#oh steve chill...he will just be jealouse that i was the first one to kiss you

[purple--queen]

I love Nat & Clint being best friends & the fact that they showed us that men & women can be friends without getting feelings & stuff...but sometimes i think about the what if they would have been together. I feel like pushing it right into ours faces would be to much...i think it could have been a subtile thing. Like blink & you miss it. 

[trashmouthhharrington]

Thin Mints and Menthol (Part II) (Steve Harrington x Reader)

PART 1   

PART 3

Pairings: Steve Harrington x Reader

Summary:  It’s set a year after Season 2 has finished and you’re a senior in high school who’s often getting into trouble with the law for petty crimes. And Hopper usually gets you out of trouble. Then one night the new officer Steve Harrington joins him. 

Words: 2.2k (i just didn’t know when to stop apparently)

Warnings:  Mild swearing, mild mentions of smoking, abusive behavior.

A/N: This is the second part to my series ‘Thin Mints and Menthol’, I got so many requests for a second part! Also I’m not American and I don’t smoke, so if I got any terminology wrong I’m sorry! I’m really thankful for all the amazing feedback. If you want a next part or to be tagged in future parts, let me know! Hope you enjoy!!

“And where the fuck have you been?”

His harsh voice startles You turned your head to face the man in front of you, his vice like grip on your wrist feeling like it could almost snap your bone. You winced slightly due to the pressure. You wince and whimper slightly, like a kicked puppy. It’s your Dad.

“Daddy, I’m sorry, I was studying at… Nancy Wheeler’s house and I forgot the time.”

“So why did Jim Hopper drop you off home?” You pause, you can feel the heat rising in your cheeks. A dead giveaway.

“H-h-he saw me walking home in t-the dark and offered my a ride home on his way back to the station.” The grip on your wrist loosened, you could see his anger slowly subsiding. Apparently your lie is good enough to fool him. An almost devilish grin creeps across his face. He places a wet kiss onto your cheek, the smell of alcohol is suffocating. You gip as the smell of beer and body odour hit your nose as he pulls you into a hug. Coughing slightly as he does so to cover how disgusted you feel.

“Sorry Daddy, I’m really tired and I need a bath before I go to bed. May I be excused?” You ask politely, almost whispering, wary that anything could set him off again. Suddenly you feel his dirty nails dig into your back. As quickly as they do, he releases you again. His Cheshire Cat smile still plastered across his face, dirty yellowing teeth reside in his mouth, like mismatched gravestones. His face is unshaven, greasy and definitely unwashed. He looms over you threateningly, processing the question you had just asked him

“Sure.” He says finally as he saunters slowly over into the kitchen. You watch him as he opens the run-down green fridge and pulls out another beer. He starts to turn around but before he can face you, you’re running up the stairs to escape his gaze. You quickly dash into your room closing the door carefully so you don’t disturb him and cause him more anger. Tears spill from your eyes and cascade down your cheeks splashing onto you blouse. Breathing in unsteadily, you wait till the volume on the TV downstairs increases. Safety.

You slowly re-open the door and creep down the hallway to the bathroom. Pushing the door open and pulling on the cord. The bright fluorescent lights blind you as you walk in and hastily shut the door behind you. Sighing you lean on the door, it’s cool surface calming you slightly. Your father has not always been the awful ogre-like man that resides on the sofa wasting all his money on beer, he used to be a gentle and kind man, but when he lost his job he changed. You think back to the time he used to carry you on his shoulders like you were a princess. Looking down at the angry red marks around your wrist you shake the memory from your mind, instead focusing on running your bath.

As you watch the water pour into the bath, a shiver travels through your body. Great Dad forgot to turn the heating on. You shove your hands into the pocket and giggle. A single camel cigarette is in your pocket. Hopper. You quickly open a window, strip your clothes and sink into the warm water, reaching over into your jacket to pull out your lighter and the one cigarette from your packet. You spark up and light the cigarette, taking a long drag in you lean back your head resting on the back of the bath. You suddenly sit up coughing, you reach up to your mouth pulling pieces of tobacco out of it.

“Jeez!” You accidentally say aloud. “Who the fuck smokes unfiltered cigarettes in 1985?” Shaking your head you can’t help but laugh at the hilarity of the situation. The town’s chief of police handing out a cigarette to his favorite shoplifter. You stare at it, still lit, deciding it would just be better to stub it out and throw it out the window.

That’s my last ever cigarette, I quit. 

You quickly wash your hair and body, lathering soap over every inch of yourself to try and remove the slime left over by your Dad. Scrubbing at your face to fully remove your smeared eye makeup. You take in a shaky breath as you look at your arm once again. Both have an inch wide burn encircling them, like bracelets, from the rope you’d been bound in. However your right wrist now has bruises forming in the shape of fingers like small snakes that have bitten into your skin. Four crescent shaped cuts are embedded into your skin, from his overgrown fingernails. You grimace slightly as soap and water seeps into the small lacerations.

You quickly get out of the bath,no longer wanting to think of your Dad, pulling the plug as you do. You wrap yourself in a towel and make your way down the hall. Stepping lightly as you walk. Loud snores travelling their way up the stairs as you enter your room. You hastily get ready for bed, pulling on your mismatched pajamas and braiding (Y/H/C) hair. You climb into bed, praying that when you wake up life will be different for you.

That night you dream of a magical kingdom, and a Prince with a charming smile who saves you from the clutches of an evil dragon keeping you captive in a tower.

After a weekend of avoiding your father in the house, Monday morning comes as a blessing. While you don't like the drama that comes with being at Hawkins High School, being able to escape him for around 7-8 hours is a luxury for you. You aren’t bullied at school but you don’t have any friends either, once your Dad lost his job four years ago you closed yourself off to everyone. Fearful of what they thought of you. You miss being able to laugh and confide in someone, but it was easier this way.

You pull your sleeve down on your jacket as you walk out of your home, the bruises that your Dad had left were still present on your skin. They’d only faded slightly in the three days since he’d marked you. The wind was fierce this morning and it was chilling you to the bone, you pull your thin jacket close to you, it was zipped to the top and yet you were still freezing. It had been nearly 2 years since you’d had a new winter coat. Money was in short supply these days. But you brave the cold and set off walking towards the bus stop. You live on the edge of town so the walk to the High School was too far.

There are a few people already milling around, talking to one another. You stand outside of the group, not that there’s even any chance they’d involve you in their conversation. Whilst waiting for the yellow crowded bus, you pull out a tattered poetry book from your bag, borrowed from the library.  You look up as car rolls up in front of you and the window winds down. An eager looking Steve Harrington is beaming up at you.

“(Y/N)!”

“Harrington.” You clench your jaw, forcing yourself not to smile. Despite your efforts it still tugs at the corners of your mouth.

“Fancy a ride?” He asks you sincerely, you turn to look at the group of teenagers standing at the bus stop with you. They’re all staring at you, jaws slack. You turn back to look at Steve once again, you laugh in disbelief.

“Sure, why not?” You toss your bag into the trunk of his BMW and make your way round to the passenger side. You climb in, smiling sweetly at the girls sneering jealously at you. You roll you eyes as you shut the door. He’s wearing his police uniform, presumably he’s driving to work. “Nice uniform.” You tell him smirking as he looks down proudly at it.

“Thanks, I just got it last Monday so it’s still nice and clean. Not a spot of blood in sight. Yet.” He looks in his side view mirror to check theres no oncoming traffic and sets off towards the school. You take the small moment he was distracted to stare at him, you sigh shakily as you feel yourself falling down a rabbit hole you know you shouldn’t.

“The addition of ‘yet’ scares me, are you actually going to beat me with a baseball bat and then chop me into small chunks?”

“Well I don’t know depends on how annoying you get.” He turns to you, you flash him a sarcastic smile.

“I’m not annoying I’m a delight to have, and do I need to remind you that you’re the one who offered me a ride?”

“No I remember, I’m just regretting my decision.” You playfully hit him in the arm. “Ow! Don’t distract the driver!” He rubs his bicep pretending to be hurt.

“Don’t pull that face you’ll get wrinkles, and you’re ugly enough without them.” You tell him jokingly. He turns to you his mouth open in surprise.

“Okay that was just harsh.” The smile on his face tells you that he isn’t really offended.

“So… Either you just happened to see me at the bus stop OR you just have a habit of giving High Schoolers rides to school.” He chuckles and glances at you whilst shrugging his shoulders.

“No, you’re definitely the first. Unless you count Dustin. Oh, and sometimes I give Max a ride if her brothers being an asshole.”

“Dustin? Max? Are they Seniors?” He erupts into laughter again. You gave him a confused look, lifting your hand to really show you didn’t understand. He stops chuckling and coughs to hide his obvious embarrassment.

“They’re, erm,  Freshman, I’m sort of Dustin’s honorary big brother. Or something I don’t know, it’s sort of complicated. They’re Mike Wheeler’s friends. Nancy’s younger brother. I know it’s sort of weird but they’re good kids.” He takes a hand off of the wheel and rubs the back of his neck, which turns up his collar. You instinctively lean forward and fix it. When you look up at him again your eyes lock just as they had done last Friday. Steve’s mere inches away from you, closing the gap between you would be so easy. Instead you just smile at him and lean back, deciding looking out the window would be better.

“Keep your eye’s on the road.”

“I told you, don’t distract the driver.” He tells you firmly, but you can hear the smile in his voice. You blush at the very idea you could distract him.

The rest of the ride is short, you don’t speak and yet there is a comfortable silence between you both. You open up your poetry book and read till Steve pulls into the parking lot of the High School you close the cover and immediately grab at the handle to exit the vehicle. Before you can leave he gently grasps your wrist. You wince as he he grips the spot where your father had seized you. He retracts his hand instantly.

“(Y/N), wait. Please.” You recline back into the seat, Steve leans over to open his glove box and he rummages around in his glove compartment. He finally pulls out a small green and white box. Across the front reads:

‘Menthol Fresh. SALEM. Unfiltered Cigarettes.’

“I thought I’d buy you some, might convince you to commit less thievery...I guess it’s also an early birthday present.” He tells you sheepishly. You gingerly take the packet out of his hand. You’re fingertips brush against his as you do.

“You remembered that my birthday’s this week.” You doubted even your family remembered you’re turning 18. You gaze up at him, his mouth opens slightly. Suddenly there’s loud frantic knocks on the window. It startles you both and you whirl your head round to find out who it is. It’s a group of smiling Freshmen. Steve rolls down the window.

“STEVE!” They all say almost in unison. You recognize one as Mike Wheeler, Will Byers is there too. The others are strangers to you. With Steve distracted you take the opportunity to exit the car and make your way to the high school. It’s only when you reach the main doors you realize you had been clutching onto the packet of cigarettes in your hand so hard it had creased slightly. You smile shyly, biting your lip and carefully put them in your pocket. Maybe I’ll quit smoking next week. You think to yourself.

What you failed to notice as you strolled into the high school is that Steve Harrington was watching you longingly.

Part 3???

Tags!!: @deepsouth, @blackjacksdonuts @bliazezabini