#Buttercup Harrington is the best Harrington

[bigdumbbambieyes]

tw abuse mention

Billy had always been a dog person.

Dogs were easy to love and they always had affection to spare - at least, the ones he’d known. They were cute and excited and seemed to always like him.

Cats, on the other hand, were different for him. They could be standoffish and picky and they didn’t listen, which is what turned Billy off the most. He didn’t get why people loved cats, never understood why people worshipped and adored them, until he’d met Steve’s.

“My parents got her when we had a mice problem back when I was a kid, but she just sat around and did whatever she wanted - so they got an exterminator to go after the mice instead.” Steve chuckled as he watched the black-striped and grey cat rub herself against Billy’s shins and ankles, like she’d been starved for affection her whole life.

Billy grimaced a little, because he wasn’t fond of fur on his clothes, but Steve was quick to click his tongue and bend down to call the cat back to him.

To which she (surprisingly) went and happily nuzzled Steve’s hand when he hovered it for her. Hm.

Billy’s brows furrowed as he asked, “What’s her name?”

His boyfriend glanced up at him and gave him a dumb smile, the kind Billy only saw when Steve was embarrassed, and said, “Don’t judge - I named her when I was, like, ten. Her name’s Buttercup.”

“Buttercup,” Billy repeated with a smirk, imagining a young Steve Harrington proudly declaring the cat’s name to his parents, “That’s…a name.”

“Hey, I said not to judge!” Steve chuckled as he stood up again and reached for Billy’s hand, smiling when the blond didn’t shy or pull away once their fingers brushed, “C’mon, let’s go get a snack and watch something.”

Billy followed along quietly, his gaze flicking down to watch Buttercup as he walked by her, and she didn’t move her green eyes from him until they rounded the corner.

🐾

The more Billy went over to Steve’s, the more Buttercup hung around. He wasn’t particularly upset or thrilled by her; she was cute and he liked watching Steve throw her little toys across the room just so she could leap after them.

And it was like she knew Billy wasn’t fond of her, because whenever he’d sit down on the Harrington couch, she’d be jumping up to climb onto his lap. He’s always pick her up carefully and deposit her back on the floor or beside him - because again, cat fur - and she’d mrow at him in a disappointed tone, her emerald eyes unwavering as they stared each other down until Steve plopped down next to him. From there, she’d jump up to the back of the couch and settle there, sleeping and purring while they cuddled and watched TV or talked.

It stayed like that for a while. She was always there, included in whatever they did, whether it was relaxing on the couch or in Steve’s room - where she slept on their pillows at night - or in the backyard near the pool, watching them swim when she wasn’t chasing birds.

Billy got used to it. He’d bend down and smooth his palm along the top of her head when she greeted him at the door. He’d gently rub the pad of his thumb along the bridge of her nose whenever he woke up in Steve’s bed and she was there, waiting for him to wake up.

Then one day, his dad smacked him so hard he couldn’t see straight, and he ran out of the house and down the street and didn’t stop until his lungs burned and he found himself in Loch Nora.

He knew Steve wasn’t home because he was working, and his parents weren’t home either, so Billy rushed to the back of the house and grabbed the spare key from where he knew it was hidden.

The house was cool and quiet when he slid the backdoor shut and locked it, still trying to catch his breath as he rushed over to the mirror by the entrance to look at his face. His cheek was red and puffy, a shiner already forming under his eye, and Billy watched his face crumple in the reflection.

Tears welled and spilled, tracking down his burning face, and then he felt a familiar brush against his calves.

He looked down through his blurry vision at Buttercup, who had paused and stared up at him in return. She gave her usual mrow and Billy sniffled wetly, wiping his nose with the back of his hand as he gently pushed her off with his foot and muttered, “Get.”

He moved away from the mirror and went upstairs, ignoring the gentle ring of Buttercup’s bell as she followed him.

In Steve’s bedroom, Billy pulled his shirt off and tossed it aside, pulling on one of Steve’s from the floor because it smelt like his boyfriend. It comforted him as he moved around the room, pulling the collar up to his nose to breathe in the scent of Steve’s cologne and body as he toed his shoes off, collapsing onto the unmade bed moments later.

Only a second passed before Buttercup was jumping up onto the bed, giving Billy a soft mrow again. Slowly, he turned his face to the side from where it had been buried in Steve’s pillow, and he eyed the cat as it stared down at him. Expectant, yet patient.

“What do you want?” Billy huffed, shifting onto his side to face her and take the pressure off the side of his face that was throbbing, quirking a brow as Buttercup slowly reached out her paw to him, hovering it in the air.

“‘M not in the mood to give you any pets,” Billy grumbled, wiping the remaining wetness from his eyes, and felt her paw gently touch his forearm.

Her paw, small and soft, was warm. Comforting.

“Fine,” Billy muttered as he shifted again, flipping onto his back and patting the spot beside him, “C’mere.”

And where he expected Buttercup to curl up beside him like she had a handful of times before, she got up and walked over and onto his chest. The weight of her under those tiny paws made Billy wince, the press of her claws inevitable, but he watched her quietly as she settled on top of his chest and tucked her paws under her chest, staring down at him.

And she began to purr.

Softly, but deeply. Billy swore he felt it rattle his heart.

The tears came again, suddenly flooding in his eyes as he watched Buttercup slowly blink down at him, her tail curling around herself as she kept her perch on top of his chest.

His hands found the soft fur of her back, just holding her there, and her eyes closed. Like she was happy. She looked happy.

Billy sniffled again and gently shook his head in quiet disbelief, giving her a watery smile as he pet down her back, mumbling, “Brat cat.”

She only purred louder.

🐾

Billy told Steve about it later, once his boyfriend got home and found the two of them passed out in his bed. His pretty boy grinned so hard he beamed like the sun after he got Billy an ice pack for his cheek and ensuring he was alright.

“That was her comforting you,” Steve hummed as he pressed a kiss to Billy’s forehead, “She’s done it to me a lot over the years. Glad she was able to look after you when I couldn’t.” He gave her chin a little scratch for that, smiling down at her.

And yeah, Billy supposed that’s what it was. Buttercup looking after him and ensuring he was comforted, because obviously he’d been upset. But, it also felt like a long time coming. She’d wanted to be close to Billy ever since he’d met and he’d always kept her at arm’s length for months.

He wished he hadn’t. He wished he had let her closer, sooner.

But, he’d make it up to her.

🐾

“Billy, you didn’t have to get Buttercup tattooed on your arm—”

“Shut up — do you think she’ll like it?”

🐾

She did.

#harringrove #billy hargrove #steve harrington #Buttercup Harrington is the best Harrington #don’t underestimate the healing properties of cat purrs #buttercup is an american shorthair btw idk how clear i made it in the ficlet dkfjkdfn i tried!! #bambiwrites

[upsidedownwithsteve]

[2.1K] Steve Harrington x fem!reader 18+

The week following your night with Steve, you’d had absolutely no problem getting yourself off.

Every night, you lay in bed before sleep took over, your hand shoved down the front of your sleep shorts, fingers slipping clumsily and a little unpracticed over yourself, eyes clenched shut and lips parted silently as you thought about your best friend.

His digits were longer than yours, thicker, able to reach places you couldn’t, filling you up in a way you’d never felt before. But you could hear Steve’s voice in your ear as you swirled messy circles over your clit, chasing that throbbing feeling as you remembered his words.

“Has someone done that to you? Has someone put their mouth here?”

Cheek pressed to the pillow, pushing low whines into the cotton, legs spreading wider, knees hitched up as you fought to catch that feeling only Steve was able to give you before.

“Do you like it when I talk to you?”

He’d whispered it in your ear, breath warm against your cheek, hitching and gasping when you had tightened around him.

“My girl likes hearing dirty things, right? Like when I asked you if someone had gone down on you? If you’d had someone’s tongue here?”

Stomach tensing, the hook there tightening, skin too warm, the idea of your best friend laying between your thighs, your legs thrown over his shoulders too much for you to handle. Would he do it real soft for you? Would he lick over you like a man starved? Only breaking away to talk filth into your slick skin? Would he tell you how good you tasted, how sweet you were?

You came hard, back arching, a gasp leaving your lips, fingers moving until it was too much and you had to stop, sliding slick over your bare stomach as you relaxed back into the bed, butter on a hot day.

The next day, you vowed to ask Steve.

Just half a beer, that’s all it took. A few long drags, a movie that was never started, the tape half in the VCR and Steve’s bedroom lights low. Lingering looks, mussed sheets, anticipation heavy in the air like summer, a growing heat that settled on your skin and it fucking buzzed. It fizzed, it glittered.

“Did you really mean what you said?” You asked out the blue, pulling Steve from the TV set, leaning back on his pillows like you belonged there. “The other night, last week? About how it was a shame that no one had— no had ever… gone down on me.”

Steve stopped, the tape forgotten, his eyes wide as he looked at you over his shoulder. He watched the way your thighs rubbed together under your dress, a thin summery thing, delicate straps and material cut out of the sides, your skin on show between the buttercup yellow cotton. You watched him swallow, adam’s apple bobbing in his throat as his gaze got a little darker, the words he remembered telling you coming back to him.

“Shit, you look so damn pretty, you know that? I could do that for you though, if you wanted.”

Steve cleared his throat, rose up from when he’d been kneeling in front of the television, blurry static crackling, forgotten about. His knees bumped the edge of his bed as stood over you, breath hitching as he took you in, eyes trailing over bare legs and upupup until they settled on your mouth, the way you licked at your bottom lip nervously.

“Yeah,” he croaked, his voice already shot. You looked so pretty. He remembered what you looked like when you came, head thrown back against his shoulder, crying out his name in soft, heaving gasps. He hadn’t stopped thinking about it. “Yeah, yeah. I meant it.”

“Could put my mouth on you, let you know if you’re really as sweet as you look.”

“Have you been thinkin’ about it?” Steve asked, his voice sweet and soft. He smiled when you nodded, huffing out a breath like it was all too much. “Yeah? Fuck, sweetheart, so have I. Did you get yourself off, did you manage?”

He wanted to be filthier, he wanted to ask dirty, dirty questions. He wanted to know exactly what you thought about when you touched yourself. If you thought about him, if you got as wet as you had with him the week before. He wanted to know if you made the same noises in the quiet of your own room, if you whispered his name when you came.

Instead, Steve moved onto the bed, a little clumsy as the mattress dipped but he stayed by your feet, a hand reaching out to bravely curl around your ankle, your frill lined socks tickling his palm. One tug and he could spread your bent knees open for him, dragging you down his bed until your hair fanned over his pillows and he could push your thighs apart. Steve wondered if you’d let him.

Maybe he could find out.

You nodded, lips parted and already panting, barely able to form words. Steve’s thumb was circling over the skin of your ankle, slowly coasting upwards until his warm palm sat against your calf. He rubbed there too, fingers pushing at your skin like dough, all plush and soft and pliant for him. Your thighs parted, if just a little.

“Every night,” you whispered, eyes closing at his touch, the heated embarrassment creeping over your skin at your confession. You weren’t sure you were supposed to look your best friend in the eye when you told them you’d come on your own fingers, thinking about them. “Couldn’t help it, just- just needed to touch myself.”

You heard the boy groan, low and throaty, his hand climbing higher, laying on his side at your feet so you could feel his warm breath ghost over your shins. You let your legs fall apart again, inch by inch, eyes still closed until your feet slid across the sheets in opposite directions, knees parting. You felt Steve’s lips there, on the inside, at the sensitive skin, a barely there kiss.

“Did you come?”

You swore, breath hitching, nodding as you chewed on your bottom lip, hands coming up to press over your eyes, as if you could hide from him. Mortification was crawling over you, despite how Steve had had his fingers inside of you mere days before, how he’d watched you come, how he had a clear view of your spread thighs and the damp cotton clinging to your cunt, right now.

“Can I make you come again?” The boy sounded wrecked and the question made you open your eyes, gaze stuck on his like honey. “Please.”

You nodded, as if you’d ever say no to that. Like that wasn’t what you wanted.

You expected the boy to launch himself at you then, to grab and pull and kiss and nip. But as heavy as Steve’s gaze was, he moved slow, careful. His hands found your ankles again, one around each leg and he dragged them further apart, his eyes on yours. The static of the TV fizzed and outside the open bedroom window, you heard the Harrington’s sprinklers turn on.

“Lemme see,” Steve whispered, his tone that same sweet rasp as before. He nodded encouragingly when your hands found the hem of your dress, his smile soft, if not a little dirty. His chest was falling and rising faster and faster, his white t-shirt taught over his broad chest and shoulders. “There’s a good girl, fuck, honey.”

You flushed as you did as you were told, the hem of your sundress dragging up your thighs by your own hands. The material was still fisted between your fingers as you held it around your hips, legs spread obscenely, cotton underwear a cherry red, lace trimmed and with an obvious damp spot.

“Can I use my mouth?” Steve asked, murmuring, already moving between your knees, his stomach pressed to the bed. “Wanna taste you properly. Shit, can I do that? Please? Let me show you how good I can make you feel?”

You whined, high and needy, nodding enthusiastically as you sucked in a breath. “Fuck, can you? Please, Steve, I want that, god, I really want that, haven’t stopped thinking about it, imagining it, shit.”

You swore Steve’s eyes rolled at your words, his hands coming to curl around the back of your thighs, pulling you closer to him, nose pushing at where your hands lay over your stomach, still clutching your dress. He pressed a kiss there, lips grazing over the skin under your navel.

“You’re gonna be the death of me, you know that?”

You didn’t get a chance to reply before the boy was bringing his mouth down, open and pushing against your clothed cunt, tongue a hot, wet press over your folds, prodding gently until he found your clit between them. It was an instantaneous reaction, your body seizing up at the unfamiliar touch, an electric sensation, your body a livewire under Steve’s lips. He hushed you softly when you gave a weak cry, pushing at your inner thighs to keep you open for him.

He licked up your cunt, tongue dragging over the cotton, soaking it more and more until the fabric was clinging to the outline of you, until he could tease the tip of his nose over the spread of you, bumping against your clit. The noise your cunt made as he finally pulled your underwear from you was filthy, a wet sound that made his cock kick up in his jeans.

“Feel good?” Steve cooed, voice sticky with affection and awe for you. Your dress was rucked messily over your stomach, one strap sliding off your shoulder as he hooked your legs over his shoulders, bringing your bare cunt closer than before. Each word settled over your slick skin and made you twitch. “Nice, yeah? You gonna tell me, honey? Tell me how good I’m makin’ you feel, huh?”

“So good,” you breathed out, voice and words garbled between moans, your hands dropping from your stomach to clutch at the sheets on each side of you. But Steve wasn’t having any of that. He tsked, letting go of your legs only to coax your hands into his hair instead, hissing when you grabbed hard. “Fuck, Steve, please. More, please, feels so good, too good, I can’t, I--”

He wouldn’t have you begging, he wouldn’t dare. Steve wanted to give you everything you wanted, so he wasted no more time, surging forward the mere few inches it took to get his mouth back on you. Steve kissed over your cunt with the enthusiasm of a man who’d been starved of the one thing he wanted most. Lips pressed to you, tongue sneaking out to taste you, gathering up your slick only to press it to your clit. He hummed as you cried for him, eyes squeezing shut as you pulled on his hair, tugging him closer until his tongue was pushing into your entrance and his nose was nudging your clit.

He was shiny with you, mouth and chin wet and slick, eyes fluttering shut and rolling to the back of his head every time you gave his hair a good yank, your hips lifting to catch his tongue. He groaned, murmuring out pretty phrases like, ‘such a good girl’ and ‘so fuckin’ sweet for me.’

Steve lapped at you until you came, tongue soft but persistent, intent on you making you fall apart with just his mouth, groaning in want as he watched your entrance clench around nothing. He sucked and licked at your clit until you shattered, until you couldn’t take it any longer. Your back arched like last time, head thrown back into the pillows that smelled like him instead of against his shoulder, but Steve decided he liked this view just as much.

The boy tasted like you when you kissed him, half dragging him up your body as you panted, dress still messy around your waist, unabashed in your nakedness. Unlike the time before, Steve was miraculously still hard, desperate and aching under his jeans as he’d tried his best not to rut against the bed as he ate you out. Your palm grazed over his cock, smiled into his kiss when it twitched under your hand, his hips canting into your touch.

You only pulled away from his lips to press him onto the bed, switching your positions. Your dress fell back down, covering your sticky thighs and Steve was ready to protest, until you tucked your fingers around the button of his jeans and popped it open.

He let out a curse, breathing heavily, eyes half lidded and watching you. You quirked a brow, asking a silent question you were pretty sure you knew the answer to - this wasn’t a case of a friend helping a friend, not anymore.

You waited. Steve nodded.

#steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington fic #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington smut #steve harrington fanfic #Steve Harrington fanfiction #Steve Harrington oneshot

[soupinaboot]

Fuck it. Every Steve Harrington headcannon I have because I've been rotating that boy in my head like a pig on a stick Part 2 this is a little more in depth than the first one but only by a smug

- Epileptic, either since he was young or developed it over time due to all those concussions he keeps getting

- Favorite fruit is blackberries I have no reason

- Kinda sad but he never really had friends, yeah he hung out with Tommy and Carol but that was about it. Like after the fall out with them he was by himself, alone. I feel like if he was as popular as we think he is, he would have at least one other friend right?

- Does not have a filter at all. That one scene where he just casually says, "Oh yeah my parents are out of town because my mom doesn't trust him to not cheat on her any who!" and I feel like he just kinda does that

- Star Trek fan but he just does not comprehend that it's supposed to be nerdy (this is not my own I saw someone else headcannon this please tell me if you find them I can not)

- Absolutely sucked at ELA, could be cause of dyslexia or not whatever you want buttercup

- But on the topic of dyslexia, this headcannon is one of the main reasons why I love math nerd Stevie so much. Like, ELA test and History test are mostly long paragraphs that he needs more time to read through and his teachers don't care enough to give him extra time like he needs. But math tests tend to have a small paragraph that he can read faster or just focus on the numbers and finish on time, so he just got really good at math so he would have at least one class he passed

- Survives off of coffee, lord knows he needs it

- My most random headcannon is that since his parents were never really around or cared much for his safety, he used to hang out outside a lot and explore the wildlife around, got really into nature and animals, bought nature books etc. But his dad told him nature and animals were girly and forced him to stop even though he really loved it

- If he does ever go to college (which he doesn't have to, though if Robin went he would probably go with her), he would either get in education major and become a math teacher or some form of environmental degree

- His love language is quality time

- Among the three of them, Steve and Carol were the closest. Yes, Steve and Tommy met first, and yes they tend to call each other their best friends, but in actuality Carol and Steve were best friends. They have mean girl energy.

- He used to also play hockey when he was younger but stopped playing due to scheduling and shit. But he really liked it cause whenever he would practice there were these older figure skaters who would teach him figure skating (he kinda liked it more than hockey but he never told anyone)

- Speaking of scheduling, he is always tired due to his packed schedule. Since he was young, his dad forced him into a lot of sports and didn't really give him a break. Add that to his piano lessons, his jobs, studying that his dad forced him to do, friends, etc... he is just perpetually tired. And it fucked up his sleep schedule developing into insomnia as he got older

- Most of his and Eddie's dates are just them taking naps

- Once he meets Corroded Coffin they all become best friends. Like best fucking friends

- Specifically Steve and Jeff

#epileptic steve harrington #trekkie steve harrington #dyslexic steve harrington #hes a nature boy #i just love headcannons so much and i love hearing other peoples headcannons #like its the same character but we all just view them so differently #its beautiful #also yes some of these contradict others #stranger things #steve harrington #steddie #eddie munson #steve harrington headcanon #oh and #corroded coffin #steve harrington and corroded coffin #insomniac steve harrington #ice skating #alrighty then #im done

[iliveiloveiwrite]

I Drove All Night // S.H.

Request: hii can i request a steve harrington x reader with prompt entry ” i miss you. i miss you so much it hurts. ” ? thanks! - @kylasgambit

a/n: I loved this request so much that I immediately wrote it out after my last fic. I hope you like this! The reader is in college whereas Steve is in Hawkins at the video store, I thought it fit better with your request - I hope you don't mind. 

warnings: reader is in college, Steve is mopey and missing them, lots of fluff, lots of cute feelings and happiness, some blasphemy.

word count: 1.1k

Title: Roy Orbison - I Drove All Night

“What do you mean you aren’t coming home for Thanksgiving?” Steve all but yells down the phone.

“I mean exactly that,” You answer, the connection poor. “I have too much to do. Three essays due all around the same time as well as studying for my exams. I want to do well, Steve. You know how much this means to me.”

“I know,” He breathes, “I was looking forward to seeing you, that’s all.”

“I was too, babe.”

“You’re coming home for Christmas though, right?” Steve asks, completely aware of how needy he sounds.

His mood brightens at the sound of your laughter coming through the phone. “Yes,” You confirm, “I’ll be back home for Christmas.”

A breath of relief rushes through at your words. “Alright,” Steve concedes. “I have to go, I’m closing today. Talk to you tomorrow – I love you.”

“I love you too,” You answer easily before hanging up, leaving Steve to wallow in his disappointment.

The disappointment hangs over him for the majority of his shift. His mind running through the conversation. Steve knew how dedicated you were to your work; wanting to get the best grades possible, and to maintain them.

He understood that. Your dedication to your education was one of the things he loves most about you, but… he missed you.

He really, really missed you.

It had been three months since he had last seen you in person. Three months since he had heard your laugh, seen your smile, felt you pressed against him in the middle of the night.

Dammit, he just missed you.

Steve continues to mope for the rest of his shift. Not even watching Robin flail and do her best to flirt with Vickie, the clarinet player from band, could improve his mood.

“Has he been like this all day?” Dustin asks five minutes after entering the video rental store.

“Pretty much,” Robin confirms, reaching for her drink.

Dustin frowns, knowing full well what Steve could be like when in one of his moods. He sidles up beside Steve, nudging him with his elbow. “What’s up, buttercup?”

Steve sighs. “(Y/N) rang. They aren’t coming home for Thanksgiving.”

“Ah,” Dustin murmurs, reaching up to pat Steve on the shoulder. “I’m sorry, man. I know how much you were looking forward to seeing them.”

Steve shrugs. “It’s fine. It’s whatever.”

Dustin remains silent, letting Steve get a hold of his emotions. Dustin continues to remain silent as Steve bursts, “I just… I miss (Y/N).”

“Then why are you still here?” Dustin asks, confused.

“What?”

“Go to (Y/N). They can’t come to you, so you go to them.”

“I can’t just go, Dustin. I have a job.”

“I’ll cover for you,” Robin interrupts, joining in with the idea and blossoming in the hope of getting rid of mopey Steve. “Go, Steve.”

He doesn’t hesitate. Steve rushes from the store, patting down his pockets for his car keys. He rids himself of his work waistcoat, throwing it in the back of his car before setting off.

Steve makes two stops before hitting the road for the long drive down to your college dorm. The first to his house where he packs a bag in the hopes that you won’t kick him out. The second to a gas station; filling his car, grabbing snacks and some flowers.

The radio is his only company on the long drive south to your college. Steve switches between stations, singing along to whatever he knows. Abba, Elvis Presley and Roy Orbison all the way to heavier songs by Kiss and AC/DC.

As Steve pulls onto your college campus, the clock above his radio tells him it is just after three in the morning. Pulling up outside of your building, Steve idles in the car, briefly second guessing all of his decisions over the course of the night.

Before he can talk himself out of it, Steve exits his car – flowers in one hand as he flattens his hair with the other. Peering up at what he’s certain is your window, Steve isn’t surprised to see a light on. You were known to pull all-nighters to ensure your work was complete and up to your standard.

He’s at your door before he knows it. You’re lucky enough to have the room to yourself after your prospective roommate dropped out before move-in day and the college never assigned you another.

One knock.

Two knocks.

Three.

The shock is plain on your face when you find Steve waiting on the other side of your door with a bunch of wilting flowers. Your heart leaps into your throat at the sight of him; dishevelled, obviously tired, but just as in love with you as you are with him. Before you can utter a word, Steve interrupts.

“I know I should have called but I was dying to get to you.”

“Steve…”

“Let me finish,” He pleads. “I miss you. I miss you so much it hurts.” The words are plain but the emotion behind them is staggering. “I know your workload is crazy; essay after essay, exam after exam, but I couldn’t go one more night without you.”

A moment of silence passes before Steve says, “I’ve finished.”

At those words, you pull Steve into a crushing hug. The cellophane wrapping of the flowers is crushed between your bodies, but neither of you could care as Steve’s arm wraps around your waist so tightly you worry for a minute that it could snap right off. Your arms wind around Steve’s neck, pulling you up to his height.

“I am so happy to see you,” You breathe, tears springing to your eyes at the unexpected rush of joy that runs through your veins at the sight of Steve before you.

“You are?”

“I am,” You whisper, inhaling the musky scent of Steve’s cologne and instantly feeling at ease and at home. “I’ve missed you so much.”

“Oh, thank God,” Steve breathes, pressing his face to your hair and breathing in the familiar scent of your shampoo. “I thought you wouldn’t want to see me.”

“No!” You cry, “I always want to see you. It broke my heart to tell you I wasn’t coming home for Thanksgiving.”

“It broke mine a little too,” He confesses. “I was moping at work. Dustin told me to get my shit together so here I am.”

You snort at the mention of Dustin. “Here you are,” You murmur, “And what shall we do now that you are here?”

“Two things,” Steve purrs, smiling down at you. “One, I think you should lead me inside your room. And two, I think I should kiss you senseless.”

“I like the sound of those, Harrington. Shall we?”

All feels right with the universe once again as you lead Steve into your room. Steve can finally breathe easy, he’s driven all night and it’s led him to you.

******

Stranger Things taglist: @magicalxdaydream​ (I'm not sure if you wanna be tagged in all my fics), @neptunes-curse​ @echovqmps 

#steve harrington x reader #steve harrington #steve x reader #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things fanfic #stranger things #steve harrington fanfic #Steve Harrington fanfiction #steve harrington fluff #fluff #steve harrington imagines

[sweet-villain]

Believe ~B.H ~1

Summary : After surviving by the Mind Flyer, Billy decides to leave Hawkins. Leave you. Max. He goes back to California, has a new look and a couple years later he's back. He's looking for you, this time he gets a surprise of his life. You're a mother of a little girl, and she calls Eddie Munson daddy.

@sidthedollface2 @tayhar811 @tanyaherondale @flvneurss

Your head turned hearing the roaring of a blue Camaro comes to a stop in front of the school. A figure stepped out of the car wearing denim and as he turned to look, his eyes fell on you in an instant. You had the strap of your back up on your shoulder wearing a flowy blue skirt and a white top with your hair falling to the side.

This was the first time your eyes set on Billy Hargrove. He was beautiful, a smirk flashes across his face as he closes the door of his car. Carol and Tina gawk at him as he walked past them. Your eyes fall onto his ass. He looked good in denim.

You turned to heading off to your locker, opening as a figure appear besides you.

" hey butter cup" Steve greeted you as he leaned against someone's locker that was next to yours. Steve Harrington, King Steve and your best friend, the two of you grew up together where you spend having sleep over, move nights etc together. Nancy Wheeler had caught his attention and you told her numerous of times that Steve wasn't your type.

" Hey Stevie" you greet him, closing your locker room with your books in your hands. Tommy and Carol walked over to him, " Y/N" Tommy greets you while Carol sends you on of those fake smiles as she greets you. Safe to say you and Carol weren't on the best terms.

They walked you to class, " See you buttercup" Steve say bopping on your nose leaving with Tommy and Carol while you walked in heading to the desk in the back and plopping down. After the class got started, the door had opened and there was that beautiful stranger.

" We have a new student in the class with us this year" the teacher looks over to the beautiful stranger. His eyes roam over the classroom when he spotted you in the back.

" Tell us your name, where are you from"

" Billy Hargrove, California" he walked through the rows of students while the girls giggled among themselves and the guy held out their hands hoping it would catch his attention.

It doesn't, his blue iris's are on you as he walks closer. He plops in the seat next to yours and slouches down. He kicks out his long legs as he leans into the shoulder throwing you a smirk.

" Billy Hargrove" he says, your eyebrows is raised as you look at him with your hand covering your mouth as it leans on the desk supporting your head. Your eyes are the only thing he can see.

" Y/N L/N" you said. You removed the hand from your mouth and turned to face the class room.

For the rest of the day, Billy couldn't stop looking at you. He grew curious as you greeted Steve Harrington, Tommy H, Carol and Nancy Wheeler. Looking back at him catching his eye. He sends a wink your way as he walks past with his head held up high.

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A hand twirled you around through the music as you danced in between Tina and Steve. He was the one who kept twirling you telling you that it was more fun this way. Nancy was dancing next to Steve, but she was pouting that he took his attention towards you.

You stopped telling Steve you needed to get a drink, he followed you with Nancy by his side to get one himself. Before you can dip your cup into the bowl of spiked fruit punch, two figure approached. It was Tommy and Billy.

" We have a new keg king, so much for King Steve" Steve took his sunglasses off as he eyed Billy. You had not paid any attention focusing on getting a drink and going back to dancing. Billy had noticed your back, frown that you didn't congratulate him being the new keg king. You weren't really interested as you passed him to go back to Tina.

He watched as you danced, giggled and the way your eyes lit up as you smiled. You were having a good time.

" You have a thing for that one?" Tommy asked, noticing the way Billy was watching you. " That one? What did you just call her?" Billy growled, glaring at him. Tommy put his hands up with a chuckle.

" She's all talk but no bite" Billy had a cigarette hanging from his lips but he shoved it towards Tommy, who took it without no other words. Billy made his way towards you as his hands find your waist and pull you towards his chest. It's glistering. You can smell the leather and cigarettes off of him, you look up at him meeting his eyes. Those blue eyes stare down at you.

" Do you wanna get out of here?" He asks.

" How much did have to drink?" you asked, stepping back.

" Don't worry, doll. I'm not that drunk, I can hold my liquor. I'm the new Keg King after all"

You held out your hand with your palm facing up, a small smile graces his face as he reaches out to slip his fingers through yours as the two of you walk through the crowd to his car.

This was the first time Billy took you for burgers and milkshakes.

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You bit down on the edge of the pencil as your eyebrows knitted together as they scribbled down on the paper of homework. You had almost completely finished it when the door bell rang. Your parents were out of town on a business trip, couldn't care less about you. You closed your notebook and textbook and dropped the pencil on the side as you slide off the bell. The door bell rang again, someone was impatient.

You hurried down the steps to the front door about to scowl who would interrupt you at this hour and there stood Billy on your doorsteps. His head was hung as his shoulders were slumped, his wore a white tank top with a pair of jeans and his hair looked a bit distrusted looking like he tugged on his or combed his fingers through his hair.

" Billy?" you called out to him. His head rose making you gasp seeing the tear eyes of Billy Hargrove. Those beautiful blue eyes were in tears and his cheeks stained with tears as more kept coming. His shoulders shook.

" Come in" you step aside letting him in. He walks through the door and his knees give out from under him as he collapses on the ground. You rush to wrap your arms around him, he hesitantly brings his head down to your chest as he cries. You don't push to ask him what's wrong, you hold him as you try to sooth him by rubbing his back.

Billy calmed down after some time and rose his head from your chest as he sat on the floor, staring at it. You waited for him to say something and he appreciated that you didn't push him, you understood that seeing him like this, this vulnerable, would have him come to you when he was ready.

You stood up from the ground going to the kitchen to get him some water when his hand shot up taking your wrist in his hand, stopping you. You glanced down, waiting for him to talk. He sniffled, " I'm-m s-sor-ry" his own eyes went wide hearing himself apologize which he doesn't do. He turns his face to look at you better and that's when you see it. The bruise on the side of his face.

He grabs your hand and you bring him up only causing him to stumble into you as he pins you to the wall, a slight chuckle came from him seeing the position you two were in. A red color paints your cheeks as you gaze at him. He glances down at you with hesitation, his heart is beating really fast and he doesn't know what to do. Instead, you bring your hand up to his face and brush your finger tips over the bruise on his cheek.

You didn't say anything but you were surprised as Billy leaned into your touch. No words were said between the two of you but the look on Billy's face showed you that he appreciate the way you comforted him.

" My father, Neil did that" he mumbles. But you hear it loud and clear, " Can I hug you?" you ask him seeing he liked affection but he was hesitant about it. Billy nodded. You leaned up and wrapped your arms around his neck, he buries his head into your shoulder as his own arms wrap around you.

You two stood there for god knows how long. Billy realizes from this moment that he likes your touch. He likes being close to you.

You make him dinner that night, he opens to you about his mother. He opens about his childhood, you share yours with him how your family pushed you away. You felt like you were alone.

" But you have Harrington and those others"

You nodded, a soft smile on your face.

" Steve is my best friend, we have been friends since we were little kids. He was my first friend, he lifted me up when I was done and I'm always going to be thankful for his friendship"

Billy stayed silent.

" Do you like him?" you snorted placing a plate of his food on the table. " Me? Like Steve? He's in love with Wheeler for christ sake, that boy shows heart eyes for her."

" Does it bother you?" you shook your head.

" I'm not into guys like Steve Harrington"

" What guys are you into then?" He picked up his fork and pokes at the food. He hasn't had a decent meal in a long time.

" Blue eye, have quite he reputation, freckles across their nose, loud car" you shrugged, he chuckled knowing you were talking about him.

For the first time, you saw Billy Hargrove smile.

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Billy was never the one to tell you he loved you first. He had a hard time expressing his feeling and he didn't need to tell you, he showed you. He bought you flowers, he gave you the softest kisses, his arms were always wrapped around you, his jacket would lay on your shoulder, he'd pin you the lockers and kiss you like it was the last kiss the two of you shared. You helped him with homework, rewarding him with a kiss if he got the answer right. He tolerated being around Steve for you.

He would leave notes in your locker telling you how much he cared about you. His eyes shined when he saw the way you and his step sister Max interacted. She was a little shit, but he loved that the two of you got close.

The two of you were intimate more times than you can count on your fingers. You loved him with all your heart.

You hadn't know when he got possessed by the Mind Flyer, he pushed you away and told you he didn't want to hurt you. You saw the struggle he was fighting behind his eyes. You already have met the rest of the kids, after Steve dragging you with Dustin and Robin with the whole Russian thing.

It took a toll on you when the kids trapped him in the sauna room, he begged for you to let him out, that he did bad things and that thing made him do it. He pleaded with tears in his eyes looking up at you hoping you'd let him out.

" He's activated " Will whispered to Mike, you had faintly heard it but kept your gaze on Billy. You hadn't noticed the piece of the floor he took in his hands, racing towards the door.

Max grabbed you just in time as Billy tried to reach you from the broken small opening.

" Let me out, you stupid bitch!" he yelled. Your own eyes in tears as you stepped back with Max in front of you. El was the one in front of you all, she was the one with powers and if one of you got hurt, she wouldn't know how to feel.

You watched as this Billy crashed through the locked door, he and El started to fight but you knew deep down there was your Billy inside. You wanted to help him, you didn't know how and it broke your heart.

All hell broke loose when the monster appeared at the StarCourt Mall, Billy and this monster were linked together. You watch from behind the corner as he put El down as she tried to scramble away from the monster.

It all flashed too fast as Billy hovered on top of El for a few moments but you stared at the monster that was losing. The kids had a plan, but your main focus was on Billy. Your feet took over as you ran to him, your hands reached out to Billy, but the Mind Flyer had it's own plan. Just before it grazed Billy, you tugged him away and stepped in front of him.

You weren't going to play the hero today as you thought as El dragged you away. The monster all of suddenly fell, Billy stood against the wall with his eyes closed catching his breath.

Everything was okay. For now.

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" I can't stay here, doll. I don't belong here and there is nothing for me here" Billy stood by his Camaro. His bags were packed in his car already.

" What about me? Don't I mean anything to you?" your heart cracked in two seeing he was quick to get out of Hawkins, leaving you behind.

" You do" you takes a step towards you and cups your face with both his hands. His thumb run over the adam apple of your cheeks looking down at you with love in his eyes. A tear falls down your cheeks with more coming.

It hurts Billy to see you like this but after everything with the Mind Flyer, he was scared. He didn't feel like himself anymore and he had to get away.

" I love you Billy" you spoke for the very first time those words. Hoping those words will make him stay. His own tears start to fall, " Doll.." you grab a fistful of his shirt and tug him down as you plant your lips on his, kissing him with all the love, all the want, everything you had for him. You put it all into that kiss. He matches your energy, kissing you back but pulls away too quickly for your account.

He looks at you with those shining blue eyes, those freckles that you love to trace with your fingers, that smile on his face. He only smiled at you like that. He did really love you and you were the best thing to happen to him.

" I love you" he whispers, pecking your lips one more time as he steps back. You watch as he walks to the driver seat of his car, he gets in and sits there for a moment. You run to the driver side looking at him, he turns his head watching as you sob your heart out and plead for him not to go.

" I love you" he mouths to you, " maybe I'll come back. To you." he says. Loud that you can hear him. You want him to say but he made his choice. He starts his car as he drives off leaving you on his street with your head hanging as you wrap your arms around yourself.

That evening, he took a piece of you with him and he never gave it back to you.

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It's been years since you last time saw Billy Hargrove. He didn't call. He didn't write. He didn't come back. He broke your heart that day. He never returned that small piece he took of you. Month later after he left, you found out you were pregnant. He was the only guy you have been with.

You broke the news to Steve, the kids, to Max and they all promised that they were going to be by your side. You weren't alone in this like you thought you would be.

Lilly Willow L/N

That became your daughters name. You gave her middle name to have a part of her father. She was the most beautiful little thing you have ever seen. She grew into the exact copy of her father with this dirty blonde curls and those blue eyes. Her freckles appeared on her nose just like Billy had.

Steve was over the moon, he had became Uncle Stevie to little Lilly. She was his Lilly Bear, he had bought himself a polaroid camera to take pictures of her every chance he could. Robin had taken those and put them in a scrap book gifting it to you on your birthday.

Your daughter was surrounded with so much love. She had a big family.

You didn't imagine falling in love with someone all over again. Steve had introduced you to Eddie, the mane of curls, those brown doe eyes, that goofyiness, the way his eyes lit up as he talked about what interest him.

" You're a pretty little thing" Eddie say as his eyes bore into your own. A hint of red flashes across your cheeks.

" I could say the same thing about you" his brown eyes grew wide as saucers, not being used to getting compliments. His cheeks had a hint of red, he was cute.

Steve smiled as he saw the way you looked at Eddie. He wanted to see you happy.

You were nervous when it was time to meet Lilly, you have been seeing Eddie for a few months and you were terrified he would leave you when he found out you were a mother.

" Eds" you call out to him. He rose his head to meet your gaze and he stood up straighter, combed his fingers through his hair as he spotted Lilly in your arms.

" Is this her?" he ask, his palms becoming sweaty as he took sight of the beautiful little girl with blue eyes. " This is Lilly, my little munchkin"

" Hi Lilly, I'm Eddie" she mumbled some sounds and giggled, her little hand reached out to him. " Oh" he looks at you in hesitation, scratching the back of his head as Lilly continues to want his attention. Her hands grab onto his hair, looking at it with wide eyes.

" You want to hold her?"

Eddie gulps and he holds out his hands, his heart racing at the thought of holding a small little one in his arms. Lilly placed her small hands onto his face, looking at him as he looked at her with his brown doe eyes.

"Just look at how precious you both are" you stared in awe at them with your heart swelling up at the sight. " Wait!" you raced to get the polaroid camera to come back to take a picture of them two.

The picture is in your bedroom, next to your bed.

Lilly adores Eddie, since she was a little one. Those two were irrespirable. You had hoped that nothing would come between this. At least that's what you thought.

#billy hargove x reader #billy hargrove x y/n #billy hargrove x you #billy hargove imagine #billy hargrove #billy harringrove #billy x y/n #billy x you #jewls writes

[cherubkeery]

Boys a Liar

I just thought the song title was fun. It doesn’t really relate lol

Dating Steve Harrington was not a easy feat. He was a lot to deal with. Not that you minded that at all. You liked him for who he was. Liked him for the man he was becoming. He did get a bit clingy at times. But again it wasn’t something you minded. It was hard though, to get to him when he was down. But you managed.

Just the constant girl coming up to you and telling you how good he was in bed. How he’s been with every girl in Hawkins. It was starting to make you a bit insecure. Not that you would voice it out loud. You didn’t want him to know how easily it got to you. It was even worse that some girls have come up to talking about Nancy. How you could never replace her in his heart. You were a rebound, a joke. These girls knew exactly where to hit you where it hurt. So for a couple of days, you’ve been very MIA.

“Hey buttercup.” Eddie said, greeting you as he sat down next to you. You gave him a smile before handing him the popcorn you made for him and you. He was your best friend and knew everything there was to know about you. The only thing was you hadn’t told him about the whole Steve situation. You decided to keep it to yourself.

“This movie kind of sucks.” You remarked and he snickered.

“Well what should we watch? This is the only- wait why don’t we go to family video. Pick up a movie that way you can see your boyfriend and we can have something actually interesting to watch.” Your heart stopped when you heard Family Video.

Little to your knowledge, Steve had gone to Eddie about you. In Eddie’s words, the poor boy was going a little insane without you. You hadn’t returned any of his calls. Every time he went over, your sister would always tell him you weren’t home. He would try to sneak into your room. But your room was right next to your parents and they could see if anyone was getting in or out. Eddie had no idea what to tell him, you hadn’t mentioned any drift. Or reason why you weren’t talking to him.

So when he suggested to go get a new movie, he looked at you to gauge your reaction. You took a few minutes to come up with a response.

“Movies are boring anyway. Why don’t we uh- go to the uh-.” You said, cringing at yourself for not knowing what to say. “The record store! Why not there. We can listen to that album you’ve been trying to get me to listen to.”

Eddie rose an eyebrow at you, he paused the movie and turned to you.

“I know you’re not talking to Steve. He told me.”

You gaped at him, he got you there. You hadn’t anticipated Steve going to Eddie instead. You sighed and covered your face in your hands.

“It’s not his fault. It’s just that every girl he’s ever hooked up with. Keep coming up to me saying he’s going to leave you for Nancy. He’s a good fuck, etc etc.”

“See Harrington, she’s not mad at you.” You were shocked, had he been here the whole time? Did he hear everything that was said? You stared at Eddie comically.

“Traitor!” You said, tossing popcorn at him. Eddie laughed and shrugged them off of him. Steve eyes soften when he looked at you.

“Eh, you’ll forgive me eventually. Gotta go!” He said, getting up from where he sat and running out the room. Steve stood there, waiting for you to finally acknowledge him.

“Hey.” He said.

“Hi.”

He sat down next to you, this was starting to get more uncomfortable by the moment. Not because you didn’t feel comfortable around him. Just the fact that he heard you. That you should have gone to him about this. Instead of distancing yourself. But here you guys were now.

“Look, I know my reputation was going to eventually catch up to me. But I promise you, I don’t love Nancy like that anymore. If anything, I kind of love her like a sister.” You watch as he played with his fingers. He looked at you from where he sat. “And those girls, those girls are not you.”

You stared down at your own hands, you didn’t hate getting vulnerable. But you did run from him when you should have told him what was bothering you. You met his eyes once more, there was so much love in them. You stared at the constellations scattered on his face. Your boy was beautiful and he loved you. You knew that.

“I love you so much. It hurts to breathe sometimes.” You reached over to cup his face.

“I love you too, Stevie. I’m sorry I ran.”

“It’s okay. I understand why you did it.” You leaned in close to him and placed a kiss on his cheek. He smiled. Then he placed a kiss on your lips. “Now I can have you in my arms again.” He tackled you to the ground and cuddled you close. You laughed and wrapped your arms around his neck.

You loved him and he loved you. There was nothing more better for you to ask for.

“You’re still going to kill Eddie? Aren’t you.”

“Yep.”

#stranger things #stranger things x reader #steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington imagine

[once-upon-an-imagine]

It's been a very long week and it being that time of the month definitely did not help 😂 I've had more mood swings than I felt in a while and I am so exhausted! so I am going to bed but I want to write and update Smile this weekend but I only have a few sentences and ideas written down so far (anyone who wants to come into my inbox with suggestions or ideas is more than welcome!)

I also have some stories that I already started and are either half-way there or literally only one part missing 😂 so I wanna try writing one of those next!

thank you for always voting and for all your patience and love, dearies! summaries   and descriptions of each request are below!

Argyle - Cielito Lindo

[Byers!Reader] Argyle is staying with your family when his parents are out of town. You know he’s been feeling down because he has to celebrate his birthday without them. So, you try to do something to cheer him up. (Sequel to Build Me Up, Buttercup) [Not requested]

Billy Hargrove - A Little Death

Anonymous - Where the reader is known to break hearts. Not because its fun for her but she does it to protect herself and the person. She is convinced that whoever gets close to her heart either ends up hurting her or she ends up hurting them so she always ends it by leaving them - ultimately hurting them before they can hurt her. When Billy starts getting interested in her and she suddenly leaves just when he thought things were going good, he doesn’t back down to find out why and once he does he makes it his mission to show her that he is there to stay and protect, despite being known for leaving and destroying. 2. Anonymous - since you are taking requests, could i request a Billy fic with the following prompts from the prompt list you talked about in your latest post ? “Wake up. You have to wake up. Please. For me.” “Just, please don’t leave me.” “I don’t want you to die for me. I want you to live for me.” + “As you begin to fall asleep, you feel a gentle kiss pressed to your temple and a blanket draped over you.”

Billy Hargrove - RIP, Love

1. Anonymous - Where the reader breaks up with Billy because he has been toxic and Billy goes and tries to find love in other women. But he gets frustrated because they don’t touch him (physically and mentally) the way the reader always did. He gets angry trying to teach them but none come close to the actual thing until he gets so frustrated that he crawls back to her and tries everything to fix it. 2. Anonymous - “I feel like I’m falling apart.” with Billy Hargrove?

Billy Hargrove - Highway To Hell

[Munson!Reader] When you are tired of your brother and your boyfriend arguing all the time, you come up with a plan that finally makes them work together and at least not murder each other.

Steve Harrington & Eddie Munson - Pink Shirt

This was not requested is just a small thought I had based on the fourth pic of this post

Steve Harrington & Eddie Munson - Any Way You Want It

Against your boyfriends’ wishes, you decide it’s what’s best for everyone if you are the bait for Vecna. You stay back in the attic with Max and Lucas. Steve and Eddie try to make it back as quickly as they can but it might be too late. (Warning: reader is cursed by Vecna and gets hurt) [I have renamed this story like 50 times 😂 ]

Steve Harrington & Eddie Munson - Nothing's Gonna Stop Us Now

Everyone in your group could feel the sexual tension between you, Steve, and Eddie. Which is probably why they all ganged up and planned to have the three of you share a bed to see if you would finally admit your feelings. 

Steve Harrington & Eddie Munson - A Sunday Kind Of Love

For six months, you had been fine with having a secret relationship with Steve Harrington and Eddie Munson. But that changes when a very special day for you approaches and you want them both by your side and for that to happen, a few rules might get broken. [Not Requested]

Sirius Black - Just Give Me A Reason (Ch5)

[Snape!Reader] Coming back for another year in Hogwarts meant you and your brother were away from your worst tormentor. But when your school tormentor finds out about it, things are about to change and you are not sure if that’s a good thing or a bad thing. (Warning: mentions of abuse)

Charlie Weasley - Jaded (Ch2)

Charlie Weasley had been the biggest pain in the ass for the majority of your life. Especially now that you had to survive two weeks with him, and four dragons.

Evan Buckley - Brave

[Not requested] something I’ve been thinking of where Evan notices something’s making you upset when you reveal your new haircut to the team and it leads to some confessions (a bit angsty but happy ending)

#stranger things imagine #argyle #argyle x reader #argyle imagine #billy hargrove #billy hargrove x reader #billy hargrove imagine #steddie #steddie x reader #steddie x imagine #marauders imagine #sirius black #sirius black x reader #harry potter imagine #charlie weasley #charlie weasley x reader #charlie weasley imagine #theodore nott #theodore nott x reader #9-1-1 imagine #evan buckley #evan buckley x reader #evan buckley imagine

[eddiesbug]

📸 - It said steamy and o I got carried away in a literal sense soooo, walking in on Steve Harrington showering. I feel like there's a few routes, established relationship sure, but also accidental friend walking in and...????

Do with that what you will if you can!!

Mwah! Congrats!! 😘❤

oh my GOD i love this so much😩🫶 and i got carried away with this but it was SO fun hehehe

content warnings: smut (p in v) 16+, so much praise, shower smut (😩), confessions of love<33, steve and reader are best friends + implied roommates , 1.6k words (i know🫣)

A thin layer of fog clouds the entire bathroom as you nudge open the door, arms full with laundry. You blink through thick lashes, coming to a firm and short stop as you spot a sliver of Steve's bare legs through the shower curtain. He hums the melody to some upbeat song you’ve never heard, voice rasping but pleasant on the ears, and your eyes involuntarily begin a descent, raking over his bare legs and ass all the way to his feet. You shouldn’t be looking at him like this; he’s your best friend. Sure, you’ve always been attracted to him, maybe a little bit in love (and very poor at hiding it), but this is so wrong. You shake your head, doing your best to avert your eyes but then he’s turning. His chest stares you in the face and he’s hairy. You spin, dropping the laundry basket in your haste and cursing. Steve grins, pointed teeth glaring at you through fleshy lips.

“Whatcha doin’?” His nonchalance catches you off guard; you recoil.

“Shit, I’m sorry, Stevie. I’m going!” You clamp a hand over your eyes, though you’re not even facing him, and he laughs, interrupting your spiralling thoughts.

“Babe, I’m covered. Look at me a sec.” You creep back round to face him, eyes opening to slits and finding him obscured completely by the shower curtain bar his face. Once he has your attention, he’s smiling again. Not in a mean way, he asks, “Were you checking me out?”

“Sorry,” you say again, quickly, heat rushing to your neck and face. Your eyes go a little glassy and you stumble trying to gather all the clothes you dropped. Steve’s arm darts out to grab your wrist, tiny droplets of water trailing along your arm from his.

“Don’t be sorry.” You cock a brow, puzzled. Your eyes flit away and then back to his face, and within that split second his gaze has changed. His eyes are half-lidded, clouded with lust. Honey brown eyes blown to almost black.

“Stevie…” you murmur. He groans.

“Fuck, I hate people calling me that but I just can’t when it’s you. You just sound so cute. C’mere.” He beckons you closer until you’re at the foot of the tub. You tilt your head. “Come in with me, buttercup.”

“Are you sure?” You worry at your bottom lip and his deft fingers tug at the hem of your shirt, asking for permission. You nod, giving him enough leeway to pull it over your head and discard it.

“Buttercup, I want you. Always have.”

“I want you, Stevie. Never thought I stood a chance.”

“You’re beautiful,” he tells you, “So beautiful, how could I not?”

The leggings are next to go; he crouches, ghosting his lips over your neck and collarbones as you shimmy out of them. Once you’re just in your underwear, lean arms work their way under yours, lifting you into the tub alongside him. The hot spray of water jolts you a little and you instinctively step into Steve’s space; he’s more than happy to have you there, toned limbs engulfing you. You prop your chin up on his chest. From this close, you can see the light smattering of freckles adorning his cheeks. Pretty, you think. His big hands cradle your face and he tips his head forward until your noses are touching. The desire in his eyes clears for a second and his breath is a sigh over your face.

“Can I kiss you?” He doesn’t even have to wait for a verbal response before you’re on him. He smiles into the kiss, guiding your hands to his waist when you falter. Your hands turn uncharacteristically cruel against his skin as the kiss deepens, one hand staying firmly planted on his side and the other finding his wet hair. Steve guides you back against the tiled wall and lifts your leg, bringing it to rest against his hip. Even in the midst of making out, literally naked, you’re smitten. Your lips upturn into a lopsided grin, eyes gooey with affection.

“What?” he asks, mirroring your smile.

“Nothin’. Jus’ take my clothes off, Stevie.”

“Yes ma’am.” He reaches behind you to unclasp your bra, mouth falling slack as it peels away from your glistening skin. “Shit, so pretty.” His fingers trace over your pert nipples, pebbled with arousal; you arch into his touch, head falling to his hard shoulder. His eyes rake down your naked form, everything exposed but your cunt, wet panties clinging to your pussy lips. Steve’s eyes completely glaze over, cupping your cunt through the soaked panties. His digits hook over the waistband, drawing them down your legs, his mouth follows, biting, kissing, nipping at your skin. His face travels inwards, teasing the crease between your inner thigh and your cunt before he kisses you right on your already swollen clit. You whine, impatient.

“What, I can’t love on my girl a little?” he murmurs, the vibrations shooting straight up your spine and making your knees wobble a little.

“You talking to me or my pussy?” Your voice is high and breathless, airy. Any other time you’d be embarrassed at how hot and bothered you sound, but you just can’t be. Not with Steve kneeling between your legs, gazing up at you with those eyes, framed in dark lashes and utterly enamoured with you. Steve pulls at the backs of your thighs, lifting you up and onto his shoulders. His nose nudges from your slit to your clit, inhaling deeply before his lips are on you, sucking, nibbling and kissing.

“Oh my god, Stevie. So good,” you whisper, bucking your hips into his face. He takes your clit into his mouth, sucking and swiping his tongue over the sensitive bud. “Shit, shit, shit!”

He releases your clit with a lewd pop, grinning up at you.

“Steve, please fuck me.” Please. With that tone of voice he’d give you anything you’d ever wanted.

“Yeah? Want me inside of you, buttercup?” The familiar pet name is different in this context, laced with its usual affection and a hint of something darker. You nod vehemently at his question, leaning into him as he stands upright, towering over you. “Alright, baby. Gimme your legs.” He hooks his hands underneath your knees, lifting you; you get the idea, hopping up until you’re secure around his waist. Reaching down to grab his dick, you smile triumphantly at the hiss and grunt he expels, pecking his lips as you spread the leaking precum over his tip. He presses your back to the wall, working his dick back and forth through your wetness, and then he’s pushing in. Your head falls to the juncture of his neck and you shudder with every inch he pushes in.

“You got it, buttercup. There you are,” he praises, snapping his hips up into you once, twice, three times. You make a high keening sound, trying to muffle yourself through his skin. He pinches your nipple. “I wanna hear your pretty sounds. Need to know how good you’re feeling, baby.”

“Stevie…” you murmur into his neck as he lifts you and then drops you back onto his cock. Your sounds are louder now, whimpers and mewls and this high, breathy recitation of his name that almost makes him cream on the spot. He pushes you down onto him further, rutting up into you until you’re begging, for what you’re not sure.

“Stevie, Stevie please…” He kisses underneath your ear, comforting as your breath shudders.

“What is it, hm? What do you want, buttercup?”

“Faster, please” You’re gone, eyes teary with pleasure and, true to his word, Steve pushes further up into you, pistoning in and out with an impressive speed. His mushroom tip finds that sweet spot inside of you, hand pushing between the pair of you to rub tight circles into your clit. Your lips press to his jaw, hands fumbling until they reach his face. He smiles, kissing your forehead, utterly lovesick.

“Gonna be my good girl and cum for me?” he asks; you react to his words instantly, walls clamping sporadically around him. He fucks up into you once more until you’re gasping, head tucked under his chin as you cum. He grinds you down on him through your high, peppering kisses onto your wet skin.

He gives you a minute to come down, lowering the pair of you until you’re sitting atop him, his dick still firmly inside of you.

“Want you to give me one more, buttercup, alright?” You nod, willing to do anything to please him.

“M’kay.”

He pushes you back until you’re sitting firmly on the floor, fucking into you meanly from the get go. You clutch onto him tight, pushing back to meet his thrusts even as he ducks his head to your neck, mouthing slovenly at your skin. Soon, his rhythm is faltering, hands tight on your hips as he rocks you against him until he’s cumming.

“Shit,” he moans, “Fuck, baby.” His cock prods emphatically at your walls even after he’s finished, and he grinds against your sensitive heat, hand flying down to sloppily rub at your clit. “C’mon, buttercup, need you to give me one more.” He’s fighting for purchase against your slick pussy, a mixture of yours and his cum seeping out of your gaping hole. He lets you mimic his rhythm against your clit, mouthing against your tits. Then you’re cumming again, gasping then holding your breath as wave after wave crashes through you. Steve holds you to his chest, murmuring sweet praises all the while.

After you’re both done, it’s quiet. You cling to Steve, anxious that he’ll pull away from you and leave, realise this was a mistake. But all he does is kiss your shoulder, your jaw, your lips. His heart squeezes as you tuck your head under his, kissing his throat.

“So you like me?” he asks cheekily, big hand stroking your face. You giggle, half lidded eyes lifting to meet his.

“Think I more than like you, Stevie.”

“I more than like you too, buttercup.”

#fanfic #imagines #writers on tumblr #writing #fiction #fem!reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x fem!reader #steve harrington smut #steve harrington fic #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington x female reader #stranger things fic #steve harrington drabble #steve harrington blurb #steve harrington concept #steve harrington fluff #stranger things x reader #stranger things x y/n #stranger things x fem!reader #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things fandom #st fic #stranger things #steve harrington #steve x you #steve x y/n #steve x reader #steve x female reader

[officialaemondtargaryen]

Age Of Consent [part seven]

Summary: Dustin’s older sister thinks Eddie Munson could be a bad influence on her younger brother due to their history. Can he change her mind?

Pairing: Eddie Munson x Fem!Henderson!Reader

Word Count: 3,702

What you’ll find in this series: big angst, wholesome fluff, sexual content, drug use, tobacco use, alcohol use, and a lot of profanity. This is a slow burn- buckle up, buttercup.

A/N: I say "this is my favorite chapter" every time but I really mean it this time! I haven't written this kind of content in a very, very long time don't come for me.

Read Part Six || Read Part Eight

Eddie had absolutely no intentions or expectations.

All that he cared about was that you didn't end up facedown in Jackie Haskell's front yard or go home with someone that might try and take advantage of a young intoxicated woman. He just wanted you safe and you both knew that as long as you were with him, that was the safest place you could be.

The window was down; your arms folded under your chin as you leaned out into the cold October air- eyes closed as the wind blew through your hair. It felt good, sobered you up a little bit, which you needed. For once in his life, Eddie took it easy behind the wheel. He did not want you getting sick in his van.

"You alright, over there?" He'd ask every few minutes to make sure that you hadn't passed out. You'd give him a thumbs up or a middle finger, depending on how you felt in the moment.

Stepping into Eddie's trailer was like going back in time. It was exactly the same as it always had been; Wayne Munson's many mugs adorning the walls, Vietnam memorabilia, clutter. Eddie handed you a glass of water, but as soon as you looked at the plastic cup you felt your stomach jolt and immediately made a beeline for the bathroom.

Eddie did his best to rush after you, holding your hair back as you almost dove face-first into the toilet. You grabbed a tissue and wiped your mouth with a groan. Eddie lingered in the doorway, the look in his eyes wasn't that of disgust, but of complete and utter admiration. The most beautiful girl in Hawkins, Indiana- the armpit of civilization- was dressed like a goddamn angel and hugging his toilet; eyes smudged with mascara and glitter, forehead beaded with sweat, he couldn't help but smile a little bit. Especially because he knew that you were so embarrassed. And fuck, if it didn't make him love you all the more.

"You're more than welcome to use my toothbrush," he offered and you made a face. "It's not like you haven't before."

That was true. It wasn't like Eddie and Wayne Munson just kept spare toothbrushes around for all of their guests. And when you've stuck your tongue down the guy's throat more times than you can count, using his toothbrush was the least of your worries.

"Do you mind if I take a shower?" You asked.

"Not at all," he replied. "Here," Eddie helped you to your feet and smoothed his hands over your hair, stopping to hold your head in his hands. "You're a goddamn mess," he joked. "A fuckin' beautiful mess."

"Leave me alone," you sighed. "You're being mean."

Eddie laughed and stepped backward out of the bathroom and headed down the hall to his bedroom. "If I was being mean I would have just left you there to have a miserable night with Steve Harrington." He called over his shoulder. You rolled your eyes, even though, he couldn't see.

"I'm having a miserable night, regardless."

"Hm, maybe," He said, reappearing. "But, imagine how miserable you'd be if you were in this situation with someone else." He wasn't wrong. "Here," he handed you one of his t-shirts and a pair of flannel lounging pants. "Unless you want to put your costume back on. I mean, it is absolutely beautiful, but it doesn't look like it would be too comfortable to sleep in."

"Thank you," your fingers brushed against his as you took the clothes from his hands.

"You're welcome," he leaned in and reached his arm around you, turning on the hot water for you. "Been tryin' to show you that I am a pretty decent guy. You're just too hard-headed." He was so close you could breathe in the intoxicating smell of cigarettes and cologne and smell the beer on his breath. "I'll be right out there if you need anything."

Eddie lingered for a moment longer before he stepped out into the hallway and closed the door behind him. You stood there for a moment; mind still fuzzy from the alcohol, steam rising around you, lovestruck. You knew where this night was going, there was no way around it.

He wanted it.

You wanted it.

And you weren't going to stop yourself this time.

"Hey Eddie," you cracked the door open and he was there in an instant. "Will you help me out of this dress?"

He swallowed the knot in his throat and nodded his head. You turned your back to him, pulling your hair out of the way. His fingers brushed against your neck as he took hold of the zipper, slowly, teasingly, inching it down towards the middle of your back. He dragged his pointer finger down your spine as he opened the zipper, knowing exactly what he was doing; the goosebumps rising on your skin almost made him weak at the knees.

It could have been now. All you had to do was turn to him, grab him by the collar of his jacket and pull him into that shower with you.

"Thank you," your voice was small, deciding against your desires.

"Anytime, darling," he replied. "D'you need anything else?"

You shook your head and he stepped back out into the hallway. The door was left slightly cracked, and Eddie couldn't help but watch as your dress dropped to the floor. His eyes roamed your nearly naked figure, getting lost in the bends and curves. He turned his head as you moved to unclasp your bra- it took everything in him not to look, but he did not want to feel like he was invading your privacy.

The shower was a good idea as it had completely sobered you up and, for the moment, had broken the sexual tension between you and Eddie. You stepped out of the steamy bathroom, running a towel through your hair. Eddie was leaning out the front door of the trailer, smoking a cigarette- usually, he'd step outside to the picnic table, but he didn't want to go too far from you.

"How are you feeling?" He asked, flicking his cigarette out towards the gravel drive. The cold air made you shiver as he pulled the door shut.

"So much better," you smiled.

"Good," he pointed to the table where you saw a peanut butter and jelly sandwich- cut diagonally- and a glass of water. "You need to eat something."

You sat down at Eddie's small little table and took a bite out of the sandwich that he had made. "This is the most delicious PB&J that I have ever had."

Eddie sat opposite you, a proud smirk on his face. "Wait 'til you try my boxed mac and cheese. Now that's some five-star shit, right there."

You smiled in reply as you took another bite of your sandwich and looked around the dimly lit trailer. Eddie had turned on the television, the only light in the room save for the dim light over the stove. It was quiet, the tension was building slowly once again. You kept finding Eddie's eyes, but as soon as you lock with them, you'd divert your gaze with a shy smile.

His fingers tapped against the laminate tabletop; the notes to a song that had been stuck in his head.

"Eddie," your voice was so soft, dripping with a mixture of insecurity and confidence. "I meant what I said earlier."

He looked up, eyes connecting with yours. You didn't look away this time. "Please," it sounded almost like a cry. "Please, Y/N, if you're fucking with me-"

You looked down and reached out and took his hand into yours. Your fingers skimmed over his own skin, toying with the rings on his fingers; bottom lip pulled between your teeth. When you looked back up at him through your lashes, you could see the absolute desperation swirling in those planet-sized eyes of his.

"Come here," he said in barely a whisper.

Without another word, you stood up from the table, Eddie met you halfway, his lips instantly finding yours in a passionate and feverish kiss. Your arms found their way around his neck, and his hands slinked around your midsection, picking you up and allowing your legs to wrap around his frame; all the while your lips never leaving each other. As he carried you to his bedroom, he accidentally bumped into the wall a couple of times, prompting you both to breathlessly laugh. He laid you down on his bed so gently it was as if you might break.

Everything felt absolutely right- like the universe had finally corrected itself, and every past mistake that you had both made had melted away. Yet, you also had this feeling of nervousness, as if you and Eddie were two strangers meeting for the first time. You knew him and his body so well at one point in your life, but the person in front of you was a different man; thicker, stronger, mature.

"Are you sure?" He asked, gently moving your hair out of your face.

You nodded your head in reply and he enveloped you in a kiss, once again. His hands roamed every inch of your body; slipping underneath the Slayer t-shirt he had let you borrow, which looked one thousand times better on you. His lips moved to your cheeks, your jaw- leaving a trail of the softest, sweetest kisses in a line to where your neck met your ear.

The feeling made your body arch into him; mewling as you craned your neck to allow him more access. He slid a hand up to your neck, gently wrapping his fingers around it and pressing ever-so-gently. His free hand slid underneath your shirt once again, gliding over a nipple and pulling at it with his index finger and thumb.

"Can I?" He asked, tugging at your clothing.

"Eddie," you breathed with a smile, taking his face into your hands. His hair framed his face perfectly. "You can do whatever you want to me and I promise you, I am sure about all of it."

That was all he needed to hear. He pushed himself up on his knees, bringing you up with him before pulling your shirt over your head and tossing it in a corner. You reached behind him, grabbing ahold of his shirt and pulled it over his head, leaving you both half-naked, taking in the sight of each other's presence.

Your eyes marveled over his tattoos, those he didn't have two years ago. Your fingers traced over the outlines, and you heard Eddie suck in a sharp breath at the feeling; the hair on his arms standing up as goosebumps formed on his dewy skin. You pressed your lips to each one of his tattoos, but didn't stop there- you left your own outlines, love bites, and little red marks in a line down towards his navel- stopping right before the button on his jeans.

Your hands moved to unbutton his jeans, but Eddie grabbed them, brushing your knuckles against his lips. "You first," he said with such selflessness.

Eddie connected with your lips again as he laid you back down. His lips moved to your chest, taking a moment to give attention to your tits; tongue gliding over each budding nipple, gently sucking and biting. Your little moans were music to his ears, more beautiful than any song he had ever heard in his life. He had never loved the smell of that cheap bar of soap more than he did in this moment as his nose and lips hungrily dragged down your stomach.

You whimpered at the sight of those eyes looking up at you from his position between your legs. His hands teasingly grazed down your sides before his fingers hooked into the elastic band of your pants; inching them down your legs, slowly, dragging this out as long as he possibly could. He was in a state of shock that you were completely bare and vulnerable beneath him; his breathing became shallow as he watched you lean to your side, crossing your legs in front of him as if you were shy. Your arm fell across your face, shielding you from his intense gaze.

"Don't you dare," his voice was thick with lust as he nipped at your thighs. You could feel his hands separating your legs. "Let me see you."

The second that you looked down at him, his warm mouth connected with your wet pussy causing you to toss your head back. Your eyes rolled back as he worked you out. Instinctively, you draped your legs over his shoulders, thighs slightly squeezing his face. Your hips rolled against his tongue; body shaking each time it flicked over your clit. You whispered his name like a goddamn prayer; the smallest whimpers as your fingers slid into his hair. He moaned into your core sending vibrations through your entire being, forming stars in your eyes. His tongue was unrelenting, not giving up until you were completely swollen and dripping, and when he pulled away to look at his work with a devilish grin, you almost cried. His lips shined with your wetness and had never seen him look so goddamn beautiful.

He kept his eyes on yours as he began to rub circles around your clit, watching you react to the feeling of him touching you in such an intimate way. Your back lifted from the bed, arching again as his movements became faster, rougher, harder. You were closing in on the climax; eyes clamped, lips parted, hands grasping at the sheets. He pumped his fingers inside of you- one, and then two, curling back and forth until he could feel your body tightening around him. He used his free hand to hold you in place, keeping you still, as his fingers twirled around a nipple. Once he knew you wouldn’t be able to last any longer, he pulled his fingers from your insides and immediately replaced them with his tongue. You gasped at the feeling of his salivating mouth on you, once again, sucking on the raw bundle of nerves that he had just exposed. Your hands flew to his hair as you pushed yourself completely against his face, spewing out curse words as a tidal wave of pleasure swept over your entire body.

The sounds of your desperate panting filled the room and your body went limp, but in seconds you were pulling yourself up to your knees in front of him. A growl rumbled from his throat, and his head tipped back, knowing what was about to transpire. You placed a kiss on the skin right beneath his navel and could feel his cock twitching beneath the layers. You smirked, looking up at him as you began to work on the zipper until his growing member was forcing itself through the thick fabric that had been keeping it at bay.

Your eyes widened at the sight of his cock springing free into the air; the velvet head bobbing before your eyes. Your tongue absentmindedly slid across your bottom lip, and you looked up at him; waiting patiently but still looking as if he was about to burst. He held the base of his cock with his hand and dragged the tip along your lips, awaiting entrance to your mouth. 

“Open,” he instructed and you did so obediently. “Good girl.”

Eddie's head fell back as he forced himself to the back of your throat, reveling in the feeling of your muscles tightening around his thick cock each time you gagged; his whimpering moans fueling you. Saliva dripped from the corners of your mouth and down your chin, dampening your chest, and Eddie was enjoying the sight of the mess you were creating; his eyes now dark and full of wanting. 

Gasping for air, you pulled him from your mouth once more and began pumping him with your hand. You could feel yourself becoming wet at the sight of him unable to keep control of himself, with his eyes rolled back, and his hand in your hair. You could feel the muscles between your legs contracting, and you desperately needed some kind of release of your own. You dropped your free hand to the wet flesh between your legs and slipped a finger between your warm folds. Eddie watched in delirium as you fingered yourself and sucked his cock at the same time; enjoying the sight so much, that he needed to pull himself from your mouth before he finished too early.

He took a moment, steadying himself and allowing you both a moment to catch your breath before he was lining himself up with your entrance, rubbing his tight cock head over your already pulsating clit. A guttural moan bubbled in his throat at the tightness, he had never felt anything so good in his life.

“Fuck,” he hissed as his cock pushed through your walls, feeling you adjusting to his size. “You are perfect.”

Before he was all the way inside of you, he pulled himself back out and then forced himself back in; filling you to the hilt. The size of him tearing through made you gasp, a sound that was muffled by his lips. His hips ground against yours as his movements became more synchronized. The sounds of your moans filled the room around them, along with the creaking of the mattress. He ducked his head to the crook of your neck as he continued to move inside of you, and he knew that he wouldn’t be able to last much longer; not after all the foreplay.

One hand gripped tightly at your hip, and the other was tangled in your hair; holding you close as he had his way with you. You loved the dominance, and begged him for more; begged him to move harder, go deeper, fuck faster. He had never been like this with you, but goddamn if it didn’t feel fucking fantastic. Hearing you talk to him like that had him on edge, and his movements became much more erratic and desperate. And before he knew it- with a shaking moan- he was pulling himself out and spilling his hot cum in a line right up your stomach.

With heaving breaths, Eddie rested his forehead on yours as the last little bit of his seed dripped from his tip. His lips found yours for a soft kiss before he moved to your side. He watched as you caught your breath; hair splayed out around the pillowcase, lips swollen, cheeks flushed. He rolled to prop himself up on his elbow and placed another tender kiss on your cheek, then your temple, the tip of your nose, and your chin.

If he could take a picture of you right now, absolutely spent and covered in his cum, he would have and it would have been his most prized possession. He couldn't hide the smile on his face, barely able to tear his eyes away from you; still in disbelief. He reached over and grabbed the towel that you had been using earlier to dry your hair and cleaned you up, making sure to take care of you so that you were able to bask in the high that was the multiple orgasms he had just provided to you.

He crawled back into bed beside you, pulling his comforter over your naked frame, and placed a singular kiss on your shoulder as he wrapped his arms around you. Your breathing had finally evened out, and you laced your fingers with his, pulling his arm tighter to you.

The next morning, you woke up in the exact same position. Eddie's warm, naked body was pressed flush against you- his deep breaths fanning your neck. Slowly and carefully, you turned in his arms to face him, trying your hardest not to wake him. Your eyes studied every feature; the curve of his nose, his thick, dark brown eyelashes, the faint stubble growing on his chin. The sun was streaming through half-closed blinds, casting iridescent reflections on his skin and you reached up to trace your finger over them.

"This has got to be a dream," He stirred, a sleepy smile forming on his lips. "Either that or I am the luckiest guy in the world."

"Consider yourself the luckiest guy in the world then, handsome." You replied. "Because if this was a dream, we'd be on some island and there would be breakfast in bed."

Eddie paused for a moment, his brows coming together. You could tell he was thinking of something, or rather- scheming. "I can take care of the breakfast in bed part," He jumped up. Your hands went to grab him to pull him back down, but he was too quick. "No, no, the lady has shown a desire for breakfast in bed, what kind of guy would I be to deny her of these wishes?."

He quickly pulled on those same plaid pants that you had on last night and disappeared out into the kitchen. You could hear commotion before he returned moments later, a bowl of cereal in his hand.

"Now, I know that it's not fancy, but if you close your eyes and pretend really hard-" Eddie shoved a spoonful of the cereal into his mouth, "It takes like Belgian Waffles"

He handed you the bowl and you smiled before taking a bite. "Mm, for me, it's biscuits and gravy."

Eddie smiled and placed a kiss on your temple. You share a few more bites of the cereal before expressing that you had enough. Eddie takes it out of your hands and sets it off to the side. "You taste so much better, anyways."

"I taste like Honeycombs," you laughed.

Eddie nods, "The best goddamn Honeycombs I've ever had." You giggled and threw your arms around his neck and pulled him in for a kiss. "What are you doing today?"

"Hm," you pretended to be deep in thought. "You," you placed a kiss on his nose. "You," and another one on his chin. "And, you!" You placed the last kiss on his lips.

"That's good," He grinned. "That's good because there is no way I'm letting you out of this bed for at least the next 24 hours."

Tags (closed):

@fangirling-4-ever, @nojamsonmytoast, @munson-burner, @slvdsjjk, @kiszkawagnerwhore, @bitterplacebrokendreamsmaegan, @katxn15, @itswormtrain, @itsallnonsens3, @aashy723, @buginktsworld, @in-this-minute, @peachyxholic, @colbychu, @bilbobag9ins, @cat-mak20, @bumpbeaded, @liv4193, @thisisntmyrightera, @chloepart03, @creativedogs, @simp4fictional, @serrendiipty, @equuleus86, @morganasimp26, @evewithluv, @1980shorrorfillm, @you-makeme-crazier, @icareabouteverythxng, @cyberneticfallout, @eddiemattress, @bethii1, @immybx, @sortafictional, @bbyharlow, @persona-lreference, @michaelfuckinglangdon, @cvmtitss, @1800-fight-me, @brain-of-nekoma, @eddiesgoodgirl, @eddie-swhore, @16bruises

#Okay finally a break from all that angsty shit ffs I was starting to think there was something wrong with me #three chapters left #who gonna fuck it up? #eddie munson #stranger things season four #eddie munson headcanons #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x henderson!reader #eddie munson fic #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson blurb #eddie x you #eddie x reader #stranger things fan fic #stranger things #dustin henderson #stranger things fic #stranger things imagine #stranger things x reader #eddie munson stranger things #joe quinn #joseph quinn #fan fic #fanfic #fanfiction

[bigdumbbambieyes]

deeeeeevious >:)

feeling very creative tonight can you tell much love <3 <3 <3 also this is such a cute idea 🥺 ty for doing it, love and appreciate your writing very much 🥰

omg yesss i love this word thank u kfnfkfn and omg you’re so welcome!! thank you for sending me a word prompt!

“She looks devious.”

Steve glances over to the doorway of his bedroom and spots Buttercup there, the small cat sitting just at the entrance, watching them with sharp green eyes and a curling tail.

He hums in agreement and looks down at where Billy is snuggled into his side, admiring the freckles across his boyfriend’s nose because his hair is pulled back and Steve can see them clearly like this. “She does,” he agrees, his eyes going back to the TV across from his bed. They’d just set it up together earlier that afternoon and had been marathoning movies ever since.

“Maybe she’s jealous.” Billy murmurs, pressing his cheek to Steve’s chest.

“Of me or you?” Steve hums with a smirk.

“Of me, obviously,” Billy huffs, “She likes me more.”

“She’s my cat.”

“She’s a Harrington, she doesn’t belong to anyone. Except me. Just like you.”

Steve smirks at that because he knows that his boyfriend is possessive, and it’s funny that he would extend that to the Harrington house cat. He loves Buttercup, obviously, but he’s never felt like she was his alone. She belongs to the family.

And obviously that extends to Billy because why wouldn’t it?

“Invite her over, then,” Steve hums, lifts his hand to gently pull at the elastic in Billy’s hair to loosen his bun so he can rub at his boyfriend’s scalp and play with those curls.

Billy makes a silly sound with his mouth because he doesn’t know how to call a cat but Buttercup comes over anyway, jumps up to the bed quietly and makes her way to settle in between them, her little paw placed on Billy’s arm possessively as she glances up at Steve.

He smiles down at her and smoothes his palm over the top of her head lovingly.

#harringrove #billy hargrove #steve harrington #buttercup harrington is the best harrington #thanks for asking 🤍 #bambiwrites

[upsidedownwithsteve]

Steve Harrington x fem!reader [18.7k] prompt: "Can I kiss you?" Childhood friends to lovers, growing up together, that damn garden gate, a slow burn like summer.

1979. Fever dream high in the quiet of the night. 

When you were twelve years old, you moved to Hawkins, Indiana: population twelve thousand. 

It had cedar lined streets, an old town hall, an outdoor pool behind a chain link fence, one supermarket and a boy next door called Steve Harrington. 

You saw him from your bedroom window, his across from yours, the house your parents bought only a stone's throw away from his. He waved at you through the glass, smile wide, hair messy and wild. He had a scrape on his cheek from falling off his bike, a poster above his bed for a band you’d never heard of. 

The next morning, he knocked on your front door and asked you if you wanted to go to the arcade with him. You rode on the back of his bike, hands clutching his shoulders, eyes bright and wide and Steve shared a slushie with you, tongues raspberry blue, cheeks sticky and sun kissed. 

He taught you how to play pac man, hands already so much bigger than yours when he slid them over your own, joystick between your fingers, laughter bubbling in your chest when you won. 

Steve came back the next morning, and the next, the days bleeding into one long summer in a new town that was all wheat fields and quarries, dust roads and white picket fences. 

Then a year later, a week after your thirteenth birthday, you came home from your grandparents in the new dress your parents bought you, a pretty, sunflower yellow thing that fell to your knees and fluttered when you spun. 

You ran straight to the Harrington’s house, one hand knocking impatiently on the door, the other holding the box of sugar cookies you had insisted on saving and taking home to Steve. 

You weren’t sure when it had happened, not really. But at some point over the course of twelve months, Steve Harrington had become your best friend. It happened the way summer did, a slow roll into warmth and blue skies, the familiarity of seeing him every day, the same way the sun slipped through the cracks in your bedroom window shutters. 

He was bike rides, fresh banana muffins from the bakery on Main Street, water balloon fights when you were supposed to be in bed, running in the back yard as your parents shared wine and barbecue dinners. He got taller, his hair got wilder and you both got closer. 

Steve opened the door, smile wide, eyes bright, just for you. He took a cookie and your hand, leading you to his bedroom as his parents yelled out their greetings from the kitchen and you tumbled into his room, chest bursting with how happy you were ‘cause the entire car ride home, you had been so excited to see Steve. 

Steve had too many pillows on his too big bed, a guitar in the corner, a basketball shirt in a frame above his desk. There were books lining shelves, a stereo on his dresser and towers of cassette tapes. His room always smelled like fresh air and boy, something minty, the summer sneaking in from his always open window, the chlorine from the pool below. 

He’d turned to you then, eyes wide and cheeks blushing, taking in your bare shins with their new bruises, one from falling in your skates, the other from tripping outside the library. Steve was yet to turn fourteen but he decided then that yellow was his favourite colour, buttercup bright, that deep rich shade that was painted on your dress. 

“You look like a princess,” he said earnestly, voice soft with embarrassment ‘cause Kyle from school said it wasn’t cool to be best friends with a girl. 

Steve had told him to shut up, brows knitted together, cheeks blushing and he’d spent that rest of recess so confused, ‘cause the boy thought you were the coolest person he knew. 

You flushed at his words, nose scrunched and you picked at the hem of your dress, dipping into a clumsy curtsy, the way all the Disney princess did on the tapes your mom let you watch. 

“Thanks,” you beamed, all teeth and sore cheeks ‘cause Steve always made you smile real hard. 

You felt nervous then, wondering where you and your yellow sundress fit into Steve’s room, but the moment broke, that unfamiliar jitter in your stomach disappeared Steve tugged you down onto his navy blue carpet, NES console beeping as it came to life and he handed you the extra controller, smile bright. 

The day turned to night too quickly, the way it always did when you were with Steve, and soon enough the Harrington’s phone was ringing and Steve’s mom was yelling up the stairs, telling you it was time to go home for dinner. 

Steve walked you out like he always did, shoulders touching as you both hurried down the stairs, eyes tired from the TV screen, fingers sticky from sugar cookies. The sun was just starting to set, the world outside was hazy and peach coloured, lavender clouds low in the sky and everything smelled like cut grass and your mom’s lemon trees. 

Steve walked you to where his lawn met yours, the streets tired and empty ‘cause the summer heat was still lingering, making the air heavy and sweet. You watched as the boy chewed his lip, uncharacteristically nervous, backs of hands brushing as you walked across the grass, damp blades brushing your bare ankles and you wondered why your best friend's cheeks were so pink. 

“Paul Matthews kissed Gemma Kennedy under the bleachers,” he suddenly blurted out, and you frowned, lips twisting. 

“He did?” You asked, unsure of why this news was being shared. You didn’t like Paul Matthews, he was annoying and never gave anyone else a shot of the swings at recess. “What’d he say?”

Steve shrugged, all boyish and innocent. “He said it was kinda gross.”

“Gross,” you repeated, features scrunched. “Why’d Gemma wanna kiss him anyways? Paul smells like gym socks.”

Steve snorted, a shoulder bumping into yours. You could smell your dad’s pasta from the open kitchen window, the pop of a bottle being opened, soft music from one of your mom’s favourite bands. 

“Do I smell like gym socks?” The boy asked, suddenly self conscious and you poked at his ribs, head shaking. 

“No,” you told him earnestly, voice all quiet and sweet ‘cause it was like you were both the only two in Hawkins at that moment. “You smell nice. Like cookies and bubblegum.”

He grinned, too pleased with your assessment and before you hopped over the flowerbed that split your home with Steve’s, he caught your hand, palm a little clammy. 

He murmured your name, voice shy and it made your tummy tumble in a way that you still didn’t understand, not properly, not yet. 

You turned, eyes wide ‘cause you were both reaching an age where boys and girls didn’t really hold hands playing in the street anymore, and if they did, it meant something else. It made kids whisper in the playground, pass notes in the classroom and suddenly watching the older students kiss each other at their lockers didn’t seem as icky. 

“Have you kissed anyone?” Steve asked you, voice laced with curiosity. 

You flushed, heart raging, pulse picking up ‘cause you hadn’t and suddenly it felt like the most embarrassing thing in the world. But Steve still had his hand over yours and he squeezed your fingers a little tighter, and something about it felt so reassuring, like he’d keep every secret you gifted him. 

“No.” A pause, a worry, a flutter of nerves. “Have you?”

Were you supposed to? Was a boy meant to like you now? Has Steve kissed a girl? Have you missed something monumental? 

“No.”

Oh. A beat of silence that seemed to stretch an age. 

“Can I kiss you?”

Oh. 

“You wanna kiss me?” You asked, lashes blinking slow, mouth parted. You could taste the sugar cookies you’d shared with Steve still melting on your tongue. “Me?”

Steve stumbled over his words, cheeks flushed rose and he licked at his lips, unsure of what to say ‘cause Jesus Christ he was thirteen years old and had no idea what he was doing. But he remembered something that Paul had said to him, legs kicking as they sat on the swings together, sun beating down on their backs.

“Wish I had kissed Kimmy Cheng instead,” the boy had said, somewhat thoughtful, brows scrunched. “I really like Kimmy, maybe that would’ve made it better.”

It had made Steve think then, chewing at his cheek ‘cause the only girl he really liked was you, his best friend. You didn’t make him nervous, and when the movies you watched with him got too scary, you held his hand, face behind a pillow and he didn’t hate that. Not at all. 

“I mean, I guess?” Steve mumbled and god, he didn’t understand why his stomach was flipping over, that same feeling he got when he decided he was gonna climb that old oak tree over by Fifth, the one that was too high, that had thick branches that swallowed the world below your feet. “Would be easier if our first kiss was with each other. Might be less embarrassin’, y’know?”

That made sense, you thought, ‘cause you really didn’t want another boy telling everyone your kisses were gross and Steve wouldn’t make fun of you if you were bad at it, would he?

“Okay.” You said decisively, and you took a deep breath, wondering why your heart was beating so fast, the same way it did when Steve went too fast on his bike, your fingers digging crescent moons into his shoulders, eyes tearing up at the whipping find, hair covering your face and his. “Now?”

“Now?” He repeated eyes wide and then he swore, quiet, ‘cause he wasn’t supposed to and his hand readjusted his grip on yours, palms clammy and fingers linking. 

You hadn’t held hands like that before. It felt different, a little funny, closer.

But before you could comment on it, the boy was leading you between the two houses, the air warm and trapped between bricks and he opened his garden gate, feet clumsy as you both half ran down the skinny strip of yard at the side of his home. 

It was overgrown there, the little hidden patch of long grass and wildflowers that grew underneath Steve’s bedroom window and it smelled like honeysuckle and lavender. You could hear the trickle of the pool, your mom’s music and the setting sun cut through the slats in the fences in stripes, lighting you both up with gold and bronze. 

It smelled like summer, you decided, the perfect July day and when Steve spun to face you, you let out a noise of surprise. You were happy to notice that he seemed nervous too, teeth pulling at his bottom lip, hand tugging through his already wild hair.

But you were both hidden there, in the edges of the garden, stolen away from the rest of the town and out of sight of your parents. It felt like the biggest secret of all, one to lock away in the depths of your journal and this felt so much more than giving away the last cookie, more than backseat bike rides and a handmade friendship bracelet, more than sleepovers on Steve’s living room floor, heads touching when you fell asleep.

“What do we do?” you asked, nothing more than a soft whisper. 

Steve shrugged, heart rattling against his ribcage and he licked his bottom lip and stumbled a little closer. The toes of his trainers touched your sandals and he was already a little taller than you but he blinked, gaze settling on you from underneath thick, dark lashes and you gulped.

“I don’t really know,” Steve murmured, hands flexing by his sides ‘cause he wasn’t sure if he was supposed to hold yours, or place them on your sides, your shoulders. 

He shoved them in his pockets instead, hiding the way they shook a little with nerves and he gasped when you moved closer still, knees bumping clumsy against his own and he could count the freckles on your nose, and he wondered if they matched the ones on his skin, a present from long summer days outside.

“Will I just-?” Steve’s voice cracked and he flushed but you didn’t mention it, you didn’t laugh, you never did. “Should I?”

You weren’t sure what possessed you, maybe all the sugar you’d consumed, maybe it was the heat of sun on your shoulders, maybe it was the way your tummy was rolling with nerves and worry but you grasped at Steve’s shoulders, pushing yourself up onto your toes and pressed your lips to the boy’s without any sort of announcement. 

Another gasp, warm skin, nails digging into arms, two pairs of eyes wide, noses bumping. 

It lasted a few seconds, maybe less. But your lips were tingling when you pulled away, cheeks a new kind of hot and Steve looked a little shellshocked. You both rocked on your heels into the grass, too tall lavender brushing against your shins and then the boy smiled, a burst of sunshine in the shadows, and he looked delighted.

You were sure your ears were burning, the tips feeling hot and when you looked at Steves, you found his were pink too. You beamed, a nervous giggle, a laugh that got caught in your chest and when you heard your mom’s voice call from the back door - so close to where you were both still standing - you jumped, two kids trying not to be caught doing something they shouldn't.

The garden gate squeaked when you ran back through it, the hinges calling after you and you smelled like a bouquet of flowers as you ran across both lawns, feet tripping over your front porch as you ran inside. 

Something pretty bloomed in between the spaces of your bones that day, when Steve Harrington decided that you were both going to be each other's first kiss. It stayed there, for so much longer than you thought it would. You’d always remember it as brown sugar and vanilla, lavender and honeysuckle, feeling brave, honey coloured eyes and complete and utter innocence. 

1981. Devils roll their dice, angels roll their eyes, what doesn’t kill me makes me want you more.

You didn’t even want to go to the party, you didn’t even like Karen Vincent and you were damn sure she didn’t like you. You knew you were only invited because of Steve, a slip of pink paper passed to you after Karen and her friend Shauna slid between you and the boy at his locker, hands on his chest, on his arm.

You’d wrinkled your nose at it all, fingertips gripping the invite like a ticking time bomb but the girls had learnt the hard way that Steve wouldn’t show if you weren’t welcomed too. 

It’s how you found yourself crammed into the Vincent’s basement with too many other fifteen year olds, the music making the walls vibrate, the punch bowl spiked with something that shouldn’t have been mixed with fruit juice and god, it was too warm. 

It was just past ten o’clock and your parents wanted you home for eleven, which meant that, by default, that was Steve’s curfew too. You’d both been allowed to walk home on the condition that you stuck together and kept to the main roads, the summer months making the nights light enough that you could see both the sun and the moon in the sky, the clouds a hazy orange as they sunk into the horizon. 

You’d spoke to a few kids you shared some classes with, avoided the snack table and its fizzing punch bowl, the concoction no longer the same colour it was when Karen’s mom poured it. And then there was a pop of a bottle cork, splashes of spilled liquid on the already sticky floors, some cheers and a circle was made. 

Fuck. 

“Seven minutes in heaven!” Yelled a boy you didn’t really know, some kid from the same basketball team as Steve, “let’s go losers!”

There was a symphony of wolf whistles and giggles as kids piled into the middle of the room, coffee tables and armchairs pushed out of the way in favour of a seat on the floor, knee to knee and shoulder to shoulder with their classmates, eyes wide and searching for their next possible date to the arcade. 

“Harrington!” the same boy called out, “get in here!” 

Steve appeared beside you, hand brushing gently on your elbow and you frowned without meaning to, wondering why it’d taken him so long to return from the bathroom. But then you saw Karen by his other side, lips glossy and smacking blue bubblegum, eyes sharp on you as she grinned.

“Are you playing Steve?” she asked, lashes blinking, voice coy. 

You grimaced, already taking a step back from the ever growing circle. Someone was placing the now empty bottle in the middle and you eyed the closet door across the room like an old nemesis. Your stomach was twirling, and it wasn’t from all the pizza rolls but the smell of chocolate pretzels and red vines wasn’t helping. 

But Steve’s hand curled around your arm, still gentle, but he could read you like a book. He tsked, his smile playful but eyes gentle, as if he could feel the nerves radiate off of you. Maybe he could, maybe he could hear the way your heart rattled inside your chest, louder than the music, deeper than the bass.

“Ah, ah, ah,” he admonished, crowding into you a little so he could find your ear with his mouth. He was so much taller than you now, the top of your head barely reaching his chin and you scowled, knowing what was coming. “Where you goin’ princess?”

“Home,” you told him stubbornly and you suddenly hated the way your denim skirt was sticking to your thighs, too constricting, too warm. 

You heard him sigh, making a noise that only a best friend could, the sound of someone being done with your shit but loving you nonetheless. You moved backwards, hips bumping into the table that was piled high with empty red cups and the boy followed, a puppy at your feet, the same way it had been for three years now. 

“Aw c’mon,” Steve groaned, “if you go home, I gotta leave too and you promised me you’d stay until curfew.”

You huffed, arms crossed protectively over your chest, ‘cause you hated the way people were starting to stare. They always did with you and Steve, especially when he touched you like, so casually, so gently. 

“I can leave on my own, Steve, I’m a big girl.”

No you weren’t. You were fifteen and still scared of the dark after Steve made you watch Day Of The Dead when both of your parents were out late at the new Italian restaurant just outside of town. 

But then, a poke to your arm, your cheek, the end of your nose. You swatted at him, hiding your smile between a press of your lips.

“You know my mom would kill me if I let you walk home alone,” he grumbled but it was soft, still gentle. “Fuck, your mom would kill me after.”

“You can’t be killed twice, stupid,” you said but it lacked heat, an excuse to say something other than agreeing to a game you didn’t wanna play. 

He still knew you too well, scoffing at your evasion, hand curling warm around your wrist and pulling you back to the party, back to him, bodies bumping in a too close proximity that became more tense with every year that you got older. 

It was becoming harder to ignore that your best friend was pretty. You were sure he’d wrinkle his nose at your choice of adjective but Steve grew up and missed the awkward stage, shoulders broad at the same time he grew a foot, wild hair becoming only a little tamer, more product in it and eyes still warm and brown, a new dimple in his cheek you loved to press your finger into. 

You’d heard the other girls in your year call him hot, a total babe, whispered through giggles in the locker room. But your best friend still looked at you all soft, the same way he did before he gave you his first kiss and he took yours, pressed against the honeysuckle in his backyard. He teased gently, took your hand when the streets got too dark and you were both late for curfew, pressed a foot over yours under the dinner table when your mom started talking about test results and extra curriculars. 

Steve was still your best friend. But he was really, really pretty. 

“There he is! Harrington!” Another boy -  Jake someone, from your English class - had forced his way through the crowd to clap a hand on each of your shoulders, pushing you both into the circle. “And you brought your princess, how ‘bout that, huh?”

You flushed, with both annoyance and embarrassment, ‘cause one day when you were all still twelve, Steve spotted you across the park, hands twisting around a basketball as he took in another new dress you wore and called you a princess again. It just so happened that his friends had heard it too. 

His nickname for you never left, but neither did your classmate's memory of the incident. 

And then Steve’s hand was ripped from your arm, bodies separating you both and he was manhandled to the one side of the circle, you to the other, shoulders squished between a boy and a girl you vaguely recognised from gym class, maybe biology too. It was warmer on the floor, heat and teenage hormones gathering sticky between too close bodies, the smell of cheap aftershave and someone’s mom’s perfume mixing with Kool-Aid and sprite. 

“Okay so! You guys know the rules!” Karen was standing from her spot in the circle, suspiciously opposite to Steve, eyes wide and hands animated as she gestured to the closet door on the other side of the room. “Spin the bottle and whoever it lands on is all yours for a whole seven minutes.”

The group giggled, excitement rippling through the circle, bodies shuffling, overflowing cups spilling. 

You panicked, scanning the line of faces until you found Steve’s, his eyes already on yours, knowing and soft. He was mouthing something to you, silent underneath the music and chatter. 

“It’s okay.”

But then Jake was shoving a hand to Steve’s shoulder, urging him into the middle of the circle with a raucous cheer that only teenage boys could make, the rest of the basketball team joining in and Steve bowed his head, lips twisting into an almost smile that he couldn’t really hide. 

You watched as every girl perked up like a meerkat, backs straight, hair twisted around fingers, elbows digging into competitors that tried to make their space in the circle more known. 

Your stomach rolled again and it only got worse when Steve spun the bottle and the glass flashed green in the centre, bodies bowing forward to see where it would land. 

It sounded like you were underwater, excited voices and yells sounding far away, dulled with the thump of the music. The bottle had spun and  spun and spun, landing on you with such precise finality that Karen audibly groaned. 

You looked up, Steve’s eyes wide on yours, lips parted and cheeks pink. Before either of you could speak, before you could shake your head or grab your jacket from the sofa and run up the basement stairs, your hand was grabbed by Jake, lips stretched wide and voice booming. 

“King Steve and the princess!” He cheered and his excitement was echoed by your classmates, hollers and whoops following you as the boy grabbed Steve with his other hand and the three of you were tripping over stretched legs and forgotten bottles, heading for that fucking closet door. 

“Wait!” You said, voice sharp and god, you could hear the panic there. 

You couldn’t kiss Steve. You didn’t want to kiss Steve. You shouldn’t kiss Steve. 

But Jake ignored you and the music was turned up a little louder again as the rest of the party lounged on their spaces on the floor, heads turned and tilted to watch you both with interest, and your arms only found Steve’s chest when the door was yanked open and a few sets of strange hands shoved you both in. 

The door closed, a gust of air, a click, the muffled sounds of the party locked away behind wood. It was dark, musty and your foot hit a shoe rack, your back against a bundle of winter coats that had been retired for the summer. 

“M’sorry,” Steve whispered and you knew he was referring to making you stay. You could’ve been half way home by now, trainers scuffing the edges of the sidewalk, fresh air kissing your cheeks. “Didn’t think it would land on you.”

You grunted an unladylike response as your eyes adjusted to the low light, a sliver of warm white coming in from the cracks on the door hinges, letting you see the way the boy was looking at you guiltily. 

“Whatever,” you grumbled ‘cause you really didn’t want to kiss your best friend but you hated the way Steve sounded disappointed at the idea. 

You weren’t sure how long you could keep lying to yourself, but you were certain you had another few years in you. 

“We don’t have to do anything,” he said, voice still soft, as if anyone outside of the closet could possibly hear the music and yelling. “S’not like we have to kiss.”

You snorted, chest sore in a way that felt like rejection and you hated how it stung. You looked at Steve, his eyes still on you as he shoved a hand into his jeans pocket, another raking through his hair in a way you knew all too well. He was nervous, agitated. 

“Sorry I’m not Karen Vincent,” you snarked and god, you hated the way you sounded jealous, you hated the way the words burned your tongue but Steve didn’t pick up on it. There was nothing to pick up. “Promise this wasn’t some sort of elaborate cockblocking plan.”

It was Steve’s turn to laugh, a huff of air that hit your cheek ‘cause he was so close and he was all cheap beer, gummy worms and hair gel. 

“Wouldn’t be the first time,” the boy mumbled but there was a teasing to his voice, a not so serious lilt. 

You pressed your fist into his arm anyway, a hardly there punch that packed no heat and he poked his finger into your side in retaliation. You swatted at him, glaring ‘cause he knew you were ticklish and all the movement sent an empty shoe box hurtling down from a shelf above you both. 

“I do not cockblock you,” you pouted, almost offended. 

“Not on purpose.” Steve snorted, “Took me all of freshman year to get everyone to believe you weren’t my girlfriend.”

You scrunched your nose at the memory of it, boy’s catcalling you from afar, whispers when you and Steve walked to school together every morning, the unappreciative glares from the girls who wanted him instead. 

“Whatever,” you mumbled again. “How long left?”

“It’s only been like, a minute, jeez, that bad being stuck with me princess?” Steve’s voice was teasing and his hand snuck out to grab at your waist again, touch familiar, but his fingers were tickling, poking gently at the spaces between your ribs and you wriggled against him, knees bumping off of skis and old bikes. 

“Yes,” you lied and the boy knew, ‘cause you could see the way the light through the crack lit up the curve of his grin. 

“Besides, we’ve kissed before,” Steve suddenly said, cautious and soft. His hand was still on you, cupping your elbow to hold you near and it slid down to grasp your wrist. He shrugged, eyes on the floor. “Remember?”

You warmed at the memory, wondering why on earth Steve had to bring it up now when you had both never mentioned it since.

“Of course I do,” you huffed, hating the way you sounded bothered. “It wasn’t that long ago. And it hardly even counted.”

Steve scowled, his hurt puppy expression painted across his features. Big, brown eyes set you in place with a stare. “It did so count,” he grumbled, “you were my first kiss.”

“And you were mine,” you fired back, as if this was suddenly an argument that you had to win. Steve always let you win.

“Have you kissed anyone else?” His voice was full of curiosity, void of any embarrassment, not like the way you felt when he asked you such questions. 

It made you flush, eyes wide and lips parting, as if you weren’t supposed to say, as if you weren’t supposed to let him know. Steve had told you about his kiss with Lucy Greeves, behind the bike shed, a few months back. 

He’d told you it was wet and she tasted like the chocolate milk she’d had at lunch. You remembered how he’d thrown himself into your pile of teddies and pillows at the foot of your bed, expression thoughtful as he told you he didn’t really like chocolate milk all that much. 

Then there was Samantha Duncan the year before, a game of truth or dare at the skatepark when the sun started to set and your curfews got a little later. You didn’t watch when Steve leaned into the middle of the circle, friends giggling as he pressed his lips quick to the other girls. 

“Just Miles Campbell,” you muttered, gaze lowered and set on the floor because you could feel the mischief bristle off of the boy as you spoke.

“Miles Campbell?!” He crowed, voice boisterous and no longer quiet. “He’s a giant, what did you do, climb a step ladder- ow!”

You pushed at Steve’s shoulder, face aflame. “Shut up! If you have to know, Harrington, we were sitting down.” You sounded haughty, but you didn’t care, ‘cause the boy was still laughing. 

Steve settled down, a dopey smile just on his lips and despite his teasing, his eyes were fond. Your sides bumped as he shifted, too close and not enough space in the small closet and you were so, so aware that your gaze was level with the bottom half of his face. 

His lips looked really soft. 

“Was he a good kisser?”

“Why d’you wanna know?”

He shrugged. 

“Thinking about asking him out?” You smirked. “Don’t think you're his type, Stevie.”

“Shut up.” 

There was a knock on the door, a sudden sharp sound that had you both jumping apart and you weren’t even sure when you had wandered that close. 

“Five minutes left, lovebirds!” Jake, voice muffled by the door and the music, called out, sounding way too pleased. 

Steve stared at the door, bottom lip tucked between his teeth and you knew he was thinking about something. He only hesitated a little before he knocked a foot into yours, catching your gaze and he spoke as if he wanted to get the words out fast, before he could stop himself. 

“Was he, though?” Steve asked again, voice quieter this time, almost unsure. He looked nervous, “Miles?”

You stared at him, maybe for a beat too long ‘cause the tips of his ears were turning red and he coughed, a little awkward. You made the same strangled noise, shoulders shrugging.

“I mean, sure,” you whispered, “I guess? He was… it was fine.”

You weren’t overly sure if the darkness was playing tricks on you or not, but you could’ve sworn you saw the boy smile.

“He tried to stick his tongue in my mouth,” you continued, face warm from embarrassment, ‘cause you suddenly felt like you were sharing too much, even with Steve. “It felt weird, like a dead fish. I didn’t really know what to do.”

“You’ve never made out with someone?” Steve asked and god, you were almost positive he was the only person who could’ve asked you that question without sounding like he was making fun of you. His voice was soft, all fond affection for you that he’d collected over the years and he moved closer, toes touching yours like he knew exactly how to handle you. “Kissed someone like that before?”

“That was the first time,” you squirmed under his gaze, feeling much younger than you were. Were you supposed to have that much experience in making out with someone at fifteen? Did Steve? “I don’t really know if I did it right.”

“Oh,” he breathed and he didn’t sound like he was judging you at all. There was another slow silence, warm and not at all uncomfortable because it was still Steve, and it wrapped around you both like a question. “I could show you. If you wanted.”

The music bled underneath the gap in the door, vibrated against your skin and the drums made your heart drop and stop, thundering to the beat quickly after. You were sure it was the music. You were positive it was the music.

But then Steve mistook your silence for hesitation, a silent ‘no’ and he was already opening his mouth to cover his tracks, to take back the statement, to tell you he was stupid, that he was only kidding.

“I didn’t mean-, we don’t have to… shit, I-”

Four minutes left. 

“Okay.”

You could hear the rush of your blood in your ears, skin warm, cheeks hot, tongue sneaking out to peek between your lips and you wondered if he’d still be able to taste the lipgloss you put on before you left the house. 

“What?”

“Show me.”

He took a step towards you and you watched as the boy tried to keep cool but his ever expressive face gave him away, brown eyes all wide, jaw a little slack and his hand found your waist, a sliver of skin between your shirt and skirt, a place he’d not really touched before.

“Is this alright?” His voice cracked, and he blushed but you didn’t laugh. You never laughed, but you did nod. “Just do what I do, ‘kay? Can I kiss you?”

Was it really that simple, you wondered? But you didn’t get a lot of time to think it over, because as soon as you nodded, Steve was crowding into you more, pressing you into the coats and you still had to press up on your toes to let his mouth meet yours.

It was so different from last time and it was almost the same.

Steve Harrington still tasted like sugar and vanilla, hidden under cheap beer and you gasped when his lips touched yours, the same way you did when you were thirteen. But your hands grasped at his neck, steadying yourself, and he clutched at your waist to help, as if you had both gotten a little older and suddenly knew where to touch.

His mouth was soft over yours, a little hesitant at first, but then coaxing. Your lips slid over his once, twice, three times and then you felt the soft lick of his tongue at the seam of your lips and you remembered the way he’d told you to copy him.

So you did.

Your tongue touched his and your breath hitched with how nice it felt and the kiss moved soft and slow. You grabbed Steve a little harder, body swaying into his in the dark ‘cause your stomach was swooping and your heart was hammering and it felt like you were on the front seat of a rollercoaster, hanging off the edge. 

Maybe Steve felt the same way, despite having more experience, because he gripped you the same way, fingernails leaving little half moon marks on your hips. 

It felt strange, it felt good, it felt warm and it made everything tingle, breath stuck in your throat and a sigh leaving your chest and you felt like you should’ve been embarrassed. But you weren’t, because it was Steve. 

But then voices outside were counting down from ten and they got louder and louder, hands hammering on the door and you both ripped apart before the door swung open, harsh strip lights and the smell of artificial strawberry and natty light swimming back into the closet with you. 

The walk home wasn’t as awkward as it should’ve been considering you and your best friend had had your tongues in each other's mouths. Maybe it’s ‘cause you were still too young, maybe it was because you didn’t realise it yet, but there wasn’t much about yours and Steve’s friendship that would ever be awkward. 

So you followed the yellow lines on the edge of the road home, footsteps a little behind Steve’s and every now and then, the boy would look back over his shoulder to make sure you were still there. It smelled like nighttime and summer and everything you associated with the boy, damp grass and leftover smoke from someone's barbecue, chlorine from the pools and you could hear sprinklers in backyards, hissing in the still warm air. 

You were a little late, just over curfew and the television was making your living room glow, the flicker of light coming out from the window. So Steve took your hand and led you through the back garden gate, pool lights leading you both to your patio doors, the rest of the house dark and you could smell lavender and honeysuckle from Steve’s yard.

He helped you find the key to the door, the spare hidden in a plant pot filled with pebbles and moss, one lone rose sprouting from the dirt. Both of your hands fumbled together as your fingers touched, all sudden pink cheeks and lowered gazes and Steve whispered a ‘good night, princess,’ before sneaking back down the lane, hopping over the lower part of the fence and into his own yard.

By the time you had tiptoed upstairs, past your dad who was dozing in the living room arm chair, Steve was in his room, bedroom window across from yours and the lights were still on as he lounged on his bed, shirt off and a baseball clutched in his fist. 

He was throwing it from his hand, watching it fall up and down in the air before catching it again, one arm thrown underneath his head and you couldn’t help but gaze at the muscles there, all new and never really seen before. 

You swallowed, suddenly too warm, the heat from the day trapped in your bedroom and sticking to your skin but you didn’t want to open the window, you didn’t want to alert the boy to your staring. You and Steve had spent nights, weeks, months and years hanging out from the sills, talking over the trailing ivy and flowers and growing below. 

But this felt like something you shouldn't have been doing, especially since you could still taste him on your lips, feel where his hands had burned against your sides, so you pulled your curtains and trapped all these brand new thoughts inside your room with you.

You took them to bed, slipped between the sheets with them and everything smelled like brown sugar and honey, gummy bears and Steve Harrington. 

1984. Killing me slow, out the window, I’ll always be waiting for you to be waiting below.

“Princess, c’mon, every time.”

Steve’s voice was exasperated, laced with something softer and it made swinging your leg over your bedroom window sill a little easier.

You peered down at him, long grass brushing his shins ‘cause no one but you two used that little path that took you out of the back garden gate. He was gazing back up, setting sun brushing his face with gold and caramel, peachy pink clouds in the sky and Steve held his arms out, beckoning.

“You’ll catch me?” You murmured, still unsure, despite this being a well practised escape. 

“Don’t I always?” the boy scoffed, almost offended, but the small edge below your window didn’t offer a lot of footing and you swore the drainpipe was becoming more loose than it used to be. 

“Harrington, I swear,” the threat was empty and it fell idle on your lips when you pushed yourself over the edge, hands gripping at the window frame and feet finding their footing. 

“Don’t second name me,” Steve grumbled and you sensed him moving closer, buttercups and daisy crushed under his sneakers as he kept his arms outstretched towards you. “You good?”

You mumbled some noise of confirmation, knees bent and ready to drop. You hated this part, and weirdly, it got harder as you got older, limbs stretched, body heavier, no longer small and quick to scramble up tree branches and out of windows.

“Steve?” You couldn’t really see behind you, the soft summer breeze picking at your hair and blocking your view of the ground below but you lowered yourself as much as you could, fingers too warm and slipping against the window frame.

“Yeah, I’ve got you.”

So you let go, the short drop softened by the boy’s hand catching at your waist and pulling you against him, your back to his front and he held you there, ankles swishing in the damp grass. 

Steve was all hard muscle and cologne, arms stronger than they had ever been, tanned from the summer and wrapped tight around you, hands pressed into the skin underneath your breasts. He let you go when you found your feet, white chucks soaked by the evening dew and you blew out a breath and set the boy with a stare. 

“We have front doors, you know,” you watched him grin at you, wide and bright and so familiar. “Why do we have to do this?”

“S’more fun,” the boy answered and he landed a firm smack to your ass when you bent over, fingers tugging at your laces. “Nice shorts princess.”

“Fuck you,” you squeaked, cheeks warm and you reached out to do the same, plan connecting with the denim of his jeans and Steve laughed before groaning a little dirty and exaggerated. “You’re such a dick.”

He spun you both, feet leading you backwards towards the garden gate, clumsy between the flowers and he grinned, wolfishly. 

“You know I love it when you talk dirty.”

“Steve,” you tried to sound huffy, as if you weren’t impressed by his jokes but you sounded flustered instead and you hated how the boy knew it.

But he never said anything, never commented on the flush across your chest or the way your tongue snuck out to wet at your lips, he never poked fun. He just always watched with knowing eyes and a soft smile you could never discern, and kept on teasing you. 

“Y’know it’s better if my dad doesn’t see me leave,” he finally answered, fingers bullying the lock, almost rusted shut from years of only being used by both of you. “I get asked too many questions and I give answers he doesn’t like and suddenly I’m back in my room filling out fuckin’ college applications for the eighteenth day in a row.“

A pang of sympathy hit your chest and before you could tell your friend that you understood, you sympathised, he was placing a warm hand on the space between your shorts and your shirt, guiding you out the gate. 

“Doesn’t mean I have to do the same,” you grumbled good naturedly, “I could meet you out front like a normal person.”

“Fuck off, we both know you love jumping into my arms as much as I love catching you.”

You couldn’t remember when you started flirting with your best friend, or when he started flirting with you. You couldn’t pick a place or time when it began, or who did it first. But you were both eighteen and more appreciative of all the strong lines and muscles, the soft curves and different ways you looked at each other. 

It would be a comment, a sly remark, a hand touching too close to areas yet to be discovered, a wink, a hug that went on for a beat too long. 

Nothing had happened, not really, not since the closet at Karen Vincent’s party, but everyone at school called you Steve Harrington’s girl and the boys you hooked up with in the backs of cars always pulled away mid kiss to ask if you were definitely single. 

It was all fun and teasing, familiar touches with a familiar boy, sprawled together in the same bed you’d shared with him since you were twelve years old. Except now there wasn’t as much space between you both, limbs longer, bodies taller, leftover alcohol soaking into your heads in the mornings that you woke up wrapped around each other. 

You would pretend you didn’t feel how hard he was, morning wood pressed into the small of your back, the curve of your ass and Steve wouldn’t comment when your shirt had rucked itself up your ribs in the middle of the night, too much showing to be decent. 

It was enough to keep you both on your toes, the close friendship teetering over the question of what if? Could we? Should we? Will we?

Steve didn’t hide the way he looked at you, affection always strong in his brown eyes, hands soft and face fond when he picked a wildflower off the garden wall, tucking it behind your ear but there was always a linger over your bare legs, the way the hem of your shorts cut high on your thighs, the way they pinched in at your waist and made your shirt ride up your ribs. 

The roller rink was busy as expected, ten o’clock on a Saturday night and filled with teenagers looking for something and someone to do. The kids of the day had long left and the lights were dimmer, the whole hall darker with flashes of red and aquamarine, bubble gum pink and candied lilac that flashed across the floor and faces. 

The disco ball twisted in the middle and it sent rainbows and reflections across the walls, painted Steve’s face in technicolour and you gave his cheek a little pat as you took off, wheels spinning you backwards, music thumping in your chest. 

He smiled at you, knowing, brows raised as he took a seat on the tables that lined the roller rink, crowded by the friends you’d found from school, flasks pulled from pockets, clear liquid dumped into red and blue slurpees.  

“Where you goin’ princess?”

You did a little spin, already warm from the sticky air, summer leaking in and slipping between the people skating and dancing, bodies too close. Your foot found the rink, hands leaning on the barrier wall as you sent Steve a wink, your cherry glossed lips widening in a smile that was borderline salacious. 

“To find someone to play with.”

The boys surrounding Steve whooped and hollered, cat calls ringing out underneath the music and you could hear the comments directed to Steve, playful intones about how his girl was nothin’ but trouble, and wasn’t he gonna get a pretty thing like you locked down?

But Steve just shook his head at you, playful and exasperated, while he leant back on the bench, waving away his friends remarks with quiet whatever’s and it’s not like that. 

He had nothing to say when you dropped yourself into his lap half an hour later, body warm from skating, face flushed and eyes a little too wide and bright. 

He ignored the whistles from his friends, the knowing glances, the nudges to ribs. ‘Cause you were wrapping your hands around his neck, fingers playing with his hair and your lips were at his ear. 

“There’s some creep followin’ me around,” you whispered, body tense and Steve’s hands, where they’d dropped to on instinct when you sat on him, tightened on the space above your knee. 

“Who?” Steve asked immediately, voice low and it rumbled through you, you could feel it in his chest and his eyes were scanning the crowds, brows pinched together. 

You didn’t look, didn’t turn away from where you’d pressed your nose to his temple, breathing in his cologne, his shampoo, something minty and like the forest. You caught Candance Peterson’s eye from over Steve’s head and you ignored the way she smirked at you. 

“By the lockers,” you murmured and your breath hitched just a little when Steve wrapped one arm around you, holding you closer to the other hand sliding it’s way between your bare legs, fingers curled around your thigh possessively. “Red shirt, bad hair.”

Steve snickered ‘cause he found him, a guy with an overgrown mullet and beady eyes, hanging by the lockers and benches. He was staring at you, watching the way you draped yourself over your best friend and Steve raised a hand, wiggling his fingers to show that he’d seen him. 

“He didn’t try anythin’, did he?”

You shook your head, tip of your nose brushing against Steve’s cheek ‘cause you refused to move any further away and you knew the boy didn’t mind. His hand was back on your leg, thumb stoking circles on the inside of your thigh and it took everything you had not to squirm in his lap. 

“Nah, just asked too many questions, told me he was wondering why a ‘pretty little girl’ like me wasn’t with her boyfriend,” you scrunched your face as you spoke, lips twisted. “Told him that my boyfriend was right over here.”

It wasn’t the first time you or Steve had used each other to slip away from some unwanted attention. Steve was just tall enough, just broad enough to warrant a second glance, too drunk boys weighing up their options when you snuck under your best friend's arm, wondering if they could take him. 

They usually gave up, watching with a sneer as your pressed your body into Steve’s, his hands taking advantage of your little role play game and he’d let his palm take a slow wander over the curve of your ass, a tight squeeze, a light tap and you’d dig your fingers into the spaces between his ribs for it, his laugh huffing guilty onto your neck. 

You found that you could be just as intimidating, Steve seeking you out at parties when girls from out of town got a little too much, a little too eager and kept trying to touch the hair that he spent too much fucking time styling. The boy would sneak up behind you, arms around your waist as he pulled you back against him and used you as the cutest human shield he’d ever seen. 

The sight of you in Steve’s arms usually stopped his admirers in their tracks, his lips pressed to the top of your head, smile hidden in your hair as you set them with a look that Steve said could make grown men cry. . 

“Oh you did, did you?” Steve drawled, “did you tell him I was the prettiest one out of the bunch?”

You snorted, a sound that always made Steve grin and you loved the way his arms tightened around you. Your position on his knees gave you an inch or two of height on him, a little taller, just for a change. You pulled back enough so you could gaze down at him, lashes lowered and face overly thoughtful. 

“I don’t know, Stevie,” you pondered, all faux heavy sighs, teasing and fluttering lashes. “Danny’s starting to look real cute since joining the team-”

“You shut your damn mouth,” Steve interrupted, voice huffy but he was still smiling despite himself. He took a second to watch the way a refraction of light from the disco ball travelled over your cheek, lighting up the new summer freckles there before it dipped into your Cupid’s bow. He cleared his throat, suddenly shy. “We both know you think I’m the hottest guy he- oh, shit. Your friend is coming over.”

“What?” You barked out and your voice sounded strangled. You turned to see that Steve was right, the guy in the red shirt was making his way through the gathering crowds, weaving through the busy tables towards you both, his gaze set on you and another question posed on his lips. “Oh, Jesus Christ.”

Steve was already shifting underneath you, arms hooking under the backs of your knees and you knew he was ready to deposit you on the chair next to him, eyes searching for a fight. 

“Can I kiss you?” You asked instead. 

“Shit, what?” The boy’s response was garbled, words tumbling over each other as he stopped his movements and looked at you wide eyed. “Princess-”

You sighed, impatient, a hand clutching at Steve’s chin, tilting his face up to you so you could catch his gaze, the question asked again with just your eyes. A silent exchange, a secret language only you two knew. You watched his tongue swipe over his bottom lip, eyes heavy, dropping to your mouth and you waited, a second, maybe two and then fuck, he nodded, barely perceptible. 

You crushed your lips to his, swallowed the moan that Steve immediately gifted you, fingers pushing into his jaw and sighing at the way his  hand on your back dropped to the waistband of your shorts, fingertips desperately seeking the warmth of your bare skin. 

It was different to the kisses you had shared before, ‘cause fuck, now you both knew what you were doing and you had almost as much experience under your belt as Steve had. You knew boys liked it when you got a little bossy, hands on their jaw and thumb on their bottom lip, telling them to part their lips for you. You knew they liked it when you sighed all sweet and pretty, hips squirming in their hands, fingers pulling at their hair. They told you that you tasted like cherries, something sweet and tart and like dirty secrets. 

Steve seemed to like it too, ‘cause his tongue was sweeping past your lips, kissing you dirtier than he should’ve for such a public setting and you could hear your friends rippling in excitement around you. 

You pushed your thumb to the corner of Steve’s mouth and he obeyed like you thought he would, parting his lips between yours and groaning into you. It was all teeth and tongue, hot hands on bare skin, hair between fingers, threading and pulling and you wondered how you could still taste vanilla, hidden in his lips underneath blue raspberry slush. 

You liked the way he held you to him, a little too tight, a little more possessive than he’d ever been with you before. Because growing up with Steve Harrington was all protective hands, glares sent to boys who deemed not good enough, rides home from work and gentle hands taking that one drink too many from you at parties that went on too late. 

This was different, this was personal, this was a touch that screamed mine mine mine and it kinda hated the way you knew you’d think about it later, back flat in your bed, sheets kicked to your ankles and your hand pushed down the front of your shorts. 

Maybe Steve would do the same you thought, maybe he already had, you wondered. And images of Steve with his hand flat to the shower tiles flashed through your head, body wet, hair soaked, lips parted and his other palm fisting himself to the thought of you. 

It was suddenly too much and you needed air more than you needed Steve. Your lips left his and the sounds of the rink came rushing back, like you’d pushed your head out from underwater. There was suddenly music, the score of wheels on wood, the siren of a pinball machine, ice clattering into cups from behind the bar. 

Someone amongst the group let out one, long whistle and people tittered and god, it should’ve made you blush. 

It should’ve. 

It didn’t. 

You simply stood from Steve’s lap, his hands still on your waist and guiding you to your feet until you could push your hair back from your warm cheeks, feeling only slightly scandalised when your friends all started but you kept your eyes on the boy. 

You licked the taste of him from your lips, raspberry and sugar and something that you were now beginning to learn was just Steve. His cheeks were tinted pink, lips glossy from yours and his brown eyes were considerably darker, his finger trailing away from yours in a way that made you think he didn’t wanna let go. 

But you cleared your throat the same time he did, only a little wobbly on the eight wheels that held you up and he grinned when you coughed out a laugh. 

“That worked,” you told him, watching as the guy with the bad hair swung the door open, leaving without looking back. 

“Huh,” Steve murmured, “how ‘bout that.”

—————

He didn’t say anything when the lights started turning back on, when the disco ball stopped spinning and people handed back their skates. Steve just found you on the benches, pressed shoulder to shoulder with your friends and he caught your eye from the door, another secret conversation that started with a quirk of a brow and ended with a tilt of a chin. 

You said your goodbyes and followed the boy out the building, watching as Steve placed his hand behind his back, encouraging you to catch up and grab it. You held hands across the empty parking lot, fingers twisting and playing together until you hit the main road and it was normal, it was familiar, it was Steve. 

He decided he was staying with you that night, mumbling an excuse about not facing his dad in the morning, how your bed was comfier and your mom made the best waffles but you didn’t need any convincing. 

So you snuck into your house, unnecessarily quiet ‘cause your dad was still up watching TV and your mom was in the kitchen with a glass of wine and a book and they barely looked at the boy who was following you up to your bedroom, nothing more than a “night, kids,” called out into the hallway. 

You lay side by side with the boy, half dressed and with too much bare skin on show, Steve’s shirt on the floor, your shorts almost indecent around your thighs. 

It was the first time you thought that something else might happen, legs brushing against legs and hips bumping together as you tried to get comfortable, the burn of the others lips still on your own. 

But nothing did and you were starting to wonder if anything ever would. 

1985. And it’s new, the shape of your body.

It didn’t matter that it had been a Wednesday, it was the first day in weeks that you and Steve had managed to get the day off together and you were both planning on making the most of it. 

It’s why the boy woke you up early, a rucksack already in his hand as he walked through your patio door, left open for that very reason, the rest of the house empty as your parents went to work. 

You’d been surprised at how softly he’d woken you up, fingers prodding gently at the cheek that wasn’t smushed against your pillow, eyes hidden with sleep mussed hair and one leg bare and kicked out from beneath the sheets. He grinned when you grumbled and he took your sleep warmed spot when you finally dragged yourself out of bed and into a shower. 

Steve barely looked away when you reappeared in just a towel, almost too short to be decent and when you turned to your dresser to pull out a swimsuit and clothes, his eyes dipped to the backs of your legs, thighs on show, tanned from the August sun, a small freckle there he’d never seen before. 

“You said you were gonna set an alarm, princess,” Steve teased, head pushed back into your favourite pillow and if he realised it smelled like your shampoo and peach scented body wash, he didn’t say. “Clock’s ticking.”

“Jesus, give me peace, Harrington,” you grumbled, voice still thick with sleep and the summer air was slipping through your open window and it made you move slower than you wanted to. “Turn around.”

Steve did as he was told, face crushed into your sheets and a grin on his lips ‘cause he heard the soft thump of your towel hitting the floor, the shuffle of clothes sliding across your skin. He knew you were winding him up, taking that little game you both blamed to a new level, another limit, because there was no fucking way a girl that looked the way you did, didn’t know what she was doing.

Steve heard the snap of a bikini strap, the rasp of denim shorts over long legs and when you told him he could look once more, he turned around in time to see a flash of cherry red, a swimsuit that hid little, covered by the way you pulled a white shirt over your head. 

You pushed a pair of Ray Bans onto your nose, a little too big and stolen from Steve a few summers before. You grinned, knowing, and held out a hand. 

“C’mon pretty boy, let’s go.”

Steve took the car, drove it to the outskirts of town with the windows cracked, the summer air blowing in sticky and sweet. You had your feet on the dash, a new bracelet around your ankle, woven with blue and orange thread, a matching one around Steve’s wrist that he tried to protest at but his words were weak and his smile was bright. 

He let you pick the song, cassettes spilling out of the glove compartment as you tried to find the perfect mix for a day like this. There wasn’t a cloud above Hawkins and when you drove past the Burick’s farm, the sunflowers were in full bloom, making the world that flashed past your window bright yellow and the strawberry paddocks made everything smell sweet. 

The roads were quiet and the air still, and you couldn’t see another soul as Steve parked up on the roadside, a dirt corner off of the road leading out of town. You both walked into the wheat fields, long grass towering to your waists as you headed for the tree line. The crops brushed your bare legs, scratched softly against your skin and you could feel Steve behind you the whole time, eyes on you, anticipation growing, warming you like the sun. 

When he ran, you did too, feet a little clumsy and neither of you could see where you were stepping but the peels of laughter made it worth it, the rush of the summer air on your face made it better.  You chased after the boy, bag slamming on his back, eyes glancing back at you, looking like the twelve year old with the wild hair you once knew.

Steve didn’t stop running until he hit the patch of trees, legs slowing as the branches became thicker and you slammed into his back with a soft ‘oof,’ cheeks sore from grinning and neither of you thought much of it when the boy took your hand and led you through the thickets.

The trees cleared just before the cliff dropped off, the quarry vast and a pretty green-blue underneath you. The spot was secluded, familiar to you both and a well guarded secret that was kept over the years. You came every summer, secret visits that were just for you and Steve.

You’d been waiting for a day like this for what felt like months. The height of summer, blue skies, the distant buzz of cicadas and your best friend, all to yourself. 

Something told you that Steve felt the same, ‘cause when you chanced a sideways look at him, he was already gazing back, soft smile on his face.c eyes all fond and it made the day seem even warmer. 

It didn’t take long for you both to be stripped to your swimsuits, Steve’s eyes blatantly staring as you slipped the denim shorts down your hips and pulled them down your legs. He didn’t say anything when you stretched yourself out on the blanket beside him, pebbles and grass underneath, the sun beating down from above. 

You liked the way he didn’t shy from you, not like the other boys, like he knew he was yours and you were his, like there wasn’t anyone else to worry about. So neither of you flinched when you pressed yourself to his side, warm bare skin on more warm bare skin, shoulder to shoulder and your feet just reaching where his shins were. 

You tapped a toe to them, snuck a peek at the boy beside you, grinning when you saw him smile despite his closed eyes. His lashes fluttered from behind his sunglasses, waiting for the inevitable. 

“Hey, Stevie?” 

Something in his tummy clenched at the old nickname, usually said with mirth and drag of sarcasm, but your lips were at the shell of his ear and you sounded so soft. 

“Princess.” His voice didn’t hitch at the end like a question, it stayed low, a little hoarse, like a warning. 

‘Cause you were propped onto a elbow now, body leaning into him, your hardly concealed chest pressed into his bicep and he could feel the tickle of your hair on his arm, against his cheek and you were still so close that he could feel the way you smirked against his ear. 

You pushed the button on your nose to his temple, a head butt that was more affectionate than anything else and you moved suddenly, leaning over him to grab the rucksack.  

When Steve opened his eyes he saw red, that almost orange colour that reminded him of summers and pool days, the freckle below your collarbone that not many people got to see. 

He couldn’t not look at your chest, pushed out towards his face as you stretched an arm, grasping for the strap of the bag, making a little grunting noise as you reached for it. 

Red and tiny straps, sun warmed skin that was a little darker than last month, the summer making you glow. A stretch of stomach, taught as you leaned, close enough to his own that he could feel the warmth radiate from you. Long legs pushed up onto your knees, holding you over him like a treat, like a taunt. 

But then you were pushing yourself backwards to sit, gleeful with the bag in your hands and you were already unzipping it , hand delving into its contents as you muttered to him. 

“Perv.”

It was soft and fond, no heat, no accusation but it still made the boy flush ‘cause that meant you caught him looking but Christ, you were both nineteen and full of hormones - what else was new?

“Don’t flatter yourself too much, princess,” he coughed out, trying to sound cooler than he felt. His eyes stayed hooded behind his glasses, wishing the tint of them made him harder for you to read but you knew him better than yourself. Steve knew that too. “You’ll go up a cup size one day.” 

His words hurt no more than your comment had, all light, no sharpness but you smacked at his shoulder all the same, making him grin wide at you. Steve wondered if you knew he thought of you as nothing short of perfect, he wondered if he’d ever get a chance to tell you.

But you’d found what you’d been looking for, a little plastic bag filled with a few buds and some papers, a new grinder ‘cause Steve had lost the last one at a party. You wiggled it at him, Eddie’s special weed making the air grow a little more heady, a little more sweet. 

“Wanna get high with me, Harrington?“

And god, wasn’t that a question?

Steve knew you, knew you inside out and back to front, better than anyone else did. He knew how you got after a few hits, a little needy, all touchy and full of affection. The boy had been to enough parties with you to know. You’d find him, a few hours in, coming out of seemingly nowhere, face flushed and eyes glassy. 

It didn’t matter who he was talking to, who he was with, what he was doing, you’d me on him in seconds, a ball of heat that smelled like his favourite perfume and the inside of Eddie Munson’s trailer, arms around his neck and face pressed to his chest. 

You’d drop yourself into his lap, press messy kisses to his cheeks and giggle all soft when he tried to question you on your whereabouts, if you felt okay, if you’d drank enough water. 

By now, it wasn’t really a surprise to know the entire town still thought you were dating. But he stopped refuting it as much, almost preferring the way that boys kept their distance from you when he was around. He didn’t mind the way you curled into him, lips glossy and sticky and whispering into his ear. 

He liked the way you hummed happy and whispered a ‘yes’ when you’d had enough - and Steve could always tell - and he told you it was time to go home. It didn’t matter who’s house he took you to, his or yours, both were home. 

So god, wasn’t that a question?

“I’m driving princess,” Steve murmured instead of everything he wanted to say. 

‘Will you hold onto me, if I do? Will you crawl into my lap and look at me in that way that you do? Will you put your hands in my hair and tell me I smell good? Will you touch me like I’m yours? Will you touch me like you’re mine?’

But he didn’t. 

“Not until later, Steve, we’ve got all day,” you told him, all smiles and bright eyes.

And you were right ‘cause the morning was still early, the afternoon barely beginning and there were snacks in the bag, water for when it got too hot, a walkman and some mixtapes for when the day got too quiet. 

Steve just smiled and you shook the baggie at him still, a pour on your lips that he could never really learn how to say no to. 

“Roll for me anyway?” You asked because you hated it and you weren't very good, and maybe there was something about the way Steve’s nimble fingers made quick work of it, maybe it was the way you liked to watch the tip of his tongue slide slick along the edges of the papers. 

Maybe. 

So Steve because he couldn’t say fucking no to you and that’s how you found yourself back on the blanket, legs stretched out under the heat of the sun, smoke in the air and everything a little more hazy than it was before. 

It could’ve been the weed that made you do it, maybe you could’ve even blamed it on the sun, messing with your head and your heart but Steve would never have believed your excuses, ‘cause when you suddenly sat up and swung a leg over his lap, he didn’t look surprised at all. 

His hands fell to your thighs instinctively, more than ready to press his palms onto your bare thighs, the high cut of that damn bikini showing more skin than was necessary and Steve swallowed hard from where he lay under you, Adam’s apple bobbing in his throat. 

“Princess.”

There it was again, that tone, the low way he said your name, rough like a warning, soft like he was asking for something. 

It almost sounded like please, you realised. 

You placed the joint between your lips instead of answering, the end of it burning amber and you inhaled softly, hating the way the smoke burned your lungs but loving the way it made you feel. But that could’ve been Steve’s hands on your hips, holding you steady as you tilted your head back, neck exposed, blowing smoke to the sky that was still cloudless. 

When you gazed back down at your best friend, his jaw was slack, eyes glassy behind his Ray Bans and you smiled, way too shyly for the stunt you’d just pulled. You took the glasses off his face, wanting to see him, all of him and you held the joint between you, brows raised. 

“Want a hit?” 

The boy nodded. 

He expected you to hold the roll up to his lips, let him take a drag from between your fingers as you sat happily on his lap. 

Steve didn’t expect you to take another draw from it, smoke held between your lips, eyes hooded as you leaned down and into him. Your hands found purchase on the blanket on either side of his head but you were still chest to chest. You didn’t talk, couldn’t talk, didn’t need to talk. You just nudged your nose on Steve’s and he tilted his chin towards you, hands tight on your sides like he was holding on for dear life - and oh my god, he felt like he was - before he parted his lips for you and you let go. 

Smoke blew gently from your lips to his, top lips just grazing, the movement accidental but neither of you apologised, neither complained. And when Steve held the hit there, in his chest, seconds ticked by like a countdown to something dangerous, to something explosive and on his wrecked sounding exhale, he pushed both of you up, a little frantic as your hips settled into the dip of his more. 

“Can I kiss you?” 

You asked it softly, like you were telling a secret, like you didn’t wanna admit it, like you were scared Steve was gonna say no, but the boy didn’t answer you at all, not with words anyway.

His mouth was on yours before you could finish talking and you both groaned at the contact. Blindly, you stubbed out the roach on the ground beside you, ashes rubbing into gravel and sand before your hands found purchase on Steve’s face. 

It was a kiss you hadn’t shared before, a kiss that was messier than the others, a kiss that lacked the control the others had. 

It was a kiss that usually led to something more, hands wandering in someone’s back seat, mouths on necks, voices whispering dirty things in the last row of the cinema. 

It was something you hadn’t felt with your best friend before. 

It was hot and dirty and fast, his hands on your neck, your jaw, fingers splayed into your hair and his thumb tugging greedy at the corner of your bottom lip, desperate for you to open for him, so he could lick into you. 

It didn’t help that you were both lacking so much clothing, too much bare skin pressed against each other, chest to chest and your legs wrapped around his waist. 

It was too easy to roll your hips, to whine into Steve’s mouth at the way he let out the dirtiest, prettiest noise for you. It made you want to do it again, it made you wanna thread your fingers into his hair and tug. 

“Steve.”

He thinks that’s what broke him, the way you said his name like that, soft and whimpered, like you fucking wanted him, like you needed him. The boy was sure he’d never been that hard in his life, your ass pressed into his lap, his hands wandering over the slope of your lower back, sliding over your bikini pants, fingers toying with the tiny sides of them. 

Steve thought about all the things he wished he was brave enough to say to you. ‘Are you mine? Do you know I’m yours? Do you know I always have been?’

But he couldn’t, couldn’t find the courage, couldn’t find the willpower 

 to drag his lips from yours, not unless it was to press his mouth to your neck instead, to suck and bite a little bruise there that said what he couldn’t with words. 

Mine. 

You don’t know how it ended, you barely remembered how it had started but as the night leaked in and made the quarry glitter, Steve was smoothing a hand over your hair, messy from his tugging, as you pulled your shorts back on. 

He’d packed up the bag, shrugged his T-shirt back over his chest, lips as kiss bitten as yours, skin warm from the sun and you. It felt like there was so much to be said, it felt like nothing at all. A natural occurrence, an almost yearly event, something cosmic, something magic, like a meteor strike, like a new planet being discovered. 

You got to kiss your best friend and Steve got to kiss his and it simply felt like you were both one step closer to where you were both going to end up. You were so sure it was with him, but maybe that was just the whispers of your moms, voices hardly quiet as they gushed by the Harrington’s pool summers ago, talking about how their kids were something special together, how sometimes soulmates did exist. 

So it didn’t feel awkward when Steve swiped a stand of hair from your cheek, took your hand in his and pressed one more kiss to the top of it before letting go, stepping back for another summer, until one of you - or both of you - were finally ready to say what needed to be said. 

It wasn’t going to happen that day, but it felt closer than ever. 

And when he drove you both home, Steve didn’t tut at you for putting your feet on the dash, in fact, he smiled all soft the whole drive back into Hawkins, past the same wheat fields, the water tower, the sunflowers and fruit fields that made the night smell sweet. 

It was dark when you both snuck in through the back garden gate, Steve’s patio light still on and there was smoke coming from the little fire pit by the pool, gentle chatter and laughter from where both of your parents sat with glasses of wine. Leftover dinner dishes and empty plates sat on the wooden table and neither couple were surprised to see you both. 

You didn’t know that your parents watched the way Steve stood tall behind you, always in reach, an open hand just hovering by your side as if he was always ready to catch you. You didn’t know that his mom would smile at you, watching the way you watched her son, cheeks sore with a grin she’d never tire of seeing. 

Even Steve’s dad would shake his head, fond, making everyone titter and the pair of you blush as he asked accusingly, “and what have you two been up to all day?”

You wondered if they could see the way you flushed in the dark, if they saw the swell to Steve’s bottom lip from the way you’d been greedy with it, if they noticed the pretty lilac bruise that should’ve hopefully been hidden by your shirt. 

But it was okay. ‘Cause you felt Steve warm and solid at your back, his chest pressed against you and the leftover taste of him and smoke on your lips. The air smelled like honeysuckle and chlorine, fresh lavender and basil from a dinner you’d missed and the back garden gate was still swinging on its hinges. 

1986. And I scream, “For whatever it’s worth, I love you, ain’t that the worst thing you’ve ever heard?”

Steve fucking hated Chris Maxwell. He’d disliked the guy in high school, always running his mouth and exaggerating his lacrosse wins, the girls he got with, the drugs he managed to score. He had the same car as Steve, the same BMW in a shitty puke green colour and he drove it like an idiot.

He hated him even more when you started dating him.

 You’d dated guys before, shit, Steve had had his fair share of girls over the years too. Nothing ever serious, nothing that meant all that much ‘cause the girls he brought to parties and basement hang outs took one look at you and tried to make him choose. 

Steve always chose you.

You’d dated less, Steve had always noticed, shying away from unfamiliar attention, choosing to kiss and run after the party was over, no numbers exchanged, no dates to be had. You’d always scrunched your nose at him and evaded the question when Steve asked, murmuring something about how it wasn’t worth the hassle.

It’s why Steve had been so surprised when you were dropped off one day by Maxwell, in his snot green car with his stupid smarmy smirk. Once became twice, twice became three times and before you both knew it, you were lounging at the bottom of Steve’s bed one day as he sat at his desk and you were shrugging.

“Uh, yeah, I guess? Maybe he is my boyfriend?”

Steve remembered coughing out a laugh, because, how could you not know?

But you were being picked up and dropped off by the boy on numerous occasions and Steve quickly grew tired of watching him try and eat your face in his front seat. But only two months had passed before things seemingly grew tired and sour, your face twisting in a veil of annoyance when you heard his car horn blast from the street.

He never got out of the car to knock on your door, Steve had noted, never walking you up the path at night to see you safely inside. Steve was sure the last straw came on the day he was already in your living room, hands clutching the casserole dish that his mom had sent him to borrow. You’d rolled up, the stupid vomit coloured car catching the curb as it squealed to a stop, music blasting from the inside and your dad mirrored Steve’s expression as the two men stood at the window.

Noses scrunched, lips downturned, eyes narrowed.

“I don’t like that little punk,” your dad had grumbled.

“Same,” Steve had answered and the two of them were oblivious to the way your mother grinned behind their backs. 

But Steve had watched you storm out, car door slamming as Chris leaned over to the open window, yelling something about coming back and let’s talk about this honey!

You’d ignored him and Steve had walked home feeling a little lighter than he had in weeks.

He still didn’t expect Chris to come sneaking into his back yard one evening, when the town was quietening down, when the fireflies came out and the sun made the sky streaky with pink and peach and lilac.

Steve had been propped against the wall of his house, just beside the back garden gate, hidden in that little lane that no one seemed to use. The space that smelled like honeysuckle and lavender, the place that grew a little wild and reminded him of you. There was more ivy on the wall that year, growing more untamed than it ever had and it made Steve smile to see that it was crawling up the side of your house too, almost to your bedroom window. 

A cigarette hung from his lips, a bad habit he hadn’t picked up since he was seventeen and easily persuaded but work was shit, his dad was nagging at him about reapplying for colleges and he hated that he’d hardly seen you in a week. 

And the reason why was creeping through the gate, shoulders hunched and eyes alert. Chris had stopped dead in his tracks at the sight of Steve, a scowl on his face as he snarled at him accusingly. 

“What the fuck are you doing here?”

Steve rolled his eyes, cigarette still wet between his lips and it moved as he replied, his words an annoyed mumble. 

“This is my fuckin’ garden, dickwad. You went through the wrong gate.”

It took the boy a moment to realise his mistake and instead of apologising, or admitting to it, he turned and continued to glare at Steve. 

“S’your goddamn fault I’m sneaking around anyway, Harrington,” Chris hissed, his eyes already seeking out your bedroom window across from them. 

It was ever so slightly cracked, curtains shut and blowing in the breeze but Steve knew you kept it open so you could smell the honeysuckle you loved so much, so that you could hear Steve if he opened his window across from you, to whisper into the night. 

It had been a long time since you shared secrets and stories across the garden gates, but old habits die hard and Steve kept his open for the very same reason. 

“My fault?” Steve snorted, an offended and somewhat dramatic hand pressed to his chest. He kicked off of the wall, cigarette throwing smoke into the air and he exhaled, smirking when some of it blew into Chris’ face. “And what the fuck did I do, Maxwell?”

“Everything’s always about you!” The other boy burst out, without much preamble, “whole fuckin’ relationship revolved around you, you’re all she talked about and then she tell has the nerve to tell me that she’s breaking up with me.”

Steve looked at Chris with raised brows, cigarette held lightly between a finger and his thumb, the top of it still burning in the dim light. 

“Is that so?” Steve took a drag, tried to keep his heartbeat steady, tried not to smile. “Had nothin’ to do with the way you spoke to her like shit and was always demanding stuff, no?”

The boy levelled Steve with a stare, nostrils flared and hands shoved in his pockets. “Of course she tells you fucking everything.”

“Of course she tells me fucking everything,” Steve repeated, emphasis on every word as he glowered at your ex, brows furrowed and fist clenched by his side. “And what’s it to you if she does-”

“What the fuck is going on?”

The two boys looked up, one grinning, the other desperate at the sight of you, hanging out your open window. 

Steve held up a hand in a way, features perfectly amicable as he beamed.

“What are you doing here, Chris? There’s a reason I’ve not taken your calls,” you sounded bored, tired and the boy had barely begun to answer before you’d already moved onto Steve. 

“Honey, please, I’m begging you can we just ta-”

“Steve, are you smoking? Again? Really?” You tutted, elbow on the window frame as you looked down at him with a soft pout. 

“My bad, princess,” but the boy was grinning, not looking very sorry at all ‘cause Chris was silently fuming beside him. “Stressful times, y’know?”

He took another long drag, blew the smoke out above the other boy's head and continued smiling that bright grin. Steve looked up at you again, head tilted as he gestured to your ex and squinted against the sun that was starting to set behind your roof. 

“Want me to take out the trash for you?”

His words earned him a shove, a bark of laughter leaving his lips as he barely stumbled against the other boy's hands. But before Steve could retaliate, you were calling down in a voice Steve knew you reserved for telling him off when he got too drunk, when he pushed your buttons a little too much. 

“Hey! Chris! Jesus, quit it!” You were leaning out of the window more, sleep shirt hanging off of one shoulder and a pucker between your brows. “Just go, okay? We’ve already spoken about this, I’m not interested.”

“See, this is what I was fuckin’ talking about,” Chris hissed, low enough so only Steve could hear and Steve didn’t know how to reply. 

Quiet wrapped around all three of you, the distant trickle of the pool, the muted buzz of Steve’s television from his living room and eventually, a strangled curse from your ex boyfriend's lips as he shouldered past Steve and swung the garden gate open, the wood hitting the brick. 

Steve tried not to grin as he looked back up at you, tongue pressed to the side of his cheek and his brown eyes glittering. The sunset made you both rosy, a sunbeam stretching across the side of your house, lighting up the bricks and you. 

“He seems touchy.”

“Shut up, Harrington,” you knew Steve heard the smile in your voice, the affection in the roll of your eyes. “You coming up?”

And then you disappeared, ducking back into your room and sliding the window closed with a click. 

Steve didn’t realise your parents were out until he walked over the empty driveway, the sun lowering itself into the line of trees across the street, the sky turning lavender, the moon making an appearance. He didn’t knock, just walked in through your front door, shoes toed off by the porch before he jogged up the stairs. 

Your door was already open and he found you lazing on your bed, sheets ruffled and the lights off, just the leftover sun trickling in through the open curtains and the crystals you hung at the windows sent rainbows scattering across your walls. 

Some of them fell across your bare thighs where you lay, stomach down, legs in the air in a pair of shorts that were hardly seen from underneath the huge shirt that you wore. Another streak of colour landed on your face, fluttering as the crystal spun on their chains, dancing in the last of the light. 

Steve wanted to kiss it, to see if the pretty shades on your cheek made you taste any sweeter than he already knew.

“You didn’t tell me you broke up,” Steve said and there was nothing accusatory in his voice, just genuine curiosity, soft and gentle. 

He fell onto the bed beside you, made the mattress dip as he shelled into your pile of pillows at the opposite end from where you lay. He pushed a socked foot into your side, digging in at the spaces between your ribs and making you squirm. Steve caught a smile, spread on your lips just for him and you twisted to bat him away, not surprised when his hands found yours and tugged. 

You let him pull you beside him, into the mess of sheets and too many cushions, lying so you were facing him, noses a breadth apart, eyes lowered as you spoke, suddenly nervous. 

You shrugged, fingers playing with the edges of a pillow, “just sort of happened, wasn’t a big deal.”

A beat of silence, the boy wondering if that was the truth, if there was something more behind your words, if you were hiding something in the way you refused to meet his gaze. Steve wondered if you could feel his heart pounding against the mattress, if it was echoing loud through your pillow the way he was sure it was his. 

It felt like something was building, like something was coming. Something big, something new, something wild. Like a tropical storm, a bolt of lightning across the town, a flash flood, a hurricane, something to announce that summer was over. 

That time was up. 

“You don’t seem too heartbroken ‘bout it,” Steve hedged, his gaze trained on your hands, the way your fingers picked and played with the cotton between you both. He wanted to take your hand in his, run a thumb across your palm and soothe you. 

“Cant get my heart broken by a guy that never had it.”

“He didn’t?”

“Don’t play dumb, Stevie,” you chided gently, teasing, “it doesn’t suit you.”

“Always thought he wasn’t good enough for you,” the boy responded, keeping what he really wanted to say hidden behind his tongue. 

“You said that about all the guys I got with.”

A gentle nudge, your hand on his chest, a shuffle closer, breathing the same air, the rainbow on your cheekbone flitting to Steve’s lips as the sun moved down. He watched you chase it with your eyes, gaze soft, looking a little longingly, or maybe he was just hopeful. 

“It’s true.”

A soft hum, a pleased noise, a smile that finally reached your eyes and a hand that fell to Steve’s arm, running down the length of it until your fingers found the cuff of his sweater and played with that instead. 

It was the closet Steve had been to holding your hand for a while and it felt like the beginning of summer again, back to bike rides to the arcade, sticky fingers tips and slurpees that were almost too big to hold. 

“Why’d you break up with him?”

You stopped, fingertips brushing over Steve’s wrist, a pause on his pulse point that told you that maybe he was as nervous as you felt. Your knees bumped his, rough denim on soft skin, the day leaking out of your room as the sun fell behind the treetops and suddenly everything was blue. 

Navy tinted shadows, inky skin, indigo lines of barely there light that turned Steve’s skin lilac and you breathed in, held it, let the burn in your chest for a second or two before letting it back out. 

Summer was leaking away, slipping behind the moon and the night, and you suddenly felt too tired to lie anymore, to pretend. 

“He wasn’t all that happy that I was in love with someone else.”

God, you felt brave. 

Bold. 

Blue. 

Steve didn’t look all that surprised, a flicker of soft realisation over his eyes, no shock, just a gentle breath of ‘it’s time?’

“I can’t say I blame the guy,” Steve murmured, chin ducking to meet yours, foreheads pressed together on the same pillow and his hand found yours, fingers twisted together. “Don’t think I’d be very pleased either.”

“I know,” you told him, gaze trained on the way his lips moved when he spoke. “I didn’t mean to, I don’t even know when it happened.”

“No?”

You shook your head, feeling heavier than you had, like you were pulled into the boy and something magic was keeping you there. You could smell lavender and cedar and smoke and Steve. 

“Might’ve been at this party, in someone’s basement. Might’ve been the time I was pushed into a closet and my best friend kissed me.”

“That sounds awful,” Steve mused and the beginnings of a grin were pulling at his lips, “a whole five years, huh?”

“Right? Isn’t that just the worst thing you’ve ever heard?”

He liked the way you said those words, like it was the opposite, your voice all sunshine and warmth and leftover summer. You were blue skies and honeysuckle, wildflowers and long drives, sleepovers on your bedroom carpet and sneaking out through the back gate. 

“Y’know, I think I’ve got you beat,” said the boy, all faux seriousness as he brought his hand to your waist, palm wide and warm as he pushed at your shirt, bunching it up over your ribs until he could touch bare skin.

“You do?” You felt a little breathless at his touch, a feeling you’d craved since last summer at the quarry, a feeling you’d missed despite knowing you’d get it again soon, eventually. Now. 

“Oh yeah,” Steve scoffed, voice teasing, gaze staring at you from between dark lashes. “I once knocked on this girl’s front door, asked her if she wanted to go to the arcade with me and I didn’t even mind when she hogged all the slurpee. I was a goner.”

“I did not!” You laughed, the sound pressed to Steve’s neck ‘cause he was pulling you into him, beaming bright and more carefree than you’d seen him in a while. “Liar.”

“Fell in love with the first girl I ever kissed,” he whispered, cheek pressed against yours as he whispered into your hair, like a secret he was sure you already knew. “How sad is that?”

You shook your head, hands clutched the material of Steve’s shirt, fists to his chest as if he was going to leave. 

“S’not sad at all,” you told him and god your voice was a hush, your lips against the shell of his ear and you felt the breath that he sucked in and held. “Long time to wait though, huh?”

Steve nodded, his tongue swiping across his bottom lip as he pulled back, seeking you out in the dark of your room, noses bumping. 

“Feels worth it, don’t you think?” 

And god, it did. 

It happened the way summer did. Slow and inevitable, like the gradual pick up of warmth through the year, the way you expected the sun in the morning, blue skies through your window, ice cream for lunch. 

It happened like it was supposed to, like it was meant to, like you’d waited all that time just to greet it with a warm shyness, a coy, “oh, I’ve been expecting you.”

It rolled in like a present, like a gift, like a reward. Like something that the world wanted you both to have, like the universe knew you were supposed to be together. So you shared first kisses between the wildflowers, let the seeds of something more bloom between your ribs, the spaces between your chests and your hearts. You let it simmer in the warm afternoons, burn a little stronger on cliff tops over quarry’s, picnic blankets rough under bare knees and hands in hair. 

“It does,” you breathed, closer to the boy than you had been, noses pressed into cheeks and for the last time, your best friend asked you your favourite question, one that tasted like fresh lemonade and smoke, cherry slurpees and fresh flowers in the air. 

“Hey princess?”

You hummed a response, eyes already closed, lashes brushing at the corners, a small smile playing on the curve of your lips. 

“Can I kiss you?”

You were on Steve before he could finish asking, hands on his jaw, tugging him into you, the hand that he had on your waist tightening its grip as your lips met. 

It felt different than last summer. Slower, deeper, lazier, like you both knew that this wasn’t the last kiss, like you both knew you didn’t have to wait until next year, or the year after. 

Like you both knew that this time was it. 

You moved in the dark of your room together, Steve pushing you back into the plush of your bed, moving over you to hold himself there, chest just brushing yours as one hand found purchase in your sheets, careful not to crush you. 

He caught the leg that you brought up to his side on instinct, desperate to feel more of him, wanting to press into him. Steve’s finger curled under the space behind your knee, hooked there so he could hold your thigh against his hip, so he could move into the space you created for him, body rolling into yours. 

He swallowed the gasp you gave him, kissed away the sigh and the blue of the room seemed a little brighter with his lips on yours. You whined against him until the boy caught on, moving back onto his knees only for you to follow, chest pressed against his and only breaking the kiss for him to lift his arms for you. His shirt hit the floor, yours following suit, all bare skin underneath with some new freckles to find, a trail of summer; water fights, sneaking out and greeting the morning together on the hood of Steve’s car. 

Steve ducked down to meet you, to let you kiss him a little deeper, a little dirtier, tongue licking at the seam of your lips, groaning when you opened for him, hand spanning the width of your back, hips pressed together with intent. 

“I’m fucking desperate for you, y’know that right?” Steve groaned, words sinking into your mouth with every push of his lips against yours and you swore you’d never heard anything prettier. “Always have been, totally gone on you, princess.”

“Steve,” you felt hot with the prick of emotion, tears brimming at your lashes ‘cause it was all too much and not enough, want and longing and need building up, years of looking, of touching and just tasting, searching kisses, useless excuses, never talking about it after. 

And then his hands were back on your legs, palms hooked around the backs of your knees and you were falling together, bouncing off of the mattress, pillows falling to the floor and god, you were crashing into each other. 

It was mixtapes on birthdays, fresh strawberries after swimming, a hand held in the dark after a scary movie, sitting in the yard after dark when the night was still warm and you don’t know how to tell your best friend that you thought they were perfect. 

Your shorts slid off too easily, hips raised from the bed and Steve’s fingers curled into the waistband. He kicked off his jeans with the help of your feet, toes pushed into the denim as he shucked them to the floor. 

Suddenly, there was more skin to touch, to taste, to look at, and Steve took note of every curve he hadn’t seen, every little mole and scar, tan lines in places he always tried not to stare at. 

But he kissed them instead, lips trailing hot over your chest, kisses pressed to the dip of your clavicle, the patch of sunburn on your shoulder and you felt like you had caught the entire months of summer in your chest. 

It all felt a little golden.

But night had crawled in and the shadows were darker, making every touch more intense, every kiss feeling like a confession. Your underwear joined his, piled at the foot of your bed with spilled sheets and pushed pillows and the world fell into silence for you both. 

No buzz or insects, no sprinklers in the yard, no screech of brakes from the street, no yelling from a tv. 

Everything was hushed as Steve spread his fingers over you, a choked gasp at the way he made you feel, a kiss to soothe. He kissed you through it, fingers feeling thick as he slid one and then two inside of you, curling up and searching, face pulled back from your own so he could watch you fall apart beneath him. 

“So fuckin’ pretty, so pretty,” Steve told you and you felt it, you believed him, forehead pressed to his as you gasped out his name, hands wrapped around his biceps as he coaxed you over the edge. “Can you come for me princess? Please?”

You did as he asked, as if you had any say in the matter, crashing and tumbling and falling into him, body tight, eyes clenched shut and lips falling apart in the prettiest moan Steve had ever heard. 

“Oh shit, babe, that’s it, ‘atta girl, princess.”

He pulled your hands from his length when you made an eager grasp for him, not cruel, just desperate. Steve shook his head, Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallowed thickly, jaw slack and eyes heavy. 

“Babe, if you touch me s’all gonna be over in a second,” he admitted hoarsely and his voice held no shame. 

So you covered him in kisses, flipped your positions from where you lay on the bed and pushed the boy into the pillows instead. You caught his lips on yours, messier now that you’d had a taste of what was to come, mouth leaving gloss over his jaw, down his throat and you felt the vibrations over your tongue when Steve moaned. 

You moved over him, slick and warm, hips pushing into his as you straddled him, making a mess of his boxers and short circuiting his brain as Steve gripped your thighs, touch almost cruel as he held on for dear life. 

You pressed your palms to his chest, dropped yourself down a little so your lips could graze his own, a new kind of kiss, teasing, a whisper that was barely there. 

It promised more to come, it kept him waiting and wanting, made Steve groan out at the realisation that he was entirely yours and god, maybe, just maybe, you were his too. 

“Fucking hell,” he whispered, and his voice was shot, “princess, please, s’not nice to tease a man like that.”

You grinned, filled with a confidence you only ever gained from being near Steve, bolstered by the way he looked at you - all heavy lidded and slack jade, chest and cheeks flushed underneath you. 

“You’ve never complained before,” you murmured back, mouth parted over his, Cupid’s bows touching but never really pressing your lips to his. 

It made you both think back to all the looks, the gazes, the stares filled with longing and wanting and yearning. That same question, asked with uncertainty, with a tumble of nerves, a burst of wonder, over the years until you knew what each other would taste like, until you knew how their lips felt between your own. 

“Vixen,” Steve mumbled and it should’ve been said like an insult, like a curse but his voice was molten honey, sweet caramel and the start of a summer morning. 

“Can I kiss you, Harrington?” The question wasn’t needed, and you were starting to think it never had been, but you loved the way his lips lifted into a soft smile under yours, noses brushing as he nodded, waiting patiently with his hands smoothing over the backs of your thighs. 

Steve made a pretty noise at the back of his throat, a gasp and a moan, a wrecked, “please,” falling onto your lips. 

You kissed him without any worries, without any thoughts of what does this mean for tomorrow? You kissed him like you were greeting summer, like he was the month of June and blue skies, like you could taste peaches and fresh lemonade on his lips, like he held all your secrets behind his teeth. 

He did.

Your harsh pants and soft moans mixed as you moved together, the boy shuffling underneath you as he rid himself of his underwear, boxers kicked to the end of your bed where they’d eventually be lost. 

He took himself in his hand, hard and long, his breath shaky as you slid down, gasping into his mouth as you got yourself seated, tightening around him for the first time. 

Steve whispered your name, soft, sinful, like a prayer, like a praise. 

“I’m not gonna last long,” he grunted, eyes squeezed shut as he clasped your face in his hands, fingers splayed across the line of your jaw, over the apples of your cheeks. “M’sorry, it’s just- you’re too much, princess-”

You cut him off with a kiss - a silent ‘it’s okay’ -  hips shifting, rolling over him as you moved, whimpering into his mouth. Steve swallowed your noises, gave you back his own and it wasn’t long before he was rolling you both over. 

His hands found the insides of your thighs first, spreading them so he could fit between, length still inside of you, pressing into all the right places. Palms smoothed up your sides, over the ripples of your ribs, calluses catching soft skin and the feel of it all made you sigh, head tilted back. 

Your hands found his, fingers intertwined as he pressed them back into the pillow below you, chest brushing up against your own as he moved, your legs curled around his waist and it was bliss, it was bright white behind your eyes, it was glitter in the dark, it was a electricity in your bones. 

“Steve,” your voice was a whimper, an almost cry, your hands grappling at his shoulders for purchase as he pushed you into the mattress with thrust after thrust. 

It all felt a little wild, gasping into open mouths, lips barely managing to find the other for a kiss, sliding messy over each other as hands pulled hair and fingers squeezed at arms, at thighs, at waists. 

“I know,” the boy said, sounding just as wrecked as you did, his face buried in the crook of your neck, his hands under the small of your back, fingers splayed wide so he could lift your hips into his own. “I know, fuck, you close? Please tell me you’re close.”

You answered with a moan, a pitched keen, your fingers tugging the lengths of hair at the nape of the boys neck and he groaned, a deep dirty sound in response and then you were falling apart, a vice around him, eyes clenched shut and teeth biting down on the muscle in his shoulder. 

Your name tumbled from his lips, a holy sound and Steve moved a little messier, his hips stuttering before he pulled out, both of you sighing at the loss, before he spilled onto your stomach with the help of your hand. 

The air smelled like summer and sex and Steve. 

Your pants filled the air, mixing with the boys and the trickle of the pool in the backyard. You lay together, breathless and skin slick, flyaway hairs sticking to your forehead, eyes a little glassy and lips rosy from greedy kisses. 

Steve pressed another to you then, and you were almost dizzy with it. He didn’t ask, neither did you. You didn’t have to. Not anymore. So he kissed you a little harder, tempting pretty sounds from your chest that he chased with his mouth, body still pressed against yours in a way you were sure you’d never grow tired of. 

No one spoke until you were both cleaned and half dressed, bodies lazy across your sheets, the night still too warm to wear anything more than your underwear, chests bare in the dark and pressed greedily to each other. A slow hand brushed across the small of your back as you lay on your stomach, head on the boy’s chest and your fingers carding through his hair. 

Every now and then you’d press a kiss to wherever you could reach: his palm when it smoothed over your cheek, his sternum where you lay, the sharp line of his jaw when you found the energy to tilt your head up. 

Steve responded in kind, his lips on your forehead, the top of your crown, the end of your nose. 

The silence was filled with the wonder of each touch, both of you bursting at the seams as you pressed your mouths to each other without worrying, without asking. 

But then Steve shifted against the pillows, moved until you were over him, chest to chest and your legs in the space between his. You propped your chin on his chest, eyes sleepy as you looked up at him and you hummed in delight when he smoothed hand over your hair, tucking it behind your ear. 

“You know I’m in love with you, don’t you?”

Heavy words were said so simply, so easily, and you did. You knew. But it still sucked the breath from you, it still made you ache to hear it out loud. 

“Yeah, I do,” you answered, because you did. You knew it from the way Steve looked at you, the way he liked to be near you, to sit a fraction too close. You knew it from the way he shared his slurpees, his car, his bed, his thoughts, his secrets. You felt it in his gaze, his touch, in the way he’d grown with you. “I’m in love with you too.”

“Yeah, princess, I know.”

And it was as easy as that. Simple like summer, inevitable, like the way the month of June rolls in after May. It was expected, like the warmth and the heat, like the sun in the morning and the clear starry skies at night. 

It was an eventuality, a slow burn, a want, a need, a necessity. 

It was Steve and it was summer and they belonged in their entirety to you.

-----

Ko-Fi ♡

#steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington x you #steve harrington fic #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington smut #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington fanfiction #steve harrington fanfic #stranger things fic #stranger things

[thegreencanary]

Evil is Everywhere (2)

Okay here is Chapter 2! You can read Chapter 1 here for the background on the story. And Chapter 3 / Chapter 4 / Chapter 5

A/N: This is my work and I don’t give anyone the permission to post it anywhere claiming to be someone else’s. I worked hard on this, if you enjoy it please interact. Requests are open.

TW: Kidnapping, Abuse, Language, Drugs, Drinking, Torture. MINORS YOU KNOW ITS A DNI GO FIND STEVE.

This one is going to be a lot more intense than chapter 1 so buckle up buttercup. Please take the TW’s seriously. Mental health is more important. Take care of you boo

Summary: Just because Vecna was destroyed doesn’t mean Hawkins is still safe. Humans can be just as scary as demigorgons.

The damn clock kept ticking in the garage, Billy stopped into work to pick up his paycheck and they roped him into to helping fix a few cars. He’d planned on taking you out to celebrate your new job, because of course you’d get it. He was a little surprised you hadn’t gone looking for him yet, since it was about 5 hours after you said your goodbyes on the phone. He had this…feeling in his stomach but part of him thought it was just nerves. Billy finally realized he was in love with you and he was going to tell you tonight.

“Hey…Bill…why don’t you come into the office. We’ve gotta…talk.”

His boss seemed, anxious and uncomfortable. Super unusual for him, so Billy looked in the office and saw your father sitting inside. Immediately his heart dropped. Something was wrong; while your father wasn’t the BIGGEST fan of Billy, he saw that the Cali boy was trying. Genuinely trying to make you happy and do what was best for you. Looking up, your father sighed at the sight of your boyfriend. He looked how your dad felt.

“Look. I’m not going to drag this out. We don’t have time. Y/N was kidnapped from the mini mart this morning. She never made it to her interview and the cops found blood outside of my car. The door was open and all the groceries were dropped on the ground.”

Your father woke up to chief Hopper knocking on his door. Hopper had recognized the scene from the last missing kid and immediately alerted him. Your dad had no idea what to do, so he went to Billy. Unfortunately because your dad worked so much he didn’t know much about you in your teen years. He knew you were dating and you were head over heels for this boy, so maybe he could help.

Billy stood in the office, completely numb. He heard everything but nothing registered. You…you were fine, right? He’d just talked to you about tonight…he was going to pick you up after your interview…but now you’re…

“God. DAMN IT.”

Billy grabbed the small table of next to the chair that your dad was in and threw it at the wall. He was FUROUS. Why did you go out by yourself when the whole town was on high alert?? He was at Harringtons for fucks sake you could have taken 5 fucking minutes to get him and he would have gone with you. *God…shit…fucking…FUCK!*

His boss didn’t even stop him when Billy stormed out. Your dad completely understanding Billy’s emotions. He felt the same way. Billy’s car roared to life as he sped to Steve’s…only to find a police car in the driveway. Steve and Max were talking to Hopper and they both looked distraught. Billy damn near jumped out of his car and Hopper nodded at him.

“Hey kid. I’m assuming you saw her dad today.”

Billy nodded and tried his best to keep from screaming at the chief for standing outside this house instead of looking for you.

“Look. I know you kids. If I ask you guys to stay out of the investigation, will you? Will you just trust me?”

“No.” Billy, Max and Steve damn near created a choir with their instant response.

“Yeah, I didn’t think so. Alright. Have everyone meet me at the cabin in a few hours. The less children involved the better.”

He looked at Max and she gave back a look that would make anyone shiver. Hopper just rolled his eyes and got in his car.

“Give me 3 hours. I’ll fill you all in then.”

The police car took off and Billy felt Steve and Max hug him from behind. He didn’t want to turn around. He didn’t want it to be real.

“We’re gonna get her back Billy”

Max said it more to calm herself down. She knew that Billy would never stop looking for you. If he found you dead, he’d never stop hunting the person who killed you.

“I know. We have no other option.”

———————-

You hated rats, I mean they were kind of cute and all but being chained up and watching them scurry around waiting to eat you made you hate rats. The wack to the back of your head left you groggy as hell but you still tried to do your best to figure out where you were.

Definitely deep in the woods, possibly underground? It was too dark to tell but it was damp and there was water dripping. You couldn’t speak, there was a gag tied tightly around your mouth. The chains on your hand, feet and neck kept you in a fairly restrained position. Maintaining stead breaths you tried to remain calm, the Upside Down was worse than this. You could handle this…right?

A sharp pain hit you as you pulled against all your restraints. Someone just kicked you in the face.

“Wakey wakey. Welcome to hell.”

You rolled your eyes. You’d been to hell, this was just some twisted idiots fantasy.

“Y/N, I’ve been waiting for you.”

That voice…it sounded so familiar. You were too disoriented to place it. You tried to speak but this time a hot, burning hot, iron was dug into your shoulder.

“You’re mine now pig. I have you all to myself. I ditched the others so I can focus all of my energy on you.”

Andy Johnson?? You remember him being one Jason Carver’s little sheep but Jason was usually the one creeping on you. There were rumors of what happened to Jason after the earthquakes, but Andy?. You knew he went crazy after everything, but it was only a topic for about a week. He’d been checked into a mental hospital in Indianapolis…no one had said anything about him getting out.

“You’re going to love me Y/N. We’re going to be in love. You’re going to love me.”

Yep. He was still fucking crazy. You gasped for air when he took the gag off but it was quickly taken from you as he crashed his lips onto yours in the most violent and painful kiss. He bit down hard on your lip and you screamed out. That prompted a swift punch to your ribs and you leaned forward, vomiting.

“That’s right. Expel all the unclean spirits. I’ll make you perfect. Then we can be together forever.”

Holy fucking shit. *Billy…please God save me Billy.*

———————

Hopper was late. Everyone else was at the cabin, even Joyce. You’d done such a good job of bringing everyone together during the final stages of the Venca invasion; it pissed Billy off that you weren’t there to see how much everyone cared about you.

Eddie was trying the lighten the mood for the kids by doing some dumb DND comparison to you being a princess trapped in a tower. Billy didn’t pay attention to it, he just stared at the door; willing Hopper to come in with you in his arms. Eventually Hopper opened the door; be he looked worse than before.

“Sorry I’m late. We had some bodies turn up.”

Billy froze. Everyone else gasped.

“Not Y/N! She’s still missing. It’s the other missing kids that turned up. They’re all…”

“Jesus hop! You can’t scare us like that!”

Joyce cut him of before he could mention all the dead kids. Billy viably relaxed but he didn’t know if he was going to make it through this. You were his rock, Thinking if you being dead or hurting…it was almost too much for him; almost. Right now, you needed him.

“Cut the bullshit. What do you know?”

A few hours and some large pizzas later everyone was filled in. The good news was you hadn’t been gone for very long. The other victims had been missing for 3-5 days before they turned up dead. The bad news was the torture, starvation and dehydration. Billy excused himself for a cigarette and sat outside in silence for a moment. Eddie wordlessly joined him and they smoked quietly for a few minutes. Eddie was one that Billy had gotten close with just because of the fact that they both died and came back. It was a calm reminder to Billy that you had a good chance of survival, you were a fighter.

Before Eddie went back inside he placed a hand on Billy’s shoulder and squeezed it gently. Then without a word he went back in. You were going to be found. Billy was going to bring you home.

——————

A/N: That’s chapter 2! The build up is going to be longer with this so just bear with me. It’s gonna get intense here soon!

Chapter 3 / Chapter 4 / Chapter 5

Tag list: @innercreationflower

#billy hargrove #billy hargrove x reader #billy stranger things #billy x reader #billy could have been saved #billy hargrove x female reader #billy x you #stranger things #billy deserved better #billy hargrove x you #:read more:

[edelweiss-coffee]

hey! hope you’re doing well. I was wondering if maybe you can do one for Steve x reader where you’re really close best friends and one day you both go to a house party and steve gets pretty drunk and just super affectionate with you? like he’s never done this before and he’s holding your hand and sometimes even stealing kisses as if it’s something normal he always did and you blush every time but just overall drunk affection from your best friend

i got completely out of hand with this i'm sorry it's so long-- i never get to write for steve and i got carried away xoxo

"that lipstick-- again"

steve taps his foot, mocking impatience.

"you ready to go, cleopatra?" he jeers at you applying your eyeliner.

"almost," you drawl, mouth open, as if it will somehow make your eyes wide enough to fit a perfect stroke of liner.

"since we're late," he sets a beer can on your vanity. "pre-game?" he smirks.

"ah, don't you have to drive?" you ask, barely looking away from your mirror.

"yes, y/n, i do. that's why this," he cracks the beer open. "is for you. loosen up a bit?" he sticks his tongue out and nudges your shoulder.

"steve!" you motion at the lipstick in your hand, and the line of blushed pink smeared across your cheek.

"ope!" he laughs apologetically as you wipe your cheek and try again.

"fucker," you laugh. "i'm ready now."

"not yet, you're not. drink up, buttercup." he hands you the beer.

"fine, fine," you agree. and grab it. you take a sip first, but it's cold and therefore flavorless, so you just gulp the whole can down.

"damn, okay. let's go then." steve laughs and steps out the door.

the ride is short, but steve sings along loudly to his favorite mixtape all the while.

"I DON'T WANNA LOSE YOUR LOVE, TONIIIIGHT!" he beams, slightly out of tune, as your hair blows in the wind. what a sweet little memory to keep with your best friend.

when the two of you arrive to the party, the music is loud. everybody is attached to everybody. it's hot, and it smells like weed.

"y/n, over here," steve motions toward the kitchen.

he steps to the counter and pours nearly half a bottle of vodka into a cup and mixes it with what may as well be a teaspoon of soda.

"jeez, harrington. tryna put some hair on your chest, or what?" you tease, grabbing a shot glass.

"'m thirsty, what can i say?"

he starts downing his cup with ease. as you pour vodka into your shot glass, he starts making another drink, already.

christ.

you take the shot.

the bass of the music booms through the house as steve crafts his "drink" and you opt for a beer. you feel yourself reaching for steve as a comfort. you don't go out too much. but you let him finish mixing.

"c'mon, pretty girl. living room?" he gestures to you. cup in one hand, vodka bottle in the other.

"takin' that with ya?" you jeer.

"do you wanna keep comin' back into the kitchen for refills, or do you wanna do shots all comfy with your buddy?" he asks sarcastically.

he walks through the awning and into the living room. he's already stumbling. not a lot, just enough that you notice. having watched the boy walk up your driveway enough times to be familiar with his gait.

the two of you find the somehow empty reading window and sit gently next to eachother. as you sip your beer, steve chugs down his second drink and looks at you.

"you look so, so nice tonight, y/n.” he taps you on your leg and smiles.

"thanks, harrington," you laugh.

what a dork.

"that's really sUPER, SUPERGIIIIRLLL," he sings along to the song blasting on the stereo.

"didn't know you liked XTC, harrington. their music is for nerds," you tease, knowing full well they're your favorite band.

"oh really, y/l/n? that's inchresting--" he slurs. "aonly know this song buguz it's always playing on YOUR stero, you do realize that?" he laughs and brushes his hands against his thighs.

you smile and raise your hands above your head in mimed surrender.

"ya got me, i love me some andy partridge. gonna go grab a drink," you sigh, and stand to start toward the kitchen.

steve pulls you back down to sit, and you land on his lap.

"got a bottle right here, remember?" he drones. his voice is far more personal, quieter than you're used to. he looks at you through glossy eyes and glances down at your lips. his hands move down to your hips.

"you, y/n, are magnificently beautiful. breathtaking, even."

his hand moves from your hip to the side of your face. his face inches closer to yours and his eyes start to flutter.

holy shit, he's trying to kiss me.

"i-- i think you're pretty too, steve," you burst, climbing off his lap and back to your spot, next to him.

he's pretty drunk, so he shrugs off your rejection fairly easily. he swings the vodka bottle into your lap.

"still thirsty?" steve teases, with a smirk that would make any girl in hawkins swoon.

"yeah, thanks," you laugh, opening the bottle. you grab your cup and tilt the bottle.

"ah, c'mon. just take shots right out of the bottle. more fun that way." he playfully slaps his arm onto your thigh, but doesn't pick his hand off as quickly as he placed it there. you do as he suggested and take sips straight from the bottle, his thumb rubbing the fabric of your jeans.

"do you wanna... dance with me?" he asks.

"dance with you?" you laugh. "here?"

"why not? everyone's high out of their minds anyway. nobody's lookin'."

"stevie knicks makin' you feel romantic or something... stevie?" you giggle. "sure, lets dance."

you stand and reach for his hand. he looks shocked at how quickly you stood up, and stumbles to his feet, a bit off-kilter.

"get your bearings, stevie," you whisper, his hands reaching around your waist.

"you look so great tonight, y/n."

"you've said that a few times, beer goggles."

"it's not the alcohol, y/n, it's just my heart."

you lay your head on his chest and you both sway drunkenly to the music.

"you, you make lovin' fun, and i don't have to tell you, but you're the only one"

"i'm sorry for screwin' up your makeup earlier."

"don't worry about it, i fixed it up real quick. why are you still thinking about that?" you lift your head from his chest and lock eyes with him.

"just wanted to know how you felt about it, 'cos i've got this undying urge, y/n."

"undying urge?" you laugh. "to do what, pray tell?"

"to ruin that pretty pink lipstick, again."

your face burns up and before you can say a word, his lips are on yours. his hands make their way to your cheeks and his fingers lock into your hair. you pull away and look at his pink lips, his cherry cheeks. his glassy eyes.

"you are a lush, steve harrington."

"and you, y/n y/l/n, are the best friend i've ever had."

#steve harrington x reader #steve x reader #stranger things fic #steve harrington fic #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington imagine #steve fanfic #asks

[fanboymickey]

Harrington’s got her | Mint Chocolate Chip at 2am

Summary: Reader and Eddie had been high school sweethearts and planned on being together forever. Instead, life had other plans and flipped reader's world upside down. Now reader finds herself becoming a single mother and possibly falling in love with her childhood best friend, Steve Harrington.

Word count: 1.0k

Warning: Angst. Teen pregnancy. Reader is 19 years old. Vecna and Eddie are both dead. Everything was solved at the end of volume two.

Request: Nope. I had an idea for this and just wanted to write it.

Pairings: Past Eddie Munson x Reader, Steve Harrington x Reader

Writers Note: Hi! Sorry for a long wait, but here’s chapter three💓 also, I apologize if this chapter isn’t the best, I’m currently on vacation and wanted to get something out for you all💗

Part 2

“So, how’s baby Munson doing?” Robin asked while patting your stomach. You and Robin had been hanging out more lately since Steve was usually around. Today happened to just be the two of you since Steve wanted to pick up a few extra shifts at family video.

“They’re doing alright, but you wanna know something cool?” Robin perked up at the question. If you knew one thing about Robin then it’s definitely learning new information.

“Little baby Munson here is the size of a turnip,” you smiled, patting your small bump that was only going to grow over the next five or so months.”and they just started being able to hear things!”

“Oh my gosh, does that mean they can hear everything we’re saying right now?” Robin giggled.

“Yup! That means they also know all about your crush on buttercup,” you teased. Buttercup only moved to Hawkins about two years ago during your senior year and her junior year of high school. You didn’t know her all too well but from the few classes you had shared with her, you knew she was very sweet and quick witted.

“Hey Y/N,” Robin paused, “Can I ask you a question?”

“Yeah, of course.” You shifted on the couch, sitting in one position for too long was starting to become more uncomfortable as the baby was sitting on your bladder more often now and the back pain had begun to set in.

“Did you and Eddie ever, you know, talk about marriage or any of this?” She said, referring to the baby.

You bit your lip thinking back to a conversation you had with Eddie last year.

10 months ago

“I love just getting to lay here with you and do nothing,” You wrap your arms tighter around Eddie. You give him a squeeze and tuck your face into his neck while breathing in his scent.

“I love just being with you,” he said while giving you a squeeze back.

You pull away and rest your head on his chest, “I could stay like this forever,” you say as you play with his ring-cladded left hand.

“Y/N,” Eddie said while sitting up on the bed. You shifted in his bed next to him and sat up to meet him eye to eye.

“What?” You laugh when you see him smirking at you. You continued to play with the various rings on his left hand.

“Would you wear my ring?” You could tell by his voice that this was serious, “you know as a promise that one day I’ll get you a ring of your own.”

You looked at him in shock. “Are you sure?” You asked as you watched him slide off the ring that normally sat on the ring finger of his left hand.

“I’m more than serious,” he looked at you waiting for your answer, “so what do you say, Y/N?”

“Yes, Eddie, I’d love nothing more than to wear your ring.” You smiled at him and then pulled him into a kiss. “I love you, Eddie”

“I love you too, Y/N.” Eddie kissed you again while sliding his ring onto your left ring finger.

“Yeah and maybe we could have a little munson or two running around not long after,” he winked at you.

“That sounds really nice, but I think I want three,” You were taken back by his comment, but pleasantly surprised he wanted the same things as you.

“Hm, three little Munson’s?” He raised his eyebrows and smirked at you.

“Yeah, I want them to have your eyes and your cute nose.” You reach up to boop his nose with your own.

“Call it a done deal if they can have your smile.” He pulled you in for a kiss.

You were snapped out of your thoughts. “Yeah, we did,” you played with his ring that now sat on your left ring finger.

As you laid in bed that night, you tried to imagine what your future would look like. You knew that you’d probably be a single mother because you had a hard time imagining yourself without Eddie because the only man you ever even loved close enough to Eddie was Steve, but you definitely didn’t have feelings for Steve.

Steve is your best friend and someone you know you can always count on; he’s reliable, funny, caring, handsome, but most importantly he knows you better than anyone else. While Eddie was the love of your life, you knew Steve was your soulmate. You guys had always managed to find your way back to each other and always with mint chocolate chip in tow.

‘mint chocolate chip’ you thought to yourself. You had been craving it every night for the past week. You grabbed the landline that was near your bed and quickly dialed the number you’ve called every day since you were seven years old.

After a few rings you heard a familiar voice that always sent warmth through your body, “Mint Chocolate Chip with gummy bears and whipped cream?“ Steve said through a sleepy mumble.

“Thank you, Steve.”

“Anytime,” he yawned, “See you in 25 minutes.” You both hung up the phone.

You got out of bed and ran downstairs to wait by the door, 25 minutes had never felt so long. As soon as you heard the knock on the door you opened it immediately to see a disheveled and tired Steve holding up a pint of mint chocolate chip, a bag of gummy bears and a can of whipped cream. “Go sit and I’ll make you a bowl,” he walked into your kitchen and grabbed everything he needed to make you your favorite midnight snack.

You stared at him as he made you your favorite snack, you began to notice how toned his arms were through his plain white t-shirt and how he bites his lip when concentrating on scooping the ice cream. Maybe you did like Steve or maybe it was just your hormones, but all you know is Steve Harrington wasn’t just your best friend anymore.

Part 4

Taglist: @khaylin27 @violetbendbackwardoverthegrass @Ketsueki_B4_Midnight @fangirl-inthe-us @bxnnywriting @Livvy-ob-13 @spencestyles @idreamofdeanie @thunder-and-lightning @lexi-2004 @heartyhope @bizarrelovetraingle @louderfortheback @tone-grey @ssybil @mysweetlittledesire @marisurmommy @steve-harringtons-slut @slut4rafee @peachy-shqwers @and-claudia @renaroo123 @sleepylunarwolf @erindiggory @hcloangcls @redgetawaycar @claire0531 @emmzasworld @astro-cub

#stranger things #steve harrington #eddie munson #robin buckley #steve harrington fic #eddie munson fic #eddie munson x reader #steve harrington x reader #dad!eddie munson x reader #dad!steve harrington x reader

[peakyblinders1919]

Haddie Harrington Pt 3

|part 1| |part 2|

“And he just looks… exactly the same?”

“Well, not exactly…” Stopping, the wheels in your brain turned and turned. How was one supposed to eloquently describe something so beautiful? In simile, in metaphor, with a wave of a paintbrush, and still no words or drawings could do him justice. “He looks like Steve but older. His hair is a little shorter in the back, still long on top, sort of reminiscent of his hair junior year when he still cared enough to style it-” before he let it grow out, you remembered, nearly salivating at the thought. “He was wearing wire-framed glasses on the bridge of his nose, shirt tucked into his jameans at the right place, a hint of a five o’clock shadow on his cheeks…” You were doing a meek job of describing him, babbling rather than using words to form the masterpiece you’d laid eyes on. Like a fine wine, he’d only aged well. 

Better than well. 

Robin listened, though inattentively, while focusing on the new vase on her potter’s wheel; tongue sticking out in concentration, hands covered in gray mud, wet clay caked under her fingernails. 

“And all you said was ‘hi Harrington’?” 

It was way better than you had anticipated.

“Well, yeah. At first. But we talked a little bit about the school day, when he should expect to pick her up and all that.”

“And he had nothing to say about being MIA for four years?”

“Robs, I had twenty other parents and students to greet, we didn’t exactly have time to catch up.” 

“Then I hope one of you dingus’ asked the other to coffee after school or something…”

That would have been too easy. 

As much as you’d like for it to be that easy, as if four whole years had not gone by, it was too long a time to ignore. Too many changes; the school, your job, all of Hawkins looking a little different, subtle changes like the new statue in Jefferson square, the restoration and slight modernization of city hall, his daughter, his life.

Steve Harrington looked like a Dad ready to live his life.

“Was he wearing it?”

“Wearing what?” 

As if reading your thoughts, as if she knew what you were anticipating, she made you stop and think. How easy it was to remember the buttercup yellow of his polo shirt reflecting against his pale ivory skin, freckles leaving dots of constellations glowing across his face. How easy it was to notice the way his biceps stretched against the cotton sleeves of his shirt, the chocolate brown of his eyes matching the rich, brown syrupy swoop of his hair, even how easy it was to notice he still wore that damn watch on his left wrist, hands ticking a few minutes behind, the watch that he had inherited from someone who’d believed in him along the way, and you swore he never took off since.

But you failed to notice if he was wearing a ring.

“What do you mean you don’t know?” Your best friend brought the potter’s wheel to a halt, extra wet clay spinning off in a flash and smearing against her cheek.

“I didn’t look.” 

“Well, that’s the most important thing to find out.”

“Well, why do I have to do it? I’m his daughter’s teacher for fucks sake, I’m sure I’m going to see him again. Dropping her off, picking her up. Speaking of, when are you going to go see him?”

“Whenever he decides to step up and call, introduce his little girl to Auntie Robin.” Rolling your eyes, nudging your shoulder with hers as she wiped herself clean, you waltzed around each other in the studio space, closing it for the night.

“She looks just like him. I wouldn’t be surprised if she’s some miraculous clone of him, no woman involved.”

“That’d be easier for you, wouldn’t it?”

“I know what that smile of yours means Buckly, and you can wipe it clear off now before I do. Steve Harrington and I are just friends.”

Did just friends know each other’s favorite color, favorite ice cream flavor, favorite band, favorite guilty pleasure song? Did just friends finish each other’s sentences? Did just friends remember little things about each other, like their mother’s birthday, the anniversary of the day they first met, their birthdays? Did just friends know how to comfort the other when they were hurt? Did just friends remember what made the other laugh, what made the other tick, how the other liked to be touched softly here, roughly there? 

Did just friends know how each other tasted?

Did just friends dream about getting another taste?

“Just friends,” Robin mocked as if the woman lived in your head. She shut off the lights, edged into the refreshing night air, and walked a few blocks with you back home. 

Even if you did entertain the thought of Steve being a single father for even a second, who was to say he wanted you to be anything more to him than his daughter’s teacher? Your relation to him destined in the stars, never to change from just friends to something unspoken, something more.

“I’m not a homewrecker.”

“I wouldn’t insinuate such a thing.”

“Why are we even entertaining this?”

“You tell me.” Through the darkness, you could make out the wiggle of Robin’s eyebrows.

Were you entertaining it? No, not yet. Daydreaming wasn’t your fortè. The bubbling in your chest felt that morning was just the anticipation of seeing him again if you were going to see him again. The bubbling simmered, low and hot and persistent when it was him standing in front of you, not a ghost of who he was. Even in the dark, evening breeze cool against your cheeks, maybe the heat never left, parts of you warm to the touch and still a bit bothered by the sight of him. Who he was.

A father. A dad. Carrying his little girl with ease, speaking to her softly and sweet, mirror smiling his. If there was one thing you could never forget about Steve Harrington (besides the hair) it was his personality. Spilling over such a strong sense of caring for others, protecting others, and accepting others. More so than himself. You didn’t have to wonder if that remained the same, that much was obvious from his smile as he picked Haddie up earlier that day.

“You’ll love her. She showed up in yellow rain boots.”

“Yeah?” Robing laughed, maybe a bit sad at the realization she might have to meet Haddie Harrington through you and your stories alone, left forever wondering what happened to make her best friend leave her life without an explanation and never give her the chance to enter it again.

“She’s smart, knows her letters and numbers. And she’s a real artist. Knows all her colors.. She had a unique interpretation of her and Steve, two yellow blobs with a blue sky background.”

She’s in her Picasso era, you could hear him say to his wife through a low laugh, hanging it up on the fridge. 

“Who’re you in love with here, Haddie or Steve?”

“What? Neither!” Defensive shouts fell from your lips at the accusation, the heat from earlier mixing with the blush on your cheeks making you realize how impossible it’ll be to stay out of her life, his life. “So.. so when do we pull the trigger?” Suddenly, your mouth was dry, licking your lips to continue when it was clear Robin had no idea what you were referring to. “When do we confront him? When do we tell Dustin and Lucas and Max? When are you going to see him?” 

Because I’m going to see him tomorrow, you thought selfishly. It was a 50-50 shot anyway, that, at least, you’d see him again. 

And that was somehow enough.

#stranger things fic #stranger things imagine #stranger things #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things imagines #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington #steve harrington and robin buckley #steve harrington fic

[pukner]

✨masterpost of my works✨

posted to my ao3

[this post is subject to editing in the future]

Since I intend on using Tumblr a bit more now, and because I like neat lists, I thought it'd be prudent do make a little list of what I have out on ao3 right now!

My name's Looth, and I am ENTIRELY at the whims of my hyperfixations. I'm on twitter and pillowfort by the same handles, but I rarely use the latter.

fandoms: Stranger Things, Our Flag Means Death, The Witcher (Netflix) and Good Omens

[list under the cut!]

fanfiction

Good Omens:

A Nanny? In MY Summoning Circle?

A twoshot wherein Warlock Dowling meets his Nanny again, via the very normal uni student past time of trying to summon a demon with a book you found in a dodgy bookshop. Very fluffy, genderqueer Warlock.

[Complete] 2/2, 10.5k

The Witcher (Netflix):

The Viscount

[geraskefer endgame]

A 5+1 that works on the premise that "I'm from Lettenhove" is a sort of codeword in the royal class for children that have fallen out of grace with their court/family? And the higher your rank in Lettenhove, the worse the thing you have done is? Lots of Jaskier shenanigans, aggressive found family and genderfluid Jaskier.

Based on a post by @artistsfuneral.

[WIP] 3/?, 1.3k

build me up, buttercup [rated M]

[geraskefer endgame]

A longfic I've been chipping away at since 2020, dear God. Features Jaskier and Yen being fake married and co-parenting Ciri, Geralt getting adopted, the found family inherent to bards and the city of Oxenfurt, ftm Jaskier and Ciri having a well-deserved identity crisis. Also, ocs galore, gratuitous academia, and also Valdo Marx is immortal and Jaskier's annoying best friend.

Geraskefer endgame. My baby, who I will return to as soon as I am able.

[WIP] 15/?, 64k

Our Flag Means Death:

the inertia series [rated E]

a three-part series following Israel Hands as he attempts to move on from the things keeping him trapped in amber, unable to grow.

[steddyhands endgame]

[Complete] 62.9k

1. love like a dog on a leash

Izzy Hands encounters an old friend in the form of Sam Bellamy, Ed starts a barfight, and Stede learns some backstory.

All of these men are haunted in some way.

1/1, 5.5k

2. open season

Izzy Hands finds himself inexplicably being courted by various pirates to be their first mate. No one has addressed that fact that he isn't looking for a new Captain; he already has two. Steddyhands endgame, features some Jackhands.

A long look at the dynamics between Ed and Izzy, and now Stede, and the older dynamics of Ed, Izzy, Calico Jack Rackham and Sam Bellamy. Actually, it's a look at Izzy himself, and his various traumas and the way he's transitioning from being in a Black Sails type dark genre to this weird muppet land everyone else on this ship seems to live in.

7/7, 44.5k

3. red sky at morning

An epilogue, wherein the boys all contend with the future on the horizon; the good and the bad of it.

1/1, 11.9k

stranger things

[my current hyperfixation send help]

Eddie Munson and the Dreamboy

[steddie]

Wherein Eddie and El traverse the inside of Steve's mind, and encounter various Steves at different points in his life trying to find where he's hidden himself to escape Vecna's final curse.

A 5+1, featuring Steve's Scoops Ahoy flirting, a little baby Steve, and El's hair.

[Complete] 1/1, 8k.

Dustin Henderson and the Lovebirds

[steddie]

Five times Dustin Henderson was subjected to Eddie Munson being gross and sappy and in love with Steve Harrington, and one time Steve didn't even have to be there.

Features Steve being serenaded, Eddie Munson's Roger Rabbit Impression, Steve's Tiny Gym Shorts, and a good old fashioned worm conversation. Also, gay dnd.

[Complete] 1/1, 9.7k

always burning, world keeps turning

a two-part series set in a soft post-apocalyptic Hawkins, where community and family keep everyone going. And Steve and Eddie kiss about it.

[steddie]

[WIP]

1. took you for a working boy

In a post-apocalypse, mildly nightvale-flavoured Hawkins, Steve and Eddie are the only ones who aren't aware they're dating. Steve does not have a gender crisis but does have a lot of difficulty finding the words for it all, Eddie is oblivious but earnest (and running a radio show, Dr. Death Defying or Cecil Palmer style), Steve and Robin are ACTUALLY soulmates, and everyone's doing their best.

I cannot stress how much everyone thinks they're already dating. Featuring genderqueer Steve, disaster gay Eddie, scheming younger teens, and lots of stobin fluff.

[complete] 6/6, 43.8k

2. hometown blues

The sequel to working boy, wherein Gareth, Vickie and Steve's mom encounter how fucking weird Hawkins has got in their absence, and take it with varying degrees of grace.

[WIP] 3/? 17k

off-script

Wherein Steve Harrington has his sexuality all figured out, Eddie's in comically heavy denial, and everything rapidly snowballs from there.

[steddie]

1. off the beaten path

Wherein Steve figures out he's bi before Eddie figures out he's gay, but Eddie STILL manages to fall first.

Features Steve talking himself though discovering his sexuality in approximately five minutes while on the phone with a baffled Jonathan, and him aggressively flirting with the local metalhead. He's also very good at being an unreliable narrator.

It ALSO features said local metalhead (who thinks himself straight) accidentally flagging, calling Steve Harrington princess in a totally straight way, and doing the ttrpg equivalent of doodling your crush's name on a notebook over and over. Also, somehow he's convinced himself he just hates Steve.

This won't end badly for anyone, I'm sure.

[Complete] 6/6, 34.2k

2. no boys allowed

Robin Buckley has her very first Girls' Day. She gets her hair braided, consoles her heartbroken best friend, and everyone muddies the water a bit on the exact definition of what a Girl is.

Steve Harrington has a good cry about Eddie Munson.

[Complete] 1/1, 7.5k

3. here be dragons

Eddie Munson has kissed a boy, and now he has to handle the fallout. He's got to grapple with the fact that he likes boys, likes a boy, and the harrowing fact that he may have inadvertently broken said boy's heart.

Or, a rapidly snowballing fic that's become a series of character studies by accident. Features Mike Wheeler kicking Eddie's ass into gear, ruminations on being a fashion-assigned dom, Steve Harrington's Various Abandonment Issues, and a surprise Tommy Hagan.

[WIP] 6/?, 38.9k

original works:

court of law

A mildly unhinged second person pov piece about a person going to college and finding that he's trapped in a bizarre dreamscape with no memories. And a new body. He accidentally steals a cute boy's name.

Lots of shenanigans, lots of gender and bad jokes.

[WIP] 6/?, 13k

#looth yells #my writing #ref #pinned post #writing #fic #i genuinely never remember what tags i use