Stevelover 

simpler version of all that !

chap 1 ||| chap 2 |||

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[✦] [✿] [★] lean on me by @levanswrites| word count: N/A

　　summary: touch-starved doesn’t even begin to cover it. steve harrington is affection-starved. love-starved. he’s been handing out pieces of his heart for years, getting nothing but scraps back. now, he clings like glue—always leaning, always touching, like his body craves closeness and he never learned how to pull back. and it would’ve all been fine… if this wasn't supposed to be just a casual thing. if he hadn’t said I love you, with his whole heart, mid-fuck. 　　thoughts: this is filled to the brim with love and vulnerability and it's all sappy despite it initially not supposed to be that; it is, and it just gets me so so well :( i love love this so very much. sappy fwb fics are a newfound favourite HIHI

[✦] [✿] [★] blue christmas by @agreeewrites | word count: N/A

　　summary: You and Steve were casual fwb in high school. You're back in town for Christmas, having just broken up with your college boyfriend. You pick up a sad Christmas movie at Family Video, and Steve refuses to let you wallow alone. 　　thoughts: exes to lovers might just be the end of meeee this fic is too 🥹 i iwsh steve was real arhghh

[✦] romantically, maybe by @ddejavvu| word count: 9.1k

　　request summary: MAMA 😊 can i request a blurb for steve harrington where the reader has a really big and bold personality but when he's around she kind of shuts down and goes quiet which makes him all sad and confused because he thinks she hates him but everyone is like hello she likes u 　　thoughts: this one was so so so cute hehe :3 also this reader reminds me so much of me 　　　　𓂅 [✦] frog and the toad by @/ddejavvu| word count: 1.6k

　　request summary: N/A 　　thoughts: waaiit the domesticity on this is just so :3 it's just so stinking cute !!!!

[✦] [✿] [★] can we always be this close? by @upsidedownwithemmy| word count: 22.4k

　　summary: A biggie. Best friends to lovers, summer, childhood, pining, crushes, a kiss that wasn't supposed to happen, the last cherry popsicle and three promises. 　　thoughts: EEEEEEEEK childhood bestfriends to lovers trope is top tier but even more so in this fic. kind of awakens my desperation to be wanted and the overall want to be someone's no.1 person and this is such a heart crunch when you read it ACKK

[✿] the things we do for love by @stevebabey | word count: 4k

　　summary: Quarantine blows. Marginally less so when you're with your boyfriend, but, hey, even that isn't without it's whinging and complaints. You decide it's worth risking an encounter with Murray (ugh), if it means getting the chance to surprise your love. It just doesn't occur to you that someone else might have the exact same idea. 　　thoughts: the murray slander is honestly real SHHSAHS this is so so sweet just like a peanut butter bopper they're so so cute !

[✿] lay all your love on me by @sainzzreputaticn | word count: 5.5k

　　summary: steve and you are idiots who don’t confess your feelings to each other for a very long time 　　thoughts: i love it when people in fanfics are the biggest dummies and in love it's just so :3 LIKE JUST KISS ALREADY (this is said with the most affection)

[✦] [✿] six little nuggets by @suprclark | word count: 2.3k

　　summary: you overhear steve talk about the future and realize the version of it you imagined yourself in might not exist. turns out you were wrong. painfully, beautifully wrong. 　　thoughts: another thing that gets me is when people see you in their future even when you think otherwise this made my heart just CRAZY like lemme tell you this. ARGHHHHSFA i want a steve harrington so bad i'm going ballistic here

[✦] [✿] [★] edge of seventeen by @levanswrites| word count: 12k

　　summary: five-year-old steve harrington hates the hamptons—until he meets a barefoot girl with a bucketful of shells and becomes stevie. a coming-of-age story about first friendships, pinky promises, and falling in love, one summer at a time. 　　thoughts: THIS GOT ME RIGHT IN THE FEELS. you just captured the innocence and pure joyous wonder of being a kid while growing up with emotionally distant parents too well AND BRO their friendship is so so stinking cute :( like everything just falls into place just right like they fit too well together and the YEARNING. THE silent longing even after all those years. it's just ADBWHJAB i love this :3

[✿] real girlfriend by @imsogonesposts| word count: 2.1k

　　summary: In an effort to look cool in front of his students, Steve lies and says his best friend is actually his girlfriend and his date to the Snow Ball as he chaperones. 　　thoughts: SO STINKIN CUTE. steve valuing what his students think of him so precious :(

[✦] [✿] fifteen seconds to fall in love by @allforhee| word count: 1.9k

　　summary: stuck looking for answers in the upside down's hawkins lab, dustin purposefully leaves you and steve alone. the risk of an apocalypse nearing forces the two of you to finally open up and maybe solve a rubik's cube in the process. 　　thoughts: dustin is a rascal is all i can say 😭

[✿] i like jocks by @buckyarchives| word count: 6k

　　summary: Steve beats himself up over the fact that you’re Eddie’s type, and Eddie is totally your type as well, and absolutely not Steve’s. 　　thoughts: jealous!steve has a special place in my heart also sometimes makes me wanna wack him over in the head and yell out 'SHE LIKES YOU DUMBASS !!'

[✿] (not) your sweetheart by @marvelwitchergilmore| word count: N/A

　　summary: Since you'd first met Steve Harrington, he'd had one nickname for you. One that you'd denied for years, until the day came where you admitted how it made you feel. 　　thoughts: yeah... i really want a steve harrington in my life. PLEASE WHERE CAN I GET ONE OF HIM???

Masterlist recs !!

　　・┈・┈・ sanguineterrains's masterlist by @/sanguineterrain

　　・┈・┈・ supernovafic's masterlist by @/supernovafics

　　・┈・┈・ limeletter's masterlist by @/limeletters

　　・┈・┈・ katyswrites’ masterlist by @/katyswrites

[✦] [✿] you and i back at it again by @lighteyed | word count: 2.2k

　　summary: steve's left standing alone after starcourt, until you show up for him. 　　thoughts: my favourite genre of steve harrington fanfics as of lately has been very achy two people being there for each other when no one else has

[✿] i am? by @jxstsxgx | word count: 2.2k

　　summary: Steve drinks himself into a dramatic spiral over his unrequited love for his best friend, you. You’re absolutely no help. Mostly because you’re too busy laughing at his dramatic little love confession meltdown. 　　thoughts: this was fucking adorable and hilarious !! and truly the most light and funny steve fic almost ever ! alsoooo i just may or may not just really love funny drunk!confession fics ^0^

[✦] [✿] to be loved is to be seen by @lottevence | word count: N/A

　　summary: after accepting that he needed to focus on himself and stop with the constant dates, steve was forced to face some of the things he bruied inside with some drunken words by his favorite poet for the second time. 　　thoughts: erm reading this just amplified my want and need to be seen so much i actually started crying like full on sobbing. there's such a beauty about slow burn friends to lovers who just see each other—like truly see each other. this fic is just *chef's kiss*

[✦] [✿] shopping trip by @c4tluver02 | word count: 2.4k

　　summary: You asked your best friend Steve to help you pick out and outfit for your date. Being the amazing friend he is, he helps you in more ways than one! 　　thoughts: just a really fun short and sweet fic that i've read too many times for my own good me thinks

[✦] [✿] you deserve each other by @bimrwolf | word count: N/A | completed!series

　　summary: You and Steve have been together for five years. He's seemingly the perfect boyfriend, kisses on the cheek, knowing your orders at restaurant. A great lover. Too bad you've had enough can't stand him. 　　thoughts: OOOO this was sick af !! i really enjoyed that back and forth passive agressiveness and them over all just messing with each other ! like it's like if 'get him back' by olivia rodrigo went both ways. alsooo really love love love the title because it's true that they really deserve each other for the sake and safety of the general public :p

[★] [✦] [✿] don't call me baby by @katyswrites | word count: N/A | completed!series

　　summary: This wasn’t supposed to happen. That’s what you would both tell yourselves, later on. It had started with a bet. You were a cocktail waitress, studying abroad in Rome and working yourself to death to keep yourself afloat. Steve Harrington was a business executive for one of the biggest tech companies in the world, ten years your senior, and earnest enough that it intrigued you. But, there was only one problem - he doesn’t do relationships. Not now, perhaps not ever. So, a deal is struck - something mutually beneficial. No attachments, and you get to be his perpetual mistress, while he makes sure you want for nothing. But, what happens when the agreement becomes more than what either of you bargained for? 　　thoughts: is it bad that i binged the entirety of this instead of sleeping when i read it? :3 it's also not the kind of fanfic premise i click on usually... but lemme tell you i was really hooked on this. and really big bonus point it's set in italy and you have robin buckley as a roomie sooo what more could you possibly ask for?

[✿] romance is dead, isn't it? by @megxplryxb | word count: N/A

　　summary: N/A (but in a nutshell it's friends to lovers on valentines day + deceptive shenanigans) 　　thoughts: u don't know the amount of times i've read this !! it's just soooo ARUUFHAWDHH i want a steve harrington in my life i'm not even bluffing PLEAAASEE

[✿] sick fic !! by @lovebugism | word count: N/A

　　request summary: i don’t know if you do sickfics but! mayhaps steve and shy!reader where she doesn’t show up for school, steve goes to her house, and she’s utterly mortified because she feels like she’s nowhere near presentable 　　thoughts: this one was a really tiny pocket story that just makes me feel soft !!! probably stems for being depraved or something

[★] [✦] [✿] thank me later by @supernovafics | word count: 83.2k | completed!series

　　summary: in which a friendship is surprisingly born in an elevator, and a crush that feels hopeless is developed very soon after that. for what feels like forever, you debate whether or not you should be honest with eddie and see if he maybe feels the same way as you. but, you upsettingly miss your chance to say anything when he gets into a relationship with someone that’s not you. ultimately, you decide to push everything you feel to the side so that you don’t potentially ruin everything between you and him; because at the end of the day, he’s still your best friend. now, two years later, things have changed— there’s a break up, reignited feelings, and pining that feels worse and even more helpless this time around. a blind date leads to you fake dating some guy you barely even know with the hopes of finally getting eddie to see you as more than just a friend. at first, you’re hesitant and you honestly think that steve’s suggestion sounds a little insane. but, then you decide that perhaps it could actually, somehow, maybe work? you and steve haven’t even known each other for a full twenty-four hours before you two are shaking hands and agreeing to fake date for a month, and hoping that you both get what you want out of this abruptly thrown together arrangement. 　　thoughts: i don't even know where to start with this one... LIKE IT HAS EVERYTHING I LOVE !! my og fav trope has always been fake dating for some reason... also i just realised i confuse this fic with another one by the same author which is "i'll be there for you" which is by no exaggeration whatsoever is the best steve fic :3

　　　　𓂅 [★] [✦] [✿] this could last forever by @/supernovafics | word count: 15.9k　　　　　　　　𓂅 this could last forever pt. 2 | word count: 9.4k

　　　　　　　　summary: in which you hate him and he hates you— and that mutual disliking is perhaps the only thing you and him agree on. you make it your mission to avoid and ignore steve at all costs, and nothing more or less than withering stares and annoyed eye rolls are shared among you both whenever you have to see each other, which luckily isn’t that often. but when your son and his daughter end up in the same first-grade class and quickly become friends, it forces things to change between you two. it means that you and him also have to be friends, or, at the very least, tolerate each other’s presence. which is something that is much easier said than done 　　　　　　　　thoughts: i will read every kind dad!steve fic you give to me i will read and this is one of my most most favourite dad!steve fics ever so please read it you'll get major fomo if you don't :3

　　　　𓂅 [★] [✦] [✿] star of the show by @/supernovafics | word count: 41k | completed!series

　　　　　　　　summary: in which before you even meet him, you’ve already heard enough about him. steve harrington— a phenomenal award-winning actor who is known almost exclusively as an asshole. he’s also set to be the lead in the movie that you’re currently working on as a production coordinator. over the years, you’ve somehow found routine in the never-ending hecticness of your job; the abrupt issues you’d have to handle, or the problems that you were tasked to prevent from arising in the first place. all you cared about was doing your absolute best at your job and you always did. but barely a week before filming is scheduled to begin, things change for the worse when, due to extenuating circumstances, you have to also be steve’s assistant for the entire three months of filming. it’s an unexpected addition to your already full plate that completely changes the routine you’d become so accustomed to. and from your first interaction with him, it’s abundantly clear that everything that’s been said about him is true, so your mind is only stuck on one thought, how the hell would you survive three months of being his assistant?  　　　　　　　　thoughts: i read all of this in one go and that morning was spent well. I JUST LOVE THIS SOOO MUCH !! like i really enjoyed the stakes and stuff like how they were gonna balance their careers and each other, and also going from just assistant and assisted (wtf ik sorries i didn't know what to call it) to having a conncection as actual friends and then to eventually something else !! i just loved the gradual build up and not going from point a to lovers directly. alsooo i haven't read this one in a WHILEee SOOO what i'm saying might just be wrong memories HIH

　　　　𓂅 [★] [✦] [✿] star of the show by @/supernovafics | word count: 41k

　　　　　　　　summary: a year in the lives of you and your best friend steve harrington. you never thought that you would be living with this guy you’ve known since you were ten— although it was a hypothetical topic that was discussed at length during the many sleepovers you had over the years. but somehow on a hectic day in august, the stars managed to align, and the next thing you know a lease is being signed and the two of you are moving into a two-bedroom apartment. so far it’s been two months of countless late nights and too many really early mornings where you’re running late to class or steve’s rushing to get to his shift at family video. for the most part, though, it’s a perfect situation. until the lines that felt as if they were clearly drawn in the sand— and had been there from perhaps the moment you and him met— start getting blurrier and blurrier 　　　　　　　　thoughts: MWAHAHA after finishing this fic rec post i'm def rereading this for the millionth time. because i don't there's anything i can say to suffice to amount of love i have for this fic !! honestly with all the things that's happening in the world we just need that one mundane fanfic to run to ! because i cannot really explain the amount of warmth and comfort this fic gives me. and the plot itself is just every single trope i love and pine about over and over again. i kid you not this is the closest thing you can ever get to perfect if you're into just mundane fics. also again resenting the fact that this isn't my life :3

[✿] the only tally mark by @the-case-book-of-fanfiction | word count: 7.2k

　　summary: The 'You Suck' tallies are getting pretty high, but there's a girl in Scoops Ahoy who knows Robin in wrong. If she can just get the courage to open her mouth, Steve's luck is about to change. 　　thoughts: this one is so so awww but also at the same time the sick feeling of this fanfic being my reality is very very apparent with this one

[✦] [✿] tides at moonrise by @limeletters | word count: 6k

　　summary: After being attacked by demobats in the Upside Down, Steve experiences some supernatural changes. 　　thoughts: honestly wish vampire!steve was canon because i erm would've loved to see those bats affect him in someway other than mental scarring and emotional trauma :3 it'd just be a really fun plot

　　　　𓂅 [★] [✦] [✿] the shape of family by @/limeletters | word count: N/A | wip!series

　　　　　　　　summary: As a single dad, Steve’s world revolves around school drop-offs, bedtime rituals, and tee-ball practices—and he's struggling to keep up. But you're always there, happily lending a hand when he needs it most. 　　　　　　　　thoughts: this is such a holy grail. i've read this over and over while waiting for the next chapters like a crazy ex and i just can't. this is the most adorable, warm, sweet and, tooth rotting dad!steve fanfic ever. i kid you not this lived rent free within my head for days after reading it and that's so crazy since the only time that happens is when devasting character deaths happen. it's just that good :( BUTTT the slowburn is truly very REAL with this one i kid you not.

[✦] [✿] so much for summer love by @forevermoreharrington | word count: 10k

　　summary: Steve starts falling for a girl, who’s been trying to get over him, when he definitely shouldn’t be since he’s already in love with someone else but now he’s starting to question whether that’s true or not. 　　thoughts: this has the best kind of torturous things. desperate pining. specially that one that you know has a happy ending anyway but still feel like when you're in the trenches during the yearning bits :p

　　　　𓂅 [✦] [✿] This path is reckless by @/forevermoreharrington | word count: N/A 　　　　　　　　summary: This path is reckless, Steve and his favourite girl get close to crossing the lines of their friendship 　　　　　　　　thoughts: i have not read this in the longest of times but GOD. this just captures my favourite thing ever as i erm... always talk about it :3 like JUST LOVE. that specific point where the lines of friendship and something else blurs and it's all so blissfully sweet or sometimes torturous pining. *chef's kiss*

[✿] here comes your man by @dearest-nell | word count: 2.1k

　　summary: you go to pick up your very drunk boyfriend from the bar after a well deserved night out. 　　thoughts: Silly drunk!fics are my favourites ever !! this was adorable i've read that too many times

[✿] four steps between (best) friends and lovers by @stevebabey | word count: 12k

　　summary: Long-time best friends, it's not a surprise that it's you Steve comes to when he needs a fake girlfriend. One little white lie, one perilous family dinner, one evening of pretending to be a couple. How hard could it be? 　　thoughts: one of the first steve fics i've read on this website and it's so aww :3 it's just such a classic friends to lovers fake dating fic, and the addition of steve having a brother just kind fits so so well !! especially the whole family dynamic they have i think stays true and is faithful to steve in canon HIHI i dunno i just like it's cohesive 　　　　𓂅 [✦] [✿] nine facts, one lie by @/stevebabey | word count: 16.5k

　　　　　　summary: It didn’t matter that your best friend Robin claims he’s changed, you do not like Steve Harrington. He used to be egotistical, a player, an asshole — and you’re not in any hurry to believe he’s changed his ways. 　　　　　　thoughts: ACKKKKK i love myself a really good and well paced slow burn :3 BUT THIS ONE. THIS ONE WAS JUST—IT JUST GOT ME.

[✿] fall right into me by @headkiss | word count: 12k

　　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. 　　thoughts: ROOMIES TO LOVERS I LOVE YOU. ik i say this a lot but this fanfic really struck my heart strings it's just everything i love in a thirteen thousand word fanfic and i would read this to my future kids for bed time

[✿] you said you were gonna grow up (then you were gonna come find me) by @andvys | word count: 10k

　　summary: You and Steve used to be inseparable, best friends since childhood, you shared something special, something rare. You promised each other forever but... promises are never to keep... right? 　　thoughts: hurt/comfort always feels like being punched a lot of times and then given a hello kitty bandaid and i love it.

[✦] [✿] i'll put us back together again at heart by @sanguineterrain | word count: 8.8k

　　summary: It's 1987. You haven't spoken to Steve Harrington in nearly five years. Then Dustin Henderson tells you about a sweet deal he has at Family Video, where he can rent any movie he wants. 　　thoughts: second chance friendships give me the reason to live and wake up everyday. i cried reading this but my tears were compensated with the ending :3 #I'mToSoftForThis

　　　　𓂅 [✦] [✿] a feeling that's fine by @/sanguineterrain | word count: 10.6k 　　　　　　summary: You accidentally climb the wrong fence on the hottest day of May. It turns out to be the best thing that's ever happened to you. 　　　　　　thoughts: ACKKKKK i haven't read this one quite a long while but GOLLYYYY i just love it so much !! i remember thinking like, what if she didn't go to the wrong house what then? then i spiraled about certain unexpected things that happened that branched out to be one of the greatest experiences you've ever had. and ACKKK i just love their dynamic even from the start and how steve immediately showed actual care and concern despite her being this stranger that just showed up at his house unexpectedly EEEEKK!!! the dialogue just feels so natural and the build up !! *chef's kiss* and i just feel very protective of the reader HIHI she just reminds me so much of erm me it's kind of really scary... also debbie u bitch.

　　　　𓂅 [✦] [✿] redemancy by @/sanguineterrain | word count: 5.2k 　　　　　　summary: the act of loving someone who loves you back; a love returned in full // or, four times you kissed Steve Harrington, and one time he finally kissed you back. 　　　　　　thoughts: oh the 5+1 format my beloved !! again this is really such a good fic !!! this made me giggle and kick my feet so hard i nearly fell of my bed actually :3 LIKE BRO A MARRIAGE PACT?? The way they said it with actual sureness and certainty?? like you don't know how much that affected me and that was only the first bit of the fic ! again it's so very heavy on that thing where they unknowingly stand in the line between frienship and something more. IT JUST GETS ME GOOD !! ALSOO like the uncertainty that came in later on. I'M IN BITS. i love how that shows so much vulnerability and how much that pact actually meant, and how it shows it's not just one of those on a whim things that were only meaningful during that time. AND THE GUM. HER REMEMBERED THE GUM.

　　　　𓂅 [✦] [✿] we are not alone by @/sanguineterrain | word count: 15.8k 　　　　　　summary: Your whole life, you felt like you crash-landed on Earth from another planet. It's just another summer where you know that should be somewhere else. Then you meet Steve Harrington. 　　　　　　thoughts: i nearly forogt to add this fic in here but I was checking my drafts in case i forgot to add something and I'm glad i found this !!! this honestly gave me so much comfort becaue the feeling of just not belonging is very present here and I'm glad that this character has a steve and marie everyone needs one of those

[✦] [✿] come home by @stevie-petey | word count: N/A | complete!series

　　summary: a stranger things rewrite. "come home to me, okay?" "always," steve promises. in between saving will, then hawkins, then somehow the world, you fall in love with steve harrington. 　　thoughts: THIS ONE IS JUST WOAH. just might give the duffers a run for their money. anddd ik ST5 hasn't come out yet but i'm really excited for the ST5 rewrite so so bad

[✿] chalkboard hearts by @stevesgother | word count: N/A | complete!series

　　summary: Single parenthood is no easy feat, but you and your daughter Abbey seem to be making it by just fine. That is, until the morning that you drop your daughter off for her very first day of elementary school and meet her teacher for the year: Mr. Harrington. 　　thoughts: kindergarten teacher steve harrington fully wholly has my heart. this fic and 'the shape of family' by @/limeletters just fully captivated me so much i couldn't stop thinking about these fics !! especially because of the circumstances i had growing up this fic feels extra special to me :3 and it really just makes my heart feel so warm and nice. but also the slowburn was *chef's kiss* i just love this fic with all my heart anddd thank you so much writing it :3 <3

Masterlist recs !!

　　・┈・┈・ sanguineterrains's masterlist by @/sanguineterrain

　　・┈・┈・ supernovafic's masterlist by @/supernovafics

　　・┈・┈・ limeletter's masterlist by @/limeletters

　　・┈・┈・ katyswrites’ masterlist by @/katyswrites

MARVEL

Series

ׂ╰┈➤ SUMMER ABROAD (Interactive!) (Updates currently paused)

Summary: With spring semester at Empire State University coming to an end, a group of students prepare to embark on the most life changing summer study abroad program in Italy.

PB&JJ x fem!reader (love pentagon lol)

Marvel AU

Place votes at the end of each chapter to influence the decisions the reader makes, determining who she ends up with!

Summer Abroad Masterlist

𓇼 ⋆.˚ 𓆉 𓆝⋆.˚ 𓇼⋆.˚ 𓆉 𓆝⋆.˚ 𓇼⋆.˚ 𓆉 𓆝⋆.˚ 𓇼

ONE SHOTS

ׂ╰┈➤ PETER PARKER

Wish We Could Be Freinds

Summary: It’s been years since Dr. Strange casted the spell to make the whole world forget who Peter Parker was. Sometimes, he wonders where you are and how you’ve been. He wishes you two could be friends, but knows you can’t.

Dirty Little Secret

Summary: Tony Starks daughter, Wanda’s powers (but purple), dating the new intern in secret. What could possibly go wrong when Clint falls through the vents right after you sneak in your secret boyfriend?

When Did You Get Hot? (request)

Summary: It’s been a while since you’ve seen the shy, dorky, awkward, Peter Parker. Now in college, you can’t deny his clear glow up.

Was That Another Reference? (request)

Summary: Tony immediately regrets introducing his nerdy daughter to his nerdy intern, both in which can’t seem to carry on a conversation without a reference.

Bed Chem (request) WIP

What Is This Feeling? (request) WIP

Was That Another Reference? Pt. 2 (request) WIP

ׂ╰┈➤ JOHNNY STORM

Be My Baby

Summary: The night Johnny Storm met you, he knew he needed you. You were different, juxtaposed him, and that drew him in like a magnet.

Baby, I Love You

Summary: It’s been a little over a week since you and Johnny had been seeing each other. You meet his family and they instantly take a liking to you, so much so that Reed wants you to join the team due to your intelligence. The job had been mellow, that was until Galactus.

When I Saw You

Summary: After Galactus, you and your boyfriend take a break, going to your family’s beach house in the Hamptons. At dinner, you both get a bit tipsy, reminiscing on your relationship.

Rumors

Summary: There’s been a lot of rumors going around as of late, and you’re at the center of all of them. None of them bother you, that is until you hear about one that concerns you and Johnny, the very boy you despise.

Distant Memory

Summary: You and Johnny Storm have been hopelessly in love for years. At least, you were, or rather that’s what you’re being told. You have no recollection of the past after saving the world. Johnny makes it his mission to save your love.

Brightest Star in My Universe

Summary: In one universe, it all goes wrong. Johnny Storm loses the love of his life. In another, it all goes right and she lives, except, he isn’t exactly in the picture…until he is.

I Think He Hates Me

Summary: Franklin is forced to spend a hectic fall night with you and your boyfriend, Johnny Storm. Unfortunately for Johnny, Franklin has it out for him.

Whatever it Takes

Summary: In this Universe, the Avengers and Fantastic Four coexist. When Thanos comes and wipes out half of the universe, only two people are sent to Vormir to retrieve the soul stone. You and your boyfriend, Johnny Storm.

West Savannah

Summary: In which Johnny Storm falls in love one night, gets his heart broken another. But, at least you fell in love and shared something greater than the darkness that consumed you.

Destined for Doom (request)

Summary: In which Johnny Storm tears apart the entire multiverse to bring you back.

Go to Bed

Summary: It’s a cold winter night when the power goes out. Unlucky for you, you’re from another planet with a warmer climate. Good thing your boyfriend is a literal human furnace…who won’t go to bed.

ׂ╰┈➤ ROBERT REYNOLDS

No.1 Party Anthem

Summary: While at a party, trying to escape his own problems, you catch Bob’s eye. He’s immediately drawn to you. He longs for a deep and meaningful connection with someone, to have someone to give his life meaning again. He contemplates having that connection with you or just leaving it as a casual encounter for your own good.

Keep the Door From Closing

Summary: You and Bob used to date. Before the serum, before the fame, before he became the renowned Sentry. But now, that relationship is nothing but a distant memory. That is until you pick up a new job.

ׂ╰┈➤ PB&JJ

Outcasts

Summary: It’s 2005 and you and your friend group are certified losers who have a garage band striving to make a name for yourselves.

Outcasts - The Interview

Summary: It’s been five years since your band first went viral on YouTube. Now, famous late night talk show host, Tony Stark, wants your band for an interview.

𓇼 ⋆.˚ 𓆉 𓆝⋆.˚ 𓇼⋆.˚ 𓆉 𓆝⋆.˚ 𓇼⋆.˚ 𓆉 𓆝⋆.˚ 𓇼

STRANGER THINGS

Series

ׂ╰┈➤ HEROES (Interactive)

Summary: An unexpected group of outcasts and nerds must come together to solve their small town’s mysteries, learning what it means to become found family and heroes.

Stranger Things x Fem!Adopted!Henderson!Reader

Place votes at the end of each chapter to influence the decisions made by the reader, determining relationship outcomes, romance outcomes, and who you become by the end of the story!

Heroes Masterlist

ׂ╰┈➤ Against the Current

Summary: Steve Harrington doesn’t have the ideal reputation, and his criminal record doesn’t help. When his mother abandons him after his father leaves, he’s lucky that Chief of Police, Jim Hopper, takes a chance on him, inviting him into his chaotic home with open arms. There’s just one rule of the household: don’t fall in love with his oldest daughter. Who would Steve Harrington be if he didn’t break a couple of rules every now and then?

Steve Harrington x Fem!Adopted!Hopper!Reader

Early 2000’s summer AU

Against the Current Masterlist

𓇼 ⋆.˚ 𓆉 𓆝⋆.˚ 𓇼⋆.˚ 𓆉 𓆝⋆.˚ 𓇼⋆.˚ 𓆉 𓆝⋆.˚ 𓇼

One Shots

ׂ╰┈➤ STEVE HARRINGTON

Not Happy Screams

Summary: Anytime your boyfriend comes over, you’re meant to keep the door open three inches. You’ve found a loophole to this rule: just sneak him in every night. Surely, you’ll never be caught…right?

The First I Love You

Summary: You and Steve were never overly fond of each other…or at least you assumed the feeling was mutual. That was until he confesses how he truly feels in a public restroom after getting interrogated by Russians.

As the World Caves In

Summary: In which you and Steve are trapped in a room in the Upside Down with no way out. As the world caves in and as death awaits you, you both finally admit what you should’ve admitted way sooner.

The Man Who Can’t Be Moved

Summary: You and Steve have a deep history with an unwavering connection. After learning about your true heritage, you bail for fear of your lover’s safety. For what seems to be indefinite, he returns to the place you both first met in hopes of your return. You never show up and he never sees you again. Or, so most people would assume…

Purple Rain

Summary: The world is ending, you and Steve are on bad terms, yet both of you have unspoken feelings for one another. Shame you’ll both never get to live out the rest of your lives together.

Heart to Heart

Summary: Your dad knows exactly what it’s like to be young, stupid, and in love, which is exactly why he’s worried about how far you and Steve have taken your relationship. Spiraling, he goes to Joyce who suggests a heart to heart...He doesn’t exactly take her advice.

So…Maybe We’re Lost

In which you and Steve Harrington are camp counselors and your coworker doesn’t seem to have any sense of direction, meaning…you’re lost in the woods until night fall.

Operation: Save Steve’s Love Life

Summary: After a messy break up with Steve Harrington three years ago, he can’t seem to get over you. The party has had enough of dealing with his misery and takes matters into their own hands. Max proposes Operation: Save Steve Harrington’s Love Life.

Too Late, Sweetheart

Summary: Steve and Eddie have a sinister plan to take out some of their friends. You’re first on the list, little do they know, you won’t go down so easily.

Thinking of You

Steve Harrington was your first and most profound love. You broke up a year ago and you can’t help to see pieces of him in your new relationship with Eddie Munson.

ׂ╰┈➤ EDDIE MUNSON

Too Late, Sweetheart

Summary: Steve and Eddie have a sinister plan to take out some of their friends. You’re first on the list, little do they know, you won’t go down so easily.

Thinking of You

Summary: Steve Harrington was your first and most profound love. You broke up a year ago and you can’t help to see pieces of him in your new relationship with Eddie Munson.

ׂ╰┈➤ Robin Buckley

All The Things She Said

Summary: You haven’t seen Robin Buckley in weeks. Not since your on and off relationship finally came to its ‘final’ end. Unable to keep each other off of your minds, your friends suggest heading to the club. Unbeknownst to both parties, you’re there at the same exact time.

ׂ╰┈➤ HENRY CREEL

It Was Never You (request)

Summary: After navigating your way through Camazotz, you realize you’ve been wrong about your father all along.

𓇼 ⋆.˚ 𓆉 𓆝⋆.˚ 𓇼⋆.˚ 𓆉 𓆝⋆.˚ 𓇼⋆.˚ 𓆉 𓆝⋆.˚ 𓇼

Mixtape Series

Send in a request with a character and a song to go along with it! (I’ve gotten a few of these requests and will be getting to them soon!)

Burning Up - Nancy Wheeler x Reader (WIP)

Every Breath You Take - Nancy Wheeler x Reader (WIP)

And I Love Her - Johnny Storm x Reader (WIP)

Head Over Heels - Jonathan Byers x Reader (WIP)

I Was Made For Loving You - Henry Creel x Reader (WIP)

Say It Ain’t So - Joaquin Torres x Reader (WIP)

You Make Loving Fun - Joaquin Torres x Reader (WIP)

𓇼 ⋆.˚ 𓆉 𓆝⋆.˚ 𓇼⋆.˚ 𓆉 𓆝⋆.˚ 𓇼⋆.˚ 𓆉 𓆝⋆.˚ 𓇼

Other WIPS:

Peter Parker angst one shot

The Byers' family women had always been fierce.

You defended your brothers in more than one way -- in all of the ways that your mother couldn't be there for. You'd joined forces to make sure that your brothers' sensitive souls were always protected. Jonathan, your twin, was gentle, quiet, and never one to snap. Will was the same.

That couldn't be said for you or your mom.

You'd socked more bullies in the face than you could count when you were in middle school. When things were their worst for Jonathan, no one could so much as look at him without you kicking them in their knees with your sparkly pink sneakers, promptly ensuring that no one would ever touch him again or get the chance to say something that he'd think about for days after.

Will, your younger brother, knew you extended the same type of protection to him. But instead of putting your hands on people, you terrified the little shits by chasing them in your Sedan, honking loudly. You'd yank the window down and yell something in warning, then drive away satisfied.

You were the spitting image of Joyce.

You were a storm in a hand-me-down flannel. The spitfire second child, born ten minutes after Jonathan and inheriting all the fight he seemed to have been born without. Where Jonathan observed the world through a camera lens, absorbing its pain and beauty quietly, you met it head-on, fists up and teeth bared. You were your mother’s daughter through and through -- the same wild curls, the same wide, expressive eyes that could flash from warmth to warning in a heartbeat, the same stubborn set to your jaw that said try me.

Joyce fought monsters you couldn’t see, battles with bills and bad wiring and a world that felt constantly tilted against her. You fought the monsters you could. The ones with names like Troy and James, who shoved Will into lockers and called Jonathan a freak. Your weapon of choice evolved with age: the sparkly pink sneakers of middle school gave way to a terrifying competence with your father’s old wrench, the one he'd left when he did, and finally, to a reputation. A reputation that said, mess with a Byers, and you answer to her.

Jonathan never asked you to fight his battles. He’d just give you a small, irritated frown when you came home with scraped knuckles, wordlessly cleaning you up at the kitchen sink. Will would look at you with a mixture of awe and worry, knowing his big sister was a force of nature, one he was secretly grateful was on his side.

The Byers family was a fortress, and you were its most volatile, loyal guard. You loved fiercely, protected violently, and held a grudge like it was a cherished heirloom. You didn’t start fights, but you sure as hell finished them.

When Will went missing, it wracked you and your brother's souls -- and destroyed your mother's. She was spiraling out of control, and you two were desperately trying to hold her together in any way you could. Caught between missing and grieving Will and making sure your mother would survive, it definitely made things tense.

The world had gone silent in the worst way. Will’s absence wasn't just an empty chair at dinner; it was a scream that had sucked all the sound out of the house, leaving only the frantic, scraping noise of your mother’s fear. You watched her tape up Christmas lights, her hands trembling, her eyes seeing things you couldn't. The fortress was cracking, and you and Jonathan stood in the breach, holding up the crumbling walls with your bare hands.

You took the night shifts, patrolling the quiet, oppressive dark of the house with Lonnie’s old wrench held tight, your knuckles white. Jonathan took the days, following your mother on her desperate errands, a silent, anxious shadow. You communicated in looks, in sighs, in the way you’d wordlessly make a pot of coffee at 3 AM for the other. The twin bond, usually a quiet understanding, had become a taut wire of shared dread.

School was a forgotten concept. The bullies, the whispers, the petty high school dramas -- they were echoes from another life. Steve Harrington and his court were irrelevant, just background noise in a town that was eating your family alive.

Until they weren’t.

The aroma of the corner store made you cringe -- all of the smells combined themselves into a raunchy odor. Pizza, cleaning supplies, medication and plastic. You'd only gone in to buy Jonathan something to eat. In fact, you were forcing it on him, just like you had to force your mother sometimes.

Fingering a 5 dollar bill out of your back pocket, you paid for the slice of pizza and the bottle of soda quickly, giving the clerk a polite smile before getting out of there as quickly as you could.

The street was empty. Jonathan and Nancy were nowhere to be seen.

Furrowing your eyebrows, you took a few steps forward before you heard the commotion. Scuffling, yelling, Nancy's cries of "stop!" You turned into the direction you'd heard it, your steps increasing in speed until you reached a jog. This was the sound of danger. This was a sound you were familiar with -- your brother being fucked with.

As you rounded the corner, the scene unfolded in front of you.

"BYERS IS A PERV" spray painted onto a garage door in red ink, glaring into your face brightly.

Steve Harrington, the infamous douchebag king of Hawkins High, had an iron tight grip on your brother, close to wrestling him to the ground. Without another word, you stalked forward, shoving the brown paper bag of Jonathan's lunch into Nancy's arms when you finally reached her, and threaded yourself quickly between the two men.

Your shoulder connected hard with Steve's chest, shoving him back a step, breaking his grip on Jonathan. Then, you curled your nimble hands into Steve's shirt, shoving him further, watching him stumble back.

"You wanna fight someone? Fight someone who's good at it!" You hissed.

Before Steve could regain his footing, there was a crack in the air. A groan followed soon after, but immediately, another crack sounded. After years of fighting for your brother, you'd learned how to do it effectively, not giving Steve time to respond before decking him yet again in his face.

"Where'd all that confidence go now, Harrington? Huh?" You taunted, watching him fall, jeans soaked in a puddle on the pavement, bleeding on the ground.

"Y/N, stop it--" Jonathan attempted, but you were beyond that.

Reeling your leg back, you sent it straight into Steve's gut.

Once.

"Don't you ever fucking touch--"

Again.

"--my brother again, you brainless--"

The final time, releasing all of the power in your lean, trembling body.

"--douchebag!"

The final kick was a punctuation mark of pure, unadulterated fury. Steve folded around the impact with a sickening wheeze, curling into a fetal position on the wet asphalt. The alley fell into a shocked, heavy silence, broken only by Steve's ragged, pained gasps.

You stood over him, chest heaving, the adrenaline a deafening roar in your ears. You’d done it. You’d put the king in the mud. It should have felt like victory. It just felt like another terrible thing in a week of terrible things.

Nancy was staring at you with wide, horrified eyes, the brown paper bag crumpled forgotten in her arms. Jonathan looked pale, his own anger drained away, replaced by a deep, unsettling worry. He wasn't looking at Steve; he was looking at you.

And Steve… Steve was looking at you too.

Slowly, agonizingly, he pushed himself up onto his elbows. Blood and dirty water streaked his face, his expensive jacket was ruined, and he was holding his stomach where your foot had connected. But his eyes, one already swelling shut, were locked on you with an intensity that felt like a physical touch.

He didn't look angry. He didn't look humiliated.

He looked… transfixed.

A slow, pained look of shock spread across his bloody face. "Holy shit," he breathed, the words a pained rasp of pure wonder.

In the midst of your confusion, there were police in the alley. To add bullshit to bullshit, you were being arrested.

The cold, impersonal grip of the officer’s hand on your bicep was a jarring slap back to reality. The adrenaline haze evaporated, leaving you shivering in your damp clothes, the metallic taste of fury still on your tongue. You didn’t resist as you were pulled away from Steve, who was still staring at you from the ground with that dazed, bloody smile.

“You’re under arrest for assault,” the officer was saying, his voice a flat monotone as he recited your rights.

Assault. The word seemed ridiculous. You’d been defending your brother from the guy who’d just spray-painted a lie about him for the whole town to see. You looked over at Jonathan, who was being questioned by another cop, his face pale and pinched. Nancy was crying quietly, her arms wrapped around herself.

As you were led toward the waiting patrol car, you heard a groan and a scramble of movement.

When you looked back, Steve, Tommy, and Carol were all gone. Groaning, you allowed yourself to be tucked into the squad car.

The ride to the police station was a blur of gray streets and the officer's low, crackling radio. Your knuckles throbbed in time with your heartbeat. The quiet in the car was oppressive, broken only by the occasional staticky transmission.

It gave you too much time to think. To replay the scene. The red spray paint. Jonathan's terrified face. The solid, sickening impact of your fists and feet connecting with Steve Harrington. And that look on his face... that wasn't right. People didn't look at you like that after you beat them senseless. They cowered. They swore revenge. They didn't stare like you'd just performed a miracle.

The processing at the station was a numb, bureaucratic nightmare. Mugshot. Fingerprints. The cold metal of the holding cell bench seeping through your damp jeans. You sat, arms wrapped around yourself, staring at the scuffed floor. They'd let Jonathan and Nancy go after taking their statements. You were the one who'd thrown the punches. Well, and the kicks.

You didn't know how long you'd been there when the heavy door clanged open. There stood Hopper, gesturing for you to come out.

"You're being released. Your family has been through enough without this," Hopper remarked. "Your mother's here. No more assaulting people."

Hopper’s voice, a familiar gravelly mix of authority and exhausted compassion, cut through the fog. You looked up, meeting his tired eyes. He gave you a brief, almost imperceptible nod. It wasn’t approval, but it was understanding. He knew what it was to fight for family.

You stood, your joints protesting, and followed him out of the cell. The fluorescent lights of the station lobby were blinding. And there was Joyce, a small, frantic silhouette against the harsh light. She looked like she’d been carved from pure anxiety, but when she saw you, she surged forward, pulling you into a hug so tight it hurt your bruised ribs. You didn’t mind.

“Oh, honey,” she murmured, her voice cracking. Her hands fluttered over your back, your arms, as if checking for broken pieces.

“I’m okay, Mom,” you mumbled into her shoulder.

She pulled back, her eyes scanning your face, landing on your raw knuckles. A flicker of that old, fierce pride shone through the worry before it was swallowed by fresh fear. “We’re going home.”

Hopper cleared his throat. “I’ll drive you. Your car’s still back there, and you,” he pointed a thick finger at you, “are in no state.”

You didn’t argue. The thought of getting behind the wheel made your hands shake. You just nodded.

-

When the worst was over, it seemed that everyone's perspective on Steve changed. Aside from yours, of course.

Will had returned home, tentatively healthy. Your mom was doting over him more than ever. Jonathan was now transfixed on Nancy Wheeler. And you were back in your element -- working at the automotive shop in town. There were three of them; you just happened to work at the one that Steve and family took his BMW to.

He knew it was weird. He knew it was completely off center and extremely to the left that ever since you'd kicked the dog shit out of him, he was completely enamored by you. But he couldn't help it. And he saw you a few times a week -- after all, he chaperoned your little brother and his friends wherever they went. When he picked Will up and he clambered his way into Steve's backseat to sit next to Mike, he always looked up into the window. And he always caught your look of distaste.

He'd helped your family. He'd protected the kids. He'd swung nail covered bats at alien creatures with 200 teeth to defend Jonathan. But you still hated him. It should've driven him away.

But.. Steve Harrington had a problem.

It wasn't the usual kind. Not failing grades, or a fight with his dad, or even the lingering, bone-deep terror from facing down inter-dimensional monsters. No, his problem had your wild, furious eyes, your fists that hit like a freight train, and a grudge you held that was colder and harder than the wrench you’d once threatened him with.

You. Your name was a constant hum in the back of his mind, a background noise to every other thought. It had been months. Months since the alley, since the spray paint and the blood and the blinding, life-altering moment you’d looked down at him, a vengeful angel in a hand-me-down flannel, and he’d realized he’d never seen anything more beautiful.

Everyone else had moved on. Hell, he’d moved on, in every practical sense. He’d ditched the asshole crown. He’d apologized to Jonathan (who’d accepted it with a quiet, wary nod). He’d become the kids’ glorified babysitter, a role that was somehow more exhausting and more rewarding than being King Steve had ever been. He’d fought actual monsters. He was trying to be a better guy.

But it all felt… secondary. Like he was just killing time between sightings of you.

He saw you at the shop, grease smudged on your cheek, wielding tools with a competence that made his mouth go dry. He saw you dropping Will off, your expression softening for a millisecond for your little brother before hardening again when you spotted him. He saw you everywhere, and every time, it was like a punch to the solar plexus, a jolt of something electric and painful and addicting.

He knew it was pathetic. Tommy would have laughed himself sick. Nancy, in the brief, awkward moments they still had to interact, looked at him with a sort of pitying confusion. He didn’t care.

Because the thing was, Steve had been liked his whole life. For his hair, his car, his family’s money, his position on the team. It had been easy, surface-level. What he felt for you was the exact opposite of easy. It was a bruise that wouldn’t fade. An obsession born not from getting what he wanted, but from being thoroughly, decisively destroyed by it.

You hated him. He could see it in every line of your body when he was near, in the way your eyes would sweep over him like he was something unpleasant you’d stepped in. You held that grudge like it was a precious thing, and he was weirdly, desperately proud of you for it. Of course you wouldn’t forgive him. He didn’t deserve it. You had standards. You had fire.

He wanted to stand in that fire forever.

So he drove the kids to the arcade, he picked up parts from the shop even when he didn’t need to, he made sure Will got home safe, and he stole every single glance of you he could get. He was a lovesick idiot, pining after you, who’d probably rather set his car on fire than speak to him. And the worst part -- the truly, wonderfully, sickeningly worst part -- was that he wouldn’t have it any other way. The kick had broken something in him, and all the king's horses and all the king's men couldn't put Steve Harrington back together again. He didn't want them to. He just wanted you to look at him one more time, even if it was with pure, unadulterated hate.

The scent of motor oil and old rubber was a familiar comfort, a welcome replacement for the cloying smells of antiseptic and fear that had haunted the house for weeks. You were back where you belonged: under a car, the solid weight of an engine above you, a problem you could actually solve in your hands.

You were replacing the alternator on a sleek BMW. You knew whose car it was. Of course you did. It was an unwelcome, persistent fact, like a pebble in your shoe. Steve Harrington’s shiny, expensive toy. The shop owner, old man Murdoch, had handed you the work order with a grunt, and you’d taken it without a word, because a job was a job, and you were damn good at this one.

But it didn’t mean you had to like it.

As you tightened a bolt, your knuckles -- the same ones that had split open on his jaw months ago -- ached faintly with the memory. You could still see the red spray paint. You could still hear Nancy’s cry, and feel the sickening give of his ribs under your foot. The violence didn't haunt you; you’d done what needed doing. What haunted you was the aftermath. The way he’d looked at you. Not with anger, but with a dazed, bloody wonder. It had been confusing then, and it was infuriating now.

Because now, he was everywhere. A permanent, unwanted fixture. He’d wormed his way into your family’s new, fragile peace. Will spoke of him with a hesitant admiration. Your mom mentioned him in passing, a tone of weary gratitude in her voice. Jonathan… Jonathan had forgiven him. Or at least, he’d accepted his help, which in your brother’s book was close enough.

It made your blood boil. They’d all forgotten. Forgotten the years of whispers, the casual cruelty, the way he and his friends had made your brothers feel small. They saw the redeemed hero, the monster-fighting babysitter. You saw the entitled king who’d only changed his tune because the world had literally gone to hell, and even then, it had taken you beating it into him first.

Your forgiveness wasn’t for sale. Not for apologies, not for nail bats, not for driving your brother home. That grudge was yours. You’d polished it, honed it, held it close. It was the last line of defense for the people you loved, a reminder that not everyone got a clean slate just because they decided to stop being the worst version of themselves.

Hearing steps crackle on the garage cement, you slid out from under the car, anticipating a customer or your boss coming to see how the work was going. Wiping your hands quickly on a rag, you turned to face them, a professional look on your oil blemished face.

Immediately, your jaw set.

Harrington.

He stood in the open bay doorway, backlit by the sinking sun like some misplaced golden boy statue. He had his hands shoved in the pockets of his jeans, his shoulders slightly hunched, as if trying to make himself smaller. The confident swagger he’d worn like a second skin in the halls of Hawkins High was gone, replaced by a nervous, watchful energy that was almost worse.

“Hey,” he said, his voice a little too casual, like he’d practiced the tone in the mirror.

You didn’t say anything. You just stared at him, the rag twisting tight in your grip.

He cleared his throat, his eyes darting from your face to the BMW and back again. “Is it, uh… is it ready?”

You bit your cheek, your eyes analyzing him like a snake did its prey. "No. It'll take a couple more minutes. Feel free to wait." You said shortly.

Steve fought the urge to shiver. The frigidness of your demeanor was enough to cool down the entire garage. But something about it was just so intriguing, he couldn't get enough.

The corner of his mouth twitched, not quite a smile, more like a reflex to the verbal slap. "Okay," he said, his voice softer now. "I'll wait."

He didn't go back to the waiting area with the stained magazines and the lukewarm coffee. He just... hovered. Leaning against the tool cabinet a careful distance away, watching you as you slid back under the car. He knew he shouldn't. He knew it made you bristle, that it probably violated some unspoken rule. But he was a moth to a particularly dangerous, grease-stained flame.

The sounds from under the car were efficient, professional: the clink of metal, the ratcheting of a wrench, the soft thud of something being set aside. You worked with a focused silence that was somehow louder than any tantrum.

He cleared his throat again. "What made you choose cars?"

You stilled. "What?"

He faltered slightly, but persevered. "What, um.. What made you choose working on cars? As a line of work."

Your wrench clattered against the concrete floor with a loud, jarring ring. The sudden noise made Steve jump.

For a long moment, there was only the fading echo of metal on concrete. You didn't move from under the car. He could see the tense line of your legs, frozen in place.

When you finally spoke, your voice was dangerously quiet, each word measured and sharp. "Why do you care, Harrington?"

He swallowed, his throat dry. This was it. This was the crack he'd been prying at, and it was about to split wide open, maybe right in his face. "I just... I don't know. I see you here, you're... you're really good at it. Seems like more than just a job. I was curious."

You slid out from under the car slowly, like a predator emerging from its den. You didn't stand up. You stayed on the creeper, looking up at him from the floor, grease smeared across your cheekbone, your eyes blazing. The position should have made you seem vulnerable. It didn't. It made him feel like he was the one being inspected from a disadvantage.

"You want to know what made me choose cars?" you repeated, your voice low. "Lonnie."

The name hung in the oily air. Steve knew that name. Everyone in Hawkins knew the story of Lonnie Byers, the deadbeat dad who took off.

"He left a lot of things when he walked out," you continued, your gaze never leaving his. "Bills. A broken family. A lot of bad memories." You picked up the wrench you'd dropped, your grip tightening on the handle. "And a toolbox. A really nice, professional-grade toolbox."

You pushed yourself to your feet in one smooth motion, the wrench held loosely at your side. "My mom was drowning. Jonathan was... Jonathan. Will was a baby. The bills kept coming. So I opened the toolbox." You took a step toward him, and he couldn't have moved if he wanted to. "I figured out how to fix the sink. Then the wiring in the wall that was making the lights flicker. Then the neighbors' lawnmower for twenty bucks. Then Mr. Perkins' pickup when it wouldn't start, for fifty."

You were close enough now that he could see the flecks of gold in your furious eyes, smell the sharp, clean scent of the industrial soap you used under the grease. "It was the one thing he left that wasn't completely useless. The one thing I could turn into something that actually helped my family. So I got good at it. Really good. Because when the world is falling apart, being able to fix something, anything, makes you feel like you're not completely powerless."

You stopped, your chest rising and falling slightly. The raw honesty of the confession seemed to hang between you, stark and uncomfortable. You'd just shown him a piece of your backbone, the gritty, unglamorous reason for your competence, and you looked like you regretted every word.

"So that's why, Steve," you finished, your voice dropping back to its usual icy chill. "Not because it's fun. Not because I like getting dirty. Because it pays the bills he left behind. Now, are we done with the heartfelt interviews, or do you need to know my favorite color next?"

He just stared at you, his heart hammering. He’d asked for a glimpse behind the wall, and you’d handed him a blueprint of your soul, etched in hardship and resilience. It was the most incredible, devastating thing he’d ever heard. He’d never wanted to kiss someone and apologize to them so badly in his entire life.

"Blue," he heard himself say, his voice hoarse.

Your brow furrowed. "What?"

"Your favorite color. It's blue. Will told me."

You stared for a moment, your eyes mixing shock with the leftover hatred from moments ago. Then, as if snapping back into yourself, you laughed bitterly.

"Obviously me spraining your ribs with my size 6 taught you nothing." You hissed. "I don't like you, Harrington."

The laugh, bitter and sharp, was the final straw. Something snapped inside Steve. The awe, the infatuation, the desperate hope -- it all coalesced into a stubborn, white-hot defiance. He was done just taking it.

He took a step forward, closing the distance you’d just created. He didn't tower over you, but his presence was suddenly solid, immovable. The playful, nervous energy was gone, replaced by a quiet intensity that mirrored your own.

“I know you don’t like me,” he said, his voice low and steady, cutting through the garage’s hum. “Trust me, the feeling’s been made crystal clear.”

You stared right up into his face, not moved at all by his change in behavior. But it didn't surprise him, nor did it scare him.

"I hate you. You and your fuck-face friends terrorized Jonathan for years. You broke his camera, which I don't know if you realized, but was his entire world," you growled. "And we aren't made of money like the Harrington family. If Nancy didn't feel bad, that would've taken over a year to replace."

Instead of cutting in, instead of a rebuttal, Steve just listened.

"Tommy used to knock his books out of his hands and shove him into lockers until I put a stop to it," You continued, jabbing a finger into Steve's chest. He could feel the warmth of your touch seep through his sweater. "I know your kind. You're all self-centered, shallow, day-dreaming morons. You think you have all the answers, or that your magical charm is gonna forge a relationship between us? You're delusional. I don't know what your problem is, or why you stare at me all the time, ask my brothers questions about me, why you're so obsessed, but you're gonna get a rerun of the ass kicking from months ago if you don't use your brain a little bit!" You finished, breathing hard.

Steve didn't flinch. He didn't step back. He absorbed every word like a blow, letting them land, letting them settle. The truth of them was a bitter pill, but he swallowed it. He’d earned every single accusation.

When you finished, chest heaving, finger still pressed against his sternum, he was quiet for a long moment. The garage felt charged, the air thick with the history you’d just thrown in his face.

Finally, he spoke, his voice rough but calm. "You're right."

You dropped the hand that was pressing a harsh fingertip against his chest.

"About all of it," he continued, his gaze unwavering. "I was a self-centered, shallow moron. Tommy and Carol... they were my friends, and I let it happen. I didn't start it, but I didn't stop it. I'm sorry about his camera. I'm sorry about the spray paint. I'm sorry for what I said about your family. I'm sorry for every single day Jonathan felt small because of me or anyone near me."

He took a slow breath, your touch still burning a hole through his sweater. "But I'm not asking for a relationship. I don't have any charm, not with you. It doesn't work. All I've got is this." He gestured between the two of you, at the scant inches of charged space. "This... whatever it is. This thing where you want to murder me and I can't stop thinking about you. I don't understand it either. But I'm not going to pretend I'm not obsessed. I am. I'm completely obsessed with you, Y/N Byers."

He saw the shock flash in your eyes, the way your anger momentarily faltered, replaced by sheer disbelief.

"And you're right about another thing," he said, his voice dropping even lower, almost a whisper. "I am delusional. Because I think, somewhere under all that justified hate, you see that I'm trying. You see that I'm not that guy anymore. And that pisses you off even more, because it’s easier to hate a cartoon villain than a real person who’s actually sorry."

You felt your throat close up.

"So go ahead," he murmured, his eyes holding yours, dark and serious. "Give me that rerun. Kick my ass again. I'll probably thank you for it. But it won't change anything. I'm not going anywhere. I'm going to keep driving your brother around. I'm going to keep picking up my car from this shop. And I'm going to keep being pathetically obsessed with you until you look at me and see something other than an asshole in a varsity jersey."

The silence that followed was absolute. The hum of the fluorescent lights seemed to grow louder, the scent of oil and metal suddenly overwhelming. Your hand, which had been jabbing his chest, now hung limply at your side, tingling with the phantom echo of his heartbeat.

He’d stripped it all bare. No defenses, no excuses, just the raw, ugly, bewildering truth. An obsession. He’d named it, claimed it, and laid it at your feet like a challenge.

You wanted to hit him. The urge was a physical pulse in your tightened fists. You wanted to wipe that intense, earnest look off his face, to prove that nothing he said could penetrate the fortress of your resentment.

But you couldn’t move.

Because he was right. It was easier to hate the caricature. The King Steve who sneered from the yearbook, the one-dimensional bully. This Steve -- the one with shadows under his eyes from babysitting monsters, the one who spoke in a ragged whisper about being sorry, the one who looked at you like you were a complicated, terrifying puzzle he was willing to spend a lifetime solving -- this Steve was infinitely more dangerous.

He wasn’t asking for forgiveness. He wasn’t asking for anything. He was just… stating facts. Uncomfortable, insane facts that shifted the ground beneath your feet.

Your voice, when it finally came, was a dry rasp. “You need help.”

A smile touched his lips. “Probably.”

You turned away, unable to hold his gaze any longer. You focused on the BMW, on the job you’d finished, on the mundane reality of a repair invoice. You snatched the keys off the bench and thrust them toward him without looking. “$285.40. Then get out.”

You heard the rustle of fabric as he pulled out his wallet, the soft shuffle of bills being counted. He placed the cash on the counter next to you, his fingers careful not to brush yours.

“Thanks,” he said quietly. Not for the car. You knew what he meant.

Then he was gone. The sound of his engine starting was too smooth, too perfect -- a testament to your skill. You stood rigid, staring at the greasy imprint your fingertip had left on his dark sweater, now slowly fading from view.

The anger was still there, a familiar, comforting furnace in your chest. But it was banked now, smothered under the weight of his confession. Obsessed. The word echoed, disturbing and potent.

As much as you wanted to, you had the sinking, terrifying feeling that simply hating him wasn’t going to be enough to make him disappear this time.

-

Your keys jingled in the lock, alerting Will to the fact that you were home. A weak smile crossed your lips as you heard his footsteps, leaving his room and coming to the kitchen to welcome you home.

Will padded into the kitchen, a comic book dangling from one hand. "Hey," he said, his voice still soft, a permanent reminder of everything he’d been through. His eyes, so much like your mother’s, scanned your face with an empathy that always unnerved you a little. "Long day?"

"You could say that," you mumbled, dropping your keys on the counter with a clatter that felt too loud in the quiet house. You moved to the fridge, more to have something to do than out of any real hunger. "Mom still at work?"

"Late shift," Will confirmed, hovering near the doorway. He was watching you, that quiet observation you’d inherited from Jonathan. "Steve brought me home."

Your hand stilled on the refrigerator door handle. Of course he had. "Yeah?"

"Yep." Will responded. His tone allowed you to realize that he knew the situation between you and the man in question.

You shut the fridge door a little harder than necessary. “Great,” you said, the word flat.

Will bit his lip, his comic book forgotten. “He… he asked the best way to get you to talk. Without yelling.”

The air left your lungs. So it wasn’t just general, creepy interest. It was specific. He’d left the garage, driven your brother home, and immediately asked about your state of mind. The intimacy of it, the concern, felt like a violation.

“What did you tell him?” Your voice was tighter now.

Will shifted his weight, looking down at his sneakers. “I told him… I told him you like it when people are honest. Even if it’s bad honesty. And that you hate small talk. And that you really like the cherry slushies from the Gas-N-Sip.”

You stared at your brother. He’d just given Steve Harrington a tactical manual. Honesty. No small talk. Cherry slushies. Three data points to be used against you. The betrayal was quiet but profound.

“Will,” you said, your voice dangerously calm. “Why would you tell him that?”

He looked up, his eyes wide and earnest. “Because he seemed… lost. And he’s trying. Really trying. And… I don’t know. Maybe if he stops being such an idiot about it, you could at least not hate him so much. It’s exhausting just watching it.”

The blunt truth from your usually gentle brother hit you like a physical blow. It’s exhausting just watching it. You were so busy guarding the fortress, you hadn’t considered how the siege looked to those inside with you.

You turned away, gripping the edge of the counter until your knuckles turned white. The image of Steve, with his “lost” expression, grilling your little brother for tips on how to handle you, was too much. It was pathetic. It was infuriating.

And yet, a tiny, traitorous part of you recognized the strategy. It was smart. Going to the source. Seeking intel. It showed a level of thought and effort that the old Steve Harrington would never have possessed. The old Steve would have just bought you a meaningless gift or tried to flash a smile. Turning back towards him, you rolled your eyes at the younger boy in front of you. Always doing what he could to help. Always meaning well.

"If Steve Harrington shows up here with a slushy and a page of notes on what to say to me, I'm hiding all your D&D figures."

Will cracked a small smile.

"You won't. You always say that."

A comfortable silence filled the room as Will settled into the living room couch next to you, covering himself with his favorite blanket.

"What is it that you kids love about Steve so much anyways?"

The question felt foreign to your lips. Never in your life had you allowed yourself to express any interest in the fluffy-haired rich prick. You wanted to curse yourself for allowing today to change anything.

Will didn't answer right away. He pulled the blanket up to his chin, his gaze fixed on the static-snow of the turned-off TV, as if the answer were written there in the fuzz.

"It's not one thing," he said finally, his voice thoughtful. "It's... a bunch of little things. He always shows up when he says he will. He doesn't treat us like we're dumb kids, even when we're being dumb kids. He listens. Like, really listens. He remembered that Lucas is allergic to peanuts, and he checks candy bags before he hands them out."

You stayed silent, your own fingers tracing a seam in the couch cushion.

"And..." Will hesitated, his voice dropping. "After everything that happened... with me... he never looked at me like I was broken. Or weird. Everyone else does, a little. Even Mike sometimes. But Steve just... he treated me the same. Maybe even tougher, because he knew I could handle it."

You felt a sharp pang in your chest. You'd been so focused on the past Steve had with Jonathan, you hadn't fully considered the present he had with Will. The Steve who had been in the trenches, who had seen the unspeakable and come out the other side trying to be a decent human being. A guardian, not a king.

"He's just... there," Will concluded simply. "Solid. You can count on him. And I think... I think he's lonely. And we're kind of all he's got now."

Lonely. The word landed with a soft, surprising weight. You'd never considered Steve Harrington as lonely. He was supposed to be surrounded by people, by adoration. But the court was gone. Nancy was gone. The easy, shallow life was gone. All he had was a beat-up nail bat, a BMW, and a bunch of nerdy kids who relied on him.

You hummed.

"Lonely? What about.. Nancy? I thought they were a thing."

Will shook his head, burrowing deeper into the blanket. “Not for a while. They broke up after… you know, everything. It wasn't messy. Mike said Nancy didn't even cry. Steve doesn’t really talk about it. Its just another thing to him.”

You absorbed this. The perfect King Steve and Princess Nancy fairytale had shattered. Another casualty of the upside-down chaos. It made sense, in a way. The things they’d seen would either bind people together with unbreakable glue or tear them apart with the sheer weight of it all.

“So he’s just… what? A free agent with a bunch of middle-schoolers as his social circle?” The words came out, but the old edge was gone. Now it just sounded like a genuine, bewildered question.

Will gave a small shrug. “Pretty much. He hangs out with that girl Robin sometimes. She’s cool. But mostly… it’s us. And he doesn’t seem to mind. He acts like it’s the most important job in the world.”

The most important job in the world. The phrase echoed, reshaping the Steve in your mind from a pathetic hanger-on to something else entirely. Someone who had found purpose in the rubble of his old life. It was a kind of strength you understood -- the kind forged in necessity and duty.

"Huh. Different than I would've thought. Not that I cared much." You disguised your shock with disinterest.

Will snorted.

"You spent so long hating him that you didn't even realize what you were hating changed. Even Jonathan doesn't mind him much now."

The observation, delivered with the brutal, unvarnished clarity only a little brother could muster, felt like a bucket of cold water. It doused the last flickering embers of your performative disinterest.

You stared at Will, who was now completely absorbed in his comic again, as if he hadn’t just dropped a truth bomb that shattered the entire foundation of your worldview.

Even Jonathan doesn’t mind him much now.

Jonathan. Your twin. Your gentle, wounded mirror. The primary victim of Steve Harrington’s reign. If he could move past it… what did that make you? You felt like everything was crumbling beneath you -- all of the resentment, the anger, the grudges. The things you'd held on to in an attempt to block of the softness of yourself.

Your eyes welled up. You realized who you needed. Even just for a moment. The person that knew you inside and out. Getting up gently, you walked to Jonathan's room and hesitantly knocked.

The door opened almost immediately, as if he’d been expecting you. Jonathan stood there, camera in hand as usual, his expression shifting from mild curiosity to instant concern when he saw your face. He knew your every micro-expression, the way your jaw tightened when you were angry, the way your eyes shimmered just before you cried.

“Hey,” he said softly, stepping aside to let you in. His room was a familiar sanctuary of developing photographs, band posters, and the faint chemical smell of fixer. “What’s up?”

Without another word, you curled yourself into his chest.

Jonathan didn't hesitate. He wrapped his arms around you, his camera pressing gently into your back. He didn't ask questions. He just held you, his chin resting on the top of your head, the familiar, steady rhythm of his heart a calming metronome against your ear.

You didn't cry. Not fully. But you trembled, the dam of your own stubbornness finally cracking under the weight of Will's observation and your own exhausting solitude. You clung to your brother, the one person who had shared every scar, every silent battle, every moment of defending your tiny, fragile kingdom.

After a long while, when your breathing had evened out, he spoke, his voice a quiet rumble in his chest.

"This is about Steve." He acknowledged.

You released a watery laugh, tears finally spilling over.

"Unfortunately."

Jonathan’s arms tightened around you for a second, a silent acknowledgment of the absurd, painful truth. “Yeah,” he sighed. “Figured.”

He guided you to sit on the edge of his bed, keeping an arm around your shoulders. You wiped your face with the heel of your hand, leaving a faint smudge of grease and tears.

“It’s just… everyone else has moved on,” you whispered, the confession torn from a raw place. “But it feels like betraying you if I do.. And he won't leave me alone. He keeps finding ways to reach me.”

Jonathan nodded slowly, staring at a photograph of a lonely-looking tree on his wall. “He’s hard to ignore when he’s trying that hard,” he said, a hint of dry amusement in his tone. “The guy’s like a golden retriever that got hit by a car but still wants to be your friend.”

The analogy was so unexpectedly accurate it startled another wet laugh from you. “A really annoying, formerly evil golden retriever.”

“With a blowout haircut,” Jonathan added, finally cracking a real smile. It faded as he turned to face you fully. “Listen to me. You moving on, you letting this go… that’s not a betrayal of me. It’s the opposite. It’s you finally letting me be okay. Because I am okay. I’ve made my peace. You holding onto this… it feels like you’re still fighting a battle I’ve already walked away from. It hurts to watch.”

His words were a gentle, precise incision, cutting straight to the heart of your guilt. You weren’t protecting him. He no longer needed it.

“He’s reaching you because you’re the only one still in the ring with him,” Jonathan continued. “Will’s team Steve. Mom’s grateful to him. I’m… neutral territory. But you? You’re the final boss. And he’s weirdly into it.” He made a vague, frustrated gesture. “He’s not going to leave you alone until you either knock him out for good or step out of the ring.”

You sniffed, the options laid bare. Permanent violence or surrender.

“There’s a third option,” Jonathan said, as if reading your mind again. “You stop seeing it as a ring. You stop seeing him as an opponent. You just… see him as Steve. The slightly pathetic, overly persistent guy who got beat up by a girl.”

You leaned back, staring at the water stain on his ceiling. “How?”

“Next time he looks at you, don’t think ‘there’s the guy who broke Jonathan’s camera.’ Think, ‘there’s the guy who keeps Will safe when we can't.’ It’s harder to hate him that way.”

The reframing was a mental sucker-punch. Simple. Brutally effective.

The guy who keeps Will safe.

You’d been so fixated on the past -- the broken camera, the spray-painted lies, the locker shoves -- you’d deliberately blinded yourself to the present. The present where Steve Harrington was the one in the driver’s seat when your little brother needed a ride. The one who had stood between Will and things far worse than high school bullies. The one who, by all accounts, took that job seriously.

Your anger, once a roaring fire, guttered and sank into embers. It wasn't gone, but its fuel had been cut off.

"Yeah," you breathed out, the word carrying the weight of a thousand released tensions. "Okay."

Jonathan nodded, satisfied. "Good. Now, unless you want to help me mix developing chemicals, I need you to vacate. Your emotional crises are bad for the exposure."

You managed a weak smile and shoved yourself off his bed. "You're a real comfort, you know that?"

"The best," he said flatly, already turning back to his trays of chemicals.

You left his room, the hallway feeling different. Lighter. The blueprint of your soul you'd accidentally shown Steve in the garage -- the one built on Lonnie's toolbox and sheer necessity -- had a new line on it now. A line that connected, however tenuously, to him. Not as an enemy, but as a fellow guardian. A terribly flawed, deeply annoying, but undeniably present one.

You walked back into the living room. Will was asleep on the couch, comic book splayed on his chest. You gently pulled the blanket up over his shoulders, your heart doing that familiar, fierce squeeze. The guy who keeps Will safe.

-

You sat on the bench in your bay of the garage, picking at a piece of pizza. You peeled the greasy pepperoni off, tossing it into the garbage behind you, before turning back to the food your stomach felt too unsettled to consume.

The scent of pepperoni and motor oil was a familiar, oddly comforting combination. You were on your lunch break, but your appetite had vanished somewhere between Jonathan's talk and the seismic shift in your own head. You were just going through the motions, peeling toppings off as if fixing the pizza would fix the weird, hollow feeling in your gut.

The familiar, smooth purr of a BMW engine cut through the garage's usual cacophony. You didn't need to look up. You knew the sound, the way it idled, the specific timbre of its door closing.

Footsteps approached, hesitant at first, then more decisive. They stopped at the entrance to your bay. You took a deliberate bite of your now-bare-cheese pizza, chewed slowly, and finally looked up.

Steve Harrington stood there, holding two gas station cups. He looked nervous, his free hand shoved in his pocket, but there was a new determination in his stance, a lack of that cowering deference. He met your gaze head-on.

He walked forward and placed one of the cups on the workbench beside you. Condensation beaded on the red plastic. A cherry slushie.

"Harrington." You acknowledged, now attempting to keep the bitterness out of your tone. It was easier than it had been before. But it felt so odd to you. Your constant objective of icing Steve Harrington out had been stripped bare, so now it only left him.

Now that you had no reason to hate his guts, you were forced to see the appeal in him in the first place.

He was easy on the eyes, as much as you'd previously hated to admit it. His face was handsome in a clean way, chiseled lines with a boyish smile. His hair, which must've taken time, looked effortless. And he smelled good. The scent of an impeccably picked cologne flooded the bay -- not assaulting you, but seeping in quietly. He even dressed well.

You caught yourself staring, scolding yourself with disgust inwardly.

He saw you looking. A faint flush crept up his neck, but he didn't look away. He just stood there, holding his own cup, letting you look. There was no smugness in his expression, just a quiet, hopeful vulnerability that was somehow more disarming than any confident smirk.

"The, uh... the kid said you liked these," he repeated, his voice a little softer this time. "Peace offering. From the Gas-N-Sip."

The simple, honest statement cut through the last of your internal noise. Nothing grand or dramatic. Just a peace offering, sourced from intel provided by your own brother. It was disarmingly straightforward.

You looked from the slushie to his face. The vulnerability was still there, but it was grounded now. This wasn’t the desperate, bloody awe from the alley. This was a conscious choice. He was here, trying, with a cherry-flavored token.

Your fingers curled around the cold cup. “He’s got a big mouth,” you said, but there was no real heat behind it.

A small, genuine smile touched Steve’s lips. “He’s a good kid. Worries about you.”

That did it. The last brick in the wall wobbled. Will, your sweet, observant brother, was worried about you in this stupid standoff. And here was Steve, not just acknowledging it, but showing he’d listened.

You lifted the slushie and took a long pull. The sugar was a shock, the cold a relief. You swallowed and met his eyes. “It’s mediocre.”

The smile on his face widened, transforming it. The boyish charm you’d been reluctantly cataloging became fully, devastatingly operational. “Yeah,” he agreed, his voice warm. “The cherry’s always kinda fake-tasting. But it’s the principle.”

“The principle of bribery?”

“The principle of showing up,” he corrected softly.

You hummed, unwanted warmth spreading through your chest.

"You're not afraid I'll kick your ass? Paint your windshield with slushy?"

The question, laced with a hint of amusement, made his smile turn wry, almost fond. He shook his head, his eyes never leaving yours.

“Nah,” he said, his voice low and sure. “The ass-kicking’s already happened. And it was… informative.” He rubbed his jaw absently, a gesture that was both an acknowledgment of the past and a dismissal of its threat. “And you can paint my windshield if you want. I’ll just bring it back here for you to fix. Seems like a waste of a good slushie, though.”

The logic was circular, stubborn, and utterly Steve. He wasn't afraid because he'd already faced the worst you could do, and he'd not only survived it but somehow decided he liked the view from the floor. And he’d found a way to loop even your potential vandalism back into another interaction with you.

It was maddening. It was also, you realized with a sinking feeling, kind of impressive. The guy had resilience. A stupid, baffling, unkillable resilience. And it was somewhat.. attractive, which was a truth, but also a betrayal to who you'd been since you were in 8th grade.

You took another sip of the mediocre slushie, using the cold to ground yourself. “You’re a real piece of work, Harrington.”

“I’ve been told,” he repeated, but this time there was a lightness to it, a shared acknowledgment of the absurdity. "You kicking the shit out of me in an alley turned into me having a huge crush on you. Anyone else would've pressed charges for assault."

The words hung in the oily air, stark and breathtakingly honest. He’d said ‘obsessed’ before, in the heat of the garage confrontation. But this… ‘huge crush’. It was simpler. More human. More terrifying.

The slushy felt suddenly too cold in your hand. You set it down with a soft clack on the workbench.

“Anyone else wouldn’t have deserved it in the first place,” you replied, your voice quieter than you intended. It wasn’t an excuse. It was just… context. The context he’d finally, fully acknowledged.

He nodded, accepting that too. “True.” He took a half-step closer, the space between you humming with the weight of all the unsaid things. “But it’s not about deserving it. It’s about… what happened after. I looked up from the pavement, saw you standing over me looking like some pissed-off avenging angel, and something in my brain just… clicked. Or broke. Not sure which," He admitted. "Plus, I wondered where all the strength came from. You're tiny and almost knocked me out.”

The observation, delivered with such bewildered admiration, was the final straw. The last vestige of your defensive posture crumbled into dust. An incredulous laugh escaped you, shaking your shoulders.

"Comes from Joyce. She would've handed it to you too if she walked into that alley instead of me."

"Yeah," he said, his voice so quiet it was almost lost in the garage hum. "I believe that. I met her, when Will was... you know. She's... she's badass." He shook his head, a flicker of genuine awe in his eyes. "You come by it honestly, then. The fierceness."

He wasn't just complimenting you. He was acknowledging your lineage, your roots. Seeing the connection between you and your mother not as a weakness, but as a source of power. It was a level of perception you hadn't thought him capable of.

A genuine smile finally formed onto your lips.

"She likes you. Will does too." You admitted.

The admission felt like unlocking a door you’d kept deadbolted for years. It wasn’t about you. It was about them. About the people you loved most giving their stamp of approval to the person you’d dedicated so much energy to despising.

"Will tells me every time he sees me that he has the best sister in the world. And I'm not just being a kiss ass." Steve responded, stuffing his hands in his pockets, a mannerism of his that you'd seen countless times. "You're his world. Literally."

You looked away, suddenly unable to hold his gaze. Your eyes stung. You focused on a greasy smudge on the floor, blinking rapidly. He wasn't trying to flatter you. He was stating a fact he'd observed, a truth he'd been trusted with. You're his world. It was the highest compliment, the heaviest responsibility, and the one thing that could instantly dissolve the last of your icy resolve.

When you finally looked back, your vision was slightly blurred, but your voice was steady. "He's mine too."

Steve nodded, his expression solemn, understanding the weight of that simple exchange. It was a pact acknowledged. He saw the heart of you, the protector, and he respected it. More than that, he was telling you he valued it.

The air between you changed again. The last of the combat zone evaporated. This wasn't a battlefield anymore; it was common ground, hallowed by shared love for a kid who'd been through hell.

"So," Steve said, his voice regaining a bit of its normal cadence, though it was still softer than you'd ever heard it. "I figure if I'm gonna be hanging around... I should probably be on the good side of his world. Seems like a smart play."

Another laugh escaped you. "I wouldn't worry about smart plays anymore. I don't think you've ever made one."

The insult, delivered without malice, with almost fond exasperation, made him laugh.

“You’re probably right,” he admitted, still chuckling. “But hey, I’m here, aren’t I? In your garage. You’re talking to me. You haven’t threatened bodily harm in…” He made a show of checking an invisible watch on his wrist. “...at least ten minutes. I’d call that progress. Maybe my first smart play was just being too stupid to quit.”

He had a point. His strategy -- if it could even be called that -- had been sheer, dogged persistence. A stubborn refusal to be vanquished. And against your fortified walls of anger, it had somehow, miraculously, worked.

You looked at him, this former king, standing in your domain with grease on his designer shoes and hope in his eyes. He was a mess. A beautiful, confusing, resilient mess.

“Just don’t break anything on purpose anymore,” you said, the warning lacking any real threat. It was practically an invitation.

His smile softened, turning sincere. “No sabotage. Scout’s honor.” He took a step backward toward the exit. “I'll see you tomorrow. Maybe with another slushy. Maybe with flowers if I can get Will to tell me which ones you like."

He didn’t wait for a response. He just turned and walked out, leaving you with the echo of his words.

You watched him go, the sound of his BMW fading into the Hawkins afternoon. The bay was quiet again, but the silence was different. It wasn't empty. It was full of the echo of his laugh, the ghost of his cologne, and the terrifying, exhilarating realization that Steve Harrington wasn't just a problem you'd solved or a war you'd ended.

He was a possibility. A messy, complicated, stubbornly present possibility who bought cherry slushies for research and talked to your brother about how to get a chance with you.

You finished your shift in a daze. The world had tipped on its axis, and everything looked new. Grease was just grease. Tools were just tools. But the air felt charged, like the calm before a storm, except this storm smelled like synthetic cherry and expensive aftershave.

When you got home, Will was in the living room, a knowing look on his face. "So?"

"So, what?" you grumbled, hanging up your keys.

"Steve. Did he... you know. Do the thing?"

"What thing?"

"The cherry slushy. The weird stare where he acts like you invented gravity. They're his signature moves."

You stared at your little brother, this suddenly wise, observant creature. "Since when are you an expert on Steve Harrington's signature moves?"

Will shrugged, a mischievous glint in his eye. "I pay attention. He asked about flowers, by the way. I told him you like dandelions because they're weeds and they piss off the neighbors."

A laugh burst out of you, loud and surprised. "You did not."

"I did. He wrote it down. In a little notebook." Will was grinning now, delighted with himself. "He said, 'Weeds. Got it. Makes sense.'"

You stood there, stunned. Steve Harrington was keeping a notebook. About you. And your brother was his chief informant.

The world hadn't just tipped. It had somersaulted.

That night, as you lay in bed, you didn't think about spray paint or broken cameras. You thought about a notebook entry that spoke about your favorite flowers. You thought about shared looks over a slushie, and a truce built on common ground named Will.

The war was over. The peace was strange, and it came with a side of floral research and potential dandelions. And as you drifted to sleep, you realized you weren't just okay with it.

You ended up staying the night because it was late and Eddie was off duty, and Steve just dismissed your idea to get a cab saying “Take my bed and I'll take the sofa…Not having you hailing a taxi at this hour”. As you lay in Steve's black sheets that felt like they were worth more than your rent, in his huge bedroom, you tried to not think about how many girls had lay there too, in his arms, breathing in his air. You shoved the thought away. 

You started your job as well, Steve had sent a massive bouquet on your first day to your desk so naturally everyone thought you were in the throes of young love. It was odd having to tell them that it was just your friend, like that wasn't what he was to you. Your colleagues were kind and warm, your boss, Tim, was understanding and patient while you learned the ropes. You enjoyed the structure to your day, up at 7, out the door shortly after 8 to catch the subway to be in the office for 9. Your office was quite close to Steve's neighbourhood which was a nice feeling. 

Sandy, your co-worker came over to your desk and leaned her hip against it as you typed away. She was quickly becoming your office bestie. 

“So, what are you doing for the 4th? I know you're new in town so I just wanted to let you know a few friends of mine are heading to the beach…you’re welcome to join,” she said while she sipped her coffee.

The gesture warmed your heart and you were so grateful, “That's so kind Sandy thank you, honestly that means a lot as the new kid in town,” you laughed, “But I actually have plans. I'm going to a gig.”

“Oh? That's fun! Who are you seeing? Better yet, who are you going with?” 

Uhhhh kind of the same person.

“Oh I'm going to see Steve Harrington…with my friend from home,” you decided to leave the details hazy. She didn’t need to know you were friends with a rockstar.

Sandy's eyes flew wide open and she moved to stand upright, “You're going to the Steve Harrington gig?! Oh my god I am so jealous! Gosh he is so hot, I think I'd jump the barricade- wait. It sold out months ago- how did you get a ticket?” 

Ah, yes. How did you get a ticket?

“T-Through a friend,” you smiled. 

“Oh I love that song of his, what is it- how does it go- Oh yea, ‘Baby when you're under me I can't focus, oh uh oh, focus baby, wanna be focused on ya bowowow’” she mimed an air guitar as she sang in a lower voice, mimicking Steve.

You were laughing so hard at this point, “Damn Sandy you should start a tribute act”. 

The day came around quicker than expected, Eddie was to pick you up at 7 and give you your backstage pass, Steve was due on stage sometime around 9. You honestly didn't really know what to wear, what to do, or expect. Sure you'd been to plenty of gigs, but you'd never been to MSG, or backstage, or alone. The headlining act was never your best friend. 

You settled on an all black outfit, you thought it was giving ‘rock’ in a way. You did your make up a little heavier and more grungy than normal, you kind of enjoyed playing this role. 

Eddie texted when he was outside so you made your way down the endless flights of stairs in your building, a little difficult in the tall boots that you picked for the occasion. You stepped out into the early evening air before you heard a wolf whistle and your name getting called from across the street, Eddie was hanging out the driver side window with a big smile. .

“Damn girl, you're giving rockstar girlfriend alright,” he added with a laugh. 

You rolled your eyes and crossed the street, “The girlfriend? Munson, I am the rockstar”. 

Eddie laughed, “Oh she's feisty today! You excited to see your pal drive everyone nuts?” 

You settled in the back before fastening your seatbelt, “Yeah, I really am. I’ve known him since before he could even play guitar, or knew what a key change was, so this is going to be kind of crazy for me. I also have no idea what to expect”. 

Eddie grinned as he wove through the traffic, “Expect to have your ears ringing. Both from the volume of the band and the screams of young women. This is a big one. His first in the city since awards’ season”. 

You laughed, “Yeah, I can imagine the crowd will be crazy. Have you seen him perform a lot?”

“Oh god yeah. My band’s opened for him a few times, shit’s wild. Your Stevie always delivers,” Eddie added with a smirk. Eddie had caught on to your nickname for the singer and was relishing in it. The city was rammed with traffic, people dressed up, a constant sea of red, white, and blue. You could hear distant fireworks beyond the onslaught of cheers, singing, and horns honking. 

You arrived at the stage door for MSG, Eddie led you inside like he knew the place well. “Stevie’s gonna be busy by the way, he's quite serious before the shows and will be warming up. Don't take it to heart”. 

“Don't worry, I didn't expect I'd see much of him until after the show,” you replied but honestly your mind was consumed by the endless posters and autographs that lined the hallways. The biggest stars in history had played here, performed, entertained, and now your Steve was among them. The backstage smelled like rubber, plastic, cleaning supplies, and sweat that was baked into the walls. 

“We’ll hang in here until it’s showtime, my bandmates will be here soon,” Eddie opened a door that led to a small, modest dressing room. You played with the zipper on your jacket and made small talk with Eddie, then you heard a violent screech of electric guitar followed by Steve’s voice reverberating through the walls of the building, “1-2-1-2- ah- Fuck Sam I can’t hear shit, 1-2-1-”

You shot up from your seat before Eddie held out a hand, “Relax, it’s just soundcheck. Trust me, you don’t want to see him while he’s doing that”. Eddie ran his ringed fingers through his hair, adjusting his bandana slightly. 

You nodded and sat back down, “Is Steve, like, nice to his crew?” 

Eddie looked at you before he burst out laughing, “Oh sweetheart, of course he is. Fame hasn’t made him an asshole, trust me, he’s just a bit of a stresshead before a show. They all are.” 

You nodded, “Right”. 

Steve’s voice floated through the corridors backstage, he was singing the opening bars of the opening track of his second album. It was one of your favourites. 

Eventually, Eddie’s bandmates appeared, and you were introduced to them one-by-one. Matty, his drummer, Chris, his bass player, Miguel on keys, and then there was Jonny, his guitarist. Jonny was tall, taller than Eddie and Steve, must have been well over 6 foot. He was slender with sharp eyes, cheekbones, and a sharp jaw. He had tattooed arms and a pierced eyebrow. His black hair flopped over his forehead, and he was seemingly eying you while you eyed him. 

“Well, Eddie, you didn’t tell me she was so pretty. Munson told us he’d been driving Steve’s home friend around,” he said with a smirk that was honestly really fucking hot. 

“Oh. I’m-” Eddie cut you off before you gave your name. “Dude, come on. Seriously? Steve’s gonna hand you your ass if you keep this up-”

“Keep what up?” Jonny asked while scratching behind his head casually, “I’m just being friendly,” his eyes met yours and he smirked again. “So what were you saying your name was, sweetheart?”

You laughed softly before telling him your name, he said it was pretty. He asked you about Hawkins, college, and your new life in the city. He watched you intensely the whole time, like he wanted to devour you. The attention was certainly nice, and you weren’t thinking about your brunette friend whose gaze promised less lust but no less desire. 

You could hear the stadium filling. Thousands of footsteps and murmuring voices accumulated in a buzz of activity, you could feel the energy seeping through the walls. 

“Right, let’s get out into the wings, you’ll wanna be there when Stevie makes his entrance,” Eddie slapped his knees before rising to his feet. Miguel, Chris, and Matty all followed suit. 

Jonny held out his arm, “After you, sweetheart”. You smiled and walked ahead, unaware he was checking out your ass. You realised in that moment that he hadn’t called you your name once. 

From the side stage you could see the size of the venue, and just how rammed the place was. You felt your palms sweating and you weren’t even the one performing. Jonny was standing close, and was leaning on his right arm which he planted above your head on a pillar. You were caged in by him, you felt like territory being claimed. His attentions were losing their efficacy. 

The lights dimmed and the crowd grew quiet, whispers and excited squeals echoed around the stadium before it went as quiet as a moonless night. You could hear your heart thundering in your chest. Even Jonny shifted slightly next to you. 

You saw movement across the stage, Steve’s band members emerging from backstage to sidestage. Then you saw Steve.

He was chewing his lip, hand on the neck of his beloved electric guitar. The same one he used to play for you in his childhood bedroom. He wore tight jeans, a black blazer, and a stripey button down that exposed a good amount of chest hair, silver chains and a silver cross. He looked every bit the rockstar he was. He was mesmerising. 

He was still chewing his lip as he looked across the stage before his eyes found you. He burst into a big smile before winking at you. You gave him a shy wave before mouthing “What the fuck?” 

Steve grinned and mouthed back, “I know”. 

His eyes seemed to travel to Jonny beside you, and you swore you saw his smile falter. 

A stage hand gave them a nod and his band members started taking their spots. The crowd started cheering and yelling, then Steve stepped out under the super trooper. The crowd went supernova, screaming, yelling, shouting, you felt every single syllable in your chest. 

You started clapping along with the crowd as Steve approached the mic. 

He looked out across the crowd, and you were struck with just how at home he looked here. He was born for this. No one had ever suited something so much. Steve brought a finger to his lips and the volume ceased, the crowd in the palm of his hand. He took the mic from the stand before shuffling forward slightly and asking the crowd, “Are you ready to rock?” 

Screams erupted to an insane level. Steve then asked again, shouting, “New York, I said are you READY TO ROCK?!” 

The screams were what you imagined happened in the Roman Colosseum 2000 years ago, or maybe during a medieval joust in England. 

Steve smiled before adding, “Let’s do it, then”. 

The 90 minute set list never sagged, dragged, or limped. It was entertainment in its purest and highest form. Steve’s voice soared while his fingers beat out melodies on his guitar. He jumped off piano stools, he writhed on the floor during a solo. His eyes found yours several times, particularly during a song from his first album about the importance of friendship. You blew him a kiss.  

You thought you were dreaming later in the set when he was singing one of the hits from his second album, ‘Pretty Baby’, because he kept making eye contact with you. In the solo when he stepped away from the mic, his hands working furiously on the instrument, his eyes found yours and he wouldn’t look away. He didn’t look away until he had to sing into the mic again, singing the lyrics of the outro, “Pretty baby, I want you, pretty baby, I need you…” and he then locked eyes with you again before whisper-singing the final words of the song, “and I’ll have you”. 

You swallowed hard, what was he playing at? Jonny next to you shifted and crossed his arms, seemingly a bit irritated. He leaned in and whispered by the shell of your ear, “What is the deal with you and Harrington, sweetheart? I don’t think friends look at each other like that…” 

You lifted your chin slightly and pushed your hair back behind your shoulders, “I don’t know what you mean, Jonny. We’re childhood friends.” 

Jonny hummed before choosing to remain silent, his gaze still on you, which you ignored. Honestly, you thought, what gave him the right to question your relationship with Steve? Your best friend. 

You thought an earthquake was wracking the city when Steve’s encore ended, the vibrations and roars from the fans rattled across the stage floor and up your legs, resonating in your chest. Steve threw a wave and a bow, thanking the crowd, his band, and his crew before jogging off towards you. 

He set his guitar down and ran into your arms, ignoring Jonny who was still standing close. 

“Sweetpea, I’m so glad you’re here…” he spoke roughly into your ear as he squeezed you tight. He was hot and sweaty but you didn’t care. He pulled away, hands on your shoulders, “Did you enjoy the show?” He, somehow, seemed nervous. 

You scoffed, “Steve, you’re kidding right? Of course I did, it was insane! You blew the roof off the place, those fans adore you. The extended version of ‘Heaven Sent’? I think I saw a girl pass out!” 

Steve grinned widely, “Yeah, they love that one, but did you love it?” He seemed desperate for your approval in a way he hadn’t been before. 

“Yes, Steve, of course I did,” you patted his chest, his eyes following your hand as you did. 

Steve looked back into your eyes and smiled softly, then his gaze flickered to Jonny, who was still beside you, “Jonny, hey man,” Steve spoke like he was tired. 

“Hey Harrington, good show. Enjoyed it. Enjoyed meeting your friend here even more,” his voice suddenly sickened you. 

Steve didn’t seem to like his tone either, but he remained civil. Steve instead moved in between you and Jonny, throwing an arm around your shoulder as he did before looking back to Jonny, “Yeah, sweetpea is the best”. 

Steve walked you from the side stage area to the dressing rooms backstage, telling you to go find Eddie and wait by the stage door. You found Eddie chatting up some blonde called Chrissy who seemed to work for MSG, the rest of Corroded Coffin seemingly disappeared. Eddie invited Chrissy to a party at an address that you recognised as Steve’s apartment. 

“Eddie? What party?” you asked once Chrissy had excitedly hurried off. 

“Harrington not tell you? Afters are at his. That’s why he’s sent you to come find me so I can drive you guys there.” Eddie replied while he was rolling a cig. 

Steve emerged holding a guitar case and in a plain white t-shirt. “Sorry I took a sec, felt sweaty so decided to change. Let’s go”. 

“Steve, I didn't know there was a party!” You hissed as you followed him to the car.

“Oh shit, meant to say to you Pea, but it’ll be fun I swear,” he added with a smile, “what’s the harm anyway? And don’t tell me you’re not appropriately dressed for a party, you look stunning”. 

Steve opened the car door for you and you hoped he didn’t see you blush. 

The ride to Steve’s was filled with debriefing the show as well as what you’d both been up to the past week. Eddie was chiming in about how much he enjoyed the setlist changes. Steve’s gaze lingered on you more than normal, you were starting to feel hot all over. What was he playing at? 

“So you seemed to be getting along with Jonny?” Steve asked as he looked out the window, feigning indifference.

“He was…nice. A bit intense but okay,” you spoke slowly and carefully. 

Eddie piped up, “Jonny can't resist a pretty girl, just ignore him if he's making you feel weird.” 

Steve huffed a false laugh, “Yeah he's…he's got a rep for it”. 

You just hummed in response, not wanting to breathe more life into the whole Jonny fiasco. 

“Who all is coming to this party?” you ask, hoping to change the subject. 

“Eddie's band mates, my band mates, couple of my friends from the studio and the crew. 20 people tops,” Steve replied while drumming his fingers on his thigh.

—

The party ended up being about 40 people, 10 of whom were girls trying to sleep with Steve. 

Steve was commanding the room, sitting in the middle of his massive couch with three girls on each side of him, rubbing his arms, offering to grab him another beer from the fridge. You sat on a kitchen stool across the room, watching him watch you. He had been staring at you for the better part of 5 minutes, and your nails were biting into your hand in frustration. Why is he staring at you when he's surrounded by a bunch of other girls? 

Eddie was chatting to Chrissy by one of the large windows, you couldn't hear what they were saying. Jonny mercifully wasn't there, but you were not any way at ease. 

You stood and walked towards Steve's room to get away from it all. You made your way as casually as possible, sipping on your glass of wine as you went but you could tell you still looked awkward, uncomfortable, trying to escape.You felt utterly out of place in this crowd, this city, even with Steve. 

His actions tonight were just confusing. The stares, singing those words to you. 

You made it to his room and closed the door behind you, muffling the music and conversation. You slumped against the door and let out a deep sigh before making your way to the large window to stare out at the city. Maybe you shouldn't be in Steve's room, considering he might bring a girl back in here. You didn’t like the thought of that but it seemed like a distinct possibility. 

Maybe fifteen minutes passed of you mindlessly watching the bustle of the city below before you heard the bedroom door open. You turned, expecting someone who mistook it for the bathroom or maybe even Steve with the lucky girl he had picked.

But Steve walked in alone with his head hung low, beer bottle loosely in his hand. He smelled of smoke and himself. 

“Hey Pea,” he smiled sheepishly before he made his way to stand next to you by the window, “What are you doing in here, hmm?” he continued. 

You sighed and looked back to the skyline, “I just needed some quiet I guess. If you need me out of here so you can get lucky just say so it’s no problem”. 

Steve seemed to squint before he said, “I won’t be hooking up tonight. Not interested in any of them out there,” he waved vaguely with his beer bottle towards the door and the noise. “I just wanted to see if you were okay, honestly, I’d rather we just hung out alone. Dunno why I agreed to host…” he took another swig. 

You smiled at that remark, “Yeah, seeing you on that stage tonight was like a homecoming for me, in a strange way. Seeing you so natural, so happy, it made me so fucking proud”. 

Steve shyly laughed and ducked his head.

You continued, “...there are parts of it that I can’t make sense of though. Like the parties, this apartment, the women…” You stared out towards the city again, unable to make eye contact, “As long as you’re happy though, I’m happy. And these strange parts of your new life, I’m sure I can come to see them as natural as well. Normal. You.” 

Steve laughed sarcastically, “Oh Pea, none of this is normal. I…I don’t want those parts of this to be normal,” he waved his hand around the room, “Easy sex, big apartments, disguises…it’s got no soul. I like soul. But I am happy in a way, I’m happiest when I’m on stage. And when I’m with you…so tonight was pretty fucking special”, he was almost whispering to you, confessional. 

You decided to be brave, and ask the question you’d been asking yourself all night, “So…that’s why you were looking at me a lot, huh? Must have been strange having me by the stage”.  

Steve looked into your eyes before speaking so assuredly, so in control, “I was looking at you because yeah, I liked seeing you on stage, because it felt right…the opposite of strange, actually,” he swallowed before continuing, like he was unsure if he should, “...but I’ve been looking at you…looking at you differently since you came to the city. I think you know that.” 

“Yeah,” you whispered, “I do”. 

Steve leaned in and kissed you. You were startled but melted immediately. What started out tentatively quickly turned hungry. Steve wrapped his arms around you, the cold glass of his beer bottle touched the small of your back making you gasp into his mouth. Your hands were in his hair, down his arms. His nose bumped into yours as he moved to deepen the kiss, he sucked on your top lip as you scratched the nape of his neck.

He broke away, gasping, staring into your eyes before he walked across the room and turned the lock in the door. He set his beer on the bedside table, eyes never leaving yours. 

“Is this a bad idea?” he asked while he slowly approached you. 

You replied, “I don’t care” before your lips met his. 

You knew this could end really badly, but as you each shed your clothes you decided to shove rationale to the side, deal with it tomorrow. When he unclasped your bra and kissed your neck, you didn’t think about what he said about not being ready for anything since Nancy. As you unbuckled his belt you ignored his comments about wanting to be the bad boy. When he dipped his head between your thighs and made you cry out you didn’t think about the Instagram starlet wanting to meet him in London. As he slid inside you, forehead to forehead, panting and writhing and whispering praise in each other's arms, you forgot that he said he wanted to be free. 

You lay in his arms afterwards, sweaty and satisfied. Steve was snoring softly into the crook of your neck while you stared at the ceiling. The party had long dispersed, total silence engulfed the apartment apart from the thump of your heartbeat in your ears and Steve's breath.

You couldn’t take this back, not even if you wanted to.