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lovebugism · 3 months

Note

can i request angst☹️☹️shy!reader barely ever talking and being soo hyperaware of everything and steve slowly breaks her out of her shell? then she overhears him saying she talks too much and she just feels bad and reverts into herself

Angst w happy endingn if possible please ily!!🫶🏼

ty for requesting!! — steve tells you he likes when you talk a lot (shy!fem!r, hurt/comfort, established relationship, 1k)

Your smile is wide and unknowing. Steve thinks there’s something extra special about it because you don’t even realize it’s there. “—And since Eddie was working the register, he let me take one of the new tapes for free. You know, to try it or whatever, and he was all like, ‘flattery works with me,’ and I was like, Steve would keel over if he was here right now.”

A giggle spills from your mouth when your rambling ceases, lips curling and eyes crinkling.

Steve blinks at you with his own absentminded beam, too busy thinking about how pretty you are to react properly to your story.

Your smile sobers slightly. “What?”

“Nothing,” he assures with the shake of his neatly styled head, rogue strands of chestnut hair draping his forehead. He shrugs and leans his elbows over the Family Video counter you stand across. “You’re just… You’re talking a lot. ’S nice.”

Your face heats. Your chest burns with a similar fire. Your eyes widen ‘cause you didn’t realize that you hadn’t shut up until now. “Oh… Sorry—”

“No, it’s good!” he tells you, laughing. “It’s a compliment.”

“Is it?”

“Yeah! I mean, I used to have to bribe you to get you to talk about your day. Remember that?”

Benny’s Burgers was your very best friend at the start of your relationship. Steve would always buy your dinner — not in exchange for you to talk exactly, but in the hopes that the additional time spent with you would help you open up. It did. Most of the time, anyway.

Your nose scrunches. “I thought you took me out because you liked me?”

“I took you out ‘cause I liked you and because the sugar rush from the milkshakes made you talk more.”

You nod once. “Right.”

The conversation ebbs. The store gets eerily silent without your voices to fill it. Steve, undeterred by the lapse in dialogue, flashes you a lopsided smile. “Wanna show me the tapes you bought?”

“Yeah,” you murmur and push off the counter.

Steve watches you over his shoulder while you saunter down the hallway where your bag is kept. The breakroom door squeals open and shut again. A voice sounds suddenly from beside him. “Nice job, dingus,” Robin chides, gritty and montoned.

His head snaps to the other side, brows twisted with confusion. “What?”

“You hurt her feelings,” she answers like it’s obvious, dropping a stack of VHS tapes on the counter with a heavy thud.

“I didn’t even say anything!”

“You said she was talking a lot.”

“I said that I liked it!”

Robin rolls her ocean-blue eyes, huffing ‘cause he’s too oblivious to get the point. “Yeah, but if I said, Wow, you have a ton of gel in your hair— but it’s styled really nice today, it’d give you a whole complex. Wouldn’t it?”

The make-believe compliment is dreadfully backhanded. Steve’s face floods with a gentle horror, the realization of a fallacy he hadn’t realized he’d made. “Shit…”

“Exactly,” Robin deadpans. “Now go take care of your girlfriend, dingus.”

He finds you in the breakroom, idling in place. You’ve got the cassettes in your hands, and you fidget with them between anxious fingers — like you were planning to come out sometime, but not quite yet.

You tense when the door creaks open, relaxing again when Steve enters.

“Whatcha doing?” he wonders with a crooked, pink smile.

“Getting the tapes,” you answer in a mousy voice, waving the pieces of plastic in your hand.

The door clicks shut behind him. He inches towards you, fond and terribly soft with it. “I missed you,” he confesses in a faint murmur. His wide palms settle on your sides. You warm instantly under his touch.

“I was gone for two seconds,” you respond with a quiet laugh.

“Yeah. And I felt like I was dying.”

You meet his pout with a small smile, blinking up at him with sparkling doe eyes. “You’re so dramatic.”

“I just love being around you, alright? Sue me,” he argues, squeezing softly at your hips. With a quieter smile, he confesses, “And when I said you were talking a lot— I didn’t mean anything by it, you know?”

You’d disappeared back here because you thought it was something silly to be so upset over. He’d told you it was a compliment, but it didn’t really feel like one. Your brain refused to be anything other than hurt by his well-intentioned remarks. The ache in your chest became unignorable, and you shrunk inside yourself accordingly.

“I know,” you murmur.

“I love hearing you talk,” he tells you, shy smirk widening to a lopsided beam. “It’s my favorite thing in the whole world, actually.”

Your lips purse to the side. Your anxious hands fidget with the plastic cassettes in your palms, aching to hold him. It takes you a moment or more to find the courage to speak. “I’m just… I’m normally super aware of… when I’m talking too much, you know? I was just… Excited, I guess.”

“You were. And it was really fuckin’ cute.” A laugh sputters from his lips. He wears all the love he has for you in the deep honey of his eyes, rich and swimming with warmth. “I love seeing you happy.”

“Well, you make me happy…” you whisper, gaze averted. “So, it fits…”

“Yeah, it does,” he murmurs in response, ducking down to kiss you. It’s chaste and terribly fleeting — lips locking together one moment and then smacking in protest when they separate the next.

It takes your eyes a second too long to flutter open again after he’s pulled back from you. You find Steve already grinning as he nods to the tapes in your hands. “Wanna pop those into the radio? So we can listen to ‘em while I work?”

Your brows pinch with a distant worry. “Won’t Keith get mad?”

“Probably,” Steve answers with an uncaring shrug. “You don’t have to worry about him, alright? I’ll take care of you.”

You melt.

#published by bug #steve harrington x reader #stranger things x reader #steve harrington #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington imagine #stranger things imagine #stranger things fanfic #stranger things fic #stranger things fanfiction #steve harrington fanfiction #steve harrington fic #steve harrington fanfic #st drabbles #stevie drabble

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stevenose · 1 month

Text

disarm (18+)

contains: steve x reader; reader with a vagina; reader is called ‘girl’ once; sexual tension; drunk!flirty!steve; lil bit of inspection kink; size kink; teasing; no smut just whorish vibes

author note: i hope you folks like it! i won’t be doing a part 2 of this one, but hope you enjoy the tension :)

Steve’s always saying weird shit to you when he’s drunk.

You know he’s just uninhibited. That if he were sober he’d be so embarrassed. You keep telling yourself that, at least.

The first time he approaches you like this, he asks, “What color underwear you got on?”

You humor him, tipsy yourself. “Take a guess.”

Steve really looks like he’s thinking, dilated pupils staring deep into yours. “Red?”

“Nope.” you can’t stop looking at him, and he isn’t looking away either. “They’re blue, actually.”

“How’d you know that’s my favorite color?” he asks, voice low, leaning forward to rest his palm on your knee.

“Oh, you think I wore them for you?”

“I wish.”

He’s easily distracted and the conversation goes no further. It’s easy to shrug him off. You know he’s a whore, anyway - have to hear about his most recent date every time you see him.

But then it happens again.

Steve stops you in the hallway at the next party, his warm hand curling around your bicep gently. Makes you stop walking to look at him.

“Havin’ fun?” he asks. His t-shirt is cut low - your eyes are drawn to the dark patch of hair on his chest.

“I think so.”

He grins, borderline diabolical. Teeth straight and white, blunt edges that could bite bruises into your skin. “There’s a free bedroom upstairs if you wanna have more.”

“Huh?”

“I said -“ he leans in towards you, until the tip of his nose touches yours, “- there’s a free bedroom upstairs if you want to have more fun.”

He doesn’t stay very serious, however. He giggles, pulls away from you and winks before continuing on his way. You roll your eyes after him, trying to brush off the way he made your stomach flip. He apparently doesn’t fuck without a first date, anyway.

And then it just sort of keeps happening. Sometimes he’d just stare at you, mouth slightly agape, watching you from the other side of the room. Or he’d make sure his palm presses firmly against the small of your back as he “squeezes past” you to grab another drink, despite there being a five foot clearance.

One night, when he’s more drunk than usual - something to do with a bad week at work - he goes a lot farther than he has. He finds you in the corner of the living room, looking at the lines in your own palm.

“Hey,” he says, quite loudly, startling you.

When you look up, he’s extremely close to you. Eyes soft, but staring into yours. He smells like maraschino cherries, no doubt from the strawberry daiquiris he won’t admit he loves. “Hi,” you breathe, trying to look at his eyes, but they keep moving languidly from your eyes to your lips to your chest. Your breasts peak out from the scoop-neck of the baby tee you’re wearing. And, okay, it’s baby blue - you may have worn it just to see what he’d do.

“Can I help you?” you ask.

He nods, nose slanting downwards towards your tits. “Y’never really wear stuff like that.”

You shake your head. “Not really.”

“Why not?”

You grin. “Because pervs like you will stare.”

He scoffs. “That’s ‘stactly why you shouldn’t be wearin’ it here.”

Your eyes narrow at him. Now he’s just being annoying. “Oh, are you mad?”

“A little.” He licks his lips, tongue stained red from the mixer. “You should only be wearin’ somethin’ like that when you’re gonna get fucked.”

Your eyes widen, heart hammering in your chest, enough to feel it in your throat. He’s never been so forward before. And he’s backing you into the wall, trapping you in - very deliciously.

He tilts his head, highlighted hair bobbing over his forehead. “Are you gonna get fucked tonight?”

You swallow hard, blood icy cold. You’re not used to this tango, not with him. “You tell me.”

Steve blinks like he’s also shocked, goes a little slack jawed. He looks down at your tits, then back up. “I think you should get fucked tonight.”

Your hand clenches around your drink, threatening to fall to the floor. You’re weak, sore and needy between the legs.

Perhaps he’s willing to make an exception for the date rule for you.

“Will I?”

“With tits like those?” He nods down again. “Bet you’ve got the sweetest nipples. You like havin’ ‘em bit? Sucked?”

You wonder if he feels the heat radiating off of your face. “Steve,” you say, trying to give him a warning. You can’t breathe, knees beginning to shake. “What kind of friend asks that?”

His jaw clenches, then unclenches. “So you just see me as a friend?”

You bite your cheek. “That’s what you are, aren’t you? Or do you know something I don’t?”

“I -“

You’re both startled by the sound of champagne popping, shrieks and woops breaking you out of whatever you were just entangled in. And Steve, so easily distracted, groans and marches towards the kitchen, shouting, “I told you to take that shit outside!”

You inhale deep, thumping chest caving in, collarbones turning sharp. It’s suddenly so cold without him in front of you. You run a hand through your hair and look around, spotting Robin grinning at you from ear to ear. You roll your eyes at her and move through the living room to get some water and air.

You wonder if he’ll even remember when he’s sober. If he’ll apologize for asking something so insane. But he either doesn’t remember or wants to forget, because when you’re back to return tapes two days later he acts completely normal. It isn’t a bad thing - it’s a bit fun to play with him in such a non-serious way. Though you do find his hands gripping the next tape you rent for a bit too long, shoves your change into your hand and lets his palm linger against yours.

Another get together - you can hardly call it a party when there’s only ten people present - brings you back to his apartment two weeks later. It’s much more low key and he, in turn, drinks much less. He still gets drunk, though - laughing loudly, freckled neck on display. Does things he gives Robin shit for. You laugh beside her when she scoffs at him, throwing a pillow across the way to hit him in the back of the head.

“I’m gonna get a drink,” she says. “Do you want one?”

You tell her you’re okay and she’s off, leaving the couch beside you empty. Which Steve notes. Immediately.

“What’s a place like you doin’ in a girl like this?”

“You invited me,” you remind, the couch dipping as he sits beside you.

“Ohhh. And why’d I do that?”

You hum, trying to suppress a smile. “I don’t know. You must like me.”

He narrows his eyes. “You know I do.”

You’re already getting horny again. “Because I leave big tips for you?”

“And what do you know about big tips, huh?”

You laugh, a little shrill, feeling very much on the spot. Then he grabs your hand, pulling it up against his. You assume he’s comparing the size - a clear flirting tactic - and you watch him with much adoration as he examines them together. His first knuckle is able to come down on your finger tips and he grins. “You’ve got small hands.”

“Maybe yours are just freakishly big.”

“Wanna know what else is?”

Which, truly, in any other situation this would be funny. But it so isn’t. His words are deathly serious to you.

“Well, it can’t be your brain.”

Steve scoffs again. “Oh, funny.”

Out of nowhere, you’re doused with something cold. Robin’s tripped on the rug, spilling her wine on you. You gasp just as she says, “Oh, shit!”

“Rob-in!” Steve sounds more than exasperated with her, but it’s hard to take it seriously when he’s slurring.

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry - I got - I tripped - with my big clown feet - oh my god, are you okay?”

“I’m fine!” you promise, despite the huge red stain on your white shirt. It’s still dripping down you, onto your skirt. Drenched. “Uh, let me go to the bathroom.”

“I’ll help,” Steve says, stumbling when he stands, helping you off the couch. You’re certain he won’t be much help but you accept his assistance anyway.

You’ve noticed how Steve gets into these dad modes. Like, one time Robin choked on a lemon seed that was in her water and Steve wouldn’t let her drink without him checking her cup for two months afterwards. And there was the time that Eddie, clumsier than Robin, tripped and scraped his knee, and Steve acted like Eddie was five. So now it’s your turn, ushered into his bathroom while he props you against the counter and scrounges around for a towel.

“It’s okay,” you say, “I’m just wet.”

“I got it,” he assures, running a washcloth under the tap. You’re sure he thinks he’s helping, as much as he can when he’s inebriated, but you’re very certain a wet washcloth won’t help. He swats your hands away when you try to take it from him, and he starts blotting the wine.

His hair in your face smells fruity, like his hairspray. “Steve, I don’t think this is doin’ much.”

His brows are knitted in concentration. “‘s almost out.”

You look down. It is not.

But you let him feel important anyway. Watching as he dabs and dabs and dabs over your sternum. His breath tickling your neck. And now that the shock has worn off, you’re getting turned on again. By his attention, how he’s trying to help, how his big fucking paws are right there. You’re practically begging god to make him do something when his hands start wandering.

Steve brings the towel over your breast, blotting as usual, then slowing. Like it’s clicking what he’s doing. And then he presses a little harder, lingers for a while. His palm touching you more than the cloth. His eyes drift up to yours as he moves towards the other. And instead of blotting, his hand cups it.

You simply let him.

The cold has made your nipples perk up under your bralette. Steve’s thumb swipes over the hardened nub. You both stare at each other, willing the other to do more, but it’s left in a stalemate. Steve throws the washcloth in the sink, lets his hand slide over your heart.

“Heartbeat’s so fast,” he observes softly. “What’s that all about, huh?”

You swallow hard. “Lot of excitement.”

His eyes drift down. “I can tell.”

You take a big breath, looking away from him. “Do you have something I could borrow?”

“Like what?”

“Like, a shirt?”

Steve blinks, looking sad. “Oh. Yeah, yeah, prob’ly.”

As you walk behind him to his room, you decide you’ll throw him a bone whenever the opportunity arises. You certainly can’t have him thinking you don’t like his attention. You watch him clumsily rifle through his closet before he finds a black sweater that’ll match your skirt well enough.

It makes you dizzy how it smells like him, even freshly laundered. “Thank you.”

“Mhm.” Steve simply stands in front of you, hands on his hips, lips pulled in tight. Looking at you like he’s thinking really hard.

You bite your lip, heartbeat fastening again. You turn from him to place the shirt on his bed, which seems to snap him out of whatever stupor he’s in. He clears his throat and turns to leave, but you call after him.

“Steve?”

He turns, brows furrowed. “Yeah?”

You inhale deep before slowly peeling your shirt off of you. Taking your time, letting it catch on the curve of your breasts. You let it slip to his floor and you continue watching him. Watching his chest rise and fall rapidly, his nostrils flaring, chestnut eyes staring right at your bra-clad chest. You’re so hot you’re beginning to sweat - and then you reach behind you to unclasp your wet bralette.

Steve’s jaw drops comically slow as it joins your shirt on the floor. You can’t help but to smile.

“What do you think?” you ask quietly.

He shakes his head slowly. “Think you’ve been holdin’ out on me.”

You press your tits together with your arms as you shrug at him, turning around to fetch the sweater he’s given you. You figure it’ll be enough for him to know you’re wearing his shirt, chest bare underneath, but then he says, “Your skirt is wet, too.”

You don’t turn to look at him as you grab the fabric, leaning forward for it. “Don’t suppose you have one for me to borrow?”

You didn’t even hear him walking up behind you. You’re suddenly pressed into the bed, his hand pushing down on the space between your shoulder blades to keep you against the mattress. Your breath hitches, stomach flipping. You feel how hard he is against your ass, and he grinds once before sliding down to kneel behind you.

“What are you doing?” you breathe.

“Checkin’ out the damage.” His hands push your skirt up, up, up, until it rests above your ass. You feel his breath fanning across the back of your thighs. “Y’know,” he continues casually, “since you said you’re wet.”

Your breaths turn shallow. Steve’s hands, warm and soft, run up the backs of your thighs slowly. You part them for him. Heat rushes to your face when he laughs behind you, but he doesn’t say anything. Must just be overjoyed that you’re letting him do this.

His hands move to your hips, squeezing them slightly before tucking his fingers under the waistband of your underwear. You’re so dizzy it almost makes you sick - but you wait patiently as he slowly pulls them down.

“Oh, you weren’t kidding,” he observes quietly. Lets your underwear hang around your knees. “All this for me?”

“Yes,” you whine. “Been - you’ve been working me up for weeks.”

“I know.”

You want to call him a bastard, but you’re stunned into silence when he parts your folds. The sound it makes is embarrassing to you, but Steve coos at it. “You’ve got such a pretty pussy. Knew you would.”

You exhale shakily. “Steve….”

“Fucked my fist to it,” he admits. “But I didn’t think it’d be so tiny.”

And then one of his fingers presses against your hole. Just enough. You short circuit, electric running through you, knees going weak. Steve’s free hand steadies them, fingers splayed out along your skin.

“Can you even get any fingers in here?” he mumbles. Circles your little hole, your eyes crossing. “Know your hands are so tiny, too.”

“No,” you force yourself to say. “Not really.”

He sounds contemplative. “Just one of mine would split you in two.”

His finger trails down, resting at your swollen clit for a few short moments before he pulls away, yanking your underwear back up.

You feel more than upset. Devastated that he’s pulled away. You want to grab him, cunt hurting from the teasing with no relief.

“Steve-“

“You know I don’t fuck without a date first,” he grins. As if he didn’t just ruin your life with whatever that was. Like he didn’t just turn you into his cock-dumb whore. Jesus Christ, if he told you to spend the rest of the night topless, you would. “So here’s what’s gonna happen, okay?”

Then he’s back, leaning over you, pushing you into his bed. His cock really straining against his jeans while he presses into your ass. He puts his lips right up against your ear. “You’re gonna get dressed ‘nd we’re gonna party, ‘kay? Then tomorrow I’m gonna pick you up and take you for breakfast.” He ruts himself into you and you moan. “Sorry, sweetheart. ‘m usually a dinner guy but I can’t wait that long to have you. How’s nine sound?”

“You… there’s n-no way you’re going to be up at nine.”

He scoffs. “‘ve got an alarm clock.”

You press your ass back into him. “You’ll forget.”

“Haven’t forgotten you so far.” Grinds against you again.

“You remember when you’re sober?”

“Honey. You’re all I’ve been able to think about.”

Then he’s off of you, leaving your tits pressed to his mattress, overwhelmed. He walks towards his desk while you desperately try to stand - your legs are still shaking. Your fingers curl around his sweater just as he comes back, arm marked up with a pen.

BREAKFAST AT 9 WITH HOTTIE :)

“See? Won’t forget.”

You’re still not so sure - you’ll have to wait and see. As you finally start pulling his sweater on, he grabs your bra, tucking it into his back pocket. “I’ll wash it for you,” he says, patting it.

“Yeah? After you cum in it?”

Steve smiles deviously. “You wanna watch me do it?”

#steve harrington smut #steve x reader #stevenose writes #ns/fw #robin tripped on purpose. btw

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buckyalpine · 3 months

Text

Did You Hear

Fluffyy crack fic and nothing else. Imagine Tony Stark's shy new assistant sitting at the kitchen island for breakfast, getting a cup of tea before heading to the lab. She's sipping from her steaming mug when a very pretty super solider walks in from his run and the heat rising in her cheeks isn't from the hot Earl Grey.

"Mornin' y/n" He gives you a polite smile while he makes his way to the fridge and you had to silence the squeak that nearly escapes your lips. He's in a pair of snug grey sweats which are resting sinfully low on his hips and his tight black t-shit showing off every divot and curve of muscle on his torso. You bite you lip as he bends down to grab a cold bottle of water, silencing a squeal with a sip of tea.

"Morning, Sergeant" You give him a smile and the lopsided grin he gives you as he goes on about his day leaves you giggling and kicking your feet. You were just about finished your cup when Nat walked in next, looking you up and down with a shake of her head.

"Bucky was here, wasn't he" She playfully rolled her eyes knowing the effect the brunette had on you. "What happened this time"

"Bucky has a cute butt" You giggled, while Nat snorted at your flustered state. "And slutty thighs"

"Do you ever plan on actually telling him"

"No!" You vigorously shook your head. That was out of the question for you; you were happy to admire the soldier from afar. The last thing he'd want is to have to deal with is the playground crush you had on him anyway, it was a miracle he even noticed you. "He doesn't even see me that way"

"Well, guess we'll never know" She sassed as you slipped off the stool to make your way to the lab.

"I'm happy to admire God's work from a safe distance!" You called over your shoulder while Nat shook her head, smirking to a third person you didn't see who was lingering near the kitchen, very happy to listen intently to the conversation that was taking place.

The one that was supposed to be a secret from Bucky's ears.

That wouldn't do.

"Did you hear?" Sam grinned, sauntering over where Bucky was sparring with Steve, both men panting after already going for a few rounds. "Word on the street is you have a cute butt"

"What" Bucky deadpanned while Steve smirked, watching the heat in his friends cheeks already starting to creep up to his ears.

"Mhm, that little tush of yours has been getting a lot of attention lately"

"From who" Bucky's face scrunched up in confusion, frowning when Sam cackled, clapping his shoulder.

"Tony's cute lil assistant" He says with a wink, noting the immediate change in Bucky's demeanor, his frown falling off his face, replaced with a very pink blush.

"You mean y/n?"

"Uh huh. Must've been those slutty grey sweats you've been running around in"

"Slutty?"

"Extremely. Especially with those thighs"

"And how do you know this" Bucky struggled to bite back a smile, not wanting to get his hopes up until he was sure. "There's no way she-

"Heard her talking to Nat this morning. She sounded real excited after seeing you and your cute butt" Sam gave him a swat causing him to yelp.

"Hm. Interesting" The soldier nodded already looking towards the showers so he could rinse off and find you.

"Yeah, yeah, go find your girl" Steve shoved Bucky off the mat with a grin. Bucky jogged off to the lab right after a shower, purposely throwing on a new pair of his snug joggers. He smirked as he walked in seeing you fully focused on a small creation Tony created, tinkering away without noticing him.

"Hey doll"

"Ser-sergeant!" You squeaked in surprise as he strode inside, dropping the gadget you were working on, "What can I help you with"

"Sam told me something earlier", Bucky shrugged casually while you stayed frozen in your seat, your heart rate picking up the closer he got. "Was wonderin' if you knew anything about it"

"What's-what's that" You fidgeted nervously, his baby blues staring at you intently, loving how flustered you looked.

"Someone said something about me having a cute butt"

"Oh" You looked like deer in headlights, wishing the ground would swallow you whole.

"Oh?" Bucky smirked while you hid your face in your hands, ready to sink to the floor and hide under the table, he must have thought you were such a pervert. "And something about slutty thighs-

"Not just your butt! All-all of you is cute all over" You squeaked out before slapping a hand over your mouth realizing you were making it worse.

"All of me, huh" Bucky pried your hand away from your face, cupping your cheek instead, the cool metal of his arm soothing your hot skin. "So you do think I have a cute butt and slutty thighs"

His thumb came up to pull your bottom lip away from where it was caught between your teeth, smiling at the little nod you gave him, too scared to open your mouth.

"Well I'm glad"

"Y-you are?" You shyly whispered, nearly whining when he brought his other hand to hold your face gently, his lips brushing against yours.

"Mhm, means I can do this" You went limp in his hold, every muscle in your body turning into mush as he kissed your lips sweetly, the gentle peck feeling like he'd stolen your breath away. "Don't faint on me sweets" Bucky chuckled as he pulled away, seeing the dazed look on your face.

"Such a cute butt" You whispered to yourself, eyes growing wide when you realized you said that out loud. You buried yourself in his chest making Bucky grin, kissing the top of your head.

"Want to grab coffee with my cute butt?" Bucky tipped your chin up to look at him, "I'll even bring my slutty thighs" He threw in with a wink.

"Promise?" You giggled while he slipped in his hand in yours, leading you towards the door.

"Scouts honor, doll"

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steddiealltheway · 9 months

Text

"You're dead, Harrington!"

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

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

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

Shit.

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

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

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

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

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

"Why would he be in here?"

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

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

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

"Looking forward to it," Eddie says sarcastically.

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

"You can come out now."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Huh. He'll unpack that thought later.

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

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

"Mabe I should start selling him weed then."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Oh.

"So, do you have a boyfriend then?"

Eddie freezes, fear evident all over his tense body.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Among other things."

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

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

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

The warning bell rings.

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

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

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

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

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

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lihhelsing · 3 months

Text

"What do you mean you don't remember your first kiss?" Eddie asked, giving Steve that look he always got whenever he made the mistake of mentioning that piece of information about his past.

Steve shrugged, feeling uncomfortable and hoped Eddie would drop it. "I just don't remember it. Guess it wasn't memorable."

Eddie rolled his eyes, "You're telling me your first kiss wasn't memorable?"

"Yeah, man. It's whatever."

Now, both Eddie and Steve knew that was a lie. Not that Steve necessarily cared about something like a first kiss, but it bothered him that everyone seemed to have either a funny or sweet story to tell.

Like how Robin's first kiss had happened under a tree with her first girl crush, or how Nancy's first kiss only happened because the guy was kind of scared of her, or how Jonathan's first kiss only happened with Nancy.

"Do you remember yours?" Steve asked and Eddie nodded instantly.

"Of course I do."

Steve raised a brow at him and Eddie chuckled.

"It wasn't anything special, really. I kissed a guy under the bleachers and he never spoke to me again after that, the end."

Eddie was using that voice he always used whenever something bothered him.

"So it wasn't good," Steve said as he placed his hand on top of Eddie's. What was worse, not remembering your first kiss or feeling like shit about it?

"The kiss was ok. It was barely a kiss, I had no idea what to do with my hands and tongue and it was a little weird. Nothing to write home about, that's for sure. But I lost a friend that day and it really sucked. It made me think kisses are more powerful than they have any right to be."

And wasn't that the truth? Steve remembered other first kisses. Like his first kiss with Nancy, that he thought was gonna be the last first kiss of his life. He was wrong about that, of course.

"I know what you mean," Steve said. His hand was still on top of Eddie's but now Eddie was smiling.

And then he was grinning.

"I have an idea," he said, looking like a maniac. And Steve knew that couldn't be a good thing.

"Should I be scared?"

Eddie laughed. "Probably. What if..."

"Yeah?"

"We kissed."

Time seemed to stop for a second and then Steve was frowning at Eddie.

"What?"

"Yeah! Think about it, Steve," Eddie said, getting up. He always got restless when his brain started to work in full power. Steve thought it was kind of cute. "You can pretend this was your first kiss, so then when people tell you you can picture it and just make up some story about it."

Steve raised a brow, "I'm pretty sure that's not how first kisses work. Plus, what's in it for you? You remember your first kiss."

Eddie shrugged, throwing himself back on the couch and landing much closer to Steve than he was before. "Sure. But then I can will my brain to understand kisses don't have to mean something. This could just be a friendly kiss between two friends. Nothing else."

For some reason that didn't seem right, but Steve nodded anyway.

"Ok."

Eddie's eyes widened. "Ok?"

"Yeah, ok. Let's kiss and see what happens," Steve said. "What?"

Eddie bit his lower lip, "I don't know. I just didn't think you were gonna say yes."

Steve laughed, throwing his head back. Classic Eddie. His mouth was too big for his own good. Steve fucking loved it.

"Well, that's ok. I'll help you," Steve said, leaning in close.

He could see Eddie's eyelashes and the way his cheeks were tinted red. Steve placed a hand on the nape of his neck and heard the exact moment Eddies's breath hitched in his chest.

"Is this ok?" he asked. Eddie might talk a big talk but Steve wasn't about to cross any boundaries. If he said he was just joking Steve would pull back and pretend it had never happened.

But Eddie didn't, so Steve stayed. Close to him but still not kissing him.

"Y-yeah," Eddie said, nodding slightly. Steve smiled and buried his hand on Eddie's hair before leaning in and pressing their lips together.

The kiss was slow and sweet and Eddie was pliant on Steve's hand. For all his attitude, Steve kind of liked to shut him up like that.

Steve was about to pull back when Eddie whined in the back of his throat and pulled him close by the waist. He had no idea where all that came from but before he noticed he was straddling Eddie's lap and kissing him like his life depended on it.

Eddie tasted like cigarettes and Mountain Dew and Steve thought that combination might be his new favorite. He was so responsive as he kissed Steve back, opening his mouth and letting Steve explore as much as he wanted and all that while holding on to his hips.

Steve liked how Eddie's hands curled around him. Like they belonged there.

When it was becoming clear neither of them was interested in stopping, Steve pulled back so he could look at Eddie's face. All he could see was the pure want in his eyes.

"That's a pretty nice first kiss," Steve said playfully and Eddie snorted, squeezing at his waist.

"Oh, sweetheart. I'm glad," Eddie smiled at him and it was the greatest thing ever. "I can't say the same for my part of the deal though."

Steve frowned. "What do you mean?"

Eddie let his head fall back into the couch and closed his eyes. Steve felt his heart hammering in his chest. Had Eddie hated the kiss?

When he opened his eyes there was an intensity behind them that made Steve want to get up and run.

"I can't pretend it doesn't mean anything, Stevie."

Oh.

Before he knew it, Steve was leaning in and stealing another kiss from Eddie's lips. This time when they parted Steve didn't bother moving too far from him.

"Then don't."

#steddie #idk #I just had a thought and ran with it #first kiss #steve harrington #Eddie munson #stranger things #ficlet

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inkedbybarnes · 1 month

Text

anything

bucky barnes x fem!reader

summary: bucky is determined to take care of you while you're sick.

word count: 1.6k+

warnings: mentions of insecurities, mentions of illnesses (but vaguely described), fluffy ahh shit bc why not, usage of pet names such as baby and doll. bucky being stubbornly sweet (it is indeed, a warning), lowercase writing.

i've been sick the past few days hence the creation of this fic. idk why my mood drops when i'm sick... once again, this is too fluffy even for my own good but i warned you and you're reading it still anyway. 🤨 haha jk, i hope you enjoy this one! 🩷

dividers by @cafekitsune!

reblogs, comments, and likes are highly appreciated! thank you. ♡

“can you please let me in, baby?"

that was the fifth time bucky had asked the same question, never giving up on his mission to take care of you after learning from jarvis – out of all people... or robots? – that you were sick.

“bucky, i promise, i'm fine. stop trying to break the door,” you answered, your clogged nose not helping as you sounded horrible even with a concrete wall separating you from him. “go and tell steve that you're joining the mission. you can't withdraw yourself just because i'm—achoo!”

your nose began to leak, and you were now distracted with the need to find the tissue box that used to be on your bed. you didn't hear the door clicking open as well as the heavy footsteps of a certain soldier walking towards you.

“just because you're what? sick?”

you jumped, feeling the edge of the bed sink with his weight. you quickly grabbed the tissue box that was mysteriously thrown under the bed before facing bucky with the duvet covering most of your body.

“how did you open the door?”

bucky shrugged. “i broke the doorknob. you didn't say anything about breaking doorknobs.”

you sighed, not winning this argument with bucky. “you shouldn't be here, bucky. you're supposed to be preparing for a mission tomorrow, not babysitting me!”

“and let you go through this on your own? tough chance, doll. i'm your boyfriend for fuck's sake, and don't tell me that you're worried about getting me sick because we both know i'm immune," he argued, reaching out and pulling the blanket down enough to reveal your face. “are you really upset that i want to take care of you? you should be demanding things from me, baby. instead you've been hiding from me.”

“because i don't need anything, bucky. i can handle myself just fine." you huffed, knowing you wanted his attention and care so badly. remembering your face was exposed, you felt insecure again. you dragged the cover back up and turned away. “i also don't want you to see me like this.”

“like what?"

“like a mess," you muttered underneath the sheets. “you've never seen me like this before, and i swear i am the worst when i'm sick. you don't have to see me like this, okay? i don't want you to.”

you felt silly. it was completely normal to get sick, but you hated how extreme your body would act out whenever an illness would attack you. you'd always sound and look like you were fighting a battle in hell alone. the way your mind would take an entire flip and drag you to your lowest point didn't help either. so, not only were you feeling physically horrible, you were also struggling mentally.

“a mess? what mess?” he asked, lifting the cover to join you underneath it which caught you off guard. you were entirely exposed to his eyes now. “there's my girl. where's the mess that you're talking about, huh?”

with the little amount of energy left in you, you brought your hands up to cover your face. he could see how much of a mess you were now, far from the dream you've painted since the day you dated him. now, you were nothing but a nightmare of your reality.

“don't you dare hide from me. i haven't seen you all day and it's driving me insane," he complained, pulling your hands away from yourself. he brought his thumb to your teary eyes, wiping the tears away before they could fall. “i can't believe you're hiding from me just because you think i can't handle seeing you sick. what did you think i'd do once i saw you like this?”

you sniffed, hesitation holding you back from telling him the truth. it's only been three months since you've started dating bucky, and you were still in that stage where you'd constantly try impress him.

you weren't faking yourself, no. however, you still did your best to only show your good side and tuck away your insecurities. unfortunately, you had to get sick too soon and have to risk bucky seeing you this way.

“you thought i'd leave you? won't like you anymore? get turned off or something?”

you nodded, knowing that was exactly what went through your head and a bit pissed that he was able to read your mind without actually having the power to do so.

bucky's eyes softened at your confession, letting out a soft sigh as he saw how badly you were beating yourself up.

“if it's because of how you look right now, then it's true. you do look different," he answered, your chest tightening. “your eyes lost their glow, you're frowning more often, your eyes are all puffy, you are definitely grumpier than usual, your lips are dry and chapped from—”

“okay, i get it, bucky! you don't have to rub it in my fa—”

“but i won't be doing whatever is on your mind. you're sick, doll. it'll affect you. it's normal. hell, i look even worse when i used to get sick, but you? you still look so fucking lovely." he held your face gently, leaning forward to kiss your forehead. “even then, i don't give a fuck on how messy you can get. i'm your boyfriend. i should be taking care of you, helping you feel better, and bringing back the glow in your eyes. please, baby. let me take care of you.”

this time, you were looking back at him. "you mean it?"

"of course I mean it," he replied softly, his voice filled with sincerity. "i love you, doll. i don't care how you look like right now. you could look like a swamp monster and be sick as a dog, and i would still think that you are the most beautiful woman for me."

you giggled softly, his words filling you with warmth and reassurance. you felt so lucky to have a man who truly loved you and handled your insecurities with such understanding and care, and even sillier for thinking he'd leave you for such reasons.

“thank you. that really made me feel better," you told him, your arms slowly creeping forward to hold him. “i'm sorry for hiding. i was just scared to turn you off or anything.”

“are you kidding? i'm trying my best not to hold you down and kiss you all over. i haven't even hugged you for a day,” bucky said, a pout on the verge of forming on his face.

“it hasn't even been a day, bucky. now, who's dramatic?" you said, rolling your eyes playfully. “and you're supposed to be on a mission tomorrow! are you really not going?”

“when i could be here taking care of you?” he asked, as if the answer was already obvious. “the others can handle it. my main priority is to do anything you want and make you feel better.”

“anything?”

he smiled, leaning down to let your lips meet softly. "anything."

( a lil bonus < 3 )

“what is that smell?”

sam, steve, and natasha entered the compound after a quick briefing for their mission tomorrow. they joined tony and clint who were having a casual conversation in the living room about the best burrito in town.

the kitchen was an open space, the aroma of whatever bucky was cooking spreading all around the nearby rooms.

sam didn't hesitate to come closer and inspect the kitchen, finding the entire counter lined up with various spices and plates that bucky filled with his dishes.

“what's the occasion? did i miss something?" sam asked, grabbing a fork to take a little taste until bucky slapped his hand away. "ow! what was that for?"

"hands off." bucky warned, frowning at sam. “that's not for you, wilson."

“not even a nibble? come on, man. it smells amazing!”

their usual bickering caught the attention of the other avengers, immediately joining them in the kitchen which annoyed bucky even more when he saw them eyeing the food he made.

"before any of you try to ask, no. this is not for any of you."

"who's it even for?" natasha asked, the least interested to have a taste, but was curious either way.

bucky answered with your name. "she's sick."

"what? since when?" clint asked, worry flashing across his face. "can we do anything?"

bucky glanced up before hesitantly answering. "well.. she did say she wanted to watch a movie after eating."

clint snapped his fingers and smiled. "i'm on it."

"i'll get jarvis to check on her vitals every hour and create a diagnosis," tony said, already tapping on his smart watch. "assuming she wouldn't be too comfortable letting the entire team know what's going on with her body, i'll just let you receive the updates. just update me with what you can, yeah?"

"i'll talk to fury and let you both have a week free from work," steve offered. "she needs the rest and she needs you."

"oh, i'll handle fury. he can't say no to his favourite," natasha said with a smug smile. "tell her i'll bring her all her favourite snacks once we're back from our mission, and that she better be back to full health so we can go out together."

bucky nodded, chest warming with the genuine concern they shared. he was excited to let you know how loved and deserving of all this you were.

if you have any requests for bucky, send them my way! 💌

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes x fem!reader #bucky barnes x female reader #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes fluff #marvel #mcu #inkedbybarnes

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steddiecameraroll · 6 months

Text

both POVs on ao3

Eddie comes to a skidded stop outside the sailor themed ice cream shop. His Sam Goody bag slams into his shin from the sudden movement.

“Ow, shit.” He winces but tries to ignore the pointed pain from the corner of one of his brand new tapes poking his leg, and stares ahead at what he imagines must be an illusion.

Steve The Hair Harrington has his arm deep into some chocolate looking concoction, and suddenly Eddie wants to taste it. He’s not even much of an ice cream guy but this he cannot pass up.

Like a siren’s song, the little polyester shorts the sailor man is wearing calls to Eddie. He wonders if he could slide both of his hands up through the bottom of the legs.

Eddie steps into the bright lights and his ears fill with some ridiculous theme music. He wonders if Steve has ever tried to disembowel the sound system. Eddie would help him if he wanted assistance.

“Ahoy there!”

Eddie stands back watching Steve interact with a group of old classmates. He recognizes the young women from a couple of his classes last semester. Steve’s clearly flirting with them and missing by a mile.

Eddie hates to admit, even to himself, watching Steve fumble brings a smidge of joy to his heart. He may not be delusional and think that means he has a chance with Steve, but it does give him some kind of weird twinkle of hope anyway.

Right after the gaggle of women walk away, Eddie sees Steve lower his head and bang it gently on the countertop causing his adorable little hat to slip from his head.

“Buck up sailor boy,” Eddie grabs Steve’s hat and spins it around his finger.

Steve jolts and stands up, gawking at Eddie. “Munson? What are you…that’s my hat.” Steve snatches the regulated uniform accessory from Eddie’s finger and clutches it in his hand.

Eddie lets his eyes drag down the part of Steve’s body not hidden by the countertop, before flicking back to Steve’s face.

“Love the outfit, by the way. Really finishes off the whole ambiance.” Eddie wiggles his fingers around the space emphasizing the environment.

“I know it’s ridiculous, dude. You don’t have to rub it in.” Steve puts his hand on his hip and cocks his weight onto the opposite foot.

“Oh no, you misconstrue, my good man.” Eddie leans further into his hands coming closer to Steve’s face. “If I’m rubbing anything, it wouldn’t be your uniform.”

Eddie enjoys watching a beautiful blush rush up Steve’s neck onto his cheeks, before he diverts his attention onto the display case of flavors, giving Steve a moment to collect himself.

“What do you recommend?” Eddie runs his fingertip lazily across the glass.

“Um…” Steve takes a quick breath before putting on his customer service smile. “The USS Butterscotch is a favorite or the cherry’s jubilee. What do you usually get when you eat ice cream?”

“Wanna know a secret?” Eddie playfully whispers while leaning over the case.

“Um, ok.” Steve leans in closer.

“I’m more of a salty treat kinda man,” he winks, surprising himself with the weird level of confidence he’s slipped into.

Steve furrows his brows before leaning away and nervously scratching the back of his neck. He tries to chuckle in response as if understanding what Eddie’s implying but Eddie can tell Steve has no idea what he’s talking about.

“Well, then maybe-um-a parfait? Peanut butter? Or nuts…something with nuts?”

Eddie bites on his bottom lip trying to stifle a childish giggle keeping his eyes on the naive, adorable, sailor man. When Steve’s words finally register in his brain he awkwardly swallows hard, and shuffles on his feet trying to busy himself with something behind the counter.

“I could go for some nuts.” Eddie leans on his arms over the case. “What kinda nuts do you have, Stevie?”

“Um, just- y’know- normal ones. What kind do you like?” Eddie tracks the slow swipe of Steve’s tongue across his bottom lip.

Eddie lowers his voice before responding. “I’m sure I’d like anything you give me, captain.”

“Jesus,” Steve quietly huffs. “Uh, how about our peanut butter brickle topped with our candied almonds?”

Eddie keeps his eyes on Steve tracking his awkward movements behind the counter. Steve spins his scooper mindlessly in his palm, trying to channel his nervous energy.

“Sounds delicious. I’ll have one of those. Is there a show or anything I get with my treat?”

“A show?” Steve asks while grabbing a parfait cup from the stack on the countertop.

“Was just curious if there’s some kind of song or dance you have to perform in this adorable little outfit. Y’know, like that one restaurant in Chicago, Ed Debevic’s?”

Steve scrunches his nose and slides open the glass case. “I don’t know what that is.”

“Really? It’s this 50’s diner place where the staff are dicks. Nothing? Really?”

Steve shakes his head while reaching his arm deep into the ice cream tub. Eddie lowers his face to watch Steve through the glass. He wonders how sticky Steve is at the end of a shift.

“Is there a shower back there?”

“What?”

"In the back. Was just curious if you go home sticky or not."

"Um...no, I mean yes I'm generally pretty sticky at the end of my shift, but there's no shower...in the back. There's not really anything back there. Only a table and some safety posters, a white board that Robin shames me with." He trails off and Eddie wishes he could see this white board.

"Shames you? Robin...?" He has a hunch but isn't sure.

"Buckley? From school."

"Yeaaahhh, that's what I thought. Good for her." He means it.

Steve scrunches his face while finishing off the disgustingly sweet display of tasty deliciousness.

“Anything else I can get for you?” Steve gives Eddie his best customer service smile while setting the ice cream on top of the case.

A wicked grin spreads across Eddie’s face. “Naw I’m good. Unless… there’s something available that’s not on the menu.”

Eddie knows Steve is naive. Has never once picked up on his blatant flirting over the years, or at least doesn’t let it rattle him. But this utter display of fantasy is rotting away at Eddie’s resolve, and he’s seconds away from asking to suck on Steve’s sticky fingers.

He leans in front of the register and looks up at Steve through his eyelashes.

Pretty pretty boy.

“Um,” Steve looks around the empty restaurant, and then glances at something over Eddie’s head before turning his attention back. “Y-yeah, there is actually.”

Eddie thinks maybe he’s about to choke on his tongue as he attempts to swallow, waiting for Steve to continue.

“It’s in the back. Um, in the-in the break room. Wanna see it? Maybe?”

The fluorescent lighting above makes the beautiful shade of pink Steve’s cheeks are, into a warm glow. Eddie thinks he might be hearing angels sing or maybe it’s the dumb sailor music, but whatever it is it’s definitely music to his ears.

“Yeeaaah, definitely need to see it. Maybe wanna taste it even.”

Steve’s mouth is parted prettily, making Eddie wonder if his own tongue could slide between them easily.

Steve nods and bites down on his bottom lip, while motioning Eddie to follow around the opening of the countertop.

“Cool, very cool.” Steve walks backwards keeping his eyes on Eddie.

When Eddie steps behind the counter, taking in the entire outfit, he can’t control the subtle groan that emanates from his chest.

He’s gonna fuck this sailor silly.

They reappear 17 min later to a puddle of melted peanut butter brickle, an annoyed Erica Sinclair, and a better understanding of Eddie’s love of nuts.

Steve’s POV now both POVs on ao3

coffee? ☕️🍩💕

#eluding to a bj #steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #steddie ficlet #steve x eddie #steddiecameraroll posts #my writing

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bookshelf-dust · 1 year

Text

healing

billy hargrove x gn!reader

word count: 5,445

warnings: swearing, smoking, mentions of past trauma (starcourt), slight sexual innuendos??

a/n: hi! remember when i made you do a poll for my 1k celebration? and one bed with billy won? well this is that fic! i'm sorry it took so long to get here, but school was kicking the ever loving shit out of me. anyways, i really hope you like it. it's a little different than other fics i've written, but i think that's a good thing. just for context, this is post the end of season three, with billy and hopper being okay and jopper being in full swing. i think that's all i wanted to say. thanks again for 1k followers. that's still so wild to me. i love you. and billy loves you too <333

————

November 1985

“No.”

“What do you mean no? You just fought an interdimensional being, don’t you want a vacation?”

Lucas wipes both hands down his face, flopping down on the arm of the couch beside where Max sits with El between her knees, tying off one of the two braids she’s trying to make.

“Max, can you help me? Please?” Lucas has been arguing about this for fifteen minutes.

She rolls her eyes, but looks up from her work nonetheless. “Billy.”

The man in question crosses his arms, locking eyes with the redhead. “Maxine.”

Max finishes Eleven’s braid and she hops up to join Will where he’s working on a puzzle. Joyce brought it home from work a few days ago, and it’s been spread out on a card table in the corner of the living room since then. Will couldn’t watch The Golden Girls with Joyce from the kitchen table.

“Just come with us, Billy. We all know you hate it here. It’ll give you a chance to get away for a little while.”

Except that’s not totally the truth. He doesn’t hate it here. Not with you around.

“There’s a pool.” Will looks up, a little shyly, from the puzzle, fingers flipping around a single piece. “At the place Robin found.”

Billy nods, and it’s enough to make Will smile at the acknowledgment.

It’d been Steve’s idea, after everything that happened in July. He thought everyone going on a trip together might be a good idea. Go a little ways out from home, calm down.

You and Billy started going to school, though Billy is still working. He found a job at a record store across the street from Melvald’s that opened after the mall went to shit. It definitely wasn’t his first choice, but it works. And he’s slowly fixing up the Camaro.

Steve had offered to pay for the repairs in full, considering he did most of the damage when he rammed the side of it, but Billy couldn’t handle that. So far Max has only convinced him to let Steve cover the really expensive parts. It hurts Billy more than he’d care to admit—having Steve Harrington give him money.

But he can’t lie, going somewhere away from Hawkins, even just for a couple days, sounds really nice. It’s the group part that’s bothering him. He’s still not used to everyone wanting him to tag along, but apparently major trauma brings people together.

There’s the slamming of car doors, and footsteps running up the driveway before the door swings open, Robin bursting in with a stack of movies in her arms. She’s followed by Dustin and then Steve, bags and keys being tossed every which way.

Billy doesn’t see you for a moment and starts to worry maybe you aren’t coming. He’s already supplying excuses for having to go home, but Steve left the door ajar, and after a moment, there you are.

You look sleepy, footsteps the quietest of everyone else as you carefully push the Byers’ door shut behind you. He watches as you accept a hug from Eleven, overhears her ask, “how did your test go?”

He’s happy to hear you tell her it went well. It’s only after you’ve looked at her and Will’s puzzle and snapped a few more corner pieces in that you make a beeline for the open spot on the couch beside Billy.

When you’ve settled, your knee bumps against his. “Hey.”

He looks at you, a little grin playing at the corners of his mouth. His arms are still crossed, thumb playing with the pendant resting on his chest. A chest surprisingly covered by a sweater, though the sleeves are pushed up.

“Hey. Glad your test is over?”

That sound of his voice makes you smile, and he’s never been so grateful for something, even if it’s just an expression. “Yeah.”

You glance down at the new tattoo on his arm, a dark colored snake wrapping around the skin covering his elbow. You run your thumb across the tail that flicks across his forearm, and Billy relaxes into your touch.

“You have work today?”

Billy shakes his head. You’re glad he had the day off. And you’d tell him so if it weren’t for the sudden bombardment.

Lucas is suddenly standing in front of you, having returned from the kitchen where you think he and Dustin may have been cleaning out Joyce’s fridge.

“Holy shit, thank god you’re here. I need you to convince Billy to go on vacation.”

You glance at Max, assuming she’s already tried. She looks rather annoyed. “Lucas, would you sit down?”

The boy looks at Max, and she glares at him. Clearly he knows better and sits down next to her.

“Billy doesn’t have to do anything he doesn’t want to do,” you finally say.

The man in question turns to face you. You have to lean your head back some because of how close he is.

“Are you going?” he asks, voice quiet and thick with something you don’t know that you’re supposed to notice.

“Y-yeah. I was gonna. Robin only went on about it to me for an hour over the phone last night. I just think it might be nice to get away for a little while.” Billy doesn’t break eye contact with you, and while it makes you a little nervous, it tells you he’s listening.

“And I can watch Max for you if you really don’t want to go. Just make sure she doesn’t kill Lucas or anything.” Max snorts at your response, though Lucas looks at her in panic, already calculating how best to prevent that sort of situation.

Your gaze softens and you fight the urge to reach out and run your thumb across Billy’s cheek.

Please come with us. I want you to go. I want you there, you think. But it’s not what you say. You don’t know how badly he needs to hear it.

“You really don’t have to go, Billy. Not if you don’t want to.”

“But there is enough space, man.” Steve stands behind the couch, handing El a scrunchie he retrieved from her bag. His voice is calm, informative. “If you decide to go. There’s plenty of room, and we’d be happy if you did.”

Billy could make some smartass remark. But he won’t. He knows that Steve is being honest, and that he’s not trying to be a dick. It seems that witnessing the guy who beat the shit out of you almost die not even a year after he moved to town really brings you together.

Billy gives an acknowledging nod. “I’d be very happy if you did,” Eleven says. She loves having Jonathan as an older brother, really she does, but Billy lets her play with his hair. And in her books, that really ups the scale.

He smiles at her, and El considers that a win.

You notice him shift next to you, and then he’s leaning forward to whisper in your ear. “Come with me?” He cocks his head in the direction of the door.

He gets up, assuming you’ll follow him. You always do.

When you’ve shut the door, you move to the porch swing. It’s your favorite spot out here, and Joyce says it makes her happy to see someone use it. She used to sit there with Will in the mornings after Jonathan left for school and read to him. She did the same with Jonathan, but he was a much more fidgety kid, wanting to find something else to do.

Billy lights a cigarette, and you watch where he fidgets with the ring on his middle finger.

He’s standing a little ways away from you so as to not breathe the smoke directly in your vicinity, but you wish so badly that he was closer. You like having him close. The weight of his body next to you, the warmth, how solid his arm feels when it’s pressed to yours or when he slides down on the couch some and it's more so pressed to your side.

“Which part of it are you worried about?” you ask him.

He shrugs. “You really think they want me there? You think Max wants me around?” “Billy, I know she does. And I know that voice in your head is telling you that it’s a pity invite, but it’s not. And, besides…” you trail off, but he’s not having that. He needs you to reassure him.

“Besides what?”

You look up at him. “I want you to go. And yeah, I’ll be sad if you don’t go, but that shouldn’t sway your decision either.” You push your feet against the concrete porch a little harder, and the swing responds to the movement. You move quicker, now feeling very pleased with yourself.

Billy almost laughs at the child-like look on your face, but you look so at home on the swing that he holds it in. A grin escapes nonetheless.

“Say that again.” He stubs out his cigarette in the ashtray either Hopper or Joyce have left outside. He’s watching you again.

“What?” He’s not gonna let you go all shy on him now. He needed to hear that. He needs to hear it.

“You know what.”

“I want you to go.”

“Then it’s settled. Need to get out of this shithole anyways.”

————

The place Steve found is about two hours from Hawkins, with three bedrooms, a shockingly luxurious pull-out couch, and bigger common areas than you’ve ever laid eyes on. Excluding the ones in Steve’s house. In short, the rental is like Hopper’s cabin, if Hopper’s cabin were updated and substantially larger. It feels like the kind of place rich people have to take weekend trips. You’d rather not find out how much Steve is paying for the lot of you to stay there.

Robin takes you on a grand tour while everyone else explores the backyard. Dustin is already determined to climb a tree. One of the rooms has two sets of bunk beds, dedicated to the four boys. “To ensure no cootie-spreading,” Robin proclaims.

She and Steve will share the couch, with Max and Eleven in the smaller bedroom.

Robin stops at the end of the hallway. “Which leaves…”

You and Billy.

You and Billy Hargrove.

Sharing a room.

Sharing a bed.

Speaking of, the man in question brushes past you, setting his bag on the floor at the foot of the bed. Robin takes that as her queue to leave and gives you a thumbs up on the way out. You hope she can feel your death stare on the back of her head, and she knows it, being quick to run down the hall.

“So we’re roomies, huh?” Billy says, gathering his hair at the base of his neck. You hadn’t even realized he had a tie on him, and it takes him finishing off a lazy bun to realize it’s a blue scrunchie. You have to bite your lip to keep from saying anything.

“I can sleep with Max and El, if you want. Or–”

That crease between Billy’s brows forms. “Why would you do that?”

You’ve gone all warm. You’d have to sleep in bed with him. And you sit next to him all the time, but this is different. Isn’t it?

Maybe it’s not so weird. You’re just friends. It’s like a sleepover, right?

“I don’t know, you might not want to sleep together or something.”

He cocks a brow, but you catch the double meaning of your words just in time. “You know what I mean, Billy.”

He sits on the end of the bed, and reaches out for you. You move towards him slowly, but the moment you’re within his grasp, Billy spreads his legs and grabs your waist, slotting your body between them.

“You can go if you really want to. If you think I’ve got cooties or somethin’ and you don’t wanna share a bed with me.”

You snort, and Billy drinks in the sound, knowing he’s the one that made you laugh.

“I don’t think you’ve got cooties.”

You realize in that moment that his hands haven’t left their spot on your waist, never straying anywhere else. The weight of them on you is enough to keep you focused on him, and he seems to acknowledge that.

“Then what is it?” he asks, in that low drawl you fear could get out any answer he wanted from you.

You hesitate, but say it anyway. “You don’t think it’ll be weird? Sleeping in the same bed?”

Billy fights the urge to rest his forehead against your stomach. He wants to tell you he’s wished you were in his bed on more than one occasion. Sometimes he just wishes you were there so it wouldn’t feel so cold, so he’d have someone to pull him out of his thoughts before they eat him alive altogether.

“No, I don’t think it’ll be weird.”

You nod your head, and try to move back from him.

Billy whines. “Uh uh. Nope.”

You go to put your hands on your hips, and they graze Billy’s on the way. He grabs hold of them. “You don’t want to have a sleepover with me?”

Billy’s looking up at you with those watery blue eyes, and you know this is a battle you’ll never win.

“Really?”

He lets out a breath of a laugh, and your eyes fall to his neck when he tosses his head back.

“Yeah, baby.”

Baby.

It feels like every cell in your body has been sent into overdrive, like you can’t compute a single coherent thought. All because Billy called you “baby”.

And if he’s being honest with himself, he feels the same way. He hadn’t meant to say it. It’s just that he calls you “baby” in his head all the time, and it just…happened.

“I’d love to have a sleepover with you, Hargrove.”

“Mhm. Thought so.”

This time he lets the laugh out, and it’s a beautiful sound. The kind of sound you’d commit unspeakable acts to hear again. And this time, he does let his forehead drop to rest on your stomach. It surprises you, but you’re not mad about it.

“Oh, fuck off,” you say, and you can feel his chuckle against your skin.

When he quits, you find yourself just standing there, find your hands moving around his back. He’s always so warm. You rub your hands up and down his back, the denim of his jacket rough on your fingertips.

You feel him shift, feel his change in position, the hard press of his chin against you. Billy is looking up at you, and you know he’s hoping you’ll return his gaze. His eyes bore into yours, and you hate to think of what you must look like from this angle. Clearly he doesn’t mind.

You push a curl behind his ear, a shockingly perfect ringlet that’s too short to be contained like the rest of them.

Billy would be taken aback by the gesture if it weren’t for the fact that you always go this easy on him. Like you know he’s healing, in more ways than one.

“We can’t stay here forever, you know. I wanna go look around.”

“Yeah,” he laughs. “I’m sure it’s riveting.” He lets you go anyway, following you down the hall to the rest of the cabin.

————

Your back rests on the base of an oversized chair, one that’s surprisingly comfy, your body in between Robin’s legs. She’s sitting next to Steve, watching you moderate El, Lucas, and Will play Twister. Dustin’s already out.

“Right hand blue.”

“You’re kidding right?”

“Sinclair, have you never played this game before?”

Lucas scoffs, trying to reach the blue on the other side of the mat without toppling into Will. Max went with Billy to the store, but they should be back soon. You have a sick feeling they’re taking advantage of having been given Steve’s debit card.

“Yes, I’ve played the game before. If you’re so good, why don’t you get down here and show us how it’s done, Harrington?”

“Yeah, Harrington, why don’t you show us how flexible you are?” Billy’s voice makes you look up from where you’ve been mindlessly twisting the spinner on the board around with the tip of your finger.

He stands just inside the living room, holding the door open with his leg. He kicks it shut once Max has made it in. She heaves the paper bags she’d been holding up and onto the counter. Steve rises to help unpack them. You follow on instinct, handing the spinner to Robin instead, and Dustin is quick to take Steve’s spot before Mike can.

Billy won’t let you take anything from him, but he will let you help figure out what the hell to do with all of it. “Do I even want to know how much you both spent?” you ask.

He gives you that fucking smile, and you know you don’t. “Max said she wanted to have a spa night–whatever that means–with El, so we sort of split up. I’m sure Steve’ll live.”

“For your information, Lucas,” Steve continues, clearly not ready to let the quips towards his limberness go, “I was the captain of the swim team.”

“What’s that got to do with being flexible, dingus?” Robin directs the two remaining players, the young boy in question having just busted his ass.

“Swimming is an art form, Rob. You gotta learn to respect it.”

You choke on a laugh, and Billy is quick to rub your back while he chuckles into your shoulder.

“Something funny over there?” Steve questions.

You straighten, trying to wipe the smile from your face though it’s to no avail. “Nope, Steven. I’m sure you’re just incredibly stretchy. Like Mr. Fantastic.”

His brow furrows. “Mr. Fantastic?”

Dustin snorts, elbow deep in a bag of chips, and you quickly realize that you probably shouldn’t have given him an opening, but you don’t exactly regret it either.

The lot of you spend the rest of the night in this fashion, playing games, eating way too much food, taking turns smacking the top of the television so your movie will keep playing.

It feels like home. It feels safe. You wish it always felt this way.

————

You’d just finished brushing your teeth when you hear the bedroom door click shut, hear footsteps you can tell are in search of you.

You peek your head out of the bathroom and Billy grins at the sight of you in pajamas, a smear of moisturizer on your forehead you’ve yet to rub in.

He squeezes in the small room, about the same size as his at home, to join you. There’s something about this moment, the domesticity of it, that makes your heart swell. It feels like something you could get used to, getting ready for bed with him. Neither of you have to say anything, you just do your own thing, but having him be there, having his presence–it’s more than enough for you.

When you climb into bed, you try and read for a while, the sounds of Billy washing his face comforting you. You find it easy to read even when he does get in with you, the mattress sinking underneath his weight, the sheets rustling as he moves around experimentally, trying to get comfortable in a bed that isn’t his own.

You feel odd though, reading when he’s right there, so it isn’t long before you close the book and slide further into the covers with him. Billy’s quick to turn on his side, wanting to see you like this.

He watches you yank the blankets up to your chin, looking at him over a blur of fluffy white comforter. “It’s fuckin’ freezin’ in here,” you tell him.

“C’mere then.”

You burrow further into your pillow, fearing you know exactly what he’s going to suggest. “Huh?”

“You’re cold. You always whine about me being warm or somethin’ and I’m telling you to come here.”

“Billy.”

“Stop.” He lifts the covers up some, untucking you from them, and he wraps his arm around your back, tugging you into his side.

Suddenly you’re pressed against him, having slid across the sheets easier than you’d have imagined.

He’s let go of you, his arm hovering over your back. “You want me to hold you or no?”

“Yeah.”

Billy lets his arm drop against your side, his fingers splaying out over your back. He rubs his hand up and down your spine, hoping it’ll warm you up. “This okay?”

“Yes.”

He nods. You’re looking at him like he’s something special.

Billy realizes, in that moment, that that’s how you’ve always looked at him. Even before.

He also realizes that your hands are tucked under your chin and your legs are curled up and into you like you’re afraid of making any contact with him.

“You can loosen up, you know. It’s just me.”

You let out a breath of a laugh, and he can feel it against the skin of his neck.

“It’s okay, I promise. You can touch me.” Billy has this feeling that you’re afraid of hurting him. He’s sure you’ve noticed that he’s wearing a shirt to bed, something he never did before. And he thinks that you’re worried he’ll break.

“You’re sure?”

“Wouldn’t have said so otherwise.”

He watches you unfold your hands and stretch your arm over him, hooking it around his hip. You want to rub up and down his side, but you’re nervous.

It’s just me.

“Do they hurt at all?”

Your thumb skates up a little further, and you don’t have to tell him what you mean.

“Not all the time,” he says, voice low and thick with drowsiness. “At first, yeah, like hell. Now it’s just sometimes. They can feel a little tight, or just bug me. Depends, I guess.”

You nod, feeling brave enough now to slide your hand up a little further. Your touch is light, barely there. You close your eyes, trying not to think about when it happened. How he’d screamed.

He can tell when you’ve calmed down some, because your arm relaxes and you hug him a little more firmly. You scoot in a little closer, close enough that your noses would touch if you tried to make them.

“Goodnight, Billy.”

He makes the move, dragging the tip of his nose across your forehead. He kisses the top of your head, and you grin so wide you feel like a kid in a candy shop.

“Goodnight, baby.”

————

When you wake up, you almost don’t want to disturb him, but you know you should get out of bed.

Billy is sprawled out on his stomach, having separated from you at some point during the night. His tank top is rucked up from the tossing and turning of sleep, and you look away when you catch a glimpse of pink skin. It doesn’t feel like your place to look.

You wander out of the room, carefully shutting the door behind you. You make it down the hall, and find that Robin seems to be the only other one awake. You should’ve guessed. She told you once before that her body doesn’t seem to let her sleep in.

Steve is still passed out on the pull-out couch, completely covered by the blankets. The only sign of him is a tuft of messy hair against the light colored pillow case his head rests on.

Robin waves at you from her perch at the kitchen counter, a bowl of cereal in front of her. “Want some?” she whispers, pushing the box in your direction.

You fill up your own bowl, having a feeling that Robin is about to ramble.

“Sleep okay?” she asks.

“Mhm. You?”

“Fine. Though, y’know, Steve is a horrific bed hog. Seriously, he was half on top of me the whole night. I might have to bunk with Max and El.”

You laugh, and Robin takes that as her queue to ask what she’s been pondering since she woke up.

“Was it okay? Sleeping with Billy? Well, not like that. Well, I’m assuming not like that, not that there’s anything wrong with that, but I just meant like actually sleeping? Please stop me.”

You grin at her. “Please breathe, Rob.” She does, over exaggerating her inhales. “And it was fine.”

“Okay, good. I was kind of worried you’d be frustrated with my matchmaking tendencies. I just really want you two to be happy. And he seems so calm when he’s with you, and I realize I’ve just told you that I’ve been pushing you two together and I–”

You wipe milk from your chin, having almost spit out your cereal. “Robin, sweetheart, it’s okay, I promise. I know about your matchmaking tendencies. But I think we’re just friends, right?”

“Just friends, my ass.” You hadn’t even seen Steve get up, but he’s reaching for the fridge and pulling out a carton of chocolate milk. He really can’t say anything about Dustin’s eating habits when he has the exact same diet.

“Oh my god.”

“Listen, I’m just saying, there’s been something going on between you two since before the world went to shit. I don’t know why you two tiptoe around each other like it’s not obvious that you’re in love.”

“Steve!” you exclaim. “Seriously, what the hell? I’ve been up for like twenty minutes and you two are schooling me on my love life?”

“Or lack thereof,” Robin says.

“Okay, damn. You know what, I’m going back to bed.”

Steve pushes your bowl back towards you when you attempt to get up. “No, you’re not. I’m just saying, there’s no sense in avoiding this. You both clearly feel a lot for each other, and I don’t see any reason to avoid it when you could be together.”

He’s being vulnerable with you, his big brown eyes boring into yours and trying to convey how serious he’s being.

“Just think about it, okay? There’s no harm in talking about how you feel with him. And don’t say that you don’t feel anything, because that’s a goddamn lie.”

————

Billy’s had his swim trunks on all day, but he hasn’t done more than sit in the shade by the pool while everyone else makes a mess and plays ridiculous games in the water.

It’s killing him to watch you in there from time to time, swimming around or sitting in the shallow end. You told him once that swimming calms you down.

It’s not until after dinner, when everyone has moved inside for the most part, though there seems to be the plotting of a water balloon fight out front, that he’s brave enough to head for the pool.

You follow him out there, see him contemplating the water.

“Whatcha doin’?”

Billy drops the cigarette he’d been smoking, snubbing it out. “Thought about going for a swim,” he tells you.

“That sounds nice.”

“Mhm.”

“I can go back inside, if you want.”

Billy turns to face you. “No. No, I want you to stay.” He wants you to see. He can’t explain why, but he does.

“Okay.”

He takes a shaky breath, hoping you don’t catch it. You do. You always do.

“I just…wasn’t ready for everyone to see.”

“I understand, Billy.”

You know what he’s really saying. He wasn’t ready for everyone to see. But he’s ready for you to see.

“I can get in first, if that helps. And I won’t look if you don’t want me to,” you say.

“That helps, yeah. And you can look. It’s okay.”

He watches you wade in, watches the way your swimsuit changes color as you tread water.

Billy takes another deep breath, and he’s pulling his shirt off. He’s quick though, diving straight into the deep end, knowing he needs to get it over with.

When he comes up, his hair is sticking to his forehead, and he flips it out of the way, giving you a glimpse of the broad pink scar on his chest.

He meets you halfway, and you think he’s in a serious mood until he’s splashing you like a child.

“You motherfucker!”

You get him back, and he’s laughing.

Billy is laughing and he looks so pretty in the last of the day’s sunlight, beads of water sliding over his collarbones and down his arms, and you feel like you could die. Like seeing him this way is enough. You don’t need anything else.

You try to return a particularly aggressive splash, but he catches your waist, pulling you up and over his shoulder.

“Billy!”

“What?” His voice is teasing. He tosses the rest of the way over, your laughter fading out into the water.

You come up, a brilliant smile on his face. Billy’s sure if you stood close enough you’d be able to hear his heart beating.

When you’ve both gone quiet, your eyes drop to the scars on his sides, the way they stretch across his skin, mean and twisting. Some spots are darker than others, and while it hurts you to look at them, you know it must hurt him even more. But he looks just as beautiful as before, if not increasingly so.

“See something you like?” Billy says it on instinct. To hide the fact that he’s worried you don’t really like it. That maybe you think he’s gross looking. But he knows that’s all in his head. He fucking knows it.

“You’re fucking gorgeous, Billy Hargrove.”

You say it with such surety, such admiration, that he can’t even begin to doubt that you mean it.

He smiles at you. It’s boyish. You’d do anything to see a million more of them.

He moves towards you, the sky having darkened enough that the outside lights have come on, the lights in the pool too. All that remains of the sun is a slash of deep orange, though the night quickly pushes it away.

Billy’s got you backed up against the wall of the pool now. His hands find your sides.

It’s overwhelming, having him this close. You can feel his breath on your face, see the rise and fall of his chest, the freckles on his cheeks.

When he kisses you, you think your heart stops. His mouth is warm against yours, and he tastes a little like chlorine, but you don’t care. Your hands find his face, and you’re smiling so hard that he pulls away because he wants to see. You don’t let him for long though, pulling him back, wanting more. He laughs into your mouth, and your chest aches with this feeling.

Eventually you do let go, and when you hold his eye contact, he knows what you’re going to say. He needs to tell you first, though.

“I’m in love with you, you know.”

“I know,” you respond.

He tosses his head back in a laugh, and you press a sweet kiss to his throat.

“I’m in love with you too, Billy.”

“Damn right you are.”

You snort against his chest, lowering slightly to kiss his scar. His breath catches. He doesn’t know what he did to deserve you.

“About fucking time!” Steve’s shouting and Robin is yelling, and Max would be making barf sounds if she wasn’t so pleased with seeing her brother so happy.

“So much for that,” Billy says.

But you wouldn’t have it any other way.

————

“I’m regretting this, Billy.”

“Stop whining.”

Billy wraps his arms tighter around your back, pressing a kiss to your jaw in hopes that you’ll let him keep doing this.

“Get off.”

“No.”

“Get off, please.”

“Make me.”

There’s the sound of a slap, your hand having met his ass.

He raises his head from where he’d buried it in your chest, looking at you drowsily. “You just spanked me.”

And you’d do it again.

“Didn’t work, did it?”

“No. Shut up and take it.”

By that he means continue letting him lay on top of you, his entire body pressed to yours. It doesn’t matter to him that there’s an entire bed, one that’s made for two people.

You settle for playing with his hair, something he seems to enjoy, and you’d mess with him about the fact that he’s essentially purring if it weren’t for him looking so content.

He might be heavy, but having Billy Hargrove sleep on top of you isn’t exactly something you just give up.

He’s never had this before.

Hell, you’ve never had this before.

And he thinks it’s healing him. More than the salve he puts on his scars, or the physical therapy, or fixing up the Camaro.

You’re healing him. You.

————

please let me know if you liked this! feedback is always appreciated!! comments and reblogs mean more than you know. <33

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steddieas-shegoes · 1 month

Text

fooling ourselves

for @steddiemicrofic prompt 'fool' (don't you worry folks, i plan on being a fool and doing the silly prompt too)

454 words | rated t | no cw | tags: mutual pining, idiots to lovers, first kiss

🤡🤡🤡🤡🤡🤡🤡🤡🤡🤡🤡🤡

Steve was fooling everyone.

At least, he hoped he was.

He might be failing.

Steve practically begged for time alone with Eddie. It was embarrassing.

It's just that in the group, Eddie was loud, put on the same show he always did at school, in the hospital when he was recovering and trying to keep smiles on everyone's faces. He fooled everyone except Steve.

When they were alone, Eddie was more reserved, thoughtful, touched him more.

Steve was touch starved, okay? Every time Eddie placed his hand on his knee or ran a hand through his hair, it was like an electric shock jolted his body to attention.

He wasn't looking further into it.

Except for when he did, which was nearly every night over the last two weeks, right after Eddie had told him that he started seeing someone in Indy.

In the moment, he congratulated him, asked a few polite questions that any friend would, and found a reason to go home.

He'd avoided being alone with Eddie ever since.

Actually, he'd avoided Eddie entirely until today.

The kids were having a movie night and attendance was mandatory.

The movie was scary, something he knew he couldn't watch, but showed up for anyway. Robin made an excuse for him to sit outside, said he'd been dealing with a migraine all day and the flashing on the screen wasn't helping.

He owed her.

The Henderson home had a small back porch, but it was the perfect place for him to sit and get some fresh air, clear his mind from the thought of Eddie sitting inside. He'd been with Frankie all day.

That got shut down, but probably wouldn't be for much longer, not if they got serious.

"You okay out here? Need a drink?" Eddie's voice shocked him from his thoughts.

"Huh? Oh. I'm fine."

"Robin wanted me to come check on you. Said you wanted to talk to me?" Eddie sat down next to him on the back step.

"She did?" He apparently had not fooled Robin.

Eddie nodded.

"Oh. I'm good."

"Really? So you wouldn't care if I said I'm not seeing Frankie anymore?"

Steve turned to see a shit-eating grin on Eddie's face.

"You aren't?"

"Nah. I think I liked the idea of having a boyfriend more than I liked him."

"Oh."

"I think I was really just trying to move on from someone else."

"Oh?"

"Yeah, kinda failed at fooling myself, though."

Eddie's hand settled on Steve's thigh.

"How's that?" Steve asked.

"This guy I like, he's kinda new to this. I finally realized I'd have to be the one to make a move."

"Yeah?"

Eddie's answer was a soft kiss to his lips and a whispered, "yeah."

#steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #stranger things #steddiemicrofic #steddiemicroficapril #mutual pining #idiots to lovers #first kiss

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rogueddie · 1 year

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996 hours, 39 minutes and 12 seconds.

Gareth has had enough. It's been long enough. He's sick and tired of waiting- he's taking matters into his own hands. He can't wait any longer. It'll kill him.

"Oh, hey," Steve looks surprised when he opens the door. "Gareth. Uh, what are you-?"

"Are you home alone?"

"What? Yeah, but-"

He grabs Steve by the shoulders, turning him around and directing him into his house, kicking the door shut behind him. He walks them all the way to the kitchen and nudges Steve into one of the seats.

Gareth sits across from him, narrowing his eyes. "Are you a homophobe?"

"What? No!" Steve looks deeply offended at the question, before a more curious, understanding look takes over. "Wait, are you-?"

"No, I just need to make sure you're safe. You don't have a problem with any of that?"

"No, I don't. I'm not an asshole- not anymore, anyway."

Gareth glances at the clock.

996 hours, 42 minutes, 08 seconds.

"Alright... do you like Eddie?"

"What?"

"Eddie Munson. Do. You. Like. Him."

"That- I don't- what- what does that have to- to do with, like, anything?" Steve flushes, shifting uncomfortably.

That's a yes, Gareth thinks, nodding to himself.

"I'm going to send him over here in, like... two, maybe three, hours. He likes horror movies, salted popcorn and diet coke."

"I don't know what you mean."

Gareth sighs, rubbing his head as he glances at the clock again.

996 hours, 42 minutes, 58 seconds.

"I can't deal with his stupid pining anymore," he grabs Steves hands, giving him his best pleading look, hoping his desperation shows. "Just... try one date. Please, for the love of God, I won't survive another day listening to him ranting about your hair."

"What? Wait... does- does he... like me?"

Steves voice is so quiet, timid, it nearly makes Gareth falter. It sounds so much like his little sister, when she lets the cruel shit other kids say get to her.

"Don't let him know I told you, but... yeah. Yeah, Steve, he really likes you."

"Oh."

Gareth can't help but laugh at how starstruck he looks, eyes so wide and awed.

"Wait, what- what does he say about me? You said... my hair?"

"Alright, I'm taking that as a yes," Gareth quickly gets up, waving off Steves excited questions. "Two to three hours, Harrington!"

1,002 hours, 34 minutes, 58 seconds.

Eddie shoves Gareth out the way as soon as he opens the door, immediately starting to pace in his living room.

"You alright?"

"No!" Eddie screeches, eyes almost as wild as his hair. "Steve kissed me!"

"What? Dude, that's great!"

"I know! I just- fuck, I have to thank you for giving him the heads up that I was on the way with his VHS," Eddie grabs both of his hands. "He set up a pillow fort so we could watch Nightmare on Elm Street together. Gar, the movie scared him but he put it on because I like it and... fuck."

"So, it went well?"

"It was amazing."

They sit together, Eddie walking him through every little detail of their date. It just further proves that Steve more than earnt his romantic reputation.

It's also a relief to finally hear Eddie talking with so much joy, and love. Even just talking about Steve, he has a look like he thinks he hung the moon. His own personal sun.

"Hey," Gareth interrupts. "Congrats, man. You deserve this."

#stranger things #steve harrington #eddie munson #steddie #gareth my beloved #steddie fic #ficlet #alittlelaughtime

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starrystevie · 1 year

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"i need a favor."

it's simple enough for steve to hear even over the loud music in the club, and it definitely grabs his attention away from where he was staring blankly into the dancing crowd. he pulls his eyes to the person standing in front of him, gaze trailing over their form before settling on their face. he's cute, steve thinks, with his curly dark hair and big brown eyes that he could see himself getting lost in. he's cute enough for steve to listen to whatever favor he could possibly need.

"umm, hello to you too?" steve says it like a question, his eyebrows quirked up and a smile pulling at one side of his mouth. "what kind of favor might that be?"

the stranger smiles and sits in the seat next to steve, setting his beer on the table beside steve's nearly finished jack and coke. he's closer than he was before and steve can appreciate his face even better this way.

"it's my ex. you see," the stranger slings an arm around the back of steve's chair, pulls himself close so that he isn't having to scream as loudly over the booming club beats. "he's here and i knew it would be stupid to think i wouldn't run into him in the only queer club around, yet here he is. and here i am."

"is there supposed to be a favor in there somewhere?"

the stranger grins and steve suddenly gets the feeling he's a bird who's been cornered by a cat.

"well, i was hoping you might be able to help me. he knows i have a... weakness for pretty boys and you just happen to be the prettiest one here."

steve's heart thumps in his chest, strong and impatient as he watches the neon lights flash off this guy's teeth. he always thought he was the smooth one with all his charm and charisma, but this stranger was sitting next to steve like it was any other day and not like he had the possibility to turn his world upside down.

"help you how?"

the stranger's grin grew wider and his eyes not so subtly flicked down to watch steve's lips. "kissing would be a good start, then letting me drag you to the dance floor so he could see us. and maybe if you're feeling a little crazy, we leave together, make it seem like you're coming home with me. he's watching us right now, you know?"

steve gives him a blank stare as he tries to not let it show just how much fun he thinks it all could be. he's there alone, anyway, trying to drown his loneliness in his friend jack daniels, so what's stopping him from playing a little bit of pretend?

"and what's in it for me?" is what steve finally gets out, his breath stuttering minutely in his chest when he feels a palm cover his leg.

"what do you want?" the fingers squeeze around his knee.

it makes steve stop and think for a moment. he thinks long and hard about material things like at least 3 drinks bought for him or dinner after they escape together or paying his cover so they can get in to the bar down the road that plays shitty music but has a good atmosphere. but there's one thing steve could really use, something he doesn't get the chance for, something that this random guy's money wouldn't have to cover.

"an adventure."

there's no way to tell who moves first, whether it was steve fisting his hand into the guy's hair to close the distance between them or if it was the firm pull on his leg that turns him towards the stranger. it's messy, right off the bat, with a tongue pressing insistently against steve's lips that he's happy to meet with his own. the hand on his leg is a grounding touch that keeps steve from floating away, warm and strong and there.

the man's other hand wraps awkwardly around to rest on steve's waist as to bring him in closer and the force of it has steve stumbling out of chair and settling instead on the guy's lap. two hands wrap around his waist now and his own go back into the guy's hair, threading through the stands and holding on firmly.

"okay yeah, you were definitely the right choice for this, holy shit," the guy breaks away to catch his breath and grin at steve who sends him a grin in return. "you are so..."

he doesn't finish, lets his lips say the words he couldn't as he connects them with steve's once more. it's hot, both in temperature and otherwise. steve can feel a bead of sweat start to roll down his back as they kiss and roll against each other for lord knows how long. one of the stranger's hands comes to rest just above steve's ass and it has him pushing back into the touch before he can tell himself to stop.

"dance. we uhh," steve says breathlessly as he pulls away from the man. his eyes are hooded and his lips are slick and kissed red, the flush on his face visible even under the dark club lights. steve thinks he might already be a little bit in love. "you said we have to dance."

the hand that was trailing down to his ass makes its way to it's destination and presses firmly, so steve follows, lets himself be manhandled until they're sitting chest pressed to heaving chest.

"sorry sweetheart, you aren't moving anywhere just quite yet."

lips connect to his jaw and it feels like it's exactly where he's supposed to be. steve pushes into the man's space, gets them as close as possible to savor the moment. he doesn't get to have fun, not much anymore at least, with his job keeping him so busy he hardly even gets to see his friends. it's nice to push every real life responsibility to the side and be in the moment with a random man from a club.

"so what does he look like, your ex?" steve mummers against his ear, low and sultry. "is he looking at us now?"

he feels the man chuckle against him before kissing his way up his neck. "he's pretty standard looking, don't think i could describe him to you if i tried."

"okay but," he's cut off by lips pressing quickly onto his own before steve pulls away once more. "i need to know who i'm putting a show on for."

the man sighs, rests his forehead against steve's collarbone for a beat before biting at it playfully. "let's just say you're putting on a great show regardless of who it's for."

steve pulls back even further, watching the man roll his eyes as he tries to follow him with his mouth. "and i thank you for that, but really, where is he?"

the man pauses and every bit of confidence that was on his face melts away until he looks younger, looks almost nervous. he sighs again and drops his hands from where they were kneading into steve's sides before running them through his hair with a sad sounding chuckle.

"he's nowhere."

now it's steve's turn to pause. his thighs that were clenched so tightly around the man's legs release and he slumps down with a frown pulling at his mouth and arms crossing over his chest.

"explain."

"i just," the man winces, face crinkling up before settling back into something more neutral. "you're like insanely hot, which i'm sure you know, and i needed something so i could talk to you so-"

"so you lied? there's no ex?"

"... there's no ex."

steve's done more thinking in the last 30 minutes than he expected to in the entire evening. he didn't come out to a gay bar to think about anything and yet here is, contemplating a fucking pros and cons list about where to go from there. does he yell, punch him for lying, storm out and end up back home all alone in a empty apartment? it would serve the guy right, letting him stew in his guilt for lying so he could make out with someone.

"i'm steve," he says after making up his mind, hand extended out in front of him.

the stranger grabs it shyly, shaking his hand up and down slowly while he stares at steve. "i'm eddie?"

"is that a question?"

"no, i'm just-" he cuts himself off and shakes his head as if to clear it, pinning steve with a confused glare. "you're not mad?"

"mad, no. at least i don't think so. confused as to why you think you couldn't just talk to me, yeah."

the man, eddie, runs a hand down his face and pulls it away with a cheeky grin that makes steve smile at him back. "i'm sure you've looked in a mirror! you know why i couldn't just talk to you!"

it has steve laughing, full belly ache inducing laughing, in eddie's lap in a gay bar on a night that he planned to waste by being drowned in self-pity. he doesn't think he's ever had a weirder night and it's funny. he lifts his leg and stands up, watching the smile disappear from eddie's face to be replaced with a frown. he reaches down and grabs eddie's hand, pulling him to his feet and watching a beautiful smile spread back across the other man's face.

they're the same height, he realizes, as he presses his mouth to eddie's ear.

"i think you owe me a dance. and," he pauses, looks eddie in the eye and lets his hand travel to eddie's ass to pull them as close as possible. "-an adventure."

#steddie #steddie headcanon #yes i did just waste too much time at work writing this don't tell my boss #steve harrington #eddie munson #my writing #steddie drabble #steddie fic #this is i think my first kind of delve into modern steddie so may have to do it again #mayhaps this will have a spicy sequel who knows #steddie ficlet #1k #2k #3k #4k

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lovebugism · 2 months

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hi! can i request shy/innocent reader who blushes at any sex talk, but one day she shows up covered in hickies that she didn’t notice and eddie, robin and the gang are grilling her trying to find out who shes with and steve’s just standing in the corner like🧍‍♂️

ty for requesting :D — the gang finds a hickey on you during movie night (shy!fem!r, fluff, 1.3k)

Slasher films, Eddie tells you, are just excuses to make the goriest, raunchiest movies known to man. But that’s why they’re so good! he exclaims like a giddy teenage boy before sliding the bulky VHS into the tape player.

Your stomach’s been in knots about it since. You’re made of something more delicate than that — not particularly built for gruesome horror — but you swallow down your worrying anyway.

Robin’s smacking on gummy worms at your feet, Eddie hasn’t stopped smiling since he sat down beside you, and Steve’s got one toned arm wrapped tightly around your shoulder. The combination of familiarity takes your mind off the whole thing when you threaten to scare yourself about it.

A half-hour in, and the scariest thing you’ve seen so far, is an overtly theatric sex scene. You only get a glimpse of the static nudity before a clammy, ringed hand splays itself over your eyes. It doesn’t save you from the high-pitched squealing and gruff moans, though, so you’re not entirely sure it’s doing much.

“What are you doing?” you ask Eddie through quiet giggles.

“This shit’s gross,” he answers, muffled through the candy in his cheek. “You don’t need to be watchin’ stuff like this.”

Your brows furrow beneath his palm. “I’m not a child, Eds.”

“Yeah, but you’re too pure! I wouldn’t feel right if I just let you watch it!”

Steve returns from the kitchen then, with a bowl of refilled popcorn in hand. He scoops a handful into his mouth and scolds through the mouthful. “Eddie. Leave her alone.”

The pale hand slips from your face when the scene ends — the climax sufficiently interrupted by a serial killing, chainsaw weilding psycho. The wild-haired boy scoffs. “Jeez! Sorry for trying to take care of your girlfriend, Harrington!”

“I do that on my own. I don’t need your help, freak,” Steve retorts, unthinking, before plopping down beside you and shoveling another handful of popcorn into his mouth.

All three of you glance at him with unwavering stares. He blinks back at you for a moment until the realization hits him. Rolling his chocolate eyes, he grouses, “Not like that, you pervs.”

Eddie grins. “Oh, so it’s not like that, then?” he wonders in a teasing lilt.

“Well,” Steve shrugs, trying and failing to hide his smirk. “I mean, obviously it is, but—”

“Steve…” you waver in an inaudible whine, shrinking back into the couch, hoping it’ll swallow you whole.

The boy seems confused by your sudden sheepishness. He’s never been shy about anything in his life. “I’m just saying!” he chuckles. “I’m your boyfriend. I take care of you. That’s, like, my whole job… One that I do very well, might I add.”

Robin grumbles while Steve and Eddie laugh like a couple of teenage boys. She rises from her comfy spot on the carpet and reaches for your hand. She pulls you into the kitchen behind her and calls to them over her shoulder. “You guys are such freaks, you know that?”

——————

Tired and slightly tipsy, you stand with Steve on his back porch. A cigarette hangs loosely from his plush lips. His chiseled jaw tightens every time he takes a drag. The sight of him is impossible to look away from.

“You don’t think I take care of you?” he blurts before blowing smoke from his mouth. The wisps disappear beneath the starry velvet sky.

“Huh?”

“Earlier. When Eddie was making that stupid joke,” the boy explains, snuffing the cig out in the ashtray on the railing. He glances at you with sparkling honey eyes, half beneath his lashes, before turning away again. Almost shy. “I said it was my job to take care of you or whatever, and you just… Kinda grumbled about it. Like you don’t think I do or something.”

Your chest stings.

“Of course you do!” you answer sheepishly. “It’s just… hard for me to talk about, I guess. In front of Eddie and Robin and everything…”

“Oh,” he hums, nodding with his pink lips softly pouted. When the realization passes, he bites back a bashful beam. “So… you do think I take care of you, then?”

You roll your eyes, still impossibly shy. You know that he knows that answer now — he just wants to hear you say it. “Obviously…” you murmur with a quiet smile you try hard to keep hidden.

“Good,” he says to himself, nodding like he’s proud. “That’s good…”

You’re not sure how, but you end up squished between his body and the deck railing in record time. Steve kisses the breath from your lungs with lips tasting of nicotine, cola, and sour candy. His golden hands dig into your hips while his mouth trails to your jaw.

You twist your hands in the strands of his silky chestnut hair as his plush lips lock with your thrumming pulse. A sigh spills from your mouth at the tingling feeling — warm and wet, then stinging for a moment. Steve runs his tongue over the bruise he left there.

“Don’t leave a mark,” you scold in a slurred whine.

His chuckle fans across your neck before he parts from you. The lovebite is hardly noticeable now, just beginning to blossom beneath your jaw. “I think it might be a little too late for that, babe,” he teases with lidded eyes.

The backdoor slides open before Steve can kiss you again. Eddie stumbles out with a cigarette hanging between his lips. Robin nearly runs into the back of him when the boy stops suddenly in his tracks. His chocolate eyes flit between the two of you, now separated and trying to play it cool.

“…Are we interrupting something?” he murmurs through the stick in his mouth.

Steve shrugs and puts his hands on his hips, so not cool. “What? No. What are you— What are you even doing out here?”

The lighter clicks. “…Smoking?”

He glances at Robin, then. Her ocean eyes widen as she shrugs. “I just didn’t wanna be left out,” she murmurs in an answer to his silent question.

“Fair enough.”

Eddie squeezes between you and Steve, clumsy and unknowing. He glances at you innocently once, then again with suspicious, squinted eyes. “Is that a bruise?” he wonders before turning away to exhale the smoke from his lungs.

Your chest wrenches. “Huh?” you hum with pinched brows.

“You have a bruise on your neck,” he tells you, pointing a ringed finger to the blooming mark Steve left some minutes ago now. “What happened?”

He says it like he’s concerned. Like he’s worried something had happened to you. The possibility of it being a hickey doesn’t even cross his mind — ‘cause you’re just too pure for that.

You shrug and start to stammer, somehow less cool than the overtly uncasual boy on Eddie’s other side. “I don’t know. It’s probably just... The lighting or something.”

His fluffy brows pinch together as his eyes dart over your face. You’re visibly flustered, lips softly swollen and shining with spit. He looks at Steve next and finds the boy looking much of the same. Only then does he realize what he’s interrupted.

“Eugh!” he groans in disgust, features screwed-up and puppylike.

Steve fights back a laugh. “What?!”

“You guys are a bunch of dirtbags!” Eddie shouts.

“It’s just a hickey, Eds,” the brunette boy says, chuckling before he can help it. “It’s okay. Calm down.”

“Absolutely harlot behavior. Both of you,” he chides, shaking his head until his wild curls sway around his jaw. While the rest of you laugh, he grumbles. “I don’t even feel like smoking now. You guys just ruined this cig for me.”

The three of you blink at him when he takes another drag. It takes him a moment too long to register the stares. When he does, he spreads his palms in defense and mumbles through the stick. “Well, I’m not gonna waste it!”

#published by bug #steve harrington x reader #stranger things x reader #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington x you #stranger things #steve harrington #steve harrington imagine #stranger things imagine #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things fic #stranger things fanfic #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington fanfiction #steve harrington fic #steve harrington fanfic #st drabbles #stevie drabble

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strangersteddierthings · 11 months

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I love a good S3 Steddie AU so—

Eddie and Robin were friends in high school, and every time they needed cover they would pretend to be dating.

So she starts working at Scoops, sees Steve not knowing he’s different now, and as a defense mechanism tells him about her “boyfriend”

Then they become buds but she still doesn’t correct the record, because she would have to explain why she lied

So Eddie comes into the shop and she’s like “That’s him!” and Steve is “🥺”

Because he and Eddie have been dating for months

THE SCREAM I SCRUMPT AT THAT LAST LINE NONNY. This story starts on July 1st (S3E3), so after they've cracked the Russian code.

It takes a full month of working at Scoops to get Robin to be more chill around him. He gets it. He was never outright mean to her but he was a dick in high school and his reputation lingers.

He's happy now that she's graduated from quietly distrusting him to outright teasing him. He's pretty sure it means they're friends now, or something like it. She even made that white board to mock his inability to flirt a few weeks ago. He knows he'll never get a tally in the You Rule category because he's not actually trying to flirt with anyone, what with him having a boyfriend of his own. Not that he can brag about his boyfriend as much as Robin brags about her boyfriend.

And, Jesus, did she brag at first. Steve had been convinced it was a new romance, and therefore she was still in the honeymoon phase, except she said they'd been dating since she was a freshman. With senior year starting for her in September, Steve's a little jealous.

He hopes that he and Eddie never leave their honeymoon phase. It's only been three months, and Steve's in awe that Eddie even bothered to look his way after how he'd been in school. Still in awe that Eddie wants more with Steve than just the physical. That Eddie wants cuddles during a movie, and sappy hand holding while they just chat, and to hold Steve after a nightmare on the rare occasion they get to share a bed through the night.

Anyway, the point. Robin is something of a friend and Steve's pleased about it. They have to be friends now, right? They cracked a Russian code together! (Steve refuses to give Dustin any credit for their official jump into friendship even though they wouldn't have had a Russian code to crack without him.)

"Are you and the Boy going to do anything for the Fourth?" Steve asks apropos nothing after handing off a banana split, leaving no more customers to help currently. He's a little ashamed to admit that he doesn't remember the name of her boyfriend. He's sure she said it at some point, so he's blaming his shit memory for that. But she just refers to him as the Boy, and doesn't find it weird that Steve does, too, so he'll take the win.

"Oh, uh, we haven't really discussed it. I'm scheduled closing on the Fourth so," Robin shrugs.

"We'll be in misery together," Steve says.

"Joy."

It's times like these, where Robin is so deadpan Steve can't tell if she's joking or not. Like maybe they aren't the budding friends Steve thinks they are. She's tough to read, sometimes.

"Well, even with the closing shift, there's still a lot of night left. Great time for fireworks."

"True. I'm sure The Boy is thinking up something as we speak. He likes to surprise me."

Steve's not jealous. He's not. He knows that Eddie would surprise him if they didn't have to be so secret about it all.

They do have plans for after Steve gets off work on the Fourth to go to the carnival. It's not strange for friends to go together. Maybe Steve can convince Robin come and to bring the Boy and they can just be a group of friends hanging out?

"Well, if he hasn't planned anything, maybe you and he will want to come hang out at the carnival? I'm going with a friend, maybe we'd see each other."

Robin levels him with a look, eyes squinted in judgement. "Your friends, the children?"

"I have more friends than just children!"

"I literally do not believe you. Why don't any of your age appropriate friends come bother you here, like all those kids?"

It's a valid question, Steve can concede. "That's because I do not want him to see me in this uniform. I will never live it down."

Robin raises an eyebrow. "Does he even know you work here?"

"Absolutely not. So if you do bump into us at the carnival, you are not allowed to say our place of employment. I'm serious, Robin. This will ruin me. You can say 'the mall' because that's all I'll say about it."

Robin's grin turns mischievous. "So, what I'm hearing is, I have blackmail material against the Steve Harrington?"

Steve groans. She's joking. He's like... 80% sure she's joking. He makes a mental note to ask Eddie if he knows Robin.

"Oh shit!" Robin calls out, surprised but delighted. Steve whips his head to her, and sees she's looking out the front door and through a sea of people.

"What, is it Dustin? Russians?" Steve joins her side quickly trying to see what she sees.

"No, it's-" she cuts herself off and Steve turns his head to look at her, only to find she's already looking at him. "It's my boyfriend. I don't think he's seen me yet. Want to meet him if he comes in?"

"Hell yeah I do. I need to meet the man you won't shut up about," Steve grins at her before turning his attention back to the people. His eyes scan over all of them, trying to figure out which guy looks like he might be Robin's boyfriend. Which, yes, he knows isn't something you can judge based on looks (he and Eddie are a prime example) but still.

And speaking of Eddie- no! No no! He'll never hear the end of it if Eddie sees the stupid sailor outfit. Eddie hasn't spotted him yet, so Steve slides around Robin to be out of eyesight. "You see him?"

"Yeah, he's- oh! I think he's seen me. He's coming this way," almost as an after thought, she adds, "do you remember Eddie Munson?"

Play it cool, Steve. "Uh... yes. Why? Is he coming this way? I thought I saw him out there..." Way to play it cool. If Robin didn't seem so hyped to be seeing her boyfriend, she would absolutely be questioning him.

"Oh. Well, he's my boyfriend, and yes he is."

Steve feels the floor fall out from under him.

The whole world shifts and Steve cannot stay here. He thinks he says something about a bathroom break before ducking into the employees only door, and then his body moves him further still until he's through several other doors and suddenly outside in the heat of the day.

Do you remember Eddie Munson? Well, he's my boyfriend.

He doesn't know what to do with that. Doesn't know how to process it. How to proceed. Eddie is- but he can't- this can't be real. This is a crazy dream, brought on by thoughts of Russians and codes and leftover Upside Down bullshit and he will be waking up anytime now to get ready for work.

Eddie Munson. He's my boyfriend.

He can't be your boyfriend Steve wants to scream. He can't be your boyfriend because he's mine.

Maybe... Maybe it's turning out to be that while Eddie is his boyfriend, he's not Eddie's. Maybe Eddie's never thought of him as a boyfriend.

Every instance runs through his head; all the times Eddie wouldn't stay the night. All the times Eddie told him he couldn't stay at the trailer. Is Eddie actually even in a band or is band practice just a convenient lie that keeps him from having to see Steve while still keeping him in his back pocket?

All the hiding, and the let's keep this just to us for now, and how wonderfully convenient it is that this needs to, has to, be a secret when you're in a queer relationship in a small town.

Steve's a goddman idiot!

Of course, Eddie has a girlfriend. Of course, he agreed to 'see where this thing goes.' This is why Eddie bothered to even look his direction. Because there's no scenario where Steve comes out okay. He can't even tell Robin her boyfriend isn't the fucking golden, perfect boy she brags about because how does he do that without telling her how he knows?

All the worst case scenarios play in his mind. Robin being in on it. Her and Eddie laughing at him behind his back, waiting for the right time to publicly out him. To get whatever revenge they think he owes to them for all his dick behavior in school. His whole relationship being a joke.

He lets out a yell and whips around to punch the wall next to the employee entrance door. The pain grounds him almost immediately and that yell turns into a chokes off sob, his eyes squeezing shut as he leans in to rest his forehead against the wall and take a shuddering breath.

There's no way Robin is in on this. And it was mean of him to think so. If Steve's just been some sort of experiment to Eddie, then that's on Eddie.

And Steve. For being stupid enough to believe anyone would actually be interested in him. For taking one look at Eddie's stupid dimpled smile and tripping over himself to do everything in his power to see it again. For fucking falling in love too fast, too soon, and not asking enough fucking questions and-

Oh.

That's why this hurts so much. That's why he didn't stick around to watch Eddie sweat at seeing his long-term girlfriend and- and whatever the fuck he thought Steve was working together and getting caught in whatever fuckery he's doing.

Steve's gone a fallen in love with the asshole.

He pushes off the wall, takes a deep breath to steel himself, and makes a decision. He's going to confront Eddie on the Fourth, since that's the next day they'll see each other. He'll tell him they're done, and that Eddie needs to come clean to Robin about what he's done, or he will. She deserves to know, and Steve can deal with the consequences.

When he returns the Scoops, there's no sign of Eddie, but Dustin is there.

(What Steve doesn't know is that Robin and Eddie hugged in greeting. Robin asked what he was up to. Eddie told her he was searching for his boyfriend. He works at the mall and Eddie wants to surprise him. Robin doesn't ask who he's looking for, and Eddie doesn't offer, because they both know the importance of coming out on your own terms and in your own time. Robin does ask if he's happy, and Eddie says he didn't know he could be this happy.)

Of course, what follows that is a series of terrible events that result in being stuck in an elevator, captured and tortured by Russians, drugged, and then rescued.

He and Robin end up in a bathroom, puking up their guts, and Robin says, in a Russian accent, "Interrogate me."

Steve chuckles and replies, "Okay. Interrogate you. Sure. Um... when was the last time you peed your pants?"

"Today."

"What?"

"When the Russian doctor took out the bone saw. It was just a little bit, though."

She laughs and he groans. It's definitely still in her system.

"Okay. My turn."

"Hit me."

"Have you..." she starts, leaving a pause as she thinks of what to ask, before ending with, "ever been in love?"

And Steve, horrifyingly, mortifyingly, just starts to cry. He can normally reign this in, has better control than this, but whatever drug is still in his system robs him of that.

In another universe, where Steve is able to control himself, he'd lie. He'd describe Robin, knowing she's happily taken, maybe slide himself under the partition between their stalls so she can reject him to his face, and they can laugh it off, solidifying their friendship.

But that's not what happens.

What happens instead is this: Robin, who does not slide herself across the floor but instead hauls herself upright to stumble around the partition, kneels in front of him as Steve lets out hiccupping sobs in between saying embarrassing things like yes and they don't love me back, they never love me back.

And Robin. Sweet, wonderful Robin, to whom he has been the other person in her years long relationship, tugs his arm until he's no longer hugging the toilet and is instead cradled by Robin. And she hums and assures him that whoever doesn't love him is an idiot and it makes Steve sob harder because she doesn't know and when she learns she's going to hate him.

He cannot let her continue to comfort him while he's crying about her boyfriend. It is with that sobering thought that he's able to win his war against whatever he's been injected with and stop his tears. Just in time, too, because Dustin and Erica find them, and then the Russians do, but so does El and the others.

The world is nothing but Upside Down terror for hours.

When the dust settles, Hopper is dead, and so is Billy, and Steve is sat in the back of an ambulance, hugging Robin around her shoulders as they both look out into the parking lot with matching thousand-yard stares. They've been looked over and deemed okay to go home, so Steve is just waiting for the government men currently raiding what is left of the underground Russain bunker to either find his keys, or not.

If his keys are found, he's Robin's ride. If they aren't, they're both being dropped off by ambulance, which Robin is stressing about because her parents cannot see her come home in the back of an ambulance.

Steve offers her to stay at his house. He thinks it'll be easier to beg her parents for forgiveness than explain this situation. Robin agrees to stay if the ambulance ends up being their ride.

It doesn't, though. It takes an hour after everyone else has left, but someone delivers his keys.

It's eerie, the walk from the front lot around the mall to the back employee lot, so they clasp hands to have something to ground to. There are less people the further they walk. The fire's been contained, probably so the government people can root around the bunker below the mall to discover whatever it was the Russians knew, or know, or whatever.

The back lot is completely empty. Only Steve's car, parked towards the edge of the lot give that his shift yesterday had been an afternoon one, and all the closer parking spaces had been taken.

His car is parked so that the passenger side faces them as they approach. Wordlessly, they break apart, Robin heading for her door and Steve rounding the front of the car to get to the driver's side. Except as soon as he rounds the corner, a figure that was previously crouched or sat in front of the door jumps up, lunging at Steve.

He barely has time to register the voice, a terrified sounding "Stevie!" before Steve back tracks with a yelp, out of reach of the figure. Robin screams when he does, and whoever was lunging at him stops in their tracks, whipping around to look at the other source of the noise.

"Robin?"

It's then that Steve takes in the sight before him. It's Eddie. It was Eddie leaning against his door, waiting for him. Steve's flooded with a rush of love, his stupid brain deciding that Eddie must have been worried when Steve didn't meet him for the carnival. Had come to look for him. But then the reality of the situation settles over him.

That might have been true, but now he's seen that Steve is here with his girlfriend and this isn't how he wanted to do this but he will.

For Robin, he will. She deserves better.

"What are you doing here!? Besides scaring the shit out of us!" Robin yells, rounding the car to punch Eddie in the arm.

"Ow, Buckley, what the fuck!" Eddie rubs the spot she punched him, looking between Robin and Steve with... confusion? Steve is expecting to see maybe some remorse, or guilt, or maybe even glee at the fact stupid Steve Harrington was able to be so easily fooled. He doesn't see any of that, though.

Eddie takes a step towards him, and Steve flinches back.

Robin steps up to Eddie, like she wants to pull Eddie into a hug, but he stops her with a hand on her shoulder. He looks from Robin to Steve again, then back to Robin. Steve can't see his face, his hair hides his profile, but he can see Robin's face. Her confusion, brows furrowed, before her eyes go wide and now she's looking between Steve and Eddie.

Fuck. She's just put it together herself! She's going to hate Steve forever, homewreaker that he is.

"Oh. Oh no," Robin whispers, then says Eddie's name in a devastated tone. "Eddie. Is it-?"

"I-I can't... Robin," Eddie says back, sounding just as hurt.

"No! No, I told him- Eddie, I told him we were dating!" she turns to Steve, then, and blurts, "I'm a lesbian!"

He doesn't know what to do with that information. "What?"

"I lied. Steve, I lied, I'm a lying liar and I'm so sorry," Robin says, shoving Eddie away from herself and towards Steve.

Maybe the drugs are still working because Steve still doesn't understand. "I don't... what?"

"I'm not dating Eddie," Robin says. "I've never dated Eddie, would never date Eddie because I don't want to date boys. Please, Steve, I never meant to make you think-" but she cuts herself off, looking from Steve to Eddie and back, before saying, "I never meant to make you think you were unlovable."

Eddie makes a wounded noise at that. "What did you say to him, Buckley!?"

Robin lied. Robin lied about dating a boy. Because she's not interested in boys? That doesn't make sense. That- oh. She lied about having a boyfriend for the same reason he's lied about not having a boyfriend. Because it isn't safe to not to.

Steve's legs give out, but he doesn't hit the pavement because Eddie catches him and the three of them sob and cling to each other in the dark of the parking lot.

Later, much later, the truth will come out. Steve will learn they've always been each other's covers but never actually together. Robin will apologize because she blames herself for Steve's bathroom, drugged-breakdown, and Steve apologizes for all the awful thoughts he had about Eddie when he thought Eddie was dating them both and lying about it.

Steve will learn that Eddie loves him, too, just as much as Steve loves him.

#Anonymous #steddie #my fic

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finntheehumaneater · 4 months

Text

I owe you a black eye and two kisses

(Part two)

Now on Ao3

playlist | pinboard TW: drugs, swearing

Steve knew this was a bad idea. He knew it, and yet there he was, doing it anyway. His hands were shaking, and he was pretty sure he was still bleeding somewhere, but he sat patiently at the picnic table behind Hawkins High, waiting for the dealer to show up.

And honestly? Drugs wouldn't fix his situation. If anything, they would probably make it worse. But he just wanted to get back to that floaty-feeling he had felt with Robin a few days ago—to get rid of the feeling that he wasn't safe, because the people who hurt him were gone, and he was fine.

He should be fine, but he wasn't.

And he had a headache, just to top it all off.

He pressed his face into his hands, hating the way That his still-raw skin stung at the contact, but he didn't have the energy to lift his head up. He had felt on the verge of passing out for hours, and he was probably some kind of fucked up, again. But how would he know?

After starcourt, he had pushed the paramedics away—insisting that they check on everyone else, first, leaving him to sit in the back of an ambulance alone— his bruised-up Knees dangling over the edge of the vehicle, a blanket wrapped around his shoulder.

He hadn't needed it. He should have given it to someone else.

He could have gotten himself killed by refusing medical help like that. But that's who he's supposed to be, right? The self-sacrificing hero who puts others before himself—always making sure that everyone else is okay and comfortable before he limps off to go and tend to his own wounds in solitude.

And that's what he was doing. Tending to his own wounds. By buying drugs, of course, like any reasonable person would do. Besides, getting high was always more fun for him after serious head-trauma. He knew the risks, and he liked them.

He and Robin would have to find a new job, too.

Family Video was hiring soon, though, he had seen an ad for it in the newspaper this morning. He'd have to talk to Robin about that. But, then again, he’d probably end up vetoing the option, since he really didn't want to work for Keith.

A voice startled him from his thoughts —a teasing "Well, well, if it ish't Steve Harrington"—and he panicked, his body flinching into itself on its own, back curled like that would protect him from any kind of harm. He could still be beaten senseless like that, though, he knew from experience.

Steve forced himself to straighten, taking a deep breath, and trying to ignore the way that the pounding in his head only got worse after the sudden movement.

He didn't turn as Eddie Munson made his way to The other side of the picnic table, sitting down and placing his small, metal lunchbox between them.

“Munson,” Steve muttered, Kkeeping his head ducked, his eyes glued to a spot of lichen growing out of the wood of the table, desperately hoping that the hair falling over his forehead would help hide his battered-up face better.

“Harrington,” Eddie said back, but the cockines and teasing in his voice faltered slightly. "Shit, man, what happened to you?"

Steve shook his head, trying to turn away, but Eddie must have leaned over the table, because there was a thumb pressed to his chin, bringing his face up—the tip of it just brushing his bottom lip for a moment. It didn't move away when he winced and tugged back slightly, his skin burning at the contact. “Steve. What happened?"

Steve moved his eyes up to meet Eddie’s, and he had never felt more exposed in a t-shirt and jeans than he did now, what with the way Eddie was looking at him. It was Robin's Madonna t-shirt, and even though she only wore baggy things, really, it was still a bit tight on him, pushing up against his stomach a bit. But he had borrowed it because it was soft and cotton, the kind of fabric that didn't make him feel like he'd need to peel off his skin to be comfortable again after wearing it.

"Starcourt, " Steve managed, kind of loving the way that Eddie's thumb pressed against his skin a bit harder, his index finger hooked under Steve's chin to keep him in place. "M'okay."

Eddie narrowed his eyes, looking Steve over again, and Steve could feel his face flush as Eddie ran a finger down Steve’s bruised cheek and sighed. “Huh. Alright, then. Glad you’re okay.”

Steve nodded and watched as Eddie opened the box, looking at Steve expectantly, because of course he was waiting for Steve to tell him what he wanted, but Steve was feeling unsure, now. Did he really need to get high? That didn’t seem like it would help with his headache. He had really only done this once, and he felt horrible afterwards.

“I—I can’t do this,” He choked out, hating the way that his eyes stung, his hands gripping at his arms as he looked away, because he was tired. He was tired, that was it. Definitely. His fingers dug into his skin a bit harder, and he managed to get out an, “I’m sorry,” when he heard Eddie sigh and the box close.

“It’s okay,” Eddie whispered, his voice softer and less demanding than before. “Do you need anything? A ride home? You look kind of pale, sweetheart.”

“I don’t…I’m fine. You probably—you don’t need to do that,” Steve sniffed, wiping his eyes. He didn’t want to cry in front of Eddie, but he really couldn’t help it.

“At least let me walk you to your car?”

“I didn’t bring it. I—I walked here. Needed some fresh air, I guess…”

He looked back at Eddie, and Eddie looked him over once more, getting up and looking at Steve expectantly again. “Well, if you think I’m going to let you walk for half-an-hour like this, then you’re wrong. Let’s go, I’ll drive you home.”

EDIT: since this is getting so much attention, I would also just like to say that if you guys like my writing, I have more of it here ❤️

(I might make a part two of this and post it if people are interested, but I’m putting this here so that you guys can bug me about finishing this if you’d like :D)

I did not read this over. So sorry for any mistakes.

Title from this song

I hope you enjoyed my 11PM shitty writing, and reblogs and comments are appreciated!! ⭐️

#steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #stranger things #steve x eddie #steddie fic #Finn writes #stranger things fic #steve Harrington fic #stobin #platonic with a capital p #My fic #my writing

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