steve harrington is a total slime. (x reader)

2

The sound of the heavy front door slamming shut woke you from your sleep, just in time for your alarm clock to go off. Rubbing your eyes, you fumbled around trying to shut off the source of the annoying blaring. After a minute or two of wildly flailing your arm around, you eventually hit the snooze button, snuggling back into bed before your eyes shot wide with recognition: you had a history test this morning that you desperately needed to study for.

You quickly hopped out of bed, fumbling through your closet and frantically looking for clothes that you deemed decent enough to wear for the day. You didn't have anyone to impress, so you just threw on the first t-shirt you saw and ran out of your room.

"Dustin!" You yelled as you rushed past your brother's door. "Breakfast!" The kitchen didn't have much in it, but after some scavenging you found a box of pop tarts, ripping open the shiny foil and sticking one in your mouth. You threw the other one onto the counter, shoving everything into your bag as your brother walked into the kitchen.

"Woah, what's the rush?" He looked at you for a second before his eyes landed on the poptart left out on the counter, grabbing it and immediately taking a bite out of it. "Earth to Y/N? Hello?" He spoke through a mouthful of blueberry pastry, crumbs spitting out of his mouth.

You were too preoccupied with getting your shit together to hear him. "Dusty, have you seen my history textbook?" You were searching every corner of your living room. You could've sworn you just had it. It wasn't like you to lose things so easily.

"The one you pretended to look at during our campaign?"

"Yeah, that one-" You realize you had left it when you rushed out of the Wheelers' house. "Aw, shit." You groaned, facepalming. Wait a second- you could just ask Nancy to bring it to school today. You rushed over to the telephone in the wall, quickly dialing the Wheeler household.

"Joyce?" A worried sounding Karen Wheeler picked up.

"No, sorry, it's Y/N. Can you tell Nancy to bring me my textbook to school? I left it in the basement-"

"Yes, but- have you seen Will? Apparently he's not at home. He's not here either, did he spend the night with Dustin?"

You froze. Will was definitely not with you guys. And if he wasn't at home, or with Mike, then where was he? You bit your lip, your gaze wandering over to the TV. The daily morning news was on, the anchor talking about a recent surge of outages or something- you weren't really listening.

"Hello? Y/N?"

Brought back to reality, you realized you hadn't responded yet. "No, no, he's not here. He's probably at school or something." Dustin was looking at you curiously, trying to figure out what was going on.

"Okay, well, have a nice day-" You hung up before Mrs. Wheeler could respond. Your brother was immediately standing up, wanting to know about the weird sounding call he only got to hear one side of. "What happened?"

You frowned. Did you really need to worry Dustin about this? After all, what if Will really was just at school? You didn't want your brother to worry, so you lied. "Nothing." He opened his mouth to protest, but you cut him off before he could. "Let's go."

The car ride to Hawkins Middle School was tense but thankfully short. Basically white-knuckling the steering wheel, you forgot about Will for the time being as you desperately tried to rack your brain for any remnants of the Russian history you skimmed the day before. You dropped your brother off without a word, and he ran over to his group of friends- that, weirdly, didn't include Will. Not that you'd noticed, though, since you had already parked and run into the high school without so much as a second glance in the direction your brother went.

The high school hallways were almost deserted as you walked in, quickly spotting Nancy at her locker. She was talking to Barb, a tall girl with huge glasses and short red hair that you didn't really know that well. A small part of you instinctively disliked her, because Nancy had recently started spending way less time with you and way more time with her. Forcing a smile, you walked over to the two.

"Hey Nance, hey Barb." Nancy held out your textbook without so much as looking at you, continuing her conversation with Barb as if you weren't there. You weren't gonna lie, that stung a bit, but whatever. You had a test to study for, so you didn't have time to feel bad.

"Well, uh." You fumbled with your words for a second, not even sure that the girls were listening to you. They seemed a lot more invested in the torn note in Nancy's hands than they were in you.

"...Thanks. Later." You quickly turned around, hugging the heavy book close to your chest as you made your way to first period.

You sighed as you sunk into your seat. The desk in question, one of those weird ones where the chair and the table are attached, was situated in the back left corner of the room. You always chose the seats in the back, careful not to draw the unwanted attention of any assholes who got bored.

"Harrington. You're late."

Oh, great. Speaking of assholes, here comes King Steve.

"Maybe everyone else is just early." He smiles that stupid smile of his, before sitting down next to his other asshole friends.

The comment gets a good chuckle from the class and a stern look from Dawson. You shake your head and quickly scan the cramped pages of your history textbook, the words all blurring together as the reality sets in that you are, in fact, so totally screwed on this test.

A paper airplane landed on your desk. Sighing, you unfurled it to read the writing that looked suspiciously similar to the writing on the note in Nancy's locker from earlier.

I wouldn't worry too much about studying. You can always just suck Dawson's dick to get an A+ anyway, right?

Crumpling up the paper, you tried to turn your attention back to Stalin and Lenin. Instead of focusing on dictators, however, your mind wandered to a certain dick.

It's not that you didn't like Steve.

It's that you hated him.

You were friends once- back in elementary school. Best friends, actually. The playground had never seen such a pair like the infamous Steve and Y/N. And it never would again. Nothing and no one ever would again, because as soon as you stepped foot into Hawkins Middle School, Steve ditched you for a stupid royal title.

Maybe it wouldn't hurt so bad if he just ignored you. If he just pretended like you didn't exist, instead of the constant crude jokes and snide remarks he made to make his friends laugh. But it hurt. A lot. You were used to it now, though.

Shaking your head as if to clear your thoughts like an Etch-a-Sketch, you slammed you textbook close with more force than intended before shoving it in your bag. Apparently the sound was louder than you thought it was, because when you looked back up, most of the class had turned around to look at you. So much for not drawing attention.

You angrily locked eyes with Steve, who smirked and opened his mouth- only to get cut off by Dawson, who asked the class to clear their desks.

Hating Steve could wait. You had a test to fail.