tooearlyforthis

[tooearlyforthis]

[tooearlyforthis]

my turn!!

[tooearlyforthis]

god bless The Pitt fanfic writers ur saving my depression

[tooearlyforthis]

Owner of a Lonely Heart

Pairing: Steve Harrington x reader

Synopsis: (4.4k wc) Steve didn't want to ever attend another Halloween party. Especially since this is the second time he's spilled a drink on a pretty girl.

Warnings: fluff, angst, implied smut (I tried to write the scene I really did but I just don't think smutt writting is for me)

masterlist || steve harrington taglist

This has been sitting in my drafts unfinished for over a year and I somehow finished it lol who wants a halloween fic!

The last time Steve was in Chicago, he threw up. 

He had been nine, excited to visit the new city his cousins had moved to for Thanksgiving break. If he was being honest, he was happy at first. They went sightseeing, met up with their family, and had an overall great time. 

That was all quickly ruined by Thanksgiving dinner.

Looking back on it, that day was the beginning of the end. His mother had found out that his father was cheating, resulting in what could only be described as a food fight mixed with a WWE match. Steve remembered sitting at the dining room table, sick from all the commotion - the pumpkin pie he had eaten just minutes before coming right back up.

His parents never ended up getting a divorce, thus beginning their unhappy marriage and his shitty childhood. He stopped believing in love that day, stopped believing that anyone could be happy with a significant other. But then Nancy came along and fuck, he had fallen fast. Things were looking up, despite the interdimensional monsters they faced. Life was good. 

And then Halloween happened.

It was safe to say it was now his least favorite holiday — yes, even beating Thanksgiving. So when his best friend, Robin, asked him to visit her up at Northwestern for Halloween, Steve didn’t think things through. Blindly he said yes, wanting any excuse to see her after months apart. So there he was on Halloween night in Chicago, wearing a very uncomfortable costume. 

“The people a few floors up are throwing it,” Robin told him, walking out of her room and toward the elevator. 

Steve trailed close behind, itching at the upside down funnel on his head. She somehow convinced him into a group costume, the Scarecrow and Tinman from The Wizard of Oz. 

The only reason he agreed was because he wanted to see his best friend and she agreed to assemble his costume. She chose the Scarecrow, her nose pink from lipstick and wore a patchy shirt and pants. Steve was of course then the Tinman, a flipped funnel on his head and adorning a silver suit. 

As the elevator doors closed, Robin swatted his hand away from itching his head. “Hey stop that! I worked hard to paint it silver.”

“You know I don’t do hats, Rob, it flattens my hair,” He said, dropping his hands back to his side in defeat. 

Other students filed in as they began their journey up to the party. Steve gave a polite nod, shifting closer to his friend to make room for everyone. 

Robin squished into his side, leaning up to whisper in his ear. “She likes the movie, okay?”

“Oh you’re doing this for Becky?” Steve asked, a little too loud for Robin’s liking.

She shushed him quickly. “Jeez, say it louder huh?”

The doors finally opened, letting all the occupants out onto the party floor. “You really like her huh?”

Waiting until everybody else was out of earshot she replied, “Yes I do, okay? So wear the stupid funnel and look happy.”

“Yes, mom.” 

Robin snatched his hand, pulling him down the hallway toward the party. Steve would’ve been lost without her. Every door around them was open, people funneling in and out whenever they felt like it. They passed people in every type of costume from current pop culture characters to almost every slutty thing one could think of. People were making out, dancing on beds, smoking near a cracked window. 

It made Steve envy them. Not because of what they were doing but because of what they were getting to experience. He was bummed when he didn’t get into college and slowly developed a routine over the past year that made him more confident in his decision. But now, seeing the rambunctious young adults having the time of their lives, he was beginning to doubt his life choices.

“Be polite if we see her okay?” Robin said as they passed through the entrance of the official party.

Steve furrowed his eyebrows. “Why wouldn’t I be?” 

“I don’t know, I'm just nervous!” She began shaking her hands, trying to get all her jitters out.

He planted his hands on her shoulders to steady her. “Just calm down, we’re gonna be fine.”

Nodding, she took a breath. Steve let go of her shoulders, facing toward the party next to her. “Okay,” she said. “Let’s rock this party.”

Madonna, Blondie, and Bowie shook through the speakers, young adults dancing like there was no tomorrow. And for once, Steve felt like there was no care in the world. 

He danced with Robin to the groove of the music, not caring about the bodies bumping all around him. It was…good? It was good. The thoughts of his ex were pushed to the back of his mind and instead he focused on having a good time with his best friend.

“I’m gonna go get us drinks!” Steve yelled over the music. Robin only nodded, continuing to sway to the beat of the music.

Pushing his way through the impressive number of people at the party, he finally made it to the kitchen. He had to guess that whoever owned this dorm was the RA having an almost full sized apartment compared to the standard room Robin had. 

There was a bowl of punch and he poured a glass for her before grabbing a bottle of beer for himself. Taking a moment, he leaned against the counter sipping on his cold drink. 

It had been a while since he had been happy, truly happy. Hawkins just wasn’t the same without her and the younger kids needed him less now that they were sophomores in high school. Hell, Dustin just got his learner's permit. Soon he wouldn’t even need a ride. 

Looking up from his drink he spotted Robin walking over to him, a girl trailing behind in a Dorthy costume. He had a pretty good guess at who it was.

“Steve, this is my neighbor, Becky,” she said, trying her best to not add a weird inflection in her voice. Still, Steve could understand what she was trying to say. 

Smiling, he nodded at her. “Nice to meet you, Becky.”

“You too,” the girl responded. “I’ve heard a lot about you.”

“Same,” he replied and in his peripheral vision he could see Robin’s cheeks getting red with embarrassment, regretting introducing them in the first place. 

“We,” Robin swooped in before more could be said. “Are gonna get out of here.”

That time she made no effort to hide what she meant. Steve’s eyebrows raised. How had she gone from barely being able to flirt to getting a girl back to her place?

“Okay,” he said calmly. Becky began to walk away, a coy look on her face as she dragged Robin close behind. “I’ll find someplace to go!” He yelled after them. 

“I owe you one!” Robin yelled back before disappearing out of sight. 

Chuckling to himself, Steve went to take another sip of his beer to find it was empty. Without looking too carefully he turned around bumping into someone who in turn, spilled the punch spoon all over their shirt. 

“Oh shit!” Steve exclaimed, moving fast to grab a napkin.

This was too eerie, too familiar. His heart began to race, handing the napkin over to the stranger he bumped into. It was a girl, about his age, then again everyone at the party was. She murmured a thanks as she dabbed the napkin into her shirt. 

“I’m so sorry,” Steve said quickly. “Like really, really sorry. I’m pretty sure vinegar can get it out? I don’t know if there’s vinegar here.”

“I don’t think there is,” the girl responded plainly, clearly still pissed off. “It’s fine, I'll do it in the morning.”

“I’m really sorry.” 

She looked up at him, her brows furrowed. “You said that already.”

“Right…” Steve trailed off. He tried to calm himself down but it was just too much. The Halloween party, the punch, the girl…He didn’t even know her name and yet it felt like he was losing control of everything… like that night with Nancy was creeping back up to haunt him for the rest of his life.  

She definitely could tell something wasn’t right because instead of him consoling her, it was the other way around.  “You okay dude?”

“Y-yeah,” he stumbled to say. “I’m just - I wasn’t looking where I was going and, gosh, you’re wearing white that’s hard to get out-”

“I’ll be fine,” she interrupted him. “I’m just gonna go clean up in the bathroom.”

Without another word she turned around, and Steve instantly followed. “Here, take my jacket,” he said, shedding it off his shoulders. “It’s silver, not sure if it’ll match but it can help cover the stain.”

Finally finding the right door, she placed a hand on the door knob, the other pushing the jacket back toward him. “It’s okay, my night was pretty shit anyways.” Opening the door, they could spot two people inside making out. “Get out of here lovebirds some people actually need to use this place.” Detangling themselves, the couple left, stumbling back into the party drunk. 

The minute they left, Steve began rambling again, his panic working faster than logic. “I’m still really sorry that I-”

“If I let you help me would you stop apologizing?” she asked, interrupting his sentence.

Pausing, he nodded, not knowing if he could say anything else. She nodded back, propping herself up on the sink while he closed the bathroom door. The loud noises were muffled as they were enclosed, music softening in the distance. Taking a wash cloth that was folded next to the sink, the girl ran it under the water for a moment before handing it to him.

Steve was hesitant to take it. But this is what he wanted right? To help get the stain out? It felt important to him. Like helping this stranger would fix the wrong doings in his past. Taking a deep breath, he took it. He started on her arm, washing away as much of the reddish liquid as he could. The movement of his cloth on her top was almost cathartic.

“I’m Y/n by the way,” the girl finally said. He looked up at her. “In case you were wondering.”

“Y/n,” Steve repeated, feeling the way her name sounded on his tongue. “That’s really pretty.” Y/n raised an eyebrow in skepticism. “Uh, I mean my name is Steve. Yeah…”

Chuckling at his awkwardness she asked. “What major are you?”

“Oh uh, I don’t go here, my friend does.” Nodding, she let the room fall back into silence. But it felt like a dam had opened between them. “You uh, said you were having a shitty night?”

She let out a long sigh. “Yeah I was. And then this happened.” She raised the arm he was cleaning slightly. 

“Do you mind sharing? I’ve had a pretty shitty night too,” he asked, earning a glare from her. Wrong move, definitely the wrong move. She didn’t even know him. Why would she share with him? It was weird enough, he thought, that she even agreed to let him help her.

Not daring to look up, he continued to clean her arm, wetting the wash cloth again as it started to dry up. “What the hell,” she said with a sigh.

Oh so maybe not the wrong move.

“I got my midterm back this morning,” Y/n began. “Didn’t do so hot. My roommate thought the party might cheer me up but then I saw my ex with someone…we, uh, broke up a month ago so…now I’m here.”

Steve responded softly, letting his thumb graze over her arm in comfort. “That does suck, I’m sorry.”

“Yeah…” 

Feeling satisfied with the amount of punch he got off on her sleeve, he moved up to the next affected area. He paused, realizing it was her chest. Looking up at her, he found her eyes were already on him. They looked soft, a stare unlike the more stern ones she had given him before.

He felt like he could get lost in them, the intricate colors shining brighter than any eyes he had seen before. She gave him a slow nod, an indicator that it was okay. He smiled back reassurance as he gently touched the wash cloth to her chest. Moving it gently, he tried not to think about how intimate the situation felt. Then again, it was better than having her take her shirt off for him to clean.

“So, you’ve been having a shitty night too?” she said, probably trying to distract herself from the almost stranger standing between her legs. 

And Steve had no problem with distractions. 

“Yeah, it’s been, not the best.”

“Care on sharing?”

He met her eyes for a moment but instead of getting lost, they both erupted into giggles. It was such a weird situation laughter felt like the only option. 

“My friend, the one I came to visit, she went off to hookup with someone she’s been crushing on so I’m kind of homeless for the night.”

“Oh,” Y/n began a softness to her voice, like two longtime friends confiding in each other. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be,” he retorted. “It’s nothing compared to your day. I shouldn’t even be complaining, it's just…” 

He debated on talking about Nancy, about how she was the first one to break his heart on a night very similar to the one they were currently having. It felt easy to talk to Y/n. He wanted to pour his heart out to her. But then again, they had only just met. 

Instead he said, “Halloween is just a sore topic for me so when she left-”

“-it felt like she was abandoning you,” Y/n finished. “Yeah, I know the feeling.”

Steve nodded. When had anyone understood what he was feeling so fast? She was able to summarize his emotions in so few words, it made him wonder how he never thought to describe it that way before. Pulling back the wash cloth from her chest, he tossed it into the sink. 

“There, uh, not the best but better than before right?” He scratched at the back of his neck, watching her hop off the counter and turn to examine her shirt in the mirror. 

With a smirk, she turned to him. “Not bad, Steve.”

Shrugging, he said, “I tried my best.” 

Their interaction was coming to a close and Steve didn’t know how to react. He liked this girl way more than he should for just having just spilt punch on her. But she could relate to him, made him feel okay in a situation that would otherwise have him searching for his anxiety meds. 

But with her shirt cleaned up there was nothing more to say. Smiling, he inched toward the door. “I guess it was nice meeting you-”

“Do you wanna go steal pudding?”

He cocked his head to the side, letting out a breathful laugh. “I’m sorry what?”

“Do you wanna steal pudding? From the cafeteria? Sorry just we’ve both had shitty nights and this party doesn’t seem like a cure. Plus, pudding is like the only good thing in the caf.”

Steve couldn’t help but smile, feeling flustered at the mere mention of spending more time with her. He opened the bathroom door, the volume of the party increasing to a blaring height. Over the noise, he shouted, “Lead the way!”

“Hmm” Steve groaned, taking another scoop of pudding. “How is a cafeteria pudding this good?”

Y/n chuckled in her seat across from him. She was leaning back in her chair, her feet planted on his lap as a makeshift stool. “I don’t know man. Every other food in this place stinks. But this? I could eat it forever.”

He laughed at her statement, trying not to spit out his mouthful of pudding. Looking around the dark cafeteria that was only lit by the moonlight pouring through the sky roof. Taking a more in depth look, he noticed the lack of security.

“No guards?” he asked.

Y/n raised her eyebrows. “You’ve really never been on campus huh?”

He shook his head as she took her feet off of his lap. Y/n placed down her pudding and scooted her chair closer to him, their shoulders almost touching. He tried not to blush but felt himself failing miserably. 

Why was she so easy to talk to? He wanted to blurt out his life story to her. Talk through what he felt was wrong in his life. He wanted to hear about her too. Console her from the ex boyfriend, make sure that neither of them ever feels broken again. 

Caught up in his own world, Steve blurted out, “My girlfriend dumped me on Halloween.”

He felt Y/n stiffen next to him.  

Retreat, retreat, RETREAT!

“Sorry, I shouldn’t have said that.”

“No, it’s okay,” she said, placing her pudding down. Turning in her seat, she tried to get a better look at him. “I’m sorry she dumped you.”

“It’s okay,” he said, facing her. His gaze was toward the cup in his hands and he forced himself to set it down and look at her. “It was two years ago just- she called me bullshit. Our relationship was bullshit, even though I loved her and-” He stopped himself, trying to think back to the point he was trying to make.

“What I’m trying to say is I don’t like Halloween that much so I really appreciate this.”

There was a look in her eye, like something changed but Steve couldn’t point out what. “Y/n-”

He couldn’t say anymore as she pressed her lips to his. It was a shock, something that took him a moment to recover from before kissing her back. He wrapped a hand around her waist the best he could in their awkward seating arrangement. She felt her hand cup his chin guiding him in a way that was more dominant than any other kiss he had had. 

Breaking away, both of them let out a long sigh. But despite the smell of alcohol on their breaths, they remained close, foreheads almost touching. Steve was still in shock, watching as a smile crossed Y/n’s lips. 

“You know,” she began, “My roommate isn’t going to be home tonight.”

He knew what she was insinuating. And while in the past he would want to take a girl on a date before his bed, there was something about Y/n that made him rethink his rule. 

The sun shined through the blinds of the dorm room, a beam of light hitting Steve perfectly in the face. With a groan, he lifted his hand, trying to block the exposure while scrunching his face. 

As his hand lifted he felt something shift next to him. No, not something, someone. Y/n, to be more specific. The room slowly came into focus as the events of the previous night flooded his mind. 

Stumbling into the dorm. Her lips on his. The pull on his hair, the moans she let out. The weight of her on top of him… He smiled at the memory. 

Y/n turned into his side, her face snuggled into his side as an arm landed across his stomach. He watched as she slowly opened her eyes, scrunching her face the same way he had moments before. 

“Morning,” he said in a soft tone.

As her eyes landed on him, a smile etched at the corner of her lips. “Morning,” she replied, a slight seductive tone to her voice. Steve thought she would turn away at the sight of him. Usher him out of her room and say it was all a lapse of judgment after a difficult breakup. But she didn’t do that, quite the opposite in fact. Y/n leaned more into him, letting her face linger in the curve of his neck. “I had a lot of fun last night,” she told him, her voice a little hoarse. 

Steve didn’t wanna fuck this up. Mess up the first good thing to happen to him in months. So, he went with a simple yet still effective response. “Me too.”

He looked down at her. She looked ethereal, like an angel sent down to earth specifically for him. The hand she had curled around him pressed softly into his side. Like she was making sure he wouldn’t leave her. God, he wanted to kiss her. It would be so easy to lean down and connect their lips. To savor the taste of her against his mouth. But he wanted to be better than that, to set boundaries. Was this just a casual fling? The very thing Steve told himself he would avoid? Or did she want more than that, to keep in touch, to see him again…

He got his answer as she leaned closer to him, capturing his lips on hers. It was a lot slower than it was the night before, less urgency. Now, he really had time to savor it. The cracks in her lips, the taste of her mouth - cherry lipstick mixed with morning breath but he didn’t mind one bit. 

Just as they began to pull away, to discuss the logistics of what was going to happen next, the door flew open. A gust of air hit them as Y/n ducked into his side, Steve pulling up the comforter to cover them. How did someone get inside? Weren’t these dorm rooms supposed to be locked?

A girl stumbled into the room, not drunk but clearly not sober. “Hey Y/n, you won’t believe what happened last--” She paused, taking in the sight before her. 

Steve in her bed, her huddled into his side. The girl’s eyes went wide. “Oh my god!” the girl gasped. 

That seemed to pull Y/n out of her haze. She peered up from her place wrapped in Steve’s arms to look at the intruder. “Gosh, Becky! Don’t you knock?”

Becky. Where had he heard that name before? No, it couldn’t be…

“I live here,” the girl -- Becky -- exclaimed. “Plus you didn’t put a sock on the door.”

That made all three of them realize that the door was still wide open, students passing by for morning classes and showers. Some turned to give a passing glance as they walked by. 

A voice called through the crack of the door, becoming louder and clearly heading in their direction. “Becky, is everything okay?”

Robin rushed through the open door, holding on to the knob to brace herself. She looked disheveled and a little out of breath, like she had rushed over to make sure no one was hurt. 

“I could hear you from all the way down the hall,” Robin continued before turning to look at Y/n and Steve, both too shell shocked to say anything. Robin’s mouth formed an O, her eyebrows raising the same way Becky’s did just moments before.

“Steve? What the fuck are you doing?” Robin shouted, arguably louder than anything Becky had previously said. 

“Uh, sleeping with Becky’s roommate apparently,” he responded. He didn’t know why he said the joke, but everything about this interaction was making his brain falter. Y/n giggled into his side. With every laugh, his arm wrapped around her shoulders bounced. 

“This is Steve?” Becky said to Robin, pointing a finger at him.

Robin groaned. “Unfortunately.” 

“Hey!” Steve said, slightly offended. It wasn’t like he knew he was sleeping with Becky’s roommate. 

“Oh my god, okay,” Y/n interrupted, sitting up in bed. She pulled the blankets up with her to shield her, exposing more of Steve’s bare chest. “You two are going to go back to Robin’s room and get dressed okay? Then we can go to that diner on 3rd for breakfast and we can all talk about…” She gestured to all four of them. “This.

Robin and Becky agreed, walking back out of the room, not without a couple of glances at Y/n and Steve. Once the door was closed, Y/n slumped back into the bed, her head resting on Steve’s arm across the pillows. 

“Well,” Steve began, trying to calm his heart. “That was interesting.”

Y/n reached over, putting a finger up to his mouth. “Nope, we’re not talking about this right now. She slowly let go, tilting her head back to stare up at the ceiling. “I just wanna stay here with you for a few more minutes…is that okay?”

Is that okay? It was more than okay for Steve. He would never leave this bed if she told him to. He had only known her for approximately 12 hours, but it felt like his entire world had shifted. There was something in their conversation the night before that just clicked for him. It felt like a new chapter of his life was starting and he wasn’t scared by it. In fact, he was jittery with excitement for it to begin.

“Y-yeah, that okay,” he said, trying not to sound too happy. 

He rested his head back to look up as well, closing his eyes to ground himself. He felt Y/n lean back into him, fitting perfectly in the slot between his chest and shoulder. Her arm circled his waist, putting just enough pressure for him to know it was okay to scoot closer. 

If this was the start of the next chapter of his life, that meant he needed to do the things that he was scared to do before. And that included being upfront about how he felt and wanted.

“I don’t want this to be a one time thing,” he said plainly. His eyes were still closed as his words drifted into the air, nothing being said back. 

A moment passed with no response. Steve opened his eyes to look down at her. She was already looking up at him, a smile forming on the sides of her mouth. In lieu of a response, she slid her arm up to cup his jaw, pulling him in for another kiss. It was just as good as the last one. Sweet, slow, good. 

When she let go, her hand drifted back to rest on his chest. “Me neither.”

Now Steve was the one smiling. “Cool,” he said. “Uh, not cool. I mean it is cool I was wanted to say something that wasn’t lame--”

“Steve?” Y/n said, interrupting him. He looked down at her. “Kiss me.”

He didn’t hide his smile this time. 

Taglist: @Afraidofshrimp @lovesanimals0000 @cilliansnostalgia @hollandweather @Nix-rose @halflifejess @Palmtreesx3 @superlegend216 @sweetdazequeen @blckburd

[tooearlyforthis]

I need an Eddie x weird girlfriend fic inspired by Dinner in America STAT but I’m too lazy to write 😭😭

[tooearlyforthis]

I didn’t even know this was happening thank you for posting!

AO3 has been scraped, once again.

As of the time of this post, AO3 has been scraped by yet another shady individual looking to make a quick buck off the backs of hardworking hobby writers. This Reddit post here has all the details and the most current information. In short, if your fic URL ends in a number between 1 and 63,200,000 (inclusive), AND is not archive locked, your fic has been scraped and added to this database.

I have been trying to hold off on archive locking my fics for as long as possible, and I've managed to get by unscathed up to now. Unfortunately, my luck has run out and I am archive locking all of my current and future stories. I'm sorry to my lovelies who read and comment without an account; I love you all. But I have to do what is best for me and my work. Thank you for your understanding.

[tooearlyforthis]

I need a Hotch x reader story where they meet while he's in witness protection and Scratch comes after them and we find out who he really is.

If a fic like this exists pls let me know!

[tooearlyforthis]

trying to write that fic I was visualizing in my head

[tooearlyforthis]

Do you ever start a scenario to fall asleep and then actually fall asleep and forget where you ended? It’s been three nights in a row and I feel like my brain is on repeat.

[tooearlyforthis]

At every table, I'll save you a seat, lover - S.H

Steve has written a love letter to get all his feelings down on paper and hopefully out of his head but somehow it ends up in the hands of his favourite girl, aka the girl making it hard for him to focus on anything else, and to makes things worse, they’re both attending the same wedding the day before valentines 

Steve Harrington x female!reader

A/n: friends to lovers, love letters, valentines themes

Warnings: strong language, kissing 

Word count: 3.2k

You're my, my, my, my

It was stupid. Utterly and completely. And yet Steve had written the letter, put it in an envelope, written her address and sealed it. He had confessed every feeling and thought he had about her, his mind was running faster than his hand, making his handwriting a little messy but that hardly mattered. He had done it and he felt no better now than before. 

He paced the house with it, wondering if lighting it on fire might help, but that seemed a little dramatic (even for him). He placed it on the small table in the hall downstairs, he stared at it for a moment and then he left it there, grabbing his keys and needing a quick drive around town. He could decide what to do with it later, but he was probably going to just tear it up. 

Somehow, god knows how, the letter, along with some other post from Steve’s house had been sent. It was completely untorn, unburnt and sitting on her front step when she got home the next day. She recognised the writing immediately, screwing her face up as she wondered why Steve would send her a letter instead of just calling her or waiting to see her. They hung out, a lot. 

She picked up the envelope as she put her keys in the door. She was lucky it hadn’t rained this evening, or else the letter would’ve been ruined. It was supposed to rain, the weather channel said so and- she felt the first few drops on the back of her neck. She held the letter to her chest and hurried inside. 

She felt oddly protective of it, like it was something important, even though she had no idea what was written inside. She contemplated calling Steve to talk to him while she opened it, but she was a little too impatient for that today. What if he didn’t pick up on the first ring, what if he told her not to open it? 

She read her own name first, in the very neat way Steve had written it. The rest of the letter was messier but her name was written carefully at the top. She started to read the note. Each word was making her hold onto it tighter but gentler at the same time, fearful of dropping it or ripping it. 

She just stood there, with her door closed behind her and the rain growing heavy outside, frozen in the hallway reading every word he had written. Everything about her voice, her smile, the way she got so excited for Winter to come but just as excited about Spring too. 

How she made him drive all over town trying to find just the right shade of lavender nail polish and how he didn’t mind at all because it meant he got to spend all day with her. How he loved the way she said his name, how he loved the sound her bracelets made when she moved her wrist, how he loved- her. 

Oh.

The phone rang and she practically had a heart attack. She was so busy reading the same words over and over that a bird chirping out in the rain would’ve made her flinch. She picked up the phone and felt all the blood in her body rush to her head. It was Steve. The same Steve who, who-

“Hey, I wanted to make sure you still wanted to drive up to the wedding together tomorrow. I can come pick you up in the morning but fair warning, it’s supposed to be really warm tomorrow, like unusually warm for february and the AC in my fucking car is still broken.” 

Why was he rambling about the weather, he just told her he loved her in a letter and now he wanted to talk about the weather forecast for tomorrow? It was like he had never even sent the letter, like he had no idea she was standing here, holding it in her hands wondering why it just kept getting messier the more she read. 

“Are you there?” She could hear him screwing up his nose over the phone. Her ribs grew sweetly tight. 

“Yeah. I'm here.”

She noticed ink on the other side. There was another side? She turned it over and kept reading even as Steve talked about the wedding over the phone. She didn’t mean to ignore him, but finishing the letter felt more pressing than what shoes he was going to wear for the wedding at the current moment. 

She read the words ‘-It’s stupid because you’ll never read this, and I’m tearing it up the second I’m done-’ and realised she was not supposed to have this letter in the first place. Somehow she had ended up with it, she had ended up knowing how he felt about her, all the while her feelings were still perfectly hidden and locked up in the back of her mind. That’s why he was acting normal, he just didn’t know. 

“So? Do you want me to come get you? You can put your dress in the backseat if you’re worried about messing it up.” Her shoulders relaxed and she felt herself smiling, with everything going on, whether he knew about it or not, Steve was still Steve, the sweetest person alive. And he had fallen in love with her. 

“I’ll get a ride with you. It makes more sense.” It didn’t. 

Half the town was going to this wedding and Steve lived three streets over from her but-, he was her Stevie and he always drove her everywhere, even when she got her driver's licence she never bothered buying a car because she had Steve and his car. Even with its broken AC, she would pick it over anything else every single day. 

Oh, you're my, my, my, my

He stole glances at her as she shifted in the passenger seat. It was unreasonably warm for early February, especially in Steve's car. They were around an hour away from the venue now. He had been half watching the road and half watching her as she tried not to stare at him with her brows pressed together in the way she did. 

He wasn’t sure what was going on with her, but something was bothering her. It felt like she was hiding something, trying to not give something away. He knew when she had a secret, she was terrible at keeping them from him, he could always just tell she knew something he didn’t in a matter of seconds. 

Something was driving her a little crazy in his passenger seat. He would bet on it. 

She shifted in her seat again, probably not even realising she was until Steve looked over at her. “I know, it's warm isn’t it?” He leaned forward slightly and hit his hand against the AC, like that was going to make it suddenly start working again. It was worth a shot. “What the hell happened to Winter.”

“It died, and now it’s never coming back.” She pouted a little. He knew she loved Spring but she also loved Winter and it had disappeared way too fast for her liking. She pressed the back of her hand to her neck, the heat slightly getting to her. She should try being in love with her best friend, because that somehow made the sun unbearably warm on his skin.

It was like ‘hey, it's hot out, and guess what the girl you love is going to laugh at your jokes and something touch your knee and then it's going to feel so hot you’ll want to die’. He wouldn’t recommend the feeling but he also knew damn well he wouldn’t give it up for anything.  

She pressed her brows together as she saw Steve grinning in her peripheral vision. “And I’m the dramatic one.” He normally was, she was just feeling a little dramatic after reading his letter last night. But she couldn’t say that, she had to deal with the fact that he didn’t want her to know. So she had to go on parenting like she didn’t. 

She found herself staring at him now, doing a terrible job of ‘pretending and wondering how long it would be until more of his freckles came out and the bridge of his nose was burnt again. She liked Steve in the spring/summer time. He looked even prettier if that was possible. She looked at the back seat. Oh no. He was going to be wearing a suit today wasn’t he? 

There were also two pairs of shoes in the back, she guessed he couldn’t decide. It was a strange feeling to see their shoes side by side, her short heels and his brown and black leather shoes all just lined up together in the middle seat. It was stupid but it was that same hopeful feeling she got in her ribs when she slept over and left her toothbrush in his bathroom. Her neck started to hurt from staring at their shoes so much, so she turned back around. 

“Are you nervous?” He asked, hand on the steering wheel and eyes on the road. Steve always looked good driving. He spared a glance at her, making her shift again beside him. 

She shouldn't be nervous, not in the way she was anyway. It wasn't her wedding, in hindsight she had nothing to worry about, she was a guest who had no responsibilities but to dance a bit and drink champagne out of a tall glass. The nerves she was currently experiencing were mostly to do with the fact that the boy currently driving to this wedding loved her. 

“You know I’m not getting married right?” She joked, hoping it would ease her mind more than his.

His face broke into a lopsided smile that made her want to kiss him just to feel it. Then he gave her this look, like he was mentally rolling his eyes at her. It made her feel a little bit better. His eyes fell back on the road. “There’s going to be a lot of people in one place, I just wanted to check in.”

She wanted to reach over and hug him. 

“I’ll be fine Steve, I promise.” She wasn’t sure she would be ‘fine’ but she knew she would be fine eventually. Today could suck and be totally overwhelming for her but at least once it was done she’d have Steve to talk it over with. Knowing that always seemed to make crowded rooms and big events a little easier to get through. 

She watched him for a moment, the genuine concern evident on his face warming her heart, because Steve cared. Yes, she now knew he loved her, but she always knew he cared about her. And it was so nice to be cared about. She felt herself smiling softly as she looked down at her lap. Maybe she should just tell him she knew? 

“If you’re not, I’ll grab some wine and we can sit in the car till you feel better.” It sounded like something a couple of teenagers would do but that didn't mean it sounded like a bad idea. 

“You’re cute.” She half muttered under her breath, idly not noticing the way Steve harshly swallowed down on nothing.

Darling, you're my, my, my, my, lover

The songs playing were slightly on the lovesick side but she kind of liked that. It wasn't only February (the month dedicated to love) but it was also a wedding. You were supposed to feel a little dizzy watching couples dancing together and seeing people meeting for the first time over crystal glasses and pretty little foil covered chocolates. Speaking of pretty, she wasn't sure what had happened to Steve but he had never looked like this before.

His suit jacket was long abandoned on the back of the chair sitting beside her and his white shirt was starting to look rather messy along with his hair that he had run his fingers through one too many times. She had helped him with his tie just before the ceremony had started but between then and now (the reception), he had misplaced it somewhere. 

She couldn't help but watch him with her head tilted to the side as he made conversation and slowly drank whatever was in the short glass in his hand. Someone must have made a joke because Steve laughed, making the corner of his eyes crinkle as the brown in his irises warmed into hazel. Her eyesight wasn't that good, she just knew his laugh well enough to know what was happening across the string light lit garden. 

Steve's gaze shifted over to her and his smile faltered. It was one of those moments when she wanted to know what he was thinking about, was he thinking about the things he had written in that letter or was he thinking about something else? He said something to his friends behind his hand, making it impossible for her to even try and read his lips, and then he edged away from them and walked back over to her. 

“Why are you all alone, huh?” He asked, slipping his hands into his pockets as he stood in front of her. 

“I’m taking everything in. It’s pretty isn't it? I like that we're outside. Imagine if it was the summer, the sunset would be so perfect with all the satin and lace, oh and-” At some point Steve has slipped into the chair in front of her (which wasn't his actually seat but nobody was going to mind, almost everyone was up talking or dancing), she hadn't noticed till she looked down from the sky where she had been imagining the sunset and he was just there. Listening to her every word with a soft smile on his lips. 

She stopped talking about the wedding. Not because there was nothing left to talk about, but because this felt like the moment. Steve shifted closer on his chair, hands clasped together and resting on his knees, like he was waiting for her to keep going. She could've. She should've. But she didn't. 

“I got your letter. I don't think I was supposed to but I did.” His eyes snapped up to hers and she suddenly felt very on the spot. She pulled at the fabric of her dress, the hem sitting on her thigh wrapping around her fingers a little too perfectly. “It was a good letter. Very well written. Good timing considering it's Valentine's Day tomorrow.” What the hell was she saying?

“Thank you?” He said, slightly confused, making her break a smile. “Look I know it was stupid but I didn't know what else to do. It fucking sucks being in love with your best friend but I don't think this feeling is going anywhere anytime soon, so why don't you dance with me and just see how it feels?”

It was one of the oddest ways she had ever been asked to dance before but she couldn't say no. How could anyone look into those puppy-dog eyes and say no. It was impossible. She stood up and slipped her hand into his. “I'll always wanna dance with you Stevie.”

He smiled, all lopsided and lovesick, and he let her pull him to his feet. Of course the letter ended up at her door, that was just how Steve's luck worked, but he felt like it was ‘good’ luck not bad. Especially from the way she was looking at him, now that was luck. 

“So you don't hate me?” Steve was fairly confident she didn't but he still needed to double check, he wrote a lot of things in that love letter of his. She slipped her arms around his neck and softly shook her head. 

“You confessed that you loved me in a letter, that's fairytale stuff Steve, how could I hate you for that.” She didn’t think there was a universe where she could hate Steve Harrington. And she definitely couldn't hate him in a universe where he loved her and he asked her to dance with him at weddings. “You're my best friend.” He pulled her in a little more. “And I-” She faltered as her eyes fell on his lips. Fuck, she wanted wanted kiss him. Or him to kiss her, or- 

“You don't have to say it.” He whispered as the song changed again. “I mean I'm being a bit narcissistic and presuming that you love me too but you seem nervous and you don't have to be. We can talk about where the hell my tie went instead if you want?” He glanced around with his nose screwed up. 

“I-” She tried again, but this time Steve cut her off as he decided now was the time to bend down and press a soft kiss to her neck. He was probably trying to relax her but her head was spinning faster now. He pressed another. “Steve, I can't talk if you're doing that.” 

He nudged his nose just under her ear, right where she had pressed her perfume just hours ago. She watched as he swallowed down on nothing. She had accumulated hours of staring at the freckles and scars across his neck, and now he had kissed hers, wasn't she allowed to kiss his? 

“Sorry, I thought it might help.” He slipped the strap of her dress back on her shoulder, she hadn't even noticed it had fallen. His fingertips were warm and she couldn't help but imagine them touching her everywhere else. She loved this dress but she wouldn't mind Steve taking it off her. 

“You thought kissing my neck while we're dancing under twinkling lights would help me concentrate on telling you that I love you too?” 

“Yeah.” He grinned and she realised. 

“Oh.” Her eyes fell to the tile beneath them, it had a dozen cracks in it but it was still pretty. “I guess it did.” She muttered as his fingers hooked under her jaw and lifted her head. 

He said her name like it was a mix of a curse and a promise. And then he leaned in. Breath soft against her skin. He smelt like champagne and peppermints with a splash of whatever cologne he wore. She was sure it was something in a little glass brown bottle that sat on his bathroom sink. 

“Did I mention in that letter how much I want to kiss you?” She felt each word on her lips. She nodded her head, accidently nudging her nose against his. “Good.” If he hadn't gone on and on about kissing every inch of her skin in that letter, she would know from the way he was kissing her now anyway. It wasn't desperate, they were still in a slightly crowded dance floor, but it was full of need and love, just like the love letter was. 

[tooearlyforthis]

just read your steve/max sibling relationship fic and let me tell you, i am sobbing.

i can’t believe it doesn’t have more notes how come everyone isn’t walking around with that fic tattooed on their forehead as i’d like to do??

ugh found family is just so 😗🤌

i love how you wrote steve with all his sadness and anger but a child’s openness for affection still

fuck the harringtons all my homies hate the hatringtons (not you stevie you are the specialest boy of em all)

i love the steve/jonathan friendship!! and steve not knowing what kind of music he really likes? so julia roberts in runaway bride coded except i wasn’t crying about it back then.

also his posthumous friendship with eddie? how it is a bit selfish because he’s doing for eddie what he hopes someone will do for him except it’s really not i’m sorry you were taught it’s greedy to want love 😭

it’s the middle of the night and i don’t have all the words for all these big feelings so forgive me but i thought it was imperative that i thank you for your writing and tell you how much more applause and appreciation you deserve!!

Omg thank you so much this literally made my day you have no idea. The Hawkins House sale might be one of the fics I’m most proud of writing. I love Steve/max sibling fics there needs to be more of them!

Heres’ the link to the story if others are interested -> The Hawkins House Sale

[tooearlyforthis]

Secret's Out

Pairing: !bfSteve Harrington x Reader

Synopsis: (2.4k wc) The kids have been telling Steve for months to start dating and that doesn't change when a new girl walks into Family Video. Little do they know, he's already dating her.

Warnings: fluff, secret relationship

masterlist || steve harrington taglist

Hello it's been a minute! I haven't had the urge to write in a while but somehow was able to get this out haha. Enjoy!

“Why didn’t you ask her out?” 

Why didn’t he ask her out…that was the question that had been stalking Steve for the past five months. Every time a woman came into Family Video, any time he walked past a pretty girl at the movies. Someone always asked the question: Why didn’t you ask her out?

It didn’t matter who he was with; Robin, Dustin, or even little Erica. The question found a way of coming up. He didn’t blame them in the early days. Robin had gotten used to his constant flirting with customers, spending most of their shared shifts complaining about it. But then one day, it all stopped. No more flirting, no more dates, no more suave Steve Harrington.

To say his friends found it odd was an understatement. Almost everyone he had gone out with for a solid year had been entertainment for his friends. It became a running joke that Nancy had taken away his ability to get any girl or go on more than one date with one. So they became concerned when it all stopped one random day in March.

They asked the question out of worry over anything else. Worried that their dear friend Steve was hiding something important, wanting to make sure he was okay. Dustin especially knew how Steve could withdraw from the group when something was wrong, spending more days at home alone than out with the party. 

But that wasn’t the case, quite the opposite. 

“Why didn’t you ask her out?” Dustin asked. He was leaning over the counter at Family Video. His feet barely touched the floor as he tried to hold himself up by his arms. 

Steve sighed as he placed the last of the cash in the register. Another girl had come in for some romance movie, and Steve didn’t even try to make a move. Instead, when the girl reached forward to pay with cash, her fingers lingering over his, he retreated his hand quickly. 

“Not my type,” Steve said, not looking up at Dustin. 

“Bullshit, I saw you ask a girl out like that when you and Robin were working at Scoops. She's your type.”

“I don’t know what to tell you, man, I didn’t wanna ask her out!” 

The bell at the front of the store rang out, indicating a new customer. Steve looked toward the door as the last of the words left his mouth. He froze when he saw who it was. Y/n, the love of his life, the one he had been hiding from his friends for almost five months. She looked as beautiful as the first time he had seen her browsing records at the local shop on Main Street. 

Dustin craned his neck to see what had left his friend so starstruck, and when he saw Y/n, he did everything except roll his eyes. “Okay, you’re practically drooling over that girl. Why don’t you ask her out?”

The comment brought Steve back to reality, watching as Y/n tried to hide her smile and turn down an aisle of movies. “Uh, no man, I’m good,” Steve told Dustin.

Dustin groaned, practically throwing himself on the front counter. “That is bullshit and you know it!” 

It was bullshit. The most bullshit he had ever said in his life. The moment he saw her in the record store five months prior, it was like a magnet had pulled them together. Glances from across the store, blush not hiding from their cheeks, they inched closer and closer until finally colliding. Yes, literally colliding, in front of the new releases section. 

“Sorry,” Steve said, a chuckle escaping his lips. “I must be really clumsy today.”

Y/n giggled right back, pushing a strand of hair out of her face. “No it’s okay I wasn’t looking where I was going.” She was gripping a seven-inch in her other hand, looking down at the floor. It was clear neither of them wanted the conversation to end and Steve had no plans to do so. 

“Stacey Q…I don’t think I’ve heard of her before,” he said, motioning to the record in her hands.

Y/n glanced down too, before looking back up at him. He almost got lost in her eyes, and the softness they showed him. “Uh, yeah me neither. But my friend recommended it, so here I am.”

Steve nodded along, going to rest against the carton of records but pulled away at the last second, realizing how bad it would be for the vinyl. He felt like such a clutz, making a fool of himself in front of a pretty girl. But then she giggled, that infectious giggle that he would come to pull out of her in the following months, as he knew he still had a shot.

“I uh, I haven’t seen you around here before, in Hawkins I mean,” he choked up.

Y/n shook her head. “Just moved here, I’m from the west coast.”

He raised his eyebrows. “The west coast? Must get a lot of sun out there.”

“Oh so much,” She continued. “Too much if I’m being honest…I’m Y/n by the way.”

She extended her hand out for him to shake and Steve reached out to grip it immediately. As he shook her hand he gave out his own name. “Would you wanna grab coffee at the diner across the street? You can tell me more about the west coast and I can tell you about how much you’ll miss it after moving to Indiana.” 

Y/n laughed again, but in the type of way that Steve knew he hadn’t fucked up this interaction. “Yeah, I’d like that.” For a moment she looked up at him with a smile he couldn’t stop thinking about. But then her eyes flickered down and he realized that he had still been shaking her hand.

“Oh!” Steve exclaimed, pulling it back and moving to fix his hair. He always fixed his hair when he was nervous. “Sorry.”

“It’s okay. Let me just pay for this and we can head over?” 

All Steve could do was nod, watching as she walked toward the register. How had he fumbled so hard and still gotten a date? If that was any other girl in Hawkins, she would have been out the door before he could say a word. 

Steve waited near the front door for her, watching as Y/n looked back around her shoulder while checking out to make sure he hadn’t gone, each time with a smile that Steve swore was melting his heart by the second. 

He knew even then that she would be the best thing that would ever happen to him. And he was right, which was why all of the secrecy. 

Y/n had been busy with work since the moment she arrived and Steve had the noisiest friend group in all of the midwest, so it seemed almost natural to keep their relationship on the downlow. 

That still didn’t stop Dustin from trying to set him up.

“Why are you like this?” Dustin’s question brought Steve back to the present. 

He sighed as he sat down on a stool behind the front counter. “Like what?”

“All opposed to dating?” Dustin said like it was the most obvious thing in the world. “What happened to getting over Nancy, going on dates, finding the one?”

“You think I’m not over Nancy?”

He was deflecting and Dustin knew it. “Not the point, Steve! Ever since March it’s like you’ve sworn off girls. It’s sad that I have a girlfriend and you don’t.”

He scrunched his eyebrows. “Hey! Being in a relationship isn’t everything you know.”

“Oh I know that,” Dustin said. “But to you, Mr. Harrington, it’s like single isn’t in your vocabulary, at least it wasn’t until, like, March.”

Maybe Steve had dragged out this secret for too long. His friends were concerned for him, albeit more concerned than they should be. But Steve was happy, in the best, healthiest relationship in his life. Maybe it was time to come clean. 

He looked up across the video store, scanning to see where Y/n had walked off toward. He spotted her quickly in the romance section, peeking out from behind a corner. He could tell she was blushing even from behind the shelf of tapes. 

A plan forming in his head, Steve turned back to Dustin. “If I ask for her number, you have to shut up about my dating life, forever. Not another peep.”

“Yes! Totally!” Dustin said eagerly. “Cross my heart and hope to die.”

Steve rolled his eyes and stood up from the stool, making his way over to where his girlfriend was browsing. 

“Hey,” she said as he approached. “I thought you were working along today I wouldn’t have come if I thought--”

“It’s okay,” he interrupted. “In fact, I was thinking maybe it was about time we let the cat out of the bag.”

Y/n’s eyes went wide. “Really? I meant I know how much you liked keeping this between us and with my work schedule it’s not like I’ll be seeing your friends often.”

“I’m sure,” he said, reaching for one of her hands. She dropped it to her side, letting his fingers gently brush over the back of her hand. “And I want you to meet them all properly but I wanna shut that little twerp up so badly right now.”

Y/n looked briefly over at where Dustin was sitting. The kid looked away quickly, pretending like he wasn’t paying attention. She laughed, looking back up at her boyfriend. “Yeah? And how are you gonna do that?”

“Oh I can think of a million ways.” Y/n giggled. “But I think for now I’ll settle for a kiss.”

“That I can help with.”

With her other hand, Y/n put down the tape she was holding and then brought it up to rest on Steve’s jaw. She leaned forward and slowly planted her lips on top of his. It was a sweet kiss, no need to do more in the sanctity of a video store, but she was sure to make it drag out. She wrapped her arms around his neck, feeling his arms grip either side of her waist. 

On the other side of the store, Dustin’s jaw was on the floor. 

He stood shocked at what he was seeing. Here was a guy that fumbled through every pickup line since his breakup with Nancy Wheeler, and now he was locking lips with a stranger in record time. 

The bell of the video store rang but Dustin couldn’t pull his eyes away from the scene in front of him. That girl was hot, there was no denying it and was so out of Steve’s league. But with the desire to see him happy, Dustin sent his friend over there anyway. 

“What are you looking at?” asked a voice. Dustin didn’t look away, knowing it was Mike who asked the question. He had just walked in with Lucas and Max. Dustin was supposed to pick up a movie for them but he guessed his annoying Steve went longer than he expected. Dustin couldn’t even muster words, just point to where Steve was locking lips with a total stranger. 

“Holy smokes!” Lucas exclaimed. His voice echoed across the store, making Steve and Y/n pull back. Steve guessed they had more of an audience than he intended. 

Taking his girlfriend's hand he asked, “Wanna meet the little shits that I look after?”

“Sure,” she said through a laugh. 

Steve turned to look back at Dustin for the first time since walking over, finding that the other little shits he looked after had joined him. Well, the more people there now, the less he would have to tell later. His hand was still gripping Y/n’s as they walked over, and Steve beamed at the shock look on Dustin’s face. 

“How did you-” Dustin began, but stopped, not being able to comprehend what happened. 

Lucas chimed in. “She’s way out of your league,” he said, earning a smack on his arm from Max. He yelped in surprise. 

“Twerps,” Steve addressed, “This is Y/n, my girlfriend.”

“Girlfriend!” Dustin shouted with a gasp. “Since when?”

“Uh since March?” Y/n said, trying to think back to the start of their relationship. “Nice to meet you guys. I've heard a lot about you.”

“March?” Mike asked. “You’ve had a girlfriend since March and we didn’t know?”

Max rolled her eyes. “You guys just don’t pay attention. El and I knew so long ago.”

“You knew?” Steve asked. 

She shrugged her shoulders, crossing her arms over her chest. “We made an educated guess. And we were right.”

“You must be Max,” Y/n said, pointing out the fiery girl from personality alone. She turned to Dustin and his curly hair. “And Dustin. Mike.. and Lucas?”

“Wow, you’re good,” Mike said. 

Y/n giggled at the young teens words. She leaned into Steve’s side just a little more, her head bumping with his shoulder. 

“How about once my shift’s done we take these little twerps out for some food?” Steve asked her.

She hummed in agreement. “Food sounds good.”

“Only if you're buying!” Dustin exclaimed, pointing a finger at Steve.

Steve pointed a finger back. “Only if you keep your end of the bargain.”

“You tricked me!”

“And yet, Max figured it out.”

Dustin shot a glare toward the red head. His eyes filled with annoyance. She only shrugged and said, “It’s not my fault you’re oblivious.”

Dusting turned back to Steve, Y/n still leaning into his side. He let his shoulders relax with a sigh, his head dropping back with defeat. “Fine! I’ll shut up.”

“I call the front seat!” Lucas called out.

Mike groaned, heading for the door in an attempt to beat his friends. “No fair you got it last time!”

Steve put up his hands in an attempt to quiet them. “Hey twerps I’ve still got an hour and a half left of my shift. Besides,” he turned to his girlfriend. “Y/n gets passenger side.”

Dustin and the rest of the young teens groaned. “Is this how it's gonna be from now on?”

“Yeah,” Steve said with a smile, hugging Y/n closer to him. “That’s how it’s gonna be.”

Taglist: @afraidofshrimp @halflifejess @nix-rose @palmtreesx3 @cilliansnostolgia @sweetdazequeen @blckburd @hollandweather

[tooearlyforthis]

Sunflower

pairing: Steve Harrington x Fem!Reader

summary: Y/N has a crush on Robin's friend Steve, but when she learns about his dating history she retreats in on herself.

word count: 3327

warnings: self depreciation, reader is only described as not skinny but by herself in comparison to other Stranger Things characters, happy ending guys I swear, also based off the song sunflower from that one movie (I don't remember I just get it stuck in my head)

12 Days of Christmas masterlist main masterlist

"Please?"

"No!"

"Oh, come on!" Robin had been trying for the past hour to make her best friend come with her to the movie night that Steve was hosting.

"Robin," Y/N was not budging. It's not that she didn't want to hang out with Robin, but going to a strangers house full of people when you only know one was not her idea of a fun night.

"Just give me a good reason, at least." Usually Robin stopped begging by the fourth 'no,' but tonight she was very pushy for an unknown reason.

"I don't know anyone!" Y/N hadn't gone to Hawkins High, instead being put through a private all-girls school just north of Hawkins. A school Robin visited frequently, due to Y/N's roommate, and that's how the two became friends. So while 'King' Steve Harrington may have been a legend in Hawkins, he might as well have been the post man to Y/N.

"I'll be there!" Robin clearly did not understand Y/N's worries. "I won't leave you alone, I promise."

"Give me the reason you want me to go, and I'll consider it." Robin opened her mouth. "The real reason." Y/N raised an eyebrow at her huff.

"Steve is my best friend, and I selfishly want my two best friends to also be best friends!" Robin pouted, but it made Y/N smile slightly.

"I will go just this once." Robin whooped and punched a fist in the air as she stood from the couch. "But! But, you cant ask me again." Robin seemed to happy to care about Y/N's terms anyway.

This was going to be one hell of a night.

~

"I finally got her!" Robin screamed when she walked in, not even knocking or slowly walking in. Y/N stood out outside the door, blinking as Robin began to give out hugs.

"Who?" A male voice asked, just around the corner and out of Y/N's sight.

"Is this your friend from boarding school?" A kid with curly hair asked Robin as he came to the door.

"It wasn't boarding school!" Robin knocked the back of the kids head, and Y/N's eyes widened. She was really close with these people.

"What is your name?" A girl appeared next to Y/N, causing her to jump. Everyone was still buzzing and talking in the doorway.

"Y/N," She responded, smiling when the other girl smiled. "What's your's?"

"Eleven." Y/N tried not to show her shock at the unique name. "But everyone calls me El."

"I like that name." Y/N said, feeling nice when El smiled wider. She wanted to continue her conversation, however a loud voice cut everyone off.

"Alright!" Hands clasped, a man about Y/N's age got everyone's attention. She felt her heart begin to beat out of her chest and her eyes widen slightly at the sight of him; tall, handsome as hell with the most beautiful head of hair. She struggled to hear what he had to say next. "You can come in the house, ya know." His smirk made her smile slightly, her heart racing as she tried not to act too shy.

"I just wasn't sure," She looked over at Robin, who was talking in low tones to another girl who looked about their age as well.

"Don't worry about it." The man walked over to her as she walked into the house, the kids dispersing and beginning to chatter once more. "My house is basically everyone else's anyway." He chuckled and ran a hand through his hair, shutting the door behind her. Y/N gave a small laugh and toed off her shoes, leaving them near the door before turning back to Steve.

"Your house is nice," She said, looking around and realizing her statement may have fallen a bit short. His house was immaculate upon first glance. However, when she looked closer, she realized there were no family pictures, no children's artwork or graduation pictures hanging up. Her heart sunk and she looked back at Steve, who looked a bit awkward.

"Yeah," He said, scratching his neck. "My name is Steve, by the way. I don't know if Robin told you." Y/N's eyes widened in acknowledgement.

"You're Steve!" She laughed slightly at the face he made. "No, it's just, I hear all the time about how Robin works with you. I didn't know her coworker was her best friend." She caught something flickering across Steve's face, as if there was more to the story, but then he was laughing and it was so musical that Y/N forgot all about the face. Steve's laugh seized her heart, and she tried not to blush.

I mean, how embarrassing would it be to blush at your best-friend-in-law's laugh the first time you meet them?

"Yeah, I mean, we've worked at two places together now so," Steve told her, and Y/N nodded.

"Basically married, honestly." She joked, just to make Steve laugh once more. When he did, her heart soared.

"I'm glad someone gets it." He spoke, a soft smile on his face that Y/N wanted to take a photograph of to look at forever.

God, get ahold of yourself!

"I'm Y/N." She held her hand out, and Steve took it, a small smile on his face.

"That is a lovely name." He said, and she couldn't even think about the fact that he probably has used that line a million other times because she was too busy trying to manually make the blood leave her cheeks.

"Thank you," She said, quieter now. He dropped her hand and then looked around, noticing Robin, Nancy, and Jonathan on a couch while the kids sprawled out on the floor, arguing about the movie.

"What's your favorite movie?" He asked, turning back to her.

"Uh, I guess it would be Pretty In Pink? Or actually maybe Footloose." Her eyes lit up as she ran through more movies in her head. "I really like Stand By Me too." Steve smiled.

"I have Footloose." He said simply, then turned to make his way to the living room. Y/N followed, brows furrowed in confusion. She hadn't even gotten to ask him the same question, and she wasn't sure what he was doing now.

"Alright, stop arguing." Steve walked into the middle of the kids and picked up all the movies they had taken off the shelves, not caring about the kids' protests.

"Steve, please tell Mike that no one wants to watch Ferris Bueller again!" The kid with curly hair cried out.

"We watched it like seven times in theaters already!" A kid with and dark, short hair called out, and this caused the pale kid with black hair to drop his mouth in surprise - this must be Mike.

"Because it's the best movie ever made!" Their bickering distracted them from what Steve was doing, starting to yell over each other and making the three girls in the group roll their eyes and sigh.

Y/N looked over to find a spot to sit, but she noticed Robin was deep in conversation with the same girl from earlier on the couch; she was petite and beautiful, permed hair styled perfectly and face gorgeous without makeup. Y/N was instantly jealous, no matter how much she tried to ignore it and push it down. The girl was holding the man next to her's hand.

Robin had left Y/N alone.

Her heart started to race as she stared at Robin, willing her to look over, to notice how uncomfortable she was. She didn't know where to sit now - she could sit on the love seat but then she would be sitting next to Steve, who seemed nice but she didn't know him. Her head spun ever so slightly as she tried to breathe, trying to act like she was fine. It's not a big deal. She can sit on the couch. And if it's the most awkward experience of her life, she'll blame Robin for it until the day she dies.

As she sat down, heart still racing but breathing under control, she noticed a familiar tune playing. It was the intro to one of her favorite movies.

She met Steve's eyes as he got up from the VHS player, walking over to where she was sitting.

"What the hell is this?" The kid with curly hair asked Steve, who was now seated next to Y/N, his thigh pushing into her's.

"A movie." Steve grabbed a bowl of popcorn from the small table, offering some to Y/N.

"You're such a comedian." A girl that was smaller than the rest said, eyes narrowed at Steve. He ignored her with practiced ease, taking a handful of popcorn and staring at the TV.

"You chose Footloose." Y/N whispered, heart picking up when Steve turned to look at her.

"Of course." He smirked, making her blush slightly.

"Thank you." She looked over at Robin, who was staring at the TV while shoveling popcorn into her mouth.

"I know that Robin probably told you she wouldn't leave you alone." Steve muttered, causing her to whip her head over to him.

"She didn't leave me alone." Y/N felt the need to defend her best friend, even if it was a lie.

"Y/N," The way he said her name made her heart clench. She immediately forgot what they were talking about. "I love Robin, and I know she didn't mean to, but she did leave you alone." Y/N crossed her arms.

"She just got excited." Y/N said, causing Steve to chuckle lowly.

"Believe me, I know." He scooted ever so slightly closer. "I've never seen this movie, and we've missed the first five minutes, so I'm gonna need you to explain it for me." She tried not to let her cheeks heat once more as she began to explain to Steve what was going on in the movie.

~

After going to movie night a couple more times and actually becoming friends with some of Robin's friends, she hatches her plan.

She couldn't tell Robin that she was practically in love with Steve already. Not because she didn't trust her best friend, but because she felt weird about it. She had only just met him, and they hadn't even talked all that much. She had to bring it up but make it seem like it was Robin's idea.

"I need you to help me!" Y/N cried, dramatically falling backwards on Robin's bed.

"Oh my God," Robin didn't even look up from her painting she was working on.

"I to go on a date!" She yelled. This was a common complaint, one that would cause Robin to roll her eyes most of the time.

"How am I supposed to do that?" Robin still hadn't put down her paint brush, but she was a little less focused.

"You know so many people!" Y/N tried, hoping this wasn't a little too forward.

"You're right, but not that many are - oh my God." Robin dropped her pain brush, the color splattering on her desk, just before hitting her canvas.

"What?" Y/N rolled over, almost falling off the bed.

"I'm a genius." Robin spun in her chair, grinning at Y/N.

"What?" She repeated, hoping Robin was about to be the best wingwoman ever.

"I know the perfect boyfriend for you!" The girls stared at each other for a couple moments, Robin blinking as if it was obvious. "Steve!"

"Oh." She couldn't sound too excited, but on the inside she was dancing. If she had Robin on her side, it'd be easier to get to know Steve. "I mean, I barely even know him,." Robin was so excited she didn't even bring up the fact that Y/N wouldn't have known anyone Robin brought up.

"Yeah, I could tell you everything." Robin shrugged, making Y/N's eyes go wide. "Like, he crawled backwards as a baby. Weird, right?" Robin laughed, painting forgotten.

"Okay, maybe we should skip ahead to dating history?" That was really what she wanted to know; Steve gave her the vibes of a player. She needed to be proven wrong. She was sure she was wrong.

"Right, well, he used to date Nancy." Y/N's heart sinks at Robin's words. It feels like someone just stabbed her. She regrets asking anything, regrets telling Robin she'd go to movie night. "They dated for like, a year, probably. I don't know, but they had a little thing a while ago."

"Oh," Y/N doesn't know what to say, but she clearly didn't convince Robin of anything. All Y/N can think is that she looks nothing like Nancy. Nancy who's skinny. Nancy who's hair is always perfect with her curled perm. Nancy who's eyes are the most beautiful blue. Nancy who's makeup is never too much, is always complementing her, is so beautiful. Nancy who had Steve's heart.

Fuck.

"They're like, two different people, though. Want different things. He's totally over her. It was practically forever ago." Robin continues, and Y/N tries not to show the hurt that is running through her.

"Right." Y/N nods, grabbing her book and picking it back up again.

"I'll wingwoman you." Robin turns back to her painting. "My two best friends!" She squeals, and Y/N closes her eyes, trying not to show Robin that she's disappointed.

~

Y/N doesn't go back to movie night for two weeks, despite Robin's whines and moans of protest. She wasn't going to break, either, because even though she hadn't seen him in two weeks she thought about him every day.

It was unhealthy.

It was even more unhealthy the way she studied herself in the mirror, comparing herself to Nancy. She knew she shouldn't, that there was no point, that Steve probably didn't even remember her name.

It was fine.

She was a normal human. She was a normal person. She could go to a movie with Steve. They probably wouldn't even talk.

So she agreed, making Robin the most excited she'd ever been. She could hardly wait a week for the next hang out, which was not a movie. It was a pool party.

She could do it.

"I can't do this." She whispered as she parked outside of Steve's house, Robin already getting out of her car.

"Come on!" Robin cried out, and Y/N blinked quickly before shutting her brain off and getting out of the car.

It wouldn't be that bad.

"Y/N!" Steve yells as soon as he opens the door. Her eyes widen, and Steve pushes Robin aside to put his arms around her.

"Alright," Robin says with a scoff, walking inside.

"Hi," Y/N says quietly, because she's still a little confused.

"We missed you!" He says as he pulls back. "I missed you." This was quieter, and Y/N tried her hardest not to blush.

"I missed you too." She said, watching him smile before walking with him into the house. She tries to convince herself that today will be okay.

But then the conversation shifts to Steve and his love life somehow, and one of the kids brings it up.

"Remember when you had a crush on Robin!" Dustin announces as he dissolves into laughter. Y/N's mind goes blank.

Of course Steve has a type. Of course it's the opposite of her. Robin and Nancy are gorgeous. They're both so kind, so smart, so pretty. They're both skinny.

All she can think about is the way her body looks against Nancy and Robin's. Her thigh, which is touching Steve's on the small couch that he had decided the two of them would sit on. Her face is a different shape. Robin and Nancy look like models that Y/N sees on the cover of her mother's magazines. She might as well have not come back, because there was no way Steve would ever see her like that.

And she couldn't even tell anyone; not that she had many people to tell anyway. But Robin wouldn't get it. She'd tell Y/N how beautiful and smart she was that if a man didn't want her for such a stupid reason she didn't want the man anyway. And while it was nice to hear, it wasn't what she wanted or needed now. She didn't need reminders that she was beautiful, because it wouldn't change how Steve saw her.

What had she been thinking? Of course Steve was a player - she had clocked that quickly.

"I need more popcorn!" Robin announces in the middle of the movie. "And Y/N needs to come with me." The way she said it made Y/N realize that she knew something was wrong, and now her best friend was not letting her out of this.

"What?" Y/N asked quietly when they got to the kitchen.

"Seriously?" Robin almost exploded.

"What?" Y/N furrowed her brows, and Ron scoffed as she rolled her eyes.

"You've been acting weird." Robin explains, and Y/N shakes her head dramatically. "No I haven't." She says, grabbing the popcorn and putting it on the pan they've been keeping on the stove.

"Yes, you have. What's going on?" Robin asks, walking to the stove to stand next to Y/N. "You can tell me." This is softer, just as the popcorn begins to pop.

"It's nothing, Rob." Y/N sighs.

"Are you sure? Because I don't want to make you uncomfortable when you come here but I just want you to hang out. And I thought you wanted me to try and set you up with Steve, but you haven't even looked at him all night despite the fact that you're sitting right next to each other." Robin talks it out, and she's getting closer to the truth. The popcorn is done, so Y/N takes it off the hot stove and puts it on a pot holder, but neither of them leave.

"Steve liked Nancy." Y/N says, not able to face Robin. She can only look at the back tile above the stove. "And he liked you. So he clearly has a type." She looks to the side that Robin isn't on, trying to keep the tears at bay.

"Y/N," Robin puts a hand on her shoulder.

"He likes roses. He likes the skinny, perfect hair, perfect body, perfect face. And that is not me. I am not a rose." She takes a deep breath, wiping her face and preparing to leave.

"I hate roses." Steve says from behind her, and Y/N jumps. She turns, and he's standing there with wide eyes that pull at her heart.

"Steve," She didn't want him to hear any of that, but he clearly heart at least the last part.

"When you first showed up here, I called Robin that night to ask if I had a chance with you." Steve admits, and Y/N parts her lips in surprise. She turns to her friend.

"You never told me that." She whispers, and Robin has a sly smile on her face.

"I knew you guys would find your way to each other." She grabs the popcorn and leaves Y/N and Steve to their conversation.

"I'm not the same guy I was in high school. And I know the rumors that went around, and some of them were true. But I'm more mature now, and I really like you." He admits, making Y/N's cheeks heat up. "I've been waiting for you to come to movie night again so I could ask you out. Robin wouldn't give me any of your information because she said I had to do it on my own." Steve steps closer, and Y/N has to take a shuddering breath.

"Sorry," Y/N says, and Steve shakes his head as he moves some hair out of her eyes.

"Don't apologize." He whispers, then grabs her hand. "So, would you like to go on a date with me?" He asks, and she smiles.

"Yes." She whispers, nodding slowly. He smiled.

"And by the way," He says as they walk back into the room. "I find you very, very attractive." She can feel the heat all the way down her chest, but she lets him lead her into the living room and to the couch. She even lets him cuddle her through the movie, even while his friends tease him.

She's never felt more beautiful. 

//

tags: @avada-kedavra-bitch-187  @one-sweet-gubler @theoraekenslover @sadbitchfangirl @gloryekaterina  @oblivion-void @alexshaff2002 @m-rae23 @icequeen1371 @mcueveryday @parkershoco @feelinglikeineedlotsofnaps @peculiarwren @kenzi-woycehoski @multifandom-boss-bitch @freezaz123 @mads-weasley @johnricharddeacy @sweetdreamsshifter @param8re @ashlynhasmanyhyperfixations @wish-upon-a-star-1310 @fangisms

[tooearlyforthis]

"your teens are about" "your 20s are about" there's no schedule babes

[tooearlyforthis]

fall right into me

pairing: steve harrington x fem!reader

summary: when something happens to your apartment and you need a place to stay, steve, your best friend, is quick to provide it for you. your prolonged proximity forces you both to realize some things.

word count: 13.6k

warnings: childhood bffs to lovers, absolute idiots in love, mentions of a negative relationship with parents, probably inaccurate descriptions of some things but it’s (say it with me) for the plot!!!

a/n: i know it’s been a LONG time since i’ve posted a long fic so thank u guys for ur patience <3 i had so much fun getting back to it and writing these two, and i hope it’s at least a little bit worth the wait!!! ily :,)

𝜗𝜚

Your shoes are still wet as you dial the first number that comes to mind: Steve’s.

He picks up on the third ring. “Hello?”

“Hey, Steve.”

“Hi,” you can imagine him on the other side of the phone, leaning casually against the wall, an easy smile on his face, “what’s going on?”

You’re not quite sure where to start.

Coming home from work earlier, you’d been excited to shower and change and lay around for the rest of the evening, your book hanging open in your lap and some mindless TV filling the silence.

The day seemed to have other plans for you, though, because as you walked down the stairs to your apartment—one in the basement of a sweet, older couple’s house who just never used the space and converted it—the carpet had made an ugly squelch as soon as you stepped on it.

You looked down at your shoe against the carpet, at the way its color was darker than usual from whatever water had gotten into it. Looking up, you found a complete mess. A piece of the ceiling hanging open right above your bed, water still dripping in steady drops from the gap, your bedding ruined among many other things.

You don’t know how long you stood there, hand over your mouth, eyes flickering over the damage like you were hoping it would vanish, like it was only something you imagined.

Unfortunately, it wasn’t.

The couple who owns the house came down when they heard you shout for them, unsure of what else to do. They’d both gasped when they came down, and began apologizing for something that really wasn’t their fault before one ran up to call whoever it was they needed to call to fix this and the other comforted you with a gentle “we’ll take care of it, sweetie.”

You nodded, eyes still roaming your space that was now uninhabitable.

It’s an old house, something was bound to happen at some point, you only wished it wasn’t so inconvenient for you. A small leak, you could have handled, but the ceiling practically caving in?

Yeah, it was a complete fucking mess.

Hours later, with the damage assessed and set to take a few weeks to fix up, you’re on the phone with the one person you’d known would pick up.

You fill Steve in on what happened, and his first response is a sigh of, “Shit.”

“Yeah, shit,” you agree. “And now I’m gonna have to live with my parents for a while and I don’t know how I’m gonna go back into that house, Steve.”

If you’re being honest, the couple you live with now was kinder to you than your parents were. You suppose that’s one of the many things that you and Steve have bonded over.

“Just come live with me, instead,” he offers without hesitation.

Steve says it like it’s obvious, a no-brainer, and you guess it should be, since you’ve slept over at the Harrington’s house countless times before. Only, this is different because you’d be staying for a while, because you’d be needing his help, which makes you feel all awkward and guilty.

He’s been your absolute best friend for as long as you can remember, and you’re one hundred percent sure you’d offer the same thing if the roles were reversed, but that doesn’t make it any easier for you to accept, not when you’re already frazzled from the events of the day.

“No, Steve, I’m sorry I’m just being dramatic,” you say, twisting the phone’s cord around your finger. “I’ll be fine, really. It’s just a month, or so, and I don’t wanna be in your way or-”

“When have you ever cared about being in my way, angel?” The pet name he’s called you ever since your ninth grade Halloween party slips out naturally, the way it always does. “Besides, this house is too fucking big for me as it is, and you know my parents won’t be around to care, either.”

“I can’t ask you to let me move in, Steve.”

“Well then, it’s a good thing you’re not asking. I’m offering. It’ll be like that one week when we were twelve and you stayed over for spring break, only longer. It’s perfect!”

There’s a small smile ghosting across your face as you recall the memory he’s talking about. A blanket fort in their spacious living room, sleeping bags and pillows piled inside it along with two flashlights.

You can picture the way he looks on the other end of the phone, his hair a bit messy from running his hands through it during the day, one strand rogue against his forehead, his shoulder leaned carelessly against the wall the way it usually is when he stands. Like he can’t be bothered to hold himself up, like there’s constantly a weight on him.

“Are you sure about this, Steve? It’s really okay if you’re not. I swear I’ll be fine.”

“As if I’m letting you spend multiple weeks back in your parent’s house. You’re staying with me, alright?” His voice is insistent, yet kind, letting you know that he’s being honest, that he means it. “We’ll order pizzas and watch shitty romcoms, ‘kay?”

“You can call romcoms shitty all you want, but we both know you get teary at every single one.”

“Don't change the subject, angel. Also, fuck off,” he says, though you can hear the smile in his voice. “So, you’re living with me, yeah?”

You don’t think you could say no to him even if you wanted to.

“Yeah, alright, Steve. Thank you so much.”

“None of that. I know you’d do the same.”

There’s something beautiful about the kind of trust and ease that comes with a friendship as long as yours. One where you’ve watched each other grow up, awkward phases and all, and stuck together the entire way. There’s no questioning whether or not you’d be there for each other if you were in need.

It’s known, felt. Like a fact.

“Now,” he continues, “I’ll pick you up, okay? Ten minutes, tops.”

“Okay.”

“You need me to bring boxes for your stuff?”

“I’m not sure how much is worth keeping. It’s pretty ugly in there.”

Your voice goes small at the end, because the gravity of it all is really sinking in. You’ll have to replace a lot of stuff. Stuff you don’t have money for right now.

But, you haven’t let yourself cry just yet, so you swallow it down.

“I’ll bring some anyway, then. We’ll figure it out, angel, don’t worry.”

“Thanks again, Steve. See you soon.”

“Ten minutes,” he assures you, then the line clicks.

-

True to his word, Steve arrives in under ten minutes, which isn’t surprising considering the size of Hawkins, but feels reassuring all the same.

You’re sitting on the curb in front of the house when Steve’s BMW pulls over on the other side of the road, and you stand just as he climbs out and shuts his door, rounding the car and jogging over to you.

His keys jingle as he tucks them into the pocket of his faded jeans, his opposite hand coming up to squeeze your shoulder, “You okay?”

The warmth of his palm seeps through your work shirt that you’ve yet to change out of, and you let your eyes fall shut just for a second before looking at his face, “Guess so,” you nod. “Maybe ask me again after all of this?”

Steve’s arm winds itself over your shoulders, tugging you into his side and dropping a kiss to the top of your head, simple as an instinct. “I’ve got you. We’ll get through this, angel.”

We’ll, he says. A team.

You reach up and squeeze his hand and nod, guiding him to the side-entrance leading to your basement apartment.

“I hope you didn’t wear your good shoes for this,” you say.

Steve looks down at his feet and shrugs, “Shoes can be replaced.”

He lets you lead the way down the stairs, his footsteps close behind yours. You wince when you look at the damage again, even though you’d seen it minutes ago. You can't bring yourself to look at Steve, to see the reaction on his face, because you think it’ll just make it all more real.

He mouths the word ‘fuck’ while you aren’t looking, then claps his hands once. “Okay, let’s figure out what we can save, yeah? Where do you want me?”

You’re grateful for his gentle guidance at what to do. “Maybe the bathroom? Everything in there should be fine, so it just needs to be packed.”

��‘Kay. I’ll just go grab some boxes from my car,” Steve says. He squeezes your hand once before heading up the stairs. “I’ll be right back.”

You decide to tackle the worst spot first. Though the place is more like a studio, the side that houses your bed and your closet is the most affected, so you head over there and try to tune out the squish of the carpet beneath your feet.

You’re opening the sliding doors to your closet when Steve comes back, dropping a stack of boxes by your feet and running his hand down your arm softly before heading over to the bathroom to pack for you.

Even his presence seems to be making things a little bit easier for you, and each time he finds a small way to touch you or speak to you, to remind you that he’s there, you’re glad for it.

Half of your closet is a gross, wet mess, but some things are salvageable, which you take as a win. Things might be damp, but at least it’s only water, you suppose. A cycle in the dryer and most things will be wearable again.

Your dresses that are hung get the worst of it, soaked and smelly, and you decide that it’d be easier to get a couple new ones than to try and save what’s there.

Steve checks in every now and then, poking his head out of the bathroom’s doorway to look at you and make sure you’re doing alright, giving you a thumbs up when you look over to him.

You’re not sure how you’d be managing this if you were alone, and you’re thankful that you don’t have to.

The next time he checks on you, you’re by your nightstand.

Sitting atop of it is a framed picture of you and Steve from summer camp when you were around ten years old, maybe younger. Only now, the picture’s stained with water and the frame you’d decorated all those years ago at camp is a splotchy mess.

Where yours and Steve’s handwriting used to be, is now a blur from the water seeping into the wooden frame, the marker’s colors muddy. You frown, picking it up and running your thumb over the edge.

Before you can stop yourself, you’re tearing up, frustrated and sad and tired. Memories like this one are the most special to you, the ones that have kept you going for so long, and just like that, the picture that’s sat on your nightstand since being taken is gone, and it fucking sucks.

“Hey, angel?” Steve calls.

When all you do is sniffle and mumble an “mhm?” in response, he sets the box he’d been packing on the bathroom counter and walks over to you.

He comes up behind you, resting his hands on your upper-arms and peering over your shoulder at the ruined picture.

“It was my favorite one,” you say, voice breaking a little. You wipe your tear away as it trails down your cheek, your own fingertips too harsh against your skin.

Although it’s soaked and splotchy now, Steve knows which picture it is. The one where you’ve both got your neon summer camp t-shirts on, the one where his cheeks and nose are completely sunburnt and you’re both grinning up at the camera from your seats on the ground.

Steve’s clutching a stick in his hand for some reason, and you’ve got your fist tangled in the sleeve of his shirt.

It feels like no time and forever has passed since then.

Steve grabs the picture and pries it gently from your hands, setting it back onto the table and turning you around in his grip to face him.

“We can fix it,” he tells you, his brown eyes all soft as his hands come up to cup your face, thumbs swiping your tears away.

“But the frame-”

“We’ll fix it, angel. I’ll find a way, okay? We can pack it in one of the boxes and figure it out.”

“Steve-”

“Look at me,” he urges you when your gaze flickers to the ground. You listen. “This fucking sucks, I know it does, but you’re strong and I’m here, and we can handle this.”

His voice is quiet, but sure. You search his face for any trace of a lie and find none. He really believes what he’s saying, and he really believes in you.

“Thank you for being here.” You take a deep breath and drop your forehead against the collar of his shirt. “I’m sorry for crying. I know it’s kinda stupid. Most of this is replaceable, it’s just-”

“It’s not stupid,” he says, letting his chin rest atop your head. “You’re allowed to cry. Hell, I’d probably be kicking and screaming on the floor like I'm back in the terrible twos.”

You laugh wetly into his shirt.

“Now,” he says, pulling back and putting his hands on his hips, “the quicker we pack, the quicker we go home. I’ll even let you wear a pair of my good fuzzy socks.”

A smile tugs at your mouth. “Deal.”

-

Steve wouldn’t let you do much of the work after that.

Instead, he simply held up items for you to assess from where you’d been leaning against the wall and packed it into a box if it was a ‘yes,’ or tossing it aside dramatically just to try and get you to laugh if it was a ‘no.’

Once things were sorted through and packed, you loaded everything into Steve’s car—which wasn’t a whole bunch, considering how much you had to leave behind.

You’d refused to let Steve carry the boxes all on his own, though he tried, but he still managed to open the doors for you whenever you made it to his car, even when his own hands were full, too.

By the time you were finished, you were drained. It felt like you’d lived multiple days in the one. An eight hour shift opening at the store, then coming home to a wrecked apartment. All you wanted to do was shower and lay down and not get back up.

Steve knows you well enough to be able to tell when it’s time to fill the silence and when it isn’t, and on the drive back to his place, while your head was leaned against his window, he knew to stay quiet and give you a bit of space.

He turned the radio on, but not too loud, letting the songs hum through the speakers. At every stop sign, he reached over and gave your thigh a light squeeze. Reassuring, kind, somehow exactly what you needed at the moment. Nothing more, nothing less.

You were no stranger to the Harrington’s house, having been there countless times since you were little, but it feels more intimidating now, knowing you’ll be staying. You feel silly for being worried, but you are. Asking for help makes you feel like a burden.

Steve, however, doesn’t let you entertain that thought for long, parking in his driveway and jogging around to open the passenger door for you. “Honey, we’re home!”

“Dork,” you say, though you accept his hand and let him tug you up out of the car.

Grabbing the first couple of boxes, Steve leads you inside and upstairs, right to the guest room across the hall from his own bedroom. The closest one to him.

The house has at least two guest rooms, though you suppose with how little Steve's parents are around, you could consider there to be three. Three spare rooms and Steve puts you up in the nearest one possible. It makes your heart squish in your chest, how caring he is. He doesn’t even have to try, really, the goodness in him shows even when he tries to keep it hidden.

It only takes a few trips down to his car and back before all of your boxes are stacked against the wall. You decide you’ll deal with them later.

Steve runs over to his room and grabs a set of pajamas that you’d left there, and hands them to you. “I figured you’d wanna wash up.”

“You calling me smelly, Harrington?”

“Shut up, I think you smell nice. Usually.”

“Hey!”

“I’m teasing, angel.” He ruffles your hair. You swat his hand away. “You know where the bathroom is, and there should be soap and stuff in the shower already. Just yell if you need something, okay?”

You do know where the bathroom is. You have your own toothbrush in a cup by the sink, a set of travel-sized skin care products in the cupboard behind the mirror for whenever you end up staying over.

It’s funny, you’ve always felt more at home here than at your own parents house, and though he hasn’t said it to you, Steve much prefers this house when you’re in it. There’s a warmth that comes with your presence that makes him ache when it’s not around.

You nod, “Thank you again for letting me stay, Steve. I won’t be in the way, promise.”

“I want you in the way. You know you’re always welcome. This is no different.” He shrugs, “Plus, it’ll be nice having you around. Place always feels so empty when it’s just me.”

“Maybe I’ll just stay forever, then,” you say, tone light and joking.

Steve, completely serious, says, “I’d let you.”

There’s a zip that goes through you when he says it, quick as lightning, something you’ve never felt—or noticed, rather—around him. It throws you off just a little.

“Anyways,” Steve cuts your thoughts short, “I’ll let you get settled. Pizza will be waiting for you when you’re done.”

He leaves the room before you can thank him again, his footsteps retreating and heading downstairs.

You’ve been to his house a million times, so you don’t really feel the need to ‘get settled’ but you desperately need a shower so that’s where you go.

You stay in for longer than you need to, letting the too-hot water run down your neck and back.

When you finally do step out of the bathroom, now clad in your pajamas, and head downstairs, Steve’s sitting on the couch in the living room, the romcoms he owns sitting out in front of the TV for you to choose from, your favorite blanket resting on your side of the couch, and pizza boxes on the coffee table just as promised.

It’s the best thing in the world, you think, to have a friend like Steve.

-

You’ve been staying at Steve’s for a couple of days already, and time seems to fly by a little quicker when you’re there, especially when you’re around him.

He’s taken it upon himself to have coffee ready in the pot for you every morning, one of your favorite mugs already next to it on the counter. You’ve cooked breakfasts together (pancakes one day, where you’d done most of the work, or something simple as toast when you both have to get to work), ordered dinners, and Steve comes home from his shifts with a new movie to watch almost every day.

It’s been so nice. Almost perfect, actually.

This morning, the first day where your shifts happen to be at the exact same time, he’d even insisted on driving you to work. It was an easy yes, considering it wasn’t out of his way at all.

After a short stint of working together at the grocery store in ninth grade, and your subsequent firing from the job after a month of constantly distracting each other on the clock, Tim, the grocery manager, took it upon himself to warn Hawkins not to hire the both of you together.

Eventually, you’d taken the closest you could get which resulted in you working at the arcade and Steve next door at Family Video.

You share a parking lot. Steve already drives you to work most days. You like to put up a bit of a fight just to annoy him.

Though you haven’t worked together in years, and he isn’t far away by any means, you miss having Steve around on days like this. Where the arcade is quiet save for the sounds of the games in the background, where you’re simply babysitting the desk and cleaning things multiple times to try and make the hours pass by.

If Steve were with you, he’d make stupid jokes that you don’t wanna laugh at but do, or coerce you into playing the games while on the clock with the change you find whenever you’re cleaning.

He’d probably trash talk you, and bump your hip with his while playing pinball, and be a sore loser, and for some reason you want him around so bad.

You chalk it up to getting used to spending hours and hours with him, every single day, these past couple of days. Staying with him has made you miss him more, you think.

That’s it.

Meanwhile, over at Family Video, Steve isn’t feeling too different from you.

He’s spent the morning stocking shelves, memories popping into his head whenever he’d come across a movie you loved or watched together, while Robin’s been manning the desk.

Then, when his cart was empty and put back into the back room, he sat on the chair behind the front desk, spinning around until Robin stopped him with her foot and asked what he was thinking so hard about.

Steve caught her up on what had happened with your apartment (you’d told him he could tell her, because she’s your friend too and would find out sooner or later) and how you’d ended up staying with him in his house.

She raised her eyebrows and hummed in a way that was automatically suspicious, because Robin isn’t very good at hiding things.

“What?” Steve asks.

“Nothing.” When Steve only gives her a pointed look, Robin continues, “Well… are you sure that’s a good idea?”

Now, Robin is one of Steve’s closest friends, and him one of hers, and she supports him in pretty much everything that he does even when she teases him relentlessly along the way, but she cares about both of you and doesn’t want to see anyone hurt.

She can read Steve better than he can read himself, probably, because to Robin, it’s clear that he feels more than friendly towards you. And he doesn’t even know it.

When they became closer, it was clear to Robin, even before meeting you, just from the way Steve spoke of you, that there was a spot reserved for you in his life that couldn’t be filled by anyone else.

He would say it’s that of ‘best friend’ but Robin would call it something even bigger than that. Still, even though she thinks he’s an absolute dingus, she’s trying to let Steve figure it out for himself.

Clearly, it’s taking fucking forever.

He looks confused at her question, “Why wouldn’t it be a good idea?”

Robin sighs and resists the urge to drop her forehead against the desk and decides on, “You know what they say: become friends with your roommates, don’t become roommates with your friends.”

“Whoever they are, they’re dumb as shit,” Steve says. “She’s been over, slept over, hundreds of times. It’s not any different, just longer.”

“I guess so,” she settles on. “The rules of the world never really seem to apply to you two.”

“That’s because the rules of the world are also dumb as shit.”

“How would you know? It’s not like you’ve ever tried following them.”

“‘Cause I’m a rule breaker, Robs.”

Steve wiggles his eyebrows. Robin shoves the rolling chair he’s sitting on with her foot, sending it into the other side of the desk with a thud.

“Don’t think that smoking weed in your backyard is enough to call yourself a rule breaker, dingus.”

-

That night, your routine was pretty much the same.

Steve was already waiting for you in his car when you left the arcade, a smile spreading onto his face when he saw you making your way across the parking lot to him, your skirt swishing a little with the breeze.

Rather than go straight home, you made a stop at your apartment to talk things over with the couple who owned the home. They’d met with a builder and plumber about getting everything fixed and wanted to walk you through it all.

Steve came with you and held your hand, and both of them cooed at him and pinched his cheeks and called him a cutie before getting to the important stuff.

After going over what had to be done (rip out the carpet, replace it, fix the pipes and make sure no others were at risk, replace the ceiling, and more you couldn’t even remember already), they’d assured you that they would be taking care of it all. Covering the entire cost.

You probably would’ve argued if not for how little money was in your bank account, and how stubborn you knew these people to be. Instead, you’d squeezed them both and thanked them while your eyes grew misty with tears.

Steve’s hand stayed in yours and squeezed when you sniffled.

He knew, because he knew pretty much everything about you, that these people were kinder to you than even your own parents. That, if this had happened at their house, they would’ve found a way to blame you for it.

You feel lucky to have found that kind of parental love elsewhere, sad that you didn’t know exactly what it felt like beforehand.

After giving the couple Steve’s phone number to call in case they needed you and giving them both another hug, you and Steve headed back home.

Home, you call it. Like it’s yours.

Sometimes it feels like it is.

Later, after you and Steve have both showered and had dinner and gotten comfy in your sweats, you’re back in the living room, Steve shows you the movie he’s brought back this time.

“Gremlins?” You ask, smiling and shaking your head.

“Hell yeah, angel. It’s a classic.”

Steve sets everything up, joining you on the couch after pressing ‘play’ on the movie and adjusting the volume with your guidance.

“So, how was work?” Steve asks during the opening credits. The two of you have a hard time being next to each other and not talking. It’s why you get dirty looks whenever you go to the movies.

“Weekdays are so boring, Steve,” you say, letting your head fall against the back of the couch. “You’re so lucky you have Robin to entertain you during the day. I think I dusted like, ten times at least.”

“Robin is a pain in my ass.” He says. He doesn’t really mean it, because even when she is, he’s glad to have her around. A different kind of gladness than he feels with you. “She kept pushing me every time I sat in the rolling chair. There’s probably a dent in the desk.”

“That’s because you were probably hogging the chair, Steve.”

“What the fuck!” Steve’s smiling when he says it, lacking any sort of anger. “You’re supposed to be on my side.”

Your smile mirrors his, the way it always does. It’s contagious, you think, the way his eyes crinkle at the corner.

Shrugging, you say, “I don’t know, I’d wanna push you around on that chair too, I think.”

“You’d spin me too much. I’d get sick all over you and then nobody’s happy.”

“Don’t talk about barf while I’m eating, Harrington.”

You throw a piece of popcorn at him. It bounces off his cheek and lands on his lap, and he doesn’t even flinch. Steve just picks it up and pops it into his mouth.

When the bowl’s empty, you lean forward and set it on the coffee table before sinking back into the couch, Steve's shoulder brushing yours. You let the warmth seep through your clothes and shut your eyes.

It’s a little more than halfway through the movie when Steve realizes you’re asleep. You’d been quiet, sure, but Steve only thought that meant you were paying attention to the movie.

That was, until your head slipped and rested against his shoulder.

He looked down at you, at the hair falling across your forehead (he smoothed it away gently, so it wouldn’t be in your eyes or your mouth), your eyebrows relaxed and free of any worry, your chest rising and falling with steady breaths.

He thinks of how tired you must be, after everything. Your apartment and dealing with the aftermath both emotionally and physically, working long shifts most days to keep your bank account full.

Steve, though he doesn’t let himself look too deep into it, also thinks of how beautiful you are. Now and always.

Not wanting you to get a kink in your neck from the position, Steve decides to rouse you from sleep as gently as possible. He slips a hand under your head to keep it steady and maneuvers himself to kneel in front of you.

“Hey, angel,” he almost whispers, thumb dragging across your cheek. “C’mon, let’s get you to bed.”

Your nose scrunches and you grumble, but after some coaxing, you blink your eyes open and squint at Steve. You blame your half-asleep mind on the way you nuzzle into his palm. “Hmm?”

“You fell asleep.”

“Oh, sorry,” you mumble.

Steve laughs softly. “Don’t be sorry, I just didn’t want you to be uncomfortable.”

The warmth of his hand leaves your cheek as he stands and holds his hands out for you to grab. He pulls you up off the couch and starts leading you towards the stairs.

You knuckle at your eyes on the way, a tiny smile gracing your face at how sweet Steve’s being. As if you haven’t fallen asleep on his couch plenty of times before.

Still sleepy, you stumble a little on the stairs, but Steve catches you easily with an arm around your waist and a small “Careful.”

He leaves his arm there the rest of the way to what’s become your bedroom, guiding you over to the bed and lifting the covers for you.

Tomorrow, you’ll regret not brushing your teeth or washing your face before climbing in bed. But today, you don’t feel like risking not being able to sleep again if you wake yourself up further.

You’re practically asleep again by the time you’re settled with your head on the pillow as Steve tugs the blankets over you.

You’re just awake enough to feel the light press of his lips on your forehead and a soft “Goodnight, angel” against your skin before he leaves the room and shuts the door behind him.

-

On a random Thursday that you and Steve both have off, he convinces you to let him take you to the mall.

“We should go shopping,” he says when you walk into the kitchen. It’s a little later in the morning, having slept in since it’s a day off, the sun slipping through the window in warm beams.

You raise your eyebrows at him. “Like, groceries?”

“No, like shopping shopping. You know, the mall?”

You lean against the kitchen island, the countertop cool on your back where it touches the sliver of skin between your tank top and sleep shorts. Steve has his shoulder against the fridge, his arms crossed over his chest, the sleeves of his t-shirt tight against his muscles. Not that you’re looking.

You squint at him, trying to find his motive on his face. “You literally buy whatever the mannequins are wearing to avoid shopping.”

“That’s what they’re there for!” The sass in his voice has you biting back a smile. “You need new clothes,” he continues, “and I need to get out of this house.”

“We can do something else, Steve,” you say. “I thought you hated shopping.”

“Well, I don’t hate you.” There’s a pause, Steve’s eyes lowering to that sliver of skin above your shorts. He flicks them back to your face quickly, hoping you didn’t notice, because even he’s not sure what compelled his eyes to wander. “Plus, Eddie called me a hermit the other day and I really can’t stand for that, can I?”

“Ohhh,” you ignore the way your skin suddenly feels warm beneath his gaze, “so you need to make a public appearance to prove Eddie wrong?”

“Exactly. We’ll replace some of the things you lost and restore my reputation. Two birds, one stone, right angel?”

So that’s how you’d ended up at the mall. After Starcourt burnt down, the closest place was a couple towns over, and Steve (as always) offered to drive.

He lets you pick the music the entire way, sings along when you hold your water bottle by his mouth like a microphone, even attempts to harmonize with you which just ends in laughter because neither of you sounded that great.

You’re a couple of stores in, and Steve’s been complaint-free so far—which makes sense, since this was his idea, but you’ve caught him side-eyeing some things, so you know he’s got some remarks in his head he just hasn’t said out loud—and follows you around as you browse. You try not to take too long, because you can’t imagine that this is any fun for him.

“How about that one?” Steve asks, pointing at one of the dresses hanging along the store’s wall.

He’d seen your apartment, though that was a bit ago, and he remembered what you’d lost the most of, along with the type of stuff you like. He pays attention like that, in small, quiet ways that you think mean the most.

He knows you. He cares enough to know you.

“Yeah, that’s really pretty, actually,” you admit.

At your approval, Steve grabs one in your size (which he also just happens to know) and adds it to the couple of things he’d already been holding for you. Every time you picked something up, he was quick to snatch it from you, telling you it was ‘too hard to browse with your hands full.’

After making your way through the rest of the store, you decided to head back to try things on, holding out a hand for the stuff Steve’s holding. “You can wait out here, I’ll be quick.”

“Hold on,” he says, holding the hangers out of your reach. “Why do you think I’m here, angel? I wanna help you pick.”

“Seriously?”

“Yes, seriously. Give me a fashion show, yeah?”

“Oh my God,” you mumble, letting him follow you to the fitting rooms.

They’re hidden behind the back wall of the store, a hallway painted bright blue with pink changeroom doors on one side, and white benches along the other.

“Hi there,” an employee with auburn hair greets you both, her smile wide and kind, though you know it’s a practiced one. Customer service smile. “How many you got there, darling?”

“Oh, um,” you turn back towards Steve, who’s counting the hangers in his hand. “Five.”

“Perfect!” The girl takes the key hanging around her neck and unlocks one of the rooms for you. She takes the clothes from Steve and hangs them up inside for you, then turns to the two of you and says, “Your man can have a seat right here. We call them the ‘boyfriend benches.’”

“He’s not my-”

“Thanks,” Steve says, cutting off your correction because for some reason he didn’t want you to correct her.

Did he… like the idea of being your boyfriend?

Fuck. No. He just didn’t want you to have to explain the whole situation in your rambly way. That’s all.

The redhead smiles again, “Holler if you need anything,” she says before walking off.

You stand there for a second, something like confusion on your face. Did it look like you were boyfriend and girlfriend?

“Come on,” Steve says, snapping the both of you out of whatever that was. “Show me what you’ve got.”

“I can't believe you’re making me do this,” you say, walking into the fitting room and shutting the door.

You try on a couple of sweaters first, and Steve feels the fabric both times, making sure that it’s not scratchy on your skin. Then, there’s just some basic t-shirts that aren’t all that exciting, but Steve says they look nice anyway.

Finally, you get to the dress he picked out.

It really was pretty. A midi-length with a ruffled hem and straps that tie into little bows on your shoulders. You don’t always feel good in your clothes. Sometimes you wish you could crawl out of your skin when you look into the mirror, but right now, you don’t hate what you see.

You actually like it.

“Well?” Steve calls softly from the bench.

In response, you open the door and step out so he can see you.

Steve’s seen you in plenty of dresses—hell, you went to prom together—but for some reason this one makes his heart beat just a little bit quicker. Maybe it’s simply the fact that it looks great on you, or the way you’re smiling shyly as he looks you over.

Or, maybe it’s because he’s the one who picked it.

He stands up, spinning his finger in the air in a gesture for you to twirl. You roll your eyes but do it anyway, and he can’t take his eyes off of you. The hallway of fitting rooms isn’t very big, so with both of you in it, you’re standing toe to toe, the gold flecks in the middle of Steve’s eyes and the faint freckles that dot his nose are visible from where you stand.

As if he can’t help it, Steve lifts a finger and dips it beneath the strap on your shoulder. Not moving it or undoing it, just gliding along your skin where it sits.

“You look beautiful,” he says. His voice goes all quiet and soft when he says it, and his eyes widen a tiny bit, like he hadn’t meant it to slip out that way. It sounded… more than friendly. He clears his throat and steps back as much as he can in the small space, his finger leaving your skin. “I have great taste. Clearly.”

You blink at him, then shake yourself out of it as much as you can. “Yeah. Don’t let it get to your head.” You lift the tag where it hangs by your armpit and look at the price. You gasp and swat Steve’s arm. “Steve! Why would you let me walk into a place so expensive?”

You probably should’ve looked at the tag beforehand, but here you are. Steve, shrugging exaggeratedly, says, “I didn’t know!”

“Okay, I’m gonna change before she comes back. We can make a run for it.”

“We’re not stealing.”

“I know, but they look at you all judgemental when you try stuff on and don’t buy something. Trust me.”

You turn and go back into the fitting room to put on your own clothes, taking a look at the dress in the mirror one last time before shaking your head at yourself.

Steve, however, takes the opportunity to leave you and head back out into the store. He finds the dress easily and grabs another one in your size from the rack and heads to the cashier.

He’s just finishing up, bag in hand, when you walk out and meet him at the front of the store.

“For you,” he says, holding out the bag for you to take.

“Steve…” You grab it and look inside. Your chest aches when you see the dress, your heart suddenly too full and your stomach fluttering stupidly. “You didn’t have to do that. I would’ve been fine with something from the Gap.”

“I know that,” he says, a hand lifting to scratch at the back of his neck. It’s a nervous tick of his, and the thought of him being nervous right now makes you melt even more. “I wanted to get it for you. You looked too pretty in it not to have it.”

Your eyes catch his, and again, something passes between you that you don’t think you’ve ever felt before. A fizzle, a spark.

You rock back on your feet, looking down at the ground before meeting his eyes again. They’re so fucking soft it makes you wonder how lucky you have to be to have him in your life. Being your best friend, driving you to work even when he doesn’t have a shift, offering you a place to stay, buying you a dress.

He’s the sweetest boy you’ve ever known.

“Well,” you twist the straps of the bag around your fingers just to keep them busy. “Thank you, Steve. This is really nice.”

His knuckle traces down your arm just once, featherlight. “You’re welcome, angel.”

You don’t buy anything else after that, instead stopping at the food court for fries, stealing from each other’s baskets, smiling and slapping hands away.

It’s the best day you’ve had in a while.

-

You don’t think anything you do will convey just how grateful you are that Steve has been so kind to you. Always, but especially now. Letting you stay with him and refusing to let you pay rent. (“I don’t even pay rent, and I live here all the time.”)

But, this morning, you’ve decided you’re gonna try.

Steve’s favorite meal of the day happens to be breakfast, which is funny, considering he usually eats something as simple as cereal. He’d told you once that it was because, as a kid, breakfast was the most peaceful of meals, his parents too busy getting ready for work or wherever they were going that he’d have the kitchen table to himself.

Lunch was usually spent at school, and Steve was never a fan of school to begin with. Then there was dinner, which his parents (when they were home) still wanted to have all together. They’d ask him questions and make backhanded comments about every single answer he gave. He never won at dinner.

So, breakfast was, and has remained, his favorite.

You made sure to get up early enough to give yourself time to get everything ready before he wakes up. Steve’s usually the one making the coffee in the morning, and you figured the least you could do was give him a break.

Yesterday, while Steve had been at work, you went over to the Wheeler’s and asked Nancy if you could borrow their waffle maker. She’d directed the question to her mother, who went and grabbed it for you and handed it over with a smile. You promised to take good care of it and have it back in a couple of days.

By the time Steve walks into the kitchen, you’ve already made the batter and set out the toppings—berries, maple syrup, whipped cream—like a buffet. However, he just so happens to come in as you’re swearing at the waffle maker.

“Stupid fucking thing,” you mutter, trying to open it.

Steve smiles to himself before saying, “Morning, angel.”

You jump at his voice, not having heard him walk in. When you turn around, your heart beats for a different reason.

Steve’s still only in his pajama pants, plaid and soft, hanging low on his hips. And he’s shirtless, his chest smattered with hair and his skin a little tanned from the sun. He’s got beauty marks all over, like a constellation you could chart, and his abs are just visible beneath the soft of his stomach. A trail of hair leading to the waistband of his pants and disappearing beneath them.

You’ve seen Steve shirtless plenty of times. Swimming and sleeping over in the summer, in high school when you used to go to his practices, but it hits you harder for some reason this time.

The way his hair is still a mess from sleep, his eyes a bit heavy. The way it feels to be greeting him in the kitchen, cooking breakfast. Intimate. Domestic.

You clear your throat and turn back around to pry the waffle maker open, revealing a slightly burnt but otherwise good-looking waffle. “I’m making breakfast. Coffee’s already in the pot, too.”

He walks over, his chest close to your back as he grabs a mug from the cabinet above you before heading over to pour himself a cup. He looks at the spread you’ve prepared, “Waffles, huh? What did I do to deserve all this?”

“Just wanted to do something nice for you,” you say as Steve walks over to lean against the counter next to you, his hip barely touching yours. “To thank you, in a way. For letting me stay and the dress and-”

“How many times do I have to tell you to stop thanking me?” He says, though his voice is soft and still a bit rough from sleep. “I like having you around.”

“So you don’t want the waffles then?”

“Oh, I want the waffles. I just don’t want you to feel like you have to do anything for me. It’s not some debt you’ll owe me, angel.”

“Want you to know I appreciate you is all,” you say, pouring a new scoop of batter into the waffle maker.

Steve, unsure of what exactly possesses him to do so, dips in and presses a kiss to the apple of your cheek, his lips a whisper away from your skin when he says, “I appreciate you, too.”

Then he pulls away and moves to set the table. Like it was natural.

And it was, in a way. How you moved around each other in the kitchen. You leaning out of the way when he needed to reach something you were blocking, him putting a hand on your lower back when he walked behind you so you knew he was there.

Your cheek still tingles from where he’d kissed it when you bring the plate of waffles to the table, your skin somehow even warmer under his gaze, like he’s still remembering exactly how it felt, too.

You sit in the chair beside Steve, not noticing the way he tugs it a bit closer to him with his foot before you sit down. Soon enough, both of you are digging in. Steve’s got more whipped cream on his plate than waffle (you tell him as much) and you’ve got your berries on the side the way you always do.

Neither of you work until later in the day, and it’s nice knowing that you can take your time. Steve tells you about the advice he gave Dustin about how to be ‘cooler’ in school (he’d told him that being cool is completely overrated, he knew from experience, and that being himself is the most important). You’d told him he was going soft with age.

You talk about anything at all. How Keith somehow manages both of your places of work, how he also somehow does both terribly. The way he says ‘if you have time to lean, you have time to clean’ while literally having Cheeto dust on his fingers. Laughing at each other’s impressions of him.

What the new highscores were at the arcade, what people were renting from Family Video.

You wonder what it’ll be like when you have to leave. When you’re living alone again.

Logically, you know you’ll still see Steve frequently, because he’s your favorite person and you can’t remember the last time you went longer than a few days without hanging out. Still, it’ll be different than right now, waking up in the same space and sharing breakfast and brushing your teeth side by side in the mirror.

You’ll miss it, you think.

Trying not to dwell on something that’s still a few weeks away, you take another bite of your waffle. Steve catches your chin and wipes off a bit of whipped cream from the corner of your mouth, then pulling away and sucking it off his thumb.

He goes back to his own plate without a thought. Like touching you just now was an instinct.

Then, he teases you, “These are a little crispy, angel. Maybe you should stick to letting me make breakfast in this household.”

You kick his leg under the table. “That’s a funny way of saying ‘thank you,’ Harrington.”

He kicks you back, much gentler than you’d been. “Thank you.”

“That’s what I thought.”

When you look at him, there’s an easy, boyish smile on his face.

A similar one stretches across your own lips.

-

Steve has had the thought pop up into his head a couple of times, that maybe he should’ve just asked you to live with him before you ever bought that apartment. Because having you around feels the most right things have ever felt in his house.

And though the circumstances of your moving in with him (temporarily, he has to remind himself), were far from ideal, he can’t lie and say that he isn’t glad that you’ve ended up sharing his space.

The room across the hall will always be yours, even when you move back to your place.

He knows that you feel indebted to him for all of it, but if anyone owes the other something, he feels like it’s him. For everything you’ve ever done for him. Sticking around even when he was an asshole in highschool, defending him to his parents whenever you’d cross paths, simply being the kind of friend he needed.

Even when you’re not around, he can picture your face, the way your smile spreads slowly until you’re fucking beaming. Worse, the way you cried into his chest that day at your apartment.

He remembers the crack in your voice when you spoke about that picture frame from summer camp. Though he hasn’t seen you cry since, or even bring it up, he’s decided he wants to fix it. He’d told you he would.

Dustin wound up roped into his plan: find a similar frame, decorate it the exact same way, and scour the photo albums in Steve’s room for his copy of that same picture.

When he was younger, the photo albums pissed him off, because they were purely for show. Pictures of his family that were all fake smiles. Now, he’s glad for them, because at least he has some good memories to look back on. To know it wasn’t always all bad.

Steve probably should’ve thought that one through, because when they looked through his albums, he was on the receiving end of relentless teasing from Dustin. (“Dude, you have an insane boogie in this picture.” “I was four!”)

He hopes it’ll be worth it.

Dustin was the one who found the picture they’d been looking for, and he cheered and waved it in Steve’s face as if they’d been racing.

Now, after driving Dustin back home, decorating the frame the way the two of you did as kids, trying to make his handwriting look like it did back then (which wasn’t too difficult, ‘cause Steve’s writing still isn’t that neat), he’s waiting for you to come downstairs before giving it to you.

He’d picked you up after your shift at the arcade not too long ago, but he knows you like to shower and change as soon as you get home from work, so he’d taken the opportunity to wrap the frame and have it ready for you.

Steve can hear you singing in the shower, and he knows you’re done when it goes quiet. A few minutes later you’re walking down the stairs in a baggy t-shirt and silky sleep shorts.

His eyes, for some reason, linger on your legs for a second.

He stands up, frame in his hand, when you walk over. “I have something for you.”

“Steve! Stop buying me things. Seriously.”

“This thing was free, so you can’t even be mad,” he says, smiling almost sheepishly.

Your eyes search his face, flickering between his own and dipping down to his lips and his nose and back to his eyes. He looks… nervous.

Steve’s never nervous around you.

“Okay,” you say, shuffling on your feet. “What is it?”

“Here,” he hands you the poorly-wrapped frame. “Open it.”

You scrunch your brows at him once, because you have no idea what it could be. It isn’t your birthday, or any sort of holiday at all. With zero guesses, you look down at the light yellow wrapping paper in your hands and slowly tear it open.

What you find makes your eyes grow misty, tears pooling at your lash line but not quite falling.

It’s your favorite picture, the one of you and Steve in those stupid neon shirts with messy hair and dirt on your hands. Only now, it’s not water damaged, and the frame is new, but decorated just like the old one. You run your thumbs over the glass lightly, smiling down at little you and little Steve.

When you look back up at him, he’s already looking at you, his brown eyes all warm, his smile kind but also worried, waiting for your reaction.

Seeing his face springs you into motion, jumping forward and wrapping your arms around his neck tightly with the frame still in your hand. “Thank you,” you say into his skin.

Steve’s arms move to hold you around your waist without a thought. A reflex. They squeeze you close to him, his nose pressed into your damp hair, smelling your shampoo.

“It’s not perfect,” he says. “But I know how much you love that picture, and I wanted to fix it.”

“Steve. Shut up. It is perfect.”

“I’m glad you think so,” he says, his thumbs running back and forth against your back.

You hug for what could’ve been minutes, but neither of you moves to pull away first. You’re not sure if it’s still considered friendly to stand in each other's arms, breathing each other in, for so long, but you don’t care at the moment.

This is probably the nicest thing anyone’s done for you in a long, long time.

When you finally do pull away, you don’t go far. Your arms stay slung over his shoulders, Steve’s hands framing your hips. His thumbs still dragging those sweet patterns against you.

“I’m keeping it forever,” you tell him.

“You sure?” he asks.

“Certain. You’ll always be my best friend, Steve.”

“You’ll always be mine too, angel.”

Then, your eyes both move to each other’s lips, yours flick back up in a second, startled at their wandering.

Steve, however, is a bit transfixed. He looks at the slope of your cupid’s bow, the way your lips are shiny from your lip balm. He thinks it quickly, like a gust of wind that can’t be stopped: I really wanna kiss her right now.

Fuck. He wants to kiss his best friend.

He blinks a few times, clearing his throat and pulling back, letting his hands fall from your waist as yours slide off his shoulders. He misses the feel of your touch immediately, but he’s too freaked out and confused to do anything about it.

“What are you in the mood for tonight?” he asks, cutting off his own thoughts. “I brought back a horror and a comedy. Take your pick.”

“Mmm,” he picks up two tapes from the coffee table and holds them up for you to choose from. “Horror. Unless you’re too scared?”

“You’ll just have to hold my hand, then, won’t you?”

“I guess I will.”

You look back at the picture while Steve puts the movie into the player. You smile at it every time you see it, because you can still see parts of Steve in him now that were in him then.

His eyes, always kind, the way he smiles when he laughs, and about a half hour into the movie, the way he holds your hand and squeezes it when he’s scared.

-

You’re having one of those nights. The kind where sleep seems to be fighting you.

You worked a closing shift at the arcade, which usually lasts until late considering how long you’re open plus all of the cleaning you have to do afterwards. Today was no different, and despite how much later you finish than him at Family Video, Steve waited and drove you home. He hung out in the arcade with you until close, actually.

You’d think that after such a long day, the second your head hit the pillow you’d be out and breathing steadily. Today, that is not the case. You fell asleep for maybe an hour before a nightmare woke you up. You can’t quite remember what happened, only that you’d been yelling for Steve and he wasn’t there.

Groaning quietly, you rub your eyes and toss the blankets away. You stand up and head down to the kitchen in the dark, hand trailing along the walls to make sure you don’t bump into anything.

Just as you’re pouring yourself a glass of water, you hear the shuffle of sleepy footsteps coming into the kitchen.

“Holy shit,” he says, walking over to grab a glass, one hand on his bare chest. “I thought you were a ghost or something just now.”

You shift out of the way to let him get some water just like you did, taking the second that he’s distracted to look at him. His hair a mess, wearing nothing but his boxers. You take a big sip from your glass.

“I feel like I should be offended right now,” you say, “if you think I look like a ghost.”

“Shut up,” he says, dragging out the second word. His voice being rough from sleep makes his words sound much warmer than they are. “My eyes aren’t awake yet. Nothing to do with you, angel.”

You shake your head, though there’s a soft smile on your face the way there always seems to be when you try to be annoyed with Steve. You tilt your head at him, asking, “Couldn’t sleep?”

He shakes his head. “Been tossing and turning. Just can’t get comfortable, then I got pissed ‘cause I couldn’t get comfortable and only made it worse.”

“You would get pissed at that. Probably slapped your pillow like it was at fault.”

He folds his lips inwards and blinks at you. Because he did smack his pillow and call it a dipshit. “Why do you know everything? Spying on me?”

“Hate to say it, but you’re getting predictable, Harrington.” You shrug, then move to put your now empty glass in the dishwasher. “I know you too well.”

He looks at you, your hair falling across your shoulders, your pajama shorts riding up a little as you bend down. The moonlight slipping through the window seems to hit you perfectly. Like a halo.

Fitting, he thinks. You’re his angel, after all.

“Yeah, you do,” he agrees. Then, “What about you? Why’re you up?”

“Nightmare. Been forever since I had one.”

“You okay?” he asks, trailing a knuckle over your shoulder, pushing your hair behind it.

“Yeah,” you say, skin tingling where he’d touched you. “I can't even remember most of it, but now my brain won’t let me sleep.”

Steve wishes he could’ve protected you from whatever haunted you in your sleep. It’s silly, he knows, to think he might be able to ward away anything that hurts you, but he wants to, nonetheless.

He thinks about how comfortable he is whenever you cuddle during movie night. Your head on his shoulder or his chest, his hand on your back or waist.

So, he blurts, “Why don’t you sleep over?”

You furrow your brows at him, “Um, I’ve been sleeping over. A couple of weeks now, actually.”

“No, I mean, like in my room with me,” he says, suddenly shy at the idea. He’s grateful for the darkness, because he can feel his cheeks warming up. “A proper sleepover.”

You’ve done it before. Shared a bed a bunch of times, but for some reason your heart jumps when he says it. Your stomach swirls as you say, maybe a little too quickly, “Okay.”

Steve’s eyes widen like he’s surprised, just for a split second, before a soft smile takes over his face. He holds out a hand for you to take, “C’mon.”

Soon enough, Steve’s lifting his navy bedspread for you, letting you slip into bed next to him. He stays further away at first, letting you settle and lay on your side the way he knows you always do.

You blame sleepiness—or, maybe, the lack thereof—for the way you reach behind you for his arm and tug him closer, draping it over your own waist.

He obliges, of course, his arm securing itself across your stomach, palm spread out and warm against your sleep shirt. His chest is only a breath away from your back, though he keeps his lower half a little more distanced.

His thumb runs circles over your shirt, once, twice, three times before stilling, his forehead pressing to the back of your neck.

“Goodnight, angel,” he says into your hair.

Your hand splays itself on top of his. “Night, Steve.”

And suddenly your eyes grow heavier, and sleep doesn’t feel like much of a battle anymore.

-

You wake up the most rested you’ve felt in a while. There’s warmth surrounding you, but not the uncomfortable kind. The kind that feels safe.

Somehow, you and Steve are even closer than you’d been when you fell asleep. His arm is still around your waist, his other outstretched and tucked beneath your head like a pillow. His chest is flush to your back, and you can feel it expand with every breath he takes.

Most differently of all, however, is the way his hips are snug against the curve of your butt. And you can feel him hard against you.

Your skin feels even warmer than before when you notice.

Steve hasn’t woken up yet, you don’t think, because the faintest snores are getting puffed out against your shoulder where his face is tucked. His hand on your stomach has worked its way beneath your shirt, though, and his fingertips press against your skin, like he’s fighting to keep you close.

As if you’d go anywhere even in your sleep.

His knee is tucked between your legs, and you’re quickly realizing that it’d be pretty impossible to get out of bed without him noticing. You’re completely tangled together, a knot of limbs somehow fitting together just right. Like two puzzle pieces.

In his sleep, Steve’s mouth presses against the back of your shoulder, and only when you involuntarily shiver at the contact, does he stir.

It takes Steve a bit to really wake up, mumbling words that don’t make sense, scrunching his eyes shut even further before blinking them open. He’s met with the sight of you right in front of him. Body curved perfectly against his.

“Steve? You awake?” you ask, checking.

“Mhm,” he hums.

Then, something that has his cheeks flushing pink, he registers the feeling of his boner pressed against your ass. He shuffles them back enough so there’s space between you. “Fuck. Sorry.”

“It’s okay,” you say. Because he can’t control the way his body reacts while he’s asleep.

“I didn’t think-” he cuts himself off, because he’s not quite sure how to say I didn’t think about the whole morning wood factor or that I’d fucking plaster myself to you when I suggested a sleepover without sounding stupid. Instead, he just repeats, “I’m sorry.”

You twist yourself around to face him, sheets crumpling and twisting as you move. When you settle back onto the pillow and look at his face, at the redness on his cheeks and the tips of his ears, you squeeze his hand that’s now laying between you.

“It’s okay, really,” you say. “It’s, like, anatomy. You’re human, Steve.”

“I don’t want you to think I invited you to sleep in here for some pervy reason,” he says, scrunching his nose when he says it.

“I don’t think that at all,” you tell him. You squeeze his hand again. “We’ve shared a bed like, a hundred times by now. If anything I’m surprised this hasn’t happened already.”

“Oh my God,” he groans, shutting his eyes and pushing his face into the pillow.

“Steve,” you drag out his name, fighting a giggle at the way he’s acting. He’s got a reputation, after all, and how shy and embarrassed he seems to be doesn’t reflect the things you heard about him in high school. He’s changed a lot since then. “It’s seriously fine. We can pretend it never happened. Promise.”

Steve pulls his face from the pillow, eyes catching yours as his fingers squeeze yours back in appreciation. He lets his eyes wander a bit, at the messy bits of your hair around your face from sleeping, the marks in your cheek from the pillowcase, the way your sleep shirt has fallen off your shoulder.

He feels lucky to get to see you this way, right after you’ve woken up. Vulnerable, unguarded, beautiful.

It’s during this small stretch of silence that you realize how close your faces are now. You’re sharing a pillow, his nose not even an inch from yours. Shift forward the slightest bit, and they’d be touching. Your eyes trail down to his mouth, to the visible patch of chest hair and the freckles that dot his skin. He’s already looking right at you when your eyes flick back upwards.

You know Steve, could tell what he’s feeling just from the look on his face, but this is one you’ve never seen before. At least, not directed at you.

Steve moves first, his eyes a little darker than usual, shifting forward slightly, then looking at you. Daring you to make the next move.

“What if we didn’t forget about it?” he says. Quiet and scratchy.

You don’t have time to think before you move forward a bit, too. Your noses brush. “What would that mean?”

Steve doesn’t answer with words. Rather, he moves forward the final bit and brushes his lips against yours in a question mark of a kiss, giving you time to pull away.

You don’t.

Instead, the hand of yours that isn’t still holding his comes up to the back of his neck, gently encouraging him to do it again. His free hand tightens at your waist as he dips in a second time.

It isn’t as tentative now that you’ve urged him on. His lips meet yours more sure, more firm, but still soft against you. Neither of you cares one bit about morning breath, or about what this might change. As if the morning’s haze slows time, minds still a little sleepy.

You’re simply acting on instinct. And this feels too right to stop.

Soon enough it grows more heated, Steve shifting to hover over you, his elbows pushing into the mattress to hold himself up, his tongue sneaking out to lick against the seam of your lips for permission.

Just as you open up for him, the blaring sound of Steve's alarm cuts you off, pulling back with a gasp. He simply leans up on one arm and slams the snooze button—and you laugh, you laugh, at how hard he hits it—before diving back into you.

You feel hot all over, where one of Steve’s hands has moved to cup your jaw, his thumb running delicately against your face as his mouth moves against yours, practically devouring you. Where the blankets are still over your lower halves, trapping in heat. When he pulls back, looks into your eyes, fucking smiles all dopey and pretty, and then kisses you again.

It’s so good, you’re almost angry at yourself for not kissing him sooner.

You kiss until his alarm goes off again and Steve's forced to pry himself away from you, groaning about being on his ‘last tardy warning’ from Keith.

Still, he takes the time to kiss your forehead on his way out, Family Video vest slung over his shoulder, calling a sweet, “bye, angel,” on his way out. His hair’s still a mess from your fingers, and he doesn’t even seem to mind.

You stay in his bed longer than you probably should, blinking up at the ceiling, fingers pressed against your lips like you’re searching for physical proof that everything was real.

What the fuck just happened?

-

It’s been a couple of weeks, and Steve can’t stop thinking about that kiss. He doesn’t know it, but you can’t stop thinking about it either.

Neither of you have brought it up, and things have faded back to normal as if it had never happened. But you and Steve are both thinking the same things without knowing it. How good and natural and easy it felt, how, every now and then, you think about doing it again.

You talk and joke and watch movies and eat meals together the same way you always have, and it’d be so easy to stay that way, to never kiss again. But then, what if you could stay that way and kiss? Wouldn’t that be something close to perfect?

You lay awake thinking about it every few nights. Because, when you really reflect on your life and how intertwined it is with Steve’s, you realize that you’ve sort of always acted like a couple, minus the kissing and sex aspect. You go on what could easily be classified as dates—the movies, lunch or dinner—you cuddle on the couch almost nightly, and you’ve never shied away from physical touch with one another. Held hands, a palm on your back.

You haven’t brought it up with Steve because you haven’t even come to terms with it yourself. Feelings are so fucking confusing and messy and you’d like to have a better idea of what’s going on in your own head before asking him about his.

Meanwhile, Steve has allowed himself to come to terms with it. He’s in love with you.

He’s pretty sure he has been for a while. Months, maybe even years.

It hadn’t come easily, though. It was nights spent similarly to yours, running through interactions you’ve had and the way he felt that one time in senior year when you went on a date with some guy from your math class. Even then, a part of him felt wrong about it, that pit in his gut.

Then there were his shifts with Robin at Family Video where he’d practically spilled everything just to get her opinion. She looked up and sighed “thank you” before saying that it was nice of him to finally catch on.

Had he really been that obvious? All this time? And had he really been that oblivious to his own feelings?

Steve can’t answer those questions. He can’t say when his love for you changed from platonic to romantic, he just knows that it has and he doesn’t think he’ll ever come back from it.

You’re his best friend in the entire world, the prettiest girl he’s ever seen, and he can’t picture himself loving anyone but you so wholly.

He’s fucking terrified of losing you, but he’s also terrified of never telling you how he feels and testing that what if.

So, like a desperate idiot, he knocks on the door to Eddie’s trailer.

Eddie opens it after a minute and what sounded like him stubbing his toe, “oh, hey Harrington. More weed?”

“No, shut up. I need your help.”

“You,” Eddie points at Steve, then at himself, “need my help for something? Are you ill?”

“Okay,” Steve, dramatic and bitchy as usual, sighs and mutters something about this being a stupid idea and turns to leave.

“Come on,” Eddie laughs, “I’m just joking. What’s up?”

Soon enough, Steve’s sitting on Eddie’s couch, Eddie pacing in front of the coffee table like this is a very serious matter, and telling him pretty much everything. Your kiss, the train of thought it sparked.

“Basically I’m in love with her and I have no clue what to do,” Steve finishes, sinking back into the couch cushions. It squeaks as he shifts.

Eddie pauses, tugging at his bottom lip between his fingers, then looks at Steve and says, “You know I’ve never dated anyone in my life, right?”

Steve groans into his hands, “Why do all of my friends have to be losers with no dating lives.”

Eddie ignores that, because he can tell how affected Steve actually is by all of this. How much he cares. He walks over and sits down on the opposite end of the couch. “Have you ever thought of, I don’t know, telling her how you feel?”

Steve rests his elbows on his knees, leaning forward and letting his head hang for a moment before picking it up. “Of course I have, but I’m fuckin’ scared.”

“What’s the worst that could happen?”

“Um, she could reject me and not feel the same way and everything would be awkward because I ruined it and I’d lose my best friend in the entire world.”

“What if she does feel the same?” Eddie asks.

He’s both yours and Steve’s friend, he’s been around the both of you together. He’s seen the way you look at each other. Eddie might not be an expert, but it’s always looked a lot like love to him. He’s pretty sure the chances of you feeling the same are quite high.

“What do you mean?”

“What if she does feel the same and you never figure it out because you’re too afraid?” Eddie says. “Man, don’t you think that risk is worth taking?”

Steve thinks about it, and as much as he hates to admit it, Eddie’s right. He’d hate to always wonder, to lose out on the chance to really be with you when he knows it could be so good.

You are worth the risk to him.

“When the fuck did you become so wise, Munson?”

“Dunno,” Eddie shrugs. “Wanna smoke?”

Steve laughs, “Yes I do.”

-

With Steve gone at work and you off for the day, there’s been too much room for your thoughts to creep in. Too much silence.

You’ve already been thinking about things so much. Thinking about him so much, that in his absence, your mind seemed to work overtime to fill in the gaps.

You thought about the day he picked you up from your apartment, how quick he was to drop whatever he’d been doing and come over and help you and take you home with him. The day he took you shopping and bought you a dress because he thought you looked pretty in it, the way his fingers fiddled with the strap on your shoulder when you tried it on for him.

The day he gifted you a remade version of your favorite picture from summer camp because he knew how much it meant to you, the way you held on to each other afterwards.

How you’d been waiting for him to get home that night he went to Eddie’s, just to make sure he was okay. How when he came in, he smiled at the sight of you curled on the couch, and he kissed your cheek when he walked by like it was the easiest thing in the world.

Your brain knew he was high, you could smell the weed mingling with his cologne on his clothes when he leaned in close, but your heart didn’t care about that. It thumped in your chest the second he leaned in closer, even worse when his lips touched your cheek.

The realization hits you now like a shock, a quick zip of electricity running through your system. You fucking love him.

Sure, you’ve loved Steve practically your whole life, but this was different. You love him, love him. Like, you want to kiss him when he comes home from work and in the morning. You want him to introduce you as his girlfriend and to be able to call him your boyfriend.

You feel stupid for not realizing it sooner, because looking back on things now, knowing how you feel, you can see it written throughout your entire friendship. Holding hands and kissing foreheads and hands pushing hair away from faces.

For a second, you’re purely happy, because you get to be in love with your best friend and it feels as warm and sweet as sunlight. Then, the fear creeps in, and you’re scared. Scared of losing him, of making things weird, of change and doing the wrong thing.

So scared that you start to panic and pack up some of your things in your bag like you’re running away.

Truthfully, you’re not sure what else to do. You’ve never been in love before, you’ve never known it this way—so kind and unconditional. And your parents sure as hell didn’t set a good example for you. They’d fight, and someone would leave with the slam of a door, and then they’d be back and the cycle would continue.

You’re scared and confused and your instincts are telling you to run away even though the only place you really wanna be is with Steve. In his arms.

You’re stuffing clothes into your bag just to keep your hands busy, breathing hard and fast, when you hear the front door open and close. Steve’s quick to find you, his eyes scanning your room and then looking at you. “What are you doing?”

You feel like you might cry just looking at him. His brown eyes worried but warm as always, his hands stuffed into his pockets like he’s nervous.

“I thought you weren’t supposed to be home until later,” you say, hoping he can’t hear the shake in your voice.

“It was dead, so Keith let me off early. I-” Steve furrows his brows, “are you leaving?”

You nod. “I’ve been in your way long enough.”

“I told you, you’re never in my way.” Steve knows you, and he loves you, and he can tell that there’s something going on. That you’re panicked and trying to get away from whatever it is. He cares too much to let that happen. “I want you to stay.”

You want to stay, too. You just don’t know what comes next, and that unknown, the lack of control, of familiarity, it makes your hands shake.

Your mind doesn’t work the same when you’re afraid.

“Give me one good reason why I should stay, Steve. I’ve been taking up your space for weeks and-”

“Because I love you.” Steve cuts you off. He hadn’t planned on telling you this way, he wanted it to be romantic and perfect but he can’t wait any longer. Especially not when you’re trying to run away. “I’m in love with you. And I want you here.”

You immediately stop in your tracks, blinking up at him like you’re not sure you’d heard him correctly. “You- what?”

“I love you. Romantically. And I think I have for a really long time.”

“You’re not high again, are you?” You ask, your eyes a little misty.

Steve walks over to you and grabs both of your hands in his, making sure you’re looking at him, at the sincerity written all over his face, when he says, “Completely sober. I fucking love you and I want you to keep living with me, because this house doesn’t really feel like home unless you’re in it.”

“What about when my apartment is ready?”

He squeezes your hands. “Stay then, too. Stay forever.”

You look up at him, his hair falling over his forehead, his eyes so honest, a tentative smile on his mouth. The only boy you’ve ever loved.

You feel silly for trying to escape this when this is how it’s turning out. Steve had been brave just now, telling you he loves you and he wants you to stay, so you decide to be brave, too.

It’s easier than you thought it would be to say: “I love you, too, Steve. I feel the same. I only just realized it and freaked out. I’m so scared of losing you, is all.”

“You won’t. Not ever.”

You tip your chin up to kiss him after he says it, because you can. You pour your feelings into it, and Steve returns your kiss as if it’s one he’s known for years. It’s slow, and deep, and sweet, and so full of love you’re practically overflowing with it.

The two of you only pull away when you need a breather. Steve doesn’t go far, resting his forehead against yours.

“So what happens now?” You ask.

“Well, we’ve been acting like a couple for a while, I think, so we stay the same. Mostly. Except now I get to call you my girlfriend-”

“Um, I’m pretty sure you’re supposed to ask me first.”

He lets go of one of your hands and pushes a loose strand of hair behind your ear, his knuckle running lovingly across your cheek. “My angel girl, will you be my girlfriend?”

Your grin is wide and lovesick and cheesy and you don’t care one bit. “Yeah, yes I will. Boyfriend.”

“And, being your boyfriend means I get to do this.”

He kisses you once more. And you don’t ever want to not be kissing him again.

𝜗𝜚

thank you guys so much for reading!!! it would mean a whole bunch if you would consider leaving a comment or a reblog and letting me know what you thing!! it helps more than you know <3

[tooearlyforthis]

when you’re reading fanfiction and you get so involved in the story you start imagining different scenarios in that same universe and then it’s fanfiction fanfiction

[tooearlyforthis]

Seriously though like I’m so curious what is on her shirt.

New video of Joe and Maya on set! I know he uses words but all I see is arm