#man I just realized how much feelings I have over Steve Harrington as a character whoops

[wroteclassicaly]

Nancy decided she didn’t want Steve. And now that she’s been away from Jonathan, has seen the growth Steve had to go through from everything he experienced (trauma, torture, being cheated on, thrown into the upside down shit, not to mention what he was going through before all of that, etc), he’s suddenly worthy of still being in love with? Don’t mess me with that shit, sis. Steve was never a bad boyfriend, nor was he a bad person. Before I started the show I expected some MAJOR douchebag that fucked his gf and then left her when he got what he wanted. Man’s only downfall was calling Jonathan names and being an asshole to other people (not counting him breaking Jonathan’s camera. He deserved it for taking those pics of Nancy and y’all know it).

He approached Nancy the very next day after he took her virginity to check on her. He constantly apologized when it wasn’t his fault. He only lashed out when he was hurt (rightfully so), and when he realized what nasty people Carol and Tommy were — he ditched them. Could he have handled Barb’s death better — sure. But he was also dealing with it, probably confused and pushing it down, and he tried to make things seem normal for Nancy’s sake, and for his own.

This shit of Nancy being jealous of Robin was so ignorant that I almost puked. And this was before I even finished the series. I knew I didn’t like Stancy when I watched the first two episodes (4x09 and 1x01). Nancy has to claim over Steve. Their individual growths should NOT be entwined. If you look at the inconsistency in trying to resurrect that ship, it almost seems like the D bros hate Nancy and Steve.

Their reunion will undo so much shit, and in my opinion, will destroy them. Not to mention that Steve will probably sacrifice himself in the name of Nancy and her future (avoiding the white picket fence garbage she didn’t want, whilst still getting their Stancy resurrection). They stripped Steve of his goals, his aspirations, they made him seem like he couldn’t date anyone, degraded him, swept his trauma under the rug, made him the butt of everyone joke, made it seem as if he’s uneducated and ignorant. It breaks my heart how mistreated Steve is, and by trying to force him and Nancy back together — that is the biggest injustice that can be done towards them both, but mainly to him.

Steve deserves to find himself, to find his interests, to process his trauma, to find someone that he loves beyond nostalgia, that won’t come back to him after she’s already grown and realizes that this changed version is good enough.

Nancy deserves more than that.

But Steve Harrington deserves it all.

Joe Keery is the reason Steve was kept around, and I feel like this is just awful to do to the work he’s put in at making Steve the heart of this group of characters. ❤️🥺

[ebaylee422]

Decking the Halls

Steve Harrington X Girlfriend!reader

Author’s Note:  Angst to cute sex, I’m not sorry. This is post Season 3, pre Season 4. I just love being angsty. I also really needed to clear my drafts soooo X-mas in March everyone!

Summary: Stockings aren’t the only things being stuffed this Christmas season. Steve has never decorated for Christmas, he’s embarrassed and doesn’t want to ruin your sprit by avoiding you. Don’t worry though, he shows you just how appreciative he is after. 

Characters: Steve Harrington, Girlfriend reader, mentions of shitty parents and the rest of the ST nuggets. Best Friend Robin Buckley!!

Warnings/Tags: Smut (Minors DNI!!!) abandonment issues? as an intro, p in v sex, marking kink, praise kink, fem oral (receiving). breeding?

Word Count: 3k

Part One/?

You had tried everything to get Steve into the Christmas spirit: buying decorations for your apartment, getting matching pj’s, going to watch the lights in Indianapolis,  watching Christmas movies, the Ice-Skating was most regrettable because you fell forward and knocked your teeth hard enough to bleed. Even planning a white elephant with him and his friends, sharing hot cocoa and warmth of your space heater. What you didn’t know is as soon as he left your place he was greeted by his parents' empty house. Decorated from some stupid trendy catalog his mother only glanced at before swiping a credit card. His father, not even home long enough to realize the tinsel monstrosity within the living room. The presents underneath were fake, they stopped being real when his father told him to grow up. That Santa wasn’t real, saying he needed to start giving instead of hoping for some joy from a fat man each holiday season. So that’s exactly what he did, the first Christmas he’d enjoyed in a long time was on Christmas of 83’, when he was with Nancy. They’d gotten each other meaningful gifts, it was the happiest Christmas he thought he’d ever had. Even if he went home unable to look at his pool outside for too long knowing his friend had died. Even if there were disgusting monsters trying to eat his friends when they had the chance. How horrible humans were in comparison, like the Russians nearly beating him to death at Starcourt. Instead of celebrating what he was thankful for, he felt immense guilt every holiday. He’d confided in you once about his survivor's guilt, as you had called it a couple months ago during an intense flashback. You’d comfort him, make sure he wasn’t alone. He didn’t want to be anyone’s burden, Steve knew you were worried about him it would show whenever he ‘had’ to leave for work or Robin’s, or get clothes from his place.

It all came to a standstill when you’d asked him if he would come pick a Christmas Tree with you. Wanting to have it up before the kids came over, finish decking-the-halls you’d told him. Only Steve didn’t know what picking out a Christmas Tree was, sure it’s self explanatory but what if he made a fool of himself. With his pretty rich boy ‘I’ve never had to pick one out’, it seemed too intimate. Sure you’d bared your body-mind-and-soul to him, but wanting to do something so domestic together like picking out a Christmas Tree. For your first Christmas together as a couple, it was scary for him. So instead of being a Scrooge so he could work on his feelings, he faked an illness even going as far as calling out sick today. Keith hadn’t been too happy but chopped it up to Steve sucking too much face on the job and gave him the day anyway. And he was back to square one, an empty ugly house with none of your warmth. People would think his middle name was self-sabotage, especially when that door-bell rang. He got up from his cocoon from the coach with a groan, an aching shooting up to his spine when his socked feet hit the freezing hardwood. Shined and renewed for the inevitable party his parents would throw this Christmas Eve for work friends, where they forgot they even had a son. He stopped dead in his tracks shaking the sleep from his eyes when they were met with yours, holding a tote bag while shaking the light dusty of snow off your figure. It melted into your skin leaving you shiny with the dew, nose and ears kissed pink while your chin and neck were tucked tightly with the collar of your coat and scarf. You smiled at him as he studied your form, like an angel sent just for him. He was bundled up in simple joggers, thick wool socks and heavy blanket around his shoulders worn like a cape tucked around his body, but shirtless still despite it being nearly as cold inside as it is outside. Shaking your body of the remaining snow, laying the tote bag of groceries and sick necessities you’d brought over on the stairs so you could slide out of your heavy snow covered boots.

“Hi baby, how r’ you feeling?” you asked him with a voice full of sticky sweetness and adoration. His face changed in that moment from shock to guilty, you felt the change floating in the air like oil through water.

“What are you doing here?” He asked louder than either of you had expected, causing you to turn his way fully as you began to undo the ties of your coat. 

“I came to check on you, bring you some-”

“Why?” He scoffed, tucking the blanket to cover himself from the breezing air flow of the open hall. You were wearing a red corduroy skirt, with black stocking underneath and a cream sweater that didn’t even compare to how soft your hair was laid across your shoulders. You looked at him like he hung up the stars, even though you were the brightest thing about his life.

“Robin called me worried about you saying you called out because you were sick. So I canceled the tree plans to come check on you because you didn’t call me. I even whipped up some Chicken and Rice soup and scrunched up a couple medicines.”

“You shouldn’t have done that, I’m fine Y/N. You should go get your tree and I’ll see you on Friday like you planned.” he brushed off your kindness,

“Well I wanted to take care of you.” you told him shyly, "You haven't been around as often."

“Okay thanks.” he shook his head, body and tone still uncomfortable and unmatched of your own tenderness.

“Do you not want me here or something?” You scoffed with affection grabbing the bag from the stairs, stepping in front of him giddy with untamable affection.

“No.” He answered quickly and when your face dropped, his own heart went with it when you backed away from him. “No, I mean yes but not right now. I’m just-”

“It’s fine, Steve." You cut him off, turning away and grabbing your stuff. "I get it, I’m sorry I could’ve called.” he stopped you putting out his hand as an olive branch. You took it without hesitation, sniffling away the tears that built up for weeks of you arguing and avoiding each other. 

“Don’t you dare apologize, especially to me.” He took your reddened cheeks in his hands as he pressed a kiss to your temple, “I’m just being an idiot, I’m sorry but I’m not even sick so you doing all this nice shit over-” 

“I know you’re not sick, Steve. You’re a terrible faker.” You said factually, with a teasing tone. Still not looking at him but rather at your wiggling toes against the shiny floor.

“Oh really now? Robin didn’t tell you anything.”

“Well the strange, ‘Steve wanted my shift the same day he always has off’ the one day I could go tree picking with you. Then calling out and claiming illness, and not calling me is pretty obvious.” You let the bag fall again, his shoulders relaxed as you tugged on the length of his blanket. “Are you breaking up with me?” you asked with furrowed brows and a whimper to your voice.

“No!” Steve yelled, “No never no, I-I love you so much. You are my favorite everything Y/N.” He wrapped you both in the blanket tugging you flush against him. “I just have a hard time with the holidays, I don’t really know what to do with myself. I didn’t want to be embarrassed, it was a lot of pressure.” You both held each other silently letting the fear wash over both of you, until you giggled into his neck.

“I love you, Steve. Honestly, just talking to me would’ve saved us both a headache.” He sighed heavy as he wrapped his arms tighter around you, head resting on your chin.

“Jeez, what are we gonna do with me?” he whispered into your scalp, the fluffy hair on his chest tickling your cheek as you were held by his heart.

“I can think of one.” You pursed your lips, closing your eyes with your chin held high awaiting a kiss. He obliged you immediately, cupping your cheeks in his hands to accurately press his lips to yours. His hands were freezing, sending a shiver and gasp involuntarily out of you. Steve took the opportunity to lick into your mouth, tasting-ly. Pulling back before you could reciprocate, you whined gripping his biceps accidentally pushing off his blanket.

"I'm sorry." He whispered, nose brushing against yours.

"I didn't mean to pressure you, you just seem so sad."

"You make me happy."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah, you could meet me in an ice cream shop above a secret Russian base. While enjoying strawberry more than chocolate ice cream and you'll still make me happy." 

"Well, if our circumstances of meeting are the worst part of the relationship, I think that's a pretty good incentive to making better more normal memories, yeah?"

"Maybe." He kissed the tip of your still pink nose.

"Maybe, we could go back to my place? It's always freezing here." You added with a shiver making the hairs on your arms stand up.

"Not when you're here. Just stay here a second longer." His lips moved with their own incentive. It didn't take much convincing on either of your parts before you were upstairs in his room. A path of clothes thrown haphazardly off of each other through broken giggles and soft kisses, until your just in under clothes. He holds you to him as he opens the door to his room, and your feet barely touch the floor as he twirls the two of you around. Bringing you down with him as he falls backward on the bed with a thud. Kissing you with fondness, sweet like the honey color of his eyes. You loved him so much it hurt like the side pains after laughing so hard you teared up. Like when you realize that magic might not be real but people were and kindness. Kindness and compassion were the real magic. People found a reason to be with each other, even if it was once a year. Steve never had that. Everything in his life was transactional, Christmas, school, his parents, most other relationships. Those few closet to him probably haven't ever seen this side either. The checkered boy room with little to no traces of living aside from Steve's nightstand with Polaroids of everyone scattered about. A bin in his closet kept hidden away where he'd kept his Scoops Ahoy name tag, a letter from a pen-pal in sixth grade, ticket stubs of every drive in movie. Some more Polaroids for his eyes only you'd given him after you first started dating, and he'd left his shirt in your room. Even as you lay on top of him now, kisses sucked into your neck, his strong hands massaging your sides in worship. You couldn't help what words came out next.

"Come with me." You begged him breathlessly opening your eyes to see his lips swollen and slick, hair haloed and shaggy around his face and sheets. Like melting caramel against the ugly grey and navy bedding.

"Already babe, I haven't even touched you." He mumbled rocking his pelvis into yours, forcing your legs to accommodate him more with a thigh on either side of his hips. You sat up taller straddling him, a pout etched into your face.

"No, I mean. Come home with me, lets live together. I'll get rid of things you can bring whatever you want, I can dip into my tuition nest egg and buy whatever we need for the apartment. Make it yours too, or we can find another one that you like better. I just want you all to myself." He sat up holding onto your waist so you didn't fall, making you squeak with the shift in position. Your heart sank as his eyes were so wide they could've jumped out of his skull.

“What?” he asked as his breath caught in his throat, a pure swell of undoubtable happiness warming him from the tip of his nose down to his sock covered feet.

“It’s just, I wasn’t lying Stevie. I wanna take care of you, you give so much to every-” He kissed you, desperately. Teeth clashing and tongues forming together making you dizzy enough to loose balance upright on your knees. Pulling back to gasp for air, a string of spit connecting you to him. He wiped it away, tucking his head into your chest.

“You’re perfect. I’ll do anything to make you happy.”

“Even picking out a Christmas Tree with me?”

“I will grow you a damn Christmas Tree, even better I’ll get the kids to help me chop down one in my backyard!”

“Stevie! That’s dangerous.”

“Well, sweets. 

Danger.

Is.

My middle name.” He trailed four kisses down your body, stopping just shy of your covered mound. Hooking his fingers under the band of your underwear, biting your hip making you buck up long enough for him to shimmy them off your legs.

“I thought your middle name was Alexander?”

“You won’t your own name once I’m done with you.” He said sultry, kneeling at the foot of the bed. Yanking your ankles to bring you closer to his mouth, spreading your legs wide and over his shoulders. You were beautiful, regardless what you were doing but letting him take care of you. Make you feel good and be vulnerable, made his head spin. Your lips were sticky with arousal, he could smell your sweet nectar begging for him to taste you. Marks still slightly visible from last time, he started there sucking and biting the mailable flesh. 

“Stevie, please-” You cried out, hands trying to find purchase with his. He stopped sucking a bruise, eyes blown wide when he found yours. Locking your hands to your sides,

“Your so sweet, baby. Asking so nicely.” He chastely kissed on your hood, tongue licking underneath to wet and flick at your clit. You groaned and threw you head back, “So sweet, baby. Keep your legs open for me. I have a lot of apologizing to do down here.”

“Stevie, no I want you. Please.” You writhed on the bed trying to keep your legs spread for him, he blew cool air at your entrance causing you to clench around nothing. You body craved to be filled, senses overwhelmed of one thing: Steve, Steve, Steve!

“Just wanna warm you up, we have all the time in the world sweets. Wanna wreck this bed before leaving.” He was antagonizing you, teasing with his pretty words and slightly movements you couldn’t even respond him. He licked a line from your entrance to your clit, groaning at your taste. Hips colliding with the end of his bed to relieve pressure as he sucked your clit into his mouth. Rolling the bud with his tongue, your nail dug into his knuckles as you shook with ecstasy.

“ ‘S so good, Stevie. Don’t stop-” You were so pent up from earlier all it took was a few more rolls of his tongue against you and for you to fall apart. Concentrating on keeping your legs open for him, as he licked you clean. Nudging his nose against your sensitive clit, he let go of one of your hands tangling it in his hair.

“Hold it out of my face, baby. I want one more before I cum inside you.” He coated his fingers with your release, slowly sliding in one as his tongue still fucked into you. You couldn’t help rocking your hips against his face when he added another finger inside you. Scissoring, stretching you and rubbing against your spongy spot. You tugged at his locks when he came back up to suck at your clit again, you didn’t even notice the heat break in your belly until you gushed and clenched around his fingers. You pushed at his forehead from sensitivity, barely able to catch your breath when you pulled him up to kiss you. lips and chins dripping of you. Trailing your nails down his soft tummy following the happy trail underneath his boxers, you met him halfway stroking his thick cock with your slick. Still coating his hand, pre-cum dripping from his tip making the sounds completely pornographic.

“ ‘m not gonna last baby, want you so bad.” He whispered against your lips, breathing heavy with a sheen of sweat layering you both in the smell of sex.

“Need you too, wanted you ages ago.” You sassed, making him laugh against your cheek as he stood. You wrapped your legs around his waist, his cock twitched when it brushed against the inside of your thigh.

“You gotta big mouth on you, sweet girl.”

“You better do something about it, Harrington.” With a roguish grin he ran his length over your clit once before pushing ever so slightly inside. Taking your breaths away, you were the girl and only girl who could take Steve’s fat cock completely. He just has to ease you into it, inch by inch until his hip bone grazed the back of your thighs. Steve stood tall and far enough away you couldn’t kiss him from where you were sprawled out under him. You pulled and squeezed at your breasts still contained by your bra. His cock glistening with your slick as he pulled his hips back, then pushing deeper inside his sack pressed tight against your ass. Steve nearly loss his balance when you clenched around him, putting his hands under your knees. Folding you in half made it feel like he was in your throat, he leaned over you the pressure of his body as he set a ruthless pace set flames in your abdomen. Pounding his cock into you over and over again moaning out praises as he bullied all the way to your cervix. Punching breaths out of you watching as your tits bounced, you had enough pulling him fully on top you. Hands indenting his shoulders as your hips met his, clit pulsing and with need. 

“You feel so good. Shit, shit- I’m cumming, cumming inside.” Steve’s core tighten as he ran two finger over your clit, heat erupted across your body. You milked Steve dry, his warm seed and your three orgasms dripping from each others groin. You pulled him on top of you, comforted by his weight on you as his cock softened inside you. 

“Do you really want too?” You asked in the post orgasm bliss, running a hair through his now tangled locks. “I don’t want to trap you with amazing sex and joy but it’s definitely a perk.” Steve rose onto his elbows, still seated inside you. Brushing the hair out of your face, with softness.

“I’m sure we can wreck this bed a lot more than just cum stains.” Pushing at his chest, he pulled out of you gently. Scurrying to his bathroom where you listened as he turned on the faucet in the shower. Sitting up, he came back with all his glory. Hand raised for you to take, the same olive branch you’d given him at Starcourt. All this time. “I can’t wait to spend Christmas in our home, together.”

You’d never been so excited to spend the holidays with anyone else.

Masterlist 

[eddiernunson]

Found Again | Part 2 | Sequel to Trapped

Word Count: 5.2k

Summary: The year is 2005. Vecna is defeated, Steve Harrington is finding grey hairs. Eddie has already been dead for 19 years. Unfortunately, you have too. Since 1989. In a new life, new state, new friends, new school, you find yourself drawn to the new kid, and he to you. Something tells you it had to do with the dreams of a man with long hair when you were small.

Authors Note: To everyone who has read the parts of Trapped to read this, you are wonderful and I appreciate you! So this is the introduction to the character Eddie reincarnates into... and I hope you like him. Also I forgot the tags on the last chapter. I gotta get better at that.

You ran into the gymnasium as Coach Rudy introduces the newest junior year to their upcoming semester, and as it’s the first day of school he seems to ignore your tardiness. You find yourself sitting right next to Kaitlyn, thank god.

“Late already? Aren’t you usually on your best behaviour for the first week or so?” She asks, and yes, unfortunately tardiness is a habit of yours.

You grit your teeth in a smile, itching to tell her all about the mysterious new kid you just saw in the parking lot.

Coach Rudy was in the middle of explaining the introductory 'game' he was about to have you all play, the stupid one where you say your name and a fun fact about yourself, when said mysterious stranger pops into the gym, out of breath.

“Aah, this must be our new student.” Coach exclaimed, holding his hand out and walking towards him quite dramatically. It was a bit over the top, but again, there weren’t a lot of new students in your school. “Here, you can start us off. Introduce yourself, where you’re from, and one fun fact about yourself.”

For the record, where you’re from was only for the new kid. Most of the population of your high school were from here.

“Sorry, couldn’t,” he speaks, and holy hell, it sent shivers down your spine, and you suddenly wanted to spend hours talking to him. “Couldn’t find the gym. My name is Patrick, I’m from Ohio, and I broke my left thumb twice, at the same spot.” He holds out his hand, extending his thumb where you could see a dent on his first knuckle. Your eyes zoom in on it, fixated on him showing his hands.

The moment you had realized you were staring, you blinked away. It felt like slow-motion to you, but it only lasted half a second. You were startlingly aware of how much you wanted to endlessly linger over him without a care and these intense reactions were overwhelming you.

You saw this guy literally only ten minutes ago, get it together, girl!

“Welcome to our school, Patrick. Glad to have you here. Who’s next?” Painstakingly, you all sit in a circle and one at a time the twenty-five of you say your name and a fun fact. Some of them were weird, others were interesting.

Somehow your brain refused to tune in your classmates. How has this person affected you so much, and why does this feeling feel like coming home at the same time?

“Maddie, your turn?” Next to you Kaitlyn lightly bumps into you.

“Oh. I’m Maddie and my mom took me to a psychic when I was four.” It wasn’t exactly unknown; it became your fun-fact when you realized teachers would be pulling this stunt every year. Having known most of your classmates since you were 4, it makes no sense to be experimenting with fun facts when most of them have grown up with you.

“Boo.” Kaitlyn whispers, and you knew why.

Because of all the juicy secrets you have told her over the years, she could never get out of you why you had gone to a psychic. You were keen on not telling, it was nice to have a mystery that people had wanted to know. There were even rumors speculated as to why, none of them true.

The class introduction took the first forty-five minutes of class. The coach insisted that he wanted a judge free place where you’re free to play without judgement of your classmates. As always, Coach Rudy was met with furrowed eyebrows and rolling eyes. As much as he tries, and he truly does, it doesn’t negate that teenagers can be sneaky with their malice.

You had once rolled your eyes at upper classmates who insisted the class wasn’t all what it promised to be. That was when you learned teenage girls have such a quiet way of being cruel.

Turns out, anti-bullying policies are bullshit.

The second half of your class was spent separating into teams for a fun game of dodgeball. Yes, dodgeball. On the first day. At first period. You found yourself on opposing teams to both Kaitlyn and the newcomer your neck couldn’t stop turning back towards.

Rather than allow yourself the embarrassment of being one of the last ones because you didn’t participate then being hit in the face with a ball, you let yourself be one of the first out. You were not about to put yourself through that in front of him.

“Maddie!” Rudy blows his whistle, “more participation!”

You didn’t care if he called you out for not taking part, something Rudy was known to be passionate about. It was a preferable fate.

Turns out, Patrick was fantastic at dodge ball. He dodged effectively, his aim was skillful, and lastly, he didn’t shoot to kill. His shots were kind.

That was what stuck out to you. He had the ball in his court, but it never felt malicious, he was just enjoying the game. Damn this was really attractive, your mouth watering as you watched obsessively.

The bell rings minutes after Patrick hits the final standing on the court, and the other person laughs when he hits them with the ball. Patrick’s joy for the play of the game was contagious and the smile on his face spoke a thousand words. He meets up in the middle when Rudy calls you all over.

As you catch a closer glimpse, his forehead was beaded in sweat, poor kid is going to his first day having sweat everywhere without any gym clothes. You were sure Rudy didn’t think anyone would be that into the game, in fact it might've been the reason he chose this game to begin with.

After the class is dismissed, they all pick up their bags off the floor, something you would usually put in the locker room. Someone stands in your peripherals, clearing their throat to get your attention. You were sure it was Kaitlyn, but unless she has grown six inches over the span of five minutes and cut, curled, and dyed her hair, it wasn’t.

It was Patrick.

“Hey.” He greeted, his face still shiny, his smile contagious.

Your heart skipped a beat.

In fact, you thought it stopped working altogether for a solid minute before your brain even catches up.

“Hi.” You manage out, and your body feels like it’s in a time lock, stuck in place.

“I don’t know this school at all, I thought I’d be able to figure it out, but I was proven very wrong. Can you show me around?” How was this real?

Things like this didn’t just happen.

This literally felt as if the world had delivered him to you on a silver platter. Here you go, you’re welcome.

“Uh, sure. No problem.” You agreed, as if you didn’t spend the entire period staring at him obsessively. “Just one moment, ok?” You hold out a finger, walking slowly towards where Kaitlyn stand in a corner, gesturing wildly and wondering what the hell was going on.

“Ok. I’ll meet you in the hall.” He gestures towards the big doors on the opposite side of the gym, and you nod stiffly in response.

“Uh, did I miss something?” Kaitlyn demands as soon as he’s out of earshot.

The fact that you didn’t get any time to tell her about seeing him by the time he had approached you was almost too much for you to process. “So, I saw him in the parking lot, he showed up about five minutes before the bell, and I was one of the only students there. Maybe he recognized a familiar face?”

“Ok, but this isn't that. Whatever that was between you two, was insane.” She describes it, adjusting the pastel dress she had chosen for the first day. “Seriously. Like, I know you’ve been crushing on him but it’s obvious he likes you back.”

You make a weird face at her, shaking your head in disbelief. “No way. I was staring at him the whole time. He’s just gonna let me down gently.”

“The way he looked at you, no.” Your head shaking continued, insisting that she was delusional. “Whatever. I’m just saying, he literally could’ve just asked to be assigned a student to help him out, but instead he asked you.” She sighs, grabbing the already crumpled up schedule from her bag. “What do you have next?”

“Math.”

“Ew. I have Chemistry.” Damn it.

“I’ll see you later?” You call out as she runs to the opposite door that Patrick did.

“Text me, keep me updated on how it goes!” She shouted and the door shuts behind her.

Your feet suddenly rush to move, realizing you barely had the time to now both show Patrick and get to your class. With your luck he probably got tired of waiting for you and went to someone else for help.

Nope. He was leaning on a locker patiently, and he pushed himself off lightly, hands in his low sitting pocket pants as he walked to you.

Did-did your mouth just water?

“Uh, which class do you have next?” You ask him, suddenly aware you weren’t in class with him anymore, technically it was just you and him with extra people around you.

He pulls out his schedule, folded more neatly than Kaitlyn’s was. “Uh, Math.” He calls out.

You’re stunned into silence. “With Miss. Lipton?” You ask incredulously, and he nods his head quickly to confirm. “Damn. Same class, follow me.”

Ok. Now, this, this right here? Same class? What was this John Cusack bullshit that was happening and when was the other shoe gonna drop?

He follows you down the hall as you give a quick tour to that specific area of the school to which your footsteps covered. There was a fight last year by that trophy case, a teacher was found hooking up with a student under that staircase over a decade ago, and your freshman locker until you reached the room in the nick of time, only a handful of seats left.

Two of them happened to be next to one another, but you start to walk towards the one in the back, any assumptions that might be wrong would kill your insides. As you turn away from his seat he tugs you by a strap hanging from the bag that sits on your shoulder. When you turn back to him confused, he tilts his head to the desk next to him.

And while this had a part of your body floating on air, the other part was sinking via anvil. You couldn’t shake the feeling that this was too good to be true. It felt too right, like him asking you to show him around was always gonna happen. You were always going to forget your phone and see him run in late. It just made sense.

Too much sense. This sense of coming home just felt overpowering and it was a terrifying feeling towards someone you had just met.

A crazy part of you, a small boat in the sea of this is weird asked you, ‘If this is too good to be true, would it be so bad to believe in it?’

Nope, too crazy.

You sat next to him, Miss. Lipton welcoming all her students back, wrapped up the conversation she was having with her favoured students when until only minutes after the bell. “Morning, students. Welcome to Algebra II!”

Miss. Lipton is the only teacher that doesn’t want to torture you with the get to know one another game, in fact, she just wanted to get right into the learning and make sure her students knew her expectations. She was kind, but she was brutal when it came to missed assignments and homework.

While you were dreading a full semester starting off with gym and algebra, but if it meant you got to sit next to Patrick, maybe it won’t be so bad.

The only reason you know Ms. Lipton’s rules, is because you’ve heard them said to you twice already.  If this was your first time in her class you would’ve been screwed, your ears muffled like there’s no sound, all too aware of him within arm's reach. God, the three minutes of leading him to the classroom were being played on repeat, speaking to him, his laughter at a sillier expression you had made once announcing the scandal that was Mr. Wes, his easy stride next to yours.

Was your breathing this deep, or did you just think it was?

Miss. Lipton wasted no time, getting right into the first lesson and assigning 12 questions for homework. You were given time in class to work on them, and you’re leant down on your desk, staring hard at a math problem you didn’t even listen to the lesson for.

Oh, sitting next him was gonna be bad for your already mediocre grades.

“Did you get a word of that?” Patrick asks you, leaning towards your desk. You caught sent of his Irish Spring soap, and somehow his freshly showered scent melted you.

“No. My brain is all gooey today.” You state in an even voice, leaning towards neither positive or negative in your tone.

“Summer has a tendency, that’s for sure.” Patrick exclaims, going back in his text to read over the lesson.

Sure. Summer.

You follow his lead, might as well figure out what the hell you missed while you can still ask questions.

As you finally start to grasp the concept the bell rings, and Patrick looks to you expectantly, holding a strap of his bag with an easy smile on his face.

“Alright, what next?” You ask him, and he brings out his chart again.

“I have band, next.” He explains, showing you the timeslot.

You definitely did not have band, not knowing how to play a single instrument. “Well, I’m not in that. Here, I’ll show you.” You start down the hall, and the band room was actually pretty far in the school compared to your gym and algebra.

As you make the second turn down another hallway he asks, “What, no commentary, this time?” And you didn’t know him enough to be sure, but there was something in his voice. You weren’t hopeful enough to think he was flirting.

“Oh, well not much to say in these halls. The mural is redone by different senior every four years, there’s the drama room we do one play per semester, down those halls is our art room, here is the auditorium. Oh. If you pass by the bathroom at the end of this hall,” you point at it, “don’t use it. It reeks because the stoners took control of it last year.”

“Didn’t the teachers do anything?”

“You think they didn’t try? Because these kids did everything to dodge them. Kinda like you in gym today, you overachiever.” Was that…flirting?

“Hey, dodgeball is fun when you play it right.” He claims, and he was apparently right.

You stop in front of some open and painted double doors. “Ok, this is your stop.” He looks up at the doors, and you wondered if they were intimidating to you, how bad would they be to him? “What instrument do you play?” You ask, trying to cut his nervousness.

“Uh, bass.” He answers, pretending to do the double pluck that bass players are so known for.

“Electric, or—”

“Electric.” He interrupts you, dismissing the thought of him playing the double bass.

“Go get ‘em, tiger.” You tell him, patting his shoulder lightly. Your brain malfunctions in the middle of the pat, wondering just what the hell did you think you were doing.

You freeze on the spot, muttering a goodbye as you walk away as you felt overwhelmed. At least English would be simple.

-

English was not simple. The first book of the semester, Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde turned out to have so much illusion to imagery to describe a single sentence you were bored to tears by the second page. You understood none of what was happening, feeling less dumb when multiple classmates also had questions.

The bell rung, signifying lunch time. You sat with your food alone waiting for Kaitlyn when the seat next to you is filled by Patrick.

This boy is literally enabling your fixation on him. One part of you wanted to tell him to run from you, because you were unhealthily obsessed with him, and you only met him hours ago.

The other side wanted to beg him to continue, because it gave you the delusion that this might not have been one-sided.

“How was band?” You ask him, the Irish Spring soap hitting your nose sweetly again.

“It was lame.” He responds, opening up his bag of chips on the tray. “We didn’t really get to play much, and it was just some introductory talks. I do music theory on the weekends, so it was basic knowledge. Dunno, felt like Junior High band than High School. What class did you go to?”

That was certainly a critique. And while you were no means an arts school, the drama program you had was nothing to laugh at. Maybe the band class wasn’t up to par with the drama program.

However, you’re now fixed on the idea that he also wanted to know how your class went, too.

“English. I usually love this class but the book she introduced us to was stupidly hard.” You complained and suddenly Kaitlyn pops down next to you.

“I warned you that she’s a villain.” She claims, laughing as you finally discover the true nature of the infamously tough English teacher that was Mrs. Van Heerde. “She’s that intense all year long, by the way. You get used to it within the first week.”

“Do we have any other classes together, or will we be just tortured together during PE all semester?” You ask, yanking out your ever-folded schedule.

The two of you compare, and you have your last class of the day together, Anthropology.

“Hey me too.” Patrick comments, already putting his schedule back in his pocket.

Kaitlyn side eyes you, nodding towards Patrick pointedly with her head. You wish you could express every thought you’ve been thinking, but the fact that it’s stopped by his mere presence is a gift you could never have predicted. She leans forward onto her elbows towards him, a devilish glint in her eye. “So what’s Ohio like?”

“Boring.” Patrick deadpans to her, mouth still chewing as he said it. “Nothing happens there.”

“Why’d you move here? No offense, but nothing happens here either.” You laugh, leaning back in your chair.

Your small town was made of only one high school, and the town had major meetings in which the smallest of squanders were battled out by the leaders. What squanders were so important to gather (most of) the town’s population you might ask?

New library signs. Where to place wheelchair accessible ramps on old buildings.

Stars Hallow was very reminiscent of your town, without all the romanticization of it.

“Dad’s job moved him.” Patrick answers, lips pursed as if he was considering his opinion on being moved going into his second last year of high school.

“To here? Of all places?” Kaitlyn asks, her eyebrows raised up to her honey blonde bangs.

Patrick laughs silently, nodding solemnly in response.

“So why did your mom bring you to a psychic when you were so young?” Patrick asks, taking a sip and your mind is captivated by his Adam’s apple bobbing as he drank. You never realized it was so prominent.

“You won’t get an answer out of her.” Kaitlyn answers when she realizes you were preoccupied. “I’ve tried for years, and nothing.”

“Why not?” Patrick asks, the question directed towards you.

His brown eyes look into yours, and without either of your food to distract you anymore they were so captivating. “I like to have a little mystery in a town where everyone knows everything.”

“Do you even know why she took you?” Patrick challenged you, his eyebrows tilted.

“Yep. I could tell you vividly why she took me.” You pause, leaning over to your bestfriend to tease her. “But I won’t. I let this one fact fester for years so the real thing will not live up to the hype. I guarantee it.”

There’s something behind his eyes that you couldn’t place, an unsaid sentence in his brain. You wanted to be brave and ask what was on his mind, but, then again you were only his tour guide. Tomorrow he’ll be hanging with some people he actually liked.

The air as tense as you thought it was, Kaitlyn switching her glance between the two of you as an unspoken sentence seems to be exchanged. Not that either of you were aware of the sentence, but Kaitlyn was, even if she didn’t know what it meant.

Patrick wondered if you were feeling any bit of as intense as you were towards him as he did about you. Why was he so drawn to you? Why did not knowing about this story of the psychic drive him so crazy?

You wondered why you had the sudden urge to tell Patrick a story that you had stored away in a safe. How was he not freaked out by the sheer intensity of how much you’ve been staring at him all day?

Kaitlyn just wanted to know when the two of you would get a grip and just admit you were into one another. Patrick was cute, and by the reactions of the girls in the classes without you, also desired. However the general consensus is that the two of you were into one another, and anyone with eyes could see it.

Anyone but the two of you, at least.

“Alright I gotta jet. I’ll see you both in Anthropology, I guess.” Kaitlyn walks off, shaking her head in exasperation. One day when the fog settled you’d be able to have a conversation again.

Hopefully.

-

After you dropped Patrick off at his second last class, you were able to show him the classroom for Anthropology, which so happened to be diagonally across the hall. He thanked you graciously for showing him around, and you had to fight back insisting that the pleasure was all yours, you got to look at him all day.

Now you walked into the classroom, seeing the desk layout as both Kaitlyn and Patrick had already seated, with a seat between them you supposed was meant for you. You walked to the seat, and they were already in the middle of a conversation.

“No, I swear to god, you should’ve seen her reaction.” Kaitlyn insists, and you’ve got a bad feeling you were the her she was talking about.

Patrick lets out a light laugh, and his smile brightens up the room.

At least, to you it did.

“I’m not even going to ask.” You claim, shaking your head in contentment. Contentment? Why were you content?

“Oh, I'm telling him about the time-”

“Nope. Don’t want to know.”

“Fine.” Kaitlyn lets you be stubborn, raising her hands up in surrender.

You stare straight ahead to the whiteboard ahead of you, refusing to look Patrick in the eye and give in to Kaitlyn’s little game. You knew, as well as she did, that the moment you looked at him and the spark in his eyes you would want to know what story Kaitlyn was telling him.

The possibilities were endless.

Anthropology was as interesting as you hoped it was, picking it based on liking social studies more around the study of how people lived. At the end of the class the teacher Mr. Sullivan assigned a project that was due towards two weeks.

It was a long project that required days of working together, a study on different tribes in East Africa. It involved basic research, a visual and oral presentation with an artifact that represents the tribe as a whole.

It was a long project, something that earned a groan as he handed the assignment out.

Mr. Sullivan didn’t care, telling you to partner up with whoever.

Kaitlyn, ever a sweetheart, knew what you were going to say before you even say it. “Hey, I’m gonna partner with Lacey, her whole thing is research projects. You should go with Patrick.” Very subtle, Kaitlyn. Very subtle.

You take out your flip phone, texting her under the table as you turn to your right towards Patrick.

UR THE BEST

The sound of her phone flipping shut is the signal that she has received it, and she simply just says, “I know.”

You gulp, facing towards Patrick. “So, partners?” You ask delicately, ready for any rejection.

He keeps surprising you. “Cool.”

As if on que the bell rings, and you find yourself walking with Patrick to your car. He was, after all, parked right next to it. In fact, you found yourselves in between his van and your car and the air is so much thicker than when you saw him that morning.

After the miracle of being in the same gym class as him you had expected your only interactions with him to be limited and one-sided. Patrick outright asking you if you would show him around stunted your perception, and you found your luck growing throughout the day.

You look up at him, and nothing in his face is giving him away, the sweater open to reveal he wore an MCR shirt but the baseball cap on his dashboard surprising you.

As vehicles started to leave the lot, still much unsaid, you were about to turn to your own vehicle to reminisce your world-wind first day when an electric shock surges through you as he grabs your hand to stop you. You freeze, staring at it.

You turn back to face him, questioning the grab.

“Can I say something crazy?” He asks you, his voice low and vulnerable.

Crazy seemed good. You nod, because even if crazy didn’t seem good, you’d be willing to listen to him talk about snails if it meant you didn’t have to leave him yet.

“I have spent all day wanting to kiss you. From the moment I saw you, it’s like this…” he looks down, frustrated, looking for the right word.

“A need.” You offer for him.

He smiles, nodding.

“It’s not crazy, because I’ve been feeling the same way.” You respond, the sentence escaping your throat before you could stop it.

Patrick takes this as a go-ahead, walking two strides before his hands frame your face and his lips are on yours. It sounded crazy, but it was like it was coming home. His lips felt familiar, and a tear was already down your cheek before you had processed this emotion. Like something you were missing has been found.

Like you found him and you didn’t even know you were looking.

Patrick connects his forehead to yours, your heavy breaths loud in the silence surrounding you both. You allow yourself to sit in the silence, until Patrick insists you join him in his van so you could finally talk it out.

Because, it was odd, but it felt like this should’ve been happening. Like you going home instead of kissing him would’ve been the wrong choice.

You climb into his passenger seat, feeling strangely safe as you glance around for hidden details about him.

“So.” Patrick starts, leaning on his steering wheel as he talked to you.

“So.”

“You’ve been feeling it?”

“Since the moment I saw you. I thought I was going insane with how much I stared at you in gym this morning. I thought you were going to tell me to stop stalking you.” You confessed, the openness of it refreshing.

“I was actually showing off.” He replied, a hint of sheepishness in his voice. “My mind kept telling me that you didn’t care and to stop but there was something that told me not to let you go too far, which is why I requested you to show me around.”

“Do you think all people feel drawn to one another like this?” You asked him, keenly aware of the feeling of a magnet that’s been pulling you to him.

Patrick shakes his head, “I’ve never felt anything this strong. This is something else.”

“This is insane. I know nothing about you, but I had this need to be near you all day. I know you’re athletic. I know you play the bass. I know you listen to My Chemical Romance. That’s it. But. Kissing you, is like—"

“Relief.” He interrupts you, understanding everything of what you were talking about. “You’re saying we don’t know one another very well, so tell me the one thing you refuse to tell everyone else. Tell me about the psychic.”

You blink, and the inkling that this had something to do with her was all too much all day. “Did that story intrigue you because I refused to tell it, or because of the psychic?”

“The psychic.”

You knew it. “I used to dream about someone. He was from a long time ago, before we were born, and when I woke up, I talked about him and how much I missed him. My mom took me to the psychic because apparently my details about him were consistent enough to make her raise some questions.”

“What happened?”

“I actually never found out, but the psychic believed me. And there was something, in my little brain that thought she was the real thing. I remember thinking that because that thought is my first memory.”

“I never told anyone else before, because my mom just dismissed it as childish stories, but I used to dream about a girl. I didn’t know much about her, other than she was a light in the darkness. Her laugh, her hugs, when she came into the dream everything was amazing. Then these…” his face grimaces, and you could tell it also became nightmares for him, too. “These cracks would echo in my brain; I think they were bones. I don’t know much after that; they all blend but I will never get that sound out of my head.”

Patrick places the baseball cap on his head backwards, sliding down in his driver’s seat.

“This can’t be a coincidence.” You start, his dreams making sense yet being mind blowing at the same time. “Are you up for something crazy?”

“This already feels insanely crazy, what do you got?” Patrick answers, one hand clutching onto his steering wheel.

“When I went I told her about my dreams, she hired a Private Investigator to look for answers on the person I dreamt about. She said as a four-year-old I’ve given her enough consistent information that if the person I dreamed about was real, then she would get answers.” You pause, letting Patrick soak it in.

Patrick laughs, closed mouthed as if the insanity of the circumstances finally caught up to him. “Fuck it, let’s go.”

-

I love reading comments in tags and replies, and as always, reblogging is the best way to support fic writers on here <3 Thanks for reading!

taglist: @pinkcowracing @yourthebrokengirl @skrzydlak @thirddeadlysin @sammararaven @bebe07011 @prettylovley @josephquinncore

[starrystevie]

tagged by @yournowheregirl and @judasofsuburbia to show 6 characters I relate to!

here i give you the "if they can relate to mirrorball, the archer, and you're on your own kid by ms. taylor swift then they are a reflection of me" list

steve harrington (stranger things): listen if there was one character that i think truly is a perfect reflection of me, it would be steve. i don't want to bore you all with the thesis i could write about him so here are the cliffs notes: protective, people pleaser, romantic at heart, sarcastic, gifted child burnout, specifically this line from mirrorball "shimmering beautiful, and when i break it's in a million pieces"

steve rogers (marvel): ahh yes, and then the other steve that is the other side of the mirror. loyal to a fault where i would start a civil war for those i love, a leader, compassionate, stubborn, wants to dance the night away in a jazz club with my baby on my arm as we sway to the crooners, living in an idealized version of the past, not very good at taking compliments, specifically this line from the archer "i wake in the night, i pace like a ghost, the room is on fire, invisible smoke, and all of my heroes die all alone, help me hold on to you"

lorelai gilmore (gilmore girls): i knew that watching gilmore girls from such a young age would have a lasting effect on me. we both hold grudges from things in the past. both like to go back to those things thinking things will be different only to realize we still want to run away. witty, uses too many media quotes for our own good, lives off junk food and spite, crave the small town life and the smell of snow, specifically this line from you're on your own kid "from sprinkler splashes to fireplace ashes, i gave my blood, sweat, and tears for this. i hosted parties and starved my body like i'd be saved by a perfect kiss" (this whole song is lorelai coded btw choosing just one line was hard)

jo march (little women): oh man, where to start. writing as an escape from a world that feels to small, wanting to explore and see the world and the beauty that hides in it, craving love but not knowing how to give it away freely, on the other hand craving attention and soaking it in, fierce, loyal, would do anything for those she cares about no matter the consequences, specifically this line from you're on your own kid "i didn't choose this town, i dream of getting out, there's just one who could make me stay"

dean winchester (supernatural): hi hello daddy issues! but also never being able to live up to you father's expectations and dealing with the fact that your sibling is the favorite no matter how hard you try, covers everything up with a smile and joke or anger and a clenched fist, hopelessly obsessed with women but confused over sexuality because of a pretty men, loves road trips with the windows down playing classic rock, would fight god bare handed if it meant that the people i love got to live (i'll refrain from going into religious trauma but if y'all want the full essay on how much i love dean winchester, please let me know), specifically this line from the archer "combat, i'm ready for combat, i say i don't want that, but what if i do? cause cruelty wins in the movies, i've got a hundred thrown out speeches i almost said to you" (this song is so dean coded i didn't know how to just choose one line)

oikawa tooru (haikyuu): tries so hard to be perfect only to have someone more naturally gifted best you, serving cunt with a smirk, whiny baby who wants their way, kind of weird but hides it as best as they can, showing their full deck of cards to people who deserve it, specifically this line from mirrorball "i'm still on that trapeze, i'm still trying everything to keep you looking at me"

i'm not sure who all has done this so feel free to use this as me tagging you if you'd like to along with these no pressure tags!: @scoops-stevie @thefreakandthehair @buckleydiaz @vecnuthy @stevethehairington @riality-check

[neonponders]

I posted 6,040 times in 2022

That's 1,858 more posts than 2021!

562 posts created (9%)

5,478 posts reblogged (91%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@neonponders

@memes-saved-me

@chrisbitchtree

@lovebillyhargrove

@lazybakerart

I tagged 6,010 of my posts in 2022

#harringrove - 3,628 posts

#fanart - 2,054 posts

#neonponders - 1,038 posts

#billy hargrove - 892 posts

#ficlet - 800 posts

#s4 - 681 posts

#steve harrington - 577 posts

#gif set - 539 posts

#text post - 400 posts

#oh 🥺 - 370 posts

Longest Tag: 105 characters

#but i know angst is coming so i'm saving the rest for a new chapter so i can segue through the angst haha

My Top Posts in 2022:

#5

No one can un-convince me that Billy did not learn the world ‘amigo’ merely by being in California.

That came straight out of his favorite chef and dealer, Argyle’s mouth.

325 notes - Posted August 2, 2022

#4

Enough “no one can understand why they’re a couple” tropes.

I want moments where Robin points at Billy while telling Steve, “Marry him.”

Bonus points if it’s totally stupid like Steve mistook San Francisco as San Flamingo when he was a kid and calls it that to this day. Max just pats Billy’s arm and informs, “That one’s yours.”

327 notes - Posted November 22, 2022

#3

You know those Reddit stories of men experiencing actual love/affection from their significant others for the first time in their lives? Like the guy whose girlfriend washed his hair for him and he cried?

That’s Billy.

(and Steve, after he realizes how much work HE put into relationships without getting anything back. Then his efforts are finally returned and he has to lie down.)

328 notes - Posted October 7, 2022

#2

I want Billy to be so goddamn clingy once he knows Steve means it.

417 notes - Posted October 10, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

Thinking about a scenario where Billy and Steve become dads, but once their daughter is walking, talking, and really thinking for herself (4 or 5 years old), Billy becomes the kind of dad who’s very quiet. Not quite negligent, but he stands aside and lets Steve do everything.

It gets to a point where their daughter asks Steve if her daddy doesn’t love her. (Kids are blunt with their words but this really slices Steve open.)

Steve tells Billy, and Billy doesn’t really get time to consider anything. He doesn’t have the time to look for therapists (he’s already in therapy, but that’s for complex ptsd, not parenting) or to ask his little girl if she’d go to a park or anything with him. They already had planned to go to some kid’s birthday party at a restaurant on a boat dock.

At the party, they really only know the birthday kid’s family. But they get to know some snotty little asshole real fast because he just won’t leave their little girl alone. She’s on the verge of spilling tears when Billy interrupts, “Kid, can you swim?”

“Duh, I can swim,” he responded, all proud.

Billy picked him up and chucked him into the lake. “Well look at that. He can swim - ”

The kid’s dad comes over swinging. Gets lucky and lands one punch before Billy decimates the man. He doesn’t waste time. Kick to the balls, hit to the gut, the face, and he falls right into the lake next to his kid.

Billy scoops up his daughter and waves off the waiters and busboys who look like they feel obligated to do something, but aren’t getting paid enough in their summer jobs to fight a raging father.

Steve is beside his family in an instant, bag already packed and money on their table while their baby curls herself very small in her daddy’s big arms. “When we get home, I’m teaching you how to throw a punch. You can practice on Big Teddy. He won’t ruin your tea parties anymore.”

At home, she puts a sparkly star sticker on her daddy’s bruised cheek. He asks for a sticker every day until it heals. She kisses it just in case, and long after it’s healed and it’s a fifty/fifty chance that the kiss will be a raspberry instead.

Steve might be the dad who helps his daughter feel big, but Billy’s the one who helps her not fear being small.

749 notes - Posted September 2, 2022

Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →

[mcderpy]

Here is the elaboration of this post✨✨✨

First of all, we all have to acknowledge that mike is gay for this it’s gonna help us in the future.

Let’s start with the signs of comphet and what is comphet

Comphet(compulsory heterosexuality) is the idea of heterosexuality is being the expected norm, so many lesbians realize they’re lesbian in later in their life because of comphet, and I think nancy wheeler is one of comphets victims

What are the signs of comphet?

The signs of comphet can include:

•you get “crushes” on men but when they like you back, you feel grossed out or just don’t feel the same anymore

•picking a random men to have a crush on, having multiple “crushes” at one time, without even knowing them

•you can’t imagine having a future with a man

•generally, men doing anything gives you ick

•the thought that all the relationships with men has to be sexual

•having “crushes” on unachievable males(older men, fictional characters, celebrities, gay people etc.)

•feeling like you have to have a crush because of the norm

•wanting men to desire you even though how uncomfortable it makes you

And I do think some of these fits nancy, we can see it especially in her relationship with steve but there is signs of it in her relationship with Jonathan too.

Season 1

At s1 nancy starts dating steve, at first things are going good, she looks happy because how could she not? The STEVE HARRINGTON is dating her, she’s gonna be super cool now! She invites steve to her house for studying, and when steve starts making out, and tries to untie nancy’s button up,nancy gets frustrated. She is grossed out by basically making out with the supposed boy that she likes. she is not acting like herself in their relationship, and barb points that out too. She is not like steve and his friends, she feels bad for jonathan when will is lost while steve and his gang makes fun of him, she just basically forces herself to be more cooler. Does that ring anything to you? Ding ding dong, aha! Just like mike wheeler and eleven’s relationship:D he forces himself to like someone because of the norm and same goes for this situation of nancy. In mike’s situation, we can say this is because of internalized homophobia and in nancy’s situation we can clearly say that it’s a sign of comphet. I think that’s all I got to say for s1, if anything more comes to my mind I will add it later on.

Season 2

Nancy and steve are still together, but we start to see that their relationship is falling apart. This is mainly because steve not caring about nancy’s trauma and nancy being weirded out by him. When she gets drunk, she calls their love bullshit, later on when steve wants her to say that she loves him, she can’t. And we can see this being paralleled to mike and el’s argue later on, mike can’t say that he loves el because he doesn’t like her in that way, he is gay, and nancy doesn’t love steve in that way because she is gay. Later on the season, we see that nancy and Jonathan starts dating. There’s nothing much to their romantic relationship in s2 so hoping on to s3.

Season 3

Nancy is dating jonathan now, and they’re working together on the hawkins post. She’s weirded out by the man at there but it’s because they’re bullshit not because she is a lesbian! Later on, they have an argument with Jonathan, and misogyny all over again! Wait this has nothing to do with the topic but whatever. Also the line “well I guess we just don’t understand eachother anymore””You’re what everyone thinks you are” “most people they just stop trying, but you’re not like that. You’re a fighter you always have been. I honestly don’t know where you get it from.” is so lesbian, Mind you karen is probably a closeted lesbian with comphet. We can see in this episode that nancy’s dream is not living under a mens roof, she wants to show herself. Such a lesbian icon.

Season 4

HERE COMES THE SEASON OF COMPHET! The whole thing with steve was COMPHET. She was with jonathan yeah we know that and yet she still liked the attention she got from steve, not a male that she’s attracted to, and she was grossed out when she heard steve’s 6 nugget thing(weirdo) and we definitely know that she can’t be happy with steve but she seems to forget that fact.

Overall, nancy shows signs of comphet in both of her relationships, and generally seems to be grossed out by man. Can’t find much to show her attraction for woman except the scenes with robin and barb but that would’ve been my interpretation and not what’s happening on the scene so we’re gonna ignore that.

I can maybe rewatch the series soon and if I do, I promise to make a more detailed version of this, also this does not mean that she is a lesbian, I don’t think that the duffers did these on purpose, it’s just my personal opinions.

I genuinely think that nancy is so fucking queercoded, it’s pretty clear that it was not what the duffers were trying to do but she shows so many signs of comphet😭😭😭

[maya-custodios-dionach]

Hello, older Steddies (steddies who's been shipping this for way longer than I have), quick question for y'all.

Joe Keery, as I recently found out, is a SINGER. With his own band and stuff.

...I was patiently waiting for Eddie getting flustered over Steve singing to himself headcanons, i-

* pouts * I guess I'll do it myself. Get ready y'all, this has been marinating in my Steddie brainrot for two weeks now.

Steve Harrington is a songwriter and plays piano and I will DIE. ON. THIS. HILL.

The piano thing is something he picked bc he learned that his mother used to take piano lessons as a child, and he wanted to do something to impress her. Turns out, he really like the sounds the piano makes and keeps learning how to play better.

Steve loves the piano bc its one of the few moments in his childhood that his mom pays 100% of her attention to him in order to teach him everything she knew, aka the basics and some classic sheet music she memorized.

Wait no, I'm gonna make myself cry, baby stevie aggressively practicing the classical piano pieces bc maybe if he plays it perfectly, he'll perform it for his mom whenever she'll home, why do I do this to myself.

Let's think of some fluffy stuff about the songwriting first before I sob myself dry.

Lil Stevie, while he was still in his experimental piano phase, before he strictly adheres to sheet music, used to play nonsense lil ditties to himself. Usually stuff he did during his day, like "hmmmm I put on my clothes and I made my bed, hmmmm, put on my socks then put on my shoes~ hmmmm" (I'm really sorry for the shitty creativity, my brain is blanking on what tiny Steve does in his free time except for TV, sports and piano)

Eventually, he starts actually writing lil snippets. Nothing great bc yk he's a kid starting out, but pieces if put together in a coherent and melodic way could have a lot of potential. Tiny lil puzzle pieces with the potential to be something more, something incredible.

Steve's parents never did find out about his songwriting. It was his and his alone, a safe haven where the thoughts of others don't matter. When his parents are away, when the boredom becomes to much, Steve sneaks into the piano room to turn his lyrics into music, for his ears only.

I like to pair this headcanon with another precious headcanon of mine, which is if Steve wasn't trapped in his jock era, that man is a KID WHO LOVES MUSICALS. (Am I projecting my love of musicals onto my blorbo? Mayhaps, but who's gonna stop me?). Every song in a musical elicits so much story and emotion that Steve never lets himself feel in his daily life, its very comforting to listen to songs of characters who know what they want and sing about how much they wants it and how they're gonna achieve their goals. A characters freedom to unapologetically express themselves on stage, not caring if anybody hears (no projecting or intense longing from Steve here, nosiree). All this to say that Steve's songwriting and singing style reflects a lot of musical I Want songs.

Fast forward to high school, his King Steve era, his music is his best kept secret. Vulnerability is NOT an option, so whenever he throws parties at his house, he always ALWAYS makes sure that the piano room is locked, where is notebook of lyrics also reside. There was a period of time where he didn't play piano at ALL because of how much his sports life consumes most of his free time. Sometimes, he feels the itch to write something down, but can't because he's surrounded by a lot of people who would target any sign of softness he shows. Furthermore, Steve becomes less and less confident about his songwriting the more his reputation of a dumb jock solidifies. (WHY DO I HURT MYSELF LIKE THIS-)

Being with Nancy, however, lit a FIRE in him. I'm talking scribbled out lyrics of love songs at night to process his feelings, giddy piano covers of popular love songs, singing the Grease soundtrack in the shower, the WORKS. This boy is GONE, and the only way to process all his emotions in order to appear cool and chill in public is to let it out through music. Its not a foolproof way of processing emotions, bc he's not suddenly immune to doing stupid shit just because he has an outlet (see The Entire Steve-Nancy-Jonathan love triangle business). His honeymoon phase with Nancy definitely produced some of his more structured and polished work bc she inspires him in a positive way. (Nancy'ssosmatthatifSteveisgonnamakesongsabouthertheyhavetobesmarttoobecausethat'swhatshedeservesand-)

After his first encounter with the Upside Down and the breakup after, however??? STEVE'S REPUTATION ERA. His most emotionally driven songs were written at the dead of night when he couldn't sleep because of the nightmares. Frenzied piano notes ring into the night, Steve and the stars its only audience. Boys don't go to therapy, they forcefully beat up their emotions into songs that they would never share with anyone else, and impulsively adopt any child within a 10 mile radius.

(imma skim over season 2, im sorry, truthfully i didnt watch a single second of the show, all i know about stranger things are from steddie fanfics binged over the course of 2 weeks and tumblr gifs, thats it)

The first person to ever find out about Steve's musical hobby is Robin (i know, very predictable, but hear me out). Back when those two are drugged to hell and back, Steve sings out nonsense lyrics that he hasn't done since he was a kid, singing about the what he can see in the bathroom they were resting in. Steve feels VERY STRONGLY about Robin defending Tammy Thompson's singing bc he could literally sing better WHILE DRUGGED. Robin hates that she can't dispute that bc she's heard both. After the starcourt fiasco, whenever robin cant sleep, she sneaks into steve's home and listens to steve playing the piano in order to drown out the nightmares. Steve doesn't sing any of the songs he's written, no matter how much she pesters him about it.

OKAY SEASON 4, LETS DO THIS!!

After Max's first encounter with Vecna at the cemetery, Steve asks for the favorite songs of EVERYONE in the Party, and spends all-nighters trying to memorize every single one.

The first anybody aside from Robin hears Steve sing was when they were panicking about Nancy getting vecna'd. After the iconic THIS!! IS!! MUSIC!! scene, they all stop bc they all hear singing they haven't heard before. They all look up, and are flabbergasted to see Steve singing “Love Is A Battlefield” by Pat Benatar in the most beautiful tenor voice you've ever heard, like an angel beating down the devil's curse. No one is more bamboozled than Eddie, who just keeps staring at Steve while having the most ill-timed gay panic in his entire LIFE. If El were to peek into Eddie's head at all at that moment, all she would hear is the TV static with background noises of gay thoughts at mach 4 speed.

(In this reality, Steve goes along with Dustin and Eddie bc dustin feels betrayed about steve "keeping this a secret from them" and won't stop pestering him. Steve's bi awakening is seeing Eddie shredding Master of the Puppets ofc)

Post-Vecna (Eddie LIVES dammit, fireman carried by steve out of the upside down), Eddie goes to Steve and Robin's place of work and joins her in begging pestering Steve to sing them one of his songs (the first time eddie heard that steve writes his own songs, he had a gay panic so strong, that Corroded Coffin is tired of his bullshit, pull yourself together man, this is getting embarrassing. poor eddie had to self-quarantine in his room screaming in his pillow for two days). Eddie, the upside down trauma newbie, also joins robin to sneaking into steve's house in order to listen to him play the piano. robin had to close eddie's mouth while he was gawking at steve the first time he sees him play piano (bless oblivious sleep-deprived steve, his music is the only thing keeping him sane).

also, platonically, i just love the idea of Steve singing lullabies at the "we just saved the world, lets have a sleepover so that we can take comfort in the fact that everyone is alive" sleepover, and all the kids going to sleep clutching at each other, dreamless and feeling safe at last.

Look, im not creative enough to think of a getting together scene, so we're skipping over to established steddie now, im so sorry.

First time they sang a duet together????? RATED R-18, THE MOST TENDER OF LOVE-MAKING COMMENCES AFTER THEY DUET, I DON'T MAKE THE RULES, I'M GETTING SUFFOCATED BY THE ROMANTIC AND SEXUAL TENSION JUST THINKING ABOUT IT.

Dear lord, steve and eddie both writing songs inspired by the other, DONT TOUCH ME, IM FRAGILE.

STEVE FEELING INSECURE ABOUT HIS SONGWRITING IN COMPARISON TO EDDIE, WHILE EDDIE IS JUST TRYING HIS BEST NOT TO CRY WHILE HEARING ANY OF STEVE'S SONGS FOR HIM, AAAAAAHHHHHH

Epic battles have been fought on what music to play in the car, im talking THEATER LEVELS OF DRAMA. If anybody in the party wants to see the most aggressive of bickering (coughDustincough), all the party has to do is ask who's turn it is to pick the music between them, WEEK LONG PETTY FIGHTS COMMENCE.

NO, BUT STEVE GOING TO ONE OF EDDIE'S CONCERTS WITH HOMEMADE MERCH- STEVE SOMETIMES JAMMING WITH CORRODED COFFIN, IM GOING FERAL-

THE SONG THE NIGHT THEY EXCHANGED VOWS (lemme dream, they could have done this underground or some shit, promise rings and all) IS SOMETHING THEY COLLABORATED ON, AND WILL ONLY EVER BE SUNG AND HEARD BY THE TWO OF THEM.

JUST!!!!! STEVE HARRINGTON SINGING!!!

[silkscream]

can i get a sangria for steve where he makes reader watch a movie with him that she originally doesn't really want to but it totally back fires because she can't stop gushing about the main character and how hot he is so steve gets jealous.

the plan was backfiring.

steve harrington has his hands in your hair, mouth on your neck, yet your eyes aren’t on him. by god, this was the last time steve was taking robin’s advice for girls.

“scary movies always work. they’ll jump right into your arms, steve-o,” robin had said that afternoon at family video. “and then, film be damned, she won’t even remember the plot. she’ll only have the memory of your huge, throbbing—”

you giggle at the feeling of his tongue wetting your skin.

he doesn’t understand. after all you’re the one who kisses him first, you’re the one who’s on his lap, yet your eyes are glued to the television.

“we don’t have to do anything you’re not comfortable with,” he mumbles, pecking you on the cheek once he realizes you’ve gone limp in his arms.

“oh, i’m very comfortable,” you laugh, ruffling his hair. “sorry, jeff goldblum is distracting me.”

steve follows your gaze with a pout. jeff goldblum is walking around shirtless on the screen in front of you. of course.

christ, maybe he should’ve gone with the exorcist. steve had assumed the fly would be scary enough to get you into his arms or at least bore you to tears, but you, unexpectedly, are rather intrigued by the plot and the presence of jeff goldblum’s abs. it has steve feeling more agitated that he thinks he should be. he did invite you over for a movie, technically.

“he’s still kinda hot even when he’s suffering from mutations,” you muse.

“right,” steve murmurs.

“do you not like the movie?”

he turns to you with wide eyes. “no, no, i do! i just, uh, can’t focus on it that much. dustin thinks i’ve got like, ahd or whatever.”

“adhd,” you correct.

“yeah, that.”

“but you can pay attention to me, can’t you?” you take a fistful of his hair. it makes his breath hitch and cock hard in an almost embarrassing speed.

“y-yeah, i definitely can. you’re much prettier than a mutant fly-man.”

steve toys with them of your skirt, fingers rubbing across your bare thigh. you coax his hand higher up with a devilish grin until he touches the wet spot of your panties.

“this for me?” he whispers.

“might be for jeff.”

“shut the fuck up,” he scoffs, swallowing your laughter with a kiss.

“oh, i knew it! you’re jealous!”

“am not.”

“am too! that’s why you were pouting when i actually started watching the movie.”

“how bout you keep watching the movie while i do whatever i want down here, yeah?” steve says huskily, pushing your body towards him on the carpet that makes you lose your balance.

with your elbows propping you up, you blink down at your beautiful boy, whose hair is already disheveled. his cheeks glow pink under the basement light.

“’m all yours for the night, harrington.”

[kalliyen]

Stranger Things Cast:

Having a Crush on You

Pairing: Multiple Characters x GN!Reader

Featuring: Eddie, Steve, Jonathan, Nancy, Robin

Genre: Fluff

Reader Pronouns: They/Them

Warning: A few swears

Disclaimer: ⚠️ ONLY A WORK OF FICTION

Eddie Munson

Is it just me or when Eddie has a crush he will try his best to make them notice him

I mean come on look when he was with Chrissy

Anyways

How you meet

You were Dustin’s older sibling and you dropped him off at DND meeting

You walked into the dnd room and Eddie is just •o• face at you

You didn’t really pay him any kind cause you were to busy with your brother

So after you say goodbye to him Dustin noticed and he’s all like

“Bro were you just checking out my older sibling”

Eddie gets all shy awww

But when you do finally meet him you think he’s really cool despite being a 20 year old man in high school…

He’s still cute tho

When you first hang out with him you learn he’s actually really nice and chill

Steve Harrington

He sees you come in when he was at work looking for a movie to watch with your family

Hasn’t seen you since high school and is surprised to see you back in Hawkins

You see him at the counter and make small talk

“Oh hi Steve! It’s been a while, how’ve you been?”

His brain short circuits for a minute there ngl

He finally answers but it’s like very abrupt and he says it really fast cause he’s nervous

“I’m good! Just here you know, tryna survive”

Cue Robin laughing her ass off at the back

You invite him to hang out sometime and he just

“Y-yeah I-I’d love that”

Robin tells his children and they’re like “oh em gee we’re gonna get another parent??”

Jonathan Byers

YOU’RE A WHEELER!!!

Mike is so tired of his older siblings pulling so much bitches

Okay this is near the end of s4, so like when he gets to go back to Hawkins right

Atp Jonathan thinks he’s gotten over his crush on you but when he sees you again

BOOM BOOM BOOM

Y’all hear that? That’s just his heart about to burst sorry

Falls in love all over again

You running to him

Feels like everything is going in slow motion

Like those Animes that show the couples running into each other slow motion from every angle

Yeah that’s what he feels like rn

Nancy Wheeler

At first Nancy really didn’t like you

Cause you were like the delinquent type and we all know she’s the girlboss smart responsible type yeah

But like over the seasons, she starts seeing your more caring side

What made her come to the realization that “oh shit I like this person”

Was when you were comforting Mike

Nancy rn: ❤️💖💘💓💗💞💕❣️😘😍

After that she tries her best to be nicer to you

You’re so confused cause like “why is she suddenly being nice to me”

But like y’all pop off and become besties in no time

After a lil heart to heart talk y’all finally get together <3

Everyone else is like “FINALLY JESUS THAT TOOK SO LONG”

Robin Buckley

Robin is such a cutie oh my god

Okay okay so you guys meet at band right mhm

You initiate the conversation most of the time cause she’s so nervous to talk to you AJAJAJAJ

Robin always rambles about you to Steve and he’s listening very intently

Mama Steve back at it again

He tries to give advise but Robin is like “nah nah that’s weird”

But she’s does listen to the advice Steve gives tho

She actually does them sometimes

But over all she’s just really happy she even has the chance to be friends with you

She thinks she’s being really suave when she’s staring at you but baby she’s not

You don’t mind the stares tho, you really like that you might just have a chance with her

[nhasablogg]

Learning Curve

Fandom: Stranger Things (season 4 but no volume 2 spoilers)

Characters: Wayne, Eddie/Steve (kind of)

Summary: Wayne has to learn how to communicate with Eddie, but it doesn’t always involve words.

A/N: Idk I just got this idea to write about Eddie’s uncle.

Words: 1.2k

Read it on AO3

Wayne had always been more of a listener than a talker, but Eddie had forced him to adapt after he came to live with him at age 14; troubled and angry and in serious need of talking. Even though Wayne’s listening and patient ear was very handy when it came to raising a teenager whose father had fucked him up beyond comprehension, Wayne found he needed to be able to talk back too. It had been a learning curve, steep and dizzying, but Wayne had never had any trouble with vertigo.

As Eddie got older, just about reaching his late teens, Wayne realized he’d gone more quiet. It had been alarming at first. Eddie was known for having periods of shutting people out, but he was never quiet. Wayne could always gauge his mood based on the sounds he made. The way he played his music, loud and deafening throughout the whole trailer, or softly in the background as he lay in bed. They never talked about it, but Wayne knew they’d moved beyond the need for words as their only means of communication.

When Eddie first grew quiet, Wayne found he needed to learn to speak again.

That was the first time he saw Eddie cry.

He was watching him now, a year or so later, and he realized they didn’t just need sounds to communicate as Eddie’s smile spoke volumes as it was. Wayne wondered if he should ask, gently prod, maybe tease, because he knew it was about a boy just as well as he’d known it had been about Eddie’s general feelings about boys a year or so ago.

But Wayne was only a talker when Eddie needed him to be, and Eddie didn’t need him to talk now. Turns out Eddie could talk a lot on his own if the mood was right.

Eddie in love turned into the biggest talker of them all.

“Do you think my hair looks okay today?”

Wayne glanced at him over the newspaper, a cloud of hairspray behind him as Eddie emerged from the bathroom. “It looks the same as always.”

“Is that your way of saying I need to switch things up?”

“It’s my way of saying there’s no need to get so caught up on it. It looks good,” he added when Eddie flopped down across from him, reaching for his coffee cup to steal three precious sips like he always did. “Did you get a haircut or somethin’?”

“No.” Eddie took a bite out of his toast, knees bouncing beneath the table and making his chair rock ever so slightly. Wayne had never gotten around to fixing the dodgy leg.

“So why do you ask?” It was as close as Wayne got to acknowledging it all, and he caught sight of Eddie’s slight embarrassment before he decided to grant him some mercy and put the newspaper between them again.

“People already think I’m a freak,” came Eddie’s reply, slightly delayed. “Might as well look good while they point.”

Wayne had never been violent until it had come to people’s treatment of Eddie. He’d nearly knocked his estranged brother’s teeth out that one single time he’d tried to take Eddie back, three months into him living with him. Not being able to punch high schoolers, he had to find satisfaction in cursing them out at home, sometimes with Eddie and sometimes without. It wasn’t really enough, but Wayne wasn’t an impulsive man.

He also wasn’t an oblivious man, and upon meeting Eddie’s new friends, some younger, some around his age, he could immediately tell that he’d finally found his people. That Steve Harrington ended up being one of them was the one surprise that Eddie had sprung upon him.

He knew of Steve, but only vaguely. The king of Hawkins High for most of his school years, but high school was only just that and people usually didn’t know much of what was going on in there, especially since the kids kept being replaced every four years anyway. But Wayne had seen Steve work at the video store, and that hair was hard to forget. Once he’d learnt his name it seemed he couldn’t fully escape him, and the image he’d formed of this stranger was thoroughly destroyed the moment Eddie brought him, Robin and Dustin to the trailer one day.

Steve greeted him formally, a hand shake and a smile that reached his eyes, but he seemed reserved, nearly shy around him, but maybe that was the effect of Robin and Dustin talking more than Wayne had his entire life. It was only later, after Wayne had gone outside to smoke, that he heard Steve’s more natural replies, the four of them all sassy and chaotic and absolutely perfect for each other.

“Your friends,” Wayne said later as he and Eddie sat outside to the sound of the cicadas. “They’re nice. Fun. I liked them.”

Eddie tried to seem casual about it as he nodded, but Wayne could tell from the way his hands finally relaxed in his lap that he’d been waiting for the verdict, although Wayne didn’t see why his opinion on this would matter.

“Good,” he said. “I like them too. And you’ve not met all of them.”

“I can’t wait until I do.”

Steve came over on his own sometimes, but then again, so did Dustin. Wayne wasn’t stupid enough to think his nephew was crushing on a child, and so he tried to find reasons to leave whenever Steve came around. A grocery run. Grabbing the mail. A sudden need to go on a walk. He was sure Eddie had caught on, but neither had said anything about it.

It was on one of the days he’d decided to stay that he heard it first; Eddie’s hysterical, high pitched, beautiful laughter coming from the bedroom, and while a part of him wanted to leave, a bigger part wanted to stay.

He’d not heard that laugh in years.

Eddie laughed. Of course he did. He was quick to giggle and quick to howl, but this type of laughter had grown rare with time. It was raw and pure and uncontrollable, and while Wayne realized that his nephew was most likely not laughing because something was funny he could also tell there was nothing reluctant about it.

Eddie burst out of the room eventually, acting like a teenager should. His hair was a mess, his smile so big it nearly split his face in half, and he was running away from an approaching Steve so halfheartedly Wayne nearly felt embarrassed for him.

But the way Steve also smiled told him he had nothing to worry about.

“Uncle Wayne,” he cried, rounding the couch and coming to a stop before him. “Help.”

Wayne leaned back, crossing his arms. “With?”

Eddie pointed at Steve. “He’s cruel.”

Steve from behind him. “I am not-”

“You sounded like you were having fun.” Eddie’s eyes snapped to Wayne and Wayne grinned, feeling it apt to finally tease, just a little. “Steve, son.” He turned to look at him. “Did you find that spot on his lower back?”

Wayne had time to catch Eddie’s betrayed look before he sprinted off, Steve calling out a thanks! before following, and soon the trailer was filled with Eddie’s ticklish laughter again.

Wayne leaned back again. He was more of a listener, after all.

[whiskeybeforesunset]

Homecoming Part 1 | Steve Harrington

Pairing: Steve Harrington x Male!Reader

Word Count: 1.2k

Synopsis: According to Steve Harrington “only losers don’t go to Homecoming.” This multi-part fic is going to follow the reader through different experiences of the night. There’s also going to be some flashback scenes (sorry). Any change in time is going to be indicated by “...” and whether it’s forward or backwards should be clear by the phrasing. I hope this bit isn’t too boring since it’s a lot of set up for later in the story.

Warnings: Reader is an unreliable narrator and also a dork, kind of an AU?, unaware gay men having feelings alert, references to underage drinking, otherwise it’s pretty PG.

Author’s note: You could probably view the reader as either gay or bisexual based on your preference. How does Steve’s normal sized yard fit a pool and a garden? Because I said it does. To me some parts of this feel a bit like I’m just listing off stuff with people’s outfits but I know that I like to be able to visualize what the other characters are wearing so I thought I would include it. Also I know there's a lot of hopping around time-wise, it won't be like that in future chapters. I’m really excited for where this fic is going to go and I hope you all enjoy it!

Next Chapter

___

Crickets chirp as you make your way back home. It’s pitch black out, around 3 AM if you had to guess. Your soaked shirt clings to your skin like gum on a shoe; it isn’t doing you any favors in the late September weather. Your mind wanders to tonight's events. ‘Photos, dinner, the dance, and then the after party’ was what Steve told you. Oh god Steve. You realize one of your only friendships just got significantly more complicated. God your head hurts.

“How did things turn out like this?” You mumble to yourself, running a hand lazily across your face. 

The drinking, you conclude. Probably the drinking. 

…

Junior Year Homecoming… how you dreaded this night’s arrival. You prayed something would prevent the dance from being held, a natural disaster, a pandemic, anything. And yet, here you are, standing in front of your mirror in a stuffy tux.

Everything looks wrong, the suit jacket is baggy in some places and too tight in others, your shoes are hand-me-downs from your dad that don’t fit right, and your hair isn’t cooperating whatsoever. The part is all wrong and there’s a cowlick on your left side that won’t go down no matter what you try.

Looking back to your alarm clock, you sigh as you notice it’s already 5:30; time to head over to Steve’s. Ah yes, then there was Steve. The man who insisted you attend tonight because ‘only losers don’t go to homecoming.’ You’re already on thin ice with your friend group. If you weren’t helping Steve with his homework, he’d probably have kicked you out by now.

The walk down the street to Steve’s is short, thankfully it’s not humid outside so your hair may actually stand a chance at surviving the night. 

“Ah!” Steve says loudly, one arm motioning your arrival. “There he is.”

Nicole, your date, smiles as you make your way over to her.

As much as you would love to pretend you have absolutely any autonomy in this situation, you hadn’t chosen your date. In fact, you weren’t even there for the conversation. 

…

You find your friends gathered around Steve’s locker, their conversation gets louder as you approach. Tommy and Carol stand together in a nauseating side hug while Steve leans against his locker, and they’re all taking up more space than necessary in the much too narrow halls of Hawkins High.

“Yeah and then- Oh, hey man, great news.” Steve says with a somewhat mischievous smile.

“What.” You reply hesitantly.

“So you know how we were talking about us all going to homecoming,” you nod. “And how you said you wouldn’t be able to because you don’t have a date.” Tommy and Carol laugh at this, you nod again, now with a flushed face.

“Well my friend, you’ve got one.”

“And who pray tell, is my date.” You say, realizing you have no control over this situation.

“Nicole of course.” Steve smiles.

“Nicole?” You had never considered the red head as a romantic option.

“Yes, she’s one of the nerdiest of all the people I know, second only by you-”

“Wow, thanks Steve.” You interrupt him. 

“No problem, she's pretty and she’s single. You’re perfect for eachother.” He finishes.

“Well, I can’t argue with that.” you sigh.

“Great!” Steve says, putting an arm around your shoulder as you begin to walk. “Now all you have to do is ask her.”

…

Steve was right, Nicole is beautiful. She’s wearing a shimmery navy gown with puff sleeves and a sweetheart neckline, not that you would know what that is. Her long hair is much more voluminous than usual.

“Hi.” She says, smiling as you gingerly place her corsage on her arm.

“Hi.” You repeated back with a smile slightly tighter than hers. She has not moved her hand back to her side. It’s still in front of you, but now with her palm facing up. Does she want you to hold it? 

You look back up at her, hoping for some clarification but she has a similarly confused look on her face. As a last resort you look to Steve for help, he holds two thumbs up, not very helpful you decide. Slowly you move your hand up to place it in her’s, watching her face carefully as you do so. She only looks more confused. You sense you have done something wrong.

“No, the boutonnière silly!” She giggles. 

“The what?” You reply flatly, hand still in hers.

“The boutonnière, it’s the flower that you wear.” You feel relieved that she wasn’t offended by your confusion. In fact, it seems she may have found it… charming?

“Oh- right,” you quickly replace the hand currently resting in Nicole’s with the flower you were holding in the other. She pins it to your chest before taking your hand once again and leading you back to the group.

Photographs seem to take forever. The professional photographers Steve’s parents’ hired for tonight set up in the backyard garden. Not the “grow your own cucumbers and strawberries” kind, more the “landscapers trim these bushes weekly” kind. It’s pretty though, you’ve seen it through windows whenever you're tutoring Steve.

…

The analog clock on Steve’s plaid wall ticks loudly while you wait for Steve to finish his math problem that he ‘totally had’ and ‘didn’t need your help on.’ You spend this time as you usually do, glancing around Steve’s room noting the generic teenage boy memorabilia: a framed photo of a race car, popular movie posters, a… bowling pin? That one’s new, you’ll have to ask him about its origins later. 

“When did they start adding numbers to math?” Steve exclaims, interrupting your train of thought. He throws down his pencil and leans back into his chair, sinking almost to the point where his head is level to the table. You notice this action pushes up the back of his hair, seeing it in a less than perfect state feels… odd. It makes your friend look more endearing, if it were a girl looking at him or something. Not you, obviously. 

“Around 1600 BC.” You reply.

“See!” Steve perks up. “You’re so smart, you should just do the work for me. In the end it’ll be much less painful for the both of us.” He nods with fake sincerity to support his argument. 

“Steve, I already told you. Your parents pay me significantly less to hangout with you than they do when I’m tutoring. It doesn’t make financial sense for me to do your work.” You say in a matter-a-fact tone.

“Not funny.” He pouts.

“Neither is failing Algebra II,” you respond flatly. “So, back to question 4…”

…

The six of you line up in pairs with your dates. First, Tommy and Carol, the latter wearing a baby pink gown and the former a white tux with a pink cumberbun. Then you and Nicole in your matching navy. And finally Steve and Tina, you had only spoken to Tina a few times before tonight, but her sky blue gown seemed to suit her well. Steve stood behind her in a black tux. As she pulls her hair to the front of her chest for the photo, you watch as he puts his arms around her waist. She turns her head back, laughing with him. Their faces are close. You feel a pit form in your stomach. Your nerves about the night must have just caught up with you. Looking away from the pair, you place your hands in a similar position on Nicole’s waist. 

“Say cheese!” One of the photographers calls.

You smile at the camera, hoping that the rest of the night goes more smoothly. What’s the worst that could happen? It’s only Homecoming, right?

Flash

[carol-effing-danvers]

the scent of a man 

(yes this is about BIlly’s cologne)

Alright, so last week I reblogged a post about Billy’s cologne after an impulse purchase of both items and since they have arrived and I’ve actually worn them each for an entire day, I feel ready to discuss them For Real. 

Firstly, I enjoy scents. I have a decent nose, and a minor talent for stringing words together. I am not, however, an expert on perfume-making. I am a novice at best. 

Also, in the interest of self-honesty, I will admit that I was initially enthusiastic about Aramis and more skeptical about the Paco Rabanne

These were both somehow exactly as described and very different from what I expected, and they both have a very strong, kind of cheap alcohol top note that thankfully disappears quickly after spray/application. And since fragrance involves chemistry, the scent will also change depending on your own body chemistry - which is why you might really enjoy that perfume strip you smelled at Victoria’s Secret but realize you hate the way you smell 2 hours later when you get home. 

Aramis was the second one I tried, but it is depicted as Billy’s ‘main’ - you know, the one he wears like an actual human instead of rubbing it all over his dick like a fucking animal in heat. But I really have to level with you guys: you cannot convince me that Billy picked this shit out.

How do I describe this smell? 

Familiar, was my first impression, actually. Followed immediately by the horrified realization of why it was so familiar, even though the person this reminded me of has been dead for nearly twenty years. If you blindfolded me and told me “this is the canonical cologne choice for one of your favorite male characters” before I knew this belonged to Billy, my real honest answer would have been “...Steve?”

Not Steve Harrington. STEVE ROGERS. 

“...Steve? Steve, right? This is Captain America’s cologne?”

Because, theydies and gentlethems, this smells like my fucking grandfather. 

Come here, come in close. Let me describe the man who wears this to you. 

This man opens your car door for you. He has tea with your mother and talks to your father about fucking...baseball or stocks, or whatever will get him chatting. He helps your younger sibling get their merit badge for making their own campfire. He fingerbangs you like a goddamn champ but won’t fuck you in his car because he wants it to be ‘special’ for you. He lets you wear his own jacket on chilly nights and this is what that jacket smells like. I would suck this man’s dick with genuine enthusiasm and would have to immediately ghost him afterwards because he’s very sweet and a real catch, but he has stars in his eyes about marriage and three kids with a house and that shit gives me hives.

In other words, this is not our local disgusting feral rat king. Like...I love him so much but he is not That. 

This was kinda confusing to me, because it’s somehow spicy and ‘cold’ at the same time. ‘Spicy’ notes in scent are generally associated with a ‘warm’ vibe - cinnamon, clove, etc. This is not. Actually, having him wear this at night in winter is absolutely correct, because it has exactly that vibe. But in no way do I believe that Billy knowingly picked this particular fragrance out of his own agency.

I have two theories about this and you can select whichever one you like depending on how much pain you’d like to cause yourself. 

Either this was 1) a random bottle selected from a shelf - possibly because it was discounted, maybe he liked the appearance of the bottle - and Billy is not in an economic bracket to be able to just throw away perfectly decent cologne OR 2) this was originally a gift from his mom and Billy either can’t bring himself to get rid of it or maybe even purchases it himself now out of habit.

The Paco Rabanne - the dick cologne - on the other hand, I really, really enjoyed. Curiously, this had one characteristic I REALLY hadn’t expected, especially considering that this literally has ‘pour homme’ (for men) in the name. 

The intended gender for this fragrance is not readily apparent. 

I mean, gender is a construct, etc, but generally, fragrances are classified for marketing purposes. There is a decent amount of them that are explicitly not categorized on the binary, though. But this one is not supposed to be one of them - again, it says ‘for men’ in the name.

I enjoyed both but kind of thought the Paco Rabanne suited me better as a female presenting person, since Aramis is more distinctly and traditionally male - even more interesting implications there since as I pointed out before, Billy literally rubs this all over his genitals. (Almost as though Billy wears the Aramis as a mask concealing what’s really going on at his...center...) 

From the description, I was expecting something more fresh and herbal, maybe even ‘watery’ but this was actually something kind of woody and spicy, almost smoky, more subtle than the Aramis (again, more interesting implications there). 

It also wears off much more quickly - or maybe my own body chemistry just doesn’t blend with this as well? I will say I really, REALLY enjoyed the way that the Aramis combined with my natural chemistry on the dry down - about six hours after application, it was a sweeter almost nutty spice smell, like brown butter toffee - I loved it, it was EXCELLENT. But the Paco Rabanne just becomes slightly more powdery and creamy, almost soapy, and a little more piney - picture a quiet dark forest at night, in the dead of winter.

On the standard approval scale for male fragrance, would I suck this man’s dick? Yeah, but the fucking slut would tell all of his friends afterward.

Alright guys! Hope that was interesting/helpful for you, I’m gonna go finish my coffee and pray for the weekend to arrive.

[buckysred]

i’m very obsessed with stranger things again so….continuing the pet names but with my favs

STRANGER THINGS CHARACTERS + PET NAMES

Jonathan Byers: He is someone who is definitely nervous to use pet names at first. He’d be fiddling with something casually talking when he slips in a babe. But once it comes out of his mouth he cringes at himself and never uses it again. So he gets creative and starts messing around with variations of your name that he likes and starts using those instead. In short, Jonathan uses nicknames instead of pet names but every time he says its infused with just as much love and affection as any “babe” may be.

Nancy Wheeler: She loves using sweetheart on you bc to her that’s exactly what you are. Her sweet heart. She doesn’t use it very often but when she does you know she’s feeling some type of fluffy way.

Argyle: He’s definitely using a dollface or honey pie. Something that’s not used too often. But he likes to use his petnames for you in every sentence directed at you. “Hey, dollface. So, I was telling this guy at work today that it’s not the playing hard to get that actually gets you the girl. Its the perseverance and consistency. I said it right didn’t I, gorgeous? See what would I do without you.”

Robin Buckley: She’s definitely calling you pretty eyes or baby. When Robin finally gets into a relationship she’s literally the softest human ever. Like this girl is down freaking bad.

*sitting in car on first date*

You: rambling on about your day

Robin: stares in absolute adoration at the way your face scrunches and hands flair as you speak

You: “Why are you staring?”

Robin: “Ha- Have you ever noticed how pretty your eyes are?”

You: *slightly laughing at the random topic* “No, not recently. Why do you think they are?”

Robin: *nods briefly* “Yeah. Pretty eyes, I do.”

Billy Hargrove: This is a babe man if I’ve ever seen one. He uses it so constantly it’s pretty much the only name you know him to use. But he does sprinkle in some princesses/princes and honey’s bc he loves how flustered he can make you calling you that.

Steve Harrington: This man would call you baby or honey all the live long day. Like Jonathan, he’d be scared as hell to initiate shit like this bc of being burnt in the past but once he uses it and sees the look of love that passes over your face at the name, Steve never goes back. (I also have a slight headcanon that he’d call you dimples if you have those but I know everyone doesn’t so take that if it applies)

Eddie Munson: Similar to Nancy his favorite is Sweetheart.

“No, no, no. It’s supposed to be placed the other way, Sweetheart. Jesus, are you trying to give me a heart attack?”

Eddie also is the type to say pretty girl/ pretty boy/ pretty face. This one isn’t something that comes out often but like the first “I love you” from him. Yup, he’s using this one. Bc in his mind sweetheart is your name so special occasions need a little extra something.

*Chilling in his room with you jokingly attempting to imitate him on his guitar*

Eddie: *laughing at you all the while trying to give you solid advice on how to get a better sound than the screeching your creating*

You: “I dunno what you’re talking about I’m playing this damn thing like a freaking pro”

*there’s a prolonged pause that makes you look to Eddie in slight concern*

You: “Everything okay there, playboy?” (get it bc he plays guitar)

Eddie: *absolutely taken aback by how much he realizes he loves you* Yeah, every things fine. I just love you, Pretty Girl/Pretty Boy/Pretty Face.”

You: *Bashfully smiles* You’re pure trouble, Eddie. I love you too.

okay that’s all i’ve got :))) i hope y’all enjoyed lol. ALSO, if anyone wants to be shipped with a Stranger Things (or marvel) character, I would definitely be happy to do those. Just send in an ask with a description (can be long or just a few lines) about yourself and i’ll ship you with one (plus make sure to say if you want a guy or girl just so I know who you’re looking for me to pick. If you don’t specify, I’ll just pick whoever i think best fits no matter who it is). :)))

[mrs-steve-harrington]

1 (Describe your comfort zone—a typical you-fic), 15 (If you could choose one of your fics to be filmed, which would you choose?) and 26 (Do you beta yourself? If so, what kind of beta are you?) from the Meme for Fic Writers please? :)

1. Describe your comfort zone—a typical you-fic

Ooo! Fics with emotional hurt/comfort (or plain old emotional hurt) are definitely in my comfort zone. I went through a period of writing a lot of fluff and it was nice at the time, but when I found my way back to hurt/comfort and angst? It was like coming home. It's absolutely my comfort zone, writing angsty introspection for my favorite characters.

More specifically, my typical me-fic at the moment is something where Steve Harrington feels like he doesn't belong anywhere, like he doesn't have people who care about him, or if they do, it's only because they're good people who care about everyone. Throw in some pining (even if it doesn't come up in my gen fics, Steve has been pining for Nancy and/or Jonathan basically always in my head) and maybe a dash of comfort at the end where he begins to realize that at least one person does care about him, and yep. That's a typical me-fic for sure.

15. If you could choose one of your fics to be filmed, which would you choose?

Oh man, that's a toughie! So much of my stuff is introspection heavy... Like, my first thought was the missing piece of me (is you), but I feel like it would lose something being put to screen. I don't know how all of Steve's confusion and Jonathan and Nancy's worry would be translated into a visual medium.

HA, I say that, but then the one that I've decided I would love to see filmed is anything (anything) for you, which is also incredibly introspective. We spend so much time in Steve's head, feeling how conflicted he is over having to pretend to be into Jonathan in order to stay with Nancy... But whatever, I guess I am just feeling some kind of way, because I would love to see this one filmed somehow.

26. Do you beta yourself? If so, what kind of beta are you?

I do! I imagine I'm a very annoying sort of beta. Let me preface this by saying that, especially for people I haven't beta'd for before, I generally ask what they prefer to see from me. I know how hard it is to have someone look over your fic and find problem after problem with it. No fun. Some days I just can't handle that kind of honesty, so I try to be gentle with my own beta'ing.

But if they're cool with it? I'm the kind of beta who will give suggestions for sentence structure. Tell them to mix it up so that not every sentence starts with "He, She, [Name]". I'll shorten run on sentences (listen, the answer above already outed me as a hypocrite, it's fine). Change commas into periods or semicolons as needed. I'll ask whether dialogue sounds like something the character would actually say because something about it doesn't ring correctly in my head.

And then of course, I do my best to root out the typos or misunderstood words!

But for the most part, I don't actually do all of that much. Since this is a hobby and most are like me, just wanting to throw a story out into the void for people to read for free. Not going into it to get better or profit or whatever. So I guess more often, I just point out typos and confusing word choices and keep the other thoughts to myself.

[platypanthewriter]

Unless...? Ch.4

Part One | Two | Three

Billy replied every time Steve texted, unless he was working, or asleep, and Steve tried to ration it out—waiting until after practice, or making himself finish his meal, so he didn’t return to work to find out Billy’d been sighing heavily every time his phone chimed.

he’s as glued to his phone as u are, sent Robin, and Steve tried not to grin too widely in triumph.

Don’t know who you’re talking about, he sent back, and she sent an eyeroll emoticon.

“Y’know,” she said later, over video chat, while Steve folded his laundry. She had a straw dangling out of her mouth like a cigarette. “—the last time I saw you texting this much,” she said, pausing so he’d look up, and then slurping at her soda, “—you were dating.” She stared him dead in the eyes.

“What is your problem,” Steve hissed at her, his face flushing. “Quit this Steve and Billy sitting in a tree, K-I-S-S-I-N-G shit, it’s getting old.”

Steve couldn’t help it, he wandered into Victoria’s Secret the next day, and got surrounded by sales associates. “What size,” he got asked, and they seemed unsurprised when he said “I’m not sure.” He finally just grabbed like five pairs of lace panties, his face probably steaming, and ran back out, because Billy had probably—definitely—been kidding.

Steve was feeling more and more sure, the feeling leaden in his stomach, that if he brought the lace thongs up again, he’d get the hardest “No homo” of his life. He got back to the motel and threw the packages in his backpack, stuffing them down to the bottom, and curled up on the bed, remembering how fast things had gone south with Tommy. Tommy’d wanted to jack each other off—as bros, he said, as pals—and Steve had gone along, only to hit weeks of unanswered calls.

Robin had been decidedly unsympathetic—she’d never liked Tommy—but Steve had never really stopped thinking about where he should have drawn the line, before he scared off his best friend. Maybe he could tell I was wondering what it would be like to kiss him, he thought, staring at the ceiling. Maybe I leaned in too close, and grossed him out.

He imagined Billy blanking him at work, as Steve tried to explain he’d just...thought he was doing it right, this time, coloring in the lines. He was always too dumb to know where the lines were, was the problem. He rubbed his eyes, taking a long, shaky breath, and rolled to bury his face in his pillow.

He reminded himself of Billy’s flinch when Steve called him husband, as a joke, and groaned. Slumber party, he told himself. Like kids.

Steve didn’t text Billy for a few days, after that. He didn’t think about the lace thongs, either, and he didn’t order grilled sandwiches anywhere, or doodle butterflies in his notebooks, thinking about Billy’s tattoo flexing just a little as he breathed in his sleep.

Rehearsals were distracting, and Steve practiced hard. In the afternoons, he finished up two separate songs—about loneliness, but in a vague kind of way—and started another one that would never see the light of day, about how it would feel to have just one person on earth as excited about him as he was about half the people he knew. He tried not to even imagine that person as Billy Hargrove, because how weird was that, picturing him wanting to road trip together, or go camping, and lean into each other by the fire. Steve reminded himself, grimly, of what friends did—he’d learned it with Robin, and he could learn it before he creeped Billy out, too.

He was pretty sure one thing friends didn’t do was fantasize. He threw the thongs in the trash, and then fished them out the next morning, and stared at the pile of them, tissue-wrapped and perfumed on his bed. He opened the package, and considered them—one black, one red, one pink—he didn’t know why he’d said yes to white, because white panties weren’t even date night panties, according to Nancy. White and beige were for lounging.

White was for weddings, though, Steve thought, feeling ridiculous, and stuffing them back in the bag. He tried not to think about taking the joke way too far, and buying rings.

respond to yr boy, he keeps checking his phone like a lovesick goon, Robin sent the next day, and Steve clicked over to Billy’s messages and sent a string of hearts without even checking what Billy had said.

Once he actually checked, it was you forget about me, harrington? and Steve wanted to spin around in place, he realized, alone in his hotel room, because Billy Hargrove missed him, and so he did. He shuffled around to the tune in his head with his arms up like his phone was Billy himself, spinning and swaying his hips because nobody was looking, and then he let himself fall face-first on the bed like a Disney character, giggling. He dialed Billy, and curled up on his side, grinning.

“...I guess you do remember who I am, huh,” Billy grouched.

“I miss you,” Steve told him, confident for once, because Billy Hargrove, cool bartender sounded pouty, like a little kid. “Like I’d forget my best guy. My most favorite—”

“Oh my god, stop,” Billy laughed.

“Coolest person I know,” Steve told him, honestly, and Billy snickered harder, his voice going muffled.

“I’m at work, jesus,” he hissed, but he sounded fond.

“I wish I was there,” Steve told him. “I’d just dedicate you a song. Right in the middle of a set, just switch songs. Sorry, y’all, my bartender’s lonely.”

“Jesus,” Billy groaned, but Steve could tell he was smiling. “You say that, but it’d—it’d be something dumb, you’d sing me the Barney Song—”

“‘I love you, you love me,’” Steve sang cheerfully, as Billy said, “Do not. Do not sing it. Steve—”

Steve’s heart pounded, singing love words to Billy, but Billy’d suggested it, so it wasn’t weird, it was a joke. “We’re gonna have a huge weddiiiing,” he crooned, “—with a lacy thong, and kiss from me to you—”

Billy cackled, breathless. “Shut up!” he panted. “Stop, you dipshit, quit it—”

“Won’t you say you love me tooooo?” Steve held the note like a broadway star, and Billy must have died laughing, because all Steve could hear was wheezing.

“Shut up,” he gasped. “Holy shit, fuck you, Harrington—”

“Hey, you thought I wouldn’t do it, practically a dare, Hargrove—”

“Oh my god,” Billy groaned, still giggling, and Steve wished he was there, Billy next to him on the bed, so he could hear it better.

Billy needed to giggle more, Steve thought, trying not to think of Billy’s weight in his arms, warm and solid. He wanted Billy laughing helplessly into his shoulder, he realized, sharply, like a hunger pang. “I don’t think you’ve gotten enough love songs,” Steve told him, his voice a little husky with the stupid surge of emotion over Billy laughing.

“...most people don’t write songs,” he whispered back. “Most people aren’t you, Steve Harrington.”

“I think you need to hear it more,” Steve insisted, stubbornly. “I mean, I know I’m not supposed to talk about—Drunk Night—but—” Billy took a sharp breath, but didn’t say anything, and Steve winced. “I won’t, I won’t, I promise, but—but anybody who doesn’t tell you that—that they—they’re shitty. You’re amazing.”

“I’m really not,” Billy laughed, like Steve was being ridiculous.

“You are, you’re so smart—”

“I’m what now,” Billy interrupted, snorting a laugh that didn’t sound nearly as happy as his giggles while Steve had sung.

“You can remember all that drink stuff, it’s so complicated, and people make these bullshit crazy orders—”

“...that’s just memorizing, Harrington,” Billy sighed.

“I couldn’t do it,” Steve told him, honestly. “You were telling that lady all about, like, the history of France when she ordered something—”

“I told her where cognac was made,” Billy told him, laughing. “I’m not a history professor, jesus—”

“It was really interesting! I fall asleep when most people talk about history,” Steve admitted, grimacing. “I actually went home and looked some of it up! And then I pretended it was in your voice so I could stay awake.”

“Oh my god,” Billy groaned.

“I always find the smart people! I’m like a smartness-sniffer, like a drug sniffer dog,” Steve told him, trying to support his case, as Billy started laughing his ass off again. “I’m serious, like, I dated the smartest girl in highschool, and I ended up friends with the smartest kid in her little brother’s friend group, and look how smart Robin is—”

“Jesus Hobgoblin Christ,” Billy mumbled.

“I’m telling you, you’re smart, don’t mess with me on this, I’ll get Robin and Jonathan backing me up.” Billy made a weird gulping noise, like glugging faucet, and Steve frowned at his phone. “I mean it,” he insisted. “Who the hell told you you weren’t? Bull shit, man.”

“Sure wish I actually was who you think I am,” Billy said softly, and Steve couldn’t take it, he stuck his tongue out and made a loud PTHBBBBBT noise into the phone.

“You’re perfect, shut up,” Steve told him. “You’re great. I—I have receipts, okay, I can—I can present evidence to the court—”

“You’re so fucking weird,” Billy told him, his laughter soft again. “How come you’re way the hell away, I wanna see you, you freak of nature.”

“You’re still coming Friday, right,” Steve asked, again, and Billy laughed.

“Yeah, yeah, I’ll be there.”

“Can’t believe you want to drive all the way out here to see me,” Steve told him, rolling onto his back to beam at the ceiling. “Gonna hug you so hard.”

“Can’t believe you miss me so much you want me to,” Billy said, laughing. “We still doing this motel sleepover thing? You didn’t, uh, you don’t have a better offer?”

“What the hell better offer could there be,” Steve whispered, trying to imagine, and Billy laughed.

“Oh, shit, somebody actually wants a drink,” he said, and Steve laughed.

“See you Friday,” he said, and didn’t hang up.

“...yeah, yeah, see you Friday, Harrington,” Billy said, before the line went dead, and Steve could hear his smile.

He called Robin Thursday, determined not to tell her about the thongs. He’d tried one on, in a panic at two-fifteen in the morning, when he suddenly woke, his heart pounding, to a dream where Billy was willing to marry him if he only wore a thong, but the damn thing didn’t fit.

He yanked it over his feet—it felt like a stretchy, fancy rubber band—and stared at himself in the bathroom mirror, feeling like a moron with the tip of his dick sticking up over the band, the red mark around his waist from his briefs, and his hairy legs. The cheap motel toilet seat lid creaked alarmingly as he sat on it, groaning into his arms, the image of his dream-self chasing around the courthouse naked because his stupid lace thong didn’t fit still stuck in his head.

It was hard not to further imagine the way Tommy’s lip would have curled. Steve had thought—they’d practised kissing on each other, before dates, and after, a couple times, when the dates had been shitty. Tommy’d been the one to undo Steve’s jeans, the day before he stopped returning calls.

The idea of Billy grimacing at the damn thongs had Steve yanking it off again. He actually threw it in the toilet, and stomped out, chanting ‘fuck,’ over and over, before he remembered it’d clog the damn plumbing and some poor motel lady did not get paid enough to fish a thong out of the pipes with Steve’s dick hair still on it. He turned on his heel and ran back in, splashing around in the toilet with his bare hand, glad at least that he hadn’t flushed it down.

He wrapped it in toilet paper, and threw it in the trash, but it soaked through, red and black lace and soggy toilet paper, and he yanked it out again, hissing furiously through his teeth, and disentangled it from the previous night’s dental floss.

When he called Robin, later that morning, with pants on, he considered asking her how the hell to get toilet paper off a wet lacy thong. Would she even know, he wondered, flopping back on the bed. Did she even like that stuff? Maybe only men did, on women, he thought. He suddenly wanted to ask, but Robin was talking about her custom Xena-themed guitar case strap, and he couldn't really think of a way to ask. When she paused, he sighed. “Sounds rad."

"You're barely listening," she told him. "What's up?"

"Remind me not to fuck this up like I did with Tommy,” he told her, dully, staring at the ceiling, and she snorted a laugh.

“Nah,” she said, thoughtfully, “—Tommy was a fuckface. Good job on that one.”

Steve bit his lips, remembering waking after their mutual jaerk-off session, kind of excited to get Tommy over again and see where things went, and Tommy never picking up his calls again. Tommy still called, occasionally, and said things like “I have a fiance now,” before hanging up. Steve still wondered, sometimes, whether he could have been less himself, and still had a best friend. “...yeah, I guess,” he said, sighing.

“Billy’s better,” she told him, and Steve opened his mouth to brag, but she cut him off with “—he actually likes you,” and he deflated. “You gonna get him to the courthouse while he’s in town?” she asked, teasing, and Steve pthbbbbbt’d her.

Steve buzzed around all day Friday, grinning at everyone like Billy was coming from another country, and Steve hadn’t seen him in years. Dalton asked if they were about to meet his new girlfriend, and Steve had to tear himself away from his phone, blushing, to explain Billy was the bartender at work. “He is not my girlfriend,” he emphasized, sighing. “We’re just—”

“...boyfriends?” Dalton asked, and Steve glared at him, wondering how Robin had gotten to his Kool-aid.

“We’re friends!” Steve told him, feeling his cheeks heat further. “Everybody keeps asking me that!” Dalton raised his eyebrows and nodded. “Best friends,” Steve bragged, and Dalton’s eyebrows rose impossibly higher. “Look, I know it’s dumb, I just really like him—”

“Oh, I can see that,” Dalton said, nodding slowly as he tuned his bass. “...everybody can see that.”

The door banged, and Steve was on his feet so fast he almost dropped his coffee, but it was just Javi and Wesley, the guitarist and drummer.

“Oh, hey,” said Steve, sitting back down, and tapping his foot.

“...no need to get so excited to see us,” Wesley said.

“...you’re not his bartender,” Dalton told them, with the significant glance Steve had begun to associate with anyone around he and Billy, and he groaned.

He’d almost forgotten he was waiting for Billy, a couple hours in, when he looked up and saw him standing awkwardly off to the side. Steve sprang up mid-song to jump down off the stage, run over, and throw his arms around him. Billy grunted with shock as Steve lifted him a little off the ground in a hug, and then hugged him back, slowly, tucking his hot face in Steve’s shoulder.

Steve leaned back and swung him a little, relishing his weight, then let go and stepped back. He couldn’t stop smiling. “You’re here,” he said, and Billy laughed, glancing behind Steve.

“You stopped mid-song,” Dalton said—and he didn’t even sound mad, just bewildered.

“Sorry,” Billy told him, grimacing.

“I’m so glad you’re here,” Steve told him, throwing his arm around Billy’s shoulders, and dragging him over to introduce him to the guys. “This is Billy Hargrove!”

“....hi,” Billy said, sounding a little strangled, and side-eyeing Steve.

“He’s my best friend. We’re gonna get friend-married,” Steve announced, and Javi played a weird discordant chord on his guitar. Billy smacked his face with his hand.

“—as soon as he says yes,” Steve amended, and everyone looked even more disbelieving.

“I’m...gonna go sit down,” Billy said, extricating himself and wandering a few feet away to sit on the floor. “Go rehearse,” he muttered. His ears were bright red, and Steve wanted to touch them, but he cleared his throat, and jumped back up on the stage, giddy with the contact high of putting his arms around Billy Hargrove.

“Lemme get this, uh,” Wesley cleared his throat, “—straight,” he muttered. “They’re friends?”

“Friends,” Steve said, nodding. He waggled his eyebrows at Billy and played just enough of the riff from Owner of a Lonely Heart that Billy burst out snickering, and a chorus of ‘Whaaaat’s and ‘Oh my god’ s went up around him.

When they breaked, Steve was off the stage again in a flash.  “So, I was thinking,” he told Billy, dropping next to him on the boards to slide an arm around him, and tug him close enough that Steve got a whiff of Billy’s shampoo, and felt his cheeks heat. He cleared his throat, relaxing a little so they weren’t as tightly pressed together, but he forgot what he was gonna say, watching the flush spread across Billy’s freckled cheeks. Steve reached up and pressed his fingers to the tip of Billy’s reddened ear, feeling the warmth, and snickered.

“What were you thinking?” Billy growled, batting his hand away. “Stop poking me, Harrington—”

“Mmrm,” Steve said, squeezing him close again in a tight side-hug. “God, what’s it been, like, days? I need my Billy fix.” He leaned his head on Billy’s shoulder, sighing contentedly, and Billy groaned, sliding his arm around Steve, and letting his head thump against Steve’s hair.

“You’re so weird,” he whispered.

“You’re weird,” Steve fired back, at lightning speed, like a genius, and Billy started giggling, relaxing against him. Steve remembered how soft Billy’s hair had been on his pillow, when Steve had reached over and drunkenly patted it like a cat. He wished it wouldn’t be totally weird to run his fingers through it. “...we’re playing a set tonight, but there are other bands. I thought we could leave, get dinner, come back and listen?”

“You asking me to the dance, Harrington?” Billy asked, laughing, and Steve nodded.

“Yes, absolutely, we should dance,” he laughed, glad Billy had brought it up first, but Billy stiffened against him in the way he did when Steve was a little too much. Steve winced, and rolled it back. “I-I mean, if you want to. There—there are a couple bands you might like. We don’t have to. You’re probably tired.”

“...I am pretty tired,” Billy admitted, quietly, and Steve lifted his head off Billy’s shoulder, and pulled his arm back, inwardly cursing himself, but Billy squeezed him. “I wanna go. Though. We should go.”

“Okay,” Steve laughed, nodding with relief. “Sorry. I know I can be kind of...a lot.”

“No, don’t—” Billy sighed, slumping against him, and Steve laughed, putting an arm around him again, as Billy’s weight threatened to knock them both sideways. “You’re not—I mean, you—you’re not too much, jesus.”

Steve swallowed back a stinging in his eyes, feeling his cheeks heat further. It felt like a drop of sweat would sizzle away like water in a hot pan, and he laughed into Billy’s hair. “...you can always tell me to back off a little, though. I mean. I won’t get—weird about it, I promise, if you need a break—I was trying to give you a break coming here,” he laughed, grimacing. “—and then I just ended up begging you to come, but I can—I mean, I can hear ‘no’, I promise.”

“...I promise I’ll tell you if you’re ever too much,” Billy said, sighing. “You don’t need to give me breaks.”

“...I kinda wear people out,” Steve told him, grimacing. “I just—I know they don’t…” he paused, trying his words together like puzzle pieces. “Um,” he said finally, “—people try to—to stay, uh, they just get kind of...bored. With me.”

Billy narrowed his eyes. “I literally can’t imagine that happening,” he said, and the unexpected deadpan sarcasm slid into Steve like a really sharp knife, when the cut doesn’t hurt right away, and then wells up red, and drips everywhere.

He swallowed, clenching his jaw, and wondering why Billy had come, if he was already sick of it.

“Hey, hey, I mean that, I’m not gonna get bored,” Billy hissed. “Jesus, you look like a kicked puppy.”

Steve laughed, relaxing a little, because it wasn’t like Billy had known him for all that long. There was probably a while, yet, as long as Steve wasn’t weird about it.

“Will you get up here,” Dalton called over. “Stop mooning over each other for five minutes, maybe?” When Steve stomped back onstage, Dalton raised his eyebrows. “Hey, tonight,” he said, “—there are other bands, you should come early, bring your…” he trailed off, raising his eyebrows.

“Billy,” Steve supplied, annoyed. “His name’s Billy, he’s the new bartender.”

“Is that what they’re calling it now,” Wesley said, with a drum flourish, and Steve hoped to god Billy couldn’t hear them.

“You should bring him. After you take him to dinner.”

Steve opened his mouth, closed it, and then sidled closer. “Where are the good places for dinner, I’ve been getting burgers or whatever,” he whispered, and his old bandmates redeemed themselves, drawing around him to consider the merits of several local restaurants, with ratings for food, atmosphere, and price point.

Part One | Two | Three

[1985keery]

broken - steve harrington.

steve harrington x female!reader

prompt: after 3 years of fighting for her life, steve finally sees how broken she truly is.

words: 2,091

warnings: angst, cussing, mentions of puke, mentions of suicide :( 

The ceiling. It was so pretty, wasn’t it. Maybe it was her drugged mind, but she had never seen a better sight then the starcourt ceiling. The bright lights turned the beige top into a beautiful kaleidoscope. She was memorized. “Woah” she mumbles, her voice strained from the use. “Yeah” he agreed. 

Him. How was it always him? How are they always risking their lives together? It seemed to be something out of a fairytale. Thinking of it made her head hurt. Couldn’t they catch a break? They deserved it. He deserved it.

She subconsciously began to back up into him. He was a comfort for her, always protecting her and things. His tall frame stood above her as she laid the back of her head on his blood stained chest. If she had turned her head slightly, she could’ve felt the way his heartbeat was out of control.

Whatever was in that drug, it was surely doing it’s worst.

“Steve” she whispered. Her stomach was starting to feel rotten. She felt dizzy and unsure if she was gonna make it. It felt as if there was a curse on her or something, like she was due to melt. Her stomach gurgled again, and she started running. 

Working at the mall had it’s advantages, one being the two were able to locate the nearest bathrooms. Her blood stained white chucks squeaked as she turned every corner, She was sure the writing on them had been ruined. Shame, Robin drew such a pretty flower. 

As she heard Steve’s blue sneakers behind her, she felt such a heavy pang of guilt. Why did these things always happen to them? Why did they always have to save the world?

As they finally reached the men’s bathroom, they immediately started puking their lunches into the white toilets. He gripped on to the side of the toilets as she held on to her hair. The small bathroom was filled with the sound of gags and cries.

After a minuet he had finally stopped, grabbing toilet paper and wiping his mouth off, blood and vomit leaving his plump lips. She had finished too, but she just wiped her mouth off with the back of her hand. She was too weak to think logically.

She laid down on the black and yellow checkered floor and put her bruised legs on the red stall. The cold linoleum felt good against her damaged hands.  “The ceiling stopped spinning for me” she said, finally catching her breath. “Is it still spinning for you?”

Even though he could barley see through his swollen eye, he looked up. “Holy shit. No. You think we puked it all up?” She closed her bruised eyes and smiled, relieved at the thought. “Maybe”

Her heart rate was going down to normal, and reality was finally coming down on her. Her brain was on autopilot, almost. Her motives were controlled by wherever her legs were running to.

But now here she was, laying in a bathroom with King Steve after fighting Russians. Shit.

“How do we always end up like this?” she asked, a sad expression on her face. “Puking in a bathroom?’ 

She laughed even though it burned her cut lip. He always had the ability to make her laugh even under the greyist skies. “No, I mean, running for our lives. Fighting evil. I feel like a comic book character.” 

He gave a soft laugh at her comparison. “Nerd”. She smiled, hearing him tease her was a breath of fresh air. “Virgin” she teased.

“You must still be on the drugs” he laughed. She couldn’t see him, but she knew he had a smirk on his face, considering they had slept together. “Maybe. Ask me something. Interrogate me.” she said, mocking the Russian man. “I’ll interrogate you, sure.” he agreed, stopping to think of his question.

The air was light and it finally felt like they could let down their guard. They never did though, they knew better. “When was the last time you peed your pants?”

It was a stupid question, but she still laughed. “Today” she smiled, and she could hear his laugh  “What?” The smile in his voice was evident. “When the Russian doctor took out the bone saw”

“Oh my god” he laughed. There was his silly girl, the one he thought would be gone an hour ago. The one who got her pretty face beaten in by evil Russians. He was so glad she was back to him. “It was just a little bit though” He heard her giggle, and he smiled. 

“Okay, my turn” she said. She got up from the floor and laid her aching back on the stall. She was about to ask a silly question, like if he thought mermaids were real, but she started focusing on her hands. 

There was an equal amount of blood and dirt under her fingernails, and her knuckles were red from trying to defend herself. They would be bruised by the morning. There was blood and vomit on her shirt, she had a black eye and a bleeding nose, a gash on her forehead and every muscle in her body was aching. She looked like a walking pity party.

However, she was nothing compared to Steve. The poor guy couldn’t even see out of his right eye and there were cuts on all his face. She felt her stomach drop and got a quarter sized lump in her throat. 

“Do you think it’s even worth it?”

It was barley a whisper, but he heard it. “What?” He asked softly, noticing the mood change. She put her head in her lap, wanting to shrink as much as she can. She was tired of being seen, of being the one always saving the day. She wanted to curl up in a hole, where the villains could never hurt her again.

Every night there was a new nightmare. 

She couldn’t escape, everywhere she turned there was a new battle waiting to be fought. She felt angry. It wasn’t fair, she was only 19. Hell, she was just 17 when she fought the demogorgan with Jonathan and Nancy.

Even the cool flooring felt like fire to her, As she dug her fingernails into her palms, she shrunk deeper. “Y/N” Steve called, knocking on the wall. His heart started to race at the silence. “Did you OD over there?”

She lifted her head from her lap and wiped her tears, though there were more forming. “Nope. Still alive, somehow”. Her voice sounded so broken, and so scared. She dropped her head back into her lap

Steve slid under the stall, now sitting opposite of her. “Y/N” he said softly, taking her small hands into his rough ones. “Come on baby, talk to me”

Raising her head, Steve frowned at the tears on her cheeks. “Do you think it’s worth it, Steve? Risking our lives, being heros?”

He had never really thought about it. I mean sure, he had nightmares too, but life went on. It never occurred to him that it didn’t for her, that she was struggling. I mean, she would flinch at a lot of things and refused to walk in the dark, but now he realizes it was deeper then that.

“Well, yeah. The world needs heros” he spoke carefully. There was a fire in her chest, and that was the gasoline. “It’s not fair, Steve!” she yelled. Her usually small voice boomed through the bathroom. 

“Why is it always us? It’s not fair! I just wanted to be a normal teenager! But now I can’t sleep, can’t go to parties, and I can’t even put up Christmas lights!” her hands had began to shake from anger, but she was far from done,

“I’m fucked Steve! And I can’t even go to therapy, because they’d think I’m crazy! And Lord knows I can’t talk to my parents. Jesus, everyone gets to have this normal life, but we’re fighting demons once a year. They have no clue about demogorgans, or demo dogs, and- and- a-and they’re happy! I don’t even know what true happiness is anymore because I’m always fucking paranoid!

Angry tears had slipped down her cheeks. She was sobbing at this point. Quiet whines came out of her mouth. A shaky breathe, And her head was back in her lap. 

Steve laid his bleeding head back. She was right. Absolutely right. The air was thick, and it felt like it could suffocate them.  He felt so sorry for her. He grabbed her hand and put his chin on her knee. The yellow lights of the bathroom gleamed down on them. The hopelessly damaged kids.

“I had a plan, y’know” she said, as the silence broke. She licked her lips and sniffed. “At 17, I had a plan. I was gonna graduate, hopefully valedictorian. I was gonna go to Indiana State, get a job and an apartment, and I was gonna get the hell away from here, Have a family, a normal family, and a life for myself”

Jim Hopper and Joyce Byers came to her mind. It wasn’t fair to them either, how they ended stuck in Hawkins again. Nobody deserved to be stuck here.

He took a moment to process her words. He had a plan for himself at 17, too. One that involved Nancy Wheeler and a white picket fence. Now, thinking of it made him shiver. Looking at the girl who was in his plan now, he sighed.

“And at 18?” he asked. She clenched her first and rose up, unshed tears in her eyes. He watched her throat move as she swallowed. ‘I didn’t think I’d be here at 18″

He squinted, and it was clear to her that he didn’t understand. She squeezed her eyes shut, fearful of his reaction. Surely he would think less of her, he might even treat her with pity. 

“But, we survived the demogorgan” the innocent man said.

“Steve”

It was so painful. Having to tell her lover her darkest secrets. She was afraid the bright shades of red and pink around their love would now be black and grey. Steve didn’t deserve her, she thought. He deserved a girl like Nancy Wheeler, or like Tammy Thompson. Someone who wasn’t completely and utterly broken. 

“Yeah?” God, it still wasn’t clicking. She couldn’t say it, she had tried, but the worlds simply could not leave her mouth. So she said it with her eyes.

And then he understood. 

Something in his eyes had changed, and he finally saw how broken she really was. He always thought she was beautiful, but now he saw every detail of her face. He saw the frown lines and the eyebags, and the hurt in her eyes. “Oh” he mumbled.

This was it, she thought. He was gonna call her a freak, or an idiot. The two never made them selves official, but they knew, Everyone knew. “Holy shit”

Her heart was beating again, for the millionth time that day. “Yeah. Holy shit”

She didn’t look at him, too afraid of seeing his expression, but he couldn’t look away from her. His sweet, sweet girl. How stupid he was, to not see how she was feeling. It was his job to make sure she was okay. He felt as if he had failed her. “You OD over there?” she asked, trying to break the tension.

“No” he answered. “Just thinking”. She nodded and felt another lump in her throat. Her fingernails had left inprints in her palms, and she was desperately trying to not cry again.

“I had a plan at 18 too” he said. She finally pulled her eyes to him, “I was gonna join the circus.” 

She certainly was not expecting that. “What?” 

“I was gonna join the circus” he said, smiling, “I’d be one of the clowns, or maybe even the ring leader” She finally laughed again. “Why.... why was that in your plan?”

“I thought it’d be cool, and I’d look hot in a rainbow wig.”  He was rubbing his thumb against the back of her hand, and was relived to see the soothing action was working. She laughed as she said. “You wouldn’t dare mess up your precious hair, Harrington. I on the other hand would make a excellent acrobat”

“Please, you did gymnastics for what, 6 months? And then what happened” They were both smiling now. “My ankle healed!” she defended, as they both laughed. 

The doors burst open and suddenly Robin, Dustin and Erica were in front of them. “Seriously, what the hell” Dustin yelled, clearly pissed. The two only looked at each other and laughed again. Steve stood and reached out his hand. “One more battle?”

Her smile dropped a little, but she took his hand anyway. “One more battle”