#henderson reader

(Steve Harrington x Henderson!Reader)

Summary: You’re back from summer camp, and Steve doesn’t care if your brother is in the room next door. He needs you now.

Word count: 5.5 k

Warnings: 18+ MDNI. SMUT (p in v sex, unprotected, kinda sub!Steve, bit of choking, spitting, sweet and loving tbh), fluff, established but secret relationship, insecure and jealous steve, he is obsessed with you (as he should).

It all started with the Dart and the demodogs events right after Halloween. You were supposed to work on your college essays, even though the due date was in January. Yet one day, the loud noises in your backyard piqued your curiosity, and before you knew it, you were helping your brother and his friends... which apparently now included Steve “The Idiot” Harrington.

It was known at your school how much you disliked each other since freshman year, when he got the principal to move the basketball game to the same day as your winter play. You had been working on it for months, but no one attended because they were too busy watching Harrington score and take the school’s team to the finals. 

Maybe he had no bad intentions, but you didn’t care. After that, to you he was nothing more than a brainless jock who only cared about sports and sex. 

But everything changed the night you saw him bravely defend your brother and his little friends from the demodogs. You could blame it on your fatherless trauma or your teenager hormones, but watching him being so protective and caring of Dustin made you want to jump his bones. 

Steve enjoyed flirting with you just to rile you up; he was aware that you loathed him. So it shocked him when you kissed him in his car after dropping Dustin at the Snow Ball Dance. It had been a Christmas miracle he had been more than grateful to accept. 

From secret hookups at his car, at the school’s bathrooms, or at his always empty house, you evolved to long conversations, genuine laughter, and tender caresses in the dark. You both had promised yourselves you wouldn’t fall, but it had been inevitable.

On Valentine’s Day, he made it official by taking you to the beach and asking you to be his girlfriend under the stars. While you were getting fucked at his parents’ expensive beach house, your mother and brother thought you were having your usual sleepovers with Robin, your drama club friend.

You hated lying to your family and friends, but it made things less complicated. Steve loathed the idea of Dustin thinking he had only gotten close to him, becoming almost like a brotherly figure, to get in his sister’s pants. 

Steve and you wanted things to stay the same, even when a million changes were happening inside your heads and hearts. Whenever he was hanging out with Dustin, he would almost slip out a comment about you, then quickly cover it up with a cough and a change of topic. 

Everything was marching well, and no one was suspecting anything at all. As the school year came to an end, graduation and your departure to college were looming close. 

Deeply in love, Steve applied to NYU too. He was ready to leave Hawkins and be by your side in New York for the next five years... but he got rejected.

“Baby, it’s okay. I’ll be back on Christmas break, spring break, every time…” you tried to reassure him.

“It’s not the same,” Steve whined.

He cried in his car for almost an hour with you holding him against your chest while soothing his back. “We’ll talk on the phone every day, babe, I promise.”

After the sadness had passed, Steve started making plans for the summer, determined to spend every second with you. 

However, everything was ruined when your mother forced you to work as a counselor at Dustin’s science summer camp, Camp Know Where. 

“It’ll be just a month, Steve.”

“I’m gonna kill myself in front of your mom.”

“Steve! That’s not funny.”

“I’ll sign as a counselor too then.”

“I tried, but they already closed the list. I’m sorry, baby.”

Bored without Dustin or you, Steve felt like he had no summer goal or motivation. He therefore applied to every store at the new Hawkins mall until he was hired. 

When he saw the outfit he was supposed to wear, he wished he had stayed at his house staring at the ceiling for the whole month. 

At least he had Robin Buckley as a fellow tortured teenager—also known as ‘coworker’—at Scoops Ahoy. She was the only one who knew about your relationship since she had to pretend you were with her rather than at Steve's whenever your mother called. 

Thanks to that, he had the freedom to whine about how much he was missing you all the time. Robin was the least supportive person ever, of course; she just teased and made fun of him, but at least it was refreshing being able to express his feelings about you with someone. 

Steve marked on his calendar the day you were supposed to be back from camp. Talking on the phone was forbidden over there, so he relied on the letters you wrote him. Robin gifted him a ceramic box to keep them all, and he’d sometimes reread them on his bed before and after work. 

Even though you had fallen for him first, it was clear Steve had fallen harder. He knew he was absurdly smitten and looked very pathetic, especially to dumb people like Robin. But his love for you was too strong to care about her opinion. 

He felt like no one else would understand him. No one would comprehend that in less than six months he had realized he wanted to spend the rest of his life with you. 

Finally, Dustin and you were back on a Sunday night. Steve was supposed to pick you up down the street, away from Dustin’s nosy eyes, tomorrow before his shift. He said he had planned a surprise... which you hoped included lots of sex. 

Your mom and Dustin had fallen asleep hours before, but a single glance at your disorganized room had agitated you enough to want it cleaned before dawn. You’d taken a long, hot shower and begun the complicated task of cleaning your room. It was almost midnight, and you were too tired to change out of your towel. 

Pop music was humming at a low volume from your radio as you rearranged your books in alphabetical order, a pet peeve you had. 

TAP TAP TAP

You were too focused on your books to hear the tapping on your window. The song had changed to an ABBA one, causing you to groove and sing, “Gimme, gimme, gimme a man after midnight.”

Suddenly, a hand covered your mouth while another held your hip. You felt your heart accelerate and your stomach drop at the feeling of a body pressing against yours. 

That was it. You were about to die tonight. 

You screamed against the hand and tried to free yourself.

“Shh, it's me! It's me!” Steve whispered urgently. 

Color came back to your face. You pushed him off and glared at him. “What the fuck? I almost had a heart attack.”

But, wow, he looked incredibly handsome in a red polo shirt and jeans, his hair standing perfect with just a messy strand falling over his forehead, and his brown eyes staring at you as if you were holding the moon. 

Steve was admiring you too, specifically the simple towel around your body. His hands remained on your hips as he explained, “I’m sorry for scaring you, baby. But I’ve been knocking on your window for the past fifteen minutes. I didn’t want to knock harder and wake up the entire house.”

That brought you back to reality. You had never ever met at your house, given that Dustin’s room was next to yours. 

You paled and covered his mouth. “Steve, this is too risky. You shouldn't be here!”

He kissed your hand and gently pushed it away. “I had to see you. I've missed you so much.”

You smiled, falling instantly, and hugged him. You nuzzled your face on his chest before inhaling hard. He was wearing the perfume you had gifted him.

Steve chuckled as he caressed and kissed her hair. “Thank goodness, you’re back. My right wrist was starting to ache.”

Your jaw dropped, and you pulled back to gape at him. “Wow. You’re such a pig. What happened with ‘I cry so hard when I’m without you’ and all the corny things you wrote?”

Steve’s cheeks turned red. “That’s also true, and I could talk for ten hours about how much I’ve missed you, but…” His eyes dropped back to your towel-covered body. “Is that the solar system?”

You smiled and twirled so he could see the rest of the planets on your themed towel. “Cool, right?”

He snorted. “Yeah, but you’d look so much better without it, babe.” His hands lowered to squeeze your ass and pull you impossibly closer. 

You pressed your hands in his chest and moved your face to the side. “Steve, this isn’t a good idea. Can’t you wait until tomorrow?”

Steve kissed your temple as he murmured, “Babe, I’ve been hard all day just from thinking about touching you again… I don’t think I can control myself now.”

You smirked but tried to be firm as you avoided his kisses. “What if someone hears us?”

Steve pouted. “I’ll be quiet.”

“You know I can’t be,” you whispered nervously. “It’s too difficult.”

“I’ll cover your mouth.” He placed his hand over your lips. “You can bite it. I don’t mind.”

You jokingly licked it before pushing it away. It had been almost six months of being extremely careful about hiding your relationship. But after four weeks of no heat, no kisses, no breathy grunts on your ear while he pounded into you from behind…

Fuck it. 

“Sit down on the bed.”  

Steve almost ran as he obeyed. His hands fidgeted with the sheets. You bit back a chuckle at his eagerness. He had the charm of making every time like the first one, always shaking from excitement. 

You turned around and shook your ass playfully. Steve chuckled, then pinched a cheek. “Wanna see what’s behind Mars.”

“Steve!” you squealed as he suddenly ripped off your towel; the AC’s cold air made you shiver. 

Steve’s darkened eyes traveled up and down your body. “So beautiful. Like a painting.”

You snorted and did a goofy pose. He rolled his eyes but smirked. “Twirl. Let me see what I’ve dreamed of all these nights.”

“Like a microwaved chicken?” you joked but ended up attending to his petition. 

He sighed deeply and adjusted himself in his jeans. “Fuck, sweetheart. Sometimes I feel like you aren’t real. You should be at a beauty pageant, not tolerating me.”

“That’s so true,” you teased, posing again. 

A lightbulb turned on in Steve’s head.  “D’you still have that Polaroid cam?”

You crossed your arms, covering your breasts much to Steve’s dismay. “Not happening.”

“Princess, please,” he whined. “I ruined the last one two weeks ago.”

“What? You had five!”

He unbuckled his belt. “I accidentally finished on them. Oh, and I’ll also need more of your thongs.” He shoved down his jeans and underwear with his eyes glued to your body. 

There was no way… “Steve, you have like six of them”

“I ruined them too, baby,” he whined and reached for your hips to pull you close. He kissed your stomach. “You’re so soft.” 

You grasped his hair and pulled him off you, making him pout. “No touching for now. You can’t just ruin my stuff with no consequence.”

Steve whined dramatically. “Be mean tomorrow, please. I need you so badly right now.”

And by the precum around his painfully hard cock, you could tell he wasn’t lying. You were desperately horny too, but you loved teasing him. 

You uncrossed your arms. “Take it all off and touch yourself the way you’ve done it these past days.”

He rolled his eyes and reluctantly complied. His discarded clothing and shoes landed next to your bed. His hand wrapped around his cock and stroked it slowly. He sighed shakily as his gaze swept across your body, lingering on your lips and breasts. 

“Tell me what you imagined. All of it.”

Steve licked his lips and murmured, “Your lips… how good they feel around me. How deep you take me,” he moaned but quickly bit his lip. “Will you suck me off today, princess? P-please…”

“I don’t know if I want to,” you lied. You wanted to blow him off until your jaw ached and his cum choked you. “Do you think you deserve it?”

He looked at you with pleading eyes. “Y-yes. No. I—”

“Didn’t I ask you to tell me something?”

Steve gulped, ashamed, and nodded. “I’m sorry. You’re right. As always, baby.” His hand was loose around his cock while he stroked it slowly, afraid of coming too soon. “I’d remember your moans when you ride me… Or when I’m fucking you from behind. Fuck, you are noisy when I do that.”

Rolling your eyes, your cheeks turned pink, but you didn’t interrupt him.

“I’d remember your ass and I’d get hard in an instant, baby. It was so difficult at work. I had to hide in the bathroom. Don’t tell Robin.”

You couldn’t contain your chuckle. “She’d kick you out.”

He smiled, proud that he made you laugh. “Yeah, I knew that could happen, but I didn’t care.  Sometimes I’d imagine you going for a swim at that fucking camp… with that tiny red bikini I told you to not wear without me around…”

Oh, you remembered that. You had bought it at a sex store just to rile him up, and it had worked a bit too much. You lied that you would take it to your beach trip and he almost ripped it in two.  

“I imagined those idiots looking at what’s mine,” he murmured with a frown. “Did they try to hit on you?”

You shrugged. “Of course.”

His free hand turned into a fist around your sheets. “Did they try to touch you?”

You scoffed, “Obviously, who wouldn’t?”

His hand stopped. In a flash, Steve stood up and grasped your face. He muttered against your lips, “Tell me you’re joking, Y/N. I’m not fucking kidding.”

Oh, you loved riling him up like this. You looked at him with feigned innocence. “I told them I have a boyfriend.” He sighed, relieved. “But they didn’t care.” 

His eyes turned darker. He dropped his hold to pass his hands through his hair as he paced around the room, panting nervously. His insecure mind conjured a hundred of fake scenarios of men’s hands roaming your body, taking you on the lake, the bunk beds, the showers…

Well, you felt a bit bad at his reaction. You caressed his arm. “I’m joking, honey.”

“I don’t like when you do that,” he mumbled, sitting down again. “I’ve told you before, Y/N. It’s not funny at all.”

“I’m sorry.” You knelt down between his legs and kissed his hand. “All the boys were annoying, cocky, ugly nerds. And I only have eyes for one handsome, cock-y man.” You slapped his dick gently and smirked

Steve sighed and patted your cheek. “Stick to your studies, baby. Comedy isn’t your strongest forte.”

You giggled. “Okay, that joke was horrible. But I make good ones sometimes!”

“Whatever you say, baby.” His thumb caressed your bottom lip as lust overcame his senses again. “You’re only mine, right?”

The insecurity in his voice made you feel like shit. No boy had tried to talk to you at camp. They were all so nervous around your confident, hot self. So out of place for them. And you hadn’t even noticed if they had stared at you. Your mind had been on Steve all the time.

You had to remind your man that you wanted no one else.

Your nails tauntingly ghosted from his knees to his upper thighs. Steve shuddered and his cock twitched.

“I also touched myself a lot thinking about you,” you admitted. “I used to smell your sweatshirt while I fingered myself.”

He moaned. “The green one?”

“Yeah, the Tigers one I stole from your closet,” you smirked as your hands squeezed his cock. He whined before you suddenly pulled away, stood up, and straddled him. “Touch yourself while I talk.”

His hand flew to grasp himself; his eyes dropped to your breasts. “You’re so beautiful.”

“Shut up.”

“Sorry,” he instinctively said.

Your hands clutched his shoulders. “I’d pictured the last day before I left. When we were on your bed and I sat on your face. D’you remember it?”

He nodded quickly. “I made you come five times with just my tongue.”

You tapped his nose. “Mhm. Such a good boy…”

He whimpered and sped up his hand. “Just wanna please you, baby.”

“I’d remember your big hands grabbing me, moving me around… shoving my head into your pillow while you fucked me hard…” you whispered. “’Twas a great night.”

“It was amazing,” he mumbled. He stopped to tease his tip before stroking slowly again. “I would do anything for you, princess.”

“Yeah? Anything to please me?” you smirked, enjoying how he was slowly turning to the submission mindset you liked.

He nodded without hesitation. “I love you so much. Only think about you all day. Need you… All the fucking time,” he whined and closed his eyes as he remembered that last night. Fuck, he had to calm down or he would finish in a few seconds. 

His shaky, eager state was impressive, taking into consideration that you weren’t even touching or kissing him. 

“Are you obsessed with me, Steve?” you teased.

He gave another firm nod. “Abso-fucking-lutely. Please, let me touch you…”

You sighed, pretending you weren’t just as desperate. “Fine, you can take control.”

Steve’s hands flew to your hips and his lips crashed into yours frantically. He turned you until you were on your back with him hovering over you. 

“Prettiest… My girl… Only mine,” he kept murmuring sweet things as his kisses lowered to your jaw, down to your neck, until they reached your breasts. 

He looked up at you for permission before diving into one of your nipples, sucking excitedly. His tongue circling around it made you moan a bit too loudly. Steve quickly covered your mouth with his hand, not stopping as he switched to your other nipple.

His hips were rubbing against the mattress, pathetically searching for any kind of friction. His desperation was pulling your heartstrings. Maybe you could be nice for once.

You pushed his hand down to your neck when you were sure you could control yourself. “Just like that, baby. You’re doing so good,” you whispered. “Always so good for me, yeah?”

His hand grasped your neck with the exact amount of pressure you wanted. He pulled back after kissing the soft valley between your breasts. “Only for you, princess.”

And because you knew how much he enjoyed it, you pulled his hair hard. “You didn’t flirt with any other girls while I was gone.”

His eyes went wide as he shook his head fervently. “No, never. They are nothing compared to you.”

You knew he wasn’t lying, but you kept playing. “So if I ask Robin, she’ll tell me that you behaved.”

“Yes, call her right now if you want, baby.” Steve kissed your breasts one last time before going up to your lips. “I’d rather cut my arm off than look at another girl. I have the perfect one in my arms.”

Your smirk turned into a loving smile at his words. You caressed his chest and whispered genuinely, “I missed you so much, Stevie.”

His hands lowered to rub your hips as your legs wrapped around him. “I don’t wanna spend another day without you by my side…”

Words vanished from your lips as Steve pushed in delicately. You bit your lip hard to quiet down your moans, only nodding to assure him he could move deeper. 

“You were made for me,” he whispered breathlessly when he sank fully inside you. “Only for me, baby. Say it.”

Your arched back and nails marking him apparently weren’t answer enough. “I’m yours, Steve.”

Those simple words were enough to make him move, pulling all the way back before thrusting deeply. You whined softly, keeping your sounds just to his ears. He had promised he would cover them, but he needed to hear you after an entire month of silence.

“You fill me so good,” you moaned against his lips. “Missed you inside me.”

Steve had imagined your reunion sex a hundred times. He would picture you riding him on his car, or sucking him off as he drove you to a beautiful picnic, or fucking you against a wall of the first private place he would find. 

But right now, as your glassy eyes looked at him tenderly, your shaky hands grasped his shoulders, and your parted lips grazed his with every thrust… he just wanted to lose himself into you by making love in a passionate, slow way. Just two lovers surrendering to the love their hearts couldn’t contain.

“Yeah?” he whispered before kissing you gently. “I love you.”

But you were brought out of the moment when you realized… your bed was thumping against the wall with each thrust. “Steve…”

He seemed to read your mind and seized his movements. “Fuck.”

You sat up nervously and grabbed two of your pillows to place them between the headboard and the wall. “Okay, that should work.” You returned to your spot beneath him and kissed his cheek. “Keep going.”

But Steve was frowning and glaring at you. “How do you know that? Have you brought any other boys here before me?”

You rolled your eyes, regretting your instinctive actions. “No, I haven’t.”

He huffed and shook his head. “Then how do you know that, Y/N? I’m serious—”

With a harsh hold on the nape of his neck, you brought him down to a messy, open-mouthed kiss that made him forget everything. Steve pulled your hips closer and drove into you again. 

He raised your legs to his shoulders and pressed closer until they almost reached your chest, knowing how much it turned you on to be bent to your limits. His pace accelerated slightly, each thrust harder than the last.

“Oh, fuck,” you moaned. “Steve, you’re so deep. Feels great, babe.”

You bit your lip hard when he hit your g-spot, blurring your vision for a second. Just like Steve, you enjoyed rough sex against any surface available. But nothing could compare to making love on your own bed after a month of no romance. 

He kissed your forehead and whispered, “I love you.”

You were too entranced in how much his cock was filling you that you just whimpered in response. Maybe he was right; your pussy was made for him… or whatever he had said. 

Fuck, the person you were a year ago would be devastated to learn how much Steve Harrington’s big dick could reduce you to an absurd mess. When he claimed you, all you could think about was how you couldn’t live without him deep inside you.

“Yes, yes, yes,” you whimpered, lost in lust.

But he suddenly stopped. The fuzziness in your brain dispersed as you tried to decipher what was wrong. 

Steve’s eyes resembled a kicked puppy’s. “Why didn’t you say it back?”

You frowned and mumbled, “W-what? D-don’t stop.”

“You didn’t say ‘I love you’ back,” he whispered in a trembling voice. “Are you okay? Have I done something wrong?”

Fuck, you had missed it completely. Since you started dating, Steve had always been open about his various insecurities due to his past relationship with Nancy Wheeler. One of them being the unresponded ‘I love you’s.

“I’m so sorry. I didn’t hear it.” You kissed him all across his face. “I love you so much, baby.”

He seemed more calm after your reassuring words. “I know you do. I’m sorry for getting like this—”

“No, I get it.” You kissed his lips, making sure you poured all the yearning you had for him. “You were fucking me so good that I couldn’t think of anything else.”

He smirked and laid you down again. “Did I fuck you stupid?” 

You rolled your eyes and muttered, “You know you do. C’mon. Keep going.”

He loved how bossy and dominant you attempted to be during sex, but with a few hard thrusts, he would have you at his mercy.

Steve placed one of your plushies beneath your hips, the new angle letting him pound into you faster and deeper. This time, he had to cover your mouth to avoid waking up the entire street. 

“God, always so tight for me,” he grunted. “Gripping me so perfectly, baby. Made for me.”

Your eyes rolled back as you whimpered against his hand. The pleasure was unbearably overwhelming.

“I can feel you’re close.” He thrust roughly once to prove his point. “You’ll let me take home more panties, right, princess?”

Even though you had almost no underwear left, you nodded fervently. His right hand slithered down your body till it reached your clit. As he rubbed it, he looked down at his cock driving inside you and almost lost it.

“Baby… I’m not gonna last long,” he confessed and moved his thumb faster, making you squirm.

You lowered his hand from your mouth and whined, “It’s okay if—”

“No. Want you to come first.”

“But I don’t mind if—”

“Absolutely not,” he grunted. 

Blame it on his ego, but he would never ever let himself finish before you. Your pleasure was his priority. He knew your body like the palm of his hand, and he knew exactly what turned you on.

Without slowing down his thrusts, he grasped your cheeks until your mouth opened and spat inside it. “Swallow.”

The way your pussy clenched around him almost made him lose his last bit of self-control. A few more seconds of Steve rubbing your clit tipped you over into release.

He had to press his hand against your mouth as you let out a brokenly loud moan. Your back arched, as if possessed, and your hands gripped the sheets to the point of almost tearing them apart.

Steve smirked and rooted into you harshly; the lovemaking out the window. “‘M not letting you go again, baby. Need you like this every night.”

And just as he was about to finish, a sudden realization dropped on him. Steve froze and looked at you with wide eyes. “I forgot the condom. You’re still on the pill?”

You chuckled and nodded. He was really thinking about that now?

He sighed relieved and kept going until his orgasm unraveled completely, filling you up with his cum. His thrusts slowed until he was sure every drop was inside you, then he collapsed next to you and quickly brought you into a hug.

“I’m glad you’re back,” he murmured while kissing your head. 

You briefly looked down at your sprawled legs and the white liquid pouring out of you, drenching your sheets. But, fuck, you were too tired to care.

“I wouldn’t have minded,” Steve whispered.

“What?” you yawned.

“If you weren’t on the pill…” His hand caressed your belly. His softening cock almost twitched at the thought of you pregnant with his child. “I wouldn’t mind starting a family with you now.”

You snorted and turned around so he could cuddle you from behind. “Steve, we just turned eighteen.”

“I don’t care. I have a job now. I’d maintain you and our kid. You could move into my house since my parents are never there anyway,” he rambled softly in your ear. 

“What about college?” you whispered.

“We would go with you to New York. I’d get a job and take care of our baby while you study,” he continued. “Then, I’d become a millionaire to maintain you, the most powerful businesswoman in the country, and our six kids.”

“Six?” you chuckled, more asleep than conscious. “Mhm… great idea.”

It wasn’t the first time he had dreamed awake of having the whole combo with you. Steve wanted to marry you, buy a mansion on the countryside and have a big family full of kids with your eyes, your smile, your wit…

“Good night,” he whispered, even though you had already dozed off.

— — —

Next morning...

Dustin couldn’t wait to see his friends again. He would show them everything he made at camp and tell them about his beautiful girlfriend.

He only needed a hat he was sure he had stashed in one of your bags. 

It was almost nine o’clock in the morning, so if Dustin accidentally woke you up, it would be your fault. He walked into your room carelessly, used to giving you no privacy. 

“Good morning, dumb—” His words were cut short by the sight of your cluttered room. The amount of clothes scattered around the floor made it seem like a minefield. “Fucking hell, Y/N, do you know the concept of decency?”

The air conditioner was set at its highest volume, so you were covered from head to toe by the sheets. He walked towards the bed, smiling devilishly, and took off the duvet. 

Dustin’s high-pitched scream probably woke up half the neighbourhood. 

“WHAT THE HELL?!”

Steve and you sat up in a flash, looking around confused and half-asleep. Thankfully, you had put on an old hoodie and some shorts in the middle of the night, but your boyfriend…

Dustin covered his eyes and turned around. His hands reached for anything until he grabbed a bottle of water. He swung it around in the direction of the bed. “I’LL KILL YOU, HARRINGTON!”

His hits were practically missing Steve, but it didn’t lower the fear inside both of you. Steve jumped off the bed and got dressed hurriedly.

“Henderson, let me explain,” he tried. “It’s not what it looks like.”

“Really? ‘Cause it looked like you were fucking my sister under my own roof!” Dustin replied, finally glaring at Steve with nothing but fury. He raised the water bottle and threw it at his head. “Come here, you son of a bitch!”

Steve moved out of the way. “Calm down! I won’t fight with you.”

“Well, I will!” Dustin tackled him to the ground.

You gasped and quickly rushed to pull your brother off your boyfriend. “Dustin, stop! What the hell are you doing?”

“Murdering him!” Dustin had picked up the water bottle and was hitting Steve with it. 

“Henderson, just listen!” Steve was trying to cover his face from the attacks. “I love her. This isn’t just a hookup, I swear!”

Dustin’s arm froze right before another hit. You took advantage of his stillness and pulled him off Steve.

They both stood up, looking at each other breathlessly. You quickly placed yourself between them.

Still panting, Steve said, “I know I have a bad reputation, but I love your sister more than anything in my life.”

“Dust, you know me. I’m not stupid. I genuinely love him,” you said firmly. “And I have for the last six months.”

Dustin took a step back, flinching from your words. “You’ve been hiding it from me all this time?”

Steve placed an arm around you as he moved to stand at your side. “I asked her to. I was afraid that you would think I just befriended you to get to her.”

You gulped and stepped closer to your brother. “But he didn’t, Dust. I swear I started it. I kissed him.”

Dustin looked to the ground quietly, then at you two. “I know I have… almost no patience. I’m impulsive and—”

“Hot-headed,” Steve completed as he rubbed the place where Dustin had hit him. You glared at him, making him add, “Uhm, not the moment. Sorry.”

Your brother ignored him and kept talking. “And, as much as I hate to admit it, you two are a good match, but… I wish I hadn’t found out like this.”

“You’re right,” you quickly replied. “I’m sorry.” 

Your bond with your brother… the trust, the love and the care between you was the most important thing in your life. And for a second, you almost lost it for a boy.

“However…” Dustin continued. A small smirk spread across his face. “If one of you hurts the other, I’ll kill you both.”

His teasing tone was a sign that he wasn’t completely mad anymore. Your souls came back to your bodies. 

You pulled away from Steve and hugged Dustin. “I’m sorry.”

He grimaced and pushed you off. “Ew! You probably haven’t showered after… it.”

Steve’s cheeks turned red and he stammered, “We didn’t—”

“I’m not an idiot, I heard odd sounds last night, but I thought it was street cat,” Dustin muttered, glaring with disgust. “I’m happy you two found your other halves or whatever, but don’t fuck in my house. Ever again. Or I will snitch with mom.”

You rolled your eyes but nodded. Steve said, “Never again. We promise.”

Dustin walked past you and slammed the door shut, bringing the quietness back. 

Steve sighed deeply and dropped his head on your shoulder. “I think I peed a bit.”

“Ew!” You chuckled and pushed him off you. “That was… less bad than I imagined.”

He reached for you, ignoring your protests, and kissed you softly. “Now I can do that whenever I want.”

Right when you were about to reply, a startling yell came from the other side of the door, “And use protection! I’m not ready to be an uncle!”

---

a/n: happy holidays! a gift in honor of vol. 2 day. hope our man doesn't die tho.

summary : tensions had been high with you and steve since almost being caught by dustin twenty times this week alone.

pairing : steve harrington x henderson!reader

warnings : mdni 18+, piv , kinda mean!steve

a/n : awfully self indulgent soz

a little april fools special ᥫ᭡

𝙥𝙖𝙞𝙧𝙞𝙣𝙜: steve harrington x fem!henderson!reader

𝙨𝙪𝙢𝙢𝙖𝙧𝙮: A prank war between you and Steve backfires when a thunderstorm washes away your paint, leaving behind an accidental love confession scribbled across his car.

𝙘𝙤𝙣𝙩𝙚𝙣𝙩: fluff, with a side of making out. a little bit of cussing. Steve and reader are college age. 3.8k words

“Son of a bitch.” Dustin mutters beside you. 

“Language,” you remind him, but the reprimand falls flat. You’re too busy staring at rainbow grenade parked in your driveway. 

Your entire car is filled with balloons. Rubber blues, oranges, greens, and pinks packed so tightly they press into the windows, completely blocking the interior. 

And you know exactly who to blame. 

Your watch beeps, sending a thread of panic through you. “God! I’ve got to get to my test!” You hitch your backpack higher and start toward the car. “Why does it have to be today? Of all the days!”

The morning sun throws your reflections across the grey-blue paint, warping you to look shorter than you are. As you approach, you eye the driver’s side door handle suspiciously, as if it might succumb to all that internal pressure and pop off before you can reach it. 

“Well it is April Fools today,” Dustin offers unhelpfully. “So…at least he’s punctual.”

“Not helping,” you grit out, finally wrenching open the door. 

 A shriek catches in your throat as an avalanche of balloons spills out, bouncing across the ground in every direction.

“How did he even do this?” Dustin says in awe, kicking at a pink balloon drifting past. “It’s kind of impressive. It must’ve taken him forever.”

“God, I hope he’s stumbling all over campus right now, dizzy from lack of oxygen. Oh my God—look! They’re all over the street. Dustin, go catch them.”

“Hey, I’ve got to get to school, too!” he says, gesturing towards his backpack. “Better drive fast.”

You check the time on your watch, batting a ballon from your face. “Ah, shit, there’s no time. Okay, listen, go call Nancy. She’s student-teaching the freshmen at your high school now, right? If you ask her right now, she’ll probably have enough time to swing by and pick you up.”

“No,” Dustin groans. “I don’t want to call Nancy! Her car smells like a perfume bomb went off, and she’ll just lecture me the whole way about turning in my homework on time.”

You ignore his complaints, attempting to forge your way into the driver’s seat. Balloons slide over your head as you push through, the static promptly ruining your fresh blowout. 

“And to think all I was going to do to him this year was tape over his mixtapes,” you mutter, glancing back to meet your brother’s eyes. “Dustin…this means war.”

“Oh, shit!” He grins, readjusting his hat like he’s gearing up for the battle ahead. “What are you gonna do to him?”

“I don’t know,” you say, shoving your backpack into the passenger seat with all your might. “But I swear, if I miss this test, Steve Harrington is going to pay.”

“Do you know how long it takes to get rid of a hundred balloons?” You complain to Robin later that afternoon. 

The cart squeaks along the carpet as you push the next pile of videos over for re-shelving. Robin waits at the end of the row for you, wearing a green Family Video vest that matches yours. 

“You can’t just…take them out,” you continue. “Oh, no. Because then they all fly away in the wind, absolutely littering the road. And it takes so long to chase them down—don’t ask me how I know. And then only, like, six of them fit inside a trash bag. Six! Which means you have to pop them all first, and then stuff them in a bag, I mean seriously, Robin. I think my ears are still ringing.”

She grimaces, picking up Alien 2 and sliding it into its place. 

 “I had to drive to the college with all my windows blocked by the damn things. Huge safety hazard, by the way. And of course, my professor wouldn’t even let me in the testing room by the time I got there.”

Robin’s eyes widen with every word until she’s simply staring at you. “Wow, that is…wait. Where is Steve today, anyway?” 

“I swapped shifts with him because sometimes he has an afternoon class that runs late on Mondays.”

She looks at you for another moment. “That was…nice of you.”

You shrug. “It wasn’t a big deal. But now, I’m done playing nice.”

A smile twists her lips as she moves down a row. “…Okay.”

“I’m serious, Robin!” You say, flipping your hair over your shoulder in exasperation. “This year, I’m going to do it. I’m gonna cross the uncrossable line.”

She freezes, then slowly turns to face you.  “Oh my God. You wouldn’t.”

“Mark my words, Buckley. This is the year I go for the Beamer.” You point Footloose at her. “And I’m going to need your help.”

The plan sounded pretty badass in theory. 

You were going to be a ninja in the night, leaving a message for your enemy. No—a promise. 

You could almost picture yourself tossing back your hood under the full moon and licking the knife of victory, letting revenge bloom sweet on your tongue as you put an end to the prank wars. 

But in reality…it looks like you crouching in the bushes with bugs crawling down your shirt, and cringing every time a car’s headlights sweep past. 

Even though the sun went down hours ago, it’s still not dark enough for your taste. Gone are your visions of being an alluring silhouette against the stars, because the Harrington house sits in a neighborhood that believes in the HOA, twenty-four-hour police watch, and lots and lots of streetlights. 

Which is why you brought your lookout. 

“You’re positive this stuff will wash off?” You ask Robin for the thousandth time, smuggling the paint can out of your jean jacket and holding it close to read the label again. 

“I mean, you heard the guy at the store—shit—” she ducks, spitting out a twig, “—he said it comes off with water. It’s like…liquid kid’s chalk or something.”

Steve’s Beamer sits in front of you, maroon and silver glinting in the light. Look at it. Oblivious. Unassuming. 

The streetlights buzz above your head, blending with the croaks of nearby frogs. They’re probably breeding in Steve’s pool. There’s always, like, a gigillion of them every time you come over to swim in the summer. 

It’s a warm night for early April, but a cool breeze stirs your hair, carrying that earthy, bitter smell of water in the air. 

“Wait—is it supposed to rain?” you whisper.

“Shit, I don’t know,” Robin replies. “I wasn’t really tracking the weather, I was more focused on us not getting arrested. Or killed by Steve if he finds us. What are you going to write, anyway?”

With one last look around the empty street, you shake the bottle and pop the lid. “I thought I’d just let the spirit guide me.” 

“The spirit of what?” she asks, but you’re already creeping toward the car. 

This product isn’t like normal spray paint. The bottle hisses the same, and sort of sputters if you go too fast, but it writes smoothly—almost like a gel pen but in paint form. 

The whole thing has your pulse pounding in your throat, your body wired, ready to run. It’s kind of…really fun. 

You write two words. Attention ladies. That’s good. 

You pause, shake the bottle, glance around, then go again. 

By the end of the first sentence, you’re adding little flourishes to the ends of your letters.This paint is amazing. Your knees ache from bending over this long, and you’re a little lightheaded from the fumes. But when you’re finally running out of space, you stand back to admire your work. 

From the trunk, all the way to the hood, in bright white letters, it reads: 

ATTENTION LADIES: STEVE IS A TERRIBLE LOVER. YOU DON’T WANT TO KISS HIM.

“Wow,” Robin says, appearing at your side. 

You jump. “God! Don’t—sneak like that.”

“That is…” She trails off, shaking her head, gaze pinned to the car. 

“What?” you ask. “Petty?”

She shrugs, her white T-shirt glowing under the streetlight. “Well, yeah…” 

You tuck the can into your jean jacket. “Childish?” 

“Absolutely.” After a moment she adds, “How do you know he’s a terrible lover?”

You freeze.“W-what?”

She’s still staring at your words, lips pursed, head cocked to the side, waiting for your reply. 

“I don’t! I just—it’s a prank, Robin!”

She holds her hands out in defense. “Okay! Okay, I was just curious. You know. If you’ve had, like, firsthand experience or something.”

 “God! What? No! I just—you know how big his ego is,” you whisper, unsure of exactly why you’re still explaining yourself. “I’m just trying to…knock it down a little.”

Truth is, you don’t really know why you wrote that. All that went through your mind was him rolling up to a red light, doing a stupid double take at the girl next to him in her shiny red convertible. Putting on his sunglasses—the ones he thinks make him look cool—and rolling down his window. She’d take one look at that hair, that smile, and start fluttering her lashes. Maybe reapply her lipstick in the mirror, purposely parting her mouth in a pretty O, just to get his thoughts to run rampant and dirty.

And then…

Something on his car would catch her eye. Words. She’d read them…and then she’d drive off before the light turned green. 

It’s brilliant. Or, you thought it was. And anyway, it’s not like it’s going to last forever. Steve Harrington can go a few days without another date. 

“Okay, sorry, and what’s the kissing part supposed to mean?” Robin asks, drawing you from your thoughts. 

You sigh, exasperated. “What do you mean, what does it mean? I think it’s pretty self-explanatory—car!” 

You both dive into the bushes just as headlights sweep over the driveway. The car passes, the engine rattling off into the distance. You press a hand over your racing heart. 

“So you’ve kissed him then?” Robin says once you’ve both caught your breath.

“What? No!” You practically shriek. It echoes down the silent street and you smack your forehead, wincing at the sound. 

Robin stifles a laugh with her knuckles to her lips. “Okay, so if you haven’t slept with him, and you haven’t kissed him, then this—” she gestures through the bushes at your work, “—looks like it came from some petty-ex girlfriend.”

“Oh my God,” you turn back to the car. “You’re right. Wait here.”

You ignore Robin’s hiss to be careful as you creep forwards again. When you’re close enough, you sign your name on the right-hand sign with a little heart, like you always do. 

There. Now he’ll know. 

But as you step back to admire your work a second time, your stomach sinks. 

What are you doing? You just wrote…that… on his car. And signed it. 

There your name sits right under the words lover, and kiss, and Steve…

A light flicks on in the neighboring house. It might as well be the heavens cracking open with the way you take off. 

Thankfully, Robin takes the hint, and scampers across the yard after you. 

“Why did I do that?” you whisper as you near the car. The grass swishes under your sneakers, mixing with Robin’s raspy chuckle. “You made me do it!”

“You know he’s going to be pissed right?” Robin says, slamming the door behind her and throwing her car into gear. “Like—completely off his rocker, pissed.”

“Great,” You deadpan, checking over your shoulder one more time. “Maybe he’ll get so mad, he’ll declare me the official winner and we can stop this war altogether.”

Robin scoffs. “You’re telling me this time next year, you’re just gonna be like ‘wow, I really don’t miss that extremely flirtatious prank war we used to have going’? Because I don’t believe that for a second.

You don’t answer right away, your brain still short-circuiting over the word flirtatious. 

She glances over and catches your expression. “Oh, don’t—seriously? I’m stuck in that video store with the two of you. I know exactly how you look at each other.”

“We don’t look at each other any certain way! We don’t look at each other…at all, actually! Our eyes just…never…connect—God, Robin.” You huff, turning to watch the streetlights blur past. “Are you just choosing to ignore all the times he comes in with some girl-of-the-week draped on his arm? Or all the times he rushes closing because he’s late for some hot new date?”

Robin looks over at you for a long moment. Her blinker clicking fills the silence. 

“You’re jealous,” she says abruptly. 

“Am not. 

“Are too.”

You give up, pressing your forehead to the cool glass and letting out a miserable groan. You are.

You have been for a very, very long time.

“Hey, look at it this way,” she says, jutting a thumb back the way you came. “If that stuff actually is as water-soluble as the guy said, there’s like a solid chance this whole thing is gone by morning.”

Your face rolls into your palms. “This was such a terrible idea.”

“Eh, I don’t know,”  Robin says, a smile in her voice. “Sometimes, those are the best kind.”

It’s late afternoon the next day, and you’re almost done with your shift when a familiar voice echoes through the quiet Family Video store. 

“Is this your idea of a prank, Henderson? ‘Cause it’s not fucking funny!”

Shit. 

The knot of anxiety in your stomach had been easing with the gentle click of video cases as you checked the returns—and because you talked to your professor again this morning. Thankfully, after a mortifying amount of pleading, he’s letting you retake the test in his office this afternoon.

But now, hearing Steve angrily stomp into work….it’s back. 

You barely slept last night. Lightning crashed outside, rain pelted your roof, and louder than all of it was the worry about what Steve would do when he saw his car this morning. 

You sort of let yourself believe Robin for a moment. That there might not be anything left for him to see. 

But, of course. things can’t be that easy.

The second you step out of the backroom, Steve’s eyes lock onto you. He’s standing just inside, breathing hard under a yellow crewneck, hair raked through. 

You risk a glance over at Robin. She’s leaned back on the counter, a smirk tugging on her mouth. What’s she so happy about? 

“We’ve done a lot of shit to each other over the years,” Steve says, drawing your eyes back to him. “and I get that. But this? This is too far.”

Guilt spears through your gut. You did this to him. 

“I know, I know it’s your car,” you mumble, eyes dropping to your shoes. “But I missed my test and I was angry and—” a sudden thought occurs to you. “Oh, God, please tell me the paint washes off!”

Steve squints down at you, hands on his hips. “Yes, it washes off,” he says, “You think that’s not the first thing I checked?” His eyes soften a little as he finally processes your words. “Wait—you missed your test?”

Oh. Well, then, it must be the message itself that has him so worked up. That, you can deal with.

“Then why are you so mad?” You ask, crossing your arms. “So you can’t go on a date for one day. Big deal. Can’t go to the drive-in movie with a car looking like that? Prank accomplished.”

“What?” His lips curl in confusion. 

You frown and look to Robin. When your eyes meet she gives a small shrug, and with how much she looks like she’s enjoying this, you half expect her to pull out popcorn. 

“Outside,” Steve barks. “Now.”

The glass door slams behind you as you step out into the parking lot. The afternoon sun has heated the still-wet asphalt, making ripples across the ground. 

Steve crosses his arms beside you, gesturing for you to look. His Beamer is parked in the closest space, giving you a clear view of…what the—

Looks like Robin was right about the rain. It’s smeared your message into streaks, leaving only white fragments and a few choppy words behind. 

ATTENTION, it reads. The next word, ‘ladies’, is gone. STEVE is clear as day, and the rain has taken the word ‘terrible’, leaving just the I. Followed by a pristine LOVE YOU. And conveniently, the words, WANT TO KISS, made the cut as well. 

Your jaw drops. 

Pulse racing, you scramble for something to say. Anything. “T-that’s…H-how do you know I evenwrote that?” 

“That’s still your name, isn’t it?” Steve says, pointing above the wheel rim. There it is, your name, perfectly preserved down to the little heart next to it.

Wow.

Mother Nature is a bitch. 

You stand there, mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water. A shadow falls over you, cooling your skin. Suddenly, your vision fills with warm chocolate eyes, and sunlight splicing through messy hair. 

“You don’t mean it. Right?” Steve asks, voice achingly soft. “Because…that’s— I need to hear you say it. Or…”

Your breath hitches. “Or what?” 

His hand finds your waist, the warmth bleeding through the fabric of your vest. That one touch nearly sets you aflame. 

“God—just say April fools right now before I do something that’s gonna make me look like one,” he murmurs, gaze dropping to your lips. 

You should say it. Or tell him the truth. But as he stands there holding you in his arms, sun-warmed, smelling like mints and hairspray, you just…can’t. 

When his nose bumps yours, your heart nearly beats out of your chest. Your chin tilts to meet him, but he stops just shy. 

“Are you sure?” he whispers. “Because if this is just some prank—”

You don’t let him finish. Grabbing a fistful of his hair, you drag him down the last inch and meet his mouth with yours. 

A low groan spills from his chest as he pulls you into him, hands slipping under your vest like he can’t get close enough. His lips are soft and warm, and you sink into this kiss, threading his soft hair between your fingers. 

Your lips meet and part in a pattern so familiar, yet so new. Your head spins at the heat of his hands, the minty sweet taste of his tongue, and most of all, the fact that this Steve—your Steve. 

Dustin’s going to kill you. Both of you. 

You don’t even register you’re moving until your back hits the car. Steve’s lips don’t leave yours, the kiss growing eager and desperate. 

A bell chimes above the door. Footsteps echo somewhere in the parking lot.

You don’t open your eyes. You can’t. 

Steve is a fantastic kisser. You expected that, given his platinum playboy status, but experiencing his skill is another thing entirely. His hand slides up to cup your jaw, tilting your face as he kisses you deeper, slower. The scorching glide of his tongue against yours makes your knees go weak. As his thumb brushes down your throat, a soft sound slips out, like he drew it out himself. Like he just played your body like an instrument. 

Damn.

Steve pulls back and rests his forehead against yours, a quiet laugh stuck in his chest. 

“I love you, too,” he whispers. “Have for a long time, I just thought…well, I thought you didn’t want me like that, and—”

Your heart soars at his confession, but words won’t come to you right now. They’re plastered across his car instead. He’s breathing hard under your palms, and you can’t do anything but close the gap between your lips again, needing him to know you feel the same. 

The bell chimes again, and someone clears their throat loudly. 

You break apart and spin to see Robin leaning out the door. The AC spills past her, cooling your flushed cheeks. She’s holding your navy backpack out to you. 

“Oh shit!” You smack your forehead. “I’ve got to get to my test!”

“I’ll drive you!” Steve offers instantly. 

“No, but you have to work!” 

“Guys,” Robin interrupts, “I’ve got it. It’s dead in here today. Go.” 

“I owe you, Buckley,” Steve says, pointing his car keys at her as he jogs over to the driver’s side door. 

You swipe the backpack from her and turn to leave, but she pinches your vest, a silent reminder you still have it on.

 “No, seriously, you’re an angel,” you add, shrugging off your vest and placing it in her outstretched palm. 

“Yeah, well, someone’s got to attend to the customers. Am I right?” She winks before disappearing back in the store. 

Steve looks so good sitting next to you in the driver’s seat, hair falling over his brow as he turns the ignition. He has to actually remind you to put on your seatbelt when he catches you staring. 

He pulls off onto the main road, one hand flung over the wheel. 

How are you actually expected to focus on anything right now? Let alone taking a test in twenty minutes? 

Because one look at those eyes falling down to your lips, his knuckles brushing across his mouth like he can’t get the taste of you out of his head. The way your hands find each other over the console, leaning towards each other like some unseen manger is pulling you together. 

Steve clears his throat, a smile tugging at his mouth. “You got plans after this?” 

“Actually, yeah I do.”

His face falls but he recovers quickly. “Okay, yeah! Sorry. Last minute—“

“It’s just that I’ve got to wash this guy’s car…”

He grins, and your heart flutters at the sight. “Damn right you do. And what about after that?”

“Depends,” you bite your lip. “What are you suggesting?”

He shrugs one shoulder, the very picture of confidence, even if you see the way his fingers drum the steering wheel. “What was it you were saying about drive-in movies earlier?”

You smile. “Just that… I love ‘em.”

“And that’s curtain, ladies and gents.” Robin mutters to herself, closing the glass door as she watches the two of you speed off. The dust motes floating through the sunbeams are her only audience as she takes a bow. 

“Roses? For me? You shouldn’t have.” She flicks her hand, waving off imaginary applause as she tucks her bucket of soapy water and sponge into the backroom. 

Robin doesn’t do early mornings. But today, she made an exception. 

There she was at sunrise, crouched beside the Beamer, scrubbing off very specific words the rain barely touched the night before. 

Because this whole bit—where the two of you pretend not to be in love—was just going on a bit too long for her taste.

ᥫ᭡

a/n: robin is a real one. idk man, holidays just inspire me lol so here you go.

steve masterlist

You and Steve Harrington have been trying to keep your relationship secret. But it turns out, Lucas Sinclair can't keep his mouth shut.

pairing: steve harrington x henderson!reader words: 2.7k contains: fluff, establish relationship, secret relationship, pet names (baby), female reader, no use of y/n, she/her pronouns for reader.

author's note: request by @softstaticclub | this was yet another one that was meant to be a blurb but i wrote too much. i think i have a problem

taglist | masterlist | 3k special masterlist | requests page

“Steve, what if someone comes down the—”

“—shh. Be quiet, baby,” Steve murmurs before pressing his lips to yours and smiling when he feels you melt into him.

There was a very small part of you that wanted to roll your eyes but you were too busy kissing him back to think of much else.

For the past three months, you and Steve Harrington had been sneaking around like a pair of lovesick teenagers after years of unspoken feelings between the two of you. The reason for sneaking around wasn’t because you or Steve didn’t want to tell people about your relationship, it was more to do with the fact that Steve had made a promise to your brother a few years ago that he would stay away from you. Dustin hadn’t wanted his best friend and his sister to be involved with each other and Steve had only agreed because he thought that he never stood a chance with you.

Of course, that promise was shattered that night in the back of the SQWK van when you had finally had enough of the back and forth between you and Steve and you had kissed him until you both ran out of air.

You hadn’t initially set out to hide your relationship, it just happened as you both agreed to wait until you figured out a way to tell Dustin. But it was difficult to navigate when Dustin was in throes of grief from losing Eddie almost six months ago now. He had grown a little distant from Steve, purposefully trying to push him away and you had a feeling that Dustin learning that Steve had been secretly seeing his older sister for the past three months might drive even more of a wedge between them.

And so, you were sneaking around for the time being and you couldn’t deny it was a little bit fun to do so.

♡ gold rush ♡

pairing: steve harrington x fem henderson reader

summary: no matter how much you loved steve, he had too many eyes on him to ever notice yours. so what happens when someone finally makes a move?

word count: 4.4k

warnings/tags: (mutual) pining, insecure reader, making out, dustin cameo, female OC, family video steve, jealous reader, petnames galore, NO use of y/n

a/n: hiiiiii!!! this is my first ever fic on here! i couldn't stop listening to gold rush by taylor swift the other day, and i knew someone needed to make a fic about him to it. i really hope you all enjoy ! <3

Being in love with Steve Harrington was a double-edged sword.

One edge was the thrill.

The excitement that came with seeing his smile directed your way. The uncontrollable flutter in your stomach. The flush in your cheeks when the light fell on him just right—his hair falling effortlessly. His eyes that called to you, twinkling like ripples in the ocean.

But the other edge was a razor-thin tightrope.

A thousand papercuts coinciding with seeing girls practically line themselves at his door. The burning in your chest that came with his history. The blade against your throat when his eyes fell on Nancy.

No amount of armor protected you from the way he smiled at her. That smile that you daydreamed was meant for you. The enticing gleam in his eyes that you longed to jump into.

But he wasn't yours.

SteveHarrington x Henderson!reader.

Summary: from the moment Steve Harrington laid his eyes on you, he knew you were destined to be together. After years of trying to prevent the inevitable, you both got your happy ending.

Warnings: mentions of death, slow burn, angst.

WC: 3.6k

—౨ৎ—

The first time he saw you

Steve Harrington will never forget the day he first met you, and neither would you. the knock at the door is firm but awkward, like whoever's on the other side isn't totally sure how hard they're supposed to knock.

You pause your step mid-hallway, glance toward Dustin's room, then sigh. "Dustin," you call. "Someone's here."

No answer.

Of course.

You open the door instead.

And immediately wish you'd brushed your hair.

A boy stands on the porch, tall, confident in that effortless way, brown hair swept back like it knows it looks good. You know Steve Harrington, hell, every girl in Hawkins knows Steve Harrington. His eyes flick up the second the door opens, and for just a moment, he freezes.

You're in pajamas. Nothing fancy just a pair of shorts and a little oversized band tee. Your hair's pulled into a messy ponytail that slipped halfway loose. you're barefoot, one hand resting lightly on the doorframe.

Steve Harrington swallows.

Then, like a switch flips, he smiles. easy, charming, like he hasn't just short-circuited.

"Hey," he says. "Uh... is Dustin home?"

You smile back, polite and warm. "He is. I can get him."

Before you can turn, hurried footsteps thunder down the hallway.

"No—no, no—you don't have to—"

Dustin appears beside you, eyes widening the second he sees who's standing there.

"Oh my god," he groans. "Why didn't you yell louder?"

You glance at him. "I did. You ignored me."

Steve chuckles quietly, watching the exchange. "You must be the sister."

You nod. "Guilty."

Dustin immediately scowls. "Don't talk to her."

Steve raises an eyebrow. "I said 'hi.'"

"That's how it starts."

You hide a smile, nudging Dustin lightly with your elbow.

Steve laughs. "I'm Steve."

"I know who you are" you reply.

Dustin sighs like this is the worst day of his life. "Can we just go? Please?"

Steve nods, stepping back from the door. "Yeah. Sorry to interrupt."

You smile again, genuinely this time. "Nice meeting you, Steve."

"Nice meeting you too," he says, holding your gaze just a second longer before turning away.

Dustin ushers him down the porch steps like he's escorting a threat.

The door closes behind them.

They're halfway down the driveway when Dustin finally exhales.

"Do not," he warns, pointing a finger at Steve, "say it."

Steve hums, hands in his jacket pockets, eyes forward.

"I just didn't realize you had—"

"STEVE," Dustin snaps.

"—such a hot sister."

Dustin stops dead.

"You are dead," he says flatly. Steve only grins, walking on ahead.

Worth it.

Now, Steve was very aware he had much bigger fish to fry, but for some reason, he couldn't seem to stop thinking about you. The train tracks stretch out in front of them, rusty rails cutting through the trees like they always have. Steve's boots crunch against loose gravel as he walks, yellow gloves pulled tight over his hands, one bucket swinging lazily at his side. Dustin's doing most of the talking, rambling about traps and theories and how this time they're definitely prepared.

Steve's only half-listening.

He glances sideways at Dustin, smirks to himself, and then, the intrusive thought wins.

"Sooo...," Steve starts casually, eyes forward. "Your sister."

Dustin stops walking so abruptly the bucket slams into his knee.

"Nope" he screeches. "Absolutely not"

Steve keeps walking for a second before realizing Dustin isn't beside him anymore. He turns, grinning. "What? I'm just saying."

"That's my sister, dude!"

Steve shrugs, completely unbothered. "Yeah. And?"

Dustin hurries to catch up, face twisted in pure disgust. "You can't just say that! About her!"

Steve hums thoughtfully, like he's considering Dustin's argument. "Pretty sure I just did."

Dustin gags, dramatically. "I'm gonna throw up. I'm actually gonna throw up."

Steve laughs, a sharp, bright sound that echoes down the tracks. "Relax, Henderson. It's a compliment."

"To who?" Dustin demands. "Her? Or me? Because I don't feel complimented."

Steve bumps Dustin lightly with his shoulder. "Hey, man, you should be proud. Good genes."

"That is not how genetics work!"

Steve grins wider, clearly enjoying this way too much. "I mean, come on. She's smart, nice to everyone, helps at the school events, doesn't treat people like garbage—"

"Stop listing things!" Dustin snaps. "Why do you know so much about her?!"

Steve pauses. "Hawkins is... small?"

Dustin squints at him. "You're being weird."

"Uh, i'm being honest," Steve says. "There's a difference."

Dustin groans loudly, dragging a hand down his face. "I trusted you."

Steve chuckles. "Yeah, well. That was your first mistake."

They keep walking, the tracks humming softly under their feet. After a beat, Steve adds, way too casually:

"Im just saying man if she ever asked me out, I'd say yes."

Dustin screams.

"ABSOLUTELY NOT."

Steve laughs so hard he nearly drops his bucket. "Chill man, I'm messing with you." He's not.

"You're dead," Dustin says flatly. "If you even look at her, you're dead."

Steve lifts his gloved hands in mock surrender, still smiling. "Okay, okay. Relax. I'll just admire from a respectful distance."

Dustin mutters, "I hate you."

Steve smirks. "Yeah yeah. Everybody does."

He was getting you. That was a fact.

The snowball

The first time something shift between you and Steve was the night the car smells faintly like hairspray and winter air.

Steve grips the steering wheel a little tighter than usual, eyes flicking between the road and the rearview mirror where Dustin sits, stiff and overdressed, tux jacket swallowing his shoulders.

And then there's you.

You're in the back seat behind Dustin, knees tucked slightly to the side, curls spilling over your shoulders in big, effortless waves. You didn't overdo it, you never do, but somehow it's perfect anyway. Steve tries not to stare...and fails.

"Okay," you say gently, breaking the silence. "First of all—"

Dustin groans. "another pep talk??"

"you look handsome" you finish, smiling at him. "Like, genuinely. Very distinguished."

Steve nods along immediately. "Yeah, man. Total heartbreaker."

Dustin scoffs. "You're both lying."

"I am not," you insist. "You clean up nice. Whoever the lucky lady is, she's real lucky."

Dustin shifts in his seat, fingers fidgeting with his cuffs. "She's not gonna dance with me."

Steve finally looks back at him properly. "Hey," he says, voice steady. "You showed up. That already takes guts."

You lean forward slightly. "And if she doesn't? Then it's her loss. But I think she will."

Dustin looks between the two of you, clearly trying not to smile. "You really think so?"

Steve nods. "Yeah. I do."

The school comes into view, lights glowing warm against the dark. Music hums faintly through the walls, laughter spilling out every time the doors open.

Steve pulls to the curb and puts the car in park.

Dustin hesitates, hand hovering over the door handle.

You reach out, squeezing his arm. "Hey. Go get em tiger."

Steve adds, softer now, "You got this, Henderson."

Dustin exhales, then nods. "Okay. Okay. Yeah."

He hops out, shuts the door, and jogs toward the entrance without looking back.

The car goes quiet.

Steve watches him disappear inside before glancing at the empty back seat in the mirror & then at you.

"You don't have to sit back there," he says, casual but hopeful.

You don't tease him. You don't make a joke.

You just smile and reach for the door.

The front seat feels warmer when you slide into it, closer than you've ever been. Your knee brushes his, just barely. Steve swallows.

For a moment, neither of you speak.

"You look..." he starts, then stops, rubbing the back of his neck. "You look really nice."

You meet his eyes. "So do you."

He laughs quietly. "That's new."

"No," you say gently. "You always looked nice. Just figure you hear it enough"

He doesn't say anything. Nobody else matters. Only you. The car went silent. Steve's eyes drift back to the school.

The gym windows glow warm against the dark. His gaze lingers longer than it should.

You follow it.

You see her.

Nancy Wheeler, laughing with the others near the edge of the floor and something in your chest tightens.

You look back down at your hands in your lap, fingers twisting together once before you still them.

"You should tell her," you say quietly.

Steve blinks, turning toward you. "Tell who?"

You nod toward the gym. "Nancy."

He exhales, understanding dawning. "It's not like that anymore."

You don't look at him. "It used to be."

"Yeah," he admits. "It did."

He leans back against the seat, eyes forward now. "She's my friend. I care about her." He hesitates, then adds, softer, "But I think I know what love feels like now."

That makes you glance up.

Steve doesn't meet your eyes.

"And it was never like that with her."

The words settle between you, heavy and fragile.

You nod once, swallowing, unsure what to say. So you don't say anything at all.

Neither does he.

The car stays quiet, the music from the gym muffled through glass and distance, snow falling slow around you.

But Steve's hand shifts—just slightly—until it rests near yours.

And this time, he doesn't look back at the window.

Steve looks down at his hands, then back up at you. "I'm glad you came tonight."

"Me too," you reply. "I wouldn't miss this."

There's something unspoken between you, everything that didn't happen sooner, everything that almost did, the world narrowed down to this car, this moment.

Steve finally exhales. "Look. I don't know what this is," he admits. "But I know I don't wanna mess it up so-."

You smile, warm and sincere. "-Then don't."

He nods, like that's enough.

Like you're enough.

Inside, the music swells louder. Somewhere in that gym, Dustin is finding his courage. Out here, Steve finds his.

And for the first time, neither of you rushes away from it.

Scoops ahoy

The summer Steve and Robin got a job together, you started seeing a lot more of Steve. Robin is the first person to notice you as you walk into the shop. 

Her face lights up instantly. "You made it, and during rush too."

You grin. "Barely. Your uniforms still ridiculous?"

"The hat is a crime," she says, deadpan, sliding closer to the counter. "But at least it comes with free ice cream."

Steve straightens beside her, already watching you like the rest of the world decided to quiet down. Sailor uniform, sleeves rolled up, stupidly charming smile he doesn't even try to hide.

"Hey," he says, softer than he uses with anyone else.

Your friend clocks it immediately.

Like, immediately.

Dustin pops up from behind the counter, scowl already locked in place. "No. Nope. Absolutely not."

You laugh. "Hi to you too, Dustin."

Steve leans forward. "What can I get you?"

Robin raises an eyebrow. "You know, for a guy who once ruled Hawkins High, you're awfully polite when she's around." She says it quiet. But not quiet enough that you can't hear her

Steve doesn't even look at her. "Mint chocolate chip."

You blink. "You remembered."

He shrugs, a little bashful. "Yeah."

Your friends shifts beside you, arms crossing. They're smiling, but tight, the kind that comes from watching King Steve focus on someone who aren't them.

Robin notices.

"Oh," she says slowly, glancing between you and Steve. "Ohhh."

Dustin slams a scoop down. "No. Off limits. She's my sister."

Robin smirks. "Relax, Henderson. She's the one with the power here."

Steve hands you your cone, fingers brushing yours for half a second. It's light, accidental but his hand lingers just long enough to say something neither of you ever did out loud the night of the Snow Ball.

Your friend watches, eyes narrowing.

"So," one of them says sweetly, "you two close?"

You shake your head, quick. "We're friends."

Robin snorts. "That's generous."

Steve clears his throat. "We are."

Dustin points at him. "Hey! Don't encourage this."

You turn to Robin, smiling. "You surviving the summer?"

She brightens instantly. "Barely. But seeing you makes it a tad more bearable"

Steve glances at Robin. "You like her."

Robin grins. "Everyone likes her. You just... like-like her."

Steve groans. "Robin."

Your friend lets out a quiet, incredulous laugh. "Wow."

"What?" you ask.

She shakes her head. "Nothing. Just—any girl in Hawkins would kill for that kind of attention."

Steve looks embarrassed now, ears pink. "I'm not—"

"Steve," Robin interrupts, gently. "You are."

Dustin folds his arms. "Off. Limits."

You smile softly at all of them, pretending your heart isn't doing something ridiculous.

When you leave, Robin calls after you, "Come back soon, okay?"

You wave. "Always."

Steve watches you go, eyes lingering like he's memorizing the way you move.

Your friend nudges you once you're out of sight. "You're telling me there's nothing there?"

You hesitate. Just a second too long.

"I don't know," you admit quietly.

Behind the counter, Robin smirks.

Steve doesn't deny it.

Everyone knows. Because when King Steve looks at you like that, it's impossible not to.

The end of the Hawkins

That’s what it felt like anyway. The eery end. The field is quiet in the wrong way. Not peaceful, tense. Like the world itself knows what's coming and is bracing for impact.

The campervan's parked on the grass, doors flung open, everyone moving with purpose. Nancy and max check the shotgun again. Lucas tightens the straps on his gear while him and Erica argue about something sharp and dangerous. Eddie and dustin are running about, having a better time than the rest of you. Steve looks oddly jealous about that.

You're sitting on the ground beside Steve.

Between your knees is a glass bottle. Between his hands is a funnel. Gasoline sloshes softly as you pour, the smell sharp and grounding. You focus on keeping your hands steady.

Steve's shoulder brushes yours. Neither of you moves away.

You've been like this all night close but careful, circling something neither of you dared name while the stakes kept climbing higher. Every glance lasts too long. Every touch lingers like it might be the last.

Robin, Nancy, and Eddie are now drifting ahead, their voices overlapping as they talk strategy. Laughter breaks out, nervousness.

You and Steve fall a few paces behind.

The bottle fills. You stop pouring.

Steve caps it, sets it carefully aside but doesn't reach for another. Instead, he stares at the ground for a second too long.

"Hey," you say quietly. "Are you good?"

He exhales through his nose, like he's been holding his breath for a hot minute.

"Can you promise me something?" The words come out of nowhere. No joke. No grin. Just Steve being bare and honest. Your scared.

You turn to him fully now. "What?"

He swallows. You see it this time. "If we make it out of this," he says slowly, "you gotta let me take you out."

Your heart stutters. Steve finally looks at you. Not the confident babysitter. Not King Steve. Just a guy who's been through too much and might not get another chance.

"And not as a maybe," he adds. "Not as a 'we'll see.' A real date. Dinner. Something normal. I just-" he stops. He sounds choked up. "I just need to know I didn't imagine all of this."

You search his face. The way his eyes flick over yours like he's memorizing you. Like he's afraid this moment might be the last quiet one you get.

"Steve," you whisper.

He rushes on, words tumbling now. "I know it's a terrible time to say this. Believe me, I know. But I've almost died, like, a lot, and every time I think—" His voice cracks. He clears his throat. "Every time I think about what I'd regret not saying, it's you."

The noise of the others fades. The field narrows to just this space between you. You reach for his hand before you even realize you're doing it. His fingers tighten instantly around yours.

"You didn't imagine it," you say softly. "None of it."

He lets out a shaky laugh. "Yeah?"

"Yeah." You squeeze his hand. "And if we make it out of here... I'd like that. I'd like it a lot."

Steve's shoulders sag with relief, like something heavy finally loosened its grip.

"Okay," he says quietly. "Okay. Good...cool...cool" he try's to play it off. You're not buying it.

He hesitates, then adds, just as honest, "I'm scared."

"I know," you reply. "Me too."

He turns his hand so your fingers lace properly this time. Solid. Real.

"But we're still here," he says.

"And we're not done yet," you answer.

Ahead of you, Dustin calls Steve's name. Robin glances back, eyes sharp, catching the way your hands are joined. She smiles, small but knowing. She turns away without saying a word.

Steve gives your hand one last squeeze before letting go.

"Promise," he says.

You nod. "Promise."

The promise

You both kept your promises. They're still here. But not all of them.

That truth sits heavy in the spaces between conversations, in the empty chair no one touches, in the way Eddie's name is spoken softer than the others.

But you and Steve survived.

And Steve keeps his word. He knocks at exactly seven. Not 7:03, Not seven-ish. Seven sharp.

You hear it from your room and your heart stutters anyway.

When you open the door, Steve is standing there like he stepped out of a dream he barely let himself believe in. He's dressed neatly, nothing flashy, just clean lines, careful choices. His hair is perfect in that unfair way of his, and in his hands?Flowers.

A full bouquet. Thoughtful. Beautiful. Chosen with care, and for a second, he forgets how to breathe.

Because you always look beautiful to him. Always have, but tonight? Tonight you're something else entirely. Soft and radiant and real, like the world finally gave him something good and didn't snatch it away. His chest tightens.

"Hi," he says, voice quiet but steady.

"Hi," you reply, smiling like you've been waiting for this moment your whole life.

Behind you, Dustin clears his throat loudly.

Steve straightens instantly.

Dustin steps forward, hands on his hips. "Okay. Rules."

Steve nods seriously. "Absolutely."

"You treat her like a lady."

"Always."

"You hurt her, that means emotionally or otherwise, I will end you."

Steve doesn't even blink. "Fair."

"And she's home by eleven."

You groan. "Dustin—"

"I said eleven," Dustin insists.

Steve glances at you, then back at Dustin. "Eleven. I promise."

Dustin studies him for a long second, then sighs. "Okay." He steps aside. "Have fun."

Steve offers you his arm. You take it without hesitation.

The restaurant is small and warm, candles flickering softly on every table. Live music hums gently in the background, something slow and tender, like the night itself is rooting for you.

Steve pulls out your chair. Your fingers brush when he hands you the menu. Neither of you rush to pull away.

"I can't believe we're actually here," he admits quietly.

You smile. "Me neither."

Dinner is easy. Laughter comes naturally. You talk about nothing and everything, memories, plans, the quiet future neither of you dared imagine until now. The grief is still there, sitting with you, but it doesn't own the night.

At one point, Steve reaches across the table, thumb brushing your knuckles.

"I thought I lost my chance," he says softly. "So many times."

You squeeze his hand. "You didn't."

He looks at you like he's memorizing the moment. "I love you," he says. No fear. No hesitation.

Your eyes shine. "I love you too."

And it feels... normal. Just two teenagers, in love.

After monsters and fear and loss, it feels extraordinary just to be two people in love, sharing a meal, holding hands under candlelight.

And at 10:58pm, Steve walks you back to your door.

He laughs softly. "I promised."

You lean in, pressing a kiss to his cheek, slow, sure, real. "Thank you for keeping your word."

He rests his forehead against yours. "I always will." As he walks away, Steve knows something deep in his bones.

Home sweet home

And that brings you to today. The house is small. The paint's still a little uneven where Steve insisted he could "totally do it himself," and the porch light flickers sometimes but it's yours.

You're still in Hawkins but this time on your own terms.

Steve drops his keys in the bowl by the door, toeing off his shoes with a satisfied sigh. The sun's setting slow outside the kitchen window, turning everything gold.

"Practice went good today," he says, shrugging off his jacket. "No broken bones. So I guess that's a win."

You smile from where you're rinsing dishes. "You're a natural, Coach Harrington."

He laughs, a little bashful. He places a soft kiss on your forehead.

Life is... sweet.

Too sweet sometimes, in that way that makes you pause just to feel it.

Steve leans against the counter, watching you. The quiet hum of the fridge fills the space between you. You catch him staring.

"What?" you ask softly.

"Nothing," he says. Then, more honest, "Everything."

Your heart does that thing it's been doing ever since the world stopped ending.

Steve shifts his weight. In his back pocket, there's a small brown box. He's checked it three times today. Still there. Still real.

He's too scared to leave it in the house in case you find it. So the ring has come everywhere with him, to work, to the grocery store, to every single function he's attended the past month.

He's been waiting, and not waiting for perfection, not for fireworks. Just a moment that feels like yours. A moment that feels safe.

You dry your hands and turn to him. "You're awfully quiet."

He smiles, that familiar gentle curve of his mouth that only you ever seem to get anymore. "Just thinking."

You step closer, resting your forehead against his chest. His arms come around you automatically, like muscle memory.

You don't see the way his hand tightens slightly behind your back.

You don't see the way his heart pounds.

Dustin's voice echoes in his head from weeks ago, half serious, half grinning:

If you don't marry her, I will never forgive you. Oh and yeah. You've got my blessing. Steve had laughed. Then swallowed hard.

Now, holding you in the quiet of your shared kitchen, he knows.

Not yet.

But soon.

pairing: Steve Harrington x femhenderson!reader

summary: You had managed to put all your bad high school years behind you, you had finally banished that perfect hair from your memory. But all those memories you had buried deep in your mind resurface when you discover that your younger brother is his best friend. Now you're trying to keep the fear at bay while Steve works hard to make you see that he's changed.

warnings: enemies to lovers, 'she fell first, he fell harder', allusions to unrequited love, mentions of bullying.

⋆𐙚 ̊.

prologue: It takes strength to forgive, but I don't feel strong

chapter one: Don't you think I loved you too much to think I deserve nothing?

chapter two: Tired of building up my walls, just to watch them fall again

chapter three: Took everything I loved and crushed it in between your finger

chapter four: Everywhere I go leads me back to you

℘1⋆˚࿔ m.list⋆˚࿔ steveharrington x henderson!reader

Steve spends the rest of the drive pretending he’s listening while Dustin talks, but every thought in his head keeps circling back to you in ways that are becoming genuinely impossible to control. It’s pathetic, honestly. He knows it is. He’s twenty years old and acting like a lovesick idiot over a girl who still has absolutely no idea she’s slowly destroying him from the inside out.

The worst part is that you’d probably laugh if you knew.

Not cruelly. Never cruelly.

You’d just blink at him with that surprised little expression you get sometimes and go, “Steve Harrington is in love with me?” like the concept itself sounds unrealistic.

And maybe that’s his fault.

Because Steve has spent so long making everything feel easy around you that you never noticed when it stopped being casual for him.

You still think his constant touching means nothing because Steve touches everybody.

You still think the flirting is harmless because Steve flirts with everyone.

You still think the long looks and soft voices and late night window visits are just part of who he is instead of what he’s become around you specifically.

Meanwhile Steve feels like he’s standing chest deep in something he can’t survive anymore.

By the time he drops Dustin off at school, his mood has somehow gotten worse instead of better.

“Are you coming over later?” Dustin asks before getting out of the car.

Steve opens his mouth automatically to say yes before stopping himself.

Because you’ll probably be there.

Which is exactly the problem.

“Maybe,” he mutters instead.

Dustin narrows his eyes immediately. “You literally always come over.”

“Yeah, well.” Steve shrugs tightly. “Maybe I have a life.”

“That’s definitely not true.”

Normally Steve would argue back. Today he just flips Dustin off tiredly while the kid laughs and slams the door shut behind him.

Then Steve sits there in the school parking lot for another full minute staring blankly ahead because the idea of seeing you right now feels dangerously overwhelming.

Which is ridiculous.

You’re still just you.

Still the same girl who steals fries off his plate and falls asleep against his shoulder and calls him pretty boy sarcastically whenever he’s annoying you.

Nothing has actually changed.

Except now Steve knows he’s in love with you, and suddenly every interaction feels loaded with terrifying new meaning.

He tries avoiding you for exactly one day.

It goes horribly.

By noon he’s already wondering what you’re doing.

By three he catches himself driving toward your street out of pure instinct before swearing under his breath and turning around again.

By evening he’s sitting beside Robin at Family Video looking so miserable that she eventually tosses a pack of Twizzlers at his head without even glancing up from rewinding tapes.

“You’re being weird,” she says flatly.

Steve catches the candy automatically. “Thanks.”

“You’ve sighed seventeen times in the last ten minutes.”

“You counted?”

“I was trying to figure out if you were dying.”

Steve groans softly and drops his head back against the counter while Robin finally looks over at him properly.

And immediately pauses.

Because Robin knows Steve better than almost anybody now.

Knows the difference between his normal dramatic behavior and something real.

Her expression shifts slightly.

“Oh my God,” she says slowly.

Steve closes his eyes immediately.

“No.”

“Oh my God,” Robin repeats louder this time, sounding delighted. “You’re in love with her.”

Steve nearly chokes.

“I am not—”

“You are absolutely in love with her.”

“I’m literally not.”

“You look one inconvenience away from throwing yourself into traffic.”

Steve presses both hands over his face while Robin stares at him with growing disbelief and amusement.

“This is insane,” she says. “Steve Harrington finally falls in love and suddenly acts like a Victorian widow.”

“I hate you.”

“No you don’t.” Robin grins. “Wait—does she know?”

Steve laughs once.

A genuinely miserable sound.

“No.”

Robin’s smile fades slightly at that.

“Oh.”

“Yeah.”

For a second neither of them speaks.

The fluorescent lights buzz softly overhead while customers wander through aisles nearby, completely oblivious to the emotional crisis currently happening behind the counter.

Then Robin squints at him.

“Why not?”

Steve lowers his hands slowly.

And there it is.

The real problem.

Because how is he supposed to explain this without sounding insane?

How is he supposed to admit that somewhere between late night conversations and stupid movie marathons and hearing you laugh from another room, he accidentally built an entire future around you inside his head without permission?

How is he supposed to explain that losing your friendship feels terrifying enough already, let alone risking something bigger?

“She doesn’t look at me like that,” he says quietly after a long moment.

Robin blinks.

“What?”

Steve swallows hard before looking away.

“You know how some people…” He struggles briefly for the words. “You can tell when they want somebody back?”

Robin stays quiet.

Steve laughs softly again, though there’s no humor in it this time.

“She doesn’t.”

And maybe that’s the part hurting him most.

Because you love him. Steve knows you do.

Just not in the way he wants.

You trust him.

Need him.

Lean into him without hesitation.

Call him whenever something goes wrong.

Look for him first in crowded rooms the same way he looks for you.

But Steve has spent months convincing himself those things meant more than they actually do, and now he doesn’t know how to untangle friendship from hope anymore.

Robin studies him carefully for a second before asking, “Did something happen?”

Immediately Steve thinks about your neck.

About bruises beneath soft yellow bedroom light.

About another guy touching you while Steve sat there pretending his chest wasn’t actively splitting open.

His jaw tightens slightly.

Robin notices that too because of course she does.

“Oh,” she says again, quieter this time. “That serious, huh?”

Steve rubs tiredly at his face.

“I think I’m actually losing my mind.”

Robin softens a little then.

Not teasing anymore.

“You know,” she says carefully, “for someone supposedly good with girls, you are catastrophically bad at communicating.”

Steve scoffs weakly. “Thanks.”

“I’m serious.” She leans against the counter beside him. “You’ve been acting like her boyfriend without ever actually telling her how you feel. That’s confusing.”

Steve frowns slightly.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

Robin gives him a look.

“You drive her everywhere. You stare at her like she invented oxygen. You literally climb through her bedroom window at night.”

“When you say it out loud it sounds—”

“Insane? Yeah.”

Steve drops his head onto the counter with a groan.

The worst part is she isn’t wrong.

Because somewhere along the line he got comfortable living in the almost of this.

Comfortable with your head on his shoulder.

Comfortable with your fingers absentmindedly hooking through the sleeve of his jacket.

Comfortable being the person you call first.

And now the idea of wanting more feels selfish somehow.

Dangerous.

“What if I ruin it?” he asks quietly.

Robin’s expression softens immediately because Steve almost never sounds genuinely afraid like this.

“You won’t.”

“You don’t know that.”

“No,” she admits. “But I know you. And honestly? I think you’ve been ruining yourself over this girl for months already.”

Steve laughs weakly into the counter.

“Cool. Awesome.”

Robin nudges his shoulder lightly.

“Just talk to her.”

Steve lifts his head enough to look at her.

“That sounds terrible.”

“It probably will be,” Robin agrees. “But you can’t keep silently yearning yourself into an early grave either.”

Steve snorts despite himself.

Then immediately stills because the bell above the store door jingles softly.

And there you are.

Warm evening sunlight spills through the glass behind you while you step into the store wearing one of those oversized sweaters Steve likes too much and an expression that brightens instantly the second your eyes find him behind the counter.

There’s no hesitation in it.

No uncertainty.

Just immediate softness.

“Hi,” you say.

And Steve’s entire heart betrays him on the spot.

Because God.

Robin sees it happen too.

Sees the way his face changes the second you walk in.

Sees the way his posture straightens automatically.

Sees the helpless warmth that floods his expression before he can stop it.

Her eyes widen slightly like even she didn’t realize it was this bad.

You glance between them curiously.

“What?”

“Nothing,” Robin says immediately, looking way too entertained now.

Steve wants to kill her.

You walk toward the counter slowly, setting a videotape down in front of him.

“You disappeared today,” you say casually.

Steve’s chest tightens embarrassingly fast at the fact that you noticed.

“Uh.” He clears his throat. “Busy.”

“You?” You narrow your eyes suspiciously. “Busy?”

Robin physically turns away to hide her smile.

Steve glares at the side of her head before looking back at you.

“Can I help you with something?”

“Wow,” you say flatly. “Rude.”

But you’re smiling slightly.

Always smiling slightly around him.

It’s killing him.

You lean your elbows onto the counter comfortably while Steve tries not to focus on how close you are standing.

“You missed dinner,” you tell him.

Steve blinks.

“What?”

“My mom made lasagna.” You shrug lightly. “Dustin complained about you abandoning him emotionally.”

Despite himself, Steve laughs softly.

Then your expression shifts just a little as you study him more carefully.

And suddenly your smile fades.

“Wait,” you say slowly. “Are you okay?”

The concern in your voice hits him harder than it should.

Steve opens his mouth.

Nothing comes out.

Because you’re looking at him with genuine worry now, brows pulling together slightly while the entire video store seems to blur softly around the edges.

Robin goes very still beside him.

Steve can practically feel her realizing in real time that this conversation is about to become catastrophic.

“Steve?” you ask again, quieter this time.

And God, that’s it.

That’s the thing that finally breaks him a little.

Because every time you say his name with that soft worried look on your face, Steve feels something inside him cave in a little.

Steve opens his mouth again, but before he can force out an answer, you straighten slightly like you suddenly regret asking in the first place.

It’s subtle.

Most people probably wouldn’t notice it.

But Steve notices everything about you now.

The tiny retreat in your posture. The way your expression smooths itself back into something lighter before he can look too closely at it. Like concern is dangerous if it lasts too long.

You do that a lot lately.

Feel something too deeply, then immediately bury it under humor before anyone can touch it.

“I mean,” you say casually, glancing away, “you just look tired.”

Robin looks between both of you like she’s watching a hostage situation unfold in real time.

Steve swallows hard.

“Yeah,” he says finally. “Didn’t sleep much.”

Your eyes flick back toward him for half a second too long.

Something unreadable passes through your expression before disappearing completely.

“That makes two of us.”

And there it is again.

That strange ache sitting quietly beneath everything between you lately.

Steve feels it constantly now. Like there’s another conversation happening underneath every normal one the two of you have. Something unspoken and heavy and terrifying sitting just below the surface where neither of you are brave enough to touch it directly.

Robin suddenly claps her hands together loudly.

“Well,” she says with painful fake enthusiasm, “I’m gonna go reorganize the horror section before I throw myself into traffic.”

Steve glares at her immediately.

You blink in confusion while Robin walks away muttering something about emotional incompetence under her breath.

Then it’s just you and Steve again.

Which somehow feels worse.

You lean against the counter quietly for a second while Steve pretends to focus on rewinding tapes behind the register even though he’s very aware of your eyes still lingering on him.

“You sure you’re okay?” you ask eventually.

Steve exhales softly.

“Yeah.”

You tilt your head slightly.

“Liar.”

The word lands gently between you.

Not teasing.

Not accusing.

Just honest.

And for one dangerous second Steve almost tells you everything.

Almost says I’m in love with you and it’s becoming unbearable.

Instead he just shakes his head once.

“You’re dramatic,” he mutters weakly.

A small smile finally pulls at your mouth again, but it doesn’t fully reach your eyes this time.

Because the truth is you know something’s changed too.

You’ve known for weeks now, maybe longer.

You just haven’t let yourself think about it too hard because thinking about Steve Harrington for too long has become genuinely dangerous for your emotional stability.

It started slowly.

Too slowly to notice at first.

One day he was just Dustin’s annoying older friend constantly invading your house, and the next you were measuring your evenings around whether his car would pull into the driveway.

You started listening for him without realizing it.

Started feeling strangely disappointed on days he didn’t show up.

And then somewhere along the line it became worse.

You started noticing things you shouldn’t.

The way his voice gets quieter when he’s tired.

The way he automatically reaches for your wrist when guiding you through crowds so you don’t get separated.

The way he looks at you when he thinks you aren’t paying attention.

God.

That’s the part that really ruined you.

Because Steve looks at you too much.

Like he’s trying to memorize things without permission.

And sometimes—sometimes—you catch expressions on his face that make your entire chest tighten painfully before he smooths them away again.

Which should mean something.

Except Steve is still Steve.

Beautiful and affectionate and naturally magnetic without even trying.

You’ve seen girls flirt with him your entire life. Seen the way people melt under his attention. Half the time he doesn’t even notice he’s doing it.

So eventually you convinced yourself that whatever was happening between you only felt significant because you wanted it to.

And wanting Steve feels humiliating sometimes.

Not because of him.

Because of you.

Because he’s become this soft vulnerable thing hidden right in the center of your chest, and you don’t know what to do with feelings that deep except hide them before they can embarrass you.

So you date other people instead.

You tell yourself it’s normal.

Healthy, even.

Maybe if you force yourself forward enough, eventually your feelings for Steve will fade into something manageable again.

Except every date keeps ending the same way.

You compare them to him without meaning to.

The way Steve laughs harder at your jokes.

The way conversations with Steve feel effortless while everyone else sounds rehearsed somehow.

The way Steve pays attention to tiny things nobody else notices.

Nobody touches you like it matters the way he does.

Nobody looks at you long enough to make your heart start acting stupid.

And worst of all, no matter who drops you off at home at the end of the night, somehow you still end up wanting Steve afterward anyway.

Which feels deeply unfair.

The hickeys last night were almost accidental.

Not the date itself.

Not the guy.

Just the decision to let someone kiss you while part of your brain kept wondering whether Steve would care.

You hated yourself for that immediately afterward.

Because what kind of person does that?

What kind of person sits through a perfectly decent date secretly thinking about somebody else the entire time?

The answer apparently is you.

And judging by the expression Steve wore in your bedroom last night, part of you thinks maybe he did care.

Which is terrifying.

Because if you let yourself believe that for even a second, you might actually say something reckless.

You might finally ask why Steve touches you like you already belong to him.

You might ask why he stares at you like he’s trying not to.

You might ask why every room feels different after he walks into it.

So instead you hide it.

Better than he does, apparently.

You joke. You flirt back lightly. You pretend your pulse doesn’t jump whenever he leans too close.

And Steve—poor Steve—still somehow thinks he’s the only one drowning here.

“You’re staring again,” you tell him quietly.

Steve blinks immediately like he got caught doing something illegal.

“I’m literally working.”

“You haven’t moved for like thirty seconds.”

His ears turn slightly pink.

It almost makes you smile for real this time.

God, he’s pretty when he gets flustered.

The thought hits hard enough that you immediately look away before your face can betray you.

Dangerous.

This whole thing feels dangerous lately.

Steve clears his throat awkwardly behind the counter.

“So,” he says carefully. “You uh… got plans tonight?”

The question sounds casual.

Too casual.

Like he practiced making it sound casual.

Your stomach twists a little.

“Maybe.”

Steve’s jaw tightens almost invisibly.

“With that guy again?”

There’s the smallest pause.

Too small for most people to notice.

But you notice because suddenly your heartbeat is too loud.

“Maybe,” you repeat softer this time.

Something flickers across his face then.

Gone almost immediately.

But it looks suspiciously like disappointment.

Your chest aches unexpectedly.

Because suddenly you don’t want him imagining you with someone else anymore.

You don’t want anyone else.

You just don’t know what to do about that yet.

Steve forces a small nod like the answer doesn’t bother him at all.

“Cool.”

The lie sits awkwardly between both of you.

After that conversation at Family Video, something between you and Steve changes so quietly at first that neither of you can pinpoint exactly when it started hurting.

Nothing dramatic happens.

No fight.

No line crossed badly enough to destroy things outright.

It’s worse than that somehow.

Because everything still looks normal from the outside.

Steve still comes over to your house after work sometimes, still lets Dustin drag him into arguments about movies and comic books and whatever new obsession the kids picked up that week. He still sits at your kitchen counter while your mom talks to him like he belongs there already, still steals sodas from your fridge without asking, still throws lazy sarcastic comments in your direction whenever you walk into a room.

But now there’s hesitation inside every interaction.

Tiny pauses where there never used to be pauses before.

Like both of you suddenly became too aware of each other.

You notice it immediately because noticing Steve has become second nature to you at this point.

You notice he doesn’t sprawl across your bed during movie nights anymore. Before, he used to make himself comfortable instantly, all long limbs and lazy confidence while he stole space beside you without thinking twice about it. Half the time his head ended up in your lap eventually anyway while he complained dramatically about whatever terrible movie Dustin rented.

Now he sits at the edge of your desk chair instead.

Like he’s afraid of getting too comfortable.

Like he’s physically stopping himself from drifting toward you out of habit.

And somehow that hurts more than if he’d stopped showing up entirely.

You notice he doesn’t touch you casually anymore either.

No more absentminded hands brushing your waist when squeezing past you in the kitchen.

No more fingers hooking around your wrist while crossing streets.

No more knees pressed against yours in the car for entire drives without either of you acknowledging it.

The absence of it becomes unbearable almost immediately because you hadn’t realized how much of Steve existed in physical closeness until he suddenly took it away.

And God.

You miss him.

Not just Steve himself.

You miss the easy version of him.

The version that gravitated toward you naturally without overthinking every movement first.

Now every interaction feels painfully deliberate instead.

Like he’s constantly catching himself right before doing something instinctive.

Like he wants to reach for you and is actively deciding not to.

Which unfortunately only makes you think about it more.

One night he comes over while Dustin’s upstairs showering, leaving just the two of you alone in the living room with the television humming quietly in the background. Steve sits on the opposite end of the couch for the first time in literal months, one arm stretched along the cushions while he pretends to focus on the movie.

You hate it instantly.

The distance between you feels enormous and wrong.

You glance at him twice before finally saying, “You know this couch is big enough to survive you sitting normally, right?”

Steve looks over.

“What?”

“You’re like…” You gesture vaguely between him and the empty space separating you. “All the way over there.”

A slow smile pulls at his mouth, but it looks tired somehow.

“Sorry.”

And that’s it.

No teasing comment afterward.

No smug grin.

Just sorry.

The quietness of it makes your chest ache unexpectedly.

Because Steve Harrington has never been careful with you before.

He used to lean into your space like he belonged there.

Now he acts like touching you accidentally might ruin something.

You start noticing other things too after that.

Steve looks away faster whenever you catch him staring now, even though he still does it constantly.

Sometimes you’ll glance up from a book or from painting your nails or from talking mid sentence and find his eyes already on you with an expression so soft it physically steals the air from your lungs for half a second.

Then he catches himself.

Every single time.

His face closes immediately afterward like he accidentally showed too much.

It drives you insane.

Because now you know something is there.

You just don’t know what.

And Steve still refuses to say it.

Which means your brain starts filling in the blanks on its own in the worst ways possible.

Maybe he realized you liked him and got uncomfortable.

Maybe he noticed things were getting too intense and started pulling away before it became a problem.

Maybe Robin said something.

Maybe you imagined the whole thing from the beginning.

That last possibility crawls under your skin most often late at night when you’re alone with your thoughts and missing him in ways that feel genuinely embarrassing.

Because maybe Steve was always just affectionate naturally.

Maybe you built meaning out of ordinary things because you wanted him too much.

Maybe all those moments that replay constantly in your head never mattered the way they mattered to you.

The thought makes your stomach hurt every single time.

Then two weeks later, you make a terrible decision.

Not intentionally terrible.

Just emotionally immature terrible.

Because Steve has spent fourteen straight days acting like he wants something from you before immediately retreating the second you get too close to figuring it out, and honestly? You’re exhausted.

You’re tired of feeling insane around him.

Tired of overanalyzing every glance and every touch and every weird moment that never becomes anything.

So when a guy from work asks you out again, you say yes mostly because you want one night where you don’t spend the entire evening emotionally orbiting Steve.

Which is exactly why bringing him into Family Video turns out to be such a catastrophically bad idea.

You don’t even realize Steve’s working at first.

The bell above the door jingles softly as you step inside laughing at something your date says while warm evening air follows you into the store.

And then your eyes land on Steve behind the counter.

Immediately, your smile falters.

Not visibly enough for your date to notice.

But Steve notices.

Of course he does.

He’s halfway through shelving tapes when he freezes completely.

His stomach drops so fast it almost makes him dizzy.

Because you’re standing there beside another guy again.

Close enough that your shoulders brush when you walk.

Close enough that Steve instantly hates him for breathing near you.

And the worst part—the truly unbearable part—is that you look beautiful tonight.

Not overly dressed up.

Just soft.

Comfortable.

Your hair slightly messy from summer humidity, oversized sweater slipping off one shoulder a little while you laugh quietly at something the guy beside you says.

Steve feels sick immediately.

Robin looks up from behind the register, sees the expression on Steve’s face, and physically winces.

“Oh no,” she mutters under her breath.

Your date wanders toward the horror section while you linger awkwardly near the counter.

Steve still hasn’t moved.

The atmosphere between you feels strange instantly.

Tight.

“You work tonight?” you ask softly.

Steve laughs once.

Short and humorless.

“Apparently.”

Your eyebrows pull together slightly.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Nothing.”

But it very obviously isn’t nothing.

You glance at him more carefully then.

His jaw looks tense.

Eyes darker somehow.

And suddenly you realize he’s staring at the guy currently browsing movies three aisles away.

Your chest tightens unexpectedly.

“Steve.”

“What?”

“You’re being weird again.”

That snaps something.

Steve sets the tapes in his hands down too hard against the counter before finally looking directly at you.

“Weird?” he repeats.

You blink slightly at the sharpness in his voice.

“Yeah.”

He stares at you for another second like he’s trying very hard not to say something dangerous.

Then quietly:

“Do you even like these guys?”

The question catches you so off guard that you actually laugh once in confusion.

“What?”

“I’m serious.”

You stare at him.

“I barely know what that means.”

Steve runs a hand through his hair harshly, visibly frustrated now in a way you’ve genuinely never seen directed at you before.

“You go out with these random idiots constantly and half the time you don’t even seem interested.”

Your confusion immediately shifts toward irritation.

“Okay, first of all—rude.”

Steve ignores that entirely.

“Do you actually even want to be here right now?”

“What is your problem?”

The words come out sharper than you intended.

Steve’s expression flickers.

Like he’s surprised you snapped back.

But then he looks toward your date again and something ugly flashes briefly across his face before he looks back at you.

“I just don’t get it.”

Your heartbeat starts speeding up now for reasons you don’t fully understand.

“Get what?”

“This.” Steve gestures vaguely between you and the rest of the store. “You keep going out with these guys and then acting miserable afterward.”

Your eyes narrow instantly.

“You’re seriously doing this right now?”

“Doing what?”

“You don’t get to interrogate my dating life, Steve.”

“I’m not interrogating you.”

“You literally are.”

The tension between you feels thick enough to choke on now.

Across the store, Robin very slowly disappears into the back room because she wants absolutely no part in whatever emotional disaster is currently unfolding.

Steve lowers his voice slightly.

“I just think maybe you deserve better than random assholes who don’t even know you.”

“And you do?” you shoot back immediately.

The second the words leave your mouth, Steve goes completely still.

So do you.

Because suddenly the conversation feels dangerously close to something neither of you are ready for.

Your pulse pounds hard in your throat.

Steve stares at you for a long second before speaking carefully.

“That’s not what I meant.”

“Then what did you mean?”

His jaw tightens.

You can practically see him fighting with himself.

And suddenly anger starts rising hot in your chest because none of this feels fair.

He doesn’t get to act jealous.

Not after months of confusing you into emotional ruin while never actually wanting anything.

Not after making you feel crazy for reading too deeply into things he probably never meant in the first place.

“You know what?” you say suddenly, voice quieter now but sharper somehow. “I genuinely don’t understand why you’re upset.”

Steve laughs once bitterly.

“Seriously?”

“Yes, seriously.”

His eyes flash.

“Because watching you with these guys sucks.”

The confession lands between you hard enough to steal the air from your lungs for a second.

But then immediately confusion crashes into it.

Because what?

“What does that even mean?” you ask.

Steve opens his mouth.

Stops.

And that hesitation hurts your feelings more than the actual argument.

Because there it is again.

Always almost something.

You take a small step backward.

“No, seriously, Steve.” Your voice shakes slightly now despite your best efforts to stop it. “You don’t get to act possessive over me when you’ve never actually wanted me.”

His expression changes instantly.

“What?”

“You heard me.”

“That’s not—”

“Then what is it?” you interrupt, suddenly angry enough that you can’t stop now. “Because from my perspective, you flirt with everybody. You touch everybody. Half the time I can’t tell if you even realize you’re doing it.”

Steve looks genuinely stunned.

You laugh softly in disbelief.

“You think I’m supposed to magically know what you mean when you’ve never said anything?”

“I thought it was obvious,” he says before he can stop himself.

The words hit you like physical force.

For one horrible second both of you just stare at each other.

Because suddenly the entire foundation underneath your friendship feels unstable.

Obvious?

Your chest hurts.

“Obvious?” you repeat quietly. “Steve, I spent months convincing myself I imagined all of this because I genuinely thought there was no way you could actually feel that way about me.”

Something cracks visibly across his face then.

“Forget it,” you mutter quietly, though your voice sounds wrong even to yourself now. Too tight. Too fragile around the edges.

Steve’s expression shifts immediately after the words leave your mouth.

Like he wants to stop you.

Like there’s something sitting right there behind his teeth fighting to get out.

For one awful second, you genuinely think he’s going to say it.

That he’s finally going to grab your wrist or pull you aside or look at you the way he used to before everything between you became so confusing and terrifyingly careful.

Instead he just stands there.

Completely still.

Your chest aches painfully as you look away from him first because suddenly holding eye contact feels impossible. The entire store feels too bright now, too crowded, fluorescent lights buzzing faintly overhead while your heartbeat pounds hard enough to make you feel sick.

Your date says something beside you — asking which movie you wanted again maybe — but you barely hear him.

All you can feel is Steve standing a few feet away not stopping you.

Not fighting for you.

Not saying the thing you desperately needed him to say.

And, maybe that’s your answer right there.

Because if Steve really wanted you the way part of you has secretly hoped for months now, wouldn’t he do something?

Wouldn’t he finally say it?

Instead there’s just silence stretching painfully between you while his eyes stay fixed on your face with an expression you can’t even begin to untangle anymore.

Hurt.

Regret.

Fear.

You don’t know.

You’re suddenly too emotional to tell the difference.

So you force yourself to step backward even though every instinct in your body is screaming at you not to.

Steve’s jaw tightens immediately at the movement.

Still, he says nothing.

And that tiny hesitation completely shatters something inside you.

Because you’ve spent months convincing yourself not to want this boy too much. Months trying to ignore the way your entire body reacts whenever he walks into a room. Months pretending his touches didn’t linger afterward, pretending his attention didn’t feel different from everyone else’s.

And now here you are standing in the middle of Family Video realizing maybe you imagined all of it after all.

The humiliation burns hot behind your ribs.

You laugh softly under your breath, but there’s absolutely no humor in it.

“Yeah,” you whisper mostly to yourself. “Okay.”

Steve’s expression flickers with immediate panic.

“Wait—”

But now you’re angry too.

Not at him entirely.

At yourself.

For hoping.

For reading too deeply into every look and every almost moment until you built something beautiful out of scraps that maybe never meant what you thought they did.

You shake your head once before he can finish whatever he was about to say.

“No, it’s fine.”

The words come out sharp and shaky at the same time.

You hate that he can probably hear the hurt in your voice.

Your date glances awkwardly between both of you now, clearly realizing something uncomfortable is happening but not understanding enough to interrupt.

Steve notices him looking and immediately closes himself off again.

Like a door slamming shut.

And somehow that hurts worst of all.

Because there it is again.

Every single time things start becoming real between you, Steve retreats.

Your throat tightens painfully.

So before he can watch your composure completely fall apart, you turn toward the front door and force yourself to walk away.

The bell above the entrance jingles softly as you push outside into the humid summer night air, but even the warmth outside feels cold suddenly compared to how hard your chest hurts.

Behind you, Steve still doesn’t follow.

And that absolutely destroys him afterward.

⋆˚꩜｡ part 3 is out here