#Steve Harrington is dense | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

steddiealltheway · 1 year ago

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"You're dead, Harrington!"

Steve sprints off down the hall, making a sharp left turn in hopes of losing him. He looks around at the doors, eyes settling on the drama room. Yeah, no one would guess that he would go in there.

He runs and easily pulls the door open, softly closing it behind him, leaning against the door to listen for Billy.

"You can't run from me!" he yells, somewhere outside in the hallway.

Shit.

Steve backs up a bit until he runs into something, and suddenly there's a hand covering his mouth with rings digging into his cheek while a bit of silver glints in his eyes. "Don't freak out, Harrington. I'm here to help. Hide behind the red curtain."

The guy lets him go, and Steve whips around taking in the guy everyone calls "The Freak." He just raises his eyebrows at him, so Steve takes the hint and darts behind the red curtains behind a throne of some kind.

There's a slight creaking, then Steve hears the door swing open and slam against the wall.

"Billy Hargrove. I didn't know you were interested in theatre," the freak says smugly. Eddie? That's his name, right?

"I'm not," Billy grits out. "I'm looking for Harrington. Seen him anywhere, freak?"

"Why would he be in here?"

Steve hears heavy footsteps as he walks closer to the curtain. "That's not what I asked," Billy says darkly.

"Well, I answered, didn't I?" Eddie replies, voice low with an undertone of danger. Shit, Steve didn't know he had it in him. "If you're so dense, then let me clarify. I haven't seen him. Now get lost or you'll never find him before lunch is over."

There's a pause, and Steve is certain that a fight is about to break out. Only, nothing really happens until Billy says, "One day you're going to pay for that, freak."

"Looking forward to it," Eddie says sarcastically.

A few seconds later and the door closes. There's a click that sounds like the lock turning which has Steve peeking out of the curtain.

"You can come out now."

Steve steps outside the curtain slowly, making sure this isn't some sort of sick joke. But he doesn't think Billy is that much of a planner, he's too impulsive.

When he doesn't spot him, Steve says, "Thanks. It's Eddie, right?"

The other boy looks surprised and even gets a small smile on his face. "Yeah."

"I'm Steve," he introduces himself, sticking out his hand and everything.

He gets a scoff and a, "Yeah, I know," in response, but Eddie still takes his hand and shakes it.

"I like your rings," Steve says genuinely. They're cool really. He wishes he would wear something like that without his parents and teammates getting onto him about it.

"Thanks," Eddie says, pulling a bit of his hair in front of his hair. It's cute really, almost like he's flustered.

Huh. He'll unpack that thought later.

"How did you get Billy to back off like that? I've never seen anyone do that." He can't help but be in a bit of awe about the whole thing.

Eddie chuckles. "I supply his weed. He knows better than to hurt me."

"Mabe I should start selling him weed then."

Eddie laughs loudly, showing off his dimples. Steve can't help but smile back.

"Hey," Eddie says, making his way to the throne and sitting back. "What did you do to get him that riled up anyways?"

Steve groans and takes a seat at the table in front of Eddie. "I know his little sister, Max. I just asked him how she was doing, and he freaked out. I think he misunderstood my tone."

Eddie laughs again, and Steve starts to believe that maybe the whole thing was worth it to see the boy's smile.

A silence settles between them, but Steve doesn't mind. It gives him a chance to look at him more.

It must fluster Eddie again because he ducks his head down and shakes his head.

"What?" Steve can't help but ask.

Eddie looks back at him. "Nothing, I just can't believe that Steve Harrington is sitting at my D and D table."

D&D... "Oh, that's like Dungeons and Dragons, right?"

Eddie's jaw drops. "You know what Dungeons and Dragons is?"

Steve shrugs. "My friend plays it, but he's in middle school, so you wouldn't know him. But hey, that's where the demogorgan thing comes from, right?"

Eddie continues to stare at him in disbelief mumbling something under his breath like He's friends with middle schoolers, and he knows what a demogorgan is. What the hell? Am I dreaming? He shakes his head and says clearly, "Yeah, yeah, that's where the Demogorgan comes from."

Another silence settles between them, and Steve doesn't know why he says it but he asks, "So, do you have a girlfriend?"

Once again, it looks like Eddie is about to have a meltdown, but Steve stands his ground. He's curious really.

Eddie shifts in his seat a bit uncomfortably before quietly asking, "Haven't you heard the rumors?"

Steve leans back in his seat and scratches his face absentmindedly. He's heard about "The Freak" before, but he didn't really pay much attention. He knows he sells weed. He failed senior year once or twice, he forgot how many times people said. And he once heard that he's a...

Oh.

"So, do you have a boyfriend then?"

Eddie freezes, fear evident all over his tense body.

"It's fine if you do," Steve assures him.

Eddie runs both his hands over his face and questions out loud, "Am I dreaming?"

"Do you dream about me often?" Steve flirts, leaning forward on the table. He can't help it, he likes how affected Eddie is by him.

Eddie looks at him for a solid fifteen seconds, tongue running over his top lip and brows furrowed in deep thought. He relaxes against his chair with a sigh. "You're not at all what people say you are."

Steve shrugs, uncomfortable that the topic has turned to be about him. "I try not to be."

"It's a good thing," Eddie says.

Steve smiles. He didn't know how much he needed to hear that.

The bell rings, and Steve feels a pang of disappointment.

"Hey," Eddie says as he stands up alongside Steve. He reaches into his black metal lunchbox and pulls out a sandwich in a little bag and a banana. He tears the sandwich in half and offers it to Steve along with the banana. "It isn't much, but I doubt you ate lunch. Have to keep all our star players in shape, right?" he asks with a wink.

Steve wishes he could stay longer to see him relax more. He takes them both, unpeeling the banana quickly while asking, "Is that weed in there?"

"Among other things."

Steve laughs and takes a large bite of the banana that has Eddie looking away, turning a light shade of red. Now he really wishes he could stay longer.

He finishes his bite and says, "Hey, it was really nice to meet you by the way."

"You too," Eddie says with a soft smile, finally looking back at him.

The warning bell rings.

Steve sighs. "I'll see you around, and hey, pass on a word to the next D and D leader about Dustin Henderson, will you?"

"Will do," Eddie says, and Steve's glad that it sounds like a promise.

He heads to the door and unlocks it quickly, pausing to rush back and press a soft kiss on Eddie's cheek. "Thank you again," he says before rushing out of the room with his heart pounding and a blush spreading over his face.

He can't help but think that he should thank Billy for being such an asshole.

#steddie #eddie munson #steve harrington #stranger things #steddie ficlet

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sidekick-hero · 6 months ago

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(steddie | 483 words | teen | tags: childhood friends | @steddiemicrofic prompt "stuff")

Steve is seven when he runs away from home.

It's the end of his first year at Hawkins Elementary. His report card says his reading is below grade level and that he needs to improve over the summer. Steve doesn't mind practicing reading, but he's afraid his parents will be angry.

So he packs his little backpack and leaves. His little legs carry him through the woods behind the Harrington estate. The sun is still warm and bright, but soon it gets dark in the dense woods and Steve starts to feel scared. What if there are bears? He saw some on the Nature Channel; they could eat him in one giant bite.

Or worse, what if there are monsters?

Whimpering, his legs speed up until he almost runs.

He barrels into a boy playing at the edge of the woods, both of them falling to the ground with a loud oomph.

"What did you do that for?" the boy demands, looking at Steve with big brown eyes.

"I didn't mean to. I was running from the monsters."

"Monsters?" the boy asks in alarm. "Where?"

Steve points behind him. "In the woods. They would have eaten me!"

They both scramble to their feet and look to where Steve came from.

There are no monsters, but they agree that this doesn't mean anything. Monsters are sneaky.

"Wanna go to my place and play?" The boy suddenly asks Steve. "There are no monsters, just Wayne. He's, like, super nice."

Steve looks at the boy's dark, unruly curls that would make his mother huff, and thinks he likes how wild they look.

"Yeah," he agrees, and then, remembering his manners, holds out his hand. "I'm Steve."

Eddie looks doubtful, but takes it. "I'm Eddie," he says, pumping Steve's hand exaggeratedly, which makes Steve giggle.

They play for hours until Eddie's uncle, who is super nice, asks him when his parents are picking him up. It doesn't take much nudging to get Steve to spill the beans. Wayne assures him his parents won't be mad and that they are probably worried sick.

When he leaves Eddie's room to call them, Steve looks at his new friend with sad eyes.

"I don't wanna go. What if the monsters catch me?"

Eddie looks back at him with equally sad eyes but then straightens his little shoulders and picks up a stuffed dragon.

"You can have Sir Lancelot. He protects me from bad dreams; he can protect you from monsters."

They hug for a long time as Steve's parents arrive to take him home, Sir Lancelot safely in Steve's arms.

Years later, Eddie wakes up in a hospital bed to find Sir Lancelot lying on his chest, watching over him, while Steve sleeps in a chair next to him.

Protected by his dragon and his knight in shining armor, he closes his eyes and lets sleep take over once more.

#steddie #steddie drabble #steddie fic #steve harrington x eddie munson #my writing

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wroteclassicaly · 7 months ago

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Summary: A confession leads to unexpected heartbreak.

18+

Warnings: Language, smut, hurt/no comfort, one sided feelings, heartbreak, angst GALORE, self-esteem issues, mentions Steve’s past head trauma, insecurities on both sides, jealous Steve, mentions Nancy, best-friend!Reader w/ best-friend!Steve, and friends to lovers. This one hurts, folks!

Pairings: Steve Harrington x Female Reader

Word count: 3,985

A/N: No banner for this! Just some raw writing I did early into the hours of this morning/night, adding on some today. I wanted to try something different, so enjoy!

Note: Also posting this the day after I wrote it. Okay, lmaooooo.

“I love you, Steve.”

The words come easy to you, the courage taking years to build. But once they leave your mouth as you’re cradling his neck’s nape, playing with the chocolate curls that have grown out there, you cannot figure out why you wasted time not saying it. It’s been an ongoing thing between you two — a two year thing, in fact. Never any pushing for labels, no exclusivity. You were patient, he was giving, and you assumed you were both reading on the same page.

In a few minutes, however, you’d find out how very wrong that you were. You wished that your mouth and your legs had stayed closed around your best-friend, Steve Harrington.

It was a typical weekday, no dates planned, acting as if his last date hadn’t upset you, or that you enjoyed the one you forced yourself to go on with some guy, so that your feelings weren’t completely obvious. Sidenote: to mostly everyone but Steve, they kinda were. Steve had called you after your shift at the local Burger King, asking if you wanted to come over and spend the night. Not unusual. You always trade spending nights, rolling around on various surfaces, before enjoying breakfast together.

Intimate, casual, perfect.

Your answer was an automatic yes. A quick shower after work for you, a return phone call, and he’d gotten in his BMW, picked up some takeout, went to your door to get you, held your hand to the car, opened your damned door, and the dessert had been him between your thighs. This night in particular, it was one of pent up frustrations and desperations that had just one satiable cure. You ended up on top of Steve, his back pressed into the headboard, mutual clothes scattered all over his bed.

His shoulders became leverage, his massive palms spread out on either side of your waist, pinching the plush skin into his palming grip. Nose dusting across a defined nose bridge, caught in a cheekbone, with kisses rushed, deep, sloppily trying to stay focussed, but driven to reach that place buried inside one another.

Steve’s thighs provide a platform for you to sit upon, ankles locked around his back. He’s slippery with sweat, places you’d like to lick clean. You pull back from your cove to say it again, unable to stop yourself, going in for a kiss. You don’t think he heard, he’s humble sometimes, disbelieving in others. One hand cups his jaw, the other staying put to card through his hair, moisture pooling between your fingers.

“Hey? You still with me, big guy? I said I love you.” You’re smiling softly, thumbpad caressing his jawline. You feel it twitch, his shoulders tense.

Is he gonna cum? You know the signs. “Steve?” Something in your guts feels a little off. You ignore it.

“I know what you said. I heard you say it the first time.” He interrupts, tries to remain impassive, his hips slowing from your combined movements.

Like salt in the wound, a fresh slap to the face. No way.

“You heard me say that I love you?” You have to try one more time. He’s been hit in the head a lot, maybe he didn’t get it? He couldn’t have, right? Are you really this stupid, this dense?

You attempt to kiss him, to lay it all down through your actions, rather than your words this time, but your mouth doesn’t get the chance to meet him.

His lids flutter closed, he sighs, his face leaving yours, hands lifting off your body to wrap around your wrists, slowly untangling them from his neck. “Stop, alright?”

You feel your heart rate accelerate, your body tensing, your throat is choked with a teary panic, a bulldozer driving across your organs, settling atop you with its weight. Every single wall you still have built, they slowly shake off their cobwebs to rise from the dust, smothering you in the smoke. And he’s suddenly a very tight fit, to the point where you’re wincing, body immediately wanting, trying to push him out. He notices, one hand dropping to the side of your face. “Hey, hey. Hon —“ He stops himself, lets your nickname drop, falling back into your regular name.

He isn’t sure who that action hurts the most.

One look at your vacant expression and Steve feels as if he’s been sucker punched, that he’s the meanest version of himself he’s ever been.

He’s still inside of you, you let him into your body, you told him a sacred set of words. And this is what he’s doing to you? Hurting you to the point where your body starts to get frightened? But he couldn’t just come while you poured your heart out, he couldn’t continue like his world was normal anymore. He reaches down to wrap around his base, face wrinkling, teeth gritting. You’re so fucking tight that it hurts, his cock aches for you when he eases his way outward, dragging combined essences with him. “Let me just…” He starts, deep voice a rocky, rasp, finishing when his length is gone from your body, dripping with you onto his sheets, covering him.

Once he’s out, you’re already passed the point of overwhelming vulnerability. Your legs clamp closed, your hands cover your chest, unwillingly to wrap yourself in his damn sheet that smells like home to you. Steve is unsteady on his feet, halfway hard, but slowly softening at your nearly curled position. You aren’t looking at him, you won’t, you cannot. It’s not safe right now, because if you do, it’ll all come apart and it won’t stop. Steve is on overload in his own head, eyes sparkling, tears matted into his lash-line.

He has to breathe through his nose when he says it. It’s wrong, it’s so fucking wrong. But he’s helpless, he can’t take this environment, he wants to run from you, from your words.

“I’ll, uh. I’ll, uhm… I can take you home if you get dressed.”

He’s blinking away blurry vision as he catches your wounded, tear fogged expression the moment that he’s snatching his boxers and jeans off the bed, and making for the bedroom door. He shuts it and leaves you to re-cloth yourself in silence. It’s honestly deafening, you’re not sure how you manage. Revealing your body to his room, to his scent, pictures on his wall, various trinkets, but not him. You’re shaking as you put on piece by piece of fabric, dreading having to see him.

Your hand hovers over the door, giving several pauses before you open it. You step out onto the deep carpet, plush across your feet, mashed against your toes. He’s nowhere in sight. And you remember that he took his clothing, so he’s probably getting re-dressed.

Fuck this. It’s in your brain on broadway lights, body in flight mode. You’re heading down the staircase and snatching your shoes up by the entryway, forgetting your purse in his room. You don’t care anymore, you have to get out of here, this place closing in on you like a funhouse. You shut the door as quietly as you can, then you’re sprinting down the Harrington’s driveway.

Is it dramatic? Yeah. Oh-fucking-well, you’re running on adrenaline so your body doesn’t feel the disgusting agony that’s slowly eating its way through your insides. You get about halfway and you hear footsteps approaching at high rates, your name being chanted. Steve is at your side in seconds, breathless.

“Shit, you scared me. Why the hell did you leave like that?”

Your eyes widen to give him an incredulous look, and that’s when the tears escape, rolling down your cheeks. Steve sees your disheveled state next. No purse, no shoes. Your blouse is halfway hanging off your shoulder. It’s an automatic instinct, his fingers brushing underneath the fabric, dragging across your skin as he pulls up to secure it.

You want to flinch away, but you don’t. Hurt settles in his brows. He’s fucking incredible with that question. “You aren’t wearing your shoes. You can’t leave my house like this.”

Autopilot flies in to protect you, leveling off everything else that you could say or do. There’s no anger, there’s no sorrow, there’s nothing. And that’s what scares him the most when you say, “I just wanna go home.”

He can’t stand it anymore, his natural urge to protect your safety, has him wrapping you in his arms. You still smell like his bed, like him, like love making left unfinished. Your arms remain clutched to your chest. No reaction.

He says it out loud, unknowing if he means it to you or just to himself. “We should’ve never started having sex.”

A mistake. You’re his mistake. Not his biggest. Not even a real regret.

Steve Harrington has only ever loved one girl. He’s only ever regretted one loss. He even cared more for Robin before he even went to you. Are you even pretty enough, or does he just like you because you’re friends and he’s horny, or searching for something? You’re not it, not even a morsel.

And it doesn’t matter what you say, what you do, how you feel. You’ll be stuck with that, while Steve clings to whatever he truly wants. Now you’ve lost what you’ve built with him, destroyed his safe place by becoming a cliche. He doesn’t deserve your one sided feelings.

The wheels are spinning in your head, but Steve still sees nothing in your responses, nor your reception. So he lifts his keys from his pocket to respect your wishes, his chest on fire with an acidic inferno, his head clouded with pain far worse than anything he’s ever experienced, his skull echoing with what his brain has just endured. You walk to his car without sparing a glance, feet still bare. He swallows and it just feels like piles of broken glass. He can do nothing but do what you asked of him.

He drives you to your house in silence. Steve Harrington has been sure of one thing in two years, and that’s always been you. But as he pulls up to your house, you’re climbing from his car before he can put it in park, your voice hauntingly, desperately hollow. “I’m sorry I ruined everything.”

And you leave him, the levee going to break once you’re through your front door, pain in between your legs to remind you the next morning before your mind does. His nose crinkles, his fingers pinching, a thin line of snot trailing out. Steve wants to say to you that it’s him who has ruined it all. That he’s so scared of those words, that he doesn’t understand how someone could love him, so he can’t let your words sink in, can’t consciously reciprocate. A coward who won’t let himself feel your declaration.

Steve Harrington’s brain, however, knows the truth.

~*~

Waking up the next morning had been a reality that neither you, nor Steve were prepared to handle. You pretty much cried yourself to sleep, whilst Steve held onto your purse and paced his floor until his feet verged on rug burn, tears blurring his vision. When he finally did lay down, his alarm went off two hours later. He woke to your scent all over his bed, still covering him, lingering even as he showered, especially in his car on the way to the store. The same car that things have happened in, and the very one that he dumped you off like trash last night, after what you’d gone through to tell him the extent of your feelings. He wasn’t functioning on a full level from the second he pulled into the parking lot.

~*~

You could still feel him, your body sore, brain picking up seconds after you opened your eyes, toes hitting the blush rug underneath your bed. Your sclera was bloodshot, burning, clouding over as you passed by pictures of you with Steve, and quite a few you’d taken of him solo, that you had on the corkboard above your desk. You’d deal with taking everything down later, unsure what you would be doing with the items. Forgoing breakfast was a given, your stomach in knots. Showering went painfully fast, leading you right into putting on your work uniform.

You barely made it three hours into your shift, headache, heartache going head to head, and your boss had noticed your discomfort, gently releasing you for the day. Only one person made everything better, but that was no longer an option. Your confession sets you free, backfiring what type of freedom you wanted to occur. It was eleven o’clock when you dock yourself into Family Video’s parking lot, relieved Steve was on his normal lunch hour. Even if you can spend time with Robin, it will help.

You can hurry, you don’t have to see his face.

Fate has other plans.

You’re helping Robin unpack some candy shipments when his car pulls in about half an hour early. She could tell you weren’t feeling your best, so that’s why she’d assumed you didn’t want a male presence around. You’re honestly shocked she hasn’t clocked Steve as the mystery man she’s known about the past two years.

“Don’t worry,” she says, upon seeing your soured, slightly fearful expression. “It’s just our doofus. He’s been in a brooding mood today, probably why he’s back early.”

A mood? So you have ruined it all.

You nod, forcing yourself to stay put, immediately gaining on deep breathing. At least you don’t shake when you begin to alphabetize the candy. You can hear her greet Steve before he even gets a word in. She snatches some kind of paper bag, that you assume he brought back for her — away, rifling through its contents as she speaks.

“Dingus, you still have that bottle of Tylenol in your car?”

Steve’s heart is in his throat, wrapping him tighter than Vecna’s hive minds did. He gives a silent yes, head trying to lean around a few shelves. Fuck. Of course that was your car out front, he wasn’t just imagining shit. He’s hopeful, anxious. What are you here for? Who?

“Good. Can you go get it, please? She doesn’t feel good and she’s been helping me all morning.”

Immediate worry doesn’t cover it. You’re here and not at work, and you’re sick? Steve snaps out of what trance he’s in, eyes pinching closed and he nods rapidly. “Shit, yeah. I’ll go get it. Here, Robs. Can you take my water to her?” He hands off his half drank bottle without question, moving back outside to get the medicine.

It’s funny, the look on your face as Robin presents you with his drink. You all share off of one another all the time. She places the food bag beside her, to which you politely decline her offer for some. Doesn’t matter if you haven’t eaten, you can’t.

“I know he has cooties, but I think we’re safe.” She shoulder bumps you, trying to get a smile. When you barely lift your mouth, she goes into her version of mom mode. It dawns on her and it comes from her mouth without tact.

“Wait, is this about that mystery guy who took your virginity? The one you’ve been seeing for two years? Holy shit, did he finally commit?”

If Robin couldn’t tell how you felt about Steve, or see anything from his part, then you guess it’s true.

There’s nothing to see.

You can feel your rib cage gape open, heart falling into your ass, strangled by your intestines.

Luckily, Steve has perfect timing, appearing right in earshot as Robin reveals information you never told him. The room feels small, you feel as if you could melt into the floor, non-existent. Would it matter? You are starting to think love controls everything, after all. You’re fucking doomed.

He lets his Nikes carry him forward, bottle of Tylenol in his massive hand. He’s starting to tremble, betrayal etched into his mouth, giving away what Robin now feels stupid for not knowing. It all clicks when your moods are matched, your mixed reactions combining.

“Oh. Oh, holy fuck. I’m…” She looks at her best-friend, who is halfway seething to near sobbing, and at you, who cannot look her in the eyes. “Shit, I should’ve known. Why didn’t I know? Fuck. I’ll give you two a minute —“

“Steve?” Your voice is tinged with something, one that has him slightly elated that you’re vocal, and even more pissed at you. He waits, his tongue caught in his throat, about to ask you, but you’re adding on. “May I have two Tylenols please?” Standing on your feet right after.

He’s like a fucking statue, on autopilot, unmoving this time. Robin rises, plucks the bottle gently, shaking out two and drops them into your hand, handing the container back to Steve, ultimately giving his water to you. She mouths an apology, but you’re smiling a tacky, forced grin that looks as if it’s pinching your lips. She’s bound to be upset you both neglected to tell her. Keeping your mouth shut should’ve been the reverse way.

“I’ll call you tonight, Robs. I’m sorry, okay?”

“Hey.” She stops you before you can step back to leave, wrapping her arms around you, maroon coated lips by your ear. “I don’t have a foot fetish, but I really should’ve kept the entirety of my own in there to avoid this.”

That gets you laughing softly, and you don’t look at Steve as you depart from her arms and for your car. He’s still frozen.

Robin does, though, stares right through him. She can see how much he’s hurting. She doesn’t want to judge either side, so she simply reaches up to rub along between his shoulder blades. “If you need to —“

“I’ll be right back.” His eyes are trained on your retreating form, handing her the pills as he follows you.

“That works too!” She points a finger in his direction, sighing. Is everyone else onto this, or is she just off her game?

~*~

You’ve just barely downed the pills, tasting Steve’s cinnamon breath spray, combined with his morning coffee all around the lid of his water. You chug it fast, your back still turned to the front door. That’s when the dumbass little bell rings, slapping back against the door, and his voice comes into play.

“You can taste my mouth on that, right?”

You remain non-verbal. This angers him to the point he steps close enough that you can smell his cologne and aftershave. His tone shatters, emotion bleeding through. “Because friends share things with one another.”

“Well, friends sure as hell don’t fuck!” It snaps free of your mouth, shocking the both of you, plastic crinkling in your hands. Your head is hurting, between your thighs is aching, and you’re positive that a piece of your chest has been carved out.

He’ll always have that, whether he wants it or not.

“They don’t lie about being a virgin, either! They don’t say that it’s been a while when they’re in pain and I’m fucking asking what’s wrong the first time that we have sex! If I would have known, then it would’ve been—”

“Wouldn’t have happened, so I didn’t build some little attachment to you, right?”

Steve visibly recoils.

“Is that really what you thought of me? That I was still that big of an asshole? Because we were already pretty attached. I did everything with you, you practically lived at my house.”

“If you didn’t have a date. Maybe it was just sex, me and you. Still doesn’t answer if you found me attractive. Probably just biased because you were my friend.” Word vomit. Too late to stop now.

Steve mulls over the meaning of were. Past tense? Does it apply to current?

His hands go onto his hips, a sidestep, and he turns back to look at you in astonishment, having to swipe aggressively at the wetness in his eyes. He doesn’t even know where to begin with everything you just said. His brain is screaming to tell you that no, he’s always found you fucking beautiful. That he would have preferred you over all of those dates, or any that he’s ever had for that matter. But he’s so confused about letting anything in, his tongue becomes tied, only able to get out one lame question. “Why didn’t you ever tell me any of this?”

When your gaze flickers up, you see he’s snarling, but there’s tears clouding his vision. You’re a little lighter in how you speak to him, dismantling your armor. “Because I didn’t want you to think I was a loser, I didn’t want our first time to be about that, I didn’t think you would want to… I didn’t mean to — I’m sorry, Steve.”

He marvels. You really thought that? Did he not express his care for you?

“I would’ve made it better for you. Fuck, were you even okay after it happened?”

His moral compass is extraordinary nowadays, and it does make you hesitant, but you let your fingers cup his cheek. “It was the best. You were the best. I wanted it to happen with you. And it’s something that I would never take back.”

Your teeth start to chatter, your own tears forming. You want to console further, to wipe away his. But you start to let your hand slip. Steve catches it, holding your fingers in his palm, wrapping his digits around to lace. His deep voice drags along each syllable, crooked and wet with emotion. “Please let me hold you before you leave?”

And god, do you want to. You’ve never needed anything more. But if you let him… You just refuse to put yourself into that place right now. You shake your head, replacing your hand with his water bottle. His tongue pokes at his cheek, he shakes his head, attempting to argue. He closes his fist around the plastic.

“I meant what I said last night. And I realize that I ruined everything, Steve.” He can’t speak, why isn’t he able to disagree, why is it like he’s drowning, running in slow motion?

“I just don’t know if it can be repaired.” By the time you slide into your car, hand over your face, arm propped to your steering wheel, body heavy into your seat, Steve finds himself worked up to the point that he can’t bear to be around you, he can’t watch this, his figure pivoting, and he returns straight into the store, booking it to the break room.

~*~

After you’ve cried for what feels like forever, embarrassing yourself, light headed with guilt, you don’t end up driving yourself home, unable to do it in this state. You make your way to a pay phone to call Nancy. How fucking ironic. What’s worse, is that she can’t make it, you find out, as Jonathan Byers pulls up in her station wagon, letting you know that she’s sorry, but she got a call back to her job. You assure him it’s fine, grateful another friend is here, at least, joining him.

He doesn’t press you. But he knows. He’s one of them that pegged it from the start, he and Nance both.

“You okay?” Is his gruff question.

“Yeah, I just have to go home.”

He says nothing else. But what neither of you see, is Steve Harrington, as he’s just getting to the doorway, regretting his decision to not go back once he realized you didn’t leave, unable to stand you being that upset and not trying to do something (if he could) — watching the affection Jonathan Byers extends your way, and your rejection of any reluctance to accept it. His amber eyes are smoldering, his fist clenched, every muscle rigid, heart rate firing off rapid shots.

“Steve…” Robin tries, folding in beside him, seeing his dismissal of logic, his brain switching, latching onto primal panic. “You’re at work, remember? Video tapes, acne covered boss?”

But he’s throwing off his vest in response and striding towards his car, ignoring her pleas.

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astermath · 9 months ago

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hiya! i’m a really big fan of your stranger things work and I was wondering, if youre comfortable of course, a steve x reader period imagine where reader tried to hide their period from Steve, but he finds out and is super fluffy and sweet about it? thank you!

HAHAH wow i have let this ask stew in my inbox since last year thats CRAZY im so sorry my dear,, i was going through old asks and i rlly like this prompt actually so here u go, i hope u enjoy!!!!

pairing: steve harrington x fem!reader

tags: established relationship, obv mentions of periods / menstruation, reader is referred to as female, steve being dense at first lol, regular sized font below!

wc: 1.4K

notes: while the reader in this fic is female, i am well aware not everyone who has a period is a girl, and not everyone who's a girl has a period!

Steve is one attentive boyfriend.

It’s the early stages of your relationship, the golden era, the honeymoon phase. And while you’re a still a bit nervous about it all, you couldn’t be happier, because he does it all right.

He knows your favourite snacks, what music you like, what makes you laugh, what makes you cry. He’s starting to figure out your ins and outs, and it’s almost crazy how quickly he’s catching on. You have no reason to feel judged by him at any point, he truly is comfort poured into the shape of a person.

So then why are you staring at your phone right now, struggling to dial his number and just tell him why you can’t make it to your date?

It’s not usually this bad, at least it hadn’t been for a while, so why now, of all moments, must you be forsaken to be terrorised by your period?

You bite your lip, laying flat onto your bed, hand over your lower stomach. It's right where the pain is just gnawing at you, just like the guilt is. But you know you’d feel even guiltier if you just stood him up, he doesn’t deserve that. You sit up, a tad slowly to save yourself from another cramp, and swallow your nerves for now.

“I’ll just… Tell him I’m sick. Yeah… Yeah I can do that.” You think to yourself.

The combination of his number had started to feel natural to your fingers now, unlike how anxiously you pressed the buttons the first time, triple checking before finally pressing call. You're triple checking again now, more so because you're not sure you can handle hearing the defeat in his voice when you tell him you can't make it.

The phone barely gets a moment to ring before he picks it up, and his all too familiar sweet voice comes through the device.

"Hey babe, everything okay over there?"

You pause a moment before replying. "How did you know it was me calling?"

"Lover's intuition." He chuckles, and it makes your heart flutter. It's not fair how easy it is for him to do that to you, but you enjoy it nonetheless. "So, what's going on?"

"I, uh..." God, getting the words out is like pulling teeth. But you'd rather die than let him think you just got cold feet about your movie date. "I'm really not feeling too well right now, Steve... I'm-- I'm so sorry, I'm gonna have to cancel for tonight." Your eyes are welling up with tears before he even gets a chance to reply, just imagining his pretty face losing its bright expression when hearing your unfortunate news.

"Oh," damnit, he does sound sad, "that's okay, uhm... Is there anything I can do? What kinda sick is it?"

Shit, he's gonna make you say it, isn't he? You know Steve is a mature guy, he knows about periods, knows how they work, but you've been told to suck it up and get on with it before... A part of you is still disappointed that you just can't.

"U-Uhm... It's more like, a stomach thing, I guess?" It's the best way you can put it for now, hoping it'll put his worries to rest.

"Okay, I see..." You can nearly hear him thinking, the subtle noise of bags being moved and a fridge being opened coming through the phone. "Uh, how aboouuut... I come over to yours, and we just watch a movie at home? I still got a couple of tapes we haven't gotten to, and I can bring some light snacks that won't upset your stomach too much."

The thought of Steve caring for you while you're sick sends a warm feeling through your entire body. God, how does he just keep getting better? But you can't lie to him, right? It's not like you're really sick, unless you count the curse of menstruation as a symptom.

Before you get a chance to explain, he's talking again, and by the ruckus in the background you can only guess he's rushing to grab all his stuff. "I'll be heading out in a bit, I'll stop by the corner store too, stay put for me alright? See ya in a bit!"

You're sure he didn't realize he wasn't letting you talk, but frankly, you probably couldn't even come up with a response on time anyways. Right now, you just have to worry about looking somewhat presentable, and maybe figure out a way to tell him you're not actually sick.

By the time you've brushed your hair and brushed some mascara onto your lashes, you're already hearing the doorbell. You just manage to pull a fresh shirt over your head, before stumbling down the stairs and stopping in front of the door. With a deep, loaded, sigh you open it, to reveal your boyfriend.

Hair messed up, plastic bag in hand, jacket haphazardly thrown on. He clearly rushed to be here, still panting a little, but in your eyes, he's the image of your guardian angel, your saviour in need.

Before either of you know it, you're crying again, your freshly applied mascara now leaving thin black streaks over your cheeks. Your hands go up to cover your face, embarrassed, not even sure why you're sobbing all of a sudden. The feelings just hit you like a freight train, rocking you before you even have a time to rationalize.

Steve's expression falters, the bag he had in hand dropping to the floor in an instant, stepping in closer so he can carefully wrap his arms around you and pull you to his chest. Not too tight, he doesn't want to startle you. He's a bit distraught; he's really only seen you cry at a sad movie scene before, so he's a bit unsure as to what's caught you to be so upset right now.

"I-I'm sorry..." you manage to mutter through your incoherent sobs and sniffs, effectively ruining the front of his shirt in the process.

"Hey, hey..." His big hands go up to your face, gently cupping your wettened cheeks as he looks into your teary eyes. Hell, the image of you is almost enough to make him break too. "What're you sorry for? You can't help it that you're sick, right?"

The reminder of your lie makes you want to break eye contact in shame, but it's hard to force yourself to lose sight of that soft, caring gaze of his.

"I," sniff, "I lied, I'm so sorry Steve, I-- I'm not sick, I just... I have..."

He watches you expectedly, not upset, just curious. You'd surely have your reasons if whatever caused you to cancel is making you this upset.

"I'm... I'm just on my period and it-- it hurts really bad, it's not even usually this bad, and I felt like I was overreacting and I feel so bad and--" Your ramble gets cut short by his chuckle, the same one that nearly caused you to melt over the phone earlier.

"W-Wha... Why are you laughing?" You're not sure if you should be happy or worried, you're already experiencing so much at once, it's hard to pick one emotion to feel.

"Nothing, it's just, well," he picks up the bag he dropped, opening it slightly to show the bars of chocolate, candy and your favorite chips inside. "I had a feeling."

The sight of it makes you snap out of your state of distress, and you can’t help but crack a smile through your tears. “Seriously? How?”

He shrugs, a sheepish smile adorning his face. “I told you, lover’s intuition.” He pulls you back to him and kisses your head. “There’s another bag in the car with chicken soup in case I was wrong.”

You both laugh, just hugging on your doorstep for a moment. You have to let it sink in, that maybe Steve just is that sweet and considerate of a guy.

“D’you wanna go inside, or does standing outside help with cramps?” He pulls back a little, and you fight the urge to poke him in the ribs for his sarcasm. You love it either way.

“Yeah, let’s go inside. We can watch When Harry Met Sally and I can cry my eyes out again. Sound good?”

“Sounds perfect.”

#tysm for the ask!#stevemath #steve harrington fic #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington #steve harrington stranger things #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x reader fluff #steve harrington x fem #steve harrington x fem!reader #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington writing #steve harrington blurb #steve harrington drabble #steve harrington comfort #serpentwithatardis #aster replies

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sp0o0kylights · 2 years ago

Text

Adopt a Jock Part 1

Part 2

Part 4

Shoutout to @bloomingconflagration for the title!!! And a HUGE thank you to everyone who left comments or gave suggestions!! I love you all you amazing, silly humans <3 <3

There comes a time during a long work shift were your average overworked and underpaid employee starts to think they’re hallucinating.

In Gareth’s case, it was when Steve Harrington walked through the doors of Palace Arcade, making a beeline right for him.

“Gareth?” Steve asked, like he was the one out of place. “What are you doing here?”

As if people just randomly stood behind the counter of retail and entertainment spaces with a nametag on.

You know, for fun.

With a great deal of restraint, Gareth managed to hold the sass back, instead opting for a far more polite; ‘I work here, Harrington. What are you doing here?”

Because no matter how much Hellfire had adopted Steve into its fold, Gareth could just not see the guy choosing to spend his free time at the local arcade.

Not of his own free will, anyway.

“Pick up duty.” Steve said, proving him right not even a second later.

“Of what?” Gareth asked, puzzled, right before Steve’s name was shouted in stereo.

A miniature stampede took place as several children proceeded to swarm him like oversized puppies, most of them trying to talk at once.

“One at a time, we talked about this!” Steve barked, loud enough to be heard over the commotion. “You’re giving me and Gareth here a headache!”

He waved his hands in a “calm down” gesture, shaking his head and looking at Gareth in exasperation. “Probably giving the people in the video store next door one too, lord.”

“Wait.” A curly-haired kid said, looking between the two older teens like he was watching the laws of the universe rewrite themselves in front of him. “You know Gary? How?”

“We are not close enough for you to call me Gary.” Gareth said dryly, for what felt like the fifteenth time that day.

This was a regular battle between him and the kids who haunted the arcade.

(One had overheard Grant call him Gary the last time he was in, and ever since, every single child that graced this fine establishment with Cheeto-dusted fingers and candy-induced sugar rushes had decided to replace his actual name with his nickname.

The fact it clearly frustrated him only egged them on. )

“We go to school together Dustin,” Steve said, as if he were talking to someone particularly dense.

“Yeah? You go to school with lots of people. You bitch about most of them.” Dustin fired back.”Plus Gary’s a total nerd. I bet you call him names.”

"Hey, language!"

Gareth’s eyes narrowed as he glared down at the little fucker. He was definitely going to remember Dustin (and equally going to watch and see what arcade games the younger teen played-- and top the score chart of every single fucking one.

He might be a nerd but he wasn’t gonna take that shit from a middle schooler.)

“Hate to break it to you brats, but your babysitter here just joined our D&D club.” Gareth replied, if only to finally one-up the little bastards. “Our DM is building him a character as we speak.”

(Which wasn't even a lie. Eddie was building a character for Steve. The guy just refused to give any input on grounds that he "wasn't going to play anyways." )

Abrupt and sudden silence, as several stunned faces stared at him.

“Oh goddammit.” Harrington cursed, as the entire herd of children turned on him in unison like some kind of hivemind horror monster.

“You joined the D&D club,” Dustin said slowly, outraged. “And you let them make you a character sheet, but you won’t play with us!?”

“What the hell Steve!” The sporty-looking one whined, clearly hurt. “You won’t sit in on our games! You said they were lame!”

“They are lame.” Steve defended immediately, pushing at sporty-kids head. It was fond though, the kind of gentle shove an elder brother gave to a younger one. It caused the kid's camo banana to fall into his eyes, which he adjusted quickly with a grumble. “Turns out the high school version’s cooler.”

“He’s lying.” That from the bitchy one, whose arms were crossed over his chest, a glare on his face. “Steve probably paid Gary to say that”

Gareth had seen that exact same stance on Steve at lunch that day, and wondered if the little asshole knew who he was copying when he did it.

“Who cares about D&D?” This from the redhead, standing with another girl giggling in her ear. “I’m just amazed Steve has friends.”

“Really Mayfield?” Steve said, looking almost betrayed. As if he thought she was going to be the one to defend him in this weird little showdown.

The girl leaning on her giggled harder, making Mayfield grin (even if she tried to hide it.) She whispered something, which the redhead outright laughed at before repeating; “Adult friends even!”

“Okay.” Steve said, clearly cutting the kids off before they could embarrass him further. “Thank you, unwanted peanut gallery, for all of that lovely commentary. Now go back to playing the games you little shits robbed me of all my quarters for, or we’re leaving.”

Henderson’s eyes narrowed. “I thought you were here to pick us up?”

“Oh I’m sorry, did Jonathan magically appear behind me in the last five seconds?” Steve turned around pretending to search the parking lot through the windows. “No? Then I guess we’re still waiting. Unless you, Lucas and Max want to leave first.”

“You’re such an ass.” Dustin huffed, rolling his eyes. “Why aren’t you waiting in the car anyway?”

“It’s raining, it’s cold, and I thought I’d come in to say hi to my friend.” Steve replied, so quickly it took Gareth a moment to realize what Steve referred to him as.

He'd gotten the friend title before Eddie.

His best friend was going to fucking freak.

“Are you done drilling me or are you going to let Max kick your ass at DigDug again?”

“Shit!” Henderson cursed, spinning to intercept the redhead as she bent to put a coin in said arcade machine. “Max, you said you’d let me keep my leaderboard score today! Max!”

“I know you said you watched kids, but this wasn’t exactly what I was imagining.” Gareth said, slumping against the counter.

(He'd been thinking of Steve watching much younger kids for one, and two, he was starting to get the idea the babysitter thing was used as an insult.

Gareth knew a big brother vibe when he saw it.)

Steve gave him a tired look. “Me neither man. Me neither.”

Then; “You fucking owe me for that D&D comment, they’re never going to shut up about it now.”

Gareth winced. “Sorry. I was trying to help.”

Steve blew out a breath. “I know. I appreciate the attempt.”

Which was better than Steve bitching at him for it, not that he’d really ever done that to Gareth.

The two of them hadn’t quite worked up the nerve to be playful like that with each other, though they had occasionally jumped in on opposing sides to arguments Eddie caused. Gareth figured they’d get there in time, but even with all the progress Steve made, he still had more off days than on.

It was a fragile line to walk with him. Especially when there wasn’t a single member of Hellfire who wanted to ruin the progress they made.

(Even if half of them would never admit to it.)

“Steve?” A voice interrupted, quiet in a way that contrasted directly with how loud the rest of the brat pack was.

Steve closed his eyes for a moment, pinching the bridge of his nose with his hand as if to starve off a headache.

“Yes, Baby Byers?” He asked after a long, painful pause, turning to look at the saddest looking kid in the bunch.

“Is there actually a D&D club at the high school?”

The kid looked at Steve like he wasn’t entirely certain he wanted to hear the answer, but was hopeful for the outcome he wanted anyway.

It was the kind of thing that pulled even on Gareth’s heartstrings, and he was almost immune to anything involving giant, sad eyes after a solid year of working at the arcade.

(Never mind Eddie’s own puppy dog looks.)

Steve’s voice gentled, in a way Gareth had never quite heard him use before. “There is. You’d love it, it’s called Hellfire. I’m sure it’ll still be there next year when you come in as a freshman.”

He nudged him with his shoulder playfully, smiling when the younger boy perked up. “If you’re nice, Garebear here might even put in a good word for you.”

“Garebear?” Max repeated with a burst of laughter, appearing behind Steve like a fucking ghost. “Oh my god.”

“No.” Gareth said, bolting upright from his slouch as he stared at her in horror. “Do not call me that.”

“Sure thing, Garebear.” She outright cackled, as Steve sent him a wide-eyed, apologetic face.

“What did you just call Gary?” The sporty one--Lucas, asked, a wide grin overtaking his face.

“I swear to God.” Gareth threatened, as Steve took another dramatic look over his shoulder.

“Hey look Jonathan’s here!” He yelled, jerking a thumb over his shoulder as he started quickly walking backwards. “Come on, dipshits, we're leaving!”

“Bye Garebear!” Lucas and Max sang together, following after him.

“Harrington!” Gareth howled, as Steve mouthed ‘Sorry’ over his shoulder, all but bolting out the door.

“I like Garebear a lot better than Gary.” Another, random child informed him with a grin as he sauntered past, arcade tickets in hand.

Steve Harrington, Gareth decided, was a dead man.

Not even Eddie’s fucking crush on the guy could save him now.

xXx

“Did you know Harrington has a literal pack of kids he watches?” Gareth asked a few hours later, messing with his drum kit as he set up for band practice. "He even drives them around."

More than that though--he’d seemed almost normal around them. That was the most Gareth had seen the guy banter or act relaxed since Eddie had dragged him over.

“He’s mentioned it multiple times.” Grant replied, tuning his bass. “You have ears Gareth, use them.”

“Gareth? Listen?” Jeff teased as he dragged an amp into the garage. “I don’t think I’ll live to see the day.”

"Oh screw you guys.” Gareth growled, winging a drumstick toward his friends for the insult.

Grant, long used to Gareth's tantrums (and Eddie's dramatics) didn't look up from his bass.

Not even when the drumstick hit the wall with a bang!-- allll the way near the opposite end of the couch, entirely opposite of either him or Jeff.

"As usual, your aim is dead on." Jeff appraised sarcastically.

"Like I'd ever actually hit you." Gareth grumbled with a pout. "I was gonna say the kids are older than I expected."

He reached down, blindly fishing for another drumstick from the bucket of them next to his kit.

He came up empty.

"Hey Grantman." Gareth asked, tone changing to something mildly embarrassed. "Could I uh, could I get the drumstick back?"

He got a flat stare back. "No."

"What did I do to get stuck with such dramatic friends?" Jeff joked as he began moving all the amps he’d pulled in back into their usual places.

They hadn't had time to unload anything other than the drums after their last show and the regret was real.

"Eddie’s been standing on tables since seventh grade, you knew what you were getting into." Gareth fired back, making grabby hands for his drumstick.

"And you never grew out of being that dorky middle schooler who snuck into Hellfire games and screamed we were all going to die every time anyone made a bad play." Jeff shot back. "Yet here I am, once again wondering if I should just permanently confiscate Eddie's snacks, your drumsticks, and now Harrington's fricken spatula."

"One year. I am one year younger than you and you act like it's an entire century!" Gareth muttered, as Grant relented and leaned over to fetch said drumstick.

"We all know Eddie chucks food at people, but what'd Steve do with a spatula?" Grant asked as he tossed it back to Gareth.

He missed and nearly took out a cymbal in the process.

"He had a snit while we were making chocolate roulade cause it wouldn’t roll right. Flung the spatula around so much it splattered whip cream on his ceiling." Jeff shook his head as he finished hooking an amp up to his guitar. "I had to rescue it from him."

"His ceiling?" Gareth said in disbelief. "Wait, you were in Harrington’s kitchen?"

"Yeah?" Jeff looked up to find his friends staring at him.

Grant blinked. "The fuck?"

“Can we just play?” Jeff complained, just as embarrassed as Gareth had been.

“No.” Gareth said, retrieved drumstick nearly falling from his hands in shock. “You don’t get to casually drop that you went to Harrington’s house to help him bake and then try to get us to play right after!”

Jeff, who had done exactly that, blushed, skin darkening as he fiddled with his guitar.

“It wasn’t a big deal.” He said finally with a shrug, as if this was something he did all the time and not the groundbreaking revelation that it was.

“Did you meet his parents?” Grant said, sitting up from the couch. “What did his house look like?”

Jeff finally gave up the pretense of playing his instrument.

“I didn't, and it was kinda sad, actually.” He said, as if he didn’t live for this kind of shit.

Gareth knew better than anyone how much of a fricken gossip Jeff could be.

“His house was enormous. I only saw the first floor, and his kitchen is huge.” He set his hands apart at a good distance, showcasing just how large “huge” was, before continuing.

“But it was weird. It was like a model home. No pictures on the walls, no art, no personality to the place at all.”

“What are we talking about?” Eddie asked, finally returning to Gareth’s garage from where he’d been gathering up all the wires they’d thrown haphazardly into his van.

“Jeff went to Harrington’s house.” Grant and Gareth tattled as one.

“To help bake stuff for this Friday!” Jeff defended, the blush creeping back onto his face. “I was curious about his chocolate roulade recipe and he invited me over!”

“When was this?” Eddie asked, staring at Jeff like he’d grown a second head.

Or more likely, Gareth knew, in jealousy. But he wasn’t going to call Eddie out on that just yet.

“Yesterday. We got to talking about it in the parking lot after school.” Jeff said with an embarrassed shrug. “He said he wasn’t the best at explaining how to do things and that he’d rather show me instead.”

“Kinky.” Grant deadpanned, making Jeff sputter.

“You sure you didn’t see his bedroom, Jeff? It’s okay if you fell for the ‘wanna see my music collection’ line. We won’t judge you.” Gareth waggled his eyebrows, ducking with a laugh when Jeff went to whack him.

“Shut up, we just made the chocolate roulade!” Jeff’s ears were red now, and huh, maybe Eddie wasn’t the only person with a crush.

“Guys.” Eddie reprimanded, tone warning.

“Sorry Eds, you know we don’t mean it.” Gareth soothed. Of course, his best friend's anger was less about the gay comments or Steve’s reputation as Hawkin’s man whore than it was about Steve fucking Jeff (and not Eddie) but he had a feeling it wouldn’t be appreciated if he pointed that out either.

Eddie didn’t respond, eyes already back on Jeff. "Details, Jeffery, give us the details!"

He dropped onto the couch, flapping his hands at Jeff in his version of a "sit down" gesture.

Jeff sighed, but repeated what he'd just said for Eddie as he took a seat on the edge of an amp, placing his guitar down gently.

"I think Wayne was right. I don't think anyone else lives there but Steve. Not full-time anyway." He finished.

Which sounded like the best fucking thing ever until Gareth thought about it for more than two seconds.

Tried to imagine what his life would be like if his parents and siblings were gone. Not for a day, or even a weekend, but always.

How silent his normally loud house would be.

Thought instantly that he'd be inviting Eddie, his friends, and hell, l even Wayne, over as often as they could handle.

"The way he looked when I showed up, and how quiet he got when I left I just…" Jeff fiddled with his guitar’s strap. "I think he's lonely."

The four of them sat in silence for a long moment as they digested that.

“Hargrove kicked his ass right? And Byers?” Grant said finally, breaking the silence ad he stared up at the ceiling.

“Old news.” Eddie replied absently, jiggling his leg.

“You think his parents were around for that?” Grant continued, slowly.

No one answered outside of Eddie's leg loudly jiggling faster.

"Did you see the kids hug him or anything?"

"They're like thirteen. I seriously doubt they're pestering Steve for hugs." Gareth answered flatly.

"So he got his ass kicked, his parents are gone, he was supposed involved in that whole has leak thing…" Grant trailed off with an air of someone who expected the end of his sentence to be obvious.

“You’re doing that thing again where you think what you’re saying is obvious and its fucking not.” Eddie grumped. "Just spit it out."

His friend's head finally tipped back down from the ceiling, to face the rest of them. “Maybe the flinching is because no one ever touches him anymore unless it’s to kick his ass.”

“Oh.” Eddie blinked, body going rigid. “Oh shit.”

“That…would make sense. A lot of sense.” Jeff said slowly.

Grant put on a face that read “Duh” loud and clear.

“So what do we do about it?" Gareth asked after a moment.

"Touch him, obviously." Grant replied, like he couldn't believe the drummer was even asking.

Gareth and Eddie shared a look while Eddie rolled his eyes.

"The guy almost fell down the stairs last time I tried that." Gareth pointed out.

Never mind any other time Steve got weird over the lightest of touches. Eddie couldn't even clap the guy on the shoulder without getting major side-eye.

"No." Eddie cut in, sitting up suddenly. His eyes had gone bright, "We're going to trick him into it."

"We're going to trick Harrington into being okay with, what? Shoulder pats?" Gareth echoed, like Eddie might hear himself if his words were repeated back to him. “You realize how stupid that sounds right?"

"Shut up, listen. It's like getting a stray to trust you. You just gotta be calm and so obvious about it that they get confused and let it happen." Eddie had begun practically vibrating, causing his friends to trade uneasy glances.

They knew that look. Eddie only got it when he thought up a plan that was going to cause problems.

"Eddie, that makes zero sense." Jeff told him.

Gareth just shook his head, because only Eddie Munson could compare Hawkins golden boy with a fucking stray animal.

Even if the guy kinda acted like one sometimes.

"I just need an opening." Eddie continued, the little hamster wheel spinning in his head so fast the rest of the band could almost hear it.

If Gareth had been told two months ago he was going to be sitting in his garage, discussing the best way to acclimate Steve Harrington to casual touch, he’d have actually smacked whatever idiot dared spew such nonsense with his drumsticks.

"I did tell tell the kids today you were making him a D&D character." He said, before his best friend could truly go off on some half cocked plot.

Eddie lit up like a kid on Christmas. "Gary, I could kiss you."

Gareth made a face. "Please don't."

He clapped hard before springing to his feet. "Huddle up boys, I've got a plan."

"God help us all." Jeff muttered.

(He huddled up anyway, any thoughts of playing guitar that night fully forgotten.)

Bonus:

"Why don't you just get high and watch a movie with Steve? You're a fucking cling-on when you're high." Gareth complained the next morning, when Eddie swung by to pick him up for school.

Mostly because the plan Eddie had come up with was ridiculous.

Eddie took both hands off the wheel, pressing them against his chest in mock offense while he stared at Gareth and not at the street. “That would be taking advantage of him and I, as a gentleman, would never." He gasped, dramatically.

In his normal voice, he added: "Plus it doesn't count."

“Eyes on the road!” Gareth yelped, swatting an arm. “And you know I didn’t mean it like that. People relax more when they're high and maybe Steve needs something like that as an excuse to allow it. Hell he doesn’t even need to be high, just you.”

Which Gareth personally thought was a very insightful thing to say, so of course he had to ruin it with; “or whatever.”

"Do you recall how you kissed Jeff on the cheek when you were high and then spent the entire next month swearing up and down that you weren't attracted to men last summer?"

"That was different. I was discovering myself."

Eddie outright cackled. "Discovering yourself? What self help book did you pick that gem out of?"

"I was quoting you, you moron!" Gareth sputtered.

"If I said anything like that then I was definitely high and it just proves my point. Steve would just be uncomfortable."Eddie stuck his tongue out. "So there."

"Fine." Gareth sighed. "If we ever get high with Harrington, I'll sit in his lap."

Eddie's eye twitched. "No you will not."

Thrilled to have something to tease the elder metalhead about, a smile graced Gareth's face. "In fact, I'm calling dibs."

"You can't call dibs on a lap! And besides, you don't even like him like that!"

"So?" Gareth retorted. "It's a nice lap, looks comfortable. You don't want it, so I'll take it."

Eddie grit his teeth, grasping the steering wheel so hard his knuckles went white.

"I know what you're doing Gary. This is some bullshit reverse psychology shit and I will not be falling for it."

"Oh contraire, this is sibling bullshit, Munson. You want it, so I want it." Gareth crossed his arms and looked at Eddie smugly. "And unless you do something about it, I'm getting it."

"I hate you."

Gareth grinned, delighted. "I know."

#Gareth @ 15: LOOK AT THESE LITERAL BABIES!#The Party @ 13: SCREW YOU GARY U NERD #Steve is a mom in my head but he definitely has older brother vibes.#Like he's on that 'You can do stupid shit but only if I supervise' phase lol #I don't ship Gareth with Jeff but I can see him picking Jeff over Eddie as the Bi Test Run.#Pre steddie #hellfire adopts Steve #adopt a jock #steve harrington #Eddie Munson #hellfire club #Steve harrington whump #Sad Boy Hours Steve #0o0 fanfics #gareth emerson #jeff #grant #Next part is Eddie Munsons Ridiculous Oneshot

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cherrychilli · 3 months ago

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18+ Steve Harrington x f! reader, established relationship Masturbation (F&M), guided masturbation, edging, phone sex(kinda) Summary: Steve receives a special kind of phone call when the journey to his business conference is interrupted by bad weather. WC:3.4K

He'd hoped to make it into town before sundown, badly in need of some rest ahead of the conference tomorrow but the rain put a stop to that.

It started with a light drizzle, a gentle pitter patter of barely there droplets before it turned into a downpour so heavy Steve could barely make out the road in front of him no matter how swiftly his windshield wipers swept from side to side.

So heavy that he grit his teeth and reluctantly pulled over off to the side, clicking his tongue with irritation because the winding stretch of road ahead lay draped in darkness and obscured by thick sheets of rain.

The car comes to a stop on a soggy stretch of grass just by the forest line and he kills the engine, body slumping against his seat with a sigh. Several hours on the road and he's less than pleased to hit the brakes during the home stretch of his journey.

All Steve can really do about it is stew there for a while, rain pelting so hard against the roof of his beamer like the sound of a hundred soldiers marching by. He knows waiting for the shower to cease is his only option, left idle and with little else to do but try to keep from falling sleep.

In the roaring still of his BMW Steve makes a genuine effort at being productive, thinking about the conference and all the things he'll need to do to prepare for it tomorrow. Thoughts of keynote speakers, slideshows, workshops, panel discussions and more fill the space in his mind though the longer he spends on it the more it upsets the remaining calm he'd managed to retain since the rain began.

One by one those thoughts wrap around each other in knots tight enough to choke, entangling into a head throbbing mess that has him calling it quits with another irritated click of his tongue.

Brushing the tiresome details of his business trip aside, Steve rests his temple against the window for some relief. Thankfully the cool glass soothes the thick pulsing vein that runs through there below his skin before a migraine has a chance to sprout roots in his head.

Silently, his half lidded eyes follow the fat droplets of rain as they smack against the glass and turn to rivulets that spiral down his car and soak into the soil below. Watching the sight closely for a while gets his mind working again only this time it doesn't trigger any throbbing in his head.

He thinks back to how even before he'd seen the first signs of rain a few hours back, ashy clouds blooming in size to swallow up a perfectly azure sky, he had you at the back of his mind.

Inside his red knit sweater his chest puffs and fills with a fondness so warm because he's reminded of you once again, the way you love cozying up when its all whistling winds, dense showers and charcoal skies — your favorite kind of weather.

This time he isn't afraid of letting his eyes slip shut, making it easier for him to picture you back home in Hawkins and warm in your bed. How you stayed warm he could never figure out though. You were the type who habitually kicked the covers off in your sleep, and even though what you had on underneath should have done little to keep you warm, you never so much as let out a shiver in your panties and billowing baggy t-shirt.

The same outfit you'd had on this morning, Steve recalls happily. His lips quickly curve as he smiles to himself, remembering how you looked when you wished him a safe trip after having breakfast together.

Of all the things that went wrong today, Steve cursed himself the most for having to leave you looking like that at the door, wishing he'd had just one hour more to say goodbye more thoroughly.

Your legs had been bare, easy for him to admire when the hem of your t-shirt rested just below the swell of your ass. Silently, he ogled that too as you moved around the kitchen, little glimpses of your panties showing whenever you reached for the top cabinet. And underneath the thin cotton that had wrinkled while you slept with patterns like tree branches stretching high and wide, your perked nipples showed, always drawing his attention as Steve watched the shape of your tits jiggle with every step.

Already the warmth which began in Steve's chest starts to trickle down his bones, leaving him unsure if he should hit the breaks on this feeling before it's too late. The thing was, it didn't take much to get Steve going and it was near impossible for him to hold himself back once he's worked up. Most times all it took was a cheeky flash of your breasts or a firm kiss deepened with tongue and teeth, enough to have him eager to strip you both of your clothes and pull you into the bedroom.

Now that exciting familiar feeling weaves through the spaces between his ribs and swirls at the pit of his stomach. He does his best to deter it despite how much he wants to let it take him over, looking for a distraction to stop the blood in his body from rushing south but temptation gets the better of him.

He really couldn't help it, plucking his phone from out from his back pocket to get a look at you. Steve expects to see you both pictured in his lock screen as usual, smiling cheek to cheek with him all sun glistened skin the last time he'd taken you to the beach but what he finds ballooning up on his screen instead is a notification flashing bright with your name.

Unlocking it with a swipe, Steve finds he's missed a call that'd come from you an hour ago, unable to get through to him because his phone had been set to silent like he always did when he drove.

His thumb hovers over his screen, about to scroll and call you right back, hoping all is well on your end when he pauses. Steve notices you've left him one more surprise — a voice mail. Probably asking him to call you back, he figures, but when he thinks on it a little longer he decides to listen to it first since you'd gone through the effort of sending one. Not to mention that the sound of your voice is just what he needs right now, it alone able to mend all the bitterness that'd scratched at him so fervently from the inside since he'd parked on this dark and isolated spot.

Fiddling with his phone, Steve makes sure to turn the volume all the way up so he can make out everything that you're saying clearly despite the heavy rainfall, still showing no signs of tapering as he hits play.

When the sound of your voice filters through the speaker it hits him like a beam of sunlight, exactly what he needed to hear this far into his journey, bringing a rush of warmth all throughout his body to counteract the chill brought on by the rain. It's enough to make his heartbeat pick up at the raspy tone that wraps around each of your words, soft like you're letting him in on a secret, enticing like you're curling a finger at him to beckon him closer.

"-guess you're still on the road. I was hoping you'd be at the hotel by now because...well, the thing is I miss you already. I know, I know. Clingy much, right? but it got me thinking about how you'll be all alone in that hotel room...while I'm all alone in our bed...I just— I've been thinking about you all day Steve and it's been driving me crazy."

A few wide eyed blinks is all Steve can muster as your words hang in his mind like stars peppering a pitch black sky. He shifts quickly to attention, no longer slumped in his seat as he listens on attentively, spine straight and making no effort to stifle that feeling brewing in his belly any longer.

"...this'll have to do...I know how hard you've been working and I wanna make you feel better while we're apart. So go ahead, lean back and get comfortable while I tell you what's been on my mind... Promise you're going to want to hear this", you tell him as you let out a little giggle, making Steve shiver in a way that has nothing to do with the weather outside.

"...I've been so distracted at home. I couldn't get anything done...I really did try to control myself but I couldn't...it's all I want to think about. Steve, you're all I want to think about...you and the way you touch yourself... and now I'm- well, I'm imagining you rubbing your cock while you listen to my voice... and I need to touch myself while I think about you too. Will you touch yourself for me? please, I'd love to know that you're stroking your cock for me while I'm running my hands all over my body."

Suddenly, Steve couldn't be more thankful for the heavy rain that's rendered him trapped in this lonely spot. Having passed no other vehicles in the last hour, and in no mood to deny your requests, especially when you're talking to him like that, he's free to follow your instructions without any fear of getting caught. Placing his phone on the dashboard to free up his fingers, he undoes his belt and zipper before reaching in and pulling his cock out his boxers with clumsy haste, too overeager and cloddish for his own good.

Holding a hand up to his lips, he spits out a warm, generous glob of saliva into the well of his palm, wrapping it around the thickness of his veiny shaft to pump himself to fullness. It doesn't take long with the way his length had already begun to kick up and rise at the sound of your voice, listening very carefully as you continue.

"...It's so cold here without you beside me...'been trying to warm up by taking my fingertips and running them all over myself...all the places I need your touch the most... tracing them up my thighs... slowly across my hips... up to my chest... and I'm brushing them lightly around my tits... feels so nice...m' starting to play with my nipples now... I'm wetting my fingertips with my tongue...then rubbing them so gently in circles... watching them start to perk up...'n pinching and rolling them just for you Stevie... getting them all nice and hard...feels amazing but I miss having your mouth on me...having your teeth around my nipples...the way you suck and lick them better...there's nothing else like it" you mewl softly, your voice all breathy.

The more hushed sighs and moans you let out the easier it is for him to picture you and feed the fiery ache building inside. His eyes slip shut and his hand moves up and down with shallow strokes as he imagines you in bed, your soft, naked skin gliding against your bedsheets as you touch yourself just as described. Steve's able to imagine the subtle floral scent of your favorite perfume too, powdery and sweet with a hint of cream. It always mixes well with the natural musk of your sweat, the memory of it making Steve's mouth water from all the times he's buried his face in your neck while his hips rut against your own.

"Please tell me you're touching your cock for me... I want you stroke it lightly with just your fingertips? need you to tease yourself— just like the way I'm teasing my body... need you to really work for it, okay?...so rub your fingers around the tip... do it gently before sliding your hand back down to the base...Stevie, please, I hope you're leaking...your cock looks so pretty when it does that...I love when you get it everywhere...make it messy while I start to squeeze my tits... that's it..."

Steve's hands roam dutifully to wherever you dictate, teasing himself as requested. "God, yeah— doing it just how you want me to, baby", he groans out, fingers wet with his saliva and clear pearls of precum that dew and spill copiously from his slit.

There was a time when his chest would grow tight with embarrassment, unsure how you'd react to the way he'd drip so many thick droplets from his slit all the way down his length and onto the dark hair that grew at his base.

He was relieved to find he needn't have worried, nearly overwhelmed by the way you took charge and hungrily lapped him clean. Steve couldn't help but feel so impressed by the way you savored his taste and worshipped his cock too, rewarding your busy mouth with plentiful spurts of cum as you sealed your lips around his tip and sucked down all he could give you. Even begging him for more as his spend dripped out the corner of your mouth and made its way onto your chin, never too shy to wear him on your skin.

But without you here to wrap your tongue and lips around his cock, his spit and precum trickle all the way down to his balls, made even messier when he reaches lower to cup and gently squeeze his heavy sack, enough to bring him some relief.

"...I'm going to start sliding my hands down to my pussy now... and I'm using two fingers to rub gentle circles above my clit... I think I can feel it swelling up...getting me so worked up just thinking about you rubbing your dick for me... I want you to reach down to the base of your cock with one hand- grip it lightly...I want you to stroke it for me... long, slow strokes... keep going... that's it... baby, don't stop stroking yourself for me"

Steve wants more — needs more but he's not about to stray from your instructions, purposely denying himself by keeping his touches languid and light despite his own hunger.

"Shit, you're such a bad girl for working me up like this...", he breathes into the dark, flashes of how he'd like to reprimand you popping up in his mind one by one — his hand around your neck while he thrusts into you, your knees raw from kneeling between his legs with his cock nudging the back of your throat, you pulled over his lap as he cracks his hand over your ass until you're sore. He fully intends to try every one of them when he comes back home to you.

"Ngh, my clit— it's so sensitive. I'm rubbing it slowly— it feels so good...but I miss having your fingers on me more...'m spreading my legs wider, reaching lower now so I can rub my fingers over my pussy lips... just teasing myself...please, tease yourself with me Steve- just swirl your fingertips over the tip of your cock but don't touch anything else, okay?...I want you to grip it a little harder for me and pretend you're pressing the head into my hole like I'm doing with my fingers— filling myself with just the tip."

"Mm, Jesus...fuck", he leans over to dribble more spit onto the head of his cock, imagining the way your wet heat would welcome his intrusion by wrapping around him tightly.

"-And I'm pulling them out again... this time I'm sliding them in a little further, just an inch or so...slide your hand down your cock just a little bit more and pull it back up again... slide your hand a little further down your dick for me, about halfway and give it soft strokes up and down the top half of your cock while I try to...while I try to fuck myself with my fingers-"

Even with the rain still coming down heavily Steve can hear the distinct sound of you touching yourself. He's completely tuned in to the sound of the sticky clicks coming from between your legs as he hears you pulling your folds apart, wishing he could see you bare your tight hole to him before you fill it with your fingers.

"Oh god! -it's so warm and soft inside Stevie...there's so much- 's so wet every time I pull them out...it's making my thighs all sticky...it's so filthy but I need to know how it tastes...my fingers are covered in it...so slippery and glossy...just have to- have to lick them clean...before I put them back inside...mm!"

The thought of you tasting yourself makes him feel dangerously close to cumming, eyes ready to roll back because you're enjoying how sweet you taste, making his thighs tense and quiver until the sound of you gasping out urgently has him slowing his pace.

"Stevie, baby, don't be mad...I know it feels good fucking your fist but I want you to stop what you're doing...take your hands away and I want you to just sit there for a minute while I pull my fingers back out too"

Steve whines, reluctantly pulling his hand away, watching his aching cock blushing bright pink and twitching on its own without his hand wrapped around it.

"God I want it so badly — I'm not even touching myself and I'm so close to cumming for you. Will you cum with me baby? please?"

"Yes — shit that's what I want", he whines again as if you can hear him, as if he can sway you when you hear the desperation in his voice as it slips past his lips.

"Okay, you can touch yourself again... I'm sliding my fingers in again too and I'm doing it all the way this time — shit... they're buried deep...take long slow strokes with me up to the tip and back down to the base, baby — oh fuck— and up to the tip again and back down to the base... I want you to do it faster and faster...this feels so good oh fuck, keep going Steve..."

It's a mess, both his mind and body.

Steve's cock and fist are covered in a wet, viscous layer as he begins to buck his hips up to meet his hand with every pump and stroke, his whole body dewy with a light sweat. He can't remember a time he's worked harder for an orgasm, every muscle flexing and contracting around his bones, his Adam's apple bobbing in his throat all pulled taught.

"...I wish I could watch you stroking it for me...the way your fingers fit around your cock...even though they are bigger than mine, your cock still looks so thick in your grasp...gosh, Steve, I love knowing how hard my voice makes you...I love..mm!..I love knowing that you're getting off to the sound of me touching myself ...oh my god, speed up for me... speed up for me- I really want us to cum together... you think you can do that for me? Steve?... fuck yourself for me... do whatever you need to make yourself cum... play with your balls, jerk your shaft, rub the tip... I don't care. Just cum with me please-"

"I'm close, shit. I'm almost there pretty girl", he spits out, eyes screwed shut.

"Oh shit. 'so good.... oh please... please please - oh fu- right there! I'm cumming...!"

In that moment Steve's treated to the sweet sound of you giving into your release just a few seconds before his own, the sound of you inhaling sharply before you cry out and writhe enough to push him over the edge. His fist works himself vigorously, until he feels it shoot up his spine, throwing his head back when he spews thick lines of sticky white all over his fist and belly — some even managing to catch on the bottom of the steering wheel too.

"...oh god that was...that was...so good....Steve? The aftershocks keep rippling through my body, oh fuck...I really can't wait until you're back home with me...there's nothing like having the real thing..."

Even as his heads spins he hangs off every word you utter into the phone until the message cuts out not much long after, nothing but the sound of Steve's own haggard breathing ringing in his ears as he unsticks his hand from around his spent cock.

Chest heaving, hand all sticky, Steve rests his temple against the window as he did before, breath fogging up the glass as he wonders how best to go about cleaning up when suddenly he notices outside-

The rain's come to an end.

#steve harrington smut #stranger things smut #steve harrington #stranger things #steve harrington x reader

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ashwhowrites · 2 months ago

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So excited to see your requests open!!! My first request since I found you!! So I was having a hard time deciding what to ask for and then I thought why not do a dice roller on the prompt list with the categories!

And I got love confessions 7, and then under fluff 11. Honestly it sounds cute as hell! And that’s all, full author control of the set up and what have you.

And clearly I’m very indecisive tonight so I rolled for who to ask for it with, between Steve Harrington and Eddie Munson. And the dice gods decreed Steve and I cannot wait to see what you do with this!

You are chef’s kiss, shining star, ten million fireflies lighting up the world as owlcity fell asleep.

Lol, basically you’re great and your writing is great and thank you so so much for doing requests as much as you do! it really just makes it easier to get through the miasma that is life when I can check here for new goodies on fic days. Your effort is so appreciated babes. XOXO

“I’m going to need you to stop for one second because I just find it so incredibly rude that you think I’m not head over heels in love with your stupid, oblivious ass. Are you a brick? Because you’re dense as fuck.”

“Our kids are gonna be *mwah*!”

A harsh confession

Steve was a helpless romantic who never wanted to give up on his relationship with Nancy. But it was clear she didn't love him and a part of him was scared to admit he didn't love her. They were high school lovers and he figured she'd be the one until the end, simply because it was the easiest outcome.

And then he met someone else, Y/N. He met someone who made him feel things he had never felt with Nancy. It scared the shit out of him. To make matters worse, it was his new coworker. Someone he would always see and spend time with. Then he'd go back to Nancy and try to get Y/N out of his head.

But she never left. She haunted Steve's head and he couldn't escape her. He didn't have the heart to tell Nancy, so he planned to suffer for the rest of his life in a convenient relationship. Nancy had other plans, she fell in love with someone else too, but she wasn't going to stay for Steve. One drunk night and all her feelings came to the surface. Steve was hurt but man was he relieved.

~~~

Steve walked into work as a new man, a bright smile on his face. He was free and that meant he could go for Y/N, the girl he truly wanted.

"What's got you in a good mood?" Robin asked

"Nancy broke up with me," Steve said, but he didn't sound upset about it, and that confused Robin

"Isn't a breakup supposed to be heartbroken and supposed to be crying in your bedroom and not showering for days?"

"I'm not a girl," Steve scoffed, which led Robin to give him a glare and roll her eyes. "It was needed, neither of us was in it anymore," Steve explained.

"Morning, guys," Y/N smiled as she walked through the doors. Steve smiled upon hearing her voice, his stomach fluttering as she walked past him and he inhaled her perfume.

"Morning, Y/N," Robin smiled

They followed her with their eyes until she was out of sight.

"That's why you aren't upset. You got your eye on someone else," Robin teased, nudging Steve with her elbow.

"Yeah, but the question is, does she have her eye on me?" Steve sighed

~~~

Now that Steve was single, he tried to charm Y/N's socks off. It seemed to work, she'd smile and get shy. Sometimes she'd flirt back and it made Steve's head spin.

He felt too nervous to straight out ask if she was interested in him so he hoped his flirting and consistent interest told her how he felt. But were girls ever that easy? Nope.

She liked Steve, of course, she did. He was gorgeous with his sweet eyes, perfect smile, and flowy hair. She had feelings for him the second she met him. But he was with Nancy so she never went for it. Now he is single and seems to flirt with her more than he ever did with Nancy.

Y/N wanted to give in but she was scared to be his rebound. She liked him too much to date him so fresh out of a relationship. She couldn't tell if he was interested in hooking up or interested in being together. She could have asked him but she felt like she would sound way too pushy about it.

She gave it a week or two and Steve never asked her out so she gave up. A random boy she met asked her out and she accepted the date. She wasn't exactly interested in the poor boy but maybe it would make Steve move forward a step.

"SHE'S ON A DATE!" Steve screamed as he walked into Robin's bedroom. His hair was a mess from the amount of times he ran his hands through it. He was beyond frustrated and a bit hurt.

"What?" Robin asked

"She's on a fucking date, Robin. Clearly, she doesn't like me," Steve huffed, collapsing on her bed with a dramatic sigh.

"Well, have you thought about asking her on a date?" Robin sighed, already knowing her peaceful night was going to be spent on Steve's feelings.

"Obviously!" Steve groaned

"Okay, did you ever ask her?"

"Well, no,"

"How do you know she doesn't like you if you've never asked her out?" Robin sarcastically smiled

"Because she's currently on a date with a guy," Steve said back in a duh tone.

"It's a date, Steve. She isn't getting married," Robin said as she rolled her eyes, "ask the girl out."

~~~

The next day Steve pulled her aside at work. She was confused but followed him into the back room.

"What's up?"

"How was your date?" Steve asked, he crossed his arms and leaned against the wall

Y/N was surprised he cared to ask, "It was alright. Is that what you wanted to talk about?"

"Will there be another date?" Steve asked. He tried to sound nonchalant but his tone was clearly snippy.

"Being debated," Y/N shrugged.

"Well is he cute?" Steve asked

"Yes, Steve he's cute. What's going on?" Y/N asked

"Just catching up with my friend," Steve shrugged.

Y/N felt her body deflate at the word friend. She rolled her eyes and headed for the door.

"Where are you going?" Steve asked, pushing off the wall to follow her

"To work, Steve. This conversation seems to be pointless." She snapped

"Talking to me is pointless?" Steve scoffed

"It seems like it!" Y/N huffed. "I mean we barely have conversations. We flirt and that's it. Now you call me your friend and try to get the inside scoop of my dating life. What do you want from this conversation?"

"I want to know why you went on a date with that guy!" Steve exclaimed

"Because he asked me out!"

"But why would you go when we were...you know flirting," Steve argued

"I'm sorry I didn't know flirting meant we were exclusive. You never said anything about actually liking me!"

"Well, I do!" Steve fought, "I like you and I want to ask you out but it's clear you don't like me that way. I mean you already have dates lined up so I guess I shouldn't waste my time." Steve went for the door but Y/N stood in front of it. Steve looked down at her, it was clear he was angry but didn't want to lose his cool.

"I didn't want to be your rebound!" Y/N admitted

Steve's face softened, "what?"

"You and Nancy just broke up. I've always liked you but I didn't know if you were flirting because you like me or it got your mind off Nancy. And you never did anything more than flirt so I have a feeling it's the second one." Y/N spat, her eyes went into slits as she glared.

"Hey you don't have to be so ru- wait you love me?" Y/N asked, her anger disappeared as shock took over her body.

"I've been in love with you, even when I was with Nancy. I should have gotten to the point and asked you out. But you also never said how you felt!" Steve argued, "But we know how we feel now, so where do you want to go with this?"

Y/N didn't have to think. She closed her eyes and pressed her lips against his. Her hands dove into his hair, it was softer than she ever dreamed. She loved feeling his hair and his lips, she knew she'd never get tired of it.

Steve kissed her back, his arms wrapped around her body. He pressed her against the door and kissed her harder.

The door pushed back against them and they quickly jumped apart. Robin kept pushing open the door until the two came into view.

"Got a job to do lovebirds," Robin said

"Right!" Y/N said, her body felt like it was on fire as she raced out of the door

“Our kids are gonna be *mwah*!” Steve said a dazed smile on his face.

"Oh Lord help me," Robin sighed as she went in the direction Y/N went.

#steve harrington fluff #steve stranger things #steve harrignton #steve Harrington x reader #Steve Harrington fluff x reader #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington angst to fluff #steve harrington requests #steve Harrington angst x reader #Steve Harrington fluff x female reader #ashwhowrites

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space-invading-pigeon · 9 months ago

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Look I love the Steve has Awful Parents trope but hear me out: Steve's parents are genuinely great people, but his dad's a bit of an idiot and his mom has to be supervised because she never quite learned how to watch her mouth. Steve has some pretty severe anxiety so he genuinely thinks his parents hate him if they aren't there to reassure him.

His dad, Samuel Harrington, is smart but dense; he misses a lot of social cues and sometimes has to be reminded to do basic functions like brushing his teeth or taking his socks off before stepping into the shower. He's bigger than Hop and crazy strong, but is the definition of a pushover when it comes to his family.

Now his mom, Penelope, is small and looks like a shy, demure housewife; she's a shark in human form. She's petty and a bit vindictive, but she has a soft spot for kids and (most of the time) her husband. Her best friend from high school, Wayne Munson, is the only person to insult her and not regret it (he uses that power to make sure she stays humble).

The annual, month-long trip that Samuel Harrington has to take every November means that they aren't around for the first two years of the worst experience of Steve's life, but the summer of 1985, Penelope Harrington gets into a fistfight with a firefighter after he tries to stop her from entering the mall when she hears little Erica Sinclair screaming about her brother and friends still being in the burning building. Samuel Harrington is holding her off the ground as she spits vitriol at the useless first responders when he catches sight of Steve and just walks away from the person his wife has reduced to tears. They lose sight of everything except Steve, sitting beaten and bloody in the back of an ambulance, clutching his coworker with one arm and cradling his other arm to his chest.

#steve harrington #stranger things headcanons #guess whos back on this hellsite #found this in my drafts #its definitely not done but im giving it to you anyway because otherwise it will never be finished

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criesinliess · 2 years ago

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━APRIL 2023; susan's recs

FATE: THE WINX SAGA

━━RIVEN

i’m jealous of the way @imkylotrash

hold my girl @↑

call me back @randomimaginesforrandompeople

scared to death @↑

little sister @↑

one-on-one @novawrts

HARRY POTTER

━━GEORGE WEASLEY

it takes two @ickle-ronniekins

━━ DRACO MALFOY

just friends — masterlist @bwbatta

━━FRED WEASLEY

selfish @george-fabian-weasley

━━OLIVER WOOD

blind to it @heloisedaphnebrightmore

MARAUDERS ERA

━━SIRIUS BLACK

all your fault @heloisedaphnebrightmore

absurd ideas @↑

crimes of jealousy @↑

gentle seduction @↑

cause i don't want you like a best friend @evermoreal

━━JAMES POTTER

five times james wanted to kiss you and the one time he did @moonlitmeeks

hey, james! @heloisedaphnebrightmore

LOCKWOOD & CO

━━ANTHONY LOCKWOOD

knight in shining armour @givemea-dam-break

the poltergeist @↑

jealousy @↑

how to dance @↑

hidden by the new stars @↑

stunning @vi-trying-to-survive

you can hear it in the silence @tangledinlove

just another love song @↑

pretty boy @maraschinomerry

GRISHAVERSE

━━KAZ BREKKER

he just sounds like that @amsgrey

of antidotes @honeyfict

dense @↑

love language @genyakosstyk

dive into the waves below @↑

of kings @yelenasbraid

everything @theowritesstuff

deathly fever @webslinger-holland

another dream @↑

take it slow @amsgrey

━━NIKOLAI LANTSOV

yours no more @theowritesstuff

wanting was enough @genyakosstyk

OUTER BANKS

━━RAFE CAMERON

dating john b's sister @a-aexotic

midsummers @butgilinsky

blueberry pancakes @↑

tension @↑

and isn't it just so pretty to think? @folkloreslovechild

heartbroke bitch; guess you really did it this time; kiss for kiss, heart for heart; a crack in the glass @fandomxpreferences

dirty litte secret @↑

passenger princess @sunraies

cupcakes and rainstorms @↑

fair play @laiiaaa

dancing with our hands tied @forevermoreharrington

━━JJ MAYBANK

hot for a pogue @butgilinsky

the last year @↑

the part where you kiss me @laiiaaa

THE BEAR

━━CARMY BERZATTO

sink in @nymphlamp

TOP GUN: MAVERICK

━━BRADLEY 'ROOSTER' BRADSHAW

delirium @kyber-crystal

head in the clouds @↑

MARVEL

━━BUCKY BARNES

the last first kiss @witchywithwhiskey

almost believing @intrepidacious

insomnia @↑

first date, last night @↑

not even a little @↑

heal me, baby @↑

━━STEVE ROGERS

moving on @intrepidacious

━━LOKI LAUFEYSON

clouded judgement @heloisedaphnebrightmore

silly misgardian @↑

SCHOOL SPIRITS

━━WALLY CLARK

hopes and fears @general-fanfiction

i want to help @anthemabby

STRANGER THINGS

━━STEVE HARRINGTON

love her too @divine17

1K notes · View notes

godjustkys · 2 months ago

Text

stranger things headcanons.. pt 1.

THEME: How the characters deal with your flirtations (friendship stage)

CHARACTERS INCLUDED: mike wheeler, will byers, jane hopper, lucas sinclair, dustin henderson, maxine mayfield, billy hargrove, steve harrington, nancy wheeler, joyce byers, jim hopper, dmitri antonov, eddie munson, jonathan byers.

READER: male reader with a sarcastic, flirty, witty and a slightly cynical personality.

Mike Wheeler;

- dude is either OVER it or does not catch on at all.

- like seriously, your touches would linger for a bit too long and he'd think “oh, that's weird. whatever.”

- you mess up his hair every chance you get and he goes livid.

- “don't touch my hair, man!” is what he'd say and in return you'd just mock him. then a 'playful' fight ensues. he has ruined like five of your shirts now, accidentally tearing it while fighting.

- whenever you say something flirty or out of pocket, you would get two different reactions. The most common one being “ha ha. very funny.” with a sarcastic smile. and the other one.. god, he would just stare at you with a concerned look on his face, not even saying anything.

- for a little while, Mike just stayed oblivious to your 'advances', per say.

- you would do stupid dirty shit behind mike's back when the party's attention was on you just to get some laughs from them. it always worked but it ended up with mike scolding the shit out of you and calling you different names.

- one time at a random party, you invited Mike to dance. He disagreed, of course, and brushed you off with a laugh, but for a moment he almost said yes. Which was very weird for him. Dude was borderline panicking.

- you would call him “mikey” just to piss him off and he hated that nickname with a passion.

- “Mikey-” you'd start, and mike would immediately interrupt you with “get the fuck out of my house. Like right now.” with a blank look on his face while aggressively pointing to the stairs.

Will Byers;

- consider the dude dead. anytime you flirt.

- yeah he's a little slow but when he gets what you meant he goes red in the face.

- like he's blushing so furiously that even the tips of his ears are turning pink.

- he starts fidgeting with his fingers and blinking more profusely, as if that'd help anything.

- “will, you're sleeping with me, right?” you asked once, at a sleepover. He paused. “ay, I'm not opposed to whatever you're thinking but I meant you're sleeping in my room?” you cleared up.

- Oh. oh. “Yeah- yep, I'm sleeping- in your room, yeah.” he responded after swallowing hard. Lucas laughed so hard he started crying.

- he's a sucker for physical contact, truly, so whenever you'd press up against him, or your hands would brush, literally any physicality and he's tensed up, his heart beating out of his chest. It's not that he likes you, but your flirting certainly fucks with his mind. He's not that dense.

- due to your flirty personality, most of the time he would avoid eye contact with you. Because any time your gazes met, you'd wink. And it wasn't that big of a deal, truly, but Will just couldn't help it, it made his breath hitch ever so slightly.

Jane Hopper;

- oh lord. most of the time, she doesn't get it. she just smiles and nods.

- you think it's funny how oblivious she is, it is stupid but hella adorable.

- when it is explained to her, she barely has a reaction to it.

- so in conclusion, she doesn't even answer you. Unless you talk to her about it. But that is literally it. She doesn't deal with your flirtations, you have to deal with her obliviousness.

Lucas Sinclair;

- dude laughs it off when you first start flirting with him. Then he gradually becomes more and more concerned.

- he takes it pretty seriously. But he doesn't care that much, mostly because it doesn't bother him nor does it make him uncomfortable.

- immediately assumed you were into men when you made a slightly over the top joke (not that it was wrong).

- told dustin, will and mike what he thinks. they didn't believe him. Like at all.

- next time you said something flirtatious to Lucas, he didn't waste a second looking over at the others.. who seemed to have taken your flirting as a joke, something you'd say between buddies, you know?

- so after a long long long contemplation, Lucas abruptly asked “are you into dudes?”...

- everyone went dead silent.

- you answered after a beat. “..wasn't that like.. obvious?”

- “WHAT?!”

Dustin Henderson;

- HE FLIRTS BACK.

- you flirt, sure, you give it a hundred percent. Dustin, though? Dude gives it his ALL. Everything and anything he has.

- he sends you air kisses, he loves physical contact, he loves giving gifts (and receiving them), he loves talking. To make it short, he's love in human form.

- any time you guys have playful banter it turns into heavy flirting. Also, you two express appreciation by flirting, too.

- “don't make me kiss you, henderson.”, “dude,” he paused to put on chapstick. After he did, he turned his focus back on you. “i'm ready, kiss me.” he'd say.

- of course, others would whine and complain about it. Especially Steve, god he hated when you two acted like that.

- “i think my ears are bleeding,” would be Steve's response.

- at one point, you and Dustin had a wedding.. a platonic one, but a wedding nonetheless. He's never been happier that he got to be the wife.

- all jokes aside, you always expressed physical affection to Dustin because you knew that he'd be more than willing to receive it. Hugs, forehead kisses, simple gentle gestures, head pats, shoulder pats, etc. etc.

Maxine Mayfield;

- you low-key think she's scary but shoot your shots nonetheless.

- albeit, they're always met with frustrated silence, sarcasm or judgy glances.

- she acts like she hates it. Yeah, sometimes it truly pisses her off if she's in a bad mood and her social battery is low, but other than that, she kinda enjoys the attention from you.

- she actually liked you since she met you. not like.. actually like you, but you seemed nice, you seemed to have an understanding others lacked.

- she catches onto every single flirtatious remark you make. Every. Single. One.

- if you say something she doesn't like at all, she hits you in the back of the head, flicks your forehead or punches you in the shoulder. Fuck, her flicks are deadly.

- “can I braid your hair?” was a question you asked once. Max just turned to look at you with a soft smile. “Fuck no.”

- “oh-”

- physical contact is not her strong suit. Of course, she loves it, but not every time. It also depends on how she's feeling. A thing she can never get tired of though is quality time. You could spend days with her and she wouldn't mind at all. As long as you don't bother her too much.

Billy Hargrove;

- the moment you open your mouth around him, you're playing with fire. Seriously. You don't know what is gonna set him off.

- fucking hates it. hates it hates it hates it.

- to say that he's your friend is.. an overstatement. He just tolerates your presence. Does not like when you say stupid shit.

- “you've got such a pretty face.” you complimented him once.

“i'm gonna beat the fucking shit out of you.”

“ohhh-kay.”

- would laugh it off but he knows you're into guys. he done seen it from a mile away bro 😭 gaydar strong as shit.

- was a bit bothered by you liking guys at first, though over a span of a damn week he couldn't be bothered enough to care.

- says he hates when you're around him but has spent more time with you than with anyone else.

- he's gotten too used to being around you.

- “where are we going?” you asked from the passenger seat of his car.

“a date, are you fucking-” he paused, blinking a couple of times. “my date.” he pulled over almost immediately, in a heart beat. “get out of the damn car.”

“you just-” you stammered for a moment. “good luck on your date.” you said in an encouraging tone, feeling defeated as you got out of the car, not even knowing where you are.

“don't need it.” he said bitterly as he drove off. Well, okay.

Steve Harrington;

- either laughs or gets flustered (doesn't show it).

- mocks you so much in return.

- DEFLECTS your compliments with mean comments like crazy.

- “ya look good today, Steve.”

“Couldn't say the same about you. Jesus, have you looked in the mirror this morning?” he said with a concerned smile.

- cheeky little shit. he'd jump in traffic if it meant he'd avoid saying a simple 'thank you' to your compliments.

- he thinks you don't know that your flirting affects him. it's way too obvious. dude's hands get clammy, unclenching and clenching his fists, rubbing his hands on his pants or his stance shifting after a compliment. the signs are subtle, sure, but not invisible.

- the tension between you two is CRAZY. yeah he gets flustered if you say something out of pocket but he's not scared to hold eye contact. I mean, if you're not looking. if you are, he's not sparing a damn glance your way.

- CHECKS YOU OUT SO MUCH. AND FOR NO REASON. dude's a natural flirt.

- he has flirted back like a total of 5 times. otherwise he'd just brush you off fr.

Nancy Wheeler;

- SOMEBODY GET THE DAMN AMBULANCE.

- if she likes you and your vibe, she flirts back. SHE FLIRTS FIRST MORE.

- you thought you'd get her flustered? Nah, she's giving you signs dude.

- she'd make 'accidental' physical contact with you, like gently brushing her hand against yours and shit like that. just to tease you.

- shameless with her flirting. Seriously. She doesn't say much in front of others but if you're alone you can't catch a break.

- she'd speak a sentence that has a clear implication of something dirty and then when you ask her about it, she'd give it another meaning.

- eye contact eye contact eye contact, she loves it

- one time, the two of you were hanging out in your room. You were going to a wedding tomorrow, and Nancy knew that.

“fuck, I don't have any nice clothes. What do I wear for tomorrow?” You asked her, hoping for some advice.

“i'd rather you wear.. nothing.” she said mindlessly, flipping through a book.

“..Nance.”

“what, you asked me, I answered.” She said with a small chuckle.

Joyce Byers;

- she catches onto your flirting but she overthinks it and eventually comes to the conclusion that you're just being friendly.

- a good thing about your flirting is that it would lighten her mood if she's upset or deep in thought.

- she jokes back at your flirting but immediately regrets it, thinking she sounded stupid

- she loves when you wrap an arm around her shoulders, it gives her a sense of security. Some sort of it, anyway. Always gives you a small slightly awkward smile when you initiate physical contact with her, too.

- so afraid of being misled that even when you sent her flowers, a huge bouquet of it, she thought it was a friendly gesture, again. Jonathan and Will argued with her about it.

- is finally convinced that you're into her when you wink at her across the room, being discreet.

- no seriously, all of that and the only time she thinks you're into her when you're winking at her. Not when you're openly flirting with her or sending her gifts..

Jim Hopper;

- DOESN'T EVEN LOOK AT YOU.

- everyone at the police department knew you flirted with Jim. But due to him ignoring you constantly, you gave your pick up lines to his co-workers, and made them say the cheesy words to him. Ended them with a 'yours truly, [Name]'. Always.

- that got him to talk to you. He was pissed off, sure, but he still talked to you. And that was better than nothing. Told you to stop - you didn't.

- dude threatened to arrest you for harassment.

- he'd clench his jaw whenever he had to stand next to you.

“Can't tell if you're tense because you want to kiss me so bad or because you wanna beat the shit out of me.” you said, your tone amused yet held a hint of fake seriousness.

“I'm about to shoot you.” He answered, his tone flat and nonchalant.

“hm. not really fond of that idea, thanks though, Jimmy.”

That was his last straw and he genuinely pulled a gun on you.

- of course, after that, it didn't stop you from flirting with him anyway.

- whenever his colleagues see you nearby, they point you to him and urge him to ask you out. He was starting to hate everyone because of you.

Dmitri Antonov;

- Acts annoyed when you gush over his russian accent. though it makes him feel more comfortable about it, more confident.

- most of the time he flirts back in English. Or just says “oh yeah?” with a small smile of disbelief.

- whenever he responds to you in russian.. he is talking shit about you. Not that he hates you, but sometimes your words are too much for him and the only thing he can do is let it out through violently shit talking you. To convince himself that you're 'not all that'.

- deep down hle knows that you are though.

- if he feels flustered, he averts his gaze, shakes his head and/or buries his face in his hands.

- avoids talking to you at any given time, only does it when he has to.

- touch him in any sort of way and he's STIFF AS FUCK. dude's a statue. Unless he pushes you off.

Eddie Munson;

- feels extremely flattered when you flirt with him.

- of course, he flirts back.

- does an eyebrow wiggle anytime you say something suggestive.

- somehow manages to turn your normal sentences to awkward ones when he makes a dirty joke out of your words.

- “I lost my bracelet in a ball pit like a year ago,” you complained once the conversation turned to speaking about lost things.

“ball pit?” he asked, a small smile creeping up his face.

“Yeah?” You said with a raise of your eyebrow.

“Ball.. pit?”

“Dude.” you deadpanned.

- made a bet with Dustin that you're into him, that you're not just joking. Dustin had his suspicions but you didn't seem the type to like.. men. Or even if you did, you would've told him already.

- that's the biggest loss of his life. lil guy was FLABBERGASTED.

Jonathan Byers;

- cannot hold eye contact for the life of him.

- he gets kinda nervous when you're flirting. The first time you flirted dude was a stammering mess, fidgeting with his sleeves like a maniac.

- despite an established shyness he had around you, he enjoyed your company. you were a good friend.

- friend? You have never given someone so many hints that you like them.

- Argyle, when he was high, told Jonathan to just get together with you already because the pining was giving him second hand embarrassment.

- Jonathan has been even more shy around you since then.

- “That's a good photo, when'd you take that?” you asked simply, your eyes locked onto the photo in Jonathan's hand.

“Like-.. last month, uhm, during the trip-” he stammered out after a short pause, his head lowered. HE WAS BEET RED DUDE.

- “you have GOT to give me a kiss, I did such a good job?” You said in a joking manner.

Jonathan died inside, right then and there on the spot. His mouth hung open, staring at you wide-eyed.

Once you notice he was baffled, you huffed out a laugh. “I was kidding, you know. But I won't turn you down if you decide to actually kiss me-”

“[Name]—” he groaned out a whine of your name, disappointed by your last sentence as he tried to gather himself.

#male reader #fanfiction #headcanons #stranger things #mike wheeler #will byers #jane hopper #eleven hopper #lucas sinclair #dustin henderson #maxine mayfield #billy hargrove #steve harrington #nancy wheeler #joyce byers #jim hopper #dmitri antonov #eddie munson #jonathan byers

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elliewithcellie · 7 months ago

Text

Right in front of you

summary: reader complains about their bad luck finding a guy when the guy for them is literally right there (Steve Harrington x Reader)

wc: 796

cw: mention of bad boyfriend in the past, friends to lovers speedrun, reader is a little dummy but we love them. Gender neutral, but might be implied more fem. One bad word. Steve POV more or less

a/n: Just a little blurb i found in my files, nothin to it, but the ending made me smile so i figured i'd post it

“When will it be my turn, ya know?” you rambled on to your friend, Steve. “Like, you know I’m thrilled for my friends. The girls have gone through so much, and to see them grow and learn that they deserve the best and take on love again is more than anything I could ever ask for. I’m so happy for them.”

You paused, looking down at your hands, fiddling with a stray string on your sweater.

Steve sat in the silence, waiting for you to fill it again. But he knew you. He knew you weren’t sharing the whole truth. He watched your eyebrows furrow like you were fighting with the words in your mind.

“I’m sensing a ‘but’ in there,” Steve said.

You sighed. “It’s silly.”

“That’s ok.” Steve brushed the hair from your face to behind your ear. “Talk to me.”

“It’s just that I was with them through all of it. We all started in the same place. We all came from these shitty relationships, and we all worked together to heal. I worked so hard, Steve. I want you to believe me—”

“I do.”

“—When I tell you how hard I worked with these girls, I mean it. They became my everything. We became a family when I felt like I had no one.”

Steve couldn’t help but wince. It was hard hearing you talk about your past. His senses always overloaded with anger. For his dear friend he cared for more than anyone to be treated the way you were made his temperature rise. His heart pounded in his chest, but he let you continue.

“But I guess I’m just confused. You know? It’s like they’ve moved on without me, carrying on with their lives. But they were my life. Gosh, I wish you could meet them. You’d fit in so well with the whole gang, I swear.”

Again, Steve’s heart jumped. God, did he want that. For you to introduce him to your friends. Steve’s mind began to wander, thinking about the two of you traveling up to Utah together, meeting the girls that made you who you are today. He’d want to thank them individually for taking care of you. For allowing you to be comfortable enough to be vulnerable with him and allow him to love you. ‘Love you’? Oh, god. He didn’t realize.

“I’d love that,” he choked out.

“But what about me, Steve? What about me? I’m stuck in these patterns I want to get out of. I want to be independent and free. Just like them. But can I be super honest?” You looked up at Steve for the first time in this conversation.

“Of course.”

“I—I think I’m lonely. I’m really grateful that we’ve become friends because I don’t know what I would have done without you. But what do I have to do to have that special someone? I’ve put in the same work. But people aren’t looking at me like that, I guess.”

“That’s not true.”

“What? Of course, it is. How else do you explain that the only relationship I’ve been in was a narcissist taking advantage of me?”

Steve was taken aback by that. He watched your eyebrows crinkle together at the bridge of your nose, a last defense to fight the tears.

“Where’s my lineup of men then? Explain to me why I’m skirted at the bar so they can talk to Brenda, or I’m approached only so they can ask for her number.”

Steve huffed out a laugh. “You’re so dense sometimes, you know that?”

“Huh?”

“You’re so lost in your own head that you don’t even notice what’s right in front of you!”

“Oh, please. Name one guy who’s even flirted with me.”

“ME, you dumbass.”

“I, er, you, what?”

Steve didn’t waste another moment. He placed his hands on your cheeks and pulled you in for a kiss. It was brash, almost harsh in quality, with fervor as Steve pressed his lips against yours. He felt you settle against him, your hands reaching out to the back of his neck and hair.

Steve pulled away and looked you in your eyes. “Everything you want,” he began, “I want to be the one to give it to you. The intimacy you crave, the best friend wrapped in a man, that’s literally me. If you’ll have me, we can heal our scars together and work toward the goal of independence, one step at a time.”

“You really want that?”

“More than anything.”

This time, you pulled him into a kiss. This time, it was softer, kinder, but the passion remained.

You giggled. “And to think. I was crushing over you this whole time!”

Steve laughed. “God, you are a piece of work, you know that?”

#steve harrington #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington x reader

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steddieas-shegoes · 2 years ago

Text

The first time Dustin tried to get Steve and Eddie to meet, Eddie refused.

“You expect me to be nice to Steve Harrington? The King of Hawkins High?”

“I told you, that’s old news,” Dustin rolled his eyes.

“Last year isn’t exactly old news, Henderson.”

So Dustin let it be.

— — — — —

The second time they didn’t have a choice.

Eddie was wanted for murders he didn’t commit, and Steve was well-versed in the ways of the Upside Down.

When Eddie almost died, it was Steve who was able to carry him through the gate.

When Eddie was in the hospital for three weeks, it was Steve who sat by his side every night so he wouldn’t be alone with his nightmares.

When Eddie got out, it was Steve who brought him to his appointments and helped him get settled in the new government-provided house for him and Wayne.

When Eddie thought about it, Steve was probably the nicest guy he’d ever met.

— — — — — — — —

But Steve ended up having to go back to work when things got fixed up.

His parents left him the house, but otherwise cut him off.

Groceries and gas don’t pay for themselves.

So he saw him for an hour here or a few minutes there, always checking in when he dropped Dustin and Mike off for D&D.

Eddie started to wonder if Steve only hung out with him because he had like, survivors guilt or something. He had been so kind and caring, but clearly the clock ran out on that.

But to Dustin, it was just a reset.

Steve hadn’t changed, just his available time.

And it was time to do something about it.

— — — — — — —

They say the third time’s the charm, but in this case, it wasn’t.

In fact, Dustin almost gave up when this result ended in Eddie telling Steve to go fuck himself.

He didn’t know what happened, and he never found out, but Steve looked hurt, and Eddie shut himself in his room for three days.

— — — — — — —

Dustin was sick.

The flu was running rampant through the streets and school halls of Hawkins, leaving no person left untouched by the worst nausea and body aches known to humankind.

Also, Eddie’s dramatics may have been rubbing off on him. Just a little.

So he couldn’t go to Hellfire, and without him, they couldn’t finish the campaign.

But in his drug-addled mind, he thought of a resolution. Potentially. But bribery would have to be involved.

So he called Steve.

“Steve.” He turned up the pitifully low rasp of his voice to make it seem like he was dying. “I need you to cover me at Hellfire.”

“Why? So Eddie can tell me to go fuck myself again? No thanks.”

“Dude. Please. I’m too sick. Everyone’s been wanting to finish this campaign for a month.”

“Can’t they reschedule when you’re better.”

Well, yeah, probably. Eddie had been way more open to rescheduling since everything happened.

That would ruin his plan, though.

“C’mon, Steve! I’ll owe you!” He coughed to add to the drama of it all.

“Fine! Fine.” Steve sighed. “I hope you know you’re gonna lose.”

“Nah, it’s a team effort. Everyone will help you.”

“Sure.” Then, because Steve was Steve: “Need anything, Henderson?”

Dustin almost felt bad about what he was making Steve do. Almost.

“No, mom’s making me a broth soup to try to sip on.”

“Okay, call tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow.”

If Dustin wasn’t as sick as he was, he probably would have tried to stay awake to call tonight.

But he fell asleep within minutes.

— — — — — — — —

“I’m sorry, you’re what?”

Steve rolled his eyes and placed his hands on his hips. “Filling in for Dustin. He’s sick.”

“You can’t do that.”

“He said I could.”

“He doesn’t run Hellfire, does he?”

“Shouldn’t he? Since you graduated?”

Eddie glared.

“If you two are done bickering like old ladies fighting over the same man in the nursing home, we have a campaign to finish,” Erica said from her seat, looking at her nails instead of at them.

“You heard Lady Applejack,” Eddie gestures towards the table.

Steve sat in the largest chair at the end and leaned back.

Everyone was staring at him.

“You’re not that dense. You can’t be.”

Steve looked up at Eddie with a smirk.

“Is there a problem?”

“That’s the DM seat. I’m the DM. Therefore, my seat.”

“It’s big enough to share. I like the view from here.”

“You can see all my notes from here!”

“Exactly.”

Eddie’s face was so red, it was a wonder he hadn’t exploded yet.

But he didn’t continue arguing. To Steve’s delight, and Dustin’s if he were there to see it, Eddie sat down on the edge of the chair. Steve scooted over a little, but they were pushing each other and being immature and stupid.

They both fell on their asses and Lucas finally spoke up.

“Can we just reschedule? This isn’t gonna work.”

“No. We’re so close. Dustin wouldn’t have sent Steve if he wanted us to reschedule.”

Eddie looked at Steve, searching his face for something. Whatever it was, he must’ve found it.

“Alright. Steve’s in my lap. Let’s go.”

He clapped and pulled himself back into the chair, patting his thigh and smiling at Steve.

“The whole game?”

“It’s this or Dustin’s spot over there.”

Steve wasn’t having that. He deserved this spot.

He stood up and sat down in Eddie’s lap, ignoring the way his stomach fluttered at being close enough to smell the shampoo Eddie used. Eddie’s hands settled on his hips to hold him in place while he leaned around to check his notes.

“Let’s begin!”

Luckily, Steve didn’t have to do much. The rest of the group kind of played for him, knowing he was just a warm body at the table.

And he was certainly warm.

Eddie’s hands had been finding new places to touch on his sides or legs or back or stomach all night. It was distracting. It was annoying. It was intoxicating and addicting and Steve never wanted to leave.

He was completely zoned out, barely registering he was supposed to be an active participant in this fucking game when he felt a light smack on his thigh.

He let out a whine.

And then reality came crashing in.

Everyone was staring at him with raised eyebrows. Eddie was completely still under him. He was mortified.

But he still didn’t want to get up.

He kind of just wanted to turn around and bury his face in Eddie’s neck.

As soon as he has the thought, his body is making it happen. ‘Your wish is my command,’ it’s saying in excitement.

Within seconds, his body is turned facing a shell-shocked Eddie, legs using the space between Eddie’s back and the back of the chair to wrap around his waist, and his face burying itself into his neck. He let out a much quieter whine, and felt his whole body relax.

A hand was on the back of his head, keeping him in place, and he sighed.

He could feel vibrations, like Eddie was speaking, but his head was cloudy and he couldn’t quite figure out what it was he was saying.

It didn’t really matter anyways. He was cozy and safe and relaxed for maybe the first time ever. Unless Eddie physically removed him from his spot, he wasn’t moving.

Time passed, but Steve couldn’t take a guess at how much.

“Stevie? You awake?”

“Mhm.”

“You wanna get comfy?”

“Am.”

He felt Eddie laugh more than he heard it, but he just snuggled further into Eddie’s neck, bunching his shirt in his hands.

“Okay, I’m just gonna pick you up and go to the bedroom. It’ll be better to sleep.”

Sleep? Was it that late? Where was everyone else?

“Shhh. It’s okay. Just squeeze your legs around my waist and hold on.”

Steve followed his instructions to the letter and he could’ve sworn he heard Eddie whisper “good boy” into his ear, but that could’ve been wishful thinking.

The next thing he knew, Eddie was sitting on the edge of his own bed with Steve in the same position on his lap.

“Wanna get in comfy clothes?”

Steve shook his head.

He was so tired.

“When’s the last time you slept?”

“Dunno. Week?”

“A week?! Steve…”

“Shhh. Sleepy.”

“No shit. You haven’t slept in a week.” Eddie sighed and then somehow managed to get them both settled in bed, Steve’s body almost entirely on top of Eddie’s. “Get some rest, sweetheart.”

“Mkay.”

Eddie kissed the top of his head, but he was already almost completely asleep.

— — — — — — —

“So he just…cuddled him? Right there at the table?”

Dustin couldn’t believe his plan worked and he wasn’t even there.

“It was awful,” Erica spit out.

“It was weird,” Lucas added.

“It was disgusting,” Mike said, pointing a glare at Dustin. “I wish I had the flu so I could’ve missed it.”

“And has anyone checked in on them since?”

Two days had passed and Dustin was finally able to keep solid foods down and his fever broke more than 12 hours before. His mom was even going to let him call Suzy later.

“Uh. Should we?”

“Lucas! Dude! They may have turned on each other.”

“Yeah, more like turned each other on,” Erica mumbled.

They all stared at each other, disgusted at the thought of their friend and babysitter being close.

“Gross.”

But Dustin smiled anyway. His plan finally worked.

#steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #stranger things #headcanon #tumblr drabbles #dustin henderson #Dustin the meddler #that should be his d&d class tbh #idk what this is? I just furiously typed this out on my phone for the last 30 minutes #it felt important at the time

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sidekick-hero · 10 months ago

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(steddie | teen | 2.5k | tags: different first meeting, emotional hurt/comfort | summary: What happens when Steve meets Eddie Munson, who has just failed his senior year for the first time, during one of his nightly drives? | @steddielovemonth prompt Love is asking, "do you want a blanket?" by @thefreakandthehair | AO3)

Steve's life was completely turned upside down (theoretically he sees the humor in this, but in practice the trauma trumps the pun) six months and six days ago when he came face-to-face with a honest-to-God inter-dimensional monster and barely survived to not tell the tale thanks to an airtight and frankly scary NDA.

He should be over it by now, right? He shouldn't be waking up screaming, drenched in his own sweat and shaking all over, his heart racing in his chest and his stomach in his throat.

Right.

Well, he's not. He doesn't get over it. The nightmares don't go away. If anything, he feels like they're getting worse, his mind adding horrible details and things that didn't happen, but could have, to keep torturing him.

He's a fucking mess.

Steve Harrington is a mess. His grades are slipping, on their way to joining his social status at rock bottom, and even his performance as co-captain of the swim team and basketball team is suffering from lack of sleep.

The only thing he has going for him is Nancy. Nancy, who doesn't understand that Steve just wants to get over the horror and the paranoia, just wants his life back, just wants to be normal again.

She doesn't say it outright, but he knows she thinks he's selfish, too self-centered to care about anything but himself. Sure, he's made amends with Jonathan and cut ties with Tommy and Carol, but deep down, Nancy doesn't think he's changed all that much. He's not Jonathan, he's not mature and monosyllabic and introspective. Just dumb little Steve, pretty to look at but not much else to offer.

These are the things he ponders during his late-night drives when another nightmare keeps him awake. It's impossible to fall asleep with terror pumping through his veins, so instead he climbs into his car and just drives. Some nights he will drive for hours, music playing softly from one of his tapes, Queen, Springsteen, Tears For Fears, Bon Jovi.

Tonight his drive takes him to the edge of town, right where a dirt road leads to the quarry. Steve has no idea why, but something makes him actually leave the main road and turn onto it. He follows it where it leads into the woods, slowing down on the bumpy road until he sees the dense cluster of trees open up to reveal a glimpse of the starry night sky. The path seems to open up into a clearing, and just there, to the right, Steve spots an old van.

He knows the car, has seen it often enough in the parking lot of Hawkins High to know that it belongs to none other than Eddie Munson, local drug dealer and freak.

At least that's what everyone keeps calling him, and sure, the guy seems a little weird, with his speeches on cafeteria tables, his dramatic antics in and out of class. He certainly doesn't look like most of the other kids, with his ripped jeans (clearly from wear and tear rather than fashion sense), long, unruly curls, and loud shirts advertising bands Steve has never heard of. People also shit on him for his father and for living in a trailer park, but none of that sounds particularly freaky to Steve.

Knowing what he does now, though, it worries him to think of Munson all alone out here where anything could happen to him. He doesn't know Munson, just about him, but Steve couldn't live with himself if he came to school on Monday and found Munson missing. One person has already died because of his carelessness, and no one deserves to suffer the same fate as Nancy's friend Barb.

Parking his car right next to Munson's, Steve climbs out and walks around the car to the trunk to pick up the nail bat that saved his life and the lives of Nancy and Jonathan. Then he makes his way to the opening of the clearing ahead.

Stepping out of the trees, Steve stops to take in the sight before him.

Above him stretches the inky expanse of the night sky, a seemingly endless void painted with a myriad of distant stars. The moonlight danced along the jagged edges of the quarry, revealing the vastness of the rocky landscape below in a silvery glow. The only sound that broke the silence of the night was the occasional soft rustle of leaves. The air was crisp and clean, carrying with it a hint of earthiness from the rocky terrain. In this secluded enclave, far from the lights of the city, the stars were front and center, and Steve felt unbelievably small.

With his shoulders hunched over his ears and his arms slung protectively around his knees, the figure sitting on the edge of the cliff looks even smaller than he feels.

It seems that Munson didn't even hear his car approaching, and that makes Steve's hair stand on end because it means that anyone, anything could have snuck up on him. It's not safe.

Steve approaches cautiously, trying his best not to startle the other boy and cause him to fall to his certain death.

"Munson?" He asks softly, quietly, but to no avail. It still causes Munson to flail in surprise, and only Steve's quick reflexes keep him from falling over the edge. With his knees still smarting from the sudden drop to the ground, Steve has his arm wrapped around the other boy, and both of them are panting from the shock.

"Fuck, man, are you trying to kill me?" Munson's voice quavers too much to be truly biting.

Steve carefully loosens his grip on Munson and leans back to sit on his haunches. Running a slightly trembling hand through his hair, he can't help but bite back. "If you paid more attention to what was going on around you, you would have heard me coming. I wasn't really trying to be subtle. It's like you want to get killed."

Munson scoots away from the edge of the cliff and climbs to his feet to look down at Steve and the nail bat he dropped when he made a grab for the other boy. He raises a judgmental eyebrow, causing Steve's defenses to go up in an instant.

They look at each other, brown meeting hazel, until Munson breaks the silence. "By someone walking around with a nail-studded bat, you mean?"

"I wasn't going to hit you with it!" And crap, abort Harrington, abort.

Now both eyebrows look at him questioningly. "And who, pray tell, pissed off King Steve enough to deserve this kind of treatment?"

"No one! For God's sake, I thought you might be in danger and wanted to be prepared in case you were." Then he adds, "After what happened to Will Byers and Barbara Holland, you'd think people in this town would be more careful instead of hanging out in the woods in the middle of the night."

Ed-No, Munson's eyes soften at his explanation. "Shit, sorry man. You're right, I guess." Shuffling his feet, he offers his own explanation for his harsh reaction. "Just had a shitty day, I guess. I shouldn't have bitten your head off for trying to look out for me. Although I never thought King Steve would ride in on his white horse to save the school freak from unimaginable evil."

"White horse? What, like a knight? Does that make you the damsel in distress, Munson?"

Munson gets a strange look on his face at Steve's words, and before he knows what's happening, the guy pretends to faint right into his arms. He catches him just before he hits the ground and feels how cold the boy's body is in his thin t-shirt. "My savior," Munson croons, and Steve rolls his eyes at his antics. Still not a freak, but definitely weird.

Instead of dignifying this with an answer, Steve says, "You're freezing, man. What are you doing out here in the middle of the night anyway?"

Dark brown eyes search his, and Steve thinks he's never seen such expressive eyes. He can read a myriad of emotions in them and he doesn't even know the guy. Sadness, caution, defeat, and something he's seen in the mirror a lot in the last few months: fear.

"I bet you have better things to do than listen to my sad little problems. Can't imagine you're just running around town rescuing damsels in distress now, I'm sure you have places to be, a kingdom to rule..."

"Could you just drop the whole 'King Steve' crap, man? I'm not him. Not anymore. Even if nobody seems to have gotten the memo."

"Okay, woah, sorry, man. I didn't know this was such a touchy subject."

"Do you want me to call you a freak and make assumptions about you based solely on high school gossip?"

"I don't know, don't you?"

"I'm trying not to. You don't have to tell me what's going on if you don't want to. I'm just saying... I know what it's like when you can't stand lying in your bed staring at the ceiling any longer. Wanting to get out and leave whatever it is that's bothering you behind, but no matter how fast you drive, it keeps catching up with you."

He's rambling, he knows he is, he didn't plan on unburdening his heart to Eddie Munson of all people, but here they are.

"I failed senior year." Eddie finally admits in a small voice, not meeting Steve's eyes.

"Oh."

"Yeah."

"Fuck, man. That sucks. Can you repeat it?"

"Sure. But I... God, everyone was right all along. I'm a failure, a fuckup. Just like my dad. A good-for-nothing waste of space. I haven't even told Wayne, I can't stand the look in his eyes when I tell him". There are tears in Eddie's eyes and Steve's heart breaks for him.

"Fuck!" Eddie shouts across the quarry and a flock of birds takes flight somewhere in the nearby woods. He's shaking again, and this time it's not from the adrenaline. Steve can't really take away any of the things that are weighing on Eddie, but he can offer him something else.

"Do you want a blanket?"

Eddie's doe eyes blink at him slowly, as if he's not sure he heard him right.

"You're only wearing a T-shirt, you must be cold." Eddie doesn't deny it. "Let me get you a blanket, then."

Another slow blink, and then, "If you're...sure?"

Steve gives him a smile that he hopes is warm and reassuring. "I'm sure." He walks over to his BMW and takes the nail bat with him, exchanging it for the blanket that he keeps in the trunk of his car at all times. Tommy H. calls it the "baby maker blanket," which is so typical of Tommy that Steve wonders why he was hanging out with him at all. Maybe because he was a friend to Steve when no one else would be.

But maybe he won't tell Eddie about the blanket's history. Anyway, it's freshly washed and smells only of his detergent.

Handing it to the boy, Steve says, "There you go," before turning to walk back to his car.

"Where are you going?"

When Steve turns back, Eddie is sitting on the ground with the blanket around his shoulder, one end held open as if inviting Steve to join him.

"Back home?" It's not supposed to sound like a question, but some of his reluctance to leave seeps into it anyway. He doesn't want to go home to his empty house and bed, afraid to close his eyes in case the nightmares come back.

"Look, you don't have to, of course, but if you want, you can stay and tell me what brought you here in the middle of the night. Or not. We could just sit here in silence, totally fine with me."

Steve snorts, because even though this is the first time he's had a conversation with Eddie, he can already tell that silence doesn't come easy to him.

"If you're sure," he repeats Eddie's words back to him as he makes his way over to him.

"I'm sure," Eddie says firmly, wrapping the blanket around Steve as soon as he sits down next to him.

Many things surprised Steve that night, but most of all how comfortable the silence between him and Eddie had felt as they watched the stars until they gave way to the rising sun.

They never talked about that night again, the polite nods in the halls all the acknowledgment they allowed for what had happened.

But when Steve walks across the stage to receive his diploma in 1985, he notices Eddie's absence and his heart aches for him. He had been looking forward to seeing Eddie walk across the stage next to him, to give him a smile, a wink. Maybe even ask him out for a celebratory beer, if he's being completely honest with himself.

The sad truth is: Steve had no one to spend his graduation with, no girlfriend, no friends, just a 13-year-old know-it-all whose bedtime didn't really allow for any kind of grown-up celebration. Eddie was his only hope of not being alone tonight.

That's probably why he's heading out to the quarry again that night, bat and blanket in tow.

It's a shot in the dark, and at the same time it's not. Because there Eddie is, sitting on the edge again, small and defeated, and just as alone as Steve. Without a word, Steve joins him on the ground and wraps the blanket around them both.

"I'm sorry."

Eddie's warm weight settles against him. "Me too." Silence falls between them, and Steve thinks that's all they'll say, but then Eddie nudges his shoulder with his own and says, "I'm sorry, too. About Wheeler."

"Me too."

Steve thinks that even if he's not a poet, there's something symbolic in the way they both watch the sun rise again over the quarry.

The next time he wrapped the blanket around Eddie, it was again in the middle of the night. Only this time, Eddie is unconscious in the back of his car while Steve races to the hospital, praying to any God who will listen that this will not be the last time.

It isn't. Not by a long shot. Getting the blood out is not easy, but with Joyce's help he manages. The blanket is there when physical therapy is especially grueling, when they both sit on the porch of Eddie's new trailer, Steve holding Eddie under the blanket's protective cover.

It's there when Steve moves in with the Munsons and gets a special place on Eddie's bed, though they never make love on it. The blood was hard enough to get out, and the material doesn't look like it can take much more deep cleaning.

They take it with them when they move to their apartment in Chicago, and it's there for every bad day either of them has.

Their blanket finds its final purpose, however, with the arrival of their daughter, April. From the day their little bundle of joy moves in with them, she sleeps wrapped in the foundation of Steve and Eddie's love.

Steve may not be a poet, that's Eddie's job, but he appreciates the symbolism all the same.

#steddie #steddie fanfiction #stranger things fanfiction #steve harrington #eddie munson #steddielovemonth #day 25 #love is asking “do you want a blanket?”#my writing

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tfyoulookingatgiuxs · 4 months ago

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So Hargrove...can I be your favorite?

Billy Hargrove x Female!Reader

𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘: At a party of the most popular girl in school, as well as your class, you find yourself letting yourself go, and maybe even a little too much...

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒: SMUT!!! +18!!!, Female!reader, Fuckboy!Billy, drunk sex, oral (female receives), overstimulation, begging, dirty talking, squirting, blood, violence, fights, alchol, themes about sex, bad language, some fluff, everything is consensual!!!

𝐀/𝐍: I haven't updated in a while, I know. I'll try to be more present and update and write more! Meanwhile, here's something about Billy, since I don't write much about him. Remember that you can ask me to write something else about this character as well as others! Sorry for my english this is not my native language. Please support new writers and reblog! Hope you enjoy! (DIVIDER NOT MINE)

You don't know what made you go there. You weren't much of a party person, much less the idea of trying to go to one. But this time it was different. You were convinced by your friends, but above all by Nancy Wheeler. She wanted to go because her boyfriend Steve Harrington was going to be there, and apparently Billy Hargrove was going to be there too. You didn't know how Nancy found out about your secret crush, and yet there she was, snidely telling you that Hargrove was going to show up at Stacy's Halloween-themed party. You had always been a bit like "Princess Nancy Wheeler", the quiet one, who got good grades and seemingly never made mistakes. You knew the popular people at Hawkins High, in the end they were all the same: good reputation, good looks, surrounded by friends and excellent charisma. However, people like that turn out to be too superficial for you, and Harrington was an example. You had never liked him, it was always the same as someone who thought he was someone because he was rich, even if after what happened with Nancy he seemed to have changed, but what he had done to your best friend was difficult to forgive.

But Billy, even though he seemed more dense than Harrington, left you under his spell. You hadn't been the usual admirer watching him from afar, but you had opportunities to talk to him. He was really an asshole, you could admit it, but you sensed that he wasn't doing well at home. What he was able to reply to you, however, was a "get out of the way" with a threatening attitude. There was no bad blood between you, but you couldn't deny that he wasn't beautiful, you were also sorry that he felt this hatred towards you. But then why were you going to the party? What were you hoping to do? Just to have fun? But then why did you agree to go to the party just because Billy would be there? Questions that were difficult to answer, but maybe drinking and having fun to the rhythm of music would have been better instead of going to your head.

You both rushed to the house, was the whole school there? Hell, there were so many people and the house wasn't even big enough to contain all those people. Nancy was wearing a simple white shirt and black trousers and an adorable hairstyle, while you didn't really want to be Halloween themed so you sported a simple colored t-shirt and a black skirt, just so as not to attract too much attention. You entered and the music immediately brightened your mood, you and Nancy immediately catapulted onto the dance floor, or at least that's what you nicknamed it. Steve still hadn't arrived and you took the opportunity to dance with Nancy. Then she would go and make out with Steve and do who knows what. You would be alone, and you would wonder as you danced what you would do in that time. You could have made friends with someone, even if you think these drunk people can't be the typical friends you always wanted. You could have walked around the yard, which wasn't a bad idea, but you calculated the likelihood of finding a mass of people screaming for alcohol. You wonder what I actually came to do. Just to keep Nancy company until Steve showed up? Oh no. You let yourself be convinced, for whom? For Billy. You could just imagine drunk Billy screaming like a five year old. As much as the image made you laugh, you didn't want to think about it.

"Hey girls!" Steve Harrington shows up wearing sunglasses (what is he doing with sunglasses if it's dark?) and his usual grin when he sees Nancy as fresh as a newly bloomed flower. You and Nancy say hello to the handsome boy. You hear little because of the music but you can communicate.

“How's it going out there?” You ask since you were opting to take a quiet walk.

"They've gone absolutely crazy, ever since that dickhead Billy Hargrove became the 'new king' everyone seems to be drooling over him, even the boys, dammit!" Steve makes quotation marks with his fingers and you heard annoyance in those words. Steve is now no longer the most popular student, he has decided to take away this role now defined by him as useless, but you learned through Nancy, that Steve is targeted by him and mocks him for being the former king of Hawkins High. Billy could be a real bastard, and you experienced it yourself. You decided you wanted to drop the topic as you didn't want to start talking about him, but instead you talked about the owner of the house and what her parents thought about it, and more importantly whether she'll be able to clean up the mess before her parents get back. You, Steve and Nancy danced a little. It was pretty depressing since you were the third wheel, but you didn't let your best friend know about it. You were having fun until: "Steve and I are going away for a moment, we'll be right back" You were screwed. You would have been alone for hours in the middle of, perhaps, the whole school. You nodded, and thought "But yeah, I'll be fine" the biggest lie you could tell yourself.

You've been around the house for who knows how long. In the end your suspicions were true. Steve and Nancy were having sex in the bathroom. Let's say it wasn't that hard for you to hear "Oh Steve!" Beyond the door. You wished you hadn't heard it. The music apparently wasn't loud enough...

You took refuge in the kitchen, near the thousand beer bottles and red plastic cups. At that table in the middle of the kitchen there were all the alcohol possible and imaginable. However this didn't matter to you, this was because you heard some noise. The usual group accompanied by, guess? Oh, right. Billy Hargrove came toward the kitchen. He had an unbuttoned dark shirt that showed off his sculpted muscles. You were seriously speechless, and you couldn't take your eyes off his chest. Now you remembered why you were there. Billy. Jesus Christ! Even though he was a piece of shit, Billy was seriously handsome and sexy. He shifted his gaze towards you, and you swore those crystal blue eyes of his pierced you. You craved it. Even though he hated you, you wanted to be his favorite. You didn't know what you would do to become one, but you would try. The two of you looked at each other for what seemed like an eternity, until a voice made you turn around.

"Are you here too?" A familiar boy's voice made you put your feet back on the ground. You recognized Scott, your former classmate. He flunked out and you didn't know much about him, you never ran into him. You thought because, as usual, he didn't come to school because he didn't feel like it.

"Hi Scott. Yes, I let myself be convinced, but you never stopped attending parties" You replied, taking a glass and pouring some alcohol into it, you would never have imagined taking that step except that same evening. He chuckled.

“Yes, well, every now and then I like to meet new people, and see familiar people again” he smirked at you. You were quite embarrassed because you never expected to meet him again. Scott wasn't the kind of guy you hung out with, he was just lazy and did nothing but make fun of others. You had the opportunity to talk to him because he was the one who spoke to you, and also because every now and then you carried out group tasks together, even if in the end you always had to do everything alone because he didn't bother doing his. His green eyes sized you up as Billy's group had gotten even closer to you. Apparently they were eager to make use of the beer on the table. You heard Billy's voice behind you, you were back to back. Only space limited your backs from touching. Scott seemed quite annoyed by their presence.

"Come with me, it's too loud here" he pointed to the group and made a face to mock them. Should you have laughed? You don't know. But that didn't excite you. At first you shook your head no. Oddly enough, you were safe in the company of the slightly drunk Billy group, who in the company of Scott. But he grabbed your wrist and dragged you away.

"Hey!" You exclaimed to Scott and bumped into some people on the way. You've heard people behind you say things like, "Oh look! They're having fun." or "Those two are going to fuck!" and annoyed people say "Be careful you pieces of shit!"

You tried to escape the hold, but Scott was stronger than you. Scott wasn't responding and was intent on taking you to a room of his choice, which worried you. Then you felt a strong grip on your shoulder and a large hand release Scott's grip. Billy was next to you and he looked furious. Scott turned around with his head held high.

“Get the fuck off Hargrove!” He told him.

“Let her go Smith, and you will be spared,” he almost whispered. Meanwhile the music was always at full volume and people didn't seem to notice. But it was as if in that large living room there were only you, Scott and Billy, and no one else.

"You think you're scaring me? It's none of your business, now get the fuck out" Scott repeated in a threatening manner and you felt yourself sinking. He was perhaps the first person who dared to insult Hargrove with such superiority. Billy laughed his smirk as his golden curls fell forward.

“You touch her again, and I swear I'll slaughter you Smith” He threatened him and your cheeks turned red. He was saving you, like an angel sent from heaven, even though he is not a real angel. From that threat you thought Scott would listen but he looked at Billy and forcefully grabbed your wrist again pulling you towards him. Billy was faster though. He pushed you aside and the two fell to the ground causing everyone's attention. Scott was punched repeatedly while trying miserably to counter punch. His group basically encouraged him to do more, as apparently most people did. You were paralyzed and decided to leave.

You locked yourself in a bedroom. Probably in that of the owner's parents, but you didn't care. You wanted to leave. Coming to the party had been a bad idea, plus the alcohol was floating in your stomach making your head hurt. You still couldn't believe what had happened. You wish Nancy would come to you and say "Let's go home, it's getting late" but apparently she doesn't seem to want to do that. Exactly five minutes passed, and you heard the door open and Billy come in with a bloody nose, as well as shattered knuckles.

"Are you okay?" He asked. Apparently the achol hurts him if he asks you these questions. You nodded. His gaze didn't seem to convey any kind of emotion, but damn it intrigued you. “I butchered it, like I said” He continued.

"Did you have fun?" You ask sarcastically as you sit next to the double bed and he does the same.

“Yes, I always hated him” You had never thought that there was hatred between Scott and Billy, although the moment they spoke to each other and Scott's annoyed look towards his group, should have helped you understand it.

"Is he okay?" You asked worried though.

"Yes princess, the limp little cock is fine. Next time he will learn not to force you to do anything" You look at him strangely. You wanted to start an argument because of the nickname, but you let it go.

"He didn't force me to do anything" Reply.

"So you're telling me that you agreed to be dragged into a room like that?" His sentence leaves you speechless. He was right. You didn't know what Scott had in mind, but you certainly didn't want to find out. He let out a small laugh throwing his head back looking at you. “Oh Y/N, you can see everything on your face” Your cheeks are flushed. Anything?

"It is not true!" You were quite annoyed.

"Shall we test?"

"Alright!" you accepted the challenge.

"Let's see... you definitely let Harrington's girl convince you. You've never touched alcohol until this evening, and besides, all you do is desire me" He said confidently. You were absolutely amazed by his abilities to understand you.

"This isn't true!"

“Don’t lie to me” He replied seriously and you looked at him. You couldn't help but love eyes and lips like those, and he knew it. "I told you, you can see it in your face. You want me, even when you looked at me before. You were like, stubborn. Wanting me close. Like, I wanted you to be my favorite" Your heart has lost a heartbeat and your head still hurt from the alcohol, you also noticed Billy's shining eyes, also under the influence. You wanted to admit it. But you knew you couldn't be. Billy had been with many women and it was impossible that you, overnight, would become his favorite.

"I can't. I'll never be..." The words left your mouth and Billy stared at you for a while.

"Why not? Beacuse I had sex with everyone?" He stated. You nodded and he chuckled. "It doesn't mean anything. That's because I don't want relationships. So, we can do this: tonight you can be my favorite" He offered. And you, a model young student, intelligent and kind. How can you not accept a request like that? "Come on, I know you want it. I already know you're mine. When I saw you with Scott my patience was at its limit. Scott can't have the opportunity to fuck someone like you. I just had to, and no one else "You glared at him.

"Afterwards you know I'm going to insult you like there's no tomorrow?" You asked him.

"Yes, I know. But I don't mind" he smiled and you strangely did the same thing.

"So Hargrove...can I be your favorite?" He showed his white teeth and his hand caressed your cheek.

“Always,” he said and then pulled you into a passionate kiss. A kiss that seemed to only exist in films or soap operas. This wasn't your idea of the timid Billy Hargrove, but you didn't mind it, on the contrary, it excited you. You were sure that Billy was drunk, but you were sober enough to understand the desire that loomed in your body. The need for his skin on yours, and discovering the secrets beneath his robes. The kiss went from sweet and provocative to slowly becoming more frenetic and passionate. You immediately tangled your hands in his golden curls, feeling the softness. What was happening? Was this seriously happening? Even if it was just for one night, you wished it would last forever. The kiss stopped by slowly separating your lips, just enough time to admire each other. Then his grin. That grin that conquered every girl on the face of the earth. His rough hands reached under your shirt pulling it up. Underneath you had a lovely white bra that framed your boobs perfectly.

"Wow..." he managed to exclaim. He had certainly seen a lot of women in bras, maybe even sexier ones like those with lace. But his reaction seemed unique to you.

"What? You've never seen a woman in a bra?" You asked him in almost a whisper.

"Sure, but they all wore the usual sexy bras to impress. You, on the other hand, are just normal. I've never gone to bed with someone who wore a simple, normal bra. You're just as I expected..." He said while he caressed your breasts, feeling their softness. You let out a few sounds "sweet and adorable Y/N Williams. I understand why Scott wanted to fuck you so much. Too bad..." He stopped walking closer to you. Your lips inches apart and you swear you felt your pussy clench around nothing, but craved to feel it at any cost "...girls like you just need to feel the vein of my cock pulsing inside them, and nothing else, right Williams?" those dirty but exciting words made you blush. He could be blunt with his words, but you didn't mind. You nodded “Good then let me show you how I treat my favorites” He said as in one move he undid your bra revealing your hard nipples. His hands were quick to tease them as his plump lips began to kiss your neck softly and then leave a few marks. You decided to let go, to enjoy the moment. Your soft moans raised the boy's erection. You wanted to take the initiative, you took off Billy's jacket showing his powerful shoulders and sculpted muscles while your knee rubbed against the erection covered by the trousers. Billy let out a moan as he left you one last hickey. He grinned.

“It's okay, I heard you,” he whispered next to your neck.

“Please…” His head was spinning. You don't think you've ever wanted sex so much.

"Lie down on that bed like a good girl" he ordered you, and who were you to tell him no? You got up and lay on your stomach, still wearing your skirt. Billy admired you, already knowing that you were his, that tonight Billy Hargrove would take your virginity without being told twice. He caressed your thigh and noticed your white panties with a wet puddle in the center.

"You're already wet, is this the effect I have on you?" You nodded “You need to talk to me” he said seriously.

“Yes Billy” You replied looking at him between your legs. He parted them and started touching the wet spot with his finger making you jump. Your reaction made the boy sneer. His thumb then started rubbing on your clit still covered by the fabric, meanwhile delicate moans led you to close your legs slightly.

“Don't try it” He exclaimed, opening your legs again, this time even more. A groan escaped you. All that pleasure his thumb gave to your clit wasn't enough, as exciting and cute as it was, it wasn't exactly what you expected. But if you know Billy well, you know he can be full of surprises. Your breaths quickened and the boy's eyes didn't move from your face, now lost in the pleasure of his touch. You threw your head back feeling his thumb rub more intensely.

"Billy—" You said his name and then made more lewd sounds. He smiled.

"What is it? Do you want me to stop?" He said it in a strange tone. He knew the answer very well, he was just waiting for it.

“No. More–” You started to move. He laughed and stopped.

“I think she is ready now” He said and began to peel off your soaked panties. Meanwhile you tried to return to planet earth, and recover from the pleasure of before and focus on Billy who throws the garment away on the floor and buries his face between your legs. Without even saying anything, Billy started devouring them. His tongue played with your entrance as he held you in place with your large, strong hands. You threw your head back again feeling a different heat, a different pleasure. It was perhaps even better than his thumb. Up and down, continuously and then the most beautiful part: when those plump lips of his sucked your sensitive spot until you moaned louder. You continued to move, driven by the electric shocks that Billy gave you, then you buried your hand in his golden curls, feeling their softness.

“Fuck, your pussy tastes so good…I could devour it for hours” He almost whispered as he sank his hunger into your wet pussy again. Meanwhile you had become a mess. Billy's grip was strong on your thighs, you were sure that the mark would remain tomorrow. Plus, the heat was building and you felt like you were reaching your limit. You could only scream his name and pray he wouldn't stop.

“Bi—uh-fuck yeah” You tightened your grip and swore you heard him moan. You took a deep breath and tears began to roll down your face. You were reaching your limit and Billy noticed.

"Come on my face. Show me how much you love being my favorite" That's all you needed. You rolled your eyes back and that sweet warmth with Billy's tongue was the best thing you could feel. Your pussy tightened around the boy's tongue and when he stood up, for a moment you had his lips, as well as his nose and cheeks, soaked in your juice. You closed your eyes for a moment trying to catch your breath.

“Good girl,” you heard him and then felt the tingling of his curls still between your legs.

"Ah—" You grabbed and wrinkled the sheets of the bed as soon as you felt that feeling of pleasure again. Without even warning, Billy had started devouring you again. You wanted to stop him to give yourself time to recover, but then you saw him and the pleasure began to take possession of your body again. You fell back onto the soft mattress and started groping your tits while moaning with pleasure. If that meant being Billy Hargrove's favorite then you were committed to always being that. Your hard nipple was being touched by your fingers as Billy's tongue continued to dance on your poor tortured pussy. You had already had your first orgasm and soon you would have another, yes, Billy was full of surprises, he knows how to treat virgins well.

"You wanted more didn't you? Am I giving you what you wanted, or would you like me to stop?" That tone again. You hated it, but damn it I now had full power over you.

"No, don't stop! Please–" You begged trying to insert your hand into his hair. He took it, pressing his thumb into his palm.

“Please what?”

"Give me more. Make me come again, I want more" You were addicted to him by now. Billy Hagrove played like a continuous melody in your head. He laughed amusedly and went back to sucking and playing with your pussy lips, but this time the biting started too. Like a ferocious animal he began to nibble on your clit and you let out certain moans that did nothing but excite him. Billy had become a serious wild animal with his face buried in your pussy and you were at his service to satisfy him. Your grip on his curls tightened, and for a moment you swore you saw stars. You felt the wetness of your tears on the sides of your jaw which had intensified and made your vision blurry, but you only thought about wanting more, you were getting closer and closer and your lips began to say what your brain thought.

“Yesyesyesyesyesyes—oh fuck, Billy please don’t stop” You begged him and the excitement was at its peak. He groaned in response. However, the overstimulation was starting to burn and you couldn't take it anymore. Your second orgasm hit you and Billy pulled away from you admiring his masterpiece, all the wetness dripping down to your ass and obviously soaking the sheet. You had the chance to catch your breath and watch Billy's expression as he cleaned himself with his hand, and taste your juice through his fingers once again.

"Yes, you're my favorite Williams" you smiled at those words "But now you'd better get a hold of yourself, because soon you'll be doing much more than making those virginal noises of yours" He began, and you closed your eyes letting yourself be carried away by the night full of passion.

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