down a path he wasn’t sure he was ready for.

He had felt similarly after you graduated and told him you were moving away for school. Steve wasn’t ready to make such a life-changing decision, not after everything that just happened. He needed normalcy and comfort, not to fall head first for you. So he didn’t protest and he let you leave, brokenhearted and angry.

Steve looks up at you and nods, more at himself than to you, “take care.”

Then he was turning down the street, walking away. Leaving you alone and cold as the city quieted down into the early morning hours. The faint sounds of the train and a garbage truck drown out the thump of your heart beating.

You breathlessly wander into the hotel lobby before you can watch him turn the corner, disappearing forever.

The bright lights of the elevator sober you up a bit, letting your emotions sink in. You were angry, definitely angry. Why was he allowed to be the only victim in this? If he really loved you he would have fought harder. Right?

You push into your quiet hotel room, the bed untouched.

After all these years, he managed to still make you feel so intensely and he clearly harbored the same sentiment toward you.

If this was the universe’s way of giving you closure, it was a fucked up attempt. You were reeling more than ever now.

As you discard your clothes and change into pajamas, you eyed the alarm clock - it was almost 4 am. God, where did the time go?

You notice a flashing red button on the room’s phone. Pressing it to reveal a voicemail, your boyfriend’s voice coming onto the line. Fuck, Peter.

In the chaos of the night, you had forgotten to give him a call. Truthfully, you hadn’t thought about him since the moment you saw Steve.

Then a cold wave of regret hits you as you listen to his message. His sweet tone saying, “hey, it’s not too late here so you’re probably out and about, but I just called to say goodnight and that I love you. Hope you’re having fun! Talk tomorrow, bye.”

You lay back on the bed, throwing your hands over your face as the tears finally come.

You had invited Steve up to your room.

Not even stopping to consider your nice boyfriend back in New York. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Read part two here!

#steve harrington #steve harrington angst #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington fanfiction #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington one shot

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nicolewritesthings · 4 months ago

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Happy The Crux day to all who celebrate!!!!

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nicolewritesthings · 4 months ago

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“Sometimes you realise that true love in its absolute form has many purposes in life. It’s not actually just about bringing babies into the world or romance or soul mates or even lifelong companionship. The love we had in our past, unfinished, untested, lost love, seems so easy, so childish to those of us who choose to settle down. But, actually, it’s the purest, most concentrated stuff.” Modern Love (S01E02)

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nicolewritesthings · 4 months ago

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Love potions & babies

Summary: Steve thinks his witchy girlfriend put a spell on him, so he crashes her babysitting gig

a/n: had some free time today and this idea came to me! Just a one shot with boyfriend steve.

Two dumb, horny teenagers in love; Steve Harrington x reader

—————————————————————————

Fall was your favorite time of year, especially in Hawkins, when the leaves turned and the air chilled.

You were always into the macabre, the occult things, partly because your mom fully believed in psychics and astrology, and partly because you found it funny when Steve called you his little witch.

This sentiment came out more during the fall of course, when your “witchiness” was at an all time high.

You made Steve watch all your favorite horror movies and read your favorite ghost stories. You told him the cycles of the moon and he even learned his birth chart, well he had it written down in his wallet in case you quizzed him.

He loved this spooky little side of you that not many people saw. To everyone else you were the typical girl next door, cheerleader - which really through Steve for a loop, the town’s best babysitter.

Which is what you were doing Friday night instead of hanging out with Steve. You were watching the Conrads’ six month old baby while they went on a date night.

They had a nice house at the end of your block. Big tv, tons of movies, and endless snacks, a babysitter’s dream. Their baby, Elsie, was the easiest baby you’ve ever watched. She fussed when she was hungry or tired but that’s about it.

So the two of you played on the family room floor while reruns of Bewitched ran on in the background. Witchy, yet family friendly.

Over at the video store, Steve was listening to Robin vent about her latest interaction with Vickie.

“She’s nice, but not like nice nice to me,” Robin rambled on, “like only nice in a friend way.”

Steve scrunched his eyebrows together, “are you also being nice to her in a friend way?”

Robin paused, genuinely stumped by this question. She goes back to think about their interactions and groans, “maybe. Shit, should I flirt with her? Or is that coming on too strong?”

“Just do whatever comes natural,” Steve smiled, “she’ll get the hint.”

She stared at him, dumbfounded, “not everyone can flash their smile at a girl and make her swoon, Harrington.”

“I smile at one girl only, thank you very much,” he leaned back, crossing his arms.

“Whatever, this is never going to work and I’ll die alone,” Robin huffed dramatically.

Steve tilted his head, thinking about you and your books and fake magic. “What if you do a love spell?” He asked, half joking, half serious.

Robin eyed him, “your girl is really rubbing off on you, dude.”

Steve shrugged, “I’m just saying, this manifestation stuff works. She wanted more money to buy concert tickets and then she gets a baby gig. Or like the time she really didn’t feel good about the chem exam and boom, the teacher postpones it.”

He’s elated now, thinking of all the times you used your witchy powers to make things happen for yourself. He knows it sounds ridiculous, but because you believe it, so does he.

Robin smirks, “is that how she got you then? A love spell?”

Steve pauses. He had never considered that possibility. That would be crazy, wouldn’t it? Spells don’t work and magic isn’t real. But you did really want those Stones tickets and by the grace of god you got them.

He leans against the counter, arms crossed as he contemplates how you two got together. It all seemed pretty normal, you had been helping your neighbor Dustin when his little “pet” turned into a demidog. Next thing you know, you and Steve were stuck in a school bus with a bunch of kids you used to be babysit, fighting a pack of otherworldly creatures.

You knew this spooky shit was real.

Then you were paired with Steve as lab partners which led to a whole semester of bickering and watching those damn kids. He didn’t know exactly when his feelings for you turned from platonic to something more. But as his graduation approached, your actions toward each other progressed past friendly.

Stolen glances over homework, study sessions turned into late night burger runs, movie nights with the kids, cuddling when they all fell asleep. Consoling him when he didn’t get into a single college and talking over what his future could look like, how he had so many possibilities.

A small part of you was glad Steve wasn’t moving away from Hawkins any time soon. You got another year with him, which is selfish you knew that. But you had more time to simply just be with him, in whatever way that was.

Then summer came and it was hotter than usual. While plenty of memorable things happened that summer, Steve shamelessly can only remember your bright red bikini straps, pushing them to the side and rubbing tanning oil on your already sunkissed shoulders. The smell of coconut and chlorine still fresh in his memory.

You spent the whole summer at either his pool or at the mall while he worked, not wanting to be apart for more than a few hours.

The more Steve thought about this, the more it started to sound like you did put a spell on him. But no, that was just your charm, the way you always had a light touch on him, your damn Cherry red bikini.

Then the thing with the Russians happened and the mindflayer came crashing in and Billy died and the worst night of your lives came to an end. He drove you to his place where you patched him up and climbed into bed together, barely talking and still stunned from the events of such a long couple of days.

Steve thinks that if you were to cast a spell on him it would have happened then. In his bed, you wearing nothing but his shirt and boxers, pressed into his side, limbs tangled up in one another. You looked up at him with those big eyes and told him you loved him. You weren’t sure if you meant it platonically or something more but Steve didn’t care. He knew exactly what you meant because he felt it too. In the face of almost losing you, he knew he was in love and couldn’t resist any longer. So he cupped your face into his hands and leaned down, kissing you like you’d melt away if he wasn’t holding on. Kissing you like it’s the last thing he’d ever do.

Steve snapped back to reality and looked at Robin, eyes wide, “oh fuck maybe she did cast a spell on me.”

———————

Back at the Conrads house, you handed blocks over to Elsie as she threw them down beside her. The sun had started to set but she was still wide awake. Maybe this baby was going to be harder than you thought.

You stood up to make another bottle just as the doorbell rang, causing you to jump. You eyed Elsie like she would know who would be knocking.

You checked the peephole, finding your boyfriend going for another knock. You smirked, opening the door, “well well, couldn’t spend one night away from me, could you?”

Steve gives you a quick peck on the cheek and lets himself in. You sense a bit of panic from him as he paces into the front room.

“Did you put a spell on me?” He blurts out.

You stare at him, confused, shutting the door slowly. Elsie babbles from the floor next to him. Steve looks down quickly, almost shocked at the baby’s presence. Like he forgot why you were in your neighbors’ home.

He cracks a polite smile at Elsie, “oh, hey, how you doing?”

You laugh at his pleasantries, acting as if he’s talking to an adult and not a literal baby. But Steve’s not joking around. He’s serious as can be when he poses the question again.

“So did you? Put a love spell on me?” He asks, the panic evident in his tone.

You chuckle, “what the hell are you talking about?”

He crosses his arms, “I’m being serious.”

You eye him, straightening up a bit. You don’t want to belittle him or disregard whatever this manic episode was, so you continue on, treading lightly.

“I’m not actually a witch, Steve,” you step toward him, reaching for his arms.

He looks down at you, almost pouting, “but you always say you can do this witchy shit. Manifesting and intuition and all that.”

You pull his arms open and wrap them around you, pressing into him. You sneak a glance to Elsie, who happily slaps her blocks together. You look back up at Steve and smile, “I mean, I guess I’ve been manifesting you since I was a little girl.”

Steve looks at you, confused.

You continue, “I would always dream about what my future man would be like. Tall, nice hair, stroooong.” You drag out the last word as Steve lightens up, gladly accepting your compliments.

“Smart, funny, rich,” you laugh. Steve rolls his eyes, “yeah, yeah.”

You gently hold the back of his neck, playing with his hair, “seriously though, I’ve always dreamed of falling in love with someone like you. Little did I know he was just a few blocks away the whole time.”

“The universe works in mysterious ways,” he quotes the words you say way too often to him, making you smile big.

“See!” You kiss him quick, “you’re starting to really get it now!”

You pull away from him and turn your attention back to Elsie, sitting down and taking her into your lap. Steve joins you on the floor, awkwardly waving at the baby. She smiles toothlessly at him.

“Shouldn’t she be asleep by now?” He says, looking at his watch, “honestly I thought these people slept all day.”

“These people?” You laugh, astonished at your boyfriend, “but yes, she should be getting sleepy by now.”

You stand up, rocking her in your arms but she’s too distracted to sleep. Instead, she stares at Steve, eyes wide and completely enamored by him.

You smirk, “someone’s got a fan.”

Steve takes off his shoes and leans back on his elbows, getting comfortable. He ignores the baby and eyes the stack of movies, “they got anything good?”

“I thought you were good with kids?” You tease, rolling your eyes and trying to lull this baby to sleep but she is not having it. Elsie reaches toward the floor at Steve who looks up at the two of you.

He pauses, taking a mental photo of this moment. You holding a baby, hopefully his baby one day. God you would look hot pregnant, that’s a new one for him, he thinks.

“You look good with a baby,” he smirks, “hotter if it were mine.”

You grown, “gross, Steve. Be normal and help me put her too sleep.”

He groans, “is this how our future will be? Me trying to fuck you and you’re all busy with our ten kids?”

You shove him with your shoulder, “first of all, language. Secondly, ten kids? You’re out of your mind.”

“Okay, fine. I’ll settle for seven,” Steve shrugs.

You roll your eyes, “I’m not sure you could handle even one.”

Steve knew you were right about that. He was used to watching the kids, sure. But they were older and self sufficient. He’s maybe met two babies in his life and the first one was his cousin’s who wouldn’t stop crying and pooping. So he wasn’t exactly excited for the whole infant part of having kids.

You pushed Elsie toward him. Steve stuck his hands out, “oh no. You’re getting paid for this, not me.”

You insisted, “it’s a test. If you can put her to sleep, I’ll consider having your babies. One day.”

Steve’s eyes locked with yours, a dirty thought popped into his head and he gave you a look you knew too well.

“Okay, deal,” he smirked, “but instead of having my babies one day, you let me put one in you tonight.”

You gasped, pulling Elsie back into you.

“Steve! We’re still teenagers,” you exclaimed, shocked at his insinuation. Of course you thought about your future with Steve, marrying him and having kids. But that was exactly that - the future. You couldn’t possibly have a kid now, during your senior year while you both lived with your parents. Christ, they would kill you. Both his and your parents would literally kill you.

Steve chuckled, cocky as ever, grabbing at your hip and pulling you closer, “ I know, but thinking of you having my baby is really doing something to me. Like imagining you all pregnant because of me, because you love me enough to make a baby with.”

“You’re such a sap,” you shook your head, “and a perv.”

“You love me,” he ran a hand through your hair. You nodded, god you did love him.

Elsie squealed between you two. You huffed, tired of holding her and Steve noticed. He sighed, reaching toward the baby, “c’mere. Just tell me what to do.”

You smiled, handing her off to Steve who awkwardly took her in his arms. You adjusted her position, making her more comfortable as Steve hesitantly started rocking her.

“Like this?” He asked, cautiously eying Elsie who melted into his arms immediately.

“Yeah, you’re doing great,” you encouraged, stepping back to take in the scene.

Okay, now you understood why Steve was so into the baby making thing. You couldn’t help but stare as he held Elsie in his arms, rocking and cooing her to sleep.

Steve was a natural with a baby, of course he was. He rubbed his nose against her head, softly humming, the melody faintly familiar but you couldn’t place it. He wore the black band shirt you got him, the one with tighter sleeves and slightly cropped above his waistband.

He looked funny, really. Way too young to be a dad, with his worn in denim - god he looked good in those jeans, and messy hair. But again, you got what he was feeling earlier. Excited by the promise of the future with each other.

Before you both know it, Elsie falls asleep soundly in Steve’s arms. His eyes widen and he turns to you, whispering, “holy shit! I did it!”

“You did!” You whisper back, smiling wide.

Enamored with his new accomplishment, Steve continues to rock Elsie. He turns to you, noticing your loving gaze. But he catches something in your eye. A familiar look you give him, the one he only catches when you want him.

Like when you’re at a party and suddenly buzzed and bored with everyone there, only wanting to be with your boyfriend. Preferably on a bed, but the bathroom will do. Or when he’s fresh off the basketball court, sweaty and panting, getting praise from his teammates and other students but only beelines for you.

Steve knows that look. That dirty little look.

“So, about that deal,” he smirks.

You roll your eyes, letting logic guide you with this one. But it is rather fun to tease him.

You smile, “let’s resume this conversation in ten years, Harrington.”

Steve stares at you, overly content with your answer. He’s no better than a dog. The only thing running through his brain - she wants to have my babies!

Maybe you did put a spell on him, he thinks. Never in his life has he seriously thought about having children with someone and yet here he is, making ridiculous propositions while holding some stranger’s baby.

So yeah, maybe you did do your love potion magic. But thank god you did.

He cracks a smile, “promise?”

You don’t respond. Instead, lean up to kiss him softly. Definitely a promise you plan on keeping.

#steve harrington #steve harrington angst #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington x you #stranger things #steve harrington blurb #steve Harrington one shot #steve x reader #steve harrington fanfiction

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