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hellfire--cult · 1 year ago

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Harrington!reader who struck up a friendship with Billy after finding him crying. It wasn’t long until she developed a crush on the older boy. But she knew she was the least attractive girl in school, and on the cheerleading squad. Every girl was all over him, she never thought he’d see her that way.

Movie Night

I'm so sorry, I got carried away, and I made it super long, SO I HOPE YOU ENJOY AND I HOPE EVERYONE ELSE DOES this has: fluff, angst, mean brother persona on Steve's behalf, OOC Billy Hargrove, soft side.

wc: 8k (i got a lil inspired, no one requests Billy and I love to write him 😭)

Stupid Steve. Stupid school. Stupid fucking stereotypes.

You understand, you get it, the fucking sister of Steve Harrington should be the perfect girl, perfect as her idiotic brother. If only they knew that being in every single sport isn’t what Steve wants, it isn’t what he desires, it isn’t what he always dreamed about.

But it’s not that perfection they want from you, oh no. It’s not your fault you have bad eye sight so you have to wear glasses, and for some reason that made you fucking undesirable. Just because you are wearing glasses, and you’ve been wearing them ever since middle school, where there were minimum problems with it, and now in high school when you just want to be able to date someone, or even kiss, it’s almost impossible because of them.

So yes, you knew people didn’t want to be with you, and you knew that it was all because of the idealization of the Harrington girl not meeting their expectations. Jokes on them, every single fucking guy in school looks like stepped on shit.

When you finally got into freshmen year, you already knew Steve was the most popular guy in school, always boosting about it at the dinner table, father always saying how proud he is for Steve being the captain of almost every fucking imaginable sport. You looked up to Steve, you really did look up to your brother… Until you crossed those forsaken high school doors, and the only face your brother sent you was that of disgust and turned his back on you.

And that sets your fate.

Now as a Junior, your brother finally graduates this year. Ever since he started dating Nancy who is in the same year as you, he has relatively changed. At home, he now tries to invite you to hang with him at the mall, or tell you to have dinner together when your parents aren’t home… You declined his invitation every time. You prefer to eat dinner in your bed, alone, while he drives away to be with Nancy. Just you, your books, and some good music. You are fine.

It doesn’t help the fact that you have just one friend at school, and she’s not even always with you because she is Nancy’s Best Friend. Barb was always nice to you, and it’s the only one you talked to in class, because then in cheerleading practice, which you had to enter because you needed extracurricular credit because your parents said so, you were given the cold shoulder by every teammate there. You didn’t participate in the cheers really, you just wear the uniform every now and then and pass them bottles of water.

You just have to survive one year, just one more year and you can go to college, probably start anew, meet people, meet someone. You fixed your glasses on the bridge of your nose as you took notes while sitting at the bleachers, hearing the squeak of the tennis shoes of all the boys in the basketball team just going around. You hear a thump, making your eyes look up to see your brother laying on the floor, making you frown.

Then it made sense, as Billy Hargrove smirked, helping your brother stand up again.

You knew that he wanted to take Steve’s position as the most popular guy at school, getting prom king and all that shit. You have heard your brother complaining about him on the phone sometimes, maybe to Nancy or to one of his friends. From what you’ve seen, Billy looked like a tough and irritating guy, and there is no need for you to get close to him at all, and you really could care less about what he does to your brother.

And that is basically your everyday life. Invisible, and you’re fine with that.

You’re fine.

“Hey, can you believe that guy?” Your head snapped up to see your brother at your door, leaning against the frame with his arms crossed over his chest. You raised your eyebrow at him, looking back down at your book. “If he takes away my captainship in the team, I will– Dad will fucking cut my head off.”

“That’s what you get for following his dreams from day one.” You mumble in a low tone, but he caught onto it, frowning at you.

“I have my own dreams. I don’t follow his.” You nodded at that while still not looking at him. You really could care two shits about all of this.

“Maybe Nancy can help you with this kinda stuff. I'm busy.” You heard shuffling at the door and then a sigh. You heard steps and you raised your head to hear him slam his door shut, and you knew he was probably getting ready to go to a party or something because of the music he started playing on his radio. Not once you were invited to one of those, not even by your own brother. He had hosted parties before, and you were commanded to stay in your room all night. The only time you came out of your room was to the bathroom to pee, and even then you had to wait because people were always making out inside.

You got up from bed, closed the biology book to then set it on your desk, looking over to your library of VHS’s tilting your head to check what to watch tonight. You picked Terms of Endearment and Sixteen Candles. Your collection was full of romance and dramatic movies because it’s just your favorite genre to watch. Same with your books, your favorite being Sense & Sensibility.

Steve left after a few minutes, and you made your way down to start your Friday movie night, and tomorrow will be the same, next weekend too. You should get more movies, you are on a roll of rewatching stuff by now. But it was at this moment, when you put the cassette into your player, and you finally sat down and started watching Sixteen Candles that it all simply fell apart.

Your rough facade crumbles down as you see the romance of the characters on screen, the friendship that is displayed in these movies, late calls with friends, kicking your feet because the guy you liked kissed you, or even called you to spend time with you. You stare absentmindedly at the screen as you see the kissing scene finally happening and your fingertips brush over your lips, just softly, tracing the shape of them.

After a few hours Steve finally returns home, completely sober and cursing under his breath. He sees the light of the living room turned on and some blue light shining on. He walked inside to find you asleep on the couch with the TV still on. He sighed, walking over to turn it off but then his eyes looked at your form, making his face completely fall down.

He bent over your figure to see the dried tears on your cheeks, falling down onto the couch. He looked over to the coffee table to look at what you were watching, getting hold of the case. You watch the same movie every Friday night… And every Saturday night. He rubbed his mouth with a frown to his face as he looked back at your frame. And he always repeats the same action every Friday night and every Saturday night.

He stands up to grab the blanket that’s over the couch to put it over your body, and with tears in his eyes he bends over to press a soft kiss at the top of your head with a quiet whisper that he always repeats and that you never hear, not that you would believe him anyway.

“I’m sorry.”

Monday came way faster than you expected, and the morning was even quicker. Your parents were still away on their business trip, but Steve and you knew they were just out on vacation by themselves. Why have children when you just push them aside?

You take out the lunch bag with your sandwiches in it, and you walk out of the school doors and into the football field which was deserted because it was lunch time, so it always gave you the best opportunity to head behind the bleachers to have some peaceful time for yourself, and that was until you almost dropped your bag as you screamed and flinched when you saw someone already there who snapped his head back at you.

Billy Hargrove.

Your breathing was heavy and your eyes were still trying to focus from the scare but as soon as they did you realized that Billy’s eyes were filled with tears, one or two might have escaped because you could see the glistening trail that they left behind on his cheeks. You were trying to talk to him, but then his eyebrows furrowed together, a tight angry look on his face.

“The fuck you looking at Harrington?” You flinched back at that, annoyance switching inside of you instead of fear. This guy was crying and has the audacity to sound threatening?

“Oh, right, sorry, it’s just seeing Billy Hargrove actually having feelings is a sight.” His eyes snapped wide at your response, surprise crossing his features while he stared at you this time. “Who’s staring now?”

“Oh, right, sorry, it’s just that hearing you fucking talk for once is a sight.” You were taken aback by his response, mimicking yours. You sucked on your right cheek in annoyance as he wiped his cheeks away.

“Well, off you go.” He snaps his head at you, a frown on his features to then letting a smirk spread on his lips.

“I came here first. You go.” You scoff at that, shaking your head at him.

“No, I always come here at lunchtime, it’s my place.”

“Well, that’s lonely as fuck.” You know that. You fucking know that, he doesn’t need to say it to your face, not the heartthrob of the school. Before your heart could turn in pain you nod at him.

“Fine, take it for today.” You turn to finally walk away. Maybe you can eat at the picnic table in the forest? But sometimes the stoner would go there to deal, and you weren’t judging Munson really, you gotta do what you gotta do to survive.

“Wait.” You stopped on your tracks and slowly turned around to see Billy slumping down on the ground, his back resting against a column of the bleachers while he rested his forearms on his bent knees. “You can stay here if you don’t tell anyone you saw me like this.”

Who would you even tell this to? He might be scared that you would tell Steve about it, but Billy seems to not know you don’t actually have a good relationship with your brother, and you have just one casual friend in this school. You look in between the bleachers and towards the woods and then you look back at Billy, giving a sigh and finally sitting down with your legs crossed.

It was silent between you two, almost uncomfortable but not quite. You were eating your sandwich and you took out a bottle of water out of your bag too. You glanced once at him, and he was looking at the distance, just breathing slowly. You wanted to know what happened to him, because he didn’t seem like the guy that would cry easily. He looked at you, raising an eyebrow up at you.

“Why do you eat here?” He asks and you clear your throat, taking a sip of your water.

“Why were you crying?”

“Touché.” You gave a nod in understanding. You weren’t going to talk to him if he wasn’t going to talk to you. You looked inside your bag to grab onto the other sandwich, and you handed it to him. He looked at it with a frown and then back at you.

“If you’re here it means you didn’t eat. Basketball players need food.” You calmly say to him and he looks down at the sandwich, taking it from your hands, and then taking a bite out of it, grimacing in disgust.

“What the fuck is in this?” He looks down into it and you smirk at him, finishing off your own.

“Mustard and pickle sandwich.”

He ate the sandwich anyway. It was nice to eat lunch with someone for once, even if that person was Billy Hargrove and it would be a one time thing in your life… Though, it wasn’t. Billy was back behind the bleachers almost everyday after that. He wasn’t at all that persona that he was with everyone else with you. The cocky insufferable bastard you knew was all a mask, and you could see it when he told you about how Tammy Thompson tried to hide a fart with her cough in class.

“You’re fucking kidding…” You were giggling, covering your mouth as you both sat in front of one another, and the closeness slowly shrinking as two weeks went by of eating lunch with him.

“I am not, she actually thought it was discreet, but I heard it. Not that I said anything about it, but it was a total boner killer.” You raised an eyebrow at that, swallowing your apple that you were having as dessert.

“What, girls can’t fart Hargrove?” He rolls his eyes at you and then raises his hand to flick your forehead, making you wince and rub the skin he left in a red state.

“I didn’t say that. When you trust someone enough to do it in their face, sure. Not in the middle of class, and much less when you are a chair in front of mine.” At that you let out a laugh, throwing your head back. He chuckled and took a swig of his cigarette, blowing the smoke to the side so it wouldn’t hit your face.

“God, I really don’t pay attention to shit like that.” You took another bite of your apple and Billy was still looking at you, clearing his throat, making you look up at him.

“What do you do on Friday nights? I mean, your brother is at every single party but you are nowhere to be found.” He asks you and you feel your cheeks flush slightly at that. You look down at your apple and swallow your bite.

“I often watch movies. Have my own movie nights, sometimes with popcorn, and if I am feeling fancy, S’mores.” You gave him a small smile as you took another sip of water but Billy was still looking at you with a frown to his eyebrows.

“By yourself?” And you suddenly felt embarrassment washing over you. How pathetic were you? He is a guy that has every student in this school eating at the palm of his hand, plans of going out somewhere almost everyday, a date every single night, and you just watched movies and read books for company.

“I– I have to go.” You suddenly blurt out, standing up abruptly to then wipe your jeans from the dirt of the floor. Billy was following suit, doing the same thing, and about to stop you, but you were already walking away. You didn’t need the reminder of how stupid all of your life sounded. You didn’t need it from him. You were always reminded of it by your father, saying that you should be more like his son. Your mother says that at her age she already dated someone and had tons of friends. Steve showing off his new relationship and friends to you, keeping you in the shadows from everyone.

You didn’t need more reminders.

So when you got home, and realized Steve was already out of sight, probably at Heather’s party, you took your time to shower, put on some comfy sweatpants, a white t-shirt and a gray hoodie, and you grabbed your movies and went downstairs. Maybe they will cheer you up from all the stuff that has happened with Billy today. It’s stupid, you both don’t talk to each other all day, yet at lunch you just talk non-stop.

Sweet popcorn was today’s choice and you were already salivating at the smell of it all. Once it was done you put it in a bowl and headed over to the living room, turning the TV on, and putting Pretty in Pink in your VHS. Steve must be getting drunk with his friends by now, dancing to Roxette or something like that. You popped a single popcorn in your mouth and you were about to press play but you were interrupted when glass knocking was heard from the sliding door to the garden.

You jumped up in fear, eyes widened as you quickly turned your head and saw Billy fucking Hargrove outside the doors. You blinked once, twice, three times. Wasn’t he at Heather’s party too? You stood up from your seat, blushing at your attire but he already saw you in it, no time to actually go change. You fixed your glasses at the bridge of your nose as you walked towards the doors to finally unlock them and open a side for him.

“What the fuck are you doing here Billy!” You almost screamed at him, but he raised his hands up in a surrender mode and chuckled at you.

“By that yelling I am assuming your parents are still gone. Let me in, I’m fucking freezing.” He walks past you and you scoff at the nerve of this man. You close the door and you see him looking around with his hands inside his black leather jacket. Your eyes trailed downwards for a second, taking in how tight his pants were, but you snapped out of it, walking around him so that you were facing him.

“What are you doing here?” You ask again and he simply shrugs, still looking all around your house.

“Party was lame as shit, and you said there was a movie night here tonight. That seemed far more interesting than Tommy trying to do a keg stand and falling onto it, breaking his nose.” He walks to the couch, sitting down on it and he immediately grabs the bowl of popcorn from the coffee table. Your mouth hangs open again at this, going to the couch and sitting down next to him.

“You– I don’t need your pity.” You say to him, looking down at your hands as you played with the hem of the sleeves of your hoodie. He chuckles at that and shakes his head.

“Sweetheart, I don’t pity anyone. The party was really fucking boring.” He takes a popcorn in his mouth and he hums at the sweetness. You raise an eyebrow to look at him. You never thought Billy Hargrove would be on the sweet side of stuff. “So, what are we watching?”

A smirk formed on your lips. He was gonna fucking hate it, that’s what he gets for barging in your house.

Yet–

“I fucking hated Duckie.” You were wide eyed at him. He had paid complete attention to the movie, even giving small commentary that he really liked the fact that the girl stood up for herself. He turns to look at you, a frown coming to his eyebrows. “What?”

“I just… I didn’t think you like this genre of movies.” You reply to him, a little bit nervous for some reason and he smiles at you and then looks back at the screen.

“I never watched one of these. They have a lot of plot, and they’re interesting.” Your eyes sparkled in excitement and you grabbed his shoulder, which made him look at you alarmingly.

“You’re in for a ride.”

Billy came back again the next day, taking the chance that Steve was out at Nancy’s for the night. He then sneaked into your room while Steve slept and you played Grease on your small TV and VHS that were on top of your dresser. He actually enjoyed it, but despised it because it was a musical. The next time, he actually came through the front door, and you both finally watched Sixteen Candles together. Now, Saturday Night, Steve was at Nancy’s for a family dinner and Billy was taking out two beers from the six pack he came with.

“I don’t drink…” You say to him and he raises an eyebrow up at you.

“Daily or weekly, but you have tried alcohol. One beer is not going to kill you Sweetheart.” You nodded at that and you grabbed onto the can, sitting back down on the couch. You opened it as Billy walked towards you and plopped down with a huff, already taking a swig out of his can. You grimaced at yours and you took a tentative sip, lowering the can to look at him, completely disgusted by the taste and he simply threw his head back in laughter.

“Disgusting.” You say to him and he shrugs at you, sending a smile your way.

“It’s an acquired taste baby, you just keep drinking it, if you feel fuzzy you can leave it.” You felt your heart accelerate at him, feeling the butterflies exploding in your stomach. You didn’t know when your relationship with Billy took a turn for the better, but he actually sends a smile your way this time when walking down the halls, he sometimes greets you when you pass by him in the hallways, like he is not making it seem like he doesn’t know you.

So it was hard not to fall for him. It was undeniable at this point, and even if he was strong and mean, and an ultimate bully to everyone else, he comes here to your house, watches romantic comedies with you, eats popcorn with you, and you two talk about nonsense all evening. Nobody knows about this, and you’re happy to have this secret between the two of you. You can live in the fantasy a little bit longer.

“What did you bring?” You look at the cassette he got and you look at the front of it. You grimaced again and showed it to him. “The terminator?”

“Classic sweetheart, it’s an action movie, you gotta expand your movie knowledge a bit.” You didn’t want to complain, it was the first time Billy suggested to watch something he likes, and in reality you were interested in knowing it, and hopefully like it the way he does.

News flash, you didn’t like it.

“Why are there so many guns?! It's unnecessary!” You complain, your beer gone and you do feel a little fuzzy but not too much. You just felt giddy. He laughed at your side and shook his head as he drank his second can.

“That’s what action movies are, baby, they are irrational, little to nothing of plot, and shooting everywhere.” He says and you sigh at that, shaking your head. The room filled with silence as Billy looked forward, his smile slowly disappearing. “You know why I come here often?”

You straightened at that, blinked with confusion as you turned to look at him. You frowned when you saw how serious he got, just out of nowhere, and your belly turned for him, not in a romantic way, but more of a worry kind of nervousness.

“Because parties now bore you?” You ask him and he gives you one chuckle and then shakes his head, resting it on the backrest of the couch, looking at the ceiling.

“You help me distract myself.” He took a deep breath in as you kept looking at him and you knew it was something he was having a hard time talking about. “The day you saw me crying… I was actually afraid.”

“What?”

“My father… Let’s just say he has– a rough hand. Any slip up I make, I just get a punch out of it… I’m just so angry all the time, so unlike my fucking self and who I actually am when I am at school. I just let out my anger towards people, because I cannot take it out on my own father.” You could see his Adam's apple bobbing up and down, and you knew he was trying to choke back tears as he talked. Your heart just knotted at seeing him like this, feeling helpless, not knowing what to actually tell him.

“Billy–”

“And you… I tried to be mean to you… And you actually had the guts that no one had at this school yet. Talk back to me.” His head turned to finally look at you again and your eyes burned at his confession. “I couldn’t be mean to you… With you I can— I can be calm, watch a movie, talk about how creepy that Creel house is and how we should sabotage it– I mean, the only thing I talk with the people from school? Chicks, sex, cars, alcohol.”

You couldn’t help the small smile that appeared on your lips, turning your whole body to face him, your legs coming to rest on top of the couch too, bending them and resting your side on the backrest.

“Well, I am glad I could help in some way… My house is always open for you Billy.” His eyes were just staring into yours now, the only thing being heard in the room were your breaths, until he finally talked.

“Can I kiss you?”

What?

There is no possible way you heard that from him. This is a dream, it has to be a dream. There is no way Billy Hargrove, your now friend, your crush, the guy you like has asked to actually kiss you. This only happens in movies, in books, and it never happens in real life, at least, not to you.

“W-Why would you want to kiss me?” And Billy’s features turned into saddened ones at your words. Don’t you realize how beautiful you are? He straightened up on the couch, his body turning to face you as well as both of your hearts jumped out of your chest.

“Why wouldn’t I want to kiss you?” was his short answer. Your belly turned in pure nervousness now as your body grew a cold sweat. You never kissed anyone, and Billy seemed to know how to do it, and you were just too inexperienced. A flush came over all of your body as you fixed the glasses on the bridge of your nose and you looked down to avoid his gaze.

“I– I never–” You gulped, not being able to finish the phrase from how stupid it sounded. A warm hand was pressed on your cheek, making you lift your head up to look at him again, and you didn’t realize how close he got to you, his blue eyes staring into yours.

“I ask you again… Can I kiss you?” And you finally give him a nod. You weren’t going to miss this chance, not for one second. He still wants to kiss you despite you not knowing what you were getting yourself into. He smiled at you and grabbed onto your glasses, pulling them off your face and setting them on the coffee table. “They were just going to get in the way.”

You took a shaky breath in, his hand still on your cheek as he slowly leaned down towards you. You closed your eyes and his remained open to remember your features as he finally does what he has been wanting to do for the past weeks. At first it was a simple attraction of course, but he knew it was more than that, and he was scared as shit about it… But he never wanted someone as much as he’s been wanting you.

His lips connected with yours in a soft peck, brief, and you let a breath go out of your lips, only for another peck to land. Then another, then another that lingered there a bit more, and then the next one he just stayed there, and suddenly started moving his lips, guiding you as your heartbeat made you deaf in your ears. How do people do this and not faint at the spot?

The lip smacking was heard in the room as your hands finally were brave enough to travel, one scanning his bicep, the other one moving towards the back of his neck, feeling his skin under your fingertips. His free hand landed on your waist, not pressing too hard so that you know that he is being mindful of you. At this point, Billy would already be inside someone, satisfying his needs, but with you… He wasn’t going to do that, at least not now, not yet, and that is if you let him.

He wants to take care of you.

He pulled away for a second, his lips touching yours still as your breathing mixed with one another’s in soft pants. You were feeling as if you were burning all over, not knowing what was happening with you. You never felt like this before, and maybe it has to do with the fact that not only was Billy good looking, but you also feel more than just friendship for him.

“You okay?” You nod frantically at him, wanting more, giving him a peck on the lips making him chuckle in a low tone. “Sorry baby, but I need more.”

He suddenly pushed you back on the couch, crawling over you and you didn’t even think, you just wrapped your arms around his shoulders, and he kept his bottom half away from yours, even if it pained him on his thighs from the strength he was doing to keep himself up. His lips connected with yours again, rougher this time, more desperate, the kiss suddenly turning into a very heated one as he suddenly licks your bottom lip a few times.

The butterflies in your belly explode as you open your mouth and his tongue finally slides in. You gasp at the feeling, your hands finding his biceps through his blouse, and you felt his chain hitting your neck at every movement. One hand was still gripping on your waist, while the other remained at your nape, pulling you deeper into the kiss.

You really can’t believe this is happening, not to you, not with Billy, it doesn’t make sense that he looked your way, it doesn’t make sense that he actually wants to kiss you, not when he has Heather on his tail all the time, or Carol even if she is dating Tommy. Or Janet. You always hear them talking about him in the bathroom, always planning their move on him, and this feels you with a sense of power, with a sense of accomplishment and pride in yourself.

Your hands ran through his hair and he groaned into the kiss, and that ignited so many things inside of you that you never felt in your life, and you wanted to hear more of it. Billy was trying his best to keep himself in a hovering position with you, but he was finding it harder and harder to do so. He can’t go on, at least not today when it was your first kiss. He didn’t want to scare you, even if your urges were the same as his, because he could feel your need to pull him even closer.

The door suddenly clicked and both of your eyes snapped wide open, pulling away, looking at one another, panting heavily. Best scenario, it's your parents, and they would be thrilled that you actually, and finally, have someone over at your house… Now, worst case scenario–

“What the ACTUAL FUCK?!” You both sat up on the couch to look over at Steve, who was standing there in the living room, wide eyed, and his face reddened bit by bit. Shit.

“Steve–” You started talking but he raised his hand at you, to then point a finger at Billy.

“Get the fuck off my sister.” You wanted to roll your eyes at this, because why is he acting all protective now? You finally got some action in your fucking life and he wants to take it away from you.

“I don’t think she wants me to leave.” Billy dares to say, glaring at your brother who took a look at the coffee table, seeing the cans of beer. His mind started racing, and Billy followed his gaze, his mouth opening to talk but Steve was running up the stairs already. Your eyes widened and you pushed Billy off, standing up quickly and urging him to do the same.

“You have to leave!” You were trying to push Billy towards the front door but his feet were still planted against the floor with a frown to his face, and your head snapped to the stairs to see Steve running back down with his baseball bat in his hands. Billy’s eyes widen when Steve starts to approach him with a swinging motion.

“Taking fucking advantage of my sister is something I won’t take from you Hargrove, so get the fuck out of my house before I crush your skull in!”

“Shit, Harrington– Fucking listen for a second–” Steve’s baseball bat hits the backrest of the couch, and you could see the dent of the wooden under it that he created. Billy ripped himself off you and gave you a look as if asking if you were okay.

“I’ll talk to him, you go.” You tell him and he gulps, looking back at Steve with a threatening look on his face which Steve only scoffed at.

“I’ll talk to you later.” Billy says with a small squeeze to your hand as he walks out of the house, passing by Steve. Your brother follows him to the front door and he doesn’t walk back inside until Billy drives away with his Camaro. After the roaring engine can be heard in the distance, Steve slams the door shut, throwing the bat at the floor and stomping back into the living room where you were standing there with a glare on your eyes as if you were about to kill him.

“When I saw his fucking car out in front of the house I thought it was a stupid coincidence, and I come in here to see you about to have sex with the sluttiest man in the goddamn school! What are you thinking!?” You frown in anger at that, stepping towards him.

“I am his friend! I wasn’t going to have sex with him, and he wasn’t taking fucking advantage of me! I drank ONE beer, ONE!” You yell back at him and he fake laughs as he runs his hand over his face.

“The first time you have a guy in this house, and it is Billy FUCKING Hargrove. The one guy that I am fighting with for Captain at our basketball team, the one guy that gives me the hardest fucking time of my life at the moment, and you want me to just accept that he wants to be with you because he WANTS TO?” Your chest hurt at those words, your own coming out in soft stutters at Steve’s blind rage.

“He even asked me if I wanted to, and I said yes–”

“God, you cannot be this fucking stupid! He hates me, makes my life a living hell, and you seriously think that he is a nice guy!? You really think there is no ulterior motive!?” He yelled at you and his words were stabbing you in every part of your body, your head already spinning from how harsh he was being with you.

“Why? Is it impossible that he actually wants to be with me?” You try to say loudly at him, even if your fingers start to feel numb. He scoffed at that, looking at you.

“Yes, and I don’t think you are dumb enough to not see that.” He was referring to so many other things, and it was regarding Billy’s persona, in Billy’s actions, in his rivalry with him… And when he saw your tear rolling down your face, his anger evaporated as if water was being thrown at him.

“Okay…” Was your defeated response. You turned around to retrieve your glasses from your coffee table and Steve winced, clenching his eyes tightly together as pain rushed through his body.

“That wasn’t what I meant– Hey, listen to me, I really didn’t mean it to sound like that–” But you weren’t listening, putting the cassettes back into their cases and turning off the TV. You grabbed them and walked past him, going up into your room. Steve stood there, knowing he hurt you once again, not knowing what to do but run a hand through his hair, cursing under his breath as he started pacing back and forth.

He didn’t mean it to sound like no guy would want you, he didn’t mean it at all like that, yet the words coming out of his mouth betrayed him, completely. He doesn’t know how to make it up to you, because if he had given you the chance to go to the parties with him when you asked in your freshman year, many times, and told you yes instead of no, you would have more experiences, you might even have friends. If only he had let you come out of your room at his own parties when you asked him, almost begged him to let you participate, but he declined each time. Then in your sophomore year, you didn’t ask anymore, just accepted that he wasn’t going to tell you anymore about them, and you automatically locked the door whenever he hosted a party.

This year, he tried to invite you, many times. You always declined. You didn’t even want to eat dinner with him, and he knows you want to leave the house as soon as possible thanks to him. Even with your parents. For the past two years he had been so blind because of his father’s approval and the one of all the students in Hawkins High that he didn’t notice how your parents didn’t ask you stuff at dinner. All questions were always directed to him. He noticed this year, and he tried to tell them you had nailed your exams, and the only thing you got from your father was ‘As she should.’

He was the cause of who you were now. Not at all the bubbly and animated girl that asked him to raise her up like an airplane in their backyard, not at all the small girl that put makeup on him pretending she was a stylist, not at all the middle school girl that got excited to see him whenever she got home from school to tell him about what she learned that day.

He walked up the stairs and raised his hand to knock on your door, only to hear soft sobs on the other side, muffled. He wonders if you had also cried when he denied you all those times. He doesn’t know how to even make it up to you. He doesn’t know if he even can.

So the next day, when you didn’t come out of your room, he let you have your alone time. Now on Monday he tried knocking on your door, only to receive the notice that you felt sick. He tried walking in but your door was completely locked. His eyebrows twitched and his mind had come up with a plan. A plan he will terribly hate. A plan that might end up badly for him. But it’s what he deserves for what he did to you.

Billy looked everywhere for you, and even asked Barbara Holland where you could be. She told him that she hadn’t seen her at Science that day either, so his best guess was that you had skipped school. His jaw clenched when he asked other people about you and some of them didn’t even know what you looked like. He waited for the bell to ring, and he was going to tumble Steve down if he had to in order to see you. He didn’t care.

But when he walked out of the school doors to rush to his Camaro, he was surprised to see Steve Harrington sitting on his trunk with his arms crossed. Billy’s eyes hardened at the sight, walking towards him, tilting his head in question at the brown haired boy who was looking at Billy with a mix of emotions behind his eyes.

“Harrington. Get off my fucking car.” He says and Steve gulps as he looks to the side.

“I fucked up.” At that Billy’s eyebrows turned into a frown, but his fists started clenching as Steve kept talking, telling him everything, everything he did to you, and what he had said to you that night when Billy left.

While this was happening, you were combing your hair after the shower you took while sitting on your bed. You had taken a shower because you were greasy from yesterday already, and you really didn't want to get up, but you didn’t have a choice. Ever since Steve said that, you didn’t have the guts to actually call Billy because at some far away place in your mind, it made sense.

You were invisible, and suddenly you were noticed? It doesn’t sound real.

So maybe it wasn’t. Maybe it really was to get into your pants to mess with your brother, and that was honestly the most reasonable explanation for it. You frowned when you heard the door open downstairs, your door was left open so you could hear some drawers being open, to then hear steps coming up the stairs. Your eyes widened when you saw Steve slamming himself against the door frame of your room.

His eye was completely inflamed from a punch received to the face, his nose was bleeding and he was holding some ice covered in a rug to soak the blood in it. From what you could see, his lip was busted as well and his breathing was coming out of his mouth, almost in a pant.

“Steve, what happened?” Even in your hatred for him, seeing him this way made your heart fill with worry, pushing all of the other feelings aside. You were about to rise from the bed until Steve raised his hand up at you.

“I deserved it.” He looked towards the hallway and your eyes widened when you saw Billy coming into view, a pack of frozen peas on his right hand, his eyes glaring at Steve as he passed by him and into your room. His eyes turned to yours and you couldn’t help but look up at him, completely stunned. Steve groans and closes the door for you two as he heads downstairs.

“What… Did you…?” You stutter as you sit back on your bed, seeing Billy’s injured hand as he sat on your bed too, nodding as he looked at you.

“I sure as hell did. Fucker deserved it. He told me everything, from the very beginning, and also what he said to you on Saturday night right after I left.” You feel your face flush with embarrassment and you look down at your hands again. You are not understanding what is going on, nor why Steve would go and tell your life story to Billy. “Though I have to say… Your brother does care for you.” You scoff at that.

“Right. Like he cared for me the past two years.” You reply with venom in your voice and you feel Billy scoot closer to you.

“He knows. He knows what he did to you. Your freshman year was the punch on the eye, your sophomore year was on his lip… And what he said on Saturday was the one on the nose.” He lets out a chuckle and you feel mixed emotions to that. You were happy that he defended your honor, but Steve was still your brother and you didn’t want physical harm to come to him.

“Don’t punch him again… Please.” You slowly looked up at Billy and his blue eyes were already looking at you. Your heart rate picked up the longer he stared at you.

“Do you really believe what he said to you that night?” He asks you, a small worried tone behind his voice. You feel yourself gulp and you look away in embarrassment or nervousness, you no longer know.

“I– After years of feeling this way, it was a very possible scenario.” You say to him in a low voice, your fingers playing with each other. You see him put the bag of peas away, and his hands look for yours. You look down to see his right hand completely bruised up, some skin completely chipped off on his knuckles. You gasp at that and his hold gets stronger on you, making you look up at him. He was closer now, making your breathing get stuck in your throat.

“How can I prove to you that I want you? How can I prove to you that I like you, that I like you very much that I drive myself insane with this fucking feeling, because god knows I am not good with relationships…” For the first time you see a blush come to his cheeks, and his gaze looks down at your connected hands, like how you do when you get nervous. “But I wanna try that with you.”

Your heart leapt out of your mouth almost, not truly believing what was happening, but the bruised knuckles made it more real, the blush on his cheeks made you realize it was no dream at all. This man in front of you wants you, despite it all, and you both have so many broken pieces to pick up inside one another, but you figure that you can help each other. You can mend his heart back, as he can mend yours.

“I think… The first step would be a date…” You say to him almost in a whisper and he chuckles as he looks up at you. He squints slightly at that as if in thought as your smile grows on your face while looking at him.

“I have an idea for it. I think they are showcasing the new Rambo movie.” He says to you with a smirk to his face and your mouth fell open at that, shaking your head.

“I am not watching an action movie on our first date!” He chuckles at that, his face coming closer to yours slowly, and you feel magnetized to him as you both leaned into one another.

“Oh, I bet you prefer the one where the bad boy goes for the intelligent and perfect girl, that genre, right?” You squint at him, pretending to be offended by his words.

“Don’t act like you don’t like those movies Hargrove.” At that he chuckles, his left hand snaking to the back of your neck to pull you closer to him, a soft breath hitting your lips as he talks.

“I might have a thing for romance.” His lips touched yours again, and you smiled through the kiss, your own hands resting on the back of his head to pull him deeper into the kiss, to taste him even better. Your lips moved along with his, taking in eachother’s breaths, bodies coming closer at each second.

“Don’t fuck my sister, I draw the line there. Not today, not with me here.” You both heard Steve’s voice behind the door, making Billy groan in annoyance and pull away from you to glare at the door as the steps could be heard and another door closes down the hallway.

“I am punching him again.” Billy says and you were glaring at the door too.

“My turn.”

A/N: Well shit, I hope you enjoyed. IT TURNED OUT TO BE A ONE SHOT.

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wroteclassicaly · 5 months ago

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Summary: During your shift you overhear a conversation that kind of sends you spiraling.

Warnings: Language, angst, self-esteem issues, hurt with MAJOR comfort, and protective Steve.

Pairings: Steve Harrington x Female Reader

Wordcount: 1,924

A/N: Just a little something, cause’ I’m on my period and feeling it…

You aren’t acting like your usual self - zero pep in your step, no smiles from anything or for anyone. Steve doesn’t expect that from you all of the time, but he can sense something is majorly wrong. You simply give him a whispered hey as you climb into the beemer’s passenger, buckling your seatbelt and lowering your gaze to the small wallet you’d brought with you today. It’s when he leans across the console, leather creaking under his movements, to kiss you - that he is for surely locked in on something being up with you. You’re pulling yourself away from his lips before they can even touch your cheek.

At the start of your relationship, Steve was always doing checklists, to see if you were unnerved about, even the smallest of things (which never had anything to do with him, half the time, as he found out). He tried to go over what he could’ve done wrong, how he needed to fix that. But as the trust with the new stage of your relationship grew, the romance had cemented itself - Steve felt like he had to do this less and less with you. You were a team - secure and honest.

You, however, are caught into the expanse of your head, strangled by those vines that are always undoing themselves from their silence to torment you. Copious, self-negative, berating thoughts that are meant to tear you apart. You manage to see Steve frown in your peripheral, which makes your lips part in an attempt to start your explanation. He’s more than ready to receive.

“Hey, Harrington. You have a few minutes?”

That same sugary, sickly sweet voice from minutes prior. You and your boyfriend both look in time to see her blond hair lean into the window, arms propped, pink lined lips speaking, bangles accentuated on her thin wrists, and the overpowering scent of her fruity perfume. Your chest burns with the nerve of her, throat watering with unshed tears — your body feeling as if it’s slipped a flight of stairs for everyone to witness, see your smoldering humiliation as it crackles across your chest. Old Steve might be cocky, might even be rude. But your best-friend turned boyfriend - he is no longer that way.

“What’s up? Everything okay?” He’s a little hesitant, his focus coming back onto you. His knee juts from his foot bouncing on the floor, eager to leave her over bearing interjection into your conversation. He’s pissed at her and her friend standing idly nearby, as you begin to shut down what you were about to open up to him about.

Her friend giggles from beside her and you audibly swallow, using your pinky to play with the newest charm Steve had added to your bracelet (a little baseball glove, because you’re always ‘catching his heart’). It’s your tell-tale nervous sign, he’s aware. The girl in the window starts talking again before he can say anything. She shows off neon pink talons for nails, pearly whites grinning at Steve. “I just got these done about a half an hour ago. And something is wrong with my car, so I obviously need to pop the hood, but I don’t want to ruin them. Like, you know what I mean?”

The eye roll that leaves you, all emotions aside, Steve is amused by. He reaches for your hand, and you let him squeeze. “Do you mind, baby? I’ll just pop the hood and they can call someone if it needs something else done.”

This makes you feel a little better, the girl having to hide her displeasure underneath her smile, which turns into a smirk as Steve exits the car and follows them to her convertible. She makes a show in her tight tube top and jean shorts, not getting to the hood immediately. You only imagine what they’re saying to Steve. But you do remember what they’ve just said about you.

“I mean, he picks her up daily and I don’t even think she offers him gas money.”

You’d stopped organizing the front candy counter to lean around and listen in. Steve picks you up everyday, never asking for anything return - even if you always offer. They have to mean you, right? Your breath had started quickening, focus wavering. The rush of burgundy is within your sights as he pulls up storefront, shades on, head tilted back, arm out the window with a cigarette in hand.

“He’s dating her though, so why would she?”

“Please. He needs to be asked if he is. I don’t buy it, at all. I mean, Nancy Wheeler was a goody two shoes, but at least she was pretty. Buckley is a fucking motor mouth, but she’s also okay.”

Former insecurities when you got together. Even as a friend as you crushed on him, these thoughts had plagued you. You were heated, body light.

“He never dated Buckley.”

A deep sigh. “Obviously, but he clung to her like a puppy. He’s downgraded with this one. She’s been hanging on him for years and I don’t know if he warrants it or just tolerates it.”

Don’t make any noise, don’t say a word. You should stop listening, say something. All things that you didn’t do, just kept listening to them dump on you.

“She’s the real reason Harrington struck out all the time. WHO the fuck wants to date someone that allows a loser like that to be attached to their hip non-stop? I mean, is it a kind, charitable thing to do? Sure. But he needs to draw a line between the good and the bad, babe.”

Your dress had felt to tight on your body - one you wore to surprise Steve today. Excited to be with him for the weekend, casting aside conflicting schedules. Your face became dull, heartbeat slowing, eyes glossing over. You swore you could taste the acidic bile of breakfast on your tongue.

“She’s been that ugly two for one special, kills all of his chances by hanging around him. The real reason he struck out so much.”

You turn your back to the conversation, despite still having been able to hear it. No use in trying to block it out, for it had found you in surround sound.

“Didn’t he ask you on a date, Chelsea? And you turned him down?”

She scoffed. “My point exactly. She makes him less appealing. He’s just with her because he thinks that he should be, and because she’s the one that’s around him too much. He peaked in high school, but she’s certainly holding that fine ass of his back. Can you imagine the sex he’s wasting on that?”

You’re so caught up in your momentary memories, that you don’t even see Steve as he piles back into the car, his entire body lax, but his shoulders tense. His face holds a reserved softness for you. His voice, though, that takes on an entirely different undertone of mixed meanings - somewhere between a raging anger and a featherlight craving to provide solace. He’s saying something that takes you a few seconds to catch up with, your blurred vision noticeable. It confirms his suspicions that he’d accumulated by being hit on at the girl’s car.

“They came from your store, didn’t they? What did they say to you?” He sighs, trying to let that show, so that you don’t mistake it for annoyance.

“It’s… nothing. I’m okay.“

“Baby…” The way it’s practically pled, it makes you look at him. You meet concerned, slightly widened, mossy eyes, sun reflected in the enriching pools. His grown out caramel hair is a mess, shades pushed back to sit atop, his sun kissed skin visible through his white Kenny G shirt, along with overgrown chest hair, his chain length bracelet and neck chain (a gift from you for his latest birthday), and his ripped jeans he’d cut to make capri shorts.

He definitely shouldn’t be yours.

You reach to fiddle with the chain, that nervous habit back again. And Steve settles into your touch as it drums across his jugular. He tilts his head to kiss to the side of your fingers when they brush by. You pause to retreat, but he’s swift to take your hand in his, playing with your bracelet this time. How massive he looks in comparison.

You feel a calloused finger brush beneath your chin, bringing it up. His eyes are darting back and forth across your face. ��Tell me what they said to you. I know that’s why you’re upset.”

“Were they talking about me?” Immediate humiliation settles in.

He’s quick to correct. “No, no. I just mean that when they started in with the flirting after I opened the hood, I was uncomfortable and I know you were. And I also remember that they did come from the video store, too.”

Your voice breaks and he slides his spare hand to your neck’s nape, bringing your forehead to his as you begin to tell him everything that was said. Safe to say, he’s NOT happy by the time that you’re finished, and he does a double take to look for their car. It’s already gone and he curses. “Shit. That’s fucking bullshit!”

He can’t fathom the process that he went through as you told him each and every single word heard. His tongue is tied, he wants to plead with you to know that it’s not true, that all of those things have NEVER been like that. There’s only one truth. And so, he tries with all his heart to explain it to you.

“God, honey, you have to know that when I’m with you, I don’t see anything else, can’t see anyone else. For years, it’s always just been you. I don’t care about who I was before. The man I am now, he wants his life to be with yours. He’s pretty gone on you, like in a stupid, I’ll almost die for you again, even when you tell me not to - kind of way, and probably more.”

Your heart rate has started speeding up again, caught beneath your breastbone, trying to find your throat, but can’t get through its tightness. You’re openly crying now, to which Steve solves by thumbing away, the bridge of his nose nudging yours, mouth laying his next statement in to cross. “Words, they’re not my strong point, you know that. But I want you to know that I’d learn a fucking dictionary in every single language if it meant I could tell you in better terms, how much you mean to me, how perfect you are, how beautiful, funny, and smart, how sexy, how tough, how loyal, how honest, how creative, how strong, and so much fuckin’ more... How what they said was the farthest thing from the truth, that they’re just jealous, airheaded bimbos.”

You let your palms find his face, the ache in your body causing a prickling in your toes. You’re pliant against his chest as he unbuckles your belt and his, pinching your waist and using his forearm to halfway hoist you middle way over the console to meet his mouth, all the while he’s whispering between every kiss, “I love you. I love you. So fucking much. I love you, honey.”

You don’t have to stop kissing to tell him that you love him back. Steve can feel it in the way that you hold onto him, tears changing, rolling from your cheeks and dripping onto his lips. I love you.

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kitchen-spoon · 3 months ago

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Recently found out the house in the Slipknot duality music video was actually a fans house. they gave the band permission to film their music video there and have a mob of people destroy it.

Now imagine Dustin being a huuuuuge corroded coffin fan and hearing the band is going back to their hometown Hawkins. They are looking for a house to film one of their music videos in. Issue is they want to trash the place and invite all their fans to do it with them. In comes Steve who was given his parents mansion but left Hawkins years ago. The house has been sitting and rotting for almost decade. Naturally Dustin BEGS Steve to let them use his house so Dustin can meet the band and of course do them the honour. After weeks of pestering from Dustin and forced googling by Robin, Steve agrees. And its definitely not because he has a giant crush on the lead guitarist Eddie Munson.

Months later the band come to Hawkins and Dustin’s dreams come true. He, Steve, and Robin all get to be in the video. And once Eddie hears about the circumstances of the house (through some over sharing on Dustin’s part) he insists Steve be the one to at least kick the door in and destroy his old bedroom. Steve is nervous though so Eddie is given the camera and they go alone.

Steve leaves the shoot that day with years of repressed anger and resentment relieved as well as the phone number of a famous rockstar.

Dustin never shuts up about being the reason they are together.

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softmiso · 2 months ago

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suck it and see | eddie munson x reader

🦊 kinktober day 22: deepthroating (ft. eddie and reader's first time together, finger sucking)

🥮 other details: nsfw/18+, ~600 words, realized this could be gn!reader :)

🍁 cross-posted on ao3

“Oh, God,” you gasped at the first sight of Eddie’s cock.

“It’s just me, sweetheart,” he joked.

You looked up from where you were kneeled in front of him, taking him in your hand. Something about the look in your eyes, the feeling of your soft skin against him, halted his joking energy.

Eyes still on him, you sat up a little, mouth hovering over his length. He braced himself, a hand threading itself into your hair. Rather than putting your mouth around him as he’d expected, you pursed your lips and let your spit fall onto his tip. Eddie chuckled in disbelief.

With the added help, you let your hand glide up and down his cock. You went on like this for a tad too long, wanting to rile him up, get him sensitive for what was to come.

“C’mon, baby,” he groaned, “if you keep going, I’m gonna cum like this.”

“We wouldn’t want that, now, would we?” You asked almost mockingly.

Eddie shook his head, gaze still upon you. The look in his eyes was hard to decipher. It was something between desperation and lust—no—greed. He wanted so badly to use your mouth.

And who were you to deny him?

You circled your tongue around his head, tasting the precum that had gathered at the tip, and Eddie’s mouth fell open. Tilting your head, you licked up the side of him, right up a vein that protruded from the supple skin.

“Fu—oh!” He moaned out, taken by surprise when you finally took him into your mouth. You started to bob your head slowly, at a torturous pace, really. You sucked gently on the downward movements, earning a moan from him.

Soon enough, you started to speed up the pace. After a few moments, however, something felt like it was missing. You loved the feeling of his cock in your mouth, but it wasn’t enough. You needed to feel fuller; you needed him deeper.

With that, you took him down, down, down, until he was as deep as possible. You hummed at the feeling of his cock down your throat. It was euphoric, all-consuming. Eddie felt the same, more intensely even, being on the receiving end.

You found a new rhythm, never pulling off too far. You could feel Eddie’s hand tighten in your hair, his hips twitching to buck up. For a moment, you pull off fully, and his eyes widened.

“Use me.”

And back down you went. With that, Eddie’s gaze darkened, and his other hand found its way into your hair. He held your head firmly, pushing down experimentally. You looked up at him, a hand coming up to his hips, silently telling him to move them to his heart’s desire.

Finally, you felt him back where you needed him. He set a good pace, giving you time to breathe every few strokes. Shortly, you’d feel his thrusts become more erratic, his hands trembling where he held you. With every new stroke, his cock hit your throat harder and harder. Tears started to stream from your eyes, and you hummed against him as you had before.

With one more thrust, and a loud groan, he held you down as he came down your throat. You savoured every drop before finally pulling off him gently, so as not to overstimulate him. You both panted slightly, staring into each other’s eyes in awe of what had just taken place.

Eddie’s hand then made its way from the back of your head to your face. His thumb stroked your cheek, gather some of the tears that had fallen earlier. His thumb kept moving, though, now to your lip. Almost instinctively, you took it into your mouth, swirling your tongue around the digit. You saw a glimmer in his eyes.

“You’re amazing, angel.”

*ੈ✩‧₊˚

#stranger things #stranger things one shot #stranger things smut #stranger things fic #eddie munson one shot #eddie munson smut #eddie munson x reader #eddie x reader #eddie smut #kinktober 2024 #kinktober #my fics #softmiso kinktober 2024

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fishfooddude · 10 months ago

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cuddling with dom billy during a rainy night. billy places you on top of him, rubs you out cooing you calling you his good girl. Lots of praise and reader is subby hehe

I hope this is what you had in mind with the request! Took me a while but I did it.

Rainy Nights (18+ MDNI)

Directory

Stranger Things MasterList

You sank into the plush of your mattress that evening, listening to the sound of rain outside your window. You were on the verge of falling asleep when you noticed the bedroom door open. You mumbled to yourself as Billy sat on the edge of the mattress. “You’re already sleepin’, baby?” he questioned as he pulled his shirt off and threw it over to the laundry hamper in the corner, unfortunately missing it. “I was trying to.” you groan as Billy joins you under the thick duvet. He chuckled to himself and reached out to grab your waist.

“You’re so fuckin’ pretty baby.” Billy smiled as he pulled you closer to him. You giggled as he ran a hand up and down your back, “You’re fuckin’ perfect… made just for me.” he groaned, letting his hand lay on your hip. “So kind… and smart…my perfect lil princess.” you blushed, hoping he didn’t notice. Billy sat up and leaned back against the bedframe as he looked down at you, “You wanna be my good girl?” you bit your lip and slowly nodded. “Come here.”

Billy put an arm around your shoulders, “Open your mouth, baby.” Billy whispered against your temple as he peppered kisses to your hairline. You nodded and put your head back, opening your mouth and allowing your tongue to slide out. Billy smirked and spat in your mouth; he marveled at the site before telling you to swallow. You obliged to his pleasure, “There’s my good girl… spread your legs.”

You relaxed into Billy’s side as his fingers slipped into your panties. You sharply inhaled when his thick, calloused fingers started rubbing circles against your clit. “You like that baby?” “Yes, sir.” Billy licked his lips as he allowed his fingers to further explore your pussy. As he ran his fingers through your soft, wet folds, he whispered sweet nothings into your ear.

“B-Billy-” you whined, “Shhh, princess. You’re so wet… just for me…” his other hand slipped under the oversized t-shirt you’d worn to bed that night and went to squeeze one of your breasts, making you moan softly. Billy kissed your temple as he dipped his index and middle finger into your core to collect some of the wetness you’d produced before returning to rub harsher circles against your clit. “Fuck!” you threw your head back, marveling at the sensation. “You gonna cum for me, baby?” you nodded furiously at his question. Billy licked his lips and watched your eyes squeeze close as your hand joined his in your panties. “Billy!” you yelped as you felt a wave of pleasure crash over your body. Billy slowed his fingers to let you ride out your orgasm. “You did so good, baby…” he cooed in your ear as his hand traveled up your body to your hip, “You wanna cum again?”

#billy hargrove #billy hargrove fan fiction #billy hargrove fan fic #billy hargrove imagine #billy hargrove one shot #billy hargrove smut #billy hargrove x reader #stranger things #stranger things fan fcition #stranger things fan fic #stranger things one shot #stranger things imagine #stranger things smut #stranger things x reader

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alloftheimaginesblog · 6 months ago

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first love {e.m}

plot: you were eddie's first love and you never forget your first love.

character: eddie munson x reader

Everyone knew about you. A day never passed without Eddie mentioning you and your name whether it be a passing "(y/n) loved that" or a more in depth conversation about you or a memory but Eddie always spoke about you. You and Eddie were high school sweethearts. You'd been friends for years and everyone thought that you'd eventually end up together and they were right.

Eddie was your first. First boyfriend, first kiss, first love. You were the same for him and everybody knew it.

The way Eddie spoke about you made everyone smile. He spoke so highly of you, always complimenting you and telling the craziest stories. The two of you were the perfect couple; the 'it' couple as they say. The pair of you together were free, no cares in the world and just happy. God, the two of you were just so damn happy.

"Well, where is she?" Dustin asked with that toothy grin after Eddie had finished telling him a story about the time you and him broke into the school and ended up catching two teachers making out, "You're always talking about her but where is she?"

Eddie's face fell and it was in that moment that Dustin knew he'd fucked up.

Around the room, everyone who knew the truth's eyes widened and stared at Dustin then Eddie then Dustin. Eddie's eyes glazed over face unreadable as Dustin frowned and looked around the room, "What?" He asked, "Did I say something I shouldn't have? I was only asking where (y/n) is, you all look like you've seen a ghost- Oh."

With a horror filled expression, Dustin turned to Eddie and his suspicion was confirmed, "Oh fuck," Dustin whispered, "Eddie, I'm so- fuck, man, I didn't know- I'm so sorry-"

Eddie shook his head, swallowing hard and forcing a quick smile, "It's fine." He stood and cleared his throat, "I just need to get some air."

The room was dead silent until Eddie left and then Steve whacked Dustin on the arm, "Dude!"

"Why did none of you freaking tell me his girlfriend is dead?!" Dustin hissed to Nancy and Steve, "You- You made me look like an idiot! Fuck!"

Outside, Eddie was on the hood of his car, pulling a cigarette out of his pocket along with a lighter to light it up. He looked up to the darkening sky as he took a puff and closed his eyes. He liked to imagine you up there with all the legends, partying and singing away, just waiting until it was his turn to come and then you'd party for all eternity with each other. It had been almost two years since he lost you and there wasn't a moment where he didn't think about you. Every single decision Eddie made, every thought he had... it was all connected to you. Eddie had bought his new van based on what he thought you'd say about it. Eddie wore the outfits you bought him or at least modelled himself in similar items of clothing to ones he knew that you liked. You were gone but you truly lived on in Eddie Munson's day to day life.

It was a few minutes later when Eddie was pressing the cigarette into the grass under his boot that Dustin came out, "Hey, kid," Eddie said, glancing over his shoulder at him, "Come, sit."

Dustin awkwardly sat beside Eddie on the hood of the car, he was shit scared and Eddie could tell, "Dude, I'm so-"

"S'alright," Eddie said with a half smile.

"No, Eddie, seriously, I didn't-"

"Dustin," Eddie's voice was louder but he wasn't angry, he was calm. This was probably the calmest Eddie had ever been now that Dustin was thinking about it, "It's alright."

Dustin nodded and released a long breath allowing his shoulders to sag. He was silent for a few seconds before he said it anyway, "I didn't know... I'm really sorry."

The older boy dug around in his pocket before he pulled out two things; a photo and his lighter. He handed them both to Dustin, "There's my girl." The smile on Eddie's face when he looked at your picture said it all, "That's (y/n) and that lighter was (y/n)'s. She carved our initials into it, see?" Dustin flipped the lighter and sure enough, yours and Eddie's initials were carved onto the black metal, "I carry those everywhere I go... so that she's always with me."

"Can- Can I ask what happened?" Dustin handed the picture and lighter back to Eddie.

Eddie shrugged, "I lost her, that's the long and short of it all. Got hit by a drunk driver one night when we were stopped at a red light. She was gone instantly. I..." Eddie sucked in breath and released it, "Sometimes I wish I'd gone that night too." Dustin didn't speak, he just let Eddie talk, "She hadn't wanted to go out, she wanted to stay in but I wanted more beer. Had I not wanted it-"

"It's not your fault, Eddie."

Eddie nodded, staring down at his photo of you, "Would you believe me if I said it makes it easier if I blame me? No use blaming the other driver, he died that night in hospital. He's dead, can't blame a dead man but I can blame me... and if I blame me, it means that I can be better; I can better myself for her, for (y/n)."

"What was she like?" Eddie spoke about you that much that Dustin already had a pretty good idea of what you were like but he wanted to hear it from Eddie in this heartbreakingly raw moment.

Eddie's face stretched into a wide smile, "Henderson, you would've loved her. She was fiery, didn't take anyone's shit. She was funny, could make friends just like that. She loved D&D, she was the one that coined the name Hellfire Club. She was... She would've done great things. She would've loved you."

The pair smiled at one another before Eddie's eyes returned to the sky, "S'alright, Henderson. You didn't know, don't feel bad about it."

Dustin nodded, realising that was Eddie ending the conversation, "You coming back in?" He jumped from the hood of the car and looked expectantly at the older boy.

"In a minute," Eddie sighed, "just gonna chat to my girl for a minute."

"Say hi to her from me."

"Will do."

Dustin gave him a small smile before walking back inside. Eddie's eyes closed as he looked up, "I wish you could meet them all, pretty eyes, Henderson especially. I think he would've loved you almost as much as I do... Ah well, I better go back in. Don't want them thinking I've gone all soft, eh?" He opened his eyes and looked at your picture once more before pressing a gentle kiss to it, "I love you."

#one shot #os #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson one shot #eddie munson #imagine #stranger things imagine #stranger things #stranger things one shot #stranger things reader insert #reader insert

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ghosttotheparty · 2 years ago

Text

saw this prompt @newgrangespirals @steddieas-shegoes; needed to write it but also i kind of derailed it bc my brain has a mind of its own and its focus is steddie so i apologize also on ao3

He’s met with silence.

Eddie supposes Murray Bauman must only ever be met with silence after speaking; he doesn’t seem the type of man to hold an easy, casual conversation. Especially now.

Even Argyle is silent, his fork stalled on its way to his mouth as he looks from Murray to Jonathan, whose face is red, then Nancy, who’s equally flushed.

Eddie looks at the table, his vision blurring. His hands are shaking.

“Murray,” Joyce says in a lethally calm voice. Eddie had forgotten she was here. “Go.”

“What do you mean, go?” Murray says, his voice quieter like he’s starting to sense what he’s just done. “We’re in—“

“Murray,” Joyce snaps. Eddie flinches. His fingers are knotting with the hem of the tablecloth, his food uneaten on his plate. “Go. I will deal with you later.”

There’s a moment of quiet before Murray’s chair scrapes across the uneven tile floor, and his footsteps retreat. And then there’s silence again. Tense, tense silence.

“Steve,” Nancy says quietly, and Eddie looks up at her, glaring even though she hasn’t done anything to him. Jonathan looks at her too, anxious. Joyce sips her water, her hand shaking, and Hopper has his head down, his face hidden in his hands.

“I’m good,” Steve says shortly, and Eddie looks at him, his stomach flipping. Steve is smiling a little, but it’s an awful smile. It doesn’t reach his eyes. He pushes his plate away with a breath like he feels just as sick as Eddie does, and he nods, but he doesn’t look like he’s really here. “I’m…”

“Steve, it— it wasn’t—“

“You told him my name,” Steve snaps, looking at her across the table, his eyes wide. Nancy looks like she’s going to start crying, and Eddie finds that he really doesn’t care if she does. “And you still…”

He laughs. Dryly, humourlessly. Eddie feels like he might throw up.

Steve closes his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose the way he does when he feels a migraine coming on, and he laughs again.

“Steve—“ Jonathan tries to say, but Steve just holds his hands up, shaking his head.

“I’m just…”

He pushes his plate farther away, moving his chair back with a loud scrape, and then he’s leaving too, going upstairs. Eddie watches him go, watches Robin get up to follow him before she deflates, seeing the way Steve gestures for her to stay, to leave him alone. Robin’s hands are shaking, and Eddie can practically feel the anger radiating from her.

The silence is back after a door slams upstairs.

Joyce sets her glass down loudly, and she puts her hands flat on the table next to her plate, taking a deep, shaky breath. Hopper says her name softly, but she holds a hand up, shushing him.

“I have never…” she starts slowly, her voice shaking with anger. “I have never been more disappointed in my life.”

“Mom—”

“Jonathan,” Joyce snaps, fixing a look on him, and he falls quiet. “…I did not raise you to be the other man. And Nancy, I…” She puts her hands on the table again, taking a measured breath before she looks at Nancy. “I am not your mother, but I think I am well within my rights to say I’m disappointed in you, too.”

“Ms Byers—”

“I don’t want to hear a word out of either of you,” Joyce says calmly before she touches her face, rubbing her chin anxiously as she stares at her plate in front of her. Nobody is eating anymore. Eddie still feels sick, but he also feels like he’s blended into the wall, like everybody’s forgotten that he’s here at all. He looks at the table, at the fraying tablecloth that’s clutched in his fingers.

“Unbelievable,” Joyce mutters to herself. “I can’t…” She doesn’t finish the sentence. Nancy takes a shuddering breath. She might be crying.

“Eddie, dude.”

Eddie looks up, his eyes meeting Argyle’s. He’s looking over at Eddie anxiously, his head tilted a little bit, and as they look at each other, the others look at Eddie too. And suddenly he isn’t in the wall, but he’s the centrepiece of the table, the showstopper, the freak.

It’s like they all remember what Murray said at the same time.

“Eddie,” Joyce says, her voice softer than it was a moment ago. Kinder. Eddie looks at her. “Honey, if… if it is true. None of us have any problem with it.”

If it is true.

They all know it is. Eddie can tell just by looking at them that they all know.

He feels so… small. Like he’s fifteen again. Like he’s new in high school, like he’s walking down the hallway and feeling all the stares, the eyes and eyes and eyes looking, watching, analysing, judging. Even though Joyce’s gaze is kind, and Hopper gives him a slight nod when their eyes meet.

Eddie’s chest feels so tight he can’t breathe, each breath shallow and weak, and he’s kind of lightheaded, and he feels fucking nauseous.

“I, uhm.” He clears his throat, his stomach churning, and he untangled his fingers from the tablecloth, taking a sharp breath. “Excuse me,” he says quickly, breathlessly, moving his chair back so fast it tips on the uneven tiles. He feels like he might pass out as he goes upstairs, hearing Argyle say something quietly behind him.

Upstairs feels even quiet than downstairs. Like every room could have an echo.

Eddie finds a room that’s empty except for some cardboard boxes, and he shuts the door behind himself before he goes to the opposite side of the room, closing his eyes as he presses his forehead to the wall. It’s cold.

He’s breathing too fast, and his head feels light, like if his eyes were open his vision would be dark. He wraps his arms around himself tightly, squeezing as he exhales until he wheezes, until there’s nothing in his lungs, and then he inhales as slowly as he can. In, in, in, until he can’t anymore. He holds it. Exhales. Does it all over again.

Until he can breathe without suffocating.

He turns to rest his back on the wall, and he slides down to the floor, closing his eyes and pulling his knees to his chest, exhaling shakily.

He’s never felt like this before.

He feels so… lonely.

He feels almost cold, even though sunlight is streaming through the window, beams of golden light glowing across the floor.

He cries. Even though he tries not to. He can’t help it, and the tears are absorbed by the sleeves of his hoodie.

Steve’s hoodie. Eddie hates that he’s wearing it, even though Steve brought it just for him. Even though Steve specifically made sure he brought a black one, even though it smells like Steve. Eddie hates that Murray noticed that it’s Steve’s.

He stays there for a while. Until the sunlight dims.

He only lifts his head when the door breaks open, and Steve’s voice says, “Eddie?”

Eddie stands quickly, wiping his face and sniffling as Steve finds him and shuts the door behind himself.

“Hey,” Eddie says, his voice wavering. “You okay?”

Steve nods. He doesn’t look like he’s been crying, but his eyes are shining blankly. And Eddie aches.

He doesn’t say anything. He doesn’t really have to. Steve blinks at him, hesitating.

“I kind of already knew,” he says like it’s a question. “I just…” He exhales, swallowing, and Eddie knows he’s talking about Nancy and Jonathan. It. “I, like, convinced myself I didn’t care? That it— it didn’t matter?”

Eddie listens, leaning against the wall, watching Steve push his hair back anxiously.

“I mean— the world was ending, who gives a shit if— if I get cheated on? It’s so fucking stupid.” He doesn’t seem to realize he’s even talking to Eddie. He’s just talking. Saying what he didn’t say downstairs. “But I’m so… Jesus. Hearing it out loud, like— like Murray was fucking proud, like it was funny, I’m just… I don’t know.”

Steve deflates, leaning against the door, looking at Eddie, and his eyes are shining.

“Embarrassed?”

“You don’t have anything to be embarrassed about, Steve,” Eddie says softly. “You didn’t do anything wrong.”

“...I trusted them,” Steve says quietly, weakly.

“You trusted them,” Eddie repeats. “What they did is their fault, Steve, you didn’t do anything wrong. Trusting them wasn’t wrong,” he adds adamantly, watching the way Steve’s eyes shine. “You thought they were— they were trustworthy. You didn’t know they’d do something like that.”

Steve sniffs, looking at the floor. His cheeks are flushed, and Eddie hates himself for thinking he looks beautiful.

“You have every right to feel hurt,” Eddie says gently. Steve looks at him. He swallows. “And to feel angry.”

“What about you?” Steve asks quietly after a moment. Eddie blinks.

“What about me?”

Steve looks at him. His eyes flick back and forth between Eddie’s for a moment, intent and searching before he speaks. His voice is so soft. Kind.

“He just outed you in front of all of us,” he says quietly. “You’re not angry?”

Eddie blinks again.

Steve looks at him so kindly. Eddie likes being looked at like this. Like Steve is listening to him even though he isn’t speaking. And Eddie realizes that Steve just knows, that he doesn’t question it. That he knows how Eddie is feeling, but is waiting for him to say it himself.

Eddie’s lip quivers, and he feels like a child again.

“I…” He hesitates, taking a breath as a wave of nausea washes over him again. Steve just looks at him. “I’ve never come out to anyone,” he says weakly. He doesn’t recognize his own voice. “I’ve never gotten the chance to. My— My dad found some zines in my room when I was fourteen, and I didn’t… I didn’t have to say anything.” His voice is shaking. He’s never told anyone about this, not even Jeff. “The only time I ever heard that man say anything about God was when he was trying to beat the queer out of me,” he says, laughing the way Steve laughed downstairs. Humorless. Almost hysterical. “And he— he called Wayne to tell him everything because he…”

Eddie trails off, squeezing his eyes shut for a moment.

“I told myself no one would ever know when Wayne took me in, but I swear it was like overnight, the whole town knew,” he chokes. “Because of— of my hair, or my clothes, or— or because people associate queerness with evil and— and Satanism, I don’t fucking know, but everyone knew and I…”

He covers his face, his face hot with embarrassment as a sob escapes him, and it feels so stupid to be so upset right now, but Steve just waits patiently, listening and looking at him.

“People keep taking it,” Eddie chokes, his face wet with tears now, looking at Steve desperately. “It’s mine, and people keep taking it from me.”

Steve nods.

And then he’s coming close and wrapping his arms around Eddie, and Eddie is crying into his shoulder, his hands clutching at Steve’s shirt the way they clutched at the tablecloth earlier, his fingers gripping the fabric so tightly his knuckles ache. He’s shaking. But Steve’s hands feel steady as they run over his back, and Eddie wants to die.

Because Murray told them to have sex. And Steve is still here, holding Eddie while he cries, even though he knows Eddie is gay, even though Murray told the whole table that Eddie likes Steve, that it’s so painfully obvious that he likes Steve. That he’s pining, yearning.

Eddie squeezes his eyes shut, pressing his face into Steve’s neck, his shoulders shaking as he sobs, and Steve moves a hand to hold the back of his head, his fingers pressing into Eddie’s curls to cradle his skull. And it’s almost fucking tender, and Eddie doesn’t know how he got here. Or where he’s going to go.

Steve is murmuring to him. Quiet I got yous and It’s okays, his voice breathy and soft in Eddie’s ear. Eddie melts against him, and Steve holds him tightly, swaying with him, rubbing his back and scratching his fingertips over his scalp carefully the way he does when Eddie has nightmares.

Eddie whines into his neck, choking on his breath, and Steve’s arm tightens around his waist like he’s preparing to catch Eddie if he falls.

“I know,” he whispers softly. “It’s not fair.”

Eddie shakes his head.

It’s not fair.

It’s fucking bullshit.

The whole world thinks it knows him better than he knows himself. Even if they’re fucking right. It’s not fair. He’s never gotten to speak for himself, never gotten to really introduce himself.

He aches when he finally stops crying, his fingers relaxing but still holding Steve’s shirt loosely, and his hands are sore. Steve runs his hand through Eddie’s hair. He waits, holding Eddie close even though he isn’t crying anymore, touching him gently, kindly, as Eddie catches his breath.

“You know what I’m angriest at?” Eddie asks softly after a few moments, his voice weak and breaking from his crying. Steve touches his head again.

“What?” Steve whispers.

“...He’s fucking right.”

Steve is quiet. Eddie squeezes his eyes shut as they burn again.

And then Steve is shifting, holding the back of Eddie’s head, and Eddie blinks his eyes open to look at him. Steve looks into his eyes intently, and it’s almost too much, but Eddie can’t look away, his hands tightening on Steve’s shirt.

“About everything?” he whispers softly. Tentatively.

Eddie looks back and forth between his eyes, and he nods.

He feels sick again. He can’t breathe.

Steve’s hand moves to Eddie’s face, and he’s so fucking warm. His thumb brushes over Eddie’s cheek so lightly Eddie can barely feel it. And Steve’s face relaxes, like he’s deflating, as he touches Eddie’s face, as his other hand presses into the small of his back.

“I really fucking hate him,” Steve breathes. His eyes flicker across Eddie’s face, and they linger on Eddie’s mouth. Eddie whispers his name. Steve hesitates, stammering silently for a moment before, “Can you say it?”

Eddie steps back a little, and their hands fall even though they’re still close enough for Eddie to see the green in his eyes.

“...Say what?” he asks hesitantly. Steve looks at him, his eyes shining, and he looks so desperate suddenly.

“Everything,” he says breathlessly. “I wanna hear it from you.”

Eddie’s eyes fill with tears, but Steve looks like he’s begging, and Eddie is weak.

“I’m gay,” he says softly, whispering like he’s worried someone outside might hear. “And I…” He takes a breath. Steve’s eyes look back and forth between Eddie’s like he’s looking for it. “I have, like… a huge fucking crush on you.”

Steve’s eyes drop to Eddie’s mouth like he’s watching his lips form the words. Eddie is trembling. Steve suddenly feels like he’s across the room, like he’s far away even though they’re standing so close.

“I might fucking be in love with you, Steve, I…”

He chokes on his breath, and Steve is touching him again, reaching for his face and wiping away his tears carefully, stepping closer. Eddie’s hands find his waist, and he grips his shirt again.

Steve says his name.

It always sounds so nice in his mouth.

“You don’t– You don’t have to,” Eddie says, trying to tear himself away, closing his eyes as Steve holds his face and wipes his tears. “I know, it’s…”

“Eddie,” Steve whispers, his hands tightening on Eddie’s cheeks, and he’s so close now, their noses almost brushing. “Is it okay if I kiss you?”

Eddie’s eyes widen. He leans back to see Steve clearly, and Steve looks so nervous that Eddie aches.

“Really?” Eddie asks weakly.

“I…” Steve pauses, brushing his thumbs over Eddie’s cheeks and licking his lips, hesitating. “I might be fucking in love with you too,” he whispers.

Eddie closes his eyes, exhaling as Steve strokes his cheeks again. He gasps for breath when Steve’s forehead touches his, his hands tightening on Steve’s shirt before he slides his hands over his waist gently. He can feel the heat of his skin through the fabric.

“Is it okay if I kiss you?” Steve asks again, his breath soft on Eddie’s face.

“Yeah,” he chokes.

Steve’s palms press to Eddie’s cheeks, and Eddie’s hands clutch at Steve’s waist desperately when Steve’s nose nudges his, when their lips brush. He feels like he’s dying.

But Steve kisses him so softly, so sweetly. Holding his face tenderly in his hands and pressing a lingering kiss to his lips before pulling away to look at him, to check, even though Eddie is holding him against himself, even though Eddie’s chin lifts like he’s subconsciously searching for his mouth again.

Eddie’s eyes flutter open, and Steve is smiling at him. It’s such a soft smile, and Eddie forgets everything that’s happened today. Except Steve’s lips on his.

“Please,” he breathes. Begs. Pleads.

Steve kisses him again. One of his hands slides to hold the back of his head again, his fingers threading into Eddie’s curls, and his other shifts down to Eddie’s neck, his fingertips slipping under the hoodie as his thumb brushes over Eddie’s throat so lightly it tickles a little bit. Eddie’s hands press to Steve’s waist and slide to press into the small of his back, and he’s probably wrinkling the fabric of his shirt, but neither of them cares as they tilt their heads, as their lips part.

They pull away to look at each other after a few moments, close enough that they’re sharing breaths as they both breathe hard, as Steve’s fingertips scratch over Eddie’s scalp lightly and Eddie’s eyelids flutter for a second. And then Steve is tilting his head and leaning down to kiss Eddie’s neck, his fingers twisting in his hair to hold him in place, and Eddie is dying, letting out a whimper as his eyes close and his hands reach for Steve’s arms. His fingertips dig into the soft flesh of his upper arms, squeezing as Steve presses a slow kiss under his ear. His mouth is so warm.

Steve kisses him when he lifts his head, and Eddie kisses him back desperately, reaching to wrap his arms around his neck, whining when Steve’s hands find his waist and pull.

Then Steve pushes, reaching up to hold the back of Eddie’s head, and Eddie stumbles back, his fingers tangling in Steve’s hair and tugging when his back hits the wall. Steve’s hand blocks his head from the wall, and Eddie smiles against his mouth, gasping when Steve’s tongue slips across his lip.

“Steve,” he gasps, lightheaded as Steve sucks on his lower lip, as one of his hands slides under the hoodie to touch his skin. His palms are a little rough with calluses, scratching the sensitive scar tissue on Eddie’s waist lightly, and Eddie groans.

Steve pulls away with a gasp, looking at Eddie desperately, frantically, his other hand holding his face. His cheeks are flushed pink, and his lips are shining, and his hair is a mess, and Eddie wantshimwantshimwantshim—

“Do you wanna leave?” Steve asks, his voice rough, and Eddie looks at his mouth, still panting. “I… I don’t wanna see any of them, I just…” He’s breathless too. His hand runs over Eddie’s scarring again almost mindlessly as his thumb brushes his cheek. “Do you wanna go?”

“Yeah,” Eddie breathes.

Steve smiles softly, his eyes shining at him, and he leans in to kiss him one more time, caressing his cheek. (Caressing. Jesus.) Eddie hums, savouring it before they part with a quiet, slick noise that seems to echo in the empty room.

Eddie feels lightheaded again, but he’s smiling like he’s sleepy as Steve shifts his hands to press his chin up, smiling at how pliant Eddie is. Eddie laughs under his breath, his hands holding Steve’s shoulders.

“I’m so fucking… relieved right now,” Eddie whispers, his head falling to rest on the wall behind him. Steve kisses him again before he pulls him close, hugging him tightly.

Eddie buries his face in Steve’s neck, wrapping his arms around him tightly, wanting to jump up and wrap his legs around his waist, to cling to him like a koala, wanting to climb inside him, to be as close as fucking possible. Steve exhales roughly, pushing a hand into Eddie’s hair.

Steve holds his hand as they leave, ignoring the others that are gathered in the living room, even though they’re clearly waiting for the two of them. Eddie lets the door slam shut behind them. Steve drives. Eddie reaches over and puts a hand on his thigh, squeezing gently as he looks out the windows and watches the world go by.

He’s kind of anxious about this, whatever it is. Anxious that he isn’t what Steve thinks he is, what Steve hopes he is, anxious that he isn’t enough for him.

But he’ll try his best, he knows he will. He’ll bring Steve fucking flowers, he’ll write him fucking poems if it makes him smile. He’ll ravish him the way he deserves, touch him the way he likes, tell him every chance he gets how fucking beautiful he is. He’ll kiss him good morning and learn how to make his coffee just right. He’ll memorize the pattern of his moles and name constellations on his skin.

He’ll remind him every single day, as long as Steve lets him have him, what he deserves.

#steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #steddie prompt #steddie one shot #steve harrington one shot #eddie munson one shot #stranger things #stranger things one shot

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dearest-nell · 7 months ago

Text

reality.

s. harrington x reader, 3.2k

summary: steve has fallen in love with his best friend without even realising, and now there's nothing left for him to do but continue to fall. friends to lovers, steve is pathetically in love, gender neutral!reader, mentions of drinking.

a/n: literally can't think about anything else but this little romantic idiot loverman, so here we are. unproofread, sorry!

Steve was not sure when it was that this all became real to him. Time seemed to blur together in flashes of colour and memory. There were so many days with you, so many moments that had changed his life or altered his very being. How many moments could he name that might have been the one to shift delicate sands between you? Your friendship spanned years – wonderful years filled with the warmth of summer sun soaking into your skin on the beach of Lovers Lake, sweaters shared so often between the both of you that even the woollen fabric could not decide who it smelled most like.

He remembered movie nights in the dimness of Hawkins theatre, half empty rows of midnight screenings where your horrified cries over every slasher could be muffled by his shoulder, his arm around your waist, tucking you safely away from every fright around. You were the only person who slept in his bed just to talk, to stay up all night whispering dreams and hopes and secrets. You were full of his secrets, after all, sworn to protect and sworn to keep. He wanted to keep you more than anything else in the world.

Steve couldn’t pinpoint the moment his deep, unwavering affection for you had become something new, something so tenderly romantic that even he himself had been shocked by. He had been in love before, sure, but not like this. Steve Harrington had never considered himself capable of loving another person quite so much. It was greedy, and selfish, and selfless, and all consuming, and so peacefully quiet that he was sure nothing else might ever settle him quite so nicely.

The attraction had always been there, after all. You were ethereal, otherworldly, angelic in a way that Steve was sure no one had ever been before. It didn’t matter what anyone else had said, you were the most beautiful creature to ever grace his life. Even as friends, he knew it. He’d watched you swim in the chlorine mess of his pool clad in nothing but your underwear, leaving Steve swallowing thickly around the unshiftable lump in his throat that seemed to appear just for you. He’d run his hands across your sides in the deep blue of the night, memorising the curve of your hip with trembling hands that ached to hold you tighter. He’d been lost in your eyes so often that sometimes the colour of them was printed on the inside of his eyelids, haunting his dreams with visions of your smile - your hand in his.

He couldn’t name the moment it changed, but he could name the moment he knew. It was an ordinary night by anyone's standards; the kids, now graduating, had rented a VHS of some film he likely should have known the name of. He thought the actors had looked familiar, maybe recognised the hit song on the soundtrack, but the rest seemed a blur to him. He’d been half exhausted from a day at work as it was, and you had promised to take him home early if his social battery began to dwindle. It was incentive enough for him to try, though about 35 minutes into the film, Steve had felt that wave of exhaustion slip over him. He wanted his own bed, wanted the silence and dark of his shitty apartment to swallow him whole. He’d moved to whisper to you, hand squeezing your knee beside him only to discover your quiet, even breaths as his only response. Your head rested so fittingly on his shoulder, one curve perfectly slotted into the other, a soft place for you to land. It wasn’t often that you fell asleep during movies, but Steve knew you were just as exhausted as he was from an even longer work week.

Steve did not look back towards the dingy, yellow hazed television screen even once after he’d spotted you. He was fixated on the gentle peace that had settled across your features, brow line soft, unmarred by worries of the day. He wondered what you were dreaming about, what thoughts and wishes filled your imaginings tonight, and whether he would get to hear about them once you’d woken. It was one thought that had shaken him, though. One that made him stop to think, that lost him to his surroundings entirely, consumed by questions.

Are you dreaming about me, too?

The overwhelming sense of hope was what had alarmed him, hope that perhaps you wanted him, wanted him with you even in your dreams – wanted him just as badly as he seemed to want you. How had he not noticed before? How had he not understood that every moment without you just felt like another moment spent trying to get back to you.

Oh god, it was love. There was nothing else to call it. It was love of a friend and so much more. It was love of a person that Steve hoped never to face life again without. It was a desperation to keep you close that left a tightness in his chest, unmoving and unshakable. There was restraint enough in him that kept him from waking you just to pull you tighter, suddenly so aware of this need that had shadowed so closely at his heels all this time.

He stayed the entire film just so you could sleep right there on his shoulder, undisturbed and so entirely loved.

How he managed to keep it to himself after that was beyond all understanding. Steve didn’t keep secrets, or at least not his own, not from you. How exciting it was to be falling in love like this, and yet all he could think about was how horrific it was that you were none the wiser. Hadn’t you felt it too? That shift between you? It was all he could think about, and it left him twitchy, nervous and bumbling, ungraceful compared to his usual charismatic charm. Though you smiled at him like you always did, watching him as if he were still your most favourite person in all the world, and Steve had never felt more alive.

It was why here, now, all he could do was watch you. Weeks later, still pining, still so incredibly in love with you, he was helpless but to stand by your side, drink in his hand idly sipped just to give him some kind of distractive reprieve, the taste of whisky heavy on his tongue as you watched the band before you. The lights were luminous, flashes of blue and yellow and white swallowing you in their glow, your body swaying contentedly to the rhythm of music he had half forgotten to listen to. He’d been excited to see this band weeks ago, and now all he could do was stare at you.

You’d dressed up; hair styled, body wrapped in fabrics that Steve wanted to run his fingers through. There was glitter on your cheeks that glinted in the neon lights, and if Steve had not seen the cheap packaging himself, then he might have considered it the mark of an angel gracing your skin.

Steve had never wanted to kiss someone so badly in his life.

How he had gotten away with such blatant staring was a mystery, and he chalked it up to the masses of people pressing in closer and closer together as the night went on. No one was watching him, so no one was watching him watch you.

As if triggered by some divine intervention, you turned to smile at him, yelling something about how great the band was, the sound muffled by the buzz of electronics and minute long guitar solos. He nodded back dumbly, his own smile a perfect mirror of your own, a free hand running through his now sweat slick locks.

“So good.” Was all he could yell back, trying to peel his gaze away from your own, his own personal boulder up the hill; an unwinnable battle.

His staring paid off, at least, when he caught the way the masses seemed to close in around you. Your view was more and more obstructed with every new beat, bodies taller and far less considerate than the two of yours huddling in tighter. He watched as the perception crossed your mind and on pure instinct, Steve was pulling you into him, slotting your body into place right before his own. He was wrapped around you like a protective barrier, arm hooked loosely around your waist, hand gripping possessively at your hip, his drink knocked clean out of his hand as the man by his side threw his arms up to the music. He tried not to glare, not for the loss of his drink, but for the way it so easily could have come tumbling down on you. The drink seemed like the least of your worries though. Steve offered you an apologetic grimace only to be met with another of your smiles, the warmth of your regard smoothing out the roughest edges of his trepidations.

Your hand slipped into his, eliciting the softest of sighs from Steve to feel your comforting touch, and he felt his body relax as you pulled his other arm snuggly around you too, your entire body now encased in the safety of his hold. Somehow he knew that you had done this for him, that snuggling yourself in deeper like this was to ease his worries, not your own. He was here protecting you, and somehow here you were, still soothing him without so much as a thought. He wished he understood how you knew him so well, how you seemed to know intrinsically what he needed. It felt foolish to hope that maybe it was for the very same reason that he knew you so well. Maybe this is just how friends are.

This did not feel like friendship, though, not with you pressed so tightly against him, bodies swaying as one to the steady rhythm of the melody around you. Your arms were crossed around yourself, hands gripping onto his forearms as if you could hold him right back. You were holding him, he realised. Holding him as best as you could from the position you were in. You had relaxed entirely into him, head resting back against his shoulder, movements languid and comfortable in his arms, fingers tracing secret scribbles into the goose-prickled flesh of his skin, so reactive to even the smallest of your touches. He wasn’t sure what to do with himself, couldn’t decide where to look or what to say or how to breathe, even. Breathe, Steve, breathe.

“Are you comfy?” You called out, head angling up to catch a glimpse of his expression. Your palm flattened out comfortingly against his arm, and Steve tried not to melt under the tenderness of it.

He nodded, dipping down to speak a little more closely, using the volume of the room as his excuse to allow his lips so close to the plush curve of your cheek. “‘m comfy. Is this okay?”

He squeezed his arms around you once, twice, to emphasise his concern. You inched your face higher, views of one another now more clear as the space between you dissipated, your noses bumping clumsily against one another as the crowd continued to shift around you.

“Yeah, thanks.” If he didn’t know you half as well as he did, Steve might have missed the way your eyes seemed to widen at him, mouth parting imperceptibly as if you were about to continue, words dissolving right at the buzzer.

His brow lifted curiously, nose nudging yours with purpose to ease the words from you. The look you gave in turn was enough to steal the very breath from his lungs, his chest constricting with the nerves that such intensity always seemed to summon in him. You looked pained, somehow, and Steve didn’t miss the way your arms seemed to tighten around his own, leaving his hands to squeeze at your sides reassuringly, one slipping its way to cup at your jaw. The wide of his palm engulfed your cheek, his rough, calloused, fingers stroking soothing circles into the curve of your skin, holding your gaze to him.

“What’s wrong?” He mouthed, not wishing to raise his voice when you were pressed so closely to him. He was preparing to pull you away at a moment's notice, to flee the crowd and tuck you somewhere safe in some dark corner of the room to catch your breath. He knew something was wrong, could feel the weight of some unspoken thought pressing down on you. He’d steal it if he could, take it on as his own so you could smile again. It had only been a minute and he was already aching to see it once more.

It all seemed to move in slow motion for him – time slowed to a standstill as the room seemed to fade away. There wasn’t anyone here but you, but him, standing here in this crowded empty space, looking at no one but each other. He watched you tug your lip between your teeth, one moment of contemplation that had him second guessing everything before you moved, lifting up onto the tips of your toes to reach him, his arms tightening again to keep you steady.

Your eyes flickered, shifting nervously between his eyes and his lips, and Steve felt his own part as the surprise of your boldness hit him. You wanted to kiss him. You wanted to kiss him and this was your way of showing it. He could see the way you tried to inch closer, watching through hooded eyes as you evaluated his reaction, drifting somewhere between closer and further with every breath.

No one could blame him for his eagerness, not really. Not when you were looking at him like it would kill you not to kiss him, not when he felt so entirely needed, so entirely worthy of this moment. He brushed his hand at your cheek, nudging forward slowly, his eyes imploring as he watched, waited to know that this was really what you wanted.

You just smiled up at him, and Steve might have died right there to know that he was the reason why.

Steve’s focused remained heavily on his movements, head lost somewhere in the necessity that he needed to kiss you right. He felt like his very happiness relied on it – like he would die right here, right now, if you did not know just how much he wanted you. Needed you.

He moved unhurriedly, lips tracing so softly against your own that he thought he might be dreaming. There was no conceivable way that a person could be so delicate in his hold, so plush and divine and perfect. It was a moment out of time, kissing you like this amongst the ever constricting crowds, the violent noise of a band crescendoing around you all the while.

And you were kissing him too.

He could taste it in your touch, the eagerness, the way you tried to reach further, twisting in his arms to fit closer to him. He wished he could swallow his grin, helplessly amused by that gentle desperation in you – how could he not smile over the neediness in your touch? You tried to speed up the kiss, to grip him tighter, one hand curled into the fabric of his shirt, the other tugging him down by his hair.

His groan was involuntary, and his purchase at your face was all he had to usher you, slow fingers coaxing you back into a relaxed state, pulling himself back to look at you with desperate eyes.

He had no words, nothing that he could say that could convey the meaning of this moment, nor the depths of his feelings for it. He could see that glaze in your eyes, feel the way you swayed on the tips of your toes as your balance betrayed you. He didn’t mind – it was his excuse to tug you all the closer, setting the pace once more as his lips slotted against your own.

He felt your sigh rather than heard it, could feel the way your muscles relaxed under the press of his hand at your back. It was a sick sort of pleasure that flooded him, pride taking over to know that he had this effect – this power over you. If only you knew how much more you had over him, how he’d do almost anything you could ask of him just to keep you here.

A knock from a burly looking man was what it took to break the kiss, and Steve might have been thankful had he not almost dropped the two of you in a brief lapse of balance, his head turning venomously to glare at the man who Steve certainly could not take in a fight. He might really have gotten his ass kicked there and then over his petulance, a child raging over his favourite treat being ripped from his hands. Was it so much for him to want this moment to be perfect? He wanted 5 minutes to enjoy it, to kiss you senseless, to solidify that this would not be the only time to do so.

Thank god for you, really, to remind him that he was still in the moment. Your hands at his face tugged him away from his anger, focusing his attention back on you, your own amused smile soothing away that spike of rage that had stolen his attention so briefly. You dipped up, pecking his lips so suddenly that all he could do was stare. He felt like an idiot, and maybe it was because he was one. He was a fool in love, and perhaps now you were starting to see it.

“Lets go.” You urged, thumbs circling at his cheeks, the adrenaline in his body dissipating into something peaceful at the tenderness of your touch.

He nodded dumbly, not a moment wasted considering anything else in the room but you. Who could have possibly cared that the show was only half finished, that neither of you had heard your favourite songs yet, that you had been dying to try the specialty cocktail of the night that was plastered across posters behind the bar, when Steve could be the one to take you home? Fuck literally anything else here because your hand was easing its way into his own, and his cheeks were sure to ache at the strain of his smile on his face as he shouldered his way through the crowd, parting bodies to ease the two of you through the masses, and nothing could have been more important to him in that moment, or any other moment to come, than you.

Forget it all, because Steve was going to kiss you again as soon as the night air broke around the two of you, and by the way you clung so tightly to the back of him, he’d never been so assured that you were just as pleased by the notion as he was.

Steve could not remember the moment his feelings for you had become real to him, but he’d never forget the moment yours had.

629 notes · View notes

scarletsknight · 5 months ago

Text

f*ck me like you’re famous

wc: 3.3k

pairing: eddie x fem!reader

synopsis: the man everyone wants only wants you

cw: 18+ mdni!!, rockstar!eddie, non canon au, smut, use of marijuana, mentions of alcohol consumption, established relationship, pet names, teasing, eddie's rings (y’all alr know), choking, fingering, oral sex (giving/receiving), orgasm denial, praising, hair pulling, reader has an oral fixation (lowkey), multiple orgasms, mirror sex (not really but kinda), lil bit of possessiveness, overuse of the word fuck, marking, sex while under the influence, unprotected sex, aftercare, fluff?

a/n: this has been sitting in my drafts since my first acc got snipped and just never reposted 😭 but i lowkey wanna get back into writing for this account. pls don’t come for me if i don’t follow through tho life is just fucking crazy rn but i miss this blog and i miss you guys so i’ll try. but until then i hope y’all enjoy this!! 🫶🏽

Eddie wasn't expecting much difference when Corroded Coffin started playing at the Hideout on Fridays instead of Tuesdays. But the crowd more than quadrupled in size, and it seemed to keep growing every week they came back.

In the middle of one of their songs, Eddie spotted you not too far from the small stage.

You had been fixated on the band's lead guitarist since you got here, barely taking your eyes from him as he expertly moved his fingers over the strings of his instrument.

This is what Eddie's always wanted; playing for an actual crowd of people and not just five drunks. But now, as he hears the cheers and sees everyone headbanging along to the music, a dream he's had for so long, all he can do is focus on you.

After their set was over, Eddie was surprisingly quick to start loading their things into his van.

Eddie was getting no help from his bandmates as they were distracted by the group of girls that had come up and started talking to them. One of them even tried flirting with Eddie, but he quickly excuses himself once he finds you again, smoking.

He weaves his way past the people crowding the alleyway behind the bar, walking through clouds of smoke.

With your back turned to him, you didn't see him coming as you were in the middle of a conversation with your friends, passing a joint around.

Eddie's eyes slowly drank you in as he approached you.

To say you look good would be an understatement. Not that Eddie would ever think otherwise, but it was something about the fitting leather pants you were wearing that he was slowly growing obsessed with.

You feel two hands on your hips, and your back meets his chest. Eddie snakes his arms around you.

Resting your head against Eddie's shoulder, you turn your head to face him.

"My love," you lazily grin at him.

"Hi, angel," Eddie cupped your jaw and brought your lips to his. He could taste the faint traces of alcohol on your tongue and the smoke your lips still tasted of.

The friends you arrived with all commended Eddie and his band for their performance before you added onto the praises.

"You guys were fucking amazing," you tell him.

"You really think so?" he asks.

You turn your body toward him, wrapping your arms around his neck.

"Yeah, of course," you nod, "And I could tell your little groupies thought so too," you said.

Eddie scoffed, "Groupies? I don't have groupies."

"I beg to differ," you say. Eddie follows your eyes, looking at the same girl from earlier, watching you and Eddie, seeming a little mad that someone else has their hands all over him. But you don't give a shit; Eddie was yours first.

"You jealous?" he teases.

"Never. You're so fucking hot," you tangle your fingers in his hair pulling him closer as if there was any space left between you, "And I don't know, I kinda loved watching everyone go crazy over you, knowing you're gonna fuck my brains out later."

Eddie backed you up against the side of your friend's car, deepening the kiss as he held your face.

"Keep talking and looking at me like that, I'll take you right here," he threatens, and you laugh.

Eddie slid his leg between yours, making you hum against his lips, and you felt his thighs come into contact with your core.

"Eddie," you murmur. From the look in your eyes, he could already tell what you were thinking.

"Wanna get out of here?"

"Do you really have to ask?" you smirk.

You bid your friends goodbye, Eddie thanking all of them for coming and letting them know when and where Corroded Coffin is playing next. Walking to his van, hand in hand, Eddie opens the passenger side door for you after you said your byes to the rest of the band.

Eddie kept one hand on the wheel while the other rested on your thigh. Briefly looking over at you, Eddie feels his chest swell. He watches you roll a joint for him, not wanting to waste any time once you get home, and he couldn't be more in love.

Watching your face twist up in concentration as you wrap the paper around the bud, using the skills he taught you, only made something stir inside Eddie. His hand on your leg started inching higher and higher, firmly squeezing your thigh.

"Babe, don't start. I'm tryna concentrate," you said, rolling the paper between your fingers.

"Can't help it when you're the hottest girlfriend on the planet," he grins.

You glance over at him out of the corner of your eye. "Just shut up and keep your eyes on the road, Munson," you said.

But Eddie didn't miss the smile that stretched across your face from his words.

Once Eddie was parked, he hopped out of the van with the freshly rolled joint between his lips, still unlit. He was humming one of Corroded Coffin's songs as he waited for you with his held hand out for you to take as you got out of the van.

Knowing the whole place was empty, Eddie loudly sang as the two of you slow danced into his trailer. Eddie, dramatically swaying and spinning you around, had giggles spilling from your mouth as you made your way to his room.

Taking off his shoes and jacket, Eddie swipes a lighter from his desk before sitting at the edge of his bed and sparking the joint.

Eddie hummed delightedly as thick clouds of smoke entered his lungs. He fell back onto his bed, staring up at his ceiling, taking another drag.

Having gotten distracted by your boyfriend's immense music collection, not knowing what to put on, you finally make your way over to him.

Eddie feels the bed sink on either side of his legs as you climb on top of him. He rests one hand on your hip while he smokes with the other.

You pluck the joint out of his mouth, bringing the filter to your lips and taking a hit for yourself.

Both his hands are on you now, moving up to your waist. You readjust yourself in his lap, and you hear Eddie sigh. You start subtly dragging your hips against his as you expel the smoke through your nose.

Eddie looked up at you like you were a goddess he was more than ready to worship.

"God, you're so fucking perfect," Eddie said, "And all mine."

You would've clenched your thighs together if Eddie's body wasn't between them. You leaned down, grabbing Eddie's jaw and bringing his lips closer to yours. Eddie parted his lips as you blew the smoke into his mouth.

"And you're mine," you whisper, kissing his face.

You both sit up, your lips still connected to his.

"You know that I love you," he stared up at you, his big brown eyes drowning in adoration for you.

"I know," you lean your forehead against his, "I love you too," you tell him before pressing your lips to his.

"Ever since high school. The moment you walked into O'Donnell's class 30 minutes late wearing that goddamn skirt," Eddie slides his hands up your thighs.

You hum into his mouth, kissing him deeply.

"Just promise you won't forget me when you guys become famous," you joke.

"I would never," he says, "You think I'm crazy enough to give this pussy up."

"I hate you," you giggle against his lips.

"Didn't you just say you love me?"

"Yeah, well I change my mind and take it back," you teasingly say, getting out of his lap.

You turn your back to him, but Eddie doesn't let you get too far before he's on his feet too, wrapping his arms around you. Laughs spill from your lips as he holds you against his chest, burying his face into your neck.

"Tell me you love me," he said lowly in your ear, the raspiness of his voice causing slick to pool between your legs.

"No," you said like a moody child.

"Come on, sweetheart, just tell me."

Eddie's fingers found the buttons on your pants, starting to undo them. You wiggle your hips a little assisting Eddie in getting the leather down your legs. He slipped one of his hands between your thighs, stroking your clothed heat.

If Eddie's arm wasn't wrapped around your middle, your knees would've buckled. Between being high and having been incredibly horny for your boyfriend all night, you were extremely sensitive to his touch.

"Let me hear it," he rasps in your ear.

"Eddie," you let your head fall back against his shoulder.

"Mhm?" he hums into your neck.

"I-" the words die on your tongue when he slips his hand into your underwear.

You whimper, feeling the cool metal of his rings against your warm skin. He runs his fingers through your folds, letting your slick coat his digits, purposely neglecting your clit.

"All this for a man you hate?" he scoffs.

You whine, squirming in his arms, trying to move your hips against his hand. But Eddie's strength doesn't allow for it.

"Tell me you love me and I'll give you anything, baby."

You quickly drop the act, falling deeper into this headspace, desperate for Eddie to do anything.

"I love you, Eddie."

"See? That wasn't so hard, now, was it."

He kisses your cheek, starting to rub small circles on your clit. You practically melt against his body, and he falls back onto his bed with you between his legs. You turn your head to capture Eddie's lips in a kiss. At the same time, you're lifting your hips and pulling your underwear off, carelessly letting the piece of fabric hang from your ankle.

Eddie grabs your thighs, keeping them apart. He brings his hand back down to your pussy, lazily playing with your clit.

"Look at you, baby," you follow Eddie's eyes to the mirror by his bed. The sight of you between his legs as he toyed with your clit should've flooded you with embarrassment, but you were already too far gone to care. "So fucking beautiful." he kissed your temple.

"Eds," you start squirming.

"Yeah, sweetheart?"

"Please," you grabbed his wrist, directing his hand where you really needed him.

"So so wet," the tip of his finger teasingly circled your hole before slipping inside you, "And so fucking tight." he then added a second.

You braced yourself with your hands on Eddie's thighs, your nails scratching the denim of his jeans.

"That feel good, baby?"

"Y-Yes. So good."

Eddie pressed his lips to yours as he found a steady rhythm for his fingers. He pushes his tongue into your mouth, and you moan around the wet muscle as he curls his fingers against your soft walls.

"Oh god, Eddie—please," you tell him.

Your legs threatened to close around his hand before he pulled them apart with his other hand. The same hand trails up your body, cupping your boob over your shirt, feeling your perky nipple beneath the material since you opted for no bra tonight. He tweaked the sensitive nub between his fingers, causing you to gasp and your pussy to flutter around his fingers.

"Fuck-m'gonna cum."

"Yeah? you wanna cum all over my fingers, pretty girl?"

"Yes! please please l-"

You let out a broken cry, feeling your orgasm being so abruptly ripped away. You heard Eddie laugh as your hips tried to chase his hand before he left you untouched.

"That's what you get for acting like a brat," he said.

That teasing little fucker.

Turning yourself around to face him, Eddie sees the pout on your face before it's taken over by a smirk.

"I'm sorry, baby," you slowly let your fingers trail down his chest, "let me make it up to you," you fluttered your lashes at him.

Eddie grinned as your hand reached the front of his jeans, palming his semi hard on through his clothes.

He pulled his shirt over his head, flinging it somewhere in the room. You quickly undo his jeans, slipping your hand inside his boxers and beginning to stroke his length.

"Fuck, princess," Eddie groans when you squeeze your fist around him.

You started pulling his jeans off along with his underwear, and Eddie kicked them off his legs the rest of the way. You positioned yourself between his legs, circling your thumb around the tip, smearing the beads of precum all over his cock.

You look up at him through your lashes before you take him into your mouth. You start slow, only sucking on the head, letting the salty precum land on your tongue while you wrap your hand around the base of his cock.

"That's it, sweetheart. Just like that," Eddie sighs, stroking the back of your head as you take more of him into your mouth.

Whether it was your high or just your infatuation with this man, you couldn't get enough of the feeling of Eddie in your mouth. The weight of his cock on your tongue and his breathy moans were enough to have you pressing your thighs together.

You run your tongue along the underside of his cock, coating his length in your saliva. Eddie ran a hand through his hair, brushing his bangs out of his eyes as if he didn't want to miss a thing. Even with tears in your eyes and spit pooling out of the corners of your mouth, Eddie still couldn't take his eyes off you.

The muscles in Eddie's stomach contracted as he started to roll his hips against your face. You slowly started taking more of him into your mouth, focusing on breathing through your nose as you relax your throat for Eddie. You didn't care about the limits of your gag reflex, taking Eddie's dick deeper down your throat.

Eddie tangled his fingers in your hair, pulling you off him. You whine, not just from the pleasurable pain throbbing from your scalp but the loss of his cock in your mouth.

"Shit, you almost made me cum," he said, shallowly breathing.

"So why didn't you?" you ask, ready to slide him back into your mouth.

Eddie's hold on your hair tightens as he holds you where he wants you.

He smiles as you weakly moan, "Cause as much as I love watching you take me down that pretty little throat of yours, I really need to fuck you."

You moan again, but this time at his words.

"Please fuck me, Eddie," you didn't care how desperate you sounded. "Please."

"I know, angel, I know."

Once every piece of clothing was discarded, your teeth clashed with his in a heated kiss. He pushed his tongue into your mouth, easily dominating the kiss. Your head met the pillows as Eddie's laid you down. He took his place between your legs, looking down at you.

Your eyes travel down Eddie's body, studying the ink littered all over his skin like you haven't hundreds of times before.

The muscles in his arm flexed as he pumped his cock in his hand, and you wanted desperately to squeeze your thighs together.

"How bad do you want it?"

"I want you so fucking badly, Eddie. Been thinking about having you all night. It was hard not thinking about getting up on that stage and letting you have your way with me in front of everyone, so they know who you belong to."

Eddie raises an eyebrow at you before you shrug.

"I told you, not jealous. Maybe just a little possessive."

"That's even hotter," Eddie tells you, "You're mine just as much as I'm yours," you felt his cockhead nudging into your entrance.

"Yours...Mine," you moan out the word as he slides into you.

You thought the feeling of Eddie inside of you, filling you up, would make you delirious.

"Fuck, baby, you feel so good."

"Eddie~"

Eddie started moving slowly, only rocking his hips into yours steadily.

Eddie knew you as well as the back of his hand. From every movement you make to the noises that spill from your lips, it's like he could tell what you wanted without vocalizing it.

He circled his arms under your legs, your calves resting on his shoulders.

"Yes—my fucking god, Eddie," you buried your head into the pillows.

You reach out to him, your nails leaving crescent-shaped indents in his skin as he folds you over, pressing your knees to your chest. Eddie's cock deliciously stretched your walls, feeling him so deep you were sure he was in your guts.

Eddie dropped your legs from his shoulders to kiss you. He swallowed your moans, sucking your bottom lip between his teeth.

"You're so fucking wet," he groans against your lips.

"You feel so good," you whimper.

Sitting back on his haunches, he spreads your legs wider, mesmerized by the way his cock disappears inside you.

His cock twitches against your soft walls, seeing you fucked out beneath him. Your tits bounce with every one of his movements. Goosebumps rose on your skin from his rings as he slid his hand up your torso. He didn't miss the chance to tease you, rolling and pinching one of your nipples between his fingers.

You grab Eddie's wrist, silently telling him what you want as you bring his hand to your neck. Eddie wraps his fingers around your throat, applying pressure to the sides, sure to not crush your windpipe.

Your eyes rolled back, and Eddie could feel your pussy pulsing around him. Feeling the stainless steel digging into your skin added to the euphoria coursing through your veins.

Eddie saw the smile etched onto your face as he pounded into you and thought he couldn't be more in love.

"Shit, angel, I don't know if I'm gonna last any longer."

"Please don't stop. I'm so close."

"You gonna cum for me, sweetheart?"

"Yes...Please, Eddie."

"I want you to cum with me," Eddie's hand finds its way between you, rubbing uncoordinated circles on your clit.

All you could do was weakly nod at him.

The music was barely heard over the sounds of your moans and heavy breaths with the obscene squelching coming from where your bodies connected. You blink your eyes to refocus on the man above you. Eddie's messy hair clung to his forehead and neck from the thin layer of sweat covering his skin. The guitar pick he has on the small chain around his neck dangles above your face, and you slightly tug on it to bring him back down and meet his lips with yours.

"I fucking love you," you said to Eddie as you came.

Eddie couldn't hold off any longer, cumming after you said those words to him. His cum painted your walls white, slowly thrusting into you as your pussy milked his cock.

"Fuck, I love you too," he mumbled into your mouth.

You lazily made out, the both of you taking your time to come down from your highs.

Eddie finally moved from between your legs, and you could already feel his cum start to spill out of you.

"Don't move," he tells you.

"Like I have a choice. Unless you want another addition to the collection of stains."

"Like you aren't responsible for half the stains on this bed."

You gasp dramatically, "And whose fault is that!?"

Eddie laughed, picking up his boxers from the pile of clothes on the floor before leaving the room. He came back shortly with a damp washcloth and took his place back between your legs.

You saw Eddie lick his lips as he stared at your pussy, messy with his cum.

"Baby, the sheets," you remind him.

"Right," he snapped out of his thoughts, "It's kinda hot, though," he said with a smirk, wiping your sticky skin.

"You're so gross," you shake your head.

"But you love it," he grins.

a/n: feedback is appreciated!! thank you for reading <33

564 notes · View notes

theemporium · 2 years ago

Note

🥺👉👈

Best friend Eddie has had a *thing* for reader since middle school. But is worried to go for it (reader is sweet, smart, and funny. Probably would be popular if she didn't spend so much time with the "freaks".) So he'll take any little bit of affection he can get from her.

(I think we've all seen from the show and the interviews that JQ's love language is touch.)

Maybe Eddie starts hugging her and holding her a lot until one day at lunch he puts his hand on her knee and she moves it onto her thigh under her skirt (?).

You can take it from there 😂 that's the extent of my genius.

thank you for requesting!🖤

part two

Eddie Munson had always been an affectionate and touchy guy.

You had been friends with him for many years and it was an undeniable fact the boy loved to show his affection through physical touch. Whether it was an arm thrown over the shoulders of the younger boys in the club as they make their way to the classroom to start the latest campaign, or whether it was knocking shoulders and excitedly hugging his bandmates when they make a breakthrough on a song they had been working on.

Eddie was an affectionate guy and that treatment was extended to you too.

It also just happened that he had a massive fucking crush on you and felt like his heart was going to burst through his chest every time he touched you.

It had been a normal Thursday. Classes had been long and torturous, but Eddie was practically bouncing in his seat to head towards the cafeteria for lunch. When he walked into the room, he saw you sitting in your usual seat—the one right next to him at the head of the table.

It was difficult to wipe the grin off his face as he made his way towards the table, slumping down into his seat and not even wasting a moment before he was gripping the back of your chair, dragging you close enough until your thighs were pressed together. He did this every day but something about you liked the way your heart skipped when he pulled you closer.

It baffled Eddie why you always sat with them. You weren’t in Hellfire, not really. You never played but you enjoyed listening to them rant and ramble about it. You had other friends you could have sat with, ones that wouldn’t have made you seem as though you were a ‘freak’ along with the rest of them. But despite Eddie’s insistence that he wouldn’t be offended if you sat somewhere else, you still chose the seat right next to him—to make your own point.

You were very happy and content where you were, settled under Eddie’s arm with your head resting against his shoulder as he continued to discuss the latest campaign with the other boys. You smiled softly, watching how excited and animated they got and the way Eddie’s face glistened in pride at how much they loved his campaign.

But then your thoughts started to wander and you felt something warm just above your knee, your eyes darting down to see Eddie subconsciously place his hand on your thigh and gently stroke the skin exposed by your skirt.

You pressed your lips together, not saying anything. You didn’t want him to move his hand, maybe because you weren’t sure Eddie saw you as anything but a best friend. And with this—with this, you could pretend it was something more.

Then his hand moved up a little, the movement almost a little hesitant like he was waiting for you to push it back down.

But you didn’t.

You waited for him to shift higher but it stayed firmly where it was, a couple of inches below the hem of your skirt. Your eyes darted up, seeing the boys still screaming and yelling at each other across the table and lost in their own conversation. You stole a quick glance at Eddie, finding his eyes firmly stuck on the boys but the hint of a smirk on his lips gave you another idea.

Your fingers slowly wrapped around his wrist, giving it a soft squeeze before you began to guide his hand higher up your thigh. It inched closer and closer until—

Eddie cleared his throat when you pushed his hand under your skirt, your thighs clenching together to trap his hand there. He pressed his lips together, forcing himself to keep his face neutral as though blood wasn’t roaring in his ears and going straight down to his cock.

Your legs parted a little, just enough for him to move his fingers once again. You kept your gaze anywhere but your lap, the heat rushing to your cheeks warning enough that you would instantly blow your cover if you saw the sight of his hand between your legs.

Eddie’s fingers slowly crawled further up your leg, his fingertips teasing your clothed cunt. You let out a small gasp, quickly covering it up with a cough as you felt his fingers press more firmly against your panties.

You nuzzled yourself against his side, the action not uncommon and, therefore, ignored by the rest of the group. Your face was practically pressed against the fabric of his jacket, muffling the small sounds that left your lips as his fingers grazed up and down your cunt—the touch too light but enough to make you squirm.

Nobody even questioned it when Eddie ducked his head down, his lips pressed against your ear and his warm breath fanned across your skin.

“You’re so wet, baby,” he muttered, his voice low enough that only you could hear him. “And I’ve barely even touched you.”

“Eddie,” you breathed out.

“I didn’t know you liked this kinda stuff, sweetheart,” he murmured, his fingers pushing against your clothed clit as you fought the urge to squirm. “Letting me do this to you when anybody could see.”

“Shit,” you hissed, the fabric of your panties soaked.

“Who knew my best friend was such a slut,” he cooed softly.

“Eds,” you whined slightly, your cheeks flushing when you felt his thumb press slow circles on your clit.

“Or maybe you’re just a slut f’me,” he teased, grinning a little when you nodded your head. “A shame, baby.”

Before you could even process his words or the way your stomach twisted in delight at his words, he was pulling his hand away and resting his hands on the table like nothing happened.

You gaped at him, your panties now soaked and your body desperate to feel his touch again but the boy just shot you a look.

“Later,” he said, eyes darkening a little when he noticed the way your thighs clenched together. “Keep ‘em on all day and you’ll get a reward later, in my van.”

You bit your bottom lip.

His lips grew into a smirk. “Gonna make sure that pretty little skirt of yours is fucking ruined, sweetheart, don’t worry.”

And then he returned to the conversation about his campaign like nothing was wrong.

#eddie munson #stranger things #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson fic #eddie munson oneshot #eddie munson smut #stranger things x reader #stranger things x you #stranger things x y/n #stranger things fic #stranger things one shot #stranger things smut

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wroteclassicaly · 4 months ago

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Daddy Steve

(Steve Harrington x Female Reader)

Summary: Steve finds out you’re pregnant.

Warnings: Language, hurt/comfort, best-friends to lovers, Daddy!Steve, mentions loss of virginity, alludes to smut, nausea, throwing up, and pregnancy stuff.

Pairings: Steve Harrington x Female Reader

A/N: Ever since that Daddy Steve comment in season three, my brain can’t get a breeding kink addicted Steve outta my filthy ass head! And thus, I bring you more trash that you didn’t ask for, lol!! I might do a part two with smut?? Enjoy! - Kristen <3

“C’mon, you love this stuff, honey,” Steve mumbles around a mouthful of buttery popcorn.

You’re smashed between him and your shared best-friend, Robin Buckley—on the sofa, watching some newly released horror film that went straight to video, and right into Steve’s VCR. You have to fight everything inside of you not to gag on the smell of popped kernels, urges to inhale, an automatic reflex that only serves to make your predicament worse. Robin wrinkles her nose in distaste, reaching across you and shoving his wrist away.

“Because having greasy ass butter on your chin is really encouraging her to try it out, Harrington.”

“Mhm,” You say, a half whimper slipping out. Your stomach rolls, making you automatically grip onto your baggy denim over shirt, the small swelling of your tummy a comfort.

Fuck the morning sickness… when did this start happening?

Robin’s eyes glance at you with a pitying worry, raising a brow in silent communication. You shake your head, giving her an ‘I’m fine’ signal, dodging Steve’s last classic film snack advance. When you catch sight of his tongue working to clean off his mouth’s corner, that ache teeters between your thighs, a rush of words tumbling off your lips.

“I have to go pee.” You scramble from the couch, nearly tripping over worn converse in the process.

And, as it turns out, your excuse is an even more idiotic thing to say. Steve’s voice halts you in your footfalls.

“Again? That’s like, the fifth time in an hour. And unless you’re chugging from some secret flask, I haven’t seen you drink much of anything, either.”

“I…”

“Dude, do not ever question a woman again about her bathroom habits, okay?” Robin interjects, giving him the Robin look.

“If she’s on her period she can just tell us that. You think I give a crap? We’re all friends here.” Steve shrugs a shoulder, tossing the empty popcorn bag down and ducking his salty fingers into his mouth with a delectable ‘pop’.

You’re momentarily lost within the realm of your raging hormones. Your doctor had told you to expect fluctuating moods, surprising shifts in your appetite; sexually, emotionally, physically, and nutrition wise. That explains why you’re always stealing Dustin’s sour candy and eating spoonfuls of peanut butter at 3:00 AM, crying at reruns of Cheers, and currently ogling your best-friend like he’s always been yours, and isn’t currently pining for someone else. Steve isn’t yours, despite what he’s put inside of you after one needy night together. His dark irises suddenly find you gawking, leaving him confused.

The way his nose is shaped, his jawline structure, that delicious neck he permitted you to mark at one point, that gorgeously soft hair you spent all night pulling, to that sinfully beautiful mouth—you’re speechless and very overwhelmed.

I need him…

He starts to move, but you hold up a hand. That would be sensory overload. “I should definitely go home after. I’ve got an early shift at the store tomorrow.” You lie.

“After what? Peeing?” Steve laughs.

Another ever changing hormone snaps your irritation, causing you to roll your eyes, desire lightly dissipating. “Obviously. That cool with you, King Harrington? Or do you need to further bore me with your pathetic excuse for a movie pick?”

Robin starts to edge back from Steve, his own anger at your snapping at him seeping through, coming off him in dangerous waves.

“Okay, what is with this goddamned attitude? We always watch bullshit movies and you’ve never complained about it before!”

“Mr. Former Prom King isn’t keen on attitudes now? Sounds like a problem that’s not mine.” You push, unable to stop yourself. After all, it’s better than feeling like garbage listening to him go on and on about Nancy, not even knowing he took your virginity and got you pregnant in one go.

If Steve could tuck his eyebrows into his hairline then they’d be there. His hands pinch his hips, lips pursed as he’s clenching his teeth.

“You know what, you should leave. Between your bitching, constant bathroom breaks, and acting too stuck up to watch a movie and eat some popcorn with your friends, you’re not much fun to be around anyways.”

“Steve!” Robin scolds.

“What? Princess is allowed to act like she’s too good to hang out lately and we can’t be upset about it?” Steve motions to you with a tipped hand.

There’s a burning brimming your eyes before you can stop it. You’d prefer the anger. Steve’s hands tighten at his sides, jaw twitching, a biting question, battling his urges to comfort you and apologize for upsetting you. “Why are you even crying right now?”

“Let’s all just calm down and breathe, okay?” Robin stands now, tiptoeing to meet in the middle of you.

“I was calm. I think you need to talk to her about all this. As a matter of fact, call her tomorrow after I call her a cab and she leaves, because I know she’s not working in the morning, and she just lied to our faces.” Steve adds.

Your face flushes, stomach tightening. That sickness is overpowering you, taking control. You can’t stop that watering in your eyes, blurring your vision, making your two best-friends blobs in the distance. They start arguing back and forth, Steve’s evident confusion at Robin defending your behavior, and Robin pleading with him to give you a break. You don’t say anything, but turn on your heel and make the walk down the hallway, barricading yourself in the bathroom and taking care of your pressing bladder, head in your hands as you silently cry.

Being a simple band geek that harbored a crush on Steve for years, turning into his best-friend too when you and Robin began working at the mall with him, to leaning on each other when Starcourt fell into shambles and monsters became very real to you, finalizing one shared night three months ago—it all happened so fast. Steve never said anything more after, just thanked you for being there for him and checked in on you with phone calls and a work chat. You couldn’t bear staying with him that night, either, so you had left, leaving your virginity and your scent behind on Steve’s sheets. You wanted to, you needed him as much as he had to have you, but you weren’t sure how to feel about it, and Robin had picked it up right away—scolding you, before asking how it was and if you were alright. She’s been there for you through it all, and you’re double on the guilt at dragging her into this mess.

“Honey?” A heavy rasping of knuckles and a deep voice, a softer tone is sighing out on the other side.

You imagine him in that Steve Harrington lean, his ankle crossed over the other, palm on the framework, posture leaning into the doorway. Heaving out a breath you shouldn’t have held, you finish and wash your hands, throat constricting around a painful gulp as you unlatch the lock and pull open the door.

You’re right.

His lips making that familiar motion, dark eyes saddened, worried, guilt ridden. You don’t even let him speak, locking your arms around his striped clad waist, arms sliding down, wrists brushing his leather belt. You inhale his laundry detergent, cologne spritzed scent, sniffling your apologies in quiet words. He lets you go on, pulling away a minute later to grip your shoulders, squeezing. “If you are on your period… or you’re upset about something, or I pissed you off, will you please talk to me?”

Your heartbeat gallops full speed ahead, thrumming sporadically against your throat. “I’m not on my period, Steve.” The words feel dry, your lips too chapped to even speak.

“Then what is it, and why can you tell Robin but not me?” He sounds hurt. Really hurt.

You find yourself at a loss, tongue stumbling to scrape up scraps of words. Nothing comes.

“She hasn’t told me shit, but I know that she knows what’s going on?”

You escape his words, chickening out. “My cab ride will probably be here soon, I better go.”

“I never called a cab.” Steve crosses his arms over his chest now. “And I wasn’t going to, you just pissed me off.”

“Yeah, well… ditto.” You snark, not meaning to.

“Okay, care to share why? Because I do everything I can to make sure you’re safe and you’re smiling. It makes me feel like shit when you feel like shit.”

Every scenario you imagined telling Steve about carrying his baby in, you never thought it would be him hovering over your blubbering, nauseated, hot mess form. But as you look into those eyes of his—glittering with undiluted concern, pulse vibrating off your lungs, ping ponging off your jugular, the words come on their own.

“I’m pregnant.”

That very popular symptom of sickness overtakes you, having you abandoning Steve in the doorway with your confession, your knees hitting the floor, head over the toilet bowl as it all comes out. And you sob. Over exerted from physical exhaustion, mentally tired over a guilty conscious, and ready to go to sleep—you pathetically cling to the Harrington’s guest toilet, panting, mouth wet, trembling hand reaching for your hair, only to be swept away. When you look up your heart takes a painful blow, stuttering in your chest. Steve’s eyes are watering, teeth gnawing on his lower lip.

He looks wounded, defeated. Like you kicked him into a gutter and left him there. Alone.

Still, he helps you lean back, stretching his long arm to flush the toilet and reach for a decorative hand towel, using the bathtub faucet behind him to wet it and press it along your forehead, edging down your neck, finally cleaning your mouth. He’s so gentle, so delicate in his touches, aside from his own emotions. You grip his wrist, seeing the dried tears matting his gorgeous lashes, holding his hand in yours. “I’m sorry.”

“How long have you known?” Is all he can croak, voice shaky and damp. He settles back against the wall, you following suit, still holding his hand in yours.

“Two months.”

“We had sex three months ago.” He reminds you, as if maybe he’s unsure how to approach it.

He remembers?

“I found out when I was already four weeks. Besides, it can’t be anyone else’s when I’ve only slept with you.”

“But we were just together for one night.” He looks confused, scrubbing a hand over his face, sniffing.

“Yeah, Steve, we were.” You hope to god that he gets the message without you having to say it.

It takes him moments, which feel like eternity. And then you are very aware of his pointed stare. “Are you telling me I’ve been the only guy to ever take you to bed?”

“Looks like it. Congrats.” You mutter, lifting your knees, an indulging stance your little swollen bump won’t let you complete. You grab over it, an instinctive reaction. Steve’s directing a watchful eye over your bulky denim, swallowing, his words coming out meek, gently. “Can I see?”

You look like a deer caught in headlights, moving to drop his hand, but he holds on, fingertips drawing circles over the back of your palm. “It’s okay.”

It relaxes you enough to agree, using your right hand to lift the denim, your simple lavender top stretched over the small swell that’s nestled at your navel, expanding towards your hips. You feel Steve move your joined hands over the fabric, scraping, scratching, dipping down underneath the bottom, hovering. “It won’t hurt it if I feel, right?”

This makes you laugh softly, shaking your head. “You didn’t pay attention in health class at all, did you?” At his exasperated dumbfounded look, you continue. “S’ okay, Steve. Just please don’t push on anything, because I can’t promise you the front of your shirt won’t look like the Exorcist after.”

“That bad, huh?” He questions, sincerity dripping through his words.

“You have no idea.” You help him raise your tee beneath your breasts, that cute and developing bump in all its glory. Your skin, already getting a couple more stretch marks, shines in the low light of the bathroom, your breathing and Steve’s all that is audible.

Times like this you wish you had your Polaroid to take his absolutely fascinated stare in. His big hand closes over it, pressing feather light, his watch showing 10:01 PM. It feels so damned good to have him know, to have someone touching you like this. And oddly… it’s as if this is how it should always be.

Steve is on the precipice of unknown, a possessive derailment wiggling its way into his normally calm exterior. His baby. Parts of him that fused with parts of you, growing an entire human being. And the sheer fact that you’re swollen with his child? He has to fight every way that pummels a fire into the pit of his stomach.

“I took your virginity when we made this?” He is marveling.

You clear your throat, embarrassed. “You did.”

He sniffles once more, then he’s palming circles across your stomach, before respectfully tugging your shirt down and adjusting it. He makes a move to halt you from shaking the denim back down. “You don’t have to hide it anymore. Please, don’t.”

You give a watery look of incredulous admiration, grateful he’s still the Steve Harrington you have come to know.

And love…

But he doesn’t have to be privy to that part.

“They said I should be able to hear its heartbeat next week.” A lightened load off your chest has you audibly relaxing against Steve’s shoulder—unintentional, but natural—his arm resting around your shoulders, kneading out mounts of week long tension.

“How big is it? I mean… can they tell?” His fascinating questionnaires have you giddy.

Ever the inquiring man.

You move your neck from side to side, attempting to fixate on the knots, trying to get some squeeze off your muscles. Steve takes notice immediately, his fingers tucking beneath your shirt collar, pinching your flesh and rolling it under his easy grip. “Don’t worry, I got you. How’s that?”

“Mhm, s’ good, Stevie.” His nickname tumbles free, making him squeeze you affectionately. “A plum, by the way.”

He does rear back this time, bewildered, a ‘huh’ pressed into the line between his brows.

You laugh, his ministrations on your neck’s nape continuing. “The baby. It’s the size of a plum, is the way they described it to me. Or whatever I wanna think of that is that size.”

“Can I come?” When you frown, he’s quick to continue, his voice a raspy whisper, still tear-dampened. “To the appointment, I mean.”

You won’t deny how your heart is racing, how his wanting to be involved is both scary and welcomed, but you’re also on the defense, walls up. You can only imagine what his parents will think, what everyone will think. And Nancy… You don’t want to ruin anyone’s future from one one sided night of meaningless sex.

Steve can see the wheels turning in your head, your muscles tensing beneath his touch. It’s a bit frightening.

“Honey—“

“I didn’t need anyone’s permission in deciding to have or keep this baby, Steve. I don’t expect any help, I don’t want any pity support. I’ll be fine on my own.”

The familiarity of descending guilt slaps you in the face, Steve’s shocked look peppering his features. “You think I don’t want to help with my own baby? You think I’m that much of a fucking douchebag?!” He stands now, hands on his hips in that stern way.

You too attempt to stand, gripping the empty towel rack to keep steady. “I didn’t know if that’s what you’d want, Steve. We’re both still so young. It’s my body, so the decision to carry our child was up to me. If I wasn’t going to, I still would’ve told you. As for helping? Like I said, we’re both young and you’re attached… elsewhere.” You try, carefully avoiding her name. “S’ not like I was excited to be the Midwest mom that traps the former heartthrob.”

“Then that would make me the Midwest dad that should’ve worn a condom and taken care of you more. If we’re sharing blame here, let’s even it out.”

You’re very aware he meant something else, but it brings you right back to being beneath him, your legs wide open, thighs trembling, hands holding purchase, unsure, going with him, letting Steve lead. That burning loss of feeling Steve Harrington between your thighs is enough to cause you to squeeze your legs, drawing his attention. And whatever this fresh feeling is, he seems to be feeling it too.

Steve lets his arm shift, fingers combing your hair back behind your ear. “You thinkin’ about it?”

You’re pitifully admitting, hands cupping his back as you slink into his embrace. It’s warm, it’s safe, it’s Steve Harrington. There will be a time for talking, but now isn’t it, now is soaking each other in, being together, with your baby boy or girl.

“I’m thinking a lot of things.” Is your answer, but it’s enough for him to remember how you felt that night, the way you gave yourself to him and stayed right there with him.

There’s a soft air around you both, seemingly helping ward off your aching insides, letting the nausea vanish. Your hand wraps itself over the swell, Steve watching in admiration, hand lowering onto your own. It’s back and forth grins, and you’re pulling away as you remember Robin is still in the living room. Stepping forward and out of Steve’s too warm for your hormones to handle embrace, you turn on the bathroom faucet to wash your hands and cup some water into them, drinking and swishing the nasty taste out. Steve doesn’t take his eyes off you, even as you both find your shared best-friend in living room, brow raised in concern and amusement.

Your bump is on full display and she is shaking her short mane, eyeing Steve’s doe eyed gaze, the color on his cheeks. “Aww, congrats, Daddy Dingus.”

You burst into laughter, full on.

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kitchen-spoon · 10 months ago

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Steddie where Eddie moves into a small house in a retirement mobile home park. He is the youngest guy there and is pretty handy. All the old ladies in the neighbourhood start to talk about him when he begins to offer his handyman skills to them as well.

One day after finishing up winterizing Mrs. Harrington’s water supply to her trailer she invites Eddie inside for some tea to warm up. Winter hadn’t hit yet but it was already nippy out she told him. Once inside she invites him to come over Sunday night to join her and her friends ‘book club’. At first Eddie politely declines but once she explains to him that its all the old ladies in the neighbourhood sitting around drinking wine, smoking joints, and gossiping he’s in.

Enter Steve who visits his grandma every Sunday for dinner and sometimes stays for her gossip sessions with all the other bitties in the neighbourhood because the snacks are always great. Steve is surprised that week when the door bell rings and a hot long haired pierced man covered in tattoos is standing there instead of another old woman handing him her coat and cane. Steve sputters for a moment but then his grandmother is coming up behind him explaining this is the young man who fixed her water supply for her.

“Well um, thank you for that.” Steve nods awkwardly, watching over his shoulder as his grandmother waddled away back to her friends. “You didn’t have to come though, sorry if she twisted your arm about it, she’s stubborn.” He rubbed at the back of his neck with a small chuckle.

“It’s okay I really don’t mind.” Eddie smiled easily, inching his way into the house and Steve’s personal space. “Smoking weed with a bunch of old ladies and gossiping about my new neighbours sounds like a great way for me to spend my Sunday.” He winked.

“I- yeah it is pretty fun.” Steve agreed having not moved at all. “The snacks are always great too, you’ll have to try Betty’s blondie cake it’s always my favourite.” Steve leaned in to whisper conspiratorially.

Eddie beamed back at him, eyes roving all over Steve’s face before pausing at his lips for a second then darting back up to his eyes. “Lead the way then big boy.” Eddie bit his lip at how red Steve’s face got, he decided to push it slipping his hand into Steve’s.

“Yeah- uh sure yeah.” Steve nodded dumbly staring at their connected hands for a moment before snapping out of it and tugging Eddie along. “Everything is set up in the living room, I just got the fire going to so it should be warm.”

By the end of the night Eddie and Steve were melted into one another on a small single seater in the corner of the room. They watched as all the ladies gathered their coats one by one as their husbands came to collect them.

“It’s sweet.” Steve sighed unprompted, his head lolled against Eddie’s shoulder. Eddie made a questioning noise so he continued. “Seeing their husbands come walk them back home at the end of the night. They aren’t annoyed that their wives are giggly and a bit wobbly they are just happy they are happy and want to be there to take care of them.”

“You are a sappy stoner Steve.” Eddie teased, he moved his hand over and dropped it onto Steve’s thigh giving it a squeeze. “Can’t say I blame you though, it is very cute to see.” Eddie sighed before unsticking himself from Steve’s side and making his way to the door himself. “I better get going, no husband to come walk me home”. He blushed at the implication of his own words.

“I’ll be your husband.” Steve blurted then immediately turned red. “I mean- I meant that I uhum-“

“You can walk me home Steve.” Eddie smiled wide and teasingly. He looked his arm through Steve’s and tugged him through the door, waving goodbye to Mrs.Harrington with a promise to be back next week.

The walk was short considering Eddie was only 2 houses down and one across. They kept their arms looped the entire 3 minutes they walked, and once they reached the door Steve still hadn’t let go.

“Well goodnight.” Steve spoke first, ducking his head away. He took a deep breath then looked back to Eddie determination on his face when he spoke. “See you next week?”

Eddie smiled but shook his head, “I was hoping sooner, how does Wednesday sound?” He moved in closer his hand sliding down to Steve’s waist.

“Wednesday is great I love Wednesday.” Steve nodded frantically then cringed. “I mean I don’t actually love all Wednesday’s just this one because we are-“

Eddie cut his rambling off with a kiss. He leaned in and connected their lips, his free hand coming up to cradle the back of Steve’s head.

Steve melted into the kiss, his body going lax in Eddie’s hold, “Thanks for saving me from embarrassing myself further.”

“Anytime sweetheart.”

#eddie munson #steve harrington #steddie #stranger things ships #steve x eddie #stranger things #stranger things one shot #meet cute #strangers to lovers #flustered steve Harrington #eddie munson has peircings and tattoos #eddie munson knows how to flirt #confident eddie munson #gay steve harrington #steve harrington pov #handy eddie munson #gay eddie munson

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softmiso · 3 months ago

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our bodies move in unison | eddie munson x reader

🦊 kinktober day 3: 69 (ft. cunnilingus, deep throating, handjobs, vaginal fingering, cum swallowing, and mentions of anal fingering (m receiving) and ball massage)

🥮 other details: nsfw/18+, fem!reader, ~700 words

🍁 cross-posted on ao3

There were two things in this world Eddie couldn’t get enough of: 1) eating you out, and 2) you sucking his cock. When it came to the former, he could go at it for hours; lapping at your folds, sucking on your clit. And the former? Let’s just say that you never held back. Every time you take him into your mouth, he swears he sees God. We’re talking spit and pre dripping down to his balls, which you would also manage to play with while simultaneously deep throating him. Sometimes, a finger or two would migrate downwards, and you’d insert them with a practiced ease.

All that to say, in Eddie’s mind, there would be nothing better than to combine his two favourite activities.

“Eds, what if I suffocate you?” You asked as you continued to grind down on his cock. He stops you, both hands on your hips.

“Honey, that would be a great way to go,” he jokes, and you scoff, “seriously though, don’t worry, okay?” You nod, still hesitant. “How about this: since both of our mouths will be…busy,” he starts, “we can just tap the other person on the thigh three times if we need to stop.”

“Okay,” you agree, “yeah, okay, that sounds good.” A smile forms across your face, partially due to excitement, but also due to a good kind of nervousness.

Slowly, you remove him from yourself, both of you wincing slightly at the loss of contact. You look deeply in his eyes before you start to crawl up and around. Now, as you face the end of the bed, pussy hovering over his mouth, you lean down and take him into your hand. You stroke softly a few times, and you feel his fingers spread your folds.

“Ready?” You hear him ask, and you look back, nodding.

“Ready as I’ll ever be.”

Eddie beats you to the punch, tongue immediately circling your clit. You jolt at the feeling and start to revel in it until you remember the task at hand. With that, you sort of mirror his actions, tongue circling his ruddy tip a few times before you take him as deep as you can.

He doesn’t let up though, flattening his tongue against you and licking through your folds. You start to bob your head up and down. You pause occasionally when you reach his base, and swallow around his length, just like you know he likes it. At that, you feel him moan against you, vibrations spreading through your centre.

Eddie returns the favour, taking your bud into his mouth once again, this time sucking at it with a fervour reserved just for you. When he inserts a finger, you have to remove him from your mouth for a moment, but you still tug at him with your hand.

“Fuck, Eds,” you pant out, “don’t think I’m g—gonna last much longer.” Somehow, he continues, but you know he’s close too. His cock throbs, and you see a pearly drop of precum drip from his tip, which you eagerly lick up before sinking your mouth back down around him.

With one more curl of his finger inside you and suck to your bundle of nerves, you feel yourself coming apart on Eddie’s mouth. You tremble with the strength of your orgasm, seeing stars, and nearly losing feeling in your body. Without even noticing, you moan around him, setting him off.

He releases down your throat, and you swallow down everything he has to give you. You slowly move your mouth up his length, sucking at the tip one last time, and you feel him shudder. You let go with a pop, and finally relax, resting your head on his thigh. You almost forget the position you’re in until you feel a few taps at your own thigh.

“Shit, sorry, baby,” you panic, turning around and sitting back in his lap, “all good?” You ask, hand cradling his face.

“Better than ever.”

*ੈ✩‧₊˚

#stranger things smut #kinktober 2024 #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson smut #stranger things #my fics #stranger things one shot #eddie munson one shot #softmiso kinktober 2024

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star-girl-05 · 6 months ago

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Designated Driver

Steve Harrington x Reader

~★~❤︎~✦~

The party was winding down when Steve started making his way through the house searching for the three of you.

Eddie was the easiest to find, his laughter sounding loudly throughout the living room. As he walked closer the smell of weed filled the air, making him grimace. “Come on Eddie we're going home” Steve called, Eddie just nodded giggling as Steve dragged him to the car. He sat him in the backseat telling him he would be back in a minute. Eddie just nodded sprawling out, his eyes already closing.

He finds Robin next sitting on the kitchen counter snaking on a large bag of chips. It doesn't take much to get her to the car, all he did was grab her chips. Eddie barely reacted to the girl sliding into the backseat. Just like Eddie, she slumps against the seat, still munching on her chips.

You are harder to find, he searched the entire house for you. He began to worry when he couldn’t find you. Before he went into a full-blown panic attack he found you sitting by the pool. Gently splash the water with your feet. You smiled when Steve walked up to you, “Hi Stevie” a little wave accompanied your words.

He can’t help but smile back at you, “Hey, you feeling alright?” you nod your head very enthusiastically.

“Of course, I feel amazing, I’m having so much fun the water feels amazing you should join me.”

“Maybe another time, right now I need to get you guys back to the house.” you pouted a little before sighing. Pulling yourself out of the water, you grab your shoes before making your way back to Steve.

“Carry me?” you make the cutest grabbing hands at him, how on earth could he refuse you? He picks you up smiling as you tightly wrap your arms around him, pushing your face against his neck.

“Hey, that’s not fair” Eddie whines when Steve sets you into the front seat.

“Yeah you made us walk” Robin adds. You just chuckle a little, turning yourself so you're facing them.

“It’s because I’m Steve's favorite” You look at Steve locking eyes with him as he buckles you into your seat. “I’m your favorite right?” Steve just chuckles, nodding his head just barely making your smile grow.

The car ride is silent, the three of you passing out almost instantly. Robins' is the only one that wakes up when he pulls into the driveway. He takes her in the house first followed by Eddie who he had to basically carry into the house.

You're much less of a hassle to carry. As he picks you up you groggily lift your head and look around. Steve's voice draws your attention, whispering a soft “Go back to sleep”. At his words you let your head fall back to his shoulder, tightening your grip around his neck. You're almost back to sleep when he sets you on the bed. You can’t help but whine when he pulls away from you, missing his warmth.

“I’ll be back, I'm just grabbing some clothes for you” he helped you into more comfortable clothes. He followed suit, dressing in pajamas before climbing into bed next to you. “Goodnight” Steve closes his eyes ready for sleep to take him. Only to open his eyes again when he feels you shift beside him.

You place a soft kiss against his lips, “Thank you for taking care of me tonight Steve”

“I’ll always take care of you”

You smile letting your head rest against his chest. “I love you Steve, goodnight” He places a small kiss on the top of your head, a soft ‘I love you too’ leaving his lips before he falls asleep.

#steve harrington #steve harrington smut #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington fanfiction #steve x reader #steve harrington x reader #stranger things #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things x y/n #stranger things x reader #steve harrington x y/n #stranger things imagine #stranger things one shot

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springtyme · 2 months ago

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Maybe something with Steve x f!reader where she is a bit inexperienced and insecure when it comes to dating ad steve askes her out but she is oblivous and thinks it's just as freinds but steve really likes her

𝐔𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐒𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐬 ♡

Steve Harrington x reader || Main masterlist || Steve playlist

summary: If anyone had told your high school self that in a few years you would become friends with Steve Harrington, you would never have believed them, but here you are.

word count: 4.1k

𝐎𝐜𝐭𝐨𝐛𝐞𝐫 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐧𝐠𝐞: 𝐃𝐚𝐲 𝟏𝟗) 𝐇𝐚𝐲𝐫𝐢𝐝𝐞

The crisp autumn air wraps around you like a cozy blanket as you step out of your house, one hand clutching your purse while the other fiddles nervously with the hem of your sweater. Tonight is the annual Hawkins fall festival, and you are beyond excited, you’ve always loved this time of year and Halloween is just around the corner. You’re especially excited because Steve asked you if the two of you should go together, which, if you had been told this a few years back, you would never have believed.

Back then, Steve Harrington was the quintessential popular kid: the cocky, charming, handsome, jock, always surrounded by a group of friends, the king of cool himself. He was all the things that you were not. You were the quiet girl, the one who blended into the background, often lost in books or daydreams. You had admired him from a distance, never once as much as imagined that he’d ever as much as acknowledge your existence.

But people change. Steve has transformed over the years, shedding his old persona for something deeper, something more substantial. You have become friends after you started working full time at family video with him this summer. It was awkward at first; the memories of your high school days still lingered in the back of your mind. But as the weeks passed, you found a rhythm together. Steve’s charm was still there, but now it was complemented by kindness and genuine interest in those around him. He was no longer just the popular kid; he was just Steve—and you happen to really like this Steve.

Sometimes you think that he might feel the same way about you. There are those moments when his gaze linger a little too long, or when he will lean in a little closer than needed to laugh at something silly you said. He seems to always remember the little things—your favorite candy, the books you love, how you like your coffee—there’s a comfortable warmth that has built between you, something that simultaneously feels completely normal and natural yet so confusing.

You don’t know what to make of it all, all you know is the butterflies in your stomach are practically doing the cha-cha everytime he looks at you, which makes you feel silly, you’re not his type, but the feeling is undeniable.

You take a deep breath, the cool air filling your lungs, and step outside fully. Steve is standing by his car, a warm smile lighting up his face as he catches sight of you. His hair is slightly tousled by the wind, and he’s wearing that dark green sweatshirt you mentioned under his jacket that you had mentioned you liked a few weeks ago.

“Hey,” he calls out, a smile spreading on his face as he sees you, his eyes sparkling in the golden light of the last sun of the day that illuminates the street.

“Hey!” you call back, trying to match his energy as you walk towards him. You notice the way his gaze flickers from your face to your outfit—a simple but cute sweater and jeans—but also the way you feel inexplicably warm inside, even as a light breeze rustles the leaves around you.

“You look great,” he compliments, his smile growing wider as he opens the car door for you. You slip inside, fighting back the blush creeping up your cheeks. “I’m really glad that you said yes to come with me, I really wasn’t sure if you would say yes.”

You nod, excitement bubbling in your chest. “Of course. This is going to be fun.”

Steve smiles at your words, a soft one that makes your heart flutter even more. “I’ve been looking forward to this all week,” he admits, starting the engine with a low roar.

The drive to the festival passes quickly, filled with casual chatter and laughter, though you can’t help but feel like there is a slight tension in the air between you. The festival lights twinkle in the distance as you park, and your heart races at the sight of all the attractions—the hay bales, the pumpkins, and the Ferris wheel glowing in the twilight.

As you step out of the car, Steve reaches to grab your hand, a brief but electric moment that makes your pulse quicken. It surprises you, and you, more on instinct than thought, do a little jolt of surprise as you feel his warmth enveloping your fingers. Your action seems to startle him as well. He quickly lets go, and you both look at each other, your cheeks heating as if you’ve both just felt the thrill of a secret.

“Uh, how about we start with the ferris wheel?” he suggests, trying to mask his own awkwardness as you move towards the ticket booth, the festive air filled with laughter and the scent of caramel apples.

“Yeah, that sounds perfect,” you reply, your voice a little shaky as you try to regain your composure. You keep your eyes on the colorful lights strung above, using them as a distraction from the fluttering in your stomach. Friends hold hands, especially in crowded areas, it’s completely normal, but you have just made it weird.

You purchase your tickets, and while waiting in line, you sneak glances at him, noticing how the festival lights cast a warm glow on his features.

As you stand in line to the ride, the excited energy of the festival surrounds you, yet the moment feels isolated within its own bubble. The cheerful screams from the rides seem distant as you steal another sideways glance at Steve. His brow is furrowed slightly in concentration as he watches the ferris wheel turn, his hands stuffed into his pockets like he’s trying to keep himself grounded amidst the bubbling awkwardness that seems to linger between you.

“Do you… um, like ferris wheels?” he asks, his voice tinged with a hint of uncertainty, breaking the comfortable silence while trying to affirm the choice of ride.

You chuckle lightly, appreciative of the effort he’s making to fill the space with conversation. “I think they’re great. It’s nice to see everything from up high, even though I’m a little afraid of heights.” The confession spills from your lips before you can second-guess it.

“Uh oh,” he grins, his tension visibly dissipating as a laugh escapes him. “Guess I’m gonna have to protect you from the edge then.”

“Right,” you reply, your heart racing a little faster. There’s something so comforting in his charm, so disarming in the way he manages to make you laugh while also feeling slightly vulnerable.

There’s only a few more people ahead, you can hear the laughter and excited shrieks of those already atop the ferris wheel, and your heart flutters nervously. The excitement of the ride combines with the nervous energy between you and Steve, creating a concoction of emotions that feels exhilarating and terrifying all at once.

Finally, your turn arrives, and you step into the little cabin of the ferris wheel, Steve following behind you. The moment the door closes, you feel an immediate sense of closeness. You both sit on the bench as the ride begins its slow ascent.

A gentle breeze wafts through the cabin as you start climbing higher. The view below spreads out like a beautiful tapestry—people laughing, lights twinkling in the cool night air, and the pumpkin patch glowing in the distance. For a moment, despite that familiar feeling of fear that jolts through your stomach and chest from the height, you’re moved by the beauty of it all.

But just as quickly, the magic of the moment shifts, and you become acutely aware of Steve next to you. The cabin sways slightly, and instinctively, you lean in closer to him, hoping to steady yourself. Your shoulder brushes against his, and the side of your thighs presses against each other, and suddenly, there’s an electric charge in the air again.

Steve seems to notice, too; his breath hitches slightly, and he glances at you, his brown eyes searching yours for a brief moment before darting away, a hint of color rising to his cheeks. The world outside the ferris wheel becomes a distant memory, the vibrant festival lights melting into a blurred backdrop as the two of you share this intimate space.

“How’re you holding up?” he asks, attempting to calm you with that signature Steve Harrington smile. It’s warm and inviting, and you can’t help but return it, hoping it conveys the mix of excitement and anxiety brewing within you.

“Honestly?” you start, biting your lip slightly as you consider whether to admit the truth. “I’m a little scared, but being up here with you helps.” You hope your honesty doesn’t make things awkward again.

“I’m always available whenever you need to ride a ferris wheel,” he says, trying to lighten the mood, but both of you can sense the shift. His arm brushes against yours, and you can feel his warmth radiating through the thin fabric of your sweater.

“What would I do without a friend like you,” you reply. You really are grateful to have him in your life, you’ve never been the girl with the most friends and most of the ones you have moved away from Hawkins after high school, but in this moment you can’t help but wish that you and Steve could be more than that. Your gaze drifts down again, watching the world spin beneath you, so you don’t see how his face falls slightly from your words.

The air between you thickens with unspoken words, the gentle rocking of the ferris wheel almost amplifying the silence. You focus on the lights below, momentarily getting lost in the vibrant colors and sounds of laughter, but your mind drifts back to Steve. Thoughts of his warmth against your skin make your heart race even faster.

“Hey,” he begins, his voice slightly hesitant, forcing your attention back to him. “I was thinking about…um, going to the hayride after this. It’ll be fun, right?” He’s trying to recapture the lightness of the moment, but there’s a different edge to his tone, almost insecurity.

“Sure,” you reply, maybe a bit too fast, wanting to seem interested in his idea and hopefully get the vibe between you back on track.

He smiles at your enthusiasm, but it’s a small smile, one that doesn’t quite reach his eyes as he turns his gaze back to the ground below, watching the festival swirling around. The brief flicker of uncertainty in his expression doesn’t go unnoticed by you, and it makes the butterflies in your stomach flutter even more wildly.

Once the ride ends and you both exit the cabin, the festival feels even more alive, filled with laughter, screams, and the smell of fried food wafting through the air.

The lights twinkle like the stars above, casting a gentle glow over everything, but the feeling of electric tension still lingers. Forcing a smile, you look over at Steve, hoping to read his expression. He’s glancing slightly shyly at you, scrunching his hands in his pockets again—a telltale sign of nerves.

“Let’s head to the pretzel stand first,” you suggest, wanting to ease the awkwardness. The buttery, salty scent of the pretzels wafts through the air, beckoning you. Plus, you could use a little snack to settle the butterflies.

“Yeah… great idea,” he says, looking towards you, but you break the eye contact too quickly, feeling an odd mix of courage and shyness wash over you. As you walk together, the distance between you feels both far and impossibly close.

When you approach the stand, the line is relatively short, which is a relief. You’re both quiet as you wait in line. You order two warm, buttery pretzels, and as the vendor hands them over, Steve pays, insisting it’s his treat. You protest, arguing that you could cover your half, but he brushes you off with a simple, “no, no, I got it. I was the one who asked you out, remember?”

You know that he didn’t mean it like that, but a small warmth spreads in your chest at the thought of this being more than just a friendly outing. You quickly push the thought aside as he hands you your pretzel, mumbling a, “thanks,” without looking him in the eyes. You know that you’re being dumb, you just wish that you could keep your feelings in check, but he looks too good in the sparkling lights, his eyes twinkling in a way that almost hurts.

There is something about being here with him that feels so bittersweet. It’s easier to just not look at him. You take a bite of your pretzel, the salty goodness grounding you in the moment, and glance around at the festival, trying to focus on the lively atmosphere rather than the tension curling in your stomach.

You keep eating in silence and you keep focusing on the surroundings of the fair around you, looking anywhere but at Steve besides you. You glance at the spin-the-wheel booth nearby, where a group of kids cheer excitedly as one of them wins a stuffed animal. You can’t help but envy their carefree joy and excitement. You don’t know why you have to find everything so difficult as you stand here with Steve, who was once so far out of reach.

It’s not like you want to ignore him, but suddenly you just don’t know what to say or how to act around him. Growing up, you’ve never been the one people chose, and the idea of going to a fair with a boy who you like and who is as sweet to you as Steve is overwhelming, one of those things you have romanticized, and now that you’re actually here, in a way that is so close to that teenager fantasy you had, but still not in the way you had dreamed of—with someone who just sees you as a friend and colleague.

“Are you alright?” Steve’s voice breaks through your thoughts, the hint of concern in his tone making you look up. He’s studying you closely, his brow slightly furrowed and that adorable furrow in his forehead deepening as he watches you. “You’ve been a bit quiet since the ferris wheel. Was this like… a bad idea?”

“I’m fine!” you assure him a bit too quickly, and you wince at how defensive it ends up sounding.

“Okay…” he replies, a flicker of uncertainty crossing his features. It stings more than it should because you know he cares, and that makes it even harder to explain what’s going on inside your head.

You continue to walk in silence for a moment, the vibrant sounds of the festival contrasting with the uncertainty hanging in the air between you. Your heart feels heavy, torn between the joy of being with him and the fear of ruining the one precious relationship you currently have. With each step, a battle rages in your mind, and the taste of the pretzel suddenly feels stale.

“Ready for the hayride?” Steve finally asks after you’ve finished your pretzels, breaking the awkward stretch of silence that had settled between you.

“Yeah, sure,” you respond, trying to sound chill and casual, but you’re afraid it comes out sounding more like indifference.

When you reach the hayride area, you find a rustic wooden wagon decked out with hay bales and pulled by a tractor, its engine humming softly. The laughter of children playing nearby fills your ears, and for a moment, it feels like the weight of the world has been lifted. You both hop onto the wagon, taking a seat on a hay bale amid a group of families and friends, and once again, you feel the familiar warmth of Steve beside you.

The tractor lurches forward, and you cling to the edge of your bale as the wagon bounces along the dirt path, the chill of the autumn air mingling with the warmth radiating from Steve. He adjusts his position slightly, leaning closer as the wagon sways, and the subtle change sends your heart racing.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” he asks, concern lacing his voice as the ride jostles you both slightly.

“Yeah, I’m fine—just enjoying the view,” you reply, your gaze fixed on the canopy of stars beginning to twinkle above, but your heart is still tuned to him.

He chuckles softly, but it is a sound that feels somewhat insecure. “I mean, it’s a nice view, but… I would kind of hope you would look at me every now and then.”

Caught off guard, you turn your head to meet his gaze. There’s something in his expression—vulnerability mixed with that boyish charm—that feels disarmingly sincere.

“I’m sorry if I have read things wrong, or if you felt like you had to say yes to this because I asked you,” he continues, the usual lightness in his voice replaced with an honest sincerity that makes your heart race. “We can just forget that this was ever supposed to be a date and just hang out as friends if that's what you’d prefer.”

Your breath catches in your throat, and for a moment, the world around you fades into a blur. The sound of the tractor and the laughter of kids playing in the distance become muffled as all your focus shifts to him. ‘This was supposed to be a date…’ Did he really just say that?

Your heart races in your chest, both from the weight of his words and the vulnerability etched in his expression. You’ve always thought you could keep your feelings hidden, but now, watching him wrestle with his own insecurities, you can’t bear the thought of losing what you’ve built together over these past months.

Your breath hitches, disbelief coursing through you. “This is a date?” It feels surreal, and your mind races to catch up with your heart.

“Yeah,” he affirms, his gaze steady and sincere, each word punctuated by the thrum of your pulse. The admission hangs in the air, heavy and exhilarating.

“Oh,” you manage to breathe out, the weight of his words settling in like the leaves falling around you. Your cheeks flush, warmth flooding your entire face as you try to process what this means.

Steve seems to realize the misunderstanding, his facedeepens with a mix of hope and anxiety. “I mean, if you want it to be…” He shifts slightly, clearly feeling exposed, but the earnest look in his eyes anchors you to the moment.

You can hardly believe this, the butterflies in your stomach now performing a whole concert rather than just a cha-cha. “Sorry, I didn’t realize…” you stammer, trying to find the right words while your heart races like it’s in a sprint. “I thought we were just… hanging out as friends.”

His expression shifts slightly, a blend of relief and a hint of hurt flickering across his features.

“Shit, I should have made it clearer when I asked you out. I was pretty nervous… It’s totally okay, if you don’t feel the same, but I really hoped we could be… more than just friends. I really like you, you know?” The determination in his voice swells with sincerity, and your breath catches again, this time for an entirely different reason. His honesty floods the air around you, and for a moment, everything seems to fade—the laughter, the stars overhead, the gentle bumps of the wagon.

You can hardly process the whirlwind of emotions crashing over you like a tidal wave. “You... really like me?” The surprise in your voice is undeniable. You had convinced yourself that the interest was one-sided, a figment of your imagination conjured by the butterflies and the lingering glances.

“Yeah, I do,” he reiterates, an earnest smile breaking through his initial unease. “I didn’t want to rush anything, but spending time with you these past months has been so much fun. Back in high school I always thought you seemed so smart and cool and you know… really pretty. But I didn’t think you would be into a dumb jock like me.” His voice carries a hint of vulnerability, making you melt a little more for him.

Your heart swells at his confession, and the rush of emotions leaves you momentarily speechless. “I thought you weren’t into girls like me,” you finally say, your voice barely above a whisper, vulnerability seeping into your words.

“Girls like you?” he echoes, eyebrows knitting together in disbelief. “That’s just not true. You’re incredible. You’re smart, funny, and you’re not afraid to be yourself.” The sincerity in his voice sends a shiver down your spine, filling the gaps left by all the self-doubt that had crept in over the years.

“I… I like you too, Steve,” you admit softly, your heart pounding against your ribcage as the truth finally escapes. The world around you falls away, the crackling of the hay under your knees and the sounds from the festival merging into a blurry background.

He smiles at you, that same breathtaking smile that had made your heart race all summer long. “Really? I mean, wow. I was worried I might have stepped over the line, putting us in some weird situation,” he admits, relief washing over his features.

You shake your head, a joyful laugh bubbling up. “You could never make things weird. I just didn’t realize you felt that way. I always thought I was just... you know, the quiet girl with the crush.”

“Yeah?” He raises an eyebrow, and there’s a twinkle in his eye that feels like your own secret shared between the two of you. “Well, turns out we’ve both been a bit clueless, huh?”

You laugh, the sound bubbling up as you realize how amusing this whole situation is. “Seems like it,” you say, shaking your head in disbelief. “I never thought you even noticed me.”

“Trust me, I noticed,” he responds, the intensity of his gaze making your stomach flip. “We can take this slow, just enjoy the night, but I want you to know that I would love to be more than just friends.”

His eyes search yours for reassurance, and at that moment, amidst the laughter and lights of the festival, the world around you shifts into clarity. You both breathe deeply, holding onto this newfound connection as if it were the most precious thing in the world.

With the stars twinkling above, the tractor bumps along the path, and you can’t help but lean a little closer, feeling bolder in the warmth of his confession. “Okay,” you finally respond, your heart fluttering at the thought of all that could come next. “I mean, I’d like that.”

Steve beams, a boyish grin spreading across his face. As the tractor lumbers along, the bright lights of the festival twinkling in the distance. And then, without thinking much at all, you lean in, drawn by some instinctive need to close the distance between you. Your heart beats wildly, anticipation hanging thick in the air as you catch the scent of the autumn breeze mixed with the sweetness of caramel apples and the warmth of hay all around you. Time seems to slow as he meets you halfway, and in a heartbeat, your lips brush against his in a soft, tentative kiss. It’s sweet, electrifying, a spark that ignites every nerve ending in your body.

You hold your breath, momentarily surprised by how right it feels—like fitting the last piece of a puzzle you didn’t even know was missing. When you pull back slightly, the look in his eyes is pure wonder, the fluttering tension replaced by something warmer and deeper.

“Wow,” he breathes, a soft laugh escaping his lips as if he can hardly believe it just happened. The smile on his face is electric, and your heart swoops at the sight of it. “That was—”

“Really nice,” you finish for him, you still feel the imprint of his lips against yours. It surprises you how natural it felt, how right—as if you had been waiting for this moment without even knowing it.

“Definitely,” he nods, his smile only getting wider as the reality of what just happened sinks in.

You chuckle lightly, your heart still racing as the aftershocks of the kiss continue to pulse through you. You lean your shoulder against his. Steve’s arm finds its way around you, pulling you a little closer, and you feel safe, excited, and thankful that tonight is unfolding in a way you never dared hope.

The wagon lurches forward again, providing a firm reminder of the bustling festival around you. You both settle into a comfortable silence, your shoulders brushing against one another, and it feels like you’re creating your own little world away from everything.

Thank you for reading! Reblogs and comments are always greatly appreciated ♡

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