ghost.

“Hey,” Steve says, casually stepping forward.

You notice how his sunglasses pushed his famous hair back, and the corduroy jacket he wore made him look like a perfume model stepped straight out of one of the many magazines in the room.

“Something's wrong with my car, think I could see the mechanic?”

You roll your eyes and step back behind the counter to grab a file.

“Well, you’re looking right at her.”

You’re used to that. Being overlooked. No one ever comes into the shop and assumes you’re the one who fixes cars. And why would they? It’s not like you expected any different when you saw Steve Harrington enter the shop. Hawkins High King, Golden Boy, Steve The Hair Harrington…no, of course he would come in here and assume you weren’t adequate to fix his precious ‘83 BMW he drove into the parking lot.

Steve blinks. “You’re the mechanic?”

“Last I checked.” You replied snarkily. You tried to smile. You did. You’re trying to be nice. But you see this kind of attitude day in and day out, and the last person you want to hear it from is the ruler of your old high school.

He shifts, hand on one hip, a crooked smile on his lips. “I just - I figured -”

“That I’d be a guy?” You ask, eyebrows quirked.

You thought some time out of high school would give this guy a reality check, but no, here he was, just as delusional as he was in high school. Except this time, he had grown more into his looks, muscles defined, fuller lips, and a glint in his eyes like he could show you the world and then some. But that was none of your business…

Steve rubs the back of his neck nervously, like he got caught sticking his hand in the cookie jar.

“No, I just thought -”

“They usually do.” You roll your eyes and shove the clipboard at him with paperwork for him to fill out. You hand him the pen as well. He notices your rigidity but doesn’t say anything. Instead, he gently takes it from you and sits down to begin to write. As he fills it out, he starts describing what’s going on with the car.

He clears his throat. “Right, so, there’s this noise.”

You lean against the doorframe and watch as he fills out the sheet. “What kind of noise?”

“Uh,” he hesitates. He didn’t want to sound stupid. “Like a ticking..? And it smells strange sometimes. And overheating..for sure, so…”

You notice how, when he writes, there are certain moments where he stops himself from using cursive, as if it were something he was trying to unlearn. You also noticed the expensive wrist watch compared to his beat-up shoes that look like they’ve been through hell and back. They almost look as bad as your boots, which you’ve had and held onto for the past five years. You could get more, but you’ve sort of grown emotionally attached to them. 

“Do I know you from somewhere?” Steve asks.

This surprises you. He doesn’t recognize you? Doesn’t remember you? Typical.

“Let me see your keys.”

“What?”

“I’m gonna pull the car into the garage.”

He hands over the keys, and you hate how you notice the largeness and softness of his hands after they brushed yours. Compared to your hands, rough and dirty from the day's work, you almost feel bad accidentally touching him.

Steve watches you walk out to his car and start it. He never lets anyone drive, ever, so handing that over to you was a challenge. He watched as your hands caressed the wheel and you read the signs on the dashboard. He noticed your eyebrow quirk at the noises it started making, and your neutral expression soon turned into a frown. It’s like the car was music only you could understand. The noises were in a language only you knew. Your eyes lit up when you pressed on the gas, but your face ended up in a grimace as you drove it into the garage. He couldn’t see your face anymore.

When he finished the paperwork, he joined you outside but used the door connecting the waiting room to the garage instead of walking all the way around outside. More of the decor he noticed was flowers, an assortment, really. ‘You must really like them,’ he thought.

When he walked in, you had the hood popped, and you were looking under it like you were reading hieroglyphics from ancient times. He admired that he tried not to notice the way your overalls rode up as you bent over to check for something. 

You stood back up straight and exhaled through your nose. He noticed that when you wiped your hands, a few rings adorned your fingers. He wondered where they all came from.

“You cooked it.” You say, looking at him expectantly.

His heart dropped. He’s not sure what that means, but he knows it can’t be good. His posture straightens; he didn’t even realize he was slouching.

“Excuse me?”

“Coolant’s probably leaking into the cylinders. Oils contaminated.”

Steve stares at you like you’ve grown two heads. Yeah, this is definitely not what he needed to hear right now. 

“When’s the last time you replaced the water pump?” You ask.

Replace? Fix? Since when does he have time for that? He doesn't even have the time to entertain a thought about doing anything else other than babysitting, occasionally saving the world, and taking a few punches in the process. Life is way different than how he imagined - especially now.

“My what?” He’s lost in thought. How long was this going to take? How was he going to get around? “So what, it’s bad?”

“If the heads warped, we’re talking teardown. Machine shop. New gasket. New bolts. Weeks probably. Especially with the quarantine.”

“Fuck,” he sighs, running his hands through his hair. “But you can fix it, right?”

“That’s what you’re paying me for, so yeah.”

·· · ─ ·✶· ─ · ·· · ─ ·✶· ─ · ·· · ─ ·✶· ─ · ·· · ─ ·✶· ─ · ··

You didn’t tell Steve your name, but he noticed it on some trophy hung up on the shelf in the garage before he left. He explained to everyone his car situation, and Murray was able to find him a truck in the meantime - but it was beat up, and nothing like his BMW.

“Robin…” They were on a commercial break at WSQK. “Do you remember a Y/N? L/N? From school?”

Robin looks like she’s searching her mind like she has a mental Rolodex of everyone she’s ever met stored up there.

“Uh, yeah. She’s my year. We took this art class together once. Why?”

 Steve shifts in his chair and rolls himself back and forth with his legs.

“She’s working on my car.”

“Oh,” Robin says. “Since when has she worked on cars? I thought she used to work at that diner on Hickory Road? Actually, I think it might be closed now, so of course she wouldn’t -”

“The diner!” Steve interrupts. So that’s where he knew you from.  For a while, he used to go to this diner senior year, and you were always working whenever he came in. You guys would talk until one day, you wouldn’t talk to him anymore. He wasn’t sure why then, but he was definitely thinking about it right now.

For the next hour, Robin tries to get Steve’s attention, but he’s distracted. He’s either doodling, staring off into space, or running his hand through his hair exasperatedly. Every time she tries to call his name, he doesn’t hear it the first time and then just grunts in response to whatever she asks.

After the show, Robin rushes to throw her jacket on.

“All right, Stevie boy, let’s go.”

“Uh, go where?”

“To go check on your precious car. I know that’s all you’re thinking about.”

Well, that wasn’t all he was thinking about. You couldn’t seem to leave his mind. Why had he not recognized you? 

When Robin and Steve walked into the shop, someone was sitting behind the desk. She was pale, had long black hair in two braids, and her rosy cheeks flushed when she asked them what they needed. Steve noticed that Robin couldn’t take her eyes off her. Steve went searching for you after confirming with the girl that his car was indeed there and being serviced.

Steve tried to be quiet, sneak up on you while you were in your element, try to see what you looked like when you weren’t looking at him in total disgust…but that plan failed when he tripped over cans and made about five fall announcing his arrival.

“Wow. You’re about as subtle as a bull in a china shop, aren’t you?” You ask, eyebrows quirked. There was a glint in your eye, as if you were mildly amused.

“Sorry.” He smiles shyly, attempting to clean everything up. You noticed his jeans hugged him when he squatted down to arrange the cans. That, plus the sweater he had on, made you remember why he was so sought after years ago. Hell, even now. 

“So, how’s my baby?” You hated how your stomach dipped at that. Your cheeks flushed, but you turned before he could notice. You would not swoon over Steve Harrington. Absolutely not.

“Gasket’s probably blown. And if you keep driving it hot, the aluminum head could be warped.”

He swallows. “Warped like…?”

“Like it doesn’t sit flat anymore.” You meet his eyes now. “Which means it doesn’t seal. Which means you lose compression. Which means you don’t have an engine for long.”

Silence settles between you. You watch the realization hit him — not just about the car. About how long he ignored it.

He exhales slowly. “I didn’t think it was that serious.”

“You don’t wait until smoke’s pouring out to take warning lights seriously,” you say evenly. “They’re there for a reason.”

His jaw tightens slightly at that.

“I had stuff going on,” he says, and there’s something defensive under it. Not arrogant. Defensive.

You shrug. “Everybody does.”

That one lands.

“Y/N, did you grab the stuff on my list from the store like I asked?”

You watch as your sister enters the shop. She didn’t even look up at you when she entered, too busy searching her purse for something, but when she finally lifted her head, she noticed you and Steve staring at her.

“Oh my God, Steve Harrington!” Your sister rushed to him and wrapped her arms around him like she had just reunited with her long-lost love. Hell, maybe she had. You turned away and focused your attention back on Steve’s car. You tried not to notice the way he talked to her - animated, like he was telling the greatest story of all time.

Your sister was one of many of Steve’s conquests. You remember how charming he was, strolling her around school and you watch as he pulls out that same charm now. He hasn’t changed. Still the same old Steve Harrington. By the time they were done, and she was done gushing over him because she had a hair appointment to get to, your sister made her way back over to you. She looked at you in disgust, like she couldn’t believe how dirty you’ve gotten.

“Don’t forget dinner tonight. Mom says she wants Chinese.” She smiles in a fake way that makes you want to hit her. But you don’t. Because you're a civilised human being. 

She totally deserves it though.

Steve watched as you turned back on your…sister? He doesn’t remember Shelby having a sister when he went out with her in high school. In fact, he really doesn’t see any resemblance at all. When he makes his way over to you, he watches you take a pull from the cigarette you just lit.

“These are so bad for you, you know.” He takes it from your hands and draws from it. “I didn’t know Shelby had a sister…I didn’t know you -”

“I know.” You take the cigarette back. It comes out sharper than you meant it to.

He goes still.

You immediately regret it, but you don’t take it back.

He clears his throat. “Look, I wasn’t trying to—”

“To what?” you challenge, finally turning fully toward him. “Assume I couldn’t do my job? Or forget I existed?”

His expression shifts. The cocky edge dulls.

“I didn’t assume you couldn’t,” he says. “I just didn’t expect—”

“It’ll take at least two weeks,” you say. “Maybe three. Machine shop’s backed up.”

Steve pauses. He notices your hair is in a different style than yesterday, and notes he likes it a little better like this; he can see your eyes more, but he also sees how you’re glaring at him. You weren’t going to continue that conversation even though he really wanted you to. You’re snarky, and you’re sharp, but you intrigue him.

“Are you always this hard on your customers?” he asks quietly, taking the cig back from you. He ignores the burning coming from his fingertips when they brush yours - and it wasn't from the lit ash.

“Only the ones who think they’re indestructible.”

A beat. He huffs out something that’s almost a laugh. “Trust me. I know I’m not.” He stalks away but stops right at the door. “And for what it’s worth, I didn’t mean to forget you.”

·· · ─ ·✶· ─ · ·· · ─ ·✶· ─ · ·· · ─ ·✶· ─ · ·· · ─ ·✶· ─ · ··

When you got home, you replayed your and Steve's conversations over and over again in your head. He had almost sounded hurt at the end of it. In fact, you hadn’t expected him to leave as quickly as he did. You fiddled with the necklace around your neck and rubbed it gently like you often did when you were thinking too hard about something. 

The Steve Harrington spell is something you were no stranger to. You, too, had the schoolgirl crush on the “Golden boy” back in high school, but it wasn’t something you overly thought about. You hated his popularity, you hated his friends, but God, the jokes he told in class really got you through it. His laugh alone lifted your spirits when things were hard at home. Sometimes, just the daydreams - the idea of him was able to get you through the day. The idea that for once, something or someone as cool as Steve Harrington - would happen for you.

And Shelby never acknowledged you in school. So when she and Steve started dating, you weren’t even an afterthought. You weren’t jealous of her and Steve - but you did envy the life she got to so easily live. Popular, dating the hottest guy in school, every girl wants that. Wants to be noticed - wants to be seen.

And Steve did see you. Once upon a time.

You used to work at this diner down the road. It’s closed now, but it was your favorite spot a few years ago. It was a bit away from the school, so it wasn’t like one of those after-school hangout spots. While you were serving, Steve used to come in, eyes bright and shiny - hair perfect. He sat at the counter, which you didn’t expect - he seemed like a booth type of guy. Steve talked about basketball and homework. He asked you what your favorite classes were and why you liked working at the diner. He would come in, and you two would talk for hours. You two even talked about your parents and his - yours passed, and his…absent. You remember being able to empathize with one another. You had a feeling that his frequent visits were due to him escaping the silence at home.

So, like it always seems to, that schoolgirl crush became something more. You valued the friendship you seemed to have developed with him.

Right as you turned over to go to sleep, Shelby burst into your room like the hall was on fire. She had no regard for the peace and quiet you were holding on to and reached for your desk lamp to turn it on.

“So, Y/N,” she scrunches her face and says your name like it was the equivalent of moldy cheese. “When’s the next time Steve is supposed to come around?”

You scoff at her and roll over in your bed. “Get out.”

She rolls her eyes and starts pulling at things on your desks, absentmindedly shuffling papers, “accidentally,” dropping pencils and pens on the floor. 

“I hope you don’t think you actually have a chance. I see the way you look at him.”

You throw a pillow at her. “Trust me, the only person in this room who wants him is you.”

She huffs like she doesn’t believe you. “Good. Because he wouldn’t want you and your grease-stained overalls anyway."

She leaves the room without another word, but her voice still echoes in your head. What does she mean by the way you look at him? You look at Steve as you would any other customer. As a means to get out. One more dollar added to the fund for being able to move out and start a new life outside of your stepfamily. 

The phone rang next to you, breaking you from your thoughts.

It was Carlie. She was the second-best part about working at the auto shop. The first was that it was your father's, and you loved the work, being able to fix things, like how you wished you could fix your life, but the second was Carlie. Your best friend. She had been with you through everything. Your father's death, your stepmother and step-sisters' cruelty, hard days at work…she was there.

“Y/N! Do you remember a Robin? Buckley? She was in our class.”

You sit up straight in your bed, racking your brain, trying to remember. “Yeah, I think so, wasn’t she in band or something? Think we had a class together once, too, some kind of elective.”

“Yes! Well,” Carlie sounds exasperated through the phone, as she had just climbed two flights of stairs. That’s how she got when she was excited. “She came in with Steve today!”

“With Steve?” You ask. “What do you mean with Steve?”

You could feel yourself heating up. What was this feeling? Jealousy? No, you could not be jealous when it came to Steve.

“Uhm, like they're somehow best friends “with Steve,” and Y/N, when I tell you she got totally hot, I don’t know how I kept my composure today. I wanted to like literally jump her bones.”

Okay, right, well…no, there really was no reason to be jealous. Not that you were in the first place. All you wanted to do was close your eyes and forget about everything and everyone, especially Steve Harrington. But Robin? That seemed like an unlikely friendship to you. Not who Steve typically would hang out with. This surprised you. What happened to Tommy and Carol?

·· · ─ ·✶· ─ · ·· · ─ ·✶· ─ · ·· · ─ ·✶· ─ · ·· · ─ ·✶· ─ · ··

Steve debated visiting the shop. He knows you don’t like him. And to be honest, he’s not liking you a whole lot right back. Where do you get off on telling him that he thinks he’s indestructible? When did he ever say that? In fact, he was far from it. If anything, he’s learned the past two years is that nothing is indestructible. And everything is temporary. You don’t go from fighting monsters back to totally normal. If he wasn’t already, he definitely was ready for his car to be fixed. 

“You know you don’t have to come here every day.” You say rolling yourself out from under the car.

“Actually, the last time I was here was like three days ago, so not every day.” Steve snarks back, taking a bite from a granola bar. When it finally registers what he’s seeing, his eyes widen, and his granola falls from his hands.

“Is this my car? You tore it apart!”

He feels as if he could cry. His poor beemer. He saw there were multiple parts on the floor around you and tools on your waist. You were holding a small piece in your mouth as you twisted something apart. He could feel himself harden in his pants slightly at the thought of what else your mouth could do. Why was he even thinking about that? He watched as you took the piece out of your mouth and put it where it belonged.

He still felt panic in his chest.

“That’s usually how repairs work, Harrington.”

He presses his lips together. “You don’t have to be condescending.”

“You don’t have to be reckless,” you snap back.

“Reckless?” He straightens. “She’s mostly fine.”

“And you drove it..or her…overheated for who knows how long.”

He gestures vaguely. “I had things going on.”

You wipe your hands on a rag. “Oh, of course. The world revolves around you. I forgot.”

He laughs once — sharp. “You really don’t like me.”

“I hate you, actually.”

“Hate’s a strong word.”

“I have strong feelings.” You say.

“Aw, tell me about your other strong feelings for me.” He smiles. You blush at his words, but roll your eyes regardless.

You step around him to grab a tool. He doesn’t move at first, so you bump his arm with yours. Your body shudders when you feel his hand move to your hip to help you slide past him. You ignore how warm and strong his touch feels.

“Excuse you.”

“Shop’s tight,” he says mildly. “You’ll survive.”

You look up at him from under your lashes. “You enjoying hovering?”

“I’m supervising.” He makes a move to check under the engine like he was some sort of inspector making sure you were doing your job right. You’ve had plenty of men come and do that to you - didn’t completely trust you with their cars - but the way Steve did it was almost playful.

“You don’t know what you’re looking at.”

He glances at the exposed engine again. “That’s… engine stuff.”

You stare.

He lifts a brow. “See? I know cars.”

“You drive cars.”

“Same difference.”

“It’s really not.”

He folds his arms. “You know, most mechanics try not to insult the person paying them.”

“Most customers don’t argue with the person rebuilding their engine.”

He tilts his head. “You rebuilding it? Or are you gonna call in a real mechanic?”

The second it leaves his mouth, there’s a beat.

He knows he crossed the line, but he’s gauging your reaction. Seeing how hard he can push before you really snap at him. For some reason, he’s interested in your limits. 

Your jaw tightens.

“I am the real mechanic.”

His sarcasm fades just slightly — but not completely. He smiles cooly, hovering above you, staring down right into you. You don’t miss how your eyes fall to your lips and back to your eyes again. If you didn’t know any better, you’d think he’d try to kiss you. Part of you wishes you didn’t hate the idea of that. 

“Then prove it.”

You step closer. Not intimidated. Not flustered. Okay, well, maybe a little flustered. You two were standing really close. You could practically feel the heat radiating off his body onto yours. 

“You want technical?” you ask coolly, taking a single step back. There needed to be space between the two of you. Asap. “Head’s warped at least five thousandths. I won’t know for sure until the machine shop decks it. Gasket’s blown. Coolant’s been bleeding into the cylinders, which means you’re lucky you didn’t hydrolock the whole block.”

He stares.

You continue, relentless.

“I’ll replace the head bolts because BMW uses torque-to-yield. New thermostat. Probably a water pump since you clearly don’t believe in preventative maintenance. Then I’ll flush the oil twice so you’re not running milkshake through your bearings.”

Silence. You lift your chin. “Anything else?”

He steps closer — not backing down now, but not mocking either.

“Yeah,” he says quietly. “You always this intense, or am I special?”

You don’t break eye contact. “You’re not special, Harrington.”

His jaw ticks at that.

“Keep calling me that,” he says softly, “and I might start charging you for the ego damage.”

You scoff. “Pretty sure your ego’s factory-installed. Hard to dent.”

He smirks. “You’d be surprised.”

There’s something under that line. Something not sarcastic at all.

You look away first.

“Come back in a week,” you say briskly. “I’ll know more.”

He doesn’t move.

“You sure you’re not just dragging this out to see me again?” he asks.

You blink slowly. “Trust me. If I wanted to see you, I wouldn’t need your engine to explode.”

His grin falters just a little.

“Good to know,” he mutters.

·· · ─ ·✶· ─ · ·· · ─ ·✶· ─ · ·· · ─ ·✶· ─ · ·· · ─ ·✶· ─ · ··

Carlie’s at the edge of your bed, wolfing down an entire bag of Doritos.

“Speaking of Steve, he’s like even more hot now, right? He’s got this rugged, ‘I’m handsome, and I know it, but emotionally complex,’ thing going on right now.”

You finish your bite of ice cream. “When were we speaking of Steve?” you ask, laughing softly.

“Since we were talking about how great Robin was.”

“We weren’t talking about that either.”

Carlie makes a face and points at her hair. Because her fingers were full of Dorito dust, she needed help putting it up in a bun. This also meant that she just wanted you to play in her hair, so before you put it up, you started on one of her mandatory scalp massages, which she forces you to do in exchange for bringing you great snacks every time she comes over.

“So what do you have against Sexy Steve H anyway?”

You blush at that, but chastise yourself for it. Why are you blushing at the thought of Steve Harrington? “Uhm, you don’t remember him thinking I couldn’t do my job because I’m a girl?”

You could feel Carlie shake her head under your fingers. It made you lose grip of her hair. “Is that what he said, or is that what you heard?”

“Well, he’s also still full of himself. Just like in high school. Why do you care so much anyway? I don’t have to like Steve just because you like Robin. Those two things aren’t mutually exclusive.”

“I just think you should give him a chance. You haven’t talked to a guy in I don’t know how long, and I don’t know this banter you have with him is the only thing I’ve seen you light up about in months.”

You thought about it. It is true that ever since Steve has been stopping by, you’ve found a certain joy in your arguments. And while yes, some of your feelings towards him are rational and justified, there is a part of you that exaggerates it just to bit to get him to react. It’s hard not to see the boy you used to have that schoolgirl crush on, because when he stares at you deep into your eyes, or touches you a second too long, you swear you could feel those feelings come right back up again.

And that’s why you can’t let yourself fall for him.

He’s still the same, and not only that, but your sister's ex - and you do not want the drama of her and her attitude. Plus, this is all hypothetical; you’re just fixing his car. That doesn't mean that he's feeling anything else towards you.

You’re not even sure why you’re still entertaining these thoughts.

·· · ─ ·✶· ─ · ·· · ─ ·✶· ─ · ·· · ─ ·✶· ─ · ·· · ─ ·✶· ─ · ··

Steve’s back two days later. He knows you said a week, but something was pulling him towards you. He couldn’t seem to stay away. It’s like you were a magnet, and every time he wasn’t within five feet of you, you were all he could think about - all that was on his mind. Your quiet smile, your floral smell, the way you would curse to yourself when you messed up - the way you would banter with him like you didn’t have anything better to do…

“So…” Steve starts.

“So?” you ask. Twisting a bolt. You weren’t working on his car today; you were still waiting for the part to come in.

“This was your dad's shop, right?” He asks. He tries to be gentle - it wasn’t until he talked to Robin that he realized you used to work at this diner he used to go to sometimes. In all honesty, you were the only reason he went - he thought you were beautiful, but out of his league - and he didn’t recognize you when he came into the shop days ago. There was a big difference between the teenager you and the you now. You were still gorgeous, but the way you carried yourself with such confidence - it was ethereal. If he thought you were out of his league back then, you definitely were now.

Anyway, after remembering the tidbits you two used to talk about, he remembered you talking about your parents. It was a touchy subject for both of you - his parents chose to be absent, but yours, yours didn’t. And he remembered how awful that must have felt. 

“Yeah, it was.” You say.

“And he taught you this stuff?”

You nod, trying to reach for a tool, and failing. “Make yourself useful and help, since you want to come to my place of work and be a stalker.”

“Yes, ma’am.” He says, grabbing the tool you were reaching for. You grab his hand and make him hold down a wire so that you can twist it with another.

“And what’s with the flowers? Is spring your favorite season or something?” He asks.

“You’re so nosy, Harrington.” He doesn’t know what you’re thinking, but people like talking about the things they love - and he has a sense that you don’t get to do that often. “My mother was a florist. Before she died, my house looked like a real life green house. I brought the plants here when my dad died to try to keep them both alive together.”

“Wow.” Steve clears his throat. “That’s beautiful.”

Steve could tell how heavily guarded you were. Not mean. At least, not right now. Not cold. Just… protected. Like every answer you gave had already been measured before it left your mouth. He watches your hands instead — steady, precise, confident. Nothing like the girl he remembered nervously balancing plates at the diner.

He held the flashlight where you needed it, any excuse to be close to you, really.

“Yeah, yeah, whatever.” you say.

You try to put some space between the two of you - but Steve was making it nearly impossible. And even though he wasn’t touching you, it’s like you could feel him all over you. 

“You still hate when people hover?” he asks. You can tell he’s doing it on purpose now. Somehow, he knows the effect he has on you.

You glance at him. “You used to hover.”

“You used to pretend not to notice.”

“I noticed,” you say. “You ordered the same thing every time and barely ate it.”

He huffs a laugh. “I ate it.”

“You pushed it around.”

A small silence.

“You knew?” he asks.

You shrug. “You tipped twenty dollars for pancakes, Harrington. I’m not stupid.”

His ears go pink. “I thought you were out of my league.”

You pause. The wire slips slightly in your fingers before you tighten it again.

“You had a car and perfect hair,” you say flatly. “You were everyone’s league.”

“Not yours.”

You don’t look at him. Instead, you reach for electrical tape. Anything to distract.

“People like you don’t actually want girls like me,” you say quietly. 

“People like me?”

“Yes, people like you - who choose people like Shelby.”

You finally are able to put some space between the two of you when you walk to the back of the shop to grab some more tools. You also go to wash your hands just to put some more space and time between the two of you. 

“I came back for you, today, not Shelby.”

“Why?”

There was a pause.

“I don’t know,” he says quietly.

You blink — caught off guard — and immediately busy yourself cleaning your hands on a towel. You finally look at him again — not defensive, not sharp. Just tired. You hesitate. For the first time since he came back — really hesitate. Because this isn’t banter anymore. And you don’t know what to do with sincerity. There was something he was keeping from you. Things that have happened - things that might explain his knuckles, slightly rough - healed over more than once. The dark circles under his eyes that might not have been from partying like the old him…but more like late nights awake. It’s in his posture - how he stands ready for anything, not posed. You wonder what made him this way. Is it why he seems so changed?

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Steve admires that even though there was so much going on, Dustin and his friends still had time for fun. Weekly, they’ll get together and play D&D, a game he still doesn’t understand - and Steve has somehow become Dustin’s designated driver. Steve wished he had time for hobbies, hell, and if he had time, what would he even do? Play basketball? Steve doesn’t even know what he likes anymore. He’s been obsessed with the idea of hanging onto the past - i.e, Nancy, that he hasn’t even had the chance to find himself again. He thinks about how passionate you are about fixing cars - he’s not sure why he’s even thinking about you right now, but at least you have something.

Steve feels like he has nothing. He’s not in school, he’s in a dumb cover-up job, Hawkins in a lockdown…this is not how he imagined his life to be. 

Dustin runs out of the house, bookbag slung over his shoulders, disheveled, and forcefully pulls the truck door open.

“Damn, Steve, when are you getting your car back?” Dustin's nose turns up at the condition of the car while he throws his stuff in the backseat.

Steve starts up the truck. “Would you like to walk home?”

Dustin rolls his eyes and reaches for the unopened soda on the floor. “So, what’s up with you and this mechanic?” Somehow, he’s also found snacks he’s stuffing his face with.

“What do you mean?” Steve asks, slightly sitting straighter in his seat. “How do you know about her?”

“Robin.”

Of course. Robin was the last person to keep her mouth shut. Not that there was anything to tell, but the whole situation is just bizarre. 

Steve clears his throat. “She’s just fixing my car. Not sure what you’re trying to insinuate.”

Dustin laughs. “I’m not insinuating anything - but I know you’re thinking something.”

Dustin watches as Steve's hands tense around the steering wheel. Not hard enough to where he seemed angry, but just enough to know what he was right, and a certain mechanic was on Steve’s mind. 

As soon as Steve dropped Dustin off and got home, he immediately called Robin.

“What’s up, Stevie boy? It's kinda late.”

Steve rolls his eyes. “Robin, your bedtime is like 3 AM. You should be the last person worried about whether it’s late or not.”

“Whatever,” he can hear shuffling through the phone, like she was getting up to do something. “What’s so important you couldn’t wait until the station tomorrow?”

“What did you tell Dustin about Y/N?” Steve can feel his chest tighten slightly. What’s there to tell, really? You’re fixing his car? You’re driving him crazy? You make him want to pull his hair out and shut you up with a kiss all at once?

“Uhm, just the obvious sexual tension between the two of you. Plus seems like you’re spending every free moment over there.”

He’s ignoring that. “I think she hates me.”

Robin snorts through the phone. “Does she actually hate you, or is this foreplay?”

Steve pinches the bridge of his nose and squeezes his eyes shut. “Rob- what? She’s holding a grudge from high school. I don’t know. We don’t really talk about it.”

“Well, you weren’t exactly the greatest guy in school, were you, Steve?”

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It didn’t take a lot of convincing for Steve when Robin mentioned bowling. He hadn’t been out in a really long time, and this was the perfect chance. Sure, the food sucked, and the music wasn’t great, but hanging out with Robin was always a good time, and he loved Dustin, he did, but he also liked hanging out with people the same age as him. 

So when he entered the bowling alley and noticed there weren't a lot of people, he was mildly grateful. Steve was in a mood to have fun, not put on the social butterfly he usually had to put on when he ran into people he knew from Hawkins High. They still expected him to be the same - still crack the same jokes, have the same inviting energy. But he wasn’t the same, and hated acting like it.

After he paid for him and Robin, he followed her to the lanes so they could put on their shoes. What he didn’t notice until he stood up, shoes tied, was that you and your friend were in the accompanying lanes. The look of surprise that came across his face was almost embarrassing, except for the fact that his eyes couldn’t leave yours. You looked annoyed, not shocked to see him. Maybe you had a little more time to register this than he did, because he knew that if you knew he was here, you probably wouldn't have come. In the same way Robin surprised him, your friend probably surprised you, too. 

This was the first time he was seeing you outside of the garage, and boy, did you clean up nice. He knew you looked good before; he’d never say that out loud in fear of being hit over the head with a wrench, but you definitely looked good now. It wasn’t even about the clothes; it was about the confidence you wore. Like the other side of you, the one that didn’t live under hoods was finally poking her head out. And if he didn’t stop his eyes from wandering down, he soon wouldn’t be able to stop the blood rushing to his groin at the sight of your ass in those jeans.

Pissed was an understatement. You could have literally tackled Carlie like a linebacker with the amount of rage you were feeling right now. She did not tell you Steve would be here. In fact, you barely wanted to come at all. You weren’t that great at bowling, and you did not like not being good at something. So you avoided it. But Carlie insisted you come - said she didn’t want to be alone, and how was she going to have fun by herself? But here was Robin - avoiding the same looks Steve was giving her as you were giving Carlie. It seems as though he was just as surprised as you were. 

“Carlie, I hope you know I’m going to kill you. Very violently.”

Carlie smiles and squeezes your hand. “It’ll be okay, I promise.”

The bowling alley smells like nachos and overpriced beer. You consider buying one just to get through tonight. You hate the way he’s looking at you. Like he wants to say something, but is holding back. You try to ignore him as the game begins, but you can literally feel his eyes bore into the back of your head.

You rolled horribly. You knocked down three, which is better than nothing, but the look on Steve’s face when you turned only fueled you more. When Steve went, you watched his arms, strong, long, poised - he looked like he knew exactly what he was doing. And he did. A perfect strike. When he turned, he didn’t look smug, like you thought; he looked…relieved, like maybe he wasn’t completely sure he could do it. He looked over to you, probably to gloat, but you rolled your eyes and sat down, waiting for Carlie and Robin to go. 

Even though Carlie was on your team, she had basically ditched you to talk Robins' ear off. You couldn’t be upset. You were happy for her, and they actually looked really cute together. It was so easy for them - smiling, laughing…having a good time. You wished you had joined in, but there was nothing funny about this situation. Nothing funny about Steve. The way his muscles flexed, the way his hair was perfectly styled, the way his clothes clung to him like they were especially made for his body only. Ugh. 

You watched as Steve made his way over to you.

“No. Nope. Go back over there, Harrington, you’re not on my team, and I will not be fraternizing with the enemy.”

He smiles as he sits down next to you. “So that’s what we’re doing? Fraternizing?” He watches as you tuck your laces into your shoes. Anything to avoid him. “Robin and Carlie are fraternizing, and they’re on opposite teams. Why can’t we?”

You huff. “Because they actually like each other."

You didn’t look at Steve to see if it stung him. You really didn’t want to know his reaction. Soon enough, it was your turn again, and you got the same score. Three. You groaned as you walked away. I suck you thought. Steve went after you, and it wasn’t a strike, but he did manage to get all the pins down in two rolls. It wasn’t fair. Perfect Steve winning. He and Robin were beating you in points, but Carlie was just as good as Steve, so she was giving him a run for his money, and your team wasn’t far behind. You and Robin were as useless as a hockey stick in a soccer game. The game was basically between Steve and Carlie.

You’re lining up your next shot when you feel him.

“Don’t,” you say immediately. You knew what he was about to do. Charming Steve would come to be your hero and help. You couldn’t think of anything worse right now. Just what you needed. Steve being right about something, too good for you, even. That he was better than you. If it wasn’t obvious, with your step-sister rubbing it into your face, it sure was apparent now. 

“I haven’t done anything.”

“You’re about to.”

A pause. Then—He steps in behind you. Not touching. Not yet. But close enough that you feel the warmth of him through the thin fabric of your shirt.

“I’m just helping,” he says lightly.

“I don’t need help.” You did. But you didn’t want to admit it. It shouldn’t have felt this good to have him this close. 

You grip the bowling ball tighter.

His hand reaches past you first — adjusting your fingers in the holes. You tense up. He was so close. Close enough you could feel his breath on the back of your neck. Close enough that you could smell his cologne and forget why you were so mad in the first place. Overpowering you, nearly. He smelled like clean soap and something warm and expensive.

“Loosen up.”

Your breath catches.

“I am.”

He huffs a quiet laugh near your ear.

His other hand hovers near your hip. You feel it before he even makes contact. It felt so familiar and strange all at once. Like it was meant to be, but foreign all at once.

“You’re pulling left,” he murmurs. “Your shoulders are angled.”

“I know how shoulders work, Harrington.”

“Well, you just know everything, don’t you?” That was intentional. You could tell. And then his hand lands on your hip. Firm. Warm. Guiding. Not inappropriate, but not innocent either. Your spine straightens instantly. His chest brushes your back as he adjusts your stance.

“Feet shoulder-width,” he says softly.

“Stop bossing me around.” is all you can manage out. But you knew he wouldn’t listen. His fingers press just slightly at your hip, shifting you an inch.

“There,” he says.

His other hand comes around your forearm, lifting it slightly. You are very aware of how big his hands are compared to yours. How they felt against your body should be illegal. 

“Follow through,” he murmurs, almost against your hair.

You swallow.

“If I miss, I’m blaming you.”

“I wouldn’t expect anything else.”

The weight of that lands heavier than it should.

The lane suddenly feels too narrow. Too quiet. Robin and Carlie’s laughter feels miles away. You wonder if they see what’s going on or if they’re in their own little world. His hand slides from your forearm to your wrist. Slow. Intentional.

“Okay,” he says softly. “Go.”

You step forward. Release. The ball rolls straighter than it has all night. Pins explode. Strike. You freeze and smile. You did it. That’s the first time you’ve ever done that.  He’s still behind you. Still close. His hand is still lightly around your wrist. You turn your head slightly.

“Told you,” he says.

You exhale shakily.

He doesn’t move away right away. And you don’t step forward. There’s a beat where neither of you speaks. Then—

“You can let go now,” you say, quieter than before.

His thumb shifts slightly against your pulse point.

“I know.”

Another beat.

Then he steps back. You almost wish he didn’t. Steve runs a hand through his hair, suddenly looking less composed than he did five seconds ago.

He makes his way back to Carlie and Robin, but wishes he could’ve stayed by you. You were slowly corrupting his mind like some kind of virus. He could barely keep his hands to himself, and he didn’t know how to feel about it. 

Robin gives him a look, but Steve shakes his head as if to say, ‘Don’t ask.’

Steve watches as Carlie pulls Robin to the concessions, and Steve looks over to you, but you refuse to look at him. After five minutes of silence and your friends’ absence, Steve suggests that the two of you go to the arcade part of the building. He watched as you decided - like it was as hard as choosing between jumping off a cliff or skydiving. Ultimately, to his surprise, you said yes.

He followed you to the neon colored area where it smelled like stale popcorn and teenage boys. Luckily, you two were the only ones there. Steve listened to the song playing over the speaker - some tune from the top 100. He gets excited when you choose air hockey. It was his favorite arcade game. You choose one side, and he walks to the other. Immediately, you shoot the puck into his goal.

Steve laughs. “Oh, that’s the only point you’ll be getting, you caught me off guard!”

“How about you stay on top of your game then?” You bite back.

Steve shakes his head, and soon enough, you two are in a steady rhythm of back and forth. He watches you get scared a couple of times - nervous the puck would hit your hands, but really, he notices how competitive you are. There's a sparkle in your eyes every time you hit the puck.  He watches as you lick your lips and smile every time it flings to his side, and it almost makes it in. He gets so distracted by this that he wasn’t pulled out of his trance until he noticed you jump up and down, hands in the air, because you got another point. 

Your celebration was short-lived when he took his chance to score a point while you were celebrating.

“Hey!” you shout, staring daggers at him, playfully.

“How about you stay on top of your game?” he repeats back to you.

You roll your eyes.

You end up winning. 

He wins basketball, and you call him a cheater. He laughs and calls you a sore loser. You playfully shove him. He catches your wrist when you do, and pulls you close. He’s surprised when you don’t push him away. 

“Why can’t it always be this easy?” He asks. 

You look down at the floor instead of up at him.

“I’ve changed since high school, you know, I’m not that same Steve.” Instead of your wrist, his hand holds your waist - scared you’ll slip away. And you did. You yanked yourself away and turned around, back facing him - the same position you were in when he helped you bowl, except this time the tension was coming from a different place. 

You start walking towards the back of the arcade; you’re not sure where you’re going, but you know you want to put some space between you and Steve before you do something you might regret.

He follows you, though, ruining that plan of yours.

“Y/N, stop running away and tell me what I did so I can apologize for it.”

You still don’t turn around. Can’t bear to face him.

“When I worked at the diner,” You’re not sure why you’re deciding to open up. Maybe it was him helping you, maybe it was your competitive nature, and you getting to see a different side of Steve tonight - a happier one - that made you finally just want to let everything out in the air. Maybe it would have been easier if it wasn’t all bottled up. “Anyway, when you used to come in, you weren’t Steve Harrington - the King of Hawkins High…you were kind, and you were my friend. And then Tommy and Carol came in one day, and it was like the Steve I talked to was gone. They laughed at me, gave me shitty orders, called me ‘Diner girl,’…and you just sat there. Let it happen.”

“Y/N I’m…” Steve starts.

“And Shelby, she saw it. She made sure to remind me that I was nothing more than someone who would always be working for someone else - that someone like Steve Harrington would never look twice at me.”

“I did look twice at you.” his voice sounded like a plea - like he was begging you to believe him, to trust him. “You’re the only reason I ever even went to that diner.”

You turned at this. There was heat in your face, tingling in your fingers; it was like your body was feeling so many things at once that it didn’t know what to do.

“Well, you didn’t look when it mattered.” 

He winced at your words.

“I remember that day,” he says quietly. “You didn’t talk to me the next time I came in, or ever again, really. I thought if I didn’t join in with them, it was better.”

You shake your head. “Neutral isn’t kind, Steve. Neutral is choosing them.”

“I was scared of looking stupid in front of them,” he continues. “And I let you take the fall for it. I was a coward, and I’m sorry. It wasn’t until some time after that happened that I realized how horrible they were - hell, how horrible I was.”

The honesty knocks the air out of your anger for half a second — and you hate that. A long pause stretches between you. The noise of the arcade hums around you, but it feels distant.

Your throat tightens. “You’re different,” you admit before you can stop yourself. You see the scar above his eyebrow, the hollowness in his cheeks, like he might forget to eat, or maybe he’s stressed…it’s obvious that he isn’t the same. 

His eyes flicker. With hope, maybe, like he was finally being seen.

“But different doesn’t erase it.”

He nods once. “I know.”

“I hated you for that,” you say quickly - like saying it would make whatever is building right now go away.

“And do you hate me now?” he asks. He finally touches you, well, crowds you. Your back was against the wall, and his body was closer - almost pressing you against it. His fingers gently caressed the side of your face.

“Yes,” you say. But your voice was quiet, distant. You were lying, and he knew it.

“I would’ve stopped it,” he says quietly. “If I could go back, I would’ve stopped it.”

Your chest tightens.

That’s it. That’s the final straw. All the anger, the history, the tension from bowling, from the shop, from the way he looked at you tonight like you mattered. You don’t decide to kiss him — your body does. One second you’re staring at his mouth, at the way he keeps saying your name like it matters, and the next your hand is in his jacket, dragging him down to you. The impact of it surprises both of you. Steve stills — just for a breath — like his brain hasn’t caught up yet.

Then he moves.

His hand slides up to your jaw, thumb brushing your cheek before he pulls you closer, and the hesitation disappears. The kiss turns urgent, uneven — all clashing angles and too-sharp inhales, years of things unsaid spilling out at once. You grab the front of his jacket, fist tightening, needing something solid to hold onto because the ground suddenly doesn’t feel steady. He exhales against your mouth — almost a sound — and his other hand finds the back of your head, fingers threading into your hair, holding you there like he’s afraid you’ll rethink this and vanish.

You should stop.

You don’t.

Your forehead bumps his, noses brushing as you both try to breathe and fail, and the kiss only deepens — less angry now, more reckless, like neither of you knows where to put all of this feeling except here. When you finally pull back, it’s only because your lungs force you to. You’re both breathing too hard, too close, neither of you stepping away.

Steve doesn’t want to pull away, but he does - and he watches you retreat into yourself.

“That was...” you start.

He doesn’t say anything. Just holds your face.

You nod to yourself,  pulling back. “A mistake, yeah, I shouldn’t have done that.” You push him away and start convincing yourself that that’s true. This is all happening so quickly. What were you doing?

You watch as Steve shakes his head. “No, what? Stop.”

You look up into his eyes and hate how sincere he looks. Could he really have changed? Is he really as different as he says he is? But then you think back to his and Shelby’s flirting…his comments about being busy and having a life…no, he has to still be the same. And if he was the same, that means you would get hurt again. And you already have enough to hurt about. You didn’t need Steve Harrington entering your life just to flip everything upside down. You hated how you felt like you were retreating to your junior year self. 

“I’m not your do-over, okay? Or your redemption arc - you don’t get to practice being the good guy on me because you feel bad, I’m not -”

“Y/N, I’m trying to be honest with you here, and you just -” One step forward, two steps back.

Just then, the alarm on your watch beeped, letting you know that it was 11:30. Shit. You had to go. If you weren’t home by 12 your stepmom would kill you. Not that this was a conversation you wanted to finish anyway.

Steve watched as you pushed past him and briskly walked out of the arcade, presumably to find Carlie. He followed close behind.

“So you’re just going to run away? Is this what you always do? Run when things get hard?”

You ignore him and walk faster. When he finally caught up with you, he overheard you telling Carlie you had to go home. She and Robin were both sitting, sharing soft pretzels and pizza.

“Steve can take you home, can’t ya, Steve?” Steve’s eyes widen as Robin gives him a suggestive look. He looked between Carlie and Robin - neither of them wanted to end the night this early. If Robin was a late nighter, he was sure Carlie probably was too, and even though whatever just happened between the two of you just happened, he still wanted the night to last just a little longer.

“Yup,” he says, short, irritated, but not wanting the night to end like this. He watched as you looked between the pair - probably noticing the same thing he did, and rolled your eyes.

You didn’t say anything, probably because Steve was standing right there. But he could tell you were pissed.

“Have a good night, guys,” he says. “Get home safe.” He turns to leave knowing you have no choice but to follow. The walk to the car is silent, and not the comfortable kind. The kind where every step feels like a countdown. So, when he makes it to the beat-up truck, he makes sure to clean up the seat. He didn’t care about the mess when it was Robin in the seat. He got rid of what he could and left the door open for you. 

You climbed into the passenger seat without looking at him, and he closed the door gently behind you. The only speaking you did was to tell him where your address was; other than that, he watched as you turned your body completely the right, your whole body leaning away from him, leaning on the window.

Steve didnt want to say the wrong thing. So he didn’t say anything. He felt like you were just going to twist his words if he tried, but he realized, now more than ever, that he needed to fix things. That he needed you in his life. He felt like you’ve slowly become the only normal thing - the one constant, something familiar, something he wanted to protect. That even with everything happening in the town, you were still there to ground him - keep him honest. 

You were so heavily guarded - and he knew you had every reason to be, but he wished you’d let down your walls long enough to just trust him. 

A red light stops the car. He finally turns to look at you fully.

11:47

“I’m not trying to practice being a good guy. I’m trying to be one.” he says. You turn to him slightly, and your throat tightens.

“That doesn’t get to start with me.”

“It’s not.”

The light turns green, and he looks forward again. It’s easier when his eyes aren’t on you.

“That kiss wasn’t about proving anything,” he says quietly.

You close your eyes briefly.

“Then what was it about?”

A beat.

“You.”

That’s worse. You check your watch.

11:55.

Too close.

You lean your head back against the seat.

“You’re still reckless.”

“And you’re still running.”

You glare at him. “You don’t get to psychoanalyze me.”

“You don’t get to kiss me like that and act like it meant nothing.”

11:58.

He parks.

“You didn’t even fight for me back then; it’s like you were okay with the friendship being gone.” you say, finally looking at him and actually seeing him. His cheeks were flushed and he kept biting his lip.

“I’m fighting for you now.”

“It’s too late.”

“No, it’s not. I don’t believe that. I think it’s just easier for you to run away than to be honest about what you’re feeling.”

“And you are?”

“I mean, yeah-” he starts, a little defensive now. “At least I’m sitting here saying it. I’m not pretending this doesn’t mean something.”

Your jaw tightens.

“You think showing up a few times and saying the right things counts as fighting?” you cut in. “You didn’t fight when it mattered.”

“I was seventeen,” he snaps, then, quieter, like he regretted it, says, “I was an idiot.” He grips the steering wheel tighter. “I’m not that guy anymore.”

“But you were,” you say, voice trembling now despite your effort to steady it. “And you don’t get to decide when that stops mattering.”

He exhales sharply. “So what, that’s it? You just get to punish me forever?”

Your eyes flash.

“I’m not punishing you. I’m protecting myself.”

Silence drops heavy between you.

The streetlight outside flickers across his face. He looks tired. Frustrated. Desperate.

“I’m trying,” he says quieter now. “You think this is easy for me? You think I like knowing I screwed it up back then? I’m here because I care about you. I cared about you then too, I just—”

“Just what?” you demand.

“I didn’t know how to be brave yet.”

That almost breaks you.

Almost.

“I can’t,” you say, reaching for the door handle.

He studies your face.

“Can’t what?”

“Be the girl you figure it out with.”

He flinches slightly.

“I’m not figuring it out. I know.”

“You didn’t know before.”

“I do now.”

12:00

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taglist

thank you so much for reading!

also i know nothing about cars soo…

please let me know comments/thoughts/opinions - part 2??

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@writtenbysummerroberts @hadesdaughtwr @jeokeery @gennywennypenny @notmily

“You heard his tone, right?” Steve set the walkie aside. He paced around the lounge, “He can never admit that he’s wrong, it’s just so-” 

“Frustrating?” You cut in, “I know, babe. You keep going in circles.”

“Because the kid is driving me crazy,” He huffed and ran a hand through his brunette hair, “And he doesn’t listen. Not just to me, but to anyone.”

A sigh escaped past your lips. Steve was right. Dustin’s spark had dulled since Eddie’s untimely death, and his eyes lacked their usual bright curiosity. It was… painful, to say the least. You never wanted to pressure your little brother, yet at the same time, you so desperately wished he would open up to someone. 

“I get it, I do. It’s rough, but you need to watch how you talk to him.” Your hand came to rub against the back of your neck, “He’s having a hard time.”

“How I talk to him? Babe, you can’t think that I’m the problem.”

“I’m not saying you’re the problem, but I mean, you have this… tone when you talk to him. I mean, do you listen to yourself, or do you have to be told everything?” You pointed out as he came to a halt in front of you. Steve gave you his signature look of confusion, and you had to force yourself not to roll your eyes. You stood from the couch, “Don’t give me that look.”

“I’m not giving you a look,” Steve grumbled, “... And I don’t have a tone.”

“Oh, really?” You cocked your head to the side in disbelief, “Because now you’re giving me that look and attitude.”

He took a half step closer, “You’re wrong—”

“And your humility is out the window, too, it seems.” You shook your head and pressed further, “So tell me again how this little quarrel between you and Dustin is just him being a moody teenager.”

His brow furrowed at the underhanded accusation, “So now I’m the problem? Don’t act like I haven’t been trying to get through to him.”

As much as you loved Steve, he did have a terrible habit of becoming defensive. It was this silent need to shift the blame from himself, a way to evade being labeled a bad guy again. He cared, but it wasn’t easy to be so empathetic with each verbal lashing from Dustin. 

When you didn’t immediately reply, the frown lines on his forehead deepened, “So you think it’s my fault.”

The accusation stung. Because when the three of you crawled out of that hellhole with Nancy and Robin last year, Steve did feel this deep-seated guilt because he couldn’t get back to the gate fast enough to save Eddie. When Steve had pried Dustin off Eddie’s body, and explained that they couldn’t safely get his body back to the Right Side up. He took care of Dustin while Nancy and Robin addressed your wounds from the demobats. It was Steve who sat with Dustin for hours as he sobbed, while you sat shell-shocked in your bedroom. 

“No, no,” You sputtered out in an attempt to get through to him before his walls went up, “But… you’re an adult, and- and he’s a kid who lost his best friend—”

“His best friend?”

His tone made you cringe, and it was clear that Steve had no interest in de-escalating the argument. With a sigh, you clarified, “One of them. Obviously. He’d be just as distraught if he lost anyone in the party, or me, or you. C’mon, don’t be so dense, Steve.”

And that was just the cherry on top for Steve. The floodgates of his frustrations were now open, except instead of Robin calming him or Dustin arguing back, it was all directed at you. 

“Of course you’re taking his side. ‘Henderson’s stick together’ or whatever bullshit it is you say to make yourselves feel better,” He griped and leaned against the wall. 

Your eyes widened at his remark, “Excuse me?”

“You’re excused,” Steve scoffed and started up the stairs towards his bedroom on the upper floor of the station. 

You gawked at him and the sheer audacity. Your eyes narrowed as you glared up at him, “Why are you being so bitchy?”

Steve simply scoffed and rolled his eyes, as if giving a response to the question was beneath him. He paused midflight, hand on his hip as he met your stern gaze, “Bitchy? That’s rich coming from you, princess.”

When you couldn’t respond fast enough, he continued to slink up the stairs. Defeat settled in your stomach. You didn’t want to provoke the issue further when it was clear neither of you would reach a consensus. Instead, you retreated outside to catch some fresh air. 

— — — — — 

It was time for the evening broadcast at The Sqwuak, which meant observing another intrinsic dance between Robin and Steve. While Robin queued up the next track, she was giving another one of her beloved anecdotes to the townfolk of Hawkins. Behind her, Steve moved with a practiced agility; his eyes moving between Robin, the soundboard, and, occasionally, you. Steve was typically so fluid with his movements, but tonight he was rigid, almost like he couldn’t get off the airwaves fast enough to go back upstairs and pout. 

After another harsh glance in your direction from your brown-eyed lover, you’d had enough. They clearly had everything handled, and the broadcast was nearly over anyway. It was obvious they didn’t require the assistance of their handy radio technician. 

You swiftly moved into the kitchen to make yourself a cup of tea before bed. As the water boiled, you turned off the PA systems that you had patched in. You just need one moment of silence to yourself, without the rest of the world ending, boyfriend troubles happening around you. And for a couple of minutes, it was peaceful. The smell of camomile tea leaves wafted from your mug, and you permitted your shoulders to sag for a moment. 

But a moment was all he needed to piss you off again. 

“Why did you leave your station?” Steve swiftly entered the kitchen. His hands settled onto his hips as he looked at you in disbelief.

Your brows furrowed at his incredulous tone, “My station? Please, this isn’t the Big Mac.”

“The MAC-Z,” He was quick to correct you, “And you need to start taking things more seriously. I mean, what if something happened and the signal went down but you weren’t there to just… fix it.”

“Well, I would hope that you and Robin could utilize your one shared braincell in a moment of panic,” You scoffed in return, “I can’t always be there to solve your problems for you, Steve.”

You expected a jab, sneer, or any kind of retort, really. But a stiff silence filled the kitchen instead. Your eyes flicked across his frozen frame, noticing each little detail. The way he clenched his jaw, his right hip slightly jutted, the scowl sketched into his brow. Something ignited in your chest from that smoldering gaze. It was unfair to look so good when you were at each other’s throats. 

“You Hendersons…” He hums lowly. His brown eyes darken, pupils dilated as they flick over your frame, “Can’t fix his attitude. But I know how to take care of yours.”

Something warmed in your stomach from his intense gaze and the touch of trouble in his tone. Your mouth parted to respond, but the whistle of the kettle cut you off. With a slight shake in your hand, you grabbed the mug, and you pulled it off the burner. As your tea bag steeped, two large hands settled on your sides, his hips pressed firmly against your lower back. 

“You still upset that we had to cancel date night for the last crawl?” He mumbled the question as his nose grazed over your ear. 

A chuff sounded under your breath, “I’m not mad that we canceled, but… it feels like you’re not concerned about rescheduling.”

“I’m plenty concerned,” Steve gritted out, “But my biggest concern is keeping you and the kids safe. And both you and your brother give me shit for that. Date night out isn’t always the safest, but I can make sure your needs are still met, honey.”

His hand dipped to tease at the waistband of your jeans. A light gasp breathlessly escaped you as he nipped at the shell of your ear, “I think you’re pissing me off and starting arguments on purpose. Is that it? I didn’t give you enough attention, so you gotta pout like a brat?”

“I’m hardly pouting, Steven,” You lightly shoved at his forearms, just needing an inch of space to breathe. A low growl escaped him as you used his full name, “We wouldn’t be arguing if you just took some initiative. And I’m not just talking about the date.”

“I take initiative, quit acting like I’m some manchild,” Steve glowered down at you. 

“Then quit being one,” You sharply retorted, your quick tongue only getting you further into trouble.

His jaw tensed once more, “So that’s how it’s gonna be? I tried to redirect, but you’re so damn insistent, fucking nagging me on.”

Your eyes widened as Steve’s sass turned vulgar, “Watch your mouth. You wouldn’t be talking like that if—”

“Shut up,” He cut you off as he spun you around. His hips pinned you against the cabinets, “You keep running your pretty little mouth a little too much. Maybe the quarantine’s got you stir crazy, or the crawls are getting to you, but I’m gonna take care of that mouth of yours.”

Steve tapped your thigh twice as he grunted out a sharp request, Knees. And who were you to argue with a man who looked like he was using all his restraint not to just pounce on you and truly ruin you? Sinking to the concrete floor, your hands came to rest on each of his jean-clad thighs. Your fingers gingerly grazed the outline of his prominent bulge. 

“This for me?” Your eyes flicked up to his face with the joke, but his brown eyes continued to bore into your skull. 

“Thought I told you to shut up,” Steve grunted, “But that’s okay, honey. You’re gonna apologize by taking care of me like you always do, huh?”

His hands moved to undo the zipper of his jeans, but his gaze never wavered from your face. It kept you frozen, though desire began to pool in your lower stomach. You leaned forward, your nose grazing against his knuckle and down to brush against his bulge through his briefs. You took in his heady sent, but Steve’s firm hand captured your chin before you could continue. 

“Don’t act so greedy, honey,” He snarled as he forced your head back up, meeting your needy eyes once more. The sight almost made him moan, but he swallowed in down with an easy smirk, “You’re acting desperate. Was that the issue? I didn’t give you enough attention and now you’ve got to give me attitude. Are you a child?”

You blinked up at him, surprised by the shift in Steve’s demeanor. 

“That wasn’t a rhetorical question, sweetheart.” His fingers tightened on your jaw.

“No…” You responded with a shaky breath. 

“No,” He repeated in a mocking tone, “Could’ve fooled me. Acting worse than your brother, been a real brat to me all day—”

You interjected, “Don’t act like you—”

But you couldn’t finish your retort as Steve’s large hands moved to cover your mouth, “God, you just never stop running this pretty little mouth. You need something to keep you quiet.”

His hips jutted words, grinding against your face so that you could take in his musky scent. You lapped at his bulge, your saliva leaving a wet patch. 

“You want more, honey?” His other hand moved to release his cock from the restraint of the briefs. His length stood proud, the tip an angry red, leaking with precum. His hand pulled back, and his thumb brushed over your bottom lip, admiring your wide eyes watching his aching cock. 

“I’m gonna take care of this bratty attitude,” Steve stated, “But you know what to do if it’s too much, honey.”

You eagerly nodded, a secret promise to use the safe word if things went too far. 

Steve didn’t need to second-guess himself, knowing that part of you liked getting in trouble like this and making it up to him. But what really got him was the way your pupils dilated each time his tone or words got a little too sharp. 

Your fingers held supported the tip of his cock while your tongue worked its way up from the base. A grunt escaped past Steve’s gritted teeth as you traced along the prominent vein. Another followed when you swirled your tongue around the tip and across the slit. His salty taste was heavy on your tongue. 

“Don’t tease, honey. I know you want to take all of me in your mouth, practically choke yourself on my cock,” His fingers slid through the roots of your hair to grip the stands at the back of your head. “That’s why you’ve been so mouthy.”

He firmly tugged your head back, your jaw slackened with a gasp, “Steve—”

“Shut up,” Steve snarled. He lightly began to rut his hips, his cock prodding at your lips and face. You stuck out your tongue, mouthing at him from any angle you could access. The sight was incredibly lewd, the way his cock continued to smear your spit and his essence across your face. His cocky smirk returned as he examined your appearance, “God, all you needed was some dick. Acting like a bitch in heat. Keep going.”

And you didn’t have to be told twice. Steve’s words of encouragement spurred you to take things further. Your right hand trailed up the inseam of his jeans, fingers ghosting the length of his thigh. When you took the tip into your mouth again, your hand moved to cup his balls, gently fondling them. His hips stuttered, wanting to force you to take more, but knowing you needed to get adjusted to the weight of him in your mouth. 

“Relax your jaw,” He ordered, his nails scratching against your scalp. Steve made small rocking movements, the tip of his length bruising against the back of your throat. Drool started to pool at the corners of your lips, collecting to ease the intrusion of his cock. He soon pushed your head to take more of his impressive length down your throat. 

When the pressure of him was too much, you patted his thigh as your hand lightly squeezed his balls. Your mouth came off with a soft pop as you caught your breath for a moment. Your free hand continued to pump his length, eyes steady on each other. 

Steve’s fingers caught your chin, “Open wide.”

You did as he commanded, your pink tongue peeking out at your head tilted back. Steve bent over you, face hovering above yours. A string of saliva poured from his lips and onto your awaiting tongue. His foot moved between your thighs, the toe of his boot firm against your clothed core, “Show me how sorry you are. Show me that you’re not such a fucking brat all the damn time.”

You began to rock your hips against his boot, chasing a touch of relief. Yet you weren’t paying enough attention to Steve. He pushed your mouth back onto his length, holding your head in place for a moment as you drooled all over his cock. When he felt your throat relax, his guided you up and down his length, your free hand pumping the remainder of what your couldn’t take. As he continued the assault on your mouth, your hips were greedily grinding away against his boot. You both knew the scene of completely obscene, but you were so caught up in the tension of the moment that the lustful mix of frustration and need kept both of you going. 

“Fuck. Fuck, honey,” Steve’s thrusts started to become sloppier, shallower. You knew he wouldn't last much longer, and you were determined to make him crumble. 

You doubled your efforts, alternating between pumping his cock, greedily sucking, and worshipping his balls. His hands released your hair, gripping at the countertop instead, knuckles white. His grunts had melted away into whines of restraint, restraint that was fading fast. With a few more messy thrusts, Steve’s cum shot down your throat, some of his spend dribbling down your chin as he pulled out. 

When Steve returned to his senses, he quickly tucked his length back into his boxers. He took a deep breath and snagged some napkins off the counter. He kneeled to meet your needy gaze, “You alright, sweetheart? Too rough?”

Your eyes flicked across his handsome face. A shaky hand reached to curl your fingers into the material of his sweater, “Green.”

He let out a low chuckle and pressed a quick kiss to your forehead. His gentle hands wiped at the corners of your lips, under your nose, and the waterline of your eyes, “There you go, sweetheart.”

He walks to the kitchen instead, and you hear the violent crack of an ice tray being twisted, the hard clatter of cubes hitting glass.

“Bad day?” you ask gently when he comes back to the living room.

He lets out a short, sharp laugh. “Is there another kind?” He doesn’t look at you. “Just… don’t, okay? Don’t do the understanding girlfriend thing tonight. I can’t stand it.”

You don’t flinch. You just nod, watching him. “Okay. What can I do?” You don't add that you'd do anything for him to feel better. He probably knows it already.

Steve finally looks at you, and the frustration in his eyes is a live wire. “Nothing. There is literally nothing you can do. My dad called to remind me I’m a disappointment. Keith scheduled me for a closing shift after an opening for no goddamn reason. My head feels like it’s splitting in two."

His words are meant to push you away, to hurt you because he’s hurting. But you won't let him push you away.

"So let me help you carry it," you say quietly. "Please. That’s what I’m here for.”

He stares at you for a long, silent moment. The air in the room tightens. “Help me carry it?” he repeats, his tone dripping with a disdain so sharp it makes your breath catch.

"You want to help? You can't. You're not built for it. You're built to sit there and look concerned and absorb," he continues, his gaze dissecting you. "That's your whole function. You're a emotional pet."

The insult is so mean that your vision actually swarms for a second. A pet. Steve thinks of you as that?

"And I'm sick of having to tend to you, sick of having to manage your disappointment that I'm not happier, that I'm not better for you." He watches the pain flicker over your face.

You want to protest, to tell him that's not true, but your throat has closed.

He shakes his head, a dismissive jerk. "You don't get it," he says, and his voice is low, flat, drained. "You never have. All your little questions. Your little suggestions. Your little worried looks. They don't do anything. They're just... noise."

Your heart aches with this horrible pain that makes you feel nauseous. The warmth has drained from your face, leaving you cold and numb.

"So do us both a favour, and stop trying. Stop with your little attempts at trying to make me feel better. Just be quiet. Be still. Or better yet," Steve says, straightening up, his gaze sweeping over you with a finality that chills your blood, "just be gone."

For one more second, you remain. A statue of hurt in his living room. Then, without a word, you turn. You walk to the hall closet, take your coat, and open the front door.

You don't look back.

The door clicks shut behind you.

Steve stands in the sudden, absolute silence of his living room. The quiet he demanded.

It’s awful.

He was mean. God, he was so mean, to bright, innocent, perfect you, who doesn't deserve his anger, not in the slightest.

He stares at the space where you’d been standing. He can still see the exact way your expression had shut down, like a light switching off behind your eyes. You hadn’t cried. You hadn’t yelled. You’d just… accepted it. And that was worse.

Emotional pet.

The words curdle in his stomach. He called you a pet. He reduced your kindness, your steady love, the very thing he craved most in the world, to the function of a dumb animal waiting for a scrap of affection.

A low, wounded sound escapes him. He sinks onto the arm of the couch, his head dropping into his hands.

He sits there for a long time, motionless in the dark. The silence he created is a loud, accusing thing. It gives him nowhere to hide from the replay in his mind.

Steve doesn't sob.

He just sits there, letting the tears fall, silent and relentless, dripping onto his jeans. He cries for the horrible pressure of his life. He cries for the easy target you’d become. But mostly, he cries because he knows, with a certainty that hollows him out, that he might have just broken the one pure, good thing he’d ever managed to hold onto. And he has no one to blame but himself.

He doesn’t move to wipe them away. He lets them fall. It feels like the only honest thing he’s done all night.

Hours pass. The streetlamp outside casts long, skeletal shadows across the floor. He’s shivering, but he doesn’t get up. He’s punishing himself by staying in the exact spot where he destroyed everything.

Destroyed you.

Then, a key scrapes in the lock.

His breath hitches, his whole body going rigid.

The door opens. Soft footsteps. The gentle shush of a coat being hung up. He doesn’t dare look.

You walk into the living room. You don't look at him, hunched and broken on the couch. Your own face is carefully blank, but your eyes are red-rimmed, the only evidence of the silent storm you’d weathered alone in your car. You saw him crying. Your heart, already shattered, had cracked into even smaller, more painful pieces.

You hadn't planned on coming back inside, but you do.

You move to the kitchen. Not to hide, but to do what you do. What you’ve always done. The tap runs. You open the aspirin bottle, shake two into your palm. You take the glass of water you’d poured and walk back to him.

You stand in front of him. Steve finally lifts his head, his face ravaged with tears and shame. He opens his mouth, but no sound comes out.

You don’t speak either. You simply hold out your hand, shaking, the two white pills sitting in the center of your palm.

An offering. A habit. A terrible, loving reflex he no longer deserves.

He stares at your hand, then at your face. The kindness there, even threaded with so much hurt, is worse than any slap. He takes the pills with trembling fingers, his touch brushing your skin. You flinch, just a tiny, almost imperceptible recoil.

He wants to cry again.

You hand him the water. He takes it, his eyes never leaving yours, drinking under your silent, weary observation. When he’s done, you take the empty glass back.

Then you kneel in front of him. He flinches, expecting… he doesn’t know what. Instead, you reach for his shoes. Your hands, usually so sure, fumble with the laces. Your fingers are shaking. You set them neatly aside.

You stand, motioning for him to lie down. He obeys without a sound, stretching out on the couch. You disappear again, returning with the soft throw blanket from the armchair. You drape it over him, tucking it around his shoulders with a soft care that you've always lended him, expecting nothing in return.

Every movement is precise. Every action is love. You are taking care of him, thoroughly, completely, while your own soul bleeds out quietly inside you.

You sit on the floor beside the couch, just as you had when he was in the armchair earlier, but now your back is to him.

The space between your spine and the couch feels like a mile.

Steve lies under the blanket, watching the tense line of your shoulders, the way you won’t let yourself touch him.

He can’t stand it.

His voice, when it comes, is ruined. Raspy from disuse and tears. “You came back.”

It’s not a question. It’s a statement of awe and profound shame. You don’t turn. You don’t answer.

Steve swallows hard, the sound loud in the quiet room. “You shouldn’t have.” A beat. “I didn’t think you would.”

He pushes himself up on one elbow, the blanket pooling at his waist. He’s a mess—hair wild, eyes swollen, shirt wrinkled from where he’d been crying into it. He looks at the back of your head.

“I called you a pet,” he whispers, the words foul in his mouth. “I told you to get out. I meant it… in the moment, I meant to hurt you. I wanted to.” He confesses it like he’s pulling out a poison dart. “Because you were there. And you were good. And I am so... not."

You close your eyes tight, but you can't block it out. The words find their mark all over again, fresh and brutal. Your heart doesn't just ache; it seizes, a tight, physical cramp of pain high in your chest.

It's the hurt of betrayal, sharp and clean, but beneath it is a deeper, more desolate ache—the grief for what you thought you had, the safety you felt that has now been revealed as fragile.

“Stop,” you whisper, the word so soft it’s almost inaudible. You press the heels of your hands against your closed eyelids. “Please, just… stop talking.”

The plea slices through his confession. He falls silent, the poison dart half-pulled, his own guilt choking him.

You take a shaky breath, your voice trembling as you keep your back to him. “I heard you the first time. I felt it. I don’t… I can’t hear it again right now. It hurts too much.”

Steve hears the pain in your voice, the way it scrapes over the words. It’s a different kind of devastation than your earlier silence.

This is the sound of the wound, exposed and bleeding.

“Okay,” he breathes, the word full of shattered remorse. “Okay. I’m sorry. I’ll stop.”

The silence returns, but it’s charged now with your request. It’s a silence you asked for, to protect the pieces of yourself that are left. He respects it. He doesn’t try to fill it with more apologies or explanations. He just lies back down, the blanket feeling less like a comfort and more like a shroud.

You stay on the floor, your hands now limp in your lap, staring at nothing. The hurt is a living thing between you, a third presence in the room. Steve can’t fix it with words. He can only lie there in the wreckage of his own making, and you can only sit beside it, guarding your broken heart.

The love is still there, a battered, bleeding thing, but for now, the only thing to do is to not make the hurt worse.

And so, in the dark, you both hold perfectly still.

“Woah Lea, when did you get so fast?” Steve called, playfully slowing his run so the little girl would actually have a chance against him. “If you keep this up, mommy and daddy have to eat their hot dogs all alone.”

“Nooo, I want some too!” Lea spun around, tackling her dad in the process and making you laugh. Together, they fell into the grass and Steve lifted her up over his head, groaning in defeat as she wiggled on top of him.

“I gotcha, now come on, let’s eat with mommy.”

This was what life was supposed to be like.

Steve kissed your cheek as he slid down on the seat next to you after plating dinner straight from the grill, your daughter singing a happy tune in her chair. You had known for half your life that Steve was the one for you; you just hadn’t dreamed that it was actually going to be this perfect.

“Do you want some ketchup, honey?”

“Nooo.”

“See?” You grinned at Steve. “Your daughter knows what’s good, there’s way too much sugar in it anyway.”

Steve sighed dramatically, plating Lea and you some potato salad as well. “Alright, I’m outnumbered, I see. How about some salad?”

“Yes!”

Steve snorted, winking at you before he ruffled Lea’s hair in affection. “Truly your kid through and through.”

Over the past years, Steve had transformed in front of your eyes into the most wonderful dad. From the moment he first held her in the hospital with tears running down his face, he had taken an oath to protect you and her for the rest of his life.

He was also just a really fun dad.

And every day, you kept falling more and more in love with both him and your little mini-me.

Later, dishes were washed and clothes were changed and it wasn’t long until Steve and you snuck out of Lea’s room after bedtime story time. Maybe it was the way your sundress had flown into the wind outside today or just Steve being insanely in love with you, but before you even reached the living room, you found yourself pressed against the wall, gasping in surprise against his lips.

“God, you’re so beautiful, you drive me insane.” Steve muttered between kisses, his hands all over you as you threw your arms around his shoulders and stood on your tiptoes to reach him better. “Been thinking all day about loving you. In class, grading papers, listening to the other teacher’s boring stories…”

“Really?” You hummed, head falling back blissfully as Steve’s mouth latched onto your neck and suckled. “It’s not very exemplary to be distracted at work, Mr. Harrington.”

Steve growled, his hands reaching underneath your thighs and lifting, still very much busy with spoiling your neck with kisses as he walked you over to the couch.

Oh, he looked hungry as he slid over you, your fingers disappearing into his hair and pulling him down into a searing kiss that promised so much more than bucking your hips up into him and chasing the delicious friction.

“I’m gonna show you exemplary, baby.” Steve murmured, letting his hands wander over you like he was trying to map out every inch, although you already belonged completely to him.

Your kisses turned messier until gasps and moans were echoing through the living room and soon, clothes littered the floor and the rest of the evening blurred together in pleasure and the love you shared…

It started small.

If your late teen years hadn’t been filled with monsters and horror, other dark dimensions and heartbreak, maybe you would’ve simply walked past your daughter’s room that night. After all, little kids – especially only children – were more than creative when it came to playing.

But all rationality inside of you simply seeped away when you walked down the hallway, a basket of fresh laundry on your hip and a happy tune on your tongue, when you heard her mumble.

Your steps slowed, the sudden quietness of the house creeping up your spine in a chill. Your daughter’s door was barely ajar. But then, just when you thought you might’ve imagined it, you heard her quiet laughter, followed by another whispered sentence. Quietly underneath her breath like it was a secret no one else understood.

The laundry basket fell to the floor.

You barely even blinked before you threw open the pink door and burst into Lea’s room.

Instantly, you threw your head back, frantically scanning the ceiling, the corners, stalking over to rip away the softly flowing curtains by the windows. There were no thoughts in your head, just pure instinct, and while it was like a déjà vu, it was nothing like what you experienced in your youth.

This time, you had a daughter.

So much more to lose. And protect from danger.

“Mommy?”

Your eyes finally landed on Lea, still sitting criss-cross apple sauce on the fluffy play carpet. Around her was a wild assemble of dolls and colorful bricks, some items from her play general store booth in the corner too. She looked up at you with big, confused eyes, one of her beloved plushies staring back at you accusingly from her lap.

She was alone.

Completely unbothered and perfectly safe.

You took a very deep breath.

And when you could still feel your heart pounding like crazy, you took another before you sank onto the floor in front of her, trying your best at a genuine smile as you smoothed your hands over her soft, brown hair. In moments like these, she looked so much like Steve it made you want to cry with gratitude for the life you had been given.

“Hi baby.” You said, a little shaky. “Is everything okay? I heard you talk?”

“I was just telling a story!” She told you conspiratorially and despite it all, you found yourself nodding, at a loss for words as you shifted closer and pulled your little daughter into your lap. She went effortlessly, snuggling into your front while squishing her teddy between you and her.

“You want to let me in on the joke?” You asked her, the tension seeping out of you at her giggle and when she did, you silently scolded yourself for freaking out like this. God, what must you have looked like for her, storming into her room like a lunatic?

“You’re not a lunatic.” Steve told you in the evening, his hand on your back rubbing comforting circles into your skin having stopped to gently lift your chin so you would look at him.

You were sitting on the couch together, two abandoned glasses on the table in front of you. Down the hall, Lea was already asleep and in dreamland. You had chewed on these thoughts all day long, but now with Lea out like a light and your Steve listening to you, there was nothing holding you back from sharing your anxieties.

“I feel like one though.” You bit your lip and leaned into his touch, playing with your hands in your lap. “It was just so- the moment I heard her talk to no one, it just- It all came back. And I saw all these kids and the vines and I couldn’t…I haven’t thought about it in so long, Steve. What if it’s-“

“Hey, hey, no no no, baby, don’t even go there, okay?” Steve interrupted you softly and you closed your eyes in defeat, your entire body going slack as Steve pulled you into his arms and his unique scent hit your nose. He smelled of freshly mowed grass from the baseball field and chalk, his usual cologne having almost disappeared over the course of the day.

You closed your eyes while resting your cheek over his heart, gladly letting yourself be held by him like this and clinging to his shirt like a lifeline. “I feel so bad…I probably scared her, but I also can’t stop worrying.”

The unspoken levitated over both of you like a dark cloud.

It had been years since the last fight, since that day where Mr. Whatsit – Vecna – had come to steal the kids. But you still remembered the helpless feeling of having to watch the military take away the kids, the same kids you used to play with during your internship at the school. The first time you had seen Holly Wheeler stand at the fence and talk to thin air.

“I know, baby.” Steve soothed you, still holding you and not letting go anytime soon. He felt you tremble, the anxiety from earlier still shooting through you like lightning. “I understand, believe me. But I bet it was probably just a game she’s been playing. Hell, I’m an only child and I remember chattering to myself all day long when my parents weren’t there. I think it’s only normal.”

“Really?” You looked up at him, feeling miserable and guilty.

Steve nodded and tenderly kissed your forehead, his lips lingering a moment before he drew back just enough to echo you. “Really.”

The next time it happened, you and Lea were visiting the playground.

It was one of the nicer ones in Hawkins and Lea’s favorite, lots of green and a big wooden castle standing in the center. There were lots of benches and none of the other moms you had gotten to know were here today, so you opened your book and smiled at the old polaroid of you and Steve, a silly snapshot of you kissing his cheek on his first day at Scoops Ahoy. He got the whole outfit on, smiling dreamily at the camera.

Looking up, you saw Lea play with a few kids by the slide before you decided to read some pages.

The next time you looked for her, she was gone.

The sand toys were still laying by the slide, little footsteps in the sand showing you the way as you left your bag behind. Your mind was completely silent, only the sound of your own unsteady breath accompanying you as you took a look inside of the play castle.

Empty.

A few kids were laughing by the swings, but not a trace of that sunshine laughter.

The wind rustled through the apple trees by the edge of the playground and just as you were about to call for her, you heard her. Saw her.

Lea was standing in a corner of the playground, giggling as she reached for something that you couldn’t see, something that wasn’t there. She chattered the same way she did when telling Steve what she had all done at kindergarten, serious and very detailed, mixed with a little bit of endearing nonsense.

But no one was there.

No one you could see, at least.

You started to run before you even knew what your feet were doing, the world narrowing down to the little girl in dungarees and ponytails with cherry hair ties.

“Lea!” You didn’t even recognize your own voice, the panic laced with sudden anger scaring yourself just as much as it scared her. Two seconds later, you were with her, reaching for her with shaking hands and dragging until she didn’t stand at the fence anymore. “Lea, you know you have to stay in my eyesight, how am I supposed to know where you are when you steal yourself away like this?”

Fuck, you sounded frustrated, far angrier than anything you had ever said to her.

“But I was just playing!” Lea whined back instantly, shaking your hand off her shoulder and stomping on the ground, just as frustrated as you were. For a moment, both of you were glaring at each other, unwilling to see each other’s point.

But then, you saw a flicker of uncertainty in her eyes and something inside of you softened.

You never wanted to be the mother who’d scare her own child because you were scared.

There were several kids going on with their way right now, a bunch of rascals Steve and you knew all too well, who had taught you how to be brave and fearless.

You knew better than to take the wrong path.

I think it’s only normal. Steve’s words echoed through your mind and you blinked, snapping out of the haze that had thrown itself over you like a red veil. You took a look over Lea’s shoulder, at the flower bushes she must’ve taken curiosity in. Normal.

You sighed, bending down a little further so you and her were eye to eye and she could feel seen. “I’m sorry, Lea, I should not have snapped at you like this. But you know I like to keep an eye on you, even if you’re just playing, right? Maybe you can tell me the next time you want to explore something, just so I know, okay?”

Lea seemed to think about your words for a moment and you sat it out, letting her form her own thoughts and emotions about this. But then, Lea grinned and slid her hand into yours, already having moved on. “It’s okay, mommy. I will, sorry. Will you push me on the swing?”

“Oh of course, I would love nothing more.”

For a while, things were normal again.

There were lots of car drives, oranges and doughnuts – Steve’s and Lea’s favorite – and taking trips to the driving range and watching as Steve carefully braided her hair for the first time.

But then, Steve started to notice it too.

With a few days off work and baseball team duties, Steve relished the additional time with you and Lea more than anything else in the world. In the mornings, he let you sleep in and convinced Lea to make breakfast for the three of you, making pancakes and singing with her in the kitchen. There were trips into the forest and lots of ice cream, probably way more than a toddler should have, but how could he ever refuse his baby girl, really?

He was relieved to see you more at ease again, too, and his heart stopped every time when you smiled at him so carefreely, your happiness always being the key to his own.

But with more time he spent with Lea during his break, the more little details he caught up on.

Her hushed whispers before he would knock and ask if she was done on the potty.

Quiet laughter and mumbles when he got up from her bed with a groan to pick out another story book from her shelf.

Once, after he had put Lea in the car seat and rounded the truck to get in himself, he opened the door and she was already talking and laughing at her own joke like it was the funniest thing in the world.

On any other day, Steve would’ve laughed with her.

But he couldn’t help but let doubt creep in.

Today, you were out with your girlfriends and Lea and he had the house to themselves.

Steve had spent all morning long playing with Lea and the pretty doll house she got for last Christmas and he had fixed a ripped stitch on one of her dolls before making lunch. He had tied her shoes and made sure the lawn was not slippery anymore from the overnight rain before sending her outside.

Then, he sat down by the kitchen table to go through some grades until the sun stood high and he grabbed two glasses of fresh lemonade.

“Lea, I got some lemonade for us!” He called into the wide garden behind the house, blinking against the warm sun. “And don’t worry, this time it’s extra sweet, daddy’s learned his lesson. Where are you silly girl?”

The moment he and you had seen the house, you had instantly fallen in love with the quietness, only the rustling of the trees and the chirping birds audible sometimes. It was peaceful, the perfect place to settle down and start your little family.

But right now? Silence had never sounded so terrifying to him.

“Sweetie, where are you?”

The sandbox he had built last summer was abandoned and so was the tree house. Only the gaping endless green of the forest by the property line. And the trees…it was like they were talking.

“Lea!”

Suddenly, he was twenty again and screaming into the walkie-talkie when he had lost connection to you during a crawl. Suddenly, he was surrounded by darkness again and couldn’t breathe, not knowing, not fast enough. Not strong enough to protect the one thing he could not survive without.

A vision shot through him, buried deep in the back of his mind.

You, crying in his arms over the missing kids, inconsolable over the nightmare that had become your life.

Steve ran.

Panic shot through his system like electricity.

No.

No, no, no, no, no, no-

This couldn’t be happening. Not again, not like this, not to her. What would he even tell you, what would he tell the others, fuck, this could not be happening. It had ended and it was long over, there was no way, it wasn’t possible, what would he even do, his own little daughter, what would he tell you-

“Daddy look, I found a cool-looking st-“

“Oh my god.” Steve nearly sobbed and fell on his knees right there, breathless and shaking while Lea simply smiled at him from the raspberry bushes near the garden shed. He rushed over, falling into the soil beneath her feet and frantically looking her over.

When she was smaller, he used to count all her little fingers and toes, over and over again just to make sure. You’d laugh at him but snuggled into his shoulder as you baby-watched for hours.

“Are you okay, are you hurt?” Steve cradled her close, the horror wearing off only slowly as he felt his daughter’s weight leaning into him.

“Noo, I’m not hurt, daddy.” She seemed to be ridiculed why he’d even ask that. The precious little girl in his arms only knew scrapes and maybe a bruised knee from playing too much. Not the things Steve had gone through, the both of you had seen and suffered from.

“Why didn’t you answer me, I called for you, Lea.” He couldn’t even be stern to her, too relieved to find her still in reach and perfectly fine. “You can’t just hide and not tell me, honey. Daddy was scared.”

Lea furrowed his brows at him, not understanding. “I didn’t hear…”

A shaky sigh left him and Steve leaned back on his haunches, not ready yet to let her go.

“Do you want a raspberry, daddy?”

When you came home in the afternoon, Lea was sitting on the carpet in the living room, very concentrated on building a brick tower and letting you kiss her head with a toothy smile that reminded you of your husband’s favorite kid back in the day. Or still to this day, really.

Steve had his back to you as he worked in the kitchen, cutting up vegetables for dinner, and when you slung your arms around his waist and gave the space between his shoulder blades a loving kiss, something inside of him went slack.

“How was your day with Lea?” You asked, your smile dropping as he turned around to you.

Silent, devastating tears slid down his cheeks and it was like the floor simply disappeared under your feet. You knew Steve just as well as you knew yourself; he had kept this in for a while now, probably living with the pressure on his chest for hours until it was safe enough with you to unveil.

“What happened?” You whispered and pulled him close.

After that day, something changed.

And without even noticing at first, the two of you began to spiral.

There came a night where you woke up in the darkness, the usual warmth of Steve’s chest against your bed gone. Dazed and only half-conscious, your hand felt around on the other side of the bed, only to find the sheets crinkled and cold.

Your nightgown dragged over the floor in the hallway as you briefly peeked into the empty bathroom until you quietly opened Lea’s door. The pastel pink nightlight on her bedside table was still on, illuminating the room in a soft glow. You still remembered the day you painted the walls with Steve, sitting on his shoulders so you could reach the top corner.

Now, you froze in the doorframe at the sight in front of you.

Lea was sound asleep in her bed, all her plushies watching over her.

But there was another guardian with her.

Steve sat on the floor in front of her bed, legs spread out and circles underneath his eyes as he blinked up at you, looking as if you just had caught him doing something forbidden. A moment of silence passed between the two of you before you spoke.

“What are you doing on the floor?” You whispered underneath your breath, folding your arms in front of you to hide the tremble in them.

“I…” Steve reached up and brushed through his hair, shaking his head as if he couldn’t believe himself. “I just wanted to make sure she was okay? I woke up feeling strange and- I don’t know, I’m being stupid here…”

“Hey…” You said softly, silently walking over and kneeling down before him.

Steve avoided your gaze, jaw working as he stared at his hands like they held an answer. There was a time when Lea was only a few weeks old where Steve feared she was going to choke at night and neither of you would notice and he’d stay up half of the night to watch over her.

Now, he sat in front of Lea’s bed for a whole different reason.

And god, your heart ached because- You understood.

“She’s okay, see?” The two of you looked at Lea, sprawled out on the bed with her teddy tucked into her side. “So sleepy and probably dreaming of unicorns or endless cookie jars.”

The corner of Steve’s mouth lifted, but only briefly. “I’ll just…you go to bed, okay? You had a long day, I’m just gonna stay a little longer.”

You knew if you were in his place, he wouldn’t make you leave.

And so, you gave him a soft kiss and went to bed again where sleep didn’t come.

It bled into your routine, the overthinking. The overprotectiveness.

Followed you into your dreams, even.

“Holly? Who are you talking to?” You looked at the fence in front of the school. No one there. At least no one you could see. Steve’s tense smile before a crawl, blood on kitchen tiles and Nancy’s sobbing echoing in your ears. Running and fighting, arguing along with Dustin at Steve, the latter falling. Steve, falling. The stench of rot and something foreign, closed little eyes and the pumping sound that made you want to vomit. The kids. The kids. Their little mouths attached to vines. “Who are you talking to? No one’s there.”

You shot up, gasping into the darkness of the bedroom.

There was not enough air in your lungs, your hands fisting the sheets clammy and mind disoriented.

The blanket rustled and a warm present was at your side in an instant, his arm coming to rest easy around your shoulders while the other gently pried off your hand from the sheets.

“Shh, you’ve had a bad dream, baby.” Steve whispered soothingly, his thumb rubbing steady circles into your palm. “It’s not real, I’m here with you…that’s it, nice and easy, just take deep breaths with me.”

Your eyes found him in the dark, fixated on the calmness in them and mirroring his deep in- and exhales. Slowly, your shuddering breaths became deeper and the tremble disappeared from your limbs.

But still, you were caught between your nightmare and reality, not sure yet if you were out.

“Steve-…Lea?”

“In her bed, sleeping. We’re okay, love. Everything’s fine.”

Still, your stomach churned dangerously. “I feel like I’m gonna throw up…”

Steve’s eyes widened before he scrambled off the bed, quickly looking around the room before he reached for a broad flower vase and hurried back to you. The flowers were discarded on his night stand and he was just at your side again before you hunched over.

Hot tears ran down your cheek as you threw up, Steve an ever-present source of comfort beside you. He mumbled soothing words into your hair as he held you, unbothered by the sounds and smell. Steve was only focused on you, not leaving you out of sight until eventually you resurfaced for air and took a deep breath.

“Hey…” He took your face in your hands and brushed the remaining trail of tears away for you, his expression so soft you wanted to cry all over again. “You okay? Want me to get you some water?”

You shook your head. “I’m just gonna go rinse my mouth and check Lea’s room...” You said flatly, but just as you wanted to get up, Steve touched your wrist.

“Don’t do that.” Steve pleaded with you. “I mean- not that, just…don’t pull away from me when I know you need me. And I need you. Will you sit with me, for just a moment?”

You sighed, sinking back down onto the mattress and looking down into your lap.

“This can’t go on like this, baby.” Steve sighed, his hand caressing your back grounding you in the here and now. “We’ve gotta figure out how we deal with this, I can’t stand to see you in pain…”

“I know, sorry.” You sniffled, hiding your face in his neck like you were still seventeen and in need of your boyfriend.

“No, don’t be sorry. There’s nothing to be sorry for.” Steve assured you quickly, followed by a kiss to your nose that made warmth spread through you. “I know exactly how you’re feeling. Fuck, I’m just as concerned as you are, but this isn’t good for us. And not good for Lea in the long run. She doesn’t know all of that shit has happened to us. She’s just a kid.”

That’s what broke you in the end and you couldn’t help but start to cry against Steve’s chest. “I’m just so worried. What if it’s really Vecna? I can’t- I can’t go through this again, I can’t lose her, Steve, it would break me-“

Stebe blinked up against the ceiling, still holding you as he blinked back tears and bit the inside of his cheek. “I know, I know, baby, but we’re not going to lose her. We’re gonna figure this out, okay? Together, like we always do.”

You nodded back, squeezing back his hand. “Together.”

You were restless for the whole day before the conversation came.

Steve had taken Lea to baseball practice with him, dressed in the tiniest Cubs tricot he could find for her. In the meantime, you had spoken to Nancy on the phone, sharing your and Steve’s worries and getting the advice from a girlfriend you had really needed.

A few days earlier, Robin had stopped by for two days and she had also talked to Steve about it over the bonfire he had made for everyone, little Lea asleep in her lap while everyone ate the last smores over the fire.

Once again, it was proven how sometimes you only needed your friends to think clearer and be brave.

You took a deep breath.

“Lea, daddy and I wanted to talk to you about something.”

Your daughter sat in one of the big armchairs by the window front, a big picture book Jonathan had gotten her for her birthday open in her lap. At your words, she looked up at you with wide innocent eyes. “Have I done something bad?”

“No sweetie, not at all.” You shook your head, grateful for the two chairs Steve had pulled up for you to take a seat on. “It’s just something that’s been on our minds and we wanted to hear your thoughts about it too.”

Your voice cracked at the end and Steve placed his hand on your thigh, wordlessly taking over so you could gather yourself. “Remember the day where I couldn’t find you in the garden? Or the playground?”

Lea nodded, but Steve seemed to think she was too far away so he carefully hoisted her up so she could sit comfortably on his knee. “Well, mommy and I have been noticing that you often do that lately and sometimes you…talk? Is that right, you talk to yourself and laugh but we don’t really know why and we just wanted to know if there maybe was a friend you’re making up for yourself or…if there’s just anything you would like to tell us?”

“We’re not mad, baby, we just want to know so we can understand and laugh with you the next time.” You gave her an encouraging smile and let her think about it. Her hair was down today, the same shade of brown as Steve’s, the best parts of both of you visible in her.

“I like telling stories.” Lea said eventually. “But there is no one I tell them to, just me, mommy.”

Steve and you were silent for a moment, sharing a hopeful look.

“So when you were talking to yourself, there was no one near you? Someone we don’t know or someone offering candy or wanting to go somewhere else with you without mommy and I?” Steve asked again, needing to be sure.

Lea giggled. “No, daddy. That’s silly. It’s just playing pretend, it’s not real.”

“Would you tell us if you ever see a stranger who wants to talk with you, baby?”

“Of course, daddy.” Lea nodded dutifully and you reached over and took her little hand in yours and smiled at her.

“Okay.” Steve kissed her rosy cheek, the relief so big you could feel it in your chest. “We’re really happy to hear that, Lea.”

“I’m just been telling stories, because it’s lonely.”

Steve’s hand on your back stilled, the two of you sharing a look again.

Had you not been paying her enough attention lately?

“I’m sorry, baby, I know we’ve been a little busy…” You said regretfully, but your clever little daughter was quick to interrupt you.

“Maybe daddy and you can have another baby!” Lea beamed like it was the greatest idea anyone in the whole history of humanity ever had. “I could tell stories and share my toys, it would be hella cool.”

You snorted, willing the sudden blush on your cheek away as Steve was still transfixed on his daughter. “Where did you learn the word hella?”

“Aunt Robin.”

“Of course.” Steve breathed out, just as red in the face as you were.

“So when are you gonna have another baby?”

That night, the three of you were all cuddled up together on the couch, cartoons still running on mute on the TV screen.

Lea was nestled into Steve’s side, slowly but surely drooling on his shirt in her sleep, the teddy she loved so much squished between them underneath the blanket. You were on her other side, somehow still being held by Steve with your whole world between both of you.

Steve thought to himself that this could happily be the rest of his life. Just being there for his two girls. Or…more kids?

You exhaled softly, laughing underneath your breath as Steve lovingly tucked back some hair from your hair. “Who knew she only really wanted someone to play with? I feel so silly now.”

“Yeah…” Steve was lost in thought for a moment, chewing on his lip. “About what Lea said…I just wanted you to know that there is no pressure or anything. I always knew I wanted to have multiple kids, but if that’s not something you want anymore, I’m totally fine with-“

“Steve.” You cut him off in a whisper, your heart pounding all the way up into your throat as you leaned over and softly kissed him. He instantly melted into you, a quiet moment passing between you like this. When you pulled back, you added: “I want to have more kids, too. And if Lea’s so eager to have a sibling…”

“Yeah? That’s what you want?” Steve sounded breathless, a happy grin spreading on his face and brightening the dimly lit living room. “One more little nugget?”

You nodded eagerly. “Yes. And…who knows what the future holds. Maybe even more little Harringtons running around? This house certainly is big enough.”

This time, he was the one to kiss you.

There was so much love in the devotion in it, it made your head swim with happiness when Steve rested his forehead against yours.

“I’m always going to take care of you and our family, you know?” Steve swore to you. “No matter what, I’ll always be there, making sure we’re all good and happy and safe.”

“I know. I love you. So much.”

It has been two weeks since you came back to the land of the living, and already you were wishing you were dead again.

Everyday without fail, Steve would visit you, coat snug around his shoulders and shaking, red hand holding a coffee that he bought for you. 

You wanted to hate him, you really did, but it just wasn’t fair. You hated how he looked at Kristen the way he used to look at you, passionate and soulful, as if he had something to believe in. Maybe you were jealous of Kristen, or maybe you were jealous that Steve actually had something worth living for.

All you had was Hattie. And to a grieving mother, that was enough.

The only perk of being in a coma for many years (albeit fake years which were merely days in the real world) was that you got to experience being a young adult again. Maybe it wasn’t too late to give up on Steve…

The rattling of the door handle to your room wakes you up, and you immediately know it’s steve. Rich, smooth cocoa fills your lungs as you sigh wistfully, wishing you could get high on the smell, as Steve tentatively approaches you, coat bundled around his shoulders and foam coffee cup in his freezing hand.

“Hey… how are you?” he asks softly, sitting on the chair placed next to your bed.

After your outburst that day two weeks ago, Steve was noticeably a lot more careful around you, and made sure to avoid being Kristen around you.

“I’m fine.” You blandly respond, reaching to chug the coffee.

“Hey, be careful! It’s hot.” Steve helps you sit up and guides the styrofoam to your lips. The coffee is drowned out by him; your senses are too overwhelmed. 

You lean in to inhale his scent, Steve not minding it. God, you seem like such a creep, but who could blame you? How can somebody expect you to let go of the greatest thing that had happened to you, even if it hadn’t been real. At least what you felt had been real, and to you that was enough.

You both bask in the silence of the room as he runs his hand through your hair. To him it may just be a means of comforting a friend, but to you it’s everything. It’s the love surging through your body; snapping awake and coiling in eager patterns below your skin, begging eagerly for attention from its perceived destiny.

Kristen is not here. Kristen is not the one Steve is comforting when the world is on the brink of ending. You must win back Steve. For Hattie. For yourself.

@friedunknownphantom @theallisonkeery @maxverstrappentwink @aprilludgate357 @justtmaria @bmyva1entine @imsogonesposts

@onlyangel-444 @lillyyyy0108 @qardasngan

“Shh, sweetheart y-you’re okay.” Steve pleaded, fondling the back of your head with his hand, rocking you back and forth soothingly in his arms as you shaked — still wondering if this was all just part of vecna trying to play a trick on your mind again.

“S-Steve.” You whimpered, knuckles white, lips trembling and clinging onto his frame for dear life, heart pounding out of your chest and needing to feel his touch to make sure it was really him.

“You’re okay, he’s gone. All gone, honey.” He breathed, wiping the glistening tears from his rosy red cheeks as he pressed a rock-hard kiss to your forehead.

“It felt so r-real…” You trembled, eyes still bloodshot red, thinking about what vecna had told you, about the way you hide yourself from everyone and how you were such an easy target.

He knew just how to get to you.

“It’s okay, you’re safe. Y-You’re safe wirh me sweetheart.” He stammered over his words, not taking his eyes off of you.

“Holy shit, y-you’re okay.” Max interrupted, clutching her heart and breathing heavily.

“We thought you were dead meat!” Dustin confessed, clearly not reading the room.

Lucas didn't speak, too relieved to even mutter a single word.

“Real helpful here guys.” Steve huffed, directing his dig at dustin, taking the earphones off your head carefully — as if you were fragile and couldn't be at any risk of being broken.

“I-I, I thought it was the end.” You muttered, grasping at Steve like a baby koala, feeling like your lower body was suddenly paralysed.

“I told you I'd never let that happen to you.” Steve insisted, brushing a stray hair out of your face with wide eyes seeing how pale and drained your skin looked.

In the midst of slowly gravitating back into reality, Dustin spoke up.

“What happened? Y’know when he entered your mind? Was it like super cool?” He questioned, tiltiling his head and looking at you like the newest science experiment he was working on.

You instantly felt Steve’s whole entire body go extremely stiff.

“She almost just died and all you want to do is treat her like she’s some sort of lab rat?” He scoffed, disappointed in the extreme lack of empathy Dustin was showing.

“Dude.” Lucas commented, rolling his eyes.

“Let’s let her be, Steve will take care of her right?” Max spoke, giving you a tight embrace and whispering something only you heard in your ear.

“Y-Yeah, of course I will.” Steve acquiesced — still pissed from the way dustin treated you, giving her a firm nod and seeing them all return to the basement, leaving you and Steve all alone.

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The two of you hadn’t moved a muscle.

Your hands still slung around his waist, holding on tightly, the shaking stopping, but not completely.

The cold kitchen tiles you were legs were making contact with making you shiver.

“You wanna tell me what happened?” He finally murmured, making sure you were finally a bit calmed down, surveying you with concern as he softly caressed your jaw, holding you firmly in his lap.

“A lot.” You mumbled, staring into his dark brown eyes as he slightly raised his eyebrow.

“I can listen.” He admitted, brushing a loose hair behind your ear.

You began to tell him everything, from how vecna disguised himself as steve and tricked you, to how he transported you to all your happiest memories but made them absolute hell.

“He then took me to his mind, and it was terrifying, it was so dark and really really red…it was covered in ruins of what might of have been a house? And it looked like something out of a terrible nightmare.” You uttered, feeling your heart rate speed up a million miles per hour again just thinking about it.

“H-Hey, we can stop talking about this if you need.” He suggested, seeing the worried light in your eyes.

“Is that o-okay?” You asked, seeing as it was all just too much.

“Of course, don’t ever think it’s not. I should have never brought it up in the first place, I mean I thought it would help to…y’know let it all out? But I should have thought about you and i’m sorry and—“ He rambled, anxiously not stopping for a single breath.

“Steve.”

“It’s okay.” You giggled gently, seeing the surprised look on his face.

“Jesus, I should be the one worrying about you, not the other way around.” He sighed, wandering his hands up and down the sides of your waist, peering out the window and seeing how dark it was outside of the dim light of the kitchen.

“C’mon, you must be exhausted, i’ll take you home. Where you can sleep, and forget about all of this.” He spoke, standing up and holding his arm out for you to take ahold of.

Your legs felt like jelly, wobbling as you tried — key word tried — to stand up.

You fell back down immediately, staring back up at a smiley Steve.

“Need help, sweetheart?” He chuckled.

How could you say no when he looked and sounded like that?

You silently nodded as he picked you up, bridal style as if it was just something he casually did.

You weren’t complaining though, nuzzling into his neck and drowning everything else out — besides his quick pacing heartbeat that your ear was pressed against.

You were finally back in his arms, after so long of being all alone and just it felt so right.

The cold air blew againest your hair as he stepped outside, leaving the Wheeler’s house in the distance, the car only a few more metres away.

Steve wordlessly strapped you in, clicking the seatbelt in place before kissing a lingering peck to your cheek.

He went around to his side of the car, opening the door, getting into his seat and turning the engine on.

His hand found yours, intertwining them together as he left the other free to turn the steering wheel.

The drive was awfully quiet, comfortable silence filling the atmosphere. Well, beside’s Steve’s hand drumming on the console like he was a member of corroded coffin and him humming sounds he had heard on the radio earlier that day.

“When vecna was trying to kill me I thought about all of my memories.” You confessed, holding your hand out the window, feeling the slight breeze make you get goosebumps.

“My happy memories.” You clarified, seeing an old polaroid of you and steve in matching halloween costumes stuffed in his glovebox.

“You were there.”

“I was?” He beamed, trying to keep his eyes on the dark rocky road but failing terribly as you tried to confess how you felt.

“Every single one...” You trailed off, eyes focusing on anything but his face.

“What were they?” He remarked, giving your hand a small squeeze as he turned another corner.

“Just you being an idiot mostly.” You teased, as he let out a laugh.

“Oh really? Sounds like pretty good memories then.” He grinned like a proud kid who had just won a participation medal.

“Yeah, they really were.” You blushed turning the same red colour as his beamer.

“Y-You saved me Steve… You were my escape.” You blurted, bringing his hand up to your knee and playing with his fingers — a habit you only did when you were nervous.

“Oh baby,” He groaned, stopping the car just to get a good look at you.

“And it made me realise, I was such an idiot for letting you go.” You cried, tears falling onto your cheeks without any permission.

“Don’t cry my girl.” He frowned, pulling you over onto his lap without a ounce of hesitation.

“I love you Stevie, I—I never stopped.” You sobbed, getting his shirt saturated with your spiraling wet tears.

“Me either beautiful girl, never.” He responded, patting your back and letting you get all of your emotions out.

“I thought about letting him do it. Letting him kill me, but the sight of you, it made me want to live. You made me want to live.”

Steve didn’t have to say anything, his mouth drooping as he just did the only logical thing he could think off.

And that was kiss the shit out of you.

He let out a loud monumental groan — that the whole damn street could probably hear — as he crashed his lips against yours.

Where they always belonged.

The kiss wasn’t perfect, it was far from it.

It was messy. Teeth clashing, small giggles, and rain starting to trickle down onto the roof and car windows, as if you and Steve yourselves had caused it.

Your hands quickly found the small curly hairs on the back of his neck, grasping onto them and tugging them lightly causing him to moan.

I’m sorry are you sure—“ Steve mumbled, pulling back quickly, only to be interrupted by you dragging him back to your lips, your fingers fisting his shirt.

His knees went utterly weak, the feeling of you becoming all too much for him to handle.

“I’m sure.” You muttered, against his mouth, feeling your pulse race as he knotted his hands through your hair.

“So beautiful, my girl.” He groaned, moving to your cheeks and pecking all around the entirely of your face, leaving little traces of himself all over you along with his vanilla chapstick.

“Stop!” You giggled, feeling the ghost of his lips all around your face.

“Never.” He teased, grinning like a madman and giving you one last lingering kiss before putting the car back into gear.

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You had eventually arrived at your house, the car pulled into the driveway as Steve opened the door for you — like some soft of bodyguard.

“After you m’lady.” He simpered, holding his hands out teasingly and giving you a sly wink.

“Why thank you, kind gentlemen.” You giggled, taking his hand and getting out of the car.

“Your legs feel a little better?” He asked, wanting the excuse to carry you again.

“Yeah, everything feels better.” You replied, as you walked up to the front door.

“You need the ke—“ You began to explain,

“Sweetheart, I remember.” He grinned, turning the welcome mat up to reveal a key.

“See?” He joked, opening the door with ease.

“Impressive.”

“Do I get a reward for that?” He winked, the wink he used to do before — never mind.

You blushed like a tomato, cheeks turning redder than when you got hit in the face with a dodgeball in gym class.

You turned into a stuttering mess, how did he still have this effect on you?

“I—I…” The words were stuck in your throat like a bad piece of food that went down the wrong way.

“I was teasing. C’mon, time for bed.” He spoke, dragging you up to the twisting stairs and clicking the lock open to your bedroom.

It was still the same, same old tom cruise posters and cyndi laupers albums scattered across the place, but messier.

Like a reflection of your mind.

“Almost there baby.” Steve mumbled, steering your tired self over to your bed, still filled with stuffed animals that carol once deemed childish but steve adored.

You felt straight onto the bed, sending a plushie flying off the edge but too sleepy to notice.

“Goodnight sweetheart, sweet dreams.” Steve muttered, kissing your forehead as if a final goodbye.

You murmured something incoherent — something about saving mr whiffles (your favourite plushie) from the monsters under the bed? — before whispering, “Can you stay?”

“Me?”

“Mhm.” You sighed, pulling the covers up to your chin and grabbing hold of your pink teddy bear — that steve had gotten you for valentine’s day last year that you totally didn’t sleep with every night because it smelt like him — and pressing your head against a pillow.

“O-Of course, darlin’.” He smiled dumbly, seeing how peaceful you looked all snuggled up in your cozy bed — the one who used to accompany you in every night.

He began to take his shirt off, and pants too, leaving him clad in his black boxers but even not trying to initiate anything.

“I’m just hot baby, nothing else.” He warned, not wanting to make you uncomfortable in any way.

“C’mere.” You yawned, wanting to feel his burning hot chest against yours.

He complied, pulling the pink covers off your small bed and cuddling into your side, using you like teddy bear as he dozed off in your arms.

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You were stuck staring at the ceiling, deep in thought.

When you woke up, his warm body wasn’t anywhere near yours.

Did he leave?

Was this all just out of pity?

Did he really mean what he said last night?

You were being stupid. He had to be here somewhere.

The faint sound of a coffee machine going off aligned with your assumption.

You wandered into the kitchen, seeing him,

His Body was all on show and his hair somehow still perfect after he tossed and turned all night.

“Morning.” You sighed, you couldn’t sleep at all last night. Vecna’s face still haunting you anytime you tried to shut your eyes.

“I made you breakfast, and coffee.” He pointed to the eggs on toast and steaming hot coffee placed on the table — and you’d admit you were surprised steve hadn’t managed to burn the kitchen down.

“Thanks Stevie.” You yawned, the tiredness not fading away.

“About last night….” He trailed off, deep in thought while sipping on a hot cup of coffee.

Was this the part where he told you that he regretted it?

That you should just pretend it never existed?

“I hope you know it was all true, what I said and what I did. It wasn’t that I felt bad, or pityful. It was real. What I feel for you is real.” He said, pouring his heart out to you before it was even nine am.

“M-Me too. And I want us to continue being real Steve, no matter what.” You confessed, leaving barely any space between you two, close enough to smell his earthy cologne that drove you insane.

“Well, guess it’s settled then sweetheart.” He grinned, kissing the shit out of you once again.

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tag list / anyone asking for a part two!! @theallisonkeery @1luvjo3 @harringtonsgirlxo @babyluxbeat @lacywithdrawal @sexyvixen7 @kurtsworld96sworld @peanutbelley @luver4chris @offbrandhandymanny

apologies for bad writing :))

thanks for everyone who has enjoyed this it made me so happy <33

like comment and reblog if you enjoyed !!

"Are you sure this is a good idea?" Your eyes flick between your reflection and Steve's.

"I'm positive, babe, relax," he places a gentle hand on your shoulder, "No one is going to see, it's just forest back here."

"Yeah, but-" you start to protest, but Steve grabs your chin and makes you look at him. Then he presses a tender kiss to your lips.

"No, none of that worrying shit, okay?" He mumbles against your lips, then pulls away.

"But, Steve," you whine.

"Ah, no. Stop that," he shoves his finger against your lips to keep them closed. "We're here to get drunk and take a swim. So enjoy it, okay? Besides, your body is a gift, babe, show it off to the fucking world."

He kisses your forehead softly, which makes you melt, but does nothing to calm your anxiety.

If Steve Harrington told you he had swum naked in his pool "a million times," should you really trust him? No, probably not. But all it took was your boyfriend to give you his signature puppy dog eyes for you to cave and give in.

So here you were, in the Harringtons' backyard, cold six-pack sitting on the lounge chair, sweater falling off your shoulders. Steve cracks open a beer, gulping it down as if it's nothing.

He tilts the can in your direction, "For my pretty girl?"

You roll your eyes playfully, taking a step towards him, "Pretty?"

"Yeah," he responds, watching as you take the quarter-full can from him. Steve keeps his eyes on you as you down the rest of the beer. The way your lips purse around the metal rim, how your throat bobs as you swallow.

God, he loved everything about you.

You wipe your mouth with the back of your hand when the final drop of beer is gone from the can.

"Have I ever told you how hot you are?" Steve blurts.

You toss the can lazily in the direction of the grass, letting it roll against the concrete. "Yes, like, all the time," you answer.

"Hm," he pulls you in by your hips, "Well, you're fucking hot, babe."

A small laugh leaves your lips, and Steve feels accomplished. He places another kiss on your forehead, "I love you so much."

"I love you too," you respond, letting him toss your sweater aside.

He trails his fingers down your arms, "I lied. I've never done this before," he admits.

You hum as if it wasn't already obvious, "I know, Steve. I know."

He looks down at his feet, then back up at you sheepishly after a beat. "That obvious?" he questions, and watches as you nod your head in confirmation. "Well, I wanted to share this moment with you," he says, pulling his shirt over his head.

You admire the hair on his chest hair for a moment too long, and he grins. "Oh, don't start," you scoff, crossing your arms.

Steve tilts his head like a puppy, "I like it when my pretty girl looks at me."

"Don't get used to it. We wouldn't want your ego getting bigger," you retort.

"Ouch!" he acts like he's been wounded dramatically, "That hurts, babe."

"Well," your fingers go under the hem of your top, "I know something that will cheer you up." Steve watches with bated breath as you take off your shirt.

He swallows, his throat suddenly dry, "Oh yeah, definitely better."

But that wasn't even the best part. Because then you took off your bra, letting your tits breathe. Steve's eyes widen, and his hands are immediately on them. "Boobies!" he practically cheers, giving them a squeeze.

You burst out laughing at the sheer absurdity that is Steve Harrington saying 'boobies'.

"What?" he raises an eyebrow in confusion, "Do you not like boobies?"

He squeezes them again, and you slap a hand over his mouth, "Oh my god! Shut up, you dork."

Steve pouts, his bottom lip jutting out and brushing against your palm. "My girlfriend doesn't love me," he muffles against your skin.

"Don't play this game, you won't win," you kiss the back of your hand before pulling it off his mouth. He brings his arms around you, nuzzling his face into your neck.

"I know you love me, baby," he peppers kisses on your bare shoulder, "Of course you love me. What's not to love about King Steve?"

"A lot," you answer, jokingly, "I hear he's a huge dork."

"He's got something else that's huge too," he winks.

You grab onto his shoulders, shake him a little, "No, no way. Never say that again."

He rolls his eyes, "You never let me have any fun."

"We're about to skinny dip in your pool. I think that's pretty fun," you respond. His expression turns into a mischievous grin, and he slips his fingers into the waistband of your bottoms.

"Oh, it is pretty fun," he replies, "I get to see your cute butt." He slides his hands fully into your bottoms and cups your cheeks.

"Can't keep your hands off me for five minutes, huh?" you say, unbuckling his belt.

"Neither can you, babe," he responds, now more interested in taking your bottoms off.

Soon, you were both in just your underwear, the only barrier that sat between the night air and your most intimate areas. You didn't know why there was hesitation from both ends; it's not like you haven't seen each other naked before. But something about this was different from having sex in the comfort of Steve's bedroom.

"You're right, what if this is a bad idea?" he suddenly mumbles.

"Hey," you look into his big eyes full of love, "None of that worrying shit, okay?"

He takes your hand in his, chuckling a bit because you used his own words to calm him, "Yeah, okay." He taps on your hip, "Ladies first?"

"Obviously," you respond, pulling your hand away from his and taking off your underwear in one fluid motion. Steve has to hold back a groan at the sight of you bare. You were just so perfect, and he was so in love with you.

"I've never seen someone so gorgeous before," he admires without touching you for once. Then he pulls off his boxers, so both of you are completely naked.

You turn towards the pool, "Together?"

His hand finds yours again, "Together," he confirms.

The two of you step to the edge of the pool, staring at your now nude reflections. Steve squeezes your hand, "Ready?"

You nod your head, your body preparing for the sudden wave of cold water that's about to hit you. On the count of three, you both jump into the pool together, the cold water hitting your bodies like a shockwave.

You both make various strange noises to express how cold the water is, but eventually your bodies find each other. Your limbs tangle with his as he spins you around, keeping his forehead against yours.

"We should do this more often," he says, kissing your now-wet lips.

"What? Swim naked in your parents' pool?" you respond.

"No," he laughs, grabbing onto your hips, "Have fun. We should have more fun."

You hum softly, kissing him back, "Let's enjoy this fun before we think about more fun."

"Yes, ma'am," he grins, and before you can protest, he picks you up and throws you into the water. You scream, splashing around, kicking your feet to get back to the surface.

"You're so dead, Steven!" you yell, then tackle him, pushing both of your bodies underwater.

He instinctively wraps his arms around you and pulls your body close to his.

Even underwater, Steve always wants to be near you.

Star's notes -> This was supposed to be a drabble btw... why does this always happen lmao

(Requests are open!)

Steve shifted beneath you, his other hand coming up to cradle the back of your head, fingers threading through your hair with a familiarity that made your chest ache. "Morning, Mrs. Harrington," he mumbled, voice deep with sleep, sex and contentment, and you felt the vibration of it rattle your brain.

"Mmm," you managed, your course as you tried to gain awareness of your surroundings. "Wha - "

"Time is it? Too early," he groaned, but he was smiling, his eyes still closed, his thumb playing with the hairs at the nape of your neck. "Don't move. You're perfect right here."

You tried to lift your head to look at him properly, but Steve made a protesting groan, his arm tightening around your waist to pin you flush against him. He cracked one eye open, hazel, warm and slightly crinkled at the corners with amusement. "Nope. Sunday morning rule. No getting up before the alarm."

"We have a Sunday rule?" you murmured, your voice muffled against his shoulder in slight confusion. Your fingers traced idle patterns over his collarbone, mapping the familiar landscape of his skin without thinking and that you weren't controlling - muscle and bone and the faint scar from where a demodog had caught him years ago, now faded to silver.

"Since always," he said softly, his hand sliding down to settle possessively on your hip, thumb rubbing circles there. "You, me, five more minutes of pretending the world doesn't exist. Don't you remember?"

He lifted his head just enough to press a kiss to your forehead, then your nose, then your mouth - soft and unhurried, tasting like sleep and the mint toothpaste he used every morning. When you pulled back slightly to breathe and think, he chased your lips, making a dissatisfied hum in his throat. "Coffee's brewing," he whispered against your mouth, his hand drifting up your spine in a way that made your toes curl. "But I don't want it yet. I want this."

"Steve," you laughed quietly, the sound foreign in your own ears - too light, too unburdened. You pushed at his chest half-heartedly. "You're insatiable."

"Only for you," he said, and there was something raw and vulnerable in his voice that stopped your teasing. He caught your hand, the one with the gold band, and brought it to his lips, kissing your knuckles one by one. "Only ever for you, sweetheart. You know that."

You stared at him, at the way the morning light caught in his hair - longer than you remembered, curling at the ends - and the peace written across his features. No tension in his jaw. No shadows under his eyes. Just Steve, looking at you like you were the only thing in the world that mattered.

"I know," you whispered, and the words tasted like truth, even as something deep in your gut whispered this is wrong, wrong, wrong.

He tugged you back down, nestling you against his chest, his chin resting on top of your head. "Just five more minutes," he begged, his voice dropping into that register that always made you swoon - that honey-sweet tone he used when he wanted something, when he was scared and needed comfort from the horrors of Hawkins - and reserved just for you. "Let me hold you. Let me pretend we don't have to get up and deal with Lily and the grocery list and your mom coming over for dinner. Just us."

You melted against him, your reservations dissolving under the heat of his skin. "Okay," you breathed. "Five minutes."

"Good girl," he murmured, his hand resuming its lazy tracing on your back.

You tried to sit up to stretch once five minutes past, but his arm tightened around your waist again like a steel band, keeping you flush against him. He made a protesting noise in his throat, half-laugh, half-demand. That was when you felt it - not just the press of his morning arousal against your hip, but the distinct, unfamiliar roundness of your own body. You looked down, past the sheet pooled at your waist,

A soft swell. A slight, firm curve where your stomach usually lay flat, the skin there paler, marked with faint silvery stretch marks - worn out of time. You pressed a hand to it instinctively, and beneath your palm, you felt a flutter. Not a kick - not yet - but the subtle, alien sensation of life shifting, swimming, existing inside you.

Four months, maybe five.

Panic staryed to set in as you snapped out of the daze. You were meant to be twenty, fighting monsters in alternate dimensions, covered in scars that had nothing to do with kitchen accidents - not nesting in suburban Hawkins with white picket fences and -

"Mommy?"

The voice was small, delicate, coming from the doorway.

You turned your head, your heart already recognizing the sound that your brain wouldn't. A little girl stood there, maybe two years old, clutching a stuffed demodog with button eyes and mismatched fabric patches that looked homemade. She had Steve’s hair - thick, brown, unruly curls that stuck up in every direction - and your eyes, wide and searching. She was wearing a t-shirt that said World's Okayest Big Sister with an arrow pointing to her stomach, the fabric swallowing her small frame.

"Bad dream," she whispered, lower lip trembling, her stuffed monster dangling from one tiny hand by its frayed ear. "The shadows were eating the stars again."

Steve shifted, sitting up slightly, the sheet sliding down to his waist to reveal the scatter of scars across his chest - old wounds from fights and teeth and things that should have killed him, now faded to memories. He didn't let go of you. If anything, he pulled you closer against his side, one hand protectively covering your bump like it was the most natural thing in the world.

"C'mere, peanut," he said softly, his voice dropping into that register he only used when he was terrified but trying not to show it - the same voice he'd used in the tunnels when the demodogs were closing in. "Stars can't be eaten. You know that. You're made of star-stuff, remember? Grandma said so."

The little girl padded forward, bare feet on hardwood that creaked in familiar places, and climbed onto the bed with the graceless efficiency of a toddler. She wedged herself between you and Steve, her small hand immediately finding your stomach, patting it with familiarity to counter your foreignness - her palm warm and slightly sticky.

"Baby sister kicking?" she asked, looking up at you with those impossible eyes - yours and Steve's combined into something new. She smelled like strawberry shampoo younised to use when you were young and sleep.

"Not yet, sweetie," you heard Steve say. His voice sounded distant, like you were listening to it from underwater, like it was coming through a radio with bad reception. "She's still sleeping. Like you should be."

"Don't wanna sleep," she mumbled, pressing her face against Steve's bare shoulder. "Wanna stay with you. With baby"

Steve kissed your temple, the bristle of his unshaven jaw scraping gently against your skin, then dropped his head to press his lips to the top of his daughter's head, inhaling deeply. "Go back to sleep," he murmured against her hair. "It's early. Daddy's got you. I've got both of you."

But you couldn't. You stared at the ceiling - the vaulted beams, the ceiling fan spinning lazily, the crack in the plaster that looked like a tree branch - and felt the wrongness creep in like frost on glass, crystallizing at the edges of the perfect picture.

This was Vecna.

You remembered now. The attic. The clock ticking away. Steve screaming your name as his hands shook you and you felt your consciousness fading, eyes rolling back. You'd tried reached for him, your fingers brushing his, and then -

Then this.

A vision, you thought, your stomach dropping out even as the baby fluttered again beneath your hand. He’s showing us what we want most so he can destroy it. He's feeding on the hope.

Steve's hand moved from your back to your stomach, spanning the width of it, his thumb stroking reverently over the stretch marks there like they were medals. "You're shaking," he whispered against your hair, his voice suddenly worried, losing that sleepy contentment. "Hey. Hey, look at me."

You looked at him. Really looked. He looked older here, softer around the edges, laugh lines at the corners of his eyes that you hadn't put there yet, a scar above his eyebrow that you didn't recognize. He looked happy. Content in a way that the real Steve - the one constantly waiting for the other shoe to drop, for the monsters to come back, who checked the locks three times and never drove anywhere without a bat in trunk- never quite managed.

"What is it?" he asked, his brow furrowing. He cupped your face, his thumb brushing your cheekbone in worry. "Talk to me. Is it the baby? Are you hurting?"

"No," you whispered. You turned your head to look at the window, at the too perfect sunrise. It was always night in the Upside Down. Always dark. "Steve... do you remember how we got here?"

He blinked. His hand stilled on your stomach. "What do you mean? We... we live here. We bought this house last spring. You wanted the big kitchen for baking, and I wanted - " He stopped. His eyes darkened, confusion clouding them. "We... the nursery. We painted it yellow. Because we didn't want to know the sex, but you said yellow was happy..."

"Steve," you said, your voice breaking. You took his hand - the one with the gold band - and squeezed until you felt bone. "We're not here. This isn't real. We're in the Creel house. Do you remember? We went in to find Max, and the clocks stopped, and I - "

"Don't," he said sharply, jerking back coming into reality. The little girl - Lily, you'd heard anpther version of him say before, her name is Lily - whimpered at the sudden movement. Steve's face went pale beneath his tan. "Don't say that. Don't - this is real. I can feel you. I can feel her." His hand pressed harder against your stomach, desperate. "I can feel your heart beating. That's real."

"It's a lie," you whispered, tears pricking your eyes. Your other hand went to your stomach, to the life that wasn't real, to the future that Vecna was offering as both gift and execution. You could feel the curse tightening its hold somewhere in the back of your mind, the vines in the real world digging into your ankles, feeding on your acceptance of this lie, drinking down the desire like wine. "Steve, look at me. Look at my eyes. We're twenty. We're kids. We don't... we don't have this yet. We haven't earned it."

"We could," he said, and his voice cracked like a bell struck too hard. He was crying now, silent tears tracking down his face. "We could have this. We could run. We could leave that Hawkins. Let the others handle it. Just... us. Her." He looked down at the sleeping toddler between you, at the bump under your hand. "Them. We could have the whole thing, Y/N. We could be safe."

"At what cost?" you asked, your own tears falling now, hot against your cheeks. You touched his face, mapping the lines that weren't there, memorizing the way he looked with joy written all over him. "If we stay here, we die. Our bodies die in the real world, and this... this becomes a grave. A pretty grave, but a grave."

Steve made a sound like he'd been stabbed, his forehead dropping to rest against yours. His breath was warm, coffee-sweet. "I want it," he confessed, broken. "God, I want it so much. I want the boring mornings. I want the kids running in with nightmares. I want to grow old and fat and gray with you. I want to meet them." His hand trembled against your stomach. "I want to meet our kid."

"I know," you sobbed, your fingers tangling in his hair. "Me too. I want it so bad I can taste it. But not like this. Not as a trap."

The little girl - Lily - stirred between you, her small hand finding your cheek, patting the tears there with confused concern. "Don't cry, Mommy. Daddy, why is Mommy crying?"

Steve looked at her, really looked, and his expression shattered into a thousand pieces. He pulled her up, cradling her against his chest with one arm while the other anchored you to him, his body shaking with silent sobs. "Because she's brave, peanut," he whispered into her hair. "Braver than Daddy."

"We have to wake up," you said, your voice steadier now despite the tears. You took his hand - the one with the gold band - and pressed it flat against your chest, over your heart. "We have to choose the real world. The hard one. Where we fight."

His eyes met yours, red-rimmed and desperate. "What if we don't get this?" he asked, his thumb tracing the ring. "What if we die anyway? What if we never get to be this happy?"

"Then we die trying," you said. "But at least we'll be real. At least we'll be together in the truth."

You leaned forward, pressing your forehead to his, the sleeping child warm between you, the phantom baby kicking softly under your hands. "I love you," you whispered. "I choose you. The real you. The one with the bat and the bad jokes and the hero complex. Not this... this perfect ghost."

Steve closed his eyes, his tears wetting your skin. "I love you," he breathed. "I choose you. Always."

You kissed him. It tasted like goodbye, like the end of a dream. The bedroom seemed to dim, the sunlight retracting like a tide, the world froze.

"Hold on to me," you whispered.

"Never letting go," he promised.

The gold band on your finger burned cold.

The bedroom dissolved into a dark sky and ash.

You woke up gasping on the splintered floor of the Creel house, Steve's hand clutched in yours so tight your bones ached, your fingers interlocked white-knuckled. He was sobbing, choking on air, his other hand pressed against your flat stomach like he could still feel the curve of it, still feel the kick.

"She had your eyes," he wept as you dragged him into your lap, both of you bleeding slightly, Vecna's laughter echoing in the rafters like breaking glass. "She had your eyes, and they were kicking, Y/N, the baby was - "

"I know," you cried, rocking him, your free hand cupping the back of his head where his hair was still shorter, still twenty, not the longer curls of the dream. "I know. I felt them too."

"They wanted us to stay," Steve gasped out, his face buried in your neck, his body trembling against yours. "They wanted us to choose it."

"We didn't," you promised into his sweat-damp hair, the memory of gold bands and baby kicks and morning light burning behind your eyelids like a brand. "We chose this. We chose real."

"But what if - " Steve pulled back, his face ravaged, blood smeared across his forehead. "What if that's all we get? What if that was our only chance?"

You looked at him - really looked at the boy who had become a man in the trenches of Hawkins too soon, who carried trauma like a shield, who loved with his whole bleeding heart. You took his face in your hands, your thumbs wiping at the blood, at the tears.

"Then we make it real," you said fiercely. "Not the vision. Not Vecna's trap. But us. We survive this, Steve Harrington. We kill that bastard, and we go home, and we build that life for real. Not in a dream. Not perfect. Messy and scary and real."

Steve stared at you, his breath hitching, his eyes searching yours. Slowly, the despair receded, replaced by something harder, more determined. The same look he got when he knew he had to step up to protect the ones he loved.

"Okay," he whispered. "Okay. For real."

"For real," you repeated.

He leaned his forehead against yours, his hand finally leaving your stomach to grip your hip instead, grounding himself in the present, in the flat plane of your body that was yours alone, not yet shared, but someday - someday if you survived.

"We're going to get that," he said, his voice steady now, rough but sure. "The house. The kids. The Sunday mornings. We're going to steal it back from him."

"Yeah," you said, smiling through the tears, through the blood. "We are."

COMING SOON!!

★ PART I

★ PART II

You never thought it’d end. The fight against Vecna seemed like a never ending story. But after fight after fight, and loss after loss. It was finally over. Though you never stopped looking over your shoulder. 

 Eleven’s gone and the kids aren’t kids anymore, meaning you and Steve were no longer the elected babysitters. And your heart couldn’t help but tighten at the feeling. Aside from the bi-weekly visit from Mike and very many phone calls from max, Dustin, Lucas, and will, you missed them so much. 

 Steve got a job, a good job, working as a coach/sex ed teacher at Hawkins middle. You began working as an intern at the hospital after graduating college. But as of right now you were home, nesting and trying every way to finally push yourself into labor.

 The timer dinged, pulling you out of your daydream, nostalgia hitting you like a freight train. You hadn’t even noticed the tears rolling down your eyes. 

You glanced at the clock on the wall, it read 4:32.

Meaning Steve would be home any minute, and just in time for dinner. 

 You stood up slowly, back slightly aching from the weight of the baby girl in your stomach. Sighing you glanced down at your rounded belly “think it’s time to come into the real world missy?” You asked. 

Speaking to your baby was something that you’d grow to love, especially when Steve was working and you were left alone with your thoughts. 

 You waddled your way to the kitchen, throwing on a pair of mitts and grabbing the steaming hot pan of lasagna that was way too much for you and Steve to consume. You closed the oven, pulling off the mitts and tossing them to the side with a sigh. 

 You were still getting used to not cooking for at least three more growing teenagers plus yourself and Steve. “Jesus…” you muttered. 

 You heard the front door open and you perked up a little, feeling better now that Steve was home. “In here!” You shouted before Steve could ask where you were. About ten seconds later he entered the kitchen, hair messy from his cap and shirt slightly wrinkled from his jacket. 

 He wore a huge smile on his face as he reached out for you “hey baby” he grabbed your hand gently pulling you towards him so he could place a kiss to you’re forehead, then move down to your lips. 

 Your body visibly relaxed, making Steve pull away from the kiss, hands absentmindedly moving to your belly. “Hard day?” He asked quietly. You huffed a tired laugh “just reminiscing. Plus I should be asking you that Mr. Harrington” you pressed another kid to his lips. 

 Steve smiled again, a lot more gentle than before “it was a good day, kids were bugging me about their next game. They suck but they have heart.” He joked, making you snort and gently smack his chest. 

 He glanced behind you for a split second, smile growing even more as his hazel eyes met yours once again. “Made too much again?” He asked. You sighed, head falling to his chest, making him laugh as his hands move to your hips. 

 “I’ve been cooking for them for so long now it feels wrong to make so little” your throat tightens, tears filling your eyes with sadness. Steve’s face falls, glancing back to the doorway when he hears a chair scrape against the floor and whispers immediately following. He huffs in disbelief ‘they had one job’ he thought.

 Your head immediately lifts from his chest and you look past him. Seeing nothing you looked back at him and he wore a guiltily look “did you invite someone?” You asked with a raised eyebrow. 

“Maybe?” His voice raised an octave. You sighed, glancing down to your clothes, you hadn’t been prepared for guests and that meant you hadn’t gotten ready yourself.

Steve, immediately knowing where your mind was, put his finger under your chin to make you look at him again, “hey, no no don’t worry about that. Why don’t you go say hi to our guests and I’ll bring out the food.” 

 You wanted to argue but Steve had cut you off before you could start “mm mm nope. Just trust me.” He gave you a look. You sighed, and he pressed another kiss to your forehead before giving you an encouraging nod. 

 With that you waddled away from him and out of the kitchen glancing in the living room, noticing it was empty before your eyes landed on the dining room. Each chair occupied by very familiar heads of hair. 

 They all turned to you, proud smiles on their faces before glancing down at your very noticeable belly. Your eyes filled with tears, at the sight of them all grown up. Max and Will were the firsts to stand up and greet you. 

 “Jeez we leave for five months and you're already about to pop” max jokes wrapping her arms around you. Will laughs at max’s joke as he approaches “you look amazing though” his arms wrap around you. 

 You melt into their hugs and sob not being able to help the happiness overwhelming you. Will and max move away making room for Dustin, Lucas, and Mike. 

 Dustin almost tackles you just as Steve walks out with the food you’d prepared “hey, careful asshole don’t sneak her into labor” and you laugh in response shaming your head as you hug them back “no please do actually, my backs had enough of this extra weight” 

 “It’s good to see you happy” Lucas whispers into your ear while hugging, it made you hug tighter.  When they pull away you wipe your cheeks, though it did absolutely nothing because the tears immediately replaced the ones you wiped away.

 “Gosh it’s so good to see you guys” you say, sniffling. They smile back at you, and Steve claps “okay let’s dig in before it gets cold” 

You nod in agreement moving back to the kitchen to get plates and utensils but Mike stops you “don’t worry I got it, you sit and rest your back” 

 you thank him before moving to sit in one of the extra chairs Steve had pulled to the table immediately turning to them “so what's new since the last time we talked” you asked no one in particular and because of that they all began talking at the same time. You laughed at the familiarity, as Mike came and sat plates and utensils in the middle of the table beside the lasagna.

 Everyone grabbed their respective plates and dug in. Max gossiping about this girl who wouldn’t stop hitting on Lucas, “and she does it right in my face like I'm not even there” she pokes at her food a bit harshly making Lucas grab her hand in support. You and Steve smile at each other, “she sounds like an asshole” Dustin comments as he takes a bite. Max rolls her eyes “she’s a bitch is what she is” she says, and you repress the urge to tell her to watch her language. 

Soon after will lets it be known that he found a boyfriend, making the table rattle with cheers and ‘whoop’s from his friends and yourself. you place a hand on his shoulder “congratulations will, im happy for you” you say, he blushes ears burning at the praise. 

 Mike then goes into detail about the book he’d been writing about the adventures of the party which made you tear up. Steve placing a gentle hand on your thigh for comfort. 

 Dustin told you about a new girl he was seeing, making Steve perk up “told you it’d work I’m a professional man” he said gesturing to you. The kids groaned in disgust “dude gross and by the way your advise was literally no help”

 You giggled at Steve’s offended look Lucas nodded “yeah no offense but your flirting tactics are way outdated.” Mike and max nodded in agreement.

Will perked up with a smile “y/n’s however…” he trailed off and the table cheered once again.

 It wasn’t long before everyone had finished eating and Max volunteered to wash the dishes for a change. You had all migrated to the living room still talking about everything and nothing at all. Max joined you not long after and you sat like that for hours. Laughing, catching up and making new memories. 

 Your heart was so full of love, from Steve for setting this up, for everyone else who had gone out of their way to make you happy. But your heart dropped when the couch beneath you was suddenly soaked.

 You looked down at your lap, catching the attention of Steve who almost choked, and that caught the attention of the kids who all went silent. 

 “Holy shit”

This was all you could dread while standing on your childhood home’s front porch step for the first time in a year. You tried not to think about a year ago when your left hand was heavier and your smile wider. Instead, you mustered up a pathetic smile, welcoming your family with open arms. Praying to drop the topic that was your personal life, which surely wouldn’t last as long as you’d hope. 

The first crack came at dinner that night, your mother pulled out all the stops, a roasted chicken with all the sides. Before you could finish your plate, she cleared her throat loudly. 

“I don’t wanna say much. But you need to know that I saw Steve at the grocery store the other day with all those kids. His parents left town again, so he’s all alone in that big house.” If she saw you flinch at the sound of his name, she didn’t address it. 

“Thanks for the heads up. And the pity party attempt, mom.” You managed to get out, dropping your fork. Your appetite now undoubtedly ruined. 

A few moments of silence passed before Mom took that as an opportunity to keep going. “You know they’re still family to you. They’d love to see you. I’m still planning on bringing them a pie. It just wouldn’t be Christmas without-” 

“Mom, I’d really appreciate it if you didn’t.” You snapped, pulling the chair out more dramatically than you should have. 

“Y/m/n.” Your father sighed, pleading with his eyes for you to stay. “Let’s change the subject, shall we? How’s work been?”

Thankful for his diversion, you managed to get out some basics about work. The simple generic small talk. The only thing you could stomach. You just had to get through the next week, and everything would be fine. Right? 

Word of your arrival in town spread like wildfire; you knew it would the moment someone drove past your parents' house and saw your car out front. The first person to call came as a surprise, your mother holding out the kitchen phone for you. None other than Robin on the line. The last time you spoke to her, you were choking back sobs, screaming at her to tell you where Steve had gone. 

The night your life fell apart in front of your eyes was nearly 6 months ago. After 8 months of an engagement, the two of you decided to move, Chicago, calling your name. A fresh start, not too far from home. A place away from the expectations that lingered above his head, the ghosts that haunted underneath the town. You told yourself it was just stress from the move, stress from Steve having a hard time finding a job he loved. You convinced yourself that the distance that had grown between you two was normal. Wedding planning had been put on hold, simply trying to get through each day at a time. You weren’t in the city for 2 months before it came crashing down in front of your eyes. 

It was a normal day, until it wasn’t. You came home from work, your home absent of the joy it used to bring. In the same kitchen he used to pick you up and spin you around in, he sat against the table. Illuminated by nothing but the city lights peering in through the window. Your keys hitting the bowl on the counter echoed through the still house. 

“I can’t do this anymore.” He said, no pleasantries, no welcome home. Five words that tore open your chest, leaving you gasping for air. 

“What?” You laughed because what else was there for you to do? Shock had taken over your body, feet glued to the spot. Overcoat still on, work bag dangling from your arm. 

“This. Us.” He spoke through clenched teeth, tears staining his cheeks. “I can’t keep sitting in this apartment day in and day out, alone. Contributing nothing. You’re gonna end up hating me. If you don’t already.” 

The bag slipped from your arm with a heavy thud. Rushing over to him, standing across from the table. “What are you talking about? Where is this coming from?” 

“It’s been coming for a while, Y/n. We both keep dancing around it. I see it, you’re stressed out, pretending you’re not carrying me behind you like deadweight,” He sniffled, “I’m a fuck up, an embarrassment. Everything my dad said, I would be.”

You reached for him with shaky hands, knees falling to the floor beside him. Pulling yourself into his lap, holding his hands in yours. “Stop, stop.” You demanded, “I have never seen you like that. Ever. Steve, your father is an abusive piece of shit. Who cares what he thinks? It’s only been a few months; it’s going to take time. Everything is going to work out. I keep telling you that, and I believe it.” 

“I see myself like that, and I can’t unsee it. Day in and day out, I’m here in this city, alone.” He shook his head, barely responding to your begging him to look at you, to hold you back. To pretend he wasn’t okay with all that you built to slip through his fingers.  “Yeah, we were bored at home, but this is the alternative? Being alone in a city that doesn’t care if I exist.”

You scoffed. “We didn’t leave because we were bored. We left because we deserved better. Because after everything you’ve been through, after everything we’ve been through, we earned a fresh start.”

“And what if this fresh start is killing me?” He laughed, a horrible, dry laugh from the depths of his chest. His body rattles against your hands. 

Your breath stutters. “You don’t mean that.”

“I do.” He admitted, the air around you two changing. Your hands slipped from his, still sitting back on your knees in front of him. He still barely looked at you, content to stare at the wood grain on the table. Committing the pattern to memory. 

“So what, you want to move home?” You asked, the walls still smelled like fresh paint. The cardboard boxes you two procrastinated on throwing out lingered in the guest room. There hadn’t been enough time to make it home, the training wheels were still on. 

“We can..” You sighed, rubbing your face. “We can maybe sublet the lease until it’s over. I don’t know. We have to see if there are even any places for us to rent back home.” 

He turned in his seat, his eyes finally meeting yours. You could see his heart breaking on his face, and you knew. Something bone-chilling washed over you, nearly forcing your body flat on the floor. 

“You don’t mean us, do you?” You managed out, tears already welling in your eyes. 

His head shook, moving towards you. Joining you, knees aching on the floor you once rolled around in joy on. 

“I love you,” he says, voice breaking. “I promise I do. This isn’t me walking away because I stopped loving you.” His hands gripped yours for a second before you yanked them away. 

“Then don’t do this. If you love me, don’t leave me.” You sobbed, “If you loved me, you’d stay, or let me come with. I don’t care where we are; I want you. It’s all I’ve ever wanted.” 

He reached for you again, his touch burning your skin. 

“I have to,” he whispers. “Because I can feel myself holding you back. You deserve the chance to love this city the way you’ve always wanted to. I don’t belong here. I know I don’t. But you do. I’m not cut out for this life. Not this place, not this constant fight to prove I’m worth something. But you are. You shine here. And if I stay, all I’ll do is make you smaller so I don’t feel so lost.”

“So you go back alone,” you said, incredulous. “Back to the same streets, the same expectations from your father, the same ghosts?”

He gestured helplessly at the room, at the life you’d hauled here with too much hope and not enough certainty. “Better that than I stay here, pretending I belong.” 

“You’re really going to throw this away?” You asked, tears streaming down your neck. “You’re going to throw away all the years between us because you won’t give it a few more weeks?” 

“I can’t give you the life you deserve here.” 

Your chest aches. “I don’t want this without you.” His thumb rubbed over the ring on your finger, a choked sob escaping your chest. You remembered the day he proposed, the reminder of the happiest day of your life turning bittersweet in a matter of minutes. 

“I know,” he says, his own tears falling freely now. “And that’s why I have to let you go before I turn into something you resent.”

You sniffled, “If you walk out of that door, Steve Harrington, I will resent you. I’ll never forgive you for giving up on us, for walking out like a coward.” 

He flinched at your words, understanding he deserved it. “Don’t think I’m giving up on us for nothing, I’m doing this for you.”

Then his hand falls, the space between you unbearable, a chasm building between the two of you. 

“No,” You shook your head, a laugh tearing out of you like a mad woman. “You’re doing it because you’re scared. You let your father’s words get in your head, now you’re letting them ruin your life.” 

“You don’t understand, and that’s okay.” He gave you a weak smile, standing up slowly. “But I love you. More than I’ve ever loved anyone before.” 

“Bullshit.” You sprang to your feet, pushing his chest. He didn’t move, just stood there taking whatever you’d give him. “You can’t say you love me while you’re actively leaving me. You just don’t wanna marry me anymore? A few rough months and you’re tapping out? That’s not how the real world works.” 

“You’re not listening to me,” He seethed, “I am miserable here! I miss my friends; I am alone here with no one but you. If I go home, I have a job with my dad, and you can still live out your dreams.” 

“My dreams mean nothing if you’re not here.” You yelled, pushing him roughly again. His hands come out to grip your wrists. “You’re not even fighting for us. You’ve given up.” 

The realization hit you like a freight train, stumbling on your feet. “You’ve given up.” 

“Y/n..” 

“Out.” You sobbed, taking a shaky step back. “You want to leave so bad? Get the fuck out. Run back home to the people who thought you couldn’t do it. Prove them right. End up just like your fucking father. If you want to live and die in that town, don’t let me stop you.” 

He knew rationally your words were just your heart breaking, and it tore him apart knowing he was the one doing it. You’d move on, he knew you would eventually. He just wanted you to have the life here you deserved, the one you’d keep him up all night daydreaming about. It just wasn’t going to be with him. So he resigned and walked into the room, grabbing his bags. All you could do was stand there, shell-shocked. Tears streaming down your cheeks. You ignored his goodbyes, waited until the door locked behind him to throw yourself on the floor. Screaming until your voice went hoarse. The next morning, you called Robin, begging her to tell you where he was. She said it was best she remove herself from this, wishing you well. All it took was one conversation, one bad night, and your entire life had crumbled right before your eyes. 

Now, as you stood there lost in the memory, you snapped back, hearing her voice on the other end of the line. 

“Hello.” She asked, making you blink. 

“Hi?” 

“Y/n,” Her voice rang out, too cheery. “It’s good to hear your voice. I’m glad you’re home.” 

It was awkward, a painful awkwardness that sat in the middle of your chest. Your best friend, the girl you used to tell everything, was now someone you could barely have a normal conversation with. 

“Yeah, you too.” You mumbled, squeezing your eyes shut. “I’m not trying to be mean, but did you need something?” 

She paused for a moment, “Uh, yeah. I just wanted to invite you to our Christmas party tomorrow. It wouldn’t be the same without you. We miss you.” 

The honesty in her voice made your heart ache, but you couldn’t. “I don’t think that’s a great idea, Robin-” 

“Steve said it’s fine.” She yelled, and you could hear mumblings in the background. “You don’t have to stay for long, just get some food. The kids really miss you, and so do I, Y/n. We miss our friend.” 

You sighed, running your hand through your hair. “I don’t know.” 

“Just, Steve’s house tomorrow at 7. Don’t worry about bringing anything. If you don’t come, that’s fine too, just…. Think about it.” 

“Okay.” You said, before hanging up the phone. Your forehead banging the wall harshly. 

The next 24 hours were spent pacing around your childhood bedroom, nearly burning a hole in the carpet. You could go and be social, see your friends. Fill the gap in your heart that formed the moment you last heard from them. If they hated you, they wouldn’t have invited you. Robin didn’t have a cruel bone in her body. But if you did go and walk into the Harrington household again, you weren’t sure if your heart could take it. It was naive to believe you could come here and not have a run-in with the man, but you didn’t prepare yourself enough for this.

On one of your last paces, you caught a glimpse of yourself in the mirror. The same mirror you got ready in for your first date with Steve, which felt like a lifetime ago. The mirror you cleaned both of your bloody faces in after the Starcourt Mall fiasco. You let yourself linger on your appearance, no longer recognizing the girl who stared back at you. 

“Fuck it.” You grumbled, your voice echoing throughout the empty room. You plopped down, dragging over your makeup bag. You would go, but you wouldn’t be happy about it. Your hands shook the whole time, nearly covering your chin in lipstick. They continued shaking as you drove to the store, picking out the most expensive bottle of wine the Hawkin’s supermarket had. The feeling only got worse when you pulled into the driveway. A black cloud dangling above your head.

The Harrington house was always extravagant, but dull. Lifeless in the way his parents decorated, only brought to life by the love Steve himself made. Today, it looked the opposite of that, with lights lazily strung up on the porch. The soft, warm glow of a Christmas tree peeking in through the front window. You thought back to your own home, where the tree sat untouched in a box in the spare room. What good was decorating if no one was around to see it but you? 

You weren’t willing to admit it to anyone, but Chicago was lonely. Steve had it all wrong those months ago; you were only thriving because he was there with you. You were so focused on providing a future for you two that you let him slip through the cracks. The city was big, big enough to hide your sorrows. But what was the point if the city didn’t care if you were there? You hated that he was right, you hated that things happened the way that they did. 

Once you had had enough of licking your own wounds, you tumbled out of the car. The wind was biting, soft snow still falling. You made a point not to look at Steve’s car on the way up the drive; you knew that BMW like the back of your hand. No point in ripping off another bandage. When you were face-to-face with the door, you clutched the wine like a lifeline, telling yourself you still had time to run. No one would even know you were here if you spun your tires fast enough. 

All of your daydreaming of running away vanished when the door swung open, your hand still up, going to knock on the wooden door. “Y/n?” Max spoke, her eyes wide.

Maybe you should have called, maybe you should have told Robin you were coming. Maybe Robin lied, maybe she didn’t tell anyone you were invited. Maybe you weren’t invited, and Robin was meddling again. 

All these fears vanished when Max basically leaped into your arms, wrapping them around your body tightly. You smiled in a way you haven’t in months, cheeks aching from the foreign movement. 

“Max.” You breathed out, squeezing the redhead back with just as much vigor. 

“Holy shit,” She laughed, her face still smushed in your trench coat, “I didn’t think you’d come. I missed you.” 

“I missed you more, kiddo.” The wine bottle nearly fell from your hand when she pulled back. You kept your gaze on her; she had grown so much since the last time you saw her. “God, you’re like a proper adult now, huh?” 

She rolled her eyes, taking the wine from your hand gently, “Not old enough to legally drink yet, but Steve said we can get a glass at dinner if we don’t break anything.” 

For the first time in months, you didn’t flinch at the mention of his name, too overwhelmed with emotion to even care. “That sounds like him.” 

You stepped forward, wrapping your arms around her once more, kissing the top of her head. “I’m so sorry.” It was a quiet admission, one for her only. When everything happened, Max quickly grew to be the little sister you never had. It wasn’t fair for you not to reach out as much, but she was in college now. She had a life outside of Hawkins, just like you; she understood more than most. 

“Don’t do that.” She shook her head, “All that matters is that you’re here now.” 

You opened your mouth to speak, only to get cut off by a loud squeal of your name. Your head shot up, peering into the house. Within seconds, a hurricane of overgrown teenagers were barreling towards the door. Dustin’s mop of curls was the first to appear out of the doorway, nearly pushing Max aside as he leaped into your arms. 

“Jesus assholes!” Max barked, the boys ignoring her as they crowded around you. 

Lucas flanked your side, Mike towering over the group, El behind him, while Dustin was squeezing the life out of you. 

“You smell good,” Dustin mumbled, making you roll your eyes. 

“Thank god you’re here,” Lucas breathed out, “Max has been nonstop talking about you-” He was cut off, no doubt, by a smack from the woman herself. 

Mike was rambling on about needing to ask you questions about school, something about wanting to intern at your job. 

El had snuck up, her hands tugging at the ends of your hair. “You cut it?” She had a soft frown. 

“I think it looks good!” Will spoke up, his arms wrapping around your side. 

You were lost in a fit of giggles, doing your best to keep up with all the overlapping voices. 

“Jesus, don’t overwhelm her!” Robin had now joined the party on the porch, her hands on her hips. That didn’t stop the kids from talking over each other; they eventually backed off a hair. Giving you time to hug each of them individually. 

“Seriously, you smell really good, you look like some rich lawyer.” Dustin rambled, making Mike smack him upside the head. 

“Jesus, you’re flirting with her?” He scoffed, “She works in publishing, by the way. Which is why I need to talk to her-” 

“I’m not flirting, dude, that would be against bro code-” 

You ignored them, wrapping your arms around El, almost picking her up off her feet. “Oh my sweet girl.” 

“Y/n, I only spied on you a few times.” She smiled, making you sputter out laughter. 

“Jesus, okay. You’re lucky I love you, or I’d have a stern talking to you about boundaries.” You shook your head, the smile hurting your cheeks now. 

“Don’t worry, it was only because we were worried. Steve never knew.” Will spoke up, making you wrap your arm around the younger boy. 

“Sorry, I worried you guys, really.” You spoke, looking around all of them. Letting your eyes land on Robin. Her hair was longer, and she seemed more sure of herself. More carefree than you remember her. 

As if sensing the long-awaited reunion, they slowly shuffled back into the house. Leaving you and Robin alone for a moment. 

“Robs.” You let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding. 

“Y/n.” She smiled, tears welling up in her eyes. You weren’t sure who ran to whom first, but the next thing you knew, the two of you were in each other’s arms. Squeezing so tight you could barely breathe, your head was in her neck. Willing the tears not to slip out of your lash line. 

“I missed you.” You choked out, her hand gripping the back of your coat like you’d vanish if she let go. 

“Missed you more.” She sobbed, her back shaking. “God, I have so much to tell you. I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry I picked a side. I promised I’d never do that, but I did anyway. Then I waited too long, and I figured you hated me-” 

“I figured you hated me.” A throaty laugh left your chest. Eyes thick with unshed tears.

She shook her head, pulling her head back to get a look at you. “I could never hate you. You’re my best friend. I’ll admit I haven’t been the best one lately, but if you’ll still have me…” 

“Robin Buckley…” You sighed, a toothy grin on your face. “I’ll have you. You’re never getting rid of me. Not really.” 

“I do hate to cut this reunion short, but I’m freezing my ass off out here.” She said, making you throw your head back in a giggle. She looped her arms with yours, pulling you into the warm house. She helped you hang your coat up, giving the same one over everyone had. 

“Dustin was right, you do look like a hot lawyer.” She whistled, making you roll your eyes. 

“Please,” You scoffed, “Look at you? I know the girls at Smith are just dying for a piece of you.” 

“Well doesn’t matter if they are; Vickie and I are finally going steady.” She grinned, you smacking her shoulder. 

“Oh my god? Robin, that’s so awesome.” 

“I’ll introduce you when I find her. I think she’s helping in the kitchen. Or in the cellar? I don’t know she’s been nervously running around preparing for today.”

You nodded, awkwardly following behind her into the living room. Nothing had changed in the house, but everything did at the same time. It was evident his parents hadn't been here in a while; it felt lived in. Warm and inviting, a stark contrast to how it was years ago. 

Max caught your eye in the kitchen, putting the wine bottle you brought in the ice bucket. You spotted Steve behind her, with his back turned. You darted your eyes away, walking over to the couch where the party was draped over it. A video game console was plugged in, abandoned as they chatted amongst each other. You could only avoid him for so long, but you were going to prolong the inevitable as much as you could. 

“So,” You started, plopping on the couch between Lucas and Will. “Tell me what I’ve missed.” 

And missed a lot you had. You listened intently as they all told you about their freshman year in school, thankful for the break. Dustin was already a semester ahead at Princeton, go figure. Will and Jonathan had settled down in NYC. Jonathan, you learned, was not visiting until Christmas Day. Too many obligations and not enough time to travel. But his mom and Hopper would be here tomorrow to begin more holiday festivities. 

Lucas and Max had just signed a lease on an apartment near Indiana State. Lucas made the basketball team, already gaining traction with recruiters. Mike was a year behind, letting El catch up with her schooling before they went to school near Montauk. Keeping Hopper and Joyce close. In the meantime, he picked up a passion for writing, no doubt why he was asking for pointers on publishing. 

“I barely finished my degree, Wheeler.” You admitted, doing school while the world was ending wasn’t ideal, but you made it work. Fresh out of college into the real world, you were still finding your bearings. “But I do have some work friends, I can get some numbers.” 

He seemed content with the answer, slinging his arm over your shoulder in a hug once more. It was then that the inevitable happened: Steve Harrington finally sauntered out of the kitchen. His eyes found yours in almost an instant, the room going still. 

He looked panicked, his footfalls freezing. You were sure you looked the same, frozen in shock. Your hands fumbling around with your bracelets, something to occupy your shaky hands. Nearly everyone looked away, glancing at each other with nervous eyes. Unwilling to watch the trainwreck unfold. Steve took the first step, his hand coming up in an awkward wave. 

“H-hey! Glad you could make it.” He stuttered out, nearly stumbling into the back of the couch. “Thanks for the wine. Do you want a glass?” He spoke too loudly, making Robin wince from behind him. It reminded her of his Scoops Ahoy days, talking too loudly when he was nervous. You stood up on shaky legs, the blood rushing to your head nearly making you dizzy. 

“Yeah, I can get it though-” 

“No!” He yelled, before running his hands through his hair, “No, I mean. You’re the guest. I can get it.” He was nervous, but in a way that had a pit forming in your stomach. 

“It’s okay.” You spoke softly, a tone that used to be reserved for just him. “I’ll get me and Robin a glass. You can’t uncork it right anyway.” 

Your words triggered a memory for both of you, one of you catching Steve shoving kitchen scissors into a half-broken cork, in an attempt to pour you a glass for dinner. He ended up pushing it further into the bottle. By the time you got it out, small pieces were floating around in your glass. You drank it anyway, straining out the small pieces with a grin on your face. Except this time, instead of the memory making you laugh, it made your heart stutter. 

“Y-yeah.” He grumbled, watching you walk past him with an awkward grin. The moment you set foot into the kitchen, you were taken aback by none other than Nancy Wheeler. She was standing against the stove, stirring a pot. 

“Hey?” You spoke, which sounded more like a question. 

She jumped, startled by your presence. “Oh, Y/n. Hi.” She gave you a wave, her eyes wide. You and Nancy were never particularly close; you weren’t the biggest fan of how she treated Steve in high school, but you had a lot of respect for the woman. You always considered her a good friend, but something about her standing in Steve’s kitchen made you regret ever coming tonight. 

“Nancy. How have you been?” You smiled, grabbing two wine glasses out of the cupboard, muscle memory taking over. But the cabinets had been moved around, you squinted. Before you could lean your head back to ask, Nancy was pointing at the cabinet next to it. 

“Wine glasses are in that one,” She spoke absentmindedly, unaware of your spiraling thoughts. “And I’ve been good! Boston is… nice.” 

You smacked your lips against your teeth, pulling out two glasses. Grabbing the corkscrew from the drawer. “That’s nice!” Your voice was a little too cheery when you uncorked the bottle, pouring yourself a larger glass than you needed. 

“How’s Chicago?” She asked, moving to check whatever bird was roasting in the oven. It was clear she wasn’t interested in awkward small talk, but you appreciated her attempt at it nonetheless. 

“Cold.” You gulped your glass, filling it up before setting it back in the ice. “Loud.” 

“Yeah,” She laughed, “Sometimes you forget how nice the quiet is until you’re back home. You really can get lost in the city life.” 

“Yeah.” You smiled at her, asking her if she would like a glass. She declined, but thanked you anyway. “Well, it’s been so good to see you.” 

Thankfully, you found Robin, shoving the wine into her hands. “Think Nancy Wheeler hates me?” You asked quietly, Robin’s demeanor going taut. 

She shook her head, taking a drink from her glass. That was all the answer you got from her before she pulled you back into the crowd. You mingled about, still not having caught a chance to meet Vickie. When Robin ran off to find her, you clung to Max’s side like following the light in the dark. You weren’t going to let her slip out of your life again; you weren’t going to let any of them. It was easy to avoid Steve, as he seemed content to step awkwardly around you most of the night. 

The tension was unspoken, but everyone felt it. It hangs heavy, just like the mistletoe in the bedroom hallway that mocked you each time someone came out of the bathroom. Memories of the two of you haunted every corner of this town, but this was the epicenter. The home that the two of you shared for months, the party that called you their parents. The house that would be yours the moment his parents decided to finally buy their beach house in Florida.

Maybe this would be easier if you pretended Steve hadn’t branded every part of your body. The tan line from the diamond that sat on your finger for almost a year wouldn’t fade, no matter how much you scrubbed. You both spent too much time in the sun last summer, lounging around the lakeside for days on end. Your hair, he loved, had been cut off, your hairstylist swearing hair held memories. With each snip, you willed Steve to leave your mind, but you instead just found yourself missing the parts of yourself he held in his hands. No matter how many times you changed your style or willed yourself to be anyone else. At the end of the day, you were always going to be his. There was a part of you that would never belong to yourself again. 

You turned to your left, and the redhead whom you thought was Max was now replaced by Vickie. The infamous girlfriend who had been running around all night, missing Robin at every turn. You smiled politely, “Vickie, right? Robin’s been looking for you.” 

She smiled widely, teeth showing at the mere mention of her girlfriend. “Yes! I was helping with the chicken, then the stuffing, then I had to go in the cellar for wine, but it’s so dark down there, and I’ve just been running around everywhere.” She was out of breath, nervousness rolling off of her. You could see now in startling clarity just how alike she and Robin were. 

“No, it’s okay. I’m fully convinced that the cellar is haunted.” You laughed, making her nod quickly. 

“Literally! Also, I’m not used to rich people, because why do you need a cellar full of wine in your house? It’s beyond me.” She whispered the first part, making another laugh slip through your lips. That laugh was cut short when your eyes glanced into the kitchen yet again. This time, catching Steve towering over Nancy. His body was nearly caging hers against the counter, his hand steady on the cabinet above her head. It was clear he meant to grab something out of it, but the two of them paused. Caught in the moment. Now you were caught in it too, staring like a fish out of water. 

It felt like you were intruding on an intimate moment, the way his eyes gazed down at her. Flicking back from her lips to her eyes. She did the same; it was buzzy. Even from far away, the tension between them radiated around the room, hitting you right in the chest. 

“I heard him and Nancy have been close ever since she came back,” Vickie smiled widely, somehow completely oblivious as to who you were. But she caught you staring quickly. It wasn’t her fault; you hadn’t been here when they started dating. Just through the tail end of Robin’s pining.  “He moved back home after he broke off his engagement. Real hallmark, you know? Holiday rekindling of old flames that never quite snuffed out, it’s sooooo romantic. Kinda like me and Robin if you think about it. High school lovers-” 

Her words made the wine you drank nearly come back up your throat, your eyes still locked on the pair. Tuning out her rambling, you let yourself look at him this time, really look. Steve looked the same, his hair a little longer. Undeniably, there was a spark lit back within him, one you had missed. A wide smile on Nancy’s face as they talked, his head leaned down to hear her better. If he moved down any closer, their lips would be touching. The sheer thought of you having to witness that made you look away, swallowing down bile that had risen. 

You supposed it’d make sense for him to move on; it had been months. Nothing was stopping either of you, but something about seeing it. About it being with Nancy, out of everyone. The same girl you’d compare yourself to late at night, the girl Steve swore he’d moved on from. It felt like someone had grabbed a knife and split your chest open. 

“Yeah, sure.” You managed, catching Robin’s eye as she walked over. She paused midwalk, staring from Vickie to you, back to Steve and Nancy across the way. 

“Oh fuck.” She said a little too loudly, all heads looking towards you all. Steve’s head pops up immediately, his eyes meeting yours. You knew this was a bad idea, a horrible, terribly bad idea. His body moved away from Nancy’s on instinct, but it was too late. Not like it mattered, not like anything mattered anymore. 

“Oh my god. You’re Y/n, aren’t you?” Vickie gasped, her hand coming up to grab your shoulder. “I’m so sorry. This is so not how I wanted to meet you, Robin told me to be on my best behavior-”

You cut her off with a wave, “It’s fine. It was really nice to meet you.” You gave her a practiced smile, stepping away from the wide-eyed ginger. “I’m just gonna go to the bathroom.”  

Your heels clacked against the floor loudly in the now quiet room, excusing yourself. You chugged down the rest of your glass, setting it on the table before stumbling into the bathroom. Your hand clenching your chest, searching for an open wound that wasn’t physically there. 

You leaned against the door, nearly falling to your knees in anguish. It felt childish; you had no claim over him anymore. Time had stretched a chasm between the two of you. But why did it feel like you were being split in two? 

You gathered your bearings, letting your hands grip the sides of the sink. Staring back at your reflection in the mirror. “Get over yourself, Y/n.” You all but slapped your own cheeks, psyching yourself up. “It’s fine. Have dinner, then leave. Have Christmas, then go home. You can just leave.” 

Within your own psychotic mumblings to yourself, you realized you weren’t any better than Steve, willing yourself to run away the moment things got complicated. 

Outside, back in the living room, the tension wasn’t any better. Vickie’s mouth was agape, Robin stumbling to her quickly. Steve was still frozen in place, eyes locked on where you had run to. Nancy simply crossed her arms, shrinking herself into the corner. 

“What was that?” Dustin broke the silence, watching Steve slowly regain control of his limbs again. 

“Vickie, honey sweetie baby. What did you say?” Robin’s voice was shaky, while Vickie continued stuttering out apologies. 

“Um. I just said- I don’t know.” She cried out, “I was just speaking. You know me. I just ramble sometimes, and she was looking at them, so I blurted out something-” 

“What did you say exactly?” Steve spoke up, Nancy closing her eyes. 

“Uh. I said something along the lines of ‘Wow, aren’t Steve and Nancy so cute? He left his fiancée and is back home with his ex. Like a bad Hallmark movie p-plot.” 

As soon as the words left her mouth, everyone in the room winced, “Vickie, sweetheart. Why would you say that?” Robin’s eyes closed. 

“I don’t know,” Tears were in the nervous girl's eyes, “I’m so sorry. It’s not my business. I shouldn’t have said anything.” 

“Yeah, it’s not.” Steve barked, a little too cruelly for Robin’s liking. 

“Hey, it was an accident.” She glared at her best friend, “Don’t blame her for misspeaking when you don’t even know what’s going on in your own life.”

Steve’s face fell, hating his business on display like this. 

“Wait,” Mike raised his hand, much like a child asking a question in class. “Are you and Nancy back together?” 

“No.” Steve and Nancy both scoffed in unison, the girl still trying to hide herself in the kitchen. 

“You guys have just been weirdly close,” he muttered, throwing his hands up in defense. 

“Okay, can everyone please get out of my business. Jeez.” Steve said, finally, holding his hands up. “Vickie, I’m sorry. Don’t feel bad. Besides, it doesn’t matter. We’re all adults here.” 

“Barely.” You spoke up, your voice making all of them jump. In the midst of the chaos, they didn’t even notice you slinking your way out of the bathroom. Posture upright, as if nothing had bothered you. A part of Steve hated how unbothered you looked, your lack of emotion sat heavily on his mind. 

“W-what?” He stuttered, looking at you. 

“You guys are barely adults.” You laughed, it was hollow. It didn’t quite reach your eyes, but no one noticed except for him anyway. “Jeez, who died?” 

“No one!” Nancy spoke up, opening the oven a little faster than she needed to. “Chicken’s done, can you guys set the table?”  

There was a mad dash around the room, everyone wanting to find something to occupy themselves. You found Vickie, wrapping your arms around the still trembling girl, promising her everything was okay. As soon as she steadied her breathing, Robin brought the two of you fresh glasses. You found a spot at the table between the couple and Max. You felt old helping Max pour herself a glass of wine. 

“You kids grow up fast.” You grumbled, sliding over the full glass to her. “Let me guess, everyone else wants one too?” 

A chorus of ‘yes mom’s’ made you chuckle, a flashback to just a year ago getting called mom at this same table. The bottle was emptied on Dustin’s glass, to which he gave you a playful wink, making your eyes roll. 

“How many girls are you wooing back at Princeton with that charm, huh?” You teased, sitting back down in your chair. 

“Oh, the ladies love me. I’m irresistible.” He purred, making the others groan playfully at him while sides got passed around. Everyone loaded up their plates, eating amongst quiet conversation. 

“God, Y/n, do you remember Tommy and Carol?” Robin asked, in between bites of a roll. 

You scoffed, “Unfortunately.” 

“They’re getting married. Steve got the invite last week. Twenty bucks says it’s a shotgun wedding.” She laughed. 

“Wait, what?” You gasped, “I didn’t even know they were back together?” 

“Yup, Tommy proposed on the football field,” Steve added, slowly joining in the conversation. “Think he’s trying to be a good person.” 

Robin just cringed, “Proposing on your high school football field to the girlfriend you consistently cheat on?”

“I hate the guy, but at least he’s trying.” Nancy shrugged, not meeting anyone's eyes. 

“But that’s total loser behavior.” Max joined in, “If Lucas proposed to me on the basketball court, I think I’d break his ankles so he could never play again.” 

Lucas just sighed, “And that’s why I love you so much.” 

“I think my dad did a good job proposing to Miss Joyce,” El spoke up with a smile. You remember hearing the news of that, tears prickling in your eyes as Joyce recounted the date he had set up. 

“Honestly, that was probably the best proposal to ever happen. Hard to top that.” You raised your glass. While it was honest, a simple nod to the two older parental figures in your life. It didn’t sit right with Steve, the words on the tip of his tongue. 

“I think my proposal was pretty good.” He grumbled into his plate, staring intently at the piece of chicken on his fork. 

How many times tonight were his words going to pause the room around him? An awkward silence fell once again, the tension rising from the floorboards. One you couldn’t blame on the haunted cellar below your feet. You downed yet another glass of wine. When the clink of the glass hit the table, you realized you shouldn’t have spoken, shouldn't have had that last glass. 

And El. Poor innocent sweet El Hopper just kept speaking, “How did you propose?” 

You forgot she wasn’t there, still being hidden away by Hopper in the Cabin during all the endless crawls. Murray had apparently spent weeks searching for the exact ring Steve wanted for you. Smuggling it inside an unsealed peanut butter bopper. The ring smelled like peanut butter for days after he slid it on your finger. It fit like a glove. You still felt empty without it, your hand subconsciously going to twirl the delicate band that was no longer there. 

Steve’s mouth fell open, his eyes darting to yours. You saved him from the awkward stumbling, giving her the softest smile you could muster. “It was sweet. He took me on a picnic to where we had our first date. Had candles. Robin made us a cake.” 

You tried not to let it show just how badly the memories hurt, instead smiling fondly at the table. There was no attempt at hiding your history together here; it bled into every memory. Being together with someone for years will do that to you; your lives are so interconnected that sometimes it is still hard to remember where he ends, and you begin. 

“I spilled wine all over her dress, and a bird ate the sandwiches I made while I was proposing.” Steve added, “It was a mess.” 

“It was perfect.” You shrugged, leaning over to grab another roll from the bowl. “So Mike, when are you proposing?” 

His eyes widen, and he stutters out a pathetic response. Max and El are giggling wildly at each other. Steve hated how well you were at changing the topic, deflecting the attention off of you two so smoothly. Hated how well the two of you worked in unison, in everything you did.

Dinner continued without another awkwardly timed comment, plates clattered as everyone took turns helping clean up. Dessert was cookies Vickie had made, the kids no doubt getting crumbles all over Steve’s overpriced couch. An hour of goodbyes later and the teenagers had scrambled back to their homes. Nancy left with Mike, giving you an awkward one-armed hug. You had all promised to see each other again before the break ended. Whispers of a New Year's Party, but nothing concrete. 

All while Steve’s gaze was burning into your back, watching your every move. It made your collar slick with sweat, your hands trembling with bundles of emotions. You needed air and a cigarette. Your effort to sneak out was thwarted by none other than Robin. 

“Leaving without a goodbye, Y/l/n?” Robin caught you, your hand still on the doorknob. 

“I know better than to Irish exit with you people, I’m just getting some air.” You promised her, two fingers came up to her eyes, pointing them back at you, signaling she was watching. You laughed on your way out, letting the cool air chill your skin. 

You walked out to his garage, leaning under the awning. To get away from the porch and prying eyes in the windows. You let your hands shake freely, dropping the nonchalant facade you held up for the past few hours. Letting that sickly sour feeling wash over you again. It was jealousy, anger, sadness, and something else you couldn’t quite place all wrapped around you at once. It was drowning in your own feelings, begging for one drop of air.

“So, about what you heard in there. With Nancy.” That was all he said, the back of your eyes prickling. You didn’t even hear him step outside, let alone stand beside you. You told yourself the tears were just from the cold air, but you knew better. 

“If I wanted to know, I would have asked.” You shrugged, “None of my business anyway, is it?” 

“It’s not what it looks like.” He pleaded.

All you could do was laugh, rummaging around in your purse for your cigarettes. A habit you picked back up again, the day after he left. You shoved the filter between your red painted lips, lighting it with ease. All while he stood and watched, eyebrows furrowed. 

“So it doesn’t look like you dumped me to come back home and fuck your high school ex?” You couldn’t help but let the words slip off your tongue. There it was, the anger of yours he had become familiar with. He knew it was there, boiling just under the surface. 

He sighed, “Nancy is still with Jonathan, you know. We’re just… friends.” 

“You seem real sure of that.” You scoffed, letting the smoke wrap around you like a security blanket. “Besides, doesn’t matter, does it? You’re single. You can do whatever you want.” 

He deflated, letting his hand rest on the porch. “Yeah. Guess so.” 

The silence was deafening, the snow still flurrying around the two of you. He couldn’t keep his eyes off you. In just the past few months, you’ve changed so much. Your hair was shorter, and your eye bags were evident. A hallowness was deep inside you, and the light drained from your eyes. And it was all his fault; he knew that. He watched your hand flick the cigarette, the absence of the gleaming diamond on your finger making his breathing stop. 

It didn’t even occur to him until now that this was the first time he’d seen you since he left. You were on his mind so often that it was as if he conjured up a new image of you every time his eyes opened in the morning. 

The guilt pressed down on his chest, thick and suffocating, and the silence between you stretched too long. Long enough for old wounds to start itching. Long enough for that anger to claw its way up your throat, hot and familiar. You’d learned how to survive by holding onto it, how to use it to pull yourself out of the days where feeling nothing felt worse.

“I wish you’d just tell me what you were really thinking.” He spoke up, his eyes drilling holes into the side of your face. 

You held onto tighter to the anger, the feeling comfortable in your hands. You’d rather feel angry than nothing else at all. So the insults began to slip out. If he was going to walk away and leave you again, you were going to make sure it was on your terms this time.

“Okay, do you really wanna know Mr. Peaked in high school?” You could barely believe the cruelty in your voice when you spat out the words, “I think you couldn’t make it in the big city. So to fuel your ego, you had to go home to our piss ant hometown and try to fuck your high school ex-girlfriend, right? Right back where you were in High School. Welcome back, King Steve!” 

He stuttered back a few steps, recovering quickly from the whiplash. 

“At least I’m not pretending to be happy. How is it up there on your high-horse? Because after this week, you’re going back to that lonely apartment.” He cackled, “Doesn’t matter how much money you make, how nice your clothes are, how much your snotty co-workers like you. You’re all alone out there. And I’ll be here, with my friends.” 

The emphasis of my didn’t get lost on you. You suppose he was right; they were his friends first before you ever joined them. His words pierced your heart, nearly knocking you off balance. You thought this was it, but oh, he wasn’t done.

“You can’t make the pain go away by treating me like a villain, Y/n.” He said, his voice softening. “I hurt you. I know I did, and I’m so sorry. I was only doing what I thought was right, for both of us. I was drowning.” His voice cracked on the word. Both of your resolves are crumbling around your feet like drywall. 

“We were supposed to drown together.” You snapped, “When you got down on one knee and put that ring on my finger, it was a promise. A promise to love each other through all the hard times, and you couldn’t even try. You just gave up on us. On me.” Your bottom lip wavered, staring down the man you loved more than life itself. 

“I was doing what I thought was right-” 

“Spare me the fucking bullshit.” You waved him off, “You could’ve sat me down. We could have talked it out like adults; instead, you ran home with your tail between your legs. Letting everyone feel bad for the boy whose fiancée left him in the dust-” 

“You don’t know anything.” He laughed dryly, his hands running feverishly through his hair. “When I came home, did you know the first thing everyone said to me? Everyone. Robin, the kids, my parents?” 

You stayed quiet, watching his chest heave. “They all said, “How did you ruin the best thing you’ve ever had?” He scoffed. 

“You left! That’s how!” 

“Remember that you let me leave.”

“What was I supposed to do, Steve?” You were in hysterics now, “Was me on my knees, begging and crying, not enough?” 

“You let me leave Y/n.” He repeated, “You changed your number, you stopped talking to everyone. The only thing left for me to do was to drive up there, but I knew you wouldn’t wanna see me.” 

“If you loved me, you would've.” You sighed, running your hands over your face. You were sick of the arguing, of the back and forth. 

“You could’ve visited too! You ghosted everyone. You didn’t just hurt me with the radio silence. You broke Max’s heart-” 

You stepped closer, pressing your finger harshly into his chest. “Leave them out of it.”

“You can’t even be honest with yourself.” He chuckled dryly. Watching you huff down the remnants of the cigarette that now stunk up his clothes. 

“You don’t know me.” 

“I think I know you better than you know yourself sometimes.” 

“My life is different now.” You let out a breath, stomping the cigarette butt underneath your boot. “Don’t pretend you know how I’m doing. Who I’m with. Because you don’t. You don’t know anything about me.” 

You knew what your words were implying when you said them, refusing to correct yourself. You wanted to see the hurt flash in his eyes, the same way yours did, seeing him and Nancy in the kitchen. But when the flash came, you couldn’t feel anything but guilt. Something shifted in those brown eyes of his; what started as hurt faded into something darker. 

“Is there someone else?” His eyes were ablaze, a darkness in them you hadn’t seen before. You stayed quiet, looking up at him through your lashes. Unable to speak, the closer he got with each step. “Tell me, is there someone else?” 

“And if there was?” You challenged, tilting your head at him. 

“Answer me.” He demanded softly, still walking towards you like a predator stalking prey. You took a step back, eyes never leaving his until your back from pressing his snow-covered car. He was inches away, still waiting for your answer. 

“It’s none of your business.” 

“Then why even mention it?” He chuckled darkly, his leg slotting in between yours. You were pushed further back into the car, his body now on yours. Nothing could change the chemistry between you two, not time. God himself couldn’t change the way your bodies drifted towards each other. You were the compass, and he was your true north. You’d always find yourself back here. On your way to him, in this town.

“Does it bother you?” You met his darkened eyes, “Thinking of someone else taking what you left behind?” 

“Don’t pretend-”

“Hey-oh whoa.” Robin’s voice broke you two out of your trance. The two of you were springing apart like there was a fire. Vickie’s hand was in hers, both clad in their coats, ready to leave. “Sorry. The snow is really coming down; we wanted to get back before it got any heavier.” 

Steve cleared his throat, leaning awkwardly against the hood of the car. “Yeah, course.” 

You walked forward, wrapping your arms around the two girls. Bidding them farewell, promising to see them soon. Robin left with a suggestive look towards you, making you flush. You watched her car roll down the road, feeling Steve’s eyes on your back. You don’t know how long you stood there, snow pelting your skin, before he spoke up. 

“At least get out of the snow, Y/n.” You turned back, stepping back onto his porch. 

“I should probably leave.” 

He didn’t say anything, simply walked ahead of you, opening his door. You looked around for your coat, scrambling around. Before you could get your second arm in your sleeve, he broke you out of your rushing trance. 

“Does he make you feel like I did?” 

You paused, letting the coat fall to the floor. “What?” 

He looked pathetic, his inhibitions falling when it was just you he was standing in front of. “Does he make you feel even a fraction of what I made you feel?” 

It took you a second to remember the way you avoided his question, letting him believe a false narrative he made up in his own head. It made every nerve in your body set ablaze, the idea of him being jealous. You let yourself fall into the feeling. 

“Does Nancy make you feel a fraction of what I made you feel?” You barked back, the tension rising. The two of you were playing with fire now, poking the bear just to see what would happen. This was foreplay, and after months of longing, the two of you were coiled tight. 

“So you are jealous,” He grinned devilishly at you. 

“You’re one to talk. You’re the one who pinned me to your car, ready to take me right there.” 

All he did was stalk closer, “And you liked it, didn’t you?” 

You were quiet, letting the air around you thicken. Yes, you liked it. It’s the first thing that got your blood pumping in months, a heat grew between your legs. A long-neglected aspect of your life you hadn’t thought of much until now.

“Yeah, you did.” He said cockily, watching your pupils go wide. Much like his. He knew your bedroom eyes well; he knew you were soaked underneath that satin skirt you had on.

“So what?” Your mouth was dry, meeting him halfway. The two of you are standing in front of the couch. 

“Did you miss me? Miss my cock?” His words made goosebumps rise on your skin. You forgot just how filthy his mouth was.  You remained quiet, the two of you in a standoff, to see who would break first. Your hands were clenched into fists, shaking wildly. 

“I missed your cock but not that mouth.” You regretted your words the moment they came out, because his eyes lit up. He knew he had you right where he wanted you. 

He then plopped onto the couch, his legs spread wide. You looked down at him in astonishment, “What-” 

“You want it so bad? Come get it.” He patted his lap, the bulge in his khakis prominent. 

“You’re such a cocky asshole, you know that?” You seethed, crawling into his lap regardless. Making yourself at home on top of his hips, “Acting like one taste of my pussy wouldn’t have you begging for more.” 

“Never said it wouldn’t,” he grinned. 

You weren’t sure who moved first, the next thing you knew, teeth were gnashing against skin. Lips pulled together tightly, hands squeezing and scratching wherever they could. It wasn’t gentle. It wasn’t careful. It was hunger and frustration and longing wrapped up in heat, the kind that burned instead of soothed. It was animalistic. Every kiss felt like a confession, every desperate grab a way of saying what neither of you had managed to put into words.

“Did you fuck her?” You asked with a growl, pulling his head back by the hair on his neck. He let out a grunt at the movement, his eyes snapping to yours. Taking him by surprise at your sudden violence, the green monster tugs at you. 

“Bet you wanna know-” 

You yanked harder, his neck jerking. “I asked you a question.” 

“F-fuck, no. No, I didn’t.” He whined, “She loves Jonathan.” 

“Would you have fucked her? If she wanted to?” 

“Probably.” The admission was sharp, his eyes pleading with you. 

No words could match how you were feeling; instead, you brought your lips to his in a bruising kiss. As if you could will away any memory of her lips from his. Nails scraped against skin, leaving a painful reminder of you on his body.

No time was wasted in undressing; your shirt was pulled open. Your skirt pulled up over your hips.

“Baby, let me get you ready.” His hands slid up under your skirt, pulling your soaked panties to the side. His fingers were swiping at your entrance. He sensed your urgency, not wanting to hurt you. 

You shook your head, continuing to pull his pants down to his knees. Still straddling his lap, you pulled his hand away despite his protests. 

“Just need you, please.” The words were thick in your mouth, hovering on top of his hardened cock. Steve was well endowed; it took your body years to become used to his size. Now that it had been months, surely it would be difficult. But you were a masochist. You wanted it to hurt; you needed it to hurt. It’s what you felt like you deserved. 

He hesitated, but nodded. Trusting you to make your own decision, his breath hitching when your wet slit rubbed against his tip. His hands braced your hips as you slid down, taking a few inches in a fast thrust. 

The gasp that left your mouth was inhuman, your body falling into his hold. “Baby,” He hissed, “I told you to let me-” 

You shushed him, the stretch burning in a sick twisted pleasure as you moved further down. Taking all nine inches of him in a gentle swoop. “Needed this. Just like this.” You cried out, your clit rubbing against the coarse hair that sat above his cock. 

“Yeah? No one else can fill you up like this, baby.” He grunted, his hold on your hips sure to leave bruises. “Can they?” 

You shook your head, grinding down on him slowly. Letting your cunt adjust to the intrusion, soaking him in your arousal. 

“Have you been fucking other men, baby?” He mocked the slow, gentle circles he rubbed on your skin, contrasting with his evil words. 

You didn’t respond; you couldn’t not while you were still catching your breath. “Bet every time they fucked you with their tiny cocks, you thought of me, huh? Couldn’t quite reach where I can.” 

“Shut. Up.” You grumbled, pretending like you weren’t clenching around him at his words. 

You lifted your hips, pulling off of him except for an inch before slamming back down. This cut him off from his next taunt, letting out a guttural moan instead. He was quiet after, helping you find a gentle rhythm. Your hips stuttered each time they met his, his bulbous tip hitting your sweet spot each time. 

Neither of you was going to last long; you could feel it in the way his muscles tensed. Both of you hadn’t felt the touch of another since your last night together. You were both lost in the feeling, riding his cock like you’d die without it. 

“Take that fucking cock.” He sighed, throwing his head back into the couch cushions. 

“Do you ever shut up?” You stuttered, your fingernails digging harshly into his shoulder blades. Lost in the feeling of him, before he stopped you. Holding your hips down on him, you barely got a chance to speak before he lifted his hips. Thrusting up into you experimentally, your eyes rolling in the back of your head. 

“Tell me how good it feels,” He panted, ignoring how you struggled to bounce in his lap. “Tell me, or I’ll stop.” 

You were quiet, meeting his eyes. “You wouldn’t.” You called his bluff, but unfortunately, he was serious as he began to slide you off his lap, excruciatingly slow. 

“W-wait,” You cried out, placing your hand on his chest. “Please don’t stop.” 

He thrusted up into you slowly, “Be a good girl and tell me how my cock feels splitting you apart.” 

“God,” You sobbed, bracing yourself in his hold as he let you bounce on him once again. “Feels so good. S’fucking good baby. Please don’t make me stop.” 

“S’what I thought.” His hand slapped your ass harshly, gripping the flesh to help guide you in taking him with each swivel of your hips. In the chaos, he leaned forward, pressing sloppy kisses to your neck.

“Where’s the ring?” He growled, his teeth biting against the flesh of your collarbone. 

One of your hands was now laced in his hair, the other pressed firmly on his chest. “W-what?” You slurred, his pace still unrelenting. Fucking his hips up into yours without a care in the world. 

“The ring. I want it on your hand.”

“You d-don’t deserve it being on my hand.” You barked back, letting your fingernails dig into his chest. The pain only spurred him on. 

“I know.” He grunted, planting his feet.“Doesn’t mean I don’t wanna fuck you with nothing but that ring on your hand.” 

“Jesus.” You grumbled, nearly losing your balance. His hands gripped your hips tighter, taking over your movements completely. Fucking up into you as if you weighed nothing, your head falling back. 

“This fucking pussy missed me, huh?” He grunted, as if the lewd sounds of your cunt squelching for him weren’t enough. Steve always had a filthy mouth; it only got worse when he had something to prove. 

“Fuck you.” You whined, blindly covering his mouth with your hand. In return, all he did was bite down gently on your digits, continuing on. 

“That’s exactly what I’m doing.” His words were muffled, your body coming apart on top of his. You screaming out his name only spurred him on, emptying his load deep inside your cunt. With each clench around him, you took him in deeper, holding onto him for dear life as you both rode out your orgasms with each other. 

Sweat lined your skin. Steve’s warm lips were against your skin. Relishing the feeling of you still around him. 

“You okay?” He mumbled, your eyes slowly fluttering back open. You didn’t know what you felt, now stuck in the after. After this complicated line was crossed. Where were you to go now? 

“It’s late.” You said shakily, lifting your hips off of him slowly. Tears prickling your eyes when you were faced with the emptiness when he slipped out of you. You ignored his worried eyes, pulling your skirt back down. Fumbling with your shirt buttons. 

“You,” He cleared his throat, pulling his boxers back up, “Don’t have to run out. You can stay. Wait a minute-” 

“No, I should go.” You said clearly, stumbling around to collect your things. 

“You’ve had a lot to drink, what we did-” He paused, “You need a minute to calm down.” 

“I haven’t been drunk since we argued outside. I can’t use the wine as an excuse for this.” You rubbed messily at your eyes. “I’ll be safe, I just can’t be here. I need to go.” 

He stopped you at the door, holding onto your hand. “Please call me when you get home. Or I’ll come over to check myself.” 

You did call him that night, keeping it short and sweet before you trudged up to your room. Screaming into your pillowcase. You didn’t expect the night to go as it did, your heart unable to handle it. You woke up the next day with an emotional hangover, trudging through the next few days like a zombie. 

You kept your promises, getting coffee with Robin. Going Christmas shopping with Max and El. You even spent lunch with your mother, ignoring her judgmental glares when you told her that you and Steve didn’t magically get together over one Christmas party. 

Christmas Eve night, and the house was quiet, aside from the phone ringing loudly off the hook at 10 before midnight. You nearly tripped racing to the phone, picking it up in haste. 

“Hello?” You spoke into the receiver quietly, praying neither of your parents would pick up the other line. 

“Hey.” Steve’s voice rang out quietly, “Sorry if I woke you.” 

“Couldn’t sleep.” You admitted, imagining him in his bed. The phone nuzzled between his cheek and neck. 

“Me neither.” His voice was deeper than normal. Thick with sleep, and an unknown emotion. Your teeth bit down on your bottom lip, refusing to make the first move. You knew why he called you, and you hated that he knew you’d answer. 

“Do you remember our old spot?” He finally spoke.

You were grateful that he couldn’t see your smirk through the phone, “I remember.” 

“You can say no, but I can be there in 10.” 

You should’ve said no. You should’ve told him you planned to drive home tomorrow, to leave this town with your tail between your legs. Unable to face what you’d done. But lines have already been crossed; what was one more time? So the words were leaving your mouth before you had the chance to reconsider the consequences. 

“I’ll see you there.” 

Minutes later, you had pulled your car into the abandoned parking lot, right between Hawkins High and Hawkins Presbyterian. It was here that you felt 17 again, sneaking behind your parents' backs to meet up with a boy. Going from one backseat to another. When the familiar rumble of Steve’s beamer pulled up beside you, it was the soundtrack to your teenage years. His engine turning off, his stumbling as he clambered into your passenger seat, as he belonged there. 

His cheeks were flushed from the cold. “Hey.” 

“Hey.” You replied, just as awkwardly as he did. “Merry Christmas.”

He made the first move, cupping your face in his large hand. Forcing you to look at him. “You’re so beautiful.” 

No makeup on, in ratty high school pajamas, hair a mess in the moonlight. You were the most beautiful girl he’d ever seen; nothing would change that. 

“What are we doing?” You frowned, ignoring the way you nuzzled into his palm. 

He only repeated your words with a gentle tone, “You tell me.” 

“I don’t know.” You found yourself leaning in, chasing his lips with your own. 

You hated how well you knew each other, falling into a rhythm as if there wasn’t a chasm between the two of you. It took all but a few kisses before you were stumbling into the backseat, clothes getting pulled off in every direction. 

“Let me take care of you, please.” He was all but begging against your lips, his hands tugging at your pajama pants. Who were you to deny him? 

It took a while to get a comfortable position, grown-up bodies not quite slotting together in the leather seats as teenage ones once did. Your head was leaning against the door, cushioned by an old hoodie as Steve lay half on the floor. His lips were trailing messy kisses up your thigh, before his tongue hit your quivering clit. 

“Oh my god.” Your body immediately convulsed, head twacking against the car door by accident. You couldn’t find it in yourself to care as his mouth worked magic on you. Slowly inching his fingers deep inside you, curling them just enough to have you see stars. 

It was moments like this that you were reminded of just how well he knew your body, playing you like a piano. Knowing exactly how to make you scream. So there was no surprise when a short few minutes later, you were coming apart on his face, lazily grinding against his nose. Chasing every ounce of pleasure from him. He would’ve kept going if you hadn’t stopped him with a short pull of his hair. 

“I might get a concussion if we don’t switch.” You giggled, sitting up slowly. Having hit your head against the car door enough. “And you don’t need anymore head injuries.” 

He laughed, but paused when he saw you flip over. Settling on your hands and knees for him, your glistening cunt wide on display for him. 

“Jesus, fuck.” His cock got even harder if possible, as he balanced on his shaky knees. “Are you sure?” 

“Yeah, please.” You wiggled your hips at him, making more curses slip from underneath his breath. You wanted to wrap your mouth around him, but the limited movement didn’t allow for that. You heard him pull his boxers down, leaning forward with a cupped hand to your mouth. 

He didn’t even need to give you directions; you were spitting into his hand. He used this to stroke his cock lazily, not as if he needed it since he worked you open this time. 

Your hands were gripping the door when he slowly pushed in, the angle even deeper than the last time. His hand settled on your lower back while he pressed against your womb with each shift of his hips. 

“S’fucking deep.” You babbled, “I love your huge fucking cock.” 

Your praise only made him twitch deep inside you, dragging against your warm walls. “S’all yours. Your fucking cock, baby. Only f’you.” 

You cried out his name when he moved. It was hot and fast. Both of you were chasing your highs greedily as the car rocked. The only sounds were the pornographic moans slipping through your lips and the harsh recoil of his hips hitting against your ass. 

“Need you to cum again for me, baby.” He grunted through his teeth, his hand reaching between your legs to rub circles on your swollen clit. “Gotta feel it.” 

With a fast nod, your cunt squelched around him. Your hand slid across the frosted glass, cooling your warmed skin as he trailed kisses up and down your spine. Coaxing you through the orgasm that had your legs trembling. 

“Cum inside me.” You cried out, repeating it over and over. “Mark me as yours.” 

“All your’s baby. Yeah, oh fuck yeah- take that cum.” He stuttered, his hips stilling as he emptied inside of you. Filling you up once more, plugging your cunt full of him. His fingers kept rubbing your clit slowly, feeling each twitch of your cunt suckling in his cum. “Good girl, taking it all.” 

“Fuck.” You whined when he slowly pulled out, helping clean you both up. 

He ended up on his back, pulling you onto his chest, awkwardly cuddling in the backseat. Your face nuzzled into his side, hand trailing fingers through his chest hair. A place on his side that was once yours every night.

“If you love me here, why can’t you love me there?” You asked, his chest stilling. 

“I never stopped loving you. I haven’t even tried, I just know it’s not possible.” He admitted, his hand running through the ends of your hair. This hair now held memories of him, too. 

“Like it. Your hair.” He admitted. 

“Only cut it because it reminded me of you.” You admitted back, closing your eyes. Letting the beat of his chest echo in your ears. If this was going to be the last time the two of you were ever like this, you were going to cherish it. Even if it was in the backseat of your car, his head was awkwardly propped against the foggy windows. 

“I didn’t cut my hair because I knew no one else would cut it like you.” He sighed, his hands stilling on your scalp. 

“We’re hopeless.” He couldn’t help but agree, holding you even tighter. 

“Do you wanna go back to my house?” He spoke quietly, not wanting the night to end. Not here, not in the backseat of your SUV like lovesick teenagers. 

You didn’t even have to think when you nodded, the two of you dressing in comfortable silence. When you got to his house, he slipped your coat off your shoulders, a practiced motion you got down after years of Indiana winters. His hair was damp from the snow and sweat, tiny curls appearing on his forehead and the back of his neck. Your fingers ached to trace the spiral. 

“I have some cider.” He spoke up, “Could warm us up.” 

“You should steal some of your dad’s bourbon. I can spike it.” You smiled, but it didn’t quite reach your eyes this time. 

“I like the way you think.” He parted with a kiss on your forehead. Leaving you to grab two mugs, warming up the apple cider. Successfully spiking it with the decanter he brought back. You migrated to the couch, settling in the spot across from him. The drink burned your throat, the spice settling deep in your chest. 

“We’re gonna have to talk about it, you know?” He spoke, setting his mug down on the table. Leaning back on the couch, one arm spread against the back of it. “Like actually talk about it.”

He looked good, too good. The dark red cashmere contrasts against his pale skin, his still-damp hair falling across his forehead. Your fingers ached to run your hands through his locks again, to press your lips to his exposed neck. 

“Tis the damn season.” You said sarcastically, your hand still gripping your mug tightly. Willing the spiked cider to enter your bloodstream faster. “It doesn’t have to mean anything. Just a weekend where we let ourselves pretend everything was okay.” 

“It means everything, and you know that.” He spoke quickly, his eyes squinting at you. 

Your mouth went dry, taken aback by his words. You knew it did the moment you two crossed the line that it was more than just sex. It could never be just sex between the two of you.

“Okay..” You slumped in your seat, “What does it mean then? Tell me. Because on the same day you were giving Nancy heart eyes, you fucked me on your couch.”

“I don’t see Nancy as anything other than a friend.” He swore, “I’ll admit, it was nice to feel wanted, I guess. I was lonely, and she was here. It was easy to slip into old shoes, harmless flirting. At first, just longing for someone. But Nancy.. We’d never work out. She still loves Jonathan, and I’d never get over you.” 

“There’s no one else.” You admitted, answering his question from days ago. “I was just riling you up. Which was very toxic of me, but you’re hot when you’re making assumptions. I went on one date, snuck out through the back door of the restaurant, crying.” 

While the thought made his stomach coil, he couldn’t stop the loud laugh that left his lips. “You’re kidding.” 

“No, it was embarrassing,” You giggled, “He ordered garlic bread, hold the garlic, so it was just bread. And when I asked him why he didn’t just say bread, he said it wasn’t the same. The only thing I could think of was ‘Wow, Steve would make fun of him with me’. So I cried and left.” 

“I would’ve made fun of him with you, but he didn’t deserve to go on a date with you.” He frowned a little through his laughs, “No one does.” 

A sharp silence sat between you two. Snow was still falling from outside, and Cider still steamed in your mugs. The room smelled like pine needles and cinnamon.

“I don’t know what to do,” You admitted, feeling small under his gaze, “We both hurt each other, but have we hurt each other too much? Can we take back the things we said?”

“No,” Steve said.

 Finally, after a brief moment of silence, your heart sank. So this was it, after everything, this was the closure you were avoiding. The kind that snuffed out the last bit of hope you’d been clinging to, leaving you no soft place to land. 

“We can’t take it back. We said those things because we were scared and hurting, and pretending we didn’t mean it at the time isn’t gonna fix anything.” 

His words hit like a gunshot at point-blank range. You took a moment to let the words sink in. 

You swallowed hard, nodding. “So that’s it, then.”

He shook his head. “No. Not if you don’t want it to be.”

You looked up at him, confused. Unsure if it was the cider speaking, or him. But when you caught his eyes, they were clear and determined. 

“We can’t go back to how we were. That much is obvious. Too much time has passed. We’ve both changed, I know I’ve changed.” He let out a soft laugh, “But that doesn’t mean it’s the end.” 

Silence stretched between you two, no longer a sharp sting- just a heavy weight over the two of you. 

“I spent months convincing myself that I made the right decision. I hurt you, I know I did. And there’s not a day that goes by, Y/n, that I don’t regret that.” He admitted, “I was lost. I was so lost and in my head, and I thought the only way to find myself again was space. I just kept thinking that if I stayed, you’d end up resenting me. That you’d wake up one day and realize you’d slowed yourself down for someone who couldn’t keep up. That you’d hate me the same way my dad hates my mom for ever keeping him in this town.” 

His words were heavy with emotion, cut off by your shaky voice. “You didn’t have any right to make that decision without me.” 

“God, I know,” he said. “But at the time, I couldn’t breathe. I was just treading water every day. I didn’t know who I was anymore, and I was terrified you’d end up hating me. So I did the worst thing possible and sped up the process.” 

“I don’t hate you,” You spoke quickly, “Steve, I could never hate you. Trust me, I tried.” 

He cracked a sad smile at that, his thumb rubbing over the edge of his now-chilled cider. 

“I guess I just thought leaving would give you space to become everything you were meant to be,” he said. “And maybe give me time to figure myself out. Looking back, yeah. I’d go back in time and change it if I could, but I can’t.” 

“Did it?” You asked, “Give you time?” 

He shook his head, cruel amusement on his lips. “Just made me realize that losing you made my life so much worse than it was. You changed, you know?” 

You raised an eyebrow at him, “The hair isn’t that big of a deal.” 

“Not that. You don’t need me the way you used to. You’re more sure of yourself, I can tell. And that scares me, because I know we can’t come back and expect things to be the same.”

“I don’t want the same,” you sighed. “I just don’t want to lose you again.”

He was quiet for a moment, then said, “Maybe we don’t decide everything right now.”

You glanced back at him. “What do you mean?”

“I mean… we take it slow,” Steve said. “No promises we can’t keep. No rushing back into forever just because we miss each other. Let me earn your love again. Let me earn you putting that ring back on your finger. I’ll do it all over again. I’ll even get back down on one knee.” He brought his hand to yours, lacing your fingers together. Tracing the empty spot on your left ring finger. 

You nodded slowly. “No running this time.”

“No running,” he agreed, bringing your hand up to his mouth. Pressing the gentlest kiss to your knuckles.

It wasn’t forgiveness, not in the traditional sense. No one tells you what to do when someone you love hurts you, so you hurt them back twice as hard. It wasn’t a clean slate; there was no pretending to patch over bullet holes with cheap plaster. Starting over didn’t erase the hurt or fix the cracks in the foundation. It just meant choosing each other again, knowing exactly what it could cost. But waking up every day, fighting for each other instead of against one another, felt like something worth risking the pain for. 

Vox managed to stoke the flame that was your wanton desires and needs, but now you were dwindling away into a pile of soot. You were deprived of him. 

You stared at your reflection in the dirty restroom mirror of the club. You had still been lingering around in the dark, hazed room after your latest hook-up. You don’t even remember who the poor sinner of the evening was that had been the target of your pent-up rage. 

Your lipstick had been smudged across to the corner of your mouth, mascara smeared under your eyes, and a plethora of hickies scattered all over your neck. Normally, you’d feel a little embarrassed about the very obvious display of how your evening went. But all of your drinks from the evening clouded your head with thoughts of indifference — not caring about any opinions that could arise from this night. 

You stumbled out of the restroom to be met by the thick air of nicotine and body heat that flooded the room. All the bright neon and flashing lights blinded you, a fierce contrast from the low lighting restroom you were just in. In your drunken daze, you stumbled around the club floor to find your friends to let them know that you’d be heading back to the tower. 

“Oh, please, we’ll go home with you — we’re not letting your sorry-ass walk solo,” One of your friends had waved off. The five of you rallied together and swiftly escaped from the confines of the club. Luckily, the journey back would be pretty brief, and so the lot of you decided to huff-it. 

On the trek home, the five of you shared a pack of cigarettes that one of them had bummed off their flirt-of-the-night. The end of the evening was spiraling to a very sweet conclusion, all of you leaning against one another for physical support and passing underneath the dimly lit street lights of the city. It was nights like these that made you miss seeing the stars on Earth. 

As you were nearing the tower, one of them perked up with a sizzling inquiry of “so what’s going on between you two?”. Against your better judgment, you began mouthing-off to your friends about Mr. TV Head with genuine malice. You knew the cameras would be picking up on all of your conversation, and you especially knew that Vox would be watching. Unless he was caught up with Valentino. Either way, you didn’t fucking care anymore — you’d let him know straight to his face that you were pissed. 

Once you all bid each other a good night and separated into your respective sects of the tower, you felt the weight of the evening droop off of your shoulders. And the final amount of vigor you had that supported your journey home wore off. You barely supported yourself upright in the elevator as you were shot up to the floor where your little apartment was. 

Your vision blended a lot of the colors and lights together into one unified splotch, and it was a major struggle to even fish your keys out of your purse to make it to homebase. It was pitch black inside your home, only the bleeding light of Hell’s skylight seeped in through the window. Steadily, you floundered toward your bedroom, using the door frame and walls as guiding support. 

“Welcome home, sweetheart,” 

“FUCK!” You yelped at the greeting. You had just made it into the doorway of your bedroom and had been met with the bright, glowing cyan screen that was Vox. “What the fuck are you doing here?” You cried, still catching your breath from the scare that he gave you. Your claw laid over your chest, feeling the fast rate your heart was pulsing at. 

Vox had been leaning back in the vanity chair in your room, stripped down of his work clothes and lounging in your home in a sweater and a lighter-colored pair of slacks. He looked good casual. But you sure as hell weren’t going to admit that now. 

“I wanted to pay a visit to my favorite sinner,” Vox had a lazed smile on his screen, leaning forward with his hand under the bottom of his screen — ogling what little he could see of you in the dark. 

“Yeah, sure, whatever,” You dismissed with a frustrated huff, trying your best to ignore his existence all together. His favorite sinner? Yeah right. This motherfucker couldn’t even hold a non-work conversation with you for more than five minutes before getting snatched up by someone else.  

He had snapped his fingers and turned on the dimmed lights of your bedroom, now being able to relish in how you had looked tonight. Vox wouldn’t say it to you directly, but you looked like a goddamn mess. Your hair had stuck to the sweat that was on your face, makeup a mess, and clothing was crumpled. 

But most notably to Vox, your skin was completely covered in miscellaneous purpling and reddish welts. He could feel his systems start to overheat, his screen starting to shift color hue from the previous cooling blue to a fierce, angry red. 

“WHAT THE FUCK?” Vox had roared. All of the lights in your room began to flicker erratically, threatening to burst if you said the wrong thing. Normally, you would be mortified to be the recipient of his targeted anger — but in this instance you were too smoked out to even care if you died. 

“Is there something wrong?” You dryly asked him, assuming correctly that he was upset at the evidence of your tryst. You looked at him with a sullen face of disappointment, faded anger still evident on you. 

“What the fuck is that on your neck,” He hissed out, eyes pulsating with fervid colors of anger. 

“None of your fucking buisness is what,” You sneered back at him. He approached you like a predator, bright blue sparks firing off from the back of his screen. Vox was seething with rage, and he was fighting the urge to tear up your home as a pitiful act of ire. 

“It certainly is my fucking business," Vox shot back, tightening his hands into balled fists. He met you toe-to-toe, trying his hardest to regulate the jealousy he was feeling seeing you like this. 

“Why? Because we’re fuck buddies? Last I checked, you’re the one that’s still actively in a relationship,” You pointed at him with an accusing finger. “You’ve got Valentino, I’ve got whoever wants me for the evening — I’m just making this relationship fair.”

“Who was it?” Vox’s hand came up around your throat, progressively tightening his squeeze. He was letting his emotions get the better of his mind. 

“Who cares,” You spit on his screen, pushing against his chest to get away from him. As you began walking away, Vox grabbed you by the wrist and pulled you back into him. 

“Get a fucking reality check,” You yelled. “You’ve practically been ignoring me for the last two weeks. What else am I supposed to do?” Vox’s grip on you tightened, threatening to snap your bones in half. 

“Valentino, he’s been-“

“No. Don’t blame this on him. You’re the one playing the balancing act right now,” You scolded, taking this opportunity to snatch your wrist back from him. The irrationality of Vox’s anger sizzled into a stupor once hearing your words.

Once again, you were right. However, in this moment, his pride swallowed him whole. He didn’t want to admit that he was a fool, no matter how deeply he understood that it’s all his fault. 

Like most arguments with Vox, they started wildly and ended as soon as you markedly point out how irrational he was being. While Vox was a simmering, seething baby — he listened to you. He valued what you had to say, even if he didn’t like bending the knee to you.

“Let me make it up to you,” 

You expected another retort from him, even him breaking something in your house. Anything that encouraged the fearsome emotions he had been feeling. You could tell that he wasn’t necessarily apologetic, especially while his petty jealousy took over. But something in the gravel of his voice made him seem earnest. 

You were met with a firm, passionate kiss from him. His hand had trailed to the small of your back, holding you tenderly against him. There was a part of you that wanted to shove him away again, continue berating him and release your frustrations onto him. But you couldn’t help feeling absolute bliss at this small contact. 

You missed the warmth of his lips on yours, the light flavoring taste of mint on his tongue. Even if this passion erupted from stupid jealousy, you welcomed him into you regardless. 

Your hands traveled from his chest to the back of his neck, pulling him closer to you. You stumbled backward toward your bed, gliding Vox down with you and letting him push you down against the mattress. 

Kissing him was intoxicating, and his warm touch kept you drunk on his touch. You wrapped your legs around his hips, making sure every part of you was latched onto him. 

Vox’s hand reached up for your face, squeezing the sides of your face and pulling back from you. He gave you a once-over, looking mostly at your face — focusing on your slightly puffy lips and wide eyes. 

“I think you need a reminder about who makes you feel good,” Vox slid two of his fingers into your mouth. And you happily accepted the intrusion, swirling your tongue around him. You kept your eyes on his as you sucked on his claws, thoroughly wetting them. 

With his free hand, he reached up under the fabric of your dress and began to pull your underwear down your legs. He didn’t fully remove them off of you — just enough to get what he wanted. 

He withdrew his fingers from your mouth, bringing them to your pussy. Vox slowly teased your folds, gliding his fingers all over you but not giving you any sort of relief. You mewled out pathetically, clutching onto his shoulders and grinding your hips against Vox’s hand. 

“V-Vox, please,” You choked, leaning your face closer to his. Vox dipped his head down, admiring how cute you looked in this disheveled state. His other hand reached for his belt buckle, slowly undoing it while teasing your dripping pussy. Two of Vox’s fingers prodded at your entrance, barely dipping past your threshold — causing you to whimper out more pleas. 

“Beg for it,” He breathed against your lips, only making your desire grow more desperate. You arched your back off the mattress, trying to bring your body as close to him as possible.  

“Please, Vox, I need to feel you inside me,” You pleaded. “I need you so fucking bad,” Vox was grinning wide at your pitiful attempts at getting him to touch you.

“You have to make me a promise, baby,” Vox growled, slowly kissing down your body. Every single kiss and lick had you softly moaning, each static buzz leaving chills down your spine. 

“I can be the only one to fuck you, got it?” He pinched your nipple, drawing a high-pitched whimper from you. Your body felt like it was on fire — you needed him inside you, make you cum, fuck your brains out. He could’ve asked for you to bind your soul to his and you would happily do it if it meant that he’ll ruin you. 

“I promise,” You stifle out. “You’re the only person who can fuck me.” 

As soon as the words left your lips, Vox sunk his fingers deep into your pussy. You cried out in satisfaction as he immediately began to abuse your wet folds. Vox dipped his head down to you, swallowing up your moans. 

You were writhing underneath him, desperate to cum on his fingers. Your claws dug into the thin fabric of Vox’s shirt, tearing through the material and leaving red lines along his dark blue skin. 

Vox’s thumb began to roll over the bump of your clit, the light touch pulling a strained moan from you. Your thighs tightened around Vox’s wrist, an involuntary reaction to the stimulation you were feeling. With his free hand, he pries your legs back open again — fingerfucking you faster.

“If you want to cum, you better keep your legs spread for me, baby,” Vox chuckled, dragging his claws against the soft flesh of your thigh. Just him fingering you now felt so intense, more so than the hook-up you had earlier.

Sometimes you regret even thinking of hunting down a new sinner to be the target of your lust — especially when Vox could make you feel this good. He knew your body better than anyone else, so why else even bother seeking someone that wasn’t him? 

“V-Vox,” A strained cry. “I’m gonna c-cum.”

Your climax was steadily approaching with each fast-paced thrust from Vox, your eyes squeezing shut and preemptively preparing for your orgasm. But as soon as your relief was about to arrive, he withdrew his fingers from your pussy. 

You let out the most pathetic whine Vox had ever heard. You were very obviously upset at the denial of your orgasm, clenching around nothing and your hips still lightly thrusting up to find some stimulation. 

“You were pretty bad tonight, baby,” Vox cooed, tracing circles around your navel. “I don’t think you deserve to cum yet.” He grinned from ear-to-ear as you groaned in response. 

“Please, I’ll do anything.” You mewled, maneuvering around to splay out before Vox’s lap. Your hands wandered over his thighs, sliding upward toward his belt buckle. 

“If you’re good, maybe I’ll give you what you want.” Vox teased, his large hand coming down to cup around your cheek. His thumb brushed over your swollen bottom lip, daring to dip into your mouth once again. Your fingers fumbled around with the belt buckle and leather, clawing away at the material like you were eagerly opening a present.

Pulling down his underwear, you watched Vox’s cock spring out and lightly smack your cheek. His thumb pushed down on your chin, opening your mouth wider. Without a second beat, you began to swirl your tongue over the head of his cock. Your tongue lapped over the slit, drinking up the little beads of pre-cum that began to leak out from him. 

Vox’s hand entangled itself in your hair, holding you firm by your scalp as you sunk the entirety of his cock into your mouth. You sheepishly looked up at Vox from your position, continuing to devour him whole and drag your tongue over his length. 

Drool dribbled down his shaft, wetting the fabric of his pants. Vox’s grip on your hair tightened, holding you in place while he lightly thrusted his hips upward into your mouth. You gagged at the sudden change of pace, but happily adjusted to this. You hollowed out your cheeks and kept your suction on him tight. 

Vox continued to fuck your face, smiling wide as he watched your eyes roll to the back of your head and your mouth becoming slack for him to use. His pace hastened as he began to reach his climax, a series of moans spilling from him. You kept your head down as Vox came into your mouth, drinking up every drop you could. 

You looked up at Vox, tongue lolled out and covered in cum. He groaned in satisfaction at the sight, drawing his fingers to your chin and closing your mouth before whispering “swallow.”  

Despite the arrival of his orgasm, Vox was already hard again. He couldn’t help it; seeing you in such a state of subservience and compliance to him fueled his arousal and his pride. Vox needed to have more of you tonight. 

Vox drew you closer to him, seating you on his lap. His large hands fell to your waist, caressing your body as he made his way down to your hips. He held onto you tight and lifted you from his lap, sliding his cock into your dripping pussy. The moment he slid into you, both of you let out soft moans. 

You pressed your forehead against his body as he began to slowly push up into you. His nails dug into the soft flesh of your hips as he fought the urge to completely fuck you braindead right here and now. Vox let you set the pace, albeit it was much more gentle than he anticipated. 

Still, being inside you was pure nirvana for Vox. He could feel your walls clenching around him as you rolled your hips back and forth. Vox couldn’t help but let a few curses slip from his mouth as you continued your grinding. His eyes squeezed shut, biting down on his bottom lip. 

“Fuck, you feel so good,” He was sounding so pathetic, voice crackling and meek. Vox couldn’t help it anymore. His arms wrapped around your waist as he laid back into the bed, thrusting his hips quickly up into you. Your hands immediately shot for your mouth, feebly attempting to muffle out the sounds of your pleasure. 

“Let me hear you, sweetheart,” Vox cooed, reaching up to pull your hands away from you. He drew your arms behind your back, holding them in place as he continued to fuck up into you aggressively. With the newfound pace and unfiltered volume, you were practically crying out for Vox. 

You were dumbly babbling out for him to let you cum. The sound of your bodies melding together and the drone of your moans were like a symphony to Vox’s ears. He was loving being your undoing. 

“Tell me that I’m the only one who can fuck you like this.”

“You’re the only one-” A hiccup of pleasure, head lolling back. “Who can fuck me like this.” 

Hearing your compliance was the final thing Vox needed to hear to send both of you over the edge. He drew his thumb over your clit once more as he continued to plunge himself into you. You let out a cry of pleasure as he abused your clit, desperate to get you to cum with him. 

As soon as Vox felt your walls impossibly getting tighter around him, he knew you were near the peak of your pleasure. You leaned back in his lap as he pounded into you — the messy noises of your bodies filling the room. With a final thrust, Vox came deep inside of you — filling you up to the brim with his cum. 

Shivers ran up your skin, headed clouded with pleasure and eyes glossed over. Vox sat up for a moment, still inside of you, and gently ran his thumb over the apple of your cheek. He gave you a sweet kiss to the other cheek, holding you so tenderly. 

“You’re all mine,” He whispered into your ear as you collapsed against his chest. Vox caressed your body with the affection of a true lover. You were drunk on ecstasy, barely able to lift your head to leave a chaste kiss on his screen. 

“I kind of overheard what you and Nancy talked about while we were driving here.”, you told him honestly while you made your way through the aisles of the store, always on the lookout for something useful for the fight ahead. 

Steve’s eyes slightly opened wider, his eyebrows raised while he nodded. He didn’t think anyone would have listened to what he and Nancy had talked about, yet here you were. But who could blame you? You were sitting right behind them, and everyone else was engrossed in a conversation of their own hence there was no way for you to not listen in on their talk. 

The young man next to you let out a quiet “oh”, making you stop in your tracks. You turned to him, and guilt was written all over your face however, Steve quickly shook his head. 

“It was just something we talked about to pass the time. Nothing too serious.”, he explained, putting his hand on your shoulder while he squeezed it gently. He sent you a gentle smile before he left you alone and walked over to a rag full of clothes. He finally wanted to get rid of his wet and dirty clothes, and although he knew they didn’t have the newest fashion at the store, he knew it would have to do for now. 

You let out a soft sigh, still feeling guilty about listening in on their conversation. You could have sworn you had seen the sincerity in Steve’s eyes when he talked about his future. He was so passionate about it, and yet he told you it was just something to talk about to pass the time. Did you believe him? Not really, but for now, you had to. 

At the end of an aisle, you found Nancy who was checking out a few of the guns which were displayed on the wall. You had no idea nor interest in weapons, you never had, but ever since you got involved with the upside down, you knew it was wise to have some sort of weapon close to you, especially when you decided to go there one more time and kill the monster behind it all. 

“Did you find anything?” you asked your friend once you stood beside her, your eyes looking at all the guns in front of you, your mouth slightly agape. You had never seen that many guns before, and to be honest, you were a bit intimidated by it. 

Nancy shook her head while she had one of the guns in her hand, turning it from side to side, even holding it up to see if it would be good to use however, she put it down again and asked the seller for a new one, a bigger one. 

You slightly turned around, your back leaning against the counter while you let your eyes wander around the store, quickly spotting Robin in one of the aisles while Steve made his way toward her. It seemed like he had already found some new clothes to wear. 

You couldn’t help but let out an almost inaudible sigh, but Nancy still heard it and turned her head in your direction, her eyebrows lightly raised as she waited for you to say something. 

You stayed quiet and watched Steve’s and Robin’s interaction, which caught Nancy’s attention as well. She turned to you with a knowing smile on her lips, nudging you lightly with her elbow. 

“Everything alright between the two of you?”, she asked you curiously, thanking the seller at the same time who handed her a bigger gun.

Your head turned to the side, watching Nancy interact with the weapon while all you could do was shrug your shoulders. 

Were you and Steve alright? Sure. You’ve been friends for a long time and helped each other out in every situation possible. You always talked about everything, and now all of a sudden, he wasn’t telling the truth. You knew you could ask Nancy about the conversation they had even though you knew it was wrong. Were you overreacting a bit? Maybe, possibly … obviously. But you had heard what they talked about.

“Can I ask you something, Nancy?”, you asked your best female friend. 

The young female nodded her head, her eyes focused on you for a bit until they went back to the gun yet you knew that she was listening. 

“I feel stupid to say this, but I heard what you and Steve talked about in the RV. You know, about his future and the six kids, which is obviously a lot, but I still heard it. And I wanted to talk to him about it because it’s obviously interesting to know, seeing as though he’s also one of my closest friends, but he said that it was nothing and it was only something to talk about to pass the time, but I don’t believe him. You don’t just talk about something like this to pass the time, and he also seemed so passionate about it, and I am rambling again.”, you said, ending your rambling session with a small pout on your lips. 

Nancy put the gun away again once she noticed what you were talking about, an amused smile gracing her lips while she listened to every single word you had to say, giggling lightly once she saw the pout on your lips and the desperation in your eyes.

“Oh, y/n.”, she started, shaking her head amused as she took a step towards you, placing a hand on your arm only to squeeze it gently. 

“You didn’t hear the end of our conversation, did you? And he probably didn’t tell you about it.”, she explained. She knew Steve just as well as you did.

Nancy looked over to Steve and Robin, who were having their own conversation before her blue eyes darted back to you, who still looked like a small lost puppy. 

“Yes, he really said that he wants to have six kids. Absolutely insane, I know.”, she started, making both of you laugh lightly, which caught some people’s attention, but they quickly went back to what they came to the arms store for. 

“Steve talked about what he wanted in the future, but he also talked about the person he wants to have by his side in the future.”

When these words left Nancy’s lips, your eyes went wide. You could feel your heart hammering in your chest, the pulse reaching your ears. You were nervous to find out who it was, however after you saw him and Nancy spend so much time together again, there was no doubt that it was her. He wanted to have her by his side. 

You tried to calm yourself down, nodding your head as you looked down at your shoes. You absentmindedly bit your lower lip, preparing yourself to get your heart crushed in just a few seconds. 

“It’s you, you idiot.”, Nancy suddenly said, a giggle leaving her lips as she playfully pushed you away from her. 

Your head shot up, your eyes wide once more as you looked at her in disbelief.

“You’re kidding. We’re friends, and you and he have a history and I’ve seen the way he looks at you, so no, it’s not me.”, you argued, shaking your head. 

Nancy immediately put her hands on your shoulders, stopping you from talking.

“Trust me, he said your name. You’re delusional if you think otherwise because I’ve also seen the way he looks at you, and it’s different. Trust me. Steve has liked you for a while now, and I know when this is all over, he will ask you out on a date. He’s been meaning to do this ever since the Starcourt fire, but that dimwit never found the courage to do so.”, she told you reassuringly.

Your head turned to the aisles where you knew Steve and Robin were, quickly finding out that Steve was already watching you. His eyebrows were raised, and worry graced his face as he looked at the two of you. You lightly shook your head, returning your attention to Nancy. 

“Can you please tell me what is wrong with you? You haven’t talked to me ever since we ran out of that store.”, Steve said worriedly, sitting down next to you. 

After you all found out that Jason was at the arms store, you quickly made your exit, sprinting to the RV and hastily driving off. 

Now here you were on a field, a bit outside of Hawkins, where everyone prepared themselves for the fight. You found a spot a bit farther away from everyone, wanting to be alone with yourself and your thoughts until Steve came over.

You looked up into his brown eyes, biting the inside of your cheek lightly before you shook your head. 

“It’s nothing, Steve. All good.”, you stated quietly however, Steve wasn’t having any of it hence he sat down right next to you. He took your hand in his, shocking you. 

“Nothing is good. Please talk to me, y/n. I feel like it was me who did something wrong because when you talked to Nancy and then looked over at me, you looked like you’ve just seen a ghost or something.”

Should you tell him the truth? Should you tell him that you knew he talked about you in the RV? On one hand, you knew that he deserved to know, on the other hand, you feared what could happen if you really told him about your conversation with Nancy. 

You let out a sigh, your hand still in his. Your eyes gazed around the field, watching your friends prepare themselves for what was about to come, and that was when it hit you. 

What if you wouldn’t make it out of the upside down? What if something happened to you or worse to Steve? You knew that you would feel guilty for the rest of your life if you didn't tell your best friend that you knew that he had feelings for you. 

“Nancy told me that it wasn’t just a conversation to pass the time.”, you admitted, your eyes swiftly looking up to see Steve’s reaction, however, his face stayed blank. 

“You really want those six kids.”, you said, giggling lightly. “You really want that future you talked about. And … Nancy also told me who you want to have by your side in that future.”

There it was. You said it. And by the look on his face, you knew, he knew now as well. 

Steve wanted to pull his hand away, but you held it tightly, even wrapping your other hand around his. 

“You don’t get to walk away now, Harrington because I know you want to. You usually do that in situations like this, but not this time.”

A gentle smile placed itself on your lips while you moved closer to Steve, who tensed up a bit, but relaxed again after you squeezed his hand softly.

“She said you’ve been trying to ask me out on a date. You’ve been trying for a couple of months, and don’t you dare look embarrassed. It’s not, Steve. It’s cute.”, you said encouragingly. 

“I don’t think you have noticed, but I really like you too, Harrington. Why do you think I want to spend so much time with you? Why do you think I come to Family Video at least once a day? To find a good movie? Hell no, your movies are shit.”, you said, making the young man in front of you chuckle lightly. 

“No, It’s because I want to spend time with you and maybe Robin, but mostly you.”, you said jokingly. 

Steve now had a soft smile on his lips, feeling less embarrassed about knowing that you know about his future plans. 

“I like you, Steve, a lot. And I see my future with you by my side, but maybe we could change six kids to three? Maybe four?”

Your best friend couldn’t help but laugh out loud, catching almost everyone’s attention around you, especially Nancy, who felt proud for knowing that she told you the truth. Steve would have never said anything to you, and she knew that sometimes you had a bit more courage inside of you. 

“Maybe we can talk about it on a date? I mean, after all of this is done?”

“I would love that.”, you said.

Bright smiles were on both of your lips while you intertwined your fingers. You noticed Steve leaning forward. Your breath lightly hitched once you felt his lips on your forehead, yet you enjoyed the warmth, feeling the blush creeping up on your cheeks. 

When he wanted to lean back again, you immediately wrapped your arms around him, hiding your face in the crook of his neck while you felt his hands on your back, caressing it softly.