You notice it every time you walk into Family Video, the way his eyes flick up like they’ve been pulled there by instinct, the half-second pause before he remembers himself and looks away. It’s subtle in the way only Steve Harrington subtle can be, which is to say: not subtle at all.
Robin notices too. Of course she does.
“You know,” she says one afternoon, lounging behind the counter with her feet dangerously close to the register, “if Harrington keeps staring at you like that, he’s gonna walk into a shelf one of these days.”
You don’t look up from the stack of returned tapes in your hands. “You’re imagining things.”
Robin snorts. “Please. I imagine monsters, not this. This is real. Painfully real.”
You ignore her, even though your heart kicks up a notch.
Because you’ve noticed it too.
You’ve known Steve longer than Robin has. Before the Scoops Ahoy uniform, before the bat with nails, before Hawkins revealed itself as some cursed epicenter of supernatural trauma.
Back then, Steve Harrington was just the popular guy. The kind of guy who smiled too easily and didn’t seem like he’d ever have to think about consequences.
Now, he thinks about everything.
He checks the locks twice before closing. He walks you home without being asked. He listens, really listens, when you talk, like your words are something worth holding onto.
And when he looks at you, there’s something careful there. Something soft.
It scares you.
Being Robin Buckley’s sister means people expect you to be like her.
Loud. Sharp. Unapologetic.
You aren’t.
Robin fills rooms without trying. You tend to stay at the edges, absorbing everything, saying less than you think. You feel things deeply and quietly, like it’s safer that way.
Steve doesn’t treat you like a shadow.
He treats you like a secret.
It’s a slow Tuesday when things shift.
The store is quiet, the kind of quiet that hums in your ears. Robin is in the back arguing with Keith about a late fee she definitely forgot to waive, and Steve is restocking tapes with all the grace of someone trying very hard not to overthink things.
You’re kneeling on the floor, reorganizing the action section, when his voice cuts in.
“You don’t have to do that.”
You glance up. He’s holding a stack of tapes against his chest, hair perfect in that unfair, effortless way.
“It’s my job,” you say.
“Yeah, but you’ve been at it forever,” he replies. “I could help.”
You raise an eyebrow. “Steve Harrington offering help unprompted?”
He winces. “Okay, wow. That’s harsh.”
A smile sneaks onto your face. “Top shelf’s yours.”
He grins like you’ve just handed him a prize.
As you work, the space between you shrinks. Your shoulders brush, not accidental, not entirely on purpose, and the contact sends a jolt up your arm. You pull back too quickly.
Steve notices.
“You okay?” he asks, quieter now.
“Yeah. Fine.”
He hesitates, then says softly, “You know you don’t always have to be fine, right?”
The words land heavier than they should.
You swallow. “I know.”
Steve nods like that means something important to him.
After that, the crush becomes impossible to ignore.
It’s in the way he saves you the last slice of pizza without announcing it. In the way he always asks if you got home safe. In the way he laughs at your jokes like they’re the highlight of his day.
And it’s in the way he doesn’t say anything.
Not until he does.
It’s late when it happens.
He insists on walking you home, even though you tell him you’re fine, even though Hawkins is quiet in that unsettling, post-almost-apocalypse way. He drapes his jacket over your shoulders because you say you’re not cold and he doesn’t believe you for a second.
“You ever think about leaving?” he asks as you walk beneath buzzing streetlights.
“Leaving?” you repeat.
“Hawkins. All of it.”
You think about brochures hidden under your bed. About places that don’t know your name or your history. Places without monsters.
“Sometimes,” you admit.
“Yeah,” Steve says. “Me too.”
You stop in front of your house. The moment stretches, fragile and heavy, like it might shatter if either of you breathes wrong.
Steve turns to you, and this time, he doesn’t look away.
“There’s something I’ve been wanting to tell you,” he says.
Your heart stutters.
“Steve—”
“I know this might be weird,” he rushes on, words tumbling over each other, “and I know you’re Robin’s sister and I don’t want to mess things up and I’m really bad at this, but—”
You step closer. Close enough to feel the warmth of him.
“Steve.”
He exhales, shaky. “I like you. I’ve liked you for a while. And if you don’t feel the same, that’s okay. I just… didn’t want to keep pretending I didn’t.”
For once, he holds your gaze.
You don’t look away.
“I like you too,” you say quietly.
His smile is slow, disbelieving. “Yeah?”
“Yeah.”
He laughs under his breath, relief written all over his face. “Wow. Okay. That’s— that’s really good.”
Neither of you moves. The space between you feels sacred now.
He reaches for your hand, tentative. “Can I…?”
You nod.
And when he kisses you, it’s gentle and careful, like he’s afraid of breaking something precious. Like the world nearly ended and somehow, this survived.
And for the first time in a long while, you don’t feel like standing in the background.
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summary: You haven't spoken to Steve Harrington in nearly a decade- not since he tried to confess to your sister Robin and was rejected, not since you gave him the lashing of a lifetime and subsequently fled Hawkins. Then, he turns up practically outside your front door and bulldozes over everything you've been trying to build for the past eight years.
warnings: inspired by little women but doesn’t draw that heavily from the actual source material imo, she fell first but he fell harder, mentions of animal/pet death in later chapters, imposter syndrome, jo!robin, laurie!steve, amy!reader, hurt/comfort, angst with a happy ending. modern day au with no upside down & orchard house is somehow in hawkins instead of massachusetts
summary: for the first time in your life, you’d spend your first night as a normal teenager. you weren’t cooped up at home, or stuck at work, or monster fighting. nope — steve had invited you and robin to join him at a party. it's supposed to be his in, only some other guy steals his chance. he’s noticed how guys have eyed you before, but now you’ve started taking interest. it’s best you know what you don’t.
word count: 3.7 k
requested! — based on aperture by harry styles
cw: between s3/s4, everyone is 18+ in the fic, language? jealous!steve, allusions to smut, robin attempting to play matchmaker
Homecoming week meant watching Robin march with the band in the town-wide parade, hiding under the bleachers during the game, and party after party. Well… partying if you were popular.
For most of their high school years, the Buckleys weren’t exactly invited to many hometown ragers and house parties. Yet, a little small-town tragedy and the known fact that the cousins had become fast friends with former All-Star Steve Harrington didn’t hurt their chances at an invite.
“Robin, I know that’s my top,” you continued to argue with her from your spot in the back seat, “You literally told me that you would be caught dead shopping at the Gap.”
“Yeah, because I just don’t understand how you afford it,” Robin huffed, smearing the eyeliner on her waterline as she checked her reflection in the mirror, “ You, me, and Steve all make the same shitty five bucks an hour.”
You leaned forward and snatched her mauve lipstick from the little makeup bag, “You aren’t factoring in tip money, plus the fact that I can find cute things on the sales rack too.”
“Hey! That’s mine—”
“Ladies, ladies, please,” Steve interjected, “I cannot see, much less think to drive with all the noise coming from you two.”
“That’s the first time I’ve ever heard you complain about a pretty girl making too much noise,” You snidely remarked.
Robin picked up on your snark and easily added fuel to the fire, “He’s just mad that there hasn’t been a pretty girl beneath him in months. Right, Stevie?”
“God, shut up,” Steve whined, running his finger through his already mussed hair.
You both erupted into giggles at Steve’s expense. It had been months since Steve had the success of going on more than two dates with a girl before she seemed to drop him. It was a harsh cycle to observe, but Steve had been insistent that he still had his signature ladies’ charm.
“Well, even if you and I don’t get any action tonight,” Robin looked from Steve, back to you, “Maybe my dear cousin will finally let loose. You know that Mark has been eyeing you up since last summer.”
Before you could shut her down, Steve incredulously eyed you in the rearview mirror, “Mark Lewinsky? Jesus, I thought you had standards.”
You gawked at Steve, flicking the back of his neck. He scoffed, his brow furrowed as he rubbed the tender spot. As you tossed the lipstick back to Robin, your eyes scanned over him, “Please, Steven. Like you’re a saint?”
Steve simply rolled his eyes, taking a right turn into the neighborhood. Even from three houses down, it was clear that a homecoming rager was in full action at this mansion of a home. Teens were split between smoke circles outside and shadowy silhouettes in the windows. Some of the junior varsity boys were setting up a keg stand while a group of cheerleaders pushed past with their varsity boyfriends.
“This party looks like a scene out of a John Hughes spoof,” Robin commented, brows knit together.
You leaned over the center console, glancing between your friends, “I understand that you two work at a video store, but not everything is a movie.”
Both of them scoffed and rolled their eyes before ducking out of either side of the vehicle. However, Steve swiftly reached back to open the car door for you. He continued to gab with Robin while you got to your feet.
“Are you sure we’re actually good to be here?” Robin asked first.
You glanced over to Steve, following up with your own question, “Yeah, you graduated and got an invite to this shindig before we even knew there was going to be a party.”
Steve shut the car door behind you, “Are you guys serious? Girls never need an invitation to parties, plus you two are my plus ones.”
“Do not say that,” Robin fake gagged, “Or else you’re gonna rope everyone into thinking that you’re flirting with cousins, and I don’t think your reputation could take that hit and…”
While Robin rambled on, you simply rolled your eyes and forged ahead, “It’s too late to chicken out now, Rob. Plus, Tammy is probably inside.”
Your cousin scoffed and folded her arms over her chest, “I told you that I’m over Tammy since she moved to Nashville. And there’s no way that Vickie is gonna be inside.”
Steve and Robin quickly caught up to your steps. Steve glided in front of you, leading the trio through the front lawn, “And what about you, missy? You never wear lipstick unless—”
“Unless Mark Lewinsky calls you a total babe in front of the entire varsity basketball team,” Robin cut in, quick to hound you again about the athlete that always seemed eager to capture your attention. No one can torment you as much as your family.
“So what?” You scoffed, stopping right behind Steve, who had become uncharacteristically quiet, “Just because he thinks I’m hot doesn’t mean he’ll make a move.”
Steve reached for the knob of the front door, but stopped as your words suddenly surprised him. Just because he thinks I’m hot doesn’t mean he’ll make a move… But why did he feel so gross about Mark, much less any of his other older teammates, flirting with you? He remembered when Dustin had told him to just pick between you and Robin. He struck out with Robin, probably for the best, since she was practically his sister. But you—
“You just gonna stand there and wait for someone to come to the door, Stevie?” Your voice pulled him from his spiraling thoughts.
He glanced back at you and Robin from over his shoulder. An easy smirk stretched across his lips, “Of course. Just making sure you ladies get plenty of air before we dive headfirst into the party zone.”
“The party zone? Please, Steve, spare us the shitty party vocab and let’s get drunk,” Robin weaved between the two of you, slipping through the front door before Steve could stop her.
His brow furrowed, and he met your gaze once more, a silent question at your cousin’s audacity. You simply shrugged and took a quick step to follow behind.
— — —
You stood between Steve and Robin, arms crossed over your chest. The three of you each had a beer in hand, standing off in a corner of the living room as you watched your fellow classmates bump, grind, and do plenty of things they’d regret come Monday morning.
“Oh my god,” Robin gawked and pointed at one of the couples, “Ally’s totally making out with Roger. Wasn’t she just with you last night, Steve?”
Steve’s eyes widened as he looked between you and Robin, surprised that she brought it up, “Um… no, not last night. God. I have some self-respect.”
He was quiet for a moment as he glanced down at his beer, “It was two weeks ago. But she wants to move to Wisconsin for college.”
You rolled your eyes and downed the remainder of your warm beer, “Don’t people generally, like, dance or do something other than gossip in the corner at these?”
“You want to dance?” Steve was quick to ask.
Robin cut in, “There is no way. This is hardly dancing. Everyone’s just horny and grinding on each other. I can hardly remain up on two feet as is.”
You stepped away from your trio with a sigh, “You two figure it out, I’m getting a new drink.”
Before either of them could press you to join, you had slipped in between a passing group, weaving your way through the living room. The lights were off, except for the bathroom hallway light, where three people were lined up. One looked absolutely prepared to barf. A large radio system had been set up, pumping music throughout the house. Atop it sat globe lights that cast different colors throughout the room as they spun.
You could feel the bass of the music beating through your chest. It was some recent techno radio hit that Steve had likely played on his car radio before. The words were muffled by the loud conversations and laughter of friends. When you finally arrived in the kitchen, someone had finally thought to put the beer in the cooler. At least you didn’t have to choke down another warm beverage.
Cracking open the lid, you quickly chugged down a third of the can. You closed your eyes and shook your head at the bitter taste.
“You know that there’s stuff other than beer to drink, right?” The masculine voice explained from behind you. When you turned, you saw Mark. He’d recently chopped his long hair, which had been a surprisingly good idea. He looked better now that his hair wasn’t always hiding his face.
“Oh?” You hummed and offered him a polite smile, “And do you plan on being my bartender?”
Mark smiled in reply, “I could if you liked.”
He moved to the liquor cabinet, pulling out a couple of bottles
“Didn’t expect to see you here, Buckley,” He glanced at you as he topped the beverage off with some Sprite that someone left out on the counter.
“Why’s that?’ You asked as he offered you to drink. You eyed it once before accepting it.
Mark watched as you took a sip of the alcoholic concoction, his smile lingering, “You’re not exactly like the other girls here. And I’m pretty sure that I’ve never seen you at one of these.”
Your brow raised at his observation. Part of you hadn’t expected him to look for you at a party, and the other part of you cringed at his sentiment. You knew what he meant, because it reminded you of when you’d first met Steve. He’d been much of the same, and you recalled him painting Robin to be so vastly different from other girls. Only you both quickly pulled his head out of his ass and helped him realize the world was more than high school cliches. Maybe that’s why you liked Steve. No, you liked being friends with Steve, You thought to yourself, lightly shaking your head and refocusing your attentions on Mark.
“I figured I’d come to at least one homecoming rager before graduating,” You shrugged and gestured back to the living room, “Do you want to dance?”
— — —
“She’s been gone for twenty minutes, Rob,” Steve huffed, crushing his third beer can against his thigh. He went to toss it on the floor, but Robin stopped him.
“She probably ran into a classmate or is just talking to someone,” Robin attempted to explain with a shake of her head, “Probably trying to be social, which I thought we were going to do too, but you seem keen to wait here like a dog.”
Steve’s brow furrowed at Robin’s comment, “I’m not a dog.”
“Right, you just look at her with those big, brown puppy dog eyes because you’re friends,” Robin snidely remarked as she sipped from her drink.
“We are friends, just like we’re friends,” He gestured between them, clearly exasperated. His eyes searched the crowded living room for any sign of your return once more. He sideeyed the girl next to him, “Besides, I was trying to make a move by asking her to dance before you butt in.”
Robin laughed at his excuse, “And what? Do the same awkward routine of the almost, not quite thing? Please, you guys aren’t out on a first date. You’re friends, as you so claim.”
She made quotations marks in the air, returning the look of confusion that he seemed to permanently adopt.
Sure, Robin had a point. He had become increasingly aware of the shift in himself. His dating life had significantly dwindled in the past few months. When you or Robin would press him about it, he would claim that he was ‘focused on himself and the future,’ to which either of you would make a sarcastic remark. But gone were the days of watching Robin add another tally to her scorecard, because no matter what he claimed, Steve knew that he couldn’t continue going out with other girls when he pictured you in their place. It wasn’t fair to himself or his dates, so it had become easier to just stop altogether.
Robin flicked the fuzz off the shoulder of his polo, “I don’t think friends in the appropriate term, but you both seem set in your denial.”
Steve scoffed, tearing his eyes off the faces in the crowd. His brow creased, a scoff escaping him, “Both?”
“Both,” Robin repeated, nodding her head like it was obvious, “At first I thought you two were waiting for my blessing, but then I realized that you’re both just hopelessly dancing around this unspoken thing—”
He held up a hand, “There isn’t an unspoken thing.”
“Okay,” Robin shook her head in disbelief. She was fully prepared to disprove his statement, only to find the proof right in front of them. It was a bitch not to smirk at the scene that was playing out before her. She cocked her head in your direction on the dancefloor, “So you don’t mind that she’s currently dancing with Mark Lewinsky, who looks ready to drag her into one of the upstairs bedrooms to suck face.”
Steve’s jaw went slack at the shock of computing the words in his head. When he finally came back, he whipped his head around to find where Robin’s eyes had fixated. Sure enough, you were out on the dance floor with one of Lewinsky’s arms draped around your waist.
“Why the fuck does it have to be Lewinsky?” Steve scoffed and ran his free hand over his face. His throat tightened at the scene, and suddenly, the overwhelming sense of defeat trapped his gaze.
He wanted nothing more than to trade places right now. It was supposed to be his hands guiding your waist, your hips bumping back against his while you giggled and blamed it on the alcohol. Why couldn’t you see that Mark couldn’t give you what Steve could?
“The universe works in mysterious ways,” Robin hummed as she averted her gaze, “And I seriously wish that you two would just get your shit together.”
Steve went silent but refused to look elsewhere. He stood rigidly, back flat against the wall as he forced his eyes to remain focused, only shifting to follow where Mark touched you. If he couldn’t be the one to hold you, he’d at least block Mark from getting too far.
— — —
It was a good twenty minutes before the energy lulled again, and couples pulled off the dancefloor. Robin stepped away to chat with someone she knew from the band, saying she needed to ‘avoid the yearning aura’ he was exuding. Even Mark had finally managed to give you some space after practically grinding himself against you for the past ten minutes. Steve grit his teeth as Mark accepted your empty cup, likely offering you a fresh beverage.
Once the senior boy was gone, Steve finally had the opportunity to pull you out of whatever trance Mark had you in. There was no way you were hanging out with that bench warmer over him. Him and Robin. Of course. Right…
Your eyes followed Mark’s retreating form as he went back to the kitchen. It was painfully obvious that he wanted to get his dick sucked, if not score a one-way ticket into a night with you. But as fun as hanging out with Mark could be, it was hardly engaging, nor were there any real feelings there.
The warm hand that wrapped around your forearm surprised you. You whipped your head around to find Steve, brows furrowed like he was cross with you. His gaze was filled with a fire and fury you’d never see directed at yourself.
Your defenses were quickly back up, eyes narrowing with a lingering threat, “Can I fucking help you?”
The disgust in your voice surprised him, but Steve held his ground, “Why are you hanging out with Lewinsky? I invited you to this party.”
No matter how many months had passed since your friendship with Steve began, you could never quite believe his levels of audacity. You jerked back, tugging yourself free from Steve’s hold, “So? I’m only allowed to hang out with you?”
“Well, I just didn’t think you’d ditch me so early in the night to run off and make bad decisions,” Steve easily accused, hands firmly planted on his hips.
You mimicked his stance, “Says the King of bad decisions. You’re just mad that I might actually score and break my dry spell when you can’t.”
Steve felt the heat radiating off his face, his chest burning with a strange mixture of humiliation and restraint, “What? No— I just don’t get— Lewinsky? Out of anyone else?”
“Don’t sound so jealous,” You taunted, pressing your luck.
“Jealous?” Steve seethed as his hand caught your wrist once more, “I just figured you had more self-respect than letting some shitty jock bag you at a party.”
“You’re just mad that you’re not the shitty jock getting some tonight.” You took a half step forward, sizing him up.
Steve froze when he smelled the alcohol on your breath, “You’re already tipsy, aren’t you?”
You rolled your eyes, but the truth was difficult to deny when you nearly tripped over your own feet while standing still.
“I’m being a normal teenager,” You excused, ignoring the tingling sensation you felt when Steve’s arm settled around your middle, “I just want one night to be a little reckless.”
His serious expression cracked as he considered his words. Sometimes he forgot about the heavy secrets and traumas now shared between the two of you and Robin. He didn’t have time to address the nagging feeling of guilt in the back of his mind when you started tugging him back.
“What are you doing?” Steve flustered, glancing around the room to see if he might be able to spot Robin.
“I told you, I want to dance,” You hummed, your tipsy confidence pushing you out of your comfort zone, “And if you’re gonna bitch about me dancing with Lewinsky, then I suppose I’m just gonna have to dance with you.”
The bass buzzed from the low synth line, followed by a consistent thump that could be felt in your ears and chest. Colored lights continued to swirl over the dark room, only giving you fragmented pieces of Steve’s expression. He seemed confused yet obliged your request. His warm palm pressed against the sliver of bare skin between the hem of your shirt and the waistband of your jeans.
His fingers gently brushed over the curve, and you had to force yourself not to shiver. Steve appeared content to follow your lead, not wanting to risk it and watch you pull away again. As much as he loved the chase, he was tired of running in circles, and something in the way you held his gaze made him think you were tired of it too.
Steve made the first move, stepping closer so his leg could slide between yours. You were chest-to-chest, eyes fixated on each other as if daring the other to break the contact.
“You look good tonight,” He hummed, trying to charm his way to your heart like he used to do back in high school. But you knew Steve Harrington, and preferred him to whatever remnants of King Steve this was.
“As opposed to every other night?” You taunted with a smile, “Besides, Lewinsky beat you to that one.”
He rolled his eyes at your antics, but you easily spotted the amusement that danced in his eyes, “Right, don’t get smart with me, Buckley. I was trying to compliment you.”
“Trying being the keyword.” Your hand traveled up to rest on his shoulder as you both swayed in tandem.
“I try very hard for you,” Steve nodded, ducking his head closer, “You just never seem to notice.”
The truth was, you had noticed, it was just something you never wanted to accept. Because once you accepted it, you knew that your friendship with Steve would change. The hardest thing to swallow about liking Steve was that you didn’t want to lose a friend. You say how hard he tried to impress the last few girls who agreed to go out with him, and you didn’t recognize the guy he tried to present himself as. You didn’t need him to pretend to be someone else when you liked the silly, blabbermouth Steve that you met through your equally bizarre cousin.
“You don’t have to try. I actually would perfer if you didn’t,” You started, eyes flickering over his face as his expression dropped slightly. You clear your throat to continue, “Because I already like what’s there.”
“I… think I get what you’re trying to say? But if I’m honest, I’m only understanding half of it,” He chuckled and shook his head.
“Right, right,” You easily laughed as your other hand came to drape over his shoulders, “I just mean that I really like Steve Harrington. Not Steve The Hair Harrington or King Steve or whatever mask you try to wear… I like you.”
You poked at his chest, and a genuine laugh escaped him at the gesture. He shook his head, absorbing the words before he simply nodded.
“And… you definitely prefer me over Lewinsky, right?” Steve asked, a knowing smirk already gracing his lips.
A soft giggle sounds just under your breath, and Steve thinks it might just be his favorite sound in the world.
Your fingertips brush against the back of his neck, and Steve shivers, the sudden realization of your closeness sinking in. Before he can realize what’s happening, you’re gently tugging him down to meet your lips. Steve’s hands quickly grasp your hips to steady himself, but once he’s grounded, his lips move languidly over your own. He pours everything that he feels into the kiss, knowing that he would never be able to find the perfect words to tell you exactly how he feels in the moment or any moment shared with you.
His tongue glides over your bottom lip, silently asking for entrance. When it's granted, Steve wraps one arm around your waist while the other dances up your spine. He tugs you closer, the two of you continuing to rock against each other as the bass keeps the beat.
The kiss is something surprisingly messy and raw, yet exactly what it needs to be. And as Steve tugs you towards a dark corner, giggling like a boy again, you come to your own realization. It finally appears — it’s only love.
Robin Buckley’s untouchable older sister, you’re a year older and she’s always moaning about you being the perfect daughter. How much your mother tells her to be more like you.
“Come on, Harrington. She was in your year, don’t tell me you’ve got some crush on her. Can’t believe you right now, do you have one. Omg…”
Steve does not have a crush, you’ve barely spoken to him and you were normally in the art classroom during breaks. Sure you were popular, but you were trying to finish your final art pieces. You know make them prefect.
You know Robin likes girls, she doesn’t even have to tell you. There’s a silent acceptance as you gift her a second hand copy of the Carmilla book.
The infamous sweet sixteen party you threw is still a hot topic in Hawkins. And you managed to come out on top, convinced your parents that some random guy turned up with their friends and crashed it. No, nothing to do with you. Robin brings it up every time your mother’s telling her off.
You’re friends with benefits with Eddie Munson, only he knows you aren’t the perfect student or daughter. Smoke sessions in the woods or his trailer. You always need a little something to help you relax from all the stress your mother puts on you
“she’s kinda perfect ya’ know. There’s gotta be something there.” You overhear Robin creating conspiracy theories on the phone to Steve, all whilst you’re sneaking Eddie into your bedroom.
you need glasses, but don’t wear them as they ruin the look (you carry them in your bag though for when you really need them - which is all the time). Eddie loves your glasses, he asks you to wear them whenever you step into his trailer - he thinks it the best way for you to drop the perfect mask and be yourself. “Ah-ah, you want free admission got to put those baby’s on Buckley,” “there she is.”
Blondie’s on repeat, you can be found lying on the rug in your bedroom listening to your Walkman and lying to your mother when you say you’re listening to ABBA
Eddie making you mixtapes, something about educating you on the classics. You swap out your cassettes, using the excuse of returning a tape as a reason to smoke and talk about music
Your cat rarely leaves your room and hisses at Robin (who hisses back). Robin definitely sneaks into your bedroom and borrows stuff. Cat does come outside to greet you after work or to say goodbye though.
Wearing a wig, heavy makeup and sunglasses to watch Eddie play with his band. Fake I.D. May even be wearing one of his band tees and a skull ring on your thumb. At the front of the crowd obviously so you can get a good look at Eddie
Hiding Eddie’s leather jacket at the back of your wardrobe (you’re yet to give it back and you trace the cluttered badges on the lapels when ever you get a glimpse of it hanging on the rail).
Leaving lipstick kisses on Eddie’s mirror when you sneak out before he wakes up. He’s also made you kiss a scrap of fabric so he can stitch your kisses onto his jacket.
And when Robin finally catches the two of you together…
“what are you doing here?” Robin whispers harshly as she yanks you out of sight. You try to focus on the basketball team guys voices instead of your sister, but she won’t shut up.
“You and Eddie. You and Eddie Munson. What even? You’re friends with…”
“if you say you and Eddie Munson one more time I’m going to..,” you start - “wait is that his jacket?” Robin speaks over you, eyes darting to the worn leather draped over your shoulders. The Hellfire badge a dead giveaway.
“Wait she’s the girl?” Robin turns to face Eddie, nudging him with her elbow and making him fall back. “He talks about you a bunch…”
Robin’s kinda noticed how you’ve been letting yourself go. Darker coloured Matt nails - chipped. A short cut that favoured your curls or is it a perm? You’re still rocking the coloured and pattern tights, favouring heeled boots instead of pumps or sandals.
four dollars or a date - dustin henderson x f!buckley reader
masterlist, navigation, request rules
requested: Dustin Henderson x Buckley reader where they meet at Scoops Ahoy and she works at the (Barnes and nobles type) book store a couple stores down and Dustin goes almost every day after he visits Steve to go see her and look at comics and board games, eventually she gets fed up and tells him “either buy something or ask me on a date”
warnings: didn't proof read, steve and robin are still arguing and dislike each other in this, can't think of anything else?
word count: 2.1k
The Star Court Mall gave you many things: a job and free ice cream from your sister's job, but you weren't expecting a crush on Dustin Henderson to be one of those things.
Dustin was always too cool for you. He had his friends, his hobbies, and his studies, and you had your comic books, your own friends, and a collection of board games to study after school before the weekend came to sell them to customers.
"The sooner you can drive, I swear to god-" you huffed, getting off the bus.
Robin hurried behind you, her work uniform still a little creased "I'm sorry, alright! You know how hard it is for me to focus at the moment, if I were driving, one minute I'd be turning onto the next street, and then the next I'll be crashing into a tree or halfway across a different state. For now, this will have to do."
You knew your sister couldn't help it, but she got away with being late to work; you didn't.
"Well, until then, can you at least leave just a little earlier? I don't have someone like Steve to watch my back when I'm not starting my shift on time," you stormed off, already dreading what your manager would say.
"I'm sorry!" Robin raised her voice from behind you.
Luckily, you were able to make some big sales on new book and board game releases for your boss to let you off, as long as it didn't happen again, and as much as you loved your sister, you knew that it meant you'd have to commute to and from work on the bus alone.
"You did great today," your boss reminded you, handing you your payslip, "I'll see you on Tuesday, don't be late."
Tucking the payslip into your pocket, you waved goodbye and left the empty store, the last remaining customers slowly walking out with their new books. Turning left, you approached Scoops Ahoy, stopping dead in your tracks as Steve mopped the floor.
Dustin was sitting in one of the booths, talking about something Latin or Russian, you didn't listen too carefully out of guilt for ditching Robin on your commutes. He jumped when he realised you were standing next to him, causing Steve to drop the mop against the floor, the wooden handle slamming down loudly.
"Ah!" Steve jumped.
"Where's Rob?" you sighed.
Dustin continued to stare at you, unable to take his eyes off you as he swallowed up the details of your face, work lanyard and uniform, before glossing over your name badge. You shared the occasional class, but you never had a conversation, only simple nods of acknowledgement.
"She's in there," he pointed to the door behind the counter, "Hey! Watch where you walk, I'm mopping!"
You ignored Steve, purposely walking only on the wet parts of the floor, hoping he'd have to go over it. Robin would complain about him so much that it often felt like you were the one working with him.
"Whose that?" Dustin spoke up, a little too quickly.
"Buckley's sister," he picked up the mop, "wait, you guys are in the same class, don't you know her?"
"I know of her, if I'm being precise, we've never actually spoken, but I didn't know she's Robin's sister!"
"Don't get your hopes up, Henderson." Steve pointed at Dustin, his eyebrows raised, "She's a weirdo and just as annoying as her sister."
Robin was halfway through cashing up when you slumped down in the chair, slinging your bag on the table. You watched as Robin recounted the cash in the palm of her hand, muttering to herself and counting it again, unsure if she had done it right.
"I'll be done in a minute, Steve-" she quickly glanced over her shoulder before dropping the loose change on the floor.
"What are you doing here!" She freaked, quickly leaning over in her chair, frantically picking the change up, "Steve will complain to the manager-"
When you and Robin were on closes you either waited for each other outside the entrance of the mall or by Steve's car, but as the end of Summer got closer and the air became cooler, you started showing up at Scoops, even if it pissed off Steve.
"Steve's mopping up still," you cut her off, "Rob, I love you but we can't commute together anymore. My boss said the next time I'm late, I'm out the door."
Robin frowned, "I'm so sorry, you know how I struggle with time management," she couldn't stop her fingernails from nervously picking at her skin.
"And you know how much I need to save up, I can't risk losing this job, you know how mom and dad will react."
Robin finished cashing up and dragged her feet over to you. You stood up and wrapped your arms around her as she rested her chin on the top of your head.
Robin was different, she always had been, and whilst others saw it as a weakness or at their advantage to mock her, you saw it as one of her qualities that made her the sister you loved and cared for. Although you were younger, you felt protective of her and wanted her to never feel like she was the odd one out, but rather the sparkle in a dull room.
"I don't know why I struggle with it so much. I don't mean to be late; it just happens."
"I'm done mopping, a little later thanks to junior." Steve grumbled, tossing his cap across the room, "Are we good to go?"
You pulled away from your sister's hug, squinting at Steve, "Where's your little pal?"
Steve occasionally dropped you and Robin off at home, the two of them argued in the front whilst you sat in the back, ridiculing Steve or ignoring them both, staring out of the window.
"I'm not giving that shithead a ride, he's got a bike."
"Charming," you muttered, "real nice way to talk about your only friend, Steve."
Steve shoved you and pushed in front of Robin towards the exit of Scoops, your sister followed behind, kicking Steve in the ass, the argument already starting before the three of you got into his car.
Dustin spent the whole ride home thinking about you, replaying the sound of your voice saying "Where's Rob?" over and over again, his feet pedalling in sync with his memory of his brief encounter with you.
How have I not spoken to her before? Why haven't we sat next to one another or worked on a project together? She's been there this whole time, and I've been stupid enough to never truly notice her, and all of her enchanting details.
Dustin went back to thinking about the shape of your eyes and how they sparkled in the harsh lighting of the ice cream parlour, he remembered the length of your nose and lips which made his cheeks burn and flush in the rays of the setting sun, and last of all, he picked apart your work lanyard, scattered in collectable pins and badges.
MADE IN 1971 caught his attention first, then Madonna's face, but amongst them all, his favourite was the pink COMFORMITY is a SCAM badge. If all he could do was base your interests and opinions on the accessories pinned to your lanyard, he knew he had caught lightning in a bottle. Trouble was, he didn't have the first clue what to do with it.
On Tuesday, you turned a new leaf and delighted your boss when you arrived early. Although she didn't get her hopes up, you continued to impress her with your newly established work ethic and desire to take on new responsibilities while on shift. Tuesday was also a new start for Dustin too, rather than going home after visiting Steve at Scoops, doing his homework, he came into your work every day without fail.
Dustin always started off browsing in the new releases at the front of the store, he then briefly flicked through the Horror section before getting sucked into the Comic books and board games towards the back of the store, where you spent most of your shift re-stocking and re-organising when you weren't serving customers.
You noticed Dustin, you always did, and you had mastered the timing of his entire routine better than anything else in your life. Dustin showed up at the same time, never spending a minute longer before moving closer to you. You couldn't help but feel flattered and at times your cheeks flushed when you noticed him staring at you through the corner of your eye, pretending to be busy reading the new customer refund and exchange policies alongside the cash handling manual.
You were hoping (and expecting) Dustin to come over and say something, anything to you, but he didn't, and after a week and a half of him just monitoring you in complete silence, you had become terribly impatient.
"He just stares at me through the pages of the Fantastic 4 comic!" You whined at your sister who was on her break, she handed you her house keys over the counter.
"He's a nice kid!" Robin defended him, "Maybe you make him, I don't know, a little shy? He probably doesn't know how to talk to a girl outside of quoting something out of fantasy lore."
"Shy?" you scoffed, "Why would I make him shy?"
Robin winced and held your hands over the counter, squeezing them, "Please don't hate me, my sweet and dear baby sister, but you have major resting bitch face. Just like I can't help my poor time management, you can't help that look on your face."
You caught yourself scowling and rolled your eyes, "Fine! Okay, so it's the look on my face. What exactly can I do?"
Robin let go of your hands and shrugged, "I don't know, maybe flash him a smile when you notice an interesting board game he picks up. Use your knowledge of these games and comics to your advantage, treat him like a customer until he makes a move."
Your eyes widened, "Makes a move? Robin! What are you talking about?"
Robin had already walked away from the counter, hurrying towards the exit of the store, "Sorry, sis! Can't talk, gotta run!"
Taking Robin's advice, you decided to run over to the comic section, moving the X-Men release from its right spot to the shelf above.
That'll do it. He'll be forced to ask where it is if he doesn't spot it first.
Glancing at your watch, you knew Dustin would be walking towards your store. You straightened the badges on your lanyard and quickly ran back to the counter, casually flicking through a damaged magazine a customer returned in exchange for a polka dot print journal.
Like clockwork, Dustin showed up. New releases first, then Horror, before finally exploring the comics and board games. He stared at the shelf with a puzzled look, muttering to himself.
"They don't have it?"
"It's on the top shelf," you sighed, leaning your chin on your hand, not looking up.
"Thanks." He replied, now focusing on the comic book, pulling one off the shelf.
For the next hour, he flicked through them all, comic after comic, without a single word slipping from his lips.
Are you kidding me?
You stared at him, fully understanding what Robin meant with the bitch face comment. Your eyes burned into the back of Dustin's cap as you cleared your throat, "Henderson, can you do me a favour?"
He quickly turned around, closing the comic, "Sure, what is it-"
"You're in here all the time, constantly browsing in between peeking at me through the pages in those comics. Either buy something, or ask me on a date, because you're destroying our customer conversion targets by leaving empty-handed."
"I, wait, what?" he stammered, his eyes widening and cheeks burning.
"You heard me," you raised an eyebrow, smirking slightly "either buy that four dollar comic, or ask me out."
Whilst you were proud of yourself for technically making the first move, you knew you would never be able to get over the embarrassment of Dustin picking a comic book over you.
Dustin swallowed hard and adjusted his backpack straps with trembling hands before he reached into his pocket, retrieving the money he needed for the comic.
Your heart pained at his silent choice, and you threw the towel in, your eyes going back to the magazine.
Dustin took a deep breath and walked over towards you at the counter, puffing out his chest and lifting up his chin.
"Friday," he spoke up, handing you the comic book to scan, "that's your next night off, we can go out then."
Of course he knew, and of course he went for both options, not just one.
You looked up at Dustin and smiled, the flush of your cheeks mirroring his.
"It's a date," you smiled, handing him his comic, "That'll be four dollars, Henderson."
"Oh, right!" He blinked, handing you the money, a proud smile spreading across his face, "Y-you know what, keep the change!" he beamed, running out of the store and towards Scoops.
You shook your head and laughed, knowing that Steve and Robin would have lots to talk about on their commute home.
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Summary: Tim finds out about the illegal fights and the complicity of your brother and Eddie.
Angst to fluff
Warnings: violence, injuries, illegal activities, not proofread yet
A/N: A little crossover, but it's absolutely safe to read it if you didn't watch 911. Had a little time to spear due to my excruciating back pain that forced me to stay in bed for 2 days (I didn't stay in bed, was just an excuse to not study, yesterday I deep cleaned my whole house + cooked)
Requested: no
Words: 3.5k
You sit at the worn wooden table in the firehouse, the sounds of laughter and friendly banter filling the air around you. Tim's presence beside you is both comforting and electrifying, his rugged charm and unwavering support a constant in your chaotic world.
You steal a glance at him, admiring the way his eyes crinkle at the corners when he laughs, the way his hand brushes against yours in a subtle yet intimate gesture. You can't help but feel a surge of affection for the man who's become such an integral part of your life.
Despite the lively atmosphere, your mind drifts to the weight of the recent calls you've faced, the images of destruction and loss still fresh in your memory.
You've been together for months now, and though he knows you well, there are parts of yourself you've kept hidden, afraid to expose the darkness that sometimes consumes you.
As the team shares stories and jokes over lunch, Tim's eyes linger on you, his gaze filled with a mixture of adoration and concern.
"You seem distant today," he remarks softly, his hand finding yours under the table. "Everything okay?"
You force a smile, not wanting to burden him with the weight of your troubles.
"Just tired," you reply, squeezing his hand in reassurance. "It's been a rough week."
Tim nods understandingly, his thumb tracing soothing circles on the back of your hand.
"Well, if you need anything, you know I'm here for you, right?"
You nod gratefully, feeling a rush of warmth at his words. Despite your best efforts to keep him at arm's length, Tim has a way of breaking down your defenses and seeing straight through to the heart of you. It both terrifies and exhilarates you, this vulnerability you share with him.
Tim leans in closer to you, his lips brushing against your ear.
"Hey, I was thinking," he murmurs, his breath sending shivers down your spine. "Why don't you sleep over tonight? Just the two of us."
Panic grips you, and you cast a desperate glance at Eddie, your close friend and confidant, silently pleading for help. Eddie meets your gaze with a knowing look, nodding subtly as if to say, 'Go ahead, I've got your back.'
Summoning a smile, you turn back to Tim. "I'd love to, but I promised Eddie I'd help him with Christopher tonight," you lie, the words tasting bitter on your tongue.
Eddie, who was sitting across from you, shook his head subtly before joining your lie.
"And I really appreciate it, Y/N. Thank you."
Tim's disappointment is palpable, and you feel a pang of guilt knowing you're the cause. Lately, it feels like you haven't had much time for each other, your duties pulling you in different directions. But you can't bring yourself to tell him the truth, to let him see the vulnerability lurking beneath your facade.
He gives your hand a gentle squeeze under the table, his eyes filled with understanding.
"It's okay," he says softly, "We'll figure this out."
As the lunch break nears its end, Tim's gaze meets yours with an intensity that sends a shiver down your spine. His hand finds its way to your cheek, his touch gentle yet firm, anchoring you in the present moment. There's a raw vulnerability in his eyes, a silent plea for understanding and acceptance.
"Be safe, okay?" he whispers, his voice a soft caress against your skin.
And then, in a moment of unspoken longing, he leans in, his lips brushing against yours with a tenderness that steals your breath away. Time seems to stand still as the world falls away, leaving only the two of you suspended in a bubble of warmth and intimacy.
The kiss is sweet and gentle, yet filled with a depth of emotion that words could never convey. It's a silent exchange of love and reassurance, a promise to weather whatever storms may come your way. In that fleeting moment, you feel a sense of belonging wash over you, as if all the pieces of your fractured soul have finally found their home.
As Tim pulls away, his eyes meet yours with a mixture of tenderness and longing. It's a bittersweet moment, filled with the promise of what could be and the uncertainty of what lies ahead. But in that moment, all that matters is the warmth of his touch and the softness of his lips.
His forehead rests against yours, and you can see the love and concern in his eyes.
"You be safe too," you whisper.
As Tim leaves for patrol again, you watch him go with a heavy heart. The minute he’s out of sight, Eddie and Buck approach you with serious expressions. Eddie's arm is a solid, reassuring presence at your back as they guide you to the lockers, closing the glass door behind them. Their grave looks make your stomach churn.
Eddie is the first to speak, his voice tinged with frustration.
"I don't like this, Y/N. Lying for you, especially to Tim. He deserves to know what's going on."
Buck crosses his arms, his brows furrowed with concern.
"Seriously, you need to stop this. All of it. Think about what will happen when he finds out. I'm not sure which one he'll kill first."
You shake your head, trying to brush off their worries.
"If he finds out. And he will not, trust me."
Eddie steps closer, his eyes searching yours with a mix of anger and concern.
"How long do you think it'll take before he sees the bruises, huh? Dammit, Y/N, I see them."
You swallow hard, feeling a lump form in your throat.
"You see them because you know where to look."
Buck's voice softens, though his frustration is still evident.
"Tim's a cop, sis. A very good one if you didn't notice. He will find out and when he does—"
Before he can finish, the fire alarm blares through the station, cutting off the conversation. The familiar rush of adrenaline surges through you as the call to action drowns out everything else. You all move quickly, your argument momentarily forgotten as you slip into firefighter mode.
Eddie gives you a lingering look, his eyes filled with unspoken words, before he turns to head to the engine. Buck places a reassuring hand on your shoulder, squeezing lightly.
"We'll talk about this later," he says, his tone softer but still firm.
The end of the shift arrives like a welcome reprieve, but for you, it's just the beginning of another battle. Driving to the location of the illegal fights, your mind races with a mixture of determination and apprehension. The sight of Eddie's and Buck's cars parked nearby only fuels the fire burning within you as you approach them, your steps heavy with pent-up frustration.
"What are you doing here?" you demand, your voice tight with simmering anger as you confront them.
"Making sure you're okay," Eddie meets your gaze and furrows his brows as he speaks. "I don't want to see Bradford angry. He scares the shit out of me when he's happy..."
Your jaw clenches at the mention of Tim, your thoughts momentarily drifting to the repercussions of him discovering your secret. Pushing those thoughts aside, you shake your head stubbornly.
"I'll be fine, don't worry."
Grabbing a beer from a nearby cooler, you plop down on the trunk of a car, Eddie and Buck flanking you on either side. You crack open the beer and take a long sip, the cool liquid doing little to quell the fire burning inside you.
Buck leans in close, his voice a hushed whisper. "You need to quit these fights, Y/N. It's not worth it."
Eddie nods in agreement, "We're worried about you."
You take a long swig of your beer, the liquid burning a path down your throat.
"I can take care of myself," you mutter.
But Buck's frustration is palpable as he reaches out to grasp your hand.
"We know you can, but this isn't the way to prove it. You're risking your life for what?"
You pull away from his touch, your gaze hardening.
"It's none of your business," you retort, your tone sharp with irritation. "I don't need you to babysit me."
As your name echoes on their lips, the crowd erupts into cheers, their voices blending into a deafening roar as you step into the center of the makeshift ring. Surrounded by eager spectators, you feel the weight of their expectations bearing down on you, fueling the fire that burns within.
Your brother and Eddie watch you from the sidelines, their expressions etched with concern as you face off against your opponent, a behemoth of a man twice your size and weight.
Within the perimeter, surrounded by the thunderous cheers of the crowd, you allow your thoughts to drift away, consumed by the adrenaline coursing through your veins. With each stretch of your limbs, the tension in your muscles tightens, fueling your determination to win.
The fight begins, and you move with a fluidity and grace that belies your size. You dodge and weave, your movements swift and precise as you deliver blows with calculated precision. But the man before you is relentless, his attacks coming fast and furious, each strike leaving a mark.
Blood trickles down your face, the metallic taste lingering on your tongue as you fight back with renewed strength. Your fists fly, each punch landing with a satisfying thud as you refuse to back down. The intensity of the battle is palpable, the air crackling with electricity as you and your opponent trade blows.
In the midst of the chaos, a sense of euphoria washes over you, a rush of exhilaration that eclipses the pain. For a fleeting moment, you feel alive, untethered from the burdens that weigh you down. In that moment, there is only the fight, and the sheer joy of testing your limits.
Your brother's concern etches lines of worry across his forehead as he watches the fight unfold, his eyes darting between you and the towering opponent.
"We should stop her," he insists.
But Eddie shakes his head "It's too late now," he replies, "They have to finish the fight."
Buck hesitates, his hand hovering over his phone as he weighs the consequences of calling your boyfriend. "I'll call Tim," he decides finally.
"Wait, Buck. Think about this." Eddie reaches out, his hand closing around Buck's wrist. "She'll hate us."
Buck hesitates for a moment, weighing his options, before relenting. "Tim's the only one who can talk her out of this," he says, determination in his voice as he dials the number. "She'll thank me later."
Tim arrives shortly after Buck's call, his expression a mask of concern and frustration as he rushes to your side. He had been about to clock out and change when Buck's urgent call came through, his mind racing with worst-case scenarios as he drove the streets to reach the location.
When he sees you, battered and bruised, a pang of heartache grips him. He's torn between wanting to hold you close and shake some sense into you. The sight of your pain is unbearable, and he struggles to contain his emotions as he approaches.
You're taking a break, sipping from a beer while Eddie inspects your wounds, his brow furrowed in concern. Though nothing serious, the bruises will leave their marks.
Despite the pain, you're all smiles and pride, reveling in the thrill of the fight. But when you catch sight of Tim, the smile fades from your face, replaced by a look of guilt.
"Tim?" you say, your voice barely above a whisper as you search his eyes. "What are you doing here?"
Tim's heart clenches at the sight of you, the blood and bruises marring your once flawless skin a stark reminder of the danger you willingly put yourself in.
"No, what are you doing here, Y/N?" he retorts,"What are you thinking? How can you be so reckless?"
"I'm not reckless," you protest, "I like it."
"Look at yourself, Y/N," he implores, his gaze softening. "Do you like what you see? Is this really what you want?"
Before you can respond, the break is over, and the announcer calls your names, signaling the start of the fight once more.
"Gotta go."
Tim watches helplessly as you disappear into the crowd, a sinking feeling settling in the pit of his stomach. Despite his love for you, he knows he can't force you to change, can't protect you from the dangers you willingly face. And as he watches you disappear from view, his heart breaks a little more with each step you take away from him.
As you return to the center of the 'ring', determination burns bright in your eyes, fueled by a desperate need to prove to Tim that you're not in over your head. You know what you're doing, and you're determined to show him that you can handle yourself.
The crowd roars with anticipation as the fight resumes, but this time, you're ready. Every movement is calculated, every strike precise as you weave and dodge with a grace that belies your size. You're quicker, sharper, and more focused than ever before, fueled by a burning desire to prove your worth.
Buck's voice breaks through the chaos, his concern evident as he turns to Tim. "Why don't you stop her, man?" he asks, his eyes pleading for action.
But Tim shakes his head, his gaze fixed on you with a mix of pride and worry. "She hates you for calling me," he replies, his voice tinged with resignation. "No need to have her hate me too."
Eddie chuckles at their exchange, a knowing smile playing on his lips. "Told you," he remarks, watching Buck with amusement.
As the fight reaches its climax, you find yourself on top, your opponent unable to keep up with your skill and determination. With one final, decisive blow, you send him sprawling to the ground, the crowd erupting into cheers as you emerge victorious.
As you collect your winnings from the bet, you make your way back to the three men, their concern palpable as they guide you to their cars.
Eddie pulls out the first aid kit, his hands gentle as he cleans up your wounds, his gaze soft with sympathy.
But it's Tim who captures your attention, his arms crossed over his chest, his expression unreadable. You meet his gaze, searching for some sign of understanding, of acceptance, but all you find is disappointment.
In that moment, as you stand before him battered and bruised yet still standing tall, Tim's heart aches with a fierce love for you. He knows he can't protect you from every danger, but he'll be damned if he doesn't try. And as he watches you, his resolve only strengthens, determined to be there for you no matter what.
As Tim pulls out his phone and dials Lucy's number, you can't help but feel a sense of dread creeping over you.
"What are you doing?"
Tim ignores you, his focus on the phone call as he speaks in hushed tones. When he finally hangs up, his expression is grave as he turns to Buck and Eddie, who have finished cleaning up your face.
"Chen's taking a night shift. Can you stay here and make sure no one leaves before the cops arrive?" he asks.
Buck nods solemnly. "Yeah, man. Sure."
You feel defeated as you watch the exchange, knowing that Tim's disappointment is palpable. "Tim..." you start, your voice trailing off as you search for some way to reach him.
But Tim turns away from you, his heart breaking at the sight of your face. "I'm not talking to you now," he says quietly.
Turning back to Buck and Eddie, he issues his final instructions. "Chen will call you when they're close. You leave this place immediately. Understood?"
Buck and Eddie nod in agreement, their expressions somber as they prepare to carry out Tim's orders. As they make their way back, you remain seated on the trunk, swinging your feet like a child who knows they're in trouble.
Tim closes the distance between you, kneeling before you with a tenderness that breaks your heart all over again. Cupping your cheek with one hand, he leans in and presses a gentle kiss to your forehead.
"Come on, baby," he murmurs, his voice soft with tenderness. "You're coming home with me."
You nod silently, too defeated to argue. Climbing into your car, you follow Tim back to his place.
Tim closes the door behind you, his expression unreadable as he watches you from across the room. Sitting in the middle of the room, you feel like a child who knows she's in trouble, awaiting her punishment with bated breath.
Tim's hand rests gently at your lower back as he guides you to the couch, his touch both comforting and protective. As you settle onto the cushions, a sense of unease settles over you, your heart heavy with guilt and apprehension.
"Are you mad at me?" you finally muster the courage to ask.
Tim's expression softens as he looks into your eyes, his love for you shining through the worry and frustration.
"No, baby," he replies, his voice gentle. "I'm not mad at you. I'm just worried about you. I don't want to lose you."
He takes a deep breath, his fingers tracing patterns on your skin as he struggles to put his feelings into words.
"I don't want to lose you," he admits, "I fear enough when you're out on calls, taking unnecessary risks with Buck to save lives. I don't need to worry about your safety off-duty, too, especially when you're doing something as dangerous as that."
You listen quietly, absorbing his words as he speaks.
"But why?" he asks, his voice pleading. "Why do you do this?"
You hesitate for a moment, grappling with the weight of his question before finally finding the words to respond.
"It's extra money," you admit, your voice tinged with resignation. "And it helps me. When I'm out there, I don't have to think about anything. No more problems, no more pain. And when I win, it's the best feeling in the world."
Tim's heart aches at your words, the pain of knowing that you're seeking solace in something so dangerous. He reaches out, taking your hand in his, his touch warm and reassuring.
"But, baby," he murmurs, his voice filled with love and concern. "Those fights are not good or fun. And you shouldn't have to risk your life to find peace. I'm here for you. Always."
His words wash over you like a wave of warmth, enveloping you in a cocoon of love and protection. In that moment, you realize just how lucky you are to have him by your side, a constant source of strength and support in a world filled with uncertainty.
Tim's expression softens as he looks at you, his eyes filled with an intensity that sends shivers down your spine.
"If you really want to fight, you can do it with me," he offers, his voice laced with a mixture of playfulness and determination. "I know a thing or two about that. I might even let you win, but only if it means keeping you safe."
His words, though tinged with playful jest, carry a weight of sincerity that fills your heart with warmth. You feel the depth of his love for you in every word, in every touch, and you're overwhelmed by a rush of emotion.
"But seriously, Y/N," he continues, his voice soft but resolute. "You need to stop doing this. I love you, and I can't bear to see you getting hurt again. It kills me to see you like this."
"Wait," you whisper, your voice trembling slightly. "You love me?"
Tim's smile widens as he reaches out to cup your cheeks, pressing a tender kiss to your forehead. "Of course I do, baby," he murmurs, "I love you. Even though you drive me insane and make me worry about you every second."
A smile tugs at your lips as you meet his gaze, a warmth spreading through you at the realization of his feelings. "I love you, Tim," you confess.
"But was it really necessary to call Lucy?"
Tim chuckles, a mischievous glint in his eyes. "I am a cop, after all," he replies, his tone playful. "I couldn't just walk away from that. And besides," he adds with a teasing smile, "I didn't have enough cuffs for everyone. Just for you."
You play along, a playful twinkle in your eye. "Oh, you gonna arrest me, Officer Bradford?" you tease, a smirk playing on your lips.
Tim leans in closer, his lips hovering just inches from yours. "I have something else in mind," he whispers, his voice husky with desire. "And cuffs might just help."
His words send a shiver down your spine, and as you lean in to kiss him, you're filled with a sense of warmth and belonging that only he can provide.
I'm so excited to start this story I've been building the plot over the last week. I'm still building the plot and structure but I wanted to introduce this. I expect 12 chapters but this is subject to change.
I have started writing and chapter one will be out next week, I'm doing finals and spring break starts so I can focus on it. After that I hope to put out a chapter a week. I started an Avatar series too and I will continue working on it but this one will be the priority. That's all for now
-Anna<3
Synopsis: The one thing Steve Harrington didn’t expect when his Best Friend, Robin Buckley told him her cousin was coming to live in Hawkins was that he would fall in love with her. To souls both yearning for home and stability cross paths and end up falling into each other's orbit. Overcoming struggles, wounds, and fear of losing the ones they love. Together they change, and create an unlikely friendship. What will happen when they are forced to confront their connection and these new feelings?
Mood Bored
Setting-takes place at the end of summer Season 3 1985, to about 1991
