green green green

steve groans in despair.

it was barely a busy day in family video. it usually wasn’t during mondays.

he throws the stress ball against the wall and lets it bounce back into his grasp. robin was out back, it was her turn to rewind tapes and place them back on their respective shelves while he was stuck at the counter.

when he doesn't manage to catch it, he doesn’t bother getting up to grab it. instead, he calls out, “hey, robin?” 

without waiting for her response, he eventually decides to meddle in his coworker’s love life. “do you know what i just found out about vickie today?”

there was a pause. a beat, just before robin responds, “yeah? — actually, no, i don’t think i want to know.”

“she,” he stops for a bit of a dramatic effect. “returned fast times paused at 53 minutes and 5 seconds and—“

“so? m-maybe she realized that she didn’t like fast times exactly at 53 minutes and 5 seconds so—“

“and do you know who pauses fast times at 53 minutes and 5 seconds?” he asks, waiting for a reply. but when it doesn’t come, he swivels in his chair and answers himself. “people who like boobies, robin!” 

“ew! gross. don’t say—“

“boobies!”

“—boobies.”

“and it’s not a big deal, okay?” steve reassures, sending her a knowing grin. “i like boobies. you like boobies.”

“vickie likes boobies. definitely.” he exclaims, swiveling around in his chair again as the overhead bell notifies him of a customer. “it’s… boobies…”

and that was when he caught sight of you; headphones on as you twirl the wire, heading straight towards the romance section. there was a glow that seemed to follow you, and if you were going to ask him, it wasn’t because of the shitty lighting of family video, it was because he thinks you’re an angel.

steve’s breath got caught in his throat and he believes that his heart was just robbed out of his chest. he slowly puts his hand on his chest, just right where his heart is supposed to be, and surely enough, it is still there, gradually beating rapidly as he continues to stare at you. 

“…teve… steve… steve!” he snaps out of his trance when something hits his head. his gaze falls on the ball bouncing on the floor. he looks up to see robin looking at him with a question mark above her head.

“are you even listening?”

steve didn’t even bother responding to her as he started making his way towards you. he could still faintly hear music playing from your headphones around your neck as he stopped by beside you. 

“uhm, busy night?” he questions, awkwardly posing by the shelves. he leans all of his weight against it, bicep rippling, but it’s a beat before he realizes how much he’s performing for you — he’s downright smitten and downright cringing.

from the counter, robin frowns as she looks at you and then at her best friend. “damn it, steve,” she mutters, walking back to the break room as she mumbles something about how it should have been her instead of him.

“uh, yeah, you could say that,” you respond, letting your eyes linger a little longer in the romance section as you head straight towards the new releases. “i mean, if you count eating a tub of ice cream whilst escaping the cruel reality of real life type-of-busy, then yes.”

“well, if it’s any help, i would recommend-” he plucks a random movie from the shelf and looks at the cover. “ah, the breakfast club. this is a must-watch. it’s filled with romance, friendship, and a little bit of a high school adventure.”

you look at his name tag then back at him with a grin, and he swears he could melt into a puddle right then and there. “and you’re sure i’ll like it, steve?” 

“oh, no, sweetheart, you won’t like it. you’ll love it.” he doesn’t know where the pet name came from but the way it easily rolled out of his tongue convinces him that it feels just right.

you ignore the heat rising up to your cheeks as you snatch the vhs off his hands. “and if i don’t end up loving it?”

“well, then i guess i’d have to make it up to you,” steve shrugs, feigning nonchalance. “but if you do end up loving it, then… then the new diner downtown sounds good for a first date, right?”

you purse your lips trying to hide the smile that threatens to spread as you make your way towards the counter. “you better start praying to the stars, steve, because i’d be really disappointed if i wind up hating it.” 

he grins at your words, making his way around to ring up your selected films. as soon as it was bagged up and ready to go, neither of you felt like saying goodbye yet but alas, you had a movie to critique.

steve walks you to the exit and opens the door for you, like the gentleman he is.

“i’ll see you around, steve.”

“see you later… alligator.” it was then that steve realized that he never caught your name. he spews out silent curses as he closes the door, but nevertheless, he runs straight to the break room and steals the marker in robin’s hand.

“hey!”

YOU SUCK - IIIIIIIIIIII

YOU RULE - I 

“no way!” robin exclaims at the tally. “i will never believe that you just made that happen.”

“oh, you better start believin’, rob, cause i’m back in the game, baby!”

steve runs straight into the family video’s entrance, dramatically opening both doors with a bit of force. his hair flops up and down slightly as he pants, “anything yet?”

robin pops her head out of one of the shelves she’s been organizing. “nope.”

steve lets out a heavy sigh. with every day that you don’t return, his heart that he once thought was stolen was slowly countered in small damaged boxes. no bubble wrap, no fragile warning, nothing that would ensure that it was handled with care. “it’s nearly been a week, robin.”

“well, if it’s any consolation, i think you’re a great guy, steve. it’s her loss anyway, who in the right mind would miss out on the opportunity to go out with king steve? especially with that babe-slaying hair.”

“very funny.” steve mocks a sarcastic laugh, rolling his eyes. he goes over to robin with a drag in his steps. “it’s just that- i really thought she would be the one, you know? there was something about her that just… pulled me in. she’s not like any other girl i’ve ever seen, robin.”

“she’s- she’s a goddess. an angel. it’s like she was made to make up for the world’s imperfections, like every flaw in humanity does not matter because she graces every ground she walks on,” he continues. “it’s hard to believe that we’re even breathing the same air as her. it’s-“

before he can go on with his poetic spiel, keith leans against his office doorway and says, “i knew it was your dulcet tones i heard, harrington.”

steve and robin simultaneously roll their eyes, getting back to organizing.

“a girl dropped by the other day looking for you, by the way.”

steve freezes. “girl? what girl, keith?”

“dunno, was a pretty one though,” he winks, munching on his cheezy chips. “if she didn’t nearly bite m’head off, i woulda kept her for myself. anyway, there’s some shit she left for you, it’s in here with the tapes i told you to rewind decades ago-“

before he could even finish, steve runs towards his office, effectively knocking over the human-sized cardboard cutout of phoebe cates.

and just as keith said, the breakfast club vhs, alongside the other films you picked, was neatly stacked in the corner of his office. there was a folded beige card taped on top of it.

—— ✦ 

I.O.U. a date.

redeemable for… a romantic milkshake for two at kelly’s diner on the 21st of may. 7 pm sharp.

to: steve (with the killer hair)

from: y/n (sweetheart)

p.s. don’t be late, romeo :-)

—— ✦ 

steve blinks. and then again. and once more for extra measures, just to make sure he wasn’t making it up. he reads your name, and then aloud as if testing the way it rolls on his tongue. he’s never seen a name that suited a person like it did with you. 

steve feels robin’s presence beside him before he sees her. “you see this, too, right?”

she hums.

“… and do you know what this means?”

robin groans.

YOU SUCK - IIIIIIIIIIII

YOU RULE - II

it takes steve a while to realize that today is the 21st of may. he blames keith for his lack of preparation. what is he supposed to wear? something simple? casual? smart casual? he knows kelly’s milkshake shack was straightforward, but nothing too bad for him to worry about.

he was worried about how to impress you. what type of flowers do you like? do you even like flowers? what type of chocolates do you love? do you love the milky ones? dark chocolate? the one with almonds? what if you’re allergic to chocolates? but even then, steve thinks flowers and chocolates aren't enough for you.

you deserve the world, the stars, and the moon. you deserve it and more. but what a pity it is that this gesture of adoration and worship is what the world would deem unreachable. unrealistic. superfluous.

nothing is superfluous for you, he thinks. despite that, steve decides to stick with a beautiful bouquet of flowers. nothing could go wrong with that now, could it? he questions himself as he starts his trek to the flower shop a few blocks down.

the first thing that he notices is the soft music playing on the record player. the second thing he noticed is how every flower is blooming and twinkling, not a fading one in sight. the last thing he noticed was the lack of a clerk at the counter.

“uhm, hello?” he calls out hesitantly.

muffled but still coherent, he receives a response from the back room. “one second!”

there was something about her voice that sounded familiar, and yet he couldn’t pinpoint who it could be. he shrugs it off. whilst waiting, he takes a look around the shop, criticizing which would be the perfect pick.

“what flowers do you have in mind?” the voice calls out once more. he could hear some shuffling on the other side.

“i was actually hoping you could help me out.” steve replies somewhat bashfully. “maybe something that’s simple but breathtaking? like nothing too extravagant but something… ethereal.”

he wasn’t sure if they caught what he just said, but before he knew it, the curtain separating the rooms was drawn. 

“busy night?”

steve stops shuffling through the vinyls and spins on his heels. “oh, yeah, scored a date with the prettiest girl in-“ 

you grin at the astounded boy in front of you, eyes wide and jaw slack. you delicately push the bouquet of pretty pink chrysanthemums and yellow dwarf sunflower in his hands, grinning up at him like a tease. “you were saying something about scoring a date with the prettiest girl in hawkins?” 

“i- wha?”

“chrysanthemums symbolize devoted love, loyalty, happiness, and these lil sunflowers symbolize adoration.” you state. “i love the sentiment, by the way.”

“you work here?” he finally speaks, watching as you step back to organize the lone stems by the counter.

“i mean if it isn’t obvious,” you shoot him a pointed look. 

“y-yeah, right, right.”

“my aunt used to own this shop, but she said she couldn’t take it anymore after some supernatural shit kept happening in this town apparently.” you huff. “i think she just needs to take her meds on time.”

“yeah, probably.” steve chuckles nervously before clearing his throat. “so, uhm, i don’t really remember seeing you around until a few days ago, is this your first time in hawkins?”

“save the getting-to-know questions for the date, harrington.” you smile up at him. “anyway, how about you pick me up two hours from now, i’ll forget that you ever bought me flowers from my own flower shop, and then we can continue this over some sweet milkshakes?”

“yeah,” he nods, his reply was barely even a whisper. there was a look of adoration in his eyes, a dopey lovelorn smile on his lips. “sounds like a plan.”

before steve gets in his car, he pauses by the door, looking back at you with one last glance before he gets stuck with the question, is this what love at first sight feels like? 

steve never wants to lose that feeling.

and surely enough, steve is back two hours later with the bouquet in hand, hair styled to perfection, and the feeling of love at third sight stuns him. 

steve looks at you like it’s the very first time he’s seen you, and he feels like his heart drops. every 

he stares at you and there is an indescribable sensation in his chest that he couldn’t express. it gives him an urge to try every pick-up line in the book; make himself look like an idiot by asking whether you fell from heaven. because steve genuinely believes it. is that so silly of him to think?

there’s a warm fuzzy feeling deep within that void. it’s the type of feeling that makes him want to tell his friends all about you, his mom even, to the world if possible. 

there was a pep in your step as you make your way toward steve, noting how handsome he looks in his shirt and corduroy jacket, jeans seemingly well-ironed. his hair is gelled – you’d have to ask him what hair products he uses later – and it makes you want to run your fingers through it.

“looking as gorgeous as ever, sweetheart.” steve compliments you with his ever charming smile. he gives you the bouquet that he’s been hiding behind his back. “these are for you.”

you take it from him and take a whiff of the sweet smell. “wow. these are beautiful, steve. i wonder who picked them for you.”

“oh, you know, just the cute little owner who works in the flower shop.” he grins. “oh, wow, would you look at that. we’re actually standing in front of it right now- oh, and good god, here’s the cute little owner i was just talking about.”

“dork.” 

“what flavor do you want?”

“strawberry-chocolate has always been my go-to.”

“really?”

“what’s with the judgemental look? it’s heavenly!”

“but that’s so… so basic. i’ve pegged you to take more on the crazy flavors.”

you playfully roll your eyes at him as he guides you to a booth, hand respectfully placed on the small of your back. you look at him with a teasing grin. “i bet you love vanilla, though.”

steve scoffed, sitting in front of you. “i do not.”

he does, but he wasn’t going to admit that.

“you totally do,” you snicker before busying yourself with the menu.

“what can i get y’all today?” 

“we’ll get a large strawberry-chocolate milkshake,” steve quips, looking at you for a moment before, like clockwork, adding, “with two straws, please.”

ignoring the rapid beating of your heart, you shake your head at him, “you do this with all the girls you go out with?”

“nah, only the ones who like basic ass milkshake flavors,” he grins, leaning back against the couch. “been reserving all my suave moves just for you.”

you scoff playfully, putting a hand on your chest. you can feel your heart beating as you take in his appearance under the neon lights of the shack. “should i be honored?”

“yeah,” steve nods fervently. “i’m actually glad you went out with me, meaning we don’t have to worry about your bad taste in men, too. i would have been really concerned.” 

you laugh at him, and steve beams. you throw a balled-up tissue paper at his face, effectively snapping him out of his little inner dialogue about how your laugh was one of the best things he’s ever heard. “you literally love vanilla milkshakes and you’re trying to call out my apparent bad taste?”

“not vanilla,” he shoots you a glare, the curl of his lips failing to keep up with his act. he throws the tissue back at you. “seriously.”

you raise your hands in defense, trying to prevent the laugh threatening to leave your lips. before either of you could say anything else, the milkshake was served.

steve scooches closer towards the table as he places the milkshake in between you. he thanks the waitress and dips the two straws into the drink. 

“just a fair warning though,” steve warns, moving closer to take a sip. “you might get enchanted by my pretty brown eyes with this close proximity, i was told you can get lost in them.”

you continue sipping with a smile, eyes momentarily flicking down at his lips before looking back up into his eyes. his eyes are pretty, you will let yourself willingly get lost in them if you can.

steve does the same, and as his eyes settle back into yours, the two of you let out tiny hushed laughter after the sudden eye contact.

“tell me if you need a map,” he sips, letting out a soft groan at the taste of the milkshake. he’s beginning to understand why you love it so much. “i think you’re starting to get lost.”

“did the heart eyes give it away?” you grin.

the conversation easily flowed like a river after that. secrets, and smiles, and laughter were shared between you two and it lasted for hours, more than what the two of you have signed up for. but neither of you was complaining. 

steve learned a lot more about you than he ever did with anyone else. he learned that fleetwood mac, starship, and queen were the artists that claimed your top three. the breakfast club instantly became your favorite after his recommendation. and that you really, really want to learn how to rollerblade.

you, on the other hand, learned steve’s music taste was all over the place, but he secretly loves billy joel after seeing his parents dance to his music when he was younger, a vulnerable memory that he loves to preserve. he tells you all about dustin and the gang, and how the former was like the little brother he never had. he told you about how he was a bit hesitant about getting himself out there again after nancy, his ex, because she was the first person he’s ever loved and apparently it was all bullshit.

you both knew each other better than anyone else, not even your friends nor his knows about the things you told each other. and before you know it, you find yourselves in lover’s lake after getting kicked out for staying after closing — neither of you realized that the two of you were the only people left, save for the staff who kicked you out.

you look up at the starry sky with a content sigh, basking in the chilly air, the soft music from steve’s car, and well, steve.

“i don’t think i’ve had as much fun as i did today,” you say.

steve tilts his head to look at you, a small smile pulling at his lips before he teases, “good to know.”

“stop,” you push his face away. “i’m serious.”

he laughs, settling with a soft smile as he answers, “me, too, sweetheart.”

you look at him, and purse your lips. “i’ll be staying awhile, y’know?”

“what?” his eyebrows scrunch up in confusion. you want to give it a kiss.

“you asked me, earlier today, why you’ve never seen me before,” you recall. “i’m planning on staying for a while, just until i have everything figured out.”

“yeah?”

“yeah,” you nod. “i wasn’t going to, originally, until i found a reason to stay.”

steve smiles, he’s been smiling more than he ever did his entire life, and it’s not one of those flirty smirks or small smiles, they were the genuine and contagious ones. he’s convinced that his jaw will ache from all the muscle movement but he doesn’t mind, not when you told him prior that you loved his smile.

“yeah?” is all he can ask. 

you hum in approval.

“what, our ever so beautiful hawkins, indiana doesn’t offer you enough?” he teases.

“well, your ever so beautiful hawkins, indiana so happens to offer the best milkshake,” you shrug nonchalantly. “i guess that’s enough reason.”

he gasps dramatically, putting up an exaggerated act by clutching his chest with a pained groan. “you offend me, woman.”

you laugh. “fine, you, too, pretty boy.”

“me, too, by the way.” steve murmurs after a while, ignoring the thumping of his chest. you feel some shifting from his side, so you look down to see him closer and his palm facing upwards, as if offering it to you. “maybe… maybe we can figure it out together?”

you look up at him, taking another moment to appreciate his beauty, before interlacing your fingers with his. “i’d like that very much.”

“thank you for tonight, steve,” you say, unbuckling your seatbelt as he puts his car in park. he gets out of the door and around the vehicle to open yours. “seriously.”

“no need to thank me, sweetheart,” steve smiles, tucking a stray hair away from your face. “i had fun with you tonight.”

you stop yourself from feeling the warmth of your cheeks, instead, you move a bit closer to him. “although, there’s one thing missing...”

steve frowned, his hands hovering just above your waist, hesitant to touch you. “what is it? — agh, i knew i should have gotten you the — robin said it would be too much and i —“

“steve,”

“hmm?”

“it’s not whatever you think it is.”

“oh… what is it then?”

you loop your fingers around his belt loops, tugging him closer to you. steve gasped softly, hands finally settling on your waist. “a kiss.” 

“oh,”

you hum, moving your arms up from his torso and looping them around his neck. he could feel goosebumps rising in the wake of your warm touch. 

your noses brush against each other, lips teasing as they barely leave a featherlight touch. 

steve, getting impatient, pulls you impossibly closer, smashing his lips against yours. it was a mix of soft and desperate as if he’s been thinking of what it would have been like to kiss you. it was. if not, then it was even better than what he dreamed of.

you smile against his lips, fingers tangling in his hair. your mind is clouded; you’re drunk on his sweet strawberry-chocolate flavored kisses, the scent of his musky perfume, and the smell of his hairspray.

you slowly pull back only to have steve chase your lips again for a quick peck. “you’re a great kisser,” he murmurs.

“i know,” you tease, pulling him back down for another kiss as you can’t help yourself, only pulling away on the account of actually needing air to breathe. 

“good night, steve,” you pull away slowly, his hands slipping away from yours as you walk up to your front doorstep.

“i miss you already!“ he calls out.

“go home, pretty boy.”

“good night, sweetheart!” he grins.

“drive home safe, farrah fawcett.”

“hey! i told you that in confidence.” steve exclaims, unbothered by your screaming neighbor yelling profanities at him. it was late.

you look back at him with one last smile before disappearing behind the door, you lean against it, grinning from ear to ear as you squeal in the safety of your own home. you walk around the shop-apartment with your giddy smile never faltering even once.

unbeknownst to you, after making sure you got in safely, steve is punching the air, whooping, and jumping on his feet as he did his own little celebration. he looks back once more before getting into his car, playing a billy joel song.

it frustrates him beyond belief how a woman could easily make him weak in the knees, how you, with one look into your eyes, accompanied by a glint of a smile, could make him feel as if he could crumble into lovesick wreckage, how your featherlight touch could effortlessly yield him into submission — but he supposes that he does not mind because you’re not just any woman nor is this just any feeling. he made a promise to himself that he would never fall in love again, never will he accept the risk of getting his heart broken once more, but for you — when he’s with you — he would risk getting his heart broken time and time again if it meant being in your presence. he’s never felt so seen, so loved, so adored, until he met you.

he’s willing to patch up a broken heart if it means loving you.

it’s dizzying, it’s so overwhelmingly beautiful — the feeling of being in love. the feeling of being in love with you. and in two years' time, the whisper of those three little words, those of which are common amongst those who love and are loved, and yet it holds a special meaning that no one but the two of you can understand. 

it’s a promise. an oath. a secret that you will continue keeping that no matter what, it will always be you and him against the world, that even if everything else fails, your love for each other is what will keep you going.

because you did not end up staying a while, you stayed with him, and you’ll stay with him until forever falls apart.

Before Skull Rock tucked itself into King Steve’s repertoire, it was a place for you and him — somewhere sacred, a secret kept.

The two of you first discovered the spot near the beginning of freshman year; somewhere between day ten and day when-will-this-end of the academic calendar. And you were younger then, fewer inches on your height and fewer wrinkles on your skin, pinky-promising that you’ll return to the rock at least once every year without fail.

You’re a sucker for tradition.

Perhaps that’s why you allow Steve to persuade you to sneak away after graduation, his lips at your ear as he bathes you in cedar-wood and musk. Crescent moon smile on his face, as though he’s epitomising the one in the sky — opaline, dreamy, just out of reach.

“C’mon,” he says, silky smooth enough that it’s impossible to say no. And he’s tugging you toward his old pick-up truck and urging you to buckle in, playing you favourite bubblegum pop songs as though he’s trying to placate you.

“I thought you hated songs like this,” you tease, leaning over the centre console to bump your shoulder against his. The skin on skin is fleeting, barely a brush, but it sets every nerve-ending in Steve’s body aflame. He wonders whether you’ve left lavender, a hint of honey on his hoodie. He tries not to think about how badly he wants to reach over and squeeze your thigh, call you his.

“I do,” he responds simply, drumming his fingers against the wheel, a safe distance from the hem of your dress. “You don’t.”

You nod sagely. “You want me to sing. Serenade you.”

“You caught me,” Steve’s voice is lilted, teasingly so, trying to play the same game you are as though he isn’t doomed to lose. “Your god-awful, off-pitch —”

“Harrington,” you gasp, eyes widening in feigned indignation. “Take it back.”

“No seriously,” he says solemnly, looking frustratingly cocky with the corners of his mouth twitching. “I love when you sing loud girl-band music. It helps me imagine you in the same tiny skirts those chics wear, and the little crop —”

You cheeks grow uncomfortably warm, traitorous butterflies making a rogue escape in your stomach. “Oh,” you scoff, rolling your eyes. “Super classy.”

“For you?” Steve grins, flicking on his blinker and checking his blind spot. He looks unfairly handsome doing so, as though that’s in any way a rational thought. The way his head turns, the crease of concentration in his brow — downright pathetic. You’re done for. “Always.”

He takes the next turn to head toward Skull Rock, the sky above you dusted velvet, bright stars braving dusk. And you presume that this year will be like the rest — reclining in your seat and creating a callous on the leather there.

It isn’t.

Once parked, Steve doesn’t kick his feet up on the dashboard, nor readjust his headrest. He unbuckles his seatbelt and reaches into the backseat, retrieving an impressive number of blankets and a few, cheap beers each.

“Steve,” you accuse, raising your eyebrows bemusedly. “What’s all this?”

“What?” Steve counters, the picture of disinterest, all cool, calm, collected charm. “It’s graduation, alright? I wanted it to be special. Sue me.”

You pout at the sentiment, gaze softening, and the look on your face alone has Steve’s mind short-circuiting.

“You’re awfully sentimental,” you decide.

Steve doesn’t miss a beat. “You make me awfully sentimental.”

He drapes the plush blankets over the cargo bed of his pick-up, helping you climb over the edge before following suit. When he collapses onto it, insisting you spend the evening creating constellations, he looks alarmingly as though he belongs here — pretty girls in his truck, smooth honey sweetening his words.

Perhaps he does, but he can’t remember the last time he put this much effort into making it happen. Because if there’s one thing he knows for certain, it’s that he’ll do everything in his power to see this tradition through. He needs to. Eighteen feels too young for a quarter-life crisis, but he’s fairly certain all this future talk is teetering him dangerously close to the edge of one. Because he’s been pathetic over you since befor he understood what love was — free falling like it’s his full-time job, and the prospect of separating for college is sure to land him with a sickening crunch.

You break the silence once you’ve found home within the blankets.

“Dude,” you say, voice far too small to hold the weight of your words, “five years.”

“Five years,” Steve echoes, in equal disbelief. “All I did was fucking blink.”

You turn your head, nodding once, twice, a safe three times to ensure it sticks. “Right? Right?”

“And there’s so much I didn’t do,” he adds, wistful yet mischievous, like danger you don’t mind entertaining. “So many hot girls I didn’t kiss —”

“Steve,” you huff an exasperated laugh, shoving his shoulder. “I’m serious. Where the fuck did all the time go?”

Steve furrows his brow, gaze searching yours like he’s drinking in this moment. “Wish I knew.”

You nod, watching the sky transform hues of amaranthine. “The last time we were here feels like forever ago.”

And then you backtrack in a hurry, nose scrunched up like you’re embarrassed. “Well,” you say, meeting his eye with a knowing quirk to your brow, “the last time I was here, at least.”

Steve matches your expression, stupid smirk on his stupid face like he doesn’t know the effect he has on you. “Not sure I’m following.”

“Whatever,” you say, calling his bluff. “You know perfectly well how many girls you’ve brought to this spot, king Steve.”

“Oh?” Steve cocks his head to one side, grinning something roguish. “Why? You jealous?”

“Jealous?” You repeat, voice growing a tell-tale, three octaves higher. “No way. It’s like —”

You falter a moment, mind working furiously. There’s a way to say this without sounding hopelessly in love with your best friend — all you have to do is find it.

“Like…?” Steve presses, leaning in close. A hairs breadth away, and you radiate warmth, the natural kind, almost golden, as though you’ve been basking in the sun all day. As though you are the sun.

“Like, uh — okay,” you announce then, straightening a little. “Let’s play a game.”

Steve furrows his brow, momentarily taken aback. “A game?”

“Yeah, okay, so,” you nod, making it up as you go as though that’s ever worked in your favour before. “So. The game.”

And you halt, again, staccato-like sentences in your head, thinking about how Steve would be a total 10 if he wasn’t so blasé with other women. Devastatingly handsome and all charm, points taken off for the tally of girls he keeps on his unblemished heart.

“The game,” Steve prompts, raising his eyebrows.

You wince preemptively, reaching over his torso for the beer cans set on the other side of the cargo bed. The stretch of limbs causes your shirt to ride up, your skin soft against his t-shirt, a fleeting touch of warmth.

Steve fixes you with a look of curious circumspection, watching you open the can in haste and take several, large gulps. Quick and terse, like the beer will make your sentences run together, render them useless.

“Basically,” another gulp, “it’s just a way to reveal your turn-ons and turn-offs. But I thought,” yet another, and the can’s feeling dangerously close to half-empty, “we could make it fun with a little format.”

Steve thinks you look awfully cute chewing on your bottom lip. “Sounds fun,” he grins, hissing open a beer of his own. His first sip is bitter — the liquor is cheap, and he’s sure your lips would taste sweeter.

“So I’d say, like,” you hiccup, smiling sheepishly, “she’s a 10, but… and then add something I think you’d find a turn on or turn off.”

“Okay,” Steve nods, and then he pauses, feeling brave. “One question.”

You take another sip, gesturing vaguely. “Shoot.”

“How did me asking you if you were jealous,” Steve starts, eye contact never wavering as he tips back his beer, “turn into this game?”

You try not to grimace. “Oh,” you stall, crinkling your nose a little. “Well. We were talking about all the girls you’ve brought here.”

“Yeah?” Steve responds bemusedly, not quite following.

“I just think I could predict exactly how they’d be,” you shrug, tone teasing. “Like, could definitely guess your type. It’s textbook.”

Steve cocks an eyebrow at your confidence, nodding slowly. “Alright. I’ll bite. You first.”

And you’re smiling wide, sunshine on your lips, dreadfully unaware of the fact that every girl after you has been a distraction. Steve Harrington doesn’t have a type — there’s only you and your sweet disposition, your kind eyes, your soft skin. You can’t have a type when you found the one at fourteen. And sure, his love is painfully unreciprocated, even more so unrequited, but he’s resigned to his fate — endeared by the mere fact that you’re going to spend the evening guessing at the wrong thing.

“She’s a ten, but,” you start, brow furrowing some, “she refuses to come to your basketball games.”

You’ve come to every single once since he made squad, sophomore year.

“Seven,” Steve answers without missing a beat, images of you in the bleachers blinking through his mind like a movie reel. “Okay. Uh, he’s a seven, but… he listens to those shitty pop songs you love.”

“They’re not shitty,” you insist, scowling playfully. “Easy ten. Nothing’s sweeter.”

Steve’s winning. It’s most definitely why he’s made it his mission to memorise all of your favourite songs.

“Okay,” you continue, eyes twinkling as you turn toward him. “She’s a seven, but she’s really bad at cooking.”

Like you. You’re a dreadful menace in the kitchen, and Steve Harrington knows it, too.

“Still a seven,” he shrugs, not minding one bit. “I can be chef enough for the both of us.”

There’s something so natural about the way he says it, so yours, that you find yourself biting back an endeared smile, trying not to look like a high-school cliché beside him. “Fair point.”

Steve grins, and you feel it bloom warm in your chest. He swallows down a few more gulps of beer, deciding to flirt with fate for a moment. “Okay. He’s a ten, but he’s really bad at conveying his feelings.”

“Hm,” you pause to think, the air filled with an anticipation you can’t quite place. “Like… nine? Not a total deal breaker. Just a little inconvenient.”

And you swear you hear Steve breathe a soft “noted”, but you have to be imagining it — there’s no way there’s an underlying insinuation you’re missing.

“She’s an eight,” you say, seemingly unperturbed, as though someone isn’t flipping Steve’s poor heart in a pan. “But she refuses to come to Skull Rock with you.”

“Zero,” Steve jokes, dodging your playful shove with a grin. “Kidding, totally kidding, still an eight.”

And then he takes a small pause, gaze steadying some, as though the next question he asks risks playing with fire. “Hmmm. Alright. He’s a ten, but…”

He trails off slow, absently licking his bottom lip. “…he’s your best friend, and he doesn’t want to ruin what the two of you have right now.”

“Ha ha,” you scoff, ignoring the way your heart skips a beat. “Solid zero, because the situation is purely platonic.”

Steve raises an eyebrow. “Not to him.”

Your breath catches.

He’s staring at you now, star-spangled sky held within brown irises, and he’s dead serious, you realise, as though your poor heart could in any way handle the revelation.

“What?” You whisper. A cicada buzzes past your ear, air thick and syrupy sweet like honey. “Are you — Steve, what?”

Steve pauses. The expression on your face reads momentarily disarmed, and he isn’t certain he can make sense of it — he’s sure he’s made his feelings for you obvious from the start.

His brow furrows then, searching your features in earnest. “You didn’t know?”

“I — of course not,” you say, voice soft and lips softer. “Are you kidding? How long?”

“Shit,” he curses with a wince, features growing a little sheepish. Were it not for graduation, the prospect of college looming a dangerous, black cloud, Steve’s sure he would’ve escaped your questions with lies — brushed off his confession like it was nothing serious.

Like you were nothing serious, as if there existed any universe where that were true. Steve’s sure even versions of him in alternate dimensions would be hopelessly, pathetically, down bad for you.

“Shit,” he repeats, though it’s a sigh this time, ebbing. He acquiesces, “since forever ago. Since before I could tell the difference between platonic and romantic love.”

And he looks so unlike his cocky exterior, so earnest, as though he’s giving you his beating heart on a silver platter.

You want to keep it.

“But,” you whisper lamely, breathing slight. “I mean — all those other girls —”

“Distractions,” Steve says without missing a beat. “From the one girl I knew I couldn’t have.”

He pauses then, fire and anticipation abuzz in the air. Leaning in, his thumb swipes over the contour of your cheek, his gaze intense enough to drown in — soft enough that he’d save you, if you did. “You have a knack for being just out of reach, dream girl.”

Your lips part at his sweet words, something intoxicating about the way his eye contact never wavers. “Don’t know how true that is anymore, king Steve.”

And he rolls his eyes at the nickname, looking stupidly handsome as he does, thumb tracing your jaw before tucking beside your earlobe. His hand is large on your jaw, warm, the other finding the bare skin of your waist.

“Yeah?” He murmurs, face inches from yours. “How do you know?”

“Because,” your lashes flutter, and you lean in to brush a featherlight kiss on his lips. “I change my answer. He’s still a ten.”

“Wait,” you add, and his eyes may be half-closed but the smile on your lips is audible, “actually, maybe a nine, eight-and-a-half, you aren’t that hot Harrington —”

Steve’s quick to shut you up with a kiss, harder this time, his hand firm on your jaw. And his lips are bruising in the best way, his touch intoxicating, as though this moment in time is all yours and he’s planning on keeping it that way.

There’s nothing chaste about the way his lips descend on your neck, lingering kisses leaving a trail of fire as he finds your collarbone, sunshine warmth on your shoulders. His teeth graze every sensitive spot until the skin purples, sucking it smooth until you’re a gasping mess in his arms. He’s obsessed with it. He’d do this forever if he could.

“Shut up, shut up, shut up,” he says over and over, exploring you with his lips like he’s making up for lost time. “You’re not real, seriously — definitely not real, like…”

And when he trails off and pulls away a moment, he looks so pleased with himself that you feel overwhelmingly shy, as though you aren’t covered in bruising hickeys.

“What’s that face?” You question, quirking an eyebrow at the way he grins.

“What face?” Steve returns with a wink, looking exactly like the guy your parents warn you about. “Oh — this?” His mouth twitches, and he leans in to press a fresh mess of kisses on your cheeks. “It’s just my I’m the guy who got the girl face —”

“Stop,” you warn with a laugh, feeling warm all over. “You’re insufferable.”

“That too,” Steve nods sagely. “And definitely a fucking ten, are you kidding? Take it back.”

“Solid eight,” you insist.

“She’s an eleven,” Steve teases then, thumbing at your bruised, bottom lip. “But she lies sometimes.”

“He’s an eight,” you counter, crinkling your nose playfully. “But he thinks he’s top fucking shit, and you need to humble him.”

“She’s a twelve,” Steve grins, “but she looks crazy hot humbling you.”

“Thirteen,” you answer easily.

“Sixteen,” Steve corrects, and then he kisses you again, and you think — okay, yeah, I could definitely get used to this.

—

series — ongoing

almost paradise by @hawkinsindiana

summary: You’ll never forgive your brother for dragging you into this mess. — Henderson!reader

parallel suns by @foreverrogers

summary: It's summer break, and you need something, or someone, to fill the time with before you go back to college. — friends with benefits, post-season 3

one-shots — fluff

in defence of the babysitters by @lurkymurker

summary: At the Snow Ball, the kids are finally sick of the pining and longing glances between you and Steve. So, they set you up on a date.

crushes, chaos, and confessions by @quin-ns

summary: Dustin knows how Steve feels about you and he can’t stop himself from spilling his best friend’s biggest secret to you.

our kids by @cosmicloki

summary: Steve feels a strange, totally new ‘thing’ when he sees you interacting with the kids, making him imagine things he shouldn’t just yet and unintentionally blurts out something you shouldn't hear just yet.

sleep soft @upsidedownwithsteve

summary: Where you and Steve share a bed.

dancing by @heytherejulietx

summary: Steve and the reader (who has a crush) dancing.

movie night by @heytherejulietx

summary: Where you borrow Steve's sweater and watch a movie together.

losers and the supernatural by @luveline

summary: Steve has a theory about Hawkins being divided into two subsets. You try to work out where you fit within that.

bribery and a movie by @luveline

summary: Steve wants a date with Max’s older sibling. You want Max to be happy. It doesn’t hurt that he’s good looking. — Mayfield!reader

day of the dead by @luveline

summary: Steve likes you, Eddie Munson's best friend, to the point of heart palpitations. you feel the same way about him.

next week by @heartburriedinvenice

summary: In which you just want to rent Back to the Future but every week it has already been rented and every time you come back to check Steve Harrington says it will be back. . . next week and for some reason, you still believe him.

no sleeping over by @sarahisslytherin

summary: Steve has never understood the ‘no sleeping over’ rule. that is, until you doze off beside him one fateful night.

original sin by @robinsgfs

summary: Your new job at Scoops Ahoy was pretty much the cherry on top of your life getting back on track, there was just one tiny little problem that came along with it, you may or may not be in love with your co-worker - and your brother was determined to fix that for you.

you're too drunk for this by @eufezco

summary: In which you’re too drunk to have that conversation.

upside down squad by @scandalous-chaos

summary: You, your chaotic friends, and an extremely annoying Steve Harrington— all trapped in the Upside Down. What could possibly go wrong?

one-shots — angst/ hurt/comfort

don't you (forget about me) by @starberryes

summary: You've always thought Steve Harrington was a weirdo. When you find out you might be in terrible danger, he might be just what you need. — Henderson!reader, lots of sibling bonding

matilda by @cryonme

summary: It's the first year Steve decided to leave his family out of his birthday plans, and for some reason, it hurts. Based on Matilda by Harry Styles.

so it goes by @butterflyk1ss

summary: Where you can't move on and neither can Steve. — exes to lovers

to bring you home by @pellucid-constellations

summary: Steve Harrington’s had his fair share of near death experiences. So have you. A college party doesn’t exactly fit that criteria, but he’d save you from it just the same. He’d save you from everything, if he had the means. — between season 3 and 4

we'll be okay by @quin-ns

summary: Steve is injured while half of the Hawkins team is stuck in the upside down and finds comfort in Y/N.

best thing i never had by @hairrington

summary: When you dive into the terrifying depths of Lovers Lake, you expect to feel the usual when it comes to your recently dangerous adventures: worry, regret, and a big dose of fear. But when you notice the man you’re falling for getting smitten with his ex, you realise even envy can be felt in the Upside Down.

any way the wind blows by @ladymercury8

summary: You get cursed by Vecna, and find yourself floating in midair while Steve suffers a mild breakdown.

dive into you by @seolaseoul

summary: You were done seeing Steve risk his life all the time, so you decided to replace him out of impulse and perhaps, love?

babysitters club (1) (2) by @foreverindreamlandd

summary (1): Where babysitter!reader saves Steve at Lover's Lake.

summary (2): It's Steve's turn to save the reader.

one-shots — smut/ nsfw (18+)

between two scoops by @hawkins-losers

summary: You plans with your friend get cancelled, so you go to Starcourt to annoy your boyfriend at his job.

front seat almost-sex by @1986harrington

summary: Saturday night make-out in your boyfriend’s car is interrupted by a rogue walkie…

kiss me once by @foreverrogers

summary: Where Steve is trying to get over his breakup with Nancy, and you just want sex with no feelings attached.

the thin line between love and hate by @sortagaysortahigh

summary: Y/n Y/l/n and Steve Harrington weren’t enemies, not in the way that most people assumed. — childhood rivals to lovers

star cuffed jeans by @strawberrysodaslut

summary: Late night shifts were the bane of your existence, but Steve finds a way to make it… exciting.

like heaven by @wallhhoes

summary: After having seen Steve flexing his thighs in those ridiculous scoops ahoy shorts you can’t help but want to ride them.

aftercare by @virgoyves

summary: You tend to Steve’s wounds and things escalate.

back aches (1) (2) by @peterparkergirlfriend1

summary (1): Reader has back aches and asks her best friend, Steve, for some help.

summary (2): It's Steve's turn for a massage now.