hello

summary: after Steve's disappearance on the final crawl, you're still recovering from the thought of losing him, even days after his return. (comforty/fluffy/angsty incoming)

word count: 2.5k

notes: this is kind of different to what I've done before, I have been coming back to this for months and just not liking it, so i wanted to finish it before I changed my mind AGAIN. I think I'm going to do a pt 2 to this, as I have a nice little idea for it. <3 masterlist is here if you fancy a gander at my other things!!

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Every movement from you this evening has been robotic. Making a cup of tea as you stare into the mug as the milk swirls into the liquid. Sorting out a few chores, like mindlessly vaccuming the hallways and sorting out the pile of shoes that seems to grow by your porch door. Now, you're finally sitting down to watch a movie, the first time you've done something remotely normal in the last few days. You have a feeling Steve only suggested this so it was just that, trying to get back to a sliver of normality.

Now, even on the sofa, as the opening credits start to roll, you're feeling anything but relaxed and Steve can tell. He reads it in the way you curl up in the corner of the sofa, the way your feet rub together and your hands are hidden between your thighs. It seems the feelings from the last few days have done anything but subside.

-

A few days ago, Steve returned from the final crawl crawl. This time, everything that could've gone wrong, went wrong, only you had no idea. The whole time, you were sitting by the walkie, with only your heartbeat thrumming in your ear to fill the silence. Usually, you got a signal that they had successfully arrived, then another signal when they were on their way back. This time, there was nothing. Not even a crackle of static. Your eyes burned holes into the clock as each minute achingly passed. Gradually, those minutes turned to hours, then those hours turned into a full day. A full day of nothing. Time lost all concept whilst they were away on that crawl.

You hadn't eaten, hadn't slept, hadn't been able to function, thinking that Steve and everyone else was gone. Just like that, without as much as a goodbye through the walkie. When you think about it, you hadn't even cried. Your body was just numb, numb to the possibility that Steve could be gone.

Late into the night, when your walkie eventually crackled to life, your empty stomach lurched and you winced as your chest tightened with shock. Brokenly, Dustin's voice came through. "(y/n)?"

Your fingers flew to the side button, "Dustin, yes I'm here. I'm right here." You realised how scratchy your voice came out, considering you hadn't spoken to anyone the whole time since they'd been gone.

A crack of static came through before Dustin spoke the words to make your heartbeat race, "We're coming home."

When Steve eventually arrived home, it was like he'd been gone for weeks. He looked so different. His hair mangled, his clothes covered in dirt, blood and other possible bodily fluids. His knuckles had cuts over them where blood had dried and darkened in the cracks of skin. He looked painful and you felt pain manifest itself within you just looking at him.

The pair of you didn't even speak a word to each other, you just took him in your arms when he appeared in the doorway, not squeezing too hard for fear he would break, and led him into the house.

-

Now, the pair of you have been sitting in the silence since the movie finished, the slow sound of the rise and fall of his breathing bringing you a marginal piece of comfort. During the movie, neither of you spoke. You usually pass jokes between one another about a plot hole or a questionable outfit worn by the main character, but tonight there was nothing. You could not recall a single part of the plot. Your mind was elsewhere. Little do you know, Steve found himself in a similar predicament, only he spent the time worried about you. Never do you usually stay this quiet throughout a film, he kept leaning over to check on you, if you fall asleep, he usually likes to carry you through to your bed so you're more comfortable.

Steve weighs up his options, he could potentially piss you off by asking or not ask and feel bad about not showing that he cares, that's the last thing he wants you to think. So, before rising from the couch, he places a hand gently on your leg from where he's sitting beside you. You were so far into your own thoughts that the subtle gesture startles you slightly, and he feels the muscles in your leg twitch with alarm. "Hey.." He starts gently and you quickly glance at his hand on your leg and then to him, "you good?"

Stiffly, you nod. You've never cried in front of Steve before and the thought of it fills you with dread. Being vulnerable with someone only got you hurt the last time, and you vouched to yourself that you would do everything in your power to keep these things to yourself. But there's something deep within you that is taunting you, the feeling of selfishness. You weren't the one on the crawl. You weren't the one who had to rescue dozens of kids. You weren't the one who nearly witnessed the death of your friends. You weren't the one who has had years of trauma and hell. You cannot let Steve see this.

"Of course! I'm fine." You flash him a very insincere smile, one you hope he will not decode, but of course he does. He knows you too well.

His eyes roam your face, trying to make out anything from your stare. Your eyes look tired and sad, when usually they're so bright and full of life. His reflect the same, and it breaks your heart to see it. He leans back against the sofa, keeping his hand firmly planted on your leg. He's not angry, he's not annoyed, he's just being patient. You keep your gaze fixed on him and want to cry just looking at him. He looks so concerned for you, so gentle and patient.

"Okay, as long as you're sure." He almost whispers it and gives you a small smile, which you return meekly. "You tired? Wanna head to bed?" He moves towards you and lifts himself from the sofa, you're still snuggled into the other corner as your eyes get heavy. A nod is all you can muster, so you shuffle yourself to a better position where he can slot one arm under your knees and one behind your back to lift you from the sofa. When you're secure, you place your hands around his neck and rest your chin on his shoulder, gently tracing your fingertips across his shoulder blades. Never again will you take his touch for granted.

When he reaches the bedroom, he places you down and you head into the bathroom to get ready for bed. Again, you move around robotically. Just moving through your routine in silence as Steve joins you to brush his teeth. Whilst brushing together, you lock eyes in the mirror before moving in to lean on his side, his arm hooking around your shoulders and giving you a slight squeeze.

An hour later, when you thought you'd be soundly sleeping, you're lying fully awake. Eyes fully adjusted to the light so that you can make out every line of paint on your ceiling. You know Steve is awake too, his breathing is not as heavy as it is when he's sleeping and he just turned over on his side to face you a little while ago.

"Hey, are you awake?" You whisper into the darkness as you turn to face Steve, placing your hand under your cheek to rest on. He drags himself towards you in the dark and places a hand on your arm, giving it a gentle squeeze. He takes a deep inhale, holds it for a few seconds then draws it out. "I'm sorry for waking you." You start, even though you suspect he's not yet fallen asleep.

"You didn't," he confirms, "I couldn't sleep." His hand is still resting on your arm, and he starts to scratch his fingers gently across your skin, causing goosepimples to rise.

With the comfort of the dark room and not having to look him in the eyes whilst you say this, you start to speak. "I thought you were dead."

Even in the darkness, you can almost see his facial expression, pained, tightly shut eyes and downturned lips. He's been beating himself up at the pain he has caused you over the last few days, on top of everything else that happened.

"I thought I was never going to see you again." You continue, shuffling slightly away from him and turning on your back. Staring up at the blank ceiling, "Those few days, I kept imagining what it would be like for the rest of my life, never seeing you again, never hearing your voice again, never shopping for groceries again, just never doing shitty little mundane things together again." At this point, your voice wobbles but you will yourself to continue. "I felt mad at you. Angry that you felt like this was your responsibility, that you and the guys had to do this. That human beings could suck this much that literal children were defending our town from..." here you stop as you consider the possibility of what might have been, had the group not been successful on that fateful crawl. You let out a deep breath, "But most of all I just hated the thought of you not coming back to me."

"(y/n).." Steve starts and you feel him inching closer, but you sit up and put the light on that sits on your bedside cabinet. Looking him directly in the face whilst he does the same to you. He takes a few seconds, drinking in your facial features that he thought he would never see again. Whilst he was there, in the upside down, all that played through his mind in those moments was how your lips curl up in a smile when you think something funny. How the skin creases ever so slightly in between your brows when you're confused, or he's teased you and you're trying not to bite. He thought of the feeling of your skin against his, the nights together that you wouldn't have anymore and how he was going to leave you, all alone, without a goodbye. He hated himself in that moment and has struggled to shift that feeling since coming home.

"I just couldn't believe there was a possibility that I was going to lose you." At this, the floodgates open. Your voice gets smaller, your throat feeling like it's constricting as tears well in your eyes and eventually drip over your lashes, blotting the sheets. You dip your head, your hair hanging around you as your shoulders heave, sobs tumbling out of you like you'd been unplugged. Steve doesn't say anything but sits up and takes you in his arms, clutching you to him so tight. In moments like this, actions heal more than words. Still, your sobs continue and you feel embarrassed. Embarrassed that it's you crying, and not Steve. "I- I just-" you start but cannot continue due to another sob escaping from you.

"Shh," he starts, bringing his hand to the back of your neck and giving it a small squeeze, he knows that brings you comfort, "Not yet. Just let it out, I'm here. We can talk soon, but I'm here."

Those words, those few simple words. Yet another violent sob wracks through your body and Steve almost keels over with guilt, feeling that he's done this to you. "But you weren't!" It comes out as a choked, horse scream. The loudness contrasting harshly to the previous quiet of the bedroom. "You almost weren't here, Steve!!" He holds you to him tighter, his stomach sinking horrifically. How could he have done this to you? “You were going to leave me! All alone, you were going to leave me. I thought you were dead!.”

After minutes have passed, and he feels the sobs have lessened, he moves his hand from your neck to your cheek. He can still feel the wetness from your eyes on his fingertips. Bringing his other hand up to the other side, he holds your head out in front of him, close enough that you can feel each other's breath. "(y/n), there will never, and I mean never, be a time where I won't feel guilty for what I put you through for the last few days. I need you to know there wasn't a single minute that went by that I didn't think of you. I am so, so sorry. The fact I've caused you this much pain, I'm just so sorry." Now, it's his turn. His eyes glass over, his lip trembles slightly he bites down hard in the hopes of stopping it. Failing to keep the tears from falling, you bring your hands up to cup his own face, your thumbs gently sweeping underneath his perfect eyelashes to catch the tears before they track down his cheeks.

"I don't want you to apologise. I don't want you to feel guilty, I'm sorry for making you feel like that." A beat of a pause, "I just couldn't bear the thought of losing you."

He can't respond, his shoulders shake ever so slightly as a sob silently ripples through him. At that moment, your hearts simultaneously break but come together stronger than ever before. In that moment, your strength as a couple intensifies.

After a few more minutes of just holding each other, you've slowly shifted so that he's sitting up, propped up against a pillow, and you're resting on his chest, tracing your fingers up and down against his side.

"I love you so much." Steve whispers into your hair as he leans down to kiss your head. "I'm so fucking glad that it's over." So many things he wants to say, but he still just feels so drained, so tired. He just wants to lay down with you, close his eyes and drift into a sound sleep where hopefully the horrors of the last few months will, for once, stay away from him in his dreams.

“Even the fact that you’re here with me now, just seems so surreal still.” You sniffle slightly, your voice sounding stuffy as your nose is blocked from crying. “We will have to rewatch that film, I don’t know about you, but I wasn’t concentrating on anything.” A small laugh huffs from you, the first one, it feels, in ages.

He laughs back and rubs your arm tenderly, “Oh, absolutely.”

Conversation does not come, and that’s okay. You both lie there for what seems like hours but will only have been fifteen minutes or so. The feeling of being together is so precious, yet so fragile, that only people who have been so close to losing each other will appreciate it.

A wince tightens Steve’s mouth as you dab a cool compress onto his split lip, dabbing it slightly to wipe away the smudged, slowly drying blood from his chin. 

“I’m sorry, sweetie.” You lighten your pressure at his obvious discomfort, the music radiating through the closed wooden door, voices increasing as people pass by out in the hallway. The closeness to Steve accentuates just how drunk he is, the smell of beer permeating from him as he takes in deep, painful breaths. You throw the rag of bloodied tissue down the toilet and grab another and he takes your hand in his as you bring it back up to his chin. 

Instantly, your eyes lock and they are in a haze of tranquillity induced by alcohol. “This is what you get for starting on assholes like Chris.” Your thumb traces ever so softly beneath the split in his lip. 

“You didn’t see the way he was looking at you, (y/n).” His voice slurs and his words string into what seem like one long utterance. 

An eye roll comes from you in response, “Steve, he looks at everyone like that. He was not worth this.” You gesture to his split lip and your eyebrows furrow scornfully. Steve stays sat on the bathroom counter, you’re placed between his legs as you carefully look over his lip. “He hit you anywhere else?” Carefully, you tilt his chin at different angles to check over his face to see if there are any blossoming bruises forming. As far as you can see, the neat split down his bottom lip is the only cause for concern. “Jesus, it’s a wonder he didn’t knock any of your teeth out.”

He huffs impatiently, tired of being your patient now. “Oh, pfft. Like he could’ve knocked out my teeth.” He grumbles and holds your waist in his hands, steadying himself almost. Your eyebrows raise ever so slightly in a silent disagreement with him, and he clocks the slight movement. “Hey.” He grumbles. His movements open the split again slightly and a bead of blood blooms from within. He winces and wipes his lip with the back of his hand, smearing blood across his cheek. Instinctively, you take your thumb up and gently rub it away. Once the blood has cleared, you keep your hand on his cheek, your thumb tracing gently underneath his eye. After a few seconds, his eyes flutter closed and he leans his head into your hand, putting his weight there. As one hand holds his head, your other hand comes to the other side of his face where you brush back a few loose strands of hair. 

“I think it’s time to go, don’t you think?” You whisper, placing the most delicate kiss you could muster on his lip, feeling the cut brush against your lips. You feel his head nod in your hands and you place your other hand against his cheek, so you now have his head in between your hands. As gently as possible, you bring his head up to its normal position, so he’s not leaning on your hand anymore. “You’re gonna have to help me out here, Harrington. I can’t carry you home.” A huff of a laugh escapes you and his eyes open slightly, his vision has clouded over and he could just fall asleep right here, being cradled by your hands. When you’re confident he’s supporting his head again, you bring your hands away and place them on his thighs. His eyes are fully open now, watching your every move. 

“I’m so lucky.” He whispers, his hand coming behind your neck and giving it a gentle squeeze. You shake your head slightly and look at him intently. Even with a split lip he’s still the most beautiful person you’ve ever had the pleasure of laying eyes on. 

Like before, you move in and place a kiss on his lips. This time, he tries to kiss you back but quickly pulls away with a wince, more blood blooming. “Son of a bitch.” His hand flies up to cover his split again and his eyes shut tight, obviously in pain. 

summary: reader spends the night at Nancy’s after a party and gets an uexpected guest at bedtime... no warnings as such in this one :)

word count: 2.3k

notes: yikes it’s been a while, this has been in my drafts for TIIIIIME. Anyway, enjoy :) here’s the link to my masterlist if you’re interested !

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“You take the spare room, (y/n).” Nancy chirps in her deliriously drunken state as she flings open the Wheeler’s spare room. You’re met with a double bed, neatly made with plush pillows and a crochet throw to decorate. It looks sweet, and happily undisturbed, unlike the rest of the house following the party, which you’ve already promised to help clear away in the morning. 

Nancy swiftly places a small kiss on your cheek before turning on her heels, “Sleep well, no snoring, I’m only down the hall!” With a roll of your eyes, you saunter down the hall to the bathroom where you flick the light on and close the door softly. 

In the bathroom, you place your overnight bag on the counter and fish around for your toothbrush. Upon finding it, with a yawn, you twist the lid from your toothpaste and place a sloppy dot of mint infused gel to the head and start to brush. As you’re brushing, you tune into the sounds of people calming down for the night in the rest of the house. Doors closing, slow footsteps tracing back and forth in the hall and up and down the stairs, hushed voices and drunken giggles permeate the house and you smile. Still, you’re left wondering about someone in particular. Someone who seemed to disappear part way through the night, much to your sheer disappointment. You’re pondering where Steve went. He was supposed to be staying too, but you did see him chatting to Paige, so you figure he’s left with her. Before the thought could get too overwhelming and add a downer to your otherwise fun evening, you spit into the sink and get yourself ready for bed. 

After you change into your pyjamas, you unlock the bathroom door and head back across to the spare room, closing the door softly behind you. The sheets are cool against your warmed skin as you pull them back and get comfortable before knocking the light off and shuffling further down into the bed. Within minutes, you feel yourself on the edge of a sound slumber, slowly drifting into a dreamlike state as your head swims as the effects of the alcohol wear off. You’re unaware of how much time has passed before you’re abruptly snapped back into consciousness. The bed dips and you hear a heavy sigh from next to you, someone’s made their way in here... As soon as your brain registers this, you quickly gasp loudly and shoot up, sitting bolt upright searching around for the lamp on the bedside table. As your fingers fumble around under the lampshade for the small switch, you feel the weight shuffle around again, paired with the ruffle of the duvet as it’s thrown back, as the person stands up from the bed. 

Click. 

The room is bathed in light as your eyes squint at the sudden brightness, a harsh contrast from the darkness that previously cloaked the room. You turn to the side of the bed and then your eyes meet the figure stood next to it, a palm covering their eyes from the sudden brightness.

“Steve?! What the hell are you doing?! You almost gave me a heart attack.” You harshly whisper at him as he stands squinting back at you.

“Shit, I’m sorry!” He whispers back, “I didn’t realise anyone was in here. All the couches are taken, and I didn’t know where else to go.” His hand rakes through his hair as he shifts from foot to foot. 

An irritable huff escapes your lips, “I thought you left with Paige?” Your intonation pitches to make it sound like a question, and Steve’s features soften. 

With a shake of his head, he runs his fingers over his mouth, “God no.” He’s still whispering, “I thought you left too, I was trying to find you.” 

He was? He was... hm. Interesting. “Well you’ve found me, and woken me up.” You laugh slightly at the harsh whispers the pair of you are passing back and forth. Slyly, you catch Steve’s eyes wander down your front at your pyjama top before back up to meet your eyes and you could swear there’s a tinge of pink decorating his cheeks. 

“I’m just gonna...” He starts, taking the two unused pillows from the bed and placing them on the floor, starting to lie down. 

“Wait Steve,” you start, realising he’s willing to sleep on the floor. Although the pair of you have been friends for a while and have on nights like this shared some drunken feelings with one another, it’s a thing that just keeps getting passed over as time goes on. But now, knowing he’s going to sleep on the floor, you feel a rush of warmth and confidence fill you. “You can’t sleep on the floor.” You state simply. 

His head pops up over the side of the bed as you pull the comforter closer to you. “Why not? You’ll want that nice big bed to yourself. I’ll be fine here.” He shrugs.

You answer by simply pulling the comforter back on the other side of the bed. “Come on, get in so I can turn the damn light off and go back to sleep.” 

“You sure you’re okay with sharing a bed?” 

“Yes!” Your harsh whispers return as your tired impatience builds and he quickly stands up, places the pillows back and stands still, as if someone has an invisible iron grip on him. “Steve, c’mon.” You tut as he maintains eye contact and you watch as his chest rises and falls quickly. “I get you’re being respectful, but you don’t need to do that,” you say as you turn back to the light and knock the switch off before sliding back down in the bed and getting comfortable. You hear him drop his jacket onto the floor and slide out of his jeans before pulling back the comforter and letting himself sink down into the mattress. 

The pair of you lie in silence for a few minutes, and judging by Steve’s now steady breathing, you’re assuming he’s fallen asleep. But for you, the opposite. The feeling of impending sleep that was flooding your body moments ago has gone and you feel hypersensitive to every noise that your ears register. With a small huff, you turn over onto your back and cross your arms over your chest atop the covers. 

“You good?” His voice startles you through the dark and you turn your head slightly, trying to make out his position in the bed next to you. 

“Can’t sleep.” Your voice comes out tired and impatient, you’re already recognising how tired and cranky you’ll be tomorrow because of your lack of sleep. 

Before too long, you feel the bed shift again and Steve’s weight comes slightly closer as you still lie on your back. “Did you have a good night?” His voice remains calm and quiet.

You nod at him through the dark, but then realise he won’t really be able to see your reply. “Yeah, I did. It was fun.” Your head is still turned to face Steve and your eyes are gradually getting used to the dark and his shape is becoming clearer, and it is much closer than before. “Did you?” 

He takes in a deep breath before exhaling, “Sort of.” His apparent drunkenness he entered the room with seems to have settled.

“Sort of?” You question before turning onto your side to face him, the arm you’re lying on bends upwards to come under your pillow, a position you’ve always found comfortable since being younger. 

“Yeah, I guess. Don’t get me wrong I did have a good time. I just wish I’d spent a bit more time with someone.” 

In the darkness, your eyebrows furrow, “Really? Who was it?” You are completely ignorant to his hints, and he loves that about you.

“She just looked amazing.” He starts and your stomach drops a little, disappointed that he’s going to spend the time now describing someone else to you. “I kept looking over at her laughing and joking around with her friends.” He stops and takes a deep inhale; your body feels heavy at the thought of him admiring someone from afar. He continues, “She had a beautiful, like orange satin-y dress on,” suddenly your breath hitches and your mouth feels dry. You think of your overnight bag, at the bottom of the bed, with that very dress folded up in. “There’d be times where we’d make eye contact, you know, and I’d just totally freeze and feel like an asshole.” You swallow quietly, trying so hard to make your mouth feel like anything but sandpaper. “Seeing her tonight made me realise that I’ve been wasting my time getting to know the wrong people. When really, she’s been right in front of me all along.” You daren’t breathe in case you miss what he’s saying, you almost can’t believe it. In your mind, doubts unfurl like mist curling along the edge of a lake, but all you can do is listen for more. “I think I’ve always just been scared that she doesn’t feel the same, you know?”  

Silence. Nobody says anything else, and he’s so worried that he’s just fucked it up. Surely you’ve realised he’s speaking about you, or so he hopes you’ve realised. “...Steve,” you start, surely this is all too good to be true? “She does.” 

“Hm?” He replies quicker than you expected.

You clear your throat as a signal of finality almost, “She does feel the same, idiot.” A giggle punctuates the end of your sentence like a period and your cheeks flush. 

In the darkness, his figure is still indistinguishable, but the bed shifts to let you know he’s moving closer. Only a slight outline is visible and your heart picks up speed dramatically, throbbing in your chest. Gently, you lift your hand up and bump into Steve’s arm, making you realise he’s much closer than you thought. With a deep breath, you slowly move your hand up his arm, tracing your fingernails lightly over his bare arm before you reach the end of his t-shirt sleeve. At his shoulder, you move your hand along, gliding across his collarbone that peeks out from the neck of his shirt before you finally place your fingers at the base of his neck. Ever so slightly, you can feel the slight of his pulse beating underneath the tips of your fingers as they gently rest on his neck. With one final, wilful urge, your hand moves up to rest on his cheek, your thumb swiping across it, hoping that you’re not about to poke him in the eye. Your own skin is now covered with goosebumps that have risen in anticipation of the proximity you both now share. Whilst your hand made your way to its current position, you felt yourself shift even closer to him. Underneath the cover, his hand confidently finds your waist and he tightens his grip, pulling you close to finally close the gap between you both. His hand glides down to the side of your thigh where he pulls your leg up to rest over his hip, once it’s resting comfortably, he traces his hand over places he could only have ever dreamed of touching. Your heart now hammers wildly in your chest and your skin feels like it’s on fire from his touch. 

“You’re so beautiful.” He whispers, his breath lightly fanning over your lips, again reminding you just how close you both are.

Your fingers trail down to the collar of his shirt where you give it a soft pull, inching him agonisingly closer. “You can’t even see me.” Teasingly, you brush your lips against his and you feel his grip tighten on your hips, he hadn’t expected you to feel the same, but he is absolutely not complaining. 

“I don’t need to see you to know.” And before you know it, his hand leaves your hips and comes up to hold your jaw, his thumb placing itself right underneath your bottom lip, pulling it down slightly before you feel his lips on yours. You both lose yourselves within each other as he kisses you slowly, meaningfully, like months of pent-up emotions are seeping through his kiss and you feel as if you’re melting into him, his grip staying strong on your jaw. 

In synchronisation, your lips move together effortlessly, and you feel at ease together, like it’s the most natural thing to have happened between the pair of you. After what felt like an eternity, but was no longer than half a minute, you slowly pull away from one another. His thumb grazes over your chin and you tip your chin into his hand, enjoying the feeling of support that he’s offering you. 

“Wear that dress again for me sometime, hm?” His voice is low, raspy with the fog of worn off alcohol and lust. 

summary: this is part two to the imagine where reader comes into family video and strikes up a bit of a mutually pining relationship with Steve.. (click here for part 1!) In part 2, they have their long awaited cosy, fluffy movie date with some confessions and confidence from the reader towards the end... I hope this is okay! Thanks for all the lush comments on the first part :) (trying this again because it didn’t show anywhere??)

word count: 3k

warnings: none that I can think of! maybe the odd swear word (this has been in my drafts for ages.. I kept going back and editing it but idk lol)

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As soon as the phone hit the stand, your heart has been in your mouth and your stomach is fizzing. Thoughts float lazily around your head like loose clouds on a clear day, slipping in and out of your stream of consciousness. Steve will be here soon, in your house, in your space, enjoying your company.

Quickly, realising just how imminent his arrival may be, you whip into your back room where your mom is sitting, flicking through a knitting magazine with her latest work sprawled over her legs. “Mom!” You shout accidentally, your energy not matching her own calmness, “sorry.” You add quickly realising you’ve just broken her silence. “I um- I have a friend coming over, he’ll be here in like twenty minutes.”

Her eyebrows raise slightly, and she dips her head forward, looking at you over the rim of her thick glasses, “He?”

You think for a minute that she’s going to turn around and deny Steve coming over, your heart sinks and you curse yourself silently. “Yeah, he’s really nice. We met at the video store.”

“Oh, is he the one who ordered you that film you like?” She replies as a smile dresses her lips. Thank God, she’s smiling.

“Yes!” You’re an open book with your parents, so you don’t want to stop now, “he actually left his number in the box...” your cheeks tinge a light shade of pink at the confession, and with how giddy it makes you feel. “So, I called and asked if he wanted to come and watch it with me.”

Her lips turn up in satisfaction, “Sounds good, sweetie.” She nods gently at you before turning back to flicking her page over, “Will you bring him in to say hello?” You nod eagerly, smiling broadly at her before swiftly turning and making a dash for the stairs to get yourself ready.

Fifteen minutes later, you’re smoothing the rest of yourself down whilst looking around your room one final time to make sure nothing looks too out of place, you light a candle on your dresser and knock off your main light, leaving the place basked in a dim, relaxing glow. Suddenly, a violent rush of thoughts enters your mind and you stand, staring fixedly at a spot on your carpet before you’re snapped out of it by the sound of your moms voice.

“Here’s company!” She calls out from downstairs and your stomach lurches. Oh god... You regret telling her now, you’re afraid she’s going to be too overbearing.

“Mom!” You call on your way down the stairs, skipping some which makes your heart skip faster, “you must promise me that you will not be too much.”

She feigns a look of offence before sloping back through to the back room, “Okay, okay.” Holding her hands up behind her, she disappears back into what you refer to as her knitting cave.

Almost immediately after you reach the front porch, the headlights that were illuminating the space are shut off and you wait in anticipation for the opening and closing of the car door. It’s softer than you expect and to an untrained ear it would’ve gone amiss. Before you know it, knuckles tap softly on the exterior of the door and you go over to let him in. As the door brushes back, you get a waft of the cool night air along with a fresh wave of his aftershave. Impulsively, you take a deep breath in to fill your lungs with the scent that would make people weak at the knees. “Hey.” You speak softly. Intensely, your eyes lock onto one another and your stare burns deep into each other unlike any time before.

“Hey stranger.” He replies and your knuckles turn white as you grip the door frame harder, unsure of how much time has passed, you quickly avert your gaze and step out of the way of the doorway.

“I’m so sorry, please, come in.” Like a distinguished host, you step aside and guide him in with the outstretch of your arm as if you were the host of a Victorian dinner party. Great start.

He steps into your porch and starts to slide off his shoes, gently placing them next to where your own rest on the hardwood floor. Maybe he feels awkward, or maybe he regrets coming already? To break the silence, that Steve was finding quite familiar and vaguely comforting, you speak up, “Do you want a drink or anything?”

He straightens himself up and his hair flops gently at the change in direction, “No, thank you. I’m all good.”

After a pleasant meeting with your mom, who very much seemed to enjoy his company too, you turn to head upstairs, and he places a hand on the small of your back as you walk up the stairs ahead of him. The sudden contact brings forth a deep crimson to settle on your cheeks, and you’re grateful that you’re facing away from him.

Now, as you arrive in your room, you gently close the door behind him and watch as he takes in your cosy surroundings. “Well, I think you passed the test with my mom.” You watch in awe as he goes straight to your bed and sinks into the pillows, making himself feel comfortable as he adjusts them to his liking. It’s actions like this that you realise puts the two of you miles apart. He’s used to this, you think, of course he’s done this before, making himself comfortable in someone else’s house and spending time with them. You daren’t let on this is the first time in someone else’s company.

He lets out a small laugh as you retrieve the tape from the box, smiling down at the note that is still nestled in there. “I can see where you get your good looks from.”

You turn to face him with pseudo disgust on your features as you slot the tape into the player with a click as the machine whirrs to life. “Get out.” You scoff as you awkwardly make your way back to your bed, sitting on it but sitting what feels like miles away from him. Inside your chest, your heart hammers wildly and you worry it will be audible to him. Instead of relaxing into it as the film starts, your body remains rigid and all you can think is that Steve is realising just how new to all of this you really are.

As the film plays out on your smaller, crackled television, which you’re hoping Steve isn’t silently judging, he turns to face you. Studying your side profile, his eyes trace your features, stopping to take in every tiny detail as you feel his eyes burning into you, but you daren’t turn to face him. The scene plays out in front of you in a blur, you’re thinking of anything but the movie and you feel a rush of warmth fill out your cheeks. One you’re sure Steve would be able to notice.

Just as you feel the colour dissipating across your face, he leans forward and pauses the movie.

Wrongly so, you assume that he’s going to say he’s had enough and leave. You know this isn’t how his usual meet ups with girls would go... for Christ’s sake you’re sat almost two metres apart from each other on your bed. It hasn’t felt awkward, but now the movie has been paused and the room has fallen into a blanket of silence, you realise how it could seem awkward.

“Is everything okay?” You ask, shuffling your position on the bed so your legs are crossed and you’re facing him now. How foreign it is, to have Steve in your room, sitting so casually on your bed.

He mirrors you and pulls his leg up under himself and turns to face you, making himself comfier in the process. This relaxes you slightly, as his posture is not one of someone readying themselves to leave. “Of course. Sorry, I just wanted five minutes.” He leans his arm against your headboard and lets his temple rest on his knuckles.

“Sure.” You nod, hoping he has something he wants to fill these five minutes up with.

Sure enough, before long he’s clearing his throat and studying your features once more. “That day, at the store,” he starts and your brows furrow, where is this going... “I think it was the second time we chatted, and I called you beautiful.”

Your stomach lurches at the memory and you hear a sudden increase in pitch in your eardrum, almost deafening. Your actions that day still confuse you, how you just walked out soon after, so awkward, so child-like in your reception of the compliment. “I remember, yeah..”

“Did I make you uncomfortable?”

Ah shit. That’s the last thing you wanted him to feel. Now, you just need to find the words to describe how he really made you feel, because uncomfortable is far from it. “Oh my God, no! No. I know, I know I just walked out and left you standing there I know.” You shake your head in disbelief at your own actions but carry on. “I’m sorry. I just honestly have never been called that, by anyone. Never mind someone like you.”

He tilts his head slightly, brows slowly creasing together, “Someone like me?”

“You know,” you hold your hands out and pan them across Steve, “I’m not stupid I used to see you with girls in the store all the time, flirting and laughing with them. I used to think you were just a flirt and nothing else, someone who spoke to all the pretty girls to pass his time at work, but the girls loved it. It’s like they came in just to see you. You could’ve had any one of those girls.”

He waits a while, letting your words float down like a feather falling from the sky before landing softly in the room. Finally, he speaks, “Yeah but it would be fifteen minutes of laughing and cringeworthy flirting that I didn’t even enjoy, then they’d just walk away. I hardly ever get past the first date with anyone.” If this is a date, you’re sure as hell going to do everything in your power to get a second one. “But this has been different. This has felt different.” He admits now, still looking towards you carefully. To your surprise, he continues, “I’ve never waited for someone to walk through the door as I have with you, hell I’ve certainly never watched any Jack Nicholson movies for a girl before.” You both chuckle at this and let a moments silence flutter by you.

“I think they must’ve been mad.” You state.

“Hm?”

“The girls. From the store,” you blink at him expectantly, “to just walk away from you. Not want a second date. I thought about you all the time, you know. Whenever I watched a film, I’d wonder whether you’d seen it, if I thought you’d like it, if we might ever watch it together....” All of this is just tumbling out of you unexpectantly it’s like someone’s pulled a plug.

A warm smiles spreads across his features, reaching his eyes yet again.

Your cheeks flush as you overshare, “I’m sorry, that was a lot.”

“You apologise too much.” He states, rolling his thumbs over one another.

You nod agreeably, “Yeah, I know…” you pause slightly and watch his lip curl up, “…sorry.”

He puffs his cheeks out laughing and moves closer nudging you with his arm. “Idiot.” His amusement slowly drains from his features and he goes serious, which worries you. “You seem shy tonight. I hope I haven’t overstepped a mark.”

Fuck sake, (y/n), you think. Swiftly, you close your eyes and when you open them, he’s looking back at you with contentment, like he’d patiently wait all day for your reply if it meant he could continue your conversation together. “I’m not shy, I just, I don’t know, I feel like this is just so unnatural for me.” Your shoulders hunch up in a shrug as you finish your sentence off and you watch as his brows furrow slightly.

“What do you mean?” he questions.

“Well,” you start, “you being here, spending time with you, having someone take an interest in spending time with me.” Inwardly, you cringe, hearing yourself sounding quite pathetic but what you’re saying is true.

“How is that so hard to believe? That I wanna spend time with you?” His voice is laced with genuine curiosity, like he can see everything you simply can’t.

“It just is for me. Like I said before there are other people out there surely who you could want to spend your time with.”

He looks as if he’s about to start speaking, but then stops, pondering over his words silently, his fingers tracing over each other and your eyes flicker to them, watching intently before snaking your eyes back up to meet his own. “I don’t understand how this is your first-time spending time with someone one to one. I haven’t met anyone like you, ever.” You roll your eyes, yeah yeah, this is probably his rehearsed speech he gives everyone. “No, I’m serious.” Slowly, his hand comes to your own and takes it in his, he pulls your arm gently towards him, straightening your arm out so that you have no choice but to edge in closer, tightening your fingers around his own. Now that you’re closer, closer than ever before, you get to see every little detail up close. “Ever since I saw you in the store, you’re all I’ve thought about. I would wait and every time that damn bell rang, I would hope it was you walking through the door.” His fingers have spread apart so that you can weave your own through, feeling comfortable as they link together, “This feels right to me, (y/n). Being with you, it feels right,” his eyes search your own intensely and you drink in every last word, “I might be overstepping here, and you can tell me if I am, but I don’t want this to just be a one-off thing, I don’t want to just come here tonight and then never have anything to do with you again.”

Almost as if his touch, albeit only on your hands, is melting you, your posture softens and for the first time tonight you feel relaxed, “Neither do I.” you say, your voice small and almost whispered.

Now that you’re closer to each other, your breathing feels like it synchronises together and you lean in comfortably against your headboard, your hands still locked into one another. With a sigh, you intensely search his features, holding his eye contact for much longer than ever before. He notices this, and holds it right back, admiring your eyes up close and taking a mental image of how the colours swirl and pool together before your pupils. “You’ve got me feeling some type of way, (y/n).” Steve admits smugly, a smirk gradually creeping up on his lips. You lift one eyebrow at his confession, enjoying his admission of feelings. Now, your eyes move down to his lips, and he notices your shift in gaze. Suddenly, a feeling of overwhelming embarrassment floods your body, and you move your head back abruptly, shocked at your proximity.

“Hey.” He says softly, bringing his fingers to your chin to gently manoeuvre your gaze back to him. “What’s worrying you?”

The fact he can tell; that he can read you so well shocks you; he seems to know you and understand you more than you think. “I just don’t wanna get hurt.” After your admission, your eyes land on each other once more. This time, his thumb grazes over your cheek gently and the gesture warms your heart.

“I’m not gonna hurt you. I promise.” He waits a minute, simply gliding his thumb absentmindedly over your cheek whilst the clock ticks calmly in the background, signifying the passing of time but neither of you seem to care. “I know we don’t know each other all that well yet, but I really wanna get to know you and learn about you, and I know this seems like a sweeping statement for two people who haven’t spent a whole lot of time together yet, but whatever worries or whatever hesitations that you have about me, I wanna prove them wrong.” It’s as if you’re made of butter and in that moment his words are the heat needed to melt you into a puddle on the floor. You feel pathetic for feeling like this over Steve, but God damn...

“I would like that very much. Thank you.”

“What for?”

“Just all this,” you gesture back to the TV where the movie is still sat paused then gesture back towards him, “just being here with me.”

He laughs slightly and you’re now aware of his thumb still grazing over your cheek, “You never have to thank me for that. It’s an absolute pleasure.”

Without giving it a second thought, you place your hand on his chest as you lean in and close the gap between the two of you, placing your lips onto his softly. He doesn’t seem the slightest alarmed as he leans into your lips, deepening the kiss. It’s as if he’s been waiting for this too as his hand now cups the side of your face. He’s very aware that this is most likely your first kiss, and he keeps it soft, gentle, and slow paced. Albeit you initiated it, which he admits to himself has turned him on ever so slightly, he keeps it tame, as much as he doesn’t want to.

As you pull away, he can’t hide the smile that’s painting his face, “I’m sorry I didn’t ask for permission.” Your cheeks are tinged with a slight blush at the excitement of the whole situation.

summary: an exes to lovers imagine in where Steve broke up with the reader over his own worries and has left the reader heartbroken and confused, but of course, where there’s a will, there’s a way...

word count: 2.6k

warnings: just a couple of swears

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Summer was slowly drawing to a close, much to your despair, and the group was ready to disband for the evening. As the countdown for back to school begins, your evenings end quicker as people head home to prepare for the school rush starting again. 

You watch as Max and Dustin fold away the camping chairs you’ve all been sitting on, “God this is depressing.” You sigh heavily, willing the night to etch out just that little while longer.

“Please don’t even mention what I think you’re going to, or I will swing you in that pool.” Lucas chips in, getting the hint that school may be snaking its way into the conversation. In defence, you hold your hands up and start to slowly get up from the camping chair, pulling the blanket from your legs and folding it up neatly. 

In this moment, you reflect on the summer you’ve had. It’s not been a great one. At the beginning of the summer, yours and Steve’s relationship crumbled away from underneath you so fast you felt you were falling fast towards a hole that you couldn’t recover from. In short, the Steve you knew at the beginning of the summer was not the Steve you had spent the last year and a half with. He was distant, he was cold, he wasn’t willing to make plans and, in all honesty, you weren’t actually shocked when he asked to call it quits. You’d assumed there was someone else, as is usually the case, so you completely cut ties with each other.  

Much to the group’s surprise, the pair of you kept coming to the group gatherings, and slowly over the summer started to show signs of your friendship thawing out from the hard layer of ice that had covered it at the start of summer. 

It started off as him offering you a lift home, with others, in the car. Then, as the curtain has started to go down on summer, he’s asking you if you want a lift on your own. He’s offering you drinks when you’re all out and he even bought you a meal at the diner last week. 

Now, as the group shuffles around quietly packing the chairs and blankets away, you catch his eyes over the dying fire. Quickly, as if embarrassed to be seen, he averts his gaze to the bag he’s covering the folded chair with. You sling the chair over your shoulder and move to the shed in Mike’s yard to put it away, but you feel a soft graze of skin move over your knuckles and you turn around. Behind you, Steve’s waiting. “Need a hand?” He offers.

summary: reader is becoming a regular customer at the family video and steve is always keen to help her out. some pining fluffy strangers to lovers which i thought of driving home from work lol. I might make a part two to this, just because I left it quite open.... I loved writing this, it took me a while I kept coming back and adding to it. enjoy :) 

word count: 5.3k

warnings: some mild swearing, nothing else :) 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The bell atop the door cheers light-heartedly as you walk into Family Video. You absentmindedly drove here on your way home from work, wanting a familiar, comforting distraction from the sluggish day you had. Every fibre of your being just wants to go home, slot a tape into your crackly television and get lost in the fictional world of cinema. 

You live for films. You laugh, cry, and get transported into the storyline so deeply that for the days afterwards you’re convinced you physically lived it. 

So now as you breeze through the door, your qualms of the day seem to dissipate with every step you take. Slowly, you snake through the small aisles, stopping every so often at a film you haven’t taken out yet. Carefully, like it’s an ancient relic, turning the box over in your hand, studying the case, looking carefully at the actors and actresses and reading the blurb. 

Down the next aisle, you stop and pick up Stand by Me, a film you’ve watched and rented multiple times, but always come back to. Your comfort film if you will. You’re about to move off onto the next aisle to study the new arrivals but are stopped in your tracks. 

“That’s a really good choice,” Steve starts, leaning against the shelves of tapes with his arms crossed over. 

You tap the box against your hand nervously, you’d seen him working before when you were in, always either sweeping or rearranging the same shelf of tapes, but you’ve never been served by him. He seems sweet, sort of careless, but sweet all the same. His hair always falls back into place after he’s drawn his hand through it roughly and his arms flex as he pushes the broom back and forth. Not that you’d noticed... 

“Uh, yeah,” you reply, taken aback by the sudden conversation, “I mean, I’ve seen it a bunch of times but... just keep coming back to it.” The tapping against your palm slows as you see his eyes search your features, a sudden blush peppering your cheeks under his gaze. You’re realising now just how attractive he really is, and you find yourself becoming shy, almost nervous, in his presence. This isn’t how you pictured your movie shopping to go, you wanted to come in, grab some movies, and head home. 

He clears his throat and points his thumb in the direction of another aisle, “Can I make some suggestions? Show you what’s popular?” He’s trying to be helpful, trying to be accommodating to you as a customer, but you’ve seen this act before with other girls in the store. Internally, you battle with yourself between just taking Stand by Me and leaving or entertaining the idea of some harmless conversation with... hang on. Your eyes trail to his name badge. Ah, Steve. Harmless conversation with Steve. 

Eventually, after what you hope wasn’t too large of a pause, you nod, “Sure.” 

You arrive at another section of video tapes and your eyes immediately go to the black VHS tape box facing forward with a small white ghost peeking through a red do not enter sign. He sees you looking at the cover and he picks it up, turning it over in his hands. “This is awesome. Have you seen it? It’s three dudes in New York City fighting off these weird ghouls with machines and they have to fight them off before they end up taking over the city.” 

“Ghostbusters? Yeah, I’m sure everyone’s seen that.” You say with a slight laugh, finding it cute how he explained the premise of Ghostbusters, one of the biggest films from the previous few years.

He nods his head quickly before placing it back on the shelf, “Oh yeah, totally. Totally. It was a really-” He places it back so hastily that it knocks a couple other boxes onto the floor. He bends down swiftly and picks them all up before you can offer to help. “-Really popular movie. Yeah.” 

“But hey, what’s the harm in watching it again?” Taking Ghostbusters from his hands, you look to the remaining boxes he has, and your eyes fall upon a case you’ve not seen before. “Is this one new?” You enquire, pointing to The Manhattan Project that’s nestled in Steve’s hands. He flips it over and studies the title for a second. 

“Uh, yeah. Yeah, this one’s pretty new,” he looks back at you and you’re looking back at him, waiting to see if he has anything else to say. “I haven’t seen it, though,” he adds, almost disappointingly, like he feels he’s shutting you out by not wowing you with any cinematic knowledge of new arrivals. “But, I mean, hey, cover’s cool,” he holds it out to you to have a look and you smile at him, taking the box and studying the blurb, actors and such. 

Your lips turn down and you raise your eyebrows, “Yeah guess it’ll do. I’ll try it.” 

“Oh, oh yeah. Sure. Yeah.” What the fuck, Steve? He thinks to himself. Is he now constricted to one syllable words? So far, he feels this encounter has been disastrous. After mansplaining one of the bestselling movies of ‘84, to knocking tapes from the shelf, to sputtering out single words. What’s happening to the smooth, flirtatious Steve that usually comes out in the presence of a pretty girl? But you’re not just pretty. You’re beautiful, and effortlessly so, almost intimidatingly so. Oh, come on Steve. It’s been ten minutes. 

Whilst Steve cleans up the shelf, you can’t help but smile at how flustered he seems. It’s cute. You like it. Once his hands are empty, he doesn’t know what to do with them, so he commits to crossing his arms back over his chest again. “So...” You start, looking around at the few remaining aisles you haven’t ventured to yet. “Got anymore top grossing films to recommend that I will have most definitely seen?” 

He smiles down at you, tightening his arms and shaking his head. “You’re not gonna let me live that down, are you?” His voice is playful, and you return his smile. You have him in the palm of your hand, you just don’t realise it. 

“We’ll see.” You walk back past him now, towards the counter. The tiredness from the day flooding through your body like a strong current and you realise it’s time to head home. “I’ll just take these for today.” 

You place the two on the counter and Steve puts them through the system for you. “Can I take your name? Just for the account,” he points at the screen, fingers ready to type in your name.

You give him your name and it etches into his brain. One he will certainly not forget. He makes a mental note to come back onto the system later and have a look through your recent rentals. That way, next time you come in, he won’t make an ass of himself with recommending films you’ve already seen. Or is that too weird?

“Oh, can I just ask?” You start your question as he places the two movies on the countertop before you, placing his hands on either side of them. His eyebrows raise in anticipation of your question. “Do you know if you’ll be getting Terms of Endearment in? I look for it every time I come in and I can never find it.” 

Steve’s facial expression allows you to see the cogs whirring in his mind as he tries to work out what Terms of Endearment is. “Uh, I can’t say I’ve seen it. Is it a particular favourite of yours?”

“I love Jack Nicholson, I’d watch any film he’s in, but I would love to re-watch that one in particular. There was just something about it, you know?” 

“Jack Nicholson...” He ponders the name for a moment, and you watch as he clicks his fingers as the name comes to him. “Oh!!” He exclaims. “Here’s Johnny?” A real lightbulb moment. 

“Yes!” You beam, although that was also a very popular film, you’re not judging his, clearly limited, film knowledge. 

“Uh, so to answer your question about the movie, I’m not sure. But I can definitely check it out for you,” his voice is confident and has grown slightly louder now that you’re back at the desk. 

You nod back at him, grateful, whether his words mean anything, you’re unsure. But you can only hope. “Awesome. Well, alright,” You pause a moment, flicking to his name badge to make sure you remember his name correctly, although you’re kidding yourself because how could you forget it, “thank you for all your help, Steve.” 

He waves a hand slowly at you as you turn to leave the store, turning round coyly as you exit the door and giving him a small, but noticeable, smile. After you’ve left the store feels unnaturally quiet, he stares at the space you were stood in for a few minutes, mulling over your exchange. 

“Pick your jaw up off the floor, Harrington.” Robin jeers from the door of the back office where she’s been sat shuffling return forms into organised piles. 

Steve quickly changes his posture and walks to the office, leaning his frame against the door and puffing his cheeks out. “She was quite something.” His eyes are fixated on one spot on the floor, replaying your conversation in his head. 

“She was in last week,” Robin admits, trailing her pencil over a form ensuring it’s been filled out correctly, but her face sours meaning some obvious piece of information has been missed out.

“She was?” Steve retorts.

Robin looks up, her face still soured from the dodgy form, “Uh, yeah. She has a pretty memorable face.” 

Steve’s eyebrows raise, “Same time last week?” 

“What? Why are you asking that?” She huffs and places her fingers on her forehead, gently massaging it. “Please don’t turn into creepy stalker Steve now. She seems nice, not like those other air heads you usually go for. Plus, she seems to know her shit about movies. Unlike you, dingus.” 

Steve looks offended for a glimmer of a second before softening his features, knowing Robin made a very valid point, about the girls, and the movies. He quickly thinks to change the subject before being personally attacked any further by his co-worker, and closest friend. “Hey, do you know anything about the film ‘Terms of Endowment?’” He questions sincerely, and confidently.

Robin stares at him in awe, what have you done to him? “Firstly, I think you mean ‘Endearment’,” Robin takes in Steve’s defiant features, he will be adamant he had the name right, but Robin’s doing him a favour and correcting it for him before he messes it up in front of you. “And secondly, no we do not, nor have we ever, had that for rental.” 

“How do we get it?” He retorts, brushing off his poor memory for the name of the film. 

She shrugs impatiently, tired of being roped into Steve’s romantic tropes that always end in a ghosting. But there is a steady glimmer of hope in Robin for this one. “I don’t know, get in touch with head office or something.” Before the conversation can go any further, she returns to her forms and Steve whirls out to the phone, dialling the number for head office and requesting one copy of the film to be delivered to the Family Video.                                                           

                                                            ✦ ✦ ✦

Steve would be lying if he said he wasn’t on edge every time the doorbell jingled as a new customer entered. Wherever he was in the store, he would look over eagerly to check if it was you. But much to his dismay, you hadn’t been back for over a week. A couple of times, when he clocked on for his shift, he would check the records on the computer to see if you had returned the three films whilst he hadn’t been working, but they still showed as out for rental, meaning you hadn’t returned, and he hadn’t missed you. He’s kind of hoping you wait it out a few more days though, as the copy of your movie still hasn’t arrived. After some pathetic begging and pleading with head office, they agreed to send a copy out to the Hawkins store when Steve had convinced them it would absolutely get rented. 

It’s a cold, October evening and the weather is atrocious. All day there had been steady ribbons of rain cascading from the sky and painting the pavement in a slick sheen. Steve and Robin sit as a couple of shoppers aimlessly float the aisles, munching on a bag of chips behind the counter. “Reckon we could close early?” Robin probes, hoping Steve will say yes, she eyes the keys in the pot underneath the counter. 

Steve’s still holding out hope he will see you today, so, reluctantly, he refuses. 

“Come on!” Robin whines, shoving another handful of broken chips into her mouth. “It’s a Friday night, almost Halloween, surely there’s better things we can be doing with our time.” Robin says through a mouthful of dry chips, yet to be chewed, and Steve looks over at her with slight feigned disgust. 

“Be my guest and go, but I don’t fancy getting another warning letter from head office about us closing up early,” Steve holds his hands up in protest.

“Steve, that was one time,” Robin retorts, her embarrassment at the memory showing on her cheeks in a light pink flush.

“You closed the shop four hours early because Vickie was practising band at-” He stops mid-sentence as a figure appears in the doorway and the familiar jingle of the bell rings out. The sound of the rain pummelling the sidewalk enters the quiet ambience of the shop as you step through the door, removing your sodden hood when you’re in the warmth. As you turn around, you’re met with welcoming smiles from Robin and Steve. You return the gesture, trying to supress the butterflies erupting into a wild storm in your stomach, and elope into the familiar comfort of the aisles before you. 

“Go on then, jackass,” Robin whispers, folding away the rest of the chips. 

“No, not straight away. I’ll look too keen,” he hisses as he rummages around loose papers to make himself look remotely busy, Robin’s face is a picture of bewilderment as she shakes her head and sets off for the back office. 

Fifteen minutes pass and Steve still hasn’t wandered over to you. He can see you, stealing glances over the top of the stands as you aimlessly look for another film. But it’s like someone has cemented his feet to the carpeted floor, he just doesn’t move. 

You’re hoping that he’s just busy, that he wants to come over and chat with you again, but he’s staying put behind the desk and a disappointment nestles itself deep in the pit of your stomach you know it’ll be hard to shift. After reasoning with yourself for another five minutes, you make your way over to the counter and place the tapes for return on the top, letting him meander over to you from where he was resting by the computer. His heart sinks as he realises, he’s left it too late and now you’ll be leaving soon. 

“Hey! Good to see you again,” he smiles broadly at you, not letting his internal beatings show on his beaming face. The first thing he notices however, is your shiny eyelids, caressed with deep, dark eyelashes that beautifully darken your lustrous eyes. He wonders if you’re made up for someone else, maybe for a date. Shake it off Steve and get on with it. 

You push the tapes towards him and return his hello, “Just returning these.” 

He peers at the tape you’re holding to your chest, “Poltergeist 2, huh?” He questions as he taps the return details into the computer with satisfying clicks. “You uh...” he taps the spacebar a couple of times before turning his head back to look at you, “you watching that alone or..?” His question trails off as he kicks himself for asking such an intrusive question. 

Your brows knit together at his question, “Yeah, I mean, it’s almost Halloween so. I figured I’d watch something spooky.” Drumming a beat, your nails tap against the countertop almost impatiently, unbeknownst to you having just skipped over the biggest hint ever. 

He purses his lips and nods tightly before turning back and reaching for the VHS tape you still hold close to your chest. “Oh, sorry,” you mumble as you pass him the tape. As you do so, your fingertips briefly linger over one another and your eyes meet instantaneously, your cheeks warming under his gaze before you avert your eyes elsewhere. The sounds of him tapping away at the keyboard fill the air shortly after and it fills the silence. 

“I see why you like Jack Nicholson so much,” he starts, “rented a couple over the last week and I gotta say, he’s a pretty awesome dude.”

A slight laugh escapes your lips as you take the Poltergeist 2 from him and place it in your bag. “Right?!” Your words seep with enthusiasm and his heart gradually quickens as he hears the sing-song fill your voice. A warmth fills you like a whistling kettle at the thought of him going out of his way to watch movies with your favourite actor. Or, you could just be reaching here, and it doesn’t mean anything. “He’s just, so enthralling, you know? Anything he does I enjoy.” 

He ponders this for a moment as his fingers glide over his chin repeatedly, “I wasn’t a fan of Missouri Breaks, but was a big fan of The Postman Always Rings Twice.” 

Your eyebrows slowly sneak up at Steve, “Because of Jessica Lange?”

Slightly, his head quirks to one side and, innocently, he says, “Who?”

“Never mind.” You dismiss the comment with a wave of your hand and tap the counter, ready to announce your departure.

He stretches his arm, rubbing the back of his head so his bicep flexes slightly and you have to use all your willpower not to stare at the muscles contracting so effortlessly under his skin. “You uh-” he starts, “you look nice.” He rests his hand now on the counter, close to your own. “Well, you looked nice the other week, I just mean tonight you look better than usual.” His eyes widen quickly, and he shoots his hands forward in defence. “Not that you didn’t look nice! I just mean tonight you look... tonight you look beautiful.” 

You genuinely don’t know what to say. As cliche as it sounds, you’ve never been called beautiful by anyone before. Well, yeah, your grandma often peppers you with kisses and calls you her ‘beautiful ray of sunshine’, but not anyone like Steve. For a moment, you’re overwhelmed by the feeling you almost feel nervous, like you just want to get out of the situation. Not because you don’t appreciate the compliment, but because you’ve never been in this situation before and just genuinely don’t know how to act. In your chest, your heart hammers wildly and you fear it will leap out onto the counter between the pair of you. An intense heat pools across your cheeks, one which is entirely noticeable, and Steve immediately worries he’s overstepped some unspoken boundary between the two of you. 

Before you wish to make it anymore awkward by your utter incompetence to receive compliments, you push back from the counter, smile awkwardly, and turn to leave. “Have a nice night, Steve,” is all you can muster before you reach the door to leave. 

After you’ve left, the cemented feeling returns, and he does not shift from his spot behind the counter. Alone with his thoughts, he realised he must’ve said something to upset you, because the look on your face was like he’d just shared some deep, disgusting secret with you. But it was just a compliment? One that, albeit they are disingenuous, the girls love. But this one he meant it, this one he wanted to see the bashful look seep over your features, but it was quite the opposite. 

                                                          ✦ ✦ ✦ 

Steve’s pen hovers over the scrap of paper, he’s been staring at it for five minutes mulling over the right note to write for you. Your copy of Terms of Endearment arrived the other day and he’s itching to give it to you. He resumes his familiar position by the cash register, waiting for your familiar figure to come through the door and grace the shop with your presence. But there’s been a deep pit of anxiety forming in his stomach as his worries grow that he colossally fucked up the last time you were in. 

After a few more minutes of mulling it over, he finally decides to write his number on the paper and underneath, written in his scrawl: 

‘Because I know you’ll ask, yes. Yes, I did cry. Great recommendation. - Steve x’

He cringes slightly at himself, but then shrugs the thought off and pops open the case for the tape, lying the note on the top before snapping it back shut and placing it underneath the counter, ready for when you come back in. 

A few days later, he misses the door opening and it’s you who approaches first. He’s stood with his back to you, sorting tapes and making notes on his clipboard on stock. Over the last week, you’ve been building yourself up to going in and seeing Steve. You kept looking at yourself in the mirror and telling yourself to take Steve’s compliment. Accept it, believe it, and believe he might feel something for you. You even talked to your mom about it, and she was thrilled, you could already see her picking out a wedding hat but you rolled your eyes anytime she asked anything else. 

So, now as you walk over to him you tap him on the shoulder lightly and he turns, face solemn until he realises it’s you. 

“y/n! Hey. It’s good to see you.” He smiles broadly and it reaches his eyes, a real genuine smile. 

You return it sincerely and grip the tapes tighter to your chest, almost as a defence mechanism between the pair of you. “Yes, you too. It’s been a while.” You stand looking up at him, gazing more like, “you been busy?” 

It only occurs to him now that this is really the first time you’ve made any effort to make small talk. “Busy? Uh, yeah. We have been actually; Halloween rush is over so we will probably be getting all the Christmas movies in soon.” 

Your heart swells at the thought of Christmas movies.

“How about you? Get up to anything exciting over Halloween?” He hasn’t seemed to want to break away eye-contact since he laid eyes on you.

You shake your head and hold your arms up a little higher, “Hell no. I’ve come to get my next fix.” 

He laughs slightly and places his clipboard under his arm, “Oh! Sure yeah, come on over and I’ll return those for you.”

You both make your way over to the counter and you place your returns on the top, sliding them along for Steve to process. He scans them swiftly back in and places them in a small pile to be placed back out on the shelves. Unbeknownst to Steve, you watch his hands as they work, flipping the covers open to ensure the tape has been returned, scribbling notes onto the sheet and then typing away onto the computer. 

Once he’s finished his routine for returns, he faces you again with a smirk on his face, like a kid who’s walked into the best candy store around. Your stomach tightens and he clears his throat, “I have something for you.”

The knot in your stomach is pulled painfully tight, your stomach clenches and your heart leaps as he reaches under the counter and pulls out Terms of Endearment, sliding it along the counter for you. Your eyebrows raise with happiness and your eyes grow wide, “How did you- Where-?” You almost can’t believe the store finally has it in, you figured it’d come in on one of their recent deliveries. 

“I rang head office, had to speak to them a couple times, but I asked if they’d send a copy out here.” He looks pleased with himself, and so he should. Nobody has ever done anything like that for you, yes it might have been easy to get a hold of, but still. He slides it further towards you, urging you to take it so you pick it up. As usual, you inspect the box and turn it over gently in your hands. He watches as you do so, seeing the routine so familiar it makes his heart swell. You are so precious. You go to hand it back to him and he frowns.

“For you to scan!” When you see his frown, your expression changes too and you tilt your head slightly.

“It’s yours. I don’t need to scan it, that’s your copy.” He states it matter of factly and instinctively your hand goes over your chest. 

“My copy?” Your head stays tilted like a puppy trying to register a new sound. 

He nods slowly and laughs a puff of air, “Yeah! Your copy. I knew you liked it, loved Jack Nicholson, and couldn’t get it anywhere so... yeah. You can keep it. Yours to enjoy at your leisure.” 

Instinctively, you clench your hands around the box, overwhelmed with gratitude. “Oh Steve... That’s...” Your eyes lock together, and you will this not to be the last time, “that’s the nicest thing anyone has ever done for me.” You pause, “I know it’s not that deep or whatever but yeah that’s just super thoughtful Steve, thank you.” You waggle the tape in between the two of you, eyes still boring into one another and his smile stretches across his face again, lighting up his eyes. 

“I uh, I watched it too. Just to see what the hype was about, you know?” He quickly adds, “Oh and don’t worry, I wound the tape all the way back for you.”

You laugh slightly, “How thoughtful.” Where his hand is resting on the desk, you quickly take it in yours and give it a squeeze, you don’t know what came over you, the sudden rush of confidence, but you’ve finally broken the unspoken barrier between the pair of you. “Seriously Steve,” you start as you place your hand back over the box, “thank you so much.”

His cheeks bare a mild tinge of pink, from the sudden contact earlier, “You’re so welcome.” Realising you haven’t taken out a new film for you to return in future, his eyebrows knit together. “Will I see you again?” 

“Of course you will, I’ll be back soon for my next fix of cinema, and you best have more box office favourites to recommend for me.”

Another laugh escapes his lips and he bows his head slightly, “Damn... Still not letting me live that down?”

You shake your head as you push back from the counter and head back for the door, “Hell no.” You give him a small wave as you reach the exit, “See you soon.” 

He lifts his hand and returns your wave, smiling softly as you disappear back out into the bright daylight. Now, he just has to wait and see if you call...                 

                                                           ✦ ✦ ✦

Later that night, Steve’s phone in his bedroom rings with a metallic shrill and he jumps out of his skin. Lurching forward, he dives at the phone and yanks it from the stand, “Hello?”

On the other end of the phone, you’re taken aback by the utter speed at which he answered, but in a way, it makes your stomach tense in adoration. “Hey, Steve? It’s (y/n), from the video store.”

Although he’s been keeping himself within reach of his phone since he returned from work, he’s kind of surprised you’ve rang. He smiles at the fact you felt you needed to clarify where he knew you from, as if the pure sound of your voice wouldn’t be enough. “Hey.” He starts softly, “I’m glad you called.” 

You sit and wrap the cord so tightly around your fingers you can feel the tip of your finger throb, “Yeah I,” your voice comes out slightly horse, so you quickly clear your throat, “I wanted to straight away, when I saw your note. Which was cute, by the way.” Your cheeks redden at the admission.

“Cute, huh?” He toys back with you, and he crosses his leg over to stop his knee from bouncing wildly with nerves. You’re both a pile of nerves, it’s almost laughable. “So have you watched your new film yet?” 

“No, that’s why I was calling actually I-”

He frowns, assuming the worst, and cuts you off accidentally, “Ah shit is there something wrong with it? Have I fucked the tape up?” 

You pause for a moment, frowning slightly and unravelling the cord before you lose all feeling in your finger, “Oh, no no no. No, not at all. I haven’t actually watched it yet I was wondering if, if maybe you wanted to come and watch it with me?” Silence. He’s stunned that you’ve taken the leap and asked, he was convinced he was going to be the one to ask to make plans. You take his silence as polite rejection, imagining him pondering some lame excuse. “Never mind I knew it was stupid to ask, I’m sorry if I was too forward or whatever I’ve-”

This time he cuts you off before you spiral even more into territory where you simply don’t need to go, “No, hey, hey.” He cuts you off gently, “I would love to.” 

“Really?” Your shock rings through the receiver.

“Really.” He confirms, relaxing back into his chair, suddenly feeling a rush of warmth overcome him. 

You sigh audibly and it ruffles through into Steve’s ear, he smiles gently at just how precious you are. “My mom is in though, don’t worry. I don’t wanna give off the wrong impression.” 

“Hey, (y/n), you could never. Where abouts will I find your humble abode then?” 

A rush of giddiness flies through you and you physically shudder as if a bolt of electricity has just been pulsed through your spine. You relay your address to Steve, giving him some minor directions around town and he hums in recognition. He recognised the street name as the one behind Mike’s, so at least he already knows where to go, sort of. 

“I’ll leave the porch light on for you?” Your intonation peaks like you’re posing a question. “And I’ll keep an eye out for your car, too.” Because you know from the moment you hang up, you’re going to be sat watching the window in anticipation for him arriving. 

“Awesome, yeah. Awesome,” Here he is, back to repeating singular words. Hey, at least these ones were two syllables. “Am I good to come around now?” 

You nod enthusiastically, “Of course! Yeah, that’s totally fine.” 

Again, he smiles to himself and gets ready to wrap the conversation up so he can see you quicker. “Awesome.” Again? Seriously? “Looking forward to seeing you soon, (y/n).” 

The sound of his voice, confident but caring and gentle, fills your ear and you can’t believe you made the move. Well, technically he made the move by leaving his phone number in the box, but you’ve made the plans. 

summary: a real fluffy imagine after writing angst for the past few, best friends turns to lovers. Reader is teased about their close relationship with Steve by a jocky asshole, so Steve decides to do something about his feelings. both are obviously pining for each other but just don’t know how to do something about it!!

word count: 3.3k

warnings: really cringe asshole male talk about female character (inappropriate sexual remarks) & swearing.

thanks @urfriendlywriter for the friends to lovers confession prompt!!! <3

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Alrighty class, notes for the biological study are on the blackboard, you have the full hour to complete this. I expect everyone to have the practical experiment done, and their write up started by the bell. Am I clear with that?” Mrs Peters stands with her hands on top of her blooming belly, slightly leaning against the desk with her hip. 

The class grumble a response and Mrs Peters smiles, nodding. “I’ll float until my ankles hurt,” She starts, hinting to her swollen pregnancy ankles and gets a murmur of laughter in response, “Off you go!” 

The equipment is already lain out for you and your lab partner, Brad. He stands awfully close to you as you sort through the different brightly coloured flowers scattering your table. You have a feeling you’ll end up doing all the work, with Brad copying everything down in the last ten minutes. 

“Jheez.” Brad whistles under his breath as the class volume raises to the sound of students discussing their impending flower dissections. “Wonder who the lucky bastard is that gets a ride on her.” You turn to face him, your insides screaming with utter disgust, he motions his head to Mrs Peters and slides his eyebrows up and down. 

“You’re disgusting.” You say to the white peony that you’ve set out for your first dissection. Brad hears, and just laughs to you. He takes that as a joke, as a compliment, and it disgusts you even more. “Can you start to take the petals off those,” your eyes flit to the five other flowers laid out in a neat, colourful row, “and make notes on their type of pollination?” A tinge of annoyance already lacing your voice.

“Their type’ah what now?” He sits picking the petals off roughly, not following any of Mrs Peters prior instructions, and that fills you with rage. As someone who excels in school and wants to do well, your lab partner pairing feels like someone, somewhere, wants to torture you. You realise that it’s going to be easier, and less painful, if you just do it. Just crack on with the lab practical and let Brad sit there and sniff the pretty petals. “Can you get high on this stuff?” He says, his nose dotted with a tiny bit of pollen from where he dug it into the centre of the flower.

You widen your eyes and nod enthusiastically, “High as a kite.” You confirm, sarcastically, and his eyes glow back at you. Jesus...

Time passes and you’re in your element, investigating stigmas and anthers up close under the microscope, adding to your quick diagrams of each part with brief, but helpful, notes. Ones that Brad will no doubt copy from in due course. He’s sitting, like an impatient child, folding and tearing the petals he picked off earlier. The only time he’s made an effort so far is when Mrs Peters made her rounds and he came to stand by you and ‘make notes’ on your observations, only to sit back down again and scribble in the margin of his notebook when she slunk back away.

“Harrington shown you a good time yet, huh?” Brad’s voice breaks the silence between the two of you and your cheeks flush a deep red as you squint through the lens of the microscope. A thick glob of saliva forms under your tongue which you swiftly swallow back. “Come on, we’re in biology... can we not discuss things like that?” 

You lift your head from the lens and look at him. His face is expectant, expectant of your response, hoping for a bite back, and he calmly crosses his arms over his chest. Your cheeks are still firing up, your vision goes slightly blurry for a short while as white-hot anger burns up inside you. After glaring at him for some time, you return to your position at the microscope.

Before you could realise, he’s bumping your arm with his and leaning down to speak to you, not even the beautifully intricate flower beneath you is giving you any sanity. “If he’s too much of a pussy to do it, let me show you what a good time is really like.” He’s so close you can feel his breath warm your ear and send shivers down your spine, feeling like it’s hitting every vertebrate on the way down. 

“Steve and I are just friends.” The more uninterested you seem, the more likely he is to give up on his pursuit and just shut the fuck up. Or so you’re hoping. 

He scoffs, “Pfft.” His tongue creeps from his mouth and licks his bottom lip, “Friends with benefits? C’mon. I ain’t stupid.” He goes quiet then you feel a soft tickle forming down your spine, Brad’s finger. Then, his breath back in your ear, “Bet he doesn’t know your sweet spots.” 

You shoot back from Brad, holding your hands up, like you’ve been scolded with a hot iron, “Okay. That’s it.” You charge from your station down to the front where Mrs Peters sits, grading papers. “Mrs Peters.” You say, quietly now that you’re down here, not wanting anyone to hear your conversation. In your hands, your fingers tremble slightly with the adrenaline of the conversation you just had. “I would like to request a change of lab partner.” Your voice comes out strong and confident but your face paints a different picture. “Please.”

Mrs Peters looks behind you, at your now half empty desk, and to Brad who sits and moves stems and petals around the table into a phallic shape. He grabs the attention of the pair in front, who seem displeased at the childish distraction. She raises her brows in his direction, when he meets her glare, his cheeks flush a light pink, and he rearranges the flowers into the muddle they were before. 

“Say no more, sweet pea.” She says with an exasperated sigh, shuffling papers to pull out her seating plan. You look over as she pulls a pencil from her pot and pats her lip with the eraser. “Eleanor’s in need of a partner.” She says, tracing over the spare seat on her plan, “That sound good?” Mrs Peter’s kind eyes meet your own and she offers you a sincere smile. 

“That would be great.” Your heart leaps with relief. 

“Finish up there for today, you can move on Monday. He can stay with me.” As you make your way back to your desk, Mrs Peters calls out from hers. “Brad Norton.” The class falls silent, her usual sing-song voice has turned cold, stern. “I don’t recall asking you to make penises with your pretty little flowers. You can stay and do your lab work, tho-rough-ly,” she sounds out each syllable in the word, the veins in her neck protruding with distaste at her student, “with me in detention.” 

The classroom remains quiet as you find your seat and complete your notes. “Bitch.” Is muttered venomously from next to you and you’re unsure if it’s directed at you or Mrs Peters, but you’re past caring. 

                                                          ✦ ✦ ✦

On Friday nights, you and Steve like to walk from school to the diner which flickers welcomingly in the dark winter light as you approach. As usual, you take to your table which is located in the corner of the diner. It is cosy. You love coming here, especially with Steve. It’s a time that you can spend together, just the two of you, have a burger, have a milkshake, and just catch up on the week. You adore your Friday nights with Steve. 

Now, you’re leaning against the comfy backing of the squishy diner chair, the fabric crinkling awkwardly as you get yourself comfortable. You’ve both cleared your plates, smears of ketchup and dustings of salt lie in remnant of what was two full plates of burgers and fries. Gluttonously, as your stomach feels heavy with the greasy food that you adore, you continue to gulp your milkshake. 

“I heard Brad Norton got a detention today in bio.” Steve finishes dragging his last fry through a dreg of ketchup before placing it into his mouth, laughing at the new conversation topic. You simply roll your eyes and let the milkshake freeze your back teeth before swallowing. 

“He’s an asshole.” You retort, swirling your straw around in the thick, creamy drink. Your eyes stay fixed on the pink substance in your glass, watching the small particles of ice slowly melt the more you stir. “I’ve switched partners, finally. I asked Mrs Peters to move.” 

“Really?” 

You nod, your brows furrowing. “Uh, yeah. I don’t fancy sitting and getting creepy back strokes from him for the rest of the year.” 

Steve sits back against the seat, “He did what?” A surge of jealousy, and anger flits through him and you can see it flash across his eyes, a change so subtle you feel proud you noticed. He knows that would’ve made you uncomfortable and he knows where Brad usually goes on a Friday night, he runs over the possibility of going there and beating the shit out of him, but quickly decides that would be a terrible idea. “Is that what he got his detention for? Being a creep?” 

You laugh slightly, “Close.” You take another gulp of milkshake. “He was making dicks out of the flowers.” You realise you’re talking to your milkshake and not to Steve, he’s noticed too and realises there’s more to this story than you’re letting on. He knows you too well. 

“You sure that’s all he did?” He knows not to push things with you, but the feeling is bubbling up inside of him. 

You toy with the idea for a moment. Tell Steve, let Steve get angry and potentially make your favourite night of the week awkward? Or, don’t tell Steve, enjoy each other’s company and go from there? 

You’ve both been close to sharing your feelings with each other on multiple occasions, sat in this very booth. The diner must have an aura that allows you to become content with your feelings with one another, almost becoming more than friends. The diner is where you’ve shared feelings, ranted about shitty weeks, shitty dates; cried into milkshakes over the clear downfall of Hawkins. But it’s also where you’ve brushed hands as you reach for napkins, letting your fingertips linger a little longer than is necessary. It’s where you’ve held eye contact as you talk about things that interest you, the other listening with intent adoration. His eyes glisten as he listens to you discuss another biological theory that you love talking about with him, his lips curling as he listens intently and marvels at your passion and drive for science. You return the active listening as he discusses the trips to the Upside Down, watch little pieces of him break apart as he cracks open his memories of things he tries so hard to supress, but keep creeping back into his consciousness. 

So, with all that in mind, you decide to tell him. “He quizzed me on whether you show me a good time.” You blurt out, placing your milkshake down and folding your arms onto the table. “said he would show me a good time, said he knew my sweet spots. Basically, he spent the lesson trying to get into my pants.” 

His face is a picture of disgust, his eyebrows furrowing so deep you think they’ll knit together. “I promise you; he is one of a kind.” He holds his hands up in defence, “We are not all sex crazed lunatics who like making people feel uncomfortable.” His features soften and he looks over to you, taking in your features as he likes to here. They look softer in the glow of the luminous light that hangs above their window, the streetlights casting a yellow tinge into the corner where you sit tucked away. “I’m sorry he made you feel like that.” His voice is sincere.

You shake it off with a whip of a hand, “Shall we get out of here?” 

He nods, leaving the money on the table. “Come back to mine? We can watch a movie.” 

As you stand to straighten yourself up, you smile back at him warmly, nodding gently at his offer. 

                                                         ✦ ✦ ✦

Warm waves of air circulate out of the heater placed by your feet as you sit in Steve’s basement on the couch, watching a new film Steve rented out. You haven’t really been paying attention, you’ve been more interested in gradually moving your limbs inch by inch closer to Steve’s, your breath hitching as you feel him doing the same. Soon enough, you’re sat with your arms pressed against one another and your leg is resting comfortably against his. 

“Can’t stop thinking about what that asshole said to you.” His voice sounds weird after not talking for so long, the only sound being the grumbling heater and the soundtrack of the film playing out in front of you.

You rub his arm gently, sighing, “Stop thinking about it Steve, he’s not worth it.” 

“No, I know.” He’s quiet for a while again, the flickers of vibrant colours on the screen lighting up his features and your eyes travel around them all. He feels your eyes on him and leans to pause the TV, the sudden cut of sound making the room feel too quiet. Your breathing slows, waiting for him to start the conversation again. Sheepishly, you slowly pull your hand from his arm, suddenly feeling awkward having left it there for so long. He turns his body so he’s facing you and you scoot back a touch, propping your arm up on the back of the couch and leaning your head against your palm.

“Penny for your thoughts?” You probe delicately, you can tell he has something whirlpooling in his mind. 

He shakes his head, smiling coyly. “Just thinking.” 

“About...” Your hands tumble over one another, hinting for him to go on. 

“You.” His bluntness makes your stomach squeeze tight, as if you’ve just dropped from one of those free-fall rides at the amusement park. His face remains unchanged, his eyes studying yours. “Thinking about you.” 

Slowly, you take a deep breath in. Unaware you were holding it in the first place. “Why me?” Annoyingly, your voice comes out as quiet as the hum of the heater, almost inaudible to someone who wasn’t trained in on the conversation. Suddenly the room feels warm, and you realise this could be the time to have the conversation you’ve been longing to have.

“’Cause I think about you all the time.”

You’d hoped all this time that he does just that.

And he does, he thinks of you when you aren’t there, when he’s lonely, when he feels sad, when he lies awake at night wishing he could turn over and feel the warmth of your skin against this. Wishing he could spend the night with you in a blur of heavy breathing, lustful kisses and soft moans. Wishing he could tell you how much you mean to him afterwards, holding you close whilst you both catch your breath and settle into the sheets in a dream-like state. He’s realising now how close he is to having all of this. To having you. If you want him, that is. 

“I know you feel what I feel.” His voice is low and his hand travels to rest just in between the two of you, like he wanted to commit to holding you but got scared half-way and changed his mind. 

A speckle of heat rests on your cheeks. “What is it that you feel?” Again, your voice is quiet, and you feel the pulse thick and fast, the heat rising up your neck from your chest. 

He clears his throat. “I know we both enjoy the time we spend together, as friends. But I don’t wanna be just friends anymore.” Silence settles over the pair of you, but you know that he’s not done yet, so you wait patiently for him to continue. “You make me feel so comfortable and you always know how to cheer me up, when to give me space, when to distract me from whatever’s going on...”

Hairs on the back of your neck prickle as the tingling sensation of adrenaline courses through your body. He continues, “I hate the fact that even assholes like Brad know there is something between us.” He sighs softly but carries on, “The fact that we haven’t even done as much as discussed how we feel, yet he’s happy to make degrading sexual comments to you about us.” 

You nod along in agreement. “I know.” Suddenly, your whole body feels drawn to him and you slide back along the couch, shuffling down into his side and placing your head in the crook of his neck, resting your arm over his stomach. This feels right, you think to yourself happily. “I love spending time with you, too. I have loved growing close to you these past few months and I-”

He lets his arm fall around your shoulders and he cuts you off, “Wait.” He insists as you feel his other hand come to rest gently against your neck, his thumb resting lightly against your jaw. “Look at me when you say it.” With his hand still resting on your neck, he gradually guides your face up so that it’s inches away from his own. His eyes travelling lazily over your features he’s grown to know so well before locking in with your own. 

Inside your chest, your heart is hammering wildly. Never have you been this close. Never this intimate. “I want to be with you, Steve.” You quietly admit, although it’s not much of a shocker. A smile forms on his lips, which have now moved ever so close to your own. Impatient and running on adrenaline, you close the gap between the pair of you and bring your lips together. His hand stays firmly on your neck, his fingertips gradually gripping the hair at the nape of your neck as your fist grasps his t-shirt as the kiss intensifies. 

The months of longing are finally coming to a head here and now as you are both desperate for each other. Not just in a sexual longing, but an emotional and physical intimacy longing, too. You can feel yourself getting lulled further into the kiss as his tongue searches for your own. 

After a few moments have passed, you both pull away gently, chests slightly heaving as you both work to catch some of your breath back. You rest your forehead against his and brush your nose past his, moving back to give him a small kiss on the corner of his mouth. “What do you say then?” You can see the happiness radiating across his face, the creases by his eyes and the soft pink glow gives it all away. His thumb traces across your cheek, “You wanna give us a shot?” He says.

Nodding, you reflect the same happiness glow that Steven is portraying. “I wanna give us the best shot.” 

Satisfied, he takes his hand back from your face and you feel how hot your cheek has been under his touch. He holds you close to him as he reaches back down to play the movie. A couple minutes later, he clears his throat. “And, if ‘Brad’” He uses air-quotes around his name, “Or any of his asshole friends wanna make any comments to you again, I’ll drop those motherfuckers.” He point blank says as his eyes follow along with the scene playing out in the movie before you.

summary: Steve takes a very drunk reader home from a party. Steve and reader are just friends, but reader is falling in love with Steve.... written the morning after the night before.

warnings: mentions of drinking (unable to recall drinking episode) and hangovers

word count: 1k (very short so is this still an imagine??? too long for a drabble so I’ll just stick with imagine lol)

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A sudden hot flash of pain spreads across your forehead as your eyes peel open, adjusting to the early morning light that floods your room. Your curtains are wide open, and your mouth is like cotton. To clear the dryness, you move your tongue back over the roof of your mouth a few times, forcing saliva around your mouth.

You’d spent last night at party and drank way too much. You’re not a big drinker, at all, but the people you spent last night with weren’t exactly great influencers. So here you are the next morning, having only been awake for 30 seconds, and already feeling painfully sorry for yourself. 

Your body stays cocooned underneath your duvet, you have no idea how you got home or when you got home. With the realisation that you can’t recall any details of the previous night, a hot flush of nausea rushes through you and you have to sit up. However, you sit up way too quickly, and it causes the pounding in your head to intensify. You don’t hear Steve enter your bedroom as you sit with your head in between your fingers, slowly massaging your forehead.

“Oh hey, you’re awake.” His voice is gentle, but you look up with a start, not expecting to see anyone this morning, especially Steve. You dread to think what you look like; you’re most definitely sporting a solid pair of racoon eyes since you highly doubt your makeup was removed.

“Steve?” You look at him quizzically as he carries a fresh glass of water to your bed side with two pills. Do your eyes deceive you or is he really in your room right now? “What, when did you- how-” You point to the glass, then back to Steve, then back to yourself, struggling to form a coherent sentence. He straightens the duvet to make sure your legs aren’t underneath, then plants himself down on the edge of your bed. “How did I get home?” You question dumbfoundedly. You hate feeling like this and vouch to yourself to never let it happen again.

“Robin called me.” He admits, looking slightly sheepish. He’s never seen you like this before, and you feel deeply ashamed. He wasn’t even at the party, that shows how bad you must’ve been. “I came to pick you up, so I brought you home. I didn’t know where any of your stuff was to you know, take off your makeup or anything.” That confirms your racoon eye suspicions. “And I didn’t wanna change your clothes or anything, with the state you were in.” He half laughs, then his face quickly returns sullen and serious. “I hope you don’t mind but I stayed over.” 

“Did we...?” You point to the empty side of the bed and then back to Steve, he’s going to need to fill in all the blanks for you.

At his realisation of what you mean, his eyes go wide, and he shakes his head furiously, “Oh God, no!! No. Absolutely not. I did sleep on the floor though, just at the bottom of your bed.” He sighs heavily and rubs his eyes as he points behind with his thumb, he doesn’t seem to have had much sleep. “I was petrified you’d puke in your sleep, so I wanted to be nearby.” You grimace and your stomach churns at the thought. “You didn’t, though.” He quickly adds, knowing you get anxious about that sort of stuff. 

With the return of your cotton mouth, you reach over and gulp down half the glass of water. The sudden addition of liquid to your stomach makes it lurch and you breathe deeply through the nauseous feeling, massaging your wrists. You close your eyes and breathe in deeper, letting the silence settle over the pair of you like a thick blanket. You still feel him, slightly weighing down the bed, and it comforts you knowing he’s here. 

After a few moments, and your nausea, have passed you open your eyes to see Steve looking over at you. When your eyes suddenly meet, he turns his gaze away, almost embarrassed that he was caught staring. “I’m so sorry.” Your voice is weak and quiet. 

He looks back at you now, brows furrowed, “Hey, what for?” His arm stretches out and he rests his hand where he can feel your leg.

“I probably spoilt your evening, spoilt whatever lovely plans you had for last night.” 

He laughs slightly and shrugs his shoulders, “I didn’t have any plans. Besides, you’re cute when you’re drunk.” 

You feel for a minute you’re still drunk. Cute? He’d never described you as cute. You can’t muster up a witty remark or even attempt to question the word, so you let it slide. “I owe you one, big time.” Leisurely, your mouth pulls into a smile, and you look over at Steve, who gradually pulls his hand back then pats them onto his knees. Feelings of gratitude and admiration fill you as you realise how kind he’d been to you. To bring you home safely, look after you, watch over you... He hardly slept a wink last night. Any stir or noise from you caused him to jump up and come to your side, ensuring you were okay. Which, of course, you were. He’d just tuck you back in and make sure you looked relatively comfortable before returning to his little pile of blankets and pillows on your floor. 

“I’m sure you’ll find a way to repay me.” He smiles back at you warmly, his eyes looking tired and sleepy. 

“I’m gonna shower. I feel gross.” As you start to sit up further, Steve steps up and away from the bed. 

He nods and starts to walk towards your bedroom door, “Do you want breakfast? I can make it for when you’re out of the shower?” He wrings his hands nervously, which he never usually does around you. Maybe it’s a tiredness thing. 

You nod gratefully, “I’d love that.” 

summary: just a shorter imagine about a reader who works at a diner and Steve comes in with the rest of the friendship group (which you’re also part of). There’s a mutual pining between Steve and reader and eventually Steve decides to do something about it, just a lil fluffy imagine which got me going

warnings: brief descriptions of food and eating

word count: 2.5k

notes: shout out to one of my fave SNL skits of Debbie Downer thx for playing a small part in this imagine. if anyone has any ideas for an imagine plsss request i’d be happy to do some requests !! have a great day :) master list here

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“Have a great night, guys!” You call as the most miserable family you’ve ever served in your entire time of being at the diner slumps out the door. A small laugh escapes your lips, almost in disbelief at what you’ve just put up with, as you start to clear their plates. Clinks of metal cutlery scraping fired ceramic plates fill your ears as you gather everything in an impressive stack. Guiltily, you take the gracious tip they’ve left you and you suddenly feel awful for whining to yourself about how unpleasant they’d been. 

Behind the till, you place their cash tip into the tip jar and then take the plates to the back to be washed. The heat of the kitchen still overwhelms you as you place the stack of dirty dishes into the hot sink full of water. “Busy out there, yet?” Deborah, the main pot washer calls out from the break room, her evening drawing out slowly in front of her at the slow stream of customers. 

“Not quite yet, still early though, Debs!” You call back cheerily, behind her back you all call her Debbie Downer, no matter what you say Deborah will reply with something depressing that ultimately kills the mood of the conversation.

Last month, when you told her you’d got a new cat, she had replied, “Feline AIDS is the biggest killer of domestic cats. Hope you got it checked!” 

Pushing back through the swing doors, you see a few more groups had been shown to tables and you were ready to go over to welcome them in. One group you see, is your friends. 

An unsettled feeling stews inside you, you love that they come here to see you, but you hate how it makes you feel pressured. Dustin loves the shakes, Mike and El the burgers, and Steve loves to come just to see you. Not that you know that. You’re partial to a spill of a drink, or a burger to the floor as it slips off the plates as you try to juggle too many, and you do not want Steve to see anything like that. You’ll just have to try not to show off your plate stacking skills this evening. 

Whipping your pad out from the front of your grease-stained apron, you walk to their table and paint a smile on your face, beaming from ear to ear. “Fancy seeing you here.” You approach the table and stand next to Steve, who looks up at you with a small smile painted across his rose-tinted lips.