Hi, itâs since itâs summer right now, Iâm way more open to writing, so drabble requests are open! Feel free to message me with any feedback or ideas! Itâs been a while since Iâve done this sort of thing :)
Iâll be working on a masterlist soon, so stay tuned!
What I write for:
      Star Wars
      Marvel
      Stranger Things
       DC
       Really whatever Iâm feeling like :/
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Steve Harrington x Babysitter!Reader (maybe soon to be FinalGirl!Reader)
Desc:Â Well, Steve and babysitter!reader have finally made it to Starcourt. All they need is a dress and between the two of them, that shouldnât be that hard. That is, as long as they donât bump into any one they hate. That would be terrible.
Notes: (sorry haha) Hi, thanks again for the support on this fic, I really, really appreciate it. Also, in the flashback, the POV gets a little wonky, and I wanted to apologize for that. Iâll probably fix it later, but Iâm tired and I wanted to get this chapter out! It really helps to connect these upcoming parts, so Iâm excited to keep laying the ground work. Also, I may start releasing separate smaller one shots for this version of Stranger things, ones connected to this story. idk though haha
warnings: violence, character jumpscare
(set between season 2 and 3!)
Part 1Â Part 2
read on ao3
Breathing in the smell of soft pretzels and a clean waxed floor, Steve decided that he liked this new mall. Of course, it wasnât just because of the smell- that wouldâve been weird. No. it was the throngs of people that littered the three huge floors, the bright shapes and colors that battled for his attention. It was a far shot from what Hawkins usually was and he liked it.
He glanced back to look for you, realizing that his thoughts were directly contrasting yours.
Pressing closer than you usually cared to, you almost clung to the back of Steveâs jacket, head on a swivel. While he was excited by the mass hysteria that was Starcourt- you eyed the crowd warily, as if any one of them was going to jump you. You were acting like a skittish, traumatized baby deer, and he was the park ranger ushering you to safety.
It was quite the change of pace from how your dynamic usually went.
(Most times, he was still attempting to be a park ranger and you acted like his smarter, more competent boss.)
âHowâre you doing back there Chief?â He asked, making his way toward the escalator.
You repressed a sigh, elbowing past a group of teenagers with a wrinkled nose and brow. âThereâs a lot of people here.â
âThatâs a bad thing?â Steve stepped onto the revolving steps, turning to watch your feet as they followed.
âNo.â Answering distantly, you place a hand on the railing, head tipping up to take in the bright signs and gaping skylight. âI just like being able to get places withoutâŚâ you trailed off, jaw clenched. ââŚwithout much in the way.â
Steveâs eyes widened as he fully faced you, both hands on the railing. âDo you really think of people as things in your way?â He asked, flabbergasted.
âNo!â You insisted, voice high and head-shaking rapidly as you tried to dissuade him. âNo- I just⌠Iâm used to having a plan for everything I do. And my stupid little unconscious ideas donât usually include dodging and weaving! I just donât like the extra-â
âOh my god. Youâre like my old next door neighbor.â He breathed, twisting his body so he was looking half at you and half at the approaching end of the escalator. âHe throws things at kids as they run over his lawn.â
You gaped at him as he jumped off the escalator. âI am not.â
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
â Live Streamingâ Interactive Chatâ Private Showsâ HD Quality
Anya is LIVE right now
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Steve Harrington x Babysitter!Reader (maybe soon to be FinalGirl!Reader)
Desc:Â Well, Steve and babysitter!reader have finally made it to Starcourt. All they need is a dress and between the two of them, that shouldn't be that hard. That is, as long as they don't bump into any one they hate. That would be terrible.
Notes: (sorry haha) Hi, thanks again for the support on this fic, I really, really appreciate it. Also, in the flashback, the POV gets a little wonky, and I wanted to apologize for that. I'll probably fix it later, but I'm tired and I wanted to get this chapter out! It really helps to connect these upcoming parts, so I'm excited to keep laying the ground work. Also, I may start releasing separate smaller one shots for this version of Stranger things, ones connected to this story. idk though haha
warnings: violence, character jumpscare
(set between season 2 and 3!)
Part 1Â Part 2
read on ao3
Breathing in the smell of soft pretzels and a clean waxed floor, Steve decided that he liked this new mall. Of course, it wasnât just because of the smell- that wouldâve been weird. No. it was the throngs of people that littered the three huge floors, the bright shapes and colors that battled for his attention. It was a far shot from what Hawkins usually was and he liked it.
He glanced back to look for you, realizing that his thoughts were directly contrasting yours.
Pressing closer than you usually cared to, you almost clung to the back of Steveâs jacket, head on a swivel. While he was excited by the mass hysteria that was Starcourt- you eyed the crowd warily, as if any one of them was going to jump you. You were acting like a skittish, traumatized baby deer, and he was the park ranger ushering you to safety.
It was quite the change of pace from how your dynamic usually went.
(Most times, he was still attempting to be a park ranger and you acted like his smarter, more competent boss.)
âHowâre you doing back there Chief?â He asked, making his way toward the escalator.
You repressed a sigh, elbowing past a group of teenagers with a wrinkled nose and brow. âThereâs a lot of people here.â
âThatâs a bad thing?â Steve stepped onto the revolving steps, turning to watch your feet as they followed.
âNo.â Answering distantly, you place a hand on the railing, head tipping up to take in the bright signs and gaping skylight. âI just like being able to get places withoutâŚâ you trailed off, jaw clenched. ââŚwithout much in the way.â
Steveâs eyes widened as he fully faced you, both hands on the railing. âDo you really think of people as things in your way?â He asked, flabbergasted.
âNo!â You insisted, voice high and head-shaking rapidly as you tried to dissuade him. âNo- I just⌠Iâm used to having a plan for everything I do. And my stupid little unconscious ideas donât usually include dodging and weaving! I just donât like the extra-â
âOh my god. Youâre like my old next door neighbor.â He breathed, twisting his body so he was looking half at you and half at the approaching end of the escalator. âHe throws things at kids as they run over his lawn.â
You gaped at him as he jumped off the escalator. âI am not.â
âAre too.â
âAm not.â You hissed, pushing forward in an attempt to get away from him. He watched you walk past, glancing fervently around the second floor. He smirked, waiting patiently for you to turn around. He knew you were more stubborn than you liked to admit, but also knew that you hated providing evidence for that stubbornness. Which is why he stood there with a smirk, watching as you slowly turned to face him.
âWhich way is it?â
Steve shrugged, rubbing his face like it was the greatest mystery in the world. You rolled your eyes at him, brows low. He just walked over to you, gesturing ahead with his hands. This way, he could still lead the way and force you to tag along right next to him. And despite your little made-up plans, you followed after, complying with his actions.
Only a few minutes pass as the two of you walk together, Steveâs head snapping back and forth to make sure he was actually leading you in the right direction. Heaven forbid if he wasnât. Then, as he was passing a flashy athletic shoe store, you got a little distracted.
He feels more than sees you leave his side. Steve turns, neck twisting this way and that. Despite your hesitation in this place, you sure didnât seem too nervous enough to drift into the crowd. Luckily, he caught sight of you before the annoyance took root. You had slowed to a stop next to one of the displays, transfixed by the scene inside.
A girl was standing on a pedestal, dressed in a bright white gown. She twirled hesitantly in the dress, looking at herself in the multifaceted, full-length mirror. You stood with an unreadable expression, fingertips ghosting across the glass. Your eyes, normally fire bright and present, were distant and soft, lids low. There was a soft smile tugging at the corners of your mouth. You had left him by accident, and were now a million miles away, somewhere deep in that head of yours. Steve looked quickly between you and the crème-colored shop, connecting the dots.
âYou know, I didnât take you for the wedding type of girl.â He tells you, unaware of the way it sounded. The expression that crossed over your face dunked Steveâs nerves in ice.
âWhat is that supposed to mean?â You inquired as you snapped out of your quiet reverie, eyes narrowing sharply. âYou donât think Iâm good enough to marry?â
âNo!â He refuted immediately, âNo, of course not- you⌠youâre great! Any guy would be lucky to land you!â
Your narrowed eyes softened slightly and pulled away from him, back into the store. But that distant look was gone- overtaken by your usual blazing alertness.
âI justâŚâ Steve continued cautiously, hoping not to stick his foot right back into his mouth. âYou donât seem like the type of girl who would stop and stare into a boutique window.â
âI have my layers.â Your eyes drift slowly from the store as you take a step back. He follows, eyes trained on the way your head bobbed as you spoke. âI can manufacture a mean flamethrower and plan a wedding- theyâre not mutually exclusive.â
âOkay, well for now, we arenât here to plan for your future wedding. Weâre here for Prom.â He reminded you, feeling like he needed to really stress the importance of this dance. If you could be that transfixed by a wedding dress- how hard would it be to get you excited about these ones? And, the more excited you were, the more painless it would be for the both of you.
And he needed that night to be as painless as possible.
He suddenly felt your gaze on him, burning mischievously behind innocent lashes.
âYou know, with the way you talk about it, I think youâd be someone whoâs planning their wedding right now.â You prodded, voice bouncy as you bumped his arm with yours. The sly little smirk that stretched your mouth was covering something- some kind of hidden motive. The thought of you trying to dig for something- some other hidden reason of his- inflated his ego. Instead of ignoring or tolerating him- you were actively trying to pull him apart like a Rubix cube. And if he was being honest- it was fun.
Playing along, Steve looked at you and shrugged, cocking his head left then right, making a show of contemplation, his eyes squinted. Your mouth popped open, brows shooting up.
âWait- have you?â
âNo! I mean, Iâve definitely thought about it.â He admitted, saying much more than he let on. If he was telling the whole truth, he'd done a lot more than thinking about it. Honestly, it was a dream of his- a life goal. He wanted the wedding, the house, the kids, and the steady job. Everything that came with it. The wedding was just part of it. Well...That, and a wedding included being legally bound to someone who really, really loved you. He wanted that kind of life- badly. He wasnât going to tell you all that of course, not if he didnât want to look insane. âBut not to the extent of you know, what type of flowers would be on the tables or who would actually be invited.â
âOh my god.â You breathe and Steve turns at your much less giggly voice. Youâre looking up at him with a slack jaw, fingers pressing against your cheek and grazing your lips âYouâre a total sap.â You laugh, the sound jumping out of your throat as you drop the hand.
âHey! Donât laugh.â He hisses, face burning as he's sure it starts to turn pink. Whyâd he even admit that anyway? Was it just because he wanted to relate to you? Was it because he wanted you to feel comfortable? Or was it just because of the soft, easy way his words seemed to tumble out of his mouth when you were around? Either way, he was starting to regret it. He shook his hand and pointed it at you, vying for reclamation of his dignity. âYouâre gonna want to cut that shit out if Iâm going to be paying for both the tickets-â
âSteve- itâs not a date. I already told you that I can-â You stop in your tracks, mouth snapping shut. For a moment, Steve wonders if itâs another bridal boutique.
And then he sees what you do.
And his nose aches to think about the last time he had been this close to Billy Hargrove.
 *****************************************
 It was a few days after Halloween, only thirty minutes after the rest of the team had left to take care of their separate missions- and Steveâs group was left at the house.
That lucky group included you.
And you werenât happy about it.
You had been literally benched by Hopper, grounded after you had voluntarily driven his adopted daughter off of his secret property. From what he could gather, you wouldnât have changed a single thing you had done. But that didnât mean you werenât pissed about being left at the Byerâs house.
And now, there was this.
Between the two of you, Steve had assumed you were the smart one.
But oh my god, he had been so wrong.
Instead of dissuading the kids from their stupid, reckless plans to distract those weird dog things, you were agreeing with them. It was driving him crazy, watching you scramble around the house with them, trying to decipher away to fight an all-powerful interdimensional being. What were you guys even going to do? Hit it with Lucas' dinky little slingshot?
But honestly, he should've been prepared for your strange behavior. He shouldâve known you'd be on board the second you showed up that night, freshly decked out in your all-black outfit, a shadowy specter cloaked in leather and Demodog blood. Oh- and Eleven, who most everyone thought had died about a year ago.
The biggest red flag shouldâve been your makeshift flamethrower, a dangerous combination of hairspray and a tiny pink lighter. It was terrifying to see the distance between your fingers and the roaring flames.
Unfortunately, he hadnât considered any of that.
You were standing next to the kids, staring over Dustinâs shoulder at the weird, pasted map. A flicker of excitement was blazing in your kohl-lined eyes, as if an unseen plan connected in your brain. âWe can take my car. I still have an extra lighter left over-â
âHey. Hey! Hey!â Steve exclaimed, clapping loud enough that he finally tore your attention away from the quickly spiraling plan. The blaze faltered, your head snapping towards him questioningly âThis is not happening.â
âBut-â
âNo buts. I promised Iâd keep you shitheads safe- we promised-'' Steve looked pointedly at you, swathed in your unfamiliar cloud of coal, really trying to convince Dracula rather than the kids. If there were two âbabysittersâ saying no, there was a much higher chance of nobody dying. You just stared at him blankly as he continued. â-and thatâs exactly what I plan on doing. Weâre staying here. On the bench. And weâre waiting for the starting team to do their job. Does everybody understand?â
You shook your head slightly, mouth pressed into a thin line. âSteve, if we can help at all-â
âI said, does everybody understand that?â Steve repeated loudly, no longer asking. You stared up at him as something changed in your pointed, blown wide pupils, your stained lips forming a silent âoâ. Your gaze flickered across his figure before you looked at the kids- and they looked at you. Once again, they were referring to your reaction, your judgment of the scenario.
He wouldâve been mad about it if he hadnât been wanting to do the exact same thing.
âIâm going alone then.â You decided, arms folding defiantly as Steve pinned you with an unbelieving look. All he was asking for was one thing. One.
You were being difficult on purpose- he was sure of it.
Yelps of resistance rose up from everyone else in the room as you placed your hands on your hips, mirroring Steve in his posture. Eyes narrowing up at him, you stood as an unwavering point of night in the yellow seeped house. You were intimidating for someone your size- but Steve didnât care. He wasnât letting anyone be stupid on his watch- and that included you.
âLike hell youâre-â
Thatâs when the loud roar of a car rips through the night, stopping all of the commotion to a dead halt. Max rushes to the window and her round pink face grows pale, blue eyes clouding over. âThatâs my brother. He canât know Iâm here. Heâll kill me. Heâll kill us.â
For a tense moment, no one moves, the sound of tearing gasoline flooding the air with anxiety. Steve looks at you, trying to gauge your thoughts. He wanted to make sure you werenât going to run out the back door and head off on your own. But youâre just staring out the window, attention firmly set on the dark Camaro. It didnât look like you would be moving any time soon- not with Billy Hargrove posted up in the driveway.
Steve looked at the rag-tag group, a lump hardening in his throat. He knew you were a capable person- he did. You and El had literally just taken on a pack of Demodogs- so he couldnât rationalize that you werenât able to take care of yourself- or the kids.
But this was a fragile situation. He wasnât sure what Hargrove was capable of- but he didnât want to find out.
âEveryone stay here.â Steve ordered.
You moved to follow him, pent-up emotion roaring beneath your gaze.
âHey. No- stay with the kids.â
âSteve.â
âIâve got this,â he assured you, pointing back at the kids on the couch. âIf a Demogorgon comes in, use that can of hairspray you love so much.â Plastering a smirk across his face in an attempt to loosen your tight fists, he turned toward the door and let the cold November air swallow him up.
He could handle this. The fewer people he had to worry about, the better. As long as everyone was inside, he just needed to scare Hargrove off.
Piece of cake.
He stood expectantly at the foot of the porch, dread grinding his stomach as the reckless driver kicked open his door. Steve could smell his cigarette from there, the smoke announcing his presence.
âAm I dreaming, or is that you Harrington?â
âYeah itâs me, donât cream your pants.â Steve said, trying to move the whole thing along. He didnât have time to put up any resistance to his shitty attitude.
And for a minute or two, Steve thought it was going well. Maybe he had it handled enough that your little group would leave this night without a scratch.
And then Billy saw the kids- and you- in the window.
Steve shouldâve known it was going to come to blows. Or at least, he shouldâve been ready for it, or thrown the first punch. If he had, the guy wouldnât have been able to stomp up to the door and smash it open, coming face to face with you.
Steve groaned on the ground as Billy stomped past him, beating you to the door before you could lock it. The door slammed, sounding far away as Steve tried not to throw up across the grass.
While he did so, you had other problems.
Billy had taken one step inside the house and was looking at your little group like it was something to eat. His eyes eventually landed on you, planted firmly between him and the kids. He let out a short laugh, teeth sharp.
âHey Gatekeeper, you in on this with Harrington?â
You kept your jaw clenched, unfazed by his jab at your Halloween costume. The Halloween costume that you had worn for the very kids behind you. The kids that were relying on you to keep them safe, some even gripping the edges of your jacket on reflex.
The act made your heart heavy, fists clenching as you stared down the teen goliath before you. If he thought he was going to get a chance to even yell at one of them, he was dead wrong.
You decide not to indulge him, face stony.
A stitch of silence passes and Billy shifts his eyes off of you- and onto Lucas.
âSinclair.â You stretch your hand out a little farther, hovering close to Hargroveâs next target.
He makes a purposeful lunge in Lucasâs direction and you seem to make up your mind, launching forward without fear. The contact is fast- and the sound is immediate. It was like watching a forest fire colliding with a mountain. Your hand snaps out at a speed and ferocity that only the last year and a half would have given you, striking across his face like lightning across the sky. The rings that you had acquired from your recent makeover shine black on your retreating hand, explaining the fresh split in Billyâs lips. He stares at you in momentary surprise, eyes flaming as he realized what you had done.
âOkay.â He muttered, wiping the bright, sluggish blood from his growing smirk. âYou first then.â
Heâs on you before you can stop him, rough hands digging into your collar. Youâre drug backward by pure force, sneakers dragging against the floor. You hear the kids screaming. The struggle you put up barely has any effect as Billy slams you up into a cabinet.
You honestly shouldâve thought this one through a little more. He was bigger than you- and he wasnât some kind of Demogorgon that you could light on fire. He was a human. A giant, hulking, insane human- but a guy nonetheless. If you really wanted to take him on, you needed something that was going to really hurt him- even kill him.
And you donât think you were ready for that- physically or mentally.
The world is spinning and your head rings, reeling from the impact. Your hands fumble for purchase as he pushes into you, burning hot knuckles bruising your collarbone. Heâs looking at you like you were the one who was doing this- like you were the one who deserved to get thrown into the looney bin.
âYou do that again and Iâm going to make sure the next place you end up is a hospital.â
You ignore his threat as you glare up at him, contempt rolling behind closed lips. He was stronger than you- there was no arguing that point. But youâd be damned before you let this guy get anywhere near those kids. As soon as he felt finished with you, heâd go straight for Lucas.
That wasnât going to happen.
You push out your neck and sink your teeth into one of his thumbs.
Billy drops you with a scream. Falling to your knees, you scramble away, head reeling and lips smeared with blood. You hadnât hit bone- but you know you had made a dent. The taste fills your mouth, warm and metallic. You didnât like it. And if you didnât get away from Billy now, youâd be tasting more of it pretty soon. That thought was enough to push you toward the table, head ringing. But before you can lift back up, one of your ankles is yanked backward, slamming you back to the ground.
There isnât time to brace for the impact. Your jaw connects hard with the wood and stars explode across your vision. A noise squeezes through your clenched teeth. You hear a strangled laugh pierce through the blended shouts for your safety as youâre drug back across the floor. You move to fight back, but a hand fists itself in your hair, slamming your face straight into the hardwood.
Pain explodes through your nose, eyes pricking with tears. Before you can even react, youâre being raised to your knees, yanked up by the hold on your hair.
âYou know what? I take it back. We arenât going to need a hospital tonight.â Billy threatens, pointing at you with the hand you had tried to take a bite of. If you hadnât been so out of it, you probably wouldâve laughed at his bloody finger. His grip on your hair grows tighter. âYouâre dead.â
And honestly, you might have been. You might have gone out against a sociopathic musclehead, splattered against the Byerâs kitchen floor.
But then you catch sight of a familiar mop of brown hair over Billy's shoulder, and your heart performs a weak jumping jack. You struggled against your aggressor's grip, keeping his eyes on you.
Steve had managed to make his way back into the house. He had stopped momentarily at the sight in the kitchen, panic shooting through his veins the way he imagined heroin would. Your limp figure was just barely visible behind Billyâs and he couldnât see what was happening. He couldnât see you.
Steve blinked out of his momentary hesitation and rushed forward, pushing Billy hard in the back. You dropped out of his grip, hands barely planting before you hit the ground.
Hargrove turned with wide eyes, coming face to face with Steve, a savior in blue denim.
âNo. You are.â
For the second time that night, Billy was struck across the face, Steveâs fist just barely missing the spot where you had slapped him. He watched, stone-faced as Billy stumbled away, a bone-chilling cackle rising up from his throat. Steve stole a glance at you, pushing away slowly from off the floor, nose dripping with darkened blood. Dustin and Max were pulling you away from the scene, coaxing you back from the danger.
For now, you were out of harm's way.
If he had gotten there sooner, you wouldnât have had to be in it in the first place. Your blood wouldnât have been smeared across the hardwood floor, dark against the dinky yellow lights of the house.
Billy pointed at Steve, pulling his attention back to him. âLookâs like you got some fire in you after all, huh?â He taunted, smile full of teeth and half insane. He stepped forward as he pushed his hair out of his face, eye to eye with Steve. "Iâve been waiting to meet this King Steve everybodyâs been telling me so much about.â
Despite how much he wanted to kick his ass, Steve knew they had bigger problems to deal with. The sooner they got rid of Billy, the better. He was wasting their time, and he wanted him gone. âGet out,â Steve ordered simply, contempt straining against his steady words. He didnât want to waste more breath on this guy than he had to.
And apparently, Billy felt the same way. At this point, words were useless.
Which is probably why he swung at him.
And for a while, Steve was doing pretty good. He landed a few punches and kept his head down and for a few moments, it seemed like the two guys were on common ground.
That was, until Billy smashed him overhead with a plate.
That was when everything went downhill.
Steve had ended up with his back against the floor, mirroring your situation a few minutes earlier- except he was getting punched over, and over, and over. The contact rained down repeatedly, his face beginning to feel like a tenderized piece of meat. He probably wouldâve been a goner if you hadnât keyed Max onto the syringe next to you. She had plunged it into his neck without so much a flinch, injecting him with the strange tranquilizer.
Everything sounded underwater as Steve lay on the floor, lights dancing across his eyes. He only really registered what was happening when you appeared over his head a few minutes later, head haloed by the yellow light.
âHey.â You slapped his face lightly, Steve barely feeling it. âHey, Steve, you need to stay awake. I think youâre going to have a concussion.â You informed him, hands now planting firmly on his shoulders and shaking. But his head felt like cement. Even if he had understood a single word you had said, nothing but a groan would have passed his swollen, bloodied lips. âCome on. You did pretty good. If he hadnât had the plate, my money wouldâve been on you.â
You were lying, but he appreciated it anyway, even through the fog.
Steve spit up a weak chuckle and you flinched, dodging the spray of blood. âSorry.â he mumbled between split, swelling lips, trailing your movements as you pushed up his coated, sticky bangs. Your hand was warm.
He wondered if you were always this warm.
In the back of his punch-drunk brain, he registered the jangling of keys and pieces of the conversation between you and the kids. Heâd feel you shake him every few moments, right as his vision would start to fuzz, growing black at the edges. Eventually, you were pulling at his shoulders, trying to get him out of his steadily growing puddle, hands and face streaked in red.
âSteveâŚâ you sounded far away. âWe need to go. And we canât leave you here⌠not with all this bloodâŚâ He watched your lips move but didnât really understand what you were saying. Go where? And why did the blood factor into his need to tag along?
When he didnât respond, you just sighed, a strange sort of pity hanging across your face. He blinked lazily, watching as you turned away from him, obviously talking to the kids. He wouldâve liked to hear what you were saying, but it was too late for him then.
He had already begun drifting off.
 ********
 âHuh. I see you took my advice.â Billy called out, stopping the both of you in your tracks. He was standing a few feet away from you, accompanied by some of his block-head cronies and rim-lit by the turquoise lights of a nearby store. Pushing away from the pillar he leaned against, he began walking towards you, smile dangerous.
Usually, Billy stayed out of Steveâs way. After last October, he had seemed to give everyone Max was friends with a wide berth, holding fast to his promise. Steve didnât think he would be the type of guy to honor a sisterâs wish, but so far it had looked that way. Until now, it seemed.
He hopped down the two small stairs, hands dug deep in his pockets as he came to stand right in the way. Steve wouldâve groaned if he hadnât known better. Billyâs razor-sharp gaze flickered your way as Steve felt the weight of you at his side. He almost sneered, a hand twitching reflexively, as if cowering before your bared teeth. âAnd look at that- itâs Maxâs new mommy.â he looked at Steve. âThat must make you Dad huh?â
âWeâre friends.â You answer, harsh and hatefully hot. Steve realizes then that as much as you like to argue with him, he was nowhere close to the level of dislike you had for Billy. You looked at the leather-bound prick in front of you like he was a Demogorgon. Not a human- a monster that you needed to get rid of. In your hate, you beat Steve to the punch, poison dripping from your tongue. âBut you wouldnât understand that, would you?â
Billy tilted his head at you, pink lips curling over blinding fangs.
âI forgot you were the ones with the balls in this relationship.â His gaze tracked you up and down, a little huff leaving his mouth. âDid you have fun cleaning up after me and your little boyfriend?
This time, you didnât flinch.
âNot as much as kicking in your nose.â
Oh. Yeah, Steve had forgotten about that.
Before you had left the house that night, and even before you had gotten him in the car, you had recruited Max and Lucas to help drag Billy out to the garbage. The literal garbage. The three of you had left him propped up against one of the cans, keys dropped into his lap. As little as you had wanted to help him out, you had wanted him gone as soon as you could.
Then, after Max had gone back inside, you kicked him square in the nose.
You had thought it poetic- and payback for you and Steveâs matching injuries.
Billy let out a terse little chuckle, strain rolling in his darkening eyes. Steve had been ready to jump in, to say anything. But you had beat him to it- reminding Billy exactly why he had been staying away for the last few months. When it came back down to it, you were all friends- and shared a deep dislike for Billy, one that went deep enough to cause violence. So if he ever tried something, he knew there were plenty of people waiting to get back at him in return.
Steve was one of those people. If it ever came to a head like that again, he wouldnât be going down this time. Especially not when there were no plates around.
Air tense, Steve tore his gaze from your rocksteady stance, ready to back you up. If trading insults was the agenda today, he could do that with you.
But thatâs when he saw it.
While you absolutely loathed Billy- he found you entertaining.
It was the searing heat in his eyes as he had looked up and down, smirking close-mouthed and taunting. He had been much too pleased by you jumping into the conversation, forcing yourself between himself and Steve. He had seen this look before. It was the one guys would throw at each other after passing a girl on the street- or talking about someone in the locker room.
The flash of panic hit Steve in the chest, throat closing up like a crushed coke can.
He didnât deserve to look at you like that- he didnât deserve to look at you in any way besides apologetically. From like- the bottom of a six-foot grave that the two of you had dug.
Or something like that.
Either way, he wasnât going to get to be around you anymore. From what Steve was gathering, Billy wanted you to take a bite out of him.
But you didnât seem to realize this- probably focused on every way youâd like to hurt the mulleted barf bag in front of you.
Steve took a chance and caught your shoulder. âOkay, back up.â He advised, coaxing you back as Billy leared closer. Luckily for him, you didnât fight back, letting him step in front of you. If he hadnât, you probably wouldâve lasted a few more moments before trying to tear into him. Billy scoffed, reluctantly drawing his eyes away from you before stabbing them into Steve.
âYeah. Put that new bitch of yours on a leash.â
The rush of anger that punched through his throat came so fast and so hard that it almost knocked him off his feet.
Okay.
Maybe you couldnât do anything violent.
But Steve hadnât made any promises about himself.
He pushed forward, intent on getting Billy to apologize. Whether it was through words or fists, he wasnât really sure. But before he could even open his mouth, a toddler burst between the two men, laughing maniacally. Following quickly after was his mother, offering quick apologies after she raced past.
Steve looked at the gap caused by the interruption, blood quieting in his ears. Whatever tension was there before had snapped, dissolving into the commercialized air. Billy seemed to figure that out too. He looked up at Steve, blue eyes narrow before relaxing into a cocky nonchalance. The guy threw his arms out wide, shrugging at himself- as if daring Steve to resume what he started. He was trying to make it look like he was inviting a fight- like he wasnât concerned about the aftermath it would bring.
Luckily, Steve knew better.
And, he had an errand to run.
He let out a dry chuckle, nudging the back of your jacket. âLetâs get out of here. Weâre wasting our time.â
You nodded, never keeping your eyes off of Billy. Steve held his tongue, knowing he couldnât tell you to stop glaring. That would just open up a whole can of worms.
Hargrove watched as the two of you passed, smirk unflinching even as Steve turned his back. He could feel the burning sensation as you walked away, drilling into his back. And then it was gone, replaced by the carefully controlled air conditioning of the mall.
âGod, that guy is a dick.â You groaned, knocking Steve out of his paranoid thoughts.
âI dunno, I think he was pretty pleasant,â He tried joking, the words feeling forced on his tongue. He grimaced at that, annoyed that he still felt Billyâs presence. He swallowed, trying to banish the dry scratchiness in his throat. âBut in all seriousness, I was worried he was going to swing at you.â
âAw, you were worried about me?â You asked, the pitch of your voice rising in mock flattery.
Steve just blanched at your funny, but clueless reaction. âYeah. I was a little bit worried about you. I mean, you were the one who almost bit his finger off.â He answered, completely honest. âI thought I was going to have get another concussion.â
âDefending my honor?â
âSaving your scrappy ass.â Steve corrected, smothering the brief moment of vulnerability a few seconds earlier, hoping his humor did the job. You hadnât seemed to notice his admission, but he just wanted to make sure.
He didnât need you getting any ideas.
You laughed, and the tension left in his shoulders evaporated. Whatever had just occurred minutes earlier- or even months ago- was now completely out of your head, replaced by his own clever jokes. He wouldâve patted himself on the back if it hadnât made him look stupid.
The remaining walk to the store was short, filled with relative silence or little comments on items that stuck out in the windows. By the time you made it, Steve had five more solid reasons why he liked the mall.
Stepping into the department store, Steve was immediately hit by the flowery perfume, face scrunching.
âDress first?â You asked, biting back a laugh as you drifted over to one of the display racks, fingers ghosting over the fabric. Steve shook his head, mostly to get rid of his reaction to the perfume and partly to answer.
âNo. I already have a suit.â He answered easily, still focused on taking in the advertisements and strange decorations.
You spun on him, dress quickly forgotten. â You already have a suit? Then what are we matching with?â
âThe tie and the corsage.â Steve answered easily, passing you and heading over to what he thought was formal wear. You stared at him, for a moment refusing to move. He looked over his shoulder at you, miming confusion. âYou coming or not?â
âI canât believe-â You stared, but quickly cut yourself off, eyes closed as you took a deep breath through your nose. âYou know what? It doesnât matter,â you decided, eyes flashing open to stare at him. âIf we arenât looking for a suit, youâre going to be at my every beck and call.â
Steve had just laughed at that, unaware of how serious you had been.
You made good on your promise, quickly getting the gist of the department store before he did. You swept through the isles quickly, grabbing dress after dress. He followed your lead, throwing in a few of the dresses you had passed by. If he was going to be here, he might as well join in on the fun. He preferred the ones with lots and lots of sequins. You hated them. Around thirty minutes later, the cart Steve pushed was piled high, threatening to topple over.
Conceding the need to empty the cart, the two of you found the dressing rooms, connected to a wide, mirror-lined hallway. Steve stopped the cart in one of the first open rooms, watching as you disappeared behind a curtain.
The first dress you tried on was a disaster. It had been one of the ones Steve had pulled- the one with huge, arcing frills that seemed to make up the straps. He had seen plenty in the store like that- so he had just assumed it was what girls were wearing to prom. He didnât claim to know much, but he could see all of the mannequins and the other girls in the store carrying dresses around that were just like it.
But when he threw it over the dressing room door, all he heard was a groan.
âNo way.â
âWhat?!â Steve asked, genuinely confused. It was pink- you liked pink. Hell, your nails were painted pink. âWhatâs wrong with that one?â
âI just- I donât like it. Give me a new one.â
âBut you were the one who set it in the cart.â He reminded you, eyes wide and pointed at the wall. There was a door between the two of you, but he still saw the perfect picture of your reaction in his head. You had most likely rolled your eyes, all haughty and annoyed, arms folding as you crinkled the dress in hand.
âI was distracted!â
âListen, if you try it on and donât like it, you donât have to try on any of the other dresses I picked out.â Steve promised, a smirk on his face. Of course, he meant it if you didnât like it. But you were going to love it. He knew that. As a guy who really didnât care that much about fashion, he still had excellent taste- so the promise wasnât going to matter.
At least, thatâs what he thought until you actually pulled back the curtain.
âI look like a half-eaten cotton candy stick.â You bit out, bare feet smacking against the linoleum as you spread your arms out wide. The bright pink material was poofy and wide, the curved sleeves sticking out and digging into your jaw, while the shorter skirt rode up your thighs with every small step you were taking. It was... it was a terribly awful dress.
But the thing that broke him was the fact that you were in it, all edges and blazing personality, stuffed into a pink, oversized, paper mache finger trap.
âNo! No, you lookâŚâ Steve tried his best to keep it together- to keep that stiff smile firm upon his lips. But one look at your smoldering expression broke him. He ducked his head down toward his feet as the laugh burst from his nose. âYeah, yeah the cotton candy thing is really accurate. Iâm sorry. Iâm sorry.â He apologized, watching with a rising, weakly sympathetic grin as you snatched the next dress from the cart- one he hadnât picked out.
Fair was fair he guessed.
But, there wasnât much luck on the next one either. It was a color you had liked- shimmery, iridescent turquoise. Steve had insisted was going to make you look like the little mermaid, but you didnât care.
You had shuffled out, holding the skirt high along with your hopes. Those quickly came crashing down as you had to admit to him that he was right. The dress did look a little like Arielâs seashell bra.
So, that dress hadnât worked.
No biggie.
You had a huge pile of them in the cart next to Steve, so you werenât running out of them anytime soon.
Unfortunately, he was wrong.
Morbidly wrong.
You tried on dress after dress, but none of them really worked. Sometimes it was the fit, the color, the way it made you look like a cartoon character- nothing was working out. Steve had handed you each dress, knowing that this would be the one.
It never was.
You kept throwing them back at him after changing out of them, your frustration quickly beginning to be taken out on him. At one point, Steve felt like he was drowning in fabric, choked by colorful skirts and sleeves. He had let you do it though, knowing a sarcastic comment offered by him wouldâve been met by more crankiness.
And honestly, he was starting to worry that you were going to give up. The huge pile the two of you created was down to its last few dresses. And the odds of any of them working out? Dismal.
Steveâs feet ached, having tried a million ways to stay on his feet. But after as long as you had been inside that partition, he couldnât take it anymore. He slid down to the floor, finding heaven on the cold, squeaky floor.
âSteve.â
He grunted in response.
âThrow me one.â
Without much of a complaint, Steve got up onto his knees and slid one of the dresses from the cart, balling it up and throwing it over the top of the curtain. If he hadnât been so tired, he wouldâve pumped it fist as an excellent show of marksmanship. He slumps back against the wall, resigning himself to sit and agree with whatever you veto next. After a minute or two, the curtain rod shrills at the drag of metal. Steve drops his head to look at you andâŚ
Huh.
You looked really good.
Steve cocked his head to the side, eyes wide as his gaze traveled from the very edge of the skirt, up to the off-the-shoulder neckline. You had shoulders- and a collar bone. He had never seen those from you. He swallowed slightly, stomach burning with something like indigestion.
The red of the dress stood out like a firecracker against the unoffending beige of the hallway, punching through the unerring boredom. It followed your curves like a car on a track. Your hands follow those curves, a scarlet vision straight out of fiction. He straightened up slightly, eyes blown wide.
âHey- that looks-â
âItâs too much.â You muttered, a hand smoothing up and down your bare arm as you looked at yourself in the mirror. âItâs tacky. None of the other colors are half as loud as this one.â
Steve faltered, eyes landing on the curve of your butt. He cursed silently, closing his eyes and shaking his head.
This was you.
You were his friend- a surprising gorgeous one- so the fact that he had looked was an accident. One he definitely would not be thinking about later.
He cleared his throat, re-engaging you as he moved to stand. âEven the cotton candy dress?â
You didnât answer him, lost in your own head as you turned this way and that, nose wrinkling and brows forming their familiar concerned curves.
On one hand. You were right. Most of the dresses in the store- or just in general- were pastel-colored, light and unoffending, or just slightly off-color. He couldnât even remember a time a girl had worn a dress that bright and distracting- he wouldâve remembered it.
âIt fits you,â is what he finally manages to offer. He had moved closer behind you, now visible in the changing room mirror. The fluorescents overhead burn his eyes and are giving him a headache, but he sucks it up anyway. The picture of you in the mirror makes eye contact with him, frown jagged. Steve returns that expression. âYou donât like it?â
How didnât you like it?
You held your tongue for a few moments, your fingers swinging slightly in the loose fabric.
âI like how it looks on me. Iâm just worried people will think I look stupid,â you admitted. âIs that a totally ridiculous thing to worry about?â
You.
You of all people were worried about looking stupid.
Through his exhausted haze, Steve felt the deep sickness of confusion. He watched as the person who had stolen a police chiefâs gun worried about what would happen when you settled on the wrong dress. He didnât think you felt fear. You had never shown it before. Maybe the closest he had seen was annoyance or uncomfortability- but even in the face of monsters and sociopaths, you kept up a defiant image.
Maybe that was one of the reasons he had asked you.
Deep down, Steve had been too scared to show up to a stupid high school dance alone. And you? He thought you wouldnât have broken a sweat.
But here you were, greying and panicked over your slim dress options.
For every time you had saved his ass, he owed you this one at least.
The thick confusion starts to dissipate as he makes up his mind and heâs back to quickly answering your concerning, but albeit endearing question. â(F/n). Look at who youâre asking,â He joked, warmth curling in his chest as you heave out a barely audible laugh. You turn over your shoulder to look at him and he continues. âHonestly, I think thatâs the first dress thatâs worked for you- and Iâm exhausted. Weâve been here for two and a half hours.â Steve whined slightly, making a show of his sagging and weary bones. You narrowed your eyes at his act, lips pursing to keep back what he knew was a smile. Encouraged, Steve shot out one of his arms, ready to wrap it up. âAnd, just for a little more incentive, Iâve already got a tie that matches the dress.â
Your eyes widened, mouth breaking open with curved corners that you didnât care to hide. âYou just want to spend less money!â
Steve just shrugged, prideful in the way you had seemed to blaze back to life. âFinally figured that out huh?â
Gracing him with a biting, forced laugh, you ruffle up your hair and turn back to the mirror, hands atop your hips. Steve was starting to get used to how you looked, chest loosening. You were still your over-critical, annoying self. It put him at ease to see those familiar expressions crossing your face, returning you to normal. Everything about you was the same- you were just wearing a dress.
The soft worry that had filled your face was gone, replaced by serrated caution of the red garment. You were weighing your options. Lip pouted slightly, you took another spin, head on a swivel as you made sure to capture every angle of the dress.
Steve wouldâve teased you for being so meticulous, but he knew how long it took him to do his hair. Instead, he just offered a soft roll of his eyes, folding his arms.
âShut up.â You muttered, grabbing two fistfuls of the dress and lifting. Walking in place, your focus was solely on the wily fabric.
Thinking he was going to be stuck in this department store for decades, Steve let out a played-up groan, gaze finding the ceiling.
âDo you really think this works?â You ask finally, now facing him instead of the mirror.
That momentary shock of emotion flooded his system, limbs tensing. Steve loosened his jaw- repeating the same phrase over and over: sheâs annoying, sheâs annoying, sheâs annoying.
Steve nodded reassuringly, the confusion gone. âYou look great.â
âAre you sure?
He took a deep breath, knowing that he could handle it. He could just tell you the truth. No big deal. â(F/n), if I didnât already know how much of a nightmare you are, and I saw you in that dress, Iâd be asking you out.â As it rolled off his tongue, cheeks slightly pink, the pressure heâd felt on his chest lifted.
âA nightmare?â You gasped, eyes wide as you spun to face him.
âHey- that was a great compliment. I was basically calling you hot.â He pointed, correcting you for your own benefit. Then he winced, tilting his head. âPlatonically.â
âGood.â You nodded matter of factly, turning to look at yourself in the mirror, smile growing as blinding as your eyes. âPlatonic is the only option.â
With that out of the way, you hopped back into the dressing room. After a few minutes, the dress was off and situated, and the two of you dumped the discarded dresses back into the cart. It was a high stack- the ladies at the desk hadnât been exactly happy when you brought it back.
But that didnât matter.
Because you bought the dress.
After those long few hours, you were done. And Steve couldnât be happier. Until you forced him to carry the long plastic bag that is, almost skipping along as the two of you left the heavily flowered store. He couldnât complain though. Well, he could, and he did- but there was no real emotion behind it. He liked spending time with a friend- and right now, you were one of the few he had. Even if it was holding your bags or almost falling asleep on a department store floor.
On the way out of the mall, the two of you stopped and grabbed Chinese food- because by the time you had finally finished, it was time for dinner. Steve had wanted a burger- and you had wanted tacos.
You had met somewhere in the middle- somehow.
Eventually, dinner was eaten in the parking lot, sitting atop the hood of Steveâs car, sharing the chow mein and two sides meal.
You pushed away from him as he grabbed at your box.
âHey!â You yelped, watching helplessly as Steve was able to snag a wonton from your grasp.
He shrugged, making a sort of âduhâ face at your expense.âWeâre supposed to be sharing.â
âYou said you didnât like wontons.â You reminded him, repeatedly stabbing your chopsticks into the box, glare weak.
âWell, I didnât love how they looked.â Steve explained, shoving his stolen food into his mouth and pushing it aside. âBut now I know they taste great.â
He watched as you shook your head at him, tugging your bent legs closer into your body. Your silhouetted hair shook as you did so, drawing his eyes to the mellowing red sun.
âYouâre like a little boy,â you grouch, shoulders hunched as you eat your own wonton.
Glee rising in his throat and stopping from swallowing his food, Steve coughs slightly, barely avoiding choking.
Beside him, you smile, red light reflecting in your eyes. âGag.â
Steve snapped back to look at you, eyes blown wide. âWhat?!â He asks, trying to sound shocked and hurt- but canât help the delight driving up the pitch of his words. âDid you just tell me to gag- so I would drop dead?â
You looked at him over your cup, mixing your chow mein slowly. âYeah.â
âThatâs it,â Steve began, slapping his own box down next to him and turning towards you. âIâm taking all of the wontons.â
âNo-â You cut yourself off as you let out a scream, pushing out with one arm and extending the other, far away from him as he reached over. You caught him sharply in the chest and he barely grunts, reaching in a display of desperation. He can feel your breath bursting against his collar as you wind up for another yell. âYou donât even like them!â
âStop complaining- just hand them over-â
â(F/n)?â
Steve freezes, ice-cold fear running through his bloodstream. Throat drying, his gaze dropped from yours, panic overtaking his motor functions. You take his momentary stillness to jab him with your elbow, pushing him off your shoulder and turning toward the voice.
He knew who it was before having to turn around.
He heard that voice... saw her face whenever he closed his eyes. She was the one person he wanted to see the most, and the one person he couldnât talk to. And- she was the only reason you were going to the prom with him. If had had the choice, he would be with her in a heartbeat. He loved her- and it was sucking the life out of him.
The relaxed air he had felt sitting beside you caught in his chest, easily swept away by the girl approaching.
âNancy?â You ask, grin growing wide as you recognized your friend. But as you actually took a second to look at her, a good forty feet away, you were able to get a look at her face. She was walking toward the two of you at a brisk pace, expression unreadable. Typically, you wouldâve received a swift smile back.
That couldnât be good.
Usually, she would offer him an awkward smile- even a wave if they somehow crossed paths. But the two of you got neither.
âSteve.â You turn to look at him, brows low and expression confused. âYou told Nancy about us going to Prom- right?â
Oh.
Oh shit.
Now he knew why she was walking so fast, an uptight vision of pale purple hurtling straight for the car. The realization grabbed him by the throat and squeezed, threatening to stop the flow of oxygen to his brain. Heâd really screwed up and his own body knew it before he did.
But what could he do?
He just inhaled through his teeth, shoulderâs raising apologetically.
âDamn it, Steve.â You groaned and turned back to Nancyâs ever-approaching figure, ready for the worst.
could you possibly do some angsty enemies to lovers confessions? thanks!!
oooh yes :oo
enemies to lovers confession prompts
 âbe careful next time, okay?âÂ
"god, i don't know what i would have done if you got hurt."
 âyou grew on me, alright?â
 âi like you, damn it, is that what you wanted to hear?âÂ
 âof course, it just had to be you. it always had to be you.âÂ
 âwhy was it always you?âÂ
 âcanât you just leave me alone? i think about you enough as it is..âÂ
 âjust. stay here.âÂ
 âi guess i just got used to you being around...âÂ
 âwait, iâm sorry. iâm new at this...âÂ
 âyou make me want to be better.âÂ
 âiâm so sorry for everything iâve said to you before.â
 âif i could take it all back, i would.âÂ
 âyou didnât deserve that..âÂ
 âthis wasnât supposed to happen. you werenât supposed to do this to me.âÂ
 âi used to feel like my stomach turned when you walked into the room. turns out that wasnât because the sight of you made me physically sick...âÂ
 âcan we start over?â
 âi like what we have...âÂ
 âi can change.âÂ
 âyou went from meaning absolutely nothing to me to being everything.âÂ
 âi thought iâd never see you again.âÂ
 âyou already hate me as it is so itâs not like i have nothing to lose here...i like you.â
 âno matter how hard i tried to push you away, i just couldnât.âÂ
 âiâm glad you stuck around..âÂ
 âforget what i said before, please, never stop talking.â
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Part Two of âWhatâs love got to do with it?â
Steve Harrington x Babysitter!Reader
Desc:Â Youâre barely a friend to Steve Harrington- if anything, youâre maybe slightly more then acquaintances. But it turns out, if you help a guy save a small town, he tends to stick around more then you like. And now? Heâs making you go to Prom with him. Itâs strictly platonic- because thatâs the only reason you finally broke down and said yes. And itâs going to stay that way.
Right?Â
(set between season 2 and 3!)
Notes:Â Sorry this chapter got so long! Now that Iâve established the idea of this fic, the chapters may stay a little long from here on out. But, if itâs easier to read in smaller chapters, just let me know! I had fun writing this one, and Iâm excited to get the plot really rolling. A few of these chapters will include flashbacks to things that happened in season 2, mostly because I like throwing babysitter!reader into them, but I donât want to write a whole fic of that. Anyway, this chapter will be one of them. Thanks for reading!
warnings:Â definitely some language and sexual content- though nothing explicit
read on ao3
*
âI think I like you a lot better like this.â
âLike-â Steve groaned as you pulled at the top of his head, kissing down his cheek and settling into his open neck. âLike what?â
Your eyes flashed, stomach burning in anticipation. âQuiet.â
His surprised chuckle caught in his throat as you sucked on the soft skin of his jaw, pressing hard into bone and sweaty skin. Your teeth grazed the spot as you tilted your head to look back up at him. You did like him like this- at least better than usual. You couldnât say you actually enjoyed being around him⌠but you guess this was tolerable.
Especially when he was touching you like that.
Steveâs slim fingers were suddenly strong against your waist, slipping under your shirt and sliding yourself closer down his thighs. Breath hitching across his cheek, you faltered in your ministrations. He took that opportunity to duck his head and push you away from his neck, slotting his mouth against yours.
Damn it.
The moan you let out was embarrassing. Mortifying. Especially because Steve had been the one to wrench it out of you. Cheeks aflame, you shuddered at your battling emotions. You hated this guy- you didnât like him and you didnât want to be around him. You knew he felt the same way.
But?
But he was really good at this. Ridiculously so. You liked- doing whatever this thing was- so much that you hated him just a bit more for it.
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