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thisapplepielife · 10 days

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Written for the @corrodedcoffinfest May warm-up round.

These Keys?

Gareth is dozing at his desk, when a knock on his office door startles him awake, "Your two o'clock is here."

Gareth didn't remember having a two o'clock, but he stands up and tries to smooth out his suit. It's two sizes too big, and something Eddie found for him at a thrift store. It's ugly, but works, for now. He's just working this job selling cars, saving some goddamn money, until the band can start playing full-time. Hopefully. That's the dream, anyway.

He's not very good at it, not like Eddie would be, but Eddie was a no-go with his hair that he refused to cut to be a corporate shill, or whatever he ranted about.

There's a guy standing in the showroom, waiting. Preppy and coiffed within an inch of his life. Great.

But Gareth approaches him, because he looks like he has money. And money means the chance at a commission. So, Gareth tries to shake the cobwebs out of his brain.

"I'm Steve. We talked on the phone earlier," this guy says, and Gareth reaches out to shake his hand. He has no memory of this alleged conversation. Maybe he shouldn't have gotten so stoned with Eddie during his lunch break.

Rolling out of the van loose and faded after lunch, probably wasn't the best idea he's ever had.

But he hates this job. He can't sell cars. He knows nothing about them.

"What can I help you with, Steve?" Gareth asks, and Steve's just staring at him, definitely annoyed. What's his damn problem?

"As I said on the phone, my lease is up. I need to find out how much it will be to buy mine out, or lease something new."

"Cool. Cool. Totally, man. We can do that."

"How about this one?" Gareth asks, looking at a BMW he's never seen on the lot before. It's shiny. Really, really shiny. He runs his hand over the roof. "Pretty, right?"

"Uh, yeah," Steve says, but sounds less than enthused, crossing his arms over his chest, and it looks a little aggressive, "Well, how much? What's the mileage?"

Man, he's bitchy.

There's no sticker, but Gareth can find out how much they're asking. He'll just bullshit until then.

"It's new on the lot," Gareth says, and tries to pull up on the handle, but it doesn't budge.

"Locked, huh?" Steve asks. "Maybe you need the keys?"

Gareth presses his face to the window, to see if he can see the odometer from here, but can't.

"Yeah, I'll get the keys. I'll be right back. Wait here."

"Sure, okay. I'll be waiting," Steve snaps, and Gareth strides off towards the dealership.

When he comes back, with no keys, Steve is talking to Keith. Goddamnit.

"Do you know where the keys to this car are?" Gareth asks Keith, interrupting.

Steve pulls a set of keys out of his pocket, "These keys?"

"Where'd you get those?" Gareth asks.

"It's my car, Gareth. This is the car I drove here. The one I've been leasing from you guys for the past two years. The one I told you about, on the phone."

Keith shakes his head, disappointed, and points Gareth back towards the showroom.

He's been dismissed, and his potential commission, gone. Probably his job. A lease would have made sure they wouldn't fire him. Fuck. He didn't know that was Steve's car. How could he have known? Steve could have said something, for fuck's sake. Prick.

And now Gareth just has to stand by watching as Steve goes over the paperwork on his new car. The one Gareth definitely isn't going to sell him. Keith made sure of it.

Today's not his day.

At least it's winding to a close, and when Eddie pulls up in the van, Gareth walks toward it, relieved to be done with Keith, Steve, and this job for another day.

But then he notices that Steve is following him. Which, weird. Surely he's not gonna kick his ass over a dumb mistake. He was just a little baked. That's all.

Gareth pauses. And so does Steve.

"What?" Gareth asks.

"What, what?" Steve repeats.

"Why are you following me?" Gareth asks.

"I'm not following you," Steve says, clearly following him.

"You are."

"I'm not."

They're still arguing, this childish back and forth, when Eddie gets out and leans against the van.

"Soooo, I see you've met," Eddie says.

And they both turn to look in his direction.

"You know him?!" they both yell, in unison.

And Eddie just cackles.

"You set me up!" Gareth accuses, pointing at Eddie.

"Well, maybe. A little. But it was mainly Steve I was harassing."

And then Gareth gets it.

"This is your Steve?" Gareth asks, pointing at the preppy-looking motherfucker standing next to him.

Eddie nods, pleased with himself, clearly.

"Eddie! You lost me my commission!"

Steve is rubbing his eyebrow, "Gareth. Shoulda realized. How common could that name be?"

He's muttering quietly and Gareth is scared they've broken him.

Eddie must be pretty sure about this one, if he's already picking on him this goddamn hard.

Steve snaps out of it, suddenly striding over towards Keith.

Gareth follows.

"Hey, Gareth was helping me first. He's the one I had the appointment with, so I'd like to finish this up with him. See it through."

"But, are you, I…" Keith splutters, not wanting to let this one go, obviously, and Gareth just grins and holds out his hand for the halfway filled-out lease.

Keith hands it over, and Gareth leads Steve and Eddie back to his office.

Steve signs on the dotted line, and Gareth will be able to pay his rent for another month. And he hit his monthly bonus, right at the end of the month. Hot damn.

"Thanks, Steve," Gareth says, "Sorry we got off on the wrong foot."

Steve just lulls his head towards Eddie, "Now, we had a little help with that, didn't we?"

And Eddie just cackles, like the shitty troll he is.

If you want to write your own, or see more entries for this challenge, pop on over to @corrodedcoffinfest and follow along with the fun! 🦇

Notes: Inspiration for this one, was I saw this video a couple months ago, and had to track down the original on TikTok to share it here. But: Graham, Gareth. It made sense. (And I found there were updates to the Graham debacle!!)

#corrodedcoffinfest #may warm-up: get a job #gareth stranger things #steve harrington #eddie munson #steddie fic #corroded coffin fic #ccf warm up: get a job #thisapplepielife: short fic #thisapplepielife: corrodedcoffinfest #meet ugly #gareth & steve harrington #gareth and eddie are bffs

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f1rewalk3r · 2 months

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since apparently this is what i’m known for: What Motorcycle I think each member of the PRT ENE would ride:

Armsmaster: Canonically rides a “souped up motorcycle.” obviously this means tinkertech in the parahumans world, but in the biker world this means egregious, stupid custom. so i’m giving him a fat tire Harley Davidson VROD. an ugly bike with an ego for a silly man with an ego

now what do you get when you cross the most reliable, unkillable dual sport of all time with a diesel engine? you get the Kawasaki KLR-650 HDT, the M1030-M1, a finicky monster used by the US military. perfect for the unkillable Miss Militia, a connoisseur of finicky military equipment. it can go anywhere and use anything for fuel, but it was literally designed to run on jet fuel.

Velocity’s a speedster right? so obviously he’s gonna get an ultra fast liter bike, super sport, 200hp, etc. WRONG. you fucking idiot. you fucking moron. personally i don’t subscribe to grimdumb f(c?)anon that he perceives real time when he’s speeding. that’s stupid cape design imo. he can go fast as his heart desires with his power. yknow what he can’t do with his power? rip up the fucking motorcross track, doing flips and jumps and shit. radical, man. so he gets a two-stoke ripper, the Yamaha YZ-250.

Battery, on the other hand, is a girlboss who needs to get stress relief via a supersport liter bike. she’s dealing with assault all day, can you blame her? so she’s getting the Honda CBR1000RR-Fireblade. liquid cooled, 999cc, inline four, with a top speed of 190mph it really doesn’t get much faster than this, folks.

now if you take the dual sport Kawasaki, give it the suspension of the Yamaha motorcross, but the tires and street performance of the supersport, you get the Supermotard class of bikes. the crackhead hooligans of the bike community, these are the bikes that are doing wheelies in residential areas, jumping over that grassy hill near your office building, and squealing around corners as the back end slips out. can you tell i have a favorite type of bike. now, who’s our resident crackhead of the protectorate? why, Assault, of course! So he’s getting the king of supermotos (and the bike i will probably be purchasing in may), a Suzuki DRZ-400SM

loud, annoying, and entitled Triumph gets the Harley Davidson Softtail, the bike of choice for obnoxious wannabe hell’s angels, the bike of choice for your balding 50yr old dad, or for the kid who wants so badly to be relevant and accepted amongst the boomers he calls friends. idk where Triumph fits into this its kinda just a vibe yk he’s a nepo baby, he gets a harley

and finally. the perfect bike for those with mobility issues/those concerned about safety due to preexisting medical conditions, Director Piggot gets a Harley Davidson Trike and she fucking slays on it, understand? girl power.

i forgot dauntless because he’s boring so he gets a boring adventure bike for boring losers. BMW F650GS. fuck you dauntless you dont even get a fun big BMW you get the heavy underpowered one. go to hell 🖕

#wormblr #parahumans #shitpost #kinda?#brockton bay #prt ene #motorcycle analysis #wildbow #worm web serial #colin armsmaster #miss militia #velocity #triumph #director piggot #emily piggot #assault and battery

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bluemoonperegrine · 16 days

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A Friend Indeed

This is my foray into the obligatory "Jack staggers up to Bloodstone Manor on death's doorstep in need of Elsa's aid" genre.

The thing is that I'm not terribly sure what happens next, so if anyone wants to take a stab at it, feel free! I think it would be great if multiple people did. I have some ideas about exactly why Jack is in such bad shape. If you want to hear them, DM me. If you want to make it up, that's fine too.

Rating: Gen Characters: Jack Russell, Elsa Bloodstone, original characters Word Count (so far): ~1500 Warnings: None

The sedan hit a pothole hard enough to make Jack’s stomach lurch. Keeping his eyes closed, he inhaled sharply and tried not to retch.

“Do NOT vomit in my car, Terry,” Athena said to his left.

Jack had disliked the vampire soon after meeting her at an I-495 truck stop outside Hudson, Massachussetts as the half-full moon brightened deepening twilight. Plump and shorter than he was, the curly-haired woman of Greek descent had informed Jack that his vampire-werewolf niece Nina was the only reason she was giving him a lift. “I’d insist on a drink,” Athena had said while eyeing the part of his neck not covered by his winter coat and scarf, “but your kind tastes… gamey.”

That had been two hours earlier when he’d only had a high fever and moderate pain from the bandaged slash across his right forearm. Jack had had enough willpower to bite back a retort and give the hateful creature a curt nod. Now his arm and head throbbed as lightheadedness crept in.

“Doing my best,” Jack replied. “And enough with ‘Terry.’” It wasn’t even an original taunt: Jack Russell Terrier to “Terry”. Ha ha. At least he was alive and not a parasite.

In his mind’s eye Nina raised a manicured eyebrow. His niece wasn’t a parasite. She’d struggled but had found her own path. Nina fed on human predators, usually ones able to evade the law. It was ugly business, but the world was better for it.

Athena sniffed. “What’s wrong with you, anyway? Werewolves heal fast.”

“The… thing I was hunting got a few hits in,” Jack said. “One slash broke the skin. It was healing. I called Nina when I started feeling sick.”

“So the ‘thing’ got away.”

Jack snarled, then caught himself and stopped. “I killed it. It won’t hurt anyone else.”

“Ah,” Athena said as she glanced at her iPhone propped on the dashboard. The blue arrow marking their location inched west from the rural town of New Braintree. Jack didn’t recognize the two-lane road Athena was taking, but it had already been dark when he’d approached Bloodstone Manor last fall and he’d been sick with worry.

Rescuing Ted had nearly ended in disaster. The swamp creature had gleefully told Jack how he’d crashed through the trophy room’s stained-glass ceiling and incinerated Verussa, who’d been about to kill her own stepdaughter.

How Elsa had survived the wolf Jack didn’t know. Presumably it was a combination of that side of him remembering her scent, and her bravery and intelligence. How fitting that the remarkable woman’s address was Braintree.

“…time to check with contacts, but I think— Russell!” the vampire snapped.

Jack managed a grin as a reward for not calling him Terry. “Hmm?”

“Pay attention! We’re almost there.”

Jack nodded, which prompted a fresh wave of nausea.

She gestured at the woods on the north side of the road. “The fence bounding the property is twenty feet that way. Good luck with security.” She leaned forward and scrutinized the dirt shoulder topped with a thin layer of snow. “Once I find a good place to pull over, my debt to Nina is paid in full.”

“Nuh-uh,” Jack said.

Light from the phone’s display showed Athena’s scowl. “‘Nuh-uh?’”

“You agreed to get me inside. Don’t vampires fly?”

Athena’s eyes flashed red as brought the BMW to an abrupt halt. The motion made Jack’s head swim. “No. But you do.”

Through pain and dizziness Jack was vaguely aware of cold hands hauling him out of the car and through underbrush. “What?” he asked at least once.

They stopped with Athena holding Jack up by a handful of his coat in front of a wrought-iron fence stretching left and right into forest. Jack squinted at the tall, closely spaced bars. He was in no condition to jump or climb.

He was about to ask Athena to give him a boost when she said, “The manor is due north.” She gave him a fanged smirk, and he was sailing over the fence.

The ground rushed up and punched him in the head.

Athena chuckled as Jack vomited into leaf litter. “Give Nina my regards, if you survive.”

Jack heard her retreating footsteps between dry heaves. Pinche vampiros.

The next thing Jack knew he was laying on his back and the moon had set.

That didn’t make sense. How had it moved so fast?

You passed out, Ted said in his mind.

“Ted? How did you get here?”

Doesn’t matter, his friend—more than a friend—said. Get up. You must get up.

Groaning, Jack pushed himself up to a sitting position. “Why?”

To see Elsa.

Jack’s right arm buckled, and he nearly fell back. His right arm burned, and he couldn’t feel that hand. “Okay,” he replied.

With his breath forming frosty clouds, Jack got his feet under him and followed Ted’s directions. The dense woods were a godsend; the trees helped him stay upright as he put one foot in front of the other.

Jack grinned when bright lights shone through the trees and shrubs ahead. The manor was close. Elsa was close. He regretted leaving the day after the funeral-turned-battle-royale, but Ted needed to go home, and his other side had killed nearly everyone in the trophy room. The exceptions were Verussa, whom Ted had taken care of, and Elsa. Fierce, beautiful Elsa, the woman he dreamed of since that night but was too ashamed to approach.

It had taken a wound inflicted by a supposed demon to make Jack seek out the Bloodstone heiress. After slaying the pale, four-foot-tall, spindly-armed humanoid that was stronger and faster than it appeared, he’d made his way through the abandoned industrial area it had called home. The slash its claws had made through his coat into flesh wasn’t healing. His gut said he was in trouble, so he’d tightly wrapped the wound and called Nina. He needed to get to Elsa, he told her.

After declaring Jack an idiot for wanting to go to Hunter Central, Nina had said to get to his car and sit tight. She couldn’t help directly from her flat in Bolivia, but she’d call in some favors.

Leaning against a white birch, Jack peered ahead. Across 100 feet of manicured lawn was the imposing facade of Bloodstone Manor.

Mustering his remaining strength, Jack stood up straight and started toward Elsa. Leaves and patches of snow crunched underfoot as he continued through the woods.

Where are you going? Ted asked.

Jack swiped away sweat stinging his eyes as he trudged onward. “Elsa.”

The manor’s north! You’re going the wrong way!

Jack shook his head. The resulting wave of pain made him cry out.

A gunshot made his ears ring. The shock of it brought him to his knees.

“This is private property!” a woman shouted a short distance ahead.

“Elsa!” Jack laughed. “Why are you in the woods?” Then he frowned; he wasn’t sure if he’d said that in English or Spanish.

He was about to repeat the question in English when leaves rustled and twigs snapped as a lithe form moved closer. Elsa’s familiar scent carried on the light breeze. “Who…” she called. “Jack?”

“Yes!” he said, struggling to stand upright with the help of another tree. “I’d have called but—”

Elsa, dressed in practical outdoor clothing with a hunting rifle in one hand, rushed up to him, radiant and full of life. Even with her gaping at him, she seemed lighter than when he’d last seen her. Which made sense considering his other side was about to tear her apart then, but—

“How did you get here?!” Elsa demanded.

Jack interrupted his smiling with a reply. “Pinche vampira.”

She blinked at him, then looked around with alarm.

“She left,” Jack assured her. “BMW. I’m to give Nina her regards if I survive.” His last few words had come out slurred, and the night was getting darker.

“Survive what?!”

Jack fumbled for the nearest tree for support, but found Elsa instead. He smiled, happy to lean into her with her scent all around as dizziness returned. “Dover Demon,” Jack said as Elsa shifted to get his left arm over her shoulders. He moved his wounded arm forward. Blood had soaked through his makeshift bandage and darkened the lower half of his coat’s sleeve. “Not silver,” he murmured as his eyelids grew heavy.

“Oh no no no no,” Elsa said, dragging him forward. “Don’t you dare pass out on me, Jack… What is your full name?”

“Me llamo Jack Russell.”

They stopped short, which made Jack’s head swim. “You’re having me on.”

“¡Es verdad!” Jack said as he got his feet under him. “Wasn’t about to change my name because of a new dog breed.”

Elsa looked at him askance. Jack picked one of the three of her he saw and gave her his best smile.

“Right,” she said, all business again. “Walk with me, Russell. We’re—”

“Jack,” he corrected.

Elsa sighed. “Fine, Jack. Let’s get you inside so you survive.”

Jack’s heart melted a little. That was one of the nicest things he’d heard in decades.

---------------

To be clear(ish), Ted may or may not have been communicating with Jack psychically. I left it ambiguous. Jack's sick as a dog (pun intended) so he might be hallucinating.

#werewolf by night #werewolf by night fanfiction #fan fiction #whump #jack russell whump #elsa bloodstone

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ivysenpai3 · 2 months

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Bonten x Fem! Pimp! Reader.

Different

Pt 2

Chapter 1

L/N Y/N rode through the city of Tokyo late at night in her black BMW X6, driving to one of the clubs which Bonten owns in order to count her profits, for her girls worked at a couple of the clubs which was own by Bonten.

Tonight's chosen location was called 'The Glasshouse'. When she arrived, music was blasting as well as the flashing lights. She sighed deeply, her distaste for loud places evident, even though she regularly went to such places due to her job. She went in and dove through the large crowd, trailing up the stairs and arriving in front of the private room for only Bonten members. The guards in front of the room looked at her, assuming she was one of the whores who worked there, but there confusion grew when they noticed her dressing. Her large, pompous fur coat hanging over she shoulders, her black suit fitting her perfectly, her (Your hair length) (Your hair color) flowing freely. But none the less, the guards let her proceed.

When she entered the room, everyone turned their eyes towards her, the Bonten members as well as the girls they were with. Aside from Kakucho and Kokonoi, no one else knew that Y/N worked hand in hand with Bonten, so the rest thought she was just a common whore and they were perplexed why she dressed in a way that showed no skin at all. Ran was the first to approach her.

"Are you lost, angel?" He asked her "If you're gonna be a slut, you gotta dress the part, darling"

Y/N looked at him in disgust, her nose scrunching up before walking past him and going towards Kakucho and Kokonoi. She was stopped by Sanzu who pointed a gun at her head.

"I don't see the reason why a common whore should act all high and mighty. Who the fuck do you think you are?" Sanzu said with a slight crazed glint in his eyes "Should I blow your brains out right now?"

"Stop that, Sanzu. Put the gun down, she's a business partner, the girls who work in some of our clubs are hers" Kakucho said.

The eyes of the girls in the room widened, finally remembering who she was and they shivered with fear. Y/N looked at all of them "I thought I told all of you how to greet me?" She asked.

The girls immediately got off the couches and got on their knees, their heads touching the floor and their pupils dilated in fear. "Sumimase!!!" They all yelled, shocking the Bonten members except Koko and Kaku.

"Leave. All of you" she said.

"Hai!" All the girls yelled and got of their knees and rushed out the door.

Y/N sighed as she sat beside Koko. "It's been a while since you last came here" Koko said. "I got bored, so I decided to see how much I had made." Y/N replied, crossing her legs and leaning her head back on the leather couch with her arms hanging out either side.

"Everyone, this is L/N Y/N. Like I said earlier, she works hand in hand in Bonten, her girls work in at least 70% of our clubs" Kakucho formally introduced her then turned to face her "I assume you know each and everyone of us already" he added and Y/N briefly nodded.

Before they could go any further, another of Y/N's girls barged in, her eyes filled with tears. Some guys called her ugly and some other harsh words that messed with her self-esteem. She ran in front of Y/N and explained the situation. Y/N held her hand and took her in front of a full length mirror then stood behind her.

"You know what I see?" Y/N asked

"What?"

"I see a strong, confident, beautiful young lady"

"Really?"

"Oh look, you're here too" Y/N laughed loudly, her words made the girl burst into a fit of tears. Y/N's grip on her the girl's shoulders tightened. "Cut the bullshit, this is what you're fucking paid for, so suck it the fuck up and go back out there and do your fucking job" Y/N said with the best smile she could fake and pushed the girl out of the room. She sighed and turned around, going back to sit beside Koko. She looked up and said "Now, shall we proceed?". Every single one of them were impressed with her straightforwardness, going straight to the point and not wanting to waste a single second.

As the night went on, Y/N remained in the Bonten's private room, counting how much she had made so far after not being present for a month. Even when she was done, she decided to stay because other than Koko and Kaku, she hadn't personally met any other executives of Bonten. In the middle of her stay, a call came in. She looked at the caller ID and sighed when she saw who it was. She answered and put the phone against her ear, "What is it, Slickback?" she asked, a hint of boredom could be noted in her tone.

Slickback was her 'co-worker' who was in charge of her business back in America. They worked together for almost 2 years.

"Cristal's dead." Slickback replied

"The fuck do you mean 'dead'? Cut the bullshit, she was the fucking best we had. What happened to her?"

"Murdered by a client. We found her body in a hotel room."

"Murdered? Ugh... Not this again, I'm tired of replacing these girls."

"What should we do with her body?"

"What we always do with the bodies of the others. Take it to a butcher, or do it yourself, chop it up and dump it in the lake, or the ocean. Preferably the ocean since that's deeper."

As Y/N said this, the Bonten executives all looked at her in shock, not believing the words they just heard. Y/N noticed their gaze, but didn't think much of it and turned her attention back to Slickback.

"Look, I'll call Kel and tell him to get a replacement that looks exactly like Cristal. Do not let anyone know about this, not her family, not her friends, no one. Got it?" She said.

"Got it. How long is that gonna take?" Slickback asked

"Probably like a week or two, he needs to find the right one with even the slightest similar features as Cristal, and needs to modify everything else. I'll give him a call. Alright?"

"Alright"

At that she hung up and sighed again, rubbing the bridge of her nose with her thumb and index finger "Dumbass Slickback, can't do shit right"

She stood up and started walking out, getting tired already.

Ran was the first to stop her, immediately realizing that they might not see her again for quite a while and they most definitely cannot let an exquisite character like hers just disappear into thin air.

"Hey, wait." He called out, causing Y/N to turn around "Hm?"

"Can I have your number?"

The rest of the executives deadpanned at his request.

"Sure" Y/N replied, throwing her business card at him then finally walking away, leaving the executives, particularly the trio, to stare at her gold card in awe.

Taglist

@kokonoiscoconut @sirachano0dles @otaku-4-the-win

#tokyo rev x y/n #tokyo revengers #bonten x y/n #sano mikey manjiro #haitani rindou #pimpways #ivysenpai💅#different series

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steddie-fanfic-recs · 3 months

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just a rhyme without a reason

by doriangrayscale

Rating: Mature Archive Warning: Graphic Depictions Of Violence Relationship: Steve Harrington/Eddie Munson, Robin Buckley & Steve Harrington, Steve Harrington & The Party, Steve Harrington & Dustin Henderson, Steve Harrington & Maxine "Max" Mayfield, Steve Harrington & Nancy Wheeler Character: Maxine "Max" Mayfield, Wayne Munson, Dustin Henderson, Mike Wheeler, Lucas Sinclair, Erica Sinclair, Jason Carver, Jonathan Byers, Robin Buckley, Nancy Wheeler, Eleven | Jane Hopper Additional Tags: Bisexual Steve Harrington, Gay Eddie Munson, Good Babysitter Steve Harrington, Steve Harrington Has Bad Parents, and ptsd, Slow Burn, Homelessness, Self-Harm through Self-Sacrifice, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Season 4 Rewrite, Steve Harrington Whump, No beta we die like Barb, Pining, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, light period-typical homophobia, Angst with a Happy Ending, Vague Suicidal Thoughts/Ideations, liberal use of echo and the bunnymen, Pre-Season/Series 04, I did mention angst right? Words: 78,139 Chapters: 12/12

Summary

The mall is destroyed. El’s lost her powers. Billy’s dead. So is Hopper. Steve is probably fucked up mentally for life, but what else is new? Steve has a pretty good thing going. He has kids to take care of, an awkward lesbian to advise. Max needs a big brother. Hawkins is his home, and Steve can’t just leave. Not while he’s still needed. He knows one day he won’t be. But for now, it’s enough. Or: the Harringtons sell their house before the real estate market goes belly-up. Hawkins has been going downhill for years, anyway. His parents give Steve a choice: move with them and finally take that job at his dad’s company or get left behind. For Steve, it wasn’t much of a choice at all. He may not have a house anymore, but his BMW’s backseat has served as a bed plenty of times already. No one has to know. The party has enough problems to worry about. Or: Eddie Munson worms his way into Steve’s sorry little life months before Vecna rears his ugly head. Or: Steve Harrington, a character study.

#steddie #steddie fic rec #multi-chaptered #50-100k #slow burn #pining #angst #hurt/comfort #angst with a happy ending

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dallysnecklace · 2 years

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The King and The Freak

Pairing: Steve Harrington x Henderson! Edgy! Nerdy! Reader (Eddie munson x platonic! Reader)

Summary: Dustin’s Older sister has been getting picked on more than usual and is reluctant to tell her boyfriend, Steve.

WARNINGS: Bullying, hurt/comfort, angst-ish, fluff, comfort, established relationship, insecurity, bad/intrusive thoughts

A/n i am getting though some requests now, so they should be out soon! This was requested by anon but it got lost in my inbox ): so sorry!

School had always been hard for you.

Not for the reason you think.

Actually, you were incredibly smart. You were in all advanced classes, and loved learning. You especially had an affinity for Science.

However, throughout your years, you’ve learned that other people decided that you deserved to be picked on for how you dressed and what you liked.

You had met Steve in the 9th grade when his “friend,”Carol, had purposely tripped you over in the middle of the hallway. You caught yourself, but your hands were pretty scraped up. Steve felt incredibly bad for you, and helped you to the nurses office.

From that day on the two of you developed a love for the other.

To outsiders, the pairing did not make sense. A nerdy, edgy freak with the “King” of Hawkins? No way.

But when people saw you two, they couldn’t deny the sparks that they witnessed.

Steve was working today, and you were still in school, being a senior. You would’ve graduated early, but you wanted to take a few extra classes this year. You usually leave right after lunch, since you take so few classes. However, these plans were interrupted today.

You were sitting with Eddie and your brother. It had been where you sat for the last three years. However, when Jason approached your table, you knew something was wrong.

“Hey Freaks.” He scowled down at you and Eddie.

You ignored him, looking down at your silver rings, playing with them.

His face tensed when you didn’t acknowledge him, and he spoke louder.

“Look at me when I speak to you.” He growled. You looked up at him, making eye contact with Eddie on the way.

“What do you want, Jason?” You asked, quietly.

“Oh I was just wondering if you’re still with that little boyfriend of yours? Steve.”

You looked away, scared.

“It’s insane how he’s with you. You’re so fucking ugly and annoying. He’s probably with another woman right now yeah? Why would he ever want to be with you.” He snarled.

This hurt. It hurt a lot more than you wanted it to. You and Steve’s social statuses always made you insecure. Why would he ever be with someone like you? He always reassured you that he’s so in love with you, but you still get insecure.

Eddie spoke up, knowing your insecurities. “Hey Man, leave her alone.” He stood up and pushed Jason’s chest back, and put an arm on your shoulder.

“Aww does little Y/N need her gang of freaks to help her?” One of Jason’s friends teased.

Eddie was sick of this, and grabbed your hand, and led you out of the cafeteria doors. He was looking at you, concerned. He knew how you always were teased, but this was bad. They hadn’t ever brought up Steve before.

Meanwhile, you were swimming in your thoughts. Did you deserve Steve? Is he with someone else on the side? Why would Steve ever love you?

Eddie probably knew you were drowning in your thoughts, “Hey. Y/n. Are you okay?” He looked down at you, as the two of you walked to his van.

You stayed silent, worrying that if you spoke you would just start crying.

Eddie recognized the look on your face and decided to drive you to Family Video. He knew that Steve was getting off work soon, and hoped that he could be more of a help to you.

On the drive there, you looked out the window, silent tears decorating your face. Eddie consistently was looking at you, seeing your reflection in his window. He turned into family video, and parked. You spotted Steve’s red BMW, meaning he wasn’t off of work yet.

“I’ll be right back” Eddie muttered as he jumped out of the vehicle, leaving you alone.

As soon as you saw him disappear behind the door, sobs racked over your body. Jason had left you alone for a few weeks, why did he have to just come back to bullying you? You didn’t understand. All you did was be nice to people, and try to be as true to yourself as possible, but maybe that isn’t okay. Maybe you shouldn’t be yourself?

Your thoughts were quickly interrupted when Eddie pulled open you door quickly, with Steve behind him. You met Steve’s eyes. His face flashed sadness as he looked at you, and his eyes were filled with worry. He stepped closer to you, putting his hand on your cheek.

“Y/n. Are you okay?” He looked back and forth between your eyes. You just looked at him.

“I’m fine, just, please don’t worry about it, I’m fine.” You quickly responded.

Instead of saying something in response, Steve grabbed your hand and led you to his car, waving a thank you to Eddie. He threw your book bag in his backseat, and helped you into the passenger side. He got in the drivers side, and started the car.

As he drove to your house, he grabbed your hand, rubbing small circles into the back of your palm. He knew you needed to be home to be able to really talk about how you were feeling.

Rain started to patter over his windshield as he pulled into your driveway, shutting of his car. Wordlessly, the two of you walked inside, not being bothered by the rain.

No one was in your house except for mews, who greeted you at the door. You picked up the cat, holding her close to your chest, her presence comforting you. You let her down by your feet as you pulled off your shoes. Steve did the same, then asked, “Would you like some tea sweetheart?”

“Yeah, earl grey please.” You said as he started the kettle. He pulled out your favorite mug, and a tea bag. He poured the steaming water into your mug, and walked up to you, placing it in your hands.

“Can we go to my room?” You asked, looking up at your boyfriend.

“Yes, of course.” He followed you into your room. You sat down on the bed, placing your tea your bedside table, while Steve sat next to you.

“Can you tell me what’s wrong?” He whispered, turning your chin so his eyes met yours. His look was soft and concerned.

His soft tone and words made tears prick the inner corners of your eyes, teetering over the edge. One fell over, and then the rest did. Steve noticed and quickly pulled you into his chest, “Hey, hey, hey, it’s okay baby.” He held you close and rocked you back and forth a little, soothing you. He rubbed your back over your soft cotton T-shirt to comfort you.

After calming down a bit, you pulled away from his grasp and looked up at him.

“Uhm, today during lunch I was just sitting with Eddie and Jason came up to our table.” His look hardened at the mention of Jason’s name.

“He started to just tease me and Eddie, and then he just focused on me. He said I was ugly and annoying and that you shouldn’t be with me and, god it was just horrible.” You whispered, barely forcing the words out.

“And, I don’t know I guess I just got really insecure and was just thinking that maybe you shouldn’t be with me cause I’m a freak, er, I don’t know nevermind, sorry.”

A few more tears escaped your eyes as you finished. Steve looked at you with a look you couldn’t figure out. You always could tell what he was feeling through his eyes, but you couldn’t now.

He spoke up.

“Y/n. You are the most kind, smart, selfless, beautiful person I know. I love you so so much. You mean the absolute world to me. And if some bully tries to put you down because he can’t be himself than that’s on him. I am so sorry he said that to you but you cannot let yourself believe him. He is so wrong.”

He grabbed you, and he laid back with you on his chest.

“I don’t care what anyone in this town says about our relationship, I am so In love with you. And- and if no one else can appreciate you the way I can then you cannot let yourself believe them when they lie about you.” He sighed.

“I want to spend the rest of my life with you Henderson. I’ll even take your last name I don’t care.”

You started crying again, but this time not out of sadness. Steve thought it was, and got nervous.

“I’m sorry was that too much? God I’m so stupid-“

“No. Steve.” You interrupted, sitting up and looking at him.

“I’m just so lucky to have you. I love too, so much Steve. Thank you for just being there for me when I’m feeling like this. And for the record I feel the same, I want to be with you forever.”

He smiled and kissed your lips softly, and pulled away, looking at you.

You pulled him back in for a more passionate kiss, trying to pour all your love for him in one kiss.

He pulled away, and smiled.

“Okay, so how about we spend the rest of the day watching Star Wars and eating shitty food?” He suggested.

“Please. And cuddles.” You added.

“Yes, and cuddles.” He responded as he picked you up, and brought you downstairs, ready for a night of comfort .

#steve harrington x you #steve harrington one shot #steve harrington fanfic #stranger things steve #Steve Harrington #stranger things x you #stranger things x reader #stranger things fanfiction #Steve Harrington Fluff #steve harrington comfort #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x henderson!oc

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ghostmemesource · 8 months

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👻୧‿︵‿︵ rupaul's drag race sentence starters

these are quotes taken from various seasons of rupaul's drag race. send in one of the prompts below for my muse’s response. please change pronouns where you see fit. remember to specify muse if you're sending it to a multi muse.

❝ Your tone seems very pointed right now. ❞

❝ I don't have a sugar daddy. ❞

❝ If I wanted a sugar daddy, yes, I could probably go out and get one, because I'm what? Sickening! ❞

❝ You could never have a sugar daddy because you are not that kind of girl. ❞

❝ Girl, you had rolls all over the place in the back, it was disgusting! ❞

❝ BACK ROLLS?! ❞

❝ Ugh, Jesus. Gross. ❞

❝ Party!! ❞

❝ Not today, Satan! Not today! ❞

❝ I got bills to pay! I got dogs to put through college. ❞

❝ Water off a duck's back. ❞

❝ No tea, no shade. ❞

❝ Go back to Party City. ❞

❝ Check your lipstick before you come for me. ❞

❝ I feel sexy in anything, even a body bag. ❞

❝ I tend to think that emotions are for ugly people. ❞

❝ She looks fuckin' bomb dot com dot org dot co dot uk. ❞

❝ You are so full of shit, the toilet's jealous. ❞

❝ Don't get bitter, just get bitter. ❞

❝ Can I get an amen up in here? ❞

❝ The shade of it all. ❞

❝ I have a master's degree in fierce. ❞

❝ Everyone's got slightly wonky tits, kids, it's a fact of life. ❞

❝ The only 'vers' I am is Versace. ❞

❝ If you can't love yourself, how in the hell you gon' love somebody else? ❞

❝ Is there something on my face? ❞

❝ Because I am what? Sickening! ❞

❝ I feel like you're being sabotaged by your inner saboteur. ❞

❝ I push up my boobs for Jesus. ❞

❝ It’s very easy to look at the world and think, this is all so cruel and so mean. It’s important to not become bitter from it. ❞

❝ I don't get cute, I get drop-dead gorgeous. ❞

❝ I could never be a Kardashian because I have talent. ❞

❝ When you become the image of your own imagination, it’s the most powerful thing you could ever do. ❞

❝ I feel very attacked right now. ❞

❝ I’m not going to panic because I don’t do that anymore. It’s going to be okay. ❞

❝ The only thing wrong with me was that I thought there was something wrong with me. ❞

❝ BMW – Body. Made. Wrong. ❞

❝ It’s called Forever 21 not Forever 41! ❞

❝ I just want fried chicken. ❞

❝ Did you bring me some cupcakes? ❞

#rp meme #rp memes #sentence starters rp meme

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yiiran · 3 months

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yuwu characters as things me and my friends have said (some out of context)

yue chenqing: damn, shawty, you got that elephant memory *backflip into wall*

gu mang: I'll even pay you five dollars and *checks pockets* seven cents for it

gu mang: guys, pretend to be my search history, go nuts

lu zhanxing: mo xi nudes

murong lian: mo xi nudes

gu mang: the masculine urge to be dominated by the most fucked up men

mo xi: she hulu on my iglu til I ugly

yue chenqing: and I was like, "you finally got bitches?"

gu mang: uwu haiiii murong chuyi :3 nyaaa!! rawr

mo xi: "where is virginia" um, the uterus, duh

mo xi: is it because I'm neurodivergent

mengze: no it's because you're chinese

mo xi: my balls require rest

gu mang: THE WORK FORCE IS UNFORGIVING

mo xi: your dick is the size of a pill

murong lian: that's racially motivated

mo xi, about gu mang: I want him to rip my arms off and put me in a blender

gu mang: he canonically sleeps with his eyes closed. ok bye.

mo xi: well I'm about to canonically punch you in the face. goodnight.

murong lian: such a loving marriage

yue chenqing: and like, the cum was ultra pressurized

gu mang: I could make jesus my bitch

mo xi: and now I have to wear this gay virgin armband

gu mang: I need him, I'm down so bad

lu zhanxing: stand up.

murong lian: I honestly don't pretend to know the difference, I can only tell you when it's a mullet and when it's ugly

yue chenqing: how do you spell "BMW"

gu mang: bussy or ass, pick your poison

jiang yexue: don't bottom on the google doc

#yuwu #incorrect yuwu quotes #danmei #meatbun doesn't eat meat #remnants of filth #incorrect quotes #i was sad so I made this

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lieutenantfloyd · 2 years

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Any Cyclone headcanons? (Loved your music headcanons! 😁)

Thank you and of course! I have pages and pages of Cyclone headcanons that I plan on formatting and posting, but here’s some of my favorites!

Random Cyclone HCs

Was left-handed as a child but was taught to be right-handed.

Grew up in Alaska but absolutely hates cold weather.

His favorite color is sunflower yellow.

Drinks a glass of milk with dinner like it's 1950.

Loves orange juice.

Is a surprisingly good baker.

His dad was a fisherman and his mom was a nurse

His mother is from Seattle and his dad is from Boston. They first met by chance while she was in nursing school in Boston and eventually fell in love.

Beau spent the first 7 years of his life in Boston before his dad got a fishing job in Alaska.

He played both hockey and baseball all through his childhood and was scouted before deciding to join the military instead.

Was an extremely anxious child.

Is meticulously organized.

Frequents bar trivia night and has never lost.

100% drives a BMW and 100% gets made fun of for it.

Will fight getting into a vehicle unless he's driving because he has control issues and gets motion sick really easily.

Owns one of those really ugly camo la-z-boy chairs from the 90s.

Is ready for bed at 6:30 pm sharp every night.

Has an extensive personal library but it's all either non-fiction or James Patterson, John Grisham, and Tom Clancy.

Tried to learn guitar when he was in high school but stopped once his fingers started to get calluses.

Developed a really specific and very intense workout regime that he maintained for several decades.

Two weeks before his 43rd birthday he pulled nine separate muscles doing said workout routine. Now he just goes to the gym and runs before work.

When he first started to go gray, he attempted to cover them with Just For Men. He only used it twice, but people still call him Lego hair behind his back.

Has very strong food opinions overall, but especially about fried eggs. (He believes sunny-side up is superior and will fight anyone who disagrees).

Is a massive hopeless romantic.

Secretly loves hallmark movies and will 100% cry when the couple ends up together at the end.

His favorite sports teams are the Boston Bruins and the Seattle Mariners.

#B.Simpson #cyclone x reader #cyclone #cyclone top gun #beau cyclone simpson #cyclone headcanons #top gun headcanons #top gun x reader #top gun imagine #top gun #top gun maverick

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werdlewrites · 5 months

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masterlist - ao3 - twitter @ djomamma - kofi

share support through likes, comments and reblogs!

Posting days moved to Friday and Tuesday!

summary: “It felt like an addiction, I guess. Feeling so high, and then the crash when you see what you’ve lost.” Her chest tightens—words of remorse slip through her veins to constrict her insides, robbing her of air and letting the hurt flood in instead. Her lungs begin to fill, and it rises into her throat, her teeth clamped tight to keep it all in as he continues. “Then...it hurts, and you keep going back. Because you realized you already belonged somewhere, and you ruined it.” warnings: swearing lol typical school bullying? steve's an idiot wc: 3,310

Hawkins High. A fuming cesspool of wicked, ugly, and grimy teenagers. They wear masks to shield their insecurities, having too much to say all too boldly, or whispering behind a hand to a friend. Everyone’s got an opinion, and while before the incident, Autumn would take it on the chin, she’s less sure of her strength now. There’s always been some sort of anxiety before the bell rings, but she was capable of charging forward through the crowds, glaring daggers at the twisted looks of judgment and lungs ready to spit fire. Taking looks of pride and melting them to nothing—until they grow bored of the taunts or horrified by her comebacks. Now, she’s sat low in the passenger seat of a brown BMW, hiding from wandering eyes as she chews at her nails. It was a habit the girl never realized she had until strong hands grabbed at her wrist to forcefully end the assault. “C’mon, don’t do that,” her escort grumbles, practically tutting in disapproval. “I’d rather be homeschooled in the woods,” she retorts, her eyes not once drifting from the flock as they mingle at cars or walk in groups toward the main entrance. She only looks his way once he laughs, a small shake of his head sending curls bouncing across his forehead. “You’d be miserable. And I can’t imagine Hopper being the best teacher.” She cracks a smile at that, though it’s easy to fall as someone locks eyes with her from across the lot. She’s sinking impossibly lower—focus cast away in hopes they’d lose interest—yet somehow it feels as if everyone is suddenly staring at the parked car, purposefully resting far from the door to avoid the flow of bodies.

Steve had offered to take her to school for the first few days, though she didn’t find the need for it. She had asked why, and his simple response was, “Oh, I-I don’t know, I thought that maybe-maybe it would be nice t’have a familiar face? So you won’t be alone.” Maybe she was grateful at the time, settling into the passenger seat like she belonged in the early morning. And now, she feels like a beacon to pull lost souls in, though all for the wrong reasons. It’s worse than the first day of school, already anticipating the questions and theories about how and why King Steve was carting around the freakshow. She almost wished he had dropped her off on the way, letting her complete the journey on foot. “Everyone’s staring,” Autumn sighs out, arms clung tightly to her bag. He hums in reply, completely oblivious as his torso stretches towards the back seat, grabbing his belongings. “Didn’t notice-” “D’you really not care? People—people are going t’say shit. That-that’s not new for me. But for you-” He’s all smiles, already cracking the door to let the November wind pour in and cool her roaring embers. “Let them talk. They’ve got nothin’ better t’do anyway.” And like that, he’s gone. He pulled himself from the warmth of his seat and into the misty morning, beckoning her with the wave of his hand as he made his way towards the hood. The girl rolls her eyes, following suit with an unintentional slam of his door. “Fuck, fuck-” She mutters to herself, though easily picked up by Harrington as he refuses to leave her side. “It’ll be fine, I promise.”

And it is fine—for the most part. Autumn’s head remains low, and he acts like a guide, following after each of his steps and towards the sea of people inside. In here, it’s far too busy—bodies easily blend in with one another. So, she allows herself to relax. There are scattered murmurs—too incoherent to truly understand if it was about the pair or even her. But her mind is playing an evil trick, taking their nothings to warp into what sounds like her name, and suddenly she’s speeding past the boy towards her locker, ignoring the cries at her back for her to slow down. Steve is unshakeable, finding great ease in slipping by students and their cliques, finally coming to a rest with a relieved sigh as she rips open her locker. Autumn has this sickly feeling that everyone knows about the man in her home. Knows about her father's abandonment and half expects cruel notes to spill from the inside. But the space is vacant, safe for a few personal items left behind. “I told Hopper I wanted t’come back,” she mutters. “Can’t imagine why, now that I’m here with these idiots.” The locker slams shut after sorting through her things for the first period; the bag is now freed of its heavy burden and can lay easily over her shoulder. “You’ve worked hard since I’ve known you,” he replies, his eyes wandering without care as his fingers fiddle with unfolded sunglasses. “Even with your impressive lack of ability t'stay awake in class,” he ends with a laugh. It’s a long routine of restless nights. Find peace for some time before being forced awake by the faces in her mind. Even in the dark, she can find them staring back at her through the haze of exhaustion. She seeks normalcy. Blending in with every other student, as impossible as it may be.

Autumn takes note of the way his body stiffens, frozen with an unmoving gaze locked on a freckled boy across the way. Tommy Hagan stands with his girlfriend, eyes darkened black, as he wears a twisted smile of amusement. She can hear the rumors before they’ve even started, and he does nothing to ease that anxiety as his finger twirls around his temple, mouthing “Freakshow.” The teen could handle the likes of Tommy; he’s easy to read and easier to deflect. Damn near-predictable. His words do nothing but cause the girl's eyes to roll; she is already beginning to turn away when she sees Steve raise his arms. They hover for only a second before his palm connects roughly to the bend in his arm, fist high in the air. It’s a silent “fuck you," and in case Tommy lacked a few extra brain cells, he added a middle finger for flare. It’s a wild sight to take in—brothers once inseparable in their misery, now ripped apart at the seams. Autumn remains speechless, her mouth hanging agape in surprise, and she allows Steve to take her by the arm with care, escorting her away from the scene. “Assholes,” the boy spits. Further and further, he goes, dragging her along the way with a firm but delicate hold. He’s speaking nonsense about her first class, almost muttering to himself as a distraction from just how annoyed he was. Annoyed with the scene that mocks them and the fact that he was once a part of it. Allowing them to spill their poison and eat away at the hearts of others like a delicacy. “Steve,” she calls softly, and at first he continues to ramble, listing off his classes as if they were to meet up in between. An old routine he’s desperate to resurrect, for her sake or his own.

“Steve!” she cries out, planting her feet firmly against the scuffed tile, littered with crumbled leaves. The boy finally hears her, his focus whipping in her direction as he too stands oblivious in the hallway, eyes wide. “I can get there myself,” she reassures with a kind smile, her fingers reaching to ease away his touch, letting his hand fall awkwardly and empty at his side. He’s a tad bit dazed, and thoughts scrambled as she tries to veer off the path—the quiet plan made between him and Hopper. “R-right. I-I just-” “Well, shit,” a familiar voice calls out, earning a curious stare from the pair as the new company inches closer. Her knuckles are bruised, and she wears them like a trophy. A subtle threat against the sad soul should he speak poorly again, and to anyone who had considered the idea. Her cheeks are clear of assault—not a scratch to break her skin, a telling tale of her victory before being carted out of the building. “Look who finally showed up,” she teased, rolling the gum in her mouth as curious eyes drank in the sight of Autumn, observing with care. “Looks like he wasn’t full of it after all.” Autumn is left nearly speechless, casting an uncertain look toward the boy at her side, who remains equally lost and of no help. "W-who?" "Eddie," she replies, her body slumped against the lockers and hands tucked deep into pockets. "Saw you walking around town the other day. Which is odd, considering... the word on the street is that you broke your leg?" There’s deflation in her posture, shoulders slumped as she gathers up the remaining strength to not cast a glare towards the only person remotely interested in squashing the question of her absence. He stands right at her side, a nervous smile on his lips as his fingers strangle the strap of his bag. “Wha-? That's—that's crazy,” he says in a breathy chuckle, attempting to ease down the heat radiating from her body.

Steve had panicked when a few students asked about the witch who had gone missing. He hadn’t considered when the girl would show her face again or the fact that he hadn’t spoken to her properly since they fell out on that empty field. It was a rushed and poorly thought-out excuse, just wanting to douse the fire of curiosity and shrinking in on himself as they cast him suspicious looks. He hadn’t anticipated for it to make the rounds, but teenagers live for the gossip, and it spreads like a virus, despite it being particularly boring. There was pride in deflecting them, thinking he had saved her. But now he’s not so confident, and it makes him all the more anxious. “It’s actually, uh,” Autumn pauses, her focus veering off to ponder her next words carefully. “That’s just—y'know, it’s a lot more embarrassing,” she says with a weary grin. “I actually-” “Horrible sinus infection,” Steve suddenly blurts out, his pitch all too high and cracked from the bundle of nerves gripping at his throat. He sees her then: Autumn. Her irritable stare increases the pressure in his chest, and he feels as though he’s about to collapse. Heat rises to freckled cheeks, sweat building on his brow as he continues to struggle through the war zone. “Just-just snot, everywhere. Awful-” “That’s enough, Steve,” the girl cuts in. Her words are as sharp as the glare in her eyes as she leans in, intimidating despite the boy towering above. “Goodbye.” A fire is lit beneath his feet, hastily bidding his farewells as he escapes the scene, finally able to breathe again and refusing to cast another look over his shoulder, wanting to forget the interaction ever happened. The two girls are left to watch him flee, though, for varying reasons. Once he disappears into the crowd, Heather’s gaze falls back on her friend, a curious brow raised and a slight smile of amusement on her face. “Since when d’you hang out with Harrington?”

Returning to a normal morning routine was more difficult than expected. Missed assignments were handed in with the understanding of a lower grade out of fairness and a look of pity from her peers. Hopper had written letters and made phone calls, coming up with the miserable lie that her father had suddenly become too ill, and he was simply doing the man a favor by seeing she was cared for. She had dodged the questioning looks of classmates, returning to her designated seat for every class. Autumn was quiet, refusing to gain further unwanted attention. And it works, despite the fear that rattles in her bones as she looks out the window towards the treeline, where she swears a large shadow moves, long arms swaying and snarling teeth looking for prey. But the girl blinks, and all seems to vanish into thin air. The fear of a hellish monster hunting her down to finish the job in the middle of history class—or trample through the halls in search of her flesh. Fingers tighten around the book's edge laid out before her, knees bouncing with an unshakeable feeling that tells her to run. The bell rings for lunch, and she’s barely packed up her belongings, giving in to her instincts and pushing through crowded shoulders in search of some safety. It’s been hours since she first walked through the main doors—the interest in her resurfacing is now long gone, yet somehow she feels as though everyone is staring. Somehow, they know her secrets—her demons. She half expects to find Steve waiting at her locker with a look of something mixed with shame and remorse for completely dropping the ball. If not him, then Heather would surely be there to drag her along until they reached her table near the tall windows. But Autumn is left to fend for herself, allowing the flow of bodies to sweep her up and carry her out to the unforgiving ocean. The chaos of friends seeking to speak over one another crashes against the girl like violent waves, flooding all senses.

Autumn lingers at the doorway, taking in the sight of scattered friend groups; their once sleepy minds are now set alight with passion, laughter rumbling beneath the tile at her feet. Heather sits in the same place as always—just at Eddie’s side—with warmth in her eyes as she listens to his arguments against another boy at the table. It’s a heated debate—crackers practically tossed at the other party in disgust despite the look of joy to wash in only a second after. Towards the center of the room, Tommy’s table is booming with an ugly arrogance. A boy sits towards the edge of the table, hiding his embarrassment from the unheard mockery of the ones around him. His skin is discolored, and his features are mangled by an angered fist—undoubtedly the works of a teenage girl just feet away, unbothered. They poke at his weakness—his failure to stand up against a girl who single-handedly stripped him of a higher reputation. A boy once on cloud nine and feeling untouchable now knocked back to meld with the ones beneath him.

The space is overly filled, leaving no gaps for others to question the boy now missing from the group. His absence was easily filled, and the value of his friendship was discarded like trash. A black stain on some who deemed themselves worthy of only gold. The outcast sits with a target on his back—the only body to fill a table on the sidelines—without the company of an ex-girlfriend or even a Byers boy. His lunch tray is pushed to the side, a single hand tangled in his mess of hair as he contemplates notes taken in his book. The pen falls as he lets out a sigh of frustration, both hands moving to shield his vision and massage his sore eyes. Autumn is acting on autopilot; no matter the rising heat she feels burning at her insides, the closer she gets to the boy. Her things fall to the surface, causing his body to jump at the sudden noise to disrupt scrambled thoughts on homework. A single finger pries itself away to peak up at her, and despite her stern look, he’s purely blissful. “Hi,” he starts, hands now falling away with arms folded over paperwork, hiding his insecurities written in ink. She mimics without thought, a firm glare set on him until the joy slowly simmers out—a look of worry now etched in its place. “What-?” “Snot,” she interrupts, his sweet eyes now full of understanding. “Really? Snot?” His hands rise in defense, and his posture is now straight as he gives more space between them. “I panicked,” is his excuse, and all he receives is a roll of the eyes. His notes are hastily shuffled away while she dumps out her lunch—nothing compared to the leftovers she would take from the dinner prior. But a sandwich and some chips would do in such desperate times. At first, lunch between them is quiet. Their troubled minds are all too loud, screaming with uncertainties about what to say or how to behave.

Laughter erupts from Tommy’s place, pulling curious eyes in his direction, and it seems to break the tension. Steve scoffs at the sight of him and the fan club he’s built—the way he showers in false affections, letting an ego rise to the clouds before flickering out. Autumn is the first to speak, watching as he picks apart his food with a distant look in his eyes. He’s not here with her anymore, but rather far off elsewhere as his thoughts travel. “D’you ever miss it?” Her voice is enough to guide him back in. “Miss what?” “That,” she gestures with a nod of her head. “Y’know, them. The…feeling of self-importance. The confidence. Feeling untouchable.” Honeyed eyes spare another glance in their direction, refusing to linger for long before he answers with a bold, “No.” “Not even a little?” He’s mid-bite on a piece of brownie, shaking his head in response before his fingers gently part the dessert into a separate chunk. “I never wanted that whole…’King Steve’ bullshit. I just-it felt like I belonged somewhere, y’know?” He places the chocolate on her emptied lunch bag, something the two would do if only one had a delicious treat. Never wanting their friend to go without. “It felt like an addiction, I guess. Feeling so high, and then the crash when you see what you’ve lost.” Her chest tightens—words of remorse slip through her veins to constrict her insides, robbing her of air and letting the hurt flood in instead. Her lungs begin to fill, and it rises into her throat, her teeth clamped tight to keep it all in as he continues. “Then...it hurts, and you keep going back. Because you realized you already belonged somewhere, and you ruined it.” The pressure begins to build, but she's untrusting of what will come should she open the gates. Steve observes the transformation with guilt eating away at his heart; her skin is red and her eyes are glossed over. All from what he's done and is doing. Autumn becomes desperate to swallow it all down, head tilting back with eyes locked on anything but saddened puppy eyes. She forces it back, willing away the hurt by simply counting each spin of the fan high above. But she can still feel him reaching for the tattered thread between them, painstakingly weaving individual fibers back into place. He knows it may take months—maybe years. Yet still, he works to piece it all back together, if she’s willing. “I never meant for it t’go that far. I never meant-” An achingly heavy sigh spills from his chest, practically deflating his body against the table. “I didn’t want t’hurt you.” Autumn can only nod, not yet strong enough to push through, until she feels it all begin to settle back down. Lungs filled with only air and sweet relief, the nerves burning up in the pits. Meeting his stare seemed to loosen the tension, now knowing his eyes had opened and that he could see the girl and all he had done to push her out.

She lets out a sniffle, her fingers tapping at her warmed cheeks to shake away the echo of sorrow. There was a constant cry in her heart as they went their separate ways in life. Venom in every word she spoke to keep further betrayal at bay, and a guilt-ridden boy only abiding by the line she draws. That line has since been blurred. Buried and forgotten the moment he arrived on her doorstep, looking for comfort in her company. “Maybe it’s not…completely ruined.”

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retrodreamgirl · 2 years

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fast times: the cars we drive...| mechanic!steve harrington x fem!reader

was just thinking about mechanic!steve and this happened, very much flow of consciousness but im into it and will probably end up making it a series of blurbs or something (also is clearly just more bullet format which is not my usual writing style-) (no smut just some suggestive stuff)

We’re all always talking about mechanic!Eddie, but what about mechanic!Steve who comes outside one day to find his beloved BMW replaced with an old pickup truck, the paint chipping off the sides and the bumper set at an angle, various scrapes and dents covering the doors…

• He’s confused at first, looking around to see if there’s someone working on the house bc why the hell is this ugly ass truck in my driveway? more importantly, why is it in my parking spot and where is my baby???

• He finally stumbles into his dad’s office finding him sporting a delighted smirk where he sits behind the desk. Like he’s been waiting for the moment Steve walked in with that sleep dazed confusion asking about his car

The usual spiel follows suit: what are you doing with your life?...you should be in college, not working at a video store and driving those kids around town like you’re their mother…Seeing some girl who actually does know what she’s doing…not sure why she bothers with you…

Steve grumbles about how that has nothing to do with his car and he’s figuring things out in his own time…Well until then you can live like someone who’s “figuring things out”, and you’re lucky it’s just the car we’re taking

• He silently pouts for the next week, filling you in on his newest horror during your nightly phone calls— feeling vindicated by your sweet hums of affirmation when he lulls his speech unawares of the way your finger curls around the phone cord while you silently giggle at his dramatics—

• Ignoring Robin’s teasing jabs when he’s late to work the first few days, not yet used to the new car and its constant sputtering…no clue how to deal with anything beneath the hood

• He’s been avoiding the party, making excuses about work, too busy to drive them around…until Dustin is tired of his shit (concerned for his friend’s wellbeing) and drags everyone to Family Video when he knows Steve can’t get away from them to see what’s up.

“Is this why you’ve been being so weird??? This is awesome!” Dustin gapes, the rest of the party already climbing into the truck bed, Steve’s shoulders tensing at the way the old thing wobbles beneath their weight. “It’s perfect for the drive-in!” “And rides to the arcade!” “And the skate park!”

Steve loosens a bit watching them all fight over designated spots for next movie night and thinks “figuring it out” might be just what he needs

• It’s the joyful exuberance of watching everyone piled into the pickup, clearly unbothered by his lack of a BMW that drives Steve to Eddie Munson a few days later… “You want me to what?” Eddie is rolling a joint between his fingers, trying to decide whether this is a joke or if pretty boy Steve Harrington just pulled up to his trailer in a pickup truck and asked for his help fixing it up.

Steve’s explanation is mumbled (something about movies and mattresses) and after a healthy dose of teasing Eddie agrees to teach Steve what he knows and even offers to have him come into his uncle’s shop every now and then for extra help…

• Little does Steve know this is the start of his newest obsession.

• He picks up on things quicker than either of them thought he would and soon enough he doesn’t need Eddie’s help and he goes to Wayne’s shop for fun and a little extra cash for helping out in his free time

Patches of grease slowly start accumulating on his jeans, he’s taken to wearing jean vests (Eddie let him borrow his once when there was an accident with a gas can and suggested the look suits him and Steve was inclined to agree) and muscle tees, there’s more often than not a grease soaked rag dangling from the pocket hugging his ass, and he makes sure to sport the leather watch his parents gifted him for graduation, satisfied with the barely noticeable oil stain licking at the frame.

• Your knowledge about your boyfriends transformation is secondhand, Steve only filling you in on his newfound interest and the his progress on Phoebe (you hope he could sense your exasperation when he relayed the trucks new name “...ya know, because Phoebe Cates his so hot.” )

Gossip has your tongue poking through your lips in an attempt to picture the greasehead Max and El describe on one of your weekly chats (Robin and Nancy can’t be bothered to spare you the juicier details) and though the thought alone has your thighs squeezing for some sort of friction you know nothing will do it justice like the real thing.

• So when you’re finally through with exams the first thing you do when you’re back in town is head to Steve’s, hoping for a glimpse of him in action

• He does NOT disappoint.

• It’s an exceptionally hot day in Hawkins so he’s forgone a shirt, greased up jeans hugging him in all the right places—places that have bulked up since you last saw him—you watch unabashedly when the back of his hand swipes at the condensation building against his forehead and the muscles in his forearm flex against the action

Your eyes are too busy trailing his chest, the hair glistening in the light of midday teasing you down to his happy trail into his jeans, to realize he’s spotted you, your name falling from his lips

“Huh?” You finally perk up, realizing it's not a proper greeting seeing as you haven’t been face to face since spring break. “Stevie!” You nearly launch yourself into his arms, caught easily despite Steve’s attempts to save you from grease stained palms

“Missed you.” He murmurs, peppering kisses over the expanse of your face, the skin already burning beneath his touch and the way he looks…the way he’s looking at you. “Sneakin up on me huh? I would’ve picked you up.”

“Wanted to see you work.” You shrug, rocking on the toes of your sandals, waiting for Steve to notice the scant red dress you’ve chosen, one very similar to the car that’s been receiving all of his affection lately.

“s’just an oil change, nothing exciting.”

“Mmh, I’ve clearly missed a lot. My boyfriend is a sexy mechanic now.” “I’m hardly a mechanic—” “I don’t know Stevie, seein’ you all sweaty like that…must’ve been workin really hard. Deserve a break, a reward.” Steve watches the way your pointer settles between your teeth, eyes darting to the valley of your breasts then back to him taking it all in…

“Baby, I’m all dirty.” “I like it dirty.”

• And its SO TRUE!!

A few months ago you wouldn’t have thought twice about letting him shower before your were all over him but something about the sweat and musk, the way his greased up veins crawl up his arms, his body glistening with sweat, hands pushing at his soaked hair…it made you absolutely SOAKEDSMDNSJDNFJSD

• It’s a huge distraction to Steve, the way you’ll post up in a lawn chair with your shades and your pretty dresses, sometimes a hat to shield you from the sun. Usually you’ll have a magazine or a book in hand, pretending to read while stealing glances over the cover thinking that Steve doesn’t notice the way you’re biting your lip and adjusting your thighs ever so slightly

You work him up just as much as he does you, the tightness in his jeans often becoming an obstacle when he’s trying to work around Phoebe and all he can think of his taking you in her front seat—he’s kicked you out more than once under the guise of wanting that specific lemonade from the ice cream stand or sending you to rent a movie for a night in

Other times he has you spread across his front seat or in his lap with your back pushing against the steering wheel and a face full of innocence right before he rails you 10 ways…

• Since he’s been released from his father’s clutches Steve carries more of a casual dominance about him, not that it didn’t exist before but it’s no longer clouded by the intrusive thoughts clunking around his head with the weight of his parents expensive car and ridiculous expectations.

He’s nearly always got a protective hand nestled at the small of your back or around your waist, his nose pushing at your hairline when he gently dotes on you,guiding you away from an extra drink or eddie’s extended hand offering a blunt, his breath tickling against your ear as he whispers sweet nothings and guides you across the street…

• You love the way he seems so much more relaxed, his hand naturally swimming against your thigh, a carefree smile resting against his cheeks as he navigates a stretch of country road.

• Your favorite moments are when you take the party to the drive in and everyone squeezes into the back, no idea where one person ends and another begins, just laughing like nothing else matters.

Steve scolds them whenever they find themselves huddled in the truck bed. he cautiously drives careful not to jostle them too much lest one of them falls out, all of them teasing him with bent knees and 7 heads full of ideas to make him pull his hair out

• And of course Steve makes it a habit to take you on late night drives down to Lovers lake or some field just outside of town to stargaze in the truck bed, done up with blankets and pillows, your favorite snacks on deck and a new mixtape blaring from the back window.

He holds you to his chest, his scent of rosemary and bergamot still one of your favorite things in the world. He’s like this more often than not, his greased clothes all but nonexistent when he’s not crouched over Phoebe’s hood in the driveway or clad in a jumpsuit, sleeves rolled to his forearms (looking extra yummy), at Wayne’s shop.

It’s here that he hushes about the changes he feels lately and how much he’s been thinking about the future, a future with you. You remain like that, tucked between blankets with limbs tied together, kissing until the sun is peeking over the treeline and you amble to the front teeth both feeling far too smitten and ridiculous to do anything but hold hands while he drives you back home…

• Despite the favorable outcome you beg Steve to let you give his dad a piece of your mind for being such a horrible parent but the goofy grin Steve gives you the day his dad catches you ass up in Phoebe’s front seat is far more satisfactory, especially when Steve, despite your mortification, climbs in after you when Mr. Harrington all but runs into the house slamming the door behind him—

#steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x fem!reader #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington #steve harrington fanfic #stranger things fic #mechanic!steve harrington #stranger things x reader

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sattlersquarry · 2 years

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Elegia III (Steve Harrington x Reader)

Summary: You take a shopping trip to the War Zone with the gang and plan your attack.

Word Count: 1760

Warnings: Language, grief, canon-typical fear.

This takes place during the events of ep. 8, "Papa."

Read Part 1 Here. Read Part 2 Here. Read Part 4 Here.

You didn’t realize the address Robin and Steve gave you for your after-work meetup was the War Zone. The War Zone was a superstore just outside of town that specialized in guns, ammo, hunting gear, camping supplies, and a bunch of other junk you honestly didn’t give two shits about.

You stood on the curb outside the store with your headphones on, waiting for Steve and Robin to arrive. You noticed a gaggle of high school jocks peel into the parking lot, looking pissed. The blond boy leading the charge didn’t even apologize when he bumped into you.

“Hey!” you said, pulling off your headphones. “Watch it.”

He turned and scowled at you, eyes glassy like he was sleep deprived. “You watch it, bitch!”

He reminded you of Sam on his bad days (which were pretty much every day). Seeing Sam again today, even though he wasn’t real and was part of that nightmarish hellscape, was doing a number on your nerves.

You turned away from the rude jock and put your headphones back on, ignoring whatever curses he spat at you before he barged into the store.

A few minutes later, a Winnebago zipped past and haphazardly parked in the back corner of the lot.

“What doofus drove that ugly thing here,” you muttered aloud. Your eyes widened when the door swung open and Steve stepped down, still wearing his green work vest over his striped polo. “Oh, for fucks sake.”

Following behind him were Robin, Nancy, Max, and a small girl in a pink dress.

“Hey, Y/N!” Steve said brightly.

“Steve,” you said. “Where’s your BMW?”

“It’s…in the shop.”

“You’re such a bad liar it’s laughable,” you said. “Why are we here?”

“Are you the one who almost croaked at the Family Video?” the girl in the pink dress asked rather bluntly. Robin swatted the girl’s arm.

“Don’t remind me,” you said. “I’m Y/N.”

“Erica Sinclair. Pleased to meet you. Now, are we going to stock up or not?”

The girls headed into the store, leaving you and Steve on the curb.

“I’ll explain everything,” Steve said. “Like I said I would. I can give you the overview while we pick up some stuff. You haven’t heard or seen anything else, right?”

“No. Not since I have ‘Elegia.’ I can still feel it though. Like, that Devil is in my subconscious, whispering. Waiting for the second I stop listening so he can get me again.” You cleared your throat and looked away, ashamed to admit: “To be honest, Harrington, I’m goddamn terrified.”

Steve hesitated, before putting a hand on your shoulder and squeezing it reassuringly.

“I’m not going to let anything happen to you,” he said gently. “I promise.”

He sounded so sincere, it made your heart swell a little. But you brushed these feelings away as quickly as they blossomed in your chest. This wasn’t the time for a romantic rendezvous. Plus, Steve didn’t actually like you like that. He was helping out because you were coworkers and friends, and he wanted to be nice.

“Okay,” you said. “Let’s shop.”

You spent the next half-hour collecting shiny, sharp-looking things that were hopefully lethal enough to kill the Devil. Steve informed you he was a supervillain-type creature with psychic powers that lived in an alternate dimension. They called him Vecna, after a D&D character, but he could also be called One or—the lamest option—Henry.

“He killed those other teens,” you said in a low voice while Steve loaded your shared shopping cart with gasoline. Your headphones hung around your neck, the soft notes of “Elegia” audible to only you (and Steve, due to his close proximity). “And now he wants me?”

“You and Max,” Steve said. “Well, actually, you or Max. He only needs 4 gates to get through to Hawkins. That’s why we need to kill this creep before he can get either one of you.”

“What’s Max’s favorite song?” you asked. “Just curious.”

“‘Running Up That Hill.’”

“Kate Bush!” you said with a proud nod. “She’s got good taste.”

“She’s great,” Steve said, “but I prefer Corey Hart.”

“Oh, I bet you do,” you said with a snicker. “I can just imagine you, singing in the shower with a shampoo-bottle microphone, belting out ‘Sunglasses At Night.’”

Steve raised an eyebrow mischievously. “You’ve imagined me in the shower?”

“Not like that, you perv,” you said, hoping Steve couldn't hear how hard your heart was beating. You shoved past him to throw a gilly suit into the cart.

“Put that back,” he said. He placed a hand on his hip in his usual I-know-best stance. “We don’t need that thing.”

“It’s camouflage!” you protested. “It could be useful.”

“It’s a waste of money.”

“No, the waste of money is this leather jacket you’re buying, Danny-Zuko-wannabe.”

“This leather is, like, six inches thick,” Steve said. “It’s protection so I don’t have to worry about more bat bites.”

“Stop bickering,” Robin said, before tossing a small mountain of lighters in the cart. “We’ve got to head out. Now.”

She nodded in the direction of the dickish jocks from before.

“Shit, Jason,” Steve mumbled. “Yeah, let’s go.”

Your posse convened at the registers before heading to the Winnebago, arms laden with brown paper bags adorned with the War Zone logo.

“There’s one more thing I need to catch you up on,” Steve said. “I couldn’t talk about it in the store, but there’s someone else in the RV that might startle you. Remember, Vecna’s the real killer, so don’t freak out.”

“Nothing can freak me out,” you said, before entering the RV. “Not after—Argh!”

“Hey Y/L/N!” Eddie Munson, Hawkins’ most wanted (alleged) serial killer, said. He was currently crouched under the windows with Dustin and Lucas, staying out of sight. “Is now a bad time to ask you to waive my video rental late fees?”

***

In a clearing on the outskirts of Hawkins, you worked with the Sinclair siblings to make spears for fighting the bats in the Upside Down.

“What song are you listening to,” Lucas asked after a few minutes of concentrated silence.

You removed the headphones for just a moment so Lucas and Erica could listen.

“That’s pretty,” Erica said. “Does it have words?”

“Nope,” you said. You covered your left ear, keeping the right ear free to listen to the siblings. “It’s just instrumental.”

“Doesn’t that get boring?”

“Instrumental songs make me feel like a character in a movie,” you said. “Like, this is the soundtrack of my life.”

“That’s dorky,” Erica said.

“Erica!” Lucas hissed.

“No, it’s okay,” you said. “It is pretty dorky. But this song holds a lot of emotional weight for me. Since I’ve been listening to it non-stop, I’ve been trying to separate the song from that sadness. I feel like that’s just what this Vecna guy wants. So instead, I imagine I’m some kind of badass hero, slow-mo walking toward some epic battle where I’ll emerge victorious.”

“Let’s hope you’re psychic,” Lucas said, “and we’ll ‘emerge victorious’ after our fight with Vecna.”

From across the field, Steve watched you out of the corner of his eye.

“You’re spilling gasoline,” Robin chided. “This whole area is now a fire hazard.”

“Shit, sorry,” Steve said.

“Don’t apologize for being a dingus in love,” Robin teased.

“I am so not in love,” Steve scoffed.

“Oh, really? How come you can’t keep your eyes off Y/N?”

“I’m worried about them!”

“Because…”

“Because they’re our friend, and like Max, they’re in danger.”

“Bullshit. You like them, and you have since the day Keith hired them, but you won’t do anything about it because you’ve been burned by love before.”

Steve sighed.

“Could you stop being so smart,” he said, “for just a day?”

“Nope.”

***

The plan was quite complicated: Max, Lucas, and Erica were going to the Creel House to bait Vecna into catching Max. Dustin and Eddie would distract and fight the demobats protecting the Upside Down. Nancy, Steve, and Robin would sneak into the house and kill Vecna while the bats were distracted and while he was in Max’s mind.

“So, what am I supposed to do?” you asked after the plan had been laid out.

“You have the most important job of all,” Steve said. “We’re going to drop you off at your apartment, and you’re going to stay there.”

“Excuse me?”

“Y/N,” Steve said, “this is dangerous. Really, really dangerous. You don’t have to be part of this—”

“I am part of it!” you snapped. “Vecna cursed me. As much as I want to run and hide, he’s killed so many people already and has plans to kill who knows how many more. I want to stop him before he goes after anyone I care about.”

“We could use extra help with the bats,” Dustin offered.

You had been formulating a different idea in your head after hearing Max’s role in the plan.

“No,” you said. “I want to be the one to trap Vecna.”

Steve’s eyes bugged out of his head.

“Yeah, that’s not happening.”

“It should be me!” you protested. “Max is just a kid! I couldn’t live with myself if this plan fails and…”

You trailed off, not wanting to scare the girl in question—but everyone knew what you meant.

“You don’t have to, Y/N,” Max said. “I’m fine to do it.”

“I know,” you said. “But you’re my sister Grace’s age. Too young to subject yourself to his torture on purpose. Please. I want to help. Let me do this.”

The group shared uneasy looks.

“Y/L/N the Brave,” Eddie said in awe. “I say let them join!”

Dustin, Lucas, and Erica agreed. Max looked two parts guilty and one part relieved and said, “Yeah. They can do it.”

“Are you sure, Y/N?” Nancy asked.

You nodded.

“Then it’s settled,” Robin said. “Max is on bat duty with Eddie and Dustin. Y/N goes with Lucas and Erica to the Creel House—”

“Sinclair,” Steve said, “do you have your wrist rocket?”

“Uh, yeah, always. Why?”

“Are you okay to switch with me, and go with Robin and Nance?”

“Wait,” Nancy said, “hold on, Steve—”

“Absolutely,” Lucas said with a steely, determined gaze. He raised up his slingshot. “Vecna won’t know what hit him when I send a rock through his skull.”

“That’s what I like to hear,” Steve said. “Y/N, I’ll go with you and Erica to the Creel House. Otherwise, the plan stays the same. Got it?”

Everyone agreed to their new roles. You took a deep breath.

“Okay,” you said. “Let’s kill a demon.”

***

Tag List: scenesofobx

A/N One more part to go...

#steve harrington x reader #steve harrington fanfic #st fic: elegia #elegia iii #steve harrington #st fanfic

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geminimoonbeamx · 2 years

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Reality Bites: Dazed & Confused (5/6)

A/N: While this is painful to read, it was a blast to write. We finally get to see why Y/N(Peach) and Billy hate each other...and its because they’re a little too alike. @allaboardthereadingrailroad Bean has a type, doesn’t she?

Warnings: Swearing. Bullying. Underage drinking. Realistic descriptions of a couple tearing each other to verbal pieces. Semi OOC Steve. Horror at the end.

Parings: Steve Harrington x Plus Sized Reader

Summary: The end of the bonfire at the Quarry is supposed to be the cherry on top of a perfect summer. Instead, the tension between you and Steve comes to an ugly head.

Chapter Five: Love Will Tear Us Apart(Again)

Pregaming is a very dangerous business.

You’d learnt that Freshman year, when you’d spent the entirety of Homecoming in the backseat of Heather’s then Wide Receiver boyfriends car. Violently drunk, spinning, the front of your pretty green dress soiled with vomit.

Since then, you've learned to keep a count on your drinks. Blackouts weren’t on the agenda.

The conclusion was; anything over two beers before a party? You’ll be blackout before midnight. You don't ever accept more than a couple shots, and mixing the two? Is out of the question.

There's a method to your madness, a party equation of sorts. It always worked, always. In the past it had kept you from many fiesta folly, celebration carnage if you will.

Of course, just like everything else in your life lately,

Nothing was going how it should, how it always had.

Boo, Bean. Bullshit. What a lie about the Scientific process always being right.

The night is damp, muggy Indiana heat hanging heavy in the air. Ugh, you hate it, but more importantly, your hair hates it.

You’d had to absolutely douse it Clairol serum, and even then, you know that sooner rather than later you’d sweat out your sleek blowout-

Luckily, if there was anyone who cared as much about their hair, you so happened to be in his car.

Steve Harrington had come to pick you and Bean up in that shiny BMW of his. Fashionably late, a little after ten pm. He’d been to enough parties to know that nobody of notoriety showed up before nine.

You’d both informed Bean of that fact, you sliding into the passenger and her into the back.

“Aren't we going to be late, or something?” Bean wondered, tugging a little at the hem of her dress. It had come out perfect, just as you’d planned.

Short and tight and slutty, leopard print and just on the right side of tack. She wanted to look like a Motely Crue groupie, and that she did.

Steve chuckles as he cranks the wheel, backing out of your driveway and into the street “I don't think that you can really be late to a party, Sinclair- it's like, not conducive to partying”

Steve and his big, shiny new words.

They clash, his developed vocabulary and his ability to morph into a near replica of his school days self. Shiny styled hair, the red and white bomber over the crisp white tee. Cuffed jeans. Expensive tennis shoes.

You used to hate him, and his pretty hair and his exorbitant sneakers and now, he rubs your bare thigh absent mindedly, before reaching for the radio.

It’s odd.

A real mid fuck.

You suck, hard on the end of a lit pre-roll, your lungs screaming in protest.

Weed gods, please. SOS. Take away this…unease.

There’s no need for it. You’re hot. Beans hot. You and Steve arent dating, just showing up together.

Multidimensional aliens aren't real. Maybe.

It was Bean's first “official” party, the knot in your stomach must be her residual nervous energy. Had to be. Right?

As Bean swigs Orange Jubilee Mad Dog, she doesn't seem very nervous at all.

The Farewell at Lovers Quarry is as old as the town it’s self, as middle america as it got. A bonfire, bright and blazing sat on the rocky shore of the watering hole, a meeting ground. It felt primordial, and trashy and more then a tad bit juvenile.

Just the way that a High School kegger should.

You’d always loved it, the dirty debauchery. The pounding music, the never ending chatter and commotion that came with being in a large group of people. You liked being acknowledged, spotted in the crowd, having your name called,

“Y/N, wherve you been?”

“Wow, look who actually showed up”

It just doesn't…scratch the itch.

“AH! SEE!!” Heather had screeched, eardrum piercingly loud, throwing her arms around your neck and squeezing tight “I told you she was coming! Didn't I tell you! I fuckin’ told you”

She’s drunk, but that's a given. Whenever the brunette has a red solo cup in her hand, it only means one thing; full to partial black out. Maybe a fight. Possible alcohol poisoning “What you didn't tell me is that you were bringing your boyfriend, you bitch”

Her whisper isn't much of a whisper at all, and you're glad for the blush you’d already applied because your face would be flaming. You don’t even want to look at Steve.

“Hi! You're Ben, right?”

“Um, Bean” Bean corrects, looking a little bit uncomfortable with the intimate nickname being thrown around so blase. You hope she knows you're sorry “B/R/N, actually”

“Oh! Yeah! Bean!” Heathers not malicious, not venomous the way you knew the rest of the squad could get. But she is drunk, her filter dissolved in vodka, who knows how long ago “Want’a shot?”

“Sure” Bean nods, grin a bit forced but still there. Trying. There- she might have that experience she was looking for yet. Fake it til’ you make it, huh.

“Yessss”

Bean had a lot of practice with touchy feely former Homecoming Queens. Being friends with you, she had to adjust to overbearing physical contact pretty damn fast.

When she becomes victim to a Heather Headlock, she can't help the squeak she emits. her eyes look like they're legitimately going to bulge straight out of her head and you let out a peel of laughter.

This is what you wanted, sweet Jelly Bean.

You don’t notice how Steve trails behind, apprehensive- even when his former team players clap him hard on the back. Man hugs. Weird boy code hand shakes. He smiles, but that look in his eye never shifts.

Cheerleading is a competitive sport, and one day the world will recognize it as such. It’s the most physical thing you’d ever done, your body had bent and broken in ways that had made even your surgeon of an uncle take a double look.

All those fractured bones and tumbles,

And none of that shit had anything on the mental gymnastics that came with being a Hawkins High Tiger

It’s sick, and you’d deny it to anyone who asked, but you’d always kind of gotten off on it. It was a pyramid of gossip, and as long as you stayed at the tip, you got a good vantage point. It was fun, looking down on everyone.

It used to be fun.

So why isn't it anymore?

Because you’re old news, the intrusive bitch part of your brain whispers.

The new generation of Varsity Tigers are shiny, new. Young and excited, eyes glittering and hopeful. They’re only a bit younger then you, and most of them you’d known for years- and yet you envy them so much it makes the liquor in your stomach churn.

This is what this party was about. A final farewell to the Graduates of 86’, as soon as the clock struck midnight the schools books would officially update.

Your names would be gone forever, gone.

Time would reset and go on, and you? Would be stuck.

You’re not only old news, you’re Jurassic. You’ll be a Hawkins fossil, forever frozen in the Indiana mud the even bitchier, more intrusive part of your brain reiterates her evil twin.

Weren’t people supposed to have an angel and a devil on their shoulders? Instead you had a head full of bitches, and really, none of them liked you.

It’s why you’ve been actively trying to drown them in the trash can punch you’d been handed.

Shut up. Have fun. Be normal.

You wonder if people would be so eager to party in the woods if they knew what you did. If they hit a Venus fly trap with legs, would they be okay in the near darkness?

You are.

Okay.

Listening to Molly talk about how she’s road tripping to Ann Arbor next weekend. She wanted an early monopoly on Freshman rush. She was a legacy, of course.

You’d be good at that, you think. Sorority. Another predestined social construct you could fall in. Sounds nice.

“What about you, Y/N? Still taking that gap year?”

It comes from Kirsten. Bleach blonde, fake tan Kirsten. You’d never liked her, and you think the bright blue swiped across her eyelids looks like clown makeup. You should tell her of the fact,

Instead you explain for what felt like the thousandth time that yeah, you were. Maybe you’d volunteer at the hospital with Elliot. Maybe you’d go backpacking- you like hate nature but whatever. Maybe you’d blow your brains out, oh, that’s if you didn’t get eaten by-

You leave out that last part. A smile on your glossy pink lips, toss a quick “I’ll be back” before you give them your acid washed back.

Where’s Steve? And Bean? Heather had been feeding your party green friend shots, but then Kyle showed up and well now Heather was liplocked and distracted. Usual. Hargrove hadn’t gotten here yet, had he? You hadn’t seen that environmental ailment of a car of his parked along with all of the others in the clearing.

Bean had to be around here somewhere, your eyes scanned fast for the raven haired girl. Leopard print. Amber skin- the bonfire is raging now, full blast. The party packed; bodies swaying, way more people had shown this year- how long had you been sucked into the cheer vortex? You hadn't realized how much time had passed, but if you were gauging it by how many people were now here…shit.

The wedges you’re in are tall, and though you’d been on heels since the first time you’d seen how they made your ass look in a Macy’s changing room in 8th grade, the terrain isn’t meant for them. It’s too rocky, unstable. Roots and uneven ground.

“Learn how to fucking walk, asshole” you hiss at a guy, he had knocked into your cup and your hand is covered in sticky red, the sleeve of your jacket soaked.

He slurs an apology, something about a bitch, but clears the path enough for you to shoulder your way around him.

These stains would never come out, you mentally lament as you inspect the damage to your coat and dress, the vivid red that marred the baby blue. No baking soda slurry would fix it.

It’s not even Midnight, hadn't even hit the hour that everyone had shown up for. You can't leave yet, it would look bad.

Everybody talks about how fun you are, but I just don't see it,.

You down the little that's left of your drink, and drop the cup, let it roll where it may. It gets stomped on, down to flat plastic bits and yeah. That feeling isn't far off or foreign

Finding Bean is bust, the girl is gone in a plume of smoke. If you had to guess- said plume of smoke was thick Marlboro Red based, exhaled by a certain mullet having asshole.

Where the hell is Steve?

What, you can't get him to leave you alone for more then five minutes at a time all summer, but the moment you get him in a social setting he totally ghosts? It makes you uneasy, that notion.

He said it was fine, that the two of you were fine.

Ending up with the burnouts is not how you thought this party would go, but they have weed, even if it is shitty home grown grass. Youre all for Bean getting her rocks off, but did she have to run off with the tin of pre-rolled joints in her bag?

Midnight comes and goes,

The world doesn't stop.

But it doesn't feel like it goes on either, the bonfire, the people. The sky and the watering hole and Hawkins in fucking general is suspended, a snowless snow globe.

The new seniors cheer, raise their cups because fuck yeah, one step closer to being done. And the graduates, they cheer because they did it. Accomplished what they had been told needed to be accomplished since kindergarten.

You don't cheer, but you don't let your face screw up either, just suck on the end of the poorly rolled blunt that some guy you would have absolutely never talked to in school hands you.

You don't even really talk to him now, but you’ll smoke his weed.

“Y/N-:”

You're sufficiently stoned, when you hear your name called. When that familiar head of perfectly styled hickory hair bobs through the crowd. Steve finds you, standing too near the bonfire, arms crossed, a frown marring your pretty features, the flames licking and dancing in the reflection of your narrowed eyes.

“Uh, what are you doing?”

“Not like you care,” You shoot at him. “But some asshole drowned my jacket in jungle juice. I’m trying to dry it off”

“Shit, here-” He starts to take off the bomber hed donned for the night,a peace offer. Maybe. You wave him off, its fine, you tell him. Whatever.

“No, I’m cool. Where have you been all night? I feel like I've barely seen you. What? We come together but you're too cool to be seen with me?”

You’ve said worse to him, so much worse. Your tone isn't even that shitty, bratty maybe but well he deserved it. Bean had an excuse for ditching you, but Steve? What the hell.

“What the fuck are you talking about? you're the one who sent me on a beer run so you could sit and play catch up with the squad”

“Longest beer run in history, huh”

“Y/N” It’s a warning, his tone. The square of his shoulders.

But youre drunk and irritated, and not having even a little bit of fun. The music is too loud, blaringly so, and whoever is in control of it has super shitty taste, A View To Kill had been replayed like three times.

Steve drains his own solo cup, seeming to need it before replying and yeah. He was the DDD, Designated Drunk Driver, but like, that seems extensive.

“I really don't need this shit right now, I’ve been looking for you for an hour, no one told you to run off-”

“Run off? Are you serious?-”

“Look, I dont want to fight, I really dont” he grabs your arm, loose grip. “Let’s just go home. My parents are gone so you can spend the night at mine? We can get the hell out of here, and go watch that weird Gelfling movie you were telling me about”

“We cant leave yet, Steve”

“Why not?”

“We- We haven't even been here for that long. And you know after parties always beat this stupid shit anyway. Isn't Tommy H throwing?”

“Yeah, fuck no I’m not going to his after party. You don't even like Tommy-”

“I know but like who cares. All of our friends will be there”

“So? Doing what? More of this” He gestures vaguely with his hand, and you don't like this, “This shits miserable, I didn't even want to come-”

“What?” That's not true, he’d been just as excited as you. He’d wanted to be here just as much as you did. He'd been all for it, hadn't he?

“But I did, because you did. Because you wanted to have fun, but I can tell you're not. And I’m not, so let;s just go. We have a better time when it’s just the two of us anway”

“Okay you're kind of being an elitist asshole right now. What do you mean miserable? All of our friends are here” You insist, trying to force your voice party light. Happy. Because you’re supposed to be here, He’s supposed to be here. It makes sense, you can't leave yet. “Beans somewhere around here-”

“Nah, she ran off with Hargrove. They left, dude. A while ago”

Dude?

“Okay, dude” its a clear taunt “So what? You just want to go without telling anyone goodbye-”

“That’s exactly what I’m saying I want to do”

“Heather!-” You’re insisting. Throwing out the weakest argument points ever, and really, you don't even know why. Why youre playing devils advocate for this stupid as shit party, why youre trying to convince him to stay with you.

“Ditched you to play tonsil hockey with Lisnecki”

“I did not get ditched! If anyone ditched me tonight it was you-”

You’d always believed that there was a time and place for everything. The right timing, Your Uncle Elliot had taught you young, could change everything. Could make or break a situation.

Nancy Wheeler has horrible timing.

Always had. Spoke when she knew it would infuriate people. Reminded teachers who had clearly forgotten about homework due dates. Stumbled into the middle of cat fights in the locker rooms.

It was clearly a habit she wasn't going to drop anytime soon.

You're so consumed with Steve, and the ever growing tension between the two of you that you dont notice her. Wouldn't have, even if your- Steve wasnt starting to really piss you off. She’s never been very noticable.

There's a tap on your shoulder, just as you're about to tell him to go home without you if he wanted to leave so bad.

You should've known, by the look in his eye. By the way his mouth snaps shut and his jaw does that weird little grindy thing it tended to do when he felt awkward, put on the spot.

Nancy stands there, looking completely out of place. Far from her element, and both of you know it.

Any other day the two of you would be just about the same height, but you tower over her in your heels. Look down on her. Jonathan Byers lurks just behind her, in his usual Jason Vorhees fashion. Very shasher sheek.

“Um, Hi Y/N- uh Steve, hey” She greets, thin lips pulling up into a cumbersome smile as she greets you.

“Nance” Steve nods.

“Wheeler” The pseudo one word greeting you give back is short.

“I was just wondering if you know where Bean is. I can't find her anywhere, and we were supposed to meet up. I thought she’d be with you” Nancy continues. Doesn't this bitch want to be a journalist? Shouldn't she know how to read the proverbial room better?

Maybe it's the fact that she calls Bean by the sacred nickname that meant so much to you, that she inquired about your best friend.

Or maybe, it’s the way that Steve greets her back, with none of the strained animosity that he had been speaking to you with just moments before. Soft, he’d always been so soft with Nancy. So soft for her.

Either way. Nancy had always had horrible timing.

And you…well, you didn't have the patience to play nice right now. Not for someone who mattered so little, who you barely liked in the first place.

“She wanted to meet up with you? Are you sure?” Your voice is sweet, teeth rotting. Nerve exposing “I didn't even think the two of you were friends anymore”

Nancy’s already big round eyes go even rounder. Shock. Indignance. You don't give a shit. She wasn't the little doll people treated her as, and you sure went going to handle porcelain priss Nancy with kiddy gloves. Not for Bean. And certainly not for Steve.

“We never really stopped being friends. Just different paths, for a while. I thought we could all- Bean invited me here so that we could hang out”

Oh.

Hm.

“Here? To a party?” You let out a giggle, “ Isn't that that a little counterintuitive, you and parties don't really mix. The last party I remember you being at was Hanna’s Halloween thing, and well. We all know how that went”

“Y/N-”

No, Steve. This is the most normal you’ve felt all night,

“I mean you were better dressed at that one, to be fair. Which is funny because that was an actual costume party. Whats with this get up, Nance? Did you get dressed in the dark or something? Its okay. We all have our fashion faux pas But for future reference, green and pink stripes dont look good on anyone” You whisper the last part, delighting at the way her face crumpels.

The tendons in her neck straining as she swallows. Tears? A retort?

You want it. It feeds something in you, something starving and empty and gaping. Ugly. Familiar.

“What the hell is your problem?” Oh. Retort it is. She’s not a doll at all is she? Ballsy, taking the bait.

“Okay that's enough�� Steve goes forward, wanting to put literal space between the two of you. You side step him easily, crossing your arms over your chest. That smile, the one that contorts your entire face, aimed at him now.

“It’ll be enough when I say it’s enough”

“You’re being ridiculous.It’s not her fault, don't take our shit out on her-”

“I’m being ridiculous?”

“Yeah, you are. Act your age for like, two seconds and let’s go cool off. This is so below you-”

“Screw you, Steve” You spit the words right into his face. Cutting whatever else he had to say short.

You’re turning away, fast on your heels before he can say anything else. You cant even look at him, as you feel the heat lick up your chest your cheeks burn.

Embarrassment and rage intermingle dangerously, and you feel them in your throat. In the tips of your fingers, as you curl them int fists at your side.

Its not that he stepped in to defend her- even though yeah, you fucking hate that too.

It’s the way he had spoken to you. He’d literally looked down on you and scolded you, in front of everyone. For anyone to see. Like you were a child, like you were below him. He had spoken to you the way he did the kids. Like you were Lucas, or Dustin, or Mike. A child who needed to be corrected.

You're on a warpath, you don't care who you knock into. If anyone has any sense, they’ll get the fuck out of your way. You push and shove through the crowd, legs carrying you faster then they should be able to. Your ankles barely wobbling as you climb the rocky path, the one that leads to the field. Away from the party. Away from the fire. From Nancy, from Steve-

“Y/N!”

You ignore him, ignore the way he yells after you as he trails behind you, getting caught up in the crowd. Lacking the fuel like anger to push his way through.

You’re too mad to think about how you’re going to get home, you don't even know where you're going. You just need to get away. You have to outrun this. These feelings. Him.

“Really? Fuck” Steve curses as he fumbles through the dark, slips on rocks and almost faceplants “Wait a second, Y/N!”

Curse his athleticism. Curse his long legs. Curse these fucking wedges!

Steve grabs your wrist when he catches up to you, which he does quickly. You wrench your arm away from him.

“Dont touch me”

“Seriously, talk to me-”

“Talk to you? I dont even want to fucking look at you right now”

“At me? I wasn’t just a cunt to random people for zero reason. What the hell was that back there? Why would you act like that?”

You can't believe him

“Like what?” You goad him, finally meeting him head on. Steve wanted this. He wanted to fight. “A cunt? Like myself?”

“Stop”

“No Steve, you said it. I’m a cunt. I’m not a nice person, and that's fine. At least I dont parade around, with a holier then though nice guy act pretending to be decent”

Steve rubs his head, both hands, standing straight and letting out a long exhale “Dont try to turn this around on me. You always do this shit, its always the same thing. Me. I’m the bad guy. I’m the asshole-”

“You are!”

“I’m not the one who just used an innocent girl as my own personal punching bag”

“Oh! Okay! There it is Steve” You point at him, hands gesturing wildly, manic shrill laughter bubbling “Innocent Nancy. God, could you be more pathetic? How are you still pining after her? It’s been like two fucking years, get the fuck over it”

“You don't know what you’re talking about” Steve grits out. “This has nothing to do with her, I didn’t even know she was going to be here tonight”

You've seen him annoyed. You’ve seen him get chewed out by shitty customers over ice cream, seen him lose big games. Seen him exasperated and pissed.

You’ve never really seen him angry.

Not at you.

“You want a Nancy. Thats fine, go find one. Hell, go see if you can get her back from Byers. But don’t you ever, ever fucking try to chide me infront of everyone because I refuse to play boring Wonder Bread girlfriend for you”

“Is that what you’re so pissed about? You’re embarrassed that I called you out in front of everyone?”

“You had no right-”

“Fuck, really? I had no right? So you get to say whatever you want to me, whenever you want to? But god forbid I-. Why do you always have to start this?” Steve’s eyebrows are pinched together something fierce. Face sour in a way you had never seen it.

“Me? I started this?” You cry because you don't like where this is going, you don't like the way hes turning it around on you. “You’ve been acting sketch all night!”

“You did. You started it because all you care about is what these people think of you. We shouldve left an hour ago- fuck, we never should of came in the first place. But you just had to come show out for em, huh? What do you get out of it, what does it do for you?” Steve questions, and the worst part is? It’s valid.

You don't know what to say, your well of near constant quick witted comebacks going dry. As dry as your throat as you swallow around the lump that clogs it.

“What are you so scared of?” Steve pushes, coming forward. You want to hold your ground, he doesnt get to make you feel this small “Why are we here? For someone as bossy and OCD as you are, it's insane to me that you let opinions, of people who you don't even care about, get to you this bad”

“You're such an asshole-” you start, but he goes on.

He doesn't even sound as mad anymore. Just tired. Exhausted exasperation. It makes your hair stand on end.

What he’s saying, the way he’s looking at you.

“-I don't have to explain a thing to you. What, you think you know me because we’ve fucked a few times? That doesn't mean shit, it doesn't mean a single thing to me”

“Here we go” He shakes his head, a joyless quirk of his lips. “I don't know you, huh? At all? Thats such bullshit”

“You don't. What, you think because you know how to make me come you suddenly know the inner workings of my psyche? What are you so scared of? Fuck off with that garbage, Steve. You're not my boyfriend. You're a glorified booty call, you get that right? That all we've been doing? God, your parents really didn't hug you enough as a child”

The blow lands. You can tell by the look on his face. By the way he staggers, almost physically.

He gapes, mouth opening and closing. Like he's trying to figure out what to say- you're ready for it. For the back lash. For him to snap.

“It's always gonna be like this with you, isn't it? With us?” Steve frowns, disgusted.

You shrug.

Probably.

“You’re fucking insane” Steve accuses.

You start to walk away from him.

“And insecure!”

Whatever.

“And I'm done chasing you. I’m so serious, I’m not gonna keep doing this with you, don't walk away from me-”

“Fuck you, Steve!” You hiss.

“No- fuck you, Y/N. Fuck this”

Your pride keeps you from looking back, from watching him climb into the BMW. You hear the ignition though, heer his wheels ground gravel as he backs out, as he drives away.

Even though you're furious, even though you hate him in that moment,and even though you’re drunker than you’d meant to get. You he won't leave you, not really.

Steve always comes back.

Steve doesn't come back

The night is sweltering, the summer heat digging its nails in even as the stars dot twinkling constellations across the blackened sky. Hot, humid, and miserable. You’ve never felt so heavy.

You trudge down Old Mill Road, through the darkness. It cuts through the woods, and is a straight shot back into town from the quarry. It’s also a five mile hike- you’d ditched the platforms twenty minutes ago. Your feet feel no no relief, padding barefoot on the rough asphalt,

“Ow- Fuck” You hiss, for what feels like the hundreth time as you hop on one foot, rubbing pebbles and rubble away from your soft soles. A hysterical sob bubbles up from the pit of your chest and you choke on it, fighting to keep your emotions at bay. It’s fine, you’d made this walk before. Drunker than this-

There's a shuffle in the leaves.

Yeah, you’d made this walk. But never had you done it alone.

The treeline is alive, dark and ominous and gaping on either side of the road. Your ears catch every noise, head snapping to follow the sound, eyes shifting in the thick pitch dark. It’s probably an animal or something. A bunny, or maybe a deer- the coyotes in the area had ripped the Jeffersons dog to shreds last fall.

Funnily enough, you’d take a pack of rabid dogs over what could be out there.

It’s going to be fine, you chant to yourself, picking up the pace. Your calves screaming in protest, your inner thighs rubbed beyond raw.

You're just paranoid and upset. You’re not thinking logically-

Branches snap and crunch and the hair on the back of your neck stands straight, on high alert-

Your mind is just playing tricks on you, but you propel yourself faster and faster until you’re full on sprinting down the isolated road. Your lungs tighten painfully and your head spins. It has teeth, rows and rows of them, and claws. It left a crater sized dent in your hood- and it fucking killed Barb. Bean said-

A pair of headlights cut through the dark,

Part of you would’ve taken the Xenomorph instead.

The beat to shit Ford Galaxi passes you, and then rolls to a stop a few feet ahead. You deliberate bee-lining into the monster infested forest.

Instead you raise your chin and square your shoulders a bit. It looks better than jumping up and down and cursing at the sky because what had you done in a past life. To. Deserve. This.

There's only so much dignity one can have when they’re barefoot with mascara running down their face, with their shoes hanging from their left hand.

“Y/N?” Nancy calls through the open, she’s riding passenger of course. Jonathan Byers just stares at you, beady eyes hard and cautious. “Are you okay?”

“Uh-” you blank because really, what the fuck does she expect you to say. You wonder if maybe this is some kind of prank, you tell her no, you are very much not okay and she drives away cackling because you’d pointed out her lack of fashion sense.

It’s what you would do.

Nancy’s gaze isn’t malicious, as much as it is inquiring. A little too knowing, a little too concerned.

Because she’s a better person than you are.

“I’m totally fine” It’s weaker than you mean for it to be, far from the venomous retort that you can't seem to muster.

They have all the reason in the world to leave you there, stranded on Old Mill, Jonathan actually looks like he’s totally okay with that option. But Nancy persists. Pushy as ever.

“We could give you a ride home, if you need one?”

Everything inside of you protests that offer, down to a cellular level. You should tell them absolutely the fuck not, and walk away. Flipping your hair behind you. That’s how it is, how it’s been. What you know.

The forest breathes again, crunching and shifting and swaying and you swear somewhere in the distance something is shrieking.

“Yes” the words feel like cotton in your mouth. Jonathan looks as shocked as you feel, like the craziest thing to ever happen in this town is you agreeing to ride in the back of his junk mobile.

“Please, if you’re going by my place. I’d really uh appreciate it”

The smile Nancy gives you is both forced and sympathetic and you’d really like to die. Death seems like a comfort at this point, and that’s not you being dramatic.

“No, It’s okay you’re only a few streets over from me. Right, Jonathan?”

Jonathan grimaces and you never thought you’d feel any sort of camaraderie with the Eldest Byers, like ever. But as you climb into the back seat, situating yourself on the tattered leather, you lock eyes with him in the rearview. I’d rather be doing anything other than this.

Yeah, the feelings fucking mutual.

The ride to your place is too long, and you don’t think you really breathe through the entirety of it. The Guns of Brixton floats through his speakers and you cling to the thought of; maybe none of this is real. Maybe nothing has been real, since you hit that thing in the woods.

If only that were the case.

Word to the wise; If a man ever calls you a cunt and then leaves you stranded in the middle of nowhere? You better never talk to him again. Ever. Even if he does look like Steve Harrington

#steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x plus #steve harrington smut #Steve Harrington x plus sized reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington imm

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